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jadelynlace · 10 months ago

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Full-Term⎮Ink Drinker Blurb⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]

Read more Ink Drinker here.

Author's Note: I teased about it, and you guys begged for it (pun intended). Now, I have never been pregnant, and for any of my followers who have, I apologize if this is no where near close to the actual experience of pregnancy. But I did try my best.

Content Warnings: Pregnancy sex (full term), mentions of birth and Ink Ivar (who is really in need of a warning all on his own).

Word Count: Just shy of 2000 words.

You were ready for it to be over. The past 38 weeks had been full of surprises, watching your body change, watching Ivar fall in love with you all over again. How he could not get enough of the way you are growing a human inside of you. From the photos, to painting your bump, to finding out that you’re about to bore the first Lothbrok girl in over five generations. Ivar was through the moon. But you, oh, you were ready for it to be over.

The thought of birth is exhilarating, it is terrifying. You’ve seen it in the field; in its glory, in its horror. You hadn’t yet made up your mind as to whether you wanted the intimate home birth, or the hospital birth. You stacked up the complications you could have, often leaving you awake at night, or slithering into your dreams. Too many times you’ve envisioned waking up in your own pool of blood or worse: leaving Ivar alone as a single parent to a newborn.

Walking hardly helps, walking at an angle hardly helps. You roll on the exercise ball, as Ivar sneaks glances at how you move your hips, wishing it was him below you. Helga has offered you tea, blends that she claims helped her deliver both Phoenix and Apollo rather quickly. Hvitserk makes a game at trying to jump out from around the corners at the station, hoping it’ll scare you into labor. But he’s only ever been met with the sight of your middle finger.

Desk duty at the station is tedious enough, but you could easily do without the input of the men you work with. It was hard to believe some of them were medics, even harder to believe that they were fathers themselves.

“We could have sex,” Ivar says to you suddenly. Eyes glued to his sketchbook as you adjust, and readjust, how you’re sitting on the couch.

“What?” You say, not quite sure you heard him correctly. His subtly could rival that of a sledgehammer.

“To induce labor. I read that sometimes the best way to get the baby out, is to do the same thing that got it in there,”

The last 38 weeks had taken their toll on Ivar too. You can see the difference in his face, mentally preparing himself for the journey that is coming. The faintest hint of dark circles from staying up with you; in your pain, your sickness, your cravings. Walking on eggshells at times because of the swing in your emotions, and how you would just sometimes cry. Over him, for just existing, and how much you love him. Or, how he once closed the oven door too hard and you feared the oven must hurt.

Ivar was more ready for this than he had ever been ready for anything in his entire life. And the final stretch of days felt like years, but Gods, watching you grow a human is the best experience of his life.

“You really want to have sex with your pregnant wife, to induce labor?” You ask.

“Baby, I really want to have sex with my pregnant wife even if it doesn’t induce labor,” Ivar answers as if it’s so completely obvious.

“Your pull out game is what go me into this mess,” You tease.

“As if you didn’t beg for me to come inside—”

“Ivar,” You cut him off. “Everything hurts right now. And I have to pee again. But I can still manage to stand up and smack you,” And Ivar just offers you his tell tale smile, a grin that stretches from ear to ear, and you calm down.

You take each step one at a time, planting two feet parallel before continuing, and you swear the Braxton Hicks contractions are purposely worse on the stairs. Ivar whines from the bed, wondering where you are and you feel tears in your eyes because you simply can’t walk up the stairs any quicker. Finally though, you’re in the door way and Ivar is in his boxers, constructing the best pillow mound you’ve seen to date.

“I figured this might help,” He tells you, arm out stretched to you. As you get closer, he’s there to fix your hair, standing in front of him as he braids it to keep it out of your face, but to ensure you’re not going to wake up from a headache. There’s a kiss to your shoulder next, as he says “There,” ever so softly.

“Can you help me take off my dress,” You say to him.

“Too hot?” But you don’t answer. Ivar’s hands move slowly, rolling the hem of your nightgown towards your waist and slipping it up over your arms, all while paying careful attention to your braid. Once it’s discarded, you stay where you are, and Ivar’s hands splay across your bump like hot coals, before they gingerly lift it, relieving the pressure. You only moan.

“Just a few more days, baby,” Ivar tells you softly. Slowly his hands move again, covering your chest, the pressure in them as they grow fuller, and fuller.

“Can I take you up on your offer?” You peep.

“I offer you lots of things, every day,” Ivar hums.

“You know exactly which one I am inquiring about, Ivar,” You deadpan. Ivar’s lips land softly on your shoulder again, humming in agreement as his hands continue to roam. Across your bump, to your chest, your lower back and you’re beginning to melt before him.

You move, and Ivar just watches you, setting his glasses on the night stand while you lie down. He’s behind you in an instant but you haven’t found comfort yet.

“No, not like this, it hurts,” You hiss and Ivar stops.

“Hold on,” He says, helping you move, “Try this,” And he moves the pillows again, letting you rest over them.

“Oh, that’s better,” You sigh, melting into the fabric. “So much better,” You hum, nuzzling your face.

“Just relax,” Ivar hums, kissing between your shoulder blades.

“You really want to have sex with your pregnant wife to induce labor?” You mumble again while you feel Ivar’s hands on the small of your back. “Oh, that feels so nice,” You then sigh when he applies pressure where you ache. “Are you even going to be able to get it up?”

Ivar leans over you then, length pressing against you and you giggle.

“Did you even doubt that?” He whispers in your ear, leaving a kiss to your temple.

“No, not really,” You reply, his hands tracing you. “I haven’t shaved since I could see my feet,” You mumble. “Are you sure you really—”

“Do I need to gag you? Is that how this is going to be?” Ivar asks, shifting his weight behind you as his boxers are tossed somewhere behind him. “Can you try to relax for like, twenty minutes?”

“You’re going to last twenty minutes?” You quip, simply because you cannot help yourself. Ivar’s hands are at your cheeks just as the comment leaves your mouth, but instead of the quick smack you anticipate, he grabs handfuls, fondling the skin.

“We both know who’s not going to last,” Ivar hums, tracing your slit. “But when you want me to stop, you tell me, alright?”

“I know Ivar, I know,” You hum.

Ivar’s warmth covers your back, body over yours and you can’t help but shiver in anticipation for his cock to spread your walls. He rests his head against yours for a brief moment, palms tracing your stomach and you can picture the smile on his face. He leaves you for a moment to nudge your legs to spread, and out of pure instinct they fall open.

Grabbing himself, Ivar taps the head of his cock against you, just to tease you before he pushes his length into you slowly, inch by inch as your wall spread with a delicious pleasure. Feeling every vein and trace of skin before he bottoms out, and rests against you.

“Oh my god,” You moan, thighs already trembling as his hands waste no time to cover yours as they bunch the sheets. “Oh, fuck,” You gasp.

“I know,” Ivar hums back. “Better?”

“You have no idea, Ivar,” You moan into the pillow. “Gods, you have no idea,”

Ivar stays still, letting you feel the weight over you, the pleasure between the two of you, his cock throbbing inside of you. He only moans from where he is, his lips pressed against the curve of your neck before he finally rocks his hips. Careful to let the weight fall to his legs, you’re nearly dripping as his cock slides, pushing back into you and the intensity makes you shake. You whine as Ivar’s hands squeeze yours, harder.

Pulling back, you feel his hands press into your back, his cock staying still and your mind is left to remember all of the times he would have taken a fistful of your hair into his grasp. Or how his hand print would redden across your backside. But this time, he’s taking his time, taking more care than he ever has to make sure you’re both going to remember this. He doing exactly what he said: he’s getting your child out the same way he put them in there. With love.

You don’t have the words to tell him to go faster, to fuck you harder. The sensitivity makes the pleasure that much more intense, and you’re on the grasp of your first release as his hips moves lazily.

“You’re going to make me cum,” You gasp, causing Ivar to only hum in response as he moves. Nudging your head with his, his lips catch yours for a brief moment, pressing his forehead against you.

“You always feel so good,” He rasps, his cock slowly moving through your folds.

You relax further into the pillows, your thighs shaking as he brushes your sweet spot.

“Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl?” Ivar hums, and you only nod. “Good,” He teases.

His thrusts grow deeper, pressing against you harder but still mindful of your body. Your orgasm grabs you suddenly, tired body shaking under him, fingers interlocked over yours. Humming from above you, you press against Ivar further, helping him over his edge as his muscles tense, cock releasing inside of you as he moans deeply from his chest.

The room is still, his breathing over yours as Ivar nuzzles against you, eyes closed as he holds you. His cock finally flags as he moves back, pressing his hands against your back before he helps you move.

“There you are,” Ivar teases, helping you stand on shaky legs and you only look up at the man who falls more in love with you every second.

“Can you help me get my nightgown back on?” You ask softly and Ivar chuckles. He moves then, and you stop him. “Wait, let me just hug you first,” You finally peep, wrapping your arms around his neck, inching as close to him as your bump will allow and Ivar only wraps back around you.

“You know, it could take several attempts for this to work,” Ivar quips.

“Oh, honey, I know,”

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#vikings #vikings au #modern vikings #ivar au #modern vikings au #ivar #vikings fiction #modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar x you #modern ivar x you #ivar smut #modern ivar smut

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 2 years ago

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Vantalaður Ást

Ivar Lothbrok Hvitserk Lothbrok x F!Reader

Chapter 16 - Chapter 17.

A/N: So I wrote a little blurb about how I was sorry this had taken so long, but tumblr deleted my first draft and I legit don’t give a fuck anymore 🤣 blah blah @kaybee87 this is for you 😘

Warnings: 18+, suggestive themes, p in v (wrap it up irl.) alcohol, weddings, addiction mentions, pregnancy mention (not reader), the boys being boys.

Word Count: 7.9k+

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

Your boots were muffled on the plush carpet as you strode down the corridor. The boys had the biggest suite in the hotel, three bedrooms and a living area as well. Hvitserk had told you all about it and sent you pictures, it looked lovely. They were out last night getting rip-roaringly drunk and you had to mute your phone at one point because Hvitserk was blowing up your notifications and the girls were getting curious.

Pulling out the key card you slipped it quietly into the door, letting the light turn green before carefully stepping inside. It was dimly lit, a lamp on a small table casting a faint glow into the small hallway area before it spread into the room itself. Smiling, you crouched down and gently touched the sleeping form that was resting against the wall. He stirred, his eyes opening and when he saw it was you a wide, sleepy smile split his face.

“Elsku dúllan mín,” he whispered, reaching for your face to pull you to him. Recoiling slightly, your nose scrunched up at the smell of him.

“Jesus, Hvitserk. You smell like a bar!”

“I didn’t want to miss you arriving,” he said with a needy tone that made you smile and lean into him. His lips were so welcoming and you exhaled softly against him. You had been apart for a few days before the wedding and you had missed him.

“Why are you on the floor, Hvitserk?”

“I knew what time you were coming, I moved out here so I could kiss you before anyone saw.” Leaning forward you rewarded him with another, mind bendingly, tender kiss. Your fingertips ghosted over the side of his face and his hand fisted in your top.

“We should stop,” you breathed, keeping your eyes closed because you didn’t want this moment to end.

“Don’t worry. No one will see us,” his gaze dropping to your lips once more before he kissed you harder this time. A tiny moan of desperation leaving you, his arms pulling you off your feet and into him.

“Hvitserk?” A voice called. You don’t even remember getting up. But by the time Ivar had rounded the corner you were standing, hitching the strap of your bag higher onto your shoulder while Hvitserk smirked on the floor. Elbows on his raised knees and a thumb swiping along his lips like he could still taste you. Ivar glanced between you both but his expression was impassive, leaning heavily on his cane. You made a note to make sure his meds were in his pocket before you left.

“What are you doing on the floor, huh?”

“Resting,” replied Hvitserk. “Still recovering from last night, brother.”

“You absolutely stink,” you commented and he sniggered lightly.

“I’m going for a shower now,” he jumped up towering over you as he stretched, his back to Ivar he gave you that puppy dog grin as your eyes locked. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Fat chance,” you retorted. Placing your hands on his hips you shimmied past him in the small space, highly aware of how close he was and hoping Ivar wasn’t reading too much into this. “You ready?” You asked the youngest Lothbrok, trying to dispel the breathlessness from your tone.

“More than the rest,” he answered, glaring at his brother who you could just tell was still smirking even as he sauntered back to his room. You followed Ivar into the living area, seeing a mini bar against one wall and Ivar perched on a stool there. You emptied your bag onto the bar surface, scattering bands, combs, hair wax and gel. You concentrated on setting everything up as Ivar watched. His blue eyes were focussed when you dared to glance at him, his head resting in the palm of his hand and hair framing his handsome face. You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension that had collected between you.

“Was last night fun?” He stirred, breaking out of his reverie at the sound of your voice. His piercing gaze slid to you and for a minute you wondered if he knew the secret you bore. You always felt like Ivar could read you, better than even Hvitserk. Especially with the way he noticed even the smallest details about someone.

“It was what you would expect for a night out with my brothers.” You grinned fondly as memories surfaced.

“It’s been a while since I joined you all.” Ivar shrugged and sat up straight as you came round behind him.

“Hvitserk wouldn’t stop talking about you.” You didn’t miss the light hearted, yet probing tone of Ivar’s voice. Your hands didn’t falter though and you raked the comb through his soft strands without missing a beat.

“We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few months,” you finally responded and Ivar scoffed, his fist closed firmly around the handle on his cane.

“Uh huh.” He didn’t say anything else because Ubbe appeared from around the corner. He squinted at you and then threw himself onto a sofa with a groan.

“What time is it?” He rasped, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Struggling, brother?” You tugged on Ivar’s hair in warning and he sighed heavily.

“How are you….functioning?” Ubbe asked Ivar as he hung over the arm of the sofa watching you do his youngest brother's hair.

“I was sensible. And I knew we had to be up early. I didn’t get so drunk I acted like an idiot all night long either.”

“No. You don’t need alcohol for that Ivar,” Sigurd announced his arrival with that comment, making Ivar turn his head and you dropped the braid.

“Stay still!” You hissed, forcing his head back round. “No arguing today. This is Björn’s big day and if I so much as sniff the pair of you taking chunks out of each other, I will personally march you from the wedding myself.” You jabbed the comb in Sigurd’s direction and he held up his hands to show he surrendered. “You too,” you stated, poking Ivar in the shoulder and making him curse softly.

“She’s right,” Ubbe mumbled. “No fighting.”

“Did I hear my litla systir?” You let Björn hug you from behind, wrapping you in one of his famous snuggly bear hugs. He leaned on your shoulder, squeezing you hard round the middle before releasing you.

“Nervous, brother bear?”

“Nah. Should I be?” He asked quickly and you shook your head.

“They were all still asleep when I left this morning but the excitement is popping.” You finished off Ivar’s hair, tying the last braid and resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re done. Sigurd?” Applying some wax to your hands you scrunched his curls before segmenting out some strands at the side and began to braid them close behind his ear. “What am I doing with yours, Björn?”

“Just redoing the braids.”

“What about me?” You glanced up only to feel a flame in your face at the sight of Hvitserk fresh from his shower. He still had droplets of water settling like diamonds on his skin. His tattoo that you had traced with your fingers while he told you about it, rippled as he poured himself some water for the small sink behind the bar. He leaned easily against the counter, the towel slung dangerously low and it was all you could do to keep your eyes trained on Sigurd’s braids.

“Put some fucking clothes on!” Sigurd grabbed a handful of your bands and threw them at Hvitserk.

“Hey! I need those!”

“I’ve got them, sæta.” Peering over the bar you saw Hvitserk give you a wink when he was ducked down and you rolled your eyes, grateful that Sigurd had broken the moment for you. Prodding the blonde Lothbrok in the shoulder, you were satisfied when he flinched and swore.

“Don’t mess with me today, Sigurd.” Finally you finished both sides and stepped back to admire your handy work. “Do you…?”

“No I’m done,” he said as he slipped off the stool.

“I’m next!” Demanded Hvitserk who still hadn’t got dressed. This was going to be a struggle. The others slowly filtered away to get changed and soon you were left alone with him. His hazel eyes looked around as you tilted his head to the side. You jolted slightly when he slipped a hand down your legs, digging his fingertips into your thigh and you inhaled sharply before slapping him with the flat of the comb.

“Ouch, kærasta!”

“Don’t distract me!” You whispered.

“I can’t help myself.” His leg jigged in irritation and he crossed his arms across his chest. “I just want to tell everyone how I feel. How we feel.”

“I know. Soon, ok?” You breathed, combing half of his hair out of the way. “Let Björn and Kat have their day.”

“But then we’re…” he trailed off as Ivar thumped into view.

“Oh wow look at you!” It spilled from you a little too brightly but he did look amazing. Kat had picked out black suits with a deep red waistcoat under the jacket, over a black shirt. Without thinking you stepped around Hvitserk and reached to adjust Ivar’s collar. He tipped his head forward and you slipped your fingers round, smoothing it all down only to be struck by how sad his gaze was when it locked with yours. “You ok?”

“Are you finishing my hair? I want to get ready.” You looked over your shoulder to glower at Hvitserk but he just bit his bottom lip as he watched you and Ivar. His leg was still going and his arms tightened slightly across his chest, bunching up his muscles.

“Shut up, Hvitserk,” Ivar snapped.

“Make me. Brother.”

“Oh children! Do I have to give you two the same threat I gave Ivar and Sigurd? No fucking fighting!” You made a point of glaring at Hvitserk but he avoided your gaze, his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Seems someone is the common denominator there,” muttered Hvitserk and you cracked him on the shoulder. The slap sounded worse than it was but he still flinched, you had no doubt Ivar was looking smug behind you.

“Pack it in. Now let me finish your hair and I’ll gush over how handsome you look too, Mr What About Me.” Not much else was said as you swiftly braided Hvitserk’s hair, his arms not shifting from his defensive position.

You gave each brother the same attention you’d given Ivar, except Björn. When you saw him you nearly sobbed, letting him drag you into an all encompassing bear hug before he sent you packing back to the girls.

You took a moment before you left, watching them preening amongst themselves as Ubbe poured some mead for them all. You went to leave when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“You’ve got time,” muttered Björn, holding out a glass for you.

“Surely this is a brother thing,” you assumed.

“It’s a family thing,” Ubbe spoke up. Dumping your bag beside the sofa you reluctantly took the glass, Björn wrapping his arm around and pulling you into him.

“Who’d have thought I’d be the first one to get married,” he started and you all scoffed in amusement.

“You’re the only one in a steady enough relationship,” Ivar pointed out. “I’d say it was pretty obvious.” Hvitserk groaned and nudged his brother as you glared at him from under Björn’s embrace.

“To our oldest brother,” Ubbe raised his glass and looked around the group. “May he pave the way for the rest of us.”

“Here, here!” You cheered, knocking your glass into the rest and you all chugged the mead quickly. You gave up after a few gulps knowing there was wine waiting for you. “Don’t spill any!” You cried as they tipped their heads back, Hvitserk gasping in satisfaction when he finished first, a proud smile splitting his face.

“Still the fastest chugger,” he announced.

“That’s what she said,” muttered Sigurd and they all descended into snorts of laughter.

“I’ve got to go! Have fun boys, for the love of the gods don’t drink much more! Don’t mark your suits and be on fucking time!” You stressed urgently.

“Don’t worry astvinur,” Ubbe said as he wrapped an arm around Björn and gestured with the hand still clutching his glass tankard. “After you I’m the most sensible one here.” You smiled, shaking your head and made your way to the door.

“Hey!” You paused, watching Hvitserk approach, feeling the butterflies in your stomach as you looked him over, appreciating his suit. “Checking me out, huh sæta?”

“Maybe,” you admitted quietly.

“I can’t wait to see you in your dress.” As he spoke he leaned against the half shut door, his fingers curling over yours and his hazel eyes dragging up and down your form. He sucked in his bottom lip, such a simple motion had such a devastating effect on you it was all you could do to keep your composure.

“Kiss me,” you whispered boldly. His gaze flared, followed by a swift cocky upturn to his lips before he was snatching the breath from your body.

“I don’t want to stop…” he mumbled against your mouth, a hand coming up to cup the side of your face and you groaned. Coming to your senses, you pushed him away. Gently touching your lips as you adjusted the bag strap on your shoulder.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Not soon enough,” he grumbled good naturedly. The door didn’t close and you knew he was watching you walk away so you sashayed before breaking down in giggles. The door finally closed and you sighed, thinking he’d gone but instead he grabbed your arm and spun you round just as you turned the corner in the corridor. Both hands came up to cradle your face as he gave you a deep, needy kiss which made your head spin. Your lungs ached because you forgot to breathe and the butterflies in your stomach started doing somersaults.

“Go now or I’ll never let you leave,” he groaned. Biting your lip you smiled.

“I’m going.”

“Hvitserk? You out here?” Ubbe shouted into the hallway.

“Shit, yeah I’m coming!” He called, sauntering round the corner and you leaned against the wall, fanning yourself. You had to get a grip but today was going to be so terribly difficult.

You left the main hotel building, walking purposely back towards the Bride’s cottage that you’d left everyone else in. Music was going, Lagertha was pouring wine and she cheered loudly when you entered. Kat was sitting at the dresser having her makeup done, Alex was dancing with Hali, making the boy throw his head back with laughter.

Before you’d even put your bag down, you were almost knocked over by Asa as she wrapped her little arms around you.

“How is frændi Hvitserk?” She whispered. Her eyes were wide and you got down on her level. Ever since they’d been told about Hvitserk and his “illness,” she had made all these scenarios up in her mind and you were the only one who could put her mind at ease.

“I’ve just seen him,” you whispered. “And he told me, he cannot wait to see his very favourite frænka.” You let her digest that information for a moment and she rewarded you with a beaming smile.

“He did?” She gasped. “Will he look at my pretty dress?” She stepped back and did a twirl in the rich red dress that matched the brothers. The layers flared out creating such a beautiful image for the briefest of moments you almost felt broody. She was gorgeous, and one of your favourite people on this planet. When she stopped you straightened her straps, gently brushing her hair off her shoulder and gave her a smile.

“He is going to love your dress. Shall I get in mine?” Without a word she grabbed your hand, barely giving you time to wave at Kat who was beginning to look nervous before you were dragged into the other room.

She chatted to you the whole time, bringing you up to speed on Torvi who you’d just missed; her little legs swinging on the chair while she waited for you to reappear. The dress was perfect, long floaty material that hid all the sins of your body and a matching shade to Asa’s. The sleeves were off the shoulder, leaving straps to hold it up, blooms of lace plunging down, but not indecently. Thankfully Kat had also got you all some white faux fur pashminas to cover your shoulders. Already you knew though, some dancing, some shots and you wouldn't be feeling the cold anymore.

You joined the others, Asa letting go of your hand and running to join Lagertha on the sofa while she watched you all get ready. Kat was standing nervously to the side and you scowled at her.

“Stop chewing!” You scolded softly.

“I know but I’m so nervous!” She breathed. “How did he seem?” You sat in the chair and let the makeup artist start on you.

“Björn is stupidly excited,” you nearly made a joke about them celebrating so hard they might be late; but from the look of her that would be a very ill timed joke. “They’re all so happy for him.”

“No horror stories from last night?”

“Nope. They got drunk, probably danced until Ivar ruined their fun…haven’t you got a dress to put on?” You asked, making her jump up. Luckily Lagertha and Asa distracted Kat and disappeared with her to get changed.

Finally you were all done, standing there with your beautiful flowers, make up and hair done and a sense of anticipation filled the cottage when Lagertha asked if you were all ready to see.

She opened the doors and a collective gasp spilled from you and Alex as Kat stepped into the room.

Her dress was exquisite, the top half made of lined lace, hugging her body and covering her arms in patterns of flowers and leaves. The middle band was a matching shade of red, gems glinting in the light when she moved, the skirt of her dress flowing elegantly round her legs.

“Well?” She squeaked. You were lost for words, tears threatening to ruin all the hard work of the makeup artist so when Hali stepped forward first you let out a little shaky breath.

“I think you look beautiful,” he said earnestly. “Can I walk you down the aisle?” Alex blew out a breath and you knew she was trying not to cry as much as you were.

“Yes, Hali. Of course you can.” You all fussed around the bride, adjusting her veil and laying out the train of her dress before lining up.

They were getting married just behind the cottage to a backdrop of mountains and snow and then the wedding party would move to the marquee to eat and dance. This wedding had been pulled together quickly but it had all slotted into place perfectly and you were bursting with pride that your biggest brother bear was finally getting married.

Björn wasn’t late. All the brothers were stood at the altar, looking impeccable but your gaze softened at the sight of Hvitserk. Imagining this is what it would be like to get married to him. Marriage was not something you’d really put a lot of thought into but now you had that…that someone. This desire was foreign and you weren’t entirely sure what to do with it. Concentrating on the ceremony you hoped your thoughts would clear but your gaze kept wandering to Hvitserk, only to find him returning the focussed look.

The pair of you almost missed the end of the ceremony, the kiss, the cheers. Following the newly married couple into the marquee you were momentarily distracted by Asa as she dragged you round pointing out the decorations and the buffet that was being laid out. Eventually you made it to the bar, immediately asking for a gin and guzzling it harder than you should.

“Thirsty?” You let out a moan into your glass, you didn’t need this right now. Not when he looked for fucking good in that suit.

“Go away Hvitserk,” you whispered, flinching when he rested his chin on your shoulder. Your entire body tensed but he let out a soothing “ssssh,” into your ear.

“Relax, sæta. No one suspects a thing.”

“I just don’t want to ruin their moment.” You whispered. He ordered a drink from over your shoulder, pressing in behind and you had to bite your bottom lip to keep your thoughts to yourself. Hvitserk leaned on the bar beside you, nursing his drink but keeping contact with you even when other people came and spoke to you both. When the rush cleared you two found yourselves alone at the end of the bar, observing everyone enjoying themselves.

“I want you,” he murmured in your ear just as the DJ stepped up to play some music while people ate. Your entire body felt like it was electrified, the hairs on your arms standing on end as his words spawned a desire deep in your belly. You pressed your back into him, each movement just giving him a hint of friction on the growing bulge in his trousers. You smirked at the tiny little breath hitch he gave, his hidden hand grabbing an arse cheek hard enough to make you jump. “Don’t tease me,” he growled.

“Why not? You do it to me all the time.” You casually finished your drink, stepping back a little to bump into him harder and he swore under his breath, fingers grabbing your hip to hold you in place.

“Bathroom. Now.” Protests died in your throat as the pair of you scanned the crowd before quickly diving into the door to your left. He barged you through the doors and thankfully the place was empty. His lips were insistent, his fingers commanding with the way they held your throat. Molten heat pooled between your legs and you wanted nothing more than to have him here, right now.

“We shouldn’t!” You giggled as Hvitserk kissed his way up your throat and the side of your face.

“But the dress,” he groaned. “You in that dress is driving me wild. Do you know how difficult it is for me to keep my expression blank so Ubbe doesn’t figure us out?”

“Just call me litla…”

“Don’t ruin the moment for me!” He huffed, forcing his lips to cover yours and stop you talking. You eased yourself up onto the counter, legs spread so he could wedge himself between them. His hand held your face, a simple motion you had missed these past few days. The kiss tossed back and forth between you, both of you fighting for dominance and a small giggle left you at the idea of doing this in a bathroom at your friend's wedding. “I missed you!” He whispered and you moaned softly as his hand slipped under the folds of floaty material. His breath hitched when he felt your lace underwear and you smirked over his shoulder. He kissed you again, almost cracking your head on the tiles, he was so desperate to taste your lips. “Sæta, I need you…”

“We can’t,” you breathed. But already your hips were lifting off the counter as he slipped your underwear down your thighs. Your arms curled round his neck, holding him close and inhaling everything that made him so ultimately Hvitserk. You heard his belt go, the buckle clanking on the surface as he slipped his trousers down. You planted your foot against the hand dryer on the wall as Hvitserk reached to hook his hand over the top of the mirror behind you. You were both so desperate you knew no foreplay was needed. Spitting on his hand, Hvitserk wiped it quickly on his flushed cock and you wriggled on the counter in anticipation. His other hand hooked around your waist and hauled you to the edge, notching his cock at your entrance and both of you groaned in unison at the sensation.

With a firm thrust he entered you fully, his hazel eyes watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features. His own face screwing up in concentration, knowing the pair of you could be discovered at any moment. He rocked your body, desperate to reach that point that neither of you could back from. His entire body was tense, his lips trailing over your neck as you leaned back into the support of his arm. He found a steady rhythm, all the while you tried to keep listening out for the door but you were soon drowning in the noise of the gasps and moans that filled the bathroom.

His hands came back to your body, clutching you to him as he throbbed inside you, filling and stretching your cunt at this angle. His mouth was open, his eyes glassy and hooded which told you he was close. His gasps increased, mingled with your own; they echoed loudly against the tiles.

“Hvitserk, I’m gonna…” your voice was breathy and it seemed to spur him on to increase the tempo. Your mouth found his, feeding off his desire, tasting his neediness and it brought you so close to the brink.

“Guð, þú ert svo kynþokkafullur,” he gasped against your cheek just as you cunt clamped around him. Burying your face into him, you hoped he would absorb the loud cries that threatened to echo out of the bathroom. The rippling sensation of your orgasm had him rutting forcefully into you as he found his own release. His fingers tangled almost painfully in your braids, his form trembling against yours as he worked you both through the remaining waves of pleasure that weaved between you.

Catching your breath you let him kiss the soft, tender spot under your ear, his hips flexing into you once more as he cupped your face.

The squeak of the outer door had you shoving him away and he quickly disappeared into a stall to redress, still having time to chuck you a devilish smirk before you grabbed your underwear off the floor just as the door opened and Kat and Alex strode in.

“There you are!” Cried Kat.

“Why does it smell like sex in here?” Alex asked with a rise of her eyebrow.

“I have no idea,” you forced out. “Maybe people were in here before me.” Looking in the mirror you saw you were a mess, lipstick was smeared across your lips and you quickly worked on sorting it out, keeping your legs crossed and hoping you could dive into a stall soon.

“Whatever. I have a crisis!” You dared to glance at the door Hvitserk was hiding behind and quickly tried to figure out how you were going to get them out of here.

“Shall we do this at the bar. With shots?” You suggested but Kat leaned on the counter.

“No alcohol.” Both you and Alex glanced at each other over her hunched form.

“Why?” Alex asked.

“I think I’m pregnant,” whispered Kat. All of you turned at once as Hvitserk burst from the stall, excitement lighting up his face and you died a little inside but thankfully his trousers were done up.

“What the hell Hvitserk?!” You cried trying to act surprised.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” smirked Alex. Kat just gazed at him with wide imploring eyes.

“This is the ladies!” She cried but then waved a hand like it didn’t matter. “You can’t tell him, Hvitserk! Promise me!”

“I won’t say a word,” he grinned before grabbing her in a bear-like hug, his bright eyes slowly wandering to you and you smiled tentatively. “I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He released Kat and to your surprise he slipped an arm around your waist and kissed your cheek, lingering for just a second longer than he needed to. You coughed slightly hoping the desire in your body wasn’t there for everyone to see. He made a fuss of kissing Kat and then Alex before his gaze turned back to you with all unspoken promises and he disappeared from view.

“Well that needs some explaining. His shirt was untucked,” Alex pointed out but Kat deflected the comment.

“Her and Hvitserk are together all the time, they’re like twins,” she murmured. “He probably freaked when he heard us because this is the girls bathroom.” You nodded but you could see Alex wasn’t buying what Kat was saying, her gaze was unforgiving and you almost buckled under the weight of it.

“So. Have you done a test?” You asked, hoping to put the attention back on Kat.

“That’s what we’re here to do,” announced Alex. You and Kat stared at her as she delved into her bag and pulled out a box.

“You just walk around with them in your bag?” You asked incredulously but all she did was shrug as Kat fell on the box. Gathering her dress she disappeared into a stall.

“So,” started Alex. She pinned you with a knowing look and you shifted uncomfortably. “Hvitserk.”

“Is my best friend,” you stated.

“I’m not accepting that he’s just a friend.”

“He’s had a difficult time and I’ve been helping him through it these last 6 months.” You avoided her gaze, it wasn’t a total lie. You had been helping him through everything and he was doing great. The pair of you were also in a full blown relationship underneath everyone’s nose, wanting to see if it worked before you told anyone else. It quickly became evident that it was working and you both decided to keep it under wraps until after the wedding.

Thankfully her attention was redirected when Kat flushed the toilet. She looked a little pale when she placed the test on top of the box, face down.

“Now we wait.”

Everyone was dancing in the marquee. The music was loud and jaunty, Ubbe grabbed you for a twirl as you walked past, your red dress fluttering around your legs. Laughter and happy conversation drifted on the notes of the song and you found your spirits lifted, a smile permanently on your face. This was everything you had dreamed for Kat and Björn and you were so happy they had finally taken the last step.

You paused, watching Kat and Björn in the middle of the dance floor sharing a private moment in the whirlwind of their day. Most of the guests were up and dancing, except Ivar. You came to a stop beside him, hoping he’d say something. It had been strained between you these past few months but most of your effort has gone into hiding your relationship with Hvitserk.

“Are you having a good time?” You asked, glancing at him and seeing how relaxed he was.

“It is a party and a feast. What isn’t there to like?”

“Are you happy for Björn?” He sipped his drink, rubbing his hand over his mouth when he was finished and pointing at Kat.

“She is the best of his choices.”

“Yes she is,” you agreed with a soft smile. “She has changed him and made him grow up.”

“How is it living with my brother?” Ivar asked with a smirk. “Because out of all of us, he is the messiest.”

“Yes he is,” you said with warm affection. “But his hours are long and it gives me time to pick up after him and work.” Sipping your glass of champagne you watched Hvitserk on the opposite of the dance floor, he was talking to Halfdan. His hands animated as he described something and you smiled to yourself. Sure you had bad days and this whole week had been an ultimate test for him; what with being away from you for a few days and around the most alcohol he’d had in months. But he’d done it. He was doing it. And you felt your heart swell with pride.

“I do think I could have handled it better.” Turning slightly you looked at Ivar who was staring into the pits of his glass. His expression was pensive, sadness shone in the depths of his exquisite blue irises and your throat ran dry all of a sudden.

“Handled, what better?”

“You. Us—this.”

“I don’t….”

“I need to finish.” He didn’t sound angry, but his features were dragged down, his teeth appearing for a second as he desperately tried to express himself. His eyes looked all around until they finally settled on you making your heart stutter for a brief moment. “I knew. Long before you and Hvitserk, I knew. I could see it and still I let myself…want you.” The splinters that had long repaired began to seep, the gentle shift of your heart started the age old ache that you carried around with you, buried deep inside. “I let myself feel and then—well, I tried.”

“So did I, Ivar. But you didn’t let me be yours.” He shrugged, his leg shuffling into better position.

“And then Hvitserk,” he continued. “I saw your face at the hospital and I knew at that moment you’d never be fully mine. Even though I hoped... Even Sigurd tried and didn’t get anywhere.”

“W-what?” Now he smirked, covering the pain in his face at your shock.

“It’s why he created a scene at the lodge. You all forget, I observe everything.”

“But you knew?!”

“Of course I knew,” he replied, scrunching up his nose. Scoffing in disbelief you drained your glass.

“What do we do now?” You asked quietly as the pair of you stood shoulder to shoulder, watching your family and friends with smiles lighting their faces. The happiness that filled this wedding was something you hadn’t felt in such a long time and even now it was tinged with a greyness you couldn’t put a name to.

“You carry on. You are exactly what Hvitserk needed, still needs. You were always his.” You glanced at the youngest Lothbrok, tears welling in your eyes as your mind ran through what could have been.

“Maybe in another life,” you murmured.

“One where I learn to love what’s good for me.” On a whim, you leaned in close and he turned to you in surprise. His eyes softened as your scent wrapped around him and he breathed deeply. Boldly you placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek. You felt him lean into you, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, your shed tears resting on his skin.

“I’m sorry, Ivar,” you whispered. He nodded, swallowing against the lump in his throat as his fingers dug into you. One last contact before you were gone for good. Without looking back at him you left. Abandoning your glass on an empty table as the sobs rose up inside you. Maybe if he’d tried harder you’d have stayed. But it was all ifs, buts and maybes.

It was dark in the garden, the light of the braziers only stretched so far and you needed a moment. Tears slid down your face, knowing you still had to talk to Björn and Ubbe. It had been difficult with Ivar, more than you were anticipating. Your old feelings had surfaced, because you had let yourself want him. You had let yourself hope. The love for him was still there but it was edged with pain. You knew why he had pushed you away in the end, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“What are you doing?” Whirling around you held in a scream, your heart leaping in fear but it was only Sigurd.

“What is it with you Lothbroks scaring the shit out of me?” You sniffed, wiping your eyes and hoping he didn’t notice.

“Sorry,” he replied, giving you a toothy grin that said anything but.

“In answer to your question, I was just taking a moment.”

“To cry.”

“No…” he grabbed at your arm and forced you to face him. You went to push him off but he gently swiped a stray tear off your chin.

“I saw you talking to Ivar.”

“He didn’t do this to me.”

“He doesn’t have to do anything to make someone cry,” he stated and you huffed out a laugh. “There, that’s the smile,” he murmured.

“You didn’t come out here to make me smile, Sigurd.”

“Rumbled.” He released you but stayed beside you, resting against a tree, his curly hair cascaded over his shoulders as he glanced back at the wedding. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Me? You barely let me touch your hair.”

“No, not for that. For Hvitserk.”

“Hv-Hvitserk?” You stuttered.

“None of us could have brought him back from the edge like you have. You are special to him.” You rubbed your hands up your bare arms looking away from him as he spoke because you knew your face would give you away. “More than he lets on.”

“I’m just his friend,” you lied quietly and Sigurd laughed in quiet disbelief.

“We all have eyes, krúttið mitt.”

“Not you an’ all,” you muttered. He placed a hand on your shoulder, drawing you into his warm body and you went easily. Slipping your hands under his suit jacket and snuggling close into his body.

“Ivar knows. He knew.” You felt Sigurd tense against you followed by a quick draw of breath as he attempted a nonchalant shrug.

“Doesn’t matter now anyway,” mumbled Sigurd and you nodded.

“I might turn in.” Leaving his embrace you let him catch you round the waist. His mismatched green eyes glinted in the firelight as they searched your features.

“Goodbye, krúttið mitt.” The phrase held more weight than normal and you both knew it.

“Bye, Sigurd.” His fingers trailed over your hip as you moved away. His gaze followed you until you’d disappeared into the crowd.

You were caught up in the swirl of warmth and happiness, joy spilled over and tried to light your soul as you weaved your way across the dance floor. Ubbe clutched your hand, pulling you from the throng and over to the bar with Björn following. He embraced you with one of those bear hugs you adored so much. It was getting harder and harder to keep yourself from falling apart as you stared at the boys who had been your older brothers and protectors for most of your life.

“We wanted to talk to you,” Ubbe started.

“Oh yeah. What have I done now?”

“It’s Hvitserk,” stated Björn and you felt your smile faltering as your gaze drifted between two very different sets of blue eyes.

“Oh?”

“I don’t know what you did ástvinur,” Ubbe leaned on his elbows against the bar, facing the gathering. “But I haven’t seen Hvitserk smile like that in months.”

“He has done amazingly,” you said lightly.

“Bjarnarungi,” Björn whispered a name you hadn’t heard in such a long time and you almost sobbed it all out to them there and then. “Does he make you happy?” As you stared up at Björn, Ubbe leaned in closer.

“Because you make him happy.”

“Guys…we were going to wait until after the wedding before we said anything!” Ubbe let out a noise of satisfaction as Björn slammed his hand firmly onto the wooden surface of the bar.

“I knew it!” He exclaimed loudly. The pair of them reached for you at the same time and you felt the heat of your emotion as it crept down your face. Holding tightly onto their arms you sobbed quietly, wanting to remember this moment forever.

“My turn!” More hands snaked round you and the others shifted to make room for Hvitserk pressed in behind you. His face burying into your neck, the tickle of his breath catching your behind the ear.

“Group hug!” Shouted Sigurd as he barrelled into you all, nearly making the group fall over and you let out a breathless giggle.

“Ivar!” Ubbe shouted and you wondered if he’d join in. Turning in the tight hug you felt Hvitserk move to the side and Ivar appeared. All of you created a circle, linking arms as you all peered inward, something you hadn’t done since you were kids. Wedged between Ivar and Björn with Hvitserk opposite you couldn’t help but get caught up in the feel of you all together. It probably wouldn’t happen again for a long time.

“No matter what happens,” Björn stated quietly. “We are Lothbroks.”

“Except me!” You piped up making Ubbe cough slightly and Sigurd rolled his eyes in a good natured way.

“Right now,” Björn continued. “I need to give my wife her present! Litla systir…” he prised you from the tangle of the others and walked you to the edge of the dance floor. “Find Floki, tell him it’s time.” You nodded, for once completely in the dark about what he was going to do. You found Floki talking with Lagertha who beamed as you approached, embracing you gently and rubbing your arm.

“Litla hrafn.” You went willingly into Floki’s waiting embrace breathing him in deeply before looking up at him.

“Björn said it's time.” He excused himself from Lagertha and still with his arm around you, steered you out of the marquee. “Where are we going?”

“Björn got Kat a…” he giggled, his entire face lighting up at the irony. “A köttur. He got Kat, a cat.” You frowned, seeing he’d brought you to the car park where his van was. Unlocking the camper he ushered you inside.

“Floki, it’s warm in here. Are we going to collect it?” There was no evidence of a cat in the living area of the camper.

“In here,” he gestured to you and opened the door to his bedroom. Clasping your hands together you let out a high pitched squeal, whispering how adorable the kitten was as it padded towards you across Floki’s bed, fluffy tail raised and little mewling cries spewed from it. “I’ve been coming to check on her every hour,” he assured you. “Komið svo litli kettlingur.” He scooped her up and held her close, whispering words of endearment as he carefully put her in the carrier.

“We can’t go with you.” The words fell from you before you’d even really thought about it and Floki looked at you, no judgement in his eyes as he waited for you to finish. “Hvitserk would do it, for me. But I can’t ask that of him.” Floki nodded and pulled you down to sit on the covers, his hands smothering yours lovingly.

“I’m glad you saw it yourself. You are more in tune with him than you even realise. Dóttir…”

“I’m sorry. I did really want to come with you to travel but I don’t think—just not now.” The disappointment was evident on your face but the pain of ripping Hvitserk from people he loved the most was something you couldn’t do. He was doing so well, firmly back to the Hvitserk you’d known all your life, he was working, living… At the time he’d agreed and said it would do him good, because he’d do anything for you. “We’ll visit,” you whispered, squeezing Floki’s fingers.

“I’d like that.” Hitching up a smile you gestured to the kitten purring loudly from the carrier as she rubbed against the side.

“We should get her inside. She’s the second main event after all.” Floki chuckled and nodded in agreement.

The marquee was still heaving with the celebrations but you and Floki headed to the cottage just set amongst some trees. It was where you and others had got ready. Your stuff would have been moved from the cottage and put in your rooms in the main building but you couldn’t resist flirting about and straightening things up. Moving the champagne to beside the bed, spreading out the rose petals a bit more and moving the suitcases so they weren’t in the way. As you drew out the hanger for Kat’s dress the main door opened and they spilled in fresh from the dance floor, all giggles and rosy faces. Kat saw you first and threw her arms around you.

“I’m gonna tell him,” she whispered and you hugged her back tightly. “It feels right.”

“It does,” you breathed back.

“Eiginkonu.” You turned Kat around and pushed her towards Björn. “I have a gift for you.” She nearly screamed, hands over her mouth as she danced on the spot while Floki carefully extracted the kitten.

“Oh my gods, she is gorgeous!!” Kat exclaimed and tears began to well in her eyes as the kitten snuggled in her arms. “Oh Björn!”

“Faðir.” You helped the door open just in time to hear your friend say she had something to tell Björn before you closed it, leaving them to their bliss.

“So the others know about me and Hvitserk.”

“Yes, I know, litla hrafn. I think you and Hvitserk were the last ones to know.”

“That just makes me feel stupid,” you moaned but Floki shook his head.

“You needed the time to come to the realisation yourselves or it never would have worked.” He paused at the entrance, the flashing lights dancing over his form and you felt that telltale sinking feeling in your gut.

“You’re going to leave now.”

“I am, Dóttir.”

“It never gets any easier,” you sniffled. Floki drew you in, rubbing circles on your back as he comforted you, murmuring all the while about how much he loved and missed you but he just couldn’t stay in one place. After a few minutes he turned you round and deposited you in a pair of arms you knew so well. Burying yourself into his chest as the emotions took over. You felt happy because today had been amazing but at the same time you felt sad and confused about changing your plans last minute.

Hvitserk spoke to Floki as he held you, his voice rumbling through his chest but you didn’t want to listen to what was being said, only noticing the way Floki’s touch left your shoulder and you knew he’d gone. You were barely aware of being led inside the main building, Hvitserk guiding you into the quiet of a dark room and making you lay down with him.

He cradled you close, letting you wring yourself dry until drowsiness took over. He brushed the hair out of your now peaceful face. He knew what pressure you’d been under with work, looking after him and helping him slowly get back into work. He owed you everything, his entire life if he was honest. He couldn’t imagine never seeing your face again or hearing your voice, experiencing your touch and all of that kept him here. It tethered him, grounded him to keep fighting and never give into those urges again.

As he rocked you gently he fished around in his pocket and drew out a small box. Flicking the lid open he held it up to the lamp light, admiring the way the light fractured on the facets of the diamond he had purchased for you. Ravens of white gold held the gem, wings spread to join onto the band that would one day sit on your finger. He wanted nothing more than to give it to you but it never felt right. Snapping the box closed he buried it once more in his pocket, snuggling down with you and telling himself the time would come soon.

#vantalaður ást #at last #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x f!reader #hvitserk x you #ivar x f!reader #modern ivar x reader #modern hvitserk x reader #modern ivar #modern hvitserk #modern au #vikings modern au

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author-morgan · 1 year ago

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im so so curious about this plan of yours to rewrite seasons 5 and 6 with Harald and an OC. would you mind sharing another snippet? 🥺

oh, yes. so, i've been throwing around this idea for about 2 years now and have written blurbs here and there (really don't have much time due to Ph.D. life to sit down and start to fully flesh this out yet), but essentially i dislike what Hirst did to Harald in those last two seasons. so i want to give Harald a proper chance at love with a good wife (and queen).

my OC is Ragnhild the Mighty, based on one of his wives in the sagas who 'he loved above all others.' she's got a reputation (how else would she earn the epithet, Mighty) and is just as ambitious as he is when it comes to getting a crown and kingdom so it makes them quite a pair and force to reckon with.

the general synopsis is Harald and Ragnhild first meet in York (5b) and agree to raid and war against Alfred and co., but it becomes clear that the gods led them to one another for a reason, and not eager to part ways, she returns to Norway with him and Björn to fight Ivar. then it roughly adheres to the general events of the show (election, Rus invasion, etc.), but ofc has some unexpected spins here and there (and lest we forget, she is the mother of Eric Bloodaxe too).

but here's another snippet of them on the eve of the battle of meretun:

“Indeed,” Harald breathes, his thoughts straying to his brother, to his princess. Both are dead in the cold iron earth now because of his doing. “But we are all blood and bone and spirit. Imperfect” —he lays his hand over hers— “and perfect as we are.” Ragnhild looks at him and wonders if he feels the same invisible flame—the same spark of strange magic—when their flesh touches. She shifts then without a word, swinging herself over his outstretched legs, perching on his lap. Her hands capture both sides of his face, thumbs following the fading blue-black ink of his tattoos and over the scar cutting across one of his cheeks. Her brother’s words echo loudly in her mind: he can make you a queen. Harald’s breath catches as he beholds her—the perfect woman—and a new softness appears in his livid eyes. “Ragnhild?” Her name is a soft, disbelieving whisper. Placing her palm over the restless pounding of his heart, Ragnhild leans toward him, stopping just when her nose brushes his, breaths mingling. “It is a cold night,” she echoes, the words dancing across his cheek and bearded jaw.

#sierra replies #Harald #Harald Finehair #King Harald #King Harald Finehair #Harald Finehair x OC #King Harald x OC #Harald x OC #Ragnhild the Mighty #Harald x Ragnhild #Vikings #story: Saga #OC: Ragnhild the Mighty #my writing #'The seer did not say it would be Jutland’s crown.' her brother said and he's RIGHT #hail the first queen of all norway #and lbr here Harald is a simp and for him it was love at first sight

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justanoasisimagines · 2 months ago

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Heroes versus Villians October Event

Hey lovelies, throughout the month of October, I'll be posting twice a day for a hero and a Villian. Below is the list of what's going to be posted.

1st October - Neville Longbottom (Blurb) & Aemond Targaryen (Blurb) 2nd October - Podrick Payne (Blurb) & Victor Zsasz (Gotham) 3rd October - Elijah Mikealson (Drabble) & Charles Vane (Headcanon) 4th October - Steve Rogers (Love Letter) & Clay Morrow (Love Letter) 5th October - Neal "Baelfire" Cassidy (Headcanon) & Phillip Graves (Headcanon) 6th October - Alex Keller (Love Letter) & Rollo (Blurb) 7th October - Harwin Strong (Headcanon) & Ramsay Bolton (Drabble) 8th October - Bruce Wayne (Drabble) & Kraven the Hunter (Headcanon) 9th October - Aethelred (Drabble) & Tom Riddle (Blurb) 10h October - Captain James Flint (Blurb) & Niklaus Mikealson (Headcanon) 11th October - Daryl Dixon (Blurb) & Negan (Headcanon) 12th October - Viktor Krum (Blurb) & George "Digger" Harkness (Drabble) 13th October - Captain John Price (Headcanon) & Cormac McLaggen (Drabble) 14th October - David Hale (Drabble) & Gaston (Drabble) 15th October - Clint Barton (Headcanon) & Aegon II Targaryen (Drabble) 16th Drabble - Gwayne Hightower (Blurb) & Miguel Galindo (Love Letter) 17th October - Adrian Chase (Blurb) & The Joker *Heath Ledger" (Love Letter) 18th October - The Beast (Headcanon) & Vladimir Makarov (Headcanon) 19th October - Alden (Love Letter) & Ceasar Martinez (Drabble) 20th October - Stefan Salvatore (Drabble) & John Walker (Headcanon) 21st October - Johnny "Coco" Cruz (Blurb) & Ivar the Boneless (Blurb) 22nd October - August Wayne Booth (Love Letter) & Troy Otto (Blurb) 23rd October - Ragnar Lothbrok (Blurb) & Damon Salvatore (Headcanon) 24th October - Theon Greyjoy (Love Letter) & Rumplestiltskin (Love Letter) 25th October - Bucky Barnes (Headcanon) & Criston Cole (Drabble) 26th October - Rick Flag (Love Letter) & Koing (Love Letter) 27th October - Simon "Ghost" Riley (Love Letter) & Killian Jones (Drabble) 28th October - Dewey Riley (Headcanon) & Billy Loomis (Blurb) 29th October - John Dorie (Drabble) & Viserys Targaryen (Drabble) 30th October - Matthias Helvar (Love Letter) & Baron Helmut Zemo (Blurb) 31st October - Robert "Bob" Floyd (Blurb) & Stu Macher (Headcanon)

#Heroes versus Villians #Halloween event 2024

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deepwoodmotte2 · 4 months ago

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hi guys!!! banner post dropping now!!

welcome to deepwood motte (2)! this is my side blog dedicated entirely to asoiaf, got/hotd, and vikings!! if you don’t follow me on @krillmorrissey (my 11 year old 45,000 post deep main) you might not know these fun facts!

- i’m a 21 year old college student double majoring in studio art and history

- i use she/her pronouns

- i write for asoiaf and affiliated shows as well as vikings and its affiliate universes!!

- i really prioritize writing neutral or non-white readers; seven hundred white ocs named aemma velaryon works for some people, but i am diverse and want to be diverse! send in ideas! PLEASE! (i am latinx and indigenous to turtle island - i can best write similar ((or those)) perspectives, but am always willing to try!)

anyway!! welcome :) my masterlist will be dropping soon, as will these fics:

- ivar the boneless x reader (arranged marriage au, short blurb)

- cregan stark x reader (lady Mormont! reader, fix-it fic of sorts?)

- brandon the builder x first people! reader (dream sequence, through the lens of a later stark i haven’t decided on yet. maybe also a werewolf element to this but unclear. warging!)

in the meantime, you can search my writing on this blog under #vi’s writing !! I also reblog any recommended fics under #vi’s fic library

if you have any ideas or requests, please send them in!! i won’t write anything illegal or excessively violent, beyond first-cousin marriage or other GOT accurate things like targaryen marriages. there might be smut, and if there is, i’ll tag it and put warnings.

TERFS are not welcome here, and as always, Free Palestine, Free Cuba, and free all oppressed peoples. best! via

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fictionfromafar · 2 years ago

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Trouble by Katja Ivar

Trouble

By Katja Ivar

Bitter Lemon Press

Publication Date: 19 January 2023

I found Trouble to be a captivating story set in Helsinki which is placed during a fascinating historical era offering an exciting blend of mystery, intrigue with some cloak and dagger brinkmanship. The novel works entertains as a thriller, but it also is a very informative story which tells you much about the situation in Finland at the time it was set. During the post-war period memories of Finland’s war with the Soviet Union in an attempt to reclaim lost territory placed them on the same side as the Axis forces. Having assumed a neutral status since the war, this left the country in an uncomfortable proximity to a country which occupied one sixth of the earth’s surface during a period of change.

Despite having not read the two preceding novels in the Hella Mauzer series: Evil Things and Deep Is Death, I found it did not take long to learn enough of Hella Mauzer’s to be able to follow this story. Still haunted by the death of her family, Hella is short of work as a private investigator when her former police chief contacts her for what appears to be a fairly simple task. She is asked to look into the background of a secret service member named Heikkinen before he is offered a future senior role in the police forces. While it seems a straightforward task, she is told a few concerning facts about Heikkinen which the authorities believe warrants further investigation. Hella Mauzer agrees to undertake the work in exchange for access to the police files into the death of her family. The story that follows combines the protagonist’s investigation into both cases.

Perhaps unusually for a modern crime thriller the focus remains on Hella Mauzer throughout the story as she looks into her father’s back history and connections, while initially giving appearances of following due diligence in exploring some of the events that have occurred in Heikkinen’s life. Not everything is as it seems, but Hella is once again able to try to take advantage of what she discovers. Trouble also is very enlightening about the uneasy cooperation between leaders of the Finnish armed forces and their counterparts in Nazi Germany. While I did find there were perhaps a couple of fortunate memories and coincidences that arise, where would any investigation be without a degree of luck?

The well-travelled author was born in Moscow before being raised in the USA and I look forward to exploring her earlier novels and indeed whatever she looks to write next.

Trouble is available now:

The blurb:

A Nordic Noir of the first-order set in Helsinki in 1953. A dark political thriller at the heart of the Cold War; a novel about ruthless ambition and betrayal, but also about the challenges of being a single professional woman in post war Europe. Helsinki, June 1953, at the heart of the Cold War. Hella, now a reluctant private investigator, has been asked by her former boss at the Helsinki murder squad to do a background check on a member of the Finnish secret services. Not the type of job Hella was hoping for, but she accepts it on the condition that she is given access to the files concerning the roadside death of her father in 1942, at a time when Finland joined forces with Nazi Germany in its attack against the Soviet Union. German troops were sent to Finland, the Gestapo arrived in Helsinki and German influence on local government was strong, including demands for the deportation of local Jews. Colonel Mauzer, his wife and other family members were killed by a truck in a hit and run incident. An accident, file closed, they said. But not for Hella, whose unwelcome investigation leads to some who would prefer to see her stopped dead in her tracks.

About the author:

Katja Ivar grew up in Russia and the U.S. She travelled the world extensively, from Almaty to Ushuaia, from Karelia to Kyushu. She now lives in Washington, DC with her husband and three children. Katja received a B.A. in Linguistics and a master's degree in Contemporary History from Sorbonne University.

Many thanks to Bitter Lemon Press for an advance copy of Trouble and to Anne Cater for inclusion on the blog tour. Please check out the other reviews of this book on the blog tour as shown below:

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pomegranates-and-blood · 2 years ago

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I've recently found your blog and your stories but I'm already obsessed with your Ivar content, the Nostalgia fanfic is SO good 🛐 and I'm looking forward to the next update, which makes me wonder if you're still working on it or just. did you quit? I hadn't noticed the last update date 🥺.

Hello nonnie!

Thank you so much for your kind words, I am so happy to hear you like my work, especially Nostalgia since I'll always have a soft spot for it 🥺

The last update (speaking strictly of the chapters, not Winter Blurbs) was somewhere around June of 2021 I think 😔

I love the universe and characters of Nostalgia, and I do have plans of finishing it at some point, but for one I am struggling with motivation to write and delving into other fandosm/characters right now so it's quite difficult to face Nostalgia atm, and secondly, since I left for so long I want to have the ~5 chapters that are left done before posting any.

Thank you again for your kind words, for giving my work a chance and for sending such a lovely message! Sending you my love! 😘

#answered asks #νοσταλγία asks

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hecohansen31 · 4 years ago

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(Last one I’m SORRY!!) could I bug you for some #31 of the baby prompts with Ivar??🥰🥺❤️

WARNINGS: Mention of Pain/Cheesy Short

Kissing little one where they got hurt to make the pain go away.

You looked up to your child, as he went over to your husband, Ivar, safely hidden by the blankets of your shared bed.

He had woken up with his legs sore.

Pain being emitted from them all over his body.

Something that wasn’t unusual, since pain had been his fellow lover for so much time, before you came along.

You had been worried, but he had reassured you that sleep and herbs would have made him feel better by night, suggesting that you and your newborn baby, Floki, went on a small trip to the market, since he didn’t want to be seen like that by you and him.

‘I don’t want to leave you alone, my love’ you had protested ‘… what if something happens, meanwhile I am gone?’.

‘I’ll have a few thralls to check on me and soon Hvitserk will come to discuss some matters about the raids we have planned for the next summer…’ you hadn’t looked much convinced, so he had gently moved to caress your face ‘… nothing will happen to me, my love, it is just a bit of pain, I am used to it’.

‘I wish you weren’t’ you simply muttered, before pecking lightly his lips, as you told your child to get himself dressed, but he had heard your talk with his father and now he was close to Ivar, meanwhile you put on your shoes.

Ivar tried to fake his best a smile on his face, as his little scoundrel of a son, moved down to get in bed with him.

You almost shot forward to tell him to leave his father alone so he could rest, but before you could, you witnessed something rather cute happening.

Your child gently moved to kiss Ivar’s legs, delicately.

And then mumble in that high-pitched childish voice of his:

“Mom always gives me kisses where it hurts and they always make me feel better” he explained as Ivar’s eyes became full-blow by surprise, before softening as he hugged the boy close to himself, thanking him for ‘his precious help’.

“I am already feeling better” he commented softly, ruffling his hair “… now get a breath of fresh air with your mother and then we’ll play a bit, when you are back”.

---

Everything Taglist:

@maggiescarborough

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Ivar Taglist:

@youbloodymadgenius, @alexhandersenx, @peaceisadirtyword, @a-mess-of-fandoms (I have decided to start tagging asks with my usual taglist, and I hope you won’t mind it, but if you do, obviously just let me know and I’ll delete you from the taglist) (I hope I am not bothering you!)

---

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#Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #IVar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Fluff #Ivar Fluff #Ivar Ask #Ivar Drabble #Ivar Blurb #ivar moodboard #Ivar The Boneless Moodboard #Vikings #History Vikings #Vikings Imagine

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jadelynlace · 1 year ago

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A Slice of Lime, Please⎮Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]⎮Deleted Scene

read more Ink Drinker here

Author's Note: With the general time line of this blurb, and the video I saw earlier, I've concocted this piece. And trust me, I was grinning like an idiot the whole day at the station as I kept going back to this. This is a much lighter piece over the angst of the next blurb coming. I said what I said.

It’s sweaty bodies, music a bit too loud for your liking, and the general wave of the patterns voices as eye swatch the game on the screen. They pull out quietly, only to round up their decibels a moment later. You agreed to the night out when you were in much better spirits and now you’re following through with it all and you hate it.

These are the moments you loathe—being out with nothing to show for the fact that you and Ivar are together. Except, you’re not. To keep the bubbling beast of Ivar’s anxiety at bay, but you would go to the ends of the earth if you thought it would help him.

Sometimes, you wonder if anyone knows; every so often you catch Hvitserk looking at you for a second more than what seems appropriate. And rather than question it, you let him sit in his own unease with whatever it is he’s searching for. Right now, it’s his expression as he watches you, watch another woman offering to buy Ivar a shot.

You watch this woman undress him with her eyes, pulling the black tee from where it’s tucked to reveal the ink on his chest, the muscles you traced your nails over that morning. How she brings her pupils up and down and wonders if his size matches with what she’s looking at. You have half a mind to tell her that it does. You wonder if she wants to know about his interest, his quirks, or if she just wants to look at him. Instead, you look back at Hvitserk and raise your brows; if you’re going to have a feeling, it better be towards something you can handle.

“What?” You ask Hvitserk and he shakes his head.

“Nothing, nothing,” He lies and you narrow your eyes.

“Hvitty?” You then ask. “Hvitserk,” You demand.

“Y/N, it’s nothing,” He then tells you and you can see he’s starting to dig the hole.

“You’ve been doing that for the last week,” You grumble.

“It’s just…” Hvitserk starts.

“Yeah, a slice of lime, please,” You hear Ivar say to the bar tender.

“On the rig check yesterday…” Hvitserk starts.

“Hey, brother,” Ivar snaps his fingers behind him, “No work talk. No firefighter stuff,” And Ivar turns back around.

“I’m trying to tell something to my partner,” Hvitserk says, placing a very careful emphasis on how he speaks.

“Are you having a stroke?” Ivar tries.

The woman follows, two shots, two lime slices, and she hands Ivar’s respective parts to him.

“No, I’m not,” Hvitserk snaps.

“Well, you’re about to,” Ivar says and he takes the lime slice—and much more quickly than you anticipate from his large hands—shoves the rind between your lips. Without a word to the other woman he tosses the shot back, his neck snapping backwards before his hands reach to your cheeks as he pulls you forward, sucking the lime from between your lips.

You feel your heart stop, your body moves with how Ivar dictates, and Hvitserk doesn’t miss the way you close your eyes, or the way both yours, and Ivar’s beings deflate. He tries so very hard to hide the smile that comes over his lips and he fails. But, he doesn’t quite care.

The moment you feel Ivar slowly pulls back, your eyes open quickly, widely as they watch his slowly open.

“Oops,” He tries, “Must have mixed you two up…” He says so that only you can hear it, bastardly smirk on his lips. “Is she still there?” Ivar adds, louder.

“Nope,” Hvitserk states. “And for the record, Ivar, cardiac arrest is the correct medical term. That wouldn’t cause a stroke,”

“It wouldn’t?” Ivar tries, “Oh, I guess that’s why you majored in para-medicine and I majored in mathematics,”

You spit the lime out into your hand and hand it to Ivar, who only offers you a wink.

“Can’t be surprised by what you already know,” Hvitserk sings.

Tags:

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

#vikings #vikings au #modern vikings #ivar au #ivar #modern vikings au #modern ivar #vikings fiction #ivar lothbrok #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )#hvitserk #hvitserk au #modern hvitserk #modern hvitserk au

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spacemilkies · 7 years ago

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Thirsty Thursday will still be going, but I just needed to roll through this first. Not a request, just the pain in my side that is Ivar. I just wanted an excuse to play with darker themes. This is not Far Cry, but Vikings writing.

When you fall in love with him, it’s decidedly too late. It was as if fate decided to subject you to eternity of misgivings for your stupidity. Or perhaps it was naivety. How despite the bruises molded by fingertips never seemed to leave your skin, always refreshed before they could properly fade. Everyday the window of opportunity to escape closed a little more until it was completely shut to your access- not that you ever glanced its way.

So when you finally accept that your turmoil is based on a sick rendition of stockholm syndrome, it dawns on you like the pearly gates of a sealed prison. The term ‘broken’ is the mantra he carried like a tattoo his entire life. He is the embodiment of the word, even know as he finds his strength- broken, soulless is the monster within.

His teeth claw into your spirit, fingertips manipulating the beat of your heart until it aligns with him. It’s really something when you can’t even trust the thrumming organ keeping you alive, or maybe your acceptance is its last gift of promise to you before the end.

Tightening the shade above your eyes, you resist the urge to shudder as the bed shifts beside you. He’s sensitive to that, cognitive of your every thought, motive and action. Even subconscious avoidance is a wall of defense soon to be crumbled.

He’s at the top now, a reigning success despite his past. The epitome of the Seerer’s vision brought to life- hell tethered to the world of the living. There is no one left to stand in his way. Not that it mattered, he’s already filled your head with moss and threatened your veins with poison. Why would anyone sacrifice themselves for someone who could never truly be saved? Why subject themselves with torture when he already satisfied with you.

“ If you’re simply going to lie there the least you could do is make yourself useful in one aspect of your life,” His articulation is a dichotomy of impatience and cruelty. Yet you find humor in the ironic testament of the life he once lived. A twitch of laughter splits your lips, letting the sound wafts into the room. It’s toneless but recognizable for what it is.

The bed shifts further and you can feel the heat of him permeating the air around you. For now the taste of it is bemused, tinged with irritation, but curious nonetheless. Not that you analyzed the breakdown of your slip up.

It’s uncertain if it is inquisitiveness or obedience that invites you to open your eyes, but you bite down on the urge until blood bubbles in retaliation. You know what he looks like, how he feels, the way he tastes. Yet he remains as indescribable as those haunting blue eyes that stare down the world. He thrives for acceptance, yet scraps the hides of his enemies in vengeance. He’s inconsolable, unstable, every space between his heart beats like seconds of a clock until detonation.

The slow trickle leaking at your apex is dismissible to your conscious, a simple adaptive reaction you’ve gained over the years as another layer of protection. It hums to the tune of him slotting himself between your thighs, parting them in forced invitation.

“Tell me pet, what is it that you find so funny that prompts laughter from those sweet lips?” A mouth stained with honey, he claims. Viscous and tantalizing, a treat from the gods- you were their sacrifice after all.

His lips are at your throat, slicing along the column of your throat with the same cold steelness of his blade. It’s news to you how painful it can be to resist the instinct to swallow around nothing. But you don’t want to attract the beast with a viable target with his weapons already so close. The timer is ticking firmer, mimicking the sound of your own heartbeat now- a pity given how quickly it speeds up the clock.

“Speak when your king requests it if you, wife.”

You wonder how much pain is involved with death, surely you’ve come close now?

The sound of your voice is unrecognizable, the threads of sleep more familiar than the crack of it. “Just you … my love. Should a king not bring happiness and contentment to his subjects?”

He’s humming, thinking, and calculating, tongue darting out to wet thick lips. A jumbled mess of war tools thrown haphazardly in the toy box of his mind. So much time as a child, just sitting there and festering on the future.

Yet as you defy the sight of him so much time has passed and you’re still alive. How long will it be until you’re breathless? Either withered from exertion or the force of his hand knocking you back. Perhaps both.

Maybe he’s waiting on a more appealing answer, you’re reminded by the snoozed warning. The reason, your response, his question; they’re all useless, just a paperweight in time to provoke space. Your lips are pressing hard against the shape of his mouth, chased by muscle memory rather than sight. He grunts in surprise despite seeing it coming. You’d forgotten again about the essence between your legs until his knee adjusts against it, spreading the tackiness of it against your inner thigh.

“I know what you’re doing.”

As always. More receptive to your own actions than yourself. The edge of his voice is less noticeable, drowned out by slide against his hard body. His entire integrity is stable, an ironic perception given the hitch in his step when he walks.

Hands slide up the length of your arms to curve at the slope of your shoulders. A groan his bleeds into his mouth as his fingers curl in, nails biting moon crescents into the skin beneath them. Is it shameful to prefer it over the phantom grip around your throat?

“Do you crave the darkness now?” His words whisper against your eyelids, and you find reprieve in the way his hands seek out a new target. Their journey is short, reacting in tandem with his thigh spreading yours further apart as he spears your heat with two digits. The move is with efficiency rather than exploration, testing the compliance of your inner walls before jerking free. It feels rudimentary, like checking off a item on a list before moving on to the next.

His hands are at your thighs now, gripping them firmly as he rocks forward. Your whimper is lost to his own laughter as the head of his cock glides along your slit. It’s as if he’s waiting, following the cycle of air in your lungs for the right moment to take you, the force of his motive choking you mid exhale.

You can hear his lips curl back, feel his teeth glinting down with a premise of promise- a threat. “Such a pretty, pliant little wife they call you,” he recalls as he sheathes himself to the hilt. “Complimentary words for a whore.”

His cadence draws you back and forth against the sheets, creating friction despite the softness. He’s rough but not unhinged as you’ve dealt with in the past.

“I should show them the marks on your knees. Burned raw from way you crawl to me. Bruised from the weight of your body as you feast on my cock.”

You’re quiet no longer, stifling a stream of dry sobs as hips slap against your own. The sound of it is salacious, dirtied by his words as he carves another layer from your soul. It’s the sharp snap of him meeting you that brings you pain, surely reddened past the tint of the setting sun. His body is taut, stretched despite unrelenting muscle as he dominates what is his.

“You’re just a princess, not worthy enough to be their queen,” he purrs. Your voice is shattered into too many fragments for speech not that you have anything in the line up.

You drip around him as he fills you, unbothered by the question of whether it’s post-orgasm or pre-lubrication, the hypersensitivity is untelling as he pulls free. It rolls down the curve of your body in thick droplets, the stain of it sure to irritate you further into the night.

Not once, not even as he rolls off of you do you open your eyes. It’s a pointless notion at this point when he’s already invaded all your senses until there there is nothing but him.

His voice tumbled out from his side of the bed, lips tilted with humor. “It’s a shame that my mother wasn’t there to call you out on your pathetic nature. Or perhaps this was her prophecy from the beginning. The Boneless and the Worthless.”

#ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson imagine #vikings writing #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar lothbrok blurb

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starboyreggie · 7 years ago

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A Princess and A Pagan

A Princess and a Pagan: The Beginning of the Betrayal

Part Two // Part Three

Word Count: 1708

Pairing: Hvitserk x Adelaide (OC)

Summary: The Northmen have entered East Anglia, and the king of West Anglia has taken precautions to make sure they will not harm his kingdom. However, Ragnar has not only asked for richest, but also for the young Princess’s hand in marriage.

Warnings: Viking slander

Requested: nope, I just wanted to write for my man

Masterlist

// I do not own any characters or themes except for Adelaide and her family. This work of fiction is heavily based on History’s Vikings. However, in this piece, the sons of Ragnar are older much earlier and all travel with him to Europe. //

It was a warm spring day with the sun shining down from the sky on the kingdom of West Anglia. The birds were singing outside the window their sweet morning song. Adelaide stretched her arms to her sides and she hummed to herself when she felt the sun’s warm rays on her face. Looking out the opening, she smiled to herself thinking about the day’s activities.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock filled her room. Adelaide called for her visitor to enter, knowing it was her servant, Milla. Her brown hair was pulled into a high bun as it usually was, and she carried a dress in her arms.

“Good morning, Milla.” Adelaide murmured as her voice was rough from her long night's sleep. Milla was one of younger servants her father had. She was only 29 years old, and she started working for the King of West Anglia when she was 14 years old.

“Good morning to you too, Princess Adelaide. How was your rest?” Milla inquired. She placed the dress at the foot of Adelaide’s bed and watched as she stepped out of the bed.

“It was interrupted many times during the night by soldiers running down the hall,” Adelaide’s eyebrows scrunched together as she approached her servant, “Do you know anything about that?”

Adelaide sat down at her mirror and watched as Milla approached her. Milla sighed as she reached for the hairbrush on the table, “The Northmen are in East Anglia and might be heading west. There is to be no worry though because your father has started to prepare.”

Adelaide couldn’t help but worry. What would happen if those pagans came to her home? She had complete faith in her God and father that she would be protected. She had heard of some of the terrors that followed these Northmen. They were giant men with even bigger weapons who were rumored to eat Christian children for dinner after they had destroyed villages and bathe in Saxon blood.

She shuddered at the thought of those pigs being in her kingdom. Milla saw the distress on her princess’s features and quickly finished brushing her hair. She ushered Adelaide out of the chair and over to the foot of the bed, “Let’s forget about that for now and get you dressed for the day.”

Adelaide slipped out of the silk slip she had slept in. Goosebumps arose on her skin as the cold morning air hit her skin. She stepped into the red dress as Milla walked around her to tie the back. Adelaide looked in the floor length mirror and took in her appearance. The dress was a deep red color with a high collar and red lace sleeves. The material was tight until it reached her waist where it became loose and flowy.

Once Milla had completely tied the back of the dress, she walked back in front of Adelaide. She ran her hands down her sides, smoothing the dress down. Milla grabbed some of Adelaide’s naturally wavy hair and placed it in front, “You are so beautiful, my Princess.”

“Thank you, Milla,” Adelaide warmly smiled, “Did my father give you any specific instructions for me?”

Milla placed her hand on the small of Adelaide’s back as she guided her to the door, “Just for you to meet him for breakfast as soon as you awoke.”

Adelaide nodded her head and dismissed Milla when they reached her chamber’s door. On the way to the dining room, she noticed a surplus of guards posted around the castle. She brushed it off and blamed the Northmen’s presence in East Anglia for the increase of soldiers.

She reached the dining room and her father, mother, and older brother was already there. The room got eerily quiet as she approached the table. “Good morning, father,” Adelaide leaned down over her father’s shoulder and gave him a kiss on his cheek as she greeted him.

King Coel smiled at his little girl as she took her seat, “I hoped you slept well, sweetheart.”

“I did, father,” Adelaide took a sip from her cup before continuing, “Why were the guards so restless last night?” No one answered her as her mother looked at her with a sad look.

“What? Is there something wrong? I know about the pagans in East Anglia.” Adelaide started to panic as her brother just stared at their father, waiting for him to speak.

“Princess,” her father began before he was interrupted by the dining room’s door being slammed open. Everyone’s eyes snapped over to the noise. Adelaide was the last one to react as her back was to the door. She turned in her seat to see three giants standing and one on the floor in the doorway.

The one in the middle, who seemed to be the leader as he was the biggest, had a long braid of hair going down his back with the sides shaved and a thick beard that went down to the bottom of his neck. The other three men were smaller but still huge. To the left of the largest man, was what seemed to be the next oldest and he had the same shaven sides but the hair on top was much shorter; on the other side of the leader, was a man with blonde hair that was braided but nowhere as long as the other two. Next to the blonde was the man on the floor, and he had the shortest hair of all the men and it wasn’t braided.

The three men started to walk toward the table as the last dragged himself. The leader took the seat to the left of Adelaide’s father as he was at the head of the table. Her mother was to his right, her brother beside the queen, and Adelaide beside him. The second oldest took the seat next to the leader and the cripple next to him. The blonde sat to Adelaide right and she flinched as his eyes scanned her.

Adelaide scooted closer to her brother and looked to her father with confusion etched on her face. The king looked apologetic as he sighed and looked at the people that had just joined the table. Adelaide’s brother, Nikolas, took her hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

King Coel cleared his throat, “Princess, I would like to introduce you to Ragnar, Ubbe, Ivar, and Hvitserk.” Her father pointed to each as he said their name. Adelaide smiled at each one as she made eye contact with them to show that she was friendly since she didn’t think they could speak her language, “I am Adelaide,” she enunciated, making sure to speak slowly and point to herself when she said her name. The men seemed to understand as they nodded in response.

“Father, what are they doing here?” Adelaide said in a happy tone so not set off any alarms in the visitors’ heads.

“We are here because your father asked us to negotiate a deal,” Ragnar spoke to her. Adelaide’s smile dropped immediately as she was shocked to understand his words. She looked around to the younger men to see their reactions to her question. They were watching carefully but didn’t seem like they heard what she said specifically.

“My sons cannot understand you. I am the only one here that can speak your language.” Ragnar confirmed as Adelaide shook her head.

“Ragnar here has agreed not to raid nor kill any of our people in the kingdom,” the King had paused to let the good news settle in.

Adelaide smiled at Ragnar, “Thank you, and what have you asked of us in return?”

Your father rushed to answer, “We are to pay them a sum in gold and silver annually.” Adelaide nodded, the deal seems fair to her. There was no price for safety, but that appeared to be a reasonable deal. She wondered how much the pagans wanted because as just as it seemed, she knew it was too good to be true.

“Your father has also given us your hand in marriage,” Ragnar spoke, and Adelaide heard the venom drip from his words as an evil smirk appeared on his face. He was clearly looking for a reaction out of Adelaide and she couldn’t help but give him one.

The blood drained from the princess’s body, and her body ran cold. She was having a hard time breathing as her gaze turned to her father. He had a look of pity on his face directed toward her. The king didn’t say anything as he allowed Ragnar’s words to sink in.

Adelaide's mouth was slightly open as if she wanted to speak, but no words came out. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that her father had sold her to these pagans. And for what? For the Northmen not to attack them? They hadn’t made any advances toward West Anglia, so there was no need for this deal. Her father had jumped the gun with this alliance. He hadn’t even tried to fight. The king was protecting the kingdom when it wasn’t in any danger yet.

Adelaide started to blink rapidly as her vision started to blur. She didn’t know if it was anger or betrayal that controlled her body at this point. Her mother had constantly reassured her that she would be able to approve her husband, that she would be happy and marry into love.

She looked at her mother and she refused to look at Adelaide. Adelaide looked around the table and the Northmen were all staring at her, drinking her reaction. She started to feel tears sting in her eyes, but she was determined to not let these pigs see her cry. Adelaide quickly blinked them away as she choked, “Who?”

“My eldest unwed son, Hvitserk,” He stated proudly as he nodded toward the blonde next to Adelaide. She slowly turned her head to face Hvitserk. He was already looking at her with a dark look in his eyes. Adelaide gulped a large lump that had formed in the back of her throat.

“I hope that this was worth it, father.” She spoke with hatred laced in her tone as she kept eye contact with Hvitserk.

A/N: ahhhh! This is my first piece as a multi-fandom blog, so it had to be my man Hvitserk. This will be a long fic and the other parts will be longer and may get smutter. Also, I decided to give the protagonist a name, Adelaide Coel. She is physically based on Mary of Scots from Reign but only physically. I hope yall enjoy this! I am really nervous about posting this, so leave me some feedback!

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