#historical fan fic

[amandacanwrite]

The Bear and the Fox - A Halsin x Reader One Shot

Word Count || About 6,000 Words

Scenario || You are a druid adept that has been imprisoned by Kagha for trying to stop the Rite of Thorns in Halsin's absence. He returns to find you and is none to happy to see it, especially after all you have been through.

POV || 2nd Person, ungendered tav/reader.

CW || mentions of entrapment, trafficking, self-deprecation, trauma. (Please let me know if I forgot anything.)

A/n || I have been a little stressed out and have been using this as a distraction/escape. I would appreciate so much if you all let me know what you think! Requested by the lovely @drabblesandimagines, thank you for the idea and I hope you enjoy it!! Thank you for your patience in waiting for this one!

You’re almost certain Archdruid Halsin doesn’t know you exist, but it doesn’t stop you from being devastated when he doesn’t return to the Emerald Grove from his travels to the nearby goblin camp. Even if he doesn’t remember you, you certainly have never forgotten him. Nor have you been able to wrench your heart from the grip of the merciless pining that has plagued you ever since you woke up on a pile of soft hides on the floor of his vault beneath the temple.. 

The truth is, Archdruid Halsin had saved you. 

You’d been captured, at the time, by a troupe of traveling drow with the intention of taking you deep into the underdark to be used for whatever nefarious purposes they deigned. You were one of many captured, but the only druid in the lot. 

They’d entrapped you in a cage, preventing you from even taking your wildshape to flee. They’d gone between distressing you in both forms, though. They’d seemed to have a particular talent for making you miserable, and in time you’d lost a bit of your humanity to the shape of the russet and auburn fox you often favored. 

When he’d reached in to coax you out with a gentle hand, you pounced on the appendage–far too entrapped in the fear-addled mind of an animal that would sooner gnaw its own foot off than let a hunter find it caught in his leghold trap. 

But he hadn’t flinched; hadn’t even grimaced as you sank your sharpened teeth into the thick flesh of his muscled forearm and tore at it. He’d simply watched calmly as you got it out of your system. When you’d realized he was an unyielding mass of man, you’d backed into the farthest corner of your kennel and cowered. 

“Fear not, little one,” he’d cooed with that gentle, gravelly tone. “You are among friends now. I only wish to ensure you’re uninjured, and you can be on your way to find your mate or your burrow.”

You’d only blinked and he swapped his bleeding arm for his other one. You’d sniffed cautiously before dropping your head and your ears. He’d not needed any other sign, he’d known the way animals communicate; with gestures and body language rather than sounds.

He’d smoothed a hand over your ratty coat; it was the first kind touch you’d felt in months. You’d leaned yourself into it and he’d used the opportunity to scoop you up into his arms. 

Perhaps it was at that moment that you’d fallen for him. Because as soon as you’d registered the strong and tender support of his warm, cradling arms, you’d suddenly realized how exhausted you’d been. You lost hold on your wildshape and changed back to your humanoid form, unclothed and skinny. 

He’d started, adjusted his grip a little clumsily as you’d spilled out of the space he’d allotted in his arms for you; but he didn’t drop you.

“You surprised me, child,” he’d said as you’d started to drift into unconsciousness. “I’d certainly thought it was strange to go through such stringent measures for a single fox, but I see now why they’d made such efforts to keep you entrapped.”

He’d reached up to brush your tangled hair away from your face. “I can see you’re exhausted. Rest now; when you wake, you’ll be safe and warm with a meal and a warm bath awaiting you.”

He hadn’t lied, and the Emerald Grove had quickly become your home in the months and years that had passed since then. You’d seen Halsin around, of course. And he always seemed to have a smile to spare for you as you passed like swans floating in a pond. But you’d never quite been able to find a way to speak to him in private. 

Perhaps it was your fault, you think, as you find yourself in a new cage, heart broken and aching as it seems less and less likely that he will ever be coming back. 

You know Halsin to be strong. He’s a seven foot elf and built like the cave bear he so often likes to take the shape of. But there is only so much a single druid can do on his own, even one as competent as Halsin. 

It hurts to be facing the possibility of rotting in the cells below the grove–below the place that had so much begun to feel like home for you, finally. It hurts to realize you may die here having never told Halsin how you feel about him. 

But perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps it is better to die having never faced the awkward acknowledgement of feeling that could never be returned. 

Halsin has always been effusive, warm, welcoming…brave. 

But there is a reason you chose the fox for your wildshape. 

You have always been furtive, timid, too reliant on a single person. It has always been your nature, but you can’t deny the fundamental absurdity of the fox falling for the bear. At best, you could only be an inconvenient pest to him. You’re sure of that much. 

Still…you miss the sun…you wish you could see it one more time. You’d always wanted to die bathed in the sunlight, not cold and damp in a stone chamber flooded with three inches of water. You curl into yourself, hugging your knees close, trying to remember the feeling of those warm arms around you as the Rite of Thorns continues somewhere above ground, heedless of your pleas for stalling, uncaring of the courage you’d had to summon to stand up to Kagha at all. 

Kagha had never cared much for you; found you weak and miserable. 

Pathetic. That was the word you’d heard bandied around when she didn’t know you were within earshot or when you were cozily cloaked by your shadows. 

“You should have just kept your mouth shut,” you tell yourself. 

But even you don’t really believe that. Not truly. You found kindred spirits in the Teiflings who had come to find refuge in the grove. You’d even played with the children in their little hiding spot beneath the old stone structures. 

When the goblins came screaming the name of the Absolute, when Halsin left to learn more about the parasites, you’d been shocked and frightened by the sudden turn of sentiments against them and gotten swept away in your own outrage over it. As far as you’d been concerned, everyone in the grove should have been well aware of what Halsin would have tolerated. They should have known that he’d want any living being to be safe and fed–especially the children. 

But it’d seemed that even the Emerald Grove druids were merely people; they were just as vulnerable to intimidation, coercion and power hunger as anyone else in Faerun. 

You shiver in the cold and the dank, wishing you could get some rest so that you could take your wildshape and find warmth in the silken texture of your auburn coat. 

You think of the nights curled up by the fire in Halsin’s secret cache while he allowed you a smaller space to acclimate to when you’d first arrive. You remember the feeling of large, gentle hands cradling your small, vulpine body in comfort as you slept. 

It’s at that moment that you hear the scuff of loud, fast foot fall on the decrepit stairs that lead down to this sodden prison. It’s followed by heavy, hurried sloshing before, as if out of thin air, Halsin stands before you. His hands are wrapped around the thick, stone bars of your enclosure so tightly that they are white at the knuckles. His broad chest rises and falls with exertion; or is that emotion? It is hard to know. 

He looks…utterly stricken. So much so that you wonder what happened to devastate him. Did he get back to The Grove to find all of the tieflings slaughtered? Did the tieflings rise up and destroy the grove before the Rite of Thorns could be finished? 

He opens his mouth and you expect terrible news–expect the worst. 

“A-are you alright?” is what he chokes out instead. 

You’re quiet for a moment; the question not making sense to you. Why in the world would he care if you were alright? You were…nobody. A druidic adept that found much more comfort tucked into a nest of blankets than anything else. You’d failed to stop the Rite. You’d failed at almost everything in your life so far. 

Has he…is it too dark down here? Does he think he’s talking to someone else? 

He grits his teeth and starts to wrestle with the door to your cell. 

Its mechanism is like the others in the temple; controlled by a stone tablet which should be placed in the proper slot and then activated with druidic magic. But he’s trying to use his own raw strength to open it. 

“Forgive me,” he grunts as the stone actually begins to give way, heeding his command. “I should have never left you here while The Grove was tangled in so much unrest. Had I thought the Kagha…had I known–”

“Archdruid,” you stammer. “You’re going to hurt yourself–”

“I care not,” he says, his tone taking on an almost ferocious quality that has you lifting your shoulders and shrinking into yourself. “It is you I am most concerned for. You had only just begun to smile and I– because of my negligence I find you entrapped all over again.”

Your mouth drops open as you realize that he actually came down here looking for you. Specifically to find you. To save you again. 

You are small; practically half the size of the archdruid. Yet, you suddenly recognize that he is trying to free you and you are just sitting there like some kind of dead fish. You stand to your feet and hurry over to the bars, grasping two of the other juts of stone and pulling it as he pushes. 

You’re not sure, but for a moment you think you see the barest ghost of a smile before his teeth clench again with effort. 

When the door is finally forced open a few inches, you release the stone. You roll your shoulders, shake out the tension in your hands. You will yourself to become smaller, to become lithe. You will your mouth to grow sharp, unforgiving teeth. You become vulpine. 

You slosh through the water on four padded feet and dash through the opening. 

For a moment, you almost flee up the stairs, ready to retreat to the fresh salty air outside. Ready to resign yourself to life as a fox. 

But Halsin drops to his knees and you look at him as he looks at you. 

He reaches a hand out to you, and you see the faint, silvery scars on his forearm from where you tore into him on the day you met. You sniff at him for a moment, then you shift back to your human form, carefully cradling his arm in your hands. 

“Did it get infected?” you ask. “After I gnawed at you?”

His brow is low and lips turn down at the corners. 

“No,” he says. 

“I don’t understand,” you say. “You shouldn’t have scarred…you should have been able to simply heal yourself.”

“I was able,” he says. “But I was unwilling. I…I didn’t want to forget.”

You look up at him. “Why?” you ask. 

There is the sound of chaos from up the stairs. You turn your head, letting your ears tune into the finer details of it as the quiet ambience of the water dripping and sloshing around you obscures it. As your focus narrows, you hear her. 

“She’s back,” Halsin sneers. “Kagha has finally returned.”

You look at him, your eyes wide as if you’re seeing him for the first time. The expression on his face is nothing short of raw, wild fury. He is the snarl of a wolf, he is the crackle of wildfire, he is the dark promise of death in a row of pointed teeth. 

He draws his arm back, stopping to take both of your small hands in his. His expression softens. “I will tell all,” he says. “But not before I punish the one who did this to you. Not before I see justice properly served for all of the disarray and cruelty enacted in my absence.”

You try to find a way to answer, but you can’t, settling instead for a dumbfounded nod. 

He stands and, once at his full height, shifts the position of his hand to cradle yours; offering you help, but also offering you the chance to help yourself. You grasp that hand and he tightens the muscles of his arms as you use his strength and stability to get yourself back up to your feet. 

“I am loathe to leave you down in this terrible place…but if you’re too frightened to face her…” he offers. 

“I’m not…” you say. “O-or at least I won’t be…not with you there.”

He graces you with the first real smile he’s given you since he suddenly appeared before you and you think you may no longer need the sun if he can continue looking at you just like that. 

“Come,” he says. “I want you to be part of this discussion.”

You follow Halsin, dwarfed in his shadow as you ascend the craggy steps, your soft leather shoes uncomfortably soggy and embarrassingly loud as you go. It feels almost surreal to be acknowledged by Halsin. Even more strange that he remembers you–that he seemed to have come to seek you out before anything else. 

There are more questions than answers immediately available, and you’re not sure you’ll have the nerve to ask those questions when all is said and done. 

When Halsin reaches the top of the stairs, he stops and looks back at you, giving you a calm smile as you quicken the pace of your last few steps to catch up with you. 

Now that you’re in better light, his brow faintly tenses and he reaches out for you. You go utterly still as he places two of his fingertips under the very tip of your chin, using the most minute bit of pressure to turn your face. 

“You’re hurt,” he says. “I didn’t see it in the darkness of the cells.”

You’d forgotten about the injury on your face–it’s not one you’d actually gotten to see before you were imprisoned, but you’d felt it throbbing for the entire day you were there. 

“It’s just a bruise,” you say. 

He removes his hand from beneath your chin and draws those same finger tips carefully over the curve of your brow. You wince slightly as he touches the most tender part and shakes his head. 

“There’s a split in your brow,” he says. “It will scar…”

You heave a little breathy chuckle. “Perhaps it will make me look more distinguished,” you say as you meet his hazel eyes. “You certainly wear them well.”

His heartbroken expression eases up and he shakes his head, hesitant amusement on his face. “If I wear them well, then you’ll be exquisite as ever with your own,” he says. “Still–that you were hurt because of my absence–”

“The fox was caught sticking it’s nose where it didn’t belong and was appropriately punished for it,” A familiar, haughty voice interrupts. “Don’t let the little bandit fill your head with untruths.”

Halsin takes your hand in his and pulls you slightly behind him as he also moves to block you from Kagha’s sight. It’s a protective measure, but he doesn’t force you to hide. Instead, it feels like he’s asserting his position as your protector–as the protector of any who are weaker than him–while allowing your agency to remain intact should you wish to take the lead.

“I don’t want to hear about your paranoia Kagha–I’ve heard enough of it to turn my stomach,” he says, that gravelly voice gaining an almost abrasive quality. “Tell me why I shouldn’t turn you out–or hand you over the shadow druids you’ve been cavorting with?” 

You watch as Kagha goes pale and your stomach churns with a dizzying mixture of nausea and fear. 

The shadow druids. The order of druidic magic that lay closest to the dark. The drow, the deep gnomes, Shar. Everything that represents the terror you’d once experienced crammed into a too-small cage. 

How could she? How could she want to work with them?! And then to have a nerve to call you a fox in the hen house. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you say, your voice quiet but steady. “I was only looking for a way to convince you that we needn’t go through with the ritee…”

“By snooping in places you DON'T belong,” Kagha says. 

“Perhaps it is you who does not belong here,” you snap. 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Halsin growls. “You do not deserve to remain here, yet it is Nature who will determine what becomes of you. One thing is certain: my teachings have clearly not made the difference here. You are to start anew—be made a novice once again.”

“You can’t do that—“ Kagha starts. 

“I am the First Druid in this Grove and I will do whatever I see fit to protect the people who call this place their home!” Halsin booms. “Kagha, you failed me. You failed everyone who relied on you!”

“That fox is an outsider. Ever since you pulled it in by its scruff it has done nothing but consume priceless resources and shrink into the corner like a frightened rodent. If you so crave balance—“

“Enough!” Halsin barks. “I will hear no more of this.”

“But—“ Kagha says. 

“I said enough. Get out of my sight before I lose hold of my humanity and tear you to shreds,” Halsin snarled. 

He says it loudly and deeply enough that it echoes in the stone chamber. Even you flinch a bit at the sudden fury coming off of him. You can almost smell it coming off of him–the adrenaline, the willingness to fight and gnash at Kagha. 

Kagha has the good sense to dip her head in deference. 

“Understood, First Druid Halsin,” she says. 

“Good,” he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Now. Apologize.”

Her head snaps up again and her gaze slides over to you, sharp as an arrowhead. The silence between you carries the same anticipatory nausea of waiting for a cobra to strike. You can sense quite well that Kagha may be properly chastened for her actions in the grove, but her opinion of you seems to remain the same. 

Pathetic, you remember. That’s what you are to her. 

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’m just happy to be free again.”

“No,” he commands. “It is not fine. You did what was right and were punished for it. Kagha. Will. Apologize.”

Your heart stutters and pounds in your ears. You know Halsin means well. You know he is angry on your behalf, and that he wants to see you treated kindly, but you don’t like confrontation.You think that ferocity is meant to be directed to Kagha, but you’re not entirely sure. Flashes of terror and confusion climb out of the burial ground of your mind. Memories of a cramped cage, the smell of blood, the sound of pained mewling, angry shouting in a language you don’t understand and the pain of punishment when a command you didn’t understand was not followed.

You don’t want this display; you do not want to be the vehicle of this lesson. You don’t want to rock the boat unless the situation is absolutely dire; especially now that you’ve proven just how little efficacy you have when you insert yourself into the matters of people who do not like you or simply have more investment in their own interests than in the interests of the collective. It feels like a leg snare waiting to lock down on you and you’re not sure you can escape it this time.

The tension between Halsin and Kagha sings at a tenor that pierces your ears. Or is that your adrenaline? You’re not sure. Whatever it is, your muscles are sore and aching; wound tightly and ready to spring at the first sight of danger; the first sign of movement toward you.

Halsin spares a glance your way, perhaps sensing that growing tension. Your eyes dart up to his as your body starts to tremble, not with fear, but with the urge to act. You are a small, scrappy creature locked in a stand-off with a larger predator. 

His expression softens, looking almost apologetic. 

“Easy, little one,” he says as he reaches his hand out to touch you. 

Your mind is more feral than human by then. Just before he can actually touch you, you drop into a crouch and dart away from him, your heart hammering painfully against your sternum like an animal backed in a cage. You feel that wild urge to scratch, to gnaw, to snarl. 

His expression drops into one of worry, his guilt clear in his expression and in the way he bends at the knees, lowering himself and making himself small like one might when trying to calm an injured animal. 

“You are safe, dear one,” he says. “You are safe.”

You don’t believe him. It doesn’t feel safe here, not anymore. Perhaps never again. 

A sound comes from behind you and you lurch forward, losing your footing on your slick, damp boots, falling hard onto the palms of your hands before you get back up to your feet and fly through the old temple and scrambling out of the door. 

You simply run, your mind a blur of colors and raw, terrible fear. You can’t even register and savor the feeling of the sun on your skin or the sweet, salty breeze coming off of the lower cove. You run, and run, and run until familiar sights bleed into unfamiliar ones; until the wound up tension in your muscles gives way to trembling exhaustion. 

You don’t immediately recognize where you are, but you find a little alcove tucked into a glen of oak trees, their trunks fat with age and their canopies heavy with acorns and boughs full of leaves. 

The sun shines through the eaves, coloring the long grasses in deep emeralds and dappled yellow light. You sit against one of the trees, feeling the steady presence of Sylvanus as you gulp in desperate, exhausted breaths, your heart still hammering loudly in your ears. You rest your head back against the tree and close your eyes for just a moment. You breathe, and then you breathe again. Distance from the grove gives you a moment to realize just what being in that place was doing to you. 

The politics, the prejudice, the precarious balance between the available resources and the people who needed them most. You always do better on your own. There’s a reason the form of a fox comes to you most naturally; they aren’t pack animals. As it so happens, apparently, neither are you. 

So why had you stayed so long? 

The fear of being captured again, perhaps. 

Or maybe it was the Teiflings–you’d found a little group of friends among them; enjoyed sharing a drink with Dammon once in a while. 

But neither of those seem to ring true for you, in reality. 

No, what really seems to be the reason is the other part of foxes that makes the most sense to you. 

That they tend to find a mate, have a family, and remain with them for life. 

A reality you’d spent the last several years trying to avoid. Because there was only really one person keeping you at the grove. And that person was Halsin. 

He’s just…

He’s everything you wish you could be. 

He’s everything you wish you could have.

But you can’t. Because at the end of the day you’re just some animal, fleeing the first offer of help and biting down on the hand that feeds you. There’s regret in this moment. Regret that you will never get to inquire about the expressions on Halsin’s face; about the reasons he came to free you so quickly. 

But the regret gives way to exhaustion and as you soak in the speckled rays of sunlight, feeling truly warmed for the first time in days–perhaps even weeks–you drift into a dreamless sleep. 

It’s the quiet sound of metal against wood that wakes you. 

The manner in which you wake is not a lurch; not an abrupt burst of movement that feels like you’re gasping for air. It’s the slow, soft blinking of an afternoon nap becoming an evening laze. In breathe in through your nose, slow and deep, faintly aware of the feeling of soft fur against your bare feet. 

You feel swaddled by warmth. Wrapped in the familiar scents of clove, moss and tobacco. 

You finally open your eyes and find a fire crackling before you, hemmed in by stones half-darkened by clay, as if someone collected them recently to guard the oaks from the danger of an unkempt flame. 

You don’t put it together at first that you’ve been moved; specifically that you’ve been laid down within a comfortable bedroll. That the smell infused into the furs is comforting because of the man sitting not even a few feet away; the source of the sound of metal against wood. 

You crane your head up to find him. Halsin Silverbough quietly focused on a block of soft wood, whittling away at it. You just watch him for a few seconds, almost dazed that he’s here with you. 

“Is this a dream?” You ask. 

His knife slips a little clumsily, he hadn’t noticed you were awake. He drops his hands into his lap and turns his head to smile down at you. 

“Do I often visit you in your dreams, dear heart?” he asks. 

Hearing that gravelly timbre and that tender pet name sets your blood on fire. You feel a flush rising to your face and you can’t keep from bringing the covers up to hide the evidence. His eyes crinkle with mirth and he lets out a pleasant, easy laugh. The easiest you’ve heard him laugh in…well, ever. 

“Forgive me for laughing,” he says, setting his little project aside. “You gave me quite a scare when you ran off like that. But I suppose I can’t blame you for reacting that way…I know how hard it is for you when tension is high. Forgive me for being inconsiderate of those feelings by making you the instrument of Kagha’s repentance.”

You’re quiet for a long time, unsure what to say. You finally settle for, “How far did I run?”

His brows rise a bit and he heaves out a bit of a grumbling breath as he thinks about it. “Hard for me to ever tell how long a distance is, but we’re somewhere near the goblin camp at that old temple of Selune,” he says. “Lucky for us that I cleared it with a group of adventurers today. Otherwise, I fear I would have made things much worse for you by tackling you down before you could get too close to their camp.”

You bite the inside of your lip, trying not to imagine your body tangling with his. Your face is red enough. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you say, still beneath the covers. “I was so devastated when you didn’t come back from the goblin camp.”

“I’ve been worrying about you since I left,” he says. “I was…I wasn’t behaving calmly when I found you. I wasn’t acting in a way befitting a First Druid.”

“No one is above their own natural drives,” you say. “Anger is a natural reaction to disobedience.”

He looks at you, his brow creasing. “You think I was angry because Kagha disobeyed me?” he says. 

“It’s as good a reason as any,” you say. 

He inhales. Hesitates. Then inhales again before saying, “You asked me about the scars on my arm. Why I didn’t want to forget them.”

“Yes,” you say. “But then Kagha came back…”

“I know,” he says. “But I’d like to answer that question now. Now that I’m calm.”

There’s something in his gaze that feels heavy and significant. You slowly rise from your position tucked away in the bedroll, letting the furs fall away from you. You notice, now, that your damp boots have been placed on the other side of the fire to dry, along with your socks. A small act of care a lesser man may have never thought to do for you. 

You turn to face Halsin and he turns to face you. 

“When we found you…that day with the drow,” he says. “You…reminded me of something I went through as a young adept. A time in which I was kept as an unwilling guest in a drow lord’s estate. As time goes on, it’s easy to forget those things that have happened to me, or to minimize what I went through. 

“In truth, I admired you. I admired how you snarled and gnashed at my hand when you were barely the size of my forearm. I admired the way you reached out for care when I housed you while you got back on your feet…for a while I feared that you were never going to heal. But then I realized that you were strong in a different way…in a way that I was not.”

“I’m not strong,” you say, shaking your head. 

“You are,” he insists. “Strength is not only measured in brute force. It’s not measured in violence and demands and power. It’s in how you wake up every day, how you rise out of your bed and try to be better than the day before. What I experienced…I shoved it deep down inside of me until the pain was forgotten, but I watched you facing yours every day.”

You’re shocked to hear this, because in your recollection you struggled each day. In the beginning, you were frightened of everyone and everything, and the only thing that allowed you to function at all was the desire to be worth the effort Halsin made in saving you. 

“Then…then I learned of you trying to stop the Rite of Thorns, and of you winding up imprisoned again in the very place you should have been safest,” he says, his anger a quiet undercurrent as he remembers newly. “I was so terrified that you would fully retreat back inside yourself, but then you stood and put your small hands on the stone door, snarling at your entrapments just as you were that day I met you.”

You remember his smile, a brief flash when you came to help. 

“Am I still strong if I run away from the grove?” you ask. 

“You wish to leave?” he asks. 

“...I’ve realized, Halsin,” you say, your voice quivering. “I’m not well suited for the social hurdles involved with remaining with the druids…and that the only reason I’ve stayed is because…”

You swallow tightly, words lodging in your throat. Halsin is silent, ever patient as he waits for you to speak. 

“Halsin, I have loved you for some time now, I think,” you say. “I know that I am young and that I can’t hope to compete with your past lovers or even the braver druids back at the grove. I know that you hardly have the time for romance, and that even if you did, you likely wouldn’t spend that precious time with me–”

“Hah…you sound so certain,” he says, his voice quiet and contemplative. 

It’s your turn to be silent, now. You bring your gaze up to meet his again and he is smiling so gently at you. “The only reason,” he says finally, “the only reason that I have not invited you to my bed is that I didn’t want to cause you inadvertent harm by placing pressure on you that you wouldn’t have the resolve to deflect. I didn’t want to risk my position as the first druid making you feel as if you couldn’t say no to me.”

You blink, the world coming to a screeching halt around you. 

Halsin…wants you? You?

You shake your head, feeling your face begin to blaze like you’ve come down with a fever. 

“Well, I suppose it’s moot,” you say. “I can’t expect you to leave the Emerald Grove with me.”

“You don’t have to,” he says. “I’ve already left.”

“What?” you say. 

“Did you think I packed a bedroll and a pack just to come retrieve you?” he says through a chuckle before he heaves out a rough sigh. “No, truth be told, my heart, I have long become disillusioned with my place among the druids in the grove and with you and the ache of old pains, I can no longer say that my heart is fully in it. The adventurers who released me…they are making their way to the shadowlands and I hope that if I join them, I can undo an old failure from a century ago. Finally heal the ache instead of simply avoiding it. I’m hoping that I can be more like you.”

You feel breathless for a moment, even more so when his eyes lock on yours. 

“It will be frightening, my love,” he says. “The shadow curse makes the underdark look like a stroll after midnight. But if you still feel the way you’ve told me you do and if you can trust me to continue protecting you, I would have you in my tent with me greeting each day together.”

You don’t speak, not because you’re uncertain, but because you want to savor this moment. 

Halsin loves you.

The bear has fallen for the fox. 

And he wants you by his side. 

It is the purest bliss you have ever felt. You think you could die happily in the shadow cursed lands if it is a sacrifice you make for him. 

You will protect him. 

And he will protect you. 

“Dear heart,” Halsin says, his nerves coming through his voice. “You torture me by keeping me in suspense. Please know if you don’t wish for this you needn’t agree. I know what I ask of you is–”

“I’m going with you,” you say freeing him from the discomfort you’ve resided in for years. “Of course I’m going with you, Halsin.”

The smile he gives you is nothing short of miraculous. 

“Nature blesses me with you,” he says. “Now come here, I need to enjoy you before I take you to meet the others. I have waited so very long for the opportunity, and I have until nightfall to make good on it, if you will have me.”

The image of your body tangled with his appears in your mind’s eye again. You rise to your feet and stride over to him, slipping your fingers into his wild hair. He cups the back of your thigh with a large hand before coaxing you to sit on his lap. 

Where he kisses you for the very first time.

May the oak father bless you with countless others. 

Taglist|| @itty-bitty-dancer @thoughts-of-bear @tryingtowritestuff24 @drabblesandimagines @soupaisu @ladyoakenshield157 @ladytesla @incrediblethirst @baldurs-gate-simp @themidnighttiger @rayskittles33 @hippiewrites @whisperingwillowxox @ethereal-sk1es @cosywinterevenings @themartiansdaughter @brain-has-left @any59 @madwomansapologist @midnightmoonytales @unaliveoni @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @kellerybird @tiedyedghoulette @jenn-duncan @thelittledoe @esotericeribos @robingreysantos @erwinmybeloved @itdobe-foggy @witchywannabe3263 @kaimxri @cryingoverpixelsetc @theoriginalannoyingbird

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Masterlist

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Chapters linked under the cut:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

[strawberrywinter4]

A Gentleman’s Shrine

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

More under the cut!

Tags: Romance, Slow Burn, Alternative Universe—1920s, Aristocracy, Captain John Watson, Post-World War I, Blood and Violence, PTSD, Period-Typical Homophobia, Explicit Sexual Content, Protective John Watson, BAMF John Watson, Idiots in Love, Falling in Love, Forbidden Love, Age Difference, Case Fic, Some tags not listed

Summary:

Sherlock Holmes has been taught that he has one purpose in life: to carry on the family legacy. “High society is dying,” his mother continuously informs him.

The Great War recently ended, which has left London in a swivel of downfall and success.

Every year when his mother hosts the Noble Legacy Gala, Sherlock wishes he could fall into a rabbit hole and never come up, dreading the pointless event.

That is until he sees Captain Watson attending the Gala, the most beautiful, dangerous, and interesting man he’s ever met.

Read Chapter 1 here!

Playlist

Pinterest Board

Note: Thank you to all who have been so patient to read this. I know I haven’t been active lately, but I promise I’ve been working hard on this, my friends! I hope you all enjoy!

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @thegildedbee @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked @cortina @kettykika78 @johnlockbbc @dapetty @bs2sjh @alihahdnaid @justjayisfine0

(Let me know if you wished to be tagged or not)

[sad-eyed-lady-of-the-paperbacks]

I’m doing a thing! It’s a retelling of the plot of The Brothers Karamazov from Grushenka’s perspective. You can read it on ao3.

[nile-the-empathy-cleric]

More Armand WIPs for Ego Death 👀 I will gush more about the inspiration behind this in the author’s note in chapter 11 (which I’m hoping to finish/ update by next Saturday).

Anyway… I am claustrophobic as fuck but played caving and cave diving disaster videos while I made art??? Most of the time I listen to my 4.5 hour long “yearning” music playlist or watch history video essays but I guess Armand possessed me into watching the thing that terrifies me most lol. I hate drawing feet too… what’s the opposite of a foot f*tish? Foot repulsion? Idk I think it’s why I suck at drawing feet and I’ll have to fix them 😩

[shadowofahope]

Love Revocation

Pairing: ImperialGuard!JungHoseok x Princess!Reader

Premise: Only your brothers would be willing to step in and try to change your future. But history isn't easy to overcome, even if it is all but forgotten.

Word count: 3.5K

Author's note: I've been watching a lot of historical k-dramas and c-dramas lately, and I can say it's an addiction at this point! If you have any favourites feel free to share! I'd love to watch your recommendations as well as talk about any mutual ones we love!

masterlist

One foot infront of the other, the crisp air of the afternoon breeze through your robes and hair, the light chatter of people in the market; it all gave you a bittersweet taste of Deja vu. Times like these felt right, but you had the feeling that nothing looked as it should. It could be the small taste of freedom mixed with the claustrophobic fear being chained somewhere. However, where the other end of the chain was you didn’t know. Or you did once, but it was lost with the rest of your memories from all those years ago. 

You stopped trying to remember after the first two season changes, then you accepted your circumstances and adjusted yourself to where you were. 

Arms full, you smile gracefully at the passing merchants and village people, the ones bowing at you when recognization transpired. You all but skip down the back path heading towards the palace again. 

You promised mother you’d finish her painting of the place father asked for her hand today. You had beeen working on it for her birthday, but you were too excited to wait. So it may have been promised 2 weeks earlier then her day.

However, a shroud voice catches your attention before you make it to the next corner. You stop in your tracks to listen. If living in the palace taught you anything it was ‘to always know the concerns of your people’, were fathers exact words. In otherwords you took it as a sign that it was ok, in most situations to eavesdrop… at least a little. 

“She is being forced to marry the oldest son of the emperor and empress. Her bloodline will muddy just as theirs already is.” A sinik male voice mocked. 

“What do you mean by that?” You heard your brothers fiance ask. She was a headstrong woman. Not only that but she was radiant. The type of woman your brother deserved. 

“Everyone knows the young lady is unfavoured by the gods. So if you bear a child with him your children will be inflicted with the same inability.” This time a female voice chimed in. Just as distasteful as the males.

“The princess is kind, witty, social, politically intelligent, well read, impactful, understanding and unworldly beautiful. Our children will be blessed to have her as their aunt.” Tayla lists, you smile to yourself. She didn’t have to defend your honour so seriosuly, but you silently thanked her none the less. 

“You have your doubts. There is no way you do not feel some worry about tarnishing your family name. Its reputation will be dragged through the land if your children fail to develope as she has. They will be cursed as she is.” 

Anyone talking about your family members however, you just couldn’t let it slide so easily.

“My brothers children will develop into the strongest blood line of these past 1000 years, we are in no need of your concern.” You step in, rounding the corner of the building. Your voice and demeanour remain calm, a smile on your lips as your mother had taught you when it came to political arguments. Remaing calm when the opposing side could not, as strategy she had learned in her youth.

What others said about you didn’t really bother you anymore. As a young child you always felt the sting of their harsh words. Like they were hoping you’d choke on them. But it had the opposite affect. It only drove you to try harder, to learn the ways of the palace. To push yourself past the limits that this life had given you. 

“My lady!” Many courteous greetings are followed by formal bows. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I was out for a walk through the village to get a few supplies.” Holding up the items in your hands, you sidle up to your future sister in law. Taking a step between her and the small circle of ill intended pupils.

“We didn’t mean anything by it. We were just worried she hadn’t thought it through. Or raised concerns” One of the young males spoke quickly. You stifle a scoff, but continue to maintain your composure.

“I’m sure you are.” You eye him carefully, if you weren’t mistaken he was one of the many candidates who wanted Tayla’s hand in marriage. “However as I am not my mother and fathers birth daughter, you’ll be happy to know my genes will die with me.” 

“You are not the child of the Emporer and Empress?” The small crowd gasps in unison. You could laugh at how comical their faces became. 

Even so, amongst the mumbling in front of you there is a faint call from behind you, you turn to her.

“Mother and Father saved me when I was young. Knowing I could not cultivate nor could remember where I had come from or how I ended up where they found me, they showed compassion and mercy upon taking me in and raising me with their children.” You explain to her alone. “I am blessed beyond measure. And your children will hold the greatest of titles. ”

--------

A few days had past since your unexpenctant, informal announcement of your lineage. A very important matter had taken your attention, so you had all but forgotten already. You hear frantic footsteps approach your room. You brace your mind for the inevitable impact that would be your brothers. Your hand doesn’t still as it continues to write on the parchment of your lessons from today. Your doors burst wide open, not bothering to look up at them.

“Are you really planning to take the tether serum?” Your youngest brother demands breathlessly. 

“You’re here earlier then I expected, I am almost surprised.” You smile to yourself. If you had placed money on them discovering your plans, it would not have been until at least a week had past.

“Don’t make light of this.” Your eldest brother scolds from the rear, coming up behind your younger brother, closing the doors to conceal your conversation.

“Why would you make such a thing?” Taehyung's bewilderment is something you had became accustomed to. He somehow always seemed shocked by your actions. Considering how long you had been in the family now, you would have thought he had understood you at least a little.

You let out a deep sigh, the air from your lungs feels cold as it leaves your body into the warm air. 

“I want to be of use to mother and father in the end. Is that so outrageous as to incur your unmistakable wrath?” You choose your words carefully, not wanting to sadden them with todays ongoings but at the same time you know Seokjin’s fiance has already informed him of the other day. 

“We both understand greatly how indebted you feel towards them, but to tether your lifeline to them as someone still young is unheard of.” Seokjin reasons, still standing in the middle of the room, you can see his robes out of your peripheral. Taehyung sits down in the place next to you, trying to get your attention.

“Elder brother is right. If they both pass then so shall you, your soul cannot be separated. You shall serve them into death and upon new life.” His tone turning sorrowful. 

This time you look up at him, then towards your elder. 

“My dear brothers, It’s no secret that no one would marry me before and now with my birth being admitted, I have somehow lost whatever leverage I may have had.”

“That’s not true.” You see the hurt in the youngers eyes, but what you've said is true. You all know it. You give him a sad smile, letting your hand drop the brush, and placing it over his on the table.

“I cannot cultivate. I have no sense of magic or any prowess. My soul has been deemed weak and now people know that I am not the Emperor and Empress' true daughter.” You direct your smile towards Seokjin. “I have been preparing myself for this outcome since we were young. Please, if you cannot understand me then at least accept that this is your sisters wish.”

--------

“The last time the two of you bowed this deeply to us was when you were young children and you and our son had broken a priceless family heirloom while you were training in the halls.” The Emperors longest friend muses from his seat. Him and his wife had known your parents since they were young, they were as close as family. Including their son, who happened to be the same age as you. So all four of you had grown up together.

“Uncle. Auntie. We are here to request an inordinate favour from you. One we know may be impossible for you to agree to, but we must ask this of you.” Seokjin’s whole body is tense. Everything he can do to save you from tethering yourself is hanging on this outcome. 

“What is it?” Your aunt is more curious then worried by their request. Seeing them kneel before them was a shock bigger then they had ever expected. 

Your brothers sit up straight.

“Our sister. As you know she is unable to cultivate. She has no skill in combat. Many have deemed her unworthy to bear our family name.” Seokjin’s voice comes out strong, but his hands are trembling slightly. “However, as you also know. Our sister is competent in the kitchen, and with chores of the home. She is patient and nurturing when she takes care of the palaces many children. She has beautiful skills in the way of art and embroidery. She is generous beyond measure and courteous to others. She deserves to have a future.”

“We both agree. She is a diamond amongst pebbles. But what brings this tone of concern?” Uncle is concerned.

“Our sister has decided to take the tether serum and serve our parents.” Taehyung explains. “We do not know if you have heard the word circling about our sister not being of our blood. But we are here to confirm it. Our parents took her in when I was newly born, she is all I’ve known to be an older sister.”

“We are aware of the talk. We were also there the day your parents found the young lady.” The Uncle assures. “You do not need to worry about our thoughts towards the princess.”

“I am curious to this favour. What do you wish to ask for?” Auntie pushes. 

“Our sister wishes to tether herself for she believes no one will marry her.” Seokjin explains. They bow again in unison, as if they had practiced their movements and speech before appearing. “We ask of you to please propose a marriage contract to the Emporer and Empress between our sister and your son.”

Taehyung cuts in quickly before they can be dismissed.“We know he is your only son, but we beg of you. She respects your son and you, uncle and auntie. There are many things she may be useful for.”

“Useful? She is enough as she is. We know that very well.” Uncle states, making eye contact with his wife. The look of understanding flashing between the two, unseen by the young princes.

“Just as we know our son. He has felt feelings of affection for the young lady for quite some time. You might not know this but she was the reason he decided he wanted to join the guard.” The older woman conceals her giggle behind her hand. “I had never seen such a rambunctious boy turn so serious.”

“He knew?” They both shoot up in surprise. Their friend had never mentioned having any knowledge of your sisters situation. But then again, they had never spoken of this either. 

“Yes. Our son was adamant that he would protect the princess. We could not sway his mind. Though we did not try to. We have never looked down on her because of her situation. She has become a well rounded beautiful woman, our son would be blessed to take her as his wife.” The Lord nods, 

“Does that mean you will agree?” They feel giddy. They could save you.

The older couple share a fond smile. 

“There is something our son has been drawn to since he was a young boy. We believe your sister is the key to his happiness.” 

--------

“Hoseok, what are you doing here?” You beam, controlling your feet to not skip your way over to him. A lady never skips…at least not in front of others.

“Princess” He greets you with a bow and warm smile as he always does. “I was summoned by the Emperor and Empress. Why have you come?” 

“I was requested by Uncle and Auntie to meet them here.” You explain. “What is going on? Do you think its about Mothers birthday feast tomorrow?” 

“I’m not sure, but we should not keep them waiting. Let us go in.” He opens the doors and waits for you to enter first.

You hurry in, smiles directed at your parents then your uncle and aunt. 

A large round table adorned with vast plates of food, both your fathers sat near the far end laughing and chatting away, raising a drink to eachother. Your mothers seated next to their husbands also tremendously cheerful. 

You share a quick glance before bowing. 

“Emperor. Empress.” He greets first.

“Uncle. Auntie.” You greet directly after. 

“Children! Come in! Have a seat.” You father cheers happily. Your aunt waves a hand over to you for you to sit next to her. 

You bound over to sit next to your aunt. Which just so happens to be next to Hoseok as well.

“We are celebrating this evening.” Your mother informs, her attention on him.

“What are we celebrating Empress?” Formality laced in his words. It made you smile, even if he was like another son to your parents he highly respected them. 

“Lord and Lady Jung, have come to us with a proposal contract and we have agreed.” The Emporer boisterously exclaims.

“I’m sorry, Father and Mother I fear I do not comprehend.” You express, eye brows coming to meet in a frown. 

You see a flash of something cross Hoseoks face, but you stay focused on your looking between your parents. 

Your Aunt grabs both your hands, placing them in the space between you and forcing you to face her.

“The Emporer and emperess have accepted our proposal for our son and you to be wed.” She cheers brightly, hands giving yours a light squeeze.

“I’m to marry-?” You look back at him. Scared to see panic or disgust or even rage on his dazzling features. But there isn’t any sign of darkening. Only red tinted ears give away any emotions he’s feeling. That in itself leaves you astonished adn shaken. 

Words of wedding ceremonies are abrupt in your ears. The pattern of the bedding for your marriage suite. 

“But, Uncle, auntie. I’m not worthy of marrying your son.” You say it like it is a definite fact, interrupting their excited remarks. 

“Nonsense!” Your father bellows, a bright smile never leaving his face, he places his arm around his long term friend, who shares an equally blinding smile. “You two shall be wed! It is a beautiful idea, one I wish we had thought of sooner.” 

The laughter from the elders erupts once again, leaving you shell shocked. Remaining quiet you can’t bring yourself to look at anyone, opting to stare at the oak table in front of you. How did these events happen? You had just made the choice to…

A sinking feeling hits you all at once. Your brothers. They were the only ones that knew of your plans, other then the physician you had asked the tether serum about. They would be the ones to try to stop you. 

You’d deal with them after this dinner. You’d confront them and talk to Hoseok about his rejecting the marriage proposal. 

You just had to sit nicely until then.

--------

“What did you do?!” You stormed into the study room the next day, you knew your brothers had hidden themselves away. They always resided in the same place to try to escape you when they had done something they knew you would be unhappy with. You had been followed by Hoseok on your way there when you mentioned you were confronting your brothers, upon meeting him that morning.

“Sister. This is a study room. Please refrain from raising your voice.” Your oldest mock scolding you, book in hand.

“Then answer me. I know it was the two of you that have provoked the marriage idea.” You were pulling back your seething temper, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. 

“Princess~” Hoseok calls calmly from behind you. You could feel him close behind you, not touching but close enough that you felt like you could breathe.

“What all of our parents decide to do we do not hold any influence over. You know as well as anyone.” Seokjin scoffs. The audacity he had to play ignorant at this moment was appalling. 

“We may have brought up the idea of a union.” Taehyung supplies from the far end of the room. 

“Why would you do this?” Exasperation seeps out of you. There was no point in hiding your displeasure or annoyance at these two. “You know I wish to be tethered.”

“Tethered?” Hoseok speaks again. “Who were you to be tethered to?”

“Mother and Father.” You state, angry eyes set on your brothers, but also not wishing to elaborate. This isn’t how you wanted him to find out. You were all childhood friends, you wanted to tell him yourself when he had time away from his duties in the guard.

“She believes no one shall love her because she is unable to cultivate. She believes she is not worth dotting on.” Your elder brother chimes in, closing his book and sauntering over to you. “But that’s not true. Is it Hoseok?“

“No. It’s not.” Your childhood friends voice is stern, you had never heard it like this before, at least not targeted at you. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Is this why you wanted me to talk my parents out of this marriage?”

“I wanted to be tethered to mother and father because I wish to serve them for eternity.” Your jaw tense. Your core feeling as it had turned into stone. 

“Look at me.” You have never heard his voice so cold and low, not even when he was at work. Something in you makes it impossible to deny him, so you do as he orders. You can see the fire behind his eyes, before your allow the flames to consume you you look towards the chilled marble ground. You hear muffled voices of your brother behind you but you can’t react. You feel warm fingers gently push your chin up ever so gently, forcing you to make eye contact. “Princess. Y/n. Is that really why?”

Your voice catches in your throat. A cough threatening to scratch its way out of you. “I am not like others. I cannot contribute to a high class home as I should. I’m…. broken.”

You had never felt so weak as you did in that moment, not since the days yo uhad been found. You could never lie to him. Not once. 

He studies your face, searching for something. “Is it the worst to be betrothed to me?”

“What?” His question catches you off guard. You blink at him in confusion. Of course, you knew he would be angry at your decision, or at the very least angry with you for not trusting in him to discuss it. 

“I can understand if you wish not to be wed to me because you do not think I’m adequate.” His voice soft like the look in his eyes. Soothing your anger towards your brothers in a instant, your only focus on him and the sad smile on his lips.

“That is ridiculous. I would not want it to be promised to any one else in this entire kingdom.” Why do you feel breathless? 

“Good.” His hand slips away from your skin. For a mere second, you miss the contact before realizing what you said. Your face burns with embarrassment, your eyes scrunching closed at how idiotic you sounded to yourself. Had you lost your mind? “Then I will discuss with our parents for the ceremony to be held as soon as possible.”

The shock brings you back out of your inner reprimanding. But before you can formulate words he’s bowing to your brothers and then you and he’s gone.

“W-what just happened?” Your mind struggles to catch up. 

Hearing your brothers snicker at you doesn’t’ help, you’re still frozen in place. Frozen staring at the now closed doors that Hoseok, your childhood friend, had left through. 

Seokjins full laugh fills the room. “Looks like you’ll be a little bride faster than I will be a groom.” 

masterlist

[skitskatdacat63]

I apologize for how incredibly specific and niche this is, but aahhhh whenever people call rbr Seb a "boy king", I can literally only think about this statuette:

1. Because I think it gives the same angelic but mischievous vibe as Seb

2. Because it is a statue of a literal boy king

3. The ringlets and big eyes.....

[enbylestat]

Mina (Harker)'s Diary

Chapters: 33/? Fandom: Dracula - Bram Stoker (Novel 1897) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jonathan Harker/Mina Murray Harker, Mina Murray Harker/Lucy Westenra Characters: Mina Murray Harker, Jonathan Harker, Lucy Westenra (Dracula), John Seward (Mentioned), Lucy Westenra's Mother, Sister Agatha (dracula) Additional Tags: Inspired by Dracula - Bram Stoker (Novel 1897), Book compliant, Bisexuality, Period Typical Attitudes, south asian mina murray, 1890s, Historical References, Historical Inaccuracy, Slow Burn, Epistolary, POV Multiple, Historical Accuracy, polycule, Polyamory, Threesome - F/F/M, (in the emotional sense), Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Racism, Internalized Biphobia, Internalized Misogyny, Gothic, Horror, Dreams and Nightmares, References to Dracula - Bram Stoker (Novel 1897) Series: Part 1 of Accounts of Carpathian Vampire Summary: Inspired by Re: Dracula and Dracula Daily, a semi-weekly updated fan fiction from mostly Mina's perspective. Exploring themes of found family, heroism, love, relationships, perspective, slaying the monster whilst fighting your own and more…

Happy 127th to the most lovely bi4bi (1890s) couple, no bad adaptation or lecherous vampire can stop them for long!

[nuttersinc]

Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Explicit Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Series: Part 19 of Got To Get You (Into My Life) - Kinkalot Series 2021

Call out the instigators Because there's something in the air We got to get together sooner or later Because the revolution's here

A club, some police raids, a romantic seaside trip to Kent and a pioneering protest: It's 1970, and police harrassment of queer people is everywhere. After mostly having lived their love in secret, Merlin and Arthur explore their relationship both in public and private.

[amandacanwrite]

Violet Thread of Fate || Part Five : A Kiss

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist

POV || 3rd Person Gender Neutral Tav (The Fox from The Fox and The Bear) x Halsin Silverbough

Scenario|| Elinna Inklynn is an orphan with an uncanny ability to mess up even the simplest of spells. It’s not her fault; she hasn’t ever had access to a proper teacher. But she has had access to books, and she’s read about a certain gentleman wizard in Waterdeep that may just be willing to help her.

She books passage on a ship from the Moonshae Islands and sails to Waterdeep, only to be rejected by Gale Dekarios. He doesn’t take on apprentices.

But their paths become inextricably intertwined when an enormous Nautiloid targets the City of Splendors.

Word Count || Just under 4,000 words

Warnings || Mentions of abuse and neglect. 18+ content, minors DNI. Mutual oral, teasing, size difference. Please let me know if I've neglected anything.

A/N || Hello, I return from the grave with prezzies. Many of you read my halsinxtav fic and now they are in Violet Thread of Fate officially! I have had a very chaotic four months, but things are beginning to stabilize, luckily. I will make a post shortly catching you all up on the everything!

Taglist || @verba-writing @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays  @nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic

THIS CHAPTER IS EXPLICIT. MINORS DNI!!

A Kiss

Briar woke up to the feeling of feather soft kisses on the curve of their narrow shoulder. 

They still weren’t used to this reality; one in which Halsin took every moment he could to indulge in them. But it was always a pleasant thing to wake up to. 

A large, rough-hewn hand took the place of those kisses, smoothing a path down their arm. They felt pleasantly dwarfed by Halsin’s touch, their skin warming in a low intensity flush–as if Halsin carried the very essence of the sun in his fingertips. 

A low burn in Briar’s belly joined that warmth as Halsin tangled his fingers with theirs and kissed up the curve of their neck. 

His voice was a low rumble in Briars ear, hot breath making the back of their neck prickle. 

“Are you awake, my heart?” he asked. 

“Reluctantly…” Briar admitted, their lashes fluttering as they turned onto their back to look up at their lover. 

He was there, propped up on his elbow and looking down at them. His hair was unbound and hanging around his face in gentle, undulating waves. Briar loved it when Halsin’s hair was down and wild. Loved it in a way they could scarcely admit until recently…until Halsin had finally told them that he’d wanted for them in the very same way they had wanted for him. Until that balmy afternoon when they’d kissed under the dappled shade of an oak tree. Until that kiss became deeper and more and…

“Perhaps there’s some way I could help you embrace the rising sun with a bit more enthusiasm?” He offered playfully. 

“I will remind you that foxes are nocturnal creatures,” they responded. 

“Mmn–as you remind me most mornings,” he teased. “I’m beginning to sense a theme.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Briar said, feigning that it was a great affront to their honor.

Halsin’s smile took on a sharper, hungrier quality. He released Briar’s hand and smoothed it over their bare belly before scooping them into his arms and adjusting them onto their back. He leaned in closer until Briar could smell the gentle aromas of tobacco and pinewood coming off of his skin. “And just what am I implying, little fox?” he said. 

That low burn intensified into something warmer than sunlight–something more akin to the hot smolder of a campfire. 

“That I am misrepresenting my sleepiness in order to get something out of you…” Briar said, their voice dropping down nearly a full octave. 

“And what do you have to get out of me, little fox?” he asked. 

Briar shrank into the bedroll beneath them, feeling their face warm as they pressed their lips together. 

Halsin tilted his head and let out a warm, mirthful laugh. “My heart,” he said. “After the many times we’ve indulged in each other’s bodies…you would think you would be more comfortable with telling me what you want. We don’t even sleep fully clothed most nights.”

Briar looked askance before lifting their thumbnail to their teeth and gnawing at it. Halsin lifted his hand to catch their wrist and pull their hand away. “You don’t need to avoid me, my love.”

Briar looked back up at Halsin and let out an exhale. “I know I don’t…” they said. “I suppose that I…I just…”

Halsin looked at them intently, ever patient as they worked out the finer points of what they were feeling. While he waited, he smoothed his hand through Briar’s wild tangle of hair, knowing how it soothed them. 

As Briar closed their eyes and allowed themselves to calm, the thoughts started to come together a little easier; a little more clearly. 

“It still doesn’t feel right…” they finally said. “To want things with you…to tell you that I want you. It still feels like you’ll wake up tomorrow and realize how ill suited I am for you.”

“Ill suited?” he asked. “You needn’t suit me. You’re not a tunic, or a piece of armor. You’re an individual–you’re entirely your own being and beautifully crafted by nature. If anything, I am lucky that you’ve taken such an interest in me.”

“I’m sure there are people at the grove who would disagree,” Briar said. 

“And those people are not ones I wish to interact with–moreover, they aren’t me,” he insisted. “I’m here because I love you–not someone’s opinion of you. I’m not doing you a favor by choosing you as the one I share my bed and my life with–so long as you’ll have me.”

“I can’t even imagine a day where I wouldn’t have you,” Briar said. 

“Well, then, we’re in agreement, aren’t we?” Halsin said, his smile gentle. “So, dear heart…what do you wish to get out of me? Tell me your desire. Whatever could you be leveraging these lazy mornings to get out of me?”

Briar’s chest started to rise and fall with a newly stoked want. They lifted a hand and brushed it gently over the strong line of Halsin’s jaw, smoothing their lithe fingers into his loose hair. 

“I want you,” they said. 

Halsin’s eyes went faintly hooded. “Tell me more,” he said. “Tell me how you want me. Tell me where.”

They let out a shuddering breath willing themselves to find the words inside of them. They were so used to going at whatever pace was set by their lovers. They were usually happy to simply be participating–to have even gotten an invitation to enjoy someone’s body in the most intimate way. 

It was not something Halsin was willing to abide, however. 

Despite little more than a tenday passing since Halsin and Briar had left the grove, they had enjoyed each other plenty of times in varying degrees of intensity, at various points of the day. They’d lovingly explored each other. Halsin was happy to take the lead at first, at least that was how it seemed to Briar. But for the past few days, he had encouraged them to be more vocal–more clear. 

It was not at all what they were used to with a partner. And it was proving to be one of the more challenging things about their seedling union. 

“I can’t…” they said, feeling sheepish as they always did. 

“You can, my heart,” Halsin said tenderly. “And you will be rewarded for doing so. Tell me how I’m to enjoy your body today and I will happily oblige you.”

Briar swallowed dryly, feeling their flush spread to their pointed ears as they nodded. 

Halsin wound one of Briar’s curls around his index finger as he waited patiently for their answer. Briar did their best not to collapse into themselves as they worked up the nerve to speak. 

“I want to be…” they said, their voice quiet. “T-tasted by you…again.”

Halsin nodded, as if discussing what they should have for breakfast once they stumbled out of their tent together. “And what shall I taste, dear heart?” he asked. 

“My chest,” they said breathlessly. 

“I do so love to kiss you there,” Halsin agreed as he adjusted himself to lean over Briar, bracketing them between his large, strong arms. 

Briar found themself distracted by the feeling of something stiff against the curve of their inner thigh. “Where else?” Halsin asked. 

“M-my stomach,” they whispered–not because they were shy–but because they were  losing command of the parts of their mind that enabled them to speak. Something far more primal–far more wild–was taking over. 

“You spoil me,” Halsin cooed. “Is that where you wish for me to stop?”

Briar shook their head, almost panting now. “Lower,” they said. “I want you to taste me.”

Halsin let out an aroused breath of his own, the exhale pulling a low growl along with it. “You are providing me with a veritable feast,” he rumbled. “How lucky for me that it shall leave us both sated.”

Halsin closed the distance that still remained between the two of them and pressed a soft kiss to Briar’s parted lips. It was a gentle one–they always started gentle, Briar had learned. Their lower lip was captured between halsin’s. Briar brushed the tip of their tong against the edge of Halsin’s upper lip, and Halsin renewed the kiss again, rolling his insistent tongue into their mouth. 

Briar’s voice sounded–trilling and reedy. They set their hands on Halsin’s shoulders and smoothed them over the curving musculature of his arms. Their thumb brushed over the prominent vein on the inside of his bicep–a little detail they’d often fixated on back before they’d known Halsin desired them in the same way.

Briar seized his lower lip between their teeth and suckled on the supple curve of it, drawing a delightful growl from the archdruid. Halsin’s hands smoothed pleasantly heavy paths over Briar’s sides, his palms digging into the softer planes of their body, his thumbs gently pressing against the crests of their hip bones. 

Briar let out a soft, melodic sound as they exhaled through their nose, long lashes fluttering as they surrendered once again to the intoxicating feeling of being touched by Halsin. Each time they made love it was like being touched for the first time for Brair. Each time was just as thrilling as the first time. 

Halsin parted from the kiss and brushed the tip of his nose against Briar’s, smiling contentedly before continuing. He kissed the gentle curve of Briars cheek, the point where their neck met the elegant column of their neck, the hollow of their collar bone, the sloping curve of their chest. 

Briar let out a soft breath, the heat in their stomach starting to spread in a tingling ripple through their body. That heat traveled to the tips of their toes, the ends of their fingers, the shell of their ears. Their freckled skin donned a rosy, bronze flush across their shoulders; their cheeks. That same heat caused their slackened lips to swell and made the soft mounds of their nipples blissfully sensitive as Halsin captured one of them between his lips. 

Briar inhaled sharply as that gentle sensation came to a sharpened crescendo when Halsin gently caught the hardening bud between his teeth. 

They combed their fingers through Halsin’s loose hair, gathering some of it in their hand as they looked at him with hooded eyes. Halsin met that gaze, his own eyes full of tantalizing promise as he parted from Briar’s chest. 

“You set my skin ablaze when you look at me like that, my heart,” he said as he moved to the so-far-neglected nipple and kissed it noisily. “It makes me want to devour you.”

Briar let out a soft breath, watching intently as Halsin did a slow, lazy roll of his tongue over their nipple. “Perhaps I want to be devoured,” they said breathlessly. 

Halsin only smiled and planted another noisy kiss at the tip of their sternum. To the soft slope of their belly…the mound of their pelvis… the sensitive skin of their inner thigh. Each one bringing him further and further down Briar’s body and closest to the most sacred of places. 

“My own private altar of worship,” Halsin said, his voice the powerful rumble of a rockslide; the suffocating thrill of an avalanche. “How blessed I am to be allowed here, to look upon you in all of the beauty you are.”

Briar felt the gust of Halsin’s warm breath against their swollen arousal. The anticipation of what would come next was enough to make their lithe body arch and squirm; the heat in their stomach becoming the rush of a leap from atop a great summit. 

Halsin’s large hands smoothed from their backside to the back of each of Briar’s knees. His touch was gentle, yet insistent as he hooked each knee over his broad shoulders. 

A little sound escaped Briar’s lips involuntarily; something somewhere between a moan and a whimper–a sound of distress and a sound of need. 

“Patience, lover,” Halsin said, his tongue sounding wet in the well of his mouth. “I wish to savor you as only I might.”

But Briar didn’t have patience–they didn’t want to wait any longer. They wanted to feel Halsin’s mouth upon them–feel what it was to be devoured by him. It was a little death they wanted to experience again and again. 

Briar smoothed both of their hands back into Halsin’s hair, balling their slender fingers just above his pointed ears. They looked down to see Halsin staring up at them–the look in his eyes equal parts warning and indulgence. 

“Please,” Briar whispered, soft as a prayer. 

Halsin gave a gravelly chuckle as he lowered his mouth to them and closed his mouth around the center of Briar’s focus. 

Briar let out a sweet sound of relief as they rolled their hips against Halsin’s soft lips. Their thighs squeezed tighter around Halsin’s head, already feeling overstimulated as Halsin’s tongue stroked them in slow, practiced paths. Halsin let out a satiated noise, the sound vibrating through their center. 

It was easy to enjoy Halsin’s attention–after all, he was more than practiced after three centuries of life. Still, Briar was eager–perhaps too much so–too ready to reach a climax as soon as the experience started. As they rolled their hips into Halsin’s mouth again, the druid placed one firm hand on the flat plane of their pelvis and pressed down with gentle strength, grounding the smaller elf and enforcing the leisurely pace he so enjoyed. 

He tasted them deeply; slowly, from base to agonizingly sensitive tip, lingering to suckle as his eyes closed in his own ecstasy. 

Briar tried to buck like a wild horse, but Halsin’s hand remained an ever-present anchor. 

“Halsin,” Briar begged. “Please, I want more…”

With his free hand, he reached up to dip the tip of his middle finger into Briar’s mouth, collecting moisture from the pool of saliva gathered beneath their tongue. Briar closed their lips around the digit, suckling at it once, twice. Then they grasped his wrist and pulled the hand far enough away to kiss the fingertip. 

“Not that,” they said, knowing full well how he planned to use that prepped finger. Halsin always prioritized their pleasure when they shared these intimate moments together. There were times Briar allowed it–and there were times Briar found their own pleasure in giving Halsin his. “I want to taste you too,” they clarified. 

Halsin freed his preoccupied tongue to look up at them, his eyes dark with primal hunger. “Are you sure, my heart?” he asked. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself–it’s already overwhelming enough to taste the promise of your pleasure on my tongue.”

“I’m sure,” they said. 

His brows dipped slightly. “I may become rougher with you than I intend to.”

Briar’s heart raced and they swallowed as their mouth became dry at the thought of it. 

As much as Briar loved that Halsin was such a gentle giant, they couldn’t help but thrill at the idea of the chase–at the idea of such primal, carnal enjoyment. The idea of Halsin losing his control because of them….well it was almost enough to render them into a puddle. 

“I think I’ll like that,” Briar admitted in a timid whisper. 

Halsin’s brow lifted and his head cocked back in surprise. “Is that right?” he said with a sharpened smile. 

Halsin scooped his arms under Briar, supporting their back and lifting them up with ease. Briar yelped, fingers tangling even tighter into Halsin’s hair as he unceremoniously rearranged their bodies to a more comfortable position–a position more conducive to…mutual feasting. 

Halsin chuckled before pressing a wet kiss to Briar’s aching arousal. It was everything they could do to stop themselves from crumbling in Halsin’s arms. 

“I would never drop you, my heart,” he said, lips still brushing distractingly against the tender skin. 

He continued to cradle them as he laid himself down, letting his back hit the grassy ground in a soft thud as he helped Briar recalibrate themselves. 

Halsin was so tall that it took some adjusting. For a moment, Briar wasn’t sure they would be able to taste the swollen length of Halsin’s erection–even with its more than generous size. But once again, Halsin’s many years of experience came into play. He adjusted the height and placement of Briar’s hips in such a way that, when they pressed together, belly-to-belly, Briar had perfect access to Halsin’s magnificent cock. 

They salivated as they grasped his girth in their hand. His cock twitched faintly and Halsin let out a startled sound against Briar. Briar felt the faint mischievous curl of their own lips, pleased to hear him react to them.

There was a brief moment where they relished the thought of rendering Halsin into a whimpering mess–a moment where the idea of conquering a man like Halsin in mind, body and spirit felt like the tantalizing promise of a good hunt; a good chase. 

But all thoughts, all ideas of scrappy dominance, eddied out of their mind when Halsin swirled his tongue against the sensitive opening of their backside. Briar’s hand tightened around Halsin as their whole body when feverish and alert, their thighs tense where they bracketed Halsin against the ground. 

It took them a moment to find the will to think and move again. Halsin was devouring them like it was the first meal he’d had in days. But finally, Briar’s own hunger took over the buoyant sensation in their body. They hummed as they took Halsin into their mouth, tasting the sweet nectar that had already started to collect at the tip. 

Briar’s long lashes fluttered as they started to slowly take more and more of Halsin within their mouth. At the same time, Halsin started to gently stroke between Briar’s legs, adding a new wave of pleasure to the already pleasant heat; the feeling of being filled by the one they loved. 

Briar intensified the suction around Halsin, eagerly fitting as much of him in their mouth as they could. 

It was when the tip of Halsin’s cock brushed against the tender opening at the back of their throat that things changed. 

A hungry growl came from Halsin’s mouth. He sounded more beast than man in that moment–then he put his free hand on the back of Briar’s head and thrusted the whole of his length into the poor fox’s mouth, curving into the opening of their throat as they choked around it. 

As Halsin retreated, tears gathered at the corners of Briar’s eyes as they gasped in through their nose. They were not tears of distress, though; no, a pleasant lightness took over them as Halsin’s hand roughly curled into their hair, holding them still as he did another unrelenting thrust into their throat. 

Gods, this was heaven–to have Halsin lose control–to feel the wild nature of him in such a visceral, connected way. It was pure bliss. 

Briar forgot about their own stimulation, settling their body fully down on Halsin’s as he tangled his other hand in their hair. 

The pace quickened; Halsin making love to Briar’s mouth the same way he made love to the rest of them every time they indulged in each other’s body: with tender devotion and enraptured abandon. 

“Your mouth–My heart–gods it feels as if it were made for me,” Halsin grunted with some effort. “And seeing you get your pleasure from giving me mine–to feel you hot and wet against my skin…it’s maddening…”

Briar heaved out a dreamy sigh as Halsin inserted himself into their mouth again, all the way to the hilt. And despite the fact that Halsin had stopped his direct stimulation of Briar’s body, they felt the impending crash of their climax heading for them like a storm about to make landfall. 

That spring coiled tighter and tighter every time Briar felt the intoxicating sensation of Halsin’s cock in their throat. 

Halsin’s breaths started to come out as shudders. 

“My heart…” he said in a tremulous voice. “Gods, Briar–you’re a wonder–I’m–”

Halsin snarled and turned his head, biting onto Briar’s inner thigh as he did two thrusts in quick succession. The pain mixed with the pleasure of Halsin’s generous words and the way he so adoringly made love to their mouth was enough to send Briar over the edge. 

They whimpered as they came even as they remained untouched by Halsin, their pleasure dripping out of them as Halsin did one final press up and into their mouth, spilling his own seed into the back of their throat as he gasped and panted. 

He thrust twice more, wringing the last bits of pleasure out of himself before retreating fully out of Briar’s mouth. 

As soon as he did, he gathered the smaller elf into his arms, cradling them close and nuzzling into the hollow of their neck; kissing the soft part of their throat like it was an ache he could heal that way. Those same hands that had just been tangled in Briar’s hair, now smoothed that hair away from their face before cupping their cheek in his hand. 

“Forgive me, dear one–I fear I neglected you in my own distraction,” he cooed, his voice thick and sweet as honey. “Are you alright?”

“I’m perfect,” Briar sighed, smiling dreamily. 

Halsin chuckled and nuzzled his nose against theirs. “You’re right,” he said sweetly. “You are. In every way.”

Briar felt the warmth of love fill their heart to the brim, as they always did after a roll in the grass with Halsin. He was such a giving lover and it was so easy to get as lost in his body as he got lost in Briar’s own. It was impossible not to feel the glow of love. 

“We should get a bath,” Halsin said. “And perhaps some breakfast.”

“I’m already quite full, thank you,” Briar said sleepily. “And I like being a mess because of you.”

Halsin gave Briar a cheeky smile and gently pinched their nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I feel the same, my heart,” he said. “But as we near the coast, it’s getting more and more likely that we will encounter others on the path, and I don’t want to share this vision of you with anyone else…unless you have a desire to, of course.”

Briar sighed and nodded. “I suppose I dont,” they said. “I think there was a lake not far from here. A bit north of the old castle–the one with those stuffy librarians.”

“The Scribe’s Perch, it’s called,” Halsin said helpfully. “And I believe you’re right–a hot spring is over there.”

“Ah–it’s been too long since I’ve soaked in a hot spring,” Briar said. “Let’s go right now.”

Halsin chuckled and nodded. “Alright.”

The two druids got themselves up and did themselves the courtesy of at least wiping down with a bit of water from their waterskins before dressing in their leathers. Briar helped Halsin fasten the leather straps around his biceps and Halsin saw to re-lacing Briar’s hastily removed boots. 

They packed up their tent and their supplies and started making their way south, the promise of a warm soak enough to keep Briar’s mood fairly light and buoyant. 

At least, that was until they got a few minutes into their travels and heard the cry of a worried, panicked man somewhere ahead on the rocky paths of the forests. 

“Elinna?!” The voice called, sounding very clearly distressed. “Elinna! Where are you?”

Briar looked up at Halsin and found a familiar expression there. It was one of worry on behalf of another. Briar knew Halsin well enough at this point that he was never one to look the other way when someone was in distress–unless it was a goblin, of course.

Halsin looked down at them and Briar gave him an encouraging nod. “Let’s go help,” Briar said. “It sounds like someone may be lost.”

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 1

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: None really in this first chapter.

Word Count: 2,656

A/N: Okay, so this is the series that I orphaned over on fanfiction.net and I conducted a poll on what people wanted me to do with it if I brought it over to Tumblr. Converting it into a Dean x Reader AU won quite handily. So, that's what I'm doing. I hope you enjoy.

Just so everyone knows, this is a historical AU set in 1900, and there is no hunting involved. (Though there is a family business. 😄)

Series Master List | Main Master List | Tag List

Dean Winchester was bored; he admitted it. He was bored of the balls, the soirees, the empty conversations, the glittering jewels and the painted smiles. He needed a break. So he'd left New York City and all its glamor and come to Newburgh to spend time with his brother, Sam, Sam's wife Jessica and their little girl, Lucy.

However, now that he was standing in the quiet train station, waiting for Sam to pick him up, he had to wonder what he'd been thinking. With the sleepy ticket agent sitting behind the counter, gently dozing, and an old man sitting on a bench, lazily browsing through a local newspaper, this no longer seemed like a solution to his restlessness and boredom. This place actually seemed like the town that boredom was born and raised in!

But what could it hurt to stay for a week or two? He'd visit with Sam and Jessica, see how much Lucy had grown in the last year and maybe it would wash away the taste of sweaty, over-crowded ballrooms and smoky parlors with too much lemon furniture polish.

He shook his head. He didn't know what had gotten into him lately. That life was all he'd ever been interested in. Certainly, he'd never wanted his brother's life. Slaving away at his private law firm, saddled with a wife and child, and living in the middle of nowhere, a six hour train ride away from civilization; it had always horrified him.

In the last few months, however, the idea of breathing fresh air, of laughing with and even arguing with his brother, of bouncing his niece on his knee, and even the idea of listening to Jessica's bouncy chatter, had been growing in his mind until it was a constant disruption in his thoughts. So, he'd left the reins of his family's shipping and trade business in the hands of his very capable manager and sent a telegram to Sam that he was coming to stay, and to pick him up at the station.

But Sam was late. Dean had been waiting nearly an hour. Tired of standing around, Dean decided to wander a little. He woke up the ticket agent briefly to ask if he could leave his suitcase behind the desk with a message for his brother. The agent yawned and gave him a pen and paper, reaching over to take his suitcase.

Sam,

Got tired of waiting for you. Went exploring. Be back in an hour - two o'clock.

D.

"Thanks." He said to the agent, and set off on his quest to cure his boredom. There had to be something in this town to interest him.

***

Y/N breathed in deeply, and let out a long sigh. The air was crisp, fall air that smelled faintly of damp leaves, spice, and wood smoke. It was a warm and inviting smell and it made the lonely chasm inside her heart widen.

"Miss Y/N, watch!"

Y/N gave her attention back to the little girl who was running down the hill, scattering the birds, and laughing loudly. She couldn't help but smile at the little hellion. It might not be very ladylike behavior, but she wasn't even four years old yet. Y/N decided to save the admonishment and let her be a carefree little girl while she could. These years of innocence and abandon were fleeting. The little one should enjoy them.

"Hello."

Y/N jumped abruptly at a man's deep voice. With a hand over her thumping heart, Y/N turned to scowl at the stranger who'd startled her. As she looked up into his face however, her scowl melted and her heart started beating hard enough to jump out of her chest.

The man was smiling at her, a smile that hitched up one side of his mouth and made Y/N's breath catch in her throat. He was very tall, towering above her where she sat on the park bench. The perfectly tailored, brown traveling coat he wore stretched across broad shoulders and narrowed in a V shape over his flat stomach. His wool pants were of very fine quality and accentuated the strength and muscle of the legs beneath them.

He was beautiful, there was no doubt, but his eyes were something more than beautiful. They were a bright emerald green, long-lashed and penetrating. They stared into Y/N, like he could see through to her back collar button. His eyes alone caused Y/N to blush and she realized she was blushing because there were promises in his eyes, promises of something dark and sensual and all consuming.

He was speaking. She tried to clear the buzzing in her brain so she could hear him.

…"Dean."

She shook her head. "What?" she asked quietly.

He chuckled softly and Y/N's stomach clenched at the sound.

"Dean. I said my name is Dean Winchester and I asked you for yours."

"Y/N!"

At the sound of her name, Y/N turned, thinking wildly for a moment that someone had simply been telling this man her name, but then she realized it was Mr. Winchester, her boss. And as she realized this, the name the man had just given her penetrated through the haze in her mind.

She looked back at the stranger. "Winchester?"

But he wasn't looking at her anymore; he was looking at her boss who was jogging slightly towards them. "Dean!" he called out. "You weren't at the station, so I thought I'd track you down. Sorry I'm late." Mr. Winchester threw his arms around the man and pulled him into what looked like a bone crushing hug. But the man simply pounded Mr. Winchester on the back before her boss turned to face her.

“You’ve met my brother?”

***

Dean closed the door of his wardrobe and leaned against it, closing his eyes so he could bring that perfect face into his mind's eye. Beautiful (y/c) eyes, soft features, and an incredibly succulent mouth. He'd immediately had plans for those perfect lips and he'd already begun imagining them beneath his own, or moving down his body, slowly…

Then suddenly, he'd heard his brother's voice and was crushed in an embrace. When he pulled away, he could see the woman (Y/N?) was blushing profusely and trying to stare a hole into the ground.

He had quickly learned this woman was governess to his niece, his brother making the formal introductions. Lucy came running over and launched herself into Dean's arms.

"Uncle Dean! What did you bring me?"

"Lucy, manners." Sam had scolded. 

But Dean chuckled, and pulled gently on one of her braids. "I have lots for you, kiddo, but it's back at the station."

So, Sam had herded them all back towards the station. He'd told Lucy and her governess that they should get into the carriage as well and ride home with them, but Y/N had refused quickly, blushing again.

"No. Thank you, Sir. You're very kind, but Lucy needs to stretch her legs and wear off her energy. We'll walk back. I'll have her ready for supper at six o'clock." With that she took off with Lucy's hand in hers, walking fast enough that the little girl had to jog a bit to keep up.

"What did you do?" Sam had asked immediately, cuffing Dean none too softly in the back of the head.

"What?" Dean asked innocently. "I barely said two words to the woman."

"Really?" Sam asked, disbelievingly. "Well, two words from you and my level-headed, almost stoic, governess has turned into a blushing school girl."

Dean had just grinned. Sam rolled his eyes and cuffed him again.

Now Dean was changed out of his traveling clothes and into a fresh suit having bathed and rested. And he was bored once again. Sam had returned to his office in town to see his last client of the day and Jessica was out paying calls. He wandered around their modest, but beautiful home, reacquainting himself with the warm wood floors, expensive oriental rugs, and the smell of freshly cut flowers that Jessica grew in a hothouse in the back.

After a half hour, he was officially restless and all the signs of his brother's apparent domestic bliss had him desperate to find a distraction.

He wandered into the library hoping to find a book that might do the trick. Instead he found the beautiful governess he'd met so briefly. She was sitting on a green chair in the corner. She had her legs tucked up on the seat and one stocking clad ankle was showing as it peaked out from beneath her skirts. Lucy was nowhere to be seen, and he assumed she was taking an afternoon nap.

His body thrummed with desire immediately and he had to give his head a shake. He wasn't some green boy about to lift his first skirts. He needed to get control of himself.

Then she looked up from her book, sensing him, and her look of surprise mixed with the innocent desire that flooded her gaze took that control away in an instant. He pictured pulling her into his arms, and ravishing her sweet, lush mouth, which was now open slightly in surprise.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I apologize, Miss Y/L/N. I seem to startle you each time I see you."

She closed her mouth and shook her head. "Not at all, Mr. Winchester. I'll leave you to your reading." She stood to go, but Dean leaned against the closed library door and crossed his arms.

"No, I'd like you to stay, please. Can you recommend a book? What are you reading?"

She took a moment before answering, swallowing several times. She held up the small book. "It's a book about biblical poetry."

"Oh?" Dean couldn't think of anything less interesting, but he moved to her side, and took the book from her hand as an excuse to get closer.

The scent of something sweet, but spicy hit him as he stood near her, making his head foggy, so it took him a moment to register what he was reading as he looked down at the page she'd been on, it was marked with a piece of ribbon.

Taking the ribbon out, he read the words again and then looked back at Y/N with an incredulous expression. "You were reading…this?" He turned the book back to her and pointed his finger at one passage in particular.

"Yes, that's right." Y/N confirmed. "I must confess, I'm not much of a poet, it all sounds fairly confusing to me. This poem talks about a man and woman who are gardening. What a mundane subject to write poetry about." She shrugged delicately. "But it is biblical, so I thought it could only enrich my mind."

Dean couldn't help the wicked grin that spread across his face. "This is the Song of Songs. It's love poetry."

Y/N looked puzzled. "Love? Of what, gardening?"

Dean's smile deepened. "It's written in metaphor. You know what a metaphor is, don't you?"

Y/N's expression became slightly annoyed. "Of course I know what a metaphor is, I'm a governess."

"Of course." Dean said and suddenly he had a wonderful idea. "Let me see if I can help you see the metaphor here. Sit back down, and allow me to read this section to you and see if you understand."

***

Y/N was trying hard to pull air into her lungs without appearing to pant. There must be something truly wrong with her that made these kind of thoughts run through her mind. She couldn't focus her gaze on anything. When she looked into his eyes, thoughts fled completely and her mind was just a rolling mass of red haze.

So, she tried to focus on his neck. But the column of his throat and square corner of his jaw, with it's slight shadow of stubble made her breath catch again. She looked lower to where his hands held the book. But his hands were large and his fingers were long and thick, with blunt squared tips. They made visions pop into her mind's eye, visions that no respectable lady would be having. She pictured those fingers taking hold of her hand, wrapping around it, she imagined the warmth of his skin on hers, and soon she was nothing but a mass of nerves again.

She was very proud of herself for getting words past her lips. But then he'd suggested he read to her and she heard herself agreeing. A part of her mind was telling her to simply leave, but she thought it might seem rude, he was the brother of her employer after all. So she sat.

He opened to her page and began:

Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow on my garden, that its fragrance may spread everywhere. Let my beloved come into his garden and taste its choice fruits. I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking: "Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night."

Y/N listened and the words themselves held no new meaning, she could find no metaphors in them. But she heard the husky timbre of his voice, heard the low rumble as his tongue and lips formed the words, and she suddenly knew that what he was saying was scandalous. She could hear the impropriety in his voice, knew it from the way it made her shiver. Quoting the bible shouldn't create such a hedonistic reaction!

She jumped to her feet, unsure of what her next move would be, but she knew she couldn't stay in this room alone with this man another minute.

Dean stood slowly, putting the book down.

"Did you like it?" He asked and his voice was rough and low, slow and drawling.

She shook her head. She definitely didn't like this feeling. Her head felt stuffed full of cotton and her body tingled. He stepped closer to her and reached out to take her hand.

It felt exactly as she had imagined. It was warm where his fingertips held hers.

"I just realized that when we were introduced earlier I was very rude. I didn't even offer a kiss for your hand."

He tugged gently on her hand and she shuffled forward until only a few inches separated them. Her breathing was rough and her mind screamed at her to pull away. But she didn't. Instead she watched as he brought the back of her hand up to meet his plump lips. They were smooth and warm, and his breath just heated her skin there.

He moved his lips slowly, turning her hand in his so he could kiss the inside pulse point of her wrist. She had to tell him to stop. He was behaving with unbelievable impropriety. But his lips…they moved again, grazing her skin as they did, up to the tip of her thumb. Then he kissed the tip of each finger, before grasping her hand more firmly and pulling her the last inch toward him, so that now she could feel the heat radiating off of him. He dipped his head and she felt his lips in the center of her palm. Suddenly she felt his tongue flick out briefly to taste her.

It was the jolt of fire that shot up her arm that brought her to her senses. She gasped loudly and wrenched her hand out of his. She stood frozen for a moment, staring at the mouth that had brought on such a feeling. Then, desperately, she bolted from the room, trying to outrun the image of the heat burning in those stunning green eyes and of the wide, sensual mouth she suddenly longed to feel against her own.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

[strawberrywinter4]

WIP - A Gentleman’s Shrine (A historical Johnlock AU)

Summary:

Sherlock Holmes has been taught that he has one purpose in life: to carry on the family legacy. “High society is dying,” his mother continuously informs him.

The Great War has recently ended, which has left London in a swivel of downfall and success.

Every year when his mother hosts the Noble Legacy Gala, Sherlock wishes he could fall into a rabbit hole and never come up, dreading the unnecessary and tedious event.

That is until he sees Captain John Watson attending the Gala, the most beautiful, dangerous, and interesting man he’s ever met.

Notes: This story is currently in the works and I can’t set a specific date when it will be released, but I hope soon! This is a historical AU taking place in London, about 1924, I’d say (the date may change), and requires a lot of research, so just know I’m trying my very best!! This story will be rated explicit.

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @mary-johnlocked @bakerstreetbe @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked

[foreverinthepagesofhistory]

~ Rumors About Our Daughter ~ (fan fiction requested by @historical-epic)

Rumors questioning Archduchess Marie Valerie of Austria’s legitimacy have been circulating within the Austrian Court. What do her parents think about this? What do they do?

Characters: Archduchess Marie Valerie of Austria, Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria, Empress Elisabeth of Austria

Valerie heard her mother talking to a random maid servant in the drawing room of their summer home Kaiservilla in Bad Ischl. Thought it sounded more like arguing to her.

“Don’t you dare make such treasonous accusations!” Elisabeth shouted, loud enough for 8 year old Valerie to make out what she said. 

“Y-Y-Your Majesty….I didn’t mean to…I was just implying that”

“What, that my daughter is illegitimate? That her father is not The Emperor? How dare you!”

Valerie had never heard her mother this angry before. It was quite shocking, more shocking than the rumors of her own illegitimacy. 

These rumors were swirling in and out of Kaiservilla for months now, mostly the fancy talk of lower servants. When the imperial family arrived, the servants had to be more careful about their gossiping and shut out their willful thoughts as these thoughts could imprison them for life, or even worse, death.

Emperor Franz Joseph I was married to Duchess Elisabeth of Bavaria, who later became Empress Elisabeth of Austria by marriage. But everyone close to her called her either Mother or Sisi. 

Together they had four children. Archduchess Sophie, who died young, Gisela, Rudolf, and Marie-Valerie. They all lived somewhat happy lives although there were problems in all.

Franz and Sisi had to bear the burden of ruling an all powerful Austro-Hungarian empire, Rudolf had to bear the burden of being heir, Gisela had to bear the burden of being unloved by her parents (it was very complicated), and Valerie now had to bear the burden of various rumors spreading about who her real father was.

There are plenty of servants and nobles who live at Kaiservilla and that means that there are various mouths to blab whatever they want about whoever they want. 

A few months ago, the topic of Empress Sisi and her lover Count Andrássy was being spoken about and somebody must’ve put together that Valerie might not have been her father’s daughter.

These were obviously just nonsensical rumors because Valerie was Franz’s child. She was legitimate. 

But Valerie herself didn’t know that and neither did all of the servants who had been blabbing their mouths off for months. 

“Get out of my sight! Sisi practically screamed at the frightened chamber maid who unfortunately gossiped at the wrong time to a footman.

The maid scurried off and Sisi sat down on the nearest chair and was trying to hold in tears.

“Mama..” Valerie walked in from the other room. “Was that maid talking about me?” She asked.

“Oh darling” Sisi held out her hands to embrace the trembling young girl who started to cry.

“Don’t pay any mind to what that filthy servant said. It was all lies and it wasn’t true at all.”

Sisi stroked her daughter’s unruly dark brown hair and continued to do so until Valerie broke the embrace.

“But Mama…I heard it all…I don’t know what this all means.” Valerie was on the verge of hysterics. 

Seeing her mother so upset ignited something in her that is usually hidden away. It made her angry and confused and utterly upset.

“Valerie darling” Sisi soothed. “All you have to believe is that you are your father’s daughter, you are my daughter. If somebody said that you aren’t then shame on them!” 

Sisi gave her youngest daughter a little playful slap which turned the sad frown on Valerie’s face into the wide smile that would be seen playing outside with her dogs or drawing pictures with her mother.

“You are Archduchess Marie Valerie of Austria, youngest daughter of Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria, King of Hungary. That is who you are and you can’t listen to anybody if they say otherwise, especially the nasty servants who gossip.” Sisi softly placed a hand on Valerie’s face.

“Okay Mama, I love you very much.” The two hugged firmly again.

“Next time Valerie, don’t eavesdrop okay?” Sisi said strictly, but with a laugh.”

“Okay Mama!” Sighed smart Valerie as she skipped out of the room.

~

Later that night, when Valerie was doing her nighttime prayers, Sisi was informing Franz about the events of the day.

“Franz, darling,” Sisi spoke to her husband who was sitting calmly on the bed taking his boots off.

“Many people are questioning Valerie’s legitimacy, today I caught a maid servant gossiping with a footman. I’m greatly concerned.” Sis went over to sit next to Franz who wrapped his arm around her.

“Darling, you know those rumors are false. I remember the night we conceived. It couldn’t possibly be anyone else. What makes you so worried?” Franz said

Sisi wanted to say that the rumors were specifically stating that Count Andrássy was the suspected father and that she never did anything with him except one small kiss, but she couldn’t say that to her husband. 

She loved Franz and Andrássy’s kiss brought her no affectionate feelings, minus disgust and anger, but this was just not the right time.

That was a story for another day.

Sisi decided to tell Franz the truth about half of the worries about this situation.

“I’m worried because Valerie was in the other room and she could hear me yelling at that maid.” Sisi was close to tears.

“She has never heard me that angry before and she came up to me afterword and was quite distressed...” Sisi wept into Franz’s arms while he gently stroked her back.

They might not have been passionate soulmates, but after all these years of marriage, Franz still loved Sisi, and the feeling was mutual.

“Sisi darling hush now, I will talk to her, I promise.” Franz stated his wife in the eye and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

He then exited the room and let Sisi undress peacefully.

As Franz was walking to Valerie’s rooms, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking more deeply about the rumors.

Why would anyone think that Valerie is not my daughter?

Valerie heard a sudden knock on her bedroom door.

“Valerie, darling, it’s Papa, can I come in?”

“Enter.” Valerie spoke softly as her nanny calmly put the book away and exited the room.

Franz came in and slowly sat down on Valerie’s bed.

“What’s wrong Papa?” Valerie noticed the solemn look on her father’s usually joyful face. At least he was joyful when she was around.

“Valerie…” Franz spoke in a nervous but fairly calm tone. “Mother told me about what happened today.”

Valerie’s face fell into a sad frown.

“Does everyone think like that maid thinks?” She said desperately. “Mama says that I shouldn’t listen to them…but I did.”

“Oh Valerie my dearest,” Franz wrapped his daughter in a tight embrace and rocked her around like he did when she was a baby. 

“Look in my eyes, Valerie, you are my daughter. Nothing can or will ever change that.” Franz was disgusted by these ugly rumors. His heart knew that Sisi could’ve and would’ve been unfaithful at times, and he could’ve been too. But he knew deep down in his heart that Valerie was his child, nothing could convince him otherwise.

“Papa is that really the truth?” Valerie asked longingly.

“Darling,” Franz cooed. “It will forever be the truth.”

“Oh Papa I love you so much!” Valerie gave her father a kiss on the cheek and a tight squeeze before hopping under her covers.

Franz kissed the little girl goodnight and exited calmly.

He knew that everything was going to be okay, and if not, he would take care of it.

~

[dont-tell-my-mom-im-here]

[persephoneflouwers]

Sunday snippet ✨

“You’re jealous.”

Harry blushes even harder.

“‘M not jealous. I just—I’m frustrated that I don’t know how to attract your attention.”

“You have it now.”

Louis leans in closer, his stunning features illuminated by the flickering light of an oil torch.

“I sense a duty to take action, but I'm at a loss for how to proceed.”

The scent of cheap wine lingers on his breath as he stares deeply into Harry's eyes. Harry swallows on nothing when he watches Louis’ pupils darken with desire.

A shiver runs down Harry's spine when Louis' hand brushes against his own, sending a jolt of sparkle through his body. All Harry can think about is how badly he wants to be with Louis, to feel his lips on his own and explore every inch of his body.

“Let me teach you then.”

Usual writer bestie @nooradeservedbetter scelgo teeee

[word-ghost]

an unfavorable attachment // 4

Mother eyed her daughter up and down when she joined her in the drawing room, only nine minutes after she was expected. No expression crossed her face as she took in Eleanora’s attire, a simple day dress in a pale, almost greyish blue. 

It was more than an act of childish defiance, ignoring the butter yellow silk Mother left hanging beside the dressing screen. The plainer dress, one of few Eleanora brought with her from Westwood Hall, was a reminder it was time to go back. That she should never have left.

Settling on the settee, Eleanora served herself a generous pour of tea. The moment she raised the cup to her lips, her mother asked, “Where is your smile, peach?”

She tried not to grumble in reply. “It hardly slept.” 

“And why ever not? You retired so early last night.”

“I was not well.” Eleanora averted her bleary gaze and sipped her tea. 

“You were well enough to make a wonderful impression on the Ashfields. And thank the light for that,” Mother added beneath her breath, swishing across the room to her writing desk. “If you are not feeling your best, we can move our visit to the village to tomorrow.”

Eleanora swallowed wrong. Stifling a cough she blurted, “Why?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What errand do we have in the village?” She asked, setting her cup and saucer on the table. 

“I thought you might want to do a bit of shopping and visiting while you are here. The Fullers would love to meet us for tea. You haven’t seen Miss Haley since her debut.”

“She was here yesterday with Emily.”

Her mother gave a harsh laugh. “Let us not pretend you spent more than an hour in the ballroom last night.”

Making a passable impression on the Ashfields had evidently not made up for Eleanora’s absence the rest of the evening. It was better not to respond. She plated a slice of seed cake and remained wordless for the remainder of her late breakfast. 

Mother never required assistance to fill a silence.

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