#Saxons/Reader

[idkyetxoxo]

Allure | The Last Kingdom

The youngest daughter of Earl Ragnar, Y/n finds herself in a tumultuous relationship with Sihtric Kjartansson. Their violent first meeting sparks hatred. Amidst chaos, they forge an unexpected bond, blurring the lines between enemies and lovers.

Completed (all parts) →

Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty one, Epilogue.

sihtricxreader (the last kingdom series)

This story is also available on wattpad - Allure | The Last Kingdom by @Unofficalavenger3000 🤍

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐡𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝'𝐬 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warnings: violence

a/n: nsfw included (ha duh)

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ESFP

Gryffindor

Neutral Good

Aries Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Capricorn Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Trusting other's wasn't easy for Uhtred. Well, until a person saves his life.

・It didn't seem like a big deal at the time. The decision was easy to make. With four men against thirty, it was more than an unequal fight.

・Standing out of sight, you grabbed one of your silver-tipped arrows and aimed.

・The leader of the large group of men faltered in his step. His gaze trying to locate the source of the arrow, which had landed exactly where he was about to step.

"Hiding is cowardice," the man bellowed. His thick furs unable to hide his fear.

With a raised eyebrow you huffed, not taking the obvious bait.

・You saw one of the men raise a dagger and as he was about to throw it, you released another arrow. Straight into his shoulder.

・Then the fighting started. It only took ten minutes for it to stop.

・You didn't just have great aim with an arrow, you were deadly with daggers as well.

・Now years later, you're found by Uhtred's side. Where he goes, you go. There isn't an issue with him bringing you along on his travels - he knows you can look after yourself.

・A favourite of Finan's, Osferth's & Sihtric's. As you were the only person Uhtred would listen to. Truly listen to.

・And allow himself to be told off by.

・So the three men think you are some sort of powerful being.

・Osferth actually had a bit of a crush on you for a while. Whenever you spoke to him, he would blush.

・Finan and Sihtric teased him relentlessly, and Uhtred overheard them one evening. But he was not jealous. Not in the slightest.

・Osferth nearly died on the spot when he heard Uhtred speaking though.

"I think anyone could fall in love with them. They make it so easy."

・However, it did take a while for Uhtred to tell you about his past. A long, long while. It came in little packages. As if he couldn't say too much at once.

・Showing emotion wasn't one of his great strengths

・But gods forbid if anything happened to you

・There was a time that you had been kidnapped and he nearly tore himself apart trying to find you. All logical thinking had disappeared.

・He knew he couldn't live without you, but knowing that it was a possibility, hit him like a physical blow.

・You are his heart, the person that he always wants to be around. There is no him, without you.

・For years he did not know what his destiny was.

・But now he knows.

・It's you.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Overly arrogant, flirty (Uhtred) x Absolutely unfazed (You)

"Give me attention." (Uhtred) x "If the world knew you were like this, they'd be shocked." (You)

"Wtf did you do now?" (You) x "It was an accident!" (Uhtred)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

You Save His Life & He Could Not Get You Out Of His Head

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Lívstræðrir by John Lunn, Eivør

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point.

・Uhtred is a giving and passionate lover. As soon as you get time to yourselves, his hands are holding you tight against him. Lips attached to yours in a firm and feverish kiss.

・Behind closed doors is where you see Uhtred's full abilities.

・It's not as if he cannot please you while travelling, it's that he cannot reach the limits that he can when he's able to be fully naked and without interruption.

・At home, with the warm glow of the fire in your joint chamber, he shows you how much he loves you.

・Your naked form underneath his, chest to chest, heart's beating in the same rhythm.

・If you've been apart for a long time, then Uhtred cannot keep his hands off of you, nor can he endure your clothing. Sex is rougher, slightly quicker, but that doesn't mean once is enough.

・No, once is never enough for Uhtred.

・There never goes a night without him at least making you cum. Thrice.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

Arceus Forbid Women Do Anything

Chapter 1/3 | 2,254 words | Rated T

Commandment I: Gaslight

The challenger met the Champion’s intelligent gaze and quickly looked away. They knew what they needed to tell her, they knew that it was important, but in the awe of the moment they couldn’t help but ask— “So you’ve met Lord Volo?” She seemed unsurprised by the question. The challenger supposed that it must have been asked many times before. “I am his Champion, yes.”

Read the full chapter on AO3 or under the cut:

The challenger approached the Champion of Hisui atop Mount Coronet. The Spear Pillar Temple was strangely decrepit for a holy place, where it was said that the Lord of Hisui himself convened with his most beloved mortal creation.

The title of Champion was highly sought by the wielders of Hisui, who longed to impress their almighty deity. Some even spoke of immortality as a reward, to say nothing of the material gifts and fate’s favor. But for as long as the current Champion had held the position—which was to say, the entire recorded history of the region—she had never once been bested in battle.

But that, the challenger knew, would change today.

The Champion stood at the very edge of the temple ruins, staring out at the sky as if frozen in a perpetual state of deep thought. The challenger immediately recognized the colors and styling of her attire as those of the Lord in his most traditional depictions. Fine white silks were artfully draped around her form, and she was adorned from head to toe with emeralds and gold. Her hair flowed in the breeze, only slightly flattened by the ornate diadem on her head.

“Do you wish to challenge the Champion of Hisui?” she asked, causing the challenger to sharply inhale. The woman did not face them, and clearly did not plan to do so without a formal conversation.

“I wish to speak with the Champion of Hisui,” the challenger said, forcing their voice to steady. “There is something that she—you—ought to know.”

The Champion turned around at that, revealing the face of a woman who most certainly did not age naturally. In fact, she appeared to be not much older than the challenger—but of course, appearances could be deceiving.

“I will admit,” said the woman with a slight smile, “that is a new one.”

The challenger blinked. They had not expected such a casual composure from the Champion of Hisui—although, their expectations had admittedly been imprecise. There were plenty of rumors regarding the Champion’s personality throughout the region, and much speculation regarding her team of pokémon, but there had never once been a challenger who had returned with the memory of what they’d experienced. It was common knowledge that when it came to Spear Pillar, the only way to leave with a tale to tell would be to best this woman in battle. Otherwise challengers could expect to return bewildered, collected at the foot of the mountain by rangers patrolling the area.

“Very well,” said the Champion, gracefully rearranging her silks as she sat on the small stairway leading to her former perch. It seemed bizarre for her to lower herself in front of her challenger, until she motioned for them to the do the same.

“Evening the battlefield,” she explained with slight humor as they took their place beside her.

The challenger met the Champion’s intelligent gaze and quickly looked away. They knew what they needed to tell her, they knew that it was important, but in the awe of the moment they couldn’t help but ask—

“So you’ve met Lord Volo?”

She seemed unsurprised by the question. The challenger supposed that it must have been asked many times before.

“I am his Champion, yes.”

A chill ran down the challenger’s spine. His.

“Is he watching us now?”

She tilted her head slightly, and the challenger regretted the tactlessness of their words.

“This is the holiest place known to humankind and pokémon alike,” the Champion said. “I should hope that the Lord is watching.”

The challenger had been warned of this. They took a deep breath.

“I know the history of this world,” they said, “and I know that we are meant to believe it.”

“History?”

“That this world of peace was created from the ashes of another; an irredeemable and infernal world, which had fallen as a result of its own wickedness.”

The Champion nodded. “That is the truth.”

“But I don’t think it is,” said the challenger, nerves increasing with every word. “You have to listen to me, please. I have heard the voice of the old world’s creator, and it has told me the truth.”

“You… what?” The Champion appeared genuinely surprised by this. Distressed, even.

“The old creator was subjugated by the Lord,” the challenger explained frantically, needing to get the words out before said Lord lowered himself from the heavens to intervene. They would face Volo, of course, on behalf of this region’s true deity—but not before freeing the innocent Champion from her Lord’s deceptions.

“A single mortal—the Hero of Hisui, blessed by the original creator—once served as the protector of its divinity. The man you call Lord Volo weakened them, defeated them in battle, and ultimately seized the god’s power by force. He used it to erase that entire world and imprison the true creator’s physical manifestation, taking its place and wielding its abilities himself.”

The Champion did not appear convinced. “But what of the Hero? Was she erased?”

“According to my god,” said the challenger, “they fell.”

“How interesting.”

“But that doesn’t matter now,” the challenger insisted, reaching for the woman’s finely-adorned wrists. “What matters is that you get out of here. He’s going to come down and I’m going to fight him, and it’s going to be dangerous for anyone without godly powers behind them. You don’t deserve to get hurt, when all you’ve done is loyally serve a Lord who does not deserve your fealty. So please believe me, and abandon this temple while you still can.”

It only took one look at the Champion’s face to know that the challenger had failed. Her expression was now stern as she rose to her feet.

“I will not tolerate such blasphemy,” she said, reaching within her silks for a strange-looking pokéball. The challenger narrowed their eyes at the thing—was it wooden?

“I’m telling the truth,” the challenger said, removing their own pokéball from their belt. “Arceus told me in my dreams!”

Something shifted in the woman’s expression at the sound of the true deity’s name. “Arceus does not exist,” she said, releasing her opening pokémon: a samurott.

The challenger decided to engage in the battle, if only to continue the conversation and potentially delay Lord Volo’s arrival. They released their opening pokémon and watched, in horror, as the Champion’s samurott defeated it with a single move.

The challenger took another deep breath and released their next pokémon, whose perfect type match would almost certainly return the favor.

“And even if it were true,” the Champion said, “even if my Lord did not simply create this world from ashes, but set the fire himself… do you not believe that a peaceful world is worth creating?” She replaced her fainted samurott with a typhlosion as if it were an afterthought.

“Not if it took the erasure of an entire world, just because it wasn’t perfect!” the challenger argued, their second pokémon falling just like the last.

“The Lord appreciates the world as it is,” said the Champion, motioning to the decrepit temple surrounding them. “If he were determined to destroy every imperfection, would we still have ancient ruins?”

The challenger sent out their next pokémon. “I don’t care about ancient ruins.”

The Champion shook her head condescendingly as she collected her fainted typhlosion and released a decidueye. “Well, Lord Volo would certainly be displeased to hear that.”

“I’m not here to impress Lord Volo, I’m here to fight him!” Another one of the challenger’s pokémon, done. That was half of their team.

“I’m afraid you will have to defeat his Champion first.”

They took out her decidueye. In response, she sent out a pokémon that the challenger did not recognize—a small black figure made of thick lines, almost resembling the written character L.

“You might as well take that now,” said the Champion, as a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. How could she not see that the entire world was at stake here? If Lord Volo continued to spread his lies, if Arceus could not be returned to its former power, then—then, it would be bad!

“This isn’t a game,” the challenger spat, taking a turn to heal their nearly-fallen fourth pokémon. This was their fastest one by far, and the unfamiliar pokémon seemed to be the Champion’s weakest, so hopefully—

The challenger’s fourth pokémon fainted.

This was not part of the plan.

“Arceus told me to get you out of here,” the challenger told the Champion. “Those were its explicit instructions.”

“Ah,” said the Champion, “so you weren’t prepared for a fight with me. Just with my Lord.”

She watched him with amusement. She understood, then, that even if they managed to beat her team, they would be entering a battle with an actual deity with a single conscious pokémon.

“Unfair, isn’t it?” she taunted, and the challenger could not believe they’d mistaken her as kind.

Who was this woman, anyway? The Lord’s Champion from the dawn of this world’s existence, almost certainly immortal and incredibly skilled as a pokémon wielder…

Their mind still racing, the challenger only half-paid attention as they took out the Champion’s unknown pokémon. In its place, she sent out a togekiss.

A togekiss.

It made no sense. The challenger’s jaw dropped. “But only Lord Volo has—”

“I wield her on weekends,” the Champion said, as the world’s most sacred creature destroyed the challenger’s fifth pokémon.

There was something in her eyes now that the challenger hadn’t noticed before. It frightened them. Arceus had not warned them about this, it had only insisted that they get her out of way—

“Wait,” said the challenger, hesitating to send out their final pokémon. “She.”

The Champion raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip. “She?”

“When you referred to Arceus’s fallen Hero, you called them a ‘she.’”

The Champion crossed her arms over her chest, confusion turning to delight. “I did,” she confirmed with a patronizing smile.

The challenger froze.

“I did not appreciate it,” the Champion told them, “when you called me weak.”

The challenger narrowed their eyes. “So he did defeat you.”

She did not scowl, or even wince. She almost appeared proud. “Send out your final pokémon,” she told the challenger, “and I will show you defeat.”

Togekiss chirped happily and spun in the air. The challenger prayed to Arceus as they released their final fighter: the first pokémon they had ever wielded, entrusted to them more than a decade ago.

Togekiss defeated it with a flick of a wing.

The Champion tutted pityingly as she walked closer, recalling Togekiss and reaching for her final pokéball. “Now, don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said as a pokémon emerged at her feet.

The challenger narrowed their eyes, unsure what to make of the strange misshapen figure. “But you’ve already won the battle—”

The Champion sighed, beleaguered, as the challenger became transfixed by her spiritomb’s magic. “But seemingly, still not the war.” The challenger could barely hear her final words before losing focus completely:

“Send Arceus my regards. I look forward to meeting its next challenger.”

And then everything faded to white.

─────────────────

The Lord Volo’s realm was abundant in daylight. Unless, of course, he wished for it to be nighttime—then the only light came from the brilliance of the stars, arranged into elaborate images of his choosing.

He rested his cheek on his palm, smiling adoringly as his Champion approached his throne.

“Tough day at the office?” he teased, using the modern terminology she had taught him by the light of countless campfires.

She did not kneel, nor did he expect such behavior from his beloved Champion. Instead, she dropped herself right into his lap.

“We should really put a bench down there or something,” she said, playing with the hair of a god as if it were a child’s toy. “The steps are rather uncomfortable.”

“Very well,” Volo smirked, and then snapped. “Done.”

He did not actually need to snap, to create a bench atop Mount Coronet. But Volo had always been one for dramatics.

“Show-off,” said the Champion as she kissed Volo’s lips. The slight change of angle allowed him a cheeky squeeze of her clothed flesh, a brush of long fingers along her waist, and of course one mustn’t forget the chest—

“Don’t you want to know how it went?” the Champion asked, doing absolutely nothing to stop Volo’s exploration.

He smiled and hummed into the skin of her neck, feeling the coolness of her jewelry against his cheek. “Let me guess,” he said between kisses and nips, “you won the battle?”

“Always,” the Champion said, gripping Volo’s hair and pulling him closer. “Well, almost always.”

He recognized the slight self-deprecation in her voice and bit more harshly. Her noise of combined pain and pleasure was a hymn to his ears.

Volo pulled back slightly to meet his Champion’s eyes, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. “Well then, my fallen Hero…” He adjusted the pendant around her neck, the first gift of many from her Lord, so it rested exactly where he wished it to be. “Why don’t you show me how you live in defeat?”

She picked up his suggestive tone and returned it tenfold. “Anything for my Lord,” said the Champion of Hisui, reaching for a particular point of interest beneath Volo’s deific attire.

“You endure with such grace,” Volo praised, running a gentle hand through her hair. The Champion sighed softly and relaxed against her true Lord, far from the outsider Arceus had attempted to make her. 

And indeed, it was good.

[chantsdemarins]

🏰Breath of the Æsir {Loki X Fem.Reader} Chapter 3: Stories Cannot Burn or Disappear

I am so sorry these chapters are taking me so long. I haven't been the same since Covid! I hope the quality is still good...Thank you for joining my crazy medieval AU Loki fever dream era.

There is a bit of Easter and eclipse magic wound up in this chapter!

Summary: Loki isn't the only one who thinks you are more than a human woman, which buys you time while you figure out how to keep your manor and tenants safe. However, the challenge of nursing a debilitated, power-stripped god adds a layer of complexity to your already daunting task, clouding your judgment when clarity is most needed.

Note to Reader: Yes, Hozier is now a character, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you 😭 But which character will he be? Guess and comment!

Passion and Romance Meter: Nothing explicit yet but hopefully you feel it boiling.

I hope these people don't mind being tagged! I thought you might want to be tagged! Please let me know if you don't want the tag or if you want to be tagged. Also comments and reblogs are healing and joyous for me!

@arcielee @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @thomase1 @mcufan72 @caffiend-queen @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbsblr @anukulee @mischief2sarawr @mochie85 @sailorholly @lokisgoodgirl @shambelle97 @lokischambermaid @eleniblue @smolvenger @wheredafandomat @hiroyukinasukawa @meowmeow-motherfucker @latent-thoughts @buttercupcookies-blog @lcolumbia1988 @soulpiercing @wolfsmom1 @mysticmarvelfan

@holdmytesseract @superficialdomina @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @mjsthrillernp @arcielee @poetic-fiasco @gruftiela @thegodofnotknowing @thedistractedagglomeration @tallseaweed

@dangertoozmanykids101 @jennyggggrrr

The clay soil in your husband’s land hadn’t fully absorbed the blood of the Christian god. Not yet at least. The claustrophobic land was hemmed by bogs and marshes, lowlands with the familiar wooden gods made from branches poking out of the muddy banks. The tides to the east would fill the saturated earth till she could take no more before becoming a lake. This system of pooling respiration created a natural barrier for the people. The stillness of the water meant you didn’t stop for long, just enough time to plant your wooden god or light a beeswax candle, burn some leaves as an offering, and then find fast footing across the rickety log bridges built by people no one could remember.

In spring, a carpet of blue wood betony would appear. The town's folk's talk led you to forage it, keeping the blossoms and stems in dark Roman glass, tucked on the kitchen shelf next to the salt. Your husband never noticed your collection, or if he did, he never mentioned it as anything particular or strange. It was a relief to find plants that grew elsewhere, unlike the state of the manor land — high on a hill, flanked by rocky, sandy soil. Collecting plants often made you wonder if Christ might rise from the bogs. You'd just have to wait and see, you supposed, imagining Christ emerging naked from the thick peaty waters, stray herbs clinging to his torso.

Perhaps when Loki showed up, bleeding from his stomach, you'd envisioned something like that before. That desert man had a different name, Jesus of Nazareth. You blushed at the thought of any man, holy or common.

Yet, you didn't blush much while sewing Loki back up. Stitches plunged down his torso into places you'd only seen hinted at on the marble body of Jupiter in Eboracum. Your confident needlework proved itself. If your cheeks reddened, it wasn't from embarrassment but from lack of oxygen, struggling to breathe. Saving a life required haste, much different from the crafts of passing time.

The day the Northmen came you had been already struggling to breathe, you’d lost your air completely and found Loki’s form in front of you when your eyes finally opened again. His hair like ash from the hearth, his eyes the most peculiar color of blue, much like the betony in your waiting Roman jars. Just where had you gone when you’d lost your air? Loki had refused to confront the Danes, refused to fight them. He had handed you back his weapon, leaving you to confront the invaders yourself.

After all, you became a manor wife because your origins had burned in your village's fire, but not in the stories that followed. Stories cannot burn or disappear, especially when people fleeing tell them to the right people in the countryside. Your husband's family had heard your father's tales and believed him. Your hand in marriage was worth more than any dowry. It was all the more disappointing when you couldn't produce an heir or embroidery, and the manor lands remained sandy, rocky, and haunted. You hadn't known a husband should stay close or lie with his wife until Elinor finally told you. Your confidence to heal a stranger, to meet the Northmen at their boat, came from your father. He told you who you were, and like the manor people, you believed him — even if you didn't understand what you were.

The sky had darkened as you came to the mahogany longship anchored next to the wind-ravaged cliffs. You knew to avert your eyes from the mast, the Northern dragon guardian was designed to kill folk such as you. A provocation to your ancestors. There was confusion at their camp, what seemed like hundreds of men were pointing above and shaking their heads. A seer had cast the runes, and the chieftain seemed to not like what the seer had spoken. The rugged man looked up at the sky once more and sent what looked like an envoy to you. He blamed the Norns and you in yet another language you didn’t understand. He could not kill you because it would only curse them more.

Stunned, your trembling hands clutched Loki's blade in disbelief. You ran beneath the still darkening sky, which seemed poised for rain, though no clouds were visible. Looking up, you saw something unimaginable. A planet had fully eclipsed the sun. Your people knew of these events, but you had not witnessed one yourself. As you ran you wondered if the land's spirits had cast a powerful enough curse to scare the Northmen.

Returning home, you found only Loki in the makeshift courtyard, fever-ridden, slumped over the fence. Your heart sank, fearing he was actually dead this time. But the breath of the Æsir still moved through him, you could see his chest moving as you approached.

The village was silent, its people hiding. The only sound was the wind stirring the grain fields and the oak leaves in a dry, papery rhythm. Loki beckoned you inside but he was barely able to move to the porch, he was already worried you’d absorbed too much of the darkness. You fell into his arms, wincing from the feel of his fevered skin through your shift. Significantly taller, Loki's limbs resembled a freshly felled hawthorn. You dragged him closer to the front door, you both were exhausted in the strange day of night.

Your efforts paused for a moment, you readjusted your grip on the stranger. "Saturn is passing over the sun, an eclipse," Loki murmured, breaths faint and labored. How did he know this? Such knowledge was native only to your people. Still reeling from scaring off the Danes, you now faced an eclipse. Loki speculated on the Northmen's possible interpretation of the event. Since much of their knowledge came from his world, he felt he knew exactly what they must have felt seeing the sky darken as you approached.

"They saw the eclipse as a sign of your power. They recognize planetary transits. As you approached them, Saturn crossed the sun's path, a coincidence perhaps in your favor," Loki continued. "But they'll return, and we need to be ready," he cautioned, aware of your mutual defenselessness. He felt responsible for the deaths across these isles, seeking balance, an unfamiliar concept.

You had wanted him to stay long enough to know who he was but now it appeared like he wasn't well enough to be able to leave, even if that is what you both wanted. The truth was, part of you didn't want him to go at all. There was something about him. He knew some of the old ways and where ever he had come from, you suspected again, he had once held a high status.

Loki also continued to contemplate your shared fates. Did the Norns truly allow for this meeting between you as part of the path of the raven’s wingspan, his destiny as a god with no power. He dared to speak to you some of his true thoughts. He felt he owed you some kind of explanation for his resistance to fighting on your behalf.

“Lady, I wish I could help you but as you see I am unwell from my wounds. When I heal, I would like to help you defend your home as part of my thanks, I will find a way to do that does not involve fighting. We have the cosmos on our side it seems, so perhaps there is more luck for our coming together. This is of course if you will continue to have me.”

His pale face seemed even more ghastly, and he laid his body on the porch in a heap, looking very similar to how you first found him. You felt a tenderness stir. You’d felt it for him when you were saving him but now it was tinged with worry for both of your lives and everyone who depended on you.

“Loki I don't want to heal you twice, but it seems this is my fate. Let’s see what you have within you still and if your Gods are listening. I expect you will tell me why you refuse to fight or why you cannot. You owe me the truth. There is much you are not saying.”

He knew he would not be able to hide himself from you as you seemed unable to hide yourself from him. The circumstances unfolding seemed like the actions of reverse spells, instead of concealing they were revealing who you both were. This was vexing to you both.

Despite his sincere words to you, Loki was not sure this troubled land was his final destination. He wondered if he should try and leave as soon as he was able. He was speaking with two tongues. Perhaps he should venture south, go to the Midgard places where panther Gods and pyramids covered in gold existed. Those people were said to do the bidding of the gods with even more ferocity than the Northmen.

Instead, he was sick with fever and stuck with a mysterious, beautiful, and angry woman, whose husband could return at any moment and kill him for what it looked like was happening, even in the middle of a possible invasion. Suddenly his reverie broke as you lifted his shirt to inspect his wound. Your worry for his fever could wait no longer.

"Lady," he said as he batted your hand away.

You protested back, “I have seen you already, why would you be shy now stranger? I need to check your wound, you are feverish,” you continued to pull up his shirt. His gash had indeed become weeping and likely the source of his fever. Whether you liked it or not, you were healing him once again it seemed.

“Wood betony, that is what you need, you are lucky I have some. I’ll see to it Elinor makes you a poultice, and then I am putting you in one of the downstairs bedrooms.” Your eyes were worried even if your words were not. Loki placed his weakened hand on your shoulder, and spoke solemnly, “You know, we need to find your husband.”

You turned your face from him, you didn’t want Loki to notice even the smallest bit of feeling.

“Of course, that is a good idea, this is his manor and his people after all,” you replied. “We can leave when the fever breaks and you can walk without me carrying half your weight,” there was the slightest tinge of playfulness in your words to your surprise. You hoped he did not notice.

As the day was moving into evening, the villagers whispered their suspicions about the stranger you aided. The darkened sky had unsettled them as much as the Northmen. Loki was right, without your husband the manor would devolve into chaos and this would leave the village even more vulnerable.

You watched Loki slowly drag his body to the downstairs bedroom and close the thick doors behind him before you had the chance to redirect him or wish him a good night. You thought better to tell him that he had gone into your husband’s bedroom not the servant’s quarters you had intended for him to rest.

You felt your stomach twist in knots. If your husband came home tonight the wrong impression you worried you would make, would surely be inevitable. You would have to go and move Loki once you were done with your chores. A prospect that left you even more anxious.

Finally, when everyone had gone to sleep and Elinor had gone to her quarters, you stood alone in the empty house contemplating what you should do next. Sleep seemed an impossibility. The eclipse had only been five minutes, but it disturbed the entire day. Now it was nearly midnight and it felt like morning. All time had shifted somehow. Loki sleeping in your husband's bedroom loomed in your head.

To quiet your thoughts you found yourself in the kitchen, sometimes cooking felt relaxing even if you were not good at it. Instead tonight you eyed the row of bottles on your shelf. There was something else calling to you. You grabbed a jar of mistletoe berries, and held them in your hands. Their color was startling.

Suddenly you busying yourself muddling them with the mortar and pestle. If there was a recipe to follow you did not know it, you pulled a few more bottles off the shelf and added the ingredients. Mullein leaves and blackberry.

Pausing for a moment you felt that Loki’s knife was still around your body, you had placed it in a leather holder diagonally across your chest, and forgotten it was there. The knife passed over your breasts and you couldn’t help but touch the length of it.

You hadn't the time to have paid much attention to it before. You noticed the unusual, rich craftsmanship. The inlay was extraordinary. Garnets and chrysoprase. You then gently pulled it out of the holder and carefully pricked your finger with the impossibly sharp tip. This action surprised you.

You inhaled deeply. Crimson blood rolled down your finger and into the stone mixing bowl. You placed your still bleeding fingertip into your mouth hoping to quickly stem the bleeding, but the knife had been too sharp, or you cut yourself too deep.

Quickly, you sucked the wound, blood filling your mouth. You spat the excess into the bowl and placed it on the windowsill, intuitively sensing it needed the moonlight. Just then you heard a deep voice behind you. You were frozen in place, unable to turn around. It was Loki.

"I had no idea you were a seer, you could have told me that sooner and it would have cleared things up," his words rich with sleep and something else.

When you finally turned around you saw he was only wearing his leather trousers and the poultice. Your heart produced a wild, unfamiliar beat, and you steadied yourself against the kitchen table. You weren't a seer, but you could not explain what you were just doing or what you were now feeling.

Before you could stop him, Loki took your mixture from the sill and drank it. "My gods what have you done?" the startled words fell out of your mouth as he placed the now empty bowl back into your hands.

[aemonds-wifey]

One shot requested by the lovely @moonchildrenandflowercrowns

Summary: Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric find out Osferth is no longer their timid baby monk

Finan held up his tankard of Mead and swirled it before sitting on the table in the long house, he scratched his head “Uhtred when are we going for another hunt ?”

“Soon Finan. So eager to get away from Ingrid already?” Uhtred teased

Sihtric took a gulp of Mead “He’s not meant to be tied down eh.”

Finan pointed at him playfully “Your turn soon ya runt.”

Uhtred laughed as Finan looked around “Speaking of runts Where is the baby monk? He’d usually chip in with something about now. And ask where we would venture for our hunt…”Uhtred folded his arms “He might be checking on Y/N . See how her injuries are. I said she could heal at the villa when she felt well enough to go.”

Sihtrics eyes darted back and forth before Finan saw

“Something you want to share boy?” Finan said curiously

Sihtric inhaled “they went to the villa already Uhtred….He is not here …they went Two nights ago.”

Finan”: eyes widened in surprise “He took her up there…and he has not returned ?” He grinned like a giddy school boy.

Sihtric grinned too, Uhtred couldn’t help but smile a little too “She must be feeling better then.”

Sihtric mused “Maybe Osferth has a secret to healing battle worn Vikings ?! “ he jokingly said.

“Our baby monk and the Norse warrior.” Finan almost cooed “Gosh I hope she was gentle with him.”

Sihtric almost spat his mead at Finan’s comment

“I’m only saying! He’s our baby monk and she’s a seasoned fighter , remember how twitchy he was when we first met him? And he’s bedded a ferocious Viking!”

Uhtred tutted slightly “She’s not a wild wolf Finan “

Finan out stretched his arms “I’m just saying…she hardly spoke two words when we found her and brought her back and our baby monk is..well…”

Sihtric laughed “I knew he was full of surprises but this is so unexpected.”

Uhtred spoke next ��Is it? Soon as he laid eyes on her I knew he was smitten.”

Finan nodded “True…he was determined to change her.”

Sihtric exhaled “Seems it worked …look at how she spared Haesten. Osferth said she altered her goal because of him.”

Finan laughed “Maybe he learned a trick or two on taking Vikings at the monastery?”

Uhtred nudged hun “Come on now boys we need to - “

Just as he began to talk the doors to the longhouse opened and Osferth’s head appeared. Almost in sync all the men watched as Osferth came in, closing the door behind him. His hair was slightly ruffled and his hands clasped together and over his front. He approached his friends and sat beside Sihtric.

“Osferth.” Uhtred said.

“Lord.” He said

Their eyes all watched him as he got comfortable , he noticed and almost blushed

“What is it?” He asked nervously .

Finans giggled which extended into a joyful laugh as Osferth’s ears went pink

“Enjoy your stay at the villa?” Sihtric said as he nudged him.

To their surprise Osferth did not deny this he simply only smiled and nodded. With his face turning into a smirk that stretched from ear to ear.

Finan patted him on the back and lifted his tankard “Well done Os. “ he looked at the others “Our man here is no longer a baby monk! “

Sihtric raised his tankard too “They grow up so fast.” He pressed his hand to his chest feigning innocence. Osferth smiled as Uhtred squeezed his shoulder “Does she make you happy Osferth?”

He opened his mouth to answer but Finan spoke first “The way he is grinning I’d say that’s a yes.”

Osferth nodded “I’m going to Marry her someday…Lord.”

Sihtric and Finan’s smiles turned to those of genuine approval and happiness.

Uhtred held his arms out , Osferth stood up and embraced Uhtred - as if brothers in arms.

“You are good for each other Osferth.” Uhtred said as he let go.

Sihtric hugged him next, patting him on the back . Finan got to his feet “You are a dark horse baby monk. Although I won’t make any more jokes…I’m happy for you my lad.”

Osferth smiled with genuine settlement in his face “Thank you…I am happy.”

[wincheskka]

Sometimes I wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me But you told Lucy you'd kill yourself if I ever leave And I had said that to Jack about you so I felt seen Everyone we know understands why it's meant to be 'Cause we're crazy

The Tortured Poets Department - Taylor Swift

(Simm!Master x Reader vibes)

[nostalgia-tblr]

think i will write a second chapter of a fic nobody cared about, just to assert my own weirdness upon the world/AO3.

[zoeykallus]

Hi Zoey,

Would you like to do a Spicy One shot or Spicy Headcanon on Gar Saxon (Clone Wars version) x Reader.

He's a character that I really appreciate on the Mandalorian side and we see very few Fic on him.

I love your writing and I thought you would have a good idea for this character. 😍

Thank you so much.😁

Aloha!

I don't know much about this guy, only the few times we see him in TCW and Rebels. But I'd love to dive in and make my very own wild guess. Let me start with some basic HCs to get a feel for this guy 😊

Gar Saxon - Spicy Headcanons

Warnings: Suggestive/Mention Of Sexual Activities, Kinks And Such/Dominance/18+

________________

This man is tough, unyielding, dangerous, a warrior. But he is not only passionate in battle. A look under the surface also shows that he feels intensely once you open his shell. But don't be fooled, he is still Gar Saxon, he is in control.

How he approaches you, the object of desire:

Once you have aroused his interest, be prepared that he is very engaging. He romances you in quite a demanding way. He is very direct, and be aware, he is full of himself. Gar does not hide what he wants, and what he wants is you. He flirts intensely and bluntly, approaches you, small touches underline his interest, just like his deep, slightly smoky tone he uses. He is a seducer.

Don't play shy or disinterested for too long, Gar is not of the patient kind. For a few weeks he may play the game, woo you, flirt, compliment you, but eventually frustration sets in, and he flirts with others in your presence to show you that he can theoretically have whoever he wants.

Dom/Sub/Switch?

Gar is not a switch. He is in control at all times. The dominant role is where he feels comfortable, when he has you under control, and you are writhing in ecstasy. He loves it when you adore him, act submissive and read his every wish from his lips.

Rough Or Soft?

Gar can actually do, and enjoy both. Even in his dominant role, he can be gentle with you. But either way, one of the first things you two discuss regarding your intimacies is a safe-word, just in case.

Selfish Or Generous?

In fact, he's a bit of both, even if he enjoys your submissiveness and is sometimes a bit condescending, degrading even, it's all part of the game. Foreplay is long, extensive, and even if he is in control, you can count on having at least one orgasm during foreplay alone. He'll never surrender control, but he won't let you fall short either.

Foreplay:

Gar is anything but lazy, the more he can drive you out of your mind, the better. He enjoys that power he has over you as he licks out your pussy, and you moan, squirm and barely hold on to yourself. There are days when he fingers and licks you until you can't cum anymore, and almost beg him to stop.

Favorite position:

Practically any pose in which he is dominant. However, he prefers to have you under him, your feet on his shoulders, your knees pressed down almost to your own shoulders, practically folded under him. In this pose, he feels like he can penetrate you especially deeply and have you completely under his control.

Kinks:

Praise-Kink when you look up at him, on your knees, about to give him a proper blowjob, and tell him how wonderful his cock is. Or you're lying under him and moaning in his ear how perfectly he takes you, it's like balm for his soul, spurring him on and increasing his arousal.

Dom/sub kink, as mentioned before, he likes to be very dominant and likes it when you submit to him erotically, playfully. Just to make one thing clear, he does not expect this submission from you in everyday life, only in bed it brings the extra kick. In this context, he also likes to tie you up,

Dirty talk turns him on, if you have it in you to talk submissively but suggestively, to offer yourself to him verbally as well, you have him in the mood immediately, from 0 to 100 in just a few words.

Sexdrive:

Very high, way above average. It can happen at any time, in almost any place, that he suddenly gets in touch with you. It's not necessarily a kink, but he doesn't mind doing it in public places. He doesn't really mind if you get caught either.

His Love Language:

Protection. One of the greatest labors of love he gives you is his protection. He will stand up to anything and anyone if necessary, for him, it is a matter of honor to protect the beloved partner at any cost. But it does not always have to be a matter of life or death. Anyone who dares to even look at you wrong or get the stupid idea to say something foul to you, should quickly seek the distance.

Attention is another sign, Gar has a certain arrogance about him, but he listens too, you certainly do not always agree, but he will never ignore you.

Gifts. He brings you something from every trip he has to make without you, from every battle. Sometimes it's small gestures that just show you he's thinking of you, but sometimes it's very special, expensive things.

Jealousy:

Gar is probably one of the most jealous people you will ever meet, maybe even the most jealous. He checks every person who comes near you carefully, keeping an eye on everything. When you go out alone, you always have an escort breathing down your neck to keep an eye on you, just in case.

He claims that this is not about the trust he has in you, but about the fact that he does not trust others whom you might meet. Should someone hit on you, it will be stopped very quickly, even with violence, Gar does not hold back. Admirers should be very, very careful if they want to stay alive.

________

AC:

As I said, I don't know too much about Saxon, but this is what my mid came up with, reviewing what I saw/heard/read about him. I hope that's not too far from what you imagined.

________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

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[siena-sevenwits]

Send help. I may be falling in love with Beowulf far deeper than I have on previous occasions.

[lilibetbombshell]

[idkyetxoxo]

Three | Allure | The Last Kingdom

"No, I would never fall for your seductress traps,"

"You just might darling you never know"

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

I sat outside, the metallic clang of my blades against the whetstone echoing in the air as a man approached, urgency etched into his features. "Forty, maybe fifty men, marching toward us on horseback," the Dane announced, directing his words toward Ragnar, who rose from his spot beside me.

"Close the gate and await their approach," Ragnar ordered briskly. The messenger nodded, hastening to carry out his assigned task. With practised precision, I carefully sheathed my daggers, their edges gleaming in the fading light, before rising to my feet.

Soon enough, the silhouette of approaching riders emerged, led by none other than Bloodhair himself. They sought food, shelter, and parley, seemingly willing to negotiate their grievances with Uhtred through peaceful means.

Ragnar, to my dismay, ordered the gates opened, allowing the Danes entry. I shot him a frustrated glance, my disapproval evident as they strode in unimpeded. "That man knows no honour," I muttered under my breath, my irritation simmering just beneath the surface as Ragnar glanced at me and then simply walked away.

A dry laugh escaped me as I spotted Aethelwold among the Danes. Turning to Sihtric and Finan, I voiced my exasperation, seeking consolation in their shared disbelief. "Surely, this is ridiculous," I remarked, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

"They're your brothers," Sihtric reminded me, his words carrying a hint of resignation and accusation. With a heavy sigh, I acknowledged the truth in his statement. "They'll be the death of me," I muttered, watching with a mix of resignation and apprehension as Uhtred entered Skade's cell, walking straight into her web of manipulation.

"Another fun night?" Sihtric's voice caressed the air as Finan departed, leaving behind a trail of lingering intrigue. My brows knitted in curiosity until his gaze slid down to my neck, where the bruising lovebites peeked out from beneath the exposed skin.

A smirk played on my lips as I crossed my arms, "Jealous it wasn't you?" I teased, my tone dripping with mischief as I raised an eyebrow in challenge.

His response came swift and sharp, a tut of denial escaping his lips. "No, I would never fall for your seductress traps," he retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

A low chuckle escaped me, laced with allure. "You just might darling you never know" I whispered, my breath teasing his ear as I leaned in, a suggestive pat on his shoulder accompanying my words. 

With a coy smile lingering on my lips, I glided away in the direction of Uhtred, ready to scold him for whatever dalliance he found himself in with Skade.

──☆⋅☾⋅☆──

In the grand hall, a cacophony of cheers echoed as my brother, Haestan, Cnut, and Bloodhair forged an alliance, pooling their strength to lay claim to Wessex.

Beside me stood Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth, their expressions a mixture of apprehension and reluctance toward the impending conflict. "As their sister, I should be standing with them, but I can see this will not end well," I remarked, taking a measured sip from my cup.

"You're the only one with sense in this lot," Finan quipped, earning a smirk from me. "Aren't I just the complete package, then?" I teased, eliciting laughter from him. Sihtric interjected quickly, "Maybe if you weren't so evil."

"Am I evil?" I asked, turning to Osferth, who shook his head vehemently. Leaning back with a satisfied grin, I responded, "See, even the baby monk knows better." 

Sihtric's retort came swift and practiced, "he fears the darkness of your mind and what you might do to him if disagreed with," he added, eliciting a wide-eyed response from Osferth.

With a reassuring pat on Osferth's shoulder, I leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "Rest assured, Osferth, I only reserve my darkness for the deserving." Tousling his hair, I added with a mischievous glint, "The only one in danger is the rat over there," casting a pointed glance at Sihtric, who rolled his eyes.

"Beauty and brains, what more could you want?" Finan's voice, smooth as honey, accompanied by a grin as he leaned towards me, wrapping an arm around my waist and drawing me closer. With a wink directed at Sihtric and Osferth, he seemed to revel in the attention his teasing garnered.

"A woman who can also behead a man with a weapon smaller than the palm of your hand," I countered in a low whisper, gently moving Finan's hand from my side to the sheath holding my dagger at my waist. Fluttering my lashes at him, I watched as amusement flickered in his eyes before he teasingly pushed me away.

Turning towards Sihtric, I couldn't resist the opportunity to provoke him further, sticking my tongue out at him as he rolled his eyes once more. The tension in his clenched jaw betrayed his inner thoughts, his gaze fixed on the exchange between Finan and me.

Before our banter could escalate further, one of Ragnar's men seized my arm, pulling me into the midst of my brothers' celebration, where the revelry and anticipation for the battles ahead were notable.

Yet, even as I celebrated with the man at my side, my gaze continually drifted towards Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth. They stood apart, their expressions guarded behind tight-lipped smiles.

──☆⋅☾⋅☆──

I watched as Ragnar warmly greeted the two newcomers, and my heart leapt with joy once I recognized Thyra's familiar face. "Thyra!" I exclaimed, rushing to envelop her in a heartfelt hug. 

"I've missed you terribly. These men give me nothing but headaches," I teased, prompting laughter from her as she held me affectionately.

The joyous reunion was swiftly interrupted by Beocca's solemn announcement to Ragnar and Brida. He had come to fulfill the king's order, to formally banish Uhtred and myself from Wessex. Yet, I sensed there was more to his visit as Thyra instinctively guided us away.

Alone with Beocca, we received alarming news of Aethelflaed's peril, orchestrated by Aethelred. Aethelwold's visit to Aethelred hinted at a treacherous bid for the Wessex throne. With Haesten's imminent return, Aethelflaed's hiding place was at risk of exposure. Beocca reiterated Uhtred's promise to Aethelflaed and her unwavering trust in him.

"Uhtred, you cannot turn a blind eye to this," I implored softly, meeting his frustration with understanding. "I know you cannot forsake Ragnar, he is my brother too, but this army he's assembled is not going to stand," I reasoned. 

Uhtred's conflicted expression mirrored the turmoil within him as he deliberated, eventually deciding to confer with Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth as well.

As Uhtred departed, I lingered with Beocca, noticing the conflict etched upon his face. He acknowledged the inner struggle I endured, torn between the loyalty to my brothers, grappling with the weight of a decision made difficult by the relentless pull of destiny.

I made my way to where Ragnar and Uhtred stood, having savoured some much-needed moments with Thyra. As I approached, Ragnar's sharp words cut through the air, questioning Uhtred's allegiance. My steps quickened, sensing tension in the air.

Uhtred echoed my earlier sentiments, asserting that the hastily assembled army was bound to crumble. Ragnar's anger flared as he demanded Uhtred's unwavering loyalty. My gaze shifted between them.

Just as Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth entered, Uhtred declared his intent to rescue Aethelflaed. Ragnar's hurt was unmistakable as he confronted Uhtred, revoking our name for betraying their bond. He was no longer Uhtred Ragnarsson.

"Ragnar do not do this" I interjected, pleading with him to see reason. "These men will only tear you apart further, you're brothers," I implored, gesturing to the men gathered around us, hoping to appeal to the bond that once united them.

Ragnar remained resolute. "My decision is final," he declared firmly. His words cut through the air like a blade, leaving a tension in their wake.

Unable to contain my dismay, I confronted him. "So you would deny your own sister as well?" I questioned, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, a shield against his rejection. 

"If she wishes to side with the traitor, she is no sister of mine," he declared, his tone final and unyielding. Thyra's gasp of shock echoed my own disbelief, a testament to the rift that had formed between us. 

With a heavy heart, I made my own declaration. "Then I suppose I am no sister of yours," I declared, my voice quivering with wounded pride. Swallowing back tears threatening to spill, I turned away, unwilling to let anyone witness my vulnerability.

Retreating to the solitude of a secluded corner, I leaned against a sturdy tree trunk, allowing the weight of my emotions to overwhelm me. Tears lightly marked my cheeks as I sank to my knees, the weight of betrayal pressing down upon me like a suffocating blanket.

Tears rarely stained my cheeks, even in the face of physical torment. I often find humour in pain, a trait others found disturbing, even barbaric or creepy at times but pain has become all too familiar, something I've learned to embrace.

Yet, this moment was different. One of the few men other than my father who embraced the darkness the world draped upon me, who accepted me despite the labels, treated our bond as if it were nothing. As if I were nothing.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped me out of my reverie. As I quickly brushed away my tears, I locked eyes with Sihtric, bracing myself for his reaction. I anticipated mockery, jest, anything but what followed.

Without a word, he knelt beside me, awkwardness evident in the air between us. With a hesitant gentleness, he pulled me into his embrace, and though I accepted it, the unfamiliarity of the gesture left a lingering sense of apprehension.

Despite the discomfort, in that moment, as he held me close, I allowed myself to surrender to the pain, as he held me close.

He was personally experienced with the anguish of being treated harshly or forsaken because of titles, if anyone understood that pain, it was him.

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

Ragnar said not today sis 😔 and dw they aren't getting together for a while there's still a lot more suffering and challenges before they even contemplate any meaningful connection.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐔𝐛𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: a long awaited cross over that I promised months ago.. please do not hate me! Also, Danes = vikings, but the word viking is also a verb. So, you could say 'Hey Ma I'm off to go viking!'.

Saxons = those from England

Celts are an umbrella term for Native Britons who were here before the Saxons.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

It didn't make sense.

Ubbe's shoes walked the length of the boat and back again. Creaking wherever he put his feet, the wind was howling. Even during the day. With the sun high in the sky; not that he could see it.

None of the men or women could see more than five feet in front of them. Once he, along with two other ships left Kattegat, the mist had surrounded them.

Ubbe had the mind to turn back, but he couldn't see the shorline of Kattegat. Only the thick whirls of fog surrounding the boats.

What would have been a long journey, was shortened to mere seconds. And Ubbe was in a place he did not wish to be.

It was a place where his father had died. Where a many great Viking men had died.

But something was different. The time, Ubbe knew it; years had passed somehow. Many, many years. And when he took 4 men into a tavern to investigate, he asked and was told.

Ubbe and his men had gone through 100 years on the water.

・Life had gotten better since Uhtred and his men frequented your village - hell, everywhere had gotten better; not only were the raids less and less.

・But safety and hope were two words that Uhtred of Bebbanberg gave the people

・Well, Uhtred along with his three men - Finan, Sihtric & Osferth.

・You always had a crush on Finan. His Irish charm and humour always brightened your day.

・But he had never ventured for more than conversation and company

・You thought he must have an eye on someone else, but news never reached your ears about anyone else.

・And then something happened.

・Two ships full of Danes had washed on Englands' shores. It was not like any other raid. The Danes spoke differently, their weapons seemed old and the way they dressed was so ... incredibly different to the Danes you all knew

・Where did they come from? Why hadn't any other Dane claimed to know them? And why couldn't they point to where they were from on a map?

・These thoughts plagude you for days. You did your chores and you thought about it, you cooked and cleaned - and thought about it.

・However, curiosity won out and you snuck into the woods to get a better look at the semi-prisoners.

・One man caught your eye instantly.

・And he ...

・He was ... beautiful.

・Outlandishly so, you hadn't seen such a man and with so many unique tattoos...

・His hair was long and braided, parts shaved on the sides and you were taken aback.

・A blush creeping so bright you swore he would be able to see you in the dark - like a beacon of sorts

・But a body had bumped against your own, a hand over your mouth. You bit down - hard and Osferth hissed

"Ow!" He said, trying to keep his voice low as he flung his hand about in pain.

"Well don't do that!" You whispered incredulously.

"What are you staring at?" whispered Osferth, crouching down and following your line of sight.

"No-nothing, nothing, stop it-"

"Ooh got your eye on somethin' then?" he mocked.

・You rolled your eyes and pushed him. He caught your arm and hoisted himself up, catching you against him in the process.

・This back and forth behaviour was normal between you and Osferth. As soon as you met, it had started.

・He knows about your feelings for Finan, and has helped you to gain his attention time and time again

・The only failure in this was the fact that he didn't want to put you at risk. Finan couldn't bear to have you as some sort of target.

・But god did that change when Ubbe started talking to you.

・You decided to help around with the new Danes

・Your skills were highly renound and useful no matter who you were with

・Ubbe did everything he could to get your attention and soon Finan became a shell of his witty self.

・Grouchy and sensitive, Finan couldn't stop watching the two of you interract.

"I mean wha' does she see in 'im??"

"- Finan, please-" Uhtred interjected, trying to calm him down. He did not calm down.

"Just tell her how you feel-" Sihtric exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I - I cannot."

"You cannot what?" You said coming up behind him, the trees and darkness hiding you easily.

・From that day on you and Finan were together, but the subject of Ubbe hung loosely in the air.

・However, your relationship was changed because of Ubbe. Who shocked both you and Finan.

"It is true, I want you. But I want both of you. The funny one as well."

・Finan gulped.

・Your relationship is very loving. It truly is.

・There's a lot of PDA

・But even more affection when people aren't around

・Like casually sitting on each other's laps

・Forehead Touches

・The union between all three of you created something. It was peace.

・Peace settled over the group, a sense of ease becoming easier and easier to grasp.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Shut Up” (You) x “Make Me” (Ubbe) x “Just Kiss Already.” (Finan)

Found Family

Intuitive & Attentive (Finan) x Restless & Flirty (Ubbe) x Witty & Intuitive (You)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Intertwined Destinies

Love Transcending Boundaries

Legacy and Legend

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Scotland by the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra

Golden Years by David Bowie

To Bring You My Love by PJ Harvey

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

I really spend almost every night up past 3am, sitting in a pile of flash cards, studying spoken Old English while blasting nonstop 2000s-2010s nightcore remix comps huh

genuinely few things could be a more concise, yet effective, summary of who I am as a person

[chantsdemarins]

🏰The Breath of the Æsir Master List {Loki x Fem.Reader} A Medieval AU Loki Fic

(I have been very behind but it's not because I am not working hard on this fic! It's a challenging one to write. Maybe my most challenging to date! I hope I still have folks interested in reading!)

Chapter 1 The Embroidery of Destiny

Chapter 2 The Stranger

Chapter 3 Stories Cannot Burn or Disappear

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Summary: Disenchanted with the Danes' misuse of Norse gods to sanction their brutality, Loki finds himself ostracized. Stripped of his divine powers and bearing a severe injury, he wanders into the realm of the conquered. By a twist of fate, he arrives at your manor, where you await your husband's return. However, destiny has other plans.

[aemonds-wifey]

Warrior Queen & Holy King

Chapter 1

Summary: As heir to the throne of your fathers kingdom you have finally won back your crown , now justice is served it is time to pick up the pieces of your old life…and your old love , the baby Monk

The winds howls echoed through the open , cold castle courtyard . A small scaffold was built by the tower, you stood by the small almost ornate wooden block fashioned for the execution.

Your eyes scanned over the crowd, the nobles had gathered to witness this, you stood in your elegant armour- a steal breastplate covered with a cloak made of black and green colours that intertwined with each other.

Then the crowd turned , Two men, arguably two of your best fighters, Finan and Sihtric - followed by loyal banner man brought him to you , Haesten- bloody, battle worn and in chains. Your eyes never left him as they brought him over the light blanket of snow towards you, a rage that had burnt inside you was beginning to dwindle…seeing him helpless and take his final steps up the scaffold- you felt nothing.

When the siege was finished , only Haesten had remained alive, you offered clemency to him- but he openly tried to attack you when you dropped your guard. Only to be taken down by your superior fighting skills, you decided then and there he would answer for his crimes, by execution- by your royal decree.

They dropped him before the block, forcing him on his kneees , he now knelt before the block- at your mercy.

“Do you have any last words?” You asked inhaling the crisp thin air , the wind howled as the light snowfallHaesten ,at spat at your feet - you did not flinch, she only looked down at him pitifully. Finan moved his leg to kick the man about to meet his death but too held your hands up to stop him.

After all these years, all the torment you had suffered- the years in exile you spent away from your home and fighting to survive. Here you stood. Hands firmly on your sword, ready to behead the man who had brought her so much pain and suffering . The man who murdered your parents, tried to kill you in an attempt to take your throne was now going to face justice. Sihtric had offered to behead him by his own hand, but you insisted you passed the sentence, therefore you must be the one to swing the sword.

You gently knelt down , her face inches away from Haestens , your long silver blonde plaited hair that rested over your shoulder almost touched the ground, you paused before

Opening your mouth to speak.

“This is too good a death for you….but I intend to be a just ruler…to show my people that I will not be the wretch you tried to make me….”

Haesten watched as you rose to your feet, firmly holding the sword handle with both hands - you took a moment and in mere moments, you brought the sword down and severed Haestens head away from his body. His head rolled down off the scaffold and into the snow. He was dead. The people watching did not gasp, they looked on as the tyrant they had suffered for five years was brought to a swift end.

Your squire offered his hands to take your sword, you handed it over to him. Watching as the body was taken away to be burnt , after the head was collected you left the scaffold.

Overcome with emotion you sought refuge by the fire in the council room, as you walked through the many hallways of the old castle you were greeted with smiles and bows. This was the first time you had retraced your steps in the castle since that fateful night , It was still so alien to you, when you were named as your fathers heir you were immediately bewildered by the sudden responsibility on your shoulders - your mother was equally proud of this decision, your parents commanded great respect as rulers of their kingdom and they had bestowed it onto you , their only child. Guided by your parents you started your journey onto becoming a worthy ruler …but then it all changed on the stormy late summers night upon your fifteenth winter.

Haesten sought to claim the throne, believing he was more worthy than a girl , he attacked with a cold fury that shocked you to your very core. After he had slain your mother , he held your father atop of the balcony overlooking the large courtyard , you were stood at the iron gate, your fingers gripped on the metal and only watching at the horror before your eyes. Haesten made the foolhardy offer to spare him and let him wallow in exile if you agreed to marry Haesten. Before you could even refuse, your fathers actioned echoed your thoughts. He elbowed Haesten and screamed at you to run, you could only watch as Haesten mortally wounded your father and tossed him aside over the edge of the balcony. The high pitched scream that left your ears only amplified throughout the stone work of the castle, as you were dragged away to safety- the last thing you saw was Haesten crowning himself with the precious crown he had removed from your fathers head after throwing him over the balcony.

A knock on the door turned your attention away from your memory.

“Yes?” You asked removing the cloak from your shoulders.

Uhtred stepped in , bowing his head slightly. Closing the door behind him.

You smiled warmly, Uhtred was the man who saved you from the burning tower the night Haesten sacked the castle, Uhtred taught you to fight and how to prepare to take back your crown.

He looked so proud of you “Haesten is dead I hear?”

You nodded “Swiftly and quickly. More than he deserved.” You said

Uhtred agreed “true…but you have shown you are stronger …takes courage to not butcher a man out of anger …”

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder as you inhaled slowly

“And now you will be a Queen…the mightiest warrior Queen this land has seen.” He said

“Uhtred I could not have survived without you, Finan , Sihtric all of you…I’m eternally in your debt…” you said humbly.

“You have overcome great odds…to win back your throne is no easy feet but you did it…and now the usurper is dead.” He spoke leaning against the stone wall folding his arms.

You inhaled stepping away from the fire, looking briefly at the table littered with open parchments and rolled up scrolls. So much was to be done. You gripped the table end with two hands, looking at the map that was now your kingdom, you looked at Uhtred “I thought you would have wanted to witness his end?” You asked

“I was taking care of another matter …” he said with a glimmer of hope.

“The prisoners…?” You asked standing up straight.

Uhtred nodded only once. “We found them…housed at the great castle on the coast…” he said.

Your heart churned at his words “You mean…? He’s alive?”

Uhtred smiled “Very much…and very eager to see you.”

Your hands clasped over your chest for a moment and your exhaled “Osferth…” knowing he was alive was the greatest news you could have received. Your hand moved to the gap between your tunic and you fished out the small necklace you wore, on a silver chain the pendant was that of a small cross. You held it closely to your lips.

Chapter 2

TAGS

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[joncronshawauthor]

Why Fantasy Readers Should Dive into Historical Fiction: 5 Must-Read Novels

As a fantasy reader, you might be drawn to the novels of J.R.R. Tolkien, George R.R. Martin, and other masters of the genre. You revel in the magical realms, mythical creatures, and epic battles that define the world of fantasy literature. But have you ever considered exploring the equally enthralling world of historical fiction? Historical fiction novels share many of the same qualities that…