the lightning in this is all over the place


This is an excerpt from my post: KIEVAN RUS: PART 2 – DYING LIGHT IN A DARK AGE.

At the time of Vladimir the Great many religions filled Kievan Rus; Norse Paganism, Judaism, Islam, Christianity and many others but most importantly Slavic Paganism. Vladimir sought to strengthen the Rusians by unifying their religion under an official pantheon which may have been a blend of Slavic, Norse, Turkish, Baltic and Greek deities. Vladimir had six statues erected in Kiev dedicated to the Slavic deities: Perun, Dazhbog, Stribog, Khors, Simargl and Mokosh; several others were also raised throughout the realm. 

As you will soon read, much of the knowledge that we have of Slavic paganism comes from sources dated to a late period of Slavic history so by the time that we attained detailed writings describing their religious beliefs, Kievan Rus had already experienced deep inspiration from other faiths, Norse and Greek mythology especially. Much like the Norse, the Slavs believed in a cosmological universe in which a Great Tree connected the many realms of man, gods and spirits. Its roots sunk to the underworld and its branches reach the heavens. At the tree’s center lay the realm of man and the gods which is encircled by a vast sea that lead to the land of the dead.

^ Idols by Nicholas Roerich.

Svarog was a solar deity of fire, the forge and blacksmithing whom is often compared to the blacksmith deities like Greek Hephaestus and Roman Vulcan and solar deities like the Greek Helios and Roman Sol. According to the Hypatian Codex man fought solely with clubs and stone until Svarog’s smithing prongs came down from the heavens and granted man with the knowledge of metallurgy and blacksmithing. Part of the creation story speaks of a magical rock at the bottom of the ocean, it is believed that the goddess Živa in the form of a great duck brought it up to the surface and when Svarog had obtained or taken it from her, he struck it with his hammer. 

^ Ships on the Dnieper by Nicholas Roerich. Idols in the background.

From the sparks Semargl (god of fire) was born; from the winds created by the swinging of the hammer was birthed Stribog (god of the wind); from the loud clattering and pounding echoes created by his hammering Perun (god of lightning, thunder and storms) came forth; from his sweat sprung Veles (trickster god of the underworld). There are actually two realms mentioned as an afterlife, that of the heavens which was ruled by Svarog and was named Svarga (inspired by the Norse Asgard) and the one ruled by Chernobog or Veles named Nav (inspired by the Greek Elysian Fields). The stone was then hidden behind twelve pillars that separated the world of the living and that of the dead, within the circle of pillars the Great World Tree rose. Živa (the duck that brought the stone up) was angered at Svarog’s theft of the stone so she summoned great serpentine dragons which long warred with Svarog, Perun and other heavenly deities.

^ Svarog’s Square or Star of Rus’.

Each tribe and people favored some gods over others and each deity’s significance waned through time so there was no set head of the Slavic pantheon. Under the rule of Vladimir, Perun (“thunder” or “lightning bolt”) was made the most important deity in the Slavic pantheon. Perun was the son of Svarog and his birth is said to have been heralded by a great earthquake. Perun was chiefly the god of thunder, lightning and storms but he was also a god of war.

Perun wielded an axe or hammer that could be thrown and returned back to him like the Norse god Thor’s Mjölnir, Perun was also armed with thunderbolts (made from stone) like the Greek god Zeus and the Roman god Jupiter. Perun rode on a chariot pulled by a goat, similar to Thor’s chariot which was pulled by two goats named Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr. Oak trees are the most frequently to be struck by lighting and because of this many gods of lighting and thunder have been associated with it like Slavic Perun, Celtic Taranis, Greek Zeus and Norse Thor.

Vladimir began his reign in Kiev alone and erected idols on the hill outside his palace with porch: Perun of wood with a head of silver and mustache of gold.” – Russian Primary Chronicle.

^ The scheme of the pagan shrine discovered at the Peryn island.

Perun is also a deity of purity, order, justice, the mountains and fire. Perun is seen in in many cultures with similar names as far south as Illyria (Adriatic Coast) and Thrace (Balkans), as far north as Finland and west to the Baltics.

^ Drawings of Slavic axe amulets based on archaeological findings dating between the 11th and 12th century.

For they (the Sclaveni and the Antae) believe that one god (Perun), the maker of lightning, is alone lord of all things, and they sacrifice to him cattle and all other victims; but as for fate, they neither know it nor do they in any wise admit that it has any power among men, but whenever death stands close before them, either stricken with sickness or beginning a war, they make a promise that, if they escape, they will straightway make a sacrifice to the god in return for their life; and if they escape, they sacrifice just what they have promised, and consider that their safety has been bought with this same sacrifice.” – Excursus (“digression”) Book VII by Procopius of Caesarea.

Novgorod was a major center for Slavic paganism and within its domain was the Island of Peryn, on said island there was a great religious center known as the “Heathen Shrine” which was built in 980 CE by Vladimir’s uncle Dobrynya who ruled over Novgorod and was dedicated to Perun.

^ The shrine of Peroun on Peryn Island, a conceptual self-made reconstruction.

In the year [980] Vladimir appointed his uncle Dobrynya to rule in Novgorod. And Dobrynya came over in Novgorod. [And he] set up an idol of Perun above the Volkhov River [i.e. on a high bank], and Novgorodians offer him [Perun] sacrifices as to a deity.” – Russian Primary Chronicle.

Novgorodians, when they were pagans, had an idol called Perun, i.e. the god of fire, as Russians call fire “Perun”. A monastery is erected now in the place where the idol stood, and the monastery holds the name of the idol and is called the Perunic monastery. The deity looks like a man with a lightning- or ray-shaped flint in his hand. Day and night they kept an eternal flame burning with oak firewood as a sign of worship to the deity. And if the priest of the cult allowed the fire to go out accidentally, he was put to death.“ – Travels of the Ambassadors sent by Frederic, Duke of Holstein, to the Great Duke of Muscovy and the King of Persia, 1656.

After traversing this place, they reach the island called St. Gregory, on which island they perform their sacrifices because a gigantic oak tree stands there; and they sacrifice live cocks. Arrows, too, they peg in round about, and others bread and meat, or something of whatever each may have, as is their custom. They also throw lots regarding the cocks, whether to slaughter them, or to eat them as well, or leave them alive.” – Emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus explaining the voyage taken by the Rus from Kiev to Constantinople.

The antagonistic rival of Perun was a dragon- or serpent-like being named Veles (who also took the form of a wolf, a bear and various other animals) that lived under the Great World Tree, showing parallels with the Norse belief in a large world tree called Yggdrasill and a giant serpent that dwelled under it named Nidhogg. Veles was the lord of wild animals, domesticated ones (especially cattle), and shepherds – the last of which would pray for their lost or stray beasts to find their way back home. Another reason for their conflict was the fact that Veles was a god of shepherds, herds and cattle while Perun was that of rain and farmers. 

As a tempter and trickster deity he was known for climbing up the world tree every year and taking Perun’s cattle, wife and children; the second of which (Perun’s wife Mokosh) is spoken of in some versions of the tales as willingly going with Veles whom had been tempting her since before her and Perun were married. Mokosh was the fertility and mother goddess of the eastern Slavs, especially that of women as she was seen as their protector in everyday life and in childbirth, supporter of their works, and decider of their destiny. Mokosh was the only female deity included in Vladimir’s pantheon and his sanctuary of statues in Kiev, she was seen as a solar deity so when she was seen in the skies she was with Perun and when the sun sets she is with Veles.

^ The modern statue of Veles on Velíz mountain, Czech Republic.

Perun would pursue Veles in response for him taking Mokosh from him, all the while attempting to strike Veles with thunderbolts. As Veles would hide in order to escape Perun’s thunderbolts, places or things struck by lightning were believed to have been where Veles was concealing himself. Storms in the heavens were believed to have signified that the two were in conflict with one another and spring was thought to convey that Perun had defeated Veles and chased him back to the underworld.

Veles was the reaper of souls and lord of the underworld; the underworld he ruled over was a paradise, a vast expanse of lush green pasture, plains and meadows where the deceased were tasked with watching over his herds – this paradise is believed to have been inspired by the Greek paradise referred to as Elysium or the Elysian Fields. Veles punished and caused diseases to those whom break oaths (similar to Norse Nidhogg) and, although Veles is often seen as a malevolent being, Veles and Perun worked more in a yin and yang-like capacity but with the influx of Christianity Veles was later demonized and compared to the Devil.

Veles was also a patron of musicians, wealth and commerce; the last of which is evidenced by the fact that statues of him were often stationed in marketplaces and that treaties, agreements, and legal documents were authorized by invoking his name and declaring an oath to him: 

Thus the Emperors Leo and Alexander made peace with Oleg, and after agreeing upon the tribute and mutually binding themselves by oath, they kissed the cross, and invited Oleg and his men to swear an oath likewise. According to the religion of the Russes, the latter swore by their weapons and by their god Perun (god of thunder and lightning), as well as by Volos, the god of cattle, and thus confirmed the treaty.” – Russian Primary Chronicle, Oleg’s Rus–Byzantine War (907).

Similar to many other cultures, the Slavs too believed that during winter the spirit world and that of the living were closest to one another. The Slavs celebrated this moment through an event called ‘Velja Noc (Great Night)’ which was the last day of the year and the first of the new one. The spirits of the deceased were allowed to leave the underworld and visit their living relatives; they would be welcomed into the households of said relatives and given gifts. Like Halloween, people would dress up in costumes consisting of masks and coats of wool (a physical characteristic of Veles). These participants would then go from village to village singing songs and, mimicking the actions of the spirits, they would be welcomed by the inhabitants of the households they visited and were given gifts in exchange for good fortunate in the new year.

On the ‘Velja Noc (Great Night)’ Perun’s twin offspring named Jarovit (god of spring, vegetation and fertility) and Morana (goddess of winter, the moon and death) were born, Veles took Jarilo to the underworld where he raised him. When he first set foot back on the realm of the living he met his twin sister Morana, this return is celebrated by a springtime festival. Jarovit’s spring festival was celebrated by parades of caroling young people carrying lush leafy branches, flowers and straw dolls; these young celebrators would visit households where they would bless the inhabitants. The youthful participants and the thriving vegetation all symbolized life and fertility while the symbolism of winter (i.e. Morana) dying was enacted by their carrying of straw dolls which they would tear apart, burn and then throw into a body of water (since the afterlife was beyond the sea).

The marriage between Jarovit (god of spring, vegetation and fertility) and Morana (goddess of winter, the moon and death) would mark summer and would be celebrated through a festival which included feasts, drinking, dancing, bonfires (and the act of jumping over them), girls making wreaths of fern and flowers (which they would let flow down the river and foretell their marrying), ritual bathing as symbols of purification and maybe even nude bathing and orgies (though the latter are argued to be propaganda) – this is when harvest was at its peak.

The union of the two (Jarovit and Morana) was seen as a peaceful end to the conflicts between Perun and Veles since their two “children” were romantically involved. In the end Jarovit is killed for being unfaithful to Morana and in death he returns to the underworld, his death however is just a symbol for the end of the warmer seasons and harvest time when the crops are cut down and stored. Upon Jarovit’s death the world falls into a cold, infertile and dying state (autumn and winter) but he would return to the world of the living (bringing back spring) and eventually reconcile with her (summer) – this is how they explained the changing of the seasons.

^ Effigy of Morana, Czech Republic.

Chernobog, meaning the “Black God”, was the god of darkness, curses, decay, and woeas well as a lord of the underworld. Chernobog was mostly worshiped by the Western Slavs whom believed that he brought on the demise of the sun by bringing forth darkness and shortening the days. Chernobog was also believed to have been responsible for the frost and frigid chill, his servants were wolves which heralded snowstorms and bears which foreshadowed blizzards. Because of his many attributes, Chernobog was associated with the shortest day and longest night of the year (Winter Solstice). This night was referred to as Korocun and was celebrated by having feasts which the deceased could take part in and by lighting fires in burial sites so the deceased could be kept warm.

The Slavs, too, have a peculiar custom. At their feasts and carousals they pass about a bowl over which they utter words, I should not say of consecration but of execration (curses), in the name of the gods — of the good one, as well as of the bad one — professing that all propitious fortune is arranged by the good god, adverse, by the bad god. Hence, also, in their language they call this god of woe Diabol, or Zcerneboch, that is, the black god.” – The Chronicle of the Slavs by Helmold, Priest of Bosau.

The concept of a good and evil deity was foreign to the Slavs who believed in duality so it is believed that those concepts were brought to them by the nomads of the steppe and the Islamic nations which were both influenced by Iranian cultures (Persian and Scytho-Sarmatian) and religion (Zoroastrianism). Some of the Slavic deities are believed to have come to them this way. One of these deities, which was also incorporated into Vladimir’s pantheon, was Simargl. Simargl was a Slavic deity that is believed to have been inspired by the Iranian Simurgh, both were griffon-like mythological creatures with the body of a dog. 

The Iranian Simurgh was a very popular artistic symbol found throughout the Middle East; a giant and powerful creature with feathers which had miraculous healing properties (like a phoenix) and, if a feather is burned, Simargl could be summoned. The Simargl was the guardian of the Tree of Life and when Simurgh flew or shook its wings the tree’s seeds would disperse and pollinate the earth; these seeds give rise to all of the world’s plants. The Simurgh lived for 1700 years and attained vast knowledge of the world which he would bestow upon the worthy. The Simurgh was similar to the more commonly known phoenix which would perish into a magnificent fire and be reborn from the ashes.

^ The Sassanid Persian Empire’s Royal Symbol.was the Simurgh.

According to ‘The Conference of the Birds’ (a Sufi epic poem), written by the great Sufi poet Farīd ud-Dīn Attar of Nishapur, the birds of world sought to find a great bird to lead them spiritually (sheik) but are told that they already had one, the Simurgh.

The world’s birds gathered for their conference And said: “Our constitution makes no sense. All nations in the world require a king; How is it we alone have no such thing? Only a kingdom can be justly run; We need a king and must inquire for one.”” – The Conference of the Birds.

We have a king; beyond Kaf’s mountain peak. The Simorgh lives, the sovereign whom you seek, And He is always near to us, though we Live far from His transcendent majesty. A hundred thousand veils of dark and light Withdraw His presence from our mortal sight, And in both worlds no being shares the throne That marks the Simorgh’s power and His alone – He reigns in undisturbed omnipotence, Bathed in the light of His magnificence – No mind, no intellect can penetrate The mystery of his unending state: How many countless hundred thousands pray  For patience and true knowledge of the Way That leads to Him whom reason cannot claim,  Nor mortal purity describe or name; There soul and mind bewildered miss the mark And, faced by Him, like dazzled eyes, are dark – No sage could understand His perfect grace,  Nor seer discern the beauty of His face. His creatures strive to find a path to Him, Deluded by each new, deceitful whim,” – The Conference of the Birds.

Each of the birds symbolized a human fault or flaw which keeps man from reaching enlightenment. 

How many search for Him whose heads are sent  Like polo-balls in some great tournament From side to giddy side – how many cries,  How many countless groans assail the skies! Do not imagine that the Way is short; Vast seas and deserts lie before His court. Consider carefully before you start; The journey asks of you a lion’s heart. The road is long, the sea is deep – one flies, First buffeted by joy and then by sighs; If you desire this quest, give up your soul And make our sovereign’s court your only goal.” – The Conference of the Birds.

But when they pondered on the journey’s length, They hesitated; their ambitious strength Dissolved: each bird, according to his kind, Felt flattered but reluctantly declined.” – The Conference of the Birds.

^ Excerpt of the Imperial Coat of Arms of Iran under the Pahlavi Dynasty, used from 1925 to 1979.

The nightingale stays for love, the parrot has no interest in anything but its own beauty immortality, the peacock sought only paradise, the duck chose to remain in the land where waters flowed, the partridge chose his home in the hills and material wealth (jewels and gems), the great Homa bird (also phoenix-like) chooses vanity (if his shadow falls upon someone, it foreshadows their future as a king), the hawk for the pride in the high position he holds in the king’s court, the heron longs for the oceans which he can never delve deep into, the owl sought the shelter of ruins and their buried treasures, and the finch is fearful. To reach the Simurgh the birds had to traverse over seven valleys which were hurdles man must come to grips with like the overall detachment from desires and the relinquishing of pride, vanity, pride, greed, lust, love, etc.

The other birds in turn received their chance To show off their loquacious ignorance. All made excuses – floods of foolish words Flowed from these babbling, rumor-loving birds. Forgive me, reader, if I do not say All these excuses to avoid the Way; But in an incoherent rush they came, And all were inappropriate and lame. How could they gain the Simorgh? Such a goal Belongs to those who discipline the soul. The hoopoe counselled them: “The world holds few As worthy of the Simorgh’s throne as you, But you must empty this first glass; the wine That follows it is love’s devoted sign. If petty problems keep you back – or none – How will you seek the treasures of the sun? In drops you lose yourselves, yet you must dive Through untold fathoms and remain alive. This is no journey for the indolent – Our quest is Truth itself, not just its scent!” – The Conference of the Birds.

In the end only thirty birds made it to the Simurgh’s domain but the legendary creature was nowhere to be found, just a lake. As they waited they eventually peered into the lake’s reflection and saw that the answer they sought was within them; that they are each individually and collectively the Simurgh. Coming to this conclusion the thirty birds had reached enlightenment then merged and became a Simurgh. As a sly act of word-play the word Simurgh was replaced by the author with the word ‘Simorgh’, meaning “thirty birds”.

^ A Sassanid silver plate dated to the 7th or 8th century CE which depicts Simurgh.

The Simurgh is said to have devoured all that were before it, leading to the extinction of many species to the extent that it is believed to have caused its own extinction. Simargl was chained to the star Polaris (part of the constellation known as Ursa Minor, “Little Bear”). There were three goddesses referred to as the Zorya; the Zorya of the Morning Star (Zorya Utrennyaya) was prayed to in the morning and so she was a symbol of light, renewal, cleansing, exorcism, positivity, hope, etc.  She opens the gates of Dazbog’s palace so that he could ride the chariot of the sun across the sky, the Zorya of the Evening Star (Zorya Vechernyaya) closes the gates of Dazbog’s palace at night so the sun could set. Another sometimes states stage was that every night the sun would die and be resurrected by the Midnight Star (Zorya Polunochnaya). 

The chief task of the Zoryas was to keep watch over Simargl and prevent him from breaking his chains, it was believed that if Simargl was ever able to escape he would devour the constellation of Ursa Minor and the world would end. In many of these Slavic tales the Zorya either do not include the Midnight Star or the separate entities are actually one sole deity with contrasting attributes.

The Leshy (or Leshii) is a forest spirit and a trickster, his appearance is that of a man with a pointy-head and lacking eyebrows, eyelashes and a right ear. Though he is rarely seen, he can be heard laughing, singing and whistling in the forests. His height varies – while amidst the trees he is just as tall and when out in the open he shrinks to the height of grass. The Leshy is usually compared to the many other spirit beings like the elves of Germanic paganism, fairies of Celtic paganism and the Jogah of the Native American Iroquois.

The Leshy was known as both a protector of wildlife and also as the one that grants hunters game, later as lifestyles changed he became associated more so with livestock and offerings were given to him for the return pf those that wandered off. They had other counterparts like the polevoy (polevoi. female, poludnitsa) fertility field spirits that appeared at noon and was black as dirt with hair made of grass; the vodyanoy (vodianoi) were malicious water spirits that lived along rivers and swamps, they were known for luring and then drowning their victims. 

They reverence, however, both rivers and nymphs and some other spirits, and they sacrifice to all these also, and they make their divinations in connection with these sacrifices.” – Excursus (“digression”) Book VII by Procopius of Caesarea

In 1848 an ancient limestone monolith found in (then) Liczkowce, Poland (now Lychkivtsi, Ukraine) during a drought that dried up the Zbruch River. The monolith was dated to the 9th century CE, making it one of the very few artifacts found which related to pre-Christian Slavic religion. The so called ‘Zbruch Idol’ or the ‘Światowid ze Zbrucza’ (“Sviatovid/World-seer – of Zbruch”) curiously dates to around the time where Vladimir the Great was converting (at times by force) Kievan Rus into Orthodox Christianity, a period in which many altars were destroyed and idols were disposed of in rivers (like that of Perun). The Zbruch Idol stood 8.8 feet (2.67 meters) tall (although some believe that it may have had an additional lower portion which is missing).

^ Zbruch Idol, Kraków Archaeological Museum.

The three horizontal segments are believed to be symbolic of the three worlds: the underworld at the bottom, our world in the middle and the world of the gods on top. The four idols on the top of the pillar may have been symbolic of the four seasons: the male holding nothing being winter, the female with a ring or bracelet being spring, the male with a drinking horn being summer and the female with the sword and horse being autumn. Boris Rybakov (author of ‘Paganism of Ancient Rus’) identifies the bottom figure which is holding up the others is an Atlas-like fashion with Veles, god of the underworld which also sports a mustache. 

Boris Rybakov also asserts that above Veles the four faces of the pillar represent four great Slavic deities: the goddess Mokosh (women and fertility) with the drinking horn and a child, the goddess Lada (youth, love and beauty) holding a ring or bracelet, the chief god Perun (weaponry, warfare) with the sword and horse and Dazbog (Solar deity) holding nothing but featuring a sun wheel. Many believe that the Zbruch Idol does not represent four separate deities but instead depicts the four headed god of war, fertility and abundance known as Svetovid as he was identified with swords, drinking horns, horses and the sun– all of which are shown on the Zbruch Idol. Another theory offered by Henryk Łowmiański (Polish historian) is that the Zbruch Idol is not Slavic at all being that Slavic religious artifacts weren’t made of stone but made mainly of wood.

^ Presentation of the reliefs adorning each side of the bałwan of Zbrucz carving.

If there are any errors please privately inbox me so I can update it. As always, if you’d like to read or learn about any specific historical subjects just let me know what they are and I will take note of them.

See Also:

  • KIEVAN RUS: PART 1 – NORTHERN ENIGMA OF THE MIDDLE AGES:  In this post I will be covering the early portion of the medieval realm known as Kievan Rus (pronounced ‘Roos’); a multiethnic and cultural realm incorporating the Norse, Slavs, Turks, Balts and Finno-Ugrians. A realm centered around the many rivers that were riddled throughout its domains and led them to the riches of the Byzantine Empire, Silverland (Islamic Middle East) and the Baltic Sea. The culture, battle tactics and armaments of the ancient Slavs are addressed as well as the Druzhina (personal bodyguards and standing army). Also mentioned are some of the conflicts the Rus had with one another, the Greeks (Byzantine Empire), Bulgarians and Turkish steppe nomads. 
  • KIEVAN RUS: PART 2 – DYING LIGHT IN A DARK AGE: In this post I will cover some of the civil wars, wars of succession and familicides that plagued Kievan Rus; their peak under leaders like Vladimir the Great (who unified the Rus and made Orthodox Christianity their official religion) and Yaroslav the Wise (while Europe was in a dark age, he made Kievan Rus a beacon of knowledge, literacy, trade and faith); Kievan Rus’ shattering into various feuding states and their clash against the Mongols. The Chernye Klobuki (Turkish mercenaries) and the Varangian Guard (Norse, Slavic, Germanic, etc.) are also noted; the latter were warriors employed by the Byzantine Empire to act as the Emperor’s trusted personal guard and on occasion they acted as pirate hunters, policemen, jailers, prison guards, torturers and interrogators.
First Time For Everything

A/N: SO SORRY FOR THE LACK OF POSTS! Been so busy lately!

Character: Harry

Warning(s): Hickeys, nothing explicit. Won’t consider it hardcore smut, but it does have, umm. slightly sexual elements.

(GIF used is not mine; if you know who it belongs to do let me know!)

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Cassian x Reader, Part 1

Title: Whatever It Takes / AO3 
Part 2: tumblr
Part 3: tumblr
Length: 7.5k
Series rating: M for language and sexual content (contains some torture)
Summary: Reader and Cassian have kept their relationship a secret but when Reader is captured and tortured by the Empire, it’s obvious to all of Yavin 4 that Cassian will stop at nothing to get her back.
Author’s Note: A lovely anon requested this incredible idea and I immediately fell head over heels in love with it. Starts out pretty angsty but there will be fluff to make everything better, promise. :) Happy reading!! XOXO
Masterlist / WIP List 

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What About This One?

Peter Pan x Reader.

Most marks and scars described are my own. Most, not all. 

Warnings: Mentions of self harm, injury and semi-graphic descriptions.


It was a warm night on Neverland so peter and I decided to sleep on the beach, on the far side of the island, away from the other lost boys.

We both wore our swimwear, him in dark grey shorts and me in similar shorts (but shorter;)) and a strapless crop top.

He was sliding his fingers lightly over my legs and hips as it was too hot to lay closely, this was our only contact.

His fingers stopped and traced around a faint brown smudge on the back of my calf.

  “What’s this?” He asked.

  “It’s a birth mark,” I said quietly without opening my eyes, knowing what he’d found.

He moved his hand a little higher and landed on the scar below my knee.

  “And this?” he traced a circle around the mark. “How’d you get this?”

  “I smashed my leg on a door hinge that was sticking out when I was little,” I opened my eyes and watched him look over the rest of the exposed places of my body.

He took my hand and looked at the scar on my knuckle.

  “What about this one?” he ran his thumb over it and kissed it lightly.

  “I stacked on a motorbike and ripped all the skin off. My bone was visible and everything,” I giggled a little.

His other hand trailed over the long jagged, Lightning shaped dents running up over my hips.

Originally posted by bemylightshadow

  “What are these?” he asked following the trail up either side of my belly button, to around my ribs, and up the outer sides on my breasts.

  “My stretch marks?” I questioned. “Don’t you know what they are?”

He shook his head, and I could see the curiosity in his eyes.

  “They’re because I grew quicker than my skin,” I explained. I rolled over and showed him the others on my lower back, and behind my arms. “My skin wasn’t stretchy enough when I was growing, so it tore a little on the surface,”

  “Did it hurt?” he stopped tracing the marks and splayed his hand out over my hip.

  “No,” I shook my head. “I don’t feel them. I don’t even know when they first appeared,”

  “Hmm,” he studied all the marks and scars along my body until he landed on a dent in my hair line, above my left eye.

  “What about this one?” he asked again, sliding his finger over the dip.

  “I don’t know if you want to hear about that one,” I giggled lightly. “It’s not the nicest or most pleasant story,”

  “Why?” he tucked my hair behind my ear, never taking his eyes from the scar on my head.

  “Because It happened when I was born,” I put my hand to my head and remembered what my mother had told me.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “I got stuck,” I said bluntly.

  “What do you mean?” he leaned back and rested his head on his hand as he looked at me.

  “When I was born,” I continued. “I came out with my head tilted and got stuck. The doctor had to use these things called forceps to pull me out. On side of them was here,” I pointed to the dent in my hairline. “And the other side of them was behind my ear,”

  “So you’ve been difficult literally since the day you were born?” he teased.

  “Shut up,” I pushed him back.

 “You have so many interesting scars and marks,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve battled pirates and adventure seekers and fought lost boys in training, and I don’t have as many,”

I sat up and looked at him. “They’re not all stories of fighting or adventurous injury,”

  “What do you mean?” he sat up too and took my hands.

  “Just that- nothing don’t worry,” I pulled my hand hands away but he held tightly.

He rubbed his thumbs over the faded lines in my wrists. Not many and not easily seen, but he found them.

  “What about these?” he asked.

  “I don’t remember,” I lied, but he saw right through me. I saw it in his eyes as it clicked in his head.

He pulled me to him and held my softly against his chest. He nuzzled his face into my hair and his hot breath made my already dewy skin tingle.

  “I don’t know what brought you to do that to yourself, and I won’t pry if it will upset you,” he mumbled into my neck. “But don’t you ever, ever do that again,”

I didn’t say anything but i nodded and wrapped my arms around his torso.

  “You shouldn’t create your own scars,” he said.

Relax, It’s Just The Flu


Pairing: Theo x Reader

Summary: Can I request a Theo imagine? Where the reader is sick with the flu and Melissa suggests she go to the hospital to get checked out and Theo’s all protective and cute?? Very fluffy(: Your Theo imagines are my absolute favorite!

Another dry, exasperated cough escaped your mouth. It was the tenth one today. Having the flu sucked, it wasn’t ideal, especially with exam season coming just around the corner.

You were at Scott’s place with the pack, it was meant to be a productive study session. But instead it turned into supernatural talk. The only ones in the house currently were you and Theo. Scott along with Lydia and Malia went to get food and Stiles had some errand to run.

Coughing again, Theo rubbed your back and gave you a glass of water.

“Thanks babe”, you took a sip and let out a deep breath.

“Do you need anything else?”, he asked, sitting down beside you. Shaking your head, all you wanted was this flu to pass. And if you drank enough water, ate foods that are known to fight off colds, hopefully it would pass quicker.

Melissa walked in the door and greeted the both of you. “Hey guys, would you tell Scott when he comes back that I’m on the late night shift?”. She walked up the stairs and came back minutes later, looking refreshed.

Just as Melissa reached the door, you had a mini coughing fit that just wouldn’t stop. Theo immediately grabbed the glass of water, and you drank all of it. Melissa turned back around. “If you want Y/N, I can take you to the hospital to get checked out?”. She suggested.

That automatically sent alarm bells ringing in Theo’s head, he stood up lightning fast as you too got up. “If it’s just the flu then why does she need to go to the hospital?”. Theo stood beside you.

Grabbing the coat draped over the chair. “Relax Theo, I’m just going to get checked out and hopefully get prescribed some medication to help fight off this cold”. You placed a comforting hand on his arm, but even that wasn’t soothing his worries.

Melissa was waiting for you at the front door, walking towards her, Theo jogged over. “I’m coming with you”.

“I’ll give the two of you some privacy, come out to the car whenever you’re ready to go”. Melissa let the door shut on her way out. Theo stood right in front his protective mode switched on.

“Theo, you have nothing to be worried about. Beside I was going to go to the doctors anyway, to see if they can give me something to get rid of this cold faster”. Even after hearing that Theo still wasn’t stepping aside.

Instead he leaned over to grab his own jacket. “You telling me to not be worried, doesn’t make me any less worried. If you’re going to the hospital for whatever reason then I’m going with you”.

Opening your mouth to protest he placed his finger over it. “No if’s or but’s about it. My girl is sick and I’m here to take care of you. If going to the hospital is what you want, then that’s where we are headed”.

Taking your hand in his, Theo scribbled a note to Scott and turned off the lights. The entire car ride to the hospital and getting checked out by the doctor Theo was there holding your hand through all of it.

The doctor hadn’t given any medication but prescribed lots of rest, plenty of fluids like water or soup and recommended a nice hot bath or shower. The moment Theo brought you back home, he carried you to bed because he didn’t want you to stress yourself out. Put all the things that you needed close by, ran a hot bath filled with your favourite bath oils, candles and scents.

All rugged up in pj’s and the bed sheets, Theo held you close despite many stubborn warnings from you that he’d also get sick. But he didn’t listen nor did he seem to mind.

“Theo you’re-”

He cut you off for the second time today and stretched out his legs. “Baby, if you tell me one more time that I’m going to get sick, I’ll kiss you”.

Gasping, you tilted your head to get a better view. “You wouldn’t dare?”

“Wanna bet?”, he smirked and leaned in super close to your lips.

Pulling further away, Theo just inched his lips closer and closer. “Theo I’m being serious, I don’t want you to get sick”.

Before you had time tor register Theo had already kissed you. “Babygirl, even if I do it’s worth it. Besides I’ve missed kissing you”. He cheekily added, smacking his chest you snuggled into his embrace more.

“If you get sick, don’t come complaining to me”. You heard a faint chuckle and pretty soon after feel asleep.

One week later

The flu you had was now gone and you were able to sit down and properly study for exams. As you were reviewing your English paper, your phone buzzed loudly on the wooden desk.

Babe, I’m sick :( - Theo

He attached a photo of him in bed frowning. You couldn’t help but laugh. Closing the books scattered on the desk, you grabbed your keys and headed on over to Theo’s place.

Arriving at his house, you made your way up to his room. Opening the door, Theo was curled up in the sheets with a box of tissues and a huge bottle of water on his bedside table.

“I think this is the part I say I told you so”, you smiled and took off your coat.
Theo poked his tongue out, “You can gloat later. But first come and give me cuddles”. Climbing into bed, you settled underneath the covers with him. “Oh, I’m definitely going to need you to draw me a bath”, he winked which caused you to shake your head.

“Even when you’re sick, you still manage to somehow be a cocky ass”.

Theo wrapped his strong arms around your waist. “Yeah, but you secretly love it”

Grinning wide, you did secretly love it. And there was no place else you’d rather be then here, looking after your idiotic but still very lovable boyfriend.

A Very Dirty Way to Get Clean

He’d been reluctant to let her go get in the shower, holding her against him in bed and sniffing at her until she shrieked with laughter — “I don’t wanna wash us off,” he’d said between comically loud inhales, “we smell so good all mixed together!”

Until finally she’d said, gasping and pushing at him between giggles, “Sex sweat — stop that! — is a renewable resource! We can make a new batch tonight!”

Relief flooded his veins like the warmth of a good bourbon and he realized he’d been afraid on some weird, deep level that this had been a lightning strike, a spectacular one-off event that she’d calmly get over and move past. But reassured by her assumption of there being a “tonight” together, he finally agreed that the sooner they got to work, the sooner they could come home — to his place, her place, the fucking moon, like it mattered — and lose themselves in each other again.

But still, unable to help himself, he tried another gambit: “How bout we shower together, to save some time?”

She turned, naked, in the doorway, her eyebrow at its highest altitude: “Oh yes, no doubt my breasts will get extremely clean. But there’s no way that saves us any time.”  

He wasn’t sure if what was on his face looked more like a grin or a leer, but whatever it was, made her laugh again. “I promise, Scully — swear to Chthulu —” he lifted a two-fingered salute in a gesture that brought a blush to her cheeks — “I will not slow you down.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I don't care about what's going to happen to Touka she has been so irrelevant to the manga thus far and most of her scenes rely on nostalgia.

She literally just broke into Cochlea to help save Hinami last arc. Everyone else probably would have been cannon fodder if she didn’t shoot lightning all over the joint and fend off 2 Special Class Investigators.

Sure she hasn’t been around much in :re and she’s back at the cafe communications for this arc but already has multiple plot points set up with her character for afterwards. Yoriko trying to find her. Once Akira wakes up, a confrontation between Mado, Rabbit and Hinami which has been an ongoing plot thread with dropped hints for … over 200 chapters? Whatever she wants to talk to Kaneki about. The shit going down with Mutsuki and the fact that Mutsuki suspects (or has already investigated) :re as Kaneki’s hiding place.

If you think she’s irrelevant that’s your own fault for dismissing what’s been set up.

Stiles- I’ll Always Want This

Request-  Hello, can I request a imagine where the reader is Scott’s human little sister (15 years) and hunter kidnap her and torture her to get information out of Scott so the whole pack tries to find her.

A/N- So I kind of did my own thing with this, but I hope you like it! Sorry I’ve been so inactive guys, I’ve been catching up on a lot of things now that I have some free time. Enjoy!

You pulled back the blinds of your living room window, watching as your brother Scott’s dirtbike disappeared down the street. The neighborhood was dark for a few brief seconds after he rounded the corner, but soon a pair of headlights was shining up your driveway.
You broke into a grin and pulled open the door, and slipped out into the warm summer air. The lights were so bright in your eyes that you couldn’t see his face when he hopped out of the car, but the familiar silhouette of the jeep told you that Stiles was there, and he was there for you.
He met you halfway after you bounded down the steps, and tugged you close to him. “Scott’s gone?”
You nodded, and his lips quirked up. Scott wasn’t there to see him lean in and press his lips to yours, but Stiles knew that if he had been, he would kill him. Especially considering the way he was kissing you, which was not church, child, or brother appropriate.
Scott knew you two had always been close, he just didn’t know exactly how close. It hadn’t been going on for a long time, and it all started after Stiles came back from the Wild Hunt, but you knew Scott would be upset either way.
Stiles wasn’t sure what it was about being forgotten that had changed his perspective, but he did know that everything was different. He was getting older and he was growing, but so were you. You were no longer just Scott’s baby sister. You were strong, and you were beautiful, and Stiles couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized how he felt before.
You had been a constant in his life ever since he met Scott, and the thought of you forgetting him had sent him into a panic, especially considering you had been with him the night he disappeared. The way you had thrown yourself into his arms when he got back was just enough to seal the deal for him, and make him realize that he didn’t have anything to lose by telling you how he felt.
There was nothing you could do but kiss him when he confessed, and while you felt the same way about each other, you both agreed that you had to keep it a secret from Scott. Your brother was protective, and Stiles was afraid that it would destroy their friendship. After everything they had been through together, you agreed that couldn’t happen.
Maybe meeting him in secret when Scott left the house was a little sneaky, but you couldn’t just tell your brother the truth. He would kill you, and then he would kill Stiles, and then none of you would be happy. It was much better-and safer-for you and Stiles to keep your relationship a secret. After all, what Scott didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
When you finally pulled away from Stiles in the driveway, he was wearing a goofy smile on his face. “So where are we going tonight?”
“I was thinking I’d surprise you,” he told you.
You smiled. “Okay, can I have a hint?”
Stiles thought for a minute. “We’ll have the place all to ourselves.”
You raised your eyebrows. “You’re not planning on taking me out to the woods and murdering me are you?”
Stiles gave a sigh of exasperation. “Y/n, come on, you’re ruining the surprise. You can’t do that.”
You rolled your eyes, and Stiles grinned. “Come on. You’re too cute to murder. Besides, I’m pretty sure you could kick my ass anyway. You’d probably end up dumping my body in the woods.”
“You always say the sweetest things, Stiles.”
“Come on, Smartass,” he told you with a roll of his eyes. “I’m about to blow your mind.”
You laughed and followed him to the jeep. “We’ll see.”

You watched the trees blur past you in the darkness as you stared out the window of the jeep. Stiles gave your hand a squeeze, and you glanced back at him.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’m just thinking.”
“About what?” he asked.
“Just…you guys leaving, and my senior year.”
“It’s not as bad as it seems,” Stiles assured you. “I mean, at least you probably won’t have your memories erased again. Lightning never strikes twice in the same place and all that.”
You scoffed, and muttered “It does in Beacon Hills.”
Stiles gave your hand another comforting squeeze. “It’ll be alright. I know for a fact you can take care of yourself. You don’t need me.”
You looked over at him, meeting his brown eyes. “I think we’ve already agreed that I do.”
Stiles opened his mouth to reply, but a pair of headlights caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “Huh.”
“What?” you questioned, turning around in your seat.
“Just that car behind us,” he told you. “No one really comes here. Like ever.”
“Well, we’re out here,” you said, looking back through the windshield at the winding back road.
A dark car was following behind you, but it was impossible to tell the color on the dimly lit backroad. You noticed it was keeping its distance, but something about it set Stiles on edge.
“Well, yeah, but I’m surprising you with the best date ever.”
“Maybe they’re doing that too.”
“I just didn’t think many people knew about this place,” he said casually, although you could hear the suspicious undertone in his voice.
“Stiles,” you said softly. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”
He swallowed. “I know. It’s just…I just…”
“It’s hard not to be worried,” you agreed. “After everything that happened, I totally get that.”
“I’m ruining this date, aren’t I?” he asked with a frown.
“No,” you promised him. “You’re not. But I want you to know that tonight is our night. There’s no Scott, no supernatural disasters…just you and me.”
Stiles smiled softly. “I like the sound of that.”
You drove for a few more minutes, and then Stiles took a turn down an even smaller dirt road. As the jeep bounced across the dirt, that car that had been behind you continued down the road and disappeared from sight. You looked over at Stiles.
“See? They’re probably just going camping or something.”
You watched as the tension disappeared from his shoulders, and his grip on the steering wheel loosened. “Yeah.”
He drove down the road for what felt like forever, the radio crackling peacefully between you. It might have seemed strange to be comforted by the noise of a police radio, but the sound reminded you of Stiles, and every moment you had shared in the jeep. It was a sound that told you that, even if it was just for the moment, everything was okay.
Stiles finally turned the wheel and pulled to a stop of the middle of a field. It was a small clearing, and you were a little confused as to why he had just stopped in an empty field, but when you got out of the car, you gasped.
Stiles ran around the jeep, and pulled open the door for you, and as your feet hit the grass, the view alone was enough to cause your sharp intake of breath. Hundreds of stars were shining above you, clear as the light of day.
“Do you like it?” Stiles asked softly.
“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.
“My mom used to take me out here whenever I had a bad day. We’d lay on top of the jeep, and she’d tell me all the stories of how the stars got their names.”
“Can we?” you asked thickly, glancing over at the jeep.
Stiles grinned. “Of course.”
He climbed onto the hood and held out a hand to help you up, and when you took it, he yanked you up next to him. You followed him onto the roof and he laid back, patting the spot on the metal next to him.
You carefully laid down and scooted closer, letting out a small sigh of content. Stiles wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and he smiled down at you.
“Do you know any of them?” Stiles asked, gesturing toward the sky.
“Just the big and little dippers,” you told him.
He pointed above you. “That one right there? That’s Orion’s Belt.”
“Orion? Like the Greek hunter guy?”
“Yep,” he told you. “He loved the goddess Artemis. She was this badass huntress warrior…kind of a righteous bitch too, but Orion loved her. The story says that her brother, Apollo, didn’t like that. So one day, he dares Orion that he can’t swim out to a spot in the ocean. Then he goes to Artemis, and he’s like ‘Hey, Sis, bet you can’t hit that tiny speck in the ocean.’ And she’s, like, the goddess of archery, so of course she does, but then, his body washes up onto shore and she realizes she just killed Orion.”
“Oh my god,” you whispered. “That’s terrible.”
“There are a few different versions of the story,” Stiles explained. “But they all end the same way. Artemis realizes what she’s done, and she wants to save Orion, but it’s too late. So she takes his body, and she places it with the stars…like a memorial.”
“That’s not a bad way to be remembered,” you said softly. “With the stars.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Apollo was a pretty awful brother if you ask me. I mean, if Scott found out about us, I’d rather just have him kill me to my face, you know?”
You smacked his arm. “Stiles!”
“What?” he asked.
“He wouldn’t do that,” you grumbled. “He’d probably try to kick your ass, and he’d lock me in my room forever, but I doubt he’d try to trick me into killing you. He’s not that smart.”
“He’s a lot smarter than you think,” Stiles informed you.
“Well, he hasn’t found out about us,” you pointed out.
“Yeah…but what are we gonna do when I leave?” he asked you.
“It’ll be pretty easy to keep quiet when you’re not around,” you said softly.
Stiles blinked, and swallowed harshly. “Do you wanna break up?”
“What?” you demanded, staring at him wide-eyed. “Do you?”
“No, no, no,” he said quickly. “God, Y/n, we just got started. I hate having to leave you. I hate that I won’t be here with you, but I’m gonna be halfway across the country. I just want to make sure that you still want this.”
“Stiles,” you told him, squeezing his hand. “I’ll always want this. I’ll always want you.”
You pushed yourself up on your elbows and moved toward him, and when you pressed your lips to his, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He slid his fingers up to gently cup your cheek, and you shifted closer to him, until you were practically on top of him.
Crickets chirped around you in the summer night, and there was nothing but the sound of you, and Stiles, and the woods. You remembered all the summer nights you had spent with him, most of them before you were even together. Scott was usually there, begging you to leave them alone, but Stiles never minded when you tagged alone. He called you the three musketeers.
“They didn’t have a girl,” Scott would grumble.
“They do now,” you had told him, sticking your tongue out at him.
You would have given anything just to live in of those moments again, before all of the supernatural creatures and the death. So many things had changed, and you weren’t going to lie. It scared you.
Your world has shifted so much in the past few years, and you had no doubt that it would continue to twist and turn. You liked to think you handled it in stride, granted, with a lot of tears and blood, but still. With your brother and Stiles leaving, you were going to be the oldest in the pack. You were going to be wise one, the experienced one, and it hadn’t been so long ago that you had been the youngest.
Being without Stiles to guide you scared the wits out of you, and you weren’t so sure you could handle Beacon Hills without him. You had already seen how well that had gone when the ghost riders took him away.
It might have been terrifying, but the one thing you knew was that you had Liam, Hayden and Mason to have your back. Even Malia might still be there, because she was deciding on whether or not to leave and join Braeden with her mercenary work. The more you thought about it, and the more you melted into Stiles’ arms, you began to feel like maybe this wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe it was the beginning.
“Stiles,” you whispered suddenly, disconnecting your lips.
“Is everything okay?” he asked breathlessly.
You nodded. “It’s just…I want you to know I love you.”
His brown eyes went wide, and he sputtered with his words for a few seconds. “Y-you mean that?”
You took a deep breath and started to reply, but the crunch of tires on dried grass caused you to look up. Another car was pulling into the field, and in the few seconds it took you to disentangle yourself from Stiles, you realized it looked eerily similar to the car from before.
Stiles sat up on the roof next to you, and he squinted at the car. “Y/n, get in the car.”
“What?” you asked nervously. “Stiles, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t like it.”
He quickly and calmly slid down from the roof, offering you a hand down. The slamming of doors made you jump, and before you could make a move for the doors, you could see two huge shapes heading toward you and Stiles.
“Stay behind me,” he whispered, holding out an arm in front of you. “Can I help you guys with something?”
Now that they were closer, you could see that there were two men, both large and muscular, walking toward the jeep.
“Yeah, actually,” one of them called, stopping in the grass. “We’re looking for someone. Someone named Scott.”
You bristled, but you said nothing. Stiles shrugged. “Uh, Scott who? That’s a pretty popular name in this town.”
“Scott McCall,” he told Stiles. “Know him?”
Stiles shook his head. “Sorry, don’t know him. I doubt he’d be out here anyway.”
“What about you?” the second man asked, looking over at you.
You shook your head. “No idea. Sorry.”
“Really?” the guy asked. “I didn’t think someone could forget their own brother that easily.”
Every muscle in Stiles’ body went taut, and a chill ran down your spine. “Scott’s not here, okay? Whatever you want from him-”
“We want her.”
You moved closer to Stiles, eyeing the men in the dark. They were both looking at you, and you guessed whatever they wanted you for wasn’t exactly pleasant.
“I can’t help you.”
The first man laughed. “I think you can, Ms. McCall.”
Stiles stepped all the way in front of you. “She said she can’t.”
The man smirked, and glanced over at you. No sooner had you wondered what he was so smug about than you were ripped off your feet with a shriek. A thick, meaty hand clamped over your mouth, and Stiles whirled around with shock on his face. His eyes widened at the third man struggling to keep a hold on you. He must have been hiding farther away and sneaked over from the trees.
You were kicking out and scratching him, trying to wriggle free, and he seemed to be shocked you were fighting so hard. It took Stiles less than a second to rip open the back door of the jeep and yank out his aluminum baseball bat. The two other men stepped forward, and Stiles swung wildly, catching on of them in the face.
Seeing him fight stirred up something inside you as well, and you brought your fingers up and swiped your nails across your captor’s face. He yelped and dropped you as you scratched his eyes, and you hit the ground with a thud. You tried to scramble forward, your fingers digging into the dirt, but he picked you back up and slammed you down.
You let out a yelp, and Stiles glanced over in worry. You felt your heart sink, and while he was distracted, one of the other men grabbed the baseball bat in his hands and brought it up to slam into his forehead. You screamed as Stiles hit the ground, blood streaming from his head.
Even after everything you had seen, you had never stopped being terrified at the sight of your friends bleeding out. You tried to crawl toward him, but the man simply dragged you up from the ground and held your arms behind you.
You struggled, your eyes still on Stiles, but soon the other two men were walking toward you. The one who had hit Stiles dropped the bat on the ground with a thump, and you flinched at the sound.
You glared up at them as they came over. The man who seemed like the leader pursed his lips.
“Sorry it had to happen like this, Y/n. It was supposed to go much smoother. We were planning on taking you from your house when your brother left, but then Romeo here showed up.”
He gestured to Stiles, and your narrowed your eyes. “What do you want from me?”
“Information,” he told you simply. “You tell us how your brother’s powers can be taken, and we leave you here so you can drive your boyfriend to the hospital. I’d be surprised if that hit hasn’t given him brain damage…unless he already had it before. He seemed pretty stupid to me.”
“This is how you’re planning to get information from me?” you finally asked weakly. “Great tactic. You’re gonna have to try again though.”
“Alright, how about this?”
You weren’t prepared for the jolt you felt when his fist met with your cheek, but you would later realize you should have been. You tasted blood as you looked back up at him, raising your eyebrows.
“You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that,” you slurred through the blood.
He raised his eyebrows, looking over at his buddies. “Did you hear that guys? She said harder.”
The second one grinned. “We can show her harder.”
He stepped forward, curling his right hand into a fist, and to your credit, you didn’t close your eyes. You did look away though, and the last thing you saw before you blacked out was Stiles, lying unconscious in the field. If you ignored all the blood, you could almost imagine that he was peacefully asleep, so that was what you did. He was the last thought on your mind when you felt that final, jarring hit, and despite the situation, it made you feel a little less terrified.

Stiles woke up with a gasp, sweat pooling on his forehead, along with one sticky, familiar substance. He held a hand to his head and squinted down at the blood on it, and that was when he noticed the bat glinting in the corner of his eye. His eyes landed in the bloody weapon, and when he pushed himself weakly to his feet, everything came back to him.
He stumbled as he took in the jeep, the field, and the stars. You had been with him. You had been behind him when they grabbed you and ripped you away from him, and he remembered your scream before the blow to his head.
He looked around the field, trying to find you, or the men, but their car was gone.
“Y/n!” he screamed. He knew it was unlikely that you were still there, but he knew he had to try anyway.
“Y/n! Y/n!”
His voice was ragged and broken, and as he stood there in the dark, the stars shining above him, he knew this was his fault. He had taken you out here, and someone had taken you.
He leaned against the jeep and pulled out his phone, knowing he would have to call Scott. He dialed his number and allowed himself a sigh of relief when his best friend picked up.
“What’s up man?”
“Scott,” he breathed. “S-something’s wrong. Where are you?”
“I’m at Liam’s,” he told him. “Why? What happened?”
“Y/n…she…someone took her.”
“What?” Scott cried. “From the house?”
“No, no we…we were outside. I took her out to look at the stars. Someone followed us into the woods. They-they took her, Scott. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”
“Stiles,” Scott said suddenly. “Why were you with my sister?”
“I-Scott, why does it matter?” he asked. “We have to find her.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll call the others. You’re in the field, right? We’ll meet you there.”
“Yeah. Just hurry,” Stiles breathed. “I-I don’t know how long I’ve been out. She could be anywhere by now.”
“She’s my sister, Stiles,” Scott reminded him firmly. “We’ll find her.”

“How many were there?” Scott asked, staring down at Stiles as he sat on the hood of the
“Three,” he said, wincing as Lydia pressed a piece of gauze to his head. “Two of them
came from a car, and I think one of them must have been watching from the woods, because he came up and grabbed her from behind.”
“Did they hurt her?” Scott demanded.
“I didn’t see it,” Stiles admitted. “But when I woke up up and went over there was blood on the ground. It’s probably hers.”
“It is,” Liam admitted softly, coming over with Malia in tow. “It’s hers. It’s not a lot though…so isn’t that a good thing?”
“They took her for a reason,” Stiles said bitterly. “They said they were looking for you at first, but I think they just wanted her. They were probably following us since the moment I picked her up.”
“Why was she with you?” Scott asked. “Why didn’t she tell me you two were hanging out?”
Lydia glanced down at Stiles, her green eyes cautious and knowing. “I’m going to see if I can feel anything where she was taken.”
She gestured to Malia and Liam. “Maybe the three of us can put the pieces together.”
Stiles watched as they walked away, and then glanced back at Scott, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes.
“Stiles,” he said, accusation in his tone. “Why was my sister with you?”
Stiles swallowed and closed his eyes. “I was taking her out to look at the stars. It was supposed to be date.”
“What?” Scott demanded. “Why were you taking her on a date?”
“Because she’s my girlfriend, Scott,” Stiles said, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “She has been since I got back.”
Before he could blink, Scott was grabbing him by the throat and slamming him down onto the hood of the jeep. “You were dating my sister without telling me?! You-you did this behind my back!”
“Scott-” he choked. “It wasn’t-it wasn’t like how you’re thinking-”
“She’s my little sister!” he snarled. “And you took her out here, and now she’s gone.”
“Stop it!” Malia cried, appearing suddenly and yanking Scott away from Stiles. “This isn’t
going to help us find her. You have a right to be mad, but honestly, you’re the only one who didn’t know about it.”
“What?” Scott cried.
“It was kind of obvious,” Liam admitted. “We just thought you’d figure it out on your own.”
Scott huffed, and turned away. He didn’t look at Stiles once. “Did Lydia find anything?”
Malia shook her head. “Nothing more than we already know. Just that she’s still alive.”
Stiles moved away from the jeep. “She has to feel something. There has to be something.”
He walked over to the Banshee, who simply shook her head sadly at him. “Stiles-”
“Scream,” he ordered.
“Lydia, please,” he begged. “I know we might not find anything, but it’s worked before. Can you please try?”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “Cover your ears.”
She glanced back toward the rest of the Pack and said the same thing to them, and when she was sure they were doing it, she opened her mouth. Stiles watched painfully as the air rippled around her, and when she finally stopped, she looked around slowly.
“Do you-”
“Shh,” she shushed him, holding up her hand.
She closed her eyes, and soon the crackling of static began to fill her ears. She slowly turned around, and Stiles and the others watched as she walked back through the field toward them. Her sandals crunched in the dry grass as she made her way over to the jeep, and yanked open the door.
“Lydia, what is i-”
“Shh!” she hissed, trying desperately to understand something only she could hear. ”It’s the radio.”
She closed her eyes and leaned down toward the radio, listening as the static slowly began to morph into a sweet, familiar voice.
Let go of me, you were slurring. You sounded barely conscious, and Lydia felt nervousness fluttering in the pit of her stomach.
Look familiar? She heard another voice ask.
In her mind, you let out a weak, bitter laugh. ‘Course it’s this place. Everything that happened down here…and for years we never even knew it was here.’
The banshee static suddenly went silent, and Lydia opened her eyes. “No, no, no,” she whispered. “Come on. Come on.”
She reached forward the fumble with the channels on the radio, but all she could hear was silence. She was so close. She had heard you, and now you were gone.
“Lydia,” a voice finally said.
She looked up to see Malia placing her hand over hers, stopping her fingers from roaming over the buttons. She met the Coyote’s eyes, and she noticed a hint of regret in them.
“It’s not even on,” she said softly.
“I heard her,” Lydia said firmly, glancing over at the others. “She sounded like she might have been hurt, but she was alive.”
“What did she say?” Scott demanded. “Did she say anything about who took her? Or where she is?”
Lydia shook her head. “Not about who took her, but someone did ask if wherever they were looked familiar. And she said ‘Of course it’s this place. After everything that happened down here, and we never even knew it was here.’”
“Everything that happened here…” Scott said softly.
“In Beacon Hills?” Liam asked skeptically. “That could be anywhere. I mean, name one place here that hasn’t had some supernatural attack.”
“You can’t,” Malia stated bitterly. “So it looks like we’re back to square one.”
“Wait, wait,” Stiles spoke up suddenly. He had been gripping the door of the jeep and staring at Lydia as she listened, and he refused to believe that what she heard couldn’t help. “Were those her exact words? She said ‘everything that happened down here’?”
Lydia nodded. “She said ‘down’.”
“How many places have we almost died in that are underground?” Stiles asked.
“Well there was Malia’s coyote den,” Scott said. “The one you almost froze to death in. But I doubt they’d take her there.”
“The tunnels at Oak Creek,” Lydia suggested.
“And the tunnels under the town,” Stiles said firmly.
“The ones under the town make the most sense,” Liam offered. “I mean if you wanted to torture someone for information without anyone to hear, that would be the best place, right?”
Stiles and Scott shot a glare at him, and he swallowed nervously. “Sorry.”
“He’s got a point,” Malia pointed out. “The Dread Doctors did it.”
“But those tunnels stretch for miles,” Lydia protested. “She could be anywhere.”
“We can find her,” Stiles swore, stepping forward. “If we have to search all night, if we have to search for days, months…we’re going to find her.”
Stiles said it so firmly and with so much conviction that Scott looked over at him in shock. He met his brown eyes, but Stiles simply nodded at him.
“We’re going to find her,” he repeated softly.
“He’s right,” Scott confirmed. “Stiles, where do we start?”
Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Uh, well, I guess…I guess we would start with the closest entrance. There aren’t any around here, but there must be some sewers off the main roads.”
“We can split up,” Malia suggested. “Me, Liam and Lydia can take one way, and you two can take another. We’ll follow her scent.”
“We should probably stop at my house so I can get you something with her scent,” Scott said.
“Hold on,” Stiles, walking over to pull open the backdoor of the jeep.
He reached in and pulled out a balled up piece of fabric, and handed it over to Scott. Your brother recognized it as one of your favorite jackets.
“She, uh, she forgot it in here a couple days ago,” Stiles explained. “It should still smell like her though.”
“It does,” Malia assured him, pulling it from Scott’s hands. “It’s more than enough. Come on, guys. Let’s find her.”
She gestured to Liam and Lydia, and they followed her over to her car. Scott watched as they drove off toward the tunnels, and then he turned to Stiles. “Dude, look-”
“I’m sorry we lied to you,” Stiles interrupted. “We just didn’t know how to tell you. But,
Scott, you have to trust me when I say I never wanted anything to happen to your sister. I love her, dude. I didn’t even get the chance to tell her that either. But she told me. And…and I didn’t even get to say it back.”
“Stiles,” Scott said softly. “I trust you. I trust you more than anyone. I mean, I wish you would have told me. But I know you’d never let anything happen to her if you could help it. That gash on your head is proof. I trust you, dude. And we’re going to get my sister back.”
Stiles nodded and Scott clapped him on the back. “Let’s do it.”

“We’re gonna try this again, Y/n.”
You closed your eyes in exhaustion, but rough fingers digging into your chin caused them to flutter open. “I didn’t say we were finished here.”
“Really?” you mumbled. “Because I’m a little sick of looking at your face. Not very pleasant, y’know?”
The sharp crack of his palm across your face jarred you out of your stupor, and you glared at him. You fidgeted in the chair you were tied to, straightening up to look him in the eyes. His buddies were sitting against the wall playing cards, and here he was, beating the hell out of you.
It was true he wasn’t the most pleasant to look at, and he had a big ugly scar across his forehead. You had taken to calling him Scarface, because through your daze, it was kind of hard to keep all three men straight. You had learned they were hunters who were after your brother for some reason, but then again, who wasn’t?
“Someone tried to steal your brother’s power,” he continued. “How did they do it?”
“So many ways,” you whispered weakly. “None of them worked. I can’t help you.”
“How did they try?” Scarface demanded. “Think, Y/n.”
“Why does it matter?” you asked. “You’re not going to do it.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he told you, yanking you back by your hair.
You swallowed, nearly retching on the coppery taste of the blood in your mouth. “I’m giving you one more chance, Y/n. Your brother is a threat to a lot of good people. People who stop the monsters.”
“That’s exactly what Scott does,” you protested. “And he might be a werewolf, but people like you? You’re the real monsters.”
Scarface chuckled at you, and reached into his jacket to pull out a pocketknife. He flicked it open and crouched in front of you. “You wanna find out just how right you are?”
Exhausted and not in the mood to watch yourself being tortured, you closed your eyes. You could hear him taunting you, but you were too tired to care what he had to say. All he wanted to do was torture you, so you simply tuned out…or at least you tried to.
At the sound of yelling, you opened your eyes to find that the two other hunters had abandoned the card game and were now fighting two snarling blurs of claws and fangs. Malia and Liam were fighting them tooth and nail, and your heart swelled at the fact that they were fighting for you.
Scarface raised the knife and whirled around to you, but before he could touch you, he was knocked off his feet by an ear-splitting scream.
Lydia grinned as he slammed into the wall, and then she hurried over from the doorway.
“Lydia?” you croaked. “How? How did you know where I was?”
“I heard you,” she told you with a smile. “Don’t worry, Scott and Stiles are close.”
“Stiles,” you whispered. “Is he okay?”
“He’ll be better once he knows you’re safe.”
Scarface jumped to his feet and snatched his knife from the dirty floor, but before he could take another step, a familiar, snarling shape was storming into the room. Your eyes widened as Scott crossed the space between them in about two seconds.
You were expecting some of kind of massive fight, a lot like the boss battles in Stiles’ video games or the ones you had encountered before. Instead, this fight lasted less than a minute, if you could even call it an actual fight.
Scott stepped forward and caught the man’s arm before he could stab him, and the sickening scream of pain you heard told you your brother had just snapped his arm. He slammed him into the cement wall with a thump, and then Scarface was back on the ground, out cold.
While all this was happening, Stiles had darted into the room and gone right for you. “Y/n!” he breathed, his voice breaking when he caught sight of the blood on your face.
“I’m okay,” you tried to tell him. “I-think I’m okay.”
“God,” he whispered, pulling out a pocketknife and handing it to Lydia.
The Banshee cut your bindings, and soon you were spilling forward and into Stiles arms. He held you against his chest and you buried your head in his shoulder as he ran a hand down your back.
“I’m so sorry,” he told you. “I let them take you.”
“You didn’t,” you said in his ear. “Stiles, you tried to save me. You’re always trying to save me.”
“Yeah, well you saved me,” he said softly. “I’d die without you.”
You scoffed and pulled away to look into his eyes. “You’d be fine.”
“No,” he argued. “I wouldn’t. Y/n, what you said last night…I wanted to say it too. I just didn’t have time.”
“Stiles, you don’t have to-”
“No,” he repeated. “I love you, Y/n McCall. I’ve loved you since we were kids. It just took me way too long to realize it.”
Your eyes widened, and you looked over at Scott, who had walked over. Instead of the predicted outrage on his face, he simply smiled and gave you an encouraging nod. You mouthed ‘Thank you’ and turned back to Stiles, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him tight.
You sat there together on the dirty floor, wrapped in each other’s arms as Malia and Liam finally finished off the other two hunters. Everything was silent for a few brief moments, and before the chaos of reunion started, you took those few peaceful moments to lean in close and whisper in his ear.
“I love you too.”

APWOA: Chapter Six

This is the sixth chapter of A Penny’s Worth of Affections, my Claire / Jamie AU that takes place during WWI!

Ok so I said last time that I would write this chapter more ahead of time, but I am a total liar. Sorry about your long wait, but I did try to make this a little bit longer to make up for that; I hope it was worth the wait!!  

If you’re interested in listening to the two songs that inspired the last chapter and this one, you can listen to them here and here!

Shoutout to @internallydeceased for dealing with my ramblings (and that one moment where I started freaking out because I couldn’t find a voyager quote that I never ended up using) you’re the and I honestly don’t know what I would do without you. as well as @bonnie-wee-swordsman who is not only my outer conscience but a great friend; she is just a lovely human being all around and thank you so much for being you! 💛

Seeing as this one is longer than the others, I’m going to cut it a bit early in the chapter, so that it doesn’t get too long on the dashboard. I hope you guys like this chapter, and be sure to let me know what you think. ✨

Previous entries:
Prologue: A Penny ; I. The Red Man ; II. The Blue-Stockings ;
III. Heroic Acts and Twisted Scars ; IV. The Intensity of a Flame ; V. Heartlines


Edinburgh, Scotland

16th June 1914

It was when dawn broke that morning that Claire Beauchamp realized what she had gotten herself into. Traveling with Jamie had not been an unusual juncture—he had taken her many places since their first meeting; these destinations, however, were no more than a few miles from Edinburgh. The where wasn’t what had her sweating profusely as she ran about her room, trying to pack a reasonable amount of items for the venture of the next few weeks. It was the who.

  Jenny Murray, as well as her husband, Ian, were two very prominent figures in Jamie Fraser’s life. He spoke of them daily, telling stories about their relationships with one another. She knew so much about the three of them, in adolescence as well as adulthood, that she felt as if she was an outsider, intruding in on some secretive circle of small-town Scottish folks. Sassenach, indeed.

  Jamie had come to the Inn around noon, taking all of her possessions in his hands and bidding her uncle farewell. Claire also said goodbye to her uncle, kissing his cheek and smiling widely at him. And with that, the pair walked arm-and-arm to the train station. The hustle and bustle around them eased Claire’s nerves a little bit. Jamie noticed her unfocused gaze and smiled slightly, tightening the arm that was looped around her own.

  One of the times he had gone over to the Inn, Uncle Lamb had teased Claire for her unassociated behavior. He had called it then her wandering Wendy gaze, because every time she got this glazed-over look in her eye, Lamb had known she was thinking of the lives of those around her.

  “She likes to insert herself into other situations when she’s under great duress,” Lamb had told Jamie then, leaning forward so as not to catch Claire’s attention. The lady in question was standing by the window, one arm crossed over her torso with the other’s elbow resting on top if it, her fingers pulling at the plumpness of her bottom lip. “When wandering Wendy comes to town, you’ll know it. But I’ve learned, in my experience, that she isn’t aware that she does this. She’s in some kind of dream-like trance, you see.”

  Jamie had nodded, but Lamb wasn’t quite finished. “Have you heard that you’re never supposed to wake a sleepwalker? The same applies in this instance: if you see Claire in this state, you must not try to wake her from her stupor. She usually ends up with more anxiety than she had before Wendy took over. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” Jamie had said solemnly, glancing back over to Claire’s still form by the window.

  Who was she thinking about? He had asked himself presently, watching as she glanced from person to person as if they were apparitions: not truly there, but floating past her on an invisible breeze.

  She followed him into the train willingly, as if she was a dog on a leash, following its owner from one place to the next. Jamie, upon entering their car and making sure their luggage was in the correct overhead compartment, reached for Claire’s cheek. Her eyes were still glazed-over, eyelids fluttering as if she was trying to protect them from something.

  “Who were ye thinking of, Sassenach?” Jamie asked her when she came-to. He didn’t bother sitting beside her on the seat, nor across from her in his own. He was kneeling on the floor, right at her feet, moving his hands to rest just at her knees. “Was it the Lady again?”

  Claire shook her head. “No, I haven’t thought about her for… a long while. I was just thinking about what your sister is like. I’ve heard so much about her.”

  He sensed the underlying fear in her tone, and bid her to continue.

  “It’s nothing, really. Just silly juvenile thoughts,” She dismissed his prodding, meeting his eyes with a smile on her lips that she hoped was reassuring.

  Shaking his head as he took her hands into his own, his eyes softened from steely sapphire to blue silk. “Claire, I must ask something of you.”


  Despite his previous statement, he didn’t start with his request. “I understand that this is strange for ye, coming wi’ me to some place that you’ve never heard of, being ‘round people that are so verra different from you. But remember that I am here with ye; you needn’t be scairt of anyone, so long as I’m with ye.”

  She nodded as she looked down at her lap. Their hands had assumed their usual rhythm as she massaged his weaker hand, loosening the kinks and softly cracking his knuckles.

  “But also,” he added, voice heavy with emotion, “You needn’t be afraid of me, either.”

  Looking up from their woven hands, her expression changed to confusion. Her eyebrows drew closer together, the smooth spot in between them creasing deeply. “Who said I was afraid of you?”

  He shook his head, “I’m no’ saying that ye’re afraid of me, Sassenach. I just want you to know that I’ll no’ judge ye, no matter what you tell me. I respect you enough to not pass any judgements on your thoughts, should ye be brave enough to tell me.”

  Claire suspected something was off. “Jamie, what’s wrong? Is there something on your mind?”

  A brief silence overcame them as he stared at their entwined hands. Claire, still kneading his fingers with her own, followed his gaze to his left middle finger, where the lightning scar ran down the middle of it.

  “Before I tell ye this, Claire,” he said after a moment, “I need you to understand that ye won’t see me in the same light ye always have. And that if you wish to depart after all is revealed, I willna stop ye.”

  She squeezed his hand tight, bringing his scarred finger to her lips and placing a soft kiss in the space between his distal and middle phalanxes, right where the bolt of lightning rested on his opal skin. “I can tell you now, James Fraser, my feelings for you will not change. For as I know you now, I’m sure whatever you had done was within good reason.”

  The corner of his mouth turned upward into a smile. Running his thumb over her knuckles, he took a deep breath and began regaling her in his tale.

  It was near to four years ago now. Jamie, in the prime of his adolescence at age sixteen, was still living at Lallybroch with his family. His mother, Ellen, had been pregnant and was nearing the end of her third trimester, growing weaker and weaker by the day. She needed medicinal aid, and with the family being too poor to afford a physician, Brian sent Jamie to obtain it. (As Jamie told her this, Claire made a mental note to research puerperal fever more in-depth, since the symptoms Jamie had described gave her the idea that this had been Ellen’s ailment.)

  He had travelled on horseback to a town a bit far from where they dwelled, close to Fort William (where, Jamie described, English officers still lingered to this day). Brian had told Jamie to obtain the medicines by whatever means necessary, and to Jamie this meant to steal them. So he waited in the wood until nightfall, snuck into the apothecary’s shop, and grabbed an assortment of different vials, unsure of their contents.

  With a bag full of vials on his back, Jamie wandered back into the wood, before being spotted by an officer of the police force. He tried to run from him then, but instead was captured and taken to Fort William. It was there that Jamie had made the acquaintance of one Jonathan Wolverton Randall (who had also gone by the name Black Jack, as she would find out a while later).

  The way Jamie talked about the officer sent chills up her spine. After the fourth or fifth time Jamie had attempted to escape, Randall had decided that the best thing to do would be to essentially destroy his left hand. Seeing as Jamie was left handed, this gave Randall the mindset that if he didn’t have his dominant hand, he could no longer successfully escape. (What a fool, Claire had thought, but didn’t state this comment aloud.) Randall took a nail and drove it into Jamie’s hand with a mallet, nailing him to the table of which he sat. And for a few days, Jamie just sat at the table, staring at his mangled hand. But instead of feeling sorry for himself, he decided he needed to get back to his mother and be with her while he still could.

  One night, while Randall was God knows where, Jamie pulled the nail out of his hand and escaped from the prison, this time being successful. Upon arriving back at Lallybroch a few days later, he was able to see his mother one last time. She, along with the child, had died the night he returned, early in the morning while everyone else was asleep.

  Feeling as if her death was his own fault, Jamie had fled to Edinburgh to stay with his godfather, Murtagh, where he had been ever since.

  “I haven’t seen my family for four years now.” He added, their hands still joined in Claire’s lap. Jamie had moved beside her now, the two of them squished together on the small bench. His closeness left Claire’s heart fluttering in her chest, but she did not act on the multiple impulses that rushed through her body. This was no time for juvenile affections. “My father passed away a year or so ago, from a stroke. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jamie,” She murmured, removing one of her hands from his grasp and resting her palm on his cheek. He leaned into it, like a cat being pet behind the ears. For a moment, she thought she heard a purr forming deep in his throat.

  “There’s nothing to apologize for, Sassenach. I’m no but a fool, and a man escaping his past.” He cleared his throat and pulled his own hands from her own, grasping at her wrist tightly. “Do you still see me the same, Claire? Am I still worthy of your affections?”

  “Jamie,” she said forcefully, putting her other hand on the opposing cheek. “From what you’ve told me, you were doing something you thought was right. Maybe not through the best means, but you were trying to save your mother.”

  A moment of silence passed, the only thing filling the empty void was the sound of their heartbeats, drumming together in unison.

  “If anything,” she finally said, scooting closer towards him. “The light from which you shine is much brighter now than it had been before.”

The train ride from Edinburgh to Broch Mordha came and went quickly, mostly due to the fact that Claire slept through the majority of it. After their heart-to-heart, and a brief kissing of cheeks and the wiping of tears, Claire had nestled her head onto Jamie’s shoulder, where it stayed until they had arrived at their destination. And upon getting everything packed into the buggy that Jenny sent for them, they had resumed that position. Jamie, who hadn’t bothered to sleep (for he wasn’t tired in the slightest), decided instead to talk to Claire in her sleep, telling her stories from his youth in the Scottish Gaelic. But after a short while, when he knew her to be too deep in her own dreams to hear him, he started speaking the language of his heart. No barriers would form between them as she slept in his arms.

  Claire had woken a little while into his fervent speech, but decided not to let it be known that this was so. Instead, she nestled closer into his side, trying to keep her breathing even as she listened to the words she didn’t understand. Despite this, however, she knew that she hadn’t heard anything so beautiful in her entire life.

  They neared their destination some hours later. When Jamie had finished his speech and started gazing out the window, Claire decided to voice an inquiry that had been swirling in her mind since the words left his lips.

  “Jamie?” She asked him groggily, running a hand over one of her eyes, feigning drowsiness. “What does mo sorcha mean?”

  Shocked, Jamie turned to face her. Trying to compose himself, instead of asking how she knew he had said that, he smiled shyly as a crimson blush rose to his cheeks.

  “Well, in Gaelic, sorcha means light. That’s your name, ken; it means light, does it not?”

  “Yes, but what about the first part? The mo.”

  His blush grew ever darker. “Well, that means my.”

  My light, she thought to herself. Her eyes welled with tears. “Your light?”

  He nodded, eyes shining brightly. “You are my light, Claire. A shining beacon in the dark sea of my life.”

  “You should write poetry,” she laughed. “Since you speak of such a metaphor.”

  “I do,” he confided in her. “Sometimes.”

  “Would you ever read one to me?”

  Smiling, he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles again. That was one of his favorite things to do, she noted, rubbing his thumb over the bumps on her hands. “Someday.”

  They finally arrived to Lallybroch some time later. Jamie got out first, helping Claire before grabbing her belongings. They started towards the house before realizing someone was watching them. A woman, standing barely to Jamie’s shoulder, stamped quickly towards them, eyes lit in a dark blue flame. Claire noted how regal she looked, despite her short stature, with dark hair pulled into an elegant updo and an outwardly bulging stomach as she was well within her third trimester. The look in her cat-like eyes could kill anyone who dared cross her, and right now, the look was pointed directly at her brother.

  “Where in God’s name have ye been, ye clotheid?!” Janet Fraser Murray demanded angrily. Claire, from her spot standing behind Jamie’s shoulder, thought that if she had gotten any angrier, she might have her child right then and there.

  Jamie, unsure of how to defend himself, said back to her in a soft voice, “I understand that ye’re mad at me, Jenny—”

  “You bet yer arse I’m mad at ye, James Fraser! I dinna see yer face for four years, heard nothing of you but brief testaments on parchment of yer health and well being, only to see you bring along some woman to our ancestral home! You are bloody damn right I’m angry with ye!”

  Claire, unsure whether her presence here was discussed or not, took a step backward towards the buggy, muttering, “Maybe it’d be best if I left…”

  “No, Claire, stay.” Jamie begged, dropping the luggage in his hands and grabbing her wrist, pulling her to his side. “My sister is upset wi’ only me, and shouldna take her fury out on you.”

  Jenny, nostrils flaring, took a deep breath and turned to Claire, nodding in acknowledgement. “Claire, ye said?”

  “That’s right,” Claire nodded, extending her hand towards the angry woman. “Claire Beauchamp, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from your brother.”

  She raised an arched eyebrow skyward but nodded once more, taking Claire’s hand in her own and shaking it promptly. “It’s a pleasure to meet ye, Claire.”

  The noise of the door opening and closing pulled everyone’s attention away from the matter at hand. A man came towards them, wiping his hands on his trousers and smiling broadly.

  “Jamie, lad! Welcome home!” The man said, pulling Jamie into an embrace. Claire smiled at the joy on Jamie’s face at seeing his brother-in-law, but promptly dropped it as she looked back to his sister, whose alabaster face was still shrouded in anger.

  Pulling out of the embrace with his brother-in-law, Ian smiled at Claire politely before picking up some of their bags and making his way to the house. “Why don’t we get ye two settled in, aye? Dinner should be set soon enough.”

Keep reading

Library Games- NamjoonxReader Smut

Originally posted by choke-me-namjoon

So basically one my friends on twitter ( @marumisea ) said “I want to fuck Namjoon in a library” and this was the result:

Namjoon and you have been dating in secret for a few months now and while neither of you minded exposing the relationship you both enjoyed the sneaking around and secrecy of it all. 

You were both in the library, seemingly reading to any enquiring eyes. Neither of you were reading though, the only thing or person in this case who could distract you two bookworms from a book was the other. 

There was no way Namjoon could focus on reading when he could instead write his own story on your skin with his lips and there was no way you could flip pages when you could instead be flipping over for him. The two of you made faces at each other half hidden by your books.

Keep reading

college boyfriend!mark

Originally posted by mayfifolle

  • soooo mark strikes me as the type of guy you’d wanna date in your early twenties
  • he’s like the sweet gentle type that you date for a long time, take home to your parents, plan your future out with ya feel
  • unlike the rest of my boyfriend scenarios, i really like the idea of mark being like normal mark
  • not famous, going to school mark
  • now you meet mark bc you two happen to take a really obscure class together
  • like,,, there’s maybe ten people in the entire class (you’re kind of lost as to why it even exists tbh)
  • but hey, it’s the only alternative for another class you didn’t make the roster for, so you’ll take what you can get
  • on your first day there, there’s only like three people in the entire lecture hall so you’re confused af
  • you end up walking up to the first person you see and you’re like “yo, i’m here for my class but i think i have the wrong place”
  • the person’s head is hung down as they write out something in their notebook
  • but then they look up
  • you’re momentarily shocked by how pretty this person is bc like… damn
  • he smiles like “oh hey, yeah this is the place. don’t worry, it’s this small all the time. i’m mark” 
  • and he holds his hand out for you to shake and as soon as you touch palms you have to hide your shocked expression bc!! boy has some soft ass hands!!!
  • besides the callouses on his fingers his touch is as gentle as his smile
  • you tell him your name through a strangled breath and he repeats it to himself before smiling at you again and you’re still trying to figure out how someone could be this nice and beautiful
  • “do you want to sit next to me? i can help you catch up on anything you need help with” he offers, but he’s already pulling out the seat next to him and how could u refuse hah..haha
  • you plop in that seat so fast
  • you two end up going over his notes for all of three minutes before he starts inquiring about you and your major and your plans for the future
  • in fact you two are so lost in what you’re talking abt that you only realize the professor is there when she drops a book on yours and mark’s desk with a raised eyebrow like “yall done”
  • you and mark are blushing so hard lmao
  • throughout the whole class tho, you can’t really focus on anything besides mark beside you
  • you notice every time he moves, or every puff of breath that leaves him when he’s focused on writing down the professor’s words as she barrels through her lecture at lightning speed
  • when the class is over, you’re all over the place bc you only managed to capture half of what she said and you couldn’t put any of the information you had into something comprehensible
  • you stand next to your desk with a pout on your lips, not noticing until his breath is on your shoulder that mark is peeking at your notes
  • “that doesn’t look very… that isn’t exactly… do you need some help?” mark is so disheartened looking at your notes that he literally can’t help offering his own to you
  • but you’re so thankful and you’re like “thank you thank you!!! how can I repay you?”
  • and mark is pretty adamant that you don’t need to pay him back, that he’s just being a helpful classmate, but then as you’re taking pictures of his notes he just,,, “do you wanna go on a date? i-i mean a study date. you know. to study. the material. for school”
  • of course you can’t say no to the cute blush on his cheeks and the stutter in his words and omg is he biting his lip what the fu
  • “totally!! i’ll give you my number and you can text me whenever you’re free” 
  • you two exchange numbers and you’re on your way
  • this turns out to be a mistake bc it’s only twenty minutes later when you’re headed to your next class and all you can think about is him
  • your hands keep fiddling with your phone and even your friend in that class is like “are u good”
  • you wanna text him so bad tbh but like you dont want to be weird or anything
  • and then like as soon as you get out of class to go get lunch your phone buzzes and you nearly get whiplash from how fast you look at your phone
  • mark: are you busy later? its never too late to start studying
  • i mean… you just got out of that class like two hours ago but oF COURSE MARK YOU’D LOVE TO
  • you’re not even surprised when the entire study date turns into you two just getting to know each other
  • he tells you about how he loves music, how his roommate jackson is always trying to get him out of his shell and it kind of hits you that mark isn’t the type to do things like this
  • the fact that he’s stepped out of his comfort zone to hang with you is so endearing that you kind of just sit your chin in your palm and watch him lovingly as he talks about his interests and you’re pretty sure “i’m so attracted to you??” is written across your forehead but you don’t even care
  • at the end of the date, he walks you back to your dorm, and before you can disappear into your room, he grabs at your hand gently
  • his hold is unsure, but he looks determined, even if he’s incapable of making eye contact
  • “was it just me or was today more of a date than it was studying?”
  • you just nod, your smile widening as he rubs the back of his neck when his palm grows sweaty in yours
  • “would you… maybe like to do that again? the date part of course. i mean we can study too if you’d like, honestly as long as we’re hanging out-” “I’d love to mark”
  • it’s official, you’re dating!!
  • you’re surprised how quickly you fall for mark too
  • weeks pass and you two basically spend every waking minute together
  • if you aren’t physically beside each other, you’re texting, or calling, or thinking about the other
  • while you two haven’t had the talk abt official titles, you secretly look at each other like that
  • it’s only evident one day when you’re talking to jackson, in his and mark’s dorm room while mark gets dressed for your date
  • jackson is telling you how he’s known mark for a while now and he’s never seen him act the way he does when he’s with you
  • “i think he’s really serious about you… but are you serious about him?” jackson asks, and you can’t hate him for asking bc you know how protective he is of his best friend
  • but his question is so out of the blue that you take a minute to think about it, your mind kinda lost on you as you try to think up a satisfactory answer
  • and then it all becomes clear to you, like a cloud parted over your feelings
  • “i’m really serious about him. it’s early but… i think i really want to be with him for a long time. he makes me feel so warm and happy and he’s not like any guy i’ve ever known. i feel like mark… is the one”
  • and then a smile cracks across jackson’s face before he turns his head to something behind you, and you turn your attention over your shoulder to see mark smiling with literal stars in his eyes 
  • “you were right mark. she passed my test”
  • when you realize what’s going on your cheeks immediately start burning, and you deliver a few blows to mark’s shoulder but even through the pain and complaining he can’t stop how happy he is
  • he keeps the cheesy smile the whole night oml you have to kiss him just to get him to stop
  • besides mark being the cutest boy ever he’s also a little (big) shit
  • always playing some kind of a prank on you
  • one time he convinces you he’s turned your favorite white sweater green with a picture of said sweater looking bright lime 
  • and you’re so mad but he just smiles at you and flutters his eyelashes like “im sorry, you still love me right??” 
  • and of course you’re still mad but you reassure him with a forehead kiss and then he laughs and goes “i didn’t ruin your sweater, youngjae helped me photoshop it so it looked like i did”
  • he gets so many bruises that day
  • but his friends make up for it by teasing the shit out of mark
  • his friend jinyoung has a plethora of embarrassing stories about mark that you could just sit there for hours listening to how mark broke his finger playing bop it
  • mark’s youngest friends, dance majors yugyeom and bambam and computer science major youngjae see mark as the older bro of their friend group as mark is the oldest, so they kinda see you as their older sister
  • therefore, you are not unaccustomed to unannounced visits from the three at all hours of the day
  • yugyeom is always asking you to criticize his dances, bambam always asks you to help him study, and youngjae honestly just comes over to sleep bc his roommate is super loud and he never gets a moment of peace
  • in return, you use them for everything
  • all you have to do is say “do this” and they’ll do it bc they love u so much and they have to pay you back somehow for how much they bother you
  • even when mark is over and you two are trying to have some time alone they’ll still stop by and won’t leave despite all the urging to
  • the amount of times you have to call either jaebum or jinyoung to save you has gotten out of hand
  • but even then you don’t mind bc honestly they’re like family to you now, and you love them too much to ever hate being around them
  • in turn, mark is really aware of how special you are to him and he makes sure he lets you know
  • if you’re sick, mark is skipping all his classes to take care of you
  • even if you protest he cannot be persuaded
  • if he really can’t miss a class or has an exam tho, he’ll send one of the boys to take care of you and of course they do so at the drop of a hat
  • makes sure you’re caught up in schoolwork, and always offers to help you study for big tests bc he knows you have a hard time doing so by yourself
  • if you’re too lazy to go grocery shopping he has no prob going out and doing it for you
  • he’s just such a doting bf like he doesn’t mind doing whatever you need done
  • even tho he doesn’t always say “i love you” with words, you can tell just by how he treats you
  • he says i love you when he asks if you’ve gotten enough sleep in the middle of class, and when you shake your head no, he lets you nap and promises to explain the lesson to you later
  • he says i love you when he makes you dinner bc he knows you’re too busy with homework to make it for yourself
  • he says i love you in all of his own little ways
  • but when he does remember to say it, it’s always said with such warmth and fondness that you have to take a second to collect yourself from the utter cuteness before you say it back
  • overall, mark is a loving, caring bf and he’s the best never let him go

other boyfriend!got7:



In the dark room
there is rain on the window
like pebbles thrown against glass
lightning blinks under the shade
bright yellow stabs of light
I wait for sleep
held back by thoughts of you
how lonely
sometimes we both are
I worry
over the comfort I cannot give
if you were here
how I would fold you into me
and half your burdens
it seems sometimes
they are shared
merely by wishing
we meet in between
all the space we have
bright place
built on words
I would make this breath real
kiss it into being

Cars 3 Hero Ending
  • [Lightning is victorious against Jackson and secures his place in the racing world once again]
  • Lightning: [to Cruz] If there's anything you ever need, just let me know.
  • Cruz: Actually... there is one thing...
  • [Lightning and Mater take Cruz tractor tipping that same night]
Lightning Bolt Soulmate! Barry Allen x Reader Part Two

Fandom: The Flash

Characters: Reader, OC

Word Count: 1,017

A/N: This is part two to Lightning Bolt and I sooo appreciate the feedback and amount of people who have been asking for another part, it honestly makes me want to scream with happiness! So thank you guys so much for everything and enjoy!

Part One | Part TwoPart Three | Part Four

Originally posted by depressedparalysis

Ever since I woke from the 13 month coma, I’ve been experiencing changes to my body. Not the kind of changes you go through when you’re going through puberty, but weird changes. My heart seemed to always be racing, no matter how rested I felt, I would try to walk and find myself being across the room instead, weird things that were not normal. And ever since the city became aware of the “metahumans” that were running around, I decided to stay in the shadows. All of these metahumans were turning out to be villains, being either locked away forever, or being killed. I tried to assimilate, I got a boyfriend, a job at the local diner, an apartment, everything that made it look like I was normal. But I knew that I wasn’t.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Have you been here all night?...(.) Prompt pretty please you're a goddess

(I haven’t really got time to do requests, but seeing as you asked so sweetly Anon…!  I really enjoyed writing this, and it turned out a bit longer than anticipated, but, ahh well! 2K words of fluff to brighten your day <3)


All Night

Harry swayed as he pushed his way through the throng in the nightclub.  His vision had been getting blurry for a while now, and he scowled as he took a swig from the bottle of champagne dangling from his fingers.  He was pretty sure he’d been aiming to feel better, but he had a sneaking suspicion that hadn’t turned out to be the case.  

Bright colours flashed in the darkness and the music pounded.  He hiccupped, and ran his free hand through his damp hair.  What the hell was he doing with his life?  

He knew the situation with Ginny had been heading for a fall for some time, and he could honestly say he didn’t blame her for ending things.  They had been two broken children, trying to make sense of the adult world, and it had been time to accept that some things just couldn’t be fixed.  

But it had been six months now, and he was tired of feeling empty.  But filling himself up with booze probably wasn’t answer.  He just didn’t know what else to do at this juncture.  

His body was slick with sweat, and what little clothing still remained clung to his person as he traversed the crowd.  He had come with a couple of his other single friends – Terry and Justin – but he’d lost them a while ago.  How long ago, he couldn’t tell.  Time had lost all meaning in the dark and crowded club.  It was the early hours of the morning though, of that he was sure.  

The thought of going back to his cold and lifeless house spurred him back to the bar.  He’d secured his wallet and wand to his hip, jutting out of his skin tight briefs where he could reach them, and fished out a tenner to get another…something.  Beer, bubbly, shots and shooters, he’d done them all in the space of a few hours, but now maybe he could do with something to sip.  His body ached, and he thought he might find a quiet corner to nurse some firewhiskey.  

The wizard behind the counter didn’t flinch as Harry reached the front of the small crowd waiting to purchase drinks.  Harry thought that was rather impressive, considering he was not only the bloody ‘Chosen One’, with his instantly recognisable lightning bolt scar, but he was also only sporting an open shirt over his underwear.  Jeans, shoes, socks, even his tie were all long gone, discarded along with his dignity.  

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but it wasn’t his voice that placed the order.  

“Two fingers of brandy,” came a familiar drawl.  “And a pint of water for my friend here.”

Harry blinked, frowned, then turned to face the owner of the voice.  “Malfoy?”  He instinctively pulled his shirt lapels closer together.  However, seeing as he had pinged most of the buttons off previously, there was only so much he was going to hide.  “What are you doing here?”

Malfoy gave him his customary smirk, and handed over the coins for their drinks.  “That’s a little rude, Potter.”  He picked up their tumblers of brandy with his long fingers, then pushed the water into Harry’s hands.  “Drink.”

He turned without saying anything further, but Harry understood the unspoken request to follow.  Even after all these years, and time spent working together, Draco Malfoy still managed to make Harry’s stomach twist.  He was impeccable as always, not a hair or crease out of place, and there Harry was, a dripping, stumbling mess.

He left the almost finished champagne bottle on the side, and weaved through the crowd.

Of course Malfoy had his own private booth, and once Harry had stepped over the threshold, he watched him wave his wand to muffle out the noise of the music to a whisper, and dim the club beyond to a shadow.

Harry suddenly felt very cold and exposed.  “Have you been here all night?” he mumbled, moving to sit on the velvet, semi-circular sofa, hoping the small table would hide some of his bare legs.  

Malfoy sat opposite him, leaning back and crossing his ankle to rest on his knee.  “Yes.” He took a sip of his brandy, watching Harry over the rim of his glass.  He’d left Harry’s tumbler on the table between them, but Harry shunned it in favour of his water, which seemed like an excellent idea right about now.  

He took a big gulp, and tried to pull his shirt over his chest again.  “Right,” he uttered into the glass, averting his eyes.

“I thought your stint on the stripper pole was most entertaining,” Malfoy said, a glint in his eye.  The lighting was low and cast deep shadows, but Harry was pretty certain he could still tell he was blushing.  

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said defensively. “No one was.  I just – look it’s not a crime to let off steam once in a while.”

“Did I say it was?”  Malfoy placed his glass down, then waved his wand again, conjuring a blanket from thin air. He scooted along the sofa, then draped it over Harry’s shoulders.  Harry froze, unsure what to make of such an act.  “You’re shivering,” Malfoy explained.  But he didn’t move away once Harry had it wrapped around him.  He just plucked his brandy back up, and regarded Harry’s face as he took another mouthful.

Harry gripped tightly to the blanket, grateful for its warmth.  He supposed he could have cast any old charm to heat himself up a bit, but he liked the comforting feel of the soft material against his skin.  

“Why are you here?” he asked again.  

Fuck Malfoy was beautiful.  Was that right?  Was he allowed to think that about another guy?  Well, he was, so sod it.  It was only in his head, if he wanted to think Malfoy was beautiful, no one else had to know.


“Beautiful?”  Malfoy raised an eyebrow.  

Harry spluttered into his water.  “What?”

But Malfoy just stared, a tentative smile curling on his lips. He leant forward, and brushed back one of Harry’s wayward curls.  “You look sad, Potter,” he murmured.  “That doesn’t seem right, that you should be sad.”  

Harry wanted to deny it, to argue he was perfectly fine, thank you very much.  But the words got caught in his throat.  Besides, the skin on his face where Malfoy had touched appeared to be burning up, and he couldn’t think straight.  Instead he downed the rest of his water, and swapped to the brandy to fortify him.  “What do you care?”

Malfoy studied him for a bit.  Harry squirmed and turned his gaze to his finger tracing along the rim of his glass, producing a faint ringing sound as he did.  

“Would it be so bad if I did?”

Harry looked back up at him.  “Did what?”


Harry’s eyes shifted downwards again, and he bit his lip. Everybody thought they cared about him. His friends, his colleagues, strangers he met on the street.  But most of the time, they only cared that he was alright.  They wanted him to be their hero still, they didn’t want to see him broken, or if they did, they wanted him to be fixed quickly.  He couldn’t afford to disappoint them.  “No,” he admitted.  “It wouldn’t be that bad.”  

Malfoy wasn’t like the others.  He never pretended.  He always gave it to Harry straight, even if he was being a complete prick about it. They had come a long way since their school days, had even worked together several times as Aurors, and Harry had learnt to trust him.  Even if it was begrudgingly at times.   So if Malfoy said he cared…that he wanted to care…

“Can I call you Draco?”  He wasn’t sure where the question had bubbled up from, but he swallowed as he nervously waited for the answer.  

Malfoy – Draco – licked his lips.  “Sure,” he said softly.  He raised his hand, and carefully stroked Harry’s hair back again. This time however, he left his fingers amongst his curls, rubbing little circles against the scalp.  Harry couldn’t help but utter a soft moan, closing his eyes as he leant into the touch.  “If I can call you Harry.”  

“That’s my name,” Harry mumbled, his eyes still closed.  He heard Malfoy chuckle.  

They stayed like that for a few moments, and Harry slumped down against the sofa, his shoulder meeting Draco’s.  How long had it been since someone had touched him like this? With a caress?  

It was like something a lover would do.  


He hummed.  “Yeah?”

There was a pause.  “Keep your eyes closed for me, okay?”

Harry felt his lips quirk in amusement, but he didn’t really think about the request much.  It was nice to not have to think, to just trust in someone else for a change.  “Sure,” he said with a sigh.  

He lost himself in Draco’s ministrations, thinking it wouldn’t be too bad if he just fell asleep, all wrapped up and warm, in someone else’s arms.  

The kiss was so light, he almost didn’t register it at first.

He noticed its absence before he worked out what had happened. Then he couldn’t help but blink his eyes open, gazing into Draco’s, his face only an inch or two away.  “Huh,” he said, reaching up to trace his fingertips along the side of Draco’s temple.  “Your eyes are grey.”  He’d never known that before.  

Draco smiled.  “Yes they are.”

Harry licked his lips, a little frown creasing his brow.  “You kissed me?”  

“Yes,” Draco agreed.  The smile faded from his face.  Harry didn’t like that.  He dropped his hand, and ran a thumb over his lower lip.  Draco’s breath hitched.  

“Now you’re sad,” he said, mirroring Draco’s comment from before. “Why?”

He cupped the side of his face to his palm, and gazed into those grey eyes.  They were like pools of liquid metal in the dim light.  “You can forget about the kiss Harry,” he said, still sad.  

“But-”  Harry shook his head, confused.  “I don’t want to.  It was nice.”

Draco narrowed his eyes.  “You don’t mean that.”  Harry may have been drunk, but he could hear the hope in his voice.  “You’ll regret it in the morning.”  

Harry didn’t think that sounded right.  So he thought he’d try an experiment.  

He leant forwards, and pressed his lips to Draco’s again. It didn’t last long, but just enough that they could both move their mouths a little, a touch of tongue slipping through to connect them.  Harry pulled back, and Draco stared at him, panting almost imperceptibly.  

“There,” he said, rather pleased with himself.  “Now we both kissed each other.  How about we see how we feel about that in the morning?”

Draco stared for another moment, then barked out a laugh, mirth lighting up his eyes.  It was infectious, and Harry grinned too.  “Alright,” he said.  “But I mean it, you can just forget all about it.”

Harry hummed, contented, and snuggled against his side. “Doubt it,” he mumbled.  “Can I sleep now?”

“Here?” Draco sounded dubious.  “I could take you home you know?”  

That sounded an awful lot of bother to Harry.  He shook his head, and threw some of the blanket around Draco’s body.  “Stay here,” he grumbled.  

Draco chuckled again, and brushed his fingers against Harry’s shoulder.  “You’re cute when you pout,” he told him.  

“Shh,” Harry chastised.  “Sleep now.”  

He felt Draco’s sigh through his chest.  Harry smiled victoriously to himself as he listened to Draco send a message to the management, informing them they would be commandeering the booth until the morning.  Then he enlarged the sofa to more of a bed size, and transfigured their brandy glasses into soft, fluffy pillows.  “Come here, you big lump.”

Harry allowed himself to be lowered down, and cuddled against Draco’s chest.  He’d never been the little spoon before.  It was nice.

The blanket covered them both easily, and with Draco’s arms wrapped around him, he could soon feel himself drifting off.  “Goodnight,” Draco whispered, placing a sweet kiss on his neck, just below his ear.  

Harry was so content, he knew it would be no trouble to stay like that all night.  

And that’s exactly what he did.  


(I blame Yuri On Ice for most of that scenario lol)