Author’s note: I’ve had this in my drafts for so long. I’ve edited the ending like a million times. It’s my first Hvitserk story, I hope you guys enjoy ! Also I really need to start posting at a decent time. Someone yell at me please.
Summary: Caring doesn’t always mean sharing.
Masterlist
Small kisses peppered Y/N’s face as she lay asleep. Her nose scrunched up like a rabbit’s and all she could hear was the low echo of laughter, laughter that she recognized all too well. Her eyes shot open and there she saw him, her Hvitserk. She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck “YOU’RE BACK !” She called out. Her lips landing harshly on his.
“You weren’t at the docks” he mumbled into her mouth. His smile never once faltering. Hvitserk had been on a raid with his brothers and their arrival had been delayed. His eyes shone bright as he stared at Y/N’s messy hair and bunched up dress.
She pulled back, sitting on her knees as she smoothed out her dress, staring at him. “I must have fallen asleep,” she mumbled with a frown. She suddenly shot up and ran across her room “I was tired from making these !” She yelled as she bent over, looking through woven baskets. She pulled out a small container and jumped back on her bed beside Hvitserk, who was simply staring at her in awe. His eyes filled with curiosity and his lips curled up into an amused smirk. “Well,” she insisted as she shoved the now open container in his direction. Hvitserk seemed star struck, in awe of his kind-of-girlfriend’s beauty. She saw his hesitation and rolled her eyes as she grabbed one of the treats from the container and shoved it in his mouth. Hvitserk chewed, wary at first and then he leaned over and grabbed another, then another. Y/N’s giggles filled the house as she saw him enjoy the treats. “You’re going to give yourself a stomach ache my prince” shoving the container aside, she shook her head in mock disapproval.
Hvitserk chuckled and leaned forward, gently moving a strand of hair behind her ear as he whispered “I can never eat enough of your sweet treats,” in a low rumble. Her cheeks immediately went pink and she hit his shoulder as he collapsed back on her bed with laughter. This is how they were comfortable. They played and flirted and slept together, but Hvitserk had never officially made her his and Y/N was too scared to push him. She knew he sometimes shared his brother's wife, and it made her blood boil. But she put up with it because at the end of the night he always came to her. Margrethe was not the nicest person. She didn’t mind being shared but she did not like sharing. In her mind Hvitserk was hers just as much as Ubbe was. She made it known to Y/N that she did not like her. Around the boys however, she was as sweet as the treats Y/N baked.
He stared at the ceiling, enjoying the warmth of her laughter and the sweet smell of her home. He felt her curl beside him, she said something and Hvitserk was pulled out of his thoughts when she called his name “Huh?” He turned to look at her.
She rolled her eyes and smiled, “I said. Do you think Ubbe would like some?”
A sliver of anger ran through his veins as he heard his brothers name come out of her lips. “Some?” He grunted as he looked back up at her ceiling.
He felt her warm breath on his neck as she slowly moved her lips up to his ear. Oh how she had missed him. “Some of my sweet treats” her tone was playful. She knew that her words could be misinterpreted, but she would never betray Hvitserk like that. She loved him and only him. That didn’t mean she didn’t like when he got possessive over her.
“I’m sure he’d loved to try your sweets” his body quickly moving to pin hers down. His hands holding her wrists above her and his lips glued on her neck “too bad they’re only for me to have” a low growl escaped his lips, now on her jaw. She moved her head to the side and found his lips with hers. She could feel his anger melt away with every nibble of his bottom lip and every smack of their mouths.
“Tell me of your raid” pulling back from him, she looked into his eyes with wonder. She had never been much of a warrior. When she started fooling around with Hvitserk, he tried to show her some defensive moves, as a way of holding her close to him and pinning her on the floor, but she didn’t mind. Even Ivar had tried, but she was a hopeless klutz.
Hvitserk collapsed on his back and pulled her to his chest, wrapping an arm around her, holding her as close to his body as he could. Gods he had missed this. His hand lazily played with her hair as he talked of the new people they had met, the jewels they had brought home, the storm they had been caught in. He felt her breath even and saw that her eyes were closed. He smiled down at her “I love you” he whispered to himself. Why couldn’t he just tell her? What if she rejected him? This arrangement between them was after all just fun.
He heard her door open and looked up, stiffening. It was Ubbe, fresh marks on his neck, no doubt he and Margrethe had made up for all their time apart. “Did you talk to her?” His voice was low as to not wake you.
Ubbe stepped closer and ran his hand gently over her curves. Hvitserk’s jaw clenched as he responded “not yet.”
Ubbe nodded and brought his hand to his belt “I’ll be waiting for her when she—“ their conversation was cut short when Y/N began stirring in her sleep. Frozen in place, all they did was stare at her. Stretching her limbs and letting out a soft yawn her eyes opened and she blinked a couple times, trying to make out whose figure was causing the shadow hovering over her and Hvitserk. When she realized it was Ubbe she smiled. Hvitserk made a fist with his hand, attempting to control his anger as she jumped off of him and up to hug Ubbe, like she had with Hvitserk when she first saw him.
“Ubbe you’re safe!” She grinned into the hug, squeezing tightly. Ubbe let his hands wrap around her frame and squeezed her even tighter.
“Did you expect anything less?” With a soft chuckle he felt her pull away. She shook her head and reached over Hvitserk’s body to grab the container that had been forgotten. Ubbe’s eyes glued to her bent figure. Hvitserk had to control himself as to not yell at Ubbe to keep it in his pants.
She turned back, open container in hand with a huge smile on her face “Please. Try one” she insisted. “I made it with the fruits of the seeds you brought me after your last raid” her voice was soft.
“So you like my seed?” Ubbe joked as he popped one of the treats in his mouth. How is it possible that both sons of Ragnar could make her cheeks turn this pink? That’s when Hvitserk sat up, clearing his throat as if to remind them that he was still there. Mouth still half full Ubbe continued “it’s delicious. Like everything you make” his hand reached up to stroke her cheek. She leaned into the warm touch, not thinking anything of it.
“So how has Margrethe been?” Hvitserk interrupted the warm exchange between his lover and his brother.
Ubbe’s smile turns into a frown, dropping his hand from her face he shrugs. “She missed you brother.” He laughs, “perhaps it’s your turn to go see her. And I’ll keep our dear Y/N here company”
Y/N was mesmerized by his light eyes and the implication of his words. Surely Hvitserk wouldn’t allow Ubbe to touch her the way he did. She felt the bed behind her shift as Hvitserk got up “Only if Y/N is okay with it” he grumbled under his breath, hand on the door “She is after all a free woman.”
Ubbe leaned in, his lips an inch from hers “I’m sure she’s okay with it” he leaned closer and closer with every word until he could feel her warm lips on his. His hand slipped around her hips and pulled her closer. She didn’t know what was happening. She was shocked and confused. She didn’t exactly encourage him to continue, but she also didn’t stop him. She supposed this was all she was to Hvitserk, a warm hole to bury himself in and share with his brothers.
The next thing she knew, she felt Ubbe’s lips rip away from her harshly and abruptly. She opened her eyes to see why he had pulled away, only to see Hvitserk standing in front of her, with his back to her, hands in fists, shaking. “Get off her!” he shouted at his brother who stared at him in confusion
“You said you were fine with sharing her” Ubbe replied shoving his brother back.
“Well that was before,” Hvitserk looked back at Y/N with sorrowful eyes.
“Before what?” She mumbled moving forward, staring at him like he had suddenly grown two more heads.
“Before I realized I wanted to marry you” Silence. That’s all there was for seconds, minutes, hours? Who knew anymore. It was too long.
Ubbe was the first to speak “You have been with my wife” Hvitserk turned to look back at his brother, hanging his head in shame.
“I know brother. But please understand, I cannot stand the thought of anyone touching my Y/N” Ubbe nodded once and stepped around his brother to grab Y/N’s hand.
He brought her knuckles to his lips and smiled at her “Of course I understand Hvitty. I wouldn’t want to share her either.” Playfully leaning in he whispered to her ”You let me know if you ever get bored of him okay?” He chuckled at her reddened cheeks before winking and turning to leave.
Once alone Hvitserk turned to her, eyes looking straight into hers. He half expected her to laugh in his face, but she didn’t. Instead, there were tears in her eyes. He quickly leaned down and wiped her eyes “please don’t cry. You don’t have to marr—“ his speech was cut off by her lips on his, her arms wrapped around his neck tightly.
“I love you” she muttered into the kiss, her lips dancing with his as she tugged on the ends of his hair. “I love you so much.”
“Is that a yes?” He chuckled, hands on her hips, pulling her away to stare into her eyes. She pushed him on the bed and placed a leg on either side of his hips.
“You tell me” she smirked leaning down to capture his lips again. Tonight was going to be long and he was going to enjoy every second of it.
Would you please do a happy, fluffy Hvitserk with no. 5 from the prompt list, please? 😁
Cracked || [Hvitserk x Reader]
Give my Hvitty some love with prompt 39!
5: Well, that wasn’t what I expected…
39: Would you just kiss me, already?
You didn’t have high hopes for this.
Hvitserk was a skinny, lanky thing. He wasn’t the big hulking Viking that was Bjorn Ironside, nor as toned as Ubbe. So when he joined in on glíma after a warm belly of fish stew and heavy bread, you had little hopes that he would win. Only that he would wear his fangastakkur, a wrestling jacket, so you wouldn’t be caring for broken bones that night.
Maybe it was your presence that night, but after three near failings, you expected him to be lifted and chucked like a hen across the farm. To your shock that time, your skinny Viking latched his hands around the fluffy bearded man’s side, lurching and fighting, until he finally managed to flick him into a raised bench just to the side of the crowd where a pregnant woman recently left. There’s a loud crack, a pop of something in his back, decimating his spine. The crowd erupted in jovial laughter, even in the face of the young man who groaned that something was broken.
“Well, that wasn’t what I expected…” you mutter out loud as Hvitserk bounced around the arena, laughing and hopping like a happy rabbit, stripping himself of his jacket, until he spots you from the corner of his eyes. He grasps your elbow, swirling you about like it was one big show. Even as you shrill in surprise.
“Hvitserk! You– is he dead?!”
“I won! You said you would kiss me if I won.” He says pointedly, flicking off the fact that yeah– the other man wasn’t getting up. Your arms slip from your chest, dropping from the long braid of your chest. “Would you kiss me, already?”
“But– he’s dead!”
A side effect, really, Hvitserk snatches your waist, slipping his hands around your waist for a sneaky little squeeze. When you shriek, his lips snatch the opportunity to take his prize– one sweet, hungry kiss. Gentle as his full lips press against yours, hungry when his tongue begs for more of your taste. It’s just like him– Your hungry, sweet Viking.
Only tonight, the sweet part was highly debatable.
“For our family” Hvitserk x reader Vikings Imagine
A/N: Hey guys, guess what, I am still alive and back at it.So I thought about discarding this idea multiple times but well then I thought fuck it I am just gonna post it. This post was corrected by the lovely Maggie from @barnesthenoble please go check out her blog. Please make sure to tell me what you think. Hope you are all doing well. Love Camren
Description: Y/N is concerned for Hvitserk and their family's future, which makes her suffer from nightmares. One night she decides to tell Hvitserk of her struggle and wishes of leaving Kattegat.
Words: 672
Please comment if you find any mistakes
I was undressing for the night, standing naked in front of the fire when the door to the dim lit room flew open. A low growl and the sound of Hvitserk knocking over a chair standing by the door followed.
He was enraged. It was plain, he had been humiliated by Ivar once again.
I flinched when I heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt. I had faced his temper. He made me beg for more, crying out how much I loved it.
He wanted Ivar to listen and remind him of what he had over him.
Hours later in the dead of the night, the fire slowly dying down, my head was lying on his chest.
It took me some courage to finally let the words leave my mouth, but I had to tell Hvitserk what had been on my mind for days and stole my sleep at night. "Hvitserk..." I breathed into the dark. My voice not above a whimper, but still loud enough to pull him from his thoughts.
"Yes? " he answered with that voice of his that never failed to remind me of our childhood.
"I have been thinking." I started and then decided to just blurt it out when I felt my eyes filling up with tears. "Let's go away." I finished my concerns.
I lifted my gaze, which had lingered on the darkness that filled our room, to his face. "There is no future here, Hvitserk. It is only a matter of time, everything will come to an end." I knew it was a difficult subject and I had to be careful not to anger him.
My voice was more firm when I continued. "You know it and the gods know it" It was important. So much was at stake. I searched for his eyes and pressed my body closer to his. he loved having me at his side, stark naked looking up at him with innocent doe eyes. "You know the signs, Hvitserk. You saw the Valknut."
Hvitserk noticed the supplication in her voice. And Hvitserk knew how this situation troubled her. He knew she was being haunted by nightmares despite her efforts to keep her pain to herself. he could see the fear in her eyes as she spoke, he knew of her suffering, and it pained him to see her like this. This was so unlike her.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to pull myself together as I carried on "Let's find a place of our own. Somewhere far away. We could go to the Mediterranean."
He avoided looking at me as he spoke."Ivar and I are not done yet. My time here is not over yet. I can't let Ivar destroy Kattegat"
I let my left hand glide down his body as I replied "Ivar has chosen his path. You can't save him from himself. You have done everything you could. You have always been there for him, you have loved him, and he knows it deep down. There is nothing you can do, Hvitserk. His fate is in the hands of the gods now"
"What about Lagertha?" He shifted when I reached his lower stomach. "She is lost. Jealously and pain has poisoned her heart. She dug her own grave the moment she attacked Kattegat. If she won't die from Ivar`s hand someone else will kill her. She will die as defeated, not as a queen." He fell silent, his eyes on me, stiff of my touch.
I held his gaze as I climbed onto him my knees right and left of his hip hands beside his head, my womanhood briefly brushing him.
"What about you? What is it that you want, Hvitserk Ragnarson?" I smiled to myself as I felt him brush against my parts due to my words. I leaned down to whisper the last part in his ear.
"Give me a child. A true heir to Ragnar Lothbrok." It was the last push Hvitserk needed, and I knew I had won.
Author’s Notes | written for @michaeliskindahot. Done for dangerousvikings and ivaraddicts’ Christmas challenge.
❛ pairing | hvitserk/reader
❛ word count | 3172
❛ genre | fluff, smut
❛ summary | every year, reader goes with her best friend hvitserk to pose as his girlfriend at his mother’s yul events a few hours away. this year, a yu lstorm forces them to stop at a chilly hotel. with one bed. great.
❛ warnings | smut
This isn’t the first time you played Aslaug Sigurdssdottir.
For your best friend Hvitserk, bringing home a good girl has always been one of his top priorities. It wasn’t the bimbos that Mother wanted… with big tits spilling out of their three sizes too small cups or tiny skirts of which Hvitserk would yank up to take a peek at cheeks covered in no way by stringy thongs.
No, mother wanted you.
The proud owner of a law firm and pencil skirts that were framed so tight that Hvitserk couldn’t get a peep if he tried. It wasn’t just that you were spry and now raking in the dough, either. It was the charm and grace that floated off your shoulders like the Valkyries his mother told him about as a child.
The same holly happy silver bells bullshit blasted your bluetooth system, leaving your ears ringing, eyes blinded by a slurry of snowy white in front of your eyes. The hotel was still a good two hours away. In this strong, frosty storm though… it wasn’t happening.
“We’re stopping.” You tell your cheeky little friend.
“Yeah... yeah, I got it.” Hvitserk nearly turns his eyes from the icy chalked roads to look at you, so you click your tongue at him, making him focus on what he was doing. Without hesitation, he agrees to find the hotel that you book on your phone.
Twenty minutes later, he’s rushing in the frosty snow to get the bags out of the car for the night. His vans slip and slide across the icy pavement toward the hotel room that sat on the patio.
“What are you smiling so much for?” You glance over your shoulder to your friend. Hvitserk skids across the sidewalk with that dopey, weak smile on his full cheeks. With a whirl of the lock, the door opens. Hvitserk trots in first, throwing your suitcase to one side before he collapses onto one the bed.
“For the bed! Besides Mor’s gonna give me the look.”
The only fucking queen sized bed with a plain white comforter. It’s red lap skirt looks comfortable-- but you know it was a lie when you consider what you have packed in your suitcase.
“She’ll be okay, I’ll text her. She won’t give me the look.” Then you look to him. “They didn’t have a twin beds.” You can’t help a pout, locking the door then adding the separate rust covered chain lock higher up. You would have taken anything else other than what you ended up with. Hvitserk stretches, exposing his tummy underneath a cute red and white Yul sweater. An adorable Vikings riding a horse is splattered across a stripe.
“So what? We’ll just sleep together! We’ve done it before... like in high school, remember? Borg always liked to torture us with projects.” Hvitserk beams, pushing himself up after yanking his black joggers up his ass. The bed looks a whole lot tinier when he’s sitting on it like that. He flips off his shoes as you anxiously move to one of the fluffy pillows.
“Aren’t you supposed to offer me the bed alone as the big man?” You curl your index and middle finger almost mockingly. Not that you were exactly excited for this hotel either. All the ones that you would usually book were taken for the night.
“Nope!” Hvitserk chirps. “It’s fucking freezing in here. What kinda best friend are you?”
True, you think. It is unnecessarily cold. As you go to flip the heater on, it makes a gentle whirling as if starting to turn on. But no warmth comes from the space where it should blow out air. Only even colder air that leaves you cranking the knob one way-- then another.
“Well, guess its gone to shit.” You say, glancing over your shoulder to your best friend.
“Lucky that I brought my Yul sweaters and lucky blanket then.” Hvitserk remarks. Hvitserk’s blanket is his favourite richly forest green on the outside-- and warm fuzzy white on the inside. You can’t even remember why he loved that thing so much, but since you bought him it a few years ago, he hadn’t let it go.
“Really, how many Yul sweaters do you own?” You roll your eyes. Make no mistake, he looked a hell of good in them. But it seemed ridiculous that he had so many!
“Probably twenty.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Yul is my favourite! You know that, babe.”
Too many but… maybe that’s what you loved about Hvitserk. He was never too afraid to be soft when he needed to be. You sigh as you unzip your suitcase and seek out… a slip amongst bath supplies. You certainly couldn’t go to bed in a pencil skirt. You take it, shuffling off awkwardly as it hiding it from his view. The carpet feels icy under your feet the whole way.
At least the water was warm because the prospect of facing Hvitserk nearly naked had you nervous. He had seen a lot of things on you in his life. Sure, booty shorts and v-necks-- but never a combination of the two. Slipping on the satin and lace slip you finally garner the courage to slip out, combing your hair into waves.
“(Y/N) are you almost done! I’m all cold here alo-” You step out of the bathroom and Hvitserk loses his words. In truth, he must have forgotten he was talking at all. Your hands leave your hair, throwing your old clothes into the dirty laundry bag you brought and placing your comb back where it went. You’re trying your best not to show off your ass to Hvitserk, laying on the bed on his forearms to no avail.
The satin slip glides across your thighs up over some sweet, lacy panties. He can just barely make out the contrast of your skin against the bare ass of the panties. In truth he swallows dryly, inching up. You tug the bottom of your slip sitting against the highest part of your thighs, slipping onto the bed beside him. Shamelessly his eyes follow you, settling on the lacy line of your gorgeous cleavage.
“Hvit, stop oogling!” You whisper, laying your head on a fluffy pillow at long last.
“Uhh…” He murmurs, dropping his eyes to his cock at attention beneath his joggers. It’s helpless-- he’s hard and there’s no helping that one. “You packed lingerie to come visit my mor?”
Instantly, you go on the offensive. Of course you didn’t pack it so Aslaug would see! Were you trying to pick up his mama? No!
“Yeah, you know when I packed that it wasn’t with the intention of you EVER seeing, Hvitserk.” You snap. “I like to dress up for me.” You pull the fluffy blankets of the bed over your cold shoulders, wiggling your nose. It’s truly nippy inside. Hvitserk pulls off his sweater and v-neck shirt underneath, chucking it in another direction. His toned chest beats with his hacksilver pendant. He snatches his blanket and returns under the sheets with you.
“Should have seen it earlier.” He grins toothily. “What are you talking about? Your tits are perfect, shit, you haven’t even had surgery!”
It’s a sore spot. He knows how nervous you are every time you get into a dress. Often sticking a chicken cutlet in your bra or throwing a blazer over your shoulders to pull away from the so deemed imbalance.
“They really aren’t.” You hide underneath your blanket. The fluffy comforter hides up to your nose-- but Hvitserk being Hvitserk, he tugs it away from your lovely body. He turns on his side, letting his fingers trace your jawline-- then move down your throat. You snatch his wrist short of gliding down your sternum and leading between your round breasts.
“You’re treating me like your bimbos.” You sneer. Of course you say it hatefully or… was it jealousy so? Hvitserk leans in, letting his long hair that he so usually yanks back into a bun, tickle your lips.
“No…” He husks so unlike the best friend that you’ve known for years. You’ve only overheard this hot tone in the bars right before you would say goodnight to him and go home. It was never aimed at you. “I want to show you how fucking sexy you look in that shit.”
Hvitserk snaps the hold on your wrists, pushing his knees on either side of your hips to pin you beneath him. Suddenly, its as if he’s as large as Bjorn hovering above you. Your sweet, slender Hvitserk swells with another, predatory air.
“Let me show you.” Hvitserk whispers against your lips, hooking his finger under a strap of your slip. “Please.”
You wish that you had the drive to tell him no. That of course he couldn’t because he was your best friend. Instead of that, you only feel the softness of the straps falling down your shoulders, your large breasts peeking in the cold air.
“Ohhh…” You gasp, breath sliding from your lips. “Hvit…”
He’s non-responsive. His willowy hands take up your breasts, cupping and mashing them together with a ginger massage. His tongue glides between your breasts in one long lick, catching your eyes in his sharply green ones.
God, you wish that you could tell him no.
“Look they’re perfect.” He points out, leading his mouth to one of your nubs. His lips cusp around the nipple, swirling his pink tongue along the pert tip. His ears perk to a light, ginger moan that slips out of your lips. Better than sweet candy canes or hot chocolate, by far. His other hand takes your nipple between his fingers, pinching it gently.
“You’re so fucking perfect, you know?” Then with a pop, he repeats the treatment onto the other side. Hvitserk lets himself relax on top of you. That very second you feel Hvitserk’s needy cock pressing down upon you-- and it strikes you just how soaked your panties have become in a matter of minutes.
“Are you wet?” Hvitserk glides between the valley of your breasts to lay a chaste kiss down. He abandons your chest, letting his fingers slip down to the stringy red panties that cover your hot pussy. He massages the mound only once, testing the waters.
His answer comes in a shuddering moan, unable to face the truth. Hvitserk, however, knows the truth already. Your panties are moist with your thick need, the sticky fluid waiting for his very attention. He’s always known how you felt-- just as you knew how he felt.
How many men had he approved of?
How many had he ran off at bars or begged you to get rid of?
So, so many.
“Hvit… wait.”
So he waits, looking up at you with the neediest of whines. He doesn’t really want to wait. He wants to dip between your legs and make love to you in the way only he knows how. Hvitserk tilts his head, cussing off to the side.
“Yeah…” He murmurs, his palm still massaging your engorged lips.
“I don’t have a condom, Hvit.”
For everything he packed, a condom wasn’t one of them. He seeks out possible answers. But in a snowstorm… it wasn’t like he was magically going to procure a condom. And he was pretty sure hotels didn’t have complementary get-some-pussy condoms either.
“Shit.” Hvitserk hangs his head. “Me neither.”
It looked like he wasn’t gonna get any tonight. But… that wasn’t it. It was more than some fucking pussy. It was your damn pussy that he might never get another shot at. He had a feeling that you would be too embarrassed to face him otherwise.
“It’s okay.” You breathe, catching him off balance. Your hand shocks him by gliding between your bodies, snaking into the waistband of his joggers to pull his cock to freedom. He gasps as you grasp the root of his dick, forcing him to settle between your legs more properly. His forearms rest around your head, propping himself up. “Buy me morning after later.”
Never did a fucking pill sound so damn good. Hvitserk nods eagerly and so you lead the head of his dick up against your warm hole. He doesn’t wait for an invitation once you push him forward. He bucks his hips forward, snatching himself in your sopping wet walls.
“Fucking shit!” Hvitserk fists the pillow, cringing. “Are you squeezing me on purpose?”
You shudder, focusing on how deeply he was and god-- how full of him you finally feel. It wasn’t by circumstance that you posed as his stupid girlfriend every year. This had to happen some time. Or… so you hoped.
“Nooo.” You buck your hips up. “Why?”
Redundant-- but you want to hear it off his lips.
“You’re soo-- soo tight. It’s so good.” He moans out. You squeeze him purposefully, causing him to buckle his hips forward. He punches the pillow by your head “Fuck you (Y/N)! I’ll fuck you up too!”
He snaps his hips back, pounding himself forward to make you take him yet again. His cock plunges at a brutal, delicious pace. It’s exactly what you always wanted him to do in the privacy of your own thoughts, rubbing your cunt and riding toys imagining that it was his veiny cock claiming you like a cheap whore.
“Shit! Yes, yes, yes!” Hvitserk shrills, finding your hips lifting to devour his prick with every thrust inside. Your very walls tug at his dick as if you don’t want to let him go-- and maybe that’s the allure. How desperately you take him, how beautifully your breasts bounce with his powerful thrusts. He lowers his head down beside yours, letting his nose rub against your hair perfumed with festive vanilla shampoo, tinged in cinnamon.
“Hvit…” Your hand shifts to his handsome cheek, pulling him down to catch his lips messily. His honey coloured facial hair pricks at your lips and so the second time you kiss him, your lips glide more purposefully against his thin ones. A split second decision is one you’ll probably regret, but running your tongue over his, you take it anyway. “I love you.”
Mistaken or not, Hvitserk pulls up from your lips to gaze at you in his shock. His hips slowen in their pace. He snuffs out your worries by mashing his lips once again against your own, pumping himself far quicker than before. If it was a good thing or a I need to get off and run thing, you’re not sure. Hvitserk’s lips turn into your neck, biting your skin between smooth impassioned kisses.
“I’m going to cum soon.” He states, turning back up to your lips. “Do you want me to pull out?”
His pace is frantic, desperate to find something that felt good for you. He knows he’s found it when you shudder powerfully, squeezing his prick every time he touched that spot. You shudder a moan-- I don’t know, he hears. Smoothly, he hooks your legs at his slender hips, squeezing your ass.
“Pull out?” He gasps weakly, squeezing his eyebrows together to focus as to when he would cum. You shake your head, throwing your hands around his back to scratch at his back and keep him as close as you could. He almost pulls out when your legs squeeze him back in.
“No, in! Cum inside!”
“Fuck, yesss… take it!” He exhales forcefully, losing pace in the intone of your orgasmic shrieks around him. A wave of your muscles milking him to his completion finishes him off. His seed spills in ribbons pressed tight against your cervix. His pleasure is pleasantly outlined by your nails clawing against his back, leaving marks to be proud of with his brothers later.
Seconds later, Hvitserk awkwardly laughs, looking down to the welts he’s left on your neck. “Shit that was good but I’m fucking freezing! Sorry about your neck.”
“Sorry about your back.” You reply, loosening your legs around his hips. Hvitserk is still pitifully deep, lodging like a plug as he softened. He shoves himself off of you, globs of cum rolling down your creampied pussy.
Hvitserk glances down to your pussy before he would dip down. He forces your legs apart, sweeping up his seed with his long tongued flattened out as if licking a stupid ice cream pop. Your hand comes to your mouth, watching. After several apologetic licks, he suckles your pussy lips with a pop of his own lips. Then, he surfaces.
“Sorry about your pussy too. I fucking love pussy.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. Then pushing himself to the side of the bed, he tugs his blanket to cover your body affectionately. Your pussy feels swollen with all the love he just gave you. Then sliding under the same, he lays in bed with his hand behind his back. The cool air had been biting him all along-- but with sweat running down his back, he could ignore it up until now.
“Hvit?” You ask him. “What was that?”
‘That’ was his fault. He let his prick get ahead of himself again, shit. He looks over, pulling you in against his chest. There was nothing that he could say this time to get him out of this situation. He swallows dryly, looking to his watch. The clock struck 12:39.
“Uh,” He stutters. “A Yultime present? Wanna be my girl?”
You turn to look at him, almost scoffing at this half ass proposition. If not for the seriousness that plagues Hvitserk afterwards. Maybe he was a playful boy with games and food as his two loves in life. But you know Hvitserk enough to know when he really meant something.
“You serious?” You say. A bright smile slaps across your lips, resting your hand across his toned chest. Your finger traces the bumps of his hacksilver pendant when he nods.
“Yeah. You know my family already and everything. So yeah?” Hvitserk prods you on a little bit. Ivar would probably tease him when he found out how exactly you were coerced to date him.
You paw the soft brown curls of his chest. “Say you love me.”
He said it all the time. Love ya babe-- on tons of texts. But he hadn’t said it in sex! Hvitserk flushes, taking your hand to his lips to playfully kiss your knuckles.
“You know I do.” He leans his head back, letting his other hand trace affectionate circles along your back.
“Sayyyy it. How do I know you weren’t just being nice for some ass?” You tickle his hairs.
“Hey! I wouldn’t do that!” He wouldn’t? You lift your eyebrows. “Err-- to you. I love you, shit. Happy?” He says and those the words might sound harsh, he says it with a playful smile. His cheeks feel raw with all the smiling he’s doing.
“Yes.” You say curtly. “I love you too. So of course you can be my man.”
Hvitserk x Witchy!Wife for @tempt-ress I’m sorry it took me so long to finish this for you my love. I hope you enjoy it.
Spakona: Seeress
Seidhkona: Magic user of Seidr.
Rökt fisk: Smoked fish soup
Ale-runes which the wife of another will not betray a man’s trust must be written on the drinking horn.
Gifs: Mine and I abused the shit out of them!
She’s a witch! His brother had said it as if their mother had not been the same. When Hvitserk went to Kattegat, it was always with the knowledge that he was outside of their strange circle… despite being so in at the same time. The only thing keeping his brother at bay, or so Hvitserk thought, was her.
It was cold-- wet and frosty as he hops from one congealed mat of ice to another, hoping back onto the man made road towards the slight hill where slushed ice would crack under his foot. He taps his boots of the ice as he pushes the door apart, sliding in with a small little peep. A garland of weasel bones jingle to welcome him back home, etched with rune.
“Fadir!” Shrills his nearly three year old, whizzing through the dark planks of his home to the doorway. Hvitserk grins a bright, gleaming smile as he closes the door behind him. It smells of warm hearth. Old ash lit alive and boy, there are no bowls on the shelf. That meant one thing to Hvitserk who sheds his fur coat and plucks up his son: dinner.
“(Y/N)!” He beams, rocking his son in his arms.
You turn away from the warm hearth in the room, pouring him a hearty and warm soup of rökt fisk to go with his herb bread. You turn up with your bowl, revealing a round belly that picks up his skirt. He moves forward to meet you in a soft kiss to your forehead.
“There is my pretty witch.” He teases, running his hand over the curve of your stomach, taking the bowl you hand to him. He almost moves away when you stop him by tapping your lips with a ‘ah, ah, ah’ as if to note that he can’t leave before his kisses. His pre-existing gloomy mood is done away with in that instant, leaning in with a great smile to kiss you upon the lips. Then he moves to his seat with his little boy in his arms.
“Mhm. Why do you come in here with that frown?” You say, bringing your own bowl on top of your round belly. The chair you sit in is carved with imagery of the falcon-- melted gold paints its surface in memory of the goddess you serve.
“Ivar murdered Margrethe on his way to find Bjorn.” He notes. Old feelings died hard-- you suppose, but you are far more confident in your abilities to keep your husband than worries of the one who played mad. Hvitserk bobs his son on his lap, offering him some of his smoked fish soup.
“I can’t say I’m surprised. Are you grieving?” You ask.
He mushes his thin lips together, shrugging his shoulders. “A little. Ivar thinks I am overreacting and have gone soft.”
“Ivar is just as guilty of being soft as you, little fadir.” You reach over, tickling his belly. Your young son babbles for more of his father’s food.
“Hey, I’ve hardly gotten any.” He pouts to him, cleaning the spoon. His son steals his bread, devouring it as hungrily as Hvitserk ever had. Your husband turns his eyes to you.
“He says I’ve gotten comfortable having a seidhkona at home.” Hvitserk notes. Such strange magic you practiced. Magic that even the gods were wary of. Harmful and yet protective, all in one. Your kohl lined eyes glisten while you raise your eyebrows up.
“Should I reverse ale-runes on his horn?” You tease.
Hvitserk laughs, leaning up in his chair. “No, Freydis is with child. They will call you a Spakona, not my pretty little witch who bares me sons, makes bread and cares for me at night in spirit or person.” He rolls his eyes as if he can’t understand how his brother managed it. The two did not speak. But more than that his impotence was exactly what led to the death of Sigurd-- which you foresaw with Aslaug. A death.
“Oh, then its too late for that.” You note rather dead pan in tone. Its enough that he stops to look at you quizzically. You return his gaze with a dead serious one, not at all revealing anything more. He opens his mouth but then closes it. He stares off again.
“He doesn’t think I love him. What if I…” He begins. Just as quickly you cut him off.
“Let the fool play the fool, Hvitserk. He will humiliate you.”
Nothing else passes his lips, bringing his bowl of soup up to his lips to chug the fishy broth all at once. He hops up, setting down his heavy son who whizzes about his feet as he goes to serve himself more. You stand up, gliding over to where he kneels.
“Let me do that.” You huff something about womanly duties-- and Hvitserk swats your skirts back to sit down.
“I have hands too!” He pouts cutely bringing his son another bowl of fishy soup along with him. He plops down on the ground to eat with him, resting his head against your side.
“But you’re my king.” You turn your hands over his neat braids. Hvitserk can’t help a smile at the suggestion.
“With no lands in all of Norway.” He notes. Even the land he was given was bought off of his smaller brother’s hands. You hush the strain in the wrinkles of his forehead by a consoling rub of your thumb against the wound smack in the middle of his forehead.
“Be patient my love. Your line will have your glory.” You console. So he smiles, edging closer towards your belly. He lays a kiss atop of the round swell of his son brewing in his little witch’s belly.
Author’s Notes | The next chapter will be gritty for supporting characters. Consider this one a transition piece.
❛ pairing | Hvitserk/reader
❛ word count | 2647
❛ genre | Angst, smut.
❛ summary | Hvitserk apologizes and shit gets real.
❛ warnings | Femdom, manipulation, bad parents, bad friend, hate fuck.
You are receiving a call from Asta Nilsson, an inmate at Storstrøm correctional facility. Would you like to receive this call?
Yes.
“Are you okay?”
The other line was quiet as you held the phone on your ear. Anxiously you wait for your dear friend across the line.
“Fine.” She answers curtly. “Aethelwulf says I’ll be in here a while since school has cameras and all.”
“How long is a while?” You ask her as you pull your book from the reserved shelf. For some time, she doesn’t really say anything. You clear your throat to prompt her-- and so she finally works past a few bubbling tears to be able to speak to you with good reason.
“Six years.” She looks around. “Since I’m an adult now and was fighting around ‘children’ or something like that.”
That seemed extensive-- you have a mind to think that Aslaug had something to do with this. Of course, Asta had been locked up before. For drugs, but nothing major. Your voice runs dry along the other line. She clears her throat after a brief amount of time and so you correct yourself.
“Take care of the milkshake okay? Come visit me.”
“Okay, Asta.” You clear your throat, fiddling with a book off the shelf. Breast is best? You tilt your head. “I’m sure you’ll be out sooner.”
“Not with Hvitserk on the stand.” She laughs dryly. “To think I thought he loved you once.”
It’s too soon. Your stomach recoils as you replace the book back into its rightful place. When they open and turn down, you recognize the steel toed boots that stand just to the right of you at the end of this end hall within the library.
“Ah… I’ll talk to you tomorrow Asta, Far is here to pick me up.” You lie. “Yeah, love you too. Bye.”
“Now I’m ‘Daddie’ too, mm?”
The second you turn off your phone, Hvitserk moves against you. He smells of menthol cigarettes that burnt the pungent odor perfume from his collar. Hvitserk must have stopped for a cigarette before coming to visit you.
“Move.” You say, eyes skimming the cords of his black hoodie. You don’t want to look into his eyes. It was bad enough that he had you cornered within this stuffy aisle between the tacky wall beside you and parenting books to the side.
“No.” He states.
“Hvitserk, move.”
“Nope.” He muses. You duck underneath him to escape but tricky as he was, he went with you, grasping your wrist to spin you into his arms. His grip tighten around your slightly swollen stomach.
“I will fucking scream Hvitserk.”
“You won’t, princess.” Hvitserk turns his nose into your soft hair. He fingers the lock of hair you have dyed around his finger. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re mad at me.”
“Mad doesn’t even cover it. Do you have any idea what you did? To Asta? To me?” You whisper under your breath. A sweet little bubbly haired teen bobs by, quickly catching the message to get lost when Hvitserk shoots a look up to them. As they make themselves scarce, you turn around to face Hvitserk.
“She’s the one who jumped me.” Hvitserk reiterates.
“Because she saw you with her! While I was pregnant!” You all but shout at him.
“I don’t know why you’re getting so offended. It was just a kiss.” He snorts. “It’s not like I’m sleeping with her.”
That seems to be what makes you snap. You snatch his wrist from your hair, yanking him out of the library with no other explanation than the rage behind your steps. Darting down the steps and across the concrete plaza you shove him into a line of bushes. Hvitserk staggers on the other end of the bushes, opening his mouth to speak when you shove him onto the dusty ground. He leans up on his forearms when you pose him a question that he can’t really ignore.
“Are you fucking her?”
His face goes blank. Of course-- he had been expecting that you would be upset, but for different reasons. It was his fault that Asta wasn’t here by your side.
“The fuck are you talking about?” He rumbles-- the wrong answer. Your hand digs into his jeans, unbuckling and pulling his cock free. He looks down to his half hardened cock that you tug to excitement, toes curling in his boots until he’s fully at attention for you. Hvitserk doesn’t speak as you spit upon the tip of his cock. You mount him, sliding him into your warm pussy with a harsh twist of your hips upon him. The swirl knocks Hvitserk’s dick around pleasurably within you.
“This is mine.” You say. It reaches his ear and so he leans up.
“Say again?” He hums.
“Your dick is fucking mine.” You give a small shout, causing him to flinch as if unsure if anyone else would be listening. Then without error you squeeze him tight, pushing your palms on his chest to shove him into the grainy dirt. Hvitserk turns his head up, a laugh threatening to spill over. He holds it, biting his lower lip in favour of not pounding your pussy for you.
“I couldn’ hear that.” He rasps just for the fucking hell of it. At the wrong time, too. You’re in no mood to play any of his fucking games and so you snap your palm across his cheek with so much force that it snaps his head into the dirt. Then your hands alternate down onto the preexisting marks left by Asta, crushing her marks with your own. He can’t speak and much less actually fight you with your insistence on riding him for all he was worth.
“Say it.” Your fingers loosen their bruising grip just enough for your bad boy to actually speak. Hvitserk’s throat burns yet remains otherwise wordless.
“I needa cum--”
“Say it.” You glide your hips up, swirling just his tip inside of you. He thinks that this will be another one of those stupid practice sessions where he would reprimand you for not having the correct amount of dick in your pussy so that he wouldn’t slide out. But you have it this time, jamming right back down and riding him with the precision he could only dream of teaching you. Maybe buying those dildos for you was a good idea-- even though he much rather it if he were the only toy you used!
“Say it you STUPID FUCK!”
Oh god, there’s no way no one heard that! Hvitserk bites down on his lip hard, eyes wincing. He can feel your sweet juices squelching over his balls and coating the honey coloured tuft of hair at the base of his pubic mound.
“Ah shi-- Fuck, I’m yours!”
“You want to cum don’t you?”
He nods, eagerly so.
“Then you’re not going to speak against Asta at her trial if they ask you to.”
His eyes widen as you still your motions, making him kiss underneath you. This whole fuck was a ploy! He was sure of it! But then, he did the same damn thing to you.
“Are you fuckin— you li’lbitch!”
“I’ll get off you right now.” You hiss. He’s gonna cum-- and hard. His balls feel heavy as fuck with the cum he hadn’t gotten rid of since you broke up with him.
“Fuckin’ fine!”
Despite the ruffle of leaves and biting roar of Hvitserk Ragnarsson by one of his favourite teachers, fuck, he wasn’t gonna let that bitch get the drop on him! He barely even looks over as he fills you up, eyes instead deciding to shut.
“Hvitserk RAGNARSSON!”
Shit, the bitch acted like he wasn’t the one getting strangled.
Man, this was all some fresh ass bullshit.
“Do you know what having unprotected sex can lead to?”
Hvitserk sat with you in Mr. Andersen’s office. Aslaug was on the way to come get him, but until then, he was stuck with his arm lazily thrown over your chair. Compared to your guilty face, his was far more relaxed.
“Yeah, pretty sure I do.” Hvitserk snorts. “Mr. Andersen. Lemme lay it on you. I’m a put it in and eat it out kinda guy but I can’t get her any more knocked up than she is already.”
“Hvitserk.” You hiss.
“So the rumours are true.”
Two banging cracks upon the black lined window cause everyone in the room to jump. Not only because well, it was loud, but on the other end he can clearly make out the booming voice.
“Can someone open the door?!” It’s your mother’s deep, but feminine voice. She doesn’t mean to play with anyone by that tone.
Hvitserk blinks deliberately slowly, leaning in with his arm still around your chair. Your teacher raises to get the door for your mother who walks in with a hot and heavy brewing expression. Her scrubs reflect that she had planned on going to work if not for the fact that she had been called. You weren’t sure why, you were an adult! Your head hangs unable to look anywhere but your lap.
“Hey, Ellisif, how are you?” He waves with two jaunty fingers.
“(Y/N) up. We’re going home.” Your mother says with a stone face frown. Her hands clutch a rosy pink envelope purse while you look down to your backpack. It was already after hours and no one wanted to be there, much less the counselor who cleared his throat.
“Uh, ah, Ms. (L/N) please have a seat. We were about to speak about options for the child.”
The expression on her face goes from bad-- to worse. Before you were sure she was going to speak but now, well, she might have exploded if not for fact that the counselor was right in front of you. Your counselor rolls over toward a hanging folder to pull out a few pamphlets. He tugs free a bright pink paper and hands it to you.
“First thing is first.” The counselor clears his throat. “Have you made a decision on what option you would like to take?”
Options:
Keep the baby-- single parenthood.
Terminate pregnancy.
Marriage.
Adoption.
Fostering.
“Marriage?” Hvitserk glances down, letting his hand massage your shoulder. “What kind of option is that?”
You glance over the questions-- then look to your mom. The disappointment is visible across her face. She tucks a lock of her bob behind her ear before she urges you to pay attention to the counselor to speaking to you.
“I… can’t abort.” You whisper. “But I was about to graduate.”
The counselor weaves his fingers together patiently.
“You won’t deliver until after you graduate.”
But then, you think, what about college? If you kept it, that was a sacrifice you’d have to make. At least for the time being. Hvitserk leans over to look through the pamphlet and all that it would offer: resources for donated clothes, emergency food cards and other things.
“You can do online school until the child is old enough.” He suggests. “Assuming Hvitserk will be here to help out--”
“Of course I’ll be here.” Hvitserk brings his fingers to your hair, affectionately tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.
“We’ll keep it.” Your mother cuts through, effectively taking the decision out of your fingers. It is the same as you were thinking. She makes you feel robbed of your choice as she insists it. Mr. Andersen motions to the other document.
“This one will help you find resources for low income hous--”
“That won’t be necessary.”
From the wooden doorway-- you spot the woman that you had met in the Ragnarsson’s home. The matriarch Aslaug with her hand wrapped in the loop of her husband’s arm: Ragnar himself. The counselor stiffens visibly and your mother, not at all pleased, looks up.
“These weren’t the circumstances I thought we would meet under, Ellisif. Ragnar, Hvitserk’s father.” Ragnar holds out his hand toward your mother. You look out toward him, gazing over his body. He reminds you lightly of Hvitserk. His black v-neck sits smoothly over his top, dark blue jeans stuffed into steel toed boots. Tattoos wrap around the side of his cropped hair-- and the rumors were right. He was a little bit of a sight.
“I had no idea we were supposed to meet anyway.” She takes his hand.
“Well…” Ragnar’s lips purse together, looking in the direction of a chair by Hvitserk. He pushes Aslaug to sit with her patient little Yorkie in her arms. She leans in to kiss the side of your cheek. “There are worse ways to meet.”
Your mom perks her eyebrow as if to ask what, on earth, could be worse when Ragnar reclines against the frame of the doorway. His tongue cuts across his pearly upper teeth.
“Hvitserk will handle being the breadwinner.” Ragnar says. “Anything else?”
“I… I only wanted to… ask if they could not have sex on campus.”
“I’m sure they are not the only ones.” Aslaug cuts dry, her long legs folding one over another. “Is it really that much of a problem?”
Mr. Andersen remains quiet on the issue.
“That will be it then.” Ragnar turns his head toward your patient yet inpatient mother sitting in the corner of the room. Hvitserk stands up and offers his hand out to help you up. His mother leaves the room followed by your mother whose sneakers squeak across the thin faux tile. You notice that Ragnar has stayed behind. Once outside, your mother beelines towards her car. She is already in before you are.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hvitserk leans in, kissing the top of your head.
“I don’t forgive you.” You say. “Asta could be facing charges now.”
“You better after I bail her ass out.” Hvitserk says negating the fact that Asta was in prison. “She did attack me.”
“Oh, like you attacked Magnus?”
This again.
“And now he is with Bjorn probably learning how to get his dick sucked by two different blondes at the same time.”
“Really?” You hiss. “You’re really going to justify it?”
“You’re the one that fucked the shit out of me say what, two hours ago?” Hvitserk snorts. “It doesn’t bother you that much.”
“I…” Then again, he cuts you off.
“Look, I didn’t fuck her. You’re my baby mama now. I’m not letting you go so easy. So, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He tugs open the car door and situates you in the car that was so tense you could probably not even cut it with a knife. She’s deadly silent as she drives past your favourite sweet shops.
“Are you mad?” You whisper to your mother, clutching your backpack in front of your stomach. She shifts with a sigh.
“I’ll tell your father.”
It began to feel really lonely.
With the Ragnarssons, Hvitserk’s worries were far beyond any that you might have had. Having kids, he had no issue with that. His mother was the stay at home wife that he always dreamed of having himself. Except-- he definitely wanted a better one. All things considered, his life wasn’t so bad right now.
And besides-- having a kid? You would be stuck with him. It was one thing to keep you entranced by his body. It was another to have something as permanent as a child with you. There was no option. He pops open his phone to look at old messages.
Thora
How did it go?
Hvitserk
Gotta meet up to tell you, you won’t believe it.
Where are you?
“How much did he owe you?” Hvitserk asks as he tacks out another response to Thora. Blaring sirens whizz by. Hvitserk peeks out the window, twisting his head curiously at the ambulance making its way by.
“Few grand.” Ragnar answers. “Call Uncle Rollo to set you up.”
Author’s Notes | hvitserk sinks back to old habits. it’s only the start.
❛ pairing | hvitserk/reader
❛ word count | 2398
❛ genre | heavy angst + plot heavy
❛ summary | hvitserk goes to the one person he knows can belp.
❛ warnings | dark!hvitserk, manipulation, blackmail, hvitserk being a shit, violence, cheating, single parent fears, hvitserk gets what he wants.
“You got her pregnant?”
Why was it every time this happened, he was the one getting shit for “getting” someone pregnant? Was it always on him to make sure they were taking something? Hvitserk sat on the fluffy couch with a cup of cheap ass bland ramen that she made. Apparently the egg in there would soak up some of the spice that was churning his stomach already.
“Is it my job to make sure she’s taking shit? Gotdamn.” Hvitserk slurps up his ramen angrily, cheeks full as his green eyes leer at her. She stands cooking some weird dish for his actual dinner, her long light brown hair bouncing around the middle of her back with rose gold curls.
“If you don’t want a baby.” His phone reflects his mother’s voice.
“Mor, you’re not helping.”
“She’s right. It’s not coincidence that this happened again, Hvit. You should use condoms.” She says, turning around and looking at him with her kind eyes. “First Margrethe and now… (Y/N)?”
“You know I don’t do condoms, Thora.” Hvitserk says.
“Then it’ll happen again.”
“She’s already knocked up! I can’t knock her any more up!” Hvitserk punches his hand into the soft cushions. Then he smooths his hand over the leather cushions as Thora’s favorite maine coon jumps up beside him. “Besides… she broke up with me.”
“She did?” Thora brings him a bowl of ærter which he looks to blandly. For once, he had no appetite after that spicy ramen. He stares down at his cup.
“The fuck am I gonna do? She’s pregnant.” He runs his hand down his face. His mother’s face contorts on his flat phone as Hvitserk hovers eyer it, drops of wet tears plopping onto the screen. “Bet you she’s gonna hold this whole Magnus bullshit over my head and I’ll never see my kid either.”
Thora plucks up the fluffy cat, dropping back onto the couch beside Hvitserk. She combs down the wily mane, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Abruptly Aslaug cuts in on the middle of her conversation.
“We will make her jealous.” She says from the phone on his lap.
“What?” He says in response. “Is that smart?”
“Women are always territorial when they are pregnant. I doubt she’ll be any different.” He states. Hvitserk makes a small humming under his breath, throwing his arms behind his head. It had been a while since he played any games.
“It’s not going to be Margrethe. She’s off her meds.” Hvitserk agrees.
“I can do it.” Thora says meekly.
“You?”
“I am your ex. It shouldn’t be too hard.” Thora agrees with a nodding of her head. Hvitserk glides his arm around her shoulders, tugging her in to kiss the top of her head. The fluffy kitten jumps out from between them.
“You’re amazing, Thora.” He worships his friend-- best friend if he had one. Then he turns his eye down to the phone on his lap. His mother sits with her little yorkie, combing down the wily strands of hair. He hears Ivar shuffling around in the background about his engineering program.
“Thanks, Mor.” He grins, pulling apart again with Thora’s father comes into the room. “It’s a plan.”
Whining at home would have tipped off mor and far. You hadn’t told them yet, and honestly, you were afraid to. Even though you were eighteen years old and free to make your own decisions-- it would have been easier to have their support.
“I told you!” Asta hops ahead of you. Your gloved fingers held a warm hot chocolate, smiling under your breath as Asta broke apart the bagel she had brought to school just for you. It made you feel better since you ran off Hvitserk the prior weekend. She hands you a garlicy chunk.
“I didn’t think it was true.” You mutter softly, nuzzling down into a fluffy red knit scarf. “He didn’t seem like the type.”
“What type?” Asta asks.
“Fuck boy.”
“Are you kidding me?” Asta hops on the last concrete step, bending so that her hair might tickle the sides of your face. “All the Ragnarssons are total fuckboys. Except Sigs and Ivar.”
With her hair tickling your face, you shake your hand to flutter her hair away from your face. Then bringing your hot chocolate to your lips, you take a warm sip. The twinge of chocolate sauce on top of fluffy whipped cream warms your lips in the breaking cold of the day.
“That doesn’t make me any less… you know. What about the milkshake having a daddie?” You say as a group of girls darts by, full of their giggles.
“Milkshake?” She prompts. You shoot her a look and at that she realizes what you mean. Asta reaches out to tug you at the elbow onto the last step, winding her hand around your arm.
“Well if you want to keep the milkshake, I can be daddie milkshake and you can be mommie milkshake!”
Right, like that would work! You laugh about it as Asta tugs open the dull metal blue door open. The warm air hits your skin, warming it-- but that’s not the only thing that it reveals either. The Ragnarssons have a table. All the brothers tend to sit at it. Ubbe, Sigurd, Ivar and the one you really didn’t want to see: Hvitserk.
You expect him to jump off his chair after you. You expect him to look at you, text you, beg for you to come back. But no, there’s nothing. He doesn’t move an inch from where he is in your direction. Rather his arm slinks around the pale shoulders of Thora, his ex-girlfriend. You’re familiar with her during their break up. But they don’t seem at all broken up anymore, motioning his fingers to Thora’s lips just after turning her chin toward him.
“(Y/N) ignore it.” She says.
But you can’t ignore it. The sight of their lips sliding against one another, Thora’s eyes sliding to a shut while Hvitserk’s own catch you out the corner of his eye. Out of some spiteful reaction he only deepens the kiss, ever keeping his eye on you the whole time he does so. You know that this is all a show to him in that instant.
“Looks like you’ve lost your shiny new sticker.” The voice belongs to Margrethe. She stands with her hands in a fuzzy black jacket, glancing off to where Thora’s hand grips the metal lining of Hvitserk’s jacket. As if almost instinct, the hand over your belly tightens. You lose the enamoured moment between Hvitserk and Thora and glance over your shoulder where Margrethe is, twiddling an unlit cigarette between cleanly manicured fingers.
“I guess it was always going to happen, (Y/N).”
God, someone shut her up. Asta glares over her shoulder as if to tell Margrethe to beat it. She doesn’t give a shit about the warning. Even more than that-- she actually dares to keep on speaking.
“After all, you were just friends.”
It’s not supposed to hurt this much. You threw him out! So why… did it hurt to be replaced? It hadn’t even been more than a weekend! Could he have really gone to Thora’s all weekend after you kicked him out?
“Beat it Margrethe.” Asta growls at her side. Margrethe’s blue eyes narrow a bit, looking out toward where Thora was looking for a monitor. None there so she tips him into another sweet kiss.
“I…” You swallow-- hard. “I have to go.”
You’re distantly aware of Asta calling your name as you speed off in the direction of the bathrooms within the cafeteria. As you speed to the safety of dull, tiled walls Asta throws a heated glare toward Hvitserk. It’s almost as if it’s magic because Hvitserk leaves Thora’s lips with the deepest of smirks upon his handsome young face. Then again he lowers his head to return to the game of mancala on the table, laughing even.
That fucker.
Her feet carry her in Hvitserk’s direction. Harsh stomps that carry Asta to the table where Hvitserk and Ubbe were playing with a bit of mancala. Asta is the easy one to ignore. The one that normally is too mild mannered to do anything about what Hvitserk would do to you. This time, however, she’s had enough. She forces herself between Sigurd and his sweet girlfriend Blaeja, lurching over the table.
“Asta--” Ubbe sees it coming first.
Her balled up carried her body weight as it connects to Hvitserk’s defined cheekbone. He’s thrown off enough at his bench that he tips over onto his back. With a heavy thud, Hvitserk falls onto the faux tiles. He gives a harsh grunt, snapping his head around just in time to see her coming right after him.
“What the fuck, Asta?!” He barks out, bringing his hand to his busted lip. He honestly thought it was the end of it after one good punch. He’s sorely mistaken as her hands come over his throat and god, he doesn’t remember her being so close that she can actually choke him out! Clearly, she’s made it sitting upon his chest. Under other circumstances he could have found this kinky.
“Miss Nilsson!”
Except she was ringing his neck and shaking his neck so hard that he was going a little splotchy eyed. He gasps under her hands, the lack of oxygen making everything go hazy and black. Before he could dig the knife out of his pocket though-- he’s granted relief by way of one of his teachers standing over him. With Ubbe’s help, Finehair has tugged her off of him and Magnus joins his friend’s side. Within moments of the incident other students are turning around from their tables and looks toward their table.
“You fucking piece of shit!” Asta roars. “How could you knock her up and throw her away?!”
Thora appears beside her to help him to sit upright. Her fingers trace the outline of Asta’s upon his neck, fussing over the change in colour. Finehair is as curious as everyone else however. Given the other day, he knows just what is going on.
“Are you okay, Hvit?” She asks sweetly.
“What are you talking about?” Sigurd asks standing up beside him. “(Y/N)’s not pregnant.”
“Hvitserk?” Ubbe prompts his smaller brother to speak.
No one speaks. Not Asta who is led off by Principal Ingstad, who slipped through the front doors. Nor Finehair who has kneels below by Ubbe and Thora. He assists Hvitserk in standing up and as you peep out of the bathroom door rubbing wet tears from your eyes. Harald takes Hvitserk’s shoulder in one arm despite the stagger towards where you were.
“We should talk in my class.”
“You got miss (Y/N) pregnant?”
Why was it that everyone told him that? Hvitserk stood with his hands jammed into his jeans, leaning forward with the slightest roll of his eyes. Finehair slips behind his desk, jangling the drawer open.
“That was what the other day was about.”
“Yeah.” He says. “It was.”
“Don’t use condoms?” Harald holds up the foily package of one. Shit, why was everyone always on him about condoms! Hvitserk digs his hand into his pocket, unwrapping the plastic around another cherry lollipop. He had been binging them lately. Hvitserk began to wonder if it was a stress result of coming unraveled. Without your stability there-- everything was starting to to slip back… and back… and back.
“Na.” He says.
“If you’re sleeping with many women--”
“I’m not.” Hvitserk interrupts. “(Y/N) broke up with me. I was trying to get her back.”
“You couldn’t just buy her flowers?” Harald presses. Cute, Hvitserk thinks. There’s a reason that only Lagertha seemed to have been with him. At that, even, he’s heard rumors of Lagertha being a dominatrix in her free time. Rumors that could not be confirmed or denied. In that absence, he has to agree.
“You haven’t been with women, have you?” Hvitserk rolls his tongue around his candy as he comes closer to his teacher. “You wouldn’t know.”
“Know what?”
“What they’re like.” Hvitserk sets his hands to Harald’s shoulders. “They don’t want fucking flowers. They want attention. And by this time tomorrow, the whole school will be buzzing about my baby mama.”
Harald lifts one of his eyebrows, shifting to look at the young Ragnarsson behind him. Ragnar Lothbrok was more than an ordinary man. Lagertha was no ordinary woman. For years he’s considered what it was about their family. He looks up toward Hvitserk with blank expression; unsure of why this Ragnarsson is even going to school.
“It would be wise.” Hvitserk pats his shoulders, snatching the condom from Finehair’s fingers. He inserts it back into the front pocket of Harald’s shirt. “If you just stayed out of our business. Or I’ll uncover yours.”
The bells sung.
Hvitserk collects his notebook and green pencil back into his lazy black backpack. Physics had gone well and his guilty little shit Magnus was working out perfectly to his advantage. What a stupid shit his brother was… but that was okay. They could fix that. Floki could even see it on him, giggling at the imperfect answer from another student while they collect their things.
“A-Are you gonna see (Y/N)?” Magnus mutters shakily. It was lunch. Margrethe butts in between Thora’s arm to take Hvitserk’s, shoving her out of the way particularly roughly.
“He’s going to take me to the cafeteria.” Margrethe chirps-- ignoring her presence. “I ordered pizza.”
A rictus of a smile keeps on Hvitserk’s face as he unpeels her hand from his elbow. Then turning his gaze down to his phone on his table, he shakes his head. Thora keeps to herself as confident as she ever had been.
“I’m out to see my woman. She’s probably all alone and depressed with Asta out of the way now.” Hvitserk presses his forehead against hers, rubbing his forehead against hers in an affectionate motion. Their noses brush like cute little pups. He pats his little brother’s shoulder on his way out the door. Then with sardonic heat, Margrethe turns back to Thora.
“You took him from me, you little-- little whore!”
Floki tsks his tongue to catch Margrethe’s attention.
A/N: Alright guys, this is my first requested imagine. It took me a while to do it, due to some problems with my laptop (which was the reason I had to start all over again), and then I got ill...it was almost as if this story shouldn`t be written...so if it is not as good as my other imagines, please be kind! Anyways here it is, requested by @ceylon-morphe286, hope that's what you had in mind.
if you find any mistakes, please comment.
Description: Y/N A woman from the future gets stuck in the world of Ivar the Boneless and his brothers and tries her best to deal with the situation. But her, to the Vikings seemingly strange, behaviour causes many unexpecting things to happen and gives her a special position in Kattegat.
Since I can remember, I was dreaming of experiencing an adventure.
But by that, I did not mean to wake up one morning and find myself in a dark hot and completely unknown room.
I laid in a huge bed made completely of wood and even though it was about 40 ° C in here (caused to a massive fire burning in a fireplace a couple of meters away from the end of the bed), someone decided to wrap me in what felt like a ton of furs.
The house, (if you even could call it that) seemed to have no windows, so it was very dark.
It took me a while to figure out that this was not a dream.
No, it was reality!
I figured out that this couldn`t be some crazy one night stand after me getting VERY drunk.
I came to the conclusion, that someone must have played a sick prank on me.
However, every thought on how and why I got here, was gone within seconds when I abruptly realized something that made me scream in shock and panic!
I was completely naked.
It’s been a week since these events took place.
It took me a while to figure out, what happened.
I travelled back in time to the 9th century.
Yup, that's my life...
I still had no clue as to how and why I ended up here, but I learned that I was in a place named Kattegat ruled by king Ragnar.
His youngest son Ivar was the one that found me that morning unconscious on the beach.
I was told, that the cold nearly killed me, so I was stripped down and put in this room under those furs to sweat out all the bacteria.
I remembered my grandmother always doing the same when I was ill as a child, so I believed them when I was told that that was the reason why I was naked.
Since my arrival in Kattegat, I was under the care of the Ragnarsons.
I came to the conclusion, that it was better not to tell them where I came from.
I was allowed to walk through Kattegat but they were always watching over me.
especially Ivar.
He claimed me as his with the justification, that he was the one that found me.
However, I tried my best to fit in but, let's just say it was difficult.
It was my second day here in Kattegat and I was told to serve Ivar and his brothers their breakfast this morning. Even though I had a problem doing what I was told as I saw no reason in doing so, I figured out it would help me fit in.
However, things got a little bit out of hand...
When I was almost done with putting everything on the table, I felt a hand squeezing my butt.
When I turned around slowly trying to keep calm I saw Sigurd smirking right up at me.
That was a mistake.
The noise of my palm hitting his face was a reminder of that.
“What the hell slave” Hvitserk called out in shock.
But Hvitserks comment caused my blood to boil completely.
“Do NOT dare to call me a slave again! I shouted.
”I am equal to you and I am not anyone's property.”
“NEVER forget that unless you want me to give your balls a reminder of that for the rest of your life.”
“I would not mess with her” Ubbe said while smirking slightly.
well well well, it seems like there were a lot of things to fix around here...
The following week's things in Kattegat changed...
No one doubted the things (Y/N) said.
Everybody thought she was some kind of a god or someone that was able to heel injuries nobody else could.
At first, everyone was sceptical. I mean come on, how could you not be if suddenly she would start singing “shake it off” and shuffle dance during a feast when she was told to dance.
Even Hvitserk stopped eating.
Or when she talked about something called “Infinity War”, “Avengers” and “Thor” being defeated by a purple giant...
But people started trusting her when she healed Björns arm, on her fourth day in Kattegat.
From this day on, people started calling her “the wise”.
“How many times did I told you how important it is, to wash your hands before dinner? I told you about bacteria and stuff, remember?”
I shouted when I caught Hvitserk stealing some food from the table before washing his hands.
“By the way, where is Ivar ?” I asked a bit suspicious.
“I don`t know, Hvitserk answered while looking at his shoes.
I was about to push further when the doors of the great hall opened and Ivar crawled inside.
covered in blood.
“oh no, no no no NO” was all I repeated, when I walked over to him and dragged him over to the can of fresh water by his ear.
I insisted on always keeping some fresh water in the dining hall.
A little bit of hygiene couldn`t hurt.
“IVAR!” I shouted while letting him go next to the water can.
“You gonna get sick!”
“Your wounds from this ridiculous fight yesterday are still open. If blood comes in the wound and you and the other person don`t have the same blood type, you will get clotting problems and you gonna die because your blood will bind with the other’s cells and... I tried to explain.
“Nonsense” Ivar growled quietly.
He was really too stubborn for his own good.
“Dude really? You still don`t trust me?”
Dude? Is that some sort of insult? Sigurd asked curiously.
Yup and here we go again...
“I don`t know about you Sigurd but I think you and Ivar owe me some trust after all I`ve done. You should be ashamed of yourself. Both of you.”
That was all I said, before leaving the hall.
Later that evening I was about to leave the great hall to go to bed when I heard someone talking.
I became curious and tried to listen in to the conversation.
"What is it Ivar, why were you so suspicious and reserved towards Y/N?" Ubbe asked. "We decided to trust her."
"She is scary" Ivar answered quietly.
I smiled to myself.
Who would think that the mighty Ivar the boneless would be afraid of somebody?
Maybe, things would work out between the boys and me.
