#it’s objectively such a good rom com

[daisiesonafield-blog]

[rainingmbappe]

The rise of "let people enjoy things" is single handedly the backbone of the rise of anti intellectualism

[husky-and-starch]

This analysis from @actingcamplibrarian is so real. Starting the episode with this and ending it with Hutch telling Starsky they’re basically dating (and he’s not even a good kisser!!)

[rodeorun]

love in the dark.

yandere pretty boyfriend x fem!reader.

cw: drugging, black-mail, non-con blowjob, degradation. Featuring @meo-eiru 's OC, Elias ❤️

MDNI.

“You better work,” Elias threatened the baby pink candle he was holding between pretty, manicured fingers.

One might even compare it to the young man himself. Long and more thin than thick, the pink wax at the tip molded into a heart shape, white wick sticking through the middle. Elias always had love on the brain, at least when it came to you. Pity he didn't have a fine white wick of logic to split his head in two, or rather, his heart. But, when you love the way he did, weren't those two practically the same thing?

He doesn't know how many hours he spent on the dark web to find this, some sort of ‘love candle.’ Whatever that bullshit meant. The description the seller left behind was short and to the point.

‘Ignite this candle in the presence of your desired person and watch them fall in love with you.’

Even Elias in all his lovesickness found it hard to believe, but it was that sickness itself that led him to purchasing the item. He hadn't gotten a gig lately so he prayed for the payment to go through, giving himself a headache for purchasing a mere candle that was six hundred and fifty dollars. God, the things he would do for you (or to you, but that's a completely different matter.)

You, the object of his affections. His sweet, sweet, sweet best friend who has saved him more times than he could count. You were entirely too good for him and he knew it.

A special knock on his door alerted him to your presence, and he knew it was you because you two had created that very knock in sophomore year of university. Long after he changed his name, you still had the heart to played with him like a child. Where others laughed at his girlish tears and overgrown sobs, you healed his inner child with every hug, every whisper, every time you'd look into his eyes and tell him, ‘it's okay, Elias. I'm here for you.’

And you always were.

No matter how bad his tantrums got, you never got sick of him. You were the only one who stayed. You practically conditioned him. How could he ever want anyone else after tasting a drop of your sweetness?

“Hi, darling!” Elias opened the door and pulled you in for a hug, kicking the door shut behind you. “Someone's mighty dressed up for a movie night in, hehe. Oooh, is this wine? Gimme gimmie!”

Taking the bag from your hands, Elias turned to put it on the table, laying a sweaty palm against his flushed cheek. Heaven, he couldn't do this much longer! Just a hug from you and a whiff of that perfume had him hardening in his yoga pants. He stayed faced away from you as he rocked side to side, subtly rubbing himself against the bottle you brought just for him. All for him.

“So, I was thinking we could start with a rom-com and then maybe a western, for variety, and after that there's a three hour long horror movie I found that-”

“Sorry, Elias.”

Glittering eyelids opened themselves.

“See, my boyfriend injured his arm in a game yesterday, so I need to go help cook for him,” you explained. Your sorry eyes seared into his back.

Ah, yes. That boyfriend of yours. Taller than Elias, bigger than Elias, handsome enough to be called a heartthrob and an athlete by profession. A real winner, that boyfriend of yours!

Elias wanted to spit on his corpse.

“Oh, your boyfriend!” He clasped his hands together and turned to face you. “The one who forgot to pick you up at the mall last week because he slept through his alarm, right? I remember him.” Elias fiddled with one of the bottles of wine now, snarling. So much for a ‘gift,’ you were just trying to buy his forgiveness.

“Yes, Eli, that boyfriend,” you chuckled. “But I forgave him for that, you know? Nobody's perfect.”

The illusion of bliss he was swept up in from hearing that sweet nickname quickly shattered.

‘Nobody's perfect.’ Elias knew that better than anyone else. Afterall, he was the last thing but, and yet you still treated him so preciously.

So, why? Why was it the very same thing he fell in love with you for, you were flaunting to just anyone? Don't you know that love isn't free? Especially not yours! How many bottles of hair dye, micro-needling appointments, collagen fillers, and waxing appointments did he go to for your love? By God he knows his deadname didn't deserve you, but didn't Elias at least earn a little bit of your attention?

How dare you, honestly. How dare you show someone else the kindness you won him over with? How dare you waltz in here just to stand him up for another man! How dare you fucking-

“Eli?”

“Yes, my beloved?”

You looked upon him tentatively, a testament to what a ticking time bomb he is. “Oh, alright, I forgive you.” He waved you off playfully and walked over to hold both of your hands in his. “But next time, I'll tie you up and keep you here forever, munchkin~”

Your laugh mingled with his. As if you thought he was joking.

“Ah, but, darling! At least have a drink with me before you go. It would be lonely to pop open a bottle by myself, hm?”

A single drink.

That's what you and Elias agreed on. One glass and you'd be on your way to that wretch. You didn't drive to get here and assured Elias that your boyfriend would drive you back home. As if.

“Oh, before we cheers,” Elias put his glass down and went to rummage for a box of matches, shaking his hips this way and that while humming in his search.

“Someone's in a good mood,” you grinned, watching him groove to imaginary music.

“Yes, with you around I always am,” he teased and returned to the table. He put the candle in the stand and lit it.

It was only a little unsettling that he watched you instead of the matches while he did so.

“That's a really cute candle, Elias. Where'd you get it?” you asked him as he sat down across from you, drink in hand.

“Oh, this old thing? It's just something I had laying around- Oh my god!”

Elias flinched as the candle suddenly exploded, letting out a small puff of wind that blew his hair back and left behind a plume of pink smog.

“Darling?! Are you- ack! You okay?” Elias wafted the air between hacking coughs until he could see your face again.

You looked shocked, as one would when a candle explodes in their face, but then you started laughing. Small titters that rang like a bell until it turned into gasps that made you grab your stomach.

“You're, hahahaha, so, so silly, Eli! Haha, where do you get these things?!”

Oh, honey. He couldn't stop loving you even if he tried.

“Oh, stop that, you! How was I supposed to know it would do that,” Elias played along, ears still tinged pink at his little blunder. You two looked at each other and then fell into joined laughter.

This light, airy feeling was a drug to him. No matter how boring he was, how flat his personality, you could always find something more in him. Something to talk about, to laugh about, to entertain him with. Something he couldn't find by himself.

It's like the universe sent you to him as if to say, ‘hey! This is the person who will make life worth living! The one who will take that mind numbing emptiness away!’

And who was he to deny the wishes of the universe?

“Worthless piece of junk,” Elias muttered when things settled down. The candle really was a sham then. “At least it smells nice,” he lit the candle again and waved the match to out it. “Anyways, I got a manicure today and the lady was way too rough with my cuticles. She should quit if that's the service she's going to give.”

He brought his nails up, inspecting the blood red polish.

He was met with silence.

“Darling?”

Your head was down, lip trapped between your teeth.

“R-Right. Well, it's pretty,” you shot him a sad kind of smile. “It's just, well, no. Hm, uh, no…I forgot, I guess?” Elias watched you scramble around until small tears dripped from your eyes. “I guess I just forgot that you see other women every day.”

His heart froze in his chest.

“And, I, I know she was just doing her job, but holding your hand while she did your nails- she did hold your hand, right? That's a little…”

You trailed off and wiped your tears, willing yourself to gather such thoughts while Elias looked on in shock.

His eyes flicked to the candle, to you, the candle, you. Always you.

“She did,” he said simply, cautiously, “hold my hand. Yes, she did.” Your face cumbled, making Elias shoot up. “But I hated it! I wished it was you! I want you to be the one holding my hand!”

“Really?” Those big, wet eyes pleaded with him. “Because, I get jealous, you know.”

Something below his belt started stirring.

“Is that so?” He hummed and pulled his chair over next to you, thumbing the tears under your eyes like you had done for him so many times before.

The light of the candle reflected in your eyes and when Elias glanced over, it had melted remarkably quickly. The leftover wax dripped onto the table but he couldn't care less.

First things first, he needed to make sure what he hypothesized was real. That this wasn't a ploy.

“You know, dear, I was very hurt when you started going out with that bastard. You hurt me, a lot. How do you think I felt?” He cooed like you were a child, soft and gentle in his palm.

“I'm so sorry, Eli. I'll break up with him, okay? I only want you! I'm really- mmph!”

Not the romantic first kiss he was dreaming of, but perfect nonetheless.

All this groveling and begging, over little ol’ him? It was too cute. He could just eat you up! But before that, it seems Elias was going to be devoured first.

“Darling? Ngh!” You were tangling your tongue with his, sucking his lips, his cheeks, his tongue, leaving little nibbles on his blushing skin. “Hold on, I need to-”

“Need to what, Eli? I need you right now,” you swallowed, “I feel like my body is on fire.”

Oh, god, the candle really did work. You were squirming on your chair, rubbing your legs together and giving him the absolute cutest puppy eyed stare. You wanted him. You wanted him.

“Yeah?” Elias said breathlessly, trying to keep pace with you, “well I think I need an apology for you cheating on me first.”

He stood up and pulled his oversized sweater up, letting you peek at the bulge growing underneath tight grey cotton.

“Oh, Eli! It's so pretty!” You weren't shy about rubbing him over his pants. “All of you is so, so pretty, baby. Can I…suck you?”

“Darling, I'm yours!” He said eagerly, the sudden onslaught of praise leaving him dizzy. “Anything you want to do, I'm yours!”

By the time you peeled down his pants and had his leaking dick positioned at your mouth, he was ready to burst. He was entirely ready to finally get his reward, but you hesitated.

“Wait, Eli. I think we should wait, um…my boyfriend. I should break up with him first.”

That goddamn candle should have come with a special feature to make you forget anyone but him all together.

Elias probably looked terrifying right now, fine features underlit by the glow of the candle, staring down at you harshly. For once, he didn't find your babbling cute. Not when every other word was your boyfriend's name. So, Elias kindly shut you up.

“There we go~” Elias cooed, thrusting his hips a little. “Ah, ah, darling. Don't run from it,” he giggled, “or I'll shove it down your fucking throat~”

You were choking on his cock, unable to pull away with how he had his fingers locked behind your head. More than you moving, it was Elias who was pumping himself in and out of your mouth, not stopping until his balls slapped against your chin every time.

“What a good little thing you are, angel. I love you so much! Hey, do you love me too? I asked if you loved me too!”

Even under the effects of the candle, you looked scared. Elias was frantic now, not only his balls hitting your chin, but his toned abdomen smashing into your face as he fucked your entire head roughly. “Dirty fucking bitch! I trusted you! I love you and you left me for dead to go date that idiot! Do you know how much that hurt me?! How much I need you?! You were supposed to me mine, all mine, just like I'm yours! You dirty, dirty f-fucking whore!” Elias let out a wet sob, spilling down your throat with his eyes screwed shut.

Heavy pants left his mouth as he stumbled back to sit on his chair, chest heaving up and down. Even through your coughing, you couldn't help but worry about him.

“Eli? A-Are you okay?”

What a wreck your voice was, no doubt you'd be feeling him in your throat for days.

“It's not all out.”

“Huh? I don't understand-”

“Lift your shirt up.” He wasn't asking.

The smooth expanse of your chest was revealed and Elias used it as extra motivation to get the last few drops of cum out, fisting his tip roughly to pull out those last thick strings. It pearled on your skin beautifully and you didn't hesitate to stick your tongue out, cleaning him off properly with soft sucks that made him tremble.

“Good girl,” he sighed and eventually sat. It was like the devil was released from him. He was just Elias again, your Eli. “That was my first blowjob, you know,” he giggled cutely, like you two were mischievous kids sharing secrets in a treehouse.

Elias sighed and leaned in to hug you after lifting his pants back over his soft length. “Oh, my baby. I can't believe this worked. Had I known, I wouldn't have done this sooner. I can't believe you're finally mine,” he mumbled into your hair. “I love you, darling. And you love me too, right?”

Silence.

“Darling?”

Elias held you at shoulder length away, not wanting to let go of you completely yet. “Hey, why the tears, darling? Hehe, do you love me that much? Aw, well-”

“I'm sorry, Elias.” Your dark pupils met his.

There was no reflection from the candlelight anymore. In fact, the flame had blown out completely by now, leaving behind a sad little puddle of wax.

Your arms pushed his off as you stood up. “Shit…I- oh god, my boyfriend. What's wrong with me?! I'm sorry, Eli- I mean, Elias, um, I think the wine was a bit too strong for me. I really didn't mean to…”

What the hell was this?! Was this- did your love only last while the candle was lit?!

“What the fuck!” Elias cursed loudly, fingers gripping his silky tresses. The situation was beckoning a meltdown.

“I know, Elias, I'm so sorry, but I don't know what came over me!”

You were scared, he could see it. And he's sure part of that fear was from the ache in your throat, the names he had called you when he was at the peak of bliss. How he carried on when he was so sure you were his completely. Over what, a stupid candle? He was an idiot! He had to do damage control.

“It's…alright, darling. It's okay. Hm,” Elias hummed as he thought, standing up to pace. “It's okay. Your boyfriend is waiting for you after all, run along now. It's getting late.”

“Elias?” You weren't sure what was going on.

“Don't worry, dear,” Elias looked at you with warm eyes. “I can keep a secret. We just got a little overwhelmed, didn't we?”

He was giving you a way out, obviously. But why?

“Right,” you said, unsure.

“That's okay, we all have our moments,” Elias giggled and walked over, wrapping his arms around you, letting one sneak down to cup your ass. “Some more than others.”

“I don't think we should be-”

“Be what? You already swallowed my load, pumpkin. Let it dribble all down your chin and everything,” he mused, rubbing a finger against your lower lip. “Or did you want to come clean to your boyfriend?”

“No! I really don't know what happened!”

“Then it's a secret,” Elias whispered, pulling you in for a kiss. You were helpless to him, unable to pull away under the looming threat of him snitching on you. His tongue traced your lips before he pulled away.

“I won't tell if you won't, darling.”

Elias sent you off with a few more kisses and a slap on your ass, already hard again and humping you like a dog all the way to the door where you left with tears in your eyes. You were just too cute!

It wasn't much, but it was something. The only excitement Elias could offer you. Now, he had a personality.

He was your secret lover.

“Aha! How wonderful!” Elias twirled around in excitement. What an adventure!

Soon, he'd guilt your sweet soul into breaking up with that idiot and you'd be all his. He already had a foot in the door after all.

Bringing a hand to his lips, he recalled the way yours felt against his. Marvelous, absolutely marvelous!

Hmm..

Elias took his phone out and sent you a quick text.

‘I think I left some lipstick on you, darling. Clean that up before you see you know who ;)’

Not even moment later, his phone rang.

“Hey, Elias?”

“Eli,” he corrected.

“Yeah, can you not-”

“Eli.”

“…Eli. Uh, can you not send texts like that, please? Just in case he sees.”

A shiver ran up Elias’ spine at the secrecy of it all. You two were bound by sin.

“Of course, darling. I'll call you tonight then.”

“I'm spending the night with him,” you said nervously. “I can't.”

“Alright then, I'll just text you,” Elias inspected his nails casually.

“But-! Ugh, fine. I'll call you later.”

“Perfect. We'll talk soon then. Make sure your camera is on, I'm still throbbing over here,” he giggled.

“I have to go now,” you whispered.

“I love you, darling.”

“Yes, he's coming so-”

“I said I love you!”

“…I love you too, Eli. Bye.”

Elias waited for you to hang up with a smile. You were already cracking under the pressure of your unwanted affair. Sure it would hurt you now, but if this didn't last long then it would be him hurting later. Surely, you wouldn't be able to deal with that, not your kind heart. After all, his beauty is something that shouldn't be marred, you said so yourself.

It was only a matter of time now.

a/n: I actually finished this over a week ago but the Elias lore kept pouring in and I was scrambling to edit to make this as canon as possible but I gave up sooooo, yeah 😃 just imagine this as eli if he actually acted on half the shit he wants to do ig lmfaooo

Also can't believe I wrote unwilling reader because Elias is literally my baby muffin snuggly pie googlie bear and i love him, but i love men suffering more ig 💗

Divider: /animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Please do not ask for part 2. Thank you!

[rosesnbooks]

Taurus placements🍃

💚Sun in taurus-i believe that they have one thing in common: they have hobbies that fulfill them. you won't catch them overworking themselves to the point that they do not take a break to do something they love. they are good at different things as well and are often fast learners. no matter what other placements they have, i think they have a pretty approachable nature. i have met people with this placement who are quite intelligent. i think they are a bit impatient at times and want to do things their own way, and it's up to you whether that offends you or not lol. loving and sensitive people at their core<3

💚Moon in taurus-some of the warmest people you will ever meet. they value the people in their lives and they are often a voice of reason when you need it the most. they know how to pay attention to you and converse with you respectfully, even when you disagree on things. they have specific worldviews that are difficult to change, but if they think you're sensible and kind, they may try to change their perspective. that being said, in any other scenario, good luck changing their mind. they're pretty chill most of the time, so when you provoke a strong reaction out of them, you probably made a huge mistake (good luck). they're also soft honestly, but do not be mistaken, they are strong people. i have noticed that they are usually closer to their mums than dads, and their dads have a distant character. main love language: acts of service<3

💚Ascendant/rising in taurus- um, stunning and magnetic. this is well-known though, but they deserve to hear it every time. they are charming and the women give off girl-next-door vibes. i feel like they all share similar eyes, just google the celebs and you'll see what i mean, just a warm look overall. some may appear intense, depending on their other placements, but as soon as you talk to them it feels like you're talking to a friend. oh and the elegance some of them have? amazing. intelligent as well🙏

💚Mercury in taurus-i have to say, i did not expect them to be so talkative. they are a bit shy when talking to new people or those they do not feel that comfortable with, but as soon as they relax with someone, they are yappers lol. when they like a topic, it's possible they have given it a lot of thought so they have a lot to say. similarly to aries mercury, they have strong opinions but they can be more open-minded when they want to. they can sound too objective sometimes, and give a bit harsh advice. they also love to gossip, sometimes even too loud when they're into it. to me, they have a specific voice, it kind of stands out among others. some men with this placement are known for having a really nice voice

💚Venus in taurus-they adore the idea of love. you'll catch them watching rom-coms every once in a while so they could satisfy that part of them. if they don't show their romantic side when they're with you, you're wasting your time cause they're clearly not that into you. they want you to share some of their interests, possibly because they want to spend even more time with you and feel like you get each other. i think they can also be guilty of idealising their partners a lot and create an image of their persona that's not real. one of their main love languages is gift giving, heavy emphasis on this.

💚Mars in taurus-intimidating when you cross them. they are pretty good at going after what they want and although they experience a lot of stress until they achieve things, they still excel at it. they may hide their frustrations pretty well, and then when they're alone or with people they can be themselves with, lmao they let out so many emotions. at this point i'm even ashamed to describe them as "stubborn" because that's their middle name, everyone knows it. out of all the placements i feel like they lean the most toward conservative views? do let me know if im on the right track here. they also need to watch out for being insensitive at times

💚Jupiter in taurus-i'll have to be brief here (sorry) because i don't know anyone with this placement, but only what i've read over the years. they usually have a good eye for aesthetics and appreciate following one themselves, they know how to cook and in general provide a sense of a comfortable home. they are good with all things material, and they are quite sensual. they know how to enjoy life and use their sensibility and charm to succeed, and get far in life. i respect them tbh!

💚Saturn in taurus-it isn't easy for them to focus on the material world and focus on what's right in front of them. they're often in their daydreams and are quite capable people, but they need a push sometimes to actually start doing things (khm procrastinators) that does not mean they are irresponsible, but they experience difficulties with the worldly expectations (hope this makes sense). they are sensible and wise, but the part that requires to act on it can sometimes shut down🫂i've read this many times and can confirm it since i have this placement: scared of losing things-property/money/land, you name it. lastly, they just understand how people function and they are wise!

thank you for reading this, hun! i would love to hear your feedback💌

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Screw everything else inject On1y into my damn veins

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Aug 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 5-6 of 12 - Extreme introvert dealing with a very hot, very drunk, very affectionate extrovert was an excellent experience all around. “I was drunk and talking out of my ass, but I wasn’t lying” maybe one of the world’s greatest confessions. How meta that he’s checking out the book of the story that he’s in. Carry on boys, very enjoyable, very Thai BL.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 12 fin - It’s cute. They are all very cute. I do like it when high school BL gives us a coming out sequence. I know it’s old-fashioned, but it’s a trope that goes with this particular setting really well, and I just like it when it’s done nicely. I’m not sure I needed it to totally dominate the final episode of the series. But it was fine.

I gotta say, Fourth is an absolutely outstanding actor. He really did knocked it out of the park in this last episode especially. 

In conclusion:

It was fine and it was charming, but it was also a little lackluster. Thailand managed to take one of Japan's softest cutest most bonkers BLs in recent memory and make it softer and cuter and... dull. They did this by watering it down. JBLs almost always have an edge to them, even the rom-coms, by dulling the edge, MLMU lost a great deal of the sparkle and tension as well. What an office setting managed to mostly maintain in the consummate hands of TayNew felt somewhat lackluster when handed off to the next generation and a high school setting. Cherry Magic was a lovely reinterpretation, Mix Up was an amateur's watercolor rendition of a colorful oil painting. Am I being harsh? G4 tried their best, and Fourth turned in some outrageously good acting in the latter half. But the show? It was fine. If you like water colors and you haven't seen (and loved) Kieta Hatsukoi. 8/10

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 8 fin - This was the first hint we got that the lead's relationship was anything more than sexual. And it was utilized for a breakup?! JJ and Wan's friendship is the best thing about this show. PWan selling JJ out to Methas was great. I was modestly delighted by the big fuck off ownership engagement ring. I admire a boy who likes to mark his territory with bling. I actually thought this was a decent final episode. If very rushed. I know, in general this ending was objectively weak, but I grinned the entire time, so I can’t really complain that much.

Final thoughts?

A story about a kid who infiltrates a cooking competition under false pretenses and then has to deal with the consequences when he falls in love with the head chef. The side couple is a poor little rich boy meets physical therapist (morality chain). The core friendships are excellent and the chemistry cannot be faulted across the (charcuterie) board. What this show lacks in substance it makes up for in health code violations. It was all chili all the time. Considering that the plot centered on betrayal but the romantic relationship never sweetened enough to balance that bitterness; one could be forgiven for throwing this one in the compost. But I got over all its weaknesses in flavor balancing for an ultimately satisfying meal, with a great dessert course. I've always loved spicy food. Plus the blooper reels were fantastic. 8/10

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 2 of 10 - I like the side couple a lot. It’s nice to see that dynamic developed (as it wasn't in the CBL version). Of course, Thailand leans into a secondary couple, but I also like the super popular jock + geeky boy who couldn’t care less. You know what? I’m actually really enjoying this. And yes, I AM biased because it's August. (Wait, that could be taken several different ways this month. But you know what I mean.) Anygay, this is a lot softer than the original, and so Hero is much more of a pining character and less harsh. But I'm still enjoying it. I like the stepbrothers trope (we don’t get it very much from Thailand), and I enjoy the beats and pulses of this particular story. We will see if it derails into inconsequence and lack of conflict the way My Love Mixup did.  

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - I’m enjoying this show but it should’ve been just 10 eps. It’s feeling bloated at this juncture. That said, I loved our little GL kiss. Very pretty. I also really like the bit with Sam and Yo flirting with each other. Sam trying to get Yo to call him P'Sam was fucking brilliant. And then slipping in all of those nongs. Delightful. Linguistic negotiation, it's what's for dinner... along with Sam's d**k apparently. I frankly did not think they would take this couple that far. So, thank you very much everybody involved.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 4 of 12 - I do enjoy watching Yim freak out and fall in love all over again. The reality is still better for me than the fantasy parts, but it’s all fun enough. The magic mushrooms bit was odd. In fact, there is definitely a core tenor of ODD going on with the show. Which I’m accustomed to from Japan but I’m not really sure about from Thailand. Thus I remain engaged but suspicious of this BL. 

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 6 of 12 - Yu wants to take his baby on a trip, gets thwarted by his younger brother. Ouch. I really do think it’s time for Ai to tell Yu what’s going on with his dreams! Drunken boyfriend bolster pillow is a fav trope of mine. As usual, I’m catching second lead syndrome. What? I liked the rich boy badminton player. And then he picked up a guitar. Oh well.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 8 of 12 - No one cares about the hets. He was jelly? Cute. Also kinda an arse, by hey this is BL. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 1-2 of 12 - announced in 2023, high school, stepbrothers, and is reputed to be high heat. Based on a novel Mou Mou + the Your Name Engraved Herein team.

ARE YOU READY? I'M GOING TO NOT SO QUIETLY LOSE MY DAMN MIND

This is old-school BL and it’s bloody fantastic. Tsundere seme to beat all tsundere (smartest + tallest + bestest at everything but people) meets socially-ept cutie smart-ass protag.

They living together by end of ep 1 and start kissing by end of ep 2.

There is an Unknown quality to this, and that I love. Also, and ironic to say this while Addicted Heroin Th is airing, but this REALLY reminds me of Addicted. It’s so fucking good. I am all in on this show. Shut up while this eats my life.

Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Tues Gaga) eps 5-6 of 8 - Of course! The POV shift to the seme character at ep 5! How could I forget? Japan loves this beat! AND.... The running of the gays. And a use of a first name! So darling. Also some crazy great communication and conversation that is NOT a hallmark of Japan. Sahashi is so very possessive. I loved the switch that went on in his brain and the mania in his eyes when he thought someone else was interested in Natsume. I continue to love this.

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - I’m never going to like Maya. Sorry. And the leads were separated for most of this episodes so it was largely disappointing. I did like the insight into the way T sees the world, and sees the alienation of a disability and what it's dong to his friend. It’s very empathic. He’s such an appealing character in his obtuse bull-headed way.

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 2 of 8 - It’s intriguing, and I'm happy to have anything from Korea on my dash. But, like Blue Boys, I’m not entirely sure if I like it or not.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 3-4 of 12 - This may be Taiwan but I’m still in the "no singing" camp. I’m getting a slightly better chemistry feel off the leads in this episode. I’m not sure if they’re keeping it stiff because the younger character is under age or if it’s just that the actors aren’t there yet? (In other words is this a directing choice or a performance issue?)

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 8 of 10 - I've finally come down firmly on the fact that it’s the uneven power distribution (in terms of interest and enthusiasm for the relationship) that I dislike about this show. Generally, I like a power dynamic differential, kinky and all that. But this particular dynamic, when it’s the weaker personality that’s so much more into the stronger one? I never like it, unless it engages a serious pivot at some point. (See My Personal Weatherman or Takara & Amagi.)

It's airing but...

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 3 of 10 - I was really loving this one but I can't find ep 3 anywhere so I guess I gotta wait it out. I hope I get to see it eventually.

4 Minutes (Sat Gaga) eps 1-6 of 8 - Gaga picked this one up so we can watch it there. If I have time, I'll get caught up and put it into rotation.

In case you missed it

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging.

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER!!!! (Yeah this is gonna sit here until then).

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming Next Month:

The Time of Fever (Korea)

9/1 Live in Love (Thai)

9/3 Happy of the End (Japan)

9/6 Kidnap (Thai)

9/7 The Hidden Moon (Thai)

9/9 Jack & Joker (Thai)

9/14 Love Sick 2024 (Thai)

9/17 Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan)

More deets next week. It's late and I'm tired.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

It was pretty. I am very shallow.

Even more pretty. Petition to have Tenon with his shirt off and hair back in every subsequent Thai BL? Just because.

(SunsetXVibes)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * ten things I hate about you

warnings: longggg as helll and it would’ve been longer too but I cut half the ending and I’ll put it in the next part so the chapters aren’t years long AND credits to lynn painter the story isn’t mine along with quotes!!!

pairing: percy jackson x fem! reader

series master list

your day started off great today! your cat mr. fitzpervert left a hairball in your slipper, you burnt your ear with the hair straightener and when you walk out of your house you see your long time next door nemesis sitting on the hood of your car

“hey!” you slide your sunglasses up your nose, hightailing in his direction, making sure you’re careful not to ruin your new floral flats “get off my car, you weirdo!”

percy jumped off, holding his hands up in a I’m innocent pose, even though his smirk said differently. regardless of his current demeanor you knew him since kindergarten, he’s never been innocent a day in his life

“what’s in your hand?”

“nothing” he put his hand behind his back “you’re so paranoid”

you walk up to him, squinting your eyes up at his face. though he claims to be innocent his sea green eyes twinkle with mischief. you knew you we’re screwed because mischievous percy always won

you poked him in the chest. “what did you do to my car?”

“I didn’t do anything to your car, per se”

“per se?”

“woah. watch your filthy mouth, y/l/n”

you roll your eyes, which made his mouth slide into a grin before he said, “this has been fun, and I just love your granny shoes, by the way, but I’ve gotta run”

“percy-”

he turned and walked away before you could finish speaking. when he got to his porch he opened the screen door and yelled over his shoulder, “have a great day, y/n!”

that’s not a good sign. that could’ve been legitimate. you and percy had been enemies since forever, in a war over the one available parking spot. percy only won because he was a dirty cheater, thinking it’s funny to reserve the spot by putting miscellaneous objects in the spot to difficult for you to pick up yourself

yesterday however you won. you called the city after he had left his car in the spot for three days, earning him a parking ticket

you checked all four tires before climbing into the car and buckling your seat belt. you heard percy laugh, and when you went to glare at him through your passenger window his front door slams shut

then you saw what was so funny

the parking ticket had now been on your car for all to see, stuck to the windshield with tons of clear packaging tape. you got out of the car and tried to pry it off but it wouldn’t budge

what a tool

💌

when you finally made it to school after scraping your window with a razor blade and doing hard-core deep breathing to reclaim your zen, you entered the building with the bridget jone’s diary soundtrack playing. when your music was playing this loud it was easier to walk through the crowded hallways, ignoring rambunctious teenagers

you headed to the second floor bathroom where you met annabeth every morning. your best friend was an insane over sleeper so every morning she would rush to do her makeup before the first bell rang

“y/n, I love that dress!” annabeth threw you a side glance between cleaning up her eyes, then opening her mascara and swiping the wand over her lashes

you went over to the mirror to straighten out your vintage dress, making sure it’s not in any awkward position. you catch sight of two cheerleaders vaping behind you, giving them a closed-mouth smile

“do you try to dress like the leads in your movies, or is it just a coincidence?” annabeth asked

“don’t say ‘your movies’ like I’m a porn addict or something”

“you know what I mean,” annabeth said as she separated her lashes with a safety pin

you knew exactly what she meant. you watch your mothers beloved rom-coms every night, using her dvd collection you inherited from her after she died. annabeth didn’t know about how close you had been with your mother, although you lived on the same street for many years, you were never really close until sophomore year. she always thought your love for romance movies was due to you being a hopeless romantic

once finished, annabeth put her makeup back in her backpack and grabbed her coffee. “come on”

you take a last glance in the mirror. “wait- I forgot lipstick”

“we don’t have time for lipstick”

“there’s always time for lipstick”

you search your bag until you grab hold of your new favorite shade- retrograde red. “you go ahead, I’ll catch up”

she left and you rubbed the color over your lips- much better. you tucked the lipstick back in your bag and exited the bathroom

when you got to class you sat in the desk between annabeth and drew tanaka

“what’s the answer to number eight?” annabeth was writing fast as she tried to complete her homework. “I forgot about the reading and I have no idea why gatsby’s shirts made daisy cry”

you pulled out your worksheet and allowed her to copy your answers. your eyes shifted over to drew. if surveyed, everyone on the planet would agree that she was beautiful, her whole appearance extremely appealing to the eye, an absolute indisputable fact. however her soul was the complete opposite

you disliked her so very much

on the first day of kindergarten she’d caused a scene when you got a bloody noise, the entire glass gawked at you in disgust. In third grade she told your crush at the time your notebook was filled with love notes about him (which was true but he didn’t need to know that). In fifth grade, after your mom died, drew sat next to you at lunch, displaying the perfect lunch her mother had made. sandwiches were cut into adorable shapes, homemade cookies, brownies with sprinkles; it had been a treasure trove of kiddie culinary masterpieces

to this day everyone thought drew was an angel, but you knew. you knew all the awful things she’s done

you turned your attention to the front of your room where your teacher began collecting last nights homework. you passed your papers forward and began talking about literary things. you took glances around your eyes until they stopped on a boy you went out with a few weeks ago. he gave you a chin nod from his desk, you returned a smile

he was nice but the relationship wasn’t it. this is how most of your relationships went though. you would see a cute guy, daydream about him, think he’s your soulmate, then you got the ick

annabeth always said you were browsing not buying. she ended up being right- as always. this messed up your prom potential. you wanted to go with someone who would make your breath catch and heart flutter, but who was left in the school that you haven’t considered?

technically you had a prom date- you were going with annabeth. the problem was that going to prom with your best friend felt like a fail. you knew you’d have a good time. but prom was about poster/board promposals, matching corsages, speechless awe over the way you like in your dress, and sweet kisses under the cheesy disco ball

andrew mccarthy and molly ringwald pretty in pink sort of shit

My phone buzzed, snapping you from your trance

annabeth: I have BIG tea.

you looked over at her, but she appeared to be listening to the teacher you glanced at her before responding: spill it

annabeth: FYI I got it via text from kate.

you: so it might not be true. Got it.

the bell rang, so you grabbed my stuff and shoved it into my bag. annabeth and you started walking toward your lockers, and she said, “before I tell you, you have to promise you’re not going to get all worked up before you hear everything”

“oh my god, what’s going on?”

you turned down the west hall and before you had the chance to look at her, you saw him walking towards you

jason grace?

“aaaand there’s my tea” annabeth said, but you weren’t listening

jason had lived down the street when you were little. you’d loved him as far back as you could remember. he’d always been next-level amazing, smart, sophisticated- totally dreamy

jaosn came over and wrapped me in a hug, and you let my hands slide around his shoulders. your stomach went wild as you felt his fingers on your back

oh. my. god.

you was dressed for it; he was beautiful. could this moment be more perfect? you made eye contact with annabeth, who was slowly shaking her head, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered

jason was back!

@fratbrochrisgf @maybxlle @lastolympus @lara20aral

[bluemantics]

here’s a list of all my fics! i won’t be able to post and reblog much since I’m traveling the next week and a half, so I’ll compile all my works here in the meantime :-)

will also update this list as i write more!

klance:

midnight snacks don't exist in space

G | 1.7K | RP/BP dynamics

There are no rules about eating at 3:00 AM if you're in the far reaches of the universe.

In a bright kitchen while the team is asleep, Lance and Keith find each other, as they always do.

Why We Fight

T | 5.7K | truth-telling au

With the Rebels in need of resources, the team ventures to a planet known for its raw materials in hope that they'll join the coalition. Here's the thing: they need to prove that they can be trusted by telling the truth about why they fight.

Lance finds this more difficult to voice than the others. Unfortunately (thankfully), Keith has returned from the Blade and is more than willing to listen.

"This is bigger than any of us alone."

A Keith By Any Other Name

T | 8.2K | coffee shop rom-com AU

Lance McClain was dared to hit on Keith. Keith thought that’d be the first and last time they’d meet. However, Lance keeps coming back, charming Keith with his jokes and charisma.

Here’s the catch: Keith refuses to tell Lance his real name.

“I’m not telling you my name unless you order and move on.” Keith pointed to the register screen.

“Alright, I’ll do a cappuccino.” Lance pulled out his wallet from his jacket pocket and slid his card over to Keith. “Now will you tell me your name?”

“My name is Yorak.” Keith passed the card back to Lance, who looked shocked at that answer, his eyebrows raised to his hairline. Keith was beginning to realize how dramatic Lance could be.

“Really?!” Lance demanded. He looked pityingly at Keith, and irritation welled up in his gut.

“No!” Keith rolled his eyes.

“You’re the worst,” Lance huffed.

a billion light years from here

T | 8.5K | post-canon fix-it

Keith and Lance reconnect over letters. Through their writing, Keith learns to open up, and Lance learns what a home is.

"For all the game I talked on the castleship about missing home, now that I’m back on my family farm, I kind of feel like there’s something missing. Like, even surrounded by all of the juniberry flowers Allura gave us, and even with my parents, I still feel lonely. Or restless."

Or: A post s-8 fix-it AU told entirely through letters between Lance and Keith, both sent and unsent.

out of my head

G | 1.2K | high school au

Keith didn’t even want to watch the spring musical auditions. Forced by Pidge to accompany them, he finds himself surprised at the talent of a particular actor. He also finds himself surprised by his own response. 

OR:

Lance is ridiculously good at singing and Keith is a lovable, impulsive jock.

baptism by fire

T | 1.5K | canon-compliant angst

Prompt: write a private scene between two characters with no dialogue, of just them two alone.

Lance just witnessed the unthinkable. Keith offers his company in wake of the tragedy.

kiribaku:

unstoppably, immovably, unbreakably you

G | 651 | canon-compliant

A character study.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

Katsuki Bakugou’s hand implodes against Eijirou Kirishima’s arm; a flurry of sparks surround them with a sound that rings between his skull.

This is something he knows how to do well. With every blow that Katsuki unleashes, he feels Kirishima retaliate with more, responding like a dance to his every movement. Katsuki is a fine-tuned instrument of destruction, every muscle on his body worked with the intention of winning.

as always please let me know what u think thru asks & comments on ao3!! ill answer asks between travel, but im going to frequently be in spotty service.

[i-ship-everybody]

Leo Valdez headcannons - fluffy version

————————————————————

Gender neutral reader

When dating Leo Valdez you are 100% his favourite person and biggest priority

He’s always looking for you and wanting to be with you

Leo will look to share everything with you, new snack? He needs to share with you, someone says something funny? He needs to tell you about it.

When anything funny or weird will happen he will always look to you and you to him

He loves when you play with his hair

Leo will play with your fingers/hands

Instead of buying you flowers, he will make you flowers out of scrap metal. Every anniversary, birthday, Christmas,etc you get a different type of flower

Leo acts all confident but this man cannot take a compliment

Call him pretty or say he did something well and he will blush and tell you to stop, to shut up if he has too

If you are a reader, painter, collector, music lover, baker/cook, or have any hobbies that involve certain objects, Leo will go out of his way to find you a little something to go with that

Leo always looks shocked when you get him anything

He will be in absolute shock if you get him flowers, he’ll play it off but will definitely keep them forever

He will watch Disney movies (the old ones) with you and he loves them

Leo is a diehard fan of cheesy rom-coms

You will find him doing things that he’s seen in the movies

He’ll run and hide if you point it out

If you are someone that’s quick with comebacks or just witty comments he will have fun just bantering with you

He tells you all about his time in foster care

You comfort him and make him feel loved

He is your #1 defender at all times

Anyone says anything about you and smokes coming out of Leo’s ears

He will however make the worst jokes about you and find them absolutely hilarious when they land horribly and you stare at him like:😑

He is surprisingly good at drawing

In his workshop doodles and sketches of you are everywhere, on sticky notes on the walls, scratched into tables, the corner of blueprints, just about painted everywhere with ink

He will get grease all over his face and arms and forget about it

Leo will then shove himself into your arms getting you both dirty

Once you two get closer and further into the relationship he is the most comfortable person ever, I mean saying every thought he’s ever thought to you comfortable

Like he’s comfortable enough to wake you up in the middle of the night just to tell you about some weird dream he had

He 100% pursued you

Leo saw you, knew he wanted you and went after that

He was nervous but he got Annabeth to help him come up with a way to start a conversation

If he needed to he definitely chased you

He grovelled for you, begged for just one chance

You might’ve just been entertaining him at first, then you realize that Leo is the most dedicated person ever

He is the definition of dedication and devotion

Leo won’t even think of another person if he’s with you

He will be your best friend

One thing about Leo is that he will do anything, and I mean ANYTHING with you

You want to go out? He’s down, you want to go get a snack then walk around? He’s already there, you want to go see a movie? Leo already bough the tickets.

Even activities less suited for him, like museums, library dates or spa days. Basically, any calm activity, he will still put the effort in to stay still and silent

And you do the more crazy, energetic ones, even when your not 100% for it

If your having a bad day, he will come in and do one simple act of kindness that will give you the strength to continue the day

For example, during lunch you will accidentally drop your bite of food from your fork and then put your head in your hands done with the day. He will laugh a bit, then get a napkin to clean it up

You’ll do the same for him

Leo is always dropping kisses onto you

Not specifically your lips or even face, if he’s leaving a room he’ll drop a kiss onto your shoulder than leave

Neither of you are big on PDA, hate it actually

But he will find a way to do casual touches that portray such emoting

He will drag his nails over your back and just give you nice rental scratches everywhere

You guys will listen to each other talk about your interest even when you have no idea what the other is talking about

He steals all the blankets and you will absolutely turn over at night to see him on your pillow

Makes your tea/coffee/any drink the best way ever

Casually drops the most beautiful, thoughtful sentences ever then just leaves

Like words that will stay with you forever

He’s always tapping “I love you” onto you

You learn Morse code and now you communicate through it when you’re around others

He has finally found someone that will put him first and whom he can share an intense, loving connection with

Leo is no longer a 7th wheel and will never be again

———————————————————————————

Should I do a NSFW or angsty version? Let me know!

[zeezelweazel]

Rachel Daly & Millie Bright| New Experiences|

______________________________________

I was planning on writing more fluff but all the smut ideas hit me like a truck so here you go ig, also this is loooong

I'm kinda nervous to post this idk why (the proof reading was very rushed, not my best work)

TW: Strap on use, fingering (reader receiving), oral (Millie receiving), face sitting, praise kink, dirty talk, slight breeding kink

____________________________________________________

You've been dating Rachel for almost a year now and obviously you've met Millie more than once. The two best friends were soulmates and you won't lie, at first it bothered you a little. How they were so impossibly close with their matching tattoos and their inside jokes. It made you feel like you have to compete for Rachel's attention and time.

Then you realised how crazy that sounded so you shifted your attention to trying to be friends with Millie. You two bonded really fast and Rachel was delighted over your new found relationship.

Now some time has past and the three of you have settled into a comfortable dynamic. Although no matter how much time you spend with someone, there are always things about them that you must discover.

You and Rachel are cuddled up on the couch with Millie on the other side with your legs draped over her lap as a boring rom com plays on the tv. The movie was something that you guys found playing already and decided to leave it, the plot being about a woman discovering her love for women after years of dating men.

Everything was going smoothly until the two best friends decided to make an innocent joke.

"Good for her, but I'm sure that it's not that easy to realise you like women after dating men your whole life."

"Pssh please, one night with us and you'd be head over heels Bright."

Millie turned to Rachel so they can continue their little scramble but your mind had simply stopped working. Surely Millie must be joking. There's no way she's not only straight but also has never been with another woman before. Sure, you've never talked about her sexuality with Millie before but you had simply assumed. Which sounds bad but at the same time, could you really be blamed?

"Wait wait wait. Millie, you've never been with a woman before?"

Rachel looks at you with a smirk you can't identify at the moment and Millie just smiles and shakes her head.

"Nope. Never. Shocking ain't it?"

You only hum in response and focus your attention back towards the screen. Just when you thought the night was about to continue as normal, Rachel reached down and squeezed your thigh. You gulped knowing that this conversation isn't over just yet.

It was almost midnight when Millie left. You and Rachel were getting ready for bed. You noticed your girlfriend throwing pointed glances at you but not really saying what she wants. Finally you've had enough so with a huff you pull her into your side on the bed. Rachel chuckles slightly before finally revealing her thoughts.

"So about what happened earlier... You were a tad bit disappointed that Millie isn't interested in women."

Rachel said it so confidently that it made you laugh at first but once you noticed she was serious you started playing with your hands anxiously.

You'll admit you've spent a fair share of time ogling your girlfriend's best friend. It's not like cheating, of course not, it's just that Millie was an objectively attractive woman. A gorgeous, tall, mascular woman that you've fantasised about once or twice. Or more than that.

You thought you were not being obvious about it but Rachel knows you better than you know yourself. It's also fortunate that Rachel knows Millie better than anyone. She's caught her best friend looking once or twice. She couldn't blame Millie, you're drop dead gorgeous.

The recent events tied everything together, it's just too good of an opportunity for Rachel to brush it off without doing anything.

When Rachel realised you weren't going to answer she tugged you to her side and pulled you in for a side hug.

"I've seen how you look at Millie babe." Rachel leaned in and whispered in your ear. You froze completely at her words, not knowing how to react. Rachel smirked teasingly and you blushed trying to hide your face in her shoulder.

"I don't blame you. Millie is really hot."

Your eyes almost bulge out of your skull after hearing your girlfriend's words. You move back to look at her, trying to gauge her reaction to see if she's lying or joking. When you realise she's completely serious you bite your lip in thought.

"Are you really saying what I think you're saying?" Rachel only nods in response looking at you with an almost hopeful look." I don't want Millie to be uncomfortable. I mean she's never been with a woman before and what if she thinks we're creepy, or disgusting or-"

"Woah pause. Millie would never. If she doesn't like the idea she'll simply tell me that and then we'll forget this ever happened."

You ponder over it a few moments as Rachel quietly runs her hands up and down your sides. When you finally nod, Rachel grin in triumph and lays down on the bed.

"Good. I'll talk to her tomorrow."

When Rachel came home grinning from ear to ear and pulled you in a passionate kiss you thought she was just in a mood. But after she pulled away she told you that Millie had miraculously agreed. You really didn't expect her to but you'd be lying if you said you weren't giddy at the thought of a threesome with your girlfriend's best friend.

It took a lot of preparation and long talks with Millie about your boundaries and your kinks but everything was finally sorted and ready. You were almost pacing in your living room waiting for Millie to arrive. Rachel is trying to play it cool but you could tell she was nervous as well. It's not like you two have done this before.

The tension in the room is broken by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Rachel jumped up from the couch and all but ran to the door. Millie seemed to be anxious as well, her more than you and for good reason. With everyone anxious the atmosphere was a little awkward. You didn't dare to make the first step, opting to look at the floor instead.

After a few seconds of silence Rachel finally decides to break the ice. She pulls Millie closer by the fabric of her shirt and frames her face with her hands. Millie's face flushes red and she nods her consent. Rachel finally pushes their lips together, softly at first, expertly sliding their lips together. Millie groans softly into the kiss and her hands fall on Rachel's hips to pull her closer. You watch as the two best friends kiss and warmth grows in the pit of your stomach as the kiss turns more passionate. Rachel gasps when Millie squeezes her hips and grinds down on her which allows the taller blonde to slip her tongue in Rachel's mouth.

Your eyes are dark with lust as you watch the scene in front of you progress and you rub your thighs together desperate to relieve some of the pleasure in between your thighs. You weren't expecting Millie to take the rains so easily, especially with Rachel usually being the dominant one in the bedroom, but it's definitely a welcome surprise. When the defender sucks on Rachel's tongue she whines and her hips twitch. Millie pulls back then and Rachel chases her lips only to be lightly pushed back by her best friend's strong hand. Millie is smirking confidently when she turns to look at you.

"Can't let you have all the fun now can we, Rach?"

Without another word you pounced on her, your kiss wet and rough as you tried to consume one another. Realising that you three have been standing in the hall this entire time you string Millie towards the bedroom, your lips not once leaving eachother. Once you reached the bedroom Millie pushed you on the bed. You fell on the cushions with your eyes stuck on Millie who looked a bit uncertain on how to continue. Rachel slipped behind Millie, reaching around to rub chiseled abs over the defender's clothes but her blue eyes were fixed on you.

"Take your clothes of baby."

You nod fast at Rachel's command and take your clothes off slowly, making sure to give the two women watching you a show. You take of your shirt first, revealing the lacy white lingerie you picked out. You bite your lip as you feel your pussy grow wetter when you see Rachel slowly undressing Millie, taking of her clothes piece by piece as she kisses along her neck and whispers in her ear hotly.

"Doesn't she look so pretty? Do you want to fuck her Millie?"

You moaned needily when you heard Rachel's raspy voice. Millie's eyes were dark with lust, she licked her lips and gripped the sides of your bottoms. With a nod you gave your consent and Millie tugged down both your pants and your underwear at once.

Millie was bare on top as well, save for her bra. Rachel had now moved next to you and swiftly unhooked your bra. You whimpered when the cold air hit your stiff nipples and Millie groaned at the sight of your soft breasts completely exposed. Rachel reached over and took her best friend's hands on her own to guide them to your chest. Millie instinctively squeezed and groped your tits, her big palms covering the entire soft expanse of your breasts. Rachel, ever the impatient woman, moved to your neck instead as she nipped and sucked bruises on your skin.

Millie started twisting and tugging on your nipples and you moaned loudly bringing one of your hands to tangle in Rachel's soft blonde hair.

"Please, lower!"

Rachel smirked against your neck when you begged. She pulled back and started rubbing your thighs as you let them fall open. Both women turned their attention on the wet patch that very obviously formed on your panties.

Rachel slowly slid them off and you whined as she took her sweet time, teasing you as much as possible. Now you were lying beneath Millie, completely bare as both women stared you down hungrily.

Rachel moved closer to Millie and positioned her hands once more. Taking the defender's hand in her own, Rachel guided one of Millie's thick fingers through your slippery folds and your hips bucked while your mouth fell open.

"Feel how wet she is for us. Such a good girl, dripping all over and making a mess."

You whimpered and tried to grind up on Millie's finger, tired of the teasing from the blondes. Rachel tutted disapprovingly and held your hips down with her free hand to stop you from moving. She kept their fingers going up and down until she focused on your throbbing clit. Millie's rough fingers making tight circles over the sensitive nub. The sight of your girlfriend teaching her best friend how to touch a woman, how to touch you, turned you on in ways you'd never imagine.

Millie started gaining confidence quickly, her fingers now moving on their own, even dripping lower to tease at your gaping hole. Rachel decides that Millie is fine on her own for now so she reaches back and unhooks her best friend's bra as well. Millie groans when her best friend starts planting wet kisses on her neck. Without wasting any time Rachel's hands moved to her breasts to twist and pull at her nipples, similar to what the blonde was doing to you a few moments before. Millie took pity in your whining and finally shoved two fingers inside your wet pussy. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, a futile attempt to ground yourself as Millie's fingers set up a punishing pace. Millie turned her head and started making out with Rachel again. Their tongues were moving against eachother, your girlfriend doing a great job of swallowing all of Millie's moans as her nimble fingers continued touching her chest.

"God Millie, fuck! I'm so close don't stop."

Rachel grinned at your words her lips moving down to connect with yours in a bruising kiss. Millie seemed to be more motivated to make you come, using her other arm to rub your clit while her hands kept moving.

"Curl your fingers when you're inside, she loves that." You groaned when Rachel said that but the breathy sound soon turned to a high pitched moan when Millie curled her fingers and hit your g-spot repeatedly. You couldn't control your hips anymore, you started grinding down in time with the blonde's thrusts.

"That's it baby girl, come for us." Rachel cooed in your ear and your thighs started shaking while you toppled over the edge, head thumping on the the sheets while your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

Millie was good with her fingers. Way too good for this to be her first time. Her fingers were thick and big, a huge difference from Rachel's long and slim ones. Your chest was heaving from the deep breaths you were taking desperate to gulp down as much air as you can. When you opened your eyes what you saw made heat immediately pool at your lower belly once more.

Rachel was now sitting on the bed, mouth stuffed with Millie's fingers as she sucked and licked to clean them from your juices. Rachel was still wearing all of her clothes but not for long. you moved closer to the blondes and tugged on your girlfriend's shirt, a silent question to remove it. Millie removed her fingers from Rachel's mouth and quickly got rid of the of the offending garment.

It didn't take Rachel much to push the taller woman on the bed and get on top of her, their lips crashing against eachother. You saw your girlfriend pushing Millie's pants and underwear down, helping the taller woman remove them completely.

"I want to taste you." It was a whisper swallowed by the wet sounds of their lips brushing against eachother with passion but you heard it non the less. Millie nodded hurriedly and pushed Rachel lower. Her cunt was wet and aching and the only thing that will help is Rachel's mouth on her. Rachel looked at you before getting on her knees and she licked her lips before smirking.

"Why don't you sit on Millie's face sweet girl?"

Both you and Millie flushed red at the suggestion but both of you are eager to jump on the opportunity. Millie looks a bit unsure as to what to do when you climb over her face. Rachel pats her spread thighs to get her attention, knowing what her best friend is feeling even without being able to look at her face.

"Just focus on what I do to you so you can do it to her, yeah?"

Rachel doesn't see Millie's strong nod but she doesn't seem to care as she dives in anyway. She runs the flat of her tongue through Millie's sloppy folds and the defender moans, thrusting her hips against Rachel's face. You slowly lower your pussy on Millie's awaiting face and the other woman immediately copies her best friend's movements. Rachel lets Millie grind on her tongue relishing in the moans from both her and you as the sweet taste of Millie fills her senses.

Rachel grips Millie's thighs and pushes her head closer and moves her tongue higher to tease the blonde's throbbing clit. Millie's hips twitch against Rachel's face and her loud moans vibrate against your own clit. You throw your head back your hands clutching Millie's blonde hair as you curse loudly.

Your thighs start shaking, a second orgasm coming quickly since you're already very sensitive. Rachel decides this is the perfect moment to take Millie's clit in her mouth and suck. The blond stops working her tongue against you with her head so full of oust and pleasure. You whine pitifully at being denied but soon enough Millie sloppily takes the swollen bud in her mouth and your mouth drops open in a silent scream. It doesn't take much for you to come again with a yell of Millie's name.

You fell boneless on the bed next to her and watch breathless when Millie threads her fingers through Rachel's hair and tugs her closer. Rachel, you think, always looks so unbelievably attractive like this. On her knees with her face pushed against a wet and hot cunt her expression dazed and completely pussy drunk. Millie is close, you can tell with how her hips seem to be out of control and how her legs are wrapped around Rachel, twisting and pressing down on the sides of her head.

Millie comes with a low groan but keeps Rachel's face pressed against her core using what strength she has left to ride out her high on the blonde's tongue. Soon Millie lets her best friend escape and Rachel comes up for a filthy kiss, letting the defender taste herself on her tongue.

You quickly notice that Rachel is still wearing too much and most importantly the woman has been so focused on Millie and you that she hasn't come once tonight. Your eyes brighten dangerously when a great idea pops in your head.

"Rach is wearing way too much." You turn to Millie who is now propped up on her elbows watching her best friend with a hunger in her eyes. Rachel shifts her eyes from you back to her best friend and her face flushes red at your predatory gazes. Millie finds her dominance back and grips Rachel's thighs to drag her up the bed. Rachel's surprised yelp is muffled by Millie's eager mouth. The defender easily dominates the kiss and tugs Rachel's bra off. She doesn't waste any time before she roughly gropes her breasts and moves down to suck and bite the soft flesh.

Rachel bites her lip to stop any noises from escaping because the blonde always embarrassed about being loud. You move from the bed to the drawer underneath the bed and pull out Rachel's favourite strap to use. Seven inches proud, this strap is rarely worn by you since Rachel has a hard time taking it but this was a special occasion and after all you won't be the one to wear it.

You take the harness and turn to the two women on the bed. Rachel is now completely naked hips grinding down and desperately trying to find much needed pleasure against Millie's hips. Millie pulls back when she notices you, much to Rachel's dismay, and her eyes widen comically when she notices what you're holding. Rachel gasps when she sees her favourite strap and gulps when she realises that she'll have to take the whole thing tonight.

"Let me help you put it on Mills. Baby grab the lube, you'll need it." Rachel scurries off the bed and you make quick work of the harness, tightening the straps around Millie's hips. Rachel hands you the lube and gulps when you motion to her hand with your head. Rachel squirts a gracious amount in her hand and looks directly at Millie's eyes when she takes the strap on her hand, slowly moving her hand up and down. She coats the strap in lube and makes sure to put enough pressure so the strap presses against Millie's clit.

When Rachel deems the strap ready she happily lies down and spreads her pegs for you and Millie, her pussy glisening with arousal. Millie grips her thighs and positions herself, ready to enter Rachel until you stop her with a hand on her stomach. She looks at you confused but you only grin, throwing a teasing glance at Rachel.

"She can't take that yet. Let me get her pussy ready for you."

Rachel whines and hides her face in her hands but the embarrassment is soon overtaken by pleasure when you enter her with two fingers. You make sure to go slow and give Millie a good show, scissoring your fingers and stretching her tight hole. Rachel moves her hips in time with your thrusts but it doesn't do anything to help, the shallow and slow thrusts only serve as teasing. When you meet no resistance you add a third finger in and Rachel throws her head back with a frustrated groan.

"I can take it! Just, fuck, get on with it!"

You chuckle at her desperation and slowly take your fingers out, turning to look at Millie who's eyes are firmly locked on her best friend's dripping pussy." What do you think Millie?"

The blonde doesn't answer, instead she takes the strap in her hand and runs the head up and down Rachel's folds. Rachel's breath stutters when the head teases her hole.

"Fuck Mills stop teasing -"

Rachel's sentence is interrupted by a loud moan when Millie finally enters her, pushing in only a few inches of the thick appendage. Rachel spreads her legs wider, a clear invitation for Millie to go deeper.

The taller woman goes in and out with short but powerful thrusts slowly pushing the strap deeper. Rachel tries to keep quiet but she's fighting a loosing battle. The length of the strap keeps going deeper and deeper stretching her out in ways she's never experienced before. You lay next to her and your hand goes to tease at her nipples while your mouth creates new bruises on her neck.

"No need to do that love. You know I love how loud you're. And you know you're too much of a slut to keep quiet anyway."

Rachel whimpers and clamps down on the strap and Millie groans at the resistance. You perk up and grab Rachel's knees pulling them up until they're almost by her ears. The new angle allows for a better angle and Millie pushes the strap all the way down, her hips flash against Rachel's.

"Gods, fuck! Millie harder!"

You simply stared amazed, Rachel had never been able to take the whole thing before. But with the help of Millie she was being pounded into the mattress seven inches moving in and out of her. Millie's eyes moved from Rachel's face, filled with pleasure and flushed red, to her full tits bouncing in time with the strong thrusts. You decided to help by bringing your hand to her neglected clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves twitching and throbbing. Rachel almost screamed when you started rubbing hard circles against it.

"I'm close, don't stop!"

Of course she doesn't, instead Millie starts moving her hips faster and Rachel's voices closes up as her moans turn into sharp breaths. The most prominent sound in the room is the lewd sound of their hips slapping against. Rachel finally comes with a scream and Millie collapses next to her exhausted.

After a long shower session, cuddle time was due. Rachel was bundled in your arms with Millie next to her. Your usually over confident girlfriend was quite timid and very sore after the pounding she received so she was content with laying in your arms while you and Millie talked.

"This one won't be able to walk tomorrow, you know." You say and tap Rachel's hip teasingly."And since it's your fault you're going to carry her wherever she wants." Rachel only smiles against the soft skin of your neck when Millie gasps.

"I was that good wasn't I?" Millie gloats after a few seconds of silence.

"Oh rubbish! I can make her take a bigger one."

Millie scoffed and Rachel slapped your stomach.

____________________________________________________

[badasbebi]

not my fault ➛ 2/2

read part one

✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: discovering that a cute girl you saw at your college orientation is your roommate, you become eager to get to know her. however, things quickly go awry when she turns out to be much more difficult to get along with than you could've imagined and abruptly leaves you in the dust. fueled by your terrible experiences with her and rumors about her dating habits, you swear to stay away from her at all costs. will you be able to keep your promise?

✦ genre/au: fluff, smut, my poor attempt at a rom-com, college!au, enemies to lovers, (very slight) roommates to lovers

✦ word count: 9.8k (im still embarrassed)

✦ warnings: isn't proofread. MDNI!!!! top!bada, top!reader for 2 seconds, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), bada is a giver, one of my first attempts at smut so please bear with me lmao.

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At this point, the school needed to compensate you for how much time you were spending watching and judging their sports teams. Or, maybe you should be paying rent, with how often you're staying here. The thought alone makes you cringe. Tuition was enough. 

Your legs are crossed, and a notebook rests on your lap as you sit in the bleachers, observing the dance team once again. This time, you're not waiting for Lusher. You're here for Bada, who said she could only meet with you after practice today. You're just grateful you're indoors today, and away from volant objects.

It's been a few days since the interview, and you've managed to avoid seeing her in person as much as possible. You've been communicating solely through text, not even bothering to exchange words in class. You know it's childish, but you don’t have the vigor to deal with her head-on. Besides, this way, you can focus on your part of the project, and not Bada's... everything.

You scan the gym floor and pinpoint her. Today, she's wearing a short-sleeved shirt and another pair of cargo pants, driving you to deliberate about how many she owns. If you looked that good in everything, did it matter?

You shake your head, averting your eyes before she notices your staring. You're not even sure what the purpose of your being here is. You probably could've waited to come closer to the end of practice. it was an admittedly nice way to occupy your time while you waited, you assure yourself.

The team is working on a new routine, one that involves a lot of acrobatics. They're running through their routine for the third time. Each time, they seem to get better, their movements more fluid and precise. You watch, fascinated, as Bada twists and turns, her limbs moving in a way that seems almost impossible. She's incredible. She's probably the best dancer on the team, not that you would ever tell her that.

After what feels like an eternity, the music comes to an end, and the team collapses to the ground, panting and sweaty. You're a little out of breath just watching them.

"Good job, guys," Bada says, her voice ringing through the large gym.

"Thanks," someone calls out, her tone laced with exhaustion.

"Let's call it a day," she says.

There's a collective sigh of relief as the team gathers their things and starts to leave. A few people linger, chatting with each other. Bada is one of them, talking to a group of girls. You try not to stare, but it's hard not to notice the way she laughs and smiles around them.

You look away, darting your eyes around the room, when someone catches your eye. Once you realize who it is, your blood runs cold. How did you not notice her before? Probably because of Bada. Damn that woman.

Aiki is on the opposite side of the gym, standing near the door. She's talking to someone and hasn't seemed to notice you yet.

The last thing you need right now is to run into Aiki. That encounter last year was awkward enough. You have no interest in rehashing the whole mess, especially with Bada so nearby.

You snatch your stuff, flying down the bleachers at a speed you did not realize you were capable of. You take the steps two at a time, adrenaline is burning in your veins, nearly tripping over yourself in the process.

You finally reach the bottom, and without a second thought, duck under the bleachers, hiding yourself from view like a criminal hiding from the police. 

Your heart is racing, and you lean against a pole, trying to catch your breath. You peek out and see Aiki still hasn't noticed you. She's chatting animatedly with whoever she's talking to and doesn't seem concerned about finding you.

You breathe a sigh of relief, and slide down to the ground. You rest your head against the pole, and close your eyes, willing your heart rate to slow down. This was ridiculous. You needed to exercise more.

"What the hell, y/n?" a familiar voice calls from behind you. You scream, jumping up and banging your head on the metal.

"Ouch," you hiss, rubbing the tender spot.

"What are you doing?" Bada asks, her tone equal parts amusement and annoyance.

"Uh, nothing," you say, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"This is so weird," she states.

"Sorry," you mutter, ducking your head.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her tone softening.

"I'm fine," you say, brushing her off.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you sigh.

She takes a step towards you. "I can help you. I'm a nurse's aid, remember?" she points out, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"No, it's fine, I'm okay."

"Okay, well, if you're not gonna tell me what's going on, can you come out from under there, at least?"

"Uh—"

"Y/n?!" Lusher's voice rings out, running up to the bleachers.

"Shit," you whisper. You did not need two witnesses present for this mortifying experience. 

"What are you doing?" Lusher says, peering over Bada's shoulder. 

"Nothing," you call, trying to sound casual.

"Why are you hiding under the bleachers right now?"

"I'm not," you lie, wincing. 

"Y/n," Bada says, shaking her head.

"Shhh," you hush.

"You're ridiculous," she chuckles.

"Both of you, come!" you hiss. 

"Is she serious right now?" Lusher whispers to Bada.

"Apparently," she sighs.

"Come on," you say, reaching out and grabbing Bada's wrist.

You pull her towards you, and she stumbles, losing her balance and landing on top of you. The both of you yelp in surprise, and a laugh escapes your mouth. It's surprisingly comfortable. You resist the urge to pull her closer.

"Sorry," Bada apologizes, her face inches from yours.

"It's okay," you say, your breath catching.

You're suddenly aware of the warmth of her body and the closeness of her lips.

"Uh, we should probably get up," she murmurs.

"Right," you say, nodding, but neither of you move.

"Hello?! Are you about to have sex?!" Lusher's annoyed voice snaps you out of your trance.

"No! uh, let's get up. Seriously," you say, gently pushing Bada off.

“Good idea,” she agrees. 

Bada stands up, and holds out her hand, helping you up.

"Thanks," you mumble, feeling your face grow hot.

"Y/n, seriously, what is going on?" Lusher demands, her patience wearing thin.

You step toward her, glaring. "When did Aiki join the dance team, huh? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Lusher's mouth widens into an 'o'. She sticks her finger up, gearing up to defend herself. 

"Um, she didn’t,” Bada cuts in. "She's just helping us choreograph some of our routines."

"Oh," you say. 

"She’s really good, so I thought it’d be fun to collaborate with her,” Bada explains.

"So, she's not a member of the dance team," Lusher clarifies, giving you a pointed look. 

"Nope," Bada says. 

"Oh, well, uh, good," you say, a mixture of confusion and relief swirling within you.

"So, why are you asking about Aiki?" Bada asks, rubbing the back of her neck.

"She's my ex."

"What?" Bada's mouth drops.

"Yeah,” you admit, woefully. 

"Really?"

"It's a long story," you sigh.

"Huh," Bada says, looking stunned.

"So, that's why you were hiding under the bleachers?" Lusher inquires.

"Yeah. I didn't feel like talking to her."

Bada still looks dumbfounded. She's staring at you, and it's starting to make you nervous.

"Well, that’s silly! But I'm glad you're not in danger, or whatever," Lusher says.

"No. I was,” you deadpan. 

Lusher snorts and shakes her head. "Anyway, I know you're here for Bada. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll leave you guys be," she says, wiggling her eyebrows, out of Bada's sight.

You hiss at her, imagining strangulation. 

"Bye, Bada. Bye, y/n. I'll see you at home," she calls, sauntering away. 

You shoot her a middle finger.

"Bye," Bada says with a small wave. 

She turns to face you, and she stares at you, hard, her eyes unreadable. Your stomach churns with anxiety.

"Nothing," she says, a small smile forming on her face.

"What are you smiling at?"

"I just didn't know that Aiki was your ex-girlfriend."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," you retort.

"True," she says, the smile never leaving her face.

"Anyway, can we get going now? We have work to do," you say, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Right," she says. "Lead the way."

You walk side by side, the silence between you thick and uncomfortable.

"So," she starts, clearing her throat. "I was thinking...would you mind stopping somewhere and getting something to eat?"

You stop walking.

"Why? Are you hungry?" you ask, suspicious.

"Yeah, a little," she says, rubbing her stomach.

"What are you craving?"

"Anything is fine," she says, a little too quickly.

"Bada, just tell me," you groan, annoyed.

"Okay, fine. I've been wanting to try this new Korean BBQ place that opened a few blocks away."

You bite the inside of your cheek. Of course, she wants to go to a restaurant. You're not sure why you were expecting anything else.

"Um, I guess we could do that," you say, hesitantly.

"Great!"

You follow her as she leads you out of the gym and into the bright, warm afternoon sun.

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You find yourself sitting in the booth across from Bada, staring at a plate of food. 

"What's wrong?" Bada asks, noticing your apprehension.

"Nothing," you reply, forcing a smile.

"Okay," she says, not sounding convinced.

You pick up a piece of meat and put it on your plate. The smell is amazing, and your mouth waters.

"Are you going to eat?" Bada asks, gesturing towards your untouched food.

"Yeah," you reply, picking up a piece and bringing it to your lips.

"So, um, how have you been?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"Fine," you say, taking a bite.

"That's good."

"Yeah," you say, chewing.

"And, uh, how's your part of project going?"

"It's going," you respond, swallowing.

"Cool."

"Mhm," you hum, not bothering to elaborate.

You hear a sigh. "Do you always have to be like this?" she asks, exasperated.

You huff. "Like what?"

"Cold. Distant," she says. 

"Excuse me?" you snap.

"You're always so closed off. It's frustrating."

You drop your chopsticks. "Are you messing with me right now? You're the one that's been standoffish since I've met you. And what was with that whole moving out situation that you still haven't given me an explanation for, by the way?"

Her face softens. "Look, I'm sorry about all that. I was just...going through something."

"What were you going through?"

She averts her gaze, and fidgets with her chopsticks.

"Hey, it's okay, you don't have to tell me," you say, feeling bad for pushing her.

She bites her lip, and your eyes are drawn to the movement.

"I don't mind telling you, but can it wait until later? I don't know if it's the right time."

You nod, and return to eating, a little more at ease than before.

"So, you and Aiki?" she says, after a beat.

You freeze. You were hoping that she had forgotten about that.

"Yep," you say, your voice tight.

"How did it happen?"

You shrug. "It was just a short high school fling. But, you know, first lesbian heartbreak and all."

She snorts. "I get that."

"Really?" you respond, leaning forward. You're too nosy to pass up on this.

"Yeah," she says, a little sheepish.

"Who was it? Do I know them?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Is it Doyeon?" you guess, grinning.

Bada nearly chokes on her food. "What?! No. She's just...no," she sputters.

"Tatter?"

Bada squeals, shoving her head in her hands. "Ew, no! She's like a sister to me."

"Hm," you say, tapping your chin.

She glares at you. "It's none of your business."

You shrug. "I'm just surprised, that's all," you say, nonchalant.

"Why?"

"Well," you begin, resting your elbows on the table. "You're like, a total heartthrob. Everyone's crazy about you."

She lets out a bark of laughter. "No, I'm not," she says, dismissive.

"You are," you insist. "Do you know the vile things I've heard women say about you? I'm surprised you don't need bodyguards. You have literal fangirls."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, maybe a few girls like me. But, they're not crazy."

"I beg to differ."

"Whatever," she laughs.

"All I'm saying is that I'm surprised you've gotten your heartbroken by women before. It seems like you'd be able to get any girl you wanted, and keep them."

Her face grows solemn. "It doesn't always work like that," she says.

You're taken aback. Her eyes are a storm, dark and intense.

"I guess you're right," you agree, trying to break the tension.

She clears her throat. "Let's just eat."

You're confused, and a little worried, but you're also starving.

"Right," you say.

The rest of the meal is silent, the two of you not making eye contact.

After a few minutes, she finally speaks up.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," you reply, grateful to be leaving.

"Let's get going, then," she says, grabbing her card.

You slide your backpack across the seat, toward your body. "I'll pay," you offer, pulling your wallet out. 

"No, it's fine," she insists, reaching across the table and swatting your hand away. 

"Bada," you warn, a little annoyed.

"It's just one meal, and I asked you to come here with me. It's only fair that I pay."

You open your mouth to protest, but the look on her face stops you.

"Fine," you grumble, shoving your wallet inside your bag. 

"Thank you," she says, giving you a small smile.

She gets up, and heads for the door. You follow her lead, getting up from the table, uneasiness settling in your stomach. 

The two of you make your way to the cash register, where the hostess greets her enthusiastically. She hands her the bill, and Bada hands her the credit card, and the hostess takes it, grazing Bada's hand with a coy smile. You glance at one of the tables nearby, contemplating how much of a hassle it'd be to gouge your eyes out with chopsticks. You decide against it, knowing that you'd probably be banned from this delicious restaurant and would never be able to return. You sigh, depressed, and when you focus on Bada again, you're caught off guard by what you witness. Bada thanks the hostess and turns to leave, not bothering to wait for the receipt. The hostess frowns and calls out a goodbye, which is met with Bada's disinterested wave. You trail behind her, raising an eyebrow at her, and she ignores your questioning look. 

Rather, Bada grabs your wrist and guides you outside. You try not to notice the way her palm feels against yours. Yet, you are unable to suppress the smirk that emerges on your face. 

Once you're outside, she drops her hand, and you're reminded of the discomfort that occurred in the restaurant.

You squint. The sun has started to set, casting a glow over the city. The streets are crowded, the hustle and bustle of people passing by.

"Give me your bag," Bada demands, holding out her hand. 

You gape at her, then clutch your backpack, surveying your surroundings for any law enforcement. "Sorry, what?" 

"Your bag. Give it to me." she repeats, her hand still extended.

"Are you trying to rob me?" you ask, baffled. 

"What? No. Why would I do that?" she clarifies, incredulous. "I'm walking you home, and we have a long way to go. Your bag is gonna get heavy. So, give it to me." she explains, wiggling her fingers.

"Oh," you say, feeling foolish. You loosen your grip on your bag. "No need for that! I can take care of myself."

She gives you an impatient look. "Do you have to argue with me about everything? Just let me walk with you, please."

"Fine," you relent, sliding the backpack off your shoulder and handing it to her.

"Thank you," she sighs. 

She takes a step closer to you, and to your surprise, laces her free arm through yours.

"Lead the way," she instructs, motioning ahead.

You stare at the place where your arms are interlocked. "What are you doing?" you question, alarmed.

"What does it look like? I'm walking with you."

"Uh, I guess," you say, your heart racing.

"Ready?"

"Sure" you mutter, defeated. 

"Let's go."

You begin walking, your arms intertwined. Your pulse is erratic, and the closeness of her is sending heat waves throughout your body. You're sure she can feel the beating of your heart.

You walk in silence, the sounds of the city filling the air.

"I'm sorry if I got a little weird back there," Bada says, breaking the silence.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I didn't mean to make things awkward. I just...get a little sensitive when it comes to talking about my love life."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she admits, sighing.

"Well, that's understandable. It's hard talking about failed relationships."

"Exactly," she says, turning to look at you. "But, thank you for understanding."

You feel the weight of her stare, and a blush rises to your cheeks. What was going on with you right now?

"Don't mention it."

"Y/n," she says, her voice low.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for going to dinner with me."

"Of course," you say, your words caught in your throat.

"I had a really good time."

You can't think of a response, her brown eyes drawing you in.

"Me too," you manage.

Her mouth curves into a grin.

"Can I do something?" she whispers.

"Um, yeah, sure."

She leans in, and adjusts a strand of hair that's fallen onto your face. Your breathing quickens. You didn't even realize that a strand was in front of your face. Her eyes are locked onto yours, and her hand lingers on the side of your face. 

"Better," she says, her face centimeters away from yours.

You swallow. "I- uh- thank you."

She pulls away, and a sense of disappointment settles within you.

"It was nothing," she says, her eyes twinkling.

"Okay," you reply, unable to form a coherent sentence.

You're both silent again, and the rest of the walk passes in a blur. Before you know it, you're at your doorstep.

"This is it," you say, turning to her.

"This is your apartment?" 

"Yep," you confirm, reaching into your pocket for your keys.

"Alright, cool," she says, tossing you your backpack.

You catch it, the straps hitting you in the face. Please stop this madness, you think. At least you caught it. Maybe there's still hope for you. 

"Thank you," you say, slinging it onto your back. 

"Of course," she flashes you a bright smile, and your heart skips a beat. “I had a great time.”

“Me too,” you confess, your palms sweaty. "I'll see you tomorrow?" 

"Tomorrow," she echoes, her voice soft.

You're not sure what else to say, so you give her a small wave and head for the door.

"Goodnight, y/n," she calls gently, as you reach for the handle. You turn to look at her, and her eyes are shining, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Goodnight, Bada," you respond, giving her a smile.

She nods, and with one final glance, she turns and walks away. You watch her retreating figure, and let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"What the hell was that?" you whisper, your head spinning.

You enter your apartment. It's dark. Lusher must not be home, which makes you want to cry. You wanted to talk to her about today.  You throw yourself onto the couch. You replay the evening's events in your head, and as you do, you feel an incoming headache.

You sigh, and close your eyes. Tonight was weird. Really, really weird.

Your phone buzzes, and you grab it from the coffee table. You have one new message.

You unlock your phone, and check the message. It's from Bada.

Bada: hey, did you get inside your apartment alright?

Y/N: yes

Bada: good. i was just making sure. 

Y/N: thanks.

Bada: no problem. :)

You stare at the screen, and quickly type out a response.

Y/N: thanks for tonight. i had a really great time.

Bada: me too. 

Bada: we should do it again sometime!

Bada: I mean, other than our meet-ups for the project. 

This is when you remember for the first time since the end of dinner that the two of you are doing a project together. That was the original reason for meeting. 

You: yeah, definitely.

Bada: awesome!

Bada: sweet dreams <3

Y/N: night.

You throw your phone down. Your head is reeling. As you lay there, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, the memory of her fingers brushing your cheek plays in your mind. The warmth of her touch. The softness. And her eyes. Her eyes.

You let out a sigh, and rub your temples.

"Get a hold of yourself," you mumble.

But, no matter how much you try, you can't stop the butterflies in your stomach, or the warmth in your chest. Something shifted today. Maybe it shifted from the moment you began working on this project together. With every meeting, Bada proved to you that she's not the stuck-up, self-centered person you thought she was. No. She's smart. And she's kind. So, so kind. Gentle. Talented. Nothing aligned with the image of her that you created in your head.

As much as you've tried to push these feelings away, deny them, repress them, they keep coming back. And with the way she's acting, the way she's been treating you, it feels like she may feel the same. But, what if you're wrong?

The thought scares you. If she didn't reciprocate, the embarrassment would be insurmountable. It would ruin everything. Your seemingly newfound friendship. The project. Regardless of how great tonight was, you cannot help but think back to that day in the locker rooms, and how dismayed she sounded at the thought of asking you out. Even if her feelings have shifted and she finds you attractive now, what if that's all that it is? Attraction. Lust. The thought of it makes you nauseous. You're not sure you could survive her using you and then discarding you, like some kind of toy, like the other ones. 

No, it's better to remain friends. Just friends. Besides, you're sure that these feelings will dissipate soon. They have to. Right? Maybe you'd just steer clear of her for a little while to be safe. It'll give her the space she needs to forget about this, and give you the time to bury these stupid feelings.

You decide to text her.

Y/N: hey, i'm really tired. can we reschedule tomorrow's study session for next week?

She replies almost immediately.

Bada: yeah, no problem. are you okay?

Y/N: yes

Y/N: just had a long day.

Bada: alright, take care.

Y/N: will do.

Bada: oh, and one more thing.

Y/N: ?

Bada: thank you again.

Bada: i mean it.

Bada: and i'm glad that we're friends.

Your stomach flutters. Friends. Yes. This is exactly what you need.

Bada: goodnight.

Y/N: sweet dreams.

You toss your phone onto the couch, and get up. You're exhausted. Physically. Emotionally. You need to get to bed. You trudge to the bathroom, and wash up. Then, you change, and climb into bed. As you drift off to sleep, a million thoughts are swirling through your mind. But, the one that lingers is the image of her eyes, warm and bright, staring at you.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You're lying in bed, your laptop open, the blue light washing over you. The room is silent, save for the sounds of your keyboard, the tapping of keys. It's late. Really late. But, you can't sleep. Every time you close your eyes, you see her. Those brown, inviting eyes.

You groan and sit up. You need a distraction. You can't use your phone, because you'd have to face the dozens of unread texts from Bada that have been collecting dust for the past couple weeks. You haven't talked to her at all since that night, even going as far as to skip the class that you have with her. It seems like she's given up trying to reach you, as today is the first day you've gone without a message from her. Thank God. 

You pull your laptop onto your lap, and open a random YouTube video.

It's a funny skit. A couple. They're arguing. About something mundane, trivial. You find yourself laughing. For a moment, you forget about her. But, the feeling doesn't last. Because, after the skit is over, the next video starts.

It's a music video. Two women. They're singing. It's a love song. You can't focus on the lyrics, the images, the sound. All you can see is her. Those eyes.

You slam the laptop shut and throw it onto the bed.

"Dammit," you mutter.

You can't think straight. Everything is clouded by her. By Bada. You're losing your mind. You need air.

You stand and walk to the window. You look outside. It's quiet. There are few cars, no people. Just the lights, casting their glow upon the buildings.

You rest your head against the window, and sigh. You've never felt this way before. It's maddening. Infuriating. But, you can't help it.

You hear your door open, and Lusher steps into the room.

"Hey," she greets.

"Hi."

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," you reply, not turning around.

Lusher leans against the wall, studying you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Y/n," she sighs, "You know that you can tell me anything."

"I know."

"So, what's going on?"

"I don't know," you shrug.

She walks towards you and stands beside you.

"Come on," she insists, "Tell me."

"It's stupid," you grumble, shaking your head.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Fine," you relent.

"Let's hear it," she presses.

"Well," you start, "It's about Bada."

Lusher smirks. "I knew it."

"You knew what?"

"That you had a crush on her."

"Wait, what?" you splutter, turning to face her.

"You're so obvious," she accuses, crossing her arms.

"No, I'm not!"

"Oh, please," she laughs, "Even when you claimed to hate her it was written all over your face. I mean, why else would you be so upset over your roommate of one day leaving you? Because you had a humongous crush on her and got embarrassed when she seemingly rejected you!"

"That's not it at all," you retort. "It was the principle! I mean, filing a complaint against me is crazy."

"Y/n," she says, gently. "You have a crush. It's normal."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure if the feelings are reciprocated."

"You know, the day that you guys got paired up for that project, she sent me a text asking me what kind of coffee you liked. We'd never even texted before that," she reveals. 

You blink in disbelief. "What?"

"Yeah," she chuckles. "Apparently, she was trying to get on your good side and impress you."

"Wow," you mumble.

"But, I guess I ruined it for her," she jokes.

"Why'd you tell her about the coffee?"

"Because, I'm your friend. And I could tell that you liked her. A lot."

"I don't know," you say, shaking your head. "Maybe it doesn't mean anything. She's a flirt, and she's nice to everyone."

"You're not wrong. But, y/n, you gotta trust your instincts. If you feel something, go for it."

"Maybe," you respond, not sure if you're convinced.

"Just don't sit here and dwell on it," she says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"Can we get out of here?" you ask, still wanting a distraction.

"Sure. Where to?"

"Anywhere. The library. A bar. A club. Just, not here."

"Alright," she says, grinning. "Let's go."

–

Lusher brings you to a house party. You're not in the mood, but she manages to convince you to come. After a couple of drinks, you're feeling a bit more relaxed. The music is loud, and the crowd is rowdy, but you don't mind. It's a welcome distraction from your thoughts.

"There she is," Lusher shouts, pointing to a familiar figure.

It's Bada. Her hair is tied into a ponytail, and she’s wearing a short-sleeved patterned button-down shirt, black baggy pants. She looks good, as always. She's dancing with a group of friends. There are a couple women standing suspiciously close to her, giving her heart eyes. 

"Do you want to say hi?" Lusher asks, nudging you.

"No," you yell over the noise, "She looks like she's having fun. We should leave her alone."

She gives you a pitiful look and sighs. "If you say so."

You take another sip of your drink. You watch her as she dances, her hips swaying, her arms above her head. She looks happy. Carefree. You can't help but admire her, even now, in this house full of people. She's beautiful. Ethereal. The way the light catches her hair, her skin. She's captivating.

"Excuse me," a voice interrupts your train of thought.

You turn around. It's Aiki. 

It's settled. Someone has invoked a curse on you, and you're doomed to suffer incessant encounters with unattainable women who have broken your heart until the end of time.

"Hey, Aiki," you greet, attempting to hide your discomfort.

"Hey," she responds, her gaze flickering to Lusher. "And who's this?"

"I'm Lusher, y/n's best friend. We went to school together. I'm also on the dance team."

"Oh, right! The famous Lusher," she exclaims, offering her hand. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Same," she nods, taking her hand.

Aiki's attention returns to you. "Y/n, I didn't expect to see you here," she notes, sipping her beer.

"Yeah, well, here I am," you laugh awkwardly.

"You should come dance with us," she invites, motioning towards the crowd.

"No, thanks. I'm not much of a dancer."

"Really? You looked pretty good when we danced together," she comments, smiling.

You laugh. "Trust me, that was a one-time thing."

"Aw, come on. I'd love to see you dance again," she insists.

"No, really. It's not happening," you say, holding up your hands.

"Oh, c'mon. Just one dance," she begs, taking a step closer.

You mull this over, tapping your fingers against your cup. "Well, maybe just one."

"Yes!" she cheers, grabbing your hand.

You glance at Lusher, who offers an encouraging thumbs-up.

Aiki leads you to the dance floor, and the two of you join the throng of sweaty bodies. She begins to dance, her hips gyrating, her arms raised above her head.

"C'mon," she urges, "Join me."

You hesitate, not wanting to embarrass yourself, but her enthusiasm is infectious.

You begin to move, swaying your hips to the beat.

She steps closer, her hand finding its way to your waist. "That's it," she praises, her voice low and seductive.

Your pulse quickens. You can't help but be reminded of the last time the two of you were this close, the night when she asked you out.

Her grip on your waist tightens, pulling you closer. Your breath hitches, and your eyes lock.

"Y/n," she whispers, her lips inches from yours.

Your heart hammers in your chest. You feel her fingers trailing along your side, her body pressed against yours. The music drowns out all rational thought. All that matters is her, the heat of her touch, the sound of her voice. Her breath is warm against your cheek. Her hand caresses your neck, drawing you closer. Your eyes flutter closed, and—

A heavy weight comes crashing into the two of you, sending the both of you stumbling backward.

"Watch it," you snap, looking over to see the culprit.

And it's Bada, of course.

She's holding a red cup, staring at the two of you with an unreadable expression. 

"Sorry," she mutters, taking a step back.

 You glance at Aiki, who looks like she's bordering on being concussed, and then settle your gaze back on Bada. 

"Bada? Where the hell did you come from?" you question, rubbing your forehead.

Her jaw clenches. "Nowhere."

You let out a short, dry, disbelieving snort. “That explains a bunch.”

"Sorry," she repeats. "I tripped."

"Right," you say, not believing her.

"Where have you been?" she asks, taking a small sip of her drink. You study her face, noticing the pink flush on her cheeks. You'd assume it was the alcohol, but she doesn't seem drunk. 

"Around," you answer, crossing your arms.

"Well, I didn't see you at class," she points out, taking another sip.

"I was busy," you lie, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

"So busy you couldn't even give me a heads up?"

"Yup," you reply, popping the p.

"What about our project?"

"Is that all you care about?" you retaliate.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, sucking in a breath. "No, but-"

"Um," Aiki pipes up, lifting herself off of the floor. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No!" you say. 

 "Yes," Bada responds at the same time, venom laced through her voice.

"Bada," you growl, glaring at her. "Stop."

"Well, are you not done?"

"Done with what?"

 "Her," she spits. 

 "Alright, well," Aiki interjects, holding up her hands. "I'm done! I'm gonna head out, Y/N. I'll catch you later...or not." Aiki says, fast-walking away with a limp.

"Bada," you whisper, anger bubbling up in your throat.

"What?" she says, her gaze piercing.

"Are you kidding me?"

"What, did I ruin your date?"

"Date?" you scoff, shaking your head. "That wasn't a date."

"Uh-huh, right," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Me?" she scoffs, stepping forward.

"Yes, you!"

"You're the one who's being difficult here, y/n. Not me." she retorts, setting her drink down on a nearby table.

"How am I being difficult? All I've done is try and do the project. I've put up with all your shit."

"Forget about the stupid project! This is about us."

"There is no us," you shout, jabbing your finger into her chest.

"I know you don't mean that."

"You're unbelievable," you grumble, pushing past her, up the stairs.

"Don't walk away from me," she demands, chasing after you.

"Leave me alone, Bada."

"No," she protests, reaching for your wrist.

You stop, turning around. "I told you to stop," you yell, shoving her away.

"I'm not going anywhere," she warns, her eyes narrowed.

"God," you groan, massaging your temples. "You're impossible."

"And you're being a coward," she snaps.

"Coward?"

"You're avoiding me," she states, her voice steady and calm.

"Maybe I am," you fire back.

"Why?"

"Because, you're exhausting," you explain, throwing your hands up.

"Exhausting," she echoes.

"Yes, exhausting," you affirm. "I can't stand you, Bada. You're arrogant and conceited and-"

"You want me," she interjects, her voice barely above a whisper.

"W-what?"

"You. Want. Me," she repeats, each word slow and deliberate.

"I-I..." you stammer, rendered mute. You were not prepared for this level of confrontation. This is not how you expected tonight to go in the slightest. You couldn't tell Bada  you wanted her, even if you did. And, now, you know you do. More than anything. You've been wanting her for so long. But it's not like she wants you back in the same way.

"Tell me that I'm wrong."

"Bada, I—"

"Tell me that I'm wrong, and I'll never bring it up again."

You open your mouth to speak, but the words die on your tongue.

"See," she laughs, though there's no humor behind it.

"Shut up," you murmur, massaging your forehead. 

"No," she defies, stepping closer.

"You're so annoying," you complain, turning around.

She follows you. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know," you answer truthfully, stomping further up the staircase.

"Y/n," she pleads, grabbing your arm. "Just tell me that I'm wrong."

"Bada, let it go."

"Tell me," she begs. 

You turn around, infuriated, your veins pulsating. "What is the point of this? Do you just want me to tell you that I want you so that you can feel good about yourself?"

"The point of it is that I like you, y/n! I really, really, like you. And you keep pushing me away! Why?" She exclaims, throwing her hands up. 

You can feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you're too angry to care. Bada's confession should give you some solace, but it only makes the ache in your chest stronger. You need to get out of here. Get away from her. You can't deal with this anymore. You can't take it. She's too much. She doesn't understand. She doesn't know how badly it'd wound you if things didn't work out. If she ended up hurting you. Or worse, forgetting about you. 

"Because," you pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling, attempting to calm yourself down. “I don't want to get hurt."

“Y/n," she says gently, stepping forward.

"Don't," you warn.

"I would never hurt you," she reassures, her hand cupping your cheek.

You stare into her eyes, searching for any trace of dishonesty, but find none.

"I would never intentionally hurt you," she corrects, a sad smile on her face.

"Bada," you mumble, her hand warm on your skin.

"I know you're scared," she continues, her voice soft and soothing. "But I promise, I'll take care of you."

"Bada, you don't understand," you argue, stepping back.

"Then help me understand."

"I..." you trail off, unsure of how to continue. "I like you. I like you a lot. But I just cant stop thinking about that whole roommate situation. And...I heard you say something in the locker rooms one day when I was visiting Lusher."

Her eyebrows furrow. "What'd you hear?"

"You said that you didn't want to me. At all," you explain, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"Oh, y/n," she sighs. "That's not true."

"What?"

"I've liked you for a long time. Probably since I first saw you. That's actually why I switched rooms. I didn't think you'd be into me, and I was afraid of rejection, so I ran away," she confesses, her gaze cast downward.

"Bada," you breathe, shocked.

"But I'm done being scared. And I'm tired of running," she declares, looking back up.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I'm not going anywhere," she promises, taking your hands.

"Bada, are you sure? This is a lot."

"I've never been more sure about anything," she states, her tone firm. "But are you going to stop running too?"

"Bada, I—"

"Please, y/n. Take a chance on me." she requests, squeezing your hands.

 Was the risk worth it? Were you willing to put your heart on the line? Would she keep her promise and not break your heart? The questions flood your mind, threatening to overwhelm you. But, when you look into her eyes, the answer is a clear yes. Because, really, now that everything was on the table, when did she ever give you reason to doubt her? When did she not deliver? Maybe it was time for you to have some faith in her, just like she has faith in you, right now.

You exhale. "Okay," you relent.

"You will?"

"Yes,” you nod, vigorously. “Let’s give this a try."

"Yay!" she exclaims, pulling you into a hug. You laugh, wrapping your arms around her waist.

"I'm sorry I've been such a jerk. I felt so awkward and shy around you, I didn't know what to do" she apologizes, burying her face in the crook of your neck.

"It's okay," you say, running your hands along her back.

She removes herself from the embrace, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. She studies your face, her eyes roaming over your features.

"Can I kiss you?" she questions, her thumb caressing your cheek.

"I guess so," you shrug, feigning nonchalance with a sly smile on your face. Deep down, you've been waiting for this moment since the day the two of you met. You've dreamed about what it would feel like, how her lips would taste. You've thought about it while lying awake in bed at night, while doing homework. It's a constant, nagging thought. Her face draws closer to yours, and your eyelids flutter closed. You feel her breath fan across your lips. Your heart beats rapidly. Then, finally, her lips meet yours, and everything else fades away. It's like nothing you've ever experienced before. It's tender and passionate, sweet and perfect. You wrap your arms around her neck, deepening the kiss. As she holds you in her arms, your fears disappear, and a new feeling takes their place. A feeling of warmth, safety, happiness—more than that. When you part, the both of you are breathing heavily. Her eyes are wide, filled with wonder. You're sure your expression mirrors hers. Neither of you say a word. Instead, you just stand there, drinking in each other's presence. You're not sure how long you stay like that. 

Eventually, she lets out a soft chuckle, breaking the silence. "Was that okay?" she asks, biting her lip.

"Yes," you confirm. "More than okay."

"Good," she beams, pecking your lips. "Want to go back downstairs?" she offers.

"Actually, can we go to my place? Lusher will be gone," You suggest, hoping she catches the hint. You can't help but glance at her lips. You're eager to have her all to yourself. To be alone with her. To do whatever the two of you want. If the blush creeping up her cheeks is any indication, she knows exactly what you're insinuating. She nods, and the two of you descend the stairs, hands intertwined. She stops to grab her jacket, and once the two of you make it outside, the crisp, night air hits you. It's cool, and refreshing. As the two of you begin your walk to the apartment, she leans in, her shoulder brushing against yours. The contact sends a shiver down your spine. You can't believe how close the two of you are. How intimate it feels. It's a welcome change from the distance you've forced upon the two of you for the past few weeks. A small part of you is afraid. But a larger, stronger part of you is excited. Excited to explore this newfound intimacy, and whatever may lie ahead. And for the first time in a while, you feel genuine hope.

"Here," she offers, draping her jacket over your shoulders.

"Thank you," you murmur, wrapping it around yourself.

The two of you hop in Bada's car, the engine purring to life. 

"You cold?" she asks, turning the heater on.

"Yeah, a little," you admit, rubbing your hands together.

"Here," she offers, taking your hands in hers. You look down, watching as she runs her thumbs over your knuckles. "Better?"

"You're cheesy," you tease, rolling your eyes. Though secretly, her touch does make you feel warmer. Better. It makes your heart swell with affection, and the corners of your mouth turn up. It's like her presence is melting the ice surrounding your heart.

"I like cheesy," she counters, grinning.

"I'm lactose intolerant," you retort.

"Oh, no," she pouts, feigning concern. "Guess I'll have to come up with some other way to make you happy."

"I can think of a few things," you flirt, giving her a coy smile.

She just smiles, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. After what feels like an eternity, the two of you pull up, and Bada turns the car off. She hops out, making her way to the passenger side door, opens it, and extends her hand. You take it, and allow her to lead the way. The two of you climb the steps to the apartment, tension growing thick. Once you reach the front door, she lets go of your hand. You immediately miss the contact, and your heart rate picks up. You unlock the door, and step inside. She follows behind you, closing the door and locking it for you.

"It's freezing," Bada says.

"Yeah, sorry," you say, closing the door. "The heating's broken. It should be fixed by tomorrow, though."

"It's fine," she assures, wrapping her arms around you from behind. 

You lean back, savoring her warmth. You've fantasized about this more than you'd like to admit.

"Bedroom?" she whispers, kissing your temple.

You nod, tugging her through the apartment and into your bedroom. Bada shuts the door, and you turn to her, staring into her eyes.

"Hi," you whisper, placing a hand on her chest.

"Hi," she whispers back, placing her hand over yours.

You lean in, brushing your lips against hers. She reciprocates, capturing your lips with hers. Her hands slide down to your hips, pulling you closer.

You tilt your head, deepening the kiss. Your hands move to her hair, tugging lightly.

She moans into your mouth, her grip tightening on your hips.

You pull back, gazing into her eyes.

"You're so pretty," she murmers, her thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

"So are you," you counter, smiling.

She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours. The two of you stay like that for a moment, drinking each other in. Finally, you pull back, grabbing her hand. You shove her onto the bed, and then fall on top of her, your legs straddling her hips.

"Hey," she giggles, wrapping her arms around your waist.

"Hey," you reply, a smile on your face.

"You're so annoying," she says, leaning in. 

"And yet, you're here," you point out. 

She ignores this, deciding to press a kiss to your lips, her fingers moving up your back. You sigh into her mouth, your body relaxing against hers. She slides her tongue into your mouth, eliciting a moan from you. Her hands move to your ass, squeezing. You roll your hips, grinding against her. She groans, her grip on your ass tightening. She sits up, her lips never leaving yours. She scoots back on the bed, her legs spread, and you sit between them, still straddling her.

"You're such a tease," she says, her voice husky.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask, smirking. "How's this for a tease?"

You slip your hand under her shirt, tracing circles on her stomach, her abs. You can tell she's not wearing a bra. 

"I don't know," she sighs, her head falling back. "Keep going, and we'll see."

You lean down, peppering kisses along her jawline. She tilts her head, giving you better access. You suck on her pulse point, her breath hitching.

You move lower, kissing and sucking her neck.

She groans, her hand tangling in her hair. You smirk at this, trailing kisses down her chest. You unbutton her shirt, exposing her breasts. You take a nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the stiff peak. She lets out a string of curses, her grip on your hair tightening. You give her other nipple the same attention, relishing the noises coming from her. You trail your hands down her sides, settling on her thighs.

You're about to give her a command when, suddenly, she stops you, pushing your head away. 

Before you can protest, she grips onto your waist and flips you over. You let out a squeak of surprise. 

She stares down at you, a smug grin on her face.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice breathy.

"What am I doing?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow. "I'm getting revenge."

"Revenge?"

"Yeah," she replies, her hand snaking its way up your shirt. "For teasing me."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

She pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "I think I'm going to start with..."

She trails off, her gaze focused on your pants.

"What are you—" you're cut off by her hand moving to the button of your pants, undoing it.

She slides the zipper down, revealing the lace of your underwear.

"Nice," she murmurs, a grin on her face.

You're about to reply, when she moves her hand beneath the fabric, cupping you.

"Oh," you breathe, your hips bucking into her touch.

She begins rubbing slow circles on your clit, causing you to writhe underneath her.

"You're so wet," she states, her fingers picking up speed.

"All for you," you manage to get out, your breath ragged.

"That's what I like to hear," she says, slipping a finger inside you.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, your back arching.

She adds another, long, finger, stretching you.

"You're so tight," she marvels, pumping her fingers in and out.

You moan, grinding against her hand. She curls her fingers, hitting that sweet spot inside you.

"F-fuck," you curse, your walls clenching around her digits.

"Such a dirty mouth," she scolds, adding a third finger. She moves her mouth to your neck, her teeth scraping against the sensitive skin.

You pant, your toes curling as her pace increases. She hums in response, her fingers curling inside you, her thumb pressing against your clit.

"Fuck, Bada," you moan, gripping onto her wrist.

"You close, baby?" she asks, her breath hot against your neck.

"Y-yeah," you stammer, your hips meeting the movements of her fingers.

"Gonna cum," you mumble, your vision blurry.

"Mm-hmm," she nods, her gaze intense.

"Fuck," you cry out, and as your climax approaches, she removes her hand, leaving you frustrated and empty.

"Bada," you gasp, panting. "What the fuck?"

"I'm not finished with you," she states, a mischievous grin on her face.

"I wasn't either," you pout.

"We'll see about that," she teases, her hands moving to the hem of your shirt. She pulls it over your head, tossing it to the floor.

She gazes down at you, a hungry look in her eyes.

"Take those off," she orders, gesturing to your pants.

You oblige, sliding the rest of garment off and kicking it to the side.

"Good," she praises, a smirk on her face.

She stands, removing her shirt, pants, and boxers, her toned body exposed. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of her. She crawls on top of you, her body hovering over yours. She kneels in front of you, her fingers ghosting over your skin.

"So, you gonna finish what you started?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," she says, a glint in her eye. "I might."

She kisses you, her lips soft and pliant. You part your lips, allowing her tongue to slip into your mouth.

"Bada," you groan, tangling a hand in her hair.

"What is it, baby?" she murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip.

"Need you," you whisper, your hips bucking into hers.

"What do you need?" she breathes, her hand ghosting down your torso.

"Your fingers, your mouth, everything," you reply, a whimper escaping your throat.

"Everything, huh?" she teases, her fingers dipping beneath the hem of your underwear.

"Fuck, please," you beg, arching your back.

"Since you asked so nicely," she replies, her voice dripping with desire.

She ducks her head, her lips trailing kisses down your chest, her hands pushing your underwear down. You kick the last bit of fabric off, leaving you bare before her.

"Beautiful," she murmurs, her fingers circling your clit.

"Ah, fuck," you moan, your hands gripping the sheets.

She sucks on your inner thigh, her tongue tracing patterns on your skin, her fingers never stopping their ministrations. She spreads your legs, her hands pushing your knees up, exposing your wet, aching center. She exhales, her gaze hungry. She places an open-mouthed kiss to your slit, her tongue lapping up your juices. You keen, your hands finding her hair.

"More," you plead, your hips canting.

"Whatever you want," she promises, her fingers digging into your flesh.

She dives in, her tongue flicking across your clit, her nose brushing against the sensitive nub. You cry out, your body writhing beneath her. She wraps her lips around your clit, sucking hard. Your toes curl, and a low, guttural moan escapes your throat. She hums in response, her eyes boring into yours. She presses a finger to your entrance, her tongue continuing its assault on your clit.

"Please," you rasp, your breathing ragged.

She enters you, her digit pumping in and out.

"F-fuck," you swear, your head rolling back.

She adds a second finger, her tongue swirling around your clit.

"Bada, I'm close," you warn, your walls tightening.

She hums, her fingers curling inside you, her mouth closing over your clit, sucking hard, and you chant, your hands tangled in her hair.

Your climax crashes into you, and you cry out, stars exploding behind your eyelids. She works you through it, her fingers coaxing every last drop of pleasure from you.

You pant, your body trembling. She smirks, pulling her fingers out of you.

"Tired already?" she teases, wrapping her arms around you.

She grins, capturing your lips with hers, and you can taste yourself on her tongue. You melt into the kiss, your arms encircling her. 

"Get some rest," she suggests, pulling away. 

You pout. "But what about you," your gaze trailing down her naked form.

"I'm fine, we'll continue this another time," she reasons, kissing your temple.

"Fine," you relent, cuddling up to her and nuzzling her neck.

She rests her chin on top of your head, her hand gently rubbing your back.

"I'm really glad we met," you murmur, the exhaustion finally catching up with you.

"Me too," she replies, kissing the top of your head.

"You're gonna stay the night, right?"

"Of course," she affirms, giving you a squeeze.

"Good," you mumble, drifting off.

You smile, listening to the sound of her heartbeat, your eyelids growing heavy.

She whispers something that you can't quite hear, but before you can ask her what it is, sleep overtakes you.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You wake up the next morning to find Bada fast asleep beside you. You roll over, facing her. She's on her back, one arm draped over her stomach, the other above her head. She's snoring lightly, her features relaxed. You try not to coo at how adorable she looks, and instead, get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom.

You take a quick shower, and then put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. When you walk back into the bedroom, Bada's sitting up, her phone in her hand.

"Morning," you greet, crawling onto the bed and sitting next to her.

"Morning," she replies, her gaze focused on her phone.

"What are you looking at?"

"The news. Look,' she answers, handing her phone to you.

You read the headline.

'Improved conditions for the girls' basketball team after protests'.

"Oh, wow," you say, surprised.

"Yeah," she smiles, taking her phone back.

"Our project is kind of fucked now," you realize.

"Nah, it'll probably be fine. We'll just talk to the professor about it,"  she assures, putting her phone on the nightstand.

"What time is it, anyway?"

"12:30."

"Really? I thought it was earlier," you state.

"Well, we didn't get much sleep," she teases, a grin on her face.

"I wonder why," you reply, rolling your eyes.

She smiles wider and gives you a peck on the cheek. You laugh, her lips tickling you, your heart overflowing with joy. You felt like you were dreaming. Speaking of which, you suddenly remembered what she had whispered to you last night.

"Hey," you say, gently pushing her off of you.

"What's up?"

"Last night, right before I fell asleep, you said something," you start, trying to remember exactly what it was.

"Oh," she laughs, a blush forming on her cheeks.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, just... nothing," she says, shaking her head.

"Bada," you urge, poking her side.

"Ugh, fine," she sighs, running a hand through her hair. "I, uh, I said I love you."

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "What?!" you gasp, 

Her face flushes with embarrassment. "I know, it's stupid, and you don't have to say it back or anything, but I-,"

"Bada, shut up," you interrupt, pressing a finger to her lips.

"Huh?"

"I love you, too," you reveal, smiling.

"R-really?" she splutters, gazing at you in astonishment. 

"Yes," you chuckle, kissing her forehead. 

"Wow," she whispers, staring into the distance.

You laugh. "What, did you think I wouldn't say it back?"

"Well, I didn't really know," she admits, scratching her head.

"Of course I do," you insist, cupping her face.

She stares at you, her eyes wide. You stare back, your thumbs caressing her cheeks. Your heart swells as you smile at her, and her lips tug up into a smile. There's something so endearing about the way her eyes sparkle, her skin glows.

Then, she pounces on you, showering you in kisses.

"Hey, stop!"

"No," she giggles, her lips trailing down your jawline.

"Bada, seriously," you laugh, trying to push her off.

"Nope," she declares, her hands roaming under your shirt.

"Oh, my God," you sigh, giving in to her affection.

You hold her close, your arms wrapped around her. As she's getting increasingly handsy, you hear the door slam open.

"Okay y/n, TIME TO WAKE UP! I cannot believe you left the party without-" Lusher stops in the doorway, gasping as she lays her eyes on the scene before her. 

"Fuck," you curse, scrambling out from under Bada and falling onto the floor.

"Oh god," Bada mutters, standing up.

"Lusher, please-"

"Bada?!" Lusher screams, her eyes wide. "Oh! My! God! How did this happen? Wait."

You groan. Here we go. "Lusher, please let us enjoy our-"

"God I'm glad you two finally got together. I was sooo tired of hearing you two mope about how into each other you were. It's about time, seriously."

"Lusher."

"Sorry, you know, I had weird premonition when I fell asleep that you guys hooked up, but I wasn't sure. Guess I'm a psychic," Lusher exclaims, giddily.

"Lusher."

"Okay, well, I'm glad it's true. And also, I'm very happy for you. Anyway, I'm going to go now," she announces, backing out of the room.

"Thanks, Lusher," Bada laughs.

"No problem. Also, by the way, I'm going to be a bridesmaid at the wedding."

"LUSHER."

"What? Okay, I'm going, I'm going. Bye!" she shouts, shutting the door.

"Oh, my God," Bada mutters, sitting back on the bed.

"Yeah," you agree, crawling back onto the bed and plopping next to her.

"She's a character."

"That's an understatement," you laugh.

"Anyway," Bada continues, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Wait, what are you-,"

She pins you down, a smirk on her face. "Back to what we were doing!"

To Lusher's dismay, you and Bada spend the rest of the day locked away in your room, the two of you only coming out to grab snacks. And you couldn't be happier with how everything turned out. You almost laugh, remembering how hard you tried to convince yourself that you didn't have feelings for her, how you didn't want to date her, how she was out to get you.

But now, here you are, your head resting on her chest, her arms wrapped around you, her body pressed against yours. It's a dream come true.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

[frandomgorl]

I’ve decided to write about my Outsiders pet peeves

TRIGGER WARNING: Dally’s suicide

1. Saying that Ponyboy is bratty or over dramatic. First of all, he’s a freshman in high school. Mostly everyone I know was annoying as a freshman too. He JUST turned 14 in the book, so yeah some of the things he says are petty or rude, but he’s a child. Not only is he a child, but he’s established from the beginning as a character that feels things deeply, he contemplates things that he can’t really vocalize with a majority of the people around him. He has no parents, and he feels lonely after their death. I personally have siblings but if my parents died, especially at a young age, I’d feel lost and lonely too. Him having brothers doesn’t make the gravity of his parents death any less saddening.

2. People who watched the musical and said anything along the lines of “I don’t like that Dally committed Suicide”. Because he committed suicide in the book too. And it wasn’t like some secret that he did it, it wasn’t “heavily implied”. He wasn’t just lost and confused so he made trouble and was reckless. Because Dally was not unintelligent. He knew if he robbed the store, the cops would come after him. He knew that if he pointed the gun at the police, they’d shoot him. There was nothing accidental about his death, and to imply that is insulting the characters intelligence and minimizing his feelings. Assisted suicide is still suicide.

3. Anyone who demonizes Darry, wasn’t paying enough attention to what ever version of the Outsiders that were reading or watching. I mentioned earlier that I didn’t like how some people talk about Pony, but Darry also tends to get demonized by a lot of people. A lot of people think that you can’t like both Darry and Pony, but that’s not true. Darry was doing his best in his circumstance and always had Ponyboy and Soda at the top of his list of priorities.

4. People who write Dally in a way that glorifies his actions in life. I understand that everyone wants to think of the gang as these sweet little guys with an adorable found family. Hell, I love those fanfictions, but you can love a character and also understand that objectively they aren’t a good person. I love Dally, and I’m sympathetic to him because of his past, but I won’t justify the things he does. Dally does, and has done a lot of bad things in his life, and he has a lot of flaws. I’m not going to make excuses for him. I can be sympathetic to him, and also truthful about him.

5. I have seen some people talk about Randy’s redemption in a negative light. A lot of people saying it felt like too little too late. However, Randy having that redemption is so important because it emphasizes the similarities is the social classes. His arc also serves as a reminder that’s the docs were human too. He was an example of positive change within the series.

6. I understand if the outsiders isn’t your cup of tea, but just because you don’t like it doesn’t make it bad. I don’t like rom coms, but that’s not because they are bad, it’s because they are rom coms, I can’t sit through the genre. The outsiders is at its core a coming of age novel that still rings true for a lot of people today. So my last pet peeve is people saying it’s “it’s just a school assignment”. At its core it is an assignment but a lot of people see themselves in these characters and that’s something no one should feel bad about.

Thanks for coming to my TED TALK

[tsyvia48]

Cooking up something new.

Anthony Crowley, former porn performer current porn producer and director, is looking to make his first theatrical release film, a quiet, gentle, and romantic queer rom-com. Think Richard Curtis but with two male protagonists.

Aziraphale Fell, who writes under the pen name A.Z. McFell, has just learned that someone wants to option his first novel, *Petronius' Oysters* to make a film. When he finds out the someone is the person whose face (and body) was the primary object of his youthful fantasies, back when the vhs tape of *Seeing Stars II* was his primary masturbatory viewing, he doesn't know what to think.

Sexual tension, miscommunication, and romantic shenanigans ensue.

[missameliep]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @lorirwritesfanfic 😊🩷

I haven't participated in a WIP Wednesday in soooo long!

I actually have some snippets to share; I'm going through my drafts and planing to post all of those fics that are near ready.

Under the cut are snippets for: Bonds of Sea and Fire - Part 4 (Blades of Light and Shadow); Once Upon a Summer (Desire & Decorum AU); Second Chances - Chapter 25 (Desire & Decorum AU) and The one who got away (Ride or Die).

Bonds of Sea and Fire - Part 4 (Blades of Light and Shadow)

“You cannot...” he paused, searching for the proper word, “...charm your way out of a confrontation.”  “Do you want to bet?”  Tyril scowled at the suggestion.   “I'm in!” Mal joined the conversation, jumping from the wooden crate and landing with a loud thump on the deck. “5 golden coins you can’t!”  “Do you even have that kind of money?”  “Won’t you like to find out?” He wriggled his eyebrows and smiled at her.  With a shake of their hands, the challenge was accepted. 

2. Once upon a summer - Part 1 (Desire and Decorum AU)

Amusing some of his teammates and the group of girls, Hamid was in the middle of telling a story, when someone knocked over a heavy object near the entrance. Hamid’s eyes flicked to where the noise came from and to the influx of another group of students coming inside to fill the stands, amongst them a very beautiful girl he’s never seen in school and instantly caught his eye.   Turquoise backpack hanging on one shoulder, she moved slowly, and her long curly hair bounced around her face. It was a chocolate brown hair with golden shades that seemed like the sun itself had kissed, or maybe had just been following her for the dramatic purpose of stealing teenage boy’s breaths away. Whatever it was, her beauty was so enthralling he couldn’t look away, appreciating the long hair and shapely lips and bright eyes. If this was one of the rom-coms his sisters love, there would be a bubbly pop song playing in the background while the girl glided in slow motion, and when the camera turned in his direction to do a closeup, he would be looking dazzled with mouth slightly parted while trying to catch his breath. Nevertheless, no camera could ever capture the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her.  “So, what happened then? Did his father notice you two were gone?” Theresa Sutton’s questions ringed after what seemed like a dramatic pause in the narrative but turned into a play’s intermission.  Stunned, Hamid blinked a few times and failed to remember what he was telling them. Offering a wide grin, he clapped his hands, “Well, this will have to wait. Now I have someplace else to go and a record to beat!”  “That’s cruel, Hamid,” Donna Bowman protested with a pout, but it didn’t deter him.   Bending, he picked up the ball at his feet, and sprinted to where Yusuf Konevi, his dearest and oldest friend in England, was doing warm-ups with some of their teammates, without tearing his gaze from the beautiful girl, who was glancing everywhere from the benches at the side of the court to the stands, possibly searching for someone, and not once looked his way. Thank goodness, he was confident enough to not let this hurt his pride, and persistent enough to change that game.  Throwing an arm over Yusuf’s shoulder, he threw himself at him in a playful way.   “Hey!”  “Glad to see our star is finally joining us!”  “We’re all stars here,” Hamid said, flashing a grin, “we shine brighter together.”  The other laughed. “Smooth. I bet they’ll make you team captain soon.”   Looking over his shoulder Hamid located his target, standing alone by the stands, and asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Who’s that girl? I haven’t seen her before...”   “Which one?” the other asked before discreetly peeking at the direction he tilted his head.   “The one who looks like an angel recently fallen from heaven…” 

3. Second Chances - Chapter 25 (Desire & Decorum AU)

While her body reluctantly woke up and her brain regained consciousness, she was confronted by confusion and immense discomfort all at once, reminders of the insane amount of alcohol she ingested last night.   Her head ached as if samba percussionists were beating repeatedly their instruments out of cadence to punish her. The parchedness in her mouth seemed like she had wandered the desert for days. Trying to alleviate it, her lips parted, but her mouth had dried out and it was difficult to swallow and get rid of the disgusting taste sitting on her tongue.   The buzzing sound echoed again, attacking her ears, and she realized it was probably the mobile vibrating with incoming messages over the nightstand. Even though she wondered what time it was, the identity of the caller or texter and their reasons to be trying to reach her in what she assumed was the middle of the night didn’t pique her interest at all, if anything it riled her up for disturbing her rest. Mustering the strength to reach the nightstand to turn off the phone, she tried to roll over, but something blocked her path and restrained her motion. Not something, but someone.  In the dark she couldn’t rely on her sight, but her other senses worked perfectly, collecting information of quiet sounds of breathing behind her, the light pressure of a body against her back, and the arm she finally noticed dangling over her waist underneath the covers. And lastly, the fragrance that reached her nostrils was unmistakable. 

4. The one who got away (Ride or Die)

Once upon a time in what seems like another life, no one would spare a second glance at the shy teenager with untamed curly hair and oversized sweatshirts walking down the fancy prep school’s hallways with the nose stuck in a book. Back then she was just Ellie, the sheltered daughter of an LAPD detective with a single goal in life: get into Langston.  But then a bad boy – that was not so bad after all – waltzed into her life and introduced her to a forbidden world of illegal races, crime and betrayal. A world she was not supposed to know about, let alone desire to take part in...   Then love was added to the equation.   She fell in love, but not with this bad boy.  The thrill made her heart race faster than all those tuned cars. Every discovery about her abilities fueled the fire within and added to her confidence.   The process of unveiling these parts of herself drew her closer and closer to another bad boy – one dangerous enough to doom her entire existence. One she’d loved wholeheartedly and would’ve followed to the ends of the world if given the choice…  

Tagging a few of you who might want to share your WIPs with us: @princess-geek @rosesnink @lilyoffandoms @aallotarenunelma @jerzwriter @peonierose

Also tagging @choicesficwriterscreations

[pacific-rimbaud]

Excuse me?! Did I hear you say you just sat down and spat out A dress with pockets one random day?!?! The Mona Lisa of Panville?!!! I must be smooth brained bc how did you manage to pack so much delight and satisfaction in 3 chapters of IMPROV. Tiny chickens? Pregnant Ginny? Caffeinated Harry? Theo the womanizer? Babysitter neville? Pansy’s heel taps? THE FRENCH VASE???? You singlehandedly beat out all my favorite 2000s rom coms on the it factor and I must scream

It was super random and off the cuff, just messing around in fandom. It was my first piece of creative writing and still has a huge place in my heart. It was so much fun to write! Really an object lesson in showing up to have a good time. <3

[randombush3]

But She’s A Stranger

florence pugh x footballer!reader

summary: originally titled ‘saved’, because that’s what you and this blonde woman seem to be doing for each other

words: 10048

warnings: none (😮)

notes: okay i know i said no more football fics, but i couldn’t help myself. i really couldn’t and you’re going to have to deal with that!

a few of my fav things about writing this include having to check flo’s instagram to see what hairstyle she’s had at what time, creating multiple timelines of club transfers to keep things consistent, and learning catalan! i speak spanish and quite a bit of french so it could have been worse. i also don’t explicitly say this (i think) but the reader played for wolfsburg when she was in germany.

January is fucking freezing. The wind is biting and it rains a lot, clouds lingering, having had to hide for Christmas. The days are grey and dark, trainings are hard, and you’re miserable about being stuck in England after spending a week in Cuba.

You walk down Portobello Road simply because your sister forced you to watch that Hugh Grant rom-com and you’ve got a bit of time before you need to get back to St. Albans. After exploring most of the main road, you stray into a side street, and then another… and another. Until you’re slightly lost (very lost) and in need of food.

Florence Pugh is having a peaceful cup of coffee to make her feel like she’s had a productive day.

Her head snaps to the door when the bell chimes. People don’t often come in here. You sort-of-stumble inside, first looking as if you’re going to walk right out, then settling.

While she is sitting at her usual table (the one in the corner, always with a tulip in the vase), you are aimlessly flitting from seat to seat, deciding on whether this place is worth your precious time. Something about the confusion in your eyes draws Flo in, try as she might to remain incognito. “It’s good,” is all she says, barely looking up from her book, not wanting to have the safety of anonymity stripped away. You glance at the pale blue ceramic mug sitting on her table, and walk to the counter.

“Please could I have whatever she has,” you tell the barista, who takes a moment to understand what you’ve said and then nods with a smug smile. She had been hoping someone would have a little coffee romance in her café.

“Would you like that to go?”

You check your watch.

Hòstia.

Maybe you got carried away on your adventure.

It’s 3.47pm.

Jonas requested everyone meet for team bowling at four, expecting most of you to have been eating lunch together anyway (as that usually happens on Saturdays with the Arsenal women’s football team). Even if you weren’t known to be the most punctual on the squad, getting to St. Albans for that time when it’s 3.47pm now is impossible.

You smile nervously at the woman serving you, and Flo is now intrigued as to why such a beautiful woman looks so terrified.

“Yeah, to go would be great, thanks.” She nods and you are left waiting there, foot tapping, time ticking, nowhere interesting to look other than into those green eyes peering at you from the other side of the room. “Could you… Could you make it quickly, please?”

Flo snorts.

Someone’s just invaded her little sanctuary and then told the barista to hurry up, and she can’t help but find the awkwardness fucking attractive. Like you’re some action in a tranquil day, a rain cloud in a blue sky.

Zach is going to be listening to a very long rant about this later.

It strikes her that you seem different to anyone else she has ever met, though she can barely say to have met you. The way you carry yourself with an air of importance but a dash of humility, the way an accent she can’t place curls around your words, the way you frown at your phone as you furiously type away text after text at the object of your frustration.

The way your eyes meet hers when you realise you’re being stared at.

Before she can defend herself, give you some bullshit about the wall behind you, the barista hands you your coffee. “Thank you,” you say, smiling, though it feels a little ingenuine considering the speed the words tumble out.

As you switch your phone off and reach out to the machine in front of you, the barista grimaces. “Our card machine is broken, sorry. It’s cash only.”

Well she didn’t mention that before.

You gave your last bits of cash to Jordan, having lost some stupid bet about how many of her shots you could save. She said you’d keep a clean sheet; you were humble and said she’d get one past you.

“Merda,” you mutter. Looking up at the barista, you reply, “I’m so sorry, but I don’t have any cash on me,” a little panicked and ready to risk it all by dashing out of the shop.

You and the barista exchange a helpless look. She needs the money, but you don’t have it. It’s frankly super awkward, and makes Flo squirm in her seat. She really has to put a stop to this, she can’t bear to watch you and the barista be struck dumb any longer.

She stands and walks over to you, “here,” handing the barista a fiver and trying her best to ignore how your jaw goes slack. Have you recognised her?

(No, you’re just wondering how it’s possible to be this attracted to a stranger.)

(Like, this is one of those moments when you truly are no better than a man.)

“Oh!” you exclaim, finding words again. “You don’t—”

“It’s okay,” she says calmly, though she feels anything but. You have eyes that seem to pierce through her. “You can just buy me—”

But whatever smooth remark she is about to make is plucked from her tongue and swallowed by an aggressively abnormal ringtone. It’s a new experience to be shut down by a duck quacking, and an unwelcome one too.

You grimace once again, finding that this supposedly simple detour has caused more chaos than £5.00 coffee is worth. The caller in question is Beth Mead, recently granted close-friend status after she found you mid panic attack in the gym having been overwhelmed by the watt bike, having to constantly use your third language, and the fact that Ona was being a little standoffish the last time you spoke (you were being dramatic — she hung up on you in favour of going clubbing with her own team). Beth won’t tell you this, but Jonas realised you were struggling in London at the start of the season and asked her to keep an eye on you.

Keeping an eye on you has, apparently, turned her into your mother.

“Where are you?” is what she greets you with, her annoyance drowning out the faint sounds of a bowling alley in the background. “You can’t skip mandatory team bonding.” After a pause, the woman on the other end of the line seems to soften. “Are you okay? You’re not lost, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh, glancing at the stranger who you are now in debt to. She’s retreated back to her table, accepting defeat, allowing the universe to quell her potential one-night-stand or more. “I’m in Notting Hill. I got distracted by a café, but I’ll be on my way shortly.”

“You’ll be here in an hour, then,” says Beth, unimpressed. “I’m telling Jonas that you got lost, it’ll save you a lecture.”

“Thank you.” You’re grateful for Beth. “I’ll call a taxi now.”

Florence looks at you dumbly. You spare her a concerned look, but then realise she may have been… No, that’s absurd.

“Thank you,” you say once more, this time directed at the blonde, the curve of your lips undeniably attractive and the glint in your eye even more so. Flo nods curtly, attempting to save face, and then forces her eyes back onto Dune. It’s far less interesting than that entire interaction, but what can she do?

The door of the café shuts with a little click, the bell chiming once more, but Flo refuses to watch you leave. That’s creepy, she tells herself.

In truth, as you get into the taxi pulled up outside, you glance back at her, wondering who she is. Why does she look familiar?

You’re seconds away from figuring it out, having a right old lesbian ponder in the car, when Beth pops her head through the abruptly opened car door. “Hola,” she tries, “estas aqui, finalmente.”

“Sí, estoy aqui,” you reply, grinning. She realises your smile might be slightly mocking, pride replaced with slight frustration. “You tried. I’m sure you will improve.”

“It’s not fair if I’m trying to make you more comfortable and you keep talking to me in English,” she groans, but you wave her off.

“I’m grateful, but I need to practice my English.” The pretty blonde woman is worth the struggle. Not that you’re going to talk to her anytime soon. Because you don’t have her number. Or know her name. So really this is all a fantasy, and you’re being a little wistful and probably very horny. Thinking about it, the last time you slept with someone was at least two months ago, and even then it wasn’t the most mind-blowing night of your life. It’s not like the pretty blonde woman is your soulmate.

- - -

She becomes a dream for about a month, something that maybe happened but has become somewhat a fantasy.

As usual, your mother nags you about needing to date someone every time you call her, but unlike previous times where you find it easy to protest and defend your independence (loneliness), you understand what she means.

It’s so fucking stupid that you’re obsessed with a stranger, but it’s the truth.

How embarrassing.

On the 27th February, you forgo playing against Liverpool in favour of attending a big fundraiser for a mental health charity; an event your brother has strongly encouraged you to go to.

You realise why when you get there.

The banner adorning the entrance to the venue clearly states who tonight’s host is: Tomàs L/n. There is the same picture of him plastered around the place; chest puffed out proudly, his Barcelona kit underneath a blazer. No wonder he was so mysterious about this thing. His lack of warning means you actually have to do little interviews, wondering if anyone really cares what you have to say.

“How do you feel about your brother’s recent increase in his involvement with this charity?” a reporter asks you, mic held to your face as if you have an opinion on this.

“I think it’s good,” you reply vaguely. “It’s good to support something you are passionate about.” You can’t say anything else because you haven’t been briefed by his (admittedly over-bearing) publicist.

“You’re missing a match for this, despite playing time being hard to get for goalkeepers. Is family more important to you than your career — seeing as you need the minutes to be selected for the upcoming Euros?”

An odd question, but okay.

Minutes are difficult, but you’ve been first choice all season. The Euros squad will be finalised in early June, though your agent is confident in your selection. “I think that supporting my family should always come first.” You smile. You’re on camera. “And it is a good cause.”

There’s a surge of movement behind you, shuffling and shouting, clamouring for attention. Cameras begin to flash excessively, and before you can turn around, your brother is beside you.

“Hi,” he greets the reporter, grinning with sparkling teeth and a glint in his eye. “Could I borrow her, thanks!” He places a hand on your shoulder and steers you further into the crowd until you reach a corner that isn’t deserted enough to draw attention to the two of you. It being towards the back of the venue makes it somewhere that feels less exposed than the edges nearing the press

“Fuck you,” you hiss in Catalan, happy to switch back to something natural now that you’re alone. “You’re such a dickhead.” He came all the way from Spain to host this event, but you suspect this isn’t the actual reason for his trip.

“Am not,” comes his indignant reply. You scoff, rolling your eyes at his ridiculous ensemble. “Oh, you don’t like the suit? Cèlia said the same. Dolce&Gabbana sent it.”

“Yeah, well, your wife and I are right. It’s awful.” It’s very… loud. Crimson with golden roses. “I’m getting a headache just looking at you.”

“No,” he waves off with a smirk, “that’s from hitting your head against the goalpost.”

“You saw that?” you ask, scrunching your nose up at the memory. You had saved the ball at the price of a few brain cells, luckily scraping a pass in the concussion test you were forced to sit through.

“I’ve started watching your games more,” he admits earnestly. “Barça want you back, you know. You could come home.”

So this is why he’s here.

“To not be played at all?” you retort, walls going right up.

“They’d be crazy to not put you in goal now, and it’s good to play with the national team in the league. That’s easier if you’re actually in the country.” National camps have been going just fine. “I mean, haven’t you had enough of hiding abroad?”

You think about it for a moment. “Not really, no.” An indignant scoff follows, and then, “I have been back, you know. I flew to Barcelona that one time — and then I got the train from there to Madrid.” Plus, your old teammates (and national teammates) go on enough holidays for you to scrape by nervously in Ibiza and Mallorca, and relax in countries further away.

“Y/n, she left the country four years ago. You couldn’t possibly run into her.”

“My chances of that are even smaller in England,” you state firmly. You spent three years in Germany and she still managed to find you twice, conveniently appearing in her stupid, American law firm’s Munich office.. Away from mainland Europe is a safer bet, surely. “Maybe you could copy me and transfer to Arsenal, just like you copied me when I got into the Barcelona academy.”

- - -

Florence hates events held by footballers.

She rarely goes, and doesn’t if avoidable, but the cause is a good one and her publicist wants the media to paint her as a passive advocate for mental health awareness. Nothing too abrasive, but a quiet reminder of her support. It’s quite clever, really.

Sulking in the corner, she sips her martini with a scowl, watching the crowd wearily. The invitees are not her type of people and most seem to have cleared out Dolce&Gabbana’s SALE rack. The guy in front of her is the perfect example, golden roses sprawling across the back of his crimson blazer.

Internally, she rolls her eyes, taking another sip of her drink. This is unbelievable and won’t get interesting until the auction in two hours.

The man in front of her steps to the side slightly, revealing that he hasn’t been talking to himself but rather to someone who looks strangely familiar.

Your eyes meet hers and there’s a moment where you both go into mild panic mode. The recognition in your stare quickly turns into desperation as your mouth moves rapidly to reply to your brother’s opinions. Florence doesn’t understand the conversation at all, but realises she’s being asked for help.

The confidence people see in her usually isn’t real, but she squares her shoulders and walks up to you and the man.

“There you are!” She’s an actress for a reason. “I was just about to get another drink — I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

Your brother’s eyes narrow.

She slips an arm around your waist, hiding any shock about your muscular form, pretending she knows your name. You lean into her.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Flo has half a mind to send him a glare, but you do it for her. “Tomàs, no hi tonaré.”

The venom in your tone does something to Flo’s blood pressure. It’s sort of… sexy.

“What was that about?” she asks once you’re by the bar, snapping you out of a moody trance.

“My brother?” Your brother is Tomàs L/n. Interesting. (If Flo knew the first thing about the football world, she’d have realised who you were by now, but she doesn’t and so you remain nameless.) “He was being stupid. It doesn’t matter now. Thank you for saving me.”

She finds that she would’ve done it again in a heartbeat, which is a little weird considering she doesn’t know who you are. Flo secretly decides to chalk that one down to having just gotten out of a long-term relationship and needing someone to latch onto.

“No problem,” she replies with a smile. “I believe you owe me a drink…”

You smile. “Two martinis, please.” The bartender nods, looking exasperated by the demands of the overflowing bar.

“That’s my favourite,” Flo says — sort of whispers — as she bashfully looks away. The faint blush creeping up her neck and cheeks is hidden well enough by the blue lighting of the place. “How was your coffee?”

For a moment, you look at her blankly and her heart drops with embarrassment. Then, you let out a little laugh.

“I didn’t drink it. It spilled all over me in the taxi!”

“All that stress for nothing, huh?”

Not nothing, you think, but you’re not brave enough to tell her that. “I was recently introduced to Café Nero, and that tastes the most—”

“No!” Flo explains, pressing her hand to her heart. “That’s unacceptable.” You shake your head, laughing more, and she wants nothing but to hear it on repeat for the rest of her life.

“British coffee is unacceptable,” you answer, rolling your eyes. “But I found this place called Reinetta the other day. Very Spanish, very brilliant.”

“Are you from Spain?”

What a genius.

Your incredulous look quickly goes when you realise she’s serious.

“Yeah!” She notices how your smile grows wider but your eyes become a little haunted. “Hablo español,” you say with a smirk, sending her a superfluous wink.

And, if the bartender hadn’t interrupted by serving you your drinks, you would be well aware of how red she goes.

She takes a sip, groaning in appreciation. “This is a good—” She turns around suddenly, squinting at the woman waving at her in the crowd looking furious. “Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot. I’ve got to go.” You catch sight of the person she’s looking at; a stern-faced publicist wading her way through the mass of people to get to her client. In a last ditch attempt of actually getting to know you, she throws out, “you should totally show me this Spanish coffee place,” and rushes off to meet her publicist.

You stand stock-still. Stunned. Oh, that definitely gave you goosebumps.

The rest of your evening is mostly passive aggressive. With hardly anyone else to talk to, you end up hovering in whatever conversation circle your brother is in.

At the soonest possible moment, you leave and join the late-night recovery dinner at Beth’s house, earning wolf-whistles from everyone as you bundle through the door in your formal attire. Beth tells you to change almost immediately, throwing you a t-shirt and jog pants. “Recovery is all about wearing pyjamas,” she says, matter-of-fact. “And eating.”

“What have you made?”

She gives you a wry grin. “Come find out.”

The girls are sitting around her table, eagerly awaiting your arrival so they can tuck in. Jordan, Katie, Jen, Steph, and (surprisingly) Viv are all eyeing the food like starving wolves would look at a herd of sheep. It smells good and familiar and like Beth has kidnapped your abuela and chained her to a paella pan…?

You seem to fill with energy at the sight of the dish, and Katie announces she’s done being patient, spooning a hefty portion onto her plate and prompting Steph to do the same. They begin eating while you remain a little taken aback.

Beth nudges you. “I called Less and practically begged her to give me Ona’s number last week, sending her a text once I got it — to which your friend took bloody ages to reply. And then she was very difficult about when she could FaceTime, so when we eventually could I ended up making a mini version of her paella and memorising the recipe.” Her rambling is nervous. “But I sent her a picture of this one and she said it looked delicious.”

“Déu n’hi do, it looks delicious,” you agree, sitting down as quickly as possible and piling some onto your plate. Mouth now full, you continue, “it tastes like my mother’s cooking! It’s great, Beth, really.”

“She can cook,” Katie proclaims proudly, directing her statement at Viv; you think, for a moment, that she is going to list all of her positive qualities. Your eyes narrow and Beth shoots you a look that says ‘later’. “Y/n, can you cook?”

You almost choke on a prawn. “I can make pesto pasta. That’s it.”

Jen’s jaw drops. “You’ve only been eating pesto pasta this season?!” she asks, sounding scared.

“Yes, because I chose a club without Ona.” At Wolfsburg, you didn’t live on your own. Here you do. “I don’t mind. But Beth might have to make this weekly.”

“Absolutely not. This drained me more than any game of football ever could.” Beth motions at everyone to keep on eating, feeling accomplished that the meal is good. “Katie scored twice today.”

“Did you now?” She nods her head very proudly. “I bet I could’ve scored today.”

The laughter turns into silence as you eat contently, something that is broken when Jen goes, “where were you?”

The thought of having to talk about it causes you to grip your fork tighter, earning Beth’s hand on your shoulder. “Some charity event, right?” she replies for you. “Tomàs hosted it.”

“He came from Spain?”

“Yes,” you answer, and the girls hear how badly you don’t want to talk about this.

No one here knows exactly what happened, but when you abruptly transferred from Barcelona to Wolfsburg four years ago, you allegedly haven’t been back to Barcelona for longer than a day. Ona was saying to Beth the other day that with some convincing you can be persuaded to Ibiza (you’re about to be invited to two trips to the Balearic Islands), but anything on the mainland is strictly business — camps, games, the like.

Everyone has their theories, but Katie and Jenny think something happened between you and your brother. It’s not like you didn’t say outright in an interview that you have had a far better career than him despite being younger, yet he’s the one being paid €12 million a year.

“Guess what Ruesha fucking did yesterday,” Katie changes the topic.

Everyone groans.

“No one cares, Katie. Like I couldn’t care less.” Beth bites her lip to not laugh at Jen’s words. “Y/n, what’s happening in your love life? Got a girl, boy, cat?”

Feeling a bit like a deer caught in headlights, you look up from your plate. “I met a girl in a coffee shop in January. She was pretty.” You wonder how her interviews went. “I saw her today, actually. But I don’t date so—”

“You don’t date?” Steph asks, eyes widened a little.

“Yeah, because, like, it’s hard… with football.” They look at you like you’re a dog tearing apart a slipper: so unbelievably unimpressed. “Because it’s time consuming?”

In reality, you don’t date because your ex is the reason you can’t even be in mainland Europe, but they do not have to know that.

“So what’s this girl’s name and how did you go out with her if you were at an event?” Beth asks and it sounds a bit too much like a police interrogation for you to feel comfortable.

You shift your weight in your seat.

“I don’t know. She was just there.”

- - -

It’s the middle of March when you’re back in Notting Hill. With training sessions left, right, and centre, you’d been pretty much confined to St. Alban’s and Beth’s house for social activity. Today is a rare day-off, coincidentally aligning with both Manchester United’s schedule and Manchester City’s. Ona has dragged Leila, Laia, and Vicky down to London to see you.

“I can’t believe we had to come to you,” is the first thing Vicky says when you meet them at Euston.

“Wow, not even a ‘hello’,” you say back. “Come on, we’re going to a market.”

They roll their eyes. All of them. At the same time.

You wonder why you ever missed them.

Laia is the only one interested in Portobello, darting from stall to stall to another, excitedly giving you a rundown on her life while she does. Leila is hungry, and ruthlessly cuts her off.

“We get it. You felt sad for a week. I need coffee, Y/n, take me to a coffee shop.”

“It was more than sad,” Laia protests, but acquiesces to the group’s change of plans.

You lead them to the place you found in January — maybe this time you’ll actually get to try the coffee. But on the way there, Laia finds a mildly creepy clothes shop and manages to herd you inside. She flings clothes at the girls, while glaring at you for flirting with the shop assistant instead of letting the woman do her job and help.

You’re halfway to getting her number when there’s a commotion outside and the mood lighting of the shop is ruined by bright camera flashes.

For a moment, you wonder if they’re for you. People could have thought your brother was here, and the paparazzi love him.

But there’s something familiar about the voice shouting at them to back off; the rasp, the accent. Curiously, you look out of the window.

It’s her.

With brown hair?

Flo catches your eye immediately, and it doesn’t take much thinking for you to dash out of the shop to grab her hand and pull her inside.

The paparazzi have no choice but to crowd around the window, except none of their shots will turn out well once the shop assistant closes the blinds.

“Gracias,” Flo pants, out of breath.

Leila’s eyebrows shoot right up, closely followed by the rest of the girls. “Y/n, that’s Florence Pugh,” she blurts, thankfully in Spanish.

“Y/n?” Flo tries. Now she knows your name and her stomach feels settled with endearance. Your name suits you. “Thank you for saving me. I needed it.”

“I owed you,” comes your reply as you shrug.

“Y/n saves things for a living!” Ona butts in.

(Is she sabotaging you or being your wingwoman?)

There’s a tense silence, of which no one knows what to fill it with, until the shop assistant opens the blinds and informs Flo that the coast is clear. It takes that statement then to be repeated to snap you and Flo out of the mildly creepy eye contact you’re sharing, but once it does she can’t seem to look at you again.

She inhales and resets herself. “Right. I’ll be off. Things to do, people to see.”

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to feel embarrassed in front of your friends’ keen and watchful eyes. “Yes, yeah. Bye.”

“Bye, Y/n.”

With that, you let the woman you’ve been thinking about for months walk away, out of the shop, and down the street. You give yourself an internal kick for lacking the game you know you have in three other languages, but rub it better because now you know her name.

Florence Pugh. Like the actress from that creepy cult film Obi was obsessed with. And the girl from that Marvel movie.

You pause.

“The actress Florence Pugh?” Your question has Leila shoving her Wikipedia in your face. British actress, born in Oxford on 3rd January 1996. Florence Rose Pugh. Maybe you’d heard someone call her Flo before? “Oh, this is the girl I’ve been meaning to tell you about.”

“The girl with no name is Florence fucking Pugh?” Leila shrieks, hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “You know I love Marvel!”

“Sorry,” you chuckle, amused by her overreaction.

Vicky catches your eye, looking like she wants to say something.

Laia does it for her.

“You need to learn how to flirt in English, because that was atrocious.”

You glare at them both. Partly because it’s true.

“The Y/n who fucked four women in a week at the grand old age of eighteen did not just say — no, splutter — ‘yes, yeah, bye’ because she was looking at a pretty girl,” Vicky adds, smugly. “We have finally found the language barrier between Y/n and sex! Round of applause please!”

“Alright, alright,” Ona says, coming to the rescue. “Stop teasing her when she looks like a lovesick puppy.”

Fuck you too, Ona.

“Florence Pugh is practically a stranger.” You look at Leila, “we are not getting married.” You look at Vicky, “she is not being invited to dinner tonight.” You look at Laia, “she will not be upgrading your train tickets to first class.” And finally, you look at Señorita Ona Battle; the woman who has been your closest friend for years. “I am not in love.”

“I’m sure she’s in love too,” Ona says, pushing it.

“But she’s a stranger!”

Your friends are delusional because you’ve been over it in your head millions of times, clinging onto the shreds of interaction, and you can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve met the woman. Florence Pugh can possibly be categorised as a celebrity crush at best. What Ona is talking about is way too serious.

- - -

Flo is certain that Ibiza is a good idea. Or so she tells herself.

And, well, Harris tells her.

He thinks she’s been in a bit of a slump since she and Zach broke up. While Flo can barely talk about it without wanting to cry, she mourns the loss in a very vocal manner to her closest friends. She misses him quite a bit.

Harris allows her a month of moaning before putting his foot down; vetoing Flo not joining them in Ibiza because she is sad. “You’re single, you’re hot, and you’re one of the most sought-after actresses and you don’t want to go on a hot-girl vacation…?” His puzzlement is almost comical when he asks. “It’s for my birthday, babe. You can’t not come.”

Her valid apprehension is quelled with the promise of lots of alcohol and sun, and so this is how she ends up on the Spanish island. Harris calls this a ‘come-back curve’ — when you let loose again after being in a long-term relationship.

It’s fun, really. The beach, the time with friends, the drinking. This is the kind of life she had coveted during her youth; the one most believe comes with the fame. When there aren’t any cameras in her face, she feels at peace with her situation.

(Is this what getting over someone feels like?)

Except for one, tiny problem.

Whenever Will drags them all to a nightclub and pumps her full of vodka, she manages to avoid the gaze of every pair of eyes looking for someone to sleep with. Usually, Flo after ten vodka shots would be on top of someone or on her way out, but the days go by and she can’t help but cockblock herself.

She racks her brains to figure out the cause, the reason, but there is nothing in it apart from the echo of your laughter and the sound of you speaking Spanish. She closes her eyes and she can picture you, clear as day, grinning right back at her. She is not okay with it.

Obviously.

Despite the idea of you throwing her off her game, she is still easily convinced to venture out to nightclubs. Leading her here.

Paraíso.

It’s sticky inside; surfaces, people, floor. And packed. Bodies pressed to other bodies, hair trapped, shouting, screaming, singing.

For an already drunk group of people, it’s perfect.

Crammed into a booth in the heart of the club, Flo and her friends do two rounds of lemon drops, the sugar going everywhere. When her nose scrunches at the bitter taste of the rind, Harris snaps a picture, says he’ll post it later.

Good, she thinks. Maybe you will see her having fun.

If one was to ask, and Flo decided not to lie, it would be revealed that she has spent every night this week making her way through articles about you. Your Instagram didn’t take long to find, nor to scroll through, but it saddens her slightly to discover how little people write about you, and how much they write about your brother.

She is dignified enough to refrain from scouring your Wikipedia page.

Funnily enough, you have been doing the same, though the material to get through is significantly more substantial. Mapi has taken to calling it your ‘bedtime reading’, prompting you to announce very loudly to every guest sitting in your family villa in Ibiza that you own the place.

Well, your dad does. (Same thing though.)

Housed in said villa are Mapi and Ingrid, Ona, Laia, Leila, Patri, and Pina. Beth, Jordan, Leah and a few of their England teammates have come along too, staying in a boutique hotel not far away; about a fifteen minute walk. The groups merged very quickly after a bottle of wine.

As you get further into the holiday, you dive deeper into Florence Pugh’s digital footprint, and everyone else is very over it.

“This obsession isn’t cute,” Patri teases, snatching your phone as you spread out on the sofa. “But Leila wanted me to let you know that Florence Pugh is in Ibiza.” Your heart clenches hard; this could be a heart attack. “Oh, and we’re all going out tonight. England girls and us lot. Ingrid is also banning Spanish in case they think we’re talking about them, Pina broke the shower on the third floor, and Laia has fed that stray cat so much that it is now curled up in her bed.”

You glare.

Many of those things are so unbelievably far from ideal.

Patri raises her hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

In time, you wish you had and that your evening was being wasted away in jail, because this place is loud and busy and it is far from acceptable for you to go back to internet-stalking Florence Pugh around such interesting company.

The England girls have chosen a club called Paraíso, though you wouldn’t have known from the way they pronounced it. Most of them are dancing, but Beth, cheeks flushed from a few vodka sodas, has sat next to you in the booth, looking like she’s about to pour her heart out.

You turn to her. “Go on, then. Tell me about you and Viv.” And she grins like that’s the best thing she’s ever heard, launching you into a timeline of events that have you feeling disappointed in yourself about your situation.

If it all hadn’t been ruined, you could have been able to reciprocate the conversation.

It’s a bit like a knife to the stomach to be reminded of something you don’t have.

Eventually, Beth is finished, eyes shining because she is so happy with her and you are so supportive of it. She cares what you think, and is glad you approve.

“I’m going to get a drink,” you say, deciding there’s not enough alcohol in the world to make you feel better but that you can at least try. Beth nods and finds the others on the dance floor.

The bar is well staffed, and it takes all of two minutes for you to place an order of three Jägerbombs. All for you, but you hesitate to tell the bartender that.

Someone brushes your arm and your stomach drops to the floor.

“Hi,” she says, practically sparkling under the club lighting.

This is why you don’t come home. Fucking hell.

“¿Inglés?” you question, raising an eyebrow. Adela used to hate having to learn the language.

“Vivo en Nueva York en la actualidad.”

Tomàs was right. She doesn’t live in Spain anymore. So why is she here? Why is she in the last slice of your home country you can be persuaded to let loose in? Why does she have to ruin everything?

Though time feels frozen, someone else has placed their hand on your waist. You tense as you turn around, but hope Adela doesn’t see it.

When you realise it’s Florence Pugh, you are very close to running away to Australia in search of complete isolation.

“Hey, babe,” Florence drawls casually. She’s an actress, you remind yourself. Improvisation is a skill she’ll be great at. “You alright?” Her hand squeezes your waist in reassurance.

Flo’s hair is blonde again. It looks nice.

“Yeah,” you breathe, feeling a heat pulse through your body. “Just waiting on some Jägerbombs.”

Flo stands her ground. She wants to wait with you. She doesn’t want to leave you alone with the beautiful woman who’s got you on edge.

Is it wrong to feel protective over a stranger?

(Neither of you feel like such — a consequence of extreme internet-stalking on both ends.)

“¿Tu novia?” Adela asks. You smirk at the flash of jealousy in her eyes. “Pensé que estabas follando a todos a la vista como siempre.”

“No, es mi novia. ¿Tienes un problema con eso?” She shakes her head. “Bueno.”

“Sí.” She looks Flo dead in the eyes. “Adiós.”

The two of you let the silence take over, both aware of how she’s still got her hand on your waist, now with her body pressed up against yours.

“Your ex?” Flo asks, praying it doesn’t sound hopeful. There’s no way you’re not into women, right?

“Yeah,” you answer miserably.

She adjusts herself so that you’re now facing each other, but it only aids you both in feeling a little turned on. Seeing the other looking just as flustered does nothing to quell the possibility of where this night is going.

“Want to get out of here?”

She grins. You take that as a yes.

Her hands are sweaty as they cling to yours, but the club is packed now and she’d get lost if she didn’t hold on. Getting outside is like a rebirth, fresh air washing away the grime and a soft breeze cooling her down. That is until you look at her, biting your bottom lip.

“You can if you want,” she whispers as you sort of back yourselves into the alley beside the building. You place your hands firmly on her waist.

You smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And with that you close the space between you, pressing your lips against hers and a hand against the wall to support you both. She kisses back desperately, opening her mouth, clashing her teeth on yours. Her hands run up your back, wrapping around your neck.

You make out for a while, before she pulls away.

“I’ll call a taxi to my hotel.” She gives you the opportunity to text Ona.

You: no volveré esta noche

You’re about to tell your friend where the spare keys to your villa are, before Flo kisses you again, capturing your attention in order to direct you to the taxi.

From there, it’s a downhill slope of ripped clothing, walking into things, and being fucked into oblivion.

The morning comes brightly, unforgiving of any hangovers.

Her suite is really nice, but is partially destroyed by last night’s storm of a hookup. The sofa cushions litter the living area’s floor when you try to find her.

She is sitting on the sofa, hair wet, lazily watching the TV. As you laugh at the program, she snaps out of her brood.

“Do you understand what they’re saying?” you ask through your giggles. It’s a pretty crass show to have on at 10am.

“No,” she sheepishly replies. Her eyes tear from the screen to focus on you, examining your body from head to toe, resulting in a frown. “I went out and bought you something to wear.” She directs your attention to a shopping bag on the coffee table.

“You didn’t have to.”

“It was nothing, really.”

You pause.

She looks beautiful. You wish you hadn’t been so drunk. Now all this will be is a one-night stand.

“I’ve got to go. I thought I texted my friend where the spare keys were but I didn't, so they've all crashed at our friends’ hotel, and they’re not happy about it.” Flo laughs, recalling giving you enough time to let everyone know of your changed plans. Maybe you were too caught up in staring at her.

“No worries,” she says easily. “I’m headed to breakfast, but feel free to use the bathroom to clean up.”

There’s a stagnant silence.

Neither of you are going to further this interaction. Alright.

It will be fine. She’s less of a stranger now, and no interview could ever inform you on what your name sounds like as she moans it over and over again.

You tell yourself this again as you approach the England girls’ hotel, bar the last bit. (Though it does remind you of the game you once had.)

Everybody is waiting for you in the small restaurant, the group practically filling the space. There are many colourful words, both in Spanish and Catalan, being muttered as you walk in.

It’s fair for them to feel irritated, and you did leave as soon as possible to allow them back in. You probably would have slept in that expensive hotel bed for the rest of the day if Pina’s seventh phone call hadn’t awoken you.

“You are unbelievable,” is the first thing Mapi says, ignoring the questioning looks from the English girls. None of them speak Spanish, though you’ve heard that Lucy is learning. “Where were you? Pina says she saw Adela as soon as we walked in, and was about to go looking for you to get you out of there.”

“Well Pina didn’t do that,” you reply, folding your arms. Clàudia looks away guiltily. “And I spoke to Adela.”

“So you have a run-in with her and you take off? As if the years haven��t made a difference? As if you’re not over her?”

You clench your fists. “No, I was with a girl.”

“Which girl?” Ona excitedly interjects. “Do we know her?”

“Yeah,” you say, but intend to give them nothing else. “I just came back from her hotel. Would you like to get back to the villa or not?”

“Y/n, you’re such a dickhead.”

Beth asks for a translation.

Before you can omit the parts you don’t want her to hear, the whole of the group is made aware of what you got up to last night. Patri skips over the background information about Adela once she catches the way you are looking at her. If looks could kill, she’d be long gone by now.

The conversation evolves naturally into something more general, until everyone is gathering their things and leaving the hotel to walk to your place. With a group of fifteen, the pavement is cramped, meaning Ona and you pull ahead.

She nudges you when you go quiet for a bit.

“So…” Ona begins, smirking. “Tell me about your night.”

“My night was too scandalous for Onita to handle,” you tease, ultimately avoiding the question. Her eyes narrow and she grabs your wrist to stop you from crossing the road. “I’m not going to run away.”

“But you love running away!”

You sigh. “My night was good, Ona. Really good.”

Ona is clever enough to piece together a story in her head. Adela has a way of disrupting the flow of your life, and a certain someone is in town.

“Fucking hell, Y/n. You slept with Florence Pugh?!” she exclaims.

“Keep your voice down,” you say loudly, shaking your head as to not let the others know. “It was a one-time thing. A mistake.”

She studies your expression, realising how your regret was easily confused for sternness earlier. “You wanted it.”

“It’s a celebrity crush!”

“Not if you’ve actually met her. Then it’s just a crush.”

“You’re just a crush,” you retort. Ona bursts out laughing.

“You slept with your crush and it’s a mistake because she thinks it’s a one-night stand.” Your friend shakes her head in disbelief. “Now I remember why we stopped talking about your love life. It’s chaos!”

Technically, it’s because your love life went very dry once you reached Germany, but you laugh along with Ona because she’s right.

Your hushed Spanish is safe from the ears of the others, but when you lay your phone on the kitchen worktop in the villa, Beth notices two Instagram notifications.

@florencepugh has started following you.

And a DM.

+44 7701 923892 xx

Flo throws her phone across the room once she clicks send, and hides under the covers from a cackling huddle of her best friends.

- - -

Somehow, you are persuaded to cancel your flight to Gatwick and follow the girls to Barcelona. Now that Adela herself has told you she isn’t in your home city anymore, maybe you can visit for longer than five hours again.

When you knock on the door of your family home, you’re tackled to the ground by your mother. Though you didn’t go radio silent on them, the only time they really get to see you is when you’re playing a home game for the national team. Even then, it isn’t guaranteed.

“You’re home?” she asks, pinching your arm to see if you’re real. “My baby was driven out of the country by some stupid girl, so is this stupid girl dead or…”

“Mamá!” You frown and step past her to get inside. It smells like your little sister has found out what incense sticks are and burnt them everywhere. “I thought I’d visit before the Euros. I was in Ibiza anyway.”

“I know,” she says matter-of-factly, making your stomach turn with guilt. “Eva showed me how to work the Instagram.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise you checked.”

She smiles softly and it feels like everything you have been missing has always been here.

“Of course I check to see what you’re up to. Wherever you are. Especially since you stopped calling as much.” You shake your head as if it will make it better. You’ve been busy in a new country. You assumed having Eva and Tomàs was enough to keep her hands full. She seems to read your mind. “While your brother and sister are a lot, I’ve missed you.”

You’re suddenly fighting back tears.

“I’ve missed you too, Mamá.”

She pulls you into a calmer, firmer hug. The moment is ruined when Eva comes charging down the stairs, screaming at the sight of you.

The last time you saw her in person was when the Barça academy took her team on tour to Germany last year, but she’s acting as if you’ve come back from the dead.

She alerts the attention of everyone else in the house, meaning your grandma and dad flock to the kitchen, dropping whatever they’re doing. You can hardly blame them. You must have become a myth.

Plans are quickly made to go out to the usual spot for dinner with Tomàs and his family. Your older brother has a wife and three children that you never actually see. You haven’t met his youngest because he was born just before the pandemic started (as if you’d have visited anyway).

With that, you are integrated back into your old life.

You dust off your motorbike from the garage and go on rides through your city, watching the sunset from the rooftop of your friend’s old apartment building with Eva. She tells you about how her football is going; how everyone thinks it’s odd she plays neither in goal nor as a striker.

Growing up, you were forced to save Tomàs’ incessant (but increasingly more accurate) shots, meaning you’d had a fair amount of goalkeeping experience by the time your dad put you onto the football team he coached. You played what you knew. Tomàs hated being on the same team as you, but it didn’t last long when you were scouted and put in Barça’s academy. He followed soon after.

Eva, however, decided to stay away from her older brother and sister’s constant practice. She ended up on your dad’s football team too, scouted again by Barça, her name written down like you and Tomàs had done before her. At seventeen, she might be on track to be signing for the senior team next season. You promise to get the girls round and introduce her to them.

In turn, you tell your sister about the woman you keep on running into. How her eyes looked more grey in January than they did in May. How she makes you nervous, makes you forget how to do things. How you slept together five days before you arrived home.

You have her number, and you show your little sister. She begs you to call it, but you quietly admit you’re scared. She leaves you to move at your own pace, even if she finds it painfully slow.

As the days go by, you become Eva’s chauffeur. She finds it exciting to be driven about on your motorbike, and you have nothing to do but wait for the final Euros squads to be announced.

Your little sister often has places to be. Today it’s The Museu Picasso. Apparently, she’s ‘cultured’ and ‘sophisticated’ and will be getting high as a kite before entry. Makes the experience better.

As you weave through taxis and try not to run over any tourists, a certain blonde catches your eye. She sits dejectedly on a bench with her phone held loosely in her hand. You pull over without a second thought.

“Lost?” you tease, taking off your helmet. Florence startles and almost drops her phone, before coming to her senses and recognising you.

“Very,” she sighs. “My driver cancelled and I’m stranded.”

“Need a ride? She’s getting off here anyway.” You nod to Eva, who is looking affronted by the suggestion of that.

“Jo sóc?”

“Sí, Eva.” She stares at you blankly. “Baixes de la puta moto.”

“Ah. Aquesta és ella.”

You hum in confirmation. “Ara aneu a escampar la boira.”

Flo watches the conversation trying not to blush. The Catalan might be sexier than the Spanish.

After a second of rebellion, Eva gives in and gets off the bike, thrusting her helmet into your stomach bitterly. The museum really isn’t far away — about a ten minute walk — but it’s the principle. What happened to sisterhood?

You get off as well, unsure of whether Flo knows how to get on. She does, thankfully, meaning you don’t have to fumble your way through that. Dodged a bullet there.

At first she keeps her arms loosely wrapped around you, awkwardly holding on. When you speed up, she squeezes you tighter. If she hadn’t squeezed tighter and pulled you out of thought, you’d have been pancaked by an oncoming lorry (they’re memories — it makes it worse).

“Where am I taking you?” you ask, shouting to be heard.

“Coffee!” she replies, amusement audible. “There’s this woman I like who owes me one!”

You pretend you didn’t hear her second sentence, focusing on the road in front of you instead.

Florence relaxes quickly, enjoying the way the people change from tourists to locals; the buildings become more homely and less commercial. Barcelona is beautiful. Your eyes are brighter than when she last looked in them.

The coffee shop you take her to is the one you’ve been going to for years, though the colour scheme has changed from blue to red since the last time you came. The staff are fresh-faced and young, but the manager pulls you into a hug immediately. Flo hangs back, feeling like an elephant among the mice. She doesn’t understand what you say, and takes a minute to realise you want to know her order. Even then, she’s uncomfortable with reading anything off the menu and shrugs.

The manager, Pablo, is the son of the owner, and has worked here longer than you’ve been alive. When you first sat down for a coffee fifteen years ago, exhausted from a 10k run, he gave you a free biscuit on the side. You’ve been close ever since.

Naturally he asks who Flo is. Why is she here?

You can only shrug, say she’s a friend, and deal with his unconvinced expression.

Sitting opposite her on a wobbly table starts the first conversation you have intentionally had. One not tainted by alcohol or put in place to distract from an unwanted discussion. It’s now not a failsafe or emergency, but something you want to happen. It’s weird.

“Thank you,” she says earnestly. “I was a lot more panicked than I looked.”

You laugh. “You looked pretty panicked.”

“New city. Haven’t had a chance to get my bearings.” You wonder why she’s here. What do actresses do for fun? Would Florence go to a museum? “My flight got in yesterday, so it’s really new.”

“This is where I grew up.” She figured as such.

“I went to one of your games, you know,” she blurts. “The last one of the season. My friend was looking to invest, and I only put the pieces together once I saw you from the stands.”

“So you don’t know who Tomàs is?” She shakes her head and you look at her with horror. “Do you not like football?” you ask, eyes wide.

“Do you like musicals?”

“Touché.”

The corners of her lips twitch upwards into a smile. “French as well?”

“My talents don’t extend that far.” Innuendo settles in your words. Oh, she knows exactly where your talents lie. “In Ibiza…”

“Who was she?”

“An ex-girlfriend.” She raises her eyebrows. “The ex-girlfriend.”

“We all have one of those,” Flo says with a sly smile. “Mine got me kicked out of the school choir when I was fifteen. Yours?”

Your leg shakes anxiously. There is something so incredibly unfair about having to feel so horrible every time she’s brought up. As if she feels the same way. Your life was the one that was obliterated; the collateral damage.

Flo listens carefully when you talk about signing for Barça’s senior team and moving out. About the lifestyle you adopted from your brother; the parties and the drinking and the constant meaningless sex. And then, when you tell her that Adela seemed so mature, that she had her own place that was quiet, she actually understands. Zach felt like that. An example, a teacher. Someone who was safe and quiet and knew what they were doing.

You would sit quietly in Adela’s little flat while she did her work for her law degree, unwinding and relaxing. She’d stroke your hair and do yoga with you after rough games.

But Adela got tired of it. She was sick of always coming home to either an empty flat or you being exhausted, and she couldn’t handle how much she had to put her own life on hold because of your football. She had been offered a training contract at a big American law firm’s Spanish branch, which would require her to move to Madrid and work like a dog.

She said you were holding her back.

It was the most heartbreaking thing you ever had to do, because she gave you a choice: her or football. And you chose football. But you loved her a lot, and her leaving was like losing your favourite teddy. You became stuck in a dark place; you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Barça became concerned by your playing standard and you were replaced by another keeper. When the transfer window came, you ran off to Germany without so much as a goodbye to Barcelona and hoped to never have to run into Adela again.

“Good thing she now thinks you’ve got a super sexy, hot, famous new girlfriend,” Flo jokes when you finish, attempting to diffuse the tension.

It only adds to it.

“Did Ibiza mean anything to you?” you ask quietly, nervously. She catches your eyes and holds them, trying to make you feel better. Safer. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you for months,” she confesses, almost a whisper. “Before I even knew your name.”

“I should have called.”

“No, it’s okay. That was very bold of me.” She took a shot before sending it. “I’m not in Barcelona very long, but I have a hotel room and my hotel room has wine. And a—”

“Do we need a bed?” Your wink makes her cross her legs. “First, let me introduce myself, yeah? So we’re not strangers.” She nods. “I’m Y/n, and I saw you in that overpriced coffee shop in Notting Hill.” Pablo pretends to not be listening.

“Hola,” she tries valiantly. “Soy Florence. Call me Flo. Um, that’s the extent of my Spanish.”

“It was good,” you lie. She hits your arm lightly. “No, really! I’m sure you’ll learn some.”

“Oh, I did.” Her smirk is unsettling. “Dámelo más duro,” she moans, imitating you.

Your blush makes your face feel like it is on fire.

“We have got to leave this place right now, oh my god.” She gladly stands. You hand Pablo €20 because you’re not focused on how much money this will cost you. “You’ve got to never do that again. Especially not on the motorcycle. I’ll crash.”

“Yeah, I noticed how you nearly killed us earlier.” You don’t get to make a witty comeback, because she firmly plants her hands on your waist and kisses you hard.

Your heart soars.

- - -

It has taken six months for you and the mystery blonde woman to go on a date, but it’s perfect. You eat out at an Italian place, followed by a different kind of eating out later into the night.

On the 15th June the national team for the Euros is confirmed, she is at your family home, halfway through helping your mother to prepare lunch. The whole family swarm the kitchen to congratulate you on being the first choice of goalkeeper. They couldn’t be prouder.

When you kiss her in front of most of the crowd at the last game of the group stages, she has to wipe away your tears. While everyone else appreciates the effort of your clean sheet, your teammates are thankful you’ve found someone. They knew you seemed different the whole tournament.

Obviously, the quarter-finals are conflicting for Flo. She dons an England shirt, but while her friends seek out their Lionesses afterwards (famous people always think sports teams want to see them), she searches for you instead. You sob into her embrace and she knows how stressful the tournament has been for the whole squad. She supports you fully when you and fifteen other Spanish players email the Football Federation with complaints of the manager.

In September, she’s thrown into the middle of the current hottest scandal in Hollywood. You’re there for her to rant to, scream at, and talk with — even if most of the time it’s over the phone. She misses you the most when you’re away for matches, so for her to be filming in Budapest takes a toll.

Flo tells you that she loves you when you pick her up from Heathrow terminal three, something your little sister goes feral over (another Hugh Grant romcom, apparently).

You say it back without hesitating.

You say it over and over again until it’s your most commonly said phrase. The girls tease you for being obvious about when you get laid, because you can’t keep the smile off your face the next day. In truth, you grin anytime you see her.

Christmas and New Year’s with the Pughs makes you love her more, and you reflect on how far you’ve come since January. How she once didn’t know your name, but now can sort out your bills if you asked. Florence Rose Pugh means more than a Wikipedia page because you say it when you propose, and she manages to say yes in Spanish through her tears. It makes the 29th December a special day forever, and it’s still too cold in England for your liking but it’s an excuse to bury yourselves in blankets that night. And for all the nights to come.

She’s no longer a stranger but she has always been so much more than that anyway.

tags: @pewpughpew @ridleypugh @jeyramarie @flosbelova @kassies-take @delfiore @yelenabelovasbxtch @xsophiesx @slut4milfs69 @sunshadesnrainbowz @karsonromanoff