Michelle Jones (MJ) Imagines (gxg)

soft & warm

"Can you show me your sketches from today?" you asked Michelle, looking up at her from your head nuzzled deep in her lap. She started to push off the bed, pressing the palms of her hands into the mattress to grab her sketchbook from her bag, when you reached out to clutch her wrist. She held her hand up in the air, your hand still tightly wrapped around her skinny wrist, questioning your grip.

"You're soft and warm and I don't want you to move," you mumbled, pulling her hand back down underneath the layers of blankets to rest on your thigh. MJ rolled her eyes, a persistent habit of hers you wouldn't ever want her to break because you loved the sarcastic girl with all of your heart. She sunk back down into the bed, running her free hand up and down your spine as you smoothly encircled your arms around her waist.

When you were together, you two either spent the whole time discussing random facts she read about or looking at drawings of people in crisis, which was basically anyone who caught Michelle's eye. But sometimes you fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's warm cuddles, not feeling the need to speak.

"Michelle, tell me something nice," you broke the quiet after a few minutes passed, and she cocked an eyebrow but shrugged, accustomed to your random questions at this point in your relationship.

"Well in the book I'm reading–"

"No, I meant about this," you nodded your head to your legs intertwined under the blankets, "about us." Her cheeks paled as she turned them to the side, too late to hide her shyness from you. It wasn't that she wasn't sweet and sentimental, she just had a harder time showing it than you.

MJ parted her lips, but no words came out no matter how much she wanted them too. Seeing her reaction, you shifted in her grasp, pulling your hands off of her waist to place a hand over her cheek. She visibly relaxed, and let her face fall into your touch as she gathered the courage to admit something to you.

"Can you not look at me when I say this?" she shakily asked, and you immediately nodded, burying your head into her soft cotton long-sleeve shirt.

"I love kissing you, Y/N," she whispered, hoping it would be quiet enough for you not to hear the words but still count as 'something nice.' But you couldn't unhear them, five words replayed over and over in your mind, and you knew as soon as you got home you'd spend all night writing them in your journal so you'd never forget.

Another pause filled the space between you, as you listened to her heart beat rapidly and felt her chest rise and fall against the side of your cheek resting on top of her. You still didn't flick your gaze up to meet hers, instead you moved your hands to intertwine your fingers between hers. When her heartbeat finally slowed down to a somewhat-normal pace, you raised your head, lips practically grazing hers.

"So kiss me, then."