#creating that outward flow
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nylqnder · 18 days ago
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TRYING NOT TO, JACK HUGHES
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summary: the day before quinn and emmeline's wedding, you are sent on a last-minute road trip to fix a major emergency with quinn's infuriating younger brother, jack. what starts as a tension filled drive turns into something far more complicated as old grudges, misunderstandings, and an unexpected moment forces you to confront the past. with wedding chaos unfolding around you, you are forced to figure out whether your connection is just fleeting or something worth holding onto.
warnings: enemies to lovers, jack being a bit of a dick but so is the reader? fake fiancée/wife for quinn, a couple of uses of curse words, one or two mentions of alcohol
wc: 14.4k
notes: call me patrick swayze the way i'm coming back kids! holy shit genuinely the longest thing i've ever written but i really love it. i also love the fake character i've created in emmeline. she's perfect for quinn. hope y'all enjoy love you!!
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The scent of freshly cut grass hung in the warm summer air, clinging to the polished marble floors and driftwood beams of the yacht club’s grand lobby. You stood in the centre—clipboards, binders, and last-minute instructions spilling from your arms—as a flurry of staff moved around you, wrapping garlands of faux flowers around railings, and helping the last flow of guests get checked into their rooms. Outside, the water glittered under the late afternoon sun, serene and still—the exact opposite of your current mental state.
Tomorrow was the big day. Emmeline’s big day.
The thought alone made your heart clench—not in the way some girls felt about weddings, but because Emmeline was your person. Cousins by blood, but closer than sisters. You were both only children, raised more like twins than distant relatives. You knew the way she chewed her thumbnail when she was nervous, the breathy laugh she let out when she was trying not to cry, and how deeply—stubbornly—she loved Quinn Hughes, the man she was about to marry.
You were her maid of honor, and you would make this perfect. Even if it meant re-tying bows, wrangling both the flower girl and ring bearer who were both under the age of 6, and micromanaging every floral arrangement down to the angle of the damn tulips.
“These need to face outward,” you said, approaching the tall centrepiece being adjusted at the welcome table. “We want the blooms to greet people, not glare at the ceiling.”
You took over the flower-adjusting, angling the blooms towards the entryway. 
And that’s when you heard it—the low hum of a luxury engine. The kind that didn’t sputter or whine, but purred like it belonged.
You turned toward the wide front windows just in time to see a sleek black Range Rover pull up to the curved drive. Its glossy body caught the sunlight like a mirror. The back door swung open before the SUV had fully stopped, and out stepped Quinn—tall, lanky, dark; the total opposite of Emmeline, but maybe that’s what made them work so well.
You smiled instinctively. He was good for her. Kind in the quiet, steady way. The kind of man who held doors and remembered anniversaries without needing reminders. Emmeline was lucky.
But then another door opened.
And your heart dropped.
Out came Jack.
His suit bag was slung over one shoulder, dark blond curls windblown, sunglasses perched like a crown of arrogance atop his head. He looked taller than you remembered. Broader too.
The smile brought on by your cousins' fiancé quickly vanished at the sight of his brother.
Jack spotted you quickly, too, as the groomsmen climbed the marble entry steps. His eyes flicked over you with quick precision—clipboard, binder, pencil behind your ear, the purposeful way you stood like you owned the lobby. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the sight. Of course, you’d overtaken the planning. Of course, you were micromanaging every last detail. He was surprised, frankly, that you hadn’t demanded Quinn and his groomsmen be at the wedding venue at the same time as you were, instead of letting them spend the week at the family lakehouse as they had. 
You ignored the presence of the middle Hughes sibling, smiling at Quinn as he entered the lobby. “Hey groom,” you smiled, stepping forward. “Nervous yet, or just pretending not to be?”
Quinn grinned and walked in for a hug. “Only excited,” he said, pulling you in. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
When you pulled back, Jack was there too, lingering just behind him, sunglasses now hanging from the collar of his t-shirt. His eyes locked with yours. A smirk that nearly curled into a sneer tugged on his lips.
“Ma’am,” he said, mock saluting you.
You blinked. “Seriously?”
Quinn gave his brother a warning glance, but Jack simply let out a breathy laugh through his nose as he stepped past you. Jack’s shoulder just barely grazed yours, but it was enough to make your spine stiffen. He knew exactly what he was doing—calculated, casual, just irritating enough to make it seem accidental. You turned slightly, watching him saunter toward the welcome table and delicately graze one of the tulips you’d just adjusted, tipping the bloom back towards the ceiling. 
“Please,” you said coolly, “try not to mess anything up in the five minutes you’re here.”
Jack glanced over his shoulder with a crooked smile. “Jesus Christ, y/n, it’s the bride that’s supposed to be controlling, not the maid of honor.” 
You felt your teeth grind against one another, a slurry of evil words bubbling to the surface, before Quinn spoke up. “Guys, please,” he started, shifting uncomfortably beside you. “Can you not go at it all weekend?”
“I’m not ‘going at’ anything,” you said through gritted teeth, never taking your eyes off Jack. “I’m just asking him to stay out of the way.”
“Gonna be hard for the best man to stay out of the way.” Jack snorted. “Y’know you’re kind of taking the fun out of the whole weekend for me?”
You took a step forward, pointing the clipboard at Jack. “This weekend isn’t about you having fun, Jack. It’s about your brother and Emmeline. Try and remember that.”
His smile flickered just enough for you to catch it. “Trust me,” he said, voice dropping slightly, “no one’s forgetting who’s running the show.”
Quinn cleared his throat. “Okay. Great reunion, everyone. Can we maybe not start the weekend with a fight?”
Neither of you said anything, but the look Jack gave you was enough. It was a challenge—one he’d clearly enjoy stretching out over the next forty-eight hours. You could already picture it: sly comments during the rehearsal dinner, backhanded compliments during speeches, finding little ways to push your buttons every chance he got.
“Fine,” you said, stepping back and motioning toward the grand staircase. “Groomsmen are in the west wing, second floor. Your rooms are labeled. Try not to switch them around for fun.”
Jack winked. “You wound me.”
You didn’t answer. Just turned on your heel and walked away, jaw tight, footsteps sharp against the marble floor.
The wedding hadn’t even started, and already Jack was under your skin like a splinter, exactly where he wanted to be.
If you could have it your way, you would never have to see Jack this weekend. You would never see him for as long as you lived. 
It’s hard to believe there was a time when you couldn’t wait to meet Jack. 
That summer, two years ago now, felt like a dream. Emmeline had just hit the one-year mark of living with Quinn in Vancouver, and everything was suddenly moving fast. She was blissed out and in love, and when she invited you to join her at the Hughes’ lakehouse for a week in July, you said yes before she even finished asking. A week's vacation at a nice-ass lakehouse, doing nothing but lounging on the lake in the summer sun? There was no reason to say no.
You’d only ever seen Quinn’s brothers in tagged Instagram photos or in quick NHL highlights that Emmeline made you watch when she was tipsy and bragging. But still, you were curious. And nervous. You wanted to make a good impression. These were the people Emmeline was beginning to think of as family—and by extension, people who might one day be yours too.
The first day at the lakehouse was golden hour from beginning to end—long stretches of dockside lounging, frozen margaritas, casual games of spikeball that turned surprisingly competitive. And then Jack arrived.
He walked onto the deck barefoot, wearing swim trunks and a backward cap, his tan lines sharp, his grin easy. You remember exactly how your stomach flipped, the unbidden flutter. He had that kind of charisma that wasn’t loud but insistent, magnetic even when it didn’t try to be. And the worst part? He knew it.
Still, he was polite. Friendly, even. He offered to help carry your bag upstairs after dinner and held open the screen door without a word. There was something about the way he looked at you, too—assessing, a little smug, but interested. You caught him watching you during breakfast the next morning, the way his head tilted slightly when you laughed too hard at something Emmeline said. You thought, maybe. Maybe there was something there.
But then that afternoon, something changed.
You had just finished changing into the bikini you’d splurged on just for this trip, heading down to the dock to hopefully add to the nice tan you’d begun to develop. You froze at the door to the screened porch when you heard Quinn ask his brothers what they thought about Emmeline. They had glowing reviews. Of course they did, who wouldn’t absolutely love her? Then you heard Jack’s voice come through.
“Yeah, no, Emmeline’s great,” he said. “She’s chill. Fun. And she doesn’t make you feel like you’re five minutes late to a meeting she scheduled in her head.”
A pause. Someone snorted—probably Luke.
“I mean, her cousin’s cool too,” Jack added, like it was an afterthought. “Just... very on top of things. Like, I blink wrong and I feel like I’m getting silently judged for not folding my towel right.”
Another laugh. Jack spoke again.
“Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty. Smart, too. But I don’t know, man—she’s just trying too hard or something; trying too hard to prove herself. It’s a lake week, not a job interview.”
Quinn had muttered something you couldn’t hear—hopefully a weak defense—but Jack kept going.
“I mean, it’s not a shock she’s single. I couldn’t imagine dating something like that and lasting more than a week.”
Your stomach twisted before the words even finished leaving Jack’s mouth.
You stood frozen on the threshold of the porch, the screen door creaking slightly under your grip, but none of them noticed. They couldn’t see you—thank god. You weren’t sure what your face looked like in that moment, but it definitely wasn’t something you wanted them to witness.
The heat you’d been chasing for your tan rushed to your cheeks instead, a flush of embarrassment so sharp it made your skin prickle. Trying too hard? Your chest tightened like someone had cinched a belt around it, breath caught somewhere halfway between a gasp and a scoff. You’d spent the whole morning organizing breakfast cleanup because no one else seemed inclined to lift a finger. You’d brought extra sunscreen, made a shared playlist, and reminded Luke twice about reapplying after he had started turning a light shade of pink yesterday. You weren’t trying to prove yourself, at least, not consciously. You were just being helpful. Friendly. Yourself. But to Jack, it all came off as performative. Forced.
It stung. God, it burned. Not because it was the worst thing someone could say, but because it came from him—the one who’d made you laugh by the fire last night, who’d teased you about your marshmallow-toasting technique, who you’d maybe, maybe been starting to like. Just a little.
Now all you could feel was the sting of humiliation—and a rising, quiet fury behind it. You stepped back from the porch, as silently as you’d come. Let them sit there and laugh. Let Jack think whatever he wanted.
You didn’t confront him. You didn’t cry. You just stopped trying.
The rest of the week, you kept your distance. Jack seemed to notice the change, but if he cared, he didn’t say anything. The few times you did interact, it was cold. Cordial on the surface but laced with sarcasm. He’d ask if you were “running the guest itinerary” or if he needed to check in for breakfast. You’d fire back with biting commentary about him showing up late to dinners and vanishing before clean-up.
By the end of the trip, the two of you were locked in a kind of mutual disdain that no one else quite understood. Emmeline didn’t push it—she figured you’d both just gotten off on the wrong foot. Quinn mostly tried to pretend it didn’t exist.
But it never really went away. And now, two years later, you were standing in the middle of a wedding you were trying to keep perfect, while Jack Hughes was doing his best to derail your sanity one smug smirk at a time.
It would have been easier if he were just an asshole. But Jack wasn’t heartless—he was good with his brothers, made Emmeline laugh, and was now helping your aunt, Emmeline’s mom, carry her suitcase up the stairs to her room. 
That’s what made it worse.
Because somewhere beneath the friction and insults and eye rolls was the memory of a boy you almost liked.
And the gut-deep irritation of knowing he could have liked you too.
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Emmy
FIZZBOMB!!!!!!
When the text appeared on your phone screen, you raced out of the reception hall and towards the bridal suite. Fizzbomb was the code word invented by you and Emmeline when you were 10 and 11. It was meant to signify that one of you needed help; when you were 16 and at your first party, you texted fizzbomb to Emmeline because you had gotten too drunk to have one of your parents pick you up, so she came to get you. When Quinn was taking Emmeline out for an evening, and she was convinced that he was proposing, she texted you fizzbomb to help her get ready so she looked perfect in the proposal photos. 
You gave the door to the bridal suite a short knock, but realized that to be futile, considering the noise you could hear coming from within. When you walked into the suite, your jaw practically dropped. 
The room looked like a tornado had touched down somewhere between the vanity and the velvet chaise lounge. Dresses hung crooked on hangers. Makeup brushes littered the counter like fallen soldiers. And in the center of it all stood Emmeline—usually the picture of poise and Pinterest-worthy perfection—frantically digging through one of her matching polka dot suitcases.
“Oh my god,” she muttered, yanking out a matching lace lingerie set that was no doubt meant for the wedding night. The rollers in her hair had begun to come loose, her blonde hair just barely holding them in place. “No, no, no, no—this can’t be happening.”
You stood frozen in the doorway for a second too long before stepping into the chaos. “Hey… what’s going on?”
Emmeline’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, her eyes wide with panic.
“The rings!” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I can’t find the rings!”
Your stomach dropped. “Wait—what?”
“The wedding bands,” she clarified, as if you’d somehow misunderstood. She stumbled to her feet, stepping in front of you and placing her hands on your shoulders. “They’re not in the box. They’re not with the jewelry. I checked my bag, the dress bag, the bathroom—they’re not here.”
You blinked at her. “Okay. Okay, let’s just slow down for a second.” But she was already pacing, muttering under her breath, and clutching her wedding notebook that had every checklist, every to-do list, everything about the wedding handwritten in Emmeline’s perfect, loopy handwriting. “Where were they last? Where do you remember them being?”
“They were in the velvet box—Quinn’s grandma’s box—the one I put in the top drawer of my nightstand at the lake house so I wouldn’t forget them,” she said in a rush. “But then I packed everything, and I thought I brought them, but they’re not in my jewelry bag, they’re not in my makeup case, and I just tore apart my suitcases, but—” she flung out her arms helplessly “—they’re not here.”
You tried to stay calm for both of you. “Okay. Okay. So… maybe Quinn has them?”
Emmeline’s eyes lit up for a second. “Maybe! Maybe I gave them to him and just forgot, or—or he grabbed them before he left!”
Emmeline practically sprinted out of the room, with you hot on her heels. You dodged a floral arrangement, startling Quinn’s teammate and his girlfriend as you raced down the corridor to the grooms’ suite. Emmeline didn’t even knock—she burst through the door, breathless and wearing a worried look.
Quinn sat at the table, poker chips and cards scattered in front of him, surrounded by the rest of his groomsmen. His wide grin vanished when he spotted his fiancée in the doorway, crazy-haired and red-faced. 
Quinn dropped his hand of cards, standing and stepping over to Emmeline. “Emmy? Are you—”
“Do you have the rings?” she asked, voice tight with panic.
Quinn blinked. “Do I have the— No, I don’t have the rings, I thought you had them.”
Emmeline let out a strangled sound. “No, I thought I had them, but they’re not in any of my bags, and they’re not in my purse, and now I’m thinking… Quinn, I think I left them at the lake house.”
A few members of the bridal party—you not included as you genuinely felt like you couldn’t spend a week in the same house as Jack without murdering him—spent the week leading up to the wedding weekend at the Hughes family lake house for some R&R. Emmeline left a couple days early so she could get settled before the wedding and give her body time to relax.
He frowned. “You left a few days before me. I thought you grabbed them then?”
“I thought you grabbed them after me!”
“No, babe, you told me you were bringing them because you didn’t trust me not to lose them.”
You and Quinn locked eyes for a beat. He looked pale.
“They’re still at the lake house then,” he said flatly. “Three hours away.”
A thick silence settled over the room as the full weight of the situation landed on everyone. Then Emmeline let out a squeak of horror and dropped into the nearest armchair like a marionette who’d had her strings cut. Her wide green eyes began to well with tears. Quinn was at her side in seconds, taking her into her arms and offering her words of comfort. 
You looked between them—Emmeline curled into Quinn’s chest, trembling and teary-eyed, and Quinn rubbing her back with one hand while gripping his phone in the other.
Emmeline had planned this wedding down to a T, making sure every detail was perfect and in her control. She’d been dreaming of this day since she was a little girl. You’d seen the Pinterest board she made when she was sixteen—an elaborate collection of lace gowns, waterfront venues, color palettes in butter yellow and ivory, long banquet tables beneath canopies of string lights. Back then, it had seemed like a fantasy—a collage of someday. And now, somehow, it had all come to life. Every last inch of it.
This was her dream unfolding in real time. You weren’t about to let something like this ruin it.
“How far is the lake house from here?” you asked.
Quinn glanced up at you. “Three hours or so?” 
“Two hours and fifty-one minutes… with no traffic.” Jack supplied.
You turned and shot him a glare you hoped conveyed the exact amount of annoyance you felt. “Thank you, Google Maps.”
He just shrugged.
You turned back to Quinn and Emmeline. You thought for a second, then nodded. “I’ll go. I’ll drive to the lakehouse and get the rings.”
Emmeline jerked her head up, mascara already smudging under her eyes. “What?” she asked, sniffling. “You don’t have to—”
“It’s fine. It’s just a few hours. I know what the box looks like, you know you trust only me to go get them… And if I leave now, I’ll be back before the rehearsal dinner even starts,” you said it as calmly and confidently as you could, already pulling your phone from your pocket to check traffic.
Emmeline stood up from the chair and stepped in front of you, her laminated brows creasing together. “You are not driving six hours round-trip by yourself. That’s insane.”
“Emmy, I just flew to Detroit on my own three days ago,” you argued. “This is literally nothing compared to that. You don’t need to worry.”
“Honey, she’ll be fine,” Quinn interjected.
Emmeline shook her head, hands still fluttering like she couldn’t decide what to do with them. “That’s different. That was planned. This is—this is a panic trip,” she argued, sitting forward now. “You’ve barely slept, and I don’t want you white-knuckling it on some back road while I’m here trying not to throw up.”
You softened a little at her distress. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stop for coffee, I’ll blast your stupid pilates playlist that pumps you up, I’ll—”
“Take Jack,” she interrupted, as if it were obvious.
Your body went stiff. “Absolutely not.” 
“Why not?” she asked, blinking at your sudden tone.
“Because—” you struggled, flailing for a reason that didn’t sound as childish as it felt. “Because I can just go! I don’t need a babysitter.”
She narrowed her eyes, all bridezilla panic momentarily replaced by sisterly suspicion. “He’s the one who drove everyone down. He has the car. You don’t.”
That brought you up short. Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Still. There’s gotta be—”
“She’s right,” Quinn said reluctantly from Emmeline’s side, stroking her shoulder. “Jack’s the only one with a car that’s not rented or part of the shuttle fleet.”
“You’re all forgetting I can Uber to the lake house if I have to,” you said weakly.
Emmeline crossed her arms. “And you’re forgetting that I know you. You’ll pretend you’re fine but spend the entire time trying not to cry because you hate being alone in confined spaces with people you don’t know.”
You wanted to protest, but she was right. Of course, she was right. She was the one person who knew you inside out, back to front. Emmeline sat up straighter as you hesitated, a plan now forming in her head. “He’ll drive. You’ll ride. You can even nap if you want. I don’t care how it happens, I just care that someone brings the rings back before I walk down that aisle without them.”
Both you and Jack spoke at the same time:
“I’m not going with him.”
“I don’t wanna go with her.”
You blinked at each other. Jack looked like he wanted to vanish. You were pretty sure you wanted to as well.
Your eyes snapped towards Emmeline. Because, for the first time during her perfectly planned and executed wedding week, she yelled.
 “Oh, for the love of God! Can the two of you give up this stupid hatred you have for one another for one fucking second and do this for me!”
The room fell into a stunned silence. You stared at Emmeline, momentarily stunned into silence. She never yelled. Not like that. Not when her boss took credit for the proposal she’d spent three months perfecting. Not when she moved in with Quinn and they dropped her grandmother's piano down five steps. Not even when their neighbor's dog ran through their screen door for the fourth time and broke a vase that was a family heirloom. 
Jack shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly just as rattled. His mouth opened like he was going to argue back, but then he caught the look on Emmeline’s face—pleading, furious, and one exhale away from breaking completely.
You took a breath and looked at her, really looked at her. Her shoulders were tense, her lower lip trembling, and her hands were clenched tight around the arms of the chair like it was the only thing anchoring her to the floor. This wedding wasn’t just a party. It was the culmination of months of planning, color-coded spreadsheets, sleepless nights, and calls to vendors that always seemed to go to voicemail. It was her dream, carefully and lovingly constructed—her one shot at a perfect memory—and it was slipping.
And the rings? They weren’t just any rings. They were symbols. A legacy from Quinn’s grandmother. Heirlooms that had been handled with care and reverence. Leaving them behind had to feel like a betrayal of everything she’d worked for.
You exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping in surrender. “Fine,” you said. “I’ll go with Jack.”
Jack held up his hands. “I still haven’t agreed to this.”
You looked pointedly at him. “We’re going.”
Jack muttered something under his breath, but when you went to retort, you caught him watching Emmeline too, jaw tight, expression unreadable.
“Come on,” you said, brushing past him.
But before you made it two steps, Emmeline was on you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulders, burying her face in your neck. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice raw. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
You hugged her back, tighter than you intended. “It’s okay. You only yelled a little.”
“She definitely yelled a lot,” Jack said unhelpfully from the side.
You pulled away from Emmeline to glare at him. He held up his hands in surrender, but there was a flicker of a smirk at the corners of his mouth that made your stomach turn in the way it always did when he smiled.
Emmeline pulled you back to her. Her eyes were lined with tears, but looked slightly steadier than they had moments ago. You gently brushed away the tears that slipped down her cheek with your fingers. “We’ll be back. With the rings. I promise.”
She nodded, eyes still glinting with tears, but steadier now. “Drive safe. Don’t kill each other. And… thank you. Again.”
You nodded and turned to leave, Jack following a few steps behind.
As you walked down the hallway toward the exit, your steps echoing against the walls, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, taut and tense. Outside, the sun beat down on the parking lot like it had no idea the world was falling apart. Jack hit the unlock button, both of you moving toward the car in sync, climbing in with synchronized sighs.
The doors shut with a loud, heavy thud.
Jack started the engine and pulled out of the lot. “So…” he said, glancing sideways at you. “This is gonna be a blast.”
You slumped in your seat, arms crossed. “Just drive.”
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And drive Jack did—at mach fucking ten. “Jesus Christ, Jack, slow down!” you snapped, gripping the door handle like it might detach and fly off.
“I’m not even going ten over,” he said without looking at you, his knuckles white on the wheel.
“You took that last curve like we were in a Fast and Furious reboot.”
“We’re on a schedule,” Jack said pointedly. “In case you forgot, someone left the goddamn wedding rings three hours away.”
“That someone is about to be your sister-in-law,” you reminded him, shooting him a look. “And she’s also practically my sister, so you can shut the hell up about it.”
He exhaled through his nose. “Not blaming her. I’m just saying if we want to make it back before the rehearsal, maybe don’t bark at me every time I tap the gas.”
You muttered something under your breath that definitely wasn’t polite.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Nothing,” you lied.
A tense silence settled in the car again. The highway stretched in front of you like a never-ending punishment. The new Laney Wilson song came to an end on the radio, seamlessly transitioning into “Last Night” by Morgan Wallen. You groaned, reaching over to the touchscreen on the dashboard and switching the channel. 
“Woah, go back, I like that song,” Jack said, switching the channel back. 
“God, of course you do. That song literally makes my ears bleed,” you complained, switching the channel back again.
“It’s catchy,” Jack said, flicking it back on again.
“Jack, I swear to God—”
He raised his voice to drown you out. “I know that last night, we let the liquor talk—”
“Oh my God, you sound like a drunk raccoon,” you said, smacking the power button so hard the whole console beeped in protest. Silence filled the car again, save for your aggravated breathing.
Jack’s jaw ticked. “You always do this.”
“Do what? Have taste?”
He huffed, shaking his head. “No—this thing where everything I like suddenly sucks.”
“You like Last Night by Morgan Wallen. That’s not a personality trait, Jack.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry we can’t all be elevated enough to only listen to indie folk sung by sad men with acoustic guitars.”
“At least they write lyrics that aren’t pulled from a rhyming dictionary and a six-pack of Busch Light.”
Jack gripped the wheel tightly. “You know what? Fine. Let’s just sit here in silence, like two fuckin’ zombies, because that’s so much more fun.”
“Sounds perfect,” you said, turning to stare out the window.
A beat passed. Then another.
Jack reached for the console again.
You didn’t even look. “Don’t.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were. I can feel it.”
Jack let out a slow, theatrical sigh. “You are the most stubborn human being I’ve ever met.”
“Better than being tone-deaf with garbage taste.”
“Oh my God,” he muttered. “I hope they put your name on the wedding program next to ‘Honorary Music Snob’ so everyone’s prepared for the shit music the DJ’s gonna be forced to play.”
“I hope you trip walking down the aisle.”
“Well,” Jack said with a sharp smile, “you’ll be walking with me, so when I fall, I’m dragging you down with me.”
Thick silence fills the car, only broken by the surrounding sounds of traffic and rubber tires crunching on the asphalt. Jack didn’t dare touch the screen again out of fear of hearing your nagging voice jumping on his back about his music taste. Despite your mutual disdain for silence, you didn’t want to back down from the stance you’d taken, so you let the radio stay muted.
As if summoned by the bitter tension in the car, the GPS chirped with a sudden change in tone—a cheery, far-too-optimistic “Rerouting to avoid delay. Estimated arrival time: 2:37 PM.”
You frowned and leaned forward. “What now?”
Jack glanced at the screen and groaned. “There’s a wreck up ahead. Looks like it’s taking us off the main highway.”
You sighed, adjusting your seatbelt. “Great.”
“Relax, Debbie Downer, it’s only adding like, ten minutes to our time,” Jack said, motioning to the dash. “We’ll be back with time to spare.”
The new route snaked through what could only be described as the forgotten veins of America: cracked blacktop roads, lined with skeletal trees and rusted-out mailboxes. The scenery turned more rural by the second, old barns sagging in open fields, tractors parked like relics in yards, and roadside signs that hadn’t been updated since the Bush administration.
“Jesus, are we being lured to a second location?” you muttered.
Jack scoffed. “Calm down. GPS knows what it’s doing.”
You eyed the pothole he narrowly missed. “Does it? Because this looks like a place where horror movies start.”
He didn’t respond—probably because the next bump hit hard enough to rattle your teeth. You gripped the armrest, casting a sidelong glance at him.
“Maybe slow down, Lewis Hamilton. This car is not built for off-roading.”
“I’m going thirty,” he snapped, but eased off the gas anyway. A silence stretched between you again, frayed and worn thin.
Then came the sound you never want to hear on a deserted back road: a loud popping noise, followed by rattling and the sound of rubber dragging across the pavement.
Jack cursed under his breath, pulling over to the gravel shoulder in front of the only landmark for miles—a faded, crooked sign that read “Ace’s Diner” in chipping red paint. 
Jack killed the engine and stepped out with a grunt. You followed, shielding your eyes from the late-afternoon sun. Sure enough, the front left tire was completely absolved from air.
“God fucking dammit.” Jack cursed, tugging a hand through his dark blond curls.
“Please tell me you know how to change a tire?” you said hopefully.
“Oh, I can change a tire,” Jack said. Your brows raised in hope, posture straightening as you realized you might not be screwed. “But I don’t have a spare.”
Your hopes immediately deflated, a deep groan escaping your lips as you looked up at the blue Michigan sky. 
“I’ll call Triple-A.” Jack sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and strolling down the shoulder.
You reached into the rolled-down window, grabbing your sunglasses from the cupholder. The mid-July sun beat down on your exposed shoulders, sweat immediately beginning to seep out of your skin. 
Jack came back a few minutes later, shoving his phone into his shorts pocket, the set of his jaw doing all the talking.
“They said it’ll be at least an hour,” he said grimly. “Maybe longer if the guy has to come from the next town over.”
You let out an incredulous laugh. “An hour? In this heat?”
Jack shrugged, wiping the back of his wrist against his damp brow. You shifted your weight onto one hip, arms crossed. “I can’t stand in the sun for an hour, Jack. I’ll melt.”
Jack snorted, one eyebrow climbing. “Oh, come on. You can’t stand in the sun for an hour? You? The same girl who laid out on the dock at the lakehouse for eight hours straight with Emmy, looking like you were auditioning to be a rotisserie chicken?”
“That was different,” you said defensively. “That was controlled sun. Lakehouse sun. With SPF and an umbrella and a Yeti cup full of ice water.”
“This is sun,” Jack said, arms spread toward the wide, blinding expanse of sky. “It’s literally the same sun.”
“No. This is hellfire, death-ray sun,” you argued, pointing to the shimmering heat rising off the road like something out of a cartoon. “And we’re in the middle of nowhere without an ounce of breeze, a speck of shade, or even a goddamn iced coffee to our names.”
You spun on your heel, fanning yourself with your hands. The rundown diner came into your eyeline. The place looked like it hadn’t seen a health inspection since the early ’90s, but it was standing—and hopefully air-conditioned.
You turned back to Jack. “Let’s go in.”
Jack made a face like you’d suggested swimming in a septic tank. “What? No. That place looks like it serves food that’ll give us tetanus.”
“Then don’t eat,” you said, already walking backwards toward the door. “You can roast out here with your flat tire and heat stroke while I sit in air-conditioning and order greasy diner food. Your call.”
Jack looked from the car to you, eyes narrowing like he was weighing whether stubbornness was worth dehydration. You could practically hear the gears grinding.
You pulled the sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, looking at him over the top. “Coming?”
With a long-suffering sigh and a muttered curse, Jack slammed the car door shut and trudged toward you.
A little brass bell jingled as you stepped inside, immediately hit with the blessed wave of cold air. You nearly moaned.
“Thank God,” you whispered, pausing under the vent like a plant soaking up rain.
Jack stood beside you, arms crossed, squinting around at the outdated booths and laminated menus resting on sticky tables. “You realize this place is 100% haunted,” he muttered.
You ignored him, heading toward the bar top and perching on one of the cracked vinyl stools. The seat let out a dramatic creak under your weight. Jack reluctantly took the one next to you, eyeing it like it might collapse.
“If a ghost wants to serve me fries and a Diet Coke, I say let him,” you said, grabbing a menu that was wedged between two ketchup bottles.
A woman in her forties shoved through the swinging kitchen doors wearing a waitress uniform that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 50s, her nametag reading Tanya. She looked you both up and down like you were intruders in her soap opera rerun.
“Is that your fancy black car out there with the flat?” she asked.
Jack nodded.
“Well, you’ve probably got an hour or two before AAA gets out here if you called ‘em,” Tanya said knowingly. “Y’all ordering or is it just ice water and complaints?”
You grinned. “No, we’ll order, just give us a sec.”
Tanya shuffled off, back into the kitchen. “If I die from eating a burger in this place, I’m haunting you,” Jack said as soon as she was out of earshot.
You nudged his shin with your sandal under the counter. “Perfect. Then I can blame the ghost every time someone plays Morgan Wallen.”
Jack groaned, resting his elbows on the countertop and bowing his head in his hands. “You’re insufferable.”
You smirked. “And yet, you followed me inside.”
He tilted his head towards you. “Only because you’re slightly less unbearable than a heatstroke.”
“Aw,” you said, fluttering your lashes. “You always know how to make a girl feel special.”
Jack just shook his head, but there was the faintest curve of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jack was quiet for a minute, pretending to read the laminated menu like it held the secrets of the universe. You let the silence linger, amused by the fact that it was the first time in hours it didn’t feel tense—just tired, maybe. A little heat stroked. But not tense.
“So,” he said, voice casual in a way that meant it wasn’t casual at all, “no date to the wedding?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“The wedding,” he repeated, like you were slow. “Emmy and Q’s. You flying solo, or did you finally cave and bring someone to shut your mom up?”
You raised an eyebrow, leaning back. “Why do you care?”
Jack shrugged, mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile. “Morbid curiosity.”
“No date,” you said after a pause, fiddling with the edge of your straw wrapper. “I was seeing this guy, but turns out he was cheating on me with one of his coworkers.”
Jack winced. “That fucking sucks.”
“Yeah…” you sighed. “What about you?”
“What about me?” he said, eyes still glued to the menu.
“You here alone? Or is there a secret girlfriend stashed away somewhere?”
Jack gave a low chuckle, finally looking towards you. “No secret girlfriend.”
You tilted your head. “Really? Mr. Big Shot Hockey Prodigy can’t find a date for a wedding?”
Jack shrugged again, and this time, it wasn’t deflection—it was something closer to resignation. “Hockey’s kind of… all-consuming. There’s always something. Practice, travel, games, off-season training. Even when I’m not on the ice, I’m thinking about being back on it.”
You narrowed your eyes. “So you’re saying hockey’s the reason you’re single.”
He looked at you evenly. “It’s the truth.”
You hummed. “I don’t know. That feels like a cop-out. Like yeah, you’re busy, but you could make it work if you actually wanted to.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”
“I know so,” you said. “There are surgeons with soulmates. Firefighters with families. Astronauts who FaceTime their wives from space. You can’t tell me a guy with a bus schedule and meal prep can’t send a text back or plan a date.”
He looked at you for a long moment, the weight of the conversation hanging somewhere between sarcastic banter and something heavier, unspoken.
“That’s fair,” he said eventually, his voice quieter.
You blinked. “Wait—did Jack Hughes just admit I was right about something?”
“I said it was fair,” he clarified, lips twitching. “Let’s not get carried away.”
Tanya returned with two glasses of water and a pen tucked behind her ear. “Y’all ready?”
You both glanced at each other. Jack gestured for you to go first, and you ordered your burger and fries. He ordered the same, begrudgingly.
Tanya shuffled off again, disappearing behind the swinging kitchen doors with a tired sigh. In the meantime, you and Jack filled the silence with light conversation—mostly about how the Yankees' season was going, the weird decor of the diner, and the fact that the ketchup in front of the two of you was nearly empty. It wasn’t anything deep, but it passed the time. A couple of minutes later, Tanya reappeared, balancing two steaming plates on her arms and wearing a faint smile as she slid your burgers in front of you with a practiced motion, plates clinking softly against the bar.
You barely waited for Tanya to step away before picking up your burger, the smell alone making your stomach twist in anticipation. The first bite was everything—greasy, savory, perfectly charred—and you practically melted into the booth as you chewed. A soft, involuntary sound escaped your throat, somewhere between a sigh and a moan.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, hand already reaching for another bite. “I haven’t eaten since like… eight this morning. This is the best decision I’ve made all week.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of his own. For a second, he looked like he was ready to make a joke, but then his expression shifted. He chewed slowly, then nodded, a little surprised. “Okay… okay, I judged too fast. This is actually a really good burger.”
You gave him a smug look, mouth still full. “Told you.”
You both fell into a quiet rhythm again, focused on your food. The diner buzzed faintly around you—Tanya clattering dishes behind the counter, a weathered radio playing old country tunes, the hum of a fan in the corner barely cutting the heat.
Jack made quick work of his burger, leaving behind nothing but a smear of ketchup and a few lonely pickles. He picked at his fries next, choosing only the crispest ones to eat with a level of scrutiny that bordered on obsessive.
You were halfway through your own plate when he finally spoke again, dragging the words out like he was picking them carefully.
“So,” he said slowly, “how’s maid of honour world domination going?”
You narrowed your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He gave an exaggerated shrug, but you could see the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth again. “Just saying… Emmy’s color-coded itinerary didn’t exactly scream laid-back vibes. I figured it had your fingerprints all over it. Or your iron grip.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were grinning. “Okay, first of all, that itinerary was a joint effort. And second, yes—I am organized. It’s called being helpful.”
“Sure,” Jack said, drawing out the word like he was humoring you. “Helpful. Some might say a little type A. Maybe even… controlling?”
“Alright, I am type A. I like schedules. I make lists. I have opinions about font hierarchy. But at least I’m not emotionally stunted and allergic to the words ‘let’s communicate.’”
Jack blinked, caught between a snort and a look of offense. “Ouch.”
But you weren’t laughing now. Because the word—controlling—had hit something, knocked a memory loose. And suddenly you were back at the lakehouse, standing just out of sight in the hallway. 
Now, you shifted on your stool and stared at the condensation sliding down your own water glass. “You know,” you said quietly, “you’ve actually called me that before.”
Jack tilted his head, eyebrows pinching slightly. “What?”
“Controlling. Intense.” You met his eyes. “That’s what you said the first time we met—at the lake house. The second morning, you were on the porch with Luke and Quinn. You made jokes about me being controlling. Then you said you thought I was trying too hard, and it was no wonder I was single—because you couldn’t imagine being with something like me for more than a week.”
He was quiet for a beat. The lightness from earlier seemed to vanish from his face like someone had flicked off a switch as the memory of his words flooded back into his head. “Wait—what? I—hold on.” He set his glass down a little too hard. “You heard that?”
You nodded, keeping your expression steady even though your chest felt like it was slowly folding in on itself.
Jack ran a hand through his hair and sat back. “Shit. I didn’t… I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I swear.”
“But you said it.”
“I—yeah. I did. And I was being an asshole.” He paused. “Honestly, I don’t even remember the context. But I wasn’t trying to be cruel. I was probably just—” He exhaled. “Trying to seem clever. Or funny. Or… I don’t know. Cool, maybe?”
You arched a brow. “By casually trashing me?”
He winced. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.” He looked at you again, earnest now, no trace of the smirking, water-sipping version of him from five minutes ago. “You being the way you are? That’s not a flaw. That itinerary? It was kind of genius, if I’m being honest. Emmy would’ve had a panic attack without it.”
You stared at him for a second, unsure of what to say. The memory of that night had haunted you more than you’d let on. You weren’t even sure why it had mattered so much. But now that it was out, it felt… strange. Lighter, maybe.
“You really don’t remember saying it?” you asked, voice softer this time.
“I remember being a coward about things,” Jack said. “And saying dumb stuff because I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that you—” He stopped himself. His jaw flexed, like he was debating how much to give away. “You threw me off,” he finished, quieter.
Your heart did that annoying fluttery thing you’ve been trying to ignore since you’d met the green-eyed boy in front of you.
You looked at him for a long moment, the edges of your hurt softening into something quieter, more complicated. Maybe it was the way he wasn’t meeting your eyes now, or how his voice had lost all that practiced charm. Or maybe it was just the fact that he’d actually said sorry, which you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him before.
Still, you swallowed, the next words catching in your throat before you forced them out.
“I guess I should apologize, too.”
Jack blinked. “For what?”
“For the way I acted. After I heard what you said. I could’ve talked to you. I could’ve… I don’t know, given you a chance to explain. But instead, I went full scorched-earth. Cold shoulder. Eye-rolls. Passive aggression.” You gave a weak, self-deprecating smile. “I took the hostile route because it felt easier than admitting I was hurt.”
His expression shifted—some mix of understanding and regret. “You had every right to be hurt.”
“Maybe. But I didn’t exactly take the high road either.”
A quiet beat passed between you, thick with the strange, tentative weight of two people trying to untangle a knot that had been there too long.
Jack shifted on his stool, his knee brushing yours briefly as he leaned a little closer. When he spoke again, his voice had gone softer. “For what it’s worth… I’m glad we’re not just pretending we don’t know each other anymore.”
You gave a tiny nod, then dropped your gaze to your glass. The condensation had pooled into a perfect ring on the bar top beneath it. Your hand, still resting near the glass, felt strangely aware of the few inches that now separated it from his.
“Me too,” you said.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The noise from the kitchen filtered in—clattering pans, muffled laughter—but it all felt far away. You looked over at him again and found him already watching you. There was nothing smug in it. Just quiet, steady warmth.
“You still think I’m trying too hard?” you asked, voice light but curious.
Jack’s mouth tilted into a lopsided smile. “No,” he said. “I think you care. About things. About people. And sometimes that looks like trying hard. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing anymore.”
Your chest tightened at that, in the good way. The scary way. You hadn’t even realized you’d leaned in slightly, drawn by the low, honest rhythm of his voice. Neither of you pulled back.
A long pause, and then:
“You still think I’m emotionally stunted?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
You gave him a look. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
A beat of laughter lingers between you, softer this time—real. The kind that crinkles the corners of your eyes and tugs something loose in your chest. You're both still leaning in slightly, like neither of you noticed how close you've gotten until now. His knee brushes yours again, deliberately this time, and your breath catches—not because of the touch itself, but because he doesn’t pull away.
You look at him. Really look. His green eyes, usually so guarded or teasing, are uncharacteristically open, searching yours with something uncertain but sincere. There's no smirk. No deflection. Just Jack, raw in a way you’re not used to seeing him.
And then, without thinking, or maybe because you've both been thinking about it for far too long, you kiss him. Or Jack kissed you. Either way, your lips met halfway, soft and hesitant.
It’s tentative at first, like both of you are breaking a rule and you’re scared you’re about to be caught. But he answers with the way his hand lightly brushes your cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of your jaw. The kiss deepens for just a breath, soft, sweet, startling in its gentleness.
When you pull back, your heart is doing that fluttery, annoying thing again, wild against your ribs like it’s trying to make sure you can’t ignore it this time. For a beat, you both just stared at each other, wide-eyed and wordless.
Your mind scrambled to process the moment—what had just happened, what it meant. Your mouth opened, then closed again. Jack blinked, color rising fast into his cheeks as he suddenly stood, too fast, knocking his stool back a few inches.
“I’m, uh—I’m gonna check on AAA. See how far they are,” he says quickly, already halfway toward the door like physical distance might buffer the emotional whiplash.
Before you could respond, he was out the door, the bell overhead jangling in his wake.
The silence he left behind was deafening.
You sat there, staring at the door for a long moment. Your fingers brushed your lips, still warm. What the hell just happened?
You leaned forward, elbows planting on the countertop, as if your middle fingers massaging your temples were going to help you organize your thoughts. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. You’d spent years hating Jack, despising him. But now…
Your heart fluttered in your chest.
You glanced out the window. Jack was standing a few feet from the car, pacing in small circles, phone to his ear. Even from here, you could see how flustered he was. His free hand kept running through his hair, and he looked like he was thinking too hard.
You didn’t speak when he came back inside, and he didn’t either. The air was tight, stretched thin with everything unsaid. But your eyes met for a second—just one—and it was enough to make your stomach flip. You didn’t speak when Tanya left the bill in front of you, or when Jack wordlessly gave her his card and covered both your meals. 
The AAA guy arrived less than ten minutes later, equipped with a spare tire. Jack stood silently beside the car, hands shoved in his pockets, posture tight with something he didn’t want to name. You hung back near the diner door, arms crossed, fingers grazing your lips now and then as if trying to erase—or remember—the feel of his mouth on yours.
Neither of you said anything as the tire was changed. The mechanic made a few comments about the summer heat bearing down on the day. The air smelled faintly of rubber and asphalt as the AAA guy gave a final tug on the new tire. Jack nodded, muttered a thank you, and barely waited for the man to pack up before sliding into the driver's seat again. You followed without a word, tugging your seatbelt across your chest with fingers that still felt a little too aware, a little too shaky.
He started the car. The engine roared softly to life. Neither of you said anything.
Outside, the sky was dipped in late afternoon gold, the edges of the clouds glowing orange where the sun caught them. Jack kept his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel, but you noticed the tension in his jaw. The way his thumb tapped an erratic beat against the steering wheel. The way he blinked just a little too long at stop signs. Like he was stuck in his own head.
You weren’t doing much better. You watched the trees blur past your window and tried to breathe normally, tried to ignore the phantom sensation of his lips on yours.
You didn’t know what the kiss meant. You didn’t know what he thought it meant. Maybe it had been a moment—a blip. A mistake. Or maybe…
The lakehouse came into view faster than you expected. Familiar and quiet, nestled between tall trees and wrapped in a fading light that made the windows glow. Jack pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. Your seatbelt was already coming off before the doors were unlocked.
“I’ll grab the rings. I won’t be long.”
Jack nodded once, still not looking at you. You opened the door and stepped out, sandals crunching on gravel, the door thudding closed behind you.
As soon as you were gone, Jack let out a slow breath, dropping his head back against the headrest. The sound echoed faintly in the quiet of the car, the only accompaniment the ticking of the engine cooling down and the occasional rustle of wind through pine.
He closed his eyes.
“What the hell did I just do…” he muttered aloud, voice barely above a whisper.
His fingers scrubbed over his face. The kiss hadn’t been planned—it had just… happened. Or maybe it hadn’t just happened. Maybe it had been building for a long time, and neither of you had wanted to admit it.
He let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Smooth move, asshole.”
Because now he didn’t know what was worse: the kiss itself or the uncertainty in your eyes afterward. He’d thought you kissed him back. Thought. But what if he misread it? What if it had been hesitation, not reciprocation? What if the heat in your eyes hadn’t been longing, but confusion?
Or worse—pity.
He cursed under his breath, palms flattening against the steering wheel like he could squeeze the truth out of it. “God, did I screw this up already? We were just starting to not hate each other.”
He could still feel it, though—your lips soft against his, your breath catching just a little. That startled sound you made, not pulling away. Your fingers twitching, like maybe you’d wanted to touch him and didn’t.
He sat there, trapped in that overthinking spiral, the memory of the kiss looping in his brain like a song stuck on repeat. He could still taste the moment, the gentleness of it. The way his heart had slammed against his ribs like he was back on the ice for his first game.
And now, everything felt unsteady. Not just between you, but inside him. Because this wasn’t some casual crush. It hadn’t felt light or meaningless. It had felt real. And that terrified him more than he wanted to admit.
Jack’s spiral of thoughts was snapped when the car door swung open, and you hopped in. He spotted the small white bag containing the ring boxes in your hand. Jack sat up straighter automatically, trying to school his expression into something neutral.
He failed.
You didn’t say anything right away, just slipped back into the seat beside him and clipped your seatbelt. But your gaze drifted to him, lingering on his profile.
Jack caught it, eyes flicking over. For a second, it felt like you might say something. Ask. Acknowledge. Clarify.
But you didn’t.
And neither did he.
Instead, he started the engine again. The soft purr filled the space between you, and the silence settled in once more.
The drive back to the wedding venue was quieter than any you’d shared before—and that was saying something, considering how often you two fell into mutual, petty silence after an argument. But this wasn’t angry silence. It was… something else. Heavy and tense, full of sharp edges and delicate threads, you were both too afraid to touch.
The radio played on, and when another Morgan Wallen song came on, you didn’t even reach to change it. Jack didn’t tease you for your exaggerated sigh the way he normally would. He didn’t even glance your way. He just stared straight ahead, one hand gripping the wheel, the other limp in his lap, fingers twitching now and then like he was thinking of saying something and couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.
You stared out the window, watching as the trees blurred into a green smear. Your hands were folded in your lap, nails digging into your own skin. You hated silence like this—not angry, not cold, just... uncertain.
You could still feel the kiss. Not just the press of lips, but the weight of it. The intent. The way Jack’s thumb had grazed the edge of your jaw, featherlight, reverent.
Your heart did that annoying flutter again just thinking about it. You clenched your jaw, forced yourself to exhale slowly through your nose. You’d spent years hating Jack. And now this?
By the time you pulled into the venue’s gravel lot, the sun had sunk low enough to cast long shadows across the property. The rehearsal dinner had already begun; you could hear music and laughter drifting through the open doors. String lights glowed like fireflies overhead, and the scent of roasted vegetables and grilled steak lingered faintly on the warm air.
Jack cut the engine, but neither of you moved right away. The silence remained, thick and taut, stretching like a rubber band on the verge of snapping.
You opened the door first. The sound startled both of you slightly—proof of how deep in your own heads you’d been. Jack followed suit, and you stepped out together, though the space between you felt far wider than the physical few feet.
Emmeline and Quinn were already standing near the back doors of the venue, Emmeline shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand, Quinn lifting a hand in a half-wave. Relief crossed Emmeline’s face when she spotted you both.
“There you are!” she called out, walking toward you. “God, Q and I were so worried.”
“We had a flat,” you offered, holding up the small white bag with the ring boxes tucked safely inside. “All good now.”
Quinn nodded, walking up behind Emmeline. “Damn. You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” Jack said, voice low and even. He didn't meet their eyes.
You passed the bag to Emmeline, whose smile faltered just slightly as her eyes darted between the two of you. Her brow knitted ever so subtly. You could see the question forming behind her eyes—What happened?
But she didn’t ask. Maybe she could tell it wasn’t something either of you was ready to say aloud.
Instead, she simply said, “Glad you made it,” and squeezed your hand once before stepping back.
Quinn clapped Jack on the back. “Dinner’s basically done, but the bar’s still open. Both of you look like you could use a drink.”
You nodded numbly and followed them up the steps into the venue, Jack a pace behind. You and Jack split off the moment you walked in. Not obviously, but instinctively—like two magnets flipped the wrong way. You busied yourself with the wedding coordinator, nodding along as she listed off timing and music cues. Jack drifted to the groomsmen, feigning engagement in some joke Josh was telling.
Once or twice, your eyes met across the space. You spotted him across the room, talking to your parents, likely meeting them for the first time, when his gaze flicked to you. In a heartbeat, everything that had happened in the diner came rushing back like a flash flood.
You looked away first.
You finally got hold of Emmeline, stealing a quiet moment together while the chaos of the wedding loomed just beyond. You sat at an empty table, sipping a gin & tonic, listening to her fuss over the final seating chart.
“I swear, if Aunt Delia asks to be moved one more time, I’m putting her at the kids’ table.”
You laughed softly, but your eyes drifted again to Jack, who was leaning against one of the deck railings, talking with Quinn. He laughed at something Quinn said, the curve of his smile familiar and so Jack it hurt.
But it was different now. You felt different now. The kiss had carved something open between you, and now every glance, every breath felt like a balancing act on a wire you didn’t remember agreeing to walk.
Emmeline’s gaze followed yours and, again, you saw that flicker of understanding in her eyes. But she didn’t press. Instead, she leaned closer and murmured, “What the hell happened between you and Jack?”
You blinked, then nodded too quickly. “Nothing, nothing. Just a long day.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, looping her arm through yours. “Come with me. We’re doing a shot for the bride.”
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆
The bright early morning sun seeped through the sheer curtains, casting a peaceful glow on the hotel room. You groaned as you sat upright, stretching out the soreness that settled deep in your bones.
You hadn't slept much. Maybe a couple of hours, tops. And not for lack of trying. You tried to listen to music and white noise. But the moment your head would get quiet, he would come back. Jack. The kiss.
It played on loop in your mind—soft lighting, heart beating loud in your chest, his hand on your cheek, the surprised look in his eyes when it was over. Then that awful silence in the car. The Morgan Wallen song. The one you hate. And how you didn’t even complain.
But this morning? This morning is… beautiful. Unfairly so. The kind of morning that feels like it’s been curated just for a wedding: sun filtering through gauzy curtains, birds chirping obnoxiously in the trees outside your window, the breeze lifting your hair when you crack the glass open. It smells like lilacs and cut grass.
You glance at your phone. 7:13 a.m. You’re needed in the lobby by eight to help with last-minute decorations, and Emmeline has already texted twice with a bubbly sort of nervousness that makes you smile despite yourself.
The moment your feet hit the floor, though, something settles inside you—a steadiness. This isn’t your wedding. It’s Emmeline’s. She deserves your best today. Whatever happened between you and Jack last night…it can wait. You can compartmentalize. You’re excellent at compartmentalizing.
You don’t even bother to change out of the satin pyjama set that Emmeline had bought for all the bridesmaids, heading down to the lobby, where a quiet hum of activity already buzzes. String lights are being tested, chairs straightened, and a staff member consults a clipboard like it’s the Bible.
The scent hits you first—sweet, heady, unmistakable. Roses, eucalyptus, and something else more potent, weaving through the air.
You turn just as the florist breezes through the lobby doors, arms full of bouquets wrapped in tissue and satin ribbon. She’s balancing a second tray on her hip, trying not to jostle the carefully arranged blooms.
“Hi!” she calls with a polite smile, breathless but bright-eyed. “Delivery for Emmeline Scott—bride and bridesmaids' bouquets?”
“That’s me—well, not the bride, obviously.” You offer a sheepish smile as you step forward to help, brushing your hair behind one ear. “I can take some of those.”
The florist starts to hand off the top bouquet when—
“Wait! Don’t touch those!”
You freeze, arm midair.
The shout echoes too loudly across the pristine lobby, startling both you and the florist. Heads turn. Your heart stutters as you spin toward the sound of it.
Jack is coming down the staircase two steps at a time, hair still wet from a shower, shirt rumpled like he threw it on without looking. There’s a small, frantic crease between his brows, and he’s got that look—somewhere between alarmed and furious.
You blink, momentarily stunned by his urgency—and, okay, the fact that he looks like a walking disaster in the most distracting way.
“You can’t touch those,” he says again, voice lower now as he reaches you, a little out of breath. “They’ve got lilies in them.”
You frown, confused. “What—?”
He gestures to the bouquet still hovering in the florist’s arms. “Right there—see?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, just steps forward and lightly turns the arrangement so the offending flowers are front and center. “You’re allergic. Seriously allergic.”
It takes a beat for that to register, because you are. It’s a mild reaction for most, but for you, even the scent can trigger a chain reaction that could land you in the hospital. Your throat tightens at the realization, not from the allergy, but from the thought: he remembered.
You’re about to say something when Jack rounds on the delivery driver with an edge to his voice. “You were told no lilies. Someone could’ve died.”
The poor driver stammers, clearly taken aback. “I—I just picked up the order—”
“It’s not your fault,” you cut in quickly, reaching for Jack’s arm. “Hey. Seriously. It’s okay. I didn’t touch them.”
But Jack doesn’t look at you right away. His jaw’s tight, the muscle there ticking. “You could’ve, though.”
You gently tug his arm, grounding him. “I didn’t.”
That does it. He exhales, finally turning to look at you. There’s something intense in his expression, something you don’t know what to do with—like he’s still coming down from the idea of you in an ambulance instead of here, in pyjamas and bare feet, in the middle of a sunlit lobby.
He rubs a hand over his face. “I’ll get it sorted. Give me five minutes.”
Before you can argue, he’s already pulling out his phone and walking away, dialing as he goes.
You try not to stare at him. It’s hard not to. You’re still trying to get used to this version of Jack. The one who kissed you. The one who looks at you a second too long. The one who, apparently, now knows the ingredients in a bouquet well enough to spot allergens from across a lobby. You didn’t even know he knew about your allergy.
You glance back at the florist, who mouths a silent sorry, and you wave it off with a grateful half-smile. “Don’t worry. Crisis averted.”
A few minutes later, Jack reappears, phone still in hand, hair wind-tousled from stepping out into the breeze.
“They’re sending replacements,” he says, a little gruff. “No lilies. They’ll be here in forty-five minutes.”
You blink. “You convinced them to redo everything?”
“Yeah,” he huffed, barely looking at you. “I mean, we wouldn’t want you to go into anaphylactic shock mid-aisle.”
Then, without giving you a second to respond, he turns on his heel and walks off.
You stare after him, heart annoyingly out of rhythm again.
Not because of the lilies.
But because he remembered.
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆
The air in the bridal suite was filled with Emmeline’s favourite songs and hairspray, the chatter between bridesmaids and stylists filling the space. The floor was a flurry of fabric and half-sipped mimosas, with Emmeline perched in an armchair, wrapped in a white robe embroidered with bride in cursive across the back. Her smile was tight with nerves, hands clasped in her lap as one of the makeup artists prepped her skin.
You were seated nearby, sipping orange juice through a glass straw, your robe slightly slipping off one shoulder. A gentle buzz of anticipation vibrated in your bones—wedding mornings had a strange kind of magic, and this one, Emmeline’s, felt especially charmed.
Then came the knock. A quiet, polite tap against the wooden door, followed by the sound of it creaking open.
Jack’s head appeared in the gap, tousled hair and a sheepish grin giving him away immediately. Your pulse spiked at the sight of him—part nerves, part something else that you hadn’t quite named yet. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on you and your hair wrapped up in large rollers. 
“Hey,” he said, voice low so as not to disrupt the calm. “Can I borrow you for a second?”
You stood instinctively, brows pulling together. “Is everything okay?”
Emmeline’s eyes widened in the mirror. “Wait—why? Is something wrong?”
Jack stepped fully into the room, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “No, no. Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak anyone out.” He looked at Emmeline. “I just need her help with the flower girl real quick. Nerves or shoes or… something.”
Emmeline blinked at Jack through the reflection. “Okay, just uh—you’re supposed to be next to get your makeup done,” she said to you.
You turned to Emmeline, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Your mom can start getting her makeup done now—I'll be back before it’s your turn.”
Emmeline blinked. “Okay. But if anything is wrong—”
“It’s not,” Jack promised, already backing into the hallway. “Scout’s honor.”
You slipped out with him, tugging the sash of your robe tighter as the door closed behind you. The corridor was quieter than you expected, the kind of hush reserved for churches and very big moments. You glanced at Jack. His pace quickened.
“She’s not having a meltdown over flower petals, is she?”
He blew out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no flower girl issue. That was a lie.”
You stopped. “Jack.”
“I panicked,” he muttered. “It was the first thing that came to mind. But it’s Quinn. He’s freaking out. Like… real bad.”
“Why?”
Jack looked over, his brows drawing together. “He lost his vows.”
You stared at him. “His vows?”
“The handwritten ones. Only copy. He wrote them in a little notebook because he said typing felt ‘insincere,’ and now he can’t find them.”
“Oh my god.”
“Exactly.”
You both picked up your pace.
By the time you reached the groomsmen’s suite, the energy was starkly different from the bridal calm—music was off, ties were untied, and Quinn was pacing like he was trying to wear a hole through the floor. His hair wasn’t done, and he was muttering to himself, half-dressed in a white button-down and socks.
“Hey,” Jack said gently. “I brought reinforcements.”
Quinn turned, eyes wide. “I checked everywhere. I had them last night. I remember practicing. I had this whole thing about the lake—about how we met—and now I can’t even remember what I wrote. I feel sick.”
You crossed to him, putting a hand on his arm. “We’ll find them. Okay? Let’s retrace your steps. Where were you when you last saw them?”
He swallowed. “I was in Jack’s room… then he went to bed, so I left. Then I think I took them to the kitchen at some point, cause I was starving and the chefs said they had leftovers from dinner. Then I went to Luke’s, but he said I was muttering too much and made me leave—”
“Luke’s room,” you and Jack said in unison.
Without another word, the three of you moved down the hall. Luke’s door was ajar—of course it was—and the faint smell of cologne hit you the moment you stepped in.
Jack headed to the desk while you beelined for the armchair, where a dress shirt was hanging half-on, half-off. Quinn hovered in the doorway, silent and nervous.
You dropped to your knees, checking beneath the bed and side tables. Nothing.
Then Jack made a sound—a triumphant half-laugh, half-gasp.
He held up a small, black faux-leather notebook. “Found them.”
Quinn exhaled like someone had just lifted a mountain off his chest. He moved forward quickly, grabbing them from Jack’s hand, eyes skimming the pages like he couldn’t believe they were real.
“I owe you both so much.”
“You owe me a drink,” Jack said. “And a thank-you in your vows.”
Quinn turned to you. “Seriously. Thank you.”
You gave him a soft smile. “You’re going to marry the love of your life in less than two hours. You’ve got this.”
Jack nudged you gently. “Come on. Let’s get you back before Emmeline thinks I kidnapped you.”
You followed him into the hallway again, pulse finally starting to level. But as Jack glanced sideways at you, his voice low, something else fluttered in your chest.
“You’re good in a crisis,” he said.
You looked up at him. “I work well under pressure.”
He smirked. “Noted.”
And though the crisis was over, the buzz in your chest didn’t fade.
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆
The ceremony unfolds like something from a dream—light streaming through stained glass, the delicate rustle of fabric, and the steady hum of love filling every pew. You’re barely holding it together as the vows are exchanged. Words so personal and full of promise that your heart aches a little, as though some small part of you longs to be seen like that, held like that, chosen like that.
You cry—not dramatically, but quietly, the kind of tears that gather slowly and fall before you can even think to wipe them away.
When they kiss—sealed now in every legal, emotional, and spiritual way—the room erupts in cheers. You’re clapping and cheering like everyone else, watching through damp lashes as the couple walks back down the aisle, glowing, triumphant, wildly in love.
The recessional begins, and Jack offers his arm, as planned. You hesitate only a second before slipping your hand through, and together you walk down the aisle. The room blurs a little with the soft focus of flowers and applause and music, and yet Jack beside you is the one thing that feels sharply, unmistakably real.
When you reach the grand, vaulted lobby with its marble floors and floral arrangements taller than you, he turns to you. There’s a small smile on his face, something gentler than you’ve seen in hours. Maybe days.
Jack had rehearsed this moment a hundred times in his head since the early morning. And yet, now that he was standing in front of you, flushed and radiant in the soft post-ceremony glow, hand still tucked in the crook of his arm, he felt completely unprepared.
God, you were beautiful.
It had hit him like a sucker punch when he first saw you this morning in the lobby, barefoot and bleary-eyed in those satin pyjamas, hair wild and cheeks flushed from sleep. You were half-asleep and entirely unaware of how close you’d come to disaster with the lilies, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to wrap his arms around you. Not just to keep you safe, but because it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Then in the bridal suite, with your hair up in massive rollers and your robe slipping off one shoulder, laughing softly. Then your steady presence as you attempted to calm Quinn, as if it were the easiest thing. He’d felt something settle heavy in his chest. You were chaos and calm all at once. A contradiction he couldn’t stop watching.
But now?
Now he could barely breathe.
There was something about this version of you that wrecked him—composed, poised, glowing in the aftermath of vows and violins and a room full of love. Your dress shimmered under the chandelier light, catching reflections of the roses behind you. Your eyes were still damp from tears, lashes clumped just slightly, and you were chewing the inside of your cheek in that way you did when you were trying not to feel too much.
And all Jack could think was Wow.
He remembered the exact second he’d seen you walk into the church, bouquet clutched tight and face tilted upward like you were catching light with your skin. His breath had caught somewhere in his throat, and he’d had to look away, not because he wanted to, but because the look on your face had felt too intimate to witness.
And the worst part?
He didn’t even know where the line was anymore.
Not after last night. Not after the kiss. Not after the way you’d touched his arm in the lobby like it meant something. Not after the way you had looked at him just now, cheeks warm from crying, smile slipping onto your face.
He wants to tell you. God, he wants to tell you.
You look stunning. That you’ve been knocking the wind out of him since seven this morning. That he keeps replaying the kiss in the car like it’s his personal version of slow torture. That you’re the only thing he’s seen clearly all day, despite the chaos and ceremony and flowers and vows.
But just as he opens his mouth, just as the words begin to gather in his throat—
“There you two are!”
A burst of voices and movement breaks the moment like a stone through glass. The bridal party floods the lobby behind you, laughter and congratulations spilling into the space like champagne overflowing a glass.
Someone claps Jack on the shoulder. A photographer pulls you to the side for a photo of the bridesmaids.
And just like that, the moment vanishes.
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆
After the photos, you all make your way into the reception hall.
It’s breathtaking. Truly. The kind of beauty that makes you pause in the doorway.
Golden light spills from chandeliers strung with crystals, mingling with the glow of hundreds of delicate string lights wound through the rafters like fallen stars. The tables gleam with polished glassware and candlelight, and soft jazz plays in the background, blending with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and footsteps on polished floors.
Everything is perfect.
You try—really, truly try—to focus on Emmeline and Quinn. On their joy, on the way Quinn can’t stop stealing glances at his wife like he still can’t believe it’s real. On Emmeline’s bright smile as she and Quinn spin and twirl to “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”.
But it’s hard. Because no matter how hard you try, your gaze constantly drifts to Jack. You try not to watch him, but you do. Of course you do. How could you not? He looks good. Sharp suit, tie hanging loose around his neck, his hair now curling a little at the ends from the humidity. 
And every time your eyes are pulled to Jack, you find his green ones already on you. 
Not just glancing. Not just noticing. Watching.
It makes your stomach do this slow, nauseating flip. Not unpleasant, just… overwhelming. 
You busy yourself with anything—laughing too hard at Emmeline’s father’s toast, fussing with your napkin, trying not to spill champagne when someone proposes yet another toast—but Jack is there. Always just at the edge of your vision. Sometimes talking to Quinn or one of the groomsmen, sometimes nodding along to someone else’s story, but his attention always strays.
You’re standing near the edge of the dance floor when you finally crack.
The laughter and clinking glasses, the swirling dresses and shimmering lights—it all starts to feel a little too loud, too much. You step away quietly, unnoticed. It’s not dramatic. You just… need a breath.
The venue opens onto a terrace that overlooks the lake. Beyond it, the water stretches out dark and glassy, the sky above littered with stars. 
The air is cooler than you expect, the kind of gentle, refreshing chill that only comes after a day of heat. You wrap your arms around yourself out of habit rather than cold, your heels clicking softly against the stone path as you make your way toward the water. The canopy of string lights above glows like fireflies frozen mid-flight, casting your shadow in a hundred directions.
The noise from the reception drifts in on the breeze—bass from the speakers, laughter echoing across the lawn, the occasional clink of glass. But out here, it feels quieter. Calmer. Like the entire world has decided to hold its breath.
You settle near the railing, arms resting on the cool metal, looking out at the water as it glitters faintly under moonlight. The silence is almost enough.
Then, you hear the footsteps, the clacking of dress shoes against pavement. You don’t have to turn to know who it is.
His presence announces itself before he says a word. That quiet, deliberate energy of his. A stillness wrapped in intensity. You hear him pause a few feet behind you. A beat. Two.
“Running away?” he asks quietly.
You glance over your shoulder. He’s standing a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, hair a little messier now, curls looser around his forehead. The tie is completely gone. His shirt is unbuttoned at the collar.
“Just needed air,” you reply, your voice low. “Too many people. Too many feelings.”
He steps closer, his shoes crunching faintly on the gravel. “Yeah. It’s a lot.”
You turn to face him more fully now, leaning one hip against the railing. “I thought maybe if I slipped out, I’d get a minute to think.”
Jack’s eyes search yours, serious now. The teasing is gone.
“Did it help?” he asks.
You swallow. “No.”
A beat. Just long enough for the breeze to rise and fall again.
Jack shifts, jaw working like he’s trying to find the right words. Then he breathes out and just says it:
“About the kiss.”
You feel it instantly—that jolt in your chest, like someone pulling a thread too tight. You glance down at your hands, fingers curling around the metal railing. “I figured we’d pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Is that what you want?”
You don’t answer immediately. The silence between you stretches.
Then, softly: “I don’t know what I want.”
Jack exhales a quiet laugh—one that’s more self-conscious than amused. He closes the space between you until you’re nearly shoulder to shoulder, his voice quieter now.
“I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. The kiss. The car. You.”
He pauses. “And I know it was messy. I know we were yelling, and we hated each other…literally yesterday, and the whole thing feels like some kind of fever dream…”
You glance at him.
“…but I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” he admits, his voice raw around the edges now. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
Your breath catches. “Jack…”
“I know we weren’t supposed to like each other. That was kind of the deal, right? Keep it civil for our Quinn and Emmy’s sake, tolerate each other long enough to make it through this wedding weekend without bloodshed.”
You laugh softly, the sound almost startled.
He goes on, eyes flicking to your face. “But then you started showing up in all the spaces in my head where you weren’t supposed to be. Laughing in the bridal suite. Crying during the ceremony. Standing barefoot in that fucking hotel lobby in satin pajamas.”
You look down, a smile tugging at your mouth despite yourself.
“And I know it’s fast,” he says. “I know we’ve gone from sworn enemies to whatever this is in the span of just barely twenty-four hours. But if you feel even a fraction of what I feel…”
Your heart is pounding.
“…then maybe we should stop pretending this isn’t happening.”
Your throat is tight. “It is confusing,” you whisper. “We were supposed to hate each other.”
“I still think you’re insufferable,” Jack says, grinning now, but his eyes are too soft for it to land like a joke. “But God help me, I don’t think I can go back to not caring about you.”
You inhale slowly. The words settle in your chest like something sacred.
Then you say, quietly, “I haven’t stopped thinking about it either. The kiss. You. All of it.”
Jack’s expression shifts—relief, warmth, maybe even a little fear. “So… what do we do?”
You glance up at the string lights above you. The world feels smaller here, wrapped in twinkle and quiet.
“I think we should stop pretending,” you say.
And that’s all it takes.
He steps in closer, one hand coming up to rest against your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. You lean into the touch without thinking, your own hands finding his chest, the fabric of his dress-shirt soft beneath your fingertips.
There’s a heartbeat between you—a pause, one last breath before everything changes.
Then he kisses you.
And this time, it’s not rushed or stolen or unsure. It’s deliberate. Full. The kind of kiss that unfurls heat low in your stomach and steals the ground from under your feet. His other hand finds your waist, fingers splaying against the yellow satin fabric as he draws you in, close enough to steal your breath all over again. Your hands slide up, threading into the back of his hair.
You kiss him like you’ve been waiting all night. Like maybe you’ve been waiting longer.
When you finally part, your lips still tingling, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath shallow. The kiss lingers between you, slow and certain this time—not impulsive, not confused. Just real. 
Jack exhales, leaning back slightly to look into your eyes. “So…what now?”
You smile, small and tentative. “I guess we go back in before someone sends a search party.”
He chuckles. “Right. But…after that? What about after the wedding?”
You hesitate, because it’s a good question. After the wedding, everything scatters. Guests go home. Real life starts back up. The weekend magic evaporates.
But then you look at him—this boy you thought you couldn’t stand, who ended up holding lily bouquets away from you like he was shielding you from poison, who kept glancing your way during the entire reception like you were the only one in the room.
You reach for his hand. “After the wedding… we figure it out.”
He squeezes your hand. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You walk back together, not talking much, but your fingers stay laced. And this time, when you re-enter the reception, people notice. Emmeline catches your eye from across the dance floor, her gaze examining the sight before her before widening. You watch as her manicured hands grip her new husband's arm tightly and she urgently whispers something to him. Quinn’s eyes flick towards you, a matching shocked look coming across his face.
Later, when the party is dying down and the stars are starting to peek through the canopy of lights, Jack asks you to dance. There’s no more tension, no more rivalry—just a slow song, a full heart, and a whole new beginning unfolding between you.
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bttrflybb · 5 months ago
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𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄 ≡ neji hyūga (18+)
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contains: fem reader˒ neji x reader˒ crvix stim˒ breeding˒ praise˒ prgnancy ment.
summary: you find out what makes the genius of the hyūga clan tick. your sex life is good, but he’s always been a bit uninvolved in the decisions around it.
w/c: 1.5k.
a/n: this was supposed to be multi headcanon post including others about you finding out their biggest kinks, but i’d figure i’d just get it out now since it’ll take a bit for the rest. ero-sensei and the sixth are already gonna be included but if you have anyone else you’d like to see, let me know ! barely proofread, if you’re stumbling along this post in its infancy before i get back home and make some more edits… im sorry . ;;
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neji, at his core, is a gentle man. he’s slow, intent on doing his best for you, making you feel the best for him. during the act he’s the one taking the lead, but outside of it you’re the one telling him just how to do so. truth is, he had always been a bit unsure of his sexual preferences. it’s no surprise that such a straight-edged n’ pent up shinobi like him has less developed kinks and fetishes than his pervy lover. 
that is, until the both of you let something slip.
it was in the middle of a hazy entanglement, you were flush against the futon and neji was hungry. by the way he spread your legs open, rounding one palm to the underside of your right thigh and lifting it up and out and hooking the other underneath your left knee to stretch it outwards against the floor, this man was starved. he swallowed your moans the second they came, sloppily tonguing you down and devouring the mix of saliva you two created. so fucking desperate. the fat tip of neji’s cock draagged along your wet slit forcing a whine out of you from just the sound. your head clouded with confusion and lust- it felt so fucking good but it contrasted starkly aside the usual sensual pace and tone neji tends to set. he rut against the outside of you, rocking back n’ forth while your lips enveloped him and covered his cock in your juices. he looked so good above you, his hair a mess and his brows furrowed in horny concentration. your thoughts still run with curiosity, did he drink at all? no, he doesn’t taste like anything. neji isn’t the kind of person to be open about his sex so he definitely didn’t ask anybody-
“talk to me, lovely.” he rumbled, the undertones of desperation seeping through such a caring, gentle voice. he even sounded different. neji tapped his forehead against yours, resting against it for a moment while he waited for you to come back to him. “m’ okay, neji.” you nodded, locking your gaze with his. “jus’ so… feisty.” you flush. neji separates his forehead from yours and you swear you catch a sly smile beneath the umber veil that falls across his face as he shifts and dips his head down to the crook of your neck. instinctively you tip your head up to make room for the licks and nips that make their way up to your ear.
“yeah? you like it?” his breathy words laced with lust choked you like poison. a pitiful moan crawled its way out of your throat and all you could do was nod and breathe out an ‘uh-huh’ while he ravaged the side of your neck. lavender eyes fix onto every movement of your face, peering at you from below through dark strands of hair like an animal behind bars. oh so fucking slowly neji fucks his tip in n' out of your entrance, fixated on the way your eyebrows knit together and mouth twitches as he sinks his cock deeper with every other thrust. each word of praise goes straight to your cunt while it eagerly swallows more n’ more of his length. you sound like a slut in more ways than one and it’s fueling neji like he’s a goddamn incubus.
your knees are up by your head and neji's pace is grueling. throughout all of this neji's words of praise never stop flowing- like sweet thick honey. you're drowning. each time he buries his pretty slender cock all the way in he draws it out slow, then fast, then all the way back in again- and again- "neh..jiii- nnghh- hahh-" you mewl, your words and noises staggering each time his tip meets with your cervix. between the abuse of your cunt and that sweet, demeaning voice, it’s all too much. he speaks down to you like you're stupid- and you are. he knows you are. "yeaah, sweetheart? what is it, angel?" he knows what it is, he knows what he's doing. "mm' close n'ji... m' reaaal close-" you whine, grasping at his wrists planted on either side of your head. he's so sweet, delicately taking hold of both of your hands and interlocking his fingers between yours. "y-yeah angel?" he stammers, he's close too and you squeeze his palms in acknowledgment. "hahh, you want it sweet thing? what you said earlier- about a baby- gghhah-" his moans descend into an airy, rough laugh and you swear you can feel his dick throb when he says it. “you want my seed, pretty girl?”
fuck. it all clicks now. when he had come home and you awoke to the sound of shoji doors sliding open and closed. dinner was ready and warm, the garden was tended to, the house was clean and you had showered and slipped into a nap on the couch in just your night robe . neji kissed the sleep from your eyes and you joked about how peaceful it was; the only thing that could disrupt it would be one or two little ones running around. that's what it fucking was.
"neji-" you choke out and wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him into you. that brazen expression falters more and more and he's boring holes through his own eyelids- it feels like he's in a fucking sauna. his sly little smile slips away each thrust and he gets sloppier and sloppier each time he dives inside. "m' close angel- hahhh do you want me t-ngh," you can feel him throb inside you, he's actively holding himself back. "please neji, hah- fuck- get me fucking pregnant neji-" and with three pumps and the help your vulgar rambling he's driving his own cum deep inside. out halfway and back in, hard. the prettiest fucking mix of groans and whines spill out his mouth with each rope he shoots inside you. he feels so hot, his head feels so heavy he just lets it drop- n’ if he wasn't holding himself up with locked elbows and you werent keeping squeezing his hands so tight your knuckles were turning white, he might've just toppled over. you look so fucking good underneath him this way, twitching n’ arching while taking everything he gives you- and he’s sure to let you know that. “look so good, pretty girl, taking it all- fuck,” you cry, his words, his pelvis to clit thrusts, his voice, his warmth flooding you sends you clumsily toppling over the edge. the sound he makes when he starts to feel you throb around him is flithy, and the words of praise that follow after are just as gross. “yeah take it all pretty thing, take what you want. milk my cock f’r me…”
the highs of both your orgasms slowly wear off together and the exhaustion hits. your heart pangs with pity when neji’s elbows shakily hit the futon with a poof and you look up at him trembling n’ panting above you. you’ve never seen him so unkempt. honestly, a small wave of pride washes over you and you can’t help but breathe out a small giggle while you quiver and take spaced, shaky breaths. your foreheads meet once again and he offers you a weak smile. “what are you laughing at?” his voice is hoarse and laced in faux venom. his eyebrows knit together for a moment and his eye contact falters- a simultaneous whine comes from the two of you as he drags his half hard cock out and the results of tonight make themselves known. neji sits back on his knees and just watches it spill out onto the robe beneath you, barring it from leaking out onto the futon. there was so much. you can almost see stars form in the blank space of his eyes while he watches you and you just want to hide. none of that here though. before you can even start neji’s got his hands back on you palming at the inside of your open flat right thigh and gripping the top of your left knee, preventing you from closing your legs and rolling to the side. “nejiii… you’re staring too hard.” you whine. “m’barrassing.” you’re hiding behind your hands at this point. neji shakes his head and cuffs your wrists with one hand and brings them to lay on your tummy. his right snakes around your left knee and he scooches in so he can kiss the top of it and rest his head on it, letting his hand travel down and rub your thigh.
“did you mean it?” he asks, a bit hushed.
“mean what?” obviously you have a grasp on what he’s inquiring about.
“what you said- about… um… getting you pregnant.” neji murmured, censoring the word tailing the end of the sentence between his lips and your knee, kissing it again.
“if i didn’t i wouldn’t have said anything- the first or second time.” you pull yourself up with his hand (well, more like he pulls you up single-handedly after a couple taps and tugs to show him you wanted up) and are eye level with him again. soft kisses meet his left cheek and cool and clammy skin flushes at the affection.
“is that fine?” “mhm.” “you liked it?” “a lot.”
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astrofaeology · 1 month ago
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Aries Saturn
predictions for when it aspects your natal planets
paid readings | Masterlist
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Rising
Conjunction: When transiting Saturn in Aries conjuncts your Rising, it marks an intense period of self-definition and the restructuring of one's public image and personal identity. This is a time when you may feel compelled to build a more disciplined and authentic persona, potentially through a significant re-evaluation of how they present yourself to the world to ultimately be more authentic and go run towards your dreams. The focus is on establishing a solid, mature foundation for their outward expression, which is authentic to who you are.
Opposition: A Saturn in Aries opposition to your Rising creates tension between personal identity and external relationships or projected self. This period challenges you to find balance between your assertive self-expression and the needs or perceptions of others. This may lead to you becoming more isolatd and refining your social circle, and the people in your life may be increasing their efforts for you to become more diciplined.
Square: A square from transiting Saturn in Aries to your natal Rising signifies friction in self-expression and how one initiates action. This can manifest as external challenges that force a re-evaluation of personal boundaries, leadership style, and the way one asserts their individuality. Overcoming these obstacles requires disciplined effort and a willingness to restructure one's approach to life.
Trine: A trine from transiting Saturn in Aries to your Rising indicates a natural ease in asserting a disciplined, structured self-image. Opportunities for effortless self-improvement and public recognition for one's pioneering efforts may arise. This aspect supports harmonious growth in personal authority and the ability to build a strong, respected presence. How it's done depends on the placement of your natal saturn is.
Sextile: A sextile from transiting Saturn in Aries to your Rising presents opportunities to develop self-discipline and structure in one's public persona. New ideas for self-presentation and initiating projects may flow smoothly. This aspect encourages cooperative efforts in refining one's outward identity and taking constructive action. Think long term dicipline and action.
Sun
Conjunction: When transiting Saturn in Aries conjuncts your natal Aries Sun, it marks a profound period of redefinition for one's core identity and life purpose. This is a time when the individual's fundamental drive and self-expression are disciplined and structured for long-term goals. It compels a serious evaluation of who one is at their core and how they assert their individuality in the world, leading to a more mature and responsible self.
Opposition: With transiting aries saturn opposing your libra sun, these placements are now in mutual exchange with eachother. So this period you will learn how to become more confident and own the room, take control of your idenity and use that wit for your advantage.
Square: A square from transiting Saturn in Aries to a natal Cancer or Capricorn Sun signifies significant challenges to one's ego and self-expression. Obstacles may arise that demand hard work to align personal drive with external realities or limitations. This aspect pushes you to confront their self-imposed restrictions and develop greater resilience in pursuing their authentic path.
Trine: this asepct indicates a natural flow in your self-expression and goal pursuit. You might find opportunities for growth and recognition based on your innate talents and disciplined efforts, leading to harmonious integration of ambition and structured action.
Sextile: presents opportunities to develop and express your core identity in a structured way. New avenues for disciplined self-improvement and achieving ambitions may open, encouraging cooperative efforts in refining your purpose.
Moon
Conjunction: When transiting Saturn in Aries conjuncts your natal Moon, you'll experience a deep emotional restructuring and re-evaluation of your security needs. This period compels you to confront emotional patterns and build more resilient inner foundations, disciplining emotional responses and establishing inner security through self-reliance.
Opposition: An opposition from Saturn in Aries to your natal Moon will create tension between your emotional needs and external demands or responsibilities. You'll be challenged to find a balance between your feelings and practical realities, especially in relationships or family dynamics, requiring you to integrate emotional impulses with disciplined self-care.
Square: A square from Saturn in Aries to your natal Moon signifies emotional challenges and internal friction. Obstacles may force you to confront and discipline impulsive emotional responses or insecure patterns, pushing you to develop emotional resilience and build stronger internal structures for managing your feelings.
Trine: A trine from Saturn in Aries to your natal Moon indicates a natural ease in emotional expression and finding security through disciplined self-nurturing. Opportunities for emotional growth and stability may arise, allowing for harmonious integration of feelings with practical responsibilities.
Sextile: A sextile from Saturn in Aries to your natal Moon presents opportunities to develop emotional maturity and structure your inner life. New ways to integrate feelings with practical responsibilities and build a sense of emotional security may emerge, encouraging cooperative efforts in refining your emotional landscape.
Mercury
Conjunction: When transiting Saturn in Aries conjuncts your natal Mercury, it signifies a period of disciplined thought and communication. This compels you to focus your mental energy on long-term plans and structured learning. It is a time for refining communication styles, developing intellectual rigor, and applying a serious approach to information gathering and expression.
Opposition: An opposition from Saturn in Aries to your natal Mercury creates tension in communication or intellectual processes. You'll be challenged to find a balance between your personal ideas and external perspectives. It requires learning to integrate your quick, impulsive thoughts with a more cautious and objective approach to dialogue and decision-making.
Square: A square from Saturn in Aries to your natal Mercury signifies challenges in communication, learning, or decision-making. Friction may arise that demands disciplined thinking and clear expression to overcome misunderstandings or mental blocks. This aspect pushes you to confront your intellectual limitations and develop more structured problem-solving skills.
Trine: A trine from Saturn in Aries to your natal Mercury indicates a natural ease in clear, structured communication and learning. Opportunities for effortless intellectual growth and effective problem-solving may arise. This aspect supports a harmonious flow of ideas and the ability to express yourself with authority and clarity.
Sextile: A sextile from Saturn in Aries to your natal Mercury presents opportunities to develop new communication strategies and intellectual skills. New ideas for structured learning and expressing thoughts may emerge. This aspect encourages cooperative efforts in refining your mental processes and applying discipline to intellectual pursuits.
Venus
Conjunction: When transiting Saturn in Aries conjuncts your natal Venus, it signifies a significant re-evaluation and restructuring of your relationships, values, and financial approach. This is a period for defining what truly brings pleasure, commitment, and stability in love and material matters, compelling you to build more mature and disciplined foundations in partnerships and finances.
Opposition: An opposition from Saturn in Aries to your natal Venus creates tension in relationships, values, or finances. You'll be challenged to find a balance between your personal desires and the needs or values of others, requiring you to integrate your approach to love and money with a more disciplined and objective perspective.
Square: A square from Saturn in Aries to your natal Venus signifies challenges in love, money, or aesthetic values. Friction may arise that demands effort to build more stable and disciplined relational or financial structures, pushing you to confront unrealistic expectations in partnerships and develop a more grounded approach to your values.
Trine: A trine from Saturn in Aries to your natal Venus indicates a natural ease in forming committed relationships and attracting resources. Opportunities for harmonious growth in love and finances may arise through disciplined effort, supporting stable and enduring partnerships and a practical approach to material well-being.
Sextile: A sextile from Saturn in Aries to your natal Venus presents opportunities to develop more disciplined approaches to relationships and finances. New ideas for attracting beauty and pleasure through structured effort may emerge, encouraging cooperative efforts in refining your values and building stable, fulfilling connections.
Mars
Conjunction: When transiting Saturn in Aries conjuncts your natal Mars, it signifies an intense focus on your drive, assertion, and how you take action. This is a period of powerfully disciplining your will and directing your energy for long-term goals, compelling you to channel your pioneering spirit and competitive nature into structured, purposeful action.
Opposition: An opposition from Saturn in Aries to your natal Mars creates tension between your personal drive and external forces or partnerships. You'll be challenged to find a balance between your individual assertion and collaborative action, requiring you to integrate your impulsive drive with the need for caution and strategic planning.
Square: A square from Saturn in Aries to your natal Mars signifies significant friction in how you assert yourself or pursue goals. Obstacles may arise that demand disciplined action and strategic planning to overcome, pushing you to confront impulsiveness and develop a more mature and effective approach to conflict and ambition.
Trine: A trine from Saturn in Aries to your natal Mars indicates a natural ease in directing your energy and pursuing goals with discipline. Opportunities for effective action and achieving ambitions may arise effortlessly, supporting a harmonious flow of drive and determination.
Sextile: A sextile from Saturn in Aries to your natal Mars presents opportunities to develop more effective and disciplined ways of taking action. New ideas for channeling drive and asserting yourself constructively may emerge, encouraging cooperative efforts in refining your approach to challenges and pursuing goals with greater strategy.
Saturn
Conjunction: When transiting Saturn in Aries conjuncts your natal Saturn, this is the most significant aspect, known as the Saturn Return. This is a profound period of personal growth, maturity, and karmic reckoning. If you have natal Saturn in Aries (approximately 1996-1999, 1967-1969, or 1937-1939), you will experience this. This transit demands you evaluate your life, set new goals, and take on greater responsibilities, fundamentally defining the next 29 years. It's a powerful coming-of-age, forcing you to define your independence, assert your authentic self, and take on adult responsibilities in a way that truly aligns with your unadulterated drive.
Opposition: An opposition from Saturn in Aries to your natal Saturn signifies a mid-life or mid-cycle review of your foundational structures and responsibilities. This creates challenges in balancing personal discipline with external demands or projections. It's a period for re-evaluating commitments and adjusting your long-term path to align with current realities.
Square: A square from Saturn in Aries to your natal Saturn signifies significant internal or external challenges related to your sense of duty, limitations, or authority. This demands hard work to restructure foundational elements of life that may no longer serve you. It's a period of intense pressure to overcome obstacles and build more resilient structures.
Trine: A trine from Saturn in Aries to your natal Saturn indicates periods of natural ease in building structures and taking on responsibilities. Opportunities for stable growth and recognition for disciplined efforts may arise. This aspect supports a harmonious flow in your life path, allowing for effortless progress in long-term goals.
Sextile: A sextile from Saturn in Aries to your natal Saturn presents opportunities to develop new strategies for discipline and responsibility. New avenues for structured growth and overcoming limitations may emerge. This aspect encourages cooperative efforts in refining your approach to life's challenges and building a more solid foundation.
Jupiter
Conjunction: When transiting Saturn in Aries conjuncts your natal Jupiter, it marks a period of disciplined growth and expansion, where optimism is grounded in realistic planning. Opportunities for structured learning and philosophical development may arise. This aspect compels you to apply discipline to your expansive tendencies, leading to more sustainable and impactful growth.
Opposition: An opposition from Saturn in Aries to your natal Jupiter creates tension between expansive desires and practical limitations or responsibilities. You'll be challenged to find a balance between optimism and realism, particularly in matters of belief, education, or travel. It requires integrating a broad vision with the need for structure and accountability.
Square: A square from Saturn in Aries to your natal Jupiter signifies challenges to growth and opportunities. Friction may arise that demands disciplined effort to expand horizons or pursue higher knowledge. This aspect pushes you to confront your limitations and develop a more structured approach to your aspirations, ensuring long-term viability.
Trine: A trine from Saturn in Aries to your natal Jupiter indicates a natural ease in seeking knowledge, expanding horizons, and attracting opportunities. Blessings and good fortune may flow with minimal effort. This aspect supports harmonious growth in philosophy, spirituality, and personal development, allowing for effortless progress.
Sextile: A sextile from Saturn in Aries to your natal Jupiter presents opportunities to develop new ways of learning, expanding, and attracting abundance. New ideas for structured growth and philosophical exploration may emerge. This aspect encourages cooperative efforts in refining your belief systems and pursuing opportunities with greater discipline.
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DISCLAIMER: This post is a generalisation and may not resonate. I recommend you get a reading from an astrologer (me). If you want a reading from me check out my sales page.
@astrofaeology private services 2025 all rights reserved
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mxchibomb · 2 months ago
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content. mdni 18+
munch! jiraiya !! face sitting
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jiraiya who enjoys letting you take advantage of him.
 "sit." he ordered softly with a subtle sharp tone, clicking his tongue against his teeth at your hesitant form, puffy folds just barely pressing against his wet lips while you hovered in insecurity. you captured his undivided attention, the usually obnoxious sage scarily quiet. long, white hair untied from his usual loose ponytail was sprawled along the bed and he was rid of his hitai-ate. his face was flushed a bright pink, eyes drooping in absolute longing. "please sit.." he urged you with the tip of his tongue poking outwards to drag a stripe along your wet cunt just above his face. he hummed at the taste of you on his taste buds, dilated pupils going unnoticed in his dark eyes. his fat cock was almost bursting in anticipation. your unintentional teasing made his head spin, leaving you with an impatient wrap of his arms around the fat of your thighs. a desperate tug of your body downwards, the smallest spurt of cum staining the front of his pants at the feeling of your weight against his waiting face.
 you hadn't even the time to complain, his lips hurriedly latching onto your folds. strong arms locked you in tight and the pads of his fingers dug craters into the soft skin of your thighs. his tongue was skillful, as expected from his age and his promiscuous ways. fast yet just the right amount of gentle. his tongue flicked at the sweet bud in his mouth with glazed over eyes. he watched your every move, every facial expression with his face scrunched in pleasure of pleasuring you.
 "so good.." his mumbles were muffled on your soft pussy. his eyes rolled to the back of his head, cock twitching painfully as your hips unintentionally ground against his face, your pubic mound bumping into the long shape of his nose. "mmmfff.. love it.."
 you had given in to the addictive flicks of his tongue against your pussy, your noises bouncing off the walls and back at you. your thighs squeezed at his head at the obscene slurps his mouth created, whining loudly at the brief feeling of his tongue dipping into your hole. your cunt pulsed on his taste buds, the bounce of your hips on top of him proceeding with more vigor. 
 leaning back, a weak hand slipped down into the waistband of jiraiya's pants. his hips bucked and he groaned loudly into the space between your thighs as your warmth wrapped around the width of his leaking cock, a mix of precum and thick sperm dribbling down into your palm. he was was impossibly hard, the slightest touch leaving behind a twitch and a grunt in response. your hand clutched at his cock tightly, the lubricant from his cum squishing softly at the movements of your hands pumping his shaft.
 he groaned against your skin and gently shook his head, his tongue mirroring his movements. the anxious churn of his gut and aggressive tightness in his balls began to warn him. he couldn't cum before you. he tried not to. but the delicious tug of your hand and the sweet saltiness of your slick threatened to make him spill, a constant flow of precum and blood rushing through his cock. your body did well for his pride, convulsing with loud whines and the sweet release of your juices landing on his tongue.
 "fuuucckkkー" your hand held the base of his cock in a steady grip as you came, setting him off with a loud groan into your sensitive cunt. the sage green of his uniform turned dark as cum seeped into the fabric of his pants, painting his pelvis with the excess that bubbled over.
 with soft pants, you lifted your body upwards only to be pulled into the same grip you were just in.
 "mm-mm.. just a little longer." jiraiya gave a dopeish smile with a mix of your juices and his saliva dripping down his cheeks and chin, slipping out of lust into his signature of outright perversion.
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the-cosmic-cauldron · 5 months ago
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❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 Who Is Instantly Obsessed With You❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥
💌Welcome to 7 Days, 7 Posts! In honor of Valentine’s Day on February 14th, I’m releasing seven blog posts dedicated to love, intimacy, passion, and everything that ignites the flames. Join me on this journey as I share my insights on astrological placements that spark attraction, create chemistry, and merge souls.
If you enjoy my content, be sure to follow me, explore my other posts, and check out my paid services! 💌
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Your rising sign, or ascendant, represents how you appear to others. It reflects your outward personality, aura, and overall vibe. It’s the first impression you give before people get to know your deeper layers. Now, let’s dive into who is instantly attracted to you based on your rising sign.
Aries Rising – Leo
Yes, Leos are naturally drawn to the fiery energy of Aries Rising. Ruled by Mars, Aries Rising exudes passion, drive, and an undeniable urge to take action. Leo, ruled by the Sun, thrives on passion and the desire to leave a lasting impression on the world. Aries Rising, with their bold and fearless nature, acts as the muscle behind Leo’s ambitions, making them an irresistible force in Leo’s eyes.
Leo is fascinated by Aries Rising’s directness—there’s no beating around the bush, no unnecessary games, just straightforward action. This honesty and confidence are magnetic to Leo, who admires Aries Rising’s ability to take charge. The strong, commanding aura of Aries Rising captivates Leo, drawing them in deeper.
Even more intriguing for Leo is when Aries Rising pulls away. The moment Aries Rising becomes unavailable or disinterested, Leo feels an even stronger pull. Determined to brighten Aries’ day and bask in their fiery presence, Leo finds themselves unconsciously following wherever Aries Rising goes, unable to resist their natural allure.
Taurus Rising – Pisces
Pisces exists in a world of its own, detached from the harshness and coldness of reality. They crave safe spaces—places that make them feel comfortable and at peace. Taurus Rising naturally provides that refuge, offering a sense of stability that Pisces can retreat into.
Taurus Rising isn’t overly expressive or emotionally intense, which allows Pisces to feel at ease rather than overwhelmed by the weight of the outside world. Instead of being consumed by emotional extremes, Pisces can simply melt into the calm, steady presence of Taurus. The unspoken understanding between them creates a peaceful silence—one that never feels awkward or neglectful but rather reassuring and grounding.
Pisces is drawn to the effortless smoothness of Taurus Rising, finding comfort in their ability to create beauty in both their environment and their energy. Taurus Rising listens without the need to constantly talk, providing Pisces with the deep emotional attunement they long for. The Venusian charm of Taurus Rising captivates Pisces, pulling them into an irresistible trance—one that leaves them completely enamored and, at times, obsessed.
Gemini Rising – Leo
Leos are naturally drawn to Gemini Rising because of their effortless sociability. Leos love to socialize, but they prefer interactions that feel natural rather than forced. Gemini Rising provides exactly that—an easygoing, open energy that makes communication flow seamlessly. Unlike others who may hesitate to approach Leo, Gemini Rising jumps right into conversation, making Leo feel instantly at home.
Beyond just social chemistry, Gemini Rising enhances Leo’s creativity. Leo thrives on passion, intensity, and artistic expression, but they can sometimes lose sight of objectivity. Gemini Rising offers fresh ideas and an outside perspective, helping Leo see things from angles they may have overlooked. This dynamic fuels Leo’s inspiration, giving them even more confidence in their pursuits.
Leo becomes obsessed with Gemini because of their popularity and charm. People are naturally drawn to Gemini, and Leo admires those who can command attention as effortlessly as they do. The magnetic energy between them is undeniable—Gemini is always ready to pitch creative ideas, crack jokes, and bring excitement into Leo’s life. With Gemini Rising, Leo never has to worry about boredom.
Leo finds their fire ignited even more in Gemini’s presence, and once that spark is lit, they don’t want to lose it. The connection becomes intoxicating, making Leo crave Gemini’s energy in a way that can feel almost obsessive.
Cancer Rising – Scorpio
Yes, I said it—Scorpios get obsessed with Cancer Rising. The reason? Cancer Rising is both shy and reserved, yet open and nurturing at the same time. They need to feel out someone’s energy before fully opening up, but once they do, they are warm, comforting, and inviting. Scorpios love this because they operate the same way. Just like Cancer Rising, Scorpio doesn’t jump into connections blindly—they observe, analyze, and exercise discernment. This mutual cautiousness creates an innate trust between them, as Scorpio sees Cancer Rising as someone who values emotional security just as much as they do.
Scorpio is especially drawn to Cancer Rising’s self-protective nature. Cancer doesn’t let just anyone in, nor do they readily express their emotions to everyone. They are selective about who they share their inner world with, ensuring that the timing and the person are right. Scorpio admires this level of self-control because it mirrors their own. Unlike other signs that might wear their hearts on their sleeves, Cancer Rising knows when and how to express their emotions in a way that feels intentional. Scorpio finds this deeply attractive.
Another reason Scorpio becomes so captivated is the unspoken connection between them. Cancer Rising is highly intuitive and can pick up on Scorpio’s emotions without the need for excessive probing. Scorpio, who often struggles with expressing their feelings, finds comfort in Cancer Rising’s ability to simply know. Whether through body language, tone, or energy, Cancer Rising naturally attunes to Scorpio’s moods, offering them a sense of safety and understanding. This telepathic bond makes Scorpio feel seen rather than exposed, which is rare for them.
Beyond emotional depth, Cancer Rising also provides a much-needed balance to Scorpio’s intense internal world. While Scorpio is deeply passionate and often caught up in their own intensity, Cancer Rising offers a soothing presence—someone who enjoys relaxation, quiet moments, and gentle emotional reassurance. Cancer Rising instinctively nurtures Scorpio, protecting and grounding them in a way that feels safe and unconditional. This level of devotion is something Scorpio craves, and once they experience it, they become hooked.
Ultimately, Cancer Rising makes Scorpio feel understood in a way few others can. While Scorpio often feels like an outsider, Cancer Rising offers them a place to belong—a warm, protective energy that makes them feel cared for without judgment. Scorpio doesn’t just find a partner in Cancer Rising; they find a lifeline, a source of comfort and emotional security they didn’t realize they needed. And once Scorpio finds that, they never want to let go.
Leo Rising – Sagittarius
Sagittarius becomes obsessed with Leo Rising because of their shared vibrant energy. Sagittarius, ruled by Jupiter, thrives on abundance, optimism, and expansion, while Leo, ruled by the Sun, radiates warmth, confidence, and positivity. Together, they create an electrifying dynamic where Sagittarius feels truly seen, encouraged, and uplifted in ways that others often fail to provide.
Sagittarius frequently feels like the only enthusiastic, hopeful, or excited person in the room. While they carry a naturally high-spirited energy, they can easily be deflated by environments filled with negativity or pessimism. This is why they are so drawn to Leo Rising, who embodies the same lively, expressive, and fun-loving nature. Leo Rising naturally keeps the energy high, always looking to laugh, have a good time, and bring positivity to any situation. Sagittarius finds this irresistible, sinking their teeth into Leo Rising’s energy and becoming completely hooked.
Both signs command attention the moment they enter a room. Sagittarius brings an infectious, adventurous energy that makes people turn their heads, while Leo Rising exudes a regal, magnetic presence that demands respect without effort. Sagittarius feels like they have met their energetic match—someone just as social, open, and ready for adventure as they are. They admire Leo Rising’s ability to draw people in with sheer confidence and charisma, something Sagittarius deeply respects and is naturally attracted to.
Additionally, Sagittarius is always seeking knowledge, and Leo Rising seems to know things—not just intellectually, but experientially. Leo Rising has been around different types of people, engaged in various experiences, and collected countless stories to tell. Sagittarius, who loves a good story, is captivated by Leo’s ability to entertain and inspire.
One of the biggest reasons Sagittarius becomes obsessed with Leo Rising is that Leo provides the ultimate hype. Leo Rising is naturally generous with compliments, encouragement, and motivation, constantly reminding Sagittarius of their greatness. Sagittarius, who thrives on feeling inspired, soaks up this energy like a sponge. Over time, they begin to crave Leo Rising’s presence, realizing that just being around them brightens their spirit. When Sagittarius leaves Leo Rising’s side, they feel the absence of that fiery, uplifting energy—making them want to come back for more, keeping them hooked and obsessed.
Virgo Rising – Cancer
No one becomes more obsessed with Virgo Rising than Cancer. Cancer craves nurturance and wants to feel at home wherever they go, and Virgo Rising is the ultimate nurturer. Virgo Rising is always eager to take care of others, give, and be of service. They feel fulfilled when they are utilized, and if they aren’t, they feel unappreciated. Cancer loves this because the nourishment and care they give are easily reciprocated by Virgo Rising. Virgo Rising doesn’t feel comfortable unless they are giving as much as they are receiving, creating a natural balance and flow in the relationship. This gives Cancer a sense of security, knowing that their effort is returned.
Both signs are incredibly attentive to each other. Cancer notices the smallest emotional details about Virgo, picking up on shifts in mood or when Virgo is having a tough day, and they instinctively nurture them. In turn, Virgo is highly observant of Cancer, noticing things Cancer may need or desires that haven’t been met, and they’ll go out of their way to provide that for them. This creates an unspoken bond of care, service, and love between them that feels deeply fulfilling for Cancer.
Cancer appreciates Virgo’s reserved, shy nature, as it allows them time to warm up to Virgo’s energy without feeling rushed. Virgo Rising also feels comforted by Cancer’s non-intrusive approach. One thing that truly fascinates Cancer is Virgo’s intelligence. Virgo doesn’t just act; they need to know the details and seek to improve themselves constantly. Cancer values personal growth, and Virgo embodies that in a way that resonates with Cancer. They both appreciate evolution and self-improvement, and Cancer feels nurtured by Virgo’s wisdom. Virgo shares insights with Cancer, teaching them new perspectives and ways of navigating the world. As a result, Cancer expands their mind and grows intellectually, learning outside of their emotional realm.
Cancer finds themselves learning so much from Virgo Rising and constantly absorbing new information. Virgo keeps giving more and more, and Cancer finds themselves coming back for more. The generosity of Virgo, combined with their sweetness and intelligence, hooks Cancer deeply. They see Virgo as someone who is not only down-to-earth but also immensely intelligent and supportive. It’s a situation where Cancer feels seen and appreciated, where they can finally thrive without being underappreciated. This reciprocity creates a strong pull for Cancer, making them increasingly hooked on Virgo Rising’s energy.
Libra Rising – Leo
Leo gets hooked on Libra because Libra is a natural charmer. Libra’s goal is to connect, relate, and be friendly, which is the blueprint for a Leo. Leos love social connections and feeling genuinely accepted, and Libra excels at making them feel this way. Libra isn’t judgmental; they take the time to observe Leo without making hasty judgments. This creates a sense of comfort for Leo, as they feel seen and appreciated for who they are.
Libra’s kindness, warmth, and compliments draw Leo in. Leos love receiving compliments, and Libra is always generous with them, infusing Leo’s life with beauty and affirmation. Leo is also drawn to Libra’s creativity and unique interests, often rooted in the arts or beauty. Leo enjoys the reciprocity in their interactions, as Libra constantly engages them in conversation, which provides validation and a sense of connection.
Libra’s friendliness and warmth resonate with Leo, and when they spend time together, they radiate positive energy, often attracting mutual friends. Libra’s ability to articulate things with grace fascinates Leo. While Leo exudes silent confidence, Libra’s communication skills teach Leo how to be charismatic with words. Libra provides Leo with social connections and communication that they crave, offering a balance to their larger-than-life presence.
Both Libra and Leo share a love for Venusian energy. They enjoy activities like visiting art shows, going to the movies, sitting in nature, or having a picnic by a body of water. Their shared interests and hobbies make it easy for them to relate and enjoy each other’s company. Leo finds that Libra consistently provides validation, fun, and enriching experiences.
Although Leo can be prideful, they appreciate that Libra’s humility keeps things balanced. Libra communicates in a way that isn’t forceful or aggressive, which allows Leo to maintain their powerful, dominant energy while being infused with the beauty, creativity, and charm that Libra brings to the table.
Scorpio Rising – Virgo
Virgos become obsessed with Scorpio Rising because Scorpio Rising is enigmatic. They’re hard to figure out, hard to understand, and as we know, Virgos are analytical and driven to understand everything. Anything they don’t understand sparks their curiosity, and Scorpio Rising’s mystery and allure draw them in. The Virgo energy is fascinated and hooked, wanting to uncover who this person really is and figure them out. This sense of mystery makes Virgo become even more obsessed with Scorpio Rising.
When it comes to communication, Virgo has a need to articulate their thoughts in a structured and organized way. They don’t talk just for the sake of talking, and Scorpio Rising shares that trait. Scorpio Rising doesn’t engage in conversation unless there’s a purpose or a genuine interest. There’s a certain structure to how Scorpio Rising communicates, just like there is for Virgo. Virgo appreciates this because it makes their conversations with Scorpio Rising feel purposeful, meaningful, and intentional, which draws them in even further.
Though Scorpio is often perceived as private and reserved, they have a wealth of knowledge. Scorpio Rising is a deep diver, and Virgo is detail-oriented and eager to understand every little aspect of something. Scorpio’s depth of wisdom and insight excites Virgo, who loves the details. The more Scorpio shares, the more Virgo learns and feels empowered by the new knowledge. Scorpio Rising’s intuition and emotional insight also sharpen Virgo’s own intuitive abilities, helping them see life from a new perspective they may not have focused on before.
Virgos, being introverted, need time alone to recharge and reflect, and Scorpio Rising shares this need. Both enjoy taking a step back to process and breathe, which intrigues Virgo. They feel a sense of connection in their shared need for solitude. The similarities in their introverted natures, along with their sharp differences, keep Virgo hooked, and as a result, they become increasingly obsessed with Scorpio Rising.
Sagittarius Rising – Aquarius
This pairing is interesting because both Aquarius and Sagittarius share a certain detachment. Aquarius is detached because they are often absorbed in their thoughts, intellectually focused. Sagittarius is detached because they’re driven by curiosity and the desire to explore different philosophies. Both are focused on accumulating knowledge and gaining new perspectives. This shared intellectual drive is why Aquarius becomes so obsessed with Sagittarius.
Sagittarius often shows up with knowledge that Aquarius would typically need to research. While Aquarius is used to digging through information online, talking to people, and looking up facts, Sagittarius sometimes just knows. They have a natural, philosophical understanding of things that intrigues Aquarius. Aquarius loves intellectual stimulation, and Sagittarius provides it effortlessly. The experiences Sagittarius has had and the patterns they’ve observed shape their unique way of thinking, which Aquarius finds fascinating.
Additionally, both Sagittarius and Aquarius value freedom, but they express it differently. While Aquarius may sometimes want to chill and live life more ordinarily, they have bursts of energy where they seek change and excitement. Sagittarius, on the other hand, always needs to satisfy their desire for freedom and exploration. They both share a drive for new experiences, which makes them feel in sync with one another. Aquarius is drawn to Sagittarius’ embodiment of freedom, as it resonates with their ideal of a free society.
Sagittarius also has a broad, philosophical view of life, constantly asking questions and pondering the future. This idealism and future-oriented thinking appeal to Aquarius, who is always focused on the future and big ideas. Despite their differences, like Sagittarius’ exuberance and bluntness compared to Aquarius’ more reserved, cool nature, the similarities between them draw Aquarius in. Sagittarius’ energy, excitement, and fun contrast with Aquarius’ colder demeanor, creating a dynamic where Aquarius becomes even more intrigued by Sagittarius.
Sagittarius’ ability to bring fun, laughter, and excitement into life melts the ice around Aquarius, warming them up. Sagittarius can talk endlessly, and Aquarius gets mentally stimulated by their conversations. This leads Aquarius to become deeply obsessed with Sagittarius and their adventurous, energetic way of moving through the world. Aquarius finds themselves drawn to follow Sagittarius, wanting to know what they’ll do next.
Sagittarius, however, is not one to stay in one place for long. They love to share their knowledge, but they’re always ready to move on to the next thing. Aquarius is fascinated by this, and it only deepens their obsession, as they want to follow and discover what Sagittarius will do next. The energy between them is magnetic, and that’s why Aquarius gets hooked and can become completely obsessed with a Sagittarius Rising.
Capricorn Rising – Scorpio
Scorpio becomes obsessed with Capricorn Rising because Scorpio is driven by their desire for transformation, and Capricorn is ruled by Saturn, which represents long-lasting results. Transformation takes time, and Saturn forces Capricorn to work through challenges repeatedly until they learn and grow. This resonates with Scorpio, also ruled by Pluto, as they too must learn difficult lessons the hard way. Both Saturn and Pluto push Capricorn and Scorpio into deep, transformative experiences that most other signs don’t have to face.
Scorpio relates to Capricorn Rising’s struggles and admires their resilience. Even after facing challenges, Capricorn Risings continue to strive for success, self-respect, and personal growth. Scorpio shares this same drive, as they hold themselves in high regard and respect others who command respect. Capricorn Rising embodies this respect, which is what Scorpio finds so captivating. The ability of Capricorn Rising to endure hardships and emerge victorious speaks to Scorpio’s own strength, as Scorpio also endures and rises from difficult circumstances.
What Scorpio finds most attractive is Capricorn Rising’s ability to face adversity and still rise above it all. Scorpio sees their own power reflected in Capricorn, and when they’re around Capricorn Rising, they feel a heightened sense of energy and strength. This creates an almost magnetic attraction, and Scorpio becomes hooked on the Capricorn’s unwavering strength and resilience.
Additionally, Scorpio and Capricorn Rising both prefer a more reserved lifestyle. Scorpio enjoys a small, close-knit circle and dislikes loud environments and large social groups. Capricorn Rising shares this preference for privacy and low-key interactions. This mutual understanding creates a sense of comfort between them, as they both value privacy and keeping things low profile.
Scorpio’s obsession with Capricorn Rising intensifies when Capricorn is not around. Scorpio ruminates about what Capricorn might be doing, and their mind is constantly drawn back to them. Scorpio is fueled by intense passion, something Capricorn may lack. While Capricorn is ambitious and focused on achieving goals, Scorpio’s passion for life contrasts with Capricorn’s more grounded, practical approach.
What Scorpio finds compelling about Capricorn is the balance they bring. Scorpio tends to be very intense, and when they are around others who are equally intense, they can become overwhelmed and lose control. However, Capricorn is different. They are calm and composed, never allowing emotions to spiral out of control. When Scorpio feels the intensity building, Capricorn’s ability to stay grounded and shut down unnecessary drama helps to maintain balance.
Scorpio admires people who know how to hold their power and stand firm in their own presence, and Capricorn Rising does this effortlessly. This sense of stability and control draws Scorpio in, and they become captivated by Capricorn’s strength and self-assurance.
Aquarius Rising – Gemini
Aquarius Risings tend to stand out wherever they go. They have a unique, eccentric presence, and they don’t blend in or mesh with the crowd. There’s always something quirky or unusual about them. Aquarius Risings take pride in their individuality and relish their uniqueness, which is something that draws Gemini in.
Geminis love diversity and uniqueness. Their minds are constantly pulled in different directions, and they enjoy seeing variety and versatility in the world. This satisfies their curiosity and intellectual drive, as they constantly seek to understand things from different perspectives. Aquarius Risings captivate Gemini because they offer something new and different, providing an intellectual challenge.
Geminis are confident in their ability to understand people and situations, but Aquarius Rising is elusive and difficult to fully grasp. While Gemini can easily connect with others and engage in conversation, Aquarius Rising remains distant and hard to reach. This intrigues Gemini, as they enjoy the challenge of trying to figure out someone who isn’t easily understood.
When Gemini and Aquarius Rising interact, they have stimulating intellectual conversations and seem to share many commonalities, despite their differing perspectives. However, Aquarius Rising’s emotional detachment and reserved nature are unfamiliar to Gemini, who is used to a more engaging, lively energy. The contrast between them becomes a source of fascination for Gemini, and they find themselves drawn to the challenge of understanding the Aquarius.
Aquarius is a fixed sign, and once they lock in on something, they do so with focus and dedication. This creates a different type of intelligence that intrigues Gemini, who is often more scatterbrained and adaptable. Aquarius Rising’s ability to concentrate deeply on specific knowledge draws Gemini in, making them feel that Aquarius has a form of intelligence they don’t possess, which only adds to their fascination.
Both Aquarius and Gemini are not concerned with the present moment; instead, they are focused on the future. Aquarius Rising is constantly discussing future possibilities and plans, which excites Gemini. They feel energized by the Aquarius Rising’s vision of an ideal future and get hooked on the idea that they could be part of creating something big together.
The Aquarius Rising also offers a unique way of doing things, which Gemini finds captivating. Aquarius teaches Gemini new methods and approaches that they’ve never considered before, sparking Gemini’s curiosity and creativity. Gemini begins to rely on Aquarius as their source of new knowledge and insight, often turning to them for information or fresh perspectives.
Aquarius Rising, ruled by Uranus, is known for their chill, laid-back attitude. Gemini enjoys this relaxed energy because Aquarius is willing to listen to them talk endlessly without getting overwhelmed. At the same time, Aquarius seeks change and new experiences, which appeals to Gemini’s mutable nature. Gemini loves to adapt to change, and Aquarius brings that change into their life.
Over time, Gemini begins to feel like they need Aquarius Rising. The Aquarius provides the novelty and transformation that Gemini craves, and they feel drawn to them in a way they haven’t felt before. The more Gemini engages with Aquarius Rising, the more they become hooked, feeling that they need this person to continue bringing excitement and change into their life.
Pisces Rising – Cancer
Cancers become obsessed and deeply drawn to Pisces Risings for several reasons. First, both Cancer and Pisces Rising are highly emotional and intuitive, speaking the same language. They are both incredibly attuned to their emotions and rely on their instincts, connecting through their shared vibe-based energy. Cancer recognizes this telepathic connection and understands that Pisces Rising operates primarily on vibes, creating an organic and genuine connection when they begin talking. This mutual understanding allows both signs to feel immersed in the connection, knowing that it was chosen and felt naturally by both parties.
Cancer is drawn to Pisces because of their mutable, free-spirited nature. While Cancer can sometimes feel stuck in their shell, hesitant to venture outside of their comfort zone, Pisces is unafraid to move beyond what is familiar. Pisces, being ruled by Jupiter and Neptune, has an innate sense of freedom and fluidity, never staying in one place for too long. Cancer is mesmerized by this trait, feeling drawn to Pisces’ ability to flow freely through life without being confined by fear or limitation.
Moreover, Cancer admires the wisdom that Pisces seems to carry. Pisces Risings have a depth that Cancer finds appealing, seeing in Pisces the potential for growth and evolution. The softness of Pisces Rising also captivates Cancer, as it allows them to feel at ease. Pisces Risings are often artistic, creative, and spiritually attuned, which resonates deeply with Cancer’s own focus on the internal world, imagination, and spiritual connection. Together, they can exchange creativity and bounce ideas off each other, strengthening their bond.
Cancer enjoys the sense of comfort and trust they feel around Pisces, a bond that doesn’t need to be verbalized but is immediately accessible through their shared emotional energy. Both signs have a nurturing, gentle nature, making their connection feel easy and natural. There’s a soothing quality to their relationship, where they can simply exist together, connected on an emotional level without feeling any need to protect themselves.
Cancer also deeply values the wisdom Pisces offers. The Jupiter energy that influences Pisces gives them a broader, more philosophical perspective, while Cancer’s moon-ruled nature allows them to absorb life’s experiences, moving through the cyclical nature of existence with a deep understanding of how things evolve, begin, and end. While Cancer’s wisdom is rooted in their ability to empathize with life’s rhythms, Pisces has an intuitive grasp of spirituality and how it intersects with the material world. Together, they share a wealth of knowledge and can teach each other what the other may be missing.
Their imaginations complement each other beautifully, with Pisces offering a sense of freedom and fluidity, while Cancer brings a sense of comfort and coziness to the relationship. This exchange is a beautiful balance, one that Cancer finds unparalleled with anyone else. Pisces Rising brings a peaceful, ethereal energy into Cancer’s life, and this calm yet otherworldly presence hooks Cancer deeply, leaving them obsessed and unsure of what to do next.
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chubby-dutch-feedee · 4 months ago
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I have a good idea for a force feeding comic/story.
A couple are in a feeder/feedee relationship. Her husband is only a tiny bit pudgy. It bothers her. She has been trying to get her husband to gain weight but to no avail. No matter how much she feeds him he just doesn’t gain any bodyfat.
Eventually she finds a site online. Its a clinic especially made for people to gain weight. She signs her husband up. The wife types in how much weight she wants to add to her husband. She wants to add a whopping 650lbs to her husband’s weight.
Fast forward a few weeks and the husband and wife are sitting with the specialist. The husband doesn’t know that her wife filled an enormous amount of weight. Hes a lil lazy and stupid so hes fine with whatever weight she picked right?!? Anyways, the specialist hands out the form.The form that needs to be signed consist of a lot of pages. He doesn’t take the effort to read it. The clinic specialist walks the couple to a big white room. It almost looks like an operating room. On the left side of the room is a large one sided see through window. Only the specialist and the wife can see whats going on inside. The specialist leads the husband to his feeding chair. Its automatically adjustable with the amount of weight gained. The husband gets strapped automatically by the chair and the specialist and wife walk to the next room to watch behind the glass. Both the specialist and the wife know that the husband didn’t look at the weight. But they don’t really care. They want to see him fattened up.
A hose starts dropping down from the ceiling. It straps to the husbands mouth.
Specialist: this should only take about 5 minutes…
Wife: Really?! Only five minutes.
The flow of calorie dense liquid foods start to flow. Its a quick stream of all kinds of tastes. Immediately the pressure starts to build up. The slurry pushing into his gut. After about thirty seconds a beach ball sized belly starts to appear. The husband wants to quit but, he hasn’t read the form. One rule clearly states that the subject must remain strapped and fed until the procedure is done.
The belly growls and gurgles violently with the constant flow of calories. His belly and rolls quickly pushing outwards. Every gulp feeling like a full three course meal.
3 minutes have passed. His belly is enormous. The specialist and wife are enjoying themselves. Being able to see him grow with every gulp. The fat has pushed itself outwards immensely creating multiple rolls across his whole body. Accept for his evergrowing belly being stuffed to the brim. He can only hope that the procedure will stop.
Finally its over. His wife rushes towards him hugging his big rolls. He can barely stand. Nearly unable to take a step. The procedure was a big success.
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peekofhistory · 4 months ago
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I got a few responses from my last post that people were interested in my experience learning to play/make the Guqin, so I'll add those posts in to my Hanfu posts :D
History The Guqin (古琴)is a very ancient and important instrument in Chinese history. Originally it was simply called "Qin" but later on "Qin" also became used for other instruments such as piano (gangqin/钢琴), violin (xiaotiqin/小提琴), etc. so "Gu" was added to the beginning ("Gu" means historical/very old/ancient).
The earliest form of Guqin comes from the Warring States period about 2500 years ago, although some records indicate the instrument existed even earlier. There is a saying in Chinese, "君子六艺", meaning the six skills all 'gentlemen' must learn under Confucian teachings. This included the Guqin (kind of like how everyone needs to learn English, math, science in school today).
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Warrings States Guqin
Because of how the Guqin is played, there is a belief that the emotions of the player will affect their playing. In addition, those who are familiar with Guqin can listen to a piece and know the emotional state of the musician. There are many stories surrounding this instrument that has garnered it a lot of cultural and historical value to the Chinese civilization. China chose to put the famous Guqin piece, "Flowing Water"(流水) in the Voyager Golden Record sent to space by NASA in 1977 because of its cultural significance.
Styles + parts The Guqin is a slender instrument. Modern-day Guqin has 7 strings that are plucked to create sound. Above the strings is a set of 13 dots called "hui"(徽), these indicate where the left hand plays.
The instrument is made from 2 pieces of wood, the top portion has a slight upward curve that represents the Heavens (no religions connotation), and the bottom board is flat representing the Earth (historically, people though the Earth was flat). A standard Guqin is 3 "chi/尺" 6.5 "cun/寸" which is approximately 125cm, representing the 365 days of the year (this length can vary, however), and the 13 "hui/徽" represents the 13 months (of the lunar calendar).
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There are many styles of Guqin, each with its own unique name. Guqin owners will sometimes name their Guqin and carve it into the bottom. It's also common for owners of famous Guqin to carve a line or two of poetry on the bottom of the Guqin. Currently, the most commonly found and classical style of Guqin is "Zhongni/仲尼" (which was also the courtesy name of Confucius, marking its significance).
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Guqin with names and poetry carved into the bottom
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Score Traditional Guqin score gave no indication of rhythm or tempo. It was purely a score to indicate finger positions and stroke technique. Students learned the overall rhythm of a piece from their teacher.
The Guqin score takes parts of Chinese characters to indicate which string is to be played, by which hand, using which finger, etc. Because of this, the score is called "jianzipu/减字谱" meaning simplified characters score.
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Traditional Guqin score
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Modern day Guqin score
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How to read Guqin score Pic 1: Blue - Right hand only (散音) Orange - 6th string (六弦) Green - Right forefinger flick outwards (挑)
Pic 2: Blue - Right hand only Orange - 7th string (七弦) Green - Right forefinger flick outwards Pic 3: Blue - Left hand ring finger slide up to the 10th "hui" (dot) (无名指上十徽) Orange - 5th string (五弦) Green - Right middle finger pluck towards yourself (勾)
Pic 4: Green - Right hand pluck 2 strings at the same time (拨) Orange - 7th and 6th strings (七弦,六弦) Blue - Left thumb slide up to 7.6 "hui" on the 7th string, no left hand for 6th string
Pic 5: Green - Right hand flight+pluck 2 strings at same time (小撮) Orange - 7th and 5th strings (七弦,五弦) Blue - Left thumb press down 7th string at 9th "hui", no left hand for 5th string
My brain is a giant ball of confusion the first dozen times I play a a section as it tries to figure out all this information and relay it to my fingers xDD
Sound There are 3 types of sounds students learn when playing the Guqin:
1) Sanyin (散音) Only the right hand is used to pluck/flick the string
2) Fanyin (泛音) The right hand plucks/flicks the string while the left hand gently taps the string at the indicated "hui (徽)"
3) Anyin/Zouyin (按音/走音) The right hand plucks/flicks the string while the left hand presses down the string at the indicated "hui". To make the sound smoother, the string is pressed down slightly above/below the hui then slides up/down the string to the indicated hui creating a very unique sound to the Guqin
Guqin's tone tends to be in the lower range, its pieces are generally slow-paced. The instrument is quite soft, historically used for personal enjoyment or played in a small gathering of close friends, and not meant for large performances. The Guqin is often played as a solo instrument, or with the Chinese flute (dizi/笛子), rather than in large orchestras as its soft sound can be easily overpowered. Today, Guqin performances use microphones for amplification.
Guqin vs. Guzheng Many people confuse the Guqin and Guzheng. The two instruments share some similarities but vary greatly in appearance and sound.
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Shape: Guqin: wider at the head (right hand side) and narrows towards the feet. Guzheng: rectangular
Strings: Guqin: 7 Guzheng: 22 strings (usually)
Sound: Guqin: lower octaves (unless playing fanyin), softer, more suitable for solo playing Guzheng: higher octaves, louder, more suitable for large performances
Bridge: Guqin: near the head of the instrument, unmoveable Guzheng: usually placed diagonally mid-instrument, can be moved
In some Chinese period dramas, they will use the Guzheng to dub for Guqin because given it's louder capabilities it's easier to record (but if you're familiar with the two instruments it's easy to tell them apart by ear).
My experience with Guqin I first learned of the Guqin when I was around 8-9 years old, through a Chinese TV series called Romance of the Three Kingdoms (lol, I keep mentioning this series, but I really do love it a lot).
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I purchased my first Guqin at the end of 2019, but only managed a few classes before a certain pandemic hit. Because of this, I stopped my classes (my city didn't have any Guqin teachers, I had to drive 3 hrs one way to see her and during lockdown it was just too difficult). I tried to pick it up again a few years later but failed.
Currently, on my trip in China, I came across a Guqin workshop that was offering classes on how to play and make Guqin. The tuition includes room and meals. The workshop is in the rural countryside, no shopping malls, no city chaos, and I thought this was the perfect opportunity to learn Guqin.
I've only been here for about a week but so far the experience has been wonderful. There are only 2 other students besides me (the teacher is only accepting 3 students maximum), we all live here. Upstairs is our living area (the teacher doesn't live here), we get up at 7am, eat breakfast at 8am, practice Guqin, have lunch, then make Guqin in the afternoon. Sometimes the teacher takes us to meet other Guqin teachers/makers in the area. Everyone has dozens of Qin in their residences, we literally go in, pick up and Qin, and start playing.
Yesterday, our teacher took us to a Guqin workshop on a small mountain. I later learned the mountain is actually a tomb of a duke/marquis from the Han Dynasty. I also learned people will actually make Guqin out of coffin lumber (like, grave rob a tomb, break down the coffin, and sell the wood)…so if you want to purchase a Guqin and the shop owner tells you a particular Qin is made from lumber that's a thousand years old…you should think hard about HOW they got lumber that old O.O;; Luckily for me, my teacher refuses to let coffin wood into his workshop, he says it has bad energy.
Anyway, here's a short video of my Guqin-making progress so far :D
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keozrb · 24 days ago
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Beach Gods - EXTRA Simon’s Sex God
Some Extra AI Image from Beach Gods Simon’s story that i didn't end up using and Here’s a detailed description of Simon’s transformation after he slips into the oversized purple Speedo briefs in the costume shop dressing room:
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As Simon stood in the dimly lit dressing room, the shimmering purple Speedo sagging around his lanky, unimpressive frame, a sharp, electric jolt sparked at his core. It wasn’t the fiery surge of Milo’s transformation or the fluid wash of Harold’s—this was a pulsing, sensual energy that tingled through his nerves like a lover’s touch. His breath caught, his hands trembling as the sensation spread, and his reflection in the cracked mirror began to warp as the transformation took hold.
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It began with his face, the feature he’d always hidden behind books and hunched shoulders. His crooked nose twitched, then straightened, smoothing into a refined, elegant curve that balanced his features perfectly. His jawline, once soft and undefined, tightened and sharpened, chiseling into a strong, square frame that exuded a rugged charm. His thinning, mousy brown hair thickened, strands multiplying and darkening into a rich chestnut hue, cascading in soft, tousled waves that fell just above his shoulders, framing his face like a natural crown. His dull hazel eyes flared, shifting to a vivid, piercing green that seemed to glow with an inner fire, while his thin lips plumped into a fuller, sensual curve, settling into a subtle, confident smirk. His skin smoothed, blemishes fading as it took on a warm, golden tan, giving him a radiant, sun-kissed glow.
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The transformation flowed downward, reshaping his body with a sleek, deliberate grace. His narrow shoulders broadened just enough, rolling back to erase his habitual slouch, while his flat chest filled out into a smooth, toned expanse—not bulky, but firm and defined, with pectorals that hinted at strength without excess. His arms, once spindly, gained a wiry, lean musculature, veins faintly tracing beneath the skin as his biceps and forearms took on a subtle, sculpted look. His torso tapered into a trim waist, abs tightening into a faint outline—not a chiseled six-pack, but a lean, functional core that complemented his newfound allure.
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Then came the dramatic shift. A rush of heat surged into his groin, and his manhood responded with an exaggerated, almost theatrical growth. His dick lengthened and thickened, pulsing as it swelled beyond any natural proportion, while his balls grew to match, heavy and prominent. The purple Speedo stretched taut over the massive bulge, the fabric straining to contain the over-the-top size, creating a bold, unmissable outline that dominated his lower half. The growth was so pronounced it shifted his stance slightly, hips adjusting to balance the weight, turning his once-modest presence into something undeniably striking.
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Simultaneously, his backside began to change. His flat, bony glutes tightened, then ballooned outward with a rapid, sensual swell. The muscle fibers beneath hardened, but the growth didn’t stop there—his ass expanded into huge, round cheeks, firm yet plush, each one sculpted to perfection. The Speedo’s rear stretched to its limit, the fabric riding up between the massive globes, transforming the briefs into a thong-like fit that hugged the curves tightly, accentuating every inch of his new, eye-catching posterior. His hips widened slightly to support the exaggerated proportions, giving him a statuesque, almost hourglass silhouette.
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His height crept upward, bones stretching with a soft crackle until he stood at a confident 6’1”. His legs lengthened and toned, thighs and calves gaining just enough lean muscle to match his refined physique, while his feet grew slightly broader to anchor his new stance. His posture shifted, shoulders squaring, chest lifting, as the shy slouch he’d carried for years melted away, replaced by a natural, commanding presence.
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When the transformation ceased, Simon exhaled shakily, his hands roaming his new form in disbelief. He traced his chiseled jaw, ran fingers through his thick hair, then down to his toned chest, pausing at the absurdly exaggerated bulge and massive, rounded ass. The mirror reflected a man he didn’t recognize—handsome, magnetic, and dripping with allure. The purple Speedo, once loose and laughable, now clung to him like a second skin, highlighting every curve and contour of his transformed body. His green eyes locked onto his reflection, and for the first time, he didn’t look away—he stared, captivated by the Sex God he’d become, born from a single, daring choice in a dusty shop.
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monotonedongs · 2 months ago
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I have been watching your work for some time now and I am very pleased with each of your works! I would like to ask if you are going to give a "cygate child" (I think you can call it that?) any name? Are you going to come up with a great story for this idea or not? (although even these small works are very interesting!) Thank you in advance for your reply!
Hey and thank you for your ask and your compliments - it always makes me happy that the things I doodle can entertain someone else. This is going to be a little wall of text, oops. There is a set of doodles at the end!
It's extra funny when it all started as a joke after me and my friend saw the Cyclonus funko and went wow. And I thought it was funny they gave him blue??? optics for some reason? So I was gripped with the inspiration to draw that silly meme about "9 months in the womb and they look like their mum". And it all snowballed from there.
To be honest, I do wish to give the Cygate child a name; funnily enough I was talking to my friend about this yesterday before you sent me this ask... Names are hard. I was brainstorming a few, where wind is honestly the biggest reoccurring theme. So far I have;
Aerostorm - Aero means wind.
Bora - Bora is the name of a specific wind, but also a specific model of car! So both Cyclonus and Tailgate in there I suppose. :] Could alternatively end up as Borae just for the flow of the name. HOWEVER Springer is apparently known as Bora in Italian!
Stormsurge - Because stormsurges follow cyclones. :]
Derecho - A widespread, long-lived, straight-line wind storm, causing hurricane-force winds, heavy rains, and flash floods.
Microburst - Another wind-related one, a strong downward and outward gushing wind that comes from above. Also a play on how the sparkling originally was very small when they emerged, but as they grow they turn out quite large...
The list might not be complete and I need to marinate it in my mind a bit <:] THEY HAVE BEEN NAMED! See this post
For a story - I am not a writer, and most of the time I am talking my friend's ear full about this hsdfgdf but I do have some basic ideas while a lot is still a bit up in the air, I suppose. Some of this is also based on the info from MTMTE/LL so possible spoilers if you haven't read the comics!
This sparkling is an accident.
Tailgate nor Cyclonus didn't really think this was possible since they are old by most of the other mechs' standards, Tailgate having gone through cybercrosis and Cyclonus having been for lengths in the Dead Universe. No way their bodies would have such resources to start creating anything like that. But maybe the fact that Cyclonus donated some of his spark energy to Tailgate made it a very small possibility that wouldn't have been able to happen otherwise because of the state of their history.
Despite my initial meme drawing, I think Cyclonus would be the one who ended up sparked because he is larger and seems to have a more fancy build. His body just happens to have more resources to deal with building something inside it. I don't really picture them changing shapes when sparked, but having some kind of dedicated spot/mechanism to build a sparkling.
Therefore there is even less hints to what is happening below the outer plating. I haven't quite decided/figured it out but: - either they find out when Cyclonus ends up getting some strange pains and/or commands trying to activate that he is not familiar with - and then bam congrats to the parents!!! Cue very baffled and surprised Cyclonus and Tailgate trying to process what just happened while this very tiny thing is going through their start up tests. - or Tailgate/Cyclonus randomly notices this new, odd EM-field/communication connection when the sparkling has developed enough to be able to emit EM-fields and/or connect with means of communication somehow. Again cue very baffled and surprised Cygate and then having to drag Ratchet into the whole ordeal to see what is going on.
Despite being an oopsie sparkling and a big surprise to everyone, they are much loved and both Tailgate and Cyclonus are very happy and proud despite this not being something they had envisioned or planned for. They will take the challenges as they come.
The sparkling emerges soooo small. As their frame grows though they quickly gain mass and get quite large, maybe even larger than Cyclonus? My friend suggested maybe they end up a shuttle-class despite their alt-mode being a jet/plane or so after Cyclonus. Whirl is the extremely ecstatic uncle, even if he finds the sparkling very aesthetically displeasing he has a lot of love for this thing that Cyclonus and Tailgate somehow morbidly made, despite that Whirl would never imagine them being somehow compatible like that. He is an important part of the family and helps raising the sparkling, keeping them safe from anyone he deems scary and letting nobody insult them because only he can do that, teaching them curse words, having fun and enjoying life.
I have not settled on if this happens during the whole Lost Light travel/while onboard the Lost Light, or if this happens after they all part and Cygate lives in Upper Tetrahex. Lost Light would be fun for plot/comedic idea reasons, but also so stressful to most of the adults involved haha. Upper Tetrahex would probably be much more peaceful for both sparkling and adults, but less possibilities for comedic moments I suppose as most of their close friends beyond Whirl would be spread across Cybertron and such.
Anyways that was such a wall of text, I am not sure if I got down the basics of my thoughts but rounding this off with some doodles I did saturday night that builds on that idea of "unknown EM-field/com-port" thing.
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dokidokitsuna · 1 year ago
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Tragic Sky
(very long salty rant ahead (+new Alterna backstory, though! ^^;))
So I've always thought Alterna’s backstory, despite being presented as a grand mystery that’s definitely worth fighting through 90% of the missions to uncover in its entirety…was kinda stupid. :/ I’m all for humanity destroying itself for ridiculous reasons, but trying to launch a rocket in an enclosed space?? Are you serious…? o_O How could the Alternans devote such immense amounts of time and energy to something like that without once thinking, “hey, uh…burning metric tons of high-energy fuel inside of our flammable safety dome might be a little unsafe, idk”.
And it shouldn’t even have been necessary! DX I mean, if they were able to build a dome like that in the first place, wouldn’t they have some sort of scaffolding or elevator system they could use to reach the top and just literally climb out if they wanted to leave that badly?? Had Alterna existed for so long that the technology used to create it was lost to time (seeing as it’s implied that Alterna was destroyed by its SECOND generation, I doubt it)...?? Or, did the writers suddenly realize that coming up with pseudo-scientific lore that explains why inkfishes resemble humanity is wholly unnecessary and adds nothing to the themes of Splatoon…but it was too late to rework the concept, so they just finished off the story with whatever-the-heck and called it a day. ¯_(ツ)_/¯ I guess we’ll never know...
Anyway, my version of Alterna’s backstory starts with a similar premise: humans invented crystal thingies that can manifest people’s desires and whatnot…but this alone caused conflict that eventually doomed Alterna. People began to make their own interpretations of other people’s desires, judging and condemning them for how they manifested. They began treating the crystals’ reflections as compulsory measures of morality and worth, rather than simple expressions of the human heart that exist outside of a good/bad binary. Alterna’s leaders envisioned themselves creating a society of ‘pure truth’, free from the destructive power of deceit and subterfuge…all the while ignoring the destructive power of paranoia and exclusion that they immersed themselves in.
Exclusion escalated to oppression, which eventually spawned rebellion: plans were made to create a rocket that would allow a select group of ‘undesirables’ to escape Alterna for the surface world, destroying the integrity of their safe haven in the process. Despite not knowing what was waiting for them out there, they were willing to take the risk in the name of freedom. Eventually, this secret plan was revealed to the public, resulting in Alterna’s first and last civil war. As the Alternans began to fight and kill each other, the crystals were overwhelmed with the unprecedented ferocity of their clashing desires-- “a violent and terrible chain reaction ensued”, and the energy within them exploded outward. The sky dome, still filled with the beautiful blue of the peoples’ wishes for peace and happiness, came crumbling down, raining fire and shrapnel upon Alterna. The still-poisoned air of the outside world flowed freely into the cavern, ensuring the eventual death of anyone who might have survived.
…Then the crystals fell in the ocean, the sea creatures were imbued with human hopes and dreams, yadda yadda, all that’s basically the same as the canon too. And although I still think it’s unneeded (the mere concept of a bygone humanity in Splatoon carries plenty of weight without all this “lore”, imo), at least now the story isn’t stupid!
It speaks to the way humans actually treat each other, and blames their downfall on their long-established bad habits of cruelty and callousness, rather than morally-neutral traits like ambition and pursuit of the unknown (I would never have expected “curiosity killed the cat” as the lesson of the day from Splatoon, of all franchises. o_O This IS the same game that celebrates individual expression and forging your own path, right…?)
Anyway…I’m gonna be using elements of this rewritten backstory and the theme of “manifesting desires” to flesh out the final boss encounter and Agent 3’s subtle character arc. So please look forward to that~
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literaryvein-reblogs · 8 months ago
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Writing Notes: The Fool's Journey
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The Fool’s Journey is the archetypal story told by the Major Arcana of the Tarot.
Use the Fool’s Journey for inspiration and brainstorming, rather than for developing a plot or outlining.
It’s far more powerful for suggesting solutions than for suggesting structure (as is true for Tarot in general).
As a writer, the Fool’s Journey can help you:
Pinpoint the emotions your character should be feeling at each story stage,
Find the next step for a character stuck at a particular stage,
Create conflict appropriate to each story stage,
Access archetypal images and symbols to add depth to your story,
Troubleshoot problems caused by your character skipping a vital story stage,
Assess your own progress as a writer.
The ‘Fool’s Journey’ is the term coined by Eden Gray to describe the story of the Major Arcana of the Tarot.
USING THE FOOL'S JOURNEY
Possible pitfalls - useful for adding conflict to your story;
Feelings in life - the things that might be going through your character’s head,
Outward signs - external events of objects that can represent that stage of the story.
TROUBLESHOOTING
If your story is lacking conflict, find the card which best represents your character and use the “pitfalls” list as a starting point.
If you aren’t sure what your character is thinking at a certain point in the story, find their corresponding card and explore the “feelings” list.
If you need more events in your story that relate to the current stage it’s in, find the corresponding card and brainstorm ideas using the “signs” list.
If you don’t know what your character should do next, find which card their current state corresponds to, and use the exercises to brainstorm scenes for the next card.
If you need the influence of a particular card in your story, consider creating a character who fulfills those functions and makes use of similar symbols.
THE FOOL'S JOURNEY: 22 Cards
0. The Wandering Fool
The hero of the Major Arcana
How is your hero a wise fool?
How will this symbol gain new meaning when the hero returns home after their long journey?
1. The Magician
The Magician uses the way of the intellect to uncover spiritual secrets; he is an active seeker of knowledge and clarity. 
Who is the initiator of your character’s current way of life?
Does your character tend more towards the empirical or the mystical? What conflict does this dichotomy cause them?
Outward signs: A juggler, conjurer or magician, an adept, a bookworm.
Possible pitfalls: Megalomania, being a charlatan, omnipotence.
Feeling in life: Tapping into huge reserves of power, feeling in charge, confidence, a Faustian thirst for knowledge.
2. The High Priestess
The feminine counterpart of the Magician; she represents the mystical path to spirituality as opposed to the intellectual.
Her approach is passive, inwardly-directed, and in no way inferior or less effective to that of the Magician.
What is the character open to and expectant of?
Outward signs: Loss of consciousness, waiting, turning the other cheek, taking part in a ritual, allowing oneself to be guided blindly.
Possible pitfalls: Escapism, doubt, indecisiveness.
Feeling in life: Letting go, trust in the universe, inspiration, feeling loved, peace, going with the flow.
3. The Empress
The power of nature, as opposed to the Emperor, who represents the man-made or artificial.
She can be a source of abundance, creativity, nourishment, and life but at the same time, she can bring about the destructive forces of natural disasters.
How does your character embrace life?
Are they in tune with nature?
Outward signs: A feast, a mother, an artist, going shopping.
Possible pitfalls: Uncontrolled growth, changeableness, inconsistency.
Feeling in life: Creative flow, feeling alive, understanding the cycles of life, belief in abundance.
4. The Emperor
As the Father figure, he is the source of authority and responsibility.
While he may at times seem overbearing or critical, he provides the disciplining influence which is the essence of all learning and spirituality.
How does your character approach their responsibilities?
How do they struggle with discipline or authority?
Outward signs: An authority figure, being told to try harder, being given a routine or schedule, being drafted, a (verbal or physical) beating.
Possible pitfalls: Obstinacy, perfectionism, strictness, hard heartedness.
Feeling in life: To be aware of responsibilities, being cruel to be kind, a realistic outlook, seriousness, being given constructive criticism.
5. The Hierophant
The teacher of religious mysteries and the first suggestion of the underworld of adventure.
The hero must travel through both the (conscious) visible world, and the (unconscious) hidden world to find what is essential.
What character might work as a Hierophant to urge your character to discover the world that they’re ignoring?
What is visible in the character’s world? What is hidden?
Outward signs: A truth-teller, a blunder, an invitation.
Possible pitfalls: Hyposcrisy, world-weariness, “guru-ism”.
Feeling in life: Faith in the divine, profound experiences.
6. The Lovers
Having realised that there is a world beyond that which they had conceived, the hero must now decide whether or not to leave home and hearth and search for it (in the visible or invisible world).
The hero makes this decision with a light, pure heart, and with the best intentions.
This card depicts a pair of lovers because even after the teachings of the Hierophant, love is the ultimate driving force that allows us to make a change.
How does the experience of love force the character to make a choice between their current life and the life they might have?
How do they describe the choice to themselves? Are they accurate?
What are they afraid of leaving behind? How does their desire outweigh this fear?
Outward signs: An object of desire, arguments with parents or guardians.
Possible pitfalls: Intemperance, excessive joy.
Feeling in life: Butterflies, fearless decisiveness.
7. The Chariot
The decision made in the Lovers card has spurred the hero on to leave his home and set off in search of adventure.
Represents the pull of opposites.
What are some signs or symbols that the character has been chosen as the hero of the story?
How does the character set off on the adventure? What spurs them on?
How does the character struggle to keep their two steeds in check?
Outward signs: A new form, or clothing symbolic of a new function; provision of a vehicle; setting out on a journey.
Possible pitfalls: Arrogance, impulsiveness, intemperance.
Feeling in life: Optimism; desire for motion; being poised; increasing awareness; maturity; the first, intoxicating phase of the road trip, before reality begins to leak back in.
8. Justice
Marks the point of separation with the ordinary world.
This is when the hero reaches the first crossing.
The figure of Justice represents the old laws the hero is leaving behind and the new laws (of the new world) that are drawing them into their power.
The character must be ready and willing to take on responsibility, but unlike the choice of the Lovers card, Justice, with her prominent right foot, represents a more considered, rational approach.
What are the rules of the old/ordinary world that the character is leaving behind?
What are the rules of the new/adventure world? How do they differ? How do these differences cause problems for the character?
What responsibilities must the character take on? How do they feel about it?
Outward signs: Lifting the sword of power, training montage, a schedule/roster/plan of action.
Possible pitfalls: Being a know-it-all, prejudice, slyness, overconfidence.
Feeling in life: Fairness to others, making intelligent decisions, just rewards.
9. The Hermit
With the single digit cards ends the Fool’s sojourn in the realms of light.
From now on they are in the dark underworld of adventure.
This is the beginning of the inward journey, and for this reason requires some solitary reflection.
They’ve travelled a long way from The Fool card, where the mountains on the summit of which the Hermit now stands, were far in the distance.
Can also appear as another person, often a Helper, who provides the character with a protective talisman for their crossing.
This is also where the character learns their true name. It may be part of the revelation of the heavenly parents, who are often kept secret from the hero. 
How and where does the character seek peace and quiet?
How are they provided with a talisman for the journey ahead?
How does the character discover their true name? What does it mean to them?
What does this period of solitary reflection reveal to the character?
Outward signs: A hideaway/den/nook, a protective figure, a symbolic gift.
Possible pitfalls: Strangeness, feeling like an outsider, being too concerned with the other world, disenchantment.
Feeling in life: Clarity, inner peace, standing up for yourself, finding yourself.
10. The Wheel of Fortune
The card that clarifies the character’s goal.
What is the character seeking?
What are the weaknesses they must improve before they can reach a resolution?
What figure symbolises this weakness in the character? How does their interaction highlight this weakness?
Outward signs: Missing treasure, a nemesis/enemy/shapeshifter.
Possible pitfalls: Fatalism, misunderstanding your life’s purpose.
Feeling in life: Unpleasant learning experiences, resistance.
11. Strength
Brings the character face to face with their first true test of inner strength.
It follows on from the Wheel of Fortune by applying pressure to the character’s weak points.
The character must “tame the beast within”, accept their shadow side, and welcome their anima or animus.
What happens to try the character’s weakness and test their strength?
What is the shadow side that they need to accept? Why is it difficult for them to do so?
Outward signs: A spirit animal, a wild animal needing to be tamed, another character who is in some respects the hero’s opposite.
Possible pitfalls: Pride, a hardened heart, mercilessness.
Feeling in life: Living life to the full, a passionate attachment to life, showing your claws when necessary.
12. The Hanged Man
This card represents an existential crisis.
This is when the character questions the purpose they took on in the Wheel of Fortune, and in fact, the whole journey up to this point.
While unity lies at the motionless centre of the wheel, and the struggle of daily life on the outside, the character stuck in this stage is the hamster running along the inner surface of the wheel. 
Their whole experience of life is turned upside down, and until their perspective shifts to match their experience, they will be kept suspended.
What causes the character to question their purpose or their way of life?
What mistakes does the character keep repeating?
Outward signs: Something or someone hung, or held upside down, a revolution.
Possible pitfalls: Being caught in a vicious cycle, getting “hung up”.
Feeling in life: Repeating experiences like a broken record, mid-life crisis, inability to get out of your own way, having your patience tested.
13. Death
Death is a card that engenders fear, and the sooner the character learns to accept that fear instead of spending all of their energies trying to avoid the inevitable, the better (at least for them, perhaps not for story tension).
Death requires something to be left behind.
While this will feel like a hard sacrifice for the character, they will never make it while they’re carrying around “dead weight.”
What is the sacrifice the character must make?
Why is it impossible for the story to continue until this sacrifice is made?
How does the character try to avoid this sacrifice?
What are the consequences of the transformation brought by Death?
Outward signs: Bones, corpses, a wasteland, katabasis.
Possible pitfalls: Dying of fear, collapse.
Feeling in life: Ending, the search for peace and renewal, leave taking.
14. Temperance
Between the violence of Death and the Devil, stands the serene figure of Temperance. 
The challenge of Temperance is to find a middle ground between being dead to physical existence (Death) and being chained to it (Devil) by our vices or excessive passions.
This is the key to making it out of the underworld alive.
Who or what guides the character through the (real or imagined) underworld?
How does the character tread the middle path after the loss they suffered in Death?
Outward signs: A guide, a light in darkness, unnatural stillness.
Possible pitfalls: Following false influences, ordinariness.
Feeling in life: Being forcibly dragged along, conformity, level-headedness, health.
15. The Devil
Represents the dark side of the anima/animus, as depicted by the chained lovers.
Often this manifests in a way that entices the character to act in complete contradiction to their deepest values.
For example, killing to save lives, lying to appear honest, torturing people into believing in a merciful deity, etc.
What aspects of their shadow self has the character been suppressing?
What enslaves the character?
How does the character betray all that they have been striving for?
Outward signs: Taking up arms to keep the peace, using the people you love for base gains, a scandal, a seducer.
Possible pitfalls: Being enslaved by the shadow side, leaving the true path, intemperance, lust, power struggles.
Feeling in life: Slavery, addiction, being taken captive, being seduced, doing things you don’t want to do, betraying yourself.
16. The Tower
The destruction of the Tower is the sign that the old world has become too confining. 
The stage at which the character can show a side of themselves that no one would have suspected existed.
It is the sign that you can achieve the unthinkable.
What ideas are limiting the character’s view of the whole?
How can the character destroy these ideas in the most sudden, violent way possible?
How do others react to seeing the character’s hidden (and unsuspected) side?
Outward signs: An explosion, a breakthrough, the revelation of a new self, becoming visible.
Possible pitfalls: Defeat, collapse.
Feeling in life: Chaos, insecurity, surprise changes, escape.
17. The Star
Now we come to the 3 cards that represent a gradual lightening and emergence from the underworld: the Star, the Moon and the Sun.
The worst is now behind our hero, although their work isn’t done.
The Star is there to guide them to the next stage.
How does the character rejuvenate after their hard work in the Tower?
What abundant provisions do they enjoy?
How do they adjust to their new freedom of the world-view that was destroyed in the Tower?
Outward signs: A guiding light in the dark, a safe place to make camp, finding fresh provisions after a long journey.
Possible pitfalls: Forgetting the present while focusing on the future, being lost in daydreams, becoming complacent.
Feeling in life: Trust for the future, rejuvenation, youth.
18. The Moon
Represents a strange, changeable landscape that can easily confuse and trap the hero. 
Although the character has triumphed, they must still navigate the dangerous return journey back to the ordinary world.
The hero must extricate themselves from the temptations of the underworld, return to the world of the living and bring with them the elixir of life, if they are to succeed fully.
The Moon is the greatest threat to losing their true name, but to characters who are prepared and who are adept at traversing their inner landscape, it is also the greatest opportunity.
This is the test of whether a character is truly the master of two worlds, and can cross and recross the treacherous threshold.
How is the return journey different to the outward journey?
How do past landmarks take on new meaning and new danger?
What are the temptations that make the character want to stay instead of returning home?
Outward signs: A changing landscape, a narrow gateway, a difficult crossing.
Possible pitfalls: Being lost in the enchanted forest, losing sight of the destination, becoming enslaved by fear.
Feeling in life: Anger, frustration, mistrust, nightmares, fears, longing.
19. The Sun
The stage at which the character finally leaves the underworld of adventure and returns to the light, ordinary world. 
Looking back from this vantage point, the character realises that the enormous difficulties they just wrestled with actually boil down to a simple solution; that they would have triumphed much sooner had they not complicated the problem.
Now their task is to begin readjusting to the ordinary world, and reconciling the change in their inner world to the lack of change in the outer world.
How does the character re-emerge into the ordinary world?
How has the character changed, and how has the world stayed the same?
How does this cause conflict for the character and their allies?
Outward signs: Blinking against the light, waking up, watching the sun rise.
Possible pitfalls: Clichés.
Feeling in life: Feeling carefree, freedom, joie de vivre, lightness, fun, enjoyment.
20. Judgement
The Judgement card represents a final test of the character’s worthiness to be the bearer of the elixir of life.
If, by some chance, a false hero has managed to come this far, this is the stage at which they will be discovered and sent back to the underworld.
On the other hand, for the true hero, Judgement brings resurrection; a revitalising influence that is the final, freeing reward of their long journey.
What is the final test the character must undergo to prove their worthiness?
Why is the test easy for worthy characters to pass?
How can unworthy characters be discovered and punished?
Outward signs: Being reunited with loved ones, a return to life and vitality, verdure returning to a barren land, an arrest, a trial, a condemnation, an execution.
Possible pitfalls: To fail at cheating (for the unworthy hero).
Feeling in life: Feeling free and at peace.
21. The World
Is the resolution of the readjustment brought about in the crisis of the Hanged Man.
Brings unity to the opposites that have been battling for supremacy over the hero throughout their journey: dark & light, good & bad, action & inaction, male & female.
This isn’t because the world is suddenly free of strife, but because the character has accepted and dealt with both sides of the duality and thus earned freedom from them.
However temporary this freedom might be…
How does the World give the character the ability to disseminate their wisdom (or the “elixir of life”) far and wide?
What makes the unity of the World fragile? What might urge the character into another Fool’s Journey (and give you an opportunity for a sequel)?
Outward signs: A coronation, a homecoming, something in perfect balance.
Possible pitfalls: None.
Feeling in life: Joy, profound satisfaction, a feeling of finally being home.
NOTES
One final revelation about The Fool’s Journey, and indeed about any archetypal journey, is that their writers insist that certain stages of the story need to be taken in the prescribed order.
A character can’t skip building the ego during the “daytime” arc without facing the later consequences: material lack in the ordinary world and possibly ostracism.
Furthermore, an underdeveloped ego is not as great a challenge to abandon in the underworld, and whenever the sacrifice is small, so is the subsequent reward.
Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More Writing Notes: On Tarot ⚜ Notes & References
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cassieoz · 8 months ago
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Cry Of Duty
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Grant lowered himself into the bubbly water and breathed heavily. His core was twisting violently with strong surges. The flow of warm water around him temporarily distracted him from the constancy of the contractions. Grant reached onto the side of the large birthing pool and continued to pant frantically.
The surrogate had been woken two hours earlier by sharp, intense pains in his rear passage. Grant had been working all day but retreated early due to his exhausted state. He was very overdue with a gigantic egg that should have come two weeks earlier. The alien community was growing impatient for news about their latest egg delivery. Grant was known as a reliable birther so they allowed him extra time to go into labour naturally.
Grant squeezed the side pillows as the latest contraction built with tremendous pressure. He had a history of short but powerful labours. This egg pumped hard in his birth passage as he desperately tried to become comfortable. As the tension increased, frantic panting turned into loud moaning. The warm, bubbling water helped to ease some of the aching in his lower pelvis.
The atmosphere was calming. The private birthing suite had everything for the perfect delivery. Grant had a special designer create the ideal delivery suite. The alien contact had insisted on total secrecy for their program. Grant had eagerly agreed to all the conditions. His wealthy lifestyle supported this role perfectly and Grant enjoyed it immensely.
The birther spread his legs wider as the egg now pulsated down hard as the powerful peak erupted against his rear muscles. Grant grunted out loudly and immediately pushed with a long, straining effort. He leant further forward and squeezed his eyes shut. The pain surged strongly as he panted and bore down harder with a more louder push! The contraction powered on until Grant felt it release its terrible grip on his pregnant form. The expecting surrogate sighed out, clutching a towel and wiping the beads of sweat from his face and neck.
Two agonising hours later, Grant was in full, active labour. The egg was pulsing aggressively against his crowning opening. The heaviness was overwhelming. The contractions were extremely savage and relentless. The birther was desperate to find the correct position with each new push. Grant blow out rapid breaths between strong, growling efforts. His body was convulsing wildly as he began to experience full crowning. His vision became blurry as he clutched into the side bars at the end of the pool. His legs was spread and his feet were resting on two steps, especially designed for the delivery stage.
The pain was excruciating. His entire torso was drenched with sweat as he bore down, releasing intense screams until he knew it was finally time to give birth. Grant held tighter onto the metal bars and panted faster and harder as the birthing surge took hold. The egg pounded down as his rear muscles throbbed in total agony. As the peak took over, Grant howled and pushed! He flexed all his strength and give into the need to birth. Trembling, he shook madly as his pushing vibrated through his entire core. The birther grunted louder and longer, thrusting the egg forward and outwards. Panting between efforts, the brutal contraction continued to peak. More loud grunting filled the room as more of the egg merged. The expectant volunteer knew what was coming. With wider legs, he leant forward and succumbed to his inevitable fate.
The egg drummed with painful consistency as the birther pushed and strained with all his remaining control. Suddenly, the most powerful pressure overwhelmed Grant. Holding on with all his physical stamina, the birth surge slammed with full force.
Howling out, the surrogate lost all control as the egg erupted through his rear entrance with severe power. Pushing wildly, the birther convulsed and screamed out the pain of delivery. The explosion of birth came as Grant roared at the top of his lungs. The first eruption forced the egg to a full, thrusting crown. With seconds, a second and most savage explosion brought the tremendously large egg to half way out his rear entrance. Tears flowed down his face as he couldn't contain his cries of agony.
"Get out! Oh I need it out! Help me! Get out RIGHT NOW!"
Grant's insane words of suffering echoed around the suite until finally one last deafening push roared out the rest of egg. Spasming insanely, Grant screamed over and over again as he gave birth and climaxed together. It was the most painful, powerful birth he had ever experienced to date.
Several minutes later, the surrogate looked down and realised he had delivered the biggest egg ever for the alien community. The rare red and black striped egg glowed in the bottom of the bath.
Grant smiled and hoped he would be birthing again soon and with luck, another rare and gigantic egg!
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octaviapup1113 · 2 months ago
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Corrupting an Angel
She truly is beautiful. You couldn’t be more proud of your creation, the perfection of the angel you had poured your blood, sweat, and tears into over the past few days was unquestionable. Flowing locks of tightly curled chocolate brown hair kissed her soft pale shoulders, freckles spread across her entire body. As you put the final touches to your creation, a blazing halo forms and hangs over her head, casting airy shadows down her body. The ring of light is both too beautiful and too painful to look at for long, its beauty only matched by the wide snow-white wings which drape downwards from her back, slightly spread and showing off the pillowy feathers which you had adorned them with. You reached out to touch with quivering anticipation only for her to reach up and take your hand in hers, shaking her head quietly. “Please, mother. Don’t touch them, they’re not for mortal hands.”
You pause a moment, taken aback by the beauty of her voice even as she denies your embrace. The moment quickly passes, however, as rage begins to well in your heart. How dare she? You’re the sole reason she exists, her very reason for being, and she’s denying you your right as her creator? Your face twists into a scowl, causing her own expression to slip into an inquisitive glance. “Mother? Are you alright? You look flushed…” Her words break the dam which had been holding back your fury, your rage spilling outwards as you reach towards her, grabbing her by the throat. She squeaks out in protest, her eyes peering up to you pleadingly as you squeeze her vocal chords together, leaving her unable to protest as you glare down at her, your chest heaving as it fills with want and desire. You push her firmly onto her back, forcing her wings to splay out behind her or risk being crushed by her body, your firm grasp tightening a moment as you’re overcome with the pristine beauty of your creation’s wings. You loosen your grasp on her throat, your other hand reaching up to touch her wings. This time she doesn’t dare stop you, tears filling her eyes as your gaze voraciously devours her naked frame, the trembling fear of the poor thing below you filling you with an immense sense of power. You watch as her entire body seems to twitch every time your fingers glide over her wings, each gentle tug on one of her feathers causing a shuddering moan to rise from her throat. “M-Mother… please…” She begs, but you don’t pay her words any mind, simply continuing to enjoy yourself. Your breathing becomes shaky and shallow as you continue to grope her wings, the angel’s tears forming a pool beneath her head as she begins to utter prayers to the goddess whose name you invoked to create her. You don’t care, you let her have her petty comforts as you continue to exercise your right to what’s yours.
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w1w2 · 6 months ago
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Skating the Divide
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 - Shattered Trust | Part 4
Myoui Mina x Fem!Reader
Word Count: ca. 6k
Synopsis: On the ice, every move tells a story. For two skaters with opposing styles, the competition is more than just a test of skill. It’s a clash of worlds.
English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.
♡ Enjoy! ♡
The change came quietly, almost imperceptibly at first, like the slow thaw of winter giving way to spring. Mina and Y/N still had their moments, snapping at each other over missed cues, rolling their eyes at opposing suggestions, but the edge in their arguments had dulled. Where there had once been sharpness, there was now a playful undercurrent, a grudging acceptance of each other’s quirks.
Y/N had stopped bristling at Mina’s critiques, instead taking them as challenges to prove her wrong. Mina, in turn, began to loosen her grip on perfection, allowing room for Y/N’s creativity to weave its way into their routines. They weren’t perfect yet, but the progress they made felt tangible.
On the ice, their transformation was undeniable. The awkwardness of their early days, hesitant holds, clashing rhythms, had melted away. Each lift, each spin, each step became smoother, more synchronized, as if they were beginning to anticipate each other’s movements.
Y/N no longer worried about balancing Mina’s weight during lifts. She had grown attuned to every subtle shift in Mina’s movements, trusting her completely to make each lift seamless. And Mina no longer tensed when Y/N added a flourish to their transitions. She had learned to anticipate and complement Y/N’s creative instincts. What had once felt awkward and forced now came naturally, as if they had always been meant to skate together.
It wasn’t just the technical improvement that marked the shift. It was the way they moved, fluid, almost instinctive. The routine wasn’t just a performance anymore, it was a conversation. Y/N’s bright, expressive energy flowed into Mina’s poised, elegant control, creating something neither of them could have achieved alone.
But along with the harmony came something unexpected, something unspoken.
It was in the way Mina found herself watching Y/N during breaks, her gaze lingering on the way Y/N laughed at her own jokes, her eyes bright and full of life. It was in the way Y/N felt her chest flutter when Mina offered the faintest hint of a smile, rare but genuine, a glimpse of the person beneath the ice queen exterior.
Neither of them spoke about it, but it was there. In the quiet moments between practice runs, in the fleeting touches that lingered a second too long, in the way their eyes would meet and hold just a beat longer than necessary.
The air between them felt warmer now, charged with something neither of them dared to name. It wasn’t just trust or understanding, it was something more, something fragile and thrilling.
And even though neither of them would admit it, they both felt it.
It happened during one of their later practices, after hours of refining the intricate details of their routine. The lift they’d been working on was unconventional. It had taken weeks to perfect, and even then, it was risky. Mina, who was used to being in control, had hesitated at first, but she’d eventually conceded.
“Ready?” Y/N asked, her voice steady despite the strain she already felt in her arms from earlier attempts.
Mina nodded, her posture straight, her expression calm. “Ready.”
Y/N bent her knees slightly, bracing herself as Mina stepped into position. With a burst of strength, Y/N hoisted her partner into the air, her arms steadying Mina as they executed the move flawlessly. Mina stretched her arms outward, her form graceful as the lift held strong.
The landing was seamless, Mina’s skates touching the ice as lightly as a feather. For a moment, neither of them moved, the quiet hum of the rink filling the space.
Y/N realized too late that her hands were still on Mina’s waist, her grip firm but gentle, as though she wasn’t quite ready to let go.
“Good job,” Mina said, her voice softer than Y/N had ever heard it. It wasn’t her usual polished tone, there was something almost shy about it.
Y/N glanced at her, her breath catching when their eyes met. The intensity in Mina’s gaze was unexpected, and Y/N felt her cheeks flush despite herself.
“Thanks,” Y/N replied, her voice quieter than usual. Her hands lingered for a heartbeat longer before she finally let go, stepping back and letting out a shaky breath.
Mina didn’t move right away. She stood there, her hands brushing over her waist as if she could still feel Y/N’s touch. Then she cleared her throat, straightened her posture, and resumed her usual composed demeanor.
“Let’s go again,” Mina said, her tone firm but laced with an almost imperceptible warmth.
Y/N nodded, gripping the edges of her sleeves to hide the slight tremble in her hands. She told herself the flutter in her chest was from the adrenaline of the lift, from the physical effort it had taken. But no matter how many times she repeated it in her head, the memory of Mina’s quiet gaze and the warmth of her waist stayed with her.
Mina, for her part, didn’t glance back as she skated into position. But her mind lingered on the moment, on the steadiness of Y/N’s hands, the way it had felt to trust her, if only for a few seconds.
Later that evening, after the rink had emptied and the chill of the night crept in, Y/N and Mina sat side by side in the dim glow of the locker room’s small television. The screen flickered as they reviewed footage of their latest practice session, each movement replayed in painstaking detail.
Y/N leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, squinting at the screen. “See? That spin was perfect. Nailed it.”
Mina hummed softly, tilting her head. “Your arm was a little low on the entry.” She pointed at the screen with a graceful finger, her tone as composed as ever. “You need to keep it higher if you want the lift to look seamless.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N replied, waving a hand dismissively but with a playful grin. “Miss Perfection strikes again.”
Mina’s lips curved into a faint smile, and she shook her head slightly. “I’m just trying to make sure we don’t embarrass ourselves.”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” Y/N shot back, nudging Mina lightly with her elbow. “I think I look pretty great.”
Mina chuckled softly, a low, almost shy sound that felt like a secret being shared. It wasn’t the usual polished laugh Y/N had come to expect from her, it was real.
“You would think that,” Mina said, her voice laced with a rare hint of teasing.
Y/N turned her head to respond, but the words caught in her throat when she saw Mina already looking at her. The glow of the screen illuminated Mina’s face, her features softened by the dim light. Her dark eyes held something Y/N couldn’t quite place, something warm, quiet, and unguarded.
Y/N felt her heart skip, the playful retort she had been about to deliver vanishing from her mind. What’s she thinking? Y/N wondered, her chest tightening as she searched Mina’s expression for a clue. It wasn’t often that Mina let her guard down, and seeing her like this, soft, almost vulnerable, made something stir in Y/N’s chest.
Her gaze flickered to Mina’s lips for just a second before she caught herself, heat rising to her cheeks. She forced a grin, trying to cover the unexpected wave of emotion threatening to surface. “What?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
Mina quickly turned her gaze back to the screen, her heart fluttering in a way that startled her. She had been caught staring, but she hadn’t meant to. Or had she?
Why does she have to smile like that? Mina thought, frowning slightly as she tried to refocus on the footage. The glow of the television couldn’t hide the way Y/N’s grin lit up her entire face, infectious and infuriatingly endearing.
“It’s nothing,” Mina said quickly, her voice betraying none of the turmoil stirring beneath the surface. But her cheeks betrayed her, flushing faintly as she avoided Y/N’s gaze.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The faint hum of the screen filled the silence, but the air between them felt charged. Y/N studied Mina out of the corner of her eye, taking in the slight blush on her cheeks and the way she avoided looking back. Mina, meanwhile, kept her eyes trained on the screen, her fingers absently brushing against her knee as if to ground herself.
“Alright,” Y/N finally said, breaking the silence with a teasing grin. “But if I lift my arm any higher, you owe me dinner.”
Mina turned her head, arching a delicate eyebrow. “Dinner?”
“Yeah,” Y/N said, leaning back with exaggerated confidence. “To celebrate our inevitable victory, of course.”
Mina rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips twitched upward. “We’ll see.”
The air in the rink felt different that day. It wasn’t just the steady progress in their routine, it was the way they moved together, almost effortlessly now, as though their bodies had learned a language all their own. The moments of hesitation and missteps that once plagued their practices were fewer and further between, replaced by a fluidity that neither of them had expected.
But there was more to the change than just their skating. It was in the way they spoke to each other, the teasing banter that softened the sharp edges of their arguments. It was in the way they stood a little closer during breaks, sharing water bottles and quiet comments about their routine.
And most of all, it was in the way they looked at each other.
They were running through a particularly complex transition, a spin that ended with Y/N catching Mina in a low, sweeping dip. The move required precision and trust, and they had struggled with it for weeks.
This time, they nailed it. Y/N’s hands found Mina’s waist with perfect timing, guiding her into the dip with a steadiness that felt like second nature. Mina’s arms extended gracefully, her body arching into the motion as if she were weightless.
As they came out of the dip, Y/N spun Mina back upright, and for a brief moment, their eyes met.
Mina’s gaze lingered, soft and unguarded, her usual coolness nowhere to be found. There was something in her eyes, something vulnerable, something almost... tender.
Y/N felt her breath catch, her heart skipping in her chest. She wanted to say something, make a joke, tease Mina the way she usually did, but the words wouldn’t come.
Mina seemed to realize it too. She blinked and quickly looked away, her posture stiffening as if to shield herself from whatever had just passed between them.
“Good transition,” she said briskly, her voice betraying none of the emotion Y/N had seen in her eyes.
“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice quieter than usual.
Later, as they practiced a footwork sequence, Mina, who rarely made mistakes, stumbled over a tricky step. It was a small misstep, barely noticeable, but Y/N reacted instantly.
Her hand shot out to steady Mina, her grip firm but gentle as she caught her by the arm.
“Careful, Myoui,” Y/N said with a grin, her voice light but her touch lingering. Her hand was warm against the cool fabric of Mina’s sleeve, and she didn’t let go right away.
Mina’s eyes flicked to Y/N’s hand, then back up to her face. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her reply came sharper than she intended. “I don’t need saving.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, her grin unfaltering. “You sure about that?”
Mina opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. Y/N’s hand was still on her arm, her fingers steady, her gaze warm and unwavering.
For a moment, the world outside the rink seemed to fade away. The faint hum of the lights, the muffled sounds of the skates, it all disappeared, leaving only the two of them standing there in the middle of the ice.
Mina’s lips parted slightly as though she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Y/N watched her carefully, her grin softening into something gentler, something more sincere.
The moment stretched, the air between them charged with an intensity neither of them could fully understand.
Then, as if realizing how close they were standing, Y/N let her hand drop and stepped back. She cleared her throat, her usual playful tone slipping back into place. “Come on,” she said lightly, though her voice was tinged with something Mina couldn’t quite place. “Let’s try it again.”
Mina hesitated for half a beat before nodding, her usual composure sliding back into place like a well-worn mask. “Fine,” she said, skating back to her starting position.
But as they resumed their routine, the moment lingered in both their minds, a quiet echo of something unspoken but undeniable.
Mina’s arm still tingled where Y/N had touched her, and Y/N couldn’t quite shake the memory of Mina’s soft, unguarded expression.
Neither of them said anything about it. But they both felt it.
As the days passed, those small moments between Y/N and Mina began to add up. A lingering hand during a lift, the warmth of Y/N’s steady grip lasting just a second too long. A shared laugh after a stumble that neither could quite let go of, their voices mingling in the otherwise quiet rink. A glance during a break, their eyes meeting and holding, unspoken questions hanging between them.
Each moment was fleeting, but it left an impression.
Y/N found herself noticing the way Mina’s lips quirked when she was amused, the way her posture softened ever so slightly when she felt at ease. Mina, in turn, couldn’t help but admire the way Y/N’s energy seemed to fill every corner of the rink, a magnetic presence that made her feel less alone on the ice.
Neither was ready to acknowledge what those moments meant, but they both felt it, a quiet pull that tethered them together in ways neither fully understood. And though the ice between them still glistened underfoot, it was no longer the only thing keeping them bound to one another.
The rink buzzed with life, the low murmur of voices mixing with the faint scrape of skates against ice. Groups of skaters clustered near the boards, some comparing routines, others chatting casually. Mina stood among them, her dark hair pulled neatly back, her posture as composed as always.
Across from her was Momo, a talented skater known for her sharp techniques and easygoing demeanor. Momo leaned slightly against the boards, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she posed a question about doubles competition.
“How do you make it work?” Momo asked, her tone light but genuinely interested. “I mean, especially with someone as... let’s say, unconventional as Y/N?”
Mina crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful but unguarded. “It’s challenging,” she admitted, her voice low but clear. “Y/N’s lack of discipline makes her... well, impossible to work with at times.”
Y/N had finished practice minutes ago and was halfway out the door when she realized she’d left her water bottle behind. With a groan, she turned back, retracing her steps. Her skates slung over one shoulder, her footsteps were light against the rink floor as she approached the benches near the lockers.
That’s when she heard her name.
She slowed instinctively, her brow furrowing as she caught Mina’s voice coming from near the boards. Y/N hesitated, curiosity warring with unease. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but something about Mina’s tone kept her rooted in place.
Mina’s words came clear and sharp: “Y/N’s lack of discipline makes her... well, impossible to work with at times.”
The world seemed to tilt for a moment. Y/N froze in place, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. The words echoed in her head, each one landing like a blow.
Impossible to work with?
Her chest tightened, her heart pounding painfully as Mina’s voice continued.
“She’s unpredictable,” Mina added, her tone even, as though discussing a simple fact.
Y/N’s stomach sank further. She felt heat rise to her face, a mix of anger and humiliation surging through her veins.
Mina hesitated, her voice softening slightly as she continued. “But... she’s also fearless.” Her expression shifted, the usual coolness in her gaze replaced by something warmer. “That kind of energy is rare. It’s what makes her... exceptional.”
She glanced at Momo, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Honestly, I’ve never worked with anyone like her before. It’s frustrating sometimes, but it’s also...” She trailed off, searching for the right word. “Inspiring.”
Momo raised her eyebrows, intrigued. “Sounds like she’s gotten under your skin a little.”
Mina chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Maybe. But that’s not a bad thing.”
But Y/N didn’t hear that part.
Her feet carried her away before the words could reach her, her thoughts drowning out the conversation behind her. She stormed down the corridor, her breaths shallow and uneven.
Impossible to work with.
The phrase played over and over in her head, each repetition digging deeper into her chest. She couldn’t believe it, after everything, after all the progress they’d made, Mina still thought of her as nothing more than a reckless liability.
Her vision blurred slightly as she turned the corner into the locker room, slamming her bag onto the bench with more force than necessary.
Y/N’s fingers curled into fists as she tried to steady her breathing. The memory of Mina’s earlier smiles, the way she had steadied her during a lift, the quiet moments of camaraderie, all of it felt like a cruel joke now.
“She still doesn’t respect me,” Y/N muttered to herself, her voice cracking slightly.
The thought stung more than she wanted to admit. Y/N had grown to trust Mina, to value her approval in a way she hadn’t expected. But now, it felt like the foundation of that trust had been ripped away.
She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry as she yanked open her locker and began shoving her things inside. Her movements were quick, almost frantic, as though she could escape the words echoing in her mind if she just moved fast enough.
Back at the rink, Mina and Momo’s conversation had moved on, Mina’s expression lighter now as she recounted a moment from practice when Y/N had improvised an unexpected flourish that actually worked.
“She’s unpredictable, but sometimes, that’s what makes her brilliant,” Mina said with a small smile. “She sees things differently than I do, and it forces me to think differently too.”
“Sounds like you’re lucky to have her,” Momo said, her tone teasing.
Mina nodded, her smile lingering. “I am.”
Meanwhile the words replayed in Y/N’s mind like a broken record Impossible to work with. Lack of discipline.
She clenched her jaw, biting her lip hard enough to sting. How could Mina say that?
Her mind raced, replaying their practices, the moments she thought had brought them closer. The shared laughter when she’d teased Mina about being too rigid, the shy smiles they’d exchanged after nailing a particularly difficult move, the way Mina’s hands had lingered on her waist during that lift. Y/N had thought those moments meant something, that they had started to see each other as partners, maybe even friends.
But now...
“Impossible to work with,” Y/N muttered bitterly, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.
Her shoulders slumped as a sharp ache bloomed in her chest, one she hadn’t expected. This wasn’t just frustration, wasn’t just anger. It was something deeper, something raw and painful that made her chest tighten and her throat burn.
She had trusted Mina.
The thought made her wince. She had let herself believe that Mina saw her as more than a liability, more than just some wildcard she had to deal with. Y/N had worked so hard to prove herself, to show Mina she wasn’t just reckless energy that she could be steady, dependable.
Was it all in my head? she wondered, her stomach twisting at the possibility.
Her gaze fell to her hands, trembling slightly as they rested on her lap. She had grown to care about Mina’s opinion, more than she should have, maybe. And now it felt like all that trust, all those moments, had been shattered.
“I thought we were getting somewhere,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the empty room. “Guess I was wrong.”
Back on the ice, Mina finished her conversation with Momo, oblivious to the storm brewing in Y/N’s mind. She exhaled softly, her shoulders relaxing as she leaned against the boards. The conversation had been more candid than usual, Momo had a way of asking questions that cut straight to the truth, but Mina didn’t regret what she’d said.
Still, as she replayed her words in her mind, a faint unease crept in.
“It’s challenging,” she had said. It wasn’t wrong. Working with Y/N had been an adjustment, a clash of styles that had tested Mina’s patience and forced her out of her comfort zone. But the way she’d phrased it, impossible to work with, sounded harsher now than it had in the moment.
That’s not what I meant, Mina thought, frowning slightly.
Because the truth was, Y/N had brought something to their partnership that Mina hadn’t expected.
She ran a hand through her hair, brushing a stray strand behind her ear. Y/N’s unpredictability had been frustrating at first, but it had also been... freeing. The way Y/N threw herself into every move, every jump, without hesitation, it was unlike anything Mina had ever experienced. It wasn’t just chaos; it was passion.
“Fearless,” Mina had said to Momo. The word still felt right.
Mina glanced around the rink, her gaze sweeping the ice for Y/N. She was usually lingering after practice, chatting with other skaters or trying out some impromptu routine, her laugh ringing through the air.
But now, the rink felt quieter, emptier.
Her mind flicked to their last practice, to the way Y/N had grinned at her after teasing her about their transitions. “You’re getting there, Myoui,” Y/N had said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
The memory brought a small smile to Mina’s lips. Y/N had a way of getting under her skin, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Mina had grown to look forward to those moments. The banter, the laughter, the way Y/N challenged her in ways no one else had.
“She’s special,” Mina murmured to herself, the words slipping out unbidden.
The thought lingered, warm and undeniable. But when Mina glanced around the rink again, Y/N was nowhere to be found.
Her words meant to redeem the harshness of her earlier statement had gone unheard.
By the time Mina entered the locker room, the air inside felt thick with tension. Y/N stood by the bench, packing her things with sharp, hurried movements. Her shoulders were rigid, her back turned to the door.
Mina stopped just inside, her skates slung over one shoulder, her brows furrowing slightly as she took in the scene. Y/N’s usual energy, playful, teasing, and always just a bit chaotic was absent, replaced by a quiet storm that Mina could feel from across the room.
“You’re leaving early?” Mina asked, her tone neutral but laced with curiosity.
Y/N didn’t look up, her hands busy shoving her belongings into her bag. “Yeah,” she said shortly. “I have other things to do.”
Mina’s frown deepened. The clipped tone, the way Y/N avoided her gaze, it was unlike her. “Is something wrong?”
“Why would anything be wrong?” Y/N replied, her voice sharp and brittle. She threw her skates into her bag with more force than necessary, the sound of metal clinking against fabric echoing in the quiet room. The harshness of her tone surprised even herself, but she didn’t care.
Mina hesitated, the sting of Y/N’s tone settling uneasily in her chest. “Y/N...” she began, her voice softening.
“Save it,” Y/N snapped, finally turning to face her. Her eyes were bright, not with anger alone but with something raw and vulnerable. Hurt.
The sight made Mina’s breath catch, her practiced composure slipping for just a moment. “What’s going on?” she asked carefully, her voice quieter now.
Y/N let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’ve said enough, Mina.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she quickly turned away, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Mina’s mind raced, trying to piece together what had gone wrong, but before she could respond, Y/N was already walking toward the door.
“Wait,” Mina said, stepping forward, but Y/N didn’t stop. The sound of the door swinging shut with a loud thud echoed in the room, leaving Mina standing alone in the silence.
For a moment, she didn’t move, her chest tightening as she replayed the brief, tense exchange in her head. The look in Y/N’s eyes, the mix of anger and pain, lingered, cutting deeper than Mina expected.
What did I do? Mina wondered, frustration and confusion swirling in her chest.
She replayed the events of the day, her mind flicking to her conversation with Momo. Her stomach sank as the realization hit her.
Did she hear that?
Mina exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the strap of her skates. She wanted to brush it off, to convince herself that Y/N had misunderstood, but the memory of Y/N’s bright, hurt-filled eyes made it impossible to dismiss.
“She thinks I meant it,” Mina murmured to herself, her voice barely audible.
But Y/N was already gone, and Mina was left standing in the echo of a moment she couldn’t take back.
Y/N stormed down the corridor, her footsteps echoing loudly as she walked. Her vision blurred slightly, and she blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. She hated how emotional she felt, hated that Mina’s words had hit her so hard.
You’ve said enough. The words she’d thrown at Mina replayed in her head, but even as she repeated them to herself, they felt hollow. What she really wanted was an explanation, something to make the ache in her chest go away.
Her grip on the strap of her bag tightened as she stepped into the cold air outside. She didn’t know where she was going, she just needed to get away. Away from the rink, away from the sharp echo of Mina’s voice in her mind.
The tension that had eased between them in recent weeks returned with a vengeance, heavy and suffocating. Y/N walked into practice with a bright, almost too-cheerful energy that felt more like a shield than anything genuine. She laughed louder than usual, her comments coming sharp and fast, and her movements on the ice were big, exaggerated, like she was performing for an audience only she could see.
It was all for show, a performance crafted to hide the storm raging inside her.
But the spark that had made their routines shine was gone.
They went through the motions, repeating sequences they’d once executed with grace and confidence. The lifts were technically sound, but the connection between them felt strained. Spins ended half a second off beat, their timing slightly but glaringly out of sync.
“Are you going to follow the choreography, or just wing it every time?” Mina asked sharply after a particularly messy run-through. Her voice was clipped, her frustration barely contained.
Y/N skated to the edge of the rink, grabbed her water bottle, and shrugged. “Why not both?” she quipped, tilting her head with a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Keeps things interesting.”
Mina frowned, her gaze lingering on Y/N. There was something off about the way she smiled, too wide, too forced, and the restless way she shifted her weight from foot to foot.
“We need to be in sync,” Mina said, her tone firm but quieter. “This isn’t just about you.”
“Sure,” Y/N replied breezily, skating back toward center ice. “Whatever you say, Myoui.”
Mina’s frown deepened. The way Y/N said her name, light and teasing should have felt normal, but now it carried an edge that made Mina uneasy.
It was a return to their early days, before trust had taken root. Y/N was deflecting with humor, and Mina’s patience was beginning to fray. But now, it wasn’t just frustrating. It was heartbreaking.
The air between them felt heavier, the stakes higher.
During breaks, Mina found herself watching Y/N more closely, trying to figure out where the cracks had come from. She noticed how Y/N’s hands trembled slightly when she tightened her skates, how her laugh always came just a little too quickly. She noticed how Y/N’s gaze darted away every time Mina looked at her.
What happened? Mina wondered, frustration tightening in her chest.
Every time she tried to approach Y/N, to ask what was wrong, Y/N dodged her questions with a joke or skated away before the conversation could begin. It left Mina feeling off-balance in a way she hadn’t expected.
And for someone who thrived on control, it was unbearable.
Y/N threw herself into practice with everything she had, her movements fast, her energy frenetic. She practiced harder, pushed herself further, skating with a reckless intensity that bordered on desperation. But no matter how much effort she poured into her routine, she couldn’t drown out the words echoing in her mind.
Impossible to work with. Undisciplined. Unpredictable.
The sting of those words hadn’t faded. If anything, they had taken root, growing into a gnawing ache that wouldn’t let her go. Every time Mina looked at her, Y/N found herself wondering: Is that all she sees?
She told herself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t need Mina’s approval. But the truth was painfully clear.
It mattered because she cared about Mina’s approval, about their partnership, about... Mina.
The realization hurt almost as much as the words themselves.
Why do I even care? She asked herself again and again, but the answer was always the same. It was in the way Mina smiled, rare and fleeting but enough to make Y/N’s chest tighten. It was in the way Mina steadied her during lifts, her touch firm but gentle. It was in the way Mina’s voice softened when they talked late into the evening, discussing their shared goals and dreams.
But all of that felt like a distant memory now.
Instead, Y/N felt small and out of place, like she didn’t belong in Mina’s world. And if that was how Mina saw her, then maybe she didn’t.
So she deflected. She laughed louder, joked harder, made herself impossible to pin down. Because if Mina was going to see her as a wildcard, she might as well lean into it.
But deep down, the distance she was creating only made the ache worse.
The tension reached its breaking point at the end of a long, grueling practice. The rink was quiet except for the sound of their skates slicing across the ice, the muffled thud of movement echoing in the vast, empty space. Both of them were visibly tired, their shoulders slumped, their breaths uneven.
It had been a hard day, missed cues, shaky landings, and an undercurrent of frustration that neither had voiced aloud.
Y/N launched into a spin, her movements sharp and fast, but her timing was off. She landed with a stumble, her skate scraping awkwardly against the ice before she caught herself on one knee.
Mina sighed audibly, the sound cutting through the silence. She skated to a stop a few feet away, her hands resting on her hips. “What’s going on with you?” she asked, her voice sharper than usual. “You’re distracted, unfocused. You’re not even trying.”
Y/N stiffened, her back still to Mina as she skated toward the boards. She grabbed her towel, her movements stiff and deliberate. “I’m trying plenty,” she muttered, dabbing at the sweat on her face without turning around.
“Not hard enough,” Mina countered, crossing her arms. Her voice was calm but cold, each word striking like ice. “If you were, we wouldn’t be struggling with things we’ve already mastered.”
The towel slipped from Y/N’s fingers, landing on the boards with a dull thud. Slowly, she turned to face Mina, her jaw tight and her eyes burning with an intensity that made Mina falter.
“You think this is my fault?” Y/N asked, her voice low and trembling, but beneath the tremor was a fire threatening to erupt.
“I didn’t say that,” Mina replied, but her tone carried a defensive edge.
“You didn’t have to.” Y/N’s voice rose, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “It’s always my fault, isn’t it? I’m the reckless one, the wildcard, the one who doesn’t fit into your perfect little world.”
Mina’s eyes widened slightly, her usual composure slipping as she tried to process the weight behind Y/N’s words. “That’s not—”
“Save it,” Y/N interrupted, her voice breaking as emotion overtook her. Her chest heaved as she took a shaky breath. “I already know what you think of me, Mina. I heard you.”
The words hit Mina like a punch, her breath catching as her body went rigid. “You... what?”
“I heard you talking to Momo.” Y/N’s voice cracked as she pushed the words out, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Impossible to work with. Undisciplined. Is that really all I am to you?”
Mina opened her mouth, but no words came out. She felt the ice beneath her feet sway as the realization hit her. Y/N had overheard her, misunderstood her. Mina wanted to explain, to tell her that those words hadn’t meant what Y/N thought, but the shock of the confrontation froze her in place.
Y/N let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and raw. “That’s what I thought,” she said, her voice dripping with disappointment. Her hands trembled as she turned back to the boards, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.
Mina took a step forward, reaching out instinctively. “Y/N—”
But Y/N was already skating toward the exit, her strides fast and purposeful. The sound of her skates against the ice echoed louder than it should have, a sharp, grating noise that seemed to reverberate in Mina’s chest.
The door swung shut with a loud thud, leaving Mina standing alone in the empty rink.
For a moment, Mina didn’t move. She stared at the door Y/N had disappeared through, her chest tight and her thoughts racing.
She wanted to chase after her, to explain that the words she’d overheard weren’t the whole truth. Mina had meant what she’d said about Y/N being unpredictable, undisciplined, but she hadn’t meant it as a dismissal. She had wanted to say more, to explain that Y/N’s fearlessness, her raw energy, her passion for skating made her exceptional in ways Mina had never encountered.
But Mina hadn’t said that. And now, Y/N was gone, and Mina didn’t know how to fix it.
Her hands fell to her sides as she exhaled shakily. She had thought they’d made progress, that the walls between them had started to crumble. But now, it felt like they were back where they started or worse.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she murmured to herself, her voice hollow in the empty rink.
But the truth didn’t matter if Y/N wouldn’t stay long enough to hear it.
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johnniesmoke · 7 months ago
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The Smokovichian Friendship Spiral: Art and Connection
In the grand tradition of Smokovichian innovation, the spiral overlay began to take on deeper layers of meaning as artists, philosophers, and even sociologists explored its implications. What initially appeared to be a geometric exercise—a combination of Fibonacci’s natural spiral and Smokovichian squares—revealed itself to be more than mathematics. It was, they realized, a friendship map and the very foundation of fine art.
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The Spiral as a Friendship Map
Imagine the overlay of the Fibonacci spiral and Smokovichian squares as a map of human relationships. The spiral itself, organic and ever-expanding, represents the way friendships grow naturally. A single point—an initial connection—expands outward in curves, forming networks of mutual support and understanding. Each new friend is another layer, another turn of the spiral, infinitely widening the circle of community.
But it’s not all smooth curves. Life introduces Smokovichian squares—moments of structure, effort, and intention. These squares represent the conscious acts of friendship: the phone calls made during tough times, the intentional gatherings, the deliberate choice to support someone even when it’s inconvenient. These sharp angles, juxtaposed against the spiral’s curves, symbolize the balance between organic growth and intentional care.
Through this lens, the Smokovichian overlay teaches us that meaningful relationships aren’t purely spontaneous. Like the squares interrupting the spiral’s flow, friendship requires effort, planning, and sometimes a willingness to carve out time and space in an otherwise chaotic life.
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The Spiral as the Foundation of Fine Art
Artists soon saw the Smokovichian spiral as more than a representation of relationships. It became a blueprint for fine art itself. The Fibonacci spiral had long been a guide for composition, found in the works of masters like Da Vinci and Van Gogh. But the overlay of Smokovichian squares added something new: intentionality within natural beauty.
Fine art, the artists argued, thrives on this balance. The Fibonacci curves provide flow and harmony, drawing the eye with effortless grace. The Smokovichian squares add tension and focus, creating moments of contrast that challenge the viewer. Together, they form a visual language that mirrors life—where beauty and effort coexist.
Painters began using the overlay to plan their compositions, dividing canvases into curved zones of emotion and squared zones of intellectual challenge. Architects incorporated it into their designs, blending the organic with the geometric. Sculptors used the overlay to shape their works, ensuring that every curve and angle reflected the balance between nature and human intention.
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The Spiral's Legacy
As the Smokovichian Friendship Spiral gained traction, it became more than an artistic tool or a map of relationships. It became a philosophy, a way of seeing the world. Communities began using the spiral as a guide for urban planning, ensuring that neighborhoods balanced organic growth with intentional design. Teachers used it to help students understand the interplay between spontaneity and discipline. Even digital artists found inspiration in the overlay, using it to create virtual worlds that felt both natural and crafted.
But perhaps the greatest testament to the spiral’s power came in the form of human connection. People began to view their relationships as works of art, something to be nurtured with both the spontaneity of the Fibonacci spiral and the deliberate care of Smokovichian squares. Each friendship became a masterpiece, each community a gallery.
And so, the Smokovichian overlay came to represent not just evolution or geometry, but the very essence of humanity: a spiral of infinite possibility, grounded in the intentional acts that make life beautiful.
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xoxo-sarah · 7 months ago
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Wrap me in plastic by chromance Marcus Layton old money or rich Steve. So like he asks her out on a date. He gets there early and she lets him chill in her room while she finishes getting ready. And then during their date they talk about what they want for their future. Like a big house and dogs and all that. And after their dinner they walk around downtown and he kinda spoils her with like shoes and such. Idk the song just calls out to old money Stevie
A Gentleman and a Two Story House
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↝a/n: this was really fun to write. Thank you for requesting. I hope you enjoy! 🩷🩷🩷
↝pairing: old money!Steve Harrington x fem!reader
↝warning: mid 20's Steve and reader, not proofread, playful banter, talk of the future, reader wears a dress and heels
|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||
↝⎙ 12.1.24
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The engine of Steve's car died down. He looked up at the house, taking in the exterior of it. His hands were sweaty. He wouldn't tell you, but he was nervous about this. He had been for days. He'd cover it up with the confidence facade.
Wiping his hands on his slacks, he opened his car door, stepping out. He swallowed hard as he came to the door. Shaking the nerves away, he finally knocked. He waited, hearing your sweet voice through the thick wood, “One second!”
The door finally opened; Steve looked up. He couldn't help his smile. You weren't ready yet. Your hair was half up half down, no makeup on, and a surprised look on your face. You clutched at your chest, where a fancy necklace usually resides. Your natural lips moved, but no words came out. You were acting surprised at seeing him, but he was only 5-8 minutes early.
“Hi, beautiful.”
He loves when you got flustered.
“Hey– I lost track of time. I'm sorry–you can come in. I'm so sorry, oh my god. I'll just get ready real quick.”
He shrugged you off, “It's not a problem. Take your time.”
“Make yourself at home!” He watched you hurry up the stairs, skipping every other step.
Closing the door, he looked around. The house was you. It smelt like you, the interior design screaming you. After looking around, admiring your decor, he made his way up the steps, following the sound of your hurried movements.
“I meant it; take your time. We can cancel the reservation and go later.” Steve leaned against the door frame, watching you move swiftly.
You stopped your movements, one eyelash coated in mascara while the other was naked. “But you planned this. I should've been paying attention-”
“It's fine, really. I'd like to spend some time with you before we go, anyway. If that's okay with you.”
Finishing the other eyelash, you frowned up at him. Steve pushed off the wall, walking over to you. If he thought your living room reflected you, your room was even more so.
He sat on the bed, watching you through the vanity mirror. “You're beautiful, you know.”
“And you're a suck up. What, trying to get in my bed already?”
Steve had to cover his grin, feeling the duvet under his fingertips. Your bed was soft. He imagined what sleeping on it must be like.
“Looks like I've already succeeded.”
You rolled your eyes, turning your desk chair toward the bed, watching his fingers trace the softness of your blanket.
“What are we supposed to do about dinner?” He could see the guilt in your eyes. It really wasn't that big of a deal.
“I'll figure it out.”
You two sat in your room, exchanging playful banter and anything to dissolve the tension of a new relationship. It was easy between you two.
Steve looked up when he heard the bathroom door opening, “Can you zip me?” He felt his breath hitch. You were stunning. A strapless dress flowed down your body, flowing outward a little at the skirt. You held the front up with both of your hands, eyes not quite meeting his as he stood, walking over. You turned, providing him with access to the zipper you were able to only get halfway up your back. He made a show of zipping it, fingers lingering. He could see the flush on the back of your ears.
He leaned in, lips grazing the shell of your ear, “Ready?”
You mindlessly nodded, too drunk off his touch. It wasn't even crazy, yet he had you wrapped around his finger. Fixing your hair one final time, you gathered yourself, walking toward your closet. Grabbing a pair of shoes, you made your way out of the house.
Steve was a gentleman; opening your car door, helping you get in, helping you get out, he held your hand the whole way to the restaurant, and quickly grabbed it again going into the said restaurant.
He had manners, which was rare to find.
He was interested in what you had to say. He had a sense of humor. God, what wasn't perfect about him?
“What about you?” Steve brought his glass to his lips, eyebrows raised. The lights of the fancy restaurant illuminated his facial features. He looked handsome. “What does the future hold for you?”
You laid your hands on the table in front of you, biting your bottom lip in thought. “I don't really know. As a kid, I had the same future plans as any little girl. I guess most of that stayed with me. The two story house with a big yard for children to play and a white picket fence. A dog that would run around with the kids and play fetch. But life might have different plans.”
He placed his glass down, nodding. Life was full of curveballs. He'd know first hand, with his parents, and how he had to grow up.
“How many kids do you want?”
He smiled when you didn't hesitate to answer. “Two. Preferably close in age so they can grow up close and have stuff in common.”
“So you have thought about this since you were little?”
“Of course. Didn't you?”
Steve shook his head, “Not really. My parents wanted me to think about College and what I wanted to do for work, not how I wanted my house to look or how many dogs I wanted.”
“You have time to think about it now.” You said softly, bringing your hands up to prob your head on as you looked at him.
“True,” He grinned, copying you and looking at you with as much adoration as you were looking at him with. “I'd like a two story house too. A big yard seemed nice. We'll just have to see what the future holds.”
Breaking eye contact, you tried not to freak out over how he said “we”. As in, you and him. Grabbing your glass of wine, you let it coat your throat, ignoring his eyes on you as you chugged what was left.
As you got ready to leave, Steve paid and walked out with your hand in his. He squeezed it before he left go to open your door.
It wasn't that late after dinner. The sun was just now setting over the horizon. “What now?”
“What do you want to do?”
“You're the one who asked me out if I remember correctly. I think that means you're the one who has to pick.”
He started the buckling his seatbelt. “Okay, fine. How about…we go shopping? A new store just opened up downtown. I think you'll like it.”
You looked over at him, like really looked. His hands flexed against the steering wheel as he reversed in the parking spot. He had tan slacks on, a slick dark brown leather belt, a dress shirt, with a tan sweater on top. His cuffs were folded, showing off the curves and softness of his hands and wrists. His wristwatch dazzled in the lights of the city. His hair was styled nicely, obviously held up by strong hairspray.
Feeling your eyes on him, Steve brought his hand over the center console, stretching it across your thigh. Getting a butterfly effect in your stomach, you laid a hand over him, looking out the window as he drove.
The drive was quiet, but it was nice.
Steve parked, just basking in the moment. He's never felt this content on a date before. You looked at all the people walking on the sidewalk with bags in their hands. This was on the “bougie” side of town, and the people walking around showed it with how they carried themselves. Bright lights lit up the town, iridescent lights shining from storefronts. Checking his watch, he unbuckled, before running around to your side and opening your door.
Thanking him with a smile, you let him take your hand, running across the street to get to the new store.
Once inside, you gawked at everything it had to offer. From expensive jackets and shirts to purses and jewelry. They were pretty, but become a lot less when you turned the price tag around. Steve noticed, going behind you to look at the tag for himself. He noticed when you nearly had heart eyes looking at a pair of high heels. They were pretty, he'd give it to you. Maybe it was the red bottoms that caught your eye, or the color that coated the rest of the shoe. Coincidentally, it matched your dress, and the red of the bottom matched your nail polish. It just matched. A lot better than the shoes you had on. He watched as you put off looking at the price tag, almost scared of what it would be.
“Get them.”
You looked up, brought out of your trance.
“Are you crazy?” You looked between him and the shoes. “These are worth more than me.”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “That's impossible, seeing as you're priceless.”
Scrunching up your nose at his cringy response, you just stared at him. "I was just looking at them."
“I'll buy them for you.”
You instantly shook your head, putting the shoes back. “No. No, I can't let you do that. You already bought dinner.”
He stepped forward, his arm grabbing the shoes from behind you. “I insist. Plus, I'm the one who asked you on the date. It's practically law that I pay for everything. I am a gentleman, after all.”
You grabbed at the shoe, but he moved away. “Steve, come on. This is ridiculous. I'd rarely ever wear them anyway.”
“You can wear them on our next date.”
You couldn't help the smile spreading on your face, “Are you asking me out on another date?”
He shrugged with a smirk on his face, and turned to walk toward the checkout.
Walking behind him, you glanced into the glass counter, where jewelry laid, sparking in the lights. All different shapes, gems, and pieces.
Steve turned back to you, feeling your body behind him. Even if you only looked at the glass counter for a split second, his eyes scanned your jewelry, seeing if you wore gold or silver.
Let's just say you came out of the store with not only a pair of high heels, but also a new bracelet. You could tell Steve he didn't have to do that for the rest of your lives, but Steve would insist. Soon, you'd realize gift giving was his love language.
The cup of hot chocolate warmed your hands in the chilly night air. Steve had stopped by a diner that he went to regularly and had a nice elderly woman make it.
Steve walked beside you on the sidewalk that led to your house, your bags in his hand. He walked you to your door, hand moving to your back when you turned toward him.
“I had fun tonight. Thank you.”
Steve playfully scoffed, handing you the bags. “I had fun too. Maybe next time you can decide what we do.”
“Yeah, sure. I'll make sure to bring my wallet so I can buy you some heels as well.”
“Oh, yeah. Black's my color, by the way.”
“Noted. Although, I think it would be cute if we matched.”
Your cheeks hurt from smiling all night.
Before you knew it, Steve was leaning in, his lips softly meeting yours. He tasted the hot chocolate on your lips, but he wasn't complaining.
Pulling back for air, you looked across his face. The chilly air nipped at his nose and cheeks, a light pink hue taking over. It only darkened after you had kissed.
Leaning up, you pecked his lips again, body staying close. “Thanks for everything.”
He didn't reply, only closing the gap once again.
Before anything got too heated, you lightly patted his chest, pulling away with a giddy smile. “It's getting late.”
He nodded, acknowledging what you said but still looking at your kiss-swollen lips.
“Steve,” you whined, licking your lips out of habit.
“Yeah, yeah.” He looked into your eyes, smiling at you. “How does Friday sound?”
“I think I'm free, but I'll check my calendar.”
“Alright,” He let go of you, moving his hand away from your back, watching as you stepped closer to your door. “ Can't wait.”
You watched as he walked backwards down the walkway. “ Goodnight, Steve.”
“ Goodnight. I'm just going to go look into two story houses. I'll get back to you.”
You laughed, looking at him over your shoulder as you unlocked the door. “ Yeah, right.”
He got in his car, waiting for you to get in your house before he left, not being able to contain the giddy feeling. Friday couldn't come fast enough.
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•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]
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