#rip to ragnar

[sticks-and-souls]

Din putting Grogu in front of Paz’s kid, clapping back at him about The Creed, and then having Grogu fucking annihilate him in combat helped me understand how rivalries can transcend generations.

[oysteringofclamelot]

Foundlings Stick Together

*Grogu clomps in on his new legs”

Ragnar: if you’re here to brag about your dad’s latest gift, I don’t want to hear it.

Grogu: No

Ragnar: You’re not going to show off and make me look like a fool?

Grogu: No *awkwardly sits his long legs down and pats Ragnar’s shoulder*

Ragnar: You’re... comforting me? 

Grogu: Yes.

Ragnar: Because of my dad?

Grogu: Yes.

Ragnar: Thanks buddy

[ragnars-tooth]

Zanna averted her eyes. Her gaze was still fixed on Bonnington’s cat flap when she heard the front door close.

“Question,” she said to the listener, in dragontongue. “What colour were his eyes?”

“Brown,” it replied. Zanna swallowed and felt a sudden weakness in her back. When she’d first met Tam, she’d remembered them as blue.

I will never shut up about Zanna seeing the ghost of David in Tam and Tam having to act as his surrogate for most of books 4 and 5. He makes me insane in an evil way

i liked the sketch for this so you can have that too. miserable bastards, the both of them

[sagabrielle]

i respect athelwold's character because he was introduced, and proceeded to serve so much cunt that uhtred had to kill him. icon.

[joanthangroff]

Ragnar, as soon as he’s left alone with a Christian: … so, religion, am I right?

[spicysucculentz]

what’s gonna happen to poor ragnar?? it would be kinda poetic if bo adopted him or something……

[felixeis003]

Well. This aged poorly.

Ragnar and Grogu become best friends, masters of mischief, organize heists to steal sweets, are a Menace™

Paz and Din can only watch in desperation as they realize their sons are inseparable and they therefore have to tolerate each other

[ms-oswald]

homesick | chapter one

author's note: and here we go with a new Finan series! A tad long, but hopefully still an enjoyable read :) a BIG thank you to @persephones-journey for helping me through this! ❤️ banner credit to @arcielee 💜 Lots of love & stay safe 💕

     “I will be forever the man who killed the great warrior Uhtred.” 

That was how their story started.  

The ground quivered underneath heavy hooves, horses running on adrenaline as their riders intercepted the illicit briberies by the shore, the beach’s cold waves straddling the sand within its grasp. 

Restlessness tightened the throats of the warriors, its claws urging movements of rescue. 

The slavers scattered away, fear shadowing their hastened steps with the hefty trample of the cavalry and unsheathed swords harmonizing behind their backs. 

The captives were nonmoving, confused as they watched the violent spectacle unfold in front of them. A mix of screams and the whistling of weapons ripping through flesh ached their ears, the gasps of breath and strangled voices caused shivers as they watched bodies falling over their pushed-in blades. 

She climbed off her horse as Ragnar called for his brother, his feet following the path towards the sunken man.  

She stayed behind, standing by Steapa’s side – a man of Alfred’s – and watched as she saw her friend cradling his younger kin softly sobbing in his arms.  

“Did you believe we would abandon you?” A soft smile etched across his lips, his shoulders heavy at the sight. He was partly relieved to have found his brother while the other was distraught at how he came to be. 

No response came from Uhtred, the air filled still with soft strained cries.  

Ragnar lifted his head to meet another slave standing a couple of feet away and glanced down the line to his right, taking in the presence of the others. 

“Free them all.” He ordered, somber, his mind racing and angry.  

She followed his command and marched forward, going for the chains before breaking them at each of the captives’ ankles. She set them free one by one until she reached the last; by then he had undone it himself, and quietly picked up the sword that laid at his feet.  

She stilled and let him be, curiosity prickling her skin as her eyes shadowed his movements.  

He stumbled hastily towards the remaining villain trying to escape for his life, his venture destroyed.  

She watched as the poorer man pointed the tip of his blade at his slaver, the cause of his infernal calamity.  

Sverri turned slowly, now face to face with his demise.  

The sudden shove of the blade through the throat startled her; she froze, unable to look away as death violently greeted the enemy, the body falling on the ground. 

His eyes glistened as relief washed over the liberated, the soft panting bruising his chest while he turned to his right, meeting Uhtred’s gaze.  

No words were exchanged, only a delirious grin stretched across the other man’s dirty cheeks, a long gaze holding them together.  

She sighed and turned her head as Ragnar called for her. “Care for him.” She sent a firm nod his way and placed her sword back in its scabbard before shifting the other way and carefully approaching the newly freed man. 

He hadn’t noticed her, still trapped in a thick fog, a void that seemed unescapable. 

It was the sudden crackle of a fallen branch that awoke him, startling him. He focused his sight on the figure walking towards him and quickly lifted the sword at her. 

She stopped, her hands in mid-air as her sign of surrender.  

“I am not here to hurt you, I promise.” Her tone was soft, almost coaxing him to let go of his defense. 

He stared back, dazed, and fell to the ground with a quiet breath out. 

She drew near him and took a seat on her knees as her hands rested on his jawline, carefully tilting his head to see if he had any other bruises. She took note of the roughness of his skin and the older marks covering him. 

“Do you have any fresh wounds that need tending to?” She was gentle with her words as she let him go, her fingers resting on her lap. 

He shook his head, signaling a simple ‘no’. 

“What is your name?” 

The moment of silence settled between them, his eyes focusing on her with reality dragging him by the collar of his shirt. He took in the hint of worry, her gaze giving him attention that had gone missing in the recent years of his life.  

“Finan.” His name left him, a last breath across his broken lips.  

A faint twinge ran through her heart, leaving her aching. She hid it with a careful smile, introducing herself to him in return. 

“I am Kára.”  

Her name rung in his ears with his eyes taking in her features and retracing the way her darken hair was intricately braided into rows by the sides of her head and tied at the back, its texture looking soft – a sinful invitation to touch and caress the strands. To the way the tiniest of knife mark scarred the skin under the edge of her right eyebrow, a thin red line still looking fresh. He then glanced downwards, falling into steps with the harmonized colors hugging her pupils – the warmth of honey at the center, its sun bursting through the ripples of old oak trees sprinkled with flecks of moss at its roots. Such complexity in their design were cast his way, unconsciously enchanting him.  

It took him a moment, but he continued his path, glancing to the fresh bruise on the right side of her jawline to the pink of her high cheekbones, a dimple nestled comfortably from the upward curve of her full lips. 

He stared, unable to part from her – as if the delusion stripped him of his senses. An unexpected presence, he breathed her in slowly, her delicate endeavor weakening his muscles to a state of release and comfort. 

A stranger had become his rescuer, aiding in his conquest to freedom and wiping clean his bloodied hands. 

“Can you get up for me, Finan?” Once more, the symphony of his name coddled his ears. It was the cautious way she held his letters, a wounded animal – anxious and afraid. 

He did not utter a word. He simply followed her movements as she placed his arm around her shoulders, helping him rejoin the others while slowly realizing that his worst nightmare was finally over. 

     The warmth of the campfire surrounded them, the air tranquil as they took comfort in the food filling some of their bellies and the gentle sound of the crackling flames tickling their ears. 

A bowl in her hands, she quietly listened to the conversation unraveling in front of her, occasionally glancing up to follow the sound of voices. Her gaze eventually landed on Finan, the man sitting on the ground to her right, and took in the way his throat seemed to have softened, his chords clearer than earlier today; she noted as well the thickness of his accent rumbling at the back of his palette, bringing a light strain to her heart at the thought of her past. 

“You’re... Uhtred’s brother?” 

Sitting on the other side of the Irishman, Ragnar turned to him as he spoke. “I am.” 

A sly smirk across his face, his eyes glanced from one to the other as he continued. “You look nothing like each other.”  

The group shared a small chuckle, Ragnar smiling at the man’s comment; Kára hid her grin as she cast her gaze down her bowl. 

“Uhtred, you should eat.” Hild took her turn, offering him a plate. Instead, he faintly shook his head, denying the gesture. She then turned to Finan. 

He politely refused as well.  

“Oh, we will eat, lady... but our tummies are small and our feet have barely touched dry land. It’ll take a little time to find them.” He gently spoke, his reasoning prompting her to simply nod as she placed the dish on the ground. 

Ragnar picked up the conversation, his inquiry directed towards Uhtred’s apparent new friend. “Are you his brother?” 

The answer came in slowly, his thoughts ravishing his tongue with revelations.  

“We are... we are bound, I would say.” Uhtred eyed him, clear emotions striking the blue of his eyes. 

Kára observed him, noting the depth of his words as they silenced their circle.  

She remained wordless, a simple spectator as her eyes wandered with her mind traipsing amongst hundreds of thoughts.   

She hadn’t noticed he turned to look at her until he called for her by simply tilting his head her way, his voice a tad louder as it echoed in her direction. 

“What is ya story?”  

She met his gaze, the darkness of his hues glowing against the gentle flames that danced in front of them. 

She smiled at his question, the stretch of her lips dimpling her left cheek. “I do not have one. I am merely a loyal warrior of Ragnar.”  

At the mention of his name, they met and lingered as they shared the smallest and comforting of grins for one another; such an expression had gone unnoticed to the Irishman as he turned to speak to Uhtred, a cheekiness laced in his pitch. 

“Ah, so she is not one of yours then, Uhtred?” 

She snorted, rolling her eyes as she fell back into her conversation with him. She teased, her demeanor slightly exaggerated for the laughs. “Luckily, I am not.” 

She earned a chuckle from him, the rest of the group falling into the background.  

Ragnar had dropped his gaze, his laughter calming, before lifting his head back up. “Kára has been- is, one of my closest and trusted friend.” He turned to her once again, an understanding passing between them – ships in the night. 

The air settling down, she went on, taking away the chance for Finan to prod a bit more; she had preferred to keep parts of her past private – the peering gaze of a stranger throwing her off as attention was never her strong suit.  

“Him and I have known each other for a very long time. We share some... common history.” She took a sip of her ale, swallowing before ending her take. “That is all I will say, Irishman.” 

She gifted him a smirk, and swung her cup for another chug of her drink.  

He let it be, their night continuing with timid conversation flowing around the fire until it had slowly dissipated, its need for sleep growing stronger as the flames slowed. 

“I apologize.” He took a leap, standing close to her as she was reaching her tent. “I did not mean to be rude earlier.” 

She smiled reassuringly, calming his worry. “I did not see rudeness in your questions.”  

“I just wanted to get to know the woman who saved me.” She was left speechless for a moment, taken aback by his words. Her dimples carved further while nodding, his confession settled. “Hmm, another time, perhaps.”  

He caught her grin, his own pushing for a soft stretch as he watched her; perhaps such small promise had rose the sparkle in his eyes.  

“Goodnight, Finan.”  

A light tug strung within his ribcage to such a short song, her voice spelling out his name with hidden mischief; he cleared his throat, recovering from the sudden summersault. 

 A shudder of courage coursed through him, giving himself the chance to unravel a built-in moment. 

“Goodnight, Kára.” 

To the first time he said her name out loud, any reason for solemnity had crumbled at their feet. Her ears tickled, oddly enjoying the way he pronounced her syllables, the lilt across his tongue sweet and gentle. 

     They tore themselves away from the small crowd, as she had promised him, finding a secluded spot where she could clean his wounds.  

He had been hesitant at first, ashamed to bare himself in front of anyone’s eyes. 

It had been the kindness in her words that made him leaned towards agreement; he was still capable of tolerating the wear out of his dry skin and the ache on his back, hiding the desperate need for a cleanse.  

The sun sat warmly at the horizon, flickering its strokes of orange glow upon the high grass and wild flowers that surrounded them. 

Finan sat facing the sun, his back bare to her; her heart stopped and pulled back her breath, clutching at the rag in her hand, while her eyes retraced every whipped mark that bore deep across his skin – fresh and old. 

She stared silently, tears nestling the corners of her eyes.  

He held onto his shirt against his chest – or whatever was left of it – his eyes following the path of the skyline, attempting enjoyment of its warmth as it sought his presence. 

Kára swallowed a breath as she wet the piece of cloth and gently pressed it against him, starting from his shoulders. 

There was a comforting stillness between them, a voiceless exchange that remained transparent in gestures; the sting of the newer lacerations transferred to tension in his muscles – she would stop, giving him a moment to adjust to the numbness as it carved his back. 

“I brought some ointment to heal with the, hmm- with the cuts. Would it be alright if I use it on you?” She asked gently, her tone soft, sowed within the calmness of their space. He tilted his head to his right, his chin to his shoulder as he nodded wordlessly.  

She swabbed some of the thick salve against her fingertips and gently pressed them across the fresher lashes; her movements were slow, giving him the chance to adjust to the texture rubbing against his skin. 

He closed his eyes, the warmth of her palm moving alongside the bruised bones and torn muscles, a shadow cast from the path of his spine; she felt the tension vanish amongst his shoulders letting a pained smile grace the corner of her lips as she continued with her repetitive motion, dipping into the oil before brushing it against his cuts. 

He focused back into the setting sun, the touch of her hands gone. 

He turned his head and saw she had gotten up, walking around to find a seat in front of him. 

Voiceless still, he watched her as she placed the small bucket of water by her side, the rag making another appearance. 

The light’s glow was striking her adoringly, brightening the hazel of her eyes, as a soft golden glare cherished her pupils while sitting on her knees. She gifted him a passing faint smile as they met, pushing her hair behind her left ear before dipping the cloth into the water.  

She leaned towards him, a curved finger under his chin to lead his tilts, and tenderly cleaned the scabs scarring his features.  

She had been focused on caution, wanting to minimize the sting he would feel; she had not realized he had been staring, observing her with an undefined awe underlined within his hues. 

They had known each other but a few days – words were scarce, glances curious, contact but a feather. But she could still see, examine, his presence, her mind wondering about the stories that tore him down, bruised his skin, shattered his bones and burned his clothes. The pieces of his past life woven into the strands of his dirty hair, anecdotes shaping his rough beard; the depth of his irises – an acute deception painted brown, were a strain of the earth within its streams, a river crying in silence. 

It was all she could capture, stubborn cracks that remained shut, the surface threatened for rupture but never caving in. 

A soft breeze had cross through them, stiffness holding his breath. 

She stopped, pulling away. “Is something wrong?”  

He met the frown sitting across her brows, the worry shadowed behind her stare. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, taking a breath as he shook his head and tightened his grip onto the muddied shirt stuck to his bare chest. 

“N-no.” 

Her hands fell upon her lap, the wet cloth limp as her head slightly tilted sideways. “Finan, you look pale- are you feeling ill?” 

“Just nauseous.” He struggled to say. His lungs depleted once again, his breath carrying him on. “The smell of the seas… it haunts me.” 

It had been the second faint breeze that made her realize the heaviness of his words; she glanced downwards, a saddened lip curve straining her cheek as she pushed her hair to rest behind her shoulders, regretting having undone her braids. 

She was born with the sea carved into the marrow of her bones, its waves but a welcome embrace, its air – a comfort to her lungs, her skin forever finding treasure amongst the saltiness of the waters. Her darken locks, shadows to the wind, a disciple honoring a god at its altar. 

“I-I am almost done.” 

He tried to apologize, the attempt at the tip of his tongue.  

She could only timidly smile, noticing the way his mouth had moved. 

She stopped him, pushing herself to sit straight, with nothing but softness – understanding, at the edge of her words. “But if you wish, I can ask Hild to finish-” 

He quickly interjected, guilt-ridden. 

“No, it’s alright. Please, st-stay.” 

“Are you certain? I don’t want-” 

He grabbed her wrists, purposely interrupting her, eyes locked. “Aye. Please.” 

The sliver of despair shaped the sunken figure in front of her. 

She quietly breathed in, the ache in her chest seeping into the air in her lungs. 

She then nodded, settling back as the rag swam back into the bucket, refreshed for its task. 

Quiet relief hugged him, a child in its mother’s arms as she resumed cleaning his scars, her finger hugging his chin as she brushed his skin in a tender motion. 

Cloth then gone, he silently watched her, his hues following the movements of her arms as she picked up her ointment, her fingertips covered in its texture before she leaned his way again and caressed the traces of dry skin that had comfortably settled over his brows down his cheeks.  

An unfamiliar comfort settled within him, its breath like a gush of wind, a warm breeze welcomed under a summer sun.  

He closed his eyes – a small gesture that came naturally; a way to take in the feel of her touch, to swallow such softness in repair against brute swings. 

To his parched lips, she remained delicate, the gentle tickle across them almost timid.  

“Do not eat the salve, Irishman. I know it might be tempting, but it does not have a taste suited for your stomach.” Gentle humor strung behind her words, her tone inciting light air between them. 

He exhaled a chuckle and met her gaze. He saw a speck of mischief buried in her hazels, the tiniest of spark reaching for him by name. 

Silence settled once again, her fingertips grazing over the edges of his mouth and stray strands of his beard as the thick texture coated his skin. It was a simple gesture, meant for nothing more but to progress healing yet intimacy brewed quietly – discreetly – to her every careful touch caressing him.  

Finan couldn’t help but look at her; she had taken her curious chance as well, glancing every now and then to meet him. He could not shake away the wonder of her, his irises following her features once again, mindfully retracing every inch under his eyelids. 

He needed her in memory, a calming presence to the storm drowning him. 

A steady pulse to his ragged heart. 

It had taken another moment before she broke away from his space, a satisfied sigh slipping through her.  

The salve fresh on him, her eyes quickly fell to his covered chest before looking up at him, her teeth nibbling at the inside of her cheek as she sat back on her heels. 

Shame had tied him down, the shackles ghosts on his ankles. 

She wiped her hands on her trousers and took a breath before she reached for his hand, placing it between hers, ignoring the roughness across his knuckles.  

She caught his attention, his focus placed on the way her mouth shaped her thoughts.  

“There is nothing to be ashamed about, Finan...” She was careful with her words, not wanting to agitate him. 

He listened, waiting. 

“But if you are uncomfortable, I can leave and let you finish by yourself. I can leave the bucket and cloth, and the ointment if you need to apply it to any cuts on your chest and stomach.”  

His left hand gripped tighter onto the shirt that pressed against him, keeping himself hidden away from her. Her heart broke, seeing him slightly pull away from her.  

She eventually let him go and got up, fetching the bag she had brought with her. She turned and sat back down in front of him. “I’ve also brought these if you want to change.” 

He remained mute, attentive to the way she remained on her toes, mindful – prudent. 

Conflict within him had left him speechless, unable to conjure but a simple and hoarse ‘thank you’ her way.  

She lingered, sharing a comforting smile his way before she got up to her feet and walked away.  

He had remained put, only turning his head as he watched her go.  

She was braiding her hair, gathering her locks over her shoulder for the finishing touches. 

His heart sank in slight regret, his feet dipped in its cold waters. 

     Within the next year, uncertainty – shyness, had dissipated into the air.  

Kára had remained in Winchester with Ragnar, waiting for the time to take on Dunholm and finally revenge his father’s death and save his sister. 

Finan’s discomfort slowly broke down into pieces, dust in the ground, finding ease in knowing she would stay. 

He was still growing accustomed to his freedom, searching for routines as he settled in his new home. 

The sense of normalcy wrapped around them, roots crackled through the ground, binding itself to their feet; an intricate dance, it was a quiet pursuit of affection and banter. 

It had been the way she had kept helping him with his wounds, making sure they were healing properly, re-applying her salve whenever it was needed and striking conversation on random topics, his need to solve her mystery – a desire that was burgeoning deep within him.  

She had a flicker of intrigue gnawing at him, the scent of a delicious meal teasing him consistently.  

He wanted more, ached for more of her. 

Her sense of humor was in stride with his own, their banter instinctual with every playful remark naturally bouncing off of each other - a connection that seemed to have always been present, simply awaiting dawn.  

From the timid lingering gazes they started to share, a subtlety hidden under the nights cover where the glow of fire hid their innocent secret - on the nights where men were gathering and drinking, a rowdy bunch causing playful ruckus amongst their space, or the times where settings were quiet and a longing would seep through the air, embers floating about, an ache for a touch squeezing beneath the breastbone.  

To the taunting coquetry bursting under sunlight, its heat setting them ablaze; such as when he would call her out on her flirtatious manners, fumbling the poor blacksmith's apprentice heart with a witty smile and a wink - an attitude he teased he thought was reserved for the likes of him alone. Or the times where Kára would intrude on his attempt to court a barmaid as she would serve them drinks to their table, the words of his friend suffocating under exaggeration and leaving him embarrassed with the women's light laughter.  

To the moment she swept him off his feet, her strength, his cause to stumble and fall as they initiated training, a need for refreshment into the art of combat; their swords clashed until she used her body, catching him off guard, and forced him to the ground. She had quickly followed, her knee pressed against his chest as she hovered above him, the smugness rosing her cheeks.   

He could only chuckle, impressed at the way she had smoothly defeated him. His hands in the air, signaling surrender.  

It was the abrupt physical closeness that threw her off, the adrenaline slipping away as she caught herself staring at him; he stilled, unbothered by the weight of her form while admiring the way the freckles of the green in her eyes seemed to have had a mind of their own, luring him into their dreamscape.  

It was the air in their lungs, pushing through tirelessly until recusing itself from liberation, the violent pull of its body leaving his throat dry, her own parched.  

The past circumstances were of no consequence - it had been but amicable foolery.  

It was the sparkle in his eyes, his parted lips nudging her over the edge, the impromptu need to feel him close suddenly a necessity.   

She had quickly pulled herself away as if nothing of importance transpired, both going on about their day, their weapons in hand, training still.  

It hadn’t meant she never shook away the care and fondness she had been feeling for him, but she knew there was something more and hoped to the gods it was just a reverie. 

“She’s just a friend, Uhtred.” He had repeatedly said, convinced there wouldn’t be anything less than that between them. A part of him was heartbroken, a sliver hopeful there was a possible chance there could be something else – attainable, at the reach of his fingertips.  

It had been the short voyage she had done, visiting her father for a couple of months, that tugged the specks of truth out of the dirt; it was the days spent without her that unsettled him, solitude creeping through the shadows and haunting him until it became a part of him – a habit attached to his hip. 

It was her arrival back in Winchester, her presence back into his life that tore away the desolate atmosphere, his mind slowly forgetting ever being separated from her. 

     The time had come. 

It was the middle of the night when the small army of men traveled alongside the forest path leading to the Dunholm fortress. 

The march was quiet, to each in their own mind as their feet carried the heavy weight of their armor and weapons. 

"This is where we part.” Ragnar had stopped the troops, his hand held up in the air as his gaze landed at the top of a slope. “We will show ourselves only when we know the east door has been opened.” 

Uhtred then met his gaze as he turned to him, listening still.  

“We will attack. Then it is up to you to save us... We will be lambs to slaughter.” Brother to brother, their eyes met, Ragnar almost out of breath.  

“Lord...” Their attention had shifted to Clapa, the gentle giant praying to Uhtred. “May the gods be with you.” 

Beocca quickly intervened, rectifying in his own way the other man’s well-wishes. “Um, God, may God be with him, us.”  

A small smile slipped across Kára’s face as a low chuckle escaped her; she had been standing by Hild and Brida’s side, silently watching the exchange.  

Finan heard her, his eyes shifting to her where his own cheeks intuitively burned from the silent smirk he wore for himself. 

Uhtred threw his own snicker, stepping closer to his brother, his words directed back to Clapa. “You just watch over Ragnar. Hmm?” 

The brothers then joined hands, their grins fading into sober expressions. 

“Good luck, little brother.” 

Uhtred pressed his forehead to Ragnar’s, both looking into each other's eyes, preparing for what was to come. 

“See you all in Dunholm.” 

As they bid their goodbye, Finan quickly marched to find Kára just as she turned to look at him. 

Even in the dark, he could see the hint of worry cast across her hazel gaze. Knowing she would be in the thick of the fight was heavy on his chest; he feared for her, a sentiment he hid from her.  

He silently took her hand in his, their stare never breaking. He brought their hold to his lips, pressed a reassuring kiss to her knuckles and lingered for a moment – short enough, yet had given them the split of a second they needed for encouragement, for a hopeful victory. 

He eventually broke away, letting go of her as he followed his group. She stayed and watched him go until a soft pat on her back from Clapa pushed her forward, walking in line behind Ragnar and Brida. 

The night moved on, a half-moon hanging in the sky and casting a shadow above the fortress with its light hitting the serpents that draped around their crosses. 

Ragnar and the others waited as they watched the fortress’s gate. 

“We rest. We wait.”  

At his words, his men started to relax, removing their helmets and setting down their weapons. 

Kára still faced the stronghold, her heart thrumming between her ears; Ragnar noticed as he looked around, and turned back to her. 

His hands clasping the neck of his armor, he leaned sideways and whispered in her ear. 

“Your Irishman will be fine.” 

She rolled her eyes, a low chuckle out as she glanced his way. “This is not the time, Ragnar.” She tried not to think of Finan, not wanting distraction to limit her focus on what they needed to do – a task that had become ineffective. 

“This is the perfect time.” He teased, the smirk clear across his face as he bumped his shoulder against hers. He earned himself a genuine smile, her dimple apparent on her right cheek while she shoved him back playfully before walking away. 

A breath exhaled as he watched her joining the others, his own grin slowly disappearing.  

As morning rose, they waited for their signal; a fired arrow to be launched into the sky. 

And when it showed, Kára’s heart stopped.  

“Are you ready?” Ragnar’s voice pulled her out of her trance, the lump in her throat swallowed as she turned to him, silently nodding to his inquiry. 

He lingered, catching the faint glow of the sunrise across her eyes. He was not convinced, a part of him sensing hesitation wavering within the streams of her pupils.  

“You can stay with Brida-” 

She stopped him, a hand to his chest. “I swore to be by your side, Ragnar. This means at the front as well. I won’t abandon you.” 

He sighed, giving her a curt nod as they lifted fists for a quick bump.  

“Let’s move on then.” 

She held onto her weapons and followed him as the first unit marched away from the forest towards the north entrance of the fortress. 

Adrenaline burst in her bloodstream, her body moving through the motion from the moment she held her shield by Ragnar’s side, forcing entry against the doors of Dunholm until they were inside, battling for victory as she took on some of Kjartan’s men coming her way. 

She had no time to think, her mind sent astray as her muscles pushed through, the sound of swords clashing and boisterous screams filling her ears.  

Within the horde of falling warriors – in the midst of chaos, Finan found her fighting fiercely against their opponents, her weapons gripped tightly as she swiftly pivoted and struck them down, protecting Ragnar who stood closely by as he was caught in his own battle.  

The Irishman caught in combat as well, he could only quickly glance her way with slight panic gripping at his insides.  

It was the sight of a soldier running towards her and Ragnar, spear in hand that pushed further strength to his bones.  

He was about to intervene, coming to her defense, when she turned just in time. Without second thought, she dropped her shield and grab the shaft, its metal edge escaping her by an inch away from her waist to her back. She grabbed the weapon and pulled it towards her, dragging its owner as well, until he stopped her just as quickly and nudged her his way, violently grasping her by her throat.  

She tried fighting him off, reaching for the small knife that was hiding behind her back when her assailant went down, crippled to the knees as blood seeped from his mouth. 

She pushed herself away, slipping to the ground as the body landed in front of her. She then looked up, catching her breath and saw Finan standing with his hand stretched out for her to take. 

Relief washing over her, she took his help and stood up, panting a grateful ‘thank you’ his way. He only nodded, breathing out a smile before they parted again, the battle dying down slowly with Uhtred calling for a shield wall. 

The Dunholm troops stuck to a wall, they made the square. Kára found herself standing by Finan’s side once again as Ragnar entered in a duel with Kjartan.  

Her heart stopped, anxiety crippling her to a frozen state as she watched her dearest friend face off his oldest enemy, revenge at the tip of his sword. 

She watched as he tumbled back to the ground; worry carved deep into her form, she grabbed the hilt of her sword resting in its scabbard, ready to jump and help when Finan stopped her, taking her hand in his. She looked to him with a slight frown. All she received was a tight squeeze, a silent signal of reassurance, promising her the outcome will work out in their favor.  

She held onto him, unable to let go as she watched the fight again, Ragnar’s strength overpowering Kajartan until the very end. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her gaze fixated on the way the young Dane battered the dead body, partly horrified at what she was witnessing.  

Her ears muffled at the sound of Brida’s voice, her own tears stinging the corners of her eyes without her knowledge. 

It was the sound of his scream, a guttural sound leaving the crowd dismayed, that tore at her chest, an anguish searing through her heart. 

She hadn’t realized she still had Finan next to her, hand in hand; he gave their hold another squeeze, waking her slightly as she mimicked the motion, adding pressure to his knuckles. 

And when Thyra appeared, the sunken look across her face, the growling wolves by her side – the moment she had lost herself to a scream, vulnerable and confused, Kára flinched, taken aback.  

Finan quietly pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her as if to protect her, hiding her away from the scene unraveling in front of them, heartbroken and distressed.  

     She was unable to find slumber, her eyes fixated over the fire that burned at her feet, the crinkle of the wood pieces its only sound. 

She was lost in her thoughts, her mind drifting over and splitting her apart.   

Her shoulders felt heavy revisiting today’s events – she had never seen Ragnar fight like he had done, his rage taking over every fiber of his being, destroying everything in his path. 

Chills ran down her spine, the echo of his scream engraved into her ears – it had grown faint and distant but remained for now, a haunting image she tried to erase.  

She found solace in his revenge complete, and knew that meant as well it was time to move on; her duty fulfilled by his side, she was now given the option of either staying in Dunholm with him or leave and continue with her sea-driven life. 

She had known her answer already, the illusioned scent of the salt in the air filling her nose. 

She snapped away from her wandering, a cup of ale floating in her view. Looking up, Finan was standing in front of her with a soft smile faintly glowing from the campfire light. 

She quietly accepted his offering before he took a seat by her side, both of them taking heavy sips. 

Concern etched across his brow as he glanced her way; she had yet to speak, noticing her thoughts still holding her hostage. 

He said nothing as well, unable to voice out his worry, struck from the way she was being held upon the flames ahead of them; rogue locks of hair tickled her cheeks in the dark, her hues bursting in amber – sunset radiating across the horizon, with the corner of her lips caught between her teeth, pensive. 

He hadn’t realized she had been staring back at him, her mug empty as she placed it on the floor, her attention shifting to him. 

She moved closer to him, her knees purposely bumping into his, and laid her head on his shoulder.  

He held in his breath, taking a moment for himself; it had been disrupted at the feel of her fingertips searching for him. He wound his arm around her, his other placed on his lap, mingling with her.  

He then placed a soft peck on her forehead, his lips lingering in place before resting his cheek against her. 

She closed her eyes, taking comfort in her friend’s arms; a refuge in the dark, a treasure she had recently found. 

Her mind drifted, forcefully pushed away, unwanted. She was plagued no more, simply breathing in the scent of ember floating in the air with the faint breeze of a cool night. She nestled her nose further into his neck, the whiff of his scent easing her muscles, slowing down the thumping under her ribcage. 

His shadow engulfed her, cradling her with care – a natural pull, pieces finding each other’s edges back into place. 

She didn’t want to let it go – she needed more.  

“Finan...” He heard her voice mumbled against his throat, inaudible to the remaining men around them. 

She slowly pulled away to meet his hues, her breath, ghosts over his lips. 

The air stuck in his lungs, he watched the shimmer of the flames dance around the colors in her eyes as they held his gaze – soundless secrets traipsing from one to the other.  

Instinct called out to him, his wrist hovering above her shoulder as he delicately pushed strands of her hair behind her ear before he trailed downwards, stroking her cheek mindfully. 

She leaned into his touch, air escaping her in comfort.   

“I am in dire need of a distraction tonight.” She paused, tilting her head slightly as she reached the heel of his palm, her lips resting over his skin. Her eyes never left him, taking in the way he stared at her, the depth of his browns unwavering.  

She felt the skip in her heartbeat, the sudden stumble of her pulse before falling back into step; she had been denying it, desperately needing to be unencumbered by a soul tethered to normalcy. She knew she was to leave, and so logic dictated she couldn’t grow attached. 

But a part of her ignored her claim, pushing her to her knees as a way to free herself to her desires. 

“Care to join me?” 

And he was resolute in giving her whatever she wanted – a need of his own, even for just one night of companionship. 

She pulled further away from him, his hand dropping to her lap. He then glanced at her lips, his throat dry, before meeting her again. 

He picked up his drink, chugging down the last sip and placed the cup by his side, turning to her. 

He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips as he kissed her knuckles. “Lead the way.” Determination hidden behind his voice, he spoke low, a slight rumble shaking his chest. 

Lacking delay, Kára pulled him to his feet and marched away from the campfire, the fortress asleep under her light footsteps with the couple scurrying away into secrecy. 

Once they reached her room, Finan walked towards the hearth as she locked the door behind him. 

He took to lighting up the space while she made quick work of her armor, removing every piece and moved towards the bed. 

She remained in her tunic just as Finan finished, the fire burning comfortably in its nest. She pulled him up to stand, her hands undoing his own, reaching for his sword belt, the pauldron covering his left shoulder down to the forearm's braces covering his wrists.  

He let her be, helping her with the finishing touches until she grasped at the leather tunic he still wore and pivoted, making him sit at the edge of the bed. She straddled him and resumed her task, discarding the remaining of his clothes covering his chest until he was bare. 

She then stopped, breathless. 

She pulled back, on his knees, and admired the way his muscles had grown – she was not blind to the way his arms had taken heat, the tissues flexed and defined, naturally settling back into his body.  

He stilled, watching her as her fingers slithered down to his stomach. He then reclined, lying on the mattress with his hands to her hips. 

A shaky breath escaped him, a sudden wave of shyness crossing over his cheeks. 

She cursed under her breath, mesmerized by his thriving strength, suddenly titillated by the thought of his body carnally pressed to hers.  

“Are ya sure about this?” 

She smiled, a smirk dimpling into her cheeks. “I am. Are you?” She could see a slight hesitation shimmering in his eyes, her smile dissipating as she waited for his answer. 

She hovered above him, arm bent by the side of his head, the other tickling his chest hair into random patterns. 

“Aye.” 

She teased him, ghosting her lips over his as he chased her, desperate for a kiss.  

She pulled away instead, wanting to spell out the intention of their night.  

“We’re simply two friends helping each other wash off the day.” 

She could not acknowledge the ache she felt in her heart, a craving she hadn’t felt for a time – a longing she needed to push aside as the night did not call for it. 

‘Just for the next few hours...’ she repeated in her head, a prayer to herself. 

"Whatever you say.” Lost in the intimacy gripping at them, veins tying them together through flesh and bones, Finan could hear the thrumming of his heart between his ears, her hazel hues eyeing him, unrestrained. 

“This won’t mean anything in the morning, alright?”  

Conviction – an attempt to keep such shady truth to herself. 

He barely registered her words, enthralled by her presence – the sheer power she had over him in this moment, a feeling he willingly bowed down to.  

He was aching for more, anticipation scorching his fingertips as he held her in his arms.  

He grasped at the fabric of her shirt, tugging it from the back as he chased for her his lips faintly grazing over her own. She sighed against him, sudden urgency pulsing through her veins.  

Pulling away from him, she reached for the hem, quickly pulling it over her head before discarding it.  

She ignored the goosebumps traveling up her spine, her eyes cast down to meet him.  

Finan muttered, cursing in pleasure at the sight above him; a faint throbbing between her legs, she bit her lip as she watched him fall in a trance with the feel of his palms warming her skin from her hips to her chest, his thumbs caressing the sides of her breasts, teasing her.  

He then took notice of a small mark in the middle, a vague discolored shape nestled on her chest. He traced it over, earning a soft sigh to escape her as she dropped her head downwards, looking over his hand resting on her naked skin.  

She kept her eyes on his hand, locking in the movement as he trailed further up until he reached her neck to her jaw, fingers stroking her chin and lips. 

She shifted her eyes towards him as he sat up, nudging her closer until he felt the pink of her skin graze him. 

Impatience settling between them, the rush to fall into oblivion was rapidly growing, ready to burst from the seams.  

The soft breath they shared, intimate in its dance – the harmony of steps flowed back and forth in want, its essence playful, taunting. 

They continued to undress each other, Kára grabbing onto the lace of his pants before Finan swiftly turned the tables, making her lie down on her back; the sudden movement had her squeal in shock though laughter caught up as he loomed above her, smugness clear in his eyes. 

He took his chance, parting her covered thighs as he lowered himself atop her, his weight leaving her pleasurably breathless, and closed in the distance, finally pressing his lips firmly against hers. 

It had been something he had wanted to do for a long time; to feel the warmth and softness of her skin affectionate upon his. 

He grew intoxicated as he slowly devoured her, relishing in the way he easily quivered under her touch, its ringing descending into his core. 

He could not stop, wanting to breathe her in continuously, swallowing the scent coating her limbs where even the remnants of the ale tasted sweet across her tongue. 

The soft sound of her moans, captured at the back of his throat, trembled under his chest. 

She lost sight of the moment, pursuing the sparks of delight he created, fervently licking at the crumbs – famished.  

Eagerness clawed through veins, sinking them further into bliss and away from the shore. 

The last piece of clothing fell to the ground, delivering her under his mercy as he started trailing down her chest, kissing her birthmark and sucking at her breasts while his hands slipped down to her hips, holding her in place. 

Heavy breaths filled the air, her back snapped away from the mattress as she grasped onto the bed sheets, his dexterous fingers seeking warmth between her thighs.  

The soft sounds of her moans, his name whispered pleasurably across her tongue – a sweet song he held onto, a savory feeling he needed to taste over and over again. 

They spent the rest of the night entangled within each other, both bodies falling into the depth of ecstasy, flesh tainted in bruises and sweat, hardened grips and trembling chords at the helm of their embrace. 

He had become addicting, constantly looking for more – begging for more.  

The way he was taking care of her, making sure she found pleasure under his touch, dedicating every waking breath upon her body; he was unknowingly filling her need to be held, and protected, and cared for.  

Following such a trying day, Finan was soothing her worries, hushing the noise away for the simple bliss burning at their feet. 

     He had expected her to leave as soon as they were done, uninterested in giving time to a calm afterglow.  

He held in his surprise when she lingered, lying on top of him. She had been ready to leave, carrying on with the rest of the night but the timid caresses across her back had stopped her, finding comfort in the way the motion of his fingertips could easily soothe her. 

She gave herself a moment before slipping away, a strained whimper escaping at the back of her throat as she fell next to him.  

“Fuck, this felt good.” She exhaled, both of them staring up and breathless. He ran his fingers through his hair, chuckling softly before turning back to look at her. 

“You’re welcome.” He teased. 

He saw the stretch of her cheeks, her voice vibrating a laughter that shook her chest. She pivoted to him, a smirk gracing her reddened lips. “Are you boasting yourself now?” She shifted, lying sideways as she placed weight on her left elbow, her other hand against him. “Might I remind you, Irishman, you were practically begging heaven as you so dearly and desperately called for me.” She teased him, her nails lightly scratching his chest hair as they danced upon his skin, creating layers of shivers running amuck.  

“Really?” He mimicked her movement, shifting to face her. “And do tell, show me how needy I was for you.” Hand to her jaw, the thickness in the roll of his tongue caught her off-guard as he tugged her his way, the smugness within his gaze heating up her cheeks.  

She tried shaking it off, pretending to think it over. “Well, let’s see-” She turns to find his lap, sitting atop him as she pushed him to lie down. “Oh, fuck, Kára!” He chuckled as he watched her with a grin, enamored by her theatrics, the extravagance in her movements and tone. “Yes, oh god- Kára, you feel like fucking heaven-” A bellowed a laughter from the depth of his lungs, he caught her in his arms, retaliating as he started pinching her, tickling her until she gave up her guard and fell against him. He swiftly shifted, lying her on her back and hovered above her. 

“Is that how you think I sound?” Her breathy giggles fanned across his lips as she nodded, biting her inner cheek.  

Locking eyes, they were attempting catching their breaths as laughter gently died down; though amusement had filled them for this short moment, it had dissipated for heavier air, their chests heaving as Finan settled between her legs, his arms above her as he tenderly stroked her cheek down her chin, his rough fingertips nudging her bottom lip and giving them a quick glance before meeting her hazels. 

He then leaned forward, a soft bump of her nose to his before kissing her. 

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, her knee bending by his waist as she fell in his embrace. She just as quickly kissed him back, her lips parting wantonly. 

The caresses were slow as they took their time. It was the way he held on, the strokes languid – untidy, as if to coax secrets out of the marrow of her bones.  

She followed, a beggar under the weight of his body as he lured her into a state of bliss; they stilled, bodies unmoving with only her soft sighs gracing his ears for every other split of a second apart, a short breath out of water before diving back in. 

Her palms slid up, tracing the muscles of his arms as they rested above her head; she searched for him, wanting to hold his hands. He slowly pulled away, catching the soft honeyed glow around her pupils, silently reaching for her, fingers interlaced comfortably. 

Once again, he brushed the tip of his nose against hers before trailing down to kiss her cheek, her jaw and down her neck, nestling against her. 

She tilted her head his way and slipped her fingers away from him as she hugged him, gently scratching the back of his neck. 

He sensed a change in her demeanor, slowing him down. “Are you alright?” 

A small smile curved her lips. “I am now...” 

He pulled away, looking at her, intrigued. 

Solemnity covered her shades of brown in her gaze, casting shadows across her features. “You had my back today...” 

There was wonder in the way she was looking at him, a soft hint of astonishment furrowing her brows. 

A faint lopsided smile stretched his mouth, a reassuring gesture. “You were looking out for Ragnar. Someone had to look out for ya.” 

“What of you?” She stroked his cheek, placing a soft peck to his lips as he settled next to her, arms around her with her back partially laying against his chest. 

“I don’t need anyone to watch my back. I am too quick for anyone to catch.” He teased, the playful tone in his words making her chuckle.  

“Your agility knows no bound, is that it?” He heard the grin in her response and only huffed a chortle, the sound shaking her.  

Silence sought them afterwards. 

They remained still with Finan nestling against her, taking in the warmth of her body as he pressed his lips across her neck and shoulder. 

Her eyes fluttered shut, listening to his breathing and the faint sound of his beard scratching her skin; serenity smothered her bones, holding her tightly for safety and comfort.  

“Thank you for this...” She whispered under her breath. She then turned around, settling against his chest.  

“No need to thank me.” His tone – lullingly shaped into the way she pushed herself closer to him. 

A coy smile across her face, she placed a kiss on his collarbone and mumbled against him, her hands slithering down to his stomach, rubbing palm to flesh. “I could definitely use someone of your... agility, for a good hump every once in a while.”  

A throaty chuckle escaped him, resonating while smirking as he turned to her. “Does that mean we will be doing this again?”  

She pivoted as well, one leg carelessly thrown around him, her breasts pressed to him. “Sure.” She gave him a nonchalant shrug and proceeded, leading him on, taunting him playfully. “I don’t see the harm unless you-” 

“No harm at all. That is alright with me.” He held up his hands up in defense, tackling on the banter she had initiated. 

“Good.” She bit the skin inside her lip as she moved to straddle him once again and straightened her back. Hands to her hips, he remained with the smug look across his face, stroking her bare skin, the callousness of his touch desperately welcomed. 

His hues followed her silhouette, from the way desire had colored her cheeks to streams reaching the sparks across her eyes, to the way her braids had grown disheveled and pushed away to rest on her back, down the marks he had left earlier tonight, sweetly decorating her chest and further down to the way she hugged his hips, as if to anchor herself atop him, not wanting to part. 

He sat up, wrapping his arms around her as his head fell backwards, meeting her gaze. She cupped his cheeks, her thumbs faintly running over the corners of his mouth and across his bottom lip. 

“Now, do you think Uhtred will mind waiting for you?”  

“I’m sure he’ll understand.” He caught the tip of her finger, as he locked gaze with her. 

With a stifled giggle, mischief glowed within her hazel eyes, anticipation rising in the pit of her stomach. 

“Let’s make him wait, then.” 

--------

xoxo

taglist: @gemini-mama @iamfandomnerd @ladyinred2248 @gco95

[shinjisdone]

To Soften a Warrior’s Heart (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn; Part 9)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors. Though it is more difficult than anyone can could ever imagine…

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet and crawl your way into Thorfinn’s heart (based on season 1; both platonic and romantic)]

Part 1 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 14 and how he is at that age

Part 2 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 16/17 + headcanons of growing closer (slightly following s1 story)

Part 3 is here - blooming friendship with Thorfinn (slightly following s1 story)

Part 4 is here - Thorfinn unwittingly opening his heart as he realizes he does not want you to die

Part 5.1 is here - sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 5.2 is here - other sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 6 is here - meeting Canute and becoming his guard - Thorfinn accepts your relationship and bond

Part 7 is here - Canute grieving over Ragnar and Thorkell catching up; Thorfinn leaves you alone for revenge

Part 8 is here - Thorfinn wins against Thorkell; Questioning your bond with Thorfinn

Part 10 is here - Thorfinn and you bound by heart; Promises of Vinland broken and abandoned

Tag list:

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets

Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Only mentioned and used as examples. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: Slave woman purchased just to be killed, meeting with Leif, Thorfinn not giving a sht about Leif :( , and you are like??? bro that is LOVE, he loves you!!!!, THORFINN U IDIOT, Askeladd and Thorfinn dueling, Askeladd snapping, lots of plot-driven dialouge, Askeladd spittin facts, lost Thorfinn]

No, I Don't Want It, I Don't Want It, I Don't Want It...

No more was this a viking band - the majority has been killed by their own leader.

This was now the newest vessel of the youngest prince of Denmark. Leading of what remained of the men with Askeladd being his right-hand man.

Sailing along with all the tricks in the book that he had, all of which he had learned in his life felt like it was meant for a moment like this, for a future king like Canute.

And you had no choice but to go along with it if you wanted to keep on living.

Askeladd seemed more alive than ever. Youthful even as he grinned and spoke and chatted with Thorkell and Canute as if he had been waiting all his life for an opportunity like this. You and Thorfinn had never seen him this upbeat before, unless he was with Björn.

The man in question was still on a mat, resting though.

So in his usual fashion, the older man confidently stood on the boat with his typical shit-eating grin while crossing his arms. He spoke with carefreeness to the prince as they neared a dock in York. Left and right a crowd congegrated at the incoming ship, whispering among themselves on the return of prince Canute.

Yet as loud as their curioustiy was, deadly silent was the arrow that pierced the vulnerable chest almost precisely.

A thud ensued and a scream from your direction caused a commotion from the docks. The ship hurried to land and brought the wounded royal quickly to aid. While few ran over to him, another hurried away from the scene.

Clothes were ripped apart as someone abruptly stopped from taking out the arrow. The weapon was deep but what truly caused many to gasp and back away, was Canute himself approaching the dying woman.

You watched with a glare of anger (or perhaps pity? Indifference? Shock? Disgust?) as Askeladd casually trailed after Canute while letting out the obvious elephant in the room that someone apparently wanted him killed.

The leader made sure to purchase a slave with a form and stature similiar to the prince to act as bait. He ordered you to cause a commotion on land to have the culprit panic and escape from the scene - and then have Thorfinn silently get rid off him. To show the assasins that Askeladd is well aware of their presence and capable of taking them all out.

He has his tools for it, after all.

"Play the dumb but genuine witness," He grinned as he pointed at you before shooing you and Thorfinn out of his sight. Do your part and you'd all safely arrive at York. For now.

The perpetrator was cut down and the commotion that was supposed to bring the attention on the dying woman unfortunately was also brought to Thorfinn.

Still with his arm in a sling, he found himself surrounded by a few guards who also shadowed the culprit but put the blame on the young blonde instead. You hurried to him but even so, your own acting wasn't really able to save him.

"As if!" One pointed out, "You're just a kid, just like him! Obviously you two are in this together so you are trying to save his skin!"

"I told you, it wasn't me. It was him, he had the corssbow in hand."

Still, the guards were not relenting, drawing their swords at the two of you. Behind them was a much smaller man who called out, though his voice was way too meek compared to the spitting insults of the guards.

One insult too many and one step too close to you, and Thorfinn took one out with a single biff. As intimidating as the men seemed, they quickly turned tail and ran off at the sight of his two daggers.

"Thorfinn Karlsefni!"

The young lad who took Thorkell down with just two knifes - gossip turned real at the sight of the beaten blonde.

The scene clearing out so fast left you a bit relieved - perhaps speechless even. Would tension like this cease so quickly in the future too, whenever the name 'Karlsefni' was uttered?

Still, one stayed - the little man in the corner you had noticed. His green tunic was well kept for someone his age, short with half of his light hair already gone on his head. With his moustache spikey but kept short as well as his shining but wide eyes, you doubted this old geezer could pose as a threat.

"...Thorfinn...?" He muttered in a horse voice, "Thorfinn...Son of Thors? Are you the son of Thors?" With each word, he gingerly approached. You watched as Thorfinn merely rose a brow before his own eyes widened.

"...Uncle Leif?"

You watched with bated breath.

The hand on your weapon had long ceased shaking and resting upon it yet still; It was balled into a fist at your side.

Your eyes darted between the two men and their exchange of the past. With your back to the wall behind you and Thorfinn resting on the edge of the dock as this 'Leif' never seemed to stop talking about Thors.

About Iceland.

About family. An 'Helga' and an 'Ylva'.

"That does not concern me." Thorfinn uttered as he got up and adjusted his arm sling, "I am asking you about Vinland. Father wanted to go there and I want to know if you did anything about it."

"But Thorfinn," Leif stepped closer, his arms open as his eyes threatened to tear up again, "You don't need to be here. You want your revenge but what about your mother? She's been getting worse and worse ever since you got taken from us. Ylva has been worried sick as well, you could go back and see them. I'm sure Helga will feel better-!"

"I said that doesn't concern me!"

Swiftly the blonde spun back with dagger in his good hand. His face had quickly contorted into sheer rage once again. "I'm here to take my revenge! Nothing else!"

Seeming to lose air, Leif sobbed as his voice shook. "It's been enough! We've lost you since you were six, Thorfinn, six! You have been in this hell long enough, we can go back home! Go back to Iceland!"

You could feel it. Feel the familiar ire ooze out of Thorfinn. A hatred unrivaled and unequalled in a way you have never seen nor felt in your young years.

"Enough?" His tone was akin to a growl, like a switch.

"It will never be enough! Have you not seen it, how Father died?! As long as this damn bastard is eating, breathing and shitting, it'll never be enough! You hear me?!"

He tried to take a deep breath and in the next moment, grasped your hand and marched back to the boat with you in tow. His grip was tight enough to hurt you. Yet that was the least of your concerns.

Looking back, you could see the man tear up.

"I'll stay...I'll stay right here until you change your mind!"

Never have you heard of such absurdity before.

"I won't give you up, Thorfinn!"

A man from the past - a mere, old, harmless merchant - insisting on bringing someone back home, someone like Thorfinn. To have looked and searched for him. Embracing him tight like a son and weeping at the sight of him. Alive and safe.

"Let's go back home! Please!"

Such bravery, such determination for someone like Thorfinn. That is love, is it not?

You'd certainly feel loved if someone like that was searching for you.

"Let's go back to Iceland!"

I Don't Want It But I Know No One's There...

The day is quick to be over and morning approaches yet again.

Today at noon is the meeting with the king and all his investors and allies. Askeladd insisted on being there as well but you couldn't care enough about the details of high and mighty masteries.

About spying, about rumors, about hired assassins and slaves only to get rid of them...

You would love to say that Thorfinn shares your sentiment and he does but still approves on playing a puppet while you stay rigid and firm on the stage. Not moving.

You simply had watched. Watched as bands fought over a prince, watched as he tamed them like beasts, watched along as the band was reduced to mere three people that serve a royal now. Watched as Thorfinn continued to play along and along and along...

He was as focused as ever today. Today he insisted on getting his duel and revenge.

You sat still and watched. Perhaps a part of you adjusted his arm sling yet again. Out of kindness, out of pity, out of fear, anger, exhaustion...

You just didn't want him to die.

Gods, would it be awful. Would it be foolish if he were to die now.

Though it was noon, the sky was dark. Clouds forebode a storm or blizzard and Askeladd complained about the awful timing. How it had to be so close to the meeting...that two stubborn idiots insisted on dueling him now.

You went up the hill, next to Canute and Thorkell. Both of them said nothing as you invited yourself to their company.

Thorkell, who almost crushed you. Your shorter, younger body that of an insect compared to him, as well as in his eyes.

Canute, who was too bashful to glance at you. Someone who grieved and cried while clinging on your sleeve now seemed like a different, stronger person than you.

And the second dour fool...Björn crawled up the snowy path with nothing but a sword and his wound. He needed to go first and Thorfinn seemed to grant him that wish, watching from the sidelines.

Though the duel was quickly over. So fast and one-sided that it could barely be called a match, let alone a battle. Even as Askeladd held a sliver of shine and love in his eyes as Björn died in his arms, as he confessed his wish and reciprocated it with his own...as he gave him the final but merciful blow to send him to Valhalla...none could find it in their hearts to really feel anything for the old man anymore.

"...Awfully sorry to have kept you waiting, lad." He threw the blood off his sword with a clean swing after he covered the body.

While walking over to Thorfinn almost like in a trance, your eyes never left the snow sullied in blood nor the body growing ever so cold or the sword in Askeladd's hand.

"I shall be witness to this duel and as the prince here, I shall also be the one to decide when it ends." Canute spoke in a loud tone, it was hard to believe he only used to mumble. You didn't look back but felt thankful that he went out of his way to ensure Thorfinn's safety.

Even if that meant not satisfying him and his lust for vengeance.

And here you were in front of Thorfinn, yet again tugging and adjusting his arm sling - which he had also wrapped his dagger around, refusing to have it any other way while dueling the older man - to make sure it stayed put and firm. Firm enough to not have the weapon fall out of its grip and to not have the stubborn fool injure his arm more than needed.

He watched silently, his glare the moment he laid eyes on Askeladd today not yielding. Not softening at the sight of you as they ususally do.

Wordlessly you tug and tie and press the dagger deeper into the grip. Though your work is done, and even needless to an extent, your cold hands stayed on the sling. Cold, bare hands red from the chilling winter day. Hands that have seen and caused chaos gingerly carressed the sling and bandages alongside the blade. Your eyes never left it and neither did Thorfinn's.

No one commented a thing. All waited patiently for both men to begin.

Slowly, ever so slowly and reluctantly, your hands glided down his sling and swung back to your sides. Finally, you looked back at him and stared into his hardened eyes with your softened ones.

"...Don't die. Please..." Was all you could muster after an enduring silence. Thorfinn only left you there as he went up to Askeladd.

The sword is thrown into the snow.

Daggers in both hands, one broken.

Still, as he stood there, ready and unarmed with his neck so delicate and vulnerable, Thorfinn got pummeled nicely; One fist after another as he was headbutted, kicked, uppercutted, held by his hair and biffed until his face was red, blue and black. It was hard to watch.

Thorkell and Canute chatted about bets and strength. The giant of a man teasing you even for probably being the type to bet it all on your loyal friend and buddy Thorfinn even as he is getting the daylights beaten out of him. You refused to talk to him.

You never uttered a word during the duel nor to the other two, yet Canute could easily tell how tense you were with each punch Askeladd threw at Thorfinn. You were just watching with bated breath and a racing heart.

Even though this one-sided brawl was easily, so, so easily in Askeladd's favor, the leader grew more and more frustrated with each swing.

A fool. An idiot. Stubborn and small-minded, braying like a blind animal and lashing out in the most childish way he has ever seen. A real warrior.

How he wished he'd just get into his thick skull, use a bit of his brain! Just a damn bit for once, that complete moron!

Yet as he kicked him for one last time, having the young man fall head-first into the snow, knocked out cold, he rose his sword over his head, only to quickly raise his other arm the moment he heard stomping through the snow.

Canute had called out to you as you rushed towards the man with your own blade - cutting into his hand as he stopped the weapon from piercing through his chest.

Your glare was as dark as thunder and so akin to Thorfinn's. It made him laugh and just as frustrated.

"Calm down now. I didn't even harm a hair on his head." Askeladd gestured to tip of his sword dug into the snow, right next to Thorfinn's head. Swiftly, the man grabbed your own blade, pushing you away with a shove and shaking the blood off his palm. He eyed you with a matching scowl. "Don't get worked up over an fool like him. He'd just cause you trouble."

You paid no attention to his words. Throwing your weapon aside, you were fast as a storm, kneeling by Thorfinn's side and turning him around, holding him in your arms.

"Thorfinn! Thorfinn!" As you attempted to waken him, Canute followed close behind you, yelling out that the duel was over. Askeladd did not reply but instead, took a seat on a few bricks of an abandonded bridge. With a scoff he watched the young blonde regain conciousness but even as he awoke in your arms, the simpleton just jumped to his feet despite his injuries and whipped his head around in search for his prey.

Even as Canute explained the outcome and even as your hands and arms supported him like a mother, as Thorfinn looked dumbfounded at your hurt gaze at the sight of his blue, bloodied and pummeled face...he was still looking for Askeladd.

His blue eyes watched as you tried to wipe the blood off his nose, at the mere graze of your touch had the young viking jump in pain. It must hurt so much to see him make a fool of himself time and time again. Nevertheless, he keeps on crawling back to Askeladd and it sickened him.

For the first time in a long while, Askeladd called out your name in a calm and placid manner.

"Don't waste your enegry on an moron like him. He keeps on getting these injuries because of his own stupidity...you're better off without him."

At that Thorfinn let out an offended groan - Askeladd gestured to his outburst with an unimpressed sneer. "As I said. The idiot brays, then takes out his weapons and thinks himself the hunter as he charges head on while going for my neck. He thinks he's already won...by just roaring out a little victory chant and throwing himself into battle, just like all these self-proclaimed warriors do. They've all lost sight of the nice things in battling."

"Björn was right...I hate all warriors like that. Bastards that take, rampage, pillage, kill and then rob an entire culture of all that they had. Especially those Nordics...those vikings." Taking a deep breath, he called out calmly once again. "Laddie. Let me tell you...how to really murder an abhorrent bastard."

Don't Let Me Go, I Have Nothing Left To Lose...

His eyes never left him. Nor you.

The tale was as old as time for him, funny even in a way. A past that shaped him and all his actions he has done and will ever do but simply reciting it all brought a few chuckles out of him from the memories. The treatment. His mother and her belief of an returning king. The never-ending mountains of ash. The fools of half-brothers he used to have. All the wealth from the murder. The soft 'Why?' as his father met his end.

He didn't even think he'd remember that much!

But it all did happen...he remembered the respect he earned and how he dug her grave in Wales. It is all still there, he hoped.

The kid knew how to kill him now...he wondered if he would actually suceed after hearing his advice.

"So you know now, Thorfinn if you listened to me of course. I've managed to kill my most hated enemy within two years and still here I stand about ten later. Use your wits for next time, you damn numbskull." The man had long stood up and marched over to Björn's cold body. He threw one brief glance over his shoulder to Thorfinn - who was simply fuming in his own blood.

"Shut it!" He got up as briskly as he could from your arms, "Shut up, bastard! I'll, I'll kill you! Until my final breath, I'll rip out your heart! I will definitely-!"

Another clang. The sword hit the snow, it's tip dug deep within the earth. With more fiersome intent than him feigning the final blow on Thorfinn. If you were not mistaken, you reckoned to hear the metal crack.

"Damn it all. You're really pissin' me off."

In an attempt to control his anger, Askeladd balled his shaking hand as he scowled like a wounded beast at Thorfinn. The latter was startled, you noted.

"...You talk about killing and killing and killing. Yet you haven't achieved a single thing. Look at you, lad. You're covered in blood, snot and saliva, it's disgusting. You had so many, so many chances to kill and gut me yet you never used your damn brain for any of them! Look at you!"

With a sudden shout he pointed at him. You and Canute could not help but jump in fright. "You're quick, you're strong, you're talented! I can't deny that...and still you insist on going off on your emotions and losing each little duel you so wholeheartedly persist on! Keeping on losing your cool and brainlessly charging forward. You had so many chances, Thorfinn, and you had equally as much chances to get killed for your brainless behaviour if it weren't for them!" His digit went to point at you. Your breath got caught in your throat.

"If it weren't for the only damn friend you got in this messed up world, you'd be long dead! You owe them more than I owe you! And still...they're gonna end up being the death of you, too."

With a sharp gasp, Thorfinn once again swung his dagger at him. However, he struggled to catch his breath. "Don't bring them into this! This, this is between you and me! It always has been!"

"Don't be laughable, boy!" Askeladd bellowed at him, "It always has been until they arrived! Little dog that you are, you clung onto their hip since then and today as well! Your little attachment will get you killed, fool!"

Oh, how long Askeladd had waited to say that straight to his face! Thorfinn's attachment to you will end up killing him! And what good does that bring when a corpse can't avenge his father?

You watch with a darting, wide gaze between the men. Thorfinn kept denying it, throwing his tantrum with the same threats as before - the same threats he has been spitting his way since he was six years old - only for Askeladd to point out every. Single. Thing. He has ever done for you, sacrificed for you and only you. For your survival. For your honor. Everything. He can't fool him, boy.

"It all started with your absurd, small 'trades'. Yes, I've seen it as you threw them that bunny as amends. I've noticed you bringing in the horses, fix your gear together, having each other's back on the battlefield as you barely even acknowledged our existence. You think I haven't been paying attenton aside from our duels?"

He saw it in the early dawn of spring when you hunt and Thorfinn shared his prey with you. He witnessed it in the deadly cold night of winter when you are huddled and cuddled close together. He saw it when Thorfinn's dear dagger is in your hands as if it was nothing and the lad doesn't see anything wrong with it. Damn it, he sees it in his smile! He smiles when near you, at you and is brought only by you!

Boy, you are laughable!

"And when I told you to go fetch His Highness from Thorkell's men in an exchange for a chance to kill me, you just had to turn around and save their skin. You are as predictable as I thought, Thorfinn." Askeladd couldn't help but snicker, "I've given you so many chances and you all threw them away the moment your little friend just seemed to be in danger. You can't even focus on your goal, idiot, you kept on prioritizing a life that won't help you achieve it. Maybe if they'd never joined, you would have long gotten your revenge."

Askeladd calmed down enough to grin and jest, "But no," He feigned disappointment and shook his head, "You still refuse to have a bit of your wits about you. When I threaten your friend's life, you throw yourself in front of them. When I tell you to fight Thorkell the Tall, you do so only to be the one to chop off my head. And now...you are here. And so am I. Really, you've helped me along the way, Thorfinn...you've been an useful tool."

The young viking stepped back with a choked breath and a gut-wreching hole in his stomach that seemed to take his heavy heart.

"You're like a dog chasing after food. I should be thankful to Thors."

Everything seemed grow hazy around. The cold, the figures talking away, the ground underneath him. The air seemed more piercing with every breath he so depserately struggled to fill his lungs with, fill it to live but that seemed like a task too great for him. Pain shot through his broken arm and his legs gave out as the snow softened his fall. Everything dislimned before him as if all this never happened at all.

You caught him before he could fall into the snow and suffocate. His body freezing and heavy against you. The second dagger slipped out of his hand.

[errruvande]

I turned my bestie into a viking fan (original) and then I literally forced her to watch TLK and she fell in love.

Tho when I say that TLK is my comfort show she always shouts at me hysterically, cause everybody fucking dies 🥲 and she's like HOW'S THAT COMFORTING???? idk girl I ask myself the same question ✋🏻😔

you are so real for this!!! more people need to watch this show !!! (And I am also beginning to read the books too <3)

p.s I've been trying to think of a fantasy novel about a princess who has to marry into the rival family and take back her throne with enemies to lovers and I had writers block bc I had the basic plot but I didn't know how to start but I took inspo from several medevil themed shows (tlk included) and irl historal figures like empress maude and Hürrem Sultan so here we go!!!! (this is the very first passage where we get to meet the characters 😌)

Oh I love this! Here, a Sihtric heart meme for you!

And I agree! Years ago I actually convinced another friend of mine irl to watch it. He watched Vikings and Vikings Valhalla on my recommendation, and needless to say he became a fan quickly. 10/10, will continue to push the TLK agenda!

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

Let's face it, character battles in Warhammer are fucking bullshit.

Some people should not survive what happens to them, there is only so much blood you can loose or organs that can fail before you are dead for good.

But we keep getting battles where some how, they live.

Example, Creed vs Abbadon. Creed should of died outright but worst that happens? Arm cut off before Trazen puts him in stasis.

As someone pointed out, Ragnar Blackmane vs Gazkul, Yes Gaz crushed him into pulp, but not before Ragnar lopped his head off.... Yes both survived, but bullshit was involved.

Or best BS show down comes from the Calgar comic, papa smurf rips the head off a demon engine and shoots down its neck, despite this match up being physical impossible in the game.

[mrsarnasdelicious]

New Years Resolution - DJ Sihtric

Happy New Years, ya naughties.

"You look fucking fantastic baby." Sihtric growls as you erupt from the bedroom. He's wearing scuffed up converse, his lucky shoes, black ripped jeans and a black shirt under the leather jacket that makes you wet instantly. You close the distance and pull him to you by the mjolnir pendant on the leather string that he never takes off. Sihtric smirks against your lips as he kisses you.

"You ready baby?" He murmurs against your lips. "If you are." You reply. "For you, always." Sihtric smirks. You roll your eyes. "Let's just go." You cooe.

Sihtric texts his driver and grabs your coat.

Swiflty you are brought to the party Sihtric will be playing at. He's one of five DJ's that night, alongside Sigtryggr, Ragnar, Aethelwold and Skade. But your fiance is playing the main booth.

You follow Sihtric up to his booth, feeling the party goers eyes on you as you ascend the stairs. They know you by now. Sihtric's never been quiet about how much he loves you.

Sihtric grabs his mic and flicks it on. "You ready to kick 2023 out of the fucking door!" He hollers. The crowd cheers and yells back up at him. Sihtric grins wickedly. "So, leeeet's kick it." He yells, pressing a few buttons and the music starts building to a base drop. The crowd goes nuts. You think they are a bit too easy to please, but hey, they pay Sihtric well for it, so you are not complaining.

The crowds are dancing and Sihtric bobs his head a little and keeps post-phoning the bass. "You're a jerk." You chuckle. "I know." Sihtric grins at you. "Kiss you when the base drops?" You tease. "Cheeky, I like it." His grin grows into a smirk. He slaps your ass and stuffs his hand in your back pocket. "Damn, I want you." He growls.

"Make that bass drop and maybe I'll see what I can do." You cooe. "Minx." Sihtric pulls you closer, his lips on your neck. "Baaabey." You titter. He flicks a switch and the base drops like a tonne of bricks. You feel it in your bones. "Fuck, now I am wet." You groan. "Good." Sihtric smirks. "Because I am shoving it in at midnight baby." He grins and winks at you. "Now who is a minx?" You retort. He gropes your ass firmly and kisses your neck. You moan sweetly upon his ministration.

"I am so fucking hard for you." He growls, just below your ear. "Two more hours till midnight." You cooe. "Fuck baby, I can't stand that." Sihtric swears. "I could edge you." You tease, backing up, grinding against his crotch. Sihtric groans lustily. "You are a very cruel, woman." He nips at your neck. "But you like that." You titter. "Fuck yeah I do." He agrees.

You keep grinding against him.

Sihtric manages to stay focussed, though he most certainly riciprocates. He grinds his hard cock against your ass.

He slips a hand into your trousers, rubbing you through the cloth of your panties. You moan sweetly and roll your hips into his hand. "Good woman." Sihtric growls. He nips at the lobe of your ear, twists some knobs and the crowd goes wild. He hand goes into your panties. "Fuck, you are soaked." He grunts. "Can you blame me?" You murmur.

He begins to caress you and you grit your teeth in order not to moan. It's so good, he knows just how to get you going. The way he rubs your clit it absolutely heavenly. And then he delves a thick finger into you and you gasp in pleasure. "Good girl." Sihtric growls. You whine and shudder.

He fucks you with one finger, shoving as deep inside you and he can. You moan, bearing down to get some friction on your clit. "So greedy." Sihtric chuckles, pressing his palm against your cunt. You moan lustily and grind against him. He's swiftly working you to orgasm. You just need a little more. "Al-almost there." You whine. "Oh, you wana cum?" Sihtric growls.

"Beg for it." He taunts, before amping up the base. The crowd goes wild, and you are sure no one will hear you, only Sihtric. "Beg." He says firmly. You whine loudly. "Please, please. Oh please, let me cum, sir." You mewl. "You can do better than that." Sihtric seeks out your gspot. You squeal rather loudly.

"Don't you dare cum until I allow you." He growls against your ear. It is almost your undoing.

"Please please please please please." You chant. You are so close to the edge, already. "Yes, that is right." Sihtric grins, slapping you on the ass with a firm flat hand. You squeal and grind more firmly against his hand. "Cum for me, then." Sihtric says firmly. He presses the tip on his finger against your g-spot and you come apart under his touches.

"Good girl." Sihtric praises, slapping your ass again.

"Almost midnight, too." He remarks. "No New Years Kiss for you, baby. No, you are getting my cock." He taunts, kissing along your jaw. You lean back against his shoulder and moan. He is still fucking you with his finger and it makes you needy for more. You need him inside you. But you know he will keep to his word. You knew he will keep you waiting till midnight.

"Wana cum again?" He nips at the shell of your ear. "Oh, yes, please." You whine. "Your wish is my command, my love." He chuckles, his mouth moving to the lobe of your ear and sucking it firmly. He moves his free hand into your panties as well and pinches your clit. "Oh Gods!" You moan loudly. "Exactly." Sihtric growls, shoving another digit inside you.

"I want your cock." You whine. "You'll have to wait a little longer." Sihtric taunts.

In the half hour leading up to the count down, Sihtric makes you cum five more times. You are more than just desperate by the time the crowd starts to count. Sihtric switches on a massive bass build.

10

He pulls down your panties.

9

He opens his belt and fly.

8

He fishes his cock from his boxers.

7

Sihtric lifts you onto the edge of his 'work area'.

6

The head of his cock presses against your folds.

5

You tilt your pelvis for him.

4

"Good girl." Sihtric grunts.

3

He parts your folds with his thumb.

2

Slowly he pushes his cockhead between your folds.

1

He leans his forehead against yours.

He flicks a switch and the bass drops the moment the crowd yells 'Happy New Year'. And at the same time he shoved his whole length home and you cry out his name.

[ragnars-tooth]

Medieval/fantasy au be upon ye: the gang reconvenes and discusses their next steps

Oh god, so this one requires me to get into what the hell this au is about and uhhhh I don’t… know?? Yet???

I’ve got some broad sweeps down but the details are for the most part hazy rn

(That got long fast whoopsie!!)

SO:

- The Pennykettles are the royal family, Lucy is the heir. David is not strictly related to Liz or Lucy, but he was raised in proximity to the crown and later made the equivalent to a prince in title (basically, he’s not really royalty, he can’t take the crown, and he doesn’t do anything important, but he is the court’s funny little guy and you will apologise to him rn for hurting his feelings!! He acts as a figurehead in the Pennykettles’ place for some festivals, and is generally well liked by the public despite being dumb as rocks.)

- More on David: he was raised by the monks of Avalon (pushing my Arthur & Bernard agenda on this fine evening), one of which Liz eventually married (take a wild guess).

- The royal line carries down the women, Arthur is basically arm candy. He and Liz are very queer-platonic to me. Their role is to act as ‘ambassadors’ between dragons and humankind. It’s mostly symbolic at this point, as dragons are very respected and mostly left to their own devices. Their perches are treated as holy places where offerings are left, and they don’t bother themselves with humans as long as things continue to roll smoothly.

- (To be clear, Arthur is not Lucy’s father. I may well go with canon’s egg shit because it works maddeningly well here. It is also important to me that you know Arthur is still blind. I will hold this man in my disabled arms mwah you are safe here)

- THE PENNYKETTLE DRAGONS? They’re still here baybey, but REAL ALL OF THE TIME. They’re a small species of living dragons – I haven’t worked out the exact origin story here yet, whether Liz still breathed life into them from something non-living, or if they’re just juveniles that will eventually become as big as Gawaine. We shall see, I suppose. I imagine that they act like very needy cats that attach themselves to their human and follow them about. God I wish I had a little dragon guy.

- The royal library is run by Henry Bacon (HE LIVES. FUCK YOU.) and his apprentice, Zanna Martindale. David also used to apprentice here before being adopted by the crown. It took Zanna a while to get over the boy she used to throw books at and make daisy chains for becoming effectively a prince. They are in love <3 (no Alexa yet, sorry (unless…. Hm, I will get back to you on this…) bc I see David and Zanna being Firestar ages, and Lucy being older than usual at around 16/17)

- Zanna has a vaguely middle-class upbringing (as far as the concept exists), with a doctor/dentist father and an older sister.  (Ngl. Forgot zanna had a real dentist dad and just made henry her father originally. And now to fix it I’m considering marrying them. It would be funny literally only to me. But it Would be funny. Local doctor and librarian have a weird unacknowledged little gay thing going on. Good for them <3)

- I don’t know how but Melanie Cartwright is in there somewhere and she and Lucy are dating. I am right. You will understand the kettlewright agenda by the time im through with you.  

- Lucy is in her teenage angst era but at least this time it’s just sort of silly instead of a result of horrific trauma. She’s just smothered by loving parents and thinks she could totally make it as an independent adult with no survival skills. She is wrong!

- (Lucy voice: God I hate my parents, they keep saying they love me every twelve seconds 🙄 I just want to do normal things like commit property damage and travel cross-country with nothing but a bag of cheese and scare old man Bacon. Instead all I can do is count my stacks of money and play fetch with my fire-breathing cat. This fucking blows!! They never let me do anything fun :/)

- Tam is a wannabe poet who becomes a knight. On his first day after a big promotion he promptly loses the crown’s only princess and decides that the best course of action is to fake his death and live in the forest. I can’t say I blame him.

- During Tam’s self-imposed exile he comes across is stalked by Bella (the catgirl). He finds her very annoying and is not at all her father now. He also hates cats and would never ever pet one and let it fall asleep in his lap. He is a man of principles and sticks to his finely tuned moral compass. By lying. And running away.

- Regarding Lucy’s disappearance – it was her way of getting away for a bit for fun only child shenanigans, but ultimately ends in her (crown princess, very recognisable, her face is on like. Everything.) getting kidnapped for real.

- Unbeknownst to Tam, David had also disappeared during official business, and Zanna is nowhere to be found. The crown is left in a precarious place, and it soon appears to be under real threat.

- Spoilers: Voss is about, and there is a lot he’s willing to take.

- On lighter notes: Gwilanna and the Chamberlain boys are absolutely still in this because I am so fucking predictable. Tootega come here I can treat you so much better mwah mwah. Well… maybe Gwilanna isn’t a lighter note. But she is there! This will have no consequences on anyone or anything, I’m sure! :3

PLEASE DEAR GOD ASK ME QUESTIONS IF YOU HAVE THEM. I swing violently between wanting to give every single plot detail rn and wanting to go write the actual fic so things can be revealed ✨mysteriously✨

[peanutbutter-doodles]

Just, Feel. 18+ Mdni

Characters : Paul Stanley, Velvet Von Ragnar.

Pairing: Vonstar.

Au: Vampire/Werewolf.

Summary:  Hands on cock, leading it again to their ass or pussy to be filled so much with cum, it’ll be gushing from each hole just by pushing the stomach down or squirting it out when they get too full of their lover’s seeds. Producing stains that are impossible to get out even if they were cleaned multiple times from others but this time ... .the stains are permanent.

Not their problem, just the hotel staff's problem.

Nonetheless, mouths went on each other.

__________

⚠️Warnings: Rough sex, breeding, vaginal sex, anal sex implied, cum inflation, blood, there's so much blood, violent sex, impregnation, blood drinking, bruises, moaning, aftercare, cannibalism, hotel sex, squirting, monsterfucking, gaping holes, pierced dicks, big cocks, etc, Horror, gore, ask to tag!

Note: this is a oneshot~

Comments and Reblogs, are Deeply Appreciated!

AlsoonAo3~

Violent screams of ecstasy fill the destroyed room as a bunch of clothing laid scattered and torn on the floors and chairs leaving a trail in their midst, along with walls having scratches big as godzilla. The wallpapers were torn, almost ripped to shreds as they were hanging by a thread like the tables, the ceilings stained with weird substances while the light was swinging back and forth in a frenzy as more moans and howls filled the steamy atmosphere even further as….

The bed rocked back and forth creating creaking noise in the process, blankets and pillows were either scratched up completely, laying all over the place or were untouched as long knife like nails sunk deep into the nightstand nearby, gripping the wood so viciously it cut through the wood leaving scraps all the way down as a guttural noise of ultimate pleasure was let out and heard. Making the room vibrate as it did and letting the whole world know that someone…..

Was getting there shit rocked…

On the night of the full moon.

Screaming out each time there G-spot was jackhammered into enough they let out a howl of pleasure or squirted all over there lover, sending them into a frenzy of fucking for the next hour or two without a stop, thrusting there monstrous cock deep into there cunt, deep enough they penetrated the cervix thoroughly they went inside the womb. Fucking them faster, nastier, sloppier, anything in between it was rough and hotter than hell on earth.

Splitting there cunt in two, rearranging there guts as the cock slid against there walls, going balls deep as they angled there hips striking the spot that made there lover cry out there name on there pretty lips like a chant, sweat brewed and dripped off there bodies making them gleamed and shine like godless beings. Skins almost sticking to each other from the sweat and hotness, it was a pain to get unstuck but it was so exhilarating when they did, bodies to bodies so close to one another their hands went everywhere on them.

Hands on cock, leading it again to their ass or pussy to be filled so much with cum, it’ll be gushing from each hole just by pushing the stomach down or squirting it out when they get too full of their lover’s seeds. Producing stains that are impossible to get out even if they were cleaned multiple times from others but this time ... .the stains are permanent.

Not their problem, just the hotel staff's problem.

Nonetheless, mouths went on each other. Sucking or nibbling their lips hard enough leaving marks or bruises on them making them bleed thus starting a bloody makeout sesh with another as they explored each other's mouths, tongues twirling around each other. Dancing with the tunes of the past and sometimes the future, swirling and tangling up by accident due to piercings or sharp teeth that almost pierced the tongue making one flinch and the other chuckle in response, getting a special opportunity in advance.

Long snake-like tongue going deep enough down there throat, slurping them down like a snack as a bulge appears from the outside of their skin, almost making them choke as they slurp and slurp as the lover’s eyes went in the back of there head, almost stopping there breathing but just in time for the tongue to leave the throat and go back into the mouth to sloppily taint there lovers mouth with some of there fluids that came from there throat. Moaning and mewling as they were pushed down and up with a force of a thousand arrows as they grabbed onto the breasts of their lover.

Pulling their pierced and bloody tits, twisting them with their finger tips or sometimes mouth. Their fangs penetrate their skin, sucking on them like milk. Tongue licking around or on the tit, biting it making the lover howl out loudly.

‘’Fuck, Baby! Keep going!’’ The lover cried out, ramming their cock into them like a madwoman. Falling back onto their back as her tits were sucked and played with, bruises and marks forming from the teeth and fingers, blood seeping from the tit as the lover drank and moaned out how good the blood taste and how it made them feel as the sounds of smacking flesh intensified as the lover on top bounced up and down on the cock. Taking control, grinding on it roughly as their cunt clenched on it like a lifeline. ‘’STANLEY!!!’’

‘’VELVET!!! LOUDER!!! SAY IT!!! SAY MY NAME!!!’’ Paul screamed, a long wail coming out from his throat as he slammed down her cock thoroughly hard enough as a bull, sending a shock of instant pleasure through to them both as they made the most filthiest sounds together with their movements, voices, and bodies. Their hairs all over the places, bodies covered in more blood and cum than sweat, their eyes so dilated. It made them look like they were high on drugs but instead they were high on each other with how they looked intimately into each other with how their eyes shine when they made eye contact.

Paul with his golden browns, that reminded Velvet of the sun and Velvet with her crimsons, red as the blood that dribbled and squirted from her skin and onto Paul’s face as they made punctures with nails, teeth, piercing and sometimes….

With her cock, that hurt alot when they were going to far but intensely pleasurable when they did go far enough when it’s night like these, in a wrecked hotel room with the windows even open just for fun, which was velvet’s idea to ward or let people know that her creature of the night is taken and is her’s….

Forever.

As she made permanent marks into his neck, grabbing him by the throat. Sunking her teeth into him, blood spurting between her teeth as she deeper and deeper. Letting it trickle down his bruised skin, gallons upon gallons of blood came out, getting it on him and her. Smearing it all over their bodies as they slid against each other, chests rubbing against one another creating friction.

‘’Mommy….’’ Paul shakily moaned, letting out a breath of air. Laying down on Velvet completely, moving his dripping, soaking, bloody cunt up and down on her cock, directly hitting his G-spot with a perfect hit. Moving his hips around with her cock in him, feeling the piercings pierced his raw walls. ‘’Ahhhh~!!!’’ He cried, shaking and whimpering.

Putting his hands on each side of Velvet’s head, facing her down with an intense stare in his eyes that glowed brightly full of desire and lust. Leaning down completely, faces touching, breathing their musky and honey on each other, licking his lips. 

Breathing slowly, his dead heart racing like it was alive, fingers gripping into the blankets, flipping his hair back, he looked down and spoke….

‘’I’m not leaving this cock until i know for sure, i'm pregnant with your kits in me.’’

‘’Really, Darling~?’’ Velvet grunted, her hands going on his rump. Placing them on each side of his plump cheeks, gripping his soft and bruised skin. Her teeth shining, leaning up close to him, foreheads touching, glaring into each other’s eyes with such determination it was endearing to say the least. ‘’Your not going to get off my cock, until i make you swollen with my kits?’’ She questioned, grinning.

‘’I planned on it, unless…you have a problem with it….’’ Paul quietly said, almost turning his head away before Velvet turned him back to face her.

‘’Not at all, darling. I would love for you to bear my kits~.’’

‘’Really?’’ Paul asked, eyes widening. 

‘’Sure, since we’ve been doing this for a few years now and we’ve been spending time with each other with nobody else in our way, along with….how things between us…have risen quite well…’’ She goes, rolling around. Putting Paul underneath her, her hand went up to his cheek as she caressed it gently, stroking it on the side of his cheek.

‘’I think it’s time to settle down with a lovely vampire like you after all these decades of being alone with no companion by my side or your side….’’

‘’You mean….’’

‘’ I mean it, Stanley. I fucking mean it, i would love to have you by my side and would gladly start a new beginning, a new life and…new decade with you…Mon cheri~.’’

‘’Velvet….’’ Paul goes, eyes widening. Velvet’s hand goes to wipe the bit of tears from his eyes as she kisses it passionately, putting a strand of his dashing curls behind his ears, planting another kiss on him. His lips that were swollen and cut from the makeout sesh beforehand along with the ferocious biting that was inflicted on them both. ‘’I…i…’’

‘’Hmm?’’ Velvet hummed, wrapping her arms around Paul.

‘’I don’t know what to say….’’ Paul said, trailing off a little.

‘’Then don’t say anything, just feel.’’

‘’Feel?’’

‘’Yes, darling….’’

‘’Feel.’’

And feel they did.

Feeling each other’s soul’s intertwined and mingled with one another as there bodies, hands, mouths, everything went all over each other, just feeling each other intimately, intensely and most of all being personal with themselves as they fucked and made loved under the full moon in a hotel on a 13th of a friday night. 

Making everyone know from the inside and out, despite the sounds and movements of the lovers, something magical is happening right now and is starting off with a bang…

An explosive bang in fact that Paul spreads his legs so much that Velvet ram into him, thrusting and pounding his pussy while she listened to him speak and cry out with words that almost made her tear up knowing that he knows that they'll be together forever and ever thus giving him the path of not being alone anymore.

Giving him the chance, to have the things he wants and a family he dearly wanted with the person who he dearly loved and gotten to know personally without being afraid by how monstrous they were frightening, demonic, an outcast….

Like he was.

Both of them misunderstand, mistreated by humans or even there own kind before meeting each other and….

Creating a string binding them together, internally and eternally when they first laid eyes on each other on a rainy night that led them to a path they didn’t expect but a path that….

Granted them the future they truly wanted.

The future, as Velvet pulled out as she looked into Paul’s eyes, grabbing his leg, putting it onto her shoulder as she laid on her side by him, prodding his entrance, feeling his bush as she slide up between the walls of his labia, sending a rush of arousal to both of their cores.

Faces red as a cherry, eyes heavy with so much emotion it was unbearable as there breaths get much hotter as there hearts race as one of Paul’s hand goes down to his cunt, sliding it down between his walls, feeling the cock, the piercings and the veins protruding out from within as he rubs his fingers into the skin, picking at it gently and sensually before….

Spreading his folds, making it a big opening as he could with one hand…

Faintly feeling Velvet’s cock inside of him already before it has entered…

Looking at his lover with those doe-like eyes of his…

His mouth opens…

‘’Would you please do the honor of giving me your seed…the seed of the most gorgeous…woman of the world, in my life right now…Mon cher~? Paul asked, sweetly. 

Before feeling the tip slid into him, releasing a faint moan.

‘’I would be honored, Darling.’’

‘’Always?’’

‘’Always, besides…are you ready?’’

He nods, she speaks.

‘’Words, baby.’’

‘’Yes, i’m ready…now…’’

‘’Now, what?’’ Velvet grinned, sliding more into him.

‘’Fuck my brains out.’’

‘’Oohhh, i’ll do more than that.’’

‘’And what would that be?’’

Wicked glint glimmered those eyes of her’s as she settled inside of Paul, stroking him gently, nuzzling him and licking him with her tongue….

Slammed into the womb, so hard he saw a quick flash of light as he shivered against her, his mouth widening like O as she slammed and bashed his womb….

Making him totally speechless, while she spoke….

‘’I’ll rock your fucking world, until….’’

Another slam.

‘’I feel….’’

Another slam.

‘’Our kits…’’

Another slam, her hips stuttered.

‘’Being implanted…’’

Another slam, he wailed.

‘’In..’’

She leaned into his face, slamming really hard.

He clenches, she chuckles.

‘’You.’’

Hours came and went in an instant after that, as Paul laid bare naked on the bed covered with cum, blood and sweat as his wounds healed themselves and the cum from his gaping holes were seeping out between his legs, creating a puddle. Staining the bed more, as he breathed slowly from the intensity of the fucking and the full moon that had increased everything in them that made this very night a memorable one.

His cunt was beating harshly, his asshole clenched on nothing but the cum, his eyes were cloudy as a fog, his hand went up and rubbed his stomach. Clearly feeling the cum and the seeds swirling inside of him, fighting each other to get to the egg.

Even in internal, Velvet wants to be first.

‘’So…full..’’ He murmured, laying his head down on the tattered pillow.

‘’And delightful~.’’ Velvet cooed, mysteriously appearing beside him with a box of medicine and bandages along with some spare blankets, pillows and plate full of hearts, lungs and brain that made Paul’s eyes widened. Sitting beside him, she propped him with the pillows she had as she sat the box down beside him, opening it up with her claws.

‘’Exquisite, too~’’ She chirped, picking up scissors, cream and bandages. Seeing the look in Paul’s face.

‘’I know you can heal on your own, but with these you can heal faster.’’

‘’It’s not that.’’

‘’Then, what is it?’’

‘’The hearts.’’ Paul said, before using a whiff of his hand to bring the plate of hearts to himself, flying slowly to him, Velvet watching in awe. She’s used to seeing it by now, but no matter how many times she seen him use his powers, she was always amazed by how elegant and swiftly he did it. She smiled when the plate went in his hands as the heart faintly beat on the plate, blood trickling and dripping from the plate, landing on his legs. 

He sniffed, moaning.

‘’It’s fresh.’’

He sniffed again, licking his lips. Grazing against his fangs, as they appeared bloody red, stained with Velvet’s blood, bringing heat to Velvet’s cock.

‘’Taken from someone recently, a few minutes ago.’’

Sniff, sniff.

‘’Pulled out with a monstrous force of a grip.’’ 

Sniff, sniff, sniff.

‘’To feed their beloved…me~.’’ He grinned, before taking a full whiff of it.

‘’You ate them didn’t you?’’ Paul questioned, watching Velvet wrap the bandages around his legs, before looking up at him with a madly smile. ‘’Were they good?’’

‘’They were delicious but not as delicious as the heart, the liver or the brain but the screams were enlightening~.’’

‘’I bet they were.’’ Paul said, grinning widely before turning away blushing. ‘’I-i-i bet….’’

‘’They were but not as tasteful and gorgeous like you paulie~.’’ She hummed, making him blush as she chuckled. Cleaning his wounds more and more, wrapping his arms and rubbing some medicines into his skin, she sees them starting to heal faster as well Paul bringing more plates by his and her side.

Lining them up, along with two empty wine bottles.

‘’And you too, my lady~.’’ Paul said, holding up a wine bottle to Velvet as she grabbed it.

‘’Cheers to that~’’

‘’No…Cheers....’’ Paul spoke, grabbing the brain thus holding it above the two wine glasses, smashing and crushing it with his hands, the juice spilled and filled the wine glasses all the way to the top, almost overflowing it. Creating a rotten smell that would disgust humans, brought a erotic smell to the couple, stomachs growling and eyes dilated.

Kissing each other quickly, before clinking their glasses together.

‘’To the new year.’’

They declared, drinking the juice.

‘’To the world…’’

She grabbed the heart, he leaned in.

‘’To Us.’’

Sinking both of their fangs into the heart, thus letting it go into their mouths as it took….

It's last and final beat….

As the clock strikes….

Midnight. 

Been having a hard time trying to figure out what to write lately due to some writer's block and the heatwave, but luckily I managed to whip something quickly on this lovely Friday(I was busy yesterday couldn't post it XD), so I hope you like this bloody story and the mess of it all!

it may be tad violent, but hopefully it's not too violent....so...

Bon appetite~!

Tagging a few for this one - @angelbambisworld @spacedoutman

@sagii24 @insanityisdivine

@genesstankycodpiece

@sluttery-withoutshame

@vinniesasslicker1

@ravenh37

@whateverhappenedididnotdoit

and to anyone else who may stumbled upon this, I wish you luck!

Love, Butters!

( ˘ ³˘)♥

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

vikings modern!au except its the lothbrok divorce drama in the second round. this time everything is highly televised and constantly failing politican and business owner ragnar lothbrok gets a sextape leaked (its him and his rival ecbert) (both of them are running for the same post)

this causes his children to spiral, which means athelstan is taking care of them, but its kind of a stressful job bc hes also so preoccupied vacuuming up ragnars cocaine before hvitserk can accidentally eat it (this has hapepned before). aslaug is on a lesbian vampire retreat somewhere in the scottish highlands btw with her three new gfs because she naturally returned to the polycule lifestyle immediately post divorce.

lagertha is currently busy getting bjorn into a uni he doesnt have the grades for by wiring herself hte money for a library building from ragnar's account (she naturally still has all his passwords and theyre all gydas birthday) (gydas still dead btw she had cancer with was super tragic but also ragnar definitely brings it up in all of his campaigns) (rip)

athelstan's also sweating balls taking care of ivar bc ivar is literally runnign a mlm in his school and also selling webinars on telegram or somtehing. ubbe has three breakdowns per hour over masculinity and his trauma but also hes bringing home margrethe, which means that athelstan constatnly just rhows protection his way (hes not gay freidns with ragnar for nothing)

the only person enjoying this is sigurd, who is SO sick of being called a nepo baby and conveniently forgets that his mother is a retired super model and rockstar.

@levithestripper this is what my blog is going to become now

[outercrasis]

*slams hands on desk *I need a whole show or series of shorts of Paz being a good Buir but Disney won't do it because they're COWARDS

YES AGREED!! Like how dare they unlock this new part of his character only to then rip it away from us?? I need to know/see all of the following:

How did Paz become a father? Is Ragnar his by blood or is he a Foundling?

Paz training Ragnar in the ways of the Mandalore

Paz taking Ragnar out on a mission or something and teaching his son valuable lessons

Paz having to deal with Ragnar getting a crush and all the drama that would ensue

Is Paz married? Does he have anyone special in his life? How does he navigate all of this with his son and how does Ragnar feel about it all?

And of course, Paz spilling all the secrets about Uncle Din to him so that they can more effectively gang up and poke fun at him!!!!

WE WERE ROBBED OF THIS!!!!