#hvitserk series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

undiscovered-horizon · 9 months

Text

Vikings preference: your friend hits on you and gets aggressive

@ivartheb0neless

Ragnar Feels genuinely hurt because he thought he could trust your friend. Whenever Ragnar went away, he'd ask your friend to keep an eye on you and generally make sure you're safe and sound. Makes veiled threats and passive-aggressive jokes at first, hoping that he can both force a boundary and not sour any relationships but his humour is gone when he realizes that your friend is not keen on taking no as an answer. If you raise your concern about "safety vs. keeping a friend", Ragnar makes a sarcastic comment about your sentiment - because a guy who forced himself on you is such a great friend to keep, right?

Gives you a knife to keep on you at all times. If you have the guts, and such an occasion arises, to stab the man once he gets physical with you, Ragnar will have your back no matter what. Also, low-key thrilled. But if you don't end up fighting your own battles, he'll gladly do it for you. Not an ounce of regret on his face during or after.

Bjorn Pretty direct. Makes plausible threats and will fulfil them. Terrifyingly calm and collected for the most part. He's angry but also disappointed that someone you considered a friend could repay your kindness and affection in such a way.

If you tell Bjorn that you're unsure what to do because you want to keep your friend or you think that he's overdoing things, he might get short with you but it's not out of malice. He's worried that if you don't see your male friend for the lying snake that he is, you might get even more hurt and that possibility enrages him so much he doesn't entertain that thought longer than necessary.

Bjorn is definitely the type to make his revenge somewhat public. Not only will that make others keep their distance from you but it will also earn him respect among other men - he takes his husbandly duties seriously. Whether your "friend" lives or dies is entirely up to them and how callous they have been with you. Whether he meant to or not, Bjorn causes people to look away from you when you're walking through the town. No one wants to risk getting your friend's treatment.

After that, Bjorn will never trust any man who tries to be your friend or claims to be one.

Ubbe Tries to be the bigger person at first and has a stern word with your friend. Ubbe is probably the only one to seriously take your word/assurance that there's nothing to get worked up about. He will also wait relatively the longest before getting seriously involved - not because he doesn't care, it's quite the contrary. He doesn't want to impose on your independence, so even if he's uncomfortable with the situation but you keep saying "I've got this", he will keep to himself although will voice his concerns (and will refuse to leave you alone at any place or time). When things become serious and the man starts to get physical, Ubbe will make it clear that from now on he's more concerned about your well-being than your freedom: "I'm sorry for disregarding your wishes but I can't sit and watch you get hurt". Believes to be responsible for your safety as your husband.

Ubbe is the type of person who will seek your friend out on his own and resolve the issue right then and there. He goes to the other man's house one night and leaves it only when an agreement is reached - doesn't matter how far he has to go to ensure that. Ubbe's not afraid to get his hands dirty for the right reasons.

Hvitserk Also hurt because he was actually getting along well with the other man. Hvitserk will ask about your perspective and wishes but if your safety is compromised, he won't make them a priority. At first, he's trying to get you out of harm's way, so you're leaving your house only if he's by your side. But once he learns that your supposed friend forced his way into your home and put his hands on you, Hvitserk is determined to take things into his own hands. He won't seek out your friend on his own but rather wait for an opportunity to arise; doesn't start the fight but surely will end it. The next time another unwanted advances are made towards you, Hvitserk has an axe in his hand and this time, he's the one who doesn't take no for an answer.

If you ever befriend another man after that, Hvitserk will tolerate him but never let go of any suspicions. Also, might tell the story of your previous "admirer" to scare your new friend into behaving properly.

Sigurd The most probable to get into a brawl right away. At first, he feels quite self-conscious seeing another man flirting with you but when the man in question starts to become aggressive, Sigurd coins his insecurity into hostility, effectively picking a fight. After what seems like lakes of blood and an entire concert of bones breaking, the brawl ends. Sigurd looks like he's been through Hell and still that's a lot better than your friend, who would be pronounced dead if it wasn't for the sporadic raise of his chest as he tries to take in a ragged breath. Sigurd will also voice his anger as he's caving in the other man's skull ("Was it fun when you grabbed her? Enjoying a little manhandling, eh? I'm happy to provide").

Gains respect in his brothers' eyes but none of them quite wants to admit it.

Ivar He would also feel self-conscious at first. Considers your friend's bold behaviour an assault on his masculinity ("You think I'm not man enough and therefore think you have any right to bother my wife"). Not surprised in the slightest. Hated the guy's guts from the very beginning and made it obvious. Might actually say the dreaded "told you so".

Because he perceives your friend's aggression as somewhat personal, Ivar is driven to go quite far in order to make the punishment fit for the crime. Not only does he do it for your sake but also to make sure that everyone knows just how much of a true Viking is inside him. Some say that "silence is golden", so if your friend decides to use less-than-savoury language towards you, he might end up with his throat filled with liquid gold to ensure no more offence leaves his mouth. Similarly, he's going to suffer the "equivalents" for whatever other thing he's done. He grips your hand so hard there's a bruise? Ivar will wrap his hand with a chain and slowly tighten it until all the bones crack and the wrist is literally torn away from the forearm. But no matter what he does, in the end he still feels like it doesn't quite make up for your friend's wrongdoings.

595 notes · View notes

incorrectvikings · 3 months

Text

Ivar: Hey, Ubbe?

Ubbe: Yes?

Ivar: Can a person breathe in a washing machine when it’s on?

Ubbe:

Ubbe: Where’s Hvitserk?

#source: incorrectclonewars #ivar the boneless #hvitserk #ubbe ragnarsson #vikings #vikings series

101 notes · View notes

woahhhgwendolyn · 7 months

Text

Dating Hvitserk Would Include...

-Dating him would include him being very jealous at times and not understanding that you are fully committed to just him.

-He would also be very protective of you whenever some other men look at you for too long or even talk to you for a long time.

-He would be very protective in the times that you are near his brothers and also when there are new men in the village that just came in.

-Hvitserk loves to cuddle you and just touch you in general. Every night when you sleep, he has to be cuddling you, He does not really like to hold you down, he just really likes to be with you.

-Whenever you both are out together, he likes to hold your hand and hug you too. He likes to hold you too whenever you both are sitting next to each other.

-When you both are out eating dinner at the great hall, he likes to sit you in his lap and keep you there for most the night. Everyone makes fun of him for this, but he does not mind.

-He loves every single part of you and he makes sure that you know that too. He loves to always tell you how beautiful and wonderful you are.

-He is always telling you how perfect you are for him and how he wants to marry you and have kids some day with you. He tells you all the things he wants to do with you in the future.

168 notes · View notes

bxwitched · 11 months

Text

Captive - Part 4

Warnings: Explicit 18+ only, please read at your own risk. Noncon / dubcon, slavery, manipulation, sexual content, violence, descriptions of wounds and blood.

Character Pairing: King!Ivar the Boneless x Slave!Reader

Summary: You find yourself a captive of Ivar the Boneless.

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: I finally found the inspiration to continue this fic after a whole year. Comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.

You stirred as cold fingertips traced along your leg, a large callused hand smoothing shapes over soft the flesh, waking you from your dream. You kicked out at the explorative touch, making a sound of displeasure as Ivar caught your ankle in his firm grip and snickered in amusement.

"It is time to get up, Valkyrie." You groaned, burrowing your face further into the furs.

"Leave me be, King. Let me sleep." He huffed at you from his perch at the end of the bed and you gasped in surprise as he leaned forward and snatched your leg from beneath the blankets, jostling you as he hitched it over his broad shoulder. His icy eyes locked with yours as he pressed a slow kiss to the side of your knee.

You tried to ignore the heat simmering in your belly as his lips brushed against the sensitive flesh, leaving fire in their wake. His intense gaze bore down into you and flashes of the night before came rushing back; the way that Ivar had looked at you as you had taken control of him and used him for your pleasure.

You had behaved no better than a common whore, desperate for the gratification that his body could offer and you felt your cheeks heat at the memory, your stomach twisting into knots.

You leaned back on your elbows and studied Ivar, he was already dressed in his light armour; with his axe fixed to his hip, his knives stowed at his waist, and metal braces in place on his legs. You didn't have time to wonder what his plans for the day were before he brought you out of your thoughts, his breath tickling your soft skin as he spoke.

"I thought that you would be eager to see your little mouse, Valkyrie. But if you would rather remain in bed-" His voice was teasing and you bolted upright, wrenching your leg back from his grip as you looked at him with narrowed eyes, suspicious.

"You will allow it?" He nodded once, his bright eyes fixated on you.

"You have been good for me, haven't you? Torsten is waiting outside to escort you." You tried and failed to hide your excitement as you stood from the bed and rushed to get dressed. Ivar's lips tilted up at the corners and his eyes remained glued to your form as he watched you ready yourself for the day, beguiled by you.

As you walked the streets of Kattegat you had quickly learned that Torsten was not a talkative man; he was tall and well-built with short hair, shorn at the sides and a dark beard. He was more of a mountain than a man, clearly battle hardened and you had no doubts that he was one of Ivar's finest warriors.

You travelled in silence, trying to ignore the stares of the townspeople as you passed through the busy market, some offered you looks of pity, whilst others flashed you looks of distaste. You couldn't decipher the hushed words and low whispers that were spoken, but you imagined that it was gossip of the king's newest toy, his foreign concubine.

You wondered how many there were before you and what words were spoken of them, whether they were also from Eire or from lands further afield.

Torsten came to a stop when you neared a large barn and gestured you in ahead of him. You entered the dimly lit space hesitantly, mindful of the other thralls as they bustled around, readying for their tasks of the day.

You eyes flitted through the crowd of women, searching for the head of golden hair when a weight suddenly barrelled into you, taking your breath and nearly knocking you backwards as a smaller figure clung tightly to your waist.

Alva sobbed against you, her tears staining the richly-dyed fabric of your dress, 'a gift' Ivar had said, 'wear it for me'.

"I thought- I though that I would never see you again-" You hushed the younger girl as she cried, hiccuping as she tried to form words between her gasped breaths and tears.

"I'm here, Alva. All is well." You rubbed her back with one hand and stroked her hair with the other as she slowly calmed and managed to steady her breathing once more.

She looked up at you with glassy eyes, deep emerald irises that she had inherited from her mother's side.

"Come." You took her hand in yours and lead her away from the barn, down to the waterfront where it was quieter, calmer. You both walked in silence along the waters edge, taking in the warmth of the sun on your face and the sound of the waves as they lapped gently at the shore. Torsten followed behind, giving you just enough distance to speak privately, a courtesy you hadn't expected from the warrior.

Alva sobbed against you, her tears staining the richly-dyed fabric of your dress, 'a gift' Ivar had said, 'wear it for me'.

"I thought- I though that I would never see you again-" You hushed the younger girl as she cried, trying to form words between her gasped breaths and tears.

"I'm here, Alva. All is well." You rubbed her back with one hand and stroked her hair with the other as she slowly calmed and steadied her breathing.

She looked up at you with glassy eyes, a deep, rich emerald that she had inherited from her mother's side.

"Come." You took her hand and lead her away from the barn and down to the waterfront. You both walked along the waters edge, your shoes sinking slightly into the damp sand as Torsten followed behind you at a distance, giving you enough space speak privately. It was a courtesy you hadn't expected from the warrior but appreciated immensely.

"Where did they take you?" Your heart wrenched at the concern and fear in her shaking voice.

"They took me to the king." Alva's face paled, her eyes widening further. She looked akin to a doe in the forest, startled by a waiting hunter in the trees.

"Ivar the boneless." Her fear was evident now, her eyes moving over your body franticly. "What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

"No Alva, I'm fine." Your stomach twists at that and you let out a deep sigh, your shoulders sagging slightly. She was six summers younger than you but she was naive for her age, fragile. She wasn't hardened like you, she was innocent and she couldn't begin to understand the complexities of your situation.

She was a lamb amongst wolves and you knew that you had to do everything you could to protect her, even if it meant being the king's whore.

"King Ivar has taken me as his and so long as I am good to him, useful to him, our safety is guaranteed here. We may be thralls here but we are alive Alva, and we are protected. That is all that matters." She chewed her lip nervously and her worried gaze dropped to the floor.

"I have heard things, whispers from the other girls.." You stopped and crouched down to her level, ignoring the cold water that seeped into the hem of your gown as you searched her face with questioning eyes.

"What things?"

"They talk about the king, they say that he is a great warrior, that he is favoured by the gods and has never lost a battle. But-"

"Go on, Alva." You insisted as she shifted her weight nervously.

"They say that because of his legs, he cannot please a woman. He has hurt slave girls and threatened to kill them if they speak of it. They talk of a woman called Margarette, they say he strangled her."

Your eyes lowered to the sand and you nodded your head solemnly, you would not be surprised by such things given your experience of Ivar's volatile nature. You returned to your full height and forced a small smile, one you hoped would reassure the young girl.

"Come along, let us enjoy the water a little longer."

Torsten allowed you to spend a few hours with Alva, soaking up the warmth of the sun and the feel of the salty ocean breeze before telling you that it was time to return to the Hall.

Alva was unhappy to leave you and return to the thrall house but she finally relented when you reassured her that you'd be okay with a soft smile and promised that you would see her again soon.

You were almost back at the Hall when you heard your new moniker being called in the distance and turned to see Hvitserk making his way towards you.

"Valkyrie!" The man was completely different to Ivar, not only in his physical appearance but in his demeanour; whilst Ivar was impassive and unpredictable, Hvitserk was open and seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve.

He grinned widely at you as he rested on the fence of the training ground, his hair mussed and cheeks red from sparring.

"I see my brother has finally let you spread your wings." You huffed at his jest and moved to rest against the fence beside him, watching as Ivar's men fought each other with vigour, the sharp clashes of steel and crashes of shields heavy in the air.

"They are fine warriors. Though not as fine as you I'm sure.." Hvitserk raised an eyebrow at your taunt, his grin widening as mischief danced behind his eyes.

"You told me that you were a fighter, Valkyrie. Perhaps I wish to see it for myself." You raised your chin slightly, your eyes narrowing in playful challenge.

"My father always believed that I possessed enough fury to rival that of a berserker, maybe we should test that." The blonde man's eyes flashed in delight and he held a hand out to you, helping you over the wooden fence and into the training arena, ignoring Torsten's protests and silencing the larger man with a raised hand.

"Hand me a sword, Ragnarsson." He passed you a short-sword, lighter than you had used before but well-balanced and finely made. Hvitserk opted for a larger sword, heavier and better matched for his larger frame.

"Don't worry, Valkyrie. I will go easy on you." You scoffed, watching as his grin widened and his eyes changed, the mossy green growing darker with his building battle-lust.

You watched his feet, anticipating his initial attack and dodged each skilful slash of his sword. You moved in time with him, keeping up with the prince despite your heavy dress weighing down your movements.

You grinned as you blocked several of the beserker's attempted hits. Hvitserk's expression was positively wild and the fight between you became more intense the more you challenged him.

He barely managed to block your attack to his torso and you grinned as he growled in irritation. You were so focused, until your name was shouted from the fence line.

Your head turned for no more than a second but it was enough time for Hvitserk to land a hit, successfully slicing a line of crimson across your forearm. You gasped as the flesh stung and you clutched at the wound as the blood began to seep from it, running down your skin and dripping into the dirt beneath your feet.

Hvitserk froze, his face dropping into one of remorse as he realised what he had done, then one of uneasiness when he noticed Ivar stalking towards you both with his men in tow. His face was stony but his sapphire eyes gave away his rage, they were practically glowing as he glared at both of you.

"What do you think you are doing, hm?" His voice was level, an unnerving contradiction to the storm brewing behind his eyes. He turned on Hvitserk then and the older Ragnarsson visibly tensed. "I suppose that this was your idea, brother?"

You were quick to speak up, stepping in front of Hvitserk to shield him from Ivar's wrath. Although he had been the one to challenge you to spar, you had been just as willing. He hadn't meant to injure you and you had enjoyed the rush of it, the freedom.

Despite being your master's kin Hvitserk had been civil to you during your time in Kattegat, amiable even. From what you had witnessed he seemed to be a decent man and you didn't feel that he deserved to be reprimanded for your poor choices.

"It's not his fault, my King. I challenged him to fight, if you are to punish anyone then it must be me."

"Is that so?" Ivar tilted his head at you with a raised brow and you nodded, his face said everything his words did not. This is not over.

He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth and nodded once, his jaw tensed.

"Very well, Torsten will take you back to our chambers." He dismissed the larger warrior with a wave of his hand and turned to face Hvitserk, fixing him with a false smile that left no room for argument. "Brother, you will go and fetch the healer. And the next time that you wish to fight? I suggest that you find a different opponent."

@wittysunflower @heavenly1927 @youbloodymadgenius @that-virgo-witch @helleiaiwritting @the-king-of-kattegat-ivar @nukyster-blog @ietss @belladaises @victoria-styles

207 notes · View notes

aikaterini-drag · 11 months

Text

Harald Sigurdsson 🔥❤️‍🔥 I’m going to resume editing my Viking story because I missed him so much 🥰

156 notes · View notes

levithestripper · 1 year

Text

“I'm going to cook you, little piggies! Ohh, and eat you for dinner!”

VIKINGS 03x01 “Mercenary”

518 notes · View notes

heathenarmyimagines · 1 year

Text

Title: Captured

Summary: Ivar tries to see if (Y/N) is valuable.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Part One

Waking up felt like being knocked out all over again, but in reverse and much slower.

You groaned in pain as you slowly gained consciousness, and as you curled in on yourself you noticed the surface you were laying on was cold and hard. Too hard and smooth to be dirt, not splintery enough to be a wooden floor, but what set your instincts on fire was the coldness. Only one thing other than ice got this cold…metal.

A cage.

Before you could think better of doing so you sat up with far too much speed and the motion made her head spin and blurred your vision. Despite the horrible consequences you did manage to take in enough of your surroundings to confirm you were in fact in a metal cage before you closed your eyes to stop the dizziness.

‘Finally, if you didn’t wake up by sunrise we would have had to kill you before we broke camp.’

You had only heard the voice once but you quickly recognized its owner, and in doing so recall all the events that led you to be in this situation.

‘Get to the point, before I decide to bash my head against these bars. If not to put a permanent end to this headache I’ll do it to keep you from killing me.’ you said as angrily as you could manage as you clutch your head in pain.

‘Is it worth it to kill you?’ he asked, in English to your surprise.

‘You speak English?’ you asked.

‘Of course, I visited this lovely country with my great father when I was just becoming a man.’

‘I know. I just didn’t expect you to care enough to learn to speak a new language.’

‘Well I’m still waiting for an answer. Are you worth killing? Do you have any valuable information about Ecbert’s defenses or army?’

‘No. I am a ward of King Ecbert, I am no relative to him and no one will pay ransom for me. No other warrior even knows I stayed behind to kill you so no one is coming to save me if that’s what you’re really asking.’

‘You were not in Ecbert’s castle when I visited, that much I can be sure of. You must have come to him after he handed my father off like a pig for slaughter.’ Ivar said conversationally.

‘That’s not what happened.’ you said as you finally opened your eyes.

The more you talked the pain was slowly easing and your vision cleared enough for you to focus on the viking man sitting in front of your cage.

The cage itself wasn’t too bad, you couldn’t possibly stand up, not that you could without another dizzy spell, but you could sit up fully without hitting your head. You look around and realize that you are in a cage that was on a wagon. Ivar was sitting on the ground looking up at you with a confused face.

‘That is not what happened? Do you mean Ecbert didn’t send my father off to be butchered? Because by all accounts that is what happened. Aella, he did it, and from what I’ve heard it was a display of violence and cruelty.’

‘That is true; and despite how things are I am truly sorry for your loss, but it was not a decision that King Ecbert made out of malice. I never met Ragnar but this much I can say with certainty, Ecbert didn’t wish for any harm to come to your father.’

King Ecbert didn’t often speak openly of the times he personally parlayed with Vikings, and he never spoke of his conversations with Ragnar Lothbrok. Those were moments he seemed determined to keep close to his heart so that he could take those memories to his grave.

However, when he had private lunches with you, Alfred and Aethelred he would drink wine and if his mood was good and if the wine was strong he would let slip little treats of information.

“This wine is the sweetest you can get, those Vikings nearly emptied our cellar when they got into it.”

“Slow down Alfred, you have the table manners of a Viking, soon you’ll be smashing our plates.”

The king would say little things like that every once in a while, but one time…when his mood was not good at all and the wine was too strong he went on a full drunken rant.

“Ruling. It is something men are killing to do, not realizing that no matter what it ends up killing you! The key to being a good king is this.’” Ecbert said drunkenly to Alfred, ignoring the sullen look Aethelred made at his exclusion.

“Know that you are nothing. What you want means nothing, the people you love don’t matter, even your own wishes mean less than nothing. Why? Dear boy, I will tell you why. Because your kingdom is paramount, your people need you to do right by them; and it is essential you understand the place you hold in their eyes. You will not be their Lord, their Liege or even their Highness; you will be their King!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

“Their King ordained by God! A God you will be all but forced to question as you make unholy decisions for the betterment of your people. Horrible evil decisions that you make when you're young and full of good intentions; decisions you as King can’t publicly call mistakes. Decisions that will end lives, decisions that will haunt you for the rest of your days and may even keep you from eternal paradise.”

Poor Alfred, he was only…ten maybe eleven as Ecbert poured the worries of an old king into his childish head.

Ivar looked up at you with no true expression but you could tell he was taking in your words, but you would probably never know how he processed them.

‘Hvitserk!’

You were startled by his sudden yelling, but you definitely recognized the name he called for; his brother, another son of Ragnar.

A gangly viking man came from the other side of your cage and yawned.

‘I thought you would babble on forever.’ he said as he stretched sleepily.

‘So…do we have to kill her or bring her for information? Either way I hope to enjoy her first.’ he said as he observed you in the cage like a pig at market.

‘I do understand Norse as well.’ you spat.

‘I’m aware. So what will it be, Ivar? Is she useful?’

‘She is very useful, brother, but you will not be having her. She will be our hostage.’

#vikings imagine #ivar the boneless #hvitserk lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #captured series

112 notes · View notes

primarch-victus · 8 months

Text

same energy ✨️

#hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk #gannicus #spartacus #vikings series #vikings #best boys

30 notes · View notes

3vhasashi · 23 days

Text

𝒪𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 — 𝖧𝗏𝗂𝗍𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗄 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

Again I find myself writing fics based on music lol, anyway, Hvitserk is my favorite character, so I'd like to do something special for my boy!

Warnings: Fluffy, Confort, hints of sex, explicit sex.

─────────────────────────── ✦

You were a hand-picked squire for Ivar, and consequently met Hvitserk. At first, the man didn't appeal to you, but as time went by, the jokes he made began to make you laugh, and the way he battled made a flame inside you grow, but Hvitserk was still a prince, and not even in your wildest dreams would a Ragnarson pay attention to you, besides, Hvitserk had lain with everything that walked and breathed — as long as it was female — and you didn't want to be one more, you didn't want to be just another night, you deserved more.

You had just returned from Wessex, your heart was pounding, it had been several days of travel with your crew and your body was still getting used to being on dry land again. Sitting on the edge of the pier, the woman just rested, the breeze passing through her hair, while you used your fingertips to unravel the strands, so engaged in nature that you didn't notice the man approaching, only when you felt a firm hand rest on your shoulder, did you quickly draw your sword, turning into battle position. Your breathing was uneven, and when Hvitserk saw your expression, he couldn't help but laugh a little, then look away. You sighed.

“You are an idiot, I could have killed you now.” His tone was sarcastic and he couldn't help but smile when he heard the man's laugh echoing along with the noise of the waves.

“Of all the warriors, do you think you could kill me?” Hvitserk commented in a playful tone, he arched an eyebrow as he crossed and rested his hands on the buckle of his armor, his gaze was fixed on you, and you acted as if it wasn't affecting you.

"Maybe you have a point" You snorted, steadying your feet on the ground before attacking Hvitserk with your sword, the man dodged easily, which didn't stop you from attacking him again, your blows were quick but due to the fatigue of the journey, you obviously weren't in the best shape. Hvitserk disarmed you easily, holding his weapon against your chest, your faces were almost touching and you could smell him, it was inexplicable.

Hvitserk gave you a smile before slipping his leg between yours, knocking you to the grass beneath you and then falling on top of you. The man's face was buried in your shoulder, you could feel his weight against your body, it was hard to breathe, and you gasped, Hvitserk laughed before lifting his face, coming face to face with you again, you pushed him aside, feeling the blush grow on your face, as you tried to get up, without success, Hvitserk held you, and curled his finger to pull your chin, making you look at him.

"You look beautiful under me Y/N" the man whispered huskily, his eyes dropping to your lips and meeting yours again. Your breathing became more and more labored — you needed to get out of there — and with every touch from Hvitserk, you felt your body relax.

"You won't be able to sleep with me. Be aware of that." Your tone was harsh, and you did your best to maintain your scowl, drawing another laugh from Hvitserk, who pulled your face even closer to his.

"You're different from the others, that's what intrigues me"

"Oh Hvitserk, I know you say that to everyone. But that doesn't work for me, I don't need you to treat me like I'm special."

Hvitserk gulped, standing up and sighing deeply as he watched you sit down on the grass next to him, brushing the dust off your clothes.

"You're special to me Y/N."

"As they all are until you get them into bed"

"By the gods Y/N, who created this image of me for you?" He crossed his arms, taking a breath as he asked you.

"Word gets around." you said a little sadly, Hvitserk was amazing, but you didn't want to be just another one on his list.

Night was falling, and you could feel the chill running through your body, Hvitserk stood up, and without saying a word the man just offered his hand so that you could follow him, the walk was silent, he remained silent, even though his mind was notoriously full of thoughts and things to say to you. Along the way, the man stopped, the cold wind ruffled his hair and you sighed, pondering what words to say next.

"Hvitserk, I..." Your comment was interrupted when the man pressed you against the tree behind you, you widened your eyes as he just took a few seconds to formulate the sentence.

"I like you Y/N, do you think I'd be trying to get your attention for so long just to sleep with you?" Your tone of voice was a mixture of anger and frustration, you pressed your body even closer to his as he used his knee to spread your legs.

"Were you trying to get my attention?" You laughed, watching the man's face blush, Hvitserk reduced the distance between the two of you, his wet lips met yours, and you just enjoyed the moment, before the kiss ended and you both needed time to catch your breath.

"Am I that bad? That you didn't realize I wanted to impress you?" He commented with a pout and tilted his head to the left, you pressed your lips against his again, without warning, you could feel that your body was on fire. You didn't want to talk - not right now - your body needed him, and Hvitserk was taking notice. The man let go of you for a moment, you gasped in protest at being empty away from his arms. The man only smiled mischievously as he pulled down his pants, and you could feel your hair stand on end, remaining still as he grabbed you again.

His hands roamed your body, touching you as if you were something divine, while Hvitserk kissed you heatedly, your arousal only growing, Hvitserk noticed your breathing becoming irregular and you emitting small moans during the kiss, he leaned over, kissing your collarbone while removing your underwear, the man caressed his member and stared at it from top to bottom, before licking his lips and rubbing his cock against your wet intimacy.

"Fuck... how hot" Hvitserk moaned in your ear, he wasn't even inside you and you were already delirious, you bucked your hips, intending to feel more of the touch of the man's member, Hvitserk gasped, holding you in his lap as he pressed you against the tree, until you finally felt him enter you, you choked, his size was huge compared to the Vikings you'd already lain on, it took a while to get used to it, but once you were comfortable with the member, you got into an intoxicating rhythm, Hvitserk moaned in your ear, and with each firm, fast thrust he increased the speed, it seemed that it wasn't just your body that needed it.

"Hvitserk..." You moaned his name, enough for the man to go into ecstasy, his hips slammed against yours, until the moment when his thrusts began to become disjointed and irregular, you stared at him, your eyes deep as he glued his lips to yours, slowing down his thrusts, he moved up you, reaching that delicious spot inside you, you couldn't hold back a scream, Hvitserk laughed, and in an instant, his tongue was entwined in yours again, your breathing was almost nil by this point, your mind was blank and you could only murmur his name.

Hvitserk came inside you, sinking his face into your shoulder, even after the orgasm the man kept thrusting into you, until you reached your limit, you tilted your head, moaning low as he put you down.In particular, you thought he would leave, after all, he had already gotten what he wanted. But to your surprise, no, Hvitserk didn't leave; on the contrary, the man helped you get dressed, and made concerned comments about whether he had hurt you. You were startled by his behavior, but not in a bad way, it was true, he really liked you.

"Hey Hvitserk." You called out to him, snuggling into his arm as you both walked. "I like you too..."

The man stopped for a moment, and a genuine smile appeared on his face as he kissed you again, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you close, commenting in a playful but loving tone.

"Kattegat's best squire likes me, why would I want another woman?"

─────────────────────────── ✦

#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk #hvitserk imagine #vikings fanfiction #vikings series #vikings #oneshot #hvitserk lothbrok

16 notes · View notes

universalambients · 2 months

Text

youtube

Norway (1827) Ambient Music

2 notes · View notes

undiscovered-horizon · 8 months

Text

"She is not a bird" - Hvitserk x Reader

SUMMARY: In Eddas, every great warrior falls in love with a Valkyrie - a winged goddess equally beautiful and imposing. Hvitserk finds his after a battle as she's stitching wounds and bringing comfort to those who will not see another dawn.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k

In a colourful dress, she busses around, Time and time she turns her head, gives a smile, You could swear you saw her wings yesterday, How she hid them under the dress, But she’s not a bird, Can’t you see? She is not a bird.

Hvitserk has no interest in medicine or healing. Despite that, he has found himself watching one of the healers as she’s running back and forth between beds. She’s been at it for hours now and Hvitserk begins to wonder how come she’s not tired yet. Her feet and hands are equally quick as they had been when they arrived at the camp after the battle. The mesmerising glint in her eyes, something between curiosity and adoration, is still just as bright. Whenever one of the wounded warriors wants to talk to her, she sits at the edge of their bed. Her head nods gently before her lips curl into a reassuring smile and she says something in return. Maybe she’ll even chuckle at something. From where he’s standing, Hvitserk can’t make out her words but he can quite clearly see the faces of the people she’s talking to and it makes his curiosity consume him entirely to know what words turn agony into peace.

Lost in his own thoughts, the young Viking doesn’t notice jarl Friedgeir approaching him.

“Enchanting, isn’t she?” he asks with a smirk. He’s seen this scenario one too many times to have any doubts about what Hvitserk is thinking about. Friedgeir himself has been in that very same position before.

Friedgeir Esrason is nimble for his age. White and silver hair circles his tired face like a halo. Sun-damaged skin makes him appear even older, although fuller of life. It’s a testimony of long days spent on adventures, seeing what the world has to offer. Despite nearing grandfather’s age, his torso is broad and his arms are about the size of a shieldmaiden’s thigh. Brass bracelets clink every time he moves his hands. The purple material of his tunic is clearly worn out, tearing in places of the most friction.

“She is,” Hvitserk admits.

Jarl puts his heavy hand on Hvitserk’s shoulder. For a moment, the young warrior wonders if Friedgeir could actually crush his bones should he squeeze his fingers a little tighter.

“Can I entrust a secret to you, son of Ragnar?” Friedgeir asks in a low tone. His grey eyes look around the two of them as though expecting to find a prying set of ears. Everyone besides them appeared too preoccupied with their own duties and worries to care about the gossip shared between the Jarl and the famous Lothbrok boy.

Hvitserk looks at the older man with a frown.

“My brothers and I have risked our lives for your cause, Jarl Friedgeir,” he reminds the ruler. “I have no interest in breaking your trust. You know that already.”

“Good.” Friedgeir pats Hvitserk’s shoulder. He must be unaware of his strength as the gentle slaps are actually quite forceful, making Hvitserk answer his own question about crushing bones. Friedgeir can definitely turn someone’s skeleton into dust with a squeeze. “My wife mustn’t ever hear what I’m about to tell you. That girl…” he makes a pause and points his finger at the healer, “I think she might be a bird.”

Taken aback, Hvitserk looks up and down the Jarl.

“Did the Swedes hit you on the head?” he asks half-heartedly.

“I wish it was that. But no.” Friedgeir laughs bitterly and shakes his head. A shadow of melancholy flies past his sun-damaged face only to reside inside his silver eyes as a teary glint. “I always knew there was something strange about her but I came to understanding only after seeing the great viziers of the East and their pets locked in golden cages.”

Hvitserk glances towards the healer. His eyes follow her like hawk in hopes of some enlightenment that would make Friedgeir’s words clearer to him. Alas, she appears as she did before - enticing and human.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t understand.”

The Jarl lets out a sigh.

“Just look, dear Hvitserk. See the colourful dress like a parrot’s feathers.” Hvitserk has never heard of something called a parrot, so he is left to assume that they must look nothing like the birds in Norway. “And look at men’s faces when she talks to them. Pain and suffering change into hope and peace. The only time I’ve seen that was when one of the viziers asked his angry guests to listen to his oriole singing. After an hour, no one remembered what they were fighting about.”

Time as if slows down as Hvitserk is watching the healer sit on the edge of a cot belonging to a dying man. She holds his hand tightly and tirelessly wipes cold sweat from his forehead. The warrior is stuttering, fever and pain making his wants incomprehensible. The woman sitting beside him only nods her head, offering a warm smile and a short response. Soon, the man falls limp. His eyes turn blank as his head rolls lifelessly to the side. The healer squeezes the corpse’s hand and only then gets up to continue her work. A pair of healthy warriors wrap up the body in blankets only to carry it away, to the place where a great pyre will burn after nightfall.

Hvitserk is more intelligent than the jarl. More perceptive. He’s seen geese flying southwards when winter was coming, only to come back after snow thaws. But not her - she stayed until the warriors’ skin turned cold and grey. Let go of dead hands only after the heart stopped, never earlier.

“She’s not a bird,” the young Lothbrok speaks up. Friedgeir looks at him curiously. “Can’t you see?” he asks with a chuckle on his tongue. “She must be a Valkyrie, leading fallen warriors to the gates of Odin's hall.”

The Jarl only nods slowly, pondering Hvitserk’s words.

“If she is, perhaps death isn’t a too high price to be by her side.”

But he’s too young to be this patient and Hvitserk has to find a reason to be beside her now.

You’re taken aback when someone suddenly takes the wooden crate from your hands. The unexpected helper reveals himself to be none other but Hvitserk with a playful grin on his face. Despite giving all he could in the battle, just hours prior, he appears to still be vigorous as though the fight was a mere warm-up.

The man puts the heavy crate on his shoulder, securing it with one arm. What has given you backpain and cold sweat, seems like no chore to him. The Ragnarsons really are a different strain.

“Where do you want this?” he asks casually.

“At the pyre.” You point in the vague direction of where the bodies will be burned. “Illness thrives within the old, used dressings.”

Hvitserk begins wandering to the place you have pointed out and, not sure why, you begin to follow him. His strides are long and sure, his breathing calm and steady. He hardly fits the image of a man who had to fight like a rabid dog to survive just earlier that day.

“Are you not tired afer the battle?” you ask him. Confusion slips past your words.

“I am.” Hvitserk glances at you. It’s a quick look but you manage to notice him staring you up and down. “But I thought you might need help. You’ve been tending to the wounded for hours.”

A melodic, light chuckle escapes your lips.

“You’ve been watching me?”

His playful half-grin turns into a genuine smile. Staring at the road ahead, he almost looks bashful.

“I have a habit of admiring enticing things,” Hvitserks admits.

You feel your cheeks burning at the nonchalant compliment but you don’t let him notice that. Neither do you let his sweet words distract you.

“Then you must lead a busy, beautiful life.”

The man’s voice seems faraway and absent as he answers, as though his mind is suddenly occupied with vivid daydreams:

“Not yet.”

The noise of the camp is inaudible now. Only pine trees and wild berries accompany Hvitserk and you. A murder of crows suddenly takes flight as you pass by. Their cawing echoes through the empty forest.

You can’t quite put a finger on this sensation but something about Hvitserk makes you feel warm and calm inside. It’s the same feeling one experiences when sitting in front of a warm hearth after spending long hours in the cold. When the blood begins flowing again and the relief of not freezing to death is forgotten, the warmth and safety make one sleepy and giddy. But how can a man make you feel the same as a fireplace on a cold night?

Hvitserk sets the crate down with a low thud. The sound shakes you awake from your thoughts. A strong, putrid smell of blood, fresh wood and animal fat fills your nostrils. Even after all those years, it never gets easier to prepare people for their final journey.

“Thank you,” you begin awkwardly. Some more anxious part of you is suddenly terrified that he will somehow learn of your thoughts about him. “I don’t know if I could have carried it by myself all the way here.”

His lips curve into a sly grin and you can tell he’s about to weave a string of charming words but something about him distracts you instantly. Hvitserk’s shirt, once greyish-beige, is now brown and crimson. Not thinking much, you suddenly grab his arm. He doesn’t even get a chance to protest when you roll up his sleeve to reveal a, re-opened wound.

“Your hand is bleeding,” you state.

Hvitserk is unsure whether your stern gaze scares him or excites.

“It’s nothing.”

He tries to roll his sleeve back down but you swat his arm away. Pushing down on his shoulder, you force him to sit down on the ground with you.

“Well, it’s definitely going to scar,” you say quietly as you inspect the deep cut in his skin. “But the good news is, some women like men with scars. I know I do.”

You take out a sewing needle made from animal bone. For practicality, you’re used to wearing it pinned somewhere in your clothing. After all, one can never know when they might need it like when a handsome, charming Viking suddenly needs his wound stitched. Gods work in mysterious ways, truly…

A drop of blood drips from the wound each time you push the needle through the pale skin. Hvitserk is impressively collected - he only grunts a few times and clenches his teeth.

“All done,” you whisper more to yourself than him. In a quick, mechanical manner you wipe the skin of his arm again and roll down the sleeve of his shirt.

You’re standing up when Hvitserk decides he’s not quite done being the apple of your eye:

“How hurt does a man have to be for you to stay around longer?”

As though he didn’t just get stabbed eigh times in his cut and bruised arm, he’s staring at you with than same insufferable mischieviousness that you’ve grown to love so much. Sometimes you wonder whether this is exactly the reason he’s never had trouble charming women.

“A broken rib would do it,” you say with a shrug. “Or you could just ask.”

Suddenly, Hvitserk jumps to his feet. A newfound fire is burning inside him - a flame known only to those, whose affections are returned.

“Please?”

Jokingly, you frown at him.

“I didn’t know the Lothbroks knew such words,” you say in a surprised tone.

You feel his fingers dragging up your arm until his palm gently brushes against your cheek. The skin of his hand is dry and calloused, standing in a stark opposition to its owner.

“We hold it for special occasions.” Hvitserk’s voice is low, almost raspy.

“And me standing here is somehow special?”

“You don’t even know,” he whispers. His breath is hot against your cheeks. But how can a man make you feel the same as a fireplace on a cold night?

“Then tell me.”

At that moment, he knows he will have his entire life to remind you just how special you are to him; he will have his whole saga to love a Valkyrie.

#vikings #vikings tv series #vikings x reader #vikings imagine #vikings fanfiction #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x you #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk fanfic #vikings x you

387 notes · View notes