#hvitserk's heathen feast | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nanahachikyuu · 2 years

Text

good morning // modern!hvitserk x reader

Summary: Hvitserk had a hell of a week, but unfortunately not in a good way. He just thanked the gods for gifting him with his own harbour of peace.

Pairing: hvitserk x reader

Type: drabble

Warnings: fluff, light description of smut, a little bit of angst if you squint

Word count: 1.150

Music insp.: Bom dia by Luiz Lins (you guessed it, another Brazilian artist)

A/N:

I should be studying, but I couldn’t get idea of comforting Hvitserk out of my head. It’s not easy to concentrate on criminal law with the image of a sleepy and needy Hvitserk glued to your braincells. Also, I’m obsessed with lazy morning fics. I just hope future me won’t regret this… It’s very short, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but it’s honest work.

I’m debating the idea of turning this AU, as well as the "van gogh’s sunflowers" one, into a series. Would anyone be interested in that?

Gentle reminder that English is not my first language, and this was not proofread.

you came and now I’m a boat heading back to the docks your love is sunlight filling my room with peace tell me what will be for our love we only have one life so why waste time with indecision? why not just live? tell me yes or no, I don't wanna hear maybe for our love good morning love good morning love (bom dia by luiz lins)

“Where you’re going?”, Hvitserk coos, the arm around her waist pulling the young woman closer to his chest.

“I have to clean myself up, baby”, she answers, still trying to disentangle herself from his strong hold.

It was early morning, the sun just barely peaking through the curtains of their shared room. Y/N had woken up in the early morning hours with Hvitserk’s breath on the back of her neck, spreading goose bumps on her whole body. His strong presence and lean body pressed up against Y/N’s made her feel like there was a current of electricity running through her entire body.

They hadn’t exchanged a single word, letting sighs and gasps, touches and grips, kisses and motions speak for themselves. Y/N could still feel his slow, but deep thrusts inside of her, both his arms surrounding her torso, one hand clutching a breast and the other between her thighs, circling her clit. And then, afterwards, they had stayed like that – hot, sweaty, and holding on to each other for what seemed like an eternity.

It was the perfect start to the day; one Y/N would brag about to her single friends as being one of the perks of being in a comitted relationship. The intimacy of making love to her husband on the first hours of the day, grasping to the thin line between unconsciousness and awareness, giving the moment the quality of a hazy dream. That morning, all her senses felt heightened, more sensitive. It had seemed like an eternity since she last had all her husband’s attention focused solely on her, even though it had only been a few days.

Y/N tries to free herself once more, her body still feeling heavy, struggling to dissipate the post-orgasmic fog her brain had lost itself into. Looking up, she notices the peaceful look on Hvitserk’s face. His eyebrows were not furrowed for what seemed the first time in days, cheeks slightly flushed, and his lips, puffed and red, curved into a small grin, one he was probably not aware of.

Giving up on her task for the moment, Y/N lays down again, head resting on his tattooed shoulder, one arm across his chest, so she could caress his blonde hair. Hvitserk doesn’t waste a second, his larger frame bending to embrace his wife’s body and keep her trapped in, fingers lightly running up and down her back. Y/N notices his breathing deepening and smiles softly to herself. After the week he had with his brothers at work, she was glad he was finally able to relax a little.

The Ragnarssons had been working on the fallouts of Ragnar’s sudden resignation from the family’s company, leaving them to deal with the mess he’d left behind, right in the eye of the hurricane. Hvitserk, along with his brothers, had spent the past days dealing with indignant investors and suppliers, running from one meeting to the next, unable to have a full night of sleep, or even have a complete meal, since his father broke the news during a family brunch, no less.

Y/N was glad she could offer him even a little bit of peace before he had to go out and face all those turbulences once again. That despite all the confusion, she was able present him with a place he could be at peace and forget all the current turmoil he was going through. A place where he was able to let his guard down and his mind rest. She was even more glad that all it took for him to achieve such state of mind was just by holding her close. The second he had gotten home the night before, for the first time in days, and finally held her body close to his, he could feel himself deflating, the voices shouting in his head silenced, and the need to reach for a bottle of strong whiskey gone, such was the power she held over him.

It was hard to say how long they stayed like that. The peace that overcame the room was almost palpable, like a glittery haze calmly spreading throughout the space. It was the sound of Hvitserk’s cellphone ringing that broke the spell they were under, startling them both into full consciousness. Loosening the hold he had on her, he reaches out to his bedside table, where his phone had been charging through the night. When he checks the caller ID and sees the face of his older brother staring back at him, Hvitserk knows his little moment of tranquility was over. It was time to go back to the hellhole their father had so selfishly dug out for them.

By his side, Y/N can’t hear what’s being said, but she can feel her husband tense with every second that goes by. In an attempt to soothe him, she reaches out for him, hand running up and down his naked chest, carefully tracing his tattoo, like she’s done so many times before. It was an action she was so used to repeating, she probably could do it with her eyes closed, relying only on her memory. When the call ends, he takes her hand in his, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles.

“That was Björn, I need to get back to the company”, he announces, frustrated. It was clear in his voice that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Yeah, I kind of figured that out” Y/N replies. She deeply wished he could stay, even if just for the day. It was possible to acknowledge the hardships he was going through in his demeanor, the peaceful look he had just moments before no longer visible. His shoulders were tense once again, brows furrowed, dark circles under his green eyes. It was like the reality of the outside world had crept into the bedroom the moment his cellphone had rang.

Letting out a sigh, she gets up. If it wasn’t possible to run away from their responsibilities, might as well get it over with soon and, knowing her husband like she did, he wouldn’t move a muscle out of their bed if she was still in it.

As Y/N bends down to pick up her pajama shorts Hvitserk had carelessly thrown on the floor, she feels a hard slap on her bottom, making her yelp in surprise.

“You can’t bend down like that in front of me and expect me to do nothing”, the man states simply, matter-of-factly.

Looking over her shoulder, she notices a devious smirk on his lips, a small one, but the first one in days, that made Y/N want to slap it away or kiss him into oblivion.

She chooses for the ladder, honestly happy that her goofy husband was still in there somewhere. He just needed sometime to sort out his family issues, and, when he was ready, she’d welcome him back with open arms.

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

#vikings imagines #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x you #hvitserk imagines #modern hvitserk x reader #modern hvitserk #hvitserk's heathen feast #vikings fanfiction #vikings history #vikings #hvitserk ragnarsson #nanahachikyuu

107 notes · View notes

ritual-unions · 1 year

Text

Archive of Our Own to see everything I’ve ever written for the Vikings fandom.

** = denotes explicit and/or implied sexual content, please use discretion

Ubbe / Original Character(s)

Sleepy Mornings **- multi chapter, complete, entire fic posted on Ao3. Winnifred lives the sheltered life of a Christian woman in King Alfred’s court. Not truly understanding the meaning of sexual pleasure her new husband, Ubbe Ragnarsson, is more than willing to show her the path.

Green Ivy **- one-shot, Ubbe has been married to Avaritia for many years but she still struggles with his heathenism and the way it creeps into her daily life and that of their children. A thunderstorm one night sends her running to Ubbe’s bed, the family bed he has been trying to convince her to sleep in. She finds not only Ubbe but their two children fast asleep. Ubbe in his tempestuous ways convinces Avaritia to find safety in his arms. (I may continue/add more fics with Avaritia at a later date)

A Feast for You **- one-shot, The Great Army finds themselves at the deserted villa of King Ecbert and Ubbe, feeling the full fervor of battle, takes his Sami consort, Verdandi, again and again, until she can no longer handle his advances. To distract him she tries to scrounge up enough food to hopefully satiate his beastly desires. (I may continue/add more fics with Verdandi at a later date)

Gatekeeper **- one-shot, Ubbe is forced to punish his Sami consort, Verdandi, after she mistakenly reveals the secret entrance into Kattegat to the enemy. Also known as sex-on-a-throne cause I can.

Northern Lights - one-shot, ficlet

Twice Now - multi chapter/complete, entire fic posted on Ao3. For years Ubbe has been promised to the same Saxon girl from his childhood, Avery. He is reluctantly waiting for the day when he will marry Avery, until then the gods will find their entertainment by placing the wilding Saxon, Kara, before him. She is unlike any he has met before, drawn to her though she does not want his help. She is determined to meet her lover, Ceol, on the coast of England before the year ends. Unwillingly she travels with Ubbe and his brother, Hvitserk, in a journey that may just leave them all a little mad.

Wolf Like Me - multi chapter/on going, Ylva Ragnardottir is used to getting what she wants. As the only daughter of the great Ragnar Lothbrok and the famous Princess Aslaug she wants to marry Haakon, the bastard son of King Harald Finehair but Ubbe, forced into a position that should be their missing father's, will not allow it.

Ylva isn't the only one whose hand is being forced, Eir, daughter of the King of Sweden finds herself betrothed to a man she wishes to never see again, Ubbe Ragnarsson.

+++

Hvitserk / Original Character(s)

Hours & Hours ** - one-shot, Hvitserk proposes “Naked Sushi Night” at The Valkyrie Gentlemen’s Club, the strip club owned by the Ragnarssons, just so he can see his favorite employee covered in food.

Touch Me ** - one-shot, Ubbe solicits Hvitserk into having sex with his girl, Dusty, so that he can watch, things don’t go as planned when Hvitserk’s new girlfriend, Honey, walks in on the three of them mid-coitous.

A part of my "Broken Clocks" series, in which the sons of Ragnar own a strip club, The Valkyrie Gentlemen's Club, located in England, much to the annoyance of the Christian council, Ecbert, and his son, Aethelwulf.

Misunderstandings ** - one-shot, Sigurd brings a new American friend to hang out with his brother. She speaks little-to-no Norwegian and Hvitserk takes advantage of her lack of mastery on the language in the form of a bet.

+++

Halfdan the Black / Original Character(s)

Marks ** - anon requested/drabble, Halfdan does not share and he is willing to let everyone know.

+++

2022 Ao3 End of the Year Review

Requests are open, see this post for more info. Also my inbox and dms are always open, I may not get to them right away but I’d love to talk to you about my fics & ocs and/or Vikings characters in general.

#vikings #vikings history #ubbe #hvitserk #ubbe ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #vikings fanfiction #ubbe fanfiction #Ubbe’s Wolfpack #Ubbe x ofc #Hvitserk x ofc #hvitserk fanfiction #halfdan vikings #halfdan the black #halfdan smut #hvitserk smut #ubbe smut

48 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 2 years

Text

The Predator (Ivar x Reader)

Summary: Ivar has always admired you from afar, a true shieldmaiden that would even make the Valkyries jealous of your skills. But when the chance comes for him to speak to you, to finally push past his fears and insecurities….death stalks in the shadows waiting for its moment to attack.

This is my contribution to the @vikingsbigbang2022!

The idea for this fic was actually from a request/conversation I had with @childishhoe eons ago. I hope you like it!

Also, I want to give a huge shout out to my collaborating artists: @quantumlocked310 & @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog y'all have been amazing in this process. Thank you!

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Playlist by @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog (added at the end)

Thud.

Releasing the tension from the drawstring of his bow, Ivar peered down the field towards the target at the end. The corners of his lips turned up in the faintest idea of a smile. The arrow had landed in the dead center of the clumsily drawn target. Just like the past nine other arrows, scattered amongst the various targets drawn on stumps or bales of hay.

"Have I mentioned yet how frightfully accurate you are?"

Ivar glanced at Ubbe, who stood next to him with a proud smile on his face. "You did yesterday."

"Hmmm….seems like you were blessed by the gods."

"I'd rather have my legs." Ivar mumbled, his good mood immediately soured.

Ubbe squeezed his shoulder but thankfully kept any words behind his teeth. Seeing that Ivar was out of arrows, the elder brother walked down to the end of the archery range to retrieve Ivar's arrows again.

The dark-haired Ragnarsson absent-mindedly watched Ubbe pluck the arrows from the targets, pleased that his brother knew to keep the pitying looks or comments to himself. Everyone had gotten better about hiding their pity but Ivar could still see it….could feel it taint the air….and it made his blood boil. It made him want to thrust his dagger into someone's chest and rip their still-beating heart out, to paint himself in the blood of those who dare pity him, to hear their petrified screams….to remind them all that he was more than his useless legs.

That someday the whole world would know the name of Ivar the Boneless….

….and they would fear him.

But for now, he temporarily suppressed his homicidal tendencies. His mother chastised him enough when he verbalized all the ways he would love to torture Sigurd. Not that it stopped him. He just hated seeing that disappointed look on her beautiful face. Or the swat to the back of his head from Floki. That did not mean he did not have plans though….for the future.

The sounds of others in the practice yard drifted around him like a chilling breeze. His jaw tightened fractionally. The two Ragnarssons were off at the furthest corner of the archery range, no one else around them. Several of those that stood around or practiced with axes and swords called out greetings to Ubbe when the two brothers passed. But no one came to join them, to practice archery or just talk….because of Ivar.

That easy comradery, that acceptance, that respect from his fellow Vikings, was something he never experienced. They thought him worthless, useless….just a cripple.

They kept their distance. Never were they outright rude to his face, because everyone knew Ivar's temper and violent tendencies would warrant him to inflict pain on them, but they never tried to join him or whichever brother was babysitting him for the day.

So he watched and observed. Only in the dead of night when he was alone, did his imagination create fantasies of being able to join the other warriors. To be recognized and wanted. To be respected. To be liked.

For now, he would accept their fear.

A cheer rang out through the practice yard. "Hvitserk! Hvitserk!" Several voices chanted his name like they were summoning him forth.

While sitting on his stump, Ivar turned to see his flaxen-haired brother stepping into the center of the sparring area, a sword in one hand and an axe in the other. His smug smile could be witnessed even from where Ivar sat, as those watching cheered him on with enthusiasm.

The youngest Ragnarsson wondered who was stupid enough to try and fight his brother. He begrudgingly admitted that all of his brothers were fierce warriors in their own right, a trait surely gifted through the blood of their father and being descendants of Odin the All-Father.

Yet neither the father that abandoned them nor the one-eyed god in Valhalla ever answered Ivar's whispered prayers and silent cries.

In the sparring area, a new cheer arose as Hvitserk's opponent stepped into the circle. Carrying a sword and shield, you rolled your shoulders, preparing for the spar. The chant of your name filled the air, like those around could not help but be in awe of you. For it was the air of confidence surrounding you that made people magnetized to you.

And Ivar was no exception.

Your name flowed from his lips in a reverent murmur as his vivid, blue eyes refused to look away. You were perfection in every way. Your movements were fluid like a dancer's and calculated like a strategist's. Every year that passed, you continuously grew in beauty, a kind that should not be known in the mortal realm. People flocked to you, both to win your affections and bask in your presence. Your skills with a blade were already legendary. Many claimed one day that you might surpass Lagertha herself with your sword skill. You were confident and strong, poised and regal. A valkyrie amongst mortals that were blessed just to be in your presence.

The sporadic times Ivar and you interacted in passing, usually around his brothers, you never ignored or awkwardly stared at him like other women. As if they were unsure what to do around him since he did not have working legs or they feared he would randomly stab them. But not you. Instead, your gorgeous eyes would meet his, a smile on your lips, as you greeted him like he was worth your time.

On occasion, you would ask him a superficial question and it was all Ivar could do to remember how to speak. Then to his further astonishment, you would actually listen and respond. The few conversations you bestowed upon him were typically short-lived, for his brothers were always around and would steal your attention away or you would have to leave to fulfill your duties.

Yet in those moments, Ivar swore his heart stopped and he could grow wings and fly.

His brothers teased him about his crush on you, how he would go starry-eyed and barely able to speak in your presence. In retaliation, he would just remind them that whenever they made advances towards you, you would quite clearly make your feelings known - usually with a dagger against their balls. Not that it stopped their flirting.

Ivar knew of a few bets going around, trying to see who would be the first brought to your bed here in Kattegat. Yet so far, no one had won.

The riotous cheering resumed in the sparring area as Hvitserk and you began circling one another. In a blink, Hvitserk advanced, swinging his sword and axe only for them to repeatedly bounce off your shield. The two of you sparred for several more minutes, taking turns in attempts to land a hit or make the other stumble. Finally both of you stepped away, chests heaving and grins on their faces. Hvitserk said something that had everyone nearby laughing as he winked at you.

Ivar's hand tightened on the bow in his lap.

You shook your head with a smirk. Then you glided forward with an effortless grace and initiated the sparring this time.

"I heard she trained under Lagertha for a few years before coming here." Ubbe stated, coming up to Ivar's side with the arrows in hand, even as he watched the fight. "That's why she's so good."

Ivar grunted. "I hope she makes Hvitty eat dirt."

"She probably will."

This time something in you had shifted. No longer were you fighting on equal terms with Hvitserk. Oh no….it became obvious you had been toying with him this whole time.

In frustrated retaliation, Hvitserk's hits began to get more wild, his blocks more sloppy. Yet you continued to dance around him, taking each hit and easily returning your own that he barely managed to escape. Once you managed to knock him onto his back, but with a quick roll, Hvitserk was up and charging at you again.

Finally, with a clearly well-practiced and almost unbelievable move, you slipped under his guard. Using his momentum against him, you feigned a spin and snuck a leg out to swipe at him, effectively tripping him. Before he could do more than raise his face from the dirt beneath him, you had one foot on his back and your sword tip at the nap of his neck.

Ivar sworn he had never seen a more beautiful and erotic sight in his entire life.

After a moment, you allowed Hvitserk up, clasping forearms after with smiles still on your faces as those around cheered or swapped coins based on their betting. Moving away, you settled back to lean against a railing, happily accepting the water from someone next to you. With your sleeve, you wiped the sweat from your brow before taking a sip. One of the shieldmaidens at your other side muttered something that made you laugh, shaking your head before you playfully shoved her.

A smile tugged on his lips in answer to your own laughter. But it died a swift death when he noticed the many other pairs of eyes watching you. Some of those looks were nothing short of hungry.

"You should say something to her."

Ivar shifted his icy glare to his elder brother. "What are you talking about?"

Ubbe shrugged. "It's obvious you like her….don't deny it. The death glares you give the others are enough to confirm it. So, you should tell her. Who knows? Maybe she feels the same."

Ivar scoffed, even as his heart pounded in his chest like a drum at the mere thought of you returning even a smidgen of his affection. "No. She's too nice to say it to my face. But she has no interest in any of you, why would she be interested in the cripple then?"

"Ivar, it's not…."

"Shut up. I'm done talking about this. Let's go find our idiot brothers. I'm tired of waiting around for them." Ivar slid down the trunk and began using his hands to crawl back towards the Great Hall. He could faintly hear Ubbe mutter something under his breath as he picked up Ivar's abandoned bow and arrows, used to have to carry things for the youngest Ragnarsson.

Before he got too far, Ivar could not help himself as he turned to look over his shoulder one last time at you. Leaning against the railing, you watched the next sparring match with a small smile on your face, looking beautiful and happy.

With that image in his mind, Ivar continued to crawl away, each drag of his lower body haunted by the eyes he knew would be following his movement like he was some rabid beast in need of being put down for the safety of all.

But the worst part was the knowledge that someone as perfect as you would never look twice at him in desire. He was a snake, meant to crawl on the ground, and you….you were a Valkyrie meant to rise above everyone and dwell with the gods.

*****

His vibrant eyes peered down over the edge of the short cliff, cloaked by the bushes he looked through. Lying here, with his belly on the ground, no one ever saw him. He knew from experience, enough times spent tracking various people to see what he could observe, or witnessing his brothers and their various paramours. He knew no one looked towards the ground for the eyes they could feel watching them. Never thinking about the danger that lurked at their feet.

This revelation was both the shadow of truth he veiled himself in and the chain that kept him prisoner.

Now though, he was thankful for a very different reason that he had honed his skills of stealthily tracking and following someone without their knowledge. Quiet and sly as a serpent in the underbrush, he carefully moved closer, crawling forward on his elbows.

It was the muffled crying from below that twisted the knife in his heart and kept him hostage on the precipice.

Amongst the raised roots of an ancient-looking tree, almost hidden by the natural alcove between the tree and the sharp slope of the short cliff, you leaned against the trunk of the tree. Your face was buried in your hands, weapons laying discarded just within reach. Your stifled cries mixed with the sound of the nearby gentle stream, creating a conflicting symphony of peace and heartbreak.

It was not pity that filled him as he gazed down at you. No, he knew pity and loathed it. He would never place such a revolting emotion onto you. What filled him instead was….sympathy. For he knew what it felt like to purposefully draw away from others, to hide oneself away from the world, and only then be able to shed the restricting mask and release the pent-up pain without fear of others' judgements.

Almost a fortnight had passed since he had begun following you, trailing behind as you left Kattegat and ventured into the surrounding forest and to your safe haven. At first, it had been curiosity that caused him to track your journey. Only to be shocked when he discovered you in the hidden dell, taking your clothes off and bathing in the shallow stream, softly singing to yourself the whole time. His mind shut down, unable to comprehend what his eyes bore witness to. You appeared as an apparition, something not meant for mortal eyes. A vision that the gods guarded jealously. The image of you was immediately seared into his brain, never to be forgotten for however long he lived. For gazing upon you, was the epitome of divine beauty, both inside and out. A goddess that was meant to be worshipped for all eternity.

After seeing you bathing for the first time, Ivar spent the rest of the day in a haze. Nothing could draw him out of his reverie. It was as if you had cursed him, only able to think about you, to remember you in all your glory.

The next time he saw you, he was sharpening an axe at the blacksmith's. You walked by, but not without greeting him first with a call of his name and a mesmerizing smile. He was lucky that you continued on your way because he barely caught himself from slicing his hand open in his gawking and encouraging his tongue back into his mouth after accidentally swallowing it. He was certain that if you had caught him spying, you would have confronted him about it. When you did not say anything, nor in the days after, all he could guess was you were unaware of his observation.

So whenever he saw you heading for the forest alone….he followed.

In his mind, he reassured himself it was for your own protection. Of course, he knew the skill you possessed to fight and defend yourself. It was a favorite pastime of his to watch you knock over-confident, cocky men flat on their asses. Especially the ones that hoped to gain certain favors from you.

Yet he noticed that when you were alone in the quiet, hidden dell, you let your guard down in more ways than one. You looked at peace with your eyes closed and face lifted towards the sun like an exotic flower. Your faithful weapons were set aside and seemingly forgotten about while you were here. It was in this place you sought solace from your companions and the tasks and responsibilities heaped upon your shoulders.

He vowed to stand guard so your face would never have to shed that look of serenity, causing you to appear ethereal.

Now though, he trailed behind you to provide comfort and companionship. Even if he was not right next to you physically. He silently hoped somehow you could feel his presence and know that you were not alone. That you did not have to grieve alone.

It had been four days since the news of your mother's tragic and unexpected death had reached Kattegat's shores. Every day you accepted the condolences with a genuine smile and continued to train and spend time with your companions like normal. It was when you ventured here, into your safe haven, that your pain finally spilled out onto the ground. Staining the earth around you with your grief and tears. Tainting the air with your heartbreak.

And Ivar kept to the shadows, watching, waiting, making sure no one disturbed you.

Today, your weeping was not all-consuming, but still enough for Ivar's hands to itch in some misguided attempt to comfort you. Once the outpouring of your grief ceased, you wiped the tear tracks from your cheeks with the sleeve of your tunic. Only the gurgling stream and the bird calls filled the air.

With a weary sigh, you stood up and stretched. Ivar could not help the way his gaze slid over your perfect body, touching as much of you with his eyes as he could. For never would you allow him to touch you with his dirty hands. You were too perfect and he was….he was beneath you in every way.

Ivar prepared to slither back and hide as you ascended up the slope of the cliff and make your way back to Kattegat. A dance the two of you had done for the fortnight now that Ivar had been watching over you. Even if you were unaware of the dance you participated in.

Just as you reached your hand out to grab your weapons, laying on a nearby stone, you froze.

Your head slowly, cautiously, hesitantly, turned to the right. Your body was still bent with your hand outstretched, as if the weapons lay forgotten in that moment. Your eyes were glued to the trees across the shallow stream. Tension sung a melody throughout your body as you carefully straightened from your crouch. The sword now gripped in your hand like a lifeline.

Fear and concern kept his fierce gaze locked on you and on the trees, wondering what you saw, desperate to know what had you so on edge.

Then Ivar saw it….

….and a shiver of terror trickled down his spine.

Moving silently and with an unnaturally, graceful prowl, the wolf stepped out from behind the trees across the small stream. Flaming red like the fires of Muspelheim colored its eyes. An inky, black coat covered its body, appearing to absorb the filtering sunlight like a black hole. Fangs emerged from its snout, as long as Ivar's dagger and twice as sharp. The wolf easily stood as tall as a horse, yet its presence conveyed more. As if it's massive body still struggled to contain all of it.

Ivar gaped. For he knew before him had to be a spawn of Fenrir, sent to Midgard for nothing less than to wallow in carnage, to drink the blood of all it devoured and to create chaos with each of its powerful footfalls.

And at the moment, it's destructive gaze was set on you.

It's lips curled back in a snarl. The growl that left it's throat could make mountains shake in terror. Nature itself silenced to give way to the creature that commanded attention and awe-inspiring horror. Then one massive paw lifted, proceeding another, bringing it a step closer in it's prowl. Those burning eyes never left you the whole time.

At its step closer, you swiftly shifted your stance, hands gripping your sword with a death-like grip. From where he hid, Ivar could see the tremors of trepidation careening through your body. Yet even in your terror, you refused to go down without a fight. Even in the face of what was certainly death itself, you stood your ground. Denying it from taking your soul easily.

In that moment, Ivar knew what he had to do. Never had he been so certain of his actions. It felt like Odin himself placed a hand on his shoulder in guidance and reassurance. Viciously, he shoved down the fear and dread clawing at his limbs. He refused to watch you fight alone. He refused to let you die. Not you, his Valkyrie, his goddess.

With a guttural warcry, he shoved himself forward. Half crawling, half falling down the cliff's slope, he finally touched the mossy ground and crawled his way over to where you stood, ready to defend yourself from the monstrous creature.

Your eyes met his for a fleeting moment, wide with determination and dread, but you made no further move.

Wordlessly, he passed you, crawling until he was between you and the stream. The wolf remained on the other side of the stream, watching with a malicious glint in it's gaze. Then it took another powerful step closer. The water from the stream caressing its front paws, only to retreat as if nature itself feared the creature.

From just behind him, you softly whispered his name but he did not turn his head, never removing his gaze from the wolf.

Piercing, blue eyes locked with burning, red eyes.

Ivar reached back and unsheathed the dagger he kept strapped to his thigh. A gift from Floki. With iron in hand, Ivar unleashed his own furious growl.

"Come on! Don't you know who I am?" He yelled at the creature, born of darkness and fire. He smacked his chest with the flat of his dagger. "I am Ivar the Boneless! You can't kill me! Now come on!"

The air crackled like lightning and thunder covered the sky, even though no clouds could be seen in the vast, blue sky. Time ceased, the Norns pausing their eternal spinning to bare witness. A life thread would be cut today. Ivar refused to let it be yours.

The spawn of Fenrir released a howl that seemed to shake the very ground they stood on. The trees quaked and trembled. The water swirled under the sheer force of it's howl.

A righteous fury arose like a storm within Ivar. Tremendous waves that would break ships crashed and roiled just under his skin.

"What are you waiting for? I laugh at death!" Ivar taunted. "Come on! I shall kill you today!"

Red eyes remained locked with blue eyes.

A terrifying snarl escaped past the confines of it's mouth. It lifted a paw, ready to place it in the water, ready to cross and bring forth the destruction it was bred for.

Then it stopped.

A sneer played on the face of the youngest Ragnarsson. He knew that even if the creature killed him, Odin would happily welcome him into Valhalla. For what greater honor would there be but to fight a monster the gods themselves feared and to win. Even if it ushered in his own death. What did he need to fear with the knowledge of Valhalla waiting for him.

He only hoped to spare you from the dangerous touch of death. It was not yet time for you to return to the gods.

Suddenly, the wolf dropped it's paw back to the mossy ground. Lowering it's head slightly, those furious eyes remained fixated on Ivar. Lips curled back in a silent snarl.

Then as if a spell had been broken, it took a step back in retreat.

And then another.

And another.

Slowly, it slicked back into the covering of the surrounding forest. Red eyes never leaving the blue eyes that gazed after it in confusion. It's black coat blended into the shadows of the forest. Just as silently as it arrived, destruction promised with each step, it disappeared.

Neither Ivar or you moved for several minutes. Tension and adrenaline hummed through your veins as you both waited for the monsterous wolf to return. In those minutes, time itself restarted once more. Nature reemerged from where it had hid. The singing of birds filled the air and the quiet gurgles of the stream coaxed a resemblance of peace again. Even the sunlight streamed down warmer and brighter than before.

"Ivar, are you alright?" You asked, once you must have deemed it safe to move. With your sword still in hand, you dropped onto your knees next to him.

Taking a deep breath like he had been underwater for too long, he shifted his body around to sit on his ass. In the movement, he accidently brought himself closer to you. His heart faltered when he realized the proximity he unintentionally created. Your breath fanned across his face as you stared wide-eyed at him. It took an embarrassingly long moment for his brain to remember your question and not get lost in your alluring eyes and intoxicating presence.

"Uh, I'm….I'm fine….and you?"

"I…." You shook your head then turned your face to look in the direction the wolf disappeared to. "What was that?"

"I don't know. Do you think it's gone?"

"I hope so."

He blinked as he stared at the expanse of trees across the stream. How could a creature like that just appear then disappear? What had drawn it forth? Would it come for Kattegat next? Should he tell his mother about this? Did they need to prepare Kattegat for a war with this enemy of the gods themselves?

Feeling eyes on him, he turned back, startled to find you staring at him. "What?"

"It….it was you….you scared it away."

"What?" He accidently barked in surprise.

You huffed, still kneeling next to him. "Ivar, think about it. Something like that. A creature like that!" You gestured in the direction the wolf had been. "The only reason it would back down would be if it met a bigger predator than itself."

His mind froze. Refusing to decipher your statement. Unable to believe the words coming from your mouth and their meaning. His insecurities battled with the unknown truth now spoken aloud.

A gentle hand cupped the side of his face, causing his heart to soar under your touch, forcing his eyes to meet yours. Something swirled and danced in your eyes, threatening to drag him under and drown him. As long as you continued to behold him like this, to touch him like this, he would readily drown in you.

Your thumb stroked his cheekbone as you whispered, something akin to admiration in your tone. "I think…. I think we have all underestimated you, Ivar the Boneless."

Words tangled up in knots on his tongue. An embarrassing warmth colored his cheeks as he flushed under your praise. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if he had somehow died and this was Valhalla.

"You are made to do great things. Even Fenrir cannot stop you from your destiny it would seem." You stared into his eyes, searching, seeking, finding, reevaluating. Then you ever so slowly drew closer. With the softest of caresses, you pressed your lips against his cheek for a moment before drawing back. "Thank you….for coming to my aid….for defending me. I won't ever forget it."

Air was no longer needed to breathe. Gravity no longer tethered him to the ground. For all Ivar knew, he could float amongst the clouds now.

A sweet giggle brought him out of his inner revelry, along with the feeling of your hand gently caressing his face on its way down to land back in your lap. He immediately missed the sensation of your touch and wished he had the words to ask you to return it.

Smiling, you smoothly glided to your feet. After one last look towards where death had stood not long ago, you glanced back down at your companion. "Come on, Prince Ivar. We should be getting back before the sun sets."

He nodded his agreement. Although, truthfully, he wished to linger in your presence, this intimate, comfortable moment that you found yourselves in. To maybe find the courage to ask you to allow him to touch you, to caress your face or hold your hand, even for just a brief second. Instead, he watched you wander over and grab your sword's sheath from the ground where it had previously laid. Skillfully, you slipped your sword into its sheath and then onto your hip. Lastly, you tucked a dagger back into your boot and one up your sleeve before turning around to face him.

"Besides, after this, I feel like you've earned the right to travel by my side instead of following me and then hiding in those bushes above. I can't imagine it's comfortable." You teased with a wink.

A blush returned to stain his cheeks at being caught. It did nothing to stop his heart from soaring at the notion that you would not reject his presence in the future. That maybe it would just be the two of you again in your safe haven. On second thought, he might suggest a new location for you to find solace after this….encounter.

He watched you scurry up the slope nimbly. Once at the top, you turned around to wait for him with a smile on your face. A beautiful, beaming smile….for him. His heart thudded in his chest as he gazed back at you.

Carefully, he slipped the dagger back into his sheath on his thigh and prepared the grueling climb up the side of the cliff. But knowing you waited at the top for him, it was worth it.

On instinct, Ivar turned to look towards the spot where the wolf had been. Nothing remained that showed of the creature that had stood there only minutes ago. Almost as it was a mirage instead of flesh and blood. A bloodthirsty grin spread over his lips as he thought about the words you said. How it was him that caused the wolf to back down. How it was him that the beast recognized as the greater predator.

With that in mind, he turned to follow you up the slope.

Even with his useless legs, even with his insecurities and faults, even with the doubt and pity spewed upon him daily that made his blood boil in rage….even with all of that, he was still the apex predator.

Maybe the blessing of Odin had not abandoned him after all.

Tag List: Vikings (all):

@youbloodymadgenius @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @quantumlocked310

Ivar:

@breezykpop

411 notes · View notes

lisinfleur · 3 years

Text

Foreign Treasure

The request:

Author’s Notes | I'm passing by some of my pieces, making them better or reposting them on Wattpad. And I thought this one could be rewritten into something better than before. I hope you guys like the final result!

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader

Info | Viking Age AU, Christian Nun! Reader, requested by multiple anons for 5CW5 | 2ed - rewritten for corrections. 1st ed here.

Words | 5569 (I think I got carried away? XD)

⁑ Warnings: NSFW. SMUT included. Explicit content. Dub!Con and mentions of religious conflict. Caution is recommended: The following content might be triggering!

You never wanted to be a nun. This fate just swallowed you whole when you were betrayed by the first man you ever loved. You gave yourself to him believing his promises of undying love; he took your chastity and left never to be seen again, abandoning you in regret.

You were left with your sin, your broken heart, and your family shamed by your blind decisions.

Your father wanted to leave you on your own, but your mother begged him to take you to the convent. And there you were forgotten by your family, left to serve and beg God's forgiveness until the end of your days.

You've never really felt called to serve God's will, but felt as if God - wherever he was (or IF he really was!) - was being merciful, giving you a life that wasn't that hard despite your sins.

But, somehow, you felt He was keeping you for something.

Some reason you couldn't find out until those barbarians reached your place of confinement.

First, news of York's downfall reached your ears. The Norse took over the city, and you thought of your kind. Members of your family that were said to live there. What would their fate have been?

But your mind wouldn't have to figure it out for itself: the Northmen came to you in a red carriage drawn by an imposing white horse. Many others behind the wooden wheels of that cart. But the two men upon it appeared to be the party leaders.

Your curiosity ended up being your doom. The other nuns were all terrified, but you approached the window, watching as the strong man dressed in black sat down on the carriage seat.

The other - honey hair and devilish expression - jumped off the chariot, coming near the doors.

Seeing you with greedy green eyes.

Something was shouted at the men behind him, and soon they began pounding on the gates until they were opened.

The place was invaded, and they swarmed into it like ants through the kitchen, but your heart sank in your chest: the honey-haired barbarian... He was looking right at you.

You knew he was coming after you. But he was a leader.

It could be a chance.

You walked to the door, but Mother Superior held your hand, trying to stop you from moving forward with your intention.

"Those are the demons from hell, my child!" she said, trying to keep you safe. "They'll tear you apart if you go there!"

You held her hand with gentleness in your eyes.

"My father once fought beside Ragnar Lothbrok and his men. I know how to speak their language. I can speak with them."

She tried to stop you from leaving, but you left her inside the room, locking the door and keeping the key with you, waiting for the Norsemen at the entrance to the church hall.

Since you were waiting, the honey-haired man came first.

The men behind him like a pack of thirsty wolves, picking out every golden thing their eyes could lay on.

He approached, towering upon you, taller than you could measure from the window. He was scarier than you thought, his eyes looked darker now that he was closer. If you could say that Mother Superior was right and those men really were the demons of Hell, then there was the sin of Greed itself before you.

But your heart didn't fail in its courage. You knew there was a reason for you to be there. And, maybe, this reason was that moment.

Those women were all virgins. Pure women dedicated to their God.

You weren't like them.

You were neither chaste nor pure. But you had the necessary to at least try to save them from those men.

When he approached, you bent over, muttering in his language.

"Mercy..." you said. "I beg you to listen to me first," you asked.

Surprised to see a Christian woman who could speak in a way he could understand, the man raised his hand, stopping the others behind him.

"Who are you? And how do you speak my language, woman?" he asked, with a stronger accent in his heavy voice.

“I’m Y/N, daughter of lord Y/F/N, who once fought beside King Ragnar Lothbrok and his men for the kingdom of Mercia,” you said, looking at him, “Under King Ecbert, in the name of late queen Kwenthrith.”

All those familiar names widened that man's eyes, taking him completely off his guard. His entire body language shifted from battle tone to serenity and surprise.

"I'm Hvitserk. Ragnar Lothbrok was my father," he said, sending shivers down your spine.

He was a prince. A Northman, but still a prince. You lowered your head a little more, submissive.

"I came to these lands to avenge my father's death. I intend to conquer the lands that King Ecbert promised him with broken words and unfulfilled promises!" he grunted angrily before looking around and then looking at you again. "What does a lord's daughter do in a place like this? What is this place anyway?"

His eyes were darting around. It was a Christian place, he was sure, but he wasn't so sure about its use.

"This place is a convent, my lord," you replied, keeping your voice low. "In this place, women are kept to serve our Lord and Sire, Jesus Christ. There isn't a single woman in this place who doesn't live to serve our God. That's why I implore you, Your Highness: take everything you want, it's all yours, but please spare these women."

You caught his eye but kept speaking on behalf of your sisters.

"We are few and harmless, my lord. I know your people keep us in thrall, but I beg you, in the name of all that is sacred to your heart, release these innocents from this burden. I beg your mercy, Prince Hvitserk."

Hvitserk twitched his lips and you knew he was dissatisfied.

He saw the women behind you at the window. He knew there were women under those strange dresses and he knew they were usually virgins when dressed that way.

You weren't asking him something small. But it wasn't that big either.

“How many of you are in this place?” he asked.

“We’re twenty at the moment, my lord. Seven of us, underage. Novices brought recently by their families,” you replied, keeping your head down. “Eight old women that served their entire life, and came to rest their last days in prayer. Five workers like me.”

Hvitserk's lips twitched further, showing clear annoyance.

"Don't lie to me, woman!" he growled, intimidating. "If what you say is true, then how do you keep this place functional with nothing but five women to care for all the chores?"

You lifted your head slightly to look into his eyes, showing that there was no lie in his words.

"The five best workers take care of the bigger tasks. The others will work in pairs. Always a newcomer and an elder, so the elders can teach and the newcomers can learn."

A perfectly possible scenario for him. Hvitserk sighed in frustration.

After all, you weren't lying. And just five women wouldn't be enough for his men. They would end up killing the elders and injuring underage slaves. It would not please the gods or them, for the women of those places had not enough experience to deal with so many thirsty men, and the slaughter of innocents was not a good thing in the eyes of their gods.

However, Hvitserk didn't come to leave with empty hands. Those places were full of gold and it would be enough for the men. But he was hungry for more...

The last days in that church with Ivar leading the way weren't his best. He was tired, irritated, annoyed, and bored. A new bed slave would come in handy. One that could speak his language would surely last for some good and interesting days of entertainment.

"We'll set camp here for the night and leave in the morning. You tell the women not to leave their room, and they won’t be touched."

A good statement. You felt your heart filled with relief. But before you could thank God for His mercy, the price came, high as the pacts your sisters feared so much.

"You come with us. You know my language, and your appearance please my eyes. You come. The others will be left alone."

There it was. The reason why you felt you were in that place for so long.

It would be your life, for theirs.

Their God had saved them...

You looked at him, meekly accepting your fate.

"I accept your terms, Prince Hvitserk. I have a key to their room. Please let me talk to them and bring them some water and food for the night. Tomorrow morning, allow me to leave the key so they can leave the room after our departure. I'll go with you without resistance."

"Fine," he agreed, dismissing the men so they could scatter and search for more gold.

Still, he followed you down the hall, waiting beside you while you unlocked the door to talk to the women inside. His curious eyes peered inside the door as it opened, seeking proof of your words, finding nothing but the truth: The elders were huddled in the corner of the room, hugging some crying little girls.

With them, four women of your age were trying to help the children stop crying, dividing a single amphora of water between them all.

One of the old ladies approached, dressed in a different cloak, a darker one, with one of those funny hats on her head.

Her eyes were wide on him like he was a ghost or something, and her trembling hands tried to reach for yours.

"My child," the old woman mumbled.

And you smiled lightly at her, holding both of her hands.

"I made a deal," you quickly explained, avoiding irritating Hvitserk. “They will not touch the women of this place. Their leader is the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and he intends to honor his father's name. His men will spend the night here. I will feed them and supply them with wine and water. When the morning comes, they will leave, and I will bring the key to free you from this room. Keep the others calm, and please don't try to leave. Pray tonight, mother. Thank God for our lives, for His mercy found a place even in the hearts of the heathen."

“Oh, blessed be your words, my child. But what about you? Will you be safe?" she asked, and you smiled softly.

"I'm not important, Mother," you said, tenderly stroking her hand.

Seeing in her teary eyes, she understood your sacrifice.

"You know I'm not one of you. I was never one of you. I'm touched by sin, and our Lord allowed me to serve him by protecting his sheep. Don't worry about me: I speak their language, and my father fought alongside his father,” you looked to Hvitserk as a way of indicating him. "I won't be mistreated. I'll cook for them and bring you some of the food tonight. Be calm and safe, Mother."

She nodded her shaking head. A placid tone of resignation in her voice.

"I will pray for your soul, my child," she said, looking at Hvitserk. "And for yours too, boy," she completed, stepping in before you could lock the door, keeping the key safe in your necklace.

"What did she say to me? She was talking to me. What did she say?" Hvitserk asked, afraid the Christian woman might have hurled at him any kind of curse of her god or some shit like that.

But you smiled.

"She said she will pray for you. For us," you said calmly.

Your tone was calming him down. Your smile was a signal to him that nothing was wrong.

"I will show you the treasures of this place and prepare food for your men. I only beg you to leave enough supplies so that the sisters do not die in the winter. There are enough blankets for your men and for the women. Please, I implore you to avoid being greedy. Their lives depend on your benevolence, my lord."

You were sweet and kind and not afraid of him. Hvitserk wasn't used to kindness coming from women like you. In fact, none of them ever stopped screaming in his presence but you were calm, even though your hands shook as you showed him the places where your people kept the golden treasures offered to your God.

You knew God wouldn't be angry with you for giving His wine, food, gold, and silver to those men. You saved those women's souls from sin and their lives from the blades of the Northmen. These were much more valuable things, and you knew it.

Hvitserk watched as you moved, preparing everything to feed his brother and the entire army they brought. Your words about that place becoming more trustworthy as he observed that you were actually able to quickly prepare a large meal.

It was amazing to him to see as you kept more than one pan on the fire, cooking the broth, treating the meat, making bread, all at the same time. To him, you were dancing around the kitchen in your weird gray dress.

Hvitserk found himself thinking... A colorful dress and you would look beautiful walking around moving colors with you.

Within hours, there was plenty of fresh, fragrant food.

Hvitserk accompanied you as you took a small cart for the nuns with portions of food and water. Just enough for them, he noted. You weren't trying to save anything more than what they needed, and it made him think maybe he should leave them with more to reward your humble ways.

You then served his table with a larger portion of the food and some fresh, undivided loaves for him and his brother. And he watched from his chair as you served his men alone, using the ceramic bowls the nuns used to serve the homeless and the poor around Christmas Eve.

One by one, Hvitserk watched you serve his men with a thick broth, a piece of bread, and a good chunk of meat. Strong meals, he thought. You weren't denying them your best hospitality, even though they were squatters in your home.

"Will you take her?" you could hear his brother asking. "You keep looking at her, Hvitserk."

"Yes, I will, Ivar. Is there a problem with my desire to take a personal slave?"

Hvitserk's tone was harsh, heightened by the natural heavy tone of his language. Something seemed to be wrong between the brothers, but you kept your silence. The one he called Ivar chuckled, raising his hand in a careless gesture.

"There's nothing wrong, brother. Keep her. She's just a slave anyway. If she can get that elephant trunk off your face, I'll be satisfied."

Hvitserk rolled his eyes, annoyed, focusing his attention on the flavors of your food. It was well seasoned, strong as he thought it would be. Good food, a beautiful, skillful slave. He was sure the gods had kept her treasured for him after all.

At the end of meals, Hvitserk watched as you carried all the dirty bowls and spoons to the cart, taking them to the kitchen. Alone, you started filling some buckets with water, using it to clean the pots.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm cleaning up and organizing everything so I can serve your breakfast tomorrow," you said.

His brows furrowed as he watched your hands cleaning each bowl, drying each spoon until everything around was untouched again.

There was no longer any doubt in his eyes: it was perfectly possible to see that the whole place was working with such a small number of janitors. If they were all as useful as you, then pity him for turning away so many good slaves.

But he was a man of his word. And he would honor the agreement as you were honoring your part in it, spreading warm blankets among his men, ensuring they would have a comfortable night in the church's biggest hall.

Small but comfortable accommodations, which would be used only when the convent had guests from the upper classes of the Church or when some royal woman was there for a period of education.

Although Ivar retired to sleep, Hvitserk continued to follow you, curious that you had accommodated his brother and prepared his room for him, but gave no sign that you were going to sleep either.

Instead, you went back to the kitchen, stirring the flour, making butter, seasoning, and making bread covered in slightly damp clothes. You left several amphorae full of water and boiled the milk. Then, you fractionated cheese and ground some grains he recognized as oatmeal, certainly for a porridge you intended to serve the next morning.

In fact, you were skilled. And he was already fascinated.

"Do you do this all the time? Are you the cook here?" he asked.

"Not exactly," you replied, wiping your hands after preparing everything. "I cook and sew, or clean, or take care of the land. Sometimes I carve or paint. I do whatever is necessary around the convent to keep it going, my prince,"you said, putting the cloth to dry.

And once again, he noticed that the kitchen looked untouched once more. You were good. Definitely.

"Do you know how to braid your hair?" he asked when you approached.

"Yes, my prince," you replied.

You had the skills of your time among your sisters.

"Then come with me. This place feels warm and cozy. I've been feeling dirty for a while. I'm going to shower, and you're going to help me. Then you can redo my braids after I wash my hair."

You shuddered at the thought of seeing a man's nudity one more time. Still, you obeyed.

"Yes, my prince."

You took two large buckets with water and carried them, guiding Hvitserk to the bathing room. You filled the cauldron over the fire with the buckets and started filling the basin, preparing it to receive the hot water. You poured the boiling inside of it carefully, checking the temperature with your hand to ensure he wouldn't burn himself.

When you turned to tell him the bath was ready, your eyes widened. The bowl you prepared for his bath fell from your hands, crashing to the floor as your eyes took in his total nudity.

"What happened, woman?" he asked, startled by the sound of broken pottery, nearly waking you out of the trance to lower yourself to the ground, trying to concentrate on picking up the shards. "What the heck was that?"

"I'm sorry, Prince Hvitserk, I'll clean this up in a sec!" you apologized.

But instead of going mad, Hvitserk laughed.

"You Christian women are all the same. Looks like you've never seen a dick before," he joked, stepping into the tub as you finished picking up the pieces of the bowl.

"None this size," her mouth spoke before her mind.

Were you nervous...

Vocalization was always a problem when you were feeling like that. It only made you more embarrassed.

Hvitserk's expression was surprised - a nun who had ever seen a cock? This was something new for him.

"Bigger or smaller?" he asked casually.

His body slowly dipped into the hot water as he sighed in pleasure at the perfect temperature. It had been a long time since his last moment of peace. The bath you prepared was almost a balm for his tired muscles.

"I…" you choked on your words, trying to avoid his eyes so fixed on you. "I'll replace the bowl... And get some clean clothes for your bath," you tried.

Miserable failure.

“I asked you a question. Answer me,” he demanded.

You lowered your head, losing any hope of escaping that conversation.

"Smaller. And thinner. We were a young couple, and he wasn't that much older than me. Can I go now?" you said.

His eyes were on the ground, ashamed to speak so openly about his sin.

Hvitserk was now curious. So not all those nuns were inexperienced virgins after all?

He sat in the tub, not looking the least bit interested in letting you go.

“So, have you ever had a man? I thought the nuns were all virgins,” he asked, curious.

"They are. I'm an exception. Please can I go? The water will run cold…".

You were right.

He sensed your embarrassment, and that bath was too perfect to miss the pleasure of that temperature for your answers right now. He allowed you to leave, but as soon as you returned with the cloths you promised to bring, the first problem appeared.

"You can start behind my back," he said.

Not even making a move to remove the cloth from your hand.

YOU would wash him, of course. After all, you were the slave, weren't you?

Your face turned red as he sat closer to the center of the tub, leaving his bare tattooed back exposed for you to rub. Even so, you tried to control your shyness while dipping the cloth in a bucket of warm, herbal water you brought, starting to clean his back of the mud and blood that was all over his skin.

Unashamedly, Hvitserk kept the conversation going as if you weren't burning red behind him.

“So, you've had a man before. Did he die or something?"

You sighed. It would definitely not be possible to get rid of his curiosity for this part of your life.

"He had what he wanted and left. My family left me here to serve God and ask forgiveness for my sins." You kept rubbing his skin, trying to give him as short answers as you could.

But they weren't enough to satiate his curiosity.

"It still doesn't make sense to me. You had sex, the idiot is gone. What the hell is wrong with that, except for his idiocy?" he asked.

"What I've done is sin. It's against our Lord's rules," you explained, trying to be patient.

But Hvitserk laughed, looking at you over his shoulder.

"Your God is complicated. It seems like everything that gives pleasure is a sin to him. I don't like your God. His rules are boring. Now stop trying to stretch yourself, woman... Get in the bathtub! It'll be easier if you're closer."

Your face burst red once more, but that didn't seem to bother the prince.

“You look beautiful when you turn red like that. Don't worry, you'll get used to these sins very quickly by my side. Now come in.”

There was no choice, but you felt you could at least avoid getting naked in front of him. So you knotted your skirt as high as you could before trying to get into the tub without touching Hvitserk's body.

However, instead of being quiet, he moved his legs, causing you to fall into the water, and held your waist, guiding you to his lap.

"Oh, dear Lord!" you yelled.

Your habit was now completely wet, and you were almost straddling his lap. How many were your chances of getting out of hell after sitting on the lap of a Norseman still wearing the nun habit?

Probably none! But Hvitserk wasn't really worried about it, chuckling at your flaming red cheeks.

"See? Nobody died. Now take off these clothes. You're not a nun anymore. You're my slave, and if I like you, then you can become something more. Just take this gray thing off and come wash me properly, woman!” he nudged.

Hvitserk was quite different from the last man you met. He wasn't even trying to disguise his intentions, but he wasn't making false promises either. It was a good thing, right?

You went to the side of the bathtub, taking off your hat and veil, sighing at the thought of exposing yourself once more.

"Take it off..." Hvitserk demanded. "You're too beautiful for this lack of color," he complained.

If only he'd seen you in one of your dresses from your previous life as a lady in your father's house... Your mind has tricked you with the memories of the life you long ago abandoned. What would your mother think if she knew you ended up like this?

Your father would surely bark that your sins were not forgiven. Nonsense!

You served well. But a servant cannot serve two masters, and now...

Now you had a new master.

Taking off the habit brought back memories of that night. Memories of the fabric of your dress slipping off your shoulders and your ex-lover's voice in the same words that came out of Hvitserk's mouth when you finished undressing in front of him.

"You are so pretty..."

"Please, don't say that," you begged, hugging yourself.

"I'm just telling the truth," Hvitserk replied, but you lowered your head, anguished.

Your hands covering your shame as much as you could.

"He told me the same. And he used me for his pleasure. I should be married, I should have my own children by now, but he'd ruined me. And you're about to do the same," you muttered, feeling the tears form in your eyes.

Hvitserk pulled you closer, and you knelt beside his legs, head down.

"I won't ruin anything," he said, lifting your face with his fingers, almost gently. "There's no such thing where I come from. You said you'd come with me. So forget everything you've learned from your world or your God. I'll show you all over again. And you'll see, sweet one, why pleasure just can't be wrong."

The prince tilted his face forward, capturing your lips in a slow kiss. Gently, he explored your mouth, lowering your defenses, sending shivers down your spine.

Your last mate didn't kiss you like that. He barely touched your lips. Hvitserk was exploring your entire mouth, his tongue dancing with yours, taking your breath away.

Arousing your body even when you couldn't remember ever feeling that way.

Slowly, his hands guided you to straddle his lap properly.

"Hvitserk", you tried to get his attention.

You knew what he was about to do. But he didn't stop.

His voice sounded in low vibrations against your lips as his hands held you closer and closer.

"Relax. You're mine... My rules, darling. You're not doing anything wrong. Just feel it."

You closed your eyes. A part of you didn't want to see what was coming. The last time you felt this, it was painful. It wasn't worth the price.

But this time, the surprise made your eyes widen as a wave of pleasure you've never felt before invaded your body from its folds. You looked down to see Hvitserk's thick fingers between your legs, rubbing, gliding in a way no one had ever touched you, forcing you to bite your lip to avoid asking for God's mercy at such a sinful moment.

But your voice still dragged out of your throat in a muffled moan that made a smile on Hvitserk's lips.

"Like this, love... Just relax. I'll show you more..."

His lips touched the skin of your neck in open-mouthed kisses, sending shivers through your body, creating an unknown pressure in your lower belly. It grew as he continued until it exploded, traveling through your entire body like a wave that engulfed you completely.

You squeaked, trying to swallow your voice, to keep those heretical moans from coming out of your mouth, filling the room, spreading through the corridors of that hallowed place. But it was so hard with Hvitserk's lips latched on your nipples, sucking such sensitive parts of your body, hardened by arousal as you've never felt before!

Your mind was overwhelmed by his caresses. But Hvitserk's devilish lips didn't stop, sucking and kissing every part of your body they could reach, distracting your senses as his hands guided your hips to your doom.

When you least expected it, Hvitserk's cock made itself present in your walls, stretching you around him, filling you completely.

You squeaked again, but this time, Hvitserk just held your waist, pulling you down onto his cock until your entire channel was full of his length. Hissing against your lips, he kissed you gently between the words that came after the thin pain his movements had caused between your legs.

"Shh..." he muttered. “The pain will pass soon, dove. You're so tight! I can feel you haven't had a man in a while - if you've really had one. I'll be patient, sweet Y/N. I want your moans for me tonight."

Hvitserk kept his thumb rubbing your clit while his other hand pressed your waist for support. His mouth kissing yours, sometimes gently biting your lower lip.

Your mind was flooded and disorganized. A part of you thinking how wrong it was to have sex in a bathtub in the middle of a convent with a Norwegian you had just met. Another was wondering how this could be wrong when he seemed made to fit you like that.

At some point, Hvitserk began to move his hips. Again, your mind went blank as the pleasure invaded your body in waves timed by his movements.

Hvitserk growled when he came out of your tight channel, spreading more waves of heat through your disoriented senses whenever he entered again, bumping his hips against yours with wet noises you could barely hear.

"Shit, so good," he cursed. "Gods, I was missing a tight girl like you around me. Move your sweet hips for me, love," he asked.

His hands guided your hips, moving them against him so that your body danced to the rhythm his body was proposing.

It was so much pleasure numbing your mind! You didn't notice when you lost control and your body started blindly following his commands, moving by itself on top of him, seeking more. Your hips rocked against his, rubbing against his skin.

You tried to catch your breath. You wanted to tell him it wasn't right. You wanted to say he should stop. But releasing your lower lip from your bite only served to moan his name, revealing how overpowered you were at that moment.

"Like this, kitten," he muttered, heretic. "Such a good girl..."

A few more moves and Hvitserk pushed in deeper, allowing you to feel his body thicker in you, throbbing against your walls.

"What is happening?" you asked, surprised by the unfamiliar feeling. "You're throbbing..."

"You're going to make me come," he panted, moving hard against your body."You're so good! I can't hold back. I'm going to seed you here, then I'm going to take you to my bed. I want you moaning under my body all night like this. Shit! I can't take it anymore, love... I'm gonna cum!"

Hvitserk's curses were so natural. In his mouth, he was fucking you, seeding your pussy when you were supposed to stay clean, pure. The proof that you didn't belong there was your moans, as natural as his words, coming out of your mouth when the feel of his hot seed coating your insides was enough to make you come once more.

It was like you were meant to warm him up like that...

“I'm dirty…I've sinned again,” you mourned, lost in your vague and confused thoughts.

But Hvitserk lifted your chin, kissing your lips, sucking on your bottom lip in that way with which he could literally numb your mind completely.

“You did. And you will do it again. You will sin with me, love. Again, and again, and again. Until my scent spreads all over your skin, and my seed is dripping from your beautiful pussy. Then, it won't be a sin anymore because everything about this God of yours will be gone. I'm going to fuck your brains out tonight, love. And when dawn comes, you won't remember anything except the fact that you're mine."

Once again, Hvitserk moved in your wet walls. Even surrounded by water, your body burned with desire. You were doomed! You could already feel the heat of the flames of hell claiming your body on Hvitserk's fingertips, on his lips, on his cock.

He literally fucked you into oblivion that night. And you moaned disconnected things until his name was all you could whisper in his ears.

When dawn came, he braided your hair in his own way and had your habit torn off, disfigured in a gray dress that he covered with his own cloak, almost marking you as his woman.

After serving their breakfast, you slipped the key under the bedroom door for the women to pick up when they were awake.

With the first rays of the sun, the Norse left the convent as promised. Leaving the women you saved behind - untouched.

You went out with them, true to your word. Astride Hvitserk's horse, with his body behind yours and his hands guiding the way, you have not looked back.

You fulfilled God's plans for you and somehow got the feeling that your mission in that place was complete.

The nuns were safe. The Northmen were leaving.

The price of innocent souls has been paid, and now it was time for you to know what plans the Norse gods had for your fate...

Tagged ones:

|| @bluearchersstuff || @ivarswickedqueen || @akamaiden || @bang-kim-bap || @cris101071 || @elysias-temple || @alicedopey || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla || @lol-haha-joke || @readsalot73 || @rekdreams247 || @naaladareia || @laketaj24 || @therealcalicali || @grungyblonde || @arses21434 || @honestsycrets || @2thequietone4 || @blackspiritshake || @vikingsbifrost || @x-valhalla || @cyarikashakira || @chinduda || @isthat-tyra98 || @xinyourdreamsx || @thiahilmarsdottir || @queenbeeta || @winchesterwife27 || @gold-dragon-slayer || @mzliterarydreamer || @marvelouuse || @lif3snotouttogetyou || @lordsexmachine || @deathbyarabbit || @ietss || @tgrrose || @alexisshoto || @letsloveimagines || @thorins-queen-of-erebor || @astrape-the-weatherwitch || @destynelseclipsa || @charming-merlin || @violetidk || @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie || @ghvsts || @littlemoonchildbear ||

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

#imagine vikings #vikings history #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk whiteshirt #hvitserk's heathen feast #sister wives #shot

293 notes · View notes

writingfromasgard · 2 years

Text

A Professional Donation [Ch6]

[Ch1] || [Ch2] || [Ch3] || || [Ch4] || [Ch5] || [ML] || [AO3]

[taglist] - this is a new taglist for 2022.

Cora groaned as she opened her eyes. Her body felt sore from the awkward way she had slept on her couch. Her first alarm was blaring her to wake. She tried several times to twist her body off the sofa, her muscles straining in protest until she was able to get to her feet.

It had been several days since her last conversation with her two remaining clients. Yevette had cleared her to receive the total amount Laila owed her, finding that Laila violated Cora's and house rules. She would need to pay a hefty fine to Yevette, part of which would go to Cora.

She sought out the newer shake flavor she'd bought: Pineapple madness. It boasted a rich flavor that should hide the disgusting protein after-taste. She couldn't say she was surprised when it fell short. Her eyes trailed to the calendar she had pinned on the fridge. Today was the first public outing with Ivar: A dinner

The nerves hadn't been as bad as she expected. Ivar had delivered the clothing he wished her to wear for the night via Tom. She had tried it on the same day it arrived, sending a picture to Ivar for his approval. The one sleeve dress was a steel gray color with the slit starting high on her thigh. A matching pair of shoes had accompanied it. She was embarrassed to admit that she spent a good ten minutes moving her arm, entranced by the movement of the extra material on the sleeve. He replied with a quick ‘Perfect’ in reply. She had noticed he kept most of his texts short and to the point.

She finished off the shake, tossing the empty bottle into the trash. Mentally, she went down the sequence of events for tonight. Tom would drive her to Freyja's Hotel to meet Ivar; said hotel had many foreign celebrities, diplomats, and royalty visit. Even local political figures had hosted a plethora of events.

Time felt achingly slow. Her favorite shows were no match for the anticipation of dinner. The first time interacting with any donor after they’d reached an agreement always left her with this feeling. A mix of anxiety and happiness that reached its peak right before she stepped out of Tom’s car to the meeting.

Cora reached for neutral colors for her makeup with the dress's color in mind. A shimmering beige for her eyelids with striking Arabic eyeliner for accent. She left her lips one shade lighter than her natural lip color. She inspected herself for mistakes and found the look completed with curled hair she put in a bun. She painstakingly pulled out a few strains, brushing them to turn the curls into waves that framed her face.

In what seemed a matter of minutes, Tom had pulled open her door to let her out at Freyja's. Her eyes scanned the crowd of people exiting cars until she spotted him -- Ivar stood, leaning against the building with a cigarette in his mouth. Another man -- though he looked far younger than Ivar -- stood beside him, speaking to him.

She swallowed when Ivar's eyes connected to hers then smiled brightly when his mouth fell open. He put the cigarette out in the butts bin and grabbed hold of black crutches. She met him halfway, keeping her smile on her lips. The way his eyes scanned over every inch of her, assessing her, made heat fill her cheeks.

"Cora." He purred, settling one crutch under his armpit and holding his hand out to her.

She took it, surprised by his strength to pull her to him. "Ivar." She greeted him, sounding more like a whisper.

"You look beautiful." He cupped her chin, leaning in for a chaste kiss on the lips. Her eyes fluttered closed when their lips met, the softness giving her another surprise. "How am I going to keep my hands to myself if you look like this?"

More heat rushed to her cheeks at his compliment. "Thank you. You chose the dress well." She murmured. He stole another kiss then turned to the man who had joined them.

"It is not necessary for you to follow me around, Hvitserk. Go find Camilia." His tone had changed from moments ago, no longer soft with an underlying tone of seduction. It gave her time to let her own eyes wander down his form.

Unlike her dress, the steel gray color came from one article of clothing -- his double-breasted vest. His undershirt was a plain white with the overcoat being solid black. His hand dropped to her lower back, pulling her against him softly. She tore her eyes away from him when

grabbed her hand to shake it.

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't introduce myself first? I'm Hvitserk." He had joy written all over his face while Ivar’s held irritation at the intrusion.

"Pleasure to meet you, Hvitserk. I'm Cora." She released his hand, turning her attention back to Ivar. Out of habit, she reached up and straightened his tie before smoothing down his vest. It was rare for the men in her life to be this well dressed and she could appreciate the effort he went through to match her dress.

"See something you like?" Ivar teased, moving to escort her into the building.

"Several things." She pressed her lips together, keeping her features coy.

"Cammy's here!" Hvitserk's voice rang out. He was gone within seconds.

Two doormen opened the door for them. Cora stuffed down her urge to ogle the surroundings. She had to act as if she belonged here with Ivar. She could explore to her heart's content at a later point – if they ever returned.

He guided her to a dining room stuffed with several people she swore she had seen in photographs before. One large table held a 'Reserved for Lothbrok' sign with Ivar leading her to the side that kept their backs to the entrance.

"This.. is beautiful." She let slip, eyeing the centerpieces. She had no clue what flower they were, but the stems were silvery with a blue tint and deep blue buds. Clearly, the silver/gray color was the theme for the night or at least for Ivar's table. Others had buds or flowers with magenta, deep purple, and even orange.

He pulled out her chair, pushing it in for her. If he had any trouble balancing on the crutches while doing so, she couldn't tell. He took the seat to her left, folding up his crutches and placing them underneath her chair.

"Angrboda, Floki's daughter, did these arrangements." He reached for her hand, kissing the back of it.

"Where did they find flowers like these?" She covered her mouth, ashamed that her wonderment slipped out before she could stop it. Her attention went back to his eyes, intense and watching everything.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Floki's wife, Helga. He built her a large greenhouse when he found out she was pregnant. All of these flowers are from that greenhouse." His hand motioned to the smaller accent flowers. “They have an exclusive deal with the hotel to provide fresh flowers.”

"That's... That's an incredibly devoted husband and a wonderful gardener." She could see pride swell in his eyes and noted he held a special place in his heart for Floki. She added a mental note to show respect to the man if she met him.

"Yes. Do you have any plans tomorrow?" He released her hand, settling into his seat as more people walked in.

"Aside from a new class I'm taking at the gym; my schedule is clear for

days of the week." She folded her hands in her lap, glancing at the person who sat on the other side of her.

A lithe woman with light brown hair and a blonde man sat on the other side of her. She noticed a few healing marks on his skin that peeked out from underneath his suit sleeves. The woman glanced at Ivar, eyes narrowed with

then to Cora, smiling brightly.

"I don't think we've met before. I'm Angrboda, This is Sigurd." Angrboda's smile was brighter than most summer days. Cora cleared her throat and tried to return it.

"We haven't. I'm Cora, Ivar's.." She stopped herself, glancing at Ivar. "

Ivar looked pleased with her choice of words, smoothing a hand down her back in reassurance. "Are you certain you should be out of the hospital, Sigurd? I would hate for you to exacerbate your wounds."

"The doctors cleared him." Angrboda kept her words short, her tone stern.

Cora felt whiplash at the change in her eyes. From sweet and welcoming to cold, distant then to brimming with love when she looked at Sigurd.

"I'm sorry to hear he was hurt." Cora offered up, still smiling at Angrboda. “I hope you recover quickly and soon.”

Surprise rang across her features. "Thank you... It wasn't that bad. Nothing my husband can't handle."

Ivar snorted beside Cora, seemingly unhappy. "Imagine how your father would feel hearing you call him that."

Angrboda's features turned sour again. She said nothing, turning back to Sigurd to converse quietly. Cora looked between Ivar and Angrboda, wondering if there was a history between the two of them.

"They always act like that." Hvitserk's breath hit Cora's ear, making her squeak in surprise. He let out a joyful laugh, pulling a woman behind him to his seat beside Sigurd. "Yo, Ang. How's the gallery coming together?"

The woman with him didn't speak, practically clinging to Hvitserk with a death grip. With their seats taken, three others remained empty and Cora wondered if the remaining seats would be for his remaining siblings. She busied herself by listening to the conversations around her, picking up subtle information about the family dynamics.

Ivar, the youngest, seemed to strongly dislike when Hvitserk would aim a question at Cora. Given how many of the questions could have a double meaning, Cora didn't blame him. Hvitserk's date, Camilia, she guessed, spoke quietly with Sigurd, as did Angrboda except when Angrboda said something directly to Cora.

Cora felt a finger trace her exposed thigh but didn't look down, knowing it had to be Ivar. When his palm rested on top of her thigh that she reacted, his thumb drawing small, soothing circles. Their eyes connected and she swallowed hard.

He leaned to whisper in her ear, "I thought I didn't feel anything earlier. Are you not wearing anything underneath?" His hand slid under the slit of her dress, confirming his suspicions.

"I couldn't find a pair that didn't show." She admitted, trying to keep her smile from faltering.

He hummed in her ear, pulling back from her. Cora groaned inwardly at how

smirk on his lips was. She had to look away from his intense gaze, or her face would show just what the two of them had spoken about.

She grabbed her napkin and fanned her face, glancing at him again.

Ivar still had that cocky grin on his lip. Someone cleared their throat at the table, taking one of the three empty seats. Cora tore her gaze away from Ivar to look at the newcomer, a man with reddish-brown hair and no date.

"Sorry for being late. Torvi wasn't feeling well." His gaze narrowed on Cora, inspecting her with suspicion. He jerked his chin up in greeting. "Who is she?"

"That's Cora, Ivar's

" Hvitserk waggled his eyebrows at the newcomer.

"Date." Ivar corrected Hvitserk, thankfully. "This is Ubbe, my oldest brother."

Of the men and women sitting in front of Cora, she found herself feeling uncomfortable under Ubbe’s pointed stare at her. Unlike the intensity Ivar had shown her, it felt like he was trying to pull every secret from her soul.

Absent-mindedly, she placed her hand over Ivar's on her thigh, squeezing it for comfort. "Quit looking at her like she's a piece of meat. You are scaring her."

Ubbe's nostrils flared with an exhale of breath. "I'm not the one she should be scared of." He muttered in reply, eyes switching to Ivar.

"It's okay, Ivar. I'm nervous about meeting your family, is all." Cora felt his hand flip over and intertwined his fingers with hers. She focused on the warmth of his hand, speaking with more confidence, "I want to make a good impression."

Ubbe's brow cocked up, and he leaned back in his chair. "How did you two meet? You don't look like someone who would normally be around." His fingers made a swirling motion.

"A friend, James," Cora answered, partially truthful, "He set us up." Her eyes went to Ivar to assess if he was pleased with her answer. Ivar had his lips pressed together, looking like he was suppressing a laugh.

"You know Bucky?!" Hvitserk yelled, excitement filling his features so much so that he stood up and slammed his palms on the table. It was strange that no other table glanced toward the noise. "I love that guy! He's great!"

"Y-yes, he's a pretty good

" It felt weird for Cora to mention another donor to someone that wasn't Yevette. "I didn't know he knew your family, Ivar."

"He

family." Ubbe supplied, glancing to Hvitserk, who promptly sat down. "A shame he and Gyda didn't work out, or he would be by marriage, too."

Cora's mouth made an 'Ooh' sound, glancing at Ivar. She wasn't sure what to say since she and Barnes had never discussed his private life.

"They went on a date," Ivar said, pulling his hand away from hers. He chuckled to himself. "Bucky said it didn't go well; Gyda says it went perfectly."

"No way. She spoke to you about it?" Angrboda piped up, "She wouldn't talk to me about it."

Ivar shrugged his shoulders, stroking Cora's thigh as the pre-planned meals came out. "Bucky mentioned something about Lagertha catching him and Gyda smooching on the video doorbell. The video is in the group chat."

Angrboda gapped and then searched her bag for her phone. "I have got to see this. She's so shy about him."

Cora bit her bottom lip, trying to keep herself from laughing. She had kissed Barnes many, many times. He did enjoy using his tongue. "Lagertha is Gyda's mother, right?" She asked Ivar, who nodded with a smile on his face.

"She's very protective of Gyda. She is my only sister. You know how..." He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, sucking in a breath. "Bucky is

." She didn't miss the quirk of his lips at the pun.

"That's terrible and I shouldn't think it's funny." She heard quiet moans beside her, followed by a loud, 'This is being recorded.'

This strange exchange between the entire table about Barnes seemed to relax everyone to Cora's presence, including the suspicious Ubbe, who kept an albeit small smile on his lips during the whole night.

When dessert plates had been cleared, Cora felt happy with the amount of control she exercised with the delicious food. When all of them rose to leave, Hvitserk insisted on a full-body hug and she was pretty sure he had felt her ass during it.

They were the last two remaining in the dining room at the end of the goodbyes and she looked to Ivar, pleased to see him in good spirits after what she considered a rocky start to the night.

"Would you oppose a request I have?" He asked quietly.

"That would depend on the request." She answered, watching his confident demeanor shrink back.

"I know we agreed to

but I do have a room here."

She chewed her bottom lip, realizing that's why he had asked his earlier question. "I.. think that would be a good idea." His smile came back tenfold, causing her to blush. "You planned this from the beginning, didn't you?"

Ivar shrugged his shoulders. His smile told her yes, he had planned it. "Seeing as you play well with my family, I want to see how well you play with me." His words sent a shiver up her spine. "I think there are some details we need to speak about as well."

27 notes · View notes

honestsycrets · 3 years

Photo

And then he converted.

#i don't believe it but i still poke fun #Vikings gifs #honestsycrets gifs #honestsycrets hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk #hvitserk's heathen feast #marco ilsø #vikings spoilers

295 notes · View notes

oddsnendsfanfics · 3 years

Text

Backyard Movie Nights

Movie nights in the backyard with Hvitserk. Hvitty has it all set up. All you have to do is show up and enjoy 🍿🎥

#marco ilsø #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserk lothbrok

47 notes · View notes

whenimaunicorn · 3 years

Note

I can't get over how good hvitserk and ivar looked this season!!! Whenever they showed up i could only stare at their BEAUTIFUL faces. It was quite hard when they were both on screen. Then i had switch every second to not miss both of their beauty. Ugh i still dream about them...

HARD AGREE

#Vikings 6b #hvitserk's heathen feast #ivar's heathen army

23 notes · View notes

wanderlust-imagines · 4 years

Text

I just realized something I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Vikings centaur AU....that’s a missed fucking Opportunity that is getting slept on 😭

#centaur #centaur au #viking imagine #vikings imagine #ivar fanfic #vikings smut #ivar ragnarsson imagine #hvitserk's heathen feast #ivars heathen army #exophilia

47 notes · View notes

bouncehousedemons · 1 year

Text

Recovery

Rating: T Pairing: Hvitserk x Ubbe Warnings: Implied/referenced drug use, implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism, mental health issues, psychological trauma Word count: 600

Summary: A fix it for poor season 6a Hvitserk in the wake of Thora’s death.

Written for @vikingstrash

Read the full fic here.

38 notes · View notes

nanahachikyuu · 2 years

Text

van gogh's sunflowers // modern!hvitserk x reader

Summary: your long-time friend, Freydis, calls you to vent about her relationship with her boyfriend Ivar, and your brother-in-law, no less. Not wanting to intrude, but still wishing to help your dearest friend, you talk about your relationship with Hvitserk, and all the moments that make you certain he is the only one for you.

Pairing: hvitserk x reader

Type: one-shot

Warnings: fluff, swearing, sexual inuendo

Word count: 3.465

Music insp.: Girassóis de Van Gogh by Baco Exu do Blues (I’m back with another Brazilian artist).

A/N:

you will not find any Freydis hate on this blog

everything in italic is a flashback

brief explanation about the title: “When I say, ‘I get you pregnant every night just to see the sun rise’, it's like saying I need something to hold on to so I can live. Life is very urgent, in a hurry to happen. And when I talk about haste I automatically think of Van Gogh's sunflowers, who had the thing about him painting so fast that he could draw the sunflower perfectly before the sunflower stained.” (Baco Exu do Blues about his song “Girassóis de Van Gogh)

Gentle reminder that English is not my first language, and this was not proofread.

The sound of your cellphone ringing echoes through the house. Setting down the laundry basket in your arms, you rush to answer it, thinking it could be an emergency – who would call someone else when a simple text could suffice, in case it wasn’t urgent.

As you pick up your phone, the name “Freydis”, your best friend, flashes on the screen, accompanied by a picture of the both of you on your bachelorette party a few months back, making you smile fondly at the memory as you accept the call.

“Hi, Blondie! Is everything ok?” you ask, sitting on a stool by the kitchen island.

“No, it’s not! I me-“, she starts, but you interrupt her, already alarmed.

“What happened? Are you alright? Did something happen to Ivar?” you ask one question after the other, not giving the other woman a chance to answer any of them.

“That prick is more than fine” Freydis answers angrily.

She doesn’t need to articulate any further for you to understand what had happened. Better yet, who happened. Freydis had been dating Ivar, your brother-in-law nonetheless, for almost a year now, and to say their relationship was a rollercoaster was to put it mildly.

Taking a deep breath, you immediately regret your choice of seating, realizing this was bound to be a very long phone call.

“By the gods, woman. Don’t scare me like that” you scold. “It’s not good for the baby”.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that… wait, are you telling me you’re pregnant? I’m your best friend and future godmother to this baby, and this is how you choose to tell me the news?”.

“Chill, blondie! I’m not pregnant, I swear. It was just a joke”.

“Then it’s not funny at all. Ivar is right, you know, Hvitserk is not a good influence on you, you prick”

“I thought Ivar was the prick”.

“Well, he is!” she exclaims, suddenly remembering who she was truly mad at.

“So, you want to tell me what happened, or…”

“I think Ivar’s going to break up with me” she exclaims, suddenly.

“What? Has he said anything?”, you ask, truly surprised by the news. This was not the conversation you were expecting, at all.

“No, not really. It’s just that…” she cuts herself, and you can hear her taking a deep breath through the speaker.

“Then what made you believe he’s about to end your relationship?”.

“It’s just… He’s been so distant lately, so closed off. Last night, we barely said a word to each, and he didn’t even stay over, said he should sleep at his place, something about having plans with his brothers or whatever”.

“Babes, you know Ivar better than anyone. He has his moments, like everyone else does. And for what is worth, the Ragnarssons did have plans for the day. I didn’t even get to see Hvitty this morning before Ubbe picked him up”.

“That has never stopped him before. But anyways, it wasn’t just yesterday. I feel like he’s pulling away from me. Ivar used to be so open, he’d share everything with me, and even if he had acted like this before, it was never this bad”.

“Look, I really don’t believe it’s my place to intrude. You’re my best friend, but Ivar is Hvitserk’s brother, we’re family. And also, I don’t want him to feel like we’re ganging up on him”.

“Yeah, I get that, and I don’t want to put you in this position either. But you’re the only person I have to talk about this with”.

“It’s ok, Blondie”, you sigh. “Can I ask you something?”.

“Sure…”.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to ask: do you see a future with Ivar?”.

You give her some time to gather her thoughts as you stand from the stool and walk to the couch, setting yourself more comfortably. You notice Hvitserk left a hoodie hidden between the cushions and you pick it up to dress it. His musky smell immediately envelopes you, making you feel a lot more relaxed than you were moments before – and much more ready to face this conversation with Freydis. You loved your friend deeply, but she needed to get a hold of her feelings for the youngest Ragnarsson soon, before both of them had their hearts broken.

“I love him, y/n. I really do”.

“I know that, sweetie. But that’s not what I asked. Let me put it this way – do you love Ivar enough to see a future with him? Sometimes people can mistake love for passion or lust, and even though that’s also important, when separated the result might not be pretty”.

“What do you mean?”.

“I believe there’s a difference between passion and love, sweetie. Whereas passion can be fleeting, love has the power to be everlasting. If you believe that your feelings towards Ivar are momentaneous, perhaps you should reassess your relationship. But I guess the first question still is do you love him? If the answer is yes, then that’s all the encouragement you need to work, and not fight, never fight, for what you have”.

She takes a moment to answer, and when she does her voice is heavy with emotion.

“Ivar is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes upon, his blue eyes are more than gorgeous, they carry so much emotion, and sometimes when he’s looking at me, I feel like he could see my soul. But he’s not just his good looks. He’s also extremely intelligent, sometimes too intelligent for his own good. He’s very kind, even if sometimes he tries to hide it underneath his hostile demeanor. To me Ivar is like a god, he’s above all men, above all others. The gods made him, and I wish he could love himself as much as I love him”.

“That’s all very beautiful, and also a little bit psychotic, but I’ll let it slide for now… You’re the only one who can comprehend your feelings, and if you’re so sure about them, and about Ivar, then make sure you let him know that before it’s too late”.

“How did you become so wise?”.

“Trust me, Blondie, I’m far from wise. I just talk from experience”.

“When did you know? With Hvitserk, when did you know that he was it for you?” Freydis asks, her voice merely above a whisper.

You take a moment to think about your response. Looking around, your eyes catch all the memoirs from your relationship with Hvitserk. The tiniest details that may not me important to other people, but that mean the world to you. For instance, the rock shaped like a heart that he found on one of your first dates, as you two walked by the shores of Kattegat. You remember how Hvitserk was excited about it, and how he decided it was a good sign about your relationship from the gods themselves. Now, the heart shaped rock sat on your coffee table, working as paper weight.

“I don’t think there was a specific moment, you know? It was more like a combination of little things, and with each new moment I was just more and more certain about him, and about us” you answer simply.

Honestly, you really couldn’t point out the moment you knew Hvitserk was the only one for you. In reality, you couldn’t remember a time where he wasn’t that special person. He had invaded your life, taken over every sense of it, and you just let him. How could you say no when he made you feel the happiest you’ve ever been. Until him, you didn’t know it was possible to overflow with love, but Hvitserk showed you it was not only possible, but undeniably gratifying. He changed your life with his Labrador puppy personality, and you haven’t looked back ever since.

“Nobody is perfect, Freydis, and every relationship comes with its struggles. You just have to decide for yourself if it’s worth it or not” is all you say.

When the call ends, you stay where you are, sitting on the couch. The conversation with Freydis had gotten to you, reminiscing about your relationship with your husband.

(…)

One of yours and Hvitserk’s favourite activities was to walk by the shoreline in Kattegat. The two of you had been there countless times; late at night, after dates or when dinner with his family turned into a Shameless episode. Early mornings, before you moved in together, you’d meet at the beach after a night apart to watch the sunrise together. And after his nieces and nephews came along, he loved to spend the afternoons building sandcastles and eating ice cream before dinner, to their parents’ discontent.

“Did you know I’m a direct descendant of Odin?” Hvitserk comments beside you. You were laying on a blanket you had brought from home to enjoy the summer breeze, watching the stars above and listening to the soothing sound of the waves breaking.

“I’m sorry?” you ask, the comment so random you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.

“It’s true! Well, at least that’s what Ragnar told us every chance he got when we were growing up”, he continues, turning on his side so he could better face you. “Oh, and on my mom’s side, there’s Sigurd the Dragonslayer, who killed the dragon Fafnir. Sigurd is named after him”.

“I thought he was named after your grandfather”.

“Yeah, that too. There’s a lot of Sigurds in our family”, He laughs it off.

“So, you’re a descendant of both the All-Father and a famous Dragonslayer. You should’ve said that on our first date, no girl could say no to such epic bloodline” you play along.

“It really is epic, isn’t it? That’s why I got superpowers” he states, raising his eyebrows at you, his charming smile set to maximum force.

“Oh my God, you’re so full of yourself”, you exclaim, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “And what superpower were you graced with?”.

“You don’t know? I have the power to make you cum without using my hands” he replies, hands running up your bare legs and leaving a trail of goose bumps behind, his smile turning into the most mischievous smirk he could conjure.

“It’s time to go home” is all you say, standing up to gather your stuff as Hvitserk follows you, his deep and raspy laugh echoing through the night.

(…)

You could hear their laughter and screams of excitement before you even opened the front door. Confused, you leave your bag by the front door, and walk on your tip toes towards the noise coming from the kitchen. The image you’re presented with was one of pure chaos.

There was cookie dough and chocolate everywhere, and it seemed all your kitchen utensils were out of their cabinets, scattered all over the place. There was even a stool lying on the floor. By the stove, a very grimy Hvitserk was taking a batch of cookies out of the oven, with a vey excited, and equally disheveled Siggy, by his side. On the counter, Hali was making what seemed to be more cookies, with various shapes. A flour stain on his face, from his forehead to his chin – you didn’t see flour anywhere else. Lastly, on her hair highchair, Asa was looking at the scene with a look of pure dread on her little face, like she couldn’t believe what was playing out in front of her. Her little arms reached out to you the second she spotted you by the door.

“Is everything ok here or did the tornado make any victims?”, you ask, catching your boyfriend’s attention, and his army of oompa-loompas.

“Hi, baby” he greets you. “I didn’t hear you coming”.

“You want to tell me what’s happening?” you ask as you walk in the baby’s direction to save her from her high throne.

“Björn had a date”.

“Of course, he did”.

“And I convinced Ubbe and Torvi to leave the kids with me and have a day for themselves. So, we’re on baby duty until tomorrow”. Hvitserk explains, taking the cookies Hali was making to the oven.

You’re not surprised by that. Hvitserk’s loved kids, and he had a very special relationship with his nephews and nieces, but lately he’s been going out of his way to spend time with the kids. When you questioned him about it, he explained he wanted to get as much baby time as possible, so he’d be ready when his time came to be a daddy, and how could you argue against such logic? Not that you ever would, you loved the little goblins running around your kitchen just as much.

“Guthrum didn’t want to participate on your Baking Off contest?” you ask, noticing Torvi’s eldest son wasn’t present.

“He had a sleepover” Hvitserk replies, visibly bummed by the kid’s absence. Even though technically they weren’t related, he loved the boy as much as the other children, and always made sure he felt welcomed in the family.

“Ok then” you say, kissing Asa on her chubby cheek and setting her down back on the chair. Now that you think about it, you had no idea when Hvitserk had the chance to get it. “I guess we have some cookies to make”.

Your little group of chefs spent the afternoon making cookies, and you even attempted to teach them your aunt’s carrot cake with chocolate recipe. When the children felt like the kitchen was destroyed enough, you moved on to the backyard to play football and hide and seek. After dinner, you tried watching A Bug’s Life, one of your favourite movies growing up, but the kids were exhausted, and you and Hvitserk were the only ones paying attention to Filk’s effort to defeat the evil grasshoppers.

“Who’s the lucky and unsuspecting lady Björn went out with?” you ask later, making him laugh. In your arms, little Asa stirred a little when you stopped to rock her to face Hvitserk, who, in turn, was trying to dress a very sleepy Hali. Siggy, being older than her siblings, got to finish watching the movie before her bedtime.

“He wouldn’t tell us much. All we know is that her name is Gunnhild and that she’s a widow”.

“May the gods save her poor soul and heart”, you murmur.

“Thank you for today”, he says suddenly, taking you by surprise. “For being so chill with the kids and stuff”.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. Ever” you respond, kissing him softly on the cheek. “I love them too, you know that”.

Hvitserk smiles softly, finally putting Hali’s pajamas on and putting him to bed. “I can’t wait for our kids. Our own half me and half you minions. All five of them”.

“I beg your pardon?!” you exclaim, turning your face to him so fast, you think you heard your neck snap.

“Well, Björn already has three kids, and we all know there’s more coming. Dude has the worst pull out game ever” he defends. “And the others are all in relationships too, soon they’re going to start having babies of their own. Even Gyda is thinking about it, she told me so herself. We need to win this race!”.

“Race? What race?” you utter, but he just walks out of the room. “Hvitserk, come back here and explain yourself”.

“I’m going to check on Siggy” he calls from the hallway, leaving you astonished behind, baby Asa still sleeping on your arms.

(…)

As most people in this part of the world, the Lothbrok family loved football, and with that being so, they took every opportunity that presented itself to play against one another. Therefore, that’s how you found yourself one afternoon, sitting under a huge umbrella, with Ivar by your side playing referee, whilst Hvitserk played with Björn, Floki, and Sigurd, against Ragnar, Ubbe, Athelstan and Rollo.

On the field, Hvitserk has the ball, running to the net and leaving his adversaries behind. He attempts a kick, and the ball fly past Athelstan, stopping at the back of the net.

“GOAL” you shout from your seat as Ivar validates the score pointing to the centre of the field. “YEAH HVITSERK”.

You watch as he runs towards you, taking off his jersey (because yes, they had their own custom jerseys made) and spinning it. His broad and sculpted chest, sweat making the tattoo on his shoulder shine was a sight to behold.

When Hvitserk reaches you, he holds you by the waist, pulling you closer to him. “Did you like the goal, baby? I did it specially for you”.

“It deserves a Puskas” you answer, before kissing him deeply.

“You two are so disgusting” Ivar murmurs beside you.

(…)

You wake up in the middle of the night, chilling from the early morning cold. It takes you a moment to realize why, Hvitserk had once again stolen the covers from you. He laid beside you, only his blond head visible underneath the mountain of duvets he had covered himself with.

Taking a deep breath, you try pushing some of the blanket to you, but without success as it seemed he had managed to trap the covers under his body. You had begged Hvitserk so many times now to dress for bed according to the weather, but the stubborn man refused, arguing he was only able to sleep on his underwear and nothing else (nothing being his favourite outfit – his words, not yours). However, he wasn’t immune to the cold Kattegat winter and, despite the top of the line heating system you had, it could get a bit chilly in the house during the night. As a result, Hvitserk would get cold, stealing all the covers from you in the process.

“Hvitserk” you whisper, trying to wake him up. When he doesn’t even budge you try again, this time shaking him by the shoulder, but that doesn’t work either. The man could easily sleep through an environmental disaster, it wouldn’t be you calling him that would wake him up so easily.

Giving up, you gather up the courage to get out of bed and get more blankets from one of the extra bedrooms, and maybe even a sweater. But as soon as you make the first move to stand up, Hvitserk moves beside you, his strong arms coming from behind you to envelope your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

“Baby, why you so cold?” he asks when your freezing skin touches his much warmer.

“Are you kid-“ you snap, but before you can complete your sentence, he continues.

“Come closer, I’ll warm you up” Hvitserk says, voice still drowsy. Pulling the blankets to cover you both, he snuggles you even closer, one leg passing over yours, the arm around your waist holding on tighter, and the other hand holding your cold one.

Forgetting the reason why you were mad at him, you let him hold you, his warm body warming up yours. You wonder if one day you will ever be mad at this man, or if his littlest gestures would always calm you down.

(…)

The sound of the door slamming wakes you from your daydreaming and you can hear Hvitserk whistling to himself.

“Baby, I’m home”, he calls as he enters the living room where you’re still sited.

“Hi, Hvitty” you answer, voice failing from all the emotion bubbling inside your chest.

“What happened?” he asks when he notices your watery eyes, sitting by your side on the couch and enveloping you with his arms.

“Nothing much. I was just talking to Freydis and…” you answer, melting into his embrace.

“Oh let me guess, trouble in paradise? Ivar wouldn’t shut up during lunch. He even spoiled the match. Only Ivar could be so annoying and persistent to spoil a football match” he complains, making you laugh.

“I’m sorry you had to go through such hardship, baby” your hand on his cheek, you pull his face towards yours, lips meeting his soft ones on a gentle kiss, hands running through his blond hair.

“It was so difficult” he murmurs on your lips, deepening the kiss and pushing you to your back, his body coming over yours.

As it usually works between the two of you, the kiss turns into more, and soon you’re both breathing hard, hands running all over each others’ bodies.

“I love you, Hvitserk” you say when he breaks the kiss to take off your borrowed hoodie. Up close, you can see his eyes glistening with your sudden confession, all the sentiments you were sure were visible on your eyes reflecting back at you.

He gives up on his task to remove your clothes for the moment, bending down so his forehead was touching yours. Voice heavy with emotion, Hvitserk says:

“I love you, y/n”.

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

(if you wish to be added or removed from the taglist, please just let me know).

#vikings imagines #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x you #hvitserk imagines #modern hvitserk x reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #vikings fanfiction #vikings history #vikings #hvitserk ragnarsson #nanahachikyuu

89 notes · View notes

glitterviking · 3 years

Text

I want to kiss Hvitserk more than anything in the world with these lips. It’s an endless fantasy I think about everyday and night. Ugh I’m a tortured mess by this soft and sensual, yet fierce and bloody 🩸 man. I want to tend to his EVERY need 👄 Marco, call me mkay?

Oh and I would LOVE ❤️ it if some of you writers wanted to use my lips photo in some of your reader + Hvitzerk edits. Or even one with Ivar The Bonless.

#vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #marco ilso #marco ilsø #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserkedit #hvitty #ilovemarcoilso #kissing you #kiss me #let me kiss him #let me kiss you #shameless #obsessed #take me now

3 notes · View notes

lisinfleur · 3 years

Text

Cuddling aftersex with Hvitserk would be like...

The request:

Author’s Notes | Oh, our pretty sweet husband material hahaha We all know Hvitserk is the best husband and this is canon! Info | Viking Age AU ⁑ Warnings: Erotic content. +18

The caresses start as soon as the pleasure comes

Little giggles against your skin

Sweet nothings into your ears

Panting breaths that cross each other as he kisses your lips

Skins were made to be glued to each other

Spaces are not allowed

Hands just cannot be still

Your scent is his favorite smell - he'll want it and get it from anywhere his nose can nestle on

Your taste is his favorite flavor - he'll get it from anywhere his mouth can touch

If he's not tired enough to stop, the caresses can pretty much end up starting it all over

If he's already tired - which probably means it is morning already - you'll get caresses until you fall asleep

And maybe more.

Maybe longer.

Maybe he'll wake you up with them

Maybe you'll make love once again before breakfast

Then sleep the whole day for one more night of pure bliss.

Don't you dare to leave his arms!

You get up, he'll wake up as soon as your warmth leaves the bed

A perfect night ends up in a delicious cuddle

And his favorite way to sleep is around (or inside!) you.

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

#history vikings #imagine vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk whiteshirt #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #sister wives #headcanon

110 notes · View notes

writingfromasgard · 2 years

Text

[Ch4] A Professional Donation

[Ch1] || [Ch2] || [Ch3] || [ML] || [AO3]

Cora held the bag full of folded clothes in her hand as she approached the expansive home of Laila. She pressed the doorbell and waited, knowing it would only take minutes for the live-in staff to open it for her. She readied herself on the way here to be the socialite's entertainment for the night: Well educated, polite, and always happy to speak to anyone. The door opened to reveal Mr. Ward, a middle-aged man with dark features and a well-honed neutral face.

"Welcome, Miss Cora. Allow me to take your bag." He held his hand, and Cora handed it over without arguing. "I shall take it to Laila's room after I take you to her."

It took time to get used to the formality in the home, considering Laila's personality. Following behind the butler, Cora admired the decorations that must have taken hours to hang precisely. Several floral arrangements, fresh and immaculate, sat in vases along the way. Shiny ribbons of streamers crossed each other in the same colors as the flowers, only to end upon reaching the banquet hall's archway.

"I could set my watch by you." Cora heard Laila's voice. It drew her attention away from the intricate decor to the woman sneaking a bite of fresh fruit from the catering table. Mr. Ward bowed to Cora, presumably leaving to place the bag in Laila's room. She approached her slowly, unsure of how Laila felt about the Prussian blue outfit. The downside to Laila's quirks was the near-neurotic obsession with blue.

Laila reached out for her hand and held it high above her head. Cora twirled, ducking underneath the shorter woman's arm. "I have to take you shopping again. You really are the best match for my style."

With a genuine smile, Cora stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Laila's waist. "You would call me more if that were true." Laila's lashes fluttered and then closed as she leaned in for a chaste kiss. The taste of honeydew washed across Cora's tongue and she suppressed the urge to gag. Honeydew was one of the few foods Cora detested.

"I was traveling abroad for business." Cora broke the embrace and held her hand over her heart. "I promise it was for business. I can never stay away from you for too long. Your taste is like no other." Cora glanced to the caterer, whose face had turned cherry red, rivaling the color of tomatoes on his plate.

"I'm only teasing. We all have our jobs to do." She leaned back in, kissing her cheek this time. "How many guests are arriving? Is there anyone I should know?"

Fingertips traced over the neckline of her dress, Laila's lips in a pout. "No more than thirty people. Most are loyally married. I can have you all to myself. Well, there are always THOSE married men." With an exasperated sigh and roll of her eyes, she rested her head on Cora's chest. "I want to be greedy with you tonight. No sharing. I'm tired of sharing my precious Cora."

A sadness in her tone took Cora by surprise. "It's alright to be greedy, Lai. Everyone needs to be selfish to preserve their identity." Gently kissing her forehead, she pulled back to an appreciative smile from Laila.

Cora was sure something had happened during the travel. Laila was rarely one to keep Cora to herself. Sharing came at a premium as well. In the four years that she had been generously donating to Cora, only a handful of times had she kept Cora to herself and that was during the first year. A look of sadness briefly flashed across Laila's features before her chipper self returned.

"I fully intend on being greedy with your affection tonight. Sadly I can't do that until after this little get-together. You've met a few of my guests before. As always, you will be my visiting 'friend.'" With another twirl, she pulled Cora's arm toward the spread of food. "I don't expect you to do much other than keep away perverts and socialize with the ones you know."

A genuine laugh bubbled up in her throat. "Does that mean I should keep away from you?" She captured her bottom lip between her teeth, stifling another chuckle at the glare she received.

"Keep it up and I will use this." She waved a piece of honeydew on a toothpick at her.

------------------

Cora inhaled deeply, letting the chilled night air fill her lungs. It was re-invigorating for her. The party was in full swing a few feet behind her. Laila had long abandoned her to the sharks, not an unusual occurrence for her. Minutes before the night ends, Laila would reappear to run her off to a quiet bedroom. A moment of clarity before she'd go back to schmoozing with the primarily male party.

"Are you here alone?" A gruff, masculine voice sounded off behind her, with fewer steps away from her personal boundaries than she would like. "You and Laila were dancing earlier together. I'm sure you're aware that means nothing at her parties."

Cora turned, a smile plastered on her face. "Just a good friend. I visit her the night she returns home."

When she took a better look at his face, she stiffened. The man had perfectly manicured hands with slicked-back brown hair, a welcoming smile, and an unlit cigar in his hand. She watched him cut the tip off and place the guillotine cutter back inside his coat.

"Hm." He pulled out a light, puffing on the cigar until he was happy." I'm Captain Leon. You can call me Leo."

He extended his hand out, lighter still in hand. "Delighted to make your acquaintance. I'm Corinne; everyone calls me Cora." It felt calloused and on the back of his hand, she could see a few fading scars that disappeared into the sleeve of his suit. When it was over, he moved to stand beside her on the balcony.

"It feels like she goes off, doesn't it?" He inhaled his cigar. "Since she was married, it's as if she's on house arrest. Free when he goes off on business trips, on a leash when he's home."

Cora blinked slowly. Her mind stuttered as it processed what he said. That was a rule. Laila knew that was a rule.

He exhaled downwind of her and raised his brow in question. "Sorry, that was crude. Martin is a fine man. My precinct benefits from his business dealings."

"You're fine. It was only a shock to see we share similar views. Perhaps you are also a friend who visits her on her return." She stated, not genuinely caring one way or another.

"Oh nooo. Na-ah. Hell no. I wouldn't touch that wildcat with a ten-foot dick." He slid his fingers along his jawline in thought. "I could mess up the generous donations I get from Martin."

"Does the mayor have you so ill-funded?" She turned her body toward him, leaning on one forearm beside him. A deep throaty laugh came from him. He shifted and mirrored her stance, a cocky smile building on his face.

"The backing helps cushion the budget for pay raises."

Cora pretended to be shocked, gasping. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, mockingly surprised. He leaned in close to her, his eyes looking down at her form. Heat gathered in his sights with each passing moment.

"There you are." THe klick-klack of heels came running over to them. Laila grabbed onto her elbow and pulling her in the direction of the open double doors. "We're wrapping up the party and they want a group photo. Let's gooo."

Cora managed a slight wave to Leo before she had to take a few wider paces to keep from tripping in her heels. An extensive line snaked toward the entryway and Laila elbowed her way through it until she was standing on the top shelf, square in the middle. Cora settled up next to her, careful to not to bump anyone as the crowd filled in the remaining empty spots on the steps. A photographer directed men to exchange places then yelled for everyone to repeat a word.

Several flashes later, Laila and Cora were waving goodbye to the visitors. The dismissal happened over the next twenty minutes between compliments, confirmations of next week's plans, and occasional jokes.

Alone, she wondered how to approach the issue she'd been shoving down for the past hour. A breach of contract on Cora's side would be immediate termination. A violation of her donors' side would result in a hefty fee depending on the severity, blacklisting for the entire network. Laila's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her mind out of the clusterfuck she'd have to deal with tonight. A delay could result in punishment for her.

Taking in the sensitivity of her current situation, she leaned into the embrace. She would send for a car first then approach the unbelievable news. Safety first, confrontation later.

"Let's go back to the room. I could use a bath." Laila nuzzled her neck. Cora felt disgust gurgle to life in her stomach. "And help."

"A bubble bath?" Cora pushed the shorter woman's hair behind her ear. All she needed was to wear the mask for an hour longer -one hour.

Laila laughed, slipping toward her room upstairs. She wasn't too far behind her, slipping into her bag to text Tom about pickup. She shoved the donation envelop under her change of clothes and waited for Tom to confirm.

"Cora! Undress me. I want to feel your hands on my body." Laila called from the bathroom. The sound of running water came from the cracked door. Cora slipped out of her heels, replacing them with comfortable flats.

"That's not all you're going to feel," Cora shouted with a husky tone. Her complaint with this job was the on-demand horny her long-time clients sometimes expected. That was off the table for the foreseeable future, given what she had learned. Her phone buzzed, Tom's name popping up with an ETA of 5 minutes. She tapped a reply for him to come in if she wasn't outside 5 minutes after he arrived.

She stuffed the phone down, moving toward the tub. The heavenly fragrance of lemongrass blasted her in the face when she pushed open the door. Laila was sat on the edge of the bath, holding up her left for Cora to untie the heels she wore.

"Before we start, I need to ask you a question." She held her ankle, pulling the strings to loosen it. She smoothed over the indents on her calf before looking into Laila's eyes. She switched to the other, slowly pulling it loose this time. "Are you married to Martin?"

The shock that flooded every feature on her face was more than enough confirmation. "M-Martin? What? No. It's part of the contract. No married people."

She dropped her other ankle and moved between her legs, reaching for the cream-colored stockings next. "Lai." Cora said, rolling it down with Laila's leg dropped over her shoulder. "I spoke with someone new who said you are only accessible when your husband is away on business trips." She snaked her hand to the other leg, letting both of them rest on her shoulders.

Laila had to grab the other side of the tub to keep herself from falling in. "It isn't what you think. We might be legally married, but our marriage has been over for years."

Cora rose, letting the legs fall off her shoulders. She pressed her hips against Laila's, moving her lips close. She kept her eyes locked with the other woman's. Instinctively, Laila started to grind against Cora. Feeling pissed off, she dipped her fingers between their bodies. She focused on applying rough pressure in small circles when she heard a gasp. "It's in the contract." She parroted, watching one arm slip from the edge of the tub.

Laila eased herself to lay across the wide clawfoot. "We weren't married when we had the contract signed. I didn't want to l-lose you-you." She wildly bucking now, eyes fluttering closed. "You're too perfect for me."

A strange mix of pride and anger ran its course through Cora. "This is the informal serving of contract termination. You lied to me, Laila. I can't allow for any exception in my rules or Yevette's." She pulled away, moving back out of the bathroom. With one quick zip, she gathered her things to leave -- ignoring the scream of her name followed by a splash in the soapy water.

Tom met her on the doorsteps, taking her luggage for her. He guided her into the car, placed her bags in the trunk and buckled himself in when Laila made it to the door. She was drenched in soapy water and trying to escape the butler's grasp, yelling with her hand outstretched for her lost companion. This anger had been one of the coldest feelings Cora had felt in years.

"Let's go, Tom. Would you mind letting Yevette know I will be taking a client's phone call tonight? Ivar originally requested one for tonight. I will let her know in the morning if it happens."

"No problem. I'm sure she'll want to know what happened in there tonight. Did you get the money?"

"Yeah, the total amount. It's in the bag and I'll give it to you when I get out." Standard protocol for when something goes sour. Yevette stated that she could refund any miscommunications between the staff and donors.

#ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #vikings fanfic #ivar x reader #ivar x cora #ivar's heathen army #fanfiction #ragnar lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe lothbrok #modern au #ubbe's wolfpack #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #sigurd's band members?#vikings

27 notes · View notes