#dark ragnarssons x reader

[deceitfuldevout]

Play Me a Tragedy

Dark!Ivar x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +2416

Warning(s): +18, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Mentions of past non con, Raiding, Forced pregnancy.

Author's Note(s): Y'all should know by now I'm all for the dramatics.

You and your husband, King Ivar, have been invited to a play. Accompanied by your children to celebrate your wedding anniversary. Filled with entertainment, games, and a feast. But it wasn't just any day, no. This was the day your entire world fell apart. When you were taken from your home, and everyone you loved. All to celebrate what was you considered to be the worst day of your life.

There had been stories told throughout the feast. Every last one of them stroked your husband's never-ending ego. Within only a few years, Ivar had gained a large mass of devoted followers who were willing to die for him and his cause. With that kind of power given to a mad man such as himself, of course it would go to his head.

Ivar convinced the people of Kattegat of his new world order. That if they follow him and him only would they achieve Valhalla. It was more a cult if anything. He made his people believe that you were his very own 'deity'. He claimed that you were made especially for him by the gods. That the two of you were destined for one another, as a way for Ivar to justify his actions. Even after being given the title of 'Queen', you had no say in politics. You were a glorified broodmare. There wasn't a single day that passed where Ivar wouldn't claim ownership over you. He would dress you himself in the finest silks and jewels during the day. By nigh. he would ravage you until the morning.

After the birth of your first child, you had finally broken. Willingly following his orders, knowing that there would be no one else to protect you and your child. Ivar was glad to claim you were finally his. Body and soul. Now proven with his cub. He would remind you everyday to be grateful that it was him who found you first. In his own words, "Who knows how it would end with any other man, this is what's best for you.", That you should be thanking him. Deep down you knew if it were another warrior, they'd tear you apart. After all, it was your husband's status that gave you access to such a luxurious life. A gilded cage fit for a queen.

Today he was obnoxiously louder than usual. His voice booms throughout the dining hall. The entertainers had saved the best story for last. 'A Tale of a Fallen Kingdom.' they called it. There were actors in costume to represent Ivar and his warriors. It only took a moment to realize which day they were reenacting.

The narrator clears his voice before beginning, "Five years ago, to this day..." he states, "King Ivar and his men visit a Kingdom, untouched by war and plague." it was then when the crowd decided to spew their distaste towards your people. Spewing insults and curses at your country's flag. Your brows furrow as your eyes widen. Had that much time really pass? Surely it hadn't been that long...it felt as though you'd been 'married' for almost a decade. But then again only a year with Ivar felt like forever.

It was almost unreal how accurate their clothes were. It had been a while since you'd seen someone dressed in your people's clothes. From the stage setup, to the costume design. It was like a memory had been extracted and put on display. You tear up at the sight of it. Truly missing your home more than ever. Part of you wasn't sure your family were still alive. There was a young maiden dressed in modest clothing. Not just any garb no, it was specifically designed for a lady in waiting. A title you were given from being the general's daughter. There your character stood, following the other meek women of the royal court.

You were portrayed as a ditzy, clumsy little thing. Who couldn't fend to save her life. Scoffing at the display, you turn to face Ivar who had found it all amusing. You roll your eyes. Did he truly find this mockery entertaining? It was obviously a political tool. Then your mind began racing. Was this truly how the people of Kattegat view you? That you were willing to betray your own people so easily. All to become Ivar's own personal whore. Your blood began to boil. This wasn't a love story but a tragedy. The young man dressed as Ivar lets out a triumphant laugh. Your counterpart had depicted you as an absolute moron, who craved the attention of a man that would give a second glance.

You scoff at the display. Out of all your ladies in court, you were the most educated. That's how you captured Ivar's interest. He had been fascinated by your intelligence. It was rare for women in your kingdom to seek an education, let alone willingly. Your parents supported you furthering your studies alongside the men. No one would question their general's only child.

Ivar used to sneak in a few pieces of literature for you to read. The next time he summoned you was for a game of chess. To his surprise you'd beaten him, his entire demeanor had shifted. He partially blames himself for underestimating a woman of these lands. But then again, not many were educated here. It was at the moment where his final decision was made, he had to have you.

Soon enough the audience follows with boisterous laughs. 'Ivar' releases his crutches before making an exaggerated dive for the woman. She squeals, "No no~you handsome heathen!" squealing as the man began to 'ravage' her. You felt a deep pit of despair, falling ill at the sight of their performance. Ivar on the other hand, was ecstatic. He indulged in the portrayal of himself, covering the growing smirk behind his cup. As the narrator continues, "How will the poor maiden survive such a world?" announcing it to the crowd.

It was then when the women clings onto 'Ivar' as if her life depended on it, "Please! King Ivar! Take me! Take me away from this boring life! Make a woman of me!" the woman boasts as she rips her blouse open, "I'm yours!" She lifts her skirts in a seductive manner. You felt sick to your stomach. This is not what happened, not at all. You had a life, a family that you were taken from.

You remember clawing at his face, hard enough to break skin. Ivar hisses from the sting. He lifts your shoulders and slams you against the ground. You felt dizzy from the impact. Air escaping your lungs as you cough to catch breath. Your vision blurs for a moment before realizing he'd already ripped through your blouse. He skillfully cuts through the garment, lifting your skirts to make way.

You despised Ivar's efforts at keeping a heroic image in public. Angry tears fell down your face. Because you, of all people, knew the truth. You have scars to bear with. From the leather bindings that burned into your wrists during that cursed wedding night, to the following months after. How he'd bound you to bed like an animal, until he was sure you were with child.

Ivar chuckles at your eldest son's discomfort. Seeing his parents being depicted as very passionate lovers. He rubs his head, "Someday you will also become a man." causing the four year old to gag. Ivar doesn't wince when your second born sits on his lap. She adores her father. Of course it was easy being the apple of his eye, and at times, she uses it to her advantage.

Every time you'd scold her, she'd run into her father's arms. You on the other hand despised his efforts at keeping a heroic image. When it was clear as day he was not to be trusted. The same hands that held your daughter close, were used to slaughter hundreds.

Seeing such a mockery being displayed to your children made your heart shatter. Tears began to trickle as you sob in silence. Your daughter notices and leaves her father to comfort you. Ivar is too absorbed into the play to pay attention. He lets out a boastful laugh, clutching his sides as the crowd roaring continues. It was during the king's coronation when the Northmen attacked.

Ivar and his men raided the other surrounding kingdoms. As a peace offering they were invited to the ceremony. Little did your leader know what sinister actions would play out. Ivar and the young king had been in talks for a peace treaty.

You held your girl close, shielding her from the next scene. It was the day he had taken you.

You and the other maidens just so happened to pass by the dining hall. It was at that moment when Ivar swore time itself had stopped. He had been mesmerized by your presence. You, a noble maiden had captured the heathen king's heart.

For the entire evening he hadn't cared for anyone's attention but yours. Ordering you to halt everything to give the King your attention. His obsession was obvious to everyone but you. He followed you around like a love-sick puppy. To the point where the King himself appointed you as his foreign advisor.

Ivar had tried everything to woo you. From the promises of riches, to land, to the title of noblewoman. All of which you politely declined. Stating that you were happy with you life the way it was. Part of you knew he wouldn't stop until you gave him the attention he so desperately craved. So much so that he decides to take matters into his own hands.

Suddenly the stage began to erupt with an array of ribbons thrown into the air. To symbolize the arrows lit aflame. Flashes of that night came to you in small doses. You're no longer in Kattegat but now residing in your kingdom, before it was burned to the ground. You could see what was once your home, burning right before your very eyes. Hearing the echoes of your people's screams. The day your life changed forever.

There Ivar was, crawling towards you as you ran for the door. "Help! Help me! Someone please!" you ran as fast as you could. The gates began to close. There was not a moment to waste. You ran because your life depended on it. But it was too late, the guards on the other side began to pull harder for the gate to close. Soon enough it had shut.

You slam it as hard as you can. Until your fists began to bruise, "Please! Someone help me! I'm the commander's daughter! Please!" taking a breath loud enough so that they can hear you, "Don't leave me!" sobbing against the metal doors. As you turn around to find Ivar had caught up with you. He grins from ear to ear covered in blood from the fallen soldiers. With a look in his eyes that said: You're mine.

On the other side of the border your father and his men fought to defend the kingdom's last line of defense. "Sir!" a solider ushers for your father, who scolds him, "Not now boy!" he swings his sword at a heathen climbing the walls. But the man insists, "It's your daughter." causing the general to halt, "What is it boy?!"

"She's missing."

"What has happened?!"

"She left for the market this morning."

Those words alone made his blood run cold, "No..." It was that day when your father had made the ultimate sacrifice. Either let the gates down and weaken the kingdom's last defense, or lose his only child. Soon enough, Ivar had already reached the gates, halting his army from furthering. He demands to speak with your father to make a deal, “General, will you let me wed your daughter?”

He scowls at such a command, “When it rains fire.”

Ivar hums, nodding at the man's proclaim, “So let it be.” He raises his arms in the air, signaling for his warriors to shoot. Hundreds of arrows are lit aflame and shot into the sky. It took three days and nights until your kingdom had finally surrendered. Ivar had won. Your kingdom had lost.

This was the ‘Great love story’ of King Ivar and his queen. Your remember the pain and betrayal felt was immeasurable. Those strong feelings from years ago all came down at once. Like something inside of you had finally tipped over. You finally reach your breaking point, bowing your head in shame. Crying to yourself as your daughter tries her best to comfort you. But her soft heart could no longer take the sight of her mother weeping, as she wraps her arms around you and cries.

It catches the attention of your husband. It was then when his mood had shifted. He couldn’t help but feel like a deep pit had been dug in his belly. Ivar swishes the ale in his mouth, swallowing it as if it were bitter.

He sighs, standing up from his seat, “Halt!” he commands. The room goes silent. There isn’t so much as a whisper. Ivar gathers the actors, lining them up in a row for interrogation. He orders the guards to bring the writer responsible for the play. Soon enough, a timid man is put on stage. It was then when you had to beg your husband to spare his life. Ivar lets out a huff, "You should be thanking my wife for sparing you. Don't let it happen again." with that the celebration had come to an end.

You left as fast as you could. Sending your children off to their rooms before returning to your dreadful marital chambers. You ready yourself for bed, hoping that Ivar would return much later. When you hear his footsteps approaching you don't bother to look him in the eye. You help your husband remove his leg braces; since he's only ever let you do it.

When the two of you are finally in bed, Ivar reaches for your waist. He wraps his arms around your body as he held your bodies together. He presses his nose against the top of your hair, whispering, "It was the gods who led me to you my love..." he sighs, breathing in your scent. He hums, "The healers have already informed me." he brushes his hand flat against your mid drift. He feels for the swell of your under belly, one of his favorite things to do. If he could stay like this forever, he would. Ivar reassures you with soft whispers, "There there my love, it is in the past..." as he gently wipes the tears away, cooing as you cried the rest of the night in his arms.

[angelsworks]

Little Witch The last kingdom x reader

Chapter 8

Little Witch Masterlist -> Here

Next chapter -> H E R E

Summary: You wake to find a gift from Uhtred. Later you leave the confides of your room to explore the market.

Warnings: Not historically accurate, possessive behaviour, creepy behaviour.

Dawn breaks across the sky. The world made light by the little rays that manage to pass by the vast cloud cover. The streets around you had started to fill with people. Carts and horses alike can be heard from the window. The clops of hooves and the scraping of wooden wheels on the stone below drift from the street.

You wake on your back, despite going to sleep on your front. The expected pain you feel never comes. Instead the sharp stabs and rubbing you’ve been experiencing is replaced by a dull ache.

Your eyes flick open and you see the room illuminated by the dull daylight. There’s no Uhtred next to you when you wake. Something that disappoints you greatly. Despite the heat that warms your cheeks when you think of the events that transpired, you’ve grown close to the Viking. There might even be a seed of fondness growing in your heart for Uhtred. Not that you’d care to admit that right now.

Still dressed in his undershirt, you slipped from the covers and furs. You stood, stretching till your bones popped and muscles were able to release some tension. Still you felt little pain.

Curious, you gingerly reached a hand up to your cuts. Finger tracing over the tops of them. Gently, brushing over those you can reach. You found that the start of a scab had formed on them. Even the deepest and most painful ones had started to heal. A vast difference to how they looked or felt a few days ago. Even compared to yesterday, it felt like you’d healed almost supernaturally.

It was all thanks to the salve of course. The Elders gave it to Astrid to give to you. They are the wisest and most experienced people you’ve come across. Their knowledge is vast of all pursuits. From medicine and healing to strategy and tactics. Your time with them was an opportunity to learn more about yourself. However, it came at a price. When you returned home you found Steffen in place of your parents. The thought of him makes you shiver.

Looking around the room you see everything as it was when you arrived. Apart from a chair that had been positioned in the middle of the room. Hanging over it was a dress. The sight of it made your eyes widen. Even as a girl you’d never seen something so pretty. The material was cotton, dyed to a deep blue. One that reminded you of the summer’s night sky. When even the dark of night wasn’t enough to stop the sun’s light.

The bodice was cinched at the waste in a pleat like manner. The sleeves were long and so was the skirt. It was a straight cut that had a dark blue ribbon stitched to the edges. Inside the dress was a stitched under layer. Designed to add extra thickness to the skirt and shield the wearer from the cold.

Below the chair, placed on the floor in front, were a pair of long leather boots. Detailed with strings and buttons to hold them up.

Your cheeks became warm once you picked up the dress to find the pair of panties underneath. The pants were a simple white cotton. They didn’t cling to your body when you put them on. If anything they helped to add to the volume of the skirt of the dress. After finishing your outfit by putting on the boots, you did a little twirl. Admiring the quality and design of the dress. It made you feel a girlish glee at how you looked and felt. Something you hadn’t felt for a long time.

Along with a few tankards and a plate or two, the room was bereft any sign of Uhtred. His absence was beginning to make you anxious but the bustling market outside was piquing your interest.

A short walk around the stalls shouldn’t hurt. You were sure it wouldn’t. The town was small enough you might even find Uhtred.

You left the room and shut the door, walking down the dimly lit corridor to the stairs. At the bottom you found a pub like area. Although sparsely populated, you felt you had all the patrons attention as you walked down the steps.

It amazed you the difference a bath and new clothes could make. You felt different in yourself and it seemed others could see that too.

You saw the woman who spoke to you and Uhtred last night. You went over to her at the bar. She was changing barrels, lifting them on to various shelves in the wall. Despite her outward appearance, she seemed to lift the barrels with little struggle. Almost as if she had muscle hidden beneath her skirts and puffy sleeves.

“Excuse me, have you seen the man I came in with earlier?” You asked her, keeping your voice low to avoid attracting the attention of the other patrons.

She turned to face you and gave you a once over. Her eyebrows briefly twitching as she registered the difference in appearance. You really must have looked a sight when you came in last night.

“No I haven’t. Could be he’s had his fun and left. Men like him do that you know.” She told you, turning back to your work.

You wanted to argue. Berate her for making such an assumption. Tell her that wasn’t the case and Uhtred wasn’t like that. You realised quickly, telling her such would not help. Better she not know and think you a one night stand than anything else.

As you stepped outside you raised your hand to shield your eyes. The difference in light from the bar to the street was drastic. Your senses instantly became aware of the new environment. Ears perking to the noises around you. Nose detecting the smells around you, people, horses, food. Eyes watching a sea of people wander the market.

You found yourself following a crowd walking down the street. Their cloaks were various greys and blacks and browns, simple colours. Colours that made you appreciate your blue dress that little bit more. It felt special. It felt like Uhtred wanted you to have more than the ordinary.

The crowd went in different directions. Leaving you to slow your steps. You wandered past a few stands. The stands sold various trinkets and fabrics, horse shoes and weapons, shoes and books. So much to look at. In the middle of the town square was a fountain. It was made of simple stone but carved with ornate details of flowers and people.

You passed by slowly, letting your fingers run over the stone of the fountain wall. Over to the corner of the market was a small stand outside a bakers shop. There a young man was selling breads and other baked goods. The man was soft looking. In the way of clear skin and soft short hair. Eyes that sparkled. He was pretty. A vast contrast to Uhtred and his friends. Even Osferth’s eyes didn’t shine like this man’s. Dulled by the sights of battles and the horrors of man.

Rugged was how you would describe Uhtred, Sihtric and Finan. Their experience in battle had made them hard. Hard with muscle and experience. Handsome.

Your thoughts were broken as the man’s gaze moved to you. It seemed you had been staring and that had been noticed. The corners of his lips turned up and your eyes turned away. Again you moved around the fountain, letting your eyes move elsewhere.

You watched other vendors at their stalls. Selling items and other possessions. Your people watching was cut short as a hand touched your arm. It jolted you, the unexpected contact. You snapped your gaze to the right, where the young man from the baker’s stand stood next to you. He held a loaf of bread in his hand, wrapped in a white cloth.

“Good day Lady, I noticed you from my stall. I thought I must come and speak to you. It would be wrong to miss the chance to meet an angel.” He told you, a smile on his face.

His comment made a genuine smile grown on your face. No one who knew you truly would compare you to an angel. Not with your ‘abilities’.

“What kind words you speak to me. Who is it I should thank?” You ask him coyly.

“I am Edgar lady. Baker in this town. Might I make an offering to such an angel?”

You laughed at his compliments. “I have not been called an angel before sir. However, If as an angel I get such delicious treats I would be happy to accept.”

Edgar smiles and his eyes twinkle as he gazes into your own. “You are pretty when you smile lady.”

All you could do was blush as you looked down, away from Edgar’s gaze.

He held out the bread for you. Gingerly you took hold of it, flicking your gaze to his own again.

“Thank you Edgar. I’m sure it will be lovely.”

Edgar’s gaze drifted to your body. His eyes scanning you head to toe as you looked away once more.

“Perhaps the lady would give a kiss for such an offering?”

Your breath caught in your throat as your brain became blank. You weren’t sure what to say. You hadn’t been flirted with enough to know how to deal with this. You wanted to politely say no but weren’t sure what anger that could arise from the man.

Edgar’s hand moved to your forearm. Perceived as a gentle gesture by onlookers but you knew different from his grip. It had grown tight around your forearm and was beginning the hurt you.

“Hey mate, seems you’ve found my sister. Now I’d suggest you take your hands off her before I take out my dagger and do it for you.” Finan sneers at Edgar.

Finan appears beside the two of you. A welcome sight to you. His face is that of fury. You’re sure this is the angriest you’ve seen him since meeting.

His threat is enough to scare Edgar into releasing your arm and taking a few steps backwards.

“Now piss off back to your bakery. If you so much as look at her again, I’ll take your eyes!” With a rough shove from Finan he takes off back to his shop. Leaving you to face Finan’s glare.

“What do you think you’re doing witch?” He speaks in a hushed, harsh tone. “You think it’s a good idea to go running off on your own. Are you looking to get hurt?”

You freeze, trying to shake your head and plead your case. Finan’s gaze doesn’t waver as he looks for an answer in your eyes. All he finds is a scared girl, looking up into his eyes with both gratitude and fear.

“Come on, you can explain to Uhtred why you felt the need to wander off.” He tells you. Taking your hand in his own. His grip is gentle though, careful not to hurt you or be too rough.

Finan leads you back through the town and to the pub you visited yesterday. He lets go of your hand long enough to open the door and usher you inside. You see Uhtred. He’s sat with Osferth and Sihtric with a tanker in his hand. A troubled look covers his face. A look that only lifts once his eyes meet your timid form moving towards their table.

He stands at once and leaves his tanker on the table. Uhtred takes determined strides towards you and reaches out to hold your arms. His eyes scan your form rapidly as he searches for any sign you are hurt.

“Are you hurt witch? Has someone harmed you? Kidnapped you?” His eyes meet yours and stare deeply, looking for an answer he won’t find.

“I’m fine Uhtred, honest. Nothing has happened.” You try and tell him, try to reassure him that nothing is wrong.

His eyes turn colder, harder. His gaze makes you shiver as you realise you could be in trouble.

“Then what would possess you to run from me? To wander off alone? Do you know what could have happened to you?” Uhtred scolds, shaking you slightly to get his point across.

“I wasn’t trying to run Uhtred. You left me alone. I was coming to find you.” The remark gets a scoff from Uhtred.

You try to move out of his grip, but Uhtred doesn’t let you. His eyebrows furrow as he tries to get your attention again.

“I do not care for excuses. When I leave you somewhere, I expect to find you there. Now listen to me y/n, the next time you run from me it won’t be Finan hunting you down. It will be me and I won’t just escort you back to our group. I’ll find you and bend you over the nearest surface, tanning your ass until I think the lesson of not running from me has been learned. Understood?” Uhtred speaks low enough that only you can hear. At least you hope only you can hear.

The thought alone mortifies you. Heating your cheeks and making you unable to hold eye contract with Uhtred.

His finger gentle hold your chin, tilting your head to look in your eyes.

“Look at me witch, tell me you understand.”

Finally you moved your gaze to Uhtred. “Yes Uhtred, I understand”.

“Good, now let us go. We still have plenty of ground to cover before reaching Coccham.”

Uhtred takes your hand and leads you out of the pub. The others follow suit. You find the group walking back through the town. Ending at the stable where you left the horses.

The same stable boy met you at the gate. His eyes watching you closer than before. The boy moved back to horses to give each rider their mount.

While he brought the horses over, Uhtred turned to you. He pulled a small pendent out of his pocket. The pendent was made of silver and strung on a black waxed cotton cord.

“I want you to wear this, it will keep you safe. It’s Thor’s hammer. In my culture it’s given to protect the wearer from evil.” Uhtred says softly as he ties the symbol around your neck loosely.

You touch the metal and feel the design under your fingertips, “Thank you Uhtred”.

The stable boy leads over Uhtred’s horse. His eyes still watching you, taking in your forms and any details he can see.

“Now come lady,” he winks at you, finding jest in his cover up for calling you a witch, “We ride to Coccham”.

Taglist: @captainlunaxmen @fleureeee @shitsandgiggles1 @laneyspaulding19 @bubblyabs

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Vikings (TV) Masterlist

my requests for vikings are currently partially OPEN! please only request imagines, and not oneshots. for those waiting for a continuation of ‘searching home’ or ‘unexpected’ i am so sorry... finishing those two is going to take me a while :/

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main masterlist | request guidelines

heorte til heorte

(msg me to be added to the taglist!)

relationship: athelstan x alethia stahl (oc) | summary: alethia wanted to go home, to return to her family. instead, she finds herself in ninth-century england. not speaking the language, and still processing the grief of her other life, she searches for an anchor - athelstan. | tags: angst, fluff, timetravel

masterlist | preview | read on ao3

No romantic relationships // character x character

Queendom - relationship: Lagertha x Aslaug | summary: They’ve both loved and they’ve both lost. Perhaps it was time that their hearts warmed again. | tags: angst, fluff

The Lothbroks, aka, the European version of the Kardashians - relationships: none | summary: When Barbie Murray time travels, she finds out that pink isn’t available in Viking times. Luckily, her new besties all understand that boobs are the best and slay (literally?!) with her. | tags: crack, fluff, timetravel

I may be a bimbo, but I’m not stupid - relationships: slight oc/ oc | summary: Ivar kills Sigurd in a fit of rage, but Barbie isn't so quick to forgive cruelness. | tags: angst, crack, timetravel

1st gen Vikings

Strange Woman  relationship: Rollo x timetraveler!reader | summary: The woman that appeared out of nowhere could be oh so dangerous, but even a stupid man would know that she was fascinating. | tags: fluff, timetravel

Friend of Thor - relationship: rollo x timetraveler!asgardian!reader | summary: The reader, a fellow Asgardian and friend of Thor and the new King of Asgard, Brunnhilde, falls through worlds as the new guardian of the Bifrost tampers with the magic. | tags: crack, fluff, timetravel

And the Gods wished they were me - relationship: Judith x viking!gn!reader | summary: Judith knows she should not mourn Athelstan. Nor should she even look at Norse heathens. She does both anyway, because Judith was named after a woman that had only rage and death, and she cannot escape her fate. | tags: angst, fluff

Ubbe Ragnarsson

Another day / part 2 - relationship: Ubbe x reader | prompt: we live to fight another day. | tags: angst

Oldest - relationship: Ubbe x timetraveler!reader; platonic!Ivar x reader | summary:  It seems that few things change about being the oldest sibling, no matter which place – or time | tags: fluff, timetravel, slight angst

Yggdrasil relationship: Ubbe x reader; platonic!Ivar x reader; dad!Harald x reader | summary:  How can you tell your father what happened to you when he’d done it to so many others. | tags: angst, dark/gory

Hvitserk 'Whiteshirt' Ragnarsson

Hvitserksdottir - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | prompt: “I think we need to talk about the fact that I’m in love with you and also that I’m pregnant.” | tags: angst, fluff

Floki’s Cabin - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | prompt: “Just trust me. Please. | tags: angst

Searching Home / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationships: Hvitserk x reader; Ivar x reader | summary: When you stumble upon the ancient Spanish city of Algeciras, it takes you some time to realize that you’ve traveled through time. While that is terrible luck, a merchant couple takes you in. But your peace only lasts so long. | tags: angst, fluff, dark/gory, timetravel

Neither - relationship: genderfluid!reader x Hvitserk | Summary: Hvitserk finds out about genderfluidity and accepts he might not be completely straight | tags: fluff, timetravel

Law of conservation - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | summary: You’ve been working as a tutor at your high school for about a year now. When your parents throw a barbecue party for your new neighbors, their mother Aslaug asks you to tutor her son Hvitserk, who is already a notorious flirt at his school. | tags: fluff

Sandcastles - relationship: platonic!hvitserk x timetraveler!reader | summary: reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it | tags: fluff, timetravel

When in Bali... -  relationships: hvitserk x reader, ivar x freydís, sigurd x oc | summary: You were supposed to go to Bali with your partner for your one-year anniversary. Instead, you’re there alone, heartbroken. Will reuniting with a friend you know from a summer vacation in elementary school be able to fix it? | tags: fluff

Ivar 'the Boneless' Ragnarsson

Unholy Matrimony - A Sham in Four Acts / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationship: Ivar x reader | prompt: I’ve learnt to love you. | tags: angst, fluff smut

Insatiable Little Heathens  - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: drabble, for all of y’all who wanted more of Unholy Matrimony | tags: fluff

Resolve - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: Ivar’s legs hurt but he’s so fucking thickheaded | tags: fluff

My kind of witch - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar bed. The man with blazing blue eyes fascinates you as soon as you see him and as you realize the struggles he faces every day, your admiration for him grows into something more. | tags: fluff, timetravel

Red - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: Ivar finally meets his match. | tags: smut, dark/gory

Serve - relationship: sub!ivar x buff!reader | summary: Ivar keeps teasing you. You finally have enough and give him a taste of his own medicine | tags: smut

Searching home / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 -  relationships: Hvitserk x reader; Ivar x reader |  summary: When you stumble upon the ancient Spanish city of Algeciras, it takes you some time to realize that you’ve traveled through time. While that is terrible luck, a merchant couple takes you in. But your peace only lasts so long. | tags: angst, fluff, smut, dark/gory, timetravel

Totally artistic -  relationship: ivar x reader | summary: When inspiration hits, you can’t stop it | tags: fluff

Sandcastles - relationship: platonic!hvitserk, ivar x timetraveler!reader | summary: reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it | tags: fluff, timetravel

Brother - relationships: ivar x reader, hvitserk & reader, reader & oc | summary: You left your home and your brother behind for a reason. Now, a man is causing trouble at the borders of Kattegat, and as Ivar's queen, you take justice into your own hands. | tags: fluff

Unexpected / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 - relationship: ivar x thrall!reader | summary: Ivar finally decides to fuck the slave he’s been eyeing for so long, but when his angry side slips out, things take a turn for the wholly unexpected. | tags: smut

Tarot -  relationships: ivar x reader, hvitserk & reader | summary: Your day at the fair has been pretty slow – until a client like no other shows up. | tags: fluff

Imagines

How the Vikings would react to an accidental time traveler and a quiz to see if you’d survive: https://uquiz.com/dVXpgW

Ragnarssons (+Gyda): First Kiss

Social Media 

How the Vikings would react to guns and snapchat filters 

How the Vikings would react to modern dancing 

How the Vikings would react to modern music, and what they’d like

How the Vikings would react to modern concepts of astronomy and space 

How the Vikings react to modern haircare 

Vikings and Astrology

How Vikings would react to THEM timetraveling

Vikings + getting sick 

Vikings + Halloween 

Vikings + realizing you’re pregnant

Vikings characters + how they'd react to finding Accidental Time Traveler crying somewhere and not knowing why 

Vikings + you on your period  (+ more hcs about Ivar)

Vikings + Legos

Vikings + reader being much less stressed in their time

Vikings + single mother

Vikings + Gender Neutral Thor

Vikings + modern food

Vikings + touch avoidant cuddler

Vikings + Kids

Vikings + their history

Ragnarssons + being possesive

Vikings + Maleficent/Fae!reader

Vikings + curls and afros

Vikings + sleeping habits

Vikings + contortionist/super flexible reader

Vikings as modern!uni students

Vikings + affectionate drunk!reader

timetraveling!Vikings + modern tv/movies

Vikings + gen z slang

Vikings + curly haired kids

timetraveling!Vikings + Christmas

Vikings + eras other than their own

Vikings + ivar being remembered/famous

[lavender-romancer]

Winter

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader CW: suicide mentions, conflict

You wanted to be his again, not owned by him but a part of him. But it had been so long since you'd felt close to Ivar that it felt out of reach as he descended into rage filled madness

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

You were drifting apart more and more with every hastily made decision fueled by anger that Ivar made. He would curse you, berate you and you could do anything because you didn't trust that he wouldn't kill you himself. You knew something was deathly wrong when you kept finding yourself high on a hill looking over a rock face, moving closer to the edge every time and not feeling afraid. It was impossible to not feel that you were lost in the dark of Ivar's tyranny. But you still craved his adoration, his love and the affirmation that he only wanted you. All of these things would never happen now, you weren't good enough for him.

You needed him running through your veins like a sickness that couldn't be cured- a toxicity that fuelled your love and in turn, your hatred for him. You didn't want to need anyone, when you were younger your mother had always taught you to never need anyone more than yourself. To stay self-reliant and not let anyone control you but, it was impossible. When you met Ivar he was the son of Ragnar, a grumpy boy with no battle experience and a soft spot for you. Now, after 6 years of marriage you couldn't decide if you needed to try harder or just throw yourself on to that cliff face.

"It feels like he's trying to erase me, fade me out of his life and forget I was ever there." You told Helga as you sat descaling some fish with her.

"Ivar is… complicated, I'm sure I had this conversation with you when you started seeing him. He's a different type of person from us. Not as emotional," she tried to smile but could tell that her words weren't necessarily comforting.

"I was so convinced that he loved me then, that he would do anything for me. But he just wants power and money and meaningless sex, I just can't believe he deceived me into this marriage." Helga suddenly gripped your hand.

"This is not your fault. As you said, you were deceived by someone who claimed to love you. The boy has some kind of power. It pulls some people in and I don't know what it is but it captured you," She paused. "I think you should tell him."

"He wouldn't even see me, I can guarantee there's a thrall rooted to his lap right now." You clenched your teeth together and tried to hold in your rage.

"You need to let it out, your rage. Go to the top of a mountain and scream, allow yourself to feel it." Helga suggested and you nodded.

"What I really want is to have him, it's pathetic but I'm so in love with him it's hard to overcome." You placed down the fish and groaned.

"It will pass, and if it doesn't, meet someone else who will be more emotionally attentive. Ivar seems like the kind of man who needs other people's feelings laid out in front of him." Helga smiled and her dark rimmed eyes made contact with you as the two of you carried on with the fish.

Ivar was drunk out of his mind, two naked thralls sitting on his lap as he'd occasionally take their breasts into his mouth. Some days he would forget you were even his wife, you hardly saw each other. He wouldn't say it was an excuse for his behavior but it was definitely a promoting factor of it. You used to smother him, cover him in a blanket of affection and make him feel like no one could hurt him. Ivar didn't remember when that stopped but he also didn't remember when he began sleeping with other women. The crossover between the two was so seamless it made him feel less remorseful, as if your absence made his actions warranted.

When Ivar saw you walk into the Great hall he felt less than he thought he would. In some ways he was happy to see how miserable you looked, hopeful you'd come crawling back to him in pure adoration. Ivar couldn't think of a better way to gain a woman's affection than by making her jealous. Unaware of his ridiculous thought process, Ivar continued looking you up and down through his eyebrows. You could only glare back at him as you headed towards your room, but you annoyingly had to go past Ivar.

"You despise me, wife?" Ivar asked and you stopped in your tracks, sighing deeply.

"Yes." You said simply, even though you loved him you needed him to wake up.

"But… that's not. What?" He said confused, pushing the thralls to the floor, with a resounding yelp from both the women.

"What do you want, Ivar?" You looked at him with such disdain it genuinely surprised him.

"You cannot speak to me like that!" He yelled and you sighed again.

"Then kill me." You sounded defeated, you didn't care anymore. It would be easier for it to all be over so you didn't have to deal with the emotional turmoil of him.

"I'm not going-" he paused. "You are my wife! Why won't you respect me?" He yelled again and you almost winced at the level of noise he was making.

For a few moments all you could hear was the scrape of his crutch and the crackle of the fire, for a moment it felt surprisingly peaceful. You just wanted to exist in that scene, a beautiful fire with furs on the floor in front of it where the local children would sit and be told stories. There was such a serenity to watching children's faces as they listened to a story, they hadn't experienced the hurt or the pain. All they knew was that this was their favourite day because they could sit inside the great hall and feel important. Even Ivar couldn't take that sense of pride away from them.

"Are you going to say anything, wife?" Ivar broke the blissful silence and you couldn't quite believe how aggravating it all was.

"I hate you, I hate what you've done to me." Was all you said and he looked astonished.

"I won't have this bullshit!" He yelled even louder before calling for his guards. "Tie her to a tree in the forest." He swatted you away like you were a pest but, at this point you saw no reason to resist. Ivar would do whatever he wanted with his power and most of the time that would mean fucking you around.

Even the guards were uncomfortable as they threw a rope over a strong tree branch and tied you by your wrists so that your arms always had to be extended. It wasn't the worst punishment you could have got, you were surprised Ivar hadn't got a lust for blood when you disrespected him. He would continue to degrade you and debase you no matter what you did, even though you loved him it didn't matter anymore. Ivar was so consumed by greed or power or hatred for you that he couldn't focus on anything else.

Your heart felt cold and tight. There wasn't any room for any more love because you had given it all away to someone who didn't want it or didn't realise how much he needed it. In one breath you would hope that he would just come and kill you and in the other, you still hoped he would wait for you. That he would allow your coupling to at least attempt to survive. Sometimes when you were around Ivar, you would feel a tiny part of your body decompose. One part of you died because you couldn't hold on to someone who only wanted to break away from you. But all you wanted was to be taken back to when you were younger, you needed him, you wanted him and he would never be what he was again.

[underscorewriting]

Taking Care…

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: none, maybe a tiny bit of angst?

Words: 844

A comfortable silence surrounded them as they watched the fire burn. Her fingers softly combing through his dark hair, making his eyes closed in satisfaction. Chuckling softly she watched him, watching how his lashes barely brushed his cheeks, how his mouth held the smallest smile, barely visible but still there. A low disproving hum escaped him as she stopped brushing through his, letting her hand just rest on top of his hair, feeling for any remaining braids she couldn't see in the light.

Opening one eye, he shot her a glare making her try to hide her giggle, placing one hand over his eyes, shushing him. Smiling softly he leaned back into her, letting her continue her work. Humming a soft tune she concentrated back on his hair, making sure it wasn't knotted anymore, before rinsing it with water again, watching the last of blood wash out of it. Biting her lip in worry of it being his own, she again thread her fingers through his hair, carefully feeling for any sign of a wound.

Softly taking her hand that was covering his eyes he brought it down to his mouth, kissing her palm lovingly, calming her nerves slightly making her sigh in relief. She was used to treating his wounds, but the ones on his head still worried her the most, not knowing what it could cause to the parts she didn't see. Still placing soft, featherly kisses on her palm and each of her finger tips, the young man couldn't help but keep his eyes closed, leaning into her touch, letting her take care of him.

They both barely said a word when he came back, just needing to feel each other close. Needing to be in the safe haven they created with one another. Tugging on his hair, she grinned down at him with a glimmer of mischievous in her eyes as his own fluttered open to find hers, his heart melting at the sight in front of him. His lover looking down at him with the most truest admiration, her lips pulled into a grin as she tugged on his hair to get his attention, not wanting to break the oh so comforting silence.

Raising an eyebrow he felt his own lips pull into a small smile. Leaning down she placed a soft kiss onto his cheek, leaving a trail of kisses in their as she made her way to his lips. Leaving tingles in their wakening, making the young king shiver slightly under her touch. As her lips finally reached his, he couldn't contain himself as he cupped the back of her neck, pulling he closer, deepening the kiss. Soft gasps slipped out of her mouth making him catch them with the kiss, smirking softly.

With heaving chests, Ivar let his hand slip onto her cheek, caressing the skin softly, making her smile tenderly at him. Her eyes held love. The love he never thought he'd receive. The love he knew was shining even brighter in his own eyes when he looked at her.

"I was so scared, Ivar." Her hand softly playing with his hair, not having the strength to find his eyes anymore. Showing weakness was something so fragile, they both still weren't sure wether it was alright for them to be so open about their fears. Ivars eyes softened as he heaved himself into the position opposite her, taking her hands. "Whatever for?" Worry settled on his features as her eyes welled with tears. Shaking her head she realized how hideous her fear was. He was Ivar the boneless, nothing could or would be able to hurt him. He was protected by the gods.

But as the months went on her fear started to settle in, more reason flooded her mind. What if the gods suddenly stopped protecting him, making him vincible, easier to hurt. More months passed and the fear was causing her many sleepless nights, making her visit the seer almost daily, slowly starting to obsess over her husbands wellbeing. Ivar was fragile, he wouldn't admit it but he was and she knew it. The whites in his eyes turning blue, his bones breaking, being her biggest fear.

A small tear slipped down her as she turned her head away from him. "You need someone strong, I shouldn't worry." Chuckling softly he pulled her onto his lap, being careful enough not to put too much weight on his legs. “What I need is for my wife to worry about me when I’m gone for battle.” His fingers now drawing small shapes softly on the outside of her thighs. A small smile now finds its way onto her face as she nuzzled her head into his neck, inhaling his scent, calming herself.

Smiling to himself Ivar began running his hair through her tangled hair, an evidence that she, again, was spending more time taking care of him and his needs than tending to her own. Placing a featherly kiss onto the top of her hair, he hushed her quietly, stopping her thoughts from torturing her.

[axelsagewrites]

wWoohooo open requests ❤️❤️❤️Could you maybe create something for Ubbe or Bjorn form the Vikings series?

Ubbe Ragnarsson*Meet Me Where We Met

Pairing: ubbe x f!reader

Word count: 1602

Warnings: hunting animals, fluff

Masterlist here

Ubbe loved his brothers in the weird way his family did but even he needed a break from them. the issue was there was few places to be alone in Kattegat. One particular eventful dinner had Ubbe excusing himself to take a walk which ended up taking him deeper into the forest than usual.

He wasn’t worried though. He knew these woods like the back of his hands. As Ubbe sighed and settled down to sit on a fallen tree a twig snapping had his head snapping up. It was probably just a rabbit but still he reached for the handle of his dagger when he realised the sun was setting.

Then there was a whoosh of leaves. Ubbe was ready to pull his dagger out when the rabbit ran out from behind a tree, straight across from where he sat. Ubbe almost laughed at himself, but his smile fell when the arrow hit the rabbit.

He hadn’t even seen the bow that fired it, but he was on his feet. “Who’s there?”

“Shh,” a voice hushed him from the trees.

Ubbe whipped around, looking to see where it had come from, but the voice seemed to mix with the wind. He turned and saw a deer, standing still, eyes dancing with fear.

Then the next arrow came. The deer hit the ground before it could run. Ubbe pulled the dagger from his belt just as a person walked out from amongst the trees. you were holding a bow out in front of them, their spare hand in the air empty. “I didn’t mean to startle you,”  

The cloak you were wearing was a mix of dark greens and blacks. With your hood up and a black fabric wrapped across the lower half of your face it was no wonder he hadn’t seen you.

“Put the bow down,” Usually he figured himself a good one on one fighter, but he didn’t need to see what else you could do with a bow. You threw it forward, dropping it at his feet before reaching up to pull the fabric around your face down.

What he really hadn’t expected was to find you so attractive. Now he could see you it was clear to him how beautiful you were as you lowered your hood. But there was something else, “You look familiar,”

“I live in Kattegat. Perhaps you have seen me around now,” you said, walking towards the rabbit near his feet, “Would you mind putting your own weapon down?”

Ubbe could feel his cheeks heat up when he realised, he was still in a protective stance. He quickly stashed the dagger back in his belt. he watched as you picked it up and took out the arrow before tossing it into a bag on your side. “Quite the hunter I see,” he said, nodding towards the full bag by your side.

“Someone has to do it,” you said as you walked to the deer and crouched down.

Ubbe followed you over, grabbing your bow so it didn’t get lost. “You don’t enjoy it?”

You paused for a moment, “I enjoy the quiet. Being alone. Being able to not have to think. I don’t enjoy killing them,”

It was an odd thing for Ubbe to hear. Everyone in his family seemed to enjoy killing and hated the idea of quiet. “Sorry if I ruined your peace,”

“Nah,” you grinned up at him, a quality he founded oddly endearing, “I’ll forgive you if you help me carry this back,”

Ubbe grinned right back at you, “You drive a hard bargain,” he said as he crouched down across from you. “I never got your name,”

“You never asked,”

“I’m Ubbe,”

“(Y/N),”

-

The next day Ubbe went on another walk to the same spot, sat on the same fallen tree, and waited. It was on his walk back he realised how foolish he was. Of course, you would not be in the same spot twice. But how else was he to find you?  When you arrived back to Kattegat last night a man you claimed as your brother saw you and took over for Ubbe to carry it home since the sun was long gone.

Still Ubbe went back each day just encase. He enjoyed the quiet of it all. He found himself able to relax for the first time in a while as he sat on that tree. it had been a week since he had saw you, so he almost didn’t recognise you at the market.

Your hair wasn’t braided back out of your face. It was left mostly loose with small braids throughout. Your dress was red and would never be able to blend with the trees. But one thing was the same.

“Ubbe,” you grinned, that same smile as before. You greeted him as he walked up to your stall at the market. It was mainly animal skins and pelts with a few other items scattered around.

“I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” he said, chuckling to try make it sound like a joke, but the thought had crossed his mind, “You’re a hard person to track down,”

A smirk tugged at your lips, “I try. Anything take your fancy?” you asked.

Ubbe looked over the table, wondering how many nights it took you to gather these all. One caught his eye in particular, “Is that our deer?” he asked, pointing to the skin.

“Our deer? If I remember correctly my arrow killed it,”

“I helped you carry it back,” he countered, “Don’t I at least get a discount for that?” he teased as he leaned over the table. You pretended to think about it before shaking your head.

“Ten silver for the pelt,” you told him. Ubbe went to reach for his money, but you continued, “Or eight if you help me hunt tonight,”

“Ah so I did help?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, “Not even slightly. But the company was not bad,”

Ubbe shook his head at you, grinning like a fool as he pulled out the silver, “eight it is,”

“Meet me where we met?” you offered as Ubbe rolled up the deer hide.

“You mean where you almost killed me?”

“Honey if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead,”

-

There was no reason for Ubbe to feel so nervous as he sat and waited. You told him you’d meet him after supper, but time was marching on. Maybe he was in the wrong spot? Or maybe he was too early or-

“Boo,” you said, leaning down next to his ear.

“What the fuck!” Ubbe screamed, jumping up off the log as you began to cackle. His shoulders relaxed when he saw it was you, but he still was panting out of breath, “Don’t do that,”

“Did you not hear me?”

“Clearly not!”

“Alright I’m sorry,” you laughed, stepping over the log to sit on it.

Ubbe finally regained himself before turning to you with a confused look. “Where’s your bow?”

“Eh, thought I’d give myself the night off,” you said before looking between him and the tree log, “You wanna sit?”

“So how come you wanted to meet me?” he asked, moving to sit beside you.

The way his blue eyes bore into you with such confusion and hope made it hard to look back at them. “Don’t know really. Just thought it would be nice. The quiet you know?”

“You invited me to come sit in silence with you?” he asked, an eyebrow raised and a smile on his lips.

You felt yourself becoming unexplainably shy under his gaze, “We don’t have to be silent the whole time,”

“It’s alright,” he said, settling into his seat, “We can just sit for a while,”

So, you did. For a good hour you sat silently beside each other, at some point moving to rest your head on his shoulder and his on your head, just enjoying each other’s company. After a while though you began to make small talk.

The small talk did not last for very long though. You moved from topics of how many siblings to venting to each other. You told him about how much you hated hunting, how you only did it to survive, how you’d rather farm instead. He told you about his brothers, how loud they were, how aggressive they were, how much he longed for a quiet evening.

“I love them, I do I just- “

“Don’t like them sometimes? I get that,” you said, turning to face him, a task that was far less daunting now.

Ubbe turned away though, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “I shouldn’t be putting this on you,”

“I don’t mind,” you said, leaning forward to force him to look at you, a small smile on your lips, “Sometimes its nice just to talk,”

“I’ve never been good at it. the whole talking thing. Its easier to just accept things. it’s not like they’ll change,”

“You never know. Besides,” you said nudging his knee with your own, “I like when you talk. It’s good to talk about these things. honestly until this tonight I think I was slowly losing my mind,” you laughed.

Ubbe chuckled as well, “I get that. trust me,” he paused as he looked into your eyes. You were both silent again, a smile on both your lips.

“I should probably go back soon,” your words made his heart drop, but he did his best to conceal it, “Will you meet me again tomorrow?” and just as quickly it fluttered again.

“I’d love to,”

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[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Ivar Ending: Vikings - Una Flor

Summary: It began with flowers, but it bloomed into something more

Pairing: Ivar x Reader (romantic)

A/N: It has been such a long time since I touched this series or even tried writing for fun. I feel rusty and not too confident, but it was nice to write after such a long time. A bit short, but I think it was decent.

Una Flor Series Masterlist

Ivar was seated rather comfortably on his throne, watching with keen eyes as his twin boys sparred harshly with one another; elbows into the gut and tackles into the ground as a circle of people cheered for either of the boys. It was an even match between the two, similar height, similar weight, and similar fighting prowess. The only discernible difference between them was the different shades of brown in their hair. 

It seemed that the sparring match would go on for quite some time, until the twin with lighter brown hair began to lose his footing and the other with dark hair was quick to use that moment for his advantage. 

Wrangling the other onto the ground and keeping him in a hold until the other tapped harshly to be released. The crowd cheered in delight before going back to their tables, the music started up again, and they drank from their horns of ale. 

Ivar smiled with pride and clapped slowly as his boys approached him with wide smiles. 

“What did you think, Papa?” Asked Erik the brother with lighter brown hair. 

“You both did quite well,” he said. “And I am proud that you have worked hard in your lessons, Erik and Alaric, but you will need to be more aware of your footwork. I cannot help in that, but I will bring it up to your mother for when she plans your next lesson.” 

After her first initial lessons from Bjorn, (Y/N) had continued training to become a skilled warrior and even after she married Ivar, she continued to train. She hadn't set aside her love of homemaking, but she had come to enjoy learning the new skills until eventually, the Ragnarssons all agreed that there was nothing they could teach her and it was just as well, because she had been the one to pass on their teachings to her twin boys.

“Speaking of mama, where is she? Wasn’t she beside you earlier when we started sparring earlier?” Asked Alaric, the brother with darker brown hair. 

“Behind you,” came the voice behind them. 

It was enough to startle all of them that they jumped in their place. 

“Mama! / (Y/N)!” They all cried out indignantly. 

She giggled as she handed their sons a bowl of stew each, “We will need to work on your awareness next time that we have lessons, but to answer the question, I simply stepped away to bring you food after your bout.” 

As if they were starved animals, the twins were quick to dig into their meal of a hearty stew and a fresh roll of bread. Sitting on the steps of their father's throne and gently leaning against him with care as they ate to their fill.

While the boys remained distracted, Ivar gave his wife a skeptical look.

"What else were you doing, wife?" Ivar asked. "You spent too much time to have brought the boys only a meal."

She smiled at him softly, tenderly cupping his cheek in her hand and pressing a kiss to his temple. At the same time that she placed a flower in his hair.

"Our flowers are finally in bloom, and I came to bring you the first one" she whispered.

Ivar flushed in embarrassment as he remembered his blunder all those years ago in his youth, but he was grateful for it all the same. It had started with flowers, but their love had certainly bloomed into something more.

[author-morgan]

Title: Riverside Rating: M Pairing: Harald Finehair x fem!Reader (and Halfdan the Black) Summary: Harald Finehair may be a fool, but at least he has his brother, and at least he has you. ❤️plot bunny that's been collecting dust for two years by @mrsragnarlodbrok ❤️

down by the river by the boats, where everybody goes to be alone

“YOUR BROTHER IS a fool,” you remark, watching Harald Finehair slip away with the princess who once promised to be his queen—the woman whose husband had only just been murdered in the early hours of the morn. Halfdan the Black watches his brother too, lips twitching as he lifts his cup of ale, taking a short quaff of the weak brew. He’ll be glad to leave England—an army of this size meant dwindling supplies, game, and ever-weakening ale and mead.

He picks off another hunk of meat from a roast pheasant. “Is that meant to be news?” Halfdan asks in turn, smiling as he flicks his stringy blond hair aside and out of his eyes—his dark gaze flitting back to you. Harald’s always been a fool when it comes to women and love, and Halfdan doubts time and age will ever change that.

“Halfdan,” you chide. Harald is a fool—a fool for thinking Ellisif would wait for him, a fool for killing Vik so crassly in the heart of the camp. You both know he is, but watching Princess Ellisif slip away with her husband’s killer makes you uneasy. Grief and the thought of vengeance would not have left her mind yet. And such things can drive people to act in unpredictable ways. “You don’t think it’s odd she wishes to seek a private audience with him only a few hours after he killed her husband?”

Halfdan raises his brow—the blue-black ink of the tattoo on his temple and forehead twitches and wrinkles. At the moment, he’s more content with filling his belly and entertaining your company than fretting over his brother, yet you won’t let the subject rest so easily, and deep down, Halfdan knows you are right, as is the feeling of dread in his liver. “Had it been me, the thought of retribution would not yet be gone, nor the fog of dolor.”

You make a convincing case, and with a sighing frown, Halfdan pushes away from the table and you, heading toward Harald’s tent—hand resting on the hilt of his sword, knowing already he will have to serve as his brother’s protector once more. A moment later, Halfdan emerges from his brother’s pavilion. The sword in his hand is coated with blood, bright and red. And it would seem, after all, he knew women far better than his brother—or at least how to listen to you. 

He frees a cloth from his belt and slides it down the blade, cleaning it with a single long swipe as he looks at you, watching and waiting. Halfdan doesn’t have to say anything as he approaches for you to know, but regardless, your lips quirk upward. “Told you,” you declare, and he makes a low sound of agreement from the back of his throat, taking the cup of ale you offer. You knew Ellisif would not have so easily nor quickly forgiven Harald for his transgression, especially after not upholding her promise to wait for marriage. 

Harald’s curses and fit of rage ring out in the brisk air. You know there’s little that can soothe his heart and pride, but if anyone in the Ragnarsson encampment can make an earnest attempt, it is you—Halfdan knows this too. “I’ll see to him,” you breathe, taking one last drink of ale. Halfdan grips your arm before you can go to his brother and leans close, offering a soft, quick kiss over too soon.

THE RIVER FLOWS slowly, given its breadth near the encampment of the Sons of Ragnar—a hundred longships are pushed up against the banks and moored in the water. Together, you and Harald walk along the water’s edge, heading north, where fewer ships and wandering eyes and ears are. The blood on his hands and chest is nigh dry, and it makes his red woolen tunic stick to him and stiffens his silver-tinged beard.

Harald Finehair looks at you but cannot dispel what you must think of him, of these circumstances—your expression is only a cool mix of solicitude and what he thinks is annoyance. Yet again, he finds himself failing to understand the mind and heart of a woman—one he has known since childhood, no less. “My brother is lucky,” Harald admits, feeling a spike of jealousy stab at him as he thinks about you and Halfdan, “to have only ever loved you.” But had he ever truly loved Ellisif beyond his desire for her beauty? Even he is not sure of the answer.

You stop near the prowl of one of Jarl Olavsson’s ships—his shields and sails marked by white and dark green—and stare at Harald, aghast and confused by his insinuation. “Do I no longer have your love?” You ask, reaching for him and the leather ties at the neck of his tunic.

“I had thought–” his voice trails off as he looks at the flock of blackbirds flying overhead, unsure if it is a sign from the gods or just an ill omen. He lets you draw him nearer, but it’s only when the flat of your hand connects with his bloody cheek that his gaze and attention return to you—his stormy blue eyes filled with bewilderment and indignation. He stares at you, nostrils flared. 

“No, Harald!” You’ve finally grown exasperated by his foolishness—you could tolerate his laments about love and marriage, but to nigh let himself be killed by a recreant woman under such circumstances? “You didn’t think!” You tell him, and Harald steps back, hands curling to fists at his sides. He needs to hear this, though, if not from his brother, then from you. “And if you did, it was with the wrong head.” The same head all men think with first when it comes to women.

“You speak to a king,” he reminds you, puffing out his chest—a weak reply, and you both know it.

You shake your head and reach for him, hands settling on either side of his blood-spattered face—thumbs following the blue-black scrollwork of the tattoos on his cheeks. “And I am also speaking to one of my oldest friends,” you remind him. King or no, Harald and his brother are among your oldest and dearest friends—they could be little more than farmers or simple whalers, and you would think no less of them nor love them less. There’s a shift in Harald’s expression then, as though he realizes the error of his ways in disregarding your and Halfdan’s counsel, and hubris fades to humility. “One whom I care for and love very much.” Love, the word catches him off-guard. Then an ephemeral smile returns to grace your lips. “Even if he is pigheaded at times.”

He forces down the growing knot in his throat. “My brother–” Harald starts, but you press your fingertips to his weathered lips, shushing him and chasing away any apprehension or fear of driving a rift between the three of you with what comes next. “Halfdan knows,” you tell Harald with airy unconcern—fingers slipping down to comb through his silver-tinged wiry beard. Your trysts had never been clandestine, even before whatever this unspoken thing with his brother began before the first raid on Paris. “He’s very astute,” you remark, the corner of your lips quirking upward again. “You could stand to learn a thing to two.”

He huffs, then goes to the river, shrugging off his tunic, and kneels at the water’s edge, splashing the cold water on his face and chest—scrubbing the drying blood of the woman he once intended to marry. He stares at his reflection, shoulders falling forward, accepting his ill-fated pursuit of marriage and defeat, alas. “I’ve been a fool,” he grumbles. You crouch next to him, dipping your hand in the river to help wash the blood from his shoulders and the back of his neck, humming your agreement—gladdened to know it is no longer a whispered secret between you and Halfdan. “You’re not supposed to agree with me,” he admonishes, mirth slipping back into his tone.

There’s a scar on his shoulder, and without thought, you lean toward him, placing the gentlest and quickest of kisses on the raised patch of silvery skin. You can recall how he and Halfdan have gotten most of their scars, but the history of this small mark evades you right now. When you meet his eyes, you see him staring at you with a look of raw hunger and desperation you’re entirely unprepared for, and it sends a wave of heat washing over you. But he’s so gentle when he handles you—even in all his lingering anger and hurt.

He holds your chin until his thumb swipes across your flushed cheek—always touching you like you’re some fragile, precious thing and not a shieldmaiden—and then his lips part, and he exhales a shaky breath, waiting for your permission, spoken or otherwise. You give it with a breathy sigh of his name. Harald. His warm breath hits your cheek, followed by the faint tickle of his scraggly beard at your jaw before his lips are fully on yours. “Let me have you.” His plea is soft against your mouth—and you cannot deny him.  

Skirts rucked up around your waist, Harald grips your hips, drawing you closer to him until his wool and linen-clad thigh presses between yours. His touch is fervent—hot palms, calloused from years of battle, scrape over the bare skin they touch. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before kissing you—languid and soft. Your hands grasp at his back to pull his chest to your own. And then he fumbles to loosen his belt, but you knock away his hands, and Harald curses and groans when your hand slides into his undone britches, fingers wrapping around his half-hard cock—stroking him.

Your stomach flutters as his fingers caress you briefly, fleetingly—but gone far too soon. Your hips move towards his touch, but now is not the time for drawn-out caresses and teasing. In truth, he's not focused on your pleasure but more on his desire.

Harald pushes forward, rocking his hips slowly until his cock is fully sheathed inside the warmth of your cunt, and his hips meet yours. You gasp, somewhere between a whine and moan, head tipping back, and Harald takes the chance to press his lips to the base of your neck. He’s gentle as he trails a hand down your side and holds your waist—he and Halfdan have always been two sides of the same coin as lovers.

You lay back—letting him do as he pleases. He needs this moment, this release, far more than you do. His thrusts start slow, lazy almost, as though you’ve all the time in the world—like you’re back in Tamdrup on a spring night in a patch of wildflowers or bale of loose straw in a stable, not lying on a muddy English riverbank on the verge of another battle—not knowing if tomorrow will be the day Valhalla beckons you home.

He looks down at you—splayed beneath him and his gut twists with a sickening realization. I’ve been a fool, Harald thinks again, cradling your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb pressed against your parted lips, chasing a woman who could never love me. But you. It did not matter what misfortunes or victories the gods bestowed upon him. You were always there—never faltering from your place at his and Halfdan’s side. He’s only ashamed not to have realized or acted sooner.

Your legs spread wider to welcome him, squeezing at his shoulders to urge him to move faster. Every push and pull of his hips brings him deeper inside you. Harald pants at your ear, his breathing ragged and strained as his pace falters—thrusts growing quicker and rougher as he seeks release. Beneath your palms, the muscles in his back ripple, contracting with each thrust. His lips find yours again, and you pull him down closer until his bare chest presses against the rumpled wool of your dress bodice—nails scraping across his shoulders and the patchwork of tattoos on his shoulder blades.

The look in Harald’s eyes is nigh unsettling—a mix of emotion you do not wish to think about in this moment of lust and carnality—and you squeeze at his biceps, urging him to move faster, and when his trance breaks, he obliges. He breathes hushed praises against your neck and strokes a thumb over the racing pulse in your neck as he rolls his hips up into yours—strokes long and deep. 

You whine and squirm for him, grinding your hips into his. The next time he moves, his cock strikes the place inside you that makes you cry out without thinking, and your toes start to curl—he does it again and again, thrice over. “Harald.” He works himself deeper still, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and he doesn’t miss the shiver that goes through you or the way your muscles tense—cunt squeezing his cock tighter. His breathy, open-mouth kisses grow sloven as you fumble to keep in rhythm, your movements slack—distracted by the fog of ecstasy in your head.

Breath hot against your lips, his eyes drift shut in unison with yours. Behind closed eyes, all that triumphs is the feel of your bodies sinking into each other. He will not last much longer. Harald barely manages a coherent rasp of your name, teeth gnashing, when his entire body shivers and he stills deep, deep inside, cock twitching. 

His livid eyes are dark, like a stormy sea when they open once more, and there’s a crease between his brows that you have a yearning impulse to kiss away—and so you do, and in the wake of your lips, you smooth your fingertips over his brow. “I do love you, Harald,” you tell him—a breathless whisper—and suddenly, the knot in his throat and the offbeat feeling in his heart is back. “Just as I love Halfdan.”

He says nothing, only rests his forehead against your shoulder and shivers when your hand runs along his back, finding his dark braid to run your fingers along. But there’s a new dampness on your flesh—tears for love lost and love found.

HIS TEMPER IS quelled upon returning to the encampment, even if his heart has yet to mend. Halfdan rises from his spot at one of the fires, leaving the waning conversation with Björn Ironside when he sees you and his brother approach. The whispers around the camp of what happened between Harald, Vik, and Ellisif have already faded with new discussions of the army’s next move in Mercia—steadily creeping closer to Wessex and retribution upon King Ecbert for his part in Ragnar’s death. Harald swallows his pride and glimpses you before turning his attention to Halfdan. “Thank you, brother,” he says. “Yet again, I owe you my life.”

“I’ll always watch your back,” Halfdan replies, pressing a cup of ale into Harald’s hand before clasping his shoulder—then his gaze flits to you, and he smiles, a glimmer shining in his dark eyes. “But next time we tell you to kill someone, you should listen, yeah?” Harald shakes his head, looking down into the cup of ale with a dry laugh. You both told him to rid himself of Ellisif before setting sail to England. He should have listened then—knows he was a fool not to have. But once more, it is the three of you, and maybe that is how the gods always intended it to be.

[Harald & Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @kaexiao / @midnightmuze / @moonlightsspirit / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenfinehair / @queenyalo / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Vikings taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[synintheraven]

✵pairing: sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

✵summary: you finally find Ivarr Ragnarsson and a cup of ale gives an unexpected turn of events between the two of you.

✵tw: mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol, drinking, other than that lots of fluff :p

✵word count: 1,3k

characters info | part five

The sun was hiding behind clouds and a thin layer of snow covered the hills around us. It was cold, the wind crawled under my clothes and a shiver climbed my spine as their eyes were on me.

We had just arrived to Repton, yet the little army under Ivarr and Ubba's command was far more cautious than that of Tamworth. And as their famously reckless Lord stood proud before us, the rabid dogs followed close behind.

There were no children, no wives. Only soldiers dressed in mail, their Lord's most trusted hounds.

—And what of her? Is she your gift to me? —Ivarr asked almost too proud of himself and I was ready to bite back, but Sihtric was quicker to answer.

—She’s my woman. —He said. I frowned, his words still echoing in my head.

—Slave girl? —The Ragnarsson grinned, his eyes fixed on my expression. —Either that or she hates your cock.

Sihtric then gave me a strange look, his hand finding its way along my back and stopping where my butt joined my back, pulling me awkwardly closer to his side. —We’re just tired, it was a long journey from Theotford.

Surprisingly, he seemed to bite on Sihtric’s lie, while I pictured myself with a knife going through the Dane's throat.

—So, why are you here? Guthrum isn’t treating his hounds right?

—We got word that a son of Ragnar had taken Repton, so we thought to serve a true dane lord was better than to follow a stupid man to his defeat.

We knew nothing about Guthrum; not the colour of his banner nor the look of the man’s face. But it was easy to make up a lie when the man himself wasn’t there to deny it, though in truth Guthrum would’ve embraced us as his warriors as long as we looked like Danes.

Ivarr was hesitant, like dry weeds waiting on a spark to set ablaze. Yet he welcomed the fire, not afraid to get burnt.

—Ha! —He said loudly, his gaze studying me with curiosity as he crossed his arms. —And you, woman? Can you fight? Or are you only here to please this pretty warrior? —He finished as he looked at Sihtric, but he was out of words.

—The son of Ragnar wants me to teach him how to use his axe? —I snapped back happily, but my man, the one I wasn’t aware I had, was concerned about Ivarr’s deadly stare.

—I love sassy bitches, you can stay. —He smiled widely, as the men around us joined their lord with a grin. —Same for you, pretty boy.

Everything was blurry; the candles provided the room with a gloomy light and the flickering flames made the shadows around us deeper than they really were, like if whole territories hid among that darkness.

It made me wonder about the unknown, all that is hidden from plain sight but lurks in the blackness of the night. The wild beasts, the magic creatures, and all else that is hidden to us mortals.

I could hear the voices from the drunken warriors around me, their laughter, their joy after a succesful battle. The sound of wooden jars and metal clashing as they celebrated with ale, their harsh steps on the floor.

I was hearing Sihtric as he talked, telling me one more time stories about all his battles, all he had conquered to get here, to England. All about the raids: priceless treasures, gold-filled chests and wealthy norse fools ready to give everything up if only to escape an unneccesary fight, all that he'd managed to steal for himself after years of serving under Yggr's banner.

I watched as he wrapped his hands around the mug and a puddle of ale drenched the linen around his arms, yet he didn't seem to care. A tattoo showed from under his sleeve, an interesting shape playing in the shadow and hiding from the candle light. He simply kept on talking, ever proud and happy about his stories, his life.

Maybe it was the ale, maybe there was something in the air that night, but his words sounded funny in my ears. He was explaining how he once cut off a man's hand with an axe: the splatter of blood, the horror in that man's voice as he screamed out of pain. But all I could hear was a mumble, his attempt at sounding coherent while the ale made its way through his throat.

And so, I laughed. Sihtric's response was to look at me with a frown, then proceeded to burst out laughing with me.

He suddenly stopped and went completely quiet, worrying me for a moment that perhaps I was the reason of such a sudden change in his reaction, though nothing about his glare betrayed whatever was going on inside the man's head.

A young girl walked in our direction, trying hard to avoid Sihtric's eyes. She was skinnier than the others, with skin as white as snow and several bruises dyeing the flesh around her neck, making it no surprise that she was so afraid of the drunken warriors surrounding her. But she was there to serve drinks and so she would.

Her trembling hands made their best to hold the jar firmly and fill his cup, avoiding eye contact with the fearsome man before me. Yet when she was done and ready to escape, his hand wrapped around her wrist.

For whatever reason, I felt as if fire burnt inside of me; but I couldn't recall what was causing such a feeling, nor could I stop myself from standing up, as if something else was controlling my body.

—You're too pretty to be working at this stinking alehouse. —He said while pulling her closer, watching as the poor girl's panic intensified. —There's nothing to fear, woman, wouldn't you rather be with me than serving all these bastards?

There was a glimpse of a smile on his face, despite the terror in her eyes. He was a good man, for a drunken fool, and would've easily let her go if asked to: but that's not what those women were used to around there, so she was desperately looking for a way out.

So I took his mug in my own hand, spilling all its content on the floor. And his confused reaction was priceless.

—You better have a real good reason for that bullshit, y/n. —He stood up, freeing the girl's wrist, though she was still too frightened by him to go away.

—You're trying to hump some random girl and expect me to act as if I didn't care? —I asked with pride in my voice, though struggling to figure out what those words were supposed to mean.

He frowned again, probably trying to remain offended but failing miserably as a silly smile appeared on his face.

—We're supposed to be together, don't you remember, my love? —My words made no sense, yet they seemed sufficient for him, even if Ivarr and Ubba were too far from us to hear anything we were saying.

—Right! —His eyes widened up and he quickly took a step further from the girl, resting his hand on the messy table. —It's just that I'm so in love with you and to touch you would mean to ruin your pure beauty.

To this day I still don't quite remember what happened that night, nor do I recall when did the scared girl left us and ran back to the owner of that shithole of an alehouse. But I do, however, remember how he started to laugh mid-lie and looked down on his empty mug, only to remember I was the cause of it.

—Or perhaps my dear husband struggles to use his plow sword with his beloved wife. —I snarled back and once again he let out a noisy laugh then went quiet when he realized I had meant no compliment by that.

—Are you challenging me? —He asked with a playful smirk, leaning closer as I wrapped my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers on his hair.

My heart was beating hard: surprised at the shiver running through my body as I felt his skin on the tip of my fingers. And, for the first time since I’ve met him, something about his gaze felt different.

The candle light reflected on his face, his brown eye looking warm and inviting while the other side was ever bright, sea waters dancing within his eye.

His breath smelt of ale and his hands were getting a little too comfortable around my waist, but that didn’t stop me from reaching for his lips; even as he teased me, pressing the tip of his nose to my cheek, but avoiding my touch.

Sihtric’s kiss was full of warmth and necessity, feeling as his hands roughly pressed me onto his body. So I gave in.

[hereforreadandwrite]

Fanfiction Masterlist :

Assassin's Creed Valhalla:

Ivarr The Boneless x Female Reader:

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

The floor, the walls, the ceiling, the furniture, everything was covered in your parents' blood. You could only watch helplessly as the macabre scene unfolded before your eyes. You weren't strong enough to be able to protect your parents. You had to live with their death on your conscience, but your brothers Sigurd and Eivor managed to ease the burden. Everything seemed to be going well until Sigurd decided to leave Norway to go to England.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Ect...

Mangle

King Rhodri decides to take revenge on Ivarr Ragnarsson by attacking the only thing he had the least bit of affection for: you.

Warning: mutilation, torture, nudity

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Ect.

charlie and the chocolate factory:

Willy Wonka x Female Reader:

Unlike your cousin Charlie Bucket, you hadn't had a chance in life. Your parents abandon you, leaving you in the hands of Mr. and Mrs. Bucket. As long as you can remember, you had to work hard to help them make ends meet. Like your cousin, you admired the famous Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, although you know that it was impossible for you to enter it. At least, that's what you thought.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Finish~

God Of War:

Kratos x Female Reader:

Abandoned

Ragnarok is over. You agreed to follow Kratos and Freya across the nine Realms, but instead of helping them in restorative quests, you will have a completely different revelation.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Finish~

Tyr x Female Reader:

You had a happy life. A loving family and a devoted husband. But every idyllic setting had a dark spot. And you were going to learn it the worst way.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Vikings:

Ragnar Lodbrok and Daughter reader:

Being the eldest daughter of Ragnar Lodbrok and Lagertha is not an easy existence. Everyone expects a lot from you. But it's even less so when you can't stand your own father and his ways.

Chapter One

kuroshitsuji:

Undertaker x Female reader:

Madness part 1

[hammyballeceter]

Hvitserk Ragnarsson

Moss & Flowers & Things

!!!-mentions swearing

Hvitserk x female reader!

“ah fuck” you exclaimed, another bowl slipped from your grasp. You had pilled them high in your arms thinking you could move them over to the long oak table that was being set up for a feast in one go.

Your farther would cook for such occasions, becoming well liked through out Kattegat for his food. Sadly that also meant you had to help out, alot.

You didn’t mind so much, you got to work on your own most of the time and you enjoyed setting up for feasts. Decorating the tables with bouquets of what ever beautiful things you foraged from the woods that day. The men never seemed to take notice but wives and small children seemed to appreciate the decorations.

It was a celebration for Hvitserk, you weren’t sure what it was for. Nor that you cared. Working with your farther meant you did a lot of occasions for the king and his sons.

As you’d finished with the head table you took a step back to admire your hard work, the long hall looked beautiful. It was bound to be ruined once everyone got a drink in them but you still remained proud of what you accomplished.

Candles flicker giving a warm inviting golden glow, wooden plates lined neatly, metal ones for the head table, drinking horns waiting to be filled waited for each guest, moss and branches woven around pillars, bouquets of long feathers carefully selected flowers and forest greenery placed around the room. It was dark, but illuminated enough to see the work you’d done.

You could of sat in there for hours.

It wasn’t feminine by any means but it did look beautiful. You hoped Hvitserk liked it, you picked things that reminded you of him. Although you didn’t know what the celebration was really for, you’d always had a soft spot for the handsome man. But then again, so did pretty much every other woman in Kattegat. You kept yourself to yourself most of the time, and hopes of ever being noticed by him diminished when you caught wind of all the women he bedded.

The door had been propped open so you hadn’t heard Hvitserk enter, he knew of you and always enjoyed seeing how you decorated the hall for special feasts. Always sneaking a look before the celebrations began. He didn’t want to admit it but he’d always try and catch a glimpse of you as well. He was expecting something good as your work always was but this time it was different, the large room had never looked so different. You’d put extra special effort in and it definitely showed. Hvitserk was taken aback, he loved seeing your creativity but he’d never seen such a beautiful place before. It was almost how he imagined Valhalla must of looked like. That’s when he caught sight of you, you’d usually be to busy or heading off to help your farther for him to speak to you, but he’d always make sure to come just early enough so he could see you as well & watch you work. This time you had seated your self on one of the seats, candles illuminating your beautiful features. He wanted to talk to you but never gained the courage to do so, he’d never seen someone as pulchritudinous as you.

“The moss and flowers and things look amazing” his mouth betrayed him, speaking for him. You jumped slightly at his voice, not hearing him enter you had thought you were alone. The many uses of the word and caused you to crack a small smile. Him following suit.

“Thank you” you nodded your head toward him. “What are you doing here so early, the feast doesn’t begin for another hour”

Hvitserk walked closer to you, motioning if he could sit next to you which of course you obliged to. Your hands were shaking, you’d never been this close to him.

“Truth be told I always come a little early to see how you decorate, even to watch you work. You always do such a wonderful job. But this time, it’s truly breath taking. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He looked around till his eyes landed on you, you wanted to hold his gaze but didn’t incase he thought you were staring.

“You watch me work? And all that time you could of been helping.” Your cheeks burned red, did he really do that? you’d never noticed him before. Maybe this man was secretly a mouse. The thought of him coming early to see your work made your heart flutter.

You comment made Hvitserk laugh, his laugh was a deep joyous sound. One you would do anything to keep on hearing.

“Maybe next time I’ll pick you up so you don’t have to struggle hanging things on the pillars”

You lightly slapped him on the shoulder, but then almost immediately regretted it.

“my apologies i forgot my place there for a moment” flustered you went to stand up but you felt his hand gently grab your arm.

“Don’t apologise, please. Sit with me. in fact sit on this stool it’s closer to me. I’d like to properly see your face.”

You sat facing him this time, and you took this opportunity to really look at him. He was rough yet unbelievably gorgeous, his slight facial hair and scars made him rugged yet his eyes and soft smile made him gentle. The man you wanted for yourself was sat infront of you, and you were desperate to reach out and touch him, to check if he was really there.

“you’re beautiful” Hvitserk couldn’t quite help himself, being able to finally get you by yourself and being so close he could hold it back. “I always look for you, you know. In crowds, when I walk around Kattegat. I always hope I’ll see you. When you started coming to set up for our feasts and celebrations that’s when I’d come find you. I’d never have the courage to speak to you. But today I had to when I saw what you had done, your work is usually amazing but this, this is next level. And I’m glad it’s for my celebration” He’d finally admitted it, it felt like a weight off of his shoulders. “Y/N you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. And it would be my pleasure to be able to have the chance to learn more about you. Your mere presence makes me feel alive. I’d wish I had the courage to approach you earlier as i would have made you my wife by now.”

Your hand was still in his when he placed it to his lips, your body refused to believe it was real. Dumbfounded you’d reached your other hand up to gently touch his cheek. And he was really there, he did really say those things to you. He flashed a smile again seeming to understand that you were trying to comprehend what was going on.

“I did all this for you, especially for you. I picked everything that reminded me of you for decoration. I’ve always admired you from afar. But never felt worthy enough to even speak to you. The type of women you bed are a lot different to me, they hold power, they’re truly beautiful. So I just continued to do my work and keep myself to myself.”

Words flowed out of your mouth, it was embarrassing but you didn’t care. His hand squeezed yours gently,

“It hurts me to hear you speak so down on yourself, you are truly beautiful, the most beautiful. As it is you I always searched for. My heart yearned for you yet I couldn’t get myself to speak to you in fear of rejection.”

He placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth, you had no objections the only one being isn’t wasn’t planted on your lips.

“Hvistark, are you sure it is me that you find so beautiful?”

He nodded, looking deep into your eyes, as if he could get lost in them. And he would happily do so. This time you took the lead needing his lips, you kissed him, he was quick to kiss back. For him he was kissing the woman he has wanted since he was a young child. You had fallen in love with each other from afar and finally were able to show that to each other.

“Come to the feast with me tonight, I want to show everyone I’ve finally got the woman I’ve longed for, and to prove my brothers wrong.”

“Prove them wrong?”

“They said I would never be able to have the guts to talk to you. They think your beautiful but all backed off because I knew one day that I’d get you. I just needed the courage. Plus I’d kill them if they touched you.”

[angelsworks]

I love your work! Especially for the last kingdom!

I was wondering if you could write about a historian that somehow got stuck in the past and to them it’s time travel but for Uhtred and everyone else they see as a gift from the gods since she knows about 9th century England. Which helps Uhtred gain what he wants.

Our Gift Uhtred x reader

Type: Headcannon

Summary: After being sent to the past, a Dane takes an interest in your knowledge

Warnings: 18+ Yandere themes

History was your passion.

Specifically the time period you now found yourself in.

When you woke up in a small hamlet you recognised your surroundings; the home design, the clothes people wore, the way people spoke and acted.

You were in the medieval age. One you’d spent years studying.

At first the people in the hamlet thought it odd that a stranger had somehow appeared. Your knowledge of the time meant that you were able to blend in quickly.

You planned to continue your research of the medieval period in the quiet of the hamlet. Offering knowledge from your own time to help the people around you.

Your plans changed when a Uhtred and his men moved through the town. They stayed at a local inn as they made plans to attack a local fortress.

While they drank in the tavern you watched them quietly. Uhtred was one of the men you’d studied. So you knew a lot of his battles and defeats, his highs and lows and his inevitable downfall.

You knew that the attack on the fortress would fail miserably, with casualties of some of his closest men.

So you told him. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have. That action not only altered the course of history but started Uhtred’s obsession with you.

At first he thought it odd that a woman who looked somehow out of place with the others around him, was giving him tactical battle advice.

But as he mulled it over he saw no wrong in taking precautions. Those precautions were to take a separate group of men and exact your advice.

After all he’d seen he shouldn’t have been shocked that what you said would happen, happened.

After celebrating with his men he returned to that same village. Ready to find you and see if you had anymore advice for him.

Yet he didn’t find you there.

In the time he’d left you had realised the possible consequences of your actions.

When Uhtred - granted he was still alive - realised you were right you had no idea how he would react.

The history books didn’t record Uhtred exact personality or how he reacted when women knew things they weren’t supposed to.

It did make you think of what happened to women who could supposedly see the future. They were treated as witches and burned at the stake.

Not a future you desired. So you fled. On to the next hamlet or village you could reach by foot.

You did your best to stay unnoticed in your new home. Helping others occasionally and continuing your research quietly.

You heard from some associates a sick woman was in need of your help. Current healers had apparently drawn a blank with her case. She wondered if you could help.

When you arrived to the small hut on the outskirts of the village you were surprised to find it near abandoned.

You imagined the woman was extremely ill and weak. Any upkeep of her home had been long forgotten. A sight that was sad to see.

When you knocked you had no reply, so you let yourself in.

There you were grabbed from behind and the once dark room was lit to reveal Uhtred and his men. Having been concealed in the dark as they waited for you.

“I have followed you far Seer. You hide well.” Uhtred states. His demeanour remains unchanged, hidden from your eyes.

You say nothing. Outnumbered and unsure of the intentions of the men around you.

“I know now what you say is true. You are too valuable for me to leave behind. So I offer you now to travel with me, help me to conquer.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief, telling Uhtred that one good piece of advice doesn’t mean you’ll be able to give him anymore.

“It’s a risk I cannot take. Pack up your things we ride tonight.”

It was hard to argue with the intimidating Dane sat before you, or his three friends that surrounded him. So you didn’t.

From then on you were practically forced to travel with the men. You rode for many days, learning little about them as you made your way to Uhtred’s home.

When you got there you met with a woman named Brida.

After some questionable rituals and candle lighting she had concluded you were a seer. You saw the future or glimpses of it.

She told Uhtred that you would be extremely valuable to him.

From then on any freedom you had was taken.

You were no longer able to walk the village on your own. Either Sihtric or Finann had to accompany you. They weren’t awful company but when you wanted to be alone it became annoying.

Uhtred’s interest in you only grew. Whenever he could you’d be sat near him, stood near him, riding on his horse with him.

It wasn’t long before Uhtred was convinced you would make a good wife for him.

With no one around him to tell him no, his desires were unchecked, let to run wild.

During Uhtred’s battles he keeps you close. Always consulting you on his plans and viewing your opinion with high regard.

Your knowledge of both history and a range of battles gives you a plethora of strategic plans and possible tactics of war.

Uhtred knows what an asset you are to him. He knows how much he can conquer with you by his side. He won’t ever let you go.

[its-monster-mash]

This has been sitting in my drafts for 1000 years oops Rules: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

Thank you so much for tagging me @venus-haze!! I am also excited to participate in the self-callout lol

I don’t actually have a “WIP Folder”, I just have. A lot of WIPs. About to expose myself on a lot of different fandoms lol(I have a million different sideblogs that I organize a lot of the things I like by)

• Didn’t Your Momma Ever Tell You Not to Talk to Strangers? — Bo Sinclair x Reader (House of Wax) *I am also converting this one to an "Original" piece so I can publish it as a serial, so if you see the other version on Amazon under the pen name "M.E. Roselli" that's me. I'm still going to keep writing it as this fanfic, but there IS an alternate version. The other version is about a cult instead of Wax; instead of Vincent, Bo("Buck" in the alternate version) has a twin sister who was raised to be the cult's messiah. The cult is dead and gone along with their parents, but she's still living it. I just know that a lot of people's fanfics are being stolen, so I wanted to clear up that that is NOT the case with mine.

• Holmes and Dracula VS. Jack the Ripper — Original Work (Sherlock Holmes and Dracula team up to stop Jack the Ripper from bringing about the Apocalypse)

• Tides of Lust — Original Work (Meliora, a traveling bard with demonic blood, goes on a pirate adventure with a feared disciple of Davy Jones and also meets a Vampiric Warlord)

• What The Dead Men Say — Original Work (Ivar Ragnarsson ends up in Victorian England, where he has little choice but to team up with an archeologist; was technically an ACV fic originally, but I hate the ISU stuff and refuse to include it so really it’s just a history fic tbh)

• Playing House with Private X — Original Work (A cryogenically frozen super soldier navigates the modern world with the help of a would-be super soldier who slipped through the cracks. Very slice of life; it started as a Soldier Boy fic—American Pie, but I scrubbed it of IP so I can continue it as an original work and publish it as erotic shorts)

• ‘Til Death Do Us Part — Original Work (Would-be Murder victim Judith “Jude” Carpenter tries to start a new life in a small town…where her would have been killer has taken up residence as the priest. The two must work together to survive the town’s dark secret.)

• Careful What you Wish For — Original Work (Janie, a serial killer hitchhiking to avoid capture, ends up being held prisoner by Levi, a recluse out in the middle of nowhere, and she pretends to be a helpless victim in exchange for food and a warm place to sleep. The story focuses on her disturbing inner monologue through her act.)

• Lord of Roses, Master of Thorns — Original Work (Ancient Vampiric King Alistair Val Mirron must fall in love to end his curse of immortality; Myrinthe, an odd Peasant introduced to him by and old flame, seeks to remain in the castle at all costs to avoid being forced to marry the annoying rich boy in town.)

• Taken From the Ren Faire — Original Work (This was meant to be a cheesy erotica short but I accidentally gave it a plot. Oops. Fantasy Author Vera Fox is spirited away into a fantasy world after drinking some strange mead from an interesting new vendor. She ends up in a fake relationship with a former bandit while he tries to help get her home; when they get separated, she questions if she even wants to go back to her old life, and this is only compounded when she finds her Ren Faire lover is trapped there too. This one is full of tropes because I'll be honest, I'm "Writing to Market" here, but I love the characters anyway. Owen-her Ren Faire lover- has a huge Clydesdale named Stormbreaker that he rescued from a roadside medieval themed attraction, and I love him.)

• A Marriage of Inconvenience — Homelander x Reader (The Boys; Amazon Show)

• Woven Sagas — Eivor Wolfkissed x Ivar Ragnarsson (Assassin’s Creed Valhalla)

• Mother — Skyrim Fic about my Dragonborn raising Aventus

• Critical Darling — Homelander x OC(Darcy Hayes, Dreamweaver) (The Boys; Amazon Show)

• In All My Dreams I Drown — Reaver x Sparrow (Fable 2)

Tags: I am abysmal at remembering URLs off the top of my head, but I will try. @sketchy-rosewitch @visceravalentines @rottent33th @ventiswampwater

[drvgs-and-d3vilworship]

VALRAVNSDOTTIR

Chapter 3

Synopsis;

The young of the forgotten God of illusion, Valravn, craves the Midgardian Ivar the Boneless. Valravn, beings the doting father, allows his daughter to chase after he she desires most and she plans to take what she wishes to have by any means nessicary.

( gif credits; @underragingwaves​ )

Warnings: Lil steamy. Mentions of blood. Mentions of nudity. I believe that’s it. 

Words: 1,496

Pairings: Ivar the Boneless x Reader

(Goddess!reader) (Female!reader) (Valravnsdottir!reader) (Dark!reader)

(A/N: Future chapters will get darker as they come and will contain topics that many may not wish to read about. Please bare this in mind when starting this series.)

< Chapter 2      Chapter 4 >      Series Masterlist

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“Who are you?”

His voice was even more beautiful in his presence. It had always sent shivers down your spine when you were stuck in another realm beside your father but in person, every nerve in your system lit up with electricity.

You withdrew your hand back from his face and tenderly placed both palms against his chest, the flesh under your touch raised the tiny hairs on your arms and at the back of your neck.

Trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, you smiled slightly at the feeling of him beneath you before your face fell into an upset scowl, brows furrowing.

“You know who I am,” you mumbled quietly, almost disappointedly.

His face expressed his confusion, and it broke your heart a little further. He shook his head and the blade that he grasped underneath his pillow became slack and remained in its place as he lifted himself up on to his elbows. “Tell me who you are.”

“I am Y/N Valravnsdottir, Goddess of misfortune, daughter of Valravn, the God of illusion.” You sit upon his lap with your chest puffed out and head risen proudly as you speak of both your own and father’s titles.

His brows furrow at your declaration. “I have never heard of such a God, nor Goddess.”

Your face hardens slightly and Ivar hisses as your nails dig ever so slightly into the flesh of his chest. “That is because Odin is an old fool who washed away our existence into a realm unknown beside Helheim; near to none utter our names any longer.”

Inhaling deeply, you calm yourself and allow a sweet smile to spread across your face. “But that’ll change now though, won’t it skatten min?” (My treasure.)

Ivar pulled a face akin to a snarl. “How do I know that you’re not some deluded Christian who speaks ill of the Allfather, who’s determination taught them our language?”

You chuckle darkly. “Du våger å anklage meg om en slik forferdelig ting? Min kjærlighet, hvordan kunne du ikke stole på meg?” Your nails continue to dig deeper into his flesh, blood slowly being drawn from his skin. (You dare accuse me of such a slanderous thing? My love, how could you not trust me?)

“If my father were here, he’d peck the heart from your chest and eat it whole.” Your fingers relented, your nails slowly pulling from within his flesh, a mess of blood following and coating the nails on your hands, sharp as talons.

His eyes are wide as he lowers his gaze to look down to his chest, red slowly oozing from the crescent moon shapes, then trail back up to your eyes. The look in his eyes is so similar to fear but no, that’s not your Ivar. Your Ivar the Boneless fears nought.

He follows you with his eyes as you lean forward, laying your tongue flat against the bleeding marks on his chest, swiping your tongue slowly, sensually, along his flesh, cleaning up the small wounds with kitten licks, red painting your tongue.

As you moan at the taste of him, the coppery scent wafting up into your nose, he grows underneath the covers between your legs and a lusty haze falls over his eyes as he watches. Ivar still feels confused and conflicted, but he could never deny the beauty you held or the effect you had over him. Maybe you spoke the truth and were truly a Goddess.

You lean up to settle yourself on his lap once more, perching as you swipe a delicate finger across the blood still weeping from his chest. You lock eyes with the cripple king below you as you bring your finger to your lips, your tongue peeking out to taste the crimson coating before sucking your finger into your warm and wet mouth, moaning.

You’re not oblivious to the excitement he feels, the proof painfully evident between your legs and you smile deviously.

“La meg bevise for deg min kjærlighet og hengivenhet, King Ivar den benløse, slakter of Sachs.” You push back the curtain of feathers that makes up your cloak and allow it to fall off of your shoulders, exposing you completely. “Min hensynsløse konge.” (Let me prove to you my love and devotion, king Ivar the Boneless, slayer of Saxons.) (My ruthless king.)

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Ivar’s breath hitched as she bared herself to him. The cloak had fallen from her body with such grace, and he continued to look up at her in awe. Nothing ever has or ever will compare to all that is her. She could make every man bend at the knee and hand over his will, his power, all with a simple gaze.

She was the thing that weakened men and his mind, fuzzy and abuzz, lighting up with such unadulterated lust and passion, was pushing him to be but a simple fool for her too. Just like those men he imagined would worship the ground she walks on; he too would bend himself over to kiss at her feet.

Ivar had been right, the line of kohl did pass between her breasts, down the middle of her sternum to suddenly stop. Goosebumps aligned her skin; her nipples pebbled the second the cool air surrounding the two hit them.

His eyes travelled across the entire expanse of her body, and he finally gave in to that growing urge.

He slowly raised his hand, his movements so timid, and he gazed into her eyes, looking for any sign that he shouldn’t continue. But her eyes, those eyes he had awoken to, they stared into his own with heat, with adoration, with love and devotion. If his mind wasn’t so consumed at that moment, he surely would’ve asked why she looked at him in such a way, why she spoke of him like a lover would.

Ivar’s fingers finally made contact with her soft and supple skin, the lightest of touches as he danced his fingertips along her ribs, along the valley of her tits, around the full and heavy breasts. She had preened and mewled and arched into his touch, her eyes flutter close as she relished in his gently caress.

She slowly rocked her hips down against his covered cock and he sucked in a breath, his hands falling to her hips to grasp on tightly and still her for only a moment. Her eyes reopened to stare down at him, her hips still impatiently trying to move against him as she watches him with wide eyes, almost innocent like; almost.

Ivar lost sight of where he was, what was happening, only for her to remain, perched on his lap. The image of her leaning forward ever so slowly, bare chest touching hers with each inch she comes closer and closer, awoke him from yet another daze, the soft puffs of air that pass her lips and blow against his own enticing him further.

His eyes wander down to her lips, to her eyes and back again; a repeated motion that finally comes to a halt when a sweet kiss is pressed to his lips.

They’re soft and pillowy and eagerly pressed against his own and any and all inhibitions he may have had against this had all turned to ash.

It wasn’t long before he allowed her to push past with her tongue and swirl it against his own, something that Ivar was more than happy to reciprocate.

When she had pulled back, he chased after her intoxication touch like a hungry babe in search of a tit to drink from. He was almost disappointed until she began to kiss along his jaw, down along his neck and across the stretch of skin on his chest.

Her hot, open-mouthed kisses continued to trail downwards, her body moving along with her touch to ever so cautiously settle between his legs, the blanket now being pushed from off of his hips to down below where his shins rested.

Ivar couldn’t remove his eyes from the scene, watching with lust-filled, hooded eyes as she took a hold of his cock in her hand lightly began to kitten lick and kiss up his entire length.

She peered up at him and moaned as the first few drops of his precum hit her tongue and she felt him twitch in her hand.

With no push from Ivar, she took the tip in her mouth and began to suckle, swirling her tongue around the head as she slowly stroked at his shaft with a loose grip. His head fell back against the pillow below him, and he allowed his eyes to close as his bodies’ desires, needs, wants all overtook him.

From that moment onward, a long night of the Goddess worshipping the simple Midgardian king ensued. Ivar would be sure that it had all been that of a dream if not for the bare woman gazing at him so peacefully in the morning wrapped in his arms had not been there.

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Dark shit coming soon

If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

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VALRAVNSDOTTIR taglist;

@draculasbride-blog​ 

[waiting4inspiration]

Holding onto a Dream (Dark!Ubbe x Reader)

Summary: Ubbe wants you to carry his seed. You want to live in solidarity. Only one of you can have their way and slaves never get what they want which means you can only dream a hopeless dream.

Warnings: forced pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, implies smut, strong language, slave!reader, dark!ubbe, implied noncon

Word Count: 1,531

Requested by anonymous:

You've been told by many men that you're beautiful, that you look like a goddess. That you're the woman they would like to see grow big with their child. Of course, you never had a choice when it came to Ubbe Ragnarsson.

He chose you as his slave when you came in with the other thralls at the market in Kattegat, but he wasn't going to use you to clean up and serve food. No, he intended to breed you so that his seed would carry on strong.

"It's a wonderful thing being a mother. Having the gift to bring life into the world is like a miracle from the Gods. And I know a lot of women will be jealous of you having the opportunity to bring this child into the world. You should be happy to be here," Aslaug told you when Ubbe announced your pregnancy.

But you're not happy to be here. You didn't want to be a mother. You planned on being a shieldmaiden when you were a child. Fighting in the Shield Wall seemed to be like a dream to you and it's what you held onto when you were taken as a slave.

After meeting Ubbe and being in Kattegat, your dreams and plans changed. You long to just be alone. You want to live in a cabin in the woods, by yourself where you can do whatever you want and invite in whoever you want and kill whoever you don't want to be near you. Being alone is the dream you cling onto, one that you know will never happen now that there is a child growing in your stomach.

Obviously, your unhappiness doesn't go unnoticed by the father of your child. He's kept quiet through the months, thinking that in time you'd get that glow of pregnancy and you'd soon feel that happiness of becoming a mother.

But now that you're about to give birth any day now, he's getting irritated with your constant melancholy.

"You are not happy," he states with a monotone voice as he walks into the room, making your head snap over your shoulder to look back at him.

You watch him place his weapon down at the door of the room, something you always make sure he does before you talk to him because you can never be sure what he'll do next to you and you're not sure if carrying his child will be enough to stop him from killing you. Though, sometimes you think that's not a bad idea.

"How can I be when I wanted none of this?" you mutter, taking your hand off of the large, round burden you carry.

"And what did you want? To live out in the woods like an outcast?"

"If it meant I'd be unbothered by you and everyone else in your fucking family then yes," you hiss, snapping around to face him with a hateful glare in your eyes.

Ubbe smirks at you, thinking how feisty you have become since being with his child. You would never talk like this to him before, but now it's a nice change. It makes the fight all the more fun.

Your glare dies when he starts walking towards you, your heart skipping a beat as your mind raced with thoughts of what he could do next. Would he beat you? Would he lay his hands on you while carrying his child or is he going to wait until you give birth and then 'discipline' you for all the things you had done wrong during your pregnancy? Or are his words going to be a knife to cut you now?

"Why do you wish to hurt my heart, (Y/n)? After everything I have done for you?" he whispers, placing his hand over his heart as he comes to stand in front of you.

You tell yourself to not feel guilty, that these are words to make you feel that way. You won't let him. "You have done nothing for me-"

"I have spared you from a life of burden. Would you rather work 'til your hands bleed everyday and you cannot stand because your feet are blistered?'' he asks, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You try to pull your hand away from him, but it just follows you. "I have given you the mercy all thralls wish for. You won't have to work as they do. All you have to do is be a mother to the children I give you."

You swallow roughly and bite the inside of your cheek when you feel him rest his hand on the swell of your stomach. "Then why don't you free me so that your children don't come from a slave?"

Ubbe laughs, drops his eyes to your stomach, and swipes his thumb over the material covering the home of his heir. Any day now and he will hold what he hopes is his son in his arms. "You would have too much freedom then. I fear that if I free you, you will leave for the pathetic dream to live alone in the woods. And I cannot have that," he says, leaning down to try and place a kiss on your lips.

But you turn your head, making his lips land on your cheek. "I promised the Gods when I saw you that I would never let you go and I would keep you as mine until one of us stops breathing. I intend to keep my promise to them," he whispers in your ear, his voice making a shiver run up your spine and a shaky breath leave your lips.

"What makes you think the Gods care about your dreams?"

"What makes you think they care about yours?" he asks back, stepping away from you with a coy smile on his face. "They would have done something to save you by now if they cared. But here you are and here you will stay."

You were told so many times how your motherly instincts will kick in the moment you hold your baby but all you could do was cry. Everyone thought that they were tears of joy. None of them knew that you were crying because you knew that your dream is now too far out of reach.

You waited for that feeling of motherly nurture to fill you, but every time you look at the son you birthed you couldn't help but feel hatred for what they represent to you. It made Ubbe happy to have a son, but you know that soon he will ask for another.

No, we won't ask. He will force another on you.

Hearing Ubbe walking into the room, you don't bother turning your head to acknowledge him because you know he's only here for one thing. "Your son is with your mother," you bluntly say, staring at the wall in front of you as you pull the pelt of fur tighter around you.

"I know. I asked her to keep him for the night," Ubbe says.

You can hear him taking his clothes off, your eyes closing in dread as a sob catches in your throat. You had only finished bleeding a few days ago and the healers have said that you are able to carry another child. It was only a matter of time before Ubbe made that happen.

He walks over to you, around the bed, and stands right in front of you. Lifting your head up by placing two fingers under your chin, you open your eyes to look at him, and a tear slips out to roll down your cheek.

You don't want to fight anymore. You can't bring yourself to fight. You can't find the strength to push away the numb feeling inside you to fight Ubbe about this.

And he notices this.

"Don't worry, (Y/n)," he soothes, wiping the tear off your cheek while caressing your cheek. "Your fire will come back once you're carrying my child again."

He pushes the pelt of fur off your shoulder, smiling to himself when he finds that you're already naked. Probably because you didn't bother getting dressed after taking a bath.

"I want a daughter," he whispers, making you lie down on the fur that had wrapped your body like a gift to him.

"Fine," you mutter, turning your head to the side as he crawls over you, kissing his way down your neck, over your chest, and across your body.

All you can do is close your eyes and think about your cabin in the woods, the peace you would have as a free woman, the life you would have without being treated like a breeding bitch.

Perhaps you would take the daughter Ubbe wants with you to save her from the way she would be treated. You have a feeling that she won't have the same respect a legitimate daughter of Ubbe Ragnarsson would have. She would be known as your daughter first and foremost. The daughter of a whore. No woman deserves that.

But that's all a dream now. A pathetic, lost dream that will never see the light of day.

Did you enjoy this? Like my work? Support me and buy me a Ko-fi HERE!

[mystic-shadows42]

The Last Kingdom Men: Possession/Obsession!Dark

A/N: Here’s a little drabble of The Last Kingdom men. Imagine they’re dark rulers who you’re their most prized possession. I don’t in any way condone the actions here. This is a story and all the necessary warnings are listed below.

Warnings: Blackmail, blood, crude behavior, dark thoughts, dark actions, death, emotional abuse, graphic details, impregnation, insinuated sexual actions/relations, kidnap, language, sadness, somnophilia, and smut

Uhtred the Godless. 

He wasn’t simply given a name for nothing. He was feared for good reason. You had seen it firsthand and never wanted to be at the end of his wrath but the gods had a funny way of twisting fate.

Uhtred’s blade was pressed to your brother’s throat as blood trickled down onto the sword. You broke through the crowd standing so he could see you.

“My lord, Uhtred, please. Spare my brother.”

His eyes were cold and calculating as he took you in. Uhtred had been trying to have you for quite some time and this was a perfect opportunity to take advantage of the situation.

“Your brother is a thief so he must pay with his life.” He pressed his blade further emitting a pained grown from your brother.

“Let me take his place!”

“No,” your brother groaned out. He had been severely beaten before you arrived. It pained you to see him this way.

“You would give your life for your brother?” He had asked it in a way as if he didn’t understand.

“Yes, I would. I will.”

“Would you give your body?”

You shuddered at the way he lowered his voice and stared at you hungrily. He removed his sword from your brother’s neck as he walked to stand right in front of you. His presence being so close made you lose your voice.

“I need an answer little one.”

“Yes,” you all but squealed out. That one answer was all it took before he reached out pressing your body to his.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?” He traced the outside of your lips while licking his own. “I remember those lips wrapped around my cock.”

Whenever Uhtred was frustrated he’d find you, grab your hand, and settle you onto your knees. He spoke of it as you servicing your king.

He had a growing need that no woman seemed to quench. If he was especially desperate to get off he’d sneak into your room and pump his cock while watching you sleep.

He’d dump his cum on your breasts and face. It had scared you beyond anything else to awaken to the sticky substance in the morning. 

Then one day, he got desperate parting your lips with his length.

When you had your mouth open he’d ease himself in. Whenever you awoke and tried scooting away he’d threaten you with his title. You didn’t want to be cast out and be in worse circumstances as of now so you’d go with it.

Who would’ve thought that this handsome man could strike such a fear? 

He confused you beyond anything. He’d have regret written on his face and eyes. He’d gift you rare treasures and whisper sweet words but then he’d do this to you.

“You will be my woman. Swear it to the gods.”

You brought his hand up towards the sword he carried. You cut the palm on your hand wincing at the burn before bringing it up to him.

“I swear it.”

He took your hand and brought it to his mouth drinking your blood in while he continued to stare at you intensely.

“My witch Skade is binding us as we speak. You can never leave. Never part, even in death. Your ever-growing need can only be fulfilled by me.” You looked past him and saw his witch humming incoherent words with her eyes rolled back. 

You clenched your legs together feeling excited at the thought of being his. Your breath started to come out in uneven pants as you started feeling the effects of Skade’s magic.

With the blood still smeared on his face, he bent down and picked you up over his shoulder carrying you to his chambers.

He slapped your ass and growled in satisfaction for what this night will bring.

“What troubles you?”

“Men,” he replied gruffly while looking down at his hands. He had been gone longer than usual and was quiet coming back in.

“Men are often the problem. They seem to have no sense of self-control.” You waited for him to speak but he said nothing in return. Living with Finan was something you grew accustomed to since he took you from your home.

He was passive-aggressive and used sarcasm as his weapon of choice. There was never a time he raised his voice to you but would show his displeasure through his actions.

If he was angry he’d want to fuck it away, all throughout the night until he was sated. Through all the ups and downs, you grew to love him. You liked his kind side but the dark one was starting to appeal to you. It was a scary thought to think.

Finan stood up and opened the door, glancing over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

His tone left no room for argument as he departed just as quickly as he said it. His footsteps were loud and echoed off of the walls. Not a person was in sight which began to rack your nerves.

The fire from the torches was your only light source leading you outside. When Finan finally stopped his eyes were set on something in the distance. You took in his posture.

He was rigid. His jaw was clenched. His muscles were flexed with his veins prominent against the skin. You trailed your eyes down his body then saw blood dripping from his hands.

Immediately you went to his side and inspected it.

“Are you hurt?”

“It’s not my blood.”

At that, you stopped and looked at him. Just by the look in his eye, you knew he’d done something awful.

“What did you do Finan?”

He stood behind you and pointed in the distance to where his attention was earlier. You braced yourself as your eyes followed where he pointed. You gasped and covered your mouth looking away.

“All of this is for you, my love.”

“I never asked for this.”

“These men did not deserve to live. They serve you and me, yet they had the audacity to speak of you in a manner that I did not care for. So I killed them and had them hanged from the walls.”

He spoke of their death so nonchalantly that it scared you. These men had missing body parts and were hanged upside down drained of blood.

Finan started kissing down your neck then his hands greedily felt up your body smearing the blood over your dress. He pulled back and cupped your face and dragged his hand back down to your dress.

He impatiently ripped your dress down exposing your nipples to the cold air.

“Finan!”

“Don’t worry my love. I had everyone go inside for the night.”

One thing you learned about Finan is that he got incredibly horny at the sight of death. It didn’t matter if there was a body just a few feet away. He wanted you either on your back with your legs over his shoulders or your ass pressed to his hips as he gripped you impossibly tight.

He had you on your back between the pillar and his body.

“Finan this is wrong.” You pressed your hand to his chest. He stopped and looked down at you. Your dress was tossed aside and his trousers were down to his ankles. His chest heaved trying to recover from his impulsive actions.

“Just the tip then.” he grabbed his cock and brushed it over your folds.

“Finan, we cannot. It is wrong.”

“They were vulgar with their words. They wanted you.” His eyes were growing dark as he spoke of the dead men. “I hope their spirits haven’t gone yet. I want them to watch.”

Finan probed your entrance and entered just the tip. You so badly wanted to hit him but your body loved it. In the back of your mind, you knew you were just as messed up as he was.

Living with him for years had done that to you. Finan wrapped your hair in his hand and pulled it back at the same time he sheathed himself fully in you.

He continued with his erratic thrusts wanting to emit the pleasured screams from you. He wanted everyone to know you were his. 

This was also a reminder that you would never find someone to please you as he does.

“Where is she?!” Sihtric growled walking out of his tent and onto the campsite filled with his followers and warriors. When he awoke alone and naked within the furs of the bed he thought you tried escaping again.

His eyes frantically searched the landscape until they landed on your figure along with two other women and one guard. You had a smile on your face, one that you hardly shared with him since he started becoming extremely possessive.

Sihtric couldn’t keep his eyes off of your glowing face. “Have the guard killed at nightfall. I want the women gathered in secrecy. I wanna know what has my wife smiling today.”

Sihtric’s right-hand man nodded in understanding.

“Are the women to be killed afterward?”

Once you felt his gaze, you looked up. You ushered the women away and walked slowly to Sihtric who met you halfway.

Sihtric brushed his right-hand man away. The womens lives will depend on his mood later.

“Don’t hurt them. I was the one who asked them to join me. We were picking berries together.”

Sihtric sighed.

“I don’t know what I’d do if something ever happened to you,” he spoke softly brushing your hair back. “Someone must answer for your absence.”

“I will,” you spoke quickly.

“I could never hurt you.” He licked his lips when he saw you try to lower your gaze. He lifted your head up so that you looked only at him. “You had me worried, but I knew you’d stay for good reason.”

He placed his hand on your growing stomach where your child grew. Sihtric was still possessive as he was before but his touch was gentler. Nothing made him happier than having a piece of him growing inside of you.

For months he wondered why you weren’t taking to his seed. He would pump you full of his cum. He would even have you lay down, sometimes even walk around while his hot essence dripped down your thigh.

You had never seen him so angry when he found out a healer had been supplying you an herb to prevent you from getting pregnant. Not once did he take his anger out on you. Sihtric always had them killed.

When you argued with him he’d deflect your accusations, saying he didn’t kill them but you knew he gave the order. He wanted to possess every part of you. Your mind and body first and foremost.

“Sihtric,” you didn’t know why you spoke his name but you did it out of habit. He always looked into your eyes at the mention of his name leaving your lips.

His stare was never one that saw the surface of things. No, one of Sihtric’s looks saw beyond the color of your eyes. He could sense what you were feeling-thinking. He knew it all.

“Never run from me. Never hide. I will always find you wherever you go.”

He brushed his mouth on the outside of your ear.

“Tell me you love me,” his hot breath ghosted over your neck as he inhaled your scent. When you didn’t say anything back he tugged on your hair. “Tell me.”

“Sihtric, please. You’re hurting me.” His hold on your hair dissipated. 

“I’m sorry. I just love you so much.”

“If you truly love me then let me go.”

“I can’t. I tried to, remember? I let you go back to your family and they allowed you to get hurt.”

“We were raided. It wasn’t their fault. No one could have predicted an attack coming.”

His eyes grew wide as he thought back on that day.

“But who saved you and your family? I did. I couldn’t restrain myself. I had to have you near me. I knew, I just knew something would happen if I wasn’t with you. We are bonded for life.”

A tear escaped your eye thinking of how you got here. Sihtric was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was the sweetest man catering to your every need. The signs should’ve been obvious. People who spoke of you harshly were never seen again, rude remarks of those suddenly were nice, and people would let you do what you wanted without judgment.

“Shh shh shh,” he shushed. “Don’t cry. I don’t like seeing you cry.” He wiped away your tears kissing where each one was at.

“You’re the best things that’s ever happened to me. My greatest treasure,” he smiled as you then slowly leaned up capturing his lips with yours.

He smiled in victory then kissed the top of your head and intertwined his hand with yours.