#the last kingdom au

[misguidedasgardian]

The Last Raid

MASTERLIST

Summary: You are a norsewoman, a Viking shieldmaiden from Norway, you were riding with the brothers Erik and Sigefrid, when Uhtred takes back the princess the army disbands, and you go on your own. 

Pairing: Osferth x Shieldmaiden!lreader 

Warnings: TLK AU, war, death, smut, profanity, religious themes, pagan rituals, and much more

Wordcount:  1.5 k

Notes: Is this a story? or a one shot? nobody knows hehe 

The army of Danes that you were riding with had been annihilated, completely destroyed by the army of King Alfred and the command of Uhtred the Daneslayer, that is what you got for making an alliance with the Danes, you should have stayed with your people, with the Vikings from the North, from Norway.

After someone in the middle of the fight hit you in the head, you fell limply in the middle of the battle, when you regained your bearings, you could only see what was left of your “army” running for the hills, leaving you alone. 

So you decided to go your own way, you didn’t fit with them anyways, but now you were alone, you luckily had time to gather your things, your horse and your weapons before the camp was completely destroyed. You rode until you came across a huge river, you didn’t have a clue of where you were, but you needed to wash away the blood from your enemies and the dirt from the fight.

You haven't come across anyone so you gathered you were alone, so you discarded your coat of mail, the leather shirt underneath, your boots and your thick leather pants, you only left the long shirt to cover in case someone did come along. You didn’t even have the heart to undo your braids. 

You let yourself relax as you cleaned your face from the dirt and dried blood, you even submerged your head under the water, and when you emerged you let yourself hear the birds chirping from afar and even though the water was freezing, it was beautiful, calm, peaceful.

Were you going to try and make a life here like your grandfather had intended? you were growing weary of the fight, you wanted to settle, to plant, to farm, to have a house of your own with a big hall in which you could gather your friends and family… which you were lacking.

If you came close to one of those Saxon villages, would they let you stay? Would they give you a job? or would they hate you and pursue you for being a Viking?, the only settlement the vikings from Norway had in England had been destroyed, to find more of your people was going to be difficult… 

You were so deep in your own thoughts that when you noticed the presence behind you, it was too late. You turned around quickly and you tried to run to shore, to your belongings, to your axe and sword, but a smiling man stood right by them, his hand in his own sword, so you took a step back, in fear. 

You were still in the water, but you still had something. You extracted a small knife from a Garter you had tied in your thigh, and came face to face with four men. They had singular appearances, they did not look Dane, not at all, but they didn’t look Saxon either. 

“She is a Dane, Uhtred”, warned one, that by the looks of him and his accent, was one himself 

“Aren’t you a clever one?”, you mocked, “nothing escapes you, except, I am not a Dane” 

“With a sharp tongue”, mocked the one who seemed to be the leader

“She is pretty Lord”, said a blonde, with wide innocent eyes and strange clothes, they all laughed, they made your skin crawl and you tightened the grip on the handle of your blade

“Baby Monk fell in love!”, mocked the one that was near your things, perhaps you should take that one first, grab your ax, you could at least take another one with you, they did not had a bow, so, they will have to come close to you to attack you, you looked at the path you were going to need to run by, careful of the sharp rocks under the water. Three long jumps and you could take him…

You took one step and the one they called Uhtred raised his hand, you looked into his eyes and you could tell he had all but read your mind, looking at the path in front of you and then at his man.

“Finan”, he called, and then he also seemed to notice, and he took a defensive position, so your plan was ruined, then you looked at the other Dane, and then at the priest looking one, who would be easier to kill?

“We will not hurt you”, Uthred said, showing you his hands, you were surrounded, and they were four warrior men, you did not believe him

“Four men, one woman, I know how this ends”, you growled, you looked to your knife and even though you wished a glorious death in battle, taking your own life seemed a better choice than to be… taken by these men. So you turned your knife and turned it towards you

“There is not need for that”, said Uthred hastily, truly scared

“I think there is”, you said defensively, holding the knife to your own chest

“We will not hurt you”, their easy way of carrying themselves turned serious, all four men looking at you wide-eyed, “I give you my word”, he said, taking a step back, his men followed him, as a sign of peace, so you relaxed your stance, “who are you?”, he asked, looking at your things

“A Viking shield maiden”, you answered quickly, “From Norway”, you said looking at the one that called you a Dane

“What is your name?”, he asked

“(Y/N), Bjorndottir, daughter of Bjorn Ironside”, his eyes went wide, as the dane’s, he all but wanted to kneel

“Bjorn, King of Kattegat? King of Norway?”, he asked, you nodded, “I’m Uhtred”, he introduced himself

“I know who you are, Uhtred of Bebbanburg, or Uthred Ragnarson, or the Dane slayer, or the Godless”, you listed 

“You heard of me”, he said with a mocking smile

“I like to “hear” of my enemies”, you said, “or my leader’s enemies”, you continued

“This are my men, Finnan, Sithric, and Osferth”, he said pointing at each of them, you nodded, acknowledging them

“Why are you alone? I saw you in the battlefield”, said Finnan, “your army is far away by now, or what’s left of it”

“Those bastards left me for dead”, you said simply, “they only wanted me for my influence, that is gone now, along with my respect”, you said quickly, you relaxed the arm that held your knife 

“Where are you heading?”, Uhtred asked

“I don’t know”, you answered truthfully

“Where would you like to go?”, he asked then

“First? dry land, I’m freezing”, you said bitterly, and they all seemed to notice, and they took another stepback, Finan walking away from your things and standing by his leader, so you walked to your clothes, drying yourself with your bloodied shirt, and then disposing of it. 

“Do you mind?”, you asked, looking at them over your shoulder, and they turned around, so you could dispose of your wet dress, and changing quickly into clothes from your bag

Once you were comfortable, you turned to the men, who turned back to look at you

“So, you have something to eat?”, you asked

Two hours past, a fire was lit, the night had fallen, and you were roasting a couple of rabbits

“Why are you here? Bjorn Ironside is not in this country”, asked Sithric, you looked back at him

“My father is a bastard who left me me as soon as he noticed I was a girl and when he got tired of humping my mother”, you said dismissively, “He is terrorizing lands further than Frankia”, you saw them share looks

“So, why are you here?”, asked Uhtred

“I wanted to make a name for myself”, you confessed, “battles, glory, lands…”

“So, what happened?”, asked Finnan, by his accent, you realized he must have been from that country they called Ireland 

“Couldn’t find any of those things”, you said simply, “who would have thought that slaughtering farmers and their families was not going to be as glorious as everyone said?”, you mocked, “I don’t like it”

“What do you want?”, he insisted

“A land to sow, a house to live in… something quiet, but I do like a good fight, I guess… I’m a sellsword now”, you whispered looking at the meat between your greasy fingers 

“Pledge your sword to me”, he demanded, “fight for me and you can settle in Cuccham, the lands I’m the Lord of”

“I don’t want to kill more innocent people, or taking things I have not earned”, you said, as terms for your allegiance 

“Good, we will not have you do any of those things”, he said, certainly, you barely nodded, “we are not very elite men, Finan here was a slave when I met him, Sihtric if the bastard son of Kjartan, and the baby monk, is the bastard son of King Alfred, turned monk, and now turned sword”

“King Alfred?”, you asked, “And Earl Kjartan?”, they only nodded, “Alright, I like this, a group of misfits, bonded by loyalty, I like it”, you said, clapping your hands, “My sword is yours, Uhtred Ragnarson, as long as you not ask of me anything that will bring me dishonor” 

He only smiled, as did their men

#the last kingdom #uhtred #sihtric #osferth #sihtric kjartansson #finan #the last kingdom au #osferth x you #finan x reader #uhtred x reader #sihtric x reader #misguidedtlk

[arcielee]

Farewell Wanterlust

Warnings:  Sexism because it it the 9th century, tw: noncon, sexual assault mentioned, violent actions and torture describe. MDNI, 18+ Pairing: Osferth x OFC Word Count: 4107 Summary: Torn from her home country, Keavy finds herself trying to survive across the Irish sea. She happens across Uhtred and his motley crew, and finds herself befriending a monk who is determined to become a warrior.      Author’s Note: This will be a hybrid of the books and TLK show. The timelines will be adjusted for the plot and the names will match the Old English/9th Century. Please be mindful of chapter warnings as this shit will have dark moments and mature themes.     Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! Dividers are by @saradika​ ♥ Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aspen-carter @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @randomdragonfires @httpsdoll @triscy @assortedseaglass @whoknows333 @shesjustanothergeek​ @heavenly1927​ @greenowlfactif​ (bold for those I could not tag, but requested!) 

 Chapter 2

It had been ten days since the brothers, Erik and Sigefried, besieged Lunden. 

The city fell easily, which was something Keavy knew was inevitable from the mumbled worries of his lordship Æthelstan, something that he shared between her and his mug of ale. Though he had been baptized, she still saw the Dane that thrummed beneath the flesh and how it vibrated with that instilled knowledge, haunting him late at night to know that despite the structured wall that surrounded them, they did not have the manpower to keep it properly guarded. 

Keavy had been sent to Lunden after her refusal to join the nunnery in an official capacity. She was well aware of the weight of her decision, how it would uproot her, but the abbess did not fault Keavy for her choice; she knew this from the soft touch of her hand to her cheek that was not damaged, her simple gesture of understanding before she left Ebchester. 

She had grown into a strong-willed woman, both bright and vivacious. In all accounts, she was lovely as her mam claimed: she possessed womanly curves that pressed the seams of her simple frocks, with a milky white complexion and dark ringlets that billowed with her every determined step. 

Though Saxon men admired these physical traits, they all were overlooked the second their eyes fell to the parting gift from her mam. Her scar had healed dark, with blood red markings from the crude sutures that knitted the flesh together; it curled below her chin and stretched back towards her ear, with a second slash into her cheek downwards to her jaw bone. 

She was aware she was a gift for the baptism of Æthelstan of East Anglia but did not mind him; she was pleased to learn how he almost pitied her, which in turn allowed her a freedom within the city limits. He had noted right away how the Saxon men would be quick to look away with the superstitious whispers that she was a witch, some with a visible shudder, and were quick to disregard of her existence; he understood the blemish would allow her to be overlooked and she served as a set of eyes and ears amongst the cityfolk. 

Keavy ignored it all, their reactions, readily accepting her role and requesting to be trained alongside his men, so she could properly handle a sword. And he allowed it. 

It was a freedom she now mourned as she found herself pinned under the dark gaze of Sigefried these last ten days. 

The Danes had come under the cover of night and she awoke to the screams that rolled from the shores, echoing in the stone halls of the manor. She moved from the bed, throwing on her frock and cloak, grabbing her dagger and tucking the silver Celtic cross beneath her neckline. Keavy moved quickly from the castle, hiding in the shadows of the city as she made for her escape. 

She had come across a guardsmen, a young man she recognized from training in the courtyards, and he reached to take her hand. They moved together, quick and quiet amongst the bloodshed, slipping into an alleyway of cobblestone where they found a lone Dane taking a piss. 

The lad pushed her backwards, perhaps with a gallant effort to defend her but instead he was killed quickly. This distraction allowed her to draw her own blade and plunge it into the softness underneath the Dane’s jaw, far enough to gut his tongue so he could not scream. 

As she watched the blood seep between the stones, she thought back to the night when the slavers came and she knew from the haunting echo of slain screams that Lunden was lost. She wiped and sheathed her dagger, removing the silver cross, and wrapped both in her blood stained cloak. Keavy then picked up the sword and used it to lift some of the stones, burying it beneath, then dipping her fingers into the fresh blood that pooled and marking the stones.

She swore that she would survive this as well, that she would return for it, but if not, let it remain buried rather than be taken. 

Once she finished, a looming figure stepped to block her path. His face was shadowed and closer she saw his pupils were blown, which made his eyes as black as the night. He looked past her. “Did you kill them?” His tone gravely, and he said it with a smile that reached his eyes in a way that made her skin crawl. “You have killed one of my men so I ask how will you repay for this loss?” 

Her arms trembled with her grip on the sword, her fear rooted her stance but wavered under his dark eyes.  “I am not afraid to die tonight, Dane,” she spat back at him, but her bold tone cracked and betrayed her. 

His laugh was deep and reverberated around her. “I can see this,” and he was quick to close the space between them, knocking the steel from her grasp. It clamored to the stone and she felt his hot breath on her face. “You are not Saxon,” his larged palm grabbed her face and she felt the burn of her scar from his hold. “Do they teach their women across the Irish sea to fight?” 

She would not answer him, but she also did not look away. He only chuckled, his hand moving to grab a handful of her curls and pulling her as he made his way back towards the castle. Keavy grit her teeth, struggling to keep with his steps and ignoring the cheers from the Danes they passed as he took her to one of the rooms. 

Her fear now settled into her core, but she would not give the satisfaction of screaming as she knew still that no one would come for her. Lunden now belonged to the Danes and she knew her mam never considered that the marr given would not be a deterrent for their heathen cocks. 

It was fortunate and unfortunate how Sigefried seemed entertained by her stubbornness, her refusal to seek his favor and, in return, he would try and frighten her, to see the cracks in her practiced stoic mask. “When my cock tires of her, I will hump her with my good hand,” she once heard him say to his brother, the blonde Dane named Erik, and they laughed as he lifted his knifed arm.

Keavy just watched him with her steeled gaze, ignoring how her fear shuddered the length of her spine. I am cursed, she thought. Whatever faith the abbess tried to behest from the days spent in Ebchester died in the bed she was forced to share with the Dane. 

Each day dragged with her pettied struggle to remain alive. The Danes seemed insatiable in every sense, but she made sure to serve and refill their cups as the ale, which allowed her to slip from his grasp some nights, but the following day he would return his attention to her with a hungover vengeance. 

On the tenth day, she remained in the shadows of the courtyard, watching as the Danes nailed men to crosses. They were priests sent from Æthelstan to negotiate and the brothers treated them as sport. 

She watched, stone faced and her heart heavy, trying her best to block out their screams. Just the prior night she had been tasked to feed them and she managed to slip them apples from the orchid and hard cheeses along with the bread rationed for them. They begged her to free them but one had been quick to shush the men. 

“Do not risk their fury,” he warned her. His head was shaved, his beard haggard and his expression severe on his already hardened face; he made sure to thank her for the fresh fruit before she left them. 

Now she watched these same men with her solemn expression as they were nailed to the wood, the screams echoing throughout the courtyard. Keavy felt the eyes of Sigefried on her and he beckoned her closer; her steps felt heavy as she brought herself to stand behind and between him and his brother. 

“I still do not understand how this kills a man,” Sigefried casually commented, unaffected by their tortured cries. 

His brother shifted his weight, his unease more apparent. “Sigefried, take his head and be done with it,” and there was the hint of him pleading. 

“A cross kills a man slowly, lord, over days,” and their attention turned towards the same priest that spoke to her last night. In the sunlight, she saw the dirt on his face and the dark circles that framed his dark eyes. “It is both torture and execution.” 

“There,” his brother clasped his hand onto his shoulder. “You have your answer. Now take his head and be done with it.” 

And Keavy could no longer hear their exchange, her focus now fastened onto the men that walked towards them; her eyes watched the one who led them, his presence perking the interest of one of the heavier Danes that stood off to the side. 

“Uhtred Ragnarsson,” he announced. 

His very name breathed fire into her chest, a renewed flame for hope. 

Uhtred of Bebbanburg. 

Her mind returned to the stories that Lady Gisela had shared, how she swore of his honorable spirit. Keavy watched him like a beacon presented for her freedom. “Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg,” her voice rasped to interrupt and the eyes of the men fell to her, stopping the exchange they were having. “My lord, I know your lady wife.”

She saw that her words caught his attention and she burned under his hard stare, but before she could continue, she felt the backhand of Sigefriend catch her across her mouth. Her knees buckled and she fell back into the dirt, the taste of iron in her mouth, but she did not let it falter her words. “I owe her a debt, lord.”

As she prayed that the words would hold weight and take root, Uhtred peered at Sigefried. “Who is she to you?”

From behind, she saw the tension in his shoulders, but his response was nonchalant. “Just some Irish whore we found here,” his tone was sly with his following implication and it made her stomach curdle with disgust, “I have been having my fun with this one.” 

Her jaw steeled, another crack in her mask, and she could feel how she trembled from his words with a white fury that burned within. 

Uhtred paid her no mind, his focus remaining on Sigefried. “She seems irksome to you, but perhaps she would serve my wife better, to repay this debt owed,” a smirk played on his lips. “You claim bygones today and my family grows. The extra hands can be of better use than to play with your cock.” 

She burned, but she heard the dark chuckle of Sigefried. “She may frighten your children,” and he gestured to his jaw with cruel humor. 

“They have strong stomachs,” another voice spoke and her heart lifted with the familiar lilt of his diction. 

Keavy did not dare lift her eyes from the boots of the men that spoke of her like she was not present. Her chest tightened with her struggle to steady her breath and the silence rolled over them with a palpable tensity that stricken her bones. 

“Of course,” Siegfried began, his words were slow and heavy with venom. “As a gesture of goodwill.” 

For the second time in her life, she found her worth being bartered and then a large palm reached to grab her shoulder, shoving her forward. Keavy fell in front of them, catching herself on her hands and knees, and they burned from the impact. 

“Osferth,” and she looked up to see Uhtred watching her. “Take her to the docks and wait for us there.” 

“Yes, lord,” and a shadow stretched over her. She felt a hold that held no maliciousness, no ill intent, just the gentle touch that belonged to the man called Osferth. His slender fingers wrapped above her elbow and he helped her to her feet; she saw how he towered over her, how his eyes bore into her own.

His features, his jawline were sharp but she saw a kindness, a softness to the expression he held; it complemented his eyes, a color that reminded her of the spring days at Ebchester, when the sky was without a cloud to blemish the brilliant blue. 

Osferth began to pull her away from the crowd of men who now called for food and drink, and she followed him, her mind vibrating with the realization that she would soon be gone from this damned city. 

+ + + +

There was something almost akin with how the Irishman instructed his swordsmanship that reminded Osferth of the days he spent with his uncle, years ago. Finan was not as tall as him, but he was sturdy, with a surliness that peaked beneath his dark beard and his dark brow that furrowed above his scrutinous gaze; Leofric had a hardness that had been embedded into his demeanor and would edge into his timbre, whereas Finan’s lilt brought a comfort to his critiques. 

“You have a pretty solid foundation, but your stance is a bit lazy,” Finan chewed on some straw, reaching forward to correct his posture. “But if I was a betting man, I would guess you wouldn’t be killed right away.” 

They remained in Wessex for several days, indulging in the celebration with an insatiable want of women and ale. Sihtric remained knitted at the side of the same woman with auburn hair, while the rest were seated around a table, their cups overflowing and spilling into the wood as they crowed when they learned of Osferth and his virginity. 

He argued his time spent at the monastery hardly allowed women to flow through, but Finan would not hear of it. “There are things in life you must allow yourself, an almost right of passage for any man,” and it was the first time he noted a genuine grin beneath his beard. Finan grabbed the pitcher to refill his cup and Osferth took a grimaced sip, the taste bitter and burned down his throat. “Don’t worry, baby monk, you will learn to love it.” 

Uhtred offered insight about quality over quantity and Finan guffawed in his mug. He continued on about his wife, how when he saw her, he just knew. “With ale, you must accept whatever has been poured into your cup,” Uhtred swirled whatever liquor remained in his mug, “but a good woman is something you must be able to decipher and then cherish.” 

Osferth watched the hue of pink that washed over his cheeks, whether from his thoughts of his lady wife in Coccham or perhaps the ale. “How did you know, lord?” His naivety pressed.

Uhtred smiled at him, bringing his fist to thump against his chest. “It is in here, it is something that tells you.” 

Osferth remembered that moment when they were in the courtyard at Lunden, when he first saw her. 

They had left Wessex on horseback towards the shores of the Temes; Mercian lords had accompanied them and the boats were a reprieve from their ceaseless, loud complaints. They followed the river to the docks of Lunden that bustled with merchants, who seemed unaffected by the siege. 

They followed behind Clapa, who led a wide berth with his large steps as people parted to allow him to pass, and they pushed until they came to the courtyard, halted by the body crudely displayed upright on a cross. Their unease shuddered off when Finan spoke with certainty, “Tis’ a death, nothing more.”

Osferth found that the vulgar show of sacrilege vested a response instilled from his days at the monastery and he crossed himself, his dirty blonde locks spilling forward when he bowed his head for a quick, silent prayer for the dead man. 

The sun poured into the courtyard ahead and Danes were staggered around with a half-interest in the grotesque crucifixion demanded. The attention turned onto them and Osferth found himself fixated the moment he saw her, how still she stood in the Dane brothers’ shadows. 

There was a severity in her green eyes as she looked them over and they brightened with a familiarity, something that flickered across her pale features. She wet her pink lips before she dared speak out loud, claiming their attention as well as the backhand from the dark haired brother. Her knees buckled and she fell back, her lips now red with blood, her eyes burning. 

“Don’t do it, baby monk,” Finan growled, low, and he felt the touch of his hand to his stomach. Osferth realized his fists were clenched. “I see your eyes have not left her–let him handle it.”

Though the words did not ease his rigid stance, he remained rooted at the Irishman’s side, his eyes watchful. Osferth thought back of his last day at the monastery, the warm meal prepared for him and the comfort of the bed he had slept in for the prior eighteen years. The abbot had approached him to ask if he truly wished to leave this humble life behind and he had answered earnestly that he had to go. There was a pull from the echo of his uncle’s words that regaled Uhtred of Bebbanburg, how he was an honorable man, how he was a fair man, and this was what propelled his steps to leave this life behind. 

Destiny is all. 

And in the courtyard, he saw the personification of his uncle’s words with how Uhtred bartered with Sigefried to hand over this woman, with her eyes that burned. 

The Dane had shoved her forward and Osferth moved outside his volition towards her, breaking away from Finan and with the covered command from Uhtred to take her to the docks, a way to conceal his unprecedented action. Osferth helped her stand, pulling her away from the courtyard and the heathens that filled it. 

His steps were not hurried, but his long legs made for a long gait as he moved to exit the city, his hold on her hand keeping her in the wake of his steps as he pushed through the crowds. 

“Please, priest,” he heard her say and he peered over his shoulder, slowing his steps and watching her as she looked over the buildings they passed, her eyes almost frantic. “Please, before we leave, I must take what belongs to me.” 

Osferth stopped and turned to face her, his chin tilted down to look at her. He watched the rose coloring dust her fair cheeks and the tip of her nose, how the pink clashed with the scar that lined her cheek and jawline. His eyes returned to her own and he only said, “I am not a priest.” 

She blinked then tried to correct herself. “Forgive me, monk–”

“I am not a monk, nor a holy man any longer,” he interrupted, his brow knitting over his eyes. “I am simply Osferth,” he added and he felt a warmth that bloomed in his chest from how she peered up at him through her dark lashes; he admired the bright green of her eyes with a halo of gold that burned around her pupil with her stare. 

She watched him for a moment before she reached to take his hand, her palm dry and cool against his own. He allowed her to lead until she made a noise of recognition, moving down an alleyway until they came to where blood had clearly been split, with markings that burned dark against the stonewall. 

Without a word, she dropped to her knees, her fingers desperate to pull up the stones before he unsheathed his sword and offered its leverage. She finally unearthed a dark piece of fabric, almost black with the mixed stain of blood and soil that broke off in chunks as she unraveled to reveal a silver, detailed cross and a dagger. 

She first slipped on the necklace, tucking the pendant beneath her neckline, and then her fingers trembled with its hold as she tried to fasten the belt around her wait. There was a moment he wished to reach forward to help her, but instead he let his hand fall back to his side. 

When she finished, she turned to face him with her face flushed; he saw blood was smeared across her chin and she wiped her hands on her skirt, her dark curls limply falling to in front of her face. Osferth felt that warmth cradling his heart, but said nothing and offered his hand to her. He was pleased how she took it without  hesitation, how well it fit within his own, and they made their way towards the docks. 

Once outside the gates of Lunden, he felt he was able to take a deep breath, though the waste thrown on the shores were still rancid. “Wait here, lady,” he said, his tone low and kind, and he went to find a bucket of cleaner water and rags. 

When he returned, she only said, “I am no lady.” She dampened the cloth to wipe away some of the blood and dirt, her pearly complexion showing through the streaks. “You may call me Keavy.” 

He nodded, his eyes still watchful as she cleaned away the grime; his gaze trailed the scarring again, a deep blood red for the new skin. “Was he…” he began and he gestured to his jaw, “was he the one who did this to you?” 

“It was from before,” she answered and he saw how her hands fidgeted with the cloth. “Osferth,” she spoke his name slowly and he liked how it rolled with her Irish lilt, “have you been in service to Uhtred of Bebbanburg for a while?”

He shook his head, a small smile to his lips. “No, lady, only a few days now.”

“Just Keavy,” she corrected him with the slight tilt of her head and he burned from the tensity of her green eyes. “Do you think he has sound judgment? Is he a fair man?”  

He noted the trepidation of her voice and the concern that lined her question. “From what I have seen and learned about him, he is very just,” and he paused a moment before he added, “I will say that he is a man that respects honesty and will give it in return.” 

Her lips pursed in response and she nodded with the soft movement of her curls.

Osferth wished to reach forward and pinch a tendril between his fingers, to find his tongue and press for more, but instead he heard Uhtred call to them; they both looked to see him and the men in tow, making their way towards the docks. They split to their respective boats and Osferth stepped in, turning to take her hand and help her as she made her way forward to sit on the behind the stempost, where Uhtred now held onto. 

They rowed out with the collective grunts with each pull; Osferth felt the burn between his shoulder blades as they made their way against the flow of the Temes. A silence settled over the men until they seemed far enough from Lunden before Uhtred asked: “What is the debt owed to my wife?” 

Osferth looked up, watching how her shoulders wilted and then squared with her breath. “She saved my life, lord.”

Uhtred looked back at her with an amusement that played across his face. “How did my wife save you?” he clarified. 

“By allowing me to use her name to escape the Danes that held Lunden,” she admitted and then allowed a shaky exhale. “I knew her from when she stayed in Ebchester, until you came for her,” she added with one breath. 

“Ebchester?” Finan called from behind, his tone light. “Did you ever confess to Beocca that you killed a holy man?”

The men chortled and Osferth felt a sly smile of his own that widened when Keavy turned around to watch their response. Her relief was apparent and there was a glow with her smile, the dimples on the left side of her face exaggerated by her scarring.

She is lovely still, came the intrusive thought to his mind. 

“He is aware,” Uhtred called out over their laughter. “And he understands why it was warranted!” Their laughter swelled over their boat alone, while the Mercians followed silently in their wake as they made their way back to Wintanceaster.

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#the last kingdom #the last kingdom au #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #osferth #osferth fanfic #osferth fanfiction #osferth x ofc #we need more osferth fanfic #slow burn #farewell wanderlust

[sapphic-woes]

Sevika x Fem!Reader x Vi - The Knight, the Witch, and the Dane pt. 1

A/N: Don't ask me why;; I can't tell you. Here you are a saxon turned dane and a seer, working for your lord Vi...but you have a past :) (this is based off of season 3 of tlk)

Word Count: 2.5k. AO3 link

_________________

“You're perfect, Sev.” You whispered, planting a seed of hope in her. “No matter what your parents say.” 

In your own father’s meadow, the both of you lay, staring up at the clear blue sky. Sevika turned to look at you, and she thought to herself that the sun couldn't compare to your smile. 

“Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. To me…” Those turned up lips and pearly whites scorched her heart, branding your initials over the organ. It pained her something sweet, and as she listened to the bells of your laughter, the servant girl thought to herself that her heart would always burn for you.

“You are, and always will be, my greatest frie–”

Sevika snapped her eyes open, and she wished she could close them and see you again. How long will I hold on? Too many years had passed since she’d lost you. In the blazing heat of the fire, and the destruction of your hometown…

“Sevika! Stop sleeping in and come out–those heathen Danes aren’t going to kill themselves!” Sevika squinted to the sound of Vander's boisterous voice, much too energetic this early in the morning. Regardless, she rose, doing her daily routine before slipping into her armor and walking out the door. Immediately, she was met with an arm around her bicep, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Ran's cocky grin.

“Damn Vika, you look like shit. Couldn’t sleep?” Sevika shrugged, somewhat bent over as she let Ran stir her towards breakfast. As they walked through the various halls of Wessex's palace towards the knight's dining hall, the groggy woman sighed.

“Something like that.” These dreams only served to sap her energy, waking up either panicked, soaked in sweat, or longing for a girl she knew was dead. I don’t even remember her name. Sevika only remembered you as the daughter of the ealdorman. The ealdorman that, when the Danes arrived, was forced to watch his home be burned to the ground before being killed himself. 

At the time Sevika had been a servant girl, despised by her parents simply for being born. Later, she would come to understand why her parents fought so much. Me? A noble’s bastard? …How unoriginal. However, as a child Sevika had thought there was something wrong with herself to make her parents hate her, and you had shown her otherwise. 

You had been kind to her, and she had come to know what real care was because of your generosity. Yet when she needed me…Sevika grit her teeth as she pushed around the porridge on her plate, I did nothing but cower and run. 

When the Danes came, she’d left you behind. She could have helped you, done anything to protect you, and yet…

You tripped over a fiery piece of wood, falling to the floor as the house burned around you both. Sevika turned around, ready to grab your hand when a yell bellowed from behind. The Danes getting the last treasures of the house spotted you both, and having seen how nicely you dressed, immediately recognized who you were. You gasped, turning back to Sevika with a hand stretched out, begging her to help. You couldn’t raise yourself back up with your burnt leg. But if she could just–

To your horror, Sevika recoiled, not even looking at you. Her eyes were trained on the Danes not far behind, glancing at the door just ahead. She looked back at you one last time, eyes full of tears as she ignored your desperation.

“I’m sorry lady…I’m sorry…” With that, Sevika turned away, running out the door and leaving you behind for the Danes to capture.

That moment haunted her each passing day, driving her to train and become a knight. Every time you flashed in her mind, she vowed to kill ten more Danes. To save ten more people. Every time you whispered her name in her dreams, the number doubled. 

Yet despite her efforts, that wasn’t enough. Sevika still slept only to see the fire. To see your father and her parents dead. To see you, with eyes pleading with her to save you as you were dragged away, neck yanked back to make room for a bloody ax–

“Sevika? You’re not eating. Are you alright?” The knight looked up to meet Ran's curious, concerned gaze. They had met Sevika long ago, and for some reason decided to stick with her despite her grim attitude. Ran was the closest person to a friend Sevika had now, and they reminded her that she wasn’t a child anymore, let alone experiencing that day again. 

Instead, she was a knight of Wessex, a formidable one at that…and currently preparing for another inevitable attempt from the Danes to attack, come spring. Sevika sighed, shoveling down a spoonful of porridge with a grunt.

“Me? I'm fine. Just…fine.”

____________

You knew what you wanted. You couldn’t ask for it though. The sinister voices in the back of your mind were too loud these days. 

Hands caressed your body as if you were made of glass, and to her, you supposed you were. Your lord had a body riddled with tattoos and battle scars, expansive muscles moving hypnotically as she pressed against you. She treated you like something precious, and you both craved and despised her delicate touch.

You feared she would find something wrong. Something undeniably you...and when Vi inevitably did, what would she do?

Will she abandon you, just as that girl did before?

“My love…you’ve grown silent. Talk to me, what do you need?” Vi murmured, kissing your bare shoulder. You avoided her gaze, trying to brush your emotions away.

“It’s nothing. I was simply thinking of…well it’s getting warmer, spring is approaching and I should prepare to see. To know if we should attack–”

“No,” Vi’s voice was a barely audible whisper, yet it felt like a command nonetheless. “You’re hurting again, I can feel it…” Vi reached down to gingerly hold your hand, kissing the back of it.

“So tell me what I can do to make you forget. Let me help you.” It’s a trap. Don’t do it. It’s a trap. Don’t do it, it’s a–

“…Vi,” you nervously licked your lips, and she patiently waited, “...tell me you love me…” Your voice was uncertain and faint, and Vi instantly broke into a wide smile, kissing the corner of your eyes.

“I do.”

“You won’t–you c-can’t leave me…” Vi chuckled at your fretfulness, finding this needy side of you endearing. Usually, you were fearsome, but with her, she had managed to peel back enough layers and catch a glimpse of the truth. She kissed your shuddering neck as she nodded.

“You have my heart, my love. I can never imagine being without you.” Her voice was an anchor for your tired soul, and you crumbled into her warmth. Vi let you, continuing to breathe out praises against your skin. 

“You’re too beautiful. Too stunning. I ought to tie you up here and never let another person see you again. But then I wouldn’t be able to brag, or show off how perfect you are to me…” 

She knew that would make you melt, humming as you squirmed. You loved her praising words, but you were never good at taking compliments, rouge from your bare shoulders up to the tip of your ears. Vi smirked at you as if you were adorable, leaning down to trace her teeth over the peak of your breasts. Her hand snaked down to part your folds, coaxing out sweet sounds from you.

“You’ve turned into such a pretty mess, and you’re practically glowing. Do you love my words that much…or the idea of me tying you up?” Her teasing only warmed your skin more, and she laughed at your frustrated glare. Vi planted a kiss across your trembling stomach, murmuring into the skin.

“You’re everything to me.” The conviction in her voice made you shiver, moaning as she moved to kiss every inch of your waist, fingers slowly thrusting into your heat. “My love. My life. I wouldn't trade you for anyone else in the world.” Vi removed her soaked digits, fixing the backs of your knees over her shoulders. You looked down to see fierce, electric blue eyes as Vi bent down to pleasure you further.

“I will never abandon you, and if need be? I would travel across the world just to find you.” You gasped, shuddering as Vi drove her tongue into your heat, rough and relentless as she tasted you. The weight of her devotion was like no other Dane you had ever known–like no other person you had ever known. 

“You’re mine,” she rasped into your dewy folds, eyebrows knit in concentration, “and I am your–wai–love?” At her words, tears filled up in your eyes. Comically, Vi’s own eyes bulged out, faltering at the sight of those salty droplets. She recoiled immediately, gaze unreadable for a moment.

Wait, no don’t, I’m sorry–

Your panic was quelled in less than a second, surprised when calloused hands swiftly gathered your face in their grasp. Vi’s eyes searched your own, clearly worried beyond belief.

“My love, did I hurt you? I–fuck–I didn’t–” You let out a breathless laugh, feeling ridiculous for panicking. Emboldened, you pressed your lips hard against her own, pulling her into a deep, heated kiss. Vi’s tense muscles relaxed, and you hummed in approval, pulling away to smile at your lord’s flushed cheeks.

“Never. I am just…happy. You love me, despite me being, well, me. I’m in awe–

“There you go again.” You squeaked as Vi suddenly flipped you over, frustrated. “Belittling yourself. Acting as if you don’t deserve a thing. I won’t allow it, and if you insist on continuing?”

The sound of her drawer opening made your heart skip a beat, glancing over your shoulder to see Vi pull out her strap. Oh shit.

“Then I’ll just have to make sure you can’t speak again…right?”

____________

Some days later, when you were finally able to walk again, you looked into your lord’s future.

You saw Vi, triumphant. She raised his blade with a cry, and the horse before her fell–along with the Saxon king. The weak man scrambled back, he cried out for mercy–but your lord would grant him no such thing. Instead she raised her sword with a furious grin, bringing it down with one final swing…

…and the blood of the Saxon king ran red, pooling at her feet.

“Guards!” You yelled as you trudged through the murky bog water around you. One of the guards waiting began to look back towards you, and your voice broke into another commanding roar, “turn away, now.” Hastily he did, but you knew it was already too late.

“No man is to show me his face.” You reminded them both with a heavy scowl, stalking towards the one that had fearfully turned away. “No man is to see me before my lord.” 

You unsheathed your daggers, moving to cut the back of his knee. The tender flesh broke under your force, and he buckled, crying out in pain. You didn’t mind the sniveling man any longer, turning to face the other guard from behind.

“You will go ahead and remind the camp that my lord must be the first to see me.” The guard frantically nodded, voice trembling.

“Y-yes lady.” You lurked, silently walking around him from behind. His friend cried out in pain, seething in the mud. The guard before you knew better than to acknowledge him there.

“Once she has my message, they’ll be free to gaze.” He nodded once, and then he was gone, quickly speeding away to warn the camp. You shifted your eyes back onto the writhing man on the ground, raising an eyebrow as he desperately spoke.

“M-my lady, I swear, I did not look at you!” You ignored his pleas, kind enough to inform him of his fate.

“...I must take your eyes.” At that he flinched, more energetic than before.

“L-lady no–be merciful!” You scoffed, pacing as you looked down at him in annoyance.

“And your tongue.” His eyebrows narrowed at that, and in a last ditch effort he reached for his sword. Perfect. 

“You bitch! I-I’ll kill you–argh!” You threw one of your daggers, letting the weapon sink into his wrist. He cried out, but you didn’t give him time for his final breath on this earth to last, clambering on top of his body before bringing the blunt end of your remaining dagger down onto his eyes. 

Again and again you bashed the weapon into them, feeding off his cries of pain. Feverishly, you grinned as his warm blood splattered across your face. You bit your bottom lip as you flipped the blade in your hand once that was done, driving it up under his chin. Finally, the grating noise of his annoying yells cut off, and you breathed out in satisfaction. Unceremoniously, you yanked your dagger out of his head and rose, leaving the body there to head to your lord.

“Turn away!” You harshly spoke, striding into the camp. “Only the women may look at me until I have told my lord what I have seen.” As you walked, the men obeyed, turning away from you with haste. They knew doing otherwise would result in death, and although you were never one to turn away from it, you couldn’t kill every man in your lord's camp.

You marched forward, determined. Where is she? You were itching to see her, to tell her of her glory, to tell her of her destiny. Taking a turn, you abruptly stopped, surprised until you softly smiled.

Your lord was already on her knees, waiting for you. Vi was so frozen one would think she was dead, with her hands laid out over her knees and eyes closed. She meditated to become one with the gods, but that wouldn’t be enough.

You would be the one to bring her to it.

With little hesitation you brought your dagger onto your own palm, slashing across it. You strode up to Vi, walking around your lord until you stood behind her. You reached down to grab a fistful of her hair, jerking it backwards. Pale blue eyes snapped open, staring back up at you. The intensity of her gaze made you shiver as you held your clenched fist over her mouth, pouring your blood down past her lips as you rasped. 

“Vi my love, drink me and make my vision real. Let me offer you all my strength…” When the last drop fell she closed her eyes as if the taste of you was enchanting. The look made your stomach twist, and you hummed as you walked around to face her, kneeling before your lord. You delicately cupped her jaw in the palm of your bloody hand, watching her eyes flutter open. 

It is done. You leaned forward, and she knew what to do, devouring your lips in a burning kiss. You kissed her back with equal passion, the taste of her sullied with the metallic tinge of blood. Eventually, you pulled back, eyeing crimson smeared on her lips as you whispered.

“I see the death of a king.” Vi’s eyebrows furrowed, strong arms wrapping around you as she spoke just as softly.

“Which king?” You grinned, gleeful as you answered your love.

“I see…the death of Silco. The king of Wessex.”

#sevika x reader #arcane sevika #sevika x you #vi x reader #arcane vi #vi x you #arcane #arcane x reader #sevika x reader x vi #arcane headcanon #okok so like silco is alfred is that not hilarious #i dunno wat im doing #but i do like vi here #shes real wholesome in later parts when like shes being a viking LMAO #also the bloodhair HAHA ARE U LAUGHING TLK FANS #this one is for u #the last kingdom au

[finanmoghra]

Bedspell

pairing modern!Eadith x reader

summary You never saw a woman with another eyes until you go to uni and meet Eadith and the woman she is. And now, a year since you've been living together, you found yourself in this 'friends with benefits' relationship with her.

warnings +18 smut

word count 2.2k

-

read on ao3

a/n this was quite interesting to write as it came out from nowhere, i was just writing some backstory for my series and then this happened. i didn't plan to write a smut or anything, i was just writing what my mind was saying for me to write and it led to a smut, so i hope you enjoy it! also, right after writing about the bedspell i remembered that zolita has a song named that and got a bit inspired by it, so feel free to listen while reading!

— Hello, beautiful. — you hear the flirty voice that belongs to a woman you know very well.

— Hello, Eadith. Thought you weren't come tonight. You said you have assignments to do, don't you? — you turned yourself to her, leaning on the bar counter, taking a sip from your drink.

— Oh, I said and I should be doing it, but then I wouldn't have come across such a beautiful face. — she gaves you a smirk, that woman know how to get you weak.

— You would, just had to wait 'til I go home. — you felt goosebumps when you felt her fingers touching your waist, tugging you closer to her.

— I needed to make sure you will go home to me and not leaving with some man who you would have regular, boring sex. — she leans on you, her mouth nearly touching your earlobe — You know the only one who knows how to make you tremble on a bed, is me.

You felt shivers down your spine, knowing that she was telling the truth. No one could ever do like her. No one could make you lose control of your voice, making you moan all night long. No one could burn your whole skin just with the touch of their lips, or make your legs shakes so hard. You know that by the end of the night you'll be under her.

— I know you already want me, love. But now you will have to wait until we go home. — she leaves a light kiss on your neck and then goes away.

This woman will be the death of yours.

===

You share a flat with Eadith and Gisela since the second year of uni. You three have met in the dorms and decided to move in together after their first year. You used to be a bit prude when first met them but, this changed completely after some time, you have not only became more comfortable with your intimacies, you have also find out to be bisexual. Of course Eadith was your awakening.

It all started as harmless flirts, nothing that made you uncomfortable, it actually  intrigued you. You started to see Eadith with another eyes, her pale skin so delicate, as her ginger hair, the desire to trace all her curves only growing day by day. Suddenly, you found yourself wanting to know every inche of Eadith's body.

It didn't go unnoticed by her. She has saw the long stares, deep breaths, principally when she walked around only on her underwears, something she was used to. She could see the desire and lust on your eyes. And she didn't lose time to start teasing you around. She took advantage that Gisela were spending more time in her boyfriend's than at their flat, and started to wear less clothes at home as the days passed by. She would touch you in every oportunity, even if it was just brushing her fingers on your forearm, she knew that it'd do something to you.

Until one day, you throw everything away, you couldn't stand anymore seeing her and not touching her. You were needing.

It was the last straw when you saw her on a tiny white laced matching, she was actually getting ready to go out but you couldn't care less.

You reached her on her bedroom doorway, she jumped when she felt your hands on her hips, holding her, but quickly she put a smirk on her face.

— I knew it wouldn't take longer, you'd come for me. — her hands placed over yours on her hips, guiding them to her lower belly.

— I don't know what you did to me, woman. I'm certainly under your bedspell. — your mouth was almost touching her neck, so you could see her shiver.

— Yeah? And what you're gonna do about it? Break the spell? — she dropped your hands and placed hers on your neck, leaning her body on yours.

— Definitely not, but I'm pretty sure we can break the bed. — you nipped the skin of her neck and heard her sighing. Anything that she planned to do tonight were left behind, her only appointment now was you.

On that night you went to heaven and back to hell. You touched every inche of Eadith's body, traced every curve of her. You felt the fire of hell everytime her touch found you, and the lights of heaven when her mouth discovered you body. And when her tongue met your folds, you could see nothing more, the only thing you could feel was Eadith. Her breath, her hands, her hair and that damn tongue of hers.

You knew by that night you could never break the bedspell. But, did you break the bed after all? Well, almost.

===

Eadith really made you wait. You had to see her go around the pub, talking with people you know from uni, and flirting with some. She know what she was doing.

It's not like you two are dating, you just like to enjoy yourselves, but seeing her flirting with another person while you're needing her so much, it makes your blood boil.

You couldn't listen to anything your friends were saying, the only thing you were capable was being hypnotized by the way her hips swing while she walks back to the table.

— You better close your mouth before a fly gets in. — you hear Osferth say and roll your eyes to him.

— Screw you, baby monk. — you said playfully, hearing the others laughing.

— What's up, hm? — Eadith says as she takes her seat at your side.

— Just Y/N adoring you, nothing new. — Gisela answers and you flip off her while smirking.

— Don't blame her! It'd be strange if someone wasn't adoring me, like, I deserve it. — you could her Eadith playfull tone right before pecking you on your cheek.

— Ye're right, lady. — Finan leans on the table as he talks and Eadith gives him a wink.

Quickly they engage on another topic that you weren't sure what it was again, because this time Eadith's hands was running through your undressed thighs, going dangerously close to your inner thigh.

— You need to stop or I won't last when we come home. — your voice was high enough only to Eadith hear.

— Let's see then.

Right after, you clenched when her fingers found their way to your - already - wet panties. You held your breath when you felt her pushing it aside to make her way through your folds. You know that if you let her continue with it, things would get a bit embarassed, so you guided your hand to stop hers and got up from your seat.

— We're leaving now, guys. See you tomorrow. — you blew a kiss to them and pulled Eadith with you. Everyone said goodbye to the two of you, not even stranging the way you suddenly left.

Eadith was laughing behind you as you lead the way, your flat being only 2 blocks away from the pub.

— Stop it! — you said to her.

— You couldn't stand a little foreplay, hm?

— Oh, I could, yes. But no in front of our friends. — you take her hand again and pulls her to you, stopping in the middle of the street to give her a soft kiss, breaking only to say, — If you could be faster, I'll let you have fun with foreplays at the moment we arrive home.

The rest of the way, was calm, Eadith doing nothing more than stealing kisses from you until you arrive at home. It was just the time to enter and lock the door 'til Eadith was pinning you against the door, kissing you fiercely.

— So, I heard you were jealous of me, huh? — she broke the kiss to say, now leading her mouth to your neck.

— Me? Jealous? — you let out a laugh — Never, lady. 'Cause I know I'm the only one who can give you pleasure as you like it. None of them would get you satisfied.

You pulled Eadith by her thighs and lead you both to your bedroom, throwing her on your bed. You stopped a moment to see how beautiful she looks, her red hair spread on your pillow, the contrast of her pale skin to your dark sheets, you felt something heavy on your belly, but you're sure is something you can think about later.

— What? — she asks, narrowing her eyebrows.

— Nothing, it's just that.. You're so beautiful. — a smile grow on your face as you see her cheeks getting red. You get on bed and lean on her, meeting her lips before she can say anything. You break the kiss when you two are both breathless and lead your mouth to her neck, nipping her skin while she start to undoing your dress zipper. You move just to take your dress off and starts to do the same with Eadith's.

After you both are undressed, Eadith flip you over so now she can be on your top. It is her thing, she likes to play before you can take her. She starts kissing your neck, and then lowering to your chest. You let out a loud moan as she starts to suck on your breast while her hand cups your other one, playing with your nipple. Your hands finds the way to her hair, pulling through your fingers, keeping her close to your chest. You gasp when you feel her thigh pressing on your core, her thigh now wet from your slick.

— Eadith! Please.. — you groaned when her teeth scraped on your nipple.

She raised her head, a smirk on his face. You took the chance to flip you over again, placing yourself between her legs. Your hands were running through every inche of her body, cupping her breasts, grasping her ass. She was agitated, so you pinned her on the bed by holding her hips, your face was on the height of her abs and you started kissing there and then was going up 'til you reached her lips, catching her breath.

Eadith moaned against your lips when your hands reached her core, your fingers slipping through her folds. You started to rub her clit with your thumb, you felt her clenching around your fingers as you slipped it all at once on her cunt. You curves your fingers, hitting her spot and that made Eadith moan. You smile as you see the pleasure on her face, her eyes shut, her cheeks almost red as her hair, her perfect lips parted to let out her moans.

— Open your eyes, Eadith. I want you to look at me. — as soon as she open her eyes, you start to go down on her body, your eyes locked, there was nothing else around you, only her.

You found yourself between her legs, her cunt right in front of your face. You licked your lips and stopped rubbing her clit before approaching to her folds, your tongue lapping through her folds, reaching her clit, pressing it with the tip of your tongue, you trembled when you heard Eadith screaming in pleasure.

Her hands find the way to you and you could feel her nails scrapping your nape before pulling your hair. You started to move your fingers faster, and she started to thrust her hips against it. Your mouth never stopping to work on her clit, rounding with your tongue and sucking it.

You lead your free hand to her breast again and starts to play with her nipple, and when Eadith starts to shiver under you, you know she is close, so you lick and suck on her folds hungrier than before, if it was possible, until she reach her peak, she come undone on your tongue and her taste is all over it. You give her a last lick, feeling her tremble, before you rise your head, smiling at the mess that you made of her. She loosens her grip on your hair as she starts to open her eyes again, you get up and lean on her once again, kissing her passionately, but still full of lust, making her taste her own flavour.

Eadith tries to sneak her hand to your core but you stop her.

— It's okay, honey. Giving you pleasure was enough. — you kissed her, on her lips, her cheeks, her neck, until she was laughing under you.

You move away just to clean yourselves and then you lay down next to her. You pull her closer, so she lay her head on your chest and you starts to play with her hair.

— Eadith? — you ask after some time in silence, but then you cursed yourself and hoped that she was already asleep, so you don't have to say it.

— Mmh, yeah? — she mumbles, her mouth pressed to your chest.

You stay silent, for a moment, but then says, — I think I'm in love with you.

#eadith x reader #modern eadith #the last kingdom #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom au #modern tlk #Eadith of mercia #eadith the last kingdom #wlw ns/fw

[gudvina]

Dangerous Liasisons

King Athelstan of East Anglia visits Wessex with his niece, a young woman half Norse and half Frankish that, behind her walls, hides some secret. Sihtric might just have the key to open her up.

Hope you will like my story!!!

tags: @solinarimoon @lauwrite1225 @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @amuddleofnervouswords @medievalfangirl @illjustgositinthecorner @anotherwinchesterfangirl @93xdiagonxalley @blah-blah-blah-bla @trenko-heart @emilyhufflepufftlk

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfiction #tlk fanfic #sihtric x oc #fingrith #uhtred x gisela #tlk au #the last kingdom au #sihtric kjartansson #writing #tlk writing #tlk sihtric

[solinarimoon]

AN: Fantasy AU of sorts. This is my (admittedly late - sorry darling) entry for the amazing @morosemagick Sings Celebration! I’m so proud of your hard work and the excellence of your story! This will be part one of two (planned). It is yet another new OC.

Warnings: family magic feud and murder and chaos

AO3 if you prefer

My Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long ago, in ages past and when the world was still new, there was magic. Powerful and mystical energy that rippled and wove throughout the natural world. These ancient forces, these spirits, the elemental makeup of our world was abundant and open, roaming freely across the land. Man and woman were able to commune with the power, exchange with the spirits of the earth. The gifts offered up by the power of the natural world were received and revered. There was harmony.

There was balance.

But slowly, the power began to shift. Humans' respect and gratitude waned. And power did as power does. It tainted and it spoiled.

Too easily and with no regard, men and women bent the magic to their bidding. Where once their spells were woven in harmony and in congruence with nature, now the people of the world sought to dominate it.

The streams of power and ancient flows of energy became fractured under the strain. The spirits slipped away and began to hide themselves. The ability for us to reach out and touch the source faded from memory.

Where before there had been channels for mystic power in all peoples, now seldom were there ones born who still found the gift.

But so it had been for Liadain. As it had been for her mother and sisters before her. All were born with the blood of the mystics. Raised up to embrace and respect their natural talent for seeking and engaging the power. But she, Liadain was the strongest of her family, able to weave the elements and listen to the spirits as effortlessly as breathing.

Her mother knew there was a strength in her from the day she was born. Laying in bed with her newborn babe at her breast, she observed as an owl lighted on the window frame. Its large eyes staring at the child before bobbing its head as if nodding and flying away.

As she grew, Liadain could usually be found in the presence of an animal. Neighbors and friends would comment in hushed whispers, that it seemed almost as if the animals watched over the girl. They were not pets. They remained wild and free. But were pulled to Liadain like moths are drawn to a flame.

They kept vigilance over her and played with her. They observed as Liadain’s mother introduced her to the elements of the old age and taught her to weave the mystic powers. And they were awed when her skill and talent grew to surpass the others of her kin. As she reached her 13th year, Liadain’s powers continued to grow. And her mother’s smile beamed at her, on her name day as she proclaimed her now a woman.

So it was too, that the women in Liadain’s family were not the only ones blessed to still have power given from the elements. The brother of her mother, her uncle was also gifted in the mystic flows. Roarc fell behind none save Liadain in his mastery over the power. But where Liadain’s power over the elements shaped her magic as an ebb and flow of a tide, harmonious and congruent, but with capability for terrible power, Roar’s power grated in a push and pull for dominance. Roarc fell prey to the lust for power. Ever hungry for it, his rage swelled as he watched the grace with which his niece diverted the flowing stream. The easy set of her shoulders as she coaxed the buds to life along the vines.

In his rage, Roarc’s power grew defiled. Corrupted. A poison slid into his mind, whispering vile ideas and scheming evil plots.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liadain knew something was wrong as she stepped out of the eves of the forest. She felt it in her heart. As she felt the shift in Grey Lady, the shewolf who tensed at her side. The wolf was barely older than a pup, but already stood at a height with Liadain’s hip. More often of late, the creature had begun to leave her pack, seeking out the company of Liadain. Kindred was what Liadain’s mother had called their bond. And now the Kindred shared a fear that rippled up from the depth of Liadain’s stomach.

Across the meadow, a raven circled above the house with the thatched roof and rough stone walls. The raven’s presence alone was not unusual. But the foul stench of death settled in its wake.

Liadain’s breath hitched in her throat before she tried to steady herself. In unison, the girl and the wolf darted forward across the tall grasses, their feet thumping along the ground.

They crashed through the door only to shrink back in horror at the sight before their eyes. The entire home reeked with the odor of corruption and death. But not a drop of blood had been shed by her family. It was as if the light behind each of their eyes had been snuffed out. The breath in their lungs ripped away.

They lay still and wretched in their death. Her mother fallen in a slump to her knees and toppled over on herself where she had stood. Her sisters fallen over onto the table or collapsed on the floor. Margaid even looked as if she could be sleeping, were it not for her open yet unseeing eyes.

Grey Lady stepped in front of Liadain despite the whimper in her own throat, her eyes searching and scanning the scene for any sign of a lingering threat. But she did not leave Liadain’s touch, her body shifting forward the few steps while brushing along Liadain’s leg. Too shocked and heartbroken to think, Liadain never reached out for her powers. Not even when felt the hackles rise on Grey Lady’s neck.

And an instant later, everything went dark. And she knew no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Finan asked over his shoulder. He was out with Sihtric and Osferth hunting deer in the woods. They had been out since before the light of dawn and it was creeping onto midday. The air was crisp and cool. One of the first cool mornings of the summer that meant autumn was on it’s way to replace the oppressive heat. Everyone loved mornings like these. It was easier to get the days work done and tempers did not flare as readily.

That is unless you were out in the middle of the woods and had not spotted a single deer, nor any game save for a few squirrels all morning.

“I heard something,” Osferth offered up, pausing at the rear of their group and squinting his eyes to glance around, straining to hear.

“Something like..?” Sihtric spoke up from somewhere off to their right. He had stopped walking, his bow slung over his shoulder. He turned to glance at Osferth. The man continued to turn slowly around, listening for something and scanning the surrounding trees.

Osferth stopped his gazing around after a moment of his companions staring at him. He sighed and began walking again.

“It almost sounded like singing,” he muttered as he stepped past them, “like a woman singing.”

He missed the smirk that Finan and Sihtric shared behind his back. Sensing a chance for a bit of mischief, the two friends nodded at one another.

Finan cleared his throat, “Perhaps it’s the sorceress of the wood.”

Osferth stopped a few paces away and turned to stare back at Finan and Sihtric with a bewildered and unbelieving look on his face.

“The what?” he questioned, skeptically.

Sihtric situated his bow across his shoulder more comfortable, giving off an air of nonchalance as he replied, “the sorceress. She lives here in the forest somewhere.”

Osferth scoffed and turned to resume his walking, but stopped at Finan’s incredulous tone.

“You mean to tell us,” Finan asked, “that you haven’t heard anyone talking about the witch that lives out in the Eastern wood?”

“I have not the faintest idea what you both are talking about,” the young man replied as his two friends watched him with looks of shock on their faces. He was used to their good natured jibes by now. They were continually finding some innocent remark he made or using his naive understanding of the world to get a laugh. Always without malice and in the spirit of brotherhood. But as such, he had grown wise to many of their games.

“I will not fall for one of your jests this time. I truly did hear something, but I can’t be sure what it was.”

“Right, so it may have been the sorceress,” Sihtric continued the charade.

“Aye,” Finan chimed in again, “we’ve not seen hide nor hair of any game. Maybe we should turn around and head back unless we want to meet her.”

They turned to head back in the direction they had come with Osferth shaking his head and suppressing a grin when a peal of laughter broke through the tranquility of the woods.

The three friends all slowly turned to look at one another, eyes wide and mouths agape.

Another moment later, another laugh echoed off the trees. It was pleasant and warm, if not for the fact that there should have been no other humans near where they were hunting.

It was difficult to discern what direction the woman, for it was without a doubt a woman’s laugh, had originated. But after a few more moments, the soft melody of a gentle hum came wafting on the breeze to their right.

After stalking through the dense crop of trees, Finan placed a finger to his lips as he drew his short sword and met his companions eyes. Osferth and Sihtric nodded silently and drew their own weapons, crouched and ready to peer around the trees. They knew a hidden glen lay beyond just past their position. The sound of slowly moving water could faintly be heard from the trickle of the small waterfall into the large pool on the opposite edge of the clearing. The soft hum carried over the wind, mingling with the rhythmic sounds of the water. Exchanging glances, the men shifted only slightly towards the noise, eyes scanning quickly. But before they were able to move to look into the clearing, they were stopped by a voice and large grins broke out on all their faces.

“I can hear you all, you know.”

Standing up straight, the trio laughed and shook their heads while Finan called out, “Aye, is that so? And who might you be, singing so sweetly in our forest?”

All sense of caution lost, they broke through the underbrush into the clearing. Laying on her back, one arm resting on her stomach and the other folded underneath her head was a young woman. A large grey shewolf rested her head on the woman’s lap, her eyes watching the men approach.

Grinning, the woman rose up to sit and ran her fingers through the wolf’s thick fur.

“Just a traveler passing through. Hoping to run across some old acquaintances,” she chuckled heartily, shifting her legs so the wolf raised her head and allowing her to stand.

Finan reached the young woman first, enveloping her in a warm hug. He was followed closely by Sihtric who muttered in mock indignation, “mere acquaintances are we?”

Laughing outright, she hugged them back before turning to Osferth. The young warrior monk was kneeling and stroking Grey Lady’s head, while the shewolf nuzzled into him. He rose and Liadain hugged him heartily.

“You wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious Sorceress of the East Woods these two have been trying to fool me with would you?” he questioned her while Finan and Sihtric laughed loudly to themselves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late the next evening, Liadain and Grey Lady seated around a fire with Uhtred, Osferth, Finan and Sihtric. The lady Gisela had also joined her husband and their friends to the woods that night, entrusting the care of their children to her handmaid for the evening. The air was crisp with a gentle chill that was displaced by their laughter and the ripples of light and heat dancing off of the flames. After more than a year since her last visit, Liadain’s spirit soared with a content happiness to be surrounded by her friends.

Finan’s strong Irish lilt carried across the entire clearing as he recounted and embellished on the abject terror on Osferth’s face the day before when Liadain’s song had broken through the trees just at the perfect moment.

“The baby monk looked ready to piss himself, terrified that the Lady Sorceress of the Wood was haunting our path,” he cackled while receiving a shove from Osferth, seated next to him.

Everyone around the circle laughed together at the antics from the two men.

“I am no sorceress, Osferth,” Liadain managed to say around her chortles before taking a sip of her ale.

“No, Liadain, not a sorceress, surely,” Uhtred sighed as his own laughter settled into a contented smile while he lay his head back to rest against his wife’s legs. He was seated, legs laid out affront himself on the grass while Gisela was perched on a fallen log. “But you do have the air of one who is touched by the gods, with all your mystery,” he continued on playfully, “and with your pet wolf who one could swear understands our tongue.”

As if to affirm his suspicion, Grey Lady chuffed a small bark at him from across the fire, evoking further laughter from all. Then the great shewolf leaned herself against Liadain’s gentle stoke of her muzzle before pacing in a small circle twice and laying down at her side.

Sihtric chuckled into his own mug of ale, “Our lord is right, Liadain. You are a mysterious wanderer with a wise, but wild animal companion. And,” he paused dramatically taking another drought off his cup, “we no nothing about you. Not who your people are. Not where you are from or where you wander to. You, Liadain, are a secret. Like the moon. A traveling celestial orb.”

“Someone has had entirely too much ale,” Finan cut off Sihtric’s rambling. “Is this how you speak with your woman in Winchester? It’s no wonder she sees you as easy money.”

“She does not”

“Leave him be”

“You have a woman?”

Liadain’s question jumbled with rest of her companions arguing over top of one another, all the while with good-natured smiles on their faces.

“You will do as your lord’s wife says, Finan,” Gisela spoke not unkindly but with the graceful authority Liadain had come to respect, “and leave the young man and his betrothed be. He is to be married to a woman he loves and as his friend, you are to be happy for him.”

Gisela’s words were spoken with a smile. One Finan returned sheepishly, nodding and attesting to the truth of her words.

Liadain opened her mouth to offer her congratulations, but was stopped short when Gisela continued speaking.

“And anyway,” the lady smiled meeting Liadain’s eye across the flames, “Liadain is no sorceress. And she is not a goddess. She is a Vargr.”

Liadain shivered as a chill crept along her arms. She stared at Gisela, a slow smile growing on the woman’s face.

Vaguely, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sihtric nod his head at that word. Vargr.

Uhtred smiled and agreed with his wife, “a Vargr. That is what you are.”

“What is that? A vargr?” Osferth stumbled slightly over the foreign word.

“It is a wolf rider. A human who can share consciousness with a wolf.” Sihtric offered up, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees and his hands clasped together.

Gisela spoke up, “It is a person who shares a bond with another animal. A bond so strong, the two can not stand to be parted. They feel each others pain and joys.”

With a wry chuckle, Liadain leaned closer into Grey Lady, “well then, I would say you are right, lady. I remember someone calling us kindred once. Perhaps in another lifetime,” but her words were full of jest and the rest of the group laughed along with her. And in another moment, they were turned to other laughs and other stories.

But Liadain’s gaze wandered upward to the clear skies and the twinkling of the stars overhead. What she did not tell them was that, in truth she did not know the answers to Sihtric’s questions. Who were her people? Where did she come from and what was it that kept her wandering, always with Grey Lady at her side?

The truth was that she had no knowledge of a life before her wanderings. No memories. No dreams. No gut feelings or intuitions. Only her name and Grey Lady. And the knowledge that they were bonded. Kindred, they two. Alone in the world.

The group continued to laugh and tell stories long into the night. And in the morning Liadain and Grey Lady took their leave, promising they would return, as they always did. Eventually.

Only eventually slowly turned into soon. And soon turned into often. And Liadain’s isolation, the aloneness, the curse that her uncle ripped across her heart and her soul that should have killed her, the curse that left a wolf without a pack, slowly the curse began to crack.

Ripples of the ancient flows tickled across Liadain’s fingertips. And without her knowing it, she would leave blossoming buds in her wake or a river's current would slip ever so softly towards her feet.

And though Liadain was unaware of the power reaching out to her once more, Roarc sensed the return. And he sent out his spies

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading. Let me know if you would like to added or removed from my tag list.

Tags: @maggiescarborough @morosemagick @mystic-shadows42 @emilyhufflepufftlk @lauwrite1225 @pokeasleepingsmaug @nxrdist @magravenwrites @notyourwildestdream @mrsalwayswrite @ecarroll1978 @nobodys-business-world @93xdiagonxalley @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @0hsappho @xlittlestarling @medievalfangirl @mybigfatspoonielife @stormingroses

#the last kingdom #fantasy AU #there’s a wolf companion #sihtric #finan #Osferth #Uhtred #Gisela #the last kingdom au #merniescc

[demaparbat-hp]

Water Half-Child

#atla #zutara #avatar the last airbender #katara #zuko #katara of the southern water tribe #Halfblood AU #katara art #katara fanart #atla art #atla fanart #atla au #atla zuko #zutara fanart #zutara au #Halfblood AU art #earth kingdom #water tribe #I'm about to pull a Blue Eye Samurai with this one hear me out #Kanna settled down in some peaceful village in the Earth Kingdom after leaving the North #She married some local EK guy and had Kya #Years later Kya fell in love with a warrior from the Southern Water Tribe who stayed in her village to recover from battle wounds #A few months later Hakoda left her to go back to the wife and son he had left behind in the South. He didn't know Kya was with child. #Katara never knew her father. Her mother died at childbirth and her grandmother raised her in the village. #Kanna taught her how to be a healer and told her to always hide her waterbending. When Katara was fourteen her grandmother died from illness #Katara was safe. She had peace. But she wasn't happy. There was an itch underneath her skin that told her she could be more. #Then Zuko crashed into her life and turned her world upside down. He was a half-child just like her. Always never enough. #He has a mission he cannot tell her about. She understands. She doesn't even want to know. He's offering her a way out and she will take it. #If meeting his infamous uncle in Ba Sing Se for some obscure business is what it takes to be free then so be it #Helping Zuko figure out his identity might be important too.

[1-8oo-wtfbro]

“the blue spirit? do u mean lee from the tea shop’s secret boyfriend? we see him coming in the window at the craziest times of night.”

“i wonder if his uncle knows”

#two earth kingdom ladies at the market spilling the tea #sokka behind them: what #sokka also remembering this convo when zuko reveals he’s the blue spirit: I THOUGHT U SAID I WAS UR FIRST BOYFRIEND?!? #zuko: no that was jet #alta #zukka #avatar the last airbender #aang #katara #sokka #zuko #sokka x zuko #zukka nation #ao3feed zukka #zukka fanfic #zukka au #avatar zukka #zukka incorrect quotes #atla zukka #meme #relatable memes #meem #funny memes #memes #relatable #funny #the little bisexual disasters #hehehe #i love them

[bastart13]

Some designs for an Avatar Legend of Korra/The Last Airbender generation swap AU!

Korra is now the 14 year old airbending Avatar, found a century after the Fire Nation started their war. She's found by Asami, a non-bending member of the Northern Water Tribe and together they set off to find Korra a way of mastering airbending, spirituality, and defeating the Fire Nation.

Bolin and Mako are children of the Fire Nation colonies, both forced to hide their bending (now firebending and earthbending respectively) and make whatever living they can as orphans until Bolin meets Korra and through hijinks, convinced Mako to let them accompany them.

Then Opal is the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe, fiercely protected and hidden away by her family despite her desperation to use her skill to help people, and Prince Wu is the disgracefully soft Fire Nation Prince, banished for speaking out about the war and forbidden to return until he captures the Avatar and regains his honour.

#avatar #legend of korra #the last airbender #atla #lok #korra #asami #mako #bolin #opal #wu #prince wu #au #gen swap au #element swap au #costume design #this au is so fun to think about #bolin and opal are absolutely adorable as 12 year olds #and korra's dynamic as both the last airbender and a personality not easily suited for airbending is fascinating #bolin wears a mask in the earth kingdom to hide he's a firebender #and mako is fiercely protective of him due to people suspecting him of being part of the war

[tumblerlina]

something different from what I use to update. girls night for ATLA girls! of course they are listening to secret tunnel...

Katara, Suki and Toph

(yeah toph is using a melon lord pijama)(and suki using soka´s boomerang guy shirt)

#atla #avatar the last airbender #waterbending #earthbending #earth kingdom #atla au #girls night #toph beifong #suki #katara #the gaang #avatar fanart #digital art #fanart

[valeskafics]

"Asylum" - Osferth x Reader (AHS Asylum AU)

Summary: Osferth takes a job at Briarcliff Manor and meets you, a young woman allegedly possessed by a demon.

Word Count: 3,000

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, blasphemy, religion kink, priest kink, choking, oral m receiving, orgasm denial, monster fucking, p in v sex, demonic possession, mentions of old-fashioned hysteria diagnoses

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the The Last Kingdom characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

Osferth, the unclaimed bastard son of famed politician Alfred, was ordained as a priest in the year 1964, the youngest in modern history. When asked where he wished to do God’s work, he surprised his teachers and, in truth, the religious world, by choosing to become the resident priest at Briarcliff Manor, an asylum for the criminally insane. In an interview, Osferth stated that the poor souls in the asylum were the ones who needed God’s love more than anyone.

His first few months working there are uneventful. The Mother Superior and other nuns working there are austere, but nothing he can’t handle. He meets some of the worst humanity has to offer, but he continues to work tirelessly on the salvation of their souls. After all, even the most wretched are worthy of His grace.

Everything changes, however, when you are committed to Briarcliff. Osferth watches as you’re dragged along by one of the orderlies, their grip bruising on your forearm. Your parents give you thinly veiled looks of disdain that they try to disguise as worry for their baby girl’s well-being. But Osferth knows that look all too well. He’s seen it in his father’s eyes too many times to count. When he looks at you, you look so small and fragile, with sweet doe eyes. All he wants is to take you into his arms and protect you, shelter you from the hand this cruel, cruel world has dealt you. You meet his gaze as they shove you into a cell.

“Her parents claim she’s possessed,” the Mother Superior tells him as the cell is locked, “You are to interview her and find out if there is indeed a case of demonic possession or if the girl is just suffering some form of hysteria.”

Osferth winces at the term “hysteria”. It’s so outdated, medicine has advanced from how it was when such diagnoses were used, but clearly the Mother Superior is old-fashioned. He nods and requests her to leave, giving him time alone with you. Osferth turns to face you and sees that you’re already looking at him, head tilted to the side as if out of curiosity, your gaze too alluring for him to resist. He feels drawn to you, more than he’s ever felt to anyone. Your eyes pierce right through him, to his very soul.

You finally speak after a long while of just staring at him, “You’re a priest?”

Your voice is soft and smooth, like honey being poured in his ears. He nods, eyes moving along your figure. You’re so beautiful, angelic almost, in the white hospital gown they’ve put you in, a contrast to this awful place. It must be a torment, torture for such a sweet soul to be shut in that awful cell.

You smile slightly, the sight making Osferth feel as though there are butterflies fluttering around in his stomach, as though it’s all in knots, as you muse, “But all the priests I’ve met are old. You’re nearly my age.”

He blushes at your words, taking a step closer to your cell, “I am very young, yes. I just finished my studies and here I am taking up my first duty.”

“An interesting choice,” you tease him, your playful tone of voice disarming him as he leans in toward the bars on your cell, grasping two of them in his hands. He watches as you step away from him, frowning slightly as you move toward the window, gazing out of it, “Did they tell you why I’m here?”

“I was told about your condition,” he says softly, as you continue pacing your cell, almost like some kind of caged lioness, “The Mother Superior said your parents believe you to be possessed but that it might just be a case of hysteria. I am sure that with proper care, I can treat you.”

Osferth knows his gaze is probably too intense to be considered chaste by any means, especially when you turn and give him a teasing little grin, “Do you know what the treatment for hysteria is?”

“Erm,” he mumbles, “A mental rest and some physical exercise?”

“Orgasm therapy,” you giggle, “Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?”

Osferth’s heart pounds against his ribcage. He can’t help but stare at your body, biting down on his lower lip, imagining giving you the type of therapy it is you’re talking about. His hands touching you, moving along the curves of your hips, your chest…

“You don’t believe in it?”

“They tried it on me before,” you say airily, “It didn’t work. But,” you step closer to the bars, resting your hands just below where Osferth’s are, so close that he can feel the heat of your body as you gaze up at him, a little smirk playing on your lips, “Maybe it’ll work if you’re the one giving me the treatment, Father.”

He feels his pants grow uncomfortably tight beneath his robes, adjusting his collar as he clears his throat, “I could try,” Osferth replies, his voice dropping an octave, barely hidden desire evident in his every word, his every glance.

“Do they have any books in here?” you ask, gazing up at him with those doe eyes, the slightest hint of mirth dancing in them.

Osferth is a puppet in your hands, unable to help himself from following your every command. You ask for a book? He’ll find one if only to see you smile. If you ask him to move mountains, he’ll find a way to do it somehow.

“I have this one,” he mumbles shyly, grabbing a book from the desk behind him, “It’s a compilation of religious poetry. It inspired me during my studies and I’d love to share it with you.”

You give him a playful grin, your voice a low purr as you reply, “I’m not religious, Father.”

He swallows thickly, his fingertips grazing against yours as both of you rest your hands on the bars of the cell. Your hands are so soft and smooth, he can hardly contain himself.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the way they speak of divine love,” he says, a cheeky smile playing on his own lips as he begins to play your game.

You press yourself up against the bars, so close to him that he can feel your breath against his sin as you request, “Won’t you read to this poor sinner, Father?”

Your words drive him to the point of madness, feeling as though his blood is boiling beneath his skin. He picks up the book and gazes at you, meeting those eyes that he knows will haunt him for the rest of his life. He begins to read, feeling your eyes on him, reading the words but never having understood them until this moment, here with you.

“For thee, the sea is not too deep,” he finishes with a soft whisper.

The two of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a long moment, the air between you heavy with tension as he leans in slightly, his nose brushing against yours ever so slightly. He can feel your breath on his lips, nearly taste you. But then, the Mother Superior returns and drags Osferth away by the ear, like he’s a child. She rants that you could be possessed, that he must stay away from you. And you? You just laugh, that soft melodious laugh that has him turning back to meet your gaze once more.

“For thee, the mountains are not too high,” he says quietly, heart racing as a new flame burns inside of him.

You have bewitched him entirely, body and soul.

A few days pass until he is given enough leeway to find you again. And it fills him with a very unchristian rage when he sees you sitting beside one of the other asylum residents, a troublesome one by the name of Sigtryggr. You sit beside him, playing with his hair, practically draping yourself over the man while completely ignoring Osferth. You turn toward Osferth and give him a coy smile before returning to flirting with Sigtryggr, whispering in his ear. Osferth’s jealousy knows no limits. That should be him, with you in his lap. He stares at you, pleading, desperate for your love, your touch, your kiss.

You stand up, moving toward the kitchen when one of the nuns calls you to do your chores for the day and begin walking. Osferth discreetly follows after you, uncontrollable desire filling his body. Once the two of you are in a more secluded hallway, he grabs you by the shoulders, pushing you against a wall. Your faces are barely an inch apart as you gaze up at him, lips so very close to his, tempting him into sin.

“Sorry, Father,” you hum, moving away, “I’m on kitchen duty.”

He grabs your hand, pulling you back against his chest, his lips crashing onto yours. It’s as though no one exists in this moment except for the two of you. His arms wrap around you tightly, as if he never intends to let you leave. His kiss is searing, heated, hungry. He pulls away, panting slightly before leaning to whisper in your ear.

“I love how you call me ‘Father’.”

You smirk at him, clicking your tongue in a chastising fashion, “That’s not very Christian of you, Father.”

“I’m not just a Christian,” he murmurs, voice hoarse with want, “I am a man. And you tempt me, a temptation I wish to surrender to,” Osferth strokes your cheek with his thumb, “Your scent, your lips, the curves of your body… My God, the way you move…”

“Haven’t you heard? They say I’m possessed,” you coo, “Do you believe them, Father?”

He shakes his head vehemently, caressing your face with his large, calloused hands, his form dwarfing yours, “How could any demon, anything of the devil, be this beautiful? You are a gift from heaven, full of love and passion.”

Osferth kisses you again, holding you close, letting out a low moan of delight as you nip at his lip.

“That’s what you think.”

He watches as your eyes go completely black. Osferth’s breath catches in his throat as he gazes at you. He should be afraid of this new side of yourself you’ve revealed. But he lusts after you more than ever before, his hand moving to run through your hair.

“Tell me the truth then,” he whispers, breathing growing ragged, eyes blown wide with desire, “If It means that I can have you. I want to be possessed. I will embrace the darkness and the pain if it means I can be with you.”

You run your hands down his chest in those black robes, your touch setting him alight with need, until you stroke his cock over the coarse fabric, a wicked grin on your face as you purr, “You’re pathetic, Priest. All this for little old me?”

His cheeks flush a bright pink and he closes his eyes, lips parted as he moans, “Pathetic? Is it pathetic to want the most beautiful woman in the world?”

You let out a dark little laugh, grinning at him, “I’m no mere woman, Priest. I’m a demon. I have power you cannot possibly fathom.”

A raw wave of need floods through him as he grows even harder against your palm, whispering, “Then come to me to devour my soul if that is what you wish.”

Your lips meet his again, tongues entwined in a passionate dance, your hands tugging at his hair as the two of you fall into your cot in your cell, transported there as if by magic. Osferth assumes this is one of the powers you possess, continuing to kiss you as you lay atop him, straddling his hips.

“Where is your love for God now, Priest?” you ask, tracing the shape of his lips with your finger, so soft against him.

He presses a kiss to your fingertip, muttering, “In this moment, all my desire is for you and you alone. All my love is for you. You are my only passion.”

You kiss his jaw, moving down to his neck, biting down on his skin, sending his entire body into overdrive, “Such a sweet little servant you are to my desires, Father,” you giggle, your hand moving to squeeze his throat ever so slightly, amused by the whimper he lets out at your touch, “Pathetic.”

“I belong to you,” he groans, hands cupping your ass, squeezing your flesh in his strong hands, “I will be your servant until I cease to exist if you will have me. My only wish is to serve you.”

His mind is only filled with thoughts of you, every sound, every touch. His lips crave your skin, moving to mouth at your collarbone, desperation in his kiss.

“Do you love me, Father?” you ask playfully, rolling your hips against his in a way that has his own bucking up against yours.

“Yes,” he breathes, gazing up at you, nothing short of devotion and worship in his eyes, “Even if you bring me nothing but pain, even if it kills me… I love you. Don’t destroy me, my love.”

You lean in, eyes flashing black once more as you look down at him, “Do you like my eyes, Priest? Do you still find me beautiful?”

He nods eagerly, caressing your face, in awe of you, your eyes that are so happy yet so cruel, his mind a void filled with passion and desire for you and nothing else, “I want to lose myself in them. To be a slave to them.”

You move away for a moment, chuckling at the weak noise of protest he lets out, only to strip your shift from your body and unfurl your massive black wings, smirking, “And these?”

Osferth gazes at you, wonderstruck, time standing still as he admires you. His hands move to touch the ebony feathers on your wings, jaw slack with admiration.

His voice trembles as he whispers, “Beautiful…”

You let out a moan as he touches your wings, your hands moving to cup your breasts, squeezing slightly as you grind your hips against his, “Yes, Father, just like that.”

Osferth watches in amazement as two curved horns sprout on your head, a long black forked tail moving behind you. You are a dark beauty, but a beauty nonetheless. The most beautiful creature he has seen in his entire existence. Your wings envelop the two of you as you lean forward to kiss him, moaning as his free hand moves to stroke your horns.

“Oh, Priest, you do know how to treat a girl…”

“I am no longer a priest. All I am, all I will ever be is yours,” he declares boldly.

You move your tail to wrap around his wrists, holding them together as you undress the main, eyeing him greedily as inch by inch of his alabaster skin is revealed. You kiss his chest, taking one of his nipples into your mouth, rolling it between your teeth, before sliding down further to take his long, girthy cock into your mouth. He groans, bucking his hips up against your lips, whining, begging for you. You gaze up at him through your lashes, your tongue moving along the underside of his cock, lapping at the tip before you take him all the way in, squeezing his balls gently as you bob your head on his cock. Your hot, wet mouth is nearly enough to make him cum immediately, his hips bucking up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. You bring him closer and closer to the edge, so close that he’s about to reach his release, before cruelly pulling away with a grin.

“Beg for me. Beg for my love. Beg for this foul demon to corrupt you.”

His head falls back against the pillow as he begs, “Please take me, have me, make me yours. I want to lose myself to you. You are all that matters.”

Pleased with his response, you sink down onto his cock, letting out a moan that is in harmony with his own. You begin rolling your hips against, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Osferth gazes up at you reverently, his hands holding your hips as you move against him, the sound of your skin slapping against his and the two of your sounds of pleasure combined filling the room. Osferth moves in time with you, your cunt squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost painful but only in the most delicious of ways. He thinks he could die like this, in your embrace, contented, as you lean in and press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his throat. He lets out a grunt of your name as he feels you clenching around him, that sexy, devious smile on your face driving him mad. You squeeze his throat gently, whispering in his ear.

“Cum for me, Father Osferth. Cum for your filthy demon lover.”

And he does, spilling himself deep inside you with a low, guttural moan of your name, your own release following soon after. He rests his head against your chest and you laugh softly as he nuzzles against you. You run your fingers through his hair, almost affectionately and Osferth all but preens at your touch.

If you are a creature of the Devil, then why does it feel like heaven when he kisses you? Why does it feel like he has waited his entire life for this moment, being held in your arms?

Osferth presses his lips to yours, your bare bodies pressed against each other, stroking your wings, your horns, everything that makes you so special, so dark, so unbelievably beautiful.

He makes up his mind that if the road to damnation begins with your touch, he cares not for his immortal soul. He will lay himself bare upon your altar, sacrifice everything that he is for you, his demon, his goddess, his love.

#osferth x you #osferth x reader #osferth smut #osferth the last kingdom #osferth tlk #osferth #osferth fanfic #osferth fanfiction #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #osferth imagine #osferth x y/n #osferth x fem!reader #the last kingdom x reader #my writing #ahs au #osferth oneshot #religion k*nk

[misguidedasgardian]

The Last Kingdom MASTERLIST

The Last Raid

Prologue

#misguidedtlk #osferth #the last kingdom #the last kingdom au #uhtred #finan #sihtric #misguidedmasterlist

[locosquif]

#Last au post before I begin shitposting again 🤞 #SALS CRK AU?? #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #white lily cookie #I’ve been on that au grind #art #it’s like taht one trend #sewing streak ended ?? #more like au streak ended

[finanmoghra]

Lynn's Masterlist

* smut

+ reader

× original character

Finan

one shots

Charming Irishman *+

series

(coming soon)

Sihtric

one shots

(coming soon)

Eadith

one shots

Bedspell *+

series

Damn seasons ×

#the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom au #modern tlk #finan x reader #sihtric x reader #eadith x reader #the last kingdom x reader

[scarapanna]

I've cooked once again!! Sprinkled in a teeny tiny bit of lore too/silly

This took me 3-4 days but I'm really really proud of this so it was worth it

[I kept the video unlisted as I dunno if I'm comfty with making it public at the moment, but on the archive account there's a public playlist with the this day aria animatic and this one!]

#cookie run kingdom #beetle's art #intertwined opposites au #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #crk au #tw eyestrain #tw flashing #tw bright colors #possibly one of my longest pmvs hdfnjd #the last one I made with this style was around the same length #anyway colorful frames the beloved mwamwamwa/silly #idk why some frames imploded at some point around 1:40 something hsbfsb #still really happy w it tho #also I havent played the episode 2 of beast yeast yet sbfhdb #gonna fact check the amount of things I got wromg tomorrow lmao #beast yeast

[demaparbat-hp]

Forgotten half-children

#atla #zutara #zuko #avatar the last airbender #katara #atla zuko #prince zuko #atla art #atla fanart #katara of the southern water tribe #atla katara #katara art #katara fanart #halfblood au #Halfblood AU art #zuko as lee #katara as kya #earth kingdom #zutara fanart #zutara au #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #Here I am pushing the HalfBlood agenda #Finally a piece with the both of them together #I don't think I have much to share about this one? #I already said a lot about the lore and plot of the AU in those other two posts... So I think you already know what you need to #At least in order to understand this piece #I love love love love this AU #And I can't decide on which hairstyle to give Zuko #So I'll stick with his awesome Book II short hair and see where things go from there