#halfdan the black x reader

[blakeswritingimagines]

Sitting Down on Their Lap

Ragnar: First he would be a bit cautious trying to work out why you chose that particular time to do that. He might get you to explain yourself and give you some playful jibes about it but would most likely play along and snuggle against you making sure to tickle you a few times, it's his duty after all.

Athelstan: His eyes widen in shock as you gracefully plop down onto his lap. He can feel his jaw drop at the unexpected weight and warmth, and his heart begins to skip beats. His whole body feels flushed and his palms begin to sweat. "Wh…what are you doing?" He'll question you but will let you stay.

Floki: He would be taken by surprise but ultimately amused by this unexpected development, as it is clear that you are just being playful. He responds by wrapping his arms around you, his fingers dancing up and down your sides as he pulls you tighter into his lap. He'll ask playfully, "Well, what have we here?"

Lagertha: She loves it when you randomly sit on her lap. It's unexpected and intimate and shows a level of comfort and trust between you both. It reminds her of how much you just want to be close to her, even if you have no idea how it affects her. It's a simple, but powerful gesture that shows your warmth, and your connection.

Aslaug: She'd be a bit surprised at first, but then she'd wrap her arms around you and give you a kiss, pulling you close to her so you're close as close could be.

Bjorn: Bjorn's heartbeat speeds up, and he glances down at you to see what you are doing. The sudden invasion of space is unexpected, but the contact sends a jolt through Bjorn as he feels your warmth. He puts his arms around you, pulling you closer, leaning his head down until his face is close to yours to kiss you.

Ubbe: He wraps his arms tight around you without a second thought, pressing you into the warmth of his chest. His hands find the curve of your hips as he pulls you even closer. Your weight is comforting and familiar like you belong there. He'll caress your soft hair, running his fingers up and down your neck.

Hvitserk: Well, he’d first laugh. Your sudden weight would catch him off guard, and the fact that you would be so silly as to plop down on his lap would be quite comical to him. He’d take that as a chance to squeeze you as tightly as he could, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you.

Sigurd: Initially surprised, but then immediately pleased. He would wrap his arms around your hips and pull you closer to him. After a moment he would gently push you to your feet and stand up, then gesture for you to sit on the couch next to him. Sitting closely together, he would wrap an arm around you and squeeze your body against his.

Ivar: A slight smirk crosses Ivar’s lips as you plop down in his lap. He wraps his right arm around you, pulling you in a bit closer, while his other hand moves down to caress you. He leans forward, his lips close to your ear, and he whispers, “I don’t mind one bit.”

Halfdan: He'd be startled and maybe a little bit annoyed at first, but he'd also find it endearing. You would likely be seeking out an affectionate reaction from him, so he'd give you what you were looking for. He'd wrap his arms around you and kiss your head.

Harald: He would wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head as you sit in his lap. He would smile down at you, amused by how unpredictable you can be sometimes. He would kiss your forehead and pull you closer to him, savoring the moment.

[axelsagewrites]

Hello. I was wondering if you can write something for Halfdan from the show Vikings? I’ll be happy with some fluff. I don’t have anything specific in mind but just a sweet Halfdan would be a nice read ♥️Thank you in advance ♥️

Halfdan*Favourite Days

Pairing: Halfdan x wife!reader

Word count: 610

Warnings: none

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Halfdan was a warrior, a Viking, someone who you should fear and run from when he approaches you. however, you just smile as the Viking saunters over to where you are sat against a great oak. “My love,” you great, offering your hand out to him, pulling him to sit next to you.

You placed the flower crown you had began to make down beside you. your hand moved to rest on his head while you placed a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you beautiful,” he murmured, moving his head to rest on top of yours.

Yes, the big, powerful, brutal Viking was merely just a puppy dog when it came to you. “How have you been?” you asked to which he just grunted making you laugh.

“I do not wish to ruin your good mood with idiotic men and their talks,”

“Okay sweetie,” you laughed, “Come here,” you instructed, moving him to lay with his head on your lap. He did not fight you, instead he allowed himself to relax into your soft thighs as your hand raked through his hair.

“What have you done today?” he asked.

“Well let’s see,” you said, leaning back against the tree as you absentmindedly scratched his scalp making him groan softly, “I helped my sister with her goats this morning and she gave me some Skyr for our supper which was nice. Then I went to the market. I got some better soaps to try wash the blood from your tunic,”

“I don’t know why you try. I always dirty them,”

“I don’t know why you try to tell me not to,” you countered, “I always get my way,”

“That you do my love,” he mumbled, half considering if he should just fall asleep right here, “What else?”

“I tended a few small errands, finished sewing part of my dress, and sharpened your axe,”

“You’re too good to me,”

“I know,” you said making him smile, “Then I came out here to relax and made this,” you said, picking up the flower crown.

He rolled onto his back, squinting at the sun as he took the flowers from your hand, “Its beautiful,” he smiled, resting it on his head making you laugh, “How do I look?”

“As pretty as a flower,” you grinned, leaning down to kiss him.

You enjoyed the moment, pulling back to looking into his eyes with a soft smile. It was perfect. That was till a loud wolf whistle rang out followed by Harald’s echoing laugh, “I’ll kill him,” Halfdan growled as he sat up, the flowers falling to the ground.

“I thought you were a man! Not a baby!” His brother called from several feet away.

You put your hand on his chest to stop him chasing his brother, “Bugger off Harald!” you shouted back, “At least he has a wife,” you teased, smirking when you saw the smile fall from his face, “Don’t be a baby Harald!” you called as he began to walk away.

“You’re lucky I like you sister!” he called back, turning away as he stalked off to presumably sulk.

You looked back to your husband with a grin, “Now where were we?”

He paused as he pretended to contemplate it, “Right,” he said, his hands grabbing your waist suddenly and flipping you onto your back making you laugh, “here,” he grinned as his lips went down to pepper your face in soft kisses.

“Stop!” you laughed as his hands moved to tickle your sides, “You’re killing me!”

“Don’t be a baby,” he teased, copying your earlier taunts as he leaned down to capture your lips again. Days like this were his favourite.

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[disasterofastory]

A new adventure (Halfdan x Reader)

A new adventure modern!Halfdan x Reader Warnings: none

Summary: You spend the nigth with your ex-husband.

The house is quiet and calm as you reach the bottom of the stairs. Your baby's screams still echo in your head. You are not even sure if he is crying again or if you just imagine things by now. Your head throbs with the pain you tried to keep at bay the whole night while you keep telling yourself that your son is alright and you don't have to go back to check on him.

He is asleep. He is fine.

One step creaks under your weight. It's loud and sharp. A heavy, tired sigh leaves your lips. Turning your head to the side, you listen.

It's okay, you think, relieved. Your baby boy is still asleep. It's fine.

"I will fix it tomorrow." Halfdan's smooth voice breaks the silence, drawing your attention to the couch where he sits, leaning on his knees with his elbows. The worried, stressful frown is still deep between his brows. "Thank you," you nod. "A drink?" "Do you have a beer?" "I have wine. Two bottles," you reply from the kitchen, holding the door of the fridge as your gaze falls on the bottles with the familiar logos. "I will take it," he sighs. "I thought so."

The lights coming from the kitchen cover the living room in a soft, orange hue. Your muscles melt against the couch as you sit down and hold up one of the bottles to the man next to you. "No glass?" He smirks, accepting your offer, though. "It's a glass-free household," you joke between two sips. The taste of the wine spreads over your tongue, and you have to close your eyes for long seconds to enjoy this momentary peace. "I'm sorry," Halfdan says after a while, making you jump when he grabs your legs to put them over his lap. His long fingers start to massage your sore muscles. His touch is warm and familiar. It's like a reflex that didn't die out of you even after one year. His every movement lights a fire in your lower belly. You almost laugh at it. "It's fine," you tell him. "Were you on a date?" He asks. "Yeah," you grunt. "To be honest, I should be grateful." "Why?" "It was horrible." He laughs. The man can't help but feel some satisfaction at your words. "Our baby knows when he has to get sick to save his mama." "He sure does," you hum, holding the bottle to your lips. "But I'm really sorry, you know? I should know what to do when my son is sick." Reaching out to squeeze his arm, you smile at your ex-husband comfortingly. You can see how devastated he is because of tonight, even though you know he did everything he could. "It's fine, Halfdan," you tell him. "Sometimes sick little boys need their mamas. You did everything well. Don't punish yourself because of nothing."

Not long after your boy's first birthday, you and Halfdan decided to end your marriages after months of struggling. It was quick and peaceful. Both of you wanted only the best for your child, and this kept your relationship away from useless battles and fights.

And here you are, after a year of your divorce, sitting with your ex-husband while your boy sleeps in his room. And you don't remember the last time you felt so content and calm, even though you are tired and still worried about your son's health.

"And what about your date?" He asks, turning his head to look at you. His fingers still work their magic on your muscles. "Do I know him?" "No," you reply. "I don't think so. I met him online." "First date?" "And the last." "So horrible?" You shrug. If you want to be fair, there was nothing wrong with the guy. He was nice, polite, and funny. "Boring." He hums. "Can I tell you something?" "I see the wine is starting to work," he smirks. He sees it in your eyes and the slight curve of your lips. You looked familiar when he first met you and asked you out on a date after two minutes of introducing himself. You giggled and said yes. "Everyone seems boring compared to you," you confess. "I have no idea how to enjoy a story if you are not the one who is telling it." Halfdan shooke up your whole world. He forced you to leave your comfort zone and live a little. He inspired you to start your own business, and even after all those years, he is still your biggest supporter.

Halfdan's chest stretches with a new wave of satisfaction when he hears your words. He remembers your first date. If he wants to be honest, he fucked it up. He talked and talked about his upcoming travel overseas. He was so excited. And you, instead of being annoyed with him or thinking him rude, listened and asked, and before he knew it, he was even more excited to come home to you. "We were good together, huh?" He asks but doesn't want your answer. He knows you were good together. Two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly... At least for a while. "Where did it go wrong?" "It was me," you reply immediately. Halfdan wants to argue, but you don't let him. "After our son was born I... I forgot how to be... me, you know? I became a mother and didn't know how to be anything else." You thought about it a lot, especially after your relationship got better and better after your breakup. He squeezes your leg and drinks from his bottle. "I should have reminded you." "Everybody should have reminded me," you grunt with the thorn still in you. Of course, you can't blame the others. Reminding you of yourself was not their job, but everyone made it so easy to forget that you are still Y/N, a woman, a wife, and not just a mother. "I'm sorry," he says anyway. "I didn't know it was so hard for you." "It wasn't," you reply. "I mean... I didn't notice until we broke up."

Halfdan opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. He can't do that, can he? Would it be too risky? Would he cross a line? Did those things ever stop him? "Let me take you out on a date." The wine burns your throat as you cough. A small drop of red liquid runs down your jaw until you soak it with the sleeve of your shirt. "What?" You croak out. "Do you love me?" He asks. Halfdan is not the type who beats around the bush. "I still do. I still love you, and you know our son is my whole world. You two are my whole world." "Why do you think it would work now?" You ask him uncertainly, even though you can't help but smile at his words. "Because we know what went wrong the first time," Halfdan replies. He is so sure of himself. "I wouldn't let you forget who you are besides being a mother, Y/N. What more? We could go and travel somewhere. Our son could stay with Harald, he is old enough, and Harald will spoil him. Maybe we could go somewhere new? Or I could book the place where we were on our honeymoon?" Your laugh shuts him up. Your eyes shine with tears. "And here you are, already planning for a new adventure." "Please tell me you will come with me."

He holds up his hand for you to take it, and when you do, he kisses the back of your hand.

[author-morgan]

Title: Riverside Rating: M Pairing: Harald Finehair x fem!Reader (and Halfdan the Black) Summary: Harald Finehair may be a fool, but at least he has his brother, and at least he has you. ❤️plot bunny that's been collecting dust for two years by @mrsragnarlodbrok ❤️

down by the river by the boats, where everybody goes to be alone

“YOUR BROTHER IS a fool,” you remark, watching Harald Finehair slip away with the princess who once promised to be his queen—the woman whose husband had only just been murdered in the early hours of the morn. Halfdan the Black watches his brother too, lips twitching as he lifts his cup of ale, taking a short quaff of the weak brew. He’ll be glad to leave England—an army of this size meant dwindling supplies, game, and ever-weakening ale and mead.

He picks off another hunk of meat from a roast pheasant. “Is that meant to be news?” Halfdan asks in turn, smiling as he flicks his stringy blond hair aside and out of his eyes—his dark gaze flitting back to you. Harald’s always been a fool when it comes to women and love, and Halfdan doubts time and age will ever change that.

“Halfdan,” you chide. Harald is a fool—a fool for thinking Ellisif would wait for him, a fool for killing Vik so crassly in the heart of the camp. You both know he is, but watching Princess Ellisif slip away with her husband’s killer makes you uneasy. Grief and the thought of vengeance would not have left her mind yet. And such things can drive people to act in unpredictable ways. “You don’t think it’s odd she wishes to seek a private audience with him only a few hours after he killed her husband?”

Halfdan raises his brow—the blue-black ink of the tattoo on his temple and forehead twitches and wrinkles. At the moment, he’s more content with filling his belly and entertaining your company than fretting over his brother, yet you won’t let the subject rest so easily, and deep down, Halfdan knows you are right, as is the feeling of dread in his liver. “Had it been me, the thought of retribution would not yet be gone, nor the fog of dolor.”

You make a convincing case, and with a sighing frown, Halfdan pushes away from the table and you, heading toward Harald’s tent—hand resting on the hilt of his sword, knowing already he will have to serve as his brother’s protector once more. A moment later, Halfdan emerges from his brother’s pavilion. The sword in his hand is coated with blood, bright and red. And it would seem, after all, he knew women far better than his brother—or at least how to listen to you. 

He frees a cloth from his belt and slides it down the blade, cleaning it with a single long swipe as he looks at you, watching and waiting. Halfdan doesn’t have to say anything as he approaches for you to know, but regardless, your lips quirk upward. “Told you,” you declare, and he makes a low sound of agreement from the back of his throat, taking the cup of ale you offer. You knew Ellisif would not have so easily nor quickly forgiven Harald for his transgression, especially after not upholding her promise to wait for marriage. 

Harald’s curses and fit of rage ring out in the brisk air. You know there’s little that can soothe his heart and pride, but if anyone in the Ragnarsson encampment can make an earnest attempt, it is you—Halfdan knows this too. “I’ll see to him,” you breathe, taking one last drink of ale. Halfdan grips your arm before you can go to his brother and leans close, offering a soft, quick kiss over too soon.

THE RIVER FLOWS slowly, given its breadth near the encampment of the Sons of Ragnar—a hundred longships are pushed up against the banks and moored in the water. Together, you and Harald walk along the water’s edge, heading north, where fewer ships and wandering eyes and ears are. The blood on his hands and chest is nigh dry, and it makes his red woolen tunic stick to him and stiffens his silver-tinged beard.

Harald Finehair looks at you but cannot dispel what you must think of him, of these circumstances—your expression is only a cool mix of solicitude and what he thinks is annoyance. Yet again, he finds himself failing to understand the mind and heart of a woman—one he has known since childhood, no less. “My brother is lucky,” Harald admits, feeling a spike of jealousy stab at him as he thinks about you and Halfdan, “to have only ever loved you.” But had he ever truly loved Ellisif beyond his desire for her beauty? Even he is not sure of the answer.

You stop near the prowl of one of Jarl Olavsson’s ships—his shields and sails marked by white and dark green—and stare at Harald, aghast and confused by his insinuation. “Do I no longer have your love?” You ask, reaching for him and the leather ties at the neck of his tunic.

“I had thought–” his voice trails off as he looks at the flock of blackbirds flying overhead, unsure if it is a sign from the gods or just an ill omen. He lets you draw him nearer, but it’s only when the flat of your hand connects with his bloody cheek that his gaze and attention return to you—his stormy blue eyes filled with bewilderment and indignation. He stares at you, nostrils flared. 

“No, Harald!” You’ve finally grown exasperated by his foolishness—you could tolerate his laments about love and marriage, but to nigh let himself be killed by a recreant woman under such circumstances? “You didn’t think!” You tell him, and Harald steps back, hands curling to fists at his sides. He needs to hear this, though, if not from his brother, then from you. “And if you did, it was with the wrong head.” The same head all men think with first when it comes to women.

“You speak to a king,” he reminds you, puffing out his chest—a weak reply, and you both know it.

You shake your head and reach for him, hands settling on either side of his blood-spattered face—thumbs following the blue-black scrollwork of the tattoos on his cheeks. “And I am also speaking to one of my oldest friends,” you remind him. King or no, Harald and his brother are among your oldest and dearest friends—they could be little more than farmers or simple whalers, and you would think no less of them nor love them less. There’s a shift in Harald’s expression then, as though he realizes the error of his ways in disregarding your and Halfdan’s counsel, and hubris fades to humility. “One whom I care for and love very much.” Love, the word catches him off-guard. Then an ephemeral smile returns to grace your lips. “Even if he is pigheaded at times.”

He forces down the growing knot in his throat. “My brother–” Harald starts, but you press your fingertips to his weathered lips, shushing him and chasing away any apprehension or fear of driving a rift between the three of you with what comes next. “Halfdan knows,” you tell Harald with airy unconcern—fingers slipping down to comb through his silver-tinged wiry beard. Your trysts had never been clandestine, even before whatever this unspoken thing with his brother began before the first raid on Paris. “He’s very astute,” you remark, the corner of your lips quirking upward again. “You could stand to learn a thing to two.”

He huffs, then goes to the river, shrugging off his tunic, and kneels at the water’s edge, splashing the cold water on his face and chest—scrubbing the drying blood of the woman he once intended to marry. He stares at his reflection, shoulders falling forward, accepting his ill-fated pursuit of marriage and defeat, alas. “I’ve been a fool,” he grumbles. You crouch next to him, dipping your hand in the river to help wash the blood from his shoulders and the back of his neck, humming your agreement—gladdened to know it is no longer a whispered secret between you and Halfdan. “You’re not supposed to agree with me,” he admonishes, mirth slipping back into his tone.

There’s a scar on his shoulder, and without thought, you lean toward him, placing the gentlest and quickest of kisses on the raised patch of silvery skin. You can recall how he and Halfdan have gotten most of their scars, but the history of this small mark evades you right now. When you meet his eyes, you see him staring at you with a look of raw hunger and desperation you’re entirely unprepared for, and it sends a wave of heat washing over you. But he’s so gentle when he handles you—even in all his lingering anger and hurt.

He holds your chin until his thumb swipes across your flushed cheek—always touching you like you’re some fragile, precious thing and not a shieldmaiden—and then his lips part, and he exhales a shaky breath, waiting for your permission, spoken or otherwise. You give it with a breathy sigh of his name. Harald. His warm breath hits your cheek, followed by the faint tickle of his scraggly beard at your jaw before his lips are fully on yours. “Let me have you.” His plea is soft against your mouth—and you cannot deny him.  

Skirts rucked up around your waist, Harald grips your hips, drawing you closer to him until his wool and linen-clad thigh presses between yours. His touch is fervent—hot palms, calloused from years of battle, scrape over the bare skin they touch. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before kissing you—languid and soft. Your hands grasp at his back to pull his chest to your own. And then he fumbles to loosen his belt, but you knock away his hands, and Harald curses and groans when your hand slides into his undone britches, fingers wrapping around his half-hard cock—stroking him.

Your stomach flutters as his fingers caress you briefly, fleetingly—but gone far too soon. Your hips move towards his touch, but now is not the time for drawn-out caresses and teasing. In truth, he's not focused on your pleasure but more on his desire.

Harald pushes forward, rocking his hips slowly until his cock is fully sheathed inside the warmth of your cunt, and his hips meet yours. You gasp, somewhere between a whine and moan, head tipping back, and Harald takes the chance to press his lips to the base of your neck. He’s gentle as he trails a hand down your side and holds your waist—he and Halfdan have always been two sides of the same coin as lovers.

You lay back—letting him do as he pleases. He needs this moment, this release, far more than you do. His thrusts start slow, lazy almost, as though you’ve all the time in the world—like you’re back in Tamdrup on a spring night in a patch of wildflowers or bale of loose straw in a stable, not lying on a muddy English riverbank on the verge of another battle—not knowing if tomorrow will be the day Valhalla beckons you home.

He looks down at you—splayed beneath him and his gut twists with a sickening realization. I’ve been a fool, Harald thinks again, cradling your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb pressed against your parted lips, chasing a woman who could never love me. But you. It did not matter what misfortunes or victories the gods bestowed upon him. You were always there—never faltering from your place at his and Halfdan’s side. He’s only ashamed not to have realized or acted sooner.

Your legs spread wider to welcome him, squeezing at his shoulders to urge him to move faster. Every push and pull of his hips brings him deeper inside you. Harald pants at your ear, his breathing ragged and strained as his pace falters—thrusts growing quicker and rougher as he seeks release. Beneath your palms, the muscles in his back ripple, contracting with each thrust. His lips find yours again, and you pull him down closer until his bare chest presses against the rumpled wool of your dress bodice—nails scraping across his shoulders and the patchwork of tattoos on his shoulder blades.

The look in Harald’s eyes is nigh unsettling—a mix of emotion you do not wish to think about in this moment of lust and carnality—and you squeeze at his biceps, urging him to move faster, and when his trance breaks, he obliges. He breathes hushed praises against your neck and strokes a thumb over the racing pulse in your neck as he rolls his hips up into yours—strokes long and deep. 

You whine and squirm for him, grinding your hips into his. The next time he moves, his cock strikes the place inside you that makes you cry out without thinking, and your toes start to curl—he does it again and again, thrice over. “Harald.” He works himself deeper still, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and he doesn’t miss the shiver that goes through you or the way your muscles tense—cunt squeezing his cock tighter. His breathy, open-mouth kisses grow sloven as you fumble to keep in rhythm, your movements slack—distracted by the fog of ecstasy in your head.

Breath hot against your lips, his eyes drift shut in unison with yours. Behind closed eyes, all that triumphs is the feel of your bodies sinking into each other. He will not last much longer. Harald barely manages a coherent rasp of your name, teeth gnashing, when his entire body shivers and he stills deep, deep inside, cock twitching. 

His livid eyes are dark, like a stormy sea when they open once more, and there��s a crease between his brows that you have a yearning impulse to kiss away—and so you do, and in the wake of your lips, you smooth your fingertips over his brow. “I do love you, Harald,” you tell him—a breathless whisper—and suddenly, the knot in his throat and the offbeat feeling in his heart is back. “Just as I love Halfdan.”

He says nothing, only rests his forehead against your shoulder and shivers when your hand runs along his back, finding his dark braid to run your fingers along. But there’s a new dampness on your flesh—tears for love lost and love found.

HIS TEMPER IS quelled upon returning to the encampment, even if his heart has yet to mend. Halfdan rises from his spot at one of the fires, leaving the waning conversation with Björn Ironside when he sees you and his brother approach. The whispers around the camp of what happened between Harald, Vik, and Ellisif have already faded with new discussions of the army’s next move in Mercia—steadily creeping closer to Wessex and retribution upon King Ecbert for his part in Ragnar’s death. Harald swallows his pride and glimpses you before turning his attention to Halfdan. “Thank you, brother,” he says. “Yet again, I owe you my life.”

“I’ll always watch your back,” Halfdan replies, pressing a cup of ale into Harald’s hand before clasping his shoulder—then his gaze flits to you, and he smiles, a glimmer shining in his dark eyes. “But next time we tell you to kill someone, you should listen, yeah?” Harald shakes his head, looking down into the cup of ale with a dry laugh. You both told him to rid himself of Ellisif before setting sail to England. He should have listened then—knows he was a fool not to have. But once more, it is the three of you, and maybe that is how the gods always intended it to be.

[Harald & Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @kaexiao / @midnightmuze / @moonlightsspirit / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenfinehair / @queenyalo / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Vikings taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[woahhhgwendolyn]

Being Halfdan's Woman Would Include...

-Being Halfdan's woman would be pretty easy overall because he would make sure to take care of you in any way that you need.

-He would also make sure that some of his brothers' men are watching over you when you are not with hum because he does not want anything to happen to you when he is away from you.

-He always makes sure that you are safe no matter the situation. He just loves you too much for you to be able to get hurt because he wasn't protecting.

-He is also making sure that you are healthy. He will often bring you an extra fur cape when it is cold just to make sure that you do not get sick.

-Him wanting to please you in every way he possibly can. No matter if it is sexual or not. He wants to make sure that you are happy with him.

-He can like never keep his eyes off of you. Like ever. He just finds you so irresistible.

-Him loving to spend time with you at any time of day and just talk to you and get to know you better.

-He will often tell his brother or the other men he is talking to about how beautiful you are.

-Him loving to fuck you however you want it. He also likes to surprise you a lot when it comes to fucking.

-He loves to cuddle you when you two are in bed. He can never get his hands off of you. He loves the feel of your skin on his hands and how you get shy when he touches you in certain areas.

[hc-geralt-23]

Hello. I saw your requests are one and was wondering if you can wire something for Halfdan the Black from Vikings? Thank you!

"A Prince's Sacrifice for His Princess"

Halfdan the Black, a brave and valiant prince from the North, had been travelling the world for many months on a quest for adventure. But, when he found himself in a far-off kingdom, he found something beyond the usual excitement. There, he met a princess--a beautiful and wise woman from a distant land.

Halfdan was immediately smitten, but he soon discovered that the princess was in grave danger and needed saving. Before Halfdan knew it, he had made a promise to himself to do whatever it took to save her, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

He gathered together an army of the bravest warriors from his home kingdom and set off to rescue the princess. After weeks of battle, Halfdan and his forces were successful in thwarting the princess's captors and freeing her from her captivity.

Once the princess was safe, Halfdan bowed before her, declaring his undying love and loyalty. Though the princess had never seen such courage and dedication before, she reciprocated Halfdan's affections, and the two were soon married.

Halfdan had sacrificed much for his princess, but beneath the armor and dust, his heart was filled with joy. He had saved his beloved, and in doing so, had found true love.

[queenfinehair]

The Bartender

(Pt. || Here)

Pairing: Modern!Halfdan x Fem!reader (No use of Y/N)

Warning: Minors DNI. Alcohol use. Mentions of abuse. Just, please, adults only.

Disclaimer: Moodboard is made by me from photos found on Pinterest. I do not claim ownership.

Plain and simple? It was sleazy. A dive bar to be crowned the best by those who frequented it and labeled trash by those who never set foot in. The drinks were watered down, cheap and bitter. So why were you there in this seedy joint?

Him. Again. Plain and simple, your boyfriend had finally done it this time. This time you meant it when you left with a swelling right eye. This bar just happened to be the darkest one you had come across and by God, you needed a drink and fast.

"What'll it be?" A napkin in place of a fancy coaster is slid in front of you and you look up. A deep pair of inquiring honey-brown eyes are searching your face, waiting for both an answer and explanation.

"Oh, uhm, strongest thing you have. Top shelf, please." You're already beginning to gather the money needed to pay for this liquid therapy. A snort of a laugh makes you look up suddenly though, frowning already at the attitude.

"Lady, top shelf here doesn't exist, but I know just what you need. Tequila, straight up with a splash of lime. Trust me."

He wasn't condescending in tone but in your fragile state it still made you both frustrated and teary eyed. You quickly wipe at your eyes and flinch at the contact. "And a raw steak as well..." you mutter under your breath and put a $50 on the bar counter.

"You wouldn't want that either. Again, trust me." He laughs from his belly this time and nods towards the lame kitchen doors. "Food here'll give you poisoning faster than the drinks."

This gets you to smile small and thank him for the drink, "keep 'em coming. I'd rather not feel this tonight."

Taking the money from you, the man pauses for a better glimpse under the dim lights. They're enough to hide from but he knew better. "You runnin' from this guy?"

Shaking your head you take a gulp of the harsh liquor and hiss, "I wouldn't say running, exactly..."

"But?" He holds up a finger to an already drunk man down the way, signaling that he'd have to wait just a minute longer.

Another gulp, another hiss and you look into his eyes, "I need to get away. I need to hide and this place seemed the perfect fit for that. No offense meant, by the way."

He shakes his head with a large grin forming on his lips. "None taken. I'm Halfdan, by the way."

"Interesting name." you begin with your own introduction to the strange man behind the bar. You take another gander and only then do you see that his face is covered in an intricate and intriguing tattoo. The ink was slightly faded and looked to be a shade of blue... or was it black? In these lights the details were easily blurred into obscurity so you just shrug off the color and continue with your drink, noting that Halfdan had left the bottle on the bar. He'd left to help another patron with his needs.

With him helping the drunk male you take it upon yourself to grab the bottle and fill your glass up, smiling to yourself as the liquid courses through your system. Your eye would hurt like hell in the morning, but for now you were content.

"Mark, I told you, you're at your limit." Halfdan swears under his breath as he walks back to where you're sitting and raises an eyebrow at the bottle plopped in front of you. "And you..." He begins slyly, playfully taking it back and grabbing another, stronger tequila. "This is what you'd rather have, I'm guessing."

You finally omit a laugh and nod with enthusiasm, "what happened to no top shelf?"

"That's mostly for people like him," he points with his head, the hair that sits to only one side oglf his head swaying with the movement. "Mark! Go on, get!"

The two men have words and as Halfdan jumps the bar to escort drunk Mark out you watch his build. Slim was the first thing you notice, his tight black t-shirt clinging to his sweating body. Dark blue jeans cling to his hips legs. You stare a moment longer at his ass before raising your brows in appreciation, turning back to the alcohol in front of you.

-------‐---------

"So you've been with this guy 6 months, think it's true love, he's jealous and finally he beats you?" Plopping a peanut into his mouth, Halfdan blows out a breath and shakes the hair from his eyes. "Shit."

The bar is empty now and the time is late. You both have been sharing the bottle of tequila and have moved to a booth. It's shabby, torn and red in color but it's much more comfortable than the stool you'd been sitting on before. A small bowl of peanuts sits in front of you that's being shared and you snort out a laugh now.

"In a nutshell," a peanut is held up with a smile, "that's what happened." And into your mouth it goes. Halfdan watches the movement with wry fascination before he talks again.

"You deserve better than a raw steak on your eye, ya know." He motions with a finger the the very piece of raw meat that he'd gotten out for you. Noting how brown and out of date the steak had been though, you politely had rejected.

You both take a shot and wash it down with the juice of half a lime, licking salt off of the opposite hand and laugh together at the synchronization of your actions.

The old jukebox plays a slower song and you sigh, closing your eyes and letting your head fall down and you groan.

"Ahh, nope. I don't think so, not on my watch." Halfdan slams his hands on the booth table and stands up, swaying slightly. "C'mon then, darling, let's dance the pain away. I'm not good at it but I'll try."

You take his outstretched hand and stand as well, walking with the taller man to the so-called dance floor, laughing at the scuffed linoleum. "I'm sure you dance fine." Your words slur and he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you close.

Your own arms wrap around Halfdan and his chin comes to rest on your head. The room sways with both your movements and the alcohol. A tear or two slides down your cheeks as you think of how nice this strange man is, far more kind than your ex-boyfriend.

"Halfdan..." you begin and as you move to look up, his glossy eyes catch your own. He looks from your eyes to your mouth and back again. The though crosses your mind as well and with so much of the liquid courage flowing through you both, you take the first move and kiss him.

He breaks away first, standing away from you now with both hands up in surrender, "I don't know..." He mutters your name and shakes his head before you take full control. Lightning courage has you in its hold as you close the distance.

"For some strange reason, Halfdan the Bartender... I trust you. Make me feel good. Better than I already do. Please."

He heaves a sigh and takes your hands in his, leading you to the door at the front, where he locks up, turns back and motions to you to follow him now, dropping your hands.

There's an upstairs to the bar hidden in the kitchen with slim, creaking stairs. A door stands in front of you as Halfdan works the locks, opening the stained door to a rather lovely living room.

"So," Halfdan admits sheepishly as he scratches the shaved side of his head, "Welcome to my place. Let's get comfortable."

-----------

Tags; @naaladareia

[ryuzakemo128]

Food for the heart and soul - Vikings Drabble

Genre: Fluff/ Angst

Pairing: Halfdan the Black x Freyja Raengyreon [Female Reader]

Content Warning: Possible themes of angst, heart melting fluff and mention of death.

Freyja's cooking was as chaotic as it was beautiful to watch. She insisted that she did it because it was a way of expressing her creativity and individuality. She also said that her father had taught her the importance of knowing what you put into your body, and that cooking was a way of ensuring that she took care of herself and her loved ones. And to make treats that tasted like home.

Halfdan watched her as she moved around the kitchen, humming to herself as she cooked and the reason she had him get the brie cheese became rather clear to him. Although at the time it was rather amusing, now he was quite curious as to why she was so interested in it. He'd never been one to really think much of food beyond the fact that it filled him up and gave him the energy to keep moving. But then again, he'd never been around anyone like Freyja before.

"Food is meant to taste good, give you more than just energy and enough to keep you alive," Freyja said, "I have a contact that gives me a small wheel every week, along with two other types of cheese along with it, just to try. He's a very loyal friend." She paused, giving Halfdan a sidelong glance before she added, "You should try it sometime. It's not just about the taste, but about the experience of enjoying it. You can really appreciate the difference."

He replied, "I'm not sure if I understand. You're saying that food can be more than just something we eat to survive?" She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "But why?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's not like it's going to change anything about who we are or what we do."

"It will make it far more worthwhile, enjoyable and at the very least pleasant." Freyja answered with a small smile. "I went to Frankia, I had all sorts of things there, but Brie cheese stood out to me the most during my time there, my father also taught me it was important to know how to stay healthy and still eat well, just because we're Vikings, doesn't mean we can't enjoy what we eat."

From that day forward, she wanted to cook for him more often. He was never one to turn down her food, and after tasting the Brie cheese, he found himself enjoying it more than he thought he would. He began to see the world through her eyes, appreciating the little things in life that made it worth living.

At the end of each night, she would say, 'I love you and get back safely,' Despite never living together as a normal couple, they had become quite close. Halfdan found himself looking forward to the times he spent with her, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have a real home with her, filled with her cooking and the warmth of her presence.

Perhaps one they would or at least they would have in another life, had he not died that day. Had he not died on that battlefield. He would be with her one way or another. Even if it wasn't going to be then. It most certainly would in another lifetime.

[ealdormanink]

Can you write one with Ivar? ❤️

Reader is daughter of King Harald and shes friends and in love with Ivar and she has to marry one of the Ragnarssons and they all want her and she ofc chooses Ivar and he cant believe it.

Written in the Stars

Ivar the boneless x female reader!

A/N: thank you for this request! I hope you like it!!

King Harald's fleet's sails cast long shadows over Kattegat's iron-grey waters. Y/N's fingers traced the wooden railing of her father's ship, her eyes fixed on the approaching shoreline. The familiar silhouettes of the great hall and the busy docks stirred memories that made her heart flutter against her ribs.

The salty breeze carried whispers of past winters spent poring over maps by candlelight, of shared laughter echoing through empty halls when everyone else had retired, of piercing blue eyes that saw her - truly saw her - for who she was.

"The winds have favored us." Harald's voice broke through the symphony of creaking wood and splashing waves. Y/N's fingers stilled on the railing, though she couldn't quite suppress the way her lips curved upward.

Through the morning mist, familiar figures emerged on the docks. There, among his brothers, sat Ivar in his chariot. Even from this distance, the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. Their eyes met across the narrowing stretch of water, and five years of friendship hung in the space between them.

The ship's bow cut through the last few meters of fjord. As they docked, Ubbe's voice carried across the harbor, "Welcome to Kattegat, King Harald." His eyes lingered on Y/N, calculating and considering in a way that made her spine stiffen.

Hvitserk stepped forward, extending his hand to help her onto the dock. "Princess Y/N." His smile was warm, practiced. "The gods have blessed us with your return."

The wooden planks creaked under her boots as she accepted his assistance, but her attention was drawn to the subtle shift in Ivar's posture, the way his knuckles whitened around the edge of his chariot.

"The journey must have been tiring." Ivar's voice cut through the pleasantries like a blade through silk. His eyes hadn't left her face since she'd first appeared on deck. "Perhaps the princess would prefer to rest before tonight's festivities."

"Always so concerned, brother." Sigurd's words dripped with mockery. "Or perhaps you're simply eager to monopolize her time, as usual?"

Y/N's fingers unconsciously found the silver pendant at her throat - a gift from Ivar, carved with runes they'd deciphered together during one of their many late-night conversations. Those nights when they'd abandon the noise of the great hall, finding solace in ancient sagas and battle strategies that only they seemed to understand.

The great hall buzzed with activity as servants prepared for the evening's feast. Y/N's chambers overlooked the main square, where memories lingered in every corner. Her fingers traced the windowsill where, years ago, she'd first found Ivar alone, poring over his father's old maps.

"Your form is wrong." The echo of her younger self's voice played in her mind. She'd corrected his interpretation of the English coastline that day, earning not his usual sharp retort, but a look of genuine surprise. That was the first time he'd smiled at her - really smiled.

A knock at the door pulled her from the memory. Astrid, one of the servants, entered with fresh water.

"The sons of Ragnar are asking after you, Princess." Astrid's eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. "All of them."

The weight of unspoken words hung in the air. Everyone knew why Harald had brought his daughter to Kattegat this time. Alliances needed to be strengthened, and marriage was the surest way.

Y/N's feet carried her to the courtyard, where she found Ubbe first. He stood tall, every inch the eldest brother, watching the training grounds with calculated interest.

"You've grown more beautiful since we last met." His voice was diplomatic, measured. He stepped closer, close enough for her to see the political ambition in his eyes. "A union between us would bring great strength to both our people."

Before she could respond, Hvitserk appeared, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Brother, you sound like you're negotiating a trade deal." His easy smile didn't quite mask the hunger in his gaze. "Our princess deserves poetry, not politics."

Y/N's eyes drifted past them both, landing on the familiar figure by the weapons rack. Ivar sat cleaning his axe - the same one she'd helped him choose three winters ago. His movements were precise, following the pattern she'd shown him: three strokes down, one across, just as her mother had taught her.

"Still pining after the cripple?" Sigurd's voice slithered from behind her. "You could have any of us, yet you waste your time with him."

The familiar surge of protective anger rose in her chest, but before she could speak, Ivar's axe embedded itself in the post beside Sigurd's head.

"Your aim is improving," Y/N said, the words falling naturally from her lips, an old joke between them. "Though you're still pulling slightly to the left."

"Perhaps I need another lesson." Ivar's eyes met hers, and for a moment, they were back in that first winter, when she'd spent hours helping him adjust his throwing technique, never once mentioning his legs, focusing only on his strength.

The feast hall glowed with firelight, casting dancing shadows across faces both familiar and strange. Y/N sat at the high table, her father's words still ringing in her ears: "You must choose one of Ragnar's sons before the next full moon."

Her eyes drifted across the hall, watching the brothers in turn. Ubbe stood among the warriors, every gesture calculated to display his leadership. Hvitserk charmed a group of shield-maidens, though his gaze kept finding its way back to her. Sigurd strummed his oud, his song carrying notes of barely concealed mockery.

And Ivar... Ivar sat in his usual corner, away from the crowds, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. The same spot where they'd spent countless evenings discussing everything from battle tactics to the gods themselves.

"Do you remember," his voice caught her off guard as she approached his table, drawn to him as always, "the night you taught me about the stars?"

How could she forget? They'd stayed up until dawn, her finger pointing out constellations while he told her the stories behind each one. She'd never told him that she'd already known them all - she'd just wanted to hear his voice, to see the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of the gods.

"You were a terrible student," she teased, sliding onto the bench beside him. The familiar scent of leather and metal wrapped around her like an old blanket. "You kept making up new constellations."

"And you kept believing them." His smile, rare and genuine, made her heart stutter. "Until you realized I was describing shapes that looked like Sigurd falling off a horse."

A comfortable silence fell between them, filled with years of shared moments and unspoken words. Around them, the feast continued, but they existed in their own world, just as they always had.

"They're all watching you," Ivar said finally, his voice tight. "My brothers. They all want you."

"Let them watch." Her fingers found the edge of the table, inches from his. "They don't see me the way you do."

"And how do I see you?" His question came out barely above a whisper, vulnerable in a way only she was allowed to witness.

"Like I'm more than just Harald's daughter. Like I'm..." She paused, remembering all the times he'd challenged her mind, valued her opinions, trusted her judgment. "Like I'm me."

The firelight caught the silver of his arm ring - the one she'd helped him forge two summers ago, their fingers working the metal together as she'd steadied his hand.

The moment of choice arrived with the rising moon. The great hall fell silent as Y/N stood before the assembled crowd, her father's expectant gaze heavy upon her shoulders. Four brothers stood before her, four possible futures stretched out like paths in the darkness.

Ubbe stepped forward first, ever the diplomat. "Choose wisely, Princess. The future of our peoples rests upon this decision." His words echoed against the wooden walls, practiced and perfect.

Hvitserk offered her a playful wink. "Choose with your heart, not your head." His charm sparkled like sunlight on water, beautiful but fleeting.

Sigurd simply smirked, his fingers still wrapped around his oud. "Though some choices," his eyes flickered to Ivar, "might be less... conventional than others."

And Ivar... Ivar remained still, his eyes fixed on the ground. She could read the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped his crutch - a gesture she'd learned meant he was preparing himself for disappointment.

Y/N's feet carried her forward, past Ubbe's calculated smile, past Hvitserk's outstretched hand, past Sigurd's mocking gaze. She stopped before Ivar, close enough to see the subtle tremor in his hands.

"I choose Ivar Ragnarsson," her voice rang clear through the hall. "I choose the man who saw me as an equal before he saw me as a princess."

Ivar's head snapped up, disbelief warring with hope in his ice-blue eyes. "You can't," he whispered, for her ears alone. "You deserve someone who can-"

"I deserve someone who challenges my mind," she cut him off, her hand finding his cheek. "Someone who values my thoughts as much as my title. Someone who taught me to read the stars, even while making up constellations to make me laugh."

The hall erupted in murmurs, but Y/N heard only the sharp intake of Ivar's breath. His free hand found hers, trembling slightly.

"You've always been my choice," she continued, soft enough that only he could hear. "Since that first day when you argued with me about the English coastline. Since every night we spent planning battles and reading sagas. Since every moment you saw me for who I am, not who I was born to be."

"But I'm-" he started.

"You're Ivar," she said simply. "My Ivar. The only one who's ever matched me, challenged me, understood me. The only one I could ever choose."

Slowly, like dawn breaking over the horizon, a smile spread across Ivar's face - not his usual smirk, but the real smile she'd come to treasure. His fingers tightened around hers, and in that moment, they were back in every shared laugh, every quiet conversation, every silent understanding that had led them here.

"The gods themselves couldn't have given me a greater gift," he whispered, and Y/N saw in his eyes the same truth she'd known all along - that some choices are made long before they're spoken aloud, written in the stars they'd watched together all those nights ago.

[gulnarsultan]

Can I request something for Halfdan the Black from Vikings 🥰🥰🥰Anything that represents him in a jealous possessive light towards reader( but maybe ends with a bit of fluff explaining why he is so obsessed with her). Thank you in advance if you decide to read about him ❤️❤️❤️Sending hugs 🥰

Hello darling. I hope you like it.

"Scenario"

Halfdan was not a very talkative and good at talking man. Halfdan did not dare to speak, especially when it came to the reader. But he was better at doing things rather than talking. Halfdan was truly a man of action. He was always following the reader like a guard dog. He did not allow other men to approach the reader. He carried out actions such as carrying the reader's belongings and other things, giving the reader a place and paying for his needs without any interruption. Halfdan's protective behavior always infuriated his readers. One day the reader couldn't take it anymore.

"Half is enough. Why are you scaring my friends away?"

"They want to be with you. They want to steal you from me."

"You talk like I'm your girlfriend."

"I love you so much. And I want you to be my wife."

The reader is surprised by what he hears.

"That's why you were treating me like this?"

"Yes."

The reader chuckles as Halfdan approaches. She pats you on the shoulder.

"Be more direct next time. Let's go drink."

As the reader walks ahead, Halfdan happily follows.

[gummifrogs]

I NEED Viking content. Pretty sure I’ve read every fic on Tumblr and the ones on Wattpad that I’ve read (I am so sorry) suck ass. AO3 only has so much content as well. Where’s the girly pop fans that know what I want? I am getting desperately feral.

[blakeswritingimagines]

How They View You

Ragnar: He views you as his equal, someone with whom he can find solace and comfort in. Someone who stands by his side in difficult times, he values loyalty and honesty above all in a partner, and he cherishes the moments you spend together. He needs someone who understands his duties and responsibilities and is willing to support him through every step of the way. But most importantly, he wants someone who he can love wholeheartedly.

Athelstan: He views you as an equal and a companion, someone he can trust and rely on in all things. You are his confidant, his support, and his source of comfort and strength. Together, you are an unstoppable team, capable of achieving anything you set your mind to. Your bond is strong and unbreakable, built on mutual respect and understanding. He knows he can always count on you to be by his side, and he will always strive to be the best partner he can possibly be for you.

Floki: He views you as very bold, and kind but stubborn and loyal to an admirable degree as well. You challenge him, of course, but in a way he finds endearing. A fierce and quick-witted tongue that gets you into many a predicament. A person of contradictions but one worthy of his love.

Lagertha: She views you as an equal, someone who understands and complements her strengths and weaknesses. You are an intellectual match for her and someone she can deeply trust and confide in. But above all, you are her loyal and dedicated partner who loves her for who she is, and she returns that love tenfold.

Aslaug: She sees you as a treasured companion, whose company she finds both exhilarating and comforting, a constant source of fascination and surprise. Your intelligence, wit, and grace are constantly on display but you also have the uncanny ability to see through any facade. When she's with you, she feels like she can be completely herself. You are the person she knows she can count on to always tell her the truth, no matter how hard it is to hear.

Bjorn: He sees you as... difficult. Headstrong, unyielding, and always questioning his intentions. You challenge him in ways he has never been challenged before. But there is a fire in you that he cannot ignore. Despite your differences, he is inexplicably drawn to you. You are unlike anyone he has ever met, and he can feel your presence whenever you are near. You have a strength and courage that he admires, even when it leads to your conflicts.

Ubbe: He views you as an equal, a companion. With admiration and respect, he cannot deny the natural power dynamic at play. He is a prince, after all, and it is expected that he leads. But you have a mind of your own, a fire in your eyes, and a strength that both surprises and captivates him.

Hvitserk: He sees you as brave, independent, and a bit reckless. You have a connection beyond words, you know exactly what he's thinking before he even has to speak. You are feisty with a sharp tongue but kind and compassionate at heart. He views you as a strong and beautiful individual, a true warrior in your own right.

Sigurd: He sees you as a true friend and trusted advisor, someone who is always there for him, no matter what. He trusts you completely and values your opinions and advice. You are someone he can rely on and confide in, and someone who always has his best interests at heart.

Ivar: He views you as a fierce supporter who stands beside him and brings balance to his life. That you are witty and intelligent. Someone who brings a sense of grounding and understanding, but also someone who knows how to have a playful side. A true God/Goddess from head to toe and someone who he knows he can trust with his life.

Halfdan: He sees you as his rock, his equal, and his best friend. He can trust you implicitly and he would do anything for you. Your dynamic is built on mutual respect and admiration, you uplift each other and are always there for one another in good times and bad. You are each other's biggest supporter and cheerleader. He views his partner as someone who brings out the best in himand makes him strive to be a better person.

Harald: He views you as an equal, a trusted confidant and ally. He values your opinion and takes your advice seriously. He enjoys your company, whether it be quiet moments together or thrilling adventures. He sees you not just as a romantic interest, but as a partner in life, someone who he can envision a future of ruling, fighting, and living life with. He is fiercely loyal to you, protecting you at all costs and making sure you always feel loved.

[axelsagewrites]

Could I ask about something fluffy for Halfdan the black from Vikings please for the V day creations 😁🥰🥰🥰🥰Thank you 🥰🥰🥰

Halfdan*Lofn

Pairing: halfdan x goddess!reader

Word count: 1352

Warnings: forbidden love, made up norse festival bc they didnt have valentines (or anything similar i could find)

Masterlist Here

Halfdan never felt the need to make friends. Not in the way his brother Harald did at least. Halfdan had drinking buddies, war buddies, hell even fuck buddies, but he did not see the point of befriending another lord just for his company. Though Halfdan was not the brother destined to be king.

Halfdan quite frankly didn’t understand why they even had to stop in this godforsaken village. So, when his brother told him they had to stay another five days to take part in their festival he found himself groaning and whining like a toddler.

The only reason he hadn’t abandoned his brother and went elsewhere was because of you. well, he didn’t know your name only your face. But the gods had made it the most beautiful face he’d ever seen.

When he asked his brother about the festival even Harald seemed to know nothing. your village had been named after Freyja so every year you would honour her but neither knew what to expect.

-

The bonfire was higher than any house with children dancing around the flames and drinks flowing freely with the adults. As Harald nursed his third cup his eyes fell upon you and finally, he felt like this may have been worth him staying.

You were sat alone, a few feet away from most on a fallen tree staring into the flames. Before he could think the alcohol had decided for him and he was crossing the grass towards you. “May I sit?” he asked, trying to act nonchalant but he felt an odd blush raise in his cheeks as you lifted your gaze.

Your eyes scanned over him for a moment in silence, from his tip toes to his hair, before finally you gave a small nod. “I’m Halfdan,” he said, breaking the silence once more as he sat down, and he felt relived you gave your name back. “Why are you sitting all alone?” he asked making you laugh a little, “What?”

“Nothing. I like someone who does not beat around the bush,” you said, a twinkle in your eye that made him blush again before your eyes returned to the fire, “I like to sit with my thoughts especially on days like this. Everyone seems so happy,”

“And you, are you happy?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you even if you do not return it.

However, he did notice the smile that tugged on your lips, “I can be at times,” usually he’d roll his eyes at an answer like yours, but this felt different.

“You never answered my question,” he said, and you hummed in response, “Why are you alone?”

“You were the first person to ask to sit,” you replied, finally turning to face him, “I think the better question is why did you?”

Up this close Halfdan could see the flames reflected in your eyes despite the fire being so far away. he could feel its warmth as if it was sat next to him, “I suppose I just wanted to meet you,” he said, his head becoming hazy.

“Are you well? you look like you may faint,” you said, brow knotting in concern.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, “It is very warm is it not?” he said, pulling at his shirt to fan himself.

He only stopped when you stood up, “Come with me. I know where you can cool down,” you said, and he did not need to be told twice.

He followed you down the hill the bonfire was on down to the edge of the shore where you slowly walked along as the breeze from the water finally cooled him down, “I’m not sure what happened,” Halfdan said when he finally felt he could breathe again.

Your smile almost took it away though, “It’s alright. Many become overwhelmed by the end of the night. The fire can burn awfully hot,”

“What is the fire for? I know your celebrating Freyja but why?” he asked, pausing in his tracks when you laughed softly.

You stopped as well and turned to face him, “We do not only celebrate her. well, I do not at least,” you said, turning your gaze to the sea, “We celebrate love. Freyja is of course only one of the three we celebrate,”

“And the other two?”

“Well one is Sjöfn though some rumour she is just Frigg in disguise,”

“Why would a goddess need to disguise herself?” Halfdan asked, suddenly very interested in every word you had to say. “Is she not the goddess of marriage?”

“She is. as well as prophecy and motherhood however sadly, love does not always lie in the marriage. That’s where the third comes in. Lofn,”

“I recognise the name,” he said though he could not place from when.

You chuckled however, “Many do. Few know why. She is protecting the forbidden love. The true love. The love that cannot always be, but you will never lose. She is who I celebrate on nights like these,” you said as your eyes turned to gaze back at the fire.

Halfdan felt a flare grow in his chest, “Why is that? I cannot imagine a man loving you and letting you go no matter the reason,”

Your lips quirked into a smile as your eyes turned to him, “I am not in a forbidden love. Not yet at least. Though I do find the notion romantical,”

“Romantical?”

“Romantical. Mesmerizing. Enthralling. Whatever word you choose. The notion of a love so strong it breaks the rules,”

“You do not like to follow the rules?”

“I do not see why I would,” you said.

Halfdan found himself cracking a slight smirk, “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he said before you decided it was finally time to head back to the fire. As you began to walk up the hill, he decided to ask another question, “Why the bonfire?”

“They say no matter how far you are from the flames you will feel them on your skin if you’re sat with your one love and if you feel a chill stood beside it then it is not meant to be,”

“Is that why there are so many girls sat around it?” he snorted when he noticed just how close to the flames some of them sat. you however chose not to respond to that, and it was enough to make him swallow hard. “Do you believe in it?”

“I do,”

“Why?”

“Because I know it’s true,”

“How?”

“I just do,” you said with a small smile as you arrived back to your original seat, “Your brother is looking for you,” you said, nodding over at the dark-haired man motioning to Halfdan to come over. “I’ll wait here,”

Halfdan sighed, “I’ll only be a moment,” he said as he stalked over to his brother.

“I was wondering where you went,” Harald said as he held out a drink to his brother, “Another?”

“I went on a walk,” he said as he took the cup.

Harald made a face however, “By yourself?”

Halfdan rolled his eyes, “No with…” he said, turning to point to you only to realise the space you once stood was empty, “She was right there,” he muttered before telling Harald your name.

Harald just shook his head, “You weren’t with anyone brother. I saw you walk up the hill yourself,”

“That’s impossible,” he muttered as his eyes scanned the crowd.

His attention was only drawn back when he heard Harald shiver, “You’d think that fire would feel warmer,” he said making Halfdan’s eyes widen.

His eyes turned to the bonfire, staring into the flames. He saw you through them like before but this time he did not see you on the other side. Perhaps he’d drank too much Harald suggested when he assured him no one had been sitting on that fallen tree. However, when Halfdan saw the tree standing unbent and unwavering the next day he knew he had met you. he just had not realised you were a god. A god who he could never love. It was all so romantical he thought.

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[disasterofastory]

Fuck you (Halfdan x Reader)

Fuck you Halfdan x Reader Warnings: rough smut, fighting, mention of cheating (no angst)

Summary: Halfdan and you meet again.

The sun is bright and warm at the top of the clear, blue sky. The rays glide over the blade of your sword. The steel glints with every move you make. Your muscles are taut as you keep your posture. You are covered in mud and blood. Bruises already form on your skin. Your lips pull into a snarl as your gaze meets with the man's dark eyes in front of you. His blonde hair hides half of his face. Your eyes follow the lines of his tattoos with familiarity. Adrenaline and anger rush through your veins at the view. "Y/N," he says your name, breaking the silence between you two. You can barely hear him because of the chaos around you. Cries and shouts fill the clearing, mixing with the strikes of the swords. A shield falls into the mud a few meters away from you. You can see Ubbe from the corner of your eyes. You don't reply to him. Pushing your leg against the ground, you start to run. Your heart throbs with pain as you get closer with each step.

What are you doing? Are you really ready to fight against him? To kill him?

The sharp sound of your swords meeting in the air echoes in your mind. Your arm trembles as you try to keep yourself against his push. A growl breaks up from your chest. Your eyes are still intertwined with his. "Y/N!" He shouts your name. "Y/N!" "You left!" You scream at him. Your swords meet again with a new elan. Betrayal fuels your every move. "Y/N!" With a powerful swing, he makes you drop your weapon with a painful grunt. The swords fall onto the ground, but you don't even have time to reach out for it. Halfdan hauls you up despite your best efforts to get free from his arms. His shoulder digs into your stomach, and his arms curl around your legs to keep you from kicking him. Your fists meet his back repeatedly. You hit him again and again. "Let me go!" You shout at him. Blood rushes into your head. You choke on your own saliva. "Fight, you coward!" It's his turn to say nothing, and when you look up before disappearing into the forest, you see the others continuing their fight without noticing yours or Halfdan's absence.

"Put me down!" Your voice seems too loud in the quiet forest. The sounds of the battle are muffled and far away. "Halfdan!" You hit his back again. "What the fuck are you doing?" A sudden grunt escapes your lips when he drops you down. Your back falls against a tree as you try to keep your balance. Your chest moves up and down rapidly as you stare at the tall man in front of you. "I won't fight with you," he says, not looking away from you even for a second. He is determined and serious. "Because you are a coward," you snap at him. You know you play a dangerous game. You have no weapon, and you don't know where he hides his daggers since he left his sword on the field too. "Y/N…" "What?" You snap at him again. "What else do you have to say? You left! You went with Bjorn! And now you can't even fight with me like a real man!" A vicious growl rumbles in your chest, and before you can move away, he is on you.

His kiss is bruising, all teeth and bites. Thrusting his tongue into your mouth, Halfdan doesn't let you get away from him. Your grip on his tunic is tight and confusing. You want to push and pull him at the same time. Your mind, body, and soul want different things, and you don't know what to do.

So you let your anger guide you.

A low groan vibrates on your lips when you bite his bottom lip to pull on the soft flesh. His hold on the line of your jaw to keep you in place will bruise. The taste of blood spreads across your tongue. Your lips are swollen when you break away. His arms don't let you go far. Your body is still pressed against his. "Y/N…" "Just shut up," you groan. "I don't want to hear your stupid voice!" You hit him on the chest again and again. "Or your bullshit excuses! You are a fucking traitor, Halfdan! You ran after that idiot! Did you see the world? Huh? Did you like it? Or your new owner didn't let you?"

Pain runs over your spine as he pushes you down onto the ground. You hit your head on something, and you feel the warmth of your own blood at the nape of your neck. The world around you gets blurry for a long second, but Halfdan doesn't stop.

"I didn't leave you," he groans against the curve of your neck. His lips are rough as he nibbles on your skin. His teeth sink into the part between your neck and shoulder. "Liar!" You grunt. "You are a coward! A man would…" "I'm your man!" He says, reaching down to free himself from his pants, and you push him off of yourself. "Don't fool yourself," you stand up hurriedly. "You and I… it's over," you tell him while you start to make your way back to the others. He is still on the ground. Dick out. "And I fucked your brother."

His roar really scares you this time. It strikes through your body as you gasp when he grabs your ankle. You bite your tongue because of the fall. Blood fills your mouth, and you spat it out. "You fucker!" You groan, wanting to turn onto your back, but he is on you again. His whole weight is on you. "Get off of me!" "Did you enjoy it?" He asks next to your ear. His erection grinds against your bottom. "Fucking my brother? Who started it, huh? I bet he did. He always wanted a piece of you." "Halfdan!" Your voice is a mix of shout and moan. "When?" He continues while tearing your pants off of you. "Did he at least wait until my ship disappeared at the horizon? Or he climbed on you immediately? Were you happy? Did you want him?" His hard cock slides between your ass cheeks. His hands keep you on the ground by your shoulders. Your face is on the ground. Mud sticks to your sweaty skin. "What do you want to hear, huh?" You ask him, wanting to turn around to look at him, but he pushes you back. Pain radiates from your shoulder. "Or did you seduce him? Did you forget who you belong to? Did you forget who owns your pussy so easily?" "Well," you grunt. "It seems like you are the one who forgot my pussy!" "Never," he replies immediately. You feel his every word on your back. "I never forgot this sweet hole!" The sound you make is barely recognizable as a laugh. "How does it feel, huh?" You taunt him. "Knowing that somebody else used my body?" Another groan is your only answer, but instead of scaring you, the vicious sound goes straight to your cunt. Your walls clench around the head of his cock. Your eyes fall shut at the familiar feeling. "Did you cum?" He asks, pushing inside you with one powerful thrust. "Did you cum around his cock, huh? Did he taste your sweet juices?" "Why do you care?" You moan. He doesn't let you adjust around his size, and you don't want him to. You welcome the slight pain as your hole stretches around him. "You were probably busy with another woman!" "And I thought about you pussy!" He grunts. You can barely keep up your hips to meet his pounding. You can hear the wet sound of your joined bodies even through his words. It's sloppy and fast. "Well, I didn't think about your cock! I was too occupied riding your brother!" That's the last straw. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you onto your knees. His cock is inside you the whole time.

His grip on your hips is tight and painful. His fingertips dig into your flesh. Your arms are in front of you to brace yourself against him. Your forehead is pressed onto the ground, and your eyes are closed. You are sweaty, bloody, and dirty. Everything hurts, and your mouth tastes like blood. And still. You don't remember the last time you were so content and happy. Halfdan fills you up, pounding into you rapidly. Your ass shakes with every thrust. Your juices drip down, making a mess on your inner thighs. "Whose cock is inside you?" The blonde Viking asks. "Yours." Your words are muffled, and Halfdan doesn't like it. Your back arches when he pulls your upper body up by your hair. Your skull hurts at the powerful tugs. "I didn't hear you," he tells you. "Whose cock is inside you, Y/N?" "Yours," you cry out. "Who is the only one who can make you feel this way?" "You!" Tears run down your face when he tugs on your hair stronger. It burns. Everything burns. You are sore and tired and in pain. "Your pussy is mine, Y/N," he grunts. His cock slides in and out of you. "You belong to me! You are mine!" "Yes," you mewl. "Yesyesyesyes! Halfdan!" Your muscles twitch, and your aching cunt pulses and flutters around him. "Scream my name, Y/N," he yells at you, pushing you down on the ground, keeping your lower body still up for his cock to fuck. His large hand is a heavy weight on the middle of your back. "Halfdan! Yes! Gods, please, Halfdan!" You taste the wet soil in your mouth as you shout his name. Your voice is hoarse. Your orgasm is powerful and merciless. It takes away every power from your body until you are nothing, but a hot cunt for him to enjoy. "Your pussy belongs to me, Y/N," he growls. His cock jerks inside you. His hot seed fills your hole until the mix of your juices flows down your legs. "Nobody can fuck this pussy as good as me! Nobody can fuck you like I do!" "Nobody," you repeat his words without your control. Your lips move on their own accord. "Halfdan!"

The world still spins around you when you turn to your side. Your lower body is still bare. Your cunt is swollen and sensitive and covered in your wetness and his cum. Pain and pleasure make your whole body tremble. Halfdan lies next to you on his back. His face is flushed, and his mouth is open as he gulps down the air. "Did you…" the man tries to speak after long moments. "Did you really…?" One glance at your smirk and the mischievous glint in your eyes, and he knows the answer. And it's enough to climb up above you for another round.

[author-morgan]

🌹 for the WIP ask!

From my upcoming Harald-Halfdan fic:

Now completed and posted here.

“My brother–” Harald starts, but you press your fingertips to his weathered lips, shushing him and chasing away any apprehension or fear of driving a rift between the three of you with what comes next. “Halfdan knows,” you tell Harald with airy unconcern—fingers slipping down to comb through his silver-tinged wiry beard. Your trysts had never been clandestine, even before whatever this unspoken thing with his brother began before Ragnar's failed raid on Paris. “He’s very astute,” you remark, the corner of your lips quirking upward again. “You could stand to learn a thing to two.”

send me a 🌹 and i'll post one random sentence (paragraph) of a random WIP i'm currently writing

[woahhhgwendolyn]

Sex With Halfdan Would Include...

-Him trying his best to kiss you softly and gently but it always ends up rough and his kisses always end up everywhere but your lips.

-Him trying to be gentle with you and tries to go slow with you but ends up forgetting about being gentle and ends up being rough instead. You have a lot of obvious reminders all over your body because of it.

-Him loving to praise you on how good you are doing and how good you are taking him in you. He also loves to give you cute nicknames.

-Him loving to go down on you even though he feels like he is not very skilled at it. Then he would often slap your folds after he is done making you cum just to make sure you know that he is not done with you yet.

-Him loving to surprise you with his thrusts from going slow to fast. He loves the look on your face whenever he does this.

-Him loving to slap your ass whenever he can because he loves to hear you squeal a bit when he does this and also how there is a red mark on your ass after he slaps it.

-Both of you often going to the market to buy new clothes because he cannot help but rip your clothes off of you.

-He loves to show you how much he loves you. No matter what.