#no one writes osferth like arcie! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

assortedseaglass · 1 year ago

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Well shit. You’ve done it again @arcielee!

My favourite Osferth writer ever and this just proves why. The way you set up his new position never feels overwrought, the nameless woman has such a ✨vibe✨ and it is just so. Damn. Sexy.

The way you talk us through how Osferth is feeling is brilliant, and the unspoken between them is 🔥

Also, that ending?

Command me to be well

Summary: Lord Osferth has been injured and she takes care of him.

Paring: Lord Osferth x Female!Reader (third person)

Word Count: 1845

Warnings: Teasing baby monk, mentions of battles, injuries, oral (m receiving), 9th century remedies for bruises?

Author's Note: This was inspired by @hightowhxre story of Lord Osferth x Maid!Reader, which is so brilliant and has been living rent free in my brain as you can see from the 1800+ words.

Beta read by the wonderful @sylasthegrim surprise this was that request you sent me an eternity ago 💜

Dividers by @saradika 💜

The day hung heavy on his shoulders adding to the weight of the mud heavily caked onto his boots, along with the perspiration that caused his layers to cling to his lithe frame, the night’s cool air chilling him. Osferth entered his sleeping estate but noticed the pool of amber from the backroom where the Dane woman remained, her steadfast devotion to his humble household despite him expressing that her choices were solely to be her own.

He thought back to the last time he had spoken this outloud, how her startling eyes focused on him, the flutter of her long lashes that framed them. “Then my choice is to serve you, my lord,” she had replied with her honeyed tone.

Her words caused a lump in his throat and Osferth swallowed hard.

At first he rued the day that Uhtred had marched her into his modest, but comfortable, manor bestowed by his dear sister in Rumcofa. His title was behest after the death of King Alfred–their father–by a scroll with his signature, his final command for his eldest son’s legitimacy. When they returned to Mercia, Æthelflæd glowed with pride.

“You will be an ealdorman of Mercia,” she smiled.

Sihtric and Finan teased his title, but it was Uhtred who insisted he take in the Dane woman, how hands were needed to run the homestead. His large hand rested on her shoulder and pushed her towards him. “This is your lord,” Uhtred said with a smile, with a smirk. Osferth felt mortified. “You will serve him well.”

For a time it was them alone and he learned that she showed diligence, but not obedience; she possessed a sharp wit and sense that she always knew what was best for Osferth, more so than he himself. He also learned that she was a sanctioned healer, blessed by the gods–or so she claimed, and he indulged her natural curiosities, taking the time to teach her to read and to write.

She seemed to agree to this tutoring with the sole purpose to tease and to torment Osferth, always pressing too close for propriety. At the end of each lesson, her every fiber lingered after, from the lavender on her washed skin, a sinful scent that hung on his clothes, to the soft touch of her finger pads on the back of his hand, a soothing and circular motion to catch his attention. If he dared to look, she would always lean closer until he could see the candlelight dancing in her eyes.

Osferth would then create the much needed space between them, if anything so that he may begin to breathe again.

Though he felt her haunting tactility, he suppressed his desire when he saw her shifted attention and felt a sense of pride with how her fingers now grasped for every scroll, tome, and book within her reach. Her days were now spent gathering herbs and in the evening, she would painstakingly transcribe her remedies known to parchment.

He could only assume this was what she was doing at this moment. Osferth winced as he began to remove his boots, and then he heard her soft steps; she peered out from her room, her familiar silhouette against the amber light, and he could hear her concern. “Are you injured, my lord?”

At first, she picked up the teasing from the men he considered his brothers–Finan and Sihtric, relentless with his newfound lordship–but right now there was a genuineness to her tone.

“Please,” Osferth grimaced from her formality, from his subtle movements to unlace the ties. “I am simply Osferth.”

He saw the shadow of her brow furrowed and she then called for the water to be heated for their returned lord; Osferth burned from her words. “It is not necessary–” he started to say and, as always, she was quick to cut him off.

“It is needed, Osferth,” and her eyes that usually danced seemed to darken as she moved towards him. She kneeled in front of him and helped him remove the other boot before her palm moved to slip into his own hand, walking him back towards his room.

She turned to scrutinize his disheveled state; it was another long day patrolling the riverbanks and a small skirmish won on its shores. Osferth was not injured, severely, but he was beaten and it showed with the severity that lined his face. His weary hands went to remove the scabbard around his slender waist, a sharp exhale from the pain he felt explode in his chest. It was alleviated with her touch, a warmth that pooled from her palm that rested on his hip, taking over to remove his sword, his dagger, and returning to unlatch his embossed cuirass worn over.

She was careful to remove his upper layers which revealed the beginning bloom of purples, blues, and greens in the center, bold against his pale skin. “You are bruised to the very bone,” she assessed. Osferth hissed through clenched teeth when her fingers touched and she pulled away. “I’m sorry, my lord–”

“Please,” he rasped. “You know that when it is us alone…the title is not needed.”

He would have sworn he saw the wash of rose across her face, but she was quick to leave the room. Osferth looked to grab for the wooden chair when she returned, a pestle gripped in one hand to grind within the mortar held in her other; he could smell the crushed herbs mixed with honey.

“This will help with the bruising,” she explained, peering up at him.

Osferth hummed in response, and again with the touch of her hand against his bare chest; it was the same slow, soothing circular motion as she spread the poultice over where his blood rose dark on his skin. “It must rest for a moment,” she continued to explain. Her hand remained and he was unmoving, elated with the feeling of her skin against his own.

Once again, she was closer that good priority would allow, close enough to see the pink hues that dusted her cheeks and how she brightened when he spoke her name. “Thank you,” and he grimaced again with his exhale. Her fingers twitched, her touch still anchored on his chest before they began to trail lower. “You do not need to stay…”

“But what if I choose too?”

Osferth looked up, his surprise apparent with her bold words; the shades darkened across her cheeks, her lips wet from her tongue, and he had the intrusive thought, she is beautiful.

“This is not necessary–” but his words stilled on his tongue as her soft fingers wiped themselves clean on the fabric on his pant leg, the tug of fabric jolting the length of his spine. Osferth shifted his weight as her silk touch dipped into his waistband and followed back towards his center where his cock began to press against his breeches.

She licked her lips again and he now saw how lust swallowed the color of her eyes. “This is why I am here, my lord,” her voice was low, sultry and smooth like velvet as she repeated, “I choose to serve.”

And her fingers were quick to unlace and pull at his slacks until they puddled at his feet, her touch still gentle to push until he sat back in the chair. She followed, slowly sinking between his splayed legs, her hands resting on his knees to keep her balance and her eyes were up, never leaving his.

Osferth burned under her gaze, her lustful scrutiny before she blinked, breaking the spell, and her attention refocusing on his length; her eyes traveled the ridges and veins, the shift of color to the red shine of his cockhead. He whimpered at her touch, the slow curl of her fingers around the base, and she gave a tug, watching the wetness that trickled.

She was a vision, her thighs plush as she rested on her heels between, one hand rested on his bare thigh and the other around his cock. The vision she made caught his breath, and when she leaned forward, the air staled in his lungs, watching rapt as her lips pressed against his flushed head. Her tongue cleaned his spill before she began to take him into her mouth and he exhaled sharp feeling her wet muscle pressing to the underside, slavering over his girth, relaxing her throat to press until the patch of hair above tickled her nose; she hollowed her cheeks as she fell back, the glisten of her saliva, and she took a deep breath through her nose before she returned again.

Osferth moaned unabashed, a white hold of his hands on the edge of his seat, his eyes rolled to the back and his head lolled with. He felt her palm tighten around what could not fully fit in her mouth, and he watched the bob of her head following his length; he grit his teeth with another guttural groan that reverberated from the back of his throat.

His hands moved to rest on her shoulders, a firm hold to ground himself, and she quickened her pace at his touch; the glide of her swollen lips in tandem with her tongue, the lewd noises that spilled with the spit at the corners of her mouth.

And he saw the stars spark in front of his eyes, lost in the overwhelming heat of her mouth; his thighs began to tremble, the pulse and swell of his cock with her ministrations. She seemed to notice and she hummed, the vibration rippling through his veins and towards the base of his spine, a push over the edge he precariously balanced with vibrant flashes of colors.

“God!” He gasped. Gods? He was no longer certain as he followed blindly after his pleasure, the buck of his hips in his seat to sate the suction of her mouth that seemed determined to milk the last drop of his release, until he cried out from the oversaturation of pleasure.

His chest heaved, a dulled ache, and he moaned loudly as she slowly pulled away, her tongue trailing the underside of his still half-hard cock. She paused at the end, a glassy eyed exchanged, and then suckled. Osferth could not help but whine pitifully, and he felt the curl of her lips; he watched as she let him drop from her mouth, her fingers wiping her corners and her tongue licking them clean.

Osferth tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

“I will see if your bath is ready, my lord,” and she pushed to stand.

Osferth watched her go, the rumpled fabric of her gown now settling over her curves, the sensual sway of her hips. He could not stop the words that spilled from his mouth. “Would you care to join me?”

She paused and looked back at him, with her hooded eyes and heady stare, the candlelight glimmering in the black that swallowed the color of her irises. “Whatever you desire,” and her sinful mouth curled upwards. “My lord.”

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @aemondx @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire

arcie's masterlist

#fic recs #no one writes osferth like arcie!#my moots are more talented than yours #so glad I read this before bed

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arcielee · 4 months ago

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ARCIE 💜 i think i over did it ._. for the writing ask 😘

1, 2, 4, 9, 10, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 32, 35, 37, 38, 43, 44, 53, 66, 69, 72, 73, 75, 78, 81, 86, 88, 94, 99 👀

All right, Mrs Hardy. Let's do this. 😈

1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

When I first started writing, it was because I had one scene on reply in my brain and I had to get it out of my head (an example of that would be The Sapphire Prince). \

I much prefer my method now, which is word vomit every thought in my head into a doc, which can be events, notes, random conversations the characters we have to whole ass paragraphs.

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

Again, The Sapphire Prince. That story was such a cluster fuck and nobody did anything I wanted them too. 😭 I couldn't even have a sweet moment for my boy Ser Erryk in that damn story!

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

First, shout out to my beloved @some-distant-star for telling me yesterday wtf this is. 💜

Probably my Dane!Osferth story that thrums around in my mind. I think it continues to rattle around because I need to figure out how to keep what makes Osferth Osferth, but also have Dane tendencies? I actually started my word vomit doc for it, so we'll see what happens.

9. in an ideal world where you’re already super successful and published, would you want to see a tv or movie adaptation of your work? why or why not?

This is tricky. I have seen situations where the movie did better than the book, but then I am also watching House of the Dragon and have become one of those mouth breathers who say, "But in Fire & Blood...!"

It can be an anime. 🥰

10. at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

Titles are the hardest thing about writing for me. Like, let me shell out 30k+ words for a story and then panic over wtf to even call it. (Dancing in the Dark remained title-less until I finally started going through random Spotify playlists, like a raccoon rummaging through garbage, if you will.)

12. do you ever have trouble focusing on writing? how do you get around that?

If a story keeps escaping me, I will take my dog on long walks and see if it can come to me. By this, I mean I am the crazy lady in a sun hat who is talking to herself while her dog looks confused.

[Image: my dog, who sometimes edits for treats]

If that does not stir my muses, I do not force it and just go wherever they lead me. I have written an entire ass story in the middle of another story so I could clear my head of it and finish on the original.

13. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.

Probably my Call It Dreaming series? It was my first ever Reader Insert that my beloved @f4ll-for-you helped me with, and it profoundly changed my writing style.

14. what’s your worst writing habit?

Probably my overuse of semi-colons.

16. where is your favorite place to write?

Anywhere, everywhere. I have my MacBook that I bring with me, I have a notebook brimming with my ideas, and my phone notepad looking a hot mess.

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

I really love describing Aemond, but this also comes to mind:

They were all moths drawn to his flame, fluttering with their desperation to touch. You pushed through them, determined to be burned.

All the wild hearted ambition

18. what is your most and least favorite part of writing?

My favorite? The beginning. I love day dreaming, brainstorming, fleshing out a new idea. I love how it repeats in my brain and lulls me to sleep at night.

My least favorite? Saying goodbye. Once it is written, it is gone from my mind.

19. what are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

Patricia Highsmith's prose style had a huge impact for me. Also Margaret Mitchell crafted my writing in the sense that I could see everything in her story unfold in front of my eyes and I wanted to pay that forward.

20. what is your favorite trope to write?

Probably mutual pining with a sprinkle of slow burn. 🥰

21. pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.

A.C. Crispin and it would be a scifi adventure with a ragtag group surviving life after Earth.

32. do characters influence your writing style?

Yes. For myself, I do not enjoy writing for a character that I don't fully understand. My goal, always, is to make it sound like it was pulled from the original content.

35. tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot

This man.

I haven't forgotten. I need you to watch this.

37. when creating characters, what comes first: appearance, backstory, motivation, personality, something else?

It is reactions to the plot shenanigans. This helps me visualize and create a backstory for them.

38. how many stories do you work on at one time?

I have 10 WIPs currently, and 2 which I am actively working on.

43. how did writing change you?

For myself, writing allows that processing time that I need to understand something that happened. It is healing for me. (ex. To Build a Home)

44. any writing advice you want to share?

It is very easy to get swept away with notes and kudos, but if you are not enjoying the process, then what is the point?

Also, the best advice I ever received came from my beloved @sylasthegrim who told me to focus on what they were feeling as opposed to the action that was being done. (Ilysm 💜)

53. when writing, do you have an outline? and do you stick to it?

I do now! And it actually helps me stay on track with the fucking plot, which I definitely need.

66. when have you felt the most confident in your writing?

That is something I still struggle with. Like, I am please with how I have evolved as a write, but then I read someone else's masterpiece and figure it would be best if I unplug my PC and walk myself into the nearest body of water. 😆

69. how do you write emotional scenes? do you ever feel what the characters feel?

Their emotions are my emotions, and it can make or break my day.

72. what do you do if a scene gets too serious?

I follow the muses. If it is needed, it is written.

73. how do you visualize scenes? do you see it like a movie in your head, or do the words just flow?

I can see it playing in my head and I narrate it, out loud, to myself. Then I frantically type or write it down before it leaves me.

75. do you know how your story ends before you start writing?

Most of the time, yes. But if I am trying to write out what I outlined and it is not coming together, I will drop the WIP for a while and let it simmer a bit longer.

78. how do you choose where to end a chapter?

This depends: so, sometimes I write out an entire story, look over the work count, and take that into consideration when I am chopping it up. Other times I outline certain events that need to take place before the chapter can end.

81. if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

"Girl, please, for the love of fuck, end that goddamn sentence."

86. which season best matches the mood of your wip(s)?

The kind of winter you see at the wall.

88. if you could have another author write your wip for you (bc we all dream of this occasionally), who would it be?

Oh my goodness, gather round my talented Tumblr kindred spirits, I would pass these out like Halloween candy. 😆

94. do you prefer dialogue or description?

99. was being a writer a dream of yours when you were little? or did it spring up when your older? or is it just a hobby?

I have been writing since I hit double digits. I still have these ridiculous notebooks with glitter covers that are filled, front to back, with my original attempts at writing.

My husband understands to burn them when I am dead. 🥰

ask game for fanfic writers

#ask arcie #mrs hardy ilysm 💜

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