576 words of tim drake x gender neutral reader x kon el domestic fluff.
notes: i don't know what dc's doing with kon and at this point i'm afraid to ask, but this is written with his 90s personality in mind. (but when he's capable of aging, so, maybe an au? unsure.)
warnings: food, lack of sleep, and one throwaway line about injury.
tim sighed, resting his head against the door of your shared apartment. c'mon, just a little bit more, he thought. then you can curl up with them and sleep for a few years.
exhausted didn't cover it. eight in the morning, just getting home after a late night meeting with bruce that ran extra, extra late, followed by a very active patrol, which was then followed by mission reports- a long enough night that damian had taken his gear from him at the end of the night (morning?) and nodded to the door.
"i'm more than capable of cleaning your supplies, drake," he'd said when tim tried to protest. "i don't want you passing out on the road and causing a mess for father. go while you can still see straight."
it was the closest to caring damian had ever been towards tim, and all it took was being awake for over 24 hours.
and maybe some minor flesh wounds, but he was trying not to think about those.
tim took a deep breath and unlocked the door, moving inside quietly so he didn't wake his partners up.
"tim!" you shrieked happily as soon as he closed the door behind him, making him jump. so much for them being asleep. "get your boyfriend out of my kitchen!"
"i'm not doing anything!" kon called, a mischievous note in his voice that told tim he was absolutely doing something. probably multiple somethings.
tim unceremoniously dropped his laptop bag and jacket on the table and kicked his shoes into the corner, following the sound of your favorite playlist into the kitchen.
"why aren't you in bed?" he all but whined, squinting at the mess of ingredients and dishes that littered the counter.
"well, i wanted to have breakfast ready for when you got home." you said, gently sliding your arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug, which he gladly melted into. "but someone here decided to get up and make my life difficult."
tim peaked over your head to see kon licking what he suspected was pancake batter off of his finger with a grin.
"i did nothing," kon insisted smugly, leaning back against the counter.
tim chuckled, and something warm and soft cracked open in his chest and spread through his body. the scene was so normal, so human and domestic, it almost hurt. he squeezed you and locked eyes with kon.
"i love you both," tim said warmly, "so, so much."
"if that's the case," you stepped back, the picture of innocenceas you trailed you hands down his arms, "you won't mind taking our darling menace away from here. he's gone through half a bag of chocolate chips, timothy. half a bag."
before tim could really process anything beyond the loss of your warmth, kon was already sighing dramatically.
"fine, i can tell when i'm not wanted." he brushed past you with a swift kiss to your cheek before grinning mischievously at tim and scooping him into his arms. "c'mon, gorgeous, let's get you into somethin' comfy."
tim, thrilled to no longer be supporting his own weight, smiled contentedly. "i'm stealing your green hoodie."
"anything for you, pretty bird."
you came up behind kon, leaning around him and kissing tim's forehead. the small gesture, combined with kon's warm hold, made his heart swell powerfully.
and then you pushed them out of the kitchen, laughter in your voice as you sent them on their way.
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What characters do you write for from TLK? I want to be respectful and refrain from submitting a request for someone you don’t write for☺️ hope you have a lovely day/night
Hey!! That’s really sweet of you 🥰
Sorry it took me so long btw! I was on a break but I’m back :)
I write mainly for the coccham squad and the girls (Aethelflaed, Eadith) cause that’s who I’m most familiar with, but if you have anyone else in mind, feel free to request and I’ll work with it!
PROMPT: 12. “I feel sick… so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”
SUMMARY: The reader goes missing after they raid York.
WORDS: 1.845
WARNINGS: none?
“I feel sick… so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”
It had been five days since the Vikings invaded York. Five days since their conquest had gone as smoothly and as gratifying as it could possibly have.
Five days since anyone had seen you. Hvitserk had walked day and night, through every inch of the town, looked through every house and under every block of stone. You were nowhere to be found. Before you left Kattegat, a feeling haunted him, something dark and filled with sorrow. He should not have let you come, he knew it in his gut.
PROMPT: 12. “I feel sick… so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”
SUMMARY: The reader goes missing after they raid York.
WORDS: 1.845
WARNINGS: none?
“I feel sick… so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”
It had been five days since the Vikings invaded York. Five days since their conquest had gone as smoothly and as gratifying as it could possibly have.
Five days since anyone had seen you. Hvitserk had walked day and night, through every inch of the town, looked through every house and under every block of stone. You were nowhere to be found. Before you left Kattegat, a feeling haunted him, something dark and filled with sorrow. He should not have let you come, he knew it in his gut.
“Brother,” Ivar wiped his lips of the remnants of ale, “had something happened to her, we would have found her body. It’s (Y/N), she is fine.”
Hvitserk’s leg bounced up and down, his hands passed down his face. The plate in front of him was untouched, he found no appetite in himself.
“Eat. You will feel better.”
The plate flew to the nearest wall as Hvitserk hurled it with all his strength. His body burned with the frustration, nothing would simmer down the fire in his eyes. The words spat from his mouth before they could be contained, “I don’t want to eat, I want to find (Y/N).”
His brother was unbothered by the petty behavior. Hvitserk might have been the oldest, but he rarely acted as such. Ivar shrugged.
“Don’t eat, then.”
He huffed, and paced around the old church. Ivar was insufferable. He didn’t understand. How could he? He didn’t know what if felt like to love you. To have your bare skin pressed against his chest as he laid kisses on your head. To feel your smile intoxicate his being to the bone.
To not have you by his side was waking up to a morning without the sun.
Hvitserk would rather face an army on his own than to bear the thought of you joining the gods so soon. You could not go to Valhalla. Not yet. He wouldn’t allow it.
“We must gather the men and search for her.”
Ivar contained his laugh, but the taunting smirk remained on his face, “You would have us leave York?”
“Some of us.”
“You see, brother, this is why I am in charge.”
“Don’t push me, Ivar.” He warned.
Ivar might underestimate him, treat him like waste, but he could never forget, Hvitserk was more than capable of unleashing chaos and walking out unharmed. He was still a son of Ragnar, after all.
“Two men will accompany you. Don’t wander off too far.”
Hvitserk’s jaw clenched tight, it was not what he had in mind. If it was up to him, he would have half the town looking for you. He nodded, nonetheless.
“Good.” Ivar smiled and sipped on his drink. Hvitserk was ready to leave the church, the confined space had become enough to suffocate him breathless, much more with his little brother around. As he opened the grand doors, Ivar called out to him, “She would be disappointed.”
He was frozen in place. Fingers clasped the handle tight, nearly breaking his bones. Every breath became more rapid, every heartbeat echoed louder in his ears.
“All this time,” Ivar continued, “and you still underestimate her.”
Hvitserk made sure to slam the door behind him.
-----------------------------
The group had been on the road for three days when they came upon a small farm east of York. Hvitserk, a shieldmaiden and one of Ivar’s most trusted men. The sun had barely shone its rays in the sky. It was quiet. The cold breeze ruffled the tree branches above them. If they concentrated enough, the heavy waves could be heard as they crashed in the distance.
Hvitserk’s heart fluttered with hope. It was the only place that consisted of more than trees and dirt in miles. You had to be there. They rounded the farm with care, but no living soul was to be seen besides the sheep and cattle. At last, they checked the wooden hut, where the farm owners were likely to be asleep at such early hours.
With his axe in hand, he slowly opened the door. Its hinges creaked to announce their arrival, but the room remained still. It was empty. There was a door, left ajar. It led to the only other room of the house. Hvitserk approached it, his boots pressed hard against the floor with each step.
The door burst open once he was within reach, a round shield was thrown towards him. Hvitserk was barely fast enough to block the impact with his forearm. He did not bother to attack its owner, he recognized the familiar patterns of the paint that dried on it.
He had watched you paint the shield with delight. Your favorite part of fights and battles was not the thrill of violence, or the trial of skill. It was testing your weapons to their limits until they broke and you could improve them. And then, at last, decorate them. You loved painting your shields until they became uniquely yours. So your friends could find you miles away on the battlefield.
You were nothing like Hvitserk. The thrill he found in action, you found in watching. The love he found in talking, you found in listening. The two of you were not similar, and that’s why he loved you with all his heart. The broken pieces of you seemed to fit in each other with perfection.
“Stop! It’s me!” Hvitserk laughed as he blocked your blows. Joy consumed him, so much he could take on the whole of England right then and there.
You stopped your axe mid air and took the moment to analyze the man before you. Within the adrenaline, you had failed to recognize his voice, but the laughter was unmistakable. “Hvitserk!”
The axe and shield dropped to the ground and you threw your arms around his neck. Hvitserk held you tight, taking in the feeling of having you in his arms. The scent of your hair, your body warm against his.
“I thought I lost you,” He mumbled against your shoulder.
You pulled away from him with a frown but kept your bodies entwined. “Lost me? Why would you have lost me?”
“You disappeared, (Y/N),” He breathed, “I searched all of York, and I couldn’t find you. No one could find you.”
“During the raid, I saw a man leave the town with a child. She cried and screamed, and he dragged her with so little care, it felt… wrong.” You explained, your hands dropped from his neck and you sat at the table. “I followed them. When they got here I saw how he mistreated her and I intervened.”
“You killed him?”
“He attacked me first.” The words came out more aggressive then you had intended. “I waited for her mother to arrive, but she never came. I would ask the child, but… I do not understand a word she says.”
Hvitserk’s sigh was heavy with emotion he had to hold. “Have you stopped to think she might not have a mother? Or any other family? What will you do then?”
You bit your lip, “I will take care of her.”
“No, you will not.”
“Yes, I will.” You stood up, your lips pulled tight into a frown. One of the few similarities the both of you had, one could be just as headstrong as the other. Arguments turned into fights, and fights tended to not end well for either of you. “It is not your decision.”
His voice was low, his hands slid to your waist gently, “(Y/N), if you wish for a child, I will be more than happy, you know this. But not like this.”
But it wasn’t so easy. The gods knew you had tried, both intentionally and unintentionally, but there had never been a sign of you bearing a child. It vexed you. So much, your worst fight had been when Hvitserk suggested the possibility that, perhaps, you simply… couldn’t. It wasn’t unusual. You refused to accept it, but a part of you hung onto it, in the back of your mind. A poisonous seed among your thoughts that always told you it could be true.
“It’s not about that,” You shook your head, “I cannot leave her alone.”
Out of the corner of your eye you saw the two warriors share a look as they fidgeted in the spot. Whatever they had been here for, it most certainly wasn’t to witness a couple arguing. Recomposing yourself, you cleared your throat.
“Forgive me,” you smoothed out the night gown you had been wearing, “You must be tired. There is ale on the jar, I will arrange a place for you to rest.”
Inside the bedroom, the little girl hid under the bed in fear. You gathered the furs you had been using for yourself and some clothes from her parents so you could make a decent bed for your companions. You set everyone in the main room of the house to not frighten the girl.
The sun was high in the sky as the two warriors slept. On the other side of the room, you and Hvitserk were still wide awake. His chest heaved up and down with each breath, his heartbeat faint as a dream against your head. Your thumb rubbed small circles on his arms, he was the most relaxed he had been the entire week. Even so, he couldn’t find it in himself to fall asleep. He finally had you in his arms, and he didn’t want to miss a second of it. He was afraid he would wake up and you wouldn’t be there anymore. Blown out of his reach like petal in the wind once again.
“Why did you come?” Your voice was a whisper, barely audible. But he heard you.
“I was worried about you.”
You lifted your head to rest your chin against his chest, “I can take care of myself, Hvitserk. This was a simple raid.”
His fingers played with your hair, he was lost in thought. He knew you like the back of his hand. You were a shieldmaiden. A viking, just as much as he was. Strong, determined, headstrong. Hvitserk also knew the other side of that. The adventurer, fearless free spirit. The part who would be the first to run to the top of a hill to find what was on the other side, whose curiosity could not be eased. It was not hard to believe that you ran from York without a note of warning. In fact, it sounded just like you, running to the rescue of the innocent.
“I know,” He pursed his lips, “when it concerns you, (Y/N), I tend to act by my heart, not my head.”
Your expression softened, “How could I ever blame you for that?”
“You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy. I’ve got you, love.”
Kissing on sofa, foreheads pressed together, breathy, soft tender.
“Sometimes I wonder if you even like me…it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”
“You were supposed to be my friend. That’s all…that’s all I asked of you. To be my friend. To care.”
“I look at him/her/them and I just..it’s like when the Grinch’s heart grows three sizes.”
“I don’t…i’ve never…been in a relationship and i’m going to make mistakes…I just need you to tell me. I need you to talk to me.”
“You really thought I was dead?”
“I want to believe, I do…I just…how can I believe in something that I can’t see?”
“You didn’t tell me your friend was cute! Now what am I going to do?”
“I feel sick…so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”
“Can we just make a decision? Please?”
“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?”
“I just want you to be safe. That’s all i’ve ever wanted for you!”
“I want you to be happy…even if its not with me.”
“I want to feel like this forever.”
“You give me a reason to be better, to do better.”
“God, you are so fucking cute.”
“I love you, but I need you to go away because you’re really bloody distracting and I have to pass this test tomorrow.”
“I…I can’t do this without you.”
“Don’t forget me?”
“You weren’t there…why weren’t you there?”
“I needed you! I needed you!”
“Now it’s over…I don’t really know what to do.”
“Do you ever think?”
“I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!”
“How can you drink that stuff?”
“Oh no…he’s/she’s/they’re cute.”
“I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I don’t know how to flirt!”
“Sometimes you love someone and you don’t want them to leave…because if they’re beside you, you can see that they’re safe and you can keep them safe. But, if they go somewhere without you…you might lose them”
“No one has a romantic bone in their body anymore! What happened to playing songs outside windows, glitter and sparkles on handmade Valentine’s cards, dancing in the rain!? What happened?!”
“I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are so important to me, you are such a big part of my life, that I just…I can’t imagine you not here.”
“I just want you to be happy…”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“Stop apologising for other people! You’re not the shitty one!”
“I want someone I can melt around. I want someone who melts around me too…I don’t want this standoffish, unromantic love that you’re offering. I want more than that.”
“I want to write you poetry, to write songs about you and draw your portrait! I want to make things for you! It frustrates the hell out of me hat I can’t draw and I can’t sing or write or play instruments or paint…You inspire me so fucking much…”
“You don’t own her/him/them. You don’t get to choose who they choose. I don’t get to choose who they choose. No one, but them, gets to make that decision.”
“Stop being a fucking dick.”
“That’s another way of saying you’re an arsehole.”
“Can anyone else hear those Jumanji like drums? Or is it just me?”
“Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…”
“I’m only important when you need something from me.”
“I am fed up of half measures. I deserve better”
“Don’t look at me! I’m a mess!”
“I love it when you’re a mess!”
“Please stop rolling your shirt sleeves up, it’s terribly distracting”
“I don’t think you’re annoying…I know…I don’t…I really like listening to and hearing what you have to say even if its a lot sometimes..”
“I just want to be swept off my feet…is that so bad? I’m fed up of being alone.”
One reaching for the others hand to comfort them, to provide support. A thumb brushing lightly against skin.
Reciting poetry at the other in a dramatic and very public fashion
Those period shirts with the puffy sleeves and the deep v and one staring at the other like… oh no he/she’s hot.
Heart eyes when the other talks, sings, dances, argues, does literally anything especially things which others make fun of them for or find annoying
“Oh, my ankle! I think it must be broken!” *wink* *wink*
“I want you to be proud of yourself. I want you to believe that you’re good enough because you are. You’re so amazing.”
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
“I haven’t slept since they/him/her left/died”
“You are an uncultured swine! There I said it!”
“I know I should be happy…I did well…I always do well…so why can’t I believe in myself?”
“Please do your homework, for me? Just one time…”
“I said one time, y’know…you didn’t have to actually start studying. Not that I’m not proud or anything.”
“Go big or go home”
“I’m already home.”
“I lost my wellie boot in the river…”
“I wish I knew who they were…”
“It was that bad here?”
“I look at you and I…I feel so sad because I love you but I also have been hurt so many times that I don’t think I can forgive and forget.”
Brushing hair from their face
Leaning into the others hand, turning their head and pressing a kiss to the palm
“I didn’t take you for the settling down type.”
Speaks in a terrible Shakespearean/Elizabethan style to woo/make the other laugh
“Should I go first or…do you want to go?”
“If you want to leave, we can leave.”
“I don’t want to ruin your party.”
“You could never ruin anything.”
“Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.”
“Please don’t make me choose.”
“I can finally understand why you call them your arch-nemesis…What. A. Dick.”
“Poetry isn’t supposed to be good, it’s supposed to make you feel things!”
“If you don’t get that stick out of your arse, i’ll do it myself and beat you with it.”
“Could you come get me?”
“Stop moving! I’m going to have to start counting all over again!”
“I just thought that since you weren’t feeling too good, maybe this would help.”
The one stumbling to the other’s front door after getting hurt/beaten up etc.
“Oh my heart it breaks! It shall never be whole again!” “She/He/They break up with you every other month. Shouldn’t it be used to the disappointment by now?”
“I thought you said no more dangerous stunts?”
“I’m not kissing you in the rain! We’ll catch our death!”
“Where’s your adventurous spirit?!”
“A walk in the woods might do you some good. Clear your head.”
“You have wronged me so bitterly…”
“Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?”
“Please get me away from him. He hasn’t left me alone all night and I am this close to committing a murder.”
“I apologise sincerely if my handsome/beautiful face has kept you awake all night.”
Massages but the sort that are actually practical and helpful. Like babe, you’re so uncomfortable let me help because you’re clearly in pain
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I’m suffering from really bad writer’s block. I’ve started about 4 different stories for the TLKFFF2020 but I just don’t seem able to get it done with.
So in order to try to fix that, I would love to receive some requests for:
— The Last Kingdom
— Vikings
I’m also going to reblog some prompts if anyone would like <3
TLKFFF2020 @tlkfanficfest Imagine 1. Finan, Finan shares his cloak with the reader at the fire to keep them both warm. His hands wander occasionally.
A/N: So here is my first work for TLK FEST ! It is also the first smut that I post so heee, I tried my best and I hope it’s not too bad 🙃. Finan’s hand was supposed to occasionally wander, turned out it wasn’t that occasional If I dare say lol
Masterlist
Words: 936
Warnings : SMUT and Fluff.
Travelling to Winchester was something you were used to now. Uhtred had always something to do in the great city, things that usually were meetings with Alfred. And so, as Finan, Sihtric and Osferth, you had to follow him.
But travelling during winter, wasn’t as pleasant as in summer. The journey from Coccham to Winchester was two days of rides, meaning you had to spend one night in the woods. And obviously, it was cold. Very cold.
The fire was crackling in the little clear as you brought woods. You let it fall on the floor and you sigh, little shaky because of the temperature.
“Gods, it has never been that cold.” You complained, leaning your hands towards the flames.
“If we don’t freeze during the night, it will be a miracle.” Said Osferth, tightening is fur around his shoulders.
For @tlkfanficfest prompt 20: Finan/Uhtred, stuck in a confessional box. Can be as naughty as you like. Bonus for Aelswith coming to pray whilst they’re stuck.
Also with a cameo of Prompt 25 as well because...I mean...Hiccups.
I swore to myself I wasn’t going to do this because I feel bad enough about neglecting the other fic-related projects I have but I read this prompt and near corpsed myself laughing so I just had to. Also apologies for the mildly OOC rant about Early Medieval Church practices I just...cannot...stop...myself...sometimes.
Warnings: None I can think of but please let me know if you’d like anything added.
——————
They’d been dismissed hours ago. Dismissed, in fact, on pain of punishment if they didn’t piss off immediately and yet for some reason Uhtred was still pacing the floor of the royal chapel. It was nearly midsummer and the light filtering through the high windows left fractured patterns on the stone floor. Finan had nearly counted all of the little sunlight diamonds by the time Uhtred finally spoke.
“We can’t leave. Not until I know Aethelflaed is well.”
“It was barely a scratch. She’ll be fine. Which is more than we’ll be able to say for ourselves if we stay here much longer.”
They’d come alone, just the two of them, after news of Aethelflaed’s injury had reached Coccham and the king, not entirely well disposed to the pair of them on a good day, had declared them a nuisance he didn’t have energy to deal with and sent them on their way. Uhtred had borne the dismissal better than Finan had expected - squaring his shoulders and leaving with only a cursory argument - until he had swung them into the deserted chapel and taken to pacing the room.
“It was her turd of a husband’s doing and...”
“And we can skin the runt later...” Finan sighed and pushed himself away from the wall, crossing to where Uhtred was leaning heavily against the altar and resting a hand on his shoulder. Beneath the rough spun tunic, Uhtred was tense. “...we need to leave.”
Uhtred shifted, turning so the he was leaning against the altar with his arms folded across his chest. He was staring at a spot on the wall somewhere behind Finan with a crease in his brow. This thing with Aethelflaed, whatever it was destined to be, was getting out of hand.
“I’m not saying your heart’s not in the right place but you’ll do nobody any favours by pissing of Alfred...again.”
The flicker of a smirk lifted the corner of Uhtred’s mouth.
“I don-”
Uhtred’s ability to go from a reclining start to a full sprint in the blink of an eye hadn’t caught Finan off guard in a long time but the sudden sharp tug at his collar yanked him off his feet and sent him stumbling backwards into the shadows until his back collided with Uhtred’s chest.
“What the hell was tha-“
“Shhh.”
Uhtred nodded urgently towards the chapel doors where the Lady Aelswith stood. Her back was to them, for now at least, as she spoke with someone who was hidden by the pillar of the...confessional? Uhtred had dragged him into the damned confessional booth. Finan didn’t need the Sight to know where this was going.
“Uhtred we are trapped in here and if she turns around...”
Aelswith’s soft laugh carried over on the breeze. The day was warm enough without being stuffed into a confessional booth but here they were and Uhtred was already reaching past him to pull the door over to hide them. There was barely enough room for a half-starved priest, never mind two warriors, in the stuffy little box and Uhtred was all elbows and hot breath on the back of Finan’s neck.
“If we try to leave now she’ll see us.”
“If we’d left when we were meant to instead of skulking...”
“Skulking around looking for trouble, I know, I know.” The end of his sentence came out as a deep sigh as he dropped his forehead onto Finan’s shoulder. “But...I swore I would-“
“Swear any more oaths and you’re going to get us all killed.”
Finan leaned forwards, trying to make out who it was that Aelswith was speaking with and to put a breath of distance between the two of them before they both suffocated. Uhtred had released his grip on his collar but his hand still rested high on Finan’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing absent minded circles into his neck.
“And if you don’t stop that I’ll kill you myself.”
Despite the breathy whispers they were reduced to, the smirk was clear in Uhtred’s voice.
“You don’t usually complain.”
Finan aimed a kick backward and his heel met Uhtred’s shin drawing out a satisfying hiss of pain.
“Just shut up and let me see what she’s doing.”
Through the simply carved wood of the confessional door, which let the dappled afternoon light filter through from the high windows, he could just make out Aelswith moving further into the chapel. At her side, Father Pyrlig looked around the empty room with a quizzical look before his eyes settled on the confessional.
Finan shrunk back into the shadows, half tripping on Uhtred who dropped onto the small bench with a quiet thud and a muttered curse.
Pyrlig smirked a very uncomfortable smirk before muttering something to Aelswith and departing with a short bow.
Fuck.
“What is she doing?”
“Probably thinking of how she’d like our entrails hung up.”
“Let me see.”
“There’s no space, if you just...”
“It’s fine, just move back...”
“We don’t fit in here, I can’t...”
Half-braced again the wall, Uhtred peered through the door as Finan found himself pressed further back into the booth.
“You really don’t want to know where your knife is right now.”
“Shh. She’s coming this way.”
“Then get your knife out of my c-“
The second door to the confessional creaked open and Finan held his breath as Aelswith stepped inside. Uhtred shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Finan bit down on the inside of his cheek as the pointed end of Uhtred’s scabbard grazed perilously close to soft flesh and wondered if Aelswith would reward him for just throttling Uhtred right there.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have...” There was a soft beat of silence, as though the word was distasteful. “...sinned.”
Uhtred met his eye and, in an instant, a silent conversation passed between them.
The brief flash of panic in Uhtred’s eyes said ‘say something’ and Finan could only give a constricted shrug of ‘like what!?’
A brief glance to the side where Aelswith was muttering about how long it had been - a scant few days and Finan was surprised it was anything more than a few hours the way the woman went on sometimes - since her last confession said, very simply ‘I don’t know but if I open my mouth now we’re both dead.’
He could do this. Sure he could. It had only been...well no, now he thought about it, late night, half-drunk talks with Hild or Osferth most likely didn’t count as confession at all which meant it had been a lot longer than he’d realised since he’d done this. Not to mention the fact that the English church had unceremoniously adopted the habit of private confession from the Irish church and he’d not the faintest clue how differently they did it because Christ they couldn’t leave anything that worked well enough alone.
Trying to convey all of that to the pig-headed arse who’d gotten them into this mess with just a look was proving to be one language barrier too far.
So, instead, Finan mustered the best West Saxon accent he could, sent a desperate prayer to any passing God that could hear him, assuming that his own had well and truly forsaken him and tried to ignore the way Uhtred’s hands were fisted in his shirt to try and keep them both steady.
“My child...” Uhtred barely suppressed a choked laugh and Finan thumped him as quietly as he could. “...you may, uh...”
He got no further as a quiet half-coughed hic sounded from beside him.
He glanced at Uhtred. Then at the shadowy figure of Aelswith through the wooden grille of the box. Then back at Uhtred who, at the very least, had the decency to looked mortified.
Hic.
Oh no.
“Is everything alright, Father Eadig?”
Another silent but frantic conversation. That ended in Uhtred holding his breath and Finan standing with his hand clamped over the bastard’s mouth which would have been fine were it not for the blood pounding in Finan’s ears and the dark look in Uhtred’s eyes.
Jesus suffering fuck.
“I am just, uh, fine. I’m fine...Lady...you can...”
Hic.
“Shall I fetch you some water?”
Hic.
There was only one thing for it. They were going to be strung up anyway at this rate. It couldn’t hurt and, frankly, if they were going to die then he didn’t intend for them to die horny and hiccuping.
The whole confessional creaked as Aelswith stood and reached for the door.
The point was that it was always Uhtred who initiated this sort of thing. The point was to shock him enough to put and end to this. The point...somewhat got lost as Finan grabbed Uhtred by the collar and kissed him hard and the old familiar burn in the pit of his stomach was ignited again.
There was no poetry in it but christ it was nice.
He was faintly aware of Aelswith’s footsteps outside the door. That she was likely reaching for the handle. That the odds of her finally getting her wish of seeing them swinging from a tree branch were stacked in her favour.
But Uhtred hiccuped into the kiss and Finan had to fight to choke down a faintly hysterical laugh which just give the bastard the opportunity to push back and between that and his wandering hands Finan was hard pressed to give a shit about their impending doom.
“My Lady?”
Beocca’s voice rang out and Finan could have sworn he heard angels sing. Uhtred broke the kiss, that stupid smirk on his face, and Finan could only let himself fall back against the wall and slide down until he was folded on the floor of the booth as his knees gave way beneath him.
“Father Eadig seems to be having some trouble I was just...”
He could see Aelswith through the door now, though the light didn’t penetrate deep enough for her to make them out.
“The king has asked for your advice on a matter, I can see to Father Eadig.”
“If you are certain?”
“Quite certain, Lady.” When Aelswith seemed to hesitate, he pressed her further. “The king was quite insistent.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, Father.”
There was a heartbeat of silence before Beocca pulled open the door and found them breathless and tangled in the cramped little space.
“I’ve known children to be less trouble than you two.”
Finan levered himself up using Uhtred’s knee and sidled out past Beocca carefully. Uhtred remained slouched on the little bench, looking for all the world as though it had been part of his plan.
This round will be open for two weeks and be done on July 5.
All the prompts are alphabetized below, into different categories. Anyone can try writing any prompt and all prompts may be filled by multiple people!
Please remember to tag your completed prompt fill with #TLKFFF2020 and @tlkfanficfest so they can be included in the Fill Post.
If you write only on AO3 please send your links and what prompt it was for to [email protected] to be included.
PAIRINGS
Aelswith/Alfred, first meeting
Aethelflaed/Aldhelm, “Why are you awake right now?”
Aethelflaed/Aldhelm, “you have bewitched me, body and soul.”
Aethelflaed/Uhtred, “Ask me what I did while you were gone; I promise I can draw every action I took back to you.”
Eadith/Finan, Eadith trusts Finan with her life, but she needs to convince him she trusts him with her body.
Eadith/Finan, Finan watches Eadith and Aethelstan and wonders how he got so lucky for a second chance at a family.
Eadith/Finan, he teaches her some self defense
Eadith/Finan, it was never about pleasure for Eadith until Finan
Eadith/Finan/Uhtred, After a run in with some Welsh raiders, Eadith tends to both Finan and Uhtred’s wounds.
Eadith/Finan/Uhtred, relationship negotiations
Eadith/Finan/Uhtred, Uhtred won’t intrude on the relationship building between Eadith/Finan, even though they’ve both expressed interest in him joining so they hatch a plan to seduce him, together.
Ealswith (Sihtric’s wife)/Sihtric, first meeting!
Finan and Uhtred roadtrip
Finan/Eadith: “I never get a full nights sleep around you.”
Finan/Sihtric, a jealous Sihtric but not the “bad” jealous type, more like insecurity. and Finan being oblivious to it until they talk and actually communicate (so angst with a happy ending i guess haha)
Finan/Sihtric, that first night after Finan knows Sihtric didn’t really abandon them.
Finan/Sihtric: “You fought for me.”
Finan/Uhtred with Uhtred catching the common cold and Finan loosing it because he thinks it’s “the sickness”.
Finan/Uhtred, “I’m worried about you”
Finan/Uhtred, stuck in a confessional box. Can be as naughty as you like. Bonus for Aelswith coming to pray whilst they’re stuck.
Finan/Uhtred, they know each other like the back of their hands.
Finan/Uhtred, we are bound.
Finan/Uhtred/Gisela, Uhtred returns a changed man, but Gisela doesn’t mind the Irish warrior he brings with him
Gisela/Hild, hurt/comfort
Gisela/Iseult/Uhtred, Isuelt lives, she travels north with Uhtred and meets the beautiful Danish girl, Gisela. The women want to take their friendship further, will Uhtred mind? And will he be allowed to partake? The women weave a special pagan magic together.
Uhtred/Gisela/Finan is a thing and they need to figure out who is the baby daddy now that Gisela is pregnant.
Uhtred/OC, OC is from Irland and her name is Brigid (like the Celtic goddess) and Finan is like “Lord, we have to take her with us, she needs our help. And I’ll not ‘ave ye cursing us for a second time.” Because he is paranoid if they don’t take her and help her than the Celtic gods will curse the harvest at Coccham.
NO SPECIFIC PAIRING
“A mad ardour upon you to race horses, where the serried host is ranged around; very splendid is the bounty of the cattle-pond, the iris is gold because of it.” - from an Irish poem, ‘May-time’, 9th-10th century, author unknown
“Keen is the wind, bare the hill, it is difficult to find shelter; the ford is marred, the lake freezes, a man could stand on a single stalk.” - from a Welsh poem, 'Winter’, c.11th century, author unknown
“The ocean is full, the sea is in flood, lovely is the home of ships … the rudder is swift upon the wide sea.” - from an 11th century Irish poem, A Storm at Sea, author unknown
A night with Erik
Aldhelm has a Nice Day for once
Aldhelm, resting and thinking back on his life, Finan and Sihtric come across him. They talk.
An Aethelflaed focused story inspired by Queen of Peace by Florence and the Machine
Any pairing welcome, but Osferth would be a great pick, It’s too cold outside and we should share body heat. For survival only of course. Or not… hehe !
Coccham crew get drunk and start flyting against each other
Coccham squad in a naturist camp
Father Pyrlig sneaks healer reader out of King Edwards court for Uhtred and his men to keep safe. She has made an enemy out of Aethelhelm.
Finan and Uhtred roadtrip
Finan has to reconcile his past as conversations with Irland bring his brother back into his life.
Finan, “Don’t pretend like you’re asleep. Should I find a way to wake you up?”(obvs on the smutty side… I can see it already!)
Hild watches the guys train. They show off for her.
Jealous possessive Finan please!
Mafia AU, any pairings
Osferth saves Finan and Sihtric’s life from Danes and has a little smirk at the end.
Osferth, Edward, and Aethelflaed following Alfred’s burial
Radio station AU of any description. Wessex FM, Bebbanburg Beats, Mercia Magic…
Sihtric and Osferth bonding over being bastards
Someone attempts to kidnap Osferth much to his friends dismay. They want revenge against Uhtred.
The Coccham crew get a little tipsy and Sihtric ends up with his most interesting haircut yet
The Cookham squad mourn the death of Steapa.
Uhtred has the hiccups
Uhtred is visited by the actual Night Walker and they have a philosophical conversation around the campfire.
Alfred requests Uhtred’s company on a brief pilgrimage to the sea at the south of Wessex. Uhtred is suspicious of his motivations, especially given the dissenting nature of their religions, but he soon realizes that perhaps Alfred has a bit more than God on his mind when he’s praying.
IMAGINES
Finan, Finan shares his cloak with the reader at the fire to keep them both warm. His hands wander occasionally.
Finan, him being soft and him caring for kids in my life
Finan, reader makes sexual noises to turn him on
Finan, with a Dane reader
Finan/Reader, Finan comes home to find reader gone. They had gotten into a fight that day before he was to go off to battle with Uhtred. She told him that if he left she wouldn’t be there when he got back. Lots of angst with a sad ending.
Sigfried, reader saves Siegfried from an assassin.
Sihtric rescues the reader from drowning.
Sihtric/Reader, Enemies to Lovers, smut should definitely take place. They have been on opposite sides for years until one day changes everything forever.
Sihtric/Reader, reader is a spy sent by Haesten to spy on Uhtred and his men. Sihtric finds her and marches her back to their camp by sword.
Uhtred, the reader is half trapped underneath a horse and Uhtred stays with her while Osferth goes for help. Uhtred flirts and comforts her.
Young Ragnar/Reader, ex-lovers meet again on one fateful day. There is some angst but it has a happy ending.
RPF
Alex/Eliza, accidental kiss at dusk
Alex/Eliza/Mark, it kind of just happens
Alex/Mark, Alex is in love with Mark, Mark is oblivious. Alex comes up with more and more excuses for them to rehearse together. How long can Mark hide his feelings when they rehearse hugging scenes AGAIN?!?
Alex/Mark, unspoken promises
Eliza/Everyone, Eliza’s just touchy feely with her friends
Ensemble (any pairings), some of the cast goes to a music festival for the weekend
Mark raids Eliza’s closet and tries on a few things. (bonus points if what he tries on is garters/suspenders)
Finan x time travel!reader. 824 words. Angst and comfort? This is my first fic.. be gentle :(
Gaelic disclaimer: I d.o.n.t speak Gaelic.
nách mór an diabhal thú = aren’t you the devil
A rúnsearc = secret love / beloved
Finan looked out across the water. Even now, he hated it, and felt only comfortable going in to wash, and even then as quickly as possible. He hated more that Sverri had taken away something that had brought him so much youthful joy. In Ireland there had been a waterfall in a hidden glade. The water was freezing, but when he needed an escape he would take a horse and spend hours there, floating on his back and staring up at the trees. Once his arms and legs fell numb, he would climb out and lie on the grassy bank until he was dry, slowly put his clothes back on, and ride home.
You broke him out of his thoughts with a joyful shout.
“Finan! Come in! The water’s freezing, but you get used to it, I swear.” He couldn’t help but give a small smile in response to your wide one.
You had confused him since showing up on the outskirts of Cookham in late fall, dressed in garb he had never seen before. From far away he had taken you for a boy, but as he got closer he had seen the way the pants hugged your hips, and your shirt had shown a tantalizing strip of stomach before he shook off the sight and wrapped you in his cloak. He had barely found out anything about where you were from, just that it was west - more west even than Iceland - and that it was extraordinarily different there.
Now, it was a surprisingly warm day in spring, and you had dragged him down to the river to swim.
“I’m staying here, don’t ye worry about me,” he called back. With a small frown, you started moving towards him out of the water. He couldn’t help but think you looked like a goddess from the waves as you rose out of the water, shift translucent and clinging to your shoulders, the curve of your-
He sucked in a breath and turned around, aiming to preserve what little modesty you had left.
“Finan? What are you...” Your voice trailed off, and he pictured the flush that must be rising on your face to match his own. “Oh. Ohhhh this is white. Finan? Can you hear me?” He gave a single jerky nod. “I’m back in the water. You can turn around, I just want to know what’s wrong.” He took a deep breath and turned around, placing his eyes five feet above your right shoulder.
“I hate the water. Have for years.” He gave a small shrug and a slight sigh. Your forehead twisted in thought.
“I visited Ireland when I was young. Eight? Ten maybe? We stayed in the southwest, I don’t remember exactly where. There was this waterfall, tucked away in the forest behind the house. It was gorgeous, but freezing,” you laughed. “I went with my dad and brothers. The two of them got cold and lost interest just a few minutes in, but my dad and I floated for hours. We did that so many places. The two of us never got cold. We’d swim in the ocean until our feet were numb and my lips were blue, but never even feel it.”
You had a faraway look, and Finan was filled with the urge to wrap you up in his arms and hold you tight. His hands twitched at his side, and it took more effort to remain still than he cared to admit. You wiped beneath your eyes and gave a faint smile. “Come in? Just a little? I...” you trailed off, then found your strength. “I won’t make you swim, but will you hold my hand while I float?”
The way you were looking at him helped him push the thought of Sverri and the slave ship to the back of his mind. He knelt to take off his boots, then stood up and started untucking his shirt.
“I guess it’s my turn to look away, isn’t it,” you said, somewhat reluctantly, from your position of your shoulders just barely grazing the surface. “You won’t want to get your pants wet.”
“Ach, nách mór an diabhal thú. I don’t mind. One of us must stay half dressed, and ye already...” He gave a feeble arm wave and swallowed before continuing. “What would the abbess say?”
He pulled his shirt over his head and waded into the water before he could give it a second thought. He held out his hand as he approached you, and you looked up at him through wet lashes. You delicately took his hand, and he turned away, staring up at the nearly cloudless sky. He felt you squeeze his hand with a gentle sigh as you relaxed back into the water. He squeezed back, and the freezing cold lapping at his waist didn’t feel quite as hostile as he closed his eyes and whispered to the sky.
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In an unusually peaceful time you begin to share a bed with Finan. Your Coccham home is usually quiet in the early hours but now that your warrior has no physical battles to fight you bear witness to the ones he fights in his sleep.
A/N: Thank you for the request anon! I decided to choose Finan because we’ve seen our Dane boy sleep soundly in so many weird places that I just couldn’t take that away from him. I struggled to write this and idk why, I hope you enjoy it
WARNINGS: PTSD induced nightmares, mentions of past abuse, mentions of slavery, angst! Fluff by the end tho because sexy mcsexy accent man deserves some soft lovin’
The part describing his dream, I just keep rereading it because it’s so good. All of it is just amazing, but that first part oh my GOD. I got chills and tears and more chills, the writing is amazing.
And then the reader trying to soothe him and the fluff, it’s just so sweet and let me say again, the writing. I’m amazed.
After the re-taking of Dunholm you go to find Sihtric. When you do he’s a little bruised and more than a little upset - that doesn’t stop you from loving him though. While you help him bathe Sihtric reveals some of his past and you begin to understand how a man like him deserves to be treated.
A/N: So this is set just after season 2 ep 4, I thought this version of Sihtric would work real well but it ended up really sad so I’m sorry anon, I hope I did your vision justice.
WARNINGS: Mentions of past abuse, mentions of injury, angst? fluff – some real lovin’ being given to our Dane boy who may or may not resemble a rat but he is sad. Really fuckin’ sad
The TLK Fanfic Fest is a prompt based fanfic meme for The Last Kingdom fandom. Prompts are welcome for all characters and/or pairings, AUs, RPF and Imagines. Anonymous prompting is welcome and multiple fills for prompts is encouraged.
Once the prompt box for the first round goes live, we will be accepting prompts for 48 hours, then submissions will close. We will then collect all the prompts and categorize them into one easy to read post.
Prompts can then be filled for 7 days before the next round starts. Please tag all works with #TLKFFF2020 so we can find your fills and put them in the Prompt Fill Roundup post before the next round begins. Do not tag reposts with this tag, only the original post.
Prompt submissions will open on June 18, 2020!
With special thanks to @minimartian @limenal and @lauwrite1225 for their help with graphics/planning.
A/N: so uhhh, just know that I cried while writing this one. I’m an emotional person anyway so I’m sorry if you cry too 😅
Request:
Warnings: flashbacks, injury, dying, Finan and the Coccham men crying… It’s just a sob fest
The Last Kingdom Masterlist
The battle was nearing the end. Danes and Saxons lay dead, soiling the earth with their blood, piss and other bodily fluids.
You could hear the shouts of Uhtred, Sihtric, Osferth and Finan around you, not quite celebrating a victory but you all knew it was in sight.
Finan had kept you within his sights the whole time, making sure you were okay, that nothing was happening to you. You’d been injured in the last fight, you wound taking a while to heal and he’d urged you to stay behind for this fight but you were a warrior just as much as he was.
Summary: Finan x Reader, after trying to conceive a child unsuccessfully for some time, Y/N finally has some good and exciting news for Finan.
Words: 582
Warnings: None? Lots of fluff, lol
A/N: This is my first complete fic for this blog, I hope you enjoy! Thanks to @valhallasubstitute for giving me some suggestions for this piece!
⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️
A pleasant morning breeze swelled into your and Finan’s modest home, bringing along the essence of the pines surrounding Cookham. You stirred on the furs of your bed, stretching from a solid night’s sleep. Lifting your heavy eyes,you observed Finan, already dressed and chewing on a piece of tough bread.
You met him at the table and leaned down to peck a kiss on his cheek.“Good morning love.”
He swallowed. “I wasn’t sure you’d wake. I was praying you hadn’t caught the sickness.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You worry too much. I was in need of good rest, nothing more…well there is one possibility.”
His brow furrowed in confusion.
“Finan, I haven’t bled yet.” you stated bluntly. “It’s been over a month now.”
“Are you ill?” Fearing you might have caught a fever, he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead.”I should fetch the healer.” Finan started for the door, but you snatched his hand before he could exit.
“I’ve just told you I am not.” you held his face in your hands, making certain to have his unwavering attention.
“Finan, I think I bare a child, your child.”
He looked you up and down, as if looking for some physical, tell tale sign that you were with child. Of course, even if you were, there was no way of telling this early on.
He took a step back, in awe of your explanation. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Your husband wrapped you in his arms and kissed your forehead, his thick beard tickling your skin. “Finally! Oh thank you Jesus!” he kissed his cross pendant, which he was never without.
Before you knew it, Finan was dragging you through the streets of Cookham. Your feet could barely keep up with his long, bounding strides.
Uhtred’s men were found in their usual spot, at a large wooden table outside the alehouse.
“Uhtred, Sihtric, Osferth, Father we need to be celebratin’!” Finan bellowed.
“What for?” Sihtric asked, taking a sip of his ale.
Finan softly placed his hand on your lower abdomen. “Y/N carries our first child!” He said cheerfully.
Father Beocca raised his stein, “Praise be!”
“Ah, so his cock does work!” Uhtred exclaimed.
You whacked the side of Uhtred’s head while Finan simultaneously socked him on the arm.
“No need to be an arse Lord. It work’s well, believe me.” he winked at you. “Sihtric should know, his house is very near ours.”
Sihtric shrugged his shoulders in silent agreement. He was not going to bring up the many, many times he’d struggled to sleep due to Finan and your’s excited and sometimes animistic noises. He didn’t want to discuss such things in front of you, in fear of creating a possibly embarrassing situation for you.
“That’s wonderful Finan. I’m very happy for you Y/N.” Osferth’s lips curled into his trademark smile. There was nothing unkind or rough about him. Other than the group of men he associated with and when he swung a sword.
“To Finan and Lady Y/N! To their child’s health, strength and prosperity!” Uhtred declared.
“To Finan and Lady Y/N!” the group echoed. The sound of clanking classes filled the afternoon air.
Joyous celebrations continued into the evening and until the sun dipped from the sky. Finan’s glowing smile never waned the entire day, even as the two of you laid in bed. Though Finan’s eyes were closed, his grin remained until the moment he fell asleep.
⚔️I’m planning on writing a few more parts to this fic, so message me with any suggestions you think might work well! ⚔️
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PROMPT: Finan loves making fun of his friends. Until it backfires on him and leads him to knock on the reader’s door in the middle of the night.
WORDS: 1,375
WARNINGS: none
The men burst out in fits of laughter at the old hall in Coccham. They reminisced about old tales of their adventures across the country. As usual, Finan would delight them with new jokes about monks, not so much because he believed them to be funny but more to annoy Osferth. Unfortunately, the drunker the monk got, the harder it was to pester him. To Finan’s misfortune, tonight his humor backfired on him after his comment on the boy with women.
Osferth’s big eyes shot up to meet Finan’s across the table, and the words were voiced in a slur before anyone could stop him, “Well, what about you, Finan? When are you going to have a woman?”
The Irish man took it in stride, “I have a lot of women, baby monk.”
“I mean an actual woman,” insisted Osferth, “Like (Y/N).”
A taunting smile spread on Uhtred’s lips. They all shared a knowing look. Finan was unaware of what said knowledge was. Uhtred quirked an eyebrow, “He has a point.”
Finan was baffled by the comments, “(Y/N)?! No.”
“Why not?” commented Sihtric, “You are already in her bed every night.”
“Am not!”
Truth be told, it was almost every night. As long as they were settled in Coccham, he would choose your bed above any other. It had been months now, that you did… whatever it was you two were doing. Whenever the you were together, Finan was his best self. He was happy. The outside world could be washed away only with the sound of your laughter. The thought of making you his had crossed his mind countless times, and each time his heart burned as if it had been sent to the deepest depths of hell. He would never admit it, but it made him nervous.
You were a free woman, and you enjoyed your freedom. You thrived in it. In many conversations, you had told him so. And despite his act, with that big smile that transpired confidence, he was scared of losing you. He had waited too long to the point where he could no longer imagine not walking across Coccham day and night to see you.
While you had welcomed him in your warm bed, never had you displayed signs of wanting any more commitment.
“It’s your choice,” dismissed Uhtred, “and there is nothing wrong with it. But wait too long and you will miss your chance.”
“Amen,” Osferth finished his last gulp of ale.
“It’s not…” Finan passed a hand down his face, “You are wrong. All of you.”
They laughed through his exasperation, and the subject was changed. But the thought didn’t leave his brain. He could not bring himself to stop thinking about it. So after they called it a night and dispersed, Finan crossed the small town of Coccham to knock on your door.
The door opened to reveal a very sleepy face. You squinted your eyes through the dark until you recognized him, “Finan?”
He frowned, “I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“No, it’s okay,” You reassured with a warm smile, “I fell asleep waiting for you.”
There it was. The warm feeling in the pit of his gut that grew all the way up to his chest. He pushed it back.
“It’s rude to keep a lady waiting,” smirked Finan, “I apologize.”
You were able to push the drowsiness away just enough, “Are you drunk?”
“No.” He lied.
You watched him with amusement. Your hand stretched out to him, “Come to bed.”
His smirk only widened with the mischief that should not come from a holy man like him.
“To sleep.”
His face fell, “Oh.”
“Unless you would rather walk back to your home and sleep alone?”
“I would not,” He took your hand and was led inside. Finan sat down on your bed as you helped him take off his armor, starting by his gauntlets. The man sighed, like a child, “Osferth made fun of me today.”
“Did he, now?” You feigned surprise. You liked Osferth. He was kind, gentle. Very different from the other men that protected Coccham. And you had watched him be treated as the youngest sibling would be treated in a family. You had guessed it was only a matter of time until he took his own stand.
“Yes,” Finan continued. You proceeded to untie his leather chest piece. “He asked when I would get a woman.”
Your hands froze for a split second before continuing, “What did you tell him?”
Finan was quiet, which seemed like a miracle. It worried you. But then he slapped your hands away and held you by the waist. You stood between his legs as he perched on the edge of your small bed. Finan looked up at you through his lashes like you were the miracle.
“You are the only one I can think about,” He blurted out, “I didn’t want to say it, because I didn’t know how you felt. But I don’t care.”
You were paralyzed, torn between accusing him of drinking too much or falling on his lap.
“You are…” Finan pursed his lips, “Fantastic in bed.”
You raised an eyebrow at him. He was quick to correct himself.
“But it’s not just about that,” He assured, “You’re… beautiful. Inside and out. Your heart is just…”
He tried to gesture it with hands, but failed.
“Enormous.”
Well, this was getting colorful.
“My point is, I want you, (Y/N),” The words slurred out of his mouth, “All of you. And I hope you want me too.”
You were quiet while you took in the drunken love confession that had unraveled in your face. His eyes glistened with hope and fear. Your hands caressed his cheeks, a welcomed touch.
“Are you only saying this to hump me tonight?”
“No,” He sounded offended. “Why, would it work?”
“Finan—“
“Marry me.” Finan whispered. He took your hands in his and kissed them, “I mean it. I want to have babies with you. Lots of babies.”
You laughed, the mere idea brought joy to you. You had never rushed to find someone or get married. The idea wasn’t so appealing to you. Maybe because you had yet to meet the right person.
But the day Finan came to Coccham with his beautiful face and revitalizing personality, deep down your heart, something sparked. Maybe just interest, but after he left your bed for the first time one morning and you felt his cold absence in the sheets, you knew he would be coming back for a while.
Soon, his visits were more frequent, until he would be away for weeks fighting for his lord. But when home, he would never miss the chance to be by your side, and you wouldn’t either.
As the visits got more frequent, so did your talks. Laying underneath the bed sheets you would ask him about his adventures and he would tell you everything you wanted and more. Each time, he held back his promises to take you with him one day, for he knew he should not make such promises to you.
In that moment, he wanted to promise you the whole of England and more.
“How could I ever say no to you?” You sighed. Never, in years, had anyone seen such a genuine smile on the man’s face.
“We are getting married?” Finan asked.
You nodded, “Of course we are.”
In one soft motion he took you in lap so you were sitting on his thigh. He smelled to smoke and ale, but you couldn’t complain. There was something oddly comforting about it all. He brought you in by the nape of your neck into an open mouthed kiss. Your lips moved with perfection against each other. The burning feeling in the pit of your stomach only grew. Your toes curled underneath you as you gently bit his bottom lip before pulling away.
Finan’s whisper was throaty, the edge of a growl, “I think we should celebrate.”
Your laughter was music to his ears. You spoke the truth, you could never say no to him.
NOTE: back on my bullshit!! There’s only a few mentions of the first part, so if you wanna read just this and not the first part, that’s alright. Let me know what you think of it :)
PART 1
WORDS: 1,425
WARNINGS: death, blood, etc. SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3!
The king was dead. Wessex grieved, and the Danes marched.
Your folk cheered and ravished on how they would slay saxons. Bets were made on who would have the most kills, and jokes over who would be the first to fall. On any other day, you would be laughing along and joining them with a heart burning with anticipation.
But not today. Today you walked in silence as your mind wandered elsewhere. To that night in Winchester. Your interaction looped back in your head and brought back other memories from your past. Your past alongside Kjartan, which you had done your best to forget. However, no matter how much you tried there was little you remembered of him before that night.
You marched towards an army, but your gut said you were marching towards him. Sihtric. You would meet in battle. If you did you had no reason to hesitate before killing him. Yet, you didn’t want to. It peaked your curiosity.
Wessex attacked in the woodlands, before the Danes could reach the open field. In a matter of seconds, the fight broke out. The road became a blunder of silver armor and wooden shields. Blood and bones. You fought for your life and the life of your people, and you were good at it.
Until your sword broke. The advantage you held of being ruthless, Saxons had of better equipment. Your weapon was not strong enough. You were on the dirt and a tall warrior hovered above you. Today was the day you’d meet your gods, after all.
A sword slashed through his back and out his stomach. Droplets of blood stained your skin and the man fell to the ground. A familiar face stared back at you, his chest heaved with pants while he pulled his blade out of the dead body.
“That’s one of ours, you fool!” One of his companions screamed from his stance a few yards away.
“Sorry,” Sihtric wiped the blood off his face. He gave you a warning gaze, “It won’t happen again.”
Whether it was directed to you or his friend, you didn’t know. But you wouldn’t take any chances. You grabbed the sword from the dead’s hands and stood up. Your head bobbed in a curt nod. You couldn’t bring yourself to say thank you.
Sihtric returned to the fight and you were left on the sidelines to look at the chaos that unfolded. Danes piled up on top of Saxons. You were losing. You had already lost. Few of your own kept fighting strong, but it no longer mattered. You ran to them and shouted.
“Fall back!”
You slashed a man’s throat, pushed another, you fought through your exhaustion to help those that remained. Soon, there was not one soul left to fight. Except you.
A body pressed against your back and a blade touched your throat. “Enough,” He whispered in your ear. Your leaders had either fled to fight another day, or had long bled out on the floor. But you didn’t see them.
Your grip was tight on the handle of your sword, “So our paths cross once again.” You taunted.
“Drop your sword.”
“I wish to go to Valhalla,” You hissed, “or have you forgotten how death works, Sihtric?”
“You will not die today,” reassured Sihtric, “if you drop your sword.”
Your weapon fell by your feet. You took in a deep breath, “Why?”
“Because I say so,” He smirked, “Finan! Tie her up, she is coming with us.”
The man, the one who had yelled at him for saving you, stared, baffled, “Why?”
Sihtric ignored him, and Finan walked closer to you with a piece of rope he got from one of the horses, as he approached you, Sihtric holstered his dagger. You felt the heat of his body push away as he left.
“Why?” Finan asked you. His Irish accent was thickly laced in his words. You shrugged.
To your despise and discomfort, you were dragged back to Winchester by your enemies. The walk was long and you were not granted a horse. Other than a few looks from some of the men, you were treated fairly well. For a prisoner.
Once you reached their town, a warm welcome waited for you. They praised their new king and rejoiced in their victory. You were taken to the stables by Sihtric, and waited patiently for him to take care of his horse and Uhtred’s. Your hands were tied, so you weren’t of much assistance. He was quiet as he did his work. Everyone else had already gone to the tavern or brothel to celebrate. You could hear the cheers from where you stood. A constant reminder of your loss.
“Why am I here?” You asked once the silence became to loud for you.
Sihtric finished tying his horse to the wood before he answered, “Where would you rather be?”
“Home.”
“And where is that?” You clenched your jaw. There was no denying, you had no home. He pressed further, “With Cnut? Haesten?”
“What is your point?”
Finally, he turned and gave you his full attention, “Why do you serve men who are driven by nothing but their own greed? We are Danes, but that does not mean we must follow them.”
You laughed, “Are you suggesting that I follow the Daneslayer?”
“Uhtred is an honorable man. He is different.”
“I will not turn against my people.”
“Your people left you to die on the battlefield today,” He spat. You pretended the words didn’t hurt as much as they did. He took a deep breath, and moved closer, “I believe you are smarter than that. And I believe we keep meeting each other for a reason. If you wish to return to Cnut, I will not stop you. But I hope you will consider my offer.”
To prove his point, he cut you lose. You rubbed your sore wrists with relief, “What does your lord think of this?”
“Uhtred trusts my judgement,” Sihtric gave you a soft smile. He moved so he was out of your way. You saw a clear path right before you, yet you were conflicted.
“You put too much faith on your beliefs,” You warned.
Sihtric only shrugged and leaned against the stable wall. Truth was, he knew you better than you knew him. He had watched you closely many times. Your face and body had crossed his mind more times than he could remember. Finan had warned him the same you had. You are not thinking with your head, he said. Call him a fool, but his faith was strong on his gods and his gut, and they both told him this was the right thing to do.
“Perhaps,” Sihtric pushed away from the wall and started walking towards the tavern where his friends waited for him. The image was fairly similar to the end of your last encounter, and you found your heart tightening in your chest.
“Sihtric,” You called out, he turned to you in one motion.
You closed the distance between the two of you with a few steps and swallowed dry. You mustered up the courage to say the words you needed to say.
“Thank you.”
You softly stroked his cheek, and on the tip of your toes, placed a gentle kiss on his lips as a gesture of your gratitude. Each pounding heartbeat inside his chest echoed in his ears. As you pulled away, his eyes remained closed for a long moment. His posture was even more rigid than it had been in battle. To Sihtric, fighting was natural. Who he was, down to the core, a warrior. This was new. The way heat rose from his chest down to his stomach, how his entire body burned with anticipation.
He pulled you closer by the waist and locked his lips on yours with a burning kiss. Your hands roamed up his neck, fingers tangled on his hair. This was more than a simple display of gratitude. The kiss was filled with desire, and yearning. It was a bargain. Stay.
His nails sank into your corset, bringing you closer, you leaned onto him. Sihtric forced himself to pull away as he heaved for more air.
“Will you stay?” He asked.
You did not have a proper answer.
“I will stay the night,” You stated, conflicted.
Those beautiful eyes stared into yours. Sihtric nodded. As much as he desired, you couldn’t be forced to join him. If he could have you for one night only, he would make his peace with that. He had waited for you for a long time, he was willing to wait a little more.
