#Hvit try

[artistsfuneral]

I'm always a sucker for Witcher fics where someone comes to the keep really young (maybe Eskel?) and they don't speak the common language at ALL and it's even more terrifying and confusing what's happening to them. Cue lots of friendships and learning how to find their place!

ohohohohohohoho yesssss ❤✨ also isn't it canon that Eskel came from "mountain people"? It would make sense that toddler Eskel only speaks Norwegian Northern (also I started learning norwegian for no reason whatsover, so I am going to use my 100 words)

deaged!Eskel, shy toddlers, softe Geralt and awkward Lambert

It was common knowledge that most of the collected artefacts in the dungeons of Kear Morhen were cursed in one way or another. So it wasn't all that surprising, when one of them started to omniously glow once Lambert got too close to it by accident. It also wasn't very surprising that the youngest wolf was quickly shoved away by Eskel, kind, protective Eskel, who promptly ended up at the center of the curse's magic.

The tiny toddler that appeared where the full grown witcher once stood, was unexpected though. Lambert had been prepared to fight a monster, but his drawn sword prooved to be rather counterproductive when it was noticed by big brown baby eyes that immediately turned teary at the sight of danger. The loud crying that followed strangled Lambert's heart painfully.

"Oh, no, no, no! Please don't cry, I don't know what to do, when you cry!" Panicking, Lambert did the only thing that came to his mind and he reached out to pick the tiny toddler up. The witcher looked helplessly around the room, as if any of the artefacts could provide him with the secret knowledge of childcare. Eskel didn't stop crying.

"Uh- Let's get you to Geralt, okay? You like Geralt right? You're best buds, he will know what to do."

Alarmed by the sounds of a crying child, Geralt was already halfway down the keep, when Lambert reached him. The - currnetly not - youngest wolf hastened his steps and practically shoved tiny Eskel into Geralt's arms. "Lambert, what on earth?" Adjusting his hold instinctively, Geralt started to rock the toddler in his arms, one hand gently petting the mop of unruly brown hair. "Uh- that's Eskel," Lambert managed to blurt out.

"Eskel?"

"He got cursed. Down in the dungeon. I didn't know what to do, not sure he recognized me." Geralt hummed. "If it truly is Eskel, then we might have a small problem."

"What, why?" Lambert's eyes darted down from Geralt's to look a the small figure sniffling in the witcher's arms. "He's was born up north," Geralt explained slowly, "didn't speak a word of common when he first got here. It took him years to learn." Lambert's mouth went dry.

What Geralt didn't seem to know was that Lambert could in fact speak most northern dialects. But what on earth could he possibly say to a tiny child he already managed to bring to tears seconds after meeting him? He took a shaking breath, "Går det bra med deg?"

Eskel's reaction was immediate. His little head snapped up from where he had been hiding it under Geralt's chin and he stared at Lambert with wide eyes. "Hva?"

"Går det bra?" Lambert repeated, trying his best to ignore Geralt's confused stare. Between snotty sniffles a small voice that sounded nothing like the Eskel they knew, the child answered. "Ja, bra."

Lambert let out a sigh of relief. "He says he's alright, probably just got scared." Geralt's shoulders relaxed visibly. "Didn't know you speak northern."

"Wasn't exactly needed until now."

"Can you ask him, if he knows who we are? Does he recognize us at all?"

Lambert blinked at the other wolf. Angry, at himself, for not thinking about asking such an important question. He focused his gaze back at Eskel. "Vet du hvem jeg er?" A wide, toothy grin spread across Eskel's little face. His chubby little finger pointed straight at Lambert and he exclaimed proudly, "Ulv! Rød ulv!" The action was quickly followed by a similarly enthusiastic pointing, this time at Geralt, "Hvit Ulven!"

Lambert chuckled. "I think he'll be alright."

[bjornswoman]

My prisoner

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hello! I've been away for a while and I'm sorry about it. I wanted to come back with a fic about Bjorn, but this one was something that I was thinking for a while and I decided that this one will come out first. I want to believe that vikings fandom are still active. Anyway, till next time have fun and take care.

Pairing: Modern!Hvitserk x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, drama, romance, fluff.

Summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks free from prison.

Warnings: Drama, mentions of prison break, mentions of death.

Life had never been easy for you.

When you thought that things started getting better, something really bad happened and you were back to zero.

Life had shown you its worst face so far.

You had lost your parents at young age. You were struggling all alone, dealing with two awful jobs and an ex that was more pain in the ass than all the bills you had to pay at the end of each month.

Your life became much more difficult when you decided to get involved with the most infamous family of the city — the Lothbroks. These men — the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, a mobster — they run a dangerous gang the one their father had founded. You couldn't even want to think about all the illegal stuff they were doing and the police was after them.

The bad thing in that was that the police had you under their microscope, as well, because you were Hvitserk Lothbrok's girlfriend — ex girlfriend.

And things became even worse than before when they put him in jail, after your break-up, and he decided with the help of his family to break free.

The police was following each movement of yours. They were tracking your phone number, listening to all your phone calls, expecting to learn about your ex. They had even someone outside your apartment to watch you over.

You told them over and over again that you had nothing to do with that filthy man anymore, but they wouldn't believe in you.

You let a long breath leave your lungs as you were cleaning the bar counter.

"What is it again?" One of your coworkers asked. Well, Hope was more than a coworker, she was your friend.

The only one you could talk to and not raise any suspicions. You were friends with Torvi — the wife of Ubbe Lothbrok — and Gunnhild — the wife of Bjorn Lothbrok — but you couldn't see them, it was too risky to get in touch with any member of the family. Of course, the police kept a close eye on them, but still you couldn't have any kind of communication with any of the family.

"It's the usual problem with... him." You said as you were placing the clean glasses on their place behind the counter.

"The police is following me around like I'm some kind of a bloody criminal because I made the mistake to start a relationship with a mobster." You spoke angrily and threw the towel on the counter. You were so angry, so frustrated with all this mess. Your hands run through your hair.

"I know that this is difficult for you, but it is going to end, sweetheart. It will end when they get this son of a bitch back where he belongs — in prison." She said wih an encouraging smile on her face and her hand rubbed your back friendly.

Only those words weren't encouraging for you. Deep in your heart you didn't want him to get caught and sent back inside there again. It hurt you to think that the man you loved were inside a called cell.

It was true that he wasn't the best guy in the world, not even close to that. Hvitserk had done some bad things that he wasn't proud of and he had regretted of doing. He had a good heart and wanted to be better.

You forced something that was the resemblance of a smile on your face and followed her to the kitchen to get the orders and walk them to the costumers.

"Did he try to contact you after you know?" Hope asked you suddenly and you nodded your head as an answer — no he didn't and it quite hurt you. But you had broken up before he got in.

"At least, he didn't dare to after all he did."

You frowned when you heard the tone of her voice. Hvitserk had never hurt you. In fact, the reason he broke up with you was because he didn't want to involve you in his mess, in the shit he was deep into, but it was late for that.

"He didn't harm me." You muttered when you got back with an epty tray in your hands.

Hope rolled her eyes and continued to place the drinks on her tray. When she finished, she turned her eyes on you.

"But he harmed other people. He is a criminal. Prison is where he belongs." Those where her words before she waltzed through the tables with her tray in hands.

Her words were harsh for a man she didn't know at all. Yeah, Hvitserk did awful things, but he wasn't just that. You had seen the good side of his. You had seen the little broken child in him. The one who felt full when you showed him your love and affection. The one who tried to shield your heart even from him.

The rest of your shift went by as usual. There weren't many clients as a typical Wednesday night. But things changed when you got that damned phone call.

It was a couple of times before the closing time when Torvi called. You didn't expect her to, you didn't expect anyone from the family to reach for you. When you saw her name on the screen, you used the back door to get out and answered her call.

"Torvi?" The tone of your trembling voice gave away easily to level of your concern about Hvitserk. Torvi wouldn't call if something bad did not happen. Something had happened. Something that you wouldn't like to hear.

"What happened? You know that it's not safe to speak through the phone." Your body was pressed on the wall next to the door and your hand was clenching the phone.

"Something came up which we don't know whether it stands or not, but I had to inform you because Ubbe said that they are 80% sure that it's true." You felt the despair and sadness in the tone of her voice as well as you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

Hvitserk — your mind screamed but your tongue didn't. You waited to hear more before you even try to fight back your emotions.

"Tell me for the love of Gods! What happened?" You were almost crying now.

Torvi took a deep breath before her next words.

"They found a body — a body in a really awful state. It's unrecognizable. At the time were are talking they are in a lab waiting for the results of the DNA analysis. But, Ubbe said that they are almost sure that the body belongs to Hvitserk. He didn't contact the brothers after the escape, they thought he was hiding and would eventually come out, but he didn't."

You couldn't hear the most of it. You collapsed on the floor halfway and closed your eyes forcefully in an attempt to fight the waterfalls of tears to fall. Your free hand moved on your face and it touched your forehead.

You stopped hearing. You were crying. He couldn't be dead. Hvitserk couldn't die. Not like this.

"They killed him and threw his body in a ditch in a middle of nowhere. The people who killed him are the same who framed him with this murder he didn't commit." She continued, but you couldn't hear anymore. Your brain couldn't process all these. You couldn't process the fact that Hvitserk was dead.

"Hvitserk..." You muttered his name like it was a prayer between your sobs.

"I know it hurts but you—"

You didn't let her finish. You ended the damned call and let your phone fall from your hands. You hid your face in your palms and let yourself cry and mourn the love of your life — the only person you were able to love this much and loved you back in his own different way.

After some time, you gathered your broken heart and the pieces of your body and got in. You wiped your tears and cleaned your face with some fresh water. You had to stay strong for a couple of times and then you could cry all your wanted.

At the closing, you took out the trash in an attempt to cry to yourself for a bit in the darkness where no one could see your tears for the man you loved the most. You were so sad and shattered that you didn't notice a black figure approaching you.

You only noticed when one of his hands was on your mouth and the pushed you in a dark corner. You eyes opened widely and your heart beat went faster until you saw the face of your captor.

He let you see his face. He took his hood off and got rid of the black scarf which was covering his mouth and nose. When you could finally see him, he freed your mouth and you gasped.

"You!" You whispered out of breath. Your hand run on his features that you missed so much. The last time you could saw him in person was many months ago, almost a month before he got arrested.

"Shh!" His index finger was on your lips.

"Don't shush me! I thought you were fucking dead! Torvi called an—" All your whisper-yelling stopped when his lips fell violently on yours. The very thing he did every time he wanted to get away feom scolding. But this time you weren't going to get mad or stop him, until not as long as you could breathe.

His skilled lips were moving just perfect on yours and the facial hair he had were just perfect. His hands grabbed you by the waist and you placed your own hands around his neck. Your body was pressed on the wall by his own.

This kiss felt like salvation. It was like you were whole again. It felt like you could breathe even if you didn't. You didn't want it to stop, but it had. After all, you two had many things to discuss.

Much to your displeasure, it stopped because of the lack of air to your lungs. His hands left your waist and moved on your face where he caressed your cheeks softly.

But that loving moment didn't last long, before he noticed, your hand collided with his cheek violently and his head turned at the side.

"Was that necessary? Why did you do it?" Hvitserk whisper-yelled. His palm was on his hurting cheek that had your mark on it, along with the mark of your nails.

"You scared me to fucking death with your bloody lies. Plus, you were a total dick to me when I called you in jail." You spoke and gazed at him. You had missed him terribly.

"Hey!" With that Hvitserk grabbed your face between his hands. Your faces were dangerously close for once more. "I told you, you shouldn't have called me there. As for my little lie, it was my only chance to see you." You spoke and left a soft kiss on your forehead.

"And how would that be? The police is out there waiting for a stupid movement of yours — exactly like this one — to get you. They are after me — following every step of mine. You shouldn't be here." You told him and tried to leave him in the darkness. You didn't want him to get caught because of you.

Hvitserk didn't let slip from his hands. His strong grip held there in from of him.

"It's dangerous, Hvitserk." You whispered at him.

Hvitserk smirked and one of his hands placed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"See that was exactly my plan with all this dead body lie. Indeed, there was a body, but not mine — obviously — and we used it to mislead them. They will try to find the body and they won't pay attention to you. At least, not as much as they did." He explained and you smiled.

"Ivar's plan?" You asked all smiling and he smiled back.

"Like you don't know the answer to that."

After that, you stayed there gazing at each other, having only the stars witnessing this moment between you.

"Why did you break my heart?" You asked as your eyes were only on his. You wanted to hear the truth coming out of his mouth.

His green eyes were glowing under the lights of the stars.

"I – I don't deserve you. You are kind and sweet and so angelic and I am the exact opposite. I am so filthy that I'll defile your purity. I've done things that I'm not proud about — bad things."

"Then why are you here now?"

Your question made him think about it himself once more. His eyes were looking only deep inside yours. You could feel his pain when he talked about the stuff he did, you could feel everying through those eyes. It hurt you to think that he felt this way for himself.

"Behind the bars, in that cell, the only thing you can do is thinking. You're thinking about all the right and wrong decisions of your life till the moment you got in — especially the wrong ones keep you up all night. And what kept me up was you. The thought of never seeing you again, never hearing your voice, you laugh, your scolding. I just couldn't live knowing that I hurt you. I love you. My life without you is meaningless."

"Just never push me away again, okay?" You spoke as your hand wiped a couple tears away from your eyes. Hvitserk help you and when there weren't any more tears in your eyes, he caressed your skin softly.

"I love you, you idiot." You muttered and kissed him again. This kiss was so much different from the previous one. It soft and loving.

"The plan is to never let you slip away from me ever again." He spoke as he was caressing your hair.

"And how is that supposed to happen?"

"We will leave together here and now."

You frowned. You weren't expecting him to say something like this. You pushed him back, so you could face him.

"Wait... You want us to leave everything behind — our lives — and run away. This – this is....." You couldn't form a proper sentence. You were to process his proposition.

Kattegat was everything you knew — the place you called home. Everyone you knew was here and by that you meant your friends and some very distant relatives. Apart from your life, his life was in this place. His family, his job.

"(Y/N), there's nothing for us here. If I stay, I'll go to prison and I won't be able to hold you ever again. I will leave at the end of the day, there is no future for me in this city." Both of your hearts were beating fast at the thought that you would never see each other again after this night.

It was true that there was nothing here for you, only these two jobs that you hated. You couldn't know what future had in store for you, but if you let Hvitserk leave alone, you would hate yourself for the rest of your life.

Hvitserk's hand grabbed yours and closed it in both of his palms, but before that his finger gripped your chin and moved your head in such position that you could look at each other.

"The clock is ticking — the time is running fast. You have to give me your answer now. Are you coming with me right now?"

His eyes were begging you to say yes.

His heart was begging you to say yes.

But your mind was the problem. Your mind was hesitating to follow him wherever he was going to take you.

You closed your eyes for a moment. You couldn't choose between your heart and your mind. A whole war had broke inside you.

"(Y/N)?"

At the sound of your name on his lips you opened your eyes.

"I will come wherever you are willing to go. I can't live without you, my love." You told him and hugged him tightly.

Hvitserk wrapped his hand with yours and pulled you close to him.

"Are you sure? If we leave now — together — there's no coming back. We will be both fugitives." He told you smirking.

You chuckled when you heard him.

"That's a risk I'd love to take for you."

With those last words Hvitserk and you run away from the police and the city forever.

[ouroborosorder]

what do you think the most stellar examples of arknights' vfx are?

Okay so there are a lot of examples, so I'm going to try to keep my description of each one short. Unsurprisingly, most of my favorite effects are on more recent, paid skins for fan-favorite/meta 6* operators, since those are the ones they put their whole ass into.

Executor the Ex Foedere. The way that it weaves blasts of light and the shapes of Sankta wings into his shotgun blasts is absurdly creative. Perfect for a saint of Laterano.

Passenger's Skin. Specifically his S3. Stellar lightning is a weird pitch, but it's so fucking beautiful that it works. This is the effect that convinced me that I might enjoy being a VFX artist after all, not fucking kidding.

Jessica Alter. Look. Her skills are underwhelming as fuck, they're all the same shot effects every time. But. Do you genuinely understand how amazing these gunshots look? Do you know how hard it is to make a stylized gunshot that doesn't just look like magic? These are breathtakingly good. The glass shattering on hit genuinely made my jaw drop when I first saw it.

Eyjafjalla the Hvit Aska. It's hard to make a healer that genuinely looks unique, but Eyjalter's dreamlike colors and flat effects manage to bring the visual style of So Long Adele into every map and make it look reasonable with the artstyle.

Kirin R Yato. Monster Hunter's effects are extremely distinct, and seeing them recreate MH's style in Arknights' is really lovely. My one sorrow is that I wish there was more lightning, since like. Kirin.

Lin. Glass is a legitamately hard thing to pull off because it so often just looks like crystal, but leaning more into glass dust and shards makes it work perfectly. Her skin is also quite pretty, but it loses the glass look that made me love Lin to begin with.

Reed the Flame Shadow. Holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit fire made of flowers?? The way the fire looks secondary to the whole thing while being undeniably present is stunning. Her skin is nowhere near as good tho.

Penance. Penance has such a stunning aesthetic that it immediately endeared me to her. Her vibe of gilded thorny chains carries to her effects and it works.

Texas the Omertosa. Fucking. Duh. It's hard to make a normal sword swipe look unqiue but Texas nails it. Her skin's effects are even more stunning, even if the animations are awful.

Minimalist. It's hard to make effects that are minimalist and still look good.

Specter the Unchained + Skin. I need to specificially call out her skin. Her skin may be one of my favorite pieces of effects at all time. The colors, the aegirian poetry as part of the visuals, the stellar water, it's all practically perfect.

Kazemaru. A sleeper hit!! She's got a lot going on with the "paper-controlling ninja whose clone has a completely unique aesthetic" thing so it seems like she might be too busy, but it manages to pull it off. Shoutouts to her clone's spawn, which actually does the slash mesh slightly wrong intentionally because the ring look actually helps a lot.

Goldenglow. It's rare that I see a lightning character and say "I have never seen anything like that before in my life" and Goldenglow's pink and blue stylized lightning genuinely shocked me.

Ling (Does it Wash The Strings). If you want my choice for best VFX in the game, this would at least be in running for first. It's flashy as hell, but manages to not be overbearing. The S3 dragon attacking with mountains rising from the earth alone is stunning, but the normal attack impact is my favorite part of the entire thing. It's so simple and elegant and stylish.

Amiya Guard. Amiya's Guard form is the combination of Amiya's Arts, Sarkaz Arts, Ch'en's swordfighting, the normal AK Arts and sword design languages, and a tiny bit of weird space tech to represent the Precursors. And it manages to come together to something that feels really cohesive while still drawing attention to how incongruous these elements are. The effects actively tell the story of Amiya - a girl with big shoes to fill, carrying the legacy of so many.

Ceobe, and her Unfettered Freedom skin. At this point in Arknights' lifespan, they had a much more defined visual language for how Casters look compared to melee units. Ceobe, being a Caster who throws fucking enchanted melee weapons instead of casting spells? So she combines their languages, with the buildup and trails of Arts casters and impacts of melee units, it's subtle and I love it. Unfettered Freedom deserves a special shoutout because I love geometric magic so fucking much.

Conviction's Skin. Why is this so good they're a joke operator.

Dorothy's Skin. I may have mixed opinions on this skin, but the effects are objectively stunning. I am personally heartbroken that she doesn't have the sand anymore, but that's a personal thing. I also don't like that her S3's range is obfuscated by the explosion but again that's nitpicking.

There's probably WAY more that I've missed and even more I cut for time, but those are my favorites after browsing the list of operators and skins for like, two hours straight. If there are a few I missed... Look, this list is this long already.

Also note that I didn't really list enemies or anything other than playable operators. Their enemy effects are usually... servicable, with a few standout exceptions with Talulah and Frostnova.

[greythroat]

In the middle of the nuclear winter that was Harold’s boss fight, two people and a robot, all in coquette hazmat suits, walked through the snow and ice.

Harold squinted at one of the hazmatted people. “You don’t look like you’re from here,” he said.

“Don’t be xenophobic!” Eyjafjalla said. “Lingyang fits right in. Even better than those people from ‘Earth’.”

Yeah, it was Lingyang from Wuthering Waves. He had come to a universe where his looksmaxxing and bonesmashing prowess would be better appreciated. If he had been born in the Arknights universe, he would never even have had to humanmaxx, so it was an ironic twist of fate.

“You see, after Sesa irradiated half the landship by fucking a toaster, Closure pivoted into the medical department. She’s by now moved on from removing people’s extra limbs and eyeballs to aesthetic services, hence the new and upgraded Lancet, aka Looksmaxxing-2,” Eyjafjalla explained, presenting the coquettely hazmatted (is that even a word?) robot, now equipped with a photo of Adriana Lima taped onto where she should have a face.

Looksmaxxing-2 scanned Harold up and down with her cameras. “You have been mogged. Diagnosis: Negative canthal tilt, prey eyes, dark circles, receding hairline, asymmetrical face, short legs. Recommendations: Eye lift, cheek filler, undereye filler, lip filler, hair transplant, rhinoplasty, buccal fat removal, Botox, Ozempic—“

“Wait, wait, wait, what does this have to do with me?” Harold asked, trying to not seem offended. He thought he was pretty DILFy, but apparently not according to this robot. “Why are you here?”

“Logos just announced he’s entering the duffel bag, so I need a new job. I’ve decided to become a medic.” Eyjafjalla said gently, walking closer to Harold.

“Oh, I could give you some advice—“

Eyjafjalla melted his face off. As he collapsed to the ground unconscious and on fire, she took out from her pocket a photocard of Wonyoung from IVE but it was that fan edit of her giving the middle finger. I’ll insert a picture so you can imagine the right thing.

“The power of our Lord and Savior Jang Wonyoung compels you to give your power to me,” Eyjafjalla chanted, holding the cursed artifact over Harold’s body. A stream of glowing energy transferred between them as the nuclear energy of Harold’s AOE Arts nukes became Hvit Aska’s 5x global heals.

The newly created Hvit Aska, Lingyang, and Looksmaxxing-2 went on their merry way. At least Lingyang had the mercy to throw snow over Hank’s body to put out the flames.

[kindauglypikachuicon]

Arknights’ 4th Anniversary special gacha, Cloudtop Lucid Dreams, featuring Eyjafjalla the Hvit Aska and Swire the Elegant Wit

The only new operator I got from the free ten pull was Poncirus

I might try to spend some orundums to get Eyja-berry cause she’s a very useful medic or hope I somehow get her from the free pulls

Welp I hope to whomever wants to pull in this banner that you guys get what you want in few pulls ;3 🙏✨

[hollowichor]

"i'm trying to be the man that you wanted to see" Hvitserk to Lark when he's getting clean

"And I am so proud of you for trying!" Lark reaches to take Hvit's hands in her own. This time has been hellish. She hopes that he's turning towards the better road. "I see you continuing to try, and i thank the gods for each day they give you."

Her smile's tired. All her energy is spent either on keeping Hvitserk alive and safe. 'It's worth it,' she tells herself. 'He needs to live.' But is her wellbeing disappearing an appropriate cost? If it is her fate, then yes. She was never the shieldmaiden type. Violence isn't beautiful in her eyes. So if this pleases the gods, she'll continue her work.

"Ivar would be proud to see how you've pulled yourself up again."

[katfett]

ROXANNE (MOD!HVITSERK X OFC)

A/N: Will have multiple parts. Essentially Vikings meets Sons of Anarchy. This just happened when I was trying to write to my other stuff.

HAVEN’T TAGGED ANYONE, IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO A TAG-LIST, HOLLA AT ME.

Summary: Roxanne gets stood up at the altar, instead of a reception, her girlfriends take her bar hopping for beers, dancing and singing. She got more than she bargained for in the form of Hvitserk when they wind up in the bar of Lothbrok Auto, the clubhouse of the Vikings MC Mother Charter.

Warnings: Smut.

Tag List: @bloooferladyy

Music: There is a playlist I listened to while I wrote this, from the obvious ones to some weird ones just cause they help me focus.

Playlist found here.

CATCH UP: PART TWO PART THREE

***

PART I

Bar hopping hadn’t exactly been on her to do list. Heck, her to do list today consisted of getting married. It hadn’t been checked off. Roxanne had been embarrassed when she realized he had not shown up. Cold feet had been the excuse from his family. Yeah right.

“Come on Roxy, no dwelling on it,” Tatiana said, taking hold of Roxanne’s elbow. Her friend had been quick to act earlier when they had realized she wasn’t getting hitched. Her bridesmaids had promised her a night of bar hopping and karaoke.

That’s where Roxanne found herself, in some bar in a small country town, about to be dragged onto the stage to sing some terrible pop song. She wasn’t nearly as drunk as she needed to be for this. Stage fright was such a bitch.

“Can we just go do shots at the bar?” Roxanne pleaded, trying to turn and book it to the bar. Tatiana wouldn’t let her go and she whined as Sally helped to turn her. Fiona helped them drag her up onto the stage, even as Roxanne protested the entire way. It probably looked hilarious to the people watching.

***

Hvitserk watched as Ivar lined up his shot. They were playing pool in the back, Ubbe was locked in a kiss with Torvi as Sigurd watched the game. He’d opted out, disliking the way Ivar always managed to beat him. Hvitserk turned and motioned for a sweet butt to hand him his beer. She did so. Hvitserk took in the main floor of the bar.

Ragnar’s place hadn’t changed much over the years, Bjorn had seen to that. Being born to the founding member of the Vikings MC had its perks. They were patched young; it was the only life they knew, and they embraced it wholeheartedly. It gave them time like this, where most of the other patched members kept their distance.

It was a little more packed than usual, they’d been celebrating Floki’s release and return to the fold so there were people mixed in with the club he didn’t know. The bar operated like any other, until you passed the bathrooms. The back corridor into the members rooms beyond was off limits to non-club folk. There usually wasn’t an issue with Whitehair usually acting as a bouncer back there.

He chugged most of his beer as he watched the stage, the karaoke thing had been his mother’s idea. It’d been dead most of the night, but he quirked an eyebrow as he watched three women pull another up onto the stage. They weren’t sweet butts, he knew them all, by name and cup size. He smirked as he watched the three brunettes shove a microphone into the blonde’s hand as they kept her in place.

“Hvitserk,” Ivar called, signaling it was his turn but Hvitserk waved him off, leaning against the railing that separated the pool tables from the main floor. He settled in, nodding as the sweet butt switched out his empty bottle for another one.

This was going to be good.

***

Roxanne growled at her friends. They were the best, and the worst. The microphone in her hands was awkward, she could just drop it, but she realized that would likely turn more attention on them. Her scrambling to get off the stage likely had been a sight. Tatiana had body blocked her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and dragging her back.

The three of them were pointing to the machine where the songs to select from were resting. Riley rolled her eyes. She looked at the songs - Teenage Dream by Katy Perry, fuck nope. I want it that way by backstreet boys, eh, fun but this bar didn’t seem like it would enjoy that. Her eyes scrolled across the next few songs and then her eyes lit up. Oh, that one.

Wild Thing by Tone Loc.

She smirked, if they were going to make her do this, she was going to get them back. Tatiana, who had a sixth sense for when Roxanne was going to fuck with their plans, reached out and hit a different song. Apparently, she’d been taking too long.

Gaping, offended and dramatic as fuck when drunk, Roxanne slapped her hand looking at her incredulously. The beat to Rihanna’s Rude Boy kicked in and Roxanne couldn’t help herself, her hips started moving with the beat. She was going to kill Tati for this. Her friends loved this song, Roxanne loved booty shaking to this song. Not singing it.

Tati wrapped herself around Roxanne and kissed her cheek before forcing her to move with her and Roxanne almost blushed at the whistles and catcalls as they moved in tandem. They had danced many a times to this. Grinding against one another wasn’t the embarrassing part, they had an audience. A bar full of guys in leather.

***

Hvitserk was grinning as he watched the four women grinding and singing, albeit a little terribly, to the song. This was far more entertaining than he’d thought. The blonde and one of the brunettes were grinding against one another. They got lost in the song, not even singing as they nearly put on a whole other show for the boys. The club members were cheering the four on. Hvitserk glanced across at Sigurd.

“Hey bro, you got the music lined up?” When Sigurd frowned at him, Hvitserk pointed to the four on the karaoke stage. “Who needs strippers when you can have drunk city girls.”

Sigurd laughed. Ivar rolled his eyes from where he was engaged in a conversation with Ubbe. “I think I can manage something.”

***

Okay, Roxanne had to admit she was having a blast. The song ended and so did the dancing - to a loud chorus of boos. Instead of the next karaoke song starting up though a heavy rock song filled the bar.

Roxanne grinned at the familiar beat. She loved this song, especially since it shared her name. Fuck it, it was meant to be her wedding night, she would’ve been having her first dance right about now. May as well dance like the single woman she was.

***

Hvitserk was hypnotized. He had been watching the blonde bump and grind to every stripper song he could pump Sigurd to play. She was shorter than her friends, her denim shorts fitting snugly, showing off the curve of her ass as she swung her hips. Her tank top was gaping at the sides, revealing a white lace bra. Long curly hair was damp and frizzy. Hvitserk wanted to bury his fingers into it as he rode her. The sweet butt at his side had gotten bored when he didn’t show her a hint of leaving with her to his rooms in back and turned her attention to Sigurd, joining him by the controls for the music.

Hvitserk finished off the last of his beer as the girls finally tired and started to climb from their stage. A few of the boys helped them down.

Hvitserk ducked under the railing, setting his empty bottle down and running a hand across his jaw as he watched the petite blonde move through the boys heading for the bar looking like she was on a mission. He grinned, perfect.

***

Roxanne leaned over the bar, the woman behind it nodded at her as she asked for water. She was buzzing. The combination of drinking and dancing was doing all the right things to make her happy.

“Hey Hvit,” the bartender greeted with a smile and Roxanne’s brows furrowed. The woman was looking behind her. Turning, Roxanne was taken back by the man standing incredibly close. Hot damn. He was a good head or so taller than her; he was fair, a little bit of stubble and a mop of dirty blonde hair braided back from his face, tied into a man bun at the back and the sides shaved. He had tattoos covering his neck and arms. He was staring at her and Roxanne was all too aware of his deep blue green eyes. It was intense. She didn’t know it was possible in real life for someone to fuck you with their eyes, but he seemed to be doing just that and Roxanne felt a shiver creep down her spine.

Hello hunky biker boy.

The telltale leather vest over his white shirt gave him away. Roxanne smiled at him, not saying a word, and turned back to grab the bottle of water on the bar. If her dancing hadn’t dehydrated her, he certainly had.

“You sure like to grind these hips.”

Another shiver crept along her as he spoke, his deep, raspy voice accented and showing through. It was the hand resting on said hips of Roxanne’s that got her attention; strong fingers dug gently into her hip as the other moved so he could lean against the bar and by default her, given she was standing between them.

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” she said and managed to dislodge him by grabbing her water and ducking under his arm. Tati and the girls were across the sea of bodies.

“Wanna give me a private one?”

Roxanne actually laughed as she took a sip, spraying water back into her bottle at the terrible pick-up line. She glanced at him over her shoulder. He was leaning casually against the bar, watching her. “You wouldn’t be able to keep up.”

The challenge hung between them and the biker disarmed her by gracing her with a smile that was simultaneously cheeky and devilish. How did someone look so cute and dangerous at the same time?

“I think you’ll scream for me first,” he said calmly. Roxanne blushed; people could hear them. The bartender was smiling, trying to appear busy as some of the men around them laughed. She turned, determined to ignore the biker, and ducked into the sea of bodies. She didn’t get far. An arm wrapped around her elbow and she nearly dropped her drink only a hand caught it and then she was pulled back against a warm body.

He didn’t let go of her hand holding the water as he crowded behind her, grinding a little against her ass. Roxanne licked her lips. This was so not how she pictured tonight going.

“Come on, I dare you,” he whispered into her ear.

Hvitserk could feel the tremble in her hand as he spoke. He was loving every second of this. He’d been determined to, at the least get her name, and maybe a quickie in the bathroom but the challenge hanging between them made him want more. He could drag this out.

“I think I’m super drunk,” she mumbled, he grinned having only just caught it.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, his free hand dropping to her waist, slipping beneath her tank. Her skin was warm to touch, and so soft.

“Cause there is no way a hot biker is offering to fuck me senseless the same day I get stood up at the altar.”

He paused and glanced down at her with a quirked eyebrow as she turned her head to look at him a little. He could see the flush deepen in her cheeks. She was serious. He grinned and pried the water from her hand, someone took it from him, and he brought his hand up to tip her chin towards him.

“You got lucky, you didn’t marry an idiot then,” he muttered and then kissed her.

Roxanne whimpered into the kiss. Holy jeez. Her knees were weak from a kiss. She was drunk, very drunk apparently. Not enough to be blackout and not understand what was happening but with her lowered inhibitions she gave in far easier than rational, sober Roxanne would. Heck, sober Roxanne wouldn’t have even been here. His fingers ghosted along her jaw, the hand touching her bare skin at the waist of her shorts was drawing lazy circles across her flesh. The kiss itself was slow.

He didn’t seem to be in a hurry and Roxanne leaned into the kiss. His lips were soft, full, and tasted sweet. Her fingers curled into his leather vest just behind her hip. His hips ground into her, and Roxanne was sure that any man like this shouldn’t exist. His fingers massaged her neck and she moaned, moving in slow motion with him to the music pounding through the speakers. If this wasn’t get you in the mood to fuck music, Roxanne didn’t know what was.

She almost whined as his mouth broke away from hers, his eyes assessing her intently in the dim light.

“Please tell me there is a room somewhere,” she said. He grinned and nodded, loosening himself from her so he could steer her towards the bathroom hallway. Roxanne wasn’t a prude but the idea of fucking in a toilet stall was, well it wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.

He didn’t turn into the bathrooms though, instead he led her deeper through the hall. Coming to a door with a large biker guarding it, Roxanne was surprised when the older man simply moved to the side without a word, just ducking his head in a nod as the biker guided her into another dimly lit corridor.

The door shut behind them and the music became a distant pound. He had his hand joined with hers and a little worried now they were alone, she clutched at it and stepped in close to him, letting him guide her through the hall, past a few rooms. One door was ajar, and Roxanne saw a man with a woman tied up in the strangest position.

At the end of the hall, he turned left to a door. He let go of her hand as he fished into the back pocket of his baggy blue jeans. Roxanne was really doing this. Tati hadn’t stopped her, and why the fuck would she? It was Roxanne’s night to just do whatever the heck she wanted, right?

The soft click of the lock in the silence brought her back to the moment and she glanced up as he looked at her over his shoulder. He was broad compare to her; he was also the total opposite to what she was usually attracted to. Maybe that was why drunk, heartbroken Roxanne was so keen to strip off and let him fuck her.

The door opened and he stepped to the side and motioned for her to step inside. Roxanne let out a soft breath and stepped through the doorway.

The room had a large bed against the opposite wall, the sheets were all messy. A few pieces of furniture were scattered about. A large flag of what she assumed was their biker iconography hung above the head of the bed. She was a little surprised when she noticed that the ceiling had a mirror over the bed. Interesting.

Roxanne turned to face the biker. She hadn’t even got his name. She assumed Hvit was a nickname, they usually gave themselves nicknames, right? He was leaning against the now shut door, tossing the keys onto the chest of drawers to his right.

“I’m Roxanne, by the way,” she said.

He grinned; he really needed to stop doing that. It was enough to make her belly giddy. “Like the song. Hvitserk.”

She nodded, softly testing his name out on her tongue. They stood in a heavy silence, the only sound the bass reverberating from the bar.

“So-“ she started, tapping the sides of her thighs.

“You’ve never done this.”

Roxanne paused, pursing her lips, and looked at the floor, looking at him from beneath her lashes. “A one night stand? No.”

He was smiling and suddenly all her drunken courage seeped out of her as she realized he wasn’t nearly as drunk as she was. “Take off your shirt.”

Roxanne blushed, the tank didn’t really cover much, she used it at the beach a lot, but she’d been hot in the summer night and just thrown it on as Tati had pushed her out the door of the hotel room.

She crossed her arms over and grabbed the ends. He didn’t move, just watched her. This was far more intense than if they were just sloppily going at each other. She tugged the tank up, sliding out of it and looking around for somewhere to toss it. There was a chair nearby. She chucked it over the back of it, then glanced at him.

For a moment she was kind of glad she hadn’t stripped off the white bra and underwear that matched because it made her boobs look incredible and she knew it.

***

Hvitserk had asked for a private show but his fingers itched to touch. Usually, he’d be balls deep in a sweet butt already. The dark grey tank was pulled off and he smirked. The white bra was expensive, this was what her husband would’ve been looking at if the fool hadn’t left her at the altar.

Her tanned skin stood out across the delicate white. He really wanted to touch.

Pushing himself off the door, Hvitserk shrugged out of his kutte and draped it over the back of the chair with her tank. She had her hands buried in the back pockets of her shorts as she watched him. She looked like an angel and he was about to make her fall.

***

Roxanne could feel her heart racing in her chest as Hvitserk laid his leather across the chair, he was careful with it. She smiled at the way he handled something so simple with such care.

“Come here.”

The soft order was direct and straight forward. Roxanne closed the distance between them and stood toe to toe with him. His hands sunk into her curls and she moaned softly as his fingers kneaded her head for a second. His mouth crushed hers, the slow kiss out in the bar was gone. He pulled her in close, holding her captive as he devoured her mouth, teeth biting at her lower lip.

Roxanne moaned into the kiss; it was incredible. When Mike had kissed her, it was usually sloppy. Her fingers found the end of his shirt and she dragged it up his belly, slipping her hands underneath. Hot, hard abs met her fingers, and she traced the sculpted six pack up to his pecs. One of his arms dropped to encircle her waist and drag her completely against him, crushing her hands between them as he slid his tongue into her mouth. Roxanne’s knees buckled as his tongue found hers. Jeez, this man knew exactly what he was doing with his mouth.

She dug her nails into his chest beneath his shirt, grinning as he hissed.

He pulled back just enough to reach over his head and tug his shirt off. Roxanne’s eyes took in the sight; underneath that baggy white shirt was a hard, tattooed body. His arms and shoulders were well defined and that delicious six pack dropped down into a deep v that disappeared beneath the waistband of his briefs which rested a little above his jeans.

Roxanne let out an appreciate breath. “I might have bitten off more than I can chew.”

He chuckled, those hands finding the curve of where her ass met her thighs and effortlessly lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around that trim waist as he peppered kisses along her jaw while taking the few steps to the bed. Instead of laying her back against it, he sat himself down, so she straddled him.

“Wanna dance for me?”

She thought back to her words out in the bar and groaned, dropping her head back as he chuckled. She had pretty much thrown the gauntlet down.

It was hot though; he wanted a private striptease.

Roxanne wasn’t used to drawn out foreplay. She was used to a rough blow job, Mike didn’t know how to pace himself and then he’d be on her like a horny teenager. He hadn’t changed in the four years they’d been together. Roxanne realized she had accepted it because she thought she’d been head over heels. Now, she had this hot biker asking her for a lap dance and realized that there was a lot she had been missing; like the way Hvitserk had stared at her in a room full of people like he wanted to drag her to the floor and thoroughly fuck her there.

“There’s no music in here,” she said, glancing round.

He smirked, leaning back on one hand, and shoving a hand into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out his phone and unlocked it. The glow of the phone light highlighted his handsome features.

How did she get so damn lucky on one of the most humiliating days of her lives? A hot biker had intentionally sought her out, turning her drunken partying to forget the misery of this morning into this. She had no doubt he could pull women in easily, the calm casualness of him was gravitating and women likely felt the same thing she did when he focused on them. He tapped away and Roxanne realized just how comfortable she was, half undressed sitting on his lap. Yeah, she snorted internally, she was definitely drunk.

A moment later, Ginuwine’s Pony started up. He looked at her from over his phone, the smallest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he locked his phone and tossed it to the floor.

Roxanne slowly peeled herself from his lap. He leaned in towards her as she slowly rolled her hips, resting his hands between his legs. Those eyes were so damn intense and made her feel like a fucking million dollars as she slowly ground to the beat. She turned away from him, her fingers unbuttoning her jean shorts. She shimmied her hips, leaning her ass back to him a little as the fabric slid down and then pooled at her feet.

***

Hvitserk watched as she pulled herself off his lap, he put his hands between his legs to keep them off. Her hips moved to the beat and his fingers itched to reach out. He didn’t though even as she turned away from him. That ass in his face, even clad in denim was giving him a hard on. She wasn’t his usual type, he was used to tall, leggy slim brunettes and yet, as she slid those shorts down, he swallowed as that firm ass was revealed. Fuck, he swore to himself. The thong matched the bra. He wanted to bite the globe of flesh that shimmied in front of him.

She straddled him, her ass pressing back into his crotch and Hvitserk moved his hands, reclining back on them as she grounded against his hard on. That curvy figure wriggled and ground so damn perfectly against him. Her legs were draped over his and Hvitserk spread his knees, spreading her own.

Fuck not touching. He leaned back further and reached round to grasp her throat, his hips grinding up into hers.

“Open your eyes,” he said as they ground against one another to the song.

***

Roxanne was loving the feel of him, loved the way he ground up into her, the way he gripped her throat gently. She did what he said and opened her eyes. The mirror. Fuck it was hot. She could see herself grinding against him, her legs spread over his as he watched them through the mirror as well, he smirked, that grip on her throat squeezing softly before it slid down over her chest.

Roxanne was a little discombobulated by the fact she was watching his every move above them. She moaned as his fingers grazed her nipple through the fabric of her bra, arching her chest into his hand.

His thumb rolled over the hardening bud as Roxanne writhed across him. The song forgotten as he started to touch her.

Her hands steadied herself by his hips on the bed. Her ass pushed back into his groin, where his hard on was becoming evident. She was swimming in a haze of alcohol and pleasure when he suddenly pinched her nipple and she squealed. He chuckled by her ear as she comically slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Like that?” Hvitserk inquired, his eyes still on the mirror above them. His hand moved up to where her hand covered her mouth, gently prying it off. “I wanna hear you. Pinch your nipples, Roxy.”

Roxanne swallowed thickly, her hands moving to her breasts. She whimpered as she rolled her thumbs across the sensitive buds, pinching like Hvitserk had done.

“Fuck,” she breathed as her eyes slid shut, her head finding purchase in the crook of his neck. A strong, rough hand settled on her knee as she continued to stroke and pinch her nipples. It was more erotic having him watch her do it to herself she found. The hand on her knee slid up along her thigh. Right to the top of her thigh.

He was going to win. She was not up to this challenge. He was too good at this. Roxanne’s belly was warm, liquid heat flooding her system as she touched herself with him watching her. His thumb drew idle circles across the top of her thigh.

Roxanne stopped grinding as she focused on her breasts, letting that delicious heat between her legs build. She hadn’t even gotten her underwear off and she was a mess atop him.

“Lean up,” he said. Roxanne did and felt his fingers undoing the clasp of her bra. The straps loosened and she rolled her shoulders with a grateful sigh. She pulled it off and threw it across the room. Large hands cupped her breasts and she moaned as his thumbs found her nipples and stroked and pinched as his lips brushed the back of her neck. Those hands were delicious. She covered them with her own, encouraging him. She was close, and he’d only been touching her nipples. Roxanne needed his hands elsewhere. She dragged one of his hands down her belly, shivering as his hand delved beneath her underwear without her needing to voice what she needed.

She gasped as his finger slid along her clit, then groaned when his fingers went further, sinking between her wet lips and thrusting into her. She murmured out a yes as he alternated between pumping into her and stroking her clit.

His teeth scraped across her shoulder. Roxanne was panting, legs trembling as he pinched her nipple and stroked her clit. With a curse, she crumpled. His legs trapped hers from closing as she came, twitching as she whimpered, trying to squeeze her legs shut.

***

She hadn’t screamed for him. Yet. He hadn’t expected her to orgasm so quick. How long had it been since she’d had a good fuck? A while by the way she was reacting to him. He loved the way her body shuddered against him as he brought her undone. He hadn’t gotten to see her face as she was facing away from him, her head leaning into his shoulder.

He slowly dragged his hand from her underwear. She collapsed back into his chest and he grinned. She was a cuddly little kitten post orgasm. He pressed a kiss to her temple as she came down.

“Wow,” she whispered. He chuckled, the deep rumble under her back shaking her a little.

After a moment, she slid off his lap to kneel between his legs. Her fingers went to his belt as she peered up at him from beneath her lashes. Fuck, she looked good like this.

Hvitserk leaned down, his fingers grabbing her chin and pulling her to him for a kiss. He stood, letting her shuffle back on her knees as he pushed her hands from his belt. He undid it and then his jeans were undone and dropping to the floor. He was hard, painfully so. Delicate, soft fingers tucked into the waistband of his briefs and then they were pulled down. His cock sprang free and he groaned softly at the release.

***

Roxanne was impressed. She glanced up at him from where she knelt. He had his head titled back, and she leaned in then, grabbing his thighs and pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to the underside of his cock. He was hard and ready, but Roxanne was determined to give as good as she got from him. His grunt above her was rough as his cock twitched under her mouth. His head dropped forward to his chest and he was staring at her. Roxanne kept his eyes locked with hers as slowly licked up along the underside of him. There was a strangled noise from him, and Roxanne smirked at him as her fingers closed around the base of him.

Her grip firm but not intending to hurt, stroked along him, her thumb gliding over the weeping head. What surprise her was the sudden whimper from the man above her as she closed her mouth around the head of his cock, her tongue sweeping over it like she was trying a lollipop.

“Fuck.” Fingers buried into her hair as she slowly swallowed him; relaxing her throat to try and take him all in. Those fingers tightened on her hair as she hummed around his cock.

***

Hvitserk nearly wept as the hum in her throat caressed his cock. She was good. Fuck, he’d gotten head before, but this was so different. There was no hurry to it, no quick get him hard and then get him in her. No, Hvitserk was going to enjoy this. His legs trembled as she came off him, only to swallow him again, her teeth just gazing the underside of his cock.

He moaned, tightening his grip on her hair. He needed to thrust, he needed to move but he was trying to so desperately to let her set the pace of this, knowing he could hurt her if he was rough. Her tongue stroked him, and he whispered out another curse. He needed to fuck her, now.

***

Roxanne winced a little at the grip in her hair as she tried to sink back down on him. He held her in place as he pulled back and then he was dragging her to her feet. Roxanne moaned into the bruising kiss. He sought her hungrily, hands slipping to her hips, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her thong. He rolled the fabric down her hips all the while kissing her like a hungry predator.

She quickly toed off her booties and kicked them away as he let her underwear drop to the floor around her feet.

His hands found her ass and thigh and he was lifting her up. She gripped his neck and shoulder, her thighs tightening against his hips as he turned and rolled her beneath him onto the bed. He settled down over her and Roxanne sighed into the kiss, massaging the back of his neck as that slow and unhurried pace washed back over them.

His head bowed to her breasts; bruised, swollen lips found her nipple. She moaned, suddenly grabbing at the sheets under her as he slowly moved down her body, planting open mouthed kisses across her chest and belly. His tongue carved a hot path from her navel down. Looking down, Roxanne found the sight of a muscular, tattooed biker settling his head between her thighs erotic in a way she couldn’t place. She wasn’t used to getting head, Mike just didn’t like doing it, thought it was too difficult. Now she had a gorgeous man burying his face between her thighs like he was right at home.

***

She was tense, he could feel it in the way her thigh muscles bunched by his head. “Relax,” he murmured, turning to press his lips to her inner thigh. “Lay back.” He looked down the length of her body to her face. She looked hot; swollen pouty lips, flushed cheeks, and messy curls. She still looked uncertain but whatever internal debate she was having with herself, his words got through and she slowly relaxed back into the bed.

***

Roxanne stared at the mirror above them. Okay, she got why he had it. The sight of her, stretched out across the bed, clutching at the blankets with her thighs slung over Hvitserk’s shoulders as he nipped and sucked his way along her thigh was fucking hot. She could only see the back of his head and his back as his muscles flexed as he moved. She adored his back. One of his arms curled around her thigh and held her steady.

His mouth came to her clit and Roxanne’s hips bucked off the bed. She blushed as she watched his head twist to glance up to her face. She wouldn’t look; she would just keep her eyes on the mirror. His chuckle was sexy as he returned to her clit.

Roxanne moaned as his tongue slid along her. Fuck, he was good at this. She clutched hard at the sheets he slipped two fingers into her and she swore as her hips bucked into his mouth.

***

Hvitserk smirked against her, enjoying the way her thighs squeezed against his head. He held her thigh in place so she couldn’t run from him as his tongue circled her clit. Her hips bucked against him as he pumped his fingers into her, curling up against her. She was a hot mess above him, whimpering and moaning as he kept going. Her hand buried into his hair and Hvitserk grunted against her tug but didn’t stop. He was going to make her scream; he’d promised her she would, and he wasn’t going to fail on that.

***

“Fuck,” Roxanne breathed. The sight of herself completely at his mercy in the mirror was incredible. The licking of heat spread from her belly and out over her body. Her toes curled as Hvitserk sped up, guessing she was close. She gripped his hair tight and cried out as she came, her legs trembling and her hips rocking into him. He didn’t stop and she whimpered as he carried her through her orgasm.

She was shivering as he finally gave her a break, his mouth carving a hot, wet path across her belly. Her body was heavy; a combination of the alcohol in her system and the two orgasms were making her tired. He hadn’t even fucked her. Roxanne glanced down at him; he had his head resting against her belly. She scraped her nails against his scalp and grinned as he shivered before glancing up at her. He was so incredibly hot as he pulled back from her. She let him go, leaning up on her elbows as she watched him get up and reach for his jeans.

He had his back to her, and Roxanne was able to admire his ass as he rummaged through a back pocket. She leaned back on the bed, staring up at her reflection in the mirror. Her fingers absently trailed over her stomach as she listened to him rummaging around.

***

Hvitserk glanced at her, she was laying back, staring up at her reflection. He grinned; that mirror was the best damn thing he’d done to this room. Her legs were drawn up slightly and he watched her. She was breathtaking post orgasm, and he was a little surprised at how he couldn’t imagine the guy who’d stood her up and left her at the altar. How? Why?

He pulled the condom from out of his wallet and tossed them back down to the floor. The soft thud drew her attention. He grinned, holding up the packet. She blushed and he was taken back by the sweetness of her.

“I have a request,” she said into the quiet between them as he stood there.

“Oh? What would that be?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest as he stood profile to the bed, waiting for her to answer.

“Can you wear your vest?” It was a whisper. She was shy about asking. If only she knew just how many sweet butts demanded he leave it on while fucking them; it wasn’t that weird, most women got hot under the collar because of the kutte, the bad boy image that the club members projected. He’d experienced it since he’d been a prospect and the girls at high school had shown him the effect it had.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, and nodded. “Your wish, is my command.”

He grabbed his kutte as he came back to the bed, the condom packet between his teeth as he shrugged the leather back on.

***

He stood at the bottom of the bed, shrugging into the leather and she let out a shaky breath. It was so damn hot to see his bare inked skin against the black. He put his knee down onto the bed between her legs and his hands found her knees. He still had the condom packet between his teeth as he came down to her, his fingers smoothing along her thighs. He was still hard and ready to go.

She reached out and pulled the packet from between his lips as he got within reach. She opened it and tossed the packet aside as he knelt over her. She reached between them, her fingers closing around him. He hummed in the back of his throat as she stroked him slowly, enjoying the way his hips rocked into her hand. She rolled the condom onto him and kept hold of him. He watched her, his eyes hooded as she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him down to her. He was so gorgeous and for just a night, she got to be with him. She wouldn’t see him again, and so Roxanne committed every little detail she could to her memory and prayed she’d remember it when she was sober.

He came down and kissed her gently, his lips brushing across hers as he smoothed her hair back from her face and she smiled against him, releasing her grip as he sunk down into her. She moaned, her hips shifting to meet his as he pulled back a little. He stopped kissing her, his forehead resting against hers as he sunk back into her. He groaned, his head dropping to her neck. His hand held her hair gently as he kissed her throat, searing himself deep in her. Her hands slipped under the leather and found his back, digging in and holding him close.

Roxanne felt so good, loving the way he filled her. He ground his hips against her slowly.

“Fuck,” she breathed as he hit that deep spot in her that made her gasp. He didn’t lean away, using his elbow to support some of his weight as he kept up the slow pace and grinding. Roxanne was swimming. This was unreal.

***

Hvitserk was kissing her neck, his teeth nipping at her flesh as he ground against her. She felt so damn good. He didn’t usually go this slow but fuck if he wasn’t going to savour being balls deep in this messy, thoroughly fucked angel. He sought her neck out, his teeth leaving love bites across her tanned skin. She clung to him and for a second Hvitserk felt a pain in his chest. Fate was funny in the way it had pushed them into this and yet, it was only one night. They were two different people, worlds apart and nothing good could come from him dragging her into the life he and his family lived. He didn’t want to rush and let her go. He needed this. Her thighs clutched at his hips and he kept his grip on her hair. He didn’t want to let her go.

***

Roxanne was not use to slow sex. Mike had preferred finding the end as quick as he could, only concerned about getting off. This was incredible; Hvitserk was incredible. She slid her heel over his ass and dug into the firm flesh. He grunted as she raised her hips to meet him. His thrusts quickened as he buried himself in closer against her. Roxanne moaned as his leathers brushed against her nipples. She pushed him then, shoving his weight to the side and followed him. He grunted as his back hit the bed and he looked up at her as she threw her leg over his hips.

***

Hvitserk grinned up at her as she grabbed his kutte for purchase and sunk down onto him, her head dropping back as she moaned. His hands found her hips, helping her set a steady rhythm and he groaned, leaning back to watch the mirror above them. She was leaning back, giving him the best fucking view as she rode him. He groaned as she sunk down and then ground her hips. His fingers dug into her flesh as her speed quickened.

***

Roxanne bit her lip as she rode him; hands holding his leathers and bracing against his chest for purchase. He grunted and bucked his hips to meet hers, the frantic pace they were reaching a signal he was close to the finish. She leaned over him, her teeth biting at his lower lip. He returned the kiss, fighting her for dominance.

He sat up then, his arms sliding around her back and holding her to him. Roxanne leaned her head back as his teeth sunk into her throat, keeping hold of her as he took control. It was animalistic the way he suddenly gripped her, holding her throat in his teeth but not hard enough to hurt. Her hands buried into his hair, messing up his man bun and braids.

He groaned her name, long and deep suddenly and his movements became jerky as he came.

***

They collapsed backwards, Roxanne dislodging herself so she could sprawl out beside him, staring up at their reflections in the mirror. He was breathing raggedly and smiling. Roxanne grinned, leaning against his side. She bit his chest playfully and he hissed, chuckling.

He rolled away from her for a second, taking off the condom before coming back to her.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and made her look at him. “Are you okay?”

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah, though I should probably go find Tati and the others. We need to head home.”

The smile slowly faded from that handsome face and she internally cringed, realizing she’d broken the spell clinging to them in here. “I’ll help you round them up.”

He surprised her when he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead before he pulled away and climbed from the bed, pulling his vest off as he went to grab his briefs from the ground. Roxanne had to reason that she needed to break this, whatever it was, so she could go home, back to whatever was waiting for her there. She climbed from the bed and located her underwear, dressing quietly as he did.

***

Hvitserk found a packet of smokes on the chest of drawers by his keys and pulled one out, lighting it as he pulled his kutte back on. He could hear Roxanne dressing behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He wasn’t angry that she’d brought them back to reality. She was right, she needed to go back to her own life and the sooner she did it, the easier he figured it would be. He wasn’t used to this; the wanting someone to stay.

Margrethe, his only true serious relationship had been teen angst coupled with her being a sweet butt that knew how to play club members like a fiddle. She’d done a number on him, and Ubbe. Sigurd didn’t speak of it, but they all knew he still saw her when he ventured to the chapter in Florida where their mother had sent her to avoid the drama of the sons of Ragnar in fighting. Hvitserk didn’t miss her, he’d just never really trusted someone again.

Sweet butts tried to get close, but he kept them at arm’s length. He glanced over his shoulder at where Roxanne was shimmying into her jean shorts and felt something deep in him feel sick. She wasn’t what he had expected when he’d first seen her tonight, but jeez, he’d loved every second of it.

It was going to hurt watching her walk out of here.

***

Roxanne let him lead her back towards the bar. He stopped at each door, knocking and asking for the girls for her. Imagine her surprise when a blonde appeared in the doorway, sans everything but a pair of boxers as Sally and Fiona appeared behind him half naked. Biting her lip to stifle a smile, she watched as the blonde spoke to Hvitserk in a language Roxanne didn’t know. Hvitserk looked comfortable, not worried about the two barely clothed women as he spoke between smoking.

“Sorry ladies, guess the nights over,” the blonde said, pouting at her friends who giggled and they disappeared back into the room to get dressed.

Hvitserk glanced at her. “He’s my brother.” She nodded slowly.

“You two look nothing alike.”

He grinned and jerked his head down the corridor. “Come on.”

***

Hvitserk helped her find Tatiana. Her best friend had taken to helping the woman on the bar clean up some of the chaos about the bar. Sally and Fiona reappeared, clothed with Hvitserk’s brother and Tatiana gave her a wide smile as she saw them approach. She linked arms with Roxanne, giving her a raised eyebrow as she glanced at where Hvitserk was talking to the woman at the bar to organise a ride for them back into the city.

Roxanne whispered that she’d tell her back at the hotel.

Tatiana just smiled.

***

Hvitserk and his brother led the ladies outside. Roxanne was surprised to see a man sitting on a lunch bench out on the lot smoking. He didn’t speak to them. Hvitserk pulled out another smoke as they stood waiting in the cool night air for the taxi. Roxanne felt the chill and wrapped her arms around herself as she huddled with Tati while Sally and Fiona chatted up Sigurd, or so he’d introduced himself to her as.

She felt him behind her then and the warmth of his body drew her in; Roxanne leaned back into him a little. He talked causally to his brother over her head and she was reminded just how small she was compared to him. They didn’t touch each other, just stood as close as they could.

The taxi arrived way too quick. Sigurd helped Sally and Fiona into it, and Tatiana climbed in next. Roxanne’s feet didn’t move, suddenly anchored to the spot. This was it; this was goodbye. He hadn’t moved from behind her. His hand found her hip as he flicked the smoke he was finished with off nearby. Like inside when he’d followed her into the sea of bodies, he took her chin and made her look at him. His fingers ghosted over her jaw and she leaned into it, smiling weakly.

“You’re gonna be hard to forget,” he said softly and then kissed her. She pulled away first and nodded at him, letting out a shaky breath as she stepped towards the taxi. His hand stayed at her hip until she was out of his reach and then she was in the taxi. Sigurd shut the door for her.

“Wait, how are we paying you?” Tatiana asked suddenly to the driver and Roxanne smiled as it distracted her and pulled her attention away from Hvitserk standing outside, hands buried into pockets as Sigurd spoke to him.

“You’re not,” the driver replied. “I owe the club a favor. All things considered; this is a cake walk.”

Roxanne didn’t want to know; Sally and Fiona were talking. She’d gotten lost in her thoughts as the taxi pulled out of the lot and her heart sank a little as she glanced back to where Hvitserk had been standing to find him no longer there.

[vredeir]

emptysculs (ubbe) asked: " please don’t make me go. "

meme  /  accepting  :  @emptysculs

‘     IT  IS  YOU  AND  SIGURD  WHO  WANTED  TO  AIM  FOR  THE  LONG  GAME  TO  AVENGE  MOTHER’S  DEATH—     ’     &     though  sigurd  is  no  longer  with  them     &     may  have  received  the  honor  to  feast  with  their  father  in  the  halls  of  valhalla    (  for  he  fought  to  avenge  ragnar’s  death,  )     it  is  him  and  ubbe  who  did  not  want  to  rush  into  a  war  with  the  new  queen  of  kattegat.  it  might  not  meet  ivar’s  compulsive  nature  in  which  his  hatred  leads  to  rash  decisions     &     impaired  judgement,  but  as  long  as  he  must  not  make  a  compromise  regarding  the  result  (  lagertha’s  death,  )  he  is  willing  to  listen.  to  plot  their  revenge     &     to  create  a  foundation  to  work  with.  turns  out  the  saxons  played  along  beautifully  by  humiliating  both  sons  of  ragnar.     (  it  has  been  a  little  surprising  to  ivar,  but  makes  it  even  more  believable.  )     ‘     this  is  the  only  way.  no  one  will  question  whether  or  not  we  truly  have  fallen  out.  even  hvitserk  believes  it  after  all.  if  you  two  and  a  few  other  men  sail  back  to  kattegat  now,  she  will  not  inflict  any  harm  on  you  nor  consider  you  her  enemy.     ’     even  less  with  ubbe  who  has  always  been  driven  by  responsibility  and  who  seems  to  resemble  a  younger  version  of  their  father.  upon  watching  his  older  brother,  ivar’s  nose  wrinkles     &     he  presses  his  lips  together  in  a  slight  grimace  for  he  can  admit  it  is  still  a  dangerous  game  they  are  about  to  play     —     no  matter  how  hard  he  has  tried  to  consider  all  what  -  ifs     &     to  conclude  the  best  possible  strategy.     EVEN  THE  WISEST  PERSON  CAN  NOT  FORETELL  THE  FUTURE  IF  THEY  DO  NOT  HAVE  THE  SEEING  GIFT.     ivar  is  confident,  however,  that  they  will  figure  it  out,  together.     ‘     if  she  does  not  fall  on  the  battlefield  when  i  return  to  kattegat  to  conquer  it,  i  need  you  to  make  sure  we  will  not  lose  track  of  her.  i  need  you  to  keep  her  close,  no  matter  for  how  long.     ’

[underscorewriting]

Hi, would like to make a Vikings request, :)

Hvitserk x Female Reader / or Ivar x Female Reader.

I was thinking of something like she is trained by him (sword fighting/archery) but he has made it a point to give her tips on many other things, he watches closely what she eats, what she does, and he even tries to give her tips on women problems.

(Would love to have a really funny story). Thanks in advance :)

Greetings Pop.

I hope this fits your request! Tell me what you thought of it!

-Monique ^^

kind advice.

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: none, swearing?

977 Words

Being friends with Hvitserk was hard, harder than one might think. People believed that Ivar was the most moody and annoying son of Ragnar, but he was in fact not. Hvitserk was even worse when he helped her train to become a shield-maiden. Command after command, it was hideous, but she needed his help.

Ubbe was busy with his newly married bride, Sigurd wasn't very fond of her because she was friends with the brother he despised the most. So training with Hvitserk while Ivar watched and occasionally laughed at his older brother getting his ass handed back to him by a girl, was her only option left.

"Brother!" A chuckle made them both stop in their track, looking towards the boy distracting them. "You seem to be getting worse and worse every seconds." Another laughed followed, making the man underneath the girl grunt in annoyance. "Shut up, Ivar!" Getting off of him she smiled, helping him up, earning a smile in return.

Wiping his face he couldn't help but smirk, knowing how he went easy on her until now. "What are you smirking for?" A teasing grin on her face as she got back into her start position. "You're just gonna taste the dirt and mud again." Another laugh sounding from where Ivar sat, making Hvitserk roll his eyes, but not losing his smirk.

After another fight, she was the one on the ground breathing heavily under the smirking man. "You got a little dirt on your face." The teasing tone in his voice, making her angry and frustrated as she pushed him off. Laughing he got up, raising his hands in defense. Seeing her wipe her bloody nose, made him put his arms down, smirking slightly. "You always move the same way, each movement is predictable for your opposite. Try changing that."

After many tries and even more tries she finally was able to get better, a pout on her face because of how hard it actually was to beat Hvitserk and a frown on Ivars face because of how his brother did in fact not get his ass kicked by a girl. 

Walking back to Kattegad Ivar wouldn't stop complaining while Hvitserk continued watching her closely. "You walk weird." He broke his silence after a while, making the girl opening her mouth just to close it again, making him grin in return. "Maybe that's why you're fighting is so sloppy. Of course it could be-" He was about to continue his torment as Ubbe walked up to them, a kind smile on his features. 

"Mother wanted me to come get you to feast with her. You too." He nodded at the girl, giving her a playful grin. She admired Ubbe, he was almost exactly like she remembered Ragnar to be, back when she was little. Smiling back she walked quietly with the other boys to the great hall. A smile spread on Aslaugs face as she saw her sons and their friend enter. 

Seeing the food on the table everyone quickly set down, taking what they could, putting it on their plates. Hvitserk was smirking, studying the girls plate. "Maybe you shouldn't eat so much, it will slow you down if you get-" Sending him a sharp glare the girl swallowed the piece of fish she had in her mouth. "Hvits, I swear to the gods, if  you finish this sentence I will shove my sword so far up your-" A cough from Aslaug interrupter her, making her blush and look down, mumbling a quiet apology towards the woman. 

The grin on Hvitserk face only grew, seeing how he got under her skin as he himself finished his drink and food. As they all sat in different spots, busying themselves with anything they could. Watching her he realized another thing that would make her furious. With an even brighter grin he got up and sat down on a tree stump behind her. "Are you having your woman problem?" 

With confusion she turned towards him raising an eyebrow. "My mother told me about the problem a woman has once a month, you know bleeding out of your..." His face scrunched up in disgust. "Maybe that's ruining your fighting. I mean that must be bad, maybe you can stop that by cutting something out of you? Maybe you could go to the Seer and he could help you with that making it stop." 

"I'm asking this with all my love I have for you Hvits, really." A snort escaped her as she tried to suppress her chuckle. "Did Ragnar drop you as a baby?" His face turned into a slight frown. "Even if he did, I was still giving you good advice."  Rolling her eyes she got up with a chuckle. "Of course cutting out my uterus and not being able to have children anymore, sounds like good advice." A small smile now on his face too as he watched her get up.

Giving him a quick kiss she grinned down at him. "You're more attractive if you keep your mouth shut, Hvits. Same time tomorrow in the woods?" A small giggle escaping her as she turned away, saying her goodbyes to the others. Leaving an extremely confused Hvitserk back on his spot. Ivar couldn't hold himself back anymore, laughing after seeing his brothers red cheeks and wide eyes. "Gods! You should see yourself." A laugh now coming out of Ubbes direction, making Hvitserk blush even more and get up. 

"Oh shut up." He said, throwing a cup into each of their directions, only making them laugh harder at the lovestruck look on his as he walked out of the room. "She got him wrapped around her finger." Ubbe said after calming down a bit. Ivar frowned slightly, trying his best to hide it. "Who isn't..." He whispered quietly crawling back outside, leaving his brother by himself. 

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Vantalaður Ást

Ivar Lothbrok (Hvitserk) x F!Reader

Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15

A/N: So like I said, I wasn’t expecting any of this. Thank you @acrossthesestars for straightening up my words and gRaMmEr 😘

Warnings: I think Freydis needs a freaking warning. And Ivar. Also more mentions of drugs and feels.

Word Count: 3370

Tagging: @ivarisms @majesticwren @a-bang-for-your-bucky @youbloodymadgenius @kaybee87 @punkrocknpearls @istorkyou @smears-and-spots @bulmabhadie @southernbe @ironynoticony

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife crafted by Björn. Toying with your lip, you pressed it into your teeth as you watched Hvitserk, who was sitting opposite you. He was frowning, his hazel eyes glaring as his fingers flicked through his cards.

“You’ve…”

“I know.” You retreated, crossing your arms and trying not to smirk.

“Hvit…”

“Don’t!” He held up a finger, cutting you off which just made the desire to smile so much harder to resist.

“They’re all…”

“Oh I’ve fucking lost! Again!” He shouted, throwing the cards so they scattered over the board. The houses and hotels went flying in a shower of green and red. Lifting your arms up and tipping your head back, you gave a silent victory dance. “How do you fucking do it?”

“Skills, sæti. Skills.”

“You fucking cheat, more like!”

“That is incorrect! You know the trick is to land on Mayfair and Park Lane…”

“Stupid. Heimskulegur fokking leikur!” He gave the board a final shove, spilling your wad of notes into your lap and you gave him a smug look as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“Another game?” You called trying to keep the gleeful tone to a minimum.

“Only if it’s a different one! I’m going stir crazy stuck in these four walls.” He leaned easily against the door to the kitchen, taking a drink from a glass of water.

“You’re telling me? 25 days with no alcohol. That’s a fucking record for me.”

“How much longer?” He groaned, running a hand through his long hair. “They’re going to drop the keys and run right?” He was acting like he was fed up, but you knew he’d rather stay inside forever so he didn’t have to face life outside of these walls. Collecting the cards and carefully putting them in the box, you chose your next words carefully.

“You know you need to ease back in easily. Into work and everything. We’ve grown comfortable here and I’m…well I’m going to go home.” You noticed the hitch in your voice. Part of you didn’t want to go home. You’d enjoyed this time being locked in Hvitserk’s house. With him. True, some of it hadn’t been easy. Holding him and comforting him as he wept or taking his anger as he destroyed the place looking for drugs. You’d even hauled him away from the bathroom window, more concerned that if he made it out he’d break something rather than him actually escaping. The others had visited, everyone except Ivar. It was the one topic that hadn’t been broached by either of you; Ivar, or more accurately, the lack of his presence. You had dared to ask Ubbe about him once, but you were met with a noncommittal shrug and you decided at that moment that this wasn’t the time or place for your shit.

Maybe it was the guilt you still harboured. If you were truthful, the nightmares kept you tethered to that place of darkness. It was those nights where you crept across the landing and slipped into the warmth of Hvitserk’s bed. He never said a word, just welcomed you with open arms and let you fall asleep against him. The pair of you were close before, but this whole experience just raised you up a level.

“I know,” Hvitserk sighed heavily. “It’s going to be an adjustment.”

“You can ring me any time. Shit, just rock up at my flat or work or whatever. I’m not…I won’t leave you again.”

“This wasn’t your fault.” Putting the lid on the game, you shrugged slightly. There was nothing anyone could say to stop the bitter taste that rolled over your tongue at the thought. And in part, you found yourself blaming Ivar. You shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it.

“I wasn’t there,” you told him simply. He watched you wearily as you stretched up to put the game away. The shelf was too high and you let out a frustrated growl when he appeared beside you.

“Just ask,” he muttered, taking the box and reaching up beside you. He nudged into you, and you elbowed him in the middle, making him double over.

“Oh!” You cried out, a devilish smile creeping over your face.

“No, gods no!”

“I forgot how ticklish you are!” He vaulted over the sofa in an effort to get away from you, holding out his hands in a pleading gesture as you cornered him.

“Please, sæta…!”

“Begging can’t save you!” You told him with a wiggle of your fingers and he smiled, dropping his hands a little.

“You’re so fucking funny,” he whispered. A playful look danced in his eyes and you lunged just as he dodged to the side. You snatched at his top but he was too strong for you. He wheeled round, wrapping his arms tightly round you and lifting you clean off the floor. Shrieking loudly you kicked your legs, but there was no effort behind your cries. Laughter bubbled up from your chest when his fingers dug into your sides as he flopped back onto the sofa, taking you with him. You tried to crawl away from him, hating how this game had been turned against you so quickly. You wriggled desperately to escape his merciless fingers, the motion dragging the pair of you to the floor in a heap.

“Time!!” You gasped. “Time—out!” Instantly he stopped, his chest heaving beneath you as you relaxed against him, still giggling in little fits.

“We need a better safe word.”

“Oh, wow.” It was the only protest you could muster, still trying to come down from the rush the tickling had given you. “How about winner, because I win…Hvitserk!” His name squealed out of you as he continued his tickling attack, hunching over you as you rolled on the floor. Finally he got up, but you reached for his ankle tripping him up. Wasting no time, you crawled on top of him just as he rolled over, your legs caging his as you dug your own fingers into his sides.

“Ah fuck! You’ve—nails!” He yelled breathlessly, desperately trying to pull your hands out from under his shirt. He pulled his legs up, heaving you forward so you tipped over him, your hands flying to catch yourself. He reached out to steady you at the hips, the laughter dying between you as you took stock of your positions. Biting your lip, you couldn’t help but think how nice this was, then you remembered who it was beneath you.

“I’m hungry!” You blurted awkwardly crawling backwards and standing up. He jumped up as well, clicking his fingers, a nervous habit you hadn’t seen him do in ages.

“I’m going this way,” he murmured, curling a hand around the back of his neck and pointing at the stairs.

“Yeah,” the pair of you sidestepped the same way, giving a nervous smile. You went the other way, but he followed.

“Hvit…!” With a rough exhale he planted his hands on your shoulders, his body heat bleeding through your thin top as he spun you round with him.

“Now we can’t bump into each other.”

“Good thinking, Batman!” You exclaimed loudly, cringing when you turned away. What was happening? You never felt awkward around Hvitserk. Ever. He took the stairs two at a time, probably in a rush to get away from you. Grabbing your phone you rang Kat, biting the skin beside your nail as you waited for her to pick up.

“Hello!”

“Hi! Just thought I’d ring and catch up. How are Björn and the kids?”

“Good, the kids are so excited to see you and Hvitserk. What are you guys up to?”

“Up to?” You repeated.

“Doing? What are you doing?”

“I’m…standing in the kitchen. I was thinking about some dinner actually.”

“Have you had breakfast?”

“What?” Why would she be asking about freaking breakfast? You turned to look at the clock and your mouth fell open.

“You just saw the time didn’t you?”

“How is that even possible? I could have sworn it was past 10am. I’ve already beaten him at monopoly.”

“Cheated! She cheats!” You jumped at Hvitserk’s loud shout and gave a shrill giggle that was pumped with pure nerves.

“I can drop you guys some snacks? Do you need anything else? If you want, I could come and get you both…” you glanced up at Hvitserk but he shook his head. The tension was evident in his posture at just the thought of leaving the house and you knew it was going to be a rocky transition.

“No, just snacks are fine. Thanks, Kat.”

“See you soon!” Dropping the phone back onto the counter, you tried to gather the words that floated about your brain, but Hvitserk spoke first.

“Have you spoken to Ivar?”

“What?” You squeaked, having almost choked on your own saliva but needing to give a response at the same time.

“Ivar. Have you spoken to him?”

“Have you?” You snapped back, reaching for a glass and pouring some water.

“We text,” he answered, his fingers flexing against the underside of the counter and you scoffed. Loudly.

“You think I can get him to text me back? Do you think I want him to text me after…” her voice was always there. Gloating, gleeful and never ending.

“He said nothing happened with Freydis.” Nodding, you took your time with the glass of water. Each swallow felt like you were trying to push down glass rather than the clear, cool liquid. So he’d talk to Hvitserk about her but not to you?

“Did he explain the lipstick on his face?” Hvitserk’s head swung round so quickly you thought he was going to fall over.

“Huh?”

“That’s a nope.” You popped the p with your lips. You expected nothing less. The ache you’d been shunting all this time was threatening to engulf you again. The fine cracks that scattered over your heart began to widen and bleed, emotion oozing and permeating every pit of your soul. “It doesn’t matter,” you whispered but Hvitserk tutted.

“I’m going to…”

“Do. Nothing.” Looking up into those hazel eyes you knew so well, even as they wavered because of the tears that threatened to spill over your lashes.

“Sæta,” he whispered. Pushing away from the counter, he enveloped you in a deep hug, one that had your walls cascading down and you sobbed erratically into his warm chest. “It’s ok,” he breathed, resting a cheek on the crown of your head as he stroked your hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Wh-what for?” You asked, pressing the side of your face against his broad chest. Relaxing into the comforting feel of him, drinking in the scent that was so ultimately Hvitserk.

“Because you’re here looking after me. When Kat comes, why don’t you go see him?” Sniffing lightly you contemplated what he’d said. He was right, just because he chose to be housebound didn’t mean you were.

“I don’t think he’d want to see me.”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course he’d want to see you.” The pair of you stayed like that for a few more beats, the pound of Hvitserk’s heart making yours slow and calm and finally you managed to pull away. He spread his hands on either side of your face, brushing your hair back and holding you in place so you had no choice but to look up at him. “Go shower though because you smell—like skyr.” Jabbing him in the side, he yelped and released you. “Your fingers are so pointy!” He moaned but all you did was stick your tongue out at him before racing upstairs.

It was safe here. In your car. With all the doors shut. The building that Ivar lived in loomed in the middle of the street, wedged between two other blocks of flats. You could see the door and just beyond that was his front door. Fuck…fuck. Why was this so difficult? All you had to do was open the door, step out and knock on his door.

The outer door to his building opened and you dropped down in your seat like a fucking stalker. Peering through the car window you saw Freydis stepping into the weak sunshine. She turned on those immaculate heels and you felt a hateful sneer come over your face. You couldn’t see who she was talking to but it looked fairly heated, her voice rising slightly but the words were still muffled. She threw up a hand and started in your direction. Panic skitted over your skin and you scrabbled quickly to make it look like you weren’t just sitting here snooping like an idiot. A sharp rap on your window had you muttering angrily under your breath as you pressed the button to roll it down.

“How’s Hvitserk?” She asked with that sickly sweet tone.

“Getting there.”

“I do wish I could see him,” she lied and you caught yourself from making a face. “Are you here to see Ivar?” A slyness entered her voice and you smiled in an effort to ward yourself against it.

“Yes. To update him on Hvitserk.”

“Such a thing as phones,” she replied absently as she straightened up. “Until next time!” She called, giving you a dismissive wave and you found yourself mouthing silently at her retreating back and crossing your eyes in annoyance.

“Fucking prissy bitch,” you snarled. Anger made your steps slightly jerky, knowing that she’d been here again and probably many more times since you’d been holed up with Hvitserk.

To your surprise Ivar’s front door was open and you pushed it gently, not even sure you were allowed to enter. He looked up from where he was standing next to the table, photos littered the surface and straight away you were captivated.

“Can I?” You asked and he nodded. Closing the door and stepping beside him, you delicately picked the photos up. “These are gorgeous!” Some were of snow capped mountains and sunlight filtering through trees, others were of a horse. Closeups of the bridle, the way his tongue came out under the bit, the person who was riding him flexing their hands on the reins. Cream jodhpurs and rich leather saddles filled the top of the table, you spied two horses. One was a deep chestnut, almost red in the light and the other was the mottled coat of a dapple grey. “Who are these for?”

“Freydis.” Of course they were. Dropping the photo you were holding, you smiled but it held no warmth.

“So I came to let you know Hvitserk is doing great. He will need to be prised out of that house though. I think he’s worried he’ll relapse.”

“I’m sure he’s got nothing to worry about. All he’s done is talk about how well you take care of him.” He limped towards the sofa, the telltale grimace across his face when his leg was playing up flitted to life and you curled your hand into a fist to stop from helping him.

“I’ve managed to take some time off and work from home for a bit, but my boss is losing patience.”

“So? The job isn’t right for you anyway.” Cocking an eyebrow you perched on the other end of the sofa, the arm uncomfortable but you refused to move now you’d sat down.

“What should I be doing?”

“Anything but work for that company. Go freelance.”

“I’m not here to talk about my job…”

“No. You’re here to talk about Hvitserk.” You hated the way he tilted his head to look at you. The glare in his blue eyes as he practically spat out his brother's name.

“Yes, because Hvitserk needs us.”

“He hasn’t needed anyone but you.” Standing and crossing your arms you looked around the flat. The space where his guitar used to sit was empty, as empty as your heart right now.

“This is about that row we had. Weeks ago, Ivar. That was weeks ago!” He sighed, dragging it out and drumming his fingers on the arm of the sofa as he glanced out the window. “I came here to talk to you.” The break in your voice was evident and he turned at the sound of it, but glared at the blank tv rather than actually looking at you. “The least you could do is look at me!” You demanded, the frustration and anger unfurling in your gut, piercing your insides like red hot spikes. “You slipped away and I don’t even know when it happened!”

“I don’t want to do this now,” he huffed. His cane in his hand as he pushed himself upright.

“We are doing this!” You rounded the sofa and cut off his escape. “Gods be damned, Ivar Lothbrok, but you are going to stand here and fucking talk to me.” You waited, not caring how awkward the silence got, but the longer it dragged the more annoyed you became.

“There’s nothing to say,” he finally said.

“I’m—,” choking down some tears you coughed. “Nothing? At all?” He slowly shook his head and you took a step back. Staring at your boots you could feel the whirlwind gathering strength inside you. The swirl of words that you wanted to say but they slipped by before you could grab them. You wanted to tell him how it had always been him, from the moment Floki first brought you home. Ivar had been the one to approach you last, after his brothers had looked you over and got distracted by something else. Ivar had crawled over and just sat opposite you. Both of you staring each other down, the one that didn’t talk and the one that couldn’t walk.

You never knew what it was that made Ivar hate you so much from childhood, but as you stood there the pieces slipped into place. You always gravitated to Hvitserk. And Ivar took that as an indication there was no room for anyone else in your heart.

“You think that I love Hvitserk. Well, you’d be right.” A triumphant glint sparked in his crystalline blue eyes, but it died along with the smugness in his face. “But I also love Ubbe and Björn and Sigurd,” you continued softly. “And you, Ivar. But with you it’s different.” You hated how he didn’t voice what was on his mind, his lips moved, his jaw flexed but nothing was spoken. “Maybe I…” shaking your head you had no idea where this was going. “Maybe I dreamed it all but I’m pretty sure you kissed me! Maybe it was being at the lodge, but since Ragnar…” Ivar’s lip curled and whatever softness you were on the verge of reaching was closed off once more. “You are allowed to talk about him, Ivar!”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?” You chased him, not accepting the way he turned away from you once more, forcing yourself in his path.

“Because when I remember Ragnar—I remember being with you.” Your entire body jolted at the ice in his gaze. His admission wrapped like barbed wire round your heart and squeezed. So he had used you to process his fathers death, those few days in your flat where he’d shut the world out were blissful for you, but filled with pain for him.

“So that’s it?” Nothing. That was all he was giving you. “That’s why you’re…Freydis is a little palette cleanser? Something to wipe the feel of me away?” The urge to run was strong, the need to leave and run straight to the person you knew would comfort you. Ivar said your name as tears finally overcame your vision. They smeared indelicately over your cheeks. Everything about the pain that filled you right now was searing.

“I’m sorry, elskan mínn. My brother needs you more.” Your hand fumbled for the door handle, slipping over the metal because you couldn’t feel it under your fingers. You don’t know if he tried to stop you or if he was helping you open the door, either way you were stepping out into the sunshine and falling into your car. You didn’t give yourself time to breathe. Chucking the car into gear, you screeched back to the one place where you felt at ease.

[spacegoldilocks]

Three Rules

Hvitserk x F!Reader

Summary: A few months ago, you and Hvitserk accidentally discovered a herb that made you unable to resist one another. Now that you're in a relationship, you decide to try it again and make a game out of it.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, smut, basically taking an aphrodisiac and seeing how long you can stay away from one another, kinda sub!Hvitserk, riding, vaginal sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), face sitting, praise, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 5.7k

Gods, why did you agree to this? It might seem like fun, but it’s torturous.

And of course it was his idea.

Several months ago now, the two of you had been wandering through the wooded area outside of Kattegat. You’d been walking for hours, complaining to him that you were bored and hungry and tired.

The whole day he had been messing around, and when you’d complained about your hunger he picked up a familiar looking plant that resembled a herb you’d seen a thousand times on your dinner plate in the great hall.

“Here, eat this.” He said.

“Hvit-“ You cut yourself off with a huffed laugh. “I’m not eating that.”

“I will.” He replied, chewing the raw plant like some kind of farm animal. Then he began to frown. “Wait a second.”

“What?”

“Seriously, try this. It’s delicious.” You, somewhat stupidly, humoured him and decided to eat some of the plant he had offered you.

And he was right. It was amazing - earthy but with a slight sweetness to it that left a marvellously fresh aftertaste. “We should take some of this back with us.”

You did end up taking some of it back with you. But not to show everyone it’s delicious taste.

Not long after you both had consumed it, you were met with a sensation at your core that was unlike anything you'd felt before. It could only be described as somewhere between a tingle and a burn. It was constant, making you want to clench your thighs together with every step.

You really tried to ignore it, thinking that there was something wrong with you. But then you noticed that Hvitserk had started to act … strange.

He had been your friend for years, and you'd pined after him for most of them, so you could definitely tell when he was acting out of character. He sat down, crossed his one leg over the other and hunched in on himself.

You continued to ask him if he was okay, thinking that maybe you'd both been poisoned by the mysterious plant and had different reactions to it. He insisted he was fine, but one wrong move by him revealed everything. Everything.

You noticed that he was effected by whatever you had eaten, too.

Several years of friendship had ended in those woods simply because of a fucking plant. He took you there, on the dirty ground, like a savage. But there was nothing else for it. The burning desire had become so fierce that neither of you were able to form a coherent sentence until he was inside you.

Not that you minded. Admittedly, the effect of the shrub was not the most pleasant. But the outcome? Couldn’t have been better.

In the midst of the chaos, he admitted that he’d wanted you for a long time. And you admitted your own feelings for him in turn.

So here you both are. Months later. Sitting across from one another on your shared bed. Playing some ridiculous game of his own making.

“There are three rules.” He said, with that familiar smug smirk on his face that you just knew meant he had been plotting this for ages.

“Go on.”

“First, we both have the same amount. Second, we cannot touch ourselves. And third, and the most important rule, first one to touch the other loses.” He straightens his back, looking quite pleased with himself.

You nod along to his every word, laughing to yourself as he explains each of his rules. “You are mad.”

“I just think it will be fun.” He remarks.

“If you say so.” You reach your arm out to take your share of the plant you brought back all those months ago.

That’s how you know this shit is no good for you - what kind of natural thing stays fresh for that amount of time? It looks as new as the day you picked it, still green and springy and fragrant.

“Ready when you are.” You say, holding it up.

“Let the game begin.”

You tap your respective plants together before putting it in your mouths at almost the exact same time. The sweet, nutty flavour spreads across you tongue, and you savour it, knowing it’s unlikely you’re going to taste it again. Unless Hvitserk has anything to do with it.

You sit there, plants demolished, and wait. You giggle with one another, like naughty children, knowing you’ve done something you shouldn’t have and awaiting the consequences. You fidget with your hands, waiting for the oncoming sensation in the bottom of your stomach.

It works slowly. Almost to the point where you think you might be imagining the feeling, creating the illusion of that tingle in your mind in anticipation of the real thing. But it is the real thing. You feel it settling low within you, creating a familiar feeling that makes you ache with the need for touch.

But, as per the rules, you can’t. His rules.

Hvitserk shuffles in his seat, restricted by way his legs are crossed.

You can’t help but laugh. “You’re feeling it, too?” As if the sound of your voice prompted him, you see a tent begin to form in his trousers. “You are.”

He purses his lips at you. The game is on.

You giggle, watching the bulge in his trousers grow, wetting your lips with your tongue as you bring your eyes back up to meet his.

“I do not know why you laugh at me.” He nods his head towards your chest. When you turn your gaze down, you notice your hardened nipples under the fabric of your dress.

You look back up at him, but he keeps his eyes on your breasts. You decide to taunt him - by shaking your shoulders at him, allowing him to see the movement of your breasts beneath the fabric.

“Stop that.” He warns.

“Why?” You ask innocently while continuing your torture of him. He doesn’t need to know, but the friction of the thin material against your nipples is doing the slightest job at easing a fraction of the discomfort you feel.

You think you can do surprisingly well at ignoring the burning and heat radiating from your cunt - at least longer than he can ignore his cock twitching in his trousers. You’ve had years of practice at suppressing your desire, especially for him, why should now be different?

In fact, you don’t just think you can outlast him. You know you can.

He looks away from you, opting to focus his eyes on the fire on the other side of the room.

“You think you can just…look away?”

He chews on his lip. “Mm-hm.”

You huff, leaning back with your arms behind you and extending your legs across the bed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I know what you are doing.” He taps his fingers on his knees, searching for any distraction to aid him in ignoring his cock straining against the wool of his trousers, itching to sink into the wet heat of you.

You suppose it would count as ‘touching yourself’ if you were to push your thighs together in the hopes of relieving your aching clit. And you want your victory to be fair.

It’s hard. Both of you sitting in relative silence aside from the heavy breaths made by the two of you, trying your best to not give in. The burning worsens, becoming a twinging cramp that was the breaking point for you both last time. You take a deep breath, clenching around nothing in an attempt to alleviate something.

Still, from the sweat drops forming on his forehead, he’s bound to give in soon. You’re struck with the urge to lick it. This fucking herb. It’s making you bad. You suppose this is what happens next? It starts to work its way into your brain, making you seek pleasure in things you normally do not. Who even knows?

Your eyes make their way down his body. Thank the Gods for all the layers of clothing he wears, because the thought of those tattoos across his chest and arm and leaving marks from your nails alongside them as you -

No. You can't do this. You’re not losing. If it was his idea to put you through this torture again, you’re sure as fuck not going to let him win. It’s such a good thing that you can’t actually see his body. Your mind’s sent into a spin watching his fingers thrum against his leg, imagining what they could do if you let him.

This thing is dangerous. You swear you feel the way it worms into your brain, making you fixate on every inch of his exposed flesh. Making you find a way to help the ache go away. It’s like it works to gradually infect your every part, eventually forcing you to give in against your will. You look away from him, stealing a final glance at his face before redirecting your gaze elsewhere.

He’s not even looking at you, his head still turned towards the other side of the room. And that’s how he intends on staying to see this through. This is his path to victory, you realise. If he doesn’t look at you, then he thinks he’s safe.

So, how can you make him lose?

You’re struck by several brilliant ideas. If he refuses to look at you, then how can the effects of the plant make him give in like it almost did to you? He probably doesn’t even know about this ability it has. Which gives you an upper hand.

He had three rules. Mainly regarding touching. Which is fine, because all you need to do is get him to look at you without looking at him.

You know just talking to him won’t make him look so, what? You just need to strip? Get naked, have him look at you, and he loses. It seems unbelievably simple. So much so that you’re surprised he didn’t make it a rule.

Then again, you know something he doesn’t. It’s not against his rules to exploit the knowledge you have.

You go to move, feeling a rush of wetness and warmth at your core. You moan, a new wave of agony hitting somewhere deep that screams out for attention. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and push yourself up from the bed.

He doesn’t move an inch. “What are you doing?”

You slide the fabric from off your shoulders, revelling in the feeling of the cool air on your body. You didn’t realise quite how stifling you felt in your clothes until now. You think it’s nice until you let the rest of the garment fall off your body. It feels like you’re being bathed in ice, or fire.

The only thing you can compare it to is submerging yourself in the freezing waters of Kattegat in the colder months. When the water licks up at your most sensitive parts, making you jump and take a sharp breath in. When the temperature of the water drops so low that your senses become confused, mistaking the iciness for the burn of scalding liquid.

The cold air making its way around your body wreaks havoc, every inch of skin crying out for touch. And it takes everything in you not to palm your tits, reach between your legs and give yourself some relief.

You whimper, clenching your fists to prevent your hands from wandering.

It catches his attention. “I said, what are you do-?” He whips around, perhaps thinking that you had lost from the sounds you made.

“I’m too hot.” You keep you gaze away from him, flopping back down onto the bed backwards and landing on your back. Your tits bouncing as you hit the furs beneath you.

“Fuck you.” He spits.

“I bet you would like to.” You reply casually, stretching yourself out as you speak to let him get a good look at you. This had better work.

You keep your eyes closed, afraid of losing should you look at him.

He, on the other hand, can’t look away. A steady descent into loss. Just as you hoped. It’s a bit embarrassing how seriously you’re taking this game, you think. But you know you wouldn’t hear the end of it should he win.

He studies whatever he can lay his eyes on. The delicacy of your neck as your head tilts towards the ceiling and the sleek angle of your jaw, perfect for him to latch his mouth on to as he sucks tender spots into your flesh. And the soft curves that cover you from chest to hips, the swell of your breast, your silken torso that rises and falls as your breathe.

His eyes go lower. Lower. He can see your mound and the patch of curls that sits on top. He can’t think straight for all the impure thoughts swimming through his mind. All of the ideas. Things he wants to do to you. Needs to do. Desperation and ache for you. Pure, raw lust that nothing could prepare him for.

You fight the urge to smile as you hear him groan, almost teetering on the verge of giving in at his gorgeous sounds. He’s fighting as hard as he can not to cave. And so are you.

He drinks you in. Your ears prick up at every little sound he makes as he marvels in your form. It’s a game of outlasting. It has been this entire time. But it’s getting down to the last straws. Who’s going to lose?

“Fuck.” He mutters under the breath. He’s done for.

You feel the bed move as he shifts, coming out of the protected, hunched over position to draw nearer to you.

He’s close. Physically. You can feel how the blankets drop at your side from the weight of his arms. You don’t say anything, and don’t open your eyes, terrified of making a move that causes your, so far brilliantly executed, plan to fail.

“How are you feeling?” He asks. From the volume of his voice, his face hovers near yours.

Fucking awful. The sound of his voice, the thought of his lips so close to yours. You’d do anything to have him. Except lose. Almost anything.

“Not good.” You draw your hands up over your head, trying your best not to accidentally hit him with how close he seems to be, to recline yourself further.

“No?” His eyebrow quirks.

You shake your head.

“Me neither.” He takes a finger, trailing it down your arm. You have to bite down on your lip to suppress the moan that threatens to escape. His touch is akin to the lick of fire, like sweeping your hand over an open flame for a thrill.

Gods, maybe you’re losing. Why is he taking this so well? You expected his mouth to be on you by now, if not where you need him most then, at least a kiss.

“So tell me about it.” Calm your breathing. Try to ignore him. If you get him to talk about it he’ll lose. If you get him to talk about it you can get him to give in. Succumb to his desires.

He huffs a laugh. “Where to start? I cannot stop thinking about how wet you must be, down there. All for me.” Oh Gods. Oh no. Wrong move. “How much I want to fuck you. Taste you. Take what I want from you. Feel how your body trembles as I make you cum for me. Over, and over, and over-“

You clear your throat to silence him. Why the fuck did you tell him to talk?

“What’s the matter?” Gods, you can just hear the smugness in his voice. Bastard.

“You’re right.”

“I don’t-“

You open your eyes. It’s a bold move, but this is your last line of defence before you resort to giving in. You prop yourself up on your elbows, every move aching as you fight the urge to push your thighs together. “I’m so wet for you.”

He looks dumbstruck. Taken aback. Literally as he moves back to sit on his knees. Most likely he expected you to stay there, transform into a whimpering little mess beneath him, begging him to make the first move. To touch you. Giving into his touch as he makes you lose.

Not today.

“Oh-“

“Would you like to see?” You don’t even give him chance to reply before you swivel round and open your legs for him.

And now. Now you know he’s fucked.

His mouth drops open at the sight of your cunt, wet and pulsing with the need to be fucked. You can see the inner turmoil on his face. It’s etched with wonder and lust and defeat, all at the same time. Now he knows he’s fucked.

You notice how his pupils dilate, the colour of his eyes becoming almost completely black as they cloud with lust, focused only on the parts of you he craves most.

“Fuck this. I lose.” He reaches into his trousers, freeing his cock that drips with beads of precum. He starts stroking himself, preparing for you. It’s a delicious sight. “Don’t care anymore. Come here.”

He reaches out to your thigh to pull you towards him.

“Wait a second.” You hold your hand out to stop him. You can wait just a few more seconds, because this is going to be great.

“Is something wrong?” He stops, hovering over you slightly as his eyes widen.

“You think that I should win the game and not get a reward?” You raise an eyebrow at him and smirk.

“What do y-“

Fuck his questions. Fuck his rules. Fuck his game.

You need to cum. How you want to.

You spring up, cutting him off, and push him backwards onto the pillows. You crawl up to him, working up his body until you’re straddled and hovering above his dick. And then you lean down, placing the softest kiss you can to his lips and fighting your every instinct to attack his mouth, plunging your tongue in to taste his as you ride him. “We are doing this my way.”

You straighten your back, stand up on your knees and sink down onto his length.

You’re so wet he moves inside you with ease. But the sting of stretch and the pure fire that ignites at finally fucking him and being given the opportunity for release almost makes you pass out. Bliss.

You both cry out. He, groaning low and gruff in his throat as he feels how tight your cunt is and how it grips him so well. You, at the sensation of his head dragging somewhere inside you as you start to move back and forth, grinding yourself on him to chase your release.

“Gods, I should have lost sooner.” He says as he watches in awe as your breasts move in time with your movement as you buck your hips.

“I’m surprised you lasted so long.” You remark, slowing your grind down but going harder, relishing in how he fills you so deliciously.

His jaw ticks to the side, clearly a little bit irked by your comment.

You stop your movements, getting up from your knees to dig the balls of you feet into the bed to steady yourself. He grabs your hips as you go to set yourself into a better position on his cock. But before you’re seated you take his hands, pinning them above his head.

Your repositioning of his hands takes you lower down to his face as you speak to him.

“No touching.” Your nose brushes his. “You had your rules, now I have mine. Hands to yourself.” He puts his hands under his head, trying to restrain himself from touching you at the lack of physical restraints.

You push yourself back up, grabbing his cock in one of your hands to guide it into you. Then, you let your palms rest against his clothed chest to balance yourself as you pick up a steady pace of bobbing up and down on him.

You work up, knowing his body well enough to stop before he falls out of you completely, and sinking back down to the base of him.

Your peak comes on quickly, just as you remember it did last time. Something about this stuff makes you crave release and yet gives it to you with ease.

Your thighs burn with the effort of propping yourself up and maintaining movements strong enough to keep you satisfied. You’re close, you can feel the effects of the plant beginning to waver as you approach your high. You chase the bliss that comes with release as well as the loss of that uncomfortable tingle.

“Fuck.” He hisses between his teeth, hypnotised by his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Go faster.”

You take one of the hands away from his chest, bringing it to his face. “I told you,” You slip one of your thumbs into his mouth held agape. “We’re doing it my way.”

He smirks at your dominance. Normally, it’s him you let take control of things. You like it that way. But something about this fucking game made you want to slap the smugness out of him. He lost, and this is what happens.

You keep your thumb in his mouth, letting it slip in as far as it’ll go. He looks up into your eyes as his wraps his lips around your digit and swirls his tongue around.

It sends you over the edge. His teeth graze near the base of your thumb as you take his cock as deep as you can. Your legs almost collapse with the pressure you’re putting on them. You steady yourself, flattening your palm against his chest as you start to spasm on top of him.

“Shi-“ Your cunt clenches around the hard length of him as you try your best to ride out your high without his hands on your hips to guide you. “Hvitserk!”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, watching as it leaves a wet trail behind as you drag you hand down to his chest.

He notices your rhythm falter and takes it upon himself to start thrusting his hips up into you. A raspy cry falls from your mouth at the slow, brutal pace of his movements. He goes deep, making your eyes roll back as you take him.

You hit at him with one of your hands, getting him to stop. “How- how many times do I have to- to tell you?” You dig your hands further into him, pressing your nails against the woollen material of his shirt. “I’m in charge.”

“Gods! Just let me fuck you.” He pleads, extending his arms out, ready to flip you over and pound into you relentlessly should you submit.

You take a few deep breaths, regaining composure after your release. Your discomfort has majorly subsided and you can, for the most part, finally think straight.

“No.” You rise, letting his length slip out of you before settling back down on your knees above him.

“Plea-“

“You need to be taught a lesson.” You smirk down at him.

“No, please, I need to c-“ His brings his arms out from under his head, moving to cup your face with them as he tries to sit up.

You push him back down. “You should’ve thought about that.”

He chews on his lip. “So what, then?” As much as he’s trying to hide the fact, he secretly likes you taking control like this. He just wishes you picked a different time when his cock wasn’t strained and his balls weren’t tight and aching with the effects of that fucking plant.

“Hm.” You tilt your head at him, considering the playful, brazen smile painted on his face. “Eat me out and I’ll let you finish.”

His eyes light up and you notice his fists ball as he fights to keep restraint.

“Deal.”

You throw your leg over him to allow yourself to crawl up beside him, throwing the leg back over once you get to his head.

He looks up, seeing the glistening lips of your cunt, and moans at the sight of you. Swollen and wet for him.

You bring yourself lower, enough for him to begin using his tongue to flick your clit. You close your eyes and your tongue darts out to wet your lips after a garbled cry. The first contact he makes reminds you of how painfully neglected your clit's been this whole time, paired with its oversensitivity after your peak.

He moans, extending his neck so he can flatten his tongue against you. But he’s restricted. He needs you closer. You didn’t want to fully sit on him - not wanting to completely smother him with your thighs and pussy.

He flops his head back onto the bed. “Can I touch you?”

You consider his question. “Only once.”

He breaks out into a grin as he hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls you down onto his face. It’s a complete shock and your head lulls backwards as you feel his tongue plunge into you, unforgiving.

He keeps you locked down, your pussy flush against his mouth, feeling his nose pressed into your clit as his tongue works into you. You feel the patch of hairs that he grows above his lip tickle and press into your delicate skin as he starts his assault on your cunt.

He removes his tongue and you can just about hear him tell you to stay just like that as he takes his hands back off you, pushing his fingernails into his palm to fight off the temptation to move them.

You hold yourself there, just as he had you, letting him flit his tongue against you, swirling it, dipping it, using it in ways that make you see stars. You grab your breasts, using your thumbs and index fingers to play with your nipples. It's nowhere close to how painfully good it feels when you let him do it. But it'll do.

The speckled beard across his face rubs against your thighs spectacularly as his jaw rocks with the movement of his tongue.

He hums into you, and you feel the vibrations of it. It sends even more heat pooling at your entrance, which he laps up and brings to draw sloppy circles around your sensitive clit with.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whine. “Don’t stop.”

You’re unsure whether or not he hears you with how tightly your thighs clamp around his head from the anticipation of a second orgasm hurtling towards you.

You feel it, starting somewhere deep within. He must hear you because he picks up speed, focusing all of his attention of your clit, working his tongue up and down to stimulate it. It’s like he finds a perfect way to make you fucking lose it, exploiting everything that makes you a mess, an overstimulated puddle of a person.

Your breathing becomes erratic, no longer chasing your peak to make the discomfort go away but for pure pleasure. And then it hits you. Blinding. Setting you on fire, unlike the feeling on your skin earlier. No, it's not like that at all. It spreads from your stomach out, kissing your insides and building up to burst from you in the form of half realised moans and harsh breaths.

You grind your hips as the rest of your body goes rigid, trying to cling to the pleasure that courses up your spine and makes you arch you back.

He relents slightly, resorting to gentle licks through your folds as opposed to assaulting you with his mouth.

You wait a second. Wait for your cunt to stop pulsing before you move off his face. He allows it, not before pressing a quick kiss to your clit that makes you jump from being overly sensitive.

You swing your leg over, and scoot backwards to kneel at his torso. You lean down, looking at his glistening face, wet with your slick and cum.

“I love you.” You say.

Ad then you kiss him. Dipping your tongue into his mouth to taste yourself. His mouth is hot and his head comes up to meet the force of your lips. He’s so forceful, making you remember how desperate he still is.

Your brain's so numb and spaced out from coming twice that you almost forgot he hasn’t even peaked once. Oops.

You break the kiss off, a sense of guilt forming. You untie the laces of his shirt and help him lift it over his head as he lies back down. Leaving a trail of wet kisses and kitten licks down his exposed chest, you work downwards and rake your nails across his tattooed shoulder, like you wanted to earlier, before it becomes out of reach.

Your tongue tip and nose drag down his lower abdomen, reaching his cock, left neglected after you ceased fucking him.

“Do you want me to suck your cock, Hvitserk?” You tease, looking up at him through your lashes with the heat from your breath fanning over his length, making him shiver.

“Y-yes.” He stutters, feeling you graze your tongue along the underside of him. It’s not nearly enough attention for him. “Please.”

"How much do you want it?" It feels so fucking good getting to do this, taunt him, just how he does it to you.

"So much. Please." He's a mess.

“You’ve been so good.” You moan, taking his cock in your hand and using the tip of your tongue to flick over his head.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, watching as you work him for his release. “Fu-yeah?”

You hum, teasing him by sucking on his tip. “Such a good boy.”

You suppress a smile as you feel him twitch in your hand and hear a faint ‘fuck’ fall breathily from his lips.

As much as you’ve loved being a tease, you decide it’s time to relieve him by taking his length deep into your mouth, using your hand to work what fails to fit.

He pushes himself up to lean on his forearms, watching intently as your head bobs on his dick, trying to take him deeper and deeper as you adjust to his size.

He’s putty in your hands. Wrapped around your little finger as you finally take him deep into your throat, letting him hit the back as you gag a little bit around him.

A slur of phrases leave his mouth as you bring your head back up, taking him deep down again and repeating it.

“Oh G-Gods-“

“Fuuu- Just- Fuck, like that. J-Just like that.”

“So good. So, so, s-so good.”

You know he’s close. You can tell from the way his stomach muscles flex and ripple.

You take as much of him as you can, one last time. Right down to the base and you feel the hair there tickle your nose as the feeling of him hitting right at the back of your mouth makes you gag.

His moans grow higher in pitch, and that’s when you can tell he’s there.

You bring your head up, watching with a smile as a string of spit hangs suspended from the head of his cock to your tongue. And then you start pumping him. Using all of your spit that collected on him to guide your fist, twisting your hand as you open your mouth ready for him.

“So fucking pretty.” He praises, rushing the words out between ragged breaths. And then those breaths turn into suffocated moans as he cums.

He spills all over your tongue, painting your lips with it. He lets his head drop back as the release he’s been craving finally washes over him, soothing all the aching and burning and twinging he’s dealt with.

You allow him to collect himself, finally bask in his peak before swallowing. You want him to watch.

He takes a moment, then looks back up to see you. Your face covered in the evidence of his climax. You look up at him, collecting the cum that decorates the skin around your lips and dipping your finger in your mouth.

You hum around your finger, knowing he’s fucking captivated watching you eat his cum. You slowly draw your digit back out, letting it make a wet pop. And you swallow, making sure to show him your empty mouth when you’re done.

“I love you.” He smiles, eyes glazed over from the sheer bliss of release. “Come up here.”

You crawl up, settling yourself against his side, your two sticky bodies pressed together. You rest your head on his shoulder, tracing the outline of his tattoo with a delicate finger, whilst he brings a hand up to stroke your shoulder.

“You should do that more often. Take control and… boss me around. I liked it.”

You giggle into his sweaty skin, placing a kiss to show your appreciation. "Maybe I will."

The two of you lie in silence, delighting in the other’s company. Your relationship happened all of a sudden, but it’s been so easy. Slightly chaotic. But you love him. And he loves you. What more could you want?

You continue following the pattern, taking in every last detail of the tattoo you could draw in your sleep from all the times you’ve spent lying on his chest memorising it. You love it. You still remember when he first got it, and came rushing to show you. It feels like a lifetime ago now. So much has changed.

He sighs loudly. “Can I just say that you sort of lost?”

You knew it wouldn’t take him long to start messing with you again. “Do not start.” You warn him with a laugh.

“Well, you did make the first move on me.” He posits.

“Absolutely not. You touched yourself before that.” You prod him in the middle of his chest. "You broke the second rule."

He takes your prodding hand, trapping it under his hand against his chest tight enough that you can't pull it loose. “I would call it a draw.” He closes his eyes with a smirk.

“Hvitserk.” You look at him, half smiling and half with an expression of disbelief.

“What? We are even.”

As much as you love him he’s insufferable. Maybe you should’ve let him win.

[underragingwaves]

Well, I had an idea for a modern-day AU Halloween-themed fic.. I think this one saw half a dozen incarnations in my head, varying from shippy to anything but shippy, before it landed on this. You should be advised as a reader that it contains some heavier themes, most notably references to drug abuse and death, and that it also contains outright acknowledgment of a more-than-brotherly relationship between Ubbe and Hvitserk. 😊 

Ivar and Hvitserk are attempting a horror movie marathon of sorts, but the question is if they actually managed to settle down to watch anything. After all, a family phone call might be more important..

Halloween movie night

“Really? You’re not even a little bit dressed for the occasion?”

Hvitserk raises his brows at the petulance that greets him the second he walks in the door. “Neither are you,” he points out, though he knows his little brother’s rules never quite apply to Ivar himself. He huffs as he sets his overnight bag down on the floor. “Staying in and watching a bunch of horror movies with you is hardly something I’m going to get dressed up for, you little shit.”

“You could at least have worn black. Like me. See?”

“One of those days, huh?” he retaliates instead when Ivar pushes his comforter down to reveal the baggiest black shirt his brother owns.  He squints against the dim light as he steps closer to the bed. Isn’t surprised to find Ivar’s eyes are brightest blue and tinged with actual hurt. “You should’ve texted sooner. Fucking dumbass, I bet you’ve been crawling around all morning and made it that much worse.”

Ivar’s voice is so hushed Hvitserk almost doesn’t catch his brother’s mumble. “Not all morning.”

Hvitserk sucks in a breath through his teeth in response. This close to the bed, he can tell how bad it is all on his own. Ivar’s many furry blankets are strewn across his legs, while an additional comforter rests upon his feet. There’s a whole pitcher of water on the bedside table beside a stack of medicine Hvitserk hasn’t seen piled so high since two years ago when Ivar had gotten on the wrong side of a Labrador puppy. Worst and most offensive of all, however, is the fact that there is a bowl of popcorn and a veritable assortment of food on the bed.

“You’re getting crisps all over your comforter.”

“I know.”

“This is the same comforter you lost your fucking temper over when your ex spilled a bit of hummus on it. What was it, something about dry-cleaning smells being the worst offense to mankind and how you would never be able to lie under this comforter the same way again?”

“It was a whole box of hummus mixed with garlic. And she didn’t even say sorry.”

Hvitserk sighs. “I’m not even sure your ex knew that word,” he snarks while he fishes his phone out of his pocket and drops it on the bedside table. “I remember the time she had me pick her up at four in the morning and proceeded to spend the whole car ride trying to hook me up with her even more batshit crazy sister. Almost crashed when she shoved her sister’s nudes under my nose – Katia was still wearing that fucking furry hat, can you believe it? – and she did not apologize in the slightest.”

“Hvits..”

He blinks. Follows Ivar’s line of sight to his phone. Groans as he realizes it didn’t land screen-up, then turns it around in a flash.

“It’s fine, see?”

Ivar folds his arms in response. “I hate you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” quips Hvitserk back while he toes his shoes off and removes his socks. “You’ve been telling me that since you were two and took offense to me having a bigger lumpy pancake than you. Never mind the fact that mom gave you another even lumpier pancake to stop your screeching or that Ubbe tried to distract you with his stupid magic tricks that always failed on him.” He shakes his head at the memory. “I think I’m fucking immune to you saying it by now. Like, it doesn’t hold any meaning whatsoever. I’d be fucking worried if you went one week without telling me that, you know?”

“Does your phone have to be in this room?” Ivar bulldozes straight over Hvitserk’s nostalgia with all the self-centered entitlement that Hvitserk has never managed to smack out of him entirely. His little brother’s practiced airs – sure, there comes the dismissive hand wave when Hvitserk opens his mouth and the little tsk that makes him want to strangle Ivar straight off – almost make him reach for his phone and turn it case-up again despite the potential fit Ivar would have about it. “You could just drop it outside” – whines Ivar, entirely undeterred by Hvitserk’s sharp intake of breath – “on some of Ubbe’s stuff instead of on mine.”

Hvitserk shrugs out of his vest and drops it to the floor. “Or you could just decontaminate your bedside table when I leave instead of bitch about my phone.” He eyes Ivar’s central position on the bed critically. “Budge.”

“I’m comfy right here.”

“Fucking move.”

Ivar pats the small space between his stack of candy and the edge of the bed. “You can sit here.”

“I’m not going to explain to you how much I can’t do that.”

“Well, you’re out of luck, brother,” explains Ivar with all the air of addressing someone far dumber than he, “because my legs hurt a lot today and if I move I might break something. You wouldn’t want me to break something, would you?” There comes the pout, predictable as anything, and the sheen in Ivar’s eyes might almost be believable if it wasn’t paired with a glint of amusement. “I need to be right here.”

Hvitserk snorts. “No, you really fucking don’t,” he says. Rolls his eyes as he grabs hold of the candy packets and throws them onto Ivar’s lap. He sinks a knee onto Ivar’s mattress. “Budge, you little shit. Or I just help myself to my popcorn bowl and leave.”

“That’s my bowl.”

“Newsflash: Ubbe bought it.”

“He gave it to me.” Ivar grouches as he shifts on the mattress and slowly moves toward the wall. The candy packets tumble onto the comforter as he does. “You have the least right to it.”

“Ubbe’s stuff is –”

“Your stuff, bla bla bla,” dismisses Ivar. An annoyed groan escapes him as he settles into his new position. “Fucking married couple, the pair of you. It’s disgusting” – he snorts out as he moves the bowl as far out of Hvitserk’s reach as possible – “and I’m convinced you’ll even share a toothbrush if we ever get into a zombie apocalypse situation.”

“Pretty sure there won’t be a shortage on toothbrushes during one of those.” Hvitserk topples onto the bed rather unceremoniously. Stretches out in the recently freed space with a groan and tilts his head to look up at Ivar. “Unless zombies brush their teeth, which I’ve never seen them do. Maybe you can find us a movie with that, huh?”

“I’m not watching a zombie film with you. You ruined Night of the Living Dead.”

“By snoring through it? Fucking boring film.”

“It’s a classic!”

“It,” enunciates Hvitserk very clearly, “was so boring even Ubbe fell asleep.”

“Ubbe’s taste in films is limited to werewolf movies and you fucking well know it. One more viewing of Ginger Snaps and I’m going to..”

“Right there with you,” nods Hvitserk, shuddering a little to himself. “What’ve you got then? I remember you screeched absolute bloody fucking murder the last time we went for a ghost movie.”

“I did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did fucking not.”

“Did fucking too,” counters Hvitserk decisively as he tries and fails to reach the popcorn bowl. “We could always watch Buffy. The movie one, I mean.”

“Not again. No. Elaborate death scene or not, it’s a no.”

“Then what?”

“All slasher movies are still out, yeah?”

Hvitserk shudders a little. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Ubbe watched Ready Or Not with me this morning before he left, anyway. It was kinda funny. In-law problems and all.”

“Relatable,” snorts Hvitserk.

“We could watch the kid stuff. Goosebumps or whatever.”

“You already sound bored saying that out loud.”

“You’re cramping my horror style,” grumbles Ivar as he toys with the remote control. “Did you know how many horror movies have murder?”

“Plenty don’t. And I’m fine if it’s, like, a vampire or something.”

“You’ve seen every vampire movie on the planet.”

“Pretty sure I haven’t.”

Ivar’s quirked brow dares dispute it, even when his brother merely shrugs and doesn’t respond out loud. He clicks through his movie catalog so decisively, dismissing titles Hvitserk hasn’t even heard of and not bothering to pause on the vastly unwelcome like Midsommar or Hereditary, but doesn’t land on anything good just yet.

Hvitserk’s phone chimes.

“No, absolutely not!” bursts Ivar out indignantly. “You’re not picking your clown phone up in my – Serk!”

The phone chimes again as Hvitserk reaches for it. Ivar’s strangled noises of protest get a whole lot louder in turn.

“Shut up, Ivar!”

“You’re not pick– I won’t let” – huffs Ivar, throwing the remote down on the bed and trying to reach over Hvitserk to stop him �� “don’t you dare grab it, Hvitserk!”

“It’s my phone, you big baby!”

“It’s my bed and you put clowns on your phone casing!” screeches Ivar, just as Hvitserk’s hand closes around his phone. Ivar’s nails scratch a pattern over his arm. “You’re not.. I..”

“Shut the fuck up,” snarls Hvitserk. “Yes, I put clowns on my phone casing,” he affirms, not even bothering to flip the phone over to show Ivar, “because you keep going into my phone if I don’t. I love that you’re so shit-scared of them that you won’t even touch the damn phone now.”

“You’re so fucking mean,” hisses Ivar.

His youngest brother attempts to scramble atop him in a last-ditch effort to dislodge his phone from his hand. Hvitserk grunts. Clutches his phone a little tighter, then flips Ivar back onto the bed with no great effort. Squeezes down in warning as his hand lands on Ivar’s throat.

It’s a blessing that Ivar can’t kick out at him the way Ubbe would’ve done.

Hvitserk glances at his phone screen. Smiles. Ivar’s eyes go comically wide as his thumb slides over the screen right when he puts the phone to his ear.

“Don’t pick i–!”

“Hi love,” he greets brightly, ignoring Ivar’s indignant noises beneath his hand. The line crackles. Splutters with sound a moment. Hvitserk frowns. Gives his phone a little shake, then puts it back to his ear. “Ubbe?”

“Uncle Hvitty?”

Hvitserk grins broadly as he leans over Ivar in a bid to stop his brother from grabbing the phone. “Asa! Hi baby,” he coos down the line, hissing a moment as Ivar’s hand hits the small of his back. “Are you having fun trick-or-treating?”

“Hali got punched,” giggles Asa’s voice on the other end. “Daddy’s holding Hali’s nose like ’s gonna run.”

Hvitserk sits up straighter amid Ivar’s strangled sound of complaint. He squeezes down on his brother’s throat in warning, just a little, and shakes his head at him. Something in his expression must give it away – this is serious, this is not something to fight me on – because Ivar ceases most of his writhing to adopt a baleful glare faster than Hvitserk would have expected him to.

“Björn’s there? Asa, Asa baby,” he shoots down the line at lightning speed, interrupting some unintelligible babble or other, “listen to Uncle Hvitty, is Björn there?” He notes Ivar’s raised eyebrows and reads the will kill him his little brother wordlessly offers him. Hits the button that puts Asa on speaker seconds later. “Your dad?”

He can practically hear Asa’s frown. “No. Is not Björn.” There’s an actual sigh on the other end of the line that sounds entirely too much like the sigh Ubbe sometimes offers him when he’s being particularly dim. “Daddy Ubbe is holdin’ Hali. An’ he’s making scary face at people.”

Hvitserk’s eyes go as wide as Ivar’s. He mouths daddy Ubbe? at his brother, who looks just about as shocked as he feels. He feels like he needs to sit down, except he’s already sitting now that he has released Ivar and sank back onto the bed. Ivar doesn’t even freak out over the fact that the back of the phone has now actually hit the comforter, which is the most telling thing of all.

“Asa?” offers Ivar, now that Hvitserk sits back and stares at the phone. “Asa, darling?”

“Uncle Ivar?”

“Yeah. Asa, sweetheart, can you do something for me?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you put your daddy on the phone for us real quick? Tell him it’s Uncle Hvitserk, yeah?”

There’s a noise of assent over the speaker. Hvitserk blinks as they hear a Hvitty! voiced by Asa, followed by some mumbles and a wailing sound that wouldn’t be amiss in a horror film. A huff of breath, deeper than Asa’s shallow little breaths, follows soon after.

“Hey babe,” greets Ubbe, as if nothing is the matter and the world didn’t just stop spinning for a moment. “Where are you?”

“I’m right fucking here, for fuck’s sake,” gripes Ivar, “before you continue and ask him what he’s wearing.” Their little brother sits up and glares at the phone as if he can set it on fire with his mind. “And, yeah, Serk’s sitting here acting a little freaked about what the kid called you just now.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not gonna fucking say that word to you,” protests Ivar. He exhales a noisy breath. “She called you some version of dad just now, Ubbe. Since when does she –”

“Later, Ivar, I’m currently holdin’ one kid’s bloody nose and got the other kid clinging to my leg while that fucking English bastard seems to think that I won’t put a dent in his bloody Porsche just because, and I quote, there are kids present as if his shitty offspring didn’t just whack Hali with that candy holder I’m going to shove all the way up his –”

“Ubbe!” shouts Ivar, loudly enough to probably be heard screaming over Ubbe’s threats. “Focus! Listen. To. Me.”

“Ivar, I stopped listening to you when you were three and told me to drown Sigurd in the bathtub,” remarks Ubbe immediately.

“He had it coming, you know he did,” responds Ivar with a small hiss. “Forget the Porsche. Focus. Go get Hali’s nose fixed.”

“Take him to Amma,” croaks Hvitserk helpfully as he leans over the phone. He feels like he’s clutching at straws. “Get her and Gunnhild to watch the kids or something.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” huffs Ubbe. “Why the fuck are you with Ivar anyway, babe?”

“He’s going through an episode.”

“No, he’s fucking not,” comes the immediate reply, “unless he tripped over his own dance moves I spotted in the kitchen before I left. Did you fall on your face again, little man?”

“Am not little.”

“Ivar, you cunt,” breathes Hvitserk in realization, trying to keep the admiration and distress away from his voice even as they bubble up inside his chest and make him want to laugh as much as he wants to throttle his baby brother. “Did you just – you fucking – you shitty little brat, you absolute asshole – I’m gonna fucking stran–!”

Ubbe’s voice crackles low in warning over the speaker. “Don’t kill him before I come home, you hear me? Hvits?”

“You better come home right fucking quick,” grounds Hvitserk out as his hold on Ivar’s arm turns into a vice-like grip, “don’t know what the fuck you think – you fucking nightmare, you absolute cow – yes I’m gonna fucking call you that don’t you dare – IVAR!” He shrieks as his brother lashes out at him and topples him onto his back. “Let me go, you utter pain in my ass, you miserable psycho– you lied to me!”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” snarls Ivar, pinning Hvitserk down on the mattress with alarmingly little effort. Hvitserk attempts to get his legs under him, to kick back at Ivar and kick him where it’s gonna hurt, but he can’t gain a foothold. “Yes, I lied to you, end of the world as we know it, get a fucking grip. You got some fucking nerve getting mad at me after all the stunts you pulled!”

“What?”

“You dropped your clown-decorated phone on my bed even when you know I’m fucking scared of them,” comes the gripe, “and yet here you are, acting all bananas about that little girl calling Ubbe what he’s been to me for years.” Ivar’s eyes spark with ill-disguised emotion as he holds Hvitserk in place. “Björn wasn’t a dad to her. I won’t even mention that bitch our mother took to court after she’d babysat the pair of you, though I had to remind the judge of her the other day when he asked why I thought their mother would not be fit to take care of them either.”

“Iv–”

“Shut up, Ubbe,” sighs Ivar, with absolutely no venom behind his words at all. “I told you that you were playing it way too fucking nice. Björn almost spilled the very little beans he had about the two of you, did you know that? Huh? Did either one of you two geniuses know?” He shakes his head even as Hvitserk bares his teeth at him in warning. “Of course I told that judge everything except what’s going on with the two of you – because even you two don’t know what the fuck that is – and yeah I might have mentioned that Ubbe had custody of me for five months after dad died and mom went off the deep end. So fucking what?”

Hvitserk blinks up at Ivar. “You what?”

“I wasn’t gonna let Asa and Hali grow up like we did, okay? Ubbe’s been my dad, too, and I never forgot it.” Ivar’s voice grows so soft it’s barely audible, though Ubbe’s sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line means he’s heard every word. “And yeah, I lied about the amount of pain I’m in today. I didn’t wanna.. I didn’t want you going off to some party, Serk.”

“I wasn’t go–”

“You missed Halloween last year. You said you’d come, said you’d be here in time for our marathon session the way we do it every year. And you weren’t. You weren’t fucking here, Serk. Wanna know where I found you?”

“What the fuck do–”

“Amma knows all the places you can find drugs in this town, did you know? She pointed them all out to me, every last one, when she drove me around looking for you. She’s a really good nurse, even though her blue hair is an assault on my eyeballs. But she got scared that night. Finding you.”

“Wha–”

“Ivar,” crackles Ubbe’s voice in soft warning.

“No. Fuck you. Fuck you for telling me I can’t tell Serk that he scared the shit out of me that night, Ubbe!”

“It doesn’t sol–”

“You don’t even remember, huh?” Ivar’s eyes bore into Hvitserk’s skull in a way that makes his blood run cold. “Of course you don’t. You were so far gone, doped up on that bullshit, that you don’t remember anything. Well, I do. I remember looking at you and feeling scared for the first time in my whole life.”

“I don’t” – breathes Hvitserk, feeling like ice has lodged somewhere in his belly – “I’m not…”

“I was s-scared,” says Ivar, voice wobbling on the notes like he isn’t sure of how to utter them, “b-because I thought you were gonna die. Y-you were so out of it, you didn’t even know who I w-was, and all I c-could think of was having to tell U-Ubbe. H-having to tell him y-you..”

“Ivar,” comes Ubbe’s voice on the other side of the phone, blasting over the speaker as calmly as though he is discussing a simple matter over dinner, “it’s okay. Hvitserk’s right there with you. He’s still here.”

“He almost wasn’t. When’s that gonna land, hm? When are you going to discuss that? You never talk about it. Never. And I’m sick of shutting up about it like it didn’t hurt you, like.. like..”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re what?”

“Hvits–”

The ice in his belly turns into a lick of flames. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday, Ivar. And your graduation.” He blinks up at his little brother. “I’m sorry I was a piece of shit for months – yes, Ubbe, yeah I was” – he directs at the phone with a bark – “and I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m sorry I missed you getting custody of Asa and Hali. I’m sorry I walked out on you. I’m fucking sorry for walking back into your lives and expecting you to just deal with that.”

“You can’t just say you’re so–!”

“I know that!” interrupts Hvitserk, glaring up at his baby brother with all his might. “But I can’t.. I can’t. I tried to protect you, Roo. From what happened with mom. From all of this family bullshit that’s been going on. I c-can’t t-talk..” He blinks away the tears that are threatening to spill. “I don’t want you to know. Either one of you. I f-found her. I called the cops. I did that. So you wouldn’t have to. So you would see mom like she was, so you’d remember her smiling and happy. So you.. You won’t be as messed up as me.”

Ubbe’s breath over the phone and his more distant murmurs of assurance to Hali and Asa clenches something painful in his belly. Makes him remember all over again why he didn’t say a damn word. Why it was easier, then, to simply drift. To move away from it all, even when every fiber in his body was begging him to stay.

He sighs.

“Y-you called me Roo,” says Ivar, rather stupidly, as he releases Hvitserk rather abruptly and rolls over to lie beside him. “Just now. You haven’t called me that since.. since..”

“Since mom was murdered,” says Hvitserk, and takes his brother’s hand. “Yeah. S-She was putting photos in an album. Then.” He swallows thickly. Shakes his head as though it can clear his memory from the sight of his mother’s messed-up manicure. “There was this photo of you and me dressed up for Halloween. That last year when you were still small enough to fit in that stupid pouch Ubbe carried you around in all the time, which made me give you that nickname. S-she.. s-she was still holding that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Last thing she saw, I think. And I.. I couldn’t even.. I couldn’t look at you, after.” He blinks away the tears. Swallows noisily. “But you’re my baby brother, Roo. I love you. You’re the biggest pain in my ass and I hate the fact that every other thing that comes out of your mouth is a straight-up lie, but that’s just you.” He sniffs once. Twice. “I know you’re scared of me using drugs again. I am, t-too. I-is why I.. Why I was glad that you wanted to h-have that stupid horror movie marathon with me, even when a-all we can watch is the kid stuff b-because I’m scared of everything else these days.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad too.”

Ubbe’s voice sounds a little strangled. “Hv-Hvits?”

“Yeah, love?”

“You stay right there, okay? Both of you.”

The line goes dead.

“He’s going to race home, isn’t he,” deadpans Ivar.

“Oh yeah,” snorts Hvitserk as he kicks his phone off the bed and grabs the remote control. Releases a breath, then tilts his head to look at Ivar. “There. No more clowns in your bed, except me. And Ubbe, once he gets here.”

Ivar’s soft giggle breaks on a sob. “I-I-I.. Serk, I..”

“Yeah. I fucking know, okay?” He bumps against Ivar’s shoulder. Squeezes his hand as tightly as he dares. “Love you too, baby Roo. Don’t kill yourself saying it back. I know.”

Ivar’s fingers interlock with his so tightly it hurts. “W-we’re n-not watching Hocus Pocus again, I don’t care how many times you say you love me,” warns his brother, always seeking the next argument to distract from any kind of pain. His words are slightly muffled by the fact that his face rubs up against Hvitserk’s shoulder. “You pick something nice. Like.. like..”

“Like Nosferatu?”

Ivar’s amused exhale lodges warm against Hvitserk’s neck. “He’s not very nice.”

“No? He was your favorite, growing up.”

“He’s not nice.”

“And he is on TV right now,” smirks Hvitserk, now that he’s found the correct title in Ivar’s long catalog of stuff and clicked play before Ivar can disagree. He nuzzles against Ivar’s hair as his brother’s head lifts slightly. “Just for you. One very old, very not-nice vampire.”

There’s a small pause as Ivar’s transfixed by the opening title. Hvitserk watches his brother patiently. Takes in the blink of his too-blue eyes, the small curve of joy around his mouth, the soft intake of breath. Isn’t surprised when the next word Ivar utters is his name.

“Hvitserk?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s still my favorite,” sighs Ivar happily, just as the movie’s title cards disappear and a town square comes into view. He settles back against Hvitserk decisively. “Like you.”

Hvitserk blinks at the declaration that’s as close to an I love you as Ivar can possibly muster. Tries to hide the small laugh that bubbles up victoriously in spite of everything else. “Ivar?”

“Hm?”

“Hand me the popcorn?”

[norteigr-if]

Can we have pets? I would really like to have a Raven, and teach it to say phrases like "I understand you" just to freak people out

if you count the dogs and cats roaming free in the town pets, yeah! right now i haven't implemented anything like personal pets, unless you count the horse (that you do get to customize!) geirfinn jarl gifted you after your first few months in town.

i know a wolf would be a great pet for any vikingr in the heat of battle, but midjabó really, really don't like wolves. no one in the northwest do because they're a nuisance for the farms lol. svala does want to change that, so tag along with her and maybe you'll make a friend of sorts, although briefly.

oh and then there's alsyna. she has an entire draft dedicated for her first appearance, so i'll paste that under the cut ;)

a peculiar white raven perches on the bell hung from the wall of the longhouse.

the pure confusion of it makes you halt your step. the black void of its eyes bore into you and it tilts its head, hopping forward. is it... watching you? the eyes hold more wisdom than you thought possible, and it almost makes you uncomfortable how closely its peering at you.

"hello?" hand raised in a wave, your voice still hesitates. it doesn't budge, but clicks its beak once, twice, before ruffling its feathers and stepping further away from you. it's still staring, and you have no idea what you're supposed to do.

it makes the decision for you and caws once before spreading its ivory wings and flying off, a single white feather landing at your feet.

you crouch to pick it up; it feels silken smooth in your hands, like those fabrics in tova's shop you could never afford, or like the cape draped over the jarl's shoulders. you hold it carefully, for you're not certain what else you could do.

"oh, it looks like alsyna has found a favorite!" you jump at broki suddenly appearing next to you. the feather almost falls from your hands and you grip it by the base just as the poet pats your shoulder.

"alsyna?" you ask, glancing first at broki and then the bell. he shrugs. "all-seeing, hvit ravni, the tether of gods, synvigja's eye - she has many names. personally i'd call her an asshole because she keeps throwing pebbles at me."

you follow his gaze to the the skies where the white raven circles, effortlessly graceful. she caws once before disappearing from sight, and you feel the feather in your hand disappear. you lower your eyes just in time for broki to rest it behind your ear.

"you have her blessing; i know many who would grovel for such an honor. just remember; she is smarter than any raven you've ever seen, and an extension of synvigja. never try to tame her for your own vanity, else the gods will anger, and the town will call for your head." he pats your cheek with a smile before pushing past you into the longhouse. a sudden, resounding ping sounds from the bell, drawing your attention.

on the ground next to it, a sizeable pebble.

[waiting4inspiration]

I've never done a snippet request, but I'll try...

Maybe reader and Hvitserk are dating, she is introverted and really shy. One day Hvitserk's friends call him to go out with them, then he calls reader to go with them but she doesn't want and say there's no problem if he goes with them.

But Hvit wants to spend time with his girl, doesn't mind where. So, he says to his friends he is staying at home with his girl. Then, one of them starts complaining about his girl and says "she's so boring, why the hell do you date her? Is she at least worth the fucking?" (you can modify it)

Reader hears it, but she doesn't hear Hvitserk defending her and later she bring the subject back and then it ends fluffy.

Sorry if it's not a snippet request 😅 it's the first time I do it.

A/n: It's alright, love. I can make it work. Hopefully what I've come up with is what you envisioned <3

August Snippets Masterlist

"She must be amazing in bed if you're dating her because to me she looks as fun as a dead fish."

Those words you heard over a call Hvitserk had with a friend who was trying to get him to go out with them. He wanted you to go with him but you said you didn't want to go and that you were completely fine that he goes. So when he said that he wants to spend time with you and that he's rather going to stay home, his friend had something to say about that. And it really hurt your feelings. You didn't even bother staying to hear if your boyfriend would defend you.

He walks into the bedroom where you're sitting on the bed, painting your nails. You look up at him, just because you saw him enter, and you quickly look back down at your nails, not saying a word to him. He can tell straight away that you heard what his friend said.

"Come to hang out with someone like me? I might bore you to death because I'm like a dead fish, as your friend so rudely put it," you mutter, refusing to look at him as he sits on the bed beside you.

Hvitserk shrugs his shoulders. "I don't think you're boring."

You lift your head to give him a tired look as if to tell him to not play with you. "Come on. When have you ever seen me in a club or whatever place it is you and your friends go to?" you ask, exaggerating your words with your hands before you go back to painting your nails.

"You didn't hear what I said to them, did you?" he asks, his words making you stop what you're doing and you slowly look up at him again, shaking your head. "I said that you were exactly what I needed. I needed to slow down and you gave me just that. And I love you for who you are and the calm you've brought to my life. I love you, so much."

Biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too much. Hvitserk's hand reaches out for your face, turning your gaze back to him. "I would choose you over them any day." You can't hold your smile back anymore and it makes Hvitserk's heart lighter. "Now, do I get to spend time with my girl?"

"I guess I can fit you into my busy schedule," you tease, glancing down to your nails for a second before looking back at him.

"Good," he says, pushing himself off the bed and then slipping his arms under you so he can lift you off the bed.

You let out a shout of surprise and your hands shoot out to take a hold of him. "Hvitserk, my nails are still wet!" But you know he doesn't care about that at all.

Snippets Tags- @simsadventures @cruelfvkingsummer @moonie-flower101 @rinkashirikitateku @louisolos @encounterthepast @youbloodymadgenius @buckysjuicyplums @noseyrosey1597

[greythroat]

My crack fic flopped so I am cursing the tag by posting it chapter by chapter here. There are 14 fully written chapters and this is happening because I don’t care about angst anymore now that I have been cured of depression.

“Hey girlypops,” the Doctor said as they got off the train to Lake Silberneherze or wherever. They made a snowball and threw it in Gnosis’s face.

Degenbrecher laughed. But she stopped when she saw the traces of black snow left behind from IS4. Immediately, it started spreading and they all watched in horror as the Hairy Silverfish emerged from a crevasse in the mountain next to Lake Silverheinz.

Degenbrecher prepared to do a fat amount of damage to the Coquette Shaggingfrost with her S3. SilverAsh looked mildly disappointed that it would be over so fast. “But I’m kind of horny,” he said.

“Me too!” the Doctor exclaimed. “𝓘’𝓶 𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝔂 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝔂 🌹🤖”

They left Lake Silmarillion to have hot sexy shrex, leaving Degenbrecher and Gnosis alone to fight the Gucci Shriekingfrog. SLUT POP… MIAMI!

“That boptropican,” Degenbrecher said. She had +25% ATK for Guards, +15% ATK for melees, +25% physical damage, +40% ATK and 30 ASPD for Guards, spinach, pasta, and +0.5 SP/sex for Auto Recovery skills.

The Horny Sylviaplath𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 sent a wave of icicles at them coquettely while snorting a line of coke off of a Honeymoon album, but because Degenbrecher was doing her S3 she was literally invincible. Gnosis wasn’t so lucky. He became a pincushion for the Hungry Hungry Caterpillar.

Thankfully, Harry Styles showed up and healed him. But he would not be received warmly.

“You dumb bitch!” Gnosis ejaculated. “There’s not even Elemental damage in this fight! Or Rides to Lake SpaceX! Go drop 5 nukes on the Larry San Francisco!”

Harrison insisted on being a worthless fuck and not nuking the Listerine Singingcactus. Hvit Aska had taken all his power long ago, plunging Horton into existential depression and leaving him a shell of a man.

“I am carrying you and you’re both contributing nothing,” Degenbrecher squirted (0.5 SP). “Typical male behavior.”

“But I added 25% Fragile— never mind,” said Gnosis.

With a couple more S3s, Degenbrecher defeated the LOFTY SILVERFROST (I spent this whole time trying to remember the first word).

Leto finally finished her game of Fortnite and came out of the train. “What did I miss?”

Meanwhile, SilverAsh and the Doctor were fucking while Shrek played in the background. SilverAsh had been wearing Wayfarer sunglasses, a Ralph Lauren polo with the pony logo, jeans, Topsiders, and his gUcCi bAcKpAck.

Come to Miami… come IN Miami..,

[youbloodymadgenius]

Happiness is Everything (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This wasn’t requested; I needed to give my boy some love, and a strong bond with Hvitserk. It’s nothing but a silly comfort fic.

@geekandbooknerd​ - Thank you for beta reading this for me 💖

@zuxiezendler​ - Thank you 😉🌸 (and you know why)

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Ivar doesn't want any more set-ups. Hvitserk’s stubborn girlfriend disagrees.

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst due to Ivar’s temper and insecurities; an obvious lack of plot; lack of creativity; fluff+++.

Words: 2575

Stifling a hiss of pain, Ivar flops down on the couch, leaning his crutch against its armrest. 

 "Here." Hvitserk joins him, handing him a beer before gulping a long sip of his. "So, brother," Hvitserk's face is slightly crumpled as he looks at him, "There's a last-minute change." 

 With a tight-lipped expression on his face, Ivar frowns. He hates last-minute changes with a passion. "What are you talking about, Hvitserk?" He asks curtly while massaging his right thigh absently. 

 "Thora will be with us tonight." Hvitserk shrugs, his discomfort obvious. 

 "Okay." Ivar tilts his head, confused. Every Thursday night, he and his brother spend the night together. Usually at Hvitserk’s place, eating frozen pizzas – a lot of them, Hvitserk being Hvitserk. Most of the time, Thora, who enjoys spending time with her friends, leaves them alone. Sometimes she stays home though, and honestly, it's fine. The truth is, he likes Thora. She's smart and funny, and uncomplicated. Sure, he didn't warm to her right away. It took time. But now, it's okay. He probably won't say it out loud, but yeah, he likes her.

 "So…" Raising a brow, Ivar takes a sip of his beer, "It's no big deal." As Hvitserk keeps silent, Ivar scrutinizes him. His brother is clearly nervous and not at ease at all. Ivar slowly licks his lips. "What are you not telling me, brother?" He knows he's right when Hvitserk lowers his gaze.

 "Well…" Hvitserk clears his throat, "She won't be alone."

A wide-eyed look on his face, Ivar snarls, pursing his lips. "What does that mean, Hvitserk?" The icy cold tone of his voice matches his hard stare, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his hands into fists. 

 Hvitserk winces, "You know what it means, brother," before taking a seat in the armchair across from Ivar, the small coffee table between them suddenly highly appreciated. One can never be too careful when facing Ivar's anger. 

 "Are you fucking kidding me?" Clenching his jaw, Ivar bangs his fist on the table, and Hvitserk immediately leans forward, catching his brother's beer just before it falls down. 

 "I'm not, Ivar. Listen, I'm sorry but Tho–"

 Ivar cuts him off, running nervously his hands through his hair. "I can't believe it! Remember the fiasco with Thora's cousin? And then with her colleague? What was her name? Livia? Lisa? See, she didn’t even stay long enough for me to remember. Anyway, I thought I was pretty clear after that, wasn't I? Maybe you and your girlfriend should go and check your hearing, what do you think, hm, brother?" His voice dripping with sarcasm, Ivar gives Hvitserk dagger eyes, his pointer finger tapping the side of his head. "No more set-ups. That's what I said, right? Sounds pretty clear, huh? Do I need to tell it again, brother? Look at my mouth, I wouldn't want you to miss it this time,” He points to his lips then in a sarcastic manner, “No. More. Set-ups. No. More. Blind. Dates." Bottom lip quivering, Ivar, who's boiling mad, struggles to hold back his anger.

 "I know, brother…" Hvitserk swallows, rubbing his hand over his face, "but you know Thora means well, don't you? I briefly met Y/N once and honestly, she seemed nice enough. Plus, Thora's not really setting you up. We'll be together, the four of us, here, just eating pizza, it hardly counts as a date, don't you think?"

 Disgruntled, Ivar heaves an exasperated sigh, his nostrils flaring. "Stop playing dumb, Hvit, and don't tell me you've never heard of double dates!" He stares at his brother, his pupils dilated, shading his eyes darker blue. "Anyway, it doesn't matter." As he reaches for his crutch, a scowl on his face, Hvitserk stands up, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"

 "Isn't that obvious?" Ivar mocks him while adjusting his legs in front of him. "I'm leaving!" Shifting his butt forward, he laces his left arm through the metal loop of his crutch, places his right hand on the coffee table, and then slowly hauls himself to his feet, grunting and swearing under his breath. He has a false start, where it seems he's going to fall right back onto the couch, but Hvitserk catches him skilfully, gripping his upper right arm. As soon as he's sure his baby brother has found his balance, Hvitserk releases his arm and Ivar gives him a tight, thank-you smile. 

 Hvitserk barely nods, as if nothing happened. And gosh, Ivar may be mad at him about this stupid set-up-non-set-up thing, but right now he's feeling mostly grateful. His brother not making a big deal out of his struggles never fails to amaze him.

With any other of his brothers, it wouldn't have been the same. 

Bjorn would have looked at him as if he were an utter failure, and then maybe helped him – out of pity, Ivar is sure of that – but not without paternally patting him on the shoulder; or even worse, on the head. The thought makes him cringe and he shakes his head, chasing it away. Bjorn is no longer around anyway, busy traveling around the world with his fourth wife. Or maybe it's the fifth? Ivar lost count a long time ago. 

 Sigurd would have kicked his crutch out from under him while Ubbe would have forced him to sit down, hovering beside him for far too long, afraid he would slip or stumble, or break a bone. Between Ubbe and Sigurd, between plague and cholera, Ivar is honestly not sure which one is better. Or worse. After all, it's all a matter of perspective. 

 Fortunately, Hvitserk – his favourite brother, and it is no coincidence – never treats him differently; never belittles him; never mothers nor smothers him. With him, Ivar feels like he's normal.

 Gratefulness flooding his mind, a pang of guilt suddenly hits him. He knows that if he leaves, he will put his brother in a difficult position. Though his resolve remains unshaken, Ivar puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, and when he speaks again, it's in a softer voice. "Listen, brother, just tell them I cancelled because I wasn't feeling well, okay?"

 Technically speaking, it's not even a lie. Today has been what his beloved mother would have called a 'bad leg day'. The pain coursing through his lower limbs worse and the muscles stiffer than usual, his right leg barely moving due to its swollen joints, he had taken a double dose of painkillers earlier, regrettably with little to no effect.

 "Well, brother," Looking out of the window, Hvitserk grimaces, an uneasy grin on the corner of his lips, "I'm afraid it's too late." 

 As if on cue, the door busts open and a girly chuckle can be heard. Ivar clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the handle of his crutch. As you and Thora take off your coats and shoes in the doorway, Hvitserk mutters, his mouth on his brother's ear, "Behave Ivar, please. For my sake." 

 Ivar snorts, exhaling deeply. "I'll try." He closes his eyes and, shaking his head, he mumbles, fighting a lump in his throat. "It's… It's not that easy. Fuck Hvitserk, you don't even know…I wish I wasn’t so angry all the time. I… I might have been happy." His voice, barely a whisper at this point, cracks at the end, and he hates himself for that.  

 Astounded, Hvitserk isn't even sure he heard right. There's no time left to ask Ivar to repeat himself though, so he somewhat haphazardly decides to comfort him, nevertheless. "You'll get there, brother." He eventually breathes, still stunned by his brother's unexpected admission.

  "We're coming!!" Unaware of the tension in the room, Thora shouts enthusiastically before crossing it in two long strides. All smiles, she joins the brothers, winking at her lover and squeezing his hand, and gives Ivar a peck on the cheek followed by a wholehearted hug. She then steps away, gesturing toward you as Hvitserk wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Ivar, this is Y/N."

 Reluctantly, Ivar looks in your direction and the moment he sets his eyes on you, his breath catches in his throat and he knows he's screwed. Already smitten. Gods, you're glowing and insanely beautiful. He barely hears Thora's next words. "And Y/N, this is Ivar, Hvitserk's little brother."

 A beaming smile on your face, you wave at him before taking two shy steps forward. "Hello, Ivar." Even your voice is wonderful, sweet, and silky, and he can't help but smile back at you, annoyed with himself for being so weak. 

 Even if he can see the sparkle in your eyes as you look at him, even if your smile is devastating, he knows better. 

 It won't last. It can't.

 For now, standing tall in his brother's living room, he's aware you surely find him attractive. With no false modesty, Ivar knows about his good looks, his huge blue eyes his greatest asset. Of course, you must have noticed the crutch, but the crutch per se is barely a turn-off. You can't see his titanium leg braces, which he stubbornly wears under his pants, even if they often bruise the thin and delicate skin of his calves. You can't see his crippling pain, his struggles. You can't see his distorted bones and his hideous legs. You can't see how disabled, how crippled he really is. But he knows that as soon as he takes a step, you'll get a small glimpse, and then the sparkle will leave your eyes, replaced at best by polite indifference, at worst by pity and disgust. 

 Yet, there's nowhere to hide from the inevitable. So, he decisively closes the gap between you and him, leaning heavily on his crutch, dragging his useless right leg behind him, and eventually standing right in front of you, he extends his hand. "Nice to meet you." His gaze never leaves your face, Ivar awaiting for you to avert your eyes, but you surprisingly don't. And as you reach out and offer him a firm handshake, your smile never falters, the sparkle still dancing in your eyes. 

 *** One year later ***

 You stir and turn toward him, your hand searching and finding his chest, and then lay your head on his shoulder. Groggy with sleep, you just mumble his name, eyes still closed, before letting out a content sigh and Ivar can't help but smile; you're so adorable.  

 Wrapping his arm around your waist, he draws you closer, running his fingers along your back and pressing his lips to your head. Rewarded by kisses in the crook of his neck, his free hand settles on your hip, your skin warm and smooth under his fingertips. "Hi," he greets you and buries his nose in your hair, deeply inhaling your scent.

 "Hi." You eventually mumble with a raspy voice, now peppering light kisses all over his broad torso. "What were you doing, my love?" Your eyes flutter open and, propping yourself up on your elbow, your other hand flat on his chest, you offer him a warm smile. There's so much love in your eyes, it takes his breath away. 

 "I was remembering." Ivar smiles fondly at you, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his mouth. "Do you know what day it is?" He asks, gently kissing your knuckles one after the other. 

 "How could I have forgotten?" You scoot even closer, your breast against his chest, your mouth barely an inch from his. "Today is the anniversary of the day we met, my love. That's what you were thinking about?"

 Ivar nods before laying you down on the bed tenderly. He then sits up, running his hands through his hair. "I remember as though it were yesterday, you know? I still can't believe you didn't run away." Sitting behind him, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, trapping him in your embrace, in your love. "You stayed…", his voice trembles as he gestures to his legs, hidden under the sheets, "… you stayed in spite of… of them…" He swallows loudly and your heart aches.

 Resting your head on his left shoulder, you shake your head. "No, my love, I didn’t stay in spite of your legs, but because of them." 

 Ivar is looking downward but as soon as the words escape your lips, he snaps his head to the side, a frown flitting across his face, and gives you a confused and slightly upset look. "What do you… What do you mean?" He stammers, suddenly tense.

 Shifting in the bed, you carefully straddle him, tilting his chin with a curled finger and forcing him to meet your gaze. "Don't get me wrong, Ivar. I'm not especially attracted to your legs. It's not some kind of weird fetish. I stayed because of what is in here." You put your finger on his forehead, and then over his heart. "And here. But your legs made you who you are. And you're different. A good kind of different. You don't think like other men. That's what I love the most about you. You're unpredictable; you always surprise me. You wouldn't have been who you are without your legs." A gentle hand sliding under the sheets, your fingers graze his scarred skin. "With two working legs, who knows what you would have been. You probably would have been a presumptuous womanizer like Bjorn. Or you might have been as boring as Ubbe; as careless as Hvitserk; as annoying as Sigurd. You are who you are, infuriating, smart, and stubborn, and, I must say, breathtakingly handsome, and I love you exactly the way you are." 

 Ivar just looks at you for a long time, a small smile playing on his lips. Raising his right hand, he cups your face. "Never stop telling me you love me, Y/N. Please..." You never saw him so willingly vulnerable before, and it breaks your heart – you never want him to doubt himself – as much as it fills you with joy – he trusts you enough to share his insecurities with you. 

 You answer him without missing a beat. "I won't. I love you more than my own life. I love you bigger than the sky and its stars, I love you to the moon and back. I love you like I never thought I could. Loving you is a blessing, a precious gift, the meaning of my life. I love you and only you, Ivar Lothbrok."

 Blinking a few times, Ivar heaves a shuddering breath. Tears come to his bright blue eyes and the expression on his face is unreadable; fragile and strong all at once. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it. Staring into space, he seems lost.

 Stroking his cheek, you bring him back to the here and now, back to you, kissing his earlobe, his jaw, his neck, before returning briefly to his mouth. "What is it, Ivar?"

 Your lover shrugs, "Nothing, really," and pulls you closer, his hands on your back, his breath on your face, his manly scent enticing you. "Or more accurately…", he whispers in your ear, "… Nothing, yet everything." 

 Not understanding what he's getting at, you keep quiet, just staring at him, confusion obvious in your eyes. He then offers you a mind-blowing smile, and your heart nearly jumps out through your mouth at his next words. 

 "I may be happy. Actually, I think I am."

 🛡⚔️🛡

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