#flo rida

we had meant to try to get this out for mardi gras, but we’ve been really sick and it just didn’t happen this year. at any rate, this was inspired by how our headspace can all come together when we hear a song we like and have a good time together (specifically when all three hosts hear ‘GDFR’ by flo rida—idk they all love it lol). being a part of a system does not have to mean you’re constantly suffering. you can find joy in being a system and discover how to love and have a good time with your headmates.

Jay and you, two strangers brought together by your families, were married ten months ago. At first, there was a gentle awkwardness in the air—not cold, just unfamiliar. You were introverted and quiet, not the demure stereotype, but simply someone who spoke when it mattered.

Jay respected that, and in return, you gave him space to settle into the strange new life of cohabitation with a partner chosen for you.

The initial days overflowed with small, stilted gestures. Dinner at the kitchen table felt like an exercise in formality—Jay carefully passing you the salt, you quietly offering to wash the dishes, both measuring your words.

The apartment was unusually tidy, as if neither of you wanted to intrude upon the other’s comfort zone. Yet, those shared silences began to soften into something warm: muted smiles over late-night TV, a shared look of amusement when your neighbor played love songs just a little too loudly.

Jay liked how you never feigned innocence—when you disagreed, you made your point. One Sunday, a disagreement over which movie to watch ended with you pitching your honest review, and Jay, surprised, found himself grinning at your wit.

You told him that just because you were shy didn’t mean you’d take nonsense, and he admired that clarity.

Slowly, ordinary moments started feeling intimate. Jay noticed your rituals: how you’d curl up with a romance novel after a tough day, how your eyes would light up each time you lingered around fresh flowers at weekend markets—even the way you tossed a blanket over both your laps during chilly evenings.

Sometimes you quietly left little notes—reminders for milk, a thank you for fixing the broken doorknob, a gentle “Let’s order dessert tonight?” Jay cherished every one, tucking them into a drawer.

The hush between you became affection, and the affection started growing roots.

It was one rainy night—just shy of your ten month anniversary—when Jay finally decided. He’d practiced his confession for weeks, played with the words until they felt right, debated if flowers were too cheesy.

They were, but so was falling in love—especially with someone who adored sweet cliché moments.

He grabbed a bouquet of your favorite blooms, feeling both giddy and nervous, and walked toward your shared apartment with a pounding heart.

When he rang the bell, you opened the door in your cozy pajamas, eyes curious. The sight of Jay holding the flowers made you gasp softly, a sweet smile blooming on your lips.

He’d never brought flowers before, and your delighted reaction made his heart flutter even more.

He quietly reached for your hand and led you inside, sitting you down upon the couch. You squeezed his hand, your quiet strength grounding him.

Surprised by his silence and sudden change in behaviour, you asked him if he wanted to say something, and he whispered, “I've got confessions to make.”

Your expression flickered with surprise, but you nodded, urging him on.

Jay stared into your eyes. “I never knew before,” he began, voice trembling with both nerves and hope. “But I guess, just a spark ignites the flame. Living together—being with you—it’s changed everything. Every time you leave a note on the fridge, every time you argue with me instead of pretending, every time you get all shy but then say exactly what you mean—I fall a little more in love with you.”

You smiled, getting a little emotional, tears glittering but laughter in your voice. “Of course I love you too, Jay,” you said, soft but clear. “Didn’t you know?”

Relief rushed over his face, and Jay let out a sigh. “You have no idea how many times I practiced,” he said. “I wanted to get it right. I just…the movies, the flowers—it’s all cringe, yeah? But I wanted your confession to be just as sweet as the ones in your books—maybe even better."

You squeezed his hand and assured him, “It was perfect. Just like you.”

When Jay teasingly asked if his confession met your romance novel standards, you giggled, telling him it was even better than the stories.

He hugged you tightly, pressing a warm kiss to your temple, and mumbled with a grin, “If you can be my Bonnie, I’ll be Clyde today.”

THANKYOUU FOR READING~~