Summary: You married a man who didn’t love you, but you chose to love him anyway. Through quiet care and devotion, you gave him healing he never thought possible.
You were not the wife he wanted.
You knew it the moment Queen Aslaug placed your hand in Ivar’s before the gods. You felt it in the stiffness of his grip, in the way he looked through you and not at you.
“A union blessed by the gods,” Aslaug had said, smiling gently at her son. “She is clever, gentle. She will be good for you, Ivar.”
Ivar did not reply.
He only walked away from the wedding fire when the ritual ended, leaving you alone among the ash and shadows.
And yet, you stayed.
You were his wife now. You were bound to him.
Even if he hated you.
He ignored you most days. Barely spoke to you unless forced. When he did, his words were sharp and cold, meant to push you away.
Still, you watched him. Quietly.
The way pain twisted his features in the morning. The tremble in his hands when he forced his legs into motion. The anger he swallowed, the shame he masked with cruelty.
You saw it all. And your heart ached.
Because, unlike him, you wanted this marriage.
You had admired him for years.
Not just his mind or his fierce spirit, but the way he carried himself despite the world’s cruelty.
You saw a man carved by pain, and you longed to soften its edges. To help him heal.
So you sought out old healing texts. Spoke to volvas in secret.
Traded furs for rare herbs. Brewed tinctures to strengthen bones, to ease pain, to mend where time had been unkind.
And every night, you added it to his drink.
Quietly. Carefully.
You knew he wouldn’t accept it if he knew.
It happened on a stormy night.
He came home from the training fields, soaked and furious, dragging mud into the hall.
You had already prepared his food, placed the warm cup of brew beside it as always.
You smiled, ready to leave him in peace.
But his eyes were already on you.
“What is this?” he snapped, lifting the cup. “You give me this every night. Do you think I don’t notice?”
Your breath caught. He was holding it like it was poison.
“It's nothing. Just herbs, to help you rest-”
He threw the cup against the wall. It shattered, making you flinch.
“Do not lie to me,” he growled. “Are you trying to kill me, Wife? Is that how much you hate being mine?”
His voice was venom. His hatred, a sword.
You swallowed hard. Your hands trembled, but you didn’t back down.
“It’s not poison,” you said quietly. “It’s medicine. For your legs.”
He stared at you. Something in his eyes cracked.
“What?”
“I asked the volvas. Searched scrolls from the East. It's a mixture of roots and silverleaf, it's meant to help rebuild strength in damaged bones. You’ve been in less pain lately, haven’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
You stepped closer.
“I just wanted to help. I know you didn’t want this marriage. You don’t even like me. But I still see you. And I care. Even if you never… feel the same.”
Silence fell.
The storm outside raged, but in the hall, it was still.
Ivar looked at you, truly looked at you, for the first time since your wedding night.
“You’ve been doing this… for how long?”
“Since the second week we wed.”
He lowered his gaze. You saw the war in him, between pride and pain, between mistrust and something softer.
“You are a fool,” he said. But his voice had lost its edge. “A stubborn, strange little fool.”
You turned to leave, swallowing your humiliation.
“Wait.”
You stopped.
He rose from his bench with difficulty, but stood nonetheless. He looked at you, blue eyes unreadable.
“I’ve been walking farther. I thought it was the gods.” A pause. “You’re the one who did it.”
You nodded slowly.
He stepped toward you.
“Why?”
Your voice was barely a whisper. “Because I love you.”
The words stunned the air.
He didn’t speak. He only looked at you, and for the first time, you saw no hatred in his eyes. Only confusion, and something like awe.
He reached for your hand, his fingers trembling.
“Sit with me,” he said. “Stay tonight.”
You hesitated. Then nodded.
That night, for the first time, Ivar did not eat alone. And when you touched his hand beneath the firelight, he didn’t pull away.
The fire crackled low, and outside, the rain turned soft, tapping gently on the roof like the gods themselves were listening.
You sat beside him, closer than ever before, your hands folded in your lap, unsure of what to say now that you’d spoken the truth.
You had confessed love to a man who never once gave you kindness.
But tonight… he had not turned away.
Ivar’s eyes were unreadable, but they didn’t look through you anymore. They held you.
“How long have you loved me?” he asked, voice quiet as the flames.
You hesitated, but answered honestly. “Since before the wedding. I admired your strength. Your cleverness. The way you held your head high when the world gave you every reason not to.”
He looked away at that, jaw tight. “You saw something good in me. Even when I couldn’t.”
You nodded.
“And yet I treated you like the enemy.”
You gave him a soft smile, one born of pain, not pity. “You were protecting yourself. I understand.”
He exhaled through his nose. Then, after a long silence:
“No one has ever done what you’ve done for me. Not like that. Not in secret. Not without asking for something in return.”
You turned toward him. “I didn’t want anything. Just… for you to be in less pain.”
He looked at you then, and something cracked open behind his gaze.
“Come here,” he murmured.
Slowly, cautiously, you moved toward him.
Ivar shifted with effort, wincing as he opened his arms, awkwardly at first, as if the gesture were unfamiliar. And perhaps it was. You had never touched more than his hand or shoulder since the wedding.
But now…
You moved into his embrace.
He wrapped his arms around you, hesitantly at first… then tightly. Desperately. As if the idea of being held like this might break him, but also save him.
His forehead pressed into your neck, and you felt it.
The tremble.
The breath he was holding.
The surrender.
“I don’t know how to love,” he whispered, voice cracking. “But I want to try.”
You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.
“You don’t have to know how,” you whispered. “Just let it happen. We’ll find the way together.”
His eyes searched yours for a long, breathless moment.
And then—he kissed you.
It was not rough or hurried like you'd imagined it might be. It was soft. Curious. Full of unfamiliar tenderness. The kiss of a man learning, trusting, hoping.
And when he finally pulled away, his hands stayed on your face like he couldn’t bear to let go.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered.
“I’m yours,” you replied. “I always have been.”
That night, you didn’t lie on opposite sides of the bed like you had for so long. You curled into him, warm under furs, his arm wrapped around you protectively. He fell asleep with his face in your hair, breathing you in.
And for the first time since your wedding, he didn’t wake from nightmares.
He only dreamed of you.
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
Wattpad
/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
Summary: Lagertha's gift of a daughter and Ragnar's monster of a son have loved one another for far too long. But things in Kattegat are fragile, and the two now must make choices.
Warnings: mostly spoilers for S4b
A/n: I had to break this into sections. Trust that p2 is gonna get serious real fast.
Masterlist
........................................
The Seer had been right.
Lagertha would never give Ragnar a son, never bearing one after her Bjorn. But when Earl Kalf came into her life, she suddenly found herself with child.
There was little hope that the child would make it. After all, the Seer said so.
But a daughter?
Lagertha's second chance to make up for the death of her sweet Gyda. She held the babe close.
And yet.
No one predicted that she'd one day end up in the arms of Ivar the Boneless.
…
"It seems like a death sentence," she explained to Ivar. "Suicide, even."
"My father wants me to go," Ivar shrugged. "He needs me. I can't say no to that. To the gods."
She sighed. He was beyond stubborn. A true Ragnarsson trait.
She often traveled between Hedeby and Kattegat, staying with Bjorn when here. It was a strange thing to have her around, but Bjorn was the Prince of Kattegat, so others didn't have much room to question.
Plus, the Ragnarssons didn't mind a bit.
She was neither the daughter of Ragnar or Aslaug, but because of her connection to Bjorn, she was a sister to all five of them.
Well, four of them.
Ivar's love had always gone beyond that. As did hers for him.
"What if you go with Bjorn instead?" She tried. Her hand stretched out over his. "To the Mediterranean."
His head lulled. "My brothers have always doubted me. Not my father. He knows what the gods have in store for me."
"And what if all that is store is your death?"
He ran his tongue across his teeth. "Then I will die."
"Marry me before you go," she rushed out, immediately caving in once it was uttered.
"I will not risk making you a widow before you get to truly be a wife."
She felt tears well up in her eyes. She was never the strong one around. Lagertha swore to have a peaceful reign when she became Earl. There was no need to teach her daughter the hardships of being a shield maiden. She had no need to- Lagertha on one side and Bjorn on the other always. Gyda was so soft. So kind. Y/n was no different, only older. She had a chance to grow up kind.
"Don't cry," Ivar huffed. He had no idea what to do with tears. "I'll be back soon enough."
"Swear to it."
He shook his head. "I will not swear if I don't know the will of the gods."
"Then swear you'll marry me if you return."
He couldn't stop another scoff, "woman-"
"-Ivar, please."
"Ivar!" Aslaug's voice interrupted.
The queen stepped into the room, her worry turning to amusement at the sight of the two. She'd always had an odd relationship with Lagertha. How strange was fate to bring their children together?
"Let me speak to my mother," Ivar gently waved.
Y/n nodded and stood, but her wrist was caught by him. "I swear to it," he remarked, looking her firmly in the eye.
…
Lagertha had come to Kattegat with the help of Torvi and Margerette. She hadn't dragged Y/n into the plans.
So when she took Kattegat, Y/n stood at the sidelines in shock, even letting out a shriek when Aslaug fell to the ground dead.
She wanted to feel betrayed by her mother. She should have. But she couldn't find it in herself. Lagertha had sat on the sidelines for too long as her world was taken away.
So she was torn when Ubbe and Sigurd had come to her privately.
"How are you not angry," Ubbe lectured his brother. "Our mother is dead."
"And it is for the best," Sigurd huffed. "Y/n's mother is the only one around here that knows how to truly mother. Look at Bjorn."
"Y/n?" Ubbe questioned.
She sat with her head in her hands, utterly confused by it all. "I won't choose sides."
"We all know it will come to it eventually."
She lifted her head with a heartbroken look. "Then I side with Bjorn. The side he chooses, I follow."
Ubbe nodded. "Very well. So, we wait for Bjorn."
"No," Sigurd shivered. "We wait for Ivar more."
The three exchanged nervous glances.
…
Ivar had returned first. Carried by soldiers of King Ecbert's guard, he was set onto the wooden dock of Kattegat.
She couldn't muster the strength to go welcome him. He wouldn't find out such devastating news from her.
But the next day, Ivar crawled his way into the feast hall with his picks. The entire room quieted as they waited for what the angry son of Aslaug would say.
His eyes slowly trailed from Lagertha, to Torvi, to Astrid, then finally, Y/n.
She stood to the side, a completely guilty expression strung across her face.
No one was immune to noticing the way his eyes glued themselves to her in every room.
It had been like that since her first visit to Kattegat.
It's what finally drove the stake between Sigurd and Ivar. The love Bjorn had for Y/n that he never had for his own daughter, Siggy. And how Sigurd had loved little Siggy.
Y/n's life was always a comparison to one's already dead. All did it but Ivar. Perhaps that is why she was so content to be stuck in his web.
When Largertha refused Ivar's challenge, he was becoming angrier. He knew his easiest chance to kill her was by hand-to-hand combat. Ivar was a cripple, but a damn good one.
"I will kill you, Lagertha. Your fate is fixed," he growled.
Content with his threat, he looked back to Y/n, pulling a chain from around his neck.
A ring.
She felt something in her stomach twist at the shimmer that crossed her vision. His fingers rubbed over it a few times, egging for a reaction from the girl he promised to marry.
He let the chain drop to his chest with a smirk. Especially when her eyes followed it.
…
As soon as the meeting was adjourned, she rushed out to Ragnar's old cabin. The children had found it when he'd left, and it was their designated space away from the rest of the world. Plus, that was all the boys had to live in now. Ivar would be there.
She rushed in, not caring that the other brothers were gathered around. "Ivar?"
The three others looked at one another with questioning glances before completely packing up and walking out. The brothers weren't about to intervene.
The door closed before Ivar finally spoke. "What do you want?"
"Are you not grateful to be home? To be back? To be the only survivor?" She sat next to him, her voice lowering. "Are you not happy to see me?"
He scoffed, turning away.
"I didn't know, Ivar. I swear to you."
"Seems like we enjoy making swears we don't intend to keep, hm?" He mocked.
Her eyes moved down to the chain again. She sat up straighter and brushed a hand over his chest. Over the ring. "You truly won't marry me now?" She asked softly.
His hand wrapped around her wrist gruffly. But after the initial touch, his grip softened. His jaw was clenched, his anger unchecked. But he couldn't help the flutter that still moved through his chest. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't know if I want children with traitor blood."
Her fingers twiddled with the ring. "You know better than I that we don't choose our mothers. The gods do."
"And yet, you'll never help me get my revenge."
"No," she agreed. "I won't."
His eyes wandered over her face. The anger bubbled under his skin. But not at her. And that frustrated him more. "I'll still marry you. But you cannot fault your future husband when he has his revenge."
"But Bjorn will-"
"-That is my offer to you, my love. If you want this ring," he offered, pulling the chain from around his neck and setting it on the wooden table, "Then that is your choice. I have taken my stand. You know what I will do. Will you still marry me?"
She stared down at the jewelry. She'd longed for this for years now. Being his wife.
This could make or break everything.
"I… I don't know," she admitted back to him.
"You don't know?"
"I should wait. For Bjorn to come back. And Hvitserk."
He set a heavy hand on her thigh. Not menacing, but not softly either. "Will you ever choose things for yourself? Or will you wait on Bjorn hand and foot as he decides your fate?"
"Ivar-"
"-No. I do not mind if you must think on it more. But do not do what Bjorn says purely because you think it is right. He makes mistakes." His head tipped down and his gaze turned menacing. "You will choose."
She nodded. "I need time."
"Good," his voice lightened. He even managed a smile. His body leaned forward like he was thinking of kissing her, but he paused and gave a quick nod of his head in acceptance. Then he looked at the ring and her one last time before pulling himself down to the floor and leaving.
She exhaled a long breath, taking the chain and placing it around her neck, tucking it away.
…
Another feast, another problem.
Y/n wasn't far off from Torvi and Astrid, hearing them speak about something being wrong as the large doors closed.
"Like what?" Astrid asked.
"I don't know, but something."
Sigurd let out a small grunt as someone grabbed him from behind and held him at knifepoint. That began a whole group coming forward and grabbing at Lagertha's shield maidens and earls alike, restraining them all.
A hand grabbed Y/n's wrist, holding it out.
Ivar's ring was wrapped around her finger. She'd chosen.
Whoever it was dropped her hand entirely and stepped away from her, meaning she stood amidst the chaos, entirely left alone.
Everyone began to part, and Y/n tucked away towards Sigurd. Her hand grabbed the wrist of the man holding him in an attempt to pry him away.
Ivar and Ubbe approached Lagertha's throne. Lagertha was rather unfazed by it, standing and grabbing her sword slowly. She was a fighter to the end.
Ivar was impressed by her willingness to face him. He sat up with his spike as Ubbe circled around the queen.
The tension could be cut with a knife. Waiting for someone to make the first move.
The door burst open, and in walks Bjorn.
"If you kill her, my brothers," he sauntered, "you'll have to kill me too."
Y/n and Sigurd both let out relieved sighs. The argument was far from over. But with Bjorn there, the fight would not be one-sided.
"Maybe we should," Ivar warned.
"Shut up," Ubbe immediately countered. He respected Bjorn immensely, and starting conflict with Ironside was like starting to dig your own grave. "She killed our mother," he mentioned. Bjorn would see where he was coming from. Surely.
"I know. You want revenge. So would I." He took in a deep breath. "But more importantly, we have to avenge our father. That is why I came back. And that," he tapped his axe against Ivar's cheek, "is what we are going to do."
Lagertha smiled and threw down her sword, prompting the rest to follow.
As Sigurd was let go, Y/n immediately tended to him, rubbing a soft hand over his neck at the irritated skin.
Frustrated, Ubbe and Ivar left.
She was torn between following them and staying with Bjorn and Lagertha.
But after speaking to the new queen, Bjorn spotted her. That made the decision. She approached him, smoothing out her dress as she weaved through everyone.
Within a few minutes, the feast began again like nothing had happened, but Bjorn was still far from jovial.
She wasn't even sure the viking knew what that word meant.
"So, I travel all the way past Frankia, through pirated seas and storms, I keelhaul my own uncle, and still," he grumbles, "things turn to ruin here the moment I turn away."
"Since I watched her sleep with my father the first time they met, yes. Yes, I have," he complained. "But our mother has caused a rift that I'd rather not have now. I have revenge of my own to get and I need my brothers in order to do it."
"You have your brothers," she pointed out. "Of Ragnar's wrongful death, you all agree."
"I will not play guard to mother's kingdom more than I did before. I want to sail. To travel."
"Then don't."
He let out a long sigh. "This is why I love the sea. It is predictable. People are not. Like you," he pointed his cup towards her.
"Like me?"
"You wear a ring and you say nothing about it. You have not asked for my allowance. Let me see it." He held out a large hand, to which she slipped the band off and gave to him.
Bjorn flipped it in his palm a few times before a daunting thought came over him. "Where did you get this?" He questioned roughly. "Who is proposing with this ring? I'll kill him."
"Brother," she scoffed. "Why the sudden rage?"
"Does mother know?" He asked in complete ignorance of her previous question.
"No. No, and she won't. Not right now."
"I'll ask one more time," Bjorn growled, leaning across the table. "Who is proposing with Mother's ring?"
Oh.
Where had Ivar gotten Lagertha's ring?
"Our mother wore this ring until the day she and I left Ragnar. Her wedding band. Now answer the question, sister."
"Give it back, Bjorn." She tried to muster up confidence. It didn't quite work.
Bjorn's lips quirked up at that, all too amused. "I don't think I will. I think I'll hold onto this until you decide to ask for my blessing."
"That is cruel!"
He shrugged. "I don't care. Either you tell me now or he can come get it from me himself."
She let out a tantrum-like grunt and stood up, her chair scrapping against the wood. She weaved through the crowd and finally out into the cold air.
…
The journey was a little harder in the dark than she'd thought. The air was cold and frigid, and she was far from dressed for it. The wind chilled her immensely, traveling down her bones. Her chattering teeth exhaled a visible breath when she saw the cabin.
"Ivar? Ivar!" She called out as she neared.
Hvitserk was the one to come out with a concerned brow raised.
Y/n felt guilty, still not welcoming Hvitserk after the raid. She all but collapsed into his chest, wrapping her arms around him and finally relaxing.
Hvitserk froze for a moment. Touch was never his thing. "You miss me?"
"Like hell," she mumbled against his chest.
He chuckled and circled his arm around her. "Already using Christian phrases, hm? Don't let Ivar hear you. Congratulations, by the way."
It was her turn to freeze, her head tilting up until she looked straight up at him. "What?"
"You're to be married, are you not? He said so." At her hum of agreement, he rubbed a hand down her back. "You're freezing, sister. You'll catch a chill if I don't get you inside."
He guided her in. The warm air from their small fire immediately caused a shiver down her body. Hvitserk frowned and held a hand to her forehead. "Gods. I'd think you were half dead like this."
That caught Ivar's attention. His head snapped up, his entire body relaxing at the sight of her. "Did you travel this far like that?" He questioned, his hand motioning to her lack of heavy clothing.
She stepped to the fire, sitting down next to Ubbe. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to transfer some of his heat. After all, he'd been scheming over the flames for a while now. He could afford to give some of the warmth up.
Ubbe gave a small glare to Ivar, effectively telling him to drop the question. "Let me see this ring Ivar said so much about."
Her face dropped. "Oh. I… it's…"
One by one, the siblings realized that something was not quite right and Ubbe should have minded his own business. In all honesty, it was a fair ask. One that usually is fine to ask to an engaged woman.
Ivar let out a long, loud breath. He seethed from his place at the table. "Where is it? I was told it was on your finger only hours ago."
How to explain that Bjorn had taken it without Ivar immediately growing angry? After all, Ironside didn't know that it was Ivar's. It wasn't personal at all. But that's not how Ivar saw things.
"Where is it?" He asked in a firmer tone. His head tilted. His tongue ran over the back of his teeth. "Did someone take it from you?"
"Don't be angry-"
"-No I AM ANGRY!" He yelled. "Tell me yes or no. Have you gone back on your word?"
"Ivar," Ubbe scorned. "Let the woman speak." He pulled a piece of hair from her face. "Go on."
She sniffled and moved closer to the fire to warm her hands. She stared at her ring finger longingly. "I do, Ivar. I want to marry you."
Hvitserk smirked widely, peering at his brother in a tease. His brother. In love.
Ivar exhaled in a hidden form of relief. "Alright."
"I did not tell Bjorn about it yet. I wanted to wait…"
"-But?" Ubbe interrupted.
"But Bjorn saw it before I could." She frowned. "Where did you get Lagertha's ring?"
Every head shot to Ivar in shock.
He shrugged. "Father gave it to me. On our way to Wessex. I told him that we would marry when I returned and he gave me the ring. Chain and all. He said he'd worn it around his neck since the day your mother left him."
Hello! Can u do the sharing bed with the Lothbrok brothers, please? <3
Ragnar + Sons | Sharing a bed for the first time
{Vikings TV Masterlist}
Ragnar, Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Ivar
Requests for headcanons / reactions / drabbles always open~
Content warning: suggestive themes (Hvitserk)
Ragnar
He, with all his confidence, is not awkward about it at all
He lies across the animal skins, legs spread and hands behind his head, already relaxed and happy
But when he sees you standing there awkwardly, noticing that there is only the one bed to sleep in, he lets out a laugh at you and pats the furs beside him
"Why don't you come lay? I am not that scary."
He is all warmth and silence, a type of tenderness that mixes with power and marks you nervous
When you finally settle down next to him, you notice the lack of space that the small bed has made between you two
When you feel his finger along your arm, you flinch out of surprise, which causes a deep chuckle to rip from his chest before his hand keeps travelling along you
Across your arms, across your hips, and when he realises you are showing no sign of pulling away, it curls around your midsection, and you feel his hot breath against the back of your neck
During the night, he shifts closer, until his chest is against your back and his legs tucked behind yours, enjoying the warmth
Bjorn
Bjorn pretends it is nothing, brushing it off as no big deal
But he is lowkey shitting himself from nervousness, trying to hide it from you
He actually offers to sleep on the floor at first to give you space, which you accept, happy that he is not pushing your comfort zone
But during the night, you grow cold, and you notice his incessant tossing and turning on the floor
And so you call lightly, "Bjorn?"
And he sits up immediately, one hand on the edge of the bed to steady himself
And when he sees you motion for him to join, he does not hesitate
The craving is immediate, without any delay
You open your arms and the covers and he sinks into your touch, brushing his face against yours and tangling your limbs together, your skin rubbing together for warmth
"You are so soft," he mutters as his hands find yours, squeezing them
You only hum in response, tucking yourself closer, trying to quieten your shivers from the cold air
Ubbe
Ubbe emits a steady warmth that invites you in
And he remains gentle, caring, as he always is with you
When you lie down, he gives you space
Leaves the room to let you settle, and only comes back once you are under the covers and half asleep
You wake when he enters (drunk, might I add), and he shushes you when you sit up to see who it is
"Shhh, it's only me, Y/N. Don't worry."
He collapses onto the bed, nearly crushing you in the process, which makes you groan and complain
But he only laughs against the sheets and tucks himself in
But at some point, during the darkness and shuffling of bodies, you notice how close his breathing feels
His head is basically on your shoulder, but you do not move, and neither does he
But he lets in a big inhale, "How the hell do you smell so good?"
You pretend to be asleep out of nervousness, and he only grumbles before tucking himself back into your side, drifting off to a drunken sleep
Hvitserk
It is all laughs and constant teasing from him
A little gossipy, saying "We're just sharing a bed as friends, of course, Y/N. Don't go rubbing on me during the night."
But it is a front, and he uses it as defense for how he's really feeling
Sweaty in the palms, hairs on the back of his neck standing up, being aware of literally EVERY sound you make
But he can't let you know how much this is affecting him
And even the possibility of anything happening between you has him buzzing inside, and he is half worried you could feel the heat radiating off of him
ESPECIALLY when you press up against his back suddenly, complaining about the cold
"You don't mind, do you, Hvitserk? It's only to keep us warm."
You're playing with him; he can hear it in your voice
And it isn't long before his hand reaches back slyly, running along your side, creeping underneath your thin linen shirt with slight hesitation
But you guiding his hand slowly downwards answers his question, and it doesn't take long for him to turn over completely to pay full attention to you
Sigurd
He does not like to face things head on
And so, he skeddles to bed before you do, hoping to fall asleep before you do so he can avoid the awkward chat
Well... he's the one that would be awkward
You can feel the tension as you lay down next to him
Your arm slightly brushed against his bare back and he flinched before grumbling, followed by you whispering a sorry
He only mumbles a "don't worry" before going silent again, but your hand does not go far, and remains against his back
He does not pull away or push you away, and you both accept it as a silent piece of affection that you're both drinking in
And with some bravery, your hand trickles slightly up, fingers dancing along his soft, scarred skin, and he shivers and lets in a deep breathe
"Y/N..." he lets out through a rough breath, "Please don't tease me."
"Tease you with what?" you said through a sickening smirk
But he only groans, "Forget it. Just... keep doing that."
Ivar
Ivar is not one to show affection or gentleness
He is cold and harsh, and so sharing a bed with him isn't gonna be the best experience
He warns you to keep your distance and to not smother him
Which you gladly obey, letting yourself become settled on your side of the bed while you listen to his soft breaths
But during the night, you wake to the feeling of something crawling on your leg, making you jump quickly to only find a small spider
But Ivar basically leaps up and places a hand out, gripping your upper arm tightly with a stressed face
"What's wrong? What is it?" he questioned while shuffling closer to check on you
You're taken aback by his sudden reaction. "Um... nothing, Ivar. Don't worry, just a bug."
The rough man rolls his eyes, then rubs his brow
"Just go back to sleep, Y/N. Nothing's gonna hurt you."
It was less of a reassurance and more like a promise, like he wasn't going to let that happen
It takes a while for you to drift back off, as his hand's grip shadows on your arm like a bruise
Hey my loves, back with another Headcanon! I hope you enjoy it!
Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!
❀Ivar is a jealous person. He’s possessive. He’s insecure, he’s unsure. He’s terrified you are going to leave him or worse someone will take you from him.
❀Ivar’s always got his eye on you. Whenever you're in a room his eyes will follow you everywhere, whilst he keeps an eye on you. Ivar has learnt the art of paying attention fully to the conversation while also keeping an eye on you.
❀Ivar prefers to keep you close. He’ll take you wherever he can. If people wish to argue with him they’ll regret it. He’s got no problem taking a man’s life in order to protect you. Ivar’s known to be his most ruthless when you’re involved.
❀Behind closed doors, you’ll see Ivar’s true insecurity. He finds he can be himself around you. He’ll discuss what is bothering him. It’s never easy to get him to open up. He’ll protest every step until it comes out in an argument.
❀His jealousy can include his brothers. He’s felt like he’s had to compete with them his entire life. It doesn’t change when he enters adulthood. It doesn’t help that his brothers like to make remarks.
❀In regards to jealousy, Ivar can go from zero to one hundred. It often comes out of nowhere, it can lead from a simple remark to a subtle touch you might not recognise.
❀Ivar’s always observing your response, and how you react to someone’s advances. He uses it to reveal your intentions. To try and find any reason why you might be untrustworthy. He refuses to feel weak.
❀Ivar’s often aggressive when he’s confrontational He has no problem protecting what’s his. People will learn one way or another; you are his, and no one is going to take you from him. It is a quick way to make an enemy of him. They will regret it.
Summary: After being pushed by Ivar and the rest of his brothers, Hvitserk finally speaks to the girl he'd been admiring for months, but an unwelcome interruption breaks the conversation before he can get more than her name.
Word Count: 1.1k
The great hall was alive with chatter, but Hvitserk didn't may it any mind. His attention was stuck across the room...on her.
"You are staring again, brother," Ubbe commented gruffly, sipping his ale.
Hvitserk grinned, his eyes not leaving her figure. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Ubbe?"
With a grunt, Ubbe returned to his meal and ignored his younger brother. A few minutes later, Ivar and Sigurd joined them, and all it took was an annoyed glance from Ubbe to cue them in on the situation.
"I don't know about you, Hvitserk," Ivar said, following his gaze to the girl. "But I think I will go talk to her."
Hvitserk finally tore his eyes from her, his lip twitching as he glared at his brother. "You will not, Ivar."
"And who will stop me?" he shrugged. "If you do not wish to speak to her, why can't I?"
Sigurd chuckled at Hvitserk's pouting expression but quickly hid it behind his cup of ale when his older brother's scowl turned to him. He knew they were right, of course, but it was easier to stare from a distance and admire...he didn't even know her name.
He was going to learn it tonight, he told himself as he rose from the table with a grunt. Downing the rest of his almost full cup, Hvitserk wiped his mouth and set off across the room.
Noticing the commotion from her throne, Auslaug watched Hvitserk cross the hall before shooting her oldest son a raised brow. Ubbe did nothing but chuckle and shrug back at his mother. If he was being honest, he was just happy Hvitserk was doing something about his crush. It had been months since the girl first arrived in Kattegat. He'd grown tired of Hvitserk's longing expressions and endless comments about the poor girl he was clearly infatuated with. They ribbed him endlessly about talking to her, but he remained in his seat each time, choosing to look instead of speak.
Hvitserk wove through the crowded hall with more confidence than he felt, the warm buzz of ale bolstering his courage. He thanked the gods he wasn't doing this sober because he probably would still be sitting beside Ubbe, watching her from afar. He ignored the knowing glances from his brothers at the table, especially Ivar, who wore a smirk as wide as the fjord before Kattegat.
Her back was to him, her (y/h/c) hair falling over her shoulders as she laughed at something one of the women beside her had said. Hvitserk couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling his nerves flicker in anticipation.
When Hvitserk reached the empty seat beside her, he hesitated briefly before pulling it out and plopping down in it with forced casualness.
“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, though it was clear he’d already decided to stay.
She glanced at him, her (y/e/c) eyes flickering with curiosity. “It would seem you’ve already made the decision, Hvitserk.”
Her voice was steady but amused, and the way she said his name...like it wasn’t the first time she’d noticed him...sent a spark of surprise through his chest. Hvitserk leaned back in his chair and quickly glanced over his shoulder at his brothers, trying to mask his excitement with a grin.
“Well, I thought it was about time we spoke,” he said, drumming his fingers lightly on the table. “You’ve been in Kattegat for a while now, yet we haven’t been properly introduced.”
She raised a brow, clearly skeptical. “And whose fault is that?”
Hvitserk chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "Fair enough. I guess I could've come over sooner, but...better late than never, yes?"
“You have an interesting way of making first impressions, Ragnarsson,” she replied with a playful glint in her eye. “But I’ll allow it. I’m (y/n).”
Hvitserk’s grin widened. “(Y/n),” he repeated, testing her name out, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. “It suits you.”
“And what exactly have I done to capture the attention of one of the great Ragnar Lothbrok’s sons?” she asked, her head tilted slightly as she studied him.
"You haven't done anything," he said, leaning closer, his grin growing into a cocky smirk. "It's hard to ignore someone who could make even the gods stop and stare."
Heat rushed to (y/n)'s face, and she laughed softly, looking away from his gaze. She knew he was handsome from a distance, but up close...with those eyes and that smirk...she felt herself melting.
She opened her mouth to speak, but a loud voice from behind her beat her to it prompting her name. "Do not let him fool you..."
(Y/n) turned around in her chair to look at the man, but her eyes fell to the ground...or rather who crawled on the ground. "(Y/n)."
Hvitserk groaned audibly, though he didn't look at his brother. "Not now, Ivar."
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Ivar said, smirking as he shakily used Hvitserk's chair to push himself to his feet. He looked between the two of them with a mischievous grin. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s been staring at you like a lost pup for months.”
Leave it to Ivar to ruin a perfectly good conversation. Hvitserk could've strangled him right there.
“Ivar!” Hvitserk snapped, his face flushing as laughter erupted from the nearby tables.
(Y/n) forced herself to regain composure, tilting her head once again as she met his gaze. Her voice came out teasing, though the nervousness beneath was evident. “Is that true, Hvitserk?”
He sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. “I suppose I have been...admiring you. From a distance,” he admitted sheepishly, shooting a pointed glare at Ivar.
“Well, next time, don’t wait so long to speak to me,” she replied with a smile, unable to hide a hint of affection now.
Hvitserk blinked for a moment, stunned. “Next time?”
She didn't answer and instead rose to her feet, leaving him sitting there as she walked toward the doors. Before disappearing into the cold night, she sent him one last smile.
Ivar's laughter followed her departure, his grin as sharp as ever "You're hopeless, poor Hvitserk."
Hvitserk watched her go, a slow grin spreading across his face despite himself. “Maybe. But at least she wants there to be a next time.”
"She will see she made a mistake, brother...once she gets to know you."
His eyes cut over to Ivar, who stared back with raised brows. In one movement, Hvitserk slid his chair back and stood, making Ivar lose balance and flop onto the hard floor with a loud thud.
"Oh no," Hvitserk tutted, staring at his wheezing form with a smirk. he didn't even try to hide it. "You must be careful, little brother."
A/N: message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3
-Some days he likes it rough and on other days he likes it gentle
-He also likes to switch with you. He not only likes to be on top of you, but he loves it so much when you are riding him
-If you are giving him your virginity, he is very gentle and loving the whole time and makes sure that you are okay the entire time
-He loves every single part of you and makes sure that you know it
-He always tells you how beautiful you are.
-And let me tell you he loves dirty talk. He cannot go without it. He even loves to tease you when you both are doing other things outside of the house
-He loves to tease you and make you needy for him
-He also has a very high sex drive. So, expect for him to want to do it a lot
Ragnar was utterly vexed no matter what you did, he did or anyone else your hair was absolutely unruly. Not taking long after even the most intricate braiding or styling of your hair that strands came loose. Eventually good chunks if it would break loose.
Even now as he looked at you there were good sized strands that had wriggled loose, taunting him.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re doing this on purpose to drive me mad.” He smirked while eyeing the offending strands with annoyance.
You couldn’t help but laugh at the face he was making. “I swear I’m not doing anything of the sort.”
“Then what do you do for it to get like this?” He says exasperated apparently going crazy trying to tame your unruly hair.
“Nothing, I do the same as anybody else does around here.” You chuckle.
“It gladdens me to know you find this all amusing.” He says sarcastically still eyeing the strands as if his piercing gaze would be enough to will the strands to fall in line.
You smile. “Maybe just accept that some things you can’t bend to your will. Face it I just have unruly hair.”
He smirks pulling you closer his lips brushing against your ear. “I refuse to accept that, I will get your hair to submit to me eventually. Just like you did.”
