#✖ [Ubbe]

[crowsandmurder]

[ @emptysculs liked for a Starter ]

Hvitserk had always been closest to Ubbe.  He didn’t know, if it was that they were so close in age, but they were always close.  He knew that things were going to get crazy. They were going to England to avenge their father, the father who’d abandoned them for years. But, it was what needed to be done. They were the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, and he was to be avenged. Ooin had come to them himself, but Hvitserk felt a little uneasy.  Bjorn and Ivar were already fighting over who should be in charge.  He agreed with Bjorn. He was the oldest.  But, Ivar could be unreasonable.  

He went looking for his brother, before he found him, eventually.  He moved to sit down, and looked over at Ubbe.

“What do you think? Who’s right, Ivar or Bjorn? This feels like another thing Father should have decided, that he didn’t. 

[dollwritesarchive]

S Y N D I C A T E ✖ S1EP2

pairing(s): ivar x reader, hvitserk x reader, ubbe x reader, sigurd x reader, possible bjorn x reader, ubbe x torvi, suggested ragnar x lagertha, suggested ragnar x aslaug

episode summary:  you begin to suspect the club holds a number of secrets.

series rating: [ M ] ature, please no minors. contains smut, drugs, death, and more.

huge thank you: @robincoalition​ for always beta reading <3

do not repost / claim as your own work!

        SEASON MASTERLIST  // REBLOG, LIKE, REPLY!!

“Honestly, the job is super easy. Do your rounds, ask the gentlemen if they want shots, give them the shots and take the money. Pretty hard to fuck it up,” Sofie is a lot colder than the blonde you’d met hours earlier, and it was hard to believe that they were in the same position. Sofie had cropped, crimson tendrils and wore dark lipstick. she gave off an air of danger, or aggression, or both, and following her around was proving to be more difficult than you’d expected. she moved quickly, bouncing from table to table, patron to patron, offering them shots with a sultry wink that you were sure if you were to try and replicate would look awkward and clumsy. “If you can get past all the grab-assing.” Sofie pauses, and glances over her shoulder to see you, balancing the still full tray of test tubes. the flashing lights bouncing off the walls and the floor made you dizzy. “Jesus, you good? You look like a newborn deer.” 

“I’m fine,” you insist, gaining your balance. you take a deep breath. the environment was different than the day time. everything moved so fast, the dancers were focused, the club overflowed with customers, mostly men in suits and no-doubt fat wallets ready to be relieved of their weight, and bills rained down on the stages. “It’s just- it seems like a different world compared to what it was earlier.” “Get used to it,” Sofie answered, quirking a thin brow. “This is a slow night.” she glances around, a frown twisting her lips, before she nods towards the bar. “Come on, I’m empty and you should get to know some of the others, too.” your jaw practically drops, but you follow her obediently, weaving through the masses of sweaty bodies, some clothed and others not. “You’re kidding. There’s like, a hundred people here, at least.” “Björn doesn’t consider it a decent night unless the Fire Marshall shows up and tells him to clear it out,” a chipper voice rings out from the bar as you approach. the bartender smiles, chestnut eyes sparkling against the glow of the bar top, her flawless sepia complexion seeming to glow warm and inviting  in contrast to the cool, silver bustier she wore. “And even then, he doesn’t.” “Won’t that get him in trouble?” Sofie waves her hand, flaunting sharp stiletto nails painted black and faded ink etched into each, dainty finger. “Please, Björn tosses him a couple hundred bucks and gives him club credit for a free lap dance.” “What?” you’re astounded, “He bribes the Fire Marshall? Isn’t that, like, extremely illegal?” your coworkers blink, and exchange amused glances, before the bartender leans forward. “Wow, you really are like a lost puppy, huh? Björn said we’d have to show you the ropes, I didn't know he meant you’d be completely clueless.” she giggles, but Sofie still seems unimpressed, resting a hand on each hip. “It sounds fun, actually. Maybe you’re just what this place needs. A little lamb to feed the lions.” “I just hope she’s worth it,” Sofie grumbles with a roll of her eyes. “Because training her is cutting into my tips.” you thought about turning to her and clearing your throat to let her know you were still standing there, but you knew she hadn’t forgotten. the bartender pushes her lips out in a thick pout, shaking her head. “Oh, relax, Sof. You can go a night or two splitting your tips with the new girl, can’t you?” you want to reach up and rub the back of your neck, feeling apologetic and yet, not at all. part of you knew how irritating it must be for an experienced employee like Sofie to babysit the newbies, but you had earned this job fair and square. you needed the money; damn right, she was splitting her tips. “Hey, Little Lamb.” the bartender smiles, her deep eyes turning to crescents as the apples of her cheeks accommodate her wide grin. “What’s your name?” you tell her, and she tilts her head, before adding jovially, “Hm? I think I prefer Little Lamb. Name’s Angel, nice to see a fresh face here.” for the first time that night, you giggle, and nod, thankful for the moment to breathe and talk to someone other than Sofie, who seemed to loathe you already. “Fair enough. I guess it’s better than ‘Girl Scout’, Björn almost didn’t hire me because he said I didn’t have balls.” “Was he right?” Sofie inquires, turning on you with a sniper’s stare. was this a test, or was she simply asking? it seemed more like the former, so you shook your head, knitting your brows. she seemed the type to feed off of weakness, so you decided she wouldn’t see any from you. “No, not at all. Björn’s wrong about me-“ Angel peeks up, looking over your head and one brow arches. your heartbeat stutters when you hear the baritone coming from behind you. “Oh yeah?” your face heats up with the warmth of embarrassment. you hadn’t even noticed he was standing behind you. how long had he been there, exactly? you spin on the heels of your platforms, a pair of shoes that made you at least seven inches taller than you were previously and incredibly unstable, and held the tray close to your chest, though you didn’t take it back. you nod again, determined. “Yeah,” you answer, toes curling in your open-toed heels out of pure nervous habit. “I’m here, aren’t I?” it was nearly a challenge, and you could see the gears of his mind turning, as if he were deciding what his next move would be. he smirks, looks over the floor, and nods towards it. “You sure as shit are. Hanging around my bar chit chatting while my customers are thirsty. Why don’t you go do another round?” Sofie and Angel were busying themselves, Angel concocting shots and Sofie arranging them, but Björn didn’t seem to want to wait on Sofie to guide you. “Well?” “By myself?” “Where’s your balls, Girl Scout?” Björn taunts; now, this is definitely a test. “Let’s see what you’ve learned so far. Consider it a pop quiz.” how could you possibly argue with that? you can do this, you think as you hold the tray in one arm, balancing it as skillfully as you can, and tilt your chin upwards with an inviting smile.  “No problem, Boss.”

 watching you go, Björn chuckles to himself, sliding between stools to rest both elbows on the surface on the bar and stretch out his long, thick legs in front of him. “What’s the verdict?” he asks his employees, iced cobalt hues following you. “Are you shitting me?” Sofie demanded with a disgruntled snort, “She’s clumsy, and she doesn’t fit in here at all.” “I dunno,” Angel chimes in, shaking a cocktail in silver tin, “She’s a little naive, but she seems fearless to me. I mean, my first night I would’ve never told you to your face that you were wrong.” the amber liquid cascades into a decorative glass, and she slides it forward into the waiting customer’s hand, swiping the cash he handed her in return, before she leans over to nudge Björn’s broad shoulder. “I like her, and I think you do, too.”  Björn scoffs, but perhaps that’s the reason he has a hard time taking his eyes off of you. his gaze rakes over your white hot pants, tracing each diamond of your thigh-high fishnets over the tantalizing curves of your legs. “I don’t know,” he murmurs finally, more to himself than the girls, “I haven’t decided.”

 your feet were killing you after another half hour, this time by yourself, and countless trips to the bar for another set of shooters. however, the wads of wrinkled bills sticking out from around the sleek, black garter wrapping your upper thigh made the constant back and forth, and the relentless drunk flirting, all worth it. most were ones, but there were a couple fives and even a stray ten or two, and you could tell by the sheer mass of them that it was over one hundred dollars in tips that you’d earned, all by yourself. you felt rewarded. you felt strong and powerful. you caught glimpses every now and then of Björn watching you work and you made sure each step you made, every smile and playful wink, was picture perfect. you were too caught up with a rambunctious table of young businessmen and one graying man, a retirement party most likely, to notice the duo step through the doors at Völva, nor did you know their relevance to the place and owner. yet. “Here you go, gentlemen.” you beam, holding the tray out for them, you bow forward ever so slightly, and they grab two a piece. the payment goes right in your hand, and the hefty tip slipped into your garter. you feel a thumb linger against your skin, and your first instinct would be to step away, but you had to remember that you were in no position to reject the stranger’s advances. it wasn’t long before security approached you, anyways, and a wave of relief washed over you. “Don’t touch the girls.” he barks, forcefully removing the tipper’s hand from your leg. “New girl,” he turns to you instead, sliding a hand around you and applying enough pressure to your lower back to nudge you back towards the service bar. “Björn’s looking for you.” you could tell as soon as you met eyes with your boss, as he shifted against the bar, Angel hard at work behind him. there was a strange  look on his face, more tense and alert than before, and you pondered the idea of you having already messed up. was he going to tell you to beat it? no, you thought, shaking those thoughts free from your brain. there’s no way he could just fire you, not when you’d been following every single rule. “You wanted to talk to me?” you set the tray of shots down on the service bar as you step to his right, and Angel gives you a gentle smile, taking the tray out of the way. “Is something wrong?”  “Take your break.” he murmurs, but he’s not the same, somehow. he seems distracted by something or someone in the bar, sky blue eyes zeroed into the crowds. your eyes follow his gaze, and land on a table angled away from the bars, and though you can hardly make out the silhouettes, two sets of broad-shoulders.  “Are you sure? I can keep-“ “Take your break.” Björn repeats, and this time, it’s more of a growl than a suggestion, pulling himself away from the bar, his eyes turn on you. “Thirty minutes.” with that, he leaves you and Angel alone at the bar. you watch him weave in between the tables, though his eyes remained trained on the particular party of two with their backs to you. they’re relevant, somehow, you can tell they make him nervous, but why?  “If he tells you to take your break, then just do it.” Angel pipes up from behind the bar, eyes faced down at the drinks she pours. “Trust me, he’s doing you a favor.” “What do you mean?” when you inquire, you can tell the bartender had added the last statement by accident, and she immediately regretted it, by the way she chanced a glance up at you and then immediately back down. your eyebrows furrow. how many secrets did these walls keep? gazing back out over the patronage, your eyes land on Björn once more. he’s approached the table, but he stands beside it, instead of taking a seat with them. his body language says it all, that he’s guarded and careful. his shoulders are taut, arms crossed over his broad chest, and even under the flashing strobes, you can tell his face is twisted into a nasty grimace. “Hey Angel,” you lean close to the bar and gesture towards where he stands. “Whose table is that?” you look to her. she didn’t have to follow your gaze to know who you were asking about. she sighs, narrow shoulders loosening. “Might as well be the Devil’s.” she sets the bottles down for once, and her attention is all yours for the first time that night. “They’re bad guys, and you should steer clear of them.” taking a moment to absorb her warning, you turn your attention back to them. one has gotten to his feet and embraces Björn with both arms. though the latter is bulkier, the shadow is nearly the same height. it’s only now that you see the outline of a bun, or a top knot. “Björn seems to know them pretty well…” you trail off, your eyes glued to the display as the silhouette gives your boss a few firm pats on the back.  “Well, yeah. Hvitserk and Ivar are his younger brothers.” Ivar. there that name is again, barreling into the conversation like a freight train, and your head snaps to attention towards your coworker. “Did you say Ivar?” your memory floods with the conversation you’d overheard earlier that day, and how the employee who quit seemed so shaken over whatever this Ivar person was doing to her. “Yeah, the youngest,” Angel places both palms down on the bar top, her gaze is earnest and perhaps even concerned. “Ivar’s here a lot, probably the most out of, like, all of them. I think he thinks it’s funny to scare the girls, or maybe he’s scouting? I dunno, I just hate working when he’s here. He gives me the creeps.” “What would he be scouting for?” you look away from her, focused on the shadows and your employer. Björn seems to have relaxed ever so slightly, but keeps a defensive stance as he engages in conversation with them. a few moments go by and you realize she hasn’t answered you, so you turn your eyes back to her, and she has a cautious frown on her face. a simple shake of her head, and you know that you won’t be getting the answer to that question. “Look, Little Lamb,” Angel leans in, brows furrowed, and her voice lowers. you have to meet her half way in order to hear her warning against the shell of your ear. “Word to the wise: don’t ask any questions about the brothers. To anyone. And stay away from them, above everything else. They’re dangerous people and if you give them a reason, they won’t hesitate to hurt you.” for the first time that night, you didn’t ask any more questions, your heart sinking to the depths of your stomach, you stare at the table, your mind overflowing with curiosities that you had no idea how close you were to uncovering. 

                  VIKINGS MASTERLIST / TAGS & FAQ

forever tags ; @the-awkwardly-hot​

vikings tags ; @satchie666​

ivar tags ;  @youbloodymadgenius​ @alexhandersenx​

syndicate tags ; @didiintheblog​​ @poisonous00​​ 

[crowsandmurder]

[ @gonebror  ❤ ‘d for a Starter ] 

The Sami had been in Kattegat for several days now and Princess Snaefrid was not sure what she thought of it. She definitely had not expected that she’d wind up finding a man that she was to marry, here. She’d made her way to the Great Hall, glancing around. She didn’t see Bjorn anywhere, but she spotted another man who looked a little like him, but a little bit not.  She looked around, moving to grab something to drink and she took a drink.

“I don’t believe that we have met yet. I am Princess Snaefrid. I’m here with the Sami.” 

She was always torn between being outgoing which was her nature and the reserved her father preferred her to be, even if that never seemed to work out. 

[crowsandmurder]

@princeubbe​ liked for a starter & gets a older, but still ridiculous King

King Ecbert knew everything was in shambles. His family had gotten away, but everything else was in ruins. He should have known that Ragnar Lothbrok would betray him. But despite his betrayal, he had to say that was something that he would have done himself. Despite all of it and how things appeared, there was indeed a twist. He had freed Ragnar from King Aelle’s grasp, before his death. He’d created some fake treaty and he’d pulled him out of there. He’d had him at the Royal Villa ever since, well in theory.

He’d wound up basically holding him up in the tower, and the last he checked, he was still alive. So, he was technically alive. But no one had given him a chance to talk. He’d heard the son that could not walk talk about a blood eagle. He’d heard many different things, but the son that he assumed was one of Ragnar’s older sons, one that moved like his father had when they met, was currently guarding him.

“Hey Son of Ragnar, I know you all seem to be determined to kill me, but what if I have a bit of information that may change your mind, perhaps about your father.”

[crowsandmurder]

[ @princeubbe ]

Björn could not believe what a mess everything had turned into. This was about avenging Ragnar, and they’d avenged him. He was done with what he said he’d do, but leave it to Ivar to make everything about him, suddenly. He couldn’t just stop himself when Sigurd had teased him. He had to kill him. This was all a huge mess, and he knew that it was only going to get worse. Ivar was out of control. They would give Sigurd what he deserved, as one of their people, but he would not stay. He was not willing to stay.  He had his own path. This was all going to turn into a big mess, and he was not going to tolerate Ivar. He had to go.

He spotted Ubbe looking a bit..he was just as upset as the rest of them about their brother. He went over to him, and he sighed.

“We will give Sigurd what he deserves, as our brother, as a son of Ragnar. Something has to be done about Ivar though. I cannot stay, this is not my path, but you cannot tell me that you are okay with what he did to our brother. It is not what our father would have wanted.” 

[dollwritesarchive]

S Y N D I C A T E ✖ S1EP1

pairing(s): ivar x reader, hvitserk x reader, ubbe x reader, sigurd x reader, possible bjorn x reader, ubbe x torvi, suggested ragnar x lagertha, suggested ragnar x aslaug

episode summary:  the pilot episode! the job interview that flips your world on it’s head.

series rating: [ M ] ature, please no minors. contains smut, drugs, death, and more.

huge thank you: @robincoalition​ for always beta reading <3 

do not repost / claim as your own work!

         SEASON MASTERLIST  // REBLOG, LIKE, REPLY!!

the club, usually thumping with heavy bass and illuminated by blinding neon, seemed a lot less intimidating during the daytime. you’d seen it from the highway after work, and you’d seen the line snaking through the jammed parking lot, out to the exit. you’d never seen a nightclub, a strip club, so packed in your life before Völva. it made you curious. what was so amazing about that particular club that drew so many people in, and, of course, with that many customers, what were the employees pulling in terms of tips? 

so, why exactly were you here at two in the afternoon? well, that was easy. 

you needed work. 

gripping your resume tight against your chest, modest soles of your black flats scrape against the concrete that sparkles after a midday rain. the air was still thick and heavy, smelling of water and pollution; the overpass just above your head. there were still a surprising number of cars to weave a path through, even for a Tuesday afternoon, and you began to wonder if the citizens of this city had anything other to do than hang around this place. glancing into the driver’s side of a purple sedan, your cheeks flush crimson. there, before you, illuminated by afternoon sunlight, was a crown of chocolate locks, bobbing up and down on the driver’s lap. you want to avert your eyes, out of respect for the couple’s privacy, even if they didn’t seem to care about hiding their shame. you didn’t have time to do so, before the driver caught your eye. with a sleazy smirk, he smashed the button, and the window slides downwards. 

“Wish you were her?” he asks, flashing a yellow grin. 

appalled, and hoping you misunderstood him, you take a step back from the vehicle. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Look, Honey.” the man snaps, and you stiffen at the sound. his tone has changed from amusement to almost annoyance. “You can hop in and give her a hand, but y’all will have to split the cash, because I’m not forkin’ out anymore.” 

he places his hand on the top of her head and presses down, as if to punctuate his point, and you shudder, shaking your head. “N-no thank you!” you stammer as you quickly turn on your heels and scurry towards the door. your heart was pounding, mind racing, and every possible regret that you had coming to a place like this flashing before your eyes as you stood in the line, hugging your paperwork to you. whether it was the customers in line with you or the building itself, but you were getting the eerie feeling your every move was under surveillance. 

“ID.” 

you finally make your way to the doormen, two robust, bearded men wearing  tight, black tees with SECURITY in white lettering across the chest; one has his arm outstretched. “Oh,” you blush again, nibbling on your bottom lip. you had no intention of going inside, you were just hoping to speak to whoever was in charge of hiring. if you were lucky, they could call the boss to the door. “Is the owner available? I was hoping to speak to them.” 

“That depends on what you want.” the man retorts, curling his fingers, gesturing that he still required your ID. 

“A job?” you reply, hopeful, only to be met with a rumbling laugh that bellows from the depths of his chest. you blink, confused, and admittedly a little offended. “Is there an opening?” 

the bouncer crosses his arms over his broad chest, thick eyebrows knitting together, a smirk just barely tugging at pursed, thin lips. “You don’t look like you belong in a place like this,” he answers after a few moments, “trust me, I’d probably be doing you a favor if I told you Ironside wasn’t here. Why don’t you go on home, and keep pretending this place don’t exist?” 

“I’m not trying to get any favors,” you insist, eyes narrowing, “Only hoping to get a job. You said Ironside?” you grip the folder in your hands. “Is he the owner?” what a peculiar name, you think, but you don’t dare say so. 

one bouncer, the redhead, leans over to the bald one, and whispers something in his ear. they both look pensive for a moment.

“Inside.” the bald man cocks his head as a gesture into the club, the door opening. a toxic cloud of nicotine and the stench of alcohol and sweat follows a group of men out. you catch a glimpse of the interior. dark, littered with stages, strobe lights bouncing off of every corner. the music is loud enough for you to feel in your chest. “But you’re not getting in until I see some ID.” you hold your breath, the overwhelming stench of musk emanating from the men as they stumble by you. they had seemingly bathed in too much cheap cologne and were saturated in booze. you shake away the smell as soon as they’re far enough away that you feel as though you can open your mouth again, and you flash the bald bouncer a smile. it’s supposed to seem confident and gregarious, but you’re almost positive it seems uncertain. you fish your wallet out of your purse with one hand, the other pressing your precious folder against your chest. 

handing it over, you feel strangely nervous, regardless of the fact that you were of legal age. you’d never been in a strip club before, and the task of going inside now was heavy on your mind. 

the bulky guard repeats your name as he reads it, and then with a sly smile, he gives the card back to you. “Go on in. Ironside’s probably stocking the bar.” as you walk past, you swear you hear him mumble, “They’re going to eat her up.” to the other.

stepping inside the club is somehow totally different than getting a peek from outside. though it’s the same smells, same sights, it feels less like you’re breaking some unspoken law. still, you weren’t prepared for naked breasts in the middle of the day, and you stared at the dark, hardwood floor as you passed each stage. you could hear the clicking of impossibly high heels over the deafening rhythm. you blush, madly, as you take a quick gander upwards, to ensure you didn’t stumble over an occupied armchair close to the main stage, and the dancer grips the pole in the center with both hands. as if she weighs nothing at all, she pulls herself into the air and inverts, spreading long, lean haunches. the minimal fabric of her g-string seemed almost wrapped in the bills that she’s earned that day so far, and they fan out against her ripped fishnets like wrinkled feathers. the way her body ripples, calculated and enticing, to the beat was so erotic that you had to look away, for you could feel your cheeks burning.

“Shots?” an incredibly bubbly, petite blonde held up a tray of test tubes, filled with rainbow liquid. she was one of the few employees that seemed to be able to wear all of of her clothes, in high rise, sequined hot pants and a black bustier. you also noticed the garter securing her tips to her thigh, and it was so well stocked that it bulged from around her supple, exposed thigh. 

“No thanks,” you breathe a sigh of relief. she wore a high ponytail and a minuscule wing fleeting just out of the corner of each eyelid. she was the first to make you feel a little more comfortable. “I’m here to see the owner? Ironside?”

the waitress eyes you up and down, all of the color in her previously rosy cheeks seeming to fade away in seconds, her smile drops for a moment. “On whose behalf?”

what a strange question.

“My own,I guess,” you offer with an awkward shrug and a hopeful smile. “I’m looking for a job?”

her emerald eyes light up in an instant, as if she’s relieved to hear the news. “Oh! Sure, no problem. Here, follow me.” she shifts her tray to one arm, balancing it in the crease where her bicep meets her forearm, and uses her free extremity to wave for you to come with her.

you keep two steps behind her, careful not to get separated amidst the nude dancers as they slither through the crowds like serpentesses, picking out their cash cows for the night. you had to give them credit, they were absolutely good at their game; with wads of cash exploding out from their skimpy bottoms or hooked loosely into the waistband of their fishnets. you’d never seen so much money in your life, you couldn’t imagine the volume increase they must experience at night. 

“Call him Björn.” 

she’s barely audible over the thundering bassline, and you lean closer to her to hear her clearly. “What’s that?” 

“Don’t ever call him Ironside,” she smiles over her shoulder at you, “He hates that nickname.” 

“Oh.” you frown; it seemed like a pretty cool name to you. “Why does he hate it?” 

the girl stops just shy of the bar and turns to look at you, offering you a knowing smile. “You really have no idea where you are, huh?” 

the way she asks, as if she’s already read you even better than you could’ve read yourself, makes you gun shy. “A strip club?” 

the expression that crosses her face tells you, briefly, that there’s something more than just exotic dancers here, but before you can ask any more questions, a broad shouldered blonde with a thick beard and piercing cerulean eyes stomps past you; you can almost swear the ground around you shakes under the weight of his boots. “‘Scuse me,” he spits, muscles in his arms bulging as he carries two large crates of with bottle necks poking out. you quickly side step, hoping to avoid being trampled by the rude giant. instead, you slide against the bar to watch him, elbow resting on the surface of it. 

flipping the barrier up, the man shuffles behind the bar and slams the crate down on a counter near the sinks. he then takes notice of you, stationary and watching him. “Can’t sit at the bar without a drink in your hand.” he says, then nods to your escort. “Get this one for me, would you?” 

the nameless shot girl beams. “She’s not here to drink, she wants to see the owner. About a job.” she puts extra emphasis on the word, and his brows quirk upwards. 

he, then, gives you an all-too abrupt once over, before replying with, “Not gonna happen.” 

you blink, dumbfounded,  but quickly fumble to extend the folder out to him. “Wait, that's it? I have my resume right here. Just take a look at it, please, I have references and everything.” 

he doesn’t reach for it, but instead, snorts to himself, arranging the bottles on shelves behind the bar, his heavily muscled back turned towards you, bulging out of a thin, grey tee. “You brought a resume to a strip club? Now, it’s a hell no.” 

“Please,” you beg, leaning over the bar. “I’m desperate. I really need the money. I’m a good worker.” 

“Look around my club and tell me what these girls and you have in common.” 

you already knew it wasn’t much, but you did as instructed and looked at each dancer. each was unique and mesmerizing, no two the same. some were covered in tattoos, others pierced or incredibly fit, most wore frowns or permanently angry expressions. “I don’t know, they all seem pretty different to me.” 

with a heavy sigh, Björn turns to look you up and down again. there’s a hint of a twinkle in his deep blue oceans that gives you a temporary glimmer of hope, as if for a moment, he can see how badly you need this job. “Exactly.” he replies, deadpan, resting both meaty palms down on the bar. “These girls, my girls, they’re not fuckin’ Girl Scouts. You have to have balls to work here.” 

you can feel your ears getting hot, angry and flustered that this man isn’t taking you seriously because of the way you look. “I have balls.” you snap, but it sounds weaker than you intended; more like a pouty child. 

“Come on, Björn!” the petite waitress boosts herself on to the bar, perching there beside him, but she keeps her eyes on you. “Look at her, I think the boys will like her-“ a sharp glance from the owner halts her sentence, and she instead starts a completely new thought in half a moment, as if she knew instantly, with just one look, that she’d struck a raw nerve. “I mean, we could always use extra shot girls, right? She could train during week days, like a trial run.” 

Björn looks utterly unamused, his lips twisted downward in a much too natural grimace. “Don’t you have a job to do?” the jut of his chin sends her hopping to her feet, shifting the tray, and sauntering off, but not before she can give you an apologetic smile, as if to say that she tried. then, he turns his attention back to you. you have no idea why, but when his eyes search your features, you find it hard to breathe. “Sorry, but you’re just not what we’re looking for.” 

“How do you know until you give me a chance?” you persist, sliding the folder in front of his on the bar. “I’ve been a waitress for a long time, I’m good at it-“ you pause, realizing he’s no longer looking at you, but past you, over your head. “Just look at the damn resume!” you had no intention of snarling the request, and you could tell by his sudden response that he wasn’t expecting it. you could’ve also sworn he looked almost impressed for a split second. 

Björn retrieves the folder, opens it up, and pulls out the resume, for once interested and willing to give you a shot. 

or so you thought. 

“You have a shit ton of references, and an impressive job history,” he mumbles to himself. you just knew he wasn’t talking to you. 

“Thank-“

“Not that any of that really makes a difference, though. Not here.” 

he shreds it, right in front of you; Björn tears your resume to pieces and tosses it in the garbage can directly below the bar top. “The answer’s still no, kick rocks, Princess.” 

a screech interrupts the rejection, and your head whips around to see a partially clad female with her hands full of garments and mascara streaked down her cheeks in black tears, bolting through the door and outside. 

“God dammit,” Björn pinches the bridge of his nose, eyebrows furrowing, before he casts a glance at the bouncer approaching. “Again?” the bouncer only nods, and Björn slams his fist down on the side of the bar. “All right, I’ll handle it. You,” throwing a finger in your direction, he nods towards the door. “Have a nice day.” somehow, he even managed to make that sound cynical. 

and just like that, he stomps away to deal with the sobbing employee, and you’re left, sulking your way to the door, feet dragging and heart heavy. 

he’d really decided, so quickly, that you would make a terrible employee, and that had never happened to you before. your work ethic was flawless, you were personable and polite, and he didn’t want you to be any of those things. you couldn’t figure it out. 

you push open the exit, and you’re hit with strong rays of afternoon sunshine, and welcome the fresh air that fills your lungs. it was a blessing after being cooped up inside with all of the cigar smoke. 

“- I don’t care, Björn. You said this wouldn’t happen again. I don’t want to do any of it anymore.” 

“Look, you know how they are. They talk, but in the end that’s all I’m gonna let them do in here. I can’t do shit if you go to them for extracurricular activities. Do you like the money or not?” 

your feet stutter, hearing the commotion directly to your right. you don’t want to seem like you’re eavesdropping, but you can’t help but chance a glance to them. Björn is leaning, arms crossed over his huge chest, against the side of the building, piercing blue eyes narrowed. the employee is smoking a cigarette, and you can see her digits shaking as they grip the butt. “Yeah, the money's good, but I can’t…” 

“Excuse us,” a couple takes over your attention as they slide beside you, trying to exit the club, and you’re temporarily distracted, offering a small smile as you shift to the side wand give them a soft apology for being in the way. 

“...Ivar. He scares the shit out of me. I can’t, I’m done. I quit.” the girl tosses her cigarette to the sidewalk and smashes it with her heel, before strutting off to a waiting sports car.

“Jesus Christ,” Björn grumbles to himself, unaware of his audience, and runs a hand through golden tendrils, turning back to the door. it’s then you realize you were still standing there, watching the display, and Björn had just caught you red-handed. “Enjoying the soap opera?” 

you blush, shake your head, and quickly avert your gaze. “Sorry, I was just leaving, actually.” after all, he was the one who told you to go. 

“Wait,” he calls out; his tone is different. defeated. you look back up at him, but remain quiet. “You catch all of that?” 

“Enough, I guess.” you answer with a shrug. “She seems really upset. Will she come back?” 

“Nah, not this time.” Björn sounds certain. “She’s done for good.” shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he lets out a heavy, exasperated sigh. “Can you start tonight?” 

your eyes light up, an excited smile decorating your face. “You’re giving me the job?”

Björn rolls his eyes, but nods. “I’m giving you a chance. A big fucking chance to impress me. Shot girl. Sofie will train you tonight, but if you don't have it down by the end of your shift, you’re done.” 

you feel as though a well of happiness has just overflowed in your belly and, on impulse, you throw your arms around his thick neck and hug him tightly. he feels incredibly warm and smells surprisingly enticing, you note. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I won’t let you down, I promise.” you exclaim, but it’s not long before he pries your arms off of him, still looking stern as ever. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he murmurs, and you notice his expression changes ever so slightly, as if something he was trying to hide rose to the surface for a split second before he pushed it down again. “Now get outta here, before I realize this was a terrible fuckin’ idea.” 

you breathe in deeply, face still lit up like a Christmas tree and you nod, reaching in your bag for your keys. “Right, yeah, of course!” once they jingle in your grip, you leap down off of the sidewalk, practically skipping through the parking lot. you’re too giddy, too excited. you felt more accomplished than ever before, and the fact that you got to see that smug asshole eat his own words, well that was a bonus. still, you can’t help but wonder what that girl was so distressed over. replaying the conversation -or, what you caught of it- in your mind, one word stuck out. Ivar. 

you turn to look back at the entrance; Björn was pulling open the door. “Hey, Björn?” he pauses, and looks back at you. the expression on his face lets you know he’s waiting to see what you want. “Who’s.. Ivar?” 

he doesn’t answer, but even from where you’re standing, you can see the muscles in his jaw tense up. “Your shift starts at nine.” 

                  VIKINGS MASTERLIST / TAGS & FAQ

forever tags ; @the-awkwardly-hot​

vikings tags ; @satchie666​

ivar tags ; @youbloodymadgenius​

[crowsandmurder]

[ Continued from HERE -- > @princeubbe ]

“Like what? I simply wonder what goes through your mind sometimes to make you so angry. Do you ever feel joy these days Brother?”

Bjorn wished he had an answer to that. Things had not been easy, of late. The war, against their idiot brother, any of it.  Joy. What is joy, Ubbe? The boy I raised as my own is dead, although he has joined his father in Valhalla. My new wife was lost, and we have no home. Tell me, what is there to be joyful about, Ubbe?” 

[crowsandmurder]

Things in the Ecbert tag: More people would love Ecbert, if this show didn’t make you root for the Vikings.

Me: I loved Ecbert and am Team Saxon and basically, hope that all the Vikings die?

[crowsandmurder]

Hvitserk Tags

Hvitserk  ✖ (Aesthetics)

Hvitserk  ✖ (Thoughts)

Hvitserk  ✖ (Character Development)

Hvitserk  ✖ (Crack)

Hvitserk  ✖ (Headcanons)

Hvitserk  ✖ (Photos)

Hvitserk  ✖ (Starter Call)

Hvitserk  ✖ (Verses)

VERSES:

V: Third Son of Ragnar [Hvitserk up until he stayed with Ivar] – Hvitserk is the second son of King Ragnar and Queen Aslaug.  As a child, he was often seen with his brothers.  As he grew older, he enjoys the things that many his age do, although he struggles with feeling in his brother’s shadow and the fact that his father disappeared. After jumping off the boat, he stays with Ivar, despite the fact that Ivar had already killed their brother Sigurd.

V: My own identity [Hvitserk Season 5 - Current Timeline] -- Staying with Ivar seemed like a good plan, at the time. Now, it seems not as much of a good plan. He fought against his brothers Ubbe and Bjorn and sided with Ivar in the Civil War, but now Ivar is King..and thinks he is a God. Hvitserk thinks his brother is crazy, but he stays. Kattegat is his home and he is trying to figure out his path. 

V: Time is Flexible [Modern] -- To be Decided

V: Everything is not as it appears [AU]  Various AU verses.

[crowsandmurder]

❝ what are you preparing for? ❞ (björn)

   Things should be calming down. They should. He’d been made King. Did he want to be King? He did not know. He had many things he wanted to do. He wanted to preserve his father’s legacy.  Right now, his fate was in Kattegat. But, he wasn’t stupid. He knew Ivar would return.  He knew that there would be trouble. He was tired of fighting with his brothers. He was tired of them fighting.

   “With Ivar’s location unknown, we should always be preparing, Ubbe. We, as the sons of Ragnar, as brothers, should also be united, not having petty arguments. You need to make up with Hvitserk.” 

@ullv

[crowsandmurder]

❝ You have something to prove. So do I. ❞ ( For Björn maybe )

Vikings Starters – > @gonebror – > Accepting!

His father was dead. He was still trying to wrap his mind, about that whole thing. They would avenge him. That was what his father wanted, and it was what they would do as sons. They were the sons of Ragnar.  He was the eldest son of Ragnar and he was not going to let Ivar try to take control. That was not what was going to happen. He had told his brothers that he would command the Army, and that was just how it was.  He did not care that his mother had killed their mother, right now. What mattered was that his father was dead. He kept saying it over and over in his mind. His father was dead. It upset him deeply. His brothers had scattered after his lecture, but he saw Ubbe from a distance.

He went over to him. His problem was not with Ubbe. He know that he wanted Ragnar avenged as well. But, his guard was up and he took in his brother’s words.

“What do I have to prove Ubbe? I am the oldest son of Ragnar. I do not have to prove that I should lead the army, especially not to Ivar. You are the oldest, as well. You do not need to prove anything. We have to show those Christians, that they do not get to kill our father.”