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Truth or Dare
Pairing: ivar x reader
Word count: 1101
Warnings: ivar being insecure, drinking, brief mentions of sex, kissing
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Growing up with the Ragnarssons got you in a lot of well questionable situations but tonight was also one of them. Except at least no one wanted to kill anyone. Yet. The night is young after all. “I dare you to,” Ubbe began, drunkenly waving his cup at Sigurd, “to down that whole horn of mead in one,” he said as Sigurd rolled his eyes while Hvitserk, Ivar, and you cheered him on.
“Fine, fine,” he eventually gave in with a smile, drinking the alcohol he’d been avoiding all night in 10 seconds flat. “Now,” he said, eyes wandering the circle. You were all sat a few feet from the bustling hall where they were celebrating their return from the latest raid, but this was far more your style. Even as Sigurd pointed his finger at you, you smiled, “Truth or dare?”
“Hmm,” you wondered which would get you in worse bother considering the four drunk men you considered your closest friends. “Truth,” your response was met with groans and even Ivar leaned over to whisper ‘coward’ in your ear.
“True or false,” he started, his eyes dancing in a way that made you nervous, “You and Leif,” he said, eyebrows raised making Ubbe and Hvitserk ooo at you, but Ivar stayed silent.
You rolled your eyes at Sigurd, “That wasn’t a question,”
“Please you know what I’m going to ask,”
“Whatever do you mean dear Sigurd?” you smiled, batting your lashes at him.
“You’ve fucked?” Hvitserk jumped in and the boys’ cackles almost covered up the low growl from Ivar but none of them seemed to notice.
You shot him a quick look before answering, “No,” you said and Ivar’s shoulders finally untensed.
“But you’ve kissed?” Ubbe said, making things worse instantly.
You rolled your eyes once more before taking a drink out of your flask, “No you only get one question. Now Ivar truth or dare?”
As you turned to face the blue-eyed boy you did your best not to stare too obviously at his face. You weren’t sure why or when your crush started on Ivar, but it was getting harder to ignore the older you both got. However, after a few beats of silence he finally spoke, “I do not wish to play anymore, I am tired. goodnight,”
All four of you watched after him as he dragged himself away however he wasn’t heading home. “What’s wrong with him?” Sigurd asked as Ivar disappeared into the forest tree line.
“I’m gonna go- “a staggering Ubbe said as he tried to stand but you quickly pushed him back down and stood.
“I’ll go,” you said, not even turning back to chastise their whoops and Woo’s.
It didn’t take long to find Ivar with his eyes closed and back against a tree. As you walked you tried to be quiet, but you heard a twig snap and Ivar sigh. You grimaced as you moved to sit down next to him though he still would not open his eyes. “What is the matter Ivar?”
“It’s nothing,”
“Please Ivar,” you said, sighing before deciding to try make him laugh, “You’re never this calm when your upset,” you joked but he only sighed once more.
Finally, though he opened his eyes, but he looked straight forward. He took a deep breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he spoke, “You never answered the question,”
“What question?”
“Ubbe’s question,” he said, his voice straining as you noticed him gripping his hand into a fist.
You paused for a moment before you realised, letting out a sigh of relief, “No Ivar. I haven’t kissed him. Is that what upset you?” he said nothing again, closing his eyes once more. “Ivar please what is wrong? Why does it bother you who I kiss?”
“It doesn't- I mean I- “he sighed, his breathing becoming heavier, “I just didn’t want to be the last one to have ever kissed someone. That’s it. okay?” he said, finally turning to look at you with a glare behind his eyes. Most would flinch under his gaze, but your face softened when you saw the hurt behind his eyes, “And I didn’t want to wait around for someone, even you, to ask me a stupid question like that,”
“Ivar- I wouldn’t have asked you that,” you said as his eyes fell to the floor, “I didn’t know you hadn’t kissed anyone either,”
“You- “Ivar paused, lifting his head, “You’re lying,”
“Am not!” you protested, “Why would I lie?”
“To make me look less stupid?”
You laughed at that, shoving his shoulder, “Where would the fun in that be? If anything, I’m more surprised you haven’t kissed someone,”
Ivar rolled his eyes, “Yeah right. Who would want to kiss me?” he said as he turned his gaze to you. his eyes knocked the wind out your lungs and for a moment you considered not saying anything.
“I would,” you finally said, your voice soft.
His eyes perked up at your words though, no longer able to take it back, “You would?” he asked, and you nodded gently. Another few moments of silence passed before he cleared his throat, “Perhaps it would be better for us to be each other’s first kiss. So, we can um learn what to do,” he said as his eyes fell once more to the floor.
“Perhaps,” you said, shuffling closer, “Ivar?” you said, your head instinctively leaning closer to his so that when he looked up his nose brushed yours, “Would you like to kiss me?” you asked, his breathing fanning your lips.
Ivar swallowed hard, his eyes darting to your lips, “Yes,” he eventually breathed out, “I would like that very much,”
He stayed frozen but slowly your lips dipped in till they brushed against his. Fuck it. you closed the gap, your eyes falling shut as you felt his lips against yours. the kiss was soft and gentle and lasted only a brief second before you pulled away, but you were still nose to nose.
“Ivar?” you tried to ask but his lips moved too quickly, capturing yours again but you were quick to catch up. Your hands moved to cover his, bringing them over to rest on your waist before yours moved to his shoulders which you could finally feel how muscular they’d become.
You kissed till you couldn’t breathe anymore and when you pulled away his lips tried to follow as you both gasped for air. “I think,” Ivar began to pant, “I like kissing you,”
“Good,” you grinned, your hand moving to cup his face, “Then lets never stop,”
#ivar the boneless#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar the boneless imagine#ivar x reader#ivar#ivar imagine#ivar ragnarsson#ivar ragnarsson smut#ivar ragnarsson imagine#ivar ragnarsson x reader#vikings tv#vikings tv imagine#vikings tv x reader#vikings imagine#vikings x reader#vikings#ivar fluff#ivar the boneless fluff#ivar ragnarsson fluff
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"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader
SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k
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Ivar is tired.
Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.
The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.
Ivar is also angry.
As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.
Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.
He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.
His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.
Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.
"Who is she?"
Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:
"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."
"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."
"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.
The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.
And then appears he.
A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.
You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.
When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.
They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.
Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.
The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?
The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?
It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.
"I believe this belongs to you."
Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.
At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.
"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.
"And why should I keep it?"
The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.
"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."
Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.
The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.
"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.
You wish you knew the answer yourself.
"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."
Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.
"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."
"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."
"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.
Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.
"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."
The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:
How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.
But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:
"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"
Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.
"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."
Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.
#vikings#vikings series#vikings tv series#vikings fanfiction#vikings imagine#vikings x reader#vikings ivar#ivar x reader#ivar lothbrok#ivar the boneless#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar the boneless fanfiction#ivar the boneless imagnie
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Hvitserk: I sleep with an axe under my pillow
Ubbe: I sleep with a knife under mine
Y/N: you're both pathetic
Hvitserk: oh yeah, than what do you sleep with?
Y/N: Ivar
#vikings tv#ivar x reader#ivar imagine#ivar lothbrok#ivar ragnarsson#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnarsson x reader#ivar the boneless x reader#hvitserk#ubbe ragnarsson
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Whispers of Love: Ivar x Reader
Word count: 2.2k
Summary: Reader is new in Kattegat and catches the attention of a certain Ragnarsson.
Warnings: Assault, murder, slight swearing(i think)
You came to Kattegat just a couple days ago but it didn’t take much time at all for you to notice the famous sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. You only saw them from a safe distance as they talked to one another. You noticed one of the boys was crippled but not before you saw his face. You were in awe, to say the least. But your eyes must have lingered on him for quite some time for he met your gaze with an intense stare that sent chills down your spine. You never had more reason to leave and go back to the hut you were staying in.
You became an orphan at the mere age of 12 and had taken care of the farm for many years with your older brother. But the two of you had recently decided that you wanted a far more exciting future than just farming on the land so you sold the land and took the money to buy a hut and look after yourself just until you had settled in. You forgot about Ivar soon enough once you reached you new home and moved on with your new life.
A month passed by and living in Kattegat was so much more different than the farm. It was much louder, faster and there were more people than you could count. But it was not to your dislike, it was the contrary actually. You had started your training to be a physician and you were doing nicely. Everything was working out better than you or your brother could’ve imagined.
Ivar had not stopped thinking about you ever since that little eye contact in the market and it may have been a bit delusional of him to still believe that he would see you again. You were probably not even in Kattegat anymore because he could not find you anywhere. You were the first girl to look at him with such admiration and he drowned in your beauty the second he laid eyes on you.
During dinner he seemed to have zoned out because Sigurd had to throw some food at him to get his attention. Ivar was immediately annoyed and glared at him. Trying to stop himself from flinging his axe at his brother, he asked, “Why are you throwing food around like a child?”
“You wouldn’t listen. Had to do something to bring you back to Midgard,” he replied.
Ivar rolled his eyes, already feeling great anger towards his brother but before he could say anything, his mother interrupted, “We are celebrating Yol tomorrow.”
Ivar drowned in his thoughts once more. He would know if you were in Kattegat by tomorrow night. If you were in the town, then you would be at the feast and he would approach you. He wanted to know all there was to know about you; all the important and unimportant things of your life.
You and Kalf, your brother began cleaning up the plates and horns after dinner. You broke the silence, “It is Yol tomorrow. There will be a great feast.”
“Yes, I have not been in the Great Hall since the Thing, where I got my arm ring. Just thinking about the food that will be there makes me hungry all over again,” Kalf spoke excitedly.
“We have just had dinner, you fool. How are you always this hungry?” You spoke laughingly.
“Your cooking will make any man excited to eat something else,” he commented.
Gasping, you threw the nearest thing you could find at him at which he simply laughed. You spoke sarcastically, “I won’t make food for you if you really hate it that much.”
“Well, I mean it’s not THAT bad if I think about it,” he retaliated.
Smiling smugly, you spoke, “Better.”
The feast was spectacular. You sat on a different table from your brother though because you knew he would embarrass you the first chance he got. The food and the ale was so good you could feast all night. There was music as well and many were dancing to it but you weren’t drunk enough yet to give yourself away to the music. You simply talked and laughed with your newly made friends.
Looking around the hall, you suddenly noticed certain eyes on you and then the memory came back. Those blue piercing eyes and that face, he was perfect in every way. You maintained the eye contact for long, getting lost in his eyes until one of your friends whispered, “That’s Ivar. The crippled one.”
You looked at her. You had heard of Ragnar Lothbrok’s crippled son. The girl continued, “They say he is a menace, quicker to anger than most men, so don’t let his legs fool you and not only that, but I’ve heard that he is stronger and better at fighting than any of his brothers. Apparently he strangled a boar with his bare hands but that is probably not true.”
“Of course it is not true,” you scoffed. After waiting a second, you suggested, “Come, let us dance. The music is lovely.”
The both of you giggled and rushed to give yourself away to the music. You soon felt the beat through your veins and the rhythm matching with your heartbeat. You danced uncontrollably, partly because you wanted to see how the crippled prince would react, if at all. His eyes had barely faltered from you and it was making you uncomfortable but you didn’t want him to know that. You didn’t want him to know that he made you feel weak by simply looking at you but every now and then you would give him a glance.
You suddenly felt a hand around your waist. You didn’t know who the man was for you had never seen him. His hold on you was not budging when you struggled. His other hand was roaming at places on your body that made you terrified and the hall was crowded enough for no one to truly notice your struggle.
“Let go of me!” you said, struggling.
“Oh what’s a bit of harmless fun? Especially with a woman of your beauty,” the man spoke.
You felt tears welling up in your eyes as he continued to ‘dance’ and play around with your body until something that you hadn’t expected in a million years to happen. A knife suddenly struck his head as his eyes remained widened with shock. You quickly stepped away as his body fell to the ground. The tears ran down your face and you looked around trying to figure out who it was until you saw everyone looking at Ivar who was glaring at the man’s limp body. It was different to how he had looked at you in every singly way but you didn’t stay around to find out more. Feeling absolutely overwhelmed, you stormed out of the hall with Kalf following.
“What happened back there?” Kalf spoke worriedly.
“I-…” you hesitated. Before you could speak, your brother interrupted, “You don’t have to tell me. It is fine… Come on, let us go to our hut.”
Ivar had had his eyes on you all evening, his brothers even teasing him about it but he quickly turned them away angrily. But when he saw that asshole trying to touch you without consent, Ivar felt an uncontrollable anger. He wanted to skin the bastard alive but he couldn’t simply watch you struggle like that. Even after killing the man, Ivar felt no guilt. Why should he? He was simply protecting you, making sure you were safe.
No one had asked him about why he had done what he did. Perhaps it was already too obvious. Perhaps he had scared you off. You wouldn’t even want to go near him now. He felt his insecure thoughts weighing him down during the night.
You barely slept through the night, the picture of the knife piercing the man’s skull replaying in your mind and then seeing the look Ivar had on his face. That menacing look, the one that could take down entire armies.
The next day, you went away from the town to feel the quiet of nature that you had already begun to miss. You walked around the forest, finding a riverbank to sit nearby quickly enough. You thought about what had happened last night, how, in some really fucked up way, Ivar saved you. But he also killed a man who will never experience Valhalla now. Then again, that monster didn’t deserve Valhalla. You sat there wondering what would’ve happened if Ivar had not intervened.
“Mind if I join you?” you heard a voice from behind. When you turned your head and saw that it was Ivar, you quickly stood up.
“Were you following me?” you realised in this moment, you were terrified of him.
“Will it help if I said no? Either way, you walk too fast so I had to find you myself,” he spoke. When you didn’t say anything, it didn’t take him long enough to realise how you felt, “You are scared of me.”
Scoffing, you reasoned, “Who wouldn’t be? You killed a man while I was simply inches away.”
“He was hurting you,” Ivar remarked as if that was reason enough.
“But you could’ve killed me,” you argued.
Ivar grinned, “I didn’t though, did I?”
“Well… No but still, it was terrifying,” you said while Ivar made himself comfortable by sitting against the trunk of a fallen tree.
Even though Ivar worked very hard to not show it, he had been very nervous to actually talk to you. Now that you were here, he didn’t want to ever leave.
You stood there silently before sitting down in front of him. What was it about him that you felt so drawn towards?
He looked at you lovingly, “What is your name?”
“Y/N is what they call me… But I already know who you are, Ivar,” you acknowledged.
“Do you?” Ivar joked.
“That anger in those gorgeous eyes of yours, how could you be mistaken?” you replied.
“My eyes are ‘gorgeous’?” he couldn’t control his smile.
You blushed, “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“I’m afraid so. I don’t mind the compliment though, please, y/n, carry on about my gorgeous eyes,” he teased. Truth was, he felt a thousand butterflies. He’d never gotten a compliment from anyone.
The two of you continued making jokes at one another, laughing constantly and time flew by ever so quickly. Ivar couldn’t believe the sun was about to set. With you, he didn’t have to worry about anything. He felt at peace.
When his brothers asked where he had been, he simply smiled and shrugged. For the first time in so long, he didn’t feel furious. There was something about you, like you were a goddess who appeared to save him. The next day Ivar went up to the same place, hoping you would show up. He was almost about to leave until he saw you show up.
You finished your work as a physician for the day as quickly as you could and relied on your friends to cover up for you. Once out of Kattegat, you practically ran to the same spot on the riverbank as yesterday. You didn’t know how but you just knew that he would be there, nor did you know why you felt so eager to go to him either.
You continued these secret meetings for as long as you could. No one was aware of who or where you actually went but you didn’t care even if they found out. Ivar had become your sanctuary as you had become his.
During one such evening, as the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the riverbank, you found yourselves lost in a conversation filled with laughter. Ivar had a knack for weaving humor into every exchange, and you found yourself charmed by his wit and the way his eyes sparkled with amusement.
Ivar grinned, his eyes dancing with mirth. "See? I told you I was the funniest person you'd ever meet."
Laughing, you shook your head. "Well, I suppose I can't argue with that."
His gaze softened as he looked at you, a warmth filling his eyes. "I'm glad you find me amusing, y/n."
You smiled back, feeling a flutter in your chest at the sincerity in his voice. "You have a way with words, Ivar."
He chuckled softly. "Only when I'm with you."
The air between you seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, and before you could think, you found yourself leaning in closer to him.
Ivar's hand gently brushed against your cheek as he whispered, "You're beautiful when you laugh, y/n."
Unable to resist the pull any longer, Ivar reached out, gently cupping your cheek with his hand. His touch was tender, sending a shiver down your spine as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest.
As your lips clashed with an overdue feeling of affection for one another, Ivar kissed you passionately and possessively almost as if declaring that you were his.
You pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, you found yourself lost in Ivar's eyes once more, a sense of belonging settling deep within your soul.
“I am yours, y/n, now and forever and you are mine,” Ivar’s words echoed in your heart as you buried your eyes in his, expressing a thousand unspoken words.
#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnarsson#ivar x reader#ivar imagine#ivar lothbrok#vikings#vikings fanfiction#ivar x yn#vikings imagine#vikings x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#ivar#vikings tv#vikings series
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Birthing Ivar's Child Would Include...
-Birthing his child would not be like anything else. He would make sure that you are comfortable and have the best doctors around to make sure that you are okay while birthing his child.
-He would honestly not know what to think the first time that he gets the news that you are going to birth the child that night.
-He would of course come straight away to the house where you are birthing and stay there with you through the whole process.
-He would kind of be worried for you in a sense because he has not seen a women birth before, so he does not know if any of what you are going through is normal.
-He has to be constantly reminded by the doctors that it is completely normal what you are going through right now. He is just nervous for you.
-He stays there with you the whole time that you are birthing. No matter what. He even tells his brothers that you are birthing and that he will be a while before seeing them again. Because he does not know how long it will take you to birth the child.
-After a long while of you trying and trying to birth the child you finally birth the child.
-Ivar could not have been happier. He was so happy he could not hold in his happiness and started to smile like a maniac. After a while after you birthed the baby Ivar's brothers came in and got to hold the baby and say hi to them.
#norway#scandanavia#viking#vikings#imagines#nordic#vikings headcanon#vikings imagines#vikings fandom#norse#norwegian#scandanavian#vikings tv#vikings imagine#vikings x reader#vikings fic#history channels vikings#ivar#ivar the boneless#ivar lothbrok#ivar lothbrok x reader#ivar x reader#ivar ragnarsson#vikings ivar#alex hogh andersen
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Floki fluff
You’re drunk and tried to kiss Floki.
Warnings: nothing but falling more in love with Floki ❤
You were drinking with Floki.
„I really like you.“, you admitted.
You tried to kiss him but he gently pushed you away „I want you to be sober and really wanting this.“
„B-but I don’t know if I’m confident enough to kiss you when I’m sober.“, you mumbled against his shoulder.
He gave you a kiss on top of your head „Y/N you are so much more confident then you think.“
You felt warm and save in his arms and a few moments later you fell asleep.
The next morning you woke up but something was strange. You tried to turn around but something or someone was holding you tight.
Flashbacks of last night rushed through your mind and you blushed. You were embarrassed because you just told Floki your feelings kind of and on the other hand Floki was so sweet and caring. He must have carried you to his house because you still lived with your family. But here it was just you and him.
„Floki?“, you whispered.
„Good morning Y/N.“, he answered.
You turned around to face him. Still in his arms you studied his face, to see what he feels or thinks. His eyes were warm and soft…and looking in your eyes. You tried not to blush. Your heart was beating faster and faster.
You didn’t know what to say so you leaned forward. One hand was on your back and one hand was on your cheek.
Then your lips found his. His grip on your back was getting stronger and your kiss was getting more passionate. He bit your lip and your hand was running through his hair.
Suddendly he stopped and just looked at you.
„Did I do something wrong?“, you asked worried.
He shook his head smiling „I just enjoy looking at you.“
You smiled back „And I like looking at you.“ and kissed him again.
#vikings#vikings x reader#Vikings imagine#vikings tv show#floki x reader#vikings fluff#vikings floki#floki the boat builder#tv series#fluff#viking
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Once upon a fairy tale - Ubbe Ragnarson (3)
I wanna say I’m sorry in advance and that next chapter will be up tomorrow, so pls don’t attack me Other parts: Once Upon A Fairy Tale Masterlist
Plot: Aslaug tries to push you closer to Ubbe, leaving you in a vulnerable situation. When faced with a group of soldiers, they don't hesitate to make their opinion about you crystal clear.
Warnings: men being rough with reader, unwanted sexual attention, harassment
You woke up alone in the room, but there was evidence of another’s person presence not too long ago. There were robes on the ground, and a pair of man’s undergarments hanging from the bottom corner of the bed. Besides, it smelt like Ubbe.
When last night you told him to sleep on the ground, you half expected him to drag your out of bed by your foot, but you were too tired to care. Yet, as minutes passed by, you only heard him change clothes and pile covers on the ground. You had been almost lulled back to sleep when he had taken the pillow from under your head.
It could only go so well.
That morning, you changed clothes quickly, not wanting to find any unexpected visitors, and let the room to be made by a servant. It was sunny and warm enough to leave your coat inside, and to choose a light dress that would let the sun bathe your skin. Following a tradition you had created many years ago, you took the hall that led to the gardens and stared at the colorful flowers.
Spending a whole summer in a foreign country was incredible boring for a kid, and when you didn’t succeed in making friends, you had to look for other sources of entertainment. Ubbe and his brothers didn’t let you participate in their games; probably, because you won each one of them without playing fool. The only kid who made an effort to befriend you was Sigurd, but his interests didn’t align with you.
There weren’t many pleasant memories in the castle, but the gardens told a different story. Hvitserk was allergic to many of the flowers that grew inside, so the Lothbrok’s brothers didn’t go there often. It was silent and peaceful, and apart from an occasional interruption, you found yourself enjoying the calm. On the other side of the garden, you could hear the castle coming alive, probably from the courtyard.
Back home, you didn’t have flowers, not as pretty as in that castle. Watering them and watching them grow was your main activity during those months.
“Those are primroses” a woman’s voice said behind you, while you knelt in front of yellow flowers. “Had them brough from the woods outside the castle. And they’ve grown just fine”
“I can see that, my queen” you answered to Aslaug, not moving from your position. “They’re beautiful”
“Indeed” she agreed. “They’ve grown just fine”
Her feet moved forward and soon you were covered by her shadow. Looking up, you met her icy eyes and cold smile.
If you had to define Ubbe’s mother with a word, it would be distant. While her son was all feelings and impulses, she was always calm and passive. You had long ago discarded the idea of an indifferent queen – everything that happened in that castle, she knew where, when and why. Anyone could be fooled by her attitude, but you knew that every word and gesture was intentional and had a purpose.
Slowly, you rose up and brushed the dirt from your dress, although there was none.
“Do your new chambers meet your needs, my dear?”
“They do. Although I’m afraid I don’t think prince Ubbe share the feeling”
“He will, eventually. Give him time” she tilted her head in what pretended to be an innocent way, but that made her look like a snake staring at her prey. “Any man can get used to it”
You smiled without your teeth, because you had no doubt there were many others empty rooms in the castle. Only that she didn’t want you to be anywhere else, and you could think of a few reasons why.
Last year, you heard some of the servants talk about Ubbe, in a way you had never heard or thought about. You had had your own adventures at home, with a vendor from the market and with the stables’ boy in your castle. But those words got stuck in your brain, and for a few days, it was the only thing you thought about.
“It’s just, he’s gotten so big. And tall. And that face… He looks just like his father but more handsome, and he isn’t married yet. I would kill to feel what he hides between those elegant clothes” a servant laughed, as if it was a secret.
“I know. I can’t wait until he comes back. Heard he has let some girls into his room. I will gladly volunteer next time”
Everyone who had eyes could see Ubbe’s resemblance to his father, a strong, ferocious and handsome king. While you weren’t very fond of him, you had eyes, and could see too. Aslaug wasn’t any different.
She was getting impatient, and every year that went by, was another chance of a bastard appearing in the hands on a common girl and asking for rights.
“People will talk, but you don’t have to worry, Y/N” Aslaug assured. With a look, she started walking and you followed her, with your hands laced and your eyes on the ground. “Maybe it’s not common to share chambers before the weeding. You’ve been engaged long enough to skip that rule, don’t you think so?”
“I... don’t know, my queen. I can’t say what others might think of the situation, only that neither prince Ubbe nor I like it very much” you tried.
“You’ll get used to it too, don’t worry. After all, what better place to stay than in your husband’s bed? Isn’t that where a good wife belongs?”
You knew better than to talk back, so you kept quiet. The flowers you intended to take care of moved past you as you walked by her side, servants and soldiers bowing. Every year, she took upon herself to remind you that time was running out. Every year, she ambushed you sooner or later and tested the waters.
Sharing a room was nothing but accidental.
She couldn’t care less about his son’s reputation or about your dignity. The only thing she cared about was other’s opinion, and what they might say. Because they would talk, about you and Ubbe, and if someone was bold enough to start the rumor of you two bedding, the wedding she wanted would come up way sooner.
Birds chirped around you as you listened to her list the good qualities of a wife. You might not have had a mother, but your father had taught you enough and assured you other people would when he couldn’t. You knew what was expected from you, how you had to behave in and out the bedroom. Hating your fate didn’t make you ignorant, so you kept your head down and listened.
After a long and torturous walk through the gardens, you found the exit to the courtyard, where the king’s sons were training. There were soldiers and majors fighting against each other, laughing and tossing friendly punches.
From the language they were using and the lack of women, you guessed that was a place you weren’t supposed to be. There were shirtless men sweating and showing off his muscles, in a relaxed atmosphere that wouldn’t suggest the princes were between them.
Sigurd and Hvitserk were fighting against each other, with training swords and wooden shields. The loud noises didn’t alert anyone from the presence of the two visitors, and they kept going. Your eyes stopped when you found Ubbe, not too far away in a hand combat with a man twice his size.
He was shirtless too, new tattoos and scars decorating his body. The previous day, you hadn’t really noticed the change from the boy to a man, but now you did. He moved effortlessly around his opponent, dodging hits and throwing punches.
As you stared at the muscles of his back tense and move, you felt enchanted. You weren’t sure you blinked until the prince finally got a hold of the man’s forearm and threw him to the ground. When Ubbe rose victorious and showed his brothers a teethed smile, you forced yourself to look away, wondering how could a face change so much in a year.
Only then, you noticed Aslaug looking at you, with a satisfied smirk on her lips.
“Thought they would have finished by now. How silly of me” she excused herself. Instead of turning around, she gathered her skirts and stepped down the first stair. “Come on, dear, let’s say hi. It would be rude not to do so”
“My queen, I’d rather – “
“Now”
She didn’t wait for you, just kept walking down, knowing you would follow. Queen Aslaug had earned herself the respect and fear from the castle, day by day, and as soon as the soldiers noticed, one by one fell to their knee.
They didn’t look at you, didn’t rise up when you passed them or acknowledge their training partners. In a wave motion, they bowed to their queen and pressed a fist to their sweaty chest. You moved behind Aslaug in silence, staring at their faces and bodies. Maybe it was all part of her plan, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy it.
When you turned thirteen and your father caught you talking with the son of the cooker, he decided you would continue your training and outside activities far from any men. Excluding blurry memories of soldiers fighting with your father when you were younger, you had never seen so many men at their knees.
Thoughts that surely couldn’t belong to you crossed your mind, and you looked forward, ashamed and with your cheeks red.
A few feet away from you, Ubbe’s blue eyes met yours, his eyebrows furrowed. He looked between the kneeling soldiers and your cheeks, twisting his mouth.
“Hvitserk, Sigurd” Aslaug greeted them, taking a good look at Ubbe’s face. “Ubbe”
“Mother” the younger one replied, staring at the both of you with a small smile. “Princess Y/N, lovely to see you again”
“What are you doing here?”
Ubbe’s voice was rough, no trace of the bright smile you had seen moments ago. Soldiers were starting to rise, still in silence, and everyone stared while Ubbe and his mother stared at each other. They were fighting some type of mental battle no one else was aware of.
Awkwardly, you waited by her side until she finally clapped her hands and looked at the crowd, ignoring her son’s words.
“Don’t stop on our account, please. Continue your work. Let princess Y/N see how strong and brave her soldiers are going to be soon” she extended her arms towards them, although no one moved. “Keep going”
Slowly, the sound of swords and shields came back, and Aslaug turned back to her sons.
You could feel the stares of every man in the courtyard in the back of your neck, and it occurred to you, you weren’t wearing appropriate clothes. As an unmarried woman, you were supposed to be elegant, discreet, hidden. Most of the dresses you had brough were long sleeved and with high necks, covering every inch of your body. That’s how everyone in Mercia had seen you until that moment.
But it was hot and you were supposed to be in the gardens, so you had chosen a pale, blue dress with a low neckline that showed your shoulders, and sleeves that only covered until your elbow. And you hadn’t touched your hair, leaving it hanging from your shoulders.
Now aware of the situation, you crossed your arms over your chest and looked at Aslaug, who seemed awfully pleased with herself.
You didn’t think for a moment she actually forgot about the training.
“What are you doing here?” Ubbe asked again, staring at her mother. “It’s training day. You know it. And you shouldn’t be here, neither should she”
Disgust dripped from the last word, and he didn’t even meet your eyes.
“But she’s your future wife, you should share every part of your routine with her” she fired back, not minding Hvitserk’s stifled snort. “I didn’t see you this morning at breakfast, were you in a hurry?”
“I was. I have been training all day. Here. Where you shouldn’t – “
“Don’t tell me where I can or can’t be, Ubbe. Enough”
“Mother, we were about to end” Sigurd stepped forward. “Why don’t you wait for us in the castle?”
“I have business to attend” she smiled again, her snake eyes looking between Ubbe and you. “But you should escort princess Y/N. I think she was trying to take care of some flowers”
Without saying another word, Aslaug walked the other way. Soldiers moved so that she could pass, and when she did, they went back to their previous fight. She walked with a determination she hadn’t had in the gardens, and even if you had had time, you wouldn’t had been able to follow her. Not looking once over her shoulder, she disappeared.
And then, you were alone with the three princes in a yard full of loud soldiers who resumed their previous behavior.
All the respect they showed earlier, the quietness that followed your path, was because of Aslaug. You were just the foreign princess of a smaller kingdom, with no authority or importance in their training practice. You guessed that they would have had more consideration for any other woman from Mercia, but your value was of a servant.
A person without opinion or saying, that didn’t need to be taken into account.
When a soldier passed by your side and spit on the ground, only inches away from your shoe, you decided it was enough.
“If you’ll excuse me” you said, already starting your way towards the stairs. It wouldn’t be easy and you would probably have to shove some soldiers, but there wasn’t any other solution.
“Where are you going?” Ubbe asked, coming forward to.
“To my chambers? To yours. Anywhere I don’t have to see this”
“You can come to mine”
You found yourself face to chest to a man with blonde, short hair, and a missing eye. Only his shoulders were the length of your whole arm. His sweaty face stared down at with you side smile, earning the laughs of some of his partners.
It wasn’t anything new to you.
Maybe, during the first three years, people were intimidated by a foreign country visiting his lands. Maybe, they were actually happy at the thought of his prince getting married soon. But it all vanished quickly and you had endured your fair share of comments and observations from Mercia’s people. And you weren’t amused anymore.
Ubbe was, who stopped behind you.
Those people were not willing to risk his head, so they always talked when no one but you could hear it. The servants whispered not so low when they prepared your bath, the nobles sat close to you and commented the empty seat by your sides, and the soldiers only talked when the halls were empty.
“Get out of my way” you scoffed, easily dodging his body and moving forward.
There was a faint commotion behind you and soon Ubbe was back in his place, his breath almost hitting the back of your neck. The fact that his very naked chest was a touch away was making you nervous, and you tried to walk faster.
Soon, you lost the small clearing the princes were training in and were fully into the courtyard, surrounded by bodies.
Not even ten steps into the crowd, Ubbe grabbed your elbow.
“Are you insane? Are you actually insane?” he all but screamed to you. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Why do you ask so many questions? The only thing wrong here is your mother, who should know by now better”
“You should too! What was that back there?”
“Stop asking questions!”
You pushed him away and turned around, wiling your feet to walk faster. Not because you were actually annoyed by his questions, but because having him so close, made you stutter. The feeling of his hot chest against your fingers when you pushed him away, tempted you to keep your hands there.
Thankfully, you were smaller than him, and could outrun him while he tried to chase you.
Some soldiers thought it would be funny to try and stop you, going so far as stepping into your skirts and grabbing your shoulder and hair. They laughed and made comments that you shouldn’t had to hear.
To them, it was chasing the rabbit that was escaping from his prince. To you, it wasn’t so fun.
One of the soldiers stepped on your skirt and the cloth tore, achieving a bunch of hurrahs from the rest of his friends. Stopping to see how bad the damage was, you saw Ubbe pushing through the soldiers farther than before, something murderous on his face. He looked at your dress and moved faster, going as far as throwing a man into his partner.
You turned around to keep moving, now your eyes warm with tears. One thing was the playful banter of children, or even the not-so-playful pranks with Ubbe. But it wasn’t a joke anymore, you felt the men’s intention clear and loud. Humiliation and frustration boiled up in your body until you felt your chest tightening up. You willed yourself to save the tears for later, when you would be finally alone. So you tried to move.
Before you could do so, someone grabbed your hair and pulled harder than before, making your yelp in pain. You were thrown back, and by mere luck, you hit a man’s chest instead of the ground.
Suddenly, a pair of rough hands were on you, while your captor’s arms held you still.
“Come on, don’t be shy! Show us what more you have there!” someone roared, attempting to see through the slip of your dress. He managed to lift one side and grip your left calf.
“I’ll take the other side!”
He didn’t, because when the first man tried to move higher, still holding your left leg against him, was met with your foot on his face. The kick launched him back and made you stumble into other arms. Again, they tried to move lift your dress, now from behind. No matter how much you moved or kicked, your voice stuck in your throat.
By that time, there were tears running down your cheeks, and it was clear it wasn’t just a game between the soldiers. Some of them had stepped aside, looking almost troubled. But no one said anything.
It wasn’t like fighting with the princes, or falling into a prank. It felt like an assault to your dignity, even if they tried to make it look like a joke.
The first man quickly recovered and looked at you while covering his mouth. In his other hand, there was a piece of tooth that you had broken.
There was no longer humor on his eyes, not even the lustful glare he was trying to hide before. When he charged towards you, some of his friends tried to stop him, but it wasn’t enough. He moved with his whole-body force towards you, and since other soldiers were still holding you, you couldn’t do anything but close your eyes and try to cower away.
Between the shouts and laughs, you distinguished a familiar voice, and then heard a body falling to the ground.
Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated
Taglist:
@66vikings
#ubbe imagine#ubbe one shot#ubbe x reader#ubbe#ubbe fic#ubbe lothbrok#ubbe lothbrok x reader#ubbe lothbrok imagine#ubbe lothbrok one shot#ubbe ragnarson#ubbe ragnarson imagine#ubbe ragnarson x reader#ubbe ragnarson one shot#vikings#vikings one shot#vikings imagine#vikings tv show#vikings x reader#vikings fic#hvitserk#aslaug#sigurd#jordan patrick smith#x reader#enemies to lovers#arranged marriage#forced marriage#the swan princess#disney au#imagines mai
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I’m about halfway through S3 of Vikings now, and if this season has taught me anything it’s that heterosexual relationships are the devil. There is not a single straight couple having a good time in here rn.
Meanwhile, on count sixty million (give or take) of Athelstan and Ragnar shouting their devotion to one another from every 9th century rooftop they can find, and last I saw they were huddled together at the end of a Dragon boat kicking their feet and giggling about Paris. There really are two layers to this show about Vikings, and one is about Vikings while the other is a slowburn enemy to friends (to lovers?) romcom with enough combined obsessive devotion to make Sherlock and Watson look like casual business associates by comparison.
#babbles#faey watches#vikings#athelnar#i really cant state enough the sheer dicotomy of this show#it’s both the most testerone fueled male fantasy in existence#and at the same time such a gentle look at all the different types of love there is#like you gotta give them props. ragnar has women falling all over him daily but his most potent relationship is with some priest#that he’s asked to sleep with him! twice!#he’s both the most heterosexual cis guy you can imagine and yet not#and im not even mad about it#can’t even call it queerbaiting imo bc they’re open af about how much athelstan and ragnar love each other#it’s more the show is like ‘love comes in so many forms and also we’re rated tv 14 so we gotta be creative’#genuinely dunno how this can end happy this show is too dramatic for#‘and they were just besties until the end of their days which were long and happy’#either someone’s gonna die tragic or there’s gonna be a betrayal
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Vikings + curly haired kids
Summary: How Vikings characters would handle an s/o who has curly hair/their kids if they inherit that hair texture
Notes: the bitch is back (hopefully), reader is gender neutral!
Tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @leithdragon @demon-of-the-ancient-world @alicedopey, @ivarlover @levithestripper @batmandallyboy @akayxo09 @vrtualfairy
Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!
Ragnar
He’s so bad with curly hair on his kids
But that’s just bc he’s Ragnar
He DROPPED ubbe and hvitserk smh
Don’t expect anything from him
Still admires
Lagertha
Pops her pussy each time you ask her to braid the kiddies hair
You want those patterned braids? Like the ones that make hearts and stuff? Done.
You want goddess braids or some other specific style? Teach her, and she’ll outdo you
Pretty little gold thingies and those nice hairclips with shells and stuff? In her top drawer
Literally the best when it comes to braiding
Aslaug
Her hair is like. The opposite of thick and curly.
Doesn’t really know what to do at first
But she’s willing to learn for you (read: have you teach a servant and she can talk to your kid while someone else braids it)
Always admires your hair
Will put one of her crowns on it
Bjorn
Get him away! AWAY I say!
Worse than Ragnar
Never knows what he’s doing at any moment
One of those people that will touch your hair without permission
Honestly, he loves curly hair/hairstyles, but don’t bother trying to teach him
Ubbe
KING
I know I always say that but like. It’s true
He’ll import whatever you need to take care of your hair into Kattegat
Learns all about haircare/braiding/etc for you
Not as good as Lagertha, but he gets the basics down
Solid support
Hvitserk
He’s like an excited puppy tbh
Doesn’t know what to do, but wants to be included
I hc that Ubbe braided Hvitserk’s hair when he was kid so he doesn’t really know how to do that
That being said
Absolutely amazing at helping you wash your hair, scalp massages and all
When it’s wash day, your kids will line up to be the first one to get their scalp massaged
Ivar
He won’t be any good at braiding but he’ll make sure you have all the manpower you need to wrangle your/your kids hair
Absolutely loves curls btw
Gets you luxury oils/shampoos/etc
Will conquer new kingdoms for your hair health
Helga
Queen of self-made hair products
She has this one cream that will literally make your edges grow like crazy
Rest assured that, in her hands, your hair will never be frizzy or dry
Not that amazing at braiding, but you honestly don’t need that with all the haircare she provides
Floki
A mess
What did you expect?
#ragnar#lagertha#aslaug#bjorn#ubbe#hvitserk#ivar#helga#floki#vikings#vikings tv#history vikings#vikings imagine#ivar x reader#ivar x you#ivar x y/n#ivar lothbrok#ivar the boneless#ivar lothbrok x readre#ivar lothbrok x you#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar the boneless x you#ragnar x reader#lagertha x reader#aslaug x reader#bjorn x reader#ubbe x reader#hvitserk x reader#hvitserk x you
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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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devotion. hvitserk lothbrok
PAIRING ➨ hvitserk lothbrok x freyja
GENRE ➨ (somewhat) smut, historical fiction, fantasy.
SUMMARY ➨ the goddess of war, freyja, is put onto kattegat to aid the lothbroks during their future raids. both the seer and aslaug have seen her coming, and the queen welcomes her with open arms. catching the eye of hvitserk lothbrok, she treats him as no one has done before; as an equal, instead of a dog.
WARNINGS ➨ smutty themes (no actual smut this chapter)
WORD COUNT ➨
SELENE NOTE ➨ this was a spur of the moment fic, so there might be some misinformation, though i tried to do as much research as i could on freyja! in this fic, freyja is blonde and blue eyed. according to the myths, she is described as having “long flowing blond hair, blue eyes and a gorgeous figure which she doesn't mind flaunting, as she often appears naked to her worshipers.” i also imagined her face claim to be emilia clarke as daenerys targaryen, but much taller. here’s what she wears this chapter: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/304485624800233705/ for the norse terminology, i used both @honestsycrets‘s references and from this site: https://www.vikingsofbjornstad.com/Old_Norse_Dictionary_E2N.shtm !
MASTERLIST
feeling something press against her ankle, freyja’s eyebrows furrow, creating deep creases on her glabella, pressing her cheek deeper into the pillows she rested on. her foot flicked up, almost like a cow’s ear flicking away a fly, trying to knock away whatever hovered over her. however, it continued, moving up her calf, up to her thigh, then to the softness of her hips, and feeling it tickle against the exposed skin, she realizes of what it could be. “good morning,” hvitserk’s voice was tranquil in the still air of dawn, his hand moving down to the velvety folds in between her legs, middle finger circling her bundle of nerves, freyja’s mouth opening in a silky sigh. “no one but us is awake,” he whispered into her ear, nipping at the satiny skin of her neck.
“is it that early in the morning?” she moans, arching her neck to give him more room to continue his assault.
“you said that you’ll be here for me in the morning!” he whines, actually whines, his hand landing on her neck, fingers wrapping around into they could touch the back, where her spine was, his pointer finger on top of her ear as his middle finger felt the lobe. the goddess’ lips quirk up in a smile, “i guess i did, hvitserk.” her left leg wrapped around his waist, using her strength to roll them both over, hvitserk landing on his back as if he were deadweight. “then i have a promise to fulfill.”
when hvitserk walked into the great hall, a hush falls over the waking individuals, a pep in his step as he made his way towards the table where his family sat. they had all heard everything. the thump of the bed against the wall, the soprano moans that verberated out of the room into the halls, the guttural groans that accompanied them, and then, the call of the names within the room.
hvitserk and freyja.
when the prince walked towards the table to fill his belly with the warm breakfast the thralls had cooked, they noticed slight differences in him. his gait was jovial, his hair perfectly laid with braids freyja had taken her time to place, his skin glowed, his eyes held a euphoric look. “it seems as if he was fucked to valhalla and back,” sigurd calls out, the men in the hall cheering the second eldest on, some clapping his shoulder as he pulled the chair from under the table. he didn’t dare look his mother in the eye, afraid of what she would do since hearing him fuck the goddess she worshipped. would she congratulate him? punish him? he didn’t want to know the answer to that last one.
“i heard you had sex with freyja,” aslaug’s voice boomed in the great hall. hvitserk nodded, twirling his fork in his fingers as he continued to eye the food placed on his plate. he tensed, readying himself to earning a slap to the face or a fork thrown in his direction. instead, his mother’s face eased into a smile, her hand reaching out to hold her son’s hand in hers. “it seems as if my son hvitserk has been chosen by the goddess of war, freyja!” the others cheer, raising their cups or horns in the air. “but, it also seems as he was chosen to help her bring forth more kind!” more clamor, people smacking hvitserk on the back, the lothbrok feeling the small pangs of discomfort from underneath the green kyrtill freyja had helped him put on. hvitserk sighs heavily when one of the slaps he received caused the torn piece of chicken in his hand to fall, landing on the wooded ground below him, someone else stepping on top of it. it was no longer salvageable.
freyja stepped into the great hall, her falcon feather cloak seeming as it if were floating behind her, and as she moved her arm to pull away the right side of it from her body, two cats walked out and meowed, their coats a blue so subtle it was almost gray, emerald green irises looking around the halls. bygul and trjegul wandered around, the latter of which jumped up on one of the tables, staring directly at a man simply known as solveig, squinting his eyes as he waited to be fed. solveig tears a piece from the chicken leg he had, placing it in front of him.
purring, trjegul eats, licking the table clean after the meat had been eaten, his eyes closing slowly in happiness. he leaps off the table, walking gracefully along the floor towards freyja. reaching her hand out, trjegul jumps, taking her arm in his paws. quickly turning her arm around so he was upright, she presses him against her chest, her left hand coming up to stroke the fur behind his ear, purrs pouring from his mouth. freyja walks from the doorway of the hall to where hvitserk sat, watching him as he petted bygul, the cat tilting his head in content. placing a hand on hvitserk’s shoulder, she sits down on the empty spot next to him, chin resting against the top of her hand. sitting made her feel uncomfortable, feeling the all too familiar ache between her legs leaving a feeling of want, the goddess crossing her legs at the ankles to help alleviate it. “he’s never let anyone else touch him,” she softly remarks, she presses a kiss at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet.
hvitserk shudders lightly, biting his bottom lip to stop a wanton moan from slipping out, but a few of the men that stood close laughed, knowing that the simple kiss gave him a reaction that he tried to hold back. “i’m glad that i am the first,” he turns to face her, taking her chin gently in his hand, leading her to his lips. hearing loud cheers coming from the men around them, freyja chuckles into the kiss. placing her free hand onto hvitserk’s soft cheek, she deepens the kiss for a second before pulling away, “we are still at the table with your family. i don’t think that it is proper.”
his cheeks flushing a bright pink, he turns away from her, stabbing his fork onto the fish his mother’s maids had cooked. ivar, while still remaining a bit jealous that it was his brother the goddess favored, still chuckled at the fool he had made of himself, the deep blush on his cheeks, the awkward silence he had taken on.
just that small comment from freyja made him stumble over his own two feet, so what made him so special that she had chosen him for procreation? hvitserk was the quieter of the brothers, always following the strongest, which was why he was margrethe’s second choice. he was always after ubbe. ivar didn’t care that he wasn’t even a choice for her. it meant that he was unattainable, something his brothers knew nothing about. almost every woman in kattegat has had a taste of them, and someday, they’re going to realize that they didn’t like them, and would all want ivar.
but a rage burned deep inside of him. ubbe was always said to have been an exact copy of ragnar, their diplomatic father that had led them to rich lands, hvitserk now laid with the goddess of war, said to be the most beautiful in asgard, sigurd was born with the serpent-dragon fafnir in his eye, and ivar. . . he was born with frail bones and imponent. hvitserk must have had many unidentified children running around kattegat with how much he had slept around, and ivar. . . he could barely stand on his own.
that thought alone made him want to kill his brothers.
#Hvitserk#Hvitserk Ragnarsson#Hvitserk Whiteshirt#hvitserk ragnarsson imagine#hvitserk lothbrok#vikings#vikings tv show
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Ivar the Boneless*Does He Treat You Well
Pairing: Ivar x wife!reader
Kinktober Day eleven: knife play with Ivar the Boneless – people whisper and wonder how someone so sweet could marry someone so angry, but they don’t see what Ivar does when you’re underneath him
Warnings: ivar being ivar, slight blood kink, blood, knife play, knife kink, p in v sex, nipple play, choking, hickeys, smut 18+
Masterlist Here
Kinktober List Here
You heard their whispers in the street, of course you had. You remember the concerned expressions etched into your parents face as you dedicated your heart to Ivar. You knew what people thought of him and what they feared for you.
Even Ubbe, a long close friend of yours expressed his concern. You had married Ivar a month ago yet now Ubbe was asking you the question, “Does he treat you well?” he asked in a hush whisper from where you sat at the opposite side of the hall from your husband. Your eyes flickered to Ivar as you recalled how he had treated you last night.
/
“Such a pretty dress,” Ivar praised as he laid by your side, his hands trailing down the fabric of your dress as you gazed up at how his pale blue eyes scanned your body, “Shame it has to go,” he muttered but you knew he was not sorry.
Especially not when he clutched the neckline, his dagger slicing through the fabric with ease. Cold air washed over your frame causing your nipples to harden while Ivar finished slicing the dress off you. his eyes raked your body, the dagger slowly being dragged up your legs. You shivered as the cool metal glided along your thigh, so light that it didn’t even scratch your skin. “Husband,” you whined, your hand gripping his wrist making his eyes raise to meet yours, “I need you,”
A low growl left his throat as his lips crashed onto yours. you felt his blade move away from your body, but you were too intoxicated by his lips to care as your hands wound up in his hair as he moved to lay over you. he broke the kiss as suddenly as he started it, his empty hand reaching to squeeze your tit before pinching one of your nipples roughly causing you to whine.
His lips moved to your collarbones, sucking harsh marks into the sensitive skin as he rolled your nipples between his fingers making it hard not to moan loudly. “Such a pretty little thing,” Ivar praised, his voice almost mocking as his eyes raked your chest.
You shivered when you felt the tip of his dagger run up your side slowly, moving over to run up your chest. As he ran the blade up between your breasts, he pressed down lightly, just enough to break the skin. A hot feeling flushed along your chest as Ivar dropped the blade, running his thumb over the cut he had made, collecting the blood on his finger.
You watched as he sucked his thumb, his eyes rolling back into his skull, “Such a sweet taste,” he praised, moving his hands from his lips to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheek bone. Your hand moved to hold his wrist softly and Ivar smiled at your tenderness in even this moment. “A gift from the gods,” he murmured, his lips falling to press soft kisses down your chest to your breasts.
“Husband,” you moaned lightly as he took your nipple into his mouth.
“What is it my sweet?” he asked, trailing his mouth to the other, sucking harshly making you gasp in pleasure.
You could feel your stomach burning and your chest aching, needing his touch despite how close he already was. Your legs moved to hook around his lower back, pulling his body down gently into yours as your hands moved to cup your face, “I need you,” you whispered, pulling him in for a soft kiss.
Ivar however growled, his kiss growing more intense as his hand moved to grab your jaw. You gasped lightly when you felt his hips grind into yours, his hard cock evident through his trousers. While you had heard the whispers of his failures in the bedroom one night with Ivar proved it had just been a mishap.
His lips moved to your jaw, kissing it harshly as he trailed down your frame. His lips soon captured your nipple, his teeth grazing it making shivers run down your spin. You felt his rough hand squeeze your thigh before it slipped between them, running a finger up your slit, “So wet for me already,” he praised, “How desperate you really are,”
“So desperate,” you whined quietly, “for you Ivar. I need you please. do not make me wait,” you begged, your hips instinctively bucking as he rubbed harsh circles onto your clit, “Please husband,”
Your words seemed to spark something in the man as his hand wrapped around your neck, the other diving beneath his trousers to fish out his cock. “You want me?” he asked, and you nodded wordlessly as you felt him line himself up with your entrance, “Then you shall have me,” he grunted, pushing his tip in slowly making you gasp at his size you had still not grown used to. His eyes screwed tight in bliss as he slowly sunk his cock all the way in, his hand trailing down your throat to your breast, squeezing it lightly.
Your hips bucked, desperate for friction, and Ivar had sensed your impatience. His hips began to move, slowly at first before falling into a brutal and relentless pace. Your legs wrapped around his hips, allowing him to hit a deeper angle making curses fall from his lips.
Your eyes screwed shut, trying to stifle the moans as your fingernails sunk into his bicep. You gasped when you felt the cold blade press against your throat, but it only added to the way your body tightened beneath him. When you opened your eyes, you were met by his icy blue ones.
For a moment you wondered if it this was the sight your husbands’ enemies were forced to see before they were sent to Odin and for a moment you thought this alone would make death worth it. but they didn’t get to feel the way you did as you felt your peak soon approaching. Ivar grabbed your hand roughly, shoving it between your bodies so you could rub fast circles into your clit.
His blade moved up, pushing against your jaw making your head tilt back as Ivar’s lips dove down to your neck, kissing down the soft skin. When you felt his arm slip under your back, pulling it up and causing it to arch, you gasped as his cock hit a new spot that somehow felt even better.
Ivar groaned at the way your cunt squeezed around him, but he was determined to last until you had, and it did not take long as with a few more specific, aimed thrusts you found your orgasm rushing over you. your body tightened, your legs wrapping around him and pulling him in deeper making Ivar groan and drop the knife. He moved his arm out from under your back, grabbing at the sheets as his thrusts grew messy and desperate, his forehead resting against yours.
You felt his body stiffen as you came down from your own peak, still panting from the high as you felt him spill inside you before collapsing on top of you in a sweaty mess. After a couple of moments to allow you both to catch your breath Ivar looked up at you, his eyes tender and sweet, “Are you okay my love?” he asked.
/
“Are you okay?” Ubbe’s words snapped you back from reality and your eyes darted back to him, not noticing your husband’s smirk from across the room.
You smiled warmly at your brother-in-law, “Yes and you don’t need to worry Ubbe. He treats me very well, I promise,”
#ivar the boneless#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar the boneless smut#ivar the boneless imagine#ivar x reader#ivar#ivar smut#ivar imagine#ivar ragnarsson#ivar ragnarsson smut#ivar ragnarsson imagine#ivar ragnarsson x reader#vikings tv#vikings tv imagine#vikings tv smut#vikings tv x reader#vikings imagine#vikings x reader#vikings#vikings smut
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"She is not a bird" - Hvitserk x Reader
SUMMARY: In Eddas, every great warrior falls in love with a Valkyrie - a winged goddess equally beautiful and imposing. Hvitserk finds his after a battle as she's stitching wounds and bringing comfort to those who will not see another dawn.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k
In a colourful dress, she busses around,
Time and time she turns her head, gives a smile,
You could swear you saw her wings yesterday,
How she hid them under the dress,
But she’s not a bird,
Can’t you see?
She is not a bird.
Hvitserk has no interest in medicine or healing. Despite that, he has found himself watching one of the healers as she’s running back and forth between beds. She’s been at it for hours now and Hvitserk begins to wonder how come she’s not tired yet. Her feet and hands are equally quick as they had been when they arrived at the camp after the battle. The mesmerising glint in her eyes, something between curiosity and adoration, is still just as bright. Whenever one of the wounded warriors wants to talk to her, she sits at the edge of their bed. Her head nods gently before her lips curl into a reassuring smile and she says something in return. Maybe she’ll even chuckle at something. From where he’s standing, Hvitserk can’t make out her words but he can quite clearly see the faces of the people she’s talking to and it makes his curiosity consume him entirely to know what words turn agony into peace.
Lost in his own thoughts, the young Viking doesn’t notice jarl Friedgeir approaching him.
“Enchanting, isn’t she?” he asks with a smirk. He’s seen this scenario one too many times to have any doubts about what Hvitserk is thinking about. Friedgeir himself has been in that very same position before.
Friedgeir Esrason is nimble for his age. White and silver hair circles his tired face like a halo. Sun-damaged skin makes him appear even older, although fuller of life. It’s a testimony of long days spent on adventures, seeing what the world has to offer. Despite nearing grandfather’s age, his torso is broad and his arms are about the size of a shieldmaiden’s thigh. Brass bracelets clink every time he moves his hands. The purple material of his tunic is clearly worn out, tearing in places of the most friction.
“She is,” Hvitserk admits.
Jarl puts his heavy hand on Hvitserk’s shoulder. For a moment, the young warrior wonders if Friedgeir could actually crush his bones should he squeeze his fingers a little tighter.
“Can I entrust a secret to you, son of Ragnar?” Friedgeir asks in a low tone. His grey eyes look around the two of them as though expecting to find a prying set of ears. Everyone besides them appeared too preoccupied with their own duties and worries to care about the gossip shared between the Jarl and the famous Lothbrok boy.
Hvitserk looks at the older man with a frown.
“My brothers and I have risked our lives for your cause, Jarl Friedgeir,” he reminds the ruler. “I have no interest in breaking your trust. You know that already.”
“Good.” Friedgeir pats Hvitserk’s shoulder. He must be unaware of his strength as the gentle slaps are actually quite forceful, making Hvitserk answer his own question about crushing bones. Friedgeir can definitely turn someone’s skeleton into dust with a squeeze. “My wife mustn’t ever hear what I’m about to tell you. That girl…” he makes a pause and points his finger at the healer, “I think she might be a bird.”
Taken aback, Hvitserk looks up and down the Jarl.
“Did the Swedes hit you on the head?” he asks half-heartedly.
“I wish it was that. But no.” Friedgeir laughs bitterly and shakes his head. A shadow of melancholy flies past his sun-damaged face only to reside inside his silver eyes as a teary glint. “I always knew there was something strange about her but I came to understanding only after seeing the great viziers of the East and their pets locked in golden cages.”
Hvitserk glances towards the healer. His eyes follow her like hawk in hopes of some enlightenment that would make Friedgeir’s words clearer to him. Alas, she appears as she did before - enticing and human.
He shakes his head.
“I don’t understand.”
The Jarl lets out a sigh.
“Just look, dear Hvitserk. See the colourful dress like a parrot’s feathers.” Hvitserk has never heard of something called a parrot, so he is left to assume that they must look nothing like the birds in Norway. “And look at men’s faces when she talks to them. Pain and suffering change into hope and peace. The only time I’ve seen that was when one of the viziers asked his angry guests to listen to his oriole singing. After an hour, no one remembered what they were fighting about.”
Time as if slows down as Hvitserk is watching the healer sit on the edge of a cot belonging to a dying man. She holds his hand tightly and tirelessly wipes cold sweat from his forehead. The warrior is stuttering, fever and pain making his wants incomprehensible. The woman sitting beside him only nods her head, offering a warm smile and a short response. Soon, the man falls limp. His eyes turn blank as his head rolls lifelessly to the side. The healer squeezes the corpse’s hand and only then gets up to continue her work. A pair of healthy warriors wrap up the body in blankets only to carry it away, to the place where a great pyre will burn after nightfall.
Hvitserk is more intelligent than the jarl. More perceptive. He’s seen geese flying southwards when winter was coming, only to come back after snow thaws. But not her - she stayed until the warriors’ skin turned cold and grey. Let go of dead hands only after the heart stopped, never earlier.
“She’s not a bird,” the young Lothbrok speaks up. Friedgeir looks at him curiously. “Can’t you see?” he asks with a chuckle on his tongue. “She must be a Valkyrie, leading fallen warriors to the gates of Odin's hall.”
The Jarl only nods slowly, pondering Hvitserk’s words.
“If she is, perhaps death isn’t a too high price to be by her side.”
But he’s too young to be this patient and Hvitserk has to find a reason to be beside her now.
You’re taken aback when someone suddenly takes the wooden crate from your hands. The unexpected helper reveals himself to be none other but Hvitserk with a playful grin on his face. Despite giving all he could in the battle, just hours prior, he appears to still be vigorous as though the fight was a mere warm-up.
The man puts the heavy crate on his shoulder, securing it with one arm. What has given you backpain and cold sweat, seems like no chore to him. The Ragnarsons really are a different strain.
“Where do you want this?” he asks casually.
“At the pyre.” You point in the vague direction of where the bodies will be burned. “Illness thrives within the old, used dressings.”
Hvitserk begins wandering to the place you have pointed out and, not sure why, you begin to follow him. His strides are long and sure, his breathing calm and steady. He hardly fits the image of a man who had to fight like a rabid dog to survive just earlier that day.
“Are you not tired afer the battle?” you ask him. Confusion slips past your words.
“I am.” Hvitserk glances at you. It’s a quick look but you manage to notice him staring you up and down. “But I thought you might need help. You’ve been tending to the wounded for hours.”
A melodic, light chuckle escapes your lips.
“You’ve been watching me?”
His playful half-grin turns into a genuine smile. Staring at the road ahead, he almost looks bashful.
“I have a habit of admiring enticing things,” Hvitserks admits.
You feel your cheeks burning at the nonchalant compliment but you don’t let him notice that. Neither do you let his sweet words distract you.
“Then you must lead a busy, beautiful life.”
The man’s voice seems faraway and absent as he answers, as though his mind is suddenly occupied with vivid daydreams:
“Not yet.”
The noise of the camp is inaudible now. Only pine trees and wild berries accompany Hvitserk and you. A murder of crows suddenly takes flight as you pass by. Their cawing echoes through the empty forest.
You can’t quite put a finger on this sensation but something about Hvitserk makes you feel warm and calm inside. It’s the same feeling one experiences when sitting in front of a warm hearth after spending long hours in the cold. When the blood begins flowing again and the relief of not freezing to death is forgotten, the warmth and safety make one sleepy and giddy. But how can a man make you feel the same as a fireplace on a cold night?
Hvitserk sets the crate down with a low thud. The sound shakes you awake from your thoughts. A strong, putrid smell of blood, fresh wood and animal fat fills your nostrils. Even after all those years, it never gets easier to prepare people for their final journey.
“Thank you,” you begin awkwardly. Some more anxious part of you is suddenly terrified that he will somehow learn of your thoughts about him. “I don’t know if I could have carried it by myself all the way here.”
His lips curve into a sly grin and you can tell he’s about to weave a string of charming words but something about him distracts you instantly. Hvitserk’s shirt, once greyish-beige, is now brown and crimson. Not thinking much, you suddenly grab his arm. He doesn’t even get a chance to protest when you roll up his sleeve to reveal a, re-opened wound.
“Your hand is bleeding,” you state.
Hvitserk is unsure whether your stern gaze scares him or excites.
“It’s nothing.”
He tries to roll his sleeve back down but you swat his arm away. Pushing down on his shoulder, you force him to sit down on the ground with you.
“Well, it’s definitely going to scar,” you say quietly as you inspect the deep cut in his skin. “But the good news is, some women like men with scars. I know I do.”
You take out a sewing needle made from animal bone. For practicality, you’re used to wearing it pinned somewhere in your clothing. After all, one can never know when they might need it like when a handsome, charming Viking suddenly needs his wound stitched. Gods work in mysterious ways, truly…
A drop of blood drips from the wound each time you push the needle through the pale skin. Hvitserk is impressively collected - he only grunts a few times and clenches his teeth.
“All done,” you whisper more to yourself than him. In a quick, mechanical manner you wipe the skin of his arm again and roll down the sleeve of his shirt.
You’re standing up when Hvitserk decides he’s not quite done being the apple of your eye:
“How hurt does a man have to be for you to stay around longer?”
As though he didn’t just get stabbed eigh times in his cut and bruised arm, he’s staring at you with than same insufferable mischieviousness that you’ve grown to love so much. Sometimes you wonder whether this is exactly the reason he’s never had trouble charming women.
“A broken rib would do it,” you say with a shrug. “Or you could just ask.”
Suddenly, Hvitserk jumps to his feet. A newfound fire is burning inside him - a flame known only to those, whose affections are returned.
“Please?”
Jokingly, you frown at him.
“I didn’t know the Lothbroks knew such words,” you say in a surprised tone.
You feel his fingers dragging up your arm until his palm gently brushes against your cheek. The skin of his hand is dry and calloused, standing in a stark opposition to its owner.
“We hold it for special occasions.” Hvitserk’s voice is low, almost raspy.
“And me standing here is somehow special?”
“You don’t even know,” he whispers. His breath is hot against your cheeks. But how can a man make you feel the same as a fireplace on a cold night?
“Then tell me.”
At that moment, he knows he will have his entire life to remind you just how special you are to him; he will have his whole saga to love a Valkyrie.
#vikings#vikings tv series#vikings x reader#vikings imagine#vikings fanfiction#hvitserk ragnarsson#hvitserk#hvitserk fanfiction#hvitserk x reader#hvitserk x you#vikings hvitserk#hvitserk imagine#hvitserk lothbrok#hvitserk fanfic#vikings x you
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I wanna fuck virgin ivar so bad🤭 ivar whose never touched a women before, ivar who doesn't know there's more ways then just pleasuring a women with ur cock, ivar who whimpers, ivar who stares at you with hearts in his eyes as you bounce on his cock, ivar who will never leave you alone after it happens and begs his mom to let him marry you bc ur now his, I need him so bad 😩
#ivar ragnarsson x reader#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnarsson#ivar lothbrok#ivar x reader#ivar imagine#vikings tv
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Master List
Vikings
More to come....
#fanfiction#imagine#role playing#fandom#vikings#ubbe#hvitserk#sigurd#ivar the boneless#ragnar#bjorn#harald fairhair#explit#smut#oc#original character#tv show#lol-haha-joke#requests#don't be afraid#masterlist#writing
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Dating Hvitserk Would Include...
-Dating him would include him being very jealous at times and not understanding that you are fully committed to just him.
-He would also be very protective of you whenever some other men look at you for too long or even talk to you for a long time.
-He would be very protective in the times that you are near his brothers and also when there are new men in the village that just came in.
-Hvitserk loves to cuddle you and just touch you in general. Every night when you sleep, he has to be cuddling you, He does not really like to hold you down, he just really likes to be with you.
-Whenever you both are out together, he likes to hold your hand and hug you too. He likes to hold you too whenever you both are sitting next to each other.
-When you both are out eating dinner at the great hall, he likes to sit you in his lap and keep you there for most the night. Everyone makes fun of him for this, but he does not mind.
-He loves every single part of you and he makes sure that you know that too. He loves to always tell you how beautiful and wonderful you are.
-He is always telling you how perfect you are for him and how he wants to marry you and have kids some day with you. He tells you all the things he wants to do with you in the future.
#norway#viking#vikings#nordic#imagines#norse#scandanavia#vikings headcanon#vikings imagines#vikings fandom#hvitserk fanfic#hvitserk ragnarsson#hvitserk lothbrok#hvitserk x reader#hvitserk imagine#vikings fic#vikings imagine#vikings x reader#vikings series#vikings tv
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