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queers-gambit · 4 months

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The Battle Above the God’s Eye

part one: Sands of Time

prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.

"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."

You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."

"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."

"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."

The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.

You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"

You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.

Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.

Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.

Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.

You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?

Soon, you found scat. For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.

So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.

You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.

Or perhaps even a distant one!

You'd take any sign!

It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.

How did the krill and shrimp season fair? What weddings happened this past spring? How was the irrigation system holding up?

Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.

Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.

And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.

You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.

A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.

Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.

You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.

The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.

Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.

Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.

Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.

"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"

"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"

"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"

"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"

Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."

"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."

"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."

"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."

"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."

You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"

"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."

Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "

"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."

"I see."

"He needs your help."

"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."

"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.

You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.

"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"

You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"

"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"

You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "

"I am telling you - "

"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.

In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.

On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...

Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.

"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.

You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.

You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.

The trip was draining.

It was grueling on you both.

Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.

Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.

With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.

The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.

"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.

"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"

"Harrenhal?"

She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"

"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."

You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"

"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."

"And if he was another Maegor?"

"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."

You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"

"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"

"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."

You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.

It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.

"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.

The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.

It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.

You were so close, yet felt so far.

The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.

The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.

You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.

As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.

Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.

Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.

Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.

You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.

"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"

You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."

Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.

"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."

"How? How is - how can this be?"

"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"

He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.

You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.

"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."

"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."

"Tell me what your flames say."

"Now you trust my flames?"

"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."

You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."

"And now?"

"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."

He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."

"We have."

"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."

Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"

"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."

You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"

The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.

She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.

Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.

You knew what he saw.

When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.

The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.

"Where will we go now?"

"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"

"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."

You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.

"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."

"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.

"How?"

"Nettles."

"What?"

"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."

"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "

"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."

"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."

"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."

"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "

"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."

He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"

"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."

"Why were you there?"

"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."

He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.

"Of what?"

"Your life since the Stepstones?"

"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."

"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"

This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.

When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.

"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."

"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."

"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "

"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."

"But I knew..."

"You knew what?"

"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."

"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "

"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."

"Now it's time to heal," you told him.

"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "

"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."

Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.

The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.

"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.

"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."

He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"

"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."

"Morning, Mistress!"

"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."

"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"

You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"

"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."

Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."

"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"

"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.

"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.

"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."

"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."

"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"

"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.

"Well, how about I introduce my family?"

"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.

"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.

"How?" You asked simply.

"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."

"Whores," the husband smiled.

"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"

"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "

"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"

"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."

"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.

And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#daemon #prince daemon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen x f!reader #daemon targaryen x female!reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen angst #prince daemon targaryen x fem!reader #prince daemon targaryen x f!reader #prince daemon targaryen x female!reader #prince daemon targaryen imagine #prince daemon targaryen fanfiction #prince daemon targaryen angst

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scarletwritesshit · 4 months

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🪶 Sunday x Reader 🪶 Deceptions of Divinity

Once, a man came to you in your dreams.

Or at least, you were somewhat convinced that it was a man.

Penacony had quite the reputation for its strange and whimsical dreams. This dream of yours, however, was not exactly an experience that you would have claimed to have had willingly. It wasn’t a waking dream of mystical immersive amusement parks, or anything of the sort, no. It was a distinct encounter with the most unusual of divinity in the midst of your unconscious rest.

The beginning of this dream of yours was rather foggy. Nothing about it exactly stood out to you, so you’ve neglected to retain any memory of that part. None of the mundane factors themselves were worth mentioning, but what suddenly transpired was what made this dream so notable to you.

It was if it manifested out of nowhere. No buildup, no signs from earlier on in the dream, nothing as far as you could remember.

The sight of this sudden manifestation was at the same time as clear as day and as scrambled as could be. You could recall seeing the vague shape of a man amidst a cluster of massive wings, but this strange figure as whole seemed focused on you, as if it were a manifestation of a singular giant eye from the heavens. Claiming to have been imagining things was an understatement, but this creature, for lack of a better term, was vaguely surrounded by rings of Imprisonment that felt as if they were adorned with a thousand tiny eyes seeing through your very soul.

But was the figure in the center of man or beast?? Or perhaps, some unheard of combination, taking shape of all yet none at the same time. The way this being’s wings flapped around it made it seem as if one individual wing was simply a singular feather that comprised a much larger wing.

Despite all of its strange qualities, the creature radiated a truly angelic presence. If this were the waking world, you would sensibly flee, seeking shelter in an attempt to remain unharmed. However, in a realm where you could not be physically injured, you stood your ground to observe the monstrosity that your mind had created in awe.

By now, you had become fully aware that all around you was simply a dream, yet you could not phase the creature out of existence no matter how hard you tried. You had even attempted to give it a definite shape, which would at least allow you to comprehend it.

If you couldn’t manipulate the creature, you at least had the control to ask it a few questions.

“What are you?” you shouted up at the being.

“What am I?” the creature echoed back. “Why, is it not obvious to the observant eye?”

“I would like to argue that you’re an angel, but I can’t exactly say for sure.”

“Then, you have your answer. I am but an angel manifesting in your dreams. It is as simple as that.”

“Simple? I can’t even comprehend you as it is!”

“Ah, but not everything in a dream is to meant be comprehended. That, my dear, would eradicate the point of their existence.”

This so-called angel did not seem to be willing to divulge its secrets so easily. Why couldn’t you shoo it out of your mind? Why did its voice feel as if it was echoing through your physical body? And why, unlike the dreamscape around you, did you feel as if you could reach out and touch a stray feather flying loose from its wing-like structure?

The encounter felt all too real for the setting of a dream-like world. You knew that turning and running would prove rather futile, but it was your mind after all, and you did have the potential to imagine yourself running as far away from that thing as possible.

No matter where you thought of escaping to, the creature somehow managed to follow. You could imagine yourself traveling at speeds exceeding light years throughout the universe, traversing worlds that could not even be physically comprehended, and yet the being somehow remained directly above you, seemingly in a fixed position.

“Now, why are you attempting to escape?” the creature asked. “I cannot hurt you, even if I tried.”

You ceased your attempts to distance yourself and instead stood up to creature and looked at its incomprehensible center, where you assumed its host resided.

“I can’t free my mind of you, and honestly, it’s freaking me out,” you admitted.

“There is no reason for you to be distressed. Your eyes deceive you, as my appearance alone cannot account for who I truly am.”

“That’s the freaky part. I cannot make sense of you.”

“Surely, I am a bit of an unusual visitor, but this is merely my way of introducing you to the wonders of Penacony and what it has to offer.”

“Your idea of being welcoming is, indeed, a bit unusual.”

“My mistake, perhaps you haven’t exactly had much experience talking to many wonders of the universe yet. Most travelers I have encountered thought of me as nothing more than one of this planet’s unique inhabitants.”

“There’s a difference between strange inhabitant and straight-up eldritch being,” you said, attempting to convey to the “angel” that its incomprehensible form was far from ordinary, even to one familiar with beings as twisted and warped as Aeons.

The flapping of the being’s wings appeared to have slowed down, almost drooping, at your remark.

“Hmm, I shall forgive your comment, for I believe you know not what you speak of,” it said.

Fearing that you may have accidentally upset the divine being, you quickly scrambled in an attempt to rectify your wording, but before you could begin to utter a sentence, the creature’s voice echoed once again.

“Perhaps, you would appreciate a more…approachable form?” it inquired.

“You couldn’t have offered that sooner?” you said, attempting to not blatantly allude to your frustrations.

The wing-like structures began to fold into its strange core, yet you still could not tell if it were one large wing circling its entire body or many. It seemingly morphed in a swirl of soft gray-blue feathers, with some as small as a Xianzhou Luofu tit brushing against your face. They were surprisingly soft, surprisingly gentle, and most unusually, soothing in the most eerie way.

Once the feathers had dissipated, a tall gentleman emerged from the midst, with hair a soft gray-blue like that of those feathers that once engulfed his body. He was dressed in a white coat and light purple pants, with accents of gold, cyan, and lilac adorning his suit. His eyes had an intense golden shine, and he looked at you with such a strange sense of fondness.

The most notable of his features, however, were the golden halo behind his head and the two little wings that remained behind his ears.

That was more of your definition of an angel.

“My sincere apologies,” he said, extending a gracious bow, “I should’ve exerted more caution when presenting myself to graciously welcome you to Penacony.”

You wanted to briefly snap at him as this felt like a blatantly obvious fact to consider. Welcoming someone in their dreams while appearing as a creature describable as only a mix-match of adjectives was far from comforting. Just this once, you forgave him, as a sliver of empathy caused you to consider that, perhaps, angels weren’t exactly accustomed to comfortably greeting a human.

“No harm, no foul,” you said, shaking your head. Showing the angel understanding was perhaps be your best bet as to not entice hostility.

“Now, allow me to provide you with a proper introduction. I am Sunday, a representative of Penacony’s Family,” he said, extending out his hand.

He was a very handsome man, so you decided that perhaps, it wouldn’t hurt to put just a little bit of faith in him. You placed your hand in his, and he held onto it ever so gently. Sunday lifted your hand up and gave it a very gentle kiss on top, a gesture that managed to send a shiver through your body even in the real world.

“I sincerely hope that you enjoy your time here, and experience all of the wonders that Penacony has to offer,” he said, while gently stroking the top of your hand with his thumb.

He looked at you with almost a tinge of desire in his eyes. It was as if Sunday wanted to see you in the waking world, though you had no idea how to seek him out, that is, if hunting down an angel would even be physically possible. It was hard to resist taking a chance, as something about him drew him to you, even after seeing Sunday initially present himself to you as an eldritch angel.

The most sensible explanation of his silence was that he was hiding something that prevented the reunion of you two in the real world, but you decided to not press the question.

“Ah, you seem…surprisingly comfortable now,” Sunday noticed. “Does my difference in appearance truly make such an impact on one?”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting such a creature to take the form of a handsome man in my dreams, if that answers your question,” you said, somewhat lost in observing Sunday’s surprisingly gentle mannerisms.

The wings behind his ears perked up a little at hearing you speak of him with such fondness, despite having only just met, under these circumstances nonetheless. It was as if his eyes were now filled with a sense of hope rather than an unspoken longing, yet he still attempted to retain his formal tone.

“You flatter me, truly,” he said with a gentle laugh.

The little smile that was once full of nobility suddenly went soft, and you felt the tension and stiffness in Sunday’s body ease. It was all supposed to be in your head, yet why did it feel so genuine?

He was a divine being, yet his touch felt as soft and gentle as that of a human who cared deeply. You have only just met in this dream world, and Sunday seems to have taken an immediate liking to you. It almost inclined you to jolt yourself awake and seek him out as soon as possible, but the look of happiness on his face kept you asleep, allowing you to cherish the meeting just a tad bit longer.

Sunday’s soft look of desire and refusal to separate his hand from yours were the last things you clearly remembered before you woke.

That morning, you desperately searched for some sort of sign, anything, that your experience was as real as a dream could possibly be. The physical meeting with a man in the world of dreams seemed impossible, but you knew yourself that what you felt was genuine. In your half-asleep state, it took you a while to realize that you had been gently holding a large, gray-blue feather akin to the ones that you saw in your dream.

It was all that you needed to confirm that Sunday’s existence was not your mind simply playing tricks on you.

Seeking an audience with the Family would prove to be impossible, given both their status and popularity. You hoped that by some sheer luck, the two of you would cross paths, but it seemed highly unlikely that he would be roaming so freely among the streets of Penacony.

In a back alley out of sight among the crowds, a glimmer of gold caught your attention. You turned to see what it was, only to be greeted by a man beckoning for you to come forward to join him in taking shelter from the city’s bustling streets. Letting curiosity take over, you walked over to him to get a better look, since that shine of gold could possibly mean that...

“Sorry, but have we met before?” you asked him.

The man matched the sight of the one that you saw in your dreams perfectly. He glanced down at the feather that you were holding in your hand, and so your eyes followed his gaze reminding you that you still held it. Just to be sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you, you held the feather up by him, comparing it to the small wings that were behind his ears.

The characteristics of this feather matched those of his wings perfectly.

“I believe we have,” Sunday said, with his wings perking up and eyes once again filling with hope.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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kitixie · 9 months

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The Sapphire Ring

request: Hi! If your requests are open, I’d like to ask for a Thomas Shelby x Reader. Tommy gets injured in WW1 at some point and is taken care of the same nurse (reader) at the battlefield medic hospital. She has something distinct about her (I was thinking maybe some unique piece of jewelry so it could apply to anyone). He always remembered the nurse for helping him and the reader always remembered him as a patient she saved after losing a lot of her patients. And then years later they reconnect in Birmingham (he recognizes her jewelry first). Just helping eachother through hardship and fluff and reconnection leading to romance. You’re the best, can’t wait to see what you do with it! Thanks!

word count: 2.5k

warnings/info: no warnings for this, just sweetness and a happy ending :) also, i promise i am working on the next part of “Little Girl Gone”, so be on the lookout for that this weekend!! i had so much fun doing this request, i’d love to do more so if you have any requests, please let me know! enjoy!!

1916, in the midst of World War 1.

“Y/N, there’s a patient down the hall, he’s just out of surgery. Would you check on him, Love?”

You turned to face MaryAnn, the lead nurse tonight. Her curly brown hair framed her face a shoulders, her soft smile aimed at you.

“Of course, MaryAnn,” you said, returning her small smile.

Making your way down the hall, you ducked your head in. Most of these patients you’d already seen, so spotting a new face shouldn’t be hard. Especially if he was fresh from surgery, his moaning and grumbling would probably be heard before he was seen.

You had been working at the hospital for two years, you had only started working here because of the war. Your brother had gone off to fight, leaving you and your father home alone together. Your mother had passed away two years before that, leaving you only her cherished sapphire ring. The piece of jewelry was the only luxury your mother had ever had, growing up in a small town on the banks of Dundalk. It was a large sapphire in the center, flanked on four sides by sparking, clear diamonds. You wore the ring at all times, not much worrying if it would get messed up, as the hospital had paid you nicely, and you’d saved up a small pile just in case something happened to it. You loved the ring almost as much as your mother did, feeling as if it was your only connection left to her. You peered at the ring on your finger, continuing on your search for the mystery patient.

A few doors farther down, a loud bang came from one of the patient rooms. You rushed to the door, only to see a man standing up, and a rolling metal tray lying on the floor. You watched him for a moment, just to see what his next moves were. You observed his pale skin, almost blue tinged; then his dark hair. His head was shaved around the bottom, leaving a messy patch on the top half of his head. He looked to the tray, then to the bed, then to the window on the other side of the room. He leant over to retrieve something off the floor, when he cursed.

“Sir, are you okay?” You called, stepping into the room slowly so as not to frighten him.

He slowly turned towards you, and only when he was fully facing you did you see the bloody bandage dangling from his shoulder.

“I could use a bit of help, I suppose,” he grumbled, staring at you.

You slowly approached him, letting him see that your hands were clear. He was young, a few years visibly older than you, but young enough to justify that the only reason he was in here was because of the war.

“I’m not delusional, I know where I am. So you can stop easing towards me like I’m shell-shocked, aye?” He said, an accent coming out from somewhere.

“You can never be too cautious, ya know,” you stated, straightening your posture back up to full height, and walking normally paced towards him.

You removed his own hand from his bloodied shoulder, and nodded towards the bed. He followed orders, and sat down, rolling his head to the side so you could get a better look.

“I’m Tommy,” he offered, blowing out a deep breath.

“Y/N,” you said, focusing your attention on his now leaking stitches.

You could feel as he watched you, those blue eyes tracking your every movement precisely. He had indeed pulled out his stitches, but it was nothing you couldn’t fix.

“Ya pulled your stitches, so I hope whatever you were trying to do was worth it,” You laughed, casting him a gentle glance so he’d see the joke in your eyes.

“I was trying to get a smoke, so I’d say it was worth it.”

“You want a smoke? I’m about to restitch your shoulder, so ‘ats the least I could let ya do,” you smiled, picking up his discarded pack of cigarettes from the floor, also handing him his pack of matches.

He returned the smile, immediately struck up a match, sending the smell of smoke and tobacco throughout the room. You gently closed the door, not wanting to disturb the other patients with the smell. Walking back over to Tommy, you held a small suture kit in your hands.

“This is gonna hurt, so be ready,” you breathed, not wanting him to lash out at the pain.

“I’ll be fine, Love. But talk to me, will you? Helps distract me,” he said, exhaling a long stream of smoke from his mouth and nostrils.

“Okay,” you agreed. Readying the needle and thread you began speaking right before running the small metal piece through his skin.

“I’m from Ireland, born and raised. Although I used to live in Dundalk, now here we are in Dublin. My brother is fighting in the war, at least I assume he’s still fighting, hasn’t come home alive or in a box yet,” you joked, but feeling a slight twinge of pain in your heart. You continued, “I work ‘ere every night, I like nightshift best because it’s when the least amount of people actually come into the hospital. I don’t really handle losing patients well, but that’s another story,” you sighed, nearly done with the first few stitches.

Tommy nodded his head, releasing another puff of smoke before speaking.

“I’m from Birmingham, it’s not really a place worth talking about though. I fought in the war, ‘ts how I ended up here, but you’ve gathered that much. I’ve got a couple siblings, some still at war, some not, but they’re my only family.” he said, going back to his cigarette.

“I have the one brother, and my father. My mother died a few years ago, but it’s part of my past life now.” You spoke, finishing up the last few stitches. He hasn’t flinched the entire time.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Love. But every sorrier to say I can relate.” Tommy said, gently turing his shoulders towards you now that you were done putting him back together.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry for your loss too, it never really gets better, just more dull,” you remarked, cleaning up the kit from the small rolling tray you had placed it on.

You took notice of Tommy’s staring, following his eyes as the flicked over you, assessing every detail. His eyes caught on your ring, and he cocked his head.

“That’s a lovely ring, Mrs. Y/N,” he said, drawing out the Missus.

“It’s just Miss, and thank you,” you laughed, “it was my mothers.” You gave him a soft smile, looking toward the ring on your middle finger.

You helped Tommy settle back into his small bed, then bid him goodnight with the promise to check on him tomorrow.

The next evening, you barely had time to check in before MaryAnn was hounding you about Tommy. He had been refusing care all day, saying that you were the only person he’d allow to check his stitching. The other nurses had tried to reason with, tried to explain that you wouldn’t be here until 10 pm, but he would not listen. He wanted your care, and only your care. You promised MaryAnn you would handle it, and went off on your way to his room. You rapped your hand against the door, slightly cracking it open.

“Tommy?” You called out, not wanting to startle him.

“Oi, finally. I’ve been asking for you all day, where have you been, Y/N?” He said, slowly sitting himself up in the cot.

“I told you Tommy, I work nightshift. It doesn’t switch over until 10,” you laughed, “although I am flattered that you refused all care other than mine.”

“Of course I would, you have the best bedside manner of all the nurses.” taking a drag from the cigarette you hadn’t noticed earlier, “Plus you’re beautiful,” he added.

Your cheeks flushed, and you brought a hand to chest, resting it over your heart.

“Flattery rarely works on nurses, Tommy. Now let’s get those stitches checked.” You smiled, your cheeks hurting from how genuine it was.

After checking his stitches, you gave him the all clear and told him he should be released in a few days, and you swore a frown flashed across his face before straightening back out. You bid him goodnight, with the promise to see him tomorrow night.

For a week straight, this little routine carried on. You’d come see him as soon as you arrived at work, check his stitches, then the two of you would just talk. You talked with him about varying subjects, both of your families, home life (although Tommy didn’t give much away here), and your hopes for the future. You told him of your plans to travel after the war ended, and he told you how he never wanted to travel again. You would compare families, your brother palling in comparison to the array of Shelby boys that Tommy had described to you. Every night, the two of you would talk, some conversations were short, some lasted so long that MaryAnn had to come pull you from his room so that you would round on your other patients. You developed a sense of kinship with Tommy, although the two of you were admittedly very different. You got excited to go to work, marking events in your day that you were excited to tell Tommy about. You thought of him outside of the hospital, more than you should. But how could anyone resist the charms of Tommy Shelby?

On Friday night, you arrived to the hospital. You checked in, and began rounding on your patients, saving Tommy for when you had a bit of free time; you had a lot you wanted to tell him. You eventually found your way to his room, softly knocking on the door.

“Tommy?” You called, easing through the doorway.

Tommy was sitting up in his cot, stitches almost healed enough to go home. You had come to dread the day he would leave, he felt like a friend, maybe more.

“Y/N, Love, I thought you had forgotten me.” He said, adding his signature Tommy Shelby smirk to the end.

“I could never forget you, Tommy,” you blushed, “Now, let me check up on those stitches.”

He nodded his head, tipping it to the side so that you could access his shoulder better.

“How’s Georgia?” He asked. Georgia was an elderly lady who lived in your apartments, you had told Tommy about how she loved to bake for you.

“She’s good, she brought me meat pies earlier today,” you said, giving a soft smile, “These stitches look healed Tommy, I think you can go home soon.”

Tommy grew a distant look in his eye, gazing to the floor.

“I don’t really want to go, if I’m honest.” He said, pulling you from similar thoughts.

“I know Tommy, but your family probably misses you, I know I would be.” You replied, trying to coax him with a soft rub of his shoulder.

He placed his hand gently over yours, his massive hand covering the ring.

“You would be or you will be?” He said, cheekily flashing you a smile.

“I will miss you, Tommy. You have been a joy to take care of, and a good friend to talk to.” You could feel tears wanting to come from your eyes, but ever the professional, you held them back.

He gave a soft smile, placing a gentle kiss to your hand.

“If you ever find yourself in Birmingham, come find me. I’ll be at The Garrison, waiting for you.”

Tommy had mentioned The Garrison a few times, noting how it was his family’s favorite bar and pub, and how they spent most evenings there. You gave him a soft nod, and retracted your hand.

“Goodnight, and, goodbye, Thomas.” You smiled at him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before you exited his room.

1921, five years later

You found yourself staring, craning your neck up to the sign in front of you. A hundred questionable decisions had led you here, to Birmingham.

The first decision, was getting married. The second, was getting divorced. Your husband had been a prick, and you knew it when you married him but he was handsome, and certainly you could have done worse.

The third decision was traveling. You had been all over the world, but you had avoided Birmingham like it had the plague. After Tommy was discharged, you quit the hospital. Every time you would walk by his former room, tears would well in your eyes and breath would catch in your throat. You hadn’t realized how accustomed to Him you had become, not until he’d left.

But now, five years after last seeing each other, you stood in front of the doors to The Garrison.

Pushing into the pub, holding the leash on your fear and anxiety, you approached the bar. An unpleasant bar keep took your order, appearing surprised at the order of Irish Whiskey for a young lady. You got your drink, and waited. Waited to see if what Tommy had said still rang true. Had he been waiting for you?

You heard a knock, coming from the window that peered into the back room of the pub. The bar keep opened it, and you nearly fainted. There, ten feet away, stood Mr. Thomas Shelby.

You stared at him, mouth hanging open like a fool. He had only gotten more handsome, a peaky cap now sitting atop his head, which looked much better now that he had some color and a fresh haircut. He was dressed in a fine suit, looking polished and refined, like a real man, not just a patient in the hospital. His eyes caught yours for a single second, and a look of recognition flashed across his face before vanishing. The window closed, and your heart sank. He didn’t remember you, or worse, he didn’t want you here.

You stood from your barstool, slapping a bill on the bar. Your ring, that same ring Tommy had stared at and asked a hundred questions about, still sat on your middle finger. The metal slapped against the bar, and you could only look towards the floor on your way out.

A warm, pale hand snatched your arm from your side, cradling that soft hand that held the ring.

“Y/N?”

You whirled around, face to face with Tommy. He had remembered you! You wrapped your arms around his neck, embracing him in a tight hug. He returned the gesture, wrapping his long arms around you and lifting you from the floor. Your head tucked into the crook of his neck, inhaling the tobacco scent you had always associated with Tommy. He gently placed your feet back on the floor before speaking.

“I never thought you’d come,” he breathed, a grin on his face, “but I am so glad that you did, Love.” He said, just before leaning in and placing a hard, passionate kiss to your mouth.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #tommy shelby #kitixiewrites

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burgeoning-ambition · 11 months

Text

Business Japanese Review Part One: Emails!

I'm not sure how many posts I'll make about Business Japanese, but probably more than one so I say the part one is warranted, haha.

Feel free to add anything or any questions in the notes! Like I said, this isn't a fully comprehensive infographic. Also, what do people think of the lined paper style background for the title page/intro? I think they look kinda cute for the introduction, but not for the informative parts...

One thing I will add that I couldn't fit on the slides: I think some textbooks don't have super clear distinctions between 「謙譲語Ⅰ」　「謙譲語Ⅱ」 and 「ていねいご」, so I only specifically mention 謙譲語 broadly here. Parts of 謙譲語Ⅱ and ていねいご are both described as "extra-modest" in some things, for example! Just keep in mind that my post is a simplification, and if you're interested in formal language, maybe start at learning all of the different keigo categories and what they involve!

Vocab list note: The set phrases in the greetings and closings are all comparable to set phrases in English for greetings and closings of emails. I'm putting these set phrases in their entirety in the list, with a comparable English set phrase as the definition. Do not take these as equivalent phrases! They have a similar feeling, but I am not asserting that they have identical meanings. I'm just offering something comparable in case it helps a person make more sense of them!

The full vocab list + a transcript of the post is under the cut!

Vocabulary List

試験（しけん）－　Exam, test

質問（しつもん）－　Question

食事会（しょくじかい）－　Dinner Party, Dinner Meeting/Lunch Meeting/etc.

お知らせ（おしらせ）－　Notification, Notice

会社（かいしゃ）－　Company

営業部（えいぎょうぶ）－　Sales Department

部長（ぶちょう）－　Section/Department Head

「いつもお世話になっております」　－　This is a basic email greeting, similar to "Good afternoon" or "Hello, [name]" even though the meaning doesn't match at all!

「だんだん涼しくなってまいりました」　－　Similar to "I hope this email finds you well"

さて　－　Now, Well, Then

謙譲語（けんじょうご）－　Humble Language / Extra-Modest Language

下記の通り（かきのとおり）－　The Following

返事（へんじ）－　Reply

「お待ちしております」　－　Similar to "Awaiting your reply"

「よろしくお願いいたします」　－　Similar to "Thank you"

「取り急ぎお返事申し上げます」　－　Similar to "Please get back to me soon"

申し上げます（もうしあげます）－　To Offer, To Extend (thanks, congratulations, greetings, etc.), To Do, To State（謙譲語）

以上（いじょう）－　Since, Seeing That, Above-mentioned

なお　－　Furthermore, In Addition

日時（にちじ）－　Date and Time

午後（ごご）－　PM (Time)

場所（ばしょ）－　Place, Location

集会室（しゅうかいしつ）－　Meeting Room, Assembly Room/Hall

#original post #japanese #japanese study blog #japanese langblr #japanese studyblr #language learning #langblr #studyblr #keigo #business japanese #japanese language

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sharptoothed-gaze · 2 months

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Anyone else thinking about how qPhilza essentially said that he thinks that death on Quesadilla Island is defined by its impermanence?

Because I still am, and it’s such an interesting thread to follow guys! Especially since when he was talking to Chayanne about it, he was referencing both the adult residents of the island and the dead eggs.

For the adults, we know they have respawn mechanics that can often render death down to an annoyance or even a joke. Then, there are the dead eggs, who can apparently still communicate and have conversations as ghosts despite being fully dead. From this, it is CLEAR that death is not actually the end for anyone who lives on this island. They can choose to be present regardless.

(Plus, we know that the Federation ultimately has control over the eggs’ lives. They have 100% been able to return them in some ways in the past like with Bobby’s final goodbye).

SO YEAH! Those examples of death were in qPhilza’s mind when he asked ‘what even is dead’ on the island? And that is fascinating because it’s genuinely so different from what he knew!!!

During his talk with Chayanne, Phil took the opportunity to explain the nature of the Death that he knows and is most is familiar with. It’s a Death that is permanent. He even addressed it as /real/ and distinguished it from that of the island.

Just the way he speaks about it really conveys the permanence and deep significance that Death held in the world he comes. It is a fundamental difference which highlights a distinction between Philza’s past and the reality he’s now living on Quesadilla Island.

For me, this also so clearly explains why he reacts to deaths on the island the way he does!!

At this point, he’s been on Quesadilla island so long that he has become very desensitized to the deaths of his fellow adults. To him, their deaths are nothing /permanent/ because that’s not how Death on the island works. Unlike where he’s from, he holds a confidence that any of his friends can come back with enough action.

HOWEVER even if he’s accepted this to be true for his friends, he can’t shake his own instincts. As much as he wants to think death is something safer here, he’s still from a world where Death is something entirely different. QPhilza is a deeply anxious and paranoid man who will probably never quite trust the idea that dying is okay. He might be connected to Death, but he is still a survivalist.

I think that QPhilza is a man who has felt true Death once before, and he will do everything in his power to avoid a repeat.

#Holy shit I feel like I could unpack a bit more buuuut I’m on a time crunch #ESSENTIALLY Philza’s comment about his personal experience with Death makes all the sense in the world #and it has 100% impacted both how he lives and his mentality on death for himself and others #this is so fucking relevant to Philza's reaction to Tubbo's lore btw. I just had a very limited time to cook!!#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #qsmp analysis #qsmp text post

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edgeray · 1 month

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One Hell of a Butler Pt.1

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Guys. I am so sorry. I don't think that Arlecchino oneshot is being posted tomorrow. 😿Trust that it will be posted this weekend. Take this as an apology (I am fr spoiling y'all Arle fans) for the pushback. This is a repost to something I submitted as an anon to @/megistusdiary so there's a chance you've already seen this. It was written a while ago so quality is not up to par. This is the Black Butler inspired demon au! that I talked about in my poll, check it out if you want a little bit more on this concept. (Thank you guys for voting in it! :33 I'm looking forward to writing the oneshots). Series Masterlist Content Warning: Semi-graphic descriptions of violence

Everything hurts. It burns, burns, burns, and you can't feel your limbs and your vision fades in and out. Your broken form twitches on the ground, and as your assailants approach you, ready to wrench the remaining life out of you slowly and painfully, with your final burst of energy and concentration, you let out a guttural screech, a summoning spell spewing from your raspy throat and bloodied teeth.

At first, you think nothing happens. They stalk you, unfaltering despite what you have just called for. Wearing teeth-baring grins and depraved intentions, they near your crumpled body, with their dirty, despicable hands reaching out towards you. Your half-lidded eyes shut fully, and you heave out a sigh of resignation, giving up the futile struggle of staying alive.

You hear it first before you actually see it. A sound distinct only to stilettos clicking against the ground. It jerks your attention immediately, and you twist your head slowly to face the oncoming figure. Black heels with gold adornment catch your eye, and then--

"Well, well, looks like I found the doll that called me," you hear a deep, feminine voice sibilates, voice reverberating throughout the chamber. Your gaze slowly trails up the newcomer's figure, and the white clothing, snow-white hair, and feminine features cause you to mistake her as an angel. Red-crossed pupils meet with yours. A shiver works its way up your spine but you stare in awe regardless. What kind of human was this?

One of your tormenters inquires rather rudely about the woman and storms towards her haughtily, ignorant of the fact he has just sealed his fate. There's an audible, irate click of her tongue, then a snap echoes the room. For a brief moment, your sight is filled with just red, and then your eyes widen as the aggressor bursts into a beautiful explosion of blood and guts. She walks past where once the man stood without pause, now just a puddle of blood, tutting at the blatant disrespect of the formerly alive human. Her feet stop just before you and her shadow looms over.

"A-arle...cchino?" You croak weakly as your hazy gaze sets on her. She looks so handsome, beautiful like a guardian angel, even when she's covered in red. Her lips curl up slightly and she crouches down to hook an arm behind your back and knees, lifting you bridal-style. Heat radiates from her cold-blooded being and it is so much more comforting than the icy hardness of the floor. You immediately bury your face into her shoulder while your needy hands grip onto her coat out of desperation and fear. Beneath the intense iron smell of blood, she smells of something floral, you noted with dulled surprise.

"That is me, the Knave. And what have you called me for?" She purrs from above, repositioning you in her arms so she could support you with one arm instead of both.

You give one single glance behind your shoulder towards the now cowering group of people, their behavior reminding you of feeble sheep rather than the bloodthirsty pack of wolves. You think that you'd like lamb chops after all of this.

Turning your head back, you suck in a steady breath, your voice unwavering and clear despite being muffled into her clothes. "Kill them."

"As you wish."

Even as she draws out the sweetest, most revolting of screams from the remaining alive people, you find peace in your arms. You don't watch, instead, opting to rest your head against her and try to fall asleep to your former captors' begs of mercy. A hand combing through your hair wakes you up. You admire her sharpened red nails and her black hands, so contrasting against her unblemished and perfect skin but pretty all the same. It looks nice, sifting through your hair, it feels right, it feels perfect, even if they're dipped in blood.

"Well, I suppose we can work out the contract at a later time. For now, rest, my dear," her voice is soft and it lulls you to sleep in her arms. She tucks your head underneath her chin and walks away from the bloodbath, her darling wrapped tightly close to her.

#procrastination goes crazy :(#trying to get the oneshot done I promise 🙏#i wish i didn't have anything to do on my spring break :(#arlenation fr eating good this week #prolly going to post arle at least daily for the next few days #do you guys think I should make “Arlecchino is a ___ person” a series?#i'm already trying to cook up tomorrow's Arlecchino blurb #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #edgeray.blog #edgeray.writes

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michelle-is-writing · 1 month

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Help, John Wick

Word Count: 2.8k~

Warnings: mention of gun fire, blood, injury, stitches

Working the evening shift sometimes proves to be a hassle, especially when I’m needed past midnight. On nights like these, I know as soon as I leave the hospital doors that I’m all alone in my somewhat safe city. The biggest issue in my city is the constant hidden dangers within it, as reported by the news many times. The attacks are always random, and the people are disguised, meaning no one can tell who is truly good or bad.

With the clock nearing 12:05, I’m finally able to clock out and head out of my hospital and to my car. On the way to my vehicle, I notice something weird about my driver side’s tires; they seem to be flat, but one has a knife stuck in it.

“What the…” my voice trails off as I look around my hospital’s parking lot, seeing maybe three or four other cars scattered throughout it. I’m already in a not-so-safe situation, and quite frankly, walking out alone late at night is not the best decision for someone like me to make.

Instead of risking my safety, I begin walking backwards to go back into the hospital before turning around, only to be knocked down on the ground by someone running into me from my left. As I fall with the person who rammed into me, my ears pick up distinct gunshots - something you hope to never hear when you’re leaving work late at night.

“Stay down!” A deep, gruff voice yells before the weight of the body on top of me is suddenly gone, and more gunshots ring out around me. Despite the pain from being slammed down, I still manage to shuffle away and get behind the bushes next to the pavement. It’s not the best cover, but it can at least help me figure out what the hell is going on right now.

Looking through the thick branches of leaves in front of me, I spot two people now revealed by the street lights as they shoot toward the entrance of the hospital. “Why would anyone shoot at a hospital?!” I find myself muttering before I jerk my head over to the doors. There stands a dark-haired man dressed in an all black suit, a pistol in his hands as well. Only two shots are fired from that pistol before all gunshots come to a stop, but before I have any time to process what has just happened, the man is running toward me. I’ve never seen him before, and he certainly doesn’t look like someone who could shoot two people in two clear shots. His face is even cast with concern as he nears the bushes I hide behind, a hand outreached for me.

“We need to go! Now!” He tells me, grabbing my hand before yanking me up from the ground and taking off. With his hand firmly gripping my hand, I’m left with no other choice but to run with him. Feeling my fight-or-flight instincts kick in, I recognize the rush of anxiety flowing through me as well as so much confusion. Why am I running with a man who just shot several men either wounded or dead? He’s obviously trying to help me, but who exactly is he trying to protect me from?

After running across the parking lot to a car parked in the shade, the man yells at me to get in, but as I near the passenger side door, I feel myself halt as time slowly passes around me. My body feels as if it’s stuck in honey, unable to move or do anything, and my mind doesn’t feel much better.

“Get in now!” The man yells one more time, fully snapping me out of my stupor and bringing my attention to the door handle of an older car as I open it before climbing in. Alongside me is the man falling into the driver's side, quickly turning the engine on before speeding out of the parking lot. Speeding lights pass all around me while my eyes fall to my arms and hands, a burning sensation taking over my limbs. My palms and elbows are scratched up from the fall, droplets of blood adorning the scrapes before leading down to the new holes on the knees of my scrub pants, crimson liquid beginning to show through there as well.

In this moment, as my brain now begins to process the oncoming stings and burns, I turn my head toward the man, finding him to be focusing every ounce of his attention on the road in front of us as he speeds way above the limit. “What just happened?” I ask him, my voice almost disturbing him from his focus as he slightly jolts in his seat. “What’s going on?”

He shakes his head, his long hair moving along with him as he seemingly ponders if he should answer my question or not. For a few seconds, he remains quiet before sighing and giving in. “It’s… hard to explain,” he starts, giving me a cautious glance before looking back at the road in front of him as he speeds through traffic. Between taking sharp turns and darting in between cars, I can’t help but grasp the door with all my might to keep me from going all over the place.

“A couple days ago, you treated a patient, a man who came in with a bullet wound directly below his heart,” The man explains, making me stare at him confused. I did have a patient come in with those exact issues, but he told us he was mugged and that’s why he was shot. Why would someone try to attack a mugging victim in the way they did?

“Well, the guy wasn’t exactly mugged, and the people who shot him thought you were helping out him and his… group,” he further adds, making my eyes widen in a mix of horror and confusion. “They didn't even know your name or anything about you and they still tried to put a hit on you, all because you helped him survive. He asked me to make sure nothing happened to you, said you were a sweet girl, and I promised him I would keep you safe,” he nods his head toward the road. “So, here we are.”

Despite his explanation definitely being… weird, I don’t question him any more about it, and instead, I ask him something else. “What’s your name?”

At my question, he gives me a wary glance before answering. “John,” he tells me, gaining a nod back from me.

“John, I think you got shot,” I inform him, my eyes falling to his bloody arm. It looks like the bullet either grazed or went completely through his arm, but nonetheless, it’s still bleeding like a gunshot wound.

John barely reacts, only nodding his head “I know,” he simply explains as if it were something simple and not a bullet wound. “I’ll take you somewhere safe until we know what the group is trying to achieve.”

His words barely register in my ears before I’m turning in my seat to shake my head at him. “No, no, we need to go to my apartment,” I urge him, and just as I expected, he begins to tell me it’s not safe. “But my dogs are there!” I quickly argue back, feeling my heart pound away in my chest.

In an instant, it’s like a flip in his head switches, and he gives me a small nod in response to my words. “Okay,” he simply mutters, “Show me how to get there.”

Arriving at my apartment, John parks the car way down my street before having us run up to my back gate and get in through there. By the looks of it, my apartment seems to be untouched, and after John does a quick run through, I’m able to let out a sigh of relief. I’ve witnessed a lot of crazy things tonight, and the fact that I have a man whom I just met in my house after being shot at is crazy. However, my dogs don’t seem to care about the crazy night I’ve had as they’re too busy trying to get John to pet them. In spite of what I witnessed him do earlier in the midst of gunfire, seeing him act like a complete teddy bear around my dogs practically makes my heart skip a beat.

“Sit down here, John,” I tell him, gesturing to stools by my counter as I wash my hands in the kitchen sink. “So I can stitch up your arm,” I add, drying the water from my hands before gathering the stuff I need from my medicine cabinet. He nods at my words before sitting and waiting patiently, now with my smallest dog in his lap. Beside him are my other dogs, all sitting beside him as if they were all best friends already.

Smiling at the sight, I look up from my dogs to meet his eyes, only to be greeted by his chocolate-like eyes already staring back into mine. However, I quickly look away and begin helping him take his coat off all the while remaining careful about the arm he got shot in. It’s only after I cut the arm of his sleeve off and begin gently cleaning the dried up blood off his arm that John speaks up. “Do you treat all your patients like this?” He asks, a small smile taking over his lips as the question falls from his mouth.

I find myself smiling back at him before moving onto clean the actual wound. “Only special ones,” I tell him, earning a small chuckle back from him despite me pressing gauze with alcohol against the bullet wound on his arm. I choose not to mention it, and instead point out all of my dogs’ sudden fondness for the man. “They really like you,” I point out before examining his wound. The bullet went through the very edge of his arm, avoiding his humerus or anything major. Despite it leaving a decent sized wound, it’s still a pretty easy fix, thankfully.

Telling John he’ll need stitches only gains a hum back from him. Even when I poke the needle through his skin and pull it through, he still fails to react, and instead, John speaks up with the same tone of voice he had earlier. “I love dogs,” John confesses, using his free hand to scratch the wrinkles on my pug’s forehead. “And they’re all so cute too,” he adds, once again, not showing any sign of pain as I finish suturing his arm.

“That’s a good thing, that you love dogs,” I tell him, dressing his arm before taping it. “It shows a lot about someone,” I add, watching as he watches me closely, yet softly. As time goes on, I anticipate his next words, but even now, he still doesn’t mention it.

“I’m sorry we met this way,” John’s apology takes me by surprise, causing me to look away from his arm and stare at him. “I wish this could’ve been under better circumstances,” he adds, a small sigh falling from his lips afterward. “You’re a truly wonderful person; you didn’t deserve to be a target tonight.”

Instead of agreeing with him, I sigh as well before smiling and speaking up. “If it weren’t for you, they would’ve shot me. Over something I haven’t the slightest clue on,” I point out to him, “I know there are things that go on in this city, and I never expected to be in the middle of it, but I am eternally grateful that you were there and able to save me tonight,” Taking his hand in mine, I maintain eye contact with him and squeeze his hand. “You saved my life tonight. Thank you.”

At my words, John smiles back and nods. “No problem, nurse (Y/n),” he tells me, his thumb gently running across the back of my hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to do it again,” he adds, making my smile grow even more as his eyes never leave mine. I don’t doubt the mysterious stranger will hold true to his word, but at the same time, I want to learn more about the man outside of saving me from the city’s dangers.

“And I’ll be here to patch you up again,” I tell him back, giving his hand a quick squeeze before turning to put away all of my medical supplies. “In the meantime,” I start, glancing between him and my kit as my dogs take the opportunity to swarm him. “Would you mind explaining to me a little bit about what exactly goes on in this city?”

John doesn’t respond right away, and instead, he chooses to stand up beside me in spite of the protests from his new furry friends. Putting away the rolled gauze and cotton balls, I look over at him as he appears beside me, only to earn another small smile from him like before. “Too much for one night,” he tells me, placing a gentle hand on my arm as if to stop me from messing with my medical supplies. “For right now, you need to sleep. You’ve had a long day,” he points out. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to make sure you continue to stay safe for the night. Is it alright if I stay here?”

Seeing him gesture toward my living room where all of my dogs sit and eagerly wait for him to join them on the couch makes a small laugh leave my lips. If it weren’t for him saving my life and my dogs being so trusting of him, then I probably wouldn’t be as confident as I am with letting him stay. “Actually, I would prefer that,” I tell him, before nodding at the couch behind him. “Although I don’t think you’ll be alone, unfortunately.”

Just as I say that, all the dogs run over to us and stare up at him, causing John to look down at my dogs with a smile before his expression changes into one of concern. “You need to be bandaged as well,” He tells me, causing me to look down and see my busted up knees once more, reminding me off the dull pain currently shooting from them. “Let me do it,” he further adds before gently pushing me to sit back on the stool just like I had done with him.

“I can handle them, it’s okay,” I tell him with a chuckle. “I’ve handled much worse on myself.”

Despite my words, John doesn’t respond to me, and instead, he opens my med kit back up and begins taking out the same kind of supplies I used on him, all except for the sterilized needle and string thankfully. He doesn’t argue with me on me taking care of myself, but he acts as if I hadn’t said anything to him either.

Strangely, I allow him to take care of my wounds without interrupting him, settling for watching him instead. It’s only when he moves onto rolling my scrub pants above my knees that I find myself regretting my decision. His touch is seemingly nothing more than that of someone who cares, but I can’t help but feel the small degree of intimacy in the moment. I can’t decide if it’s his slightly rough, yet gentle hands grazing my skin or just the close proximity of him on his knees in front of me, but my mind is scrambled right now.

“Told you I’d keep you safe, right?” I hear him say, bringing me out of my stupor and down to him once again. His eyes remain on his task at hand, being careful as ever while cleaning my wounds. Instead of responding, I smile and simply nod back at him, relaxing a little as I do so. He seems to pick up on this, a soft, small smile making its way onto his face as well as he moves onto bandaging the now clean scrapes and cuts.

Once again, I feel his hands touch my skin with gentleness and care, but at the same time, I can’t help but revel in the sensualness of it as well. It doesn’t help that there are times that his touch lingers more than necessary and the smile on his face still has yet to die down. I can’t help but feel bad for the thoughts currently flowing through my mind, but a part of me likes the idea of him staying with me - minus the reason why, of course. Another part of me hopes this isn’t just a one time thing either.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #John wick imagines #john wick fanfic #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #Keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #Keanu reeves imagines #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick chapter 4 #john wick 4 #keanu #keanuverse

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jmojellybae · 2 years

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Lay All Your Love On Me

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!reader

Word count: 6k

Summary: It’s a Friday night, and Robin has cleared her schedule to spend time with you. She wants to take you out, and you fully expect Steve to be your taxi like always, but Robin has a surprise.

CW: 18+ Fluff to Smut real quick. You might get whiplash. Romantic Robin. Mature language. Kissing. Making out. Pet names. Reader wears a dress. Non-serious thoughts of kidnapping. Dirty talk. Rough!Robin. Groping. Hair pulling. Finger sucking. Drool. Praising. Oral (Robin receiving) Light period typical homophobia. All characters involved are 18+

A/N: This fic can be read as a standalone or as follow up of 3rd Period. l do highly recommend reading it as it provides more of a backstory to Robin and Reader’s relationship. As always, likes/reblogs/feedback is much appreciated.

Masterlist

🎵 Enjoy my 80′s Robin playlist here 🎵

The upbeat disco beats of Abba gently fill your room as you sit at your vanity, meticulously applying a light coat of blush on your cheeks. It’s a Friday night, and by some miracle, Robin doesn’t have anything to do. No band practice. No Family Video. No school projects. For the first time in a long time, your girlfriend has a clear schedule, and she fully dedicated the night to you.

You’re unable to contain the excitement thinking about what Robin has planned. In all honesty, it didn’t matter where or what you were doing. It’s been a long time since the two of you had a real date. You’d be happy with anything. You suggested just staying in and watching some movies, but Robin insisted she’d take you somewhere like she promised.

You give your face a once over, happy with how well you did your makeup. You stand up and make your way to your closet and swing the double doors open.

“Now the hard part.” You mutter to yourself.

You let out a puff of air looking at the options in front of you. You didn’t know what to dress for. Casual? Fancy? Would it matter to Robin? Definitely not. You decide to go with a safe option and pull out a mint colored pleated dress.

After getting dressed, you check the time. Steve and Robin should be here any minute. Yes, Steve. Because you and Robin rely on him to drive the both of you places. You feel guilty having Steve chauffeur the two of you around all the time, but according to him, it’s not a big deal. He enjoys seeing Robin happy, and he never misses a beat to tease her about it when given the chance. You totally would drive, but you don’t know how, and neither does Robin. It’s quite the pitiful dilemma.

You look out your window and see an empty driveway. Your parents have already left for the night to have their own date night adventures and they’ll be out late, which means (according to you) you can also be out late. You wonder what kind of shenanigans you can get up to later.

A car turning into your driveway breaks you out of your thoughts, and you notice immediately that it’s not Steve’s car. In fact, you don’t recognize the car at all. Could Steve have gotten a new car? You tilt your head thinking. The car turns off and sits idle in your drive away. You notice movement in the driver’s seat, but the darkness of night prevents you from clearly seeing anything distinct.

Curious, you step away from the window and start heading downstairs.

Who’s car is that? Is Robin okay? Is Steve okay? Am I about to be kidnapped by someone driving a Volkswagen Dasher?

You start thinking critically about the many different ways you could escape being tied up as you make your way down the stairs and to your front door.

You confidently walk to your front door and swing it open with so much force that you create a tiny gust of wind on yourself. You expect to see a creeper standing in front of you, but to your surprise, it’s Robin standing there, being illuminated by the porch light, looking incredibly dashing. She’s still as stone. Her hand is halfway raised looking like she was about to ring your doorbell. Her other hand is behind her back.

“Hi, pretty girl.” She blinks at you, taking in your worried expression. “Are you okay?”

“Robin!” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You stand on your tiptoes to look over Robin’s shoulder at the car in the driveway. “Did Steve get a new car? I don’t see him. What’s going on?”

Robin smiles wide, a beautiful blush spreads across her cheeks.

“Um. I drove, and that is actually my car.” She says proudly.

“What?!” You take her arm and drag her inside your house and close the door behind her. You want to ask a million questions.

“Wait, wait!” You can hear her laughing behind you. You take a deep breath, trying to keep it together.

“Robin, you know you can’t drive. You don’t even have a license! Please tell me you didn’t really-” You whip around and Robin is holding her hand out. She’s holding a beautiful, single red rose. Whatever else you were about to say dies on your lips.

“Surprise!” Robin says shakily. Her voice cracks like she’s suddenly nervous.

“Oh!” You squeak at the unexpected gesture. You’re caught completely off guard at the romantic act. You carefully reach for the delicate rose, bringing it to your nose.

“I um. I’m sorry that it’s just one. I would have totally gotten you more but uh, I wasn’t even sure if you liked roses, you know? Roses are like, super expensive too. Did you know that? I wanted to save as much money as possible to take you anywhere you wanted to go tonight so-” Robin goes on one of her famous rambles. You watch her go through a myriad of different facial expressions, eyebrows twitching up every so often.

You smell the rose again and the combination of the flowery fragrance and Robin’s scratchy voice calms your wired nerves. A kidnapper, really? You curse your imagination for running wild.

“Robin.” You grab the front of her jacket and pull her towards you, careful not to crush the rose. She stops talking and flashes you an toothy grin. “Thank you so much. This is really sweet.” You lean up and give her a soft, quick kiss.

“Yea?” Robin visibly deflates in relief.

“Of course, silly…” Your hand comes up to caress her cheek and she nudges into your palm like a cat. “But!” You break the cute moment and give her a sudden, harmless, tap on her cheek. “Did you really drive here? What’s going on?”

Robin stands up a bit straighter and takes a huge breath through her nose.

“You want the long version or the gist?” She asks.

You snort, knowing you’ll get the long version either way. “The gist please.”

“Okay. When we started dating, it really sucked not being able to um, hang out with you freely. If you know what I mean. I wanted to get my drivers license, but my parents didn’t have the time to teach me and didn’t have the money to get me into any classes. We were totally poor. Well not really. They were just-”

“Babe.” You gently interrupt her.

“Right, right, sorry. Anyway, I started picking up more shifts at Family Video so I could pay for the classes on my own. Even Dingus let me take some of his shifts.”

You think about all the times you wanted to see Robin after school and on the weekends but it always seemed like she was working. Your heart broke every time she told you she couldn’t. If she wasn’t at band practice, she was at Family Video. It was definitely hard to get through some weeks. You nod your head to signal for her to continue.

“Yea. Yea. Eventually, I had enough to pay for driving classes. I was super proud of myself. I sat through the classes and, god were those classes boring. Steve would even let me practice driving with his car. You should have seen his face every time I would brake too hard. Thought he was gonna strangle me and accidentally commit a hate crime. Anyway! I aced the actual driving test on my first try!”

The image of Steve losing his shit over his car and Robin behind the wheel makes you laugh out loud. You think about what Robin said, and a realization occurs to you.

“Wait, so you learned to drive without telling me, and somehow bought a car? You kept all that a secret?” You’re a little hurt that Robin would keep something like this from you, even though it’s facetious to think she did it for malicious reasons. She notices the hurt on your face and begins to sputter.

“Well, hold on! I wanted to surprise you. I figured wow, wouldn’t it be so cool if I could take my awesome girlfriend wherever she wanted whenever without having to rely on my best friend to take us everywhere like a couple of children? My parents noticed how much I wanted this, and they made me a deal that if I did well in school, kept up with band, and paid for my driving classes, they would pitch in to help buy me my own car! I really wanted this for us.”

The confession almost sweeps your legs from under you. You’re dizzy from the amount of pure adoration and genuine sincerity coming from Robin’s words. Robin worked herself to the bone for months for you?

Noticing your still unconvinced expression, Robin reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her beat up wallet. “Look.”

She opens it and right there on the front, is her drivers license. Picture and all. She is smiling so wide in her picture and your heart does a little flip of how happy she looks. You know she was so proud of herself that day. You smile warmly and Robin lights up and your reaction. She shoves her wallet back into her pocket.

Robin gently plucks the rose that’s in your hand and places it on top of a nearby side table. She takes your hands and intertwines your fingers with hers. Your skin makes contact with her rings and the touch sends a cool chill through you. You gaze into your eyes, her expression tender.

“I’ve got the girl, and now I’ve got the car. I can take you to school, pick you up. Take you out on the weekends. Maybe, Um. Maybe take trips somewhere. Just the two of us. Without worrying too much about…well you know…”

Your heart is full. Robin is staring at you like you’re the only thing in the universe. You shake your head in disbelief of how utterly lucky you are.

“So you did all this in what, a couple of months?” You question.

Robin shakes her head up and down a little too fast. “Mhm. Four to be exact.”

You feel like an ass. Here was Robin, your amazing girlfriend, working way too much for a high school student, going to band, learning to drive and keeping her grades up all the while you’d mope and complain about your lack of time together. Obviously, you didn’t know what she was doing, but you can’t help but feel terrible with how hard she had to work over the last few months. Hell, you’re sure even some adults would crack under the pressure of it all.

Robin notices your brows knitting together in thought. She grabs your chin and turns you to face her.

“Hey. Don’t worry, pretty girl. It was worth it. Trust me.”

Robin smiles down at you and leans in closer. You naturally gravitate toward her and meet her halfway, her soft lips make contact with yours in a sweet and slow kiss. You are overwhelmed by everything Robin just said to you. You never doubted Robin’s devotion, but this was the most amazing gesture anyone has ever done for you.

Robin’s hands are on your waist and she pulls your hips flush against hers. You can’t hold back the moan that escapes you. Robin’s hums and smiles against your mouth at your reaction.

“Now don’t go making those noises or else we might not leave this house.” She jokes, but you can’t ignore the way your body reacts to her words.

“Hmm.” You tap your finger on your lips and act like you’re deep in thought. “What if we stayed here just a little longer before going out?” You bat your eyelashes innocently, but your request is anything but.

Robin understands but raises an eyebrow in surprise anyway. “I would love nothing more pretty girl but um…your parents?”

“Gone, and will be for a while. It’s their date night too you know. Plus, I don’t think I’m quite ready to be in a car with you behind the wheel yet, Buckley.” You jest, and Robin laughs, low and warm.

Robin grabs your face with both hands and blows a gnarly, wet, raspberry on your cheek. You yell in disgust at the crude noise and you try to push her away but you’re laughing too much. She’s got you wrapped up tight in her arms now, and you can barely budge.

“Did you not hear me when I said I aced the test on my first try?”

“Beginner's luck.” You strain to say against her body. You manage to wiggle free from her grip.

“Huh. That’s weird. Sounds like someone with no license is trying to talk to me.” She cups a hand to her ear and leans toward you.

You act quickly. Robin is making this too easy. You stick your finger in your mouth and aim right for her ear. Robin acts like she just got sucker punched. She jerks back, holding on to her ear and twirls in place a couple times. She’s repulsed.

“Augh!! A Wet Willy?!” She’s rubbing her ear, a look of betrayal on her face. “That’s sinful!”

You’re doubled over in laughter, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, but one look on Robin’s face has you sobering up quickly. A predatory gleam darkens your girlfriend’s features and you know you’re in trouble. You gulp.

“Oh shit.”

Robin reaches for you and you only just manage to evade her. You run to the living room, Robin hot on your heels. You’re joyous screams and Robin’s heavy footsteps fill the house. Your heart is beating so fast at the thrill of your girlfriend chasing you. You thank the heavens that Robin is so uncoordinated. You manage to evade her swipes every time she’s within reach. Robin chases you in circles around the couch a couple of times. You’re both laughing at the ridiculousness of it.

You are starting to lose your breath. “Wait wait! Truce!” You stop in front of the couch with your hands raised in front of you. Robin stands on the other side of the couch, you’re both panting. “Let’s call a truce before we break something!”

“Fine.” She says breathlessly. “You wanna apologize you little hellion?”

You laugh at her choice of vocabulary. Despite the wonderful news Robin told you about her recent achievements, you are in a spunky mood. You want to keep pushing Robin’s buttons a little more.

You smile crookedly and cross your arms defiantly. “I have nothing to apologize for.” And you stick your nose in the air.

Robin vaults, actually vaults over the sofa that was separating you two and you don’t even have time to blink before she effortlessly wraps her arms around you in a crushing bear hug. You squeal in amusement and flail like fish trying to escape, unfortunately she’s got her hands securely locked around you and she starts peppering your face with a dozen tiny little kisses. You’re laughing uncontrollably now. You don’t even really care if you go out tonight anymore. Robin being with you, like this, is way more than enough.

You’re overwhelmed with emotion. You kiss Robin deeply, and she makes a delighted noise deep in her throat. You feel the tiny vibration shake your whole body. Her arms forget their hold on you and instead fall to your waist. Robin starts to move her feet as you continue attacking her sweet mouth with your own. You absently follow her, unable and unwilling to break the kiss. Robin collapses onto the couch and positions you to straddle her lap.

The kisses started out soft at first, but the longer your make out session went on, the more furious the kisses became. Each slide of lips and tongue only got you more worked up. You couldn’t help but move your hips back and forth in her lap, trying to find any kind of friction. Robin moves her hands from your waist to your ass, giving your flesh a bruising squeeze over your dress as you moved against her. You feel a white hot ache in your lower abdomen at the rough touch.

Fuck. It’s suddenly too hot.

Feeling daring, you catch Robin’s bottom lip with your teeth, giving it a harsh tug. Robin winces but growls pleasingly at the sensation. She retaliates by slinking a hand in your hair and harshly tugs, pulling your head back and forcing you to bare your throat. You feel a spark of desire ignite through your whole body at slight pain and let out a wretched moan.

“What’s got my pretty girl so feisty tonight?” She asks in a cool voice. She places open mouthed wet kisses all along the base of your throat.

“Robin…” You’re breathless and whiny. Robin takes pity on you and lets go of the vice grip she has on your roots. You stare at her. Her eyes are cloudy with desire and you know you must give off the same look.

“What do you want, baby?” Robin’s voice is coarse and low.

You want to make Robin feel good. You want to reward her for all the hard work she put herself through over these past few months. You want to let her know how much you appreciate her, and how lucky you are to have a woman like her in your life.

You whimper and shift against her. “I want to taste you. Please Robin.” You blurt out. You can see Robin’s eyes go a little wide, like she wasn’t expecting you to say that.

“Yea? That’s what you want?”

You nod your head excitedly, and Robin chuckles at your enthusiasm. “I owe you from last time, remember?” You give her a sly wink.

You can see Robin thinking very hard about your request. You pout cutely, and give her some serious puppy dog eyes. She clicks her tongue and relents. Like she could ever say no to you.

“Get on your knees for me then.” Robin commands, you start to move a little too quickly, your eagerness taking over your mind and body. Robin roughly grabs your chin to stop you. “Slowly.” She says in an almost dangerous timbre. Your cunt throbs at her tone of voice. It lacks the usual tenderness you get all the time from Robin, replaced by something more sharp and assertive. This dominant side of your girlfriend is nothing new to you. You know exactly what to do when she wants to play this game, and you are more than happy to oblige her, especially after all that you learned today.

You give her an apologetic look. She lets go of your chin with a flick of her wrist, and you sensually crawl down her body. Slow, just like she wants. She watches you with a ravenous gaze. She brings her thumb between her teeth as your body slides deliciously down hers. You maintain eye contact as you sink to your knees and nestle between Robin’s legs. You can see the darkness in Robin’s eyes grow large. Her pupils are blown wide at the sight of you on your knees for her. You reach for her belt on her jeans but she pushes your hands away. You look up at her curiously.

“Not yet, baby.”

Robin sits up and takes off her jacket and tosses haphazardly. It lands somewhere with a thud. You don’t even know. You continue watching her through a hazy lens of desire. Robin leans forward and cups your face with a hand. Her thumb lazily caresses your heated cheeks. You smile and hum happily for her, a reassuring noise to Robin that lets her know that you’re okay. She beams lovingly down at you.

“Such a sweet thing.” She traces two fingers down your forehead to the bridge of your nose. You let out a light, little laugh at the tickling feeling. She pauses at your lips. “Open that pretty mouth for me.”

You obediently part your lips and eagerly take Robin’s fingers in your mouth. You maintain eye contact with Robin as she slowly slides her fingers over your tongue to the second knuckle. Robin watches you through hooded eyes. You ball your fist in the hem of your dress, knuckles turning white trying to be patient. Robin presses down against your tongue just slightly but it causes your head to jerk back out of instinct. She laughs darkly. You fight the urge to bite her and wipe that dumb grin off her face.

“Go on then pretty girl. Give me a show.” She presses a tiny bit further in your mouth.

You close your lips tightly around her fingers and suck. You slowly move your head up and down the length of Robin’s fingers and you watch as she bites her lip absently. Robin pumps her fingers in tandem with your movements. The pressure of Robin’s fingers sliding against your tongue makes you moan around her. Robin shivers at the sensation. Even though you’re still fully clothed, you feel extremely exposed, not to mention small. You love this feeling, you decide. So much so, that you start rocking your hips into nothing. You let out a symphony of obscene moans as Robin’s fingers work your mouth.

The sucking noises combined with your whiny, needy mewls only spur Robin on. “You like getting your mouth fucked like this?” She says in a cracked voice. Her deep blue eyes have been replaced by her blown pupils and an almost animalistic veil cloaks her features. You clench your thighs together at Robin’s arrogant tone. You can feel arousal start to pool in your underwear. You don’t reply to her verbally. You only speed up your efforts hoping that satisfies her for an answer. Robin is pleased it seems, judging by her wicked grin. You’re making a mess of yourself, and Robin loves it. Your saliva has coated Robin’s rings and you feel more of it drip down your chin.

You try to hold down a gag after a particular hard thrust but it chokes out of you anyway. Robin gently cups your face signaling for you to stop. You open your mouth and Robin slips out her fingers. A string of spit follows, attached to your lower lip. It breaks and sticks to your dress. You try to be disgusted with yourself, but it turns out it doesn’t faze you, and it only turns Robin on even more. You look up at Robin with shimmering, needy, eyes. Your lips are puffy and trembling.

Robin wipes her hand on top of her jeans. She leans forward again, this time, to tilt your chin up and kiss you. A kiss so sloppy and hot you feel it scald. She groans in your mouth and you are reduced to a puddle under her.

Robin breaks the kiss and kicks her red converse off, careful not to accidentally hit you in the process. She settles back into the couch.

“Go ahead, pretty girl.” She says breathless. Her voice comes out a little shaky.

You need no further instruction. Your hands come up to her knees and you slowly glide them up, massaging her thighs along the way. Robin is already bucking her hips up in anticipation. You finally reach that damn belt of hers and hurriedly unbuckle it with careful precision. Robin is watching your hands attentively as you work on the button and zipper. She’s quiet, for once, and at first you’re a little concerned, but she’s already lifting her up her hips for you expectantly. You smile to yourself.

Your fingers dip into the waistband of her underwear, and you pull down her jeans and underwear in a flourish. You free both articles of clothing from her long legs and toss them behind you. Robin scoots down the couch a little lower, her bottom half almost hanging off the edge of the couch and invitingly spreads wider for you. You can see her glistening slick sticking to her inner thighs and some of it is coating her dark, fine hairs. The sight and smell of her shatters you completely.

“Baby, please.” You hear her say, barely louder than a whisper. Robin blushes a deep crimson. Normally, Robin isn’t one to beg for anything from you. You’re usually the one doing that. You want to make a quip, but think better of it. You figure that you teased Robin enough. You don’t want to be that mean. At least not tonight.

You waste no more time. You start leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses along the inside of her thighs, getting closer to her to center after each one. You can hear Robin whimper above you as you get closer to where she needs you the most. You place a feather light kiss directly on her clit and her whole body twitches at the touch. She’s so hot and wet.

You adjust your kneeling position one last time before indulging. You flatten your tongue, and burrow yourself deep into Robin’s folds and god she taste so fucking good.

Robin bucks her hips almost violently at your first lick and her hand immediately grabs fistfuls of your hair. She pushes you in deeper, and you let her. You can’t help but be pliant under her touch, addicted to the way she controls you. You groan against her when her taste engulfs your senses entirely.

You want to go feral on her cunt. You want to see how fast you can make her cum. It takes every fiber of your being to control yourself and push those urges away. Your girlfriend deserves to have her pussy eaten slow, lovingly, and for however long she wants in whatever way she wants.

You continue your slow strokes, gliding up and down Robin’s cunt, greedily lapping up her wetness in the process. You lick from her entrance all the way up to clit and back down. Repeating the motions over and over. You moan against her, and the vibrations send a heavenly shiver throughout Robin’s body.

“Fuck. Feels s’good.” Robin sighs in pleasure and her head falls backward against the couch cushion. You stare up at her through your eyelashes as your mouth continues to worship her. She’s looking up toward the ceiling with her eyes closed, her free arm resting behind her head and her mouth slightly agape. She has a pure, blissed out expression on her face. You are enamored with the sight of her being so relaxed. Something about Robin reclining back and enjoying herself so leisurely while you’re on your knees eating her out sends some kind of unknown feeling to your brain, and it’s definitely not a bad feeling either.

You can feel her hand tug tighter in your hair, and she’s guiding you a little higher. When your tongue makes contact with her clit, she keeps your head there. You don’t need to be told what she wants. You bring your tongue to a point and circle the spot with just the right amount of pressure you know Robin likes. A wave ripples throughout Robin’s body and her arm comes from behind her head to yours. She’s got both of her hands clutched on either side of your head. Securely locking you in place. Her chest starts to rise and fall faster. It’s a beautiful display.

Robin whines and starts to slowly roll her hips in time with your tongue. “Right there pretty girl. Right there.” She strains to talk clearly and her voice cracks. Your own cunt is begging for any kind of relief. Each roll of Robin’s hips on your face sends an almost painful throb straight to your core.

You alternate techniques, switching between sharp tight circles to long, broad strokes. Occasionally closing your lips around Robin’s clit to suck. You’re eating Robin’s pussy with purpose now. It’s hard to be slow when Robin is grinding against your mouth. You whine harshly against a mouthful of pussy as your own desperation rocks you again. Robin dares to look down, and she’s met with your hungry and needy eyes.

“You’re doing so well babe.” Robin coos. The fire burning in your lower belly only grows at her praising. All you can do is let her fuck your mouth while your tongue tries to keep up with her erratic thrusting. Her breathing is coming out in short, shallow breaths and she’s clutching your head tighter. You hum excitedly below her, knowing she’s getting close.

You tap her thigh, signaling to her. Robin lets go of your head and you pull back gasping.

“Fuck my face Robin.” You cry out, you don’t even recognize your own voice. “Please can you-”

You don’t even get to finish what you were about to say. Robin grabs the back of your head again and forcefully shoves your face back into her cunt. You let out an embarrassing salacious moan at being manhandled.

“What my pretty girl wants, she gets.” Robin says with a growl.

She clutches your skull with both hands again and you lay your tongue flat against her swollen clit, bracing yourself for what’s to come.

Robin mercilessly thrusts her hips into you, grinding herself at a furious pace against your mouth. You can only take short breaths through your nose in between her thrusts. Fuck. You can barely breathe, but you couldn’t care less. The way Robin is abusing your face and tongue makes your cunt quiver once again. You know for a fact you are soaked through your panties. You can feel it every time you shift.

“Touch yourself.” Robin grunts, as if reading your mind. “Want…want you to cum too.” Oh thank god.

While Robin continues her ruthless bucking, your hand flies under your skirt and quickly dips inside your panties. You’ve never been so wet in your life. You don’t know whether to be impressed or embarrassed. You don’t give yourself time to decide. You hurriedly find your clit and frantically start getting yourself off. You want to catch up to Robin’s own imminent orgasm.

Robin’s high pitched moaning and the wet sounds of your face being fucked is a cacophony of the most unholiest music, and your empty house amplify each note.

Your jaw is starting to ache, but you don’t dare try and pull away. You wanted Robin to use you like a toy and that’s exactly what you intend to stay as.

Robin’s eyes have screwed tightly shut and her eyebrows knit together in concentration. You know this face all too well. You furiously rub small tight circles against your clit.

“Shit….” Robin whispers low and broken. Her fingers grip your hair and her hands shake with how tightly she’s pulling. You wince at the intense pain but it only fuels the fire of your growing orgasm. “Gonna cum. Gonna fucki-” Robin’s eyes roll in the back of her head and arches her back as an intense orgasm takes over her body, and god, is it a spectacle. She unleashes a guttural moan as her hips convulse in a broken rhythm against you. You relax your tongue, letting her ride out her climax, and without warning, your own orgasm catches up to you. It takes you by surprise and you find yourself cumming against your fingers. A deep groan falls from your lips and the vibrations make Robin twitch away from you.

The both of you ride out the last waves of your orgasm together until Robin can’t take any more stimulation. She relaxes and frees your head from her clutches. You swiftly sit up straight and take deep breaths, trying to fill your lungs back with air. A cold breeze hits your chin and nose, letting you know that your face is drenched in a mixture of Robin’s arousal and your own spit. You groan as you slip your cum covered fingers out from under you and wipe them against your dress. Fuck it. You never really liked this dress anyway. You lift the hem of your dress up and wipe your face dry. You feel so dirty, and you kinda love it. In your post orgasm stupor, you look at Robin, who’s fallen on her side and nestled into the couch, lazily watching you, looking completely fucked out. You look away from her, embarrassed that she just witnessed you clean cum and spit off yourself.

“Mmm. Y’look s’pretty.” She says dopey and slurred. You snort and shake your head.

“You good there, Buckley?” You ask sarcastically.

She gives you a shaky thumbs up as an answer and you laugh. You can see Robin’s usual goofiness start to creep its way back into her features.

“Can uh. Can you get my clothes pretty girl? I don’t think I can move.” She confesses. You quirk an eyebrow questionably.

“Really? After what I just did for you?” You ask teasingly. Regardless, you get up on shaky legs and start gathering her discarded clothes in your arms.

“Mmm, and I loved it baby believe me, but I kinda did most of the work.” She says jokingly, but then immediately regrets it.

You’re standing at the edge of the couch, looming over her. Her clothes raised high above your head. Now Robin is the one to visibly gulp.

“I love you?” She says nervously.

You slam the bundle of clothes right on top of her with all your might.

—

A few minutes later. The two of you are sitting on the couch, Robin’s arm draped over your shoulder. You’ll never be able to look at this couch the same way for a while.

“It’s still early. Did you still wanna go out?” Robin’s scratchy voice breaks you out of your thoughts. She sounds hopeful. You hum happily and nestle into her arm.

“Sure. I definitely need to change first though.” You look down at your stained dress and grimace. Robin follows your eyes and nods her head.

“Right.” She says. “Your dress kinda reminds me of pistachio ice cream, and I mean that in a good way. Minty. Did you want to get ice cream? I know of a decent place. Obviously it won’t be as great as Scoops because it’s not made by yours truly, but I hear good things about it and it’s not that far-”

You listen to Robin ramble, and you fall into the warm familiarness of it. As much as you love the Robin from earlier, this is the Robin you fell in love with, and you wouldn’t change a damn thing about her.

You don’t have the heart to tell her that you’re actually beat, and you know how much she just wants to drive you somewhere, anywhere.

“Sure, ice cream sounds great.” You say happily.

Robin pumps her fist victoriously and you giggle at her reaction. You suddenly can’t decide if she was more excited about driving you somewhere or getting ice cream.

“By the way Buckley.” You say suddenly serious.

Robin whips her head to you, expression also turning serious at your tone.

“If you ever compare my articles of clothing to types of food again, you can say goodbye to any future driving dates.” You smirk, letting her know you’re just teasing.

Robin clutches her heart and exaggeratedly falls off the couch. You laugh loudly at her theatrics, clutching your stomach.

You leave her on the floor as she pretends to play dead, still laughing as you make your way up the stairs to change.

You can faintly hear her say “I said pistachio ice cream in a good way!” Just as you enter your room.

#1k #1.5k #Robin Buckley #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley smut #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #jmo writes

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zzzzzestforlife · 6 months

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practical daily habits and affirmations for high-energy productivity 💫

tips from a busy part-time psychology student / full-time software engineer🏃‍♀️

i was inspired by HBR's "energy crisis" checklist but i wanted something more positive and affirming 🥰 so i ripped the thing apart and put it back together with (self) love 💕

bonus tip: don't try to incorporate too many new habits at once! start with just one or two and once you find yourself doing those easily, you can add more!

Show Your Body Some Love 🤗

🛌 I regularly get at least seven to eight hours of sleep, and I often wake up feeling well rested.

I have a strict bedtime, even on the weekends, and start my night routine at least thirty minutes to an hour before.

I follow Best Zesty's night routine. 😉

🍴 I eat a healthy breakfast.

I wake up thirty minutes to an hour before my day actually needs to start so that I have time to prepare food and eat at the table/bar.

I eat fruits/veggies, carbs, protein, and take my supplements.

🏋️‍♀️ I work out enough (at least four sessions a week that are a mix of strength and cardio training).

I follow workout routines that are safe and body-positive.

I consult with a doctor or trainer if necessary.

😌 I take regular breaks during the day to truly renew and recharge, including a relaxing lunch.

I listen to my favorite music.

I go for walks in nature.

Show Your Emotions They're Valid

🧘‍♀️ I am able to let go of feeling irritable, impatient, or anxious at work, especially when work is demanding.

I take time to meditate, practice mindfulness, and/or breathwork.

I recognize that I have a distinct identity that is independent of what I create/produce.

💕 I am fully present with my family and loved ones.

I enjoy deep and frivolous conversations with my people.

I put away my devices when sharing physical space with others.

🥰 I have enough time for the activities that I most deeply enjoy.

I schedule and protect my focus time for both my work and my hobbies.

I run my life like a well-organized engineering sprint. 😉

🙏 I stop frequently enough to express my appreciation to others or to savor my accomplishments and blessings.

I write thank you notes (or text messages) for the people in my life.

I keep a gratitude journal.

Show Your Mind It Is Powerful

🌲 I am able to focus on one thing at a time, and I am not easily distracted during the day.

I use technology to my advantage with apps that help me focus.

I start every day with a to-do list I made the night or week before so that my transition between tasks (a.k.a. the black hole 🕳️) is seamless and distraction-free.

👀 I spend much of my day focusing on activities with longer-term value and high leverage, rather than reacting to immediate crises and demands.

I regularly say "no" to optional activities/tasks that I know do not serve my long-term goals.

I plan for the future to prevent crises from arising in the first place.

🤔 I take enough time for reflection, strategizing, and creative thinking.

I keep a morning pages journal.

I regularly engage in a creative hobby/collect inspiration.

🚪 I don't work overtime, even if it's just answering/reading messages.

I have a strict clock-out time and snooze my notifications on a schedule.

I schedule activities after work that help me unwind and/or think about something else.

Show Your Spirit What It's Capable Of

✨ I spend enough time at work doing what I do best and enjoy most.

I am honest with my manager/mentor about my career goals so that they can help me align my daily tasks with them.

I keep a daily log of my activities at work so that I am aware of how I'm spending my time.

💖 There are no gaps between what I say is most important to me in my life and how I actually allocate my time and energy.

I have a vision board to remind myself of what is most important.

I keep a mood tracker so I can find patterns in what makes me happy and what doesn't.

😤 My decisions are influenced by a strong, clear sense of my own purpose rather than external demands.

When making a decision, I take time to articulate my own opinion to myself before soliciting the opinions of others, which I then consider from multiple angles.

I know that we don't just "find" our purpose in life, we create it by the little things we do every day.

💝 I invest enough time and energy in making a positive difference to others.

I regularly volunteer to help others and/or set aside time to help others when they ask.

I share quality time, physical affection, helpful information, etc. with others.

feel free to add your own suggestions/thoughts in the reblogs/comments~ you got this! 💪

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hxzxrdous · 10 months

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The School for Good and Evil

Platonic Lady Lesso x Clarissa Dovey x reader

TW: None, I was in a goofy and silly mood when I wrote this

CLOSE YOUR EYES

(This gif made me cackle)

The creaking of the wooden bed filled the air as you settled in, all ready for sleep. However, your tranquility was abruptly shattered by the distinct sound of heels clicking and a cane rhythmically tapping against the floor. Before you could fully comprehend the situation, Lady Lesso burst into your dorm room unannounced. Without uttering a word, she grabbed you by the hand and pulled you with her as she walked down the hallway in silence.

Confusion laced your voice as you tried to comprehend the direction in which you were being taken. It soon became evident that your destination was the infamous Doom Room. You had heard whispers about this ominous chamber, but what had you done to deserve such punishment? Could it be your grades? "Ma'am?"

"Silence, child," Lady Lesso hissed through clenched teeth as she swung open the door to the Doom Room, promptly seating you upon a chair positioned on the elevated podium. As you surveyed your surroundings, your eyes locked onto the two chairs placed in front of you. The room itself was adorned with an array of weapons, their ominous presence sending shivers down your spine. You nervously swallowed, anticipating what awaited you.

Yet, nothing could have prepared you for what unfolded next.

The dean of the neighboring School for Good, located just across the bridge, entered the room, clutching a blanket and a bag. The evil dean coughed awkwardly, casting an assessing gaze in your direction.

"Dovey told me about a certain incident that occurred in the clearing during lunch, when she was on duty," Lady Lesso spoke, her words tinged with a mix of apprehension and concern. Her eyes roamed around you, taking in every detail.

Your eyes widened, realization dawning upon you. This was because you fainted from the lack of sleep the other day? Were both deans planning to punish you for displaying weakness?

"I'm really sorry," you blurted out, shaking your head in an attempt to convey your remorse.

Silence!" Lady Lesso snapped, her voice cutting through the air with a sharpness that demanded your immediate compliance. After a brief moment, she sighed, as if momentarily relenting. "Before you continue babbling, let me finish," she continued, her tone now carrying a touch of weariness. "Dovey informed me that prior to your arrival to this... hallowed institution, you relied on something called ASMR, on some sort of device to help you sleep every night."

Her voice softened as she spoke, revealing a rare glimpse of understanding. However, her stern demeanor quickly returned. "We are all well aware that improper sleep will lead to students not performing their best. This, in turn, increases the likelihood of the forces of Good triumphing over Evil yet another year," she explained, her words laced with a sense of gravity. Meanwhile, Professor Dovey stepped forward, presenting you with the blanket, her expression conveying a mixture of compassion and concern.

"So, let me make it clear that I am not undertaking this task for your sake," Lady Lesso declared, her voice regaining its steely resolve. "I am doing it for myself, for the sake of maintaining our standards of excellence. And... if you tell anyone, you'll win yourself a second trip to the Doom Room."

You watched in confusion as Professor Dovey retrieved a book from her bag, placing it in Lady Lesso's hands. Lady Lesso began tapping her silver-painted nails against the book's cover, displaying a touch of exasperation. "This is ridiculous. Why don't people simply read th-" she began, but her words were swiftly interrupted by Dovey. "Just do it, Leonora," Dovey interjected, her tone firm yet gentle. The good dean turned her attention back to you, offering a warm smile as she assisted you in wrapping a soft blanket around yourself. The soothing scent of lavender wafted from the fabric, instantly calming your senses. Returning her focus to the bag, Dovey delicately produced a glass slipper. "I borrowed this from Cinderella," she whispered softly. "I'm not sure about your fashion preferences, being a Never, but I believe it's quite beautiful." Dovey knelt in front of you, bringing the glass slipper closer so you could examine it more closely. "It's difficult to fully appreciate its sparkle in this dark room," Dovey murmured, redirecting your gaze to Lady Lesso, who continued tapping on the book behind Dovey. "You have a talent for this, ma'am. ASMR seems to be your secret skill," you confessed, feeling a blush color your cheeks. "Is that so?" Lady Lesso furrowed her eyebrows, momentarily taken aback, before clearing her throat. "Well, I suppose I excel at many things," she stated, lifting her head with pride and opening the book, slowly flipping through its pages. Meanwhile, the other dean settled into the second chair, tapping the glass slipper lightly. "I hope Cinderella won't be upset if it gets stained," Dovey whispered softly to herself. Carefully, she returned the slipper to the bag and repositioned her chair closer to you. "May I touch your hair, dear?" she asked, her voice gentle and kind. You pondered for a moment before nodding in agreement. Slowly, Dovey began stroking your hair, her touch gentle and soothing. The good dean's whispering voice was barely audible, but as Lady Lesso began to read from the book, you discovered that Lesso's whispered words were the one that were the epitome of calmness. Her voice had a silvery quality to it, with just the right amount of hoarseness and breathiness to suit your taste. "You can close your eyes, sweetheart. Don't resist it," Dovey whispered, her hand caressing your cheek. Soon you began to drift off to sleep when you felt being lifted up by one of them. You sleepily leaned your head on their neck.

"I can't possibly carry her up the stairs to her dorm, Leonora," Dovey whispered, her hand gently resting atop your head. "Let's take her to my chambers instead. It's just this way," Lady Lesso responded in hushed tones. Before long, you found yourself lying upon a comfortable bed, the softness enveloping you. The sound of their conversation drifted into your sleepy consciousness. "Now, where's the kiss you promised me, for doing this, Rissa?" Lady Lesso's voice carried through the hallway outside the room.

#lady lesso #lady lesso x reader #leonora lesso #leonora lesso x reader #the school for good and evil #sge #sge netflix #sge fanfiction #lady lesso x clarissa dovey #clarissa dovey #clarissa dovey x reader #professor dovey #professor dovey x reader #dovesso

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grison-in-space · 28 days

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You know, we tend to think about play centered around the boundaries and interactions of power dynamics as a kink thing, but I think that's a bit short-sighted. Perhaps it's that I have mostly taught adults—which imposes a distinct but limited power dynamic on the working relationship—but I find I use play constantly to help frustrated or shy students relax, especially when relaxing about the possibility that I am particularly upset, impatient, or judgemental about their temporary struggle. Lots of smiling, careful observation of body language—if they stiffen further they're not necessarily parsing that it's play and I need to change tactics. I often make an explicit statement like "oh no, the horror, you're learning," smile as warmly as I can project, validate the frustration and point to any clear progress I see, and then ask questions about the place where they're struggling.

Trying to use cuts more to spare dashes, but the more I think about it, the more I keep coming up with examples of boundary/hierarchy play in cases of strong working relationships between established dynamics. It's not something I only engage in from top down, either: I also offer play gestures around boundaries to people who are supervising me, if and only if I otherwise like and trust them enough to do so.

Often students will engage in mock boundary pushing at "boundaries" that they have observed that I don't give a shit about, like the time one of my students was asked to explain why his DNA signature was "found" on a broken pipette in genetics class (implied: he was being charged with breaking it as part of an exercise in interpreting DNA fingerprinting data) and he submitted a two page legal brief with fully referenced case law mock accusing the class of stealing his genetic material without a warrant. (I was delighted. I often think fondly of that student, who had been enlisted military and clearly enjoyed play mocking the "brass," but was also absolutely respectful and engaged when it actually mattered.)

I see that with my dogs, too. For example, yesterday I observed Tribble catch my eye, start briefly digging in the garden—a behavior I pointedly discourage and have for most of her life—wiggle, and then take off to race around the yard while I stomped after her and pretended to be mad until she bounced up to the door and requested to come inside. (She was almost certainly getting cold.)

It's always risky to make inferences about animal signals and especially intentionality without good falsifiable hypotheses about what is being intentionally conveyed and unpacked, so just to be specific: she wiggled using very loose body language of the kind that we usually use when playing as we made eye contact, dug until I made an exaggerated outrage face and took a step towards her, and sprinted away to zoom around the yard in a way that a nearly thirteen year old dog generally does not do unless she has a strong, motivated point to make. I was also using exaggerated play versions of outrage: mock stomping my feet with big steps with no stiffness, waving my head from side to side in a gesture I make when playing with animals, a very offended high pitched "oh!" noise I don't make when I'm actually annoyed. Play around mock offense over a mock transgressed boundary, taking delight in each other's attention.

And I mean, she and I have known each other for almost twelve years. This is the dog I accidentally trained using only my idiosyncratic body language for cues; she never bothered to listen for vocal cues until Tay tried to ask her for things with slightly different hand signals and she was bewildered. We're both pretty good at reading each other at this point.

I just think there is a strong tendency to carve out hierarchy and boundaries as Very Serious Business all the time, especially when we are thinking about ethical power dynamics. But it's not always, not even close: ethical play across boundaries should be consensual and bidirectional (even if the social hierarchy isn't entirely consensual, as with parent/child or dog/handler relationships), and if it's not it should cease. We've all seen the mortification of bosses who attempt play with subordinates who are Not Enjoying Themselves, right? You've all seen The Office?

I'm just enjoying thinking about boundaries and hierarchies in this way this morning. We (by virtue of the fact that you're interacting with me on the Anglophone Internet, anyway) live in a culture that finds hierarchy and explicitly acknowledged power dynamics really distasteful and uncomfortable, but those dynamics are still real and they absolutely exist. As someone who has some distinct scars from people who had power over me but wanted to pretend that we were peers when that was convenient, I think there's something valuable about acknowledging how much play can be held in a healthy, solid nonsexual relationship that still has power dynamics and firm boundaries.

#boundaries #hierarchies #play #relationships #social interactions

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atamascolily · 5 months

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One critique I have seen of the whole "Homura (or her double) is/becomes Walpurgisnacht" theory for WnK is that it's "too obvious and therefore won't happen". This is so funny to me because a certain degree of predictability is actually a sign of good writing--the best plot twists do not come randomly out of nowhere, they are heavily foreshadowed earlier in the work, even if this is only obvious in hindsight. Or, to quote one of my favorite pieces of writing advice ever from Kurt Vonnegut,

Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To hell with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

In other words, as the story progresses, the number of possible routes dwindles, until only one path remains. The best endings not only make sense, they are inevitable.

From this perspective, the original Madoka Magica TV series is one of the most predictable shows I have ever watched, dropping exposition with remarkable precision and clarity at steady intervals. It's like watching a chess master at work, moving the characters from square to square until suddenly--CHECKMATE!

On my first viewing, I blinked when Mami demonstrates how a grief seed purifies a soul gem in Episode 2. "Wow, that looks just like a soul gem," I said to myself. "And it powers their magic, too? That can't possibly be a coincidence. Magical girls and witches are connected in a symbiotic relationship, but it's clearly meant to be a secret, so let's see where this goes." Later on, of course, the show makes a big deal of how Sayaka is refusing to purify her grief seed and the ominous but unnamed consequences that would come of it, and it was abundantly clear to me at that point that magical girls transformed into witches when they ran out of magic, several episodes before the actual reveal.

Likewise, when Madoka didn't immediately become a magical girl after hearing Kyubey's offer in episode 2, I took this to mean the show was actually about her journey to become a magical girl (and not being a magical girl, an important distinction), and she would only make her wish in the final episode after she was fully aware of the consequences. Sayaka's narrative role was to leap headlong into her wish, and show us exactly what the downsides were--through her failures, Madoka's hesitation would not only be justified, but that knowledge would inspire her to reform the clearly corrupt magical girl system entirely (an impression supported by Kyubey's speech by the fountain where he tells Madoka she has the power to become a god).

You might think that seeing these big plot twists coming would ruin my enjoyment, but quite the contrary--it was so refreshing to feel like I was on the same page as the author and that my careful attention to detail was rewarded. Paradoxically, it made me love the show even more precisely because I could see the twists before they happened--as if I was watching the show for the second or third time already. The best plot twists deepen the experience, allowing us to fully appreciate and savor them on subsequent viewings. It's why tragedies tell us in the beginning that the hero will die; the drama and suspense are not so much in what happens, but how and why.

I mention all of this not to try to impress people with how smart I am (when it comes to predictions about the future, past performance does not guarantee future success), merely to explain why I trust my instincts when it comes to this show, because they've served me so well before. Unless Gen Urobuchi and SHAFT have completely changed their approach with Walpurgis no Kaiten, I expect every single twist to be carefully foreshadowed in advance, just like previous installments--and therefore, inherently predictable, at least in theory. Whether we currently have all of the information and/or interpret it correctly are entirely different questions, of course.

Despite its reputation for obfuscation, I have found the original PMMM anime to be remarkably straightforward in its storytelling approach, and I hope that Walpurgis no Kaiten will be no different in this regard. Thus, I see no need to second-guess myself or to assume that the simplest approach is automatically off the table in favor of something more complicated.

That said, if you don't personally care for the idea that Homura and/or her double is Walpurgisnacht, or you are skeptical it will happen, that's fine. But "it's too predictable, therefore it can't happen" is not an argument I can take seriously given my own experiences.

#puella magi madoka magica #pmmm analysis #walpurgisnacht rising #walpurgis no kaiten #madoka magica

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stellae-de-baphometis · 8 months

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An Ultimate Revise: Who Or What Is Satan?

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Okay... So I have a lot to say before I get into this post, because the original blog post I made was extremely problematic and I would like to address it, first and foremost.

My original "Who Or What Is Satan" post that I wrote was meant to be an educational and historical post, but it ended up being far from historically accurate whatsoever. It was full of errors and antisemitism, and I had absolutely no idea what I was talking about.

And so I've decided to completely rewrite and revise the entire post from scratch. It's something I've been wanting to do for a while now, because I really hate how my original post turned out and how antisemitic it was.

So without further ado, here is the revised and rewritten version of my original post, minus all the bullshit lol. Strap in, because this is gonna be a looong post! Full blog post is under the cut. ↓

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So here's a little more info and backstory on the original "Who Or What Is Satan" post, before we get into the revised version;

⚠️ - TRIGGER WARNING: Antisemitism - ⚠️ About a year ago now, I wrote a blog post of the same title under the username of @/thebaphometicforest. At the time of writing that post, I was extremely uneducated and new to Daemonolatry, and I had also been almost fully indoctrinated into a Ne0-Naz1 cult on Reddit without realising it (cough cough the fucking cesspit that is r/DemonolatryPractices cough). The blog post I wrote was full of misinformation and antisemitic propaganda, and I'm really not proud of the fact that I used to hold such antisemitic beliefs surrounding Judaism and cultural appropriation in general. I have since deleted the post, though I believe there are reblogs of it that exist, for those who wish to seek it out for further context, or whatever other reason you may need it.

I would like to take the time to sincerely apologise to the Jewish community for how blatantly ignorant and disrespectful I was in my past. There is no excuse for my antisemitism; I was just stupidly misinformed. I want it to be clear though that I never intended to purposefully discriminate against Jews, I just didn't realise how problematic my views were at the time. I wanted to clarify that distinction; But the bottom line is that the intent doesn't matter. At the end of the day, I was still a dick. It is no excuse and I take full accountability and responsibility for my past actions.

Please know that my past problematic views do not represent me anymore and I have changed and educated myself since then. And with that said, I want it to be my main goal to help dispel antisemitism, ignorance, and bigotry in occult spaces as an ally, as well as advocate for the rights and wellbeing of the Jewish community not only in occult spaces, but overall. 💙

With all of that said, it's time to set the record straight and talk about who and what Satan actually is!

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DISCLAIMER: Please keep in mind that I am not Jewish or Muslim, and therefore cannot speak from those perspectives on this subject. I understand and acknowledge that the concept of Satan originates in Judaism and have no intention to be appropriative. I'm simply just going off research and from what Jewish people in occult spaces on Tumblr have said regarding this subject. I also apologise in advance for any inaccuracies in this post. Please don't hesitate to point them out and I will correct them as soon as I can! Xx

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+: GIF Credit :+

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Satan has evolved to become a very complex character in the modern day. In fact, the very concept and idea of Satan can depend on who you ask, as there are multiple different spiritual paths that interpret Satan differently nowadays. Satan's history has also been muddied quite a lot over the years.

But what are the actual historical origins of Satan, and how did he even come to be?

༺・ The Origins Of Satan ・༻

So, where did Satan even come from?

The origins of Satan can firstly be traced back to Judaism, where Satan refers to an angel (Ha-Satan) that was initially subservient to God. It was only later that he came to be known as "The Devil" in Christianity (sometimes considered synonymous with Lucifer, a bastardised Greco-Roman god) and was referred to as an evil demon, devil, and fallen angel. Later in Islam, he came to be known as an evil spirit who went by the name of Iblis or Ash-Shaytan.

The concept and role of Satan varies drastically between Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and other belief systems which may have similar figures in their mythology. Let's further elaborate on what Satan means when it comes to these three belief systems.

Note: In the Christianity section, I have added a lot of my own interpretations and personal beliefs on the subject as I used to be a Christian as a child. However, I have not done the same with the Judaism or Islam sections as they are closed practices from what I have heard, and I feel that it is not my place to have a UPG on a closed practise, especially if I am not a part of it. Therefore, I will only be including historical info I have gathered from doing research in those parts and nothing more. I wish to remain respectful by not adding my personal input on those parts.

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+: In Judaism :+

There appears to be two main accounts of Satan in Judaism. The most well-know account is that Satan refers to an angel in the Torah named Ha-Satan (literally "The Satan") who is actually subordinate to God, rather than being an opposing force of God. His role was to test the faith of God's followers by tempting them to sin. If they resisted Ha-Satan's temptations, they were proving themselves faithful and loyal to God.

Another account comes from Satanail, the Prince of the Grigori Watcher Angels. The role of the Grigori were to descend to Earth so they could guide humans and teach them. But when they began having sex with humans and producing offspring such as the Nephilim, they were cast out of Heaven and became fallen angels. Some translations suggest that the Nephilim were a type of giants, whereas other translations suggest that they were the hybrid children of fallen angels.

Sometimes the archangel Samael is also equated with Satan, however they don't necessarily have the same functions. Samael was usually tasked with destroying sinners, whereas Ha-Satan was tasked with tempting and testing sinners.

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+: In Christianity :+

Here's where things begin to get muddy. Satan is referred to in multiple different ways in Christianity, and it really just depends on the interpretations and translations of the Christian Bible. Let's have a look at Satan's multiple titles that are mentioned.

~ The Serpent ~

Satan is considered to be synonymous with The Serpent that convinced Eve and Adam to eat fruit from the Tree Of Knowledge. In Genesis 3, the serpent claimed that if you ate the fruit, you could "be like God, knowing good and evil".

+. Genesis 3 .+ ❧ Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the LORD God had made. He said to the woman "Did God really say 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden'?" ❧ The woman said to the serpent "We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say 'You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die'." ❧ "You will not certainly die", the serpent said to the woman. "For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil". ❧ When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it.

In my interpretation, Satan brought liberation, indulgence enlightenment, wisdom, and free will to Adam and Eve through eating the fruit. He showed them that if they open their minds and were willing to learn new things, they could grow and flourish to be wiser than they once were, as well as constantly strive to be the best version of themselves.

It was actually God that brought about consequences for Eve and Adam eating the fruit from the Tree Of Knowledge, not Satan. My interpretation is that if you choose to embrace your true and best self, there are always going to be people who will not like or approve of you; But that doesn't mean that you are doing something bad (as long as you aren't hurting anyone or doing anything immoral of course, lol).

~ The Devil ~

I think everyone is aware that Satan's most well-known title that he goes by is "The Devil". Personally, I don't like to refer to Satan using this title because the word originates from the Ancient Greek word 'diabolos', meaning 'slanderer'. This implies that Satan is a liar and deceiver, which I don't personally believe. In my experience, he has always been a bringer of wisdom and truth.

Satan is said to be the "father of lies" and that he "leads the whole world astray", but I still have yet to see any evidence of him lying or leading anyone astray. The Christian Bible says that he lies, but doesn't show how he is a liar; At least not to my knowledge anyways. However, the God depicted in the Christian Bible seems to have lied about how the fruit on the Tree Of Knowledge would kill Adam and Eve... Because it didn't. It enlightened them and opened their eyes. It helped them to see the truth.

I can't really find any bible verses that suggest Satan actually lies; Only verses accusing him of being a liar. I did, however, find evidence that God lies in the Christian Bible. (Please note that this isn't me trying to be anti-Christian or anything, I'm just trying to make the point that there isn't really any evidence that Satan is deceptive in the Christian Bible. This is mainly to point out the hypocrisy of conservative/extremist forms of Christianity.) Here is an interesting verse that I found which may prove my point that God is deceptive and does in fact lie:

+. Jeremiah 4:10 .+ ❧ Then I said, "Alas, sovereign LORD! How completely you have deceived these people and Jerusalem by saying 'You will have peace', when the sword is at our throats!"

Just something to thing about lol.

~ The Dragon ~

It is when Satan is introduced as The Dragon that the idea of him falling to the Earth (presumably from Heaven) is addressed in Christianity for the first time. In the Christian Bible, Satan is described as taking the form of a giant seven-headed red dragon, donning ten horns as well as seven crowns, one atop each head. It is described that Satan is "hurled down" to the Earth, as well as his angels that serve him.

+. Quotes From Revelation 12 .+ ❧ Then another sign appeared in Heaven; An enormous red dragon with seven heads and ten horns and seven crowns on its heads. Its tail swept a third of the stars out of the sky and flung them to the Earth. ❧ Then war broke out in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in Heaven. ❧ The great dragon was hurled down - That ancient serpent called The Devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the Earth, and his angels with him.

+. Luke 10:18 .+ ❧ He replied, "I saw Satan fall like lightning from Heaven".

I personally don't really believe in angels or the Christian God, therefore I don't believe in fallen angels and I don't really buy into the divine simply being split up into "good vs evil". Instead, I believe in metaphorical fallen angels; Deities and spirits that were bastardised by Christian extremism and painted as evil, simply because they were anything other than the Christian God (e.g. Baal and Ashtoreth starting out as Canaanite deities and being demonised into the Goetian daemons that are Bael and Astaroth).

I think the whole thing of Satan being "hurled down" was most likely just a metaphor to symbolise his apparent defeat and that he had no place in Heaven, according to the Christian God.

~ The Morning Star ~

I think this is mainly where the whole idea of fallen angels came from, when Satan was conflated with The Morning Star, better known by the name of Lucifer. Funnily enough, Lucifer is never actually addressed by name in the Christian Bible; At least not that I could find. Rather, he is addressed as "morning star" and "son of the morning".

+. Isaiah 14 .+ ❧ How you have fallen from Heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the Earth, you who once laid low the nations! ❧ You said in your heart, "I will ascend to the Heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the upmost heights of Mount Zaphon. ❧ I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High." ❧ But you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit.

+. 2 Peter 1:19 .+ ❧ We also have the prophetic message as something completely reliable, and you will do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.

These verses seem to paint Lucifer as some sort of fallen angel that was jealous of God and wanted to rise above him. However, what some may not know is that Lucifer didn't even start off as an angel at all. The name "Lucifer" is Latin for light-bearer. The Greek word for this term is "Phosphorus", which is also the name of a Greco-Roman deity!

Phosphorus was the personification of the planet Venus, which appeared as the brightest "star" in the sky at dawn, hence the term "morning star". Phosphorus was the son of Aurora, the Roman goddess of the dawn, hence the term "son of the morning". So technically speaking, Lucifer and Satan may not even be the same entity. At least, not historically. The concept of Satan originated in Judaism, whereas Lucifer seems to have spawned from the bastardisation of a niche Roman god.

However, when it comes to Luciferianism, Lucifer is seen as a guide/teacher, liberator, guardian, beacon of enlightenment/ wisdom/ truth, and even sometimes the "true god" as apposed to the Christian God. I personally differentiate Lucifer from Satan to an extent in my beliefs, but more on that a little later!

IMPORTANT EDIT: A good friend of mine has since informed me that the aforementioned bible verses weren't referring to the Roman god Phosphorus. I was incorrect about this. The term Lucifer was actually a title applied to the King that ruled over Babylon at the time, most likely Nebuchadnezzar (II) the Great. The King of Babylon was compared to the planet Venus because of his power and influence in the world. He was "cast down to the earth" because of his wickedness. In this context, "Lucifer" was a physical human being; Not an angel, nor a god.

It was only until Christianity that these verses were misinterpreted (probably because of mistranslation issues, though I'm not entirely sure) and the story of the King of Babylon was twisted into the tale of an alleged angel that got his arse kicked out of Heaven for "disobeying God" or whatever lol.

You can read more about the backstory in this PDF I found that goes further into detail here.

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+: In Islam :+

The concept of Satan is also found in the Qur'an under the names of Iblis or Eblis, also known as Ash-Shaytan or Al-Shaytan. He was a djinn and the "leader of the devils" in Islam. On some accounts, Iblis actually started off as a high-ranking angel and went by the name of Azazil (not to be confused with Azazel). Iblis was assigned the role by God of eradicating disobedient and destructive inhabitants of Earth, so that they could be replaced with humans who were more obedient. But when Azazil refused to create a successor, he was punished by being cast down to Earth by God, where he then became a shaytan.

In another account, God created Iblis from the fires beneath the seventh Earth. Iblis worshipped God for thousands of years, and eventually, he ascended to the surface and continued to rise in rank until he accompanied angels in the seventh heaven.

God then created Adam from the essence of clay and breathed life and a soul into him, and ordered the angels to bow down to Adam. But Iblis refused to bow down; Being a jinn born of the essence of fire, he felt superior to Adam and refused to bow down to someone he considered to be below him. His disobedience to God and efforts to prove humans unworthy led to him being cast out of Heaven, where he earned the position of an eternal enemy of humankind.

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So with all of that said, I would now like to talk about my UPG of Satan and my personal spiritual beliefs surrounding him! :)

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+: GIF Credit :+

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༺・ What Does Satan Mean To Me? ・༻

My personal experience of Satan is that he's a very complex figure made up of many different bits and pieces from other spirits and deities. But mainly, I view Satan as being a triune godhead made up of three different beings/aspects; Lucifer, Sathanus, and Baphomet. It's kind of similar to the "Holy Trinity" in Christianity. He's a diagram I made of the "Satanic Trinity" lol.

In my UPG, I see Lucifer, Sathanus, and Baphomet as their own distinct entities, but I also see them as all being aspects of Satan as well. Think of them as being like a hydra dragon; Three distinct heads that all connect back to the same body. I also believe that other daemons can hold this title as well (Azazel, Belzebuth, Mephistopheles, and possibly many more) but I also see the term 'Satan' as just that; a title.

My best friend @sortiarus-de--naturas--daemonum has a really cool UPG regarding Satan as a title. She believes that Satan can be anyone or anything, and that it can also be a title for people who appose Christian (extremist) values. I actually really love this lol and agree with it quite a lot. ^.^

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In regards to the Satanic Trinity, the number (3) is said to historically be a sacred and magical number, revered across many different cultures and religions.

❧ In Celtic Paganism, the Earth was said to be made up of three realms/parts; Land, Sea, and Sky. ❧ In Alchemy, there were Three Primes (tria prima) that corresponded with the three aspects of human nature; Salt (body), Mercury (mind), and Sulfur (spirit). ❧ In Greco-Roman religion and Neo-Pagan religions such as Wicca, the triple goddess was a triune godhead usually made up of three different goddesses (e.g. Artemis-Selene-Hecate) and was usually also associated with the waxing, full, and waning phases of the Moon.

I view Satan in a very similar way to this. I see Sathanus and Lucifer as being almost like polar opposites, with Baphomet being in the middle of both of them.

❧ If Lucifer is Above and Sathanus is Below, then Baphomet is the middling Within and All Around. ❧ If Lucifer is the Sky (Upperworld) and Sathanus is the Land (Middleworld), then Baphomet is the Sea (Underworld) that meets and connects the two. ❧ If Lucifer is the Radiance of light and Sathanus is the Shadow of darkness, then Baphomet is the grey Quintessence in between. ❧ If Lucifer is the Sun above and Sathanus is the Earth below, then Baphomet is the Moon that middles between the two. ❧ If Lucifer is the Waxing Moon and Sathanus is the Waning Moon, then Baphomet is the Full Moon that connects the two moon phases together.

These are the correspondences I personally associate with Satan. I also have my own UPG about how Satan came to be.

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༺・ So... Who Is Satan Then? ・༻

I believe that Satan came to be through many different deities, spirits, influences, and Christian extremist paranoia throughout history. To an extent, I believe Satan to be a spirit shard of sorts. What's a spirit shard, you ask? Allow me to explain...

+: Spirit Shards :+

❧ A spirit shard is when a piece of a deity or deities breaks off and develops into its own entity that stands alone from its fountainhead deity. This is usually the result of vilifying and demonisation of gods from other religions and belief systems, primarily done by Christian extremists.

A good example of this would be the formerly mentioned Bael and Astaroth; I believe they are both spirit shards of Baal and Ashtoreth that came about because of demonisation by Christian extremists, and eventually those demonisations broke off from the fountainhead deities and became distinct daemons.

I also believe that there was some egregoric influence that aided in the creation of Satan as well. Thus, I feel that he could partly be an egregoric entity too.

+: Egregoric Entities :+

❧ An egregoric entity is a spirit, deity, or other type of entity that arises into existence from the collective thoughts, influences, and energy input of a distinct group of people.

Lord/Lady Baphomet themselves are a perfect example of an egregoric deity that arose from the collective belief in them being falsely conflated with "The Devil" by Christians. But more on their origins a little later. :)

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With all of that said, here is my take on how the three main aspects of Satan that are Lucifer, Sathanus, and Baphomet came to be! Please note that this is just my UPG and isn't meant to be presented as an absolute truth or fact; These are just my personal beliefs.

Note: In my practice, I believe in eight elements rather than just five. I believe in Fire, Air, Water, and Earth. I also believe in Spirit, but I split it into three aspects; Spirit Above (Radiance), Spirit Below (Shadow), and Spirit Within (Quintessence). Finally, I also believe in Void as an eighth element, which is represented by The Self, as you are the ultimate creator of your own personal practice. :)

∙---+ 🜍.~ Lucifer ~.🜍 +---∙

As previously mentioned, Lucifer seems to have originated from the Roman god Phosphorus, a personification of the planet Venus that appears as the brightest "star" in the sky at dawn, called the "morning star". Phosphorus also had a brother named Hesperus, who was basically the same but instead appeared at dusk instead of dawn, and was known as the "evening star". In some accounts, the two gods were later combined into one singular deity.

For whatever reason, this niche Roman god was then dragged into the Christian Bible with the coming of Christianity, thus demonising them and leading to an initial split of Lucifer as a spirit shard from Phosphorus/Hesperus.

Interpretations then spread of Lucifer apparently being some sort of "fallen angel" that was cast out of Heaven for wanting to "rise above God" out of jealousy and pride. They were then conflated with being an evil demon, possibly originating from the benevolent daimon/daemon that was initially a type of guiding spirit that provided wisdom and knowledge, and not actually having anything to do with being evil at all.

Lucifer then started being conflated with The Devil, The Serpent, The Dragon, and the entire concept of Satan in general, thus leading to Lucifer earning their place in the Satanic Trinity.

❧ Lucifer represents higher consciousness, wisdom, enlightenment, knowledge, spiritual liberation and freedom, a guiding light in the dark, expressing/embracing your true self, confidence, standing up for yourself, self-love, rebellion, and always striving to be the best version of yourself.

+: Other Correspondences :+ - Animals: ravens/crows, hawks, swans, tree snakes, doves - Colours: icy blue, sunshine yellow, snowy white, sandstone orange, rich golds/silvers/bronze - Element: Air & Radiance (Spirit Above) - Incense/Scents: sandalwood, lavender, juniper, amber, lily - Metal: Copper & Gold - Planet: Venus & Sol (The Sun)

∙---+ 🜔.~ Sathanus ~.🜔 +---∙

In my UPG, Sathanus is a complex daemon and deity that came into being via multiple sources. I believe that the concept of him spawned in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam; However, he later broke off into a spirit shard and egregoric deity, and further developed into his own entity over time.

As Christianity spread and extremist paranoia began to mount throughout the years, more and more deities were demonised and vilified in comparison to the Christian God. Deities such as the Greek Pan, the Celtic Cernunnos, and the Canaanite Moloch were all conflated with "The Devil" and falsely assumed to be demons. Overtime, attributes and pieces of these gods and many other vilified horned deities began to feed into the concept of Satan; And in an egregoric fashion, Sathanus evolved into a daemon and deity of his own.

He even has entries in several demonology grimoires that were written within the past few hundred years (e.g. Livre Des Esperitz and Liber Officiorum Spirituum).

Sathanus is primarily The Serpent, The Devil, and The Dragon. In the Garden Of Eden, he showed Eve that she wasn't bound to follow the rules of God if she didn't want to. He gave her the fruit of the Tree Of Knowledge to open her eyes and show Eve that she had freewill and could be the god of her own life. At least, that's my interpretation of it anyway lol.

Some rumours suggest that The Devil appeared at Witches' Esbats as a "great black goat with a candle between its horns". In this account, he was referred to as "The Witches' Devil".

❧ Sathanus represents worldly pleasures, power through knowledge, self-leadership, ecstasy, strength, confidence, insurgence, finding/embracing the beauty in darkness, finding hidden wisdom, nature, deliverance from limitations, courage, hedonism, and liberation through "sin" and freewill.

+: Other Correspondences :+ - Animals: dragons, snakes, goats, bats, spiders - Colours: blood red, jet black, electric blue, rich golds, rosewood / dark strawberry pink - Element: Fire, Earth, & Shadow (Spirit Below) - Incense/Scents: dragon's blood, rose, cinnamon, black opium, sandalwood - Metal: Lead & Titanium - Planet: Saturn & Terra (The Earth)

∙---+ ☿.~ Baphomet ~.☿ +---∙

A lot of people don't actually believe in Baphomet as an existing daemon or deity, but rather simply as a symbol representing universal balance; However, from my personal experiences, they definitely are a very real entity. But how did they even come into being? Let's have a look at the history of Baphomet, and how they came to be associated with Satan later on.

Baphomet was said to have been a Pagan deity or idol that was allegedly worshipped by the Knights Templar. The name Baphomet first appeared in trial transcripts for the Inquisition of the Knights Templar starting in 1307. However, there doesn't seem to be any evidence that Baphomet was worshipped by the Knights Templar. Furthermore, it has been stated that the name Baphomet was actually a bastardisation of the name Muhammad, the founder of Islam.

It wasn't until the 19th century that the well-known illustration of the "Sabbatic Goat" was drawn by Éliphas Lévi. It was comprised of a number of binary elements in order to symbolise the "equilibrium of opposites"; Half-human and half-animal, male and female, good and evil, light and darkness, above and below, mercy and justice, etc. Lévi's goal was to symbolise his own idea and concept of balance, with Baphomet being an ultimate symbol and personification of "The Absolute".

But what many may not know about Baphomet, is that Éliphas actually drew inspiration from two distinct existing deities to create his Baphomet illustration; The Greek Pan and the Egyptian Banebdjedet. Lévi equates his image with a god that went by the title of "The Goat Of Mendes" (Mendes is the Greek name for the ancient Egyptian city of Djedet). On some accounts, it is said that Pan is The Goat Of Mendes, but it is much more likely that this title referred to Banebdjedet instead, who was mistaken to have been goat-headed instead of sheep-headed.

The chief deities of the city of Mendes were the ram deity Banebdjedet (meaning "Ba of the Lord of Djedet"), who was said to be the Ba of Osiris, as well as his consort Hatmehit, the fish goddess. In my UPG, Baphomet was partially conceived through these two deities, as well as through Éliphas Lévi's illustration.

❧ Baphomet represents ultimate balance, equity, unity of the universe and all its elements, cosmic order, the cycles of life/death/rebirth, queerness, beauty, duality, love and peace, creation, liberating knowledge, embracing/becoming your true and best self, creativity, wisdom, manifestation, and nature itself.

+: Other Correspondences :+ - Animals: sheep, goats, rams, cats, sea snakes - Colours: amethyst purple, sapphire blue, stormy grey, charcoal black, oceany blue-green - Element: Water & Quintessence (Spirit Within) - Incense/Scents: oud, patchouli, sandal rose (sandalwood and rose), frankincense, myrrh - Metal: Mercury & Silver - Planet: Mercury & Luna (The Moon)

+: Divider Border Credit :+

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Please keep in mind that all of the correspondences and associations listed here are brief summaries of my UPG regarding these three deities/daemons. I will be making additional posts going into further detail regarding Satan as a triune godhead, hopefully in the near future! I'm not sure when the posts will be out though lol.

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Welp, that's pretty much it for this post! Holy shit this took me so long to write. 😭 I hope this has helped you learn more about Satan origins, and Satan as a concept as well as an entity!

I wish you well on your spiritual path. :)

༺⋆✦. Ave Satanas .✦⋆༻

-Korv

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