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hxney-lemcn · 8 months ago

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Jealousy is a Bitter Look — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: how the overblots react to being jealous (some are a bit more jealous than others, but they all have their moment).

tw: unhealthy attachments (Malleus, but he's working on it). ngl this shows a bit of their flaws so its not complete fluff and a bit of a character study.

a/n: so I can't make a fluffy/cute jealous fic cus I find jealousy an emotion to work on? Like its not terrible to be jealous, it happens to the best of us, I just don't wanna romanticize it? 'Cus if left unchecked it can lead to toxic relationships so that's why I wrote this in a more uplifting manner (?). Idk, I'm weird ik.

wc: 1.5k (~200 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle tried not to get jealous. He trusted you wholly. But sometimes his insecurities got the best of him. Cater was more affectionate, did you wish he were more affectionate like that? Trey was kind, did you wish he would give you more? Ace and Deuce were stupid, but it was undeniable how well you got along, did you wish he were more carefree? Those feelings would tug at his heart, but it was something he needed to work on himself, it wasn’t your problem. That’s what he kept repeating in his mind as he watched you have fun with your friends. Lips downturned hidden behind a teacup, ocean grey eyes sharply watching the scene before him. He thought he was hiding it better, but it was clear to you with how he pouted. Excusing yourself from Ace and Deuce, you made your way to the ruby haired housewarden. Riddle greeted you, eyes softening and frown lifting slightly. You tell him that he could’ve just told you if he was jealous. Unlike some, he won’t deny it fully, instead explaining his reasoning. Work on it with him, reassure him that you like him for him. If you wanted someone else, you wouldn’t be with him, and he takes that to heart.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

Jealousy is Leona’s middle name. After everything he’s been through, constantly being in second place, never getting what he truly wants…he feels like having you will slip through his fingers as well. Being with you, creating all those happy memories…it scares him. That one day you’ll find someone better and all he’ll have left of you are memories. So yes, he does get jealous, quite easily, and he masks it with his ego. He’s the best, don’t look at anyone else, he’s a prince, why would you settle for less? It’s quite clear that he’s jealous, his tail flicking, ears twitching, the sharp glare. When you confront him he won’t tell you the full truth, that’s a step too far at the moment. Be gentle with him, if someone flirts with you, tell them you have a boyfriend. Leona gets this smug smile and a warmth in his chest. As much as he won’t hesitate to claim you if someone won’t stop their advances, he loves it when you claim him. After all, it shows how much you care for him, how much you want him, and even the big bad lion needs a bit of reassurance.

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

He’s actually quite similar to Leona in this regard. Azul was bullied when he was younger, which led him to having an inferiority complex about almost everything. He is bad at hiding it as well, clearly needing to be reassured that he was doing well and he was a good partner. It was just hard for him to comprehend that someone as amazing as you was actually with someone like him. He loves you so intensely, he can’t help but let his insecurities get the best of him sometimes. He thinks you’d hate his mer form or that someone that could offer you more will swoop you away from him. He wouldn’t even blame you, he’d just be hurt he couldn’t do more for you. (He’s thinking all this even though he would and could offer you the world if you asked). When someone is trying to flirt with you outright he’s trying to mask his insecurity with his suaveness, asking if the person needs anything and if you're uncomfortable he leaves in a small threat about Floyd not being in a good mood (if you’re really uncomfortable he might use Jade as the threat instead). Azul checks in on you, but if you're smiling he might die a bit. Please just reassure him that you only have eyes for him.

❥ Jamil Viper

Unlike Leona and Azul, Jamil doesn’t get that jealous or has an inferiority complex. No. Instead, he knows you wouldn’t go behind his back, after all, you managed to become his partner and that’s a feat in itself. He does get smug when you tell someone off, or politely inform them that you have a boyfriend. Jamil reveals in their look of defeat (he is a bit of a sadist in that regard). The time his jealousy truly shines is when Kalim is in the equation. He refuses to allow Kalim to take anything else from him, never mind you. The way Kalim easily makes you smile, steals your time with frivolous parties, puts his hands on you…yeah it's a feat that Jamil didn’t snap. Jamil is very good at masking his feelings, but the facade unravels when you both are alone for once. Give him your attention, affection, love, reassure him through touch that you want him. If you poke and prod enough he’ll admit he’s jealous, how it just reminds him that Kalim always takes and takes, afraid that you’ll fall for the charm (that Jamil couldn’t understand) of Kalim and fall into his arms instead. But when you soothe him, tell him that you see Kalim more of a brother if anything…Jamil will calm down and realize how foolish he’s being.

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Vil, jealous? Yeah no. Not normally at least. Have you seen him? Vil is one of the fairest of them all. If someone tried flirting with you he’d laugh in their face if that wasn’t disgraceful. If anything, you were the lucky one in this relationship…he does cherish you though, and he loves you more than he’d like to admit. You may be a lucky potato…but he was one lucky man as well. He managed to snag your heart without the flashing lights and fame, you loved him for who he was and he was grateful. So when Vil watches Neige talk to you with no care in the world, hearts practically in the boy’s eyes…yeah it's the one scenario you’ll witness a jealous Vil. He’ll perch himself by your side, arm slung around you as he greets you with a kiss to the cheek. A pleasant surprise as Vil isn’t this affectionate in public usually. Neige doesn’t seem to take the hint, so Vil ups the ante, talking about your last date and how he’s lucky you chose him. It’s an obvious change (and everyone knows the vitriol Vil holds for Neige). You eat the attention up, but after you're alone in his room, give him a ton of kisses, teasing him about how sweet he was, he doesn’t like to admit his jealousy, but he loves your affection.

❥ Idia Shroud

I’m noticing a pattern. Most of these guys have an inferiority complex. Idia’s is the most obvious. He barely believes you actually like him, so him being jealous is more common than not. Depending on how long you’ve been together he’ll react differently. If it's in the beginning, he’s blaming and degrading himself for not being good enough, that you deserve better and he locks himself in his room. He needs a lot of reassurance in this stage, lots of quality time. The longer you are together the more confident he gets. Someone tries to flirt with you; he's dissing them with his chronically online lingo. Doing that little giggle when you elbow him trying not to grin. Although those self-deprecating thoughts still swirl in his brain, he’s learned to trust and believe you, after all you decided to stay with him for how long? Not to mention that your reassurances made him feel better and trust you. You’ve seen his worst multiple times and you’re still by his side. Besides, if anyone dares insults Idia in their attempt to woo you you go crazy, insulting them which makes Idia want to melt, die, and kiss you all at once.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Malleus is a bit confusing. On one hand he 100% trusts you, on the other he can be a bit childish. You spend too much time without him or go out to something he wasn’t invited to and you’ll find him pouting upon your arrival. He doesn’t mean to, he’s glad you have others to have fun with and he doesn’t want to restrict you in any way…but he is a bit needy when it comes to your affection. He is so touch-starved and isolated that he can’t help but cling to you, feeling a bitter pang when you have to go. If anyone dares to flirt with you it's when he isn’t by your side and you're declining them instantly. If someone is actually insane and tries to flirt with you when Malleus is present either 1. Malleus watches on trying to hide his smugness as you decline or 2. Sebek is shouting insults at them before you even get the chance. All in all, Malleus isn’t too jealous, and when he is he tries to work on his possessiveness. He wants a healthy relationship with you after all, and he’d do anything to make you happy, even if that means letting you go for a day to hang out with your other friends.

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the-cosmic-cauldron · 3 months ago

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Neptune In The Houses: Where Does Reality Blur For You

Remember when we were kids, lying in the grass with our eyes closed, feeling weightless as our thoughts drifted into our imagination? Remember the things you envisioned—those dreams that made you think, I can actually do that one day? The excitement that came with the possibilities your mind created.

As you grew older, those visions expanded, evolving from childhood fantasies into grander, more intricate dreams. Your mind became a tantalizing place to escape when reality felt mundane. That’s Neptune. Neptune connects us to the transcendent—something beyond this 3D world, something ethereal, otherworldly, and deeply spiritual. It isn’t always grounded in the here and now, but it brings a sense of wonder and inspiration that we often need.

Today, we’re diving into the house your Neptune falls in to explore where your imagination thrives and where your reality becomes blurred.

Neptune in the 1st House

With Neptune in the first house, your identity is elusive, ever-changing, and difficult to define. Others struggle to understand you, and at times, you may not even fully understand yourself. Yet, this mystery makes you captivating—there’s something mystical, almost hypnotic about you that draws people in, leaving them wanting to know more.

Neptune in the 2nd House

You aren’t someone who fixates on the external world. Instead, your mind is filled with grand visions—dream homes, vast landscapes, oceans, and forests more beautiful than anything found on Earth. You escape into this fantasy, envisioning a life you don’t yet have but deeply desire. Your imagination is so vivid that in your mind, you’ve already built a home, married your soulmate, and made a fortune. However, translating these dreams into reality can be challenging, as you often get lost in your idealized world, neglecting the tangible steps needed to achieve it.

Neptune in the 3rd House

Conversations with you feel otherworldly. You possess deep spiritual insight, and at times, speaking to you can feel like talking to a guru, an enlightened being, or even a prophet. Yet, your words can also be tangled, confusing, or misinterpreted. People may either find you profoundly wise or hopelessly abstract—are you an oracle of hidden truths or just someone lost in a web of words?

Neptune in the 4th House

As a child, you were likely a dreamer—the one gazing out the car window for hours, lost in thought, or retreating into books, movies, and daydreams. Even when physically present, you often felt distant from your family, detached from the dynamics of home life. This placement creates a sense of emotional fog around your upbringing; you may remember your childhood in an idealized, dreamlike way or struggle to truly understand your roots. People close to you might notice this distance, sometimes wondering if you even see them clearly at all.

Neptune in the 5th House

You live for art, beauty, and creativity. Music, dance, film, painting—anything that allows you to escape into a world of imagination captivates you. The harshness of reality often feels unbearable, so you seek solace in aesthetics and pleasure. You’d rather spend your time lost in an artistic trance, painting serene landscapes or listening to ethereal music, than dealing with mundane responsibilities. Reality may seem dull compared to the vibrant world your mind conjures, and as a result, you may struggle to stay grounded in practical matters.

Neptune in the 6th House

Daily life feels burdensome, and routine is something you resist. Traditional jobs bore you, school fails to capture your interest, and the idea of a strict 9-to-5 schedule makes you restless. You crave flexibility, spontaneity, and romanticized alternatives to mundane obligations. Often, you either avoid structure altogether or find ways to modify it to your liking. This placement can also bring difficulties in recognizing health issues—you may not notice when you’re unwell until symptoms become severe. A lack of discipline and a tendency toward escapism can lead to dependency on others for support.

Neptune in the 7th House

Relationships are complicated for you because you tend to see people through a hazy, idealized lens. You often overlook red flags, failing to recognize when someone doesn’t have good intentions. This makes you vulnerable to deception, as you may trust people who secretly resent you or mistake toxic relationships for deep connections. Love, in particular, is highly romanticized here—you fall hard and fast, sometimes without seeing the truth of your partner until reality inevitably crashes down. With Neptune in the 7th, discernment isn’t your strong suit; instead, you are gifted (or cursed) with illusion.

Neptune in the 8th House

This placement pulls you into the depths of the unknown, sometimes so deeply that you lose all sense of reality. You exist in a world of shadows, illusions, and profound transformation, but the scariest part is that you may not even realize how lost you are. You might believe you’re in control when, in truth, you’re drowning in the depths of your own subconscious. Often, you think you’re thriving, only for a sudden crisis to reveal that your reality is much more fragile than you believed. This placement brings an intense connection to hidden truths, but it also makes self-deception dangerously easy.

Neptune in the 9th House

You are deeply spiritual and philosophical, sometimes to the point of wanting to detach completely from the human experience. A part of you longs to embrace life, while another part dreams of escaping—whether through travel, spirituality, or even complete withdrawal from society. Your ideals are vast, but they are often too far-reaching, leading to deep disappointment when the real world fails to meet your expectations. You have immense knowledge of metaphysical and spiritual concepts, making you a natural preacher, mystic, or even a cult leader—your ability to inspire others with your vision is unparalleled.

Neptune in the 10th House

The world sees you through a dreamlike lens—people may idealize you, projecting onto you an image of purity, kindness, and wisdom. However, beneath this illusion, there may be a hidden struggle, a chaos that others fail to recognize. You often feel misunderstood, as if no one truly knows the real you. Career-wise, the traditional workforce is not for you—you need a path that allows for creativity, mysticism, and freedom. Finding the right career is challenging, and you may go through multiple reinventions before discovering your true calling.

Neptune in the 11th House

You exist in two worlds—the real one and the one you create online. The internet, social media, or virtual communities become your escape, allowing you to construct an identity that may not fully align with your real-life self. Friendships also serve as a form of escapism—you may surround yourself with people who share your fantasies, whether through music festivals, role-playing, or immersive subcultures. If not, then you likely find solace in fictional worlds, obsessing over books, anime, or artistic movements that transport you beyond the limitations of everyday life.

Neptune in the 12th House

You are otherworldly. You weren’t meant to be here, yet somehow, you arrived. The physical world often feels overwhelming, harsh, and foreign, making it difficult for you to stay grounded in reality. Logic, structure, and practicality are challenging concepts, and you may retreat into isolation or escape into your own dream world to cope. There’s an ethereal quality to you, as if you are only half-present in this realm while the other half exists in some distant, spiritual plane. Are you an alien soul? A misplaced entity? A wanderer between worlds? No one truly knows—including you.

#neptune #astro notes #astro observations #astroblr #astrology #astro placements #astro community

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getouyuri · 17 days ago

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one mimir, two mimir

pairing: oyabun!gojo x secretary!reader (fem!reader)

author’s note: got a little carried away with this cos wdym I wrote a 2.2k (unedited) drabble about satoru acting like you killed his grandma because you started napping without him 😭 here’s a little background info on my yakuza jjk au but it’s not necessary to read. masterlist. happy reading mwaaah 🫶🏽🩵

writing © getouyuri. dividers © thecutestgrotto. fanart © satsu1640.

Satoru loves taking naps.

The yakuza boss always looks forward to curling up close to his wife for a quick nap in the middle of the day, stretched out like the most comfortable of cats until he’s forced to pop right back up later and go straight back to work. Bi-weekly snooze sessions are the only thing that keep him powering through each week without collapsing like a house made of popsicle sticks.

(Aside from your very creative ways of motivating him, of course. You, on top of him from dawn to dusk, no breaks, raw, disgustingly sweaty, toes curling, bones cracking, bodies contorting in the most impossible angles that challenge what you both know about physics.)

Especially when he’s as tired as he is right now— he nearly ran into a wall while stumbling his way through the Gojo estate, delirious in his excitement to climb into bed and snuggle you to death.

So when he walks into your shared room and finds you already conked out, curtains drawn and room submerged in shadow, exaggerated betrayal flickers across his face. His left eye twitches like a machine gun. You were napping. Without him.

The deep-set fatigue that dogs him is impossible to miss; it’s in the way his eyelids droop just a fraction too long between blinks, the faint shadows beneath his usually bright ocean-blue eyes, the slight sluggishness to his movements. His temples throb, like a not-so-subtle reminder that his energy is a ticking time bomb.

In truth, Satoru hasn’t slept properly in days, between dealing with the Tora-gumi’s constant petty attacks and the Gojo clan’s elders that have been particularly relentless recently, questioning his leadership decisions, nagging about eventual succession (as if Yuuta’s presence in his life and role as his designated successor didn’t already shut those concerns down), and generally being a pain in his ass.

Nothing he couldn’t handle, of course, but dealing with them always left him drained in a way that no amount of violence or business negotiations ever did. But he refuses to admit it outright— pride and stubbornness are two of his most defining traits, after all.

Satoru crosses his arms, still squinting and pouting at you. This was unacceptable. Inexcusable. Not telling him that you were retiring for a quick nap might as well be considered treason.

Where was his nap invitation? Where were his snuggle rights and little coupon card paired with it? Who gave you permission to get all cozy enough to doze off without him plastered right next to you, drooling all over your shoulder and hogging the blankets?

Satoru’s entire being vibrates with the need to rectify this egregious injustice immediately.

“Oh, you’re in so much trouble, baby,” he breathes, tutting. Instead of deigning him with a proper response— you should be falling to your knees and sobbing your apologies, begging for his forgiveness, even though you’d never in your life do that— you give a soft, muffled smack of your lips that escapes the mountain of blankets on the bed. Clearly, someone’s having a good ass nap.

Your hair pokes out from the top of the covers in an adorable tuft. He’d recognize that messy mop anywhere, even if the rest of his wife was currently snuggled deep beneath a fortress of blankets and pillows, entirely hidden from view.

Satoru’s adorable pout instantly morphs into a shit-eating grin. His heart squeezes in his chest, his earlier excitement bubbling over again as he pads closer, fingers itching to mess with you. Crouching down beside the bed, he rests his chin on the edge of the mattress, palms sinking into the plush duvet to keep himself steady. His blue eyes gleam with a sleepy mischief as he studies the rhythmic rise and fall of the blanket pile— proof that you were very much alive, very much cozy, and (more importantly) very much about to have your nap ruined by your clingy-ass husband.

His long, ring-clad fingers curl into the blanket’s edge and peel it back just enough to reveal your face. For a second, Satoru just stares, mesmerized. His wife is gorgeous. Like, criminally, absolute-obliteration-of-self-and-other type of beautiful. Your hair is a softly frizzy mess, lips puffy with sleep and slightly parted as you breath slow.

"My angel is so pretty," he murmurs, utterly besotted as he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. You look so peaceful.

Normally, he’d feel a little bad waking you up— but no, not today. Today, he’s been deprived of you for three whole hours (the horror), he’s so tired that he’s seeing the hat man in the corners of his vision, and he’s not about to let you sleep without him.

Grinning, he bounces up from his spot crouched on the floor like a frog to instead lean over you, white hair flopping lazily over his forehead. Satoru guides that open jaw of yours shut with his fingertips, then squeezes your nostrils closed— just to be annoying.

"Pssst. Angel." He whispers, grinning when you snort in your sleep as your body starts to register that your airways are sealed off. "Baaaaabycakes. Wakey wakey, I missed you."

Only when you start to stir does he release your nose (he mimes pocketing it in his slacks). Then, for good measure, he blows a playful, obnoxiously loud raspberry right against your neck— because what better way to wake someone up than by being the absolute worst?

“Pooooo—“

“You will die in seven days.” You suddenly grumble in a sleepy rasp, not even opening your eyes. “In three, you’ll begin to cough. In five, you’ll begin to break out into hives.”

“—kie… oh, okay. That’s mean, princess," he huffs with faux hurt— but he’s still grinning like the lovestruck idiot he is. "But not as mean as you napping without me. I was hoping to get some shut-eye with my wife after a whole ass threeee hours of being away like the booked and busy man that I am, only to find that you had the audacity to go ahead and sleep without even considering me. Tch. Real cold, sweets.”

He’s being a petulant menace. Needy. Pathetic. He doesn’t care that he’s not at all the ruthless crime lord that he typically is right now. Satoru’s as heartbroken as the day he found out that that one place in Shinjuku stopped selling their chocolate and caramel stuffed mochi. It was his favorite. He weeped a little outside of the store as you gently tugged him away, fond exasperation glittering in your eyes.

How can he call himself the oyabun that has it all when he can’t even get his favorite fucking sweet treats? And now, apparently, can’t even get sleepy time with his wife?

You shuffle in place with a grumpy furrow between your brows, silently simmering at being shaken out of dreamland, and he snatches at the edge of the blanket again right as you try to tug it right back up over your head. “I didn’t realize I had to fill out a time card recording when I’ll nap or not.”

“Baby,” Satoru gasps. He leans in closer, forehead nearly bumping yours, blue eyes wide and watery with crocodile tears. You crack your own eyes open at that, blinking tiredly at him. Your lashes clump together, sticky with sleep. “Are you kidding me? You should’ve already been marking time cards. Naptime isn’t just sacred— it’s special. And I thought we had something special!”

A staged sob rattles his chest. He presses his free hand against it, clutching at the fabric of his dress shirt as if trying to keep his heart from leaping out and splatting at your feet. “This is why they say the prettiest ones can’t be trusted. I should file for divorce over this heinous act of betrayal, wifey. I don’t know if I can ever recover from this.” His tone drips with the emotional maturity of a golden retriever with separation anxiety.

You thump your head back against the pillow, praying that someone ends your suffering early. “You’re dramatic.”

“No, I’m not. I’m real. I’m authentic. I’m hurt. My feelings are sooo valid, baby, and you’re dismissing them like I’m one of your side hoes!” Satoru wails.

His face scrunches up in exaggerated offense, his pout making a grand reappearance even as he, devastating gentle, wipes a dried line of spit from beneath your lip with his thumb. Quietly, Satoru preens a little at being able to see you at your most unguarded, your most ungraceful.

“Toru?” You call out in a little croak instead of bothering to play into his bullshit.

Oh, he’s already dead. He’s cooked.

Satoru’s big blue eyes round out impossibly further as if he’s been struck by Cupid’s arrow— which, admittedly, he kinda has been every single day for the past few years since he started seeing you.

You sound so fucking adorable when you’re half-asleep. That groggy little mumble of his nickname that you only pull out when you need to tug at his strings, the way you lift a hand to cup his that lingers beneath your mouth and you nuzzle your cheek into his calloused palm... it makes his head spin with an overwhelming wave of affection. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were cartoonish birdies twirling around him. He could just eat you up.

You’re clearly utilizing his weakness for that nickname and your adorable sleepiness to your advantage to sway this in your favor (and he falls for it).

And people say that he’s the conniving menace…

You purse your lips in a little pout, a rare sight outside of your most private moments that you share with him (even though this pout’s awfully calculated), and Satoru’s heart damn near explodes. “Just come cuddle with me, baby. ‘M so tired… and so cold without you,” you complain.

His aloof, sarcastic, prideful wife? Whining for cuddles like a lovesick kitten? You’ve got him hook, line, and sinker. Of course you want him close; who wouldn’t want to bask in his heavenly presence? “Aw, look at you, all clingy and sweet!” Satoru coos, gently stroking your cheek and peering down at you with sparkling eyes. He just barely resists pinching your soft skin, knowing that you’d probably bite his finger off for that. “I could never say no to you, even if you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes.”

You sleepily smile up at him, smug.

The oyabun of the Gojo-gumi wastes absolutely no time in shoving his pants down his long legs, toeing off his socks with zero grace, and kicking them aside on the floor (he’ll pick them up later… probably). He’s left in just his black button-up and boxers, but even the button-up is quickly unbuttoned and discarded too, because he’s been in business attire for too long today and he wants to be comfortable. It joins the pile on the floor.

Right now, the only thing that matters is snuggling. His. Wife.

With zero hesitation nor warning, Satoru takes a few steps back, rolling his neck and bouncing a little on his heels. “Satoru,” you immediately warn, more lucidity coloring your eyes as you start to tense in on yourself. You quickly grasp at the blankets, starting to bunch them up around you again and burying your head right back beneath them— as if they’ll even do anything to shield you. “Don’t. If you fucking land on me, I’ll—“

You cut yourself off with a disgruntled groan as Satoru takes a running jump and vaults over you to land on the free space next to you, making the mattress bounce and nearly launching you through the high roof. He doesn’t give you time to complain, practically diving into the lump of blankets that house his precious wife with the smoothness of a damn seal sliding into water.

He worms through the blankets until he finds your warm, soft body, his bright blue eyes squinting playfully in the dim warmth of your little hideaway. You meet his gaze with an unimpressed tilt to your lips, jutting your chin out, and immediately, he flips you around, pulling your back flush against his chest until you’re tucked together like two spoons in a drawer. Satoru’s long limbs drape over you in a possessively needy tangle.

“Mmm… this is what I’ve been missing,” Satoru sighs gratefully, finally content. His aching body sinks into the memory foam beneath him, the blankets cushioning you both in their cloud-like embrace and chasing out the air chugging through the Gojo estate’s vents. “It’s nice and cozy in here with my wifey.”

He buries his face into your nape, inhaling your scent deeply. There’s your natural scent paired with something warm and sweet, comfortingly so; cocoa butter and freshly baked shortcake. Satoru makes a mental note to ask if you actually made one or if you’re trying a new body wash after you two wake up in a few hours. He presses a slow, wet kiss right under your ear, smiling into your skin when you shiver a little.

“Are you happy now that you’ve ruined my peace?” You mumble dryly, yet you sink into him all the same. Your tone is sarcastic (as per usual) and tinted with a drowsy sort of warmth that makes him want to kick his feet like a schoolgirl. It’s his fuel. You wiggle back against him to slot yourself against him more comfortably, the backs of your knees pressed against the tops of his and your ass sitting in the cradle of his pelvis.

(Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard, he silently coaches himself. If Satoru kept you awake any longer by whining and begging you to deal with a throbbing boner, you’d mercilessly toss him in a dog cage. And he very much likes sleeping in this expensive ass bed with you, a splurge he justified as necessary, because god forbid his wife doesn’t get to rest in pure luxury.)

“Yup. But it’s okay, princess, I’ll send you right back off to dreamland. It’s my job as your devoted guard dog, your vice president, and your humble servant. And are you ashamed now that you see how much your hubby needed this?” Satoru murmurs, but there’s no real bite to it. If anything, he’s pitched softer now, the playful facade slipping out with the exhale he expels through his nose.

The tiredness in his voice makes you pause. With that, you start to shift in his arms, and thinking you’re trying to escape (when really, you’re just trying to properly assess him despite the fact that you’re already half-asleep again), he latches on tighter. “I thought you wanted me here? C’monnn, gimme all those cuddles you owe me,” he complains, trying to kiss your neck until you give up, which you laugh softly at.

“Satoru. Let go, I’m trying to turn around,” you yawn, and he complies even though he’s content in this position. The second you shift to face him on your side, he’s already adjusting, tucking an arm beneath your head as a makeshift pillow and draping the other over your body to pull you in close. Satoru takes a moment to admire your camisole and satin sleep shorts, but your eyes draw him right back in.

Your half-lidded eyes flit over him with a sharpness befitting of you. You’ve always been too perceptive, always seeing right through him. It’s one of the many things he adores about you, even when it’s inconvenient. Like now, when you take in the way his shoulders sag ever so slightly under the weight of exhaustion he’s been hiding, usual boundless energy dampened, and how the circles under his eyes (usually hidden behind his sunglasses) are strikingly visible this up close.

The Gojo-gumi doesn’t slow down just because Satoru’s tired. Ryomen doesn’t stop plotting against him just because he wants a damn nap. But for this moment, with his wife’s leg hiking up around his waist to keep him trapped (thank god) and your breaths fanning over his neck when you tuck your face there, both of you hidden away beneath the blankets like children at a sleepover, he can pretend the world stops for you both.

“Let’s go to sleep. I still have an alarm running that’ll wake us up,” you yawn again, long and near-silent; cat-like. Satoru hums, a soft rumble that radiates through your squished-together chests, already half-lost to drowsiness. He settles his chin on top of your hair, a few unruly strands of which tickle gently at his lips, and his breathing begins evening out.

“‘Kay… Mmm, you’re so warm. Comfy as hell, too. Love you," he mumbles. His words are slurred with exhaustion, but the devotion behind them is undeniable. He’s already melting into you, body lax against yours that’s already soft with sleep from your interrupted nap, eager to get some z’s.

When you don’t respond, he figures you’re gone with the wind already. Satoru works his jaw a little bit until something clicks and loosens, then closes his eyes. He could stay like this forever, honestly. He presses his fingers just a little heavier against the exposed skin of your lower back, just a subconscious need to touch, to remind himself you’re really here, and passes out just like that.

perma tags: @libr4sonsa @spirit-kat @kaitospo @m1nrrva @enchantinghonymoon @shokogasm @dairyfaerie @pvmpkingod @skz8stay @floriophrastus @originalsaucy @loyalguma @wormplant @amane1271 @oporotheca @teachmehowtodokiaye @dogwhiskey @sunnydayqq

#⛅️ aisha is typing…#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk fic #jjk drabble #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #yakuza jjk au

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lunarcowgirl · 2 months ago

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feelings unfettered | three

I am a helpless victim of my own crush on this man, take a part three of my goofy little jack abbot x f!doctor!reader fic <33

you can read part one here, and part two here !!

not my gif! but i am foaming at the mouth because of it! follow @ho-ii for all your juicy jack abbot gif needs x

yeah, there's something in the air at your shared post-confession breakfast. and it's not just 50 years worth of oil from the diner fryer.

from the office of the author: literally obsessed with my own creations so I've made a part three. it's not my fault, blame shawn and his facial structure and chosen character aura of dork/loser/demon-in-the-sheets. more soon? i'm scared of smut but then again i'm scared of not seeing these two get freaky

REQUESTS IN THE ASK BOX PLS!!!

warnings/content: 10+ year age gap, very EaRNEST feelings from these two, mentions of the horrors of american foods, author disrespects consistent perspective and grammatical rules like they owe her money, veryyyy minimal angst, mostly fluff, someone gets a their ass grabbed as a treat <33

word count: 2.6k (woooo baby we're back)

Dr Abbot considered himself to be in control of his own hands at all times and places thank you very much. He had over 30 years of experience in the profession of control. He had studied it, mastered it. It was not his fault that just 20 minutes prior to this moment your lips had been at his throat and your body so very soft under his touch. Now the mere two feet of sticky diner table between the two of you seemed an ocean. Would it be so strange, he pondered, to pull your chair around to be beside him? To bump knees and elbows into each other, for plates to stack and glasses to get mixed up in the bubble of space carved just for the two of you? He coughed slightly at the path of his own brain, embarrassed at the enormity of his feelings.

You were focused on the menu, eyes ticking down the options with care, lips formed into a rosebud pout. Jack wanted to crawl across the divide and kiss you silly, to taste the sweetness and the redness and to hear your heartbeat’s call from your throat. He wanted to feel that fizzing life under his hands, he wanted you to laugh your laugh into his mouth so he could swallow it whole, he wanted—

The shrill screech of a pack of kids attempting a prison break called him swiftly to earth, their poor father one poorly timed arm barrier away from a dislocated shoulder. He really, really, didn’t want to have to be a doctor right now. In fact, it seemed mighty appealing to give up the healing business altogether and put all his energy into memorising every last thing there was to know about you. Some dam wall within him had broken up on the roof, now every truth he’d covered up and hidden and repressed now sitting out in the unfettered daylight. It was terrifying…and exhilarating.

“I can never decide between sweet and savoury when it comes to breakfast.” You declared, slamming the menu down in a huff.

An endeared smile twitched at the corner of Jack’s mouth. He filed the information away, “Why not have both?”

Your eyebrows raised just a touch, a smirk appearing, “Why Dr Abbot, what a dangerous proposition…”

Jack shrugged, if only to dislodge the growing warmth in his chest, “When was the last time you ate? Your body could do with the carbs and sugar.”

In a flash your hand was across the table, grabbing his and raising it to your mouth. Two quick kisses were pressed to his knuckles, “Finally, a man that supports women’s right to choose both.”

You bit your bottom lip at your own cheek, winked and carefully deposited his hand back to him in exchange for the menu once more.

Oh God he was going to eat. You. Alive. You looked so innocent, as you kindly waved over a waitress, ordering in a clear, polite voice. What he wouldn’t give to have that polite mouth all over him.

For two people who had spent more time in uniform than either would like to admit, you had vastly different approaches to the return to American food. Jack had remained staunch in his habits, maintaining his belief that well-done toast with bacon and eggs was all a person really needed. Butter, perhaps, if one felt luxurious. You on the other hand, had spent each and every moment on foreign soil waiting for the moment you could feel the preservatives hit your veins again.

“I don’t care that I’m a doctor,” You said, smoothing cream across your already syrup soaked waffle, “If food cannot hold pleasure, then neither can life.”

Jack had finished his meal in a flash, eating like he was being chased. Now he had all the time in the world to lean back and watch you, noting and labelling every pronouncement and observation you made, filing them away in a little part of his mind that until now, he hadn’t allowed himself to open.

You took a big bite, nose scrunching in delight, shoulders dancing at an amount of sugar running through your system that would likely kill a small child. Jack was keeping a very firm hold on his own elbows, fingers digging into the skin to prevent it from falling straight off his bones. There was syrup, right in the corner of your mouth that you hadn’t noticed, lost in your own ecstasy.

The older he’d become, the easier is was to just surrender. To drift. His hand swept across the table in one smooth motion, his thumb finding your skin, wiping the sugar away. Your eyes flew open, surprise bright and red and hot on your cheeks. One soft blink, another - like you were seeing him for the very first time. His touch lingered there, drawing a soft reverent line across your bottom lip, relishing the fullness of it. If he couldn’t have those lips on his face, his neck and mouth, then he��d have them all over his fingers. It was barely a thought then, to draw back and bring his thumb into his own mouth. The man that never even looked sideways at sugar having his fill of it, and you.

There was something unreadable on your face as your gaze flicked across him, hunger maybe, hope. And then the flash of your tongue across your lip - finding just the remnants of him there, the butter he’d had on them from picking apart his toast. You feasted on each other from opposite sides of the table, rolling tastes across your tongue, finding them satisfactory, finding them addicting. If the appetizers where this good; the main meal was set to fill an empty stomach that had ached for a long, long time.

Waffle forgotten, Jack watched as you dived into your purse, rustling out a haphazard chunk of bills, tucking them quickly under the nearest plate.

“Wait, I’ll pay—”

“If we do not leave right now,” You hissed, “I am going to jump you in front of those very nice families.”

Jack made a bizarre croaking noise, his laugh getting lost somewhere in a cough. All the same, he dutifully rose to his feet, only somehow remembering to grab his backpack and coat. The pair of your writhed down the tight aisle towards the door, struggling to bundle up, not make any unnecessary contact with each other or send coffee flying into anyone’s laps. Bursting into the street, your head twisted this way and that, as if you couldn’t quite remember where you were or what you were supposed to be doing.

“Hey, hey…” Jack reached your side, gently taking your hand in his, “It’s ok, there’s no rush.”

You let out a slow breath, dancing from foot to foot, “Well we might have to rush, cause I don’t have gloves and I kinda need my fingers for work.”

Jack smiled, the biggest one you’d seen, “Well then hand the others over.” With both of your hands in his he pulled you gently to him, lifting your important doctoring tools to his mouth. Warm air blew across them, quickly followed by heat down your arms and into your chest and heart.

This close to him, so bundled up and protected and safe, you let a truth fall out onto the iced pavement.

“I’m scared you’re going to disappear.”

Jack frowned, moving your hands aside so they remained warm pressed against his face, “Why do you say that?”

“Well,” You shuffled nervously under the intensity of his gaze, “I hate to get into it all in the immense privacy offered by this public street.”

He cocked an eyebrow in subtle amusement but didn’t say a word, silently urging you on.

“You have a bit of a record of running hot and cold. And while this is obviously the hottest you’ve ever been, and I really mean that in all senses of the word, well…” You fought for the right words, wanting desperately not to push him away, but wanting to honour the twin desire of respecting your own heart.

Jack nodded slowly, letting the faint grey stubble rasp gently across your hands, “That makes a lot of sense.”

A breath you hadn’t realised you were holding released, the desire to run melted into nothingness, your feet stilled.

“I am sorry for being so…unreadable all this time. It was my own selfish way of keeping myself protected while also getting to have tastes of you,” He offered, eyes a little sad.

You just couldn’t help it, the vulnerability of his gorgeous, perpetually cranky man was going to have you on your knees.

He ploughed on, oblivious to the effect his words were having, “It’s not that the tastes weren’t good or that I didn’t want more…they were too good. Too powerful, too…” He shrugged, “fucking scary.”

Tears were threatening to make a fool of you, so you quickly popped onto your tip toes, lips now seeking the warmth of his own. He relinquished his hold on your hands to slide his fingers to the back of your neck and around your waist, drawing you up and up and up until you thought you would float out into space.

Behind you the door crashed open, spilling dozens of children out into the street, rushing to get to school, their parents furiously clucking and scolding and shooing them along. Caught in the swarm, the pair of you clung to each other, cheeks pressed tightly together to maintain some kind of mutual centre of gravity.

“Ok,” You laughed, “Now I seriously have to get you alone.”

Jack gently extracted himself so he could face you again, his large hands still encasing yours.

“As much as I want that…and believe me—,” His eyes were dark, “I want that—I think we should take this slow.”

You ducked your head, something that felt like embarrassment churning in your gut. You were the one just expressing fear at his intentions, and now you were surprised he didn’t want to take you in the street?

He took your chin gently and lifted your eyes up to meet his. So many times, you had found that gaze across a trauma table, something horrible and twisted stretched out between you, so many times you had found trust and respect and understanding in those eyes. They never failed to steady you, then and now.

“I would like to take you out sometime. Somewhere other than the diner across the street from the train station,” He said, earnestness clear in each word.

You couldn’t help it, you laughed.

“You can call me old fashioned,” He said, smile wide, “I don’t care — I’m old.”

You reached up and took his face in your hands, thumbs smoothing across his skin that had seen and weathered a lot of grief and pain. You were ready to show him some joy.

“I’d love that,” Came your simple reply, “And you might be old, but that means you’re wise. And there’s nothing sexier than a man with wisdom.”

He scoffed, wrestling you playfully down under his arm, lightly pinching your side until you shrieked with laughter and danced away.

“You are trouble.” He called, as you skipped away from him, “Trouble!”

In the end he caught you before you could dash up to the train platform, insisting again that his old-fashioned ways wouldn’t allow him to let you take public transport when he had a perfectly good passenger seat in his truck.

You curled comfortably up in the leather, relishing the seat warmer and Jack’s hand sandwiched between both of yours on your lap. Every now and then, you’d peek over your shoulder just so you could see your backpacks sitting next to each other in the backseat. You felt altogether giddy, and at peace - completely beside yourself with your luck.

“It wasn’t luck,” Jack said, eyes not shifting from the road, his free hand placed with precision at 2 o’clock on the wheel. You had said the words aloud without realising, your heart now altogether open.

“Well it feels like luck.” You replied, gently tracing the lines on the back of Jack’s hand. “Very nice dorsal metacarpel veins by the way.”

He let out a puff of a laugh, then repeated himself, “It wasn’t luck.”

“Then what was it, did I subconsciously bewitch you with the speed of my oxygen concentration calculations?”

“They are very impressive; you are way fucking quicker than I will ever be at them. But no,” He looked over at you, “It’s because you are brave.”

You returned to your tracing, but it was difficult to find the lines with tears in your eyes.

“You never let your mistakes define you, you are brave enough to try again. You choose to keep being happy, you are brave enough to keep fighting. You kept seeing something in me, even when I wasn’t brave enough to let you in.”

“Jesus,” You muttered, “This is why you never talk; you’d have people falling to their knees for you every minute of the day.”

His hand in your lap squeezed, “No, that didn’t just come from nowhere. I’ve been thinking those things for a long, long time.”

“You are worth being brave for,” Your words were quiet, but they felt heavy and steady in the space between you both.

You looked up and realised with a start you had made it to your street, your apartment building just a few feet in front of you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come up? After that speech the least I can do is offer you a tea?”

He reached over and tucked a piece of hair that had escaped from your braid behind your ear, careful not to bump your still healing piercing, “You don’t want me snoring on your couch, which is what I will be doing before the tea cools.”

“No,” You said, returning the favour by tucking a curl behind his ear, “I want you snoring in my bed.”

“God dammit James,” He groaned leaning back into his seat and running his hands over his face, “You are gonna kill me, I swear to God.”

“Don’t sound so—” A yawn overtook your words, “—pleased.”

He gave you a pointed look, “If we’re gonna do this, let’s at least be awake for it.”

You unclipped yourself, leant back into the backseat for your bag (sure to give Jack a full and unobstructed view of your favourite personal asset) and turned to open your door. At the last moment, you twisted back to him, face set.

He raised his eyebrows, a slightly braced smirk sitting on his face.

“If you’re not going to accept a lady’s very polite invitation upstairs then you legally have to do me a favour.”

The eyebrows shot down over a suspecting set of narrowed eyes, “This sounds dangerous.”

“Not at all,” You grinned, “Although…I thought you liked danger.”

“Like I said, you’re gonna kill me.”

“I’ve worked a tough shift Jack. A tough night shift. A girl sometimes needs a little extra something to give her the energy to make it up the front stairs.”

You leaned in with each word, letting your hand trail down his arm from his shoulder until you clasped around his wrist. Mouths inches from each other, you breathed in his anticipation, his hunger.

In one smooth motion you brought his hand to your ass, and closed your lips over his.

Something that tasted awfully like a moan slipped from his tongue to yours, and you relished each little bit of it. His hand squeezed, just a touch, as if unable to help itself. You released him with a pop, schooling your features into an innocent smile, and nudging the door open with your hip.

“I’ll see you at work Dr Abbot.”

A beat. A man restarting his heart, his brain.

“I’ll see you at work Trouble.”

~~~~

all for now, thanks for the luv xo

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#the pitt #jack abbot #jack abbott #jack abbot fic #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt fic #the pitt fluff #dr jack abbot #dr abbot #jack abbot x you #jack abbot angst #jack abbot fluff #jack abbot fanfiction #jack abbot x female reader #persiewrites

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xislyns · 3 months ago

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may I please request a Luffy x fem reader where they encounter an enemy who’s devil fruit makes people reveal the truth which ends up with Luffy confessing his feelings for the reader and leaves him all embarrassed and the rest of the crew in shock. maybe he even says something along the lines of “I think y/n looks cute when she’s wearing my straw hat” idk, I just had this thought I hope it makes sense cause I feel like it would be super adorable! thank you!!

AWW WAIT I SEE THE VISION thats so fucking cute , 😭😭

𐙚Luffy's confession..

characters : Monkey D. Luffy x Reader

summary : The strawhats were met with an Enemy who has came onboard on the sunny, wielding the truth-truth fruit, the fruit that causes the victim to speak out the secrets hidden in the depths of their heart.

── .✦ The Thousand Sunny was alive with its usual chaos, Zoro was napping in the sun, Sanji was cooking up something delicious in the kitchen, and Nami was scolding Usopp for his latest invention that had somehow messed with her map collection. You were perched near the bow of the ship, enjoying the breeze and smell of the ocean waters. Luffy, as always, was sitting high on the mast, grinning like the dork he was, with his iconic straw hat sitting nicely on his head.

but the environment suddenly turned gloomy, The sea turned eerily calm, a dark figure had emerged from the mist. the same figure who is the cause of the sudden change, stood on a small boat, his strange appearance made even more unsettling by his wild grin.

“I am Verità, The wielder of the Truth Truth Fruit,” the man announced, his voice echoing unnaturally. “Anyone within my aura cannot tell a lie. Beware, Straw Hat Pirates, for your secrets will betray you!"

“Oh, great,” Usopp groaned. “Another weird Devil Fruit guy.”

Before anyone could act, Verità raised his hand, and a shimmering wave of energy washed over the ship. It was subtle at first, but then you felt a strange feeling in your stomach.

“I’ve always hated Sanji’s soufflés,” Zoro blurted out, his eyes wide in horror in his own words.

Sanji dropped his spatula. “WHAT?!”

“I think Chopper’s transformation is creepy ” Nami yelped, clapping a hand over her mouth too late.

The chaos spread quickly, and you tried your best to stay quiet, but your gaze was drawn to Luffy. He stood frozen, looking unusually serious for once. You could see redness creeping up his neck and ears. Then, in a voice uncharacteristically soft and hesitant, he said:

“I think Y/N looks really cute when she’s wearing my straw hat.”

The chaos seemed to stop. almost tso silent that you can hear the dropping of a needle. Every eye on the Sunny locked on to Luffy, who now looked like he wanted to disappear forever.

“WHAT?!” you and the crew exclaimed in unison.

Luffy yanked his hat down over his face, his voice muffled as he continued to speak, completely unable to stop himself. “And… I like her smiles. And I think about holding her hand a lot. And I want her to stay by my side forever because I… I love her.”

The silence was deafening. Luffy’s words hung in the air, leaving everyone in stunned disbelief. Sanji’s cigarette fell from his lips. Usopps eyes looked like they were going to bust from their sockets. Even Zoro’s usual stoic demeanor cracked with raised eyebrows.

You, on the other hand, felt your face heat up as you stared on at Luffy. He peeked out from under his hat, his cheeks bright red. “Uh.. I didn’t really mean to say all that. but, I mean, I did, but-”

Before he could dig himself into a deeper hole, you stepped forward, your heart pounding. Reaching outto him, and took his hand. “Luffy… I think you’re cute too,” you said softly, smiling at him.

His eyes widened, and then his signature grin broke out across his face, despite the embarrassment. “Really?!”

“Really,” you replied. And, without thinking, luffy picked up his straw hat and placed it on your head while his smile got bigger and his head tilted slightly

The crew erupted into laughter, and teasing. Sanji dramatically declared he was robbed, while Robin and Franky exchanged knowing smiles . Luffy just stood there, his grin stretching wider than ever as he took your hand and held it tight.

Verità watched the scene with an amused smirk, his presence seemingly forgotten in the midst of Luffy’s unexpected confession. He cleared his throat dramatically, pulling attention back to himself.

“Touching , But don’t think this little love story will be able to save you "

“Ugh, can’t we have one peaceful moment?” Nami groaned,rolling her eyes.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Zoro replied, cracking his knuckles and stepping forward, his normal stoic look returning to his face.

As the crew fought , the two of you couldnt help but stay side by side, Luffy’s hat resting comfortably on your head while you fought.

even though this wasnt how he thought it would happen, He cant lie it certainly was easier!

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rooksamoris · 9 days ago

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At first he had prayed to all that was holy that this most recent argument would be the last. That you would take a hint and start avoiding him in the halls. Finally, he thought, he could rest. Leona was wrong. The two nights spent away from you left him restless. It was much too quiet, not a sound for his sharp ears to follow.

And the silence began to drag him deep into the depths of the ocean, tugging him down. He was powerless to stop them. Tendrils, sharp and thorned, wrapped themselves around him as the threat of never reaching above the water became more and more plausible. He could see the blurry image of a smile he loved, he could hear the echoes of a laugh he treasured. Wrapping it up in a box and stuffing it under his bed. It was his, but it remained hidden. He was too scared to reopen it and reveal the truth of everything.

Leona's lungs were filled with salty water, scratching away at his rib-cage, stinging his raw organs, breaking through his veins. Those tendrils pierced his skin, curling their way up his legs, around his waist, muffling his thoughts with distractions. The scent of blood.

He found himself in front of you once again, before the third night could even begin. The rain hit against his skin, his hair flattened and curled with the weight of tears he refused to shed. His brows knitted as he looked at you.

It all would have been so much easier if you chose to speak, but you did not. It was arrogant to expect you to, after the things he said. He knew better than to yell, but cold, quiet, and bitter words had the ability to hurt so much more than he realized. He was hoping he would push you away, take your box of smiles and laughter with you so he would never have to think about what those eyes and that grin did to him. How it stripped him of his skin, leaving the most easily harmed parts of him available for the plucking of scavengers.

You stared at him, your lips tugged into the softest of frowns, your eyes conflicted. On one hand, you wanted to bring him in and keep him warm, and on the other, you were still hurt by his words. It was never normal for him to become like that, you knew well how comfortable it was to be loved by Leona Kingscholar, but it did not make you any less apprehensive.

He reached a hand out, but pulled back, deciding against touching you. After what seemed like a century under the ocean, stuck in the dark corners of some abandoned ship, weighed down by ropes of inky black, he spoke, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to mess this up for good, chaguo langu (my choice).”

©rooksamoris 2025. do not steal or translate my work!

support me on ko-fi!

#💖 — amoris writes #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader

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mephisto-reporting · 5 months ago

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Hidden in Plain Sight: Xavier

Premise: You were a Lemurian, hidden in plain sight. It was never a probelm.. until you started dating Xavier. With Ebb Day approaching, would you be able to hide it from him? Based on this request. Pairing: Lemurian! Reader x Xavier Note: Reader and Xavier are dating. Let me know if you want to be a part of my taglist.

The first time you met Xavier, he was asleep. Just lying there, tucked into himself like the world had nothing to do with him, breathing slow and deep as if he had all the time in the universe. You had nearly walked past him, assuming he was just some drifter seeking rest. But when his eyes fluttered open—serene, unreadable, and just a little too knowing and then you felt something shift.

You hadn’t realized then how much those moments would mean to you.

Xavier, with his quiet presence, had slipped into your life like water filling the cracks between stones. He wasn't expressive in the way most humans were, but you learned to read him in other ways. The way his fingers would tap against his knee when he was thinking. The slight tilt of his head when you said something that amused him, the way his lips would quirk up when he teased you.

He could be so endearing in ways that left you breathless, and then frustrating in ways that made you want to shove him. Like when he let himself doze off during Kitty Cards, giving you the perfect opportunity to cheat—not that you ever would. Or when he gave you the choice to go first at the claw machine, watching you struggle with an intensity that was almost unnerving before effortlessly plucking out a prize with an ease that made you groan.

"You looked like you were having fun." he’d say with the barest flicker of mischief in his eyes.

You loved these things about him.

And yet, for all the time you had spent together, for all the things he had come to know about you—he didn't know everything.

Not about the tail you kept hidden. Not about the faint, iridescent scales that shimmered beneath your skin. Not about your eyes that burned too brightly if you let loose.

Because you weren’t human.

You had lived among them long enough that it was easy to forget. You had learned their mannerisms, spoken their language, adapted. But some things never truly went away. The memories of what had happened to your kind—the stories whispered in hushed voices about Lemurians who had been taken, kept as pets, their freedom stolen the moment the seas had begun to recede.

You had no idea how Xavier would react.

Moreover, you were scared that these distinct Lemurian features would be less than appealing to him. You had been insecure about them all your life. Why could you not just be human? Why be ‘blessed’ with these features? You had asked these questions ever since you learned of your heritage.

The fever came in waves, each one worse than the last.

Your body ached, limbs trembling as cold sweat clung to your skin. The sheets beneath you were damp, tangled around your restless form as you tossed and turned. Your head felt like it was underwater—sounds were distant and muffled, light blurred at the edges of your vision. The glowing patterns along your arms flickered weakly, no longer hidden beneath your usual disguise. You were slipping.

You knew this would happen.

It was Ebb Day.

The day the tides receded so far they exposed the ocean’s hidden skeleton, when the land remembered the sea and the sea remembered its people. A day of human celebration—festivals, fireworks, lanterns drifting in the dusk sky. And for Lemurians like you, it was the weakest, most vulnerable time of the year.

You had lived among humans for so long, buried your Lemurian blood so deep, that you almost believed you belonged among them. Almost.

But here, now, in the sweltering heat of your fever, reality crashed over you like a wave. The truth of what you were—of what you had hidden, burned through you with every aching breath.

The soft fins along your arms trembled as chills wracked your body. Your eyes, usually dulled for the sake of blending in, pulsed faintly with their unnatural glow.

It was Ebb Day. And Xavier had wanted to spend it with you.

The way he had asked—softly, earnestly, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered—made your chest ache with guilt. You had said yes before you could stop yourself.

Lemurians were at their weakest during Ebb Day. When the tides pulled away, so did the strength in your limbs. Fever. Chills. A gnawing, unbearable exhaustion. You had known it was coming, and yet the moment you felt the first waves of heat rolling through your body, you cursed your own weakness.

When you called Xavier to tell him you were sick, his reaction was everything you expected—calm, understanding, not even a hint of disappointment in his voice.

You didn’t know how he would react if he found out. You didn’t know if his care for you would falter if he saw you like this—if he knew what you were.

You had heard the stories. When the sea dried up, when the Lemurians lost their sanctuary, they were no longer seen as people. They were pets, slaves, exotic things to be admired and owned. And even now, even after centuries, whispers of those days remained.

Would Xavier see you that way, too?

A fresh wave of fever rolled over you, and you whimpered, curling in on yourself. The room was too hot. No—too cold. You couldn’t tell anymore. The world swayed around you, everything tilting in and out of focus. Your fingers trembled as you ran them over your arms, feeling the faint ridges of scales pushing through too-sensitive skin. You were changing, slipping, losing control—

A noise.

Soft. Barely there. But enough.

Footsteps. The faintest creak of your door.

"You're burning up, aren’t you?."

Xavier’s voice.

It should have been comforting. Instead, it sent ice through your veins.

You forced your eyes open. Your vision swam, a hazy blur of heat and dizziness, but you could see him. Standing there, his brows slightly furrowed, the usual neutrality in his face edged with something sharper. Concern.

Your body went rigid.

No.

No, no, no.

Xavier was here.

A surge of panic cut through the weakness in your limbs. You tried to move, tried to pull the blankets higher, to hide yourself, but your body refused to cooperate. Your strength had long since abandoned you.

And then there was warmth.

A hand against your forehead, cool against the burning of your skin. You flinched, but Xavier didn’t pull away. His touch was steady, grounding.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?"

Your throat felt raw. Your head spun. You wanted to answer, to explain, but the words tangled in your mouth, too heavy to speak.

His gaze flickered downward, and instinctively, you followed his line of sight—

You clenched your eyes shut. Maybe if you didn’t look at him, if you pretended hard enough, he wouldn’t see.

But then…

“You’re glowing.”

Your stomach dropped.

His fingers brushed over your cheek, slow, unhurried. Not startled. Not repulsed. Just tracing the faint luminescence that had broken free from your control. You didn’t dare open your eyes.

“I—” Your voice cracked. You swallowed against the tightness in your throat, but the words wouldn’t come.

Xavier exhaled softly. The bed dipped as he sat beside you.

“You should have told me,” he said, voice even but quiet. "You're a Lemurian." It wasn't a question but more of an observation.

Shame coiled deep in your chest.

“I couldn’t.”

A pause. The warmth of his hand never left your skin.

“…Why?”

Because you were afraid. Because you didn’t want to see the shift in his expression, the hesitation, the unease. Because you wanted to keep this—this strange, wonderful thing between you, the way he let you see the softer edges of himself, the way he looked at you like you were something worth protecting.

Because you didn’t want to lose him.

Your fingers clenched weakly in the sheets. “Lemurians… aren’t safe among humans. I was… scared.”

A moment of silence. Then—

“You don’t think you’re safe with me?”

Your breath hitched.

You opened your eyes then, just barely. The dim light of your room flickered, casting soft shadows over Xavier’s face. His gaze met yours—steady, unreadable, but impossibly gentle.

And there it was.

No fear. No disgust. No cold detachment.

Just Xavier. Just the boy who fell asleep in ridiculous places, the boy who let you win at Kitty Cards, the boy who would throw himself between you and danger without hesitation.

And maybe it was the fever, maybe it was the exhaustion, but something inside you cracked.

A choked sound left you—half a laugh, half a sob.

“Xavier,” you whispered. “You… you’re ridiculous.”

His hand moved before you could react. Slow, deliberate, pressing against the space just above your wrist, where the scales were faintest. His thumb brushed over them, testing, as if he were memorizing the texture.

"You could have told me," he said, voice as steady as ever. But there was something else there now, something you couldn’t place.

"I was scared." you admitted, barely a whisper.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his fingers curled around your wrist, his touch firm, grounding.

"You don't have to be," he murmured. Then, softer, almost teasing, "And here I thought I was the one keeping secrets."

You blinked at him, your thoughts fuzzy as the fever swirled inside your head. "Secrets?" you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. The words felt heavy, like you were trying to carry something too much for you in this state. "What secrets, Xavier?"

He looked at you, his expression still unreadable, but there was an odd tenderness in his gaze. His fingers curled around your wrist, as if grounding both you and himself in this shared moment. He hesitated, his lips pressing together in a thin line, before he spoke again, quieter this time.

"I’ll tell you everything when you're feeling better," he murmured. "But for now... you just need to rest. Listen to your body."

You nodded weakly, your exhaustion making your eyelids heavy. Yet, there was a flutter of anxiety in your chest—something tight, something uncertain. You swallowed hard, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"I was... worried. About my fins... my scales... my eyes." You stammered, the fear bubbling to the surface despite your best efforts to keep it hidden. "I thought it would... freak you out."

Xavier’s hand paused. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his thumb stroked gently over the skin of your wrist, the sensation grounding in a way that calmed the storm of your thoughts. His gaze softened, and he leaned closer to you, the coolness of his breath a slight contrast to the burning fever that gripped you.

“Shhh…" he murmured, a comforting sound. "None of that. None of it would ever freak me out." His voice was soft but firm, a reassurance in the midst of your fear.

He pressed a finger to your lips before you could protest further. "You’re beautiful. Ethereal, even. A person like you," he hesitated for a moment, searching your face as if trying to hold you in a gaze that would keep the words safe, "would never, ever be something to be afraid of. You are perfect as you are."

You inhaled sharply, the words too gentle, too much for you to process in your state. Your heart fluttered—faint and weak, like the softest ripple of water—but it was there, beating, and somehow calming.

Xavier continued, his voice a low murmur as he reached out again. His touch was soft, as if he were afraid to break you, his fingers moving gently along the soft curve of your wrist before moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Whenever you feel comfortable... I’d like to see the real you," he said, a playful note creeping into his voice despite the situation. "Maybe... maybe I could see your tail, too?" He paused, his lips quirking slightly. "I have no doubt it would take my breath away."

The words left you breathless, but in a way that made you feel lighter. The tension that had wound itself tightly in your chest began to ease, your breath coming in slower, steadier gasps. You let out a shuddered breath, unable to stop the faint, tired smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. Your head sank deeper into the pillow, the heat of the fever still present but suddenly more bearable.

"Thank you," you whispered, the words barely audible, but you meant them more than anything. "For... not being afraid."

Then, to your utter disbelief, he shifted, moving carefully until he was lying beside you, propped on one arm. His fingers brushed through your damp hair, slow and deliberate. The warmth of him, the steadiness, sent a shiver through you.

“Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll stay.”

Your chest ached. “You don’t have to—”

He flicked your forehead lightly, the gesture so normal, so achingly fond, that your throat tightened.

Xavier smiled—small, barely there, but real.

“I’ll stay,” he said, settling more comfortably beside you. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

You blinked sluggishly up at him, fevered and drained but impossibly, inexplicably safe.

His fingers ghosted over your hand before he spoke again, voice softer now, fond.

“Rest now, seashell.”

The steady thrum of his presence was everything, and you closed your eyes with a sense of peace you hadn’t realized you’d been yearning for. For now, you didn’t have to hide. And that, more than anything, was what gave you the strength to close your eyes and let yourself finally rest.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom @m00nchildwrites

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dozybeez · 11 days ago

Text

Spin For Me (Pt. Three)

She's the quiet girl in class with a secret life after dark. He's the campus heartthrob who's used to getting what he wants—except her. When a class project forces them together, buried truths, blurred lines, and undeniable tension threaten to unravel everything they thought they knew.

→ part one → part two

→ part four coming soon

pairing: college au! kim mingyu x exotic dancer f!reader

word count: 4.7k

content warnings: slowish burn, smut, lap dances, adult club setting, derogatory language toward sex workers, internalized shame, emotional distress, subtle? size and innocence kink. MDNI

authors note: in no way do I think I'm a good writer. I wrote this a while ago just for self indulgence and decided to post it for fun, so please understand.

songs for this chapter:

- Pyramids by Frank Ocean

- Cold Sweat by Tinashe

- Gilded Lily by Cults

The heavy bass still echoed in your chest as you stepped off the stage, breath shallow and skin damp beneath the soft sheen of sweat. Your thighs ached from holding each spin, and your calves trembled faintly. The crowd’s cheers had already started to blur into a wall of white noise, fading behind you and replaced by the quiet thrum of your pulse.

You were halfway to the dressing room when your manager caught up to you.

He called out your name with that smug look on his face—like whatever this was, the decision had already been made for you.

“Private room three. Some guy just offered triple the other girls’ rates for ten minutes with you.”

You paused, furrowing your brows. “I don’t do private—”

“I know,” he cut in, expression unbothered. “But this isn’t a request. You want to keep your spot? You do this one.”

The ache bloomed in your chest. That old, familiar mix of shame and survival clawing its way up your ribs like a splintered memory. You stood there for a long second, jaw clenched tight.

You could walk. You could quit. It’s not like you didn’t think about it every night when you got home, eyes gritty and bones sore.

But three times the rate.

Two months of rent. Groceries.

The pressure cracked something in your chest, and your voice came out colder than you meant it.

“Fine. One time.”

It was probably just some old creep anyway. Someone hoping to find the youngest girl in the club. As long as it wasn’t your professor, you could stomach it.

You adjusted your outfit. Reapplied your gloss. Pulled the familiar black mask over the upper half of your face—it made you feel a little less naked, a little more untouchable despite the circumstances.

⸻

The hallway to Room Three felt long. The lights above flickered like they were judging you.

You pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Darkness greeted you. The red lights were dimmed to a low hue.

You looked up—and froze.

Legs spread slightly, sleeves of his button-down pushed to his elbows, head tilted like he was just relaxing on some frat couch after class.

But even in the dim light, you could tell. You could feel it in your bones.

Mingyu.

Your mouth went dry.

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Your heart slammed so hard against your chest you were sure it echoed.

No. No. This can’t be real.

What the hell was he doing here?

Had he—had he really requested you? Spent that much money on you?

But he looked so calm. So relaxed. Like he didn’t recognize you at all.

Maybe he didn’t. You were in full gear—thigh-highs, gloves, the mask, even a different lipstick than usual. No one ever recognized you. That was the entire point of Fawn.

Still, your body wasn’t listening to logic. Your pulse spiked. Your palms turned slick with sweat.

Even in the dim amber lighting, you could make out his sharp jawline. The slow, easy curve of his smile.

Every part of you screamed: Leave.

But you didn’t.

You walked forward, slow and deliberate, keeping your eyes slightly averted, your face mostly hidden behind your signature mask.

His eyes followed you. Careful. Curious.

The music started—slow, deep bass. Cold Sweat by Tinashe. Something far more sensual than your usual main stage routine consisting of divorced dad rock.

You took a breath.

Your hips began to sway. Your hands slid down your own body, grazing your waist as you stepped closer. Your thighs brushed his knees when you turned, pressing your back flush to his chest—close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

You bent at the waist, slowly, your hands on his thighs as you rolled your ass up against his lap. You felt him tense beneath you.

You kept going, rolling your hips in smooth circles as you sat more firmly against his groin.

His breath hitched.

A rush of adrenaline flooded your limbs.

You arched your back a little deeper, let your ass drag forward, then back again—this time slower, more deliberately.

Still, you didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

“You’re nervous,” he murmured behind you, his voice low and laced with something darker. “It’s cute.”

You swallowed hard and rose from his lap, turning to face him. Your knees settled on either side of his thighs as you straddled him now, chest inches from his, arms braced on his shoulders.

He didn’t touch you. His hands remained clenched on the chair.

You began to roll your hips again—slow, sensual. Grinding softly against him through the layers of his clothes, your body trembling despite the heat in the room. He was watching you too closely. It made it impossible to think.

You felt ridiculous.

Embarrassed.

And yet… something warm lingered in your chest that had nothing to do with nerves. There was a part of you that didn’t want to get up. Not because it was Mingyu, the campus heartthrob. But because it was Mingyu. And even if he didn’t know it was you, you liked being close to him. You liked the quiet way he watched you without touching. You liked that he didn’t laugh when you stuttered and got shy at the library. That he seemed… patient. Here and then.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he whispered, voice truthful. “Except one.”

Your eyes snapped to his.

Your rhythm faltered—just for a beat—but you corrected it quickly, dragging your body back down in another smooth grind. You couldn’t stop. Couldn’t react.

Your fingers moved up to his lips, pressing gently to silence him. Your hands were trembling.

He didn’t flinch. Just kissed your fingertips softly and let you keep them there.

“I won’t talk,” he murmured after you removed your fingers. “If that’s what you want.”

Your face burned. Your thighs were trembling. But you kept moving—hips rocking slowly, drawing tight, sensual circles against the obvious bulge between his legs.

His lips parted. A faint groan escaped him.

“You remind me of someone,” he added a moment later, voice barely audible over the music.

You stopped breathing.

You dropped your gaze to his chest and ground against him one final time, slower now, lingering, trying to finish the set with control.

The timer beeped softly. Ten minutes.

You were about to get off his lap when he whispered your name, your real name. Not Fawn. You.

Your whole body froze.

Your breath caught painfully in your throat. Your stomach dropped through the floor.

He knew.

You jerked away from him like you’d been burned. Stumbled off his lap. Nearly tripped over your heel.

He didn’t move.

Just sat there.

Watching you.

You didn’t wait. Didn’t speak. You pushed the door open and ran—down the hall, past the dressing rooms, through the back exit.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you leaned against the alley wall, hand over your chest, lungs struggling to catch up with your heart.

He knew.

⸻

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he booked the dance.

Maybe just to confirm it. Maybe just to see you move up close, without the safety of distance and dim lights. Maybe to stop pretending he hadn’t recognized the way you touched the pole—awkward at first, then ethereal. He’d memorized your body long before tonight.

But the moment you walked in, it hit him like a sucker punch to the chest.

It was you.

Your figure. Your soft, nervous energy. Your walk. Your hips.

You.

Fawn.

Same damn person.

He kept his expression unreadable, though inside he was burning—heart pounding, breath stuck somewhere between his lungs and throat. You didn’t know he knew.

Not yet.

But when you climbed onto his lap? When you bent over and rolled your hips against him like that, your soft curves brushing over his groin with each slow, sensual drag?

He nearly lost it.

You were nervous—he could feel it in the way your thighs trembled against his, in the tiny stutter of your rhythm, the way you refused to speak.

And it only made you more real.

He’d thought Fawn was just some unattainable fantasy. A beautiful, untouchable performer with a mask and a stage between them. And you—you were the girl who made his heart race, with sarcasm in your smile and eyes you wouldn’t let him hold too long. A contradiction. A puzzle.

But here you were.

On him.

Gripping his shoulders with soft, shy fingers and grinding yourself against him in slow, burning circles.

And fuck—you were gorgeous. And so, so cute. Especially when you tried to act like you weren’t shaking. Like your heart wasn’t racing.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to groan. He wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you close and tell you you didn’t have to be scared.

But mostly?

He wanted to tell you you had him.

He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe back when you first told him off in class, or when you laughed behind your laptop screen, cheeks pink, thinking he hadn’t noticed—but now it was like every version of you had collided in front of him. And he couldn’t unsee it.

Fawn.

And you.

And suddenly, every time you’d tucked your face into your hood, every time you’d ignored his flirting, every time you’d squirmed when he leaned too close during study sessions—it all made sense.

He bit back a groan when you rubbed down against him again, the friction dizzying. You were trying so hard to stay composed, even as your body betrayed you.

When he whispered your name, it was a whisper of reverence.

A test.

And a confession.

You froze.

And then you bolted.

He didn’t expect you to run like that. Didn’t expect his chest to hurt the way it did watching you stumble off his lap, eyes wide with terror, mask still on, but everything else exposed—emotionally, physically, completely.

Fuck.

He didn’t move at first.

He sat there, jaw clenched, fists pressed into his knees, trying to absorb the moment.

Then he was up.

Out of the room.

Down the hallway.

Past the blinking exit signs and down the side corridor he’d seen dancers use earlier. He didn’t know where you’d gone—just knew he had to find you.

He wasn’t chasing Fawn.

He was chasing you.

And now that he knew they were one and the same, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stop.

⸻

The cold hit you the second you burst out the side door.

Your heels clacked against wet pavement as your breath clawed at your lungs, coming in sharp, painful bursts. Your mask—your armor—was clenched in your trembling hand now, crushed in your palm like it was the reason any of this happened.

You hated this.

You hated the way your heart was racing. Hated the fact that your eyes were burning. Hated that your lips still tingled from being that close to him. From touching him outside of just brushes in the library. From hearing him whisper your name like it meant something.

You didn’t know what to feel.

And then you heard him.

His expensive shoes hit the pavement behind you, steady, fast, familiar.

You didn’t have to turn to know. His presence was unmistakable.

A breathless gasp of your name escaped from his lips— like he was in pain for even saying it aloud.

You whirled around. “Don’t.”

His eyes went wide. His hands froze halfway in the air, jacket in one of them, like he didn’t know whether to touch you or not. He looked… helpless. Still in that sleek black button-down, eyes soft like he didn’t know how to fix this.

And you hated him for it.

Because you wanted to crumble.

“Don’t come near me,” you whispered, your voice cracked and wild. “I mean it.”

But he took a step anyway, slowly, silently, and then put his jacket on your shoulders. “It is freezing, you’re gonna get hypothermia.”

You looked down. Your arms were trembling. Your stage outfit was barely anything. Your skin was goosebumped, your breath fogging in the night air.

You hated that you were cold. That his jacket—that smelled like the cologne you would crave to smell once more after he left your study sessions—helped.

So when he gently placed it over your shoulders, you let it sit there for a second before shoving it off. “Don’t pretend to care now.”

He flinched.

“I don’t need you to play the good guy,” you continued, voice rising. “I don’t need you to make me feel better after—after whatever the hell that was in there.”

He tried to speak. “Wait—”

“No, seriously. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” you laughed bitterly.

“Little shy girl from class turns out to be some pathetic stripper who rubs herself on strangers for rent money. Must be your dream, huh? Something about the thrill of it?”

His face fell, completely, and you hated that too.

“You think I’m easy now, don’t you? That I’d do anything for the right price?” you spat. “Is that why you offered that much money? ‘Cause you knew I was too poor to say no? Or because it turns you on to play pretend with some dumb girl who sits next to you at the library and then dances for you at night?”

“no—” His voice broke around your name.

But you didn’t let him speak.

“You probably think I’ve slept with half this town, don’t you?” Your mascara was streaking now, dark lines down your cheeks. You were spiraling. “You probably think I’d fuck you if you just waved enough cash in front of me. You have half the campus wanting to sleep with you. But that’s not enough for you. It’s the degradation of paying for it, right? God, I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not—” He stepped forward, but you shoved him.

Hard but he barely even moved. Stepping back on his own accord to give you space.

“I said don’t touch me.”

You stood there, breath shaking, heart splitting open. You couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t handle the way he was looking at you like you were made of glass and heartbreak.

“I hate that you saw me like that,” you whispered, the tears leaving streaks in your makeup.

And then you turned, heels scraping against the concrete as you pushed the door back open and vanished inside.

Mingyu didn’t follow.

He stood in the alley, alone, staring at the spot where you’d been—jacket on the ground, mascara-streaked tears still carved into his memory.

And he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t fix it.

Not yet.

⸻

Two weeks.

Fourteen days of unanswered texts, unread emails, and skipped classes.

You had vanished like smoke.

At first, he thought you were just avoiding him. Understandable. After what happened in the alley behind the club—the breakdown, the look on your face when he said your name—he figured you needed space.

But then you missed your scheduled study session. Then another. And another.

No café sightings. No familiar shape curled into your favorite corner of the library. No nervous voice during lectures. You’d gone ghost completely, and it was killing him.

He sent you everything—paragraph-long messages, quick check-ins, even just: “Are you okay?”

Nothing.

The silence was starting to scream.

By the time the morning of your presentation rolled around, he’d convinced himself you wouldn’t show. He’d rehearsed the whole project alone,and planned to tell the professor you were sick and pray he wouldn’t tank your grade. You did most of the project anyways, while he would sit there in the library making googly eyes at you.

He was never mad. Just worried.

And heartbroken.

So when you walked into the classroom twenty seconds before you were set to begin, Mingyu nearly dropped his notes.

Your usually clean and soft hair was tied in a loose, uneven braid, strands sticking out. Your hoodie swallowed your frame. Your under eyes were darker than he remembered, and your jeans were baggy, wrinkled, like you hadn’t done laundry in weeks.

You looked like a ghost of yourself.

But you were there.

He didn’t get to say anything. The professor called your names, and you quietly stepped to the front beside him without a word.

The presentation went… surprisingly well.

Your voice was quieter than usual. You stumbled over one or two slides, but nothing major. Mingyu picked up where you wavered, and you fell into that unspoken academic rhythm you’d formed weeks ago—two very different people functioning as one oddly cohesive unit.

He kept glancing at you from the side. You didn’t meet his eyes once.

As soon as you finished and the applause from the class died down, you muttered a thanks to the professor, and beelined out the door.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Then he ran.

The sound of your name was yelled from his eager lips.

You didn’t slow down.

But his legs were longer, and you were moving slower than usual—exhausted, probably, or maybe just trying not to cry again.

He reached you at the edge of the courtyard, just past the main entrance, and gently grabbed your wrist.

“Wait,” he said softly. “Please.”

You froze. Didn’t look at him. But you didn’t pull away.

His chest tightened.

He stepped in front of you, moving you just behind one of the large pillars near the side of the building—more private, out of the flood of students filing out after class. His hand never left your wrist, but his grip was feather-light.

“Just… let me talk,” he pleaded, voice low. “Please let me fix this.”

You scoffed bitterly, and finally, finally looked up at him.

“Oh my god,” you snapped, voice hoarse. “You really can’t take it, can you?”

Mingyu blinked. “What?”

“You,” you said, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe him. “Mr. Perfect. Campus golden boy. Everyone likes you—how could they not? Tall, hot, charming. You’ve got girls lined up around the block for you, and yet—”

You laughed, but it cracked. “What, because you didn’t get the stripper? Is that what finally broke your ego?”

“You couldn’t fuck me, so now your world’s imploding?” you pushed, venom in your voice but pain behind your eyes. “I must really be something, huh? That even you—the notorious playboy Kim Mingyu—lost your mind over a hooker who told you to fuck off.”

His heart clenched.

“That’s why you asked me out on that date, right? Made me think you actually liked me for me. But this whole time you were chasing after the thrill of sleeping with Fawn. Paying for Fawn. What an act.”

“You think I care because I didn’t get to sleep with you?” he whispered.

“You don’t care. You just hate the idea that someone out there thinks less of you. That you couldn’t get the one girl you assumed would be easy just because she takes her clothes off for money! What, your dick doesn’t get hard anymore for a girl who doesn’t need money to sleep with you?”

“Stop,” he said, gently but firmly.

“Go post a shirtless mirror selfie and cry about it—”

He whispered your name softly, not a warning but rather a plea for you to just breathe.

“I’m sure your fans will stroke your ego back to life—”

He moved quickly—his large hand reaching up, cupping over your mouth gently, the entire bottom half of your face fitting beneath his palm. Not forceful. Not angry. Just… quieting you.

Your eyes went wide.

“Please,” he said, voice barely audible. “Just… breathe.”

You were trembling beneath his touch, every bone in your body radiating with exhaustion and rage and something even worse—hurt.

His hand stayed where it was until your breathing began to slow. Just slightly.

Then he dropped it.

You looked away again, eyes glassy.

“I’m not in love with Fawn,” he said softly.

You flinched.

“I’m not. I never was. I only started going to see her to help distract myself for what I actually felt—what you made me feel,” he said. “I was… intrigued by Fawn. She reminded me of someone. And then… when I realized it was you—”

“Stop,” you croaked.

“I can’t. Not now.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, big doe eyes looking up at him with too many emotions swirling in them.

Mingyu shoved his hands through his hair, exhaling.

“I like you. I liked you way before I even knew it was you at the club. Your sarcasm. Your awkward little shrugs. The way you never look me in the eyes for more than three seconds without panicking.”

He smiled, soft and sad. He looked at you hopefully, like maybe, this would finally fix things.

A tear slipped down your cheek.

And then you remembered.

You remembered that night, months ago—the reason you brushed him off since the beginning of your study sessions, the reason you never let him get too close. The same reason your walls were so carefully built… until he started dismantling them, piece by piece.

Your eyebrows pulled together—not in anger anymore, but in something far heavier. Pain. Betrayal. Mistrust. He had just laid his feelings bare, but could you believe them? Could you risk it?

No. You couldn’t afford to.

Wordlessly, you wiped your cheek with the sleeve of your hoodie, the fabric trailing past your fingers like a shield you no longer had the strength to hold up. Then you gave him one last look—full of sorrow, maybe even regret—before turning away.

Walking away from him.

From his feelings.And from your feelings.

⸻

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velvetseahorse · 6 months ago

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Astrology observations and notes

- Mula natives can be intense in intimate relationships. Claire Nakti mentions them being energy vampires, a trait that I believe all Ketu nakshatras share. However, Mula individuals take this to an extreme—they deeply desire to consume their romantic partners or loved ones, often expressing love and affection in ways that can be violent or disturbing. For example, Mula ☽ native Amy Winehouse once carved “I love Blake” (referring to her then-boyfriend Blake Fielder-Civil) onto her stomach using a shard of glass during a photoshoot. Mula ☉ native Keith Richards snorted his own father’s ashes. He explained, “The truth of the matter is that after having Dad’s ashes in a black box for six years—because I really couldn’t bring myself to scatter him to the winds(…)when I took the lid off the box, a fine spray of his ashes blew out onto the table. I couldn’t just brush him off, so I wiped my finger over it and snorted the residue.”

- All three Pisces nakshatras (Purva Bhadrapada, Uttara Bhadrapada, and Revati) are late bloomers. This may be because Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac and is connected to the 12th house, which rules moksha and the dissolution of individual existence into the eternal flow of life. The ultimate purpose of the 12th house is spiritual liberation and freedom from samsara. Sidereal Pisces natives are often tested and placed in situations where they must lose aspects of themselves to gain wisdom and grow, which can delay the usual stages of development in their lives. Pisces is naturally detached from material matters and easily in tune with its divine essence. Similar to Ketu, Pisces is often associated with spirituality and higher wisdom. In fact, many Vedic texts suggest that Ketu co-rules Pisces, but I’ll explore that topic in another blog post. The 12th house represents confinement, the subconscious, loss, endings, isolation, delusion, unseen realms, and private emotions. It is a deeply spiritual and sensitive house where suffering is often hidden, but it also holds profound wisdom when approached with the right mindset. Pisces natives are highly sensitive, and when faced with harsh realities, they often cope by withdrawing from the world. They prefer to live in a reality of their own making—a gift they naturally possess. However, they cannot escape responsibility entirely, as life’s traumas frequently force them to reflect and grow. Pisces natives are natural observers rather than active participants, and you won’t often find them following societal trends. They tend to stay alone, forging their own unique path. As escapists at heart, Pisces struggles to make sense of things logically, often relying on emotions and intuition instead. This is why Mercury debilitates in Pisces. For Pisces, life feels like a ripple in water—vast, reflective, and abyssal like the ocean. Because of their tendency toward isolation, the mundanity of life can be deeply depressing for them. They may overthink, fall into maladaptive daydreaming, or become so lost in their imagination that they miss out on their own present lives and development. Once Pisces natives stop escaping and begin addressing their emotions in a healthy way—through spiritual practices or creative expression—they can unlock their full potential. Pisces is highly creative, with Venus exalting in this sign, emphasizing their natural gifts in art, music, and storytelling. Most Pisces natives feel a calling for something greater than an average life and often possess the talent to fulfill that calling. However, their main challenge lies in taking consistent steps toward their goals and overcoming their finicky, scattered tendencies.

- Ashwini natives are prone to addiction, self-medicating habits, and mental health challenges. Ashwini is a Ketu-ruled nakshatra, and Ketu, being the opposite of Rahu (the head), represents the headless body—detached from material desires and driven by the pursuit of spiritual liberation. This detachment creates disillusionment with the material world, leaving Ketu natives in their most raw, primal state, seeking the deeper truths and secrets of existence. Ketu’s influence is often compared to Mars because both planets help break through limitations, but their motivations differ. Mars is driven by ambition and devotion, while Ketu is fueled by detachment from material pursuits. This immense detachment makes Ashwini natives especially susceptible to addiction, often as a way to numb themselves or escape from overactive mental activity. Aries, the sign ruled by Ashwini, governs the head, and Ashwini as the first nakshatra carries the primal spark of energy and mental impulses. This nakshatra relates to mental activity, making its natives highly energetic but also restless and prone to overthinking. Their constant mental stimulation can lead to exhaustion, agitation, and self-destructive behaviors if not managed well. Ashwini natives have a natural intelligence and a desire to attain things quickly. However, this need for constant intellectual or physical stimulation can result in impulsive and reckless behavior when they are not moving or engaged in something meaningful. Ashwini is a restless nakshatra, and when placed in social environments requiring conformity, natives may struggle to fit in, often resorting to sarcasm and bluntness. Their detachment from societal norms, combined with their cosmic youthfulness and childlike nature (symbolized by their deities, the young twin horses), can make them appear rude or immature. Although Ashwini natives may try to behave in a “normal” or formal manner, this often leads to frustration due to their need for freedom and stimulation. Their childlike energy and cosmic vitality are best channeled into pursuits that allow them to move, grow, and explore.

- Venus in the 12th house is a beautiful but challenging placement. Natives with this position view romance, spirituality, or even life through rose-colored glasses. While this gives them a dreamy and idealistic perspective, it can also lead to disconnection from reality, resulting in disappointment and, often, depression. Venus is desires, romance, pleasure, and art. When placed in the deeply private and spiritual 12th house, these aspects become tied to one’s emotional and spiritual well-being. People with Venus in the 12th tend to keep their relationships very private, often out of fear of outside interference. The 12th house also rules hidden enemies, which can make these natives cautious about exposing their love life. They are unconditional lovers, often idealizing their partners to the extent that they may overlook toxic or unbalanced dynamics. It’s common for Venus in the 12th natives to love more intensely than their partners, which can lead to one-sided or non-secure relationships, such as secret affairs. These natives are often seduced by the idea of love in their minds, finding it difficult to accept the reality of their situation. This disconnection can lead to insecurity, particularly regarding their self-image. Physically, those with Venus in the 12th house are quite beautiful, but they may struggle to see or embrace their own beauty, feeling unworthy of love. Despite these challenges, Venus in the 12th house produces some of the most empathetic, self-sacrificial, and artistically gifted individuals. Venus is exalted in Pisces, the ruler of the 12th house, which enhances their creative potential. The 12th house governs hidden things, so natives may have hidden artistic talents that they should explore. They can create art that has a profound emotional and spiritual impact, capable of healing others and excel in surrealist forms of expression, romantic poetry, music, and visual mediums that convey unexplainable yet resonating emotions.

- Ashlesha and Uttara Bhadrapada bring to mind the effects of anesthesia. Ashlesha represents the beginning stages of anesthesia, with its Shakti—the power to inflict poison—a clinging and restrictive energy that feels paralyzing. This is akin to how anesthesia is injected into the nervous system, suppressing consciousness and inducing a detached, deep sleep-like state. Uttara Bhadrapada represents the culmination of this process, embodying the state of deep sleep. Its deity, Ahirbudhnya—the serpent of the depths—reflects the energy of stillness and dissociation of what’s above (reality/conciousness) , as well as the 12th house’s connection to sleep and the unconscious. Uttara Bhadrapada signifies the transcendental detachment from the physical body, much like the dissociative, dream-like state brought on by anesthesia. Ahirbudhnya’s symbolism as the serpent of the deep ocean mirrors the sensation of being submerged or taken into a controlled, deep state under anesthesia. Ashlesha’s clinging, paralyzing venom parallels Uttara Bhadrapada’s surrender and stillness, with both evoking states where the body is subdued or transcended. Ashlesha operates through the subconscious and instinctual nervous responses, while Uttara Bhadrapada focuses on spiritual transcendence. Anesthesia acts as a bridge between these realms, allowing the body to rest while bypassing conscious awareness.

- Pushya and Krittika natives can have features characterized by full lips, almond-shaped or wide-set eyes, which can also be rounded and downturned , or upturned and almond shaped typically deep-set. They tend to have very soft cheeks and overall gentle facial features, even among Krittika natives. Those born under the sheep yoni have soft, curly, or full hair. These natives dislike being alone and will often join others they can’t emotionally or socially relate to simply to avoid solitude. Krittika is in the ♉︎ and ♈︎ rashi, while Pushya is in ♋︎. Interestingly, Taurus exalts the Moon, and Krittika is the nakshatra where the Moon is exalted. Despite their planetary differences, both share similarities, including being associated with the goat/sheep yoni consort. Both Krittika and Pushya are nurturing by nature; however, Pushya leans toward giving, while Krittika tends to receive. There is a pure aura about them, as they are spiritually pure at their core and often sacrificial. For example, Joan of Arc, a Pushya ↑, led French armies based on divine visions she claimed to have, ultimately leading to her martyrdom by being burned at the stake—an example of these nakshatras embodying the archetype of sacrificial lambs. Krittika’s symbol is a blade, and the name itself means “one who cuts.” Its deity, Agni, the fire god, represents purification through fire, especially of the soul. Krittika women, in particular, can face disdain from both men and women due to their sovereign and independent nature. They are often misunderstood and may fall victim to others attempting to humble or overpower them.

Ebonee Davis - Pushya ↑ Halle Berry - Pushya ☽ Krittika ♈︎ ↑

Spike Fearn - Krittika ♈︎ ☽ Mick Jagger - Pushya ☉ krittika ♉︎ ☽

-Jyeshtha natives are known for being great writers, excelling in songwriting, literature, poetry, and rap. There are many notable poets, rappers, and songwriters with Jyeshtha placements, including Ottessa Moshfegh, Joan Didion, Bob Dylan, Emily Dickinson, Jim Morrison, Clarice Lispector, and Sonny Hall. Rappers like Nicki Minaj and JT, as well as singer-songwriters such as Sinead O’Connor and Tom Waits, also carry strong Jyeshtha energy. Jyeshtha is ruled by Mercury, which governs communication and expression through use of speech and writing. It also rules numbers and words and how we use them to problem-solve and convey ideas. Known as the “elder,” Jyeshtha’s deity is Indra, and Jyeshtha natives tend to excel because of their high standards, ambition and intuitive expertise in their craft. Relying in the ♏︎ rasi—a mysterious, transformative, intense, and passionate sign co-ruled by Mars and Ketu—Jyeshtha natives delve into themes of impersonal tragedy, exploring the darker aspects of the human psyche. Their writing is distinguished by their technique, style, and wordplay. Mars appears prominently in charts of many rappers through both signs (Aries and Scorpio) and nakshatras (Mrigashira, Chitra, and Dhanishta).

- Chitra nakshatra is quite similar to the Venus nakshatras in terms of behavior in my opinion. Chitra is all about refinement, creativity, beauty, and enjoying things that appeal to the senses. Although ruled by Mars, its connection to Venus (♎︎) and Mercury (♍︎) gives it a visually oriented and perfectionist nature, much like the Venus nakshatras, which are immensely creative. Both Chitra and Venus nakshatras share a tendency to push boundaries, sometimes indulging in taboo subjects. Venus nakshatras are known for their exclusivity, often socializing and collaborating only with other Venus nakshatra natives. Similarly, Chitra exhibits a form of discrimination by networking and associating only with those they deem worthy—often based on aesthetics or social status. Chitra natives are also highly judgmental, frequently offering unsolicited critiques because they cannot tolerate anything they perceive as imperfect. This mirrors the Venusian tendency to prioritize beauty and refinement above all else Especially because Venus (Shukra), the guru of demons and Chitra is demonic Rakshasa gana. there are, of course, key differences between Chitra and the Venus nakshatras.

- Saturn in the 4th house: The 4th house is one of the most private houses in astrology, ruled by Cancer, which is governed by the Moon (representing emotions). This house symbolizes our early home environment, upbringing, and especially our relationship with our mother. The mother is our first home (the womb) and nurtures us emotionally. How our parents teach us to regulate emotions is crucial for our emotional well-being. However, with Saturn in the 4th house—a restrictive and malefic planet—its energy clashes with Cancer’s nurturing qualities, as Saturn is in its detriment in this sign. Saturn represents coldness, self-limitation, underdogs/outcasts, effort, and karma. Natives with Saturn in the 4th house experience a difficult childhood, being forced to mature quickly and take on heavy responsibilities at a young age. They may feel disconnected from peers, unable to engage in carefree, childish behavior due to these responsibilities. This placement often indicates a mother who is emotionally distant or invalidating. These natives might have been told to “be strong” instead of expressing their emotions. In some cases, they may have served as their mother’s emotional crutch, catering to her emotional needs instead of receiving the nurturing they needed. Traumatic family events may linger, leaving them feeling tied to their family out of a sense of duty. For Saturn in the 4th house natives to thrive, they need to move away from their homeland or create physical distance from their family. Despite the hardships, individuals with this placement tend to develop deep empathy, a strong sense of responsibility, and profound wisdom. However, they are prone to anxiety and mood disorders, making it crucial for them to seek therapy, learn emotional regulation, and to give themselves a break and allow themselves love by building a supportive community that provides comfort and belonging.

- Jupiter in the 5th House: The 5th house is an important and auspicious house in astrology, representing past karmas and influencing one’s life journey. Creation is a central theme of the 5th house, whether through children, art, intellect, or ideas. With Jupiter placed here, this becomes a highly favorable position. Jupiter, known as Guru, is an expansive planet that represents luck, joy, knowledge and abundance. It thrives on self-improvement through activities like reading, studying, meditation, and creative pursuits such as music or painting. Natives with Jupiter in the 5th house feel an innate optimism about education, creativity, and spirituality. They approach learning and creating with a sense of childlike curiosity and openness, allowing them to absorb knowledge and express their creativity with purity and innocence. This mindset helps them flourish in these areas. Because the 5th house also rules children, individuals with this placement have a growth-oriented relationships with children. They may naturally take on roles as teachers, mentors, or guides, and children are likely to be drawn to them easily. Their own children will be blessed as well. However, this positive energy is best expressed when the 5th house is free from malefic influences or harmful conjunctions to Jupiter. Without such hindrances, Jupiter’s energy shines brightly, encouraging intellectual and spiritual growth. It’s important for those with Jupiter in the 5th to remain mindful of their potential naivety. While optimism and generosity are key strengths, they must remember that actions still carry consequences. Overindulgence or excessive reliance on luck can negatively affect their karmic balance. To truly thrive, these natives should strive to give as much as they receive, ensuring that their abundance benefits not just themselves but others as well.

*All these notes are just based off my own personal observations and readings. It may not resonate everyone with these placements

#vedic astrology #astrology observations #sidereal astrology

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jul-27 · 1 year ago

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They weren’t lying when they said healing isn’t linear. You can be going about your day and then suddenly…the reminder of that pain hits you all over again. It’s like phantom pain, almost. While you’ve moved on with your life, that wound will always be there. It’s healed enough to where it becomes a scar but yet, it’s still there. It lingers and resurfaces when you least expect it. A tidal wave. You feel it until it goes away. It can take seconds, minutes even, but it goes right back to where it belongs. Deep in the ocean, hidden in the depths of the sea. Surprise! The tidal wave comes right back around, crashing onto the shore yet again. That’s the unspoken truth about healing.

#mine

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theskywithin · 2 months ago

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Birth Chart Breakdown: Planets in The Twelfth House

☉ Sun in the Twelfth House There’s a part of you that’s always been just out of reach, not because it’s hidden, but because it’s sacred. You don’t crave attention. You crave understanding. You move through the world quietly, but there’s a glow inside you that never goes out. You may not always know who you are out loud, but in stillness, in solitude, you remember. Your identity isn’t a performance. It’s a presence. And it lives even in the dark.

☽ Moon in the Twelfth House You feel more than you let on. Sometimes you don’t even realize what you’re carrying until it shows up in dreams, or floods your chest out of nowhere. You tuck your pain into the softest parts of you, and protect it like it’s sacred. You’ve learned to grieve quietly, but your grief deserves a voice, too. The feelings you hide are not weakness. They’re memory. They’re love. They’re you.

☿ Mercury in the Twelfth House You don’t always speak what you know. Thoughts move through you like fog, deep, layered, hard to catch. You’ve been misunderstood before, so now you filter. You hesitate. But your silence is not emptiness. It’s depth. You carry truths in your subconscious that haven’t found words yet. And when they do, they will carry weight. You don’t need to be loud to be wise.

♀ Venus in the Twelfth House You love like a secret prayer. You fall for souls, not stories. You carry a tenderness that most people never see, and a devotion that doesn’t ask to be returned to feel real. You give love even when you know it won’t be held, because that’s who you are. You crave beauty that doesn’t fade, and affection that doesn’t ask you to be anything but soft. Yours is the kind of love that leaves traces in dreams.

♂ Mars in the Twelfth House Your anger doesn’t explode, it echoes. You don’t always act on what hurts. You internalize. Retreat. Try to fix it within before you confront it without. But this doesn’t mean you’re passive. You fight differently, inside your own mind, inside your own healing. The rage you suppress is the energy of survival. Let it move. Let it speak. You’re not dangerous, you’re learning how to hold fire in your palms.

♃ Jupiter in the Twelfth House You carry a quiet kind of trust, not loud, not naive, but deep. You believe that even in chaos, meaning will find you. You don’t shout your wisdom from rooftops. You carry it like a secret blessing. Some days, you give more than you have. Some days, you disappear just to keep your spirit intact. But always, beneath it all, there’s a current of belief: that something greater is holding you, even when you forget how to hold yourself.

♄ Saturn in the Twelfth House You carry weights that have no names. You feel responsible for things you can’t explain. You may not cry where people can see you, but you’ve built an ocean inside. You long for rest, but often feel you haven’t earned it. And yet… even in your quiet, even when no one knows what you’re carrying, you show up. Not perfectly, but fully. And that’s more than enough.

♅ Uranus in the Twelfth House Your wildness lives in secret. You want to break free, but from what, you can’t always say. You dream of disappearing and reinventing yourself in the same breath. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to belong, only be. And though the world doesn’t always understand your rhythm, you’re not lost. You’re just listening to a future that hasn’t arrived yet. A future that begins in your dreams.

♆ Neptune in the Twelfth House You live at the edge of this world and the next. You cry for things you can’t name, love people you’ve never met, and believe in miracles with no need for proof. Sometimes you get lost in longing. Sometimes you confuse illusion with soul. But you were never meant to live only in reality. You’re here to remind us that magic still hums beneath the surface. And that dreams, when nurtured, return us to ourselves.

♇ Pluto in the Twelfth House You’ve buried entire lifetimes inside your silence. Power. Pain. Transformation. You keep your evolution underground, like roots growing beneath the surface. The world sees your calm, but inside, you’ve died and resurrected a thousand times. Don’t underestimate the force of what you carry. You are a storm behind still eyes. You don’t need to show it to prove it’s real.

🪐 Every placement has a purpose. 📖 My book helps you uncover it, with clarity and depth.

#astrology #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #natal chart #birth chart #natal astrology #natal aspects #astrology tumblr #twelfth house #planets #astro placements #astro tumblr #astrology notes

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karolinethemoonflowerwitch · 6 months ago

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Astrology Observations #2

Capricorn and Aquarius Moon

Natives with Capricorn and Aquarius Moon ruled by Saturn and Uranus, I notice these people with these placements may appear cold by nature, however deep down they’re good people at heart as long you aren’t being an ass to them. These types of people are dependable, mature, and loyal to their loved ones and friends and will do anything for you.

Also to all the people out there with these placements y’all are cool and good people. Don’t lose your sanity.

Uranus in Aquarius and Pluto in Aquarius

Natives with Uranus and Pluto in Aquarius are super innovative, geniuses, humanitarian, and futuristic however I do believe there’s more to these types of people with Uranus and Pluto in Aquarius. If you have one of these you’re probably Gen Z or Gen alpha type of person reading this. These people are amazing and has original and great ideas, however they only come when the time is right.

During this time of the year and next few years, the Pluto transit in Aquarius will stay from 2024 until 2044. During these times you may want to be cautious about sharing too much of your life on social media, and speaking of technology don’t make social media especially media in general be part of your life unless it’s part of your job or career. I recommend taking breaks from technology because if I were to be honest social media and media in general is not good for your health. Yeah, I am self aware however I am not responsible for what you do to yourself, take your mental health responsibly it’s for your well being.

Libra placements including sun, moon, rising and mercury in Libra

Natives with Libra placements no matter the planets they’re in I feel like they get looked down upon or shunned for focusing too much on beauty and aesthetics. Deep down these types of people are lovers at heart and wants a relationship with the person they love more than they like someone. Depending on your other placements that aren’t Libra you might push them away or they reject you which causes you to feel hurt and scared that no one will date you. It’s not true and plus remember self love is more important than finding your future partner. Putting yourself first is more important if you want to manifest your future spouse or just stay single forever without regrets. It’s your decision to make not other people. And as fellow Libra, let’s stop with being indecisive and make up your own mind. Because you’re going to end up regretting making the decision.

Sagittarius people with Capricorn Stellium especially Capricorn moon

Natives with sun in Sagittarius and stellium in Capricorn are their zodiac sign by nature, however they may appear distant, aloof, and closed out my older brother is a Sagittarius with Capricorn stellium and from my experience these are very good people as long you don’t play with their heart and be an ass there shouldn’t be a problems. The thing having moon in Capricorn or stellium in Capricorn is that they’re not afraid to be vulnerable or emotional. The truth is their feelings are deep as the ocean they rather keep it hidden from the people they care about. The signs they get along with is Taurus, Virgo, Scorpio, Cancer and Pisces.

Gemini Placements including sun, moon, ascendant, and mercury

Natives with celestial bodies or their rising in Gemini my experience with them is that they’re actually great people. If you don’t get along with them or you do please remember they’re just humans who are going through a lot of shit. As humans the reason why evil and suffering exists because we humans do it unconsciously without awareness. That’s why self awareness is key to finding yourself in this world.

People with Gemini placements are innocent like, child like not too childish, intelligent extremely smart, and is good at reading people. As long you’re not an ass to them unless they’re an ass to you don’t make the situation any worse, and part ways in a healthy way and not in a toxic way.

Pisces placements including sun, moon, rising in Pisces

Oh my gosh, I love these people so much. I’d love to have Pisces as my life long friends along with Sagittarius, Aries, and Taurus people. You guys are so sweet no matter if female, male or non binary you get misunderstood for being too sensitive. It may be true because if you don’t learn to accept for who you are this is why you’re so sensitive. However, never fret because I f******* love you to the core.

Also people with Pisces placements are so dreamy and ethereal. Like…where did you come from? Aliens from outer space or fantasy people from fairy tales or fantasy world?

And don’t play with Pisces people please they may lose their sanity and become cold if you show no empathy to them or the people they care about. Pisces people are delicate like roses so much they cut deep like shards of glass. Be good to them please they’re human beings.

If you have come this far, thank you for reading and stay updated for more.

#astrology #zodiac #zodiac signs

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