#Hvitty imagines

[way-too-addicted-to-fandoms]

Men being excited that they're a dad will never get old for me🥰🥰🥰

Worthy || 5CW: Hvitserk

❛ request | telling hvitserk he is going to be a father

❛ word count | 759 

❛ genre | fluff

❛ summary | he began to think he too was infertile.

❛ warnings | none

More than anything, Hvitserk wanted to be a father.

Not a king… and not even an earl. Hvitserk Ragnarsson wanted to achieve greatness, of course! But… it was for a reason. To live up to his father’s names and by that thought, be a man worthy of being a father. All boys and girls should be proud from the seed and the womb whence they came.

Keep reading

[hoteldreamss]

Imagine || Hvitserk

Предупреждение: убийство.

Хвитсерк был твоим мужем уже пару лет, и, хотя ты доверяла ему, ты всё равно помнила о его прошлой славе распутного мужчины. Ваша любовь всё равно была безукоризненной друг к другу, и вы не собирались разрушать это.

Приведя себя в порядок, ты выходишь из спальни. Хвитсерк сидевший за столом и поедая свой завтрак сразу обращает внимание на тебя, в отличии от вашей рабыни, которая продолжает очищать посуду после приготовления еды.

— Как спалось? — Хвитсерк не отрывает от тебя взгляд, когда ты подходишь к нему. — Ты, кажется, ворочалась ночью.

— Но в итоге, я заснула. — Твои губы растягиваются в нежной улыбке, когда ты склоняешься к своему мужу и оставляешь поцелуй на его губах, чувствуя тёплые ладони на своей талии.

— Знаешь, я мог бы помочь тебе, с тем чтобы быстрее заснуть, если бы ты только попросила меня, — он говорит тихо, но ты уверена, что ваша саксонская рабыня всё равно его слышит. Она с трудом понимала ваш язык, и прибыла к вам недавно. На самом деле ты была той, кто купил её, думая, что она будет хороша в работе по хозяйству, но ты заметила, как она вела себя рядом с твоим мужем и с тобой, и тебе это не нравилось.

— Может, в следующий раз, я так и сделаю.

Он снова тянется к тебе за поцелуем.

— Сванхилд приготовила вкусный завтрак. Тебе должно понравиться, — произносит Хвитсерк, но ты замечаешь, что девушка всё ещё не оборачивается на тебя.

Тебе не нравиться это. Она всегда так делала, обращала внимание только на твоего мужа, предлагала есть только ему, иногда даже готовила только на него. И сейчас она не предлагает тебе завтрак, ты уверена, что она ждёт, пока ты прикажешь ей подать тебе еду.

— Я не голодна. Потом поем. — Ты проходишься пальцами по волосам Хвитсерка, но кидаешь взгляд на девушку моложе тебя всего на пару лет. — Я хочу сходить в город. Мне нужно на рынок, купить немного ткани.

— Ладно. У тебя есть чем расплатиться? — интересуется Хвитсерк, возвращая внимание к еде.

— Да. Может, я задержусь, хорошо? Я хотела проведать Фрейдис.

Хвитсерк кивает, возвращаясь к своей еде.

***

Ты знала, что делала твоя рабыня. В отличии от неё, ты обладала умом. Поэтому уже несколько дней думала о том, что не одобрил бы твой муж. Хотя ты заметила безразличие Хвитсерка к девушке, ты просто была раздражена её неуважением к тебе, и сколько бы ты не разговаривала с ней, или не пыталась объясниться, ты заметила, что это было впустую.

Поэтому ты приходишь раньше положенного, заходя в дом без стука, и обнаруживаешь её слишком близко стоящей к твоему мужу, который склонился над ней. Они слишком близко. Его руки на её лице, а её на его талии.

— Т\И! — Хвитсерк отстраняется от рабыни. — Я просто помогал Сванхилд, её глаз, туда что-то попало, — Он выглядя как провинившийся щенок.

— Я отрублю тебе голову, ��сли ты не перестанешь так себя вести, — твой саксонский был хорошим, идеальным, потому что ты затратила много дней на его изучение, ещё когда впервые отправлялась в рейд.

Сванхилд сразу всё понимает, отходит от Хвитсерка, выглядящим удивлённым твоим познанием саксонского языка. Он смотрит на тебя так, будто видит впервые.

— Проваливай от сюда, займись своей работой. — Ты всё также говоришь на саксонском, прогоняя девушку.

Она молча и слегка напуганная убегает.

— Ты не говорила, что знаешь саксонский.

— Ты говорил, что любишь меня.

Хвитсерк виновато опускает взгляд, делая шаги к тебе.

— Она сказала, что ей что-то попало в глаз. Я просто пытался ей помочь.

— Она хочет трахнуть тебя. И если ты позволишь ей это сделать, я убью её у тебя на глазах и кастрируя тебя. — Твой голос на самом деле звучит пугающе, заставляя твоего мужа напрячься.

Но он всегда знал, что ты намного мягче и милее, чем кажешься, поэтому его губы растягиваются в довольной улыбке.

— Но ты не сказала, что разведёшься со мной.

Ты сдержанно выдыхаешь, чувствуя себя всё ещё слегка злой.

— У тебя не будет члена, Хвитсерк. Хотя мне нравится твой язык, язык есть и у многих хорошеньких женщин. — Ты пожимаешь плечами. — Зачем мне муж без члена.

Он хмурится от твоих слов и чувствует себя поникшим. Ты лишь проходишь мимо него, направляясь в вашу спальню.

***

Хотя твой муж не одобрял то, как правит Ивар, он всё ещё был его братом. Поэтому Хвитсерк собирался сегодня к нему. Ты же всё ещё валялась под мехами на вашей мягкой кровати. Одна нога была высунута, пока ты прижалась животом к матрасу, твои волосы были беспорядочно разбросаны по подушке, и это зрелище было по-настоящему прекрасно по мнению твоего мужа. Он с трудом отбросил мысль о том, чтобы не залезть снова под одеяла и не доказать свою привязанность к тебе.

— Я вернусь к обеду. — Хвитсерк наклоняется к тебе, оставляя один поцелуй у тебя на щеке.

— Я приготовлю что-нибудь. Не объедайся там.

— Люблю тебя.

— И я тебя.

Конечно, Хвитсерк никогда не сомневался в твоей любви к нему. Он знал, что ты дорожила им и чувствовала к нему, половина слов, которые ты бросала, чтобы напугать его, были не серьёзными. Он никогда не навредил бы тебе, Хвитсерк ценил тебя, потому что на самом деле он потратил много времени и сил, чтобы заполучить тебя в жёны. Ты была лучшем, в его жизни.

***

Конечно, ты никогда не сомневалась в привязанности своего мужа. Но ещё ты также не сомневалась, что он знает, какая ��ы. Тебе так легко удалось найти общий язык с его младшим братом не потому, что ты влюбилась в Хвитсерка, а потому что у вас было немало общего. То, что пугало всех, но не вас двоих. Эта кровожадность, это властолюбие и собственничество. Если бы Ивар увидел, как какой-то раб неуважительно себя ведёт по отношению к нему и пристаёт к его жене, он бы убил беднягу на месте. Поэтому твоему мужу следует сказать тебе спасибо, за то, что ты хотя бы вывела девушку в лес.

Конечно, это было ради сбора грибов и ягод. Ты отрезаешь очередной гриб, когда одновременно следишь за Сванхилд, которая собирала ягоды. Она наклонена слишком низко, чтобы заметить, как ты размеренно подходишь сзади.

***

Хвитсерк на самом деле не думал, что ты можешь убить вне рейда. Вернувшись домой, он оставляет несколько поцелуев на твоей щеке и шее. Его руки обвиваются вокруг твоей талии, заключая тебя в объятия.

— Как всё прошло? — интересуешься ты.

— Как обычно, — ворчит Хвитсерк.

— Почти всё готово, садись. — Ты оставляешь несколько поцелуев на его губах, чувствуя себя намного довольнее чем раньше.

***

Ты знаешь, что тебе следует быть более аккуратно, когда ты скажешь о том, что сделала сегодня днём. Поэтому ты просто надеялась, что он поймёт тебя правильно.

Тёплая вода ласкала твоё кожу, пока ты сидела напротив своего мужа. Хвитсерк привык, что обычно вы лежите вместе, прижавшись друг к другу. Но сейчас, ты захотела сесть напротив него. Он внимательно и с вожделением следит за тобой, поглаживая твои колени и бёдра. Ему хочется быть ближе с тобой, почувствовать твоё тепло, нежность, твою кожу и привязанность.

— Ты сегодня слишком тихая. — Хвитсерк оставляет поцелуй на твоей коленке. — Всё в порядке?

— Да. Всё хорошо.

Ты меняешься своё положение, пододвигаясь ближе к своему мужу и дотрагиваясь до его талии, обнимая его.

— Я сделала кое-что, что может напугать тебя, я предполагаю.

— И что же? — интересуется он.

— Я убила Сванхилд.

Ты видишь удивление в глазах Хвитсерка, который теряет дар речи на несколько мгновений. Он слегка поникает, пока ты наблюдаешь за ним.

— Иди сюда, — произносит он, приглашая тебя в свои объятия.

Ты прижимаешься к нему, занимая место уже ближе к нему, теперь прижимаясь спиной к его груди. Хвитсерк утыкается носом в изгиб твоей шее, он обнимает тебя одной рукой, вторую держит на твоей ладони. Ваши пальцы переплетаются.

Хвитсерк знал, какая ты. Он видел это ещё до того, как пытался завоевать твоё расположение и доверие. Ему на самом деле не на что жаловаться, потому что его любовь к тебе была безусловной.

[plus-size-reader]

Finally

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2070 words

Warnings: FLUFF

Summary: Hvitserk has always seen the reader as a warrior, but sometimes he forgets that she’s a woman too.  

—————————————————————————————————

You weren’t surprised to come upon both Ivar and Hvitserk sitting together, talking between themselves.

They did it often, more so now than ever.

What did surprise you though was when you heard Hvitserk mention how saddened he was that he’d yet to have children.

Of all the things he could have been thinking about in the eve of a great battle, you wouldn’t have guessed it was that but still, you didn’t question it.

In a lot of ways, you could understand where he was coming from.

So, after Ivar moved from his place, you took it over, the same topic of conversation now flooding your mind.

“I think I would like to have them too” you shrugged, allowing yourself to have a seat where his brother had just been, not bothering to rehash the conversation you’d overheard between the two men.

Everyone thought about having children.

It was just how you’d been raised, and how the Gods intended it to be.

It was how your society progressed and how your family's lines kept going. You would have been a fool to pretend that wasn’t the natural order of things, and that it wasn’t what you wanted.

Every woman wanted children.

Your mother had had them, and so had her mother, for as far back as your family had been and of all things, the last you wanted was to put an end to that cycle.

Still, it would have been a lie to say that your admission didn’t shock Hvitserk, at least a little.

In all the time that you’d known one another, he’d never thought about you wanting to have children, or even caring about something like that. Though, clearly, he’d been wrong.

“You’ll catch flies like that” you scoffed, gesturing to your friend's mouth, hanging slightly agape as he considered what you were telling him.

It was odd.

Not that he meant for his reaction to be offensive to you in any way. He just didn't have much control over what his face did when you said things like that.

“Sorry” he shrugged, the word leaving his lips quickly, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, and in a way, he had.

It was unavoidable.

“Do you really want to have them?” he repeated your words back to you, almost in awe of the answer he knew was coming before it could.

It just didn’t make sense.

If you wanted children all this time, why wouldn’t you have said something  before now? Why wouldn’t you have settled down and done it by now?

Most women your age had already married and had a few children by this point, and there was nothing stopping you from doing the same if it was what you really wanted.

“Is that so hard to believe?” you countered, not connecting the dots as to why this was so hard for him to understand.

As he knew well, it was just a part of your lives.

People had children and there was no reason you would be any different.

“I guess not. I just never thought about you as a mother” Hvitserk decided, trying not to offend you with every word he spoke.

You certainly could have been, and anyone would be lucky to have you as a wife, it just didn’t seem like what you wanted before today.

You had always been a great warrior.

You had a warrior’s spirit, and more heart than anyone Hvitserk had ever met.

That skill was something that had defined you as you grew older, and by this point, it seemed as though it was what you were meant to do with your life.

It didn’t surprise him to learn that you were quite skilled on the battlefield, when he finally found himself there, by your side all those years ago.

What did surprise him was the number of times you managed to catch him off guard.

This moment included.

Your desire to start a family genuinely wasn’t something he’d seen coming.

“And you see yourself as a father?” you teased, kicking your foot out just enough to bump his boot with your own, finding the whole thing quite humorous.

Your mother had always said you had the body of a mother, and a wife more than a warrior, but the truth was, neither you nor Hvitserk had ever perfectly fit either mold.

You simply moved in the direction the God’s pointed you without a second thought.

It had always worked for you before.

“Perhaps. There are quite a few things I could teach a child, wouldn't you agree?” Hvitserk doubled down, surely signing himself up for even more ridicule from you but doing it anyway.

If anything, he’d earned some of your good spirited torment.

“Of course, someone has to teach them how to eat half a bore in one sitting” you laughed, recalling just how sick he’d made himself on that evening, doing so out of spite and gluttony alone.

Hvitserk couldn’t help but laugh as well, considering the point you made happily.

You had a point.

As far as teaching impressionable children about life skills and survival, neither of you would thrive.

However, that didn’t mean the male in front of you had any doubts about how good of parents you’d be, regardless.

Your heart was made of gold, a gift from the Gods to Kattegat, and there was no possible way you couldn’t pass that on to whatever offspring you may have.

“It is a gift” he chuckled, feigning humility, unable to avoid the obvious truth to your statement. You could both teach children quite a few things, even more if you were together than apart.

It wasn’t until he realized that that he had an idea.

“We could have some” Hvitserk hummed, his words coming out of nowhere, so impulsive and ridiculous that you weren't even sure you’d heard them in the first place.

Surely he didn’t mean that.

He couldn't have meant that.

“I’m sure there is a much more fitting bride in store for you, Hvitserk” you allowed, waving off his comment as an ill received joke. It wasn’t the first he’d told, and it surely wouldn't be the last either.

It was true.

You were sure of it.

There was a beautiful woman out there somewhere, waiting to marry the esteemed Son of Ragnar and bear him as many children as he’d like.

There was no reason for him to fret about it now.

You certainly couldn’t imagine this day to be his last, battle or not, and after this, he had more reason than ever to start the family he so desperately wanted.

“I’m serious. Why shouldn’t we have a few little babes of our own, you and me?” he continued, shocking you with his commitment to the subject.

Most of the time, Hvitserk would have chuckled a bit and moved on to something else entirely but not this time.

For some reason, in the time since you’d sat down, he’d gotten it in his head that the two of you could have children with one another.

Out of nowhere.

“Because Hvitserk, we aren’t married and even if we were, who would raise them? You and I hardly have the time now” you asked, gesturing around you.

A hundred feet to your left, there was a man getting his arm crudely removed with an ax, and to your right was a pit of bodies, scattered about.

It was hardly the place for a child.

Let alone ‘a few’ children.

“We could get married. My feelings for you have never been a secret, and we deserve a family just as much as anyone else, perhaps even more” he kept going, his determination filling you with a familiar pride.

He had always been so passionate about the things he cared about, and you loved that about him.

Above everything else, you had never questioned his heart and whether it was in the right place or not.

Hvitserk was a good person, and the Gods had given you a gift when they brought him into your life.

“You really want to do that? To marry me? To have children together?” you recounted, a small smile blooming on your face as you took your turn considering what it would be like.

As you thought about what kind of father Hvitserk would be, and how you could take a break from all the fighting to raise children of your very own, warriors like their parents.

It was a welcome sight, you had to admit that.

He was right, about all of it.

Hvitserk had always cared very deeply for you, and never tried to keep that a secret. This wasn’t even the first time he’d proposed to you in all the years that you’d known one another, but it was the most serious.

In fact, this was the most serious you’d ever seen him in his life.

The man in front of you took a moment to answer, looking between you and his clasped hands before letting out a sigh of decision.

Of course he wanted that. By this point, he was convinced it was the only thing he wanted, above everything else.

“More than anything”

Again, that finality found its way into his voice, bringing you a peace you never thought possible without even meaning too.

All your life, Hvitserk had been the last one to take himself too seriously, to act as the most mature, prepared between the two of you but now, it was he who was trying to get you to settle down.

It almost felt as if the Gods were teasing you.

Not that you minded.

If Loki himself thought this a proper jest, you would have to thank him every day of the rest of your life.

“Alright, Hvitserk, but you must promise me one thing” you began, setting your sword down completely on the grass, and offering a hand to him which he took without hesitation, bringing him that much closer to you.

Almost too naturally, the male found himself kneeling in front of your seated frame, his hands clasping your own, resting in your lap.

In this moment, you could have asked anything of him and he would have done it happily.

Though, that wasn’t all that different from every other moment you two had shared together. Hvitserk was almost always prepared to pluck the sun from the sky if you asked.

Where you were concerned, he’d always find a way, so whatever it was you wanted from him now, it was yours.

No matter what it was.

“Promise me you aren’t doing this because we may die tomorrow” you prompted, freeing one of your hands to gingerly brush your thumb mindlessly over the bone as you looked into his eyes.

You knew he must have been feeling the pressure this war had brought on, just as you were, but that didn’t mean you wanted to make empty promises to one another.

Love was the most powerful thing in the world but it was also the most dangerous if wrongly placed.

You didn’t want him to promise his heart to you again if he didn’t intend to give it to you fully.

“When have I ever made such rash decisions?” Hvitserk teased this time, finding the fact that you two were having this conversation at all too good to be true.

He never would have thought he’d be here, in the middle of a warzone with the woman of his dreams, discussing children and weddings on the night before he could meet his gruesome end.

Thankfully, if there was one thing Hvitserk was especially good at, it was dealing with things as they arose, rather than having a plan ahead of time.

It was one of the reasons you two worked out so well as a team.

“I’m serious, Hvitserk '' you tutted back, your gentle stroking of his jaw coming to an abrupt stop as you urged the man in front of you to be serious for once, like he’d been before this moment.

You needed to know this was really what he wanted, every day, not just on days when you may get yourselves killed.

“Alright, alright. I promise” he hummed, the biggest grin you’d ever seen evident on his face when he finally realized just what you two had agreed to.

He was getting married.

To you.

Finally.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

I'm changing things up please could I request Hvitserk Ragnarsson with C for Cuddles? ♡

Vikings Masterlist

Request info

Hvitserk Ragnarsson SFW Alphabet Masterlist

Cuddles

Contains: Fluff

234 Words

Comment if you want to be tagged/removed

Would they like to cuddle? How do they cuddle?

"Hello my love." It was late or early morning, all you knew was that it dark and cold, "why are you home." Hvitserk nuzzled into your neck, "I couldn't stay away any longer, the bed at the cabin is too lonely without you." You chuckled softly, "can't you cuddle with Ubbe?" He huffed, "no, Ubbe doesn't smell nice like you." He settled into bed and wrapped his arms around your body, "yep, totally worth the trip in the cold."

"You need help." Hvitserk laughed, "no, I need to you to stay exactly where you are so I can get some sleep." You huffed, "what about me? You're crushing me." He kissed the back of your neck, "tough shit pretty girl."

****

You could hear people talking outside your room but it didn't matter, Hvitserk's arms were so warm and firm it was like nothing else existed. "Do we have anything planned for tomorrow?" He grumbled, "no my love, we don't. We can spend all day inside doing nothing." You giggled, "you mean we can spend all day inside eating?" He squeezed you tighter, "maybe, as long as I can hold you while I do it."

You shook your head, "I'm not sure how that's possible, maybe you can sit behind me." Hvitserk smiled, "great, I like to sound of that." You pressed a kiss to his forearm, "I am the luckiest woman in the world."

Fin

[way-too-addicted-to-fandoms]

😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️ PLEASE THEY'RE SO CUTE

Fallen Star III (Hvitserk x Reader)

Summary: Hvitserk learns something new about you. He shows you around Kattegat after he realizes that you feel like a prisoner

Warnings: fluffy

Part 1 II Part 2 II Vikings Masterlist

Hvitserk was true to his word. He never treated you like a thrall and never expected much from you. All he wants from you is your company. To talk to you and find out more about you. Not that there is much to say. You’ve lived the same life every day. Just watching people below you.

He, however, had more to tell you. He told you about his life, all the raids he’s been on, the wars he’s fought in and the women he’s loved. You listen to him closely, frowning at his words with your teeth tugging at your lip. You’ve only seen love from a distance but never experience it before.

It’s odd trying to readjust your sleeping schedule to sleep during the night instead of the day. Most times you’d manage to sleep, but there are nights that you will just stay outside and stare at the stars; your friends and family. You wonder if you ever miss you and if they’re watching you right now.

Keep reading

[miss-madness67]

The Broken Christian

Hvitserk x Reader

Vikings

In court, there was a Christian man named Athelstan that always looked sad. In his face lingered the expression of someone that has seen a lot during his lifetime, and he was not that old. Mostly, he tended to keep to himself in social gatherings, but he seemed rather close to King Alfred. Even though back then I was fairly new to the King’s villa, I heard he had not been there long either. Perhaps it was the desire to meet someone like myself, someone who was also lost in the vastness of court and the emptiness of etiquette. Or maybe there was just something in his dark eyes that attracted me to him. I am not sure what it was, nor do I care, but it was that sentiment there that lured me to speak to him.

Continue reading on:

AO3 / PA

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

When in Bali...

Summary: You were supposed to go to Bali with your partner for your one-year anniversary. Instead, you’re there alone, heartbroken. Will reuniting with a friend you know from a summer vacation in elementary school be able to fix it?

Beginning Notes: I was thinking about @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie’s fic challenge when I came up with this, but Bali sadly wasn’t on the prompt list. Still hoping that this'll do as good as Sandcastles.

Tagged: @bragisrunes @demon-of-the-ancient-world @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @alicedopey @batmandallyboy (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

Masterlist | requests are OPEN!

This summer holiday has been nothing short of awful. First, you catch your partner cheating on you two weeks before you’re supposed to fly, then you find out you can’t get your money back, and then, a wheel broke off of your suitcase. It’s a wonder you even made it to your resort alive.

Now, you’re at the pool, nursing a Mojito in hopes of soothing your heartbreak. There aren’t many people around. Most of them are probably going out. An elderly couple is suntanning across from the pool, there’s two kids throwing a ball in the shallow area and a guy at the bar that looks weirdly familiar. He’s practically devouring his chicken wings and you swear you know him.

The second you start looking away, the two of you make eye contact, and he gives you a bright smile, before returning to his wings.

It happens a few more times in the following days. Each time you see him, there’s this feeling you know him. But from where?

On your fifth day there, you eat dinner at the hotel’s buffet. You haven’t gone out once, either moping at the pool or your room. What’s the point without any company?

You grab this and that off the buffet, only avoiding the shrimps that look a little gray and the chocolate you’re saving for later. At your table, you’re completely alone, and you feel like you’re back in high school.

The stranger walks in, which confuses you, because you’ve seen him leave this hotel with a blond man a bunch of times while you were still lying at the pool. He hasn’t eaten here while you were there, not once.

Every table around you is deserted, and he still makes a beeline for yours. You send a silent curse to any god there might be but put on a friendly smile.

“Hey.” He says. “Saw you sitting all alone, and I thought I’d join you.”

“Hi.” You reply.

“I’m Hvitserk, by the way.” He tells you, holding out his hand. You pause. Hvitserk isn’t a common name, and you’ve only heard it once in your entire life.

You’re sitting on the beach near your parents, trying to save this sad sandcastle when you hear a shriek. Turning around, you see a blond girl your age throwing a crab into the sand after picking it off her leg, before running after a tall boy who’s laughing with sibling-appropriate malice.

“Hvitserk!” she screams. Behind her, a boy with dark hair cackles loudly, before the boy next to him elbows him.

The boy that is being chased runs up to you.

“You have to hide me!” he says, sitting behind you. “My sister is crazy!”

The blond girl that was chasing him isn’t impressed, crossing her arms to show that she can still see him, before she stalks off. You spent the rest of the afternoon ‘hiding’ Hvitserk and building more sandcastles. At some point, the darkhaired boy that was his younger brother crawled over, critizing your castle.

Third-grade you was crushed and immediately entered a sandcastle building contest with him, with Hvitserk as judge. For the rest of your stay in Spain, you and Hvitserk were inseparable.

Quickly, you shake it. “Y/N.” you reply. “Are you from Norway?”

“Yeah, I am actually.” Hvitserk says.

“That’s pretty far.” You comment.

“What about you?” Hvitserk asks.

“I’m studying in Australia, so Bali isn’t too far.”

“You’re really familiar.” Hvitserk blurts out suddenly. You laugh dryly.

“Does that line usually work for you?”

“No, I’m serious.” He insists. “Were you in Spain for summer vacation? Like in elementary school?”

“No fucking way.” You say. “You’re Hvitserk Lothbrok?”

He nods, and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god. I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Fate works in mysterious ways.” He says, making his voice a little too deep to be serious.

“How are Ubbe and Ivar? And Brynhildr and Aslaug?”

“They’re all good.” Hvitserk says. “But Brynhildr is actually called Sigurd. He’s trans.”

“Oh so he’s the blond guy I thought was your boyfriend.” You reply. Hvitserk grimaces.

“Ew, no! He’s my brother.” Then, he smirks. “Wait, have you been stalking me?”

“No.” you protest. “Well, maybe a little bit.”

“Are you saying I’m goodlooking?” Hvitserk asks, casually taking a fry from your plate.

“I’m saying that I’m heartbroken and bored. And yes, you are semi-attractive.”

Hvitserk makes an insulted noise. “All these years of friendship and you call me semi-attractive.”

You laugh, sliding your plate to him, which he happily accepts.

“Fine. Hvitserk, you are so hot and sexy that you’re making me forget why I ever dated my ex in the first place.”

“Good.” Hvitserk says. “What are you doing in Bali anyway?”

“Non-refundable one year anniversary trip.” You grimace.

“Ouch.” Hvitserk nods sympathetically.

“What about you?” you ask. It’s nice catching up with Hvitserk. He’s exactly like you remember. Well, maybe a bit more flirtatious.

“Yearly Aslaugssons trip. Except that Ubbe has a kid on the way and doesn’t want to miss his daughter’s birth.”

“I haven’t seen Ivar around.” You comment.

“He’s kind of turned into an edgelord so he refuses to leave his room to tan. Sigurd’s out with his fiancé today, and I wanted to cheer you up.”

“Did I look that sad?” you ask. After a pause, Hvitserk nods, before you both burst into laughter.

“You should come with us tomorrow. I’ve convinced Ivar to come along for drinks and tacos, and he’s taking his girlfriend. Sigurd’s taking his partner. Why don’t you come as my date, so I’m not alone?”

“I don’t know.” You say. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Ivar and Freydís will be very preoccupied, but Sigurd’s partner is a treasure. They’ll love you; I promise.”

You think about it for a second. It could be fun, and your ex cheated. It’s okay to go as a platonic date for Hvitserk three weeks post-breakup.

“Please?” Hvitserk asks, making puppy eyes at you.

“Fine. But only because you let me win against Ivar when my sandcastle was falling over.”

***

Why are you feeling so nervous? It’s only a night out with an old friend of sorts. You’ve put on the dress that was meant for your anniversary dinner, a long bodycon dress that makes you feel pretty even now, when you’re feeling out of sorts.

You kept your makeup simple because Hvitserk casually forgot to tell you the dresscode, but it doesn’t matter because you managed to tan enough that it made you look just a little bit refreshed.

Hvitserk knocks at your door right on time – which surprises you. You’d think that Ivar would be perfectly punctual, and Hvitserk ten minutes late at the very least, but he’s there, and he’s smiling brightly, just like he did when he was still a kid.

“Hi.” You say, grabbing your purse off the desk and closing the door behind you. “How’s your day?”

“Getting better and better.” Hvitserk jokes, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious, you’re looking good.” He insists.

“I better. Spent at least an hour overthinking this dress when I bought it.”

“Yeah. Would be a pity if the dress went to waste.” Hvitserk murmurs, before he lets you out of the room and leads you to the entrance of the resort. There, Ivar and Freydís are already waiting.

“I thought Hvitserk was talking shit when he said that the Y/N was also in Bali.” Ivar greets you. He’s standing upright now, supported by legbraces and crutches.

“Still salty about my sandcastle being better than yours?” you ask, and he rolls his eyes.

“Mine was clearly better. I’d say the judge was only a bit partial.”

“Freydís.” His girlfriend introduces herself.

“Y/N.” you answer. “Where’s Sigurd?”

“Him and Gale are already there. They said they wanted to enjoy the music a bit before Hvitserk begins ordering the entire menu.” Ivar replies. Hvitserk snorts, absentmindedly grabbing your hand as the four of you start walking. You blush furiously, but don’t let go. Not quite yet.

The restaurant is right at the beach, and a stranger comes bounding up as soon as you cross the threshold.

“You guys are just on time.” They announce. “Sigurd wanted to start ordering appetizers, even though that’s clearly Hvitserk’s assigned job.”

They go around hugging everybody and hug you too. “You must be Y/N.” they say.

“Yeah.” You reply.

“Sigurd told me you gave him your dessert once after Hvitserk ate his while he was in the restroom.”

“That was only because he braided her hair so nicely.” Ivar says sarcastically. So Sigurd and Ivar are still always fighting. You think.

Gale leads you to the table, where Sigurd is talking to a waiter. He hands Hvitserk the menu blindly, whose eyes immediately lights up. Ivar was right – Hvitserk orders six out of the eight appetizers on the menu.

“How are you going to eat all that?” you ask.

“My stomach knows no bounds.” Hvitserk replies. You all sit down, and Sigurd hands you a drink.

“It’s good to see you.” Sigurd greets. “I ordered a Mojito for you. Hvitserk mentioned you were obsessed.”

“Good to see you too.” You reply, before you turn to Hvitserk. “I am not THAT obsessed with Mojitos.”

“Yeah, you only had them each time you ordered from the poolbar.”

“Who’s the stalker now?” you fire back.

Appetizers come and go, as well as the main course, and Hvitserk keeps true to his promise, devouring everything that comes near his plate. At some point, Gale decide that they are full, and Hvitserk happily accepts their plate.

You catch up with Sigurd, since Ivar is making hearteyes at Freydís, who is talking to Gale and Hvitserk. He tells you all about the things you missed since Spain. From Ivar’s braces and his transition to Ubbe and Bjorn setting the BBQ on fire during a family reunion.

At the end of dinner, everyone except Hvitserk is stuffed, and getting ready to head back to the hotel.

“You and Y/N should stay, have dessert and catch up some more.” Freydís suggests, throwing Ivar one of those looks that only your longterm partners or siblings can understand. However, Ivar’s mouth not-so-subtly tugs into a smirk.

Before you can protest, all four of them are gone, Ivar handing Hvitserk some money for the check, who happily accepts while reading through his dessert options.

“Let’s share.” He suggests

“Share food? With you?” you say, only half-joking.

“We shared your fries.” He reminds.

“That wasn’t really decided by me.” You laugh. He hands you the menu, pointing out both options. In the end, you go for lava cake with vanilla ice cream, and Hvitserk scoots closer as the waiter brings a last round of drinks, courtesy of Ivar.

“I’m actually getting hungry for dessert.” You tell Hvitserk. What you don’t tell him is that all those drinks have made you slightly tipsy and Hvitserk is starting to look even better than before.

“And my stomach knows no bounds?” Hvitserk asks. You groan, leaning back against him.

“I think eating even more is a shit idea, but I really love lava cake.” You admit. Hvitserk puts an arm around you, and you don’t mind at all.

“Did you know I had a crush on you in Spain?” Hvitserk suddenly blurts out. You sit back up, staring at him.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s true!” he insists. “Honestly, I can understand younger me perfectly.”

You laugh, but you feel yourself growing nervous – in a good way. For a moment, you think back to your ex, but honestly, the feelings for them haven’t been very strong for a few months already.

“So you’re saying you have a crush on me now?” you ask. Before Hvitserk can answer, the waiter sets down the dessert. You both dig in, and holy fuck – it’s good.

“I take it back, eating this is a great idea.” You say between bites.

“I might have a crush on you now.” Hvitserk says after swallowing his first bite. Surprised, you cough, some of the cake getting stuck in your throat. Hvitserk smacks your back, until you can breathe again.

“Couldn’t that wait until I had swallowed?” you ask, your eyes teary.

“Oh yeah. Sorry about that. Want me to kiss it better?”

You had forgotten how forward Hvitserk was.

“Uhh...” you mumble. “Sure?”

He leans forward, softly kissing you. You almost protest when he pulls back. You finish the dessert in comfortable silence, and on the way home, Hvitserk holds your hand again.

Dutifully, he drops you off at your hotel room, but before he can go, you pull him down to kiss him. After a few seconds, Hvitserk deepens the kiss, and holy fuck, he was an amazing kisser. Out of breath, you break apart.

“I’ll see you at the pool tomorrow?” you ask.

“Yeah.” He says. “I guess I should go to Bali more often, if it turns out like this.”

[golddaggers]

wreck my plans (hey, that's my man)

pairings: hvitserk x reader, dad!hvitserk x daughter!ofc

warnings: nsfw! so +18. nothing too wild, he gets a bit jealous, semi-public touching, sex, oral sex. loads of cursing.

a/n: so i am going through a phase. look. i don't know. bear with me. to the people who still read the shit i write, thank you soooooo v much. and yeah, this blog is officially a mess. there's also more ubbe coming so welp, my viking fever is getting intense. you also can read this story on my ao3 profile :)

word count: 4,3k+

Ever since you met him, green has become your favourite colour. You could spend days and days just staring at those eyes, that shimmered with amusement whenever he caught you looking. Today, however, the roles had been reversed, it had been yours shining because he wouldn’t stop scrutinising the littlest movement you made. Attuned to the smallest of details.

Ivar had put together a celebration for his wedding. Several pitchers of ale and mead, roasted meat, fish and lamb, whichever one might prefer, with cooked potatoes and fresh herbs. Endless chunks of black bread, cheese, and honey. Not even five hundred men could’ve been able to topple down this banquet. You had a hunch your brother-in-law hoped Thor would visit him, it was the only thing that could explain why he put the cooks under the strain of providing so much food.

The invited people cheered him on. They spoke in loud voices, between the contagious fits of laughter, above the glee music that brought couples to the centre of the room, dancing. You’d been invited to twice. The first had been by Ubbe. Your best friend never drifted too far away from you, more so when you were with child, he’d orbit around you to make sure you were okay, well-fed and pleased. Hvitserk himself wasn’t this protective of you, and he was obnoxious to a fault, his hands always finding their way to rest on the soft round of your stretched stomach. You danced, Ubbe leaning in to whisper in your ear that you looked so lovely his brother had been rendered unable to fight the inevitable pull of you, his sight unwavering towards you. The second one, however, had put your husband in a sour mood. He didn’t like Leif one bit, it made him queasy that you had been pursued by him.

As soon as the song was over, Hvitserk rose to a stand, making his way to you, not even bothering that he’d stumbled some people in the crowded trail to where you were. His hand found the dip in your waist, pulling you back so you were flush up against him. Though you couldn’t look at it, you knew his semblance had been a warning. You search for his hand, twinning it with yours, and offer Leif a measured, polite smile, then walk away, Hvitserk threading behind you as a lost child.

You find your baby girl sitting next to her uncle. Little Hildi was the light of Ivar’s eyes, you had never seen him beam before she was born. He was yet to have his children, though you felt no one would take the soft spot your girl had carved in his heart. All the love he hadn’t given to his brother, he was sure to give his niece. It also meant she was taken care of, so you could slip away with your husband without probing looks from others, lost in the faces of the mass. When the festivities were over, Ivar would take her back to their home.

You intend to take him back to your house, drop to your knees and show him that there’s no other man that you would ever do this for. Hvitserk, on the other hand, seems to have other plans swimming in his mind when he stops in his tracks as soon as you’re out. The chilled breeze of early spring makes you shudder, but when he touches you, you feel warm everywhere. Tingling, shaking with anticipation.

“Think it’s cute?” His voice dips low as he pins you to a wooden wall. He’s brought you to a narrow alleyway, not at all secluded, though the night’s darkness forbids others from seeing who are the lovers lost to their passions there.

“What?”

“Making me jealous,” He points out, his hips tight on yours. “Do you think it’s cute?”

“‘M not trying to make you jealous, my love,” The hard touch of his cock against you makes a whimper slip out. “Never. I’m yours.”

“Fuck yeah you’re mine,” The green becomes a slim ring around the dilated pupils. “Don’t and won’t share you with anyone. Mine.”

It’s a sound akin to a wolf growling that he lets slip. He begins to lift your skirt, the hot, feverish skin exposed prickles, and your lips part in a tremulous gasp. You knew what he was going to do, you also knew you should stop him. Then he fell to his knees, glancing up at you while he kissed your inner ankle. It’s a view that you can’t resist. Hvitserk, when he wants, can always get away with his biddings.

He pushes down the short, linen braies you had on, balling it up to shove deep in his pocket. The cool gush of air makes you gasp, which, on its account, makes him smile. Proud of himself. He’s a big teaser. He loves to see how much he can delay his skilled touches until you beg. Until you’re whimpering him to please do something.

His cheek mashes against your thigh, it forces your legs to drift so he can fit in the snug between them. The soft rubbing of his hands is the only grounding you can get as your mind starts to spin with how close he is. Hvitserk bites a patch of tender flesh before grunting, your cunt on display for him to do as he pleased. Even in the wavering light, he could catch the gleam of your slick pooled at where you thrummed overcome with desire.

The pad of his thumb finds its way to your clit in one fleeting touch. You groan in frustration, rolling your hips towards him, beseeching. His concealed laugh fans warm air all over you, a broken cry filling the night’s silence in reply.

“I should take you right here,” He muses, a quick nip on the flesh of your inner thigh. “So anyone who wanders by knows who you belong to.”

“Serk…” The sound is so pitiful you can see a gleam of compassion on his face, but you know better than to think he would be so pliant. “Everyone knows I’m yours. And everyone knows you’re mine.”

He scoffs then rises to a stand, and his full height makes you feel small. Your skirt falls back to its original place, rustling as it slides down your legs. His sudden draw-back leaves an uncomfortable aftertaste, you feel the emotion bubble at the bottom of your throat. The second pregnancy has left you even more emotive, always bursting at the seams.

Hvitserk runs his knuckles along with your cheekbone. It was crystal clear that the welling tears had got through him. He never knows just how to act when you are upset, so he just looks at you, a silent offer of his unspoken care. You aren’t sad or angry at him, but you haven't been able to keep yourself in check, which you do often for his sake.

You lean into him, on your tippy-toes to wrap your arms around his neck. His gentle embraces feel like the first breeze of summer, warm and with the hope to bloom.

The way back home is quiet. No one meanders the cobblestoned streets, no houses seem to have inhabitants. Ivar made a point to invite everyone, so they’d see him wed the love of his life. You remember what it feels like, to be so in love you want the whole world to witness it. To savour, to envy. When you married Hvitserk, a good few years ago, now, you felt the same. An urge to let all the others be assured that this man was yours, that this love, his love, was worth screaming about.

His hand is looped with yours, as he leads the way up a narrow path that leads to the front door of your home. It was built a little far-off from the city, surrounded by bright green grass that threaded with geraniums during spring, and it's hidden amidst tall trees. Wild animals often roam about, your cooks drove insane with them ruining the backyard garden with the fresh spices they use to prepare supper. You wouldn’t have liked to live anywhere but.

As expected, your servants aren’t there when Hvitserk swings the door open. It’s dark, the candles are long blown out. Once inside, however, you feel a pleasant balmy air shroud you, so the fireplace must’ve been fed new logs, its screaming orange flames a source of light for you to take in the smooth features your husband now donned. He pushed you down in a soft, caring motion.

You struggle to find a comfortable seat. Each day, it seemed, your baby grew bigger, your tummy a pointy thing that made it hard to sleep, stand too long on your feet, or even breathe in a normal fashion. It always seemed like you ran a marathon. He bends to kiss the crown of your head, then disappears into the darkness.

Only the gentle creep of dying wood filled the room. You stretch your hands to gather some heat, the tips of your fingers tingling as blood comes rushing to warm them up. Your cheeks sting, too. The warmth seems to wake the sleeping dragon that rests within, your baby moving around, stretching and kicking. You can’t bite back the smile while you touch your stomach, in hopes that the soft shushing would put the boy at ease.

Hildi was always the quiet babe. Even when she was born, she did not cry, not until the midwife slapped her tiny tush. You could see him embedded in the last fibre of her being. They were both good at playing people, using their sharp tongues to sneak out of harsh punishments, too smart for their own sake. She was her father’s daughter in every sense.

It softened you out to see him so devoted to her. You thought, when you were told you had a healthy baby girl, he’d slight her. His green eyes, that you saw each time she looked at you, had glistened in genuine happiness. Hvitserk was enamoured by Hildi, taken by her in a way you didn’t think he’d be. Part of you wondered, now that you were so certain you’d be giving him a son, that he would dismiss his firstborn to regard his first boy.

“Is everything okay, my sweetness?” His voice is pinch lower, hushed as he sits beside you. There’s a puzzling hint that scrunches his face. “You seem lost in thoughts.”

“Do you love Hildi?”

“More than anything.”

“More than me?” You bite the tip of your tongue so as not to smile.

“She’s my princess, my baby girl, I love her more than anything in the world,” Hvitserk leans closer, nestling his face between the soft plush of your breasts. “But I love her momma more.”

“Will you love this boy more than you love you love her?”

His chin rests at your collar when he looks up at you, confused, “What?”

“I just… I don’t want her to feel neglected. She adores you, you know,” Your fingers slid to the end of his braids, tugging at the rubber bands that keep them in place. “I know it’s important to have sons, but I want her to be seen, too.”

Hvitserk straightens up, taken aback by your abrupt confession. You feel his lips on yours not too long after. It’s not harsh or passionate. It’s gentle and soft, like the forehead kisses he gives her each time she leaves for a riding lesson with her uncle. All the love you feel for him boils in your blood. It makes you want to scream out loud. Your love is a body of water that would flood an entire city.

You press your forehead to his, “What was that for?”

“Sometimes I think you’re not real,” He discloses in a little voice, but you feel the weight of the words he’s speaking. “I wonder if this life I now have is not some figment of my imagination to safeguard me from the rotten reality I must be in.”

“My love,” A soft plea for him to dismiss those thoughts almost tumbles out, but before you have the chance, he quiets you with a finger.

“I love our house, coming home to a screaming Hildi that will hang on one of my legs like the nasty little monkey that she is and coming home to you, to kiss you, to kiss your pregnant belly. I don’t care if the babies you give me are boys or girls. All of this is more than I think I deserve.”

“Hvitserk,” You call for him, your mouths meeting in a desperate kiss. You’re not used to having him be so open about what he feels, it suits him. “You deserve so much more. You should know you settled for me because you could have any woman your heart would desire-”

“I don’t want anyone else,” It’s an even, pure statement. His eyes flicker with earnest. “You should know, though, that Ivar taking a liking to you has made it possible for me to keep you.”

“I have to disagree… Ivar could hate me, and still, he couldn’t take you away from me. I’d tear anyone apart before they take you from me.”

The timid light bounces on the mischievous smile he’s got all over his face. Hvitserk helps you to a stand, your back facing him. It was his favourite mundane activity, undressing you. Each delicate button was undone, his aptitude far exacerbated for a man such as him. You had seen him fight, seen him wield weapons as thick as one’s thigh. The first time he stripped you, you couldn’t stop your mouth from hanging open. Stunned that he had such a mastery.

Each layer is unbound until you’re standing naked. He kisses the crook of your neck, then up to the shell of your ear, where he tells you how gorgeous you look. Your nipples, enlarged and darkened, are hard, too sensitive when he twists them, his mouth busy scraping each available patch of skin. The sounds you make echo across the empty room.

That’s a sight you could never get accustomed to, him, on his knees, wielding his strongest weapon, those hungry eyes, at you. Hvitserk had cornered you against a wall, parting your legs so he’d have a taste. Not the first taste today. He had to have you before leaving the house to tend to his daily tasks. His index finger runs down your cunt, bullying the snug entrance, not quite sliding it in, a taunting that brought a hefty weight to the bottom of your tummy.

He brings his finger to his mouth, sucking the tip. His delight hum does things to your body, it’s a hoarse, untamed noise that pulls out a frustrated groan. Hvitserk repeats this sequence of hellish steps until tears roll down your cheeks, too distressed to have him touch you. Not fading touches, no, you wanted the ones that would be certain to undo the budding knots coiling inside you.

The primal sound he makes when the back of your knee is set on the curve of his shoulder, and his tongue gets all the free room to do whatever he finds suitable, turns you into a weak stew. A pathetic, meek thing that’s been held up by the iron grip of his hands that steady the undulating of your hips. Hvitserk takes and takes and takes, like a man who’s known hunger would eat.

All the while he’s looking right up at you, devouring you in more ways than one. You rest your palm over his own, a quiet request for him to hold it while you let go. He complies, the warm meshing of fingers releases a wave of tenderness that envelops you. Even at his most distraught times, never once had you felt like he didn’t care for you. It was what made you fall in love with him, this unspoken bubble of sincere affection that would will into stillness the fiercest ocean.

His honey words reach your ears, hushed while he’s still busy between your thighs, lips wrapped around you in a salacious kiss. You were dangling from his lips, such as mead that trickles down the barrels after being poured into a cup. A thin thread that each assault of his soft tongue tore it further, unravelling. The pleasure was just a puff away, numbing the edges of your head until it snapped.

Hvitserk holds you through the trembling of limbs, the sputtered curses. His murmurs only spur you further, your hands shaking as you try to hold on to something. A tower built so high that when it toppled down, it shook the grounds, that’s what it felt like. Each time, it seemed, he cemented it higher, so when it crumbled, you’d be stuck in a haze.

You don’t acknowledge him taking you to the room, so soon after he kisses the jut of your stomach, whispering words to the unborn babe. He lies you on the bed, cradled in furs to protect you from the cold, then moves away. His laugh fills the room when you whine, like a child being denied staying up a little later. But being apart from him was lonely, regardless of whether it was miles or steps. You always longed for his skin against yours.

When he joins you, he no longer bears the heavy coatings, all bare for the touching, that you can’t help but do. His fingers trail down your back, a kiss pressed to your forehead as he scoops you closer to lie your head on his chest.

“Want you to take me, my love,” You ask, your hand splayed across his chest. “I can, now. And I want you to.”

The air shifts when he chuckles, it’s almost dismissive. In one quick swivel, however, he’s hovering above you, settled between your thighs. You feel him, so hard, so wanting. Hvitserk finds your lips with his first, biting down on the tender flesh, the tip of his nose bumping against yours.

“I love you,” He says in a serene, serious tone. “Love you so fucking much, you know that?”

“I love you, too, honey,” You tug at the hairs in the nape of his neck. “You should hurry up. Who knows when Ivar will bring Hildi back? He could be on his way.”

“Got myself an insatiable woman,” It’s only a half-joke, though you still laugh. “I’m sorry, for earlier.”

“You don’t have to worry, Hvitserk son of Ragnar Lothbrok,” His eyes gleamed with playfulness. “I’m fucking yours. Now show it to me just how much you want to claim me.”

He bites a tender spot below your ear, one hand going between your bodies so he can finger you and smear your slick around. Only when he’s satisfied with the mewling noises you’re making, do you feel him fist himself. Once, twice, then the fat head of his cock teases the snug heat of your entrance, breaching you at a slow, torturous pace.

Your legs are spread apart so you can take him, so deep into you it’s like he’s rooted. Both stay in a quiet moment of stillness, relishing the soft surrender that making love feels like. His face is hidden in the crook of your neck, his feather touches lighting up a fire within, your sweat-slick skin aching, so responsive to him. To the coarse fingers squeezing, to the small puddle of brownish hairs on his chest scraping yours. Every detail drove you insane.

By the time he moves, it’s measured, stagnant. It’s atypical, your husband can become a different being in the throes of passion, what with the slaps, the foul, dirty names he calls you, and with how hard he gives it to you. Making love is quite a rarity, which makes you appreciate it even further. Though his regular satiates the hunger in both your bones, this, it’s beyond the alluring satisfaction a high can give, it’s a connection. You like when he allows himself to peel away the hard shell he shrinks into every day.

Hvitserk kisses your cheek, then your temple, your forehead, your nose, your lips. His snaps grow harder, though just as deliberate, a hot wave of pleasure hitting you each time his hips meet yours, the friction enough to turn your brain into mush. Gods, how was it fair that this man could be so good at this? He had spoiled you for others. Spoiled you good.

His hips stutter.

“Gods, you feel so fucking amazing,” He groans into your ear, his fingers digging deeper into the flesh they held. “Mine. All fucking mine.”

“Yours, my love,” You clutch a handful of his hair, pulling him up for a breathless kiss. “I’m so… so…”

“I know, baby doll,” His grunt breaks a dam inside, the building pressure tighter and tighter.

He does it before you. Scorching hot spurts of spend, like he’s trying to put another baby inside you before the other even comes out. Hvitserk bites one of your nipples, moaning your name over and over. Perhaps it was when you fell. Wrung up to the breaking point until you split, a bone-crunching fall that had the loudest moans spilling past your lips.

Your toes curled, your heels dug into the back of his thighs. It’s a fire that licks your body, that rattles, shakes, then turns all muscles into lead, falling limp beneath him. An exhausted chuckle fills the short space between you, and your husband inclines to search your mouth in a feverish press of lips. You close your eyes for a beat, savouring how close he is, how your bodies are mended together.

It’s a while before he rolls to your side, his hand finding yours in the mess of sheets. Both of you enjoy a quietude that only a lover can provide to the other. You love his presence so very much that just this, lying side by side, it’s enough. You are not greedy, this life, regardless of how little he thinks it is, it’s more than you could have wished for. He brings you to the warmth of his arms, where you remain until the first raps on the door.

How much time had slipped away, you had no clue, but when he stood, pulling on linen breeches and a woollen tunic, you realised that could only be your daughter being brought back home. The missing piece to your happy family. While he disappeared to fetch her, you force yourself to stand up so you’d be dressed by the time she comes to you.

“Momma, momma!” Her childish little squeals warm your heart. “Uncle Ivar says I’m not just getting a little brother, but also a cousin, isn’t that wonderful?”

Hildi runs to wrap her arms around your hips, her chubby tiny face pressed to the round of your belly. Hvitserk rests against the threshold, arms crossed over his chest and a beaming smile on his face. You could taste on the tip of your tongue how happy he was, how accomplished he felt to have built this life with you.

“Yeah, cricket, yes, it is.”

“Papa says I can sleep with you tonight?”

“Did he, now?” You look at him, his face turning sheepish.

Wearing that look, he’s once more the boy you fell in love with, back when you were a bit older than your daughter is now. A boy that’s up to no good. Gods, if you’d known. That one day, when you joined a playful sword fight with him, that he’d be the one, you would never have let him slip away from your fingers. Sometimes, when there’s nothing else but the eerie silence of your thoughts, you regret the lost time. You could’ve held him. Could’ve protected him from the hurt he went through.

You'd break your heart in two if it means he'll be happy.

“Can I, momma?” She pushes, her chin resting on your stomach. “Please? Asa sleeps with Uncle Ubbe and Aunt Torvi all the time, she told me!”

“Of course you can,” You pinch one of her cheeks. "First you need to take off those feast clothes."

You mean to start removing her garments, but you are stopped before you get the chance to even touch her silver kransen. Hvitserk lifts her into his arms, her legs dangling as she settles on his hip, and he takes her to her bedroom. You smile at the gesture, your hand falling to yet again quell the restless growing babe. He’d woken again, moving around as if feasting inside your womb.

The room has dipped a degree colder, you shrink within the thin chemise you have on, though you dismissed it as quick as it rattled your body. It’s come to your attention the mess you’ve made, pillows and furs and linen sheets sprawled, tossed to the ground. You groan when dropping to your knees to pick them up, returning them to their original place.

Hildi is half-asleep on his lap when your husband returns. Her small fist clings to the collar of his tunic, her green eyes fluttering between closed and opened. Hvitserk nestles her between the bundle of covers, then he moves to you. Your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders. Inside his hug, you get to hear the even heartbeat.

“See?” He says in a hushed whisper.

“What, elskr?”

“Whenever I’m with you, I always feel calm,” Your hand splays over his chest, and he rests his own above yours. “My heart never beats faster, never slower, always even. You’re my calmness after the wildest of storms.”

“You already married me, Serk, why are you wooing me like this?”

“‘M not wooing you,” His chuckle raises goosebumps all across your skin. “I’m making sure you know that you’re everything I need.”

You pull his hand to the swell of your left breast, “You’re my calmness, too.”

He moulds your body against him when you’re back to bed, comfortable under the heavy blankets. And this, sleeping cradled between his arms, watching your daughter sleep in such peace, it’s your definition of happiness.

[vikingsarememes]

Me, writing a new multi chapter fic: okay so in this story, Y/N will hate Ivar with all of her guts!

Me, after a couple of chapters when I mistakenly made Ivar too appealing and Y/N is now falling for him: well, fuckity fuck!

[mystic-shadows42]

Savior of the Forsaken

A/N: Not edited

Pairing: Hvitserk x reader

Warnings: Language, sexual innuendo, and violence

Summary: Hvitserk tries to move past Thora’s death by going raiding. He can’t help but protect the woman in the wedding dress who’s being chased.

It was supposed to be your wedding day. Married to the man whom your parents arranged for you to marry.

It all happened so fast. One minute you were at the altar placing your hands over your betrothed’s when the doors were flung open bringing in the snow from outside.

Everyone screamed when they saw the heathens with their weapons in hand. Chaos ensued afterward. Everyone ran in every direction in a panic. People began to push each other knocking those who were too slow at reacting to the floor. It didn’t matter if those inside were well-mannered Christians. All that went out the door when fear struck.

You got lost in the crowd but knew your best hope was somewhere other than staying inside. When you made it outside you were halted with the piles of bodies lying all around.

You had never seen such a sight before in your life. It was grisly to think how a person could do this to another living soul. In your shocked state, a pair of doors squeaked harshly causing you to turn your attention towards it. There was a group of rough dirtied heathen men staring back at you.

“There’s your prize men. Whoever catches the bride will have her in any way he wants.” Their leader spoke trying to get his men riled up for the chase that was about to ensue. He was intimidating to look at with identical tattoos on both halves of his face.

All the men cheered and began to run when their leader threw his hands up.

You ran as hard and as fast as you could with the harsh cold wind rushing against you. It was hard to tell where you were going but all you knew was that you weren’t far enough when the sounds of yelling seemed to draw closer.

It was nearing an impossible cold that you could hardly bear to be in when a sharp pain brought you to the ground. It was a rabid dog that snarled at you.

You ripped off a piece of your dress and stuffed it into the dog’s mouth pushing it away before climbing up the nearest tree. Hiding within a tree wouldn’t do much but if they had dogs out here too then you were closer to death than you originally thought.

It didn’t help that you could feel the dripping of your blood run down your foot. Had you still been on foot it would’ve been worse. You shivered trying your best to gather as much strength as you could to climb.

If you were to die, you’d rather it be the harsh weather than by these heathens. You knew the ways of men, heathen or not, they all had ill intentions when gathered with others for no one to bear witness to the horrors they inflict.

There was no one out here. You were past any help and these men did not care to cater to your cries. They held no sympathy for women who weren’t of their own tribe.

“Why are you hiding? You should be down here servicing my cock. It’s in need of some warmth.”

The men laughed haughtily. They all began to gather after they alerted each other of your presence. They began to throw rocks, laughing whenever they hit you.

As if that wasn’t enough, they began to shoot arrows into the tree. Some hit just mere inches from your fingers. Too close to count your blessings now. No prayer would save you. The bishops were wrong to teach Christian women to pray to god. Praying for mercy would only entice them to further humiliate you.

You knew their insults held true. Where was God now? How could he allow this when you aren’t at fault? Their words were getting to you. They were testing your faith, trying to break you down.

“Come on down bride to be,” the raspy voice of who you assumed to be their leader spoke. “Your betrothed offered you to us just before we killed him. He died a coward squealing like the swine he was.”

He boasted and laughed with his men. Your cold hands shook with both fright and the cold. You hoped the latter of the two would kill you before they even reached you.

What seemed to be like hours in the making there was a pounding of a horse’s feet galloping in the snow.

“That’s enough, Harald. You’ve all had your fun. Now let her go.” Hvitserk was in no mood for games especially the one they were playing currently. Had he not been melancholy he would sure be enjoying himself and in on the fun but he was in no mood.

He grew tired of the games. He thought of Thora and how he’d never want her to be the focal point of a joke and played with like a piece of meat.

“Oh, come on Hvitserk. I’ll let you be the first to try her. It’ll be my treat to you.”

You looked down at the two men speaking. The one speaking in your favor got off his horse and challenged the man that taunted you.

“No games Harald. Let her go. I won’t ask again,” he challenged.

Harald simply threw his hands up. “I can’t. These men want a woman more specifically the bride. It’s been a long trip here. Are you going to deny them the pleasure of a woman?”

The strong gust of wind blinded your vision from seeing what went on below. Everything hurt and was starting to become unbearable being sheltered in one place.

Hvitserk walked up to the tree that you were occupying. You hid as much of yourself as you could behind the broad tree branch.

“Come with me. I promise I won’t hurt you,” his voice was low and gentle.

Your bottom lip trembled whether from the cold or the thought that there was no other means of escape.

You shook your head not wanting to trust any of them.

“You have a choice. Stay up there and freeze to death or take my hand and I shall offer you protection.” His voice held firm.

“Promise,” you whispered.

“I promise.” He held his hand out to you that you hesitantly took. Once you placed your hand over his you settled yourself over the branch and into his arms. He held you by the waist as he gently placed you down.

You were off-balance not having the feeling come back to your legs quite yet. You backed up into your savior finding more comfort with him than the rest.

The heathens that surrounded you stared longingly. Their faces were clear with anger but they didn’t make any move to cease you or the man leading you to his horse.

He helped you up onto his stallion while he settled himself behind you. When the man wrapped his arm around your body, you shuddered. He moved slowly after that assuring you that he meant no harm.

The man with a raspy voice grabbed the reins. “Know that you’re choosing them over us Hvitserk. Is she really worth it?”

The man who you now knew the name of didn’t say anything back. He took the reins back and made the horse go forward. Your mind was reeling with what this man could possibly want. He wasn’t going to let you go if he had you with him now, yet he hadn’t shown any ill will.

Once the horse slowed down and the ocean came into view with various boats, you broke your silence.

“What do you plan on doing with me?”

He got off the horse and gripped your waist as he brought you down in front of him. He shuffled in his pack stuffing the contents back swinging it over his shoulder before walking down to the boats. You were appalled just standing there. Do you run away to escape or were you expected to follow?

You considered your options but as much as you wanted to flee you couldn’t. You could barely move your body without wincing.

The cold had did a toll on your body. Another downturn was that the place you once called home was surrounded by heathens. Everything was either ransacked or in ruins.

You wrapped your arms around your body figuring it was all pointless. No matter the outcome your life wouldn’t be yours.

Hvitserk turned around once he noticed you weren’t following. You walked to him slowly closing your eyes and scrunching your face when the pain became too much. He sighed out loud and made his way to you.

You looked down at the floor and felt ashamed for what you were about to say.

“End it.”

“What?” He took a few more steps forward until he was just an arms reach away.

“End my life. Having me around will only make things worse for me and you.” He propped your chin up and tilted his head not understanding. “What do you plan on doing with me anyway? I can’t fight. I won’t have my body taken against my will. Your people aren’t happy with what you did for me already. So just end it, please.”

Hvitserk squinted his eyes at you then took off his fur coat placing it over your shoulders. You narrowed your brows at him in confusion.

“I’m not going to end your life. There’s been enough killing as there is.”

“So what do you plan to do with me?”

“Keep you safe.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond before bending down and scooping you up in his arms. A small sound emitted from your lips not expecting him to pick you up. You placed one hand over his shoulder to steady yourself.

He carried you to one of the grand ships. The many heathens that passed by stared but Hvitserk paid them no mind. Once you made it onto the ship he sat you down on one of the benches. He sat next to you slowly wrapping an arm around your body to gain warmth.

“Will you keep me as your prisoner?”

From what you picked up from this man was that he was unlike the others. He seemed somewhat disconnected. Sad if you will.

“If keeping you as my thrall is what keeps you safe then so be it.” He said it low but he kept eye contact with you the whole time.

“I’ll be your slave then? Is that what you’re telling me?” It wasn’t very appealing. You were practically a slave here yourself. Having a choice was never an option. Your life was always planned since the day you were born.

“Better to be my slave than anyone else’s. I won’t treat you unfairly. Your title is less than ideal but you’ll be in better hands than in Harald’s. He wouldn’t even give you a choice he’ll use you and throw you out for others to use. I say that I’m being more than fair.”

Who’s to say he’ll tire of you himself and still do that? You shuddered thinking of those odds.

“I wish to be free.”

You looked into his eyes seeing him watching you intently. He most likely can see all the emotions as you sat there with him.

“As do I but if I were to let you go you’ll end up dead or with someone else far worse than me.”

He had a point. ‘Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.’ The saying had never rang more true than it did now. You had been lucky that Hvitserk wasn’t like the rest. You probably wouldn’t be alive if he was.

You didn’t know why he was doing you such a service by taking you in but you didn’t want to question it. For now, you’ll have to take his word for it, but that didn’t mean you trusted him. He was still a heathen at the end of the day.

[honestsycrets]

What She Really Wants

❛ pairing | Older!Hvitserk x Baby Mama!Reader, Long-Lost Son!Mads x Hvitserk (platonic)

❛ genre | multishot

❛ summary | After fifteen years, Hvitserk encounters his high school love. When he gets her to himself, however, he encounters her dirty little secret.

❛  warnings | deception, verbal arguments, language, Hvitserk abusing fuckers, anger, explosions.

❛  moodboard | belongs to @bonniebird (thank you!)

Chapters

Chapter I: Another Ring

Chapter II: Nothing Changed

Chapter III: Doppelganger

Chapter IV: Another Flame

Chapter V: No Strings Attached

Chapter VI: The Threat

Chapter VII: The Wolf

Chapter VIII: The Date

Chapter IX: The Game

[emotionlesshoe]

modern!hvitserk instagram aesthetic

[quantumlocked310]

Winter Wonderland

Moodboard requested by @flowers-in-your-hayr​ who asked for “winter vacation with Hvitty x plus size reader”

So this is Modern!Hvitserk taking you for a winter snugglefest 😉 at his family’s remote cabin in the woods! Hope you like it, Gabi!! Thank you thank you for the request. 💖

Don’t forget to tap the image to see it in the best quality!

++++++++++++

If you’d like to see/read more from me, here’s my masterlist.

Moodboard requests are currently open!

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @solinarimoon @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @southernbe​

​I do not own any of the photos they are from Pinterest.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Please could I request Hvitserk with -

"Your hair smells so good. I kinda want to eat it." 🥰

Drabble Masterlist

Flower Water

Contains:

235 words

Comment if you want tagged/removed

Hvitserk is very happy with the new rinse be brought you

When Hvitserk handed you the bottle, he couldn't have been more proud of himself. He had walked through the market stalls for hours trying to find the perfect gift from you, it wasn't for any reason, he just wanted to treat you. When he came by the seller in a far off corner, he couldn't be happier. The merchant smiled when Hvitserk told him what he wanted and handed him something in a large brown bottle. 

Hvitserk gave it a sniff and smiled, "it smells like berries?"

The merchant nodded, "it's made from a flower for a far off land. If she washes her hair with it the smell will fill your room." 

His smile and the way he stood there may it impossible to say no when he asked you to use it that second and now he was standing behind you with his nose in your hair, "your hair smells so good. I kinda want to eat it."

You shook your head, "that would be a bad idea by love."

Hvitserk smiled against your skin, "I wonder if you can put the same flower in your skin cream, I can eat that, can't I?" 

You huffed, "well, in theory, but you shouldn't. See the merchant and find out if you can mix it with cream, I'm sure it will make a lovely dessert."

Hvitserk smiled, "only if I can lick it off you." 

Fin

[lisinfleur]

In your arms

The request:

Author’s Notes | Fuck the whole universe. I can't see that shitty ending for our pup and not doing anything about this. So, here is the first of the many things I'll write to correct what made us bleed in this last season of our beloved show! Hope you guys like it! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Viking age AU, fixing plot AU, requested by anon. Words | 2941 ⁑ Warnings: Spoilers ahead. Mention to major character’s death, some angst.

"No brother! You've done your work! Do not interfere anymore. All my life has been a preparation for this moment. Stay back."

The sound of Ivar's voice and their last conversation for a long time populated his mind.

The many times they'd tried to reach for each other's ends and failed miserably made sense all at once in a single sentence.

"I could never kill you..."

What was left untold for their whole life, finally spoken.

"I love you. Now go. Go!"

Screams of strength and bravery overcame Ivar's final words of fear in Hvitserk's mind.

"Are we afraid of the death? No!"

For days he laid among the Christians after burying his brother like a true Viking lord, ensuring whoever was to find his grave would know what his brother wanted...

"Here is the grave of the most famous Viking that ever lived!"

The last promise he made before his little brother's eyes were lost from his to go into the golden doors he wasn't able to see, but was sure were open for Ivar to enter, engraved in his mind as if they were marked by fire.

"No one will ever forget Ivar, the Boneless."

He had to do it. He had to push forward his brother's legacy and what better way than doing what Ivar intended when they came back to stand on those cursed lands once again? Those poisonous lands that took his father, two of his little brothers, and the memory of the older one from who he separated in that place. That terrible place.

He would burn that place to ashes! And then he would spread those ashes over Ivar's grave like a gift to his brother's memory.

And so... He would come home. To fulfill one last promise also marked on fire in his mind and his heart.

"I'll come back, Y/N. I'll come back to you."

He had just found you after the many years of tragedy in his life. So, you became his secret in Kattegat. A secret he didn't tell not even to his beloved little brother, afraid somehow Ivar's hands could reach and rip his heart from his chest one more time.

You served his tables when he was younger and became a free woman since no one was caring about the fleeing slaves in the middle of that whole war he and his brothers fought with each other. But you'd never forgotten him and when he came back with his brother under the angry words of the town, you came after him, spoke of long-gone times and memories. And you offered your services for him who was once a good master in exchange for his mercy since now you were lost and helpless in the middle of the confusion Kattegat had become with so many rulers in so little time.

It didn't take too long for him to see you were a gift the gods had blessed him with. In a matter of days, his heart was bent.

To fall in love with you was easy. To leave you at the cabin when the time to leave had come was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

You cried in his chest and he could still remember how hard it was to hold your tears. He knew it could be his last battle... You knew he could never come back from that trip. But they had to do it.

You couldn't argue with his fate.

You couldn't beg him to stay.

So, you made him promise he would come back to you and swore you would wait for him. To warrant his promise was real, he left his recently recovered arm ring in your hands.

His fingers touched the pendant on his chest. Another hacksilver, placed alongside the one he had earned from his father on his necklace. You had given that pendant to him saying you wanted it back and so, he would have to come back to give it back to you.

Sometimes Hvitserk would wonder what was in your mind now. He knew the news of Ivar's defeat and Harald's death had reached Kattegat at that point. Would they say he was dead as well? Did they know he was a prisoner for so long?

Would you be there, waiting for him yet?

Promises were promises. Things were close to an end.

Hvitserk stopped a moment to admire his little brother's mind and toughness once again: it was hard as fuck to play games with the Christians and mislead them was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. Hvitserk was a berserker. The mindless battle was his favorite game and those mental games were Ivar's specialty.

Maybe it was why he decided to do it that way.

Ivar's way.

It was his brother's legacy after all.

For months he had played the Christian. He accepted that stupid baptism and walked with a cross around his neck. He spoke meekly and accepted that stupid name they gave him as if it could erase everything he was and would ever be.

From behind, his crows were cawing at the Dane kings' ears at the settlement beside Wessex, remembering them he himself was also a son of Ragnar, fated to Valhalla, who, unlike Ubbe, wanted those lands entirely to their people as a fair payment for the lives those Christians had stolen from them.

Ragnar Loðbrók.

Harald Finehair.

Ivar, the Boneless.

The whole unavenged settlement prince Aethelwulf had destroyed years ago in time...

Their blood was considered a fair price for his people to rise. The position of third Dane king, abandoned by his older brother, was a vacancy Hvitserk was considered fitting to occupy.

Under the mantle of lies and with the night by his side, Hvitserk dressed his armor once again and headed up to the doors of the Royal Villa to open them to his people like once his brother Ubbe had opened the gates of York for them to enter.

Standing in the middle of the gates as the army of Vikings invaded the town, Hvitserk could almost hear his brother's voice screaming and the sound of that unmistakable chariot filling the air as if Ivar was riding with them into the Royal Villa, conquering what he wasn't able to see falling in front of his eyes.

Alfred fled with Elsewith and their child. Hvitserk spared their lives as they had spared his own. What's fair is fair and Ivar would forgive him for denying the royal blood to his vengeance, but Alfred had respected his brother's death, his grave wasn't touched and his life was preserved.

But the town was on fire, invaded and taken as Ivar once planned.

With the dawn, Hvitserk received a mark on his face to resemble his crown as the third Dane King his brother didn't want to be. But he knew he wouldn't stay as much as Ubbe didn't stay.

He was wounded and tired, but Ivar was avenged and it was time to fulfill his next promise.

"I ordered them to build a shrine for you, brother. They must start soon and the Danes ensured me they'll use the stones from the royal castle to build it around your grave," Hvitserk said, touching the stones of the simple tomb he had rose with his own hands. "They'll paint runes and make sacrifices. And this place shall be marked with your story, my brother. No one will ever forget who you were and, in the future, when they find this place, everyone will know here is the grave of the great Ivar, the Boneless, son of Ragnar Loðbrók, feared by many around the world and for whom this land fell into our hands."

His fingers caressed the stone as if he could touch Ivar's face once again.

"But now I think you know I have to go... And leave you behind, brother. For you'll be always alive in my heart, but she's waiting for me. I know I never told you anything about her... I had my reasons, you know them very well," he sighed. "I did it all for you, Ivar. And if she ever gives me a son, I'll name him after you, so he can keep telling your story throughout the years. I'll never forget you, brother. Hail and farewell, Ivar. We'll see each other again when the time comes..."

Leaving behind the first hacksilver of his necklace as a gift to his brother, Hvitserk left, mounting his horse and riding towards the docks where a Dane boat was already waiting for him, ready to take him home.

For a moment, Hvitserk placed his eyes on that land once again. Maybe it was the last time he would ever see that cursed place. Maybe one day he would come back to see Sigurd and Ivar and his father as well. Or maybe, like Ivar, he would come and die there alongside the ones he loved. The time would say. Fate would say.

He was finally coming home.

The boat took ages to make a trip he didn't remember was that long. Ingrid was the new queen and he could see the awe in her eyes when he jumped out of that boat, holding himself whole in spite of his tiredness.

"We thought you were..."

"Dead, like my brother. And your husband, I suppose," Hvitserk didn't care about cutting the queen's sentence. "Release your breath, woman. I have my own crown and have no interest in the one on your head. You're Harald's wife and he was Norway's king. This is now your problem, but still, my homelands so get used to having me walking around from time to time," he said, carelessly pointing down to the ground. "Now you excuse me, your highness... I have more important matters to treat. Spare me from feasts in your hall: The son of Ragnar may be back home, but I'm tired, exhausted... All I want is to find my woman and rest in her arms."

"Your what?"

But he left Ingrid and her whole surprise behind, walking away from the boat as the Danes were preparing to move with their trip. They wouldn't stay. He wouldn't come back, at least, for now.

If he ever had to die in those cursed lands, he would do it like his father: before growing too old.

After living his whole life.

His steps were still limping and for a moment, he giggled, remembering how Ivar had limped that whole pier under horrible words where now there were smiles and grateful faces blessing his return. Would they bless if Ivar was back as well?

Oh, they would. But his brother wanted more than just their blessings.

And he wanted more than just their words.

Hvitserk straightened his cloak. His limping steps walking through the streets with many memories, sometimes sad memories, sometimes sweet ones. And as his steps shortened the distance towards his cabin, the sweetest memories came, remembering him of his sneaky movements through those streets to find you without his little brother's eyes over him. The kisses you'd exchanged. Your hands against his skin.

His heart pounded when his eyes finally reached that door. It was still the same... The cabin was still exactly as his memories could build it in his mind. But it was silent and it, for a moment, stopped everything into Hvitserk's heart.

Could it be that the news of his death had sent you away for good?

Did he take too long to come back? Did someone tell you he was turned into a Christian and you believed it was for real?

His fingers touched the door and he hesitated before knocking on it.

What if you weren't there to answer?

What if there was another with you in his place now?

It was easier to burn down the Christians' village than it was to knock on his own house's door, but the sound of footsteps inside approaching the door turned Hvitserk's mind completely blank for a second.

The lock was opened and his eyes watched as the light from outside invaded the darkened cabin, covering your figure and showing the pale tones of your apron dress.

"Now it's not a good time, I'm..."

Your voice died into your throat. And your eyes met his in a long moment of silence where the whole world seemed to be stopped along with time itself.

Hvitserk could watch as the line of your eyes filled slowly with tears. He observed as the tears became thicker and broke the line, rolling down your face. Your beautiful face... He thought so many times he would never see you again.

You sobbed, losing the strength of your legs. And Hvitserk held you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your body against his chest once again.

It wasn't one more of his dreams. You were there.

He was home.

His scent invaded your nose and your sobs engulfed you whole as you nestled into his arms, holding him so tight that your knuckles became white against his clothes.

"Shh... Hush, my sweet love. I'm here now. I'm here with you," he mumbled as your sobs became louder.

You thought he was dead.

They told you he was dead.

You cried your soul out on that pier, begging the gods to drag your body into the waters and allow you to swim towards him into Valhalla as queen Gunnhild had done after her beloved Björn.

But instead, they held you back.

And as Hvitserk's hands cupped your face before he could seal his lips against yours, tasting your flavors he missed so bad once again, you understood why the gods had given you a reason to keep yourself alive.

It was for him. You were his gift.

And the gods had decided to bless him once more.

"I brought it back to you, my love," he said, giving your pendant back with his necklace. "The other... I left with him," he mumbled.

Eyes full of sadness for his brother you knew wouldn't come back with him.

You gave back his arm ring, caressing his hand as he smiled.

"I thought I would never see you again," he mumbled.

His warm and big hand caressing your face, drying the tears from it before you could finally speak between the sobs.

"They told us you were dead, my sweet prince. I mourned alone and wanted to follow you into Valhalla to serve your feast. But the gods forbade me. They took my freedom for it wasn't my choice anymore."

Hvitserk looked at you curious, not understanding your words until you brought him into the cabin enough for his eyes to land on the basket over his bed.

"They filled me with life and entrusted me with your legacy. I couldn't go. They made me stay. And now I understand that's because you're here, my love. You're back to me."

There weren't words in his mouth anymore.

Hvitserk's steps limped towards the bed and he sat, looking at that basket with surprise and admiration. Inside, a pair of icy blues was facing him, remembering him of so much in his life inside those little eyes.

Ragnar's eyes.

Ubbe's eyes.

Ivar's eyes...

All looking at him into the little one's orbs as his son was trying to eat his own hand, hungry like himself.

"His name is Herleifr, son of Hvitserk. For he's indeed the son of a warrior and I wanted him to know where he came from..." you mumbled as Hvitserk gently lifted the little one from the basket, holding the baby against his chest.

This time it was his eye line unable to hold back his tears as his fingers gently touched the little one's hands and face.

He had seen so much death...

He had lost so much on that trip...

His hands had buried his own little brother and burned that town to the ground, but now, they were holding his future.

Hvitserk giggled.

"Herleifr... My brother shall forgive me once again. I must have to produce another so I can name it after him as I promised," he said, making you smile at his teary face.

You came closer, caressing his cheeks, drying his tears.

"We shall take care of you, my precious prince. And so, when you're healed, we shall produce as many heirs you think you want to honor all the ones you lost and more," you smiled, feeling his hand touching your face, pulling you closer so he could kiss you that way you loved so bad.

The baby cooed in his hand when your lips separated from each other and Hvitserk smiled.

"Now I'm home... Now... I'm back where I belong," he said, touching his forehead to yours, caressing your face with his thumb. "In your arms, my love. I belong in your arms and this is my place in this world."

For a second, Hvitserk could feel Ivar's eyes over him. And he smiled remembering he could be there to watch for him.

"Valhalla will wait," he said, almost being able to hear his little brother's giggle as he caressed your face, smiling at you. "I have a whole dynasty to produce with you first."

His time to find his beloved ones at Valhalla would come, he knew that. But until there, he would enjoy his place in Miðgarð and produce as many heirs as you were up to bear for him.

His time to fight was over for now and now it was time for him to be happy. And he would, by your side.

By your side, he would.

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[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Searching Home Pt. 2

Part 1 | Part 3 | Masterlist | My requests are OPEN! | If you want to be tagged, message me!

Notes: Part 2 is finally here! Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates!

I don’t think pre-Rus Ivar would be easy to be with at all, so I wanted to write this fic to be a little more realistic than the usual lovey-dovey stuff I sometimes write for Ivar… Yes, he was super sweet with Freydis, but when she started to get in disagreements with him, he literally killed her so...

Tagged: @errruvande​; @youbloodymadgenius​ ; @delightfullyzealosbasement​;  @alicedopey​

You were incredibly grateful that no storms interrupted your journey to England. Still, when the boats docked the first time in a week, you almost kissed the ground in front of you.

 Tanaruz immediately huddled closer, letting you wind a big shawl around the lower half of her face.

 Sitting down on a worn rock, you watched as Ivar’s chariot was unloaded and the camp set up. Tanaruz liked the quiet now, so you sat until everything was set up. When Vikings began drinking and laughing after a day of hard work, Tanaruz pulled you with her, giggling as she weaved through tents.

 A few familiar faces waved to you, but Tanaruz ignored them, making a beeline for a stream. There, she found Floki. Quickly, she began to talk to him, asking him for a block of wood. Knowing that she was going to be occupied for the rest of the night, you made out to find Ivar.

 It was fairly easy, his tent being one of the biggest and the chariot parked right outside. Carefully, you lifted the tent flap and walked inside.

 “Hey.” You said, sitting down next to him.

 “Hello Y/N.” Ivar replied, handing you a drink. You leaned onto his shoulder, taking a sip of ale.

 “We’re going to march for York tomorrow.” Ivar announced. “King Ecbert is there.”

 “Are you going to attack the royal villa?” you asked, and he nodded. “It’s the best course of action.”

 Then, Ivar began setting up his Hefnatafl board, ready to play another round. You prepared to loose miserably once again. Halfway through the game, Sigurd entered, and your heart sank. Ivar and Sigurd weren’t a good combination.

 “What do you want?” Ivar immediately snapped.

 “Playing at husband and wife, are we?” Sigurd sneered.

 “Sigurd, leave us alone please.” You said, knowing this wouldn’t end good. As you felt Ivar tense up next to you, you got up, to lead Sigurd out.

 “Be careful Lord Ivar, your wife is already smitten with me.” Sigurd continued relentlessly as he noticed the firm hand on his shoulder. Immediately, you dropped it.

 “Stop this shit, Sigurd.” You commanded. He imitated you, pitching his voice. You were tempted to throw a punch, but he was much stronger than you.

 “You know Ivar, it’ll only be a matter of time before you disappoint her. Margrethe told me you’re Boneless. Do you really want to waste such a pretty woman on your dysfunctional pr-“ Sigurd began, but Ivar picked up his knife and threw it at him.

 Sigurd ducked away, but you weren’t so lucky. The knife grazed your face, making a shallow cut on your check. Still, you reached up in shock.

 When Ivar snapped at you for touching Sigurd, you left the tent and ran, trying to find Tanaruz or Helga, maybe even Floki.

 In your panic, you got lost and ended up in a completely different part of the camp, King Harald’s shields littering the boggy paths. Terrified, you began running again but bumped into someone.

“I’m sorry.” You immediately apologized, pushing out of the way.

 “Don’t be, little cat.” Hvitserk said, catching you by the arm.

 “Are you alright?” he asked. Only then did you realize that you were crying. “Huh? Yeah of course.” You lied, wiping away your tears.

 “You’re bleeding.” He said, reaching up to wipe the blood away from your cut. You couldn’t help the little sob that escaped you.

 Immediately, Hvitserk put an arm around you. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He offered, leading you to his tent.

 Once you were inside, he began to clean your cheek, but you only began crying more. Softly, Hvitserk hugged you.

 “Hey, what happened to you?” he asked.

 “Ivar and Sigurd-“ you began, “He got really angry, and I didn’t know what to do.” Then, you hiccupped. Hvitserk held you close, stroking your hair. You almost didn’t notice the kiss he placed on your part.

“He gets like that sometimes. It isn’t your fault.” Hvitserk promised.

 You stayed like that for a while, Hvitserk stroking your hair while you cried. It wasn’t all Ivar, but also your homesickness and the constant change from place to place, language to language.

 Eventually, your eyes began to droop, and you fell asleep, listening to Hvitserk quietly hum a lullaby.

 ***

 The next morning, you woke up in your tent. Hazily, you recalled crying and falling asleep in Hvitserk’s arms. Immediately, you felt a little guilty for not handling Ivar better.

 When you stepped outside to wash your face, you found Ivar sitting right at the entrance of the tent.

 “Ivar?” you asked cautiously.

 “Are you coming?” he replied impatiently. Still feeling bad for going to Hvitserk, you nodded.

 Ivar lead you to the stream, no one else around.

 He watched as you washed your face and undid your braid, staying quiet. You knew apologies weren’t his fort, so you let him work up to it.

 “Is your cheek alright?” he finally asked.

 You couldn’t help yourself. “Could be better.”

 Ivar made a sound that was between a sigh and a scoff. “I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right.” He said quietly.

 “I know.” You replied. “But you haven’t killed me yet.”

 You placed a soft kiss on his lips, pulling away before he could get more. “Do better next time.” You demanded, and Ivar nodded.

 Together, you walked back to camp. Ivar had promised to let you ride in his chariot today, so you helped Floki get the stolen horse ready and crammed in beside him.

 Hvitserk wore an annoyed expression at the sight, but said nothing, turning to talk with Ubbe.

 He rode up beside you as you got comfortable in the chariot.

 “Hvitserk, can you teach me to fight?” you asked, “And Tanaruz too.” You added in an afterthought. You still weren’t comfortable with Harald and Halfdan around.

 “I’ll give you your first lesson when we make camp.” Hvitserk promised, the smirk reappearing on his face.

 “You could’ve asked me.” Ivar grumbled, insulted.

 “Tanaruz really likes Hvitserk.” You justified. It was true, ever since Tanaruz had opened up more, she’d talked to Hvitserk a lot, sometimes convincing him to give her a piggyback ride around the forest. Of course, you’d been sworn to secrecy when you found out.

 With Ivar pouting next to you, you decided to enjoy the rolling hills and grassy fields laid out before you. Never in your life had you seen that much untouched land. It was beautiful, verdant, and soft yellow swimming together as you continued on.

 Eventually, the open fields made way for lush forests brimming with animals that were soon scared away. Tanaruz, who had ridden up to the front of the caravan pointed out all the birds to you in amazement.

 That evening, after camp had been made, Hvitserk led you to the outskirts of the encampment. Tanaruz seemed unsure, but after you told her that this might be the right way to get back home, she agreed to come.

 Hvitserk handed you a shield, explaining the defense to you.

 “I mean, I already know you’re an expert at breaching defenses.” He teased. His breath tickled your neck, and you realized how close he was.

 “How about you go help Tanaruz.” You huffed.

 Your progress was slow, but definitely there. While Tanaruz proved to be ambidextrous, handling two axes with relative ease for a beginner, Hvitserk complimented your fighting with sword and shield.

 After a while, an amused Ubbe joined and let you try out his bow and a crossbow he’d found lying around. While you managed the bow, the crossbow had the most potential for you.

 You were coming to an end when Ivar joined at last, looking a little less sullen as he watched you and Tanaruz train.

 “Please remind me to never let Tanaruz be my enemy.” Hvitserk joked as the girl proudly threw her second axe into the target.

 “Scared Hvitty?” Tanaruz boldly teased, squealing when Hvitserk began to tickle her.

 ***

 Helga was sick. In the beginning, when the Great Heathen Army had taken the Royal Villa, you thought it was only a cold, something that would pass. By now, you were marching for York, and you were sure that something was very, very wrong with Helga.

The woman who had become a sort of mother to you and a caretaker to Tanaruz was constantly wheezing, trying to catch her breath, turning paler and paler. You were worried for her, and for Floki. He might care for you and Tanaruz, and even Ivar, but Helga was his everything.

 And Ivar was beginning to scare you too. The longer you knew him, the more you began to see the darker parts of him. Most of it, you could forgive or ignore, but the death of Sigurd unsettled you deeply. What if, one day, he turned on you or Tanaruz with an axe?

 Tanaruz was becoming an excellent warrior, and Ivar admired your sense for strategy, but that meant nothing against his rage. You loved him, yes, but he terrified you too.

 The night Sigurd died; you’d slipped off to find Hvitserk. He was becoming the source of comfort you wished Ivar could give, never judging, only taking care of you. And Tanaruz, who had practically become his best friend. Who you were to him, you still didn’t know.

 Tanaruz knew that she was sick too. You were sure of it, the glances she stole looking at Helga told you everything you needed to know. In your mind, you were going through a thousand possible options of what it could be, but you weren’t a medical professional, so you kept coming up empty.

 She collapsed when Floki was away, and it was only the three of you sitting in the tent. As Helga was lying on the ground, trying to catch her breath, Tanaruz froze.

 You on the other hand, dove towards Helga, trying to get her to move, or respond, but none of it was working.

“Get Floki!” you commanded in Tanaruz’ direction, and the girl took off, slipping out of the tent.

 With shaking hands, you checked for a pulse. It was there, but barely. When one of them grazed her forehead, you realized how feverish Helga had to be. Why hadn’t she said anything?

 You began to panic when she stopped breathing. You didn’t know how to do mouth-to-mouth! You tried, but as her pulse slowed and finally came to a halt, even you attempting to resuscitate her did absolutely nothing.

 Defeated, you sat back, tears beginning to burn in your eyes. The feeling of having no control scared you, and here, it just kept coming.

 When Floki barreled into the tent with a panicked expression, all you could do was leave out an ugly sob. He knew what that meant.

 You felt so horrible as he sank down next to Helga, sobs wracking his entire body. Tanaruz was right behind him.

 “We give space.” You whispered to her in what remained of your Arabic, and she nodded, padding outside. Sitting there, in the cold, waiting for Floki to emerge ground your nerves to dust, especially when the remaining Ragnarssons padded towards the tent.

 “Where’s Floki?” Ubbe asked, “He just left in the middle of the meeting.”

 Ivar made a move towards the tent, but Tanaruz stopped him, sitting down in front of the entrance with a sullen expression.

 “Helga’s dead.” You finally replied. There was no easier, nicer way of saying this. “We should let Floki grieve. You can still plan your attack tomorrow.”

 “You can sleep in my tent tonight.” Hvitserk offered, “I can stay with Ubbe.”

 “Thank you.” Tanaruz said, Ivar finally giving up and dragging himself away.

  ***

  Neither of you ended up sleeping. You watched as Tanaruz began carving amulets out of wood, unsure of what to do. You knew the gist of Viking burials and tried to find something to give Helga for the afterlife.

 Finally, you slipped out of the tent and made to find the infirmary, which was just a tent where all the injured Vikings without families or partners were getting taken care of. Helga was a healer, she needed her supplies, didn’t she?

 So, you packed all of the things together and put them in a bag, the darkness beginning to lighten as you and Tanaruz made for Floki’s tent.

 You waited in front of it, waiting until he emerged. Pale, downtrodden, defeated, those were the words to describe him as he walked out, facing you and Tanaruz. Somehow, a hint of his giggle left him as he saw the items in your hands.

 You followed him as he carried Helga to her final resting place, waiting until he was done. Adding your things wasn’t the hard part, it was the fact that this woman, who had been overbearing at times, but still saved you over and over was dead.

 “I-, I’ve never done anything like this before, so I don’t know what I should say.” You began, trying to keep it together. “I wanted to thank you for saving me and Tanaruz. I know you didn’t have to, but you did anyways. You shouldn’t have died so soon, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you. If we’re being honest, I think you knew that I wasn’t Angrboda. I hope you can see her again now, it’s the least you deserve.”

 When Tanaruz had added her amulets and said an Arabic prayer over Helga’s body, you stepped back and Floki began closing the grave. He left without another word afterwards, but you and Tanaruz stayed for a little while.

 “I wasn’t angry at her, in the end.” Tanaruz admitted, “I feel torn between hating her and grieving for her. She took my from my home, but I think I would have died if she hadn’t taken care of me.”

 “She did what she thought was right. Tanaruz, I don’t think Floki will last, and when it’s just the two of us, we might be able to go home.”

 “I’m not sure if I want to. Harald and Halfdan are still alive, but my parents aren’t. I like the Viking idea of exploring and adventure, but I can appreciate their sense for revenge.”

 Hearing those words from Tanaruz gave you a pause.

 “If you want to kill them, you have to train more. You know how powerful they are.”

 “We will find a way.” Tanaruz said. It sounded like a promise.