#Leif x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fantasydreamland · 5 months ago

Text

New Friend

leif eriksson x fem reader

Summary: You quickly become good friends with a man you have just met. His crew is set out for battle and in need of your healing skills. As you accompany them on the journey you grow even closer to your new friend.

Notes: 18+ only!!! Mostly fluff, some smut, spoilers kinda, mini chapters.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

Chapter 1

“Who is that?” Leif asks Freydis, staring toward the ships docking.

“I do not know. It looks like a returning merchant ship.” Freydis responds. “Why?”

Leif shrugs in response and walks off stealing glances in your direction. He watches you from the other side of the dock and when your bright (e/c) eyes connect with his he doesn’t look away. It surprises him when you hold the eye contact and give him a bashful smile. He smiles back before you turn away continuing on with unloading the boat.

Later that night there is a feast in the main hall. The room bustles with loud conversation and laughter as everyone enjoys their food and drink. Leif occasionally glances around the room in search of you.

“Who are you looking for?” Freydis asks.

“What?” Leif says caught off guard. “No one.” He shrugs and looks down as he eats his food.

The night goes on and the tables become less crowded as the ale puts to sleep those who over indulged. Leif finally notices you on the opposite side of the hall. He frowns when he sees you sitting alone looking tired and sad.

“Excuse me.” Leif says to the table before getting up.

He casually wanders his way over to you. Your eyes meet his as he cautiously approaches the table and sits across from you. You look at him with a confused smile and questioning eyes.

“Hi.” He finally says. “I’m Leif. Eriksson.”

“Hi.” You smile. “(y/n).”

He gently shakes your hand, your soft fingers brushing against his calloused ones.

“You looked so lonely over here.” He says almost as a question. “I felt I needed to come and check on you.”

“Well, thank you sir.” You smile even warmer at him.

Your smile made his heart swell. He nearly missed what you said next because he was so hypnotized by it.

“My supper companions… have found company for the night.” You say jokingly rolling your eyes.

“Are you merchants?” He asks.

“Better healer than a tradesman I’m afraid. But I travel with the merchants usually. It’s a good way to see some of the world, and they are always in need of a healer.” You instantly begin to open up to him, not really understanding why.

“So you are from Kattegat then?”

“Yes, I was born here. My mother died of illness not long ago… I never knew my father. It will always be home but I want to go out and live my life, you know? We only have so much of it…”

You take a sip of your drink to hide your blush when you realize you’re over sharing to this total stranger.

“I am sorry to hear about your mother.” He places a hand on yours.

You simply nod in response as you choke back the incoming tears.

“So, where are you from?” You ask him, desperately wanting to change the topic.

“Greenland.” He simply says.

“What brings you to Kattegat?”

“I am just passing through.” He lightly shrugs.

“Oh? And how long are you staying?”

“We leave in two days.”

You try to hide your slight disappointment but Leif notices the change in your face.

“We… are in need of a healer.” He suggests. “If you would be willing to come.”

“Where are we going?” You phrase the question as if you’ve already decided.

“That is um… complicated. It would be best if you did not know.” He hesitates.

“Ok…” You furrow your brows at him. “Is it far?”

“No. Not far at all. We are traveling by foot but we also have some horses. Myself and a small crew. It should only take us a few days to get there.”

“Ok… and why are we going to this mysterious place that I shall not know of?” You ask, your expression unreadable.

“There is a battle to be had…” He says lowly.

“Ok…” You say once again. “…and what is this battle?”

“It um- would be best if you did not know that either.” He knew how it all sounded so he did not expect your next words.

“Well… in that case I better go and sleep off this ale. If there is to be a battle, I have much to prepare before we depart.” You say as you stand from the table.

“I- uh- ok. Ok great.” Leif says in surprise. “I can walk you to your house?”

You nod with a smile and take his arm before leaving the hall. Leif makes light conversation with you as you walk the short path to your small house. Your arm fits around his so comfortably but the feeling makes your cheeks burn. You let go once you arrive at your door.

“Goodnight then, Greenlander.” You smile. “I shall see you in the morning?”

“Yes. Yes, see you in the morning.” He smiles back. “Goodnight, (y/n).”

—

Chapter 2

You meet with Leif the next morning and he introduces you to the small crew.

“This is Harald Siguredsson… And my sister, Freydis Eriksdotter.”

You get acquainted with everyone as they welcome you warmly. You discuss medicines and other things you may need for the travels. Leif keeps his eyes firmly on you as you talk with the others but you pretend not to notice.

“I shall see all of you tomorrow then.” You say to the group once you’re finished, eyes lingering on Leif.

They say their goodbyes but Leif catches up to you as you turn away.

“Do you need help with preparing anything?”

You smile warmly at him and nod. “I could certainly use some help, yes.”

You walk back to your house and Leif follows you inside. He looks around your small but cozy space. The small kitchen has a large table in the corner covered in different herbs and flowers and multiple mortars scattered about it. There was curtains hanging in the doorway to a small bedroom. Through the crack he caught a glimpse of your bed and a tub in the corner. You begin to organize the messy table as you make your preparations.

“What can I do?” Leif walks over to you.

You smile up at him. Each time you smiled at him it made his heart skip a beat. You hand him a mortar and pestle along with some plants.

“I need you to grind these up for me. As fine as you can please, the leafs will start to form a paste.”

He simply nods and begins crushing the herbs before him. As you both work with busy hands you ask more about him and his life and he tells you of Greenland and of his family. He then asks you about yours and you tell him how you grew up on a small farm at the edges of Kattegat with your mother. She taught you all about plants and healing mixtures. After she died you moved to a smaller place and began the occasional travel with the merchants, making coin with your healing skills. You enjoyed the escape but you always returned home.

It felt oddly comfortable to open up to Leif. The conversation seemed to flow between you like you had known each other for years.

“When did she die?” Leif asks.

Your hands pause and you frown looking down.

“6 months ago.” You choke out as you hold back tears.

“I am sorry…” He places his hand over yours.

Tears still in your eyes, you give him a soft smile and squeeze his hand in response before resuming your preparations. After that you mostly work in comfortable silence, occasionally giving Leif a new plant to grind and him asking questions about what they do. Then there were the silent glances and smiles that made your heart beat a little faster.

Once everything was finally prepared the sun had begun to set. You say goodnight to each other as Leif gets ready to head back to the inn.

“Thank you so much for your help today.” You say as he stands in the open doorway. “You have helped me more than you know.”

“Anytime.” He simply smiles and heads out the door. “See you tomorrow!” He calls behind him.

“See you.” You say under your breath.

—

Chapter 3

The next morning you wake and gather up your things for the trip. You walk down to the inn that the majority of the crew were staying at. You see Freydis outside and she waves you over with a smile.

“Good morning!” She smiles as she grabs your bags from you and hands them to another man loading the cart.

“Thank you.” You smile. “And good morning.”

You see the whole crew on the move preparing for the trip. Until someone was sick or wounded there was not much else for you to do.

“Can I do anything to help?” You ask Freydis.

“Hmm, uh, yes actually! Can you go and wake Leif?” She asks. “He is still sleeping and we are leaving soon.”

“Uh, yes sure.” You nod.

“Thank you, he is in room 3.” She gestures her head to the inn. “Down the hall, last door on the left. Please be quick about it we are almost ready.”

You nod again and quickly make your way into the inn and find room 3 down the hall. You fully expected Leif to be asleep in his bed so you open the door knocking lightly. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head when you see him standing there shirtless. Your eyes quickly trace over the tattoos on his muscular back before he turns around and notices you. You catch a glimpse of his bare hips as he pulls his pants up. Your eyes dart back up to his questioning ones. You have to focus to stop your eyes from wandering back down to where his hands were lacing up his pants, also bringing attention to his toned abs.

“I- uh. Sorry. We- uh. Um. We- uh.” The heat rises in your cheeks as you stand there feeling like a stuttering idiot.

You clear your throat and finally get the words out. “We are leaving…”

“Ok, I am ready. I was just getting dressed.” He says nonchalantly as he pulls his shirt over his head, clearly not noticing how flustered you are.

You follow him out of the building and join the rest of the group as you head off for the journey.

—

Chapter 4

You walk all day with the group, sharing stories and laughs along the way. Considering you did not know where you were going or what battle awaited them you felt safe with your companions.

Once the sun begins to set you find a spot to camp for the night. You eat supper around the campfire chatting away to Freydis sitting beside you. Occasionally you would catch Leif watching you from across the fire.

The temperature drops as the night gets later. Everyone begins to say their goodnights and retreat to their tents. Soon you and Leif are left alone sitting across each other. Your eyes meet in glances causing a soft smile from Leif. You stare back into the fire to hide your blushing. Shivering a little, you pull your cloak tighter around yourself.

“You look cold.” Leif breaks the silence.

“How observant of you.” You playfully tease. “That would be because I am.”

“Why don’t you come over here? We can keep each other warm.” He smiles.

You meet his eyes for a moment before crawling around the fire and cuddling up beside him as he wraps his arm around you. The heat radiating from his body warms you instantly. You both sit in comfortable silence looking into the fire. After a moment he rests his head on top of yours making your heart swell. As soon as you rest your eyes you began to drift off to sleep. Leif could feel your body beginning to go limp and held you tighter.

“Hey…” He whispers to you as you wake again. “Why don’t you go and get some sleep? I’ll help you to your tent.”

“I am fine.” You say shaking off your sleepiness. You did not want to go back to your cold tent alone you just wanted to remain in his warm arms.

“Do you not want to sleep?” He pulls back to raise his eyebrow at you.

“I just want to remain here with you.” You sheepishly admit.

Leif can’t help the wide grin that comes to his face.

“Well, we cannot sleep out here in the cold.” He begins to move to stand.

“Leif-“ You grab his arm, making him sit back down.

His confused eyes meet yours but then soften when he understands the unspoken words behind your eyes while you stare deeply into his.

He leans towards you, eyes briefly glancing to your lips. He moves at a pace that causes the anticipation to ache in your chest. Finally, his lips brush against yours in a soft tender kiss. You could feel the sparks the second your lips touched like fireworks had just gone off inside you both. He pulls away softly and smiles to you before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“We should get some sleep. We could continue to keep each other warm?” He says standing up and holding his hand out to you.

You nod and take his hand as he pulls you up to stand. He continues to hold onto your hand as he leads you to his tent, which was slightly larger than yours.

Once inside you shed your cloak and top layers, placing them in the corner. Leif does the same until you are both left in your thin shirts and bottoms. You crawl under the furs and cuddle up to him for warmth. He pulls you in close, wrapping both his strong arms tightly around you. Your heart races as his embrace feels so unfamiliar yet so comfortable. You close your eyes to sleep. He kisses the top of your head causing a smile to form on your lips. His steady heartbeat thumping against your ear causes you to quickly drift off into a peaceful sleep, more peaceful than either of you have had in a long time.

The next morning you throw the rest of your clothing back on and crawl out of Leif’s tent after your bladder had woken you up. You jump when your eyes are met by a single Viking already starting up the morning fire. Harald gives you a knowing smirk and raises his brow at you, glancing between you and Leif’s tent. You give him an embarrassed smile before you hurry away into the woods.

—

Chapter 5

You and Leif had not had a moment to speak alone as you traveled with the group for most of the day. You did not think you were acting any different but the others could sense something had shifted. When you finally stop to make camp you suggest that you and Leif should try to find some fish at the nearby river.

“How did you sleep?” Leif asks as you walk together.

“Very well.” You smile at him. “And you?”

“Very well.” He smiles back.

“I believe I can take some credit for your peaceful sleep.” You wink.

“I suppose I could do the same.” He smirks.

“I have never met anyone quite like you Greenlander.” You smile adoringly.

“I have never met anyone quite like you, (y/n). I think I-“ He pauses.

“What?” You turn to him as you both stop walking.

“I think I am in love with you.” He admits.

“Leif-“

Before you can respond he boldly grabs your face and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. You freeze for a moment of surprise before relaxing against him and throwing your arms around his neck. The kiss continues and his tongue slips in to gently caress yours. He is gentle and passionate and all you can think is how you love this man too.

“Leif…” You whisper when your lips part.

Your eyes meet and he looks at you with pure adoration.

“We have fish to catch…” You say and he nods removing his hands from your face.

“And…” You move your hand to brush his cheek with your thumb. “I think I am in love with you too.”

He grins widely and places another quick kiss to your lips. You hold his hand as you make your way to the river to catch some fish for supper.

—

Chapter 6

As soon as the sun began to rise so did the crew. You rush around with them as they pack up camp. They needed to continue traveling as soon as possible, they planned to reach the battle today.

They soon stop again to make one last camp in preparation for the battle. You had a tent set up with a large work table and you begin to prepare everything you may need following the fight.

Leif steps into your tent to say goodbye. He quickly cups your cheeks and gives a firm kiss to your lips. You pull him close as you kiss him back.

“Please do not die.” You whisper as your thumb strokes the hand on your face.

“I will do my best.” He places a final kiss to your forehead and walks out of the tent. He could not bear spending long to say goodbye to you knowing it could be the last time.

You had been pacing for hours now waiting for everyone to return from the battle. Waiting for Leif to return. The more time that passes the more you worry. There was a very real chance he may never return. A very real chance he had been killed. The thoughts swirl around in your mind and cause your chest to tighten.

Finally, you hear the commotion outside of people returning. You run out and desperately search around for Leif. You spot the rest of your crew and your heart sinks. You begin to walk over to Freydis but before she spots you a hand grabs your shoulder. You spin around to see Leif standing behind you shirtless, covered in blood and dirt, with wild messy hair. His face expressionless.

“Oh Leif!” You throw your arms around him not caring about the blood now staining your clothes. “I was so worried I had lost you for good… Are you hurt?” You pull back and examine him frantically for any noticeable wounds.

“I am fine. Can we go inside?” He says flatly.

You raise a brow at his tone but then nod and follow him into the tent. Once the curtains are shut you turn to Leif.

“Are you alright?” You barely get the words out before his lips are on yours, pulling you into a ferocious kiss that takes your breath away.

“No.” He mumbles against your lips. “There were moments… I thought I would never… see you again.” He says between kisses.

He cups your face and kisses you hungrily like a starved animal. The air is filled with a mountain of different emotions as you kiss him back with a burning passion. His tongue demands entrance and you happily oblige. The metallic taste of the blood on his lips makes you pull him closer to you, the fear of nearly losing him today too much to bear.

Suddenly he lifts you up and throws you down onto the table causing a bunch of things to clatter to the ground. You pay no attention to the fallen items as he starts kissing and nipping at your neck. You feel his hardness pushing against your core and it lights a fire within you. Your hands wander all over each other as your lips connect again. You run your fingers over his bloody chest and strong biceps as he moves to grab your breasts through your shirt.

As things become more heated you begin to tear at each other’s clothes. He shoves your skirts up to your hips and grinds harder against you, making you gasp into his mouth. He begins pulling the laces of your top as you frantically fumble with the strings of his pants. Your body felt electric from how desperately you needed him right now. Your mind was completely blurred by the feeling him.

Before you could get any further Freydis bursts into the tent startling you both.

“Oh… I- uh- I am sorry…” She stutters in surprise. “But we uh- need our healer out here.”

“Yes, of course of course. Apologies...” You quickly scramble to your feet and straighten yourself out.

Freydis gives you a nod and a knowing smirk to Leif before leaving the tent. You turn to Leif who’s now holding a damp rag. He gently wipes off the bit of blood from your face and neck. It was a sweet gesture although you knew you would be covered in blood again in a moment once you helped the wounded. His eyes meet yours and he smiles down at you before kissing your forehead.

“Go on.” He gestures his head to outside.

“I am so glad you are alive and safe.” You grab his hands and kiss his lips once more.

He did not need to respond for you to know exactly how he felt. You smile and gaze lovingly at each other before you move to gather your supplies, including those now on the floor, and exit the tent. You tried not to let the overwhelming thoughts of him cloud your mind while you worked. You could not help but count the minutes until you could have privacy with him tonight.

—

masterlist

57 notes · View notes

introverted-imagineer · 2 years ago

Text

Renegades (Part 2)

Warnings: Language, Violence, Religious Themes, Romantic Themes.

‘You cannot ignore me forever, young one’ he said so philosophically.

‘Yeah? Well I’ve been doing it for all these years so far’ I snarled back

‘And yet, you end up here, in this unhappy place, you can’t escape fate Y/N, it has come to you’

‘You aren’t real, you are an illusion, a ghost, a figment of my imagination’ I sternly retorted, more to convince myself more than anything.

‘People travel great lengths to find me Y/N, I see all, yet people do all to see me’

‘Then why don’t you go annoy those people’

‘Who are you talking to?’

My body jolted at the sudden interruption, abruptly sitting up to find Leif in the same spot as last night, only standing with a curious and concerned look on his face. ‘Nobody…just myself’ I whispered, burying myself into the blanket. I could sense Leif sitting there, that puzzled look of contemplation on his face. ‘I forgot you were there’ I mumbled, more to myself than Leif. I could hear him smirk at the comment.

That was a rule when I was young…when he first started to appear. Mother put it down to the side effects of the flu…but his visits became more frequent as I grew older. Frightening as he was, his eyes sewn shut, his lips the colour of liquid tar, pale and hooded like a lost soul in the night. His presence however was never as petrifying as it seemed to others. Although nobody else seemed to be able to see him, my mother shook in her boots whenever she caught me talking to him. ‘You are not well Y/N, there is nobody there’ she would say soothingly, calmly brushing my hair back. Looking back though, I think she was more afraid of me than him. The rule was set in place when it became too frequent and too much for her. Never ever let anyone know anything.

‘Are you going to kill me now?’ I whispered, my eyes averted to the floor so as to not look him in the eyes. That look of his, so painfully intriguing. It would be less troublesome to keep my eyes averted than to find myself encapsulated in his gaze. I could see his feet freeze in place as his feet pivoted in my direction. ‘I won’t’ he said under his breath to himself as he busied himself by adjusting the axe in his belt. It was comforting, even if he didn’t mean for me to hear, but that only applied to my existence confined within these walls. On the other side…that was a different story.

‘Am I the only one left?’ I timidly questioned, my only ounce of protection being the blanket I desperately wrapped my body into. He took in a deep breath, one that encapsulated the whole of his body as it heavily moved up and down. He turned around as if offended by the question. ‘Maybe you should just focus on yourself’ he huffed as he reached for the door, slamming it shut behind him. The board jiggled behind him as I could hear the wooden plank slide back into the place where Mother Brynhorn had done before.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

I hated this place, I hated everything about it. From the windowless rooms that served more as torture chambers, to the mice that scuttled through the gaping holes in the stone-cracked walls, to the daily routine of silence and prayer that made one's knees cripple each day. But most of all, I hated the people. The evil, cruelness that radiated the walls. Christians, they called themselves, a people living truly under God’s rule.

But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.

Love, however, did not apply to farm girls who saw things that others could not…

Outside this existence, I was just a daughter to a humble family. Christian, rural, a child amongst many. The youngest of brothers, a welcome blessing to my mother as she had said. Father had not too much to say on the matter of having a girl, but there was one thing that was undeniably true. Once I was born, my father barely ever touched my mother again.

‘Danger comes to you my child’

‘Didn’t I just tell you to leave me alone’ I snarled as the poltergeist stood in the corner of the room.

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, looking into my soul through his. He didn’t need eyes, he clearly had something more powerful. But as mother says…it’s not real.

‘The God’s have sent me to you, it is no choice of mine, nor is it yours’ he murmured in a tone that sends shivers down my spine.

‘Well you just tell the Go…’ I begun to lecture, before I looked up to see his presence disappear. A piercing screech scraped across the outside of the door making my teeth chatter. The door flung open to reveal Leif stood there, another man by his side watching over.

‘You must come with me’ he sa himid quietly, a sensation of dread in his voice. I grounded my feet flat on the floor, clutching onto the lumpy mattress as I adamantly shook my head in disagreement. ‘you must’ he said, taking a step forward. I took in a deep gasp as anxiety and panic took over. Whimpers came out as I stuttered, pleading to be left alone. Dying alone in this room of starvation, cold, eaten alive by rats was more desirable than facing the Vikings on the other side of the door…their King in particular whose brief encounter was enough to haunt my dreams forever. I could hear Leif inhale a deep breath, his strong hand then clasping onto my upper arm, prying my body from its place, practically storming out the door and down the corridor.

My terrified cries of pleas went unnoticed by the Greenlander, his counterparts loitered up and down the corridor, laughing at my cries of distress. Leif however had his gaze fixed upon the task at hand. Taking me to my death.

I collapsed to the floor with a loud thud, the door to the grand hall slamming shut behind me as Leif took a step back from the large circle of Vikings stood in a circle around the ceremonial throne. My body shook as it collided with the cold wooden floor, my teeth sounding as they slammed together chattering as my chin shook. My state of despair was pleasing to the Vikings as they roared in laughter, downing sacramental wine as if it were water. A muffled shout sounded from the ceremonial throne. I slowly looked up to find Elder Aefentid tied to the seat, his mouth gagged by the ropes that usually rested around his waist. His look mirrored my petrified state.

‘Well, I didn’t expect to see you here young one’ that deep haunting voice taunted. The Vikings in the room went silent, standing to attention as the doors to the hall slammed shut. Every eye in the room was fixated on the man behind me. I kept my head down.

His footsteps loud, paced forward incredibly slowly, coming closer and closer to me as I sat knelt on the floor with my eyes glued to the floor. I body jolted as a gentle brush of fingers danced on my head. His thick finger swirled the locks on top of my head, wrapping them around his finger. ‘And yet, here you are’ he noted, as if it were a grand performance. His body slammed to the ground, as he knelt next to me, clutching my neck within his palm, forcing me to look at Elder Aefentid. His petrified eyes looked back at mine. I let out a wail, letting out a deep cry. The King chuckled to himself, wrapping his other arm around my body, pulling my body into his embrace as he placed his lips upon my temple. ‘Shush, shush, shush’ he cried, performing to the spectators around him. His cruelness not escaping me. His grasp around my throat slightly tightened threateningly. ‘Tell us child, who is the man in the chair?’ He beseeched. Hot tears fell down my cheek as I tried to shake my head, but the King's hand held onto my neck rigidly, trapping my face where it was. His clutch tightened even more, stopping the already weak airflow from travelling to my lungs. ‘I will ask you again, who is the man in that chair?’

‘E..El…Elder Aefentid’ I choked out in a whisper. The King shook his head, his eyes averted to the ground, dissatisfied with the answer to the question he so desperately sought. ‘He is the leader here’ I whispered. The King's demeanour changed from one of dissatisfaction to genuine pleasure as his mouth broke into a grin, a deep laugh emitting from his stomach. The King stood from the floor, his hand unclasping from my throat, using my head to hoist his balance from the ground. The Vikings around him joined in with his laughter as the King paraded around the circle. ‘THIS MAN, A LEADER!’ He cried to his subjects. Their roars of laughter emitting even louder. However one stood apart from all the others, quiet, stone-faced, impassive. Leif Erikkson stuck out like a sore thumb.

Canute walked up to the constricted man in the ceremonial throne. Elder Aefentid, yesterday a powerful malicious leader, today a prisoner in his own home. The King mockingly ripped the rope from Elder Aefentid’s mouth, his neck whiplashing at the speed and strength which he did.

‘YOU VIKING SCUM, GOD WILL SEE TO IT YOU ALL ROT IN THE DEEPEST DEPTHS OF HELL’ he screamed, his throat slightly raspy in his delivery. The Viking King rounded the throne, looking undeterred by his verbal assault. The King stood there, leaning against the side of the throne, his arm extending, pointing his finger directly at me. ‘You speak old Norse, tell me what your leader said’ emphasising the term leader in a tone of disparagement. I could feel my jaw drop from beneath me, while my muscles clenched and my throat closed. ‘What. Did. He. Say?’ He demanded, taking a step forward between each word toward me.

‘He urges you to seek Christ’ I retorted. The King seemed sinisterly pleased. ‘THIS MAN CLAIMS TO SERVE GOD’ he cried to the Vikings. This seemed to spark a different response. Instead of a roar of laughter, the Vikings responded in anger, grunting and yelling. The King walked toward Aefentid, reaching into his shirt, and pulling out a bejewelled crucifix tied to his neck. I could swear his eyes popped out of his skull at the thought of Christian Vikings. The King chuckled at Aefentid. ‘KING ÆTHELRED WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS’ he cried.

At his threat, his attention was captured by everyone in the room, even Leif Erikson directed his gaze toward the bound man. ‘Æthelred’ The Viking King repeated, lowering his gaze to look directly into his prisoner's eyes. ‘What did he say child?’ His voice called, not breaking contact with Aefentid as they stared at one another. ‘H..he says the King will seek justice…’ I stuttered out. ‘FILTHY LITTLE VIKING BITCH’ Elder Aefentid cried, leaning to the side in order to catch my gaze, making sure his words penetrated my very soul. The Viking King turned around, all eyes in the room now directed at me as I sat on the ground in the middle of the room. ‘And?’ The Viking King questioned, his hands gesturing toward me. ‘He is displeased with me’ I whispered.

The Viking King simply nodded, standing back up to his tall figure, grasping the rope from the ground, and shoving it violently back into Elder Aefentid’s mouth. ‘While I am displeased myself…’ he spoke, directing his gaze between Leif and me, his disappointment more directed at Leif. ‘Your speaking our language is very….opportune’ he said, scheming as he spoke. I could see out the corner of my eye Leif’s chest rise and fall deeply, whether it was out of relief or frustration I didn’t know. ‘Your life will be spared for now, you will spend your days helping me …refine my knowledge of the saxon language’ he said, wiggling his finger satisfied with his cunning plan. ‘But if you should be unsuccessful, or deceitful, you will suffer a fate worse than death’. His plan struck me to my core, I was a farmer's daughter, now a postulant, now a teacher to a Viking King. Which of the three was worse, I couldn’t be sure, but I was terrified at the thought of spending my days alone with the Viking King. Elder Aefentid continued to scream profanities and muffled screams at the occupants of the room, but his cries went unnoticed by the Vikings as they busied themselves. Behind the throne, out of nowhere, he appeared again. The hooded figure stood solemnly beside the throne, unnoticed to everyone else, nodding his head at me.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

A new beginning had dawned on the Monastery. I was so used to silence, that even the sounds of people talking outside in the corridor put me on edge. I had not seen any of the sisters or brothers since Elder Aefentid sat in his mighty chair, only he was puny.

I spent the days confined to my tiny windowless room. When the King demanded it, I was escorted to the Monks Library where the King required me to translate words, and passages and teach him to communicate in the Saxon language. So far, it had been fine, but The Viking King, Canute, made sure I knew what was at stake. He was always armed and made it known he had no issues punishing his property. I was still a servant, a prisoner, the only thing different being the man who demanded everything.

It seemed an age the since the Vikings had first come. Some days it seemed there were more, other days less. The Viking’s clearly weren’t here for a sabbatical, nor to raid. The Monastery seemed however, a convenient stop in their greater plans. As time went on, their faces became more familiar. Sometimes they’d leave as a group for days, others would go individually. Leif Erikson seemed to have disappeared altogether…

While King Canute had demanded I help him refine his knowledge of the Saxon language, from our first private meeting it seemed clear that he didn’t really need all that much help. His intention was unclear, but there was something sinister about his presence as if he were probing for something more valuable than language. As each session went by, the King was more curious about concerns of the Monastery, the fields around, and why nobody else seemed to live anywhere near here…how often travellers came through. I spent more time answering questions than I did teaching him anything.

The King sat concentrating as he studied the symbols and texts of parchment that the Monks spent their days so delicately scribing.

‘Tell me child, what is the relationship between your leader and King ÆTthelred?’ He asked cautiously. ‘I don’t know, the sisters aren’t allowed to converse with the brothers’ I muttered. The King turned around, coming back to sit at the grand table in the middle of the library. ‘What is your connection with the Saxon King?’ He probed. I almost wanted to chuckle at the absurdity of his question. ‘I don’t understand?’ I whispered, my shoulders tensing as his nostrils flared in an unsatisfied manner. ‘I mean, do you work for the King?’ He said, reaching his hand across the table, clutching my wrist and squeezing it tightly. I could feel the blood flow to my wrist stop, my wrist turning pale under Canute’s clutch. ‘He comes here for communion and spiritual cleansing occasionally…only the Monks have been in his presence’. His grip loosened, but the clutch on my wrist remained. ‘The Queen comes sometimes too, but only Mother Brynhorn is permitted to speak with her’ I exclaimed. ‘Who is his Queen?’ He questioned, his grip tightening again, cramping my hand. My fingers curled into themselves, rigid and stiff at the pain. ‘Queen Emma of Normandy’ I seethed out in pain between clenched teeth.

His grip released as he smiled pleasingly to himself. ‘Normandy was founded by Vikings, did you know?’ He said more as a statement rather than a question. I shook my head. The truth was, I did know this as Elder Aefentid had cast cruel words at the Queen, but keeping this information withheld was likely to stop more questions and threats from King Canute. The King shot up from his seat, pushing the chair across the room behind him.

The door slightly opened, and a familiar face crept in. As our gazes connected, it was evident the shock upon my face, as his at mine. Since the grand hall, Leif Erikson had seemingly disappeared. Our concentrated stares were broken by Canute rising from his seat at the table. I stood to attention as the King’s chair scooted against the floor with a loud scrape.

‘Ah, Leif Erikson, just in time, please take the prisoner back to her room’.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Leif Erikson spared no mercy in escorting me back to my small room. His hand clutched my arm as he strode two paces ahead of me as he walked down the corridor, dragging me alongside him. He constantly clutched the hilt of the axe on his belt.

When we arrived at the boarding wing, Leif roughly opened the door, taking a look around to see the Vikings still watching him. He thrust me forward, shoving me onto the lumpy mattress. A few of the Vikings stood watching, chuckling to themselves as they prompted his vulgarity. ‘Good luck with that one Greenlander’ they called, lifting their goblets in a cheers motion, throwing a surreptitious suggestive wink in his direction. I could feel my heart beating fast, their euphemism did not escape me. The Greenlander nodded his head, stepping into the room cautiously, and closing the door behind him.

I scurried back on my hands, retreating into the corner of the room, clutching the bottom of my skirt so as to somehow create an extra layer between us. Leif took a deep breath, his eyes glancing up and down at me. His eyes captured mine, but his face showed no emotion. I could feel my body shake. He gently reached down, undoing the belt that sat around his waist, loosening it, and untying it slowly string by string until it came off. ‘P…please no….I….I….I’ve never’ I stammered. He lifted his eyebrow quizzically. As he took a step forward, I let out a yelp, closed my eyes, and cradled myself in a protective state. The end of the bed dipped as he sat down on the edge, he let out a loud sigh as a rustling noise emitted. I sat there, cradled into myself waiting for him to pounce, lay his hands on me, or even say something. But it was just silence.

His hair was tasselled and knotted, coming out of the bun I remembered it had been in before. His face was smeared with dried mud that cracked on his forehead, indicating a level of stress as his brows creased. His clothes were uncomfortably damp, chafing against his body. His gaze locked to the floor, seemingly defeated, yet relieved at the same time.

We sat silently, I sat there looking at him trying to piece the puzzle together of how he ended up in such a state. It had been weeks since I had seen the Greenlander, as Canute constantly referred to him as. He sat there, his elbows leaning on his legs, sitting there, solemnly content in the silence. ‘Leif’ I whispered, being careful not to move nor startle him as he sat silently in a meditative state. He let out a grunt, shaking his head slowly as if to say please.

‘I wouldn’t do that to you’ he whispered, wiping his sleeve across his nose as his neck dropped further down.

He sat in silence for longer, the room becoming darker as the sun set outside. I gently got up from the bed, circling in front of him, kneeling on the floor between his legs. Up close, his face was one of utter exhaust. His eyelids dropped as he tried to hold his eyes open. He could barely acknowledge my presence as he sat there, his body swaying as if it were about to buckle beneath him. I gently reached up to the collar of his damp coat, gently untying the strings, trailing down his chest until the fasteners were undone. He sat there rigidly, not saying a word, not making a move. I gently ran my palms under the fabric of the coat, my hands pressed against his solid, large shoulders. I pushed against them, almost revelling in the feeling of the sheer tightness of his skin. I ran my palms down his arms, sliding the coat off his body, gently peeling it from him. His shirt underneath, although still intact, was ripped and muddied. Whatever activity Leif Erikson had been up to, it wasn’t a leisurely trip. His arms limply fell from their resting place on his thighs as he allowed me to slide the wet coat off his arms, freeing him from the constricting material. His chin tilted only slightly, enough for our gaze to connect again through his drooping eyelids.

Nothing needed to be said though, his exhaustion was clear. I gently grasped onto his shoulders again, pushing him down into a laying position on the mattress. He let out a gentle sigh of relief, grateful for even the comfort of the world's lumpiest old mattress. I grabbed the blanket from the end of the bed, draping it carefully over his body.

By the time the blanket had draped over him, Leif Erikson was solemn in slumber.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

‘Y/N you’re sick, you need help’ my mother pleaded with teary eyes.

‘You promised it wouldn’t come to this, you swore we’d never tell’ I screamed back, scuttling along the floor and gazing up and my mother in fear.

‘I couldn’t keep it from him, he saw you, this is the best thing for you’ she breathlessly exclaimed, crawling toward me pleading.

‘It’s time to go Y/N’ My father sounded from the other end of the room sternly.

‘Please…Please don’t do this, it doesn’t need to be like this’ I screamed. But he stood there, firmly in place, firm in his hand, firm in his decision.

‘They are already here Y/N, you are going’ he said sternly, stiff in his body language as if to say this conversation was annoying more than anything.

I could feel my head hit the back of the wall, there being nowhere else to escape to.

‘She’s in here Father’ he called, turning around to greet those once strange eyes, but now so familiar. ‘Elder Aefentid, we are so grateful, our daughter needs more help than we can give her’. My father's tone changed so matter of factly as if he were a helpless man trying so hard to help his daughter. I couldn’t help but feel this was all too convenient for him. In his clutches, Elder Aefentid stood in the room, a bible in his clutch, a crucifix held firmly in his grasp.

‘Do you see him now child?’ Elder Aefentid questioned as he cautiously tip-toed into the room. Of course, I could, he hadn’t left all day, only stood there warning me that my fate was to unfold. I shook my head ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about father…’ I whispered through teary cries.

‘DO YOU SEE HIM NOW CHILD?’ He screamed.

‘Y/N’

I bolted up with a scream. I could feel my limbs unstick from one another as the feeling of cold sweat engulfed my body. The room was black, the floor cold beneath me, the only break of light coming from a single candle. The orange hue gently lit the face of Leif as he sat on the bed, his eyes full of unease.

‘You were yelling’ he said matter of factly, his tone clearly masking confusion. ‘I wasn’t yelling?’ I said questioningly, but I had known this to happen before. ‘You were yelling’ he said again in a much calmer tone, the light flickering in front of his face. I took in a deep breath, taking in every crevice of his face, the way his jaw chiselled, tensing and relaxing as his throat bobbled as he took in a deep gulp. I nodded curtly, as if to say I know, but I don’t want to know.

Leif sat on the bed, his legs over the side as he sat at the head of the bed. ‘How did I get here?’ He solemnly questioned, grazing his fingers over the mattress as the blanket lay gently across his lap. ‘You tell me, you were awfully tired’ I whispered back, shrugging my shoulders as he looked down at my place on the floor. There was something intense about his gaze, the way his eyes flickered up and down my body, a sense of curiosity and uncertainty as we sat between the flickering of orange. It was improper for me to be alone in here with him, but knowing there were plenty more Vikings on the other side of the door, I can’t lie in saying I wasn’t grateful for Leif’s presence.

His demeanour changed as he directed his gaze back to the floor, uncomfortable with the obvious query that loomed over us both. Where had Leif Erikson been all this time? Whether the details really mattered, but why he had come back, that was the mystery.

‘I will leave’ he whispered gingerly, slowly playing with the loose thread of the blanket that draped over him. His movements were slow, unwilling. When he rose from the bed his knees cracked beneath him, a gentle seethe of pain emitted from his teeth. ‘You’re hurt’ I breathed, getting up abruptly to steady his frame as his legs slightly wobbled beneath him. ‘I am fine’ he said as he stiffly straightened his rigid back, that cracking as well. ‘Just stay’ I whispered abruptly as I grabbed onto his biceps. As I stood there, only the smallest gap between us, his body towered over mine, his head dropped naturally as I looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes flickered, as mine did his. An eeriness of caution, waiting for the other to do something. But one thing was clear, I wasn’t willing to move, nor was he. ‘I um…’ I stuttered, as my fingers seemed to linger onto his skin much longer than was friendly.

*SLAM*

My palm flew to my face as I let out a shriek, my body jumping in fright at the sound of a pound against the door. Leif Erikson didn’t seem to even startle. My hands flew from him as I took a step away. The murmur of slurred singing in old norse could be heard as metal clanged against one another. Leif strode toward the door, poking his head out as I silently shook in my shoes, awaiting whatever the Vikings were doing. He silently closed the door, pressing a finger to his lips as he turned toward me. ‘Too much mead tends to bring out the lively side of Vikings’ he whispered in amusement. His smile seemed suppressed as he let out a long breath through his nostrils. I smiled back gently, tilting my lips just enough to show I appreciated his attempt at humour in my state of scare.

‘Maybe I should…’ he trailed. I simply nodded. ‘I would appreciate it’ I said. Leif quietly untied the fasteners of his belt, letting the tight fabric fall to the floor. I gently sat down at the end of the bed as he uncertainly took a seat at its head. The light flickered in the pitch-black room, only offering glimpses of one another.

I could feel a tingle deep within my stomach. My brain was telling me all the things I should know. This is improper, this is immoral, this is a disaster waiting to happen, and God will punish me. But something deep within my body shook, an urge I couldn’t shake. Like a roaring fire in my stomach that set my heart alight. I could feel the rhythmic pounding of my heartbeat turn to pulsate so strongly that radiated down my torso all the way down to my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, a poor attempt to suppress that pulsated between my legs. I could sense a tenseness as the blanket shifted beneath me. I glanced down to find Leif’s fingers nervously digging into the bed. My body involuntarily shivered as if something shot down my spine. ‘You are cold?’ He whispered, breaking the tense silence that encapsulated the room. ‘A little’ I whispered back, digging into the blanket with my fingers. Leif reached down to the ground and grabbed his coat, only to let out a dissatisfied breath. ‘It’s still wet sorry’ he said defeatedly.

The room retreated into silence again, the only sound emitting being a gentle sizzle of the flame as it burnt the candle. The feeling of desire was uncomfortable, but the obvious silence of awkwardness was unbearable. I gently grabbed the blanket from Leif’s side, draping it over both our laps as a symbol of peace. Leif seemed taken aback but relieved at the notion of not having to sleep on the floor.

The mattress was thin, our arms and legs pressed against one another tightly as the width of our bodies overcrowded the tiny bed. I could hear Leif breathing, as he could probably hear mine. Just as short and nervous as each other.

‘There is no need for any more nightmares Y/N…nobody is here but us’ he solemnly whispered. I could feel the tears prickling in my eyes. The sincerity in his voice had a gentle shake to it as if he was nervous but his desire to say it was more important than the thought of making a fool of himself. It was as if another entity had taken over my body, without thought, fear, or contemplation I felt my hand reaching down beneath the blanket, scuttling underneath the surface blindly until my fingers finally found what they were looking for.

As cautiously as my shaking fingers were, our fingers entwined loosely, as if neither of us was certain that this was okay or not. But even in their loose entwined grip, neither of our hands moved until sleep took over.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

#vikings x reader #vikings valhalla #vikings imagine #vikings #leif x reader #leif eriksson

55 notes · View notes

bumblesimagines · 9 days ago

Text

Under The Moonlight

Part 20/End

Summary: Reunited with family members, (Y/N) makes a choice in regards to his future and happiness.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Valhalla warnings, homophobia, no hate quite like christian love, harald being harald at this point bro

~~~

Novgorod remained unchanged, for the most part. The towering gray walls still encircled the glorious, rich city, but without winter, the chill wasn't as notable as the last time they'd been there. Light snow blanketed the ground, mushy and soft but not as thick. Merchants and sellers still shouted their services and prices into the windy air, and the building where opium could be taken remained, with buyers stumbling in and out. There were no ships on sleds tied to horses; there was no need for them with the river melted and flowing through the forest.

(Y/N) felt more at peace than he had in Constaniople. He was around his people, around Vikings who shared his culture and traditions. He'd nearly forgotten what it was like to wear heavy furcoats or braid parts of his hair or proudly wear his necklace without receiving wide-eyed stares from people so heavily sheltered from violence. He could communicate in an unspoken language and be completely understood by the vendors or others passing by. It made the longing for home even greater.

Slipping the coat from his shoulders and setting it aside, he walked toward the window and peered into the city. The tent for fighting and bets was still up and operating, and his heart involuntarily clenched at the thought of Batu and Kaysan. They'd been two young men searching for a way to make a living, sticking together to survive without anyone else to rely on but each other. He couldn't help but wonder if they would've perhaps been happier had they been left alone... if they would've been alive and breathing.

When he closed his eyes, he could still hear Kaysan's rumbling laugh, the sort of laugh that could make anyone smile along until their cheeks hurt. He could still see Batu and peer into his dark eyes full of kindness, still see his beaming smile and the affection that melted into it whenever he was around friends. He could still feel Dorn's gentle touch, the weight of her hand on his shoulder, or the playful way she'd bump her shoulder into his.

"Greenlander," A cheery voice greeted him from behind, and he turned to face them. Yaroslav smiled welcomingly at him. "Ah, it is good seeing you again, Greenlander! I hear your brother left to journey on his own. It is a shame I could not say goodbye to him."

Yaroslav, unsurprisingly, looked the same, if not with a pudiger belly full of wine and ale. He approached him, his hands raising to slap affectionately over (Y/N)'s shoulders. "Harald is gathering an army as we speak. I recall he told me, many years ago, that you did not wish to... join him when he became King of Norway."

(Y/N) bit his tongue. "Mm, it.. it is his destiny. He believes it to be, at least."

"Mhm," Yaroslav slowly nodded, his green eyes squinting slightly at him. "I am no fool, (Y/N). I am aware there are.. things going on between you and my nephew. It is none of my business what either of you choose to indulge in, but I would be lying if I said I have not grown fond of you and your brother over the years."

"We've always been grateful for it."

"Yes, though, I cannot help but wonder... what it is that you want?" Yaroslav's hands dropped, his feet guiding him toward one of the tables with a pitcher of wine and a goblet waiting to be filled. He wrapped a ringed hand around the goblet and poured the dark wine into it before raising it to take a drink. "You must desire something. Men, women, gold, lands, power, marriage, children."

He thought of Greenland immediately. He thought of the long expanse of treeless fields that reached out in every direction. He thought of the small harbor his father ruled over and the cliffs that resided on either side. He thought of the rocky beach he'd sit at as a boy and watch the horizon for signs of the fishing boats. He'd desired a chance to return home since the moment he set foot on Kattegat all those years ago, a chance to see his mother again, to see how the families of his fallen friends were doing.

"Harald may not realize it yet, but he and I desire the same thing."

Yaroslav's bushy brows rose in surprise and curiosity. "Oh?"

"He wishes to return home, as do I. He simply longs for a chance to rule over his home, whereas I am content simply being home. It is a pity, I suppose, that we are not from the same places. I belong in Greenland with my family. He belongs in Norway." (Y/N) approached the table, his head tilting toward the crackling fireplace nearby. He watched the flames lick up the stone walls circling it, keeping it from spreading to the rest of the room.

"Do you believe in destiny, Greenlander?"

"Yes.. and I believe Harald and I were destined to meet, to cross paths and then diverge. I think he has.. finally come to accept this. I hope he has, at least." (Y/N) took the second goblet in his hand and tilted it toward Yaroslav so he'd pour wine into it. He brought the goblet to his lips and sipped on the sweet wine, an easily addictive thing. "Harald will make for a... fair king."

"But not a good one?"

(Y/N) let out a soft huff of amusement. "Kings are never good, Yaroslav. They can only be fair."

Yaroslav hummed quietly but made no move to protest or deny his words. Instead, he drank from his goblet until it was empty and set his cup down to be fetched later by a servant. He licked his lips and placed his hand over (Y/N)'s shoulder again, his fingers lightly squeezing it before he turned and began making his way toward the door. (Y/N) turned away from the fire.

"Yaroslav," He called out to him, waiting for him to crane his head over his shoulder. "Would it be too much to ask for Harald to sleep in a separate room?"

A sympathetic smile passed over his lips. "That can be arranged. Good luck on your travels."

➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸

With the riches Harald obtained through his seven years of serving in Constantinople, he managed to gather an army of Vikings that would have put Jarl Kåre and Jarl Olaf's combined armies to shame. There were warriors from all around, some who knew of Harald and others who simply cared for the gold and food he provided them with. Many were Christian, like him, followers of the new faith who prayed before they ate and wore crosses around their necks. (Y/N) preferred the few who followed the old gods. Their stares weren't as heavy.

They travelled from Novgorod to Norway for many days, occasionally enticing more men and women to join them in the opportunity of following a future king. (Y/N) felt relief when they began camping and sleeping in nature more frequently. He'd always preferred towering trees over the stone walls of Constantinople, the sounds of birds and bugs over loud, busy chatter.

He'd never been meant for Constaniople, it would have driven him insane eventually. He was meant for hunting with bows and spears, for tracking prints in the dirt or snow, for carving his own meat and watching it cook over a fire.

Life at court, too, would drive him insane.

That sentiment became clearer the deeper into Norway they went. He knew it weighed heavily on Harald's shoulders, but he'd changed since the fight with Maniakes. He'd become... colder, more withdrawn, less of the man he fell for during the war and more of a stranger. Despite that, he could feel the familiar stare burn into his temple as he carefully sharpened his dagger. He contemplated stepping outside, but before he could decide, there was a familiar voice shouting and a loud commotion.

(Y/N) whipped his head around in time to catch Harald throwing Leif over his shoulder to dodge an attack. He hurried onto his feet, tucking his dagger away and swiftly crossing the distance to grab a handful of Leif's cloak. "What are you doing, Leif?!"

"(Y/N)?" Leif exhaled, blinking wildly at his younger brother. He raised a cautious hand to (Y/N)'s face, his fingertips brushing over his cheek as if to check if he were really real before he wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. (Y/N) chuckled breathily, a warm relief spreading through his body as he tucked his face in his brother's neck. "Harald..." Leif sighed when he pulled away, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "I mistook you for another. My apologies."

"I'm glad to see you are still the same," Harald responded, a faint attempt at humor, but his tone remained heavy and stoic. "Come, have a seat. We must catch up."

Albeit reluctantly, (Y/N) took a seat across from Harald and settled down beside his brother, unable to tear his eyes away from Leif for long in fear it was all an illusion. His heartstrings tugged with homesickness, but he felt lighter than he had in days. He could breathe easier with Leif at his side, alive and well. Leif set his axes aside, his hands lingering over them.

"(Y/N)..." He began softly, his voice barely audible over the chatter. Leif raised his head to look at him, his collasoused hand resting on the side of (Y/N)'s neck and gently massaging the muscle there. "I... Freydis is... Freydis was murdered in Jomsburg by Magnus Olafsson. It was revenge for killing Jarl Olaf. She-" Leif's voice trembled slightly, his grip tightening as he tried collecting himself long enough to get more words out.

(Y/N) stared at him blankly, the words ringing in his ears. "What? No, no, that- that- Leif, she-" He swallowed harshly and shook his head, his heartbeat quickening until it was beating in his ears. "Freydis, she- how could-"

"I promise-" Leif grabbed him by his shoulders, his brows lifting. "-I will kill him for what he has done."

(Y/N) could feel tears well in the corners of his eyes, tears he rapidly blinked away. She wouldn't want him weeping over her death, no, she'd want him seeking vengeance for her, her people, and-

"Have you ever been in love, Freydis?" (Y/N) asked, placing his hand over hers and wrapping his fingers around her wrist. Freydis hummed and looked up at the clear sky, taking his words into consideration. She thought about it carefully before pursing her lips.

"There was a man back in Kattegat. His name was Koll Hjortsson. He was a believer in the Old Gods, just like us. I believe I was falling in love with him. He was very kind and intelligent. But he is in Valhalla now. And I may be carrying his child." Her words made (Y/N) freeze, head snapping in her direction and eyes widening. Freydis bit down on her bottom lip, nibbling at the skin and staring at the ground, foot lightly digging into the dirt. He immediately looked her over. Her slim figure hadn't changed, and he couldn't spot anything new about her.

"How do you know?"

"I've been feeling ill lately. At first, I thought it might've been a normal illness. But I remembered what the women say about pregnancy, and it makes sense. I believe the Gods have given us gifts for our bravery and faith. Harald has been getting better, and I have been blessed with a child. Perhaps... we were meant to be here, living in that cabin. When Harald grows healthy again, we can make it a proper home, and in due time, we'll be dealing with a babe." Freydis smiled widely, affectionately rubbing her belly. (Y/N) stared at her as the information settled in. His sister was with child, their brother was missing, Harald was still sick, and the chances of going home grew slimmer with each passing day.

"Gods, Freydis..." (Y/N) breathed and stepped around, arms wrapping around her waist. She laughed softly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head against his and closing her eyes. (Y/N) squeezed her lightly and leaned back with a smile. "Come on, then. We've got to make sure your child comes strong and healthy."

"What of her child? Our nephew?" (Y/N) asked breathlessly, but Leif's lips only drew into a pained line, and he shook his head slowly. He took in a shaking breath and propped his arm on the table, resting his forehead over his palm. His nephew, a child of only seven... "The Gods wouldn't be so cruel."

"How did you find out?" Harald questioned, his voice softer than before, but his brows remained fixated in a deep furrow. His eyes flickered to (Y/N), lingering on his features as sympathy sparked in his gaze.

"A bishop traveling with Magnus told me that he poisoned Jomsborg. Some of her people escaped, and she was not among them. I found a shrine they built for her. Nothing else."

"It was her destiny to go there," Harald muttered, taking a sip of his ale and swiping his tongue over his lips. "I hope she found what she was searching for."

(Y/N) couldn't help the quiet scoff that left him, but his eyes fluttered shut instead of meeting Harald's pointed stare. There was a call for Harald, a faintly familiar voice, but (Y/N) couldn't put a name to it until Harald stood to greet the Viking. "Jarl Nori!" He shook his arm, their chain link armor clinging together. (Y/N) opened his eyes and glanced up at the man.

Ah, he remembered him now. He looked fairly the same, apart from his beard, which had grown to reach the top of his chest. Jarl Nori had been the Christian who'd refused to fight alongside 'Pagans' and clashed with Jarl Gorm in what would've been a brutal fight had Harald not intervened that night. He hadn't seen much of the man since the day they claimed victory against England and named King Canute as king of both Denmark and England. The man beside him was a stranger by the name of Vestian, young and likely a family member of Jarl Nori.

Jarl Nori greeted them with a small smile, his hands coming to pat them both on the back. "Greenlanders, good to see you again." He nodded to them before sitting down at the table with Vestian and grinning widely at Harald. "I knew you would return."

"I brought forces to back me and riches for my allies." Jarl Nori quirked a brow, nodding for him to continue. Harald leaned forward, his fingers interlacing. "I am ready to be king."

"May not be as simple as you have planned," Vestian revealed grimly, sparing a glance in Jarl Nor's direction. "Magnus has agreements with many of the Jarls to back him on Svein's death."

"He has the power of the Church. The Pope has threatened excommunication for anyone who goes against him." Jarl Nori grimanced, steadily watching Harald, studying his reaction intently. "Including you."

Harald's jaw visibly clenched, his chest rising with a sharp inhale. "And where do you stand?"

"Olaf was like a brother to me. But his son is a Viking in name only." A slow smile spread on Jarl Nori's face. "Our allegiance is with you."

"And where is Magnus?" (Y/N) asked, his finger running along the thread of his necklace. Magnus. A man who seemed to be just like his filth of a father despite his young age. He hoped Freydis had made Olaf's death as long and painful as it had always meant to be.

"He has summoned Jarls to Kattegat."

Harald hummed and raised his cup, that familiar grin spreading across his lips. "Then that is where we're going."

With a destination finally set, the army packed up the camp they'd made and began preparing for the trek to Kattegat. (Y/N) climbed up onto his horse and carefully pressed down on its sides with his legs to get it moving toward the trail. There was an odd emptiness inside his chest as if the news of Freydis's death hadn't fully set in.

It was hard to believe, especially after everything they'd gone through, that poison would be the thing that killed his sister. He expected her to die in battle by the blade or arrow of another warrior, not by poison sent by a coward.

"(Y/N)." Leif trotted up to him on his horse, his frown heavy with grief. "I'm sorry you found out like this... at a time like this, too. I notice you and Harald have not spoken to each other once since I arrived. What has he done this time?"

(Y/N) chuckled humorlessly, his fingers tightening around the reins of his horse. "I made a choice. He is not the man I chose to follow all those years ago, not anymore. Maniakes... broke him. Hardened him. Kaysan, Batu, and Dorn... they were killed for their unwavering loyalty to him. It is why they are not here with us."

Leif's eyes squeezed shut, a shuttering breath leaving him. "I- I see. I'm sorry I was not there."

"I know," (Y/N) murmured. "Which reminds me, you wished to go to Corfu, yet you are here. Why is that?"

"There was a man there, a mapmaker. He created part of the map I found in the Book of the Unknown." Leif trotted closer, his hand releasing the reins to reach over. His fingers squeezed (Y/N)'s shoulder, the grimness in his features dulling when he smiled. He looked... almost excited. "I spoke to him, dined with his family. He has a map containing every land he has heard of from visitors and travelers. We put the last piece on the map, and I saw it, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) thumbed at his reins. "The Golden Land?"

"The Golden Land," Leif confirmed, his voice tittering with emotion. "If we sail from Greenland, just as Father and I had on that fishing trip, we will surely find it. Who knows what we may yet discover there."

"We?" (Y/N) repeated softly, the corners of his mouth rising into a suppressed smile. "We will find it?"

Leif's smile widened, his eyes crinkling with affection. "We will find it. For Freydis, for our people, for those who did not believe in it. We will find it."

➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸

Kattegat felt colder when they arrived, almost duller. Jarl Haakon had run a tight ship during her rule of Kattegat, but the people had seemed happy, then. Safe and free to worship whoever they pleased. Christianity seemed to be the religion now, and even then, the people looked mournful, as if they were grieving. (Y/N) could only assume that meant their would-be rulers, the young Svein and his mother, Queen Ælfgifu, were dead.. more innocents slaughtered by Magnus.

Nobody dared stop them as they climbed off their horses and marched straight for the Great Hall; even the men who glowered and stared harshly remained in their stops at the sight of the army that loyally followed Harald. The Great Hall was full, many Jarls standing toward the front before a man who appeared much younger than them. He hardly looked like Olaf, but (Y/N) knew it was Magnus. They were both men filled with hate, a hate that was easily spotted just by looking at them.

As Jarl Nori claimed, Magnus Olafsson looked less like a Viking and more like the people of Constaniople. He wore the clothes of Vikings, spoke like and to Vikings, but he did not look Viking. His skin was smooth, free from the lines of work and scars of battle. His hair was long and dirty blonde but was not woven back. He carried himself with the air of someone who'd never truly been to battle nor been beaten down before.

"King Svein is dead." He announced to the Jarls, not a lick of grief or sympathy in his voice for the man he spoke of. "King Forkbeard swore an oath that on his death, I would be named King of Norway. And now, all that remains is a vote by you."

Harald strode further into the Great Hall, his lips curling up into a smirk. "An excellent idea, nepehw." His voice naturally carried through the room, confident and even slightly amused. Heads whipped around to look at him, smiles appearing on faces and voices excitedly calling out to him. "But first, I must remind the Jarls of a promise they made long before yours, to crown me as King upon your father's death."

(Y/N) slipped away from the crowd to stand along the wall with his brother, his eyes drifting over the crowd of Jarls. They exchanged glances and low murmurs as they parted to allow Harald to step through and stand before his nephew. Magnus had been a boy, just a child, when there'd been rumors of Forkbeard's rule over Kattegat eight, nearly nine years before they travelled to Novgorod. They were strangers now and no longer simply uncle-nephew.

"We did not know you had returned, Prince Harald." One of the older Jarls spoke.

Harald turned toward him, his face devoid of most emotion and eyes slightly narrowed. "You do now."

"Prince Harald speaks the truth." Jarl Nori piped up. "He is the rightful King of Norway."

Magnus remained silent for a long moment, the hands he had clasped over his stomach clenching around each other until he raised his head. "Unfortunately, the Pope will not accept a king with Pagan sympathies." He stated, eyeing Harald when he sat back on one of the thrones. His lips twitched into a brief smirk before he turned his body and motioned for someone.

(Y/N) couldn't see through the crowd, not at first, but his heart began hammering at the exclamations tossed into the air. There was a mention of a woman, then a cry about a witch, and before he knew it, his sister appeared through the crowd, being led by two men. Freydis was alive. His breath caught in his throat, a strangled noise almost leaving him. She was alive and healthy, not the sight of a woman who'd been close to death. Freydis pressed her feet firmly on the ground, her lips drawn in a line at the sight of Harald, but when she turned to look toward them, she let a smile slip.

"Not only her," Magnus abruptly added, his hand turning and finger extending toward (Y/N). "Him as well."

"(Y/N)-"

One man clapped his hand tightly over Leif's shoulder to keep him in place while another twisted his hand around (Y/N)'s bicep and forced him forward until he stood beside his sister. Freydis's chest quickened its breathing, her eyes widening and snapping back toward Harald. Harald went rigid in the throne, his fingers curling until they were fists, but he steeled himself enough to only appear faintly surprised.

Magnus grinned, his eyes darting between the three with twisted eagerness before they settled on the siblings. "Well, are you a Christian?" He asked, his hand grasping the sword offered to him, the sword Freydis held near and dear to her heart.

"You know the answer to that." Freydis scowled at him.

"I'll take that as a 'no' from both of you." Laughter spread around the Jarls. Magnus ran his finger along the blade. "And, Freydis, are you the one the heathens call the Last Daughter of Uppsala? The Keeper of the Faith, the leader of the Pagans."

Freydis glanced at (Y/N), then at Leif. Her jaw clenched, and her nostrils flared slightly before she squared her shoulders and looked back at Magnus. "I am." She affirmed confidently.

"Hm." Magnus's eyes trailed away from her to settle on (Y/N). "You are the one they call (Y/N), no? The second son of Erik the Red? Are you aware there are.. rumors that the relations between you and Harald go deeper than brotherhood? That you are his secret lover?" (Y/N)'s lips pressed together, his teeth digging into his bottom lip anxiously. Magnus arched a brow. "I am aware that you are a Pagan, but I assume you know that laying with another man is a sin before the eyes of God?"

(Y/N) took a desperate glance in Leif's direction, suddenly feeling like a boy again in need of saving from their father's rage. Leif stared back at him helplessly, his shoulders rising and falling with each quick breath he took. (Y/N) looked toward Harald instead, pleadingly looking into eyes he knew so well. Harald's adam's apple bobbed with a harsh swallow, and he tilted his head up. (Y/N) felt a simmer of relief. Maybe he was still the man (Y/N) believed him to be. Maybe he'd misjudged him too qui-

"Lies," Harald stated clearly, his voice tight. (Y/N) would've staggered if it not had been for the tight hold of the man grasping his arm. "These rumors are false. (Y/N) and I have been to war together, travelled through many lands together, but to claim we are lovers is laughable. We are nothing to each other."

(Y/N) felt Magnus's stare burn into his temple, searching, waiting for him to crack. He dropped his eyes onto the floorboards beneath his feet, trailing the cracks as he took slow breaths to steady himself. His eyes stung, his heart felt as if someone had taken hold of it and squeezed as tightly as possible, and his head was beginning to ache. He was certain he was trembling. He took a deep breath and held it in his lungs.

He was no mere fool. He was (Y/N) Eriksson. He was a devoted follower of the All-Father and All-Mother, who provided him strength in every battle he went into. He'd rather be slain than allow any of them to see him falter.

"I do lay with men." (Y/N) nodded, murmurs immediately spreading through the crowd. He held Harald's eye, taking some pleasure in the way he stiffened. "But I would never lay with a Christian."

Magnus's jaw clenched. He turned toward the Jarls. "Harald is a Pagan sympathizer, nonetheless. If you vote for Harald Sigurdsson, you are inviting the anger of the Holy Father, and he will punish you for this decision."

His words roused the crowd, some calling out for Magnus to be crowned whilst others for Harald. Jarl Nori's voice was clearer amongst the rest, questioning those around them who they were voting for and prodding them for answers when they took too long. All (Y/N) could focus on was Harald. The curious, easy-going young man he'd fallen for over time was gone, buried in Constaniople. The Harald before him was a cold, greedy man who was nothing more than a stranger.

He expected an overwhelming sadness to consume him, but he felt.. numb. Harald stared back at him, his furrowed brow look softening in the slightest. (Y/N) couldn't bring himself to do anything other than blankly stare back at him. Eight, nearly nine years spent on a man who could not even be bothered taking a risk for him. It only infuriated him.

"So," With Jarl Nori's voice, the overlapping voices quieted. "We have reached a decision. It is decided that you, Harald Siggurdsson, are entitled to the Throne of Norway."

"But that you, Magnus Olafsson, also have a claim." Another Jarl, one much older than the rest, added. "It is our decision, therefore, that you will rule together.

His whole life spent pining over the throne, nearly begging for it and tossing everything else aside... only to be forced to share the crown with another. (Y/N) nearly laughed.

"What say you both?" Jarl Nori asked, glancing between them.

"I understand." Harald cleared his throat, despite his knuckles being a pronounced white. "And I accept your decision.

"I, too, accept your decision," Magnus announced, his fingers tapping lightly along the sword. "But on one condition: that tomorrow, when my father's shrine is to be consecrated, Harald promises to all that Norway will never go back to its old ways and agrees to burn the Pagan witch-" He raised the sword, pointing it at Freydis before he pointed it at (Y/N) next. "-and her Pagan brother to prove his loyalties are not with them and their gods."

(Y/N)'s eyes snapped toward Magnus, widening the slightest. The murmuring of the crowd grew distant, muted to his ears, the hairs on his body standing erect with alert and the thrumming of dread. It clawed at his throat, making it hard to breathe.

His hands clenched tightly to ease the trembling that'd begun, blunt fingernails digging into his palms to distract himself from the storm that broke in his chest. He grinded his teeth together and desperately tried suppressing the trembles attempting to traverse through his body.

"Harald Sigurdsson, what say you?"

Harald's fists rubbed into the armrests of the throne as he shifted uncomfortably in the seat, his eyes bouncing around the room, unable to settle on just one person. He turned his head toward Magnus, meeting his cynical expression before turning back to the siblings. "I say..." He began, strained. His lips drew into a line. "Burn them."

"Hey-" Harald's arm shot forward when (Y/N) made a beeline toward the door, catching him by the forearm and tugging him close. His arms firmly slipped around his waist, and his lips formed a small pout. "Where in God's name are you going in such a hurry?"

"I'm going to find my brother, Harald. I need to help him pack and check on Liv." (Y/N) answered, feeling Harald's muscle flex against his clothed body.

"They can wait, (Y/N)," Harald murmured and pressed his lips against the back of his neck. (Y/N) reached up, pressing the bottom of his palm against Harald's forehead and effectively shoving his head back. Harald huffed childishly, keeping one hand planted firmly on (Y/N)'s hip while the other rubbed his forehead. "Why are you so eager to leave?"

"Why do you want me to stay?"

"Why do you constantly answer a question with another question?" Harald tilted his head, small crinkles forming near his eyes as a wide smile spread across his face. Dropping his hand from his forehead, he turned (Y/N) around and pulled him closer.

"Because it is in my nature." (Y/N) shrugged, hands coming up to rest on Harald's shoulders. He didn't mind being in Harald's arms, he realized. Being held by strong yet gentle arms felt... nice. Comforting even.

"I like that about you."

"You like everything about Greenlanders." (Y/N) felt his lips quirk. "Even their sisters."

"Ah, this is about Freydis, aye?"

"I want to see my brother, Harald." (Y/N)'s eyes briefly shut, forcing the image of Freydis and Harald out of his mind.

"And I want to see you again," Harald admitted softly. (Y/N) felt his body stiffen at Harald's words and he opened his eyes to look into Harald's soft chocolate-colored one. Harald leaned in, kissing him once more before pulling away to speak. "Please, let me see you again." He pleaded gently.

"Why? You can have anyone you want, Harald. You're a prince."

"And I want you."

There was a ringing in his ears as Magnus's men dragged them out of the Great Hall and toward the holding cells, where they were shoved inside the very cell they'd once spent the night in years prior when they first arrived in Kattegat. Sparse hay still covered the ground, and particles of dust were only seen from the light pouring in from the single window. (Y/N) took a few steps into the cell and leaned back against one of the wooden support beams holding up the slanted ceiling, his hands bracing on his knees.

Death wasn't a stranger. He'd lost many friends, grieved many lives, and nearly lost his own numerous times. He couldn't shake the dread from his shoulders, though.

"You look different," Freydis whispered, her fingers brushing over the marks on her wrist from where she'd been shackled. "Older, more mature.." She somberly smiled and ran her palm down to his arm where his tattoo was, her fingertips dancing over it. "I miss when we were children."

(Y/N) pushed himself back and straightened up, gazing over the freckles scattered across her cheeks before he tossed his arms around her. "We thought you were dead." He revealed shakily, inhaling the smell of herbs and rain that clung to her long wavy locks. "I-I thought you were dead. And your boy-"

"His name is Koll." Freydis chuckled breathily, resting her hands against his chest and leaning back. Tears slipped down her cheeks and dripped off her jawline. "He's beautiful. He- He reminds me of you and Leif. He's strong and- and brave and so caring. He's in Greenland.

(Y/N)'s brows furrowed. "Greenland? You went back?"

"Yes, but... You know how Father is. He's... He's desperate. As controlling as always." Freydis brushed her hair back and released the tension in her shoulders through a deep exhale. "He hid Koll away somewhere to force my hand, but my lover is searching for him. He'll be safe with him... I..."

Freydis's lips began quivering, and she leaned in again, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. (Y/N) held her in his arms, her soft sniffles filling the quiet air until someone twisted the lock on the door. It creaked open, and they quickly parted, turning to face the person entering. Leif stepped into the light, pushing back the hood of his cloak.

"Leif.." Freydis whispered in relief.

Leif smiled at her before his eyes moved to (Y/N), and he jerked his head to motion behind him. "Look who found me."

(Y/N) half-expected Harald to step into the light next, but instead, it was a face that nearly made his knees buckle. Her hair had streaks of silver in it, and there were new lines in her face from age, but the confident posture and piercing eyes told him she was still the same woman he'd parted with on that dock in their village all those years ago. (Y/N) staggered forward, and her face crumbled, her arms opening invitingly to him.

"Mother."

Yri let out a half-laugh half-sob when he all but collapsed in her arms. She wrapped them around him tightly and stroked the back of his head as she'd done time and time again when he'd been a boy. She smelled like home, like salt water and smoke. She felt like home, like everything he'd been missing in the past years, like the part of him that he couldn't fill no matter what he tried. The tears fell with ease, seeping from his eyes and tumbling down his cheeks.

"If we want to escape," Leif piped up, pulling away from his own embrace with Freydis. He wiped at his eyes and turned to face them. "You all must listen to me very carefully."

➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸

There was the thunder of drums playing. They filled the air for a moment before ceasing, a distant voice speaking, but his words lost to the wind. He assumed it was whoever was crowning Magnus and Harald as the new Kings of Norway. There was cheering, confirming his assumption, and then the men began pulling him and Freydis forward toward the expecting crowd. Insults were shouted into the air, and they passed the newly crowned kings.

(Y/N) stared forward, avoiding the eyes of the smug Magnus and avoiding looking in Harald's way entirely. His eyes only flickered away from the man leading him to scan the crowd, almost finding himself surprised when he caught the guilty frown on Jarl Nori's face. Years before, the Jarl would have been the one leading the charge against them. It seemed time mellowed out his extremities.

They were led up to a wooden podium in the middle of Kattegat itself, their bodies positioned to face away from each other as they were secured to the wooden pole. There was a man, an archbishop he presumed, who approached them clad in white and gold. He tugged his cloak closer to his body before clasping his hands together and tilting his head up to look at them.

"(Y/N) Eriksson, you have admitted to sodomy and to the sin of laying with other men." The archbishop waited, his shoulder subtly twitching in a barely restrained flinch when (Y/N) glared down at him. He cleared his throat. "Freydis Eriksdotter, you have admitted to the murder of the beatified Olaf Haraldsson."

"I have done nothing but defend the old beliefs." Freydis spat, her head raising to the gathered crowd. "Beliefs you all once held sacred! I demand to fight my accusers and let the gods decide who should live and die."

The archbishop frowned. "Only the one true God can determine guilt or innocence."

"Our fates have been destined and woven by our Viking gods," (Y/N) added, his head craning to peer down at the archbishop before lifting to finally eye the kings watching them from their seats. "They choose who lives or dies. They choose our destinies."

"We are not moved by your pleas to myths and false idols." Magnus dismissed with a soft scoff, his attention dropping to the men at the base of the podium. "Begin this." He ordered.

The wind picked up the slightest and (Y/N) searched the skies for ravens or hawks. Freydis swallowed. "I call the gods to this meeting!" She declared, muttering softly under her breath in their old language. Those in the crowd exchanged nervous glances. "Hear me now. Rise up and protect us from this heresy!"

On cue, one of the outer walls facing the forest erupted in flames that hungrily moved down the rest of the wall. There were shrieks and shouts, the crowd beginning to buzz with fright. Freydis continued, "Strike down your anger and redden these walls with blood!" Another eruption of flames, more frightened shrieks as people began to contemplate fleeing. "This world will fall sooner than our old gods yield!" One of the longhouses caught on fire, the flames spreading rapidly through the roof. "Magnus, the gods have come for you!" One boat erupted in flames.

"Do not fear the witch!" Magnus stood up from his seat, his hands raising to quell the crowd's anxiety. "It is a trick. She commands no power here!"

Some barrels caught fire, and the crowd began moving, rapidly fleeing between the buildings to escape the flames with frightened screams and panicked shouts. Magnus flinched when a roof near them erupted in flames, and he staggered back, his chest moving in deep heaves. He glared down at Harald when the second king spoke before looking back to the podium.

"What are you waiting for?! Light it!"

Before the archbishop could step close to the podium with his torch, one of the many arrows Leif and Yri were shooting pierced the wood around the podium. The stench of sulfur filled his nose, followed by thick, black smoke that clouded his vision. His ears strained through the panic until he heard the clang of metal breaking and his cuffs loosened. Immediately, he leapt off the podium in the direction facing away from Magnus and Harald. Before Freydis could rush toward Magnus, some of Harald's men tossed a bag over her head and carried her off toward safety.

"Leif-"

"It is too dangerous." Leif gave his shoulder a push. "Go!"

(Y/N) cursed under his breath and followed the men, ducking and weaving between buildings until they reached the treeline where they marched through the thick, green brush of the forest up the mountain. Freydis squirmed and shouted, her words muffled by the bag, until she was carefully set down. She huffed, blowing a strand of hair away from her face and sending (Y/N) an irritated glance as her cuffs were properly broken from her wrists.

"I did not know." He told her and raised his arms to get the cuffs off his wrists. "Argue with Leif."

"Oh, I will."

Freydis stormed past him, crushing leaves and twigs beneath her boots on her path toward Leif as he climbed down from his horse. (Y/N) snorted softly and rubbed his sore wrists. His mother approached, her hand coming to rest on his hand and tongue clicking when she noticed the redness along his inner wrists. (Y/N) allowed her to inspect them, knowing she'd force him to regardless, and watched Freydis snap at Leif. The amused grin promptly fell from his lips when Harald appeared on horseback through the trees.

Freydis and Harald quickly fell into an argument, and Leif simply walked past with minor indifference, one hand clutching Freydis's sheathed sword. (Y/N) stepped away from his mother to push through the bushes and foliage toward them, his pace quickening the closer he got. Harald huffed loudly at something Freydis said and turned away from her, his eyes spotting (Y/N) at the last minute before (Y/N)'s knuckles connected with his jawline. Freydis clamped her mouth shut mid-sentence, brows lifting in surprise before smug satisfaction settled on her face.

Harald stumbled back, his foot catching on a small log sticking out that made him fall on one knee. He brushed his fingers over his reddening skin, his lips parting to let out another huff, this time more irritated than the last. "Is this what I get for saving you?" (Y/N) pulled his foot back and swung it forward, hitting squarely where he knew the cut from Maniakes was still healing. Harald cried out, the force forcing him to fall off his knee.

He raised a hand to stop the few soldiers around, quick pants leaving him as he clutched at his side with a wince. "I made an oath." He spoke through gritted teeth. "It was not to lose something important to me."

(Y/N) blinked at him, effectively clearing his blurring vision. Freydis's hand brushed over his back as she turned and walked away to give them some space. His mouth parted slightly before closing again, the tip of his tongue swiping over his lips before (Y/N) giggled. He giggled again and again, and then he lurged into full-blown laughter that left him clutching his stomach and doubling over. "Important?" He repeated breathlessly, his fingertips collecting the tears in the corners of his eyes. "Important?"

"Yes." Harald hissed, grunting when he got back up onto his feet.

(Y/N) took in a deep breath, the shock wearing from his bones and allowing the fury to settle in. "I put up with you for nearly nine years, I take care of every injury, I deal with everything you send my way, I follow you without a single complaint- and I'm not important? I risked my life for you over and over again, Harald! Nine years together, seven with you begging for another chance, and the one time you have a chance to uphold the promise you made me, you agree to kill me?!"

"(Y/N)-"

"No, Harald!" (Y/N) snapped, his voice echoing in the forest and sending a flurry of birds darting into the air. Harald reeled back, his eyes widening briefly. The buzz of anger began fading, exhaustion quickly following to replace it. His head shook, boots digging into the dirt as he stepped backward. "I don't wish to hear it. You will hold your tongue. I hope whatever it is... it eats you alive... because you know that if I had been in your place, I would have done things differently."

(Y/N) swiftly turned and stomped through the green bushes toward the distant sound of shouting. He could hear the rustle of Harald following, but he paid it little mind, more focused on following the footprints in the dirt until he stepped out of the treeline and onto one of the cliffs overlooking the harbor.

He stopped, feeling the rocks and gravel beneath his boots and the refreshing, chilly air whipping past him. His eyes tracked Harald, watching him briefly stop to speak with Freydis and then with Leif. The two of them, along with Yri, continued further down the mountain toward the boat Leif had received from King Canute.

Swallowing, (Y/N) moved, his footsteps slow until he stopped by Harald's side. He stared out at the dark ocean, watching the faraway waves roll and the seabirds dive for fish. He was free, but the feeling wasn't as relieving as he'd hoped for. A hand tentatively touched his hip, lingering to see if he'd swat it away before it tugged him closer. Harald pressed a kiss into his temple, his head tilted to rest his head against his.

"I know I have not always been easy," Harald began softly. "But you must know that I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I knew you'd be someone special, and I do not regret a single moment we've had these past years. I love you, and I will until the day I die. You will be on my mind every night when I fall asleep and every morning when I wake."

(Y/N) exhaled shakily and leaned his head against Harald's for a moment. "You are.. the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me, Harald Sigurdsson." He muttered heavily and lifted his head, raising his hand to touch Harald's cheek one last time. "I hope the crown was worth it... because I am never returning. I love you too... but I don't ever want to see you again."

With a small sigh, he leaned forward, pressing his lips over Harald's. He pulled away, his trembling lips pulling into a small smile at the tears that slipped from Harald's eyes. He stroked his cheek, running his thumb over his cheekbone and the small scar there before he dropped his hand and turned to follow his family down the mountain. He wiped his eyes and let his shoulders sag, a more blissful smile spreading on his face at the sight of everyone waiting.

Leif grinned. "Ready for our next adventure?"

"Definitely."

35 notes · View notes

hederasgarden · 10 months ago

Text

Other Characters/Fandoms Masterlist

House of the Dragon

Series

Sins of the Father (Aemond Targaryen x Lady!Reader | Mature | Ongoing Series)

When the Greens win the Dance of the Dragons, your father must answer for his support of Rhaenyra.

Oneshots

Bloodlust (Aemond Targaryen x Lady!Reader | Explicit | 1.8K)

After battle, Aemond visits your tent.

The Batman

Everyone’s a Secret (Bruce Wayne x F!Reader | Ongoing | Explicit)

It’s bad enough when your one night stand is later revealed to be the reclusive Bruce Wayne but your life gets infinitely more complicated when photos of that night make the front page news.

Mistakes Were Made (Bruce Wayne x F!Reader | Ongoing | Gen)

When you take the job as Bruce Wayne’s publicist, you’re prepared for some surprises but finding out he’s Batman isn’t one of them. The good news is you’re not fired. The bad news? Batman definitely needs some PR help.

Halo

Oneshots

Everything They Made Me (John 117 x Makee l Explicit l 1.7K)

How weak must she be that a simple kindness undoes her so? (A missing scene from episode 8.)

Moon Knight

Oneshots

Nothing Lasts But Light (Layla El-Faouly x Reader x Marc Spector l Explicit l 3.4K)

You love Layla enough to accept anything, even Marc.

Top Gun

Oneshots

A Lesson in Patience (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader | Explicit l 1.4K)

Your boyfriend wants to try something new.

Drabbles

Take a Seat (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader | Explicit | 845)

Rooster invites you to take a seat on his face.

His Goofy Girl (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader | Gen | 630)

You have an entertaining reaction to the anesthesia used for your wisdom tooth extraction, much to Rooster ‘s amusement and embarrassment.

Vikings Valhalla

Oneshots

New Beginnings (Harald Sigurdsson x F!Reader l Mature l Series on hiatus)

You are chosen to wed King Harald in order to cement the alliance between King Canute’s growing kingdom and Norway.

A Quiet Interlude (King Canute x F!Reader l Explicit l 1.2K)

After the death of Queen Ælfgifu, you become King Canute’s new wife.

Drabbles

Heartbeat (Leif Eriksson x F!Reader l Explicit l 874)

When your home is attacked, you see a different side of Leif.

Persistence (Leif Eriksson x F!Reader l Teen l 658)

Many men have come for your hand but Leif is the first you let into your heart.

The Rescue (Leif Eriksson x F!Reader l Gen l 431)

You hate frat parties but Harald’s new friend might just change your mind. (Modern AU)

Wicked Games (Godwin x OC l Explicit l 662)

The new Elderman of Wessex has met his match with Lady Aida.

♡Main Masterlist♡

115 notes · View notes

aikaterini-drag · 2 years ago

Text

Eternal bros 🩵 Harald and Leif, the dynamic duo that makes Vikings: Valhalla an epic saga of friendship and showcases the bonds that can be forged even amidst the chaos of war.

257 notes · View notes

miss-madness67 · 1 year ago

Text

Goodbye (Vikings Valhalla) Leif

He is about to leave Greenland without you.

“Do not leave,” I murmur against Leif’s lips. He sighs, but instead of answering me, he kisses me again with all the sweetness he can muster. Our mouths dance an unsteady rhythm, tongues clashing. Leif tastes like Spring and the sun coming out after months. “Leif, please,” I beg once again once he parts from me. Yet, I know it is all in vain. There is nothing I can do to convince him to stay in Greenland. Just like there is nothing he can say to make me go to Kattegat with him. It looks like this is where it ends after all that we have been through.

“I love you,” his sweet whisper takes my breath away. I love him too, but saying it out loud will only make all the more real the fact that we have to be apart. Instead, I return my lips to his. I truly admire the fact that he is determined to avenge his sister. However, that is not the life I wish for me. Leif, the love of my life, is to leave tomorrow with my heart beside his. The only thing I can do is wrap my arms around him and remember this moment for the rest of my existence.

#leif eriksson #angst #vikings valhalla fanfiction #vikings valhalla #leif x you #leif #leif eriksson x reader #vikings x reader #vikings valhalla fic #leif eriksson x you

89 notes · View notes

maomao92 · 2 months ago

Text

Honestly need a twilight of the gods fanfiction rn or else I'm starting a revolution and everyone is dying including me because I have an odd obsession with sigrid and Leif 😞

#twilight of the gods #twilight of the gods x reader #leif #totg #sigrid

4 notes · View notes

darkadaline · 7 months ago

Text

Masterlist III

SWAT

Masterlist SWAT

Caring - Chris Alonso

His Girls - Jim Street

Stitches - Chris Alonso

Nsfw Alphabet - Chris Alonso

Alone - Chris Alonso

Chris being affectionate - Chris Alonso

Chris and lap - Chris Alonso

Game to loose - Chris Alonso

Sexy time - Chris Alonso

Join me - Chris Alonso

Dating Chris Alonso - Chris Alonso

Late night cuddles - Chris Alonso

Protective - Chris Alonso

First meeting - Chris Alonso

You weren't supposed to know that - Chris Alonso

Unknown - Hondo

Swat Masterlist 1

Poly!20 Swat Masterlist

Poly Swat Masterlist

Sex Club - Chris, Hondo, Street

Don't be afraid - Chris Alonso

Safe - Chris Alonso

Love me - Chris, Street, Reader

Punishment - Poly

Cold - Jim Street

Secrets - Jim Street

Orgy - Poly

Sleepover - Poly

Never again - Jim Street

You're everything you need - Jim Street

Period sex - Jim Street

I can help with that - Jim Street

Introduction - Deacon

Jim Street Masterlist

Swat Masterlist 3

Swat Masterlist 4

Jim Street Masterlist 2

Hurt - Chris Alonso

Chris Alonso Masterlist

Hondo Harrelson Masterlist

Jim Street Masterlist 4

Can't help falling in love - Chris Alonso

Meeting the parents - Chris Alonso

Nothing to loose - Stris

In moments like these - Jim Street

Random facts - 20Squad

Period pain - Hondo

Baby, it's cold outside - Jim Street

Didn't you already ask me that - Jim Street

Estrange - Jim Street

Dog - Jim Street

Worth the wait - Jim Street

Opposites - Jim Street

Aftercare - Jim Street

Light out - Chris Alonso

Migraine - Chris Alonso

Frienship Headcannons - Chris Alonso

VIKINGGS VALHALLA

Not just friends - Leif Eriksson

Keeping you warm - Leif Eriksson

Vikings Valhalla Masterlist

Heartbeat - Leif Eriksson

New beginnings - Harald Sigurdsson

Bleeding hearts - Harald Sigurdsson

A quiet interlude - King Canute

Frat party - Leif Eriksson

Alliances - Harald Sigurdsson

Slave - Masterlist H.S.

Near death - Harald Sigurdsson

Not so quiet now - Harald Sigurdsson

Arranged - Harald Sigurdsson

Renegades - Leif Eriksson

SAND CASTLE - Cpt. Syverson

Morning cuddles

A little more heart

Yrsa

Feral instinct

A night in red tee

The fallen wolves - Poly

L is for looks

The night of many firsts

First time

Syverson Masterlist

A cold tent but a warm Captain

Things you do that drive him crazy

Holding hands

Chocolate

Needles

I'll protect you

Ramble on - Poly

Not asking for help

Have ypu ever seen the rain

AUGUST WALKER

Gentle monsters

August and the maiden

Like a virgin

#swat cbs #chris alonso x reader #jim street #donovan rocker #swat x reader #vikings valhalla #leif eriksson #harald sigurdsson #august walker #captain syverson x reader

2 notes · View notes

cxce15 · 2 years ago

Text

Is there any Vikings Valhalla fans out there

If there is and you write please I am begging you to write for Leif Erikson

I am in love with this man right here so please give me something to soothe my obession

Please and thank you

Have a good day

#leif erikson #vikings valhalla #netflix #sam corlett #cxce15 #leif erikson x reader

24 notes · View notes

introverted-imagineer · 7 months ago

Text

The Wedding Night (Part 22)

Warnings: Language, religious, and gendered themes (In keeping with historical beliefs and practices from the 10th century in which the show is set). Smutty themes. Please be careful to not engage with the content below if any of these warnings impact your well-being.

We had been married by a priest in a Christian ceremony that night. For an empire that prided itself on being faithful and dutiful to its Christian roots, the priest had no problem accepting a hefty bribe to overlook the fact that our daughter had been born out of wedlock. Similarly, the Emperor had no issue providing that bribe. ‘A wedding gift, from my bride and I’ he called it. Elena and I clearly both furious with this notion, but for totally different reasons. Like London, even in Constantinople, Christianity had a price.

‘We must also baptise this child’ the priest had insisted. My hand gripped tighter onto Harald. I knew Harald was committed to his faith, but as we stood at the altar, I squeezed his hand, silently pleading. But even I knew, deep down, that this was something entirely out of both of our control. ‘There is no need’ Harald announced so casually, a smile on his face as he so nonchalantly addressed the room. ‘We have already baptised our daughter.’ I felt Harald’s hand gently squeeze mine back, a silent understanding, and a plea to go along. The Emperor looked at Harald, his head tilting to the side as he silently inspected us. I forced myself to smile, although tight-lipped, I hoped it had been enough to match Harald’s casual demeanour, as if to say ‘This wasn’t such a big deal.’ Elena’s eyes looked intensely at Harald, a look of contemplation on her face. Whether she reveals to her groom that Harald did not know his daughters’ existence up until that very morning. Technically, whether the Emperor believed it or not, he only knew that Harald had a daughter, and possibly a child elsewhere, but he knew nothing of the history of either child to accuse him of lying. Elena had everything and nothing to gain if she did reveal this information. Everything to gain with her husband-to-be, but nothing to gain with Harald. I could only assume what was more important to her.

‘It is true’ Leif said, stepping forward as he awkwardly, and stiffly carried Twyla in his clutches. ‘I was there.’ The Emperor gazed curiously at Leif, the story unfolding for all of us as we silently tried to convince the Emperor and the priest of our fragile lie. ‘We did it at the river…informal yes, but it was important to us’ Harald continued, filling in gaps that seemed to make the Emperor nod in understanding. He seemed satisfied, my grip loosening slightly in relief as the Emperor and the priest silently conversed with one another, satisfied by the idea of our daughter having had some Christian influence in her short life so far. ‘I suppose we can continue with the ceremony?’ The priest asked, looking to the Emperor for confirmation. ‘I suppose…’ the Emperor began to announce before a voice interjected. ‘Does the child not have elected Godparents?’ Elena announced.

Bitch.

The Emperor and the priest looked at one another. ‘We have already discussed our choices for her Godparents Your Highness’ I interjected, like a protective primal instinct, a natural urge to fight against an enemy. ‘Our choice for godmother is Mathilda’ I announced. I could see Elena’s forehead tense, her cheeks slightly redden in silent fury. If she was going to try and weave her way into my family, she had never seen the consequences of trying to come between a mother and her child. I held her gaze directly, raising my eyebrow with a look that said it all. Checkmate. ‘Leif is already her Godfather, as he was there’ Harald added. I looked at Leif, the way he awkwardly held the baby in his arms, clearly never having held a child before. But he kept his face steady, not wavering. ‘I didn’t think you were a Christian?’ The Emperor asked quizzically. ‘I am open to learning and engaging with many beliefs Your Highness’ Leif announced. I looked at him, even though he was only adding to the lie, his words appeared to be true. The Emperor and the priest silently whispered to one another, being tactful to speak in a tongue that was not familiar to any of us, not even Elena.

‘I suppose we shall continue with the wedding then’ the Priest announced, bringing the lengthy interruption to an end. I gently squeezed Harald’s hand again, this time not in panic, but in a way that silently said what I couldn’t say out loud, knowing that it went against some of his crucial beliefs. The lying, the deceit, the false pledge of faith in the house of God, but the power to let me make a choice of free will for our daughter. Thank you.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

The ceremony was quick, the feast quiet as everyone felt the tenseness at the table. No speeches, no toasts, no nothing. I pushed the food around on my plate with a fork, a single grape making me feel sick. I just wanted the night to be over, to be able to take my daughter and go to sleep. To take this dress off, to throw the ribbon in my hair into the fire. But the Christian dictations of marriage continued to rule the evening.

The Emperor stood, breaking the tension as everyone looked at him as he sat at the end of the table. Leif, Elena, Harald, the Priest, and me. ‘Please, take the child to her godmother’ he asked, gesturing to who I recognised as Inaya. She walked over, without any sense of authorisation or consent, entirely comfortable in her privilege to do so, and whisked the infant from my clutches so quickly, walking out of the room. This only confirmed my fears further…we needed to get out of the palace. ‘As is custom with a marriage, it is time for the bedding ceremony.’

I looked to Harald, my eyes struck with panic, his gaze rather shocked at the brazenness of the Emperor. ‘Emperor, considering the circumstances…is a bedding ceremony entirely necessary?’ Harald asked, being sure to lower his tone to not come across as angered or threatening in any way to the Emperor, but completely submissive. ‘It has been a long day for us all my love, maybe on this occasion we can spare the formalities’ Elena said, slipping her hand into her husband’s as she sat next to him. The Emperor grasped her hand, kissing it gently. ‘I know it has been a long journey for you all, but we must unionise the new bride and groom, so we may observe that their marriage is sanctified. Once we have done this, we may all rest.’

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

The couple were whisked into a room attached to the Church where the Emperor had them married. The Emperor himself didn’t care about the bedding ceremony, in his eyes, the pair had already committed fornication, and they would be punished for their sins because of it. It was not for him, nor the couple, not even the church that he insisted on the formality. The only reason he demanded it take place was for the same reason he had plotted this whole marriage between Harald and Y/N. To show Elena once and for all that she could not have the Viking.

The wedding party awkwardly gathered around the bed in the centre of the small room, the curtains around the canopy drawn to offer some sort of privacy, but their purpose to block anything from view was void of purpose. The material was so thin, that there was no use in them existing at all.

The pair stood awkwardly at each side of the bed. The bride pale, the groom tense. Harald had bore witness to bedding ceremonies before, but he had never thought of how awkward it was for the couple. They were supposed to be happy, eager to join together and become one flesh. He never imagined his own wedding night would be so displeasing. The tenseness of it all making him feel completely impotent. As for the bride, she had only seen one, and she was very aware that even though the marriage was motivated by political tactics, the bedding ceremony between Canute and Emma was extraordinarily passionate. While she had grown to care for the Viking, the thought of making a passionate display of affection to him and for everyone else at that moment was entirely impossible.

‘My darling, I only ask as you are the only other woman in the room, maybe you can assist the bride by undoing the back of her dress?’ the Emperor asked politely. But Elena knew this was not a suggestion, but rather a command. Elena walked over, her hands almost ripping the buttons that held the dress against Y/N’s skin. Y/N not able to keep herself still against the violent thrashing of Elena’s hands at the back of her dress. The dress which so improperly fit her malnourished body fell effortlessly from her frame, leaving her in a thin slip hanging from her shoulders.

Harald and Y/N awkwardly shifted into the bed, being sure to slip under the sheet to allow for more privacy. The priest carefully closed the sheer curtains behind them, but the view behind the curtain was very clear.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

I lay on my back, bringing the sheet right to the underside of my chin, my slip still lying at my knees. Harald awkwardly, so nervous, and unsure sitting with his tunic still covering his top half, but his bottom half protected under the privacy of the sheet. He looked around, so uncertainly, his breathing rapid as he finally looked at me. My eyes locked on the canopy as I lay with my head on the pillow, staring at the wooden engravings. I could feel Harald’s weight shift as he did the same, lying down on the bed and staring at the wooden canopy. I could see the figures on the outside of the curtain looking at one another confusingly. As much as I didn’t want to do this, as much as I wanted to scream, to tell the Emperor himself to fuck off. I gently shifted my hand, brushing against Harald’s forearm, dragging it down gingerly until I slipped my hand into his. Our fingers instinctively locked together.

I could feel the hairs on his arms, stood to attention, his leg not quite settled as it gently shook under the sheet. I shifted onto my side, finally drawing my eyes from the wooden canopy. Harald nervously followed suit. Our hands still intertwined, I gave him a gentle squeeze. Harald squeezed back, but his grip kept tight. ‘Um..should I?’ I whispered, shifting myself to move, but his hand unlaced from mine, sitting himself up slightly. He shifted on top of me, awkwardly holding himself up by his forearms. I nervously ran my hands down my legs, beginning to shift my slip up as Harald reached down. However, instead of taking off his tunic, Harald’s hand gripped my wrist, stopping my hands from moving my slip further up. His hands caressed my thighs, causing the hairs on my legs to stand to attention. I felt hot and cold, sweaty and shivery all at the same time. His hair covered his face as he looked down, awkwardly trying to shift himself into a comfortable position as he tried to hold his weight with one arm, his other hand gently caressing my waist. I lifted my hands, snaking them underneath his armpits, pulling his body on top of mine. Our clothed chests pressed against one another, our hearts beating as quickly and fiercely against each other. I brought my lips close to his ear, his body shivering at the sensation of my hot breath against his skin. ‘Just do it’ I said, closing my eyes and preparing for contact.

He shifted again, slightly, his thumb brushing against my naked waist. He shifted, turning his neck slightly so that his lips pressed against my ear. ‘Grunt’ he whispered. He dipped his head into my neck, his lips pressed against my neck as he breathed loud and slowly. I lay there, my arms resting on his back waiting for that feeling I hadn’t felt in so long. But it never came. He thrust his body forward against mine, my breasts rising and falling against his chest as he moved up and down. I grunted, letting out a small groan with each of his movements.

I could hear the small chatter on the other side of the curtain. Satisfied by what they believed to be unfolding between us, the small group of spectators quietly shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind them. It wasn’t until I felt a wet drop on my neck that I pushed Harald off gently. He turned around, his tears flowing as he sniffled. ‘I’m sorry’ he choked out, his shoulders shaking as his tears flowed. I was shocked at his demeanour. I wanted to ask him why he was sorry. Was it for everything before? The marriage? The awkward bedding ceremony?

‘Stay here’ I commanded, slipping out of the bed and walking out of the room.

The Church was another part of the part of the endless palace. The palace was empty of life, the halls dark, lit only dimly by candlelight. My bare feet padded against the bare concrete, the skin rough. I wandered down the corridor, seeking any sign of life. As I turned the corner, a body collided with mine. ‘Inaya’ I whispered, relieved to find people still awake at this time. ‘I need my daughter.’ She looked at me curiously, her eyebrows knitting together as she began to shake her head. ‘The baby is asleep, I have just put her down’ she impatiently replied. I brought my hand up, grasping her forearm within my clutches. ‘The baby is my baby. So I will ask you one more time kindly. I need my daughter, where is she?’ The world had always dictated every aspect of my life, but it stops now.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

I slowly opened the door to the room, a candle in hand, my daughter in the other. I walked to the bed, placing the candle on one of the tables, giving a small breath of light to the now dark room. I peeled the canopy curtain back quietly. I couldn’t tell if he was asleep, but his quick breathing suggested that he was not. ‘Harald’ I said, the weight of the bed dipping slightly as I crawled back into the bed. His hand came up to his face, rubbing his eyes, but his back still turned. ‘Harald’ I said more sternly, a gentle nudge to his shoulder blade. ‘I think it’s time you properly met your daughter’ I whispered. His quick breathing stopped, his limp body now stiff as he pushed himself from the mattress, cautiously looking over his shoulder, not quite believing his eyes. He shifted himself, sitting upright as he looked over her carefully. I watched him, the way his breathing slowed, the way amazement and fear washed over him simultaneously. Twyla looked at him, her eyes identical to his.

It felt like an eternity, the way they just stared at each other. I decided to break the silence, words that I didn’t think would ever come out of my mouth. ‘Do you want to hold her?’ He looked at me, only his eyes shifting. I gently cradled the little girl, placing her against Harald’s chest. It took a moment for him to move, but he gingerly wrapped his arms around her, cradling the girl to his chest. She lay there, her little cheek smooshed up against him as her eyes darted around the room. I so desperately wanted to know what was going on in her mind. Was she okay? Did she remember me? Does she know where she is? Does she feel as much love as I do her? So much doubt and so much hope rattled around in my brain.

She gently reached up, her small fingers gathering the hairs on Harald’s beard. He quietly laughed at the touch, even when she did pull a bit harshly. I watched her, the innocence, not knowing the politics of the world around her, the worries, the obligations. I wish she could stay like this forever, to simply just enjoy what was around her. Her little eyes began to droop, her breathing slowing into a gentle pace as she rested her head against Harald’s shoulder.

‘This is what it’s all about from now on. Saying you are sorry won’t change the past…but we can shape a future where we don’t have to be sorry.’ I said, gently brushing the wispy baby hair behind her ear. Harald gently placed his hand over mine as it rested on Twyla’s little cheek. ‘I promise, I will be a good father, and I will try to be a good husband’ he said, gently taking his hand from mine.

I didn’t say anything more, instead choosing to gently lay my head on Harald’s shoulder, Twyla’s sleepy head resting against his other. The day finally caught up to us, as we all fell into a blissful sleep.

#vikings #vikings valhalla #harald x reader #vikings x reader #harald sigurdsson #imagines #vikings imagine #x reader #leif eriksson #valhalla

52 notes · View notes

bumblesimagines · 8 months ago

Text

Under The Moonlight

Part 17

Request: Yes or No

Summary: (Y/N) and Harald only continue to make things more complicated for themselves. After returning to Constantinople, (Y/N) is forced to say goodbye to his brother for the first time.

CW/TW: Mention of the deaths of innocents, situationships situationshipping, suggestive content, normal relationship? don't know her, implied homophobia, religion bashing + the violent love of Christianity, healthy sibling relationships rise up

~~~

Silence hung over them like a heavy cloud, the words they wished to speak dying in their throats in favor of staying quiet and letting the moment pass. Tiring and infuriating, it was, but winning a death match against an experienced ruler was quite the feat. (Y/N)'s brief flash of anger had disappeared the moment the fight began, leaving him simply with familiar numbness and exhaustion, his attention focused on cleaning the cut Harald had sustained on his arm instead of picking up their argument again.

Harald winced and withheld the urge to flinch each time the needle entered his skin, his gaze flickering between watching the cut be sown and studying (Y/N)'s face. Years of patching up injuries had turned him into a swift healer, his hands nimble and gentle as they finished sewing his cut. His bloodied fingers picked up the rag floating in the basin beside them and carefully dabbed it along his skin, cleaning any blood that'd seeped out before taking the bandages offered to him by one of the servants.

"Thank you." (Y/N) murmured, tearing his eyes away from the injury and toward the tent's entrance when Emperor Romanos stepped inside, freshly changed into his armor and ready for the journey back home to the heart of his empire. He raised his hand to stop them both from standing, giving (Y/N) a small nod to continue working before he looked back at Harald and offered him a wide smile.

"I'm glad to see you're recovering." He said, striding closer to them and raising a hand to touch Harald's shoulder. "Harald, I am under no illusion that your heart is still in the North. That you fought for the Empire on my behalf... will not be forgotten."

"I was honored by your trust in me," Harald responded, and (Y/N) resisted the urge to sigh. He wrapped the cut quickly yet carefully before tying a knot to ensure the bandages would slip and risk the injury growing infected. He stepped back, drawing the eyes of both men who watched him as he cleaned his hands, his head bowed and disinterest in their conversation evident.

"A deserved trust." The Emperor said, a hint of amusement and knowing lacing his voice. He squeezed Harald's shoulder with a quiet chuckle and left the tent to mount his readied horse. They'd be allowed two to three days to recover from battle and gather supplies and treasures from the castle before following him to Constantinople.

"If you feel as if your injury is worsening," (Y/N) cleared his throat to catch Harald's attention. "Speak with a healer." He told him bluntly and slipped past him, leaving the tent and walking past the Emperor and General Maniakes whilst they spoke of what was to be done. He caught the General's eye, noticing the slight curl of his lip and rolling his eyes once Maniakes couldn't see his face.

The camp seemed to bustle with more life, most having already entered the castle to take whatever they could find. Leif had likely been among them, for he'd been eager to arrive after learning of a library holding ancient texts and books. (Y/N) would hardly find himself surprised if the next time he saw his brother he had a sack full of books and maps to be placed in his already cluttered home. He had little interest in the treasures and knowledge; Leif had already taught him more than enough and he hardly needed treasure to live happily. Greenlanders lived through trade, rarely ever finding themselves in need of coin.

Slipping into his tent, (Y/N) crouched down by his luggage full of clothes and sorted through it until he found a clean shirt to wear for the rest of the day. It'd likely grow dirtied and grimy by the time night fell but he preferred walking around with a clean shirt over a bloodied one. He reached back and slipped off the shirt, tossing it aside and standing back up with the new one in hand. He stuck his arms and head through the holes and let it slip over his body, his ears catching the rustling of the tent flaps and footsteps entering.

"We should talk."

"Then talk, Harald." (Y/N) sighed and turned to face him, his arms folding over his stomach and brow arching for him to speak. Harald's lips pursed, glancing over his shoulder and stepping fully into the tent toward him once certain nobody would be interrupting them. (Y/N) straightened up when he drew closer and Harald stopped, a deep frown spreading on his face.

"How much longer are you going to do this, (Y/N)? Three years ago you claimed it would be for the best if we were no longer lovers and I told you I'd prove myself to be capable of everything you wished for. I have showered you with my treasures, I ensure you have everything you can desire, I stand by while you bring others to your bed. I am a General for the Empire and with all the riches I've sent my uncle, I know I am more than wealthy. What else must I do?" Harald's hardened voice softened, his steps slow as he approached, almost as if dealing with an animal that could lash out at any moment.

"I never asked for any of that." (Y/N) reminded him softly, and allowed him closer with little complaint. Harald's hands found their way onto his hips, squeezing lightly and pulling him closer to him. (Y/N) turned his head away to avoid looking into Harald's soft eyes, for he knew it'd make it harder to keep to his wits if he dared look at his face.

"It is torture, (Y/N). You reject my advances yet accept the advances of others. You allow me to sleep in your bed some nights but refuse to other nights. I will not be able to take this for much longer. I... I don't know how you feel about me anymore." His hand rose to gently grab his face, turning his head so he'd be forced to look him in the eyes. (Y/N) pressed his lips tightly together and looked at the storm of emotions in his eyes, similar emotions he felt swirling in his gut. "I love you, (Y/N). I've loved you since the moment I witnessed your abilities and the care you have for those close to you. You have fascinated me for years, ever since the day I first laid eyes on you on that boat in Kattegat. I need you. My heart, my mind, my soul, my blood, it all longs for you."

"I want to believe you, Harald, but each time I allow myself to trust you.. you only do what you desire. I am simply living my life, and it seems that I suffer the least when you are not consuming me. I have my own home, my own things, I have new friends and- and yes, I have lovers but it is only because I am no longer waiting for you to change. I care for them.. and I know that if I were to ask, at least one of them would be willing to do what you refuse to. I'm happy, Harald."

The dreaded silence returned, leaving them to stare into each other's eyes. Harald leaned forward to press their foreheads together, his calloused thumb running back and forth over his cheek and his nose gently bumping against (Y/N)'s. He inhaled heavily. "We were happy once, back in Kattegat... in the cabin. We fight most when we live apart, (Y/N)... when we refuse to speak our minds. We were supposed to spend our time in Constantinople together. I want us to be happy again, together. We can go back to those times, back to what we once were. Allow me back in, (Y/N), and we can be happy together, I swear it."

"Harald..." (Y/N) exhaled, his arms unfolding and allowing Harald to press their chests firmly together. His fingers ran through the soft curls along the back of his head, his other hand resting on the prince's shoulder and lightly squeezing him. He felt the familiar feeling of Harald's breath dancing along his skin, a familiar desire bubbling in the pit of his stomach that he often tried pushing away. Harald's hands slipped down to grasp his hips again, squeezing once more and tugging him as close as possible.

His fingers curved around the bottom of (Y/N)'s shirt and slipped under, dragging along his back and dancing over old scars until his palm pressed flat against him and he closed the distance. His lips pressed against (Y/N) and sent a shot of familiarity and longing down his spine that made (Y/N) push on Harald's head to be as close as possible. Harald's touch roamed under his shirt until he leaned down slightly to scoop his thighs in his hands and heave him up, a startled and muffled laugh leaving (Y/N). His parted lips allowed for Harald's tongue to dart between them and get him reacquainted with every inch of him as Harald's hefty legs led them toward (Y/N)'s bed.

Harald plopped back on the bed, settling (Y/N) on his lap and bunching up his shirt in his hands. (Y/N) drew back for air and tilted his head back, shivering when Harald ghosted his lips over his throat until he found the spot he knew made (Y/N)'s breath hitch and lightly sunk his teeth into it. (Y/N) released a strangled groan and curled his fingers in Harald's hair, his arm sliding around his shoulders and lips leaving scattered kisses along the top of his head.

Right as Harald went to lift (Y/N)'s shirt, the ground abruptly trembled with the sound of a distant explosion that made them both go still. The camp around them came to life with panicked and confused shouts, quiet panting escaping the two as they waited for more noise but nothing came. (Y/N) swallowed, his brows dipping into a furrow and hands pushing Harald's shoulders back.

"Seems like the Gods have spoken," He muttered, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and scrambling off Harald's lap before he could stand and knock him over. (Y/N) adjusted his shirt, tucking it into his pants before tossing apart the flaps of the tent and turning to look toward the fortress where a dark cloud of smoke rose from within the walls. His head snapped to look around him, searching those standing around for any sign of General Maniakes. The man was nowhere in sight.

"Get us our horses!" Harald shouted toward the nearest Varangian, his eyes locked on the smoke rapidly rising toward the clouds above and waiting for any signs of other explosions. (Y/N) swore he could pick up the faint sound of screaming and wailing in the distance but nobody ran from the fortress in fear.

The Varangian solider sped off further into camp and returned with their two horses, handing them the reins and staggering back as the two climbed onto their respective mounts. The horses galloped forward the fortress at their commands, dodging past those standing around camp and heading up the trail toward the open gates. They skidded to a stop inside where the two spotted Leif being held back by General Maniake's men, a furious sneer on his face.

"How could you do this?!" Leif demanded with a shout, struggling against the soldiers surrounding him and holding him with the ferocity of a Viking. "Women and children!"

"Our enemy." The lack of remorse or even sympathy in General Maniakes' voice sent a chill down (Y/N)'s spine, only pure venom dripping from the tongue of the man who'd been all too eager to go forth with a religious war. (Y/N) noticed the catapults nearby, the residue of sulfur littered around them, and with barely contained horror, his eyes dragged over to the section of the fortress that'd been gated shut, the sickly smell of burning flesh mixing with the stench of the sulfur.

"The Emperor gave his word!" Harald bristled, his knuckles turning white from the grip he held on the reins as he came to the same startling and horrifying realization. Maniakes looked at him over his shoulder, his lips curled up into a twisted sadistic smirk. (Y/N) had only ever seen the General show little emotion, his eyes almost always holding anger or malice.

"To a dead man." He turned to face them. "Saracens are like vermin. If you do not destroy them, they will multiply and spread, and soon wipe out Christianity. I did what the Emperor could not."

"You murdered them!" Leif spat viciously.

"No, Leif Eriksson," General Maniakes smirk only widened as he faced Leif and walked up to him, raising his sulfur-covered fingers up to his face. Leif swallowed thickly. "You did. It was your science that was the weapon. Your imagination did this. I... was just the messenger."

With that, General Maniakes stepped away, stalking off with his soldiers right at his heels. The anger in Leif's body vanished, his shoulders slumping and chest heaving as a look of resignation, defeat, and realization passed over his face at once. The light that'd been in his body for so many years had been swiftly extinguished with just a few words. (Y/N) could only watch hopelessly.

➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸

The streets of Constantinople had been filled to the brim with residents and travelers welcoming back the armies and congratulating them on their success with cheers, whistles, claps, and music. They stood at the sidelines as the two Generals led their armies through the street with their heads held high with pride. They'd both been given new armor with a lion as the crest; the beginning of their rewards for succeeding in Sicily. (Y/N) followed behind Harald's horse, surrounded by his friends and brother in the march to meet the Emperor and Empress who eagerly awaited their arrival.

(Y/N) snorted when a woman broke away from the crowd to race up to Batu, her hands grasping the sides of his face and mushing their lips together for a messy kiss. Dorn immediately scowled and tore the woman away from him, shoving her roughly back into the crowd before throwing a half-hearted punch at the bewildered Batu's arm. Kaysan cackled and held a hand to his stomach, staggering forward to clap Batu's shoulder and tease them.

"Keep going," Leif said into his ear, patting his shoulder before he stepped out of the march and into the crowd near an alleyway. (Y/N) slowed down his pace and frowned at the sight of his brother disappearing through the crowd, his heartstrings tugging violently but his feet continuing to walk forward. Leif needed his space, he wouldn't rid him of that.

The armies eventually broke off into two sections once they reached the outer yard of the palace, one side for General Maniake's men and another for General Harald's men. The two generals stepped onto a wooden podium decorated with vines and flowers, the chaos and music around them dying down so the priest who stood on the balcony overlooking them could speak.

"Pantodýnama Kyverníti, órise aftoús tous stratiótes stous Agíous Sou Angélous, fýlaxé tous me ti dýnamí Sou kai krátisé tous ypó tin prostasía Sou. Amen!" Almighty Ruler, assign these soldiers to Your Holy Angels, guard them with Your strength, and keep them under Your protection. Even if living in Constaniople hadn't been his first choice, he'd been able to learn a new language with the help of Leif. Those in the crowd who practiced the faith bowed their heads and made a cross with their fingers before erupting into cheers at the sight of Emperor Romanos.

Raising his hand, he waited for the cheering to cease before speaking, "Today, we welcome back our beloved army.. and celebrate their overwhelming victory in Sicily! The victory of your sons, sons of the mightiest people in the world, the people of Constantinople; an Empire that stretches from the Alps to Asia!" He raised his arms and the crowd cheered, a wide smile on his face. "And now, I present my wife, the Empress Zoe."

Over the past seven years, (Y/N) had watched her transform from Lady Eleana to Empress Zoe of Constantinople. She'd seemingly fallen into the role of the empress with little trouble, managing to exude an aura of grace and regalness as she strode up to take her place beside her husband. She smiled, looking between her two loyal Generals. Married life suited her well, and the Emperor always seemed to regard her with much respect and love. Yet still, her eyes glided over to him and then jumped back to the two men.

"Georgios Maniakes.. and Harald Sigurdsson, you are true sons of Constantinople, and we are in your debt. As a reward for your triumphant actions in Sicily, we bestow upon you the title, Spatharokandidatos, the highest honor of an Imperial Warrior, a status signified by your new armor. Behold your heroes!" At her words, the cheering resumed and the two turned around to face their armies and show off the new armor, and their new status.

As expected, within the palace was a feast and more celebrations for the army and especially for those close to the Generals. Music played throughout the halls and many danced, cheering and celebrating another win. (Y/N) merely watched as he grazed on the food available, snacking on the various fruits and taking small sips of the wine being offered around. Batu, Dorn, and Kaysan chatted amongst themselves, laughing and exchanging antidotes. (Y/N) listened, chuckling or nodding along until a hand delicately, and briefly, touched his arm.

"Empress," The three ceased their chatter yet still held wide smiles as they bowed their heads. (Y/N) finished his wine and set it aside before turning around to face Empress Zoe and dipping his head as well. Her smile widened, shifting away from polite to genuine as her eyes softened. Rare were the times they could all be together and chat as they once did.

"It is good to see you all." She admitted softly, glancing around in search of the missing men before she looked at (Y/N) with furrowed brows. "Where is Leif?"

"He was tired when we arrived. I assume he's gone home to rest for the day."

"Ah, well, tell him I miss him, and I am glad he still plots his own course instead of doing what others want." Empress Zoe told him, a gentle chuckle escaping her. Her light blue eyes studied his features, her earrings swaying with the movements of her crowned head. The others exchanged glances and dipped their heads again, slipping away to leave them be with quiet chuckles and whispers. "I am glad to see you, (Y/N). It has been much time since we last spoke. I don't believe I ever thanked you for looking out for me on our voyage here. It seems like so long ago, but I remember the good times we all had."

"Yes, the others often speak of those times." (Y/N) smiled, lightly clearing his throat and glancing over his shoulder at his friends. He hardly wished to be left alone with Empress Zoe, especially with the Emperor's keen eye watching them from his throne. He licked his lips and looked back at her, gazing over the long, beautiful gown she wore. It was a shimmery dark blue with golden designs in the shapes of features along her chest, shoulders, and neck that were similar to the crown on her head. "Marriage and ruling becomes you, Zoe."

"Thank you." She smiled bashfully, her fingers lacing together and her eyes glittering with joy. "I do regret not being able to see you on the battlefield anymore, it's always been where you shine best. Though, if you perhaps would prefer staying home, I could always speak with my husband on finding a different job for you."

"Oh, I-"

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to take away one of my finest warriors, Empress. I often require his advice on many things." Harald's voice cut in, light and teasing but with an undertone only (Y/N) seemed to pick up. Jealously, as it seemed, appeared to be an emotion Harald had become aquantainted with. He stopped at his side and took a swing of the wine in hand, his eyes holding Empress Zoe's gaze as he set his cup aside.

"Spatharokandidatos," She greeted, her head slightly tilting to the side. "I must know, with all your victories, do you still wish to return to Norway and be king?"

"My desires have never wavered, Empress. I still believe it is my destiny, even if others do not." Harald's gaze slid over to (Y/N), his words bringing a deadpan look to (Y/N)'s face. He rolled his eyes and picked up another cup of wine from one of the passing trays, squinting at the grin that spread on Harald's lips. "Though, I believe some destinies can change over time and with certain circumstances."

"I see." Empress Zoe hummed and stepped back, her gown sliding along the floor with each stride she took until she slipped out of view. (Y/N) swallowed down a gulp of wine that burned his throat, his lips no doubt stained from the drinks he'd had throughout the celebration, and he turned to look at Harald only to notice some palace guards approaching.

"Spatharokandidatos, you must come with us." One of them ordered, and (Y/N) heart sank when Harald furrowed his brows in confusion. He gave a curt nod and glanced at (Y/N) and the others before being escorted out of the room. (Y/N) stared after him, his fingers anxiously digging and rubbing into the designs on his cup.

Unable to provide the others with answers and finding little to distract himself with, (Y/N) excused himself and left the palace, making his way out into the bright, bustling streets of Constantinople. He reached to his shoulders and unclipped the blue cape from his armor to avoid drawing attention from others as he walked through the streets, entering through alleyways and stepping up countless staircases until he reached the street his home resided on.

(Y/N) pushed the gate open and walked down the pathway until he spotted the stone house perched on a hill overlooking the glimmering ocean; though it was hardly anything in comparison to Leif's home and Harald's estate. He immediately felt at peace away from the noise and hustle of city life, stepping through the wooden doors and finding his belongings sitting on the floor. Ridding himself of the cape and armor and changing into more comfortable clothing, he began putting everything away back where it belonged with the scent of the salty ocean breeze flowing in and clinging to his skin once more.

With his home taken care of, he decided to check on his brother and took the stone trail leading to Mariam's old place. The subtle smell of smoke and fire filled his nose as he ascended the stairs, taking note of the lit fire pit bowl and the contents slowly burning inside. He moved closer and reached in, pinching and pulling out a piece of paper before the flames could lick at his hand. He gently blew on it and brought it close to his face, faintly making out words written in Arabic.

"I have no use for these any longer." The exhaustion in Leif's voice made him wince and he watched with a frown as Leif tossed in scrolls, journals, and papers, the fire eagerly eating and burning them. "This knowledge, the writings... it all led to the destruction of innocents."

"Leif, everything can be destructive if wielded by the wrong person. Weapons, knowledge, kingdoms... Maniake's actions are not on you. You cannot let him get into your mind. He is merely another Jarl Kåre eager to hurt what you believe in." (Y/N) crumbled the paper in his hands and followed his brother into the home that so comfortingly felt like a living part of Mariam. "Do you truly believe he wouldn't have hurt those people? He wanted this, Leif. It was all part of his religious war on those opposed to Christianity."

"And if I had been more careful with my things, then perhaps he wouldn't have taken notice and used it against me," Leif responded, sharply turning to face his brother and grabbing his shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving him. "Seeing those innocents die... seeing them burn alive made me think of all we've done. The places we've conquered that did not surrender easily, the people we've slaughtered fighting other men's wars... for what? The first war we fought was for Freydis, and then what of the others? For glory? For rewards? Blood needlessly spilled... I cannot bear it."

(Y/N) stared at him, his brows slowly lowering and his frown only growing. "You're leaving... aren't you?" His voice sounded soft, like that of a child's and he swallowed harshly, his heart squeezing. Leif's shoulders slumped and he dropped his hands from (Y/N)'s shoulders, his lips pressing together as he gave a small nod of confirmation. "Oh." He breathed shakily.

"I know it is not what you wish to hear, (Y/N), and I won't ask you to follow me again. You have made a home here in Constantinople and I cannot ask you to abandon it for me. I have... found that knowledge, even when I wished to use it for good, only seems to destroy things. In my thirst for knowledge, I hardly stopped to think of the people who lost their homes because of us. I don't want to bloody my hands any further."

Tears pricked the back of his eyes and he forced out a hum, nodding slowly. "Where- Where will you go? If you are returning to Greenland-"

"No, no, not Greenland." Leif shook his head and stepped aside, retrieving his satchel from the floor and dumping the contents inside over the table. He sorted through them until he found a rolled-up paper, spreading it out against the table. (Y/N) shifted closer and peered down at it, blinking dumbfoundedly at what he assumed to be a drawing. Largely made of blue with white lines and two muted yellow shapes on opposite sides. "I found this in the library in the Book of the Unknown. Nobody knows what it is supposed to be or who made it, only that its origins trace back to Corfu. I suspect that this-" He pointed to one of the shapes. "-is Greenland, and this land across is the Golden Land."

"The Golden Land? The land you believed you saw on that fishing trip? The one with the tall trees just over the horizon? Father said it was nothing, Leif."

"I know, I know, but if I can ask the creator of this map why he drew this or where this land is located, I could find it once more. It is why I plan on traveling to Corfu and asking the people there for their local mapmaker. He may know what this is or point me in the direction of who made it." Leif explained, rolling the paper back up and offering him a sad smile as he cupped his cheek. "I know it will be hard. I cannot imagine sailing without you, (Y/N), but sooner or later we would've had to part ways. I swear on the memory of Mariam and Liv, I will come back once I find my answers. Then, if this Golden Land really exists, we can go to Jomsborg and tell Freydis about it."

"I don't think I can manage without you, Leif." (Y/N) admitted softly, shakily. "I've always gone everywhere with you. I've always been your shoulder, your partner, your right hand. What if something happens? What if I need you and you're not here? Parting ways with Freydis and not knowing how she's been doing is hard enough but-"

"You will manage, (Y/N). You're stronger than you think. You've survived the cruelty of man and nature and still hold little hate in your heart. I know things have been hard between you and Harald, and I am hardly the right person to ask when it comes to love... but you can rely on him, if not as a lover then as a friend. Kaysan, Batu, Dorn... they need you and you need them. You'll take care of each other, I know you will." Leif assured him gently, leaning forward to press a fleeting kiss to his forehead. "You made a promise to your prince, and you've never been one to break a promise. If I do not come back in time and I hear of a new king being crowned in Norway, I'll know where to find you."

(Y/N) felt like a child again as the hot tears spilled over his cheeks and trickled off his chin, memories of his younger self weeping when Leif and the older boys went on fishing trips with the adults resurfacing. Simpler times then, when the only thing he cried over were his brother leaving or his father going on one of his angry tangents. He threw his arms around Leif and buried his face in his shoulder, his body lightly trembling with sobs.

"(Y/N)," Leif exhaled, a slight tremor in his voice that he swallowed down, his arms wrapping tightly around him in return. He caressed the back of (Y/N)'s head as he ran soothing circles along his back, a strained chuckle escaping him. "You know we'll always find each other. You, Freydis, and I... in this life and the next, and all the lives that follow, we'll always find each other. Remember that, Brother. Remember where you came from and- and who you are... remember who your family is. We are Vikings, no matter where we go."

"I know," (Y/N) sighed, sniffling as he drew back. He wiped at his wet cheeks, brushing away the tears and letting a small smile grace his features. Leif returned it, his eyes gleaming with tears that he managed to hold back. "I love you, Leif."

"And I'll always love you too, (Y/N)."

78 notes · View notes

aikaterini-drag · 2 years ago

Text

Behold, the fierce Harald, draped in fur, a warrior's warmth amidst the cold winds of the North! 🌬️🛡️❄️

370 notes · View notes

artficlly · 1 month ago

Text

sweetpea [one-shot]

post-apocalyptic marvel au

retired!hero!bucky x fem!reader After the Riftborn War, Bucky Barnes seeks to retire from his past as a hero and settle down, you might just be the peace he’s been looking for all along.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, p in v, against tree sex, outdoor sex, no protection, vague primal vibes, very consensual, kissing, underwear ripping, if you squint, there's some plot, teeth-rotting fluff, it's so cute, bucky barnes is the sweetest, beefy bucky, yelena meddles, steve rogers is horrified, spring festivals, paganism, masks, drinking, mentions of past violence, death and war, mentions of readers previous relationships, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: hello! it's nearly my birthday so heres a treat for you all. i've been sitting on this idea for AGES. i've been working hard on the daughter of the rotsál first draft, so i decided to take a break from the angst for some fluffy, cute smut!! please let me know if you enjoy and your thoughts! sorry for any typos - not proof read. permanent tag list: @globetrotter28

main masterlist

Being fucked over the table was not unwelcome but rather surprisingly pleasant, even if it derailed your breakfast plans.

Leif had always been a rather attentive lover, skilled at pulling orgasm after orgasm out of your needy cunt. He possessed stamina and a hint of roughness that stirred warmth within you, yet something still felt absent. This elusive quality lingered throughout your year together—an unexpressed awareness that simmered between you. Leif was kind, diligent, attractive, and strong. He was considerate, often surprising you with gifts and regularly praising your looks and cooking. Your friends approved of him.

So even if that brief and passionate session had been perfect, him thrusting into you from behind so intensely that your toes curled and you had to press your face against the wooden surface to keep from screaming—you realised it was all somewhat melancholic. The thing that was missing between you and your Springbond was that fabled spark.

The decision to part ways had hurt, but you both knew it was right. A week before you had made the decision, on Mayflame he would move out, and the both of you would be single once more. The morning sex had been a goodbye of sorts, in typical Leif style. Even if you aligned perfectly, you inevitably amassed a long list of differences that broke the perfect illusion. You desired to settle down, concentrate on your work and home, and build connections with those nearby.

In contrast, Leif craved adventure and excitement—obviously, the Bleeding Age hadn’t brought enough danger and activity into his life. He later confessed that he was eager to sleep around more, as he was still a young man exploring his possibilities. This revelation didn’t necessarily shock or hurt you; you had captured his attention for the entire year, far beyond your predictions. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder... were you boring?

After years of undue stress, survival, and several near-death experiences, you were eager to take advantage of the calm that followed the defeat of the Riftborn and the end of the Bleeding Age. You had to remind yourself—somewhat bitterly—that Leif was not the first and would not be the last.

“Did you see who that was?” Yelena exclaimed from beside you, her hand gripping your forearm tightly. You nearly leapt in surprise, abruptly pulled from your thoughts. Your head turned as you looked back, tracking Yelena’s gaze. “I swear to the fucking gods that was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes—”

You squinted at the backs of the two men who had passed you by.

They walked like soldiers—steady, assured, their movements streamlined but commanding. No hesitation, no wasted motion, just the certainty of men who had spent years on battlefields, who had fought and bled and survived when others hadn’t. They were massive, even under their coats, their broad shoulders and thick arms unmistakable beneath the heavy fabric. Towering over the people around them, they carried themselves with the kind of presence that didn’t demand attention but took it anyway.

“The captain and the sergeant?” You shot back, doubt curling around your words as your brow furrowed. “I thought they were stationed in Stonebrook until the village was built.”

“They were… but last I heard, Stonebrook’s finished.” Yelena’s voice had an eager edge; her gaze locked onto the two figures even as they disappeared around a street corner, swallowed by the cobbled streets. “They were invited back for the Mayflame celebrations. The word is that they want to retire from the soldier business now the war is over.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging at her arm with a huff. “Come on, we’re going to be late—”

“But do you think they’ll run in Mayflame?” Yelena pressed, barely budging under your pull.

“I mean, gods, can you imagine if Steve Rogers was your Springbond?” She exhaled, almost breathless at the thought, her fingers tightening around your sleeve as if the mere idea was enough to set her heart racing.

You grit your teeth, heat rising in your face—not from excitement but from secondhand embarrassment. A group of older women lingered outside your destination, snickering between themselves at Yelena’s loud ponderings. With a sharp yank, you pulled her off the street and into the village hall, the heavy wooden doors thudding shut behind you, sealing away the crisp morning air and her starry-eyed ramblings.

“There you two are! I need all the hands I can get!”

A flustered-looking Pepper Potts intercepted you and Yelena before you could fully step inside, already ushering you towards a large pile of decorations. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, auburn hair pinned haphazardly at the nape of her neck, a sure sign that she had been running herself ragged in preparation for the festival.

“I’ve got half the boys working on the course and the bonfire,” she said, exhaling sharply. “Can you please cart these down and get started on the flowers?”

“Of course,” you replied with a quick nod, already sizing up the pile, considering how best to carry everything down in as few trips as possible.

Yelena, however, had other priorities. “Pepper, are the captain and sergeant joining the Mayflame?” She asked shamelessly, barely masking the anticipation in her tone.

But Pepper had already turned, swept away by the tide of arriving villagers, barking orders as she moved—clearly too busy to entertain Yelena’s curiosity.

You scoffed, sinking your hands into a collection of freshly cut flowers, their stems already bundled neatly for easy transport. You had grown and picked them yourself, much to Pepper’s praise. In recent years, you found comfort in your gardens and flowerbeds. The scent of wild blooms filled your nose, the petals soft against your fingers as you began sorting through them. “Yelena, stop meddling and help me.”

“Fine, but you are no fun!” Yelena groaned, throwing herself down beside you with dramatic flair. Then, as if compelled by some unseen force, she added with a wistful sigh, “I know you’re upset about Leif, but at least let me dream of a raunchy, hero-filled Mayflame.”

Her voice carried farther than she likely intended. Several nearby villagers—some heaving chairs, others hauling tables—stopped mid-task, casting curious glances in your direction.

Mortified, you didn’t dignify her with a response.

—

“I mean, you keep saying you’re not upset about Leif, but you’re obviously upset.”

Yelena’s voice drifted up from below, thick with scepticism. She was not taking her duty of stabilising the ladder very seriously. The wooden rungs wobbled beneath your feet, shifting with every careless movement she made. A quick glance down confirmed your suspicions. She was barely gripping the beams, more occupied with craning her neck up the hill, no doubt hoping for another glimpse of the fabled Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes.

You sighed, your arms burning from the strain. You had foolishly volunteered for the painstaking task of weaving flowers through the towering wooden archways that framed the festival’s entrances. The Mayflame decorations were meant to be intricate and beautiful—braided vines, bundles of wildflowers, bright ribbons fluttering in the evening breeze—but at this rate, you’d be lucky if you made it out of this task without breaking a limb.

“I’m not upset,” you grumbled, though your voice lacked conviction. You worked the soft stems of sweetpeas and baby’s breath into a sturdy braid, securing them with twine against the wooden frame. “We made a mutual decision. It wasn’t working. Just a Mayflame fling...”

Yelena snorted from below, unimpressed. The ladder swayed as she shifted, and you tightened your grip, heart stuttering. “You two lived together for a year. I think it was a little more than a fling.”

You exhaled sharply, your fingers tightening around the flowers. “If he wants to run off, sleep around, and travel, who am I to hold him back, Lena? He wanted something different than I did. It never would have worked.”

“I just…” Yelena hesitated. “I just don’t like thinking about you living up on that farm by yourself.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you reached for another bundle of flowers. “Then come visit me more often instead of spending all your nights at the tavern, bothering Nat. I need all the help I can get wrangling those weeds—”

The words barely left your mouth before the ladder jerked violently beneath you.

Your stomach lurched as you wobbled. You instinctively reached for the wooden arch to steady yourself but overcorrected. The shift in weight sent the ladder tilting dangerously, its legs twisting beneath you. The basket of flowers on your hip slipped free, tumbling towards the grass below in a flurry of petals.

“Yelena! The ladder—!”

“There’s a bee in my hair!” Yelena shrieked, her grip altogether abandoning the wooden beams as she flailed wildly. “Gods, if it stings me, I swear—”

You had no time to process her nonsense. The world lurched violently as the ladder lost its precarious balance, tipping sideways with terrifying speed.

Air whipped at your cheeks as you plunged downward. Your arms shot up in a feeble attempt to protect your head, your entire body bracing for the inevitable collision with the earth below.

But the pain never came.

Instead, you collided with something solid—something warm.

A pair of strong arms locked tightly around your middle, yanking you against a broad, muscled chest. The force of your fall sent both of you toppling over; your breath knocked from your lungs as your saviour twisted to absorb the impact. The two of you crashed into the grass in a tangled heap.

A startled squeak escaped your lips as you landed atop them, hands splayed flat against their chest. Their sheer size was dizzying—hard muscle beneath the thin fabric. The steady rise and fall of their breathing made you acutely aware of how firmly you were pressed against them.

For a long second, neither of you moved, your heart pounding as you processed what had just happened. Then, slowly, the arms around your waist loosened. A deep, low voice rumbled beneath you, quieter than you expected yet laced with a restrained amusement.

“Careful, angel. Keep this up, and people will talk.”

Your breath hitched, pulse stuttering as you realised who lay beneath you. Bucky Barnes.

A cold rush of realisation hit like a shock to the system. Your eyes widened in alarm as you took in the situation. Your hands braced against the solid plane of his chest, his body beneath yours, broad and unmoving. Worse, your legs were hooked around his hips, the warmth of him seeping through your clothes—oh gods, were you sitting on his—?

Panic jolted through you. Without a second thought, you scrambled off him in a flurry of movement, heat rushing to your face. Your hands shot up instinctively as if you could wave away the mortifying situation.

“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Bucky didn’t move immediately. He remained where he was, lying on the ground, one arm bent behind his head. The dappled sunlight filtering through the trees cast shadows on his face, highlighting the defined angles of his cheekbones and the depth of his blue eyes. There was no teasing smirk, no cocky remark—just a quiet, lingering patience.

Finally, with a slow, fluid motion, he pushed himself upright, his expression unreadable.

“It’s fine,” he assured, his voice smooth but low, edged with something thoughtful. Just a quiet confidence that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

You took a hurried step back, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the erratic beat of your heart refused to settle. You’d always known of Bucky Barnes—the colder one, the quiet one. The man whose name carried a reputation as cutting as winter’s first frost. Yet now, looking at him, the weight of that reputation felt at odds with how he carried himself.

There was something measured about his movements, deliberate and careful, as though he were wary of taking up too much space.

The silence stretched between you until his voice, softer this time, broke through. “You’ve got a little something…”

His hand shot up before you could reply—quick yet remarkably gentle. His fingers delicately moved through your hair, his careful touch igniting a familiar warmth in your gut.

You froze.

He plucked something from your hair and turned it over in his fingers. A single sweetpea, its delicate petals trembling in the breeze. Bucky studied it with quiet intensity, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Sweetpea,” he murmured, as if the word carried weight, his gaze flicking back to meet yours. How he looked at you—calm yet piercing—made your breath catch. For a fleeting moment, the world felt impossibly still.

Your cheeks burned. You didn’t even know why.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Something flickered across his face, subtle but there. Not quite a smile, but something close, something softer than you would have expected from a man with his reputation.

“You don’t have to apologise,” he said simply. Then, after a beat, quieter: “You could’ve hurt yourself.”

It was such a small thing. Barely even a kindness. You were glad the hero couldn’t sense the throbbing between your legs. Maybe this break-up with Leif had indeed done a number on you, lusting after the first man who showed you kindness... but there was something rather magnetic about the sergeant you couldn’t quite understand.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus and gather the scattered remnants of your pride. Your gaze turned to the abandoned basket of flowers at your feet, a welcome distraction.

"Right, well, thank you,” you muttered. “I should probably—”

You motioned vaguely toward the half-finished floral arch, eager to redirect the moment into something less intense. But before Bucky could respond, a sharp, frantic voice shattered the moment.

“Oh, gods! I’m so sorry, there was a bee, and I just—are you okay?” You barely had time to brace before Yelena was upon you, hands gripping your shoulders, her wide green eyes scanning your face as if she expected to find a gaping wound. You squirmed under her touch, cheeks still burning.

“I’m fine, Lena,” you mumbled, trying to pry her hands off you. “Really.”

“Yes, of course! This gentleman saved you—” Yelena cut herself off mid-sentence, her entire body freezing as she finally got a good look at him. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in unfiltered shock. “Wait. You’re Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, barely, but you caught it. A flicker of something. Not quite discomfort, but something close. His posture stiffened, his fingers flexing once before settling back into stillness.

He didn’t confirm or deny it. He just gave a slow, short nod. You saw the way his throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed, the way he held himself—not defensive, exactly, but closed off as if he had already braced for whatever reaction was coming next.

Yelena’s gaze darted between you, her sharp mind working fast. Too fast. There was a feral glint in her eyes, one you knew well. You could practically see the cogs turning in her mind, a meddling scheme already in action. You held back a groan.

Before she could say something truly insufferable, a sharp, shrill voice rang out from across the unlit bonfire.

“There you are! I need more flowers—can you believe it? I thought we’d have enough with all that you grew. Please tell me you have more in that garden of yours!” You blinked, grateful for the interruption, and immediately turned towards the sound of Pepper’s voice.

“Yes, of course,” you called back, relief flooding through you. “I grew extra just in case. I had a feeling this might happen.”

“Wonderful! Oh, you’re a lifesaver today,” Pepper’s voice rose in excitement. “Leave the floral arches for now. I’ll have one of the girls help finish them up. If you could just run up to your garden—”

You didn’t need to hear the rest.

“Of course!” You cut her off a little too eagerly, desperate to get away from Yelena’s looming interrogation. It was almost like an escape route had opened, and you weren’t about to hesitate. Pepper barely seemed to notice your enthusiasm as she continued.

“Oh, but you won’t be able to carry them all alone, will you? Yelena, you’ll help her, won’t you? And, oh, Bucky, I didn’t realise you were down here already. If I send you and Steve up as well, can you help these lovely ladies?”

You turned towards him instinctively, almost uncertain of what to expect. Bucky, who had been silent throughout the exchange, lifted his head slightly. His eyes jumped towards Pepper, then towards you. His blue eyes were unreadable, his expression impossible to decipher.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Yeah.”

That was it. No unnecessary words, no wasted breath. Just a quiet, steady answer, the same way he seemed to carry himself, like a man who only spoke when it was worth speaking.

Yelena, on the other hand, was already on you like a hawk, latched onto your arm, nails digging through even your clothing as she grinned in excitement. Instead, you held back any protest that wanted to bubble to the surface, donning a hesitant smile. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the afternoon was about to take a turn for the absurd.

There was no way out of this now.

—

The sun sat high in the sky as the four of you climbed the hill towards the garden. The path was uneven, the dirt packed down from years of footsteps, the scent of wildflowers and earth thick in the warm air. You focused ahead, gripping the empty basket, determined not to meet anyone’s gaze—especially not Bucky’s.

Of course, Yelena had no such reservations. She walked beside Steve, hands clasped behind her back, the picture of feigned innocence. You could feel the question brewing before she even opened her mouth.

“So,” she began, her tone laced with a familiar mischief. “You two were some of the great heroes of the Blooded Age.”

Steve huffed a small, almost bashful laugh. “I wouldn’t call us heroes.”

“Really?” Yelena raised a brow. “Because I’ve heard plenty of stories that say otherwise. You fought monsters, saved villages, built armies—sounds pretty heroic to me.”

Steve glanced at Bucky as if expecting him to jump in, but the other man remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. Steve sighed and shrugged. “We did what needed to be done. It wasn’t about being heroes. People were dying, and the world was falling apart. We just... fought to keep it together.”

Yelena hummed, unimpressed with his humility. “And now you’re here. Retired.”

“That’s the plan.”

“You must be very tired.” She smirked. “All that fighting. Saving the world. Carrying such a heavy burden on those broad, broad shoulders.”

You choked on absolutely nothing, coughing into your hand as warmth flared in your cheeks.

Steve cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was time to put the war behind us.”

Yelena turned to Bucky, who had been walking a step behind, silent as ever. “And what about you, Barnes? Tired of fighting too?”

Bucky finally glanced her way, his expression unreadable.

“War doesn’t leave much room for a future.” His voice was low, quiet, but firm. “Figured it was time to start thinking about one.”

Yelena tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she was determined to solve. “And New Fernwick is the place to do that?”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. His attention turned to you—brief and mysterious—before he looked back at the trail. “Seems as good a place as any.”

Yelena smirked, but you reached the garden before she could push further.

“Here we are!” You announced, a little too brightly, desperate to change the subject.

You set your basket down and knelt to gather the flowers, focusing intently on the task. Yelena crouched beside you, plucking a few stems with ease. Steve busied himself as well, his hands surprisingly gentle as he worked.

Bucky, however, remained standing with his arms crossed as he surveyed the field of blooms. After a brief pause, he crouched, reaching for a flower near your basket. You watched as his fingers brushed over the petals carefully and deliberately.

Yelena noticed too. “Didn’t peg you for a flower guy, Barnes.”

Bucky plucked the stem and twirled it between his fingers, his expression unreadable. “You learn to appreciate the small things when you don’t see ‘em for a long time.”

The words were simple, but they settled in your chest, something unspoken lingering beneath them.

Yelena, for once, said nothing.

The silence stretched as the four of you worked, the baskets gradually filling, until until Yelena, as always, shattered it with a single sentence—one that made your stomach drop the moment it left her mouth.

“So, are you two going to do the Mayflame Run?”

Your fingers tightened around the delicate stems of the flowers in your hands, nearly crushing them. Heat flared up your neck, and you snapped your head towards her. “Yelena.”

She only grinned, tilting her head in mock innocence. “What?”

She batted her lashes. “It’s a fair question.”

Bucky and Steve glanced up from where they were crouched, picking through the wildflowers. The question had caught them off guard. Steve’s brow furrowed, curiosity laced with hesitation.

“What exactly is the Mayflame Run?” he asked.

You parted your lips, scrambling for a way to downplay it, but Yelena was already launching into her favourite pastime—oversharing.

“It’s a spring festival all about welcoming in the new season... new life... fertility and all that.” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis, an impish smirk tugging at her lips.

Steve blinked, his expression shifting into one of wary understanding. “Right…”

The mischief in Yelena’s eyes deepened as she continued.

“The main event is the run. We call it the Springbond Run, but let’s be honest—everyone knows what it’s really about. See, after the Blooded Age, people kind of… forgot how to date. Or just didn’t bother.” She waved a hand as if brushing aside years of devastation. “War, famine, monsters—it put a real damper on romance. And, well, people aren’t exactly repopulating at the rate they should be, so...”

She shot Steve a pointed look. “The elders decided to encourage things.”

Steve still looked uncertain. "And how does it work?”

You exhaled through your nose, adjusting your basket.

“The women carry torches and run through the dark forest,” you explained, keeping your voice even as possible. “The goal is to reach the clearing on the other side and light the bonfire.”

You hesitated, dreading the next part. “The men chase them.”

Steve’s brows lifted. “They chase them?”

You nodded stiffly, but Yelena was the one who answered.

“If you get caught,” she said breezily, “you have to date the guy who caught you for a week. You’re now each other’s Springbond. After that, you decide if you want to keep seeing each other or go your separate ways. Most end up sticking it out. Either for marriage or, at the very least, some fun.”

Your stomach twisted as Bucky’s gaze flickered towards you. He hadn’t spoken yet or reacted outwardly, but you felt the weight of his attention pressing against your skin like an unspoken question.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, clearly processing the information. “And what happens to the women who manage to light the bonfire?”

“Oh, then they get to choose who they spend the week with,” Yelena said. "Which honestly makes the whole thing even more exciting. It’s so dark, you don’t always know who’s chasing you until they’re right on top of you, pinning you to the ground—”

Steve choked on his own breath, shifting awkwardly. You clamped your eyes shut, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“Yelena.”

“What?” she said, all false innocence.

“It’s true. And let’s be real, some people don’t even wait until after the run to start celebrating.” She smirked. “All that adrenaline, all that tension, out there all alone in the woods—”

Steve made another strangled sound, and you wished, for the first time in your life, that you had the power to smite Yelena where she stood.

“And this is normal?” he asked weakly.

You let out a long breath. “Yes. It’s… tradition.”

Yelena’s smirk stretched wider, and a pit of dread opened in your stomach just before she delivered the final blow.

“Oh, she would know,” she said airily. “She’s done it three times.”

Silence.

You felt the shift in the air before you even looked up. Steve was already glancing away politely, but Bucky—Bucky’s gaze was steady, unyielding, waiting. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp beneath it, something that made your pulse stutter.

Your mouth went dry. “I—uh—yeah.”

Yelena cackled, delighted. “And she had quite the reputation for it, too. She and Leif turned it into a year-long one-night stand."

Your stomach dropped. Heat flared at your ears, mortification wrapping around your ribs like a vice. Steve coughed into his fist, visibly uncomfortable, but Bucky—Bucky still hadn’t looked away. The weight of his silence pressed against you, heavier than any words could be. He didn’t flinch, didn’t frown, didn’t even raise a damn eyebrow. He just watched as if waiting for you to offer something. An explanation. A reaction.

You swallowed hard.

Yelena, meanwhile, had absolutely no shame.

“Some people take the week actually to get to know each other,” she continued with a smirk. “Others treat it like a festival fling. A week-long one-night stand, if you will.”

She turned to Bucky then, eyes glinting. “You seem like the type who’d do a Mayflame run.”

Bucky finally exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “You get that from watching me pick flowers?”

Yelena leant in. “No, I got it from watching you look at her.”

Your breath hitched.

Bucky didn’t flinch. Didn’t react at all. He just held her gaze for a long moment before standing, dusting the dirt from his hands with deliberate ease.

“We should get these back,” he said.

That was it. No denial.

Your pulse thrummed in your ears as Yelena shot you a triumphant look, nudging your arm with her elbow. You shoved her back harder than necessary, grabbing your basket with too much force.

—

You had braided sweetpeas into your hair, their delicate petals—a cascade of soft pinks, purples, and whites—woven carefully through your strands. The fragrance clung to you, sweet and fleeting, barely noticeable except when the wind stirred just right. You didn’t know why you had done it. Maybe it was a whim, an idle distraction while you got ready for the Mayflame. Maybe it was some quiet hope you refused to name, a foolish sentiment born from the strange afternoon. Or maybe, worse than all of that, it was the loneliness of returning to an empty house.

Leif had left while you were gone. You hadn’t seen him pack or even heard the door shut behind him. Just silence, so much silence. His absence had been waiting for you like a ghost when you stepped inside. No trace of him remained, save for a few scuff marks on the wooden floor and a half-finished bottle of cider in the kitchen. You had stared at it for a long time before scrubbing the house clean in a fit of confused energy as if sweeping away the dust might sweep away the ache in your chest.

Did you even want to run tonight? If it always turned out this way?

Leif had been inevitable—his leaving, even more so. The one before him barely lasted the week. And the first... gods, the first. You didn’t let yourself think about that one.

Yet here you were, standing in the dark forest, a burning torch in your hand.

The other women huddled together, whispering in excited clusters, their laughter soft and secretive beneath the trees. The firelight flickered over their masked faces, catching on the gilded edges and painted symbols of the goddess of spring. Yelena was causing trouble somewhere in the throng, as always, her voice carrying through the dark.

“I swear, I can pick them out. I just need a second,” she was saying.

You sighed, already knowing exactly what she was up to.

“It’s a useless pursuit,” you had reminded her earlier. “They’ll be masked, everyone will. That’s the whole point.”

And yet, she was determined. You caught a glimpse of her through the shifting bodies, her blonde hair twisted into an elaborate crown braid behind her fox mask, taunting the gathered men. They stood on the opposite side of the clearing, a sea of darkened figures illuminated only by flickering torchlight. The line between hunter and hunted might have blurred if not for their masks.

You fiddled with the edges of your own mask, adjusting it once more against your face. Each mask bore the likeness of a creature of the forest—the women had prey animals: deer, rabbits, and foxes. You had chosen a wide-eyed doe, its carved wooden surface smooth against your fingertips. The men, in contrast, wore the guises of predators: wolves, bears, and great hunting birds.

A shiver trailed down your spine as you scanned their ranks, the shadows swallowing their bodies.

This was fate, they said. A tradition older than the Blooded Age. The goddess of spring would take the helm, guiding her children together.

Destiny, not choice.

You weren’t sure you believed in fate anymore.

Still, you craned your neck, searching for Yelena again before the race began. Some women had already lined up at the start, their torches raised, waiting for the signal. You pushed through the crowd, weaving past a group of masked rabbits, your torch casting long, twisting shadows over the forest floor.

Yelena stood at the edge of the men’s group, utterly unbothered, her fox mask tilted slightly as she studied them. The smirk you couldn’t see was undoubtedly plastered across her face.

“Lena,” you called lightly.

She turned towards you, still distracted. “You’d think we’d be able to recognise them even with the masks, right? They should be massive, but it’s so hard to tell in the dark—”

You grabbed her wrist, pulling her away. “Come on.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled.

As you turned, your torchlight swept over a lone figure standing at the edge of the men’s group. Half-shrouded in shadow, his wolf mask glinted in the firelight. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, yet there was an unmistakable intensity in his standing and watching.

You swallowed hard and averted your gaze.

Tugging Yelena along, you stepped towards the start line.

The time was near.

You gathered your skirts with one hand, feeling the rough fabric in your fist. The cool night air licked at your skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Around you, the other women shifted in anticipation, their torches flickering like stars in the dark. Somewhere beyond the trees, the men waited. Watching.

A hush fell over the gathered crowd. Then—

The drum sounded.

The tension snapped, and you ran.

Flames bobbed wildly as the women surged forward, feet pounding against the forest floor. Laughter rang through the night, breathless and high, voices calling to one another before being swallowed by the trees.

Yelena was gone in an instant, lost in the chaos.

You barely had time to register it before you were weaving between trunks, torchlight bouncing wildly in your periphery. Your skirts whipped around your legs, the rough fabric catching on twigs and undergrowth, but you didn’t slow. The forest stretched wide before you, vast and shrouded in shadows.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, heart hammering against your ribs.

It was exhilarating.

You could hear the others somewhere to your left, their laughter spilling through the trees, echoing their footfalls blending with your own. And behind you, somewhere in the dark, the men had begun their pursuit.

The sound of movement grew. Leaves rustled, and twigs snapped.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t dare look back.

Instead, you pushed forward, your torchlight slicing through the thick night. The distant hum of music reached your ears, the festival, just beyond the treeline. You were close. So close.

Then—impact.

A weight slammed into you from the side, knocking the air from your lungs. Your torch flew from your grasp, landing somewhere in the brush, its flame sputtering but not extinguished.

You hit the ground hard, back pressing into the cool earth, the scent of moss and crushed leaves filling your senses. Above you, a broad figure loomed, breathing heavily from the chase.

The dim torchlight barely illuminated him, casting jagged shadows across the carved wolf mask that stared down at you. The smooth, wooden surface gave away nothing—no expression, no hint of who was beneath it.

Your pulse thundered.

Around you, the chase still roared on. Footsteps pounded the earth, laughter echoing as others darted past, unseen but near.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming fast, your chest rising and falling. You had been caught.

But gods, it was thrilling.

The figure above you didn’t move, as if waiting—for what, you weren’t sure. His hands were braced on either side of you, caging you in, his breath still heavy from the chase. Yet he didn’t press his advantage or seize you like the others would have. Instead, he lingered, watching.

Then, in the flickering torchlight, he reached for your hair.

You barely breathed as his fingers tangled into the strands, the movement deliberate, almost reverent. Slowly, he plucked one of the deep violet sweetpeas from your braid, twirling it between his fingers before your masked face. The petals fluttered slightly with the motion, fragile between the ridges of his calloused fingertips.

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then, finally, his voice, low, deep, rough with exertion.

“Hey, sweetpea.”

The nickname sent a shock through you, something warm curling in your chest even as your breath hitched. Recognition dawned, sharp and sudden.

“Bucky?” You murmured, stunned.

Even if surprise coursed through you, it made sense. The sheer size of the body hovering above yours, the weight of him pressing into the earth, the controlled stillness…it was him. A reversed echo of your earlier position that day.

“How did you—”

“Your hair,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, rougher. “You put flowers in your hair. I recognised it.”

He reached up, fingers catching the edge of his mask, and in a smooth motion, he pulled it free. The last flickers of the torch beside you cast just enough light to reveal the sweat beading on his brow, the shadows cutting across his sharp features—and the unmistakable, almost feral gleam in his eye.

Something deep inside you clenched at the sight.

You exhaled a breathless laugh, your hands instinctively sliding up his broad shoulders, fingers curling around the back of his neck. Beneath your palms, his skin was hot, his pulse hammering. “I didn’t think you were running.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He hesitated, head tilting slightly as footsteps dashed past, followed by an excited shriek from one of the other women. The sound faded into the trees, leaving you in perfect darkness, only the two of you remaining in the silence. “But—”

He trailed off, his voice thick with something unspoken. His weight above you was solid, immovable, and gods, you liked it.

“Do you want this?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Instead of answering, you twisted your arm, pulling your mask off. You weren’t sure he could see the grin curling your lips in the dark, so you let your actions speak for you. Tugging him closer, your chests collided, heat blooming between you.

“Yes,” you breathed.

And then his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was molten, searing through your veins like wildfire. He wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t uncertain—he kissed you like he had been holding himself back for far too long, like the chase had only wound him tighter, and now he was unravelling against you.

You gasped into his mouth as he shifted, his weight pressing down on you, one hand sliding to your waist, fingers digging in, anchoring you to him. His other hand tangled in your hair, gripping just enough to make your head tilt back, giving him full access. He took it eagerly, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a slow, devastating stroke.

Heat pooled in your stomach, your legs shifting beneath him, but then—

With shocking ease, he moved.

For a brief second, you were weightless, a startled sound escaping your lips as he lifted you effortlessly from the ground. You barely had time to react before your back hit rough bark, the solid tree trunk now bracing you. His hands were firm as they guided your legs around his waist, pinning you in place. You could already feel his cock growing hard, pressed into one of your thighs as you squirmed beneath him.

A shudder wracked through you at his sheer strength, the way he handled you like you weighed nothing. The last remnants of your composure shattered when his lips found your throat, the scrape of his teeth ghosting over sensitive skin. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders, the sensation overwhelming and utterly intoxicating.

"You run fast, angel," he murmured against your skin, his voice dark and teasing. His lips trailed lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. "But not fast enough."

A breathless laugh escaped you, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling just enough to make him look at you. In the darkness, his blue eyes burned.

“I didn’t want to get away.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, and he just looked at you for a moment. Then, his grip on your waist loosened, fingers slipping beneath your skirts. He let out a deep groan as his digits navigated past your underwear, sweeping through the wetness already gathered. “You’re so wet already.”

You threw your head back at the small act of friction, your skull pressing hard into the rough bark as your chest heaved. He did one final pass, stroking through your folds. In the close distance between your faces, you could see a smirk lingering as your hips rocked involuntarily, begging for more.

Bucky brought his fingers to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours as he pressed them flat against his tongue, dragging them slowly past his lips. His eyelids fluttered briefly, his breath coming heavier as he tasted you, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest. “Mmm.”

Heat coiled in your stomach at the sound, something deep and electric winding tight inside you.

“Bucky—” The whine clawed unexpectedly from your throat, raw with desperation.

He smirked, his expression both teasing and dark, his hand slipping between your bodies.

“I know, sweetpea,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers fumbled blindly with his belt, metal clinking softly in the hush of the forest. You could feel his hunger in the way his body pressed against yours, restless, taut with restraint he was barely clinging to.

You rolled your hips against his hand, a breathless sigh spilling from your lips as friction sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs. He inhaled sharply, his head tilting slightly as if savouring the way you reacted to him.

“Tell me,” he coaxed, his voice lower now, almost commanding.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, nails digging in. Your head tipped back against the tree's rough bark, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your lips parted around the words.

“I need you,” you whispered. “Now.”

Something snapped in his expression.

Bucky didn’t hesitate.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as his fingers hooked into the delicate fabric of your underwear. His patience was fraying. No careful undressing, no gentle peeling away. His grip was rough and decisive, a growl slipping from his throat as he gave one sharp tug. The fabric tore effortlessly beneath his fast fingers, the sound lost beneath the hammering of your pulse in your ears. He didn’t even bother pulling them down—too impatient, too consumed by need.

You could practically feel your wetness dripping down to your thighs as he blindly lined himself up, cock pushing into your needy heat. Your head dipped, your mouth finding the top of his shoulder as you bit down lightly with a soft cry. The world beyond this moment—the festival, the music, the laughter—blurred into nothingness. The only thing that existed was the feverish press of his body, the way his fingers dug into your skin, anchoring you to him as if he never wanted to let go.

“Fuck.” He hummed low in your ear. His voice strained as he slowly rocked in and out of you. You could tell he was restraining himself, his muscles taut along his back. You hooked your legs around his waist tighter, pulling your bodies flush.

Bucky tilted his head, his lips ghosting over your jaw before finally finding your mouth, desperate and all-consuming. His pace faltered for a moment, a quiet groan slipping from his throat as you tightened around him.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ perfect—” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer. Your breath was hot against his neck and ear as you whispered. “Then don’t stop.”

Any type of restraint the hero had been holding snapped, his hips immediately jerking into action, beginning a relentless pace, withdrawing from you only to slam back inside. Each thrust sent sparks through your body, pleasure coiling tighter, overwhelming in its intensity. One of his hands roamed, sliding down your thigh to where you connected.

You let out a gasping moan into his shoulder as his thumb found your clit, the added circling motion sending a spike of pleasure up your spine. You felt your cunt tighten around him again as you jolted from the sensation, back arching inward.

“Bucky—” You groaned into his ear, head tilting as you laid hot, sloppy kisses that were all lips and tongue along his neck. You could taste salt on his skin, sweat beginning to mist both of you. The squelching and slapping sounds of your connected bodies echoed through the dark forest, the both of you barely holding back the pleasured moans and gasps.

“You gonna cum for me, angel?” Bucky growled against your throat. Your toes curled in delight. His strokes were already growing frantic and sloppy. You pushed yourself back against the trunk, chest heaving as you used your grip around his waist to grind yourself upon his thumb further. A coiling sensation grew in your gut, a knot beginning to tighten. You closed your eyes with a gasp, chasing the sensation.

“Y-Yes.” You stammered through your pants, nails digging into his shoulders as your body began to shudder around him. Bucky let out a dark chuckle, straining through his grit teeth as he continued to plough into you. His thumb circled once more, gentle but practiced. You felt your back arch involuntarily—

You moan his name as every wave of pleasure washes over you. Your hips buck and your thighs shake, but he doesn’t let up. His cock strokes inside of you at a continued relentless pace, and he moans right along with you. Bucky’s hand began to roam along your legs, gripping your flesh tighter as he chased his own release. There would be finger-shaped bruises all over your hips and thighs by the time this was over.

You’re panting above him. Eyes closed, the grip on his shoulders slackening as ropes of thick, hot cum fill you. His cock throbs, each pump releasing even more, only stopping as his hips stutter and his heated moans in your ear fade.

The two of you panted in the aftermath. Bodies still pressed together as the sounds of the forest slowly filtered back into your ears—the distant thrum of festival music, the rustling leaves overhead, the occasional laughter of those still running through the trees. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Bucky shifted first, pressing a lingering kiss to the base of your throat, his lips warm and soft against your sweat-dampened skin. His breath fanned over your collarbone as he slowly and carefully lowered you to your feet. Your knees nearly buckled when they touched the earth, your legs trembling with exhaustion. A startled gasp left you as you clung to him for support, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Easy, sweetpea,” he murmured, a quiet chuckle rumbling in his chest as he steadied you, one strong arm wrapping around your waist. His touch was grounding and reassuring, though the heat in his gaze told you he wasn’t entirely done with you yet.

You huffed a breathless laugh, tilting your head to look at him.

“You know we have to go to the dance now, right?” Though amusement laced your tone, you could already picture the knowing smirks Yelena and the others would shoot you when you finally emerged.

Bucky smirked, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Even better,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “All I’ll be able to think about is those little noises you make... and that mess between your legs.”

Your breath hitched, a shiver rolling down your spine despite the lingering warmth in your limbs. You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your belly once more at the thought of his hands on you again, the way he had unravelled you so easily.

He tilted your chin up with a single finger, pressing a teasing kiss to your lips before stepping back slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Come on, sweetpea,” he murmured, his eyes flickering with mischief as he laced his fingers with yours. “Let’s go dance.”

—

By the time you and Bucky arrived, the festival was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced cider, and the smoky tang of bonfires. Laughter and music filled the clearing, the rhythmic beat of drums and the sweet hum of strings carrying through the night. Couples swayed to the music, feet shuffling against the packed earth as villagers danced in loose circles, the warmth of drink and celebration evident in every movement.

You barely had time to take it all in before a chorus of knowing smirks and raised brows greeted your arrival. Yelena, seated at a long wooden table with a tankard of something strong in hand, nearly choked on her drink when she spotted you—your slightly dishevelled hair, the flush still clinging to your skin, and Bucky’s possessive grip on your waist.

“About time,” she called with a grin, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Did you get lost?”

Bucky, unbothered, merely smirked and tugged you towards the dancing. “Something like that.”

You shot her a look, but it was impossible to ignore the amused glances and hushed whispers behind you. You tried not to think about the wet mess—a combination of both your fluids nesting between your thighs. Bucky had offered you a handkerchief to clean up, but the small square of fabric had done little against the wetness dripping down your thigh. What didn’t help was the thought of that handkerchief he casually tucked back into his pocket before you could protest. Your lips parted, ready with some half-hearted excuse, but Bucky spun you into his arms before you could respond.

The moment he pulled you into the dance, the rest of the festival seemed to fade into the background. His hands found your waist, guiding you through the steps with ease, music thrumming beneath your skin. Everything was intoxicating, with the warmth of his palm against the small of your back and the gentle pressure of his fingers as he led you.

His lips dipped close to your ear as you moved, swaying to the rhythm. “So, who is this Leif guy?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then sighed, your fingers tightening slightly against his shoulder. “Oh—just… my last Springbond.”

The words felt foreign on your tongue now, distant. “It didn’t really work out in the end.”

Bucky hummed, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles over your hip. “Why not? Sounded like you lasted longer than a week.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, tilting your head back slightly to meet his gaze.

“Well… we just had different paths. He wanted to explore, adventure, sleep around…” You trailed off, gaze flickering to the firelight dancing in his blue eyes. “I was looking to settle. I’m just tired after everything. I feel you would understand that.”

His grip on you tightened ever so slightly, his gaze dark and steady as he murmured, “I understand you completely, angel.”

Something in the way he said it made your chest ache, warmth curling in your stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the fire or the wine or the exhilaration of the chase. He understood.

You held his gaze, the firelight dancing over his face. There was something ancient in his eyes, something heavy, worn by time and battle. You had known, of course, what he and Steve were before they arrived in New Fernwick—everyone did.

And yet, when the war ended, when the Riftborn were vanquished and peace finally settled over the world, they had simply walked away. But peace was a fickle thing, and you often wondered if it had truly found them in return.

Bucky’s fingers flexed against your waist, grounding you back in the present.

“You ever think about it?” you asked softly.

He tilted his head slightly, the movement curious. “Think about what?”

You hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “The way things used to be. Before.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t look away.

“Sometimes.” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “I don’t miss it. But it’s hard to let go of something that shaped you.”

You nodded, understanding. The past had a way of clinging to people, no matter how far they ran.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Steve took to peace like it was always meant for him. I think he’s been waiting for it his whole life. Me…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a faint line. “I think I’m still figuring it out.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. He deserved peace just as much as anyone else.

As the music slowed, your hands slid from his shoulders, fingers tracing the length of his arms before settling over his. His grip tightened instinctively like he knew what you were about to say.

“Come home with me.” The words were quiet, tentative, but certain.

Bucky stilled for half a beat, and then his lips parted, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No doubt. Just certainty, as if he had been waiting for you to ask.

—

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, stepping inside with Bucky close behind you. You moved awkwardly through the space, glancing at the walls, the furniture, anything but him, as though it could distract from the knot forming in your stomach. The house felt both too small and too big now, the empty rooms amplifying the tension in the air.

Bucky stepped in after you, his boots echoing softly on the wooden floor as he glanced around. His gaze lingered on the fire's warm glow in the hearth, he seemed at ease. His eyes scanned every corner of the space, taking in the simple comforts of home. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

You shifted nervously, breaking the silence with an anxious laugh. “You don’t actually have to do the full week if you don’t want to... I mean, most people just use it as an excuse to get off work—” Your words stumbled out, and you cut yourself off, realising how ridiculous you probably sounded.

Bucky turned toward you, his eyes dark with amusement but softened with something else, a quiet intensity. He was silent for a long moment, focusing entirely on you. Finally, his lips quirked up, and his voice was low and deliberate.

“Sweetpea, I love the sound of your beautiful voice, but just shut up... and kiss me.”

Before you could respond, his hands were already pulling you close, his mouth slanting over yours in a searing kiss that left no room for hesitation. You melted against him, your body pressing into his with a soft urgency, both of you stumbling as you navigated the space towards the bed. His grip on you was firm and reassuring, yet there was a rawness to it, an unspoken need that made your heart race faster.

You fumbled through the room together, bumping into furniture. Your hands sought purchase on his broad chest or tangled in his hair as you kissed desperately, blindly. The dim light from the hearth barely illuminated the path ahead. His lips were warm and hungry, pulling at yours with an intensity that made your pulse spike.

There was a quiet reassurance in how his hands roamed over your body, the steady pressure of his touch as though he wanted to anchor you in the here and now. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t treating this like a fleeting moment. You laughed softly against his lips as you stumbled into the bed, falling together in a tangled heap of limbs and tangled sheets. For a moment, all that mattered was the warmth of his skin against yours, the unspoken understanding that this was something different, something real.

Something that could last.

852 notes · View notes