Synopsis: One night Ragnar has a casual hook up with a young bartender in New York. He expects this to be their only encounter. He’s dead wrong.
Pairing: Modern!Ragnar x Reader
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He was beautiful. He may have been at least two decades older but it hardly felt like it in bed. His body was sculpted like a Greek statue, an ddespite the forming wrinkles, he was one of the most attractive men in the bar that night.
It had been rainy, and an altogether high traffic evening; everyone from travelers to people getting off of work popped in for a drink. The job had its perks, so occasionally I would get to meet local celebrities or athletes no one really knew of. What I didn’t expect was to serve scotch to the man that owned more than half the town.
My hand grips the bottle as I pour a double for the man in the suit. Talk about a high profile customer. Jessica had claimed she had once served Britney Spears, but nobody actually believed her. I slide over the glass and set the bottle back down in its place.
“Midnight on a Tuesday, and you’re buying drinks in a run down bar. So, how bad was today?” I ask, leaning on my hand as I wait for an answer. The man gives a sly smirk and sighs.
“Actually, it wasn’t bad. It was horrible. A dozen workers quit today and then on top of all of that my car was stolen. So, shit day if you ask me.” He responds, and I nod, pouting another glass for him as he finishes his first.
“That sounds pretty horrible, but, the upside is that the good days feel better after the shit days.” I respond, cleaning off a spot farther down the bar and watching as the last customer leaves. The man looks around, and then at a sign behind me.
“I guess you are right young lady, beautiful and witty. Tell me, you have a husband? A fiancé?” He inquires, and I blush slightly as I shake my head. Of course I wasn’t supposed to hookup with the customers, but one this hot, I’d have to make an acception for.
“No sir, just me. Long shifts and college classes don’t leave much time for socializing. I’m lucky to be able to have enough time to sit down and have a real meal once a week.” I confide and pour myself a glass of water. As I turn around I can feel his eyes glued to my ass.
“Hmm... so, how about you head home with me? Assuming you have no kids or houseplants back at home. We can both relieve some tension.” He smirks and holds out a hand. I smile and continue closing up before walking to the door with him.
“This is totally against any rules we have here but let’s do it.” I smile and follow the man out the door. Could he be a serial killer? Yes. Could he be a rapist? Yes. But he’s so cute, so I ignore my inner voices and leave with him.
He guides me to what I can only assume is an incredibly expensive car, and helps me into the passenger seat. We drove to an neighborhood that looks like something out of a movie, and he pulls up to a large home. He helps me out and leads me into the home.
We walk inside of the building and I marvel at the lavishly decorated walls. All tasteful, and no doubt quite expensive. “Wow, this is a beautiful home...” I trail off, searching for a name.
“Thank you. You can call me Ragnar. Daddy gets me worked up too so feel free to call me that. And what shall I call you young lady?” He smirks as he leads me to the kitchen, bringing a bottle of wine out from under the counter and pouring two glasses.
I blush ever so slightly at his comment, and smile, sitting down on barstools across from him. “Oh, my name is (Y/N). You can call me that.” I grin and take the glass as he slides it across the granite towards me.
“Beautiful name. Fitting for such a beautiful woman.” He comments, finishing up his glass of wine before refilling mine. The two of us make small talk as we finish not two, but grew bottles of wine. By the end of the second bottle I’ve started to let my guard down, and have started to trust him more than I had originally.
Halfway through the third bottle I start to feel hot, so naturally I remove my jacket, and then my shirt. I watch as Ragnar hawks at my chest, and grab his hand, standing on somewhat shaky legs. “Cmon Daddy. Let’s go somewhere comfy.” I say, tugging on his arm in no particular direction.
Clearly the older man holds his wine better than I do, so he guides us to a bedroom, where he lays me on the plush bed. I watch as his fingers quickly unbutton the black buttons lining his shirt, and smirk as the shirt hits the floor. He kneels over me and I shimmy out of my jeans, helping him to unzip his pants and push them off of his hips. After a few heated kisses and a few accidental elbow jabbings, we’re both naked horny messes.
Ragnar’s heavy breath fans against my face as his large hands reach down to rub my clit. “What should I do first?” He asks, more speaking to himself than me, I assure myself. I watch as two of his large fingers delve into my dripping hole. After what feels like only a second, he swiftly removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock.
Surely I must have miscalculated its size, because by the time his shaft it about halfway emerged into my heat, I feel more full that I ever have. My quiet moans aren’t enough for him, so his voice finally booms out about the sounds of skin slapping and nearly silent moans and groans.
“Say my name. Say my name. Fuck- so tight- so good.” He groans out before burying his head into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my shoulder. I whimper and let my nails dig farther into his shoulder.
“R-Ragnar! Fuck! Please- fuck me harder please!” I beg him, watching as a pleased look spreads across his face, and his hips piston harder into mine, leaving me feeling even more full, of that’s even possible.
His hips slamming into mine and his finger persistently circling my clit lead me to my orgasm quicker than expected. I feel his hot semen fill my belly only seconds after my own orgasm, and after a quick second of panick, I calm, assuring myself that this hookup couldn’t get me pregnant. I’m on the pill. He pulls out and pumps himself, shooting his remaining load onto my chest and stomach.
By the time his body falls next to mine in bed, I’m sleeping, after a long shift and a good fuck, I can’t keep my eyes open, and in the comfortable bed I find myself asleep in seconds.
I wake early, earlier than him, and collect my clothing, scrambling down the marble stairs to retrieve my shoes and jacket. I check my phone and see that it’s well past 8. I’m late for my lecture, shit. I’m out of the house in ten minutes. Hopefully he doesn’t remember me, I sure as hell don’t want him to.
After one hell of a pleasant night, and 6 unpleasant months of pregnancy, I’m now the heavily pregnant bartender. My boss knows that I need to hours with a baby on the way and no father in the picture, so he lets me work the slower days when I won’t get people critisizing me for working in a bar while carrying a child.
It’s Sunday, nearly 5pm, our slowest time, so I sit down behind the bar and munch on some peanuts, waiting for customers. Just before closing, a man comes in with a heavy raincoat on. I know I recognize him just by the way he walks. So confident. So sure of every step. He sits down at the bar and my eyes dart up.
“What can I get you, sir?” I ask and my smile slowly drops as I finally get a good look at his face. I see his face doesn’t hold a smile either.
“How about a fucking explanation? What kind of bullshit move is this? Who set you up to this? You don’t think I haven’t had attention whore gold diggers try this before?” He berated me with questions and I feel sick and attacked, tears welling in my eyes. I go to defend myself and he immediately cuts me off.
“You planned this all, didn’t you. It must have been your fucking plan to have your face on the magazines, huh? Yeah? I hope you don’t expect me to pay shit unless I see a paternity test. This is fucking ridiculous!” He yells, not giving me a second to talk. By the time he’s finished yelling, the cook has come out from the back and is staring at the man. He walks over, telling Ragnar that he can’t speak to the workers that way, and asks him to leave. After a while, he storms out. I close up, tears still running down my face, and grab my bag.
I walk out of the back door and see him again. My feet carry me faster towards my apartment and I hear the patter of his feet getting closer. I have a sudden rush of confidence and stop abruptly, turning around.
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, embarrassing me at work and making me feel like shit. I didn’t plan to get knocked up by you, because hey, newsflash, you’re a real assholes I don’t want a penny of child support and I sure as hell don’t want to be anywhere near you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Why do you think I never got in contact? I’m just fine raising him on my own , thank you. Now please fuck off. Thank you.” I yell back at him and walk faster towards my apartment. When I arrive I see him a still trailing me, but when I glance back once again, he’s gone.
I spend the next month trying to forget him, and forget the fact that my son will be born without a father. Sure, it’ll be hard, but since dropping out I’ve had a lot more money to buy nursery furniture and clothing for him, and I can start working regular days once my bump goes away. I assure myself that out little family would be alright.
That’s when it happens. On the way home from work te car comes speeding down the street and I feel as if I’m watching from outside of my body as the vehicle strikes me, leaving me on the hot asphalt. Blood drips down into my mouth as I lay there, and I feel a pair of arms embrace me as I lose conciousness.
When I wake, I’m in a hospital bed, and I look around the room to see a bouquet of beautiful pink and white flowers. Surely I’d had no visitors. Who visits a pregnant bartender? The answer to that question walks right in the door with a bottle of water not a minute later. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and even though he looks like hell, it’s still a nice look on him.
He rushes to my side and gives me a sad smile. “Hey, the baby is okay. He’s doing great. I’m sorry about all the shit I said. You know, I get it if you don’t want to forgive me. I’d understand. But please let me help with my son. Let me pay for the medical bills and pay for whatever he needs and if you don’t want to let me see him, fine. But please let me help.” He whispers and I can see the gear streaming down his face.
“How did you find me?” I ask, straightening in my bed. His eyes look down, avoiding my gaze, and he sighs.
“I had... I had my men, my security following you. To make sure that you were both safe. I’m glad a did. God knows how long you might have been there. Hours? We were just in time. He’s okay, didn’t feel a thing.” He says, and even though the thought of this asshole being in my sons life slightly upsets me, I feel comforted that he wants to help raise his son.
“No money. Just help. Just help me get to appointments and help me with the new Mom stuff. Maybe a month’s rent but I’ll pay you back for anything. I have to admit I was pissed at how you acted at first but I guess I understand where you were coming from. If you want to be in his life, I’m not going to stop you.” I say, and take a deep breath in, watching as his arms wrap around my small figure.
“Thank you. Thank you.” He whispers as he buries his face into my hair.
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