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π Astrid Hofferson π How to Train Your Dragon π 190+ Images in Download-Link
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 17:00:04 +0000 UTCThe fire had burned low.
Only embers remained β pulsing softly like a second heartbeat beneath the stars.
She sat cross-legged on a wool blanket, her axe laid to rest beside her, hair still damp from the river. The scent of pine and ash clung to her skin. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called. Otherwise, the forest was still.
He sat across from her, watching the way the flames flickered in her eyes.
She hadnβt meant for this night to become more than a place to rest. But something about the stillness β the way the sky opened above them, the way the night made everything feel more honest β had pulled them closer without words.
Her leather straps had loosened hours ago. Now, only the soft fabric of her underlayer clung to her, slipping off one shoulder as she leaned forward to pour warm tea into a shared wooden cup.
He didnβt look away.
She didnβt mind.
βI thought warriors like you never let their guard down,β he murmured.
She tilted her head. Smiled. βMaybe I just choose carefully who I lower it for.β
She crawled closer, the blanket rustling beneath her knees, until they were face to face β close enough to feel each other's breath. Her fingers brushed against his jaw, tracing the scar that ran along his cheekbone.
He didnβt flinch.
Instead, his hand found her waist, pulling her gently onto his lap.
She exhaled slowly, letting her body soften into his, her head resting against his shoulder. There was no rush. No command. Only the kind of quiet pull that builds when two people have fought battles and now want to fight for nothing β just feel.
His hands slid over her hips, up her back, slow and warm.
Her lips brushed his neck β not a kiss, but a promise.
By the time they lay back on the furs, tangled together beneath the stars, nothing needed to be said. The forest closed around them like a secret. And in the hush of the wild, she let herself be more than the fighter β more than the frost in her voice or the steel in her grip.
She let herself be held.
Touched.
Seen.
And when their bodies moved together β breath for breath, heartbeat for heartbeat β it wasnβt about power or control.
It was about trust.
And the quiet kind of hunger that comes from being known.
Comments
Daniel P
Beautiful Viking
ghostbeetle
πGorgeous cutie!πππ
