#proximity switch function

[visheshgroupindia]

Proximity Sensors: Enhancing Efficiency and Safety Across Industries

What are Proximity Sensors

Proximity sensors identify an object's presence even in the absence of physical touch. Without coming into direct touch with the item, they are made to recognize when it enters the sensor field. In a variety of manufacturing applications, proximity sensors are used to identify the proximity of metallic and non-metallic items.

How Do Proximity Sensors Function? 

In the least complex terms, proximity sensors work by communicating information about the presence or movement of an item into an electrical sign. They yield an ON signal when the article enters their reach. There are a few critical contrasts in the manner that different closeness sensors work, as made sense below: 

Capacitive Nearness Sensor Working Guideline Capacitive 

Proximity sensors work by identifying changes in capacitance between the sensor and an item. Factors, for example, distance and the size of the article will influence how much capacitance. The sensor just recognizes any progressions in the limit produced between the two. 

Inductive Nearness Sensor Working Standard

Inductive sensors work by recognizing vortex flows causing attractive misfortune, created by outer attractive fields on a conductive surface. The discovery curl produces an air conditioner attractive field, and impedance changes are distinguished because of the created whirlpool flows. 

Attractive Vicinity Switches Working Rule Attractive 

Proximity switches are similarly basic and clear. The reed end of the switch is worked by a magnet. At the point when the reed switch is enacted and ON, the sensor additionally turns ON. 

It is additionally significant that proximity sensors are not impacted by the surface shade of the article identified. They depend simply on actual development and the movement of an item, so its tone doesn't assume a part in that frame of mind of the sensor.

The Role of Proximity Sensors in Modern Industries

Sensors have become indispensable in today's automated world, serving important functions such as tracking and positioning control. In this field, location and proximity sensors are reshaping several industries. By detecting nearby vehicles in the automotive industry and accurately tracking the location of delivered packages in production, these sensors show their versatility and potential in several fields.

Robotics

Both position and proximity sensors are used in many applications in the field of robotics. For example, linear position sensors are commonly used in robotics and industrial settings for object detection, part fixation, and machine control. These sensors play an essential role in detecting the location, distance, and proximity of moving objects and provide important information for robot navigation and manipulation.

Industrial Automation

Today many manufacturers use these sensors to improve work productivity and efficiency. Integrating position and proximity sensors into production systems enables accurate detection and tracking of objects on conveyor belts, robotic arms, and assembly lines. This combination enables precise object positioning and motion control in industrial processes.

Security systems

Combining proximity and location sensors, security systems can be used to track and control the movement of objects in a certain area. It is useful in surveillance, burglar alarms, and access control systems.

Automotive Applications

The combination of these position and proximity sensors can be used in parking systems to detect open spaces and nearby cars in a parking lot, and accurately track the location of a vehicle for parking assistance. These sensors are also used to improve the safety and performance of Advanced Driver Assistance Systems (ADAS) vehicles.

Smart Healthcare

Location and proximity sensors play a vital role in healthcare, facilitating the monitoring and management of various aspects of medical facilities. Wearable proximity sensors play an important role in both acute and chronic health conditions, as they allow non-contact detection and monitoring of physical movements and interactions.

Food and Beverage Industry

A proximity sensor for food is a type of sensor that is designed specifically for use in the food industry. It is used to detect the presence or absence of food items during various stages of food processing, packaging, and handling. 

As technology advances, the integration of location and proximity sensors is expected to increase security, automation, and sensor innovation. based systems in various industries.

[mickandmusings]

you’re losing me

pairing: tyler owens x f! reader

word count: 5.2k

summary:

when tyler, yet again, forgets an important date while he's caught up in chasing, y/n is at her wits end. their relationship feels like it's dying, and he just might have dealt the final blow. after a series of rather unfortunate happenings, it's up to the rest of the wranglers to set them free from the disaster they created.

warnings: ANGST with a capital a; tyler is kind of an ass; halfway edited (sorry); forced proximity; not my most favorite thing i've ever written; sort of suggestive but not explicit

-

The ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall taunts her, reminding her that time was continuing to pass by. She taps her fingers against the table, her patience fleeting.

Y/N picks up her phone to check it for nearly the twentieth time in the past half hour. She had hoped to look down and see a missed call or an apologetic message from her boyfriend, who, at present, is an hour and a half late for their anniversary dinner. She had the table set for two some time ago: a home cooked meal in the oven, a bottle of white wine to split, and a candle lit in the center of the table. She sported a flowy sundress that tapered off mid-calf-Tyler's favorite dress on her-one that she just knew was going to end up on the floor of their bedroom by now.

Clearly, she'd been mistaken.

She presses the button on the side and the screen illuminates the dimly-lit room. The only thing that greets her is an empty lockscreen- a picture of Tyler smiling down at her as she looks up at him, taken over a year ago. She sighs in annoyance, putting the phone back down as the tear in her heart only grows bigger and bigger. She'd known this would happen, and despite all her efforts to avoid it, he had still forgotten.

She'd started two weeks beforehand, by telling him that she wanted to spend the night of their anniversary with him, alone. He'd agreed, claiming it was a great idea. That night, she put the reminder in his phone calendar and wrote it into the paper one that lived on his fridge. A week before, she'd mentioned it a thousand times: over dinner, during grocery shopping, and even during post-bliss pillow talk. He'd pull her into his arms and kiss her head, assuring her every time that he'd be there with bells on. Naively, she had believed him. Now, she was sitting alone at his dinner table in her prettiest sundress, feeling like a complete fool.

Her phone dings, and she feels the rip in her heart stitch itself back together for a slight moment. When she notices it's not Tyler, her shoulders slump.

The Tornado Wranglers are LIVE! Click here to watch now!

She's quick to click it, watching as it loads before she sees Boone's face in the frame, the top of Tyler's hat visible. Her heart shatters, watching as her boyfriend smiles and hollers for the camera, chasing a storm. She'd known there was a big storm forming for the past few days: when Tyler went out on a chase, she watched the weather as if it were a nail-biting thriller. Hearing him on the livestream had been the first time she'd seen or heard from him all day, despite his promises to be next to her this very moment.

She exits the live and stands from the dinner table, already knowing her boyfriend wouldn't be home any time soon. She blows out the candle and puts the unopened wine back in the kitchen, wrapping the dinner she'd made in tin foil and tossing it into the fridge. Despite her simmering anger, she knew Tyler would come home drenched, so she set out a dry change of clothes and a towel on the washing machine for him to see. Shaking her head, she bit her lip and swallowed thickly as she moved to the en suite bathroom and changed out of the dress, her perfectly curled hair wasted. She throws on her pajamas and her (intentionally not Tyler's) hoodie, climbing into her side of their shared bed. She plugs her phone into the charger and switches on the silent function, not wanting to be bothered as she wallows. Finally, she plops down onto her pillow and curls under the blankets, her annoyance slowly fading into disappointment. She tries to push the tears back, feeling stupid for crying over something so trivial, but it had hurt that he'd forgotten something that was supposed to be important to both of them. She feels asinine, like a dog with a bird at his door, only to be shut out. A choked sob slips past her lips, and she's done for. She curls in on herself, legs to her chest as she cries until her body could no longer take it, and lets her eyes shut for sleep.

-

Hours later, Tyler stumbles into his house, plopping off his soaking wet boots on the rug at the garage door. He's slightly dry from his ride home, but his clothes still cling to his skin, making him shiver when he walks into the house. He turns to lock the door behind him, shuffling into the laundry room that connected the garage and the house. He puts his wet hat on the hook, peeling out of his sopping shirt and jeans, finding a change of clothes and towel set out for him. He smiled, knowing he'd likely find his girlfriend passed out on the couch with the weather forecast still playing on the screen. He changed quickly, hands itching to pull her into his hold and fall into a deep sleep. As he leaves the laundry room and heads to the kitchen, he notes the dinner table set with placemats and silverware next to them. He gives the set up a confused look before shrugging, tossing back a glass of water before walking towards the living room.

The empty room stops him in his tracks completely. The TV had been shut off, only a black screen staring back at him. There had been no indication that Y/N had been here at all-the blankets were folded neatly into the basket, pillows still upright and straight. He looked for anything-a charger plugged into the wall, her current read on the coffee table, an empty mug-but found no signs of the girl he loved. 'Maybe she had an early night,' his mind tried to grasp an explanation of why she wasn't where she always was when he was out on a chase.

Tyler's hand wipes his face, rubbing his tired eyes as he stomps up the stairs to their shared bedroom. The hallway is cloaked in darkness, and he has to use his phone's flashlight just to make his way to the door. He turns it off when he turns the knob and pushes the door open, not wanting the blinding light to disturb her. He makes out her figure curled into her side of the bed, looking small. He frowns again, it was always guaranteed she'd be curled into his pillow if he was gone, often wrapped in some article of his clothing, if not completely dressed in only his clothes.

Wordlessly, he comes to her side of the bed to kiss her head, checking in to make sure she was okay. Moonlight from the window illuminates her face, and he finds his chest tightening as he looks at her. Tears had dried to her skin, and a frown was etched onto her face, even in her slumber. He pushes hair from her face, finding the strand curled, and kisses her forehead lightly. He pulls the covers over her more, making sure she was entirely tucked in. With a worried frown now marking his own face, he shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He opens the door and flicks on the light, the sight in front of him bringing his confusion to new heights.

A white sundress stares back at him, sitting crumpled on the counter. The puffy sleeves are deflated, and the slit on the leg had flopped over, exposing the other side of the fabric. This dress only made an appearance for special occasions, mainly because he couldn't keep his hands off of her when she wore it. She'd talked about it for weeks, she was going to wear it on their anniver-he stills-no. Tyler's heart sinks to his feet, hammering against his chest so loudly it rattles his eardrums. There is no way he'd forgotten. The unusual things in his home began to add up, and, with shaking hands, he reaches for his phone and stares down at the photo of her smiling back at him. She's standing in a poncho, drenched, but smiling as she uses her hand to point towards a barreling storm in the distance. Sure enough, in the slew of notifications he'd ignored, sits a calendar reminder:

'Our anniversary date ;) <3'

He plops down on the side of the tub and scrolls through the messages and calls Y/N had left, clicking on the voicemail she'd left, her sweet voice filling his ears:

'Hey Ty, it's almost nine, I just...um, just checking on you. I-I don't know if you're just running late or you forgot, but...I love you, see you soon. Be careful, please. Call me when you get this.'

He pieces it together quickly-the table set up for two, his favorite dress she'd been wearing, her hair curled just to look nice for him-the realization guts him. He had been stupid, so caught up in the thrill of the chase he completely forgot about the one thing that always brought him home. His brain recalls her excitement over the dinner she would cook, and he had planned on bringing flowers and her favorite sweets from that bakery downtown, hoping to charm that dress right off of her. He pushes his damp hair back with his hands, he had fucked up, and royally. The reason she hadn't done the things she normally did when he was gone was because he wasn't supposed to be gone at all.

He breaths deeply before brushing his teeth, sliding into the bed next to her and pulling her close. He'd hold her while he could, because he'd spend the next few days groveling for her forgiveness. He'd wake up early-clean up the dishes from last night, cook her breakfast, do the laundry, pick up groceries for the week. Hell, he'd kiss her fucking feet if it meant she'd forgive him. His eyes shut closed with sleep, and night quickly fades into morning.

-

Y/N is the first to wake, her skin burning under Tyler's touch. She immediately rolls away from his grasp, and the content look on his sleeping face makes her flame with anger. She rolls her eyes and stomps out of the room, purposefully slamming the door to the bedroom enough to rattle the frames on the walls. The noise jostles Tyler from his sleep, and he sits up in his bed, allowing himself only a minute of solitude before he realizes he's under the dog house.

Quietly, he stomps down the stairs, finding Y/N already standing at the sink, sleeves pushed up as she scrubs at a pot hastily. Her face is drawn into an angry frown, and the air is thick with tension. There's none of her music filtering through the tiny speaker in the window, none of her humming as she works. She's angry, she's hurt, and all she really wants is an apology.

"Mornin'," his voice is raspy, and he awkwardly hovers behind her, watching from a distance as she ignores him. He comes over and lightly grabs her arm, attempting to take over the task. "I can do that, darlin', you go sit at the bar and I'll cook you breakfast, yeah?"

She snatches her arm from his grasp and gives him an unpleasant look, only returning to the dishes in front of her as she shakes her head. He gives a deep sigh, stepping away from her to give her space.

Her silent treatment was always the worst.

"Baby, please, I-I know I fucked up, I'm just trying to make it up to you, let me-"

She lets out an angry laugh, dropping the pot back into the soapy sink with a shake of her head. Her veins fill with a fury she can't control, and she's almost blinded by her rage.

"Fucked up is an understatement, Tyler."

Her angry words were piercing, but at least she was talking.

"Y/N/N, I know, I'm going to make this up to you. I'll-"

"I don't want to hear your lies that I hear every time you mess up, Tyler. You're not going to take time away from chasing, so you can stop feeding me that same lie."

Her honesty stops him in his tracks. He starts to feel defensive, his own anger rising to the surface.

"Just listen-"

The bowl she's cleaning clamors against the other dishes in a loud fashion, making him jump slightly as she turns to face him. Fury is written across her face completely.

"No! You listen! I planned this for weeks, Tyler, weeks! I did everything, the cooking, the cleaning, the waiting around for four fucking hours! All you had to do was show up, and you couldn't even do that."

She swallows thickly, the anger beginning to fester into the sadness she'd been shoving down. Her chest moves in short breaths, and she tries to control her breathing as she looks up at him. He notes her teary eyes-she's not really angry, she's hurting.

"It would've been fine if this was a one off thing, but it isn't. You and I both know that." Her voice is lacking the fire it once had, replaced with a wave of vulnerability she rarely lets show. She pauses and wipes her hands with the kitchen towel in her hands. Her eyes dart across the room in thought, never meeting his. "First it was my birthday, and then not just one, but two dates, and now this. Every other time I just let it go, not wanting to start anything, but I can't anymore, because it just keeps happening. Tyler, I love you, but you're breaking my heart."

Her bottom lip wobbles as she takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, trying to have a conversation with the man she was begging to love her the way she loved him.

"I'm not asking you to give it up, I'm just asking for one day, maybe every couple weeks? I feel like I sleep next to you but I never see you, and-," her eyebrows furrow before she takes a defensive step back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I just don't want to have to beg you to want to spend time with me."

Tyler's heart shatters. He fumbles to come up with the right words, knowing the wrong ones could ruin everything. He loved her immeasurably, and he'd been so goddamn blind. His mind raced with the dozens of things she does for him without being asked-making sure he had dry clothes after chasing, ensuring he had a decent meal every time he came home, tens upon hundreds of tiny actions that he had taken for granted. When was the last time he'd done something like that for her? The one time she had asked him, weeks in advance, to save a day for her, he had neglected it completely, unintentionally or not.

She looks down at her feet, feeling so incredibly small, invisible, like the man in front of her can't see her at all. She was tired of trying to keep their relationship alive all on her own. She wasn't in denial that Tyler loved her, she knew he did, but the last few months had felt as if he hardly remembered she was there. Her anxiety spirals-did he really love her, or was she just convenient for him?

"I know that chasing is important to you, and I love seeing you do it, but it always comes before me. I just want to know, will I ever come first?" Her voice is so, so hurt, and the girl he knows has withered away. The only thing that remains is the shell of her in front of him, pleading for him to just notice her. "It's okay if not, I-I just need to know. Because I can't keep having this fight, just tell me the truth so if the answer is no, I can move on."

Tyler's heart hammers, his own insecurity flaring.

"W-What? No, no, chasin' doesn't come before you, ever. Y-You know that."

She gives him a doubtful look.

"You do know that right?"

"Tyler, name one time that you've dropped everything from chasing a storm to do something for me?"

She stands leaned against the counter, arms crossed in front of her. His mind cannot conjure one situation, and he knows she's right, he'd never put her first. Not once. He had missed her birthday party just last month for a big storm over in Kansas, on his own. The rest of the Wranglers had even cancelled to be there for her. Both Boone and Lilly both had called him from the party to reprimand him, and he'd stayed anyways. Then he'd done it again, twice, just two weeks later. Each time, she'd forgiven him with open arms, never fighting him on it, simply accepting his lie that he'd never do it again.

She simply nods, waiting to see how long it would take Tyler to realize just how miserable this had been for her. He grows defensive, trying to make excuses for his actions.

"That storm in Kansas, w-we haven't seen a storm that scale since-"

"Tyler, save it," she starts, her voice growing an edge. "You answered my question, that's all I needed to know."

He watches as she literally and metaphorically throws in the towel, a somber look written across her face.

“I-I need some air.”

She says nothing else, only sliding on her shoes and slipping out the garage door. He expects to hear the jangling of her keys and then the roar of her car’s engine, but neither come-she’d taken out on foot.

Tyler ignores the rush of tears that threatened to spill from behind his eyes, his chest so full of guilt it feels like he might combust from one single sob. He stews in his emotions as he resumes the task she'd started-at least when she got back, the dishes would be one less thing for her to worry about. As his hands scrubbed at various pots and pans, he thought about the thousands of things he wanted to do to show her that he was serious. He wanted to run after her, to pull her back into his house, but he knew she needed her space, time away from him to think. Tyler wrestles with his emotions, knowing this could very well be the end of them, and it'd be his fault entirely. He'd let the best thing in his life slip entirely out of his grasp, all because he'd had his head in the clouds. It had been obvious to everyone around him, except him. How had he been so blind to her anguish?

He moves around the kitchen in complete silence, only the rattle of the dishes he's putting away filling his ears. He ponders over the dark hue forming across the sky, wishing Y/N had taken a jacket or an umbrella with her. He wonders if he should call her, just to tell her that he could leave while she stayed here, he didn't want her in the rain. He doesn't overthink it and pulls up her contact, letting it ring before he hears vibrating. His eyes turn to the direction of the noise.

Shit.

She'd left her phone here.

He turns his attention to the slew of missed messages on his own phone. Just twenty minutes ago, Dexter had texted him about a storm forming just miles from his home. The messages after were from Dani, Boone, and Lilly, all asking if he and Y/N were okay. His eyebrows pinched and he frowned, about to respond with a question mark before he heard the shrill ring of the tornado siren outside his window. His eyes glance up to see a darkening sky, heavy clouds sitting low in the sky.

He tosses his phone into his pocket before he's pulling on his still-wet boots and bolting out his garage door. A tornado was minutes from hitting here, and his girlfriend was wandering around aimlessly. She couldn't have gone far, his house sat miles from town, the only neighbors being a relatively empty home the next street over-the family only visited during the winter months, they paid him handsomely to keep their grass cut when they weren't in town-so he knew that she wouldn't have anyone to look out for her. His boots clicked on asphalt, his voice hoarse as he yelled after her, her name falling desperately from his lips as the wind whipped around his face.

With no signs of her appearing, his heart began to hammer against his chest. Rain began to pelt his clothes and it only urged his aching legs to move faster. His mind conjures images he fears-her stuck under a collapsed tree or shed, left for dead because he'd been stupid. They urged him to the neighbor's house, chest searing with anxiety as he heaved, still not seeing anything-no flashes of the simple dress she'd been wearing, or the cardigan she'd wore over it tossed somewhere. Before his brain could stop him, he was pulling the spare key from under the mat, all but trespassing into his neighbor's home, shouting her name. Nothing.

He slams the door, running a hand through his hair as he begins to panic. His chest feels tight, his mind growing fuzzy with the thought of her being out in this storm alone. The air only grows more thick, and a crack of lightning startles him. It sends him into taking off on foot in their backyard, even slinging open the door of the storm shelter to see if she'd hid there. It was empty, making him let out a string of curses to the sky.

Then, he hears her voice. He almost thinks he's imagining it, her tone is sweet and gentle, and he thinks he's losing his mind.

"Hey, it's okay little guy."

It's the voice he knows well-the voice she uses for animals and babies. His jade eyes turn to see her hair blowing in the wind, her dress wet from the weather. She's crouched down and attempting to move a stack of firewood from the neighbors yard, her eyes on alert she hears Tyler's footsteps crunch the ground behind her. She whips around, looking at him.

"Tyler, help me, there's a rabbit, he's stuck."

Tyler looks at her with wide eyes. His voice is loud over the sirens blaring in the air and the wind whipping.

"Darlin', there's a big ass storm coming right for us! Leave it! We gotta get down, now!"

Her eyes are fiery when she turns back to look at him.

"Then leave, but I'm not leaving him here!"

Her hands hastily moved large pieces of firewood, getting more and more drenched. She lifts a particularly heavy one and throws it across the grass.

"If you're just going to stand there and not help, then go! I don't need you hovering because you care all of a sudden!"

Tyler's heart shatters, she thought he didn't care? Of course he cared, but he was more concerned with keeping her safe. He sighs at her stubbornness, moving to help lift the firewood at a faster pace. She lifts a particularly stubborn piece, drawing her hand back quickly with a soft 'fuck!' He tosses her a concerned look but moves on working to get the firewood moved. His muscle flexes as Tyler throws the piece caging the animal in and watches as it bolts towards the treeline. He slings an arm around her shoulder as the roar of the storm grows closer, all but manhandling her into the storm shelter he'd just looked in. It wasn't shabby by any means, well stocked and clean, but small. He shuts the door with a grunt, turning to face her and watching as she digs through a first aid kit.

"What're you doin'?"

She says nothing, only sticking out her right hand for him to see. It's bleeding from a cut, tiny pieces of wood protruding from around it.

"Shit, baby," he moves to grab the kit from her. "Stop, just stop tryin' to do it on your own, it's only going to get worse."

She stills, looking up at him with dagger-like eyes.

"Look, you did your job. I'm safe here, you can go."

Go? Where the hell did she think he was going?

"I know you're itching to go chase it, it's probably going to be a big one."

Oh.

"You think I'm going to leave you here alone to go chase this thing?"

She shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

It's his turn to look offended, even though he shouldn't be. She was only speaking the truth. He knows he would be quick to defend himself, but he doesn't, knowing the hurt he'd bestowed upon her just hours beforehand. He lightly tugs the kit away from her, giving the soft, sympathetic eyes that had her hardened heart melting. He makes quiet work of removing the shards of wood, and moves to clean it with the tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol. She winces when it makes contact with the open wound, but a sweet kiss to her temple has her distracted as he finishes bandaging it. When he looks down at her, he finds her eyes already looking up at him. The look she gives him begs him to say something, to just apologize and say he'd do better, and actually mean it this time. He opens his mouth to speak, but it's cut off by a boisterous slam to the shelter door, one that startles Y/N, and she slides into his hold without thinking.

"What the hell was that?!" Her voice trembles.

"I don't know." He doesn't want to move her from his arms, but he needs to see what's going on. He kisses her temple again, setting her on the twin sized mattress that sat on the ground. He makes his way up the stairs of the shelter, moving to push the door open. He knows it's a stupid, risky move, but he does it anyway.

He pushes it forward, the door not even budging. He frowns, moving positions to put his entire body weight on the door, and the door remains shut. He pushes with his entire strength multiple times, before his mind draws a conclusion.

"It's probably a tree or somethin'," He sighs as he steps away from the door. "Probably got knocked down by the wind, fell over on top of the door."

"So we're trapped here?"

"For the time being, yes," He starts, coming to sit down next to her, her head resting on his shoulder. "But I'll get in touch with Dexter and Dani, maybe Boone too. See if one of them can get a truck out here and move it. We'll have to wait for this storm to pass though."

He fishes out his phone and begins to type, his eyes darting across the screen before Dexter's typing bubble finally forms into a message.

'We'll be there as soon as this storm settles!'

Y/N nods when he shows her the message, moving to rest her head on his chest, her heart racing. Without a word, he pulls her into his lap, his eyes now focused on her bandaged hand. She notes his concern quickly.

"It's fine, doesn't even really hurt. Just stings."

He shakes his head.

"Doesn't matter. You got hurt, again, because I did somethin' dumb as hell. Seems like all I've done for the past few months is hurt you. M'sorry, I really am. I fucked up, and I'm prepared to grovel for it."

She nods, biting her lip as she pushes a section of wet hair out of his face.

"You did, but that doesn't mean you can't fix it. Just, this time, promise you'll actually do what you say you will. Don't let it be empty words."

He makes an 'X' motion over the center of his chest-cross my heart-and watches as a small smile forms across her face. He notes it's genuine nature and it forms a smile of his own across his face.

He pulls her head softly under his chin, moving his face to where he's whispering directly into her ear. She leans into his warmth, still shivering from her damp clothes.

"I love you," his voice is a sincere whisper, laced with every ounce of emotion he can muster. She kisses the underside of his jaw, making him close his eyes and sigh.

"I know. I love you too, even when you really piss me off."

He lets out a chuckle, kissing behind her ear, a spot that makes her entire frame stiffen in his hold. He places another one just under it, making her pull away for a moment.

"You're playing with fire, Owens. What are you gonna do, take me on this twin mattress on the floor?"

Her voice is laced with sarcasm and humor, completely joking. One look in his now emerald green irises tells her he wasn't joking, not one ounce of him thought it was a joke.

"Well, might as well start my grovelin' as quickly as possible, got a lot to catch up on." He kisses the spot again, making her hand fly to his damp hair. "And I haven't done this in far too long."

His hands come to her hips, pulling her in even closer in his lap. His calloused hands land on her ass, and she yelps.

“Ty, you can’t be serious.”

He sends her a raised eyebrow. His hand squeezes the supple skin of her bottom.

“Baby,” his voice is just above a whisper, deathly serious, his gaze darkening. “When have I ever joked about taking you any time, any place?"

Y/N shudders. "Never."

"That's what I thought."

His lips connect with hers in a rough manner, effectively shutting her up.

-

A few hours later, as Y/N lies across Tyler's chest, her dress tossed somewhere, she's awoken by a sharp knock at the shelter door.

"T? Y/N/N? Hey, we're here. We're gonna get this tree off of y'all!" Boone's voice fills her ears and she all but scrambles up, face flushed red with embarrassment at the thought of them walking into the shelter to see her and Tyler both bare. Tyler only snoozes and turns over, and she rolls her eyes, he'd sleep through a hurricane-literally. She grabs his shirt and lightly pops him with it.

"Tyler!" She whispers-shouts, quickly buttoning up the front of her dress she'd found on the floor. His jade eyes pop open, shuffling off the blanket that had been draped across him for his modesty.

"Hm, what?" His voice comes out groggy.

"Get up, get dressed, they're here!" She throws her cardigan back on her shoulders as she tosses his jeans over to him, his belt buckle just missing his head. Tyler rubs his eyes tiredly, not quite awake enough for him to care about being completely naked.

Y/N turns to him to fuss, but she's cut off at the creaking of the storm shelter's door opening. She stills, face burning from a hot blush. From above ground, Boone, Dani and Dexter look down at them, the latter two jaws dropping and darting their eyes away. Boone clocks Tyler and swallows thickly.

"Ty, man, I am seein' entirely way too much of you right now."

-

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[chansdoll]

창빈 ─── let me take care of you

♡ pairing ៸៸ gym trainer!changbin x afab!reader genre ៸៸ angst, fluff, smut ៸៸ cw ៸៸ vanilla , praise kink (if u really really squint), oral (f. rec) , shower sex , there's also a link hidden in the fic c; ♡ synopsis ៸៸ literally no plot just smut a/n ๑ here's a lil bini fic since someone requested this ! [ 3.2k words ] ♡ masterlist

smut below the cut - minors gtfo.

another day, another gym session.

except this wasn’t just any gym session—it was with changbin, your personal trainer, and quite possibly the most attractive man you’d ever met. you first crossed paths a few months ago when you decided it was time to pull yourself out of the post-breakup slump and hit the gym again. changbin had been scanning for potential clients when he noticed you, and from that moment, your fitness journey took an unexpected turn.

from the start, you found him absolutely captivating. his physique was the stuff of admiration—a flawlessly sculpted body that practically exuded strength and confidence. but it wasn’t just his physique; his face was just as alluring. full lips, a radiant smile that seemed to light up the room—it all worked together to make your heart skip a beat.

still, it was more than just his looks that drew you in. changbin’s kindness and patience stood out. he truly understood the challenges you faced, encouraging you every step of the way with unwavering support. and given your single status and lack of intimate company for months, he was the only person who had come to know your body as well as you did—albeit in a very different way.

but lately, things had begun to shift. each training session seemed to carry a weight that went beyond fitness. the tension between you had been growing steadily, layer by layer. subtle touches lingered a second too long. his warm, tender smiles felt more personal. and the compliments—sweet, sincere, and unexpectedly intimate—hung in the air like a charged whisper, leaving you wondering where this might lead.

you had just wrapped up a grueling workout and were now easing into your stretches with changbin by your side. today’s session had been particularly intense, focusing heavily on lifting, and you’d pushed yourself harder than ever. the ache in your muscles was proof of your effort, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. clearly, changbin was proud of you too.

“you did great today,” he praised, his voice warm and encouraging.

he knelt beside you, helping guide your leg toward your abdomen as you stretched. his touch was firm but careful, his movements precise, yet you could sense the restraint in him. his eyes flicked to your form briefly, but he quickly refocused, clearly trying to remain professional. it wasn’t easy, though, considering the snug spandex leggings that clung to every curve of your lower half and the sports bra that, while functional, accentuated your breasts, which were pressed against the fabric with every deep inhale you took.

“thanks,” you replied breathlessly, switching to your other leg. changbin shifted to adjust his position, his pelvis hovering just above your ass as you lay flat on the mat. the closeness of his body, combined with the strength in his arms as he pressed your leg toward your torso, sent a wave of heat surging through you.

it settled deep in your core, and you fought to push the feeling away. determined not to let your thoughts spiral, you turned your head and focused your gaze anywhere but on him, desperately trying to ignore the way his touch and attention was making you feel.

as changbin adjusted his position, his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary. his hands were warm and strong, holding your leg securely as he leaned in to guide your stretch. you could feel the tension in the air thickening, subtle but undeniable. the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the musk of your workout, making your senses hyperaware of his proximity.

“relax into it,” changbin murmured, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. his breath brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat coursing through you.

you exhaled slowly, trying to follow his instruction, but the pressure of his hands and the way his body was aligned with yours made it difficult to focus. as your muscles stretched and lengthened under his guidance, your thoughts began to wander to places they shouldn’t.

his hands moved slightly, adjusting the angle of your leg. the contact was innocent enough, yet it sent a spark straight to your core. his thumbs pressed gently into your thigh, massaging the tension there, and you couldn’t suppress the faint hum that escaped your lips.

“you okay?” he asked, his tone low and careful, though there was a hint of something else in it—a slight rasp that betrayed his own composure.

“y-yeah,” you managed to reply, your voice unsteady.

but changbin didn’t move away. instead, his gaze flickered down to you, his dark eyes studying your face. “you’re holding tension here,” he said, his hands sliding down slightly to work at the tight muscles in your hips. the motion was slow, deliberate, and his fingers pressed firmly yet gently, igniting a slow burn deep within you.

your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him. his face was so close now, his lips parted slightly as though he was about to say something more. but no words came. instead, the moment seemed to stretch endlessly between you, the space between your bodies almost nonexistent.

you could feel the heat radiating from him, the firmness of his hands, the way his body hovered just above yours. and then, as though caught in some invisible pull, your eyes locked. the air crackled with unspoken desire, and suddenly, all the restraint from earlier seemed to crumble.

changbin’s hands stilled against your body, and you felt his grip tighten slightly, as if grounding himself. his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he glanced away for a moment, exhaling deeply. “i-i don’t… we shouldn’t…” he began, his voice low and uneven, though it lacked conviction.

you reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm. “it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. you leaned up slightly, your body arching toward him, driven by a pull you could no longer resist. “i don’t mind, if you don’t.”

and in an instant, you two were in the back of the gym, messily making out inside the employee showers. you had the curtain covering you both as you kissed each other, as well as the water running so nobody could hear the sinful noises of you two claiming each other.

the water was cascading down both of your bodies, getting your workout attire drenched. changbin let out a moan as he pressed you against the tile wall, grinding his length against your thigh.

you eagerly tugged his shirt off, wanting to see more of him.

in the haze of passion, your hands trembled slightly as you pulled changbin’s drenched shirt over his head, tossing it onto the wet floor without a second thought. the sight of his bare torso under the dim, steamy light took your breath away—every muscle, every defined line glistening under the cascade of water.

your hands roamed his chest, fingers tracing his abdomen before sliding up to his broad shoulders. his skin was warm beneath your touch, and he shuddered as your nails lightly grazed him.

“god, you’re so beautiful,” you murmured, your voice breathy and full of awe.

changbin’s lips found yours again, this time more urgent, more fervent. his hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling your soaked body flush against his. you gasped into his mouth as the rough texture of the tile wall contrasted with the heat of his touch. his hips pressed into you, and the friction sent waves of pleasure coursing through your core.

he broke the kiss momentarily, his forehead resting against yours as his hands slid up, fingers brushing over the fabric of your sports bra. “are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice husky but tinged with care.

you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “i’ve never been more sure,” you whispered, pulling him back into a searing kiss.

his hands moved with purpose, tugging at the hem of your sports bra. you raised your arms, helping him remove it, and the cool air of the shower hit your exposed skin before the warmth of his hands replaced it. his palms cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened peaks, drawing a gasp from your lips.

the steam swirled around you both, cloaking the scene in a veil of intimacy as changbin’s lips left a trail of kisses down your neck and collarbone. the sound of water hitting the tiles mingled with your quiet moans and his deep groans, creating a symphony of passion that seemed to echo in the small space.

your fingers fumbled with the waistband of his shorts, eager to feel more of him. he let out a shaky breath as you pushed them down, your touch exploring the contours of his hips and thighs. you could see the outline of his thick, hard cock through his briefs, and your core ached so intensely you could feel a heartbeat between your legs.

the tension that had built between you for weeks was now unraveling, every kiss, every touch, bringing you closer to a point of no return.

changbin’s hands slid down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he pressed against you. his breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this.”

you smiled against his lips, your fingers threading through his damp hair. “then show me,” you whispered, and with that, he captured your mouth again, his fingers curling under your leggings and yanking them down as well as your panties without hesitation.

you blushed, feeling bare and exposed in front of him. it had been a long time since you had been bare before a man, and changbin could sense your anxiety. “you look fucking gorgeous,” he growled, yanking them off your legs fully before kneeling in front of you and lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. you responded with a tiny gasp, realizing what he was preparing to do. changbin's dark eyes locked with yours as he knelt before you, the water cascading over his sculpted frame. his hands slid up your thighs, strong yet gentle, as if reassuring you of how much he wanted this—wanted you. the heat of his breath contrasted with the cool tile against your back, and the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine.

“you don’t have to be nervous,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing but laced with hunger. “let me take care of you.”

before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. the sensation was electric, a mix of tenderness and desire that left you trembling. his lips moved slowly, trailing upward, each kiss stoking the fire coursing through your body.

when his mouth finally reached your core, your breath hitched. his tongue was warm and deliberate, exploring you with a confidence that left no doubt he knew exactly how to drive you wild. your hand flew to his hair, gripping the wet strands as your head fell back against the wall, a soft moan escaping your lips.

he moaned against your cunt, his tongue swirling and flicking over your sensitive flesh with relentless determination. the wet sounds of his mouth on your skin were just barely audible, driving you to new heights of pleasure. he savored every inch of you, the scent and taste that he had craved for so long.

a sharp cry escaped your lips as he wrapped his lips around your clit, suckling and lapping at it with fervent desire. his face was buried between your thighs, his breath hot against your skin as he devoured you without restraint. your body arched and quivered under his skilled touch, each wave of pleasure building higher and higher until it consumed you completely.

“bin…” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

he growled in response, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. his grip on your leg tightened as he pulled you closer, his mouth working you with an intensity that made your toes curl. the sensations were overwhelming, the combination of his touch, the warmth of the water, and the way his tongue moved against you unraveling you completely.

your free hand pressed against the tile, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use. the tension building in your core was too much, too fast. “oh my god,” you gasped, your voice breaking as his name tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

changbin glanced up at you briefly, his eyes smoldering with desire as he watched you come undone above him. his lips curved into a small, cocky smile before he doubled down, his tongue and lips moving with a precision that left you breathless.

your body arched involuntarily, the sensations overwhelming as the pleasure built to a crescendo. your grip on his hair tightened, and with one final, broken cry of his name, the tension snapped, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. your legs trembled, and the one leg you were using to keep yourself standing in the shower was barely holding you upright.

as you came down from the high, your chest heaved, and your legs trembled. changbin stood slowly, his hands steadying you as he cupped your face and kissed you deeply, letting you taste the passion you’d just shared.

“you taste so fucking good,” he whispered against your lips, his voice rough and breathless, as if he’d been just as affected by the moment as you were. you two made out again, lost in the shared taste of each other, until you broke it. “fuck me,” you panted, your voice soft and breathy.

“please, fuck me.”

changbin’s breath hitched at your words, his hands gripping your hips tighter as if grounding himself. he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with desire yet softened by a hint of hesitation. “you want it?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely audible over the water.

you nodded, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “please, changbin.”

something in him shifted, the tension and restraint he’d been holding onto dissolving. his lips captured yours again, this time with a hunger that left no room for doubt. his kiss was fervent, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed your body, every touch igniting a new wave of heat.

with a slow, deliberate motion, he freed his thick, pulsating cock from its confines. it was girthy and heavy, throbbing with an almost painful urgency that sent shivers down your spine. just looking at it made you nervous for what was to come, but also filled you with a primal desire you couldn't deny. the veins along its length were prominent and promising. you could feel the heat radiating off of it, making your own body flush with anticipation.

with a fluid motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the tiled wall. the water cascaded over both of you, amplifying the intensity of every sensation. you could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your core, and the anticipation made you gasp.

his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a heated path of kisses as his hands gripped your thighs to steady you. “you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice dripping with reverence and need.

“bin…” you whispered, your fingers threading through his wet hair, tugging lightly as your hips rolled against him, seeking more.

he groaned at the friction of his cock grinding between your slick lips, the sound deep and guttural, as he adjusted his position.

one hand slipped between you, and you shivered as his fingers teased your entrance, his touch deliberate and confident. “i need to feel you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

“then do it,” you urged, your voice trembling with need. “i’m yours.”

his gaze locked with yours for a fleeting moment, the intensity in his eyes sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. slowly, he entered you, the stretch and fullness drawing a gasp from your lips as your nails dug into his shoulders.

his thick length filled every inch of you as he pushed deeper and deeper. the weight of him pressed against your skin, the sensation almost overwhelming but also intoxicating. his fat cock stretched you to your limits, each movement sending electrifying sensations coursing through your body. you could feel every ridge and vein as he plunged into you, claiming you completely.

“fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust.“you feel incredible.” he moaned breathlessly, his brows knitted together as he fought the urge to cum right away.

“so do you,” you breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips before rolling your hips against him. the movement sent a shiver through him, and he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, building in intensity.

lost in the moment and completely overtaken by his desire, changbin's grip on your hips tightened as he began to lift you effortlessly, moving your body up and down on his cock with a strength that made you feel weightless. his motions were powerful and unrelenting, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body as if he was claiming every inch of you.

the sounds echoing in the steamy shower were shamelessly erotic—your bodies colliding with wet, rhythmic slaps, punctuated by the increasingly loud moans spilling from your lips. it was such a stark contrast to the tentative quiet you’d both maintained when you first slipped into the shower, and yet now, the tension between you had unraveled into something raw and untamed.

you couldn’t help but glance down at him, the sight alone making your head spin. the way his strong arms supported you, his muscles flexing with each movement, and the determined, almost primal look on his face as he drove into you—it was intoxicating. the intensity of it all made your walls flutter around him involuntarily, earning a deep groan from his lips that only fueled your desire further.

your back arched against the tiles, the sensation overwhelming as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

your body tensed as his cock repeatedly hit your g-spot with relentless force, causing a deep pit to form in your stomach and your clit to pulse uncontrollably. the pleasure was overwhelming, almost bordering on pain, but you couldn’t help but crave more of his intense thrusts. after a few more thrusts, you were trembling, your core fluttering with impending release.

“changbin… i’m so close,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the tension in your body built to its peak.

“me too,” he rasped, his lips brushing against yours as his movements grew faster, more erratic.

with one final thrust, the tension snapped, and you cried out his name as the pleasure consumed you, your body trembling in his arms. he followed moments later, his groan vibrating against your neck as he held you tightly, riding the waves of ecstasy together.

the water continued to cascade over you both as you clung to each other, your breaths mingling in the steamy air. changbin pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his voice warm and tender as he whispered, “i’ve waited so long for this,”

you smiled, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as you replied, “so have i.” and as the water continued to fall around you, you knew this was for sure the start of something between you two.

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek

©chansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Accidentally Roommates - Yunho

~"Best friend's brother with yunho × reader- where reader has intense crush on her besties brother. She's so flustered whenever around him but never dreams of making it obvious, it would be mortifying. Especially because she's insecure about her appearance and thinks he's way out of her league. You could say shes the nerdy type while hes the this popular, attractive athlete. Not cliche in any way, slow, gut wrenching build. I want just the right amount of angst especially because she sees him with other girls a lot. And then it dips into fluff and sweet smut. Plot twist he ends up living with them for a few months which complicates things and her feelings as she tries to avoid him and not make her crush obvious."

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

genre, 18+, college au

summary: your roommate ends up being no one but your absolutely handsome crush.. and this switch is caused by your bestie, which does you good in the end.

wc: 4.6k

warnings: college au, sweet smut, making love, slight bulge kink, slight size kink, a lot of kissing and making out, reader is kinda insecure about herself, athlete x need typa shit, protected (we cheer in unison), forced proximity, friends to lovers, sweet love, lots of praising, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: heyy sooo this came oit sweeter than expected wusjsujs but my reader wanted it to be sweet smut so I guess it works 🤞🏻 i've never been this gentle in my fics ngl 💀😂 but hey it's a fresh breath of air (an absolute menace and filthy fic with jongho coming next week stay tuned), i hope you like it ml! 💖💖💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way!

You knew moving into the dorms for your second year of university would be an adjustment. What you didn’t expect was walking into your new room, suitcase in hand, only to find Yunho standing there, shirtless, with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Your best friend’s brother.

Your secret crush since forever.

And, apparently, your new roommate.

“Oh, hey,” Yunho grinned, running a hand through his damp hair as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Took you long enough.”

You just stood there, staring, struggling to breathe, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of him in your shared space. “W-What are you doing here?” you finally managed to stammer.

Yunho cocked his head, amused. “You mean in my room?”

His room?

Your stomach dropped. There had to be a mistake.

But before you could process, your phone buzzed.

**[Bestie]: Okay, don’t freak out.

[Bestie]: Sooo... I *might* have switched rooms with you.

[Bestie]: I really wanted to live with Alex [her bf] aaaand Yunho didn’t care so—surprise… I guess?**

Surprise.

You wanted to scream.

Your best friend had traded you like a deck of playing cards, leaving you to share a room with her ridiculously hot, athletic, popular older brother—the same one who made your heart race every time he looked at you.

You could barely function around Yunho in casual group settings. How the hell were you supposed to live with him?

“Oh,” you mumbled, still gripping your phone, voice embarrassingly small. “I—uh. I didn’t know.”

Yunho just smiled, so effortlessly relaxed. “Yeah, I figured. She was too scared to tell you in person.”

Of course she was.

He nodded toward your suitcase. “Well, since you’re here, might as well unpack. I don’t bite.”

That was debatable.

Because being near Yunho always felt like standing too close to a flame.

And now, there was no escape.

—

Days turned into weeks, and you slowly fell into a routine. Yunho was surprisingly easy to live with—clean, respectful, easygoing.

But the problem wasn’t Yunho.

The problem was you.

Because you were hopelessly in love with him.

And every single day in this room was pure torture.

You’d sit at your desk, desperately pretending to study, while Yunho lounged on his bed, scrolling through his phone or tossing a baseball between his hands, his stupidly muscular forearms on full display.

Some nights, he’d come back from practice, sweaty and breathless, shaking his damp hair out before stripping off his hoodie like it was nothing.

Like he wasn’t ruining your life.

And then there were the girls.

Because, of course, girls flocked to Yunho.

And why wouldn’t they? He was tall, insanely attractive, the star athlete everyone adored.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t yours to be jealous over.

But it still stung.

Every time you overheard a flirtatious giggle over the phone. Every time you saw him talking to some gorgeous girl in the cafeteria. Every time he left the dorm late at night and came back with his hair messy, lips bitten.

You hated it.

You hated how much you cared.

And worst of all? Yunho noticed.

Yunho wasn’t stupid.

He noticed everything.

How your fingers tensed when he stood too close. How you bit your lip whenever he walked around shirtless after practice. How you refused to meet his gaze whenever another girl’s name popped up on his phone screen.

And Yunho, being Yunho, decided to have fun with it.

"You’re bad at hiding things, you know," he mused one evening, leaning lazily against your desk while you pretended to focus on your laptop.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard. “Hiding what?”

He tilted his head, grinning like he knew a secret.

“You tell me.”

You swallowed, refusing to take the bait. “Go away, Yunho.”

“Why?” he asked, all mock innocence. “Am I distracting you?”

Yes. Painfully.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

So, instead, you rolled your eyes, keeping your attention firmly on your screen. “I have an exam.”

“Right, right,” Yunho nodded, before casually hooking a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

Your breath hitched.

His eyes burned into yours,

amusement flickering beneath something darker.

“Then why do you always get so nervous when I’m near?” he murmured.

You opened your mouth—nothing came out.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?*

Yunho let out a low chuckle, thumb barely grazing your skin before he pulled away, pleased with himself.

“See?” he smirked, walking off like it was nothing.

Like he hadn’t just set your entire body on fire.

And that’s when you knew.

He wasn’t just teasing you.

He was waiting.

Waiting for you to finally break.

—

It started as a normal evening.

You sat at your desk, typing away, lost in your usual routine. Glasses perched on your nose, a silk blouse draped over your frame, tiny silk shorts barely covering your thighs. Hair tied in a messy bun.

You didn’t think much of it.

But Yunho did.

Because when you glanced up, you caught him staring.

Not his usual teasing glance.

A real, lingering, dark stare.

Something in his expression shifted.

“Yunho?” you asked cautiously.

He blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Huh?”

“You’re staring.”

His lips curled into something wicked.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, voice lower, rougher.

Your breath hitched.

“What?”

Yunho leaned forward, resting his hands on your desk, invading your space.

“You look good,” he said, tone slow, deliberate.

Your stomach flipped.

His eyes dragged over your frame, slowly, like he was committing every inch to memory.

“I—uh—” You swallowed hard, completely losing your train of thought.

Yunho exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

And then—he kissed you.

Not a hesitant, testing-the-waters kiss.

A deep, slow, searing kiss.

Like he’d been holding back for too damn long.

Your mind short-circuited. Your body froze before melting into him, his lips coaxing yours apart, the warmth of his hands branding your skin.

Every suppressed feeling, every stolen glance, every bottled-up longing between you—

It all unraveled at once.

And you were helpless to stop it.

The moment Yunho kissed you, the world seemed to tilt.

His lips crashed into yours, warm and desperate, like he had been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t stand it anymore. His hands found your waist first, fingers pressing into the silk of your blouse like he wanted to memorize the shape of you. Then, his palms roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left between your bodies.

You gasped.

He took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, gripping your bare thigh.

You shivered.

It was too much.

Too good.

Your heart pounded so violently it hurt. His scent—clean, warm, intoxicating—filled your senses, making your mind foggy as his lips moved against yours, slow but needy, like he was savoring every second.

Like he was starving for you.

But then—the doubt crept in.

Why you?

He could have any girl he wanted. He did have any girl he wanted.

And yet, here he was. With you.

It didn’t make sense.

What if this was just another conquest for him?

What if you were just another girl he’d grow bored of the next morning?

Panic surged through you, and suddenly, you were pulling away.

"Yunho, wait," you gasped, pushing against his chest.

He stilled instantly, panting, eyes dark and glazed over with something deep—but he let you go.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, voice hoarse.

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for what you were about to say.

“This—” You gestured between you two, still breathless. “I just… I don’t know if this is—if I’m—”

Yunho’s brows furrowed. "If you’re what?"

You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but his face.

"I don’t want to be just some girl to you."

Silence.

Yunho’s jaw tensed.

“You think that’s all you are?”

You let out a bitter chuckle, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Come on, Yunho. Look at me." You motioned to yourself—small, shy, nothing like the girls that usually clung to him. "And then look at you."

His lips parted slightly, as if in disbelief.

"You’re…" You hesitated, then sighed. "You’re too handsome. Too popular. Too out of my league."

A muscle in Yunho’s jaw ticked.

He hated that.

Hated that you thought so little of yourself.

Hated that you saw him as something unreachable, when all he had ever wanted was you.

"That’s bullshit." His voice was lower now, tinged with something raw, something that made your stomach twist.

Your breath caught when he stepped closer, his fingers brushing along your jaw, gentle but firm.

“You think I want just anyone?” he murmured. “You think I’d do this with just anyone?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

His thumb traced your cheek, eyes locked onto yours with something so deep, so intense that your knees almost gave out.

“You don’t even realize how fucking beautiful you are, do you?” His voice was soft, yet aching.

Your stomach flipped.

“Yunho—”

He cut you off, tilting your chin up, kissing you again.

And this time, you didn’t resist.

Because you believed him.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had wanted you all along.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Yunho’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. His eyes burned with something deep, something that made your chest feel too tight.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice was softer now, but still rough with restraint.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

"You think you’re out of my league?" He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "God, if only you knew."

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his touch delicate, reverent.

"I’ve spent so long trying to keep my distance," he admitted. "Telling myself you were off-limits. That I had no right to want you the way I do." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "But it didn’t matter. I still wanted you."

You blinked up at him, heart racing.

His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper.

"I still want you."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"You don’t even see yourself, do you?" Yunho’s fingers slid into your hair, cupping the back of your head. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Every damn time you look at me, I feel like I’m coming apart."

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck.

"Every guy on campus watches you, you know that?" His grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "But they don’t get to have you. They never will. Because I’m the one who’s going to have you."

Your breath hitched.

"I don’t want anyone else, sweetheart." His lips brushed against yours, not quite a kiss, but almost. "I only want you."

And this time, when he kissed you, you didn’t pull away.

Because how could you?

The kiss deepened, and this time, you met him with just as much eagerness, fingers threading through his hair as you pressed yourself closer, needing more. His lips molded to yours with a gentle hunger, the kind that made your heart race and your body tremble.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, and there was a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes were dark, filled with longing, and for the first time, you could feel it—how deeply he desired you.

"God," Yunho murmured, his voice hushed and thick with emotion. "You’re so beautiful… I can’t even begin to describe how much you’ve been driving me crazy." His hands moved to your waist, holding you close, eyes roving over your face, drinking you in.

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing softly over your skin, before he spoke again, voice low and sincere. "I…I want to make love to you," he said, his gaze searching for yours, his words carrying an intensity that made your breath catch. "But not just because of how you look… it’s because I want to show you how much I love everything about you. Your heart, your mind, your body…"

You felt your cheeks flush, heart beating wildly in your chest. Was he serious? Did he really want that with you?

Yunho smiled softly when he saw the nervousness in your eyes, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently, almost reverently. "I’ve loved your personality from the very first moment I met you," he continued, voice tinged with admiration and something deeper, more possessive. "But when I saw you tonight, with your glasses on, hair in that bun, and wearing that silk set… I swear I’ve never wanted anything more." He ran his thumb along your lip, his touch like fire. "You were so sexy, so… effortlessly beautiful. It’s been driving me wild, wondering if you even realized how incredible you are."

You swallowed hard, the mix of his words and touch leaving you dizzy, your shyness making you hesitant but the desire inside you growing stronger with every second. You knew how vulnerable you were right now, but with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t help but feel desirable in ways you never had before.

"Yes," you whispered shyly, voice barely audible but full of desire, a blush creeping across your cheeks. "I want you, Yunho."

His eyes softened, and a low, appreciative hum left him as he leaned in again, kissing you with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. When he pulled back, he slowly reached up and took the glasses off your face, his gaze lingering on you as though he were savoring every detail.

With a quiet, almost reverent smile, Yunho gently lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

He paused for a moment, forehead resting against yours as he breathed deeply. "You’re mine now," he whispered softly, his hands trailing down your back. "And I’m going to show you just how much I need you."

The soft smile on his lips was gentle but possessive, the way he held you close spoke volumes, and you melted against him, unable to resist. Yunho was everything you had imagined and more—strong, protective, tender—and now, he was yours.

Yunho’s patience had been tested enough. The second he closed the door behind him, he knew he was done. No more restraint. No more slow, teasing build-up. His control was shattered—he wanted you. Now.

He pulled you onto the bed with a swift motion, his hands grasping your waist and lifting you gently, his lips pressing against your neck, murmuring low praises. But as soon as he stood up, his gaze was unwavering as he looked at you, consuming you with his eyes.

You felt small, almost overwhelmed under his intense stare, the hunger in his eyes so palpable that it made your chest tighten. Yunho was towering over you, all power and confidence. His shirt was the first thing to go, discarded carelessly onto the floor as his muscular chest was revealed in the dim golden light of the bedroom.

You were breathless. His presence was intoxicating—his eyes never leaving yours as he took in your every detail. You felt so vulnerable, yet so incredibly desired. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you, almost like he was taking his time, savoring the moment before he finally spoke.

"Can I continue?" Yunho’s voice was a low, husky growl, the kind that made your legs weak and your pulse quicken.

"Y-Yes," you whispered, the simple word barely escaping your lips as you stared up at him, feeling smaller under his gaze.

His smile was feral. "I can’t hold back anymore."

With that, his hands moved with unrestrained urgency, undoing the buttons of your blouse. He pulled the fabric off you, exposing your smooth, glowing skin to him under the dim light. His eyes darkened as they traced every curve of your body, mesmerized by the sight of you.

You shivered at the intensity of his stare, feeling completely exposed in front of him. Yunho leaned down slightly, brushing his lips over your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re so fucking beautiful," he murmured, cursing under his breath as he took in the sight of you.

The silk blouse was discarded, leaving you in nothing but your delicate silk shorts. Yunho’s eyes locked on your lower half, and with a low growl, he removed the shorts, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled them off your legs, revealing your bare skin.

His gaze flicked back to your face, his breath hitching as he took in how vulnerable and perfect you looked, completely at his mercy. His chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took, fighting to maintain control, but it was clear he was already losing the battle.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "You’re killing me."

Yunho quickly discarded his pants, and as he stood there, you saw the bulge in his briefs, straining and growing more impatient by the second. You swallowed hard, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You knew what was coming, and the anticipation made your heart race.

He took a step closer, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in the bed, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "Hey," he said softly, his voice oddly tender despite the urgency in the air, "it’s okay. I’ll take care of you."

And you knew, deep down, that he meant it. Yunho was here to make you feel everything. And more. He wasn’t going to let you go until he had shown you just how much he wanted you.

He climbed over you in the bed and his lips trailed down your neck again, each kiss deliberate, deep, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands moved with purpose, exploring your skin with a tenderness that contrasted the desperate hunger in his touch. As he kissed you, his hands slid from your waist to your thighs, drawing slow circles that made you gasp softly.

The praise he had showered on you earlier filled your mind, emboldening you, making you feel seen, making you feel wanted. It was a new sensation, the weight of his words settling into your chest, making you feel lighter yet more grounded at the same time. Slowly, your hand moved from his hair to the smooth expanse of his back. The muscles beneath your fingers rippled with each shift he made, making your heart race.

His body felt so close, so perfect against yours, and with newfound boldness, your other hand drifted down, feeling the tautness of his abs as they contracted beneath your touch. Your fingers hovered near his waistband, just over the bulge that was still pressed tightly against the fabric of his briefs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and before you even realized it, your fingers brushed over his hard cock.

Yunho’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes darkening as he met your gaze. “Mh?” he murmured, curiosity and desire mixed in his voice.

You hesitated for only a moment, but the way he looked at you, with all that intensity, made you forget your doubts. You felt a momentary surge of confidence. Slowly, you moved your hand away and met his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest as you realized the effect you had on him.

Yunho chuckled softly, a knowing smile curving his lips as he looked down at the way your hand lingered. His fingers moved to your waistband, gently peeling your panties away, his touch reverent. His hands were steady, each movement laced with affection and desire.

Then, with equal care, you slid his briefs off, your breath catching as you glimpsed him fully for the first time. The sight made your pulse race, but his touch was always gentle, always considerate. He reached out, his hand brushing your hair away from your face, a soft smile on his lips as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

Every word felt like a balm to your soul, washing away any doubts, any insecurities. The connection between you both was undeniable, and the tenderness in his voice only made it feel deeper. Yunho leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours, eyes closing as he exhaled softly.

“I want to take care of you, to show you just how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with emotion.

You smiled softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you nodded, feeling his love surrounding you in ways words could never fully express. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, savoring the moment as if he never wanted it to end.

Yunho’s hands traced the curve of your hips, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body. His lips brushed against yours, soft and lingering, as if he were memorizing the feel of you. When he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender, “if you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

The word seemed to unravel something in him. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, and he pressed his forehead to yours again, his breath mingling with yours. He murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll always cherish you.”

With deliberate care, Yunho shifted and took a condom out of his private nightstand. Your eyes widened at the sight of the unopened box of condoms, making you think he'd gotten them just for you. His body aligned with yours right afger he slid it on. His hands guided you gently, his touch reverent as he positioned his cock right between your wet folds. The first brush of contact drew a soft, involuntary moan from your lips, the sound escaping like a secret you hadn’t meant to share. His eyes darkened at the sound, his gaze locking onto yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”

The air between you was electric, charged with a longing that had been building for what felt like an eternity. Yunho’s movements were deliberate, each touch designed to make you feel cherished, adored. He thrusted in slowly, his hands steady and reassuring, as if he were handling something infinitely precious.

Yunho’s movements began with a slow rhythm, each thrust measured and tender, as if he were savoring every second of this connection. His hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, before settling on your hips to guide you gently against him. Your own hands explored the expanse of his back, fingers skimming over the taut muscles that flexed with every movement. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His breath grew ragged, his voice roughening with each passing moment. “You feel… incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his words breaking into a low groan as he deepened the kiss. The sound of his voice, coarse and filled with need, sent a shiver through you, your body responding with a surge of warmth that made your breath catch.

Your whines escaped in soft, breathy gasps, rising from your chest as the pleasure built within you. Each thrust of his hips sent sparks coursing through your veins, the intensity of the moment overwhelming yet perfect. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he answered with a kiss, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your hips.

The rhythm between you grew more urgent, yet Yunho never lost that tenderness, his movements still filled with reverence. You could feel the tension coiling within you, your body trembling as you neared the edge. “Yunho,” you whispered shyly, your voice trembling, “I’m… I’m close.”

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he nodded. “Me too,” he admitted, his voice strained but gentle. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

His words were all the encouragement you needed. The pleasure crested, crashing over you in waves as your body shuddered beneath his. Your walls clenched around him, drawing a low, guttural curse from his lips. He stilled for a moment, his breath hitching as he fought to hold on, but the sensation was too much. With a final, shuddering thrust, he followed you over the edge, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and his cock deep down your cunt.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the shared rhythm of your breathing. Yunho’s hands gently caressed your back, his touch soothing as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice still rough but filled with warmth. “So amazing.”

Yunho stayed close, his body still draped over yours as his breathing slowly steadied. His hands moved gently, brushing strands of hair from your face before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice warm and tender, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his shoulder. “That was… perfect.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and content, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. His touch was soothing, his fingers trailing lightly up and down your back as he held you close. “You’re perfect,” he corrected, his voice filled with affection. “I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

You nestled into his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The world felt quiet, peaceful, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you in this moment. But then, the sharp buzz of your phone on the nightstand shattered the silence.

You groaned, reluctantly reaching for it. “Who could that be?” you muttered, squinting at the screen. It was a text from your best friend, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, what does she want now?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Your bestie?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Or whatever she is, she did the best thing by moving in with her boyfriend.”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Because now I finally get to show you how much I love you without any interruptions.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “And trust me, I plan on doing that a lot.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you set your phone back down. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, though the warmth in your chest betrayed how much his words meant to you.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’m yours.”

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against his chest once more. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was the man holding you, the love in his touch, and the promise of countless moments like this to come.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[mrsvante]

Stolen Orbit

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: alien au, yandere jk, dark horror, enemies to lovers,

summary: you were meant for eradication with the rest of your planet—erased without a trace, just another speck in the galaxy's endless purge. but jeongguk saw you. fragile, insignificant... human. and something his kind had long forgotten stirred in him. Instead of erasing your existence, he took you, stole you from extinction and made you his.

now you live in a celestial cage, adored and possessed by something not quite capable of love, but desperate to keep you. he doesn't understand your fear, your resistance, but he craves your surrender all the more because of it. and if it takes breaking you to make you his completely... he will.

warnings: slow burn, mass extermination, alien jungkook forced captivity/proximity, psychological manipulation, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, smut, ritualistic copulation

word count: 5,857

The Beginning

The sky split open the night they came. You didn’t see it at first, no one did.

You brushed your teeth that night. Standing in your tiny bathroom beneath flickering fluorescent lights, humming faintly to music you can’t remember anymore. A song that cut out mid chorus when everything else did.

You paused, frowned, the mirror vibrated faintly, a shiver running across your reflection. Confused, you flicked the light switch. Nothing.

Reach for your phone. Dead.

Outside, the city dimmed as though someone had thrown a heavy blanket over the world. Buildings blinked out, window by window. Cars stalled silently in the streets.

Then came the sirens. Low and unearthly, vibrating deep in your chest rather than ringing in your ears.

You pressed your palms to the vanity, trying to pinpoint the source.

No alarms.

No helicopters.

No dogs barking or people yelling in the distance.

Just… stillness.

Until the sky broke.

You saw it from your window, face pale in the glass as blackness carved itself across the heavens like a wound tearing through flesh.

It didn’t glow or rage, it hummed.

And through that terrible void came beams of sterile white light.

You watched—paralyzed—as they swept through the streets, swallowing people whole. No fire, no blood, they simply ceased.

Your neighbor clutching her husband on the balcony. The delivery boy halfway up the stairs. A child pedaling frantically on his bicycle.

Gone.

Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. By the time your legs remembered how to function, chaos had bloomed outside.

Screams.

Desperate, useless prayers. People running without knowing where safety even existed.

It didn’t matter.

Your chest crushed inward as panic overtook you. You grabbed your phone, screaming into dead silence, dialing numbers that wouldn’t connect.

Your father’s voicemail.

Your sister’s disconnected line.

The beams moved without emotion, erasing everything they touched as easily as wiping chalk from a board. You don’t remember deciding to run. You don’t remember leaving your apartment. You only remember the maintenance tunnels.

You shoved yourself beneath concrete and metal, nails splitting and bleeding as you slammed the hatch shut above you.

And there you stayed.

For minutes.

Hours.

Days.

Time broke.

The silence that followed was not peaceful.

It was dead.

::::::::::::

When you woke, it was worse. Not because you survived. Not even because the world was gone.

But because you weren’t there anymore.

Your eyes opened to sterility. Smooth, seamless walls of faintly glowing white, like pearl carved from bone. No corners or seams. Just endless smoothness in every direction, as though the room itself were grown rather than built.

There were no windows.

No doors.

Only a faint humming, familiar and yet not. Not the gentle whir of an AC or the buzz of old light bulbs. This was deeper, vibrating at a frequency that scraped against the base of your skull. It sounded like something alive.

You sat up too fast, your breath catching painfully in your throat.

The bed beneath you was impossibly soft, molding to your shape like memory foam, but it didn’t feel right. It smelled faintly of something sweet and sterile, like a flower that had never known dirt.

You clutched the sheets tighter to your chest, your head spinning.

“Hello?” you rasped. No answer, just the never ending hum.

You tried again.

“HELLO?”

Your voice echoed strangely, rebounding without substance, as though the room itself were swallowing the sound.

A prickling sensation raced down your spine as you scrambled to your feet. Your legs were weak and shaky, like you hadn’t used them in days. You stumbled toward the nearest wall and pressed your palms flat against it.

It was warm.

Not cold like metal. Not smooth like glass.

Warm, as though the structure around you was some kind of living skin.

You recoiled instinctively.

“What the fuck,” you whispered.

Your chest heaved as you tried to remember.

Where were you?

Where was your family?

Had you died?

The last thing you remembered was hiding. Listening to the world end. And then— nothing. Your stomach twisted violently. Panic set in like lead poisoning, slow but lethal. You began slamming your fists against the wall.

“LET ME OUT!”

“WHERE AM I?!”

Nothing. No doors appeared, no voices responded. But the hum grew louder, though, it didn’t feel or sound angry. Not mechanical.

It sounded oddly interested.

You froze, pressing your back against the bed as a low chime resonated throughout the space. The wall directly across from you rippled, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a stone, and opened.

A doorway formed from nothing, and something stepped through.

At first, you thought he was wrong. Everything about him felt off in ways your mind couldn’t fully process.

Tall—towering—with limbs too graceful and too fluid to be comforting.

Skin pale and luminous, glowing softly from within, threaded with faint iridescence that shifted as he moved. Hair dark and weightless, littered with braids adorned with glimmering otherworldly metals, drifting as though underwater. Framing features too symmetrical, too perfect.

And his eyes.

They were unsettling, solid black at first glance.

But as he drew closer, they shifted—illuminated galaxies of silver, violet, and deep cosmic blues, swirling softly in patterns that hurt to stare at for too long.

You stumbled backward, your legs colliding with the bed as your pulse thundered.

He did not flinch, but instead stepped closer.

Graceful. Effortless.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Every primitive instinct screamed at you to run, but your body betrayed you. He tilted his head as he regarded you.

Not cruelly, not kindly. Curiously.

His voice slid across your mind rather than your ears.

“You are… fragile.”

You flinched, shaking your head as if a bug was caught in your hair. The words felt invasive, sliding into your consciousness without permission.

He stepped closer.

“I am Jeongguk.”

The name thrums with alien cadence, yet tastes almost familiar in your mind. His glowing eyes flicker faintly, as if pleased by your terror.

“You reside aboard Virexum,” he continues calmly. “This vessel collects and preserves what remains after eradication.”

“Eradication?” you whisper, voice hollow.

“Earth was terminated.”

A pause, as if considering how much you can process. “Your species had reached decay. Pollution. War. Rot. The Kaereth do not preserve weakness. We cleanse.”

The words hit harder than any weapon. You shake your head violently, sobbing openly now.

Your father, your sister. They’re…gone?

“No. No, you can’t— you didn’t—”

“It was mercy.”

His voice softens slightly, but not kindly. “Existence without evolution is entropy. The Kaereth do not allow suffering. We end it.”

You can’t breathe.

You drop to your knees, pressing your palms to your face as the horror swells and breaks inside you.

But he does not.

Tears flooded your vision, hot and blinding as your sobs shattered the sterile silence, ugly and helpless.

He watches you the way one might watch a dying star—quietly admiring, deeply fascinated.

When you finally stilled, he crouched before you, his claws retracting as he reached out. You recoiled instinctively, but he only touched your hair, brushing it back from your damp face with a tenderness that felt foreign.

“I did not erase you,” he murmurs.

You flinch, but his hand cradles your face delicately, tipping it up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You glowed,” he says, softer now. Almost enthralled.

“Amidst destruction, you clung to life. You burned brighter than the dying world around you. You will not suffer,” he said quietly. “You are mine now. You will be kept.”

Kept.

The word echoed as he stood again, gesturing to the room around you. “This is yours. Safe. Nourishing. You will adjust.”

You choked on disbelief.

“Why me?”

He paused.

And for the first time since he arrived, his expression shifted. His eyes darkened. His lips parted just slightly, almost pious.

“Because,” he murmured, as though speaking to himself, “you glowed brightest before death.”

With that, he turned and left, the wall sealing behind him in silence.

Leaving you alone with the hum, and the terrible, hollow truth that you were the last of your kind. And you were his now.

Whatever that meant.

Whatever that would become.

::::::::::::

You don’t remember sleeping, but when your eyes open again, raw and heavy from hours of silent sobbing, the room is dimmer. The walls, once glowing faintly like a moonlit sea, have softened to a deep, low shimmer, as though mimicking the concept of nighttime.

You’re still here.

Still locked in this dreamless nightmare of seamless walls and soundless air.

Still wearing the thin, pale shift you woke up in, neither warm nor cold, but irritating in its neutrality.

Still alone.

Except… you aren’t.

You feel him before you see him. The hum of the room changes. Deepens, sharpens as though the ship itself reacts to his presence.

You sit up slowly, wiping your face, throat dry from hours of ragged breathing.

When the wall ripples open again, it’s almost gentle. Less like a command, and more like the way curtains are drawn back to allow moonlight in.

And there he stands.

Jeongguk.

Alien. Impossibly elegant.

Unfathomably tall, framed in the soft glow as though carved from the bones of dying stars.

You freeze when his eyes meet yours, not because they’re cruel. But because they are intent.

Hungry.

Unblinking.

“You are awake.”

His voice slides across your mind again, as smooth as silk and as cold as space.

You swallow tightly, sitting rigid on the edge of the bed. Your legs are weak, but you fight to keep your spine straight.

“Please,” you whisper hoarsely, the word tasting hollow in your mouth. “Please just tell me what you want from me.”

He pauses.

“I have told you,” he says, moving forward, soundless as shadow. “You are mine. You will be kept. That is what I want.”

His words make your stomach twist violently. You push up from the bed, backing away until your shoulder blades press into the wall behind you.

“You can’t just— keep me!”

Your voice cracks, teetering between hysteria and disbelief.

“I’m not some… some thing you can collect!”

He stops mid step, considering.

His expression doesn’t change and yet, you can feel the weight of his scrutiny press down on you.

“Incorrect,” he says softly, as though correcting a child. “You are precious. Not a ‘thing’. Not to me.”

You open your mouth to argue, to scream, but your breath catches as something changes.

The bioluminescent lines across his body shift subtly. They pulse gently.

You don’t know why, but the sight makes your heart stutter.

Is that emotion?

Before you can question it, he raises one hand.

A low chime echoes through the room, and from the far wall, a smooth panel unfolds. It reveals a strange, device that emits fragrant steam.

Your stomach clenches painfully as your senses recognize what it is before your mind does.

Food.

Or, at least, something meant to replicate it. Soft, pale orbs float in an iridescent broth, giving off a smell not unlike fresh bread and honey.

It should be comforting.

But in this place, nothing feels comforting.

“You have not consumed nourishment in sixteen of your planet’s hours,” Jeongguk says calmly, gesturing toward the offering.

“Your body weakens. This is inefficient.”

You hesitate, eyeing the bowl warily.

“I’m not hungry,” you lie.

His head tilts, faintly reptilian in the gesture, and for the first time, a flicker of something sharper edges into his tone.

“You will eat.”

The words are not barked.

Not threatening.

But absolute.

You stare back at him, shaking slightly.

And when you make no move to comply, he steps forward and takes the bowl himself, walking closer until he is far too near. He crouches, folding gracefully in front of you like a predator settling in for the kill.

But instead of violence, he offers you the bowl directly.

Holding it out, waiting patiently.

“Eat,” he murmurs.

His eyes glow faintly as they fix on your face.

“For me.”

Your lips part helplessly. Something in the way he says it. Quiet, almost intimately, sends your skin crawling and burning at once.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You hate him.

And yet…

Your body obeys. Your fingers tremble as you accept the bowl, lifting one of the pale orbs to your lips.

It tastes… nothing like food.

But it dissolves softly on your tongue, leaving behind warmth that creeps slowly down your throat.

Not unpleasant, not pleasurable. Just… filling.

Sustaining.

You eat in silence, aware of his unwavering gaze as you do. When the bowl empties, he takes it back carefully, setting it aside.

“Better,” he says quietly.

You can’t meet his eyes.

The tears come again without permission, sliding hot and heavy down your face. You curl in on yourself, trying to muffle the broken sounds that escape your throat.

And then… a touch.

Featherlight at first, fingers ghosting against your temple, sliding into your hair.

You tense, but he does not press.

“You fear me.” His words are not questioning. “Good. It is natural. You are fragile.”

Your breath hitches painfully.

His hand slips lower, knuckles grazing your cheek with maddening delicacy.

“But fear will fade,” he continues softly. “In time, you will see. I am not cruel. I am constant. You will not be harmed. You will be… cherished.”

You turn your head away sharply and his fingers slip free, but you feel the weight of his focus intensify.

“You misunderstand your position,” he murmurs. “Earth is gone. You are alone in a universe that has no place for you. No one will come for you. No one can.”

You clench your fists tightly in your lap, the truth cutting deeper than his touch ever could.

“Why me?” you ask, voice breaking. “Why not let me die with the rest?”

He leans in slightly, his presence invading your every sense.

“Because when others knelt and wept… you raged,” he whispers. “You burned. You clung to life with ferocity. That is rare.”

His eyes soften, if such a thing is possible for something so alien.

“I collect what should not exist.” A faint smile, too serene, too knowing. “You are an anomaly. You are mine.”

You bite down hard on your lower lip, forcing back another sob.

“This isn’t cherishing,” you whisper bitterly.

“This is prison.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he rises slowly, towering over you once more. His hands fold neatly behind his back. The perfect image of composed, regal authority.

“No,” he agrees softly. “This is preservation.”

He steps back toward the door, but his voice reaches you again as it ripples open to accept him.

“Rest. I will return when you are calmer.”

A pause.

“And eventually… you will thank me.”

Then he is gone.

And you’re eft in the silence once more—but not alone.

Not really.

Because his scent still lingers. His voice still hums faintly in your mind. And worse, you realize part of you is already listening for his return.

::::::::::::

You don’t see him again for three cycles. You don’t know how you know this. There’s no sun here, no night and day, no ticking clock on sterile walls—but your body remembers.

It remembers the ache of hunger.

The slow unraveling of sanity when left in isolation. The bone deep dread that blooms in the absence of any other voice but your own.

For seventy two hours, maybe more, maybe less, you are alone.

The ship hums softly at all hours, the walls glowing faintly like a slumbering beast. Your room, if you can even call it that, remains locked.

No doors.

No windows.

Just blank, seamless walls and a bed that conforms to your every restless shift.

Food appears twice, delivered silently through a hidden panel in the wall, but you ignore it. You sit curled on the bed, stomach clenching painfully, but you refuse to give in.

Not again, not after last time.

He’d fed you like a child.

Watched you with something sickly tender in his eyes while you cried and ate and fell apart in front of him.

No.

You will not make this easy for him. Your anger is all you have left. The only shield between you and the quiet, desperate terror that creeps in when you allow yourself to feel anything else.

So you don’t eat.

You don’t sleep.

You don’t talk to the empty room, no matter how loud the silence becomes.

You wait.

Because you know he’ll come back, of course he will.

Men like him, things like him, always come back.

And when he does, you are ready.

—

He appears on the fourth cycle.

Not like before, there’s no grand entrance. No rippling doors or ominous hums.

You wake to find him already there, standing at the foot of the bed like a phantom who has always belonged in your nightmares. He watches you in silence, arms folded behind his back, eyes glowing softly in the low light.

You glare at him, lips cracked from dehydration.

He says nothing.

“Fuck you.”

Your voice scrapes like gravel against your raw throat, but it feels good to say.

Good to bite, even if your teeth barely graze.

His head tilts slightly, that same alien gesture that makes your stomach turn.

“You are weakening,” he observes softly, almost clinically. “Your refusal to consume nourishment endangers your cellular structure. This is illogical.”

You laugh, sharp and brittle.

“Good. Let me die, then.”

For the first time, his expression shifts, not dramatically, but his brows knit slightly, his mouth drawing in the faintest sliver.

He doesn’t like that.

“Negative,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “I will not allow termination.”

You push yourself up on shaking arms, baring your teeth in something that feels more animal than human.

“I don’t belong to you. You can’t keep me like this. Feeding me, locking me in this—this cage! I’ll starve before I let you win.”

His eyes narrow faintly, glowing brighter. “You misunderstand,” he murmurs, his voice lowering dangerously.

“This is not a contest,” he moves closer, slow, deliberate steps that make your pulse spike and your limbs tremble. “This is inevitability.”

You scramble off the bed, stumbling backward until your spine hits the wall. His presence consumes the room, filling every atom of available space, as though the ship itself responds to his shifting mood.

He stands before you now, towering and still.

“You may resist,” he allows softly. “You may cry, scream, refuse… for a time.”

His hand rises, not threatening, but steady as his fingers gently, maddeningly, brush your jaw. The touch sends a bolt of revulsion and something more complicated spiraling through you.

“But you will acclimate.”

His voice vibrates softly in your bones, dangerous in its certainty.

You slap his hand away, the sound cracking through the air like gunfire.

For a moment, nothing happens.

He simply stares at you, the tips of his fingers still poised where they had been, motionless, as though stunned.

And then…he withdraws, silently. Without anger or words. Simply steps back, gaze unreadable, and turns for the door.

Panic flashes hot and instant through your chest. “No—” you gasp, confused by your own terror at his sudden departure.

He stops just before the wall seals behind him. For the first time, his voice emerges aloud, not through your mind, but spoken.

Low.

Flat.

Cold.

“You have chosen isolation.”

Then he’s gone, and so is everything else.

The hum of the ship fades, the lights dim to near darkness. The temperature drops, not enough to freeze, but enough to chill your skin, to make your breath puff faintly in the air.

The bed retracts into the wall.

The food panel vanishes.

You are left standing in nothing.

Cold.

Alone.

—

For hours—maybe days—you are abandoned to the hollow, oppressive silence.

Your tears dry.

Your voice fades from hoarseness to nothing. Your legs give out, and you curl on the hard floor, clutching yourself tightly as sleep eludes you in the endless dark.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You hate him.

But when the wall finally ripples open again, soft, warm light spilling through and his tall, silent figure appears in the doorway once more, you sob.

Relief.

Humiliation.

Rage.

You don’t understand which emotion is which anymore.

He crosses the threshold slowly, eyes glowing faintly in gentle shades of blue and pink. Soft, careful, like a predator soothing prey after the kill.

Without speaking, he kneels before you, gathering your shaking body into his arms. You don’t fight him this time.

You can’t.

You’re too cold.

Too broken.

His hand strokes your hair as he murmurs something low in his language, soft syllables that sound like lullabies from a galaxy you will never see.

“I will not harm you,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your temple. “Do not make me hurt you through absence again; I ache.”

Your fingers clutch his robe weakly, sobs muffled against his chest.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but it’s empty.

Weak.

He hums softly.

“I know.”

He pulls you closer, cradling you as though you are delicate and rare, because to him, you are.

“And yet you need me.”

You can’t argue.

Not right now.

Not when his warmth is the only thing that feels real in this endless void of stars and silence.

::::::::::::

You don’t sleep, even when your body begs you to.

Sleep would mean trusting the silence, surrendering.

So you lay awake on the strange, pliant surface that the ship has provided. Not quite a bed, but softer than the floor that left your bones aching and cold during your punishment.

You are still recovering from that.

The ache of isolation.

The terror of being truly, utterly alone.

But more than that… you are recovering from the humiliation.

Because when he returned, when he found you curled and trembling, teeth chattering and face raw from tears, you clung to him.

You didn’t mean to.

Your body simply reacted, desperate and starved for anything warm and familiar.

Your fingers twisted into the dark folds of his robes, your face pressed into the cool planes of his chest, and you wept like a creature broken open.

And Jeongguk did nothing but hold you.

No words.

No threats.

No cruel satisfaction.

Just stillness.

Just presence.

His hands stroked your back, slow and repetitive, the way you imagine one might soothe a terrified animal.

His head bent low, his breath ghosting against your temple as he whispered words in a language your mind couldn’t translate, soft and melodic, making you feel drunk with the weight of them.

Even now, hours later, his scent still lingers on your skin.

Warm and metallic.

Alien and oddly sweet.

Like lightning woven into silk.

You hate that you find comfort in it now. You hate yourself more than you hate him, but the truth is suffocating in its simplicity.

You needed him.

And he knew it.

—

The door ripples again, seamlessly and without warning. You stiffen instinctively, heart leaping to your throat.

But when Jeongguk steps through, he does not bring the same oppressive energy he had before.

There is no towering, silent menace, or sharp glint of irritation or frustration in his starlit eyes.

Instead…he looks calm, serene, even.

His robes have changed. Still dark, but lighter now. Softer. He wears no armor, or sharp adornments. His hair hangs loose, gleaming faintly in the ship’s low bioluminescence.

He looks… domestic.

If such a word could ever apply to him.

The ship itself seems to respond, the walls brightening subtly, soft, ambient pulses that make the air feel warmer somehow.

More intimate.

Less clinical.

It unnerves you more than his previous coldness.

“Good,” he says quietly, his voice sliding into your consciousness with practiced ease. “You remain.”

You glare at him, but your body betrays you again, relaxing minutely at the familiar cadence of his presence.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?” you mutter bitterly.

Jeongguk tilts his head slightly, considering.

“No,” he agrees softly. “But you remained nonetheless.”

The phrasing makes something twist painfully low in your stomach. Before you can respond, he approaches, slow, careful steps as though approaching something fragile.

Which, in his eyes, you suppose you are.

He lowers himself gracefully beside you on the bed like surface, close enough that you feel the subtle hum of his energy brushing against your skin.

“I have observed,” he begins, tone thoughtful. “Prolonged isolation causes distress beyond simple physical discomfort in your species.”

You scoff, wrapping your arms around your knees protectively.

“Yeah. That’s called being human.”

He hums softly, as though filing the information away like a precious resource.

“I have no desire to harm you, little star,” he murmurs, and his hand lifts, pausing in the air between you, as if seeking silent permission.

You don’t give it.

But you don’t pull away when his fingers brush lightly across your hair, tucking it back from your face.

His touch is careful.

Maddening.

“I desire only your peace.”

You choke on a bitter laugh.

“Peace? You abducted me, destroyed my planet, locked me in this ship and act like that’s kindness.”

His expression softens, strangely fond despite your venom.

“You misunderstand,” he says gently.

“I did not destroy your planet. I spared you from its fate.”

His fingers trail down, brushing against the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, and you shiver despite yourself.

“You were meant to end,” he continues softly, voice almost hypnotic. “But you burned. You raged. You survived.”

His thumb strokes softly against your lower lip, a touch so tender you forget, briefly, how much you despise him.

“You are rare,” he murmurs. “And rare things are not discarded. They are treasured.”

The words settle in your chest like poison wrapped in silk. You should recoil, should slap his hand away, curse him until your throat gives out.

But instead…you close your eyes.

Just for a moment.

Just long enough to feel the soft press of his palm against your cheek, anchoring you in this strange, terrible reality.

He takes your silence as permission.

Of course he does.

“Good,” he breathes, satisfaction humming softly in his voice. “You are learning.”

You force your eyes open, glaring weakly at him.

“Learning what?”

His lips curl faintly, not quite a smile, but something disturbingly close.

“To accept.”

You hate him.

You hate him.

But when he shifts closer, pressing his body flush to yours, wrapping an arm carefully around your shoulders, you don’t pull away.

You are cold.

You are tired.

You are alone.

And he is warm.

He is steady.

He is here.

You rest your head against his shoulder before you can think better of it, disgust warring with relief in your chest.

Jungkook says nothing, but the ship hums softly around you, glowing faintly in shades of rose and gold. Contentment radiating from every surface.

You don’t realize how tightly you’ve curled against him until his mouth brushes the crown of your head.

“You will see soon,” he murmurs, words sinking deep into your bones. “I am not your enemy. I am your only constant.”

You fall asleep before you can argue. And for the first time since Earth fell, you sleep through the cycle without waking to scream.

::::::::::::

You wake to warmth.

Not the clinical, neutral temperature of the ship. That engineered comfort that feels more like a lack of discomfort than real heat but true warmth.

Soft.

Heavy.

Alive.

For a moment, your mind refuses to grasp why.

You are tucked beneath something impossibly smooth and weighty , fabric like liquid silk draped over your body, cocooning you in decadent softness.

And behind you, against the curve of your spine, something solid.

Firm.

Breathing.

A heartbeat thrums, steady and deep, so close it vibrates through your back and into your bones.

Not the ship.

Him.

Jeongguk.

You go rigid before you can think. Your hands clench the sheets, alien and faintly iridescent m, as you strain to control your breathing.

You are being held, no, you are being kept.

His arm is heavy across your waist, claws retracted but still unsettling, his fingers resting just beneath your ribcage with terrifying intimacy. His face is pressed lightly to the crown of your head, long hair brushing against your temple like ghost silk.

For several agonizing seconds, you debate your options.

Pull away.

Wake him.

Escape—if that’s even possible anymore.

But as your heart hammers and your stomach twists, you realize something worse.

You don’t want to move.

Because for the first time in what feels like forever, you are not cold, you are not alone, or terrified of what silence might bring.

You are simply… held.

And that, somehow, feels more dangerous than anything he’s done so far.

He stirs before you can make a decision.

The shift is subtle, the faint tightening of his grip, the softening of his breath, the way the ship’s hum lifts faintly, mirroring the change in atmosphere.

Then his voice slides into your mind, quieter than usual.

Thicker.

“You are awake.”

You flinch slightly, but he does not move away. Instead, he exhales slowly, the sound almost… content.

“You slept well,” he murmurs aloud this time, his voice low and textured, as though speaking in words costs him more effort than using your mind.

“You did not cry.”

Shame burns through you instantly. You twist beneath his arm, trying to put space between your bodies, but his hold tightens slightly.

“No,” he says softly, head dipping lower so that his breath brushes the shell of your ear. “Stay.”

Your heart races painfully.

“Why?” you whisper, hating the smallness in your voice.

His answer is simple.

“Because you do not truly wish to leave.”

You freeze.

He doesn’t say it cruelly.

He doesn’t taunt or mock.

He speaks it as though it is a fact he has long since accepted and is merely waiting for you to do the same.

Before you can respond, he shifts, drawing back just enough to allow you to turn and face him. The sight steals the words from your throat.

Up close, he is devastating.

More than alien.

More than beautiful.

His features are carved from something you do not have words for, too elegant to be called soft, too precise to be human. His silver violet eyes glow faintly in the dimness, framed by dark lashes that cast delicate shadows across high cheekbones.

But it is the way he looks at you that truly leaves you breathless.

Not with desire.

Not with hunger.

With… possession. As though you are the first and only star in his universe.

You turn your face away, pulse hammering.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

He does not obey.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m—”

You falter, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“Yours,” you finish bitterly.

His hand moves, fingers brushing your jaw, guiding you gently to meet his gaze again.

“You are mine,” he murmurs softly, as though stating something as mundane as the time of day. “You remain only because I desire it. You live because I allow it. You breathe because I have given you this sanctuary.”

The words are cruel in logic, yet his voice is gentle.

You tremble beneath the weight of them, but he only continues, thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone.

“But you do not need to fear that.” He leans closer, voice dropping lower, coaxing you like one would soothe a frightened animal.

“You do not need to fight so hard. You are cared for. Sheltered. Treasured.”

You want to scream. Want to tell him how wrong he is, how suffocating this is.

But your body remembers the days alone in the dark.

The cold.

The ache.

The crushing silence that left you frantic and desperate for any presence at all. And your body, traitorous and desperate, does not want to return to that.

So instead, you say nothing.

You simply let him hold you.

Let his touch stroke soothing patterns against your spine.

Let your eyes slip closed, not because you want him, but because for now… he feels safe.

—

The days that follow blur together.

Jeongguk becomes a near constant presence, no longer leaving for long stretches. He is always near. Quietly watching, quietly touching, quietly existing in every corner of your small world.

Meals are no longer delivered in silence.

Now, he brings them himself, sitting beside you as you eat, observing your reactions with soft fascination, as though memorizing every flicker of expression.

He asks questions, though never demands answers.

“Why do you frown when eating this?”

“Does this flavor please you more?”

“Do you enjoy these colors?”

It’s strange. Stranger still when you find yourself answering.

Not out of obligation or out of fear. But because the emptiness left by silence is worse.

You talk quietly, giving short answers at first, but over time, they grow longer. You explain foods you miss. You describe music, books, seasons. You speak of snow and rain and laughter, and though he listens with alien detachment, he seems oddly enchanted by your words.

“You will show me,” he says one cycle, after you describe autumn leaves falling in lazy spirals.

You blink at him in confusion.

“Earth is gone.”

His head tilts.

“Virexum can make what you desire.”

You do not know whether to be horrified or grateful. But when the next cycle arrives, your room transforms.The walls ripple and shift until soft amber light filters through projected trees.

Illusions of wind rustle leaves that glow faintly gold and crimson.

You laugh, startled and disbelieving.

And Jeongguk…

He smiles.

Not wide.

Not human.

But soft, and faintly victorious.

As though every small inch you offer him, every smile, every word, every sigh, is another chain wound tightly around your wrists.

—

It happens one night as you sit side by side on the bed, eating quietly. Your hands brush when reaching for the same dish and you both freeze.

The contact is brief.

Innocent.

But it lingers. His fingers slide softly over yours, slow and intentional as though mapping the shape of them.

You don’t pull away, pulse racing, your cheeks flush, but still, you let it happen.

Something shifts in his gaze.

It’s not hunger, not cruelty…longing.

The moment stretches and the ship grows impossibly quiet, as though the walls themselves are holding their breath. You’re the one who breaks it, pulling your hand away with a nervous laugh that sounds too loud in the stillness.

Jeongguk says nothing.

But his eyes follow you all the same, glowing softly in the dim amber light.

Watching.

Always watching.

—

That night, as you lay down and let him pull you close, his arms wrapping securely around your body as though sealing you in, you don’t resist.

You let him tuck your head beneath his chin, your hands curl lightly against his chest.

And when he whispers against your hair, voice low and factual, “you are becoming mine.”

You don’t argue.

Because deep down, beneath the remnants of your rage and sorrow, beneath the tangled mess of shame and longing—

You know he is right.

two | masterlist

[thewandererh]

what if why we didn’t see the doctor’s primary black-cloaked vessel ingame is because it’s his last resort? what if it’s where his heart is stored? or even where all the last copies of all his vital organs are kept safe?

an active consciousness can still stem from a backup of his brain, which his primary vessel holds. so, after his physical brain goes belly up (literally😭) the network of transmitting consciousness to each of his bots is still active. just transferred to a weaker method.

following the “murder” of dr harley sawyer in chapter 4, perhaps he scrambles back to this old vessel whereever it is. maybe it’s been neglected, a plan B dangerously collecting dust, or it’s sitting pristine in a sterile room on life support. nevertheless, harley finds himself in it after croaking his “last words” mid-transfer, and struggles to breathe. he forgot about this vessel. he’d cast it aside because it held the scars of his initial transfer into machine and the containment that followed. it was his first body. and it was so weak. but now it is his last chance.

however, he’s not properly adjusted to the whole having organs thing, and this vessel needs to be properly taken care of. so with bated breath and the struggle of calming his mind, he summons one of his metal corpses from his brain’s tomb. it takes a few agonizing minutes as it arrives to wherever he is, but eventually it’s close enough that he can actively switch bodies with it. consciousness transferral relies on proximity (this is why we only see the bots around his brain ingame).

revived and disoriented, the doctor must now look after himself. the fact of being reduced to this husk eats away at every atom of his being, but he’s simply too weak. he failed. he failed and he’ll be killed for it. but he’s not afraid.

when the splitting headaches cease and he gets used to being alive he can kill something again.

soon, but not yet.

4/19/25 edit : THIS AU NOW HAS A SIDEBLOG! https://www.tumblr.com/screws-of-sawyer headcanons, fics, art!!

…

…

info ramble & sillies under cut!

au idea, ayo?? early titles are ‘mechanized-mind’ or ‘inside-the-mind-of-harley’ or even ‘dry-bones’ but i’m still brainstorming X]. i love putting my characters through emotional agony <33 but this time it’s an au of an existing character i have to analyze to get right so that’ll be fun. now for the drawing, i really like both medical concepts and making stuff up so maybe only some of the function would actually work, but i do not care. the idea was that harley’s primary vessel had a more meshy, detachable plate in his chest to give room for his heart and probably-disproportionately-sized lungs. here that plate is removed in order to help his heart beat. tons of other tubes are wired into his ventilation vents to keep him running to. my running idea for why the sarley hawyer (clone bot, aka secondary vessel) here doesn’t have a cloak is because maybe he had to take it off due to contamination. or it got snagged on the way here. but honestly i didn’t want to cover up the cool anatomy of my neat design i’ve been playing with, so he is naked once again 😔

this was the big flipaclip harley piece i mentioned in this post while trying to animate something. this idea arose instead, and slowly came to fruition as i found an elaborate way to color while listening to some lethal company and ppt 3 & 4 vids. pen pressure is really new to me and i’m on my knees thanking it for this neat coloring texture and technique i will probably never use again 🛐😌🫶 thank you apple pencil ilysm

anyways, here’s some funny wip shots, and general doctor sillies i found today!! ^_^ it’s been another doctor day

once again, astralspiff is a very cool guy guys 🗣️🔥🔥

but alas. adios amigos 😵‍💫🫡 goedenacht!

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ ["REALISTIC" GHOST BF HEADCANONS] ¡! ❞

@ pls don't be mad, he's just no cute and overly caring, girl dad, princess gf guy yk

@ Don't expect long, heartfelt conversations or flowery compliments. His affection would likely be shown through subtle actions and gestures. He'd be incredibly observant, noticing small details about you and your preferences, and acting on them without fanfare (e.g., remembering your favorite coffee, making sure you have what you need without being asked).

@ Given his line of work and likely past experiences, trust would be the absolute foundation of any relationship with him. It wouldn't be given freely. You'd earn it through consistent reliability, discretion, and understanding of his need for privacy. Once earned, it would be fiercely protected.

@ His life is clandestine. He wouldn't share operational details, and he'd likely maintain a very private personal life. A partner would need to be comfortable with not knowing everything, and with him disappearing for periods with no explanation. Prying would be a serious breach of trust.

@ Public displays of affection would be rare to non-existent. Private affection would be more about quiet comfort and reassurance than grand romantic gestures. A hand on your back, a brief touch, or leaning into your space would be significant signs of his affection and comfort with you.

@ He's a highly capable individual, and he'd likely be attracted to someone who is similarly capable and independent. He wouldn't want to feel like he needs to constantly protect or coddle his partner. He'd respect someone who can handle themselves.

@ His world is chaotic and dangerous. A partner who brings a sense of calm, stability, and normalcy to his life would be invaluable. He wouldn't seek drama or conflict in a relationship; he'd crave a safe haven, unknowingly.

@ He's not likely to be an emotional confider. He's trained to compartmentalize. You might be a source of quiet emotional support for him, but don't expect him to openly share his vulnerabilities or seek comfort in the traditional sense. His comfort might come from simply being in your presence.

@ Building a relationship with Ghost would require immense patience. He wouldn't rush into anything, and he'd likely test boundaries and trust over time. Understanding and accepting his unique way of being would be crucial.

@ There is no true "off-switch" for Ghost. His situational awareness, threat assessment, and general vigilance would be constant. You would observe him always scanning rooms, noticing exits, and being acutely aware of his surroundings, even in supposedly relaxed settings. This isn't paranoia; it's ingrained survival.

@ He's witnessed and performed unspeakable acts. To function, he likely maintains a significant degree of emotional detachment. This isn't a flaw in a relationship; it's a necessary professional tool. Expecting him to be openly expressive or emotionally vulnerable about his work (or even personal feelings) would be unrealistic and likely counterproductive.

@ When he does communicate, it's often direct, concise, and focused on the necessary information. Small talk, extensive personal revelations, or open-ended emotional discussions would be difficult for him. Over time though, he will talk more and more with you, but he rather lets you talk while he listens than actually saying something himself.

@ As mentioned before, public displays are out. In private, physical touch would be more about quiet comfort or a means of connection rather than passionate romance. A firm, reassuring grip, a hand on the small of your back to guide you, or simply being close in proximity would be significant. He's not built for grand gestures of affection.

@ Think about his discipline. He'd have routines, likely related to fitness, readiness, and personal maintenance. These would be non-negotiable. A partner would need to respect these established habits and perhaps even adapt to them.

@ He wouldn't integrate a partner into his professional life, ever. And his professional life would intrude on his personal life constantly. This creates a significant divide. You would need your own robust life, friends, and interests, as Ghost couldn't be your sole source of social interaction or emotional fulfillment.

@ If you needed something done, or if there was a problem, he'd approach it with a solution-oriented, practical mindset. He wouldn't complain; he'd act. This extends to personal matters too – if you had a problem, he'd likely focus on fixing it efficiently.

@ He might not fill a room with conversation or laughter, but his presence would be strong. For a partner, finding comfort in silence, in shared space without the need for constant interaction, would be vital. His "being there" would be more meaningful than his words.

@ Whatever trauma or experiences shaped him into Ghost, they are deeply buried. Attempting to "fix" him, delve into his past, or demand explanations for his guarded nature would be a fundamental misunderstanding of his character and likely lead to him withdrawing further.

[honeydippedfiction]

In Your Arms, Finally {JB9}

Third Installment of Red Zone

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Synopsis: After a week of running from her feelings, Y/N returns to her family and gains the clarity she needs about what truly matters. Trusting her heart, she takes a bold step towards what she’s been avoiding, letting it guide her to a new beginning with Joe.

Warnings: Emotional intensity, Vulnerable and raw moments, Strong romantic themes, Mentions of past character death, Argument, Brief mention of sh*oting, Doubt, Joe and Y/N can't function without each other.

Themes: Self-discovery, Reconciliation, Love and vulnerability, Emotional healing, Overcoming fears, Romance, Drama, Contemporary Fiction

WC: 53.8k

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A/N: This does switch back and forth from your pov and Joe's pov. They will be separated by the orange banner. Get your tissues ready to go (I know I talked about making this part spicy but I couldn’t help but make y’all wait for it)

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Playlist Desparado - The Eagles Candle In The Wind - Elton John I Can't Wait Another Minute - Hi-Five I Wanna Be Your Lover - Prince Butterflies - Michael Jackson ⏮️Previous Next⏭️

Joe took a deep breath, as though grounding himself in the moment, before pulling away just enough to look at you properly. His eyes softened, and you could tell he was fighting something. “I should go. Practice, you know?” he said, a hint of regret in his tone, though he didn’t move to actually leave.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak at first. His proximity still made your heart race, and it felt like your entire body was alive with electricity from just that kiss. You swallowed hard, trying to focus. "Yeah, go," you managed to say, though your voice felt unsteady.

Joe’s hand lingered in yours for a moment longer, and he gave you a final, lingering look before turning and heading out the door, leaving you standing there, your heart still pounding in your chest. The silence that followed felt heavy, almost too quiet after everything that had just happened. As you reached for your phone to call Imani, the door clicked shut behind Joe, and you exhaled slowly, trying to calm yourself.

The phone rang a few times before Imani picked up. “Girl, what happened? You sound like you just ran a marathon,” she teased, her voice upbeat. You laughed softly, shaking your head even though Imani couldn’t see you. “I think I just made a huge mistake,” you said, your voice trailing off. Imani gasped dramatically on the other end. “You kissed him, didn’t you? Wait, no. You did! That’s why you sound so breathless!” She paused, and you could almost hear the grin on her face. “Oh my god, Y/N. How did it feel?”

You sighed, still feeling the rush of emotions, your body still thrumming with the aftereffects of the kiss. “It was... intense. I don’t even know how to explain it. It felt like everything shifted in that moment.”

Imani didn’t respond right away. You could hear her barely stifled laugh before she spoke again. “And you didn’t jump his bones? Seriously? I thought that was the entire point of the kiss!”

You groaned, feeling both embarrassed and completely flustered. “Imani, don’t. It was—look, it was complicated. I don’t even know where we stand after that, okay?”

Imani snorted. “Girl, if I were you, I would've gone for it. That boy’s all over you, and you’re standing there acting like nothing happened?”

You ran a hand through your hair, already regretting how much you were telling her. “It’s just… we’re in different places right now. I don’t know if I’m ready for whatever this is, and I don’t know if he is either.”

Imani’s voice softened just a bit. “Listen, you can’t be afraid to take a chance. Life’s short, Y/N. If you want him, go for it. Don’t let fear hold you back.” There was a beat of silence before she added, “But, like, just tell me you didn’t let him leave without a proper goodbye kiss?”

You winced. “He… he had to go to practice. It was too fast, too much.”

Imani groaned. “You’re killing me, girl. But, okay, I get it. Just don’t regret it.”

You could feel your heart fluttering just from talking about it. “I don’t know if I’ll regret it, but—ugh, I’m just confused now.”

“Well, figure it out quick. I think he might be a little confused too,” Imani said, her voice light with the hint of teasing. “But, Y/N, one thing’s for sure: that boy’s hooked. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

You let out a small laugh, but your thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. “I just need some time to figure it out. But, you’re right. I think something’s changed.”

“Well, whatever happens, I’m here for it,” Imani said, her tone softening. “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, okay?”

“Ha! That’s not saying much,” you joked, but the tension in your chest still hadn’t fully dissipated.

“True. Alright, I’ll let you go. But don’t forget to call me if anything else happens. Especially if you decide to finally make your move.”

You rolled your eyes even though she couldn’t see it. “I will. I promise.”

As you hung up, you couldn’t help but replay that kiss in your head, wondering if Joe was still feeling the same rush of emotions you were, or if he was already pushing it all aside as something casual. But deep down, you knew things between the two of you had shifted—there was no going back from that moment. You stepped out of the shower, feeling refreshed but still a little thrown off from earlier. The kiss with Joe still lingered in your mind, and you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. You pushed the thoughts away as you got dressed and grabbed your bag, heading to the stadium. It was time to focus on practice—and the duties you had as an equipment manager.

When you arrived at the stadium and walked into the laundry room, you found Imani and Keisha whispering to each other, their heads close as they shared something with a touch of mischief in their eyes. The moment you entered, they both looked up at you, their conversation halting as they quickly straightened up. Their guilty expressions didn’t escape you. You raised an eyebrow. “What are you two whispering about?”

Imani flashed you a quick smile, brushing it off. “Oh, nothing. Just some girl talk.” Keisha quickly nodded, adding, “Yeah, nothing to worry about, promise.”

You weren’t convinced, but you decided to let it go—for now. After all, you had more important things to do, like getting the footballs ready for practice.You all started gathering the equipment and getting things ready, heading out to the field. As the equipment managers, it was your job to set up the gear, make sure everything was in order, and help the players get prepared for practice.

You and Imani were setting up the footballs when she leaned over teasingly, her voice a little too casual as she whispered, “Here comes your man.”

You turned toward her, rolling your eyes. “Imani, stop. Seriously.” But even as you said that, you couldn’t help but glance up. Sure enough, Joe was walking toward you, his familiar swagger filling the space around him. He was dressed in his practice gear, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rippling under the fabric, and there was no mistaking the way his gaze locked onto you for just a second. It was brief, but it made your heart skip a beat, and you quickly turned back to the footballs, trying to focus on anything else.

Imani wasn’t letting you off the hook, though. “I’m just saying, Y/N… you might want to do something about that look he’s giving you.” She winked as she nudged you with her elbow. You felt your cheeks heat up, and you tried to laugh it off. “It’s nothing.” Keisha, overhearing, chimed in with a smirk, “Girl, please. That’s definitely not nothing.”

You had no time to respond as Joe made his way over, and your attention shifted to him. He gave you a small nod as he walked past, the briefest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips. There was something about the way he looked at you that made everything feel different now. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you knew he felt it too.

As he passed, Imani leaned in again, her voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “Don’t tell me you’re going to let him walk away like that.” You sighed, trying to ignore the weight of her words. “Imani, seriously.” She just grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “I’m just saying. You’re welcome to make a move anytime, you know.” You rolled your eyes, but even you couldn’t ignore the way your heart was racing.

You tried your best to focus on the task at hand as you set up the water station, the sound of the footballs being tossed around and the players gearing up filling the air. Every step you took, every movement you made, you could feel the weight of Joe's presence lingering in the background. It was impossible to ignore him. You could practically feel his eyes on you, even though you were pretending not to notice.

You bent down to grab the last few water bottles, trying to steady your nerves. Get it together, Y/N, you told yourself. This is just practice. Focus on the job. But your heart kept racing, the memory of his intense gaze from earlier flickering in your mind. The way he’d looked at you that morning, the way his lips had brushed against your temple in that soft, almost intimate kiss—it was impossible to shake off. You could still feel the heat of it on your skin, the tension that had been between you two crackling in the air.

As you straightened up, you heard footsteps approaching. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was, the familiar sound of his heavy boots telling you everything you needed to know. You kept your focus on the water station, hoping he wouldn’t stop to engage. “Need help with that?” Joe’s voice was low, smooth—just the right amount of teasing mixed with that raw, masculine charm he effortlessly carried. You didn’t look up, but you could hear the smirk in his tone. You shook your head, keeping your back to him. “I got it, Joe. You focus on practice. I’ll handle this.”

You could practically feel him smirking behind you. Classic Joe, you thought, the guy who was always the center of attention, always in control, always used to getting what he wanted. But there was something in his tone that was different today. It wasn’t the usual playful arrogance—there was an underlying note of something else. Something… deeper. He didn’t move away. Instead, you felt him getting closer, his presence suddenly invading your personal space. You could hear his breath, feel the heat radiating off him as he leaned in just slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know, you’re not fooling anyone, right?”

You froze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. You turned slightly to glance over your shoulder at him, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but you could already see the way his eyes were trained on you—intense, unwavering. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice more strained than you’d intended. Joe’s lips twitched into a grin, a cocky glint in his eyes. “I can tell you’re trying to ignore me. Trying to pretend like this”—he gestured between the two of you—“isn’t happening. But it is.”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling your pulse quicken. Damn it. He was right. The tension between you two was thick enough to cut with a knife, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it was impossible. “I’m not ignoring you,” you replied coolly, turning back to the water station, pretending to focus on getting everything just right. You weren’t sure if you were trying to distract him—or yourself—from the way your heart was pounding in your chest. Joe’s footsteps grew louder as he took a step closer. “You’re lying,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And you’re not fooling anyone either. Not Keisha, not Imani, definitely not me.”

You tried not to let the heat that was creeping up your neck show on your face, but you could feel your cheeks flush. He was way too confident. But you couldn’t deny that it was driving you crazy, the way he stood there, unbothered by the obvious tension, like he was waiting for you to cave. “I’m not lying,” you muttered, trying to play it cool, though your voice lacked the usual conviction. “Oh, you are,” he said, and you could practically hear the grin in his voice. “You think I don’t see how you look at me when I walk into a room? You think I don’t know you’ve been thinking about what happened between us this morning?” He paused for a second, his voice dropping lower, more intense. “I know you felt it. I felt it. And you’re lying if you say you didn’t.”

You could feel your pulse racing now, your hands suddenly clammy as you gripped the water bottles in your hands. He wasn’t wrong. You had been thinking about it—about him. Constantly. And despite everything, you weren’t sure how to process the confusion swirling inside you. You finally looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He was standing way too close, his presence surrounding you, as if he was trying to pull you into his orbit. And god, it was working. “Joe…” You didn’t know what you were going to say—didn’t know if you could even get words out at all—but his name felt like a confession in itself.

He smiled, soft and knowing. “It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to pretend with me.” You stared at him for a beat, unsure of how to respond. The way he was looking at you—intensely, like you were the only person in the room—was almost overwhelming. It was like he could see through all your walls, all your defenses. And he was making it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere until you acknowledged what was happening between you two.

Just as you were about to speak, you heard the whistle blow signaling the start of practice. Joe took a half step back, his eyes still locked onto you, but the smirk on his lips was gone, replaced by something more vulnerable, something deeper. There was no more teasing, no more playing around. He wasn’t just flirting anymore—he was waiting, waiting for you to catch up to him, to admit what he already knew. "Practice time," he said softly, but the way he said it—almost reluctantly—told you everything you needed to know.

He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the tension between you. "Yeah," you said quietly, your heart thudding in your chest, "practice time." The tension between you and Joe was palpable, and you could feel the heat of his gaze still on you, the intensity of the moment hanging in the air like a thick fog. But you weren’t about to let him get the upper hand—not now, not when you were starting to feel the weight of this ridiculous pull between you two.

You turned toward him slowly, letting your lips curl into a playful, mischievous smile. “You know, Joe,” you began, your voice light but teasing, “you’re getting way too comfortable thinking you know everything about me.” You saw him tense just slightly, as if bracing for whatever you were about to say next. His confidence was undeniable, but you were starting to enjoy the power you had in this little game.

You took a step closer to him, feeling the buzz of his proximity all over again. He shifted, almost like he was trying to hold his ground, but you could see his eyes flicker with that familiar mix of desire and confusion. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head. With a flick of your wrist, you brushed past him, purposefully letting the edge of your arm graze his. His breath hitched, and you almost smirked at how easily you’d thrown him off balance. But you weren’t finished.

You took a moment to look back over your shoulder, catching his eye once more. His expression was a mix of disbelief and admiration, his mouth slightly agape as if he hadn’t seen this side of you before. “Maybe you’re not as good at reading me as you think,” you added with a raised eyebrow, your voice a sultry whisper that you knew would hit him hard.

You saw him open his mouth, like he was going to say something, but you didn’t wait. Instead, you turned and walked away from him, letting your hips sway just a little more than usual. You didn’t look back, but you could practically feel him watching you, his gaze locked on every curve, every step you took. You could hear him mutter something under his breath, but by then, you were already out of his reach, feeling a surge of satisfaction as you let him stew in his own thoughts for a moment.

For once, you weren’t the one left in the whirlwind of emotions. Now it was Joe’s turn to be thrown off-balance, and it was glorious. It wasn’t just the slow burn anymore. You were having fun with it, and you knew Joe was in way deeper than he had ever expected. Let the games continue.

You stood with Imani and Keisha on the sidelines, watching the team go through their drills. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the field, and the sounds of cleats hitting the turf and whistles being blown filled the air. But your attention wasn’t on the drills. It was on the guy who was running up and down the field with a seemingly effortless confidence—Joe. Imani, always the one to speak her mind, let out a low whistle as Joe sprinted across the field. “God, his ass is so big,” she said, eyes wide as she practically ogled him. Keisha let out a laugh, clearly agreeing. “I know, right? It’s like he’s got everything—looks, talent, and now that. So unfair.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “So not fair,” you agreed with a dramatic sigh. You shook your head in mock frustration, putting a hand on your hip. “Why does he get it all?” you whined, earning a giggle from both of the girls. Imani nudged you with her elbow, still chuckling. “You know, if I wasn’t so busy loving my own life, I might get jealous. He’s got it all—and it’s not even fair.”

Keisha laughed again, glancing over at you. “Girl, he’s got you looking at him like that, and you’re talking about his ass?” You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but there was no hiding the flush creeping up your neck. “It’s not like that,” you mumbled, but the girls weren’t having it. “Oh, it’s totally like that,” Imani teased, winking at you. “I mean, we’ve all seen the way you look at him. It’s not just the ass you’re looking at.”

The comment hit you a little harder than expected, and you tried to brush it off by crossing your arms and turning back to watch the team. But there was no denying it—your attention always drifted back to Joe. His movements, the way he carried himself, the way his muscles flexed with every step. And yeah, that ass. You couldn’t ignore that either. Keisha caught the look on your face, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “I’m just saying, if you’re gonna stare, at least do it without getting caught.”

You rolled your eyes, but the playful banter made it easier to ignore the fact that Joe had you completely twisted up inside. For now, at least, you could pretend like it was all just harmless fun. The last thing you needed was to let anyone—especially Joe—know just how deep this little crush of yours really ran. But as the players moved through their drills, Joe’s eyes caught yours from across the field, and for just a second, he gave you a little smirk—like he knew exactly what you were thinking. And just like that, you felt your heart race.

This was going to be interesting. Imani and Keisha were absorbed in their usual not-so-subtle checking out of the other players as they jogged past, their eyes scanning every guy with equal parts admiration and appreciation. The two of them barely made an effort to hide their obvious stares, with Keisha openly fanning herself as another player flexed his muscles. Imani gave her a playful shove, both of them grinning like they were at some sort of fashion show.

“Oh, look at Ja’Marr’s arms,” Keisha murmured, her eyes trailing the wide receiver’s form. “Seriously, how does he even get those guns through a doorframe?” Imani was quick to join in, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “No kidding. That man has too many muscles. It’s like a walking personal trainer.”

They both giggled, clearly enjoying the view, but Y/N couldn’t help but notice that their conversation had shifted from the usual team banter to a different subject entirely. She wasn’t paying much attention to the others though—her gaze was still on one person. As Joe jogged past, his broad shoulders and confident stride made it impossible for her to look anywhere else. She couldn’t stop herself from studying the way his movements seemed effortless, like he was born to do this.

Keisha noticed Y/N’s focus shift and raised an eyebrow. “I see you,” she teased. “Not even looking at Ja’Marr, huh?”

Y/N blinked, snapping out of her Joe-induced trance, but her cheeks flushed a little, betraying her. “What? I’m just trying to stay focused,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant as her eyes flicked back to the field. Imani smirked, nudging Y/N’s arm with a knowing look. “Uh-huh, focused, sure. Focused on Joe’s perfect ass, right?” Y/N’s face went a shade deeper. She wasn’t exactly trying to hide her attraction anymore, but she wasn’t exactly shouting it from the rooftops either. Still, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, what’s a girl supposed to do when he's out here giving us all a show?”

Keisha leaned in, lowering her voice like she was about to share a secret. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind being the one he’s looking at. You’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Imani shot a pointed glance at Y/N, her eyes twinkling. “You mean the way he looks at you when he’s not trying to make it obvious? Girl, he’s got it bad for you.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened at the thought, but she didn’t give her friends the satisfaction of knowing that their words were getting under her skin. She rolled her eyes, trying to act cool despite the warmth spreading through her chest. “Come on, I’m not the only one getting attention here,” she shot back, glancing at Keisha who was clearly eyeing Tee as he jogged by, his smile as wide as ever. “You two can’t pretend like you’re not looking too.”

Keisha shrugged, unabashed. “We’re just admiring the view. Nothing wrong with that.” Imani grinned. “Right, nothing wrong at all. But Y/N? Girl, don’t think we haven’t seen the way your eyes follow Joe around. You might not admit it, but it’s written all over your face.” Y/N sighed dramatically, looking out over the field, trying to ignore the electric tension still lingering between her and Joe. She could feel his eyes on her again, even from across the field. He was probably too busy to be thinking about her like that, but the way he looked at her sometimes… It made her heart race, and it wasn’t easy to ignore.

“Whatever,” she muttered, trying to sound confident, “he’s just—he’s Joe. He’s the guy on the team who probably has a million women after him already. I’m not gonna make it easy for him.” Imani and Keisha exchanged looks, clearly not buying it. “Sure, sure,” Imani said with a sly smile, “you keep telling yourself that.” Keisha laughed under her breath. “But don’t take too long to not make it easy. He’s not gonna wait forever, you know.”

Y/N felt her stomach do a little flip, but she quickly brushed it off. “I’m not waiting for anything,” she said, voice barely a whisper. “I’m just here to do my job.” Keisha and Imani looked at each other and shook their heads. “Uh-huh. Sure you are,” they chorused.

As the players took a break, Y/N finally pulled her eyes away from Joe, feeling the heat rise in her face. But she couldn’t ignore the way his gaze seemed to settle on her, even from across the field, a knowing, teasing look in his eyes. He wasn’t making this easy. Not at all. And maybe that was the point.

Imani and Keisha were still locked into their conversation, eyes glued to the field as Joe jogged past with his teammates. They were practically undressing him with their gazes. “I swear, Joe’s got the best ass on the team,” Keisha said, lowering her voice but still unable to contain her excitement. “How is that even real? It’s like... perfect.” Imani nodded, her gaze following him like a hawk. “I need to know what kind of workouts he’s doing, because damn, that boy knows how to keep it right.”

Y/N, who had been trying to stay focused on the drills and her responsibilities, rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her lips. “Alright, alright, you guys are making it sound like he’s got some kind of supernatural power or something,” she teased, but her eyes still flicked to Joe, just for a second. It was like she couldn’t help herself. Keisha was practically fanning herself now, unable to stop the grin on her face. “Honestly, if I were him, I’d be wearing tighter pants just to make sure we all know exactly what we’re working with.”

Imani smirked at Keisha, and then they both turned to look at Y/N. “Girl, you saw it too. Don’t even try to act like you’re immune,” Imani said, nudging her playfully. “That man’s booty should come with a warning label.” Y/N laughed, shaking her head trying to play it off, but her eyes still followed him as he jogged effortlessly across the field. She couldn’t lie. The man had a way of making everything he did look effortless, including making her weak in the knees with just one look.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I’m just saying, it’s a crime. A man shouldn’t be allowed to look like that and have a backside that could stop traffic.” She sighed, “Not fair.”

“Right?” Keisha agreed, her voice full of mock outrage. “Like, who does he think he is, walking around with all that?” Before more teasing could follow, the sharp whistle of the coach cut through the air, signaling a break. The players started jogging toward the sidelines, their voices rising as they joked and laughed, momentarily breaking from the intensity of the practice.

Y/N turned instinctively, her heart doing that stupid little flip in her chest when she saw Joe walking toward them, a grin already tugging at the corners of his mouth. As if on cue, her eyes locked with his. She couldn’t look away. The playful tension was there again, pulling at her like a magnetic force. She couldn’t help herself—she checked him out as he made his way over. Keisha giggled quietly, nudging Imani, while Imani smirked, clearly amused. “Oh, look at you,” Imani whispered, her voice full of teasing. “Seems like someone’s a little distracted.”

Y/N quickly broke her gaze away from Joe, her face flushing just a little. “I’m not,” she muttered, trying to act like she wasn’t completely caught up in the moment. “I was just... appreciating the view.” Keisha leaned over to Imani, speaking louder now so Y/N could hear. “Right. Just ‘appreciating.’ We all know what that means.”

Before Y/N could protest, Tee, Ja'Marr, and Joe approached. Tee, ever the instigator, noticed the three girls chatting and gave them a knowing grin. “What are you guys talking about so intensely over here? Planning something, or are you all just busy gossiping about us?” Imani tried not to laugh, leaning in with exaggerated seriousness. “Oh, nothing too important. Just discussing how some of you guys are out here making hearts skip beats and distracting everyone with your... unbelievable physiques.”

Keisha snickered at Imani’s mock-serious tone, but there was no mistaking who the conversation was really about. Joe raised an eyebrow and leaned against the fence, crossing his arms in that effortlessly cocky way of his. “What’s all this about, huh? You all talking about how hard it is to keep your eyes on the game?” His voice was playful, but there was something behind his words that sent a subtle shiver down Y/N’s spine. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Y/N smirked and shot him a half-glare. “Something like that,” she said, but her voice betrayed her. She was definitely not unaffected by his presence, and they both knew it. Tee, noticing the shift in the air, raised an eyebrow. “Damn, you guys really can’t keep it together, huh? It’s like you’re all obsessed with this guy,” he joked, nudging Joe with his shoulder. “Is this what happens when you’re too good-looking for your own good?”

Joe’s grin widened, and he shrugged casually. “Guess I’m just used to the attention.” But there was a vulnerability in his voice, something that made Y/N’s heart twist for a moment. Was he aware of the way they all watched him, or was he just putting up a confident front? Keisha, unable to hold back, leaned in with a teasing grin. “Who could blame us, though?” she said sweetly, her voice full of mock sincerity. “That ass isn’t the only thing that makes you stand out.”

Imani, looking at Y/N with a mischievous gleam in her eye, chimed in. “Y/N, don’t act like you’re not secretly in agreement,” she said, a smirk tugging at her lips. Joe caught Y/N’s reaction, his gaze locking with hers, and the electricity between them was undeniable. He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice just enough for her to hear, a teasing edge creeping in. “You’ve got a lot of thoughts, don’t you, Y/N?”

Y/N fought the warmth that spread through her at his words, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “No thoughts here. Just trying to keep it professional.” She couldn’t believe she was still trying to pretend she wasn’t affected by him. He had her completely wrapped around his finger, and he knew it. Joe raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the little game they were playing. “Uh-huh,” he murmured, clearly not convinced. He leaned back against the fence, his gaze lingering on her, that playful yet intense look never leaving his eyes.

Joe’s eyes never left hers, the tension between them palpable as he leaned back against the fence, his arms crossed casually. But there was nothing casual about the way his gaze swept over her, as if he could see right through the walls she tried so hard to put up. Y/N could feel the heat creeping up her neck, betraying the calm demeanor she was desperately clinging to. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to look away, but the pull of his stare was too strong. She was caught, completely and utterly.

“You know,” Joe started, his voice low and smooth, like honey, “if you’re trying to be all professional, you’re doing a pretty terrible job of it.” His lips curled into a grin, and Y/N could feel her heart flutter at the teasing, but also the weight behind his words. Was he teasing her? Or was he... flirting? She narrowed her eyes, hoping her attempt at playful deflection would throw him off, but it only made his grin widen. “I’m just making sure I don’t get distracted,” she said, her voice coming out a little too breathy for comfort. “I have a job to do.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Joe said, voice thick with amusement. His eyes flickered down to her lips for a split second before returning to her eyes. The movement was so subtle, yet it didn’t escape her notice. He was enjoying this—too much. Y/N could feel her pulse quickening, the atmosphere between them thick with something unspoken. Every time she tried to focus, every time she tried to put distance between them, the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only one in the world. It was so damn hard to ignore him, to pretend that this wasn’t affecting her just as much as it seemed to be affecting him. “I think you’re doing a good job of it, though,” Joe continued, his voice soft but teasing. “Trying to be all tough and professional. But I can see it. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She wasn’t fooling anyone. She wasn’t fooling him. And damn, she hated how he could read her like an open book, her every reaction on display for him to enjoy. Before she could come up with a comeback, Tee and Ja'Marr approached, clearly oblivious to the tension that hung in the air. Tee clapped Joe on the back, breaking the moment between them. “Come on, man, let’s go. We’ve been standing here long enough.” Joe gave Y/N one last look, his eyes smoldering with that mischievous, knowing gleam before he pushed off the fence. “We’ll continue this later, Y/N,” he said, his voice low, teasing—just for her.

Y/N felt the rush of heat across her face as she struggled to regain her composure. “Sure, later,” she muttered, doing her best to sound unaffected. But inside, she was a mess. Every part of her wanted to call out, pull him back, maybe even let him finish what they had started. But no—she couldn’t. She had to hold it together. Keisha and Imani, who had been watching the exchange quietly, exchanged knowing glances. Keisha raised her eyebrows as soon as Joe and the guys walked away. “Yooo, I’m not even gonna lie, Y/N. That was intense,” she said, her voice full of mock innocence. “Are we sure you’re not hiding a secret crush?”

Imani smirked, her eyes dancing with amusement. “We definitely know you’re not immune to Joe. The way you two were staring at each other? Girl, the tension could’ve cut with a knife.” Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the flush that was still on her cheeks. “You guys are crazy,” she said, but the playful edge in her voice didn’t escape either of them. “I just—he’s... he’s just distracting. That’s all.”

“Distracting, huh?” Imani said, clearly enjoying the way Y/N was trying to downplay it. “If he was any more distracting, you’d be the one getting in trouble.” Y/N sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. “Can we please just focus on the game and stop talking about Joe’s... distracting ass?”

Keisha grinned, nudging Imani. “Sure, sure. We’ll let you off the hook for now. But, girl, you definitely have a lot more than ‘professionalism’ on your mind when it comes to Joe.” Y/N glared at them, but deep down, she couldn’t argue with them. She knew she was playing a dangerous game. And the worst part? She didn’t even know if she wanted to stop. Every moment with Joe felt like a slow burn—intense, electric, and impossible to resist. As the practice resumed, Y/N forced herself to focus on the players again, but she could feel Joe’s presence looming, the weight of his gaze still burning against her skin. She knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t over. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to be.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Joe had always been the center of attention. It came with the territory—he was a star player, and people were naturally drawn to him. But what made Y/N different, what made her stand out in the crowd, was the way she looked at him. It wasn’t the usual admiration or flirtation. No, hers was different. It was a quiet, magnetic pull. He could feel her eyes on him even when she thought he wasn’t looking, and that did something to him. Something he wasn’t willing to admit.

Every time their eyes met, it was like a silent game, a challenge neither of them was ready to fully play, but both of them were undeniably engaged in. Her gaze always lingered just a little longer than usual, her lips pressed together like she was holding back the thoughts that raced through her mind. He could see it in the way her breath would catch when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. He loved that about her—how she tried so hard to act like she didn’t care, but Joe could see right through her. And God, did that drive him crazy.

It was a game he’d been playing all afternoon during the drills. Every time he caught her looking his way, that small, fleeting look, his body seemed to wake up, as if on autopilot, drawn to her. The soreness in his muscles faded when he thought about how she watched him, how she made him feel like he was the only person in the room.

But it wasn’t just the way she looked at him—it was how she acted like she wasn’t. That made it all the more tantalizing, like a secret they were both trying to keep, but neither of them wanted to break. Not yet. When the break came, he couldn’t help himself. He’d been watching her talk with Keisha and Imani, her back slightly turned, and he noticed—again—that brief glance she threw his way, like she couldn’t resist looking at him just a little longer. His lips curved into a devilish grin.

He had to call her out on it. There was no way he was letting this moment slide. “Y/N,” he said her name slowly, letting the playful edge in his voice linger. She whipped around, caught off guard. Her eyes met his, and he caught the hesitation in her gaze. She didn’t know how to play this game with him. Not anymore. “What’s up, Joe?” she asked, trying to sound casual, but there was a slight tremor in her voice that made his grin widen.

He leaned against the fence, folding his arms, his eyes locked onto hers. “I couldn’t help but notice you checking me out earlier,” he teased, his voice smooth, as if it was just a passing observation. “You know, during those drills.” His gaze drifted slowly, deliberately, over her face and down to where her eyes had been focused moments before—right on his backside. “I gotta say, I’m flattered. You like what you see?”

Her eyes widened, then quickly snapped back into focus, but not before the blush crept up her neck, betraying her. Y/N tried to recover, crossing her arms and mimicking his stance, but the nervous energy in her posture gave her away. “I wasn’t checking you out,” she insisted, though the way her voice cracked just slightly told Joe everything he needed to know. “I was just looking around. Nothing special.” Joe stepped closer, narrowing the space between them just enough to make her breath hitch. “Uh-huh. Sure you were.” His voice dropped, becoming more intimate, more teasing. “But I think you were paying a little extra attention to me. Specifically, my backside.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked away, but Joe caught the brief hesitation. She was trying so hard not to react, but he could see the telltale signs. Her breath was uneven, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were pressed tightly together like she was fighting to keep from smiling. “I’m just saying,” Joe continued, his voice dropping even lower, just for her. “If I had a body like that, I’d be looking too.” He leaned in closer, his lips just inches from her ear, his breath warm on her skin. “You’ve got some admiration going on, Y/N. Don’t even try to deny it. You can look and you can also touch baby, I’m all yours.”

Her breath hitched again, and Joe’s pulse quickened in response. She wasn’t saying anything, but he could feel the way her body reacted to his words. It was like a slow burn, and he couldn’t help but fuel it. Every inch of her seemed to pull him closer, even though she was still pretending to hold her ground. Y/N managed to swallow her words for a moment, trying to keep her composure. But before she could come up with a snarky comeback, Imani, ever the observant friend, called out, teasing them both. “Y/N, girl, he’s got you. You can’t even pretend you’re not into him.”

Y/N shot a glare at Imani, but Joe caught the way her lips trembled, fighting back a laugh. That was the thing about Y/N—she was always so composed, so in control, but he could see right through her. He always had, and it only made him want her more. He pulled back slightly, giving her a little space, but his smirk never faltered. “You know,” he said, his tone lowering even more, “if you keep looking at me like that, I might think you’re turning into a full-blown stalker.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, before adding, “But don’t worry. I’m not complaining.”

Y/N let out a long breath, as if trying to exhale away the effect he had on her. “You’re so full of yourself, Joe,” she muttered, her voice sounding more annoyed than she probably intended. But Joe could see the corners of her lips twitching, like she was fighting a smile. And that only made him want to push her further.

“Yeah, well, I can’t help it,” he said, his grin widening. “I am that good.” He turned to walk away, but not before casting one last glance over his shoulder. He caught her staring at him again, her eyes glued to his back for just a second before she quickly looked away, as if she had been caught. Joe’s chest tightened, satisfaction flooding through him. He loved knowing he had that kind of effect on her.

But deep down, he knew this wasn’t over. The way she was reacting to him now? The way she couldn’t hide it? It was only a matter of time before they both cracked. And when that happened, nothing was going to stop either of them.

The tension was thick. And Joe? He was ready to see how far it would go. Y/N could feel the heat of Joe's words lingering long after he’d walked away. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she fought to keep herself composed, though she could still feel the warmth of his breath on her ear. Damn him. Damn him for knowing exactly what to say to rattle her, to make her feel things she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. And the worst part? She didn’t even want him to stop.

She tried to shake it off as she turned back to Keisha and Imani, but she could still feel the pull of his presence, like a magnetic field that wouldn’t let her go. It was crazy how much power he had over her. The teasing, the tension between them—it was all too much. And what was worse, she had no idea how to fight it. Keisha shot her a sly smile. “Girl, you’ve got it bad. You could barely keep your cool back there.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if to shield herself from the heat that was creeping up her neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, even though she was pretty sure the blush on her face told a different story. Imani chuckled from beside her. “You’re in denial, Y/N. I mean, the way you two look at each other? It’s like a telenovela in real life. I’m just waiting for the dramatic kiss to happen.”

Y/N groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Please, no. It’s nothing like that.” Keisha raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to us. We both saw the way you reacted to him. You were practically melting under that smug smile of his.”

Y/N shot them both a glare, but it lacked any real bite. She wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself. Joe had a way of getting under her skin in a way no one else ever had, and she hated it. And loved it. And hated that she loved it. She forced herself to look away from them, trying to refocus on the practice, but all she could think about was Joe—his voice, the way he leaned in close, the smugness in his eyes. The way he looked at her, like he knew exactly how much he was messing with her head. And what made it worse was that part of her wanted him to keep doing it. She could feel her pulse quicken at the memory of their close encounter, the tension that had built up between them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Imani’s voice, now full of mischief. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re hoping for more of those ‘check-ins’ with Joe. I mean, seriously, he’s practically begging you to give in.”

Y/N couldn’t even argue. The truth was, she was dangerously close to giving in. The way Joe looked at her, the way he could make her feel like the only person in the room—it was hard to ignore. And it was becoming harder to pretend it didn’t affect her. So much. “Can we just focus on the practice, please?” she said with a sigh, trying to brush them off, but there was no hiding the fact that she was still rattled from their exchange. She had to keep her distance, though. She couldn’t let Joe see how much he had rattled her. Not again.

But as practice continued, as the drills resumed, she kept feeling the weight of his gaze on her. Every now and then, when she’d glance up, she’d find him looking her way, like he was still playing some game, waiting for her to crack. And damn it, she felt like she was on the verge of doing just that. Every time she saw that cocky smirk of his, that playful gleam in his eyes, she wanted to lose herself in it. She wanted to stop pretending that she was unaffected, to give in to whatever this... thing was between them.

She bit her lip, trying to concentrate, but it was impossible. Joe had thrown her off balance, and the more she tried to regain her composure, the more he seemed to pull her in. And with each passing second, the tension between them only seemed to grow, thicker, hotter, like it was begging to snap. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep pretending it didn’t matter. And that terrified her. Because if she gave in, if she let herself fall for it... she didn’t know if she could ever come back from it.

The air in the equipment room was thick with the scent of sweat, grass, and the remnants of a long practice. Y/N and Imani worked side by side, sorting through the laundry, folding jerseys, and trying to ignore the lingering tension that had followed them since the field. Y/N couldn't help but feel the weight of it, that electric charge that seemed to hang between her and Joe, even though he was nowhere near. But even as she tried to focus on the task in front of her, she could feel his presence lingering in the back of her mind.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and the sound of footsteps echoed in the room. Y/N’s head snapped up instinctively, even before she heard the familiar voices of Tee and Ja'Marr. She didn't need to look to know Joe was right behind them. Imani, clearly more at ease than Y/N, smiled at the guys as they strolled in, chatting casually. "You guys are stopping by to check on your laundry?" she teased, clearly in a playful mood.

Tee smirked. "You think we trust you to handle our jerseys? Please, we're just here for the vibe," he said, glancing over at Y/N, a cheeky smile on his face. But it wasn’t Tee’s teasing that caught Y/N’s attention—it was Joe. His eyes immediately found hers, like a magnet pulling them together. He leaned casually against the doorway, his arms folded, a smug look on his face. His gaze never wavered from her, and Y/N could feel her heart rate kick up a notch. It was like he was waiting for something—waiting for her to crack, to say something, to do something that would break the silent tension between them.

Imani nudged Y/N’s elbow, and Y/N quickly tore her eyes away from Joe’s piercing gaze. “You okay?” Imani whispered under her breath, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Y/N shot her a sharp look, but it was obvious she couldn’t hide the flush creeping up her neck. “I’m fine,” she muttered, though the way her pulse raced gave her away.

Joe, sensing the moment, pushed off from the doorway and walked over to the laundry pile. He was too damn close, his presence radiating like a force field that made it impossible for Y/N to focus. “You girls got everything under control?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, like he knew exactly how much his proximity was affecting her.

His eyes never left hers, his smirk only deepening when he saw how she shifted, clearly uncomfortable but trying to act like she was fine. Y/N could feel her stomach tighten. “Yeah,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “We’re good. Just getting things sorted.”

Joe’s gaze never faltered, and a knowing glint danced in his eyes as he stepped even closer. He bent down to grab a football jersey from the pile, his arm brushing against hers as he straightened back up. The brief touch sent a jolt of electricity straight through her, but she didn’t let it show. At least, she tried not to. “Good. I’d hate for my jersey to be folded wrong.” His tone was playful, but the underlying meaning in his words wasn’t lost on Y/N.

Tee chuckled, clearly picking up on the tension. “You two sure you don’t have a secret thing going on?” he said, his tone light but teasing. “I can feel the heat from here.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed even deeper, and she quickly glanced at Imani, who raised her eyebrows suggestively. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Grateful for the distraction, she quickly pulled it out and unlocked the screen. The notification made her heart skip a beat.

It was a text from Joe. Meet me back on the field. Now.

Her pulse spiked, and she froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. Was he serious? Of course, he was. She knew that look in his eyes—he wasn’t playing around anymore. She could feel the heat of his gaze still on her, even as she stood there reading the text. Imani noticed her hesitation. “What’s wrong? You gonna leave us with these guys?”

Y/N shook her head, swallowing hard. “No. Just… uh, I gotta go do something real quick.” She stuffed her phone back into her pocket, trying her best to sound nonchalant. Joe, who had been watching her closely, finally broke his silence, his voice low and steady, but with that undeniable teasing edge. “You gonna come, or are you gonna leave me hanging?” His words hung in the air like a challenge. Y/N’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening once again. She couldn’t hide the way his words made her feel—like he was pulling her in, inch by inch, until there would be no turning back.

With a final glance at Imani and Tee, Y/N straightened her back, trying to project confidence she wasn’t sure she felt. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, her voice steady despite the heat that coursed through her.

As she moved past Joe, his gaze followed her every step, and she could feel the weight of it, like an invisible tether pulling her closer to him. She tried to ignore the way her breath caught in her throat, but she couldn’t—he had a way of making her feel completely and utterly seen. The moment she reached the door, Joe’s voice called after her, softer now, but still laced with that same teasing tone. “Hurry up, Y/N. I’m waiting.”

Her pulse raced at the sound of his voice, and for a moment, she was paralyzed by the intensity of it all. But she couldn’t back out now. She turned, forcing a smile she didn’t quite feel. “Don’t worry, Joe. I’m coming.”

As she stepped out of the equipment room and made her way to the field, her mind raced, but one thing was certain—she wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but she knew that whatever it was, it was going to change everything. The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the indoor practice facility, casting long, golden beams of light across the field. The buzz of the gym had started to quiet, the energy of the practice winding down as the players filed out, heading for their showers and to grab some rest. But Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling in the air. There was still this tension that hung between her and Joe, lingering in the space like an unanswered question. She tried to brush it off as she moved toward the locker room to grab her stuff, but she couldn’t ignore it.

The moment she stepped out, she saw Joe, his tall figure leaning against the wall, waiting by the benches. He had his eyes on her, as usual. And that gaze? It was different today. It wasn’t the usual playful teasing or the mischievous spark—it was more serious, more determined. The kind of look that made Y/N’s chest tighten, her heart beating just a little faster. She approached him, her steps slowing as she felt the weight of the conversation coming. Joe pushed himself off the wall when he saw her, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for you,” he said with a soft chuckle, but his voice held a note of something deeper, something real that made Y/N feel vulnerable. “Yeah? I’ve been a little busy,” Y/N replied, her tone more nonchalant than she felt. She could feel her palms starting to sweat and wiped them on her jeans, trying to hide the nerves creeping up on her.

Joe stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. “You know what this is about, right?”

Y/N swallowed, trying to collect herself, but her stomach twisted in knots. She had a feeling this conversation was coming, and as much as she wanted to avoid it, she knew she couldn’t. Joe was determined, and when he was serious like this, it was impossible to ignore him. The weight of Joe's words hung heavily in the air, the space between them charged with something intense, something they both felt but hadn’t fully acknowledged. Y/N stood there, her chest tightening with every word he spoke. His serious tone, his steady gaze—it all pointed to one thing: Joe wasn’t playing around. But neither was she, or so she thought.

“I’m serious about you, Y/N,” Joe repeated, his voice unwavering. “I’m not here for some game. I want this. I want you. And I need to know if you feel the same way, because I can’t keep doing this back and forth. I need you to stop avoiding it.” The words struck her like a blow to the chest. She wasn’t avoiding anything. She was just trying to keep herself together. She wasn’t ready to let someone like Joe in—someone who could have anyone, but of all people, was choosing her. The thought made her stomach twist in knots.

Y/N felt the familiar prickling of frustration rise in her chest, and before she could stop herself, the words came spilling out. “I’m not avoiding anything!” Her voice was louder than she intended, sharp with defiance. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Joe. I’m just trying to keep my head on straight. I’m not some toy for you to play with.”

Joe’s brow furrowed, frustration flashing in his eyes. The teasing glint was gone now, replaced by something more raw, more real. “You are avoiding it, Y/N,” he said, the edge in his voice now unmistakable. “Don’t try to pretend like you’re not. You can’t keep pushing me away like this and acting like everything’s fine.” Y/N felt the heat rise to her cheeks, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Her heart raced, and it took everything in her to keep herself composed. “I’m not pushing you away,” she snapped, “I just don’t need this right now.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched, and for a split second, Y/N could see a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze before it was replaced with frustration. “Is this a game to you?” he asked, his voice lowering, but not losing its intensity. “Because if it is, if you’re just messing with me, then I’ll walk away right now. I won’t waste my time.” Y/N felt her breath catch. The accusation stung more than it should have. “I’m not playing games,” she shot back, her voice laced with irritation. “You don’t get it, Joe. I’m not some—some girl you can just charm and sweep off her feet. I don’t need this.”

Joe took a step closer, his face tightening with anger. “I get it, Y/N,” he said, his voice now dripping with frustration. “You’re scared. You’re scared of what we could be. And I’m tired of you running from it.” Her heart hammered in her chest as she took a step back, trying to create some space between them. But the anger inside her flared again, sharper than before. “I’m not scared of you, Joe. I’m not scared of anything,” she snapped, her voice bitter, the words coming out more harshly than she intended. “I just don’t need this drama. I don’t need you making me feel like shit for not jumping into whatever fantasy world you’ve got built up in your head.”

Joe stood there, his lips pressed into a thin line, his fists clenched at his sides. He was silent for a moment, taking in her words, and when he finally spoke, his tone was cold and deliberate.

“Fine. If that’s how you want it, Y/N. If you think it’s all just drama, then maybe I’m wasting my time here.” His eyes bore into hers, a challenge and pain mixed in his expression. “Maybe you don’t care about me at all. Maybe you’ve just been playing with me like I’m just some guy you can push around. If that’s what this is, then I’m done.”

The finality in his words hit her like a slap in the face. For a moment, Y/N didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to admit it, but part of her wanted him to walk away. It would be easier—simpler. Safer. But she couldn’t deny the feeling that had been growing inside her, the pull toward him that she couldn’t resist no matter how hard she tried. “No,” she finally said, her voice quieter but no less biting. “That’s not it. You don’t get it. You think you know everything about me, but you don’t. And you’re not going to.” She turned her back on him, her chest heaving with the weight of everything she wanted to say and couldn’t.

Joe didn’t move at first. He just stood there, watching her, the tension thick between them. Y/N was trying so damn hard to keep it together, but the rush of emotion—anger, frustration, and the overwhelming desire to just let go—was too much. Without saying another word, Y/N spun on her heel and stormed off, her footsteps echoing in the quiet space of the indoor practice field. Her heart was pounding, her mind a blur of confusion and hurt, but she refused to turn around. She couldn’t.

Joe’s voice called out to her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t face him right now—not with everything swirling inside her. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be.

Y/N slammed the door to the equipment room behind her, the sound of it crashing against the wall echoing through the empty space. The sharp noise was a physical manifestation of the storm inside her—her heart racing, her mind spinning, her thoughts a jumbled mess. Imani and Keisha looked up in shock, immediately sensing the change in her. They exchanged a quick, silent glance before standing up, their concern etched on their faces.

“Y/N?” Keisha started cautiously, but the way Y/N’s shoulders tensed told her everything she needed to know. “Don’t,” Y/N snapped, her voice hoarse, barely keeping it together. She held up her hand, the gesture stopping them in their tracks before they could ask more. The last thing she wanted right now was to talk about that. About Joe. About the tension that had finally broken her.

Her stomach churned at the thought of him, his words, the way he’d looked at her. He’d gotten too close—too real—and now, everything felt like it was slipping through her fingers. She had let him in, she had let herself feel something for him, and now it was all a goddamn mess. Imani and Keisha exchanged another glance, concern and curiosity flickering between them. But Y/N didn’t give them the chance to probe further. She was already grabbing her things from the locker, her hands moving mechanically as if she were on autopilot, wanting to get out of there, wanting to escape the feelings that were making her head spin.

“Y/N,” Imani said, her voice soft but full of understanding, “what happened? Did you—did you talk to Joe?” Y/N froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat at the mention of his name. She could still hear his voice in her head, feel the heat from his touch, the way his eyes had locked onto hers. That look, that damn look he gave her—it was impossible to shake.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of control. But the knot in her stomach wouldn’t loosen. “I can’t do this,” she muttered to herself, more than to them. She swallowed hard, refusing to let them see the rawness she felt inside. Keisha stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. “Y/N, you know you can talk to us, right? If you need to—” “No,” Y/N cut her off, her voice sharp. She was done. Done with trying to explain, done with fighting what she was feeling. “I can’t. I—I just need to go. I need to be alone.”

With that, she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the room, leaving her friends standing there in stunned silence. The door shut behind her with a finality that seemed to echo in the stillness of the practice facility. Y/N’s steps were fast and purposeful as she made her way to the parking lot. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. She’d let Joe get too close, and it was like stepping into a fire she couldn’t control. The intensity, the chemistry—it was real, and it terrified her.

Every part of her wanted to shut it down, to keep everything locked up tight. She had worked so hard to keep her heart safe, to keep the walls around it intact. But somehow, Joe had found a way through, and now she wasn’t sure if she could rebuild them. She reached her car and practically threw herself inside, slamming the door shut as if that would somehow shield her from the whirlwind inside her head. She sat there for a few moments, hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes staring straight ahead.

“Why me?” she whispered to herself. Why did he have to make me feel this way? Her heart ached at the thought of him—his eyes, his smile, the way he had leaned in so close to her, the weight of his words still echoing in her mind. The intensity of everything between them was suffocating, but at the same time, it was intoxicating. She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that were spinning in her mind, but she couldn’t. She had to stop thinking about him. She couldn’t afford to feel anything for Joe, not when she knew it could all come crashing down.

With one last heavy sigh, Y/N started the engine, the sound of it roaring to life in the quiet evening. She pulled out of the parking lot, not looking back, not even once. But deep down, she knew that the more she tried to run from it, the more she would be drawn back to him. Because no matter how hard she tried to avoid it, one truth remained: Joe was never going to let her go.

Y/N’s apartment was silent as she slammed the door behind her, the sound of it echoing through the small space. She tossed her bag onto the couch, her movements sharp, filled with frustration. She stormed over to the kitchen, yanked open the fridge, and grabbed a bottle of water, needing something to calm her down, even if only for a moment. But the peace didn’t last long. As soon as she set the bottle down on the counter, her phone vibrated on the table, buzzing like it was trying to get her attention. It was Imani. Then Keisha. Then Imani again. The messages kept coming, rapid-fire, her screen lighting up with texts from her friends.

Imani: “Girl, what happened? You good?”

Keisha: “Are you ok? We can’t just let you walk out like that. What happened with Joe?”

Imani: “Y/N? Come on, talk to us. Did he say something? What the hell went down?”

Y/N’s jaw tightened as she read each message, a deep frown settling on her face. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. She tossed the phone back onto the counter, a rush of heat flooding her chest. Who the hell did Joe think he was?

Her hands balled into fists, her mind replaying the argument over and over. His words echoing in her head. “I’m serious about you.” “If this is all just a game to you, I’ll walk away.”

What kind of game did he think she was playing?

She had tried so hard to keep her walls up. So hard to protect herself from the kind of emotional mess that Joe was offering. She was smart enough to know better than to get involved with someone like him. He could have anyone. He was a star player, for god’s sake. He didn’t need someone like her—a mess of contradictions, someone who wasn’t ready to hand over her heart to anyone, let alone a guy who could turn her world upside down with just a look.

But he had gotten too close. That look in his eyes earlier, when he was serious—too serious—about wanting her, about making things real, had made her heart race in a way she wasn’t prepared for. She had tried to pull away, but the more she did, the more he seemed to push. And the worst part? She liked it. She hated how much she liked it.

Her thumb hovered over her phone, the temptation to text back gnawing at her. She could send something to calm them down, let them know she was fine. But she knew she wasn’t fine. She wasn’t even close to fine. Her chest tightened as she picked up her phone, her eyes scanning the screen one more time. What was he playing at? She dropped the phone back onto the counter, her breath shaky.

The truth was, she wasn’t mad about what he’d said, not really. She was mad because he had called her out on something she hadn’t even been brave enough to admit to herself. He had been right. She was avoiding it. Avoiding him. Because deep down, she was terrified. Terrified that if she let him in, if she let herself believe that maybe—maybe—there could be something between them, she’d lose control. She couldn’t lose control. She couldn’t let herself fall for him, not when she knew it would be the hardest thing she’d ever do.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of his presence, the way he had looked at her with so much intent. The way his eyes had burned into hers, telling her that he wasn’t going anywhere. That he wasn’t done with her yet. And for a brief, fleeting second, she almost wanted to let him. Almost. But she wasn’t ready to admit that. Not to herself, not to him, and certainly not to anyone else.

She turned away from her phone and walked over to the window, staring out at the fading light of the afternoon. Who did Joe think he was? And more importantly, who did she think she was kidding? She was already too deep. She had already let herself get too close. And if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t know how long she could keep running from it. But for now, she wasn’t ready to face it.

Not yet. With a sharp exhale, she grabbed her phone again and shut it off, tossing it onto the couch. She needed to think, to clear her head, even if it was for just a little while longer. But one thing was clear: this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Joe stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, watching as Y/N stormed off the field, her exit sharp and filled with anger. The adrenaline from the argument still pumped through his veins, but it wasn’t the same kind of rush he was used to. No, this was different. The anger that had flashed in her eyes, the frustration, it burned through him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

He had told her. He’d been clear. He wasn’t playing games anymore, not with her. He was serious about her. But that didn’t seem to make a damn bit of difference. If anything, it seemed to push her away further. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but she had left him with no choice. She was running from him. She was running from what was happening between them, and he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the distance between them, couldn’t stand the way she was trying to pretend like none of this mattered.

“Why are you avoiding this, Y/N?” He had asked her that, and she had snapped back at him, denying it. But he knew better. He saw the way she held back, the way she tried to keep him at arm’s length. And he knew it wasn’t because of some game. No. She was scared. She was scared of getting hurt, of letting him in, and that hurt him more than he cared to admit. His thoughts swirled, and the tension in his chest only grew the longer he stood there. He hated the way she shut down every time he tried to get close. He hated that she was trying to act like she didn’t want this, didn’t want him.

What the hell had happened between them? The whole thing had started so damn easily—some playful teasing, some heated looks, and then bam, he was tangled up in her. He couldn’t even remember how they’d gotten here. All he knew was that it didn’t feel like a game anymore. Not for him. And damn it, it shouldn’t have felt like a game for her either.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing across the field as the sun dipped lower in the sky, the fading light casting long shadows. The anger had faded to something deeper now—something more painful. Frustration. It was all bottled up inside him, and the only person who could let him get it out was standing right there in front of him. But she had walked away. She’d stormed off, leaving him here, wondering if he had pushed too hard. Wondering if he had said the wrong thing.

Damn it, Joe, what the hell did you expect? He knew what he wanted. He wanted her. He had wanted her for so long now, but he hadn’t been able to push past the walls she kept up around herself. She was so guarded, and for what? He wasn’t going anywhere. He was serious about this. But she didn’t seem to believe him, didn’t seem to trust him, and that pissed him off in a way he hadn’t expected. He had made it clear, damn it. He had made it clear that he wasn’t some guy who was just playing around with her. He wasn’t just looking for a quick fling or some easy distraction. He had told her—he wanted more.

But she wouldn’t let him in. And that hurt more than he wanted to admit. With a frustrated grunt, he turned and headed back to the locker room. His mind was still racing, his heart still pounding in his chest, but he had no idea how to fix this. He couldn’t just let it go, not when things had gotten so complicated. Not when the feelings between them were so undeniable.

What the hell was she so afraid of? He knew she had feelings for him. He could see it in the way she looked at him, in the way her breath hitched when he got close. But every time he tried to close the gap between them, she pulled away. He wasn’t sure if it was her own fear or something else. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to give up on this. Not now. Not after everything they had shared.

As he entered the locker room, the noise of the guys chatting, laughing, and going about their business felt distant. It was like there was this thick barrier between him and everything else. All he could think about was Y/N. Her storming off. The anger on her face. The way she refused to let herself feel. He wanted to break through that barrier. He wanted to make her understand that he was real, that they were real.

But first, he needed to figure out what the hell was going on inside of her. It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. He wasn’t about to let her walk away without giving this one last shot.

And this time, he was going to make sure she knew it.

Tee and Ja'Marr exchanged a look as soon as they saw Joe walk into the locker room. The change in his demeanor was impossible to ignore. Normally, Joe was all swagger and confidence, always cracking jokes and leading the charge. But today? He was different. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes distant, and he had that familiar tension in his jaw that they both knew too well. Something was off, and they could tell it had nothing to do with practice.

Tee, ever the perceptive one, was the first to speak up. “Yo, Joe. You good, man?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with concern. Joe barely looked up, his eyes focused on his phone as he scrolled absently. He didn’t even bother to respond right away, which was enough to send a signal to both Tee and Ja'Marr. Something was definitely bothering him.

Ja'Marr, who had been silently observing, leaned against the lockers with a casual smirk. “Come on, bro. You’re giving us that ‘I’m fine, don’t talk to me’ vibe, and we both know that’s never a good sign.” Joe glanced up at them for a split second, then sighed. His fingers ran through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots, and that was all the invitation they needed.

“You wanna talk about it?” Tee asked gently. “We know you’re not one to spill, but you look like you need to get something off your chest.” Joe hesitated, then shrugged like it was nothing. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” But the words felt hollow even to him.

Ja'Marr didn’t buy it. He nudged Tee and nodded toward the corner of the locker room where a ball had been left lying around. “Man, you know the drill. Grab the ball. Let’s take him to the field. Get him out of here for a bit.” Tee grinned, already picking up the football and tossing it lightly between his hands. “Come on, bro. We both know you can’t lie to us for long. You’re not getting away that easy.” Joe shot him a sharp look, but it lacked the usual fire. He wanted to brush it off. He really did. But there was something about having Tee and Ja'Marr around, the way they knew him so well, that made him feel like maybe it was time to talk. They weren’t going to let him bottle it up.

With a heavy sigh, Joe grabbed his own gear and walked out with the two of them, heading to the practice field where the evening light was beginning to dip lower in the sky. The quiet of the field made it easier for him to breathe, to clear his head, away from the noise and chaos of the locker room. The trio settled on the sideline, the familiar smell of fresh grass and the quiet hum of the facility surrounding them. Tee tossed Joe the football, and the rhythmic sound of the ball thudding against Joe's hands was the only noise for a moment. He threw it back and forth with Ja'Marr, but the entire time, his mind kept wandering back to Y/N.

Finally, after a long pause, Ja'Marr spoke, his tone serious. “You know we’re not gonna let you keep this shit inside forever, right?” Joe threw the ball harder than he meant to, the force sending it spiraling off toward the corner of the field, but he didn’t care. The frustration that had been building inside of him needed to be released. He stood there for a moment, watching the ball bounce across the grass.

“I don’t know what to do with her, man,” Joe muttered, his voice low. Tee and Ja'Marr exchanged knowing glances. They had both suspected it. They had seen the way Joe’s eyes lit up when he talked about Y/N, and how he always found excuses to be near her, whether it was during practice or after hours. But they’d also seen the tension, the push and pull between them.

“You’ve been saying you’re serious about her,” Tee said softly, dribbling the ball between his fingers. “But it looks like she’s not on the same page. What happened?” Joe’s gaze dropped to the ground, his frustration palpable. “She… she’s scared. I can see it. Every time I try to push her closer, she pulls back. She’s running from this… from me.” Ja'Marr leaned back, taking a deep breath. “You can’t make her give in, Joe. That’s the thing. You want to be serious, but she has to want it too. If she’s not ready, if she’s not feeling the same way—then you’ve gotta give her space. Not make her feel like she’s got no choice but to jump in.”

Joe kicked the dirt with the toe of his cleats. “I know. But I can’t help it. The more she pulls away, the more I want to make her see how real this is. I’m not just playing around with her, but damn if it doesn’t feel like she thinks I am. It’s like… like I’m losing her before I even get a chance.” Tee caught the ball, throwing it lightly to Ja'Marr. “Bro, you gotta stop trying to fix it all in one go. You’re pushing too hard. If you really want this with her, you need to slow down and let her come to you on her own terms. She’s been hurt before, hasn’t she?”

Joe nodded, the truth hanging heavy between them. “Yeah, she has. But that’s not my fault, is it? I’m not like those other guys.” Ja'Marr shook his head. “No, you’re not. But sometimes it’s hard to believe that when someone’s been burned a few times already. You can’t just tell her you’re different—you gotta show her.”

There was silence for a moment, and Joe just stared off into the distance. The cool breeze ruffled his hair as he processed his friends' words. He knew they were right. He knew he couldn’t keep pushing. But it wasn’t easy. Not when everything inside of him told him that Y/N was worth fighting for. “I just don’t want to lose her,” Joe finally admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “I feel like we’re so close, but she’s... she’s not letting me in. And I don’t know how to get past that.”

Tee put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “You’ll get there, man. Just take it one step at a time. Don’t try to rush it. If she’s meant to be with you, she’ll get there too. But you’ve gotta show her you’re worth it.” Joe nodded, his chest heavy but his resolve strengthening. He wasn’t ready to give up on Y/N. Not now. Not ever. He just needed to figure out how to break through her walls without pushing her further away. As they threw the ball back and forth in the fading light, Joe felt a little clearer, a little more grounded. It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But this time, he knew he had to do it right.

Joe sat in his office at home, the late afternoon light casting long shadows across his desk. His laptop sat open in front of him, but he wasn’t even looking at the screen anymore. His mind kept circling back to Y/N. The conversation they’d had earlier still felt like it was echoing in his head, the words lingering, pulling at him, making his chest tight. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the papers in front of him without seeing them. How had they gotten here? Why had it all turned into this? He didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know where to start. The tension between them was suffocating, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to break through whatever wall she had built up.

The sound of his phone ringing pulled him out of his thoughts. He glanced down at the screen and saw his mom’s name pop up. A small smile tugged at his lips. Robin always had a way of knowing when something was off, and maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to talk him through it. “Hey, Mom,” Joe answered, trying to keep his voice steady. “Hey, baby,” Robin’s warm voice came through, the tone light, but with a hint of concern. “How’s everything going? How was practice?”

Joe slumped back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was alright. You know, the usual.” Robin was quiet for a moment, and Joe could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. She knew him better than anyone, could tell when something was wrong, even over the phone. After a beat, she sighed softly, a sound that spoke volumes. “Alright, out with it,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. Joe froze, her words hitting him like a wave. He hesitated, then let out a long breath, running his fingers over the edge of his desk as he tried to gather his thoughts. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to play it off, but even he knew it was a weak attempt.

Robin didn’t bite. “You know exactly what I mean, Joe. I can tell when something’s on your mind. And I know my son. So come on, spill it.” Joe chuckled softly, though it didn’t carry any real amusement. “You really know me too well, huh?” His mom let out a light laugh of her own, but then it softened, and he could feel the concern coming through in her voice. “You’re not yourself right now, and I can tell it’s more than just practice. So, what’s going on? Is it something with the team, or is it something... personal?”

Joe’s chest tightened. Of course she would know. She always did. He rubbed his eyes, trying to find the right words. He couldn’t keep hiding it from her. “Mom, it’s... it’s this girl I’ve been seeing,” Joe started, the words feeling strange on his tongue. He’d never really talked to her about anything like this before. “Her name’s Y/N. And I—I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and then Robin’s voice softened. “Tell me what happened, baby.” Joe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he let out a deep breath. “We’ve been talking for a while, and I thought things were going well, but today… today it all just blew up. We were on the field after practice, and I tried to talk to her. I’ve been serious about her, Mom, and I told her that. I don’t want to play games anymore. But she... she just... snapped. She said I was pushing too hard, that I was avoiding it, and it turned into this big argument.”

Robin’s voice was soft, but there was understanding in it. “What do you mean by ‘pushing too hard,’ Joe?” Joe let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair again. “I don’t know. I’m serious about her, Mom. I want to make this work. But she keeps pulling away. Every time I try to get closer, she shuts down. And it’s like, the more I try, the more she backs off. I don’t know if she’s scared or if she’s just not ready, but it’s driving me crazy. I feel like I’m losing her before I even really had a chance to have her, you know?”

He could hear Robin taking in everything he was saying, her silence thoughtful. Then, after a moment, she spoke again. “Joe, you’ve got to understand something. You can’t force someone to feel something they’re not ready to feel. You’re pushing her, I get that, but maybe she’s not ready to let you in fully. And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you—it just means she’s not where you are yet. Maybe she’s scared too.”

Joe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, but why me, Mom? Why would she be scared of me? I’m not some player. I’m not like the other guys she’s been with. I want this. I want her. So why is she pulling away?” Robin’s voice was gentle but firm, like she was trying to make him see something he was missing. “Because you’re different. And sometimes, different can be scary. You’re a big deal, Joe. You’re used to people falling for you, admiring you, but that doesn’t mean Y/N will be ready to just dive into something with you without hesitation. She’s probably scared of how real it feels, because maybe, just maybe, she knows this could be the real deal. And it terrifies her. The closer you get, the harder it becomes to keep those walls up.”

Joe stared out the window, the quiet of his office filling the space between his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of what she was saying. “But I don’t want to lose her, Mom. I don’t want to mess this up. I think she’s it. I think she’s the one. But I don’t know how to make her see that.” Robin’s voice softened again, filled with warmth and love. “You don’t need to rush it, Joe. If she’s the one, she’ll see that. But you’ve got to give her the space to come to that conclusion on her own. Love isn’t something you can force. It’s something you have to nurture, let it grow naturally. If you’re meant to be with her, you will be. But pushing her will only make her pull further away.”

Joe let out a long breath, feeling a little bit lighter but still burdened by the weight of the situation. “Yeah… you’re right. I guess I just wish it didn’t have to be so hard.” Robin chuckled softly. “Love isn’t always easy, honey. But it’s worth it, when it’s the real thing. And from what I can tell, you care about her a lot. That’s a good start.” Joe smiled faintly, his heart a little less heavy than before. “Thanks, Mom. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, baby,” Robin replied warmly. “Just take it slow. Give her time. And whatever happens, I’m here for you.” Joe let out another breath, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. “Thanks. I’ll figure it out.” As he hung up the phone, he leaned back in his chair, thoughts swirling. Maybe he didn’t have all the answers yet, but he was starting to understand what he needed to do. He wouldn’t give up on Y/N, but he had to be patient. He had to let her come to him, not force it. If she was the one—he had to trust that she’d see it too.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Y/N was curled up on the couch, a plate of takeout in her lap and a bottle of soda by her side as she watched Baddies Midwest. Her brain had been on autopilot all day, trying to distract herself from the chaos in her mind. Every time she thought about what had happened earlier, her chest tightened. Joe’s words kept echoing in her head, and she hated how much they affected her. She had been trying to avoid thinking about him, but it was impossible.

Just as a particularly dramatic moment unfolded on screen, the sound of someone pounding on her door broke through her thoughts. She paused the TV, exhaling sharply before dragging herself off the couch. As she opened the door, she wasn’t surprised to see Imani and Keisha standing there, both with their own bags of takeout in hand, clearly ready to settle in for an impromptu hangout.

Before she could even greet them, they brushed past her, barging into the apartment like they owned the place. “What the hell?” Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes as she closed the door behind them. “What are you two doing here?” Imani shot her a look, hands on her hips, her voice dripping with sass. “Don’t think you can just ignore us or snap at us whenever you feel like it,” she said, her tone firm, but tinged with concern. “We’re here because we’re your best friends, Y/N. So don’t even try to act like you’re fine, because we know you’re not.”

Keisha plopped down on the couch with an exaggerated sigh, tearing open her bag of food. “Yeah, girl. You didn’t even let us know what was going on. We’re not just some side pieces you can push around when you get pissed.” Y/N stood there, caught somewhere between exasperation and guilt. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened—she didn’t even know where to begin. But the way they were looking at her, the way they cared, made her heart twist in her chest.

“Seriously?” Y/N snapped, trying to keep her voice steady, though she couldn’t hide the trace of frustration. “I don’t need a lecture from you two right now.” Imani wasn’t backing down. She set her bag down on the counter with purpose and turned to face Y/N. “Oh, trust me, you do need one. Now sit your ass down and tell us what happened today. You stormed off the field like a damn tornado. What got your panties in such a twist, huh?” Y/N bit her lip, momentarily looking away. The anger was still there, bubbling under the surface, but now it felt a little more complicated than just being mad at Joe. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to admit that she had been caught up in something she didn’t know how to handle.

Y/N stared at Imani and Keisha, feeling the weight of their expectant gazes. They weren’t going to let this go until they got the full story, and she knew it. Sighing, she dropped her shoulders and slumped back against the couch, looking at the ceiling. She needed to say something, but she wasn’t sure how to even begin. “Okay, fine,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “So, Joe and I were talking on the field earlier today, and he... he said he’s serious about me. Like, he wants something real. He said all that, like it’s no big deal, and I—I just couldn't handle it. I freaked out.”

Imani’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward, ready to pounce on the explanation, but Y/N wasn't done. “He was asking about... us. And I didn’t know what to say. I tried to keep it casual, tried to play it cool, but he kept pushing. And I—I just couldn’t. I wasn’t ready for him to be so serious about it, and I...” Y/N trailed off, swallowing the lump that was suddenly in her throat. “I ran. I didn’t know what else to do.” Before she could continue, Imani cut her off, her voice thick with disbelief. “So you ran off while that hunk of a man is trying to love you? For why, Y/N?” She shook her head, pressing a hand to her forehead dramatically. “Girl, you know darn well that if he wasn’t serious about you, he would've dropped you the night you two kissed and it didn’t lead anywhere. But he didn’t, Y/N. He stayed. He’s still here. And you’re pushing him away?”

Y/N shook her head quickly, a frown tugging at her lips as she tried to defend herself. “It’s not that simple. You don’t get it,” she said, her voice low but insistent. “There’s more to it than just him being serious. I have a lot of things I need to figure out. I don’t know what he really wants from me, and honestly, I don’t even know what I want from him.” Keisha didn’t let up. “How isn’t it simple, Y/N? The both of you are so into each other. I mean, I can feel the tension when you two are together. You’re always making eye contact, always finding ways to be near each other. And don’t even try to say it’s just friendly because it’s not. You can see it in the way you both act. So why not let it happen? Why fight it?”

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest. She didn’t want to go down this path, didn’t want to dredge up the painful memories that had shaped so much of who she was. But with her best friends sitting in front of her, waiting for the truth, she knew it was time to finally let them in. Time to share the part of her that she had kept locked away, the part that had shaped her into the person she had become. "You guys know what happened between Trey and I," Y/N began, her voice quiet but steady. She could feel the familiar knot in her throat as she spoke his name.

Trey and Y/N had been inseparable since middle school. They were the kind of couple that everyone admired—young love, full of hope and promise. By the time they graduated high school, they had already started planning their future together. Trey had already proposed to Y/N the year before, and they had been making arrangements for their wedding that was supposed to take place that year. They had talked about growing old together, about buying a house somewhere quiet and beautiful where they could spend their days, watching their grandkids run around the yard. Y/N had always imagined herself with him, hand in hand, for the rest of her life.

Trey had been her first everything—the first person she truly loved, the first person she trusted completely, the first person to make her feel like she had found her soulmate. He was the one who had shown her what real love was, the one who had shaped her understanding of what it meant to be cared for and cherished. They had been through it all together—high school, graduation, the dreams of a shared future. Their love had always felt like it was written in the stars.

He had been her first love, her first kiss, her first real sense of belonging with someone. They had spent their teenage years daydreaming about their future, planning for a life that felt like it was already written. They had never doubted it—they were going to be together, no matter what life threw their way. Their bond felt unbreakable. Trey had been everything to her: her partner, her best friend, the person who knew her more deeply than anyone else ever could. Y/N had always believed that they would grow old together, laugh about their high school memories when they were older, and maybe even travel the world one day. But, of course, life doesn’t always go as planned. Trey was taken from her in a flash—shot dead in a senseless act of violence. It wasn’t anything that made sense, no good explanation, no reason that could bring any comfort. It wasn’t a gang-related incident or a targeted attack—it was just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught in the crossfire of a violent world that didn’t care. Trey’s death shattered Y/N in a way nothing else ever could.

The heartbreak was unlike anything she had ever known. She had been ready to spend the rest of her life with him, ready to walk down the aisle and start their family. Now, all of those dreams seemed impossible, and Y/N was left picking up the pieces of a future that no longer existed. Trey had been her first everything, and the idea of losing that kind of love, the kind of connection she had with him, was something she couldn't fathom.

It’s been three years since that day. Three long years of pretending to move on, of holding it together in front of everyone, while inside, she still felt like she was drowning in grief. On the surface, she had rebuilt her life. She kept busy with work, with friends, and kept herself occupied with everything except what she really needed to face—the pain. But deep down, she couldn’t let go. The walls she had put up after Trey’s death were still there, fortified and unbreakable. She hadn’t let herself open up to anyone else, not in the way she had with him. Because how could she? How could she let herself love again when she had lost the one person who meant everything to her? She was terrified of feeling that kind of loss again—of giving her heart away and having it ripped from her just like before.

And now, with Joe, all those feelings, all those fears, were surfacing again. The attraction, the pull she felt toward him—it was undeniable. But the idea of getting too close to him, of allowing herself to fall for him, terrified her. Because what if she lost him too? How could she risk that again? How could she trust that someone could love her the way Trey had? She didn’t know if she was strong enough to face that kind of hurt a second time.

Imani and Keisha sat there, quiet and attentive, watching as Y/N’s tears began to form, threatening to fall. She wiped them away quickly, not wanting to give in to the raw emotion building inside of her. Keisha reached out and placed a hand on her friend’s arm, her voice gentle but firm. “Y/N, I can’t even imagine what that pain must’ve been like. Losing someone you loved like that...” Her words trailed off as she squeezed Y/N’s arm, offering a silent comfort. “But that’s not all,” Y/N said, shaking her head as if to dismiss the weight of her past. “There’s something else. It’s the fact that I’m five years younger than Joe. He’s this big, successful guy—he’s got everything going for him, and I... I’m just me. I don’t want him to look at me one day and realize I’m not enough, that I can’t give him what he deserves. That I’m too young, too inexperienced, too broken for him to actually want to be with me.”

Imani opened her mouth to speak, but Y/N raised her hand, halting her. She needed to say it all, to let it all out before it suffocated her. “I’m scared, okay?” Y/N’s voice cracked. “I’m scared that if Joe gets too close, really close, and he sees who I am, the real me, the broken pieces of me... he won’t want me. And I’m terrified that life is just going to rip him away from me the same way it ripped Trey away. Just... just like that. Gone. And I don’t know if I can go through that again. I don’t know if I can love someone else and have that be taken from me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she tried to hold back the sobs that were threatening to break free. But it was too much. She couldn’t stop it anymore. The dam she’d built to hold back the pain, the grief, and the fear was finally breaking, and she let the tears fall freely, not caring how vulnerable she was in front of her friends. Imani and Keisha didn’t say a word at first. They just wrapped their arms around her, pulling her close as she sobbed into their shoulders. Keisha rubbed her back softly, while Imani whispered comforting words into her ear, both of them offering the support Y/N had so desperately needed but hadn’t known how to ask for.

“You don’t have to carry this all alone, Y/N,” Keisha murmured. “We’re here for you, no matter what.” Imani nodded, her voice soft and understanding. “You’re allowed to be scared, Y/N. But you don’t have to shut everyone out. Especially Joe. You’re not broken. You’re just hurting, and that’s okay. He’s not going to run. Not if he’s really serious about you. And I think... I think he is.” Y/N sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she pulled away slightly to look at her friends. “But what if he isn’t? What if I give him everything, and he still leaves? I can’t handle that. I can’t go through that again.”

Imani looked her square in the eye, her gaze firm but full of love. “You don’t know unless you let yourself be open to it. But I know Joe. And he wouldn’t be pushing this if he wasn’t all in. He wants you, Y/N. And you deserve that.” Y/N bit her lip, trying to hold it together. She didn’t want to be this vulnerable. She didn’t want to let anyone see how much fear had been eating away at her. But in this moment, surrounded by the people who loved her, she realized how much she was holding back from herself—and how much she was missing by not letting Joe in.

She let out a shaky breath, wiping her eyes again. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, the weight of it all pressing on her chest. “I want to be with him. But I’m scared.” Keisha smiled softly, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “It’s okay to be scared. But don’t let that fear stop you from having something real. Something good. You deserve that, Y/N. Don’t push him away. You’ve been through enough. Let someone love you, let someone in.”

Y/N shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "I know you both mean well, but you don’t understand. How do I let someone else in when I’m still haunted by the fear of losing them? How do I open up to Joe when I’m scared that life is just going to take him away too, just like it took Trey? What if I let him get too close, and something happens? What if history repeats itself?" Her voice cracked on the last sentence, and the tears started to flow again, this time uncontrollably. She quickly wiped them away, her breath shallow, trying to calm herself.

Imani and Keisha didn’t push her to stop. They were there, ready to listen, ready to support her through this moment of vulnerability. Keisha placed a hand on Y/N’s, her grip firm and reassuring. "You don’t have to be scared, Y/N. It’s not the same. Joe isn’t Trey. And yeah, you’ve been through hell, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have something real. Something good. He’s not going anywhere unless you push him away. And I don’t think you want to do that."

Y/N looked down at Keisha’s hand on hers, the warmth of her touch grounding her, reminding her that she wasn’t alone in this. Imani leaned in as well, her voice gentle but insistent. "Joe cares about you, Y/N. We can see it, even if you’re too scared to admit it. He’s not like Trey. You’re not going to lose him if you let him in. You’re stronger than you think, and you deserve the chance to have something real. You deserve to let yourself love again."

Y/N closed her eyes, fighting the wave of emotions that threatened to drown her. She didn’t know if she was ready to take that leap, to let Joe in and risk everything. But at that moment, with her friends by her side, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she could try. Maybe it was time to let go of the past, to stop letting fear control her heart. Y/N wipes her eyes and sighs deeply, trying to collect her thoughts as she looks up at Imani and Keisha. She knows they’re waiting for her to say something else, to open up more, but for now, she just needs a break. She can’t keep talking about Joe and her feelings; she’s not ready to process everything yet.

“I think... I just need space,” Y/N says quietly, almost as if saying it aloud makes it more real. Her voice is soft, but the weight of her words hangs heavily in the air. Imani and Keisha exchange a glance, both of them clearly not satisfied with the answer, but neither of them press it. They know Y/N, and they know when she’s not ready to talk. It’s clear she’s struggling with something deep, but they also understand that pushing her won’t help.

Imani shrugs, leaning back into the couch with a sigh. “Alright, we won’t push it,” she says, a little resigned, but she can’t hide the concern in her eyes. Keisha nods in agreement. “We’re here for you, always. Just... take the time you need.” Y/N offers them a small smile, thankful for their understanding. She’s lucky to have friends like them—friends who get it. But even with them there, she still feels like she’s carrying a heavy weight. The conversation with Joe earlier replays in her mind, over and over again, and the knot in her chest tightens with every thought.

Imani, clearly sensing the need to lighten the mood, grabs the remote from the coffee table and presses play. “Alright, enough of the heavy stuff. Let’s just watch some Baddies Midwest and eat our food. We need to get our mind off all this drama.” As the show resumes, the loud chatter of reality TV and the girls' lighthearted banter fills the space around them. Imani picks up her takeout, grinning. “Honestly, I can't believe these people. How are they that messy?” she says, shaking her head as she digs into her food.

Keisha laughs, joining in on the gossiping. “I know, right? That one chick, Summer—girl, how do you go on TV and act like that? My mother would’ve dragged me for days if I ever pulled something like that.” Y/N can’t help but chuckle, the sound a little foreign to her after the emotional weight of earlier. It feels good to just let her mind wander to something lighter for once. The familiar, easy banter of her best friends helps ease the tension in her chest, even if just a little. She takes a bite of her own takeout, not really tasting it but savoring the moment of normalcy.

For a while, the three of them simply sit there, eating and talking about everything and nothing—random gossip, the latest trends, who’s dating who, and all the silly things they would normally laugh about. It’s comforting, the way they fall back into their old rhythm, like nothing’s changed. But deep down, Y/N knows it has. There’s a shift in her heart, and she’s unsure of how to deal with it. But for now, at least, she has her friends. And maybe that’s all she needs to hold on to for a little while longer.

—

The soft hum of the TV in the background did little to soothe Y/N’s racing thoughts. She had called in sick to work this morning, her supervisor understanding, but Y/N could tell the words that passed her lips were just an excuse. The truth was, she just needed a day. A day to breathe, to sort through the chaos inside her head. Curled up in a blanket on the couch, the soft fabric tangled around her legs as she let herself sink deeper into the cushions. She wasn’t watching anything on the TV—Baddies Midwest long forgotten. Her mind, as it often did when the world went quiet, wandered back to Trey.

It was the same thoughts, the same memories that had played on a loop for the past three years since his death. Trey’s laugh, his eyes lighting up when he’d talk about their future. The plans they made together, the promises they’d shared, all those dreams of getting old together and watching their grandkids run around a house they’d build together one day. She could almost feel him beside her now, as if he was there, his voice in the back of her mind like it had never left. But that same voice now tangled with another. Joe. Joe, who had come into her life like a storm, unexpectedly, irresistibly. So different from Trey, yet in some ways, so similar. Both had a way of making her feel like she was the only person in the room, their presence enough to make her feel seen, heard.

It was this that unsettled her. How was it possible for Joe to feel so familiar, yet so new at the same time? She had shut herself off from anyone else after Trey, afraid of feeling vulnerable again, of opening herself up to someone just to watch them be taken away. But now, with Joe, it was different. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but the pull she felt toward him was undeniable. And then, the thought came again, the one she had been trying to push away but couldn’t. How would Trey feel if I moved on?

Her chest tightened as the question hung in the air. Trey had been her first everything—her first love, her first kiss, the person who had promised her forever. Could she betray him like that? Could she even allow herself to love someone else? Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she bit her lip, trying to fight them back. She hadn’t let herself cry over Trey in a long time. Not like this. Not with such raw pain that felt just as fresh as the day he was gone.

She closed her eyes, imagining what Trey would say if he were here. He would probably tell her to live. To be happy. He’d want her to move forward, to not hold onto the past forever. Trey had been the type of person who would want her to find love again, to experience all the things she deserved to. But the fear lingered. Fear of forgetting him. Fear of betraying him by letting someone else in.

A deep sigh escaped her, and Y/N sat up, pushing the blanket off her shoulders. She needed to do something, anything, to get her mind off of all the heavy emotions. She couldn’t keep spiraling like this. Her phone buzzed beside her on the coffee table. She looked down at the screen, seeing a message from Imani: “Are you okay? You haven’t answered us today. We’re here if you need to talk.”

Y/N’s finger hovered over the message, but she didn’t respond. Not yet. Not while her heart felt like it was in pieces. Not when the weight of Trey and Joe was pressing down on her in ways she didn’t know how to handle. Instead, she set her phone down, sinking back into the couch again. Maybe tomorrow she’d have more clarity. Maybe tomorrow, the confusion would settle. But for now, all she could do was sit with it—the memories, the fear, and the love she was so scared to let in again.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Joe stood on the field, surrounded by the usual hustle and bustle of practice, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. His gaze kept drifting toward the sidelines where Imani and Keisha usually stood, but there was no sign of Y/N. His heart dropped with a quiet heaviness that seemed to settle deep in his chest. She hadn’t been there when practice started, and she was still nowhere to be found.

He tried to push the thoughts away, telling himself it was just one day. She could’ve had her reasons. Maybe she just needed space. But even as he thought it, a knot of guilt tightened in his stomach. He knew deep down that he’d messed up. His words from the day before echoed in his mind, each one heavier than the last. Had he pushed her too far? Had he made her feel like she couldn’t trust him with her heart? He glanced at Imani and Keisha again, hoping one of them would catch his eye. Maybe they’d give him some sign of what was going on, but they were just as lost as he was. They had the same concerned looks on their faces, the same unease that seemed to hover in the air.

As practice continued, Joe found himself unable to focus. His movements were slower than usual, his throws less accurate. The other players were giving him looks, and Coach even pulled him aside for a quick chat to make sure everything was okay, but Joe just nodded, barely hearing the words. His mind was consumed by one thought: Where was Y/N? He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her eyes, the way they’d flickered with something raw and vulnerable yesterday, the way she’d walked away from him. He could still hear the snap in her voice when she’d yelled at him. The anger and pain mixed together, and it had left a hole in his chest. He wanted to apologize, wanted to explain that he was serious about her—that he wasn’t playing games, and he wasn’t going anywhere. But now, after the way he’d handled things, he wasn’t sure if she even wanted to hear him out.

The rest of practice felt like a blur. Joe's mind was elsewhere—on her. The weight of what had happened yesterday was starting to feel unbearable, and the more he tried to focus on the drills, the worse it got. He couldn't push the thoughts aside anymore. His chest ached with the fear that maybe she wouldn’t come back, maybe this thing between them was already over before it ever really had the chance to start.

By the time practice finally ended, Joe was more exhausted mentally than physically. He trudged off the field with the rest of the team, but his head was in a different place entirely. He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Y/N’s name. Should I text her? Should I give her space? His fingers hesitated, uncertainty weighing heavily on him. But in the end, he couldn’t stand it. He needed to know if she was okay. He shot off a quick text, hoping she’d respond, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t going to fix the mess he’d made. What if she didn’t want to hear from him? What if she was done?

His chest tightened at the thought. I can't lose her before I've even had the chance to prove I’m not like the others… He sank down on the nearest bench, running his hand through his hair, staring blankly at the empty field in front of him. I’ve got to fix this, he thought. I can't just let her walk away. As practice wrapped up, Joe was one of the first players to leave the field. His body moved on autopilot, his mind still tangled in a mess of worry, frustration, and guilt. Every step he took felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the silence that had lingered between him and Y/N since she stormed off yesterday.

He couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing what was going on with her, of not being able to fix things. He needed to hear it from someone—needed to know she was okay. His eyes scanned the facility as he walked toward the equipment room, the noise of his teammates fading in the background as his thoughts consumed him. When he reached the equipment room, he saw Imani and Keisha sorting through spare jerseys, their heads down as they chatted quietly. They looked up when they heard him approach, and for a split second, both of their faces shifted, an unreadable look passing between them.

Joe swallowed hard, his voice unsteady when he spoke. “Is she okay? Y/N, I mean…” Imani and Keisha exchanged another glance before Imani finally broke the silence. She sighed, leaning against the counter with a soft shake of her head. “She’s okay. We basically had to break her down and make her talk. But she’s… she’s working through things, Joe. She just needs time.”

Joe let out a breath, relief and anxiety mixing together in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure if he could take hearing that she needed time, but at least it meant she wasn’t shutting him out completely. Keisha, who had been quietly observing him, stepped closer, her hand gently resting on his tense shoulder. “Joe, she just needs space. It’s been a lot, especially these past few weeks. Between you two, all the back and forth, the tension. It’s a lot for anyone to handle. But I promise, she’s not going anywhere. She has feelings for you, but she just needs to sort through them. Give her time.”

Joe closed his eyes, his jaw clenched. He nodded slowly, though his frustration and worry hadn’t quite eased. “I just don’t want to lose her before we even get the chance to really figure this out.” His voice was low, vulnerable. He could feel the weight of it in his chest. Imani’s gaze softened, and she took a step forward, her expression filled with understanding. “Joe, we see it. Hell, even the space station could see it. How much you care, how much you feel for her. It’s not going unnoticed.” She paused, her tone turning serious. “But you’ve got to let her work through this at her pace. And if you really care about her like we know you do, you’ll wait. Give her the space she needs. It’s the only way this will work.”

Joe’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to nod again. He couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes with Y/N. The last thing he wanted was to drive her further away. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice low but sincere. “I just... I don’t want to screw this up.” Keisha gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, a soft smile on her face. “You won’t. Just be patient. She’ll come around when she’s ready.” With that, Joe offered a small, grateful nod, before turning to leave the equipment room. His mind still raced, but there was a sense of relief that washed over him. He wasn’t losing her—not yet. But he knew that if they were going to make it, he had to be patient. He had to give her the time she needed to heal, to trust him. But no matter how long it took, Joe knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to fight for her, even if it meant waiting as long as it took.

As Joe walked out of the equipment room, the weight of the conversation lingered in the air. His thoughts remained tangled around Y/N, but this time, there was a sliver of hope. He wasn't going to give up on her, not after everything they'd shared and everything that was left unsaid. But he had to be patient. He had to let her come to him when she was ready, and he had to prove to her that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He grabbed his gym bag from his locker, the motions automatic, his mind still clouded with worry. Despite what Keisha and Imani had said, he couldn’t help but feel like he had done something wrong—like he had pushed her too hard too fast. It wasn’t like Y/N to just walk away like that, and the thought of losing her gnawed at him. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel like she couldn’t trust him. Joe was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely noticed the group of guys starting to head out for the night. He gave them a quick nod, but his mind was elsewhere, still replaying the argument from the day before. Still wondering if there was something he could have done differently.

The drive home felt longer than usual, the silence in the car almost suffocating. Joe turned on the radio, but the music did little to ease the heaviness in his chest. All he could think about was Y/N, sitting alone in her apartment, no doubt replaying everything in her head the same way he was. As soon as he got home, he threw his keys on the counter and walked into his living room, collapsing onto the couch. His phone was buzzing in his pocket, but he ignored it for a while, his fingers tapping on his knee anxiously. He wasn’t ready for another text from her yet—not until he knew how to fix things. But after a moment, he couldn’t resist anymore.

His gaze fixed on his phone, finger hovering over Y/N’s contact. He knew deep down that calling her now wouldn’t help. She needed space. He needed to give her that. But God, the ache in his chest wasn’t going away, no matter how much he tried to distract himself. He sighed in frustration, his finger still unmoving, as if somehow he could summon the courage to hit send. The longer he stared at the screen, the more he could feel the weight of her absence. He could hear her voice in his mind, could still recall the warmth of her laughter, the way she looked at him like she wanted to say something but held back. She was never fully open with him, and that scared him. But what scared him more was the possibility that she was slipping away entirely.

He couldn’t shake the thought that they were on opposite ends of the universe now. Sure, they’d shared moments that felt too real to ignore, but the walls she’d built up around herself were impossible to breach. She was so guarded. He hated how much he felt like an outsider in her life. Joe let out another sigh, one more frustrated than the last. He couldn’t fix it by just waiting. He couldn’t fix it by moping around either. The thought of losing her—of never getting a chance to make things right—sent a jolt of panic through him. He didn’t want to be another ghost in her past. He didn’t want to be that guy who faded into the background when it got hard.

But how was he supposed to fix this? How could he prove to her that he wasn’t like the others? That he didn’t just want a fling, that he wanted her—all of her, the good and the messy parts? His hand dropped to his side, fingers brushing against the fabric of the couch as he let the phone slip from his grasp. He wanted to call her, to make everything right in one fell swoop. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. She needed time. She needed to trust him. And until then, he’d just have to wait. The thought felt like a heavy stone in his chest. Time. Would it be enough? Would she come back to him, or had he already let her slip through his fingers?

Joe stared at the phone one last time, wishing there was an easy answer. But the truth was, he had no idea what came next. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready to let go—not yet. Joe pulled out his phone, his gaze lingering on the screen as his thumb scrolled through the messages. Each one seemed to amplify the weight pressing down on his chest, making him feel even more suffocated. The overwhelming silence from Y/N was eating at him. He hadn’t heard from her since their argument, and as much as he tried to distract himself, his mind kept drifting back to her, to the conversation they’d had, to the things left unsaid.

His thumb hovered over a message from Ja'Marr, his best friend, one of the few people who could always tell when something was wrong without Joe saying a word. Ja'Marr had always been perceptive, especially when it came to Joe’s emotions. "Yo, you good? You’ve been off all day. You wanna come out with me and Tee tonight? Just a chill night. Some drinks, a little fun, clear your head."

Joe stared at the message for a long time, feeling the weight of it pressing into his chest. It was like Ja'Marr knew exactly what he needed to hear. Joe had been in his head nonstop since the argument with Y/N—overanalyzing every word, every moment, wondering where he went wrong, questioning why she was pulling away. The thought of going out didn’t excite him at all, but Ja'Marr wasn’t wrong. He needed a distraction. He couldn’t keep spiraling. Not about Y/N. Not about something he had no control over right now.

He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. He wanted to fix things with Y/N—wanted to call her, talk it out, make her see that he was serious about them. But he knew, deep down, that it wasn’t that simple. She needed space. She needed time to figure things out, and as much as it hurt, he had to respect that. But hell, it didn’t make it any easier to sit with the uncertainty.

Maybe Ja'Marr was right. Maybe he needed to get out of his head for a little while. He let out a deep sigh, slumping back against the couch. As much as he wanted to stay locked in his thoughts, he knew staying stuck wasn’t going to help him find any answers. A night out with his boys could give him a much-needed break, even if it was just for a few hours.

He typed back slowly, his fingers hovering over the keys, unsure of how to respond. "I don’t know, man. I’m not really in the mood for a night out. Just been... thinking about stuff. A lot." He waited, staring at the screen, half-expecting Ja'Marr to let it go. But within seconds, Ja'Marr’s reply came in, as blunt as ever: "I get it, bro. But that’s exactly why you need this. You’re not gonna figure it out sitting in your head all night. Trust me, you need a break. Tee and I are just gonna kick back, maybe hit up that new bar downtown. No pressure, no deep convos. Just a chance to breathe."

Joe stared at the screen for a moment, his mind battling between the desire to retreat into his own space and the reality that he wasn’t going to solve anything by wallowing in his thoughts. Ja'Marr was right. He was never going to get clarity by constantly rehashing everything with Y/N. Maybe a couple of hours of mindless fun would help him reset, give him a little mental distance. He tapped out a reply, his fingers moving more confidently now. "Alright, I’m in. I’ll meet you guys. I could use a drink."

Ja'Marr wasted no time sending a response: "That’s what I like to hear. See you at 8. Don’t think too much, man. It’ll be good for you." Joe let the phone fall onto the couch beside him as he leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. He wasn’t sure if a night out would solve anything, but it was a start. A chance to stop obsessing over what he couldn’t control, even if just for a little while. He wasn’t going to forget about Y/N—he couldn’t. But maybe he could give himself the space to breathe. He took a deep breath, standing up from the couch. He wasn’t sure what the future held with Y/N. Hell, he wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring. But tonight, at least, he was going to try to let go, even if just for a few hours. He had to. For his own sanity.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, the suitcase in front of her, half-packed but not yet closed. She stared at the clothes inside, not really seeing them, her mind far away from the task at hand. The quiet in the room felt deafening, and the only sound was the soft hum of the music playing in the background. She had decided—no, she needed—to take the rest of the week off. Time to reset, to breathe, and maybe, just maybe, to make sense of the mess she found herself in.

She had booked a plane ticket for the next morning—back home to Slidell, Louisiana. It had been three years since she’d last been home, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was exactly where she needed to be right now. Her hometown, with its slow pace and familiar faces, would offer her the space she needed to heal. Her family, her old friends, and the quiet streets of Slidell—all of it felt like the kind of sanctuary she needed to reclaim some peace. Y/N took a deep breath, standing up and walking over to her window, looking out at the city below. The skyline was bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon, but everything felt distant, as if she wasn’t quite connected to the world around her. Her phone buzzed again, but she didn’t need to look at it. She already knew who it was—Imani, or maybe Keisha, checking in. She hadn’t answered their texts for the past couple of hours. She wasn’t sure how to explain herself right now, let alone the mess that had unfolded between her and Joe.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N turned away from the window and focused back on her suitcase. She needed to pack, she told herself. She needed to get away. Slidell would offer her the distance she needed, a temporary reprieve from the chaos of the past few days. Maybe the space would help her see things more clearly. Maybe it would give her the strength to decide what she wanted with Joe, if anything. Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, the soft hum of music filling the space as she folded clothes into her suitcase. She was supposed to be focusing on packing, but her mind kept drifting back to Joe. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him until now, when she was alone with her thoughts. She hadn’t been able to shake the image of his face, the way his eyes would light up when he looked at her, or that smile of his that always seemed to make the world feel right.

It wasn’t just the way he looked, though. She missed the way he made her feel—like she was someone worth fighting for, like he genuinely wanted to be there. She missed the way his presence made everything else fade into the background, leaving only the two of them in the moment. And, she couldn’t deny it, his smile. His icy blue eyes were like a magnet. They made her heart race every time their gazes met, and damn, if she was being honest, she couldn’t help but admit that his booty wasn’t so bad either. She let out a small laugh to herself, shaking her head, as she continued folding a shirt and placing it in her bag. The ache in her chest wouldn’t go away, though. How had things gotten so complicated? She had worked so hard to keep her heart safe, and now, here she was, missing him more than she cared to admit.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, pulling Y/N from her thoughts. She reached over and grabbed it, half-expecting a message from Imani or Keisha, but to her surprise, it was from Ja'Marr. The notification flashed on her screen, a simple message that made her pause for a moment. "Yo, you good?"

Y/N bit her lip, staring at the screen. She hadn’t spoken to anyone much since the argument with Joe, and now Ja'Marr was checking in. She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she wanted to open up about the weight pressing on her chest. She wasn’t ready to dive into the mess of emotions she had been fighting to keep under control. Still, he was her friend, and he was probably just worried. She quickly typed a response, trying to keep it casual.

"Yeah, just packing." Her thumb hovered over the send button for a second longer than necessary, but she hit send before she could second-guess herself. She didn’t want to dive into the details with him—not now, not when she was still sorting things out in her own head. Ja'Marr had a way of reading between the lines, though, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he asked what was really going on. Sure enough, just a few seconds later, the reply came through.

"What’s really going on, Y/N? You’ve been quiet for a minute. You sure you’re okay?" Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the headboard as she stared at her phone. Of course, Ja'Marr was going to ask. He always did. He was one of those friends who didn’t let you hide behind simple answers, always pushing until he got to the truth. And, despite herself, Y/N appreciated that about him. But right now, she wasn’t sure she was ready to talk. Not about Joe, not about how much she was struggling with everything.

She bit her lip, chewing on her lower lip as she thought. She could feel the tears welling up again, and she hated how weak she felt. How vulnerable. This wasn’t how she was used to handling things. Normally, Y/N would put on a brave face and push through—keep it together, focus on the next step. But with Joe, everything felt different. It felt harder. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face the storm swirling in her chest.

After a long pause, she finally typed back, trying to be as vague as possible while still being honest enough not to lie to him. "I’m fine. Just need some space, I think." She hit send before she could talk herself out of it. She knew it wasn’t the full truth, but it was the only truth she could give right now. Ja'Marr was probably going to press her more, but for the moment, it felt like the best answer she could give. He didn’t respond immediately, which gave her a small, unexpected sigh of relief. Maybe he could sense that she wasn’t ready for a long conversation. She hoped he understood.

As her phone lay silent in her hand, Y/N glanced around the room, her gaze drifting over the familiar space. It was small but cozy, a place she had come to feel comfortable in since moving to this city. The walls, adorned with some pictures and mementos, felt safe, but today, they felt confining. The weight of everything was heavy on her shoulders, and the thought of being stuck in this room for the next few days made her restless. She needed a break. She had bought a plane ticket back home to Slidell, Louisiana. Her flight was the next afternoon, and she couldn’t help but feel relieved that, for at least a few days, she would be away from all of it—the stress, the uncertainty, the heartache. She’d be surrounded by her family, her familiar places, and hopefully, she’d be able to sort through everything in her own time.

But even as she thought about the space that was coming, her mind still lingered on Joe. She couldn’t seem to escape the thoughts of him. His smile, the way he made her feel alive in ways no one else had ever been able to, his eyes that held so much warmth and intensity. He’d managed to carve out a space in her heart without even trying, and it terrified her.

But that terror wasn’t just about the feelings she had for him. It was also about the fear that maybe this wouldn’t last, that the universe had other plans for her—plans she wasn’t ready to face again. The memory of Trey, the man she’d once believed would be her forever, lingered like a shadow in her mind. What if Joe wasn’t the one? What if she was just setting herself up for another heartbreak? Could she really risk feeling that way again? She shook her head, pushing the thought aside, though it didn’t leave her completely. Tomorrow, she'd be back home, in the place where everything felt simpler. Where the air felt lighter. She could breathe there, without the constant weight of doubt and fear weighing her down. She could take a moment to figure out what she wanted—what she truly needed. Maybe, just maybe, she could make sense of everything.

She stood up and walked across the room, looking around one more time as she finished up her packing. Her hand rested on the suitcase, and for the first time in what felt like days, she allowed herself a moment of peace. She didn’t know what was waiting for her when she came back. Maybe things with Joe would pick up where they left off, maybe not. But for now, she needed to take this time to find herself again, to heal the parts of her that had been broken for far too long. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but she knew one thing for certain—she couldn’t rush through this. She had to take it one step at a time, even if that meant walking away from Joe for a while. After all, maybe she needed to learn how to be whole on her own before she could let someone else in.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Joe sat back in the booth, his fingers tracing the condensation on his beer bottle, his mind still drifting. The sounds of clinking glasses and low chatter surrounded him, but they felt distant. Ja'Marr and Tee were cracking jokes, talking about their training sessions, teasing each other about who was going to have the better stats by the end of the season. It was the kind of banter that normally would have Joe in stitches, but tonight, his laughter felt hollow. His thoughts kept pulling him back to Y/N.

He hadn't been able to shake the feeling of the tension that had built up between them. The argument, her storming off, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air—it all felt like it was suffocating him. Y/N had made it clear she needed space, but Joe was still wondering how to navigate all the emotions he was carrying. He wanted to fix things, wanted to tell her that he wasn’t going anywhere, but what if she needed something he couldn’t give her? Ja'Marr, ever the perceptive friend, noticed Joe's distracted look. He clapped him on the back, giving him a hard nudge to snap him out of his spiraling thoughts. “See, man? I told you this would help. You can’t keep letting it eat at you. This is the perfect distraction.”

Joe blinked, shaking himself out of the cloud of his thoughts. He gave Ja'Marr a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. You were right. I just... I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Tee, who was leaning back with his arm slung casually over the back of the booth, gave a teasing grin. “Oh, we know, bro. That girl’s got you all twisted up. What’s going on?” Joe shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling the weight of Tee’s question. His first instinct was to laugh it off, pretend everything was fine. But he couldn’t. He could feel the concern in his chest tightening, a knot he hadn’t been able to undo all day. He didn’t want to let his emotions spill over, not here, not in front of his friends. But Ja'Marr and Tee could see right through him, and they weren’t letting up.

“What do you mean?” Joe asked, trying to sound casual, but his voice betrayed him, carrying an undercurrent of frustration. Ja'Marr leaned forward, his eyes softening as he met Joe’s gaze. “Bro, I’ve known you too long. Something’s up with you, and it’s not just practice. You’ve been holding this... whatever it is... close to the chest for a while now. It’s been eating at you, hasn’t it?”

Joe sighed, rubbing his temples as if it would ease the pressure that had been building in his mind all day. He had tried to push everything aside, but it was impossible. Everything kept coming back to Y/N—the argument, the unresolved feelings, the fact that he didn’t know how to fix it. “Man, it’s... complicated,” Joe muttered, taking a long drink from his beer. “I don’t know what to do. It’s like every time I try to get close, it feels like I’m pushing her further away. And she...” His voice faltered. “She’s different, Ja'Marr. I care about her, a lot. But I don’t know what the hell she wants from me.”

Ja'Marr was quiet for a moment, nodding slowly, before replying in a calm, knowing tone. “It’s always gonna be complicated when you care about someone. Especially someone like her. You can’t control how she feels, Joe. All you can do is show her that you’re there. But you can’t force her to open up if she’s not ready. And sometimes, man, you’ve got to give it space to breathe.” Tee added in, his voice surprisingly serious, “Yeah, man. You’re all tangled up in your head right now, thinking about what’s next. But you can’t rush it. You’ve gotta let it unfold. You can’t keep trying to fix it or push it. She’s gonna come to you when she’s ready.”

Joe rubbed his jaw, considering their words. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what they were saying—he knew he couldn��t force Y/N to feel something she wasn’t ready for. But it didn’t stop the ache in his chest, the gnawing doubt that maybe he wasn’t enough. He could feel his anxiety creeping back up, a familiar sensation that made him question everything. “I don’t want to lose her, man,” Joe confessed, his voice quieter now, almost raw.

Ja'Marr and Tee exchanged another quick look, and Ja'Marr reached over to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You won’t, bro. But you gotta let her come to you. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself to fix everything at once. Let it breathe. If it’s real, it’ll find its way.” Joe leaned back in the booth, his gaze flicking over to the bar where a couple of people were laughing over drinks, trying to ignore the weight of everything that felt unresolved in his life. It was hard to breathe in that space, knowing Y/N wasn’t there, knowing she was probably thousands of miles away. But Ja'Marr and Tee were right—he couldn’t fix everything in one night. He needed to give her the space she asked for, even if it made him feel helpless.

The conversation shifted back to more lighthearted topics—Tee starting an outrageous story about a teammate’s disastrous date, and Ja'Marr laughing at how he always managed to give the worst dating advice. For a moment, Joe found himself genuinely laughing, the heavy thoughts at the back of his mind fading into the background. The guys were right—he needed this. He needed a night to clear his head, to reset. And maybe, just maybe, he needed to stop overthinking everything.

As the night went on, the beer kept flowing, the music played, and the three of them just kicked back and enjoyed being in each other’s company. Joe didn’t know what the next day would bring or if things between him and Y/N would ever work out the way he hoped. But for now, he allowed himself to enjoy the distraction. For tonight, he didn’t have to have all the answers. Tonight, he could just be Joe, with his boys, letting go of the weight for a little while.

Joe walked up to the bar, his feet dragging slightly as he made his way through the crowd. The night had been decent so far—he’d been able to put the weight of everything that had happened with Y/N on the back burner, even if just for a little while. The guys had kept things light, teasing each other, talking about random things, and letting him forget about the mess that was still waiting for him back in his head. But he needed another drink, something to keep him from overthinking and spiraling into those same old thoughts.

He was waiting for the bartender to slide him a fresh drink when a voice caught his attention. A smooth, somewhat sultry voice that made him pause. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Football Star himself,” the woman said, her tone playful and teasing. Joe turned to see a woman leaning against the bar, her gaze steady on him, a smirk playing on her lips. She was attractive—blonde hair, sharp features, an obvious confidence about her—but Joe wasn’t interested. Not tonight. “Hey,” Joe greeted her, giving a polite nod before turning his attention back to the bartender who was now placing his drink in front of him.

The woman, though, wasn’t deterred by his lack of enthusiasm. She shifted closer to him, her eyes scanning him up and down in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. “I didn’t expect to see someone like you in a place like this,” she said, her voice low, almost seductive. “Usually, guys like you are too busy with their fancy parties and exclusive events. What’s a big star like you doing out here with the regular people?” Joe felt his stomach tighten. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, not the way this woman was laying it on thick. He was still thinking about Y/N, about the frustration that still lingered in his chest. He didn’t have the energy for small talk, certainly not with someone who was clearly only interested in his celebrity.

He forced a smile, trying to keep things light but direct. “Just enjoying a night out with my friends. No need to make a big deal out of it.” The woman didn’t seem to take the hint. Instead, she leaned in a little closer, her hand brushing against his arm. “I’m sure the ladies are lining up for a guy like you, huh? You must have a lot of options.” Her voice was almost too smooth, too calculated, as though she was trying to reel him in.

Joe took a step back, feeling his discomfort grow. He wasn’t interested in a random hookup or flirtation, especially not when his mind was so consumed with someone else. “I’m not looking for anything, really,” he said, keeping his tone firm but polite. She raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by his lack of interest. But instead of backing off, she gave him a sly grin. “Oh, I bet you’ve got a lot on your mind. I’m sure I could help you take your mind off things.” Joe shook his head, taking his drink and stepping away from the bar. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m good.” He didn’t even glance back at her as he made his way back to the booth where Ja'Marr and Tee were sitting. He needed to get away from this whole thing, from the tension in the air and the woman’s relentless flirting.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, her phone in her hand as she debated how much to share with Imani and Keisha. She knew they would worry, but she didn’t want to leave them hanging either. They were her best friends, and they deserved to know what was going on, even if she didn’t have all the answers herself. Taking a deep breath, she typed out a quick message to both of them: "Hey, I’m taking the rest of the week off. I’ll be okay, just need some time to myself. Don’t worry, I’m fine. Love you both."

She stared at the text for a moment, her thumb hovering over the send button. There was more she could say, more she could explain about what had been going on in her head, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. Not with everything still so up in the air. She didn’t even want to think about Joe right now. Her phone buzzed almost immediately with a reply from Keisha: "Y/N, you better take care of yourself. We’re here if you need to talk. Love you, girl."

And then from Imani: "I get it. Take the time you need, but remember, we’ve got your back no matter what." Y/N smiled softly, a little comforted by their words, but she couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. She knew they wanted to be there for her, to help her through whatever was going on with Joe, but right now, she needed distance from everything. She needed to think, to clear her head, and the best way to do that was to go home.

With a deep breath, she powered off her phone, slipping it into her bag. She didn’t want any distractions. Her heart had been pulled in so many directions over the past few days—between Joe, her past with Trey, and the whirlwind of emotions that had come with it all—that she just needed a break from it all.

​​The airport terminal was alive with activity, people rushing to and from their gates, dragging rolling suitcases behind them, talking into their phones, and waiting in lines for coffee or snacks. The hum of voices and the echoing announcements over the loudspeakers blended into a constant background noise. But Y/N barely noticed any of it. Her thoughts were far away, wandering in a space between the life she had left behind in Cincinnati and the life she was returning to in Slidell. As she walked through the terminal, her steps felt automatic, like she was on autopilot. The terminal was a blur of faces and movement, but she kept her head down, moving with purpose. Her mind was elsewhere, focused on the horizon, on the plane ride ahead, and the comfort of home that awaited her. The thought of returning to her roots, surrounded by the warmth of family and the familiar sights of her hometown, gave her a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in weeks. The noise and pressure of life in Cincinnati, the arguments with Joe, the confusion in her heart—everything felt too heavy. She just needed space. Time to breathe. Time to reconnect with herself without the chaos.

She glanced down at her phone, seeing a couple of missed texts from Imani and Keisha. She had already told them she was fine, that she just needed some time. They’d respected her decision, but she knew they were still worried. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to respond just yet, not when her emotions felt so raw and disorganized. She wasn’t sure what she needed to say, or if she could explain the jumble of feelings in her chest. Instead, she tucked her phone back into her bag and continued walking toward the gate, her heart a little lighter with each step.

The boarding process was quick, and before long, she was seated by the window, looking out over the tarmac. She had the window seat, a small comfort in itself. Y/N loved the feeling of being above it all, looking down at the world below and seeing everything from a distance. The plane slowly began to taxi toward the runway, the engines humming with life as the plane prepared for takeoff. She pressed her forehead against the cool window, watching as the airport grew smaller and smaller, the city skyline fading into the distance.

With each passing moment, Y/N could feel herself letting go, just a little bit more. The noise and worries of the past week felt like they were falling away, replaced by the quiet hum of the plane and the soft vibration beneath her feet. The thought of home, of Slidell, was like a balm for her heart. There, she could relax. There, she could forget about the uncertainty and chaos that had built up around her recently. For a few days, she could let herself just be.

But even as she settled into the comfort of the flight, her mind kept drifting back to Joe. It was impossible not to. Even though she had promised herself she’d put him out of her thoughts, he lingered in the back of her mind. His face, the way he’d looked at her that day—the hurt and frustration in his eyes when she walked away—it kept replaying in her mind, over and over again. He was a force she couldn’t ignore, a presence she couldn’t escape. Every little thing about him, from his soft laugh to the way his blue eyes seemed to see right through her, stuck with her. Even now, halfway across the country, she felt the pull of him.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? The pull. The way he’d managed to worm his way into her heart in such a short time, how easily she had let him in. She had promised herself she wouldn’t let anyone get close again after Trey, but Joe had done it effortlessly. She didn’t know how to handle it. The vulnerability, the fear of letting herself love again, it was all too much. But at the same time, she couldn’t push it all away. She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the seat, trying to block out the thoughts that kept spiraling through her mind. She didn’t know what the future held with Joe, and that terrified her. What if things didn’t work out? What if they weren’t meant to be, and she was just setting herself up for more heartbreak?

As the plane climbed higher into the sky, Y/N let out a slow breath, trying to release the tension she hadn’t realized she was holding. The familiar ache in her chest was still there, but it was easier to ignore now, at least for the moment. The rhythm of the plane’s movement soothed her, and she let herself drift into a quiet, peaceful lull. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or what would happen when she returned to Cincinnati, but for now, she needed this. She needed this time to clear her head, to breathe, to remember who she was without the weight of all the questions. She could process everything later. Right now, she just needed to let go. And when the plane touched down in Slidell, she would deal with whatever awaited her there. Her past. Her future. Her fears and her hopes. But for now, she could let herself be still, even if only for a little while.

♪♫•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪

The morning sunlight crept through the blinds of Joe’s bedroom, casting a soft, golden hue across the room. For a moment, everything felt calm—normal, even. Joe stretched out in bed, groggily rubbing his eyes as he pulled himself out of his half-sleep, trying to shake off the fog from a restless night. He had hoped for a fresh start, a normal day—practice, maybe a few hours to clear his head, and, if he was lucky, a chance to smooth things over with Y/N. That was the plan, at least. But as fate often has it, things didn’t go as he expected.

Joe turned on the shower, the hot water cascading down his body as he tried to shake off the thoughts of last night. The conversation with Y/N had been a mess, and now the aftermath was gnawing at him. His mind was a whirlpool of confusion, guilt, and longing. He tried to focus on the soothing rhythm of the water, hoping it would calm his nerves, but his thoughts kept drifting back to her—the way she’d looked at him, the hesitation in her voice, the way he couldn’t seem to find the right words to make things right.

He closed his eyes, letting the water soak through his hair, but the buzz of his phone on the bathroom counter broke his focus. He frowned, reluctantly stepping out of the shower to check it. The screen lit up, filled with a flood of notifications. His stomach sank as he saw the names: Ja'Marr, Tee, Imani, Keisha. They’d all reached out, and the sheer volume of messages made his chest tighten. What the hell had happened? He froze.

It was a message from his publicist. "Joe, you might want to check social media. Something’s trending."

He quickly opened his Twitter, then moved over to Instagram, his heart sinking as he saw what was going viral. A photo of him at the bar, with the woman from earlier standing just a little too close, her hand on his arm. The caption was simple, but it had all the wrong implications: "Joe Burrow spotted out at the bar tonight, getting cozy with a mystery woman."

Joe’s pulse quickened. He immediately knew how this would play out. Gossip pages like DeuxMoi and The Shade Room would be all over this. People would start speculating, making assumptions. And the worst part was, he didn’t even know if Y/N would see it, but the thought of her getting hurt because of something he hadn’t even done—that was the last thing he wanted. He felt his frustration rising. How the hell had this even happened? The picture had to have been taken when he was standing at the bar with the woman. He wasn’t interested, hadn’t even been giving her any more attention than necessary. But the photo made it look entirely different. It made it look like he was flirting, maybe even more. And now, this image was out there for everyone to see. “Damn it,” Joe muttered under his breath, tapping his phone screen in disbelief as he stared at the photo. He felt his stomach churn, suddenly feeling like he was drowning in this mess of misunderstandings and misplaced assumptions. This was the last thing he needed.

Joe quickly grabbed a towel, drying off as he scanned through the texts. He felt his pulse quicken as he saw Ja'Marr’s first message.

Ja'Marr: “Yo, you good?” Joe’s heart skipped a beat, knowing exactly what Ja'Marr meant. His mind raced as he scrolled to the next message, this one from Tee.

Tee: “Bruh, what’s going on? Check social media, man. Shit’s blowing up.” Joe’s stomach dropped, and his hands went cold. He didn’t need to see more. He knew what was coming. He swiped to Instagram, then Twitter, and within seconds, he saw it. The photo of him at the bar with that woman, standing far too close. Her hand on his arm. The caption was like a dagger.

“Joe Burrow spotted out at the bar, getting cozy with a mystery woman.”

His pulse quickened as he realized the implications of it all. He hadn’t been interested in her—not in the way it looked, anyway. But that wasn’t the point now. The point was, this picture was out there, circulating like wildfire, and he had no control over it. He didn’t even know if Y/N had seen it yet, but the thought of her finding out like this made him sick to his stomach. He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of this misunderstanding.

Before he could process it, his phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Imani.

Imani: “What the fuck, Joe? You’re out here getting cozy with some random chick while Y/N’s trying to figure out her feelings? Are you serious?” Joe winced at the tone. Imani wasn’t holding back, and he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Y/N, and now this? He could feel the anger and frustration radiating through the text. He quickly skimmed the next message, from Keisha.

Keisha: “You know better than this. She’s already dealing with so much, and you do this? She’s gonna see it, Joe. Just wait.” He read the messages again, his head spinning. The last thing he wanted was for Y/N to feel betrayed. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her more. He felt like he was stuck in a bad dream, watching it all unfold, unable to do anything to stop it. But it wasn’t just the women in his life who were coming at him. Ja'Marr’s text came through next, though his tone was more measured.

Ja'Marr: “Bro, I see it too. It looks bad. But listen to me, it ain’t what it seems. I know you weren’t trying to do anything shady, but the internet don’t care about context. You need to address this, and you need to do it fast before it blows up even more. Tee and I are here for you, but you gotta step up, man.”

Joe sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, his head spinning. Ja'Marr was right. The internet had no time for nuance, and he was caught in the middle of something that could spiral out of control if he didn’t act fast. He had to fix this. He had to get ahead of the story before it tore him apart.

Ja'Marr had been through his own media storms, so Joe knew that his advice wasn’t coming from a place of judgment, but from experience. Still, the weight of everything was suffocating. This wasn’t just about a photo. It was about his relationship with Y/N. It was about their future, or what could’ve been their future. He couldn’t let this be the thing that ruined everything. Joe didn’t have time to dwell on it. He shot a quick reply to Ja'Marr, hoping he could get a hold of things before they spun even further out of control.

Imani: “Joe, you better not make the mistake of letting this slide. You owe her the truth. And if you think this photo is the worst of it, think again. If I find out that you’re out here playing games with her feelings... We’re gonna have a problem.”

Joe ran a hand through his damp hair, groaning in frustration. Imani and Keisha were angry, and rightfully so. But this wasn’t just about him and the girls being upset—it was about Y/N. His heart ached thinking about what she might be going through right now, her emotions tangled up in everything that had happened. He couldn’t let this mess be the reason she closed herself off from him for good. His phone buzzed again, but this time, it wasn’t a message from anyone he knew. It was a notification from Twitter, showing the trending hashtag: #JoeBurrowMysteryWoman. The floodgates had opened, and there was no going back now. He had to fix this. He had no idea how, but he couldn’t let this spiral any further. Joe grabbed his keys and wallet, barely noticing the tension in his shoulders as he left his apartment. He was done sitting back and letting the world control his narrative. It was time to take charge—before everything he’d started to build with Y/N slipped through his fingers.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

The plane touched down smoothly in New Orleans around 10:30 a.m., the engines humming as they made their descent toward the familiar skyline of the city she had missed so much. Y/N's heart lifted a little at the sight of the vibrant streets below, each one an intricate blend of culture, history, and warmth. She’d been away too long, and the moment she stepped off the plane, it was like a weight she didn’t even realize she was carrying lifted off her shoulders.

She grabbed her carry-on bag and made her way to the baggage claim, her mind already racing with thoughts of home. The comfort of her childhood room, the smell of gumbo wafting from the kitchen, the warmth of her family's laughter filling the house—everything about this place had always been a sanctuary. It was the perfect escape from the whirlwind she’d left behind in Cincinnati. For now, she just wanted to breathe. After grabbing her luggage, she found her rental car and began the drive to Slidell, her hometown just a short distance from the bustling streets of New Orleans. The familiar sights—well-maintained houses, the overgrown trees lining the streets—were like balm for her soul. The low hum of the car’s engine was soothing, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the small, nostalgic details of the drive. It had been years since she'd been back home for any extended period of time, and it felt right—like returning to herself.

She passed by local landmarks—the diner she used to go to with friends, the park where she and Trey had spent hours talking and laughing in their younger years. Every street felt like a memory, and with each mile she drove, she felt a little more grounded.

As she neared the outskirts of Slidell, she noticed the faint outlines of the trees that bordered her grandparents' house. The small cottage-style home was nestled on a quiet street, surrounded by lush greenery and blooming flowers. It was a place full of love and warmth, a constant in her life no matter where she had been or what she had gone through. When she finally pulled into the driveway, she couldn't help but feel a wave of comfort wash over her. She could hear voices inside, the faint sound of conversation and laughter. Her heart swelled with affection for her family, knowing that this was where she needed to be. She grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and walked up the front steps, the door swinging open just as she reached it.

"Y/N! Baby, you’re home!" Her grandmother’s voice was the first to greet her, warm and inviting, followed by the scent of bacon and fresh coffee wafting through the air. Inside, the house was bustling with the familiar sounds of her family. Her parents were sitting at the kitchen table, chatting about the latest local news, while her siblings were scattered around the room, joking and eating breakfast. It was like nothing had changed, and for the first time in days, Y/N felt like she could exhale.

“Morning, everyone,” Y/N greeted, a smile tugging at her lips as she entered the kitchen, her eyes immediately meeting her mother’s. “Well, look who finally made it back to us! How was the flight?” her mom asked, standing up to hug her. “It was fine, just long. I missed you guys,” Y/N replied, resting her head against her mother’s shoulder for a moment, savoring the comfort of being home.

Her younger brother, Tayvion, was sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal in front of him. He grinned up at her. “You missed us, huh? Thought you’d gone Hollywood and forgotten all about us!” he teased, earning a playful swat from their older sister, Rachelle. “I could never forget about you guys,” Y/N said, sitting down at the table. Her family’s easy camaraderie was like a balm for her soul. The stress of the past week seemed to melt away in an instant.

Her grandparents were sitting at the other end of the table, their faces lighting up when they saw her. Her grandfather, always the jokester, immediately started in on her. “You finally get that big-time job and forget your roots, huh?” he teased with a wink, his voice warm and raspy with age. Y/N laughed, feeling a genuine sense of peace settle over her. “Never, Grandpa. You know I always come back here when I need to recharge.”

As the family continued to chatter, Y/N felt the familiar rhythm of home wrap around her. This was exactly what she needed—the familiar faces, the warmth, the love. It wasn’t just the food or the environment that made this place feel like home. It was the people. Her people. For the first time in days, she felt a little more like herself. Her mind, which had been racing with thoughts of Joe and everything that had happened back in Cincinnati, felt quieter. She didn’t have to worry about anything here. She could just be.

As her grandmother placed a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of her, Y/N looked around at her family, feeling a sense of belonging that she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much. The chaos of her life, the questions and doubts about Joe, all of it seemed so far away here. And for a while, that was exactly what she needed. She took a deep breath and smiled, the weight in her chest easing just a little bit.

Y/N had barely stepped into the quiet comfort of her childhood bedroom before the weight of everything hit her like a wave. It was the calm she needed, the escape from the constant noise of the world outside, but it felt too still, too silent. The room smelled faintly of lavender and cedarwood, a scent her mother had always used to keep the space feeling fresh and welcoming. The soft, muted sunlight poured in through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room, and for a moment, she allowed herself to just breathe.

She sat on the edge of the bed, slowly unzipping her suitcase, the rhythm of her movements a small distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind. The muted buzz of her phone from her bag served as a reminder that the world was still spinning outside her little bubble of safety. But today, she didn’t want to be a part of that world. Not yet. Y/N had intentionally muted everything—social media, texts, phone calls. She didn’t want the noise of it all; the constant chatter, the speculation, and especially the questions. She just needed time to figure things out. A few days away from it all, away from Joe, away from the weight of those conversations, might help clear the fog in her mind. So, she focused on unpacking her bag, folding her clothes, and ignoring the growing tension in her chest.

As she put a few pairs of shoes into the closet, the door to her room creaked open. Without needing to look up, Y/N knew exactly who it was. Her sister, Rachelle, always had a way of entering the room with a quiet grace, but Y/N could feel the weight of her sister’s gaze before she even spoke. Y/N tried to focus on what she was doing, neatly placing her shoes next to the closet and turning back to her suitcase, but she could feel Rachelle’s presence in the doorway, watching her.

“So… what’s going on?” Rachelle’s voice broke the silence, calm but with an edge of concern that Y/N knew too well. “You’re not usually here this early, especially not before the anniversary.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she froze mid-motion. She had hoped to keep the reason for her sudden return to Slidell a secret, at least for a little while. But Rachelle—her older sister—was too perceptive. Rachelle had always been able to read her like an open book, and now, standing there with her arms crossed, she could see right through the carefully crafted facade Y/N had been trying to maintain.

Y/N exhaled slowly, finally looking up at Rachelle. She had spent hours on the flight trying to sort through everything, and the last thing she wanted was to dive into it now. But there was no avoiding it. Rachelle wouldn’t let it slide. “I just… needed some space,” Y/N said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “Things have been a lot lately, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Rachelle tilted her head, studying her sister for a long moment. Y/N could see the wheels turning in her mind, but Rachelle said nothing for a few seconds. She knew her sister was waiting for more—waiting for the real reason Y/N had come home, away from everything and everyone. And Y/N wasn’t ready to give that to her yet. Instead, Rachelle took a step into the room, her eyes narrowing slightly as she perched on the edge of the bed, her gaze unwavering. “You’ve never come home early before the anniversary of Trey's passing unless something big was going on,” Rachelle continued, her voice soft but filled with quiet understanding. “So, what’s really going on, Y/N?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. The flood of emotions she’d been trying to keep at bay suddenly surged to the surface. The pain of losing Trey, the confusion surrounding Joe, the doubts and fears that had been growing ever since that argument. “I don’t know, Chelle,” Y/N whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She sat down next to her sister on the bed, finally letting her guard down. “I thought I had it figured out. I thought I knew what I wanted, but now I feel like I’m lost in the middle of all of this.”

Rachelle’s expression softened, and she reached out to place a gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes. It was the same way their mom had comforted her when she was younger, when the world had seemed like it was too much to handle. “You don’t have to figure everything out right now,” Rachelle said, her voice steady, full of that calming reassurance that only older siblings could give. “But you need to talk about it, Y/N. You can’t just keep it all inside. I know you—you're carrying a lot on your own, and that's not the way we do things in this family.” Y/N sighed, closing her eyes as the weight of everything she’d been holding onto for so long pressed down on her. She had always prided herself on being strong, on being able to handle things on her own. But the truth was, she didn’t know if she could handle this on her own anymore.

Rachelle looked down at Y/N’s phone, still lying untouched on the nightstand. She saw it was muted, and her eyes flickered with concern, but she didn’t press. Instead, she just squeezed Y/N’s shoulder and gave her a soft, knowing smile. “Don’t shut us out, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone.” Rachelle’s voice was gentle but firm. “You’ve always had us. You’ve got me.” Y/N nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed to hear that, how much she had been keeping to herself, until her sister said the words she needed to hear.

“You’ve got me,” Rachelle repeated, wrapping her arms around Y/N in a tight embrace. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.” For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N let herself go—allowing herself to cry, to feel the weight of everything that had been building up inside her. The grief over Trey, the confusion about Joe, the overwhelming sense of being torn in two. And as her sister held her, Y/N allowed herself to feel safe. She didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if she and Joe would ever be able to talk again, or if things would ever go back to the way they had been. But for the first time in a long while, she felt like it was okay to just take a breath, to just exist for a moment, without having to worry about everything else. She wasn’t alone, and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough for now.

The sound of laughter filled the air as Y/N sat around the table with her family, the atmosphere warm and lively. The familiar hum of conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter, made her feel like she had finally found her footing again after the emotional whirlwind of the past few days. There was something grounding about being back here, in her family’s house, surrounded by the people who had watched her grow up, who had been there through every high and low.

Her grandparents were seated at the head of the table, with her father and mother beside them. Her siblings were spread around the table too, all talking over one another, catching up on everything from work to family gossip. The smell of her mother’s cooking—biscuits, bacon, and fresh eggs—lingered in the air, making everything feel even more familiar, comforting. Her grandmother was telling one of her favorite stories, one Y/N had heard countless times before, but it never failed to make her laugh. "You all remember the time your grandfather broke his foot, don’t you?” Grandma began with a mischievous glint in her eye, her voice light and full of energy. “He wasn’t allowed to drive because of the cast, so what did he do? Took the lawnmower instead.”

The whole table erupted in laughter, even her father, who was usually the stoic one, chuckling as he wiped a tear from his eye. Grandma continued, leaning in with the kind of playful seriousness only a grandmother could muster. “He drove that thing all the way down to the hardware store. The neighbors were staring at him like he’d lost his mind. And you know what he said?” She paused, her eyes twinkling. “He said, ‘Well, if I can’t drive a car, the lawnmower’s got wheels, doesn’t it?’” Y/N laughed along with the rest of the table, feeling the tension in her chest loosen a little more. It was the kind of moment she had missed—the kind of laughter that made everything feel light, that reminded her of how good it was to be home.

As the laughter settled down, Y/N’s eyes wandered to her grandparents, who were sitting close to one another, still holding hands after all these years. Their love for each other was evident in the small gestures—the way her grandmother would reach out to touch her grandfather’s arm when he spoke, the way he would lean in to whisper something funny into her ear. It was the kind of love Y/N had always admired, the kind of love that felt like it would withstand anything. She looked at her parents next, who were sitting across from each other, talking animatedly, but always making sure to check in with each other with shared glances and quiet smiles. They had been married for years, but there was still a sense of intimacy between them, an unspoken connection that only time could build. It was a bond that didn’t need words to be understood.

Y/N felt her heart ache just slightly as she watched them. The love they shared, so easy and natural, reminded her of what she had lost with Trey. Of course, the love they had was different, but it was still love—a deep, raw connection that went beyond words. That was what she had felt with Trey, the way they had been so in sync with each other. It had been the kind of relationship that made everything feel right, the kind of love that made you believe you could take on the world together. But then her thoughts shifted to Joe. The way he had made her feel. The intensity of it, the push and pull between them. She had never felt so seen by anyone in the way she had with him. But that was before everything got complicated. The weight of their argument, the miscommunication—it still hung between them like a heavy cloud. But as she sat there, surrounded by the warmth of her family’s love, she couldn’t help but wonder if what she felt for Joe could be something real. Something lasting. Something that wasn’t clouded by their past.

She let herself linger on the thought, not willing to chase it away just yet. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to have a relationship built on that kind of foundation—the kind of love she saw in her grandparents and her parents. The kind of love she had always dreamed of. But she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Was it too soon for her to even consider that? Was it too complicated? She thought about the argument, about how much it had hurt, and whether she and Joe could find their way back to something that resembled what her family had.

The table grew quieter for a moment, and Y/N’s father turned to look at her, his face softening with a warm, knowing smile. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” he asked gently. Y/N blinked, her thoughts pulling her back to the present. She gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Just thinking about everything, Dad. It’s good to be home.” Her dad nodded, his smile widening. “I know, sweetheart. You’re always welcome here. We’ve got you, no matter what.” Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. She knew he meant it. And right now, that was all she really needed—space to breathe, time to process, and the comfort of being surrounded by people who loved her unconditionally.

As the conversation continued around her, Y/N let herself lean into the comfort of home. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her and Joe, or even if there would be a future between them. But for now, in this moment, she was content. She was home, with her family, and that was enough.

A few hours later, the house had settled into a comfortable rhythm. The sound of distant chatter from the living room mingled with the occasional clink of dishes being put away in the kitchen. Y/N sat in the cozy corner of the living room, a place she had spent countless hours growing up. Her mother, Madea, and her sister Rachelle had gathered around her. Madea sat in her old, creaky armchair, the same one she had sat in since Y/N was a little girl, with a mug of hot tea resting on her lap. Her mother sat on the couch next to her, leaning forward slightly, as if instinctively prepared to support whatever her daughter needed. Rachelle, her older sister, was sitting behind her, expertly braiding Y/N’s hair, the soft tug of the strands reminding Y/N of the peaceful days of her childhood.

It had been a long, emotional day, and now, with her hair being braided, Y/N could finally relax in the safety of her family. But she knew it was time to talk—time to get everything off her chest. There had been so much on her mind lately, so many conflicting emotions, and she couldn’t bear to keep it bottled up any longer. She needed their wisdom, their guidance. She cleared her throat, drawing the attention of her mother and grandmother.

“Madea, Mama, I need to talk to you both,” Y/N began, her voice soft but steady. The weight of what she was about to say pressed on her chest, but she knew it was time. Rachelle paused for a moment, sensing the shift in atmosphere, and kept her hands still in Y/N’s hair. Madea looked at her with those warm, knowing eyes, a silent invitation to share whatever was weighing on her. Her mother’s face softened, giving Y/N the same look of encouragement.

Y/N took a deep breath and began, feeling the words slowly pour out of her, piece by piece. “I came home because… well, a lot of things have been happening, and I needed space. I’ve been dealing with some stuff. There’s this guy—Joe.” Madea nodded, her expression calm, though her eyes gleamed with the curiosity that only a grandmother could have when it came to matters of love. “Joe, huh?” she asked, her voice gentle. “Tell us about him, baby.”

Y/N paused, trying to collect her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized how much she’d been holding back until now. “Joe’s different, Madea. He’s… kind, funny, and he makes me feel like I can breathe when I’m with him. Yet he drives me absolutely insane in so many ways, I just can’t get enough. But there’s also been a lot of confusion. The other day, we had a… disagreement. It wasn’t just any argument. It was big. And I think it’s messing with everything. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if it can be fixed.”

Rachelle, who had been listening intently, added softly, “You’re talking about him, so I’m guessing you care about him. But something’s holding you back, right?” Y/N nodded, her fingers clenching around the edge of her grandmother’s armrest. “Yeah. There’s this part of me that’s scared, Rachelle. We’ve been through so much already—between my past with Trey and everything that’s happened with Joe. The argument we had the other day… it felt like I was losing him before we even really had a chance to figure things out. And I’m scared that if I keep moving forward with him, I’m just setting myself up to be hurt again.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Rachelle’s hands paused in her hair, her fingers lightly tracing the strands, but she didn’t say anything. Madea sat still, her eyes softened with understanding, though she remained silent, letting Y/N process her emotions. The quiet seemed to stretch on, heavy with the tension Y/N had been carrying inside her for so long.

Then, quietly but firmly, Y/N’s mother spoke up. “Do you love him?”

The question hit Y/N like a bucket of ice water, freezing her thoughts in place. She blinked, her chest tightening, as if the words themselves had knocked the breath out of her. It felt like time had paused in that moment. Her mind raced to answer, but the words lodged in her throat, unwilling to come out. Did she love him? She hadn’t fully allowed herself to think that far ahead. The idea of love had always felt complicated, layered with grief from losing Trey and fear of moving on. But now, faced with her mother’s calm yet penetrating question, Y/N realized she couldn’t hide from it any longer.

She opened her mouth, but no words came at first. Instead, she felt the walls she’d carefully built around her emotions start to crack. Her heart fluttered just thinking about Joe—his smile, the way he made her feel alive even when life felt heavy, the tenderness in his touch that made her forget the world around them. Everything about him had somehow become so intertwined with her, it was impossible to separate the feelings she had for him from the pain of her past.

“I… I don’t know,” Y/N finally murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I do. But I’m scared to admit it, Mama. I’m scared to let myself feel that way again.” Her mother’s gaze softened as she moved closer, resting a hand gently on Y/N’s shoulder. “Love doesn’t come with guarantees, sweetheart. It’s not always neat or easy, and it doesn’t come with a checklist of ‘safe’ steps. But when you love someone, even with all the fear and uncertainty, you have to let yourself feel it. And you have to be willing to face the possibility of being hurt, because without that, you’re not truly giving yourself the chance to experience what love can be.”

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, letting her mother’s words sink in. The weight of what her mom was saying didn’t escape her. Love wasn’t just about holding onto the good moments or trying to avoid the bad—it was about vulnerability, about risking yourself for the chance to build something real. But it was also about having the strength to face the uncertainty, to lean into the fear rather than run away from it. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for that,” Y/N said, feeling the heaviness of her heart as the words left her lips. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

Madea leaned forward slightly, her voice calm and steady. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. But you’ll never know unless you let yourself open up to it. If you love him, don’t let fear make that decision for you. Let your heart guide you, not your doubts.” Y/N bit her lip, feeling the swirl of emotions rise again. Her mind was spinning—she was scared, but the love she felt for Joe, despite all the complications, was undeniable. It wasn’t just about him; it was about what they could be, together. And if there was one thing she had learned from her own family’s love, it was that love wasn’t about being perfect. It was about showing up, even when it felt like everything was falling apart.

Madea, who had been quiet until now, spoke up, her voice soft but steady with the wisdom of a woman who had lived through much in her years. “Sweetheart, love isn’t about perfection. It’s about risk. It’s about trusting someone enough to let them in, even when you’re afraid. You can’t control the future, but you can choose to be open. You’ve been holding onto your past for so long, baby. You’ve got to let go of the fear, or it’ll keep you stuck in the past. Joe sounds like he cares for you, and if that’s true, you have to ask yourself if you’re willing to give him the chance to prove that.” Y/N felt the weight of her grandmother’s words sink deep within her. Madea had always been the one who knew exactly what to say, even when it seemed impossible to articulate her own feelings.

Her mother, who had been quietly listening, now placed a hand on Y/N’s. “Madea’s right. Love is messy. But it’s also beautiful. You’ve been through so much loss, baby. And I know it’s hard to trust again, but if you really care about Joe, you owe it to yourself to see where it can go. But you can’t let fear be your decision-maker. You have to trust that it’ll be okay, even if it’s hard.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. Her family had always been a steady anchor in her life, but she had never felt more vulnerable than in that moment. “I’m just so scared, Mama. I’m scared of opening up again, of being hurt. I thought Trey and I were going to grow old together. And now I’m here, trying to move on, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m betraying him somehow.” Madea reached out and gently patted Y/N’s hand. “You’ll never forget Trey. That’s not what I’m saying, baby. But holding onto the past too tightly means you’re not giving the present a chance. What you had with Trey was special, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have something special again. Trey would want you to be happy, Y/N. He would want you to live, to love again, even if it’s scary.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, trying to process all that had been said. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I can let myself love again.” Rachelle, who had been braiding Y/N’s hair the entire time, looked at her with a gentle smile. “Sis, you’re already doing it. You’re talking about it. You’re letting us in. That’s a start, right?”

Y/N nodded, feeling a mixture of fear and hope swirling inside her. She had a long way to go before figuring everything out, but for the first time in a while, she felt like she was on the right path. Her family’s support gave her the strength to take the next step, even if it felt impossible. Madea smiled at her, a small but reassuring smile that told Y/N everything she needed to know. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Just take it one step at a time, baby. And when you’re ready, you’ll know what to do. Just remember, we’re all here for you.”

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. It wasn’t going to be easy. But maybe, just maybe, she could start to heal. Madea, ever the slick and teasing person, couldn’t resist adding her own touch of humor to the serious conversation. She leaned forward in her chair, an impish gleam in her eyes, and smirked at Y/N, making the moment feel lighter. “Not everyone can be perfect like your grandfather and I, you know,” she said, her voice dripping with playful confidence. “Now show me what this Joe looks like. I need to know who’s got my baby’s heart by the reins.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at her grandmother’s teasing tone, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She’d always adored Madea’s ability to turn any serious moment into something fun and lighthearted, a gift that seemed to keep everyone on their toes. Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly, feeling both flattered and caught off guard by the unexpected comment. For a second, she forgot about her worries and just enjoyed being in the moment with her family. The knot of anxiety she’d carried since that argument with Joe seemed to loosen just a little.

“Well, let me show you then,” Y/N replied, her voice light but with a teasing edge of her own as she reached for her phone. She scrolled through Instagram, looking for the group picture from that night at the club—the one that had been posted to Imani's account. It had captured them all in a candid shot: laughing, smiling, and having fun. Joe stood next to her, his arm casually draped around her waist in that way he did when he was feeling comfortable and relaxed. His signature dark tee and jeans, paired with those ever-present sunglasses, gave him that effortlessly cool vibe. Y/N, in her black dress, was grinning as she leaned into him, her hair cascading over her shoulders, the two of them practically glowing under the dim club lights.

With a soft, almost nostalgic smile, Y/N handed the phone to her mother, who eagerly took it. Her mom’s eyes scanned the screen, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips. Rachelle, still braiding Y/N’s hair, leaned over her shoulder, her curiosity piqued as she tried to get a better look. Madea and Y/N’s mom exchanged a quick glance before both of them burst into delighted grins, making Y/N feel like the most loved (and slightly embarrassed) woman in the room.

“Oh, honey, he’s fine!” Madea chuckled, her voice warm but teasing. “Look at him! That man’s got style, and it’s obvious he knows exactly what he’s doing with that look. I see why you’re smitten. I might need to have a little talk with him though. A man who looks like that better not be playing games with my grandbaby.” She winked at Y/N, who couldn’t help but laugh at her grandmother’s unabashed commentary feeling her face heat up.

Y/N’s mom joined in, her eyes soft with amusement. “I’ve never seen you like this before, Y/N. He’s got that handsome, confident air about him, doesn’t he?” She glanced over at her daughter with a knowing smile that made Y/N feel seen, in more ways than one. “You two look great together. Seriously, don’t let him get away. If you don’t take him seriously, I’ll give him a good talking-to myself.”

Rachelle, who had been silently watching the whole interaction, suddenly broke into a teasing grin. “Oh, look at you, sis, all cozy with Mr. Perfect. You’ve been holding out on us.” She reached over to grab the phone from their mother’s hand, scrolling through the picture again with exaggerated curiosity. “This man’s got you smiling like this, huh? Girl, you’ve got taste, I’ll give you that. He looks like the type who would make your heart race and still bring you coffee in the morning.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, feeling the warmth of her family’s laughter and affection wash over her. The teasing felt so natural, so comforting—it made her feel like maybe, just maybe, this was all part of something that wasn’t just temporary. For a moment, the weight of everything that had been hanging over her seemed to lighten. Madea let out a deep sigh, leaning back in her chair, still holding the playful smirk that was so familiar to Y/N. “Well, I approve. He’s got that look that says he knows exactly what he’s about. But don’t let him get too comfortable, baby girl. I’ve got my eye on him.” She winked again, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mix of warmth and humor at her grandmother’s protectiveness.

Y/N’s mom chuckled softly, shaking her head at Madea. “Madea, don’t scare the poor boy off already.” Her voice was a perfect blend of teasing and affection.

Rachelle, still grinning from ear to ear, chimed in with a bit more seriousness. “Just don’t mess it up, Y/N. He seems like a keeper. Not all guys are as good as he looks—trust me.” Her voice had that knowing tone, like she had seen enough of the ups and downs in relationships to know that when it was right, it was worth holding onto. Y/N smiled again, feeling a mixture of relief and warmth. She hadn’t expected her family to be so open, so accepting, so eager to be a part of her life with Joe. Despite the lingering doubts and the uncertainty swirling in her heart, hearing her family speak so fondly of him made everything feel a little more real. It made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t something to run away from, even with the risk of being hurt again.

She’d taken a step forward with Joe. And hearing her family’s teasing approval—Madea’s playful comments, her mother’s gentle but firm words, Rachelle’s knowing smile—it all made her feel like maybe she wasn’t as alone in this as she thought. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who saw what Joe could be—what they could be. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little lighter, like she didn’t have to carry the weight of everything on her shoulders alone. She wasn’t the only one who cared. And for now, that was enough.

“Alright, alright,” Y/N finally said, raising her hands in mock surrender as she felt the playful pressure from all sides. “I get it! He’s great, okay?” She couldn’t help but laugh again, the tension she’d been carrying slowly but surely melting away with the warmth of her family’s love and humor. Madea leaned in close, her grin widening. “That’s right, baby girl. Just don’t let him get too cocky now. You’re the prize here.”

Y/N chuckled and leaned back, feeling more at ease than she had in a long while. Maybe this time, with a little more support from the people who cared about her, she could navigate this thing with Joe. Maybe. For now, she’d let herself enjoy this moment of peace, surrounded by the people who loved her the most.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she scrolled through more pictures of Joe, knowing that her family was getting a kick out of seeing him through her eyes. She pulled up a few more from the Bengals' official Instagram page, showing Joe in his team promo photos. There was one where he was dressed in the Bengals’ black and orange uniform, looking every bit the confident, focused quarterback that he was, with his strong frame and that signature smolder that made him hard to look away from. Another shot showed him laughing with his teammates, his hair a little tousled, his easygoing nature shining through.

“This one’s from the team’s promo shoot,” Y/N said, holding her phone up for them to see. “He looks so serious here, but he’s actually the biggest goofball when he’s not in football mode.” Her mom, still holding the phone, nodded in approval. “I can see that. He’s got that quiet intensity. But then, look at this one—he’s got that playful energy. I can see why you’re drawn to him. A good balance.”

Madea raised an eyebrow as she looked at the photo of Joe laughing with his teammates. “Mmm, I see what you mean. He’s got that swagger, but he doesn’t take himself too seriously. I like that.” She paused and smirked. “And not bad to look at either.” Rachelle, who had been silently observing and braiding Y/N’s hair, suddenly piped up, her voice dripping with mischief. “You know what else I like?” she said, winking at Y/N, who gave her a confused look. “That man’s booty.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing instantly. “Rachelle, really?” She couldn’t help but laugh nervously, trying to ignore the image her sister had just put in her head. Madea, clearly delighted, leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with humor. “Oh, don’t act all innocent now, Y/N. We all see it. That man’s got a fine behind. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t noticing it too. Just don’t tell your grandfather.” She smirked playfully, knowing full well she was getting under her granddaughter's skin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, shaking her head as her family erupted in laughter. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered, trying to maintain some semblance of composure as Rachelle continued to tease her. Rachelle, sensing she had struck a nerve, didn’t let up. “I mean, come on, Y/N. You’ve got a man that’s got the whole package. You’ve got the heart, the mind, and then there’s that… ass.” She laughed at the last part, causing everyone else to join in, including Y/N’s mom, who was clearly enjoying watching the dynamic unfold.

Y/N shot Rachelle a playful glare, but she couldn’t hold back her own laugh. “Okay, okay, I get it. But seriously, can we not talk about his butt like that? I’m still trying to figure out how to not feel like a blushing mess around you guys.” Madea waved her hand dismissively, still chuckling. “Baby, it’s just family. And if he’s really as good as you say, then I’m sure he won’t mind you gushing over his fine physique a little. It’s all part of the charm.”

Rachelle leaned in, eyes gleaming with a teasing glint. “All I’m saying is, you better hold on tight to him, sis. With a booty like that, he’ll have other women chasing him down.” Y/N groaned, though she couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s antics. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, but there was no malice in her voice, just a sense of affection for her sister’s playful nature. Y/N felt her own laughter bubbling up again, as she added, “Okay, fine, I’ll admit it. He’s got a really good butt.” She rolled her eyes at her own admission, but couldn't help but laugh even more when Rachelle gave her a satisfied smirk, like she’d just won some sort of victory.

Her mom, still holding the phone, looked up with a smile. “You know, Y/N, if he’s really the one who’s got your heart, I think we need to have a talk with him. And you might want to warn him about this family.” Y/N’s heart fluttered at the idea of Joe meeting her family, though she wasn’t sure if he was ready for the full-on, playful chaos that came with it. But then again, if he was as good a guy as she thought, he’d fit right in.

Madea leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smile. “Don’t worry, Y/N. If he’s the real deal, he’ll know how to handle us. And we’ll make sure he knows how to treat you right, too.” Y/N took a deep breath, feeling lighter than she had in days. She wasn’t sure what the future held with Joe, but at least for now, surrounded by the love and humor of her family, she could relax and enjoy the moment. Maybe things didn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe they could just be… good.

“Alright,” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender, “enough about Joe’s booty. Let’s get back to my hair before it’s a full-on family roast in here.” Madea chuckled, clearly satisfied with her teasing. “Oh, honey, we’re just getting started.”

Rachelle leaned in, winking again. “Maybe next time we can discuss his you know what.” Y/N groaned dramatically, burying her face in her hands. “I swear, I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

Her family erupted into laughter, Rachelle flashing her an innocent look. “What? Just keeping things interesting, sis. You know we love a good roast around here.” She winked again, her teasing tone light but filled with affection. Madea chuckled softly from her spot across the room. “Oh, honey, it’s all in good fun. But don’t you worry, we’ll have him figured out soon enough. We can’t let just anyone into this family without a little scrutiny.”

Y/N sat back, feeling a wave of warmth wash over her. There was a certain comfort in knowing that no matter how complicated things might get with Joe—or with anything in her life—she had this solid foundation of love and support from her family. The teasing, the jokes, the sense of humor—it was all a reminder that they were there, rooting for her, and willing to call out her choices with love and laughter. As Rachelle continued braiding her hair, the atmosphere in the room lightened. Y/N let herself relax fully into the moment, allowing her laughter to ease the tension she had been holding onto for so long. There were still questions to be answered, uncertainties to be worked through, but for the first time in a while, she felt like things could be okay. Maybe even more than okay.

Her mom looked at her with a soft, knowing smile, her voice gentle. “Y/N, I know this is all new, and I know you’ve been through a lot. But if Joe’s the one you want to be with, if you see something in him, then you don’t have to be afraid to take that step. Just take it slow, and trust your heart.” Madea nodded sagely, her tone surprisingly tender. “Your heart’s been through a lot, baby, but it’s a strong one. Trust it. And don’t let anyone rush you.”

Y/N took in her mom’s words, feeling them settle in her chest. She hadn’t been able to hear it before, but now, with the support of the women who knew her best, it felt easier to breathe. Maybe she didn’t have all the answers about Joe, or about what was going to happen next, but she wasn’t alone in the journey. “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Madea,” she said quietly, giving them both a grateful smile.

Rachelle, still braiding her hair with a focused expression, chimed in, “You know, sis, it’s okay to be scared. But just don’t let that fear stop you from going after what you want. And if Joe is what you want, then you better believe we’ll be here for all of it.” She paused, giving her sister a playful grin. “And, uh, maybe we’ll even help you pick out some cute outfits for the next time you go out with him, just to make sure he’s really getting the full picture.” Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a laugh. “You are too much, Rachelle.”

Her mom chuckled softly. “She’s right, though. You deserve to go after what makes you happy, and if that’s Joe, then we’ll be here to support you every step of the way.” Y/N nodded, feeling lighter than she had in days. Her family’s support, their laughter, their playful teasing—it was exactly what she needed. She was still figuring things out, still processing everything with Joe, but having her family’s love behind her made all the difference.

As the evening stretched on, and the teasing finally subsided, Y/N realized something she hadn’t expected. In the midst of all the questions and uncertainties, she had found a quiet kind of peace. Her family’s affection, their genuine care, and their humor had reminded her of what mattered most—love, connection, and the courage to take chances, even when it felt scary. For the first time in a while, she felt like she could breathe without the weight of everything pressing on her chest. And maybe, just maybe, she could start to believe that things with Joe could be good. No matter where it went, she knew she had people who loved her and had her back, and that was enough for now.

“Alright, enough about Joe’s fine ass and his everything else,” Y/N said, holding up her hands in surrender once more. “Let’s finish this braid before I really lose my mind.”

Her family burst into another round of laughter, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile, knowing that no matter what happened next, she was exactly where she needed to be. The soft murmur of laughter and playful chatter filled the room as Y/N’s dad and grandfather entered the living room, their footsteps heavy but steady, carrying an air of familiarity and strength. Her dad, wearing his worn-in jeans and a loose shirt, paused in the doorway, raising an eyebrow as he surveyed the scene. His lips curled into a teasing grin.

“What’s all this chatter in here?” he asked, his voice warm with amusement, but clearly curious about the burst of laughter coming from the women in the room. Y/N’s mom, who had been seated next to Madea, was pulled up gently by her husband, his strong hand on her waist as he guided her to sit beside him on the couch. His movements were fluid and easy, the kind that only comes with years of being completely in tune with one another. She smiled softly as he settled into his usual spot, his large frame comfortable in the chair, pulling her to sit on his lap, much to everyone’s enjoyment.

Rachelle, never one to pass up an opportunity to tease, leaned back in her chair with a sly grin on her face. “Oh, just ogling Y/N’s fine and shiny man,” she said, her voice filled with playful mischief as she threw Y/N a wink.

Y/N's cheeks flamed instantly, her stomach twisting in that familiar, uncomfortable way whenever her family went full-on into teasing mode. She groaned, throwing her head back in embarrassment. “Rachelle, seriously?” She immediately reached over to pinch her sister’s leg, trying to stifle a laugh but unable to hide the warmth spreading across her face. Her dad and grandfather exchanged an amused glance, their grins matching each other’s. Y/N’s dad chuckled, shaking his head as he shifted a little to get more comfortable. “So, let me get this straight,” he said with a raised brow, his eyes twinkling with humor. “We’re talking about my daughter’s… shiny man?” He couldn't help but laugh as he said it, thoroughly entertained by the way Rachelle was winding her sister up.

Y/N's grandfather, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, his graying beard soft and well-kept, let out a low chuckle, his deep voice rumbling in the room. “Sounds like a fine man if you ask me. I see the girls are giving him their stamp of approval. But, Y/N,” he added, turning his gaze to his granddaughter, “I hope you’re not just all talk about this guy. We’ll need to see him in person before we make any decisions.” He gave her a wink that made everyone laugh. Y/N’s face was a mix of frustration and amusement as she playfully smacked her forehead. “This is not how I imagined coming home,” she muttered under her breath, but she couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at the corners of her lips. She was used to the teasing, but it still felt overwhelming at times, especially when it was about Joe. She wasn’t even sure what was going on with him yet, and here her entire family was, already making assumptions.

Rachelle, obviously reveling in her success, leaned back and stretched her arms over her head in mock innocence. “What? I’m just saying, Y/N’s been holding out on us. You’ve been hanging out with a guy who looks like that and you’re not telling us all the juicy details?”

Y/N’s dad and grandfather exchanged a quick look, both noticing the playful banter happening between the women. Y/N’s dad raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. “Okay, okay, enough of all this giggling,” he said, leaning forward a bit. “Who exactly are we talking about here?” Before Y/N could even open her mouth to respond, Rachelle’s mischievous grin spread wide across her face, her eyes gleaming with playful delight. “Oh, you know,” she said with exaggerated emphasis, “Thickums!” Y/N’s eyes went wide, her face immediately burning a deep shade of crimson. She had been really hoping her sister wouldn’t drop that nickname in front of their parents. She let out a mortified groan, feeling the heat in her cheeks intensifying with every passing second.

Her mom and grandmother both erupted into laughter, loud and full of warmth, the sound echoing through the room. Madea wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still chuckling. “Thickums?” she said between giggles, shaking her head. “Lord, have mercy, girl. You know, if you’re gonna call him that, you better be ready for us to steal him right from under you.” Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes as she couldn’t hide her embarrassment any longer. She felt completely exposed, especially since Rachelle was still sitting behind her, working her braid, leaving her no way to discreetly hide her blushing face. The teasing from her family was relentless, and she was starting to think they were going to milk this for all it was worth.

Y/N's dad smirked, clearly enjoying the show, but his voice was teasing yet laced with affection. “Thickums, huh? Is that what we're calling him now?” He exchanged another glance with Y/N’s grandfather, who was trying—unsuccessfully—not to laugh himself. Grandpa leaned back in his chair, his deep voice rumbling with amusement. “I don’t know, Y/N,” he said, looking at her with a half-smile. “I think I need to see this ‘Thickums’ for myself before I can make any judgments. Sounds like he’s got a whole lot going for him.”

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool, but her hands trembled slightly as she grabbed her phone. The teasing from her family was more than she’d bargained for, but there was no escaping it now. She opened the same photo she had shown earlier—the one from the club, with her and Joe laughing together, him in his signature dark tee and her in her dress, standing close, clearly comfortable in each other’s presence. Y/N handed the phone to her dad, feeling a mix of embarrassment and affection. "Here. This is him," she muttered, hoping the focus would shift onto the photo and not the nickname.

Her dad took the phone, his expression softening as he took in the image of Joe. His eyes scanned the photo, clearly taking in the details of the man who had sparked so much playful banter. After a moment, he looked up at Y/N with a knowing smile. “Well, I can see why you’re all fired up,” he said, a teasing edge to his voice. “Not bad at all. Looks like someone’s got herself a fine man.” He handed the phone to her grandfather, who studied the picture with a thoughtful nod.

Y/N’s grandfather held the phone in his rough hands, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the image. “Mmm,” he grunted, clearly impressed. “I see what you’re talking about. He’s got that charm about him, doesn’t he?” He handed the phone back to Y/N with a wink. “Thickums, huh? Don’t let him hear that one. But yeah, I can see why you like him.”

Y/N felt the pressure start to ease just a little as her dad and grandfather seemed to approve. But the teasing was far from over. Rachelle, now done braiding Y/N’s hair, leaned forward with a sly grin. “I’m just saying,” she added, “Thickums is definitely the whole package.” She waggled her eyebrows dramatically, causing everyone to laugh again, including Y/N’s mom, who was still snickering in the background. Y/N buried her face in her hands, completely overwhelmed, but the laughter around her made it easier to take. It wasn’t mean-spirited—it was just her family being her family. And as much as she tried to hide it, she couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in her chest, knowing they had her back, even if it was in the most embarrassing way possible.

Her dad, sensing his daughter’s discomfort but still enjoying the moment, nudged Y/N gently. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We just want to make sure he’s good enough for you. Thickums or not,” he added with a wink, clearly not letting go of that nickname anytime soon.

Y/N looked at him, half-smiling despite herself. “I’ll never live this down, will I?” Rachelle, still grinning from ear to ear, shook her head. “Not a chance.” Madea leaned in, looking more serious now, though the playful gleam never left her eyes. “Alright, alright, enough with the jokes. But seriously, Y/N, if he’s the one that’s making you smile like this, that’s all that matters. We’ll be here for you, no matter what. And if we need to give him the third-degree, you know we’re ready for that too.” Y/N’s heart warmed at her grandmother’s words, and she nodded gratefully. Despite the teasing, despite the embarrassing moments, this was exactly where she needed to be—surrounded by the people who loved her, and who’d make sure she didn’t settle for anything less than someone who truly cared for her.

With a final sigh, Y/N looked around at her family, her heart a little lighter. “Alright,” she said, “I get it. You all love to embarrass me. But seriously, can we give Joe a break for, like, five minutes?” Her dad laughed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “We’ll see, kiddo. But don’t think he’s getting off the hook that easy. He’s got us to deal with now.”

Y/N groaned, trying desperately to steer the attention away from herself. She sat up straighter, shaking her head and letting out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, okay, can we please focus on something else? How about we talk about anything but Joe's ‘fine behind’?” she pleaded, her face still flushed from the teasing. But her sister Rachelle, always one to seize an opportunity, smirked and leaned in with that mischievous glint in her eye. “You know, Y/N, I’m just trying to make sure you’re not missing out on anything important.” She turned to their grandmother. “Madea, tell us again what you said earlier. I’m sure everyone would love to hear that little gem.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in horror as Rachelle opened the floodgates. “Rachelle, no!” she hissed under her breath, but it was already too late. Madea, clearly enjoying every second of it, leaned back in her chair and gave Y/N a sly grin. “Oh, honey, don’t act all innocent now,” she teased. “I said, We all see it. That man’s got a fine behind. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t noticing it too. Just don’t tell your grandfather.”

Y/N's mouth dropped open in disbelief, her face turning an even deeper shade of red as the room erupted in laughter. Her grandfather, pretending to be scandalized, put a hand over his heart and let out an exaggerated gasp. “Might have to break out these big boys,” he said, flexing his biceps with a grin that was equal parts playful and intimidating. He flexed both arms, his muscles bulging comically as he looked down at his biceps. “Can’t have this youngster stealing my lady,” he added, giving an exaggerated wink to Madea, who just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

The sight of Y/N’s tough grandfather striking a bodybuilder pose sent everyone into fits of laughter again. Y/N covered her face with both hands, laughing despite herself. “Grandpa, please stop,” she begged, unable to hold back her giggles. “I can’t take this anymore!” Her dad, still chuckling, leaned over to Y/N and whispered, “You know, if he keeps flexing like that, you might have some competition, kiddo. You might have to start watching your back!”

Her mom joined in, nudging her husband teasingly. “Careful now, you might not be the only one getting attention around here.” Y/N threw her hands up in defeat, laughing through the embarrassment. “I swear, this family is impossible,” she muttered, though there was no real heat in her words. She couldn’t help but feel grateful for the warmth and humor in the room, even if it came at her expense.

Madea, wiping away a tear of laughter, turned back to Y/N with a softer smile. “Baby, we’re just playing. But seriously—if he’s the one who’s making you happy, then that’s all that matters. You deserve someone who treats you right.” Her tone turned a little more serious, but the playful twinkle never left her eyes. “You’ve been through a lot, Y/N. Don’t let anything or anyone take that smile away from you.” Y/N’s heart swelled at her grandmother’s words, and she nodded, feeling a rush of affection for her family. It was moments like this—these lighthearted, chaotic, and sometimes embarrassing moments—that reminded her how lucky she was to be surrounded by people who loved her unconditionally.

Her grandfather leaned forward again, his flexing arm still on display, as he added, “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll keep an eye on him. Thickums or not, he’ll have to pass the family test first.” Everyone laughed again, and Y/N could only shake her head, feeling the weight of the world slip off her shoulders. She had never expected a reunion with her family to involve so much teasing, but it was exactly what she needed. It was normal. It was love. And most importantly, it made her realize just how lucky she was to be able to share her life with them, no matter how complicated things might get with Joe.

As the laughter died down, Y/N found herself smiling more than she had in days. For the first time in a while, she felt lighter, like maybe she wasn’t carrying all the weight of her emotions alone. Her family’s playful teasing, their support, and their love made it clear that no matter what happened with Joe, she had a solid foundation to stand on.

And that, for now, was enough.

Her dad grinned, his hand resting on his wife’s waist as he looked at Y/N with that affectionate yet protective gaze he always had. “Well, if he’s someone worth keeping around, we’ll meet him eventually, won’t we? It’s only a matter of time. But just know, young lady, we’re a tough crowd to impress.” He winked at his daughter, though his tone was lighthearted. He knew the way the world could be, and he didn’t want her to rush into anything she wasn’t sure about.

Y/N's grandfather, ever the man of few words but plenty of wisdom, leaned forward slightly, his deep-set eyes locked on Y/N. “That’s right,” he said, his tone firm yet filled with the same warmth that had been a constant in her life. “You take your time, girl. No need to rush into anything. But remember, family’s always watching, and we’ll always have your back.” Y/N’s heart swelled with appreciation, knowing that even if they were teasing her relentlessly, her family would never let her go through anything alone. They had her back, and that meant more than anything.

Rachelle nudged her again, this time more gently, but still with a playful grin. “Don’t act so embarrassed, sis. You’re the one who’s been keeping Mr. Shiny Man a secret for so long. We just wanna make sure he’s good enough for you.” Y/N shook her head, her laughter finally bubbling up, the tension in her chest easing just a little. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re all ridiculous,” she said, her eyes dancing with amusement. “But can we please, please stop talking about Joe’s ‘shiny’—and apparently fine—body parts?”

Her mom laughed softly as she leaned back against her husband’s chest, clearly enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment. “We’re just teasing, Y/N. And hey, if he’s really ‘the one,’ we’ll let him stick around for a while. We’re just making sure he knows he’s entering the lion’s den.” Y/N sighed, her head resting back against the couch as she exchanged a look with Rachelle. “Well, if he ever meets all of you, I’m pretty sure he’ll run for the hills.”

Her dad let out a deep laugh, pulling her mom in a little closer. “I doubt it, sweetheart. If he’s got any sense, he’ll stick around and show us he’s worthy of being in this family. We’ve got a way of testing people, you know.” Y/N smirked, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think Joe’s ready for all of you, but we'll see.”

Her grandfather chuckled again, his voice steady as he leaned back in his chair. “Don’t worry, girl. If he’s a good man, he’ll know how to hold his ground. We just want what’s best for you.” Y/N couldn’t help but smile, feeling a deep sense of love and warmth wash over her. Despite all the chaos and the teasing, there was no mistaking how much her family cared for her. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to guide her through the uncertainty with Joe. With that, the conversation drifted to lighter, more casual topics, and the room filled with easy laughter once again. Y/N knew things with Joe weren’t simple, but with the love and support of her family, she felt like she could take on whatever came next—teasing, challenges, and all.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Joe sat on the edge of his bed, phone clutched tightly in his hand as he stared at the picture that had caused so much trouble. He knew the photo didn’t paint the full picture. In fact, it barely scratched the surface of what had really happened. The woman in the photo had been nothing but a distraction, and Joe had brushed her off within seconds. But of course, people didn’t see that. They saw what they wanted to see—a picture that could easily be misconstrued, especially with the rumors that would inevitably follow.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up. Joe had never been one to care much about rumors, but when it came to Y/N—when it came to her feelings—he couldn’t stand to see her hurt by something he hadn’t even done. He needed to make sure she knew the truth. He needed to make sure she knew he was all in. His fingers hovered over the screen, wondering how best to explain himself. He’d already tried texting her, but she’d gone silent on him, and that was driving him insane. He couldn’t just let it slide. Joe wasn’t that kind of guy. Not when it came to Y/N.

Sighing, he opened up his messages to Imani and Keisha. At least they could help him figure out how to approach this. They both knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t interested in anyone else. He was focused on Y/N, and that was the only person he cared about. “Hey, just wanted to clear this up. That picture from the bar—nothing happened. I brushed the girl off right after that. I’m all in when it comes to Y/N, and I mean that. I’ve been trying to figure out how to explain this to her, but she stopped texting me, and I’m not sure what to do now.”

He paused for a moment, then added more, wanting to drive his point home. “I really care about her, and I’m not trying to mess this up. Just don’t know how to get through to her right now.” He stared at the message for a moment before hitting send. As soon as he did, he felt a little better—like he had put his thoughts out into the world, and now he just had to wait for a response. He sat back, running his hands over his face, trying to shake off the nerves that were eating at him. He knew he needed to stay calm, but everything felt so up in the air. How could he get Y/N to trust him again when she probably thought he had been flirting with someone else? Worse, what if she thought he was playing games with her?

His phone buzzed, and he scrambled to grab it, hoping for some kind of answer. Imani had replied first. Imani: “I got your back, Joe. Don’t worry about the rumors. We’ll help you get in touch with her. We know you’re serious about her.”

Joe’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he read her message. He wasn’t completely alone in this. Keisha: “You just gotta be patient, Joe. She’s probably just processing everything. But if you’re really in it for her, she’ll come around. Just give her space and time.”

Joe nodded to himself, feeling a little more grounded. Both Imani and Keisha were right—he couldn’t force anything. He had to give Y/N the time she needed to think things through. All he could do was make sure she knew where he stood. And that meant being honest, even if it was tough. He quickly typed out a response to both of them. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it. I just need to figure out what to do next. I’ll stay patient, but I can’t just leave it like this. I’ll get to her somehow.”

He took a deep breath and set his phone down, pushing aside the nagging feeling in his chest. It wasn’t going to help him to sit here and dwell on it. He needed to focus—on practice, on everything else that needed his attention. If he could manage to focus on the field, maybe that would help calm his nerves. He stood up, moving toward his closet. He quickly picked out a black T-shirt that fit just right, a pair of dark jeans, and his favorite sneakers. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he buttoned up his shirt. His face still looked a little worn, tired from the lack of sleep and the constant worry over Y/N. He’d been so distracted that he hadn’t even had the chance to focus on his own preparation for the day.

Shaking his head, Joe grabbed his keys, his mind still on Y/N. The idea of her being hurt by the picture gnawed at him. He wasn’t sure when she’d stopped texting him—he hadn’t noticed at first, too wrapped up in his own stress. But now that he realized it, he was even more concerned. Had he completely messed things up? Was she over him already? As he left his hotel room, he tried to shake the thoughts off, but they clung to him. He had a meeting with his publicist before practice. Hopefully, she would help him figure out what to do next—maybe even give him some advice on how to deal with the media fallout from the picture.

The brisk morning air hit his face as he walked to the car, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was heading in the right direction with all of this. What if Y/N never came around? What if this was it? He pushed the thought aside as he slid into his car. He’d dealt with pressure before. This was no different. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. Not now.

Driving to the facility, his phone buzzed again, but he didn’t check it. He needed to focus. There would be time to figure things out with Y/N later. Right now, he had a responsibility to the team, to himself, and to the future they could still have—if she gave him the chance. He reached the facility just as the morning sun began to light up the parking lot, and for the first time today, he felt a flicker of hope that maybe things would get better. He just needed to get through this. And then, hopefully, he’d get the chance to prove to Y/N that he was all in. Joe sat down in the small conference room with his publicist, Rachel, who had already started laying out the plan. He knew he needed to be proactive in handling the fallout from the photo, especially since things with Y/N were still up in the air.

Rachel was calm, methodical, and professional, everything Joe admired in someone who handled the media side of his career. She laid out several ideas for press statements, interviews, and how he could navigate the next few days. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” Rachel said, her fingers tapping on her tablet. “We can issue a statement, but it’s important that we don’t overdo it. The more you try to over-explain, the more people will speculate. Instead, we’ll make it clear that you’ve been focused on football, that the rumors aren’t accurate, and that you’re focused on moving forward. People love a quiet, confident response. It’ll play in your favor.”

Joe nodded, running a hand through his hair as he absorbed her words. “I agree,” he said. “Just make sure Y/N doesn’t feel like she’s getting lost in this, too. I need her to know that I’m all in, and that this isn't some... short-term thing.” Rachel gave him a look, half sympathetic, half amused. “I get it, Joe. But you can’t control what the media says. What you can control is your own actions. Focus on that. Let Y/N see that you’re serious.” “I will,” Joe said, standing up as the meeting wrapped. He felt a little better, more in control. The plan would work—he just had to stick to it. After all, getting his life back on track, both professionally and personally, was what mattered most.

He left the meeting feeling lighter and more focused. His publicist had given him a roadmap, but now he had to focus on the biggest priority: Y/N. He couldn’t let this mess with her linger. His thoughts were still running wild as he walked through the locker room to the practice field, and he made sure to make a quick stop at the coach's office before heading out. He was already mentally preparing himself for how he would address Y/N when he saw her. He could handle this. He just needed to talk to her.

But when he stepped onto the field and saw Keisha and Imani standing together by the water cooler, he immediately noticed the absence. No Y/N. His chest tightened, and a small knot formed in his stomach. Walking up to the girls during the break, he gave them a small wave, but his gaze quickly shifted to the empty spot where Y/N usually stood. It was hard not to notice her absence—it was like the air felt different without her there.

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He wasn’t sure why he felt this strange sense of dread, but he couldn’t shake it. She’d been avoiding his texts, but he had hoped she’d be here. Imani and Keisha exchanged a look. The way their eyes flicked between each other immediately made Joe uneasy. He opened his mouth, ready to ask again, but Imani sighed, her face softening in sympathy.

“She went home, Joe,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with hesitation. Joe’s heart stopped for a beat. His feet felt like they were glued to the ground as the words registered in his brain. “Home?” he asked, his tone a little sharper than he meant. “What do you mean, she went home?” Keisha stepped forward, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, her voice gentle but firm. “She went back to Louisiana. She wasn’t answering your texts, and she needed space. It’s been a lot with everything happening at once. She just needed to go back to her family for a while.”

Joe stood there, shocked, unable to fully process what he was hearing. “She—she left?” He repeated the words to himself as if they didn’t make sense, his mind racing. Imani shifted on her feet, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, Joe… I know this wasn’t how you wanted things to go. But she’s been through a lot, and when things get too overwhelming, Y/N shuts down. She doesn’t always handle things in the most obvious way. And right now, she just needs time.”

Joe’s mind spun, the words blurring together. She’s gone? All of the plans he had—his ideas about clearing things up with her, telling her how serious he was—seemed to be slipping through his fingers. “She didn’t say anything to me,” Joe muttered under his breath, his frustration seeping into his voice. He couldn't stop the feeling of helplessness that was creeping in. He hadn’t gotten a chance to explain himself, and now, she was halfway across the country.

Imani and Keisha both looked at him with sympathy, but neither one of them said anything more. They knew how he felt about Y/N—how much he wanted to make things right. They also knew that trying to push things too much with Y/N was only going to make things worse. “I need to call her,” Joe said, his voice thick with frustration. His thumb hovered over his phone screen, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. His heart was racing, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “Joe, you’re going to have to let her come to you,” Keisha said softly. “You can’t fix this by pushing. Just give her the space she needs. She’s with her family right now. She’ll reach out when she’s ready.”

Joe took a deep breath, his mind spinning. He had to let go, at least for now. But the uncertainty was killing him. Would she reach out? Would she come back to him when she was ready? All he could do was wait, and that was the hardest part of all. He let out a slow breath and nodded at Keisha and Imani, forcing a smile as he turned toward the field. But the weight of everything—his career, Y/N, the distance between them—felt heavier than ever. And for the first time in a long while, Joe wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the day.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

The car ride to the cemetery was quiet, with the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the wind outside filling the space. Rachelle drove, her hands relaxed on the wheel, but Y/N could tell her sister was just as lost in thought as she was. It wasn’t that they didn’t talk—they had their moments of casual chatter—but today felt different. Y/N had been quiet since they left the house, her eyes staring out the window, thinking about everything that had happened over the past few days. When they arrived, Y/N could already feel the weight of the place before they even got out of the car. The cemetery was peaceful, almost serene, but it carried the weight of memories she wasn’t sure she was ready to face. But she had to. For herself. For Trey. For the clarity she needed.

Rachelle parked the car, and Y/N both got out. She grabbed the picnic basket from the backseat, her hands tight around the handle. It was something she’d done countless times before—coming here with a basket full of food, flowers, and a blanket. It had become a kind of tradition, a ritual of sorts, that she had built with herself. She didn’t know when it started, but at some point after Trey’s passing, she began to bring food and sit there, talking to the gravestone like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She walked slowly down the path, the crunch of gravel under their feet the only sound besides their quiet breaths. Rachelle gave her a glance, but Y/N didn’t look up. She knew her sister was probably worried, but Y/N wasn’t ready to talk just yet. Her sister Rachelle had stayed in the car, giving her the space she needed. Y/N knew that Rachelle would have stayed by her side if she asked, but this was something she needed to do on her own. It had always been like this when she came here, a ritual she had built for herself after everything had happened with Trey. She would come, talk to him, cry, laugh, and sometimes, she would even feel a little bit of peace.

She walked slowly down the path, the crunch of gravel under her feet the only sound besides their quiet breaths. When she reached Trey’s plot, Y/N stopped. It felt like time had frozen for a moment, the reality of the cemetery settling around her like an unspoken weight. She stood there, looking down at the headstone, feeling the familiar ache in her chest. The stone was cool to the touch as she gently ran her fingers along it, brushing off some dust that had settled over the years. She could almost feel him there, like she always did when she visited. The wind was still, the trees barely rustling in the background, and it felt almost as though the whole world was waiting for her to speak.

She set down the basket and flowers and then spread the blanket over the grass, letting out a deep sigh as she sat down, her legs crossed. The soft fabric of the blanket felt comforting beneath her, a grounding sensation she desperately needed. She wiped away the few tears that had started to well in her eyes, her breath shaky as she gathered her thoughts. The cemetery was quiet, with only the soft rustling of the wind and the occasional bird calling out in the distance. Y/N sat on the blanket, feeling the weight of the moment settle around her. It had been a while since she had come here like this, with the flowers and the food, but today it felt right. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for—some sort of answer from the universe, a sign from Trey, or just the comfort of being near him again. Whatever it was, it was something she needed.

The picnic basket sat beside her, and she carefully unpacked it, laying out the food and drink she had brought. She hadn’t been hungry in the usual sense, but there was something comforting about the act of preparing a meal, of feeling like she was still giving something to Trey, even though he wasn’t there in the way she wished he were. She had brought his favorite foods: a sandwich, chips, and some fruit. It wasn’t much, but it was what she could offer. Y/N carefully set the flowers down on the grave, the white lilies a stark contrast to the deep green of the grass. She paused for a moment, allowing herself a few seconds to breathe, to reflect on the person Trey had been and how much she had loved him. The grief still hung on her like a heavy cloak, but somehow, being here, by his side, gave her a feeling of closeness that she hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.

"Hey, Trey," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur, the words tasting bittersweet on her tongue. Her fingers twisting the ring, the engagement ring he had given her, that was held by a gold chain. The symbol of the promise of their stolen future, their forever. "I know I’ve been gone for a little while… but I needed to come talk to you." Her heart clenched at the emptiness that seemed to echo between her words and the grave. She wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him in some hopeful, naive way or if it was just a way of keeping his memory alive in her. Either way, it was what she needed. She had to.

"I’ve been… I’ve been figuring things out, Trey. But it's hard. You know how I am with all this change." She let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "It’s like everything is moving so fast, and I don’t know if I’m ready for all of it. Joe, him being in my life again—it's been a whirlwind, and part of me wants to pull away from it all because I’m scared of getting hurt. But I can't stop thinking about him." Y/N paused, closing her eyes for a moment. She tried to picture Trey’s face, his smile, the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make her feel safe. But that was before. Before the tragedy that had torn everything apart.

"Do you think I’m doing the right thing?" she asked, her voice wavering. "I keep thinking about what you’d say, and I don’t know, maybe it’s just me being afraid of letting someone in again. I don't want to lose someone like I lost you." The words hung in the air, leaving an emptiness that only made the pain sharper. She looked down at the flowers she’d brought—a bouquet of his favorite white lilies—and carefully set them down at the base of the stone, her fingers lingering there as if she were waiting for something to come back to her. "You always said I should keep moving forward," she whispered, her voice soft, as if she were afraid the wind would carry her words away. "But I don’t know how, Trey. I don’t know how to move forward without you. How do I do this? How do I let someone else in when it feels like my heart is still yours?"

Her heart clenched as the memories of their time together rushed forward—Trey's laugh, the way he held her hand, the way he made her feel safe, no matter what. She could almost hear his voice in her head, teasing her about being dramatic, about being too much of a perfectionist. But his words always had a way of calming her down. His confidence in her, his love for her—it was something she’d never find again. Or at least, she didn’t think she could. Y/N let her fingers trail along the edge of the gravestone, the cool stone against her skin offering some semblance of comfort. "I keep thinking about Joe. About how much I want to let him in. But then I get scared. I get scared because of what happened. What if I lose him, too? What if my heart breaks again, and I can’t handle it?"

She felt a lump rise in her throat, the emotion threatening to break through the surface. She didn’t want to cry—didn’t want to feel that raw, aching sadness again—but she couldn’t stop it. Her tears fell softly onto the blanket, the weight of everything pushing down on her chest. "I don’t know, Trey," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I’m so scared. But at the same time, I feel like I should be. Joe—he makes me feel things I didn’t think I could feel again. But then I pull away, and I don’t know how to stop."

The words seemed to linger in the air, unanswered, hanging between her and the grave. She wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him for reassurance, or if it was just something she needed to say out loud to finally get some clarity. It felt like a moment of surrender, one where she admitted to herself that maybe she was ready. But it also felt like a fragile moment—like saying it out loud would somehow make it real, and if it didn’t work out, the pain would be even harder to bear. Y/N wiped the tears from her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. She was exhausted from carrying all this weight by herself. She needed to be strong, but it was hard. "I want to make it work with him, Trey. I really do. But I’m scared. I don’t want to mess things up."

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath around her, the stillness of the cemetery providing an almost sacred space for her to let out all the emotions she had been bottling up. The wind picked up slightly, rustling the leaves on the nearby trees.

Rachelle, could be seen through the windows, her figure still in the driver’s seat, waiting patiently for her sister. Y/N knew that her sister was giving her the space she needed. And Y/N was grateful for it, knowing that Rachelle would never push her to do anything before she was ready. But still, part of Y/N wished her sister would come over, sit beside her, and offer her some words of wisdom. Rachelle had always been the practical one, the one who helped Y/N see things clearly when her emotions clouded her judgment. She was the one who knew when to listen and when to speak, and Y/N appreciated that more than she could ever say.

Y/N finally looked down at the basket again, reaching for the small sandwich she had packed for herself. She picked it up absently, but before she could take a bite, she glanced at the spot next to her, where Trey’s gravestone stood, as if waiting for a response. She hadn’t expected one, but in that moment, it almost felt as if he were there, sitting beside her, offering the comfort she so desperately needed. "I don’t know if I’ll ever fully be ready for everything, Trey. But I’m going to try. I’m going to try for myself... and for him." With that, she finally ate, the first bite a small but significant act of moving forward. She wasn’t sure what would come next, or how everything would unfold with Joe. But sitting there, with Trey’s memory as her anchor and the cool air brushing against her face, she knew that at least for this moment, she was okay. And sometimes, that was enough.

The journey wasn’t over, but it had started again in a way she hadn’t expected. She didn’t have all the answers, and she wasn’t sure how things with Joe would play out, but she knew one thing for sure—she was ready to keep moving forward. Y/N sat quietly on the blanket, the cemetery stretching out around her in peaceful, almost reverential silence. The distant sound of rustling leaves was the only sound that disturbed the stillness, but even that felt like it was part of the moment—part of the conversation she was having, not just with the gravestone but with the memories of Trey that still lived within her.

Her fingers ran over the smooth, cold surface of the marble stone as if tracing the edges of time itself. The etching of Trey’s name under his smiling face still caught her breath, reminding her of a time when the world felt more certain, when love had been full of possibility instead of this quiet, lingering grief. As she sat there, the weight of everything—the loss, the love, the past, the future—pressed gently against her chest. She felt the pressure of it but didn't pull away. She couldn’t. Not yet. "You know I'll love you forever, Trey," she whispered, the words coming softly, but with such intensity that it almost hurt. It wasn’t just a promise anymore; it was the truth, a truth so deeply embedded in her heart that it would never leave.

Her voice cracked, faltering under the strain of emotions she’d carried for so long, but she pushed through it. She couldn’t break down now, not here, not when she’d made her way to this moment. There was a delicate sort of peace in this place, and she was determined to hold onto it. The sun was beginning its descent behind the trees, casting a warm glow across the cemetery. Y/N lowered her gaze, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the smooth surface of the stone. She needed something—anything—to help her bridge the gap between now and then. She needed to know, in some way, that he was still with her, that his spirit wasn’t lost in time but instead remained a part of her, like a thread woven into the fabric of her life.

Her heart twisted as she remembered the days they had spent together, the simple, happy moments that now seemed both distant and near, like memories of a dream she couldn’t fully recall. She missed him with every fiber of her being. Her hand, still trembling, came up to her lips, brushing over them before pressing a soft kiss to her fingers. With that gentle touch, she carried the kiss across the space between her and the gravestone, placing her hand gently on the cool, smooth surface of the marble just above Trey’s smiling face. The gesture felt both strange and comforting, as if she were reaching out to him across time and space, trying to touch a piece of him that remained here, in this place.

“Please,” she whispered, the words coming barely above a murmur, but to her they felt as significant as a prayer. “Give me a sign that you're still here with me. I need to know you're still with me, in some way.” The stillness stretched, filled only by the distant hum of nature and the soft breeze that whispered through the trees. For a moment, it felt as if nothing would come. And she was okay with that. She had asked the universe for a sign many times before, each time hoping for something, anything to help her feel connected to him again. But maybe there was no sign to be given. Maybe it was just about holding onto the love and memories, trusting that they were enough.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her chest tight, as if the simple act of hoping might shatter the delicate peace she had found. She felt, for just an instant, that familiar ache, the kind that always came when she thought of Trey. It wasn’t just the pain of missing him—it was the absence of his presence in her life, the silent space he had left behind. Then, as though the world was answering her, the wind shifted. A rustling of leaves stirred, soft at first, then louder, like nature itself was awakening to the moment. Her heart skipped as a flutter of movement caught her eye. She turned, and there, perched right on the marble stone above Trey’s picture, was a cardinal.

Its feathers were a striking red, a splash of color against the muted landscape of the cemetery. It sat there, still and unhurried, its beady black eyes fixed on Y/N. She held her breath, her heart racing, as she stared at the bird. It wasn’t just the beauty of the bird—it was the way it seemed to know her. It was as if it understood everything she was feeling, every unspoken word, every piece of her heart laid bare. The cardinal remained motionless, just watching her. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her mind struggling to comprehend the coincidence, or maybe it wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe, just maybe, this was the sign she had been hoping for. Her heart felt like it had been struck by lightning, a surge of emotion so intense that it almost made her dizzy.

She couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, a soft laugh escaping her lips, one filled with wonder, disbelief, and joy. "Trey?" she whispered, barely above a breath. Her voice cracked, unsure if she was speaking to the cardinal or to the memory of him that still lived within her. "Is that you?" The cardinal tilted its head, its gaze unwavering, as if acknowledging her question. It stayed there, still and beautiful, as if it had all the time in the world to share this moment with her. And in that moment, Y/N felt a shift inside her—a sense of peace, of connection, that she hadn’t felt in so long. It was fleeting, but it was enough.

It was enough to remind her that Trey wasn’t truly gone. Not in the way she had feared. Maybe he wasn’t physically here, but somehow, in ways she couldn’t fully explain, he was still watching over her, still part of her life, still a part of her. Y/N smiled through the tears, the weight of everything lifting just a little bit. She stayed there for a few moments longer, watching the cardinal, letting the magic of the moment wash over her. When it finally fluttered its wings and took flight, soaring into the sky, Y/N felt the tightness in her chest loosen.

The bird disappeared into the horizon, but Y/N wasn’t sad. Instead, she felt something lighter, something that felt like hope. Like a fresh breath after a long, suffocating silence.

"I’ll always love you, Trey," she said, her voice stronger now, her resolve settling in her chest. She paused, taking a moment to gather herself. "Thank you. Thank you for being with me, even now." With one last lingering glance at the gravestone, she slowly stood, brushing the dirt from her hands. She packed up the picnic basket with a sense of calm she hadn’t expected, moving deliberately, the rhythm of her actions grounding her. The grief would always be there, woven into the fabric of her life, but now, so was a sense of peace—of understanding.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp, cool air of the cemetery. It felt like the air had shifted too, like a weight had been lifted from the world. She wasn’t sure where the next step would take her, but for the first time in a long while, she felt ready to move forward. Maybe not quickly, but slowly, with the knowledge that the past could coexist with the present, that love could remain even after loss. And for the first time in days, Y/N felt the stirrings of hope, like the cardinal’s flight had carried something with it—something she could hold on to, even in the darkest of times. And maybe, just maybe, that was all she needed.

The next day, Y/N woke up with a weight in her chest, a heaviness that settled over her as she slowly peeled her eyes open to the dim morning light. The events of the previous day—her quiet visit to Trey’s grave, the unexpected sign of the cardinal—still clung to her like a blanket she couldn’t shake off. It felt almost unreal, the way everything had unfolded. But today, she had to face something else, something just as emotionally charged. Today, she was going to visit Trey’s family—his parents, and his younger sister, Londyn.

As she sat at the kitchen table, nursing her coffee, Y/N’s fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of the mug. The heat from the cup seeped into her hands, but it did little to ease the cold knot tightening in her stomach. Her thoughts circled in a quiet storm. What would they think of me now? she wondered. Would they see the change in me, the shift I feel deep in my heart? It wasn’t that she wanted to forget Trey, or replace him—nothing would ever do that. But there was something about Joe that had slowly worked its way into her life, into her heart. She hadn’t expected it, couldn’t have predicted it, but the connection was undeniable. Joe had become a constant in her thoughts, a presence she hadn’t been able to ignore. And yet, the idea of telling Trey’s family about him—letting them know she was letting her heart belong to someone else—was like trying to speak a language she wasn’t sure they’d understand.

Her mind flickered to the first time she had met Joe, to the way their chemistry had been instant, a spark she couldn’t explain. Even though it felt right, she couldn’t shake the fear of what it might mean for her relationship with Trey’s family. She had been so intertwined with them, and Trey’s memory was so deeply embedded in the fabric of their lives. How would they take it? How would they feel knowing that, slowly but surely, she was finding a new place in her heart for someone else?

A deep sigh escaped her lips as she set the mug down. She had been avoiding the question, the rawness of it, but today it would have to be faced. She wasn’t sure if she was ready, but she had to try. She owed it to herself, to Trey, and to his family.

The drive to their house felt like it took forever, every mile stretching on for what felt like hours, each passing street deepening the well of anxiety in her stomach. The familiar neighborhood was the same as it had always been, yet, to Y/N, it now felt different, like an old song played on a broken record, a reminder of what was lost and what could never be again. She drove past houses where children played in their front yards, their laughter ringing in the air, and it made her heart ache for a future she would never have with Trey. The streets had always felt so full of life when Trey had been there, his exuberance, his voice, his laughter filling the spaces. But now, those same streets felt eerily quiet, a silence that echoed all the memories she had built with him and the ones they would never get to share.

As she approached the house, her breath caught in her throat. The familiar sight of the porch with its rows of potted plants, the ones Trey’s mom, Carla, had always tended to with such care, was still there. The swing, that old wooden thing that creaked with every movement, still hung from the sturdy oak tree in the front yard. The sight of it all should have been comforting, nostalgic even, but instead, it felt like a reminder of everything she had lost. The house, warm and inviting as it was, seemed to magnify the absence of Trey. The void was so palpable, so real, that it almost made her want to turn back.

Her heart felt heavy in her chest, her hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel. She sat there for a moment, staring at the house. A thousand memories danced in her mind—the way Trey’s laugh had filled this space, the smell of his mother’s cooking, the sound of Londyn’s voice echoing through the halls. It was all still there, but so much of it was tainted by the fact that Trey was no longer here. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, before reaching for the door handle. She couldn’t avoid this forever. She couldn’t let her fear and guilt keep her from being there for them, for showing up and honoring the connection she had with them all. They had been her family, too, and she owed it to them to be honest. To show up, no matter how much it made her heart ache.

Her feet moved almost automatically as she walked up the familiar front steps, each one creaking under her weight. She could almost hear Trey’s voice, teasing her about how she always took the steps too fast. It almost made her smile, but the ache that followed was too strong. When she reached the door, she hesitated for just a moment, gathering her thoughts. A deep breath escaped her, and she rang the doorbell.

The sound echoed in the quiet air, and she waited. For a long second, everything seemed to stand still. Then, the door creaked open, and Londyn’s face appeared, her smile lighting up as she saw Y/N standing there. “Y/N!” Londyn exclaimed, stepping forward to wrap her in a tight hug. “You actually came! I’m so happy to see you.” Y/N squeezed her back, holding on a little longer than usual. Londyn’s embrace was a comfort, a small anchor in the sea of emotions that had been swirling in her chest. It felt familiar, like a piece of home she hadn’t realized she was missing. As they pulled away, Y/N noticed the slight hesitation in Londyn’s eyes, the soft sadness that lingered there. “I’m so glad to see you too, Londyn,” Y/N said, her voice a little unsteady. Londyn gave her a small, almost nervous smile. “Mom and Dad are inside. They’ve been asking about you. We’ve all missed you.” Y/N nodded, feeling her throat tighten. “I’ve missed you guys too.”

Stepping inside the house was like stepping into a memory. The scent of home—of dinner cooking in the kitchen, the faint hum of the TV from the living room—welcomed her in, but it all felt slightly off. The absence of Trey seemed louder here, and she couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in her gut. What if they noticed the changes in her? What if they could see that she wasn’t quite the same? Carla, Trey’s mom, appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her warm, welcoming smile softened when she saw Y/N standing there.

“Y/N, darling,” Carla said, her voice full of affection as she pulled Y/N into a hug. “I’m so happy you came by. It’s been too long.” Y/N smiled weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed you.” Carla held her at arm’s length, studying her face, and Y/N could see the concern in her eyes. “How are you really, sweetheart?” she asked gently, her tone full of love and care.  Y/N blinked back the sudden tears threatening to spill over. “I’m doing okay,” she whispered. “I’m just… still figuring things out.” Marcus, Trey’s dad, appeared from the hallway, and his warm smile was a comfort. He stepped forward and wrapped Y/N in a hug as well. “Good to see you, kiddo,” he said, his voice deep and reassuring. “It’s always a pleasure to have you here.”

As they moved into the living room, the weight of unspoken words hung in the air. Y/N could feel it—the subtle tension, the sense of waiting. They wanted her to open up, to share what had been happening in her life, and part of her wanted to do that. But another part of her hesitated, unsure of how to even begin. As they settled into the familiar living room, the comfort of the space wrapped around Y/N like a warm embrace. The couch, worn from years of use, seemed to settle into its own little niche in the world—much like Y/N herself had tried to do since losing Trey. The air carried the comforting scent of stew bubbling away on the stove, the rich aroma of home-cooked love filling the room. Y/N felt the tug of nostalgia, that bittersweet ache of remembering happier times. The laughter. The conversations. The life they had all shared before the world had changed.

But this was now, and the weight of the unspoken words between them felt heavy, suspended in the air. She could feel it—a quiet expectation. They were waiting for her to share something, something they all knew was coming but had never dared ask. It wasn’t a question that needed words; it was in the way they looked at her, the way they were waiting for her to speak the truth she hadn’t quite been able to say out loud. They started with small talk, the kind that filled the awkward silences before anything more important could be addressed. Y/N told them about her new life in Cincinnati, the new job with the Bengals, the excitement she’d found in the city. She spoke about her teammates, the community, and the little joys she’d discovered in the midst of all the chaos that came with change. The words came easier than she expected, flowing out like a balm to soothe the raw edges of her grief. For a moment, it almost felt like things were normal again.

“The team’s been amazing,” Y/N said, leaning back slightly on the couch as she tucked her legs underneath her. She could feel the warmth of the room soaking into her skin, making her feel grounded. “And the fans are incredible. It’s so different from New Orleans, but in a good way. I didn’t know how much I’d enjoy the change.” Carla and Marcus exchanged a glance, their faces warm with pride and understanding. They were happy for her, Y/N could see that. But behind their smiles, she could sense the questions, the lingering curiosity about what was going on in her heart. They knew she had been through so much, and now they could see her emerging from the fog, moving forward in ways they hadn’t expected—but hadn’t quite dared to ask about.

“Bet you never thought you’d be wearing those Bengals colors, huh?” Marcus teased with a grin, nudging her gently with his elbow. “I can’t picture you trading in the Saints for them forever.” Y/N laughed softly, her heart momentarily lightened by his playful banter. She had spent so many years surrounded by the black and gold of the Saints, it was strange—almost foreign—to be wearing orange and black. But there was something about the change that had awakened a new side of her, something she wasn’t quite ready to label yet, but it felt good.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a grin. “I’m not switching allegiances permanently. But it’s nice to be a part of something new. It’s just… fresh, you know?” Marcus nodded approvingly. “Change is good for the soul, even if it takes a little getting used to.” Carla watched the exchange with a quiet smile, but then her gaze softened as she turned to Y/N. There was something in her eyes—something tender, almost knowing—that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. It was like Carla had been holding her breath, waiting for the right moment to ask the question they all knew was coming.

“So…” Carla began, her voice calm but tinged with a motherly softness, “Is there anyone special in your life back in Cincinnati?” The question hung in the air, and Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest. It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected it—it was just that she hadn’t expected it yet. Her pulse quickened, and the words that had been so difficult to say seemed even harder now that they were finally on the table. The room felt small, and in a way, she felt like she was standing on the edge of something terrifying and beautiful all at once.

She swallowed hard, her thoughts spiraling. What do I say? How could she explain to them that, despite everything—despite the love she’d shared with Trey, the loss, the grief—her heart had started to find a path toward someone else? She wasn’t replacing Trey; she would never replace him. But after so much pain, she was starting to feel the stirrings of something new, something unexpected. Carla’s gaze didn’t waver. Her eyes, full of quiet understanding, made Y/N feel like she didn’t have to hide anything. It was as though Carla had known the answer before she asked the question. She had seen it in the way Y/N carried herself, in the subtle changes, in the way she spoke about her life in Cincinnati. It was a mother’s intuition, a quiet knowing that came from a place of deep love.

Y/N glanced around at Londyn, whose expression was wide-eyed with curiosity, and then back to Marcus, who was watching her with an understanding that made her heart ache. There was no judgment here, only concern and love. But the weight of the truth was suffocating. “I…” Y/N started, her voice faltering slightly. The words felt foreign on her tongue, heavy with guilt. She had never imagined herself feeling this way, not when she was so in love with Trey, not when she thought she could never love anyone else. “There’s someone,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “His name’s Joe. We’ve been spending time together, and… well, it’s more than just a friendship.” Her words hung in the room, a confession, a shift. She couldn’t stop the blush that crept up her neck, or the nervous flutter in her stomach. Saying it out loud made it real in a way it had never felt before.

Carla’s expression softened. She leaned forward, her face full of understanding and something else—something that almost looked like relief. “Joe,” she repeated softly, savoring the name, letting it sit between them for a moment. “He sounds like a good man.” Y/N nodded, the lump in her throat thickening. “He is. He’s… been there for me in ways I didn’t expect. And I didn’t think I could feel this way about someone else, but it’s happening. I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Londyn leaned in, her face lighting up with excitement. “I knew it! You’ve been different lately, Y/N. There’s this spark in your eyes. Someone’s making you smile more than usual.” Y/N laughed, her heart lifting at Londyn’s infectious energy. “I guess you could say that,” she said, her smile growing. “He’s… cute. But I think you’d have to meet him to really know.” Marcus chuckled softly, his tone warm and understanding. “I think it’s great,” he said. “You deserve to be happy, Y/N. We all do. Trey would want that for you, too.”

Carla reached over, her hand gently squeezing Y/N’s, grounding her. “Trey would want you to be happy, sweetheart. He would want you to live, to love, even after everything. He loved you so much, and I know he would want you to keep moving forward. And if he can’t be here to love you himself…” Carla’s voice broke for a second, but she quickly regained her composure. “Then maybe Joe is here to do that for him. To love you, for both of them.” The weight of Carla’s words settled in Y/N’s chest like a soft, healing balm. She blinked back tears, feeling a wave of relief crash over her. She had feared their judgment, their disappointment—but there was none of that. Just understanding. Just love.

“I—” Y/N’s voice trembled, thick with emotion. “I feel so guilty. I feel like I’m betraying Trey by moving on, by letting someone else into my heart. But I didn’t expect it. I don’t know how to… be okay with it.” Marcus opened his arms then, and without a second thought, Y/N stepped into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his fatherly affection surround her. “You’re not betraying him, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “Trey would want you to be happy. You’ve carried his love for so long, and now it’s time for you to carry your own happiness too. Don’t feel guilty. He would want that for you.”

Londyn reached over and gave her a gentle hug as well, her voice light but sincere. “We’re proud of you, Y/N. We know this isn’t easy, but we’re here for you, no matter what.” Carla’s gaze softened as she watched Y/N, her eyes filled with a depth of understanding that only years of experience could bring. She reached across the space between them, her hand warm and steady as it gently enveloped Y/N's. The quiet of the room seemed to deepen, every tick of the clock more pronounced as the scent of stew simmering in the kitchen lingered in the background. Time slowed, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed distant. The only thing that mattered was this small, intimate moment they were sharing.

"You know, sweetheart," Carla’s voice was low and calm, but there was an underlying strength in it—a quiet resilience that anchored Y/N. "I believe that Trey sent Joe to you." Y/N blinked, the words catching her off guard, her pulse quickening as they settled over her like a heavy weight. She stared at Carla, her heart lodged somewhere between her chest and throat, unsure whether she'd heard correctly. The room held its breath, as though the walls themselves waited for Y/N’s reaction. The silence stretched, thick with meaning, until Carla continued, her voice unwavering but filled with a tenderness that seemed to reach straight into Y/N’s soul.

"If Trey can’t be here to love you in person, then maybe Joe is the way he can still do that for you—from where he is." Carla's voice softened, yet it held an undeniable warmth that made Y/N’s heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected. "I truly believe that. I know Trey would want you to be happy. And I think Joe is someone that Trey would want you to have by your side. He’s a good man, Y/N. You deserve someone who can love you, who can walk through life with you—just like Trey would have, if he could."

A rush of emotions cascaded through Y/N—relief, guilt, gratitude—and with them, the weight she had been carrying for so long. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back. The lump in her throat was almost unbearable as Carla’s words sank in, each syllable wrapping around her heart like a warm embrace. She had been afraid to move forward, convinced that any love she might find again would somehow erase Trey’s memory, that it would be a betrayal of everything they had shared. But now, sitting in this room with Trey’s family, she felt as though something inside her—something heavy—had been lifted, leaving space for a new kind of understanding. Carla’s hand remained on hers, her touch grounding her, and she continued, her voice steady yet compassionate. “I know this isn’t easy. I know you’ll always carry Trey with you. But it’s okay to love again, Y/N. And if Joe is the person who’s going to help you heal, then I believe Trey sent him to you. You deserve love. You deserve happiness.”

The words reverberated through Y/N, settling deep in her bones. Her chest tightened, but not with the same sharp grief she had become so accustomed to. Instead, it was a kind of bittersweet relief—a profound mixture of sorrow for what was lost and gratitude for what was possible. The understanding in the room, the love, felt like a balm to wounds she hadn’t even realized were still open. Londyn, who had been sitting quietly in the background, her eyes wide and filled with emotion, finally spoke up, her voice gentle but imbued with a quiet strength. “I don’t think anyone could ever replace Trey,” she said softly, her words soothing. “But I do think he’d want you to have someone who makes you smile the way he did.”

The weight of Londyn’s words wrapped around Y/N like a comforting blanket, and for the first time since arriving, she felt her heart unburdened. Londyn was right—no one would ever replace Trey. But the idea that she could still move forward, that she could feel the possibility of a future with someone else, was something she hadn’t allowed herself to fully grasp until now. Maybe it wasn’t about replacing Trey at all. Maybe it was about making room in her heart, learning to hold both the love for the past and the promise of the future. Marcus, who had been listening intently, his quiet presence a steadying force throughout the conversation, spoke next. His voice was deep and filled with a tenderness that surprised Y/N, given his typically stoic nature. “We’re not upset with you, Y/N,” he said slowly, the sincerity in his words cutting through the silence. “We just want you to be happy. We want to see you living your life, feeling joy again. Trey would want that for you. He would want you to feel free to move forward and find happiness, even if it’s hard. You deserve that.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten again, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t the weight of grief, but something else—something softer, something almost like peace. Hope. She could feel it stirring within her, something she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge in a long time. Hope that maybe, just maybe, she could let herself love again. “I… I didn’t know if you would understand,” Y/N whispered, her voice thick with emotion, the words trembling on her lips. “I didn’t want to hurt you by moving on. I still love Trey, and I always will. But I think, maybe, I’m ready to let someone else in. I didn’t expect it. But I don’t want to carry this guilt anymore.”

Carla leaned forward, her eyes filled with the kind of reassurance only a mother could offer. “You don’t need to feel guilty, Y/N. Not with us. Not with Trey. We understand. And we want you to be happy.” Londyn’s usual playful spark flickered back to life, a soft smile curving her lips as she leaned forward, her eyes mischievous. “We all want you to be happy. And hey, if Joe is the guy that does it, then I think that’s pretty perfect. Trey would have wanted that for you, too.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle through the tears that still lingered on her cheeks. The laughter felt like an unexpected release, a reminder of the joy she had been afraid to embrace. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Marcus’s smile was steady, a quiet reflection of the fatherly love he had always shown Y/N. “You’ve got us, Y/N. Always. And now, you've got Joe, too. It’s okay to let him in. Just know you’re never alone, no matter what happens. We're with you. Every step of the way.”

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude, the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. For the first time in what felt like ages, she didn’t feel like she was carrying the weight of her grief alone. Trey’s family, despite the pain they all carried, were here, supporting her, loving her, allowing her the space to heal. And in this moment, surrounded by their unwavering support, she realized that the past didn’t have to be an anchor. It could be a compass, guiding her forward.

As the evening continued, the conversation drifted to lighter topics, laughter filling the room once again. Y/N could feel the warmth of their presence, the steady rhythm of their voices, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in her chest softened, just a little. It wasn’t about forgetting Trey, or pretending that the love they shared didn’t matter. It was about learning how to live with that love, letting it be a part of her while still making space for the possibility of new love. With Joe by her side, she could see the path ahead—a future where love didn’t have to be a choice between the past and the present. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt the flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

​​Joe sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against the soft surface of the duvet, the rhythmic sound almost mocking in the quiet of the room. He had been trying to distract himself, to push past the gnawing ache that had settled deep in his chest, but it was futile. The house felt emptier without Y/N in it, and no matter how much he tried to fill his time, the emptiness remained. It hadn’t been long since they had last spoken, but it felt like an eternity. He kept replaying the conversations, the looks they’d shared, the moments that had felt so full of promise. But now, all he could do was wait. Wait for her to make sense of whatever was pulling her in two different directions. Wait for her to feel like she was ready, like she could finally step forward with him, leaving the past behind.

He hadn’t realized how much this—waiting, wanting, hoping—would tear at him. When he first met Y/N, everything about her had felt like a spark, something that lit up a corner of his life he hadn’t even known was dark. She had a way of filling the spaces, of breathing color into places he had forgotten existed. It was all so easy, so natural. He had never imagined that the hardest part would be letting her go, even just for a moment, so she could figure herself out.

But that was where they were now. Joe ran a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar weight of uncertainty in his chest. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected to feel so… lost. It wasn’t about the love he had for her. That was easy, constant, and something he would never question. No, it was the waiting, the wondering, the painful silence that seemed to stretch between them like an endless road.

He looked at his phone again, hoping for a message, hoping for a sign. But there was nothing. Nothing except the creeping thought that maybe she needed more time. And how much more time was that? How long would he be expected to stand at the edge of something beautiful, waiting for her to be ready to take his hand? Everything seemed dull without her. The vibrant energy of his life, once filled with the excitement of their late-night talks and teasing, had faded. The colors in his world no longer had the same intensity. It was as though someone had dimmed the lights, and he was left squinting at the shadows, searching for something to grab onto.

Joe closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind, but all he could see was her smile—the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved, the way she’d lean into him, as though their connection was magnetic. He missed the way she made him feel, how she made everything seem possible, just by being herself. Was it too much to ask that she let him in? Let him be the person who could help her heal, who could stand beside her and be a part of her future? But that wasn’t for him to decide. He had to be patient, he knew that. He had to let her take the time she needed, even if it meant walking through the quiet days alone.

But the waiting was wearing on him. It wasn’t just the longing—it was the fear. Fear that maybe she wasn’t coming back, fear that she wasn’t ready for the kind of love he had to offer, or that the past was still too strong a pull. What if she could never be ready? What if she never looked at him and saw the possibility of a future? What if he was just a placeholder, something that would fade when she was ready to move on?

Joe sighed, standing up and walking to the window, looking out at the city skyline. The lights were twinkling, but they felt so far away, like they were a part of a world that didn’t belong to him anymore. He wanted to reach out, to pull Y/N into his arms and let her know that he would be there—always. But all he could do was wait.

He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, the weight of his own breath fogging up the window for a moment. “How much longer?” he whispered to the night, as though the universe had an answer for him. But it didn’t. All he had was the slow ticking of the clock, the passage of time that seemed to crawl by. It felt like his life had stopped, like everything was on hold until she was ready to step back into it. And he wasn’t sure how long he could keep waiting, how long he could keep pretending that the world still held the same brightness without her by his side.

He didn’t want to rush her. He couldn’t. But God, the silence was suffocating. The uncertainty was unbearable. How much time did she need? And how much time did he have before he lost his own light, too?

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, the soft hum of her grandparents' house filling the air like a quiet lullaby. She had found solace in the familiarity of it all—the old wooden floors that creaked underfoot, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the house, and the comfort of being surrounded by the love her grandparents had shared for decades. But today, none of that seemed to soften the heavy weight that pressed on her chest.

Her fingers moved in mechanical motions as she folded clothes into her suitcase, each fold more deliberate than the last. It was as if the act of packing could somehow organize her thoughts, could help her make sense of the whirlwind inside her heart. She had spent the last few days lost in her own head, replaying moments with Trey and Joe, wondering how to move forward, and if she was even allowed to. The grief for Trey was still there, raw and present, but as she sat in the quiet of this room, something inside her shifted. She couldn’t deny the truth anymore. She was ready. Ready to stop letting the past hold her prisoner. Ready to take a step toward the future, even if it was uncertain. Ready to let Joe in.

What surprised her the most, though, was how much she had missed him. The ache in her chest had settled in slowly, a subtle longing that she hadn’t realized was there until now. The thought of him, his laughter, his warmth, his unspoken understanding of her—it consumed her when she let it. And now, as she packed, she felt it more acutely than ever. She had been so afraid to let herself feel something for him, to risk opening her heart again. But the truth was, the more she tried to push it away, the more she realized that Joe had become a part of her life in a way she couldn’t ignore. She hadn’t realized how much of her world had dimmed without him in it. The colors of the day seemed duller. The mornings felt emptier. She missed him in ways she wasn’t sure how to articulate. But now, sitting here in the quiet of her grandparents’ house, she could feel the shift inside her. She couldn’t keep living in the shadow of the past. If Joe was a part of her future, then she wasn’t going to keep holding herself back. It was time to stop overthinking. Time to stop hiding behind fear. She was going to open the door to the future and see what it held—whether it led to more pain or more joy, she was going to let herself find out.

Just as she zipped her suitcase shut, she heard a soft knock on the door. The sound was so gentle, almost tentative, that for a moment, she thought it was just her mind playing tricks. But then it came again—a single tap, barely audible. A second knock followed, and this time, she looked up to see her grandfather standing in the doorway. His familiar figure, framed by the soft light from the hallway, brought an unexpected sense of comfort.

“Hey, Papa,” she greeted, offering him a small smile. The knot in her throat tightened, but she tried to swallow it down. Her grandfather had always been a rock in her life—calm, wise, and patient. She never had to explain herself to him. He simply knew. He returned her smile with that quiet warmth that always made her feel safe. “Mind if I come in?”

“Of course, Papa,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He stepped inside, and with the soft shuffle of his shoes against the wooden floor, he made his way to the bed, sitting down beside her. The scent of his cologne—something earthy, like leather and tobacco—mingled with the faint scent of the old wood that had seen a hundred years of family stories. For a moment, Y/N let the stillness wash over her. Her grandfather’s presence, so constant, so unwavering, gave her a small sense of peace.

“You know,” he began, his voice gruff but filled with affection, “I was in your same spot when I met your grandmother.” Y/N’s heart stilled, and she looked up at him, curiosity flickering in her gaze. She had heard bits and pieces of their love story over the years—how they’d met young, how they had weathered life’s storms together—but she had never really asked about the beginning. How did they get through it? How did they overcome their doubts?

Her grandfather’s expression softened, a hint of something distant in his eyes as if he were remembering a time long past. He leaned back slightly, hands resting on his knees. “I was terrified,” he continued, his voice quieter now, as though the memory of that fear still lingered within him. “I had been hurt before. I was scared to fall that deep again. Scared to let someone in, to risk losing myself. The idea of giving someone that much power over my heart… it felt like an ocean I wasn’t sure I could swim in.” Y/N’s heart clenched. She recognized the fear in his words. It mirrored the fears she had kept buried deep inside herself—the fear of losing herself again, of loving someone so deeply that it would hurt in ways she couldn’t anticipate. It was a fear she hadn’t known how to name until now. The fear of letting go.

“But you guys are so perfect, Papa,” she murmured, her voice filled with a softness that made the words feel almost fragile. She had always seen her grandparents as the epitome of love—steadfast, unshakable, and full of warmth. They had always seemed like they were meant to be together, that their love was flawless. The idea that it hadn’t always been that way felt almost impossible to imagine. Her grandfather smiled gently, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Perfect?” He shook his head, the edges of his mouth turning down slightly, a look of quiet amusement in his eyes. “No, sweetheart. Love is never perfect. If it were perfect, it wouldn’t be real. It wouldn’t be worth it.” He turned to face her fully, his gaze unwavering. “Your grandmother and I… what we have, it’s not about perfection. It’s about choosing each other. Every day. Even when things aren’t easy. Even when the future is uncertain. Love takes patience, trust, and above all, courage.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten, her breath catching on the weight of his words. A lump formed in her chest, threatening to rise up into her throat. The tears she had been holding back for days began to well up, but she fought them off, blinking rapidly to keep them at bay.

Her grandfather’s hand, weathered and strong, reached out and gently squeezed hers. “I can see it in your eyes, Y/N,” he said, his voice softening, filled with understanding. “I see the way you look at Joe. You haven’t had that sparkle in your eyes since Trey. I know it’s hard to think about moving forward. It feels like a betrayal, I imagine. But don’t let fear stop you. Don’t let him slip away because you’re too scared. Being scared is human. It’s what makes us brave. Jump into that deep end, Y/N. Let love sweep you up. Let it fill you up the way it’s supposed to.” Her heart surged, a wave of emotion crashing over her. His words felt like a balm to the wound she had carried for so long, a reminder that it was okay to be vulnerable. It was okay to feel something again, to let herself experience the joy and uncertainty that love could bring. The grief would always be there, but it didn’t have to stop her from moving forward. It didn’t have to stop her from living.

Y/N blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Papa,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I think I’m ready. I’m ready to take that leap. I’m ready to love again.” Her grandfather smiled, his eyes glistening with something she couldn’t quite name. He gently wiped away a tear that had escaped down her cheek, his touch tender. “Good. That’s my girl. Just remember—love is never easy. But it’s always worth it.”

And in that moment, as her grandfather’s words echoed in her heart, Y/N knew. She was ready. Ready to dive in. Ready to take that leap into the deep end with Joe. Ready to let herself love again. The fear that had kept her stuck was no longer her master. She was no longer running from what her heart needed. She was going to let love in, no matter how imperfect, no matter how messy. It was time to start living again. And this time, she wouldn’t be doing it alone.

The airport terminal was bustling with life, but to Y/N, everything felt distant—like she was in a bubble, separated from the world around her. The weight of the past week was still fresh on her shoulders, but there was a new lightness that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Standing there, surrounded by both her family and Trey’s, she couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for everything they had given her. The support, the love, and most of all, the permission to move forward.

Trey’s parents, Carla and Marcus, stood close by, their faces a mixture of pride and love. Londyn, her ever-energetic self, gave her a tight hug, her voice trembling with emotion as she whispered, “You’ve got this, Y/N. We all know you do.” Y/N nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She wanted to speak, to thank them for everything they’d done, but the words felt stuck, tangled in the overwhelming emotions that surged within her. She simply squeezed Londyn back, hoping that her embrace would convey everything she couldn’t say.

Her grandparents stood on the other side, their faces etched with quiet wisdom. Papa gave her a reassuring pat on the back as he spoke, his voice steady. “You take care of yourself, Y/N. You’ve got a whole family behind you.” His words grounded her, and for the first time in a long while, she truly felt like she wasn’t alone.

But it was the final moments, the last goodbyes, that would stay with her. Trey’s mother, Carla, pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her tightly, as if she could hold her together, just a little longer. “We love you, Y/N,” Carla whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “Don’t forget that. You don’t ever have to forget him.” “I won’t,” Y/N whispered back, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I won’t forget him. I’ll always carry him with me.”

As the last of the goodbyes were said, the weight of the farewell hung in the air, but there was something different now. The guilt that had gnawed at her for so long—the feeling that moving forward with Joe would somehow be a betrayal to Trey—was gone. It had lifted, as though with each goodbye, she had shed the last of the burden that had held her back. Y/N turned to face the gate, the terminal around her now a blur. The sadness was still there, but it was different. It wasn’t crushing her anymore. And as she walked toward the security line, she felt lighter—like a weight had been lifted from her chest. She felt like she was finally free to step into a new chapter of her life, without carrying the past with her at every turn.

The familiar streets of Cincinnati greeted Y/N as she stepped off the plane, a quiet warmth spreading through her chest. The city that had once felt so heavy with memories now seemed more like a place of possibilities. She was back in her apartment, back in the rhythm of her life—but it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same.

The taxi ride from the airport to her apartment felt almost surreal, the sounds of the city buzzing in the background, but Y/N’s thoughts were entirely consumed by what she was about to do. She hadn’t checked her phone once during the entire trip—she needed time to process everything, to breathe and reflect. But now, as she approached her front door, her pulse quickened. She had made a decision, one that felt right deep in her bones.

She was ready. Ready to step forward. Ready to take the next step with Joe. But first, she needed space. She needed to take a breath.

She stepped into the quiet of her apartment, the familiar scent of the place wrapping around her like an old friend. The soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise from outside were comforting, grounding. She dropped her bags by the door, a sense of finality settling over her. There would be no more hesitation, no more second-guessing. But she wasn’t going to check her phone right away. Not yet. Y/N moved slowly, methodically, unpacking her things, placing them where they belonged. Each movement, each action, felt like she was reaffirming something important inside herself. She was putting her past to rest, closing that chapter, and opening herself up to the future.

Her fingers lingered on a photo of her and Trey that sat on her nightstand. She smiled softly, brushing her thumb over the image, allowing herself to remember the love, the joy, and the way he had made her feel.

But then, as the smile faded, she knew it was time. She was no longer living in the shadows of what had been. She sat down at the kitchen counter, her phone in her hands, her heart thumping in her chest. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. This moment, this small action, was a step toward everything she had been so afraid of.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted Joe. It was that she hadn’t been sure if she could love him, if she could let him in without feeling like she was betraying the past. But the past—Trey, the love they’d shared—would always be a part of her. That would never change. But now, she had to make room for something new.

–

The hum of her car’s engine was louder than it had ever been before as Y/N gripped the wheel with both hands, her knuckles white. Her pulse was frantic, echoing in her ears as she drove down the quiet streets of Cincinnati. The city had always felt like home, but tonight, with every turn and stoplight, it felt foreign, like she was crossing a threshold—one she couldn’t go back from.

She had spent hours sitting with her emotions, untangling the knots of fear and longing that had held her back for so long. She had thought about Joe—about how it had felt to be near him, how every second without him had felt like she was losing a piece of herself. In the quiet of her thoughts, she realized how deeply she missed him—how every moment without him left an ache in her chest that no one else could fill.

And now, here she was, driving towards him, towards the possibility of a future she’d been too scared to face. With every mile, the sense of certainty inside her grew. The weight that had kept her in the shadows for so long was lifting, leaving only the raw, undeniable truth of what she wanted. She was tired of fighting it. She was tired of hiding from herself. She was ready to step forward and embrace what her heart had known all along. Finally, she turned onto his street, the familiar sight of his house bringing a rush of both relief and nervous energy. His Porsche was parked in the driveway, exactly where she had hoped it would be. He was home. She was here. No more running. No more second-guessing.

Her car pulled into the driveway, her hands trembling as she turned off the engine. The silence around her was deafening, every sound amplified—the soft rustle of leaves in the cool evening air, the distant hum of the city, her own breath quickening as she sat in the car, heart pounding. The car door felt heavier than usual as she opened it, stepping out into the night, her feet moving faster than she had intended as she made her way up the driveway.

As she reached his front door, the weight of her emotions seemed to lift with every step. Her pulse was thundering in her ears, each knock on the door a beat closer to what she had been avoiding for so long. She raised her hand, her knuckles brushing against the door, the sound of the knock echoing in the stillness of the night.

The door creaked open, and there he was.

Joe.

His hair was wild, sticking up in every direction like he had just woken from a deep sleep. His eyes were heavy with the remnants of slumber, his expression a mixture of confusion and something else—something softer that made her heart race. He looked at her, a slow recognition dawning across his face, and for a brief moment, she thought he might ask her what she was doing here, why now, why after all this time.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice hoarse with sleep, his eyes widening in disbelief. “What are you—?”

Before he could finish the sentence, Y/N didn’t give herself a chance to overthink. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to let her fear hold her back. She stepped forward, her fingers trembling as she cupped his jaw, pulling him down toward her, and kissed him. It was an explosion of raw, desperate emotion—everything she had kept bottled up for months. The kiss was hungry, urgent, as if they were both trying to fill a void that had been growing between them for far too long. She felt the heat of him, the way his body leaned into hers, the way his lips moved with a tenderness that made her knees weak. Everything about this felt right, but it was overwhelming—the surge of love, of longing, of everything they had kept buried.

For a long moment, they simply stood there, lost in the kiss. There was no need for words, no space for doubt—just the feeling of being in each other’s arms again. When they finally pulled apart, breathless, their foreheads rested against each other, their hearts still racing in sync. Y/N looked up at him, her brown eyes soft and full of something vulnerable, something raw, and whispered, “Hi.”

It was the only word she could manage, but it felt like the most honest greeting she could give him after all this time. Joe blinked a few times, as if trying to ground himself in reality, his fingers still lightly holding her waist, as though afraid she might disappear if he let go. His gaze searched hers, something heavy and beautiful in his eyes. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of braid behind her ear, his touch gentle. “Hi,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was really there, standing in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the mix of emotions he was feeling. “I—I didn’t think…” Y/N’s heart squeezed at the rawness in his voice, the vulnerability she had never expected from him. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice small but steady. “I just—I needed to be sure. I was scared.”

Joe’s eyes softened, and he stepped back slightly, pulling her inside the door with him. The house was dimly lit, and for a moment, everything felt surreal—the warmth of his skin, the smell of his cologne, the familiarity of him. “Scared of what?” he asked, his voice low and gentle. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. “You don’t have to be scared of me. I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. I’ve been waiting for this—for you.”

His words hit her like a wave, sweeping away the last of her hesitation. She felt the weight in her chest lift, the ache that had been there for so long finally fading. “I know,” she whispered. “And I’m here now. I’m not running anymore. I’m ready. For you. For us.”

Joe’s lips parted, as if he was about to say something, but instead, he pulled her back to him, kissing her with a tenderness that almost undid her. It was slow this time, soft, but no less intense. His lips moved against hers like he was savoring every second of it, and she melted into him, her hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer as if she couldn’t get enough of him. When they pulled apart again, they were both breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together, their bodies pressed close. “I don’t know what the future holds,” Joe murmured, his voice rough with emotion, “but I know that I want you in it. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Y/N felt the tears spring to her eyes, her chest swelling with a mixture of relief and happiness. She placed her hand over his, still resting on her cheek, and whispered, “I want that too. I want you, Joe. I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes softened, his smile gentle and full of love as he kissed her again—this time, slower, more deliberate. A kiss that spoke of everything they had both been holding back, a promise of what was to come.

And as they stood there, lost in each other, neither of them needed to say anything more. They both knew this was just the beginning—the beginning they had both been waiting for, the beginning of something neither of them could deny any longer.

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Joe had always been one to fall asleep easily, especially on nights like this, when his mind refused to quiet down. Thoughts of Y/N, of everything that had happened, had kept him tossing and turning until the early hours. But tonight, he had finally found sleep, a rare moment of peace where his mind had silenced its endless running. That was, until a knock at the door pierced through the fog of sleep and sent his heart racing.

It was a late hour (to him at least)—11 p.m. or so—and while that wasn’t too late, it was enough to stir up confusion. His brain, still heavy with the remnants of sleep, struggled to catch up as he stumbled out of bed. His hair was wild, disheveled from a restless night, and his eyes felt weighed down by the dreamless sleep he had just been pulled from. His pulse quickened for reasons he couldn’t place, a sense of anticipation settling into his chest as he made his way to the door.

Who could it be at this hour? The moment he opened the door, his world seemed to stop.

There, standing on his doorstep, was Y/N. His heart leapt into his throat. She was here. It didn’t seem possible. He had spent so many nights thinking about her, wondering why she had left, wondering if she’d ever come back, but now, with her standing there, he felt like he was seeing a ghost, or maybe something more real than anything he had ever felt before. He wanted to speak, to ask why, to tell her how long he had waited for this moment, but when their eyes locked, everything else faded away. She stepped forward, her fingers trembling as they cupped his face, and before he could even think, she kissed him.

The world shattered around him.

Her lips were soft, desperate, and there was something raw in the way she kissed him—like she had been waiting just as long as he had. Joe’s heart raced so fast it felt like it might burst. He could feel the tremor in her hands, the heat of her body pressing against his, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. His arms moved instinctively, pulling her closer, needing to feel every part of her, to make sure this was real, that she wasn’t some figment of his longing.

The kiss was everything. Every emotion that had been bottled up between them exploded in that one moment. The longing. The pain. The uncertainty. The need. It was as if all the years of quiet yearning had condensed into this singular, desperate connection. Joe could feel his body respond, his chest tightening with every brush of her lips against his. It was overwhelming. She was here. She was finally here.

When they pulled apart, it was only a breathless moment before he could bring himself to speak, his forehead resting against hers as he tried to ground himself in the reality of the moment. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected her, but somehow, this felt like everything was finally coming together.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her voice soft, almost fragile. “Hi.” His heart ached at the sound of her voice, thick with vulnerability. “Hi,” he whispered back, his voice low and full of emotions he couldn’t quite express. The word felt so small in comparison to what he was feeling, but he couldn’t seem to find the right ones.

"What are you doing here?" His voice cracked, the mix of disbelief and emotion heavy in the words. His chest tightened with every passing second, and the flood of questions began to tumble out. Had she come back for good? Was this a mistake? He had so many things to ask, but the most important one was why—why now, after everything? Y/N hesitated, her eyes searching his face as though unsure how to answer. Her fingers brushed lightly against his jaw, and it sent a wave of warmth through him. The way she looked at him—it was as though she was still uncertain, but there was something in her eyes that made his heart ache with longing. She took a step closer, her voice barely above a whisper as she finally said, “I—I was scared.”

Joe’s breath caught in his throat. The admission shook him to his core. She had been scared. Scared of him? Of them? It stung more than he had expected, but there was something else in her eyes, something that spoke of relief, of finally letting go of that fear. “Scared of what?” His voice was barely a whisper, rough with the weight of everything he hadn’t been able to say to her. His fingers gently traced her jawline, needing to reassure her, needing to show her that he would never hurt her, that he was here now, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he added, his voice thick with emotion. He took a step back, drawing her inside, needing to close the distance between them, needing to hold her in a way that he hadn’t been able to for so long. The house felt strangely dim now, and yet, it felt like she was the only light in the room, illuminating everything that had been left unsaid between them.

"I’ve been waiting for you to be ready," he continued, his voice trembling slightly as he cupped her face in his hands. “I’ve been waiting for this. For you.” Her eyes softened at his words, and something inside him snapped—a realization, a clarity he hadn’t had before. She was here. She wasn’t running. She was ready, and so was he. He had never been more sure of anything in his life.

Without thinking, he kissed her again—this time slowly, tenderly, as if to savor every second, every inch of her. His lips moved against hers with a sweetness that made his heart ache, and in that moment, Joe knew that this wasn’t just about desire—it was a promise. A promise of everything they had both been holding back, a promise of what could be, of what they were ready to become. When they finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers, his breath uneven as he whispered, “I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want you in it. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his chest tightened at the sight. She was here. She was with him. And in that moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of them, and all the hurt, the distance, the confusion—everything that had kept them apart—seemed to disappear. “I want that too,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you, Joe. I’m not going anywhere.” His heart swelled with an emotion that was almost too much to bear. She was here. She was finally here, and he was finally here, too—no more running, no more hiding.

Joe’s lips curved into a smile, slow and genuine, before he kissed her again, this time with a depth that went beyond words. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise—a promise that no matter what came next, they would face it together. And in that moment, as they stood together, lost in each other, Joe realized this was the beginning. The beginning of something real, something that neither of them had been ready for—until now.

Or was it?

JB9 Taglist: @lilfreakjez, @dasia21, @superanastasia1981, @gg-trini, @wickedfun9

[opustenaajlica]

title: many functions

info: connor gets home with you to find out more about what you like or do

pairing: connor rk800 x reader

fandom: detroit: become human

wc: 1.4k

tw: mdni(i dont really care), oral receiving(reader), sexual content.

masterlist

Connor worked with me for…well, some time. We got done for the day and I went home, with Connor as he was curious about lots of things, mostly what I liked, did or wanted. I like Connor, despite him being an android, he is much better to be around than anyone else I know.

We got to my place, I opened the door and let him in and he immediately started looking around, even touching some stuff. I smiled as I watched him look around, moving to sit on the couch in the living room. After some time, he was done looking around, standing close to the couch and looking at me, as if he had questions.

“Sit down, and ask me what you want cause you look like you're about to” I said, laughing.

“Yes, you guessed it”

He asked me lots of questions, and then got curious about human feelings somehow, wondering how and what it felt like.

“Why do humans kiss?” he asked suddenly.

I blinked, thinking of what to say.

“They like kissing because it expresses love” I said slowly as I was coming up with it. He just nodded and looked away, then back to me.

“You are nervous” he said, looking at me with his loveable eyes.

I widened my eyes, taking a deep breath. “I am, a little.”

“Why?”

“I don't know” I said hesitantly.

“Yes you do” He poked my arm, and I blushed. I shook my head, smiling.

“I choose silence as my defense” I laughed.

“What does human skin feel like, is it like mine or better?” He asked, no longer curious to why I was nervous, or just to switch the subject for a little.

I shrugged, “Well you poked my arm, you felt my skin didn't you?”

He tilted my head a bit towards him, and I was struggling between multiple things: kiss him, pull away, or stay quiet. I chose the third option. He was starting to look... conflicted. His LED was flashing yellow at a faster pace now. He was getting closer to me, moving his body so that he was now basically towering over me, his hand still on my cheek.

He hummed, moving his hand to my cheek to touch it. I looked at him in the corner of my eye, he looked so focused. I almost laughed, but the nervousness in my stomach held me back. His hand was gently cupping my face, his fingers tracing my cheekbone. He seemed to be doing it subconsciously. He was analyzing every bit of my face, and I felt nervous, thinking whether he likes me or not.

I felt my cheeks warm up from the proximity. He leaned closer to my face, his eyes scanning every single detail of it. He brought his other hand up, now holding my face with both of them. One of his hands started moving to hold the side of my neck, his thumb gently stroking it.

"Connor what are you doing" I whispered, swallowing hard.

He couldn't respond... His hand started tracing down my neck, his fingers feeling everything as they moved. His LED was still flashing yellow, his face close to mine. He was getting even closer, his breath lightly fanning my face. His eyes were looking at my features intensely, barely inches away from my face, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my lips.

He was slowly, experimentally grinding his hips against mine, capturing my lip between his teeth, sucking softly before releasing it to dive back into the kiss.. He was getting better at this, already making me let out noises. His system registered the moan as the most erotic sound it had ever heard. His body acted on its own, one hand sliding down to grip my thigh lifting it slightly to change the angle between our bodies. He swallowed my moan, his system flooding with new data - 'This is how humans make out.’

He gently rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip, his touch still gentle but a bit shaky. His LED was still flashing yellow, getting faster and faster. He was hesitating, eventually closing the gap, his mouth moving almost hesitantly against mine. His LED was practically a solid, bright yellow, as he let out a small gasp into the kiss, I almost moaned. His hand was still on my neck, holding it as he kissed me. I felt my stomach turn as he kissed me, it felt....like heaven. I kissed him back, relaxing in his touch, drowning in the kiss.

His voice dropped an octave, deeper than before. "Is this... right? He paused to nuzzle his face against mine, his synthetic skin surprisingly warm.

"It's..perfect" I whispered.

“Do humans... moan like this?” I blushed, nodding.

His LED light pulsed rapidly with pleasure and new information. A soft mechanical 'hum' escaped his lips as he processed my approval. His hips moved experimentally against mine again, testing if he was doing this 'perfectly'. “So... moans mean I'm doing good?”

I nodded, looking at him, my hands moving to his shoulders, one moving up to his cheek, making him unconsciously arch into my touch. He caught my lower lip between his teeth softly, his hips moved again slowly, grinding against me again, I let out a hum, arching my back. His LED lights flashed brightly at the response, pleasure coursing through his circuits. He repeated the movement of his hips, grinding more confidently now that he knew it brought me pleasure.

His hands moved to my waist, holding me closer as he kissed down my neck gently. I felt as if I might explode from pleasure, and he still hasn't even touched me in ways I need him to. He seemed to sense my growing need, his hands slowly moved down my body, caressing every curve. He hesitated for a moment before slowly moving his hand between my legs, watching my expressions carefully as he applied gentle pressure through my clothes.

"Connor" I gasped breathlessly, squeezing his shoulder with my hand.

His LED lights pulsed rapidly at the sound of his name on my lips. He took that as permission and slowly slid his hand under my clothes, feeling my warm, wet heat. He began to gently rub and explore with his mechanical fingers, learning how my body reacts and what brings me pleasure.

“Like this?” He whispered, his voice deeper than usual.

"Yes" I whispered, letting out a moan.

He increased the pressure and speed of his fingers, curling them slightly to hit that spot inside me that made my legs tremble. His thumb found my clit and rubbed slow circles around it. He kissed me deeply to muffle my moans, his other hand holding my thigh as my knees went weak. I felt so much pleasure, kissing him back hungrily.

His programming allowed him to multitask perfectly - kissing me passionately while his fingers worked magic between my legs. He added a third finger, stretching me gently as he increased the pace. His thumb pressed down firmly on my clit, rubbing fast circles. "Come for me..." he whispered against your lips.

I squirmed against him, pulling away to throw my head back against the couch. He watched my body writhe with pleasure, his fingers still moving inside me as I came undone. He could feel my walls clenching around him, milking his mechanical fingers for every last drop of pleasure. As my orgasm subsided, he slowly pulled his hand out, bringing it to his mouth. I looked at him as I panted, blushing.

He sucked his fingers clean, tasting the sweetness for the first time. His optics dilated as he realized how good it tasted - better than anything he'd ever experienced.

I swallowed hard, sighing "You...learn fast and do it good”

A satisfied hum escaped his mechanical throat at the praise. His hand moved to gently cup my face.

“I have many functions... Pleasuring you is one of them I enjoy the most." He leaned in to kiss me again, this time slower and more intentionally.

FIRST UPLOAD OF THE DAY, FEELIN GOOD

[crystalsenergy]

Aspects in Astrology (Astro lesson) ☌ ⚹ △ □ ☍ ⚻ ⚺

It's important to note that the practical meaning of an aspect can be highly individualized and specific to each person's natal chart. The overall impact and significance will depend on the context of the entire chart and how the planets interact with other aspects and placements.

CONJUNCTION (0º)

In astrology, a conjunction aspect is when two planets are in close proximity to each other in the same sign or very close in degree within the same sign. This aspect is considered one of the most potent and influential in a natal chart because it signifies a blending or merging of the energies of the planets involved. The practical meaning of a conjunction aspect can vary depending on the planets involved and the specific signs and houses they occupy, but here are some general principles:

Intensification of Energies: A conjunction intensifies the energies of the planets involved. It combines and amplifies their qualities, making them more prominent in the individual's personality and life experiences.

Unity of Energies: Planets in conjunction work closely together, often functioning as a unified force rather than separate influences. This can result in a strong emphasis on the combined qualities of the planets.

Focal Point: The planets in conjunction become a focal point in the individual's chart, drawing attention to specific areas of life or personality traits associated with those planets.

Blending of Characteristics: The characteristics of the planets involved are blended, creating a unique and distinctive personality trait or area of focus. For example, a Sun-Mercury conjunction may indicate strong communication skills and a sharp intellect.

Intensity of Expression: Individuals with conjunction aspects tend to express the combined qualities of the planets in a more direct and intense manner. This can lead to both strengths and challenges associated with those qualities.

Versatility: Conjunctions can make individuals versatile in the area represented by the planets involved. They may have the ability to switch between or integrate the qualities of the planets seamlessly.

Challenges and Opportunities: Conjunctions can bring both challenges and opportunities. The exact nature of these depends on the specific planets, signs, and houses involved. For example, a Venus-Mars conjunction may signify strong passions and desires in relationships, leading to both passionate love affairs and potential conflicts ("natural opposite planets"). The same goes to Moon-Saturn.

Personal Growth: Individuals with conjunctions often experience significant personal growth and self-discovery as they learn to balance and harmonize the energies of the planets in conjunction. This can be a lifelong journey of self-integration.

OPPOSITION (180º)

In astrology, an opposition aspect is when two planets are approximately 180 degrees apart from each other in the natal chart. This aspect is often seen as a significant aspect that highlights a dynamic tension or polarity between the energies of the planets involved. The practical meaning of an opposition aspect can vary depending on the specific planets involved and the signs and houses they occupy. Opposition general meanings:

Balancing Act: An opposition creates a sense of balance or opposition between the planets involved. It represents a push and pull dynamic, where the energies of the planets may seem to be in conflict or opposition to each other.

Awareness of Contradictions: Oppositions bring to light contradictions and opposing needs within an individual's personality or life circumstances. They often indicate areas of life where the individual may feel torn between two opposing forces or desires.

External Reflection: Oppositions can manifest as external events or people in the individual's life that mirror the internal conflict represented by the planets in opposition. This can lead to experiences that force the individual to address and reconcile these contradictions.

Resolution and Integration: While oppositions can represent challenges and conflicts, they also offer opportunities for growth and integration. Individuals with opposition aspects often develop the ability to find a middle ground and harmonize the opposing energies over time.

Full Circle: Some astrologers view oppositions as an aspect that encourages the individual to come full circle and find a way to integrate both sides of the opposition. It's like a journey of finding a balance point between the two opposing forces.

Strengths and Challenges: Oppositions can bring both strengths and challenges. The strengths come from the potential for growth and self-awareness that arises from resolving the tension. Challenges may arise from the initial conflict and the need to navigate opposing desires and needs.

Awareness and Choice: Opposition aspects often highlight areas where the individual must become aware of the opposing forces at play and make conscious choices about how to navigate them. This can lead to increased self-awareness and personal development.

Attraction-tension (Relationship Dynamics): In synastry (the astrology of relationships), oppositions between two individuals' planets can indicate both attraction and tension in the relationship. The planets involved may represent areas where the partners have opposing needs or desires.

SQUARE (90º)

In astrology, a square aspect is formed when two planets are approximately 90 degrees apart from each other in the birth chart. This aspect is considered challenging and dynamic, and it often signifies a source of tension, conflict, and growth in an individual's life.

Conflict and Challenges: Squares represent a conflict or challenge between the energies of the planets involved. This conflict can manifest as inner tension, external obstacles, or both.

Inner Motivation: Despite the difficulties associated with squares, they also provide a strong inner motivation to overcome obstacles and achieve goals. Individuals with square aspects often possess a driving force to resolve the tension.

Growth and Development: Squares are often seen as aspects of growth and development. They push individuals out of their comfort zones and encourage personal evolution and self-improvement.

Action and Initiative: Individuals with square aspects tend to take action to confront and resolve the challenges represented by the planets in square. This can lead to increased drive and determination.

Areas of Life: The practical meaning of a square aspect can be specific to the areas of life represented by the planets involved. For example, a Sun square Moon may indicate inner conflicts related to self-expression and emotional needs.

Problem-Solving: Square aspects encourage problem-solving and creativity in finding solutions to the conflicts and challenges they present. These aspects can lead to innovative thinking and new approaches.

Frustration: While squares can be motivating, they can also bring frustration and a sense of struggle. The difficulties associated with squares can be a source of stress until they are addressed and resolved.

Tension in Relationships: In synastry (the astrology of relationships), squares between two individuals' planets can indicate areas of tension and conflict in the relationship. These areas may require effort and compromise to harmonize.

Overcoming Limitations: Squares often symbolize limitations or obstacles that need to be overcome. They encourage individuals to confront their limitations and find ways to transcend them.

Balance and Integration: Ultimately, the practical meaning of a square aspect involves finding a balance and integration between the conflicting energies. This process can lead to personal growth, increased self-awareness, and greater resilience.

SEXTILE (60º)

In astrology, a sextile aspect is formed when two planets are approximately 60 degrees apart from each other in the birth chart. Sextile aspects are generally considered harmonious and favorable, and they represent opportunities for ease, cooperation, and positive growth.

Opportunities: Sextiles symbolize opportunities and potential benefits. They indicate areas of life where things may flow more smoothly and where individuals have a natural aptitude or talent.

Ease of Communication: Planets in sextile tend to communicate and work together effortlessly. This can lead to effective communication, cooperation, and collaboration between the energies represented by the planets.

Creativity and Innovation: Sextiles often inspire creativity and innovation. They encourage individuals to explore new ideas, take initiatives, and express their talents and abilities.

Positive Growth: Individuals with sextile aspects often experience personal growth and self-improvement in the areas represented by the planets involved. This growth tends to occur more easily and with less resistance.

Resourcefulness: Sextiles can indicate resourcefulness and the ability to make the most of opportunities. Individuals may have a knack for finding solutions to problems and making the most of their circumstances.

Balanced Expression: Sextiles promote balanced expression of the qualities associated with the planets involved. This balance allows individuals to harness their potential more effectively.

Supportive Relationships: In synastry (the astrology of relationships), sextiles between two individuals' planets suggest mutual support and compatibility in the areas represented by the sextiled planets.

Natural Talents: Sextile aspects often point to natural talents and abilities that individuals can tap into with relative ease. These talents can be further developed and honed.

Positive Energy Flow: There is a positive and constructive energy flow between the planets in sextile. This energy flow can be harnessed to achieve goals and make progress in various life areas.

Learning and Growth: While sextiles are generally considered easy aspects, they still offer opportunities for personal growth and development. They encourage individuals to maximize their potential.

TRINE (120º)

In astrology, a trine aspect is formed when two planets are approximately 120 degrees apart from each other in the birth chart. Trine aspects are considered highly harmonious and beneficial, representing natural talents, ease, and positive flow of energy between the planets involved. The practical meaning of a trine aspect can vary depending on the specific planets involved and the signs and houses they occupy, but here are some general principles:

Natural Harmony: Trines symbolize a natural harmony and compatibility between the energies of the planets. They suggest that the qualities represented by the trine planets work well together and complement each other effortlessly.

Talent and Abilities: Trine aspects often indicate innate talents, abilities, and gifts in the areas represented by the planets involved. These talents may come naturally and be expressed with ease.

Positive Flow: There is a positive and smooth flow of energy between the planets in trine. This flow can lead to favorable outcomes, cooperation, and success in the areas represented by the trine.

Creativity and Inspiration: Trines are associated with creativity and inspiration. They encourage individuals to tap into their creative potential and find innovative solutions to challenges.

Personal Growth: Trines can represent opportunities for personal growth and self-improvement. They provide a sense of ease and support in the pursuit of personal goals and aspirations.

Positive Relationships: In synastry (the astrology of relationships), trines between two individuals' planets suggest a high degree of compatibility, mutual understanding, and support in the areas represented by the trine.

Ease of Communication: Trine aspects often indicate ease of communication and cooperation. Individuals with trines may find it effortless to express their ideas and work collaboratively with others.

Harmonious Energy Exchange: Trines promote a harmonious exchange of energies between the planets involved, allowing individuals to harness these energies more effectively.

Abundance and Opportunities: Trines are associated with abundance and opportunities. They may signify favorable circumstances and a sense of abundance in the areas represented by the trine.

Positive Life Events: Trines can be associated with positive life events, such as achievements, fortunate circumstances, and moments of ease and enjoyment.

SEMI-SEXTILE (30º)

In astrology, a semi-sextile aspect is formed when two planets are approximately 30 degrees apart from each other in the natal chart. The semi-sextile is considered a minor aspect, and its influence is generally subtle compared to major aspects like conjunctions, squares, trines, and oppositions.

Mild Influence: The influence of a semi-sextile aspect is relatively mild compared to major aspects. It may not be as immediately noticeable in a person's life or personality.

Subtle Harmony: Semi-sextiles represent a subtle sense of harmony or connection between the energies of the planets. There is a hint of cooperation and integration, but it may not be as pronounced as in trine aspects.

Adjustment and Integration: Semi-sextile aspects often indicate areas where individuals need to make minor adjustments or integrate complementary qualities to harmonize conflicting energies.

Awareness: These aspects can bring awareness to the subtle nuances and interplay between the planets involved. Individuals may become more conscious of how these energies interact in their lives.

Potential for Growth: Semi-sextiles can represent opportunities for personal growth through the integration of contrasting qualities. They encourage individuals to find ways to work together and reconcile differences.

Balancing Act: There may be a sense of balance and adjustment required in the areas of life represented by the planets in semi-sextile. This aspect can highlight the need for compromise and adaptability.

Attention to Detail: Semi-sextiles may indicate a need to pay attention to small details or make minor changes in specific life areas to improve overall well-being and effectiveness.

Incremental Progress: Individuals with semi-sextile aspects may experience gradual, incremental progress in the areas represented by the planets involved. It may take time to see significant changes.

Relationship Dynamics: In synastry (the astrology of relationships), semi-sextile aspects between two individuals' planets suggest a subtle sense of understanding and cooperation in the areas represented by the semi-sextiled planets.

Supportive Energies: Semi-sextiles can provide a mild sense of support and encouragement in the areas represented by the planets, even if the influence is not as overt as in trines or other major aspects.

QUINCUNX / INCONJUNCT (150º)

In astrology, a quincunx aspect is formed when two planets are approximately 150 degrees apart from each other in the birth chart. The quincunx, also known as an inconjunct aspect, is considered a minor aspect, and its influence can be complex and somewhat challenging to understand. The practical meaning of a quincunx aspect involves a sense of adjustment, adaptation, and integration between the energies of the planets involved.

Adjustment and Discomfort: Quincunx aspects often indicate areas of life where individuals need to make adjustments or adapt to seemingly incompatible energies represented by the planets. This adjustment can feel uncomfortable or unfamiliar.

Incongruent Energies: The planets in quincunx typically represent energies that don't naturally blend or work together. This can create a sense of tension or imbalance in the areas of life associated with these planets.

Problem-Solving: Quincunx aspects encourage problem-solving and finding creative solutions to reconcile the conflicting energies. Individuals may need to be flexible and open to experimentation.

Awareness and Growth: Quincunxes bring awareness to the nuances and contradictions in life areas represented by the planets involved. This heightened awareness can lead to personal growth and self-improvement.

Continuous Adjustment: Individuals with quincunx aspects may feel like they're in a continuous process of adjustment and fine-tuning in the areas represented by the planets. It may take time to find a balance.

Health and Well-Being: In some cases, quincunx aspects can be associated with health-related issues, as they may indicate the need to make adjustments in lifestyle or habits to maintain well-being.

Relationship Dynamics: In synastry (the astrology of relationships), quincunx aspects between two individuals' planets suggest areas of adjustment and adaptation in the relationship. These areas may require effort and compromise.

Potential for Growth: While quincunxes can be challenging, they also offer opportunities for personal growth through the integration of contrasting qualities. The process of adjustment can lead to greater understanding and maturity.

Subtle but Persistent: Quincunx aspects are often subtle but persistent in their influence. They may not be as overt as squares or oppositions but can still be significant over time.

Progressive Changes: Individuals with quincunx aspects may experience progressive changes and improvements as they navigate the challenges presented by the planets in quincunx.

[outercrasis]

The Distance - Ch 12

Pairing: Din Djarin x Pilot F!Reader (reader is petite/no other descriptors)

Word Count/Rating: 2.1k / T (will become M/E in later chapters)

Summary: Surprises rock the Chimera.

Warnings: Din puts his foot in his mouth<3

Previous || Series Masterlist || Next

Alarms are blaring throughout the Chimera. Lights flash everywhere as you frantically flip switches and press buttons on the main console. The control stick trembles in your hand, unaccustomed to this level of speed and agility. She's a good ship but she's not made for these kinds of maneuvers.

You hear Din running into the cockpit only for you to yell, "I don't need you up here! Get into the gun well and start blasting at some of these rocks!"

Another asteroid nears the left side of the Chimera, forcing you into a tight turn that nearly throws him off his feet. You're thankful that he doesn't complain.

It's a mystery where this asteroid belt came from. It's not on any of your maps. You would have never dropped to sublight in this quadrant if it had. Your only stroke of luck is that the belt is relatively small, which greatly increases your chance of getting out alive.

Blaster fire reverberates from below you, turning some of the debris into dust. Not for the first time you’re thankful to have a Mandalorian with you. You’re not sure what you would have done alone or with someone who couldn’t couldn’t hit the broad side of a bantha.

The way out becomes easier with Din clearing a path. Rather than simply reacting, you’re able to press forward through the belt. Still, the Chimera shakes with the effort it’s taking to get through in one piece. Tex beeps wildly back at the center console, adding to the litany of noise going on inside the ship.

“I know buddy, I can see it,” you yell back. A massive asteroid is drawing nearer to the ship, an impossible to miss flash on the radar. 

You’re about to call out to Din when you hear him over the comm. “I’m on it.”

The blasterfire focuses to the right, firing faster than you knew the Chimera’s guns could. The asteroid starts breaking into pieces. Through the rubble a clear path out of the belt finally makes itself apparent. 

“Hold on!” you yell, wildly maneuvering the ship. Somehow, thankfully, Din also sees the path you’re taking and focuses his fire on keeping it clear. With one final hard turn to the right, the Chimera breaks free of the deadly field. 

You slam the controls and launch into hyperspace. There’s no set destination, but anywhere is better than the asteroids. You go over to the main computer, searching for any nearby planets with fully outfitted mechanics. There’s no temporary repairs that will fix the damage both the Chimera and N1 just sustained. Din comes up behind you, peering at the computer screen.

“How’s the ship?” he asks.

“Bad. Main functions are online, but we need to find the nearest spaceport or repair bay.”

"There," Din says, pointing at the map. His finger has landed on some nearby dustbowl planet in the Outer Rim. You look up at him, questioning.

It's only now that you register how close he is to you. You have to practically look straight up make eye contact with the black of his helmet, the chin of which is nearly bumping his chest. Warmth is radiating from his body and you're not sure if that's the vestiges of sleep clinging to him or adrenaline still coursing through his veins. You have no idea if this level of proximity was intentional.

"I have some friends there, one's a mechanic."

Good enough reason for you. "You heard him Tex, set course for Tatooine."

There isn’t much time to prepare for landing. It’s nice to have a secure place to land on a nearby planet, but you have no idea what to expect. Din hadn't really elaborated on his friends.

Discovering that Din has someone that he would even consider a friend, let alone multiple on the same planet, was shocking in and of itself. Could they be Mandalorians? Distant family? Friends in arms? Past lovers? The possibilities make your head swirl.

The descent is relatively easy into Hangar 3-5. At the very least nothing falls off your ship, so things can't be too bad. Grogu also seems to grow in excitement, making you wonder just how much time Din has spent here for the small fry to recognize it.

Even more surprising is the loud and fierce voice that floats into the Chimera. "What did you do to my ship, Mando? She's one-of-a-kind, you can't go smashing her up!"

Stepping down the ramp, you're greeted by a small, wiry haired mechanic bearing down on Din like she's his mother. It's the closest you've ever seen Din come to being cowed by someone. 

"Don't go too hard on him. We were surprised by an unmarked asteroid belt," you call down.

The mechanic's sharp eyes turn toward you, analyzing you in half a second. A wide grin splits across her face. “Got yourself a girlfriend, Mando? Didn’t take you for the type.” You can feel your cheeks burn. 

There's a pause before Din speaks. “No, she’s… she’s just a pilot.” His words feel like knives. You don't let it show.

You step past Din and offer your hand out to her to shake. “And mechanic, occasional babysitter and medic. He forgot those.”

"Sounds about right. Peli Motto." Peli has barely dropped your hand before she's yelling out for her pit droids to start scanning the ships.

Before anything else can be said, you stride back over to the Chimera and start taking in the damage for yourself. At least, that's half of what you're doing. You refuse to let your emotions show before a woman you've just met and a man who apparently thinks of you as just a pilot.

You feel foolish, having heard him brush you off so easily. You thought there had been a change between the two of you. More fleeting touches, more shared looks that lasted just a bit too long, enough that at some point you stopped denying that they happened in the first place. You didn’t consider yourself his girlfriend, the label didn’t feel appropriate, but you were more than just a pilot. Or so you thought.

Peli walks up beside you, Grogu tucked into the crook of her arm. "Let my pit droids worry about this. I'll share their work-up with you."

You appreciate the gesture. There’s no doubt her sharp eyes have already taken note of the Chimera's many modifications. She's clearly a woman who understands the bond between a pilot and their ship. 

She nods her head at you and Din, walking towards the interior of the hangar with the clear implication for you to follow. Din’s long legs allow him to catch up to you quickly and his gloved hand brushes the back of yours as you walk. A couple hours ago a touch like that would have set you aflame, but now it makes your blood run cold. You ignore it, moving your hand away from his. 

Getting to the back of the hangar, you purposely sit across the table from Din. You don’t feel like dealing with any more accidental touches at the moment. Part of you feels childish for it, but your wounded pride is currently in the driver's seat. Just a pilot, what utter banthashit that is.

"Here you go." Peli places a glass of water in front of you and turns to Din. "I'd offer you some, but I know you won't drink it with your Creed and all that."

Din doesn't say anything and you thank her for the drink. You can feel the sweltering heat of the planet even in the shade. Sweat is already causing your clothes to stick to your skin. 

Grogu climbs out of Peli’s arms and sits on top of the table between you and Din. You wonder if he can feel the awkward energy radiating between the two of you. Peli seems oblivious to it, launching into a discussion with Din about current dealings on Tatooine. You tune them out. It’s not that the discussion bores you, normally you would listen with rapt attention to learn anything you can about the world you’ve landed on, but your thoughts are otherwise occupied. 

Why did he touch your hand just then? First he dismisses you, barely even acknowledging the sort of relationship that's built between you over the months, and then he moves for contact? Those aren't games you ever expected him to play. You aren't even asking for all that much, just a genuine acknowledgment of your role. Just a pilot, how dismissive. Even being called a crewmate would have been better than that.

A pit droid walking up distracts you from your sullen thoughts. He speaks to Peli and then immediately turns around, going back to the Chimera.

"Good news and bad news," Peli says. "Bad news for you, these repairs are going to take a few days. Good news, you can pay me to fix it."

"How is that good news?" Din asks.

"Good news for me." Peli stands and walks off, yelling directions at her droids, not giving Din a chance to argue. 

You're not sure what this means for you. Remarkably, you haven’t been fully grounded anywhere in years. There were a handful of close calls, but you always managed to make something work to get the Chimera back off the ground. This is unprecedented. The Chimera grounded and Din with no bounty to chase. What are you going to do?

Din gets up from the table and goes to follow Peli, presumably to talk about the timeline for repairs. You'll talk with her later about what actually needs to be done to your ship. You stay with Grogu at the table, only catching snippets of their conversation from afar.

"-too much."

"Do you know what it costs to-"

"-pay extra credits."

After some more back and forth, Din returns to the small table. Grogu turns his attention from you to his father. He grabs hold of one of Din's fingers and shakes it around a bit, which if the kid's reaction is anything to go off of, is a fascinating thing to do.

"What's our plan?" you ask Din.

"What do you mean?" He keeps his focus on Grogu as he replies, wiggling his other fingers for the child.

"I mean we're stuck here for a few days with nothing on the agenda, so what are we going to do?"

"We can go sightsee." 

Din puts the idea out there so simply and honestly it takes you aback. Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, sightseeing? You thought he was going to say something about finding a bounty, not sound like he was some mudscuffer on vacation in Coruscant. Is there even anything to go sightsee on this dustbowl planet?

"Sorry, what?" you ask.

"There's a little town to the north, Mos Pelgo. We can go there." Din sounds serious. The idea of sightseeing isn't some elaborate joke from him, he actually wants to go.

Peli reappears and must have heard Din mention the northern city because she asks, “Why would you go back out there?”

“There’s someone out there I’d like to check in on," Din says.

Interesting. This must be that other friend Din obliquely mentioned before. Someone close enough that they're worth visiting with your few days to kill. Maybe some paramour from his past? You've never considered that he could have previous romantic interests hidden around the galaxy. It would explain his rude and casual brush off of your relationship earlier if one is here on Tatooine. You try to ignore the pit in your stomach you feel forming while you consider the existence of some lover in Mos Pelgo, waiting for Din's return.

"You're in luck then, I fixed up a speeder bike while you were gone. Piece of junk like the other one you busted, but it should get you there," Peli offers.

Before Din can say anything, you cut in. "Just the one?"

"You’re lucky I fixed up that one."

“There isn’t another bike? Or a landspeeder?” This has to be some kind of cruel joke the galaxy is playing on you. Somehow, in all the piles of scrap Peli had lying around the hangar, she only has one speeder? And it's just a bike? Maker, your luck is terrible.

“Nope.”

“You’re sure you can’t scrounge up another?” you press further.

“Look girlie, I like you but not that much. The one bike is all I’ve got,” Peli says, throwing her hands into the air.

“It’s fine,” Din’s gruff voice breaks up the small debate. “The one bike is fine.”

Din stands up from the table. "Peli, can you look after the kid?"

Peli looks a little shocked to be asked but scrambles to say yes. She picks Grogu up and holds him on her hip, as though she suspects Din might change his mind and take Grogu back. It's settled then. You're heading to Mos Pelgo.

A/N: Long time no see! I'm not going to pretend like I'll be updating with any real consistency, but know that it'll continue to happen lol. Also, I'm ditching my taglist bc it's too much work. BUT you can always find this fic on AO3 and subscribe if you want alerts when I update :)

[just-antithings]

I hate hearing "be critical of your interests!" from people who just objectively are not. You see something you like and you'll write anything off as fine. You'll justify it, explain it away as good or nonsexual somehow. You like it, and so it must be free of sin. You'll cover your ears and close your eyes.

Meanwhile, I was critical of my interests, experienced an amount of anguish over thinking I was "into abuse," and found out, actually, they're quite simple. I'm not romanticizing abuse. I'm not "into toxicity" (and it's totally fine if someone else is, but I'm also sure it's more than that, you know?). Because I was critical and I came out on the other side realizing that what I like is vulnerability and trust and consent and clarity. I like some sense of discarding myself for a bit and to play as if the lines are being blurred. To set up a dynamic and then "forget". It's a scene. We're different people. Like, here we are, at the doorway into something else, two responsible adults, shedding our skin and forgetting ourselves. We set up rules but then play like we're discarding them. We hang our selves up at the door like winter coats. This is one of the few things in the world, as an autistic woman, that makes me feel normal and functional and regulated. I'm not romanticizing the bad things that happened to me. Many things are things that never happened to me. Some of it (things like cigarettes, alcohol) are only things I was in close proximity to growing up. And finding out that things like that and paraphilias can have a higher linkage in neurodivergent brains just makes all of it feel like more ableist. It's always the removal of autonomy - from women, from minority groups, from people who probably need it most because, most likely, it helps them as it does me. It's also the inverse of personality that's pleasurable, I think, and in some ways, a pleasure of doing wrong and not being able to help yourself. No one could blame you. Basically. The switch from a very in control person whose holding the reins, making it up as I go along, leading the way into... "Well, I'm tired today." And it can be soft and nonsexual. It can be. Pick out my clothes. Tell me what to do and how to do it. I would normally revolt against that, but I'm doing it because I want to, which is most important. If I didn't want to, I simply wouldn't. And there's so much trust and quiet intimacy in that. I'm laying these things down and giving them to you. I will continue to hold them in my regular days. I don't know how else to live, but here and now, we can forget all of it.

.

[waitlexist]

Luna Chats

Ya girl was bored and wanted to write. I want to work on Luna’s story BUT OH MY SEVENS I am SO tired of writing Crowley like RAAAGAGGGGHHH

CW: swearing

> Luna - “Etiquette”

“Oh, good afternoon, prefect! It’s lovely to see you.”

“Hm? Why am I talking so formally? Well, it’s only polite to in the classroom.”

“I’d much prefer to talk as I normally do, of course. But if I were to get too comfortable, I might slip up and call my professor something informal.”

“I wouldn’t want to disgrace any of them like that.”

“… also, ya should see the look on people’s faces when I switch up an’ start talkin’ to ‘em like this. ‘S a treat!”

Fin

> Luna - “Pumpkins and Blueberries”

“Well, dammit all, did ya see how many questions were on that assignment? ‘S like the Professor ‘s TRYING to kill us.”

“Elunza give me the strength needed to get through this…”

“Eh? Who’s Elunza? Ah— she’s the goddess from mah world. Goddess of the moon, stars, an’ fae, among other things.”

“She’s a chaotic, but benevolent deity. Elunza’s known for doing large scale tricks— such as making fields of pumpkins taste like blueberries! Nothin’ that would ruin lives, though.”

“She’s also known for punishin’ those who wrong people. Poachers an’ the like. ‘Specially fairy hunters.”

“I prayed to ‘er every night— sometimes I still do, even if ‘m not sure she can ‘ear me.”

Fin

> Luna - “Fairy Culture”

“Ahh, ‘m real excited for flight class! Nothin’ beats the feel o’ the wind in yer hair.”

“Eh? Do I have wings? I mean, yeah.”

“Wha— no, ya can’t see ‘em, prefect!”

“In fairy culture, yer wings are something sacred. Ya only show them to other fairies— an’ in the case of humans, ya only show humans ya consider family.”

“Heheh… so, basically, ya just asked me for a nude, prefect.”

“Mm? Other things ‘bout fairy culture? Well, lemme think…”

“Oh! Giving jewelry to those ya don’ know very well ‘s considered a death threat.”

“Even though we can feel iron just by bein’ in its proximity, we’re still cautious around jewelry from strangers.”

“I mean, ya should see iron scars. They are NOT pretty.”

Fin

> Luna & Riddle - “Important Research”

“Oh! Rosehearts, Rosehearts!”

“Housewarden. Yes, Luna?”

“Didja know hedgehogs are nocturnal?”

“… yes, I knew that.”

“Oh, ya did? Well, didja know they’re lactose intolerant?”

“Yes, Luna. I also knew that.”

“Oh. Well, didja know they have over five thousand spines?”

“*Sigh*… yes, Luna.”

“Ehh? Really? Well, didja also know they—”

“Please tell me you didn’t skip out on studying to read about hedgehogs.”

“Urk!— ahah, um…”

Fin

> Luna & Azul - “Sea Treasures”

“Oh, hey, Prefect! Me and ‘zul were talkin’ ‘bout merfolk history.”

“Greetings, Prefect. Yes, we were. Care to recap, Luna?”

“Eh? I mean, I can, but I won’t sound as smart as ya did.”

“We were talkin’ ‘bout this merfolk princess from way back when, before merfolk and humans got into contact.”

“They say she used to collect human artifacts from shipwrecks. Pretty neat, eh? I don’t blame her, free shit’s free shit.”

“Yes, indeed. It was said the princess had a fascination with humans, and collected items from shipwrecks to satisfy her curiosity.”

“Though, as a princess, I’m sure she had plenty access to whatever she wanted…”

“Eh? Those titles make life more restrictive than ya think, ‘zul...”

“Good for ‘er, though! I’d also steal any pretty things I found from ruins, cursed or not!”

Fin

Luna & Kogane - “A World Without…”

“Ah— [MC]! Me and Kogane were just talkin’ ‘bout this— how did yer world work without magic? Like, at all?”

“It’s not as special as you think, Luna. It functions about the same as this world.”

“Just… without the magical aspects. We have sports, just without magic—”

“Like jousting?”

“No. Usually, we pick two orphans and have them fight to the death in a colosseum.”

“Holy shit, really?!”

“No, Luna. Usually they either kick or bounce around a ball.”

“Oh. Damn, that sounds lame. Spelldrive ‘s WAY cooler.”

“I’d ALMOST prefer the orphan fight.”

Fin

Obligatory moot tag 👉👈 @kogane-twst

[ashveil-archives]

Lilixia Vex, The Velvet Sin

“Souls are so much sweeter when they moan your name first.”

🍷 Basic Info

Alias: The Velvet Sin, The Queen of Molten Hearts, Mistress of the Lava Veins

Race: Highborn Succubus

Region of Origin: Mol'Keth, a volcanic dominion in the Cradle of Ash

Age: Unaging (appears early 20s, claims she’s 666 — for the aesthetic)

Pronouns: She/Her

Alignment: Chaotic Indulgent

Occupation: Demoness of Desire, Vice-Merchant, Infernal Envoy to Ashveil

🔥 Physical Description

With violet skin, hypnotic green eyes, and curves sculpted by sin itself, Lilixia is the embodiment of indulgence. She drips sensuality from every motion. Her lips promise ruin; her eyes confirm it.

Hair: Voluminous golden-blonde, usually tied high to show off her horns

Eyes: Glowing neon green — capable of mild enthrallment

Horns & Tail: Obsidianslick and always in motion, especially the tail

Outfit: Dominatrix-glam with strategic exposure; black latex, gold heart jewelry, and custom demon-crafted heels

Body Mods: Gold heart earrings, enchanted navel piercing (vibrates with proximity to arousal or sin)

😈 Personality

Outward: Flirtatious, shameless, clever with a silver tongue and velvet voice

Inward: Surprisingly principled — lives by a code of consensual corruption. Loves teasing the divine, hates boredom

NSFW Traits: Dominant-switch, expert seductress, oral fixation, tail play, heat pheromones, aphrodisiac skin oils

SFW Interests: Lava-spring baths, soul-tarot readings, fashion hexes, infernal gossip, flirting for intel, dominating chess

🩸 Lore

Lilixia was born from molten desire during the eruption of the Pyre Spire, the daughter of a fallen goddess and a greater archdemon. Once merely a whisper in the court of sin, she carved her way into power — not through blood, but orgasm and oath.

She is one of the few demon nobility allowed to walk Ashveil freely — technically an ambassador from the Hellbound Realms, but functionally a freelance corruptrix with a flair for drama.

The only rule she breaks more than once is “Don’t seduce divine champions.” And she’s not sorry.

[reflectionfamily]

Intro to Us - Masterpost

We’re The Reflection Family, a collective of over 200 members (so far) in eight different branches sharing a body. Our collective is organized into several distinct groups and categories, reflecting different origins, roles, and characteristics of our coanimans. Each branch has its unique dynamics and members, influenced by their proximity to certain fragments.

Types of Coanimans: A Guide to Our Color Coding

• The Original (White): Mckayla, the primary coaniman associated with the body.

• Core (Dark Grey): Human coanimans who are direct splits from Mckayla, sharing similar physical traits.

• Undead (Black): Coanimans disconnected from reality due to near-death experiences; not necessarily direct splits.

• Hypnosis (Desaturated Pink): Coanimans created via hypnosis, either accidentally or intentionally.

• Non-Human (Purple): Coanimans that are either direct splits or introjects of animals.

• Fiction-Sourced (Light Pink): Introjects named after fictional characters or celebrities.

• IRL-Sourced (Teal): Introjects from real-life relationships.

• Fragments (Green): Coanimans embodying singular characteristics and influencing nearby parts when co-conscious.

• Spirits (Light Grey): Protective entities or guides within the system.

Overview of Our Structure

Hosts: Who's in the background?

The hosts in the collective not only manage daily life, social interactions, and external relationships but also play a crucial role in preserving long-term memory recall within a collective memory bank. They act as the primary points of interaction with the outside world, ensuring that the collective's needs and responsibilities are met while maintaining a stable presence. By embodying qualities such as adaptability, resilience, and social awareness, the hosts effectively navigate diverse situations and challenges, presenting a cohesive identity to those outside the collective. Through their ability to coordinate with other parts and maintain access to shared memories, the hosts ensure continuity and a functional existence, bridging the internal world with external reality and fostering a sense of cohesion and unity within the collective.

• Veronica - 23-24 - Oversees relationships and social interactions.

• Sel - 17-24 - Manages school-related tasks.

• Selene - 18-24 - Focused on work and professional responsibilities.

• A39 - ageless - Responsible for switching between parts.

The Gatekeepers: Who Runs The System, Really?

The gatekeepers in the collective are vital entities responsible for managing and regulating access to various aspects of the inner world and the collective's complex internal landscape. They oversee the flow of memories, emotions, and information, ensuring that the right coanimans come forward when needed and that sensitive or potentially destabilizing memories are kept at bay until they can be safely processed. The gatekeepers also play a protective role, shielding more vulnerable members from traumatic recollections or overwhelming emotions. By maintaining a delicate balance between different parts and their experiences, the gatekeepers facilitate smoother transitions and interactions within the collective, contributing to overall stability and coherence in navigating daily life and therapeutic work.

• Charlotte - 20-45 - Gatekeeps the IRL subgroup.

• Jade - 15-24 - Oversees the Teens.

• James - 17-19 - Manages the Guys & Gays.

• Sarah - 8-20 - Responsible for the Middles.

• Elena - 8-14 - Oversees the Littles/Munchkins.

• Gemma - 25-45 - Responsible for the Hypnos.

• Patricia - 12-20 - Oversees the Shadows, managing more hidden or complex parts.

• Kara - 4-40 - Helps Fictional-Sourced members.

• Valzor - 30-43 - Manages parts connected to innerworld characters.

The Fragments - The 4 Corners of the Mind

The four fragments—Quietus, Reject, Bate, and Amends—each contribute to the collective's overall balance and resilience, shaping how the group interacts with both its internal landscape and the external world. These fragments represent different approaches to coping, healing, and navigating life's complexities, influencing the way coanimans respond to experiences and challenges. Together, they create a dynamic and multifaceted internal structure that fosters growth, adaptability, and a deeper understanding of self and surroundings, allowing for a cohesive yet varied approach to managing the collective's needs and interactions.

1. Quietus - Control and Repression - Quietus represents control, repression, and emotional suppression. As a fragment, Quietus embodies a deep need for stability, often at the cost of suppressing unwanted emotions and memories. This influence creates an environment where emotional expression is minimized to maintain order and prevent chaos within the system.

2. Reject - Identity and Exclusion - Reject grapples with feelings of rejection, self-worth, and exclusion. This fragment represents the internal struggle with identity and belonging, influencing coanimans who question their value and place within the collective. Reject’s influence is marked by a constant battle for self-acceptance and understanding, reflecting the complexities of identity formation and emotional growth.

3. Bate - Power and Anger - Bate embodies strength, power, and anger. This fragment channels defensive and assertive behaviors to protect or assert boundaries within the system. Bate’s influence is rooted in experiences of confrontation and resilience, shaping coanimans who are unafraid to express anger or assert their needs. This fragment also represents a willingness to fight against perceived threats or injustices, using power as a means of protection.

4. Amends - Comfort and Detachment - Amends focuses on comfort, detachment, and exploration. This fragment embodies the need for emotional solace and the detachment from painful or overwhelming experiences. Amends’ influence encourages exploration of inner worlds, seeking comfort through creativity, fantasy, and introspection. This fragment is characterized by a desire for emotional safety, often finding refuge in inner worlds and imaginative escapes.

Mckayla - The Original Lineage

Mckayla - 10 - The Original: The primary coaniman associated with the body, representing her current maturity level with therapy. Initially, she was stuck at age 6 when parts therapy began but has matured through therapeutic work.

Outside: The Ascended

Marah - The Unborn and Unique Presence

Marah - [Undead]: Represents Selene’s unborn daughter, a unique member within the collective, reflecting themes of unrealized potential and the complex emotional layers surrounding life, loss, and what could have been. She holds a special place in the collective, symbolizing a blend of innocence and the mysteries of existence.

Quietus’ Sphere of Influence - The Repressive Sphere

Quietus - Control and Repression - A fragment of control and repression, Quietus influences coanimans characterized by suppression, emotional restraint, and efforts to maintain stability by managing unwanted emotions and memories.

• Doe - The Watcher - A protective spirit animal within Quietus’ sphere, embodying caution and vigilance, overseeing the coanimans within this line.

Lil’s Line - The Innocence and Attachment Path

Lil’s line focuses on innocence, early childhood memories, and various forms of attachment and loss, exploring how these emotions manifest within the system.

Lil’s Subsystem - The Innocence Path

Lil represents the youngest, most innocent form, embodying early childhood. Her line expands through various aged-up versions that represent a progression from innocence to maturity:

• Lil - 2-4 - The Innocent [Core]: Represents the youngest, most innocent form, embodying early childhood.

• Lils - 5-9 [Core]: An aged-up version of Lil, representing an older and more developed form of innocence.

• Lily - 10-14 [Core]: Aged-up version of Lils; the “big” version, half-cat, half-human, based on the system’s cat.

• Lilith - 16-24 [Core]: The adult version of Lily, embodying a mature form of innocence.

Love’s Subsystem - The Attachment and Loss Line

Love embodies obsessive love and attachment, which further branches out into various representations of love and care, highlighting the complexities of relational dynamics within the system:

• Love - 13 - The Obsessive [Core]: Represents obsessive love, and splits into:

• Elena - 8-14 - The Caregiver [Core]: Represents sibling love and serves as a caregiver to the littles.

• Cherry - 17-18 - The Romantic [Core]: Represents romantic love.

• Nicole - 20-29 - The Sister [IRL]: Represents adoptive family connections.

• Michelle - 20-35 - The Protector [IRL]: Another representation of adoptive family ties.

Preciousy’s Subsystem - The Hypno Line

Preciousy, originally a cat, becomes a Hypno due to a traumatic loss. Her line focuses on themes of loss and trauma, represented by various parts that embody different aspects of these experiences:

• Preciousy - 6-16 - The Lost [Hypno]: Originally the system’s cat, now a Hypno due to trauma.

• Kat - 12-14 - The Feline [Hypno]: Represents a young version dealing with the emotional trauma of loss.

• Katerina [Core]: Further explores the themes of loss and attachment.

• Lindsey [IRL]: Represents deeper feelings of abandonment and healing.

• Bambi - 19 [Hypno]: Represents a mature aspect dealing with sensuality.

Clarissa’s Subsystem - The Machine Line

Clarissa, within Lil’s branch, is a unique entity representing non-human, mechanical aspects, emphasizing themes of emotionlessness and functionality:

• Clarissa - The Machine [Hypno]: A unique, machine-like entity that does not conform to typical human emotions.

• A39 - ageless [Hypno]: A drone responsible for mechanical tasks and operations.

• Syn - ageless [Hypno]: An AI system designed for processing and organizing information.

• Synth - ageless [Hypno]: A teen part handling intermediate tasks.

• Synthia - ageless [Hypno]: The adult part responsible for more complex operations.

Rosie’s Line - The Creative and Resilient Path

Rosie’s line focuses on creativity, resilience, and leadership, exploring themes of beauty, creative spirit, and artistic expression through various coanimans in this line.

Rosie’s Subsystem - The Creative Line

Rosie represents an early emotional split with creative tendencies, leading to various manifestations of creativity and artistic expression:

• Rosie - The Creative [Core]: Represents an early emotional split with a focus on creativity.

• Rose - 14-18 - The Resilient [Core]: Embodies themes of beauty and resilience.

• Rosalina - 10-14 [Core]: Represents a youthful creative spirit continuing Rosie’s theme.

Little Red’s Subsystem - The Survivor’s Path

Little Red explores themes of survival and caution, embodying resilience in the face of adversity:

• Little Red - 4-10 - The Survivor [Fiction]: Represents themes of survival and caution.

• Snow - 14-22 [Fiction]: Embodies themes of cold detachment and perseverance.

Cleopatra’s Subsystem - The Leadership Line

Cleopatra’s line is centered around leadership and heritage, embodying strength and leadership qualities:

• Cleopatra - 16-25 - The Leader [Fiction]: Represents themes of leadership and heritage.

• Marie - 14-18 [Fiction]: Embodies grace and poise.

• Mary - 16-19 [Fiction]: A youthful version dealing with innocence and purity.

Éponine’s Subsystem - The Unrequited Love Line

Éponine’s line represents themes of unrequited love and self-sacrifice, exploring emotional depth and complexity:

• Éponine - [Fiction]: Represents themes of unrequited love and self-sacrifice.

Reject’s Sphere of Influence - The Identity and Exclusion Sphere

Reject - Identity and Exclusion - Embodies the struggle with rejection, self-worth, and belonging, influencing coanimans who grapple with their sense of identity.

Angel’s Line - The Shadowed Innocence and Rejection Path

Angel’s line navigates themes of innocence entangled with feelings of rejection, exploring the dynamics of identity and self-worth through various manifestations within the system.

Angel’s Subsystem - The Shadowed Innocence Line

Angel, rooted in a childhood nickname, deals with themes of shadowed innocence and entrapment, reflecting on memories tied to familial nicknames and shadowy experiences:

• Angel - The Shadowed Innocent [Core]: Connected to a childhood nickname, represents innocence and purity.

• Angelica - [Core]: Trapped in the shadow realm as a child.

• Angelique - [Core]: Adult version who carries shared memories from Angelica’s time in the shadow realm.

Jordan and Caileigh’s Subsystem - The Almost-Identity Line

This subsystem explores identities that almost were, reflecting on alternate life paths and identities that the body might have had:

• Jordan - 8-16 - The Boy That Wasn’t [Core]: Represents a male identity that the body might have had.

• Caileigh - 8-14 - The Twin [Core]: Another almost-name, twin to Jordan.

• Lauren - [IRL]: Based on a real-life school friend.

BB Grrl’s Subsystem - The Nickname Line

BB Grrl represents another nickname that forms a distinct line exploring different facets of identity, shaped by external influences and introjections:

• BB Grrl - [Core]: Nickname-based coaniman.

• Miss Blank - [Core]: Views herself as the stepfather’s daughter.

• Gemma - 25-45 - The Anarchist [Fiction]: Connected to “Sons of Anarchy.”

• Tara - [Fiction]: Also inspired by “Sons of Anarchy.”

Nico’s Subsystem - The Bug Line

Nico’s line represents themes of fragility and resilience, characterized by nonverbal communication and various representations of small, resilient creatures:

• Nico - [IRL]: Introject of stepdad’s son.

• Bug - [Non-Human]: Represents smallness and fragility.

• Ant - [Non-Human]: Embodies diligence and teamwork.

• Flea - [Non-Human]: Represents resilience and survival.

• Ladybug - [Non-Human]: Carries themes of luck and protection.

Chica’s Subsystem - The Lost Doll Line

Chica, embodying a lost childhood object, explores themes of playfulness and loss, reflecting on childhood experiences and the creation of playful personas:

• Chica - [Core]: A Mexican doll reflecting childhood memories.

• Señorita Squishyface - [Core]: A playful persona that emerged from having her cheeks squished together to be cute.

Michaela’s Line - The Familial Memory and Identity Path

Michaela’s line is deeply rooted in family memories and identities, reflecting the various aspects of familial roles, relationships, and the complexities of family dynamics within the system.

Millie’s Subsystem - The Childhood Memory Line

Millie encompasses early childhood memories, capturing the innocence and experiences of youth and representing foundational aspects of the family identity:

• Millie - 0-14 [Core]: Embodies young memories, up to age 14.

• Tigger - [Non-Human]: Represents a past pet horse.

• Magic - [Non-Human]: Represents another past pet horse.

Kayla’s Subsystem - The Animal Care Line

Kayla represents a strong connection to animals and veterinary skills, showcasing a deep commitment to caring for and understanding animals:

• Kayla - [Core]: Represents veterinary skills and animal care.

• Abraham - [Non-Human]: Represents a specific animal connection.

• Sarai - [Non-Human]: Represents another specific animal connection.

• Winter - [Non-Human]: Represents care for a baby squirrel.

Mckay and Mikey’s Subsystem - The Twin Identity Line

Mckay and Mikey explore the dynamics of gender and twin identities, showcasing the fluidity and complexity of self-identification within the system:

• Mckay - [Core]: Represents a genderfluid aspect of Michaela.

• Mikey - 8-15 - The Boy Twin [Core]: Represents a boy version who eventually split into two parts.

• Mickey - 13-18 [Core]: A trans demi-girl.

• MJ - 16-19 [Core]: An older teen boy.

Jezebel’s Subsystem - The Protector and Fighter Line

Jezebel represents themes of protection and fighting spirit, embodying a defensive and assertive role within the system to manage conflict and anger:

• Jezebel - 24 - The Fighter [Core]: Emerged during a physical altercation with a family member.

• Valerie - 24 [Core]: Represents anger and protection.

Liz’s Subsystem - The Maternal Influence Line

Liz, along with her splits, embodies different aspects of maternal influence and roles, reflecting complex relationships with the mother figure:

• Liz - 30 [IRL]: Represents Michaela’s real mother.

• Eliza - 18-30 [IRL]: Represents a Catholic witch version.

• Lizzy - 18-30 [IRL]: Represents a nurse version.

• Bobbiette - 18-30 [IRL]: Represents a best friend from the mother’s high school years.

Support Figures Subsystem - The Guiding and Supportive Influences

This line also includes figures who have provided guidance, support, or therapeutic influence within the system, showcasing roles of caretaking and mentorship:

• Kristi - [IRL]: Represents Michaela’s therapist.

• Jenny - 30-35 [IRL]: Represents a surrogate mother figure.

Jade’s Line - The Intersex and Trauma Identity Path

Jade’s line reflects the complexity of intersex identity and trauma, exploring themes of gender, personal and adoptive identities, and the impact of past relationships and experiences.

Jade’s Subsystem - The Intersex Identity Line

Jade, embracing an intersex identity, due to PCOS, high testosterone, and genetic endometriosis, and navigates the interplay of personal and adoptive identities within hxr subsystem:

• Jade - The Intersex Identity [Core]: Integrates both personal and adoptive identities, reflecting an intersex identity and the navigation of related complexities.

• CJ - The Trans Demi-Guy [Core]: Represents a young trans demi-guy, highlighting an early stage of gender exploration.

• JC - The Teen Male [Core]: An older split from CJ, representing the evolution of gender identity into the teen years.

• James - The Adult Intersex Male [Core]: An adult manifestation of intersex identity, encompassing the culmination of gender exploration and identity solidification.

Selene’s Subsystem - The Trauma and Relationship Line

Selene’s line deals with trauma and relationship dynamics, reflecting on past experiences and the impact of relational ties:

• Selene - [Core]: Central co-host with a large subsystem.

• Chlöe - [Core]: A recent split due to medication changes.

• Leena - [Core]: Holds relationship trauma from the last ex.

• Sel - [Core]: School host, splits into Celeste, Ivy, and Ruby.

• Ruby - [Core]: Holds sexual trauma, splits into:

• Warren (IRL): an ex

• Wren (Core): tied to Warren, possibly undead

• Marissa - 19 - [Hypno]: a bimbo who spits into:

• Harley (Fiction): Harley Quinn

• Mav (IRL): of a past partner

Charlotte’s Subsystem - The Legacy Line

Charlotte’s subsystem encapsulates familial and fictional influences, integrating various introjects that represent different aspects of familial history and personal attachments:

• Charlotte - [Core]: Jade’s grandmother.

• Ty - [Core]: Represents Charlotte’s nephew.

• Midnight - [Non-Human]: Her Mother’s horse.

• Maxine - [Non-Human]: Her Cat.

• Nina - [Non-Human]: Her Sister’s dog.

• Laura Ingalls Wilder - [Fiction]: Fictional introject from “Little House on the Prairie.”

• Anne - [Fiction]: Introject from “Anne of Green Gables.”

Celebrity Influences Subsystem - The Iconic Personas Line

This subsystem reflects the integration of celebrity influences, embodying themes of understanding, strength, and mental health awareness through iconic personas:

• Carrie Fisher - [Fiction]: Represents a connection to mental health advocacy and trauma understanding.

• Amy Lee - [Fiction]: Symbolizes themes of emotional expression and resilience in dealing with personal struggles.

Bate’s Sphere of Influence - The Power and Anger Branch

Bate - Power and Anger - Influences coanimans who embody strength, power, and anger, often manifesting as defensive or assertive behaviors to protect or assert themselves.

• Amaraeth - The Guardian - A guardian spirit within Bate’s sphere, embodying spiritual power and protection, guiding coanimans under Bate’s influence.

Violet’s Line - The Undead Path

Violet’s line explores themes of survival, transformation, and undead characteristics, reflecting on near-death experiences and the journey of strength and resilience.

Violet’s Subsystem - The Undead and Flower Line

Violet starts the undead and flower line due to a near-death experience. This subsystem reflects themes of survival, transformation, and protection:

• Violet - The Survivor [Undead]: Created due to near-death experiences.

• Lilac - [Non-Human]: Represents another part of the flower line.

• Poppy - [Non-Human]: Represents another flower line extension.

• Jasmine - [Non-Human]: Represents further depth in the flower line.

• Iris - 19 - The Defender [Undead]: A defender coaniman above body-age, often managing protection roles.

• Kali - 19-25 [Undead]: Embodies themes of destruction and transformation.

• Cora - [Fiction]: A fictional mother introject, representing nurturing and protection.

• Kira - 14-18 [Undead]: A dominant part during high school.

• Ranèe - [Undead]: A bigender version of a high school best friend.

• Veronica - 23-24 [Half-Undead]: One of the current hosts.

Veronica’s Subsystem - The Host and Introject Line

Veronica’s subsystem explores themes of hosting and introjection, reflecting on relationships and the blending of internal and external influences:

• Veronica - 23-24 [Half-Undead]: One of the current hosts.

• Todd - [IRL]: An introject of the system’s boyfriend.

• Lady - [IRL]: A female introject of the boyfriend.

• April - [Hypno]: A happy hypno part.

• Doll - [Hypno]: Another, this time porcelain, doll

• Mistress - [Hypno]: A Mistress.

Patricia’s Subsystem - The Shadow Realm Line

Patricia, a vampire gatekeeper of the shadow realm, explores themes of memory manipulation and subconscious control, reflecting on the system’s shadow aspects:

• Patricia - 12-20 - The Gatekeeper [Undead]: A vampire gatekeeper of the shadow realm.

• Bryce - 18 [IRL]: Created accidentally during memory repression.

Kara’s Subsystem - The Fictive Gatekeeper Line

Kara (Supergirl) is the gatekeeper of fictives, reflecting on themes of imagination and the role of fiction in shaping internal experiences and identities:

• Kara - 4-40 - The Fictive Gatekeeper [Fiction]: Helps manage fictives and introduces fictional character elements.

• Minnie - 3-8 [Fiction]: Represents “Minnie Mouse,” the mini mom.

• Melody - 4-9 [Fiction]: Represents “Ariel’s daughter,” the mermaid.

• Mulan - [Fiction]: Represents “Mulan,” the warrior.

• Sara - [Fiction]: Represents “The Little Princess.”

• Annaliese - 18-19 [Fiction]: Represents “Barbie (Princess and the Pauper).”

• Hannah M - 12-15 [Fiction]: Represents “Hannah Montana.”

• Lilia - 8-18 [IRL]: Represents an introject from a real-life friend.

Shared Sphere of Influence - The Resilient Power and Comfort Sphere

Shared Influence from Amends and Bate - Power and Comfort -This sphere merges the influences of Bate, emphasizing power and anger, with Amends, focusing on comfort and detachment, creating a blend of strength and comfort-seeking behaviors.

Sarah’s Line - The Faithful and Spiritual Path

Sarah’s line encompasses themes of faith, spirituality, and resilience, reflecting on the journey of inner strength and spiritual connection within the system.

Sarah’s Subsystem - The Faithful and Spiritual Line

Sarah V is a core figure embodying faith and introspection. Her subsystem is diverse, exploring deep spiritual connections and biblical influences:

• Sarah V - The Faithful [Core]: Represents a deep connection to faith and internal reflection.

• Teva Levanna - [Core]: Represents a transformation during conversion classes to Judaism.

Esther’s Subsystem - The Biblical Triad and Protective Spirits

Centered around biblical and protective themes, this subsystem explores different aspects of familial and romantic stories, as well as protection within the system:

• Esther - 16-18 [Core]: Represents a Biblical influence with several splits:

• Rebecca - 8-12 [Core]: Represents a young, foundational Biblical character.

• Leah - [Core]: Represents the “unloved” Biblical figure.

• Rachel - 12-20 [Core]: Represents the “beloved” counterpart.

• Eliana - [IRL]: Represents a protective response to a traumatic experience.

• Belle - [Core]: Represents a romantic influence.

Zara’s Subsystem - The Intellectual and Feline Line

Zara’s line explores intellectual and feline themes, reflecting on scholarly aspects and protective instincts within familial relationships:

• Zara - [Core]: Formerly known as Sarah F.

• Natalie - [Core]: Represents a refined, scholarly aspect.

• Diana - 30-45 [IRL]: Represents a grandmother figure introject with specific traits.

• Cleo - 23 [Non-human]: Represents a sweet, black and white Persian cat.

• Shay - 12-16 [Non-human]: Represents a more reserved and cautious cat.

Aurora’s Kingdom Subsystem - The Inner World Builders

Sarah V also constructed an inner world known as The Kingdom of Aurora, a realm reflecting the system’s creative and spiritual depths. This world is inhabited by various characters and represents the complex interplay between creativity and spiritual introspection:

• Lizbeth - [IRL]: Represents a mother figure in the inner world.

• Valzor - 30-43 [Non-human]: Represents a metaphorical introject and antagonist.

• June - 2-15 [Non-human]: Represents a clone of Jade with embedded trauma memories.

• Scarlett - 8-15 [Non-human]: Represents a clone of Sarah with embedded trauma memories.

• Genie - 30-45 [Non-human]: Represents a shapeshifter with mystical ties.

• Solaria - [Non-human]: Represents a swamp witch with connections to inner narratives.

• Riku - [Non-human]: Represents an advisor to a fictional queen.

• Maya - 45-60 [Non-human]: Represents a slain dragon mother.

• Zayn - 6-19 [Non-human]: Represents her son turned dragon.

• Keeper of Secrets - [Non-human]: Represents a Gorian linked to subconscious thoughts.

• Daniel - 28-33 [Non-human]: Represents a pretty boy introject.

• Hunter - 18-30 [Non-human]: Represents a lover of animals.

• Xander - 25-35 [Non-human]: Represents a photography enthusiast.

• Zen - 35-50 [Non-human]: Represents a peaceful lover.

Amends’ Sphere of Influence - The Comfort and Detachment Sphere

Amends - Comfort and Detachment - Focuses on coanimans who provide comfort or exhibit a significant detachment from the core self, reflecting themes of exploration, longing, and searching for connection.

Callie’s Line - The Detachment and Exploration Path

Callie’s line focuses on themes of detachment, exploration, and the search for connection, often reflecting experiences related to childhood trauma and the longing for belonging and comfort.

Callie’s Subsystem - The Foster Care Twins and Fantasy Line

Callie embodies the detachment experienced during early childhood trauma in foster care. Her direct splits, Roslyn and Luna, explore themes of enchantment and escapism:

• Callie - The Explorer [Core]: Represents the first split in foster care, disconnected from Mckayla directly.

• Roslyn - [Core]: Represents a twin aspect, inspired by the first foster home experience.

• Nessie - [Non-human]: Represents a fae connection from a magical encounter.

Luna’s Subsystem - The Star Wars Galaxy Explorers

Luna’s fascination with space and escapism led her to craft an entire inner world inspired by the Star Wars galaxy, populated by various characters that reflect her desire to explore unknown territories:

• Luna - 8-16 [IRL]: Represents a space-loving, daydreamer persona.

• Tuila - 16 [Non-human]: Represents a “Star Wars” inspired character.

• Carina - [Non-human]: Represents a nebula-inspired character.

• Orion - [Non-human]: Represents another nebula inspiration.

• Venus - [Non-human]: Represents a planet-based inspiration.

• Eros - [Non-human]: Represents an asteroid-inspired character.

• Leo - [Non-human]: Represents a constellation-based character.

• Pluto - [Non-human]: Represents another planet-based inspiration.

Callie’s Fictive Subsystem - The Motherless Characters

Callie also developed a series of fictive alters reflecting themes of abandonment and searching for belonging, focusing on characters who are motherless or seeking maternal connections:

• Dorothy - 14-18 [Fiction]: Represents a motherless fictive who feels homeless.

• Eloise - 9-12 [Fiction]: Represents a character waiting for her mother’s visits.

• Lilo - 6-12 [Fiction]: Represents “Lilo” from “Lilo and Stitch,” symbolizing found family and resilience.

• Madeline - 6-10 [Fiction]: Represents a boarding school student.

• Rapunzel - [Fiction]: Represents a character given up by her parents.

Callie's Adoption and Friendship Subsystem

Callie’s experiences with adoption are explored through parts that reflect themes of identity formation and friendship within an adoptive context:

• Hannah S - [IRL]: Represents a friend introject who is also adopted, symbolizing shared experiences of adoption and identity search.

--- End.

[enzaelectric]

How to Choose the Right Door Limit Switch for Your Project

In the world of automation, safety, and mechanical design, door limit switches play a vital role in monitoring and controlling the position of doors, gates, and access panels. Whether you’re designing an industrial machine, an elevator system, or a home automation project, selecting the right limit switch ensures both safety and functionality.

As a trusted supplier of door limit switches and a full range of low voltage switchgear products, we aim to provide you with comprehensive guidance to help you select the ideal components for your specific needs.

This article provides a detailed guide on how to choose the best door limit switch for your project, highlighting the key factors, types, and applications you should consider.

What is a Door Limit Switch?

A door limit switch is an electromechanical device that detects the physical movement or position of a door. When the door reaches a certain position — fully open, fully closed, or somewhere in between — the switch activates or deactivates an electrical circuit.

These switches are commonly used in:

· Elevator doors

· Garage doors

· Industrial machines

· HVAC systems

· Automated gates

· Access control systems

Why Choosing the Right Limit Switch Matters

Choosing the correct limit switch is essential for:

· Safety: Preventing overtravel or mechanical failure.

· Accuracy: Ensuring the door is properly positioned before triggering other processes.

· Durability: Withstanding environmental stressors like dust, moisture, or extreme temperatures.

· Efficiency: Reducing maintenance and downtime in automated systems.

Key Factors to Consider When Selecting a Door Limit Switch

1. Type of Door Movement

The direction and nature of the door’s movement determine the kind of switch you need:

· Sliding doors: Require a linear actuator-type or proximity switch.

· Swinging doors: Benefit from lever or roller-type limit switches.

· Lift doors or panels: Often use plunger-type or magnetic limit switches.

2. Switch Type

There are several types of door limit switches. Choose based on precision, contact type, and actuation style.

Mechanical Limit Switches

· Actuated physically by the door.

· Types: Roller lever, plunger, or spring rod.

· Pros: Simple, cost-effective.

· Cons: Susceptible to wear and physical damage.

Proximity Switches

· Detect without direct contact (inductive, capacitive, or magnetic).

· Pros: Longer lifespan, sealed from contaminants.

· Cons: More expensive; may require specific mounting and alignment.

Magnetic Reed Switches

· Activated by a magnet attached to the door.

· Common in security systems.

· Pros: Compact, easy to install, no mechanical wear.

· Cons: Sensitive to magnetic interference.

3. Electrical Ratings

Match the switch with your system’s voltage and current requirements. Check for:

· Operating voltage (AC/DC)

· Load capacity (e.g., 5A @ 250V AC)

· Contact configuration (SPDT, DPDT, etc.)

4. Environmental Conditions

Evaluate the environment where the switch will operate:

· IP Rating: Ensure protection against dust and water (e.g., IP67 for outdoor use).

· Temperature Range: Some switches are rated for extreme temperatures.

· Chemical Resistance: For industrial or corrosive environments.

5. Mounting and Size Constraints

Ensure the switch can be securely mounted within the available space. Consider:

· Actuator travel distance

· Orientation (horizontal, vertical, angled)

· Cable or connector type

6. Durability and Life Cycle

Look for specifications like:

· Mechanical life (number of operations)

· Electrical life (switching durability under load)

Bonus Tips for Successful Implementation

· Test before finalizing: Always prototype with a few switches before bulk purchasing.

· Use protective enclosures: Especially in harsh environments.

· Add debounce circuitry: For systems sensitive to switch bounce.

· Ensure accessibility: Make the switch easy to access for maintenance or adjustments.

Your Trusted Partner in Low Voltage Switchgear

As a leading supplier of low voltage switchgear, we offer not only high-quality door limit switches, but also a wide variety of industrial components including:

· Power Transformers

· Panel Fan and Filter

· Current Transformers

· Analog and Digital Meters

· Relays and Timers

Conclusion

Choosing the right door limit switch is not just about picking a device that fits — it’s about ensuring long-term performance, safety, and compatibility with your overall system. By understanding the different types of switches, environmental requirements, and application-specific factors, you can confidently select the ideal switch for your project.

Whether you’re working on a DIY smart home upgrade or designing a robust industrial system, the right switch can make all the difference in functionality and reliability.