— FINAN AND SIHTRIC COMPETING FOR YOUR AFFECTIONS WOULD INCLUDE ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
table of contents; fluff, banter, reader is living my dream, finan being his cocky self, sihtric is ever the gentleman, this is lwk canon af, suggestive in places, so much testosterone, finan is a grumpy ole man, just sit back and bathe in the delulu. (it’s a river in tumblr)
— HOW IT STARTED.
finan saw you first.
you were going about your day, minding your business as you served ale to your customers like you always do, when you caught his eye.
he’d been staring, his dark eyes watching your every move the way a cat would stalk a mouse.
“what are you looking at?” asked his friend, mismatched eyes following those of finan to seek out what had occupied his undivided attention.
sihtric saw you second.
“she is beautiful.” observed sihtric, to which finan grunted in agreement.
then the irishman frowned. “i saw her first.”
“i saw her second.”
we’ve already established that.
and so the battle commenced.
there would be a feast that night. music; dancing; ale and wine; women.
the two men glared at one another, pumping out their chests.
“ya only want her ‘cause i do.” finan accused, narrowing his eyes.
sihtric smirked, oddly-coloured eyes darting to you, then back again. “i would have spotted her eventually, my friend.”
“well i spotted her immediately,” finan countered, thumbing the leather of his doublet. “how many times do i wonder ya’ve seen her before and not batted an eye — blue or brown?”
the dane scoffed, thumbing his own leathers as he shifted his feet. “i think i would remember a lady like her, finan.”
“funny,” finan took a step nearer. “i don’t recall seeing her around. i’d remember her, too.”
sihtric quirked the brow that bears a scar beneath it. “uh-huh, what is her name?”
“. . .”
“. . .”
“well i don’t know that yet, do i?” finan chided, a little too defensive. “ya little runt.”
“can i get you lads anything?”
they both jumped at the melody of your voice, finan’s hand flying to his chest while sihtric gazed down at you with bulging eyes.
you gave them a strange look, lips smirking. “did i scare you?”
once finan regained his composure he cleared his throat and leaned against the bar, eyes soft. “you could never scare me, lady. please, excuse my friend,” he leaned forward to whisper the next bit. “he’s not great with women.”
you shot a glance at sihtric who rolled his eyes at the irishman.
“ale?” you offered, jug in-hand.
sihtric parted his lips to speak, but finan turned to him with sour features and hissed. “i saw her first.”
then he returned his gaze to you. “i’d love one, sweet lady.”
you smiled and filled his cup. “and you?”
“i would also love one.” sihtric propped his elbows atop the bar as you poured him some ale, eyes wondering over your face.
“it is rude to stare, my friend.” finan scolded him, which earned him a giggle from you. he smirked, proud. “and get ya mucky elbows off the lady’s bar.”
sihtric only motioned to finan’s own arms which were bent against the oak, then uttered his thanks when you slid the cup into his open hand.
“what is your name?”
finan scoffed at the dane’s question. “smother the poor woman, why don’t ya?” though he was only annoyed he hadn’t asked you that first.
you looked between them with a smile, then gave your name. sihtric grinned at you, igniting a flutter within your stomach. “a pretty name for a pretty lady. please, call me sihtric.”
he offered his hand and you took it, only to flush deeply at your cheeks when he turned it in his palm to kiss it. “and this here is finan.”
the man in question glared at sihtric through a swig of ale, then turned to you. “i would kiss your hand, lady, truly i would. only, i don’t know where my friend’s mouth has been. . . on many other women, i reckon.” he leaned closer to murmur, “if i were you, i’d wash ya hands.”
“thought i was not great with women?” sihtric nudged him. “do not listen to him, lady. he is a jealous little man.” he leaned closer also. “but i am not.”
finan took another sip, then forced himself between sihtric and the counter. “i saw you first.” you chuckled at that, resting a hand at your hip.
“and i do not think ya pretty, i think ya beautiful.” then he glanced back at sihtric as if to say ‘hah.’
“would ya dance with me tonight?” he asked you, and behind him sihtric huffed.
you took your lip between your teeth, eyeing each of the men as they awaited your answer. “the tavern will be busy, but if i find the time, then yes, finan, i’d be honoured to dance with you.”
he pushed himself away from the bar with a grin, the masculinity that festered between them almost as potent as the stale air of the alehouse.
“i will see you boys later.” you said with a smile, then left them to their bickering.
they both wished you farewell at the same time, then exchanged standoffish expressions once you’d gone.
“you only did that because i was winning.” sihtric grumbled, drinking from his cup.
“i was going to ask her anyway. it’s like i said, old friend,” and finan took a gulp from his own. “ya not great with women.”
“at least i asked her name.” the dane shot back.
“i was going to ask her for her name before ya interrupted me.” snapped finan, his brow wrinkling.
sihtric finished his drink, then clapped a hand to the irishman’s shoulder. “so it begins, then.”
finan shrugged his hand off. “so begins nottin’. she’s mine, you’ll see.”
“for now, maybe.” sihtric leaned toward his ear. “soon we will see who is truly great with women.”
as he sauntered away, finan watched him with a face like a slapped arse. “ya just a baby!” he called after him, then sunk his weight against the counter. “i saw her first.”
“might i have this dance?”
you turned at the voice’s familiarity, the steel tankard in your hand squeaking as you polished it. “still competing with your friend for the first dance?”
“well, i asked first.” finan reminded you with a cheeky glint, a far less predatory gloss to his eyes this time.
you nodded and returned the tankard to its shelf, then leaned against the counter. he mirrored you, leaving a small gap between your faces.
“like how you saw me first?”
“precisely,” he glanced around, then turned to you again with that same mischievous gaze. “i think ya can retire from ya duties to join me for a moment.”
the bar was empty, save for you. everyone else was dancing or drinking or both. “i think i can, too.”
so he led you into the space where people swayed to the music, lost within themselves and each other.
“ya look beautiful.” he told you, one hand landing at your waist whilst the other took yours in his.
“why, thank you.” you gushed, resting your other hand atop his shoulder.
you moved in time with the song — a slow, steady beat. he pressed you to him, holding you close. over his shoulder you caught sight of his friends, a familiar face standing out from the rest.
sihtric watched you behind his alehorn, not drinking from it, but rather trying to conceal his thoughts. you could read them just fine; his expression did him little justice.
“your friend appears thwarted, to say the least.”
finan did not need look to know. “he is not known for taking defeat so lightly.” he hovered his lips at your ear, breath tickling it. “just another reason why i am the better choice.”
“i see.” you lifted your fingers from his shoulder to give sihtric a small wave. the gesture was not returned, his focus solely pinned on shooting daggers at the back of finan’s head. “he is not happy.”
“let him stew in his misfortune.” finan gave your back a light pat, regaining your attention. “and let us enjoy ourselves.”
you challenged him with an arch of your brow and a broad, goading smile. “you hardly know me. do you think my affections are won so easily?”
“i know ya enough.” he retorted with practiced charm. with a silver tongue such as his, it was small wonder to you how he survived so much. “and i plan to become acquainted with ya all the more, if i may.”
you glanced at sihtric again, his eyes fixed to yours and finan’s interlaced fingers. “you may.”
— HOW IT PROCEEDED.
you’d never known such attention, especially not all at once. it got to the point that you contemplated asking uhtred he put the two men on leashes.
“finan, i can manage.” you griped as you heaved a barrel from the wine cellar.
“are ya sure?” he asked, arms at the ready should you changed your mind.
you huffed, eyeing the man. “very sure.”
“here, allow me.” offered sihtric, reaching for the barrel.
“thank you, but that’s quite alright.” you rebuffed, wishing they’d stop badgering you.
“you heard the lady,” finan folded his arms. “she said she could do it. are ya questioning her ability to move a barrel, sihtric?”
you groaned, on the verge of banning them both from your tavern.
“i am simply concerned for her wellbeing,” his friend parroted back. “those barrels can be heavy.”
“so are ya questioning her strength?” finan continued to stir the way he would when he felt sihtric had, how he’d say, the upper hand.
“you tried to carry it first.” sihtric shot back with his usual sass. “you are usually the first to point out how you are the first.”
“so childish.” finan said with a tut, then turned to you. “such a man-child. ya cannot be doing with that, sweet lady.”
you scrubbed at your eyes, hands dropping when you could finally face them again. “listen—”
“he started it!” sihtric blurted, pointing at the irishman who looked between you with a shake of his head.
“see now, i would never snap at ya like that—”
“right, both of you out.” and you herded them toward the door. “come back when you have grown up.”
finan began to chime in but you held up a silencing hand. “no, i have heard enough.” you told him sharply. “out.”
sihtric sniggered.
“i am angry with you, too.” you told him with a jab of your finger.
his face dropped and you slammed the door before he could pipe up.
“now look what ya did.” finan hissed, delivering a smack to the back of his head.
and then there was the time the door to the tavern just ‘came loose’. to this day you’re certain one of them loosened the hinges on purpose.
“my sweet lady,” finan announced, opening and closing the door a few times, then gave it a tug. “it would seem this door has seen better days.”
“you did slam it rather hard.” sihtric voiced, barging finan from his way to inspect the hinges.
“yeah, ‘cause of you.” finan grumbled, batting the dane’s hands away. “ya don’t even know what you’re looking at, little dane.”
“i am taller than you.” sihtric quipped.
finan tsked at that. “by a finger nail, perhaps.” and stuck his middle finger up.
sihtric swiped for it. “how many doors have you fixed, anyway?”
finan threw him a sidelong glance, then gave the door an ‘expertly’ tap in several different places, pressing his ear to the wooden face of it. “ah, i know what the problem is.”
sihtric glared at him, incredulous. “what are you listening for?”
“it has woodworm.” finan concluded, thumbing his belt as he turned to you. “an easy fix, if i may, my darlin’.”
“woodworm.” sihtric scoffed. “you made that up.”
“everything was made-up by someone.” the irishman retorted.
you smirked at their exchange. “what is woodworm, finan?”
“it is a wood-eating infestation, my dear woman. it burrows into the timber, ya see,” he pointed at the door, but at no part of it in particular. “nasty things, so they are.”
“you do not talk like that,” sihtric remarked. “you read that in a book, didn’t you?”
“at least i can read.” replied the irishman lowly.
“how did it get in there, then?” sihtric challenged, arms folded.
finan blinked, then squinted at the man. “in all manners of ways, i’ll have ya know.” he took a step toward him. “care to explain in which manner my foot ended up your arse?”
sihtric snorted. “your foot is not up my arse.”
“not yet.” finan leered.
“you are funny, finan.” the blue and brown-eyed man took a step forward, too. “if you are looking for a stick, i might know where you lost it.”
“spose i should start looking at my lovely lady’s backside where i’d be sure to find yer lips, ya little arse-kisser.”
“children, children, please.” you wrenched an arm between them and they backed away from one another. “fix my door, if you must, then kindly be on your way. i have much to do and would rather do it without your squabbling.”
they glanced at you; then at each other, stared the other down; then both raced for the door.
you watched them fight over the hinges, trying to jam their hands into the small gap whilst shoving each other in the side.
it was like watching two kids fight over a slice of cake.
then finan snapped his hand back with a wince, cradling his fingers. “ya did that on purpose, ya shite!”
“i did not!” sihtric placed a hand over his chest, feigning shock or even offence. “you are clumsy.”
“they call me finan the agile, not finan the clumsy.” he growled. “i dance around men on the battlefield, y’know.”
“well, work your magic, by all means.” sihtric took a step away from the door. “dance.”
you shushed them and took finan’s hand in yours, assessing his fingers. “well, they are not broken.” you told him, stroking them gently. “but swollen, yes.”
“he could have crushed them.” finan mumbled, laying it on thick. “ya don’t want to let a finger-crusher court ya, lady.” he kissed his teeth. “bitter little man.”
“if i were truly courting her, it would not be her fingers that risked injury.” sihtric deadpanned, though the implication made you blush all the same.
“and you keep calling me little,” he went on, smirking over his shoulder. “you are the one with small man syndrome. i know this because you display every symptom, friend. temper-tantrums, a fuse almost as short as you, and the like.”
finan huffed out through his nostrils. “by a finger nail.”
you shook your head, adjusting his fingers within your grip. “can you bend them?”
“of course, i can, sweet’eart. we irish aren’t so brittle.” and he bent his fingers in front of your face, then booped your nose. “gotcha.”
“you put your fingers in the way because it is the only way you can get the lady to hold your hand.” sihtric accused, wobbling the door in its frame.
“ya just shitting y’self ‘cause a bruised ego isn’t so easy to tend to.” finan quipped, then leaned down to murmur. “he has chased so many other women, ya see. now he has many wounds from his attempts to show for it.”
sihtric muttered something under his breath, still struggling with the door.
“such a shame that he’ll soon have a broken heart to accompany them.” finan chortled, then let out a pained noise when you bent one of his fingers back.
“be nice.” you berated, then approached sihtric. “those women must have been blind.”
the younger man smiled down at you, finally freeing the door from its rusted hinges.
“what’re ya doing?!” finan marched up to him, conveniently placing himself between the two of you. “why did ya take the whole bloody thing off?!”
sihtric looked at him like he’d been asked to recite the alphabet backwards. “you said it had worms.”
“it’s not a physical worm, ya absolute menace.”
“finan is right.” you laid a hand atop his shoulder. “they are beetles.”
they turned to regard you with expressions that alternated between both surprise and perplexity.
“how d’ya know that?” finan asked, genuine.
“because i know what woodworm is,” you told him with an amused smile. “and my door does not have it. if it did, you would see the damage.”
finan opened and closed his mouth again with a furrowed brow, then you turned to sihtric. “please, put my door back.”
“yes, go on. very bad manners to rip a lady’s door off.” finan told him with a wag of his finger. “he is heavy-handed, always has been.” he drawled, low like a murmur.
“you said it had worms.” sihtric hissed, trying to realign the door.
“i said it had woodworm which is a beetle.” finan corrected with a smirk.
“well you were wrong.” then sihtric switched his glare to a sweet smile when he looked to you. “do not fret, my fair lady, i will fix it.”
“with what? hopes and prayers?” finan pushed him aside. “let me handle this.”
you ended up having to replace the door entirely and fitted it yourself whilst they watched.
oh and how could you forget about the bouquet debacle? you’d never received so many flowers.
“those are pretty flowers.” sihtric had observed one day, nodding to a cluster of floral wildness that sprouted from the soil before him — each petal differing in shade from the last.
“so they are.” finan agreed.
they looked at each other, then the flowers, then each other again. there was a pause, then the two men dove for the bloom, hands wrestling for their stalks.
“find your own flowers!” sihtric seethed, clenching them in his palm while his free hand tried to pry finan’s away. “and do not tell me you saw them first.”
“how do ya know i didn’t?” finan grunted, digging his boots into him.
but it was the dane who prevailed. he leapt to his feet, bouquet raised tauntingly. “you got to dance with her, it is only fair.”
finan rolled onto his side, dusting his front down. “that’s fine, some men do not need flowers to impress a lady. make it your apology gift for breaking her door.”
“i helped her mend it.” sihtric defended, wiping bugs and dirt from the flowers.
“ya did not,” finan took to his feet. “ya got in her way until she kicked ya out.”
sihtric narrowed his eyes at him. “you hammered the nails in upside down.” he waved his hands around, exasperated. “how do you even hammer something that only has one sharp end in upside down?”
“i was distracted by her beauty.” finan grinned, arms spread out at his sides.
“she cannot hear you, you know.” grumbled the former.
so that night, sihtric presented you with the bouquet—a little bent and misshapen—but you appreciated the gesture, placing them in a vase along with the others that both men had offered you over the weeks. you’d acquired quite the collection; the tavern never smelled so nice.
and finan arrived soon after, unveiling a fresh loaf of bread. “here,” he’d said. “a lady who works so tirelessly must keep her strength.”
your stomach growled at the sight and you took it in both hands, very thankful indeed. “oh, thank you! i will get some bowls. please, eat with me.”
the irishman grinned, triumphant. he was absolutely considering it a date. but his smile faded as soon as it came when you invited sihtric to join you.
when you disappeared to the kitchen, sihtric threw an angry finger at the man. “you do not bake.”
“i never said i do.” finan sighed, helping himself to a jug of ale. “you did not grow those flowers.”
“no, but i picked them personally.”
“and i bought that bread personally.”
the only time the pair of them saw eye to eye when it came to you, was when you dared to spike another man’s interest.
“are you seeing what i’m seeing?” sihtric nudged his friend.
“i am.” finan answered into his cup.
“she is laughing.” sihtric panicked, shifting in his seat.
“yeah, at him.” finan slammed his cup down, straightening in his chair to watch more closely. “he is making a fool of himself, surely.”
they both watched from afar, faces thunderous when the man touched your arm. you didn’t back away.
sihtric shook his head, jaw ticking. “i think she is enjoying his company.”
“so the man has jokes,” finan was practically seething. “so do i.”
you indeed were laughing when they approached, though on closer inspection your laughter seemed forced and solely at the man’s expense.
two gravelly throats cleared themselves behind him and he turned, jumping a little. “can we help you?”
you smiled, then took that as your opportunity to escape.
“no, but you can.” sihtric told him, hand poised at his sword’s hilt.
the man glanced at it, then back up, gaze flitting between them. “and how might i do that?”
“by leaving.” finan jutted his chin in the door’s direction.
the man frowned. “i don’t understand—”
“i do not think we can make it any clearer.” sihtric warned, slicing at the words with his tongue.
finan took a step nearer, expression fierce. “we could arrange to have ya carried, big man.” the threat was delivered icily, so much so that the man shuddered.
he never bothered you again.
— IF YOU CHOSE SIHTRIC.
it was probably through rather traditional means. with uhtred’s blessing, he vowed to wed you before he bed you.
he would not wait long before taking you for his wife. the battle for your heart had been a tedious one, perhaps the toughest he’d ever fought.
might as well make it official before his god.
but it had been uhtred who took it upon himself to hurry things along. “sihtric, loyal friend, we cannot bear these longing looks of love much longer. wed the girl, of this i actually beg. you know i do not beg.”
it made sihtric laugh, deep and from the pit of his chest. “lord, i fear the longing looks will not stop with marriage.”
finan, to your surprise, was not as sore of a loser as you’d expected. you broke the news of your decision to him gently out of fear he might kill his opponent, but if anything, he took it on the chin like it merely inconvenienced him.
he took sihtric’s hand, then clasped his shoulder with the other. “ya fought well, my friend. i guess all that arse-kissing paid off.”
sihtric chuckled, genuine and hearty. “it did, friend. she will be my bride, finan. that means you will not have to worry about losing to me next time.”
the irishman guffawed and drew a cross over his chest with his fingers. “well, thank the lord for that.”
of course, he still held a torch for you. a flame like that is not so easily extinguished. on the odd occasion, finan would throw a wink or a flirtatious comment your way; harmless, and no doubt to soften the blow of seeing you at his best friend’s side every day.
he might remind you of what you could’ve had, but sihtric would soon shut him up with a stern glare.
so they drank to it like men, both of them secretly relieved that their little contest had come to an end, which in the grand scheme of things was pretty silly.
“i let ya win, y’know.” finan jeered through a mouthful of ale.
“well then i must thank you, finan,” sihtric grinned. “thanks to your act of virtue, it is me who gets to hump her, not you.”
“virtue?” finan grinned. “a big word for a dane. where’d ya learn it?”
“it is not that big.”
“y’know what else isn’t that big?”
sihtric huffed. “please, do not say my cock.”
— IF YOU CHOSE FINAN.
you went to sihtric first, letting him down gently. he did not try to hide his disappointment but he smiled and said, “the heart wants what it wants. i wish you both happiness, sweet lady. and my friend deserves a woman as kind as you. finan, he can be a lot, but he will never harm you.”
so you went about seeking out the irishman, though you always hear him before you see him.
and when you told him the words he’d been yearning to hear since the moment his eyes first found you, he ravished you in a way one might inhale a mutton chop amidst starvation.
a man starved, he certainly was.
he had not been with a woman since meeting you, and with a sex drive as high as his, he was pleased he had not deprived himself for nothing.
to put it simply, he did not wait until your wedding night to hump you.
if anything, it was uhtred who encouraged him to elope before he impregnated you. “finan, the two of you are like rabbits in spring. for the love of what is good and pure, marry the poor girl.”
and so he did. and before long, there were many mini finans running around to remind sihtric of his loss.
but we all know that any woman in her right mind would have chosen both.
