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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.

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