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MASTERLIST

˚✩˚ sophia

how to ruin a perfectly good friendship

˚✩˚ manon

complications

˚✩˚ daniela

headline: you’re ridiculous and i like it

headline: dating your boss (a masterclass in chaos)

arrested

spanish for dummies in love

one wish willow

˚✩˚ lara

lights, camera, action

˚✩˚ megan

across all time

courtside

˚✩˚ yoonchae - soon

[pulpfriction01]

☆ put dis star in the inbox of ur favorite blogs

😚

[pulpfriction01]

you don’t think it’s weird to be writing about paige (who is in a relationship with a woman) with a fake bisexual who’s dating a man?

🤯

paige being in a relationship with a woman has nothing to do with whether she can be written in fictional stories alongside someone you’ve arbitrarily decided is a “fake bisexual.”

bisexuality doesn’t get revoked based on the current gender of ur partner. and that’s not an opinion btw that’s just how identity works. if that concept is difficult to grasp… then phew, good luck babe 💋

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courtside — megan skiendiel

summary: you take your girlfriend to her first wnba game. she falls in love with basketball. specifically, one point guard.

tags: former d1 athlete reader, paige bueckers causing relationship problems (not really but kinda), men getting humbled <3

"absolutely not."

"megan."

"i said no, and i mean no."

you're sprawled across the couch, phone open to the ticketmaster app, trying very hard not to look as desperate as you feel. "it's the wings versus the liberty. it's literally going to be so good—"

"i don't even know what a liberty is doing playing a ring."

"a wing. dallas wings."

"see, i don't even know the words." megan doesn't look up from her nails, which she's very intently not painting because she ran out of the color she wanted three days ago and has been mourning it since. "basketball is just tall people running back and forth. i don't get the appeal."

"i played basketball my entire life, megan."

"i know that."

"i was a d1 athlete."

"i know that too, baby, but i don’t really know what that means." she finally glances at you, grinning. "i'm happy for your bouncy ball era. i just don't want to sit in an arena for three hours confused."

you're about to argue when lara, uninvited as always, wanders in from the kitchen with a spoon in her mouth eating directly out of a peanut butter jar. "just go with your girlfriend, megan. it's a date. free food. air conditioning."

"exactly," you say, gesturing at lara like she just solved world peace.

"also," manon adds, appearing out of nowhere the way she does, "the players are hot. like objectively. i've seen photos."

"i don't care about hot women playing basketball, i care about—"

"paige bueckers is playing." dani, who has been suspiciously silent until now, sits up straight on the other couch like she's been electrocuted. "wait, is paige bueckers playing? y/n. y/n. is she playing."

"she plays for the wings, dani, yes, she's playing."

dani makes a sound that can only be described as a fangirl screech. "i need to see her in person. i need this. megan you have to go so we can all go."

"i still don't know who that is."

"paige bueckers," yoonchae says, like she's explaining something to a child, "is literally one of the best point guards in the league right now. y/n, if you'd declared for the draft you could've been her. like, that could've been you."

"okay let's not exaggerate—"

"no it's true," sophia chimes in, nodding seriously.

"i'm still not going," megan says, but there's a wobble in her voice now, the kind that means she's four minutes away from caving.

"babe." you drop down next to her, doing the thing with your eyes that you know works on her. "please. for me. i'll buy you the churro."

"the overpriced arena churro?"

"the overpriced arena churro."

she stares at you for a long, dramatic moment, sighing like you've just asked her to donate a kidney. "fine. but if i'm bored we’re leaving."

"you won't be bored."

"we'll see."

•

the arena is loud and bright and smells like popcorn and beer, and megan is clutching a foam finger someone handed her at the door.

"why is it a finger."

"it's a foam finger, megan."

"why."

"i don't know, it's a basketball thing, just wear it."

she puts it on like it's radioactive. you're practically vibrating in your seat, pointing out things as the teams warm up: the rim height, the three point line, the way paige bueckers is effortlessly draining shots from half court like it's nothing.

"see, look at her form—"

"mm."

"the follow through, it's so clean—"

"mhm."

megan is not looking at the court. megan is looking at you, chin in her hand, a small smile on her face like she's watching something far more interesting than basketball.

"you're not even watching," you say.

"i'm watching you get excited. it's cute." she leans over and kisses your cheek. "you're lucky i love you, you know that?"

"i know." you kiss her back, smug and warm all over. "you're gonna love this, i promise."

the game starts. you're explaining fouls, explaining the shot clock, explaining why everyone's screaming when the liberty hit a three. megan nods along, still mostly looking at you, still mostly disinterested in the actual sport happening twenty feet away.

and then paige bueckers steals the ball on a fast break, weaves through two defenders like they're not even there, and finishes with a layup so smooth the whole arena erupts.

megan goes quiet.

you don't notice at first — you're too busy screaming, high-fiving lara, absolutely losing your mind over the play. it's not until the next dead ball that you glance over and see megan sitting very still, eyes fixed on the court, foam finger forgotten in her lap.

"you good?"

"hm? yeah. yeah, i'm good." she blinks like she's coming out of a trance. "she's just. really fast."

"she is."

megan doesn't say anything else. but for the rest of the quarter, you notice . she's quiet. weirdly quiet. she doesn't cheer for threes, doesn't react to blocks, doesn't so much as blink when the liberty go on a run.

except every single time paige bueckers touches the ball.

then megan sits up a little straighter. then megan's eyes track her across the court like she's the only person playing. and when paige hits a stepback three at the buzzer to end the half, megan is on her feet, clapping, genuinely clapping, louder than she's clapped for anything all night.

you side-eye her.

she doesn't notice. she's too busy watching number five jog back to the locker room.

second half, and it's more of the same. megan, silent and unmoved by everything — the dunks, the threes, dani's screaming, lara's terrible attempts at the wave — except for paige.

paige gets a steal: megan gasps.

paige draws a foul: megan mutters "that was so not a foul" under her breath like she's been watching basketball her whole life.

paige hits a fadeaway over two defenders: megan actually stands up, hands over her mouth, and goes "oh my god" so loud that the guy in front of you turns around.

you're staring at her now, full side-eye, arms crossed.

"what?" she says, noticing you finally.

"nothing."

"you're looking at me weird."

"i'm not looking at you weird."

"baby, you are.”

you drop it, because the wings pull ahead in the fourth quarter and everyone around you is losing their minds, dani is filming everything on her phone screaming paige's name like she's at a concert, and by the time the final buzzer sounds — wings win, and paige bueckers finishes with a near triple-double — the whole section is on its feet.

megan is on her feet too. clapping. genuinely, actually happy.

you decide to let it go. for now.

•

"okay," megan says on the walk back to the car, practically skipping, "that was actually super fun. when can we go again?"

you blink. "wait, really?"

"yes! i had so much fun. we have to go again."

"i mean — i can try to get tickets again, i'll see what's available—"

"okay but," she cuts in, way too casually, "can we specifically see the team that just won? like the dallas ones?"

you stop walking. "the wings?"

"yeah, them."

you raise an eyebrow — the eyebrow thing, apparently — and study her. "why them specifically?"

"i don't know, i just liked their energy."

"their energy."

"yeah!"

"megan, every time i've tried to talk to you about basketball for the past two years, you've told me and i quote, 'it's just tall people running,' and now you have opinions about team energy?"

"things change, y/n."

"things change," you repeat, flatly.

"yeah! people grow! people can develop new interests!"

you roll your eyes, mostly annoyed, a little suspicious, and decide not to push it further. "i'll see what i can find."

"thank you, baby." she kisses your cheek, entirely too pleased with herself, and you shake your head the whole ride home.

•

it starts small.

tuesday: you find megan on the couch scrolling tiktok, and when you peek over her shoulder it's a paige bueckers highlight reel set to some trendy tiktok song, edited with slow motion and text overlays.

wednesday: megan casually mentions, over breakfast, that the wings are "on a two game win streak, did you know that."

you did not know that. you don't think megan knew what a win streak was a week ago.

thursday: you walk past her phone on the counter and the screen is on the dallas wings instagram page, several posts deep, and one story-highlight click away from paige bueckers' personal account.

you: i think megan has a crush on paige bueckers

lara: lmaooooo

babe u took her to one game

this is entirely your fault

you: this is not helpful

lara: i think it's hilarious. anyway good luck w that 💀

you: lara

lara: 🫡

•

you and megan live together, which means there's no escaping the eventual conversation, and it happens on a wednesday over reheated pasta.

"babe,” you say, twirling your fork, deliberately casual, "you've been awfully interested in paige bueckers lately."

megan's fork pauses mid-air. "what? no. i mean — i just admire her."

"admire her."

"she's really good at basketball."

"i play basketball too," you say, unable to help the edge in your voice. "you've literally never hyped me up like that."

"i've never seen you play basketball, babe."

"i have highlight tapes from college. i've offered to show you. multiple times."

"that's different."

"how is that different?"

"i don't know, it just is." megan shrugs, going back to her pasta like this is a completely normal, unremarkable conversation and not the thing currently eating you alive. "she's just really impressive. that's all.”

you let it drop, but you tuck it away, deeply, for later use.

•

the following week, you're walking through the city with the whole group — lara, manon, dani, yoonchae, sophia, megan — heading to get food, when you pass a court where a group of guys around your age are playing a lazy pickup game, their girlfriends sitting bored on the bleachers scrolling their phones.

the ball rolls out of bounds, straight toward you. you catch it out of pure instinct.

"oh, hey," one of the guys calls, jogging over, "you play?"

before you can answer, lara's already grinning, stepping forward like she's been waiting for this exact moment her whole life. "you know this girl's a d1 basketball athlete? i bet she can beat all three of you in a 1v3."

"lara—"

"trust me." she doesn't even look at you, just smirks at the guys.

the guy laughs, looking you up and down, unimpressed. "bet. but i bet she can't."

and something in you — something competitive, something that's been sitting dormant since college, something that does not appreciate being underestimated — wakes up.

"give me the ball," you say.

the girls on the bleachers look up from their phones, mildly interested now. megan glances at you, just in time to see you toe the three point line, bounce the ball twice, and look at the three guys with a calm, dangerous little smile.

"ball in?"

what follows is, frankly, a massacre.

you cross the first guy so hard he nearly falls over, pull up from midrange, and drain it clean. 2-0.

the second possession you drive baseline, spin off your defender, and finish with a reverse layup so smooth the guys on the sideline actually go "oh," out loud.

by the fourth point you're taking it behind the back between two guys just to hear them groan.

you pull up from three — way beyond the college line, because why not — and it splashes through the net without even touching the rim.

"air ball— i mean, that's not — that's not fair, she's not even trying," one of the guys pants, hands on his knees.

"skill issue," lara calls from the sideline, cackling.

you're sweating, grinning, fully in your element, hair sticking to your forehead, moving like this is the easiest thing in the world, because it is — this is what your body has known how to do since you were nine years old. you cross another guy so bad he stumbles sideways into the fence. dani is filming. sophia is losing her mind. yoonchae and manon screaming your name.

and megan.

megan is not saying anything.

megan is standing very still, mouth slightly open, eyes tracking you across the court with an intensity that lara notices immediately — lara, who glances over, sees megan basically drooling, watching you like you hung the moon, and has to physically bite down on her own fist to keep from laughing out loud.

there it is, lara thinks, mentally patting herself on the back.

you finish the game with an and-one, drawing the foul and hitting the free throw anyway just to be petty about it. final score: 11-2. by a landslide. the group erupts, screaming, trash talking the guys mercilessly.

"eleven to two!" manon shouts. "eleven to two. and one of you claimed you could actually guard her!"

"LETS FUCKING GO!” dani calls, cackling.

you're laughing, breathless, wiping sweat off your forehead with the hem of your shirt, and you look — genuinely, unfairly — really hot right now, and you have no idea just how much megan is struggling right now.

you're jogging over to your friends, still riding the high of the win, when someone steps directly into your path.

blonde. blue eyes. one of the girlfriends who was sitting on the bleachers, except she's very clearly not looking at you like a girlfriend would look at anyone else's girlfriend.

"hey," she says, smiling in a way that's very obviously not friendly-neighbor smiling. "that was really impressive."

"oh, thanks." you're still catching your breath, trying to sidestep her politely to get to your friends.

"seriously, though." she steps closer, and her hand lands on your bicep, fingers pressing in like she's testing the merchandise. "you play like that all the time? because that was insane."

"i, uh. used to. in college."

"college, huh." her thumb traces a slow line over your arm. "i bet you could teach me a thing or two."

you're opening your mouth to politely extract yourself from this conversation when a voice cuts through, sharp as a blade.

"good game, baby."

megan's hand slides possessively around your waist and her mouth is on yours before you can even process it, a kiss that is decidedly not subtle, decidedly a statement, decidedly for an audience.

she pulls back just enough to turn and face the girl, sweet smile firmly in place, voice dripping with false pleasantness.

"i'm megan." a beat. "her girlfriend."

the girl's expression flickers — annoyance, then a slow, unbothered eye roll, like she's dealt with jealous girlfriends before and finds them predictable. "relax. i was just talking."

"you were touching," megan corrects.

the girl shrugs, already turning to walk away, tossing over her shoulder with a smirk: "well, if you're ever bored of your girlfriend, my instagram is—"

she doesn't get to finish.

megan shoves her.

not a light shove either — a full, both-hands, shove that sends the girl stumbling backward and landing hard on the pavement, more shocked than hurt, blinking up at megan like she genuinely cannot believe what just happened.

"MEGAN," you yelp, at the exact same moment lara shouts "okay—" and the whole group descends into chaos, dani and sophia rushing to pull megan back, yoonchae already apologizing to the fallen girl on autopilot, manon filming (because of course she is), and you grabbing megan's arm to physically turn her away.

"you don't just walk up and touch someone's girlfriend like she's a snack at a buffet," megan is saying, loudly, still glaring, as lara tugs her backward.

"megan, oh my god, let's go—"

"i'm just saying—"

"megan, baby, we're leaving, come on—" you're half-laughing despite yourself, adrenaline and secondhand embarrassment mixing into something dizzy, steering megan away by the shoulders while the girl picks herself up off the ground, dusting off her jeans, shooting one last unimpressed look in your direction before stalking off toward her friends.

"i can't believe you pushed her," dani says, delighted, the second you're all a block away.

"i can't believe she thought she could just TOUCH—"

"megan."

"what."

"i love you," you say, because you can't help it, because the whole thing was absurd and a little unhinged and also, embarrassingly, kind of doing something for you.

megan deflates slightly, crossing her arms. "she was disrespectful."

"she was," you agree, mostly to keep the peace. "you good?"

"i'm good." a pause. "you were really good back there, by the way. on the court."

"i know."

"i mean it. you were — you were really good." she's looking at you differently now, something warmer replacing the leftover irritation. "like, genuinely impressive."

"thank you."

"better than paige bueckers," she adds, entirely too seriously.

you snort. "you don't have to lie to me."

"i'm not lying."

"megan, you have three tiktoks saved of her crossover alone."

"that's different."

"is it."

"yes," she says, firmly.

she glances at you sideways, something a little heated behind it, and you decide you'll take the win.

•

the apartment is quiet when you get back. the kind of quiet that still feels like it’s buzzing from everything that just happened.

you barely get the door shut before megan’s grabbing your shirt, pulling you in like she’s been holding herself back the entire walk home.

"megan—"

"no," she murmurs, already kissing you again, a little breathless, a little impatient. "don’t talk yet."

you laugh into her mouth, but it melts quickly when her hands slide up your sides, gripping like she needs to feel that you’re real, that you’re actually here and not still on that court making everyone lose their minds.

"you’ve been like this since we left," you mumble between kisses.

"yeah, well," she says, nudging you back until your spine hits the door again, "whose fault is that?"

"mine?" you grin.

"yours," she confirms immediately, like it’s obvious. "you just—" she gestures vaguely, frustrated, "you didn’t tell me you were that good."

you raise a brow. "i told you i was a d1 athlete."

"i thought you were exaggerating!"

"why would i exaggerate that?"

"i don’t know," she huffs, then leans in again, softer this time, slower. "you looked so…" she trails off, like she doesn’t have the words, which is rare for her.

"so?" you prompt.

"annoying," she says, but there’s no bite in it. her thumb brushes along your jaw. "like you knew you were going to win. like it was easy."

"it was easy," you tease.

she narrows her eyes at you, but there’s something else there too — something warmer, something a little dazed. "exactly. annoying."

then, quieter: "i’ve just never seen you like that before."

that knocks the teasing out of you a little.

"like what?"

"like… in your element," she says. "i’ve heard you talk about basketball, yeah, but—" she shakes her head, searching. "that was different. you were so confident. and everyone was watching you and you didn’t even care, you just—did it."

your grip on her tightens just slightly. "you didn’t seem very interested when i was talking about it before."

"i didn’t get it before," she admits, voice small in a way you don’t hear often. "i thought it was just… a game."

"and now?"

she lets out a soft laugh, leaning her forehead against yours. "now i get why you love it."

a beat.

"also," she adds, "you’re insanely hot when you play."

there it is.

you smirk. "insanely hot, huh?"

"don’t let it get to your head."

"too late."

"ugh," she groans, but she’s smiling, and then she’s kissing you again. slower now, deeper, like she’s savoring it instead of trying to prove a point.

your hand slides up to her jaw, tilting her head just slightly, and she melts into it in a way that makes your chest ache a little.

"you know," you murmur against her lips, "earlier this week you were watching paige bueckers edits."

"oh my god," she groans immediately, trying to pull back, but you don’t let her.

"no, no, let’s talk about it—"

"we are not talking about that."

"you had them bookmarked.”

"i hate you."

"you said you admired her."

"i did!" she insists, then squints at you. "i still do. she’s talented."

she pauses.

then her voice drops, quieter, more serious than before. "but she’s not you."

"megan—"

"no, listen," she says, suddenly earnest, hands sliding up to cup your face now. "i got caught up, okay? it was new, it was exciting, and yeah, she’s amazing, whatever. but tonight—" her thumb brushes your cheek, softer now. "that wasn’t just exciting. that was you.”

you swallow, the teasing gone completely now.

"and i don’t just admire you," she adds, almost shyly. "i love you. a lot."

you don’t even think about it — you just pull her in again, kissing her.

she hums softly into it, hands slipping under your shirt this time, warm against your skin, and you can’t help the small breath that escapes you.

"see," she murmurs, a little smug now, "that’s the reaction i wanted earlier."

"you’re unbelievable," you say, but you’re smiling.

"and you’re mine," she shoots back instantly.

"possessive."

megan scoffs. "absolutely."

you laugh, pressing one last kiss to her lips, softer this time, lingering. "i still can’t believe you pushed her."

"i would do it again."

"you’re insane.”

“i’m as serious as a heart attack.”

"you’re lucky i love you."

"i am," she says, grinning, nudging her nose against yours. "and you’re lucky i went to that game."

"oh, so now it’s my luck?"

"yeah," she shrugs. "otherwise i wouldn’t have realized my girlfriend is basically better than half the league."

"half?"

"okay, fine. all of them."

you laugh, pulling her closer, resting your forehead against hers. "liar."

"only for you," she murmurs, and kisses you again, softer this time, like she means it.

and later, when you’re curled up together on the couch, her head on your shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm—

"hey," she says.

"hm?"

"next time we go to a game," she tilts her head up to look at you, "you have to explain everything again. like the plays. and the positions. and… whatever that thing was you did where the guy almost fell."

"a crossover."

"yeah, that." she smiles. "i wanna learn."

you press a kiss to her hair, warmth settling deep in your chest.

"yeah," you say. "i’ll teach you."

[pulpfriction01]

♱⃓ one wish willow — daniela avanzini

summary: one drunken wish on a cheap gag gift later, and dani becomes something else entirely.

tags: psychological horror, inspired by the film obsession (2026), the gag gift was NOT a gag, not proofread…yet

notes: um hi.. its been a minute. this is a bit experimental, messy, and horror-adjacent. little different from what i usually do. but its inspired by the movie obsession which i fw heavy, also inde navarrette i love u

the living room was dim and thick with the heavy quiet that comes after too many people and too much noise. the air smelled like spilled beer, tequila, and the sweet sticky residue of snacks left out too long, mixed with the faint floral perfume that always clung to the girls after a night together. empty bottles stood on the coffee table and the floor. plastic cups were scattered everywhere, some still half-full with flat soda or watered-down liquor.

sophia was sprawled on your green couch on her back, one arm flung over her eyes, breathing deep and steady. megan was curled on the rug, a blanket twisted around her legs. lara, manon, and yoonchae had ended up in a sleepy pile on the other couch, limbs tangled, soft snores rising.

the music had died half an hour ago, leaving only the low constant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak from the old building settling around you. everyone else had gone home. you were the only one still moving, because it was your birthday and you could not stand waking up to the mess tomorrow. you bent to pick up another cup, the sticky floor tugging at the soles of your shoes. you loved a good party as much as the next person, but tonight you had stayed sober on purpose, playing the good host while the others let loose. now the quiet pressed in and you welcomed the simple task of cleaning because it kept your hands busy and your mind from wandering too much to dani.

dani stood in the doorway from the kitchen, her figure outlined by the weak light spilling from the hallway. she had stayed mostly sober too, her dark curls a little tousled from dancing earlier, but her eyes were clear and steady as they watched you move.

“cmon, birthday girl. the mess will still be there tomorrow, i promise,” she said, her voice low and warm. “join me for a drink. outside. let’s go.”

you paused with the stack of cups in your hands, the plastic cool and slightly damp against your palms. you looked at dani and felt the old flutter deep in your chest. the one you had been carrying for months. the biggest crush you had ever had on anyone, probably.

“okay,” you said, setting the cups down. “one drink.”

you stepped through the sliding door onto the small balcony. the night air hit your skin like a breath of fresh air after the stuffy apartment. the city stretched below you, lights blinking in scattered patterns, a light breeze carrying the distant rumble of late traffic and the sharp bark of a dog a few blocks away.

dani poured two small glasses of leftover wine. it caught the faint glow from a streetlamp below, turning it a deep ruby. you leaned side by side against the metal railing, the cool iron pressing into your forearms.

“so how are things going with jonah?” you asked, keeping it light. “the dates, i mean.”

dani shrugged, her shoulders loose under her baby tee, but there was a sheepish tilt to her mouth. “wasn’t working out,” she said softly. “he was nice enough but it just wasn’t there, you know.” she paused and glanced sideways at you, her eyes catching the street glow, soft and a little nervous around the edges. “i have my eyes on someone else, actually.”

your heart gave a hard thump. “oh yeah?” you said, keeping your tone easy. “what’s the hesitation then? make it happen if you want it.”

dani took a longer sip of her wine and stared out at the city, the breeze moving strands of hair across her cheek. when she spoke the words came slow and honest, like she had been turning them over for a long time. “i’m scared of getting into something and having them realize i’m not what they expected. not in a bad way, just, it really takes time for me to be soft with people i date, you know? and i feel like that’s something most people need right away, and i can’t promise i’ll ever just naturally be that from the get-go.”

you listened, every word sinking in deep, and you reached out gently, touching dani’s arm in the cool night air. “the right person won’t expect you to be perfect right away,” you said, your voice warm and steady. “you learn how to be soft over time, with someone who makes you feel safe. it doesn’t have to be instant. patience goes both ways, and if they care, they’ll meet you where you are. you’re already enough just as you are, dani.”

dani looked up, her eyes shiny in the dim light, and you felt that old ache stronger than ever.

to cut through it, you remembered the small red and cream triangular box in your pocket from earlier. you pulled it out. “okay wait,” you said, laughing softly. “sophia and megan got me this for my birthday. wrapped it and everything.”

you opened the box and tipped it toward dani — inside was a fake willow branch.

“it’s called a one wish willow. the back says —” you squinted at it, flipping it over. “— spark the middle and break it in half. think carefully before making your wish.” you looked up. “on a gag gift.”

dani laughed.

“irreversibility: once made, a wish cannot be reversed or repeated.” you kept going, fully committed now. “usage limit: single use only. grants one wish. liability: users assume all responsibility for wish outcomes.” you snickered. “wish limitations: cannot grant wishes involving time manipulation, resurrection, immortality, or creating more one wish willows.”

dani was properly laughing now. “who wrote that?”

“some very serious person, apparently.” you chuckled, shaking your head. “sophia kept saying it was ridiculous. megan bought three of them.”

“you should do it,” you said, holding the box out to dani. “wish to be less of a coward about your crush. maybe twenty-four hours from now you’ll just show up to her door with a fruit basket and zero shame.”

dani rolled her eyes but took the box with a playful grin, because it was all ridiculous. she pulled the willow out, holding it up dramatically in the faint street light. “i wish i had zero shame about it. zero. i want to be the clingiest, most embarrassingly obsessed person to ever exist on this earth, specifically towards the person i like, and i want to feel no remorse about any of it,” she said in an over-the-top voice, clearly hamming it up for the joke.

she broke the branch in half, tossed the pieces over the railing without even looking at them, and dusted her hands like it was nothing.

the change hit the air instantly. a cold shiver raced through the night, making your spine tingle like invisible static crawling over your skin, and you saw dani’s shoulders give the smallest twitch. the breeze died for a heartbeat. the distant city sounds muffled into a strange, heavy quiet.

“you feel any different?” you laughed, except the laugh came out a little uncertain, because something had just shifted. the air felt different for a second. l

dani blinked and turned to you, her eyes a fraction brighter, more locked on, more intense than seconds before. then she smiled.

“i don’t think so.” the smile didn’t waver. it just sat on her face, steady and certain in a way dani never usually was. she closed the distance between you by one small step, her hand grazing your arm and lingering there in the cool air.

you felt a strange twist in your gut. you pulled your arm back gently, offering a small, awkward smile to cover the sudden unease as you glanced toward the sliding door.

“yeah, um, it’s getting kinda late out here,” you said softly, your voice a little tighter than you meant it to be. “we should probably head back inside. come on.” you turned away first, the faint static from that weird moment still humming at the edges of your thoughts.

•

the morning light filtered softly through the half-drawn curtains, casting pale stripes across the living room floor still scattered with empty cups and the faint remnants of last night’s chaos.

“fuck my life,” sophia muttered from the couch, her voice raspy. “who let me drink that much tequila again?”

megan emerged from the rug with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape. “water first. then coffee. or death. one of those.”

dani was already up. her hair was pulled into a bun, dark curls escaping around her face and the nape of her neck, wearing one of your oversized hoodies that hung a little big on her frame. she moved around the counter with easy familiarity, pouring coffee into mugs, the rich aroma cutting through the stale air.

“hey,” she said, as soon as she heard you move. her face softened into a warm smile that reached her eyes more than usual. “i made coffee. extra shot, just how you like it, with that splash of vanilla because i remembered you saying it cuts the bitterness.”

she carried the mug over with both hands so your fingers brushed, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. her thumb grazed the side of your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“you didn’t have to do all that,” you said softly.

“it’s nothing. you hosted all of us and stayed sober so we could be disasters.” dani shrugged lightly, but she didn’t step back. “i already started on some of the dishes. i can finish before we head out if you want.”

“dani’s in full mom mode this morning,” sophia teased. “y/n, you got the vip treatment.”

you spent the next hour slowly cleaning up together. dani stayed near you the whole time, handing you things before you even reached for them, laughing at the same stories the girls retold, but her eyes kept drifting back to you with a softer, more focused attention.

“you sure you’ll be alright here?” dani asked at one point, standing close. “i can stay a bit longer if you need company.”

“i’m good. really. don’t worry about me.”

dani was the last to leave, her hug lasting a few extra seconds, arms wrapping around you with quiet strength. “last night was really good,” she murmured near your ear. “text me when you’re free later, okay? i had fun talking on the balcony.”

you nodded, the flutter returning as dani pulled away with one last warm look before following the others out the door.

•

the rest of the day passed in a comfortable haze. by mid-afternoon you felt the tiredness from the party catch up and curled up on the clean couch for a nap, pulling a light blanket over yourself and drifting off to the low hum of the city outside.

when you woke up, the room was dimmer, evening settling in. your phone was buzzing on the coffee table.

six voice messages from dani.

sent over the past few hours while you had been sleeping. your eyebrows rose. that was a lot, even for dani. you settled back against the cushions and started playing them one by one.

the first: “y/n.” a pause, like she was collecting herself or deciding something.

“i’ve just been standing in the middle of the room. i don’t know how long.” a pause.

“it doesn’t feel right being here. it doesn’t feel right being anywhere that isn’t where you are.” her voice was soft. completely soft. “i think i need to fix that.”

the second followed almost immediately. “i keep replaying this morning. just the coffee. just the way you held the mug after i handed it to you.” a long pause.

“i’ve been sitting here and i think i’ve watched that moment in my head maybe thirty times now and i’m not — i don’t feel like stopping.” another pause, quieter. “i don’t think i could if i tried.”

third: “i shouldn’t have left.” flat. certain. “i kept thinking on the drive back about everything i could have done. everything i should have made sure of.”

a pause, and then a laugh. sudden, a little too bright, like it surprised even her. “god. sorry, sorry, it’s just so funny to me, the idea of being away from you, like why would i do that, why would i ever do that?”

the laugh faded but didn’t quite disappear, still threading through her voice underneath. “i’m going to fix it. i’m going to be better about it.”

another giggle, shorter, almost breathless. “i just need to be where you are. that’s it. that’s the whole thing.”

a pause. when she spoke again the laughter was gone completely, replaced by something very still and very quiet. “i don’t think i’m going to feel okay until i am.”

you felt goosebumps rise along your arms as you listened, one voicemail bleeding into the next.

the laugh kept replaying in your head even with the silence. too light, too sudden, gone too fast. you knew dani’s laugh. this wasn’t quite it.

you pressed play on the fourth anyway, because what else were you supposed to do.

fourth: “no one else makes me feel like this.” a pause. dead still.

“no one has ever made me feel like this.” the breathing shifted on the other end, slow and deliberate, like she was trying to hold something back, then had decided not to bother.

“you’re the only one. the only one i want near me, the only one i want to talk to, the only one that —” she stopped.

when she came back she was crying, quietly, almost privately, like you weren’t supposed to hear it but she was leaving it in anyway. “i miss you so much it doesn’t make sense. i’ve stopped trying to make it.”

a long silence. “why does it hit this hard.” flat. toneless. like she already knew and just wanted you to know she knew.

fifth: “i drove past somewhere that reminded me of you.” a pause.

“i pulled over.” another pause, longer, and you could hear nothing on the other end. no traffic. no movement.

“i’ve been sitting here.” she didn’t say how long. “you’re all i think about. every single thing. everywhere i look.” her voice didn’t waver once.

“i don’t think that’s going to change. i want you to know i don’t think that’s going to change.”

the sixth started with silence. three, four seconds of it before dani spoke. “i can’t focus on anything.” low. close to the mic, like she was somewhere small and dark.

“i’ve been tracking every minute since i left. what you’re doing. whether you’re okay. whether you need me there.”

a pause. “you need me there.” not a question. a conclusion.

“i miss you.” quieter now, almost a whisper. “i’m coming back, y/n.” a beat. “i just wanted you to know before i do.”

the sixth voicemail ended.

you didn’t move.

you sat there on the edge of the couch, phone in both hands, the screen still lit up with dani’s name and the timestamp and the little waveform that had already gone flat and still.

you played the last one again.

i’m coming back, y/n. i just wanted you to know before i do.

you sat with that for a second. then another. then you got up and went to your front door and stood there with your hand on the deadbolt, not sure if you were about to lock it or open it, not sure which one was the right thing to do.

your phone buzzed in your hand.

one new voicemail.

“you’re standing at the door right now.” a pause.

“i just know you are.” another pause, longer, and you could hear the night behind her voice. open air. close wind. very close wind.

“look out the kitchen window.”

the voicemail ended.

you stood at the door for a long moment. your hand was still on the deadbolt. you told yourself it was just a guess. it had to be a guess. dani was probably already home, probably already in bed.

you walked to the kitchen. you didn’t turn the light on.

you looked down.

dani was standing on the pavement below, neck craned up, looking straight at your window. like she’d known exactly which one. like she’d been standing there long enough to be sure. her phone was down at her side, screen still lit in the dark, and when you appeared in the window dani smiled, slow and unhurried, and raised one hand.

waving.

small and easy and completely unbothered by the fact that she was standing outside your building in the middle of the night, looking up at your window like it was the most normal thing in the world.

like she’d just been waiting to be seen.

you gasped and stumbled back from the window, shoulder hitting the wall hard enough to sting. your heart was slamming, your breath coming fast and useless, and that image of dani on the pavement below, was burned somewhere behind your eyes where you couldn’t get rid of it.

what the fuck.

you pressed your back flat against the kitchen wall and stayed there. didn’t move. you counted your own breathing until it slowed down enough to function.

after a while the silence got too loud. you edged back to the window, keeping yourself to the side, and looked down.

the pavement was empty. just the street, the distant glow of lamps, the quiet. no dani. no phone light cutting through the dark. nothing.

you checked twice. checked a third time. then you locked the front door — deadbolt, chain, both — and went through every window in the apartment before you let yourself go to bed. sleep came eventually, thin and restless, broken up by half-dreams where dani’s voice kept saying the same thing over and over in that calm, certain tone.

i’m coming back, y/n.

•

the next morning came in gray and flat. you woke up already tired, the night sitting like something heavy on your chest that coffee wasn’t going to fix.

your phone buzzed on the counter while you were staring into your mug.

hey y/n… i’m really sorry about last night. i drank a couple of beers in the afternoon and i went overboard. i don’t even fully remember sending all of them. i was drunker than i thought. that was not okay. i feel awful. hope i didn’t freak you out too bad.

you read it twice. then a third time.

it sounded like dani. the actual dani — a little embarrassed, a little self-deprecating, the kind of text you send when you’ve said too much and you know it. you wanted badly to believe it. you were aware of wanting to believe it in a way that made you trust it less.

you typed back after a long pause.

hey dani, don’t beat yourself up. we’re good, really. just glad you’re okay.

the reply came before you’d even set your phone down.

can i come over?

you stared at the words. set the phone face down on the counter. walked to the window and looked out at the empty pavement below without fully meaning to. then you picked the phone back up.

another text was already waiting.

please. ugh im sorry 4 being such a weirdo. let me make it up to you. i’ll bring breakfast and we can just hang like normal. i hate that i made things weird.

you stood there in your quiet kitchen, thumb hovering. the part of you that had been aching over dani for months was already softening at the apology, already constructing reasons why last night was explainable, why this was fine, why you were overreacting.

you hit send before you finished thinking it through.

okay. yeah, come over. breakfast sounds good.

the moment it went through you felt it. that immediate low drop in your stomach. like you’d just made a decision you couldn’t take back.

•

dani arrived thirty minutes later.

she knocked softly, like she was being careful, and when you opened the door she looked completely normal — curls loose around her shoulders, camo hoodie, baggy jeans, warm bags of indian food that made the whole doorway smell like cardamom and garlic. that familiar grin already in place like last night had been a bad dream you’d both agreed to forget.

“i brought your favorites,” dani said, holding the bags up. “extra garlic naan. mango lassi. the whole thing.” she stepped inside without waiting to be invited, moving straight to the counter to unpack. “figured we could use something good after last night.”

“you didn’t have to go all out,” you said, keeping your voice light.

“i wanted to.” dani looked up then, and there it was. that stare, steady and unblinking, holding just a second too long. warm on the surface. something else underneath. she smiled. “you feeling okay?”

“yeah,” you said. “i’m good.”

dani held the eye contact for another beat before going back to unpacking, and you turned away and told yourself you were imagining things.

you ate on the couch. dani was easy and funny, doing voices during the stories she told, making you laugh in spite of yourself, stealing the last piece of naan and pretending she hadn’t. it felt almost normal. it felt so close to normal that you kept catching yourself relaxing into it, kept having to remind yourself of the voicemails, the window, the smile from the pavement below.

dani refilled your water without being asked. tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and let her fingers linger a half second too long against your jaw. every time your eyes drifted away, dani would say your name — softly, almost gently — and pull your gaze back. not wanting your attention to be elsewhere even for a second.

you put on movies after. two of them, ones you’d both seen before. dani sat pressed close, thigh firm against yours, and laughed at all the right moments. you laughed too, when you could. your shoulders never fully came down.

by the time the second set of credits rolled the apartment had gone dark with full night outside. you glanced at the clock and made yourself say it. “it’s getting pretty late. you probably need to head home soon, right?”

the change was instant.

dani’s smile dropped. not faded — dropped, like a switch. her eyes went wide and her breathing spiked into something fast and ragged and she turned on the couch to face you fully, too close, close enough that you could feel the heat coming off her.

“i don’t want to leave,” she said, and her voice cracked on it, shot up too loud for the quiet room. “i’ll miss you too much. it already feels wrong, everything in me is screaming not to go. you feel that too, right? tell me you feel that.”

“dani, hey —”

“did i do something wrong?” the words tumbled over each other, frantic and overlapping, tears spilling down her face before you even registered they’d started. her eyes were huge, pupils blown wide, like something behind them had come loose. “are you mad at me? you don’t want me around anymore?”

her hands shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist, grip trembling and tight and not letting go. “please don’t make me leave. don’t you find me pretty anymore? i feel like you don’t want me as much as i want you, i feel like i’m losing my mind, what is wrong with me —” a laugh broke out of her suddenly, sharp and manic and completely wrong against the tears still running down her face.

“i can’t even breathe thinking about walking out that door. i don’t know why i’m like this, it’s spinning and i can’t stop it, please, please don’t send me away —”

her nails pressed into your wrist. not hard enough to break skin. almost.

“okay,” you said. the word came out fast, automatic, the way you talk someone down from jumping off a building. “okay. you can stay. just…stay. it’s fine.”

the silence that followed was worse than the spiral.

dani stopped crying. immediately. completely. the trembling hands went still, the frantic breathing leveled out, and the tears just stopped, like someone had turned off a tap. what replaced it was a smile, slow and wide and deeply, deeply satisfied, the kind that didn’t belong on the face of someone who had just been falling apart. it spread too far. it didn’t reach her eyes properly. she looked at you the way you look at something you’ve finally gotten your hands on.

“okay, great! i’ll shower first then,” she said brightly, already halfway down the hall. “i won’t take long. thank you, y/n. see? everything’s better when we’re together.”

you sat on the couch and didn’t move until you heard the water turn on.

•

you took your own shower after, stayed in longer than you needed to, let the heat run until the bathroom filled with steam and you could pretend for a few minutes that you were somewhere else. when you came out the apartment was quiet.

you walked to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway.

dani was already in bed. propped against the pillows, wearing one of your old shirts that she hadn’t been offered, hands folded in her lap, smiling at the door like she’d known exactly when you would appear in it.

“come here,” she said softly, and opened her arms.

you crossed the room and got into bed because you didn’t know what else to do. dani pulled you in immediately, tight and certain, arms wrapping around you like something closing. her fingers traced slow circles on your back and her breathing evened out within minutes, deep and content, her arm draped heavy across your waist even in sleep.

you lay rigid in the dark and stared at the ceiling.

you had imagined this so many times. dani’s confession on the balcony becoming something soft and mutual. nervous laughter. tentative and careful and real. you had imagined what it would feel like to finally be wanted back, after all the months of watching and waiting and pretending you weren’t doing either.

it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. like a door that had quietly locked behind you.

tears tracked sideways into your hair in the dark and you didn’t wipe them. dani’s arm was too heavy across your waist and you couldn’t move without waking her and you weren’t sure yet what happened if you woke her.

and then the thought arrived, the one you’d been circling all night without letting yourself land on it.

the one wish willow.

that stupid little fake branch in the red and cream box. sophia and megan’s gag gift. the instructions on the back of the triangular box that you’d read out loud like it was funny.

think carefully before making your wish. once made, a wish cannot be reversed.

dani on the balcony, snapping the branch clean. not even looking at it after.

the shiver in the air that you had talked yourself out of feeling.

you were aware that it meant you were the one she had her eyes on this whole time, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. not like this.

you lay in the dark with dani’s arm across your waist and the full weight of it settled over you like cold water. this wasn’t dani being intense. this wasn’t alcohol, or longing, or a strange night that would sort itself out by morning. something had happened on that balcony. something had changed, and it had changed completely, and the box had been very clear about what came after.

once made, a wish cannot be reversed or repeated.

dani’s breathing was slow and even beside you. content. certain. her grip tightened slightly in sleep, like she could feel you thinking about pulling away.

you closed your eyes and did not sleep for a very long time.

exhaustion eventually won out, pulling you under into something thin and restless that barely counted as sleep.

sometime deep in the night you stirred. there was a prickling along your skin, slow and crawling, the specific feeling of being looked at. your eyes opened on their own before you were fully awake.

the room was dark. the curtains let in just enough moonlight to see by.

dani was standing in the corner.

not moving. not shifting her weight, not adjusting, not doing anything that a person standing in a dark room at — your eyes cut to the clock — 3 a.m. would normally do. just standing there, facing the bed, head tilted very slightly, watching. she looked like she had been there for a long time. she looked like she was perfectly comfortable with that.

your breath left you all at once.

“dani.” your voice came out smaller than you wanted. “what are you doing.”

dani didn’t startle. she stood in the corner for another beat, like she was in no particular hurry, and then took one slow step forward. her voice when it came was low and soft and completely unbothered, like she was describing something lovely. “i couldn’t sleep,” she said. “i just wanted to look at you.”

another step, unhurried. “you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. so beautiful.” she stopped at the edge of the bed, close enough now that you could see her face in the dim light.

that same expression from the window below. open and certain and deeply, deeply calm. “i like watching you. i like being near you like this. it feels right. it feels like the only thing that makes sense.” a pause. “i’ve been standing there for a while.”

she said it like a confession. like it was something you should find sweet.

your back hit the headboard. you hadn’t realized you’d moved. “dani, this isn’t — you can’t just stand in the corner and watch me sleep, that’s not —” you could hear your own voice shaking and couldn’t stop it.

dani’s face collapsed.

“you’re doing it again,” she said, and her voice shot up into something raw and cracked and too loud for the quiet apartment. “you’re pushing me away again.” tears spilled over, fast, and her hands flew up to her own hair, gripping hard. “i just wanted to be close to you. i just wanted to look at you. that’s all i did. why is that wrong? why is that something you need to be scared of?” she took a step closer, then another, her whole body shaking. “i would never hurt you. i just love being near you. i just need to be near you, why can’t you let me be near you —”

“dani —”

“do you know what it feels like?” her voice cracked on it, broke open, and she laughed through the tears, that same manic broken sound from earlier, wrong and bright and terrible. “to want to be close to someone this much and have them look at you like you’re something scary? like you’re something wrong?”

she was crying hard now, hands still twisted in her own hair, but her eyes were locked on your face with a focus that didn’t waver at all. that was the scariest part, the crying and the shaking and underneath it all those eyes completely fixed and steady. “i’ve been watching you sleep for two hours, y/n. two hours. and it was the best two hours i’ve had since i got here because you weren’t pulling away from me. you were just there and i was just there and it was enough.” a sob broke through, ugly and raw. “why can’t that be enough for you. why can’t i just be close to you without you making that face.”

“what face,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

“that face,” dani said. “like you want me to leave.”

your hands were shaking under the blanket. you made yourself breathe. made yourself think past the fear, past the way dani’s eyes looked in the dark, past the two hours, past all of it. you softened your voice the way you’d gentle something wounded and unpredictable. “hey. hey, i’m not pushing you away. i was just startled, that’s all. come back to bed, okay? come here. i want you close.”

the silence that followed lasted exactly long enough to be wrong.

then dani’s face smoothed out. the tears stopped. the shaking stopped. that smile came back, slow and wide and settling into place like it had never left, like the last two minutes hadn’t happened at all. she wiped her face with the back of her hand and climbed back into bed, curling around you immediately, arms pulling you in tight, face pressing warm against your shoulder.

“i knew you didn’t mean it,” she murmured, already settling, already content. “i knew you’d understand.” her arm cinched tighter around your waist.

you lay rigid in the dark and stared at the ceiling and listened to dani’s breathing slow into something deep and satisfied while the clock on the nightstand read 3:09 a.m. and the room sat completely still around you.

•

the next morning you woke up alone.

you didn’t realize it at first. you came up out of sleep slow and disoriented, reaching sideways before you were fully conscious, hand already moving toward the other side of the bed out of some new terrible instinct you hadn’t had four days ago. the sheets were cold. had been cold for a while.

you sat up. checked the corner first. just wall. just shadow. just the normal dark shape of your own jacket hanging on the chair.

there was a note on the pillow.

had to go to work early. you were sleeping so peacefully i couldn’t wake you. i’ll be thinking about you all day. see you soon. love, dani :)

you put the note down face-first on the mattress so you didn’t have to look at it anymore.

your hands were shaking when you clicked sophia’s contact.

where did you guys get that one wish willow from ?? the exact shop. please.

sophia answered in under a minute. the green man, that weird metaphysical place a couple blocks from the park. why whats up??

you were already out of bed.

you threw on the first clothes you touched, grabbed the red and cream box from the counter, and were out the door before you’d finished processing that you were leaving. the morning air hit your face cold and you walked fast, faster than you needed to, the box clutched in both hands like if you loosened your grip it would disappear and take the only lead you had with it.

the green man was narrow and dim, the kind of shop that seemed smaller on the inside than it looked from the street. it smelled like incense and something older underneath. dust and dried herbs and the particular staleness of a room that didn’t get much light. wind chimes shifted somewhere in the back when the door opened. a man behind the counter looked up: older, tired eyes, the kind of face that had heard things before and stopped being surprised by them.

you put the box on the counter.

you hadn’t planned what you were going to say. it came out anyway, fast and cracking and not entirely coherent — the party, the balcony, the wish dani hadn’t known was real, the voicemails one after another after another, the figure on the pavement below waving, the corner of the bedroom at 3 a.m., the way dani’s crying had stopped like a switch. you talked until your voice gave out and then you just stood there, hands flat on the glass counter, breathing hard.

the man hadn’t moved. hadn’t interrupted. he looked at the box, then at you, then at the box again.

“it says right on it,” he said finally, his voice very quiet and very tired. “irreversible. once made, a wish cannot be reversed or repeated.”

“i know what it says.” your voice came out rougher than you meant. “i need you to tell me there’s something else. please. she didn’t know it was real. she thought it was a joke. she made a stupid wish because i handed her the box and told her to and she trusted me and now she’s —” your throat closed around the rest of it. you pressed your fingers harder into the counter. “she’s not herself. she’s scared, even inside it she’s scared. she doesn’t deserve this. please.”

the man looked at you for a long moment. the wind chimes shifted again in the back room. somewhere a clock was ticking.

then he turned and disappeared through the curtain behind him.

you stood at the counter and didn’t breathe properly until he came back. he was holding a branch, smaller than the one in the box, darker, the wood almost grey. he set it on the counter between you carefully.

“this one is different,” he said. “it doesn’t override the wish. it can’t. nothing can.” he paused. “but if the wisher speaks their true desire out loud — not a corrected wish, not a wished-away wish, just the truth of what they want, it creates an opening. the wish loses its grip.” he looked at you. “it only works if she means it. and she has to be the one to break it. you can’t do it for her.”

you picked up the branch. your hands had stopped shaking. something had settled in your chest that wasn’t calm exactly but was close enough to function.

“what happens to her after?” you said. “does she remember?”

the man said nothing.

you took that as its own kind of answer. you put money on the counter without counting it and walked out.

•

you texted dani that evening. kept it simple.

come over. i want to show you something.

the reply came in forty-seven seconds. on my way :)

you stood on the balcony and waited. the city moved below you, indifferent and lit up, and you turned the grey branch over and over in your hands and tried to figure out what you were going to say. maybe there wasn’t a version of this that had the right words. maybe you just had to stand in the same spot where it started and hope that counted for something.

dani arrived with that brightness already in her face, the particular voltage that had been there since the balcony three nights ago, the one that looked like joy from a distance and like something else entirely up close. she stepped outside and immediately gravitated toward you, closing the distance between you like she couldn’t help it.

“hey,” she said, smiling.

“hey.” you took her hands. felt dani’s fingers curl around yours immediately, tight and certain. “i need you to do something for me. and i need you to trust me.”

dani’s face did something complicated. the brightness flickered. “always,” she said, and she meant it, and that was the part that broke something open in your chest.

you opened your mouth to start explaining, and then dani’s face changed.

not gradually. not with warning. one second she was smiling and the next her expression collapsed inward, her eyes going wide and frightened, her hands seizing yours harder.

“y/n.” her voice came out different. lower. scraped. like she was talking through something. “y/n, listen to me, something is wrong with me, i don’t — i can feel it, it’s like something else is wearing me and i can’t —”

then she stopped. blinked. the brightness slammed back into place like a shutter closing, sudden and total, and she laughed, soft and easy, tilting her head. “sorry, i spaced out. what were you saying?”

you stared at her.

“dani,” you said carefully. “what just happened.”

“what do you mean?” dani smiled. squeezed your hands. “nothing happened. i’m right here.”

you looked at her eyes. steady. warm. completely certain.

you took a breath.

“okay,” you said. “i need to tell you something and i need you to actually hear me. all of it. can you do that?”

dani tilted her head. “of course.”

you didn’t let go of her hands. you kept your voice even and careful. “the branch i have,” you said, “it’s different from the first one. it doesn’t cancel the wish. nothing can cancel it.” you paused. “but if you hold it and say out loud what you actually want, it creates an opening. it loses its grip.”

dani was quiet for a moment. “and then what.”

“and then it’s over.”

“just like that?”

“he said it only works if you mean it,” you said. “it has to come from you. i can’t do it for you. i can’t wish it away or —” your voice caught on the last part. you made yourself finish it. “i can’t undo what i started. i know that. i’m so sorry, dani. i handed you that box. i told you to make a wish. i thought it was funny and i was wrong and i’m so —”

“hey.” dani’s hands tightened around yours. the brightness in her face had gone soft, almost gentle, and for a second you couldn’t tell which version of her was speaking. “stop. just tell me what i need to do.”

you held out the grey branch.

“hold this,” you said. “and tell me what you actually want. your real wish. whatever is true.” you met dani’s eyes. “i’ll be right here.”

dani looked at the branch for a long moment. something moved across her face. something that recognized the branch for what it was and didn’t want to touch it. her smile stayed in place but her eyes went very still.

“i don’t think i need that,” she said.

“i think you do,” you said. “i think part of you knows you do.”

a long silence.

then dani’s hand came up slowly and took the branch. and the moment her fingers closed around it the battle started in earnest.

her face went through expressions you didn’t have names for. not in quick succession but simultaneously, layered over each other, like two people trying to occupy the same features at once. her mouth pulled into a smile and then her brow collapsed it and then the smile fought back and her eyes went somewhere frightened and then something else yanked them back to warm and certain, her breath coming fast and uneven like she was running from the inside out.

“dani.” you stepped forward, not back, toward her, and took her shaking hand in both of yours, pressing the grey branch between your palms. “i know you’re in there. i know you can hear me right now.” you held on tighter. “you know what to do. you know what you actually want. just say it. please. just say it out loud.”

dani’s face did something you would never be able to fully describe later. both of them at once, really at once, the brightness and the real her occupying the same expression at the same time, pulling it in opposite directions, her eyes filling with tears that the brightness immediately tried to reclaim as devotion, her mouth opening on a sound that was half-sob and half-laugh and belonged to neither of them and both of them.

“i want —” a breath. the brightness pressing in at the edges of her voice, warming it, trying to redirect it. she pushed through. “i want to be me. just me. whatever that looks like.” the branch was shaking between your hands. “i want to stop feeling like i’m drowning in something i didn’t choose. i want to —” her voice broke, the real break, the one that had nothing to do with the wish. “i don’t want to scare you. i don’t want to scare you, y/n. i never wanted to scare you.”

she snapped the branch.

the brightness left her face like an exhale.

not dramatic. not violent. just — out. like a light switched off in an empty room, quiet and final and leaving nothing behind but the actual dark.

dani stood on the balcony and blinked. once. twice. looked down at the two pieces of branch in her hands with a small confused frown.

“what are we doing out here?” she said. her voice was just her voice. just dani. “it’s freezing.”

you looked at her. really looked at her. the voltage was gone. the certainty was gone. the brightness that had been eating her alive from the inside for three days was simply, completely gone. she was standing in the cold holding a broken branch she didn’t recognize, looking at you the way she’d always looked at you, like you were just a person she liked a lot and sometimes didn’t know what to do about.

she didn’t remember.

not a single second of it. it was written nowhere on her face.

you felt the grief move through you, slow and total. the specific grief of being the only one who would ever know. then underneath it something else, quieter and less pretty but solid: relief. dani got to keep herself without the knowledge of what she’d briefly, terrifyingly been. she got to wake up tomorrow and just be a person. you could give her that. it was the smallest possible thing and also the only thing you’d been able to give her through any of this.

“just wanted some air,” you said. your voice came out steady.

dani wrinkled her nose. tossed the two pieces of branch over the railing without looking at them, the way you’d toss anything you didn’t recognize and didn’t need, and watched them disappear into the dark below.

“come inside,” she said. “i’ll make tea. you look terrible, by the way.”

“thanks,” you said.

“i mean it nicely.”

“i know you do.”

dani went inside. you listened to the door slide open, heard her moving around in the kitchen, the familiar sound of the wrong cabinet opening because it was always the wrong cabinet with dani.

you stayed on the balcony.

you looked at the spot on the railing where it had all started. the wood hadn’t changed. there was no mark, no evidence, nothing to indicate that something had been broken here and then broken again in an attempt to fix it. the city moved below you the same way it always did, holding its millions of lives with the same indifference it had always held them.

you thought about the real dani’s voice breaking through. i don’t want to scare you. i never wanted to scare you. you didn’t know if that had been the wish finally losing its grip or dani herself clawing back up to the surface long enough to say the truest thing she had. you didn’t know if it mattered. you thought maybe it did. you thought maybe that was the thing you would keep, the only clean thing you could take from any of this, and hold somewhere careful and private where it couldn’t get ruined.

there was a version of the future where you told dani everything. where dani knew what she’d been and what she’d done and who she’d briefly been capable of becoming and you talked about it the way people were supposed to talk about things. there was probably a version of the future where the feelings that had existed before all of this, the ones that had been building quietly for months, the ones that had made you hand over the box in the first place like an offering, got to become something real and mutual and chosen. both of you choosing it. both of you clear-eyed.

you didn’t know if you were that person yet. you didn’t know if the fear had done something permanent to the wanting or if it had just buried it somewhere you couldn’t reach right now. you didn’t know if the wanting would come back when the fear finally faded or if it would return changed into something that flinched at the wrong moments, that kept waiting in the dark for a switch to flip.

what you knew was that dani was inside your apartment right now opening the wrong cabinet and being completely, ordinarily herself. what you knew was that three days ago you had stood in this exact spot at the start of something that was supposed to be tentative and sweet and it had become something else entirely, and the something else was over now, and what remained was just the two of you and the original question you had never actually gotten to answer.

you didn’t know if you had the heart for it yet.

you thought someday you might.

you pushed off the railing. went inside. slid the door shut behind you.

dani was holding up two mugs with a questioning look, the wrong cabinet hanging open above her head.

you pointed to the left one.

dani smiled — just her smile, just the actual one, the one you had memorized without ever deciding to — and turned back to the kettle.

you sat down and watched her and thought: not yet. but maybe. maybe someday.

the kettle began to hiss into the quiet.

[pulpfriction01]

You’re back 😁😁😁 I’ve been rereading your fics lately nonstop cuz they’re so good 🥹🙂‍↕️🙏 how are youu? 🫶

-🗿

ahh you’re too kind 🫣 i’m backkk but clearly still sporadic lol. really means a lot that you’ve been rereading my stuff. thx for sticking around!!

[pulpfriction01]

spanish for dummies in love — daniela avanzini

summary: you think learning spanish on duolingo’s just a boredom cure between katseye schedules. dani thinks she’s just helping with pronunciation. daily voice notes and a bit of flirting prove you’re both dead wrong—and kissing about it.

tags: daniela x 7th member!reader, mutual pining, no beta

notes: i do not speak spanish, apologies for mistakes </3

you’re three lessons deep into duolingo spanish when dani catches you.

“wait, you’re learning spanish?”

you look up from your phone. she’s standing in the doorway of the living room, fresh out of the shower with her hair damp, wearing an oversized hoodie.

“yeah,” you say, shrugging. “just started tonight. bored, figured it’d be cool to know another language. maybe impress some people, i don’t know.”

dani crosses the room and drops onto the couch next to you—way closer than necessary, actually. her thigh presses against yours as she leans in to look at your screen.

“let me see your progress.”

you hand her your phone, very aware of how close she is. she scrolls through your completed lessons, and you notice she’s really concentrating, her eyes focused on the screen, bottom lip caught between her teeth slightly.

“okay, do lesson four again,” she says after a minute.

“what? i already finished it.”

“i know, but—” she taps on a phrase. “say this one.”

you read it off the screen. “como estas?”

she winces slightly, and it’s almost cute how dramatic she is about it.

“what?”

“okay no. you can’t say it like that.”

“duolingo literally gave me a green checkmark!”

“duolingo doesn’t care if you sound—” she stops herself. “just. say it again.”

you do. she’s watching your mouth now, and you’re suddenly very aware of that fact.

“better, but your accent…” she trails off. “you know what, send me voice notes when you practice. i’ll tell you if you’re saying it wrong.”

“you really don’t have to—”

“i want to.” she’s already pulling out her phone. “it’ll be fun. accountability partners. we can both keep our streaks going.”

“you don’t even use duolingo.”

“i will now. for support.” she’s typing on her phone. “what’s your username?”

you tell her, and she adds you immediately.

“okay! now we’re officially streak buddies.”

“this is so unnecessary.”

“too late, we’re doing it.” she stands up, stretching, and her hoodie rides up slightly. you deliberately look back at your phone. “finish your lessons and send me voice notes if you need help.”

“dani, it’s almost midnight—”

“so? i’ll be up scrolling anyway. we have that radio thing tomorrow but it’s not til afternoon.”

and she is. you finish lesson five at 12:47am and think, whatever. you record yourself saying “buenas noches” and send it to her.

she responds in thirty seconds.

dani: okay but you’re saying it like you’re asking a question. more confident

you laugh and record it again with fake confidence.

dani: now you sound like a villain monologue

you: i literally cannot win

dani: one more time. just normal

you record it once more, actually trying.

dani: there we go! see? you just needed practice

you: thanks coach 🫡

dani: anytime. now sleep, radio thing tomorrow

you: you too??

dani: already in bed being responsible

you: scrolling tiktok in bed doesn’t count

dani: WOW okay called out

dani: goodnight. buenas noches 😌

you smile at your phone and go to bed.

it becomes routine over the next week. you do your lessons between schedules—in the car to shoots, in dressing rooms during downtime, late at night when you can’t sleep. you send dani voice notes, she gives feedback. sometimes she sends you memes about language learning. sometimes you send her intentionally terrible pronunciations to make her laugh.

it’s helpful. it’s nice.

a week in, she starts suggesting specific phrases.

you’re still in bed one morning, voice rough from sleep, when your phone buzzes.

dani: okay morning practice!

dani: say: buenos días

you record it quickly and send it back, yawning.

there’s a longer pause than usual before she responds.

dani: good

dani: now try: buenos días, mi amor

you stare at the message for a second.

you: why am i adding mi amor?

dani: it’s a common greeting! cultural thing

you: is it though

dani: yes?? just say it

you record it, trying to sound normal and not overthink the phrase “my love.” you hit send before you can second-guess it.

dani doesn’t respond for almost a minute. you’re about to text again when your phone buzzes.

dani: that was really good actually

you: thanks?

dani: your voice sounds different in the morning

you: because i sound like death?

dani: no like. raspy? it’s actually really good for spanish pronunciation. the r sounds come out better

you: very technical observation

dani: i’m being professional

dani: can you do it again tomorrow? same thing? for consistency

you: the buenos días mi amor thing?

dani: yeah. it’s good practice for you

you: if you say so

dani: i do say so

dani: okay i have to shower we have that thing at 10

you: same. see you in the living room

you get up and start getting ready, not really thinking much about it.

but it does become a thing. every morning, you send dani buenos días, mi amor in a voice note. she always responds—sometimes with corrections, sometimes just good, sometimes with her own buenos días back.

two weeks in, you’re all at sophia’s place after a long day of recording. you’re on your phone finishing a lesson while everyone else is arguing about what to order for dinner.

“you’re still doing that spanish thing?” megan asks, glancing at your screen.

“yeah, it’s actually kind of fun. good for my brain.”

“she’s gotten really into it,” dani says from across the room. she’s on sophia’s couch, looking at her own phone.

“how would you know?” lara asks.

“we’re accountability partners. she sends me updates.”

sophia raises an eyebrow. “updates?”

“like, progress reports. i help with pronunciation since i’m fluent.”

“that’s helpful,” manon says, but there’s something in her tone.

“it is helpful,” you say. “she catches stuff duolingo doesn’t.”

“very helpful,” dani adds, still focused on her screen.

there’s a pause where you feel like everyone’s looking between you and dani, but then yoonchae breaks the silence with “can we please just order pizza i’m starving” and the moment passes.

week three is when you start branching out. you’re bored during a particularly long schedule—waiting around for your turn during a photoshoot—and you start googling additional spanish phrases. just out of curiosity. expanding your vocabulary.

dani texts you that afternoon.

dani: how are lessons going?

you: good! learned some new stuff today

dani: oh yeah? let’s hear it

you’ve been waiting for this. you found a phrase earlier that seemed interesting.

you step outside the studio for some quiet and record yourself: “eres hermosa. eres tan hermosa que no puedo pensar.”

you’re beautiful. you’re so beautiful i can’t think.

you send it, pleased that you managed to pronounce it correctly.

dani doesn’t respond for several minutes. you’re walking back inside when your phone finally buzzes.

dani: where did you learn that

you: duolingo?

dani: that’s not in the basic lessons

you: maybe i leveled up

dani: you started three weeks ago

you: built different

dani: …

dani: okay

dani: say it again

you: the whole thing?

dani: yes

you find another quiet corner and record it again, slower this time, really focusing on the pronunciation.

dani: your pronunciation is really good

you: thanks!

dani: like suspiciously good

you: is that a bad thing??

dani: no just. unexpected

dani: keep practicing i guess

you: will do boss

that night, you’re both back at the apartment. you’re in the kitchen making tea when dani wanders in. she goes to the fridge, grabs a water, and you’re both just existing in the space quietly. it’s comfortable. normal.

“so,” she says after a moment, leaning against the counter. “you’re really getting into the spanish thing.”

“yeah, it’s pretty cool. feels productive, you know? like i’m actually learning something between all the chaos.”

“mm.” she opens her water bottle, takes a sip. her eyes flick to you, then away. “some of those phrases you’ve been learning are kind of advanced for week three.”

“i like a challenge.”

“clearly.” she’s quiet for a second, doing that thing where she plays with the water bottle cap when she’s thinking. “just making sure you know what you’re actually saying.”

“i do. i look everything up.”

“right. of course.” she looks at you now, and there’s something in her expression you can’t quite read. “so when you said that thing earlier. the hermosa thing. you knew what it meant.”

“yeah. ‘you’re beautiful’ and then ‘so beautiful i can’t think.’ why, was my pronunciation wrong?”

“no, it was perfect.” she’s still looking at you. “just… interesting choice. for practice.”

“it was in a lesson.”

“was it?”

“pretty sure.”

“hm.” but she’s almost smiling now. “okay. if you say so.”

“i do say so.”

she nods slowly, then pushes off the counter. “well. keep up the good work. your accent is really…” she pauses in the doorway, glances back. “it’s really good.”

“thanks?”

she disappears into her room, and you’re left standing in the kitchen, your tea forgotten, wondering what that was about.

over the next few days, something shifts. dani responds to your morning voice notes faster. sometimes she asks you to repeat phrases even when you got them right the first time. during the rare moments you’re both at the apartment at the same time, you catch her looking at you when she thinks you’re not paying attention.

one night after a particularly exhausting dance practice, you’re both collapsed on the couch, too tired to even think about making dinner. you’re half-heartedly doing a duolingo lesson, practicing out loud because you’re too tired to record properly.

you’re trying to get a rolled r sound right, failing repeatedly.

“what are you working on?” dani asks. she’s at the other end of the couch, but she shifts closer.

“this word. i can’t get the r sound.”

“let me hear.”

you try it. she makes a face.

“okay, no. here—” she moves even closer, until you’re basically side by side. “look at my mouth.”

you turn to face her. she’s really close now, and you can see the tiredness in her eyes, the way her hair’s still damp from the shower she took at the studio. she demonstrates the sound slowly, and you watch her mouth form the shape, the way her tongue moves.

“see? your tongue has to—” she gestures vaguely at her own mouth. “try it.”

you try. it’s better but not quite right.

“your tongue needs to vibrate more. here—” she reaches out like she’s going to touch your face, then stops herself. “actually, put your hand here.”

she takes your hand and places it on her throat.

“feel that vibration? that’s what you need.”

she makes the sound again, and you feel it under your palm—this low rumble. your brain short-circuits a little because you’re touching her throat and she’s so close and you’re suddenly very aware of everything.

“okay,” you manage. “i think i got it.”

“try it.”

you try it, and it’s much better this time.

“there you go!” she says, and she’s smiling now, genuine and bright. but she still hasn’t moved away. you’re still close, your hand still on her throat from where she placed it.

she seems to realize at the same time you do. she pulls back quickly, standing up.

“uh. yeah. keep practicing that. send me a voice note later if you want me to check.”

“okay.”

she goes to her room, and you sit there for a solid minute, your hand still tingling, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

week four is when dani starts getting deliberate about it. you’ve been supplementing your lessons with random phrases you find online, just to keep things interesting. but then dani starts assigning you specific things to practice, and the phrases are… different.

you’re at a schedule one afternoon—some interview thing—when your phone buzzes.

dani: practice: me gusta la comida

i like the food.

you’re waiting for your turn, so you pull out your phone and record it. but then you add something you found online earlier:

“me gusta la comida. me encantas tú.”

i like the food. i’m crazy about you.

you send it casually, like it’s nothing, then get called for your segment.

when you check your phone an hour later, there are several messages.

dani: okay first of all, good conjugation on encantar

dani: second, where did you learn that second part

you: google

dani: why are you googling romantic phrases

you: expanding my vocabulary

dani: to say you’re crazy about food?

you: maybe i’m really passionate about food

dani: …okay

dani: say it again

you: which part

dani: the second part

you find a quiet corner backstage and record just “me encantas” and send it.

she doesn’t respond for a while. you’re in the car heading back to the apartment when your phone finally buzzes.

dani: come to the living room when you get home

you: ?

dani: just do it

when you get back to the apartment twenty minutes later, she’s on the couch, phone in hand, looking like she’s been waiting.

“sit,” she says when she sees you.

you drop your bag and sit next to her, suddenly nervous even though you don’t know why.

“okay,” she says carefully, turning to face you. “we need to talk about what you’re learning.”

“my spanish?”

“yes. your spanish.” she runs a hand through her hair, and you notice it’s a little messy, like she’s been doing that a lot. “you’re learning phrases that aren’t in duolingo.”

“so? i’m being proactive about my education.”

“you’re learning how to flirt in spanish.”

“i’m learning conversational phrases!”

“‘me encantas’ is not casual conversation,” she says, and her voice is a little strained. “that’s what you say when you really like someone. like, REALLY like them.”

“okay, well, good to know for future reference.”

she stares at you for a long moment, and you can’t read her expression. “future reference.”

“yeah.”

“so you’re just… learning these. randomly. for no reason.”

“for educational purposes.”

“educational.”

“yes.”

she’s studying your face like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. then something shifts in her expression—some kind of decision being made.

“okay. fine. then let me teach you properly.”

“what do you mean?”

she pulls out her phone, types something, then sends you a message.

you open it. it’s a list of phrases, and your heart starts beating faster as you read them.

te necesito - i need you

quiero tocarte - i want to touch you

pensé en ti toda la noche - i thought about you all night

me haces sentir cosas - you make me feel things

you stare at the list.

“for educational purposes,” she says, and her voice is carefully controlled now. “since you want to expand your vocabulary.”

“these are…”

“conversational phrases,” she finishes. “like you said. practice them. send me voice notes.”

“now?”

“whenever.” she stands up. “just make sure your pronunciation is correct. that’s important.”

she walks to her room, and you’re left sitting there, looking at the phrases, your phone feeling heavy in your hand.

you go to your own room and stare at your phone for a solid twenty minutes.

finally, you record them. all of them. your voice comes out different than usual—softer, less sure. but you send them anyway.

you watch as she listens to them immediately.

then she listens again.

and again.

and again.

dani: good

your heart is pounding so hard you can hear it.

dani: say the first one again. slower.

you record “te necesito” slowly, carefully, and send it.

dani: perfect

dani: that’s enough for tonight

dani: we’ll continue tomorrow

you: okay

you: buenas noches

you wait, staring at your phone.

dani: buenas noches, mi amor

you read that message at least twenty times before you finally manage to fall asleep.

the next few days are different. dani keeps assigning you phrases to practice, and they’re getting progressively more intense. you keep practicing them, sending them to her in voice notes, and she keeps listening to them multiple times before responding.

you’re both hyperaware of each other now. when you’re getting ready in the morning and you pass each other in the hallway, there’s this energy. when you’re at schedules together and you catch her eye across the room, something passes between you that you can’t name.

the morning voice notes continue. every day, without fail, you send her “buenos días, mi amor” and she responds. sometimes she sends her own voice note back: “buenos días, hermosa.” it’s become this ritual that you both protect, even when schedules are insane.

one morning, after a particularly late night of practice, you record it while still half-asleep, your voice extra raspy and low.

“buenos días, mi amor. te extrañé.”

good morning, my love. i missed you.

you send it without thinking, then immediately panic a little because you added something she didn’t ask for. but it’s too late to take it back.

her response comes fast.

dani: we literally live together

you: you told me to practice past tense

there’s a pause. then:

dani: …say it again

you do, putting even more feeling into it this time.

her response is a voice note, and when you play it, it’s just heavy breathing for a second, then: “your spanish is getting too good.”

you’re starting to realize this isn’t just about spanish anymore. maybe it never was.

it’s week five when you’re all at some industry party. just boring networking stuff, but the company said you had to show face. you’re nursing a drink in the corner, trying to look engaged while actually being bored out of your mind, when you hear it.

laughter. dani’s laughter. and then rapid spanish.

you look over. she’s with a group of people, and there’s this guy—tall, charming smile, very much in her personal space—speaking to her in fluid, perfect spanish. and she’s smiling, responding just as easily, completely animated in a way that makes something uncomfortable twist in your chest.

“that’s jonah,” sophia says, appearing next to you with her own drink.

“oh,” you say, trying to sound casual. “cool.”

you watch them for another moment. the ease of their conversation, the way he makes her laugh, the comfort between them. the fact that he can say things to her in perfect spanish while you’re still stumbling over phrases.

“you okay?” sophia asks, and there’s something knowing in her tone.

“yeah, totally. why?”

sophia just gives you a look but doesn’t push it.

you last another thirty minutes, feeling progressively more irritated for reasons you don’t want to examine too closely, before making an excuse about being tired. you take a car service back to the apartment alone.

at home, you open duolingo and work through lessons with way more aggression than necessary, getting increasingly frustrated every time you get something wrong.

dani comes home an hour later.

“hey,” she says, kicking off her shoes. “you left kind of early.”

“tired.”

“you sure? you seem annoyed.”

“i’m fine.”

she moves to sit on the arm of the couch, watching you with those eyes that see way too much. “you’re doing duolingo with that face.”

“what face?”

“your annoyed face. the one where your eyebrows do that thing. you only make it when something’s actually bothering you.”

“i don’t have a face.”

“you absolutely do. so what’s going on?”

you lock your phone and look at her. really look at her. she’s still in her party outfit, hair a little messy now, makeup slightly smudged. she looks worried.

“jonah. you guys seemed really… comfortable.”

“we’ve been close for years—” she stops. her expression changes, something clicking into place. “wait. are you jealous?”

“no.”

“you are. you’re jealous.”

“i’m not jealous.”

“you left the party early and came home to stress-learn spanish. that’s pretty jealous behavior.”

you stand up, needing to move. “it’s fine. you can talk to whoever you want. i don’t—it doesn’t matter.”

“obviously i can talk to whoever i want—” she stands too, following you. “but it clearly does matter. so why?”

“it doesn’t.”

“you’re lying.”

“i’m not—” you stop, running a hand through your hair, trying to figure out what you’re even feeling. “he just… he gets to have real conversations with you. easy ones. in perfect spanish. and i’m still fucking up basic pronunciation and learning from an app like an idiot.”

“you’re not fucking anything up, you’re learning really fast—”

“but it’s not the same.” your voice comes out more frustrated than you intended. “he just… he gets it. he can talk to you the way i can’t. and you looked so happy talking to him and i just—”

you cut yourself off, realizing you’ve said too much.

dani’s quiet for a long moment, just looking at you with this expression you can’t read.

“is this actually about spanish?” she asks carefully, quietly.

your heart is racing. “i don’t know. maybe. maybe not.”

“y/n—”

“i’m going to bed.” you start toward your room, needing to escape this conversation.

“wait.” her voice stops you. “you didn’t send me your morning thing today.”

you turn back. she’s standing there in the middle of the living room, and she looks uncertain in a way you rarely see from her.

“i didn’t think you’d want it.”

“why wouldn’t i want it?”

“because—” you gesture vaguely in the direction of where the party was. “you have jonah for actual spanish conversations. you don’t need my shitty duolingo attempts.”

“i like your attempts,” she says quickly. “i like your voice notes. i—” she stops herself. “don’t not send them. please.”

you stare at her, trying to understand what’s happening here.

“okay,” you finally say.

“okay.”

you go to your room, but before you close the door, you grab your phone. your hands are shaking slightly as you record:

“buenos días, mi amor. te extrañé.”

good morning, my love. i missed you.

you send it even though it’s 11pm and makes absolutely no sense.

she responds almost immediately with a voice note. you play it with your door closed, sitting on your bed.

“te extrañé también.”

i missed you too.

her voice sounds different. softer. vulnerable. something.

you listen to it seven times before you finally fall asleep.

the next morning, you wake up to a text.

dani: you awake?

you: yeah

dani: can you come here?

you stare at the message for a second, heart already picking up speed. you get up, pad down the hallway in your sleep shorts and oversized t-shirt, and knock softly on her door.

“come in.”

you open it. she’s sitting on her bed, already dressed for the day—you both have that variety show appearance this afternoon. but she looks like she hasn’t slept much. her hair’s damp from a shower, and she’s got that nervous energy she gets when she’s overthinking something.

she pats the spot next to her on the bed.

you sit, leaving a careful distance between you.

“so,” she says, not looking at you. “i need to tell you something.”

your stomach drops. “okay.”

“when you started learning spanish, i thought it was just random. like a hobby thing. something to pass time between schedules.”

“it is—”

“let me finish.” she takes a breath, and you notice her hands are shaking slightly. “but then you started saying these phrases, and sending voice notes, and i started… looking forward to them. way too much. like, way too much.”

your heart is pounding now.

“and i didn’t know what to do with that,” she continues, still not looking at you. “because i’ve only ever—i’ve only dated guys. so i thought maybe i was just confused? like maybe i was reading too much into it? maybe it was just because i like teaching, or because we’re close, or because your voice sounds nice, or—”

she’s rambling now, which she only does when she’s really nervous.

“but then last night, you got jealous of jonah,” she says, finally turning to look at you. “and i realized something.”

“what?”

“you’re learning spanish because of me. right?”

you could lie. you probably should lie. but you’re so tired of whatever this dance has been.

“yeah,” you admit quietly. “i mean, at first it really was just random. but then you got so excited about helping, and i liked talking to you like that, and i liked making you smile when i got something right, and i just… kept going.”

“and looked up romantic phrases to say to me.”

“i wasn’t trying to—” you stop. “i don’t know what i was trying to do. maybe i was messing with you. maybe i was hoping you’d figure it out. maybe both.”

she’s studying your face now, and you can see her processing this.

“do you like me?” she asks directly. “like, actually like me? not just as bandmates or roommates but—”

“yeah,” you say, because there’s no point hiding it anymore. “i do. i’m sorry if that’s—”

she kisses you.

it’s quick, almost nervous, and when she pulls back her eyes are wide like she can’t believe she just did that.

“was that okay?” she asks, voice small.

you just stare at her, your brain trying to catch up with what just happened. “i—yeah. yes. very okay.”

“okay. good. because i—” she takes another breath. “i think i like you too. like, i know i do. i just didn’t know how to… i’ve never liked a girl before and i wasn’t sure if what i was feeling was real or if i was just confused or—”

you kiss her this time, longer, cutting off her spiral. she makes this soft sound of surprise that turns into something else, and her hands come up to cup your face.

when you break apart, you’re both smiling.

“so,” you say, a little breathless. “what now?”

“now…” she bites her lip, and you watch the movement. “now you keep learning spanish, but we can stop pretending this is just about language learning.”

you nod slowly, heart pounding in your chest. “yeah,” you say. “i kind of forgot about the language part for a second.”

“same,” she admits, a little laugh escaping her. she looks almost shy for half a second—then she clears her throat. “okay. say something in spanish.”

“like what?”

“anything.”

you think about all the phrases she’s drilled into you. your brain picks the safest one it can find.

“me gustas mucho,” you say quietly.

i like you a lot.

her eyes soften. “yeah?” she says. “good. because i—” she catches herself, switches lanes. “okay, teacher mode. repeat after me: me gustas demasiado.”

“me gustas demasiado,” you echo, trying to keep your voice steady.

“that one’s like ‘i like you too much,’” she says. “very accurate.”

“for who?”

“shut up,” she says, but she’s smiling as she sits a little closer on the bed, your knees brushing. “okay, next one. try: me pones muy tímida.”

“me pones muy tímida,” you repeat, your accent not terrible.

“that means you make me shy,” she explains.

“do i?” you ask, shifting closer.

she blinks. “i—okay, not ready for that level of honesty,” she mutters, ears going pink. “new phrase. advanced level.”

you raise an eyebrow. “already?”

“you said you like a challenge.” she thinks for a moment, then: “okay. say: estoy caliente.”

you squint. “that means i’m hot, right? like temperature.”

“um,” she says, then hesitates. “kind of.”

“kind of?”

“like. technically.” her eyes flick away. “just say it.”

you sigh. “fine. estoy caliente.”

you hit the vowels a little too clean, the t a little too sharp, but it’s close. her reaction is immediate.

she goes absolutely still.

“dani?” you ask. “was that bad?”

she swallows, hard. “say it again.”

“estoy caliente?”

this time you get the rhythm perfect. you see it hit her like a truck—her breath stutters, her eyes darken, and she presses her thighs together like she just remembered she has legs.

“okay,” she says, voice noticeably lower. “note for the future? it can also mean something else.”

“…what?”

“that’s ‘i’m horny’ hot.”

you stare. “you’re joking.”

“nope.” she clears her throat.

“so i just accidentally told you that?”

“yeah,” she says quietly. “you did.”

you sit with that for a second. then you watch her face—the way she’s trying so hard to stay composed—and decide to be a menace.

“estoy caliente,” you say again, deliberately this time, slower. your eyes don’t leave hers.

she looks like her soul leaves her body for a full three seconds.

“y/n.”

“what?”

“don’t—” her voice cracks. “don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“who says i don’t mean it?” you ask, leaning in slightly.

her eyes snap to yours. whatever flimsy denial she had been holding onto evaporates right there on the bed.

“you can’t just say that,” she whispers.

“you told me to practice,” you remind her. “i’m being a good student.”

“this is not studying.”

“then what is it?”

she looks at your mouth, then back up. “torture.”

“for who?”

“me,” she says, like it’s obvious. “absolutely me.”

you shift closer, until you’re right in her space. “and what if i said it again?”

“y/n—”

“estoy caliente,” you murmur, watching her carefully. “contigo.”

she makes this quiet, helpless sound, and you watch her completely unravel.

“fuck,” she breathes.

“was my pronunciation good?” you ask innocently.

“perfect,” she says, voice wrecked. “too perfect.”

“so what are you going to do about it?”

she stares at you, and you can see the exact moment she gives up on pretending. “i don’t—i’ve never—”

“i know,” you say softly, reaching up to cup her face. “that’s okay. just tell me what you want.”

“you,” she says immediately. “i want you. but i don’t know how to—”

“you don’t have to know,” you tell her. “just let me.”

“let you what?”

“take care of you.”

her breath catches. “okay.”

you kiss her then, slow and deep, and she melts into it immediately. when you push her back gently onto the bed, she goes willingly, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“is this okay?” you ask, hovering over her.

“yes. very okay.”

you kiss her again, taking your time now, learning what makes her sigh, what makes her arch up into you. when your hand slides under her shirt, she gasps.

“okay?” you check.

“yes. god, yes. don’t stop.”

so you don’t. you explore slowly, watching her reactions, cataloging what makes her breath hitch, what makes her grab at you. when you finally slide your hand between her thighs, she’s already trembling.

“tell me if i do something you don’t like,” you say.

“you won’t,” she breathes. “i trust you.”

you lean down, kissing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, feeling her breath hitch. you take your time, your hands sliding up to guide her legs wider as you settle between them. when you first press your tongue against her, she let out a sharp, surprised gasp, her fingers immediately tangling in your hair.

“y/n,” she moans, her hips giving a small, involuntary jerk.

you don’t rush. you focus on the rhythm, swirling and pressing until she’s arching off the bed, her head tossed back. she starts whispering frantically in spanish—words you haven’t learned yet, but the tone tells you everything you need to know. you use your thumb to apply pressure where she needs it most, and the sound she makes is wrecked, a high, needy broken thing that vibrates through you.

as she gets closer, you slide two fingers inside her, finding her pace. she’s incredibly slick, her walls tight and pulsing around you. she begins to chant your name like a prayer, her grip on your hair tightening as she meets every thrust of your fingers.

“ahí mismo, por favor…” she gasps, her voice raw. “no pares, sigue así, mi amor”

right there, please… don’t stop, keep going like that, my love

you pick up the speed, your tongue and fingers working in perfect sync until she shudders violently. she cries out, a long, breathless string of spanish as her climax hits, her body trembling under your touch for what feels like minutes.

after, she’s catching her breath, looking up at you with this dazed expression.

“holy shit,” she says.

you laugh softly, moving up to lay beside her. “good?”

“good?” she repeats. “that was—i didn’t know it could—” she stops, makes a frustrated sound. “you broke my english.”

“should i apologize?”

“absolutely not.” she pulls you down for a kiss, her taste still on your lips.

“so,” she says eventually. “i think i’m definitely not straight.”

you laugh. “yeah? what gave it away?”

“shut up.” but she’s smiling, pressing her face into the crook of your neck.

“we should probably start getting ready soon. that schedule—”

“i know.” but she pulls you closer instead of letting go. “five more minutes.”

“we’re going to be late.”

“worth it.”

you settle against her, and it’s quiet for a moment. comfortable. then:

“buenos días, mi amor,” she says softly.

you laugh. “it’s 11am.”

“i don’t care. i get to say it for real now. not just as practice.”

“say it again,” you tell her.

“buenos días, mi amor.”

you kiss her slowly. “te quiero.”

“te quiero también.” she’s smiling against your mouth. “we really do need to get ready though. megan will kill us if we’re late.”

the variety show filming is… interesting. you’re both professional, obviously. you’ve been trained for this. but there are moments—small ones—where you catch each other’s eyes and have to look away before you start smiling like idiots.

at one point, during a break, megan corners you near the snack table.

“okay, what’s going on?”

“what do you mean?”

“you and dani. you’re both being weird.”

“we’re not being weird.”

“you’re being SO weird. sophia noticed too. and lara. basically everyone.”

“we’re just tired.”

“uh huh.” megan grabs a water bottle. “sure. tired. that’s why you both look like you have a secret.”

“we don’t have a secret.”

“y/n.”

“megan.”

she studies your face for a long moment, then her eyes go wide. “oh my god.”

“what?”

“you didn’t.”

“didn’t what?”

“you know what.” she lowers her voice. “did you finally—”

“we have to go back on set,” you say quickly, grabbing your own water and escaping.

but you catch dani’s eye across the set, and the way she bites her lip tells you she’s thinking about this morning too.

this is going to be a long shoot.

you get home around 9pm, both exhausted. you’re barely through the door when dani catches your hand.

“hey,” she says softly.

“hey.”

“so… we should probably talk about this,” she says. “like, what this is.”

you nod, following her to the couch. you sit close, knees touching.

“i know this is new for you,” you start. “and i don’t want to rush anything or make you feel—”

“i love you,” she interrupts.

you freeze. “what?”

she turns to face you fully. “te amo. i love you.” she says it in english too, like she needs you to understand completely. “i think i have for a while. maybe since you started sending me those voice notes every morning and i realized hearing your voice was the best part of my day.”

you feel your eyes getting watery. “dani—”

“you don’t have to say it back if you’re not—”

“te amo también,” you interrupt. “i love you too. i think i have since you made me say ‘buenos días mi amor’ for the first time and looked at me like i was something special.”

she kisses you, soft and slow and sweet.

“so,” she says when she pulls back. “girlfriend?”

“i mean—if you want—we don’t have to label it if it’s too soon—”

“no!” she says quickly. “no, i want that. girlfriend. yes. absolutely yes.”

you grin and pull her close. “okay. good.”

you sit there for a while, just holding each other. then dani yawns.

“we should sleep,” you say. “we have that photoshoot tomorrow morning.”

“yeah.” but she doesn’t move. “your room or mine?”

“yours is closer.”

“practical. i like it.”

you end up in her bed, just curled up together. it’s nice. comfortable. right.

“it was never just practice for me,” you admit quietly.

she pulls back slightly to look at you. “really?”

“from like, week two? no. definitely not practice.”

“week two,” she repeats, smiling. “so when i asked you to add ‘mi amor’—”

“i was fully saying it to you. about you.”

she kisses you again, deeper this time. when she pulls back, her eyes are bright.

“buenos noches, mi amor.”

“te amo,” she whispers.

“te amo también.”

your phone buzzes with a duolingo reminder. then hers does too.

you both look at your phones, then at each other, and start laughing.

“well, there goes our streak,” you say.

“worth it,” she replies, tossing her phone aside and pulling you closer. “so worth it.”

she settles against your chest, and within minutes, her breathing evens out. you run your fingers through her hair, thinking about how you started learning spanish just because you were bored, and somehow ended up here.

best decision you ever made.

in the morning, before you even open your eyes, you hear your phone buzz. then another buzz.

you grab it, squinting at the screen.

dani: buenos días, mi amor

dani: sent that from the bathroom btw

dani: didn’t want to wake you but also couldn’t skip it

you grin and type back.

you: best way to wake up

you: te amo

dani: te amo también

dani: now go back to sleep we have 2 hours before the alarm. ill be out in a bit

you: yes ma’am

you put your phone down and close your eyes, still smiling.

duolingo can wait.

[pulpfriction01]

need scream katseye (maybe megan or sophia) and you’re quiet literally the only one i trust to do it justice you beautiful soul

SCREAM KATSEYE…pls elaborate…or am i just slow

[pulpfriction01]

this interaction made me giggle bc it reminded me of your daniela fic😭😭

coming back late but this had me giggling…interaction really said full circle moment 🤞🏼

[pulpfriction01]

omg i just read arrested I LOVED IT u just gained a follower!! literally have such a big crush on dani AND sabrina pls no fighting can we all just kiss 😖😖😖

ugghhh u so get it 🤝🤝 THANK U SO MUCH

[pulpfriction01]

HEY WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN.. PLS UPDATE SOMETHING

new dani fic soon 🥴

[pulpfriction01]

i’m so star struck right now oh my gof we did it joe

pls this is mutual admiration society 😭 i hit follow in admiration

[ojsimpsondidit]

since your writing is so amazing, what do you read, what are some of your favourite fics?

Oooo okay i have to lock in for this question. there’s a lot of authors on this app with works that i adore, but i have an awful memory and an even worse energy level rn so i’ll just list the ones I read the most!!!

100% @manonsmartini, her work was actually what had inspired me to even start posting on here. It wasn’t even just her fics in general it’s the way she writes, so concise and smooth and passionate. she’s got so many fics that i love but my all time favourite has to be her “Hot-Broke and holy” Dani fic. It’s so fucking good i live for that fic. Not only is her work amazing, but she’s also a really cool and down to earth person. You guys should go show her some love and support, she deserves it so much.

Another author i really loved the work of is chocolaterrai/noxiousrai, especially her smau series. sucks so much what happened to her and i wish her the best in whatever she’s doing right now.

@pulpfriction01 and @neoplatinum also have amazing works- and again, amazing writing. Definitely go check them out cause they’re both some of my favourite authors on this app. This fic in particular by pulp “Headline: You’re ridiculous (and i like it)” went platinum in my room istg so good. Also Neo’s after hours series, is soooooo amazing- and was another thing that inspired me to actually start writing on here. i love their work so so so much.

A couple of other authors i want to mention are @jeylalol @m4nonz and @blossomcola. their works are more on the nsfw side so just a disclaimer if that’s not what you’re into- but if you are then i’d definitely recommend you check out their blogs. they really work overtime to respond to everyone’s requests so definitely go show them some support.

[pulpfriction01]

gang wake up u won a katsblr award

https://www.tumblr.com/katseyeawards/803669553418780672/winner-best-daniela-fluff-arrested

wht the frick yall.. so many incredible dani fics out there while mine somehow sneaked in.. ty so much u guys are the best ever

this might call for a celebratory fic

[pulpfriction01]

PLEASE WRITE THE POSSESSIVE AND JEALOUS SOPHIA VER WITH OLIVIA’S CONCERT !!! I BEG OF YOU

hmm should i..😵

[pulpfriction01]

THE PEOPLE WANT IT

😁😁

[pulpfriction01]

I wanna see how the Olivia Rodrigo concert would unfold but with Sophia instead !! like it would be so fun seeing her get all riled up and possessive after seeing a fellow filipino popstar whose representative color is purple and is ver similar to her hit on her girlfriend HEKSHEKSUEKSUE PLS SEE THE VISION

wait… ur onto something…