#ulfric x dragonborn

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

It's that day of the week, kiddos, so you know what that means! [finger guns] Is it intentionally vague? You bet it is! Do you know what happened yet? ;) Today is also a 2 for one special. I have art WIP of the girl (tm).

Tagging: @oblivions-dawn @dirty-bosmer @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @bostoniangirl21

@sheirukitriesfandom @vivifriend @umbracirrus @skyrim-forever @hircines-hunter and YOU! YEAH YOU!

“I won’t want anyone else there, please. I—” 

They respected his request as much as possible, but they could not leave him entirely alone. Both of them know how it feels to lower someone you love into the ground. Dahlia did it alone.

However, neither of them expected Helgrid to come to the Palace in the late evening.

“There was a note inside the mouth. Thought I should bring it.” 

Remember the 30th of Frostfall. I’m waiting for you, Ulfric.

-Elenwen, First Emissary and Ambassador to Skyrim

Ulfric turns the paper in his fingers.

“My bear, please let me burn it. There is no reason for you to—”

“Do you know what happened on the 30th of Frostfall, Dahila?” He runs a shaking hand through his hair. “What were you, months old at the time? Divines…” He leans back to stare up at the ceiling. Never has he felt so old as he does now as he sits next to his wife. The things he knows, the things experienced first hand.

The Girl:

[blossom-adventures]

For the Bad Things Bingo, I feel like Nightmares is a great prompt for Skyrim, because there is genuinely so much nightmare fuel in LDBs life? Fighting dragons, delving into undead infested tombs, being a centerpoint of brewing war... If nothing soecific, then the sheer amount of stuff just would end up in a nightmare fuel.

Also hay, hope you are doing well!

Hi! I am so so sorry it took so long to get around to posting this, things have been happening and my writing has had to take a backseat for a little while, but I am hoping that I can shift back into gear soon ☺️💙

For my @badthingshappenbingo prompt, Nightmares

This is a little teaser for the sequel to my Dragonborn story (it’s not got a title yet but I know what’s going to happen)

Visions of the Future

Ulfric stirred, he heard mumbling to his side, a regular occurrence now that he shared his bed with the Dragonborn, he turned his head slowly to look at Jaina, her eyes were still shut, and she was moving slightly, as if she was waving something away, she was clearly having a nightmare. Ulfric pushed up so he was leaning on his elbow, he reached over and gave her shoulder a light shake

“Jaina, love, wake up” Jaina sat up in bed, letting out a half gasp, half sob as she realised where she was, Ulfric moved his hand away as she calmed down

“Ulfric?” Jaina shifted so she was sitting up in bed, hugging her knees close to her chest, Ulfric moved up the bed too and wrapped his arm around her shoulders

“You’re safe, love, I’m here” Ulfric whispered as he leant closer to her, Jaina was trembling in his grip, “do you want to talk about it at all?” Jaina melted into his embrace, “was it Alec again?” She shook her head

“I… I was in a strange place… the sky was green and the water was black and as thick as honey… I… I was with someone, but he was wearing an odd mask, I couldn’t see his face”

“What happened?”

“Something grabbed me, it pulled me into the water, the man in the mask, he tried to get me out… but he couldn’t reach me, I was getting dragged deeper, and I couldn’t breathe.” Jaina started to cry, “I was so scared, Ulfric” Ulfric pulled her into his lap, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder, “it felt so real” her voice was quiet now as she continued to cry.

“And this wasn’t a place you knew?” Ulfric asked

“No… the realms of Oblivion I’ve had the misfortune of seeing never had green skies, I’ve seen red, purple and grey, but never green” Ulfric kissed the top of her head

“Jaina, this was a nightmare, nothing more”

“But all my nightmares have been places I knew, memories, things that haunt me from my past, this place… it was unknown to me, and the man in the mask? Who was he?”

“Did the man say anything?” Jaina thought for a moment, Ulfric could tell she was trying to recall the nightmare

“He… I think he called out to me, he was trapped there, he was so… sad… but then scared when I got dragged into the water” Jaina fell silent for a while, Ulfric could feel her starting to relax into his arms a little more, her breathing was also starting to even out too “Ulfric?”

“Yes, love?”

“What if my nightmare was a dream of the future? What if this is going to happen to me soon?” Ulfric’s arms tightened around her and he tucked her head under his chin.

“Jaina, my love, if you have somehow managed to foresee the future, then I am certain you will face whatever this is with the same bravery and power you’ve faced everything else with” Jaina curled up, as close to Ulfric’s chest as she could get and let out a long, trembling sigh “Rest, Jaina, you’re safe here”

[matri4rch]

"The Amulet"

🤍🐻‍❄️AO3 LINK🐻‍❄️🤍

Snippet:

"Ulfric's voice echoed in his mind as the image of her face gradually dissipated into a clouded abyss of shadows and darkness. A chill ran down his spine as her godly form slowly slipped away from his grasp.

"Tell me who you are, spirit..." he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you want from me?" The silence that followed once again was deafening as she continued to retreat from his touch, her hands transforming into shimmering snow that engulfed him in its icy embrace before finally letting him go.

For what felt like an eternity, Ulfric's body drifted into the freezing abyss of unconsciousness. Then, as slowly as he fell under the spell, the Jarl of Windhelm slowly returned to Nirn as he opened his eyes once again. Squinting as a deep orange and red glow blinded him, warmth caressed his frozen skin. And the overwhelming silence was drowned by the faint sound of a cracking fire."

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday 💛

Wednesday again!!! I've been trying to work some more on the next chapter for The Perfect Storm, because this Friday marks a year since I posted the first chapter!! I'm honestly so so happy that I'm still working on it now, after years without the heart to write, seventeen chapters in with many more to go!

Some more festival shenanigans with Elyse and Balgruuf, inspired by my discovery that one of Balgruuf's primary skills in Skyrim happens to be archery.

---------

Elyse groaned quietly as her arrow feebly clattered to the ground some feet before the target, and Balgruuf had to stifle a laugh as she started muttering to herself quietly. All that he could hear was her blaming both the cold and the bow, pale wisps of air dissipating around her as she grumbled. He had never expected her to be the sort of person who took losing or failing badly, but given how stubborn she could sometimes be… perhaps it wasn't as far-fetched as he had first thought.

Unfortunately, she heard him trying to conceal his amusement, and she continued mumbling for a moment longer before staring at him. “I saw that, and it isn't funny! This was a fluke, there’s only two bows I can use properly, and this isn’t like either of them!” she huffed, before taking a deep breath, walking over to him, and thrusting the bow into his hands. “How about you try? If my attempt was so amusing, then that must surely mean that you can do better than me.”

He barely had the chance to protest before she had more or less pushed him onto the mark indicated on the ground to shoot the target from. “Elyse, I wasn’t laughing at-“ He stopped speaking when he saw her hands on her hips and the raised eyebrow that she was giving him. “Oh, for the love of... Fine.”

Seemingly satisfied with his decision to go along with her demands, she called Elrindir over to ask for three more arrows.

It had been a while since he had used a bow himself, so he didn't have any high expectations of what he would be able to achieve, but… well, Elyse's arrows had barely made it halfway to the target. He was confident that he could manage at least a bit closer if he hadn't allowed himself to get too rusty in his abilities.

Balgruuf could feel Elyse’s eyes on him expectantly as he took one of the arrows he had been given, held the bow up, positioned his hands and arms, before letting the arrow loose. It sailed through the air, passing over the scattered arrows from her failed attempts, before embedding itself into the target. It wasn’t quite on the centre, but was decently close enough all things considered.

A quiet tut came from his side. “Show off. Probably just luck...”

The same happened with the second arrow. It was much closer to the edge of the target, but the wind had ended up picking up and no doubt had an impact on his aim. Elyse inhaled sharply at the very moment the arrow had landed, and from the corner of his eyes he could see her start fidgeting.

When the third arrow landed on the target she didn’t audibly react, but when he turned to face her, she had a dumbfounded stare plastered across her face. That look was quick to turn into a pout accompanied by her folding her arms over as he started laughing once more. She genuinely didn't take losing well at all.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

I accept that I have trash taste because I ship my Last Dragonborn with Ulfric, but Ulfric is a teddy bear compared to the gross behavior of Bishop. Like seriously, this guy's behavior is reminiscent of a really bad anime based on an even worse manga. Ulfric's problem is he's layered and the devs cut some of the layers.

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 28: Soothing Touch ~ Ulfric Stormcloak/F!Dragonborn [1,339 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

Elsa prowled into the Palace of Kings with a smirk on her face, a couple of fresh scars, and plenty of new stories to tell. Which was exactly how she liked it. High King Ulfric Stormcloak sat on his throne, with no small number of folk gathered in the hall to seek some favour or another from him, and so she decided he could be forgiven for not noticing her arrival. Galmar, however, did – and his responding chuckle was loud enough to draw Ulfric’s attention, who looked to him, and then followed his gaze to Elsa as she approached.

“Dragonborn,” he greeted, low voice rumbling out above all other voices in the hall.

The merchant he’d interrupted seemed miffed at first, but then he registered what Ulfric had said and all heads whipped around to look at her. She liked that just fine – it made clearing a path to the throne easier. Sauntering forth, she dipped into a half-bow, hand pressed to her chest.

“My king.”

“It’s been some time. There were rumours that you’d been killed,” he considered her slowly.

“Did you believe them?”

He offered a low, reverberating chuckle. “Not a chance.”

Elsa glanced in the direction of the merchant, and then around the crowd gathered who seemed to watch the interaction with bated breath, not wanting to so much as cough lest they miss a word. When she looked back to Ulfric, she found his eyes had not strayed an inch from her.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said.

And she almost sounded apologetic for it.

“Business has run late,” he replied. “But I believe Wuunferth wishes to consult you on some artefact he found.”

A lovely, convenient excuse for her to walk through the war room and up into the living quarters of the palace, right before the eyes of all those here. Elsa smiled. How she’d missed him.

To her credit, she did go to Wuunferth once she’d jogged up the stony steps that led to the sleeping chambers of those chosen enough to live within the palace itself. But only to sell him a few rare, enchanted artefacts she’d come across for a very steep price – and, as she’d suspected, he had nothing to consult her on. By the time she was done, and her pack was a good deal lighter, Jorleif had found her.

“The Jarl has ordered for a bath to be drawn for you, my lady,” he greeted, before adding quietly, “in his chambers.”

Well, she supposed he saw no use in being subtle when it came to servants of his own household.

The bath, kept scalding hot with a few artful fire spells, worked the cold out of her bones and the soreness from her muscles so well that she had only just climbed out of it by the time she heard Ulfric’s voice in the hallway outside. Wrapped in an abundant amount of soft linen, steam rose steadily from her skin as she sat before the fire, content to air-dry as she dragged a comb through her dripping hair.

Finally, the High King of Skyrim slipped into the room, closing and locking the door behind him for good measure. Elsa had just enough energy to feign an unconvincing look of surprise.

“Did I wander into your chambers instead of the guest wing? I do apologise, your majesty. That Jorleif – always up to mischief.”

He chuckled, casting aside his heavy fur-laden coat and then making quick work of the chestplate beneath with an efficiency that belied his haste. Finally, when he was done, he approached, extending one large hand towards her. Elsa grasped it and brought his knuckles to her lips – like a supplicant.

“Stop that,” Ulfric scoffed, wrapping his fingers around hers and hauling her up.

Elsa allowed it, and then she was in his arms – glad he’d disposed of his armour so that she could feel him pressed against her as she dropped the bullshit and wrapped her arms around him. One of his arms remained wrapped tightly about her waist as if fearing she’d run off again the moment he let go, but the other roamed up the curve of her spine, across her bare shoulders and up into her hair, caring not for the water still clinging to her.

All but purring, she melted into the touch, sighing her contentment. Out there, none touched her unless they intended to kill her. It was easy to forget what this was like. Often because she made sure to do so, by force of necessity. Ulfric felt the same, she knew he did, for few ever touched him without wanting something. A kiss on his hand that preceded a beg. Elsa, however, never asked him for anything. He gave her much, that was true, but she never asked for it. She never would.

He was so wrapped up in touching her – making sure she was here, real and warm and breathing, that it seemed to take him a moment to remember to kiss her. It was funny how, upon each reunion, it simultaneously felt like years since he’d last kissed her but also mere seconds, his lips pressing harshly against hers as he stole the air from her lungs.

When they parted, it was only so he could lead her to the bed, although he made no move to unwrap her from her linen, nor remove more of his clothing. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the enormous bed and he sat, pulling her so that she straddled him and then he buried his face in her hair, keeping her there as he held her tightly. Relief washed over her, the same way it would when she drank her first gulp of water after a battle, or had her first bite of food after being forced to go without without for days. Elsa returned the grip fiercely, thinking of little other than that he was here, as she’d pined for in every godforsaken ruin and cave across Skyrim. And that she’d run through any who tried to interrupt them now.

“I forgot what this was like,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“I must strive to make a more memorable bedfellow,” he remarked drily.

“Not that. This,” she squeezed, to illustrate her point.

“…If you didn’t stay away for so long, it might be easier to remember,” he murmured. “If you stayed, you’d have no chance to forget.”

“You want to install me as your mistress, is that it?”

“The Dragonborn would be a fitting High Queen of Skyrim,” he corrected. “And I could hope for no finer queen than you.”

“I’m not made for queening. For growing soft in a palace, eating that which I did not procure for myself, pretending to care for merchant squabbles.”

“There is more than one way to be a queen, Elsa. Particularly in Skyrim, and especially if you were to be my queen. Unless you think me soft and idle.”

The joke was right there, waiting to be said. A lack of hardness was never one of your problems, or some such nonsense. But to retreat into that would be taken as an insult…and he’d be right to do so. Instead, she sighed quietly and said nothing.

“Am I making progress with my case, then?” he hedged.

“What makes you say that?”

“The first time I broached this matter, you left immediately thereafter and I did not see you for half a year.”

He did not know, and she didn’t tell him, that she’d returned expecting to find him wed off to some truly suitable candidate. Nor did she tell him that she had no idea whether she, at the time, desired or dreaded to find that such had been the case. And she certainly didn’t divulge that she now knew she’d have been sick if it had come to fruition.

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly, glad he could not see her face.

And Ulfric smiled – because no doubt he heard the temptation in her voice.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[helgiafterdark]

glowing

[galadrieljones]

Royal! Twilight! Rocking chair!!

Thank you for the prompt ❤️ The thing I felt most like writing about for this prompt was my Skyrim oc, Osk Frostborn. This is a ship I have not written before but have wanted to write for a long time.

Skyrim | Dragonborn x Ulfric Stormcloak | Mature

Winter in the Marrow: I

Have you ever opened up a book and seen words, but not known what to do with them?

Osk sat in a hard wooden chair, staring past the fire in the Nightgate Inn. Outside, the snow had been like spikes, in her eyes and in her hair. 

The bard here was loquacious.

"Those is heavy weapons," said the bard with her hands folded around her lute. "Ebony weapons? You must be rich then."

"I'm a good smith," said Osk. 

"Well, it's your hair then. Your hair gives you away." The bard had a slight lisp. She had an accent straight from the lowlands of the Rift. She wore bright red make-up on her cheeks, a rouge made from snowberries, which felt on trend to Osk, considering what she’d seen the women wearing in Solitude in those days. She had round hips, but she couldn't have been much older. Maybe in her late twenties. "Plus you had to learn smithing somewhere," the bard went on. "From someone, right? Ebony. That's expensive juice."

"What are you talking about?" said Osk.

"I mean, your hair," said the bard. She sat down in the rocking chair beside the fire, right next to Osk. "It's long and very blond. Like, white. Looks like you were born from fear."

Osk laughed at this. "That's an old wive's tale."

"Well, maybe," said the Bard. Her hair was very red. "But you were born in the Pale, weren't you?"

Osk did not answer.

"Maybe Winterhold, I suppose. Nords up in Winterhold look nigh on as elves, I'd say. They're so old in the marrow. Lots of them come ‘round here. They farm winter crops, or they're mages. But you are not a mage I reckon. I've never seen you before."

Osk took a drink from her flagon. It was punishing and strong. Some sort of mulled wine. Or maybe not. She'd already forgotten what the innkeeper had offered. "I haven't lived in Skyrim since I was a baby."

"Where'd you go?"

"Somewhere else."

"I'm just trying to make conversation."

"A lot of bards have said the same exact thing, but they don't work for themselves."

"You aren't being too kind," said the bard. She seemed sad now. She looked down at her freckled hands. "I ain't no spy. I know the bad rap we got, us bards. But I ain't no spy. I swear. I'm from Falkreath. Helgen."

"Helgen?" said Osk. She had been wrong, and she felt bad. "Do you know what happened to your town?"

The bard nodded sadly, looking down at her lute. "Mother sent home about it. She's in a bad way now, I believe. Moved to Whiterun where she lives in the inn."

"I'm sorry," said Osk. "I really am." She wasn’t trying to be a bitch. She took a deep breath instead. "I don't tell people where I'm from, okay? It's not personal. It's just like...operational security."

"What's operational security?" said the bard. "Never learned nothing like that from Talos."

"It just means, I don't know you, so no matter what you say, I can't trust you. No offense."

"Guess you must be important then, eh?" This seemed to perk her up immediately. "You like, royalty?"

Osk had come across girls like her before. Rural kinds. They took on the very disposition of their crop. Hers would have been radishes. She seemed nice.

"Not really," said Osk.

"You ain't here with the Imperial Legion, are you?"

"No," said Osk. The bard recoiled. Perhaps she'd said it more forcefully than she meant. "Sorry. Just, no."

"You a Stormcloak then?"

Osk didn't answer.

"I said, are you a Stormcloak then?" said the bard, louder. She seemed to think that Osk couldn't hear properly. She glanced around, like it was a secret. But there weren't too many others at the inn that night. Some old man orc, down in the cellar. Liked her music. The innkeeper himself had dozed off behind the counter, and there were just a handful of off-duty guards from Dawnstar, piss drunk, trading bad jokes on the other side of the room. "If you are a Stormcloak," the bard continued, "that would make sense, being in the Pale and all, so close to Eastmarch. You look real tired, ma'am. You look real beat."

They both heard a loud noise then and looked toward the door. A big man had entered, bringing with him the cold, purple bite of the twilight air. Everybody got quiet, including the drunken guards. One of them dropped his flagon, and it spilled all over the floor.

The man in the doorway shook the snow out of his enormous, expensive furs. It was Ulfric Stormcloak. He wore a heavy fur cap, the face carved right off a bear.

"By Talos," said the Bard.

Osk looked away and closed her eyes against the heat from the fire. She was embarrassed. She squeezed her hands tightly into fists as a habit. She took off her heavy leather gloves, which she had not even realized she was still wearing, until now. She didn't know what to do, or how he'd managed to track her. She had been very careful.

"Osk," he said. The relief, how he regarded her. It was confusing, like the loud clanking of his chainmail against the quiet crackling of the fire. "Osk. Thank Talos."

The whole room was staring at her, including the bard. She looked at Osk with huge eyes. She’d guessed royalty. She could not have guessed this. In any case, she got up right away to ask him if he needed something, what he would like to drink. He ordered a mead and one whole apple pie with a kindly voice that Osk had rarely heard him use with his own servants, in his Palace of the Kings. 

He came and sat in the rocking chair where the sweet bard and her radish disposition had been sitting just moments before. It was strange to consider him in a rocking chair. Seemed a place for a grandmother, or a curious bard. And yet, he came to possess it. He leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees. He said it again, more forcefully now: "Osk."

It was almost pathetic, she thought. The way he spoke to her. So she looked at him. His pale hair was matted down where his hat had been. He had the saddest eyes of any man she'd ever met, frozen solid with grief. "Hello, Ulfric," she said. "How did you find me?"

"Your horse is very recognizable," said Ulfric. "Bred by the Black-Briars. You should sully her coat if you'd like to remain hidden, Osk. Especially in the Pale."

"How do you know the Black-Briars?"

He smiled.

Osk finished her mead. It made her feel dizzy. His smell and presence were all-encompassing, and they filled up the whole room, all around her. He had this habit in the mornings, of dabbing his wrists with this kind of apple essence, made for him by an alchemist in Solstheim. It smelled of bark, and tart juices. Apples were a relic from her childhood, where she had lived, hidden with her mother on a botanical berry farm near the Gold Coast of eastern Cyrodill. He liked apples. It was one of the first things they'd shared. 

"You shouldn't be seen in the Pale," she said.

"Neither should you."

"Why are you here?"

"You said not to follow," said Ulfric, removing his gloves, as he intended to stay a while. The bard stood by with his mead and his apple pie, set it down on the table between them. Ulfric thanked her and picked up his fork and knife.

"So why didn't you listen?" said Osk.

"I never listen," he said, tucking in. “I assumed you’d know this by now, Dragonborn.”

(to be continued)

Send a prompt! - Ask Box

[rosiesmcposies]

Do you still do X Reader requests? If so, could I please get headcanons of Miraak, Serana, and Ulfric Stormcloak (separate) having feelings for the Dragonborn, only to realize the DB already has a significant other?

yup! I still do x reader stuff and I’m now open for fallout 4 characters now to! :D I’m using tumblr on mobile browser so sorry if the formats off but thank you for the request!

Miraak

honestly accepting he had feelings for the Dragonborn was hard enough and then finding out they have a s/o? He is going through it. He’s mainly filled with anger in some sense mixed with jealousy. He’s constantly going back and forth in his mind from being mad at himself for even having these feelings to being mad at their s/o, in his eyes they will never be good enough for the Dragon born. Miraak is definitely not one to tell the Dragon born EVER though. He tries to contain his emotions so it’s not obvious but if you look hard enough it’s pretty easy to tell. He’s praying for the downfall of the relationship, but also he’s like “as long as their happy I guess but don’t settle for less.” He’s the biggest hater out there.

Serana

Serana also had a hard time accepting her feelings but for much different reasons, she didn’t want to be vulnerable in that way. She had planned on telling the dragon born but she kept on pushing it off mentally going back and forth on wether she should tell them or not. After finding out they had a s/o Serana was sad but relieved she found out before she told them. She was happy they had someone but it was still a lot to deal with. Serana will tell them eventually, but she isn’t asking them out, she just wants to communicate how she feels about them, which is still really hard but she’s less stressed than before. She has an open and honest talk and hopes the feelings go away, she does isolate herself for a bit, just so she can be alone with herself and her thoughts.

Ulfric

honestly I don’t know much abt ulfric but I think he’d just like accept it. He’d be upset for sure but idk I think his confidence would like prevent him from being…distraught? He’s just a little sad by it and like gives himself a pep talk like “you are strong and could have anyone you want. Do not stress.” Idk I don’t know ulfric well bc I don’t rlly talk w him in game so that’s just what I imagined.

[reachwitch]

Roar of a Wolfborn completed 46/46

After losing her family, Sifkni finds herself almost executed. After fleeing, she travels to Whiterun where she encounters the Companions. She knows their secret, as she is also a werewolf. Despite feeling that someone else is better suited for the role, she is soon thrust into the position of Dragonborn. She must learn to believe in her skills and heal from her past to fulfill her destiny. Farkas x LDB {F Werewolf Nord} | Skjor x OC {M Skaal}

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | EPILOGUE |

Hunt of the Blood Moons

After defeating Alduin, Last Dragonborn Sifkni is called to Falkreath for a werewolf problem. She helps solve the mystery, only to have a Great Hunt called on her by Hircine. Sequel to Roar of a Wolfborn Farkas x LDB {F Werewolf Nord}

Chapter PROLOGUE | 1 | WIP

Sivaas

After her pack is killed, Estinan wanders around Skyrim. With no home to call her own, she makes do with hunting or selling her sword arm. She ends up in Riften on a fateful day. With her pockets emptied by a handsome thief, she tracks him through the sewers and begins her strange quest with the Thieves Guild. Brynjolf x OC {F Werewolf Bosmer}

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | WIP

Fury of a Tundra Wolf

Former Harbinger of the Companions, Thea Icehammer, joins the Stormcloak army. She fights alongside the army to bring Ulfric his victory and to free Skyrim from Thalmor and Empire's clutches. Galmar x OC {F Werewolf Nord}

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | WIP

What are Friends for?

Ciara Finley, an aspiring alchemist and healer, finds herself in Helgen. Her childhood friend, Ralof, sits in front of her on the carriage and her fiance, Hadvar, is holding the list for the execution. After a catastrophic breakup, Ciara joins Ralof on his way to Windhelm to join the Stormcloaks. OC x OC  ; Eventual Ralof x OC {F Breton Alchemist/Healer}

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | WIP

Toe the Line

'Toe the line means to follow the rules or act in the way people expect you to' A phrase and act Dyrvina was familiar with, growing up as Jarl Skald's granddaughter. Dyrvina is now sent to Windhelm as a Political message to Jarl Ulfric. Arranged to marry the Jarl of Eastmarch, Dyrvina despises her grandfather and Jarl Ulfric. Ulfric x OC {F Nord} Slowburn

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | WIP

Mother of Hunters

Adelina, a devout Hircine follower and werewolf, is called to one of the Lord Huntsman’s Great Hunts. But as the Hare. She must survive three days with his Hunters and three nights with him personally hunting her. Adelina must survive. If only to prove she is NOT a Hare. She will not ever be a HARE. Hircine x OC {F Werewolf Nede/Nord}

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | Epilogue | Lore Book

Vestige Liselle encounters another Problematic Prince ft. Dragons (and Mudcrabs)

Liselle’s encounters of Tamriel and Oblivion are detailed in mostly journals. ESO Main Questline, a couple Daggerfall Covenant Quests, Clockwork City, Original Plot: Coldfire Codex, Elsweyr, Mages’ Guild, Blackwood | Future Goals: High Isle and Necrom Abnur Tharn x Vestige {F Breton}

Just a Ruin (and Mudcrab) Advocate | 158 Chapters | Journal Coldfire Codex Chap 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 Rage of Dragons and the Vestige | 65 Chapters | Journal Mages’ Guild Fiasco: Journal of Vestige Liselle |  24 Chapters | Journal In Which Liselle’s Fist Lands upon Another’s Cheek | WIP | Journal

Blessings of the Moons

Finnki is the Thane of Whiterun. She takes frequent bounties to keep her life and mind busy. She comes across the scene of an ambush. There’s only one survivor. J'Med. He’s a Khajiit from far-off lands, traveling to Skyrim to shake off his past. Finnki helps J'Med with recovery and fitting into Skyrim. J'Med teaches Finnki about moving on and leaving one’s past. OC {F Nord/Bosmer} x OC {M Khajiit}

Chapter 1 | 2 | WIP

Shadow of the Druadach

Tiernan is the Last Dragonborn. He is also a Reachman. He is a prickly man on his quest to save his world, despite the distrust and prejudice he faces on the daily. While he is looking for an Elder Scroll for Paarthurnax, he meets Rozelia Greensly. A master Mage at the College of Winterhold. She is very interested in the Reach and Reach magic. She joins Tiernan on his adventure, to his dismay. Perhaps the buds of friendship will bloom during their trip to find the Elder Scroll. Last Dragonborn {M Reachfolk} x OC {F Breton}

Chapter 1 | WIP

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

LET'S GET READY TO RUMMMMMBLLLLEEEEE! In the left corner we have the man in blue, the true high king of Skyrim, everyone's favorite man to hate, the bear himself--ULFRICCCCC STORRMMMCLOAAAAK! And in the right corner we have the man in green, a self-proclaimed king in rags, a myth and conspiracy, the jailbroken man himself--MADANAAAACHHHHHHHHH!

Grump old men, start your engines! This is going to be a hell of a face off.

Tagging: @oblivions-dawn @dirty-bosmer @umbracirrus @bostoniangirl21 @throughtrialbyfire

@vivifriend @inkysqueed @skyrim-forever @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @archangelsunited

@theoneandonlysemla @hircines-hunter

Ulfric scoffs lightly under his breath—the title is nothing but a joke designed to poke fun at authority with the added bonus of inflating Madanach’s ego. Bloody King in Rags would be much more apt in his eyes; the Forsworn leader’s hands are far from clean.

“It is rather generous of me to even entertain this charade, Bear of Markarth.” Madanach’s may be old, but his wrinkled eyes are as sharp as ever tracking every movement of the tyrant king before him down to the single bead of sweat running down the side of his nose. His cracked lips break to reveal a crooked smile, chipped and yellowed teeth bearing a mocking grin. “Is it too warm for you here?” He waves a hand around almost theatrically, a man accustomed to weaving a long yarn or unwinding someone’s dwindling patience. “Or…perhaps it is that you are out of your element, hm? The last time you were here you bathed in the blood of innocent women and children.”

A chair scrapes back suddenly as Galmar makes to stand, but Ulfric raises a hand abruptly stopping him.

“How can you let that savage to speak to you in that way? I’ll cut out his damned tongue and—”

“Enough, Galmar.”

“I knew better than to think that we could sit down and—”

“I said enough.” Ulfric’s measured tone is strained yet still controlled, leaving no room for his housecarl to argue with him. “I know what game he plays, and that I can testify to just as many atrocities as he can try to pin on me. He’d have us here all day arguing about the past in an attempt to avoid the future.” His lips curve into a wan smile. “It’s well played, Madanach, but you are no martyr just as I am no saint, so let’s cut the bullshit and talk like men.”

Madanach claps once and then twice, a slow staccato. “Do you really believe the hollow words you speak, or are you too so charmed by your own hubris? You almost have me fooled into thinking you truly believe in it.”

[blossom-adventures]

💌 : How would they plan a romantic evening for a significant other?

For Jaina, unless it was asked already. In this case perhaps... Something about her favourite romantic dinner and how it went?

Jaina has little to no experience with romance, so when she starts to get closer to Ulfric she isn’t really sure what to do in terms of a romantic evening, so she asks people she knows have had relationships; Kaidan, Kristof, her family etc. And the best advice they gave her was a romantic dinner, wine, candles, Ulfric’s favourite meal etc.

So she does that, and everything went smoothly… until a report returned from Galmar saying that a group of Imperials attacked a group Stormcloak solders as they were falling back to Windhelm, it soured Ulfric’s mood for the rest of the evening but she tried again a few days later and that was left uninterrupted, meaning they could actually enjoy the dinner and each other’s company

[matri4rch]

High Hrothgar

🤍🐻‍❄️ AO3 LINK 🐻‍❄️🤍

THE DRAGON, SHE IS HERE. it only took like a month and a torn muscle for me to sit down and think what the fuck I wanted to do with these two eloquent noble bears, but HAH. I did it!

Galmar my beloved. *kiss*

Why am I always sick or wounded, lmao

Ik I said I'd have them tussle and beat each other up but I couldn't write the damn scene. I hate fighting scenes smh.

[argisthebulwark]

thinking heavily about skyrim enemies to lovers. 

Rat Bastard Thief TLD x Ulfric. they break into his palace, cleaning the place out of anything valuable that isn’t nailed down. Ulfric catching a fleeting look at them. he knows that he should have them jailed for their crimes but they’re already gone. the thief getting more brazen, tiptoeing into his bedroom while he sleeps in search of his finest robes. Ulfric trapping them against the cold stone wall, sucking in a breath to call for his guards before he’s slammed onto his back with their blade at his throat. Both left unable to kill one another despite the hate coursing through their veins. 

Righteous, upstanding citizen TLD x Brynjolf. The Dragonborn moves to Riften in the aftermath of the civil war. they hope to relax by the lake’s waters and enjoy a quiet life. instead they find a city guard at its wits end and the Thieves Guild making an unprecedented return to power. Brynjolf watching this newcomer from afar and wondering just how much of a thorn they will be in his side. they work day and night in an effort to bring the city back under control of the law. Brynjolf quickly learns that annoying them is very fun. The dragonborn entering the Ratways in a last ditch effort to stop the crime at its source and caught off guard by Brynjolf leaning in close, arms strong around their waist. “I’ll play by your rules if you play by mine, lass.” 

Mara Worshipper TLD x Miraak. A Dragonborn who wishes only for a peaceful, prosperous age for Skyrim. Miraak who wants to tear their world to shreds just to show them how powerful they could be. the Dragonborn reaching out to citizens of Solstheim trying to return them to their homes, spending time with their families and carrying the Blessings of Mara with them. Miraak throwing every horrid bit of power he has at them to erase their foolish hope for peace. The Dragonborn turning their full attention on him, believing that somehow he can be freed from Hermaeus Mora’s grasp. 

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

I Didn't Know You Were Keeping Count | Masterlist

fic on ao3

fic on FanFiction.Net

"Did you miss me?”

“Bishop,” she whispered as a storm of turmoil thundered through her veins.

He smirked at her.

She felt her brain grind to a halt. As the ranger enfolded a statuesque Leara in his arms, she felt unattached from her body. She couldn’t feel her hands or her feet. If Bishop hadn’t been holding her, Leara knew she would’ve crumpled like paper.

And when, the next moment, Bishop kissed her, one arm locked around her waist and the other hand tangled in her matted red hair, Leara didn’t fight him.

No, she kissed him back.

Leara Ormand, the Last Dragonborn, is trying to fulfill her destiny and stop Alduin while battling with her own feelings of self-doubt and anxiety. In walks Bishop, the ranger from the Skyrim Romance Mod, whose obsessioninfatuation only serves to make Leara worse. Along the way, she reencounters Ulfric Stormcloak, who she knew during the Great War — she prays he doesn’t remember her. Add in the Thalmor hunting her and Leara’s got a full plate. Naturally, there’s always a way to make it worse!

1: Rat | I smell a rat

2: Raven | The raven chides the blackness

3: Hawk | Get me away where the hawk is wheeling

4: Lark | Unhappy as a lark

— Lark, Continued

5: Moth | Like a moth to the flame

— Outtake: Arcanaeum, Midnight — Alternate

6: Salmon | The salmon of wisdom swims deep

7: Sparrow | A sparrow when she's broken

8: Steed | Like a hot steed that stumbles

9: Slaughterfish | Swimming in a sea of slaughterfish

10: Swan | Not all geese are swans

— Swan, continued | With the grace of a swan

11: Cat | In a bag full of cats, only one gets the cream

12: Owl | An owl to a mouse is a nightmare

13: Wasp (coming soon)

Misc.:

Azura's Ask Box (Ask Me Anything!)

About Content Warnings

Main Theme: Isolation by SYR

Rough Timeline of Leara and Delphine as Blades

Why doesn't Leara retaliate?

[esta-elavaris]

Day 1 - "I've got you." - Thorin Oakenshield/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 2 - Family, friends, loved ones - Aemond Targaryen/OC - tumblr / AO3 Day 3 - "You love me?" "I always have." - Papa Emeritus IV/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 4 - Cinderella Moment - Aemond Targaryen/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 5 - X + 1 - Brynjolf/F!Dragonborn - tumblr / AO3

Day 6 - Hot Chocolate - James Norrington/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 7 - Porch Swing - James Norrington/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 8 - Rainy Day - Theodore Groves/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 9 - Massage - James Norrington/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 10 - Playing With Hair - James Norrington/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 11 - Sweet Tooth - Cullen Rutherford/F!Inquisitor - tumblr

Day 12 - Fire & Ice - Aemond Targaryen/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 13 - Reading Together - James Norrington/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 14 - "I hate it." "No you don't." - Cutler Beckett/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 15 - Emergency, Confession, Adventure - Jack Sparrow/OC - tumblr

Day 16 - Singing Each Other to Sleep - Thorin Oakenshield/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 17 - Encouraging Someone to Achieve a Goal - Eddie Munson/OC - tumblr Day 18 - "Did you plan for this to happen?" - James Norrington/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 19 - Keeping Someone Safe - Vilkas/F!Dragonborn - tumblr / AO3

Day 20 - Wearing Each Other's Clothing - Boromir/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 21 - Swoon - James Norrington/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 22 - Picking - Boromir/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 23 - Trinket - James Norrington/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 24 - [Melting Emoji] 🫠 - Aemond Targaryen/OC - tumblr

Day 25 - Nook - Cullen Rutherford/F!Inquisitor - tumblr

Day 26 - Fireplace - Boromir/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 27 - Outdoor Event - Cullen Rutherford/F!Inquisitor - tumblr

Day 28 - Soothing Touch - Ulfric Stormcloak/F!Dragonborn - tumblr / AO3

Day 29 - "Hey, wake up!" - James Norrington/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 30 - Self-worth / Self-love - James Norrington/OC - tumblr / AO3

Day 31 - "You told your parents?" - Arthur Morgan/OC - tumblr / AO3

find me elsewhere: AO3 ~ FF.net ~ long!fic masterpost