#hvitserk x plus size reader

[lisinfleur]

MASTERLIST - Vikings Content

Once this blog was entirely turned to the Series Vikings. Now that we're opening new themes, this post is a way for you who liked my Vikings Content to keep track of my old works so you can come back in time and enjoy them one more time!

This masterlist will have content related to:

The series Vikings and its characters.

Series and side works made by Vikings Cast

Original characters in the series' universe - on demand

⁑ Anything with more than 2 chapters.

WIPs:

No WIP at the moment.

Finished:

Universe | Crossover Kriger x A Bond Between People

Et Bånd Mellem Krigere Pairing | Mads x Joy, Adrian x Reader Info | Fix It AU, crossover Kriger x A Bond Between People. ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, heavy ANGST, SMUT included, cursing, mentions of murder, blood, violence, drugs, death. Caution is recommended: the following content may be triggering.

Universe | Vikings

Curse Pairing | No pair Info | Viking Age AU, Fantasy AU ⁑ Warnings: Horror, heavy ANGST, cursing, fictional creatures, mentions of death, mutilation, black magic, murder, major character deaths, blood, and violence. +18

Face the Music Pairing | Hvitserk x Plus Size! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, Requested by @thiahilmarsdottir​⁑Warnings: ANGST, romance. Mentions of fat-shaming, betrayal. Erotic content.

For the Sake of All Pairing | Sigurd x Blaeja Info | Viking Age AU, multiple shots related to one another ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, Fluffy, romance, +18

His... His Only Pairing | Alfred x Reader x Ivar Info | Viking Age AU, multiple drabbles related to one another ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, ANGST, romance, mentions of death, burning, betrayal, and some cursing. +18

Lady of the Lake Pairing | Sigurd x OC Info | Viking Age AU, Fantasy AU ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, romance, fantasy creatures, some cursing, mentions of death, blood, violence, and some horror. +18 

Mishaps Pairing | Hvitserk x OC/Reader Info | Modern AU, Dark AU, Mobster AU, Criminal Vikings AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, ANGST, SMUT included, cursing, mentions of murder, blood, violence, kidnapping, betrayal, 18+

Payback Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Modern AU, Mobster AU, Criminal Vikings AU, Dark AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, ANGST, cursing, mentions of murder, rape, death, violence, abuse, drugs, and torture. +18. Caution recommended: the following content may be triggering.

Rangsælis Pairing | Ubbe x Wife! Reader Info | Viking Age AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, heavy ANGST, SMUT included, cursing, mentions of murder, blood, violence, rape, violence against women, heathenry, death. 18+ Caution recommended: the following content may be triggering.  

Ravished Pairing | Ubbe x Reader Info | Viking Age AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, heavy ANGST, cursing, mentions of death, murder, violence, dirty talk, torture, rape, women humiliation, and violence against women. +18. Caution recommended: the following content may be triggering.

The Wolf, The Dog, and The Maiden Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Viking Age AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, heavy ANGST, cursing, mentions of major character’s death, underage death, murder, and violence. +18. Caution recommended: the following content may be triggering.

Through & Through Pairing | Ivar x OC Info | Viking Age AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, heavy ANGST, SMUT included, cursing, mentions of murder, blood, violence, crimes, torture, slavery, death. Caution is recommended: the following content may be triggering.

When You Weren’t Here to See Pairing | Sigurd x Siggy Björnsðóttir Info | Viking Age AU, requested by multiple anons ⁑Warnings: Mentions of child abandonment and sensitive themes, incestuous relationship (uncle x niece), SMUT, familiar conflicts.

Wrong Choices Pairing | Sigurd x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, Werewolves AU, Alpha x Beta x Omega Dynamics ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, ANGST, Fluffy, romance, mentions of violence, blood, wounds, and cursing. +18

⁑ Little texts, scenes, and little fics with 1 or 2 chapters.

WIPs:

No WIP at the moment.

Finished:

Universe | Cast 

Marco Ilsø

Universe | Vikings

» Ragnarssons Team

Björn Ragnarsson

Ubbe Ragnarsson

Hvitserk Ragnarsson

Sigurd Ragnarsson

Ivar Ragnarsson

Neutral Shots

» Viking Team

Ragnar Lothbrok

Harald Finehair

Other Vikings

» Saxon Team

Alfred, the Great

Other Saxons

⁑ Masterlists for the general events of this blog: ¹For the events focused on a single character, please check the character’s personal masterlist!

2019 Holiday Event - From: Us, To: You, With Love Universe | Vikings Cooperative event with @honestsycrets​ 

Take a look at the links below and enjoy!

Ragnarssons In - Archive Part I and Part II All Ragnarssons reactions headcanons already published

Headcanons Archive - Vikings Content All Headcanons already published for Vikings

Plot List - Vikings Content List of ideas and plot starters for you guys Please, credit if use!

NSFW Prompt Challenge All drabbles published for Vikings in this kind of challenge.

Drabble Challenge All drabbles published for Vikings in this kind of challenge.

Valhalla Panel Scenes The Ragnar’s Sons went to Valhalla together and they’re now around the same table, drinking, feasting, fighting, and answering whatever you want to know!

» Followers Celebrations (Vikings content):

600 Followers Celebration Drabbles  

700 Followers Celebration Drabbles

1000 Followers Celebration Drabbles

2000 Followers Celebration Drabbles

[somethinginthewayiam]

Masterlist

last updated on 11/19/2024

Bold stories or chapters are SMUT/NSFW

Jake Hangman Seresin (Top Gun Maverick)

The girl behind the bar (Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4.1

Part 4.2

Part 5.1

Part 5.2

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

The girl behind the bar : the date (Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader)

Part 1 - the restaurant

Part 2 - the bar

Part 3 - the apartment (1/2)

Part 3 - the apartment (2/2)

Hangman's shift at the Hard Deck

Epoliogue

Chibs Telford (Sons of Anarchy)

Chibs x plus-size reader (18+ throught, minors DNI!!)

A new job

Boys will be boys

Party at the clubhouse

Late night

Aftermath

Dress-up

Dress down

Car troubles

Part of the business

Better offer

Lockdown

A New Home

Maybe baby

Oh so horrible

Redwoody Productions

Wrong number

Henry Cavill Masterlist

Sebastian Stan

Sebastian x Anna (OFC) Series

Nightcap

The universe can be a bitch  Part 1  Part 2

What happens in New York…  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7

Requests

Morning kisses (Ben Hardy fluff)

Imagines

You win an Oscar (Ben Hardy fluff)

Joe’s daughter (Joe Mazzello fluff)

BoRap Cast

Unexpectedly expecting (Ben Hardy x reader)

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10  Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14 (unfinished)

Prove it to me (Ben Hardy x plus-size reader)

My new favorite t-shirt (Ben Hardy x plus-size reader)

PRESSing matters (Ben Hardy x reader)

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10  Part 11

At the BAFTAs after party (main story)

- Gwil Part

- Joe Part

- Ben Part

Alex Hogh Andersen

Temporary Roommate (Alex x Reader)

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13

Hvitserk

The gift (Hvitserk x OC x Magrethe)

My AO3 account

[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.

[littlemessyjessi]

Autumnal Activities with the Ragnarssons

Autumn Activities with the Ragnarssons 

. 

PS Reader

Viking Age 

AFAB Reader

. 

Bjorn: 

So with Bjorn it's somewhat about an adventure.   He is a curious soul and has the heart of a traveller.  I could easily see him getting a small boat together and planning a small trip for the two of you.  He's been a lot of places and seen a lot of things.   Usually, the places are during raiding season when it's warmer.   However, he has to admit that the autumnal shades paint a pretty picture.   He'd pack the boat up with furs and foods and chart a course for stargazing. Crisp autumn air, snuggling into furs, glittering stars above you, waves gently crashing against the boat.  It's the ultimate vacation.  It's only for about a week or so every year but it is always one of his favorite traditions. 

Ubbe: 

Oh my gods.  So, can we say husband material?  Ubbe gets INTO this.  He's in full nest mode.  The whole house has to completely transform.   And he spends the day at the market on a full shopping extravaganza.  And you are most certainly dragged along.   He's so freaking excited.   He knows what vendors he wants to visit and a pretty good idea of what he's getting.  The man has a list.   The cinnamon scented candles from the beekeeper.  A new tunic for him, a new dress for you.  Both dyed that deep dark red with leaves embroidered on the sleeves. A new breadbowl with a carving of a fox.   A bottle of spiced mead.  Like homeboy goes IN.  And honestly, you love the hell out of him for it. 

Hvitserk: 

Surprisingly, another nester.   Though, it manifests in different ways.    Hvitserk does love his food.  This is nothing new.   We were all aware of this.    So expect weekly trips to the market for new ingredients.   Expect off time spent trying new recipes.  Adventures baking and outdoor cooking.  Home and hearth and full bellies for this son of Ragnar.  Hvitserk is all about the flavors of fall. 

Sigurd: 

Sigurd will wax poetic for you.  Nah, maybe not full on poetry but expect evenings under a tree with the prince.   He'll wrap you in a fur blanket and tuck you against the bark of the trunk and let his fingers strum at the strings of his oud. 

Ivar: 

A chariot ride to see the changing colors of autumn.   He's prepared a picnic feast and you enjoy the scenery.  Eventually,  he surprises you when he takes you to a hillside covered in leaves and suggests rolling through the leaves.   It was the absolute best time. 

—--

Happy fall ya'll! I hope you're enjoying the autumnal season! 

I hope you liked this and thanks again anon for requesting!

I would love to hear what you thought!

Love, K

@toomanyfictionalboyfriends

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@blackirisposts

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@thegreatirene

@angelus320

@disneymarina

@sullybot

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@leah-halliwell92

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@glassesandthunderthighs

@lyn-g

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@milkshakelol

@sunnysidesblog

@speedyhandsbonkpalace

@mwitsmejk

@pinkcherrybombs

@abc-abc1234-a

@vj21

@kelly-fushiguro345

@minshookie29

@shycupcakealissa

@m-rae23

@thedarkwinterrose

[riverkloss]

Love at First Sight (dark hvits & plus reader)

CHAPTER THREE

Greetings! Here is the long awaited third chapter in Love at First Sight!

❤I owe this one to @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for cheering this on and betareading! ❤

•••••••

Ivar recalled how many girls he took to bed, but how many he loved was a very different matter. 

Freydis was his first love and his first fuck. She was so fairy-like and light on her feet that she always seemed to be floating on her toes. She had long, gold hair wrapped around her head like a halo. She crushed his heart into a billion fragments and spit in it. Betrayed him and left. 

Katya. He was so struck in a daze when he looked at her across a bar in Saint Petersburg. Dark hair in a bob, but her features uncannily resembled Freydis. Ivar could have sworn that they could have been twins. She wasn't as light as Freydis. Tattoos covered her skin like a canvas, he remembered tracing a bright koi fish in water on her thigh. The high didn't last long with her because she wasn't Freydis. 

There were so many girls over the years, maybe a change was good. He felt like he was ready enough to settle down and have a few baby feet running around. He didn't care how many. He liked the thought of a son. Teaching him how to play chess, honestly anything. He wanted to do right, be something that his father wasn’t for him. His father, Ragnar, loved him; of course, his father loved all his sons but he didn't know what to make of Ivar. He knew of his strengths. Ragnar made Ivar who he was today. 

Hvitserk was just always there. A true brother. And he was doing this for him: standing outside the apartments, patiently waiting as he pressed a second cigarette to his lips and inhaling the nicotine into his lungs, taking glances at the door every so often to see if someone was coming. Lurking outside of an apartment building didn't look that suspicious if it looked like he was waiting on someone. 

When someone finally came out, the doors unlocked for a brief moment. Ivar went inside letting the heavy metal door close behind him. Walking as if he was meant to be there, the lobby was small and smelled like lemon pledge, and the elevator was out of order, making him curse in his head. Fuck it. Cardio right? He knew his leg would be aching. Climbing the stairs was easy enough because she only lived on the second floor. How Hvitserk managed to steal a piece of mail from the mailroom he didn't want to know. 

Apt 32. 

Black bulky numbers on a plain grey-colored door and a long stretch of the hallway with no one in sight. 

One thing about Ivar, he learned to crack a door with a credit card and a bobby pin at a young age. It was easy to pop the door open, and he pushed the door open almost too cockily and smirked peeking inside. 

There was a modern touch, sleek and new. A black and white checkered couch was pressed against the wall and a painting of Marilyn Monroe was hung up above it with an abstract Chanel bottle beside it. The floor was all carpeted in a tan color. 

Ivar took off his shoes, and put them on the shoe rack beside the door, leaving only his socks on to make his rounds around the apartment. 

The living room felt like a showpiece, something that would be in an Instagram post. The kitchen wasn't big and was just as modern as the living room. 

He peeked open the fridge to find it in a disarray of different foods and drinks. He picked up one of the many yogurt drinks; Strawberry Banana looked promising. He opened it with a satisfying crack and took a sip before shutting the fridge to go explore around the small apartment. There was only a small hall with three doors. The bathroom door was wide open with different makeup and hair tools scattered around the sink and counter. 

Ivar thought to himself which door it's the lucky prize, one or two? He picked two and was right on the money. He flipped on the light revealing a very cozy-looking full bed, with a grey and blue plaid bedspread and matching pillowcases and a stuffed animal fox sitting there watching him with stitched button eyes. 

Her room kind of smelled like something warm, like a bakery and coffee. There were shelves of books, too many to count, neatly on shelves and some on her bedside table. She had a small Bluetooth radio, and a flat-screen TV hung up on the wall, a writing desk with stationery galore in its own place, and journals propped in a pile on the very edge of it. Reading into the life of a girl wasn't exactly in Ivar’s plans for today.

Ivar set down the drink on the desk, running his fingertip across the different spines. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and picked up the black one with stickers decorating it. Then he pulled back the elastic strap and flickered through all the pages of sprawled handwriting, some neat, others written frantically with the ink smudged on the paper, and with coffee drips that left a trace of her. 

Ivar fell into her world on the pages. It was something unfiltered, a chaos of the mind, a beautiful frenzy unraveling before his eyes on a single piece of paper. Flipping through page after page, Ivar felt consumed by her words.

More than he should have.

Where does the line end from freedom to loneliness? 

Hvitserk didn't know everything about her as he thought he did. He didn't know her sadness, her loneliness, her deep longing to just feel seen by someone who could fully understand her completely. 

She wanted to be looked at. 

He stepped into her most raw and tender thoughts and on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his moment. At the second ring, he looked to see Hvitserk’s name lit up the screen, answering and pressing it to his ear. 

"You're really annoying, you know that?" Ivar snipped, snapping the journal closed and setting it on her desk. 

"You're the one not picking up your phone," Hvitserk grumbled on the other side of the phone. 

He felt his leg ache a little with a stinging feeling for shifting his weight on it longer than he had realized, so he moved to pace across the room. "I'm busy." Ivar’s brow went looking at the wooden dresser and he started to open the drawers until he found what he'd been looking for. 

The soft ones were his favorite. The feel between his fingertips. The panties were cheeky, with blue and pink stripes and a nice little blue bow at the middle - the cherry on top. He plucked the fabric and stuffed it in his pants pocket. He saw some mauve-pink lacy ones with the tags still on and it made his heart race a little. "Goddamn," Ivar whispered.

"What are you doing?" Hvitserk questioned impatiently. 

"Your little girlfriend has quite a collection of underwear," Ivar smirked and felt a shift of rage on the other side of the phone. 

"Get out of her underwear, pervert." 

Ivar chuckled in response deviously. "You said to inspect and observe." 

"Not her panty drawer!" His brother yelled then said in a hushed whisper. "Not her panty drawer." 

There's a pause for a moment.

"Quit staring at me, O'Donnell. I'm on a business call." Hvitserk tells someone on the other side of the phone. There's a deeper voice telling his brother something. 

Ivar can't make out what it is but it sounds mocking. 

"Let me call you back..." The line goes dead as presumably, Hvitserk goes to beat up his coworker. Hvitserk didn't even like the job that much at the loading docks but he wanted to make a decent living. A respectable job. Though he had a bit of money stashed away from their father's estates from having a good job, just not very legal or respectable.

Ivar didn't see the point. In his eyes, it was like playing checkers when he was playing chess. He earned his money fair and square from old chess opponents he played back in the day who still were trying to grapple onto another game to be played. They worked 24/7, married with 2.5 kids. Mostly miserable in their midlife crisis. They always lose. They always have. 

Ivar wanted stability, secretly. Even if he wasn't all stable himself. He would never admit it aloud. And the other half wanted to be better than his father, to seek glory and fame which led to his ruthlessness as a competitor. He won all his games and headed for new opportunities. A blackmailer for the high and mighty. 

Ivar gently shut her dresser drawer. 

He went over to her bed and ran his fingers over the soft blanket before he decided to lay on her bed sinking his head into the pillow. His one hand laid lazily on his stomach looking up to the bare ceiling.

A little quiet for a while.

TagList

@flowers-in-your-hayr @deans-ch-ch-cherrypieherrypie @heavenly1927 @wittysunflower

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Knew Him Well

Pairing: Hvitserk x Plus-size reader

Word Count: 2664

Warnings: Sexual themes

Summary: As a goddess, you knew everything about him.

Thanks to @shannygoatgruff for beta reading. 

Beautiful moodboard by @flowers-in-your-hayr​ 

AN: So I kinda broke my writers block with this one. This was a request I wrote for the lovely @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie as promised. It’s my first time writing for Hvitserk, but it’s entirely in the point of the reader. I really hope you like it 🥺❤️

As always, I tagged those who might be interested.

...

You knew him well.

You knew of his heart's desires, his pains, his joys, his failures. You knew his likes and dislikes, what he loved and what he did not.

Hvitserk was a simple mortal. He loved apples.

When you allowed the frozen rivers and skeleton trees to burst forth again with life, apples were among the first you pushed to grow ripe.

You watched him often in his youth.

He had small chubby hands then, always reaching up towards the skies. His tiny fingers would spread in futile attempts to snatch a bright red apple that hung just a few feet above him.

Usually, there was always someone to reach one for him. Sometimes it was Siggy, pushing herself on her toes to please the little prince with the sweet fruit. Sometimes it was Floki, the gangly man easily plucking two from a branch with a smile. And sometimes it was his mother whenever she decided to pay her second son some attention, her fox-like face pinching in concentration while deciding which apple would be best to eat.

This time, no one was around to help.

He pouted, baby arms crossed over his chest in discontent.

You remembered his green eyes, bright against his dirt-covered face from a morning of mischief with his brother.

You pitied him.

A simple wave of your hand and the tree suddenly shook its branches, dancing in the gentle wind. A perfect apple landed by his small feet. It was a deep shade of red, rich like blood.

You smiled at his sudden squeals of delight.

He reached for it in glee, hands clumsily wiping the dirt away before taking a hefty bite with tiny teeth. He chewed once, then twice before his curious eyes spotted you. He took a few steps forward, searching behind the large base of the tree for your figure.

He caught sight of you. Your eyes were an impossible hue and your skin glowed brighter than the sun.

A goddess.

But you disappeared as quickly as you came, the scent of wildflowers lingering in the breeze.

He was only five, not fully capable of understanding the memory, but he'd never forgotten it. And neither did you.

...

You knew him well.

You watched him grow more curious as the seasons changed, watched how his tiny hands were finally able to firmly grip a sword without it slipping from his fingers.

He was a man now, long-limbed and broad-shouldered. His hair had grown, always neatly braided down his back by serving girls. A lopsided grin hung from his lips at any given moment, his talented fingers dancing over the smooth skin of his many conquests. But his eyes remained the same, bright green against his pale skin.

He was a man with an appetite that craved for more than apples.

He craved women.

The finest mortal women of Midgard easily caught his eye. Thick or thin, willing or not, it did not matter to him.

But it mattered to you. A goddess.

The sound of your voice commanded the earth to bloom green after a long winter, and your golden apples fed the gods their eternal youth. Power sizzled through your fingertips like blazing fire and yet you were not immune to jealousy, a fault that all the gods have endured.

Envy was unknown to you. There was no reason to be acquainted. You had everything you could want: eternal youth, immortality, power. These things had been enough.

But it was the women he bedded that had your stomach churning and your lips set in a frown. The countless women sprawled under him, legs wrapped around his hips with toes curling in the air. You'd sneer, the smallest hints of rage filling you enough to create a spark.

You wanted to strip the earth bare, strip away the beauty held by the women that he chased. But you would not punish the earth, nor the women for the faults of one man. One mortal man.

Still, you were not angry with him.

When the mortals of Kattegat congregated on festival days building altars and sacrificing their animals to appease the gods during the summer solstice, he worshipped you, pouring rich cider over your altar and muttering the words he practiced with his queen mother.

Bless our trees heavy with a sweetness that bears us through the winter cold.

You listened to his prayers, and the Autumn harvest swelled with ripened apples before Skadi laid the first frosts of winter.

You continued to watch him.

He took to journeying across foreign seas for fame, riches, and more women. He was in his prime, his features blooming with youth that would never glow the same way again.

It saddened you.

...

"You know him well." The Allfather appeared beside you, his hoarse voice erupting from deep within his chest. His black cloak billowed like thick smoke from under him.

His presence used to startle you back when you were a younger goddess, unaware of his nature. Now you've grown used to his silent footfall.

"I do." You said, your throat tightening as you watched how Hvitserk suffered. “I admire him.”

The older god regarded you for a moment before peering down towards Midgard. He watched as the young man vomited over himself, shifting quickly to huddle into a corner. His hair, damp from the harsh rains, made his eyes appear wild, like a wounded beast caught in a trap.

"Admire his weakness?" The Allfather questioned.

"His strengths." You corrected, daring to glance at the king of the gods. He raised an ancient hand to stroke down the length of his graying beard. He did not miss the harshness in your tone as hidden as it was. You were as sharp as knives.

"He is a troubled mortal," was all he said.

"Wronged by his own brothers." You reasoned. It was no wonder Hvitserk turned to wild herbs for comfort.

"Indeed." He agreed, shifting his godly gaze back to you, the blue of his eye deeper than the oceans belonging to Ràn. "I had favored his father once. Perhaps there is a reason you favor his son." He spoke as if he knew of things that you did not know of. Perhaps he did.

You remained silent, not knowing much else to say.

"You want to go to him," The king of the gods knew. "So go."

You held your basket tightly in your hands, your knuckles turning white against your golden skin from the pressure. You had wanted to go to him for so long, only allowing yourself the one encounter so many years ago. Gods did not mingle with mortals often.

But you knew Hvitserk was delirious. He would think of your presence as nothing but a hallucination. It would have to do.

The Allfather chuckled, his hand outstretched expectantly. You quickly reached into your woven basket to place a golden apple in his cold palm, watching how his large fingers curled over it. It was not for him. He was king of the gods, he did not fret over youthfulness as his wife did.

"Please send Frigg my love." The words barely left your berry-colored lips before he disappeared.

You turned back towards Midgard. Hvitserk was now asleep, limbs twitching and eyes rolling under his dark lids.

You went to him.

...

You had grown bold.

You visited him on many nights, watching him sleep. Your hand would gently caress his cheeks, smoothing down the arch of his sweaty brows as he dreamed of countless horrors. The foul murder of a woman. The burning of another.

You pitied him.

His eyes would barely open, lashes splitting apart to gaze at you. But he could not see you, not truly. Still, you would smile at him, pushing his stringy locks away from his face, and he’d fall back into a fitful slumber. You’d kiss his skin and leave by dawn, your touch remaining on his skin like a whisper once he woke.

Hvitserk had recuperated under your godly touch after a few weeks, waning himself away from the wild herbs that destroyed his body and mind.

But he no longer searched the trees for your apples, nor did he pour golden cider over your altar. He did not burn offerings in your name, nor whisper his prayers. He was lost as if caught at sea in a raging storm. He did not know his purpose, and without purpose, he would achieve nothing.

He had been a berserker once, a powerful warrior in battle. He had much to be proud of. Now he was but a mere soul wandering Midgard like a ghost.

He no longer believed.

And you pitied him once more.

…

You visited him again. It would be the last time.

"I know you well." Your voice, so simple in the realm of the gods, was like a bird song in his ears.

Hvitserk gawked at you, mouth open like a fish in a clear stream. He jumped up, feet now planted firmly over the soft grass of his favorite meadow.

He was a bit older, though not by much. His eyes were not as bright as you had known them to be, a dull green that held countless stories. He kept his hair pulled back recently, tightly bound towards his nape with a leather band. His fine tunic hid the worst of the battle scars, thin lines of healed skin barely peeking through the collar. Signs of a warrior.

You smiled, taking a step towards him. You were not wearing any shoes, your toes digging into the familiar earth. Fresh regrowth and new flowers bloomed after your every step. He noticed.

His eyes took in your bare feet, traveling up the length of your thick calves, your curvaceous hips, and your large chest until finally settling on your eyes. He swallowed. They were an impossible hue.

"Who are you?" He squinted, though he did not know whether it was from the glare of the sun or your powerfully glowing skin. "A ghost?"

A chuckle bubbled past your lips as you reached into your basket full of ripe apples. You plucked the brightest one, tossing it to him. He caught it easily.

"My name is Idun." You answered with the name mortals had given you centuries ago.

Hvitserk silently inspected the apple in his calloused hands. It was a deep shade of red, rich like blood. The fruit was fragrant and smooth to the touch, his fingers carefully grazing over the delicate red skin. His eyes went back to you.

"I remember." He finally said, eyes twinkling as they did when he was a child. Those were the eyes you knew. “I remember you.” His voice held a note of recognition, his mind searching through the memories from long ago.

The blood-red apple at his feet and the glow of your skin. The hue of your eyes and the smell of wildflowers. He remembered.

"I've watched you your whole life," You told him, your thin dress billowing with the gentle breeze, "I have shared your joys and your pains, dear Hvitserk. You are not alone." The smile that stretched the corners of your mouth was a sad one, but he did not notice. All he could see was your ethereal beauty.

His lips moved as if to speak but he found himself stunned by the goddess before him.

“I came to spend the night with you if you desire it.” You offered your hand to him and he did not hesitate in taking it.

…

His hands worshiped you.

His fingers dug into your full hips tightly, enough to leave bruises if not for your godly resilience.

You moved above him, up and down, gently then rapidly, giving him exactly what he desired. You whispered in his ear of his successes, blessing him with the fruitful future he deserved.

His lips traced heat over your skin, tongue teasing the jewels that hung from your ears. His fingers lingered in the strands of your hair, holding you flush against him.

You loved him, you realized. You had for years.

But it could never be. Dawn would come and you’d swiftly make your way back to the realm of the gods, watching him once again from afar.

It would have to be enough.

He filled you, a guttural groan escaping his throat as he held you close. Your bountiful chest molded perfectly against him as he lowered you both over the warm furs. The signs of sleep passed over his eyes and a lazy smile curled on his lips.

Dawn arrived faster than you had hoped.

You peeled away from him, setting his arm over his lean stomach. You cast him one last look, admiring how the dying fire made his skin glow like a god, before disappearing.

The sun placed itself high in the sky when his eyes opened next. He shifted, his nose picking up the scent of wildflowers. He looked over his shoulder, hoping to find you beside him but was greatly disappointed. You had left at dawn as you said you would.

The furs were cold where you once were. His fingers reached out, searching for the warmth he knew would not be there. But there was something that caught his attention.

His fingers grazed against a smooth surface, hidden under the furs. He ripped them off, his eyes settling over the golden apple you left behind.

…

The summer solstice began.

Altars were built for the gods. Animals were sacrificed and offerings burned. The air was filled with the sweet scent of worship.

You watched Hvitserk at your altar pouring rich cider over the offerings burned in your name. He whispered his prayers again with hopeful fervor.

You smiled. He believed again.

…

An older woman wept beside a funeral pyre, the body of her deceased husband igniting under the heat of violent flames. The smoke rose, swiftly taking his soul into the afterlife. His son and daughter comfort their mother, tears slipping down their cheeks.

You pitied them. Perhaps you pitied yourself, too.

“He is dead?” The Allfather asked, peering down toward Midgard. It was a useless question. He was king of the gods, he knew all. His two ravens sat obediently on each of his shoulders, beady black eyes searching down below.

“Yes.” You said, your voice monotone. “He fell in battle.”

“He was a good mortal,” The king of the gods commented, “But a mortal, nonetheless.” Mortal. You could not keep Hvitserk from aging. Your golden apples were not made for human consumption.

“Yes.” You repeated, watching how high the smoke traveled from his pyre. You could nearly touch it if you stretched your arm out toward the skies.

“Hvitserk.” You heard his wife wail. The name would be a memory now. You would remember him in his best days, when he was in the prime of his youth, green eyes bright and a grin that could conquer all of Midgard.

You had almost forgotten the Allfather was beside you, his looming presence not enough to deter your attention away from the funeral. He placed his spindly fingers on your shoulder. It was the only comfort he could give.

“He will serve me well when the time comes.” He promised. His words did not lift your spirits. He gazed back towards the grave filled with riches befitting Hvitserk’s station. “You knew him well.” He added before he disappeared, his two ravens flying off to collect more knowledge in unknown places.

You peered down below again, your eyes catching sight of a familiar glint. Buried among gold and silver trinkets was your golden apple, shining fiercely despite the overcast day.

You did not think you could cry. Nothing had ever moved you to tears before. You felt a foreign prickling behind your eyes. Tears filled to the brim until you no longer had the strength to hold them back.  

Gold ran down your cheeks in painted streaks.

You knew him well.

...

@didiintheblog @a-mess-of-fandoms @leilabeaux @shannygoatgruff @inforapound @fuchsiagrasshopper @pomegranates-and-blood  @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @grimeundglow 

@doctorwhoandfairytaillover

[artemiseamoon]

How long is too long?

Modern! Hvitserk x Plus Size F Reader

A special valentines drabble

Words: 1,133

Moodboard - mine | Crefit to gif maker

Warnings: Angst, thinking about a dead loved one, anti-valentines day feelings then fluff.

AN: Well this got long, not a drabble anymore I guess.  

Hvtiserk watches as the customer leaves the shop, a large size bag of chocolates and other desserts in hand. There goes another one, he thinks.

He thinks about Thora too.

He thinks about the last three years and how he lost himself, then found himself again. Still, in all that time there was the lingering loneliness.

How long was too long? How long would he be alone? How long until he was able to let himself be close to someone again?

His eyes trail over to the left, where two girls, roommates he overheard, giggle and smile at Bjorns stupid jokes. He didn’t have to do anything, did he? Just look at them.

Shaking his head, Hvitserk reaches under the counter and grabs the rest of the pastry he was eating.

Watching Bjorn was like a real action soap opera playing out before his eyes. Then, a week from now, one, or more of the girls would likely come back in looking for him and wondering why he didn’t call. The same old drama.

That’s not the kind of thinking Hvitserk wanted anyway, if he did, he would have it. He wanted love, he wanted a family...he wanted all the dreams he thought he could have with Thora. Sure, he had his playboy days but now he wanted something more serious.

Soon he would be the only one left in the shop on this dreary day as people did their mad-dash for Valentine's day. Bjorn was likely on his way out with the two girls, Ubbe was at home with his wife and children, and Ivar was with his girlfriend.

Just Hvitserk, selling chocolates on Valentine's day in the shop they dedicated to their mother. Though Bjorn had a different mother, he was in here often; it was his new favorite way to meet women.

Not wanting to think about all that anymore, Hvitserk moves to the sound system and changes the music. A second later, Bjorn stands next to him, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

“You got this right? I have something to do” he looks over at the girls and winks at them.

“They going to pay for that?” Hvitserk motions to the flowers and chocolate the girls are carrying.

“It’s on me.” Bjorn digs in his pocket and shoves too much money into Hvitserk's hand.

“Don’t wait up.”

Hvitserk makes a face and jabs Bjorn with his elbow.

Bjorn circles back around the counter and throws an arm about each girl, then leaving the shop.

Dick. Hvitserk says to himself as he looks at the clock. 1:22 pm. Maybe he could just close early, it kinda sucked standing here while everyone else was out getting ready for their dates.

After a few more rounds of desperate customers, the clock soon strikes 3 and he’s ready to get out of there.

Hvitserk heads to the door and starts to turn the sign over when you put your hand on the handle from the outside.

When your eyes meet, he smiles at you.

You didn’t know it, but he noticed you before. You mentioned something about a Sunday ritual, and you did it every other Sunday for three months since the first time you came in here. You would buy chocolate and a small bouquet of flowers for yourself.

Sure, cute girls came in here all the time but he didn’t really give them much thought. You, you were different.

Aside from your beautiful face and very feminine, full, curvy form, you were also sweet, and funny. It was that rare beauty on the inside and out that really captured his attention and if he was honest with himself, he developed a crush on you.

Opening the door for you, he holds it as you walk in.

“I'm so sorry, it looks like you were going to close.” Your eyes are soft on his and he can’t stop himself from smiling again.

“For you? I’m open, come in.”

You flash a smile and make a b line for your favorite chocolates. You continue to speak to him, though your back is to him.

“I meant to come earlier but today just...I hate Valentine's day so much I could barely get out of bed.” You grab the chocolates and when you turn around he already has the flower mix in his hands you love. “Thank you,” you coo.

“Yeah it does suck, right? People should show their love all year round not just today. But, it's good for business.” He smirks and hands you the flowers.

“I am sure it is. Maybe that's what I need to do, open a business and make a shit load of money on the 14th...you are on to something -” you point at him then look around to avoid the way you melt when you look him in the eyes for too long, “Where’s Ubbe?”

Ubbe really spent the most time in the shop with Hvitserk so most customers knew Ubbe pretty well too.

“With Torvi.”

“Oh yeah, right, of course. You know, people with partners….not part of the lonely hearts club.” You put the stuff on the counter then shake your head, “sorry. I’m being ...don’t mind me.”

Hvitserk laughs and walks around the counter.

“No, don’t apologize. I’ve been thinking the same thing all day.”

“So I’m not alone?” You look him in the face and feel yourself asking the question, though you feel silly asking it. “How are you single?”

He chuckles, in a cute shy way and looks down. Some of this hair falls into his face and all you want to do is smooth it away.

“By choice. I could ask the same for you?” He leans into the counter, eyes steady on yours, eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know, that’s my honest answer. But, to sound cool, let's say by choice.”

You both laugh and he feels his stomach do that thing. It’s another thing he liked about you. For all your sweetness you were honest and sassy and it was just - the perfect mix.

When the silence passes a little longer than expected, you clear your throat and look down, focusing on your purse.

“I don’t want to keep you, here - “ you memorized the amount by now and had it ready, plus a little tip. He was too cute to be alone today, you felt bad.

As you place the money on the counter and slide it over, he places his hand on yours. When he doesn't speak right away, you look up at him.

There’s something new in his eyes, something you don’t see all the time. He usually seemed to be in one of three moods; laid back and very relaxed, sad in an introspective way, or like the most carefree jokester in the world as he laughed with Ivar and Ubbe. But this, this look was new.

“I don’t want your money, this is a gift. I would like to ask you to dinner though.” As the words leave his lips, he even surprises himself. It’s been so long since he asked someone out.

If the way your eyes light up and your lips curve into a smile is any indication, he did the right thing.

“I would love that Hvitserk.” You say with bright clear eyes.

“We could have an anti-valentines day, valentines day.”

“I’m all in.”

He straightens his posture and looks you over, a proud look on his handsome face. “Good. Let’s get out of here.”

He rounds the counter and gently touches your arm before rushing over to turn the sign over and lock the door.

As you sit at a table to the side, watching him do his closing activities you can't help but feel that fluttery feeling in your gut and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Maybe today wouldn't suck after all and maybe it could become one of your favorite days.

Vikings: @naaladareia @oldstuffnewstuff @alicedopey @charming-merlin @laketaj24 @tephi101​@pomegranates-and-blood @fandomfic-galore​ @sagitariusrising​ @gearhead66​ @punkrocknpearls

To be added for vikings: all or certain characters only, send an ask or ask below. 

[quantumlocked310]

In the Bed of Love - Chapter 1

Banner by the AMAZING @flowers-in-your-hayr​​

Aaaaannnd it’s out! Here is chapter 1 of who knows how many in this series. I still haven’t finished it, but i’m at least 5 chapters deep. So buckle up it’s going to be a long one folks.

Summary: Our intrepid Hero Hvitserk, burdened with glorious purpose to prove his godhood, takes the epic journey to slaughter the Gorgons, but stumbles in love along the way.

Warnings (so far): greek mythology inaccuracies, slow burn

Ratings + Word Count: [General - 2,200w]

Series Masterlist (contains extra notes about Greek words and some of the Gods mentioned)

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

He shouldn’t have been there. Yes, Philoctetes told him where to go. Yes, Philoctetes told him it was another of the seemingly endless tasks to prove his godhood. Yes, Philoctetes told him he wasn’t ready. And, as usual, Philoctetes was right.

He wasn’t ready for their beauty. He wasn’t ready for their melodic voices laughing along the wind. He wasn’t ready to see her voluptuous breasts dripping with river water as she and her sisters bathed in the shallows of the river Styx.

He knew as a mortal man he could not venture into the water to slay the fearsome Gorgons, but as he watched them freely, Hvitserk found he did not want to vanquish them. Instead, he wanted to join them. His heart of hearts desired to entertain them. Speak with them. Learn their every desire and fulfill it. He wanted to impress them, so that the most beautiful of them might smile and give him her favor.

Her snakes were tawny, each coil it seemed a different shade of red that glistened in the afternoon sun. The cheeks he gazed upon, as one of her snakes scented her skin, were round and dimpled just slightly as she smiled at her sisters. When she leaned back to float belly up in the dark water his heart stopped beating.

Hvitserk was gifted with a sight no mortal man had ever lived to see. This beautiful Gorgon in all her monstrosity had a body fit to worship. Her breasts were pendulous and dipped to either side of her plump chest as she drifted. His gaze followed the lapping water down to her fleshy stomach, larger than her sisters, but perfect in his mind for caressing and kissing. He imagines his hands would grasp her ample hips as he drove into her sweet mound over and over until she allowed his release.

Her sisters, while not as captivating to this particular mortal, are also beautiful. One has white snakes with marbled textures, each snake with its own pattern. She is tall and muscular, with a body that could rival Hercules himself. The third has dark black snakes that are svelte to match their mistress. She is lithe and graceful and to Hvitserk it seems as if she could float on the wind like a bird if she desired.

As the mortal observes the goddess monsters a twig snaps in the distance, and all three sisters jolt out of the water. Their snakes turn to the sound and a furious hissing rises through the glade. In the cover of the sound, Hvitserk sneaks quietly away, glad that some other idiot will be the sister’s prey.

He returns to the training ground in no hurry to resume the physical tasks demanded of him. His mind is in the clouds with dreams of wooing the Gorgon.

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

For months Hvitserk trains harder than ever. He runs his body into the ground so he will be worthy of the love of a goddess. But he doesn’t just fight harder, he starts to write and plot. He knows he is not as tactically minded as his brother Ivar, who has already left Philoctetes’ training camp to be the warlord for a far away king. Hvitserk instead plots of love. Of ways to talk to his beautiful snake charmer. What he would say if she dared give him a moment of her time.

He’s not an idiot. He knows he could never look into her eyes, but he could whisper sweet words into her ears. Show her his devotion in the beasts he’d slay for her. The flowers he could gather in the wilds that would never rival her radiance. The wars he would wage to spend even a second in her presence. 

His writing is poetry. The Odyssey of her flesh. The Iliad of his pining. He tries to write every inch of his memories on paper. The way the fresh grass in the glade smelled as he beheld her curves. How his knees grew stained with dark dirt as he knelt behind the bush. The exact cadence of hissing as he unwillingly crept away.

One day he is furiously scribbling in his journal, more ideas of what to say to his gorgeous goddess, when he is found by Philoctetes.

“Kid. You’ve got to go.”

“But Phil! You said I wasn’t ready.”

“You’re not! Your head is in the clouds, and you’re trying to become the next Homer instead of running the course day in and day out like you’re supposed to.”

Hvitserk hangs his head. He knows he’s still strong and the fiercest of fighters, but his heart has been stolen by a mysterious woman in the river of the dead.

“Kid. You’ve got to get her out of your system. Even if you die trying.” Philoctetes stomps a hoof, upset at the thought of losing his toughest trainee to the Gorgons. Again.

“Their home is on the black hill that overhangs the mouth of the underworld. Go back to where you saw them. Head south until you see the mouth, then head west until you find their sculpture garden. You’ll be on your own from there. No one has ever gotten farther than the garden.”

Philoctetes shakes his head and clasps Hvitserk on the shoulder. Before he leaves he instructs Hvitserk, “Take anything you want from the storeroom, kid. You’re gonna need it.”

Hvitserk opens the double doors to the storeroom and stares at all the weapons lining the walls and displayed in the center. He immediately goes for the axe, his preferred weapon. He grabs new leather armor, and the shiniest shield he can see. He hopes it will mirror the Aegis in power, and keep him safe if he needs it.

The last armor he finds is a helmet. Just too big for Hvitserk, but it slips over his eyes with a quick jerk of his head, so it will be perfect. Before he leaves on his journey, Hvitserk sees a small shimmer out of the corner of his eye.

There tucked away in the corner of the room is a dusty jewelry box inlaid with golden details. He opens the top and inside is a perfectly preserved set of gold jewelry, laid out as if it is expecting his touch. They look perfect for his Gorgon. Even the earrings have a depiction of Eros, the god of love, whose arrow pierced Hvitserk’s heart that day in the glade. He slips the box into his pack and begins his journey.

Hvitserk retraces his steps to the glade, and is unsurprised to find it empty once again. The dark waters of the Styx seem to mock him in their nothingness. He huffs at the burbling brook and looks up to the sun, and heads south where the rivers flow unnaturally toward the underworld. Hvitserk makes sure to stay as far from the water as he can, lest he happen upon Charon, or other dangerous myths.

As he walks and walks the sun sets and darkness falls on the forest where Hvitserk is forced to stop and camp at the base of a tall almond tree. He wraps his cloak around himself, holding his pack in his hands, and closes his eyes. He wakes rested and hopeful when the sun crests over the horizon; he knows the gods are with him on his journey.

The closer he gets to the underworld the colder the wind seems to be. It is pushing him slowly closer and closer to the chthonian river. As Hvitserk breaks through the brush the wind gives a mighty howl, and he must dig his feet into the soft earth, thighs straining to keep from being pulled into the dank, dark hole into which the river flows. It smells of death and decay, and Hvitserk is almost overwhelmed with memories of battles from long ago, and the screams of enemies and friends alike. He digs his heels in even further and pivots back, struggling to thrust his body behind the closest tree. As soon as his muscled back is pressed tightly to the bark the wind stops and the screaming ceases, and it is as if the forest was never his nightmare.

Our brave hero stays close to the tree, but peers his head around gently. Through the leaves he sees the nebulous maw of the Kingdom of Hades. The jagged stalactites mimic teeth as they fall from the rocky ceiling, and Styx is the lengthy tongue carrying souls led by Charon’s hand to be devoured at the foot of the King.

It takes every effort to look away from the gruesome gullet, but Hvitserk wrenches away his gaze to look beyond. To the top of the hill, where it seems almost pleasant. While dark and black on the inside, the hill itself is covered in mossy grasses and wildflowers that surround the home of the Gorgons.

The Oikos is a substantial size, and looks down the side of the hill, not facing the river as you might expect. Hvitserk sees dark spots spreading out from the inner garden to spill over the side of the hill and down into the valley. As Hvitserk creeps around the forest, avoiding the abyss, he realizes the dark spots are statues. There are some hundred men, animals, some women, and a few seem to be dotted among the trees that frame the Gorgons’ property. It is the garden Philoctetes warned him about.

Over the gentle breeze Hvitserk hears voices, and crouches low in the forest underbrush, testing the air to make sure he is downwind. He can hear the sisters laughing together, but can only pick up a word or a gods’ name here and there. As they get a little closer he can see the sisters are carrying shields, swords, and the one with black snakes has a bow and quiver. She’s the one who swats his love on the butt with one of the arrows, and she and her copper snakes roar, “Sten,” in faux anger and make to chase after the Gorgon with black snakes, but she is halfway across the garden before Hvitserk’s chosen can take another step.

Hvitserk is then witness to a sparring match between the three beautiful Gorgons. Sten uses her bow to loose arrows between her sisters, making sure they can never get complacent. Occasionally she will yell a word before releasing an arrow directly over their head, and Hvitserk comes to learn it is their names, Y/N and Marmor.

Marmor is the most violent fighter of the three. Her attacks carry the heavy weight of all her musculature, and she is confident that her strokes will cleave her enemy in twain.

Y/N is a true shield maiden. Hvitserk watches her use the shield as her main weapon and main defence. She blocks and perries with it, and in one glorious instance is able to thrust the whole shield against Marmor and pushes her back, almost to the ground. 

The fight finishes just as the sun touches the horizon, and the three Gorgons go back inside to the tune of Marmor’s seemingly endless opinions on fighting techniques. In his mind Hvitserk thinks he could help them. He saw the weak points, and where sharp foes may take advantage. He thinks he could even show Marmor a few of the tricks Philoctetes taught him.

In the last light of the sun Hvitserk gets as far away as he can from the statue garden and starts a small fire to roast a rabbit. In the dying embers, and on a full belly, he writes what he can of the fight. The details of how strong his love is. How she is able to take a hit and give one back.

The muses grab hold of Hvitserk’s ink loaded reed and he takes the next piece of papyrus from his stack and begins to draw. What emerges is a crude sketch of Y/N holding her shield in offense, with her feet firmly planted to the ground. Her face is fierce and glaring at her target, and it is clear that the artist finds this Gorgon beautiful in her monstrosity and bloodlust.

On the last stroke a powerful wind whips through the forest and takes the paper. Hvitserk curses the Anemoi and tries to run after the drawing, but he is not faster than the wind gods and falls behind. He is not willing to stray too far from his camp, for fear that he will lose it in the dark black of the forest at night. Our hero trudges back, and slumps to the ground, disappointed that he will not be able to keep the evidence of his devotion. He falls asleep huddled under his cloak hoping tomorrow will give him better luck.

What Hvitserk doesn’t see is his paper’s journey. It floats gently in the hand of Zephyrus who carries it to where it sticks in the jaws of a goose that is opening its beak wide to squawk at one of the mistresses of the house. Its fearsome feathers are stuck, made of stone, forever in the poise of rage.

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

If you want to read other stuff I write here’s my masterlist

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ @punkrocknpearls​ @solinarimoon​ @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ @southernbe​ @vikingstrash​ @pomegranates-and-blood​

[honestsycrets]

Say Your Piece II: Heart Breaker

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader, hvitserk x ?

❛ type | double triple? shot, mistakes were made au

❛ chp summary | after the reader says she doesn’t want hvitserk; he makes a bad decision. it gets worse from there.

❛  tags | plus size reader, verbal arguments, extreme social anxiety, extreme body insecurity, drinking, hateful words, illustrator hvitserk x writer reader, mention of infidelity, shame, OCs, sexual frustration, blackmail, cheating mentioned, verbal abuse, sexual blackmail, poor communication? it’s more likely than you think. tags to be added.

❛ request | So Hvitserk request (you a asked for it 😂) Remember the Little Lovers event and the self-conscient plus size reader who didn’t want to have sex ?Well I didn’t get the sex lol. I want my Hvitserk to show a woman how her body is enjoyable. Thank you 😊 for @alicedopey

❛ sy’s note | i’ll eventually get you your sex scene, DAMN IT.

He wakes with a blaring headache caused by a stream of fresh morning light against his soft cheek. He pulls his arms around you-- or, what he thought was you, as the moment he does so, he knows it’s wrong. Where soft folds and overflowing breasts were, he finds thin limbs and small breasts.

It’s not your body-- he realizes all at once. The high rise apartment that overlooked the city wasn’t, either. It was the fruit of an accomplished older woman, whose many books hovered on a white shelf beside a white bed. Everything in the room holds the same pure standard. He flings himself from the bed, his naked ass colliding with a nightstand. The items ripple over the surface and settle into new positions. The woman pushes up, dragging the painfully monochrome white fluffy sheet to cover her flat chest. 

“Hvitserk?” 

Erika, in all her sharp-eyed glory, stares right back at him. Vomit spins up his throat, incited by the affection by with her eyes considered him. Hvitserk scrambles over the perfectly plain hardwood floors, upchucking up what’s left of his agitated stomach after his pathetic night out on the town. 

“Hvitserk!” 

Her spindly hand is at his back. Ordinarily, she was a comfort in your absence. That despite her pushing, and pushing, and pushing to get your name off “his” book, she would always be there for him in ways that a lover could not. Author-illustrators make so much more than being an illustrator alone, she reminded him. Her considerate words now feel like measured steps against his relationship. Her touch rips his skin into gooseflesh. Hvitserk works his shoulder away, his knuckles becoming white around the bowl.

“You drank too much last night.” it’s a non-question. Obviously, if he were here, he had. He groans his miserable response into the toilet bowl, wishing he could smother himself in the water, as it would be a better punishment than anything his girlfriend could do to him. “I’ll make you some coffee.” 

Her steps become distant echoes. When he finishes and cleans after himself, he starts his search for his clothes. He picks them from a singular pile, draws them back on, and reaches for his phone. It bleats a miserable eight percent battery life.

“She didn’t call if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ericka stands in a silvery slip; although he’s not sure when she put on some clothes. She hands him his cup of coffee and takes a seat on her “divorce couch”, a plain grey chair that she scammed her ex-husband out of. As she sits there, all long limbs, and purposefully sultry clothes-- the guilt strikes him.

Hvitserk takes a sip of bitter, burnt black coffee. She’s never been a great coffee maker but her heart is in the right place. It wouldn’t feel right to snuff her. After all, he probably spent the night before buried in her cunt. 

“You called me to pick you up at the bar last night. You were so drunk all you wanted to do was lay on my chest,” Ericka pulls a sheer black kimono over her thin collarbones. His eyes fall on her hands. “I told you she’d break your heart. Women like that-- once they get over a certain weight-- they aren’t emotionally available to do anything but eat. It consumes them.” 

“She ain’t like that.”

“If she’s not like that, then why did you have sex with me? Be honest with yourself, Hvitserk. Your needs aren’t met with her. That’s why you needed me.” 

His mouth runs dry. Like he’s been chewing on his regret as if it were paper. He couldn’t remember the night before. It was like a bad memory he never wanted to recover. Hvitserk glances down to his cup as he sinks onto her bed. 

“It was an accident,” he glares at the surface. “I- You know I can’t be with you, right? You’re--” 

“Old?” she asks. He’s never cared about something as simple as that. Twelve years his senior or not, it wasn’t an issue.

“It’s not that. C’mon Erika, you know I don’t give a shit about age. She’s my baby girl.” 

“You’re going to stay with her? A woman like that?” 

“Like what?” Hvitserk sets the coffee on the nightstand as he snaps at her before he could bite it back. He knew what she meant. Erika’s long ranging sigh reminds him of Aslaug. How tenderly her hands would wrap around him even though they were truly tainted with alcohol perfuming off her breath. 

“I’ve been your agent for years Hvitserk. We go through this every time you find a girl. This oen is by far the worst. She doesn’t care about you. Look at all that work you did for her yesterday. The pendant you bought her. The work you’ve put into her books! You even pick up all the food she eats. She won’t go outside of her house and you still expect that she’ll suddenly become this fat trophy wife on your arm.” 

“Just because she’s fat don’t--” 

“It isn’t about the fat, Hvitserk.  How many times does she have to show you, or tell you for you to get the picture through your stupid head, huh? She doesn’t want you! And you have the balls to call me a fucking accident.” 

“Erika--” 

She leaps up from her chair. Hvitserk sucks in a hard breath and tries to find sense through the nonsense, looking through his phone. Erika was right. You hadn’t sent a message. Not in his texts, not on his social media. More egregiously, he spots a new post. Ericka’s hands fold over his, pushing him back to sit on the bed. She slides over his thin hips and takes a seat on his empty lap. It was painfully simple, painfully domestic, and painfully wrong.

“Let me tell you what I’ve learned in forty years,” Erika whispered in his ear. Her thin lips move, gliding like butter in his ear. “If someone doesn’t want you, there’s nothing you can do to change that.” Her fingers comb through his hair, like slimy tendrils. “But I’m here.” 

Hvitserk tips his head nack, gazing at the ceiling. Her palm caresses his scruffy jawline to drag his attention from the ceiling to her soft blue eyes, a painless depth, if only he would listen to her words. Hvitserk shifts her back on the bed, loitering around her waist with a supportive hand on the base of her back.

“I know you care ‘bout me. I just-- need some time, okay?” 

It doesn’t slip him that she’s scowling as he walks out of her home. There was someone he could count upon, when things were difficult, his phone buzzing in his palm reminded him of that. 

“Hey, Ivar.” 

Or, maybe not.

“You fucked her?” Ivar stopped chewing his pastry, ambling his head one way then another, laughing against himself. He took his mug of properly brewed coffee to his lips. Hvitserk regrets agreeing to meet him at the cafe. “What were you thinking sleeping with your agent?”

“I wasn’t thinking! I was drunk--” Hvitserk set his hand to his forehead. He has no appetite as he cycled through what he had done, searching out the moment that he called Erika. He fails to locate anything but quiet sobbing behind the neck of a beer bottle and a distant, squeamish feeling of fingers down his nape. “I think she took advantage of me.” 

Ivar sets down his cup of coffee, picking up a fork and knife as he leaned over the table, lips punctuating each word. 

“Yes, well, I am sure that will go over with your girlfriend well. I’m sorry, I slept with my skinny, well-established agent who has been wanting me to get rid of you. That bitch has been after you for years. What do you think she will do now? She won’t let you go.”

“She understands,” he reflects at the monochrome crowd. His plate is full but has gone cold with his lack of appetite. Normally, this was the place he came with his brother to binge breakfast and muse about women. Ubbe wouldn’t care about his issues: he never had time for anyone but himself. Not really. Ivar scoffed, gazing into the foot traffic flitting by their cafe. 

“Tch, I’m sure she does. She will probably break up with you.” 

He bobbed his head.

“I think she already has.” 

A normal man would come to beg. 

But Hvitserk draws in the deep quiet of the park. With only the barks of dogs, the giggles of children, and the occasional frequency from couples watching movies in the park, it’s a place of solace by the small pond. 

He starts with an outline of Xiao’s small face. It’s a rough outline, budding and ready to be kissed with by watercolours. Soft pinks like petals of peonies droop in his photo. He must have blended this shade wrong. Line after line that he sweeps, he weeps. His phone jingles in his pocket and his heart tightens around his chest like a straight jacket to someone in an insane asylum. He must be going crazy-- if he too can no longer paint.

“Where are you?!” you boom on the other end of the line. Hvitserk fumbles his phone, suckling in a breath. Had Ivar told you? No, his brother wouldn’t. Not Ivar. He was never a gossiper. 

“In-- in the park?” 

“What has gotten into you? You could have at least texted me to tell me you were okay. I was worried sick!” 

You? Worried sick? This wasn’t the you from yesterday. The one that pelted out how selfish he was for craving intimacy. The one that told him that all he wanted was to sexualize you. As if he were some sixty year old pervert with a camera in hand to click a picture of under your beautiful pastel skirts. Hvitserk sets the brushes into his cup of water and sets aside Xiao’s painting to dry.

“Hvitserk!” 

“I’m here,” he blurts out. “I didn’t think you’d care. You didn’t call.” 

“Like I didn’t I call you all night.” 

Something cracks, deep in his belly. With all the days of work he’d done for you and you alone, he forgot himself in the mix. He jerked his phone back, frantically looking at his phone app. No recent calls meant what they meant. When he finds nothing, it only thrusts him into a further rage. 

“Bullshit,” he belts out. “You didn’t. You didn’t care about me last night. You never fuckin’ do.” 

“Hvit--” he turns off his phone. There was a sliver of a moment in which he regrets that on the basis of last night. Maybe you rejected him, but he wasn’t an idiot. A man simply didn’t cheat on his girlfriend because she said no. 

He packs up his bag and heads toward the football field. It’s time to play football.

He smashes Ubbe on the field. If he wasn’t at peace with being an illustrator, maybe he could have been a ballplayer. Flipping the ball from foot to foot with Ubbe on his trailing his tail was fun, but watching him try and miss as he thwacked the ball on its net was even better. Unlike Ubbe’s well-proportioned body, he’s all long limbs and quick feet. Just the right combination to slip out of Ubbe’s grasp. Well, that was, until Ubbe tackled his ass onto the blades of grass, sending the both of them rolling through the grasp.

“Bro, really?!” Hvitserk laughs, dropping back onto the grass. The skid marks on his clothes would be unreal. 

“If I can’t catch you,” Ubbe heaves, digging his hand into his pocket. He finds his phone there, vibrating with messages from Torvi: probably. Hvitserk shoves his arms behind his neck, drawing out breath after ragged breath. 

“Wanna go eat?” 

“Na,” Ubbe shoves himself onto your feet. “Your girl is here.”

His what? Ubbe rushes off. A sinking feeling came over his clammy hands. He opens his mouth to beg him not to go, to take him along with like he used to as a child. He’s terrible at making up and hours ago, he’d hung up on you. His lips press together, soothing himself with the false pretense that-- no, it would be fine. If you didn’t apologize, perhaps neither would he. 

He finds you on the other side of the soccer field, fashioning his favorite sundress. There’s something glamorous about its corset bodice and its draped sleeves that left him breathless. He wills down his terrible arousal, drawn to the pendant he bought you nestled between your large breasts. You wait for him by his things, pulling the rim of a broad pale hat and looking down at beautiful chunky nude heels. 

You’re beautiful and terrifying all in one. He regains himself enough to make his legs solidify from the liquidy mass they were seconds ago. He might feel much like a newborn calf falling over himself to get his things, but perhaps he looked better than he felt. Women like sweaty, stupid men, right?

“What are you doing here?” he picks up his things. “I thought you didn’t like to be seen in public.”

“You hung up on me,” you hold his tablet flush against your dress and offer it out to him. He takes it and secures it back in his bag. “I had to come to find you.” 

“Yeah? I’ll bet.” Hvitserk wills down the painful throbbing behind his joggers, pulling his bag to obscure the pain he was in. The sooner he went home, the sooner he could jerk himself off without the overwhelming guilt of being, as he was, a whore. Why couldn’t he stay mad? He wanted to stay mad! “You look... nice. Never seen you looking so nice. What’s the occasion?” 

“You like it?” You pull out the skirt and stop to do a twirl that he curses himself for stopping for. Normally, his girl wouldn’t even go outside. Who was this? He’s aware of others watching-- the fat girl in a flashy dress. “I wore it for you.”

“Yeah, I do.” He moistens his lips, his voice raspy and thick. “Looks like an angel.” 

“Does that mean you’ll come back home?” You reach out for him. Your soft hands winding around his well-corded arm. He realizes then, the confidence in which you carried yourself masked the desperation in your hands. They trembled over his bicep. “I’ll be good, I promise I won’t yell at you again like that. I wouldn’t even be mad if you-- you found someone else to fuck. I know you-- I know you need it. If you can’t get it from me, I can wait on the side. As long as you’re not in love.”

“Hey,” he softened, settling his hand atop of yours. He stops midstep, turning on his high tops on the sidewalk. He takes your hands and listens waits for your outpouring of emotion. Traffic passes by him. They speak in hushed whispers. “Hey, hey, hey. Baby girl wait-- that’s not -- what are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that but you were pushing and pushing and wouldn’t stop! I didn’t know what to do. I want to have sex with you,” you squeeze his fingertips. “But you don’t know what it’s like to be fat, old virgin.” 

He was trying to listen. He really was. The moment you spoke that word: that v-word, his mind went blank and numb. You’re still talking long after he’s stopped listening. Hvitserk sucks in a breath: it sends him into a flurry, pursuing the bone of your virginity long after you’ve stopped talking.

“What do you--” his lips twitch, drawing in a smile. “--mean a virgin?” 

“I haven’t had sex-- I… I wanted to--” 

His girl-- a virgin. He wants to smile, if not for the knowledge of the other night, waking up in Erika’s itchy sheets. Hvitserk knows that he has to tell you, he only doesn’t know how. You’re talking again. 

“What did you say?” he asks. 

“I want you to do it,” you answer. “Right now. Just forgive me.” 

He about drops, a moistness coming over his mouth that he can’t-- exactly-- help. His palms feel just as hot, sweating as he pulls them free from yours. Clearing his throat, he slips his hand against the small of your back. 

“Na, let’s… let’s take it easy. We’ll talk ‘bout it later.” 

He wants that virginity. 

But logically, oh woe is he, he knows it’s not really right to take someone’s virginity if they’re not all there. You’re not all there because you don’t know of that night. It’s like, consent, right? Bad consent was just jerking your ankle like some Viking and dragging you into bed with him. If he was going to do it, he told himself, you had to know what he’d done. 

It was a slip-up. 

Hvitserk finished another drawing for his new book independent of your input. It was a children’s book about good bodies-- because as he looked at your good body, he was reminded of Ericka’s cruel words. He wanted to do better for lil kids.

“Hvitserk, your phone is ringing,” you said pointedly from across the room where you sat like a madwoman. Your frantic papers sat nestled around a basket of shared chicken he made for lunch. 

“Huh?” Tapping over, he recognizes Erika’s photo, planting a kiss on his cheek on his first big break. She had been the first one to really believe in him. It was a long time ago now, he reminds himself to change that to something more… suitable after last night. He gestures his fingers at you. “Thanks, baby girl.”

He answers the phone. The moment he does, he hears Erika’s flat voice snaking into a hiss. It’s a noise that he hasn’t heard. Not in all his years of having her as his patient agent. 

“You’re with her, aren’t you?” 

“No, I’m uh-- with Ubbe.” He throws you a glance. You tilt your head, he shakes his, and that’s the terrible loneliness of holding a secret. “Erika--” Hvitserk sighs, parting his lips to talk. She shushes him with such severity that he thinks she’s trying to lop his head off, too. 

“Break it off.” 

“What?”

He steps outside and leans against the cold metal door separating the high-rise apartments from, well, the outside world. He expects to see her standing out there. All he finds are the many cars parked on the street and the stillness of movement. It’s too quiet. The whistle of the wind through the street chills him. 

“I know you’re with her. I can tell her for you if you’d like.” 

“No. Don’t--” Hvitserk sighs, searching for the words in the silence. “I don’t think you understand. We worked through it.” 

She laughs something from deep in her belly at him.

“I wasn’t asking. Either you do it— or I’ll make you do it. You obviously don’t know what’s best for yourself. Why else are you fucking around with some--” He collapses on the stairs, cradling the phone to his ear as she goes on. “Don’t think I won’t expose her for what she is. A thief.”

“She’s never-- Why the fuck are you doing this?”

“You told me you would take care of it. Something you’ve failed to do-- I should have known you couldn’t do it. ”

“If this shit is about yesterday--” 

“I’ll give you one more chance to break it off if you come over tonight.” 

“Are you blackmailing me?” There’s a pause on the other line. Then a chuckle. A long winded, painful chuckle. He should have known better. That night-- calling it an accident wasn’t exactly tolerable for a woman like Erika. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could be easily ignored.

“If that’s what I have to do.” 

 He chokes out a sob. Ivar was right. She wasn’t going to let him go.

“Fuckin’-- fuckin’ fine.” 

@punkrocknpearls​ @flowers-in-your-hayr @tephi101 @alicedopey​ @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm @superwolfchild-fan @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

[alicedopey]

The Wallflower

Gorgeous moodboard made by the talented @naaladareia Thanks babe !

Fandom: Vikings

Pairing: Hvitserk x Plus-size reader

Genre: Modern AU, Drama, Angst, Romance

Words: 1742

Warnings: Angst, some self-depreciation (barely)

Summary: The only thing you wish for is to dance...

A/N: Here is my contribution to @youbloodymadgenius​ 1k Celebration. I’ll let you find out which famous line I picked up, it would spoil the plot. This might turn into a multipart series, depends if you like this one or not.

Your boss was a flirt. Well, one of them was, to be exact. When every employee of the food company you were working for had learnt that two young Danish men had bought the firm from your very American boss, brows were raised. What would they make of it?

Two years later, it turned out they had drastically changed it and made it one of the most famous brands of Danish food in the United States. Those different brothers seemed to complete each other and formed an effective duet.

Ivar was very professional, blunt, harsh sometimes but his mind was swirling with ideas and he knew how to deal with all the competitors his company could cross path with.

Hvitserk was…quite the opposite. He was the cook so he was very creative and more easy-going, funny, smiling and very friendly. Sometimes, he was even too friendly; you reminded yourself as you heard a fit of giggles coming from your other female colleagues on the other side of the room where Hvitserk was probably telling one of his silly stories or praising the women with endless compliments.

It would be a lie to pretend that he was not very charming but contrary to most of your colleagues, you did not take the praises coming out of his mouth very seriously. It was just in his nature to flirt with every girl he met and that also included an older and heavier woman like you. In your mind, Hvitserk could not date a woman like you but rather a perfect looking woman who would shine next to him. It was perfectly fine. Your curves were not everyone’s cup of tea but you did not mind because they were yours and you loved them – well, more like learned to love them.

“So…what did you decide to do for your reunion this weekend?”

Your brows furrowed at your closest colleague’s question and your eyes looked away from Hvitserk. “What do you mean? I already told you I was going.”

“Not that.” Lisa scoffed. “Did you find someone to go with?”

“I did not look for anybody. I’m going alone.”

“You can’t do that.” She replied in a categorical tone. “This would be highly humiliating.”

Lisa was known for being overdramatic over many things so you were not surprised she was reacting this way.

“I was single at the time, you know.” You tried to reason patiently with her. “So, it won’t be a surprise for them if that still is the case fifteen years later.”

Her eyes widened. “You are kidding, right?” She exclaimed a little bit too loud for your liking. “You have to…okay, you know what? I will help you find someone. In fact, I think my brother is free this weekend. I can ask him, he wouldn’t mind.”

“No, thank you.” You had already met the man. He was nice and handsome but not very discreet, just like his sister. “Besides, I don’t like the blind date thing.”

Lisa leaned forwards and whispered, “Pay someone then…” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Right. Paying for a man to play your date, way to boost your ego. You knew Lisa meant well but the more she kept suggesting things, the more humiliated you felt. “No.”

She looked at you as if you were too stubborn for your own good. “You know, having a date means you would be able to dance…”

You sighed. She clearly knew which weak spot to strike on. “Lisa…”

“Good morning, ladies!”

The two of you startled at Hvitserk’s voice. “What’s the topic today?”

“Convincing Y/N to bring a date to her high school reunion.” Lisa answered without thinking. She instantly mouthed an “I’m sorry” as Hvitserk looked at you questioningly.

Thankfully, he did not have the time to make any comment as Ivar entered the room. Every employee ran back to work and even Hvitserk left hurriedly to join his brother, which brought a smile to your lips.

                                               ¤    ¤

The rest of the week went in a blur. After her little mishap, Lisa did not insist on the date issue and Hvitserk did not mention anything either. He probably did not care or even remember it for that matter. So, that Friday night, you got dressed with a nice dark blue dress, high heels, called for an Uber and arrived at your high school, ready to have a good time.

The moment you entered the enormous gymnasium of your old high school when the party was taking place, you were brought back to the past. Some of your friends instantly greeted you and you were all so happy to see each other again and share some memories that none of you really lost too much time thinking about your current marital status or your professional situation.

There was a huge buffet to enjoy, the music was a nice reflecting of the past parties you had attended. Everyone enjoyed themselves on the dance floor, especially you.

Dancing was a real joy and a great opportunity to express yourself. When you were dancing, you forgot everything and everyone around you to just focus on the music and how it made you feel free and finally yourself.

Then, slow-dancing time came. This was the moment when you had to get out of the picture and go back to your usual spot, against a pillar or a wall.

Being curvy had its flaws when you were a teenager. You could not say you had suffered from bullying because you had a strong personality and was not afraid to fight back when you needed to. No. The worse part was during the parties. No boy would invite you to dance, even amongst your friends. It looked like friendship had its limits. You thought things could change with time since teenage years were always considered as the hardest ones when you did not fit in completely. You were clearly wrong. You were an adult now and no men wanted to dance with the fat girl. Nothing had changed and nothing would.

You watched the couples on the dance floor with a sting in your chest. It was probably time for you to go home instead of brooding like you usually did.

“Care to dance?” Your eyes turned away from the dancing couples to meet those of the owner’s voice. Your jaw opened slightly when you saw Hvitserk Ragnarsson standing in front of you dressed in a dark suit, his middle length hair tied in a loose bun.

“Come on.” He extended his hand. “Nobody puts baby in a corner.”

You smiled and put your hand in his. Hvitserk led you to the dance floor. He pulled your curvaceous body against his hard one, his hand on the small of your back and the two of you gently swayed to the music. This was completely new to you, it felt so nice. Tears were welling up in your eyes so you closed them for a few seconds. When you opened them back, the green eyes of your boss were looking at you with gentleness and concern.

You smiled. “Why are you here, Mister Ragnarsson?”

“Hvitserk.” He replied. “Why don’t we enjoy the night, first? I promise I will answer all of your questions afterwards.”

You nodded. Hvitserk winked at you.

                                              ¤   ¤

The two of you did enjoy your night. After sharing a few dances, Hvitserk met your friends. He introduced himself as your boyfriend which led you to choke on your drink. Nonetheless, you did not correct him, secretly enjoying the fact that some of your friends were watching you with some obvious jealousy. It was a nice change for once.

At the end of the night, Hvitserk offered to drive you home and you accepted. The ride was silent, awfully silent but you did not wish to break this silence. You felt almost afraid to ask him why he was here because you did not want to discover this was out of pity.

Almost too soon, he parked in front of your little house and turned off the engine. You knew there was no other chance to escape explanation time.

“You did not have to do it, you know.” You finally said, your eyed fixed on the windshield. “As I said to Lisa, I don’t mind going alone. I certainly do not need…”

“Pity?”

This made you look at him. “Exactly.”

“I don’t do the pity thing, I only do what I want to do. And I can assure you I wanted to be with you tonight…I just wish you would have asked me.”

You felt a little bit comforted at his words but choose not to read too much into them. “Thank you, then. I had a great night.”

“I did too. Would do it again whenever you want to.”

Once again, you chose to ignore any deeper meaning behind his words and simply smiled at him. He smiled back.

“So…can I get a good night kiss?”

You burst out laughing at this. Now, that was more like Hvitserk. You chuckled, leaned in and kissed his cheek. His facial hair tickled your lips. Then you realized what you had just done, meaning pecking your boss on the cheek and abruptly straightened up. Heat was creeping up your neck and ears. Hvitserk was looking at you with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

“I did not know you had watched Dirty Dancing.” You blurted out to embarrass him. He chuckled though.

“I never did. I heard it from one of the ladies at the office. Guess I spend too much time in marketing.”

He winked and you felt yourself blushing again although this time, you smiled at him.

“Good night, Hvitserk.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You got out of the car, walked to your front door, opened it then closed it behind you without even looking back at him once. You did not wish to show him he had charmed you even more, particularly because you were convinced he was not interested in you at all.

But Hvitserk’s eyes never left your body, enjoying its every curve until you had disappeared behind your closed door. Then he started his car and left, a satisfied smile lingering on his lips.

Tagging (please tell me if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia​ @tephi101​ @gearhead66​ @therealcalicali​ @ivarswickedqueen​ @akamaiden​ @peaceisadirtyword​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ @mblaqgi​ @captstefanbrandt​

[littlemessyjessi]

Roommates: Vikings Headcanons: Hvitserk

Hvitserk Headcanons, Vikings Headcanons  Hvitserk x reader , Vikings x reader  x Reader: PS Reader, Plus Size Reader 

Imagine being roommates with Hvitserk....

Weirdest hours on the fucking planet

might be home for 3 am to 7 am 

might be home a full week and then gone for two weeks

always pays his rent on time

appreciates your calendar to remind him

honestly- so messy

However most of it is contained in his room

Shit at housework

However, volunteered to hire a maid

You tried to go 1/2 with him on it but he refused

“It’s my mess.  I’ll pay for it.  Consider it payback for dealing with me when I’m shitfaced.” 

Less of a big parties person but does love smaller gatherings

Always invites you

Stoked when you can be there

Bummed when you can’t

He hides it though and tries to play it off

Used to bring girls in all the time

Yes he was vying for attention

No it did not work

He saw that him doing that put him in the friend zone faster that ever so he cut that shit right off. 

Human. garbage, disposal.

Will literally eat anything

No problem with leftovers or prefrozen meals 

Loves your cooking

Or just your taste in take out

Got you a crockpot for Christmas and a gift card to the German deli three towns over

Best. investment. ever. 

Always texts when he’s coming home so you don’t panic

Less about you actually worrying for him

even though his heart swells when you tell him that you do

You know Hvitserk is MORE than capable of handling himself

It’s more about the fact that if you hear something, you fucking panic

You hit first, ask questions later.

you’ve nearly rattled his brains with a baseball bat when he forgot his key and came through the window

He just sends a text now. 

Much easier 

You’ll tell him you’ll unlock the door and leave a light on for him

One of the reasons he loves you so much

So used to his brothers that you don’t even care

there’s usually one of them crashing on the couch

This is partly because they’re a bunch of wild heathens 

partly because Hvitz just feels better about it when he has to be away if there’s something there with you

He knows your capable

You’re a strong, independent blah blah blah

He gets it

But he just would rather it be this way instead

You buy the groceries and he just gives you money because your recipes are awesome

He always looks forward to seeing what you write on the marker board for this weeks meal plan

HOWEVER

He always goes and buys a fuck ton of junk food

You always ask him about it and tell him that you can redo the grocery budget

He refuses again claiming- “It was just an impulse buy.” 

He’s a snuggler

especially during movies

There’s no way he’s not gonna have the blanket over the two of you

Unless you don’t want it

Hvitz is a lover- not a creep

If someone tries to hurt you? 

Game. Over. 

Hvitz has nearly gone to jail because some asshole got to handsy when you left for a date.  You told the dick no and he was gonna just go ahead anyway.  

Hvits fucking flipped. 

Total. Berserker. Mode. 

Homeboy was in a rage and that date would’ve pressed charges...if he wasn’t so terrified

He’ll never admit but he honestly just loves taking care of you

Loves the feeling of being needed

You don’t need him and he knows that but he just likes doing things for you

Honestly- he really doesn’t even need or have to do the roommate thing

His family has a huge estate and he’s loaded

But that’s just Hvitz 

FYI- you’re not dating

But boy oh boy...

He wants to be

Hello darlings! I hope you enjoyed this little Hvitz headcanons! 

If you wanna see more of my content just check out my blogs! @littlemessyjessi is the main blog full of fandom fictions, imagines, headcanons and sickeningly sweet fluff! Yeah, I know, lol. Barf.  But hey, I like it. @witchyweirdness is the magical blog full of witchy content And last but not least !   @monsterbaesbymamakennysaurus is my monster blog full of all kinds of monster related content! So I hope to see you there! Love, Kenny

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Love, Kenny

[riverkloss]

☆MASTERLIST☆

Chat with me here or ao3 at HemlockGrover

Love at First Sight

Dark Hvits! Featuring Ivar! Plus-sized Reader

Hvitserk Lothbrok falls into a Love at First Sight in a brief meeting of a curvaceous woman he sees in a coffee shop and decides to pursue her with his younger brother Ivar.

☆ Chapter ONE

☆ Chapter TWO

☆ Chapter THREE

Hero & Me

Story entry for the new take of fairy tales hosted by deans-ch-ch-cherrypie My story based of Hansel and Gretel.

☆ HERO (Hvitserk and Oc)

Victor's & Vikings

A Story entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie #cherry pie’s hot fic summer challenge!

Hvitserk Lothbrok and a curvaceous plus-sized heroine battle against eachother with a arcade game in the the late 80s but they have no clue who the other person is.

☆ 1989. (Hvitserk Lothbrok and Oc)

☆Moodboards & Gifts☆

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (AU!) •Hvitserk Lothbrok and Marcus Lopez

The Fault in Our Stars (AU!) •Hvitserk Lothbrok

No Other Reason Than To Love (For @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie) check her story here.

Love at First Sight (Created by @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for me)

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Be My Night And My Day - Part 2

Summary: Hvitserk has been your best friend since childhood, the one you can always rely on. So when you start doubting your current relationship with Sihtric, Hvitserk kindly offers to help you out….but the consequences are never what you expected. 

Pairing- Sihtric x Plus Size!Reader & Hvitserk x Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: Angst, tears, soft boys

Words: 3k

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @dini73 @flowers-in-your-hayr​ (lemme know if you want to be added or deleted)

Catch up with Part 1

Sunlight streamed through the window in your home, warming your skin, as you tended to the few herb pots on the window sill. A pleased grin resided on your face as you took in how the plants were thriving. They had been a gift from Queen Aslaug for your last name day. You could not wait to tell her how alive and vibrant they were….unlike your prior attempts. 

 At the sound of the door opening, you looked over your shoulder to see Sihtric come in. You smiled at him, ready to make a quip about him getting off early from training. The tease died on your tongue when you really took in his appearance. His shoulders were hunched over, like he carried the weight of the world there. Each movement, each step, was slow and deliberate as if moving through a fog. Even the couple warrior braids on one side of his head were thoroughly disheveled. You wondered what had caused him to run his hand over them so aggressively and frequently. Yet it was the frown that marred his handsome face and the distant look in his dark eyes that caused a concerned churning in your gut.  

 "Sihtric, what's wrong?" You fully turned around, dusting the little bit of dirt off your fingers. 

 Carefully, he unhooked his sword belt, moving methodically, and laid it on the table with that far off glaze still over his eyes. His soft lips were pressed together in a thin line. It was not until he began walking in your direction that he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His arms wrapped around you, pulling your full frame against him. You immediately placed your arms around his neck, laying your head on his chest. Beneath your ear, you could hear his unsteady heartbeat and his shallow breathing. Internally, you attempted to quell your own fear, knowing Sihtric needed comfort right now, for whatever had caused his distress. This was the first time you had ever seen him act this way, and truthfully, it frightened you. 

 You started to massage the back of his neck with your hand, lightly squeezing and rubbing it in a way you knew soothed him. In response, his arms tightened around you, somehow drawing you even closer as if he wanted to meld your bodies into one. His head rested on yours, and for a moment you thought you heard a sniffle but you were uncertain. 

 A handful of minutes passed before you decided to break the silence. "Sihtric? What happened?"

 "I'm going to ask you a question…." he whispered, "....and I need you to answer honestly."

 "Of course."

 "Did Hvitserk and you have sex recently?"

 Immediately, you felt as if you had plunged into a frozen lake. Ice filled your veins, even as you tensed. It had been two days since Hvitserk and you slept together, and you had truly hoped that the blond prince had taken to heart your begging for him not to say anything to Sihtric. Guilt had clawed away continuously at your mind ever since Hvitserk walked out of your home, determined to find your man. But that night when Sihtric returned from guard duty, a tired smile on his face and a lingering kiss to your lips, you knew Hvitserk had not found him. So you had hoped, and prayed, that this would all blow over somehow. 

 Yet the truth was, a Pandora's box had been awakened in you. For even now, you still thought of Hvitserk in your bed, confessing his devotion to you. And you desperately wanted to make love to him again. 

 "So, he was telling the truth…." Sihtric stated blandly. His arms unwound from around your waist, then grabbed yours from around his neck and dropped them like they had physically burned him. Without another word, he stepped back away from you, creating distance that felt so much more than just physical. 

 Your heart shattered like broken pottery at your feet with the utter look of betrayal on his face. "Please, lemme ex‐‐" 

 He held his hand up, cutting you off. Your mouth audibly snapped shut. Silently, you watched him take several shallow breaths, hands on his hips, as if trying to internalize his anger and pain, to make sure he did not lash out at you. 

 At this moment though, you wish he would. Anything would be better than watching him attempt to hide his pain, his heart tearing in two. You wish he would scream at you. But this was Sihtric. He was too good, too kind, too caring to lash out at you. It only wrecked your heart even more. 

 "Sihtric, please, it was--" 

 "I trusted you." He cut you off again. A tear slid down his cheek before he hastily wiped it away. "I thought….I thought you were happy with me. I know we haven't known each other long but….I guess I should have expected this."

 "What?"

 "I have seen the way you and Hvitserk look at each other. You always explained it away as being best friends, but I know….in my gut I knew there was more to it. But I trusted you. You're the only woman besides my mother I've ever trusted….and cared for."

 Tears streamed down your cheeks and dripped onto your ample chest, a physical manifestation of the river of anguish coursing through you. "I am happy with you."

 "Then why?! I don't understand!"

 "Because….ugh, it seems so stupid now."

 "Am I not enough for you? I know he's a prince and I'm only a bastard but you said that didn't matter. Has that changed?" He took another step back, furthering the void growing between you two. 

 You wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the gap, to just touch him and hope he felt your sorrow. But the crestfallen look on his face, the dejection in his dark eyes stayed your hand. "No, I promise." You pleaded, hoping he could hear the truth in your words. "I don't care that you're a bastard."

 "Then why?!" He demanded, another tear rolling down his cheek. "Why would you do that? To me? To us?!"

 "Because I thought you were going to leave me!" You cried out. There it was. The painful truth. You never expected him to truly stay. But once you got a taste of him, knew what it was like to be cherished….you never wanted to let him go. 

 His eyes widened and mouth opened slightly as he took in your words. "What?" 

 This time it was you who stepped away. You turned your back on him, your stomach churning and for a moment you worried you might vomit. "I've seen you talking lately more with the shieldmaidens, laughing with them, training with them…."

 "So, it is jealousy? You decided to get back at me by letting Hvitserk fuck you?" He accused. 

 "No!" You whipped back around, frustration and sorrow creating an explosive concoction in your heart. "Gods! That's not…."

 "What is it then?"

 "I figured you were talking to them because you disliked having sex with me and were looking for someone….new. Someone who would be more interesting and knowledgeable and….and prettier. Just, someone not like me."

 This time he looked utterly destroyed after your explanation. "What?"

 "Why else would you be leaving immediately after we have sex? Or….or stay out so late? I just thought I was becoming boring to you….which I understand…."

 "And Hvitserk?"

 You shrugged. "He offered to help try and boost my confidence….in the bedroom….hopefully that would make you want to stay. I didn't know he had….feelings until after."

 He scrubbed his hands over his face as he heaved a deep sigh. Turning, he placed his hands on the back of a nearby chair as if to ground himself.

 "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sihtric." You mumbled through your tears, as you pressed a hand to your mouth, desperately trying to suppress the sobs rising up in your throat. "Please just….I'm so sorry."

 He shook his head, his voice morose. To your surprise, he chuckled darkly before speaking again. "No, I'm sorry. It's my fault. It's all my fault."

 "What? No…." 

 He turned around, a wetness on his cheeks that had not been there prior. "I should have told you….I just…." His voice trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

 "Sihtric? What? Told me what?"

 "I love you!" He blurted out. 

 All the air vanished from your home. Your lungs struggled to expand, leaving your mouth gaping open. A kick to the chest from a horse would have been less painful than his admission. You could only stare at him as his declaration bounced around in your brain but refused to settle. "You….you do?"

 Slowly he walked over and tenderly held your hands in his, the battle-hardened calluses a contradiction from your own soft hands. Those dark eyes you loved stayed focused on your clasped hands as he spoke softly. "I know we haven't been together long….but I've known it for a while. You're special. Before you I never wanted to open up, trust was something that was hard. A quick fuck was easy, but to linger, to find myself wanting to hold you in my arms all night, to see your sleepy, sated face in the morning light. That was new. And it scared me. Somehow you changed all that. The more time we spent together, the more I hated to be away from you. That's how I knew….that's how I knew I loved you."

 "Why did you never say anything?"

 He chuckled, thumbs rubbing on the back of your hands. "I almost did. Gods, so many times. After we'd make love. Sometimes in the morning, seeing you laying in our bed. When I'd come back from training or guard duty and you'd greet me with that sweet smile on your face and a kiss….so many times I had to bite my tongue to keep the words from spilling forth."

 Everything clicked in that moment. And if it was possible for your heart to shatter even more, yours surely had. "That's why you would leave….it wasn't because you didn't like me…."

 "Never."

 "Sihtric, I love you too." You choked out amidst a sob. "I wish you had said something."

 "I couldn't."

 "Why not?"

 Finally, he raised his eyes to meet yours, a smile full of hopelessness on his lips. "Because I knew Hvitserk was in love with you, just as much as you're in love with him."

 "But…."

 "I know you always said you're best friends, but it's obvious to anyone who looks past the facade. There was always more underneath. The way you two gravitate to each other, the lingering looks and touches, the comfortability there….I always figured I was just someone to pass the time with, until the two of you finally confessed to one another. I just never expected it would be my fault that it'd finally happen."

 "Oh Sihtric, I'm so sorry." You cried, no longer able to restrain your sobs. Sihtric pulled you against him, letting you bury your head against his broad chest as you bled out your heartache. With the way his chest rose and fell rapidly and the wetness against your hair, you knew he was silently crying with you. For the miscommunication. For the betrayal. For all the unspoken hopes and dreams both of you had carried, now trampled and laying broken at your feet. 

 After some time, when both of your tears subsided, you continued to cling to one another like that would somehow stem the outpouring of your bleeding hearts. 

 The dark-haired Viking broke the silence tainted with misery. "He said he wanted to fight me. For you. Over you. How he can't live without you now….and will do anything to have you."

 "Will you?" You cautiously asked, face still pressed to his wet tunic. "Will you fight him?"

 "Do you want me too?" 

 You lifted your head, wanting to see his face as you answered. "I don't want you to fight. Either one of you. I'm not….I'm not worth it."

 "You're worth everything." He replied, cupping your cheek so tenderly it caused a fresh wave of tears to fill your eyes. 

 "Sihtric….please don't. I couldn't bear it if you got hurt….either one of you."

 "Then you need to decide."

 Your heart stuttered in your chest, your breath catching. "What do you mean?"

 "Y/n, my love…." He rubbed his thumb over your cheek, collecting the evidence of your sorrow. "You have to choose one of us."

 You shook your head. "I don't….I can't….Sihtric."

 His thumb continued to run along your cheek as he gazed at you, a swirl of emotions in his eyes that pierced you like an arrow. After a long moment, he nodded and dropped his hand. "I'll leave. Let you think in peace. Just know….whatever your decision, I'll respect it." 

 "Sihtric…." You begged, but what more could you say?

 After pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, he released you from his strong arms. He stared at you helplessly, further shredding any remnants of your heart left. With that, he quickly turned and walked away, snatching his sword belt off the table, not even bothering to take the time to put it on before he was out the door. 

 Soon as the door softly closed behind him, you dropped to the ground with soul-wracking sobs. 

 It was selfish, you knew. There were two handsome, perfect men both asking for your devotion, both desiring you, both wanting you to choose them over the other. How could you possibly choose? You wanted them both. Needed them both. It was so selfish. 

 But it was the gods-forsaken truth. 

 ***** 

 You cried yourself to sleep that night. 

 And the next night, when Sihtric did not return home. 

 Hvitserk found you the next morning, still lying in bed. Your throat was hoarse from all your crying and your eyes felt permanently dry and red-rimmed. Curled under your furs in your thin shift, the desire to leave your warm nest was nonexistent. Food and drink had barely passed your lips. You knew it was all your own fault. Yet you wallowed in your misery, unable to escape its tenacious pull. Your thoughts swirled like a cyclone in your mind, a force of destruction you could not flee from. No matter how much you wanted to.  

 For how could you choose one over the other? 

 Without a word, he crawled into the bed with you, tucking your body against his in a warm embrace. Without a second thought you melted against him, desperate for the safe haven he provided in the stormy seas of your mind. Your full figure snuggled against his lean form in a way that was effortless, like your bodies were made for this embrace. Exhausted from your lack of sleep and excessive crying, it did not take long for you to drift in and out of sleep, sniffling pathetically when awake. He never commented on your deplorable state of being, just held you tight, an anchor in your waves. 

 "My sweet," Hvitserk kissed the top of your head as he soothingly ran a hand up and down your back, "don't cry. The Norns will decide."

 "Please don't fight him, please Hvitserk. I couldn't take it if either of you were injured."

 "Hmmm….what did he say?"

 You sniffled pathetically, throat raw as you spoke. "He said I had to choose."

 "And?" He encouraged quietly. 

 "Oh, Serk, I'm so selfish." You lamented, gripping the front of his tunic, now ruined by your tears. "Thor strike me down! I can't. I can't choose. I love you both. Gods, I'm so selfish."

 This would be the reason for him to walk away. You were sure of it. Even after all of your years of friendship, you were unable to choose him over your lover, someone you had only known for two years. Why would the blond prince stay? There were plenty of women who would willingly fill his bed. Why would he waste his time on someone like you?

 And Sihtric. Someone who clearly gave you their all- their trust, their love, their hopes and dreams. Surely, he could easily find someone new. Someone better than you. Why would he fight for you?

 How selfish were you to hurt both of these men you loved….and for some reason they loved you too. 

 Suddenly, you felt him nuzzle your hair. "You love me?" He whispered. 

 "Yes."

 He hummed, a hand drawing random patterns on your back as if in thought. "And you love him?"

 "Yes." You choked out, a fresh wave of remorse and self-loathing crashing over you. 

 Gently, he tipped your face up to draw you into a kiss. A soft press of mouths, urging you to respond, to sink into the comfort he so willingly offered. You clung to him as your lips moved in tandem, seeking the momentarily solace provided. 

 You pulled back eventually, opening your eyes to meet his green orbs. "Serk?"

 "It'll all work out, beautiful. You'll see." He assured with a smile, drawing you back to his sweet lips. 

 Even with his confident words, you were left unsure if you could believe him. 

 Or if your fractured heart could even try. 

Part 3

[quantumlocked310]

In the Bed of Love - Chapter 2

Moodboard by the incredible @flowers-in-your-hayr!!

It’s Chapter 2! This one switches POV to Hvitty’s favorite Gorgon.

Summary: Our intrepid Hero Hvitserk, burdened with glorious purpose to prove his godhood, takes the epic journey to slaughter the Gorgons, but stumbles in love along the way.

Warnings (so far): greek mythology inaccuracies, slow burn 

Ratings + Word Count: [General - 1,765w]

Series Masterlist (contains extra notes about Greek words and some of the Gods mentioned) Now with more Gods!

Extra Relevant Note: Malakas means Asshole in Greek (according to Google Translate)

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

The early dawn is quiet, with dew glistening off the statues in the garden, and you’re the first awake in the house. As usual you walk quietly to the dresser where you get the silk robe gifted to you from Dionysus. Enrobed you walk down to the kitchen where you take a small cup of wine and yesterday’s bread out to the garden for breakfast.

There are a few stumps scattered amongst the statues, and you sit on the one closest to one of your favorite statues. Malakas the goose, who thought himself brave one day as he bit the ankles of your sister, Sten. You and Marmor had collapsed together laughing at the swiftest of you being chased at length by the ornery goose. Sten had yelled and screamed at it, to no avail, before finally giving in and glaring it to stone, and proclaiming his name Malakas.

“Good morning, friend.” You greet the goose and pat it on the head, but notice there’s something different about him today. Inside its mouth is a piece of paper, slightly crumpled, with ink on it. You look at it puzzled, then look around the garden a little, but see no one. After dipping your bread in the wine and taking a bite, you put the cup on the stump and grab the paper. Only to immediately start coughing.

It’s a crude drawing of you standing in offense with your shield. Clearly, the artist has no skill, but it’s obvious the figure is yours both in size and you’re the only one of your sisters who can carry a shield as big as this one. You’re a little flattered, and a little suspicious. The gorgons train together every evening, but this paper wasn’t in the goose’s mouth yesterday.

After finishing the bread and wine, while staring at the drawing, a million thoughts run through your head. Foremost concern for your security, and who could be watching. The gorgons were fearsome creatures, and that attracted idiots who wished to prove themselves against a mighty foe. Hence the many armored statues around you. Then curiosity, and why this person would focus on you. Once your foes reached your gates, they usually focussed on the muscular strength of Marmor, or the svelt speed of Sten, not the chunky bulk of your body made for sturdy defence. It was useful in battle, being underestimated. But it was never an advantage for love.

Sten didn’t care about copulation or partnership, and Marmor had a sometimes-something going on with Haphaestus. You loved your sisters, and you loved your life in the Oikos, but there were days when you wanted what Aphrodite and Eros talked about or what you saw at gatherings with Dionysus. Pleasures within and beyond your dreams were always just out of reach, because you were a gorgon, a monster. The risk of loving you was too great.

Why would anyone find you beautiful enough to put on paper?

The feelings well up inside you, and burst. You crumple the drawing in your fist, a few tears escaping your eyes, and immediately regret what you’ve done. Slowly you stand and smooth the paper back out, then go back inside to place it in the drawer of your bedside table.

You put on your clothes for the day, then put on a chestplate and greaves. It’s decided, you will check the perimeter and see if you can find whoever is spying on the Oikos. On the way out you run into Sten who is weaving in the inner garden.

“I’m doing a perimeter check.”

“Would you like company?” Sten responds absentmindedly.

“I’ll be okay. Keep half an ear out in case another one of Philoctetes’ useless heroes is lurking about.”

“I dunno. The last one was cute. Maybe it’s time we had a mortal as a pet.”

You roll your eyes and counter, “I’ll be sure to mention that if I find one. I’m sure they would be willing to live under threat of getting chopped into tiny bits and fed to our snakes.”

Sten turns her head and raises an eyebrow, “You might be surprised.”

You scoff and turn to go, “I’m never surprised anymore.”

As you walk through the garden to the north side of the Oikos, you try to shake off this strange mood that the drawing has put you in. The edge of the cliff is your first stop, and you center yourself listening to the rushing waters of the Styx below. You see Charon in his ferry and raise a hand. As usual you get the most minute nod in return, and you make your way east along the forest border, taking light steps as Artemis taught you, and tuning into your snakes scenting the air.

Over halfway done, and you haven’t found anything of note. A few of the traps Sten maintains have caught small game, and you cut some of the excess string to tie them together and drape the catch over your shoulders before resetting the traps.

On the last leg of your check your snakes perk up. They sway further West and you follow, keeping your light hunting step, and making sure to draw your sword. You go further into the forest until you can no longer see the bright signal of the Oikos, and then you find it. There is a patch of disturbed leaves and earth where a small fire had been. The ashes are almost completely brushed away, and the leaves spread over to make it blend into the ground. If you did not have your snakes to guide you to the scent you would not have found it. Whoever had camped here knew how to cover their tracks.

Unfortunately, your snakes couldn’t help you track any further. They knew if something was prey, or different, but they didn’t have the skills of hunting dogs. Once you found the spot they had scented, they would not know where to track from there, and your meticulous circles around the ashes yielded no more results.

You huff to yourself and when you finally stop, your stomach gives a mighty growel and you observe the sky. You’ve missed the mid-day meal, and it was past time to start daily training. Marmor is going to be insufferable. In your haste to sate your hunger and get to training you neglect the last leg of the perimeter, much to the luck of the prowling Hvitserk who had no idea how close he came to being discovered.

When you reach the edge of the forest there’s a twang and a zing, and you twist behind the nearest tree, shield on your back, pressed against the bark. You watch the arrow dig into the wood of the tree in front of you.

“What the fuck, Sten?” You shout.

“You’re late!” Replies Marmor.

You groan to yourself then shrug the shield off your back and use its shiny metal to see where your sisters are. Slowly, you pull off your catch for dinner from around your neck, and get ready to throw them at your sisters. Raising your shield in front of your body to deflect Sten’s arrows, you launch the strung together animals over your barrier, then shove forward to put your whole weight behind your shield, in hopes that you will shock Marmor and throw her off her feet.

It works. Marmor’s annoyance has her getting thrown off briefly, and the training session really begins. You block and parry, attacking when you can, but mainly trying to cover your open spots when Sten shoots arrows toward you. You’re late, so they’re both going harder on only you.

But your head isn’t in it. The moves are harder to come into your mind than usual, your footwork not as instinctive as yesterday. An off day all because of some faceless enemy stalking in the trees. Who are you kidding, it could just be a traveller. But the way the ashes were buried has you nervous.

And the drawing. Marmor’s sword clangs against your shield just in time. How could you forget? Were they connected? Could you get away with telling your sisters about the perimeter check but not the drawing? You didn’t think so. Your gut is screaming that they’re connected.

But now your gut is screaming, because Marmor kicked you.

“Fuck you!”

“Focus up! What if an idiot hero comes here? You’re not going to win fighting them like this.”

“Oh. My. God. I know!” Your snakes start hissing as they pick up on your anger, and you keep hacking and slashing toward your sister, trying to disarm her even though you know it won’t get you anywhere.

All you want to do is stop and think for a few minutes. Plan your next moves. Figure out who is watching you and why. And why would they draw you? That’s the part that’s gnawing at you the most. There’s a weird fluttery feeling in your chest and you absolutely hate it.

You use your anger to back up your power. Attacking furiously where you would usually stay back and block. You’re reckless and Marmor gets in a few close calls with her sword. You’re trying to block a particularly vicious swing of the sword when you hear Sten call your name, the duck seems to happen in slow motion where you watch the arrow fly just past your brow, and feel the sting of a sword on your thigh. Marmor has pulled her sword down across the top of your shield and you hadn’t pulled your leg back in time.

“First blood!” Sten yells, and Marmor pulls up and stops, only looking a little apologetic.

The wound is just a scratch for you. It stings, and will heal in a few days, but first blood stops the fight.

You rest the edge of your shield on the ground and lean on it just slightly, staring at your sisters. “We have to talk. Inside. It’s not safe out here in sight of the woods.”

“You found something.” Sten remarks. You glare at her. If you’re being watched, you definitely don’t want to be heard.

“Then let’s go eat. You must be hungry, Y/N. You’ve been out all day.” Marmor says, her eyes narrowing and trying to covertly scan the treeline. She walks over and grabs the game you had thrown as a distraction earlier.

Together, you walk back to the Oikos. Quiet and a little sullen. Your sisters don’t like off days any more than you do, and they are anxious to hear what you’ve found.

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

If you want to read other stuff I write here’s my masterlist

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @solinarimoon @artemiseamoon @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @southernbe @vikingstrash @ritual-unions-gotme @pomegranates-and-blood @mrsalwayswrite @jadelynlace​

[alicedopey]

Jealous, you say ?

Fandom: Vikings

Words: 2674

Genre: Smut, Modern AU

Warning: Spanking, Domination, Smut

Pairing: Modern Hvitserk / Plus Size Reader

Summary: Hvitserk is always flirting so you decide to do the same. He doesn’t like it.

A/N: So this is written for @flowers-in-your-hayr big day. Happy birthday, Gabi! This is a surprise for you that you wonderful friend @maggiescarborough planned for you. Hope you will enjoy !

Parties. Hvitserk and his family loved parties. They could not live without it so there was always an excuse to make one. Birthdays, promotions, engagements, weddings even divorces! This time, it was for a professional reason. Ragnar had just sealed a deal with another company. He wanted to celebrate…and show off.

So, Aslaug had outdone herself again. She was the greatest at planning parties and she always was the perfect host. No one could guess the troubles she was getting through with her husband or the tensions that existed between her sons. You had no idea how she could cope with all of this mess, especially watching her husband flirt with everything who was wearing a skirt. Hvitserk did it a lot and it unnerved you.

“They are flirting with me, babe!” He would answer with a sheepish smile. “What am I supposed to do? You know you are the only one I love!”

He was right. It has taken some time to sink in it was crystal clear that he was deeply in love with you. At first, you had some doubts but the way he looked at you made you feel like a Queen.

Hvitserk was greedy in every way. He was feasting on your body the same way he was enjoying food. He was voracious and he worshipped your body and its every curve that he called delectable. Still, seeing him flirting with every woman (ex or not) was infuriating to say the least.

“Need some company?” A hoarse voice asked you.

You turned around and smiled. “It would be nice, Mr…?”

“Finehair. Harald Finehair.”

Yes, you had heard of him. He was the man Ragnar had just made a deal with. You extended a hand for him to shake but he caught between his fingers instead and put a light kiss on your knuckles. Now, that was charming.

“I’m Y/N, Hvitserk’s girlfriend.”

He raised an eyebrow. “He is leaving you here all alone? What a fool he is!” He added with a crooked smile.

“Why? I am big, tough girl who is able to defend herself.” You said innocently, battling your eyelashes.

A deep chuckle slipped from his lips. “What I meant is every man can sweep you away easily.”

Oh. You were definitely not used to that. Men usually did not pay attention to you, even more when they learnt you were one of the Ragnarssons’ girl. Harald Finehair did not seem to care and you had to admit that it felt nice and flattering. Flirting with him would not do anything bad since Hvitser liked to do it so much.

“You think men would like to sweep me away?”

He stroked your hand he still had not let go of. “I know I would.”

You blushed under the compliment. “Well...how about a dance for a start?”

He nodded and took you to the dance floor. Your bodies swayed against each other to the sound of the music. His dance moves were smooth and gentle. He was a good dancer so you let yourself being guided with pleasure.

After the dance, he gently kissed your hand again and stepped away from you to join his brother in the crowd.

Somebody cleared his throat behind you. “Having fun?”

Ivar was smirking at you in the most devilish way. He did not scare you at all though. You knew the soft man behind those evil smiles and glaring eyes. So, you just rolled your eyes at him.

“Yes, I am Ivar. It’s called dancing and I have to admit Harald Finehair is a charming partner.”

His smirk grew wider at your words. “Very charming indeed.”

“What do you want Ivar?”

“Me?” He asked, pointing at his chest innocently. “Nothing, my dear Y/N. Absolutely nothing…but maybe Hvitserk would have a few things to say to you.”

You frowned and turned your eyes around the room until you found Hvitserk’s ones. His green eyes were throwing daggers at you. Surprised, you went to join him.

“What were you doing?” Hvitserk asked between his teeth as soon as you reached him.

“Dancing, Hvitserk.” What was wrong with the Ragnarssons tonight? “There is nothing wrong with that, is it?”

“Harald Finehair is best known for taking women that aren’t his.”

It was clearly what he had tried to do but you did not a think for a second Hvitserk would believe he was a threat.

“It was just a dance, Hvitserk. Really, I don’t see….” You looked at him warily. “Wait, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“This has nothing to do with jealousy and it was not just a dance, believe me.” He grabbed your wrist. “Let’s go home.”

“What? No, this is ridiculous.” You tried to let him go but his grip tightened and he leaned over you to whisper in your ear. “I said, let’s go home.”

You shivered as his breath tickled your skin. He tugged on your wrist and you obediently followed. On your way out, you noticed Ivar who was waving cheekily at you. You gritted your teeth. Never cause a scene was the family motto. Aslaug would kill you if your ruined one of her parties, so you just glared back at Ivar and promised yourself to kick his ass when you would see him again.

The trip back to your shared apartment was silent, deadly silent. You could tell Hvitserk was still by the way he was driving and because he was clearly refraining himself from touching you. There was no car ride without a hand on your knee- or thigh, or a sweet caress on your cheek.

You did not understand how he could be jealous of something he did all the time. You should be angry, not him. In fact, you were angry.

When the car finally came to a stop in the parking lot, you got out of the car and went to leave but Hvitserk caught your arm before you could go anywhere else. He kept his hand on you as you walked to your place. Once home, you tried to make him let go but he tugged on your arm and pinned you to the wall.

“Hvitserk!” Where was this sudden caveman behavior coming from? “What is wrong with you? I did not fuck the man on the dance floor. It was just a dance, damn it!”

His eyes darkened. “Harald is the worst. I told you it never is just a dance with him.”

Now you were getting irritated. “So, what? You don’t trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you.”

“You are jealous, then.”

“I am not jealous! This is not the problem, here.” He stepped forward so that your bodies were almost glued together. “I don’t want him to touch you, I don’t want any man to touch you or flirt with you, and I certainly don’t want you to flirt with them either.”

“You flirt with every girl you cross path with!” You answered harshly. “How come you get the right to have fun but I don’t, huh?”

You tried to push him away. He caught your hands between his fingers and pressed himself against your core. You felt his arousal; your knees instantly became jelly.

“I believe you don’t understand what it means to be mine.” His lips caressed the shell of your ear as he whispered into it.

“When I say no flirting, it means no flirting. When I say no touching, it means no touching. Do you understand?”

You nodded in spite of yourself. Hvitserk had never been that possessive with you before and, although some part of you wanted to smack him, you liked it. It was arousing, very arousing.

“Why don’t you show me?” You whispered.

Hvitserk’s eyes met yours. Your tongue got out of your mouth to tease his thin lips. He groaned.

“Show me what it means to be yours. Fuck me hard and make me cry out your name. Show me who is in charge.”

His lips crashed upon yours, bruising them in the process. You exchanged a feverish kiss, full of teeth and tongues. You whined as he pulled on your hair to break the kiss and make you look at him.

“You’re sure, babe? Because this is not going to be some sweet love making.”

You heart melt at his sudden worriedness. You could read in his eyes that he did not want to hurt you since that was not the type of sex the two of you were used to. At the beginning of your relationship, you had explained to him how uneasy you were with your body and since then, he had made you feel like a Goddess. Of course, there had been some wild sex but nothing too dark or anything that could make you feel bad about yourself.

“I’m sure.” You whispered, looking him straight in the eye and grinding yourself against him. “Show me what a bad girl I am and how I need to be punished.”

He pulled on your hair again, making you groan and grind yourself harder against his erected sex. “Please…”

Hvitserk gave you a defiant look. “I’m not certain you deserve it but…”

His hands slid on your body, cupping your ass cheeks and kneading them. He had always liked your butt, everything was an excuse to pinch it, spank it, squeeze it, feel it…

“Who has the right to touch this lovely ass of yours?” Hvitserk murmured against your neck.

“You.”

“That’s right.” Spank! “Only me!” Another spanking. “You’d better remember it.”

His lips followed a path down your body, he was licking your skin as if you were an ice-cream. He fell on his knees and sneaked a hand under your skirt. His fingers teased your sex through your soaked panties before pushing them aside and diving two digits inside. Your walls swallowed them eagerly, greedily.

“Looks like you really are a bad girl after all”. Hvitserk whispered against your skin as he started moving his fingers in and out of your dripping sex. “Is this all of me or did Harald trigger it?”

Your head lolled backwards and banged lightly on the wall on which you were leaning. Every time this man lay a finger on you, you instantly became an incoherent marshmallow.

“Y/N!”

“You…it’s you. It has always been you.” You were breathless.

That kinky boyfriend of yours seemed to like it because he chuckled and sped up his ministrations. Your head banged more strongly on the wall, your hips undulated to the rhythm of his fingers. It was good but you needed more, so much more. Your hands for their way on his head to guide him but Hvitserk pushed them away. Then, he withdrew his fingers and stood up.

You looked at him, eyes wide and lost. “What…why?”

“You don’t get to decide, babe. You’re being punished, remember?”

He pecked your lips and made his way to the bedroom. “Follow me.” As he saw you hesitating, he added sternly. “Now.”

You followed him quicker than you wanted to and entered your shared bedroom. The dark gaze Hvitserk gave you make your knees weaken for the second time of the night. Who knew this dominant side of him would arouse you so much?

“Undress.”

Once again, you obeyed willingly and rapidly took off your clothes before facing him, waiting for his next order. At some point, you felt embarrassed and tried to hide your body to his sight. Sensing your discomfort, Hvitserk quickly approached you and pushed yours arms away. Then, he softly kissed your lips. The kiss was innocent and meant to reassure you but it rose a new fire in you. You suddenly felt more confident than ever but you resisted the urge to jump on him and take the lead. He got away from you, a lazy smirk tugging his lips upwards. Of course, he knew the effect he had on you.

“Get on the bed, on your hands and knees.”

You hopped on the bed and waited, waited, waited. You were about to take a look behind you hen two strong hands spread your legs apart and Hvitserk’s tongue started playing with your folds.

He was teasing you, touching you with only the tip of his tongue. It was almost nothing but you could feel the delicious torture. Then the feathery touch became more like pressure and soon enough, Hvitserk was eating you out greedily, just as he always did it.

Needless to say, you were a mess under his ministrations, even more so when his thumb drew circles on your engorged clit.

Your walls clenched around him, your release was close – just one or two strokes and you would be done. Your thighs were trembling madly under the pleasure he was giving you.

That same pleasure he suddenly took away from you when he withdrew his fingers again.

You let out a frustrated sob to which Hvitserk responded with a harsh slap on your ass. “Problem, babe?”

“No.” You said between your teeth.

“That’s what I thought”. He slapped your ass again a few times after that. You knew he loved it, the way your ass jiggled after each of his touch. When he was satisfied, he stepped away from your body and you heard him fumbling with his clothes. Your breath quickened at the thought that he was finally going to fuck you. Your body started wiggling on his own, expression an impatience just like the one of a bitch in heat waiting to be filled and knotted.

It probably lasted a few seconds but it felt like hours when his dick finally slid inside of you. The thrust was so powerful you upped body fell forwards on the sheets, your face hit the fluffy pillows.

Hvitserk set a hand on each of your hips and rutted into you as if his life was depending on it. The sex was raw, savage, animalistic somehow. You liked it. No, you loved it.

One of his hands grabbed your hair and pulled on it until your back was pressed against his sweaty chest. He attacked your neck while his hand took his place back on your hip and he started his wild ride again.

All of your body was tingling, you were on the verge of insanity and you prayed to whatever almighty that would listen he would let you come this time.

His fingers found your clit to rub it furiously and you could have cried out of joy. The tingling was intensifying, your body was trembling again…and your orgasm hit you like a wave, you screamed his name as he gave a final thrust to reach his release as well.

You both fell on the sheets. Your body was still full of spasms due to the pleasure he had just made you feel. Hvitserk was breathing heavily on your neck and his heart was hammering in his chest. It was so strong that you could feel it beating against your back.

“You alright, babe?”

You smiled. Sweet Hvitserk was back. You rolled on your other side to face him before giving him an answer.

“I’m fine, Hvit. You did not hurt me or anything. It was divine.”

That was his turn to smile. He was relived he had not hurt you. The two of you cuddled, trying to catch your breaths. After a few minutes, you felt completely relaxed and ready to fall asleep.

You sighed contently. “Hvit?”

“Hmm?”

“Best punishment ever.”

He chuckled. “I love you.” He tightened his grip on you and you nestled closer against his chest.

“As I love you, jealous boy”.

Tagging (Tell me if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia​ @therealcalicali​ @tephi101​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @maggiescarborough​ @peaceisadirtyword​ @gearhead66​ @captstefanbrandt​ @mblaqgi​ @ivarswickedqueen​ @akamaiden​ @lisinfleur​ @honestsycrets​

[plus-size-reader]

Captivated

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1993 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Entering into an arranged marriage to Hvitserk

——————————————————————————————————

Arranged marriages were common in Kattegat.

So common in fact that you knew very few people that married for love alone. 

If there was to be a wedding, it was usually formed because there was mutual gain, not only for the two betrothed people, but also their families as well, and your marriage would be no different. 

Hvitserk was at an age where a man should start thinking about taking a wife, and you were at an age when you should have already been one. That made your father very willing to marry you off, and it didn’t hurt that the man in question was a son of Ragnar. 

The very chance to tie you to that bloodline forever was too good to pass up, especially for a greedy and malicious sort of creature like your father. The glory it would shine on him would not pass him by. 

That was the one thing he’d decided. 

He decided that, of course, long before he even asked you if you were willing to partake in any sort of marriage with that man. 

Not that you would have had much say to begin with. 

You had never met any of Ragnar’s famed sons and you, frankly, had no interest in doing so. However, Hvitserk was seeking a wife and with your father’s jarl title, there was little chance he would refuse. 

Even if you were, as your father would say, “No less worth than a milking cow” It was meant to be a compliment, you’d assumed, though it was getting harder and harder to take it as one as you got older. 

You were not blind to the fact that you weren’t as thin and fair as other women may have been, but that didn’t mean you weren’t just as beautiful. You were fine looking, as far as you were concerned, though maybe not to everyone. 

That didn’t seem as if it was going to be a problem for much longer though. 

After all, you were going to get married before long anyway. As soon as you became a wife, it wouldn’t matter what you looked like to anyone other than your husband. 

However, that brought one thing to your attention. You hadn’t thought about it before but there was a huge possibility that as soon as Hvitserk met you, he would refuse you entirely. 

If he didn’t see you as the kind of wife he wanted, you would be back to square one as far as a marriage goes and your father wouldn’t be happy with you. 

Not that you could really care all that much about that. There was no reason for you to treat yourself poorly over that chance. All things considered, if this man rejected you, that was his problem.

You had to just hope for the best and move on with your life if that happened...right? Not marrying Hvitserk wouldn’t immediately make you a spinster. 

You had to hope that wasn’t the case. 

Though, before you could completely back out of the entire thing, a thrall came through the door, a gown in her arms and a smile on her face. Her name was Ama, or something of the sort, and you forced yourself to focus as she spoke to you. 

“Pardon me, the Jarl asked me to ready you for your evening” she informed, setting the dress on the table by the door before closing it. 

The very idea of the day ahead of you filled you with dread, but you forced yourself to get up from where you were perched and readied yourself for what was waiting. 

It was better to get it out of the way. 

~

“Don’t slouch” your father huffed, reaching out to bump you slightly with the wooden cane he used to get around, trying to fix that. You were not even trying to make yourself presentable and he wasn’t going to let that stop him from marrying you off. 

He already had too much into this to let you ruin it.

“We will meet Hvitserk with his brother Ubbe and if he finds you presentable enough, you will remain here” he allowed, seeming to have no problem with forcing you away from your home.

Though, if he was that willing to get rid of you, perhaps you should have been glad to be rid of him. 

You only nodded as he spoke, not even bothering to speak to you as he walked you over to the grand hall in the center of Kattegat. You had never been here, this close to the shore, but you didn’t really have a chance to admire it before you were ushered inside. 

“Jarl Aland, my name is Ubbe” the first man to greet you started, offering a greeting to your much older father, who met him kindly with a smile. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. 

He was nothing like the men in your father’s village, which seemed to be much smaller than the majority of Kattegat. For living so close to the outskirts, there really were few similarities. 

“Excellent. This is my daughter, Y/N” your father chuckled, offering you forward as if you were some sort of cattle to be auctioned off. Still, you did nothing but smile at the man as he admired you. 

You hated every second of it. 

“Hello, I look forward to getting to know much about you” he started, leading you toward the fire in the center of the room, his hand bracing your lower back slightly. 

It was just enough to keep you moving without making you feel uncomfortable, something you were glad for. After all, you were sure that if this man was to do anything unsavory to you, your father would do nothing to stop it. 

Luckily, Ubbe seemed to be rather mannerly for a prince. You just had to hope that his brother was just as civilized. 

“Hvitserk has been anxiously awaiting your arrival” he whispered, smiling down at you with an almost mischievous glint in his eyes. If only you knew just how much his brother had been talking about this. 

This betrothal had come after your father met with the sons of Ragnar last summer, on his way to escort your brother and a few of his friends to take a voyage from this port. 

You had only found out about it shortly after that, though you weren’t sure if the passing suggestion would ever come to pass in reality. Though, now that you were here, you knew why your father had been so keen on you doing this. 

Kattegat was a wonderful place for trade and had much opportunity for growth. It offered a lot of chances for monetary gain in your fathers eyes, and the best way to get in would be through you. 

A bond with the sons of Ragnar would make it plausible for more of your father’s people to come here and make money. 

“I can’t say I’ve been all that at ease myself” you joked back, careful to keep your voice down so that your father couldn’t hear. He was hanging back from you and the blonde, but you wouldn’t put it past him to eavesdrop. 

He had always been such a nosey old bastard. 

“I understand but you mustn't worry, nothing will happen to you here” he assured, and as much as you were sure you wouldn't, you believed him when the words left his lips. 

If nothing else, you knew that Ubbe would do nothing that would allow you to come to any harm. 

You only nodded at his promise, letting him lead you farther into the space until you found a large fire in the center of the back room, a few more men surrounding it. 

You assumed they were his brothers, but more than anything, you wondered which of them was the man you were to marry. 

“Boys, this is Y/N” he introduced, announcing your presence to all of them at once in a way that, under any other circumstances, would have embarrassed you incredibly. 

However, in this instance, all you did was smile as you waited for any of these new strangers to make themselves known to you. The first of which was another blonde, though he towered over both you and Ubbe.

“Jarl Aland’s daughter, we’ve been waiting for you. They call me-” he started, but as soon as he opened his mouth, you put the pieces together. “Bjorn Ironside” you filled in, recalling all the stories they told of him even where you lived. 

He was a living legend and it took you a second to compose yourself after making such a bold statement, not that any of them seemed to mind. If anything, the men surrounding you seemed amused.  

“She’s an enthusiastic little thing, isn’t she?” he grinned, directing his question to Ubbe, who only shrugged. It seemed to him that you were, though it was too early to tell. 

After all, he had only just met you. 

“Enough of that though, you’re here for Hvitserk” Bjorn finally decided, beckoning behind him, presumably for the man in question. 

The man who had been avoiding you up until this point. He had already had a hard enough time being convinced to even meet you, led alone come to terms with the idea of getting married. 

He had never wanted to be married. 

Though, the way he understood it, there just came a time when every man should have had a family, and he had to start thinking about that. It seemed that his bachelor days had come to an end. 

“Excuse him. Hvitserk has never truly cared about anything more than what’s dangling between his legs, and filling his stomach” Bjorn chuckled, his crude joke not lost on you as he nudged you gently. 

They didn’t seem to have any shame between the group of them, and you had to admit that it was refreshing. Your father had always made you live as if you had the sort of title these males did, but they didn’t act like it. 

If anything, they used their birthright as an excuse to be as crass as possible. 

“Come now brother, say hello to your bride” Ubbe prompted, finally addressing the man as he came into view from behind his much larger half brother. He had been dreading this all day. 

An idea that changed as soon as you came into view. 

As soon as he saw you, every thought Hvitserk’d had in regards to a greeting melted away, along with his manners. You had to have been the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. 

There was no possible way you had agreed to marry him. 

“Hvitserk, say hello” Ubbe snapped, laughing at his younger brothers obvious floundering. It was clear to both Bjorn and Ubbe the moment they saw you that this was how he would react. 

Not that it was supposed to be this amusing.

Hvitserk was never speechless, though you had somehow managed to force every plausible thought from his mind with only a look. 

“Hello” 

It was by no means the smooth, or suave introduction he had been planning to knock you off your feet, but it was the best he could muster with the fog you’d forced upon him. 

“Hello Hvitserk, my name is Y/N, though I’d imagine you knew that already” you giggled, finding the humor in your action. Of course he knew your name already, you were just so in the habit of saying it when you first met someone. 

That laugh, nothing more than a slight ease of tension from you, only served to captivate the young male further. 

He was in way over his head, and it was only a matter of time before both you and all of his brothers noticed. 

One thing was for certain though, you no longer had to worry about him rejecting you.