no time to waste
— the reader is an anxious overthinker, who believes uhtred could never love them back. good thing uhtred is well-versed in sneaking around and keeping quiet when he notices that they are confessing to hild.
word count: 1.3k words
tw: overthinking, anxiety, gn!reader
a/n: i don't post any fanfic for well over a few months and i come back with uhtred of bebbanburg? please excuse me. i love this man. also, don't @ me for disappearing. i'm sorry. life happens and it sucks. k, bye. that's all.
“i love him.”
the words spilled from your lips before you could even think to stop them. hild stopped what she was doing, slowly glancing up at you. she had suspected as much, but she never was for certain. it was one thing she had thought for months. however, it wasn't her place. she wasn't about to tell you how you felt. that was for you to figure out, and maybe at some point, tell her about it.
the nun pursed her lips, but eventually closed her eyes and softly sighed.
“then you must tell him.”
“tell him?”
your eyes were wide at the thought of telling uhtred of bebbanburg that you loved him. how could you?
he had lost so much, because of love and because of the whims of the soul—would the dane even give you a second glance? would he even show a sliver of interest in your saxon heart?
no, he wouldn’t.
you clenched your jaw. anything was possible. uhtred and his warriors had proven that on more than one occasion. but would it be the same with you? could anything happen to you? would he truly believe that you loved him?
most importantly, would he love you back?
hild leaned against the table, reaching out to take ahold of your hand.
“you must. life is too short. the good lord has shown us time and time again. tell him before it is too late for either of you,” she said, a soft smile adorning her features. "our hearts are made for love. we are not made to live life alone. i chose to give my love to god. but you... you should give your love to uhtred. i know you love him dearly. i've seen it for so long."
she was right. you knew it. but a part of you didn’t want to admit it.
life was short. you had lost so many people—neighbors, friends, almost every member in your own family. and you knew that it was the same for uhtred. if anything, he would understand that life was short. he saw warriors die more often than not. warriors that fought alongside him for so long only to die at the hand of a dane, or a saxon, or deadly flu. no one knew their end—no one knew when the love of their life would never wake up, staying asleep in perpetual darkness for the rest of eternity.
“what if he doesn’t feel the same?” you asked, pulling your hand away from the woman as anxiety pitted itself in your stomach.
you often had a problem with overthinking. today was no different for you.
“i think you’d be in for a surprise if you were to just speak to him,” she said. “if anything, it would do you some good to talk to him, even if you didn’t confess. you could find where your heart truly is and see if your head could follow it.”
“i know where my heart is… but… uhtred. he…” you trailed off, not watching as hild’s eyes grew wide. you would have continued, burying your face in your hands with a groan.
“uhtred what?”
that oh-so-familiar voice spoke right beside your ear. you flinched, head shooting in his direction, hands nearly slamming on the table underneath them.
the very man of your conversation stood there with that cheeky grin he always had.
“you’ve been talking about me?” he teased, sitting down beside of you and grabbing your cup of ale. “do tell. i’d love to hear it.”
hild silently excused herself, squeezing your shoulder as she passed by.
“i.. we were just… we were just discussing how you will be leaving again soon,” you said, looking up at him. you could feel your cheeks burn from embarrassment, although you didn’t know what you were truly embarrassed about. he didn’t know what you had really been talking about.
he grinned. “i think you’re lying.”
there’s no way he heard, right?
he downed the rest of your ale before he slammed the cup down on the table, his grin unwavering.
“i think it’s time the two of us talked,” he said. “if that’s what you’d like.”
"what would we even talk about?" you blurted. "there is nothing i need to tell you. is there something you've been needing to tell me?"
he raised an eyebrow, hands raised in mock defense.
"y/n, i am not here to interrogate you. i can tell when you're nervous. do i need to rough someone up?"
"what? do i need—no, i don't need you to rough anyone up," you replied, dejected as he continued to not confess his own feelings. if he confessed that he loved you, that would make everything much easier, right? he just needed to say it. then, you could say, i love you, too. uhtred was a psychic—he could read your mind. surely, he could. that would be so simple.
but when had your life ever been that simple?
it was as if the universe decided to throw you into the mud as soon as you were born. they were not about to let up, either.
you stared down at the table, silence floating thickly between the two of you.
uhtred let out a soft sigh. "i heard you," he said.
you paused for a moment.
you misheard him. yes, that was it.
"what?"
"i heard you," he repeated, this time his voice much softer. he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head to face him. "i heard what you said to hild."
your eyes began to burn as tears of embarrassment formed. you pursed your lips, eyes trained on his.
"and you did not think to lead with that?" you said, trying to keep your tears at bay. he did not need to see you cry. he already heard your most vulnerable confession. that was enough for one day.
you pulled away from his grasp, standing up in the process.
"y/n—"
"—i understand, my lord. you do not feel the same. you do not need to humor me."
"y/n."
"i will take my leave. we have a journey, and i need to prepare—"
"—y/n."
he stood up with you, hands cupping your cheeks to keep you from talking any more.
"please allow me just a moment to confess, as well," he said, frustration evident on his features.
you swallowed thickly, eyes not meeting his.
"like you said, life is short. the gods do not allow us any warning. they take. they take, and they never give..." he trailed off, his eyes trailing down to your lips. "but at times, they allow us to find the people we need. the people we love."
you paused, eyes darting up to his.
"uhtred?"
"i love you, too. i had planned on telling you in a more... appropriate manner, but as you can see, i needed to tell you before you believed the opposite."
your eyes widened. you did not mishear, this time. you heard him loud and clear.
he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips, restraining himself. he let go of you, giving you a faint smile.
"well, off you go. you do have to prepare for the morning, do you not?"
you froze in your spot, staring up at him in disbelief. without wasting another second, you leaned forward, a hand on the back of his neck. decency be damned—you pressed your lips to his, your lips molding perfectly together as he wrapped an arm around your torso.
your saxon heart had long been taken over by the dane, and you'd never trade it for anything... despite how unsure you were at the beginning of the night. you would have to say something about him eavesdropping, later. but for now, all you could think of was the fact that he was actually kissing you—and it wasn't in your daydreams.
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🌟Solstice | Yuletide 🌟
Osferth x Unnamed Female Character
Summary: Osferth celebrates the solstice with the pagans.
Content Warning: The drabbliest of drabbles
🎄Yuletide Masterlist🎄
Shame welled in his heart.
No matter how often he tried to look away, or thought of the Lord, Osferth could not bring himself to leave his sentinel beyond the forest clearing.
How long he’d stood there, he could not say for certain, but the moon had risen beyond the trees to its nocturnal rest. His feet in their leather boots, were numb. His mouth, dry, though whether this was due to leaving the inn so early or because of the sight before him, he too did not know.
The young monk saw the glow first. Through the tunnel of the trees, the honeyed light grew until it seemed the very forest was aflame. Yet the voices he heard were not fearful. Edging closer to the woodland border, he found they were jubilant. Laughter. Singing. Excited chatter.
Onward he walked, into the trees’ dark embrace. Beneath him, branches crackled and snapped with every tentative step. The noise of the party grew nearer. An enemy encampment perhaps? No, they would lie low prior to attack. Travelling goodsman and their crew? Surely they would be at the inn with everyone else in Aureberie.
The glow led him to the edge of the clearing at which he now stood, and the sight he beheld was like none he had seen, except in dreams.
A pyre of wood was set ablaze at the clearing’s centre, sparks breaking away from the flames and reminding him of barely remembered stories told by his mother long ago.
“Angels flying heavenward, little one.”
Even from where he stood beneath the bare trees, Osferth felt the warmth radiating from the glorious fire. Tendrils of flame violently licked the sky, its great roar growing in strength and drowning out the souls silhouetted against its light.
It was this, that truly mesmerised Osferth.
Dancing around the ring of flame, bodies writhed and twirled, all curve and sinew, flailing arms raised to the heavens with teeth gleaming in the firelight. Garlands of leaves donned their brows; holly and fir on beds of moss. For some, this was all they wore. Though this number was few, men and women alike danced about the pyre as naked as a babe.
Osferth watched, transfixed, as plump flesh and fat rolled, coiled, stretched and swayed.
Shame rushed to his breaches.
Round tummies, tender breasts, plush thighs. The flickering of firelight across the women’s soft flesh dizzied Osferth and, at last, he looked away.
Wolf’s eyes and an enigmatic smile. How long had she been there?
At once, Osferth reached for his sword.
“You are the monk they call Osferth?” The woman stepped forward, hands open in surrender.
“Yes.” His voice was firm. He had seen this woman before, about Aureberie since their arrival. The healer. She hummed at his answer.
“Please, let go of the sword.” Her voice was so gentle, so measured, that he did as she commanded without thinking.
A prickle ran up his spine. If she was the wolf, wily and tactful, surely he was the rabbit. Startled, wide-eyed. “How long have you been there?”
“Longer than you, Christian.”
“That is not what I mea-”
“I know what you meant.”
She stepped towards him and Osferth straightened, determined not to let her see his shame. To his great relief, her smile softened. “It is the solstice,” she nodded towards the pyre. “We are moving back towards the light.”
“Yes,” Osferth said. “It was the light that drew me in.” He had turned back to watch the gathering party.
“And what was it that made you stay?” The low timbre of her voice made him shiver, and, when Osferth looked at her, he saw she was right beside him.
“I think you know, lady.” He said, watching the flames dance in the reflection of her eyes. She nodded.
“Come, Christian,” she held out her hand in beckoning. Osferth took it, spellbound. And she led him, not towards the celebration, but deeper into the forest.
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The Coccham Company
Imagine: The Last Kingdom in a modern AU, in which the characters (not all of them) form a theatre company.
Introducing to you, wonderful people of tumblr:
And now, presenting, the members:
Each member has a something that they are known for:
Finan plays the playboys. Otherwise, everyone else keeps trying to set him up with Eadith. (It hasn't worked yet)
Sigtryggr and Stiorra are almost always cast as the lovers. It used to be Uhtred and Gisela who were the lovers, but Gisela sadly died. She is still kept on the official Coccham Company material, and everything Uhtred is in, he dedicates to her.
Beocca tends to be the old, wise man.
Ragnar is always composing/dealing with the music. He often directs their musicals
Aelflaed designs the costumes, while Haesten does the sets
Rognvaldr is usually the fool or the drunkard, sometimes joined by Finan and/or Sihtric
Hild is the Stage Manager, making sure everyone is where they need to be at the right time. She is joined by Osferth, and sometimes Young Uhtred.
There's more, but I haven't thought of them yet
There. The company has been introduced.
On behalf of the Coccham company, I welcome you to their performance of Romeo & Juliet.
If you want to see another play from the Coccham Company, drop an ask.
The more detail you add, the easier this is.
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