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kassandras-one-braincell · 2 years

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Eivor x Fem!Reader - Forced Penance

Summary: Eivor is enraged upon witnessing you, a young sapphic woman forced to repent for her “sin” by her town, brainwashed into believing it was egregious to love another woman. She makes it her mission to dissuade you from your perspective, learning that you lack both experience and knowledge in the more pleasurable aspects of life. Some of her tales have you waking up in cold sweat, and you find yourself torn between the faith you were taught and indulging in the warrior’s teachings. [explicit]

A necessary disclaimer: I'm not religious, but I have read both the King James Bible and the (translated) Qur'an. I set out writing this fic with the intention of handling the subject of religion and extremism with appropriate sensitivity, keeping things as historically accurate as possible while tackling the important theme of internalised homophobia brought on by indoctrination. The reader is portrayed as Christian (the dominant Saxon faith) of an unspecified denomination, but the initial perspective they possess is far from healthy, and certainly doesn't reflect the benevolence of the faith.

If religious trauma is something prevalent in your life, I would read this at your own discretion.

(The second half, I'd like to add, was written in one fat block between 5pm and 6am without a wink of sleep and a multitude of distractions, about four months after I started writing the first half. There may be an issue with continuity, for which I apologise.)

Word count: 7429

AO3 link here. Minors DNI.

Eivor had only ever loved the fairer sex.

It was never something she had been taught to be ashamed of. Women were softer, with tender hearts and beautiful spirits; the notion that loving them as another woman was a repugnance in the eyes of Saxons was baffling. While she had always respected people for their faiths, she could never eye a doctrine that deems her love for women as a sin with anything but scorn. So she silenced her heart, as severely as it ached, to avoid offending the English nobles in her quest for allegiance.

The moment she learned that women as herself were shunned into forced penance by the church for their love, her heart not only ached but seethed. For a congregation whose foremost rule was to “love thy neighbour” to shame people for their love seemed too cruel an irony. Alas, she bit her tongue as she met with lords in the houses of their God, despite every fibre of her being screaming at her to burn the blasted books sitting atop the churches’ lecterns. Or Leviticus, at the very least.

Still, the Saxon principle of sapphic love being a sin often made her wonder just how satisfying it would be to plow a devout maiden within the holy walls of a church. Eivor would never allow herself to kneel in a House of God, unless, of course, to worship a sweet virginal lady with her mouth as she wildly ground against her tongue, flooding her tastebuds with nectar as the darling little thing shook, wailed, palm splayed behind her against the stained glass window with the other hand gripping her hair—

“—here when her men have been eradicated. Any objections, Eivor?” The words of the town’s reverend sliced through her fantasy. Eivor coughed quietly, knowing full well she hadn’t been listening to a word he had said.

“Apologies, reverend, I was beside myself with thought. Could you repeat that?” she smiled, internally wincing at the holy man’s sigh of annoyance.

“I said, if the Sickle’s men could be…disposed of,” hushed, that part – wouldn’t want to advocate the breaking of the Ten Commandments under God’s roof, Eivor thought – as the reverend scanned for eavesdroppers, “as cleanly as possible, it would weaken her influence and allow for us to strike her with greater ease. Meet me here when the deed is done.”

Eivor nodded, allowing her eyes to drift back towards the object of her distraction: the maiden sat in prayer at the front of the church, clutching a rosary between her dainty hands with a veil of purity concealing her hair. Softly and shakily – with uncertainty – muttering, “—shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination. Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind…”

Frowning, Eivor turned back to the reverend, cocking her head at the praying maiden. “She has been repeating that for some minutes now. Is she quite alright?” she asked in concern.

He wrinkled his nose, head shaking solemnly. “That woman is greatly disturbed. The town suspects her of being of an ungodly persuasion, and so she repents, lest the consequences be dire.”

Eivor’s eyes widened in shock. “Repenting for a sin she may have not committed? That hardly seems Christian, reverend.”

“She is beguiled by heathen thoughts, Eivor. It is wise for her to be cleansed of such thoughts before she acts upon them.”

“I’m sorry, these rumours are not of an action, but a thought?”

“Thoughts plagued by the sin of Sodom. We fear she holds abnormal affection for fellow women, and we would not want her to be denied Heaven. A closer connection with our heavenly Father might cure her of her affliction,” he explained, head held high.

Eivor huffed. “I will not ridicule a holy man with his God’s teachings inside his own place of worship, although I recall your saviour saying, ‘Judge not lest ye be judged’.”

The reverend glared at her, nostrils flared with indignation. “Do not insult me, Raven-feeder,” he warned. Thankfully, before she could brashly retort, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the church.

Whistling, she glanced around the holy building; the mother and her son who had been praying when she arrived had left at some point during her conversation with the reverend, leaving the pews empty, save for the repenting maiden. The only sounds resonating through the stone walls were the cooing of pigeons, the rattling of prayer beads and the biblical passage that made her grit her teeth.

Of course, Eivor bore no anger towards the lady fiddling with the rosary. Her sympathy for her heightened tenfold when a faint sniffle caught her attention. Realising her fist was clenched, she relaxed her fingers, softening her posture before making her way over towards the front pew.

- - - - - - - - -

By God, why did you have to cry? The reverend’s words were nothing compared to the spiteful, hate-filled curses of the townsfolk when the rumours of your affliction first surfaced. But he was a messenger of the Lord, and to receive His scorn would damn you for the life hereafter—

The pew creaked as a second weight sat down beside you. While your veil obscured your vision, you were almost certain it belonged to the Dane who spoke of death with the reverend barely moments ago. Swallowing the anxious lump in your throat, you grasped at the rosary in your hands tighter, opening your mouth to recommence your prayer.

“He’s gone, miss. You don’t have to keep reciting,” came the north-woman’s gravelly voice. The grip you had on the beads slackened just for a moment, but tightened once more as you scolded your weak-willed self. Only prayer will save you, you thought.

“It is rude to disturb a woman in prayer,” you squeaked, voice free of conviction.

The barbarian – Eivor, the reverend had called her – shifted beside you. “Devotion cannot be forced, and can you truly claim to pray without devotion?”

The beads shook with your fingertips. “I am devoted to our Lord in Heaven,” you managed through gritted teeth. “And He would not receive me if my head is ill.”

“That’s what they’re telling you, is it? That you’re sick in the head,” she tutted.

Frustration growing by the second, you angrily ripped off your veil, allowing the rosary to fall to the floor in the process. “I am sick,” you hissed at her, your own words cutting deeper than any knife could.

And you were. The reverend told you that your mind was diseased, and how could he be lying when the second you lay your eyes on the warrior beside you, your heart skipped a beat. Eivor was a rugged sort of beautiful, her skin littered with scars and ink and lightly kissed by the sun, her face sternly chiselled, jaw sharp and eyes sharper. You were sick to want to run your hands over her peculiar braid, to want to test the firmness of the muscle undoubtedly surrounding her broad frame.

“No, you aren’t,” she said, firmly, but not with anger. There was a sadness to her tone. Empathy; something you were disillusioned into thinking Danes were incapable of possessing.

Every fibre of your soul wanted to believe those words. You longed for their truth, but your mind knew better. This…savage’s words were sweet on the ears, but held no weight to God’s truth. As the scales of your heart struggled to balance, you brought your veil to your eyes, pleading internally that the whites of your eyes weren’t bloodshot enough to compromise your dignity as the cloth absorbed your tears.

“And I should take the words of a Dane over His holy book?” you frowned, hoping to muster a bitterness that fell flat.

“I know a few of its teachings, miss.” Eivor leaned forwards, resting her forearms on her knees. “Your god is loving of all, is he not?”

Without hesitation, you affirmed, “Of course.”

Eivor nodded, the devotion in your quip failing to present a surprise to her. Head hung in thought, she rung her hands together. You could see the quill in her brain hesitating as she tried to ink up an agreeable perspective.

“There is no benevolence,” she murmured after a pregnant pause, “in creating somebody with this ‘sin’ in their nature, only to punish them for it.” Her glacial eyes held a world of compassion as she spoke. “There is no evil in two women holding love for one another. Murder, rape, cruelty, those are evils. Not love.”

Breath quivering, you shook your head in denial. This pagan could not speak of good and evil.

No, this was but a trial. God had sent you temptation in the form of this dastardly, beautiful woman, with convincing words and kind eyes, to test your loyalty to Him! Yes, that must be it. You took a deep breath, battling the heat crawling across your cheeks and ears, and reached for the beads once more. “It is— It is against nature for two women to lie together. Lovemaking is for the creation of children—”

“Yet there are parts of a woman’s body that serve no purpose in procreation, but do so in lovemaking.”

Spluttering, you cast your eyes to the window to your left, hoping to hide your expression from the heathen beside you. “H-how would you know of such things?” you stammered. The words were so casual from her lips. Just how familiar was this pagan with debauching women against God’s will?

The heathen chuckled. “You’re a woman yourself. Are you that unfamiliar with your own body?” Gasping, you permitted yourself to glance in her direction. While her eyes were set on the lectern before her, there was a glimmer of mischief shining in her irises, as if she anticipated your reaction…as if she spoke to evoke said reaction.

“H-he that committeth fornication sinneth against his own body,” you recited quietly, heart thudding erratically against your chest.

She smirked.

To lie to one’s self in the presence of God was surely a sin as any other. So you were candid with yourself: the smirk on Eivor’s face made you feel warm all over, even if she mused about your innocence. But the reverend said that God would help you overcome your plight. Any moment now, He would intervene and rid you of this heat.

“Are you preaching to me or yourself?” she laughed. You gripped the rosary with nearly enough force to crack a bead or a knuckle. If this was His trial, you were determined to pass.

“Purity is something you could stand to learn,” you huffed, lungs light in your flustered state. Although her lack of regard for the virtue made her far more intriguing.

“Perhaps, but it sounds terribly boring.” Lips still curved in her amusement, she bent down and retrieved your veil from the floor, folding the fabric neatly and placing it in your lap. The coarse skin of her palm brushed against your hand, and your breath hitched in your throat. “I won’t disturb your prayer any longer, but please don’t punish yourself for the affection you hold.” She stood from the pew, headed for the door.

Shakily, you called out, “I shall pray for your soul as well as mine!”

Eivor held up her hand in dismissal. “No need. I’m proud of my sin.” Then, she was gone.

I gathered as much. Proud to live a life without sanctity. It was wrong, hedonistic…yet nothing she said sounded wrong.

Frowning, you glanced at the Bible atop the lectern. Its open pages mocked you for your confused mind, for your hesitance to find truth in God’s word. The veil now resting in your lap felt heavy, dirty, and the prayer beads hollow as if riddled with rot. Deciding your conscience was too impure to pray, you rose from your seat and fled the church, trying desperately to forget the image of the pagan’s face and the warmth between your legs.

- - - - - - - - -

God was supposed to guide you down a holier path, free from your heresy. Yet every night of the past week, you dreamt of braided flaxen hair, inked skin, blue eyes and rosy lips. You woke up in a sheen of sweat, damp heat taunting you from the junction of your thighs, the illusion of the north-woman’s gruff voice echoing in your mind. Lucifer whispered for you to touch yourself to the thought of her scarred lips caressing your neck. The nerves above the core from which came your monthly bleed almost throbbed, and you wondered if that’s what she meant by those words. Parts of a woman’s body that serve no purpose in procreation, but do so in lovemaking.

But you were a good Christian. You abode by your vows and ignored the devil’s wills, each and every night.

It was unbearable.

No woman had ever plagued your thoughts so indecently. She visited you each day in the church, taking the seat beside you, almost caging you in. What started as her attempting to understand your faith quickly became a cruel game: she would speak of nefarious deeds in the bedroom that set your cheeks aflame with bashfulness, asking which passages in the Bible prohibited them. You left the building with images floating about your mind that God would never approve of, and an ever-growing curiosity you feared only she could satiate.

Worst of all, Eivor would call you things a husband should only ever call his wife. Beautiful. Sweet. Darling. All with sincerity and a smile. Your better judgement told you to run to the reverend, begging for him to cast out the pagan who swore by her sin, but you never did, because her words never felt wrong.

Your change in attitude towards the warrior hadn’t gone unnoticed, though. Eivor was an observant woman. A fiendish spirit flickered within her soul whenever your eyes would linger on the stronger parts of her body as you conversed. It roared when you asked how two women could make love, and she delved into more elaborate detail than was necessary, watching as your eyes glazed over in wistful hypnosis, your thighs subtly pressing together. The image certainly spurred a more prurient fantasy in her head.

Most importantly, Eivor had helped you begin to realise that loving women was not a disease, even though the town cried otherwise.

“I suppose…there is no passage condemning women for being fond of one another, at least to my recollection,” you pondered on the seventh day after your initial meeting, veil and rosary in a neat pile on the end of the pew. Eivor smiled beside you, lessening the doubt in your heart.

“That is music to my ears,” she grinned.

“But—”

“Gods, don’t tell me there’s a ‘but’—”

“But,” you giggled at the exasperation on her face. The sound itself was enough to bring back her smile. “It is a sin to lust.”

Eivor rolled her eyes. “It is perfectly normal for people two desire one another, regardless of what that book says.”

“For a man to lust for his wife, yes. Otherwise—”

“Why would your God create people with the tools to lust, if it’s a sin to do so?”

“Because, it—” You stuttered, mind suddenly blank. A victorious smirk painted Eivor’s lips. Some peculiarly strangled sound escaped your throat. “To teach us self-discipline,” you frowned, the words coming out as a question.

“You’re talking out of your arse,” Eivor grinned.

Playfully smacking her arm, you gasped through a laugh, “By Christ, Eivor, mind your language!”

“All I’m saying is that it seems rather unfair to burden somebody with lust, only to say it’s a sin to relieve themselves of their lust.” Sighing, you folded your arms. There was reason to her words, as with most things she said, but to question His plan while sitting under the roof of a church felt…dangerous. Eivor’s impish expression faltered. She carefully took your hand, squeezing your palm. “Listen, no book written by man is infallible. You care for your god, and I’ve been told that he cares for his creations. I can’t see why he would condemn you to eternal suffering for something so natural,” she said softly.

A solemn smile tugged at your lips as her thumb rubs circles into the back of your hand. “Sometimes,” you began, taking a deep breath, “I struggle to tell whether He sent you to me, or Satan to misguide me. Your words are always wise, but they go against everything I’ve been taught, and you make me feel things that should be wrong.”

“What things, little dove?”

Dove.

Anxiously, you peered over your shoulder, conscious about onlookers. The church was empty, but sound carried well through the stone walls. Biting your lip, you looked up at Eivor. “Might we talk in the room behind the altar? We can speak freely there,” you asked. She nodded, standing with you in suit, hands still intertwined as you briskly guided her towards the room in question. You let out a long-held breath when Eivor closed the rickety door behind you.

“We shouldn’t be disturbed now,” she smiled.

“Good, because—” You nervously fiddled with the ends of your hair. “People wouldn’t respond kindly to what I have to say.”

“Go on,” she coaxed gently.

You inhaled deeply, hoping to calm your pounding heart. “Yesterday, you explained how women…make love.” Taboo, spilling from your mouth in a holy building. Your blood roared in your ears. “You made it sound so wonderful, and not at all abominable like the scripture says. I dreamt of you last night – well, every night this week, but last night…God, what am I saying?” Eivor didn’t want to hear this, you thought. Your lip quivered, tears pricking your eyes, as you feared you had ruined your relationship with the woman.

Unbeknownst to you, Eivor, however, was beyond ecstatic as your ramblings fell from your lips. Hearing you pause your thoughts in their tracks was torturous to the warrior. She wanted you to tell her every little detail of those dreams, how it felt to wake from them, and if you endeavoured to… No, you wouldn’t touch yourself, would you?

As her thoughts raced, you could have sworn her icy eyes darkened slightly. A mistake of the mind, surely, for Eivor brought your hand to her lips and dusted a chaste kiss across your knuckles. “Confide in me, darling. There’s no need to cry,” she murmured, wiping the stray tear that fell with her thumb. Her hand remained cradling your face, the curve of her palm fitting perfectly against your cheek.

Nodding slowly, you lowered your tone to a whisper. “In my dream, you kissed me. But there was nothing innocent about it, and I woke up this morning with such an ache between my—” Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but as your eyes met hers, you saw a hunger lurking within the woman. Sinister wouldn’t be the right word to describe the smile on Eivor’s lips. It was more predacious, like a wolf cornering an injured doe, listening intently to its final whimpers before devouring its prey. “I need to know what it feels like, Eivor,” you pleaded.

“Kissing, or everything else too?” Her voice was low and mesmerising. You found yourself confessing to her without a shred of shame.

“If only just the once, God, yes—”

“Have you kissed before?” Eivor asked, perching on the windowsill with a sultry smile, guiding you by the hand until you were stood beside her. Shaking your head, you went to occupy the space next to her when she pulled you onto her lap, cradling your waist with her arm. You elicited a gasp at the firmness of her torso. She gently caressed your jaw with her thumb, and your eyes fluttered closed.

“Follow what my lips are doing, love,” she muttered.

Before you could nod again, a soft warmth captured your lips, slowly gliding over the skin. You sighed, trying to map the motion in your mind, too anxious to kiss her back in fear of doing something awkward. Eivor could feel your mental struggle, murmuring against your lips, “Relax for me.”

Clearing your mind, you started with the gentlest pecks against her lips, tension melting from your shoulders when you felt them curve into a pleased smile. She was warm and comforting, unhurried and sweet; it didn’t take long for you to fall into a sensual rhythm with her. You reached up to touch her face, running your fingers along the gnarly scar cutting into her cheek, then down to cup her strong neck. The tendons flexed underneath your fingertips as she deepened the kiss. In tandem, you got a little bolder, hands exploring the sculpted muscle hidden underneath her tunic while she held you close. Her lips began to tug at yours, suckling softly on the flesh, drawing the faintest of moans from you. Ordinarily, you would have been mortified, but you had all but forgotten you were in a church. You could kiss her for an eternity and the afterlife thereafter, and you would never grow tired of it.

When Eivor broke the kiss and detangled her arms from you, your lungs were thankful, but your heart froze. Panic set in, thinking you had been too forward. Panting, you asked, “What did I do wrong, Eivor?”

She unclasped her fur cloak from her shoulders, folding the weighty garment into a roll, setting it down on the patch of windowsill behind you. “Nothing, darling. I just wouldn’t want you to hurt your head,” she chuckled. You breathed a ragged sigh of relief.

“You would tell me though, wouldn’t you? If I did anything wrong.”

Eivor delicately pecked your lips. “There is nothing for you to do wrong.” An arm settled once more around your waist, her other hand smoothing over the fabric of your skirt. “But should you find yourself uncomfortable, tell me. I will stop the moment you say the word.”

Resting your head on her broad shoulder felt natural. Safe. “I simply wish I wasn’t so nervous,” you muttered, toying with the hem of her tunic that grazed her clavicle. “I promise I’m eager, Eivor.”

You felt her stiffen at the words, and your stomach felt shallow. She closed her mouth, inhaling steadily, something tugging at the corners of her lips. With visible effort, she fought it off. “Perhaps,” she started, the fingers on your leg trailing from your thigh to your calf, “you should tell me more about your dreams.” Her tongue darted out to damp her lips. You couldn’t rip your eyes away from the sight even if God willed it. “Let me kiss you exactly how you imagined it,” she purred. “Maybe you’ll find some phantom familiarity.”

There it was again. That incessant warmth, taunting you from between your legs. With every gravelly syllable, the heat throbbed, faintly quelled by pressing your thighs together but not enough.

A dozen different fantasies raced through your mind in an exhilarating blur, each with Eivor’s lips pressed salaciously against different patches of skin, her formidable frame pinning you against a plethora of surfaces, handling you with roughness, as a Dane would. You struggled to find words to encompass them.

“You would have me against a wall, or…” Images flooded back. A bed. A desk. The floor. “Wherever you wanted. I was yours to handle as you pleased,” you confessed quietly. “And it all felt so wonderful, except for that unbearable ache. I wouldn’t know how to describe it.”

Eivor’s brow upturned, almost pitifully, as her lips curved into an alluring smirk. “Of course you wouldn’t, sweetling,” she chuckled. Gently, she leaned forward with a hand hooked under your knee, lowering you until your head softly met her bundled-up cloak. She hovered over you, arms braced either side of your head. A knee found purchase between your thighs. “Am I somewhat on the mark?” she asked.

“Are your knees alright?” you squeaked, eyes flickering to where they met the stone of the windowsill.

Eivor light-heartedly rolled her eyes. Instead of answering, she tilted your chin with her hand as her thumb caressed your lower lip. The knee positioned between your legs slowly rocked forward, snugly pressing into your core. That dull ache momentarily alleviated, making you gasp, before returning stronger than before, only…sweeter, somehow. Instinct told you to roll your hips against the thick muscle of her thigh; your stomach twitched at the thought.

“Did you ever feel that in your dreams, dove?” she muttered, fiendish curiosity swirling in her dark eyes.

“No,” you half-whispered, half-whimpered. “That felt…”

She repeated the motion, firmer this time, the friction lingering just a second longer – long enough to elicit a strangled sound from the back of your throat. This time, you couldn’t resist the impulse to grind down against her. You felt wetness between your thighs, but were too consumed by desperation and fleeting pleasure to care.

Eivor leaned down, sealing the gap between your lips, swallowing the breathy moans that escaped you with voracity as you rocked against her. Her knee chased the junction between your hips, ebbing and flowing like the tide. Eagerly, you returned the kiss, hands moving to explore the broad, muscular expanse of the warrior’s back.

“Why does this sin feel so good?” you panted, breaking away as your lungs cried for breath.

“Because it’s not a sin,” Eivor murmured, working a trail of kisses into your skin from your mouth to your jaw before burying her face in your neck, her lips latching onto the first patch of skin they met. “It’s beautiful,” she rasped.

She suckled on the sensitive flesh, smiling wickedly as you arched your neck. She raked her teeth across your skin, pressing a dizzying map of hot, wet kisses onto every spot that evoked a tell-tale stuttered breath from you. You were overwhelmed by two different shades of bliss, unable to do anything but weave your fingers through Eivor’s flaxen locks and melt as the incessant aching of your core grew ferocious.

“Then why,” you moaned as her thumb grazed over your nipple through your dress, “am I feeling such a tenderness? Is this not my body punishing me?”

“Your body wants relief,” she rumbled into your neck. She rolled the peak of your breast between her fingertips, making the bud tingle sweetly even through the fabric of your clothing. “Part of me wants to wait until there’s a bed beneath us, so I can rid you of your clothes and devour every inch of you, to bring you that relief,” she avowed, dark, devilish, against the flesh. “But, more than anything, I want to give your god a show, and give you a taste of the heaven you speak of so fondly while he watches.”

The Eivor who respectfully debated your faith with you was gone. This woman was a demon starved, possessed by the need to corrupt the worldview of the maiden caged beneath her. God may have frowned upon your lack of will; He may have denied you a place in paradise the second you allowed your lips to touch.

Heaven be damned, you needed everything this heathen promised you.

“How does relief feel?” you whispered. Eivor bit back a groan at the dichotomy of your innocence and wanton interest.

She pressed one final kiss to your neck before lifting herself, lust-clouded eyes staring deep into yours. The warrior’s cheeks were ever so slightly pink, lips gorgeously kiss-bruised. “May I show you?” she asked. You could have sworn it a plea.

You nodded with urgency. “I’m yours, Eivor.”

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” she cooed, smiling with satisfaction at your immediate compliance. The time for shame had passed; you were yearning.

With your knees bent either side of her frame, there was a vulnerability aloft in your mind, but Eivor was doting, tentative. Your comfort came before her cravings, if the pillow she fabricated was testament to anything. She may have been dangerous, but you felt safe in her care.

A hand meandered up over the curves of your body. The modest silhouette of your frock did nothing to conceal your shape as her fingers roamed, before they finally rested on your lips, delivering two feather-light taps to the plump flesh.

“Will you take my fingers in your mouth, darling? I want this to be as pleasant as possible for you,” she murmured.

It wasn’t necessary, of course – you could feel the slick of your arousal through your undercloth. But you wanted to be good for her. To hear her praise you, just to hear her call you sweet again. You parted your lips impulsively, drawing her fingers in as far as their length would permit without a word. A lewd instinct drove you to swirl your tongue around her digits and hollow your cheeks, coating them thoroughly with your spit. “Gods, you’re perfect,” Eivor groaned at your obedience. Wetness seeped from your quim at the words.

Gently, she eased them from your lips, admiring the sheen. She gazed down at you adoringly. “Beauty like yours should never have to wither away in forced penance,” she muttered. Your heart fluttered; perhaps this was the same Eivor who coaxed you from your punitive prayer after all.

Slowly, she snaked her hand underneath your frock, the side of her palm smoothing over your bare thighs before she reaches the junction between them. Eivor sucked in a sharp breath at the wetness she was met by.

“You poor, sweet thing,” she chuckled, delving her fingers between your folds, slickening them further with your honey. The pressure was pleasant, although it did nothing to appease the hunger burning inside you.

But then, she dragged upwards, until her fingertips met a pebble of nerves hidden above your quim. She rubbed a tiny circle into that spot, and for a fleeting second, the ache dissipated, replaced by the purest pleasure she had fed you so far. A breathy “oh” flew from your lips before you could stifle it.

Eivor smirked and set a hasteless pace, fingertips languidly circling the nerves. “How does that feel?” she purred.

Her ministrations melted into a steady stream of bliss, turning your bones to syrup and your throat to a lyre, producing melodious sounds for the blonde to marvel at. Warmth consumed your veins. Your skin prickled with delight. Your hips gyrated naturally into her hand, silently begging for more of her touch. It felt incredible, a pleasure that transcended anything you could describe.

“Good,” you managed – slurred, more aptly – whining as Eivor began to massage the bead between her fingers, stealing away your ability to think. “Oh, God—”

“So responsive,” she hummed in a tone teetering on the boundary between observant and mocking. She had every right to assume the latter stance: within moments, she had reduced you from a devout virginal woman of faith to a moaning mess within the walls of a church.

The blinding rhythm of her fingers stirred something far deeper within you. Something both palpable and intangible at the same time. A tightening, almost, in the pit of your core, growing more intense with each methodical circle Eivor rubbed into those nerves. The pitch of each breathy moan bleeding from your lips heightened, air leaving your lungs in pants.

“Eivor, t-that’s too good,” you stammered, grasping at the hand braced beside your head, half-lidded eyes searching for hers.

She hushed you, her cerulean irises glossed over, intoxicated by your rapture. “Focus on my hand and your body,” she softly commanded, keeping her tempo, infatuated by the shallow rising and falling of your chest.

Your eyes fluttered shut, neck arching back into the bundled cloak beneath you. Brow knitted in concentration, you pursued the peculiar yet euphoric tightening. Swiftly, you found yourself drowning in the heavenly sensation brought by the warrior’s attentions. “God, I—”

“That’s it, come for me,” Eivor cooed, never stopping.

The coil snapped.

Wanton blasphemies rolled off your tongue as the precipice of your pleasure devoured you alive, engulfing your skin in white-hot flame. Toes curling, legs trembling, hips bucking wildly, you cried out the name of the heathen who ravaged you, choking back a sob as she continued to toy with your bud through your peak. Her praises blurred together, all the ‘goods’ and ‘sweets’ and ‘beautifuls’ echoing in your mind in a gruff symphony.

As the intensity faded, you were suspended in a hazy warmth. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you managed to keep them open, watching as Eivor stared at you like an idol.

“Doesn’t that feel so much better?” she whispered, leaning down to kiss your temple as you nodded languorously.

“Thank you,” you breathed out.

In no hurry, your senses came about you with clarity once more. You began to ponder how Eivor would clean her hand: her trousers, in crude fashion, or perhaps she carried a handkerchief…

You never anticipated her bringing her drenched fingers to her lips, tongue curling around the digits doused in your essence. Mouth agape, you stared as she savoured your taste, helpless to the reignition of heat in your quim. An astonished croak was strangled in your throat.

She noticed your flustered, shocked state and smirked. “Your god wouldn’t bless you with such a delectable flavour if you weren’t meant to be tasted, now, would he?”

Of all the sinful nothings the woman had said in the week past, you were certain this would be the thing to kill you.

Eivor studied your thighs as they bowed inwards, pressing together to battle off the arousal creeping up on you once again. “Have I completely tired you, my dove?” she asked, languidly stroking your legs beneath your dress. You could see a nefarious plot weaving together in her mind, the outcome of which you found yourself craving.

“I don’t think so,” you murmured.

“Good,” she hummed, “because I can’t bring myself to wait to get my mouth on that sweet cunt of yours.” She paused, restraining herself. “If you’d allow me, of course.”

“Are you positive?” You gnawed on your bottom lip.

She grinned. “I find it one of life’s greatest pleasures, darling.”

There was enough confidence in her tone to convince you she was well acquainted with the act. She had described it once before, a few days ago, in enough detail to make your face burn with bashfulness. Back then, you hid your face in your hands, gasping at the debauchery of such an act. At the present, however, it had an appeal; the pulsing between your legs agreed.

You released your lower lip from your teeth. “In that case, will you help me remove my, uhm…” you faltered off, glancing down at your hips.

“Of course,” she chuckled, coaxing your hips off the sill, allowing her to shimmy your undercloth from its grip on your hips. The stain of your desire clung to the cloth, and you had to avert your eyes. “You’re still so shy, even after I brought you to peak?” Eivor mused. Before you could chastise her, she leant forwards, placing the cloth beside her and pressing her lips to a little patch of skin that had you half mewling for her earlier, mapped firmly into her memory. The scold left your lips in a heartbeat.

As she dotted light kisses and nips across your neck, she made an attempt to situate herself further down your frame, until her heavy boot collided with the stone wall. With a disgruntled huff, Eivor leered at the windowsill. She sat up between your legs, analysing your position on the stone. “Something tells me that church windowsills weren’t designed for plowing,” she grumbled.

Her candid frustration made you giggle as you propped yourself up with your elbows. The mild malcontent on her face melted at the sound, replaced with a smile at your bemusement. Beaming, she eased herself off the windowsill, opting to kneel on the floor instead. Without warning, she spun you in her direction. You laughed gleefully, and her smile widened in delight.

“Are you sure your knees are alright?” you jested, trying to stifle your grin. “You’re not able to pull that stunt this time,” you tittered, heart skipping a beat as you reflected on how her knee felt pressed against your heat.

Eivor traced her canine with her tongue, promptly reminding you of the pounding between your thighs. “I have other tricks up my sleeve,” she smirked, positioning your legs so they sat on her broad shoulders. She hiked up the front of your dress until it pooled in your lap, exposing your bare quim to her ravenous gaze.

“And what tricks are th-ose—”

With hands hooked around your thighs, she flattened her tongue against your dewy folds, the tip teasing at your entrance, before licking a flat line upwards. The strength, the warmth of her muscle was unlike that of her fingers – the pleasure it brought was rawer. Primal. And the moan, God, the moan, she relinquished reverberated through your flesh, enthralling your mind.

She first lapped up the remnants of your previous peak. Her tongue gently pushed into you, her nose nudging against the especially sensitive nerves hidden between the very top of your folds. You gasped, hips attempting to squirm away from her onslaught, but her grip was firm, leaving you wholly at her mercy.

Eivor knew that you needed more before you did. Experience told her that you were confused in your oversensitivity, struggling to determine whether it was uncomfortable or pleasurable, and that with a little push you’d be spiralling into ecstasy once more. So she broke away, allowing herself a breath of air, and repositioned her lips above your pearl. She allowed her spit to drip onto the nerves, momentarily soothing them before honing in on her target.

The sensation of her lips closing around the hood guarding the bundle of nerves had your head thudding back against the stained glass window behind you: a beautiful piece of art depicting Lucifer’s fall from grace. The irony was lost on you, however, as you cried out into the church, a hand flying to her head. Your nails lightly raked across her scarred scalp before you threaded your fingers through her hair, gripping a little tighter than you intended, not that Eivor minded. She groaned, sucking delicately on the hood.

“Fuck!” you moaned, feeling yourself throb against her tongue, unable to stop your heels from digging into her back.

Eivor redoubled her efforts, flicking her tongue in some sinister fashion to assault your pearl furthermore. Voracious and unrelenting, she worked you to the brink of madness with her lips. Barely a minute had passed before euphoria drew nigh. Torn between craving the feeling of another peak, but wishing this almost brutal pleasure would last an eternity, you could do nothing but mewl and clutch onto the warrior’s hair as she decided your fate.

You had to cover your mouth as something of a scream threatened to spill from your parted lips. One more suck was all it took for you to crumble, shuddering into her grip, bucking against her mouth. “Eivor—” you sobbed, eyes rolling back as she continued to fuck you with her mouth, her name resounding through your disoriented mind in a sacrilegious prayer. She grunted, watching as you shook in her hold, only pulling back when tears began to prick the corners of your eyes.

Panting, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and kissed your inner thighs, caressing where her hands could reach as tranquillity began to wash over you. “I’ve got you, sweetling,” she rasped, peppering your trembling legs with the most delicate pecks.

She rose from her knees and picked you up with her, strong arms encircling you as she sat herself back on the windowsill with you in tow. Her large hands coaxed a foggy afterglow into your skin. Eivor pressed her lips to the top of your head while she smoothed over you hair, whispering, “You were so wonderful for me.”

The church was silent, save for the calming of your pounding heart. It remained as such while you basked in the warmth of the woman who offered you a new light with which to regard the world. You were safe. God hadn’t struck you dead for indulging in what the reverend denoted Sodom. No bolt came from the sky, no hellfire erupted around your body, none of His divine wrath came to your reckoning.

Eivor was right, after all. A love for fellow women was nothing to be ashamed of, certainly not when making love was a thing of beauty.

Said heathen – not that you were entirely convince the term still applied – sat and relished in your steady breathing, curling the ends of your hair between her fingertips. Gently, she squeezed your shoulder. “Are you with me, love?” she asked.

Blinking your eyes open, you nodded into her shoulder. “Sorry, Eivor.”

She laughed softly. “There’s nothing to apologise for. I just wanted to know if you’re alright,” she smiled.

Boneless. That was a word, and it certainly described you in that moment. But there was a lingering question pertaining to the warrior who had utterly subverted your worldview:

What now?

Eivor had come to your town with purpose; one she had either already fulfilled, or was drawing close to fulfilling. Compared to that, you were surely inconsequential.

Your heart ached at the thought of being a conquest. Another notch in her belt, that she’d forget about within the month after leaving for whence she came, only to find another virginal woman in your predicament in the next Scire. At best, you’d continue to be shunned by the townsfolk, forced to kneel in reluctant prayer by the reverend until you, as Eivor had aptly worded it, withered away. Had anyone discovered today’s escapade, you’d surely be facing a fiery death against a stake.

It was a painful revelation, that this week was likely your only reprieve from a miserable life.

“Talk to me, darling. I can feel something’s wrong,” Eivor murmured.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You squinted in a futile attempt to stop them. “When you leave,” you croaked, “I’ll spend the rest of my life thinking about how happy I could be, if I was allowed to be honest with myself.” You felt her breath still in her throat. “But I don’t have that luxury.” A drop fell from your eye to your cheek. “I’m the town’s pariah.”

Her thumb caught the trickling teardrop. “How much has the reverend taken from you?” she whispered.

“Too much,” you sobbed. “Far too much, Eivor. By Christ, my own family won’t speak to me.”

“Then come back with me to Ravensthorpe,” she murmured. “Find a new family amongst my clan. Be your uninhibited self.” Eivor kissed the top of your head. “I couldn’t live with myself without offering you a chance to be free from all this.”

“Can you earnestly say you’d have offered this, had I kept my mouth shut?” you asked, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Yes.”

God, lend me your wisdom, should this be deception to the ears—

“I doubt I’d be able to forget you if I tried, love,” she confided, reaching for your hand. “I’ve seen – I’ve felt – your soul, radiant as a summer’s day. You deserve to fall asleep warmed by furs and a hearth, to wake in a bed cushioned by something other than straw, to be fed berries in the morning and, by the gods, to live in a place where sin refers to atrocities and atrocities alone.” The tears now streamed steadily down your cheeks. “And I want to give you this and more.”

Hiccupping, you forced a small laugh. “I doubt I’d be a boon to your town.”

Eivor smiled, caressing the back of your hand. “I’m not convinced of that,” she assured you. “You mentioned you used to teach the town’s children to read and count, right?”

“Aye, before the reverend deemed me perverse.”

“Well, three children come to mind who could certainly use some schooling, to keep them occupied if nothing else,” she grinned.

“Oh?” Her smile was contagious, a mirrored expression fighting its way onto your lips.

“We can leave this afternoon, if you’d like,” she offered. “It’ll be a couple of days on horseback, but believe me, I have enough tales about the little shits to fill a week.” Her wink ripped a spluttered laugh from you.

Perhaps this woman is one of His blessings after all.

#eivor #lady eivor #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #eivor varinsdóttir #lady eivor x reader #smut

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rarestdoll · 2 years

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MASTERLIST

key: 🧁 = smut, 🍦= fluff, 🎀 = angst, 🐚 = songfic, 🫧 = rambles, 🛼 = requests

THE LAST OF US

ellie williams

pillow talk 🧁🍦: “falling asleep in the same bed w ur best friend ellie is never a problem… until it is.”

LOVERS ROCK 🧁🐚: “u and ellie have been teetering on the edge of friends and lovers for awhile now and finally u decide to make the first move.”

STONER!ellie 🫧

headcanons 🧁

abby anderson

headcanons 🧁

i got u 🧁🛼: “u and abby finally have the morning and abby finds more than enough ways for u guys to make up ur missed time together.”

fall into u 🍦🎀🐚: “after sharing a near death experience with u, abby finds herself feeling like she’s almost lost everything she loves once again. u help her see that ur still right by her side.” (soon to be posted ♡)

ARCANE

sevika

cloud nine 🧁: “it’s simple, sevika loves fucking u with her favorite purple strap.” (in progress ♡)

love is a (winning) losing game 🐚: “when the usual bands main vocalist doesn’t show for tonight’s performance at the last drop, u decide take the chance to save the performance while also managing to catch a certain someone’s eye.”

grayson

to be continued…

ASSASSIN’S CREED

eivor “wolfkissed” varinsdottir

to be continued…

kassandra (the eagle bearer)

to be continued…

MARVEL

carol danvers

to be continued…

yelena belova

to be continued…

DEAD BY DAYLIGHT

anna the huntress

to be continued…

#♡ navigation #masterlist #the last of us #arcane #assassin's creed valhalla #assassin's creed odyssey #marvel #dead by deadlight #ellie x reader #abby x reader #sevika x reader #grayson arcane x reader #f!eivor x reader #carol danvers x reader #yelena belova x reader #the huntress x reader

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sweetmeldies · 1 year

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modern!eivor is either from the mother land of Norway or Minnesota/North Dakota

#as someone who is norwegen and from one of those places #you can’t tell me this isn’t true #ac eivor #ac valhalla #m!eivor #f!eivor x reader #f!eivor #assassin's creed #assassins creed eivor

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just-a-dumb-gay · 2 years

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LOOK AT MY WIFE!!!

I am absolutely gonna be playing with photomode to try and match pictures to whatever x reader fics I come up with

#eivor x reader #f!eivor #f!eivor x reader #assassin's creed valhalla #eivor varinsdóttir

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greenaway-torres · 6 months

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The way I act up on purpose so that they can put me in my place, which is on my knees in front of them. I want to be teased and broken down and brat tamed. They’ll kiss me through my whimpers just to make me more of an incoherent mess . They don’t care how ridiculous I sound, it only makes them want to keep going.

“Stop running, princess. This is what you wanted right? You can take it. Don’t keep crying like that. You know it only turns me on more.”

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neon-junkie · 8 months

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OMFG ITS A WIN FOR THE FUCKING GAYS!! ONCE AGAIN!! If you want to do any requests for fem eivor I’d love your takes on her kinks/ general sex headcanons you may have ❤️❤️

Hell yes!!! I started being down bad for fem!Eivor the second I began playing as her. She's just so... *clenches fist*

I don't see Eivor as being the type to go wild when it comes to kinks. She's definitely not vanilla, but not extremely taboo either.

Outdoor sex is an obvious one, given that she spends 90% of her time out in the wilderness, and fucking in the longhouse isn't as private as she wants it to be.

Nothing beats lounging around in a meadow, cuddling in a bed of flowers, watching the clouds drift overhead as Eivor holds you in her arms.

She's a switch. Always happy to take the ropes, or submit to you. It's your call, really.

There are times when she needs you to care for her, such as after a devastating loss in battle.

And other times when she needs to be in charge, fuelled by the adrenaline from a bloody victory.

Eivor is a giver. She's going to go down on you, drawing orgasm after orgasm until you're literally having to peel her off you.

"You want me to stop? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't continue picking you apart, using my tongue alone."

Over-stimulation? Yeah, you better get used to it. Eivor isn't going to stop when your thighs are shaking around her head. She wants to see you utterly debauched.

And if you try to give her the same treatment? Good luck. She's a strong woman who will literally pick you up and throw you around like a rag doll. That is, if you want it.

"You're so adorable when you try to boss me about. You seem to forget which one of us is taking charge tonight. Here, let me remind you..."

Skin contact is appreciated, but not essential. There's something feral about having Eivor pin you down whilst she's still in her full gear, blood stained and all.

However, when Eivor wants to be tender and romantic, then the clothes are coming off!

A little bit of bondage may enter your sex life. Nothing too wild, just your wrists tied together, or a makeshift gag whenever you're being too loud.

Eivor isn't going to go out of her way to introduce toys. Why bother? Her fingers and mouth work perfectly fine. But if you suggest it, then Eivor will listen, although she knows they will never compete with her skills.

After care is very essential to Eivor. Nothing beats a kiss and a cuddle, no matter if you're out in the wilderness, or cooped up in a bed of furs.

Expect a few courting braids to be in your hair once Eivor is done with you. It's a key part of her after care routine.

#acwriting #assassins creed valhalla #assassins creed #eivor #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #eivor x reader #fem!eivor x reader #eivor wolfkissed x reader #reader insert #AC valhalla #f!reader #smut

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eivorsjawline · 1 year

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Hi, everyone!

I’m posting to let you know I have created my very own Eivor character ai bot. She seems to be running pretty well, click here to test the Eivor bot out.

(the bot still needs to be trained so some replies may be off, the more people that chat with it the more accurate it can be. swipe right on a message to generate a new one from the ai. be sure to rate the replies 1-4 stars depending on how good the replies are!)

I also have a Kassandra bot! Click here. I’m very impressed with how she’s turning out!

Happy chatting, hope you enjoy and much love! 💓

Update: I have made a new playlist to listen to while chatting, here!

#assassins creed #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #character ai #ai generated #f!eivor #assasinscreed #eivor x reader #fem!eivor

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sapphic-woes · 2 years

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Eivor x Fem!Reader - Merciful

A/N: So...first fic ever doing x reader, bear with me as I get the hang of this. In this, Eivor is injured and comes across a nun who helps her out. Minors DNI.

Word count: 4k. AO3 link

_______

Mercy. It was a virtue that was usually praised. However, when it came to you many said it would be your downfall.

“You’re too nice, too caring, too understanding. That's why everyone always uses you.” You knew that. It was easy to tell when a kind smile masked ill intentions, and yet you could never bring yourself not to lend a helping hand. For that was the duty of a nun, wasn’t it?

“Ugh…lady…” As you dropped the bucket of water you’d fetched from the river, you soon realized there were some good deeds even you found difficult to do.

It was a dane, one bloody and bruised, dragging himself…herself, up out of the river. It was a struggle not to scream, she looked like the devil himself with her war paint running down her face and blue eyes focused on your startled form. Even in her plight, she still managed to notice your instinctive step back, and her glare in response–as if daring you to call the guards–making it feel like it would be pointless to try.

“Please…” Only the second time she spoke did you fully register her voice–both its peculiar ruggedness and the fact that she spoke English–sending a shiver down your spine. Clearly, she was asking for help. But to help a dane?

You weren’t a fool. You lived in an abbey, and heathens loved to attack them. It was a risk you gladly took to serve the Lord, and you had been prepared to face death by the hands of a dane since the moment you became a nun. Now you were facing a dane alright, yet somehow the Lord was testing you with her imminent death rather than your own.

Do I let her live, or leave her to die? The choices led to two grim realities. Her death within the hour, or the abbey’s potential massacre within a few weeks' time.

You prayed to the Lord that the if of the latter would never become a reality.

She was heavy, stinking of dirt and blood. By the time you decided to save her, she had already passed out, leaving you to somehow drag her body to a suitable area. Luckily, being the pushover of the abbey had some perks. In your desperation to find solitude, you’d stumbled across a cave not far from the river and used it to rest from time to time.

Once there, you huffed, laying her down on the dirt floor as gently as your sore arms could. Then you were off to fetch a new bucket of water and medical aid, explaining poorly to the reverend that you were simply nursing an injured baby calf stuck in the woods. He thought it was useless work–but work no one other than you would do–so he let you go, and with haste, you returned to the dane.

Once you entered the cave again, you set to work. The bleeding had to stop and to stop the bleeding the wound needed to be located. Oh, you thought with a nervous gulp, her top will have to be removed...

Heat crept over your cheeks, but quickly you shook your head. This may be a dane, but she was a woman nonetheless. A woman exactly like you. There was nothing to be shy about, and it was confusing that you even were. With a deep breath you took the knife you brought, murmuring apologies to the unconscious heathen before cutting through her thick clothing.

Immediately, you realized she was certainly a woman…but her body was definitely not like yours.

If there was one word to describe it, it was hardened. Trained. Muscles rippled as she breathed, and tiny scars decorated her waist and chest. There was ink too, terrifyingly beautiful designs that made your heart hammer and nervously breathe out. You’d heard from rumors that the tattoos meant horrible things, like tallies of how many saxons they’d killed. What if I become one too? Again, panic seized your heart, and you found yourself trembling as you studied the wound she’d suffered.

Luckily, it was something treatable. With great care not to wake her (though you weren’t sure if it was out of fear or genuine concern) you patched her up, checking to see if there was anything else. There was a slash at her right leg, and you patched that one up as well, finally moving to clean the dirt from the rest of her body. Gently, you dragged a cloth across her chiseled face, marveling at her sharp jaw and long, pretty lashes. Perhaps she had looked intimidating before, but fast asleep she was clearly a thing of beauty.

You liked her straight nose and her eyebrows that seemed to grimace even in her sleep. You wondered what she’d look like when she was wide awake and not glowering at you. You wondered if her voice really was that low–or if her long journey only to end up passing out in the river was the cause. You were curious, and before you knew it, you were hovering less than an inch above her face.

Lord above. You held back a squeak, scrambling back. That was rude! Impolite and…odd of you. Very odd. For a moment you tried to register why you’d done such a thing, but you came up with no answer. All you knew for certain was that you felt warm all over, tingly as you watched the woman’s chest rise and fall. Somehow, just watching her breath was mesmerizing. Was it the devil in her making you so curious? You didn’t know–but you did know that the reverend would be expecting you back soon.

In more of a frenzy than you’d like to admit, you gathered your things and left, cheeks aflame as you rushed to escape whatever trap satan intended to use the dane with.

_______

It took a week for her to wake again.

In those days, the routine was fairly simple. Every day you went out to fetch water you’d take the time for a detour. There you’d clean her wounds and redress her bandages, leave fresh water and stolen borrowed leftovers just in case she’d wake. For the past week, the food rotted, and dust settled over the water. Today was no different, at least, when you first entered the cave it wasn’t.

She was lying as she always did, and you moved quickly. You only had so much time before the reverend, or anyone else for that matter grew suspicious. Despite everyone needing you, they did little to respect you as a person, becoming more of a lapdog than anything. You set down the bucket of water with a huff, arching your back to crack it with a groan. Who knew being a nun would require so much labor?

“It’s already been a week…maybe it’s exhaustion?” You murmured as you walked up to the sleeping dane, hovering a hand over her face. She was breathing, and her breaths were stronger than when she was usually asleep, though still steadily rhythmic. That was a good sign, right? You bit your bottom lip with worry, turning away.

To transport her bandages and other medical supplies, you tied them with rope in pouches to the side of your thighs, keeping them hidden under your long robe. At first, you felt ridiculous walking with them like that, but now it was like second nature. With little thought you hiked up your dress, untying the pouches carefully. That was when you glanced in front of you at the food you’d left before. A useless endeavor, but still you couldn’t help but check with hope…

…and see that it was all completely eaten.

You froze. One of the pouches you’d tried to quietly remove slipped from your hand. Glass jars full of healing salve shattered from within. You didn’t care.

No–you were more concerned with the eyes drilling into the back of your neck, trailing down the base of your spine…and finally, resting on your legs exposed to the chilly autumn air. You didn’t know whether to run or scream. You didn’t know if either choice mattered.

“Lady.” Her gruff voice made you jump, and suddenly you could move again. You spun on your heel, you scrambled back–two horrid decisions to make at once. Your balance abandoned you, and suddenly coarse skin gripped your hand, yanking you forward. You stumbled, letting out a startled cry as you fell onto your hands rather than your back.

You’d squeezed your eyes shut to brace for impact, but now as you tentatively fluttered them open, you didn’t recognize the bandages inches from your face. That is until they rocked up and down. An amused, albeit pained, voice rumbled from the depths of it.

“Lady, might you remove yourself from me?” Am I…staring at her chest? You moved faster than you ever had before, clambering off of the dane and then shuffling several feet back. She watched the entire display with a raised eyebrow, and her calmness in juxtaposition to your alarm only made you feel more embarrassed. You opened your mouth to speak, but the knot in your throat wouldn’t allow for more than another frightened noise. At that the heathen paused, shifting her gaze to think before focusing her gaze back on you.

“I…won’t hurt you. You saved my life, lady. It would have been easy to leave me there, or send out guards to end my suffering. Yet,” the dane waved her hand to the empty food and water, “you did all this instead. It would be foolish to repay my savior with violence, wouldn’t you think?” She was right, it would be foolish. However, you had been taught that danes were exactly that; tricked by the devil into wanting nothing but bloodshed. It would be foolish of you to immediately believe her words.

“T-thank you.” You tried to act as if you believed it, though from her frown she guessed you didn’t at all. You stayed frozen as she sighed, scratching the back of her head.

“I’m not saying that to be thanked. I’m just…telling you. Despite how you view me, you have helped me. For that I am grateful.” With that she attempted to rise, hissing out in pain. You gasped, stiffening with worry. She had just woken up or at least had in the last couple of hours. She had no business moving yet! Before you knew it you were on your feet, rushing over to stop her.

“Wait! Please don’t move, your wounds are still healing and you’ve just woken up. You must rest.” Regardless of how badly you trembled, you still spoke as firmly as you could. “You can’t do any harsh manual labor–like traveling to God knows where–until it’s safe!” That surprised the dane, eyebrows high on her face and mouth slightly agape. Slowly, her lips curved into a smirk, and she nodded, lying back down.

“You fear me, yet you give me orders?” Your cheeks reddened, and her sly smile widened. “Alright then, little lady…for a few days, I’ll rest my body for you. Is that satisfying?” For you rang like a sweet mantra in your head, and at your awkward nod the dane chuckled. It was a pleasant sound, making you wring your hands together and swallow nervously. You would have said more, but suddenly you heard your name being harshly called out, making the both of you jump.

“I–I must go now. No one else…knows. I didn’t think they’d take kindly to the idea of treating you.” That made the heathen's eyes darken with understanding, and she nodded.

“Go, the last thing I want is you to be punished for helping me.” Her voice had hardened just as it did the day you both met, though this time it didn’t scare you as much as before. It left you with a tight chest, and you didn’t trust your own voice to speak again properly. Quickly, you nodded, rushing out of the cave with warm skin and an ever growing heartbeat.

_______

Her name was Eivor, with some knowing her as Eivor the Wolf-kissed, you hoped it explained where the gaze came from.

You had felt it the day she’d woken up, and you had dismissed it as a look a warrior would give to their enemy. Calculating and intense, dragging down your body before rising back up to your eyes–you assumed as a saxon, she’d immediately seen you as her enemy and had reacted as such.

Now, you had no explanation for the heat in her stares, and it was starting to plague you.

Her promise of only days turned into another week with your insistent begging, and in that time period it became clear that walking into the cave was like walking into a wolf’s den. Each day that her wounds healed she grew stronger and more…overwhelming. In her teasing voice by your ear as you dressed her wounds, and in how when she sat with you, it was as if she was caging you in.

She spoke to you like a friend. An extremely caring one. She hated to see you exhausted after running around the abbey, angry they’d treat you more like a servant than an equal. Her hands would hold you close and urge you to rest in the safe embrace of her arms. It was nice, and you found yourself longing to go to the cave every day. However, you didn’t understand her actions. At first, you summed them up to culture, but her gaze told you otherwise.

There was something in those sapphire eyes, something enticingly dangerous, and it gleamed whenever your cheeks burned bright. It darkened when you bit your bottom lip with shyness, flickering over your heaving chest when her actions became too much for you to bear. Now, the tension in the air had shifted from one of fear to…curiosity. Need. But for what, you feared, would be your undoing.

“Little angel,” The raspy voice in your ear brought you out of your thoughts, “are you done?” You jumped, looking up to find Eivor’s face hovering above your own. It took everything in you not to marvel at it. She had a rough kind of beauty that made your insides squirm, and abruptly you looked down again.

“Yes! Right–apologies. I was lost in thought…” You finished fixing her bandages, fingers lingering over her toned abs. How are they so defined in the first place–large hands wrapped around your own, and with surprise you looked back up into Eivor’s concerned eyes.

“You’ve been odd lately. Listless. Is something bothering you?” You smiled softly. Despite her stern face, you’d soon learned that Eivor was incredibly soft. She was a warm soul, and from the stories she’d shared with you, someone who greatly cared about her family and friends. You shook your head.

“There’s nothing. Well, I don’t believe there is. I’m simply…confused, Eivor. May I ask,” you sucked in a fractured breath, unsure if you should continue. A calloused hand cupped your cheek, and unconsciously you shut your eyes to lean into the touch.

“What is it, love?” Again, she called you in a way that made your stomach burn and your heart swell. With a hushed whisper, you spoke your mind.

“Why do you…act this way with me? I do not understand. Is it custom for da–norse–to treat other women like…like…” You didn’t know how to say it, but Eivor didn’t need you to, humming softly.

“Like a husband would?” You breathed out in relief.

“Yes! Are norsewomen more intimate with one another than sax–” That made Eivor snort, sharply reigning in her laughter so only the corners of her lips twitched. However, at your puzzled stare she realized that hadn’t been some kind of joke, and her laughter completely left her. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and then eventually decided such innocence could only be met with a soft, but equal amount of bluntness.

“Little angel…I act this way because I have affection towards you. You are kind, albeit self-sacrificing.” What? You couldn’t believe the words she muttered, but her eyes held yours with such conviction that you knew it was true. You wanted to look away–her gaze was becoming more predacious with every second your cheeks burned brighter–yet you couldn’t, captivated as Eivor continued. “You shine like the sun, and I cannot help but think you are a gift from the gods…and in the future, if you would allow me, I would like to lie with you.”

She would…what? That had been the source of her looks this entire time. It wasn’t as someone assessing an enemy, nor pure curiosity. It was…lust. She wanted you, in ways you were sure you couldn’t imagine, and when you expected the feeling of disgust to wash over you, something worse happened.

All at once, it came barrelling over you. A tantalizing heat and debilitating fluster, aching across your skin as you struggled to say something, anything to discourage her words. The hand at your cheek was cruel. It burned like molten iron, doing nothing to help you think straight. Eivor wanted to lie with you, as a man would with a woman. To hold you in her arms, commit an act you had vowed under the eyes of God to abstain from–and while that should have made you wretch away from the woman, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Rather, you felt your core burn. Shame bubbled up inside of you, but so did the desire. From the beginning, you had wanted something from this woman. Before, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Now the answer was clear as day, burning over your heart.

“If I were to,” you had to pause, words too much to ask all at once, “to lie with you, Eivor. What…” you took the chance to glance up at her. Her gaze was like a crackle of lightning. It took your breath away and made you twitch with wanting. You found it took an effort to finish your question.

“What…would you do?” That was a mistake. There was hope in your voice you accidentally let slip through, and Eivor caught onto it. Those shapely lips twisted.

Once again, her sharp eyes dragged over you..but it was shameless this time. Devoid of the restraint and caution she’d had before. Now you shivered, because it was obvious now, painstakingly so, that from the moment Eivor met you, she’d wanted nothing more than to defile you.

_______

You were a mess, a whimpering, trembling mess, and Eivor wasn’t nearly done with you. She pulled away from between your breasts to catch her breath and admire her work. She’d left bite marks all over your chest, thighs, and waist, the indents of her teeth a pretty color across your tender skin. Your teary eyed, gasping face only spurred her on more, and she hummed as she leaned down to steal the heat from your lips, eliciting a moan from you.

Your precious gown, used to avert the eyes of men, was gone. Your veil was thrown away long ago. The autumn air bit at your skin, but regardless of the temperature around you, your body burned nonetheless. You felt one hand brush against your breast, sending a quivering through your spine as she rolled the bud between her fingers. Her other hand went further south, down to your unattended, dripping wetness.

She had been fiendish there before, suckling your thighs and kissing the skin between your legs and your heat, yet never there. No–not until you were gripping the hard muscles of her arms and practically begging, needy for relief. She might be one to tease, but Eivor wasn’t cruel–taking her fingers to grant you the pleasure you craved.

Her fingers brushed over your bud, and then she pressed down. It was gentle, yet firm, falling into a steady rhythm as she rubbed a tiny circle there. You gasped, nails digging into her arms. Soon you were overwhelmed with bliss, weak in the knees as your voice fell into sweet, keening sounds to her ears.

“That’s it,” the blonde said, voice gruff as she watched you whine, “keep letting me hear that beautiful voice angel.” Oh, did you obey that command, voice ringing out as if you’d become a bard just to sing of the pleasure she gave you. She pressed into your bundle of nerves more, never slowing down. You stammered, hands moving to cling to her back in desperation.

“I–I can’t…” Those sharp eyes were hazy now, glossed over as she took in your bruised lips and half-lidded eyes. Her hand circled your bud one last time before the pressure stopped, and immediately you let out a sound of dismay, trying to focus and ask why–but soon, you were given an answer.

“Oh–!” In one fluid motion, two thick fingers were plunged into your dewy folds, burying deep and making your back arch at the sudden fullness. Her fingers curled, and she took her time just as before, offering a steady, brutal rhythm. She wanted to leave you ruined, and it was working, bones turning to mush and overcome with sensual destruction.

Relentless, she pounded her fingers up to the knuckle. She knew what to do to leave you a puddle of fervent desire, skillful even as she grew more lustful herself. Watching you crumble from her digits stretching your heat was intoxicating, and you could see the carnal need in her eyes grow as she continued. Her tongue raked over her canines as she thrust particularly deep. You whimpered, body shaking uncontrollably, and the sight made her want to taste you, now more than ever. Without warning, she swiftly moved.

“E-Eivor!” All you could manage was to say the norse’s name with a fractured, desperate moan, squirming against her firm hands. They gripped your thighs and held them in place as she went down on you, indulging herself with the slick folds before her. She dragged her tongue upward, and you choked–your oversensitivity to her every action making your legs grow weak. She chuckled at your disoriented pleasure, and the vibrations of her voice against your folds were torturous. Eivor knew that, and she didn’t hesitate to use it, not bothering to pull away as she moaned against your heat.

You squirmed, bucking to push her tongue harder into you. She obliged, pressing deeper into your wetness and having her fill of your taste. Her nose routinely brushed against your bud, and it drove you wild, drowning in the sensations clawing at your core.

“I-I need, Eivor please–” how did a single question come to this? Now you were shamelessly begging the norse before you to have her way with you–as if she wasn’t already–lips forming over your bud. Oh God.

Your hands found their way into holding fistfuls of her blonde hair. She was calculated, devastating in her onslaught over your pearl. You were reduced to a bundle of mewls and hopeless clawing, throbbing against her tongue as she brought a mayhem of pleasure over you. It consumed you in a near terrifying way, eyes rolling as she continued to bring you to your peak.

“I can’t, d-don’t stop…!” It was the only warning you could utter before you were mindless, toes curling and hips rocking wildly. You choked back a sob as she continued to suck on your pearl even as you rode out your peak, only letting up when you completely slumped over. She kissed your twitching folds and inner thigh before she rose, gathering you in her arms.

“Little angel,” her chest rumbled at your back, textured hands pulling you into her lap. “Are you alright?” You were more than alright, nodding into the crook of her neck.

“I am. That was…um…” Despite having done all that, in the heat of the afterglow you felt your embarrassment creep back in. Eivor laughed.

“Good?” At your nod, she smiled, fingers brushing against the back of your neck. “I’m glad, I wanted to make sure you were comfortable…but it was hard to control myself once I saw that face.” The way she complimented you with ease made your stomach twist with butterflies once again, and it must have been evident on your face. Softly, a hand held your jaw where she wanted it, and Eivor kissed you slowly and sensually, pulling away just enough to whisper against your lips.

“Come back with me. I have a settlement–Raventhorpe–and I would care for you there. You wouldn’t be pushed around again, and your kindness would be honored, not used.” It was nearly said in a plea, hesitant as if the woman wasn’t sure what your answer would be. But you knew it from the moment she’d begun, heartwarming with joy.

“Yes,” you nodded so quickly it elicited a laugh from Eivor, adoring your enthusiasm, “I would love to, Eivor. If it means being with you…” Your fingers intertwined with hers, and you smiled wide, sharing in Eivor’s own giddy smile back.

“I’d go anywhere.”

#eivor varinsdóttir #female eivor #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #female eivor x reader #lady eivor #smut

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pixievi · 2 years

Text

❝ characters I will write for ❞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* current fandoms : arcane, assassins creed, tlou ii, bottoms, the locked tomb

arcane

｡ﾟ･ vi

｡ﾟ･ caitlyn kiramman

｡ﾟ･ sevika

the locked tomb

｡ﾟ･ gideon nav

｡ﾟ･ harrowhark nogesimus

｡ﾟ･ camilla hect

｡ﾟ･ crown/coronabeth tridentariius

｡ﾟ･ pash

willow (2022)

｡ﾟ･ kit tanthalos

｡ﾟ･ jade claymore

assassins creed

｡ﾟ･ eivor wolfkissed/varinsdottir

｡ﾟ･ kassandra the eagle bearer

｡ﾟ･ soma jarlskona

the last of us ii

｡ﾟ･ ellie williams

tomb raider

｡ﾟ･ lara croft

miscellaneous

｡ﾟ･ junkerqueen (overwatch)

｡ﾟ･ karli morgenthau (marvel)

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insertlatestfictionalcrushhere · 2 years

Text

Part 1 of PFPs ^-^

They're basic but humerous, no?

If you want the original pics to spice them up yourselves, I do have them and can send or post etc. Or you can find them by searching animals eating ( ˙꒳˙ )

#arcane #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika is my wife #sevika x reader #arcane lol #arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #piltovers finest #lol arcane #f!eivor #kassandra the eagle bearer #f!eivor x reader #kassandra x reader

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erzsebetrosztoczy · 1 year

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Thank you so much for writing that, I really enjoyed reading it. I love ivarr so much 💙would it be okay if I could request an imagine with Sigurd where him and the reader (a shieldmaiden for the clan) are dating but they have to break up because he is forced to marry Randvi. Sigurd asks eivor (male) to watch over her and always be there for her which results in eivor falling for her. (This is before they all go to England)

At your request 😌

Pairing: m!Eivor x f!reader

Word count: ~ 3000

Genre: angst, tiny fluff

Notes: Okay but I dig the "I cannot be with you, so I make sure someone else will keep you safe/company for that other person to fall in love with another so it's kinda a forbidden-love, love triangle I-live-for-drama story. Yesyes good soup :3 tempted to write about this more picturing Sigurd's reaction maybe??? Oh and I'm writing on sutdy break moments so the writing gonna be super slow but I try yall I swear I try 💀

„ No, this can’t go on anymore and you know this.” You sighed sitting up in the bed, the sheet's whisked a gentle breeze that stirred the bright flames of the candles around you. A groan left Sigurd's chest as he joined you, straightening up, his large palms came to rest on your middle, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. He did not respond right away, just sat there beside you, looking ahead as he came to rest his chin on your shoulder- tangled beard and ginger hair tickling your skin.

"You're to marry her." You continued, tone balked and weak. "How can you expect me to keep my heart this way, as it is right now? How can you expect me to–"

"I do not, my love." He cuts you off with a timid hum, his words resonating throughout your back. "I don't expect you to love me the way we loved each other when this happens… I don't want to– I would never disrespect your honor and trust."

You felt warmth on your cheeks, as tears broke off from the corner of your eyes, slowly making their way to drop down to your lap. It was no easy task, for neither of you. Sigurd was the clan's prince, the next in line, the only one who's right to lead the Raven clan. And therefore, King Styrbjörn made the decision to strengthen his position, the clan's safety and Sigurd's place by joining clans with a rival of his. Sigurd will marry the Jarl's eldest daughter, thereby forging an alliance with them.

The duty of a son. The demise of your love with the Raven Prince.

For weeks you have been consumed by the news, at first you did not believe that your love must soon end. Sigurd offered to go with him that very evening, desperate and hopeless. He will take you to a faraway land, where no one will know you, rank and duty will not matter, only you to each other.

But you both knew it would be an impossible undertaking; would the heir to the throne, who dreamed of following in his father's footsteps since he was a boy, run away from his birthright for the love of a simple blacksmith's daughter?

A girl, whose aging parents are waiting for her at home who loves her, who needs her help and protection. Who would remain among the voices, eyes and mouths in the storm left behind by their child's shame?

No, you were both more mature than that. You will take the responsibility that your ancestors have given to you, so that the white canvas of the lineage does not fail.

“I know, love. I know that.” You calmed Sigurd falling back, leaning your neck on his chest gazing up at him. Sigurd's arms crawled around your torso, reassuringly pulling your body closer to his as he gently rested his chin on the top of your head.

Your lips trembled as a new idea passed through your sweeping mind - a mindless, desperate, shameless idea, but you felt you might be able to survive the hardships that came with it. Your voice was thinning, almost whispering when you uttered the words.

"What if we don’t need to stop our love after all?" You proposed, waiting a few moments to gather the courage to continue. "We do it so that no one knows. They don't know it even now, anyway. It's just that...there would be another person there. During the day, her husband; at night, mine...?"

"Are you saying let's continue all this in the midst of even greater secrecy?" Sigurd's voice rang doubtfully. In addition to deep pain and sadness, bitterness seeped into his words. Are you saying you want me to pretend you're just a side issue? Like I just want to be with you in secret when my wife can't see it?” He moved quickly, you hardly had time to react to him as he crawled back and pulled your body into his lap, hugging you tightly, looking down at you with a worried look. It was then that you saw your dear prince's eyes were glistening with tears.

You couldn't give an answer, just to swallow against the huge lump that was squeezing your throat. You saw no other option but to…

“I will never put you in a situation where you think you're just an affair to me. I love you, my dear, with all my heart, and if it were up to me, I would have made you my wedded wife long winters ago.” He said, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your temple."I want you to be my wife, my partner who stands by my side. You deserve that, nothing less. I wouldn't dishonor you not even for all the treasures of Midgard. But I can't do that."

“So then? Will it all end? What we have? What we share, what we feel? How could I forget this…leave this behind..?” Your vision blurred as tears pooled in your eyes, the man's tall figure looking down at you from behind a wall of water. You waited and hoped for so long, after so many doubts and struggles, when you finally realized that there was more to you than simple friendship. After you were finally brave enough to cross that invisible line. Finally you could be together, and those moments were worth more than any treasure; you finally felt like you found that lost piece of your soul that you've always longed for. Finally, your heart was filled with him, you were happy with him, you were happy with each other. And now it's over? You will be banished once again to a harsh and dark barrenness without Sigurd's care and touch.

"Duty comes first. It doesn't just bind me, it binds you too, and you know that well."Sigurd slowly leaned forward, the warmth emanating from his skin comfortably covering your body, and fearing that he would soon pull away from you, you crossed your arms over his back.

"Whatever fate brings, my heart will be yours forever."

"I belong to you and you to me as long as we live." His lips whispered, softly caressing your face, one last time.

___

The wind bit hard against his skin as Eivor walked across the creaking wooden planks of the dock, around him- the lights of twilight flickered back from the icy sea. The flames of the torches bent with each gust of wind, dutifully standing at the edge of the pier.

His brother waited for him — arms folded behind his back, standing at the edge of the dock, watching the icy, slow-rolling sea as the blues and greens of the night lights cast upon Mindgard.

Sigurd took him aside for a word during the day, when Eivor had just returned from his dawn hunt- the stag not yet cooled out on his horse's back when he arrived. A single glance was enough for the young man to realize that something was wrong with his brother, Sigurd's usual serene expression, his eyes shining with peace, now dull and weak.

“Is there a problem, brother?" He raised his hand worriedly on Sigurd's shoulder, growing somber himself. Eivor usually cared for his own business, he didn't like to interfere in others' debates and troubles, but when it came to his brother's burdens, Eivor did everything to see Sigurd happy again.

As his piercing gray-blue eyes focused on Eivor, the young man thought he could feel the pressure of heavy burdens on his brother. Waiting for an answer, he scanned Sigurd's face, trying to figure out what was pressing on his heart.

Sigurd's eyes closed for a moment, a deep frown appeared between his eyebrows, and then they smoothed out just as quickly when he looked back at his little brother.

"Meet me on the beach after dinner. I have something to discuss with you, Eivor." He announced and after a strong handshake he left, leaving Eivor with the prey he had killed.

The elder brother's gaze was lost in the distance, the unison ripple of the water moved the pieces of the ice armor broken by the ships. Fornburg was quiet at this late hour, only the lapping of the water and the whistling of the wind could be heard. Eivor walked over to his brother silently; standing next to the tall man, he folded his arms across his chest and looked around the bay.

He knew that his brother was not usually this solemn, something really important could be weighing on his soul. Like everything since childhood, the two brothers shared their troubles with each other, looking for advice and sympathy in the other. Eivor decided to wait for Sigurd, let him share his problems with him at his own pace, he would not force this out of his brother.

For a while they stood motionless , silently appreciating the company and the discretion, as the two brothers had done many times before. After a long sigh, Sigurd looked up at the sky, blowing white mist into the air. Waves of colors seemed to follow the sea, the threads and shapes did their eternal dance in silence.

I presume you heard the news from our father.” The taller brother spoke, hoarse. Eivor glanced at his brother who kept his eyes on the sky- as he nodded. Oh, now he understood what it's all about. Oh, he now understood what it was all about.

"I follow our father in the leadership of the Clan, my duty is to keep my people safe; to give them a good life." He continued, raising his gray iris to Eivor.

The blond lad straightened his posture, his brother's look suggested that his help would be needed now more than ever.

"You will be a good leader." Eivor tried to reassure Sigurd,with conviction in his voice. Sigurd weakly acknowledged the words with a half-smile, but his eyes only exuded sadness. "No matter what happens brother, you’ll always have me by your side. I'll help you no matter what."

Sigurd wrinkled his nose wryly, as if a white-hot knife had been thrust into his side, as if it caused him immense pain to even talk about it.

"I entrust you with a serious task, brother, because you are the only one in the world in whose hands I would place my life."

An anxious, tight lump grew in Eivor's stomach, waiting for the question he had suspected since their father had told him of Sigurd's betrothal.

"You have to take care of her." Sigurd finally breathed, his voice breaking in the evening frost. "Be there for her and make sure she lives the life she deserves. The one we both know she deserves." Sigurd made him promise. .

___

Stretching your legs, you jumped off the rock, splashing the sparkling water onto the sand in the shallows.

"The fish must have heard that the dreaded Wolfsmal was stomping this way and ran up to the trees in fright." Chuckling, you strode over to Eivor's side, hands clasped behind your back, chin lifted to examine him as he stood in the stream with his breeches pulled up to his knees, fishing line in hand.

The man huffed one with pretended rage, lifting one leg in the stream, he kicked towards you, soaking your thin linen apron. You squealed and jumped back- a grimace of surprise and astonishment plastered on your face.

"Evor!" You shouted insulted, immediately bending down to return the “kind” gesture to the man by dipping your arm into the ice-cold spring. Laughing, you rushed at him, splashing the water back at him, that made Eivor dart backwards, his deep laughter echoing in the roaring water.

“If you keep doing this, there won't be fish for dinner and then you can try to explain to Tekla what we were up to instead of doing the chores.”

"Oh, I'm not the one who stands in the stream for half a day without a catch!" You cut back, spraying a veil of water over Eivor's head again. Having enough of your duel wrapped the line around his hand, starting to move towards you, his strong legs carrying him with easy through the heavy upstream. Turning back to the shore, you stumbled out onto the dry just in time, when you felt the touch of his wet, cold hand on your upper arm, closing around your torso from both sides, erasing even the thought of escape from your mind.

Your legs rose from the ground as you tried to kick free as one of Eivor's arms crawled under your knees, scooping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing.

"Put me down, Eivor!" You rolled your eyes at him, but his huge smile just betrayed the mischief, hiding across his face. "Do you hear that? Don't you dare throw me in the—" You ordered, trying to sound menacing and angry, but just like Eivor's face, your own was beaming with childish glee.

The man firmly grabbed your legs and arms and spun around on the shore, slapping you in the face with his untangled, wet curls. Apart from the roar of the river and the birds' whistles in the green forest, only the laughter and shouts of the two of you could be heard far along the river.

Sometimes, in moments like this, you forgot that what you call home now, was a foreign land a long time ago. A foreign country, with foreign people - but also a new beginning, a clean start. Leaving the past behind, you and your family came to this island in search of a new life. At first, it was searing, almost unbearable pain that you constantly felt when you saw Sigurd beside another; when you were no longer able to touch his scarred skin or press soft kisses onto his lips– all slowly drifted away in your mind and heart, leaving a throbbing wound, now only a memory for you.

Eivor was always there to distract you from them. As in battle, so in everyday life you sought his presence; your friendship - initially bonded by Sigurd- grew stronger, growing into faithful companions who were always there for each other at arm's length.

You knew that, and you felt it on Eivor as well; this bond was important to both of you. The two lonely souls, often separated from the clan, could have a kindred soul by their side. And you also knew very well that this arm's length was slowly shrinking. Pulling the thread of the bond on you ever tighter...

After finishing the game, you both started collecting your fishing gear and your own belongings, moving quickly and smoothly around each other. You glanced to the side from the horses, catching Eivor tossing his water-dripping mane back in frustration, leaving dark blue stains on his blue tunic. Sighing in amusement, you turned back to him, hands on your hips.

"Shall I help you?" You called out to him, but before Eivor could answer, you quickly stepped behind him.

You ran your fingers through his blonde curls, the thick strands gently tickling your fingertips. Eivor's shoulders relaxed with a sigh, instantly bending his knees so you could reach his head.

Not a single word was spoken between you, as your nimble fingers braided his long hair into a loose line, careful not to pull on his lush curls.

Finishing your work, you wiped your wet hands on your skirt, Eivor turned, towering over you as he faced you. The man must have been two heads taller than you, so close to him you had to bend your neck back a little to be able to look into his shining sky blue eyes.

His eyes always seemed to you they were in a different color each time you locked eyes with him. Ice blue, light blue, greenish blue- it seemed that Eivor's penetrating gaze was the night light itself. It was as if Eivor carried a part of your past within himself. The water was still dripping from his beard and forehead, small drops falling onto your face. An arm's length away, you were always just an arm's length away from each other.

"Eivor…" You breathed softly, raising your palm to your cheek. You didn't even notice that your thumb brushed away a drop of water from under his eyes. He knew everything about you, and you knew everything about him, the days when you were alone in his absence passed so bitterly slowly.

His searching gaze betrayed his thoughts when it fell from your eyes to your slightly open lips for a few moments. And you caught the moment. Whether it was you or the man who broke the still moment, you didn't know. You only realized it, when his lips were on yours, soft flesh melting over yours as a hand crept across your middle, pulling your body towards his form. Eyelids closed, you eagerly answered the movement, capturing his tender bottom lips between your teeth. At this action, Eivor groaned into the kiss, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he slightly skimmed across your lips with his tongue. The touch burnt your skin all across your body, tingling and pinching you, as your mind buzzed in excitement.

The warmth left your lips too soon, cold air sweeping across your flushed face as Eivor leant back. His gaze felt so tender across your form, adoring warmth glimmered in his eyes, a hand rubbing your side up and down.

The distance has now dissipated, a thread has grown stronger and tighter, as it connected your hearts, opening a new path for you.

#ac valhalla #assassin's creed #assassin's creed valhalla #eivor #male eivor #m!eivor #eivor varinsson #male eivor x reader #m!eivor x reader #m!eivor x f!reader #ac valhalla fanfic #my writing #ac sigurd #assassins creed sigurd #sigurd styrbjörnsson #sigurd styrbjornsson

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