#tlk modern au

[kingslionheart]

Mnemosyne's Elysium — Chapter One

Alfred’s first peaceful night in ages is shattered by a call from the last person he wants to hear from—his ex, Uhtred. Annoyance is the least of his problems, as a haunting past reemerges to torment him all over again. He knows doom will be unavoidable, whether he likes it or not.

Alfred x Uhtred Modern AU

Word count in Chapter One: 8,045

[tovalhallaandback]

Vores Lille Dukke

Summary: A night at the club on All Hallows Eve turns into frighteningly intimate evening when you run into York’s undead King and Queen who offer an invitation that you’d be stupid to turn down. 

Pairing: Vamp!Sigtyggr x Vamp!Stiorra x Human!AFAB!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), threesome, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex (giving male/female, receiving male/female), lowkey dom/sub vibes (dom Sigtryggr, switch Stiorra, Stiorra is also a bratty sub lol, sub reader), minor rough sex, minor blood kink, minor praise kink, mentions of blood, legal alcohol drinking (but reader still able to consent), possibly more that I'm missing ?

Wordcount: 10.3 (Yeah...i went a little nuts..)

AN: So uh, happy belated halloween?! I have more to say in the AO3 ANs lawl.

Cross-posted on to AO3 since it's so long. Also if you want to skip to the smut, then skip to the bolded part.

There’s a luminescent glow in your favorite club tonight, black lights illuminating only whites and neons while casting everything else into eerie shadows. The bass from the speakers beats so loudly, you feel it in your bones, like a second heartbeat as you lean against the bar nursing a cocktail, watching your friends. You can’t help but laugh as one slaps another party goer across the face while the other seems like they have been starved from human touch for centuries with the way they try to devour their companion. At least, they both seem to be having fun, though you wish they had kept their promise of not abandoning you tonight when they forced you out of your apartment. 

The costumes tonight lack creativity - white bunny costumes as an excuse to where lingerie in public, skeleton body suits like a second skin, angels with far too salacious grins…Though creativity tends to get stifled when there’s only so many white and neon costumes to choose from for a halloween blacklight party. And besides, it’s not like your ingenuity is any better, spotting several other possessed dolls within the throngs of people on the dance floor, even if you had no clue that you’d be coming out tonight until four hours earlier when your friends arrived clad in costume, giddy with excitement as they announced a change in plans from your annual horror movie marathon. And for a last minute costume, you look damn fucking good.  

Sure you would have rather kept to your converse instead of the four-inch strappy stilettos one of your friends insisted you wear knowing far too well that  high heels, cobblestone, and alcohol are a lethal mix, but you’re still quite proud of the rest of your thrown-together costume. It’s a simple assemble - just a white pleated skirt with your favorite white tank top; both of which emphasize your favorite physical attributes in just the right way. Then of course, there’s the black leather jacket and white lace-trimmed thigh highs that add a little bit of edge to your look. But the cherry on top? Your make-up, so detailed and precise that it looks like a professional special-effects make-up artist completed it. So while tonight might not be your usual scene, at least you feel damn fucking confident in the way that you look. 

“What’s your poison?” You just barely hear a voice that can only be described as sounding as sweet and harmonious as Tchaikovsky’s “Waltz of the Snowflakes” say over the blaring music, though still loud enough that your heels pop off the ground for a moment, still unable to shake the feeling of being watched that’s haunted you the last couple of weeks.  At first, you ignore it despite the voice’s alluring nature, like a siren in a storm, beckoning you to find its source. Plus, you’re certain they must be talking to someone else. But then it comes a second time, even louder and clearer, like the person has moved closer to you, “It looks really fucking good.” 

Your eyes flick down to the deep ruby red cocktail in your hands. The stranger’s right; it is fucking delicious, tasting mostly of sweet cherries and pomegranate. It’s one of those drinks that you could easily down five of in a row, completely forgetting there’s alcohol laced between the sweetness.

“I think it was called Dracula’s blood? Or something cheesy like-“ The words get stuck in your throat as you meet the deep dark eyes of the stranger, not quite able to discern their color under the blacklight. The petite lithe female looks like a walking goddess with her pin-straight dark chocolate brown hair falling almost to her waist and skin-tight little black dress that falls just to her mid-thigh. You instinctively swallow, licking your lips as she stares back at you, a sweet but tantalizing smile hanging off her lips.

“Like that,” you say finally, though it comes out almost like a whisper. But, it’s a miracle you were able to even finish you sentence with the way this young women has captured your attention. 

“Would you like another?” she asks as she waves down the bartender. 

All you can do is nod, still awestruck by how perfect her cream colored skin looks under the purple-hued lighting and how the dress she wears draws your gaze to the delicate slope of her breasts, then the curve of her waist. But on the bright side, she seems to hardly notice your blatant ogling (or she’s just used to it). 

Either way, you chastise yourself for such behavior, forcing your mouth that you didn’t even realize fell open closed. And somehow, you manage to remove yourself off the bar, the sleeves of your jacket making a squelching noise as they peel off the tacky ledge covered in God knows what.

As you reach into your pocket for your card, the mysterious female shakes her head, “It’s on me.”  With a gracious grin, you accept the drink from her then bring it your lips, allowing the sweet nectar to flow over your lips one more.

“Fuck that is good,” the young woman says. 

She adds something else, but you hardly register it, now enamored by the way the crimson drink drips off one of her canines (wait have those always been so sharp and pronounced?!) and onto her plush lower lip like she’d just sunk her her teeth into someone’s flesh. Then, you find yourself wishing for chance to taste the beverage on her tongue… And that’s when her costume finally makes sense - the little black dress with sheer black tights, the velvet choker around her neck, the smears of blood in odd places, the overly emphasized canines…she’s a vampire. 

“Great costume,” you splutter out then immediately close your eyes. Fuck?! Great costume?! If she weren’t still standing there, you’d probably be hitting yourself over the head for such a stupid fucking line. 

She smiles at your sweetly, like you’re a cub who thinks they can keep up with the lions. “Thanks,” her eyes do a once over your costume. “Big Child’s Play fan?” 

Your hand seesaws, “Yes and no. Mostly just the ones from the late 90s that are more comedy than horror. Let me guess - True Blood? The Vampire Diaries?” 

“Something like that.” 

Your fingers tap against your thigh as your eyes fall over the crowd again, rattling your brain for something more clever to say to the vixen then talk about your fucking costumes. You spot one friend, now practically fucking their companion on the dance floor as other people grind, jump, and fist-pump to the beat. You’re still scanning the crowd for the other when your eyes meet a different stranger’s gaze. The taller man leans across the far wall, a drink at his lips as he stares back at you and the vixen to your left. You’re certain that someone as devilishly handsome as him has to have his eyes on his clear counterpart, but then her glass clinks against yours as she whispers, “I think someone likes you.” 

But before you can counter her, she’s gone, unable to even locate where she disappeared too. Besides, it only takes two seconds to realize that she’s right as the other stranger’s eyes remain glued to you instead of following wherever the chestnut-haired stranger disappeared too. Heat rushes to your cheeks , and suddenly you’ve never been more thankful to be in a club with backlights. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you finger waggle at the stranger, swearing you see the flash of a smirk as he takes another sip of whatever he’s drinking. 

Maybe if you were three or four drinks deep, you might have enough confidence to waltz over to the new stranger. But you hardly feel the familiar warmth or euphoria pulsing through your veins, still only on your second drink with the first having been nursed for almost an hour. Besides, there’s no fucking chance you’d have a chance with him. Right? 

For God’s sake he looks like fucking Mr. James Dean with the jeans, glowing white t-shirt, and mohawk…? (Really you’re just certain the sides of his head are shaven.)  But either way, he looks like the type of guy who need only wink and panties fall to the floor for him. (And that’s just in shitty lighting from thirty-feet across the room. Up close? He probably looks like a Greek fucking god.) 

Your other friend appears, swiftly dragging you by the hand as they weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms unintentionally saving you from embarrassing yourself a second time this evening. Their iron grip around your wrist disappears once in the sanctity in the bathroom, then your friends turns to face you. “You cool finding your own way home tonight?” 

Your friend glows pink under the neon sign mounted above the sinks reading, ‘Please Don’t Do Coke in the Bathroom’. There’s an odd coziness to the brick-walled bathroom with four onyx stalls and and a double vanity sink, like the owners of the club knew most people retreat to the bathroom for a moment to themselves as just the thrum of the bass beats through the walls now. It’s nice being able to actually hear your own thoughts and not need to shout to be heard. 

“Yeah. After you both promptly abandoned me the minute we got drinks, I figured that would be the case.” 

Your friend wraps you in too tight a hug, then places a gentle kiss on your temple. “We don’t deserve you.” 

“No, you really fucking don’t,” you say with a giggle as the edge of the countertop bites into your hipbones. It’s not the first time they both have pulled this move on you, nor will it be the last. But, you’ve never minded it, just insisted all three of you ensure your location-shares stay on and check-in that you’ve all made it home by lunch the next day. 

You listen intently as your friend rattles off to you all the details they have learned about their prospective companion for the evening, clearly elated by how the night has shaped out. Eventually, you get your chance to tell her about the two strangers who caught your eye, only to quickly deny any plans of leaving with them when your friend wiggles her eyebrows at you. There’s no way in hell you have a chance with either of them. Then with one more giddy hug, they leave you in the bathroom alone. 

The silence is comforting, appreciating how you can finally think straight as you try to decide whether to stay a bit longer or to leave. Plus, the bottle of pedialyte you guzzled in anticipation of the evening has finally made its way through your system. 

You jump in your heels when you reemerge from one of the stalls, having hardly heard the female stranger from earlier enter the bathroom. She sits cross-legged on the grey concrete counter top, the deep cherry red of the soles of her heels flashing at you as she uncrosses her legs, her smile widening, like she’d been waiting on you. She pops off the counter as graceful as a feline, her hips swaying as she glides effortlessly towards you like she’s barefoot instead of wearing at least four-inch black patent-leather Louboutin stilettos. 

“I got worried you left,” her musical voice says, sending a tingle down your spine. She smells like sweet vanilla, roses, and like she’d make all your dreams come true if you asked.

“Just needed to cool off,” you manage to mutter despite her proximity. If you just leaned forward half an inch, you’d finally find out what your chosen drink of the evening tastes like on her lips. 

“Do you mind if touch you? Fix a few things out place?” 

You shake your head. Of course you wouldn’t fucking mind if she touched you; she could do anything she wants to you. The graze of her knuckles against your own when she handed you your drink earlier, then again when you clinked glasses together, had sent a spark of electricity coursing through your veins, leaving you with wanting more.

Goosebumps erupt across your collarbone when her wine-red nails scrape across the tops your breasts as her fingers curl into the hem of your tank top. She shimmies it down a little lower, so the material highlights your cleavage a little better. Your chest rises and falls slowly when her hands move to your hair, then your face, making small adjustments here and there, until she finally grips you at your shoulders gleaming at you like you’re her masterpiece. “That’s better. Now, I do hope you at least say ‘hi’ to your admirer before you leave. I’m sure it would make his night.” 

You nod without quite realizing it, hypnotized by her scent…her charm…the way her breasts seem to strain against the bodice of her dress every time she inhales…. Up closer now, you swear she seems familiar, like this is not the first time that you’ve seen her. But, she seems young enough that you presume it’s from your job or university classes. 

“You two know each other?” you ask, cursing under your breath after the fact for the way your voice squeaked out the words. Fucking hell, you need to pull yourself together. 

“Something like that,” she says for the second time this evening, still seemingly oblivious to the way your mind drifts off wondering what it would be like to end up in between the sheets with her. 

You let the vixen guide you out of the bathroom, arm looped with hers like you’ve been besties your entire life. Thankfully, she deposits you back at the bar before sauntering away into the crowd again where she disappears within the sea of people as you berate yourself for forgetting to even ask her name. 

A bartender finally wonders back over towards you, but not take your order, instead just handing your drink of the night right to you. Just beyond the bartender at the other end of the bar, the vixen (wait when did she get over there?) blows you a kiss. This time when she rejoins the dance floor, you follow her with your eyes. She stops when she reaches the middle, leaning forward as she whispers into a tall burly blonde nearly twice her size, dressed like Fred from Scooby Doo. 

And then…fuck that’s fast. Then again, she is drop dead gorgeous and you too would probably follow her like a lost puppy if she asked you too. A pang of jealousy rips through you suddenly wishing you could be the man who gets to worship her this evening. But it’s only a momentary feeling, for seconds later the vixen’s cupping her hand around the male stranger’s ear from earlier. Then with a wink so clearly meant for you, she drags the other male towards the exit. Shit, and here you thought you wouldn’t actually have to follow through with the promise you made in the bathroom earlier, could just slip out undetected in a few minutes. 

Your eyes flash up to the ceiling then to the DJ then the bathrooms, desperately searching for anything that could hold your gaze instead of the handsome stranger’s eyes. It’s not that you don’t want him, because oh my fucking God, you would trade a kidney to even spend one night with him. It’s just that you’re not known for pick-up lines…And what if he’s just been staring at you because something is out of place with your costume? 

But a voice so tantalizing with its velvety smoothness and hint of an accent that it forces you to find its source trails over your ear, saving you from having to make any such moves. “You know it’s dangerous for a young woman like yourself to be out unaccompanied.” 

You don’t realize that your mouth has fallen open again till the owner of the voice reaches out and presses a finger beneath your chin till your lips meet. Of course the voice belongs to the handsome stranger from earlier in the evening; it matches him perfectly. 

Fuck, he is even sexier close-up…and also supposed to be a vampire? For a minute there when he smirked at you, he seemed to have the same over-accentuated canines like the young woman from earlier. Plus, there’s also those dark splotches at the hem and collar of his shirt… Regardless, the alcohol has thankfully finally begun to hit, just enough now that you feel your earlier trepidations with flirting disappear but still remain of sound mind and judgement.

So instead of dwelling on what exactly his costume is tonight, you say “Technically I did not arrive alone nor am I currently alone,” a giggle escapes your lips as he peers around you then looks behind his shoulder like he’s searching for a companion. “You’re here.”

His eyes are lighter than the vixen’s, but you cannot quite determine whether they are blue or green yet, nor can you figure out the color of the remaining hair on his head, braided down the center like you’ve seen in those medieval viking television shows. But, his jawline is so sharp it could cut steel and based on upon the way muscle ropes around his forearms and biceps, you’re certain there is a chiseled six-pack you’d love to run your tongue over hiding under that t-shirt. 

“Ah, but I’m a stranger. Could easily be a serial killer out to lure young women just like yourself under the guise of a good time.” 

A flash from one of the strobe lights flickers off of the array of rings riddled over his left hand as he brings his drink of choice to his lips. The golden ring implanted with a larger burgundy stone on his left finger intrigues you the most, reminding you of a class ring or perhaps a family heirloom with how worn it appears, like it’s been in his family for a very very long time. He looks oddly familiar to you too, but maybe he also attends your university. 

“Who says that I’m not the serial killer?” He chuckles at your lame deflection and you think you might just die then and there. “Besides, we won’t be strangers anymore if we exchange names.” 

The purple-hued light highlights his teeth when he grins in a frighteningly sexy kind of way sending a shudder down your spine, “Sigtryggr, and yours?” 

Sigtryggr…interesting. You’re pretty sure it’s Scandinavian, yet you get the feeling that it’s no longer a common name even for that region of the world. But then again, maybe it’s a family name passed down for generations. 

You tell him your name, then add “So, Sigtryggr, are you enjoying your evening?” 

“It seems like it’s on the uptake now.” Damn, he’s smooth. And before you can even think to respond, a scent that reminds you of drinking spiced apple cider in an evergreen forest during autumn washes over you all while his warm breath starts to tickle your ear, “You could solidify that outcome if you went home with me tonight.” 

Is it the most ingenious line to ever exist? Nope. But does it work? Yep. Yep, it fucking does. Because who would say no to an invitation like that from a man as handsome and sexy as him? 

Your thighs squeeze together as a rush of heat washes over you, desire brewing deep in your core at his prospect. Never in your life did you think we’re that easy to persuade, especially by someone you had only just barely talked too, and yet here you were letting this stranger lead you out of the club into the brick-walled lined back alley. 

A crisp autumn breeze sends an abandoned beer can rolling down the alley while leaves of browns, reds, and oranges skate across the pavement and a chill runs down your spine as you instinctively wrap your jacket further around you. Then there’s Sigtryggr with not even a singular patch of goosebumps in sight.

“You’re not cold?” 

“Where I’m from, this is warm. Here,” his hands feel like they’ve been resting in front of a fire as they rub up and down your biceps and oh - his eyes are a brilliant piercing blue, like a frozen lake… so easy to drown in…. “My place is only a couple of blocks but would you prefer to go back inside and wait for a taxi instead of walking?” 

“Don’t you mean an uber?” 

“Same thing. Question still stands.” Then that grin that makes your knees go weak beneath you appears again when you shake your head no, “Good, because I don’t think I can wait any longer.” 

His hands thread through your hair as he tilts your head back sending waves of desire crashing throughout your body. Your lips meet and you immediately taste iron. Fuck had you been so desperate that you had you bitten him by accident? Or maybe did he bite you? Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind. And before you can dwell on the thought, his tongue swipes across your lower lip eliciting a gasp that grants him access to your mouth. 

Your muscles begin to relax as you give into the kiss, letting your hands roam up over his broad shoulders to his head, the stubble from where he’s shaved the sides of his head prickling your fingers. The heat building at the apex of thighs begins to throb as the intensity and desperation between the two of you begins to climax. Fuck, you want him so badly that you’d drop your panties right now and let him fuck you against the brick wall, onlookers be damned. So what if you end up in jail or in the paper tomorrow? He’s fucking hot and so worth it. 

  You find yourself keening forward onto your toes, eyes still shut, when Sigtryggr’s lips suddenly disappear from yours, desperate for another taste of the bourbon laced with iron on his tongue. “Finished already, my love?” he asks. 

No, of course you’re not fucking finished with him. You two have only just gotten started, the heat pooling in your belly begging to be relieved by either his cock or one of those long ring-clad fingers of his. 

Your eyes pop back open when your back hits the cool bricks, breaking you of your daze like having a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Sigtryggr’s hand rests gently on your shoulder, holding you firmly in place as you follow his gaze, finding the chestnut-haired angelic vixen from earlier striding towards you as she licks her fingers.

And that’s when you clock the glittering gold ring with a deep burgundy stone shaped like a flower, looking oddly… familiar. Then like a flash of a lightbulb turning on, it comes to you; it matches the gold one that you had written off as just family heirloom of Sigtryggr’s …like a coordinated set…both rings looking straight out of the early medieval section at the museum and worn on their left ring fingers… Then another headlight from a car passing by illuminates the two strangers; alright, they definitely are dressed like vampires…a matching costume…because they’re married. They are most definitely married. 

Fuck, you didn’t know that they were married, let alone married to each other. But, she practically pushed you into Sigtryggr’s lap, hadn’t she? Or maybe she was talking about a different stranger? And that wink had nothing to do with the promise she had asked you to make in the bathroom? 

Either way, you open your mouth to apologize, but the vixen beats you to it, her melodic voice gaining a vicious edge to it as she says, “Tasted too much like coke and fuck boy for my liking. But, I think she’ll taste much sweeter on my tongue.” 

��Too bad I’ve already claimed her for the evening.” 

“I saw her first. And you don’t mind sharing, do you?” Sigtryggr’s palms slide up and down your waist now, but it does nothing to help the fear rising inside of you as they both stare you down like two ravenous predators. Oh.. so she meant that question for you. 

You gulp, eyes shifting between the two of them as you sputter, “I-Are you two divorced?” Because, they have to be…right? It feels like the only explanation for what’s happening.. and shit, the vixen most definitely could kill you in a heartbeat.

“Nah that’s on my agenda for next century.” 

Sigtyggr’s head whips towards his wife faster than an elastic snapping back into place, “What?” 

“I’m kidding, sheesh,” the vixen says with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I file for divorce once when women finally earned the right when we were already due to update our marriage license and he’s still so fucking sensitive about it, as if we have not been together for the last millennia.”  Damn, they have a backstory for their costumes and everything. They must really fucking love halloween…or roleplaying…or both. Alright, so maybe being swingers isn’t totally out of the realm of possibility here…  

“My wife, the drama queen.” 

“And you fucking love it.” 

“I do.” Then suddenly, Sigtryggr begins conversing with his wife in a dialect you don’t recognize, some Scandinavian language probably. 

And that’s when you put together who they are or rather what they are… the eerily ancient rings, the pure perfection of their appearances, their enticing scents, the old yet modern ways in which they speak, the iron on your tongue…. 

Your thumb brushes over your lower lip, coming away clean. The only blood you can see on Sigtryggr is on his - yeah no, that’s definitely real blood on his clothes. And the vixen’s lips? Definitely not still stained from the cocktail… Plus those hyper-realistic over exaggerated canines are not some weird cosmetic surgery either…These aren’t some silly costumes.. Nor are they history fanatics or family heirloom hoarders…  They are history. They are…. vampires. 

But not just any vampires either. You’ve heard about a million different versions of the legend of the undead king and queen of York, more frequently as of late due to the season. Some hailed the hauntingly beautiful young woman in front of you as the secret queen of York, Sihtric Caech’s true love and mistress whom all his children were truly sired through, his marriage to Eadgyth only political. Others believed she was King Athelstan’s sister but changed her name along with the king of Northumbria as to not raise suspicion when they were believed to be dead. But your absolute favorite version of the myth told the story of a king so distraught, driven mad even, by the death of his first wife that he sold his soul to Hel in exchange for an eternal life with her. 

The beat of your heart begins to thrum in your ears, something deep inside of your urging to take the opportunity to run. But instead, your feet stay firmly in place, too mesmerized by the way the mated pair in front of you toys the line of arguing and flirting, expressions shifting between teasing smiles and exasperated eye rolls as the two lover’s quarrel. A flash of light from the headlights of a car reflect off the undead queen’s pearl white teeth momentarily when she smiles making your breathing halt, looking like some demonic mix of angel and monster. 

Monster. Right. Vampire. Right. 

Their love quarrel continues with you now certain it’s over who gets to sink their teeth into your neck then suck you dry till you’re just a cold limp corpse on the ground. Your chest begins to rise and fall thrice as fast as its previous pace. Vampires. They’re vampires, idiot. And what do vampires eat? Dumb little humans who fall for their charm…. You need to leave. Now. Before you become their next meal. 

A puff of dust erupts from the brick wall as a loud cracking sound that can only come from cement (or maybe bones?) splitting  echoes across the alleyway at the same time Sigtryggr emits a low primal growl from deep within his chest as he pins his wife to the structure. Your heels pop off the ground momentarily, but more from the suddenness of the gesture; honestly the motion should have terrified both of you and the queen with its intensity. But while the vixen just giggles playfully at her husband, you feel the deep ache from earlier makes itself at home between your thighs once again. Worst of all, you’re stuck ogling at them once more as she takes his bottom lip between her teeth, urging his lips to meet hers….

Right. Fuck. Vampires. Fuck. Want to eat you…even if they are hot and so lost in their lust for one another that you feel that pang of jealousy a second time that evening. So lost… they don’t even know you’re there anymore. So lost… they won’t even notice if you leave! Which you should definitely do…Now! 

Your feet finally begin to move beneath you as you attempt to tiptoe away from them, slowly turning towards your exit. But just as you think you’re free, your ankle begins to roll.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! They will definitely hear you eating shit on the pavement. Once again - fuck, your best friends and their insistence on stilettos with cobble stone. But before the edge of your foot even fully makes contact with the pavement, a firm grip lands on your shoulder, steadying you. Of course they fucking noticed before it even happened, even heard it happening, enhanced abilities and reflexes be fucking damned.

You still turn your head back even though you know exactly whose hand has just saved you from embarrassment. “Careful there. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt before we’re done with you, ” the vixen says with a wink. 

“Are y-you going to kill me?” you manage to stutter out. 

“Oh no, youre too pretty for that. We took care of that earlier anyways. We just want to have fun with you.” 

Fun?! What could they mean by fun other than killing you? What the fuck do vampires do to have fun? “Like go to an arcade or something?” 

“Were you planning on going to an arcade with my husband?” Shit, you said that last part out loud didn’t you? And no, you were planning to fu- Oh. OH. 

“So what will it be a yes or a no? My dear husband said I’m not allowed to make the decision for you, but you better —” 

“Stiorra,” the undead king chides. So, that’s the vixen’s name…Seems fitting for her as well. 

“So, if my answer is yes, how does this work? Are we taking turns or something? I mean he’s your husband so obviously you get first cho-” 

“Oh, don’t flatter my husband. He’s not the one being shared. It’s you.” Oh, fuck. You definitely did not see that in the cards for tonight.. And then Stiorra answers the question you didn’t even realize you still had, “Together.” 

Together…like a…like a threesome. Oh….Oh. “Yeah, I think that uh..I think that’s fine.” You say trying to hide the giddiness building inside of you. Isn’t the saying that everything can be solved with a threesome? 

Stiorra turns to her husband, a look that can only be categorized as ‘I-told-you-so’ clear across her features as he remarks, “Well, lille elskede, my wife gets her way once again.”

“No, that doesn’t fit her at all. She’s our…our lille dukke.” 

Not even fifteen minutes later, you’re tucked against Stiorra’s lithe frame, already feeling reluctant at having to eventually detach yourself from the warmth she provided you on the walk from the club to their apartment. Their flat is unsurprisingly the penthouse suite; what else would you do with a millennia worth of savings?

“This is your place?” Fuck, what another dumb fucking question. Did Sigtryggr not just use a key to open the door? 

“Quaint isn’t it? Wanted something more discreet and cozy as we’re here so infrequently and mostly for business.” Sure, the place could be considered quaint if you were used to mansions and castles - oh, right, you may not have confirmed it officially, but you’re still certain that they have to be the undead king and queen. 

You humbly accept Stiorra’s offer of water as your eyes scale the vaulted ceilings, the silvery white glow of the moon shining through the skylights. But, your time exploring their apartment is cut short as Stiorra practically yanks you down the hall, not even stopping when her fingers curl into the collar of her husband’s shirt to drag him along too. 

Their bedroom hosts a beautifully espresso-colored ornate four-poster bed (probably a California king) garnished with what looks like the most luxurious, soft, plush linen set in a deep navy that you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. The bright overhead light coming from a beautiful gold and crystal chandelier blinds you briefly before dimming down to a soft warm glow, just enough that you can see them clearly. Well, there’s clearly no time to run now seeing as you’ve officially ventured into the lions den. 

Butterflies dance in your stomach as the anticipation for the evening peaks inside of you. Your grip on the heavy crystal glass in your hands tightens as your hand begins to tremor. Sure, this might not be your first time, but it is your first threesome with thousand-year-old vampires who most definitely know what they are doing when it comes to pleasure. 

But then a gentle hand brushes the hair away from your shoulders, tickling the delicate skin there in the most delightful way. You turn towards the sensation, your eyes meeting the deep chocolate brown of Stiorra’s who beams at you like an angel as her husband trails kisses along her neck. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” The sweetness and sincerity in her musical voice soothes the trepidation inside of you, just enough that you take the step forward towards her to close the distance. The glass in your hands gets passed to Sigtryggr, disappearing almost like magic (though really it only seems that way as you’re too busy worrying your lower lip as you become enchanted by Stiorra’s beauty once more). 

Then finally, her lips are on yours, gentle and soft - like she’s easing you into the evening ahead. The taste of sweet maraschino cherries overpowers the lingering bits of iron from her earlier meal, but it’s the way her feather-light touch skims over your frame that makes you wobble at the knees. For a moment, it’s just the two of you underneath the most glorious clear night sky, the kind of night where you can see the milkyway in all its different shades of blues, purples, greens and grays. 

And oh my god, the way her tongue runs over the seam of your lips has you daydreaming about how glorious it might be to have her wield it between your thighs. She giggles when you whimper into her mouth, hands fumbling into her hair as you attempt to pull her as flush to you as possible. But instead, she shifts beneath your touch till one of your hands lands on something much harder, like granite. 

Your eyes flutter open, unveiling the new placement of your hand. Sigtryggr lifts your chin, pulling you towards him as your lips meet for the second time this evening. You can taste his wife on his lips and the faint remnants of bourbon. Melting into his touch, you keen forward onto your tiptoes as you pull him closer, nails digging into the sides of his head. 

A sharp nip at your neck has you inhaling sharply, but only for a moment as seconds later, your head begins to fall back as a tongue sweeps over the tender area. As you relish in the feeling, one of your companions hands slides up across your stomach till it lands on one of your breasts. Your back arches, pressing yourself further into their touch as they begin to knead the soft mound. Then a moan trembles of your lips when fingers find your nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top and bra giving the hardened nub a sudden twist. 

The sensations halt suddenly, a little whine coming from your throat as you hear the beginnings of a belt buckle loosening. Stiorra stands directly between you and her husband now. You watch, fingers brushing over your now tender and slightly swollen lips, as Stiorra quite literally rips away the king’s shirt, hands exploring the smooth muscle of his rock solid six pack then slowly descending lower and lower till one slips down past the waist band of his boxers. 

Sigtryggr’s head hits the wall behind him with a loud clang as he groans his wife’s name. You swear you hear her smirk right before she falls to her knees in front of him. And then there it is… just as rock solid as his abs…Fuck, he’s big. The queen runs her hand up and down the length of the steel rod, stopping ever so often to brush her thumb over the tip or give a little kitten lick to the underside as Sigtryggr steps his way out of his remaining garments. Arousal pools between your legs, yearning to know what it feels like to have the king’s cock sheathed inside of you….or even just get a taste. 

And then as if she can read your mind, Stiorra pulls you down next to her. “You want a taste of my husband’s cock, don’t you?” That playful little smirk of hers that promises nothing but trouble appears again after you somehow manage to nod while picking your jaw up off the floor as she adds, “He likes it when you take him deep.” 

Sigtryggr’s fingers rake through his wife’s hair in a sweet but possessive way commanding, “You’re going to need to show her, my love.” 

His thumb then presses at the hinge of her jaw, till her mouth falls open for him. Your mouth begins to water to the point where you might be drooling as you watch the king slowly guide his member into the mouth of the queen then keeps going…and going…and going… till only an inch or so remains. 

His hips rock forward as Stiorra remains still as a statue, eagerly and easily taking her husband’s cock in her mouth like it’s the simplest gesture in the world. Even when he holds her at the deepest point for a few long seconds, she hardly flinches. And, it’s not until he pulls her off him with a swift tug of her hair that the queen makes any noise beyond the muffled garbled noises from having her husband’s dick shoved down her throat. But even looking positively wrecked from her husband throat fucking her, the queen is still as radiant as ever, now just with mussed hair, rosy cheeks, and glistening lips. 

The soft mewling sounds emanating from Stiorra quickly morph into soft purrs when Sigtryggr’s hand moves to cup his wife’s throat. Her head then flips towards you, deep brown eyes now blown an onyx color, a wicked grin plastered on her face. She reaches out to you, brushing your hair off your shoulder before wrapping her hand around your jaw. Then slowly, the queen begins to guide the king’s cock into your mouth inch by inch. 

“That’s a good girl,” she praises as her fingers brush through your hair, slowly bobbing your head up and down for you. “Just like that.” 

Tears brim your eyes as Sigtryggr fucks you, each thrust hitting the back of your throat. Your nails dig into his arse, eager to please him just as his wife had done. Though, there’s no way you can do what she did, only able to tolerate most of his length. A growl emanates from low in Sigtryggr’s throat as he pulls himself all the way out. 

Air fills your lungs, your following gasp a little too loud for your liking. But neither one of your companions seem to notice as Stiorra leans into the hand that strokes her head, gleaming like an obedient pet whose just been praised for good behavior. There’s genuine love in the way Sigtryggr looks back at her, but there’s pride there too. It’s the kind of affection you only see between two people who would stop at nothing but to give the world to one another, so unbreakable that even death would only seem to be a new beginning, like a gateway to eternity. 

With one more deep inhale and a lick of your lips, you return to the work you started, this time relying more on your tongue as you run it underneath the entirety of his length then swirl it around the tip. The milky white bead his cock weeps burns your throat slightly when you swallow it. But, you ignore the slight discomfort, desperate to please in hopes of having the ache that now throbs between your thighs quelled by one of them…or both of them…really whatever they want to do. 

A delicate hand lands on your shoulder, then tugs backwards ever so slightly, just enough that you know they’re asking you to stop. Together, the three of you migrate to the bed, where Stiorra immediately shoves her husband onto his back. The mattress has a little give to it as you crawl a top of it, preparing to take Sigtryggr’s cock again. But just as you get into position, a vice grip entraps your ankle then yanks you towards the head of the bed. 

The sound of fabric tearing fills the room for a moment, the remnants of your lace thong fluttering to the floor. Then the king’s tongue is running up and down the length of your seam. You fall forward onto your hands, a moan immediately trembling off your lips…Fuck. Never in your life could you have imagined sitting on top of one the hottest men to ever exist as he wields his tongue in ways you did not ever think were even possible and yet…here you are….

Slow teasing passes turn into more deliberate strokes, then small flicks till he’s narrowing his focus onto the small pearl at the apex of your sex. You peel your tank top off of yourself, desperate to have every inch of you touched as you ride the king’s face. When he suddenly groans against you again, likely from the way the queen continues her magic on him at the base of the bed, your walls begin to tighten as your get closer and closer to reaching your high. 

It’s all over for you once he slips two fingers inside your cunt, alternating between scissoring the two digits and thrusting them against the second most sensitive point of your womanhood. Your chest rises and falls, faster and faster as an electrifying tingle begins to spread out from your core to the tips of your toes. And when your high finally comes, you cry out the king’s name, panting as you whole body begins to tremble. 

“Seems like our lille dukke is enjoying herself,” Stiorra muses as Sigtryggr moves you beside him, all while a rush of heat stains your cheeks crimson. Had you really been that loud? 

“Do I sense a bit of jealously, my love?” The king says as his hand makes lazy sweeps over Stiorra’s thigh. 

“Only that you got to taste her first.” 

Then like a lioness on the prowl, the queen crawls on top of her husband. Now clad in only a delicate black lace full lingerie set, a singular piece probably costing more than your entire outfit, you gawk at the vixen as if she is the prey being served to you on a platter, wishing to roam your hands all over her lithe frame. Alas, it’s the king who receives that honor first. 

Your arousal still clings to Sigtryggr’s lips and barely-there stubble as Stiorra captures her husband’s lips with her own, grinding herself against him. But she does not just clean his face of you, taking her husband’s fingers still glistening from your cunt into her mouth as she sucks them clean, a motion that immediately reignites your heady need to be ravished by the two of them. 

Sigtryggr’s hands palm at Stiorra’s arse then slowly roam up over her back, the straps her bra falling forward off her shoulders from the force of the elastic snapping open. It falls to the floor as the two mates continue to relish in each other’s touch, making you start to wonder if your time with them is over.

You’d already gotten much more than you had initially expected, thinking you’d mostly be pleasuring them then the other way around. But just as you’re ready to slip away, Stiorra sets her sights on you, the breathtaking lioness cornering you like prey. 

You taste yourself on her tongue as she rids you of your bra, hands massaging your sensitive mounds. Kisses then skate down across your neck, over past your collar bone, till she takes one of your pebbled nipples into her mouth. Your back arches into her as you pull her closer, your body aching for her to unravel you. A mewling noise releases itself when a couple of her fingers slip past your folds, dipping briefly into your cunt, your whimpers only growing louder when she pulls her digits away. 

“I think someone’s ready for you, Sig.” 

Then like she’s your lady-in-waiting, Stiorra helps you straddle her husband. You whimper again as the tip of Sigtryggr’s cock slides against your slickness, then slowly slips into you. Just like the queen had guided your head when your first took Sigtryggr into your mouth, she guides your hips, lifting you up and down. Your head falls back, the fullness alone driving you mad. But, it’s when Stiorra’s singular digit begins to draw circles over the hooded bundle of nerves that you start moaning out both their names. 

Sigtryggr’s hands replace Stiorra’s in roaming your body, fingers occasionally tweaking your nipple or sliding over your pearl as you ride the king. As you surrender to the slow build, your teeth sink into your lower lip, watching the queen slip her panties off her long curvaceous legs. 

Stiorra’s thumb brushes tenderly across her husband’s forehead as she places a gentle kiss to his lips. Fuck, if you were anywhere else, you’d be getting your camera out at how adorable the two of them look. It’s the kind of love you hope to find one day, one that earns the title of the greatest love story ever written or recorded. 

A growl reverberates from deep within Sigtryggr’s chest suddenly, as his hands fly to his wife’s hips, pulling her up on top of his face just as you had been early. Stiorra hums, grinding herself down against her husband. Then her chocolate brown eyes are on you again. 

She leans forward, a wildness alight on her features as she pulls your face close to hers. The kiss she gives you sends butterflies flipping in your stomach with it’s gentleness, almost like she’s telling you that she cares about you too. Your fingers lace through her silken hair, the scent of vanilla and roses overwhelming you once more. God, you could kiss this vixen for hours. 

Then, fuck, there’s that sharp twinge of pain mixing with waves of pleasure as the Queen suckles at your pulse point. A warmth trickles down your neck, bright droplets of cherry red dripping down Stiorra’s lips onto Sigtryggr’s chest. Her grin spreads across her face when you offer her your wrist next, needing to feel that sensation over and over again. She takes it eagerly, savoring a few mouthfuls before placing your hand back over your clit where she helps you draw small quick circles. 

A loud smack sounds through the room, though Stiorra only smirks, removing herself from her husband’s face. Then Sigtryggr lifts you off of him, like your weight is equal to a feather, before positioning you onto all fours as he climbs behind you.

“You’ve been greedy tonight, my love.”

Stiorra guffaws, “You started it. Besides, she tastes sweeter than candy.” 

“Perhaps, it’s time I take a taste as well.” 

Then for a moment, your back is flush to his chest, his teeth sinking into you as he finally takes a taste. You shudder beneath his touch, head lolling back onto the king’s shoulder as he drinks from you.  Another sharp pang at your wrist sends your eyes flying open, catching the reflection of the three of you in the windows. Sigtryggr’s hands explore every inch of your naked body, kneading and massaging his way up and down. Every nerve is on fire as you stare breathlessly at the reflected image, inciting a frenzy inside of you. But, it’s when the king and queen’s blood-tinged lips meet in a messy kiss as they share the taste of you that your core goes molten. 

You cry out as Sigtryggr suddenly sheaths himself inside of you, your hands somehow managing to catch you before you face plant. His pace is faster than yours had been, hips snapping into you over and over again. Moan after moan rolls of your lips, one after another, growing louder as every thrust hits you deeply, right at the second most sensitive spot of your cunt. 

The queen moves in front of you, her legs opening up to you as she puts her womanhood on display like an invitation to the most decadent meal. You lick your lips, leaning closer and closer till your head just hovers above her center. The queen’s hand threads into your locks, gently stroking across your scalp; she wants you too. 

Your first taste of her is sweet yet salty, twinged with the same acidity you had tasted on Sigtryggr, like it’s not quite meant to be experienced by humans. You dive in anyways, your tongue swiping up and down her seam, eyes flickering back up every so often to ensure that what you’re doing pleases the queen. She keeps her hand intertwined with your hair, tingles spreading from your head to your toe as she massages your scalp. Then, Stiorra finally hums when you spread her folds to kitten lick at her nub. 

You pause suddenly, spotting Sigtryggr’s hand reaching forward as his lust-ridden voice says, “She likes it when you’re mean.” Then his fingers pinch at her pebbled nipple, twisting it in a way that can only seem a little painful, “Don’t you, my love?” 

For the first time that evening, you truly hear the queen roar with pleasure as her back arches off the mattress, chest pressing further into her husband’s palm. With your new instructions, you return to your work, eager to make the vixen purr just as her husband had done. And when your nail accidentally scrapes at Stiorra’s pearl, you begin to piece together what the king had meant for you to do. 

Alternating between sweet strokes and small nips, Stiorra begins to squirm beneath your touch as her body sings for you. All the while, your own body begins to inch closer and closer to the edge, walls beginning to flex against Sigtryggr’s cock as he continues to fuck you. Your peak comes suddenly like a wave crashing over you, your whole body clenching then releasing in the most delicious way, barely able to continue your work with the queen. 

Sigtryggr carries you through your orgasm, letting you ride out every ounce of it till you’re a breathless mess. Then with a sigh, his movements halt suddenly, “I’m close, my love.” 

Like a trained pet, Stiorra’s legs snap shut as she rolls towards her husband, gently nudging you out of the way. 

With a wink she teases, “Dont want any babies with married man do ya?”

A loud smack reverberates around the room, the bed rattling beneath you so forcibly that you think it might break, when Sigtryggr’s hand lands on his wife’s ass, a slyful smirk on his lips.

But she hardly moves, keening forward ever so slightly on to her hands as a soft moan escapes her lips. “I think you’re losing your touch,” she teases, despite her wrecked voice and onyx-blown eyes indicating otherwise. 

Sigtryggr’s teeth sink into Stiorra’s arse, then his head disappears out of sight. Your thighs press together suddenly, hoping the action might hide the way desire now pools out of you as you watch the mated pair. Only seconds pass before Stiorra’s hands fist into the sheets at your feet, her head falling forward. Her shuddered breaths fill the room, slowly growing louder like till she can no longer hold herself back, her husband’s name falling off her lips in a cry.

The shine of Stiorra’s cunt glimmers off her husband’s fingers and barely-there beard as he reemerges. Sucking his digits clean, he says “Still think I’ve lost my touch?”

When the queen arches her back, wriggling her ass at him like a mouse being dangled in front of a hungry feline, you think you might shatter right then and there, wishing to both trade places with her and be her undoing. 

Then she says, “Hmm, I think you could learn a thing or two from our lille dukke ” making a rush of heat form beneath your cheeks.  

And by the way Sigtryggr grips his wife’s hips, a way that can only be bone-crushing to a human, then buries his cock inside of her in one quick snap of his hips, you are certain she’s driving him crazy too.

The heat beneath your cheeks deepens to the point that you’re sure if you looked in a mirror right now you’d be scarlet as you watch the king fuck his queen. Sigtryggr’s hands rake into his wife’s hair as he pulls her up against his chest, hips bucking into her at a pace far quicker and harsher than he had been with you. The muscles in his forearm flex beneath his flesh as he holds it flush against the chestnut-haired queen’s waist while his other hand moves from her hair to cup her chin, tilting it up and away till he can sink his teeth right beneath her ear. His wife squirms against him, a mewling noise trembling off her lips. 

You inhale sharply, tongue running over your lips as you watch the hand around Stiorra’s neck slowly descend down through the valley between her breasts then across her stomach, only stopping once it has reached the small tiny pearl at the apex of her thighs. Your legs squeeze together even tighter, the slickness of your arousal pooling out of you making your thighs slip against each other instinctually as you try to quell the throb you feel in your cunt.  

One of Stiorra’s arms snakes up behind her husband’s head, pulling him down towards her till their noses brush. There’s a tenderness in the way she kisses him, like it’s meant to show love not passion. More importantly, it’s clear as day now that they’re done with you with the way the two mates hold each other’s gazes, lost in their love and lust for one another once more.  

Somehow you manage to will yourself to move, needing to force yourself to look anywhere else but at them before your drool drips onto the sheets. But just when you’ve swung one leg over the edge of a bed, a delicate hand wraps around your wrist, then a voice that sounds prettier than a bird song floats over your ears, “Oh, don’t think we’re finished with you just yet.” 

Stiorra falls back onto her palms like a feline, releasing the grip of your wrist in favor the ankle still on the bed. Then before you can process what she’s doing, her hands pin your knees to the mattress, putting your glistening cunt on display. 

“I think somebody wishes we were rougher with her,” the queen smirks. 

Heat flushes your cheeks again, but your bashfulness is only short-lived for the queen’s tongue licking your inner thigh clean of your slickness as she trails closer to your center has you seeing stars. Unlike her husband, she plays with you, taking her sweet time as she nibbles and flicks her tongue  anywhere but where you seek it most. A musical amused giggle tickles your flesh, causing your hips to buck a second time; the first having been when the queen suddenly sank her teeth into your thigh. 

A loud smack sounds through the air at the same time Stiorra jolts. “Play nice with our lille dukke,” Sigtryggr’s husky voice chides. 

You catch Stiorra pouting as she looks over her shoulder to her husband whose palm twitches against her ass, his pointed look promising trouble if she continues with her antics. Then with a dramatic eye roll, the queen starts to lower herself onto her forearms, as if she’s finally about to give you what you need. 

But just as you feel her warm breath against your folds, you stutter “No it’s - it’s okay. I kinda liked it.” 

Stiorra gleams brighter than a neon sign, a smile that can only promise wicked things pulling at the corners of her mouth. Then after a quick flash of her tongue at her husband, she begins to reward you for your confession. 

Kitten-licks to the small bead at the apex of your sex turn to quick tight circles as you begin to fall a part beneath the queen’s touch. You’re back arches off the silken sheets, gripping them so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The Queen’s name trembles off your lips and just when you start to see fireworks, she plunges two fingers inside of your cunt. Together with her tongue, the queen’s fingers curl and pit patter inside of you bringing you higher and higher. You begin to tremble beneath her touch, toes curling while you beg for your release till finally, every nerve explodes with pleasure as your third little death completely destroys you. 

Your body goes limp as your peak comes crashing back down, chest rising and falling at a slower and slower rate as a warm hum begins to spread throughout your limbs. Never once in your life have you felt so satiated by a sexual encounter…felt so alive. 

When you finally find the energy (and will) to push up to your elbows, you find an endearing sight in front of you. The queen has her legs wrapped around the king’s waist as her hands cradle his head, kisses swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure. Fuck, they even make finishing together look straight out of a twisted Hallmark movie as they whisper sweet nothings to each other. They really couldn’t be any more of a perfect couple. 

Moments later, Stiorra lands on the bed next to you looking like a giddy preteen about to have her first sleepover party as she kneels at your side. You catch the towel Sigtryggr tosses your way, wiping your body as clean as a dry towel will allow as Stiorra runs hands through your hair. 

“Can we keep her? Please?” Stiorra begs, stroking your forehead like you’re a…like you’re her new doll. 

“It’s not up to us, my love.” 

Stiorra rolls her eyes at her husband again then bites her wrist and offers it to you. “It’ll help you heal faster.” 

You nod, apprehensively bringing her wrist to your mouth. A rush of warmth flows over your tongue like you’re drinking warm honey instead of blood. You whimper when the wrist disappears suddenly, depriving you of the sweet nectar, only for a larger slightly rougher wrist to replace it as Stiorra grumbles “Hey!” 

“My blood’s stronger,” Sigtryggr teases, a smacking sound presumably coming from his wife shortly following the jab. “Alright, that’s enough lille dukke. Don’t want to bleed us dry.” 

A sheepish grin tugs at the corners of your lips as Stiorra tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Such a good lille dukke.” Then with a sigh, she pulls back the covers, “Come let’s get you to sleep.” 

You open your mouth to protest, insist that you take a cab back to your flat, only to feel the rush of exhaustion weigh down your eyelids. You have your location shared with your friends. Plus, Sigtryggr and Stiorra don’t seem to want to murder you…yet. So perhaps, staying the night isn’t the worst idea in the world. With a yawn, you slip underneath the covers where Stiorra nestles herself between you and her husband, pulling you close to her as your scalp begins to tingle from her fingers stroking through your hair. Then, only moments later you succumb to the sweetest slumber. 

The bed is empty except for yourself when your eyes flutter open the next morning. A sharp pang pierces your heart as you look around the room searching for them. You’d think it had all been dream had you not woken up in someone else’s apartment. With a mournful sigh, your toes flex against the wooden floor as you push yourself to stand then go searching for whatever remains of your clothing. And that’s when you see it - a small pile of clothes and shoes that are not yours, a paper bag, a danish pastry, and a small note written in the most elegant calligraphy you have ever laid eyes upon: 

“Our driver will take you home whenever you’re ready to leave, just let the doorman know. We hope to hear from you soon, lille dukke.” 

Then in a slightly less elegant hand-writing, an addendum: 

“PS - Keep the clothes. I have plenty. What remains of yours are in the bag.” 

[fan-goddess]

Just tickling…

Authors Note: I’ve spoken to the artist, and they asked and gave me permission to write this. But I highly recommend to go check out the original art piece, the link for is here. This is pretty much the story/written version of this

Summary: You’re in the middle of being worshipped to heaven by your husband, only your daughter can’t sleep…

Warnings: Hints at smut, innocent child, religious talk,

Tags: @slytherincursebreaker

It had taken nearly half an hour to get your daughter to finally get into her bed and fall asleep. You tried reading her her favourite stories, you tried tucking her in bed with todays favourite teddy bears, you even tried promising her with a day with only her uncle Finan and uncle Sihtric, which you know would’ve only made Osferth sigh and worry about if you were forced to tell him.

Though by the end, after all that, all it took for her to close her eyes and sleep, was for you to promise that for tomorrow instead of her normal Honey Loop cereal, she got to have pancakes with chocolate chips and a drizzle of honey on top. You were already dreading the sugar high you know will absolutely happen, but at least for now you could finally get into bed and sleep and cuddle next to your loving husband.

“Is she finally asleep?” Osferth asks as you close the bedroom door behind you and get into bed.

“Yeah… just to warn you though, you’ll need to buy some flour in the morning love. May have needed to barter with her and it included chocolate chip pancakes with syrup…” You smile as you burrow into your husbands warm bare chest and sigh with relief.

You can feel the vibrations of his laugh as he chuckles lightly. “That’s our girl! Taking after her mother!”

“Excuse me mister!” You exclaim, hitting him jokingly on the chest with the back of your hand slightly. You go back to cuddling his chest, but as you feel your eyes begin to droop, the feeling of Osferths lips trailing the skin of your exposed shoulder, certainly begins to stir you. “What are you doing Os?” You mumble, smiling slightly as you become more vigilant the closer his lips get to the inner curve of your shoulder.

“Just showing appreciation to my gorgeous wife, and our daughters oh so beautiful mother…” He murmurs, turning the both of you over so you’re on your back, and he has better access to your lips. The sound of your lips smacking filling the room as the two of you hold each other.

His hands move to the edge of your sleeping shorts, and slowly take them off so your left half bare to him under the sheets. “Such a wonderful perfect wife…” Osferth smiles as his hand begins to trace circles on your clit, and he greedily takes in your pleasure stained face.

He suddenly stops, much to your annoyance, but your mood certainly brightens as his hands move to take off his own underwear and now totally bare himself to you, the sight of him never not a turn on for you.

Osferth makes no hesitation in entering you, groaning deeply at the feeling of you automatically clenching your walls on him, as if you were attempting to pull him deeper inside of you. “Always amazing you utter goddess…” He murmurs leaning forward to kiss you deeply whilst you moan softly.

“Careful sweet husband… is your faith not monotheistic?”

“You of all people my wife should know I abandoned the reigns of my faith long ago… and I shall abandon them once more as I worship you tonight…” If those words didn’t affect you in some way, then there must be something wrong with you, as when you heard them you could feel yourself become somehow more aroused than you already were.

His thrusts though, soon find themselves becoming rougher and rougher, as the tip of his cock hits that part deep inside of you that you yourself could never reach. At the sudden sensation though, you automatically clench down on him in pleasure and dig your nails into the skin of his shoulders slightly, smiling at the sound of his light groans hitting your ears.

You can feel yourself becoming close, a feat Osferth always manages to achieve with you, always leaving you satisfied and wanting more. The knot in your lower stomach becomes tighter the harsher Osferth pushes himself inside of you, and your arms once digging into his shoulders move to the sheets to clench between your fists for stability.

You’re almost there, you know Osferth only needs to thrust a couple times before you-

“Mummy, Daddy? What are you doing?”

The room immediately turns stuffy and panicky as both you and Osferths heads snap to the direction of your daughters voice. Your cheeks feel as if they’re on fire as a harsh blush takes over not only on your face, but your husbands aswell. She looks so innocent, just standing there in her new pyjamas and holding her stuffed bunny that the two of you got her for her birthday.

“Mummy and daddy are tickle fighting!” Osferth exclaims. From the corner of your eye you can see the deep blush spreading to his neck, and if the moment wasn’t so serious you would’ve made a joke. Instead, you glare harshly at his sudden used excuse while he looks back at you sheepishly.

“A tickle fight! Can I join-“

“NO!” This time, the both of you exclaim it as quick as you can. The panic clear in each others eyes and voices, and yet your daughter is still oblivious. She still continues, to your and Osferths relief, to just stare at the both of you with a bright smile on her face.

“It’s a… grown up tickle.. fight… it’s not for you! Because-“

“Because it’s very very advanced!” You chime in. You almost regret saying no at the sight of your dejected daughters face and the small sad “Oh…” She makes at your and Osferths stumblings, but then you remember the situation you’re in, and you certainly don’t feel as bad as you did before.

“Well I hope you win mummy, because daddy’s winning!” She chirps in, looking happy once more before leaving and closing the door behind her, to hopefully go back to her bedroom and sleep. Still, you and Osferth anxiously wait with held breaths until it’s been long enough, and soon the two of you are giggling in a mixture of shock, shame and disbelief.

“Oh my god…” You mutter in disbelief, both your faces still red, though what once was due to pure horror and shock now stay that way due to pure disbelief and amusement. “I probably need to go check on her…” Osferth removes himself from you, the passion once prominent in the room now quickly depleted after the incident. You place a quick kiss to Osferths forehead before putting on your sleeping shorts once more and heading to the direction of your daughters room.

You peak in slightly, and your heart instantly warms at the sight of your daughter sleeping soundly in her bed cuddled up to her rabbit. The soft blue of her nightlight casting a light glow that washes over her, while the sound of her light snores make it to your ears. “Night night little one…” You whisper by instinct, not even really caring if she heard you or not, as you close the door back up and head back to your room.

This time, both you and Osferth actually go to sleep. Giving into the need for rest as you cuddled with each other, relishing in the warmth the two of you provide each other with.

“Love you…” You hear murmured quietly in your ear.

“Love you too handsome…” You instinctively whispered back with a small smile.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Under the mistletoe (modern!Osferth x reader)

synopsis: Your friends are tired of watching you and Osferth dance around each other, so they push you to do something about all that tension.

warnings: fluff, afab reader

word count: 1.3k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged in the `kissing booth AU´, for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

"Ugh why did we wait this long to redecorate?" You whine as you stretch to pull some tinsel of one of the busts in the waiting area of the tattoo and piercing studio. "It's the end of January. Whose idea was it to decorate this much in the first place anyway?" All four of your coworkers give you a look, their eyebrows all different levels of raised. Low laughter follows through the studio and you raise your hands in defeat. "You know we only waited so you would have to help." Sithric whispers in your ear teasingly as he pushes past you to get to a box that was already half filled. "Next time I have an idea like that keep me from it, please. I'm begging you." You reply with a smile. In truth you enjoyed these tasks almost as much as you did working in the studio. There was laughter and music at all times and the customers were great as well. Even if you joined much later than the others, who had helped Uthred build the studio basically from the ground up, they immediately welcomed you and took you into their little family. Bending down to pick up a full box to take it to storage, you feel a cough bubble up your lungs. Immediately Osferth is by your side to take the carton off your hands. "Here, let me take that from you." He says in that usual, kinda quiet and husky voice of his.

"Thank you." You rasp in return. As he actually takes the carton though your hands touch accidentally, making both your faces heat up and the box nearly fall as you look away from each other. Over the antics neither of you notice the other three men rolling their eyes and sharing a look that signified the start of their mission. Too long they had to watch Osferth and you dance around each other. They were tired of the shy glances and flushed faces and whining about how perfect the other was only to never act on the feelings that were harbored and cared for like a delicate flower.

Despite your complaints the five of you make quick progress. However, with the last full box disappearing, so do three out of five people in the studio. Even more suspicious is that the person you are left with, is Osferth. Not that you would complain about that, not considering the multiple times you had, it simply seems like just the thing your friends would do to nudge you two closer together. Oh and how right you were with that thought. The two of you look through all the rooms to find nothing out of the ordinary aside from your friends obvious missing. At least until you lean in the frame of the door leading outside. A cigarette in hand as you brainstorm what could have happened, when said doorframe gives the answer. Above your heads hangs one last decoration element. A fucking mistletoe. As if on command both Osferth's and your face heat up and you get physically unable to look at each other. "I... We don't have to do this if you don't want to..." He offers in a quiet, uncertain tone. "Yeah, I just wanted to say the same." You give an awkward giggle. "On the other hand it is a tradition, right?"

"And no one would want that kind of bad luck we would conjure by not doing it. I mean..." Osferth adds on.

"Yeah, no, that would definitely be unwanted." You shake your head enthusiastically.

There is a pause for a moment, where Osferth watches your lips wrap around the cigarette bud, to suck in the nicotine, closely. Just like your eyes rest on his to witness the borderline sinful way he tugs the lower lip between his teeth. Then as if on cue both of your eyes shoot up to lock in an intense gaze. A gaze that leaves no questions about what is about to happen. He has you under his spell by those blue eyes, that make you feel like you are about to drown in them. You barely dare to lean to the side to stump out your cigarette in the ashtray, in fear of breaking the moment.

"So..." The beginning of the sentence dies in your throat just as quickly as it began leaving it.

Neither of you has to say anything more either, as through it all you hadn't even realised, that the two of you had started moving closer subconsciously.

You take that last step that separates the two of you towards him and rest your hands on his shirt. The warmth of his skin gets transported even through the soft fabric of the ugly Christmas sweater to your fingertips, warming them nicely against the chilly wind blowing around you. Your eyelids flutter and only seconds before his lips finally brush against yours for the first time they close entirely. The kiss is much like you. A shy connection, that only lasts a second before being pulled away from. Yet it ignites a fire in you and so you give Osferth barely a second before you go in for a second kiss. One that is not so gentle and shy. Despite his surprise, his hands pull you closer by the waist while simultaneously pushing you up against the large glass window. Both of you grasp at each other to keep as close as possible. Drunk on the way your lips pressed against and devoured each other. Every oh so little feeling and missed chance to kiss ever since you first laid eyes on each other flows into the vehement and quite honestly desperate embrace. Unprompted Osferth opens his mouth a bit further, so you take the chance to let your tongue dart out, to lick over his lower lip and into it. Instantly it is met by his own tongue. The way it dances with yours and explores you like no one before, like he wanted to know and memorize every deepest part of you, makes a swarm of butterflies soar up and run riot. You pull each other impossibly close, there is no need for air between you or inside of your lungs. No world around you. No feeling of time. It is all replaced by the electric feeling of him. You are unsure if it is minutes or mere seconds until you get broken up by someone clearing their throat loudly behind you. For all you know it felt like hours. All the more dismayed is your expression when you turn around to see who has interrupted the two of you in the best moment of your life so far.

"At first it was cute, but can you seriously get a room? Some of us want to have a smoke without watching you basically eat each other." Finan commented dryly.

"You can hardly blame us. In the end this was your plan, wasn't it?" You shoot back in a half defensive half chuckling tone. "Yeah, yeah. Just blame us, it's alright. I just hope you know we'd do it again any day if it meant ending that horrible, horrible tension between you two love birds." Your friend answers with an unapologetic glimmer in his dark brown eyes. Behind you Osferth slips his hand inside yours to intertwine your fingers. The beat your heart skips at the touch reminds you of what you were doing just a minute ago, what you desperately wanted to get back to. You give his hand a short squeeze and then lead him towards one of the rooms in the back. "You know what? Remind me to thank y'all for it later, but now you'll have to excuse me. Osferth and I were kind of in the middle of something." You turn around to see where you are walking. The last sound you can hear from Finan is a low groan, as Sithric who seemingly just joined him asked what was happening. Then the door locks and you two are finally alone again. A fact that you use without hesitation, to crash your lips against each other in a hungry kiss once more. One thing was sure, it was definitely one of the first for many more to come.

[lady-wyrd]

I like to imagine Stiorra and Sigtryggr finding each other in every lifetime 🖤

[arcielee]

My heart. 💔

This was such a unique and interesting take for a modern AU for The Last Kingdom. I was rapt from the beginning to the end. The chemistry you created between your OC and Finan just held onto my heart with the way you described it:

She was made for him. Their connection so innate, so intuitive from the first glance to the first touch. He believed she was a blessing to his mundane and lonesome existence, the bloom of spring after a brutal winter.

And the gothic flare to it, the witchcraft interlaced with your narrative was brilliant. It really allowed you to create and build up moments that gave a sense of relief.

He could feel the magic work through him, the blood receding from his veins as he grew cold. The tightening hold that choked him for so many centuries was loosening, the grip around his neck fainting until it eventually let go. The burden of the curse was turning into dust, the remnant pieces drifting away from the Irishman’s skin with the wind pushing them to the flames, burning their essence on hellfire.

In conclusion, this story was just beautiful and heart wrenching. I will now go drown in my tears. 💜

timeless | final chapter

author’s note: this is the end of the road! to the ones who have been reading this story and who stuck around, i’m sending you all my love! thank you ❤️ hoping the ending will be just as enjoyable :) Lots of love and stay safe 💕

       With a tidal wave drowning him at sea, Finan had woken up from his nightmare in a fright.

Body drenched in sweat, heart ragingly palpitating in his chest, the Irishman was catching his breath as the moon’s glow shone behind him, the timid light casting itself across the bedroom.

He felt pressure behind him, weight on his right; Becca had been pulled away from her sleep at the agitation shaking the bed. She quickly reached for him, her hand stroking his back as she leaned against him, bringing him to her.

“Finan-”

Chest heaving heavily, his stare remained straight into the void, his mind’s cloud slowly dissipating as his view acclimated to the darkness around them. 

“Finn, love- are you alright?” She was gentle, knowing all too well not to either panic or rush. “Was it her?” 

He reached for her, his fingers grasping tightly.

She moved around to sit in front of him, hands on his cheeks, as to direct his haunted eyes back to her. It took a moment, but he eventually fell into reality, the colour of her irises becoming the rope he hung onto.

“I-I’m fine.” He knew she didn’t believe him - he simply ignored it. He adjusted his sight, blinking and rubbing his eyes. His hand then rested on hers in reassurance, calmer. “I’m alright.” His breath had caught up and slowed down. 

“It’s the first time she reaches out to you… She must have had something to say.”

“Nothing she hasn’t already said to you, love. It’s alright.” He kissed the heel of her palm and lingered into her touch. She could still sense his budding agitation, and so she dropped the subject. 

Instead, she gently pushed him to lie down as she followed. 

Face to face, she wrapped her arms around him, her leg following suit as she placed it around his waist, bringing him closer. He nuzzled his face against the pillow and the crook of her neck, breathing her in. All the while, she brushed through his hair, soothing him into sleep once more.

He had his arms curled around her as well, and his lips pressed on her neck - soft pecks that made her close her eyes in surrender.

His hand wandered around her naked body, the pressure increasing through every inch until it settled on her stomach. 

She grew worried, feeling his fingertips grasping her as if they lacked air and needed it.

“Finan… What did you see?”

He was hesitant to answer, and so instead he said nothing, and kept himself in place as he caressed her skin tenderly, his eyes down and away from her.

She closed her own once again, the feel of his warmth bringing her peace despite the tumultuous awakening they were pushed into. 

“Finn-” She whispered his name, the letters floating in the air, a siren looking for her sailor.

His eyes brimmed with tears when they met hers. 

He moved, making it so he hovered above her while she lied on her back.

He leaned down and trailed gentle kisses from her lips down her body before meeting her again. Their hands joined, fingers interlaced, resting atop her head as he closed in the distance further, the budding strength of her body gently molding into his.

They locked eyes, the silence speaking the thousand words.

He nudged the tip of his nose with hers before caressing her lips and losing himself in the feel of her, forever tethered to her.

Through life and beyond death.

       It was the crack of dawn when they hit the road, the sun slowly peeking through the horizon.

Still half asleep herself, Finan had taken the wheel, driving out of London and back to Bamburgh. Only days after his reunion with Thora, the goddess had sent her messenger to Becca; it was the falcon appearing at her windowsill that told her it was time, before it flew back North.

Her family’s place was further out so they decided to rent a room in town for a closer distance to the castle.

She was able to gather all items that would be needed for tonight; all that was left was to go back to the source, to Finan’s last place alive before the curse was enacted at his first death.

The drive was a quiet one, the radio playing through its schedule and embellishing the background. 

Becca was falling in and out of sleep throughout the trip, her body having grown more and more tired the past couple of weeks. The effect of the sacrifice spell still seemed to have taken a toll on her, a lingering shadow in the dark.

They had been holding hands while he drove. Finan had quietly insisted, wanting every second of today to be near her, touching her. Fingers interlaced, she would smile to herself whenever she felt him stroke the top of her hand. 

If she wasn’t asleep, she would spend her time awake looking out the window, the calmness of their surroundings helping her remain so as well. 

“You okay, love?” They were half-way through, still morning as the sun was yet to reach its highest peak of the day.

She turned her head to him, sporting a lazy smile. “Mhmm.” 

He brought up their joint hands to his lips, placing another kiss on top of their hold. She kept the small grin, appreciative of the silent gesture.

Still watching him, she bit the inside of her cheek, the upward curves of her lips still present. “What is the first thing you want to do after tonight?”

He had a beam across his face as he pretended to be in thought; he already knew his answer, having pondered over it more and more in the last couple of months. 

He didn’t, however, get the chance to respond as she quickly stopped him.

She pulled her hand away urgently and placed it straight to her chest.

He frowned, confused. “Bex?”

“Stop the car.” She gulped, swallowing saliva as she held onto herself. “Stop-” She remained still, the car still moving though slowing down, while she tried to catch her breath. “Finn, stop the car.” 

She had opened the door just as he was pulling by the side of the road, and fell to her knees, not even able to step a bit further away from the vehicle.

Nausea gripped at her insides - she thought her nerves, or at least motion sickness, had taken the best of her.

She then threw up, her lungs coughing for air. 

Finan ran to her side, worry etched to his core. 

With her head facing the ground, she didn’t see him but knew he was there by the way he had gently pushed her hair behind her as well as resting his hands on her, stroking her back through her episode.

Hurting at her stomach, tears welled in the corners of her eyes and echoed through the sound of her strained sobs.

Once it was over, with her breath heavy in her throat, she leaned backwards and rested against Finan’s knees.

From her back, he placed his left hand on her shoulder while caressing her hair with his right, pushing the strands backwards. “Are ya feeling better?” His voice was tender, softly spoken to her ear. 

She could only offer him a nod, her head turned to her right, as she struggled to speak.

“Here.” He handed her a water bottle, which she happily took and cleaned up. “There is a stop along the way we’ll make. Are ya gonna be okay?”

“Y-yea.” He helped her get up, her hands gripping his jacket while she tried to find her footing. They remained still for a moment, the Irishman watching her carefully. She found her seat again, on the passenger’s side, and leaned backwards against the head rest with her eyes closed.

Without a word, he followed and resumed their drive until they reached their rest stop.

They got out of the car; she waited against the door while he went into the store attached to the gas station to pick up a few items.

Some short minutes later, he came out and walked back to her with hasten steps.

“What’s the surprise?” She teased while watching him rush back to her. He tried to smile, wanting to push past the discolour of her cheeks.

He was about to open the bag as she leaned over, perusing the contents that were inside. She chuckled while eyeing him, amused to see he could have almost emptied the store. “You really went all out, didn’t you?” 

He only shook his head, snickering as well. She picked out the saltines, and quickly opened them before swallowing a whole of them.

She fell back against the car, relief traced across her features. Finan watched her, amused at the way she was devouring her snack.

Though the grin eventually faded, switching to concern. 

He approached her and pushed locks of her hair behind her ear. “Bex…”

Her name hung silently in the air, unable to sing any further.

She met his gaze with a small smile gracing her dried lips. “I’m okay.”

He sighed heavily. “You’re not okay, love. The colour’s drained from ya- Was it the spell? Is it still making you tired? Or is it-”

“I think it’s a combination of everything.”

Another exhale, he nodded quietly.

He then placed his hands on her shoulders and placed the softest of kisses on her forehead. His arms trailed down to her back, rubbing to calm her as he pulled her against him. “Are ya feeling better at least?”

She dropped the saltines back in the bag before hugging him. “Just a little bit.” She tightened her hold around his waist and stayed still for a few minutes, letting the breeze carry them in this scene.

She hid her face in his chest, breathing him in, content; if she could, she would stay like this forever.

But unfortunately, time was of the essence. 

Today was the day and she could not miss the window of opportunity.

She reluctantly pushed herself away and ran her fingers through her hair. 

He gave her one last kiss, his lips pressed to her cheek, and walked to the driver’s seat, looking back at her.

“You ready?” 

       As they entered the small bed & breakfast room they had rented for their stay, Finan had gone straight for the bed and sat down at the edge, exhaustion draping over him.

Becca closed the door behind them watching him as he lied down and stared at the ceiling; a small smile escaped her lips. 

She walked over to him and stood between his legs. Feeling her in front of him, he sat back up, a grin plastered on his face. 

He silently placed his hands on her hips, his thumbs circling the skin under her shirt. Her own fingers threaded through his hair, their gaze entwined in a silent waltz.

He leaned closer towards her, lifting her shirt further up until she felt his lips pressed against her stomach, right above her navel. She giggled at the feel of his beard tickling her.

He lingered, tightening his grip ever so gently to her body.

In exchange, she tugged at his hair when his warm breath hovered above her skin. 

She then sat down on his lap, straddling him. He wrapped his arms around her just as her hands rested on his cheeks. She brushed her nose with his before sharing a tender kiss. He pulled her closer, flushed against him.

His fingers sought her out under her shirt as they traipsed towards her back. The gesture made her sigh between their lips, shivers running down her spine. 

She broke the kiss, entertained by his mood. “Are you trying to undress me, Irishman?” 

He chuckled as he quickly pulled her back to him. “Is it that obvious?”

“Unless you have another explanation as to why you’re tugging at my shirt?”

“Just examining ya. Making sure ya are well.” He teased, still holding onto her as he trailed his mouth down to her swollen breasts. 

She could only giggle, her small fit of laughter mixed with her reply. “Of course, that makes perfect sense.”

He pressed his lips against her covered chest before suddenly turning around and making her land on her back against the mattress. She met him with a gasp, taken by surprise, and yet the grin plastered on her face could not escape. “Finan!” 

He met her gaze, the mischievous glint in his eyes as apparent as the sun. “I’m sorry, love. It’s a better view from up here.”

“You are incorrigible!” 

The rumble of his laughter vibrated against her skin as he settled on top of her, placing kisses all over her exposed flesh.  

She fell into the ticklish sensation, not able to stop the fit of laughter that dressed the room - until hunger softly grumbled inside her.

Hearing the disruption, he lifted his head up with a smirk captured on the corner of his lips. “Someone’s a bit peckish.”

She sat up as he pulled away. “You bring it out of me, what can I say?”

“How about some room service?”

“I’d love that.” She softly kissed him, simple and loving.

He got up and turned around to reach the phone that was on the dresser, opposite the bed.

While on the line, with his back facing her, she quietly started to undress. She stripped her clothes off, quietly throwing them on the floor, before she slipped under the covers and waited for him.

Once he hung up, he turned to find her with her back against the headboard, sheets covering her body though she teased him with her right leg exposed to him, knee bent in temptation. All the while, she wore a sly smirk, her teeth biting her bottom lip. “We can keep ourselves busy until the food arrives.”

He matched her stance as he removed his shirt and unbuckled his pants before jumping on the mattress, earning a laugh out of her lungs.

He pulled the covers off her, exposing her bare upper body to him before he found her lips.

She wrapped her arms around him, smiling into the kiss and giggling at his eagerness as anticipation seeped through her as well.

       Not long had passed since their arrival into Bamburgh.

Finan was first to wake up from their nap, where the afternoon light peaked through the curtains. 

He carefully readjusted himself, not ready to leave the bed. 

He sat up, sitting against the headboard and looked to his right - Becca was still deep in her sleep.

He started to gently stroke her hair, his mind adrift to tonight, to tomorrow, to the day after that.

The soothing feel of his touch slowly brought a smile to her face as she was waking up from her slumber. 

She quietly lifted her eyes up to find him lost in his thoughts, his head tilted to the ceiling; chest bare, cross dangling on his chest, bed sheets covering his lower half - what a sight, she thought. 

She let him be, where his hand was still tangled in her hair. 

It felt too good to stop. 

A low satisfied moan escaped her. The soft noise caught his attention as he dropped his head to her, his mouth curved upwards in a lopsided smile.

She stretched her left arm, caressing his cheek before her fingers settled on his necklace, gently calling for him. “Come back down here.” 

Without a word, he laid down and turned so his chest was pressed against her back. He wrapped his arms around her, settling comfortably before instinctively reaching for her stomach, his palms caressing her.

They stayed this way for a few minutes, bathing in utter quietness.

She pushed herself further against him, loving the way their limbs molded so harmoniously into one another. Following her, he lifted his head just high enough to press soft kisses along her shoulder to the crook of her neck. His hand then started to wander up and down her skin, hiding under the covers. He could never get enough of the softness of her flesh; she was warm against him, her complexion glowing more fervently than usual under the sunlight.

“We had a son…” His voice startled the atmosphere, though he spoke with a low undertone.

“What? W-when?” She turned around within his embrace, facing him with furrowed brows.

He chuckled and shifted to lie on his back, his right arm still holding onto Becca.

“It was a dream…” His gaze landed on the ceiling once again as he kept going. “There was a wee boy running around with a wooden sword, outside somewhere. It felt like we were having some kind of picnic at the cottage house or something.” 

She was grinning as she followed the tracks to his daydreaming.

She turned to lie on her side, her elbow against the pillow with her left hand supporting her head. “A boy, huh?”

“Our boy.” His eyes went to her as he brought her closer, every inch of their bodies pressed to one another.

“One hell of a dream you had there, love.” Fingers traipsed along his jawline, her own mind wandering.

“Can ya blame me?” The smirk on his face had made her quietly laugh against him. She was overwhelmed by the thought, by the desperate need of wanting it all, now. 

“We have a boy.” She mumbled her words joyfully in the air, mesmerized. 

“We do.” The way he smiled at her left her heart stumbling across the pavement, still taken aback by the way he could take her breath away. “I can’t wait.” She bit her bottom lip as she spoke up, giddy. “What else happened in your dream?” She placed her leg over him, using his body as an anchor as she hung on to him.

He shrugged - there wasn’t anything else to say. “Nothing, it was peaceful- just us…”

She started trailing kisses along his arm to his shoulder, nipping at his skin tauntingly. “Were we trying for a second child at least?”

“You menace.” He spoke with a crooked grin and placed his hand to her abdomen, gently caressing her. She turned to lie on her back without looking away from him; his palm rested carefully on top of her, not letting go, as he quietly searched for her eyes. Searching for the silent words that raced around her irises, dancing so intimately and only for him. The thought of moving on with his life, the mere inkling of even the possibility of having such a life with her, overwhelmed him, imminent to burst at the seam. 

She grew timid, heat creeping up to her cheeks. She approached until she met his lips, sharing a slow kiss - a gesture that left them chasing after one another.

Becca eventually had to break away, though remained reluctant in her endeavor. “We should get going soon…”

He sighed, knowing they did not have a choice. “I know. Just…” He kissed her once again and spoke between their breaths as he slightly strengthened his hold on her. “Just a few more minutes.” He was quietly begging, desperate to make this very moment last a little bit longer. 

She silently agreed, placing her hand on his.

He inhaled, a sudden heaviness in the pit of his stomach crawling inside him. “Will it be safe? The spell…” He asked gently, frowning. He still touched her, his fingertips stroking timidly her burgeoning puffiness.

“I don’t think the gods will harm us.” His worry, etched across his features, she retraced them in the hopes to calm his nerves. “She is here to help. She’ll make me stronger.”

Her words eased him a bit, his gaze never wavering away from her. 

She was in awe - the intensity of his eyes always left her breathless, swimming in the vastest of ocean without ever feeling lost or incomplete.

Her thoughts were swirling inside her mind, still conjunct with the earlier minutes.

She was abruptly shaken out when something caught her attention.

He saw the gears in her head, the look in her eyes portraying shock and confusion. She pushed him away, hand against his chest, to widen her view. 

“Wait, did you say wooden sword?!”

He laughed, his voice booming within the walls of their room. Unable to catch him, he had quickly jumped out of the bed and ran to the bathroom. She called for him, completely dumbfounded, and could still hear his cackle on the other side of the door.

“Finan!”

       The sun hit its pinnacle of the mid evening hours.

While waiting for Bamburgh castle to reach its closing hours for the day, they had decided, in the meantime, to spend their remaining time walking around the small town.

The normalcy of the moment had taken over, making them partially forget what was waiting for them in the coming hours. 

The trail they had taken eventually led them towards the waters, the waves of the beach reaching the shore in a fiery dance, its feet tip tapping across the sand’s surface.

The couple pulled themselves away from the dying crowd, wanting their own privacy as they settled on the ground. 

Side by side, she laid her head on his shoulder as she brought her knees up, the best she could, against her chest. Finan placed a small peck on top of her forehead before looking towards the sea, memories of his past flooding him like a storm.

As for Becca, she could only think of tonight; her mind had wandered, fear taking its opportunity to sneak back and rest heavily on her chest. She felt it in the back of her throat, the lump lodged with strength as it shook her, forcing tears to grip the corners of her eyes.

The dread weighing on her shoulders had pushed her away from him. She turned to look at Finan, the man still left in deep reverie himself.

It wasn’t just revisiting the lifetimes he’s lived anymore. The path had taken him to ponder over what he would do next - as of tonight, he would be a free man.

He could finally live the remainder of his life and find peace at the end. And he would be living it with her, the only woman he had fallen for in the last millennia. 

What would come next was finally his choice.

He was brought out of thought when she spoke, her voice quivering against his shoulder. 

“Finn… I’m scared.”

He tilted his head to her, understanding the intent behind her words.

He remained silent, letting her speak further. 

“If-” She took a second, breathing in deeply. “If I fail and the spell doesn’t work-” She closed her eyes, biting down her tongue before proceeding, desperate to let her words out the way a bandage is ripped from the skin. “I’m scared that if I fail, you would grow to hate me. To resent me and leave me…”

He furrowed his brows. “Why would ya think that?”

“Because I would have given you false hope.”

“Nothing will ever change the way I feel about you.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I swear it.” His hand rested on the back of her head, palm caressing her hair, before he placed a kiss. “I’m grateful you were willing to try.” He gingerly pulled away, catching the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “Despite the obstacles we kept encountering… Ya did not give up on me.” The recollection of memories of the last year had suddenly washed over him, a haunting of a ghost. “I could never hate ya for it.”

The was solace in his words; she tried to find them.

“What about when I die, and you are still here? Would you resent me then? Would you curse me ‘till the end of days?” She tried to lighten the mood with her last words, even though her heart wore her heavy.

“You have power, Bex. I can feel it.” Once more, she dug for the comfort in his voice, searching for warmth so she could hang onto it. “Believe in it.” He reached for her amulet, holding it gently in his hand. “Believe you can channel this and break me free.” The soft undertone shaking his cords sent shivers down her spine. The letters of his speech shared between their parted mouths, she grabbed onto them and squeezed them tightly.

“I’ll try.” 

She promised herself she would. She had also told herself there was another way at this. A way she wanted to share with him.

“But if it doesn’t work, will you let me join you?” He frowned, confused. A quiet crooked smile tainted her right cheek. “Will you let me curse myself, so you won’t be alone anymore? So, we could spend forever, together?”

She rendered him speechless.

It had to come this, and it saddened him. How could he become the reason someone else was willing to give up everything for a poor soul like himself?

“Our love could be timeless. Wouldn’t that be romantic.” Once again, she tried to lighten the grimness around them, the curve of her lips faintly spreading across her face while hiding the depth of her confession.

He chuckled at her attempt. “It’s a tempting offer… And I love you for even thinking of risking ya life for me.” The smile faded away from him. She could see where he was going; it was too obvious. “But I can’t let you do that.”

“Finan, I want to do it. If it comes to it, please let me do this.” Tears pricked her cheeks, grief-stricken. “Don’t make me live in a world without you. I don’t want us to be apart.” She whispered her plea against his breath, silently crying.

He felt her cheeks wet as he kissed her, both desperate and sorrowful. 

Even if it meant desecrating the order of nature - the one thing a witch should never do - she would give it all up for him. 

He pulled her backwards until they lied down, not caring that they were resting on the sand. 

His arm curled around her shoulders, she hid herself within his embrace and let her emotions silently erupt out of her. Her fingers grasped onto his shirt, her knuckles whitening at the force of her hold. 

The sound of the waves had become background noise, made for their ears only.

The crowd was dying down, the people walking away as the day was coming to its end with the sun sliding under the water by the horizon.

His head was up to the sky, the warm hues colouring his sight.

His heart was breaking. 

Part of him hated himself for having started all of this, or at least for having encouraged their relationship right at the start. It shouldn’t have gone the way it did - he tried to convince himself but knew, in the end, it was futile. He was hooked on the first night, and then again when he purposely encountered her, and once more the first ride to Bamburgh, and every day since. 

But that other part, the one that fell for her, that loved her with such depth, could not see it any other way.

She was made for him. Their connection so innate, so intuitive from the first glance to the first touch. He believed she was a blessing to his mundane and lonesome existence, the bloom of spring after a brutal winter. 

He had stumbled along the way since he met her, but she stuck to him no matter what and it left him overwhelmed.

Their little moment was interrupted. 

The cries of a falcon hovered above them, its wings flapped against the breeze of the ocean before it settled behind them, perched on a rock. 

Becca pulled away from him, both sitting up as she tilted her head to see the bird.

She clenched her jaw, eyes closed.

She breathed in, calming her nerves, before turning back to Finan. With a reassuring smile on her face, she placed her hand on his cheek.

“It’s time.”

       They were waiting inside the castle as tourists scurried away at closing time. And as he knew his way around, Finan had made sure they would be able to sneak away, turning into ghosts within the walls. 

It took a while, not that they were complaining. 

Only when the moon was ready to reach its peak did they finally leave their hiding place and made their way outside.

And it seemed the falcon had been waiting for them. 

Becca followed the bird, making them cross the inner ward until it flew further up, reaching the flagpole above the Keep. They followed suit and reached the highest point of the property, where the view of darkness surrounded them with only the moonlight guiding them.

The bird gave its last call before flying away, leaving the couple to start.

Becca sighed, her heart rapidly beating inside her chest. 

“Ya ready?” His words rang in her ears. She looked to him, partly terrified at the upcoming moments that would unravel.

Midnight was approaching. 

They shared one more kiss, lingering within each other’s embrace for a little while longer. She held him, hands to his cheeks, and quietly whispered into his lips. “I love you.” 

A faint smile flourished across his face.

“You can do this.”

She nodded at his words and proceeded. 

She looked through her bag and started taking out a vial of salt - blessed by the high priestess of her coven. Back up to her feet, she looked to Finan, wanting a quick glimpse of him. She then continued, using the salt and marking the ground with runes in a circular motion, following the path of time as her mind fell into focus. 

And then the circle was sealed with intersecting lines, the final touch to call the goddess. 

Once complete, she cleaned her hands, the palpitations in the pit of her stomach growing heavier.

She took a deep breath, a slight tremor apparent in her lungs. “Now comes the part where you need to step inside.” She stretched her hand out to him as he followed her instructions, taking his place in the center.

Becca stood still for a second, squeezing her hold on him, before eventually letting go, a cold sensation suddenly wrapped around her palm.

She fetched the remaining ingredients - a candle, her dagger and the totem representing the hex. 

As she held the last item in her hand - a ball of rope, tightly tied into a knot with its loose ends ever so slightly peeking out from each side - her breath shortened in her lungs. 

She was holding Finan’s liberation in the palm of her hands. The knot was a simple representation of his lifeline, stuck in a loop, his true path blocked. 

All she needed to do was to re-manipulate reality, to untie the knot and set him free.

She placed the candle at her feet and approached Finan, her knife and totem in hand. “This is going to hurt.”

“Don’t worry about me, love.” The softness in his voice captured a smile at the corner of her mouth.

She lent him the knot as she took his left hand, palm up, and carefully used her dagger to cut through his skin. A subtle hiss escaped his lips; she clenched her jaw, her heart trembling. She then helped him close his hand, the blood dropping straight onto the knotted rope, staining the texture with his essence.

She repeated the process with her own hand. She was about to cut her own skin when Finan stopped her, gently placing his unmarked limb on her own. “Let me.” He took the dagger as she remained quiet, and let him cut her palm. Despite the gory gesture, there was a certain tenderness to the act.

The blood seeped from the bruise, falling onto the other side of the totem. 

Becca whispered under her breath as she watched the knot’s colour change. “Blood of the cursed, blood of the blessed.” 

Once the totem soaked under its rain, she fetched a small piece of cloth. He took it from her hand and ripped the piece in half, wrapping her wound first before she repeated the gesture for him.

She then tilted her head up to Finan. The look in her eyes let him know it was truly time.

He brought the back of her hand to his lips, sharing the softest of kiss. And without letting go of his hold, she leaned in, pressing her own lips into his. 

She backed away out of the circle and sat on her knees.

The ball on her lap, she placed the candle in front of her and called for light.

The stem lit, its fire casting shadow around its body.

She exhaled, a heavy breath to calm her nerves. 

She picked up the totem, the object resting between her hands.

“We begin.” She spoke with a firm tone, her back straight, her mind focused.

And at her words, the seal came to life, the salt burning as flames decorated the ground. 

Finan remained in the middle, quiet and watchful. Trepidation stemmed from his fingertips, the throbbing pain in his hand completely ignored.

The language of the gods slipped smoothly across her tongue, her voice carrying out as she called for her favour, the heftiness of the plea echoing through her bones and shaking the earth underneath.

The fired seal grew taller around Finan, leaving her to become almost a mirage to his eyes; she was channeling the energy of the flames, the particle of embers lacing their way through her fingertips and colliding with her magic in an unparalleled percussion.

The knot levitated a few inches above her hands, the threads of the spell woven subtly through the air and holding the item in place. Glowing in the dark, a faint golden sheen, it was the shimmer of the lighten strings that came to life as they danced around her fingers while the young witch was, once again, invoking the celestial power - the one she anchored to her own strength, to severe the link. 

To untie the knot and reverse the coerced bond that was, to set free the man that was wronged.

As the chanting boomed through the core of her being, shining violet seeped through her irises, settling as a new inhabitant. Her amulet, heated chain around her neck, held a similar path, its purple hue creating light around her. 

A faint breeze rushed around him, heightening the flames that imprisoned him on the seal.

Slowly, the totem started to detach itself from its confine, unfastening its intricate knots.

She was trembling. 

A tremor, a subtle shake like the earth, transcended through her bones. 

Channeling the powers of a god, for her mere mortal flesh - it was too much. 

It was working, but the weight of such strength echoed through the vibration of her body.

While he could hear her, the sound of her voice standing in his ears, he also saw the toll the ritual was taking on her.

She was about to crumble, thinly cracked at the seam.

The nosebleed was apparent, trickling down over her lips to her chin. 

Her breaths grew heavier, her dizziness taking hold of her mind, of her eyes.

And yet, she couldn’t forfeit. 

She heard her name, his voice calling for her with terror and anxiety rushing through him.

He tried to move, to run to her, but she stopped him, pushing him back with her mind’s eyes.

One step out and everything could be lost. 

The knot still floated, following the trance of her chant, like a snake swaying to the flute of its master.

Her voice grew louder and louder through the air.

The chain of her necklace burnt her skin, the stone fracturing through every repeated syllable of her spell.

He could feel the magic work through him, the blood receding from his veins as he grew cold. The tightening hold that choked him for so many centuries was loosening, the grip around his neck fainting until it eventually let go.

The burden of the curse was turning into dust, the remnant pieces drifting away from the Irishman’s skin with the wind pushing them to the flames, burning their essence on hellfire.

And then - the totem resolved, the knot unknotted.

It was done.

The ritual completed.

Everything became dark once again, the blaze gone, the wind vanished. The rope lying flat on the floor.

Only Finan and Becca were left.

Weakness overtook her muscles; she almost crashed to the floor as she was catching her breath.

She leaned over, using her hands as an anvil against the ground to hold herself from complete collapse.

Only her lungs serenaded the empty air.

Finan stood still, dazed. Overwhelmed.

She saw the trickle of blood falling on the stones beneath her. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, the traces vivid on her limb.

When trying to get up, Finan ran to her, helping her.

Once she was on her feet, she held on, her fingers grasping at his shirt, her eyes back to normal.

Her amulet had reached the ground at her movement, the chain broken. 

He frowned as he bent down to pick up the necklace.

He watched it, silent. The gears in his brain working through a thought.

“You gave up your magic for me?”

“A small price to pay.” It was a tired smile that graced him.

She did it.

She broke the curse like she had promised.

He was a free man.

As their new reality dawned on them, a small laugh escaped him. 

She followed suit, a grin forming on her stained lips as joy reached the pit of her stomach.

On a high, she ran to him, and he caught her in his arms, embracing her figure tightly against his chest.

“You did it.”

He whispered against her hair before crashing into her lips for a fervent kiss. With his arms curled around her, he had lifted her from the ground. 

She squealed, taken by surprise. A light giggle had escaped the back of her throat from excitement. 

Her feet touched the ground again, though they hadn’t let go of each other yet with their lips still tangled, heated. 

Just a few more seconds of bliss.

“Let’s get out of here.” She spoke, breathless. 

He smiled, a beam so bright, biting at her bottom lip before pressing his lips again against hers, and then pulling away.

The last thing he felt was the touch of her hands in his as she stepped back to clean up the mess around them.

He felt a sudden stiffness in his neck. He rolled his head around to dissuade the discomfort until he became lightheaded, the vision in front of him blurring.

It was almost blinding him when he heard Becca call for him, his name turned into a question.

He shut his eyes tight, trying to get a hold of himself when he felt a wet trail running down his nose.

He felt his muscles grow weaker, as if they were depleting.

When opening his eyes, he met a distorted horrified look on Becca’s face.

He tried reaching for her but couldn’t feel his body move until the weight of it dragged him down.

“Finan!”

She caught him as they both fell to the ground. She called him over and over again, trying to reach his consciousness.

He couldn’t speak, his voice - gone. 

But his perishing sight was set on her, his ears aching at the pain; she was yelling, screaming at the top of her burning lungs with tears furiously streaming down her cheeks.

“Bex?”

She looked down at him, frowning, her chest heaving. Her hand caressed his face but could not see her name coming from his lips.

“Bex, love?” 

His voice stood as clear as the night sky above them.

She lifted her head up and saw him standing in front of her, confused. “What happened?”

She bit her tongue.

She then got up to her feet, her body trembling.

“Y-you di-”

How could she finish her sentence? The weight of the word stood heavy on her heart, unable to ring it out into the world. 

It held such destruction, a wrecking ball destroying everything around them.

The look in his eyes was enough for her to know he understood.

He shattered, his heart breaking into pieces.

A sob caught in her throat. “I-I’m so sorry- This wasn’t supposed to h-appen.”

Denial, hefty in its wake, she fell to the ground again, her mind working a resurrection spell - anything to bring him back.

But of course, it wouldn’t work.

She reached for her amulet but clutched at the ghost of it when she saw the stone on the floor.

Bewildered, eyes wide, she lost her breath as she whispered under the last of it. “What did I just do…”

She was powerless, and so, she was unable to save him.

“It’s okay…” There was no harshness in his tone. “We’ll be okay, love.” He needed her to believe it, his new reality squeezing itself between them.

She snapped, looking back up to him.

“No, it’s not okay! We need more time- I needed more time w- with you.” The lump in her throat was lodged tightly, invoked.

He approached her, hand to her cheek in a soft caress, ignoring the empty sensation. “Ya are an incredible woman.”

She scoffed, angry.

“Not enough to make you live out this lifetime.” Tears trailed her cheeks again, quivering from anguish. She leaned into his attempted touch, trying to feel his warmth. She hesitantly met his gaze - his hues still managed to give her such love, she could feel herself crumble from inadequacy. Undeserving. “We were doomed from the start, weren’t we?”

The disillusion of it all was killing her on the spot, torturing her.

“Finn-” 

Words evaded her, sentiments unable to speak out.

“I know.” 

He wasn’t angry, nor was he furious.

He simply mourned; sorrow reached the deepest parts of himself, from the marrow to the surface.

She collected herself - or at least, she tried. She wiped her tears, not able to look at him anymore, ashamed of her failure, and backed away to stand up again.

“You’re free now… You can find peace.”

He swallowed heavily. “Is it really peace without you?”

Eyes shut tight, she was silently crying again.

The thickness of melancholy wore her like a coat, suffocating her in this unruly heat.

He reached for her again, desperate to touch her and comfort her, to wipe her tears away.

He found he wasn’t able to feel her.

Nor could she.

He tried again, his hand trailing down to her stomach as he leaned against her, attempting to feel her breath against his lips, any sign of movement at all.

It was faint, almost undetectable. 

Unfocused, he wouldn’t have felt it.

“Finan, I-I love you.”

Shaky, destroyed, broken.

The wind was knocked out of her, completely gutted. 

“I love you too.” It was a mere whisper, loving and inconsolable in its undertone. 

And then, he was gone.

His ghostly presence vanishing as if, for all the cruelty in the world, he was never here at all.

She held onto herself, the best she could, but found no strength.

She collapsed on the ground, head resting atop his lifeless body as her cries shook the waves of reality.

       The next week was a blur. 

She was a corpse walking amongst the living, an icy dread in the middle of the warmth of budding summer.

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit rash?” 

Her brother was by her side, his eyes reading the engraved tombstone; it was the day of the funeral, and they were three.

The sun was at its peak, ignoring the welting sorrow that beat down on Becca.

She stood in her family plot, gifting Finan his final resting place. 

Marcus spoke without looking at his sister. He couldn’t comprehend the latest decisions she had been making. “Quitting your job, leaving the city, and moving here? There is nothing here.”

“He’s here.”

He finally turned his head to her, and she never wavered, her sight focused still on the stone in front of her. “Becca.” He grieved for her, saddened by the drastic turn of events that broke his sister.

She said nothing more, so he quietened down, his sight returning to the headstone, in prayer. 

The words etched across the grave were simple, each without true meaning when read separately. Only once meshed together did they hold such sorrow, such grief for the widower, the abandoned lover.

She dropped her head, unable to hold on any longer. “I don’t think I can do this without him.”

Hand on her shoulder, she looked to her right just far enough to see his caring touch. He spoke up with an ache; he was hurt to see her like this. “You’re not alone.”

She ignored his remark, her teeth clenching from past anger trying to crawl its way back. She breathed in deeply, calming herself, and fell back into her torment. “Without him, I am.” She still hated herself for having created such deception, enraged at herself for having failed so immensely. “I scarified my powers for him and… it was all for nothing.”

Her brother hoped his words would bring her comfort. “Your family are still witches.” She turned her head to him, wondering over the meaning behind his words. “Your brother still is. Anything you need, magical or not, we’re here for you.”

She pushed his hand away from her. “Why was I so stubborn?” All the fights and arguments were haunting her, left her to wonder if she had been that blind to believe she would succeed without consequence. “I-I should’ve listened to him. To you, a-and everyone-”

“Don’t.” He stopped her, reaching for her hand and gently pulling her his way. “Don’t do this to yourself.” He forced her to look at him, to meet his gaze as he spoke with solace. “You gave him what he needed. Be thankful it worked.”

“But he didn’t need to die.” Tears brimmed over her eyes; it was the first time she had spoken that word, the dreaded destructive letters clouding her. “That was not part of-”

He interrupted her, as she needed to understand it wasn’t her failure. “The gods can be cruel.”

She shook her head in disagreement. “It wasn’t them.” She ran her fingers through her hair before they settled on her chest. “It was her. That damn bitch-” She bit on her tongue; rage born like embers in a fire pit. “She won.”

Marcus pulled her against him, hugging his sister tightly as she broke down. She was clutching onto the gold cross, the Celtic knots imprinting in the wounded palm of her hand.

She was a powerless woman, no longer a witch. 

She lost everything in the fire. 

She cursed herself for what she had caused, for having been tricked and for having failed him. 

Thora had won, and there was nothing to be done to reverse it.

       Six months had passed since then.

Bamburgh was grey and dark, the clouds gathering as they prepared to cry over the townspeople. 

Becca couldn’t care. 

She had been staring at the tombstone, Finan’s name stretched across it.

She hadn’t recovered and she knew she never would. 

She mourned the loss with such gravity, life blooming in front of her became a cruel joke.

Standing in front of his grave, her body yelled for her to sit; her feet were sore and swelled as the weight of her womb grew heavy. 

Their child was restless, tired and hungry. How could he know, though, what his mother was going through? That she had forgotten him, for a mere second, to mourn the loss of his father? 

She looked down, bringing her hands to rest over her pregnant stomach, to calm the boy. 

She knew it was time to go and yet, she couldn’t move.

And the breeze changed direction, as if it was running away from something.

“Good riddance, I say.” 

Becca didn’t need to look to know who stood next to her.

“Thora.”

“Niece.”

The sound of her voice already irritated the young woman; it was by undoing the curse that Thora came back to haunt the earth.

A warning she never saw coming.

“What do you want?”

The red-haired woman stood tall, arched brow and staring at the cursed man’s grave. “You took something of mine.”

Becca still didn’t turn to her, trying to control her rage. “He was never yours.”

Thora scoffed, unrelenting. “Maybe not, but that child-” She never finished her sentence, a strong pressure suddenly gripping at her.

Her niece violently turned her head to her, almost hurting her neck in the process. Anger seethed through her entire being. “Don’t you dare threaten my son. Do whatever the hell you want, but you leave me and my child out of it.” She had been grasping onto Thora’s wrist so tightly, inflicting such pain, she could break the bones like a twig. “You’ve done enough damage.” The elder tried not to look too shocked at the sudden act, remaining composed the best way she knew how. “Now get out of here and leave us be.”

At Becca’s last words, the gods had spoken; the sky rumbled, ready for battle against each other. The mischievous and chaotic Loki against Freya, protector of witches and goddess of love. 

Thora let go, shaking her arm away from her niece, a smirk underlined across her face. 

“I’ll see you in a hundred years, then?”

Becca sneered. “No, you won’t.” And she knew she wouldn’t. Not because Thora would live that long, but because the hex had been destroyed the night of the ritual.

It was foreseeing her future that made the elder witch decide to tether herself to the curse she created. 

It was because she knew one of her own would one day break it that she let it happen. 

Abiding time, and waiting patiently, until six months ago.

Thunder struck the skies, rumbling the earth in anger. The witch cheated death, and she would not go unpunished. 

Becca stood her ground as she watched her elder walk away, a smirk of conquest painted across the witche’s dry lips.

The widow was tricked - to be believed that the warning she had seen was telling her the curse would hit her in retaliation, as it had no way to die. The pushback from her family came from knowing the truth - that their ancestor would come back from the dead.

The subtle kicks inside her brought her back to her grief. She was due any day now, and her heart broke at the thought of going through childbirth without Finan by her side, of going through the rest of their son’s life without his father.

She held onto her stomach again, rubbing away the ache caused by the baby’s movements. 

She teared up, whispering her goodbye for now, and reluctantly walked away just as the rain started to mist over the village.

The words floated through the cold air, their echo hopeful in its distance. 

“I’ll see you on the Other side, my love…”

---------------------

a/n: for those who are familiar with The Originals, the knot is a reference to the Sanguinis Knot :)

xoxo,

@gemini-mama, @fangirlninja67

[maii777]

Effect

( modern!sihtric x reader )

summary: visiting a party with your boyfriend Sihtric ends with a dramatic event that has a effect on both of you.

warnings: alcohol, fight, blood, sexual content (+18)

word count: 2,2K

🫧🐺

Every month Uhtred was hosting the biggest party known. Everyone knew there is always happening something off, a fight, a break up or just drunken people laying everywhere.

You didn’t attempt to those party’s before with your girls, you where more the friend group type to go to the cinema or make a movie night with snacks and tee.

But as Sihtrics girlfriend you knew the day would come that you go there.

So you stand in front of the mirror finishing your look with some fake lashes. As you look at yourself you feel so sexy, your dress being short with no straps holding it and a slit that mostly shows your hip completely. You feel very much wearing less clothes then you have on.

It excites you to think about your boyfriends face when he sees you, teasing him with that dress.

You feel your cheeks burning up at that thought, rolling your eyes and taking a breath in to come back to reality.

As you look at your phone, seeing messages from your girl group chat about how sad they are that they couldn’t join you tonight, it knocks on your door.

You open the door and see Sihtric leaning in the doorway.

„Your escort service is here, lady“ he says with a cocky smile. And you stare him up and down. His tattoo showing from neck to the side of his head, his hair is braided and his beautiful miss matched eyes always making your knees weak. Wearing a black shirt, his sleeves are rolled up, the buttons are opened at the top reviling his chest and his mjölnir hanging from his neck underneath his shirt.

You both match together in completely black, looking like some hot mafia couple.

You are ready to go waiting for him to make room for you. But he is completely staring at your dress, that reveals almost your ass cheek.

„You can’t go out like that“ he says with worry

„Why? Your with me the hole night“ you says smiling at his actions, knowing your plan worked.

„yeah but people will stare at your body.. it is only for my eyes“ he says putting his hands on your hip, pulling you close. His cologne hits your nose, loving the scent of it. You put your hands on his chest looking up to him „I’m all yours babe“ and his lips meets yours with a loving and sloppy kiss, he taste like cigarettes and mint. You holding his shirt thigh moaning into his mouth as his big hands move down to your ass, giving you a spank that makes you squirm, his lips forming a pleased smile at your reaction . Kissing your lips again, he looks deep into your eyes.

„Okay, let's go otherwise we won't be able to get out of here“ you nood at him, closing your door and taking his hand into yours as you both exit the building.

Arriving at the house it already look completely packed, loud music and colorful lights coming from the building.

In front of the door Sihtric halts „after you my lady“

You smile at him shy, your hands grabbing back at him to find his hands again, he holds you hand and his other ghosting over your hip.

You go through the entrance hall searching for Osferth or Finan in the big living room. The people make all room for you, seeing Sihtric behind your back.

Then you see Osferth waving to you standing next to Uhtred and Finan in the kitchen. You go over to them greeting them. Sihtric leaving your touch, hugging his friends.

„The party is amazing, are you not worried that something will break?“ you ask Uhtred and he just laughs „they already broke everything important, so I don’t care anymore“ he says laughing. Finan gives you all a shot „Sihtric I am so happy you are finally here with your better half, I hope that will give you some control to not drink to much you can’t even handle“ and the boys all laugh before downing the shot.

The sharp taste when it runs down your throat making you burn as you scrunch your face .

Sihtric talks with Uhtred for a while, watching you drinking with Finan and Osferth. You play some drinking game and some other people joining you.

The time flys and you feel getting tipsy, laughing at every toast Finan says and Osferth already pouring in the next drink.

Sihtric hugs you from behind, looking at the drinking circle you three made.

„I think you need some water, babe“ and you nood.

He loves taking care of you. When he gives you water, you drink it out immediately.

„Can we go dance?“ you say turning your head back to Sihtric, you feel his grip getting harder.

He doesn’t like the idea of you dancing in that dress in the middle of the room.

„You know I don’t like to dance, sweetheart“ he says sounding sorry.

Osferth mentioning that he doesn’t feel so good, also looking a bit pale.

Finan claps at the back of Osferth „We can dance that will sober you up“ laughing at Osferth.

Sihtric trust his friends more than anything so he nods „then go dance with them, I will watch you sweetheart“ he says giving you a kiss on the head.

You take the two boys with you to the middle of the room, Finan shows you some funny dance moves he has and Osferth just existing, dragging his body some way to the music.

You feel yourself so loosen, moving your hips to the music with your eyes closed, feeling amazing.

You don’t notice that every other guy is looking at you, Sihtric of course noticed that the whole night.

He clenches his hand on the beer can, not really listening to the guy next to him . His anger growing at the guys looking at your body, but he doesn’t want to stop you of having fun.

He tries controlling his anger and you know that. You had seen Sihtric losing control over his anger before, when a guy cat called you on the street ending up giving that guy a good night punch.

For a moment you open your eyes, seeing Sihtric standing trying to hold together.

You both lock eyes and you feel aroused him looking at you like that, like your his and he is yours.

And then you see Osferth and Finan both next to Sihtric. Osferth pulling Sihtric after him, he just looks back at you, not wanting to leave you alone with drunken people.

You wonder what happened, remembering Osferth felt sick before from the liquor.

As you feel someone tapping at your shoulder and you turn. When the cat is gone the mice come out.

You look confused to the guy in front of you, tall and short hair that is braided, wearing a black shirt.

„hey are you alone here?“ he says smiling down at you.

You just look at him not giving any type of communication and you turn around and leave him.

You press yourself trough the crowd of people and you notice that he yells after you

„hey mysterious girl“

At the front door you turn and he nearly bumps into you at your sudden halt.

„What do you want“ you say with not expression, kinda pissed of that he didn’t get the hint.

„I want to get to know you“ he says smiling and he rubs his neck with one hand.

„I have a boyfriend“

„and? I think that isn’t a excuse“

You roll your eyes and get out of the house, the fresh air sobbers you up almost completely.

In front of the house in the grass the guy grabs your arm

„hey wait can’t I really get your number?“

You try to tear your arm out of his grip, when you hear a familiar voice.

„Hey stop touching my girl“ and Sihtric stand in front of you blocking the guy from you.

„Oh so she didn’t lie..“ the guy says letting go of your arm immediately and shrunken in front of your boyfriend.

„Why the fuck would she lie“ Sihtric yells at him, you notice that he snaps at that.

„I don’t know man, girls are like that“

And you don’t know what is going on in Sihtrics head but all he sees red. All that night the guys looking at you and controlling his anger but this was his last push. You take a step back.

Without a warning Sihtric punches the guy in the face, his nose bleeding. You stand there holding your hand in front of your mouth, when everything happens so fast.

Sihtric told you to take distance before so you do, always.

Sihtric continues punching him, Finan coming from out of nowhere getting Sihtric off that guy.

Osferth now looking better than before calming Sihtric down, but Sihtric only watches your reaction. His huge rough hands are covered in blood.

You take his hand and you feel he gets more calm.

After that Finan drops you of at your apartment with Sihtric. You both walk up in silence, he holds your hand thigh, not looking at you the hole time.

When you open the door you let him in first.

Your apartment seems smaller when he is here. He sits at your couch that also seems tiny now.

„ I clean you“ you say looking in your bathroom for some medical stuff.

You stand in front of him taking his hands, cleaning them. He feels burning hot. You wipe his face and then go down to his chest where are also tiny splatters of blood.

He looks up at you, his hands on the side of your ass. He looks so innocent and you feel it clenching between your legs.

His hand goes under the slide of your dress, his hand taking your bare ass cheek, massaging the flesh.

You point his chin up and looking down at him

„You know that was hella hot what you did for me“

He breath out sharply smirking „You know I would do anything for you“ he says with a hoarse voice, looking up into your eyes.

He immediately stands up capturing your lips in a hastily kiss.

You put your arms around his neck as his hands go under your ass pulling you up, your legs hugging around his body perfectly, holding you thigh to his body.

You both exchange messy kisses as he carries you to your bed and puts you down.

You unbutton his shirt hurriedly as he rapidly pulls your dress off. You lay there in only your underwear. His mouth wanders down from your mouth to your neck bitting and sucking on your skin as his hands knead your breasts. moans escape your mouth as he leaves marks on your skin.

He growls at you when his fingers feel the wetness between your legs. He pulls your underwear off and throws them somewhere in your room.

He kisses a trail down your body. As he puts your legs onto his shoulders, to keep you in position.

He kisses your inner thigh „All this just for me“ he says as his tongue licks in between your folds. You exhale sharply as he fucks you with his tongue, soft moans escaping your mouth . Like a man starved he eats you out, his nose is perfectly centered at your clit. You moans get louder as you feel your first orgasm rolling in.

You hand taking his hair, pulling harshly and moaning his name, that makes him growl between your legs. You see your vision go blurry and a loud cry escape your lips as your scream his name.

He comes up to you cupping your cheek and kissing your lips lustfull, you taste your own arousels on his tongue.

Your hands opening his belt and he pulls his trousers and underwear off as you catch your breath.

„I am not done with you babe“ he says smirking and you fall over him, kissing his lips hastily.

Your on top of him and feel his huge dick throbbing against your center.

„Now it’s your turn, getting taken care off“ you say smirking as you hold yourself steady on his chest as you directing his hard huge cock in your entrance. You both moan looking in his miss matched eyes while you slide down his huge length.

As you start riding him he puts his hands on your hips, helping you. The only sound in the room is your moans and the slapping sound of your two body’s.

As you feel your second peek coming in you look into his eyes, you both don’t break the eye contact. You slap him in the face as you ride him harder and you see how his jaw tightens.

„slap me again“ he says as you slap him harder. He starts whimpering and you slap him each time harder, you feel how this drives him wild. His hands lacing over your ass and you whine at the pain.

He starts moving his hips more to your motion and slaps your ass harshly. You moan his name as you reach your climax. Your walls tighten around his huge length making him come. You looking each other into the eyes as you finish both.

You collide onto him. He hugs your body and kisses your head as you both take your breath.

After a few minutes you stand up from him going over to your bathroom door, looking over your shoulder „want to take a shower?“ with a innocent smile.

And Sihtric immediately stand up following you under the shower.

——————

Authors note:

That was my first fan fiction and I hope you liked it! I would really appreciate some feedback.

Thanks for reading :D

[finanmoghra]

Charming Irishman

pairing modern!Finan x reader

summary an irish pub opens in front of your flower shop, and you can't resist that charming irish who owns it.

warnings smut, finan in general

word count 4.1k

gif credit

a/n guys english isn't my first language and i've never wrote smut in eng, so forgive me for any mistakes, i tried my best. also i suck with small talk so maybe things will happen "fast"

-

It's a typical thursday at Winchester, you are heading your way to your flower shop as you always do in the mornings. That street is so habitual to you by now, the tiny coffee shop, the record store, the stationery shop, and oh, that irish pub of course. That place used to be a lot of stuff until 4 months ago when some men bought the place and open an irish pub right in front of your shop. You don't talk like it's an annoyance, everythings is quiet as usual for a pub during the day, but you're not so sure about the night.

The thing is, a month or two ago, a dark-haired man walked into your shop, with a smirk on his face, you have seen him around, principally that smirk, you noticed that he worked at the pub but when you first heard his voice with the strong accent you assumed that he was the owner. At the first time, he asked for your help to buy some flowers for his sister, whose were moving back to the town, he explained in an attempt to start a conversation, you suggested him pink roses and while you prepare the bouquet, he introduced himself as Finan, and as you assumed, the pub owner. You had a samll talk before he left.

Two weeks after that, Finan started coming over every week, usually on thursday, like today, and you always have his order almost ready by the time he shows up. You two got along very easily, he was all flirty over you, politely, however. You started to have longer conversations as the weeks passed by and was in one of those that he explained why the same order every week. His mother was struggling with some problems and when he showep up at the family dinner with flowers for his sister, he noticed that she got a bit emotional, so now he takes 'em every week to cheer her up. You couldn't resist thinking he's such a sweet guy after that, even though you try not to give attention to his flirts, you can't deny that you enjoy his company, he has been saving you from boredom and entertaining you on monotonous days, as he casually shows up on days other than thursdays.

The hours fly by and when you realise, you're hearing the front door bell ringing and a familiar figure walk in.

— Hi Finan, it's been a time since I've seen you. — you say with a little smile on your face.

— Hey Y/N! Did ya miss me? — you could tell that damn smirk was on his face even if you weren't looking.

— Miss your jerk face? Never. — yes, you did miss him.

— I'm gonna take it as a compliment. — he winked at you — Sorry about my absence, it's been a busy week.

— St. Patrick's Day, I presume.

— Yeah, we have some weeks until then, but as an irish, I have to make a proper celebration, ya know. — he tapped his fingers at the counter while looking at you — And talking about pub stuff, ya should come for the happy hour tomorrow.

As consistent as his visits on thursday, it is his invitations.

— I'm gonna think about it. — you say as you finish the bouquet, you won't admmit but you always leave some things to do when he arrives so you have more time to enjoy his company.

— C'mon, ya always say that! Ya have to meet the pub and the boys wants to know ya better!

The boys whose Finan is talking about are, Sihtric and Osferth, who both work with him, and Uhtred, they're Finan's best friends who he is always talking about. You kinda know them from seeing around but never really talked to them.

And, he's right. You always says the same thing, but in your defense it's been a bit hard to resist all these flirts, and you fear getting closer to him and ending up with a broken heart. You're sure he's a sweet, kind and cool guy, but also he seems to be quite womanising as well.

— I swear I'm going to think about it. — a smile grew up on your face as you realise he got puppy eyes

— Really? — he asks.

— Really! — you roll your eyes although you're smiling to him.

You two got engaged into a conversation and don't even see the time passing.

— Damn it! I'm really late, I have to go now. — he says after having a look on his watch.

You were ready to say something when he gets close and pecked you in your cheek. — Bye, lady. — he says as he walk away.

You could feel your cheeks getting warm and you froze but managed to say something before he leaves.

— You may see me tomorrow.

He didn't say anything but you know he was wearing that smirk.

-

Finan's visit at your store is not the only constance in your thursdays, actually you reunite with your former roommate and best friend, Ealswith, at thursday's nights. You two meet when you were both on college and had started living together after some time, it's been a while since you two live separetely, but you two still really closer, thankfully to the girls' night.

You two were really enjoying the night while having some wine and snacks, listening to music and soon that topic came up.

— He came over today, as usual, invited me to go to the pub tomorrow, I said I was going to think.

— As usual. — Ealswith mumbles.

— Stop it. — you smack her arm — And he kissed me before leaving. At the cheek! — I say before she get too excited.

— C'mon! You should go, really. You can no more act like you don't like him, it's so obvious.

— I cannot go! You know it.

— I know what? By the way you tell me, he's into you! And he wants to know you better out of your workspace.

You start to argument but Ealswith cuts you. — Don't say you afraid! You need to stop assuming things, maybe he's all flirty because he likes you.

— I- argh.. — you hide your face in your hands, you know she's right.

— Hey, hey! Look at me. Tomorrow you will close the shop, go to your home and I will meet you there to help you get ready, I'm going with you so if anything goes wrong or you don't feel well, we go home, right?

— Don't you think he's gonna find it, I don't know, weird to bring someone?

— I'm pretty sure he will understand you not going alone, and hey, maybe you can set me up with one of his friends. — she winks at you and you both start laughing.

— Okay, alright then.

-

So as planned, Ealswith showed up at your house to help you get ready as you were too nervous, it took a while but you could finally decided what to wear. It was nearly 6 p.m when you asked for a cab and it didn't take too long to arrive so in a few minutes you were at the pub.

You could feel your hand a bit shaky before walk in, but Ealswith noticed and hold it 'til you calm down.

You entered the pub and looked for that familiar figure, you couldn't find him but you managed to find Osferth, who waved at you and called Finan's attention to you.

— Hey Y/N! Are ya really here? — he greets you, laughing a bit

— I told you would maybe see me today!

— Don't blame me for being surprised. — You rolled your eyes at his answer, still smiling. — Ya brought a friend, hi!

You intruduce her to Finan and after that he takes both of you to their table, and properly presents you to the boys.

— What do ya ladies would like to drink? — he asks as we are all settled down.

— Just a pint, it's good. Right? — you turns to Ealswith and she nodded.

— One more round then! — he says to the waiter close to our table.

— It's good to finally meet you, Y/N! If you didn't work here in front I would think that Finan made you up. — Sihtric says and makes Uhtred and Osferth laughs and Finan roll his eyes.

— Yeah, it's nice to have an opportunity to see if everything Finan says about you, it's true. — Uhtred takes part.

You can ser Finan's cheeks a little bit red and you smile at this. — Well, I hope he have only said good things about me. — you answer kinda shy yet.

— Trust me, not a single bad thing. — Uhtred says.

— Except from you never accepting his invitations. — Osferth says and Finan smack his arm. Poor boy.

— It's good for you all to meet Y/N, and it's good for me to finally see the face of the mainly topic of our talks. — Ealswith says and you can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as it get warm up.

— Hope you've heard of us too. — Sihtric winks at her.

-

Anyone who passed by your table would think you were all friends for years, you got along easily and the night was being so fun, you were really enjoying their company.

After some time, you and Ealswith excused yourselves and headed the way to the toilet.

— God! He's so into you, more than I've thought. — she exclaimed at the moment you were out of their sight.

— Do you think? — yeah, you noticed how he looked at you since you arrived, but you didn't want to assume something.

— You know I say this because I love you, but stop being a fool! He fell down for you, I can say it for sure by what his friends said.

You couldn't argument with her, the signs were there and you have to admit that this is all you have wished for.

On the way back to the table you told her to go ahead and you were just back her. You stopped at the bar and asked for water, and while waiting you felt someone approach, you prepare to deal with a drunk guy who's trying to get along with some woman, but actually you feel chills when you heard that voice.

— May I say ya look stunning tonight?

— I would appreciate it, yeah. — you smile as you turn to him. You may be dreaming about that voice and smirk for days long.

— It's everything alright? — Finan asks.

— Yeah, just needed a bit of water before going back. — the bartender hands you a glass of water and you thanks him.

— So, what ya think? — he points to the place.

— You did a good job here, it's a nice place for sure.

— I'm not even going to ask about my friends 'cause this is something for Ealswith to answer. — we both shared a laugh.

— She and Sihtric got along very well, I see.

— Don't blame her, he can be very persuasive.

— So does she.

You two spent some time talking alone, just sharing things and getting more closer to each other.

When you two decided to go back to the group table they were all laughing of something.

— What's happening? — Finan asks as he pull a chair for you on his side.

— We were just telling Ealswith about one day after we started here and you crossed the streets so many times trying to get a reason to go to Y/N's shop. — Sihtric answers, still laughing.

— We're surprised you didn't notice him, Y/N! — Osferth says. — Otherwise I think you'd be scared of him.

— Good I didn't notice though. — I reply laughing at Finan.

— Alright, alright, stop talking about me.

You got a bit lost at the conversation when he stretched his arm across your chair and you could feel his fingers running through your undressed shoulder.

-

It was nearly midnight when you and Ealswith decided to go home. You said goodbye to the boys, saying it was nice to meet them and on the way out, Finan decided to go along with you.

You were at the pub entrance waiting for the cab Ealswith asked for, you could feel Finan catching your hand into his, he pulled you closer to say:

— It was a good night.

— Yeah, it was. — you said with a low voice just for him to hear.

— Hope we can repeat it, or maybe just the two of us. — he winked at you.

— I would like that, for sure.

You two were getting really closer when Ealswith call you out. — Y/N! It's here.

— See you thursday. — you smile at him, you walked away but turned back when remember something. — I almost forget it. — you handle him your shop card, but at the back you've written your personal number.

He catched it and you didn't think so much before approaching just to peck him in the lips for a few seconds before leaving.

— This woman will drive me crazy. — he speaks to himself when you've already leave.

-

Another week just started, you spent your weekend betwen spending some time with your friends trying to keeping up with everyone's lives and chatting with Finan. The last part taking over your weekend.

Things were getting a little bit more serious since you kissed him goodbye on friday and you allowed yourself to be open to a possible romance. Finan's flirty personality stayed the same, he would do it at any chance it was given to him, and you like it, it's good to feel that somebody wants you.

You were talking to your friend, Aethelflaed, on the phone about Finan and you jumped when you heard the sound of the door bell thinking that could be him but you turned around and saw a boy with curly hair into your shop.

— Morning! How can I help you?

— I'm Aethelstan, I'm here for the assistant job, we've talked on the phone. — the boy says, a bit shy.

— Oh, right, Aethelstan! I'm sorry I was a bit distracted. — you shake hands with him. —You've mentioned you are studying biology, am I correct?

— Yes, you are.

— So I think the flower stuff is gonna be easy, I just need to show you some other things and then you can have your first day here, and at the end of the day we discuss if everything is going alright.

-

The kid learnt the things pretty well, that was good because it's been a busy day so far.

You were checking some things at the computer when you saw a familiar figure at the other side of the street, he had just arrived, it seemed.

— Aethelstan, I'm going out quickly, pay attention if someone comes in. — you say a bit loud as the kid was at the back of the store.

You crossed the street before he get into the pub. — Finan,hey! — you call his attention.

—Y/N, hi! — he comes closer to hug you quickly.

— I just wanted to ask what are the plans for St. Patrick's day?

— So ya're planning to come?

— Only if it's seems cool enough. — you give him a smirk

— I won't say more than this, but if ya come ya gonna experience the best party of your life.

— I don't know if I believe, but I'll give you try.

— You should bring Ealswith! — you jumped when you heard Sihtric, he showed up from nowhere. — I'm sorry I have to steal your man but we got work to do.

You felt the warm on your cheeks after he called Finan "your man", but you didn't say anything, actually you liked it.

— See ya later! — you hear Finan says before being dragged by Sihtric. You blowed him a kiss before he entered the pub and then you went back to your store.

-

It seemed that an eternity have passed before friday arrives. It was a busy week and you barely saw him, even on thursday, he came but was in a hurry.

It was a good week, although. Aethelstan really helped you, you just found out that he and Finan are neighbors, they both live at the same building. The poor boy had to listen you talking about Finan a lot during that week, especially when Ealswith and Aethelflaed came.

You were actually doing nothing but counting the hours for you to go home, and Aethelstan noticed it.

— You know you can go home and let me finish stuff here, I can close the store.

— Are you sure of this?

— Yeah, it's not a big deal, you can trust me.

He was right, it was not a big deal.

— Okay then, thanks Aethelstan! See you monday.

It didn't take long for you to arrive at home, of course you had decided your outfit during the week, you were only waiting for Aethelflaed and Ealswith to come so you could get ready. Once the girls arrived and you all got ready, your home was a mess after this, you took a cab to the pub.

The pub was more crowded than usual, you notice that once you arrived, but it wasn't hard to find Finan as he and his friends were at the same place as the last week. You greeted everyone before getting a seat at his side, you introduced Aethelflaed to them and also met Uhtred's fiancé, Gisela, she was a kind woman, you hope you get more chances to hang out with her.

The night was going really well, you and the girls have danced a lot, you ordered too many green drinks, that you weren't sure of what it was, you were all having fun, there wasn't a moment when someone wasn't laughing. You felt really happy between them all, it was good feelings that you have made new friendships like them.

-

Things went a little wild when Finan intercepted you on your way back from the toilet and took you to his office upstairs. He closed the door behind you, his arms now rounding you.

— Oi! Calm down, my dear. — you said, not knowing exactly how to deal with him so close to you.

— I cannot, not when ya are out there being so beautiful, I can't stay away from ya anymore. — you feel chills when his hands squeeze your waist, pulling you closer to him

— You don't need to. — you gave him a smirk, but it didn't last too long as he got even more closer and catched your lips in his.

You felt breathless, it was even better than you thought, his lips were soft but rough over yours. His hands sliding down on your hips, it was a sign that things were getting hotter. When both of you were running out of breath, you could feel him break the kiss but leading the way of his lips to your neck. You gasped with the sensation, he sucked that point behind your ear.

You could feel his hardness against his trousers as he grabbed your arse, you started to feel the need to get rid of your clothes and when you took your hands to Finan's shirt he took a step back. You didn't understand why he would do that.

— Look, I really want ya, but I'm not doing in the right way. — he could see your confusion. — I didn't plan for this to happen here, so what ya think about going home with me, uh?

— I don't want to look desperate, but please, take me home. — you kissed him before you two settled down and go downstairs. You found Aethelflaed on the way and told her where you were going before leave.

The way on the cab was.. something. His hands running through your thighs all the way to his home, you were glad it was close. As soon as you entered at his flat, he pinned you on the door, kissing you hunger than before. He picked you up, your thighs now almost undressed under his touch as he leads you to his bedroom.

— Ya have no idea how many times I've thought about ya, about your lips against mine. Ya are such a dream, Y/N. — he says as he laid you on his bed, making sure to touch every inch of your body.

You pulled him closer enough to whisper on his ear. — And you have no idea of how many nights I dreamed about you touching me like this.

He kissed you hard, hands undoing the zipper of your dress and soon you were only wearing a black lace matching underwear. The look he gave you made you feel like you were burning inside.

— It isn't fair that you are all dressed yet. — you said running your fingers through his, still dressed, chest.

— This won't be a problem anymore. — he smirked at you as he started to unbutton his shirt. It didn't take so long until both of you were only on your underwear, you not so much as he took your bra off, sucking on your breasts, before going down on your body, starting to run his mouth on your inner thigh while playing with the laces on your panties before taking off.

You let a moan out when his lips pressed on your sweet spot, he went dived onto you, sucking on your clit, making you feel like you were in heaven.

— Finan, please, more! — you groaned when you felt his finger rounding you before enter you. You couldn't control your moans, praising him as his fingers curved inside you, hitting that spot. You couldn't contain your hands from pulling his hair when you came on his mouth.

You only had time to take a deep breath before Finan was all over you, kissing you breathless, your taste on his tongue. He parted the kiss, smiling at you as he brushes your hair off your face.

— Are ya ok? For another one?

— More than ok! — you answer laughing.

He took a condom from his trausers, rolling on and soon he was back over you. He kissed you as he was slowly entering you, and both of you were groaning loudly. His name leaving in between your lips like you were praising him, the sound of your hips colliding getting louder as he slammed into you. He was relentless, hard and fast on you, your nails scrapping his back, your thighs gripped his hips making he going deeper.

— Fuck, Finan! — you groaned loudly

He flipped you, now you were on top so you started riding him, rolling your hips over his causing to hit your spot. He grabbed your arse and you layed down over him, meeting his lips again, going up and down on him, now with his hands controlling the rhythm. You felt you were close so you started moving faster, soon you were clenching around him, moaning his name as he came right after you.

He slowly pulled out of you, and you fell at his side, breathless.

— That was... I don't even know. — you say between breaths, laughing with him.

— I'll be right back. — he kissed you on your cheeks before getting up, he pick up his boxer and then disappear into some door. He came back with a towel on his hands and get on the bed again. — Now let me take care of ya.

You were already sleepy but you smiled at this.

After he clean both of you, he pulled you so you could lay on his chest, his arms holding you close and all you could do was relax.

— Ya're too good to be true, mo grá. — he left a kiss on your forehead before fall asleep with you.

[halfmylife]

Sorry I’m Late

Pairing Modern!Finan x Reader

Summary You were supposed to be meeting someone for a blind date however but after about an hour you realise you’ve been stood up. That is until a certain stranger comes to save your night.

Warnings None

A/N This is based on a writing prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting except I decided to make it Modern!TLK because the idea was too cute!

You had been excited for your date, which was unusual. Typically you’d always shove the idea of dating far away from you, especially when your friends had pushed men your way. Yet tonight was different. Your friend had insisted that this guy was perfect for you. And for whatever reason, you agreed to a blind date. You really had been excited.

About an hour ago.

As time passed you found yourself feeling more and more defeated. The date hadn’t shown, or even bothered to message, so you assumed he might still turn up. You’d enthused to the waitress how excited you were when you first arrived but every ten minutes she’d look over and give you a sad look. Hardly the evening you were expecting at all.

You’d had maybe two glasses of wine. One for nerves. The other to pass the time. That was more than you had intended to drink the whole night. The waitress had even been kind enough to bring over some complimentary food for you to nibble on whilst you waited.

There had been a gentleman at the bar, about half an hour into your waiting. He was handsome enough from your viewpoint, with dark hair and a beard. You were sure you heard him speak with an Irish accent too. You were convinced he might be your date but it seemed less likely.

The pair of you made eye contact a few times and he even smiled, though you knew he wasn’t your date, part of you wanted to approach the bar and spend some time with him. You couldn’t help yourself but try and listen in to his conversation when he ushered over the waitress that had been serving you. Unfortunately you couldn’t make anything out.

You look at your watch. 8:03. You were supposed to meet at 7.

Tonight had not been your night. You were starving but too embarrassed to eat alone. Worst of all, you couldn’t imagine the embarrassment of walking out alone after being sat by yourself for an hour, drinking wine and waiting for no one to turn up. It was your only option.

It was decided. You couldn’t wait around any longer. So after leaving quite a generous tip, you went to grab your back and coat.

“Sorry I’m late!” You half jumped at the voice. The man from the bar stood in front of you, chucking his own coat over the back of the chair as you stared at him in awe. “Let me.” He moved to the side of you, a hand on the back of your chair. Confused, you took a seat once more and let him push you in.

You ignored any looks that were sent your way by the surrounding time, looks of pity you were certain. The only thing you could focus on was the man now sat in front of you. Surely he wasn’t your date. He seemed confident, too confident. Grabbing the menu in front of him, he opened it immediately and leant forward.

“I couldn’t just let ya walk out alone and hungry.” He whispered, giving you a wink.

“You really don’t have to.” You spoke quietly as you titled your head, he was already glancing over the menu figuring out what to eat.

“Do you have any other plans?” The only other plans you had were a date with an awful movie and a tub of ice cream. “Didn’t think so. Don’t let one prick ruin your night.”

“I’ll try not to.” You said with a half smile. Perhaps this night might go in your favour. After all, the man across from you was handsome, annoyingly so.

“Are we getting starters?” His eyebrows were raised as he watched you, anticipating your answer like it would make or break the evening.

“Of course we are.” You shrugged as though it was an obvious choice.

“Ya seem pretty set on that.” He laughed, plopping the menu down, having made his decision regarding food.

“I have been sat here waiting for an hour.” You argued, trying to laugh it off. This had not been the way you had anticipated the evening going but you could not help but revel in the moment.

“You make a fair point.” He raised his hands in defeat, smiling towards you. “Starters it is then.”

After ordering food and another glass of wine, the conversation soon started to flow. Finan had introduced himself and spent the entire evening trying to cheer you up. Truly he didn’t have to do much, the man was far too charismatic for his own good and there was a certain energy to him that just had you melting.

This date couldn’t have gone any better. Especially as he even offered to pay. Sure there had been some arguing but he was far quicker than you were and ended up paying for the whole bill, including the tip.

“You should’ve at least let me split it.” You muttered as you stepped outside, pulling your coat around you. The night was now dark and there was a chill in the air. “As a thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” He wriggled his shoulders into his own coat, walking beside you but leaving very little space. You hadn’t stopped smiling since the pair of you first spoke and even as you were leaving the restaurant you couldn’t help yourself.

“If you hadn’t sat with me, I would’ve probably had a miserable night, drowning my sorrows in ice cream.” You admitted, though you were grateful that hadn’t been your night. In a way you didn’t want it to end.

“Sometimes there’s nothing better than a tub of ice cream.” He shrugged, keeping pace with you. Your shoulders rubbed against one another as you walked down the street, sending a shiver down your spine. “And who’s to say you can’t still do that?”

“After that dinner, I think I’m way too full for anymore.” You laughed. It was true between the pair of you, you had eaten far too much. A whole three courses was a lot but worth every second, though perhaps the choice of outfit now felt a little suffocating.

“I have an idea.” He said suddenly, stopping a little before continuing on. Your expression dropped as you waited for him to continue, wondering what on earth this idea might be. “If you want to thank me, how about a second date? We can even include ice cream.”

“You know the way to a woman’s heart.” ice cream was the least tempting part of that offer. A charming Irishman stood in front of you, one you hadn’t even expected to meet, saved you from an awful night of loneliness and was now asking you on a second date.

“I certainly try.” He cocked his head, flashing you a gorgeous smile. “So how about it?”

“Okay, yeah.” You were sure your face had turned a vibrant shade of red as you felt the heat from your cheeks. “Yeah I’d like that.” He pulled something from his jacket, handing it to you.

“Here’s my number.” It was written on a napkin from the restaurant. You wondered at what point he had decided that he’d give you his number. It didn’t matter you took it all the same. “Message me the moment your home safe and we’ll sort something out.”

“Okay, cool.” If you weren’t blushing before you were certainly blushing now. “I’ll see you soon.” And just like that, your night had been saved.

[xluminaheart]

It irks me that two characters I love in part for their portrayal of being disabled / chronically ill have their conditions consistently erased in fan works because it gets in the way or whatever. I’m not saying it needs to be the focus of every work or even any work but I really wish people would stop pretending it didn’t exist because it is such a big part of their existences

[morosemagick]

Say You'll Remember Me | Finan x OC One Shot

For @emilyhufflepufftlk

The door opens for Sigrid to go next, and as her eyes look up the aisle, the groom looks towards her. Their eyes meet and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach-

because the Groom is marrying someone else.

TAGGED:

@solinarimoon ​ @magravenwrites ​ @lauwrite1225 @93xdiagonxalley @trenko-heart @cibs @blah-blah-blah-bla @lizblogging @gudvina @muddleofnervouswords @medievalfangirl @persephones-journey

[unusual-raccoon]

Modern!Osferth Headcanons

(Plus bonus drabble)

Guess who's rewatching The Last Kingdom for the 63rd time? I'll give you a hint - it's me! Guess who also had the brilliant idea at midnight for a modern babysitter!Osferth x Uhtred idea? Also me.

So, without further adieu, here are some modern!Osferth rambles/headcanons:

Osferth is still devout in his faith. It keeps him sane in a way, it's been a touchstone for most of his life. He's in between jobs and living alone.

He doesn't have much in the way of family. His father got his mother knocked up when she was young, and his father was married.

His mother was sickly and died when he was young.

He spent a lot of time in orphanages/churches under the care of nuns (Has been praying the gay away ever since) until he was taken in by his uncle.

His uncle Leofric, worked as a Prison Officer in London, got stabbed in the neck and killed during a riot when Osferth was only fifteen.

He has a sizable chunk of change in his name from a wealthy father he never knew. (He refuses to touch a dime).

Osferth spent a lot time in soup kitchens (eating & volunteering), spent many a year cutting his own hair to save money (forgive his bowl cuts), and just overall scraping by on odd jobs and the like.

He reconnected with his half-siblings as an adult, or tried to. He and Edward don't really get along (he thinks Edward is a terrible father - not that being a bastard gave him much ground to stand on). He and Aethelflaed absolutely clicked right away.

He is the bestest uncle to Aelfwynn!

Very good with kids, he is a big baby himself at heart, but also super independent because he's used to doing things on his own.

Aethelflaed is super supportive of Osferth (she just think's he's neat) and runs the "Osferth needs a DILF" fanclub

Have I mentioned he is very good w kids, loves trashy romance novels, can cook quite well, is modest about it (secretly thinks he'd be a kick ass housewife)

--- (How he's gotten involved with Uhtred)---

he met Gisela at the soup kitchen - it's a hike for him, but nothing compares to the loving atmosphere.

Was secretly intimidated by her.

Accidentally thought he had fallen in love w her when she showed him pictures of her babies and they made meals together and she asked him about his life - then he realized he has not known motherly affection in a long timeeee ;_;

Gisela would tell him about her lovely little family and how Stiorra was a nightmare to potty train in comparison to her brother

Gisela would show him pictures of the family and he would 'ooh' and 'aah' over pictures of the babies - promptly reminded he is gay when he saw a picture of her husband.

He'd been devastated when he discovered she had passed. She had been to the soup kitchen in a few weeks and he'd sent a few texts to see if she was well, but had merely chalked it up to being a mom of two youngsters.

He misses the funeral service, but figures it was private and reserved for family only.

Osferth, himself, imagined he landed somewhere between a work friend and gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

Still, he kept her in his prayers every night.

They hold a small gathering in the soup kitchen amongst other volunteers that have heard the news of Gisela's passing.

He mourns in his own way, and figures he should be better at it by now.

Still, he manages.

Until he sees Gisela's family walk into the soup kitchen...

Bonus Drabble:

Uhtred is a young, freshly widowed (fuck cancer) single dad to two beautiful children. Young Uhtred (Junior) is four and Stiorra is two. He misses his wife dearly and as a result ends up revisiting many places that remind him of Gisela.

He ends up at a soup kitchen where she often volunteered, the soup kitchen was supported by a local church and while Uhtred had his gripes about Christianity, his wife never did. Gisela loved all people, sometimes with a warm embrace, sometimes with a stern rap of her little knuckles.

The place is small and cramped and he recalls the scent of whatever's being doled into bowls because it used to stick to Gisela's clothes. It's warm in the air and heavy in his lungs, like thyme and bay leaves and sweet carrots and his heart aches.

There's a man - well, a boy who doesn't look older than 17, gangly, awkward, flaxen hair that spirals around his head like a halo, bowed as he chats with an older woman while he pours a heaping ladle's worth of soup into her bowl. The boy's face is familiar, vaguely. There's a spot next to him behind the counter where Gisela should've been.

A woman on line lets him ahead with a sympathetic face - the kids are with him, Stiorra held on his hip, her arms around his neck, and Junior holding his hand. He feels mortified, guilty.

Uhtred tries to back away, feeling terribly out of place and mourning every inch of the woman he loved. When the boy behind the counter spots him, his eyes are blue, startlingly blue - it's like a peek of the sky through a blanket of fog. A soft, angular face like looks like it belongs in a Renaissance painting with high cheeks and sharp cheekbones and pink rips.

Someone else waves them over, Junior gets a bowl, Stiorra does too, the woman that serves them tries to give one to Uhtred but he politely declines.

They sit, they eat. He blows on the little spoon for Stiorra and offers a small smile when she demandingly tugs on his hair, squirming, doughy little fist swinging for the spoon. Junior is able to handle eating on his own, like a big boy, (mostly).

Uhtred is cleaning the kids up and preparing to leave when he noticed someone had come over.

"Um, excuse me, sir," A timid voice begins, high and boyish, pale long fingers wring the sleeves of an aged brown sweatshirt, "I don't mean to - a-are you Uhtred?"

Uhtred stares warily at the boy, at his flaxen hair and ears that have since turned pink.

"Yes," He answers flatly, and he instantly feels cruel for the way the young man winces.

The nuance of conversation bypasses the children and Junior's hand springs up with a wave, as he says, "Me too!"

The boy smiles a timid, growing thing - less afraid.

"You volunteer here?" Uhtred asks though he knows the answer. Gisela had spoken of the friend she had made at the soup kitchen, and realizes why the boy's face seemed familiar. He'd never been bothered by it, his Gisela was a lovely woman and charmed many.

"Um, yes, sir, I...do." The boy answers, he swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing along the pale, elegant stretch of his throat.

He casts considerate blue eyes over to the children, to Junior who babbles about wanting to visit Thyra and Beocca, and to Stiorra who is dozing against Uhtred's shoulder...

"I," The boy begins, slim, pale hands listless as he tugs on a loose thread in the sleeve of his sweatshirt, those high sharp cheekbones that appeared chiseled from marble, redden, his lips, his very pink lips twitch with words unspoken, "My deepest condolences."

Gods, how many time had he heard that same sentiment over the weeks since his wife's passing? How many people had meant it? Uhtred's nostrils flare with every breath he struggles to take in and out with the fissure of pain that splits his chest.

He clears his throat roughly. He blinks away tears that makes the earnest blue eyes of the boy standing across from him dance like sapphires.

"Thank you," He says, it's a genuine thing that bubbles up without him meaning for it too. Many people loved Gisela, it was an easy thing to do, but it finally felt as though someone knew. Knew the agony of losing her. Like the sun had been torn from the sky.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, it's Hild. It could be a thousand things, a lapsed permit or zoning issue, the company has had enough hiccups, let alone after the death of his wife.

"I need to-" Uhtred motions to his phone, the boy nods politely.

"Of course," He says instantly in understanding.

He's still holding Stiorra when he stands, it was late and raining and it's too loud inside the hall.

"I can watch them," The boy offers, sort of perking up like a moping flower kissed by sunlight - it only becomes obvious then  how tall he is. Rightfully, he should be distrustful. He struggles, but his phone buzzes in his hand another time and Uhtred reluctantly hands his daughter over. He watches as the boy gingerly supports her weight, Stiorra's open mouth drooling on the boy's shoulder. He sways gently with Stiorra in his arms, bending and shifting like a reed in the wind.

"Uhtred?" He hears the boy call gently, "do you think you could help me keep an eye on your sister?"

"I can!" Junior answers eagerly.

"Clever boy," Uhtred can picture his son's wide smile, "I can be so forgetful - Oh goodness, where has she gone?"

"Right there," Junior begins to giggle, "Where? Uhtred are you trying to trick me?"

"There!" Junior squeals in laughter that Uhtred hadn't heard in weeks. It's a balm for his soul.

Uhtred answers Hild's incoming call, the phone pressed to his ear.

"How are you holding up?" Is her first question, he strives to be noncommittal with just about everyone but Hild. So, when he answers, he does so honestly, openly. He can hear the tightness in her throat.

"Did you want me to order something? I can be over in," there's rustle over the speaker, "twenty."

He smiles, he loves her all the more for the effort.

"Not tonight, but soon," He swears. He knows, despite everything he's going through, there are still people in his corner, his sister, Beocca, Hild: his relentless supporters.

"I know you're going to ignore me because you always do-"

"-I do not"

"But, have you considered hiring a sitter?"

"Hild," He sighs, he'd abhorred the idea for a time. His own fragmented upbringing left a general distrust of strangers that was easy to default to under duress.

They bicker for a bit, back and forth was their way and the normalcy alleviates some of the ache in his chest.

He wants to reject the idea of needing help, of shouldering responsibilities alone, of being anyone's burden. He rubs at his eyes, a cool sheen of rainwater on his skin.

Inside the soup kitchen, the scent of thyme and bay leaves and sweet carrots is in the air, the warmth in the room fells buttery in the comfort it provides. He can hear his son's voice, laughing, can hear other laughter too.

Stiorra's asleep on the stranger's shoulder. Little hands drowsily clinging to the brown fabric of the sweatshirt.

Hild's voice rattles in his head.

The boy's smile is wide, unbidden, so very youthful. He see's Uhtred and his smile dims, a coy curl of his lips lingers, like an echo, throat bobbing, tongue catching on pink lips, eyes like sapphires still dance.

"Papa!" Junior yelps, delighted, clinging to Uhtred's leg in an instant, "I counted more than Oz!"

"He did, I'm afraid - you're too clever for me." The boy answers, a sheepish way about him, he sways like a reed, right on over to Uhtred's side. Stiorra is very carefully handed over.

"Did you?" Uhtred asks, "How high?"

Junior makes a pensive little face, beside him, the boy, Oz, mouthes fifteen exaggeratedly.

"Oh! All the way up to fifteen!"

"Fifteen?" Uhtred gasps, "Auntie Hild isn't going to believe it."

The children had already been ready to leave before Hild had called and it doesn't take much to tug the lapels of his coat around Stiorra and hold out his hand for Junior.

The boy offers a polite smile, pink mouth pressed together, the scent of thyme and bay leaves and sweet carrots hanging on his sweatshirt, a patch of drool on his shoulder where Stiorra had slept.

"Well, um, goodnight." He says eventually, crouches down to bid a separate farewell to Junior. He rummages through the pocket of his sweatshirt, and pulls out a biscuit wrapped in wax paper.

"I nicked this from the kitchens," He admits, Junior looks affronted, scandalized, but the boy laughs, "It was supposed to be my treat for after, but," Junior's eyes go terribly wide, hopeful, "You did count to fifteen - so, I suppose, you've earned it."

"He can't, he's-" Uhtred begins, but that gangly boy looks up at him from the floor with smiling sapphire eyes and pink lips and says "It's gluten-free."

Uhtred feels...odd.

"Are you allergic as well?" He asks as Junior asks endlessly if he can eat his treat now.

The boy flushes, "Er, no, I-" He rises to his full his height smoothly, hands pushed off the faded knees of his jeans, "I grabbed it after I saw you come in, Gis-" His jaw tightened, tendons flutter under the pressure, "Another volunteer mentioned how someone in her family also had Celiac's..."

The odd feeling persists, its pressure, its hands stemming the flow of blood the open wound the passing of wife had left in him.

"Anyway, I-I only wanted to pay my respects," the boy sighs, flaxen head hanging before he offers a small, sad smile.

"Wait." Uhtred calls, his voice carves through the air.

The stranger turns towards him again, fluorescent lights catch on the delicate braid of a golden chain just barely visible around his neck, tendons jump in neck and the chain dances like motes of sunlight.

"What's your name, boy?"

Those pink lips part in a gentle smile.

"Osferth, sir." He answers.

"Osferth," He repeats sagely.

Hild's voice rattles in his head. Uhtred extends his hand and the boy examines it before shaking hands with him. The touch is soft and lingers in his palm like silk.

"Good to finally meet you."

This was just a silly little headcanon/drabble (1.8k still counts as a drabble, right?) idea, but like, idk, i might be tempted to add more?

[tovalhallaandback]

My Only Wish (This Year)

Pairing: Sigtryggr Ivarson/Stiorra Uhtredsdottir

Summary: What was supposed to be the worst Christmas ever unexpectedly shifts when Stiorra winds up at a fancy bar two days before Christmas aka it's a holiday-inspired fic :)

Warnings: None for now. It's decently fluffy for now. And pretty PG for now.

Read on AO3 // Preview below cut

A once perfectly layered red and white candy cane martini was now as rosy pink as Father Christmas’s cold-bitten cheeks, the bits of silver glitter catching the light every so often as Stiorra swirled it aimlessly. Slumped over the glossy dark-wooded bar top, her head rested on her forearm as she finally gave in to her sorrow while the lounge singer sang every depressing Christmas song imaginable.But at least they chose to come to one of the fancier lounges in Winchester, the kind tucked inside of an even fancier hotel where the bartenders wore bowties and little fitted black vests, and where the white-collars of the world liked to finish their workdays with nightly live music and cocktails that cost more than minimum wage, because she would definitely be risking more than her reputation doing this at one of pubs.

Sure, her cocktail would have been five pounds cheaper, and probably would have had a heavier pour of alcohol, but, a pub, and really any normal bar, was the last place she wanted to be when all the televisions would be airing today’s hockey games. So, she told her brother she wanted to meet here, hoping dressing up and making fun of the wannabe aristocrats would help her feel better. And, it definitely had nothing to do with the fact that this place held a lot of sentimentality for her. Nope. Not at all. It was just a fancy bar. A place to escape and maybe cheer up. Although, maybe she should have just stayed home seeing as the bartender’s small radio by the cash register was tuned to sports radio. And of course, all they could talk about was - drumroll - hockey. 

She cringed when the muffled broadcaster’s voice reached her ear again, “The York Danes beat the Bamburg Goddodins four to zero this afternoon, the heathen powerhouse once again proving they are a force to be reckoned with for the second season in a row!”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” 

Stiorra’s head lifted at the sound of Young Uhred’s voice, looking grossly sympathetic for his baby sister as he returned from the restroom. Ugh, this was what she got for allowing herself to feel her full emotions for once, rather than keeping them locked away. Young Uhtred grabbed his bright red scarf off the back of the navy velvet bar stool, looking way too much like a pretentious uppity scholar than a humble religious teacher at a Nativity school when he wrapped it around his neck. 

But, he was trying to be nice so rather than insult him for his clothing choices, she said, “No, you should go. Just because I am being a grinch this year, doesn’t mean you should be too.” There was a reluctancy in his gaze as he reached for his tan-brown wool coat that had seen better days. “Go. You’ve been looking forward to tonight’s symphony performance for months now.” 

“Just,” Young Uhtred took a breath as if he was second guessing his next words, “Just please tell me this isn’t because of you and your ex still?” Oh fuck, this was not the direction Stiorra wanted this conversation to go in. It was enough when her father tried to give her dating advice, and now her older brother too? Talking to one of the sleazy finance guys who had been oggling her since she walked through the revolving glass door suddenly sounded a lot more pleasant than talking to her elder brother about her relationships. “It’s been mont-“ 

“You think I’m depressed because I’m single on Christmas?” Stiorra snapped. 

“That’s not what I—“ 

“It has nothing to do with him. And, need I remind you that it was a PR stunt? Any sadness I had for that ending was for the cameras,” Stiorra flapped her hand towards her brother, “It was never real.” 

Pity loomed in her brother’s eyes once more, “So you’re really that bummed about work?” 

“Mhmm.” 

Today, she was supposed to be in York covering the Danes versus the Bamburgh Goddodins, which was supposed to be her first big break. Until two days ago, her boss decided to gift her an early Christmas present by crushing her dreams, insisting Aelflaed cover the game due to its potential for being a nail-biter (which it totally wasn’t, any person who just casually followed hockey could have told her boss that the Danes were once again going to defeat the Goddodins in a shutout). But what sucked the most about the whole ordeal? She was supposed to… No, she told her self she wouldn’t throw a pity party (or really at this point she should say she wouldn’t continue to throw one). 

Besides, she had survived the past three weeks already, so she could certainly survive another week or two more…Even if all all the TV channels constantly aired obnoxious idealistic holiday romcoms and all the streets were filled with couples flaunting their happiness as they strolled under the Christmas lights, sharing pastries and steaming cups of coffee, stopping to kiss under mistletoe…None of that made acid rise in her throat or her heart constrict or tears burn eyes… Not one bit. She’d be fine. Absolutely fine. 

[ivyithink]

me shipping these two is like 95% memes and jokes, because they the god’s perfect idiots and making fun of them makes me happy. but i am actually quite fond of them, for better or for worse (it’s worse), and that’s why stuff like this exists

for those who need some comfort after the hurt: here you go, a modern!au where no one dies at fifty! you’re welcome and also i’m very sorry

[sihtricsimp]

Modern!Revolution!Sihtric x Femme!OC

Chapter 1

Warnings: Death, war, guns, shooting, death

Based on this photo (thanks to one of my fellow Nowallian mutuals for finding it for me <3)

Most people would be thrilled to be one of the top pilots from one of the most powerful nations in Europe. Ellia, however, was growing tired of being perfect all the time. Growing tired of their leader seemingly doing nothing about the invading Northmen, spouting peace like it was gospel, yet continuing the hellish war effort as if Satan had possessed him. His war with the incoming Danes, who just wanted a new home after theirs was almost destroyed by storms, his refusal to acknowledge the rebellion so clearly growing right under his nose. It almost made one want to join the rebellion oneself.

But, just like everyone else, Ellia had grown used to her position, afraid of what might happen if they lost even a little of their power. People she had trusted and thought were good to their core were now selfish and complacent, not caring about the lives of their soldiers. General Athelflead, leader of the RAF and daughter to their ever-gracious leader, King Alfred, was one of those people. She had taught Ellia how to fly and was the one to give her the callsign of "Finch". A small bird was perfect for the shortest, and as some of the men would say, prettiest Commander in the Royal Air Force.

General Aethelflead brought Ellia out of her thoughts with a "Well, what do you think, Finch?"

Ellia placed her helmet down on the table with a sigh, "I think it's another suicide mission. Juker, Scramble, Uno, and I just barely survived our last mission to the Danish foothold. We lost eight good pilots in a single dogfight. We should focus on peace talks with Prime Minister Aethelred in Mercia so we can reinforce our dwindling presence in Northumbria!"

"I am well aware of the dire situation in Northumbria," Aethelflead said, "but we can't send the forces there without risking our own borders to the Danes. My father would never approve of the mission, you know this."

"Just because I know it, doesn't make it right." Ellia looked at her mentor, who rose her eyebrows expectantly. "But yes, if it is our holy duty from God, we shall carry it out."

Athelflead nodded. "You leave at 0600 tomorrow. Take the remainder of your squad. Since this is a stealth mission, you can use the new S-40s."

"But we haven't had much-" Ellia was about to protest when Aethelflead raised a hand.

"You and your squad are dismissed, Finch." Aethelflead used her other hand to rub her temple in frustration. "You will need ample time to prepare, will you not?"

"Yes, ma'am." Ellia tried to not let her tone become sarcastic as she saluted the General, and marched towards the barracks, the rest of the squad following suit.

On their way to the barracks, they passed by the War Room, a name given somewhat affectionately to the main meeting room of the facility. It was where all the important meetings took place, and from the look of things, the King was holding an important one. Ellia and her squad were fully intent on just walking past. None of them, Ellia, in particular, had the patience to deal with the incompetence and idiocy of the King and his other generals. King Alfred, sitting side on to the door, had other ideas.

"Ah, Commander Ellia, is it? Just the pilot I wanted to see!" He said looking up from the war table. Of course, he had to be sitting right by the open door.

Ellia suppressed a sigh. Here was the man who was responsible for her friends' deaths. Yet, she could do nothing about it unless she wanted to join her fallen comrades in whatever came next.

"Yes sir, Commander Ellia Goldstrum, callsign Finch, at your service." She gave a quick salute, her three squadmates following suit.

"At ease, ladies." The King stood and motioned for the squad to enter the room. As they did so, Ellia noticed the distinct lack of anyone else other than old white men in the room. With Athelflead out on duty, the major war decisions were being made by crusty Generals who hadn't seen real combat since before Ellia was born. "I know you four have had some contact with the rebellion while on your last flight?" The King continued.

"No, sir, those were Danes we fought. They flew Danish planes that carried Danish insignia, and wore Danish uniforms." Ellia was quickly loosing patience. To be sent on the same suicide mission the following day by the daughter, to then be questioned about the first mission by the father.

"We have credible intelligence from my nephew that the Danes have a shaky alliance with the Rebellion, so they are using Danish equipment." Alfred, as per usual, was calm and composed, even when talking about the savages on the other side.

It made sense that the Danes and the Rebellion would ally themselves, they both had a vendetta against Alfred. The shakiness also seemed correct, as the leader of the Rebellion was known to most as the Daneslayer.

"So you want us to go and confirm this intelligence, then?" Ellia guessed. The crown had a habit of telling its soldiers where to fly and who to fight without saying why, expecting blind loyalty until the last breath. This tracked with Ellia's experience with Christianity. Blind faith without question. Ellia was quite comfortable living in hidden godlessness, knowing there was no risk of burning eternally for her, just the calm nothingness of the void.

After a pause, the King replied, "Yes, we need the intelligence confirmed, but we didn't want you to know in case you got captured by them. They don't need to know that we know about their alliance."

"Can do, sir." Was the only words Ellia could get out without losing her cool. The only reason they were risking their lives was to confirm intelligence? Something spies could easily have done? It was bullshit.

"Dismissed, ladies. You'll need all the rest you can get for tomorrow." The King raised his hand, shooing them away, before turning back to his council. They started talking as Ellia and her squad marched away, but they were all engrossed in their own thoughts to hear what was said.

Ellia only relaxed when they got back to their shared barracks near the flight deck. There were two bunk beds, and they each got a draw to themselves in the dresser, the only other piece of furniture in the room. The higher-ups reckoned they didn't need to waste money on a window to the outside world when their pilots were spending all day in the air regardless.

"I want to defect to the Daneslayer's rebellion more with each passing mission" Juker complained, once they were safely back in their shared bunk room, out of the earshot of their superiors. "I mean, we're flying the exact same path as we did last time, the path that got Candy and Wolf's squads downed." Everyone was draped across their bunks, Juker above Ellia, and Uno above Scramble.

"You find us the rebellion stronghold, and I'll be right there with ya, Juker." Scramble joked, flicking through the same 'Kilted Men' magazine she'd had since forever, a smile on her face.

Leaning over her bunk to look at Scramble, Uno laughed, "Ha! Good luck, their base is harder to find than I am to beat at card games!" Uno always bragged about her winning streak in every card game they played, specifically in her callsign namesake, that was only still a streak because everyone refused to play with her.

"Ya know, I'm still convinced ya cheat every time." Scramble glanced up from her magazine to roll her eyes at Uno.

Uno gasped, her hand going to her forehead, pretending to faint. "Me? Cheat? Why, I would never!"

"Except for when you definitely dealt both Jokers into your hand in Scum," Juker added, getting an offended look from Uno.

"Multiple times, might I add." Ellia enjoyed joining in on her squad's antics, even if it was just one small jab in the middle of a faux argument. She watched the other three joke around, laughing their asses off at something another said, thinking of the love they had for each other. It had been a tough few years for them, and they all needed all of the love and laughter they could get.

Juker and Ellia had come from the same small village on the southern coast. They were only separated for a few months since joining the RAF when Juker crashed into a mountain after avoiding an enemy aircraft and had to hike back to base.

Scramble was from Ireland and had lost her husband somewhere along the way, their baby daughter dying from a chill while she made her way to Wessex with her. Uno, however, was born and raised in Wessex and used flying as a way to see the world and get out of her city life bubble.

Once the sun started to set, and they all had their nightly rations, Ellia called lights out.

"Oh, come on Finch, five more minutes?" Uno protested as Ellia reached for the switch.

"Do you want to be falling asleep at your yoke tomorrow, Uno?"

"I guess falling asleep at the controls a few thousand meters in the air would be bad for my health." Uno conceded, slipping under her sheets.

"Right, 0400 wake up call tomorrow morning, be ready ladies." Ellia turned the lights off, having received a resounding 'yes ma'am' from her squad.

The mission started off well. The S40s were able to climb higher, move faster, carry more ammo than the typical stealth jet, and had much better on board surveillance tech than the S30s. And they were fun to fly.

The squad was formed in a diamond shape, Ellia taking the lead position. Uno was to her left, Scramble on her right and Juker taking up the rear.

"We're coming up on the Danish settlement, Finch.” Juker said, “Break through these clouds and we should see it.”

“Copy that, Juker,” Ellia said. They were at the same location as last time, she recognised the longitude and latitude. She felt her chest sink out of sadness and anxiety. What if there was another ambush? Ellia couldn’t take losing another pilot. “Radio silence from now on, communicate by hand signals. Don’t want the heathens to know they’re being spied on by girls. Let’s just get in and out ladies.”

Ellia received thumbs up from her flanks, and she trusted Juker enough to know she’d listen. They flew in silence for most of the way, but something about this new silence felt heavier. Maybe it was the weight of their former friends and pilots sitting on their soldiers. Or maybe the very air the Danes breathed was toxic.

Ellia didn’t get time to dwell on it though, as they broke through the child’s high above the Danish base. They were high enough up to not be easily spotted by radar or the naked eye, but their powerful cameras allowed them to get a good view of the base.

She saw too much equipment for the Danish army around the base. A few more planes, plenty more trucks and boxes around the buildings, with doubtless more under cover.

The intel gathered by the King’s nephew was correct. The Rebellion had allied themselves with the Danes. Neither the Danes nor the Rebellion had this many resources individually.

Ellia noted down the number of planes and trucks she saw, and made her best approximation on the weapons caches she could see.

She was about to give the back to base signal when a red blip appeared on the edge of her radar. That usually meant a bogey, and they usually hung around. However, it disappeared almost as quick as it had appeared. Glancing to her right, Scramble gave a shrug. Ellia made the eyes up gesture to Scramble. She then turned to give the signal to Uno.

Suddenly, as if like a ghost, a Danish plane flew over Uno’s plane, then the rest of the squad. It had a custom paint job on it’s belly, a Mjolnir symbol, as far as Ellia could make out.

“Alright, comms back on, they know we’re here. Game faces, he might not be alone.” Ellia said, “we might not have much experience in these planes, but God be damned if we aren’t the best pilots in all of Britannia.”

Ellia’s eyes tracked the Danish plane, but it quickly disappeared into the clouds. It was a bad idea to follow it, since it could clearly hide itself from radar.

Before Ellia could even finish her thought, gunfire reigned overhead. The Dane had banked around to behind them.

“Break!” Ellia shouted, Banking left with Uno, Scramble, and Juker going to the right. The pilot had made a mistake, the pilot had alerted them to their presence too early, leaving the squad plenty of time to shoot at the pilot.

Ellia pulled her trigger, bullets flying through the air. The pilot dodged the bullets, pulling up only to reveal a second aircraft. Ellia barely had time to register the four leaf clovers adorning each wing before she herself was hit by the new contender.

The next thing she knew, she woke up, still strapped to her seat. The first thing she noticed was another wreckage next to her, one of her squad members it looked like. Ellia couldn't make out who it was, but whoever was inside wasn't moving.

She scrambled out of her plane as fast as she could and rushed over to the wreck, the adrenaline covering any pain Ellia doubtlessly had. She reached the wreck. Forced open the cockpit. Lifted the head of the pilot.

Ellia screamed, jumping back from the downed jet. Juker. It couldn't be Juker. Juker couldn't be gone. She was known for her evasive maneuvers. She couldn't have been shot down. If anyone was going to survive this mission, it was going to be her.

Ellia tried to compose herself as she climbed the wreck again, to check again. Definitely Juker. She dipped her ear to Juker's mouth. No breath. Tears streamed down Ellia's cheeks, scattering both hers and Juker's bloodstained flight suits.

As she took the dog tags from around Juker's neck, Ellia heard a twig snap behind her. She drew the gun from the holster on her hip, pointing at the noise.

"Commander, it's us..." Scramble said, hands raised.

"What's wrong, Finch?" Uno walked up to the edge of the wreck, "Why have you got Juker's dog tags?"

Ellia sat down on the edge of the cockpit, revealing Juker to the others. She broke down into sobs as they started crying too. Ellia, mid sob, slipped Juker's dog tags on and got down from the plane.

"Right," she sniffled, "Juker would want us to keep moving, find our way back. And I think I may need a bandage for my arm." Now that the adrenaline had worn off a bit, she could feel a good gash in her left arm, going from shoulder to elbow. "I think it's shallow at least, otherwise I would have bled out a while ago."

"You're right, we need to find shelter, and get your would cleaned." Scrambler wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You think we can chance it with the Danes?" Uno joked. She always tried to lighten the mood, no matter how dire the situation was. They were stranded in enemy territory with no way to contact home, and no one coming after them.

"We have less of a chance with the Danes than you have at losing at cards," Scrambler replied.

Before they could come to a conclusion, a Danish pilot came into view from behind Juker's wreck.

"So you ladies come here often?" He said, his messy hair covering his eyes slightly.

"Who the fuck are you, Daneboy?" Ellia drew her gun for the second time, followed closely by the others.

"Commander Goldstrum, is it? My name is Sihtric Kjartansson, callsign Runt, with the Rebellion. I am to take you and your squad to the Daneslayer."

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Alternative Universes moodboards

Baldur's gate 3

Spooky

Modern

House of the Dragon

Spooky

Modern

The last kingdom

Spooky