#hvitserk vikings
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Kinktober Day 18: Spanking- Hvitserk Ragnarsson
Summary: Your stupid actions on the battlefield have consequences
Word count: 1, 536
You knew he was angry, even before he started yelling. Honestly you knew even before you saw his face that he was angry. Your reckless behaviour on the battle field may have caused Ivar to laugh, but Hvitserk had grabbed you and dragged you away as soon as you made it back to camp.
“How could you be so reckless and so stupid?!” He yelled at you as you stumbled into the large tent.
Ripping your arm out of his grasp you scoff and roll your eyes. Folding your arms over your chest you look at him with a smirk.
“Don’t you smirk at me like that!” He shouted at you, getting right into your face.
Rolling your eyes, you look down and purse your lips, trying to suppress a smirk.
Groaning and turning away from you, Hvitserk couldn’t help but pace and mutter to himself. He tried not to get angry, not wanting to turn into how Ivar could be sometimes. It felt odd not to see his charming smile on his face but you weren’t ready to apologise for this.
You probably shouldn’t have pushed him but your strong head was clouding logic.
“I wasn’t even hurt and it wasn’t stupid. I saved our men doing that and look,” you argue, lifting your arms and turning, “not a scratch on me. I am not a child, Hvitserk, I don’t need you holding my hand and telling me off!” You yelled at him, anger now growing as you begin to storm off.
A harsh and slightly painful grip on your upper arm stopped you before you could make it to the tent flaps to leave. Growling, Hvitserk harshly pulls you until your faces are a just a breath apart.
His fiercely angry eyes looking into yours now making you feel his terror. Those strong and intense eyes of a warrior also fill your body with a feeling of warm arousal.
“That’s exactly what you are. You are just a little girl who needs to learn her place.” He harshly growls at you.
Not being able to stop the moan from escaping you, he smirks devilishly as he can see the effect he’s having on you.
“Maybe that’s what you need, little girl. Need me to spank you so you’ll learn?” He whispers hotly into your ear.
All you can do is gasp and moan at his words, but that’s not what he’s looking for.
“Answer me.” He demands, his nose now pressing against yours.
“Yes.” Is all you can whisper out as his hand grabs at your ass.
Looking into his fierce eyes once again, you begin to lean in to kiss him, but he leans away chuckling. He smirks again at your whimper of protest.
“Good girls get kisses,” he taunts grabbing at your hair roughly to pull your head back, “you have not been a good girl.” Smirking at pouting lip and sad eyes, he gives your ass a hard slap, earning a yelp from you in return.
“If you want to be a good girl, you’ll strip down for me and sit down on the bed nicely. Go on then.” He orders as he releases your arm, slapping your ass once again as you walk towards the bed in his large tent.
Taking his place on a large arm chair across from the bed, his eyes watch your every move as you begin to remove your clothes. He can’t tear his eyes away from your form as each layer of clothing is removed, to reveal your gorgeous figure underneath.
Once you are completely naked and standing before him, he does not utter a word. His eyes look into yours more intensely as he raises an eyebrow and flicks his eyes into the direction of the bed. He doesn’t need to say a single word and yet his order is extremely clear.
You can feel the tingling heat rush through your body as you crawl onto the bed, making a show of moving your ass as you go. You may want to be a good girl but that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a bit. He knows exactly what you’re doing, as a deep moan is heard over your shoulder with your ass is on full display for him.
Knowing that you’re teasing him, he doesn’t give you a moment to comfortably sit down before his hand is back in your hair, pulling your head back to look at him.
“Don’t you want to be a good girl? Earn my sweet touches and maybe even a blissful release?” He asks looking down on you from your kneeling position on his bed.
“Yes, Hvitserk, I want to be a good girl.” You moan and gasp out as your eyes close.
“Then why” he emphasises by pulling your hair once again, causing your eyes to open “must you tease me so? You will take your punishment and maybe then you will obey me and you’ll learn some manners.” He growls out at you.
Swiftly he moves to sit on the bed, feet placed firmly on the ground as he drags you across his lap by your hair. One hand across your upper back and the other placed on your ass, you feel both scared and aroused. You are at the mercy of a fierce warrior and there is nothing you can do but take your punishment.
“You’re going to count every slap I give you and if you miss a number we start over. Do you understand?” He whispers hotly in your ear as his fingers begin to lightly descend to your pussy, barely even touching it, simply teasing you as if you require more punishment.
“I understand.” You pitifully whisper out.
“Good.” He curtly states as one harsh blow makes its way to your ass.
“One!” You scream out at the hard crack sound from his harsh blow.
Soon another hot sting is felt but on the other cheek.
“Two!” You pitifully squeal out again.
One after the other, blow after blow, he hits and you count, wanting nothing more than to be a good girl for this handsome warrior.
“Aaa-aah! Te-ten!” You finally scream out.
With your breath heaving you find yourself going limp in Hvitserks arms. Huffing and moaning you squirm around in his lap. Seeing your tired movements he can’t help but let out a little chuckle as he lightly rubs your sore pink ass lovingly.
“You did so well, princess. I think you deserve a reward.” He sweetly whispers in your ear, a total opposite man to the one who had just been attacking your behind for the past couple minutes.
At hearing the sweet name and the promise of a reward you begin to happily moan and push into his hand that has begun stroking your hair.
“Come on, sweet girl, lay down on the bed for me.” He gently coos as he softly manoeuvres you.
Now laying on your back and seeing the handsome prince kneeling between your spread legs, you can’t help but give him a sweet dopey smile.
“You want me to make you cum, little girl?” He asks you sweetly, his finger tips beginning to stroke along your wet pussy.
“Definitely feels like you do.” He lightly laughs as he begins coating his fingers in your wetness, fingers running up and down your pussy.
“Please make me cum, Hvitserk, please.” You whine at the prince above you as you begin to squirm towards his touch.
“Okay, sweet girl.” He replies to your pleas.
One hand on your cheek and the other still between your legs, he leans down and kisses you passionately as two fingers enter your eager core. You can’t help but moan out as he breaks the kiss and begins to curl his fingers up and into that sweet spot inside you.
“That’s right, princess, moan and cry out, enjoy your reward.” He whispers hotly against the sensitive skin of your neck.
Hvitserk knew exactly what he was doing as he pulled back from your neck and his other hand joined in bringing you closer to your release. Now playing with your clit, his movements speed up, causing your moans to become louder and louder.
You can feel the sweet coil inside your lower belly tighten and your walls beginning to flutter as you reach your release. In only a few short minutes Hvitserk causes that coil to snap and a filthy moan is pulled from your lips.
Your body is twitching and your hips grind into his fingers that remain inside you, riding out your release as he comes back to your lips. Kissing you sweetly, your hands make their way into his hair, lightly stroking and pulling at the long locks.
Moving gently to lay beside you, he makes a show of putting his wet fingers into his mouth, moaning as he taste you.
“You taste absolutely delicious, my sweet girl.” He tells you, looking directly to your eyes.
With his now cleaned hand he reaches out for you hips, pulling you into his arms.
“Sleep now, sweet girl, you did very well.” He tells you with a sweet kiss to your head, as your exhausted body slips into sleep.
#Hvitserk#Hvitserk imagine#Hvitserk x reader#Hvitserk Vikings#Hvitserk Vikings x reader#Hvitserk Vikings imagine#hvitserk ragnarsson#Hvitserk Ragnarsson x reader#Hvitserk Ragnarsson imagine#Vikings#Vikings imagine
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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 18
Here it is, friends! The promised update! A massive thank you to everyone who replied to my prior post. You guys are truly the best and y'all give me the desire to finish this story.
I'll confess, this chapter is short (by my standards). I also feel like its not up to my usual quality of writing, so please give me some grace as I step back into the world of writing and remembering how to use words.
Lastly, if I missed anyone who wants to be added to the new tag list, please let me know!
Words: 3900
Warnings: Violence (both graphic and implied), swearing, Ivar still struggles with feelings
Series Masterlist
The day of reckoning had come.
A red sun rose that morning. The locals glanced nervously at the sky and muttered under their breath at the strange sight. But Ivar knew what it meant. A blessing on this day from the old gods.
Everything had fallen into place far more easily than he anticipated, a blessing indeed. The manipulation, the lies shared to convince the traitors to meet with him, feigned ignorance to soothe any worry of their deceptive being known. It all dripped from his lips like poisoned honey, until it was too late. Until the door was shut and a gun was pointed at their heads. Then he dropped the façade and allowed his guile to show. Only then were the traitors introduced to the truth of their failed scheme….and become close acquaintances with his knives.
It was a day for justice.
A day for vengeance.
And Ivar relished every moment.
*****
Amidst the dim light leaking through the few windows into the basement, the stench of dry, stale air, piss and blood permeated.
Two men knelt on the concrete ground before their executioner. Naked, with their clothing scattered beneath them, cut from their bodies with artful precision. Arms outstretched as in the worship, yet thick rope bound them to this position. Not as devout petitioners, but as those in bondage without even a god able to save them.
For Armageddon had arrived, led by a blue-eyed devil with a malicious smile and blood dripping from his knives.
Studying the one still conscious, he casually wiped the traitor's blood from his knife with a clean rag, for he refused to miss a single moment of pain or despair that was to come.
The trial of judgment had not truly begun yet. This was only the first act.
A vibration from his phone drew his attention away momentarily as he checked the text. A smirk adorned his face as he replaced the phone in his pocket and returned his gaze to the one before him.
"They are here." Ivar stated, "should I wake your friend? He's been unconscious for some time now."
The traitor remained silent, his eyes staring at the gray floor, even as blood slid down his skin like raindrops. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, almost as if in meditation. But Ivar knew better. The man was waiting. Biding his time. Enduring the pain until the others came.
Unfortunately for him, no amount of waiting would save him from what was to come.
Ivar glanced over to the other man on the left. Before he had even been restrained, the man had pissed himself and was begging for mercy, crying out and spewing secrets and half-truths in the futile hope for forgiveness. At the first pass of knives over his flushed skin, he fainted.
Fucking pathetic.
At Ivar's command, buckets of cold water had been tossed on the sniveling coward to awaken him. He would not get away from his prescribed torment. Not that easily. Twice the man fainted while receiving his medicine. And twice Ivar had him painfully revived. This third time, Ivar allowed him longer in his brief respite. But no longer.
The day of vengeance had arrived for those who betrayed the Lothbroks, and Ivar would see they were conscious for every moment of it.
"Wake him up."
At Ivar's command, his white-haired driver picked up the bucket at his feet and tossed it on the unconscious man.
The man sputtered and gagged, returning to the land of the living and the land of his torment. Immediately he began whimpering, as if that could save him. As if anything could save him now.
The echo of footfalls on the wooden staircase sounded in the basement.
Ivar's smile widened as he met the pained but calm eyes of the traitor kneeling before him. "Better start fucking begging for forgiveness."
Ragnar came around the corner, followed by Lagertha and Bjorn. A gasp filled the air once they came into sight. A sound of recognition. A sound of disbelief.
“Please! I'm sorry! He made me do it!” The coward began sobbing, his whole naked body shuddering at the strength of his cries and voice. “Please! I didn't–”
“Silence!” Ragnar roared, drawing close, eyeing both men. A predator inspecting the prey. His bright eyes glared at both men, focusing most of his anger on the one known to him. “You thought you could betray me?” He crouched before them, studying them, reading them. A devilish grin grew on his lips after a moment. “How'd that go?”
He chuckled darkly as he stepped to the side, already knowing the outcome but here to watch the show. With a quick glance to the side, he gave permission for another to step forward and to hear the case.
The coward continued to whimper but wisely made no move to steak. A pity really, Ivar was hoping to cut out his tongue.
"Kalf?" Lagertha asked, coming closer. The initial look of shock faded away, leaving behind confusion and anger. A deadly combination.
"Lagertha, there's been a misunder-" Kalf started to say but cried out in pain after Ivar hit him on the side of his head with his wolf's head cane.
Ivar returned the cane to his side, leaning back in his plastic chair casually. "Tsk tsk. You do not speak unless spoken to." He shifted his gaze to his father's first wife. “All the evidence is on the table over there.”
Lagertha followed the nod of Ivar's head, looking towards a table pressed against the wall. On it were stacks of papers, all the threads from the web of betrayal, cut and laid out to prove his betrayal. Every string, every conversation, every transaction, every knot in the thread. The damning evidence Ivar had been gathering for months. All there in black and white.
With a resigned sigh, Lagertha glanced down to Ivar. “I believe you.”
Ivar nodded silently, shifting the cane from his left hand to his right, still encased in the damn cast. He had never liked Lagertha and she had never liked him. They tolerated one another but that was the extent, prefering to avoid one another's company in casual or public settings. Except when it came to business. There was an unspoken respect they harbored for one another in this one regard; and for her to take Ivar's word alone on this matter, furthered his respect for her.
He did notice that Bjorn walked over and started leafing through the papers. Maybe his eldest brother was finally learning to use his half-wit brain.
The fierce businesswoman moved to stand in front of her lover, seemingly uncaring of the splatters of blood and shredded clothing under her heeled boots. “Why?”
He opened his mouth, eyes full of hurt and hope, but before any sounds escaped, she cut him off.
“Do not lie to me, Kalf.” She practically snarled, a she-wolf rising in fury, with no sight of a heartbroken lover.
He gazed at her, tone beseeching. “I did it for us.”
Her hand moved so fast that even Ivar did not catch it until the loud sound of a smack echoed in the basement, followed by Kalf's grunt as his head jerked to the side.
“If you did it for us, you would have included me in your schemes.”
Kalf worked his jaw before returning his gaze to his lover. “I planned on it, but–”
Another smack reverberated in the air.
“Try again.” Lagertha spat out.
Ivar could see it. The moment Kalf's pretense swiftly crumbled. His face hardened, eyes switching from a hopeful innocence to angry slits. His body tensed as if preparing to fight back, to finally show some spine and no longer take the abuse.
“I knew we could run the organization better. Make more money and be unstoppable. But I knew…I fucking knew you'd never leave Ragnar. You'd never leave his side because you'll always be his side bitch. So I did what I had to.” Kalf grinned but there was no humor. Blood darkened his teeth, giving him a monstrous look. “Does that make you feel better, baby? I'd have given you everything but you'll always run back to Ragnar. You never stopped loving him, you just got better at hiding it. What a fucking waste. I would have made you a queen!”
Lagertha yanked out a pistol from the holster on her thigh and aimed it at Kalf's head. Hand steady. Lips in a thin line. Eyes focused on him. A she-wolf ready for the kill.
Kalf chuckled darkly. “You won't do it, my love. You don't like getting your hands dirty.”
Ivar waited to see the outcome. Ragnar already commanded that Lagertha was to choose Kalf's fate. A fucking waste in Ivar's opinion but he relented. Hopefully he would be given the other one, an example needed to be made. Although the other man was only the accountant to scrub the books and try to hide the betrayal, not the mastermind that Kalf was, he was still involved. That was enough to earn his death. Preferably at Ivar's hands.
But Kalf's death would be decided by Lagertha.
Ragnar and Bjorn watched from the sidelines, witnesses to the impending justice against their organization and family. Holding a paper in each hand, fury coated Bjorn's face, understanding of the undermining that had been allowed to run rampant for too long, especially by one he trusted. With arms crossed and an impassive expression, Ragnar watched on. When Ivar caught his eye, he received a nod but returned his gaze to the show, waiting for his ex wife to make a decision. All the papers and what they represented were already reviewed by Ragnar as Ivar discovered the treachery.
After a long tense moment, a gun shot rang out. Almost deafening in the small basement. Yet no one flinched. The sound as familiar as birdsong for those still breathing.
Surprise and pleasure flooded through Ivar as the coward's head lolled loosely, brains blown out and splattered on the wall and floor. Payment for his crime painted for all to see.
Kalf jerked his head to look at his accomplice and then back to his lover, confusion and shock in the lines of his face.
“You shouldn't have dragged Philippe into your mess.” Lagertha calmly said, replacing her pistol at her thigh. “Ivar, he's all yours. Do with him what you want.” She took a step back. “Good bye, Kalf.” Then with the poise of a queen, she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, washing her hands of her former lover and his demise.
In the next moment, a hand landed on Ivar's shoulder. “Good work.” His father commended. He gave him one more fatherly pat before following Lagertha up the stairs.
Ivar grimaced as he knew his father was following his first wife to help her blow off some steam. Something that happened but no one spoke of.
A different set of footsteps came to his other side. As Ivar looked up at his eldest brother, a grimace on his own face at his parents, echoed Ivar's own sentiments. With a shake of his head, Bjorn looked down at Kalf who had gone suspiciously silent and still.
“I thought she would shoot you…guess she thought that was too fucking easy for you.”
Kalf spat out a bloody mess towards Bjorn's leather shoes, eyes blazing and fresh blood trickled down his chin.
“Have fun with that one.” Bjorn said. “And try to keep your cast clean. Fuck, you'll never get all that blood out.”
“I'll get a new fucking one. Fucking hell.”
“Fine.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you going to do with him?”
Ivar shrugged, examining the man like a piece of marble waiting to be sculpted. “Cut off each of his own fingers and make him eat them?”
“That's disgusting.” Bjorn shuddered. “Don't take too long. We need you in Spain. We got a call on the way here.”
“What happened?”
“I'll fill you in after your fun, but it sounds like you'll be there a few days.”
“Okay.”
The eldest Lothbrok son opened his mouth for a moment, then stopped to lick his lips before starting quietly again. “Have you…have you heard from her yet?”
There was only one her that Bjorn could possibly be referring to and it made Ivar's blood boil even as his heart shattered.
“Shut the fuck up.” Ivar seethed, fingering the head of his cane, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he broke Bjorn's shins by striking him.
As if sensing the impending violence, Bjorn backed away. “Call me when you're done here.”
Ivar grunted, still beyond pissed his brother would bring her up right now.
“You know…my mom mentioned that Kalf had an almost irrational fear of fire.”
At Bjorn's lazy comment, Kalf's head lifted to stare at Ivar, face blanched and eyes wide with panic.
A truly ferocious grin appeared on the youngest Lothbrok's face at the pure terror radiating from the man before him. Even when his flesh had been pierced with Ivar's knives, beaten with Ivar's cane, the man had endured without fear. Oh, but the sweet scent of terror that radiated off him now…
Ivar barely heard Bjorn's retreating footsteps up the stairs. He turned to look at his driver, his long white hair tied back, highlighting his cruel scar on the side of his face.
“Toss me your lighter.”
Pleas for mercy tainted the air, but not for long.
*********
As he stepped out of the elevator, it took all of his mental capability to keep his feet moving purposefully and his gait steady. His eyes were gritty and dry from lack of sleep, his body threatened to revolt against his restless mind and collapse in desperate need of rest. He refused to acknowledge it, propelling himself forward. After this one last meeting, he would allow himself to give in and seek the rest his body so desperately needed.
Ignoring those scurrying around, he passed the several offices on the top floor of Ragnarssons Trading. The scowl he wore must have been fearsome for how quickly it made those plebeians scatter out of his way. Wise on their part. He was in no mood for empathy or kindness, traits he was not commonly known for anyway. He just wanted to fucking sleep. The temptation to stab anyone who tried to stop him was exceptionally high.
“You live!”
“Fuck off.” Ivar grumbled, more out of habit than true ill intent. Well, if he tried to stop him, there may be some violence.
Falling into step with him, Hvitserk looked smart in his gray suit, a clear contrast from Ivar's own rumpled jeans with t-shirt and leather jacket. “How was Spain? No, wait, you were just in Morocco. Or was it Turkey again?”
“India.”
“Hmm…What I heard, you've spent more time in dungeons and airplanes than in a bed. Those bags under your eyes make you look like a zombie. Ah hell, when did you last sleep?”
Ivar grunted, annoyed with his brother's ceaseless chatter and the reminder of his lack of self-care. “Father in his office?”
“I think so. I was about to go for a late lunch. Want me to wait for you?”
“No, I'd probably fall asleep before the food came.”
Hvitserk chuckled but did not dispute the claim.
The pair arrived at the door for Ragnar's office. With a quick knock on the wood and a following ‘enter’, Hvitserk opened the door for them.
Ragnar sat at his large desk, an organized chaos to all the things upon it. Scattered papers and files resided in piles, along with a cheap, tourist paper map of Stockholm spread out and a bronzed human skull which Ragnar refused to admit if it was real or not. Ivar had always bet it was real.
Torstein also occupied the room, standing behind the desk beside Ragnar, pointing at the laptop screen open in front of them. They must have been continuing speaking of logistics for a particular expansion of goods into Stockholm.
At their entrance, Ragnar kept his gaze on the screen while addressing him. “I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”
“I can just as easily report today.” Ivar ungraciously plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of Ragnar's desk. He winced at the impact and the sharp pain shooting down his legs. With more care, he set his right hand, still in the cast, on the arm rest.
At Ivar's audible pained inhale, Ragnar aimed his piercing gaze at his youngest son. “You look like shit.”
Ivar snorted. “The devil doesn't sleep and neither do I.”
That made Ragnar smirk and Torstein chuckle. From the other seat beside him, Ivar could feel Hvitserk's eye roll. Everyone knew that Ivar had been running himself ragged, anything to keep himself busy, which usually involved his face glued to a computer or phone screen or blood on his hands. Ever since Kalf's fall from grace and his fiery demise, Ivar had been cauterizing the wound left in the company…and reminding people what happened when they placed themselves on the Lothbrok's bad side.
“Suit yourself. Tor, finish this and I'll make a phone call–” Ragnar spoke to his friend but Ivar tuned him out.
He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest as he waited. His father was not wrong. He felt like shit. Then again, he had felt like shit for the past three weeks now, ever since Kari had told him she needed space. So he focused on what he could do for the family business. Anything to distract himself from what his heart yearned for. During this time, he learned it was easier to feel physically shitty and move on. It was much harder to ignore and move on when his heart was fractured and bleeding her name.
Eyes closed, his mind began to drift lazily like an autumn leaf, thoughts moving at a sluggish pace due to his exhaustion. He had tried to sleep in his car on the way here from the airport but sleep eluded him- still too wound up from the flight, too many cigarettes and too much caffeine. The trifecta of sleep deprivation. He never slept on planes, even on private planes, he could never relax enough. Especially when they flew over open water.
A buzzing from his pocket jerked him out of his almost meditative state. Without opening his eyes, he dug around in his pocket and pulled his personal phone out. Only a few people had his private number, preferring to direct most of his calls to his work phone, which lay silent in his other pocket.
“‘eah?” He mumbled amidst a sudden yawn.
A hesitant but professional male voice spoke. “Mr Lothbrok?”
“Huh?”
“Is this–ah, is this Ivar Lothbrok?”
His brain awoke on full alert at the implementation that a stranger had his personal number. “Who the fuck are you?” Those sluggish thoughts went into overdrive, trying to recognize the voice or how this fucker got a hold of his number.
“I'm Nurse Olsen, calling from the General Hospital. A patient we have gave us your name and number as an emergency contact. My apologies for bothering you, we just needed to verify. Do you know a Kari Larsen?”
What racing thoughts died a spectacular death by crashing into a wall of shock and disbelief.
Someone was calling him about Kari.
As an emergency contact.
From a hospital.
Where she is a patient.
A PATIENT!
In a strange form of whiplash, his brain went from a screeching halt in shock to overdrive of all the reasons she could possibly be in the hospital, each scenario worse than its predecessor. “Is she hurt?” He wheezed out, as his heart and lungs threatened to be strangled with the sudden fear that exploded within him.
“Sir, I'm not allowed to discuss patients’ wellbeings over the phone–”
“IS SHE HURT?!” He screamed, the building panic in his chest rising higher and higher, suffocating him.
His mind easily conjured her laying in a hospital bed, nurses and doctors swarming her like parasites, sticking tubes in her, cleaning up her precious blood, all in an attempt to save her. She laid there unconscious to her precarious position. Or maybe she was screaming for him. That was how they got his number. She needed him as she lay dying.
He drew a ragged breath but it failed to relieve the painful pressure in his chest. Gods, if she died….he promised. He promised to take care of her.
A new level of loathing sunk its claws into him, a demon from the darkest pits burrowed into his mind, taunting, tormenting.
He had promised.
And he failed.
Again.
“Mr Lothbrok, are you able to come to the hospital?” The nurse sighed before speaking again.
“Yes.” He croaked out.
“Excellent, what you can do is park–”
But the nurse's explanation was cut off as Ivar ended the call.
Ivar stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself. The floor beneath him shifted and rolled like waves. Or maybe it was the demon cackling in his ears, messing with his equilibrium. Spots danced in his vision but he ignored them, pushing past. He had to get to her. He had to see her. Was his heart even beating anymore? His chest burned, each breath a struggle to take. As he tried to slip his phone back into his pocket, he realized his hands were shaking. Or was it his whole body?
What exhaustion previously had taken root was brutally ripped out and replaced with a buzzing, paralyzing panic.
“Ivar? What happened?” Hvitserk's voice broke through. His hands grabbed his younger brother's shoulders, saving him from falling in his unstable haste to move. “Ivar?!”
“I–I have to go to the hospital.” Tears welled in his eyes, that terror and panic finally having risen to his mind, strangling his rationality, constricting his thoughts until all he could think of was Kari and he failed.
“What happened? Oh shit. Is…was that about Kari?” Hvitserk's eyes widened in horror.
“She's there.” Ivar gasped, weakly pushing his brother aside, hands still shaking. ”She's there right now. I have to go– fuck, I've got to see her.”
Stumbling, forcing himself faster than his crippled legs would allow, to escape the way his chest was collapsing even as he fought for breath, fought for each step. He had to see her. There was no other option.
She had to be okay. His kitten. He refused. He fucking refused to believe she was dying, even as his mind continued to create horrific scenes.
This was not how he wanted to be reunited with her.
Hvitserk grabbed his arm, steadying his erratic pace. “I'm coming with you.”
Gratitude swelled within Ivar but the panic clogging his throat refused to let the words pass.
The two rushed into the hallway, as fast as Ivar's crippled legs would allow. Hvitserk already had his phone out, calling Ivar's driver to have his car ready at the front for them. At the pounding footfalls behind them, Ivar glanced over his shoulder to see Ragnar following like an intimidating guardian angel.
Ragnar snarked. “Hurry your ass up or I'll carry you on my back like when you were a boy.”
“You're too fragile, old man.” Ivar managed to retort.
“Shut the fuck up, you little asshole, and let's go get your girl.”
As the three of them hurried out of the building, the same thought swirled like a growing storm in his mind.
Hold on, Kari, I'm coming. Just please hold on.
Tag List:
@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got
#mz writes#to call forth love#vikings#vikings fandom#vikings fanfic#ivar x oc#ivar the boneless#vikings ivar#ivar#ivar ragnarsson#modern ivar#modern!ivar x oc#ivar the boneless x oc#ivar romance#hvitserk vikings#hvitserk lothbrok#bjorn ragnarsson#ragnar lothbrok#ragnar#lagertha
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Could he get any cuter??
#marco ilsoe#marco ilsø#hvitserk vikings#hvitserk ragnarson#hvitty#history vikings#vikings#hvitserk lothbrok#hvitserk x reader#vikings hvitserk
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I've been sick for the last two weeks (doctors finally decided that I need antibiotics) and I've had a ton of ideas for fanfics that I've not finished. I think I might be able to make something of this one though.. the ideas are definitely idea-ing. Lmk what you think
Hvitserk x Reader... with his brothers stepping in to share of course.
♡♡♡
As far as middle children go, Hvitserk was pretty damn good. Easy going, mostly independent, agreeable, and generally pretty passive. He had learned not to need as much attention from his family early on and Hvitserk was able to entertain himself for the most part. He didn't often get into arguments with his brothers and tried not to pick sides in fights. Ubbe was always the peacemaker, but he never had to worry about Hvitserk needing mediation.
Generally, Hvitserk can get along with just about anyone. Growing up sandwiched between siblings, he easily developed strong sharing behaviors. Not that there was much of a choice, but unlike other children Hvitserk never became resentful of having to share everything. In fact, overtime it developed into something of a love language.
As a young boy, he had no problem sharing furs and bedspace with his brothers. Even if Ivar was a bit of a blanket hog. Mealtimes had him snatching things off others plates, but he would also add the best pieces of meat to one of his brothers bowls. Especially if they were having a bad day. Hvitserk easily traded toys, shields, knives, trinkets, cups, clothes. Anything a brother needed, he was there to provide.
Some part of him hoped that his sharing might rub off on his brothers, particularly Sigard and Ivar. But at the end of the day they were who they were and he was okay with that. Even if it was annoying sometimes.
His willingness to share also morphed into a resistance to jealousy. He wasn't completely immune mind you, but he recognized that it didn't help anything most of the time and he should be happy with what he has. One might argue it was only natural for his giving nature to spill over into the bedroom. Or for his lack of jealousy to lead to many fun and interesting experiences. The sons of Ragnar are stronger together after all, and should work as a team whenever possible.
#hvitserk vikings#hvisterk x reader#vikings#ivar the boneless#hvitserk ragnarsson#ivar x reader#ubbe x reader#sigard x reader
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Hvitserk and His Princess
Notes: This is a part II for hell was the journey (but it brought me heaven) and I wasn't thinking of making a part II but since i've been asked so nicely to do It, here I am. Took me long enough to finish cause I was in the middle of something, adult life getting in my writer's way, I'm sorry about that. It's not over but I'm back. Thank you for your patience and please, don't stop sending asks, i'll answer to all of them.
for the beautiful nikaprincessofkattegat and alyssalucas8 who asked for the part II in the comments.
Warnings: no smut, but still +18 with a little violence in it.
One day, almost a lifetime ago, you asked Hvitserk If he would make you happy and he promised you that was the only thing he would do. Back then you only believed in duty, in doing what was expected from you, that’s why you ended up in Kattegat in the first place, happiness was a dream you once had as a child, not something you imagined would be part of your life. But as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your swollen frame you were immediately filled with a warm feeling, something you could only take as true happiness.
You leaned against the body behind you and felt his hands rubbing against your tiny bump, pressing you against his chest while spreading kisses all over your shoulder and neck, you smiled to yourself letting your body be surrounded by his presence, his scent and the sense of safety he brought to you, making you sigh.
“You missed me.” He whispered into your ear.
“I did. Very much.” You joked. “But you missed me more.”
“You are absolutely right.” He said, turning you between his arms and making you look at him. “How are my girls doing?”
“You are terribly sure it’s a girl.” You pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck. “What If it’s a boy? Will you love him the same?”
“Stupid question, I love him already.” He pulled you in and kissed you quickly.
The days around Hvitserk were easy to live, he would never leave you alone, always checking on you, checking if you were feeling alright. And since you found out you were with child he became more clingy, his hands always on your body, especially on your bump. He would rub and kiss the skin, if he could, he would keep you naked all the time so he could keep an eye on both of his girls.
“How was the meeting with your brothers?” You asked, still attached to his body.
“Boring.” He whispered back, kissing you again, but something changed in his demeanor, at the mention of his brothers he stirred.
“You have something to tell me.” You insisted, moving away from his insistent kisses.
“Is there anything I can hide from you?” He asked with a frown, hands traveling down your body to hold a firm grip on your hips, you denied.
“You’re trying to distract me.” You said with a pout and he sighed.
“Bjorn is going to Frankia. He asked me to go with him.”
Your face contorted immediately and you tried to let go of him, but he didn’t let you, keeping you between his arms. You pouted and crossed your arms in front of your chest.
“I suppose you didn’t like It.” He told you with a smirk.
“I don’t want you to lose the birth of your child.” You answered angrily.
“I know. But he’s my brother and he needs me.”
“What about Sigurd and Ubbe? What about Ivar?”
“We’re all going.” He pressed his hands on your hips, pulling you in a little more. “We’re going to see Rollo.”
“Does he need all of you to do that?”
“It’s expected from the sons of Ragnar to rule together, even though Bjorn is the king.”
“I don’t agree.”
He hugged you and eventually you corresponded, hugging him back, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head against his chest. He kissed the crown of your head several times, pulling you tight.
“Is It dangerous?”
“No, It’s just talking.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Come back to me.”
“I will.”
He left on a sunny day, you waited in the pier until the boat vanished on the horizon and everyone else was already gone, you looked away without knowing what you were really expecting, for him to change his mind and come back already or for the time to pass quickly, but not too quickly, not enough for your baby to be born without his father around.
“He won’t be here.” Her voice startled you and you looked behind to find Margrethe looking straight at you with a mid smirk.
You didn’t answer, walking away from her while she kept repeating and yelling ‘he won’t be here’.
‘Crazy Margrethe’ was her name now, and since Ubbe finally left her, Hvitserk was the only one who still had a soft spot for her, found her a house outside of town and would go check on her every now and then. You wished you’d feel sorry for her, but she never changed her attitude towards you, in fact It only got worse with time. Your husband would tell you to brush It off and forget about It, but she got particularly mean since you got pregnant using every opportunity she had to hurt you.
Ubbe was now married to Torvi who separated from Bjorn when he married Gunnhild. It was confusing at first, but after so much time with them you learned that they would do anything they wanted. Ivar and Freydis finally had their child, named him Baldur. Torvi and Ubbe were expecting their first child while Hali and Asa grew stronger each day. You learned to love them as your own family, cared for them and felt protected with them, but when It came to Margrethe they couldn’t do much.
“Leave me alone.” You mumbled, walking away faster but listening to her footsteps following you.
“He won’t be here.” She repeated and you grunted, entering the great hall to find Torvi and Freydis inside, they quickly noticed your presence and came to you.
Raising your hand you held Torvi’s and let the woman bring you close, she hugged you while Freydis stepped in front of you both.
“Go home Margrethe.” Freydis warned, startling little Baldur in her arms who immediately started to cry.
“This is my home!” She walked inside.
“Not anymore.” Torvi said, quickly pushing you behind her.
“You stole my family, you stole my husband, you’re a witch!” She ran towards you but was stopped in her tracks by one of Gunnhild’s men, who held her and prevented her from getting close.
“Take her to her house.” Gunnhild’s voice came from behind you, making the three of you look back. “Make sure she won’t leave for a while.”
She was taken out screaming and trashing while Torvi turned to you, holding your face between her hands while silently checking on you.
“I’m alright.” You reassured, holding her hands that were still on your face. “I’m alright, Torvi.” You repeated.
“I’m sorry you have to go through this.” Gunnhild tried to comfort you.
“I’ll talk to Ivar.” Freydis grunted, sitting back where she was while leaving Baldur sitting at her feet, playing with a few toys. “When he comes back, I’ll talk to him.”
“The solution will be to kill her.” You sighed, sitting next to Freydis.
“Exactly. Is that a problem?” She frowned.
“Hvitserk would never forgive me If I agreed with that.”
“You deal with Margrethe everyday, this isn’t right.” Freydis insisted. “And you’re pregnant, your child should be his priority, not her.”
“We are his priority. But he cares for her too… And I don’t want her to die either…”
“You’re just like him. Ivar would never allow this to happen, nor with me nor with Baldur. Hvitserk should end this.”
You kept thinking about what Freydis said, slightly angry about how she was so certain Ivar would kill Margrethe for her and about how this sounded so appealing to you. You didn’t want to deal with her craziness anymore, but did you want her death? You weren’t sure, there was a battle going on inside you between this part of you and the one who respected your husband’s wishes.
The time was passing, months were passing, your tiny bump grew bigger everyday and so did your anxiety about Hvitserk not coming back in time to watch your baby’s birth. One night, as the lightning cut through the sky the silver light illuminated your whole house and you were awake by the sound of thunder. It was a hard storm, you could hear the thick raindrops against your ceiling and the whistle of the wind through the cracks of your walls. The first ounce of pain made you grunt and you shrunk into yourself like a wounded animal.
“No, no, no, not now.” You mumbled to yourself.
You sat against the headboard and looked around. You were alone in your house, against everyone’s wishes. They begged you to stay with them since you were in the final stages of your pregnancy but you couldn’t accept the fact that you would give birth while Hvitserk was away, you wanted to believe you still had time. The first tears flooded the corner of your eyes and left wet trails on your cheeks on their way down your face, you felt hopeless.
“God, help me.” You prayed for the first time since you married, embarrassed to even ask for His help after so much time. “Please help my child.”
Like an answer to your prayers you heard footsteps outside your house, for a moment you felt happy, imagining to be someone to help you, but as Margrethe’s face showed up on your window you, another painful contraction hit you hard making you grunt.
“Told you he wouldn’t be here.” She growled, another lightning illuminated her face showing you a victorious smirk as she looked at you.
“Leave me alone.” You sighed, using your strength to get up and walk towards the door.
As you opened, her body showed up in front of you holding your shoulders and pushing you inside, making you lose balance and fall behind. You widened your eyes, looking at her.
“You can’t do this.” You murmured, holding your bump protectively.
“You stole my family. You don’t deserve to have your own.” She growled again, walking towards you as you crawled back.
“Hvitserk will never forgive you.” You insisted. “If you do something to his child, he won’t forgive you.”
“We can have many children of our own.”
“But this one…He wants this one!” You felt your back against the wall and she crouched in front of you, her hands grabbed your knees and closed your legs.
“You won’t have this child.”
“Get off me!” You tried to get rid of her hands but she kept holding you firmly.
“You won’t have this child!” She repeated and you cried loudly, another contraction spreaded the pain from your belly to your lower back and to your legs.
“Please, don’t do this.” You murmured.
“Why would the gods bless you so much and leave me nothing?” She asked angrily, still keeping your legs shut. “Why do you deserve happiness more than me?”
“Keep the child!” You yelled through the storm. “Raise him as your own If you must, do to me as you will, but keep the child!”
“I would never keep this child. I can have many children of my own!”
“Please! He will hate you…” You gasped. “Hvitserk will hate you forever.”
“He’ll forget all about you and this child. Eventually.”
Your screams mixed with the noise outside your house and one more time you looked around, helpless, that’s when you saw one of the many pots you had around the house. You quickly grabbed one of them and hit it against Margrethe’s head who fell dizzy to the side. You took this opportunity to try and crawl away from your house, using all your strength to get up and leave. You stumbled through the storm, trying to walk as fast as you could towards the great hall, while protectively holding your bump. Eventually, Margrethe, who left the house right behind you, reached you and jumped your body, both of you falling over the muddy ground.
“Help!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. “Somebody, help!”
“Shut your mouth. You witch! You’re a witch!” She screamed back, holding you down and trying to crawl up on your body.
Another lightning cut through the sky as you felt someone lift her from the top of you. You widened your eyes and raised your head to see her body being dragged away from you. The rain clouded your vision and before you knew it, another person grabbed you by your arms.
“Let’s go!” You heard a scream and looked at the person holding you. Torvi.
“She was trying to kill me…” You mumbled, leaning against her body.
“It’s alright. You’re safe now.” She took you inside and helped you get comfortable on the bed, the furs around you got immediately damp.
“Save my child, save me child.” You babbled, holding onto Torvi’s arms, dizzy by the pain.
“We’ll save both of you!” She mumbled before turning to the door.
You were scared, hair glued to your wet face, clothes damp attached to your skin. Freydis came in and sat behind you using her own body to support yours. Torvi grabbed your knees and held your legs opened, you cried louder when the pain hit you again.
“Freydis…” You grunted as you felt her hand on your damp forehead.
“Alright, time to push.” She warned.
“I c-can’t.” You mumbled feeling exhausted.
“You can. You will. Push.” She insisted, helping you, slightly pushing your body forward. “Go. Push.”
You used the rest of your body strength to keep pushing, while Freydis helped you doing the same with your back, pushing your body forward. Your chest was aching with the amount of pressure on your body, your heart was beating so loud you could listen to it inside of your head, you felt like your body was almost separating in two. You cried, loudly.
“I CAN’T DO THS!” You screamed in agony.
“You have to!�� Torvi insisted, touching your belly to teu and feel the child. “Push!”
Freydis pressed your body and you growled, pushing forward.
“Let’s go princess, you’re stronger than you think.” She insisted, pushing you forward one more time.
Torvi grabbed your knees keeping your legs opened, mumbling small prayers while you cried in pain and grunted as you pushed again and again and again until you did it one more time, with all your strength and you could finally hear the first cry filling your ears.
“That’s It. She’s here! She’s here!” You heard an excited Torvi and your heart almost stopped when you learned it was a girl.
Freydis hand rested on your chest as she happily praised you, her voice was the last thing you heard bafore everything went completely dark.
When you woke up again it was already morning, the storm was gone but so was everybody, you were alone. You sat up with the help of your hands but your throat was dry, you couldn’t call for anyone. You felt overwhelmed, your heart started to hammer inside your chest, for the first time in your life you were terrified to be alone, to be without your daughter.
But before you broke down in tears you heard footsteps outside the room, when the door opened Torvi showed up, the small bundle of furs inside her arms and you immediately smiled, leaning against the headboard and leaving a small space for her to sit by your side, when she did, she was smiling too, carefully handing you the baby.
“She is perfect.” Torvi mumbled.
And she was. You carefully held her tiny hand, kissing while counting her fingers, you rubbed her face and payed attention to every detail, her pointy nose, heart shaped lips and small eyes, beautifully gray. You checked her belly, her legs and her feet, counting her toes just like you did with her fingers.
“He said It was a girl.” You murmured, still looking at your daughter.
“He was right.”
Torvi touched your face and you looked at her, the pain finally showing in your eyes.
“He lost it. He promised he would be here, but he isn’t.” You started. “She was right.”
“Don’t do that.” She scolded. “It doesn’t matter what she said, your daughter is here, she’s safe and so are you. Hvitserk will be here, but you can’t think about him now, you have to think about her, and yourself.”
“What happened to her?”
“She ran away.”
That was the only answer you got, eventually you stopped asking. The first year of your daughter was an adjustment, your heart still waiting for him, but you learned very quickly you had more important things to deal with. Torvi helped you name her: Sif and she grew strong, a mini-Hvitserk with green eyes, thin lips and light brown hair. Looking at her helped you in some way, she reminded you of him, of how much you missed him, and how much you loved him, so deep that it materialized on that tiny human.
A while ago, you heard from a few people in town that they’d be calling you both ‘Hvitserk and his princess’ and you smiled like a fool every time you thought about It, you were his.
“Mama!” She screamed with a laugh, running around the great hall with Baldur chasing her.
You looked at them and smiled, waving at her, your eyes traveled around, from your daughter, to the walls, to the fire flames that kept the place warm. You blinked tired, It was getting late.
“Sweetheart, let’s go.” You called, getting up and walking towards your daughter.
“Stay here tonight.” Gunnhild showed up, asking you calmly. “It’s too cold to walk home with her.”
“I’ll be living here with you If we stay like this.”
“Why not? Torvi and Freydis are already here, you are welcome to stay too.”
“Thank you, but I like my home. It reminds me of him.” Sif ran to you and held the skirt of your dress. “We’ll be here in the morning.” You cradled her in your arms. “Say ‘bye bye’.” You murmured, kissing her chubby cheeks when she waved.
“Bye bye.” She repeated with a smile.
You eventually left, walking back home with your baby in your arms while she babbled about her day with Baldur, the things he showed her. Your eyes followed the path towards the pier and you sighed, stopping in your tracks to watch from afar, imagining his boat docking at any time. You missed him, you missed him so much.
“Father.” She whispered, pointing at the pier.
“Yeah, that’s where he’s coming from.” You smiled at her and kissed her again.
She didn’t know him but you spent a lot of time talking to her about her father, telling stories, telling her how much he loved her and how much he wanted her, even before she was born.
“Father.” She repeated and you smiled again, this time you looked back at the pier just to find a boat approaching.
Your eyes widened and you froze. It couldn’t be. You lost hope so many years ago you couldn’t believe your eyes. You put her on the ground and held her hand firmly, ready to come back running to the great hall.
The people started to leave the boat. Dark silhouettes poorly illuminated by the full moon in the sky. You covered your mouth with your hand and turned around, you were about to start running when a deeply familiar voice called your name through the night. You stopped on your tracks and turned again. He repeated. And shouted loudly while running towards you.
When his arms wrapped around your body you froze again, in utter shock. He pulled you in, held your face against his shoulders but your only movement was to tight the grip around your daughter’s hand.
“My love.” He mumbled, holding your face in his hands and staring directly into your eyes. Your vision was blurred but it focused on his face eventually. His voice was a sizzle from afar, unintelligible, his touch had a strange familiarity that scared you at first. “It’s me, look at me.” He begged in panic, but the one thing to wake you up was your daughter’s voice.
“MAMA!” She screamed and you blinked, looking down to her scared little face. “No hurt mama!” She insisted, using her hands to push him to the side, that’s when he finally left you and crouched in front of her.
When you looked at him there were tears in his eyes, he looked at her with adoration and she held onto the skirt of your dress. He looked up and you finally felt the true happiness you missed so much, you felt the tears coating your face and you sighed in relief, with a smile on your face you told him:
“Sif. Her name is Sif.”
#hvitserk x reader#hvitserk imagine#vikings hvitserk#hvitserk vikings#hvitserk lothbrok#hvitserk x you#vikings fanfiction#vikings au#vikings fic#vikings imagine
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I Wish I Were Her PT 6 - Finale
Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader
Summary: Y/N and Hvitserk finally find their way to each other.
Introduction Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
“Right now?!”, I furrowed my brow at him, “Weren't you about to go somewhere?”
“I still am.”, he kept grinning, “but now with you as my date – come on!”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him. Multiple senses were suddenly working at full speed. I could hardly decide on which I should concentrate on most. The woody scent of his perfume filled my nose, the warmth of his touch spread not only through my hand, but throughout my whole body, from my feet all the way up to my cheeks, and my vision was filled with his attractive features, his captivating smile, and his pair of eyes in whose pupils I was reflected.
On our way out, he asked me, "Have you ever played billiards?"
"Let's just say I tried once," I smiled awkwardly and shrugged, "why? Is that what we're going to do tonight?"
"Only if you like. We can also just have a snack, a drink..." he suggested.
"We'll see!", I smirked up at him, as he held the passenger door of his car open for me.
Normally I'm not very keen on trying new things and rarely move out of my comfort zone but with him, I thought to myself as he made his way around his car, it's easier for me and I was even looking forward to whatever he had up his sleeve that evening.
Turning the car keys and simultaneously pressing the button activating the seat heating Hvitserk started driving. "How thoughtful.", I thought, sinking into the warming seat.
Who needs a perfectly planned out date when all that matters is the person you spend the date with. Hvitserk made the very spontaneous date perfect, just the way it was. A billiards and dart bar would not have been my first choice for a date night, but it turned out to be the unthinkable best choice. We had the most delicious but also most spicy cheese nachos thanks to the jalapenos. They must have been harvested directly in hell. Luckily, they had milk there. How on earth could Hvitserk eat that without even making a face, except for the moments when he laughed heartily when I fanned myself or took a big gulp of the milk. "Be honest, it's more me than the nachos, isn't it?", he secretly teased me, and I poked him in the shoulder as I emptied my glass. "Oh, shut up!", I said, followed by a laughter. “But you didn’t deny it!”, he grinned at me.
“Which of you two lovebirds is up for playing billiards?”, one of his friends called out and therefore I got around an answer.
And who would have thought that I would also get along quite well with his friends and not just because they let me win at billiards. But seriously now, I'm really bad at billiards. If Hvitserk hadn't helped me so often, I wouldn't have won even then. Although you could have thought I was doing badly on purpose, just to have Hvitserk close to me, to feel his chest against my back and his hands on mine when he showed me again and again how to hold the billiards cue correctly. Who knows? Everything’s possible. We will never know.
Either way, at least I could score true at darts, even without help. So, I honestly earned the drink bought by the loser of the round, which happened to be Hvitserk. "Because you distracted me!" he argues, but I argue otherwise. I may or may not have distracted him purposely by giving him the glad eye.
A few hours and drinks later we left the bar. Hvitserk had kindly offered to drive me home. I did not drink much, however, to get my car and drive myself was too risky at that point. I would go to pick up my car first thing tomorrow, until then it was well kept in front of Ivar and Hvitserk's apartment.
And I was definitely in safe hands, too. I felt so comfortable with him, especially here in his arms, enclosed in what was intended to be a it’s-been-a-great-evening-I’ll-see-you-around-hug.
“Um, well…”, he loosened his embrace, "I guess I'll see you...."
“Actually…”, I started. Standing there, feeling like my heart is about to jump out of my chest, I realized I didn't want the evening to be over yet and most of all I didn't want him to leave just yet.
“Would you like to come in for coffee... or something?”, I asked, hoping the offer wouldn't come across weird.
“If you don't mind.”, he smiled down at me, starring directly into my eyes, “I’d actually love to… come in for a coffee or something.” And there he went teasing me again, didn't he?
“Come on in!”, I said, opening the door to my small apartment, and simultaneously reaching around the corner, turning the light on.
“Make yourself at home!”, I said gesturing to the suede couch, “I'll get us coffee.”
While I waited for the coffee maker to warm up, I heard Hvitserk walking through the living room, stopping here and there, then moving on. He was probably interested in all the embarrassing photos that hung on my walls and adorned my dressers. "Damn, I should have left the lights off," I joked to myself.
Distracted by the loud sound of grinding coffee beans, I didn't notice Hvitserk joining me in the kitchen. I noticed him only when he turned my head to him and kissed me unexpectedly.
Completely caught off guard, I could hardly react, as he already loosened the kiss again. “I’m sorry, I just felt the urge to do it.”, he explained.
I grinned up to him like a Cheshire cat. “Fine by me.”, I said, “to be honest, I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”
His lips twisted into a smirk before he lowered his hands to my hips, pulling me against him, granting my wish. Again. And again. The butterflies in my stomach went crazy and I felt intoxicated.
He lifted me onto the kitchen counter and his lips worked wonders on my lips and on every part of my skin he could possibly reach at the moment.
"What about the coffee?", I asked breathing out.
“I don't want coffee.", he answered plainly, “All I want is you!” And that I gave him willingly.
When I woke up the next morning, under the warming blanket, nestled against Hvitserk's chest and enclosed in his arms I couldn’t feel any happier.
Slowly and gently, as not to wake him, I looked up at him and thought: “I no longer wish to be her. I am exactly where I belong. Right here. With him by my side.”
Thank you so so soo much for reading. Really, I am so grateful for you reading my stories. I really appreciate it and I don't take it for granted. 💚😇 I really hope you enjoyed reading the last part of “I Wish I Were Her”. Feel free to leave any kind of feedback. 😊
Have a good start into the new year!!🎉
Tagged: @ecarroll1978 @istorkyou
#fanfiction#vikings fanfiction#vikings fanfic#vikings tv show#ivar the boneless#fanfic#vikings#vikings imagine#hvitserk x reader#hvitserk imagine#hvitserk vikings#hvitserk fanfic#hvitserk fanfiction#hvitserk x you#hvitserk ragnarsson#hvitserk lothbrok
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I'm changing things up please could I request Hvitserk Ragnarsson with C for Cuddles? ♡
Vikings Masterlist
Request info
Hvitserk Ragnarsson SFW Alphabet Masterlist
Cuddles
Contains: Fluff
234 Words
Comment if you want to be tagged/removed
Would they like to cuddle? How do they cuddle?
"Hello my love." It was late or early morning, all you knew was that it dark and cold, "why are you home." Hvitserk nuzzled into your neck, "I couldn't stay away any longer, the bed at the cabin is too lonely without you." You chuckled softly, "can't you cuddle with Ubbe?" He huffed, "no, Ubbe doesn't smell nice like you." He settled into bed and wrapped his arms around your body, "yep, totally worth the trip in the cold."
"You need help." Hvitserk laughed, "no, I need to you to stay exactly where you are so I can get some sleep." You huffed, "what about me? You're crushing me." He kissed the back of your neck, "tough shit pretty girl."
****
You could hear people talking outside your room but it didn't matter, Hvitserk's arms were so warm and firm it was like nothing else existed. "Do we have anything planned for tomorrow?" He grumbled, "no my love, we don't. We can spend all day inside doing nothing." You giggled, "you mean we can spend all day inside eating?" He squeezed you tighter, "maybe, as long as I can hold you while I do it."
You shook your head, "I'm not sure how that's possible, maybe you can sit behind me." Hvitserk smiled, "great, I like to sound of that." You pressed a kiss to his forearm, "I am the luckiest woman in the world."
Fin
#vikings imagine#fluff#vikings#ivar the boneless#hvitserk#hvitserk ragnarsson#hvitserk whiteshirt#hvitty#hvitserk imagine#hvitserk smut#hvitserk vikings#hvitserk x oc#hvitserk x y/n#hvitserk x you
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Drowning (500 Celebration)
500 Celebration Masterlist
Pairing: Hvitserk/f!Reader
Prompt: From the Fluff Prompts category: “You make me happy.”
Word Count: 3374
Warnings: Topics of drowning and death by drowning. Mentions/allusions to violence and death. A whole lot of angst and some morsels of fluff hidden there. Angst with a happy ending tho. This is, now more than ever after I was gone for so long, probably very OOC. There’s also a lot of introspection going on here, most of this is introspection in fact, since I tried challenging myself a bit. I’m sorry!
A/N: So, I'm still alive and writing for these characters, apparently 🤷♀️. It’s been almost a year since I announced my hiatus and well over six months since I posted anything, so: 1) hi again, 2) I’m sorry, and 3) holy fuck, a lot happened since I’ve been away, huh? Anyways, I’ll try to return for good this time! I hope this is alright!
Hvitserk has often, ever since he was a child, caught himself mesmerized -haunted, maybe- by water. By drowning, if he’s a tad more honest.
Ubbe and him never talk about it, not even when in their younger years, quietly, they gave away truths like I hope he never comes back, or when with something darker, something angrier, they reminded each other over the years, I still remember mother’s bruises, or even when they let mead loosen their tongues and admit today to things like I never quite forgave him.
They never talk about it, about her, about what they saw by the edge of that river.
Yet, Hvitserk has seen his elder brother often rush to bring his nieces and nephews back to safety whenever they stray too far into the shallow waters, as if he too sees the hands of a ghost waiting to drag what he loves into the deep; and he noticed the way Ubbe always was paralyzed in fear when he caught himself raising his voice against their mother, as if the knowledge of how much he looks like his father has made him fear the day he becomes like him.
So they never talk about it, but they haven’t forgotten. They never could.
He never could never really understand what drowning feels like, what makes people flail and claw and fight to try and escape, but it never stopped his mind from trying to, and in his nightmares when he was young, it was him his father drowned, it was his own face forced under the still waters as he stood there and watched.
What he has realized, in the aimless musings he allows himself, with his back to a tree in some forest of England waiting for his time on watch to pass, on the nights where sleep eludes him because you aren’t there beside him; is that for as much as the thought of drowning terrifies him, what truly haunts him is the mere idea that he might lose the people he loves to such a horrible fate.
He first realized he feared it so when Ivar almost drowned. It was only the second winter since Ragnar failed to return, and he had argued with Ubbe that he too could be a man, that he too could look after his younger brothers, and while Bjorn took the eldest hunting, Hvitserk took Ivar and Sigurd to the cabin by the river’s edge.
He cannot even remember what Sigurd and Ivar started fighting about, he can only remember he was reaching up to grasp at a pear dangling from a tree, Sigurd and Ivar off his sight for a few moments while he remained close enough to hear his brothers fighting by the pier where they sat. He remembers he was close enough to hear Sigurd’s scream as Ivar fell into the water, yet far enough that he believed the worst had come to pass by the time he dove into the cold water to save his brother.
And he and Ivar do talk about it, when they admit to shameful things like fear of death with small smiles that promise no one but us will know, when they speak of what life before and after their father has been by accompanying each wound with a scoff as if to say but don’t worry about me, when they exchange in truths about what they want most but only in the quiet between battles because accompanying those hopes is the silent admission of if only I were someone else’s son.
So they talk about it, but his brother could never tell him what drowning feels like. He did ask, once, a few days after that incident, and Ivar looked at him blankly and replied with the same thing Hvitserk did when he asked what running felt like, and said, not everything is like something else.
He doesn’t know what drowning is like, he just knows he fears it, he just knows that in some part of his mind he is still haunted by a death that never found him but passed by him, by a ghost that never struck against him but still struck.
But he has learned to overcome it, he has learned to think of drowning and think of Ubbe’s hand on his shoulder shaking him awake from a nightmare where his father’s hands pressed him further and further under the dark water, think of the sound of Ivar crawling towards him on the boat and his grumbling about how much he hates the open water whenever the memory his father’s manic voice telling him to disguise the boats creeps into his thoughts, think of your soft hands cupping his face and your eyes warm with adoration looking into his whenever he feels like being forced under the water by the weight of legacy.
He has learned, and so he isn’t so afraid of drowning anymore, at least not drowning as he used to fear it when he was younger, the drowning of flailing limbs and frantic gasps; and the only drowning he fears now is the one he can’t quite define or understand, the one where someone he loves is holding him underwater, the one where he is watching someone die and does nothing.
But it has been years since he has been afraid of drowning, since he has hesitated before agreeing to join his brothers in a short trip uphill of Kattegat to the river’s edge, since he has flinched when you set your hands on his shoulders as you both enjoy a swim in the warm lake near Thetford.
The last time he remembers feeling that fear was a long time ago. Those first couple of months after first meeting you he’d spend most of his time following you around as you worked, asking questions just to hear you talk, chest growing warm each time he made you smile. So, when one morning he found you waiting for him far from the market where you offered your crafts, and you extended a hand with a smile and asked him if he’d like to go somewhere with you, of course he said yes. He would have done anything to make it so that you kept looking at him like that, so that you kept smiling like that.
You spent the day together, venturing far from Kattegat and into the familiar forests, your hand comfortably in his as you gave away truths about each other, as you traded secrets. When the sun started to fall, he promised to share another secret with you only if you swore never share it with anyone else, and when you agreed, he leaned down and kissed you.
He still remembers what it felt like to feel your lips pull into a smile against his, still remembers the glint in your eye even as you playfully smacked his arm and told him he was a fool.
He might have been, but since that day he has been the only one to kiss you, so he still counts it as one of the best deals he made, however foolish.
Unwilling to let the night end, you had taken him to the edge of the river, watched the moon paint over the calm waters for a few breaths before turning to him, already toeing off your shoes, and daring him to jump in with you.
You hadn’t waited for an answer that time, shrugging off your dress in the blink of an eye and diving into the dark waters without him.
He dove right after you, but try as he might he couldn’t hide from you that it was something more than the desire to join you that drove him in that moment. It had been merely a moment, but his stomach dropped, and his heart felt as if it had stalled its beat, because for a moment, just a moment, you hadn’t surfaced.
Later, while he had convinced himself he had successfully distracted you from remembering anything from that swim aside from his hands and mouth on you, bodies intertwined in a pile of your clothes pretending neither of you were shivering; you asked if you had scared him when you jumped into the river, an adorable tilt to your head and an adoration shining in your eyes that against what his worst thoughts once promised has never faded. Hvitserk chose to tell you about the time Ivar almost drowned when they were children.
Not really a lie, and while he knows that it isn’t enough, he doesn’t know where to start with telling you the truth.
But he tells you, or tries to anyhow, in other ways. He tells you, cannot help but do so, when each morning that finds him with you still in his arms finds him bringing you closer before he has even woken up, a mindless search for the reassurance that you are still there, that you are still real, when the first word that leaves his lips each morning is a call of your name. He tells you when he kisses you goodbye before a battle and grasps your hand to wrap your fingers around a knife, brow pressed against yours and eyes searching your own in the silent request that you promise you’ll do what it takes to keep yourself safe. He tells you after each return from a spring of battle and conquest, when he finds himself absently reaching for you more often than before, chasing after the warmth of your touch and the reassurance of your presence even if through nothing more than a graze of his fingers against yours as you both dine quietly.
He tells you in many ways, and he hopes you understand, he hopes you know that with each whisper of your name in the quiet mornings he is promising I’ll always keep you safe, that with each goodbye he prays is not the last he keeps himself from admitting I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, that with each caress of his hand over your soft skin after too long apart he is reminding the both of you, you brought me home.
It all seems so…insufficient now, and he cannot help the part of him that wonders whether he could have kept you safe if he had told you the truth, about everything, about his fears of losing the people he loves, about how he still feels his Fate has been marked, from beginning to end, by drowning. It is all he has thought about, for as long as he has been in this boat, filled with restlessness and something more bitter, something like fear, as they travel back to what is left of the city where you were waiting for him.
There are few times the Gods have heard him plead, pray.
He did, between hiccupping sobs and hearing Sigurd’s frantic whispers about how he didn’t mean for this to happen, as he tried helping Ivar cough out the water he had almost drowned in, he prayed and pleaded until Ubbe and Bjorn found the three of them and took them home.
He did, hands gripping the railings of the boat that took them home so tightly it hurt for days afterwards, when they got word of Lagertha’s usurping of his mother’s throne, and he was so sure Ubbe had died defending their mother or attempting to avenge her, and prayed to be wrong.
And he does now, because from here he can see the smoke rising over the city where you promised to be waiting for him, and the reality of what has happened is dawning on him, and he prays, he pleads, that the worst hasn’t come to pass, that…that there is something he can do, something he can exchange -his own life, if that is what the Gods demand- to keep you safe, alive.
His breaths stutter past his lips and he grits his teeth to force himself to keep looking at the destroyed city ahead, and he finds himself begging that the Gods allow him just one thing, just this one happiness. He will weather any storm, he will give up anything, he just pleads to whatever might listen that he doesn’t have to give up a life with you beside him, that he doesn’t have to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it.
When he jumps from the boat onto the shallow waters of the shore, he could swear for a moment the electric blue of his father’s eyes is looking back from under the water, but he has no time to dwell on it, for he is running to try to find you before he can think twice about it.
He finally understands now, trying to breathe past the smoke and the fear, searching amongst the bodies littered by the shore for a familiar face and yet refusing to even fathom the possibility that you may be amongst the dead, what drowning is.
Drowning is this. This helplessness, this horror.
He remembers Bjorn’s frown and how alike it was to their father’s, and his brother’s gruff whisper of unhappiness is more common than happiness as they sailed back from Paris with a husk of a father that had been gone long before he slipped away in the first port they docked in.
He remembers all the times he saw the hollowness in Ubbe’s eyes as he let himself linger on the sight of a father with his children, and it is still lodged in Hvitserk’s heart the answer his brother gave when he asked if a simple life would make him happy, we are the sons of Ragnar, is that not enough for any man?
He has seen too many times Ivar’s eyes tinged with blue and his smile tinged with something fragile, and heard too many times the sentence, the promise from a ghost that by his little brother is always voiced as a question, as a plea to have it denied, happiness is nothing.
He remembers all that. And yet, he was foolish enough to tell you, more than once, drunk on love and having lost half his mind to the curve of your smile, you make me happy.
Thinking back on it now, as he searches the town desperately for a glimpse of you; with intrusive thoughts chasing themselves in circles, trying to find something bigger in the sight before him than soot and blood, trying to give to the grief pressing onto his chest a deeper cause than just misfortune, that he walked willingly into those dark waters of his nightmares that first night he spent with you, that every night since, every moment since, have been but him taking another step forwards.
It would have been worth it, to drown, if what robbed him of breath had been the taste of your kiss, but in Hvitserk’s mind the image of himself walking into the deep with your hand in his, dragging you with him, damning you with him.
Someone at his back tells him there is no sign of the group that attacked, that they have left by now. He knows what they mean to tell him by that, he knows it should bring him to his knees to have it confirmed, but he can only manage an absent nod, numbly stumbling over the corpse of a man he once knew, to keep searching.
For all his nightmares where cold hands drag him to the deep, for all his musings where the weight of his father’s rage and his father’s failings push him down onto dark waters, he never quite thought drowning for him would be this, would be just this hollow sinking, this creeping despair making it harder and harder to breathe.
There are no hands dragging him down, there are no cruel faces looming above him, all there is is this horrifying absence, is the painful acceptance that he has lost the ground under his feet. All there is is sinking.
Further into the city he finds the damage isn’t as extensive as in the port and it still looks like the city that saw him kiss you goodbye; that beyond the wall of black smoke still clouding the bloodied streets, there are signs of a fight, of a resistance; that past the smoke there are people moving about, helping the injured and putting out the faint fires.
And hope holds him by the throat, and promises a way out of the water if he just clings to the grip on his throat despite the pain it causes and promises, and Hvitserk’s breath catches, stride suddenly more frantic, more desperate, as he continues searching.
It feels like a last breath, one last gasp before falling into the deep, when he calls out your name.
He is frozen in place as he hears your voice call back, and for a moment he thinks it nothing but a last mercy from Rán as she drags him down in her net, but a familiar figure emerges from behind one of the makeshift barricades, stumbling over a shield as she makes her way to him.
You haven’t made it two steps towards him when Hvitserk is already before you, stumbling, falling, running to hold you again, to wrap his arms around you and remind himself you are safe, to bury his face in your neck and take the gasping breaths of a man that was just pulled from the depths of the sea.
There’s a part of him worrying that he is holding you too tightly, that you might be injured or hurting and he should relax his hold on you, but he can’t make his body obey him right now, he can’t control how tightly he holds your body against his, he can’t control the tremble of his arms, the buckling of his knees as he almost brings you both to the ground.
Your voice, quiet and warm, washes over him as you murmur words he cannot understand right now, what he is sure are promises that you are alright, that it is all alright; and your arms are around him, holding him just as tightly, hands trembling as they cling to the edges of his armor.
Underneath the smoke there I still the faint scent of you, of the lavender oil he has spent many nights tasting on your skin and something softer that is just you, and it helps him slow his breathing, it helps him follow the motions of your hand on his back and find a rhythm.
When his breaths are no longer the desperate gasps for air of a man that understood finally what drowning is from entirely too close, Hvitserk makes himself pull away, just enough that he can rake his eyes over you and see for himself that you are safe, that you are unharmed.
Still, because losing the warmth of your body against his dropped a weight on his chest he wasn’t expecting, he reaches to grasp at your hand tightly, perhaps a tad franticly.
Your smile is trembling but still you reach with your hand to cup the side of his face, a ghost of a caress over his skin that more than ever feels like could break him; and the sight of you now, the feel of you now, is enough to undo him.
Hvitserk leans forward, letting his eyes fall closed as he presses his brow against yours, and though his heart still feels if it had been torn from his chest, and his hand cannot let go of yours no matter how much he tries, with you so close, your lips brushing his, he feels he can finally breathe.
There is much he should tell you, he should give name to the relief making each beat of his heart hurt and say I am so happy you are alright, he should voice his fear if only to be reminded it isn’t real and admit I thought I had lost you, he should give away one more truth and tell you drowning feels like a world without you.
Instead, voice a whisper and breaths one, he says,
“I love you.”
Thank you for reading, hope you liked this! Would you believe me if I told you this started out as a happy/fluffy piece? 🥴
I tried challenging myself and writing something with no dialogue but with a moving plot anyways, and idk if I did well, and I’m sorry if this sucks, but it was fun to write at least!
Anyhow, I’m sorry for the long absence! Tbh I debated a lot on coming back here and posting my stuff again, but for now I’m motivated, and I’m back. Sorta. Kinda. Fingers crossed.
But yeah, I am motivated, and I have a lot of things that I wanna share too, so hopefully I’ll see you again soon!
Taglist (so I don’t know what to do with taglists, I kept them as they were but idk. If you wanna be removed or smth please lemme know)
500 All: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld @stupiddarkkside @northumbria @sagyunaro @aprilivar
500 Hvitserk: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie
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Vikings + their history
Summary: How Vikings would react to finding out that most of their history has been forgotten + a historian offering to write it up
Taglist: @bragisrunes, @demon-of-the-ancient-world, @alicedopey, @angel-gojo-rengoku
Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!
Ragnar
Legacy is so important to him
He’ll tell you everything
Even if it means that only memory of him will be preserved
Very sad that there’s barely any memory of him, so he really does his best
Does get a bit self-glorifying
Lagertha
To her, the little things about her life are more important than the glorious battles
Tells you everything about the ‘hidden’ history of Vikings
Mostly about the household, culture, social hierarchy and stuff like that
Goes into detail
Also gives you material things to help with the knowledge
Aslaug
She gets sad, more so than others
Her part of Viking society is one of the most forgotten
Magic, dreams and foretelling of the future are all important to her
Teaches you like she was taught
She prays to the Gods that now, her life won’t be lost to history
Ubbe
While he’s very interested in the future
He’s of course also sad about the loss of his history
But he’s also a prince, which means he’s a bit out of touch with how things are
He can tell you a lot about politics and ruling, as well as Viking warfare
Hvitserk
He tells you about what he’s seen
So if you write down what he tells you get a viking-prince-slice-of-life sort of account
Culinary history of Vikings? Check
History of Hvitserk’s exes? Check
No doubt will shit talk Ivar and Ragnar
Ivar
All the strategy
Viking warfare genius
A bit self-obsessed, but that’s okay
Also can tell you quite a bit about the Gods and their stories
Plans battles so you can stand on a hill, watch, and write everything down
Edits (*threatens you to give him more content*) your reports with him
Ingrid
Amazing
Great accounts of what it’s like as a slave, which really brings history forward
Very matter-of-factly, she wants her and those with her story to be remembered
Also tells you about Viking witchcraft
If she’s queen, you get to stay with her and write everything down
Gunnhild
Gunnhild really does have experience from all areas of Viking life
From warrior, to queen, to wife she’s checked off almost everything
And she’s objective (and wise, imo)
Really takes her time with you
But she wants to learn from you in return
For every piece of knowledge she gives you, you have to teach her something in return
#gunnhild#ingrid#ivar#hvitserk#ubbe#bjorn#ragnar#lagertha#vikings#ivar the boneless#ivar x reader#history vikings#ivar lothbrok#ragnar x reader#ubbe x reader#bjorn x reader#hvitserk x reader#hvitserk whiteshirt#hvitserk lothbrok#hvitserk vikings#hvitserk ragnarsson
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Modern Hvitserk, he's your middle child who seems to be more or the background black sheep child, he has a rough time making decisions and is a stoner, his drug of choice shrooms. His brothers hate when he's stoned, especially Ubbe. He likes food and drinks coffee to stay alert, a bookworm who chills in his bedroom. He enjoys volunteering at the animal shelter and accidentally finds himself in trouble with the law from sleeping in parks.
#hvitserk#viking#vikings#vikings tv#viking tv#tv#fandom#vikings moodboard#mood#moodboard#asthetic#modern au#hvitserk vikings#vikings hvitserk#shrooms#stoner#hvitserk vikings tv
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Vikings request ragnarsson reaction to ivar dying instead of sigurd
Oh gods this is an extremely tough question but also a very good one, thanks anon 💕✨
Let's see, I am assuming we are following the canon timeline, so if they switched I am also assuming it is Sigurd who killed Ivar? Or Ivar just died?
Before I dive into a cheap analysis, I only want to say that I do like Sigurd's character, I don't think he was flashed out quite enough in the series but I learned to give him a more defined personality in my headcanons so, I'm gonna answer based on this.
And let's start from Sigurd himself. If he had been the one who killed Ivar, then I do imagine that he would feel extremely guilty for the rest of his life. Yes, they hated each other. And yes, they made each other life very difficult, with Sigurd always appearing so particularly prickly against his younger sibling. But in the end, if something so extreme happened by his own hand, I do think Sigurd would be desperate. He would never show his pain. He is too proud. So his pain would mutate, over time, in something like a self-destruction path or a similar internalisation and denial.
But if Ivar just died not by his hand, I don't feel Sigurd would care too much. He would just take his death with a shrug. "Such is life." He would say, or "It was his fate." and I imagine he would even be jealous because Ivar had the chance to reach for Valhalla before him.
Now, another who wouldn't care regardless would be Bjorn. I never pictured Bjorn as a very affectionate guy, may that be with women, family or brothers. The only exceptions may be his mother and Halfdan - MAYBE. So, he wouldn't care much. He too would just shrug it off, probably easily forget about it.
Ubbe and Hvitserk would care much more. I think both would be broken by pain. Ubbe would take it better, but he would probably still try to understand what happened and, in case of a wrong death, he would look for vengeance or some form of justice. (In case Ivar died by Sigurd's hand, probably he wouldn't be too harsh though). Hvitserk would just be devastated. I am talking the whole spiralling on the edge, like he did in S6a. He would look for justice period. (In case Ivar died because of Sigurd, he would never forgive his brother, I don't think.)
Ubbe would eventually recover, but I don't think Hvitserk would ever stop missing Ivar. It is also the reason why I imagine he would carry a token that reminds him of his brother for the rest of his life and he would probably still look for his advice, talking to the wind or to the dark corners of his room. (I know, this is my extremely personal opinion because I adore Hvitserk and Ivar and I consider them the opposite face of the same coin.)
I have this sweet image in my head of them cheering to the Gods and to Ivar, honouring his place in Valhalla and knowing they would have seen each other again, eventually.
#vikings#ivar ragnarsson#ivar lothbrok#ivar the boneless#ivar vikings#hvitserk rangarsson#hvitserk lothbrok#hvitserk vikings#ubbe#ubbe ragnarsson#sigurd lothbrok#sigurd ragnarsson#sigurd snake in the eye#bjorn lothbrok#bjorn ragnarsson#bjorn ironside#bjorn vikings#my asks
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Handsy
Little drabble for my dearest @ofmanderley , from a little chat we had last night where Hvitserk offers to be less annoying in exchange for attention, but what else is new?
Set in the Frankia au, where Aethelred and Hvitserk meet while Rollo is count, after his little adventure in the Mediterranean.
“Hvitserk-“ Aethelred huffed, clear eyes wide and eyebrows to his hairline as he rounded the oaken desk with long strides, Hvitserk’s teasing smile in front of him.
There were days when these little antics amused him; the Viking had invited him in from the moment he stepped into his uncle’s court, all tilted smiles and dangerous eyes, strolling around as if he owned everything in the place. He had all but forced a place for himself in Aethelred’s rooms and heart, and the prince had found that he didn’t mind it when his unlikely companion would barge into his rooms and force him listen to whatever silly thing had caught his attention for the day, playing with his books and grabbing any trinket he might get his anxious hands on.
Aethelred didn’t mind. Mostly. Usually.
Except for today.
Today, Hvitserk had chosen to be annoying.
Aethelred rounded on him, stared at the Viking with all the might he could summon as crown prince of Wessex, praying to God almighty that he would maybe, maybe not act like a child for once and do as he was told. All the while, his friend smiled like a cat with cream, and every war lesson he had had in his life told Aethelred this was some sort of trap.
The prince hummed, leaning forward. His arms on either side of Hvitserk, hands on his hips, thumbs finding skin under the clean shirt Hvitserk wore to draw gentle circles. Eye to eye. One of them had to lead by example and be civil, after all.
“Give that back, now. I will even let you stay.”
“Give what back, huh?”
“The letter, Hvitserk. Give it back before you ruin it with your pagan hands.”
“You like my pagan hands,”
“Yes, I do. But not on my letters,” Especially when they were barely dry oh Lord.
“And where,” Hvitserk started, voice a purr, head tilted, “Do you like my hands on, prince Aethelred?”
Green eyes looked down, to Aethelred’s pink tongue as he wet his lips. The prince knew, then, that he could turn this into a victory for himself.
“Shall we find out, prince Hvitserk?”
#it's literally so short guys#Aethelred#aethelred vikings#prince aethelred#Hvitserk Ragnarsson#hvitserk vikings#hvitserk lothbrok#hvithelred#aethelred x hvitserk#fic by me#ofmanderley#vikings
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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19
An update in less than a month? What is this?
This is the long anticipated update and I'm so excited to share it with you. Please let me know what you guys think!
Words: 5500
Warnings: All the feels! brief violence, language, just grab some tissues.
Series Masterlist
Ivar loathed all hospitals with an unholy passion. Far too much of his childhood was spent surrounded by sterile white walls and people in scrubs giving him pitying looks that boiled his blood. He hated the continuous beeping sounds, that unnatural sterile scent, even the loud-ass flooring that made each step sound like a heavy weight being dropped. He despised everything about hospitals.
But none of that crossed his mind as he stormed into the main lobby of one with the force of an unrelenting tornado.
He slammed his hand down on the counter, feeling his bones rattle and threaten to break but he ignored the pain. He already had one hand in a cast, why not the other?
“Where is Kari Larsen?” He demanded of the two nurses behind the counter.
Neither nurse berated him of how he cut in line, bypassing the four other people, to demand their attention. A fucking miracle. As he stood there, waves of anger and desperation crashing over him, he wondered if they could see it and it kept their mouths shut. Was it so obvious how his edges were fraying? How what sanity he possessed was beginning to crumble until he knew - he could see - that Kari was alive.
One of them glanced over his shoulder, at his father and brother flanking him, and waved him closer. “Give me a moment and I'll check.”
The desire to scream at her to ‘hurry the fuck up’, ‘didn't she know who he was’, and how he wanted to ‘burn this entire building to the ground’ stung the back of his throat. But none of that passed his lips. For immobilizing terror gripped at his heart with claws sunk in deep, making that blackened organ threaten to stutter to a stop. How his lungs ached as if petrifying within his chest causing each breath to be a struggle to take in.
He had promised her.
He fucking PROMISED!
Uncaring of his hardened reputation, of never showing pain, he dropped his head in his hands, the cast rubbing against his cheek. He tried to take a deep breath, but the panic and self-loathing continued to crush his chest like a Medieval torture device. He just needed to know…he needed to see her.
Please…
The nurse's ‘customer' voice broke through his internal panic. “Miss Larsen is still in the emergency room but has been moved to a separate room for examination.”
Ivar moved before the nurse fully finished her sentence. Ignoring all those around him, he stormed through that hospital with only one destination in mind. At this point, he almost wished someone would try to stop him so he could hit someone, just do something instead of feeling like he was falling apart. Anger, he knew. Anger, he could work with. But not this terror, not this panic that was draining his sanity and attempting to suffocate him.
Perhaps, it was the scowl on his face that made people jump out of his way, the aura of danger that radiated off of him, or how he was flanked by his father and brother. With only a few concerned stares from nurses or those that worked there, he guessed they recognized him and his family. He had visited this godforsaken place enough times. Besides, he was a Lothbrok.
And Lothbroks owned this city.
Hvitserk raced ahead to open the doors leading into the emergency area, separate from the main hospital. They passed through without incident, into the chaos and mayhem. Sounds of a baby screaming, raised voices, the tang of blood and antiseptic cleaner, it all assaulted his senses but it barely phased him. There was only one thing he cared about right now.
Marching up to the large desk, he stopped, glaring at the first nurse he came across. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, with a ‘don't give a fuck anymore’ look as she typed away on the computer.
Too bad she had met her match today.
“Kari Larsen. Where is she?” He gritted through his teeth.
The older nurse sighed, looking up at him. “Young man, you need to wait–”
“WHERE IS SHE??!”
Silence echoed in the room. The sudden lack of sound felt like a black hole that suddenly exploded to destroy them all. All eyes turned to the trio at the front desk.
His father put a hand on Ivar's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Most likely intervening before Ivar jumped over the counter and repeatedly stabbed the ugly bitch with that damn pen she kept clicking.
“We received a call from this hospital that Kari Larsen was here. We've come to check on her and I am personally paying for any treatment she receives while here.”
“Fine. Your name, sir?”
“Ragnar Lothbrok.” He smirked lazily. “My information is on file. Send the bill to Mr Weber, the CFO. He knows how to contact me with any further questions.”
The five other nurses behind the desk all stared, one or two having paled at the name of Lothbrok spoken. The older nurse before them began to stutter out a response, her eyes having widened and mouth dropped open, like an wrinkly goldfish.
“Now, you will answer my son's question.” His father's voice hardened in displeasure. “In which room is Kari Larsen?”
“I…um…” One of the nurses stumbled out, clasping a blue patient folder to her chest like it was some shield to protect her from the Lothbrok's wrath. “I brought her for a CT scan…just…fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”
“Excellent, now–” Ragnar started to say but a rasped cry yanked the youngest Lothbrok's attention away.
“Ivar!”
He spun on his heel, facing the hallway just behind him and slightly to his right. All his fear, panic, anger, self-loathing- it all bubbled up to spectacularly erupt as he heard that voice call his name. Her voice! A voice even after three weeks without hearing its sound, he immediately knew. The voice his soul cried out for.
And there she was.
Beautiful…
Perfect…
….with dried blood on the side of her head and splattered on her sweater.
“Kari!” As quickly as his crippled legs could go, he bolted towards her.
At his responding cry, she broke away from the nurse walking next to her. The damn nurse tried to grab her, but Kari shook her hand off and began running.
Running to him!
With tears running down her cheeks.
She slammed into him, almost knocking them over with her momentum. Ivar stumbled back a couple steps, barely catching his footing, but he did not care. She was in his arms. Where she should be. Where she was meant to be. Finally.
As soon as she was enclosed in his arms, face pressed against his chest and hands fisting the front of his shirt, she began sobbing earnestly. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her as physically possible against himself as her whole body shook with each ragged sob.
Hearing her, he wished he could carve his chest open and allow her to crawl in. Fuck, he would do anything to take her pain, to have her even closer, to prove he was never letting her go again.
That he would always protect her.
“I've got you, Kari. I'm here.” The words flowed from him like an anguished prayer. “I'm here, sweet Kari. I'm not going anywhere.”
The scent of blood clung to her but he ignored it for the moment. She was here in his arms. Alive and well.
That was all that mattered.
He could have stood there for all eternity, the world continuing to spin and empires rising and falling without an ounce of care from him. None of it mattered. Three weeks he had been in turmoil and despair, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign from her. Anything to prove she still cared about him, still wanted him. That he had not completely fucked up the best thing in his life with a stupid mistake. He planned on planting roots right here on the dirty hospital floor for as long as Kari needed him. The fucking nurses and other patients could move around his crippled ass.
His father had other plans though.
A tap on his shoulder had Ivar looking up into his father's face, a subtle look of relief there. “There's a room for her. Let's move her there.”
He gave a brief nod. With the movement, he became aware of the moisture on his face. When had he started crying? He had been so absorbed in finally - finally! - seeing his kitten, in holding her and providing any kind of comfort she needed, he had not realized his own roiling emotions had exploded out in tears of relief and gratitude, that he was practically bleeding out his stress and harbored despair. And for one of the first times in his life, he did not care if others saw his tears.
Somehow he coaxed Kari along as he followed his father. A strange dance as they moved since she seemed to have no inclination of letting him go. Not that he objected in any way. It was in moments like this he cursed his legs, for if he was whole-bodied he could have picked Kari up and carried her. Instead, with an arm tight around her shoulders and her pressed against his side, refusing to release her vice-like grip on his shirt, they slowly moved.
The ‘room’ they were directed to was just a curtained off section with a single bed, single chair and some monitors pressed against the wall behind the bed. Similar to the many other sectioned off ‘rooms’ of patients waiting to be moved on or sent home.
Carefully, Ivar maneuvered Kari and himself to sit on the hospital bed. She curled against him, her ear against his heart and one hand toying with his Mjölnir necklace. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His other hand's fingers were intertwined with hers in his lap.
Like sentinels, his father sat in the chair, sharp gaze shifting from the closed curtain to his youngest son, while his brother took up position next to their father, arms crossed over his chest. The two began whispering but Ivar only briefly noted their presence.
His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something.
“What was that, kattungen?”
“You came.” She breathed, her voice raspy and shaky as if holding back more tears. “I gave them your number. I–I wasn't sure if you'd come. I just...I was scared and wanted you.”
How was it possible with such a simple statement, it completely disarmed him. His heart lurched at hearing the undercurrent of fear in her voice, sounding like a child admitting they were scared of the dark. What was worse, what broke his heart, was her fear that he would not come. That he would abandon her.
He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a slow syrup-like kiss, hoping his actions and words would penetrate through her worry. “I'll always come for you.”
“Please don't leave.”
He tipped his head up for a moment, a useless act to try and stop the fresh wave of tears from flowing freely down his cheeks. “I promise.” His voice broke as he answered. “I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you.”
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She sobbed out, clinging to him even tighter if possible.
“Shhh…it's okay. Let's focus on getting you out of here, okay?”
She nodded, a faint thing, but he felt it for how tightly she was pressed against him.
A couple minutes later, a doctor stepped behind the curtain, joining the crowded space. He paused a moment, seeing to register the group along with his patient. He cleared his throat loudly before glancing down at the folder in hand.
“Good day, I'm Doctor Schultz, the attending doctor here today. Miss Larsen?” The doctor paused, eyes focused on his patient.
When she did not respond, Ivar squeezed her hand. “It's okay, søte Kari, I'm here.”
“Yes, doctor?” She quietly, hesitantly, said.
“How are you feeling?”
With that fucking stupid question, Ivar wanted to punch the absolute, incompetent asshole of a doctor but settled for glaring at him over Kari's head.
“I've been better.” She replied.
The doctor smiled. “I'm sure. The good news is your scans came back clean. You do not appear to have any cranial or brain damage more than a concussion.” He hesitated, as if rolling around a question in his mind before carefully allowing it out. “Is there anywhere else that hurts? My understanding is the paramedics said you were initially screaming when they arrived on scene.”
“Doctor, can you explain what occurred? We were not told about the incident beyond the fact that she was being attended to at this hospital.” Ragnar broke in, his voice broking no argument that his question would be answered first.
“Of course. Miss Larsen and a companion were involved in a car accident. It appears another driver was not paying attention and drove through a red light, impacting their vehicle.”
A car accident.
A goddamn car accident.
Inhaling sharply, Ivar felt the air stick to his lungs like glue. Mentally he thanked the gods, Fate and anyone listening for keeping Kari safe. The outcome could have been very different.
“Is Erik okay?” The quiet query came from beside Ivar.
“I'm not supposed to speak of other patients,” the doctor said but his face softened as he looked at Kari, “but I just saw him and he sustained more injuries than you. He likely will be walking out of here later today.”
“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten.
“My neighbor. He was driving us to the grocery store.”
Erik. Fucking Erik. Ivar did not like the overly friendly neighbor, the twat was trying to encroach on HIS territory. Now hearing this, he hated the man even more. The accident may not have been entirely his fault, but Kari was injured and traumatized while in his presence. That was unforgivable.
“Miss Larsen, is there anywhere that hurts? You were fairly nonverbal when you arrived.”
“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”
“May I take a look?”
Ivar loathed to separate from her, but he removed his arm from behind her so the doctor would examine her. Damn, if he was going to move though. Plus with the way Kari did not release his hand, he doubted she wanted him further away.
The doctor opened his mouth, but at the look that promised death on Ivar's face, he wisely did not ask Ivar to move.
“Hmm.” The doctor hummed as he looked at Kari's neck and ran a hand along the slender column. Gently, he tugged the neckline of her sweater to see better after touching it and asking if his touch caused pain.
Ivar gritted his teeth, as he glared with disdain at the invasive doctor. He was ready to intervene any moment the doctor went too far in his opinion but a purposeful squeeze from Kari's hand brought him back down. To distract them both, he brought their entwined fingers to his mouth. Teasingly, he kissed each of her knuckles as he held eye contact and gave a cheeky wink. His heart soared as a faint blush warmed her cheeks and a small, shy smile turned the corners of her lips up.
“Well, Miss Larsen,” the doctor stepped back and scribbled on his chart, “I do not see anything too concerning. I suspect the pain is from whiplash and the seat belt tightening. I can already see some bruising beginning on your shoulder, which may worsen. Unless the pain dramatically increases, you will be fine. You will be sore for a few days. My suggestion is to take some over the counter pain meds and rest for the next several days. If the pain worsens, either in your body or your head, come back to the ER. Any increasing headaches, double vision, spots in your vision, fainting, anything along those lines, please return and we will check on your concussion again. Before I release you, do you have anywhere to stay that someone can watch over you?”
“She's staying with me.”
Both the doctor's and Kari's gazes swung back to him but he only stared resolute at the man that needed to hurry the fuck up.
“Alright…Miss, are you agreeable to that?”
She nodded silently.
“Good. One final question, the paramedics were quite concerned about your hysterics. They made note that you only seemed to calm once they helped you out of the vehicle and even then you were silent and unresponsive for a period of time. Do you remember any of this?”
“Yes.” She croaked out, a violent shiver shaking her fragile form.
“Can you explain what happened?”
“Is this fucking necessary?” Ivar seethed, curling his arm protectively around her and tugging her back into his side.
“I would like to follow through with–”
Ragnar stood up, blue eyes hard as ice as he stared down the doctor. “Thank you for your time and follow through. If you can finalize the release paperwork, we will be on our way and allow you to move on with your many other patients.”
Bewildered gaze swinging to every person in the room, as if silently questioning Ragnar's subtle rebuke, the doctor sharply exhaled and stepped back to the closed curtain. “I will send a nurse in to provide the paperwork.”
With that the intrusive doctor swung open the curtain and strutted away.
Once out of sight, Ivar mumbled, “thought he'd never fucking shut up.”
“Be nice.” Kari murmured without any heat in it, more as if it was a reflex.
Ragnar stepped around the bed and began rustling through the small rolling cart beside the bed. He came back around with an antiseptic wipe. Ivar watched as his father ripped it open and then delicately wiped away the lingering blood on her temple and ear, with far more physical tenderness than he had ever shown his sons. Kari hissed at the initial contact but did not pull away, closing her eyes and slowly taking deep breaths.
Once cleaned to his satisfaction, Ragnar tossed the wipe into the nearby bin. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as if steeling himself for something. Ivar glanced over at his brother, who just shrugged, his own gaze focused on their father.
Ragnar crouched down, bringing himself eye level with Kari instead of standing over her like he had done. “Kari, do you want to leave?” He asked softly.
What kind of dumbass question was that? Ivar opened his mouth to intervene but a cutting look from Ragnar had him almost biting through his tongue to keep quiet.
“Yes.” She rasped back.
“Mmm…” Ragnar nodded. “I need you to look at me, yeah? Good girl. Will you be comfortable riding in a car after this?”
Kari tensed and Ivar wanted to bash his own head against the nearest wall. Of fucking course! Why had he not thought of that yet?
“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”
“No, Kari. Don't be sorry.” Ivar pressed his forehead to her uninjured temple. “We'll figure something out. It's not your fault.”
Ragnar spoke again, all soft edges and thoughtfulness. “Driving Ivar's car back would be the easiest and fastest. If you are uncomfortable with that, we can find an alternative mode of transportation or we can ask a nurse to mildly sedate you.”
With a tremor in her voice, she stated, “I can try. I think I can do it. Just…could you maybe drive slow?”
Ivar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent encouragement, astounded by her quiet bravery.
“I'm certain we can manage that.” Ragnar grunted, amusement in the quirk of his lips. “One last question.”
She nodded hesitantly.
“I need to know, if while we are driving, will you start screaming?”
This time she answered shakily. “No.”
“Do you recall why you were screaming at the accident?”
“Father.” Ivar growled, disliking this turn of questioning.
“I need to know for our safety.” He returned his sharp gaze back to Kari, but did soften his voice.“Do you remember?”
“Memories.”
“Memories?” Ragnar repeated.
She hummed.
“Were you in a car accident recently?”
“No…”
“That's enough.” Ivar snarled, tugging her closer into his side, as her quivering began anew. Whether it was those memories or fear that caused her bodily reaction, he refused to let his father bully her into an answer. He had promised to protect her…even if it was from his father's interrogation.
Icy blue eyes shifted from his youngest to the trembling, young woman in his arms before nodding and rising back to his feet. “I'll be back.” He swept out of the small room, the curtain fluttering closed behind him.
“I'm sorry.” She whispered, just before pressing a hand to her mouth and releasing a shaky sob.
Ivar held her close, sheltering her from her own turbulent emotions, as she tucked her face against him. Careful not to disturb her more, he wiped away the residue of tears from his cheeks with his right hand, mindful of his cast.
At the feeling of being watched, he met his brother's eyes from across the small closet of a curtained room. His favorite brother had always been an open book, easy to read his emotions. Even now, the relief and concern for Kari was evident in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded slowly and deliberately toward the woman in his arms. Ivar nodded in reply. A silent conversation but Ivar knew what it meant.
Whatever you need. I'll be there.
Several minutes later, when Kari's quiet sobs transitioned to sniffles, a nurse arrived with a clipboard and release papers. She nervously asked the two men in the room to step outside so she could ask Kari some questions privately. Ivar's hackles immediately rose, a scathing retort on his tongue ready to unleash on the nurse but a squeeze of his hand made the words fade away.
“I'm okay.” Those blue-green eyes held his, even though red rimmed and watery, he still thought they were one of his most favorite sights. “It'll only be a minute.”
“I'll be just on the other side of the curtain.” He promised, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Call out if you need me, kattungen.”
The subtle blush that arose on her cheeks drew a wicked smile to his lips. Before he could swoop in and kiss her, making them both forget the outside world, Kari lightly pushed on his chest.
“Go.”
“As my priestess commands.”
Her quiet laughter followed him out of the room, lightening his darkened heart like an eternal candle. Hvitserk closed the curtain behind them, taking up a position mirroring his own, standing guard in front of the room.
Other patients and nurses moved about the long hallway, some staring at the two brothers, but they were mostly ignored, the chaos and mayhem of the emergency room taking precedence.
Ivar closed his eyes, rubbing a hand along his forehead to try and encourage the brewing headache to fuck off.
“How are you holding up?”
He did not even open his eyes as he heard his brother's question. The exhaustion he had been fighting, dulled by the adrenaline from the phone call and finding Kari, now hit him like a semi truck. At this rate, it was debatable if he would actually be able to fall asleep or his body would crash into a coma, forcing him to rest. He just needed to get Kari to his house. If he could get the two of them there, then they could both rest and recover….and he could beg for her to never leave him again.
He released a long sigh. “I need a cigarette.”
“Want to step out? I'll stay with Kari.”
For a second, he considered it but ultimately shook his head. “I'm not leaving her.”
“What's your plan now? Sounds like you offered for her to stay with us.”
“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”
Hvitserk nudged him with his elbow. “You know it's not. Just…make sure that is what SHE wants.”
“I know.” Ivar ran his hand over his head. “I need her close by. After this…I need to know she's okay.”
“Well, with the way she wouldn't let you go, I think the feeling is mutual.”
Ivar chuckled quietly, warmth flooding his entire body at the reminder. He thought that perhaps she had forgiven him and they could move forward after this. Whatever that looked like, he would take. As long as she was by his side, he did not care what title it held. He just needed her. She was his morning sunrise, the stars in his night sky. Without her, his world was dark and filled with pain and anger.
A new set of footsteps coming down the hallway had the brothers looking up. At the face that came into view, Ivar's fatigue drained away again. Fury pulsated like a second heartbeat in his chest, shooting its tendrils throughout his body like a living organism.
Without a second thought, his feet moved.
The nurse walking with the man seemed to take note of Ivar first and her face paled. She halted, eyes darting around as if searching for help, for someone to intervene. It was only then her patient took notice.
But it was too late. It was time to pass the man's sentence and in this case, Ivar was judge, jury and executioner.
He stormed up to the man, with rage a phantom above him and vengeance nipping at his heels. “You stay the fuck away from Kari. This is your fucking fault she's here!”
“No, the other driver–” Erik tried to defend himself but Ivar was beyond caring about excuses.
Ivar shoved him. Hard.
Erik stumbled back and fell on his ass, unable to fully stop his fall with his right arm in the sling. A pained hiss slipped from his lips as his body jolted at hitting the floor.
“Sir, you can't–” the nurse tried to step in but Ivar pointedly ignored her, his full attention at the man sprawled at his feet.
“I don't give a fuck! You stay the fuck away from her!”
He took a step back, his eyes, cold as stone, stared the man down as if daring him to say anything. He could see the scattering of cuts on Erik's face and body, most likely from the airbag, the arm sling, and the wrap around his knee. None of it phased the Lothbrok. He did not give a flying fuck about him or his injuries. Under Erik's watch, Kari had gotten hurt. Something that would NEVER happen again.
Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Ivar turned to head back to his brother when he heard the resentful mutter behind his back.
“Psycho asshole.”
He could feel the insult sink in and flow through every part of his body. His concern had been for Kari, with keeping her safe. But now, with that one utterance…the idiot had made this personal.
Before Erik blinked, Ivar had whipped around and grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt. He hauled him up roughly to stare into his face. The youngest Lothbrok reveled in the shock and fear that coated the blond's face. People always forgot that he spent a good portion of his life crawling around when his legs were unusable due to surgeries or pain, which built up his upper body strength. Even now, he still enjoyed working out his upper body, being as strong as possible, proving he was more than his useless legs.
“You want to say that to my face, you little fucker?” He sneered. “Huh?”
“IVAR!”
At the shout of his name, he looked over his shoulder. Hvitserk stood beside Kari, the latter with a hand over her mouth and beseeching eyes wide. A few paces in front of them stood his father, the one who called his name, poised ready to intervene and yank his son away.
Without remorse, Ivar roughly let go of Erik. “Stay away from her, or I won't be so nice next time.” With the threat looming above them, he turned and headed back to his family…
…Back to his kitten and hopefully away from this fucking awful place.
“Kari, you don't have to go with him!”
Ivar froze. Again.
“I–I can drive you home. I'll be discharged soon if you'll just…wait.”
The entire hall waited with baited breath. Only the sounds of the machines beeping could be heard.
Yet his whole world had narrowed down to Kari. His eyes zeroed in on her, waiting, watching, for a sign, a subtle hint, instruction on what to do next. Did he go to her? Or was she terrified of him once again? Should he turn around and rip that little fucker's spine out of his body? As these questions whirled about like a chaotic storm, his feet remained firmly planted.
Until her.
Like a sunbeam breaking through the darkest storm, that was his Kari.
His light. His life.
With his name on her lips but no sound uttered, she held out her hand for him. Those stunning eyes focused on him, calling, summoning, drawing him in.
And like a moth to the flame, he followed. But instead of death being at the source of light for him, there was the brightest joy and affection, belonging and loyalty.
He reached out, taking her hand as he got closer and drew her back to his side. He planted a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Let's go home, kattungen.”
Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik.
They followed Hvitserk and Ragnar out to Ivar's car. Ragnar drove with his son in the passenger seat, and Ivar and Kari in the back. Kari was still tucked in his side, head on his shoulder and holding hands.
As the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her body began to subtly shake. Ivar tugged her onto his lap and began softly speaking, trying to soothe her in his native tongue. Like a child, she tucked her face into his neck as if to hide from the world. Her hand gripped his with a death grip, but he paid no mind, encouraging and comforting however he could.
About halfway through the drive, Kari finally spoke, her trembling having subsided. “Why do you have a cast?”
He glanced down at the damn thing laying across her thighs. “Broke my hand.”
“How?”
“Boxing.”
“Hmmm…did you win?”
He snorted, glancing at her, meeting her face with a small smile. “I always win.”
“Uh huh. Sure you do.” She rasped out, her voice sounding a little stronger but still rough.
“Are you teasing me right now?”
She mock-gasped. “No one would dare tease you.”
He squeezed the top of her knee, making her squirm and squeak. “And you remember that.”
The conversation died out; silence reigned for a while. Ivar rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand as he rested his head on top of hers with eyes closed. Exhaustion crept back in once again, tugging his eyelids shut and numbing his mind. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, with Kari joining him, and lock his bedroom door so no one could bother them for at least three days. Maybe a week.
“Oh no!” Kari gasped, abruptly sitting upright.
Her sudden startle, sent a shockwave through him. He bolted upright, mind racing. “What?”
“All my groceries. They were in the back of Erik's car. I don't– I don't have money to buy more.”
He chuckled, tugging her back to lean against him. He could not believe she would panic over such a small thing. “Don't worry about it. I've got it.”
“But, that's not–”
“Kari,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I'll take care of it. Understand?”
“Yes.”
She answered correctly but he could see - could sense - her hesitation, that wavering confidence. Something he needed to alleviate.
He released her chin to tenderly caress her cheek before guiding her forehead to press against his. “I'll take care of you.” He repeated, hoping his words would sink into her mind and plant there, for he meant every one. “Whatever you need. Groceries. New clothes. A car. I'll get it, you just tell me. Okay?”
“You don't have to. It's not–”
“I want to.” He interrupted. “I want to take care of you. Don't you understand. I…I failed you but that won't happen again. Please, kitten. Please, just let me do this.”
Time paused as he waited for her reply, for her agreement, for a sign. Anything! Forehead still pressed to his, she slowly breathed. Panic might have crept in to discourage him if he had not been able to feel her hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She was still so relaxed, so trusting, in his lap. He knew all he had to do was wait.
And so he waited for her.
Like he promised he would.
Finally, she quietly sighed out her response before slipping back against his chest and cuddling close. “Thank you, Ivar.”
A wave of gratitude and affection filled his soul. A dopey grin on his face, he tugged her closer and laid his head back on hers.
“Anything for you, Kari.”
Tag List:
@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got
#to call forth love#vikings#vikings fanfiction#vikings fanfic#vikings au#vikings ivar#ivar#ivar the boneless#ivar lothbrok#ivar x oc#ivar x ofc#ragnar#vikings ragnar#hvitserk vikings#hvitserk lothbrok#mz writes
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New Marco!! 🩷🩷
#marco ilsoe#marco ilsø#hvitserk vikings#hvitserk ragnarson#hvitty#history vikings#vikings#hvitserk lothbrok#hvitserk x reader#vikings hvitserk
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Where Am I?*Introduction/Part One
Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, (future) Bjorn
Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies
Word Count: 2445
Warnings: time travel being possible, bullying, getting chased by some very confused vikings, imprisonment
Masterlist Here
"Cmon Jason. Give it a rest," you heard one of his friends tell him, but you were already crossing the bridge to get away from them.
You'd came to the park after school to relax after yet another hellish day of studying. You were a history student, obsessed with the Vikings, and sadly for some reason Jason's enemy number one. Apparently, the frat boy still held a grudge for the time you rejected him last year and decided to make your life a misery.
As you were halfway across the bridge you heard laughing then footsteps and just as you went to turn you felt him grab your bag off your shoulder. Well, he tried. You grabbed it back, yelling "help!" As his other friend tried to help him pull it away.
You glanced behind you to see if anyone was near but no. You were alone of the bridge 6 feet at least above the deep lake. "Dude!" You heard the friend again as your head whipped back around.
"fine!" Jason yelled as he let go of the bag just as you had attempted to tug it from him. "Wait no!" You heard his voice before you felt the wood dig into your back and then heard a sickening snap.
You screamed as you felt the wind rush past your face, hair whipping around as your body hurtled headfirst towards the water. You felt your head sink in and the water ring in your ears like church bells as your eyes screwed up tight.
You waited for your head to crash against the rocks but instead felt your legs hit the soft ground, your butt and shoulders soon following. Your head hit the ground gently as a groan left your lips. As your eyes opened you realised not only did you feel no water or soggy clothing but that a scattered sunlight was washing over your face.
"What the-" you muttered as you sat up. Your guitar bag was still clutched in one hand, your backpack hooked around your elbow, and now your earphones had been tossed behind you during the fall. That however did not concern you as much as the overwhelming greenery.
The Forrest around you had winding trees up to the sky with whispers of squirrels and rabbits in the background. You pulled yourself to your feet as your eyes scanned the woods. "Where am I?" You muttered as you grabbed your headphones and shoved them in your bag.
You checked your phone however there was not only no signal but now the time had become dashes alongside the battery percentage. The Wi-Fi and Bluetooth signals were now just colourful blobs and even when you tried opening the emergency number call it refused to let you punch in the digits. You sighed and turned it off, hoping that by the time you found your way out the Forrest it would have rebooted so you could call your parents or maybe even a hospital since you'd obviously hit your head very hard.
You put the phone in your bag and zipped it up, even using the number lock your mother insisted you put on it to keep your bag safe. You weren't sure which way to go. After all no matter where you walked you could either be going closer or further to whatever destination would be the safest.
Fuck it. You thought. There's only one way to find out. You walked through the forest, not even trying to not step on twigs or ruffle leaves since you were probably just far deeper into the campus woods than you'd ever been before. However, then you heard voices.
Well laughter really. At least three men. Your footsteps slowed encase Jason and his friends had somehow made you lose your mind and we're torturing you but no. Instead, you held back a gasp as you peaked through the leaves to see four men with their backs to you.
One was sat on a log playing with what looked like a dagger while another two practised throwing axes. Fuck. All three were dressed as if they were Vikings. Perhaps you'd been studying them too much and had officially lost your marbles.
Or perhaps the other Viking nerds in your school had formed a club. As you debated taking a step forward one of the men missed his throw causing another to yell out a jab. As the man span round to answer his eyes stopped when he saw you. His hand shot out to nudge the man next to him who turned around.
He was a brunette man with a long braid down how back "I'm Ubbe," the boy called as he stepped forward, "Who are you? Why are you here?" He called however your eyes wandered down then widened as you saw him gripping his axe.
"Tell us!" The boy who had missed called, stepping closer. Your eyes wandered to the third who was reaching for something in his belt when you finally made up your mind.
Run. You turned, sprinting as fast as your legs could carry you. Your feet hammered against the dirt as their shouts echoed through the forest. You didn't dare glance back or stop for the branches whipping against your face. There was finally a break in the trees. Freedom. Safety you thought.
As you ran you arrived at the top of a hill. You turned to look down, expecting to see your campus when dread filled your blood. No this wasn't real. A village of Vikings now looked up at where you stood on the hill.
You stood for a moment panting as you overlooked it all. That was until you heard them again. "Stop right there!" Ubbe all but screamed.
You ran again. To your left was a high cliff facing a grey blue ocean and to your right was 3 very angry looking Vikings. You decided to take your chances with the clueless as you barrelled down the hill into what looked to be like a market.
Despite being the least terrifying person here they all jumped out your way, gasping and screaming as you ran all while Ubbe and the others chased you.
You were running towards a bridge by a stream and decided for one last second to glance behind you. They were just running around the corner when you felt a hand grab your foot as the other got swept up in the air.
It was as if your body took flight as you fell to the ground with a large thump. You groaned as you tried to pick yourself up just for a large hand to grab your shoulder and flip you on your back.
As you stared at his electric blue eyes your own eyes widened. "Ivar?" You whispered and his eyes widened so much you wondered if it hurt however just as he went to speak Ubbe pulled him off him.
Ubbe. Your brain clicked. There's no possible way. It couldn't be. Surely not. Ubbes hand pulling you to your feet. "I asked you a question," he growled as you gasped for air. As much as you wanted to be tough and brave and all the other things these Vikings were being faced to face to Ubbe was too much as the spots began to cloud your vision and you felt your body fall limp as the world faded to black.
-
As you began to stir you half expected to open your eyes and see your dorm room, but the hard stick pressed against your spine made you doubtful. Your eyes opened to find yourself in a wooden cage in the corner of what looked like a bedroom. It was dark and suddenly felt very small as your hands grabbed the bars as you began to shake them.
“Fuck,” you grunted as you hit your hand against the frame but instead of it budging now your hand just hurt. Before you could try for any longer you froze when you saw the door slowly push open.
“I see what you mean,” a woman’s voice muttered as she approached your cage. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her or the men behind her, “What is she wearing?” she whispered.
“We don’t know,”
“We found her like this,”
“Do you think she’s a witch?” you felt your blood run cold at the man’s word.
The woman stood up and turned to what you soon realised were her sons. In fact, now you realised who they all were. It was Sigurd who’d claimed you may be a witch but how could he possibly be real? He was a tv character after all.
“Perhaps but we cannot know for sure yet,” Aslaug whispered to her son, “Can you speak child?” she called out to you as if she was shouting on a dog. Your head raised so you could get a better look, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.
“What are we going to do?” Ubbe asked. As the four spoke amongst themselves you realised one was missing. Ivar was nowhere to be seen.
“Your father should be home any day now. We will wait for him,” Aslaug finally determined, “I have never seen someone like this. I do not wish to find out what harm she can cause alone,” with that the four turned to leave, shutting the door and leaving you in the stale dark once more.
You sighed as you leaned back against the cage however as your eyes scanned the room you noticed your bags sitting in the corner making your head instantly perk up. You knew you didn’t have anything sharp in it but as your stomach rumbled you realised what you did need. Food.
As you began to wonder how you would get to your things you heard the door crack open. You looked up as Ivar dragged himself into the room, constantly checking over his shoulder before he shut the door and brought himself over to your cage. His eyes scanned your frame as you brought your knees to your chest and hugged them tightly.
“Who are you?” he murmured, his eyes landing on your face, “and how do you know my name?” the silence that followed was only broken by the loud rumble of your stomach once more as you winced. “You’re hungry?” he asked.
Finally, you nodded, and a smile quirked onto his lips, “So you do understand?” you nodded again, “If you tell me who you are I’ll bring you something to eat,”
You paused as you decided if it was worth breaking the façade, you’d created but as your stomach churned you realised starving to death before Ragnar returned was not worth it. you whispered your name, but your voice was hoarse from lack of use.
Ivars’s head tilted slightly as his eyebrows knitted, “What a usual name,” he mused.
You bit back a laugh. “Coming from Ivar the boneless,” you muttered.
His eyes widened, a look of what you couldn’t tell if shock or rage or both washed over his face. “What did you call me?” he half yelled, grabbing onto the bars of the cage you were suddenly thankful for.
“It’s what everyone calls you!” you rushed out, pushing yourself as far away as possible, “In the textbooks that’s what legend says you were called I’m sorry,”
He paused, his hands slipping from the bar as the confused look returned, “What is a textbook?”
“Like a history book,” you said but that did little to explain it to him, “It’s like- “you paused trying to think what the closest thing to a Viking textbook was, “It’s like how you pass down stories in songs! We write them down in textbooks, so nobody forgets,”
Ivar paused for a moment as he finally relaxed again, “Where did you come from?” he asked, “And how do they know who I am? What have you told them?”
“I haven’t told them anything, my teachers they taught it to me,” you said, finally allowing yourself to sit at ease again, “I’m from the future,” the words felt foreign in your mouth as Ivar’s blue eyes widened.
“Prove it,”
“You’re Ivar the boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok,” you spoke but your voice was shaky as you tried to remember all you could, “Brother of Bjorn Ironside who explored the Mediterranean sea. Son of Aslaug. You go on to command the great heathen army,” you said and as you spoke Ivar looked like a child being read a bedtime story about pirates and mermaids, “You Ivar are a legend where I am from,” perhaps bending the truth a little but what would he know.
“And who- “
You cut him off this time when you felt your stomach lurch, “You said you would feed me. I won’t tell you anything else till you live up to your word,” you tried to sound firm, but it clearly wasn’t your style.
Still though Ivar nodded as he slowly began to drag himself away, “I shall return,” he said as he opened the door, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Don’t go anywhere,” he teased before shutting the door behind him.
You rolled your eyes as you sunk back into the wood behind you. “Oh god he really is nuts,” you whispered. Then again perhaps it was you that was nuts. After all you had just been talking to a Viking who’d died thousands of years ago.
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#vikings#vikings x reader#vikings imagine#vikings fanfic#vikings x you#ubbe x reader#ubbe#ubbe imagine#ubbe ragnarsson#ubbe ragnorsson x reader#sigurd ragnarsson#sigurd ragnorsson x reader#sigurd x reader#sigurd#sigurd snake eye x reader#hviserk#hvitserk x reader#hvitserk ragnarsson#hvitserk ragnarsson x reader#ivar x reader#ivar#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnorsson#ivar ragnarsson x reader
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Vikings ask who is hvitserk favourite brother
I’m gonna say Ivar, but let me explain.
He “jumped ship” to stay with Ivar, they conquered York together and then conquered Kattegat, the thing is, since day one, Hvitserk felt something different when it came to Ivar, without even completely understanding what it was, he feared what he could become but, at the same time, he wanted to witness everything because he knew Ivar would be great and he wanted to be by his side, unconsciously. When he was on his low, he didn’t have the support from anyone, not from Ubbe, not from Bjorn, the only one who could put him back on his feet was Ivar, and for that he was grateful until the end, so was Ivar for having him back on his life. They were meant to end up together.
#vikings#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnarsson#hvitserk ragnarsson#hvitserk#hvitserk vikings#ivar x hvitserk
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