Tumgik
#modern hvitserk
disasterofastory · 2 months
Text
The good guy (Hvitserk x Reader)
The good guy Hvitserk x Reader Warnings: Reader is a few years older. And let's pretend that the age difference between Bjorn and his brothers is much smaller. Oral.
Summary: mordern!Hvitserk wants to show you he is the one you need.
Tumblr media
The fake leather sticks to the back of your thighs as you push yourself next to the wall in the booth Bjorn chose for the night. A small grimace contorts your face at the uncomfortable feeling. Reaching down, you grab the hem of your skirt to pull on the fabric. Jeans may have been a better choice, but it doesn't matter now.
The pub is loud and smells like cheap beer and spicy snacks. The noises of the others mix with the game playing on the TV in the corner. Your eyes land on the screen for a second, and when the ball doesn't reach the goal, your attention turns back to the pair in front of you.
Bjorn and his girlfriend sit next to each other. The blonde man's arm is around the girl's shoulder. She is busy with her beer while her eyes scan the crowded place. Her makeup softly glints under the lights as she turns her head to the side. "Hvitserk and Ubbe will be there in a few," Bjorn says after a few seconds. His bright eyes are still on the screen of his phone. "Torvi too." "Won't it be awkward?" You ask him, glancing at Gunnhild. "It's fine," the man replies. "It was two years ago."
Their relationship didn't end well between them, and when you heard about the new love blossoming between Torvi and Ubbe, you couldn't imagine the family holidays at the Ragnarsson household.
"If you say so," you hum, holding your glass to your lips and frown when you notice Bjorn's smirking at you with mischief in his eyes. "What?" You ask him. Gunnhild grins too. "I heard something the other day," Bjorn muses. "And?" You ask. "A conversation between Ubbe and Hvitserk," Bjorn adds. "You know what?" You groan at his teasing. "I don't care. Don't tell me!" "Okay," he continues grinning. All of you know you won't keep long from questioning the burly man to spill the tea. There must be a good reason why Bjorn wants to tell you something about his two younger brothers. "Oh, come on!" You groan again. Your palm lands on the wooden table with a smack. "Tell me!" "Hvitserk likes you." Gunnhild is the one who has mercy on you. Excitement glints in her eyes as she waits for your reaction. "I mean... we are friends," you tell her, shrugging. You know all of Bjorn's brothers. Ubbe and Hvitserk are your friends, and Sigurd and Ivar don't hate your presence either. "You don't understand," Bjorn shakes his head. "He likes-likes you." You freeze, staring at them. "No," you reply, and your friends laugh. "Yes," Bjorn argues. "I heard them talking about you a few days ago. He is quite smitten with you." "And they are here," Gunnhild adds, keeping her eyes on the entrance of the pub.
You feel your stomach dropping while you watch the newcomers approaching your table. Half of your mind still tries to process Bjorn's words. Can it be true? You always thought about the brothers as Bjorn's younger siblings. Nothing more. Nothing less.
"Hey, guys!" Hvitserk's cheerful voice breaks the line of your thoughts. Your eyes wander up at the young man who is already watching you. Heat creeps up on your face at his attention on you, and you force your gaze to move onto the couple next to him. And it doesn't get better. Ubbe and Torvi watch you with a strange glint in their eyes. Or maybe you are just imagining it. "I need a drink," you gasp. "Can I get you anything?" "I will go with you," Bjorn says, standing up to follow you to the bar. "Sit down, guys," he adds. "We will be back in a minute."
"You think too hard," Bjorn says, standing next to you while you wait for your orders. "I'm not," you murmur, looking down at the counter. "I'm fine." "What's wrong?" He asks, leaning closer. "I mean, I'm the most handsome brother, but Hvitserk is a good guy too." "How can you tell that?" You ask, frowning. Eyes still on the wooden surface. "He is your little brother." "And I know him," Bjorn reasons. "You always choose the wrong guys," he continues, and you grimace. He is right. "Hvitserk would be good." "He is younger than me." The man scoffs. "So? Look, Hvitserk is like a puppy. And I mean it in a good way. And the younger lads always try to prove themself harder..." "Yeah, I remember," you murmur. "You really proved yourself back then to a lot of women." "Yeah," he nods, not trying to deny his past. "But it was me. Hvitserk is different." A heavy sigh leaves your lips, and you can't help but feel pathetic. You are already deep in a relationship that doesn't even exist. Hvitserk said nothing about his feelings for you. Maybe it isn't even true. Maybe Bjorn heard it wrong, and you stress yourself for nothing.
You are so stupid.
When you get back to the table, Ubbe and Torvi are already sitting at the end of the table on two chairs while Hvitserk stands next to the booth to give you enough space to climb back to your seat. "Thanks," you murmur and trying not to jump when his hand lands on the small of your back as you walk past by him.
You are so deep in your panicked thoughts you don't even notice Hvitserk's eyes on you. And it's really surprising since it seems like the young man can't tear his attention away from you. The skirt highlights the curve of your hips and is short enough to give enough space for his wandering gaze on your bare thighs. His palm tingles with the need to put his hand on you. He is sure you are soft and warm and everything he wants.
Ubbe's snickering shakes him up from his staring. He doesn't even feel bad about it. He feels good and content when he looks at you. Hvitserk doesn't even know when and how his feelings turned about you. You were always the girl who came over to his older brother, and before he knew it, he wanted you to spend time with him too. And wanted much more too.
"And how's the game?" Ubbe asks, glancing up at the TV. None of you care about it. "They run," Gunnhild replies. "A lot." Hvitserk can't help but smile at your laugh. His fingers curl around his beer to keep himself from touching you.
The night goes amazingly. You laugh and drink a lot but can't seem to forget the closeness of Hvitserk next to you. He radiates warmth and happiness. The cologne he uses covers your senses. His thigh brushes against yours from time to time.
"Halfdan?" Bjorn's voice brings you back to reality. When you look at him, he is already watching you with a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah. Y/N could talk about him." "You know him?" Torvi asks, surprised. You shrug. "We dated for a little while." Hvitserk frowns at your words, but you don't notice it. His lips press into a thin line. "How was it?" You shrug again. "We didn't match." You went on a few dates with Halfdan, and while you enjoyed your time together, you found out soon enough that Halfdan was ready for a lot of things but not for a serious relationship. "Maybe you should date his brother," Ubbe suggests, laughing. "He was already married at least three times." "Yeah," you hum. "My dream is to be his fourth wife." "Isn't he old for you a bit?" Hvitserk asks, and your company needs all its strength not to laugh at the blonde man's jealous words. Heat rises up in your veins as you turn your head and look at him. A playful grin pulls on your lips. "Do you have something against older men?" Hvitserk doesn't care about older men or the brothers if they keep their distance from you. "Maybe we should go," Ubbe suddenly says, already standing up from his seat before his brother can say something to embarrass himself. "Ubbe is right," Bjorn nods. "It's late." You and Hvitserk need a few seconds to tear your gazes away from each other. "Hvitserk, maybe you should walk Y/N home," Torvi says, linking her arm over his boyfriend's. "It's dark outside." "Oh, no," you start. "You don't have to." "I do," he replies. "A walk would be nice." "I bet," Bjorn murmurs with a smirk. "I will call you tomorrow," he adds louder, watching you until you nod.
After saying goodbye to the others, you stay alone with Hvitserk. He walks by your side in silence for a few seconds. "So that's why you didn't come over for the few last weeks?" He asks after a while, keeping his gaze on the ground the whole time. His hands are in his coat pockets. "What do you mean?" You ask back. "Halfdan," he explains. "Oh," you hm. "No. I had a lot of things to do, and now that Bjorn moved out, I didn't really have the reason to go over." "Ivar misses you," he says, and you laugh. "I'm sure." "No, seriously," he clears his throat. "You can still hang out with us, right?" "I mean... yeah, I guess." You can feel your pulse in your throat as you wait for where this conversation will lead. "Or you could hang out just with me," he adds. "Ivar is boring anyway." You laugh again just to earn yourself more time to think about your next words. "I'm sure you have better things to do than spending your time with me," you tell him at the end. Your voice is quiet and unsure. You don't know what you should do. "Not really," he says. You can see his arm moving from the corner of your eyes. "I like being with you." Your heart jumps up to your throat next to your pulse when you feel his warm hand on you. His fingers are intertwined with yours. "Hvitserk," breathing out his name, you stop in front of the door of your flat. Your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip as you look down at your hands. "You are really beautiful tonight." You laugh. That damn Ragnarsson charm. "Hvitserk..." He steps closer. His free hand lands under your jaw to push your head up until your eyes meet. His thumb pulls out your lip from between your teeth. "What are you doing?" You ask him. You have to force the words out because of your barely working lungs. "I like you, Y/N," he says. No embarrassment or uncertainty shows on his face. "Hvitserk..." You sigh, trying to say something, but your brain doesn't really want to work either. He smirks. "I like it when you say my name." "You can't... It's not... You are..." He patiently waits for you to finish at least one sentence. The young man really likes the way you fluster in his presence. His thumb still caresses the soft line of your bottom lip, and his other hand slips to your waist to pull you closer. Your front is pressed against his. He can't help but glance down at your cleavage. "Are your roommate home?" "My eyes are up, Hvitserk," you tell him, smirking. "I know," he grins. "They are pretty too." "Be serious," you tell him even though you can't swipe the smile off your face. "I am," he replies, looking up into your eyes. "I like you, Y/N, ever since you came over four years ago, crying because your ex broke your heart." "Really? You needed my broken heart to notice me?" You tease. "Of course not," he says. "You were always pretty in my eyes. But that was the moment I realized I would be much better for you." "Hvitserk..." "What? Don't you like me? Or because of Bjorn? I don't think he would have anything against us... I mean, did you see his love life?" "No," you reply, shaking your head. "He wouldn't mind, I'm sure." "Then what?" He asks, pressing you closer to himself. "My age? It's just a few years, Y/N. It's nothing." "Hvitserk, I know you," you reason. "You are almost as bad as Halfdan. And don't tell me it's not true. I saw the different girls you brought home almost every week." "But they weren't you," he says. "They weren't important. But you are." "Hvitserk, I really want someone for the long run..." you tell him honestly. "I want a good relationship that can grow into more in the future. I don't play games anymore." "And I can be that guy," he says. "Let me prove it, Y/N." His words fan over your lips. "Let me in." When you say nothing, he leans even closer and kisses you for the first time. His lips are soft and taste like cheap beer.
And something snaps inside of you.
Your arms curl around his neck as you let him deepen the kiss. The gentle nibbles become bites on your bottom lip until he coaxes your mouth open for free access to your tongue. His kiss is searing and takes your breath away at once. Your lungs burn when he breaks away.
His words vibrate on your swollen lips when he speaks. His forehead is against yours. "Open the door, Y/N." "Hm?" You hum, still dizzy. A soft smile tugs at the corner of his lips. His hand slips to your ass to grab a handful of your flesh. A grunt echoes in his chest at the feeling. "The door, Y/N. Open it." "Oh," you gasp. "Right."
He watches you fiddling with your keys with amusement. You are flustered and breathless. The taste of your lips still tingles on his own. His heated gaze rakes over your body from behind. The skirt hugs your bottom perfectly. His hand moves on its own accord to touch you again, but he decides against it at the last moment. No, he won't act like a dog in heat.
At least not in front of your neighbors.
Hvitserk barely slides inside your house before pushing the door close with his leg. His hands find your waist again, and when you turn to face him, he kisses you again. Your back falls against the wall, and your fingers curl into his blonde hair at the nape of his neck. His presence covers your every sense. Your nostrils are filled with his smell, your fingertips are warm on his skin, and your lips burn with his taste.
"Go to the couch," he hums against your lips before kissing you again. His tongue ghosts over the line of your bottom lip.
You need every strength in your body to do as he says.
"Sit down." "You are really commanding," you state, still following his words. "I want to taste you before you change your mind," he says. In contrast to his words, his smile is soft and almost innocent. "You... what?" You gasp, shocked. His smile turns into something much more wicked as he falls to his knees before you. Even the view is enough to make your thighs shake and your inside tremble. "Open those legs for me, Y/N," he grins. His long fingers fiddle with the straps of your high heels, moving up to your calves, and when he reaches the curve of your knees, he rises both of your legs after another to kiss them. "Hvitserk!" You gasp, slapping down on the couch under you as you grab the edge when he pulls your legs apart. "You don't have to." "Oh, Y/N," he hums. "But I want to so much." "Oh!"
The breath you keep inside your lungs burns you. The skirt runs up on your thighs as your legs open under Hvitserk's heavy gaze. His fingers dig into your thighs. He plays and gropes the flesh all the way to your bottom. Another gasp escapes your lips when the man grabs you again to tug you to the edge of your seat. The skirt you wear hides nothing anymore. "It's pretty," he grins, playing with the lace of your panties. "Interesting, I always imagined you as a black lingerie woman." "I have black ones, too," you breathe out quietly. He smirks. "Maybe next time." His thumb glides over your pussy through the thin fabric. He can feel your folds and the wetness that coats your most sensitive parts. Your thighs jerk when his touch reaches your clit. He teases the hard bud until your panties are soaked. "You are so wet already," he says with satisfaction dripping from his words. It really makes him happy. It means to him that he is not the only one who feels attraction. You are not here in front of him out of pity or worry that you would hurt his feelings and damage your friendship with his oldest brother. You really feel something. Something that can grow into more if he doesn't fucks it up. "Let me..." he hums, and without waiting for your answer, he pulls down your panties with a swift motion. Soon, the fabric lies on the ground, forgotten. The cold air on your pussy makes your whole body shiver with anticipation. "You have no idea how many times I imagined you just like this," he says, staring at your center intently. "Open and wet for me." His finger glides over your folds, smearing your wetness in the process. "Hvitserk," you breathe out his name, urging him to stop his teasing already. Your whole body is tense with waiting and burning desire. "I'm here," he smirks, leaning closer. His words fan over your aching pussy. Your thighs want to close on their own accord, but the blonde man's shoulders stop them. His fingers dig deeper into your flesh. He can't get enough of the softness of your skin. His cock is painfully hard in his jeans, but he forces himself to focus on something else. And it's not a difficult thing to do when you are in front of him with spread legs and soaked cunt. A sharp gasp escapes your lips when he closes the space between you. His tongue flattens on your pussy, taking a teasing lick of your wetness. Your juices spread across his tastebuds. His eye fall shut at the feeling.
Hvitserk devours you to his heart's content while you squirm and whine under him. His tongue flicks your clit a few times before sinking his finger into your pussy and sucking at you at the same time. Your back arches, and your mouth falls open into an airy moan. You can feel the throbbing of your heart between your legs. It jumps and speeds up at every swirl and push Hvitserk does with his tongue and fingers. He spreads his two fingers inside you, stretching your walls and finding every sweet spot that makes you cry for more. To cry for him. "Hivtserk," you moan. "I-I-" "Cum," he groans into your pussy. His eyes bore into yours. "Cum for me, Y/N. Let me drink from you." Your head falls back at the whirlwind that runs through your body. Your muscles are taut, almost painfully so. You can't even breathe as the climax washes over you with full force. Your fingers find their way into his curls. You tug on the blonde strands, and Hvitserk moans. He wants you to use him for your own pleasure. He wants you to find pleasure in him, not just in the bed but everywhere else too. After years of silently watching you and craving your body with equal need with your laugh and pretty smile, he is ready for everything. He is ready to accept everything you want to give him.
When you win back your consciousness, Hvitserk is still between your legs, resting his head on your thigh with a cheeky grin on his lips. His lips glint with your wetness. "Hey." Heat creeps up on your face. "Hi." "I will pick you up at seven tomorrow," he suddenly says, standing up from his kneeling position. A quick kiss on your lips reminds you of what happened a few minutes ago. "What?" You gasp. "Hvitserk... what?" You watch his receding form as he makes his way to the entrance door of your home. "I thought..." You point at your room with your thumb. The confusion is clear on your face. When he looks back from the door, he can't help but stop for a second. You are so goddamn beautiful. Your hair is a mess, your eyes still shine with the remains of your climax, and your lips are swollen and red from his kisses. He really needs his every self-control not to turn back and take you to your room for more. "Nope," he says, popping the p. "Date first. Tomorrow. At seven." "But..." "It was just a taste, Y/N, because I couldn't help myself." And with that, he closes the door, leaving you alone with shaking legs and a dizzy mind.
Oh, gods!
129 notes · View notes
bjornswoman · 9 months
Text
My prisoner
Tumblr media
Requested by none.
Author's note: Hello! I've been away for a while and I'm sorry about it. I wanted to come back with a fic about Bjorn, but this one was something that I was thinking for a while and I decided that this one will come out first. I want to believe that vikings fandom are still active. Anyway, till next time have fun and take care.
Pairing: Modern!Hvitserk x Reader.
Genre: Modern!au, drama, romance, fluff.
Summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks free from prison.
Warnings: Drama, mentions of prison break, mentions of death.
Life had never been easy for you.
When you thought that things started getting better, something really bad happened and you were back to zero.
Life had shown you its worst face so far.
You had lost your parents at young age. You were struggling all alone, dealing with two awful jobs and an ex that was more pain in the ass than all the bills you had to pay at the end of each month.
Your life became much more difficult when you decided to get involved with the most infamous family of the city — the Lothbroks. These men — the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, a mobster — they run a dangerous gang the one their father had founded. You couldn't even want to think about all the illegal stuff they were doing and the police was after them.
The bad thing in that was that the police had you under their microscope, as well, because you were Hvitserk Lothbrok's girlfriend — ex girlfriend.
And things became even worse than before when they put him in jail, after your break-up, and he decided with the help of his family to break free.
The police was following each movement of yours. They were tracking your phone number, listening to all your phone calls, expecting to learn about your ex. They had even someone outside your apartment to watch you over.
You told them over and over again that you had nothing to do with that filthy man anymore, but they wouldn't believe in you.
You let a long breath leave your lungs as you were cleaning the bar counter.
"What is it again?" One of your coworkers asked. Well, Hope was more than a coworker, she was your friend.
The only one you could talk to and not raise any suspicions. You were friends with Torvi — the wife of Ubbe Lothbrok — and Gunnhild — the wife of Bjorn Lothbrok — but you couldn't see them, it was too risky to get in touch with any member of the family. Of course, the police kept a close eye on them, but still you couldn't have any kind of communication with any of the family.
"It's the usual problem with... him." You said as you were placing the clean glasses on their place behind the counter.
"The police is following me around like I'm some kind of a bloody criminal because I made the mistake to start a relationship with a mobster." You spoke angrily and threw the towel on the counter. You were so angry, so frustrated with all this mess. Your hands run through your hair.
"I know that this is difficult for you, but it is going to end, sweetheart. It will end when they get this son of a bitch back where he belongs — in prison." She said wih an encouraging smile on her face and her hand rubbed your back friendly.
Only those words weren't encouraging for you. Deep in your heart you didn't want him to get caught and sent back inside there again. It hurt you to think that the man you loved were inside a called cell.
It was true that he wasn't the best guy in the world, not even close to that. Hvitserk had done some bad things that he wasn't proud of and he had regretted of doing. He had a good heart and wanted to be better.
You forced something that was the resemblance of a smile on your face and followed her to the kitchen to get the orders and walk them to the costumers.
"Did he try to contact you after you know?" Hope asked you suddenly and you nodded your head as an answer — no he didn't and it quite hurt you. But you had broken up before he got in.
"At least, he didn't dare to after all he did."
You frowned when you heard the tone of her voice. Hvitserk had never hurt you. In fact, the reason he broke up with you was because he didn't want to involve you in his mess, in the shit he was deep into, but it was late for that.
"He didn't harm me." You muttered when you got back with an epty tray in your hands.
Hope rolled her eyes and continued to place the drinks on her tray. When she finished, she turned her eyes on you.
"But he harmed other people. He is a criminal. Prison is where he belongs." Those where her words before she waltzed through the tables with her tray in hands.
Her words were harsh for a man she didn't know at all. Yeah, Hvitserk did awful things, but he wasn't just that. You had seen the good side of his. You had seen the little broken child in him. The one who felt full when you showed him your love and affection. The one who tried to shield your heart even from him.
The rest of your shift went by as usual. There weren't many clients as a typical Wednesday night. But things changed when you got that damned phone call.
It was a couple of times before the closing time when Torvi called. You didn't expect her to, you didn't expect anyone from the family to reach for you. When you saw her name on the screen, you used the back door to get out and answered her call.
"Torvi?" The tone of your trembling voice gave away easily to level of your concern about Hvitserk. Torvi wouldn't call if something bad did not happen. Something had happened. Something that you wouldn't like to hear.
"What happened? You know that it's not safe to speak through the phone." Your body was pressed on the wall next to the door and your hand was clenching the phone.
"Something came up which we don't know whether it stands or not, but I had to inform you because Ubbe said that they are 80% sure that it's true." You felt the despair and sadness in the tone of her voice as well as you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.
Hvitserk — your mind screamed but your tongue didn't. You waited to hear more before you even try to fight back your emotions.
"Tell me for the love of Gods! What happened?" You were almost crying now.
Torvi took a deep breath before her next words.
"They found a body — a body in a really awful state. It's unrecognizable. At the time were are talking they are in a lab waiting for the results of the DNA analysis. But, Ubbe said that they are almost sure that the body belongs to Hvitserk. He didn't contact the brothers after the escape, they thought he was hiding and would eventually come out, but he didn't."
You couldn't hear the most of it. You collapsed on the floor halfway and closed your eyes forcefully in an attempt to fight the waterfalls of tears to fall. Your free hand moved on your face and it touched your forehead.
You stopped hearing. You were crying. He couldn't be dead. Hvitserk couldn't die. Not like this.
"They killed him and threw his body in a ditch in a middle of nowhere. The people who killed him are the same who framed him with this murder he didn't commit." She continued, but you couldn't hear anymore. Your brain couldn't process all these. You couldn't process the fact that Hvitserk was dead.
"Hvitserk..." You muttered his name like it was a prayer between your sobs.
"I know it hurts but you—"
You didn't let her finish. You ended the damned call and let your phone fall from your hands. You hid your face in your palms and let yourself cry and mourn the love of your life — the only person you were able to love this much and loved you back in his own different way.
After some time, you gathered your broken heart and the pieces of your body and got in. You wiped your tears and cleaned your face with some fresh water. You had to stay strong for a couple of times and then you could cry all your wanted.
At the closing, you took out the trash in an attempt to cry to yourself for a bit in the darkness where no one could see your tears for the man you loved the most. You were so sad and shattered that you didn't notice a black figure approaching you.
You only noticed when one of his hands was on your mouth and the pushed you in a dark corner. You eyes opened widely and your heart beat went faster until you saw the face of your captor.
He let you see his face. He took his hood off and got rid of the black scarf which was covering his mouth and nose. When you could finally see him, he freed your mouth and you gasped.
"You!" You whispered out of breath. Your hand run on his features that you missed so much. The last time you could saw him in person was many months ago, almost a month before he got arrested.
"Shh!" His index finger was on your lips.
"Don't shush me! I thought you were fucking dead! Torvi called an—" All your whisper-yelling stopped when his lips fell violently on yours. The very thing he did every time he wanted to get away feom scolding. But this time you weren't going to get mad or stop him, until not as long as you could breathe.
His skilled lips were moving just perfect on yours and the facial hair he had were just perfect. His hands grabbed you by the waist and you placed your own hands around his neck. Your body was pressed on the wall by his own.
This kiss felt like salvation. It was like you were whole again. It felt like you could breathe even if you didn't. You didn't want it to stop, but it had. After all, you two had many things to discuss.
Much to your displeasure, it stopped because of the lack of air to your lungs. His hands left your waist and moved on your face where he caressed your cheeks softly.
But that loving moment didn't last long, before he noticed, your hand collided with his cheek violently and his head turned at the side.
"Was that necessary? Why did you do it?" Hvitserk whisper-yelled. His palm was on his hurting cheek that had your mark on it, along with the mark of your nails.
"You scared me to fucking death with your bloody lies. Plus, you were a total dick to me when I called you in jail." You spoke and gazed at him. You had missed him terribly.
"Hey!" With that Hvitserk grabbed your face between his hands. Your faces were dangerously close for once more. "I told you, you shouldn't have called me there. As for my little lie, it was my only chance to see you." You spoke and left a soft kiss on your forehead.
"And how would that be? The police is out there waiting for a stupid movement of yours — exactly like this one — to get you. They are after me — following every step of mine. You shouldn't be here." You told him and tried to leave him in the darkness. You didn't want him to get caught because of you.
Hvitserk didn't let slip from his hands. His strong grip held there in from of him.
"It's dangerous, Hvitserk." You whispered at him.
Hvitserk smirked and one of his hands placed a strand of hair behind your ear.
"See that was exactly my plan with all this dead body lie. Indeed, there was a body, but not mine — obviously — and we used it to mislead them. They will try to find the body and they won't pay attention to you. At least, not as much as they did." He explained and you smiled.
"Ivar's plan?" You asked all smiling and he smiled back.
"Like you don't know the answer to that."
After that, you stayed there gazing at each other, having only the stars witnessing this moment between you.
"Why did you break my heart?" You asked as your eyes were only on his. You wanted to hear the truth coming out of his mouth.
His green eyes were glowing under the lights of the stars.
"I – I don't deserve you. You are kind and sweet and so angelic and I am the exact opposite. I am so filthy that I'll defile your purity. I've done things that I'm not proud about — bad things."
"Then why are you here now?"
Your question made him think about it himself once more. His eyes were looking only deep inside yours. You could feel his pain when he talked about the stuff he did, you could feel everying through those eyes. It hurt you to think that he felt this way for himself.
"Behind the bars, in that cell, the only thing you can do is thinking. You're thinking about all the right and wrong decisions of your life till the moment you got in — especially the wrong ones keep you up all night. And what kept me up was you. The thought of never seeing you again, never hearing your voice, you laugh, your scolding. I just couldn't live knowing that I hurt you. I love you. My life without you is meaningless."
"Just never push me away again, okay?" You spoke as your hand wiped a couple tears away from your eyes. Hvitserk help you and when there weren't any more tears in your eyes, he caressed your skin softly.
"I love you, you idiot." You muttered and kissed him again. This kiss was so much different from the previous one. It soft and loving.
"The plan is to never let you slip away from me ever again." He spoke as he was caressing your hair.
"And how is that supposed to happen?"
"We will leave together here and now."
You frowned. You weren't expecting him to say something like this. You pushed him back, so you could face him.
"Wait... You want us to leave everything behind — our lives — and run away. This – this is....." You couldn't form a proper sentence. You were to process his proposition.
Kattegat was everything you knew — the place you called home. Everyone you knew was here and by that you meant your friends and some very distant relatives. Apart from your life, his life was in this place. His family, his job.
"(Y/N), there's nothing for us here. If I stay, I'll go to prison and I won't be able to hold you ever again. I will leave at the end of the day, there is no future for me in this city." Both of your hearts were beating fast at the thought that you would never see each other again after this night.
It was true that there was nothing here for you, only these two jobs that you hated. You couldn't know what future had in store for you, but if you let Hvitserk leave alone, you would hate yourself for the rest of your life.
Hvitserk's hand grabbed yours and closed it in both of his palms, but before that his finger gripped your chin and moved your head in such position that you could look at each other.
"The clock is ticking — the time is running fast. You have to give me your answer now. Are you coming with me right now?"
His eyes were begging you to say yes.
His heart was begging you to say yes.
But your mind was the problem. Your mind was hesitating to follow him wherever he was going to take you.
You closed your eyes for a moment. You couldn't choose between your heart and your mind. A whole war had broke inside you.
"(Y/N)?"
At the sound of your name on his lips you opened your eyes.
"I will come wherever you are willing to go. I can't live without you, my love." You told him and hugged him tightly.
Hvitserk wrapped his hand with yours and pulled you close to him.
"Are you sure? If we leave now — together — there's no coming back. We will be both fugitives." He told you smirking.
You chuckled when you heard him.
"That's a risk I'd love to take for you."
With those last words Hvitserk and you run away from the police and the city forever.
193 notes · View notes
jadelynlace · 4 months
Text
A Slice of Lime, Please⎮Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]⎮Deleted Scene
read more Ink Drinker here
Author's Note: With the general time line of this blurb, and the video I saw earlier, I've concocted this piece. And trust me, I was grinning like an idiot the whole day at the station as I kept going back to this. This is a much lighter piece over the angst of the next blurb coming. I said what I said.
Tumblr media
It’s sweaty bodies, music a bit too loud for your liking, and the general wave of the patterns voices as eye swatch the game on the screen. They pull out quietly, only to round up their decibels a moment later. You agreed to the night out when you were in much better spirits and now you’re following through with it all and you hate it. 
These are the moments you loathe—being out with nothing to show for the fact that you and Ivar are together. Except, you’re not. To keep the bubbling beast of Ivar’s anxiety at bay, but you would go to the ends of the earth if you thought it would help him.
Sometimes, you wonder if anyone knows; every so often you catch Hvitserk looking at you for a second more than what seems appropriate. And rather than question it, you let him sit in his own unease with whatever it is he’s searching for. Right now, it’s his expression as he watches you, watch another woman offering to buy Ivar a shot. 
You watch this woman undress him with her eyes, pulling the black tee from where it’s tucked to reveal the ink on his chest, the muscles you traced your nails over that morning. How she brings her pupils up and down and wonders if his size matches with what she’s looking at. You have half a mind to tell her that it does. You wonder if she wants to know about his interest, his quirks, or if she just wants to look at him. Instead, you look back at Hvitserk and raise your brows; if you’re going to have a feeling, it better be towards something you can handle.
“What?” You ask Hvitserk and he shakes his head. 
“Nothing, nothing,” He lies and you narrow your eyes.
“Hvitty?” You then ask. “Hvitserk,” You demand.
“Y/N, it’s nothing,” He then tells you and you can see he’s starting to dig the hole.
“You’ve been doing that for the last week,” You grumble.
“It’s just…” Hvitserk starts.
“Yeah, a slice of lime, please,” You hear Ivar say to the bar tender.
“On the rig check yesterday…” Hvitserk starts.
“Hey, brother,” Ivar snaps his fingers behind him, “No work talk. No firefighter stuff,” And Ivar turns back around.
“I’m trying to tell something to my partner,” Hvitserk says, placing a very careful emphasis on how he speaks. 
“Are you having a stroke?” Ivar tries.
The woman follows, two shots, two lime slices, and she hands Ivar’s respective parts to him. 
“No, I’m not,” Hvitserk snaps.
“Well, you’re about to,” Ivar says and he takes the lime slice—and much more quickly than you anticipate from his large hands—shoves the rind between your lips. Without a word to the other woman he tosses the shot back, his neck snapping backwards before his hands reach to your cheeks as he pulls you forward, sucking the lime from between your lips.
You feel your heart stop, your body moves with how Ivar dictates, and Hvitserk doesn’t miss the way you close your eyes, or the way both yours, and Ivar’s beings deflate. He tries so very hard to hide the smile that comes over his lips and he fails. But, he doesn’t quite care.
The moment you feel Ivar slowly pulls back, your eyes open quickly, widely as they watch his slowly open. 
“Oops,” He tries, “Must have mixed you two up…” He says so that only you can hear it, bastardly smirk on his lips. “Is she still there?” Ivar adds, louder.
“Nope,” Hvitserk states. “And for the record, Ivar, cardiac arrest is the correct medical term. That wouldn’t cause a stroke,”
“It wouldn’t?” Ivar tries, “Oh, I guess that’s why you majored in para-medicine and I majored in mathematics,”
You spit the lime out into your hand and hand it to Ivar, who only offers you a wink.
“Can’t be surprised by what you already know,” Hvitserk sings. 
Tags:
@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @angelofthenightposts @unbetaedimagines @readsalot73 @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @prettyinpayne @quantumlocked310 @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @fatedwithmbc @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @kataphine @prepare4trouble @abbiii72 @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @93xdiagonxalley @ivarisms @nordicshieldmadien @ironynoticony  @ivarsgard @cosmicmerbabe @smears-and-spots @kaybee87 @t4medicroe @noway4u @southernbe @anakindoesntlikesand @mymindfuckery @noonespecial90 @hypocrtic-trash-baby
*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*
full masterlist can be found here.
23 notes · View notes
ritual-unions · 9 months
Text
Distractions
Tumblr media
Modern!Hvitserk x OFC 
Prompt: Role | Obedient, Bratty, Dominant for @vikingsevents #smuttyvikings
Summary: Hvitserk has to punish his girl when she shows up to his mother's annual garden party, the one day he asked her to behave, in a dress he has deemed too short.
warnings: nsfw, mentions of blow job
If she hadn’t worn that damned sundress he wouldn’t be this upset but she had to tempt, and at his mother’s annual garden party no less. 
“No distractions today,” Hvitserk mumbled, head rolling back as she flounced up to him. She tapped the side of her hip with his. His hand crept around her waist and it took everything in him not to travel further south. Her ass was so grab-able today. The stretchy material of her dress barely grazed her thighs. There was no way she was going to be able to sit down for tea with his mother and her friends and not show off her panties. 
Did she have panties on?
“I couldn’t help myself,” she replied cheerfully, ignorant of the way Ubbe and Sigurd watched on with wide owl-like gazes, unblinking and silent. “I feel like I need to get bent over and -” 
Hvitserk’s hand covered her mouth before she could finish. He could not hear those words come out of her mouth, he would get hard right here, in his mother’s garden. Sigurd laughed loudly causing a few of the guests to look their way. Ubbe rolled his eyes, pushing into Sigurd, motioning to him that they were leaving. 
Nothing says fuck me like a sundress, she had said to him not a week earlier as she tried on said dress. It was black with small yellow sunflowers printed across the stretchy material. He would have fucked her in the dressing room that moment if he thought she could be quiet enough. 
She could not. She had never been quiet when it came to fucking. 
He dropped his hand when he got a sidelong glance from his mother as she passed by and then disappeared behind her prized rose bush with a friend attached to her arm. 
“Come,” he tugged on his girlfriend’s arm. 
“Gladly,” she beamed, following into the main house and up the stairs where he knew they would not be disturbed. 
He locked the door behind him, just to make certain no one walked in, when he turned around she was already bent over the bathroom counter, naked ass presented to him, as she stared at his reflection in the mirror. 
A smile touched his mouth at her naïveté. There was no way she getting fucked today, not after her distracting behavior on the one day he had asked her to behavior herself. 
“No,” he said and laughed lightly when a frown formed on her face. He reached out, unable to help himself, grabbing the fullness of her ass with one hand as the other reached for the button of his slacks. “Get on your knees.” 
The look of disbelief paled her features. She almost looked embarrassed to be commanded in such a way but Hvitserk knew she was not as easily shamed as she was playing at. Her favorite place to fuck was in the car or the bathroom of the downtown club they liked to frequent. 
“Show me what you’re capable of,” he nodded to her in the mirror, tugging at her fleshy behind before moving between her thighs where he palmed her wet vulva lips. “You know you want to.” 
She nodded her head, adjusting her dress as she turned to face him, her gaze caught on his collar bones before she slowly slid to her knees. 
“That’s my good girl,” he said, fingers carding through her hair as he wrapped her thick locks around his wrist. He would need leverage as she made up for her bratty behavior. 
27 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
97 notes · View notes
istorkyou · 2 years
Text
A Thousand Battles (Modern!Ivar AU)
Tumblr media
A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)
Warnings - Language. Hospital setting. Description of medical procedures (non gory!)
Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?
Word Count - 4534
This is for @blackseapearl 400 follower trope challenge. I asked for Amnesia :)
Shout Outs - A massive shout out to @blackseapearl and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for beta reading, ironing out all the mistakes and the motivation to keep going with it. Special hugs to @blackseapearl for talking through the ending with me and giving me some much needed inspiration and the wonderful moodboard.
This fic kicked (and is still kicking!) my ass, I’ve never had such a hard time with motivation as I have writing this long-ass bitch so I hope you enjoy it :)
It’s also LOOOOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG..... and I’m only the tiniest bit sorry about that!
Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls​​ @youbloodymadgenius​​ @momowhoo​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer​ @pieces-by-me​ @heavenly1927​​ @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint​​ @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy​ @petite-hime​​ @serasvictoria​​ @mimiiinspace​​ @itsmysticalmystery​​ @lonewolf471​​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​​ @draculasbride-blog​​ @love-all-things-writing​​ @southernbe​​ @redhead7799​​ @kaybee87​​ @ivarlover​​ @ivarhoegh​​ @idgafiamallthefandoms​​ @darkphoenix5037​​ @profoundtyrantharmony​​ @snarling-through-our-smiles​​ @crazyunsexycool​​ @xceafh​​ @bragisrunes​​@noway4u @batmandallyboy​​ @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73​​​​ @meandmycherrytree
Chapter 1
She shields her eyes from the sun, much too bright without her sunglasses. She is standing on a white sand beach, the crystal clear waters lapping the shore. She steps into the water until it laps against her knees and then looks down. Hundreds of fish swim around her legs, the brightest hues she’s ever seen, almost luminous as the sun reflects off their scales. A giant tortoise swims past her legs and she reaches down to touch its cold, bumpy shell as it passes by.
Something occurs to her: the water is neither hot nor cold, it is the exact temperature of her skin and she can barely feel it. She looks up and down the beach and it stretches as far as the eye can see although there is not another soul in sight. Listening closely, she realises she doesn’t hear the normal sounds you would expect on the beach: the sound of the waves crashing, the sounds of the gulls squawking. All she hears is a very faint beep, and she has to strain her ears to even catch that. 
She starts to panic, her breath becomes shallow and a rush of cold covers her skin as if she's been dropped into an ice bath. Where is she? Something is wrong. This place is unnerving. She can hear the beeping getting louder as the waves get larger in the silent ocean. She stumbles backwards into the soft sand, neither cold nor hot.
She feels something brush against her hand and jerks away quickly looking over her shoulder to see what touched her. A man stands behind her, a stranger, yet the look on his face suggests he knows her. She tries to step away but he reaches for her hand again. 
“Liet. Wake up, please. Wake up,” he is pleading with her, face carved with anguish. “You have to come back to me, Liet.”
She focuses on a necklace around his neck, a thick silver chain with a flat circle pendant hanging from it. 
“Liet?” 
She shakes her head and looks around the beach again which is now filled with people and the noise you would expect at a busy beach fills her ears. The sounds of talking, shouting, and beeping are becoming unbearable. The panic that started earlier has turned into fear, she can feel her face and chest flush and the urge to scream is overwhelming and as she looks back at the man, his eyes have turned the bluest of blue, bleeding into the whites and his face has changed. His face is tipped down but he is staring up at her with brows pulled close and a menacing smile on his face. 
“They know, Liet. They all know,” his voice doesn’t match his face, it’s high and almost friendly, which only makes it even more sinister and scary. “We all know, Liet.” He lunges for her, hands grabbing for her neck and as she screams and scrambles to get away she trips backwards and everything goes black.
Everything is dark.
Everything hurts.
The beeping is so, so loud. 
She is lying somewhere. Where is she? She can feel warmth in her left hand. Her body feels broken. Breathing hurts, every breath takes effort, as if there is an invisible weight pressing down on her, restricting her lungs. Her head feels too big. The warmth in her hand is strange and she tries to move it away but all she manages is a twitch and the feeling of warmth leaves her skin. 
“Julietta?” asks a voice in the room. The feeling of warmth is back on her hand and now it has a force, gripping her tightly. 
She opens one eye. She isn’t sure why the other won’t open yet. She can make out shadows in the room. But the overwhelming pain she is feeling at the light streaming in from the window forces her eye closed immediately.
“Did she just open her left eye? Did she? Get the doctor. Now!” 
The hand is still squeezing, gentler now. 
“Julietta, open your eyes.” She can hear excitement in the male voice.
She starts to try again but the light is too much. 
“Shut the blinds, it’s too bright for her. Quickly, Godsdammit!” The same voice commands then softens again. “Try again, my love.Try again.”
She opens it slowly and it’s much better now it’s darker. It gives her pupil time to adjust slowly and the shadows turn into people. She tries to move her head but she has something around her neck stopping her so she focuses on what she can see in the left side of the room. A window, three chairs lined up along the wall, two occupied. A chair next to the bed is occupied as well. She manages to focus on the person closest to her. A man holding her hand tightly in both of his, great concern all over his face. He looks familiar, but only vaguely. She doesn’t know why he’s now crying as he watches her open eye. 
“Julietta!” The relief in his voice is palpable and he drops his head down to kiss her hand over and over again. “Thank all the Gods. My love!”
There is a flurry of movement and the man at her bedside is ushered away to the other seats where he is greeted with embraces from two other men. 
The doctor and nurses go about the observations before she closes her eye again. 
—-----------------------
“What is happening?! Why is she not awake anymore?”
“Mr. Lothbrok, her vitals look stable. Please don’t worry, she’s not in a coma any longer, but she will need a significant amount of rest. You should go home, we will call you when she wakes up again.”
“I’m not going anywhere! What a ridiculous suggestion,” Ivar yells dismissively.
“Ivar, she will be asleep for hours yet. Let me at least take you home so you can shower and eat. You haven’t left this room in eight days.” 
“Hvitserk, I will leave this room when she’s well enough to leave it with me.”
“Okay, Brother,” Hvitserk's voice is full of concern. “I’ll bring you anything you need.”
Ivar walks to the side of her bed again and takes up the spot he has been rooted to for over a week. He looks over her face, right eye still swollen shut, right arm in a cast for the breaks and the skin that is visible is still an angry purple in places, in others the purple is fading around the edges to a muddy green and he imagines the rest of the skin he can’t see is in a similar state. Her skin has been sewn back together around her shoulder, by the best plastic surgeon in the country, but there will always be a physical reminder of what happened to her. 
His beautiful Liet.
Ivar’s jaw clenches in anger. He knows she has a long way to go before she is healed fully, but now she is out of immediate danger and his thoughts at once turn to revenge and retribution. The people responsible will pay with their lives. 
As he is allowing the volcano of rage to bubble inside of his chest, threatening to spill out into the world at any second, he catches her eye, open again and she studies him. He leans into her, all rage extinguished for now. 
“My love, you’re awake.” He holds her hand and runs his own hand up her arm slowly, taking care not to hurt her. 
“...am I?” she asks. Her throat must be so dry as her voice doesn’t sound like her own, scratchy and croaky and underused. Probably raw from intubation. 
Ivar smiles at her, the relief at hearing her voice is overwhelming and his tears fall onto her hand as he bends down to kiss it again. 
“Hospital. There was an… accident. You’re okay though. Broken bones and a bad head injury but you'll be okay, my love. I promise.” He smiles and lets out a relieved laugh and kisses her hand and arm.
Julietta watches him as he peppers her skin with love. “Who are you?” she asks quietly. 
His face contorts into confusion, brows pulled close together, before he laughs lightly. 
“Very funny, love. I’m the King of England and you are my Queen!” He laughs again until he looks at her face, and even through the bruising, the swelling, the cuts, he can see she isn’t joking. The left eye that is open is scared, her pupil is dilated in fear. He watches her chest as it is rising quicker than before and the steady beeping starts to quicken. “Julietta. It’s me, Ivar. It’s ok. Don’t worry, it’s just me.” He grabs her hand quickly and she jerks away. 
There are waves of fear rolling off of her, now. He can see it, he can feel it. Ivar stands up slowly and walks to the door, his demeanour is different to how he interacts with her. Nothing soft, just a menacing aura that has the nurse's shoulders rise in fear when they see him, all avoiding eye contact and keeping the widest berth possible.
“Doctor. Immediately. She doesn’t know who I am.”
The doctor is in the room within a couple of minutes, shining a light into her eye. “Do you know your name? What year is it?”
She looks at the stranger in the room who called himself Ivar. 
“Julietta Manresa. I.. I’m not sure.”
“Lothbrok, love. Julietta Lothbrok. We’ve been married for six months,” Ivar interjects before the doctor turns to him and gives him a look of reproach and a tiny shake of his head.
“Well done, Julietta. Tell me what’s wrong.”
—------------------------
She swallows thickly and winces at the feeling. The man called Ivar hands a drink with a straw to the doctor who lets her take a sip.
“I don’t know him. Or anything about me apart from my name. I don’t know my parents' names. I don’t know why I’m here, what happened to me.” She starts to breathe deeper, too deep. 
“Julietta, I know this is confusing but please try to keep calm. I can assure you this is a fairly common side effect for the type of head trauma you have suffered. It’s called Post Traumatic Amnesia.”
How can she calm down? She’s woken up in a hospital bed surrounded by strangers. One claiming to be her husband. She starts to feel light headed and nauseous. She tried to move but it’s almost impossible with the thing on her neck, her arm in a cast, leg in a splint. 
“I don’t know you. You aren’t my husband. I’ve never seen you before,” her voice is rising to as much of a shout as her sore vocal chords will allow. 
The doctor leaves the room quickly.
Ivar steps to the bed and sits down. He doesn’t reach for her hand. “I promise you. You are my wife. Don’t worry about that now, it will come back to you. I love you so much.”
The doctor comes back into the room and starts to inject something into the IV port in her hand. 
“What the fuck is that? Tell me before you give her anything. I’ve told you time and time again,” Ivar’s voice is different again. Low, calm, as intimidating as anything she has ever heard. 
“Mr. Lothbrok, she needs rest. I’ve administered a sedative. She has significant brain swelling. This will help her rest and heal.”
She starts to feel woozy, the IV site has gone cold as whatever the doctor administers travels up her vein. “I’m scared,” she whispers as her eyes focus on a silver chain and pendant around Ivar’s neck; it somehow feels like home. She tried to reach for it but the drugs are making her limbs heavier by the second. 
Ivar takes her hand and brings it up to his mouth to kiss again. “I am here. I will be here when you wake up. Don’t be frightened, we will get through this. My beautiful Liet.”
Julietta hears the last part, the nickname he uses and it permeates a part of her consciousness, seeps into her synapses, making them fire, she’s heard it before. There’s a faint recognition there. She urges her brain to make the connections she desperately needs to piece together her life, but she slips under sedation before anything tangible forms in her brain. 
—————————
As her eyes flutter shut, Ivar's face hardens. “Don’t ever give my wife drugs I have not approved. I want to know everything she is given. I will break your legs if you disobey me again. Am I being understood?” 
—————————
The doctor looks into the eyes of Ivar, blue as the arctic ocean and twice as cold. He knows who Ivar Lothbrok is, what he does, who his family are. His reputation more than precedes him. He is someone not to cross, and even though the doctor has a duty of care primarily to his patients, and in this situation he would usually tell the family member to jump, he isn’t a fool. 
“Of course. If you are not here and there is an emergency how should I proceed?” 
“I am not leaving her side. So that will not be a problem,” Ivar advises him. “Don’t be facetious with me. I know you were asking my brother about the guards outside her room. They are staying until she leaves.” Ivar slowly walks towards the doctor who backs up, almost tripping backwards over the IV stand. “Do not question my actions again. My patience has all but disappeared due to this whole situation and I am not known to be a patient man at the best of times. I want to know when you are off shift so I can tell the other doctors the same as I have told you.” The doctor nods quickly.
He turns away and walks back to take up his spot next to his wife. “How long will she be asleep?” 
The doctor clears his throat. “At least twelve hours,” he says with a shake in his voice, nerves clear. 
Ivar doesn’t take his eyes off her face. “Thank you for saving her life.” 
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Julietta swings from consciousness to dreams for weeks, the fabric of reality stretched thin in her head, so much so that most of the time she isn’t sure if she is awake or asleep. What she does know is that when she is present in the hospital room, real or in her head, Ivar is there, at her side, talking to her gently, telling her stories she can’t recall.
Oftentimes she is back on the beach. This she knows is not her consciousness. It’s bathed in moonlight now, a blue and silver light reflecting off of the silent, black ocean. She doesn’t enter the water this time, too apprehensive in the dark. She looks up and down again and sees only a tiny beach hut illuminated by a soft yellow glow. She walks to it and can’t hear muffled talking. Heated talking. She doesn’t knock on the door, she pushes it open to find Ivar standing in front of a man she’s never seen before. The stranger has black hair shaved close to his scalp, deep olive skin and black stubble over his handsome face. He has a scar running through his right eyebrow. They stop talking and both look at her silently. 
She sees love on both their faces. 
The stranger stands up, taking a step past Ivar towards her. “Etta, where are you? I miss you.” He asks in Russian.
Ivar moves between them giving the stranger a look of displeasure. His face softens when he looks back to her. “Liet, who is this?” He cups her face and kisses her softly. “Who is he, love?” 
She shakes her head in confusion, looking past Ivar to the stranger who has recoiled at the scene in front of him. “I…I don’t know, Ivar. I don’t know who he is.”
A laugh of disbelief leaves the stranger. “Etta? It’s me.”
“I don’t know who you are,” she replies.
“Let’s go, Liet,” Ivar weaves his arm over her shoulder and looks back over his to the man. “You are not important.”
As she allows Ivar to lead her out of the hut and back out into the night, everything goes black again. The damn beeping has returned too, she notices.
Beep.
Beep.
Her eyes open. Both this time. She feels less sore than the last time she woke up from the beach. She is able to move her neck now and can see to the right for the first time. A bed is next to her, pushed up so close they are touching and Ivar is asleep next to her on it. Her head feels like a normal size now and she shifts her head on the pillow to stare at him. His hand is on her arm, his short hair is shaved in the sides but it needs cutting, making her wonder how long she’s been in the hospital, with him by her side. He has stubble over his face and she can see the thick purple lines under his eyes, he looks exhausted. 
She studies him for a long time, trying to remember anything she can, but nothing comes. Nothing at all. The only memories of him are from when she came out of the coma. She tries to recall other aspects of her life. Friends, family, the name of her schools, any pets she’s had, what food she likes. 
Nothing. 
It’s like shouting into a bottomless chasm: nothing but the echo of the questions asked coming back to her. Like trying to enter an impenetrable castle, banging on the door and being ignored. 
Nothing.
Who am I? I have not one memory of my life. Not one. Am I even real? If I don't have any memories, do I even really exist? Have I ever existed? Am I dead? Is this purgatory?
She starts to panic again and she turns to the only person in the world who has been here for her for this whole ordeal. 
“Ivar... Ivar,” she whispers quietly. She needs something, she needs comfort and she only has one source of that it seems. This stranger who says he is her husband. “Ivar.” She repeats and his eyes fly open.
“Julietta! You’re awake. Do you remember me? Let me fetch the doctor.”
Her panic rises, the thought of being left completely alone in the world terrifies her so she grips his arm tightly. “NO! Don’t leave me. Please. I don’t remember you, I'm sorry.” She starts to cry. “Ivar, am I dead?”
Ivar’s face crumples at her words and he slides close to her, as close as he can without disturbing the tangle of wires attached to her. As he slides his arm over her waist he kisses her on the cheek and wipes her falling tears, then does the same to his own. 
“You're not dead, my love. You are very much alive, you are the strongest woman I’ve ever met. A fighter, my best shield maiden. Odin’s own Valkyrie. We will get through this together.” 
His presence calms her fears, makes her breaths come easier, slows her racing heart. 
“Who am I?”
Ivar sniffs and rubs his nose on his sleeve. “I think we should talk to the doctor first before I start telling you things. I don’t want to overwhelm you. Just know that you are Julietta Lothbrok, we have been married for six months now and we’ve been together for three years. Look,” he reaches for a framed photo on the cabinet next to his bed, “this is one of our wedding photos,” he says, holding it in front of her face. 
It is them, on their wedding day. She is in a beautifully elegant, lace dress with gold detailing and he is in a navy suit. They are holding hands and looking at each other with massive smiles on their faces. 
“See, baby. It’s us,” Ivar says, so proudly. 
Julietta notices Ivar is holding a walking stick and he has something wrapped around each leg. She reaches her left hand up to touch the picture, running her finger over his legs. “You had an accident as well?” She glanced down at his legs, no braces now. 
He laughs lightly at her. “No accident, love. Bone disease. My braces are over there.” He gestures to the side of the bed. 
“We looked happy.” She glances at him shyly, catching his eyes and noticing how blue they are. 
“We are happy,” he replies with a wide smile. “I’m going to get the doctor, okay? I will be right back, I promise.” 
———————-
More time passes in the hospital. She isn’t sure how much time, she just knows she is healing more and more, but only physically. Her memory is still non-existent. She has asked Ivar many questions over her time here, questions about herself and her accident but he is always vague or evades the questions completely, saying it’s doctors orders not to overload her with information in her unstable condition. 
He still hasn’t left her side. He gets food delivered to the room, by an app on his phone or by one of his four brothers, mainly one called Hvitserk who, despite being told by Ivar not to, only refers to her as “sister” and insists on hugging her every time he comes into her room. She is getting used to it now, even though at first she didn’t like it one bit; it felt overly familiar and intrusive. 
Another brother, Ubbe, brings work for Ivar to sign. He often comes into the hospital room, gives her a quick smile and whisks Ivar into the hall where they have heated yet hushed discussions. She watches Ivar intently during these discussions, his face is always angry, aggressive and his body language mirrors this. 
After one such visit from Ubbe, Ivar returns to the room more agitated than usual. 
“Ivar. What do you do for work? You seem… different when you are speaking with others,” she questions tentatively.
His head whips to her so fast that it makes her jump, his expression one that she’s never seen directed at her before. She shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. His face softens. “Julietta , I don’t think that is a topic we should discuss first. How about something less complicated? About you?”
Julietta nods quickly. “How long have I been here?”
“We are in the fifth week now. You were in a coma for over a week and spent another few in and out of sedation until the swelling on your brain went down. There has been talk that I will be able to take you home soon,” he says with a hope filled voice.
She gives him a small smile. “Don’t I have parents? No one has visited me.” She is dreading the answer but deep down, a part of her already knows. 
Ivar tips his head to the side slightly and grimaces almost imperceptibly, but she catches it. “My love, your parents died ten years ago in a car crash. I’m so sorry to have to tell you that.” He walks to the bed and she shifts over, allowing him room to lay next to her, both on their sides facing each other. They have been doing this over the last few days. She can see how much being close to her means to him, a physical need he has, and by the way it calms her own body, she figures she needs physical comfort as well. 
“I think some part of me knew that,” she tells him with a little shrug. “We don’t have children?” 
“No, love.”
“What happened to me, Ivar? Please tell me. I can handle it.”
He stares at her for a while and takes a massive breath in, closing his eyes. “You were hit by a car. It swerved onto the pavement and hit you when you were leaving the gym. It was a hit and run. We have…we have yet to find out who did it.”
That information shocks her to her core. She assumed she’d been in a car accident, but not a hit and run. “It wasn’t an accident? Someone meant to run me over?” The shock of the information sends a bolt of dread through her, her eyes start to sting and her nose starts to fizz. “Why?”
The pain on Ivar’s face is clear, pain at having to break the news to her, pain at having to relive the memory, there is guilt in his expression, she recognises that. 
“I think that’s enough information for now. Little by little, okay, baby? The important thing is you are alive, and what is gone will return. Go to sleep, you need to rest.”
He’s right, that’s a lot of information to digest all at once, she needs time for it to sink in and sort through the feelings involved, so she nods at him.
“We will talk more tomorrow. I’m looking forward to telling you about your unhealthy love of Chinese food!”
Julietta sniffs at this information, “I’ve been thinking about noodles a lot this week. That would explain it.”
“Silly thing, why didn’t you tell me? I will get some, do you want some now? What else do you want? Actually, don’t think, I will just get your favourite.” He leans in to kiss her and she pulls back. “Sorry,” he tells her with a look of deepest disappointment, “force of habit.”
She feels embarrassed. She should have let him kiss her, he’s her husband after all. “Don’t be sorry.” She moves her face to his and gives him a soft, chaste kiss on the lips. When she pulls away his face is so happy it makes her smile and kiss him again. Her stomach does a tiny flip when she kisses him. “Thank you for not leaving me alone, Ivar.”
“I’ll never leave you.”
Chapter 2
91 notes · View notes
barnes-lothbrok · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Modern Ivar and his hood feat Modern Hvitserk
103 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Vantalaður Ást
Ivar Lothbrok Hvitserk Lothbrok x F!Reader
Chapter 16 - Chapter 17.
A/N: So I wrote a little blurb about how I was sorry this had taken so long, but tumblr deleted my first draft and I legit don’t give a fuck anymore 🤣 blah blah @kaybee87 this is for you 😘
Warnings: 18+, suggestive themes, p in v (wrap it up irl.) alcohol, weddings, addiction mentions, pregnancy mention (not reader), the boys being boys.
Word Count: 7.9k+
Tagging: @ivarisms @majesticwren @a-bang-for-your-bucky @youbloodymadgenius @istorkyou @smears-and-spots @bulmabhadie @southernbe @ironynoticony @xceafh
Tumblr media
Your boots were muffled on the plush carpet as you strode down the corridor. The boys had the biggest suite in the hotel, three bedrooms and a living area as well. Hvitserk had told you all about it and sent you pictures, it looked lovely. They were out last night getting rip-roaringly drunk and you had to mute your phone at one point because Hvitserk was blowing up your notifications and the girls were getting curious.
Pulling out the key card you slipped it quietly into the door, letting the light turn green before carefully stepping inside. It was dimly lit, a lamp on a small table casting a faint glow into the small hallway area before it spread into the room itself. Smiling, you crouched down and gently touched the sleeping form that was resting against the wall. He stirred, his eyes opening and when he saw it was you a wide, sleepy smile split his face.
“Elsku dúllan mín,” he whispered, reaching for your face to pull you to him. Recoiling slightly, your nose scrunched up at the smell of him.
“Jesus, Hvitserk. You smell like a bar!”
“I didn’t want to miss you arriving,” he said with a needy tone that made you smile and lean into him. His lips were so welcoming and you exhaled softly against him. You had been apart for a few days before the wedding and you had missed him.
“Why are you on the floor, Hvitserk?”
“I knew what time you were coming, I moved out here so I could kiss you before anyone saw.” Leaning forward you rewarded him with another, mind bendingly, tender kiss. Your fingertips ghosted over the side of his face and his hand fisted in your top.
“We should stop,” you breathed, keeping your eyes closed because you didn’t want this moment to end.
“Don’t worry. No one will see us,” his gaze dropping to your lips once more before he kissed you harder this time. A tiny moan of desperation leaving you, his arms pulling you off your feet and into him.
“Hvitserk?” A voice called. You don’t even remember getting up. But by the time Ivar had rounded the corner you were standing, hitching the strap of your bag higher onto your shoulder while Hvitserk smirked on the floor. Elbows on his raised knees and a thumb swiping along his lips like he could still taste you. Ivar glanced between you both but his expression was impassive, leaning heavily on his cane. You made a note to make sure his meds were in his pocket before you left.
“What are you doing on the floor, huh?”
“Resting,” replied Hvitserk. “Still recovering from last night, brother.”
“You absolutely stink,” you commented and he sniggered lightly.
“I’m going for a shower now,” he jumped up towering over you as he stretched, his back to Ivar he gave you that puppy dog grin as your eyes locked. “Don’t miss me too much.”
“Fat chance,” you retorted. Placing your hands on his hips you shimmied past him in the small space, highly aware of how close he was and hoping Ivar wasn’t reading too much into this. “You ready?” You asked the youngest Lothbrok, trying to dispel the breathlessness from your tone.
“More than the rest,” he answered, glaring at his brother who you could just tell was still smirking even as he sauntered back to his room. You followed Ivar into the living area, seeing a mini bar against one wall and Ivar perched on a stool there. You emptied your bag onto the bar surface, scattering bands, combs, hair wax and gel. You concentrated on setting everything up as Ivar watched. His blue eyes were focussed when you dared to glance at him, his head resting in the palm of his hand and hair framing his handsome face. You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension that had collected between you.
“Was last night fun?” He stirred, breaking out of his reverie at the sound of your voice. His piercing gaze slid to you and for a minute you wondered if he knew the secret you bore. You always felt like Ivar could read you, better than even Hvitserk. Especially with the way he noticed even the smallest details about someone.
“It was what you would expect for a night out with my brothers.” You grinned fondly as memories surfaced.
“It’s been a while since I joined you all.” Ivar shrugged and sat up straight as you came round behind him.
“Hvitserk wouldn’t stop talking about you.” You didn’t miss the light hearted, yet probing tone of Ivar’s voice. Your hands didn’t falter though and you raked the comb through his soft strands without missing a beat.
“We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few months,” you finally responded and Ivar scoffed, his fist closed firmly around the handle on his cane.
“Uh huh.” He didn’t say anything else because Ubbe appeared from around the corner. He squinted at you and then threw himself onto a sofa with a groan.
“What time is it?” He rasped, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Struggling, brother?” You tugged on Ivar’s hair in warning and he sighed heavily.
“How are you….functioning?” Ubbe asked Ivar as he hung over the arm of the sofa watching you do his youngest brother's hair.
“I was sensible. And I knew we had to be up early. I didn’t get so drunk I acted like an idiot all night long either.”
“No. You don’t need alcohol for that Ivar,” Sigurd announced his arrival with that comment, making Ivar turn his head and you dropped the braid.
“Stay still!” You hissed, forcing his head back round. “No arguing today. This is Björn’s big day and if I so much as sniff the pair of you taking chunks out of each other, I will personally march you from the wedding myself.” You jabbed the comb in Sigurd’s direction and he held up his hands to show he surrendered. “You too,” you stated, poking Ivar in the shoulder and making him curse softly.
“She’s right,” Ubbe mumbled. “No fighting.”
“Did I hear my litla systir?” You let Björn hug you from behind, wrapping you in one of his famous snuggly bear hugs. He leaned on your shoulder, squeezing you hard round the middle before releasing you.
“Nervous, brother bear?”
“Nah. Should I be?” He asked quickly and you shook your head.
“They were all still asleep when I left this morning but the excitement is popping.” You finished off Ivar’s hair, tying the last braid and resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re done. Sigurd?” Applying some wax to your hands you scrunched his curls before segmenting out some strands at the side and began to braid them close behind his ear. “What am I doing with yours, Björn?”
“Just redoing the braids.”
“What about me?” You glanced up only to feel a flame in your face at the sight of Hvitserk fresh from his shower. He still had droplets of water settling like diamonds on his skin. His tattoo that you had traced with your fingers while he told you about it, rippled as he poured himself some water for the small sink behind the bar. He leaned easily against the counter, the towel slung dangerously low and it was all you could do to keep your eyes trained on Sigurd’s braids.
“Put some fucking clothes on!” Sigurd grabbed a handful of your bands and threw them at Hvitserk.
“Hey! I need those!”
“I’ve got them, sæta.” Peering over the bar you saw Hvitserk give you a wink when he was ducked down and you rolled your eyes, grateful that Sigurd had broken the moment for you. Prodding the blonde Lothbrok in the shoulder, you were satisfied when he flinched and swore.
“Don’t mess with me today, Sigurd.” Finally you finished both sides and stepped back to admire your handy work. “Do you…?”
“No I’m done,” he said as he slipped off the stool.
“I’m next!” Demanded Hvitserk who still hadn’t got dressed. This was going to be a struggle. The others slowly filtered away to get changed and soon you were left alone with him. His hazel eyes looked around as you tilted his head to the side. You jolted slightly when he slipped a hand down your legs, digging his fingertips into your thigh and you inhaled sharply before slapping him with the flat of the comb.
“Ouch, kærasta!”
“Don’t distract me!” You whispered.
“I can’t help myself.” His leg jigged in irritation and he crossed his arms across his chest. “I just want to tell everyone how I feel. How we feel.”
“I know. Soon, ok?” You breathed, combing half of his hair out of the way. “Let Björn and Kat have their day.”
“But then we’re…” he trailed off as Ivar thumped into view.
“Oh wow look at you!” It spilled from you a little too brightly but he did look amazing. Kat had picked out black suits with a deep red waistcoat under the jacket, over a black shirt. Without thinking you stepped around Hvitserk and reached to adjust Ivar’s collar. He tipped his head forward and you slipped your fingers round, smoothing it all down only to be struck by how sad his gaze was when it locked with yours. “You ok?”
“Are you finishing my hair? I want to get ready.” You looked over your shoulder to glower at Hvitserk but he just bit his bottom lip as he watched you and Ivar. His leg was still going and his arms tightened slightly across his chest, bunching up his muscles.
“Shut up, Hvitserk,” Ivar snapped.
“Make me. Brother.”
“Oh children! Do I have to give you two the same threat I gave Ivar and Sigurd? No fucking fighting!” You made a point of glaring at Hvitserk but he avoided your gaze, his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Seems someone is the common denominator there,” muttered Hvitserk and you cracked him on the shoulder. The slap sounded worse than it was but he still flinched, you had no doubt Ivar was looking smug behind you.
“Pack it in. Now let me finish your hair and I’ll gush over how handsome you look too, Mr What About Me.” Not much else was said as you swiftly braided Hvitserk’s hair, his arms not shifting from his defensive position.
You gave each brother the same attention you’d given Ivar, except Björn. When you saw him you nearly sobbed, letting him drag you into an all encompassing bear hug before he sent you packing back to the girls.
You took a moment before you left, watching them preening amongst themselves as Ubbe poured some mead for them all. You went to leave when you felt a hand on your shoulder.
“You’ve got time,” muttered Björn, holding out a glass for you.
“Surely this is a brother thing,” you assumed.
“It’s a family thing,” Ubbe spoke up. Dumping your bag beside the sofa you reluctantly took the glass, Björn wrapping his arm around and pulling you into him.
“Who’d have thought I’d be the first one to get married,” he started and you all scoffed in amusement.
“You’re the only one in a steady enough relationship,” Ivar pointed out. “I’d say it was pretty obvious.” Hvitserk groaned and nudged his brother as you glared at him from under Björn’s embrace.
“To our oldest brother,” Ubbe raised his glass and looked around the group. “May he pave the way for the rest of us.”
“Here, here!” You cheered, knocking your glass into the rest and you all chugged the mead quickly. You gave up after a few gulps knowing there was wine waiting for you. “Don’t spill any!” You cried as they tipped their heads back, Hvitserk gasping in satisfaction when he finished first, a proud smile splitting his face.
“Still the fastest chugger,” he announced.
“That’s what she said,” muttered Sigurd and they all descended into snorts of laughter.
“I’ve got to go! Have fun boys, for the love of the gods don’t drink much more! Don’t mark your suits and be on fucking time!” You stressed urgently.
“Don’t worry astvinur,” Ubbe said as he wrapped an arm around Björn and gestured with the hand still clutching his glass tankard. “After you I’m the most sensible one here.” You smiled, shaking your head and made your way to the door.
“Hey!” You paused, watching Hvitserk approach, feeling the butterflies in your stomach as you looked him over, appreciating his suit. “Checking me out, huh sæta?”
“Maybe,” you admitted quietly.
“I can’t wait to see you in your dress.” As he spoke he leaned against the half shut door, his fingers curling over yours and his hazel eyes dragging up and down your form. He sucked in his bottom lip, such a simple motion had such a devastating effect on you it was all you could do to keep your composure.
“Kiss me,” you whispered boldly. His gaze flared, followed by a swift cocky upturn to his lips before he was snatching the breath from your body.
“I don’t want to stop…” he mumbled against your mouth, a hand coming up to cup the side of your face and you groaned. Coming to your senses, you pushed him away. Gently touching your lips as you adjusted the bag strap on your shoulder.
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Not soon enough,” he grumbled good naturedly. The door didn’t close and you knew he was watching you walk away so you sashayed before breaking down in giggles. The door finally closed and you sighed, thinking he’d gone but instead he grabbed your arm and spun you round just as you turned the corner in the corridor. Both hands came up to cradle your face as he gave you a deep, needy kiss which made your head spin. Your lungs ached because you forgot to breathe and the butterflies in your stomach started doing somersaults.
“Go now or I’ll never let you leave,” he groaned. Biting your lip you smiled.
“I’m going.”
“Hvitserk? You out here?” Ubbe shouted into the hallway.
“Shit, yeah I’m coming!” He called, sauntering round the corner and you leaned against the wall, fanning yourself. You had to get a grip but today was going to be so terribly difficult.
Tumblr media
You left the main hotel building, walking purposely back towards the Bride’s cottage that you’d left everyone else in. Music was going, Lagertha was pouring wine and she cheered loudly when you entered. Kat was sitting at the dresser having her makeup done, Alex was dancing with Hali, making the boy throw his head back with laughter.
Before you’d even put your bag down, you were almost knocked over by Asa as she wrapped her little arms around you.
“How is frændi Hvitserk?” She whispered. Her eyes were wide and you got down on her level. Ever since they’d been told about Hvitserk and his “illness,” she had made all these scenarios up in her mind and you were the only one who could put her mind at ease.
“I’ve just seen him,” you whispered. “And he told me, he cannot wait to see his very favourite frænka.” You let her digest that information for a moment and she rewarded you with a beaming smile.
“He did?” She gasped. “Will he look at my pretty dress?” She stepped back and did a twirl in the rich red dress that matched the brothers. The layers flared out creating such a beautiful image for the briefest of moments you almost felt broody. She was gorgeous, and one of your favourite people on this planet. When she stopped you straightened her straps, gently brushing her hair off her shoulder and gave her a smile.
“He is going to love your dress. Shall I get in mine?” Without a word she grabbed your hand, barely giving you time to wave at Kat who was beginning to look nervous before you were dragged into the other room.
She chatted to you the whole time, bringing you up to speed on Torvi who you’d just missed; her little legs swinging on the chair while she waited for you to reappear. The dress was perfect, long floaty material that hid all the sins of your body and a matching shade to Asa’s. The sleeves were off the shoulder, leaving straps to hold it up, blooms of lace plunging down, but not indecently. Thankfully Kat had also got you all some white faux fur pashminas to cover your shoulders. Already you knew though, some dancing, some shots and you wouldn't be feeling the cold anymore.
You joined the others, Asa letting go of your hand and running to join Lagertha on the sofa while she watched you all get ready. Kat was standing nervously to the side and you scowled at her.
“Stop chewing!” You scolded softly.
“I know but I’m so nervous!” She breathed. “How did he seem?” You sat in the chair and let the makeup artist start on you.
“Björn is stupidly excited,” you nearly made a joke about them celebrating so hard they might be late; but from the look of her that would be a very ill timed joke. “They’re all so happy for him.”
“No horror stories from last night?”
“Nope. They got drunk, probably danced until Ivar ruined their fun…haven’t you got a dress to put on?” You asked, making her jump up. Luckily Lagertha and Asa distracted Kat and disappeared with her to get changed.
Finally you were all done, standing there with your beautiful flowers, make up and hair done and a sense of anticipation filled the cottage when Lagertha asked if you were all ready to see.
She opened the doors and a collective gasp spilled from you and Alex as Kat stepped into the room.
Her dress was exquisite, the top half made of lined lace, hugging her body and covering her arms in patterns of flowers and leaves. The middle band was a matching shade of red, gems glinting in the light when she moved, the skirt of her dress flowing elegantly round her legs.
“Well?” She squeaked. You were lost for words, tears threatening to ruin all the hard work of the makeup artist so when Hali stepped forward first you let out a little shaky breath.
“I think you look beautiful,” he said earnestly. “Can I walk you down the aisle?” Alex blew out a breath and you knew she was trying not to cry as much as you were.
“Yes, Hali. Of course you can.” You all fussed around the bride, adjusting her veil and laying out the train of her dress before lining up.
They were getting married just behind the cottage to a backdrop of mountains and snow and then the wedding party would move to the marquee to eat and dance. This wedding had been pulled together quickly but it had all slotted into place perfectly and you were bursting with pride that your biggest brother bear was finally getting married.
Tumblr media
Björn wasn’t late. All the brothers were stood at the altar, looking impeccable but your gaze softened at the sight of Hvitserk. Imagining this is what it would be like to get married to him. Marriage was not something you’d really put a lot of thought into but now you had that…that someone. This desire was foreign and you weren’t entirely sure what to do with it. Concentrating on the ceremony you hoped your thoughts would clear but your gaze kept wandering to Hvitserk, only to find him returning the focussed look.
The pair of you almost missed the end of the ceremony, the kiss, the cheers. Following the newly married couple into the marquee you were momentarily distracted by Asa as she dragged you round pointing out the decorations and the buffet that was being laid out. Eventually you made it to the bar, immediately asking for a gin and guzzling it harder than you should.
“Thirsty?” You let out a moan into your glass, you didn’t need this right now. Not when he looked for fucking good in that suit.
“Go away Hvitserk,” you whispered, flinching when he rested his chin on your shoulder. Your entire body tensed but he let out a soothing “ssssh,” into your ear.
“Relax, sæta. No one suspects a thing.”
“I just don’t want to ruin their moment.” You whispered. He ordered a drink from over your shoulder, pressing in behind and you had to bite your bottom lip to keep your thoughts to yourself. Hvitserk leaned on the bar beside you, nursing his drink but keeping contact with you even when other people came and spoke to you both. When the rush cleared you two found yourselves alone at the end of the bar, observing everyone enjoying themselves.
“I want you,” he murmured in your ear just as the DJ stepped up to play some music while people ate. Your entire body felt like it was electrified, the hairs on your arms standing on end as his words spawned a desire deep in your belly. You pressed your back into him, each movement just giving him a hint of friction on the growing bulge in his trousers. You smirked at the tiny little breath hitch he gave, his hidden hand grabbing an arse cheek hard enough to make you jump. “Don’t tease me,” he growled.
“Why not? You do it to me all the time.” You casually finished your drink, stepping back a little to bump into him harder and he swore under his breath, fingers grabbing your hip to hold you in place.
“Bathroom. Now.” Protests died in your throat as the pair of you scanned the crowd before quickly diving into the door to your left. He barged you through the doors and thankfully the place was empty. His lips were insistent, his fingers commanding with the way they held your throat. Molten heat pooled between your legs and you wanted nothing more than to have him here, right now.
“We shouldn’t!” You giggled as Hvitserk kissed his way up your throat and the side of your face.
“But the dress,” he groaned. “You in that dress is driving me wild. Do you know how difficult it is for me to keep my expression blank so Ubbe doesn’t figure us out?”
“Just call me litla…”
“Don’t ruin the moment for me!” He huffed, forcing his lips to cover yours and stop you talking. You eased yourself up onto the counter, legs spread so he could wedge himself between them. His hand held your face, a simple motion you had missed these past few days. The kiss tossed back and forth between you, both of you fighting for dominance and a small giggle left you at the idea of doing this in a bathroom at your friend's wedding. “I missed you!” He whispered and you moaned softly as his hand slipped under the folds of floaty material. His breath hitched when he felt your lace underwear and you smirked over his shoulder. He kissed you again, almost cracking your head on the tiles, he was so desperate to taste your lips. “Sæta, I need you…”
“We can’t,” you breathed. But already your hips were lifting off the counter as he slipped your underwear down your thighs. Your arms curled round his neck, holding him close and inhaling everything that made him so ultimately Hvitserk. You heard his belt go, the buckle clanking on the surface as he slipped his trousers down. You planted your foot against the hand dryer on the wall as Hvitserk reached to hook his hand over the top of the mirror behind you. You were both so desperate you knew no foreplay was needed. Spitting on his hand, Hvitserk wiped it quickly on his flushed cock and you wriggled on the counter in anticipation. His other hand hooked around your waist and hauled you to the edge, notching his cock at your entrance and both of you groaned in unison at the sensation.
With a firm thrust he entered you fully, his hazel eyes watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features. His own face screwing up in concentration, knowing the pair of you could be discovered at any moment. He rocked your body, desperate to reach that point that neither of you could back from. His entire body was tense, his lips trailing over your neck as you leaned back into the support of his arm. He found a steady rhythm, all the while you tried to keep listening out for the door but you were soon drowning in the noise of the gasps and moans that filled the bathroom.
His hands came back to your body, clutching you to him as he throbbed inside you, filling and stretching your cunt at this angle. His mouth was open, his eyes glassy and hooded which told you he was close. His gasps increased, mingled with your own; they echoed loudly against the tiles.
“Hvitserk, I’m gonna…” your voice was breathy and it seemed to spur him on to increase the tempo. Your mouth found his, feeding off his desire, tasting his neediness and it brought you so close to the brink.
“Guð, þú ert svo kynþokkafullur,” he gasped against your cheek just as you cunt clamped around him. Burying your face into him, you hoped he would absorb the loud cries that threatened to echo out of the bathroom. The rippling sensation of your orgasm had him rutting forcefully into you as he found his own release. His fingers tangled almost painfully in your braids, his form trembling against yours as he worked you both through the remaining waves of pleasure that weaved between you.
Catching your breath you let him kiss the soft, tender spot under your ear, his hips flexing into you once more as he cupped your face.
The squeak of the outer door had you shoving him away and he quickly disappeared into a stall to redress, still having time to chuck you a devilish smirk before you grabbed your underwear off the floor just as the door opened and Kat and Alex strode in.
“There you are!” Cried Kat.
“Why does it smell like sex in here?” Alex asked with a rise of her eyebrow.
“I have no idea,” you forced out. “Maybe people were in here before me.” Looking in the mirror you saw you were a mess, lipstick was smeared across your lips and you quickly worked on sorting it out, keeping your legs crossed and hoping you could dive into a stall soon.
“Whatever. I have a crisis!” You dared to glance at the door Hvitserk was hiding behind and quickly tried to figure out how you were going to get them out of here.
“Shall we do this at the bar. With shots?” You suggested but Kat leaned on the counter.
“No alcohol.” Both you and Alex glanced at each other over her hunched form.
“Why?” Alex asked.
“I think I’m pregnant,” whispered Kat. All of you turned at once as Hvitserk burst from the stall, excitement lighting up his face and you died a little inside but thankfully his trousers were done up.
“What the hell Hvitserk?!” You cried trying to act surprised.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” smirked Alex. Kat just gazed at him with wide imploring eyes.
“This is the ladies!” She cried but then waved a hand like it didn’t matter. “You can’t tell him, Hvitserk! Promise me!”
“I won’t say a word,” he grinned before grabbing her in a bear-like hug, his bright eyes slowly wandering to you and you smiled tentatively. “I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He released Kat and to your surprise he slipped an arm around your waist and kissed your cheek, lingering for just a second longer than he needed to. You coughed slightly hoping the desire in your body wasn’t there for everyone to see. He made a fuss of kissing Kat and then Alex before his gaze turned back to you with all unspoken promises and he disappeared from view.
“Well that needs some explaining. His shirt was untucked,” Alex pointed out but Kat deflected the comment.
“Her and Hvitserk are together all the time, they’re like twins,” she murmured. “He probably freaked when he heard us because this is the girls bathroom.” You nodded but you could see Alex wasn’t buying what Kat was saying, her gaze was unforgiving and you almost buckled under the weight of it.
“So. Have you done a test?” You asked, hoping to put the attention back on Kat.
“That’s what we’re here to do,” announced Alex. You and Kat stared at her as she delved into her bag and pulled out a box.
“You just walk around with them in your bag?” You asked incredulously but all she did was shrug as Kat fell on the box. Gathering her dress she disappeared into a stall.
“So,” started Alex. She pinned you with a knowing look and you shifted uncomfortably. “Hvitserk.”
“Is my best friend,” you stated.
“I’m not accepting that he’s just a friend.”
“He’s had a difficult time and I’ve been helping him through it these last 6 months.” You avoided her gaze, it wasn’t a total lie. You had been helping him through everything and he was doing great. The pair of you were also in a full blown relationship underneath everyone’s nose, wanting to see if it worked before you told anyone else. It quickly became evident that it was working and you both decided to keep it under wraps until after the wedding.
Thankfully her attention was redirected when Kat flushed the toilet. She looked a little pale when she placed the test on top of the box, face down.
“Now we wait.”
Tumblr media
Everyone was dancing in the marquee. The music was loud and jaunty, Ubbe grabbed you for a twirl as you walked past, your red dress fluttering around your legs. Laughter and happy conversation drifted on the notes of the song and you found your spirits lifted, a smile permanently on your face. This was everything you had dreamed for Kat and Björn and you were so happy they had finally taken the last step.
You paused, watching Kat and Björn in the middle of the dance floor sharing a private moment in the whirlwind of their day. Most of the guests were up and dancing, except Ivar. You came to a stop beside him, hoping he’d say something. It had been strained between you these past few months but most of your effort has gone into hiding your relationship with Hvitserk.
“Are you having a good time?” You asked, glancing at him and seeing how relaxed he was.
“It is a party and a feast. What isn’t there to like?”
“Are you happy for Björn?” He sipped his drink, rubbing his hand over his mouth when he was finished and pointing at Kat.
“She is the best of his choices.”
“Yes she is,” you agreed with a soft smile. “She has changed him and made him grow up.”
“How is it living with my brother?” Ivar asked with a smirk. “Because out of all of us, he is the messiest.”
“Yes he is,” you said with warm affection. “But his hours are long and it gives me time to pick up after him and work.” Sipping your glass of champagne you watched Hvitserk on the opposite of the dance floor, he was talking to Halfdan. His hands animated as he described something and you smiled to yourself. Sure you had bad days and this whole week had been an ultimate test for him; what with being away from you for a few days and around the most alcohol he’d had in months. But he’d done it. He was doing it. And you felt your heart swell with pride.
“I do think I could have handled it better.” Turning slightly you looked at Ivar who was staring into the pits of his glass. His expression was pensive, sadness shone in the depths of his exquisite blue irises and your throat ran dry all of a sudden.
“Handled, what better?”
“You. Us—this.”
“I don’t….”
“I need to finish.” He didn’t sound angry, but his features were dragged down, his teeth appearing for a second as he desperately tried to express himself. His eyes looked all around until they finally settled on you making your heart stutter for a brief moment. “I knew. Long before you and Hvitserk, I knew. I could see it and still I let myself…want you.” The splinters that had long repaired began to seep, the gentle shift of your heart started the age old ache that you carried around with you, buried deep inside. “I let myself feel and then—well, I tried.”
“So did I, Ivar. But you didn’t let me be yours.” He shrugged, his leg shuffling into better position.
“And then Hvitserk,” he continued. “I saw your face at the hospital and I knew at that moment you’d never be fully mine. Even though I hoped... Even Sigurd tried and didn’t get anywhere.”
“W-what?” Now he smirked, covering the pain in his face at your shock.
“It’s why he created a scene at the lodge. You all forget, I observe everything.”
“But you knew?!”
“Of course I knew,” he replied, scrunching up his nose. Scoffing in disbelief you drained your glass.
“What do we do now?” You asked quietly as the pair of you stood shoulder to shoulder, watching your family and friends with smiles lighting their faces. The happiness that filled this wedding was something you hadn’t felt in such a long time and even now it was tinged with a greyness you couldn’t put a name to.
“You carry on. You are exactly what Hvitserk needed, still needs. You were always his.” You glanced at the youngest Lothbrok, tears welling in your eyes as your mind ran through what could have been.
“Maybe in another life,” you murmured.
“One where I learn to love what’s good for me.” On a whim, you leaned in close and he turned to you in surprise. His eyes softened as your scent wrapped around him and he breathed deeply. Boldly you placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek. You felt him lean into you, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, your shed tears resting on his skin.
“I’m sorry, Ivar,” you whispered. He nodded, swallowing against the lump in his throat as his fingers dug into you. One last contact before you were gone for good. Without looking back at him you left. Abandoning your glass on an empty table as the sobs rose up inside you. Maybe if he’d tried harder you’d have stayed. But it was all ifs, buts and maybes.
It was dark in the garden, the light of the braziers only stretched so far and you needed a moment. Tears slid down your face, knowing you still had to talk to Björn and Ubbe. It had been difficult with Ivar, more than you were anticipating. Your old feelings had surfaced, because you had let yourself want him. You had let yourself hope. The love for him was still there but it was edged with pain. You knew why he had pushed you away in the end, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
“What are you doing?” Whirling around you held in a scream, your heart leaping in fear but it was only Sigurd.
“What is it with you Lothbroks scaring the shit out of me?” You sniffed, wiping your eyes and hoping he didn’t notice.
“Sorry,” he replied, giving you a toothy grin that said anything but.
“In answer to your question, I was just taking a moment.”
“To cry.”
“No…” he grabbed at your arm and forced you to face him. You went to push him off but he gently swiped a stray tear off your chin.
“I saw you talking to Ivar.”
“He didn’t do this to me.”
“He doesn’t have to do anything to make someone cry,” he stated and you huffed out a laugh. “There, that’s the smile,” he murmured.
“You didn’t come out here to make me smile, Sigurd.”
“Rumbled.” He released you but stayed beside you, resting against a tree, his curly hair cascaded over his shoulders as he glanced back at the wedding. “I wanted to thank you.”
“Me? You barely let me touch your hair.”
“No, not for that. For Hvitserk.”
“Hv-Hvitserk?” You stuttered.
“None of us could have brought him back from the edge like you have. You are special to him.” You rubbed your hands up your bare arms looking away from him as he spoke because you knew your face would give you away. “More than he lets on.”
“I’m just his friend,” you lied quietly and Sigurd laughed in quiet disbelief.
“We all have eyes, krúttið mitt.”
“Not you an’ all,” you muttered. He placed a hand on your shoulder, drawing you into his warm body and you went easily. Slipping your hands under his suit jacket and snuggling close into his body.
“Ivar knows. He knew.” You felt Sigurd tense against you followed by a quick draw of breath as he attempted a nonchalant shrug.
“Doesn’t matter now anyway,” mumbled Sigurd and you nodded.
“I might turn in.” Leaving his embrace you let him catch you round the waist. His mismatched green eyes glinted in the firelight as they searched your features.
“Goodbye, krúttið mitt.” The phrase held more weight than normal and you both knew it.
“Bye, Sigurd.” His fingers trailed over your hip as you moved away. His gaze followed you until you’d disappeared into the crowd.
You were caught up in the swirl of warmth and happiness, joy spilled over and tried to light your soul as you weaved your way across the dance floor. Ubbe clutched your hand, pulling you from the throng and over to the bar with Björn following. He embraced you with one of those bear hugs you adored so much. It was getting harder and harder to keep yourself from falling apart as you stared at the boys who had been your older brothers and protectors for most of your life.
“We wanted to talk to you,” Ubbe started.
“Oh yeah. What have I done now?”
“It’s Hvitserk,” stated Björn and you felt your smile faltering as your gaze drifted between two very different sets of blue eyes.
“Oh?”
“I don’t know what you did ástvinur,” Ubbe leaned on his elbows against the bar, facing the gathering. “But I haven’t seen Hvitserk smile like that in months.”
“He has done amazingly,” you said lightly.
“Bjarnarungi,” Björn whispered a name you hadn’t heard in such a long time and you almost sobbed it all out to them there and then. “Does he make you happy?” As you stared up at Björn, Ubbe leaned in closer.
“Because you make him happy.”
“Guys…we were going to wait until after the wedding before we said anything!” Ubbe let out a noise of satisfaction as Björn slammed his hand firmly onto the wooden surface of the bar.
“I knew it!” He exclaimed loudly. The pair of them reached for you at the same time and you felt the heat of your emotion as it crept down your face. Holding tightly onto their arms you sobbed quietly, wanting to remember this moment forever.
“My turn!” More hands snaked round you and the others shifted to make room for Hvitserk pressed in behind you. His face burying into your neck, the tickle of his breath catching your behind the ear.
“Group hug!” Shouted Sigurd as he barrelled into you all, nearly making the group fall over and you let out a breathless giggle.
“Ivar!” Ubbe shouted and you wondered if he’d join in. Turning in the tight hug you felt Hvitserk move to the side and Ivar appeared. All of you created a circle, linking arms as you all peered inward, something you hadn’t done since you were kids. Wedged between Ivar and Björn with Hvitserk opposite you couldn’t help but get caught up in the feel of you all together. It probably wouldn’t happen again for a long time.
“No matter what happens,” Björn stated quietly. “We are Lothbroks.”
“Except me!” You piped up making Ubbe cough slightly and Sigurd rolled his eyes in a good natured way.
“Right now,” Björn continued. “I need to give my wife her present! Litla systir…” he prised you from the tangle of the others and walked you to the edge of the dance floor. “Find Floki, tell him it’s time.” You nodded, for once completely in the dark about what he was going to do. You found Floki talking with Lagertha who beamed as you approached, embracing you gently and rubbing your arm.
“Litla hrafn.” You went willingly into Floki’s waiting embrace breathing him in deeply before looking up at him.
“Björn said it's time.” He excused himself from Lagertha and still with his arm around you, steered you out of the marquee. “Where are we going?”
“Björn got Kat a…” he giggled, his entire face lighting up at the irony. “A köttur. He got Kat, a cat.” You frowned, seeing he’d brought you to the car park where his van was. Unlocking the camper he ushered you inside.
“Floki, it’s warm in here. Are we going to collect it?” There was no evidence of a cat in the living area of the camper.
“In here,” he gestured to you and opened the door to his bedroom. Clasping your hands together you let out a high pitched squeal, whispering how adorable the kitten was as it padded towards you across Floki’s bed, fluffy tail raised and little mewling cries spewed from it. “I’ve been coming to check on her every hour,” he assured you. “Komið svo litli kettlingur.” He scooped her up and held her close, whispering words of endearment as he carefully put her in the carrier.
“We can’t go with you.” The words fell from you before you’d even really thought about it and Floki looked at you, no judgement in his eyes as he waited for you to finish. “Hvitserk would do it, for me. But I can’t ask that of him.” Floki nodded and pulled you down to sit on the covers, his hands smothering yours lovingly.
“I’m glad you saw it yourself. You are more in tune with him than you even realise. Dóttir…”
“I’m sorry. I did really want to come with you to travel but I don’t think—just not now.” The disappointment was evident on your face but the pain of ripping Hvitserk from people he loved the most was something you couldn’t do. He was doing so well, firmly back to the Hvitserk you’d known all your life, he was working, living… At the time he’d agreed and said it would do him good, because he’d do anything for you. “We’ll visit,” you whispered, squeezing Floki’s fingers.
“I’d like that.” Hitching up a smile you gestured to the kitten purring loudly from the carrier as she rubbed against the side.
“We should get her inside. She’s the second main event after all.” Floki chuckled and nodded in agreement.
The marquee was still heaving with the celebrations but you and Floki headed to the cottage just set amongst some trees. It was where you and others had got ready. Your stuff would have been moved from the cottage and put in your rooms in the main building but you couldn’t resist flirting about and straightening things up. Moving the champagne to beside the bed, spreading out the rose petals a bit more and moving the suitcases so they weren’t in the way. As you drew out the hanger for Kat’s dress the main door opened and they spilled in fresh from the dance floor, all giggles and rosy faces. Kat saw you first and threw her arms around you.
“I’m gonna tell him,” she whispered and you hugged her back tightly. “It feels right.”
“It does,” you breathed back.
“Eiginkonu.” You turned Kat around and pushed her towards Björn. “I have a gift for you.” She nearly screamed, hands over her mouth as she danced on the spot while Floki carefully extracted the kitten.
“Oh my gods, she is gorgeous!!” Kat exclaimed and tears began to well in her eyes as the kitten snuggled in her arms. “Oh Björn!”
“Faðir.” You helped the door open just in time to hear your friend say she had something to tell Björn before you closed it, leaving them to their bliss.
“So the others know about me and Hvitserk.”
“Yes, I know, litla hrafn. I think you and Hvitserk were the last ones to know.”
“That just makes me feel stupid,” you moaned but Floki shook his head.
“You needed the time to come to the realisation yourselves or it never would have worked.” He paused at the entrance, the flashing lights dancing over his form and you felt that telltale sinking feeling in your gut.
“You’re going to leave now.”
“I am, Dóttir.”
“It never gets any easier,” you sniffled. Floki drew you in, rubbing circles on your back as he comforted you, murmuring all the while about how much he loved and missed you but he just couldn’t stay in one place. After a few minutes he turned you round and deposited you in a pair of arms you knew so well. Burying yourself into his chest as the emotions took over. You felt happy because today had been amazing but at the same time you felt sad and confused about changing your plans last minute.
Hvitserk spoke to Floki as he held you, his voice rumbling through his chest but you didn’t want to listen to what was being said, only noticing the way Floki’s touch left your shoulder and you knew he’d gone. You were barely aware of being led inside the main building, Hvitserk guiding you into the quiet of a dark room and making you lay down with him.
He cradled you close, letting you wring yourself dry until drowsiness took over. He brushed the hair out of your now peaceful face. He knew what pressure you’d been under with work, looking after him and helping him slowly get back into work. He owed you everything, his entire life if he was honest. He couldn’t imagine never seeing your face again or hearing your voice, experiencing your touch and all of that kept him here. It tethered him, grounded him to keep fighting and never give into those urges again.
As he rocked you gently he fished around in his pocket and drew out a small box. Flicking the lid open he held it up to the lamp light, admiring the way the light fractured on the facets of the diamond he had purchased for you. Ravens of white gold held the gem, wings spread to join onto the band that would one day sit on your finger. He wanted nothing more than to give it to you but it never felt right. Snapping the box closed he buried it once more in his pocket, snuggling down with you and telling himself the time would come soon.
40 notes · View notes
heavenlymorals · 1 year
Text
A Grave in Autumn
Tumblr media
Summary: After getting a call from his wife that his youngest son is at the hospital and may not make it, Ragnar Lothbrok takes a moment to visit the grave of his dead daughter. If his son were to die, it wouldn't be his first rodeo.
Modern AUs are always so fun to read and so hard to write. I did have fun with this though 🍂 (Gyda deserved better-). Also, small headcanon, but I picture modern Ivar to be a least somewhat into goth fashion/culture. Where does this headcanon come from? From the fact that he had no fucking color in his wardrobe in the series.
All around him, the leaves were an ombre of red, orange, and yellow. The wind blew viciously across the branches and leaves fluttered all around him like sparks of tepid fire. The leaves would wisp all around him, clinging to his coat, to his hair, to his beard. Ragnar got annoyed and would pinch the wonderfully dead foliage and drop it mindlessly on the ground. The leaf, whether red or orange or yellow, would cover up the drab brown leaves that crunched loudly under each heavy footprint. 
Autumn was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. All around him, he could see its beauty. Mother nature was a wonderful artist, no doubt. As far as Ragnar Lothbrok was concerned, no one could try to replicate her designs even if they wished to. Or maybe it was God’s design, who knew? He wore a golden cross with him almost all the time, a gift from his dearest friend Athelstan who either A. died a long time ago, or B. disappeared so he would never have to deal with the downward spiral that was Ragnar Lothbrok. If it was the latter, Ragnar couldn’t blame him. He was a toxic friend, a terrible person. Abandonment was far too kind of a fate for him. 
He kept walking along the trail. It was dusty and old. It seemed that the church to whom the cemetery belonged fell on hard times. The trail wasn’t crisp in its lines. All around it, one could see the breaching of sickly dead weeds strangling the grass. They were now a yellowish color, which reminded Ragnar heavily of vomit. He would know. He used to drink a lot. Did crack a lot. He threw up many times, the aroma becoming dimmer and dimmer on his nose each time it happened. After a while, it simply became an inconvenience, like how muscles would get sore after a good day at the gym. 
That was…terrifying, looking back at it, now, on the straight and narrow and sober. How he was so willing to overlook such significant things to escape his misery through artificial ecstasy. Getting high and getting drunk was his happiness. What made it worse was that he was still Ragnar Lothbrok, smart, lucky Ragnar Lothbrok, who could achieve whatever he wished. He was still running his business to a T. He was still making money. He was still skyrocketing into fame and fortune. Because of this, he couldn’t bring himself to care that this was wrong. 
Sober. He’s sober now. He’d still drink now and then, but he was still sober. He’d never touch any recreational drug ever again. 
As he kept walking across the trail, he came face to face with an iron fence. The fence itself was this fine between being of minimalist style and dabbling in the intricate gothic fashion that many cemeteries were fond of. As he opened the gate, it creaked loudly. Somewhat ought to oil the thing. 
He kept walking across that dingy trail until all around him were a plethora of tombstones. He absent-mindedly made note of the shapes. Square-top headstones. Ogee headstones. Arc tops and check tops. The iconic cross headstones, becoming dull at the edges from the constant wind and rain. Some of the headstones had angels carved onto them. One of them caught Ragnar’s eye. The angel was in the image of a young girl. Her hair was adorned with thick, Grecian curls as she looked down at the grave ledger with her hands clasped together and her eyes closed in a solemn expression. Her dress cascaded down her in intricate folds and from the back, two small wings spread out delicately. The whole headstone was made of marble and the ledger was a polished black ingrained with gold. 
It must have been expensive. 
Ragnar sighed and continued walking, passing more tombs, some simple, some not. Some were clean and others were forgotten, as evidenced by the green moss and the stained brown that defiled them. He kept walking up the trail till he made it up to a secluded corner in the cemetery. There weren't any other tombs in this area, thus it looked almost abandoned. Shading the entire thing was a proud Norway Maple. It looked like it was on fire, with how bright it was. If he touched a leaf, he was sure that he might’ve burned his finger. The ravens seem fine though, cawing proudly and dancing on the branches. Fitting that the ravens were here. Ever a companion of death. Ever since ‘God’ and ‘Jesus’ weren’t the ones who held dominion over the heavens, but Odin and his brood. 
The leaves fell again and covered what Ragnar was looking for. 
A flat tombstone.
Perhaps it would make sense to know why he was looking for this unassuming little slab of rock. Why he was trekking through this cemetery. Why he gazed so intently on the guardian angel that prayed over that anonymous deceased. 
A few days ago, he got a call from his wife, Aslaug. He used the term loosely. His marriage to Aslaug came from a place of practicality more than a place of love. He met the woman at a club and well, one thing led to another, and they slept together. Other than to relieve his hard-on with a beautiful woman, he also did it as an act of revenge. Before that fateful night, he learned that his  wife, now ex-wife, Lagertha, had been sleeping with his brother while they were together and that his oldest son, Bjorn, might’ve never been his child. Thankfully, one discreet DNA check later revealed that Bjorn WAS his son, but Ragnar was still pissed. He slept with Aslaug, made it rather easy for Lagertha to figure out, and then left. 
And being rather petty back then, he wasted no time courting Aslaug after he found out she was pregnant with his child and making her fall in love with him just as a final ‘fuck you’ to Lagertha. It rubbed salt in Lagertha’s wounds that Aslaug was pregnant as they tried many times after Bjorn’s birth to have another child but failed over and over again. 
Looking back at it now, since he is older and at least somewhat wiser, he could only cringe at how childish he was, how needlessly petty. 
In any case, he didn’t love Aslaug in the same way that he used to love Lagertha. He loved her as the mother of his children, but besides that? No. He didn’t love her. This then lead to many issues in their relationship, which could have contributed to his affairs with drugs and alcohol and her similar bouts with alcohol.
They managed to sort that whole business out, somehow. For now, they were simply married for convenience and neither of them was particularly keen on destroying that convenience. 
Anywho, yes, he got a call from Aslaug and a deep pit of blackness threatened to consume him whole. He still remembered how the phone buzzed in his pocket, how he narrowed his eyes as he saw the caller ID, how he swiped to answer, all of that.
And how his heart sank as he received this terrible news.
“Ragnar?”
“Who else then? What’s going on, Aslaug?” 
Silence on the other end of the line. He swore he could’ve heard a choked sound, one that came from a person trying to swallow their pain and misery. 
“Aslaug?”
“It’s Ivar. Oh, God, it’s Ivar,” the mother of his children seemed frantic, hysteric. Her breathing came out ragged.
“What about him,” Ragnar asked, trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t even know what was going on. 
“He was with Hvitserk. He was supposed to pick Ivar up from school. I don’t know what the hell they were doing, but they got into a crash. Hvitserk got out lucky with only a broken arm but Ivar- You know how fragile he is. The doctors are not sure if he’ll make it.”
Ragnar couldn’t bring himself to say much. Aslaug gave him the name of the hospital and that was that. He ended the call and quickly rushed into the closest car he could get to (Ubbe always muttered that he had too many cars), broke a couple of speed limits, and made it into the hospital.
It was a complete pain in the goddamn ass to get the workers to let him see his son, but eventually, he was escorted to a little hallway with shitty little plastic waiting chairs. Aslaug was not there at that moment. She went back to bring things for her boy when (if) he woke up. Ubbe was there, ever the responsible one, pacing back and forth, worry creased into his forehead, He always had that expression on, ever the worrier. He looked somewhat relieved when he saw Ragnar. Sigurd, to Ragnar’s surprise, was sitting on one of the chairs and crossed his arms. There was a look of worry on his pale face, and every now and then, he would look back at the sterile little room that housed his little brother. He didn’t bother to greet Ragnar. They didn’t have the best relationship (Ragnar’s fault, obviously) and Sigurd was a headstrong bastard, so there was little Ragnar could do to mend their relationship if Sigurd didn’t care to do so. Hvitserk was also sitting beside Sigurd and his face looked paralyzed in shock, fear, and worry. It had been a bit since Ragnar had seen Hvitserk in person, as his son seemed to inherit that addictive personality that Ragnar and his mother unfortunately had. He too fell into the vice of alcohol and drugs. A younger Ragnar probably would’ve blamed Hvitserk’s addictions on his lack of self-control and poor wisdom, but an older, somewhat wiser Ragnar, could sympathize with him. After all, he knew damn well that he had a part in Hvitserk’s benders. 
Hvitserk would party a lot and he was an elusive little bastard too, so he couldn’t be found unless he wanted to be found. Somehow, someway, Ivar managed to get his older brother out of hiding and force him into rehab. He was doing well for a bit, until now it seemed. 
Ragnar learned that Hvitserk was high as a kite when he was driving. Weed. He was supposed to pick up Ivar from school and bring him home.
And then this happened. 
Ragnar looked at Hvitserk, at his sunken eyes, at his too-pale skin, at his greasy long hair, and wanted to scream at him for being such a stupid, stupid fool- What the fuck made him relapse like this? 
He didn’t though. He didn’t scream at him. The horrified look on his face was enough for Ragnar to know that Hvitserk was already being punished enough by his own guilt. Ragnar could sympathize. He was a man who needed a good push to change, and for Ragnar, his push was the horrified expressions on Ubbe and Hvitserk’s faces when he tried to strangle his dealer for not giving him what he wanted. No, what he needed at that time. The girl, Yidu, quickly fled the scene and he was glad that she did. He would’ve killed her otherwise. 
Perhaps Hvitserk’s push would be this. 
Or maybe he would fall apart even further. 
Time can only tell. 
He sighed and sat next to Hvitserk, rubbing his face in his hands. Hvitserk didn’t even acknowledge him. His whole being seemed encased with ice, as he cradled his broken arm in his sling. Ragnar gently wrapped his arm around Hvitserk and Hvitserk all but sunk into his side. 
A few moments later the doctor quietly said that they could see him, but only one at a time. Ubbe went first, then Sigurd, and then Ragnar. Hvitserk didn’t move an inch. Too guilty for his part in this mess. 
Ivar’s life will never be one without complications. His youngest son was always going to have to live his life with some sort of complication. That was stamped on his head the second he was born with osteogenesis imperfecta, otherwise known as brittle bone disease. Now, Ivar was lucky in the sense that his OI wasn’t as severe as other cases, but it seemed to have taken a personal vendetta on his legs, as that was the part of him that was the most severely affected. Thanks to modern medicine and technology and whatnot, his legs are not as wasted as they could’ve been, but the breaks he suffered from them rendered him unable to walk without assistance. 
As he walked into the room, he felt as if he was dumped with a bucket of ice water. His little boy looked so small to him in that bed, in that familiar hospital gown, with all those wires and bandages attached to him. His face was covered with a breathing mask and Ragnar would think he was dead if it weren’t for the soft beeping of the machines singing in the background and the one stereotypical screen of a green line zig-zagging up and down. 
Ragnar felt overwhelmed with the same feeling that he had a million times over whenever Ivar had to go to the hospital. It never got better. He has been to hospitals so many times that he was honestly qualified enough to be a technician since he knew the machines so well. It never got any better and this time, it was worse, since this was the first time where the doctor was not entirely sure that his little boy will be ok. 
He stayed for a while and left the hospital later when the sun became occulted by night. 
He woke up the next day and went to go to the hospital but then did a detour to the old cemetery. 
It wasn’t the first time he lost a child. He knows that Ivar isn’t dead, but he knew if he would be, it would be a similar feeling to how he felt all those years ago when he lost his sweet little girl, Gyda, and how he wasn’t able to say goodbye to her because he was out chasing his two-faced dreams and making his two-faced name. That broke him the most. That he wasn’t able to say goodbye to her. If Ivar was to go, at least he would be able to cope. It wouldn’t be his first rodeo, after all. 
Sometimes, he thought about Gyda, about who she would be if she was given the chance to grow up. He sometimes had little dreams of a grown-up Gyda, who looked suspiciously like Lagertha except for dark hair and silver eyes, making him proud. In some dreams, she would jump into his arms with a diploma clutched in slender hands. In other dreams, she would proudly show off her successes in the fashion industry, as that was something he remembered his little girl obsessing over before she died. He tried to spoil her as much as he can back then, a father’s duty to his daughter, with whatever it is she wanted and that he could afford. If only he could spoil her now, with this multi-million (almost billion) dollar empire that he was able to procure with his blood, sweat, tears, and luck. A whole lot of luck. 
What would Gyda think of her old man today, now that was the question. How would she feel knowing that the father that she knew, the doting father who was always a rock in a raging ocean, ever so stalwart, was not that same father for his other kids? Gyda and Bjorn were lucky in that regard. They knew their father before he became obsessed with material life. They knew the best version of their father. And he was still that father in the first few years of Ubbe and Hvitserk’s lives, but soon afterward, he became distant and aloof. He couldn’t lie to himself. He was a bad father to his four other children. He had his moments of course, but most of the time, he was just a filthy, junky mess, and whatever relationship he could’ve had with his sons were either nipped at the bud or so fragile that eggshells would seem like titanium. 
Gyda would hate him, probably. He hated himself. He would probably continue hating himself till the end of times. For what he robbed of these poor boys, for how he left them to the wolves. If forgiveness would ever come from his sons, and Ragnar doubted it ever could, he would be able to die in the peace he never deserved. 
He sighed. He kneeled and wiped away the leaves that occulted the name on the flat marker.
Gyda Lothbrok. 
Ragnar felt guilt pierce through his heart when he saw the state of the thing. God, how long has it been since he has last been here? Or Lagertha? The stone was stained a sickly green, and some of the letters were discolored. As Ragnar looked at the marker, he thought about the more grandiose headstones that littered the cemetery. He then looked at this flat one, so unassuming and insignificant that he had to card through leaves for an entire two minutes before he could find the thing. She should’ve had a larger stone. One with an angel on it. She was an angel. 
However, it felt sordid to think about digging her back up to give her a better stone at a better plot. 
To make himself feel better, he would simply describe the headstone as humble. Yes, that. Humble. Gyda was a humble girl. 
Ivar will get the angel, then, if he doesn’t make it. He’d probably like that, considering his recent adventures in the gothic macabre. 
“Hello, Gyda…” 
His voice felt strange to him. As if it didn’t belong to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited for a while.” 
I’m sorry that I am only visiting because of the guilt I feel for my other sons. I am sorry that I am only visiting because I am not sure if my youngest, if my baby will survive. If he doesn’t, be kind to him, yes? He’s a stubborn boy. 
He didn’t say that out loud. 
The ravens kept cackling. The leaves kept stirring. Ragnar stayed there for a long time, speaking to this grave in cold Autumn before going back to the sterile haven of the hospital. 
64 notes · View notes
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.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
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
106 notes · View notes
heathendaughter · 2 years
Text
Tangled II (modern!ivar x reader)
Tumblr media
A.N.: Hey, y’all. Sorry it took me so mf long to post part 2...I've got a lot of this story mapped out, but none of you warned me how hard it can be to make those thoughts coherent on paper. Or maybe I just didn't want to believe it. Anyway, I got a little stuck and just decided to spit this out as is. As always, reader has no defining physical characteristics, they're whoever you envision them to be. Also, I’ve legit never written anything before(!!), so please feel free to offer up constructive criticism, just don’t be a dick. Thanks!
*flashbacks are in italics
Summary: Ivar and Hvitserk’s best friend (Y/N) have been together for years without fully committing to one another. After a disastrous party and drunken mistakes, relationships are reevaluated and new contenders step up to the plate. Possible eventual Hvitserk x Reader or Uhtred x Reader. I have ideas, but let me know what you like! I can maybe be swayed. :)
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: cheating, language, brief physical violence
Catch up on part one.
Both brothers stand there, momentarily stunned and stiffened by shock. “Ivar…I’m sor–,” Hvitserk starts.
“Damn, dude, you could have given me a heads up that she was here!” Ivar turns to follow you out the door, but his older brother grabs his arm.
“Wait, man. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Ivar rolls his eyes, but quickly relents. “You’re right. Tell me what you know first so I’m not walking into this one blind.”
“Well,” Hvitserk starts, only to be interrupted again as Ivar hustles to the window, pulling apart the blinds to look for you.
“Total dick move not telling me she was here, but DAMN, I’m so relieved that she ended up at your place instead of that other bastard’s,” Ivar lets out in a rush. “I know I fucked up big time, but at least she didn’t run off with him. I have to believe we can fix this again. She’s definitely pissed, but you always have a way of calming her down like no one else can. Thanks for keeping an eye on her last night, bro. I really appreciate –”
“IVAR,” Hvitserk yells.
His younger brother whips his gaze away from the window. “What?” Ivar questions.
“I don’t think you should thank me for anything that happened last night.”
“Here, come inside. No crying on the stoop,” Hvitserk tells you.
You let him grab your hand, gently pulling you inside. Once the door closes, you both stare at each other in silence. He breaks it first. “I’m sorry,” he starts. “I’m sorry he hurt you again.”
“Don’t apologize for him.”
“He’s my little brother and our friendship is the reason you met him in the first place. I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other while he waits for you to respond. “So,” he asks, “are you actually done with him this time?”
You chew on your lip, willing yourself not to cry, to be stronger than the shattered woman Ivar has made you feel tonight. “I’m gonna need a drink,” you say.
“What do you mean by that?” Ivar asks. When Hvitserk hesitates, he continues. “Oh shit, when did she get here? She did spend the night with Uhtred, didn’t she? Son of a bitch.”
“Ivar, no,” his brother insists. “She slept here last night.”
“Okay, good.” He tilts his head and arches an eyebrow when Hvitserk refuses to look him in the eye. “Or…not good?” he questions.
“I’m really sorry,” Hvitserk offers. His eyes flick up to meet Ivar’s, just in time to catch his little brother’s fist flying at his face.
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Ivar screams. “This has to be a joke. There’s no fucking way you would do this to me!”
Hvitserk stands up straight, wiping the blood now trickling from the split in his cheekbone. “It just happened,” he explains, his eyes pleading with his brother to understand. “It shouldn’t have, but it did and I’m so sorry.”
Ivar is pacing now, hands balled into fists held tightly to the rungs of his crutches. “You? Of all people, she hooks up with you?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Ivar whips back toward his brother.
“It means that you’re the underachieving, underperforming, and underwhelming brother. Ubbe is dependable, Bjorn is successful, and even Sigurd’s dumb ass is supposedly talented. You have nothing to show for everything Mom and Dad gave us and nothing to offer the world except your loyalty as a brother, which apparently means NOTHING anymore!” Ivar seethes.
Hvitserk barks out a cruel laugh. “I’m nothing? Then congratulations, you’re less than nothing. She didn’t end up crying on my doorstep for no reason. She came here because, at the end of the day, she knows I’ll be here. Whether you want to or not, you have to face the fact that you are the cause of all your misfortunes. Not me, not Dad, not Lagertha or Bjorn. YOU, Ivar. Start taking some responsibility for your shortcomings and full-on fuck ups or you will always be as alone as you feel right now.”
As Ivar aggressively starts toward him, Hvitserk puts a hand up. “You only get one free one, brother.”
“You and I are not brothers,” Ivar spits, pointing his finger toward Hvitserk’s face. “And after what you did last night, I’m not sure we ever were. Not in any way that counts.”
Hvitserk sighs, a defeated slump making its way to his shoulders. “I am truly sorry you feel that way. We both made mistakes last night, but I don’t think our pain is most important here—”
“Save it,” Ivar cuts him off and stomps out the same door you had left through not long before.
You’re not sure what time it is or how many of these fancy cocktails you’ve had since you got to Hvitserk’s. The two of you are curled up on his couch under a heated blanket while you reminisce on your initial weeks of friendship years before.
“HEY,” you exclaim, “I was NOT standoffish! I was insecure! Sorry you can’t read teen girl body language.”
“Ha! Shows what you know, I was an expert in teen girl body language…if you catch my drift,” he says while playfully nudging you across the couch.
“Yeah, consider the drift caught and immediately returned to sender. Perv.” you laugh.
“Okay, okay, not my finest moment.”
“As opposed to which fine moments?”
“Ouch, Y/N! Fine! I’ll play the role of punching bag for you tonight.”
At his indirect reminder of the betrayal you’d experienced at the hands of his younger brother, the mood in the room immediately loses its playfulness. Unsure of how to respond, you look down at your glass, suddenly intrigued by its contents.
“Hey,” he says as he reaches one hand toward yours, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
You grab the hand he offers, intertwining your fingers on your blanket-covered lap. “No, you’re right. You are a rare bright spot in my life and I keep treating you like my emotional safety blanket. It isn’t fair to you. Who knows what I interrupted here tonight when Uhtred had to call you because I’m a drunken mess? I didn’t even think about how I was ruining your night, I just told him to call you.”
“Don’t even start with that,” he responds, sternly. “I’m glad you know that you can always call me. I didn’t have anyone over when you called and, even if I did, they would have been safely in a cab home as soon as I knew you needed me. And as for ‘ruining my night?’ I’m having a drink on my couch with my best friend. Does that sound ruined to you?”
A million potential responses run through your head at his words. Thank you…I appreciate you…I’m so glad we’re friends…your brother is a pile of dog shit…so many potential responses, yet what comes out of your mouth is: “Care for a lesson in adult woman body language?”
Punching bags? Adult woman body language? As you sit in the back of your uber and dig through your memories of the night before, you can’t help but cringe at your words and actions. Ivar may have kicked off the night of mistakes, but apparently you finished it. According to the bruises blossoming along your inner thighs, it seems like you also took your punching bag metaphor into the literal realm. You close your eyes and try to regulate your breathing, knowing that you’ve got nothing but bullshit to deal with now. Going home to a place you share with your ex, having an awkward-but-hopefully-not-friendship-ending conversation with Hvitserk, fighting off the world’s greatest hangover. Yep. Complete and utter bullshit.
Before you know it, your driver is saying your name as his car idles outside your apartment. You thank him as you drag yourself out of the backseat, looking toward the building and wondering how long it’ll be before Ivar shows up. And if he knows yet. And if he and Hvitserk have killed each other. Or if they’re somewhere together talking about how pathetic you are for being the messy idiot who slept with two brothers.
“NO,” you say forcefully to yourself, needing an audible interruption to your negative self-talk. “I did not make those decisions alone.”
You gather your courage on the elevator ride up to your unit, preparing to face Ivar in case he somehow made it back before you. You twist your key in the lock and wait, listening for the sound of his crutches moving toward the door. When you hear nothing, you push it open hesitantly while trying to appear confident. All the lights are off. Ivar isn’t sitting at the dining room table staring daggers into your soul. The coast is clear.
The anxiety you’re currently experiencing is answer enough on how to proceed. You aren’t ready for this confrontation. You may have gotten drunk and slept with Hvitserk, but you were technically broken up because you caught him cheating on you at a party being attended by all your friends. Blinking back tears, you pack as much as you can into your largest suitcase and go.
When Ivar comes charging into the apartment twenty minutes later, he’s too late.
@istorkyou @youbloodymadgenius
66 notes · View notes
disasterofastory · 2 years
Text
Wedding night (Hvitserk x Reader)
Wedding night
modern!Hvitserk x Reader
Warnings: smut
Summary: You and Hvitserk find each other at the wedding.
Tumblr media
The song is your cousin's favorite. Margrethe dreamed about her wedding since you were kids, and this song was always on the playlist. You can feel the beat through the wall as your whole weight is pressed against it. If you focus enough, you can hear Bjorn's booming voice among the others. He is drunk. Everybody is drunk since it's almost midnight and the happy couple ran away on their honeymoon.
You almost laugh when the song changes.
"Are you really going to fuck me in rhythm with the songs?" You ask Hvitserk.
He chuckles. His breath is hot on the soft skin of your neck.
"I can't help it," he replies, twisting his hips to reach a new angle.
Your arms are around his neck, and your legs rock behind his ass as he moves.
"Why did I agree to this?" You ask him, still amused at the whole situation.
"Because Margrethe told you I have a big dick."
"Oh, Gods, don't say my cousin's name while you fuck me!"
"You decided to fuck your cousin's ex at her wedding in the coatroom. You can't criticize me."
You can hear the drunken laugh in his voice.
"It's some revenge to you?" You continue to question him, adjusting your hands on his shoulders.
"No," he shrugs. "The dress looks good on you, and I thought, yes, I would like to fuck you."
"How romantic," you sigh sarcastically.
"What's wrong with you, by the way?" He asks, moving away from your neck to look at you. "Are you not enjoying it?" He nods down where his cock disappears in you with every thrust.
"I can't cum like this when I'm drunk," you confess, laughing.
The room feels dizzy around you. You move your hips at the beat of the music as much as you can in this position.
Hvitserk groans, letting you go to stand up. He is still hard, and you didn't cum yet either. The pink bridesmaid dress is pulled up on your waist, and your tits are on display in front of his roaming eyes.
"I will suck you off if you eat me out," you offer.
Your voice is so casual about it Hvitserk can't help but laugh.
The carpet is soft under you as you kneel down before Hvitserk. The man's laugh dies on his throat, watching you reach out to him. Your fingers curl around his cock. His skin is soft and warm under your touch. A grunt leaves his lips as your grip tightens around him. You move your hand up and down on him for a few seconds before you lean closer and lick him up from the base. He tastes like you and him.
His fingers find their way through your hair, grabbing but not pulling on your locks. He loves the feeling of your warmth around his cock.
"You are good," he says breathlessly. "Really good," he grunts when he feels the repeating flicks of your tongue.
"And you don't even know my superpower," you tell him, taking him out of your mouth for a moment, and both of you chuckle.
Being with Hvitserk feels easy even if you don't know each other that much. Of course, maybe it's because of the alcohol in your system, but it doesn't really matter. You didn't even cum yet, and it's already your best fuck just because of the easy and comfortable atmosphere.
You take him into your mouth once again until he slides down on your throat. He stretches you out as you stay that way for a moment, focusing on your breathing through your nose.
"Holy-," Hvitserk gasps, staring down on you as his length disappears. "Where is your gag reflex?" He asks, almost panicked, and you need your every strength not to laugh with your mouth full of his cock. You smooth up your hand on his pants-covered thigh, the muscles tense under your palm.
You move your head back so you can suck and lick him comfortably while one of your hands reaches his balls, massaging him softly.
You look up at him. His blue eyes are hazy as he watches you. He leans against the wall with one hand while the other is still in your hair. His lips are parted and swollen from your kisses. Grunts and moans break through his chest, and his hips slowly but surely start to move on their own accord.
"You can fuck my face if you want," you offer him, changing your mouth to your hand. His cock is wet from pre-cum and saliva.
"Are you sure?" He asks, he tries to act casual about it, but you can hear the excitement in his voice.
"Sure," you shrug, taking him into your mouth again.
And he does. He straightens himself, sliding his other hand into your locks too to grab you better. You open your mouth, watching out to your teeth as you hold onto his thighs.
He moves in and out of you with fever. The beat of the music from outside is long forgotten. Saliva runs down on your chin, and wetness pools between your legs as his blue eyes bore into yours.
"I will cum," he grunts hoarsely as a warning.
He let you take the lead once again, grabbing him at the base to continue to suck him. You can feel him cum under your fingertips before he shots into your mouth.
"Oh, Gods," he moans, throwing his head back.
You help him come down from his high more gently. He needs some time to pull himself together.
"I didn't though you will swallow," he states still breathlessly.
"I didn't have a better idea," you confess as the laugh breaks through your throat.
Hvitserk watches your laughing form for a few seconds as he helps you up from the floor. His arm hugs your waist, pulling you closer. He feels something, seeing your drunken happiness and not just because you gave him the best blowjob ever.
"So, how about your pussy?" He asks, smirking.
300 notes · View notes
bjornswoman · 1 year
Text
Lies
Tumblr media
Pairing: Modern!Hvitserk x Fem!Reader.
Genre: Modern!au, series, drama, angst, romance, smut, fluff.
Summary: After your breakup with Hvitserk he leaves for England without knowing about a matter. A child in fact. Years after he comes back, invading your life and all the lies come to the surface.
Warnings: NSFW, smut, strong language, jealousy, mentions of pregnancy, lies, a lot of drama.
Note:
This series are based on a turkish TV series called You Knock on My Door (Sen Çal Kapımı) and it contains some stuff from there.
This is a remake of the first two parts of the same series which I wrote some time ago. You can find the first two parts here.
Also, I want to inform you that the new parts and the next ones will be quite different from the first ones.
Chapters:
Prologue
Part I
151 notes · View notes
jadelynlace · 1 year
Text
Ink Drinker⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 14
series master post is here.
synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.
pairing: Modern Ivar x F!Reader
***author’s note: I am...just so very sorry (not sorry) for this chapter. But let me remind you, if we can survive chapter five, we can get through this, too! Maybe. The divider is by @firefly-graphics​ (Damn, it feels good to write again.)
word count: 1600+ words
Tumblr media
You made a promise. You took an oath. No man is left behind. And every day, every time the tones sing, those words ring in your mind. Teasing you, poking you, solely to remind you that if today is not the day you need to practice them. Tomorrow might be.
But today is.
Hues of orange, canary yellow, dance through your vision and your mind. Deafening under the gear, the smoldering and constant check of your oxygen supply. Now it’s all black—a total eclipse and you’d likely see more with your eyes closed. It’s a mental silence like no other, moving the motions through the burning structure as you scan and rescan every room and every last movement, trying to decipher if the ash is from the wood, or the burnt skin of a human. If what you grab is a bedpost, or a limb.
Adrenaline pumps through your ears and you’re crawling through soot as you grow warm from the fueled rush. Beads of sweat under the mask and you’re imagining the cold pool at Floki’s house, where you’ll dive into once your shift is over. Once the fire is out and you’re safely back at the station. But despite the pleasantry in your mind you’re still clearing the rooms, mumbling behind the gear and trying to sing a steady beat of the first song that comes to your head for strength. Structure fires were never the highlight of your career.
Moving again you hear more nonsense on your radio, too many jurisdictions on the same scene all screaming where there is no incident command yet established—even though you and your team were the first crews on scene, the area should be yours to orchestrate, but it's not. Even through all of the protocols, endlessly memorized in your head, they mean nothing in the chaos. You remind yourself: knee, knee, one hand to support, one hand to swing your halligan bar.
Cracklings start beneath the heaviness of the boots and there’s a loud bang that echoes through your head, but the thought of if it's external or internal causes even more pain before you’re through a rush of air and falling. And everything becomes darker.
You roll; out of pure instinct, you roll to your left and under the smoke you're met by an obstacle. Before you can swing your axe towards it, your hand finds another hand and the pounding in your head increases. Slowly, you reach, finding the size of the palm to rival yours and its familiar—it’s large like Ivar’s. Despite the heat, the flames, the adrenaline, you go cold. It’s not Ivar’s palm that’s attached to the unconscious body next to you. Logically, you know that. It’s Hvitserk’s.
“Y/L/N to fire control, we have a mayday—repeat, firefighter down. Firefighter down,” You all but scream. That oath sings to you suddenly.
There’s no time, you try to tell yourself. There’s no time and you hear a call of sirens start outside. Blowing through the city as everyone’s blood runs cold from your signal. On all fours you bend, you pull Hvitserk towards you, with you, and curse his size.
“Why are you so fucking tall?” You hiss to yourself as you’re pulling his arm—pulling as you crawl and tears start in your eyes. This isn’t how you imagined it.
Hvitserk is meant to grow old with Thora, after taking a culinary tour of the world in his retirement. He’s meant to be chasing the children he would have; the grandchildren he would have. He’s meant to pass his knowledge on to the next group of recruits. He’s meant to be there with Ivar, with you, through thick and thin. He’s meant to fight Aiden for the best man spot at the wedding. He’s not meant to perish in the job that keeps him whole. He still owes you for last week’s lunch. He’d be furious if you let him go to the grave with a debt.
When you’re clear of the smoke, clear of the flames, you stand. You stand so quickly you could break concrete with the force of your helmet. Hvitserk is over your back and you start—putting all your weight on to your thighs as the pledge sings in your head.
Daylight comes back and the entire crew sees you carry the man out, twice—three times your size but he’s there splayed over your back. Time slows as you walk from the smoldering structure; as one boot stomps after the other. Your arm’s twisted, pulling on whatever part of Hvitserk you can as you steady him. As you carry him to safety. As you prove to every single last person who doubted you in this career.
Then, suddenly you drop. Your knees buckle and you meet the concrete before you roll, leaving him. You scramble, pulling layers off, his mask off and tossing it away with yours. Gear, covers, shields, battle armor and you scream:
“He’s not breathing!”
Tearing through his gear you pull at shirt’s buttons, a rush of adrenaline seizing your insides and you should be waiting for the proper tools. Take off your damn gloves. But there’s no time now. You’re racing against the clock—against the science of the human body because you know how precious each second is. The only thing you hear, the only sound that registers is the metal of his badge clattering against the hot assault. The others gather, pulling equipment from the first in bag: oxygen tubing, AED pads, and the sun catches the metal of the laryngoscope.
Out of instinct your hands push, fingers curling and you start compressions even as you’re directed to wait, as your chief tries to pull you away because you’re hurt too. You just can’t feel it yet. Blood leaks from a gash somewhere on your head but your hands don’t stop. They don’t stop as you beg, as you pull your arms away from your boss’s grip again while pleading with the Gods—any one who will listen. Not to take Hvitserk. Not here, not now. Not like this. How would you even tell Ivar?
You look at his lifeless body as you continue the steady beat, counting through tears as you perform CPR on the one person you never, ever wanted to perform it on. But you do.
Because you took an oath. And today is the day you practice it.
*
Ivar bursts through the emergency room doors, strength nearly flinging them off of the wall and in his worry, his face has morphed to the scowl he perfected for a past life. Instead of mumbling to the front desk, he sees you over on the far wall, sitting on the ground, four by four gauze pad tapped to your forehead. You’re staring blankly at your boots.
“What happened?” Ivar asks quickly, words strung out in one breath and you don’t even look up. Only then does he notice Hvitserk’s badge in your hands. “Baby, what happened?” Ivar tries again and he sinks to your level. His legs tell him to move differently, to move much more slowly to meet the tile. Not this quick rush that’ll leave bruises in a few hour’s time.
“Y/N,” Ivar says sternly. “Where’s my brother?”
Those words pull you back, they suck you out of the smoke, out of the soot and the ash, the flames that danced around where you crawled. They take the sweat from your brow, they stop you agonizing over every move. Every motion. If you had just been faster.
No matter how hard you would try, you always went over every call. Every detail. You remember the first person who passed in your care; you remember when you had to call your first cardiac arrest. When medical control gave you the go, and you had to look an old woman in the eyes to tell her. You caught her as she sobbed over her husband of nearly fifty years. You remember the first infant. You can’t save them all. Everyone says that; those words have become meaningless. They crush with nothingness; they don’t soothe like they should. Because even if you can’t save them all, damn it, you think you should. You think you can.
Maybe those words are never meant to soothe? Maybe they’re meant to remind you—the true weight of this job. ‘Your life is worth my time.’ That’s what the company shirts used to say. Maybe they’re there to stop you from being eaten alive by guilt.
You shake your head to Ivar.
“I carried him out,” You finally say. That’s when you break; that’s when the weight of the situation finally comes down on top of you. Not a warm weight, like Ivar offers in the dim morning sun. A weight like none other; raw realization. “I carried him out,” You repeat, “I performed CPR on him. I brought him back,” You peep.
Those words strike Ivar. Without a second thought he’s around you, holding you on the floor as the emergency room bustles around the two of you. But to him, you’re alone. Locked in a tower, just the two of you. He remembers doubting you, once. Almost asking you over the game of vodka-fueled Truth or Dare if you’d slept with his brother. Now he understands just how deep the bond goes between the two of you. Strangers become brothers in a fox hole. Today was no different.
You cry into Ivar’s shirt, cry from the trauma, cry from the overwhelming realization that not only did you drag Hvitserk from the fire. You saved his life. You brought him back so that he can grow old with Thora, so that he can have the culinary travels in retirement. So that he can pay you back for last week’s lunch.
All because you took that oath.
Tumblr media
Tags:
@smileysam13579  @dreamtherapy @angelofthenightposts @unbetaedimagines  @readsalot73 @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee  @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @prettyinpayne @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @fatedwithmbc​ @hashimily​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @love-all-things-writing​  @theanxietyqueen17​ @trip2themoon​ @tgrrose​ @synnersaint @kataphine​ @prepare4trouble​ @abbiii72​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @93xdiagonxalley​ @ivarisms​ @nordicshieldmadien @ironynoticony​  @ivarsgard​ @cosmicmerbabe​ @smears-and-spots​ @kaybee87​ @t4medicroe​ @noway4u​ @southernbe​ @ivarhoegh​ @anakindoesntlikesand​ @mymindfuckery​
*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*
full masterlist can be found here.
48 notes · View notes
kaybee87 · 2 years
Text
The Holiday
Warnings: none that I’m aware of!
What happens when you meet the Ragnarsons on holiday. Vikings modern AU. Hvitserk and reader because I’m in my Hvitserk feels these days.
The sea was freezing as your nephew splashed passed you urging you further into the water with him, you’d been expecting a lot more warmth from the crystal water and the bikini you’d chosen wasn’t doing much to cover the obvious signs of your chilly state. You’d come away with your parents and your older sister and her family, your brother in law and your nephew and niece. Sometimes it was a bit awkward being the only single adult on the trip but you needed a break and some decent weather, plus you loved spending time with your family. Whilst you messed about in the sea with your nephew you were completely unaware of the eyes on you from a balcony at your hotel that overlooked the private beach.
“Careful little brother your eyes are going to pop out of your head,” Ubbe laughed slapping Hvisterk on his back. His other brothers all joined in with the laughter and he didn’t realise they were aware of his staring, he’d been watching you for quite a while trying to figure out the dynamics of your group, he’d guessed the older couple were your parents but then there was you, another woman, a man and two children. His family were very open minded and he was trying to work out if that was the case for you all too. “What do you think their situation is?” He asked no one in particular. It was his eldest brothers girlfriend who answered him “she’s with her sisters family and her parents”. His head rounded so fast at the news “how do you know that?” “I spoke to her earlier at breakfast, seems a nice girl” Kat shrugged like this information meant nothing but to him it was a green light. “Volleyball anyone?” Everyone rolled their eyes seeing right through his plan.
You were laying on your towel your eyes flicking between your niece building sandcastles close by and your nephew playing in the water when your elder sister suddenly elbowed you in the ribs. “Hey, what was that for?” “Just seeing if you thought the view has improved?” “Eh?” You looked over to your left to see a group of people had turned up at some point, there was a woman assisting two children with all their beach toys, you recognised her from breakfast this morning you’d exchanged a few words whilst waiting for the completely useless contraption that was apparently meant to toast your bread! Sitting beside her on a blanket was a guy with dark hair pulled back into a bun and sunglasses over his eyes and a killer jawline. Just in front of them were four more men who seemed to be discussing the rules of whatever game they were about to engage in and had also been blessed in the looks department. All of them were tall and muscular, although the one who stood out to you the most looked a little softer than the others, he had dirty blonde hair braided back and a little scruff on his face. As if he knew you were watching he looked directly at you, you blushed realising you’d been caught and a confident smirk appeared on his face.
As the day progressed the four children naturally gravitated towards each other and your eyes constantly roamed over the men and their volleyball game, every time your eyes met the dirty blondes, who you’d learn from their shouts name was Hvitserk, there seemed to be a little spark. You noticed that the dark haired man had been sitting on the blanket by himself the whole time, so feeling a little bold you decided to take a stroll over and plonk yourself down next to him. “Who’s winning?” You asked pleasantly. He briefly turned his head towards you and never once dropping his scowl he replied “I don’t keep score, they always cheat anyway”. You smiled, discreetly taking in the leg braces that were obviously keeping him from joining in. “I’m sure they’d love you to play,” he smirked. You laughed lightly “I couldn’t think of anything worse!! Sweaty sports in this weather and sand in every orifice no thank you”. He looked slightly taken aback by your bluntness and you couldn’t help but chuckle that you’d manage to dent his cool demeanour. The next thing you felt was someone falling in a heap across your legs. In an apparent attempt to hit the ball Hvitserk had all but dived into your lap. “You know if you wanted my attention I’m sure there’s a better way than breaking my legs,” you laughed and pushed him face first into the send. This earned a deep bellow from the man next to you and whoops and cheers from the rest of the men.
From your time at the beach and your conversations with the dark haired man who had told you his name was Ivar you’d learnt that he was the youngest of the five men. The four older men were his brothers, Sigurd who he seemed to have an extremely tense relationship with, Hvitserk who had clearly caught your eye, Ubbe and then Bjorn who was also accompanied by his girlfriend Kat and his two children from a previous relationship Hali and Asa. You’d spent quite a while all together on the beach with the children playing, the women chatting and the men swimming or playing some sort of sports.
You were now in your room getting ready for the evening, you were lucky in the fact that you had your own room, your parents were in another and your sister’s family in one together. The plan was to all have dinner together and then head to the hotel’s entertainment area to see what was on this evening. You were feeling the need to make a little more effort than usual and you were pretty sure it had something to do with the hazel eyed man who had spent the day winking in your direction.
You’d opted for a little black dress not too tight and just the right side of classy, you didn’t want to go overboard in this environment. Your make up was minimal as you’d managed to get a slight tan on your face which was giving your complexion a boost and you’d worn your hair loose. You hoped it was eye catching enough and were looking forward to the evening ahead. After meeting your family in the lobby you walked into the restaurant altogether and noticed your new group of friends were already in and enjoying the food. Hvitserk was eating some sort of meat joint directly from the bone, you had no idea why this flipped your stomach the way it did you were sure if it was anyone else it would have disgusted you but the sight seem to draw out something slightly animalistic from within. You noticed Ivar wave in your direction and you reciprocated with a small shy wave. This move seemed to bring about shock from the rest of his table mates and you weren’t exactly sure why.
Concentrating on your meal seemed particularly difficult this evening and you were happy to be slightly on the outside of your parents conversation and instead enjoyed some playfulness with your niece and nephew. You helped them in getting their food from the buffet and talked about all the things they were enjoying about being on holiday. When you were all finished you moved onto the entertainment area only to find your new found friends had saved space for you all at their table. You all had a few drinks and enjoyed watch the children dance at the mini disco, after that your parents offered to take all the children back to their room so you could all continue your evening, a fact Bjorn and Kat were particularly grateful for as they hadn’t had the luck of grandparents coming along on the trip. You and your sister found Kat especially easy to get along with and spent some time chatting and drinking, Hvitserk kept throwing charged looks your way which had started to make you squirm in your seat. Ivar seemed to enjoy interrupting these moments by leaning in closer for you to hear something he was saying or moving directly into your line of sight, you could tell this was all done to annoy his brother from the smirk on his face and the utter displeasure written all over Hvitserk’s. Sigurd seem to be the quietest of the group and only really piped up when he had something to say to piss Ivar off, this had to be interrupted on several occasions by Bjorn or Ubbe before it got out of hand completely and Kat sent a “you get used to it” shrug in your direction.
After a while your sister, brother in law, Bjorn and Kat decided it was probably time to relieve your parents of their babysitting duties albeit with some reluctance on the men’s part. Your sister gave you a quick wink and encouraged you to stay put. Hvitserk sauntered off to the bar and came back with a tray full of drinks one of which was some elaborate cocktail with straws and umbrellas which he passed in your direction. “What’s this?” You asked, taking the drink from his hand, where he seemed to let his fingers linger a little longer than necessary. “It’s a sex on the beach,” he grinned like a small boy. This caused Ubbe to roll his eyes, Sigurd to snigger and Ivar to practically spit his drink across the table muttering something about him being unbelievable. In your ever increasingly tipsy state you just chuckled at his obvious attempt to seduce you, clearly subtlety wasn’t his thing.
The music was loud, the free drinks were flowing and your body was starting to feel like a live wire, Hvitserk was talking about something but all you could concentrate on was how close your bodies were and the fact that his lips were basically grazing your ear in order for him to be heard. It was when you got up to dance and your legs almost gave we that Ubbe, ever the responsible brother called time on your evening and took it upon himself to escort you back to your room. You reached out towards Hvitserk but Ubbe gently guided you away “uh uh not tonight princess maybe when you’re a little more sober, off we go”.
You awoke to the sound of banging and you weren’t completely sure if it was the door or your head, when you finally dragged yourself from the bed and towards the noise you found your sister staring back at you. She couldn’t hold in the laughter “heavy night was it? You alone?” She asked before pushing passed you anyway and doing a quick scan of your room. “Yes, to both!” “Well it’s time to eat sunshine, let’s go.”
Walking into the restaurant you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about the night before, why did you have to get so drunk in front of people you barely knew? What was more annoying was that sitting at a table not far from your family were the Ragnarsons looking considerably fresh considering how much you’d all been drinking the night before. You gave a small nod vaguely in their direction and sank into your seat opposite your smirking brother in law.
You may feel like shit but you sure as hell weren’t about to look like it, so wearing the best bikini you owned you walked straight to the edge of the pool and dived in. The temperature was a bit of a shock to the system but just what you needed to liven yourself up, plus the satisfaction you got when you saw Hvitserk’s open mouthed stare and Ivar reaching over to physically close it for him was so worth it. He wasn’t the only one looking at you but you didn’t notice that.
Hvitserk audibly groaned as you exited the pool and batted Ivar’s hand away when he closed his mouth for him. He didn’t see his brother staring as he turned towards him, “why did you have to be so sensible last night? I didn’t even get a chance to kiss her!” He whined at Ubbe. “Because she wasn’t in a fit state to be sure”. “I think it’s because you like her too Ubbe, you wanted to play the hero,” Ivar interjected. “Oh gods do they always go for the same women?” Kat muttered to Bjorn who just laughed loudly. “Maybe we should ask her who she likes? It could be any of us,” Sigurd spoke up. “Really? You too? You’ve got no chance Sigurd,” Ivar sneered at his brother. “What and you think you have?” At this point Bjorn’s hand clamped down on Ivar’s shoulder to stop him throwing himself at Sigurd and Kat just rolled her eyes so used to their drama at this point that she didn’t even bother to get involved. Hvitserk felt weird, he wasn’t usually bothered by his brothers’ interest in women, not even if it was the same one as him but this was different he felt jealous. No he felt scared, what if you didn’t choose him?
You walked up to the bar to get something to drink and found Ubbe already there, “thank you for last night I was erm a little drunk”. “A little?” He laughed “but there’s no need to thank me”. You just gave him a small smile before you felt hands on your waist. “Good morning beautiful, are you avoiding me?” It was Hvitserk and your heart had picked up speed with his close proximity. He smelt so good and it took you a minute to realise he was still waiting for your response. “Er no sorry just feeling a little tender this morning”. You pulled back a bit, giving yourself some distance so your brain could actually engage. You all walked out of the bar to find your families had all merged into one large space at the side of the pool and when you saw the look on your mum and sisters’ faces you knew this had been their doing.
Sitting on your lounger, you enjoyed watching the guys in the pool with the kids, playing games, throwing them around, just general silliness that had the children laughing continuously. Ivar was sat to your right taking pictures with a camera that looked a bit too technical for your liking and Kat came walking over with a tray full of drinks, she handed you yours and you pulled a face at the taste of alcohol you weren’t sure you were ready for that yet. “Girls come on water polo”. Maybe you were going to need that drink after all.
Before you had chance to respond, Hvitserk bounded up to you like a very excitable very wet puppy, you half expected him to shake water all over you. “Come on, you can be on my shoulders”. “I don’t think we need to be on each other’s shoulders for water polo Serk”. He smirked at the use of the nickname you’d picked up from his brothers. “You do for this game,” he winked. So that’s how you ended up in the pool on Hvitserk’s shoulders, your sister on her husbands, Kat on Bjorn’s, leaving Sigurd on Ubbe’s which neither of them seemed particularly pleased about. You called Ivar as referee, not only because he wasn’t playing but also because you knew he wouldn’t take any shit! After a lot of messing about and more splashing and dunking than anything else Ivar called the game a draw and you all dropped down from your partner’s shoulders, only Hvitserk didn’t seem too keen on letting you go. He managed to slip you down until he was holding you against his front, your legs around his waist. “You know I can swim right?” You teased him, “you should do you spent enough time watching me earlier”. His cheeks turned slightly pink at being caught out. “You noticed that huh?” You just nodded in response so he continued “then I guess you also noticed I wasn’t the only one”. At this he seemed to close up and he put you down and swam to he edge of the pool hoisting himself out.
Feeling deflated you plopped yourself down on the lounger next to Ivar, you could see he was a bit of a moody fucker but he was fast becoming your friend and you enjoyed chatting to him. “What’s up?” He sighed as if he already knew the answer and you recounted your prior conversation with Hvitserk. “Ah well he happens to be right, it would seem that three out of five of us would like to get in your pants. One is obviously not Bjorn he’s very much loved up as you can see”. You followed where he was pointing only to find him and Kat cuddled up on one lounger. “And unfortunately for you, it’s also not me,” he smiled. “I don’t know whether to be offended or not,” you laughed. “I like you, I don’t like a lot of people and I don’t have a lot of friends, so I’d rather not lose friendship over sex”. You couldn’t help the big grin that spread across your face, you were happy to have connected with Ivar and you knew his words were true just by how shocked his family were that he was getting along so well with you. The bigger problem however was that you had three men, three brothers none the less, who were interested and you really weren’t sure that you wanted to be the cause of any family rift.
“Let’s go to a club,” Hvitserk slammed his glass on the table as if this idea was worthy of some sort of prize. When no one responded he turned his attention to you, he let his hand drop onto your knee and pleaded his case directly into your ear and well if your body didn’t just want to give the man anything he wanted. “Yeah a club sounds good, we can dance,” you were suddenly more enthusiastic at the the thought that Hvitserk would be even closer to you. Once you’d voiced your agreement the others got on board pretty quickly and before you knew it you were all squashed into a taxi on your way to one of the local clubs.
The music was loud and you all had to shout to hear each other but the atmosphere was great. You felt a large hard sprawled on the bottom of your back and you turned to see Ubbe which caused you to blush, he guided you towards the bar where Ivar was already yelling his order to the barman. As you took a look around you couldn’t help but notice how much female attention the boys were getting but they were either completely blind to it or so used to it they paid no attention. You hadn’t been there long when Sigurd and Ivar found themselves some female company and you sent a smirk in Ivar’s direction. Now that you were alone with the two brothers that had shown you the most interest in you the tension felt stifling, a song you recognised came over the speakers and you used this as an excuse to escape. You jumped up and headed towards the dance floor, a quick “I love this song” thrown over your shoulder. Attempting to throw yourself into the music you lost sight of the boys for a while but when you felt hands on your hips you expected it to be one of them, only to turn and find a stranger’s face above yours. Pulling away you shook your head to show your disinterest but he wasn’t getting the message, his grip tightening on your waist, you looked around for help but couldn’t see your way through the packed bodies. You started to panic but although you’d lost sight of all your friends they clearly hadn’t lost sight of you and the next thing you knew you were pulled into Hvitserk’s chest while Ubbe and Ivar stood between you and your unwanted guest, the latter almost salivating maliciously. Sigurd appeared out of nowhere with a quick “time to go” and led you all swiftly from the club.
When you arrived back at the hotel all you wanted to do was go to your room but you were yet to completely untangle yourself from Hvitserk, he felt safe and after your brief moment in the club that was exactly what you needed. “Come, I’ll walk you back,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. Ivar looked at you for reassurance that you were ok and you gave a confirmatory nod before allowing Hvitserk to lead you off. It felt too soon that you reached your door and you looked up with tears ready to fall. “Stay?” You squeaked. Hvitserk smiled and nodded and you led him into your room. You suddenly felt very shy but you told him to make himself at home whilst you went into the bathroom to remove your make up, brush your teeth, change your clothes and pee. When you come out he was laying up against the headrest in just his boxers and he lifted the sheet to encourage you in with him. You crawled into the bed and cuddled up against him, your need for comfort squashing your initial embarrassment. “Thank you, for tonight and for this” you waved your hand to gesture at your current situation. “Are you kidding? You don’t need to thank me for stopping some dickhead who can’t take no for an answer, or for cuddling. I’m a big cuddler”. You chuckled and curled in tighter to fall asleep.
Blinking your eyes you were vaguely aware of a body below yours, you opened them to find you were sprawled across Hvitserk’s warm torso, you couldn’t help but inhale his scent and felt grateful you’d asked him to stay. “Morning,” his voice was deep and raspy from lack of use and it sent a shiver through you, if he noticed he didn’t mention it. “Morning, you want the first shower?” “It’s all yours I’ll wait”. It felt oddly domesticated to be showering knowing he was on the other side of the door waiting for you. You were fully dressed when you came out of the bathroom and made a start on your hair. When he reappeared he was wearing a towel low on his hips and beads of water were travelling down his chest, you tried but failed to hide a slight gasp whilst he watched you braid your hair. You don’t know why you’d chosen to braid it today but you felt it probably had something to do with his and his brothers hairstyle of choice. “Could you do mine?” He sounded uncharacteristically shy when he asked. “Of course,” you smiled encouraging his own smile to form. You knelt on the bed and patted the space in front of you and began working on his braids, it felt remarkably intimate for something so mundane and you’re pretty sure you dragged it out longer than was necessary.
Walking into the restaurant you spotted your families sitting together once again, as soon as Hvitserk noticed he took your hand in his. You knew he was staking his claim but you didn’t seem to care, Ivar’s words about three of his brothers being interested in you suddenly came to mind and you almost pulled your hand away not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings. However when you looked at the table neither Sigurd or Ubbe seemed particularly put out and so you stayed as you were. Plopping down next to each other at the table you were instantly bombarded with questions about the encounter with the stranger in the club and the worry coming from your parents made you glare around the table seeking out who had opened their mouths. Ivar pointed at Sigurd childishly and you threw him a “what the hell” look. He did have the good grace to look sheepish and you turned back to reassure your family that it was nothing and you’d had four knights in white armour defending both you and your honour.
“We leave tomorrow you know,” Hvitserk was talking quietly directing his words solely to you. You felt deflated “you do? I didn’t realise. We have a few more days here but it won’t be the same without you”. Dread filled your stomach at the possibilities, nothing had actually happened between you not even a kiss but it was hard to deny there was something between you, you weren’t sure whether you were supposed to walk away and just chalk it up to a budding holiday romance or keep in touch. That only seemed like prolonging the agony, you didn’t even live in the same country, how could something that hadn’t even started manage without that sort of distance?
The Ragnarsons’ last day felt clouded by the thought of them leaving, even your mum was feeling the strain who had enjoyed playing Grandma to all four children and was sure to be back on your case about providing her with some more grand babies when this trip was over. When it came time to head to bed you’d wanted Hvitserk to stay in your room but that had been vetoed by his family who had stated he’d never get up in the morning and he’d end up being left behind, that didn’t really seem like a problem to you although you knew it was unrealistic. As he dropped you at your door he nuzzled his face into your neck and you heard him breathe in your scent, he dropped a kiss on your collarbone before pushing his lips against yours. The kiss started slow and sweet but soon there was an urgency to it and his tongue swiped your lips begging for entrance. You opened your mouth and the kiss become hot and heavy, it was easily the best kiss you’d experienced and when he pulled away you were both breathless. He leant his forehead against yours and you would swear his eyes looked glassy, I guess this is goodbye beautiful and you nodded because you knew if you uttered a single word you would burst into tears. Hvitserk walked away from you not dropping your hand until it was no longer possible to hold onto it, you willed him to look back but when he didn’t you walked into your room completely missing the moment when he did turn only to see you closing the door.
69 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
61 notes · View notes