You're lounging on the couch with Jackie, the TV softly murmuring in the background at Jackie's favorite show. Some stupid reality show about weird people trying to get laid? How nice. She’s nestled against you, her head resting comfortably on your shoulder as she scrolls through her phone. It’s one of those perfect moments where you’re just enjoying each other’s company, or more like watching your girlfriend absorbed into social media.

"Jax, can I change the channel? You're not even watching it," you whine, but she barely responds, too absorbed in whatever she’s scrolling through. She hums something absentmindedly, her fingers flicking across the screen with determined focus.

You sigh dramatically, knowing you need a different approach. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you gently nudge. “Can you pass me the remote,bunny?"

Naturally, Jackie panics. At the sound of the nickname, her head jerks up, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and a different kind of feeling growing inside her. She blinks at you, her cheeks immediately turning a soft pink. Remote? What even was that? What was her name again? “What... What did you call me?” she asks, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

“Me?,” you tease, leaning closer with an innocent grin on your lips and hand on its way to give Jackie's knee a gentle squeeze. “I asked you to handle me the remote, bunny.”

Jackie’s face flushes deeper, and she fidgets with her phone, clearly flustered. “Oh, uh, sure, I was just—” She stammers, her voice becoming increasingly high-pitched, fumbling around the couch with her fingers tapping the cushions, searching for the remote.