#hvitserk x plus size reader

[crowwritesaway]

Ivar the Boneless Loyal Friend, Raven VI

“You’re telling me she still sees him.” Raven scoffed, walking beside Sebastian. “Yes. She goes every night.” He said, turning to glance at her. “Well, it seems like I need to pay him a visit.”

He nodded. “Arrange a meeting. That’s be all for now.” She said, dismissing him. “Of course.” He replied, walking off.

She sighed. She has to break it off with Ivar. Or I have to get rid of that plaything. Hmmm, clearly I can’t let her decide. For someone who’s next in line for the throne. We’re doomed. She rubbed her forehead.

“And what is my woman doing here?” Hvitserk asked, hugging her from behind. “Taking care of a problem.” You leaned against his back.

“I missed you.” He whispered softly. You smiled, there was nothing more that brought you peace than being in his arms. “I missed you too.”

“Is everything okay? You seemed troubled.” Hvitserk insisted, he hated seeing you like this. He wanted to know to see if he could help you.

“Just something that needs to get fixed.” Hvitserk raised a brow. You were hiding something. Ivar was right. Lately, you had been acting strange. What could it be?

“My love.” You turned around and put your hand on his cheek. He looked down at you, smiling he answered, “Yes.” “I know I have not been myself but I promise. I will be better by tomorrow.” He hummed. He adored you. Trusted you. He laid his forehead against yours. Licking his lips, his dark eyes stared back at your grey eyes. “Are you done for today?” He gripped onto your love handles. You breathlessly replied, “No.” You cursed your duty in your mind. “That’s too bad.” Your back arched. “Hmmm.” You bit your lip. “What have I said about biting my precious lips?” He mockingly asked you. “Not to.” You mischievously replied. “Exactly. Only I can.”

“My heart.” He reluctantly pulled away. “My love.” You said, sighing. I’m lying to him. I’m lying to Ivar. “I’m always with you.” “Forever and ever.” You said finishing his sentence.

“I trust you will be done with whatever is tormenting you.” You nodded. “However, if by tomorrow, I see you frown. I’ll have to know.” He swore. You bit the inside of your cheek. He wasn’t playing around. You knew that. “It’ll be done.” He pulled you towards him by your waist. “I have to go.” You mumbled, leaving your head on his chest. “I know. Before I go, look up.” You furrowed your eyebrows. What?

You looked up. Hvitserk leaned down and pulled you into a heated kiss. You instinctively closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He groaned into the kiss. He gripped your love handles as he guided you back into a tree. “W-wait.” You tried to say. He hinted at you to wrapped your legs around him by tapping you on your left thigh. You shook your head. I need to think. I need to go solve the. The…what was I going to do?

Hvitserk have you a kiss on your neck before taking a step back. You leaned back on the tree. You chest was moving up and down. He looked at you with lustful eyes. “I love you.” He said, smiling. You stared back at him. He waited. “I love you too.” You smiled softly at him.

You managed get a hold of yourself. “Let’s head back.” Hvitserk gestured for you to walk beside him. “Mmmhmm…” You walked over to him.

You both made it out the forest. “I’ll see you around, my heart.” He kissed you and walked off.

You glanced around. “Esperanza. Where is she?” You thought to yourself. You walked over to a maid that belonged to Esperanza. “Esta Esperanza en su habitación. Is Esperanza in her room?” You whispered to the maid. “Si.” She shakily whispered back.

You nodded, made you way to Esperanza’s room. You sneakily entered the house. You didn’t want anyone to notice you and report your presence. Although you had a feeling that Ivar would connect the dots sooner or alter.

You walked into her room. “Esperanza.” She was brushing her hair. She was startled by your presence. She moved to get up. “Don’t. Sit down.” You locked the door.

“Have you ended it?” You said, motioning the unsaid word with your hands.

“Uhh, y-yeah. It’s done.” She said, looking unsure. You leaned forward, saying, “Really.”

You coldly laughed. “That’s not what I’ve been told.” “I-I…are you going to believe a stranger over me.” She said, putting a hand over chest. Yes, I would. Sebastian is devoted to me.

“I’m not joking. You, him, and me are going to have a little chat.” “No!” She angrily refused. “That or I’ll deal with it.” She pursued her lips. She’ll probably kill him. “Fine.” She had no choice.

“Great. I’m glad we came to an understanding.” You clapped your hands. “Set up the arrangement for tonight. At your usual place.” You turned the knob and exited her room. Behind you left a fuming Esperanza.

You bumped into someone as you attempted to leave the house unnoticed. You glance down. Margrethe. She dropped the clothes from the fall.

“Oh, here. Let me help.” You bend down and quickly picked up the clothes. Margrethe was blushing. She couldn’t tell you to stop. It would be offensive. “Here. Sorry about the clothes.” You apologized, you were too lost in your thoughts.

“What are you doing?” You heard Ivar say. “Correcting my mistake.” You replied, looking over your shoulder. Ivar was standing there glaring at Margrethe. He was using his crutches. “Leave.” He ordered Margrethe. Margrethe nodded, leaving quickly before anything bad would happen.

“I thought you would be outside.” Ivar told you. “Oh yeah. I was on my way.” He frowned. At this time, you would be with your men. Ordering them to train. And preparing for that attack you had told him about.

“What where you doing?” He asked, staring at you. “I was taking a nap.” He tilted his head. A nap. Since when do you take naps.

“I was tired. I know it sound weird but I-I had a headache.” You rubbed your head to sound convincing. Ivar nodded. He understood. You were lying to him. He knew you too well. He did ask Hvitserk to see what you were hiding but apparently he needed to do it himself. “Are you better?” Ivar pretended to be concerned. “Yeah, all better. I gotta go.” Ivar nodded. “Yeah. Go ahead.” He said, trying to read you.

“Okay. Bye.” You hurriedly walked away. Shit. Fuck. A nap. Seriously.

Ivar narrowed his eyes. He watched you leave. I need to figure this out before I lose my mind. I’ll join her later. And if I have to, I’ll follow her.

Stay around for more of Ivar the Boneless Loyal Friend, Raven

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#ivar the boneless fanfic #ivar fanfic #ivar the boneless x you #ivar x ofc #ivar x y/n #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x oc #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk x plus size reader #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk fanfic #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings ivar the boneless fanfic

[littlemessyjessi]

Autumnal Activities with the Ragnarssons

Autumn Activities with the Ragnarssons 

. 

PS Reader

Viking Age 

AFAB Reader

. 

Bjorn: 

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

Ubbe: 

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

Hvitserk: 

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

Sigurd: 

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

Ivar: 

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

—--

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

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

I would love to hear what you thought!

Love, K

@toomanyfictionalboyfriends

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@thedarkwinterrose

#vikings #ragnarssons #born ironside #ubbe ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk whiteshirt #sigurd snake in eye #sigurd ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #plus size reader #afab reader #vikings x ps reader #vikings x plus size reader #ubbe x plus size reader #bjorn x plus size reader #hvitserk x plus size reader #sigurd x plus size reader #ivar x plus size reader

[riverkloss]

Love at First Sight (dark hvits & plus reader)

CHAPTER THREE

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

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

•••••••

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apt 32. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More than he should have.

Where does the line end from freedom to loneliness? 

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

She wanted to be looked at. 

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?" Hvitserk questioned impatiently. 

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

"Get out of her underwear, pervert." 

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

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

There's a pause for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

Ivar gently shut her dresser drawer. 

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

A little quiet for a while.

TagList

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

#hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk #marco ilsø #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x plus size reader #creative writing #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader

[angelltheninth]

Viking Men Coming Home from a Battle

Pairing: Ivar, Ragnar, Rollo, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Harekr x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, reunion, kissing, cuddles, injuries, bragging, size difference, bruises, Reader being lifted up

A/N: Did I watch the whole show and its sequel just because Bradley James appears in it for 5 episodes? No, of course not! That's be crazy, that'd be... ok yes I did.

Ivar is already home before you arrive, sitting on the bed and smiling at you. He beckons you closer, pulling you into his lap as soon as you're within his reach. Sweaty as he may be he's not letting you go without giving you a kiss. There needs to be some time that you spend cuddling in his lap before he's ready to let you go, he's missed you, he's missed how you feel, how your soft lips feel on his rough ones. He needs a reminder.

Ragnar announces his return at the door. He leans against the doorframe and waits for you to run into his loving arms, lifting you up and spinning you around and into a kiss. He takes his time kissing you and running his hands over your body, slowly, paying attention to the way your breath stops and the way you gasp. The house smells nice so he can only assume you've been making food, such a shame because it's about to go cold, he needs to bed his wife first.

Rollo brags heavily about his victories and battles long into the night while holding you against his chest. He's loud, laughing and very animated as he talks to you but as soon as he's done he goes quiet as he melts into your embrace, needing your touch as much as he needed that rush of a new conquest. As his lover you find the two sides of him complementary, giggling at his soft smile when you brush his hair off his forehead and give him a soft kiss as welcome.

Ubbe brings you gifts when he comes home, the biggest being his kiss and smile of course but also new rings and necklaces that he's made for you on his way back. He would love to make love to you tonight but he's too tired from battle, so you'll have to settle for him nuzzling his head against your stomach as you run your fingers through his hair, unraveling his braid while he drifts off to sleep, only managing to give you a few sleepy kisses.

Hvitserk sneaks into the house and embraces you from behind, laughing as you struggle which lets you know that its him. Good thing you realized it because you were just about to kick him between his legs. That'd be painful, plus bad for what he has planned for later. But for now he wants to cup your face and gently press kisses to your cheeks. He's back, and he's not letting you leave his side until he has another battle to go to, he's just missed you so much.

Harekr can't wait to get you into his bed. He's kissing you the second he walks through the door, his hands running over your body, trying to get your clothes off, trying to eliminate any barriers between your bodies before he carries you to bed and makes your body familiar with his again. After the fun is done he can devote some time to his bruises and injuries, you take priority to those any day. If he is bruised up them you need some too, less severe and panful but visible non the less.

#vikings x reader #ivar x reader #ragnar x reader #rollo x reader #ubbe x reader #hvitserk x reader #harekr x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ragnar lothbrok x reader #rollo lothbork x reader #ubbe ragrasson x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #vikings headcanons #vikings x you #vikings fluff #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #rollo lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #lord harekr

[somethinginthewayiam]

Masterlist

last updated on 05/19/2023

Henry Cavill Masterlist

Bold stories or chapters are SMUT/NSFW

Chibs Telford (Sons of Anarchy)

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

A new job

Boys will be boys

Party at the clubhouse

Late night

Aftermath

Dress-up

Dress down

Car troubles

Part of the business

Better offer

Lockdown

A New Home

Maybe baby

Oh so horrible

Sebastian Stan

Sebastian x Anna (OFC) Series

Nightcap

The universe can be a bitch  Part 1  Part 2

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

Requests

Morning kisses (Ben Hardy fluff)

Imagines

You win an Oscar (Ben Hardy fluff)

Joe’s daughter (Joe Mazzello fluff)

BoRap Cast

Unexpectedly expecting (Ben Hardy x reader)

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

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

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

PRESSing matters (Ben Hardy x reader)

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

At the BAFTAs after party (main story)

- Gwil Part

- Joe Part

- Ben Part

Alex Hogh Andersen

Temporary Roommate (Alex x Reader)

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

Hvitserk

The gift (Hvitserk x OC x Magrethe)

My AO3 account

#masterlist #henry cavill #chibs telford #ben hardy #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #alex hogh andersen #bohemian rhapsody #vikings #sons of anarchy

[mrsalwayswrite]

Tagged by @emilyhufflepufftlk & @solinarimoon ❤️ thanks for the tag!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

*cracks knuckles* alright...all the wips? Here we go!

-To Call Forth Love (Ivar x OC)

-Of The Same Stone (Uhtred x OC)

-Say You'll Stay (Wardaddy x OC)

-To Be My Night And My Day (Hvitserk x plus size!reader x Sihtric)

-Temptation (Boss!Sigtryggr x reader)

-building forts (Sigtryggr x reader)

-bonfire (this one is a secret)

-Sigtryggr x reader during the seige of Wintanceaster

-Alfie Solomons x Pianist!reader

-Helen of Troy inspired (vikings)

-dangerous things (Tommy Shelby x reader)

-Dark!Tommy Shelby x OC

-Lead Me Home for @morosemagick challenge! (It's definitely going to be late...sorry)

Ummmm....yeah....that's it for the moment. I've got my list of things I haven't started yet.

Tagging (feel free to ignore): @runnning-outof-time @punkrocknpearls @lilyrachelcassidy @youbloodymadgenius @geekandbooknerd @medievalfangirl

[fuckyeahdarcylewis]

Heart of Winter

by BragisRunes

BUCKY X PLUS SIZE FEMME!READER X HVITSERK -> Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes AKA The Winter Soldier had once been tasked with the job of training more super soldiers for HYDRA. Perhaps it was a desperate need to feel safe or perhaps it was love; either way something bloomed between him and one of the soldiers under his tutelage. Who's to say what will happen when they find each other again?

Words: 5687, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Vikings (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Hvitserk (Vikings)

Relationships: Hvitserk (Vikings)/You, Hvitserk (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis

from AO3 works tagged 'James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis' https://ift.tt/VLQgB3i via IFTTT

#IFTTT #darcy x bucky #fanfictions

[plus-size-reader]

Finally

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2070 words

Warnings: FLUFF

Summary: Hvitserk has always seen the reader as a warrior, but sometimes he forgets that she’s a woman too.  

—————————————————————————————————

You weren’t surprised to come upon both Ivar and Hvitserk sitting together, talking between themselves.

They did it often, more so now than ever.

What did surprise you though was when you heard Hvitserk mention how saddened he was that he’d yet to have children.

Of all the things he could have been thinking about in the eve of a great battle, you wouldn’t have guessed it was that but still, you didn’t question it.

In a lot of ways, you could understand where he was coming from.

So, after Ivar moved from his place, you took it over, the same topic of conversation now flooding your mind.

“I think I would like to have them too” you shrugged, allowing yourself to have a seat where his brother had just been, not bothering to rehash the conversation you’d overheard between the two men.

Everyone thought about having children.

It was just how you’d been raised, and how the Gods intended it to be.

It was how your society progressed and how your family's lines kept going. You would have been a fool to pretend that wasn’t the natural order of things, and that it wasn’t what you wanted.

Every woman wanted children.

Your mother had had them, and so had her mother, for as far back as your family had been and of all things, the last you wanted was to put an end to that cycle.

Still, it would have been a lie to say that your admission didn’t shock Hvitserk, at least a little.

In all the time that you’d known one another, he’d never thought about you wanting to have children, or even caring about something like that. Though, clearly, he’d been wrong.

“You’ll catch flies like that” you scoffed, gesturing to your friend's mouth, hanging slightly agape as he considered what you were telling him.

It was odd.

Not that he meant for his reaction to be offensive to you in any way. He just didn't have much control over what his face did when you said things like that.

“Sorry” he shrugged, the word leaving his lips quickly, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, and in a way, he had.

It was unavoidable.

“Do you really want to have them?” he repeated your words back to you, almost in awe of the answer he knew was coming before it could.

It just didn’t make sense.

If you wanted children all this time, why wouldn’t you have said something  before now? Why wouldn’t you have settled down and done it by now?

Most women your age had already married and had a few children by this point, and there was nothing stopping you from doing the same if it was what you really wanted.

“Is that so hard to believe?” you countered, not connecting the dots as to why this was so hard for him to understand.

As he knew well, it was just a part of your lives.

People had children and there was no reason you would be any different.

“I guess not. I just never thought about you as a mother” Hvitserk decided, trying not to offend you with every word he spoke.

You certainly could have been, and anyone would be lucky to have you as a wife, it just didn’t seem like what you wanted before today.

You had always been a great warrior.

You had a warrior’s spirit, and more heart than anyone Hvitserk had ever met.

That skill was something that had defined you as you grew older, and by this point, it seemed as though it was what you were meant to do with your life.

It didn’t surprise him to learn that you were quite skilled on the battlefield, when he finally found himself there, by your side all those years ago.

What did surprise him was the number of times you managed to catch him off guard.

This moment included.

Your desire to start a family genuinely wasn’t something he’d seen coming.

“And you see yourself as a father?” you teased, kicking your foot out just enough to bump his boot with your own, finding the whole thing quite humorous.

Your mother had always said you had the body of a mother, and a wife more than a warrior, but the truth was, neither you nor Hvitserk had ever perfectly fit either mold.

You simply moved in the direction the God’s pointed you without a second thought.

It had always worked for you before.

“Perhaps. There are quite a few things I could teach a child, wouldn't you agree?” Hvitserk doubled down, surely signing himself up for even more ridicule from you but doing it anyway.

If anything, he’d earned some of your good spirited torment.

“Of course, someone has to teach them how to eat half a bore in one sitting” you laughed, recalling just how sick he’d made himself on that evening, doing so out of spite and gluttony alone.

Hvitserk couldn’t help but laugh as well, considering the point you made happily.

You had a point.

As far as teaching impressionable children about life skills and survival, neither of you would thrive.

However, that didn’t mean the male in front of you had any doubts about how good of parents you’d be, regardless.

Your heart was made of gold, a gift from the Gods to Kattegat, and there was no possible way you couldn’t pass that on to whatever offspring you may have.

“It is a gift” he chuckled, feigning humility, unable to avoid the obvious truth to your statement. You could both teach children quite a few things, even more if you were together than apart.

It wasn’t until he realized that that he had an idea.

“We could have some” Hvitserk hummed, his words coming out of nowhere, so impulsive and ridiculous that you weren't even sure you’d heard them in the first place.

Surely he didn’t mean that.

He couldn't have meant that.

“I’m sure there is a much more fitting bride in store for you, Hvitserk” you allowed, waving off his comment as an ill received joke. It wasn’t the first he’d told, and it surely wouldn't be the last either.

It was true.

You were sure of it.

There was a beautiful woman out there somewhere, waiting to marry the esteemed Son of Ragnar and bear him as many children as he’d like.

There was no reason for him to fret about it now.

You certainly couldn’t imagine this day to be his last, battle or not, and after this, he had more reason than ever to start the family he so desperately wanted.

“I’m serious. Why shouldn’t we have a few little babes of our own, you and me?” he continued, shocking you with his commitment to the subject.

Most of the time, Hvitserk would have chuckled a bit and moved on to something else entirely but not this time.

For some reason, in the time since you’d sat down, he’d gotten it in his head that the two of you could have children with one another.

Out of nowhere.

“Because Hvitserk, we aren’t married and even if we were, who would raise them? You and I hardly have the time now” you asked, gesturing around you.

A hundred feet to your left, there was a man getting his arm crudely removed with an ax, and to your right was a pit of bodies, scattered about.

It was hardly the place for a child.

Let alone ‘a few’ children.

“We could get married. My feelings for you have never been a secret, and we deserve a family just as much as anyone else, perhaps even more” he kept going, his determination filling you with a familiar pride.

He had always been so passionate about the things he cared about, and you loved that about him.

Above everything else, you had never questioned his heart and whether it was in the right place or not.

Hvitserk was a good person, and the Gods had given you a gift when they brought him into your life.

“You really want to do that? To marry me? To have children together?” you recounted, a small smile blooming on your face as you took your turn considering what it would be like.

As you thought about what kind of father Hvitserk would be, and how you could take a break from all the fighting to raise children of your very own, warriors like their parents.

It was a welcome sight, you had to admit that.

He was right, about all of it.

Hvitserk had always cared very deeply for you, and never tried to keep that a secret. This wasn’t even the first time he’d proposed to you in all the years that you’d known one another, but it was the most serious.

In fact, this was the most serious you’d ever seen him in his life.

The man in front of you took a moment to answer, looking between you and his clasped hands before letting out a sigh of decision.

Of course he wanted that. By this point, he was convinced it was the only thing he wanted, above everything else.

“More than anything”

Again, that finality found its way into his voice, bringing you a peace you never thought possible without even meaning too.

All your life, Hvitserk had been the last one to take himself too seriously, to act as the most mature, prepared between the two of you but now, it was he who was trying to get you to settle down.

It almost felt as if the Gods were teasing you.

Not that you minded.

If Loki himself thought this a proper jest, you would have to thank him every day of the rest of your life.

“Alright, Hvitserk, but you must promise me one thing” you began, setting your sword down completely on the grass, and offering a hand to him which he took without hesitation, bringing him that much closer to you.

Almost too naturally, the male found himself kneeling in front of your seated frame, his hands clasping your own, resting in your lap.

In this moment, you could have asked anything of him and he would have done it happily.

Though, that wasn’t all that different from every other moment you two had shared together. Hvitserk was almost always prepared to pluck the sun from the sky if you asked.

Where you were concerned, he’d always find a way, so whatever it was you wanted from him now, it was yours.

No matter what it was.

“Promise me you aren’t doing this because we may die tomorrow” you prompted, freeing one of your hands to gingerly brush your thumb mindlessly over the bone as you looked into his eyes.

You knew he must have been feeling the pressure this war had brought on, just as you were, but that didn’t mean you wanted to make empty promises to one another.

Love was the most powerful thing in the world but it was also the most dangerous if wrongly placed.

You didn’t want him to promise his heart to you again if he didn’t intend to give it to you fully.

“When have I ever made such rash decisions?” Hvitserk teased this time, finding the fact that you two were having this conversation at all too good to be true.

He never would have thought he’d be here, in the middle of a warzone with the woman of his dreams, discussing children and weddings on the night before he could meet his gruesome end.

Thankfully, if there was one thing Hvitserk was especially good at, it was dealing with things as they arose, rather than having a plan ahead of time.

It was one of the reasons you two worked out so well as a team.

“I’m serious, Hvitserk '' you tutted back, your gentle stroking of his jaw coming to an abrupt stop as you urged the man in front of you to be serious for once, like he’d been before this moment.

You needed to know this was really what he wanted, every day, not just on days when you may get yourselves killed.

“Alright, alright. I promise” he hummed, the biggest grin you’d ever seen evident on his face when he finally realized just what you two had agreed to.

He was getting married.

To you.

Finally.

#Hvitserk #vikings #hvitty #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x ps reader #hvitserk x plus size reader #hvitserk imagine #vikings x reader #vikings x ps reader #vikings x plus size reader #vikings imagine #hvitty x reader #hvitty x ps reader #hvitty x plus size reader #hvitty imagine #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #hvitserk ragnarsson x ps reader #hvitserk ragnarsson x plus size reader #hvitserk ragnarsson imagine

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Knew Him Well

Pairing: Hvitserk x Plus-size reader

Word Count: 2664

Warnings: Sexual themes

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

Thanks to @shannygoatgruff for beta reading. 

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

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

As always, I tagged those who might be interested.

...

You knew him well.

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

Hvitserk was a simple mortal. He loved apples.

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

You watched him often in his youth.

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

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

This time, no one was around to help.

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

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

You pitied him.

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

You smiled at his sudden squeals of delight.

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

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

A goddess.

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

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

...

You knew him well.

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

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

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

He craved women.

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

But it mattered to you. A goddess.

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

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

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

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

Still, you were not angry with him.

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

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

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

You continued to watch him.

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

It saddened you.

...

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

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

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

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

"Admire his weakness?" The Allfather questioned.

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

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

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

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

You remained silent, not knowing much else to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You went to him.

...

You had grown bold.

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

You pitied him.

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

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

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

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

He no longer believed.

And you pitied him once more.

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

His hands worshiped you.

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

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

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

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

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

It would have to be enough.

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

Dawn arrived faster than you had hoped.

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

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

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

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

…

The summer solstice began.

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

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

You smiled. He believed again.

…

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

You pitied them. Perhaps you pitied yourself, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gold ran down your cheeks in painted streaks.

You knew him well.

...

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

@doctorwhoandfairytaillover

#vikings fanfic #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x plus size reader #marco ilso #deans ch ch cherrypie #reader insert #vikings one shot

[crowwritesaway]

Ivar the Boneless Loyal Friend, Raven V

“What attack are you planning to do?” Ivar asked her, shaking his head.

“Hmm…I was thinking of many different ways I could sneak into this neighboring King. He’s been causing some tension between the border of my hometown and his.” She said, twirling a knife.

Ivar stared at her. “And what are those ways. Do you feel like it is going to fail?” His blue eyes shinning.

She licked her lip. She locked eyes with him. “No, but you can never be too careful. I may have plan A, B, C, D..but who am I to know whether one of my men will backstab me.”

He nodded, gritting his teeth. “Now, I do trust them. But, I’ve been hearing some things.” She trailed off, but stopped talking when she saw his eyes.

“Ivar…” She put the knife beside his bed. She sat at the edge of the bed. She grasped his face with her hand. Ivar leaned into her hand. “Are you in pain?”

Ivar sighed. “I know.” She comforted him. “Would you like me to get someone?” He shook his head. “Do you want me to bring the remedy from last time?” He nodded.

She hugged him. “I’m here. I’ll come back quick.” She got up and ran out his room. Ivar balled up his fist. Stupid legs. Stupid pain. Ugh. I can’t be this weak. Not in front of her.

She swung her door open. She picked up the remedy from her dresser and ran back out.

“I’m back.” She announced her presence. “Alright, let’s get you set up.” He grumbled. She crossed her arms. “Ivar, come on.” She insisted, walking over to his side.

He removed his braces. She set the remedy down. She had it freshly made every morning. It was a mixture of herbs that helped alleviate his pain. It was grounded into a paste that could be massage on his body.

“Take off your shirt.” Ivar tilted his head, grinning. “Wipe that grin off. I’m gonna massage you.” She said, smiling at him.

She uncovered the container and set the cover aside.

She scooped some of the paste and massage his shoulders. He looked at his lap. He held back groans. He closed his eyes and felt the tension on his shoulder fade away.

She moved her way down his chest. Ivar felt good. He felt safe with her. This is what made her his Raven. She knew what he needed. Meanwhile, Esperanza only enraged him and didn’t even bother with comforting him.

“Lay down.” She fixed his pillow. “Don’t I have to take my pants off first?” “Ivar!” She scolded him. He laughed.

“It’s okay. You must’ve forgotten. I wonder why.” Ivar teased her. She scoffed, turning around. “Whatever.” She blushed, annoyed for a moment. “So, do I undress or..” “Yes! Do it before I do it myself!” She snapped. She held back a smile.

He threw his head back and laughed. He took off his pants and covered himself. He put his arms behind his head. “I’m ready.”

She turned around. “Why thank you, my king.” He stayed quiet. King. That’s what I want to be in her eyes. Powerful. Unstoppable. Merciful at her but merciless at everyone else.

She scooped another handful of the remedy and applied it on his legs. She gently rubbed it on his skin.

He stared at her. Had it been anyone else, he wouldn’t through his hatchet at them. But his Raven, no. His Raven knew all sides of him. Just like he knew her. She’s not the rest. She doesn’t look disgusted. She sees me.

“Alright, I’m done.” She walked over to closed the container. Ivar’s eyes followed her. “Take a nap. When you wake up, you’ll be rested and be able to conquer whatever you want.” She told him, grinning. “What were you going to tell me earlier? What did you hear?” Ivar asked, sitting up. Raven rolled her eyes as she remembered what someone had told her last week. “Apparently, my fathers mistress plans to convince my father to let her son take my position.” She gritted her teeth. “There’s rumors going around that she has two men that report anything I do and say at my men.” She balled up her fists. Her nails marking her skin. “She better pray that I don’t find any of her followers because if I do, then she will watch as I take them apart.” Ivar clicked his tongue. “She wants what she can’t have. She’ll have to go through me and that son of hers won’t step a foot here unless he wants to lose it.” Ivar said, his eyes filled with anger. “I’ll deal with it when it happens. For now, rest. I can’t cause any trouble if I don’t have my shadow with me.” Ivar smiled. She waved bye and left. He sat up and crossed his arms. As much as I care for her, Esperanza…she needs to be dealt with. She had done something unforgivable. Could Raven know, maybe she could tell me?

Stay around for more of Ivar the Boneless Loyal Friend, Raven

#ivar the boneless x reader #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar fanfic #ivar x ofc #ivar x oc #ivar x plus size reader #vikings fanfic #vikings ivar the boneless #vikings fanfiction #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk x plus size reader #hvitserk #ivar the boneless fanfic #crowwritesaway

[artemiseamoon]

How long is too long?

Modern! Hvitserk x Plus Size F Reader

A special valentines drabble

Words: 1,133

Moodboard - mine | Crefit to gif maker

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

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

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

He thinks about Thora too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t wait up.”

Hvitserk makes a face and jabs Bjorn with his elbow.

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

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

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

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

When your eyes meet, he smiles at you.

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

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

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

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

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

“For you? I’m open, come in.”

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

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

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

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

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

“With Torvi.”

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

Hvitserk laughs and walks around the counter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m all in.”

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

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

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

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

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

#hvitserk #hvitty #hvitserk x plus size reader #hvitserk vikings #Hvitserk fluff #valentines drabble #vikings masterlist #modern hvitserk

[riverkloss]

☆MASTERLIST☆

Chat with me here or ao3 at HemlockGrover

Love at First Sight

Dark Hvits! Featuring Ivar! Plus-sized Reader

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

☆ Chapter ONE

☆ Chapter TWO

☆ Chapter THREE

Hero & Me

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

☆ HERO (Hvitserk and Oc)

Victor's & Vikings

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

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

☆ 1989. (Hvitserk Lothbrok and Oc)

☆Moodboards & Gifts☆

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

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

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

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

#moodboard #masterpost #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk x plus size reader #vikings #creative writing #hvitserk ragnarsson #Hvitserk #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #marco ilsø

[quantumlocked310]

In the Bed of Love - Chapter 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kid. You’ve got to go.”

“But Phil! You said I wasn’t ready.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#seriously look at that banner #I love it #hvitserk #hvitserk x plus size reader #hvitserk x reader #hercules!hvitserk #vikings #vikings au #gorgon!reader

[honestsycrets]

Say Your Piece II: Heart Breaker

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader, hvitserk x ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hvitserk?” 

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

“Hvitserk!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She ain’t like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just because she’s fat don’t--” 

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

“Erika--” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Ivar.” 

Or, maybe not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He bobbed his head.

“I think she already has.” 

A normal man would come to beg. 

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

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

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

“In-- in the park?” 

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

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

“Hvitserk!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna go eat?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did you say?” he asks. 

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

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

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

He wants that virginity. 

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

It was a slip-up. 

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

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

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

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

“You’re with her, aren’t you?” 

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

“Break it off.” 

“What?”

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

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

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

She laughs something from deep in her belly at him.

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

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

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

“If this shit is about yesterday--” 

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

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

“If that’s what I have to do.” 

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

“Fuckin’-- fuckin’ fine.” 

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

#Hvitserk x Reader #Hvitserk x OC #Hvitserk/Reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #it feels good to write my baby #Hvitty x Reader #hvitty/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #hvitserk x plus size reader #Vikings x Reader

[alicedopey]

The Wallflower

Gorgeous moodboard made by the talented @naaladareia Thanks babe !

Fandom: Vikings

Pairing: Hvitserk x Plus-size reader

Genre: Modern AU, Drama, Angst, Romance

Words: 1742

Warnings: Angst, some self-depreciation (barely)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, ladies!”

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

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

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

                                               ¤    ¤

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded. Hvitserk winked at you.

                                              ¤   ¤

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

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

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

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

“Pity?”

This made you look at him. “Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

“So…can I get a good night kiss?”

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

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

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

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

“Good night, Hvitserk.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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[littlemessyjessi]

Roommates: Vikings Headcanons: Hvitserk

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

Imagine being roommates with Hvitserk....

Weirdest hours on the fucking planet

might be home for 3 am to 7 am 

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

always pays his rent on time

appreciates your calendar to remind him

honestly- so messy

However most of it is contained in his room

Shit at housework

However, volunteered to hire a maid

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

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

Less of a big parties person but does love smaller gatherings

Always invites you

Stoked when you can be there

Bummed when you can’t

He hides it though and tries to play it off

Used to bring girls in all the time

Yes he was vying for attention

No it did not work

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

Human. garbage, disposal.

Will literally eat anything

No problem with leftovers or prefrozen meals 

Loves your cooking

Or just your taste in take out

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

Best. investment. ever. 

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

Less about you actually worrying for him

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

You know Hvitserk is MORE than capable of handling himself

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

You hit first, ask questions later.

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

He just sends a text now. 

Much easier 

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

One of the reasons he loves you so much

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

there’s usually one of them crashing on the couch

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

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

He knows your capable

You’re a strong, independent blah blah blah

He gets it

But he just would rather it be this way instead

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

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

HOWEVER

He always goes and buys a fuck ton of junk food

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

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

He’s a snuggler

especially during movies

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

Unless you don’t want it

Hvitz is a lover- not a creep

If someone tries to hurt you? 

Game. Over. 

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

Hvits fucking flipped. 

Total. Berserker. Mode. 

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

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

Loves the feeling of being needed

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

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

His family has a huge estate and he’s loaded

But that’s just Hvitz 

FYI- you’re not dating

But boy oh boy...

He wants to be

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

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

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Love, Kenny

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