@jathis I sorta kinda said I would and I did it! With the beautiful Viking Hux that @jeusus made and that everyone loves to bits, there was of course a whole flood of HCs, including Techie, so it’s only right he gets his picture too 🙂
Owl, I hope this is along the lines of what you had in mind, and Jeu, I hope this is ok, cuz i couldn’t stop myself. I kinda went for something inspired by the black/white and gold thing you do so well, but tried to put it somewhere in my own style. Anyhoo, I think he is a very pretty boy.
He’s a teaser, is Arimitage Hux, and he’d probably have gone on awhile, all
prowling-white arms and legs crawling round their bed, braids trailing
and teeth nipping, but it’s been much longer than three months since
Ari’s fucked or sucked or loved.
So when he sees that pretty
pearl bead up on Kylo’s cock, more translucent than his own thin skin,
the Vik’ing gives up teasing and he opens his mouth…
(Story 1,000% inspired the Viking AU artwork of glorious @jeusus)
More Viking’s ahoy! This is a continuation from my last one here, and of course this is all based on @jeusus‘ arranged marriage AU here (if you haven’t seen it already then what are you even doing, go look!)
It was four
solid days before Kylo gathered enough courage to seek out Armitage.
Kylo was
aware that he had said some crass things, that he’d said things he really probably
should not have. He’d carried a light layer of guilt with him since, compounded
by the lecture he’d gotten from Leia once she’d heard what he’d done (the words
‘bull-headed oaf’ were said on several occasions). He knew it was wrong of him
too push too hard on Armitage at this point in their relationship, he’d seen firsthand
how off-kilter the Northerner felt so far away from his home. The longing look
Armitage had had in his eyes as his people had sailed away still haunted him.
Prompt : a gold arm-ring given as a reward for success in battle: Kylux Viking AU
(Also inspired by Jeusus’ two recent Viking AU artworks)
—————–
Ben kept his hand steady and slow as he used a spade to finish clearing the hard-packed dirt from the edge of the object buried beneath. Three days ago, the team had struck wood at a depth of seven feet, just where his research and analysis of aerial scans had predicted. They’d quickly marked out the orientation and length of the site, and excavated the soil evenly, making a pit almost seven feet deep, twenty feet long, and seven feet wide. Mitaka and his assistants were carefully sifting through all of that dirt for any fragmentary artefacts that could be used to date and identify the site.
Going by what he could see of the wooden structure that he had already managed to clear the earth away from today, he was certain that what they had found was a ship burial, probably Anglo-Saxon. He was now working in an area right in the middle of the ship, each turn of his spade bringing something with a curved edge free of the ground that had covered it for centuries. He patiently followed the curve around until it was plain that he was looking at the remnant of a round shield, its metal boss and rim rusted into clumps barely distinguishable from the dirt still caked on them. He gently lifted it free and passed it up to be placed in a tray and wrapped to prevent accelerated degradation now that it was exposed to the air.
A few scrapes more began to reveal the outline of what had to be a sword, and elation began to outweigh caution – this was definitely a ship burial, and all the evidence suggested that it was intact. A find of this level of rarity and possible historical significance would make his career. He finished detaching the sword from the ground and decided it was time to call his thesis supervisor at Oxford to let her know what they’d discovered thus far.
Two hours later, he was methodically (and respectfully) working his way up the scant skeletal remains of the leader or warrior whose gravesite this was, when a flick of the brush he was using to clear debris delicately from the humerus revealed a glint of metal undimmed by the passage of time. A few more flicks and most of it was exposed: a finely woven gold armband, and it was not Anglo-Saxon as he had been expecting, but Viking. An inexplicable feeling of sadness came over him and he could not stop himself from reaching out to touch the armband, almost with reverence. Who were you? he wondered. The slamming of several car doors broke this reverie and he heard the voice of his advisor.
“Ben? Ben, come up out of there. I’ve brought someone to see your find.”
He stepped lightly up and out of the pit and as he turned to greet the visitors, his gaze locked with that of an unknown man; a chill passed through and over his entire body and he could not look away from the man’s green eyes or his halo of red-gold hair.
“Ben, I’d like you to meet Armitage Hux – he’s with the British Museum.”
—————–
Armitage yanked his sword from the side of the Mercian warrior he’d just slain and quickly scanned the roiling melee of men and horses for Kylo. It was obvious to him that the tide of the battle had turned in their favor. Just as he caught sight of Kylo, one of the Mercians spotted his chance to take down the prince and struck at his unprotected back. Everything slowed down and the sounds of swords and axes and pikes striking shields and bodies died away as Armitage sprinted across the few yards that separated him from Kylo. He ran practiced fingers over the bleeding wound then gently turned his husband over onto his back. Kylo was conscious but keeping his eyes tightly closed against the pain. Saying only “I will return,” and checking that the prince’s men were prepared to remove him from the battlefield, Armitage rose to his feet with cold clarity of purpose.
The man who struck his husband down would not live to see another hour. His husband, whom he had not wanted to wed, not wanted to know, not wanted to care about. But his wyrd, his fate, said otherwise. His hand tightened its grip on his sword and his other arm raised slightly to tilt his shield slightly outward from his body as he surveyed the tumult in search of the one who had dared to strike Kylo…and there he was. In utter calmness and with a singularity of intent, Armitage ran, sword arm raising in preparation to strike. Slashing, stabbing, thrusting…the enemy warriors between him and his prey were mere obstacles and scarcely registered in his awareness as he cut them down. He batted down another one who had rushed up aside him with the edge of his shield and stalked forward into the now empty space around the Mercian.
Righteous energy suffused his body and he knew the gods were with him as he ran the man through with one vicious upthrust of his sword. He put his booted foot on the body to hold it down while he drew his sword out and only then did he slowly become aware that the battle had ended. There were no more sounds of fighting, only the groans of wounded men. Uneasily, he realized that all the men – men of Mercia and men of Wessex alike – in his vicinity were staring at him. The iron scent of blood was thick in his nose; looking down, he saw with shock that he was almost entirely covered in it. He ignored the awed and horrified whispers of “berserker!” and walked away from the killing grounds, thinking only of finding Kylo again and making sure that he was safe, and stayed safe.
“Armitage. I have something for you,” Kylo said. The wound has healed well over the past few months, Armitage thought with satisfaction as he surveyed the naked form of his husband. Firelight gilded the sheen of sweat that picked out the contours of his muscular back where he lay, sated, on the furs of their bed.
Kylo rolled over and retrieved a woolen pouch from the low table beside the bed. The little gold rings braided into his hair clinked softly against each other as Armitage sat up, very curious now to see what was in the bag. Kylo opened it and pulled out a finely woven gold armband, and it was not Anglo-Saxon as he had been expecting, but Viking – from his own people.
“As I understand it, this is a mark among your people of a warrior’s brave deeds and battles won,” Kylo said, a little shyly. “You saved my life and rained terror upon the Mercians they’ll not soon forget…you have given up so much of your own ways to live here with me, so I wished to honor you after the fashion of your land.”
“Oh…Kylo.” For a moment, he could not speak. He took the armband and ran his thumb over the intricate pattern of gold wires. He opened the clasp and wound it around his upper arm, leaning over for Kylo to refasten the closure.
“I shall never take it off.”
Holy shit, I love the different takes on that AU but this one shot here put my heart into its little hands and squeezed really hard
So a couple of days I go I wrote this for @jeusus‘s magnificent viking Hux and the support I got was kind of overwhelming and a lot of you seemed to want me to write some more so uh, have whatever this is I guess? (under a readmore cause it’s a little longer than I want to put on some unsuspecting person’s dashboard >.<)
(also sorry Jeusus I wrote this before I read your headcanon post so I know some things don’t quite match up but I hope that’s okay!)
Kylo, too
his credit, had tried to be a gracious host for the man who would become his
husband. He had taken the wild creature into his home, placed him at the dining
table and served him food, a meal of delicious fruits and cheeses. He had tried
to make small talk with him, tried to get to know him before they were to be
officially wed.
dispatches from the dumpster 