#honestsycrets: little lovers

[bonniebird]

Pick any five OTPs and choose just one song you associate with each. Send to/tag five people and keep it going!

Tagged by @ariesbilly 💖

Stuilly: Sharks - Imagines Dragons

Malydira: Black Sheep - The Evil Exes

Joey x Rachel: All these things that I have done - The Killers

Semperance: Sea of Lovers - Christina Perri

Harringrove: Cry Little Sister - Gerard McMann / Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby - Cigarettes after sex

Tagging: @joeynihil, @honestsycrets, @justfangstvdto, @raewritesfiction, @alwaysadreamingoptimist

[honestsycrets]

No, No, A Thousand Times No!

❛ pairing | ivar x plus sized!reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ request | may I please request a best friend ivar x plus size reader where when he becomes king he wants her to be his queen but she says no claiming she is to fat and ugly to be his queen but he shows her how wrong she is to him with a smutty night

❛ summary | ivar comes to speak with reader-chan’s father. she thinks its for her sisters. maybe not.

❛  warnings | verbal arguments.

❛ sy’s notes | i have so many smutty requests that i’m basically letting these things guide themselves.

“Can I offer you Frida?”

“I have no interest in Frida. If I came for Frida, I would have asked for Frida.”

Shh, say your sisters. They stand in a line of bumbling giggles arguing among one another of who King Ivar, your stupid best friend, had come for. Frida’s lips were pursed, pushing away from the dividing curtain with great insult as if someone had shat in her porridge. Your grip tightens around the smooth broom, flicking up the dust your brothers kicked in. They’re all lined up in a circle. All three of them, laughing among one another, then at Frida who had been alive with hope.

“Did you actually think Ivar would come for you, stick girl?” Your brother Rune says, his grey eyes glittery and alive, like a waging storm behind the black hair that fell loosely around his broad shoulders. He wags a ringed finger at Frida, whose slender pencil-like frame puffs up like an angry frog, storming past.

“That ol’fool is coming for (Y/N), mark my words.”

“Shut up, Rune.” You throw over to him, smacking his boots with your broom. “I know Ivar. I’ve known him my whole life. Now move your feet. You’re always in the way! Ugh, they’re muddy!”

“I don’t think you dooo,” chides blond-haired Bo. Sune laughs along with him. Rune throws his feet up, and there’s a great gasp from behind you. Your sisters disperse to their tasks. One batting the laundry, another putting away bread in a chest with hurried need. You stand upright when your father raises the curtain apart, leaving room for Ivar to come in.

“Look who is back!” Rune throws his hands up, ale sloshing over Sune. Sune flicks his hands up, hissing: Seriously, Rune? “You came to steal my sister, I’ve heard you.”

“Steal?” Ivar prompts, stomping his crutch closer. “It doesn’t qualify as stealing if you’re paid.”  

“How much are you talking?”

Your father swats Rune, annoyance riding your eyes, and glance off to your best friend. “He’s in some delusion that you’ve come to ask for my hand instead of Signe’s.”

“I have.”

And your brothers try not to haul off in their laughter, but by their rolling giggles, rising chests, they fail. Ivar lits a fuse that connects to each brother, roaring in crass laughter at you, more than Ivar. We told you, we told you!

“No, no, no.”

“Out,” your father gestures his children. Though Bo and Rune complain-- why do we have to go outside? They filter out altogether, leaving your fists balled up on your hips. You wipe grime with your dress, flicking it down in irritation. Then, setting up your broom, you start to clean the bowls of dinner that sit abandoned.

“That joke was in shit taste,” you tell him. Clack after clack he follows you through the longhouse, keeping up with your storming steps. It’s all a mess. “Who did you ask for? Estrid? Signe?”

“What is it about this that is so unbelievable? I told you what I came for.”

You’re unfocused, slinging out words and spit and the dishes like you want them to be fake and untrue. He doesn’t understand why-- he twists his jaw one against another, rocking with his thoughts until he’s blockading you from moving by dropping his crutch. Your attention centers on him, his heady words and certain eyes and he’s never been uncertain of anything. Please stop, you want to beg, but your pride stands in the way of saying just that.

“Look at me,” you look down to your thick hands, slipping them over your full midsection. Your voice is dampened by irritation, but not by his own actions, yours. Ivar is the image of a Viking in his spirit. His hands are calloused and split, a trophy. “I’m not made to be a queen. No, no no, no no. Pick someone else.”

“And? Do I look like I was meant to rule?” He tells you, neutral and soft, with a hint of self-deprecation. “My father--”

“Ivar. You have to pick someone else.” You think back, chewing on your lip, ignoring the fact that he’s grasping your shoulder, shaking you to cognition. Please. He curls his hand under your chin, thumb rubbing one sole circle. It’s soft. Not what you want. You want him to go, choose someone else, someone who wouldn’t be laughed at by rival kings. Even if Kattegat got used to your shape, your size, your image-- You could hear the underhanded comments now about your weight, your chin, your belly.

“Why are you so stubborn,” Ivar rumbles. “Frida, hm?”

“She wouldn’t know how to take care of your legs.” You quickly bite back, as if it were stupid to make such a proposition, and maybe it was. Ivar’s hand falls from your shoulders, slapping the side of his tunic once, twice, then he raises his index finger up.

“Estrid.” A shake of your head.

“Signe, then.”

“God, Ivar, Signe?” you bite out, daring to shove him in his chest. Signe was a slated insult. He knows that you’re jealous of Signe’s shape, only because you could not appreciate your own. “You would starve!”

“I have thralls to cook, and clean, and do the work.” Ivar lurches out, snatching your wrist. He squeezes your wrist in one hand, shoulder in another. Commanding his feet to drag, he leans in, you baring the weight of his muscular body. “Let us see, let us see. The truth is… You would never approve of any of them,” Ivar says you’re name, and he’s leaning in, asserting his words. “Not Signe, or Estrid, or poor little Frida.”

“Maybe, but they aren’t good enough for you,” you look at him, through him almost, pleading for him not to do this again. Not to pick someone else and tear you apart again, not like Freydis. You may say pick someone else, but you’ve never meant it.

“I know. You are. That is why I’ve paid your dowry.” Ivar cleans his hands of the matter. You’re cursing him in a moment, cursing the way he leaves you standing there, crawling to his crutch and managing to stand right back up like it’s nothing. You chase him through the room, swatting at him like an angry cat.

“You can’t just buy my dowry and expect me to be okay with that. Give my father--”

“I can. And I have.” It feels sharp on his lips.

“Ivar!”

He reaches the threshold of your home when he turns, snatching the neckline of your dress, and pulls you forward to his lips in a clash of emotion. Your disapproval, his need. He leans in, slick, quick, and desperate, flicking his tongue between your lips to take your kiss. It’s not his first, not even his second, or third. But either way, the kiss feels meant for you in this moment, and your hand comes to the back of his neck, clutching his neck so tightly in fear that the moment might shatter apart. It does, but by Ivar’s volition when he pulls the doors apart, pecking your lips with one last, teasing kiss.

“See? I knew it,” he says, shoving his crutch onto the sturdy ground. He falls after it, stabbing past his guards. “The wedding will be in a week. Be ready by then.”

“Ivar ugh! I hate you!” you shout, the blood has risen to your face. Rune sweeps around, busy with looking at a fat cow Ivar has brought. No doubt part of your dowry.  “I love you, brother-in-law!”

“Rune shut the fuck up!”

You slam the doors shut. You hate your brother too.

@artxfuck @flowers-in-your-hayr @fireangel1978 @tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania​ @wish-i-was-a-mermaid​ @lif3snotouttogetyou​ @gruffle1​ @cris101071​ @gold-dragon-slayer​ @babypink224221​ @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia​ @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24​, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071​ @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl​ @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ @unacceptabletatertots​ @ivarandersen​ @stra-vage​ @tgrrose​ @cookies186​ @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim​ @msmorganforever​

[littlemoonchildbear]

I’m Losing Him – Hvitserk X OC

Author’s note: If you find something Grammarly wrong or have any advice to help me improve my writing just tell me and I’ll do my best to make it better. I would be really happy if you leave a comment saying what you think is good and/or what I could change, cause I’m not very confident with this work. If someone likes it I intend to cointinue this work and make more 1 or 2 parts. Hope someone enjoys it. 😊

Summary: Revna has always been there for Ivar, but after he became crazy, she just tried to live her life with her lover Hvitserk and had to accept that she lost her little grumpy boy and that he now was a mad king playing God. When Ivar sends Hvitserk to make an alliance with Earl Olaf, and people in Kattegat start rebelling against him, Ivar assumes he can’t trust anyone and decide to get rid of his enemies starting with the person was one so close to him.

Words: 2194

Warnings: lightly insinuations of sex

Gif’s credits: @honestsycrets​

My name is Revna. My mother was a childhood friend of Aslaug, but I never met my father because my mom always said that he wasn’t worth our attention or love so, I’ve never wasted my time thinking about him.

My mother died in one of the raids she went with the king Ragnar and many other warriors, so Aslaug welcomed me in their home and made sure that I was treated as her own daughter. The boys could even consider me a sister.

In the war between Ivar and Lagertha, I stayed beside Ivar, my little grumpy boy, it was impossible to forgive her after killing the woman I considered my second mother in a so coward away.

Although I was on Ivar’s side and understood his anger toward Lagertha, now it looked like he forgot why he wanted her dead. It was like he forgot his mother’s death and decided to play God, and that I could never accept.

So, after Ivar became obsessed and crazy, I left him and tried to ignore his existence. After so many years, Hvitserk and I finally confessed our feelings for each other and now we were living together as husband and wife, even if we didn’t make a proper ceremony. However, Hvitserk and I didn’t care if we didn’t have one, we were finally together and it was enough.

Today he came home with a very interesting little statue of a smiley fat man. He was so excited about telling me the new things he learned with the owner of that statue that I couldn’t help but fix my eyes on his happy face and listen to his philosophical words.

“Everything is One, and only the One is. Life is a bridge, build no house upon it. It’s a river, but don’t cling to its banks. You’re on a journey.” he said with his eyes set of the smiley little man.

When he realized I was quiet he turned his head to me.

“So, this weird old man told you all that?” I asked

“And many other things I’ve already forgotten.”

I couldn’t hold the light laugh that escaped my mouth. I leaned my head on one of my hands and with the other I caressed his hair, face, and started playing with his little goatee.

“Perhaps it’s all a joke.” he said looking down “Floki would have said so.”

“Many people said he was a joke as well…yet he was one of the best and wisest men I’ve ever known.”

“Well, I don’t know about a man, but I know of a very special woman that is as much wise as him… maybe even more…” he said coming closer and closer to me

“Do I know this… so special woman that dazzles your mind?” I said trying to be seductive

“I think so. She is my wife, but much more than that she is the fiercest shieldmaiden Midgard has ever known.” he kissed my forehead “The most intelligent human being around the world.” he kissed my nose “She’s like a Goddess and I still don’t understand what she saw in a mere mortal like me…” he leaned his forehead against mine closing his eyes.

“Maybe because she doesn’t see herself like nothing more than just a woman that besides being aware of your very pretty face…” I said rubbing our noses “She knows you have a great heart… maybe the best among all the man…” I raised his head making him look in my eyes “I don’t care if you’re the king of all Norway, a farmer, a warrior, or a fisherman… I don’t care about your conquests Hvitserk, I love you for who you are, I care for what is in here.” I placed my hand on his naked chest right over his heart

He looked at my hand and then raised his head again with a smile on his mouth.

“You have no idea how good you make me feel… I love you so much…”

I just smiled even wider and turned again to the little statue before he could kiss me.

“What do you think that means?”

“What?”

“What that man told you. Do you think is a journey to where?”

He just shrugged his shoulders.

“He told me I can go talk to him again. That he would enlighten me.”

I just sighed and laid my head in my hands looking at the little Buddha before I started speaking again.

“Well… you can think about it tomorrow because for tonight I thought we could start trying for a baby…” I said like I wanted nothing

He turned his head to face me quickly.

“Are you serious?” he said disbelieved

“Of course.”

He didn’t waste any second and started kissing me, but before I could deepen it and get on top of him, he stopped and moved away from my lips. He turned the Buddha to face the wall. I couldn’t help but giggle. Couldn’t exist a more perfect man than him.

“Where were we again?”

Sorry Buddha, but no sex for you.

 The next night, Hvitserk and I were in the Great Hall. It was announced that the great God and King Ivar the Boneless had something very important to say to his people… could you feel the irony in my words? No? Well, now you know my opinion about this.

Ivar was definitely hallucinating. He wasn’t the innocent boy I knew… he clearly was so afraid of losing his throne that couldn’t trust anyone, not even his own family. And I was afraid of what he was capable of doing to make sure no one stayed on his way.

When people started shouting his and Odin’s names, I decided I had seen enough.

“Let’s get out of here.” I whispered in Hvitserk’s ear and holding his arm we left the room. I couldn’t ignore the sensation of a certain gaze burning on my nape.

   In the morning, I was awakened in a peculiar way. I felt something brushing on my calf. If it happened a little time ago, I would have just kick whoever was trying to take advantage of me and pull my dagger from under my pillow to kill them. But, considering my actual situation, I knew whose lips were those. I just waited for him to come closer. I felt him crawl above me like a snake leaving more kisses while he passed every part of my body.

When he reached my shoulder, I turned my body to face him. Before he said something, I kissed him properly.

“I still can’t determine if you are relentless for me or if you are impatient to put a child on me.” I crossed my arms behind his neck putting him even closer.

“Can’t I be both?” he said smirking

“You are so a naughty boy…” I whispered near his lips

“I’m your naughty boy…” he said coming back to kiss me

“I’m afraid…” I whispered

“Of what?” his lips didn’t leave my neck

“Ivar… I’m afraid of what he is capable to do… of what he can do to you…”

“You don’t need to worry about that. We will just get out of his way and live our life.”

“I think we should leave Kattegat… before he thinks in bloody ways of getting us out of his sight.”

“I don’t think we need to get worried now, he never saw me as a threat. Everybody has seen me as a puppy that would follow my powerful brothers. Ivar and Ubbe are the real wolves.”

“For me, you are the best of them. The best son of Ragnar and the best wolf…”

I saw a big smile grow on his face before he started kissing me slowly.

“Promise you will think about it.”

“I promise, now… let your little wolf satisfy his hunger.” he said his final words focusing on his mission of putting a child on me.

   In the middle of the night, I heard something. Something scraping on the ground. Someone was in our home and by the sounds, I could imagine who it was…

However, by any doubts, I slowly took my hand under my pillow. I realized Hvitserk was aware of what was happening too. Then, faking that he would embrace me strongly, I put the dagger on his hand under the pillow and when he felt his side of the bed go down, he acted quickly aiming the dagger on the person’s neck.

As I thought, it was Ivar.

“Sorry to startle you.” he said smiling “But, I’ve been thinking about you, my dear brother.”

He spoke as I wasn’t there.

“What have you been thinking?” said Hvitserk

“I have been thinking… that you can make yourself more useful to me. It concerns me that you have no proper role here. That you live an empty and idle life. After all, you are my brother and I love you.”

I let out a mockery laugh. He stopped smiling but didn’t turn his attention to me. It was like he believed if he ignored me, he could make me disappear.

“So how could I make myself useful?”

“You could leave Kattegat. Go on a diplomatic trip to the Great Hall of King Olaf the Stout, and cement our alliance, help him prepare for our springtime attacks on York and Wessex.”

“And if I refuse? I don’t’ want to leave Kattegat.” he said it putting his hand on my covered womb.

That was the first time in the night Ivar looked at me.

“I’m afraid you cannot refuse.” he adjusted his body on the bed “I realize you two are together after all…or is this just a remembering of your younger years?” Ivar provoked but I wouldn’t take the bait, I wouldn’t lose my control.

“We are husband and wife now, King Ivar.” I said ironic “We are building our own family.” I finalized meeting Hvitserk’s hand above my womb letting a little smile escape.

“This is good Hvitserk.” he totally ignored me “Then it would be a pity if I had to burn her alive.”

In a blink of an eye, Hvitserk was with the dagger on Ivar’s neck again ready to kill him at any second.

“You wouldn’t do that, brother…” he whispered “Now, would you?”

Ivar just chuckled and scratched his forehead.

“No. No, I wouldn’t. Not if you agree to leave Kattegat first thing in the morning. Humm?”

I saw my husband turning from confident to uncertain. But I was sure of what he had to do.

“If you allow King Ivar, I’ll have a word with my husband and you’ll have your answer as soon as the sun appears on the horizon.”

   After Ivar left, I had a long argument with Hvitserk. I knew he was worried about me, about the baby that I might be carrying… but it was better that way.

“Do you think it will work? Do you think doing what he wants will keep us safe?” he asked me

“I don’t know, but I know that making him angry is not the solution.”

Hvitserk huffed and turned his gaze to the ceiling. I knew there was another thing bothering him.

“My love” I called touching his chest “I’m just showing you my opinion and one solution… it doesn’t mean you have to do it… I’m not Ubbe…” I knew how he felt about the situation between them, how Ubbe would say something and he would just follow without having a say. I wasn’t like that, I wanted to share our thoughts and together we would find the answer “I think you should go, do as Ivar requested and when you come back, we should just move from Kattegat… maybe live in the woods like Helga and Floki…”

He stayed a few more moments quiet thinking while I did random patterns with my fingers on his chest.

“I think is a good idea…” he started “But, I don’t want to leave the people of Kattegat in his power, at least not with him crazy like this…”

“So, what do you have in mind?”

“I should go talk to Olaf… but I won’t ask him to join Ivar but Bjorn and Ubbe…”

“And leave Kattegat to Lagertha?” I said furrowing my brows

“I don’t think she’s going to rule for so long, she’s getting old… and Harald wants the throne too.”

I rested my head above his heart.

“I just wanted her dead and Bjorn suffering like I did… like Ivar is doing… I feel that as time passes, I’m losing him more and more… I’m afraid I will never have my grumpy boy back…”

“Let just leave this to the Gods… do you agree with my decision?”

I turned my eyes to him.

“After all of this can we live in a cabin in the middle of the woods?”

“Of course, everything for you two…” he said embracing me even more

“Be careful Hvitserk… I need you… we do…”

“I will. You must be careful too…”

He touched my belly where was supposed to be growing our child and we tried to sleep after so much that happened.

[laketaj24]

If it's okay, Tommy Shelby going out to watch his lover (female) sing and act...or in other words, perform in a play?

Author’s Note: I liked this prompt alot! And I have accidentally been falling off Tommy and it’s not intentional! I must do better! Here’s a drabble.

Warning: Light Smut. (I’m in a smutty mood today, geez, sorry lol)

The Performance

Tommy was not sure that you should be performing, not with the trouble brewing in Birmingham, but he allowed it. Singing was your passion, and he was not one to deny anything you took seriously. He sat in the front row of the theater, the seat next to him, empty. It’s known that you would join him after your number. But you wanted everything about this night to be about him. He gave you a reason to sing really, so he deserved the best performance one could offer.

You took center stage, and Tommy’s mouth dropped as you revealed the slender line of your flesh through the pearl dress he had purchased. He leaned forward, and you started. The entire time the sultry alto notes flooded his ears, making his heart strum against his chest. You were marvelous. Marvelous to him, always.

The crowd erupts in applause, flowers rain the stage, and all you can see is Tommy. His stark blue eyes all over your body and a yearning. The yearning you had hoped would cover him. It takes a few minutes to make it through the crowd, but you do. Tommy awaits you with a grin and happiness. “Y/N, fucking wonderful, you hear me?” Arthur jaunts from behind you.

“Thank you, Arthur.” You laughed at his bolstering voice.

Tommy embraced you the way he always did in public, a draped hand over your ass and a small kiss on the cheek. But you could tell by the rubbing of circles on your back he wanted more. You tried to give him more. You took your seat next to him with your hands wrapped in his.

“Did you enjoy it, Tommy?”

“Certainly, did Mrs. Shelby.” He kissed you again and then placed his hand in your lap. The pads of his fingers rub-down the line of your dress. Tommy leans closer to you. “I can give you a performance too,  my love.” He whispered. “Only you must be quiet.”

And it takes nothing for his hand to move up your leg, sheathed by the cloth of your dress. His fingers press against the cotton of your panties, feeling the dampness that resided there. He pressed and then stroked unnoticeably. But you noticed, of course. The prod of his thick fingers pushing aside your underwear was something you could not ignore. He sneakily pushed a finger inside of you. You squeezed your legs together and hissed.

“Quiet there, love.” He laughed. He leaned over to you, and you were grateful for the dim lights of the theater. He moved undetected, pushing his fingers in and out of you without missing a beat, and you did nothing but suck the air and clench onto the railing of the seats. No one dared to say anything to Tommy. He’d fuck them up if they tried, plus you were certain no one could see the sin beneath the darkness.

“Good girl.” He whispered. The accent triggered you even more. “I cannot wait to get you outside of this place and ruin this pretty little dress.” He slid his hand from you. “But until then, have patience there are four more singers to go.”

●●●Taglist: @taytayize123 @honestsycrets @supernaturalvikingwhore @dvndelionn @queenmissfit @cltex84 @didiiscool11 @therealcalicali @readsalot73 @allaboardthereadingrailroad @vikingsbifrost @rhys108 @savismith @tephi101 @khiraeth @queenbeeta @danceyreagan @geekandbooknerd @feyrearcheron44 @sparklemichele @tiredxsurvivor @tiff-valerie @ainatirb-j @areubeingserved @brujademente @igotshinee @bubble-t-r-o-u-b-l-e  @mzcrazy2 @birminghamblinder @red-rose-21 @african-ebony-goddess

[lisinfleur]

Dirty Linen

The request:

Author’s Notes | I just couldn’t resist the joke! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Modern AU, requested by anon for 5CW7 Words | 1453 ⁑ Warnings: Cursing a lot.

"Stupid fucking automatic gods damn shit!"

You could bet the clang you listened after all those beautiful sweet words was the sound of something metallic hitting one of the laundry machines, full strength. Hard to believe, but someone was having a day worse than yours...

"Give back my clothes, you cursed piece of trash!" you heard some more sweet words and looked at the second corridor beside yours where a blue-eyed man was fighting with his machine, furious with the thing that apparently ate his clothes.

"Not wanting to remember you that song that will fucking glue in your mind for the rest of the day, but... It is easier if you 'toss a coin to your witcher', ya know?" you said, pointing the hole where he was supposed to put the coins so the machine would wash and open to give back his clean clothes; your index poking beside the hole causing his frowned face to twist looking at you with an ironic smile.

"Don't you think I've tried this tactic before trying to dismember this shit into tiny little pieces?" he answered, debauched.

And you giggled, causing his furious eyes to turn towards you.

"Look, I don't know who the fuck is you but if you came here to mock me, you can go back through the way you came!"

"Calm down," you said, raising your hands and smiling at him. "I just want to help. Sorry. It's just that's funny to see such a handsome man with a mouth so dirty."

Somehow, you got his weak spot: the "handsome" word in your sentence got him unprepared and you had the moment you wanted to calm things down for him.

"I'm Y/N," you said, offering your hand and noticing he took his out of a crutch to shake yours.

"I'm Ivar," he answered, straightening the crutches you were sure were the metallic thing he used to hit the machine before. "And this shit ate my clothes for the third cycle of washing!"

"Oh, I can see... You got the temperamental one," you said, smiling at him and touching the machine he chose, "Lemme see..."

Three or four buttons and two little punches and you got the thing on centrifugation once again - the last cycle before it would deliver his clothes dry.

"Done!" you smiled "Now you only have to wait until it ends and then I'll open it for you. This one is kinda messy and I bet the owner reprogramed it to suck some more money from our pockets. Always choose the ones from the left. They are the newest ones and will give you fewer troubles," you winked at him, listening to the sound of your machine stopping.

"I think I have time for a coffee," Ivar threw, causing you to smile.

"I have time for five if you want... There is a lot of this shit for me today," you said, kinda accepting his implicit invitation while filling the second basket of clothes of the five you had to wash.

The number of things you were washing - and of course, the presence of some obvious masculine outfits among the clothes you were picking up - tickled Ivar's curiosity and he didn't hold back his tongue.

"Family's laundry day or did you lost a bet?" he tried to be playful.

And you smiled at him. You wish it was.

"Cheating bastard," you said raising one of your ex-boyfriend's shorts. "And his naked bitch," you raised his lover's bra, showing it to Ivar before tossing everything into the washing machine for the third basket of your day.

Ivar's face frowned into a funny expression and you couldn't avoid thinking his expressivity was very captivating.

"I don't understand..." he said and you smiled.

"Bring me that coffee you promised and I'll have plenty of time to explain," you joked, touching the other two baskets you still had to wash.

Ivar nodded, smiling, and ordered two coffees for you and him at the Starbucks on the other side of the street, sitting by your side and placing his crutches beside him before sipping from his coffee, seeming to be comfortably waiting for you to start.

"Well, I made a trip to work," you started from what you thought was the beginning, "I'm a photographer and I received an amazing proposal to make some pics for a famous series. Promo material, full package. It paid me a small fortune! But the package wasn't including any companion so I would have to go alone and spend a month working before I would be able to come back."

"Uh," Ivar mumbled, fully interested.

Something you had to admit you weren't that used to seeing: your ex-boyfriend had that same expression, but his tone was bored and he was never really paying that much of attention in whatever you were saying.

If he was, maybe he had listened to you when you called him warning you would be home earlier than the expected...

"The fact is that I'm good at what I do. And my work was done a week earlier than what we planned, which gave me a small bonus and free pass to come home sooner than what we were expecting."

Ivar's expression changed as if he already knew what was to come.

"Lemme guess: the bastard thought your apartment could become a whorehouse while you were away?" he asked, and you giggled.

It was funny to hear a man that wasn't somehow supporting the sick bastard you called a boyfriend.

"Bullseye, handsome,” you said, smiling at him. "The bastard thought my bed was a good place for dogs to mate and when I came home, he was still fucking the bitch of the time. Over my sheets! I wanna burn that mattress so bad!" you sighed.

It was a good mattress. But how many chicks that bastard had seeded over it when you weren't there to stop him?

"Then burn it, girl," Ivar said, sipping from his coffee. "But kill my curiosity: why are you here washing their clothes after this?"

"Oh, I decided they were mine like every other thing inside that apartment I bought with my money. And since he used it at his own pleasure, I thought his belongings would be a good payment for the rent of the motel room..."

Ivar almost choked with his coffee, laughing through his nose trying not to burst and spit everything.

"You think this is funny? You should have seen his face, covering his dick with both of his hands with that white ass exposed in the middle of the street and nothing but the shoes he didn't have taken off to fuck the bitch," you remembered. "Oh, that was a hell of a scene!"

"Wait, you've thrown both of them naked outside??" Ivar asked and this time he burst in laughs when you nodded, confirming the scene his imagination was trying to portrait. "Fuck! That was something I would like to have seen. Gods, woman, you're amazing!"

"Yeah, but now this amazing woman has a whole wardrobe to wash and donate and a mattress to sell. I guess I'll be sleeping on my couch until I find a way to get rid of all those DNA samples..." you mourned.

And with the sound of his machine ending the cycle, Ivar finished his coffee, getting up with his crutches to walk towards the machine.

A smile in his face.

"I have a big backyard... I think it would be nice to make a fire pit tonight. Wanna come?" he joked.

And you smiled.

"Trying to find a way to see me again and keep me around to open your machines, handsome?" you entered his joke, approaching to help him with the door of the washing machine that opened easily to your touch.

"Perhaps," Ivar answered, with a smile locked in the corner of his mouth you thought was the most charming thing you ever saw in a man's face.

"I think you earned your machine operator... But only if you can warrant me there will be a good coffee for us to share," you joked, negotiating.

And Ivar smiled looking at you.

You were really his kind of girl... And that smile of his was the kind of smile to make you fall like a leaf in Autumn.

"I bring the coffee; you bring the mattress. Tonight, at eight," he settled with a fun tone.

"It sounds like a first date for me," you smiled, feeling when he touched the tip of your nose before picking up his basket with his clothes.

"Perhaps..." he said again, leaving you with the sensation something very good was about to happen in your life.

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[ivarsshieldmadien]

Le Trio Mortel

This is for readers 18+ 

This is a spooky awesome collab I am doing with @grungyblonde and @laketaj24 I love these girls and I love this fic!! I hope everyone enjoys this and if you haven't read the prologue yet, read it HERE 

1821 New Orleans

A chill of relief shot through my body when the younger looking, undead woman handed me my grimoire, “I thought it was lost forever.”  I said, looking back to the pale woman, her cheeks were sunk in and she was so thin she didn’t look like much of a threat. She seemed relived and excited as she raises to sit on her knees and said, “My name is Melisandre D’Amour. And I seek refuge and revenge against the vampire coven of New Orleans.”

“Melisandre come sit with me. It seems we have a lot to discuss.” I said, reaching out a hand to help her off the ground. Her hands were ice cold, “first, you need to feed.” I look over my shoulder, “Leandro.” Leandro sauntered over to Meli, “take off your shirt.” He obeyed and waited for my word, “kneel.” His brown skin glistened in the candlelight and I run a sharp nail up his toned, muscular back. When I got to the top of his head I yanked it back exposing his neck to her. Meli looks up with a mixture of emotions in her eyes, “go on, you need to eat,” she opens her mouth revealing her fangs and she, hastily, clamps down on his neck. I think to myself, she must be new at this because this girl was a messy eater. She was done in seconds and Leandro’s limp body fell to the floor. I waved a hand, and someone dragged his heavy lifeless body away. “Thank you.” Meli said wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. I nodded in response.

“Tell me Meli, how did you come to possess my grimoire?” I asked running my fingers over the cover of my sacred book as she began her story.

“My father was an affluent aristocrat in France and he moved me and my mother to New Orleans a few months ago to flee from the war. One night, I was at a party with my parents when, none other than, Count Saint Germaine came up to my father and asked for my hand in marriage. My father refused, he thought I should make my own decision on who I wanted to marry. After that, everything was kind of a blur. The Count moved so fast, there was blood everywhere and I looked around and everyone was dead, including my mother and father. The Count took me to, some kind of, cellar and asked me if I would be his wife. I spit in his face.”

I let out a scuff, I like this girl, she is feisty, I thought to myself.  She continued, “He turned me shorty after I refused him, and he chained me up. I knew my soul left me and I could feel my body changing into something else, something different. All I could think about was my hunger. He starved me and kept me chained like that for days, weeks, I honestly don’t know. He thought he would wear me down, make me bend to his will. I remember the darkness of the cellar. The longer I was down there the more my eyes adapted too little to no light, to the point that candle light would make me squint. My hearing was so sensitive, when the Count would bring someone into the room, I could close my eyes and hear their thick, rich blood pumping through their veins, and it was all I could think about. So, one day I over heard the Count talking to someone about you Marie.”

My eyebrows shot up, revealing how intrigued I was at her story, “Yes, go on.” I said, encouraging her to continue. “He spoke of a very powerful spell book that he possessed and a soul he trapped, away from you. On the night I escaped, I knew I had to find you and return this to you.” She said reaching out and touching the book. “Marie, you are the only person that can help me inflict the pain and suffering the coven deserves. I pledge my undying loyalty to you Marie Laveau.” Meli finishes.

I leaned forward and reached out my hand and touched her cold, pale cheek, “They took someone very dear to me too.” Her eyes grew, “The soul they are keeping trapped is my lover. They killed the love of my life like an animal in front of me and they are keeping his soul from me. I need it back for when a strong and righteous vessel comes along his soul will enter and we will be reunited.” I nodded and said, “I will grant you protection and I will help you avenge your family’s demise.”

 Present day, New Orleans

Ragnarssons POV

He gripped her golden tan skin hard pulling her against him. She was hot and wet around his aching cock. Her moans were melodic and so fucking sexy, “Ugh I-I’m gonna…” Ivar woke up, panting in a cold sweat, to Hvitserk snoring in the room across the hall.

***

He had the same recurring dream about the woman every night for a month. It is what caused Ivar to talk his brothers, which wasn’t very hard, into flying to New Orleans. He didn’t know why it had to be New Orleans, it was like something was calling him there. His brothers loved the idea right away and they were pumped to party on Bourbon Street. Ubbe had been on his phone most of the flight over researching the best tittie bars and drive thru daquiri shops, Ubbe was always on that damn phone and it was his younger brother’s biggest pet peeves. Hvitserk on the other hand, hasn’t stopped talking about all the amazing food he was ready to eat. Right when they got off the plane and headed to their Air B&B, Hvitserk made Ubbe pull over so he could run into Café du Monde to get some beignets. That boy was always eating something.

Ivar attempted to go back to sleep and it wasn’t happening, so he sat up and pulled out his laptop and started looking at cool things to do in New Orleans. He was scrolling through a list of haunted ghost tours and the computer jumped to a page for St. Louis Cemetery. A chilling whisper drifted across Ivar’s ear, like someone was right there next to him, “come. Come to me,” it said.

***

The sun’s up and Ivar is sitting at the kitchen bar drinking a glass of water when Hvitserk walks in, “Ivar, check this shit out. Ubbe, come on man show him.” Hvitty says motioning his oldest brother to come over, “show him the picture on Insta.” Ubbe held up his phone and there was a picture of a huge bloody mary with an entire fried chicken sticking out of it. “We are going right now.” Hvitserk said excited.

After a delicious breakfast the boys started walking down a street by the French Quarter. Hvitserk, was trailing behind Ivar with Ubbe and was already discussing what he was going to have for lunch, “I definitely want some fried catfish, some etouffee, oh and I gotta have some gumbo.” Hvitserk continued to spout off any dish that was remotely southern while Ubbe was face deep in his phone, looking for Odin knows what. Ivar turned down an alley way and his brothers, not paying attention to where he was leading them, followed him. “Come to me.” He heard the cool whisper again. Next thing he knew, they were all standing in front of a blood red door. “Ivar, where are we?” Ubbe asked, finally looking up from his phone. “I don’t think this is where the brewery tour is.” Hvitserk said. Ivar didn’t even knock, he just, pushed the door open and saw her, the woman from his dreams.

Marie’s POV

Before the door opened I knew he was there. I turn in my chair slowly and stop when I saw his familiar piercing blue eyes. He looks just like my soul mate from so long ago. All three men in front of me were gorgeous. They all resemble each other so it is easy to assume they are brothers.

“Tu es revenu vers moi.” I say under my breath. I turn to my right and Charlot has stopped grinding herbs in her mortar and pestle, she is distracted. Of the three men, her eyes were scanning the toned body of the oldest brother.

My gaze turns back towards the three men in front of us when Melisandre slides out of the shadows behind them. She feed recently, and I know she can control herself around them but it’s a matter of if she wants too. She hovers behind the tall one with his hair tied in a bun, “mmm this one smells delicious.” She says making the man jump and turn to look at her quickly.

“Bonjou, what is it I can do for any of you today?” I ask already knowing their answers. Still studying his uncanny resemblance to my lover, he answers honestly, “ugh I really don’t know. Something drew me here, like something was calling me.” I let a smirk slide across my face. I am the reason he is here. I cast a simple spell, so I could find an ancestor of my lover Baron, and here he is, standing in front of me staring with those same crystal blue eyes. “what are your names?” I ask and each of the brothers rattle off their names like roll call, “I’m Ubbe.” Says the older one, “I’m Hvitserk.” Says the one with, I think the kids are calling it, a man bun. “And I’m Ivar.” My blue-eyed lover says. He is perfect, and I knew in this moment he is the vessel I had been searching for, for so many years.

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[salimahbicharara-comun]

At Your Service

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader

Summary: Modern AU. There’s a very important dinner tonight in the house, and Hvitserk’s boss wants everything to be perfect. Hvitserk can work with that; he can be the perfect and invisible butler that just smiles and serves champagne. That’s it, if he can get his hands off of the very attractive and neglected wife of his boss.

Words: 6.763.

Warnings: swearing, cheating (but that bitch deserves it), smut (fingering, dirty talk, light choking), Hvitserk being petty, my horrible writing.

A/N: Inspired by a post @honestsycrets did a while ago where she said how good of a butler Hvitty boy would be. My mind went crazy and here we are. Also I totally suck at writing sex scenes and this is so fucking bad, so let me apologize in advance.

I think is painfully obvious that english isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes in the narration is because of that. Please let me know what do you think! The credit of the gif goes for it’s respective owner.

Mother raised him well, Hvitserk wants to think. He grew up in a world where people had to smile at all times and pretend that their lives weren’t falling apart, so Hvitserk had experience in pleasing others.

And as he remembered his childhood in the big house on the hill with his brothers and the occasional appearances of his father, Hvitserk still wondered how he had ended up there.

And the truth is that he didn’t know why he kept torturing himself in that way, because he knew very well how he ended up living in an apartment just far enough from the dangerous zone of the city and working as a, wait for him, butler.

Because he knew exactly how his life had gone from traveling on yachts and flirting with beautiful women in bikinis to serving drinks – which weren’t even for him, damn it – and licking the boots of wealthy and pretentious men.

A chorus of laughter was heard at the main table and Hvitserk stepped forward to refill the empty glasses. A smile adorned his lips, but the man barely looked in his direction as he left the bottle on the table and returned to his place in the shadows.

Hvitserk hated it, but he was good at it. Maybe way too much. Maybe that was why he was still there, holding back his desire to yell 'That’s not how you drink that kind of wine, goddamnit', and not anywhere else.

A maid got in the room pushing the second plate of the night in a cart, and Hvitserk and three other butlers moved to remove the old plates and put the new ones. There was a moment when the conversation at the table was silent, but soon everyone was laughing and chatting while they ate things that were worth the three-month salary of each of the employees in the room.

Half an hour passed without anything interesting to mention, besides from the eye contact he had with the voluptuous wife No. 5, who looked at him like he was a piece of meat before noticing his uniform and looking away quickly, her cheeks blushing in embarrassment. Hvitserk would have given anything to know what she was thinking.

He played with his fingers and tried to listen to the silent conversations men had with each other about their lovers and how the wives pretended not to listen. Sometimes Hvitserk felt guilty, because less than a year ago he was like those people.

And a part of him was happy, to be honest. He came home every day, his small apartment welcoming him with a burned light and a rat forming a family in the kitchen. He liked to torture himself by stalking Ubbe's social networks, watching the nephews he barely knew grow up through the endless photos that Ubbe insisted on taking every damn day. They talked sometimes, and if Ubbe heard the lie in his voice when he told him everything was fine then he never said anything.

His heart still skipped every time he found a letter from Sigurd in the middle of his bills. It was always a different postcard; Sweden, Greece, Ecuador. Hvitserk never knew exactly where he was, but he hoped he would be going better than him. Bjorn barely spoke to him, too busy looking for a new wife – or trying to get back the last one of his younger brother's arms – but Hvitserk didn’t care.

Just before the dessert was served, a voice stood out from the others. Hvitserk's boss, the party Host and owner of the house, stood up and said a few words that Hvitserk didn’t bother to listen to. His attention was on something else.

His boss's wife sat next to him at the table, a small smile adorning her painted lips. Her eyes looked at her husband with interest that Hvitserk knows is faked, and her smile was a little too tight at the edges to be real. Hvitserk was distracted by the low cut of her red dress, showing just the right amount of bust and clavicle, before blinking and looking ahead again.

The woman was positively beautiful, and God knows that Hvitserk has seen beautiful women in his life, but she attracted him in an almost painful way. Maybe it was because she was the only woman in the room that he couldn’t sleep with, being her boss and all that, but there was something about the way she smiled and moved that made his pants feel tighter than usual.

The Host was still talking, saying some jokes and telling funny stories, and people were laughing and nodding, but not her. She just smiled and looked at him, straightening in her chair and brushing the hair away from her face. She pulled her chest forward, and Hvitserk realized how desperate she was for her husband's attention.

The man certainly didn’t pay attention to her; his eyes didn’t move to her once, only to his guests, and a woman with black hair and long legs took all his winks and flirting. Hvitserk wasn’t sure if the guests were too stupid to notice or too kind to mention it, but the Host had clearly invited his lover to a dinner with his wife.

Hvitserk couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for her. The woman was a good person, if he was bold enough to say that he knew her. Unlike some horror stories he had heard from his co-workers, Y/N wasn’t like other wealthy women with such a large staff.

It's not like he's his friend, but he'd spent enough time with her to know that she was actually a nice person. Maybe it was because she wasn’t born in the upper class, unlike him. She had entered this lifestyle thanks to her husband, and had adapted perfectly.

And that made his stomach roll, because she was so kind and sweet to the staff and never raised her voice to them and was sympathetic to their needs. She was a decent person, his mother would say, in a way that Hvitserk had never been.

The soft light of the dining room illuminated the way her lip curled into a pout, and holy hell, Hvitserk wanted to pull that pout between his own lips and bite it. The Hostess let out a defeated sigh when she realized that her husband wasn’t going to notice her dress or her hairstyle, and Hvitserk realized too late that he was still staring at her when she looked at him.

Her lips parted with surprise and her shoulders straightened, her chest coming forward in that tight red dress. Hvitserk knew that he should look away, knew there were certain unwritten rules that people like him should follow, and make eye contact with his superiors was one of them.

But goddamnit, he couldn’t look away. The way her chest rose and fell with each breath drove him mad, because if there was anything worse than looking into her eyes it would be looking at her breasts.

But she didn’t look away either. Her lips closed when she realized the expression she had, and Hvitserk pushed the images of what he would do with that mouth in the back of his mind. The Hostess straightened, brushing a strand of wild hair from her face, and her lips spread in a smile.

Hvitserk had been with so many women in the past, but this woman, this damn woman was smiling sincerely, kindly, and he knew that she noticed the hungry way he looked at her, but yet there was she, looking at him with sweetness, and Hvitserk returned the smile, because then he would feel like he had kicked a puppy if he didn’t.

Her smile stretched until her eyes wrinkled, satisfied with his reaction, and Hvitserk wanted to bang his head against the wall. No, he could never sleep with this woman. She was too sweet for him, she would get attached.

Hvitserk returned to reality when the other butlers began to move. The dinner was over and it was time to clean the table while the guests went out to the garden to continue drinking and talking. The Hostess stood up next to the others, and Hvitserk made eye contact with her one last time before she came out through the glass door.

Hvitserk got the kitchen behind the line of butlers, feeling like the main character in a caricature. It was a little humiliating the way the Host insisted that the staff should act; fast, stoic, perfectly in sync. Nothing should be out of place in his perfect life. Neither his clothes, nor his wife, nor his servitude. He heard him say that once.

The kitchen, unlike the living room, was chaotic. The dinner was served and the guests were satisfied, so the cooks could rest, but more dishes kept coming and the maids sweated to finish cleaning the kitchen before the party ended.

Hvitserk felt sorry for them, but there were times when he would rather be there than outside with Mr. I'm Too Rich To Remember Your Name. Hvitserk had to bite his tongue to avoid spitting that, in fact, he had as much money as the Host, it didn’t matter if he refused to use it. And it doesn’t matter that his bank account hasn’t been touched for months, Hvitserk was determined to find his own way, thank you very much.

He was about to sit near the window to smoke a well-deserved cigarette when a tray of cocktails was pushed into his hands. Hvitserk looked at the chief of staff with what he expected to be surprise and not annoyance, because the man only raised an eyebrow in his direction and pointed his chin at the door. No break this time, then.

Hvitserk went out into the garden holding the tray tightly, trying to relax his posture and look like the perfect butler who doesn’t mind anything at all. The guests had parted as they left, and Hvitserk would have to walk from one side to the other for half an hour until his tray was empty and each guest had a drink in their hand. Fantastic.

He almost tripped over his own feet when he saw the Hostess sitting away from the party. She was alone, as she usually did, and a glass of wine already filled her hand, but it was almost empty. Her eyes were focused on the angel fountain in the middle of the garden, but Hvitserk sensed that she wasn’t really admiring the sculpture.

She took off her heels and had raised her legs on the chair, bending them under herself. Hvitserk could see the guests stealing fleeting glances in her direction and muttering to each other. What is this woman doing, acting as if she was completely alone in the middle of a party?

What a scandal, Hvitserk felt the need to whisper to the couple on his left. Because it's not like she's in her own house and in her own garden, of course not. There are rules, and she is breaking them.

The Hostess rested her head on her hand with the saddest expression Hvitserk had ever seen. Just as at dinner, a pot adorned her lips and a look of nostalgia shone in her eyes. Hvitserk wanted to erase that expression from her face as soon as possible, before the guests realized that oh shit, Harold, she is three seconds away from crying.

"Hey, waiter." A voice made him look away from her. The Host called him with a wave of his hand, and Hvitserk had no choice but to forget the Hostess and obey his boss. The man didn’t see him approach, but it was almost as if he could smell the alcohol nearby. The Host took a glass and took a long swallow before he looked at Hvitserk. "Hvitsork, isn’t it?"

Hvitserk had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, "Yes, sir." He lied, his voice sounding like that of a robot.

The Host hummed, giving his drink another sip. His eyes scanned the room before stopping at the black-haired woman chatting with a couple. The Host smiled and pointed at her with his glass, "She's a beauty, don’t you think?"

Hvitserk looked at the woman's long legs for a second before turning her gaze to the front, deciding that the floor was a safer place to put her eyes, "She's lovely, sir."

The Host laughed, a low rasping sound, and Hvitserk hated the sound. The Host patted him on the back, "Don’t be nervous, my friend. Look all you want. She likes it," He said, and Hvitserk wanted to hit him so badly. The Host smiled broadly, his eyes fixed on his lover on the other side of the room, and perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze, but finally he became aware of his wife's presence in the shadows of the garden.

The Host's jaw clenched, as if the memory of his wife was an inconvenience, and he gestured for Hvitserk to come closer. “Take a drink to my wife, will you? She looks a bit blue.”

The man reminded him painfully of his younger brother, Ivar, that in a cruel twist of fate was now the head of his father's company. Hvitserk wasn’t sure why, but there was something in the condescending manner in which the Host spoke and acted that reminded him of his brother.

Maybe it was the way he treated people as if they were less than him, or that arrogant smile that told you how insignificant you were, but Hvitserk still felt that he was still in the house on the hill with his brother, trying in vain to keep a bit of his dignity and not abandon the company that his father had worked so hard for.

A look at the way the Host smiled at his lover across the room, and Hvitserk remembered why he fled from his old home to escape his brother's suffocating presence. He would never be treated as an equal there, and things hadn’t changed much for him now that he works as a butler for a man as an dick as Ivar.

Hvitserk smiled, his cheeks tense and his gloved fingers tightening the tray in his hands, "Of course, sir," he said, and the Host dismissed him with a wave of his hand, as if he were a dog. Hvitserk straighted his shoulders and took another couple of laps around the garden before moving in the direction of the Hostess.

He walked along the stone path until the sounds of the party diminished and the only light that illuminated his surroundings was the small lamp that jutted between the plants near the fountain.

She still was sitting in the padded lawn chair, her glass now completely empty. Shee still looked sad, and Hvitserk wanted to kiss her until all she could say was his name.

“Miss.” Hvitserk paused at her side, one hand holding the now empty tray under his arm and the other offering the last glass.

Her gaze bounced between the cup and Hvitserk until she shook her head gently, "I've already drank a lot tonight," she said, but reached up to take the cup anyway, putting her empty glass on the floor. Hvitserk smiled before he could help it, and she realized, smiling back, "And you know I'm a married woman, not a miss."

The dim light of the streetlight illuminated her smile and the spark of amusement in her eyes, and Hvitserk swallowed the urge to run his thumb over those lips and ruin her perfect makeup.

Just like at dinner, her chest jutted out with his position and her bust attracted his gaze. The dress was piled on her knees in a pile of red silk, and the opening at the thigh was open wide, letting him see the skin of her thigh. Hvitserk felt like a hormonal teenager, getting excited just by seeing a little skin.

"You’re too beautiful to be married to that man," he heard himself say, and felt his stomach turn into a knot.

The Hostess stopped her glass halfway to her mouth, both hands around the glass. Her red lips parted with surprise, and Hvitserk could feel his shoulders tense, "Excuse me, ma'am, that was so inappropriate-" He started to say.

"It's okay..." She murmured, squeezing the glass between her hands. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, moving her head away from Hvitserk's direction. She did not even move to look at him when her eyes opened, "Hvitserk, I... I can’t..."

Hvitserk took a moment to rejoice that yes, she remembers his name, before taking a step closer to her. He was pretty sure he was breaking at least seven rules of the unwritten code of butlers, but he couldn’t help the way his hand moved to push a lock of hair out of her face.

The Hostess finally looked at him, her big eyes filled with something Hvitserk couldn’t identify, "Hvitserk, I shouldn’t-"

"Nobody has to know," he said, taking the glass from her hands and putting it on the floor next to the empty glass. His hand reached out to caress her cheek, and Hvitserk felt something pulling at his stomach when she closed her eyes and leaned on his touch, sighing contentedly. Hvitserk moved his thumb up and down her soft skin, and wondered if the rest of her body was that soft.

A scandalous laugh sounded from the party, and the Hostess's eyes snapped open. His hand was brushed aside as she stood up, taking a step away from Hvitserk. “You are my butler, Hvitserk. I’m married. We can’t do this.”

The Hostess turned to leave, but Hvitserk took her hand before she could take another step. The tray had been forgotten, and the Hostess turned around with bright eyes, her lips parted in a protest that died before slipping from her mouth.

"One time, it will only be once," he said, and Hvitserk was surprised at the plea in his voice. He never had to beg a woman to sleep with her, and there he was, ready to kneel, either to beg or to eat her out.

The Hostess opened her mouth, perhaps to protest or call him a pervert, but her eyes moved to the party not far from her. People no longer looked at her, too busy paying attention to the story that a woman told with emotion.

Hvitserk took a step forward, and when the Hostess turned to look at him he was already looking at her, a little too close to be professional. The Hostess bit her lip, and Hvitserk brought his hand to press the flesh with his thumb before he could stop himself.

The Hostess looked at him with large, bright eyes as Hvitserk wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her even closer, her body flush with his. His thumb moved slowly over her lip, his eyes following the lipstick mark he left behind. The things he wanted to do with that mouth...

The Hostess closed her fists on the fabric of her jacket, her eyes closing at the same time her lips wrapped around his thumb, her tongue circling the his fingertip. Hvitserk let out a deep growl from his throat, feeling himself trembling inside his pants.

Hvitserk released his thumb with a little 'pop', pushing the Hostess until her back was against a thick tree. The party wouldn’t take long to finish, but the guests were still chatting and laughing and attentive to anything that could be good gossip material. Hvitserk had a good view of all of them from his hiding place, but the tree and the lack of lighting prevented the Host or anyone else from seeing them.

The Hostess pulled from his coat until her body was flush with his again, her hands moving slowly up his chest to his shoulders. Her hands left a path of fire where they passed, and Hvitserk felt his heart speed up and blood flow down instead of his brain. Maybe that's why he leaned forward and captured the Hostess's lips with his own; he really wasn’t thinking right.

It had been a while since he had last kissed someone, but Hvitserk hadn’t forgotten how to do it. The Hostess let out a sigh as soon as their lips were connected, her shoulders relaxed and her legs shaking. Hvitserk smiled against her lips and pressed her against the tree, feeling the need to keep her standing.

The Hostess opened her mouth, her lips painted red making a mess with his mouth, and Hvitserk squeezed his hands on her waist to avoid grabbing her bottom and pushing her against his aching erection. Hvitserk stuck his tongue inside her, feeling the vibrations in her mouth when she moaned, her hands sinking into his hair.

The Hostess whimpered, a soft, low sound, and Hvitserk told himself that his mission was to make her moan much louder than that. With more willpower than he thought would take, he parted his lips from hers and pushed her against the tree with his hips. The Hostess gasped when she felt his hard, hot cock against her pelvis.

Hvitserk nibbled his way down her jaw and throat, stopping to press small kisses against the skin behind her ear. The Hostess clung to his hair, her lips parted in soft moans and her legs separated by his knee. Hvitserk pushed forward until her crotch grazed his thigh, and with one movement of his leg he had her squeezing his hair tightly.

"Hvitserk." She pleaded, her voice breathless. Hvitserk bit the skin between her neck and shoulder, earning a gasp of surprise, and then he kissed the bite to calm the pain. "My husband is right there."

Hvitserk growled, lips closing on the skin behind her ear, "He doesn’t make you feel like me, does he?" He muttered, squeezing her hips and pressing her against his thigh, moving her up and down. The Hostess moaned, pressing her cheek against his head. “He doesn’t make you shiver, he doesn’t make you moan in the middle of the garden with all his friends a few meters away.”

Hvitserk ignored the voice in his head that was screaming at him what the hell do you think you are doing, because his perfect butler's facade had completely disappeared and, dear God, he was about to fuck his boss's wife against a tree. Hvitserk had done crazy things in his life, but this was in his top ten.

“No, he doesn’t. Hvitserk.” She gasped, her eyes closing, and Hvitserk pressed their foreheads together because holy shit, it must had been a long time for her because she was close, dangerously close. Hvitserk bounced his leg, his thigh slapping her pussy softly. The Hostess's fingers sank into his arms, and Hvitserk took her chin and forced her to look at him.

"Do you want to cum, Y/N, huh?" He growled, his lips brushing hers. The Hostess opened her mouth and only a moan came out, her hips moving against his thigh in search of his release. "Do you want to cum all over my leg? Wet those cute panties of yours and my uniform so that everyone can see how much you enjoyed being here with me? I bet you do, darling, that's exactly what you want.”

"You're an asshole." The Hostess grunted against his lips, her hands tightening in his hair, but Hvitserk heard the shiver in her voice.

"Tell me something I don’t know." He bit her lip, pulling it between hIS teeth and smiling when she moaned. A drop of sweat went down his neck, and Hvitserk realized how sore he was inside his pants.

The Hostess whimpered, her hips rocking against his thigh, and Hvitserk couldn’t take it anymore. The Hostess's eyes widened as Hvitserk wrapped his hand around her throat, pressing her back against the tree. She stepped back, untangling her legs, feeling the heat of her pussy fading from her leg.

"No." She whimpered, and Hvitserk had to restrain herself from laughing, because it sounded like a little girl who had been denied a lollipop.

"Patience, ma'am," he murmured, and pushed his hips against the tree. The Hostess seemed to want to protest, but the words died on her lips when Hvitserk brushed the strap of her dress. His fingers brushed the skin around the fabric before pulling it slowly down her arm, more skin being revealed as the dress fell. Hvitserk repeated the process with the other strap until the dress was piled on her waist, the straps jammed on her elbows.

Hvitserk knew that she wasn’t wearing a bra, but seeing her breasts exposed still left him breathless. The Hostess gasped at the cold night air against her bare skin, her arms rising to cover herself. Hvitserk stopped her movement and pressed her arms against the tree, keeping it exposed for him. The Hostess looked at him with eyes numbed with pleasure, and Hvitserk knew that she wouldn’t stand his games much longer.

Hvitserk buried his face in her neck, inhaling her perfume, and the Hostess trembled under his touch. Hvitserk ran his hands down her hips to her waist, taking his sweet time to feel each curve, and finally stopped just below her breasts. If they were in another place and at another time, Hvitserk would have feasted on the meat in front of him, but just at that moment he had his time counted.

His gloved hands rose slowly until they cupped both breasts, the Hostess letting out a contented sigh. Hvitserk gently squeezed the flesh in his hands, feeling it move under his fingers. She opened her mouth in a silent moan as his fingers encircled her nipples, the rough cloth of his gloves brushing the sensitive skin.

Hvitserk rubbed one of her nipples with his thumb, and the Hostess rested her head against the tree, her lips pressed together tightly and her knees trembling, "Are you sensitive here?" Hvitserk asked, barely looking away from her breast, and the Hostess nodded with her eyes closed.

Hvitserk smiled and rubbed both thumbs with his thumbs before pressing them with his fingers, squeezing them like grapes. The Hostess's eyes snapped open, her hands coming up to clutch at his wrists and let out a loud, long moan.

Hvitserk took a look at the party to make sure no one had heard anything before returning his gaze to his partner. The Hostess was breathing hard and her eyes were shining with tears, her hands clutching at her wrists. "Shh, ma'am, you have to be quiet for me, okay?"

"Hvitserk." She whispered his name like a prayer, and Hvitserk couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips. He leaned down to kiss her long and deep, their tongues dancing together until his lungs screamed for oxygen, and Hvitserk pulled away from her.

He could hear the sounds of the party slowly diminishing, the guests beginning to tire. There wasn’t much left for the Host to finish the evening, but Hvitserk was very sure that he would leave the house to go with some of the men to a nightclub.

Hvitserk raised the skirt of her dress with impatience, the Hostess helping him to hold the fabric at her waist, and Hvitserk took a look at her cunt for the first time. She wore white lace panties, a little too small to cover much, and her excitement ran down her thighs. Poor creature, Hvitserk was killing her.

Hvitserk held back his smile and bowed until their noses touched, one hand holding her neck and another slowly sliding to her crotch. "I made you that wet, ma'am?"

The Hostess was panting, her hair disheveled and her chest rising and falling with each breath. "Yes, Hvitserk. Touch me, please.” She breathed, her voice trembling at the last word. Hvitserk didn’t know what he liked best; the way she pleaded or the way she said his name.

His gloved fingers brushed the skin over the edge of her panties, fiddling with the thin garter. The Hostess was breathing hard, her eyes never leaving the hand that was so close to giving her the pleasure she had been waiting all night. Hvitserk slowly pulled the garter down, just enough to expose the beginning of her pelvis.

Hvitserk swallowed a grunt when the Hostess sank her nails into his neck, his eyes darkening with lust. Hvitserk couldn’t take his eyes off her, even if she was focused on the hand that was now moving away from her pussy to go to his own mouth. Hvitserk pulled his glove with his teeth and threw him away, his skin wet with sweat cooling in the night air.

Now Hvitserk could feel better the lace under his fingers and the moisture that made her hot and sticky, and Hvitserk wanted to fall on his knees and devour her until there was no more moisture to lick, but time was running out.

The Hostess opened her mouth to say something, whatever, when Hvitserk finally pressed his fingers against her slit. The soft fabric interfered with the direct contact on her clitoris, but the harsh rose against her sensitive skin made her stagger forward. A wave of pleasure seized her body, and Hvitserk watched as her boss gasped under his fingers.

He pressed harder, moving his fingers up and down, alternating his attention between her clit and her entrance, pressing against the tight wet hole through the fabric. The Hostess gasped and whimpered at his touches, and Hvitserk wondered how much time had passed since she had been touched in this way.

Her lips parted in a silent scream as Hvitserk pulled her panties up, trapping her clit in the damp lace. “Hvitserk...!” She whimpered, her eyes closing tightly.

"Shh, darling, you have to be quiet to me." Hvitserk whispered on her forehead, his lips brushing the hair adhered to her skin by the sweat. He could only imagine how he looked under all the layers of his uniform. The Hostess nodded slightly, her hands squeezing the fabric of his coat like anchors.

Hvitserk released the pressure of her panties and pushed them aside, taunting her with gentle touches on the skin that joins her crotch with her thighs. The Hostess trembled, beads of sweat trickling down her collarbone and sliding between her bare breasts. Hvitserk moved his fingers painfully slowly until they finally reached the moist heat of her core.

The Hostess silenced a moan in his chest, and Hvitserk took it as a signal to move on. One hand held her head against his chest, holding it in place, and the other sank into her delicious pussy, feeling every curve and crease as if it were his cock that was moistening with her arousal and not his fingers.

Her clitoris felt different without the fabric of her panties to block his way, but that didn’t stop him from pressing it like a button. The Hostess shook under his grip, and Hvitserk held her more firmly.

His fingers moved and explored until they reached her opening, his fingers sinking into her moist heat as they registered that they could go deeper and deeper. The Hostess opened her eyes and buried her face in his neck, her wet lips brushing his skin as she pleaded for more.

"Please, please, please.” Moans slipped from her lips like a prayer, and Hvitserk almost came right there without even a touch on his aching cock.

It had been a while for him, too, since the last time he had felt the delicious warmth of a woman. The work had kept him so busy the last few months, he barely had time to jack off in the darkness of his apartment.

Now, however, he had this amazing woman rubbing against his hand and slapping her way to his pants, and Hvitserk didn’t even have enough blood in his brain to realize the consequences this could bring.

Hvitserk rammed his fingers inside the Hostess, her soft moans and muffled grunts at his neck, and Hvitserk felt his own knees begin to shiver. Her walls were so damn tight but so wet, Hvitserk could slip in and out so easily.

His eyes felt heavy, and his hand began to ache from the bent position in which he had it, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop now. The Hostess pressed a kiss to his neck, her lips lingering on his skin. "It feels so good, Hvitserk, keep going. Please."

Hvitserk grunted, his fingers going in and out from her with fury, and the Hostess moans trembled. Hvitserk pressed her against the tree again, his hips rocking with hers and his lips joining with hers. His hand quickened until the sounds of her wetness were all he could hear, and Hvitserk knew that the friction on her clitoris must be painful at this moment, but she just clung to his hair tightly and mewled.

Hvitserk sank his free hand into her hair, his breathing accelerating more and more with every second. His fingers were so deep in her heat, and with a single movement of his finger, the Hostess opened her mouth against his, the sounds of her moans muffled by his tongue. Hvitserk pressed that place again, and then again and again, and the Hostess bit her lip while she finally let go.

The Hostess trembled from head to toe, parting from the kiss and sinking her face into his neck, her hands shivering frantically as they searched for something to cling to. Her legs wobbled and before she could fall to her knees on the floor, Hvitserk held her upright between his body and the tree. Her walls squeezed impossibly hard around his fingers and a flow of excitement came out of her, moistening his hand and her thighs.

When her tremors finally stopped, the Hostess stood still in his arms, her death grip on his coat weakened, and finally she lifted her head, her eyes fuzzy. Hvitserk pulled his fingers gently from her, earning a soft moan.

The Hostess leaned forward, her hand closing in the crotch of his pants, and Hvitserk had to bite his tongue to keep from howling. He was going to regret this later, but he used all his willpower to push her hand away anyway.

"Next time. Now we have to clean you.” He said with what he wanted to believe was a firm voice, but there was a undeniable tremor in his voice. The hostess did something akin to a pout, but nodded anyway.

The sounds of the party had almost completely disappeared, but Hvitserk could still see most of the guests. The conversation was no longer noisy, and the wives were starting to look for their coats. The Hostess followed his gaze.

"We should go back soon." Hvitserk muttered, but he had already pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and was rubbing it across her face to clean her ruined makeup and sweat. The Hostess looked at him with bright eyes, a small smile pulling from her lips. Hvitserk imited her, “What?”

"Did you just take a handkerchief out of nowhere to clean me up?" She said, her grin widening. Hvitserk rolled his eyes. "You are a fantastic butler, Hvitserk."

Hvitserk shook his head almost imperceptibly, "I'm the best butler you'll ever have."

"Umm." She hummed as Hvitserk wiped the lipstick from her chin, "On that I agree."

Hvitserk wiped her face and cleaned the sweat from her neck and collarbone, and lingered a little longer than necessary on her breasts, but finally settled her dress in place. The Hostess stepped forward, her legs shaking like jelly.

Hvitserk stepped back, arranging his uniform and his hair. He couldn’t ley the Host notice how agitated he looked. He doesn’t like when his servitude is anything less than perfect.

The Hostess adjusted her hair, her eyes focused on the party and her husband, who had an arm around the black haired woman's waist. But she didn’t look sad anymore, Hvitserk noticed. A little nostalgic, but her lips no longer curled in that grimace of sadness that had been there all night.

Hvitserk was still watching her when she returned her attention to him, and was caught looking at her a second time that night. There were few things that blushed Hvitserk, but the way the Hostess looked at him with that half-sided smile shouldn’t be one of them.

The Hostess stepped closer to him, her hands smoothing the wrinkles of his uniform gently. She was no longer agitated at all, as if she hadn’t been fucked with his fingers against a tree just a few minutes ago. Her lips stretched into a soft smile, the kind of smile that Hvitserk had learned to fear.

The Hostess didn’t stop touching him, "Thank you," she said, and Hvitserk knew that she was sincere for the way she looked at him, in that way that Hvitserk knew had a true feeling. He didn’t have time for feelings. The Hostess squeezed his shoulder. "For helping me forget him tonight. I promise I won’t bother you again.”

Hvitserk wanted to scream for so many different reasons. He wanted her to bother him again, as much as she wanted, and he wanted her not to look at him ever again because Hvitserk knows how easy it is for a woman as sweet as her to get attached.

Ignoring all the warning alarms in his head, Hvitserk took her chin in his hand and lifted it up so she looked into his eyes, "Always at your service, ma'am," he whispered, his fingers stinging to draw her towards him.

The Hostess opened her mouth and closed it again, and Hvitserk would have given anything to know what she was about to say. She stepped back as if to put a little distance between them, but Hvitserk bent down and kissed her anyway, holding her head with one hand and wrapping her waist around the other.

Her shoulders tensed for a total of five seconds before she released a long breath through her nose and then she was melting into the kiss, running her hands up and down his chest. Hvitserk still had no fucking idea of what he was doing, because she had already made it clear that she wouldn’t try to take things further that night and there he was, sucking her inner lip in his mouth and sinking his fingers into her hair, ruining it again.

He stepped back just long enough to fill his lungs with air, the Hostess breathing heavily, her eyes closed and her lips curved still waiting for another kiss. Hvitserk brushed his mouth with hers, the contact too light to be called a kiss, but she sighed as if it was.

Hvitserk ran a hand down her back, trying to feel more of her body in the few moments they had left, and the Hostess pressed his neck, pulling him closer.

"There's something in you..." he whispered so low that he wasn’t even sure if he said it out loud. "It makes me absolutely crazy."

The Hostess smiled against his lips, and Hvitserk wanted to bang his head against a wall because he wasn’t supposed to be doing this, he wasn’t supposed to be kissing and caressing his boss in the darkness of the garden as if they were lovers. Or maybe they did were lovers already.

The Hostess pressed a last kiss to his lips, lingering a few seconds more to savor it and nibble his lower lip, and then she was backing away and Hvitserk couldn’t reach her this time.

"Let's go back now," she said casually, picking up her heels off the floor and running a hand through her hair. The light from the streetlight illuminated her as she waited for Hvitserk to pick up his glove and the wine glasses, one empty and one full.

She walked ahead of him as they returned to the party, Hvitserk quickly returning to his role of perfect butler, holding both cups with one hand and the empty tray with the other.

And as they approached the party and some couples said goodbye to the Host, the Hostess looked over her shoulder so quickly that Hvitserk barely noticed that she did, but the look in her eyes told him everything he should know.

That wouldn’t be the last night they would spend together.

A/N: I TOLD YOU I’M TERRIBLE AT SEX SCENES.

I was halfway into writing this piece of shit when I realized it could have been way easier if I wrote it from the reader’s pov, but I already had so much done that I didn’t had the heart to delete it and start over. Also, I think I got too carried away with Hvitserk’s backstory, but whatever.

As always, let me know what you think and if you see any mistake, don’t be shy and tell me!

[honestsycrets]

Freyja’s Secret | [Floki x Reader]

❛ pairing | floki x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | floki meets a goddess on the beach who gives him inspiration to build his first boat. 

❛  warnings | delusions, hating on rollo (this is my blog after all.

❛ request | it begins.OMG I got so excited about the plus-size event 😁😁 if i can request some fluffy with Floki??! Maybe he's in love with plus size!reader and worships her like he worships Freyja!! But if you n't want to do it,i will be very happy reading the other requests!!😘😘

❛ notes | gif is not mine.

Humans are mean creatures. 

It’s no wonder then that Floki has such little need of them. He’s recently taken over his late fostri’s pastime: boats. A traditional sport that someone had to do for Kattegat. Floki’s bare legs slosh in salty water, sending off his boats into the hungry and unforgiving sea. He regards them idly, fingers tickling each other. His father’s old prototype was good… could be better. He’d make them better.

Floki tinkers with the sail of his father’s boat. He looks off into the distance, considering how the boat would float when a wave of water thrusts him off balance. His boats suck into the water, and in his panic, he rushes after them. His clothes are sodden with water. It makes motion heavy and sluggish, as if hands below were dragging him down from his precious boats. Every one of them pull out to sea. Just when he thinks all is lost, that Ran has sucked in his fleet, they wash to shore under a tranquil wave. 

Floki’s hand thrusts up, trickling water up and over his sparse hair, picked in spots due to his problematic tic of picking at his head. He looks toward the shore, the warm stream of sunlight kisses his pale skin, and he, at last, notices a figure onshore. Golden rays peek over your skin, perfectly lit, and it’s all suddenly okay. The gods could strike down his prototypes-- every, single, one. It would be okay. 

In place of destruction, you stand there, in a wet gown that has melded to your skin, picking up his various boats and securing them on the cloth that he carried them here in. Then you stand there, shivering under the coolness of a sea gust. Floki’s knees bend, bringing waves of water to shore. As if you’re knee-deep in mud, you stand there waiting for him. Most women ran, bolted at his eccentricities, shunned him in his entirety. 

“What is your name?” 

You mutter your name, a distant voice, one he hasn’t heard before. He thought he knew everyone in the larger village of Kattegat of the necessity of occupation. He was wrong, somehow, because he’s never known a woman of such a distinct shape to work within Kattegat. Your hair tumbles, insulting the ground with its beauty. When you lock eyes with him, he swears its nothing but soft adoration, and his head tilts, unnatural in its angle. 

“Where have you…” his fingers click, shifting together, and a giggle leaves his throat. “You aren’t from Kattegat.” 

“No. It’s a secret,” you say, and it doesn’t altogether register that it could be a neighboring village, no. It has to be up higher, beyond the realms of man, for someone to consider him as more than a lonely boat builder, who had nothing to do but bat lengthy eyelashes at him, and gods-- he stops inches before you, wavering closer. His fingers throb, aching for a touch, just one. 

“You’re Freyja…” he whispers, as though this whirlwind of a moment can somehow be summed up to the golden-haired goddess, who teased him with generous intimacy. 

“I can be whatever you want me to be.” You lean into his palm, closer, cheek shifting, hellish eyes fixed upon him. He’s going down-- quicker, harder, and he’s dry for words and certainty. The only certainty he knows are the spiraling thoughts, his thumb flicking over a bouncy full lower lip and above all-- the need. 

“But you are... Floki,” you capture him, and he doesn’t know when he gave himself over, or when you learned his name, only that when his hand shifts back, there’s a need there. The way you whisper his name snowballs his need, harder, and faster, and more, and more, it grows. You lean forward, biding him deeper. He falls into it. “...the Boat Builder.” 

His head flicks, drawn back, confused. “T- The boat builder?” he giggles. 

He’s never known that name. His father was the boat builder. He was the apprentice. For so long, he was used to that, but you pull him in, reaching for his peasant hands, lacing them in between your plump fingers, dragging them around her full waist. You taste sweet on his lips, your grazing his, and its the first he had. The first time he has felt special and sweet. “I’ve waited for you,” Floki thinks, imagining his daydreams. They’re here, all formed up, buzzing in front of him.

“I know. You’re so lonely. So alone.” The waters have stilled, and he doesn’t know where that powerful wave came from before, only that now, his buzzing head feels as if it can still-- untempered. He wants answers. Where, how, why? But this overwhelming peace seeped under his skin, like salty sea air, filtering inside of him so deeply that he had no idea where it came from. “But you don’t need to be.”

“I don’t?” 

“No... no. My Precious Floki,” you ask him, gliding your hand down to his chest, forming a cup over his heart. “Build a boat. ” 

And just like that, with the flicker of the salty sea air, it’s gone. The allusion before him, seeping so deep, taunting him with its beauty. Gone, he’s lost in the daze of the moment, swaying before the cool winds. It’s begun to get dark. His mind has played mean tricks on him, casting the allusion of plump lips on his, love seeping through his bones, your voice has rooted deep inside of him. He’s scared that he could never get you out. Could never get rid of this deep pleasure. 

Then, at last, he takes up his hammer. He was going to build Ragnar a boat. 

The boat rides the waves, cutting through the fastest of currents, until Floki squeals confidently at the nose of the boat. He’s pumped with adrenaline, fists in the hair, thanking Freyja, and Thor, and Ran, and all the other gods that his boat sails. All he remembers is the girl, the plump little goddess on the shore, who encouraged this latest design. 

“My boat!” 

“Look at it sail,” Ragnar tells him, and surely he smiles, ear to ear. That’s it. That’s all the validation he needed: from the gods, and from Ragnar. He hops over to his friend, grasps him by the shore, shaking him in his validation. 

“She knew! Freyja knew, you see-- my sacrifices weren’t for nothing,” he cackles, booting Rollo with emphasis. “You see, I told you! How could you doubt me?” 

“Somehow they weren’t.” Rollo snatches the oar, rowing boredly, taking them back to shore with his brother’s help. “Whatever ‘goddess’ would help you.”

“Freyja, I told you. Don’t be jealous, you pitiful dog. She was beautiful. She would put any of your whores to shame. If only you saw her, Ragnar!” Floki flicks his fingers at him, indignantly. Sure, Rollo mutters. 

They bring the boat to shore. The thought of her fills him with fine memories, full of pleasure and confidence. They row the boat to shore, long sweeps of his lithe arms bringing him home. They drag it to its hiding place. “Come drink with us, Lagertha is waiting.” 

“I think I will go home,” he’s reverberating with ideas, and thoughts, and how he could better the boat for his friend. It’s all warm confidence in his belly, but the excitement of his ideas flutter around in his belly like ravens constrained by his rib cage. They finish concealing the boat, lurch off, bouncing like three happy balls of energy. Rollo is silent. Always is-- planning some cock shit plan, no doubt. 

The boatbuilder sighs, raising his hands behind his neck. A long nap, that’s what he needs. As he turns to walk with his best friend-- he sees something wrong. Standing there, with gladdened eyes, is his Freyja. 

“Little Freyja…” he wonders out loud.

“I saw you sailing through the sea,” you whisper softly, despite the fact that two other men are there. At first, he thinks it is in his head. Until Ragnar stops, and maybe Ragnar sees her this time too. Floki’s head jerks on its axis, hoping this was real, hoping that he wasn’t lost in his head once again. “You really are a boat builder.” 

She’s stepping forward and Floki takes one back. His back collides with Rollo, who shoves him forward because he never did like the eccentric boat builder. Her eyes center on his twiddling hands. “You see her?” he asks Ragnar as though it's all alien to him. Is she real? Could she be something more than a cruel figment of his imagination? 

“Tell her something.” Ragnar counters, raising his hand to set upon his honey brown hair, so light, so thin between his fingers. You’re here, and he’s unsure what to say, bringing his gloved hand toward your cheek, caressing the soft and supple flesh of your full cheek. His forehead knocks against yours, the spry hairs tickle your forehead. 

He laughs. Then you laugh. And you’re laughing together in the dusky darkness that sets over the horizon, past the fjord. Somewhere along the way, Ragnar and Rollo set off toward home, patting each other’s shoulders. “I thought you were an illusion-” 

“An illusion?” 

“From the gods.” He points toward the sky, tipping back, laughing. The thumping in his chest reverberates hard and fast, vibrating in excitement. You lift your soft cheeks up, humming in agreement. 

“Why would you think that?” 

“You are strange,” he says pointedly. “You disappeared.” 

“I did.” 

“But you are here, bone and flesh, real. And still sent by the gods. Maybe a goddess. Are you a goddess?” 

“Maybe we all are,” you agree, pulled in the direction of his thoughts. “You never know what secrets the gods’ hold.” 

“Even Rollo?” His hand sets on the small of your back, guiding you toward his home, high in the mountains, where there would be no distractions. 

“Even Rollo.” Somehow, he doubts that. You bow your head, and he plucks free foliage among the trees, fixing it behind your ear. Gentle and soft, you look at him as if you’ve never seen a man more charmingly… weird. Heads of statues to the gods mark your entrance to his home. He’s faithful. If anything, you could be sure of that.

He opens the door up for his new little goddess regardless. Who was he to argue with a goddess? Floki swoops down like a raven, snatching you up around your thick legs, swirling into the room. He plops you on the bed, marveling as he sits there, his tremoring fingers following over your skin, lost-- and found. 

“Don’t look at me that way,” you say, flushed pink. “You look at me the way a child looks at his first armring.” 

“No, no, no,” Floki says, scrambling to sit upright. He takes your hand, gentle kisses on each of your digits as if Floki has some great promise to commit to you. His loyalty and love. “An armring isn’t enough to show you how I feel. It is... it is...” 

“More than that?” you finish, settling your hand atop of his head. His soft kisses tremble, and he feels himself crumbling under your soft touch. If he could, he would build a statue here-- of Freyja, little Freyja, you. 

“Yes. More ... more than that. More than any mortal could feel. I’ve never felt so deeply.” 

“I understand Floki,” your lips purse outward. 

Amused you look at him, stricken with excitement and love, and he’s sure he’s met a goddess this time. Your hand comes over his temple. A wash of warm exhaustion takes him over, and though he could not later admit why it came over him, it filled him with a night of deep sleep. 

He hopes when he wakes, his dream won’t fall to pieces.

@flowers-in-your-hayr​​ @fireangel1978​​ @artxfuck​​ @tephi101​​​ @alicedopey​​​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​​ @tootie-fruity​​ @titty-teetee​​ @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​​​ @ethereallysimple​ @deathbyarabbit​​ @deathbyarabbit​ @readsalot73​ @natalie-rdr​ @lol-haha-joke​​​ @lisinfleur​​​ @hissouthernprincess​ @marvelousse​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol​ @vikingsmania​​ @wish-i-was-a-mermaid​ @lif3snotouttogetyou​ @gruffle1​ @cris101071​ @gold-dragon-slayer​​ @babypink224221​ @wonderwoman292​ @naaladareia​ @beyond-the-ashes​ @generic-fangirl​ @chinduda​ @laketaj24​, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope​ @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117​ @unassumingviking​ @ladyofsoa, @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27​ @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13​ @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ @unacceptabletatertots​ @ivarandersen​ @stra-vage​ @tgrrose​ @cookies186​ @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim​ @msmorganforever​

[honestsycrets]

Labour Pains | [Harald x Reader]

❛ pairing | harald x reader

❛ type | snippet

❛ request | Okay love here’s my Harald request. Just some fluff story with the King. His Queen is pregnant and he takes care of her, and enjoys her curves even more . Thank you, thank you, thank you 😘😘😘 via @alicedopey​

❛ summary | you’ve made it to the end of a pregnancy-- and harald is still paranoid.

❛  warnings | mention of pregnancy loss (relation to Astrid), in labour.

You’re exhausted. The first of your long, grinding pains have only just begun. Curled up in a sea of your husband’s new furs, your eyebrows push tight together, the hazy burn of your body pulling apart comes every so often. You would sleep through it, if you could, but the pain rips you from your slumber. Your king is shirtless, wrapped in your arms within the loving marital bed. The warmth of his skin serves as the best medication to an agitated womb.

“Are you hot?” he asks, your eyes thick and heavy with sleep that would not come. It had been hours since the first of the labouring pains had come. Your forehead is dotted with warmth, sticking your forehead to his dark inked skin. Harald’s hand shifts to the small of your back, ignoring your thick hand that grasps his dragon hammer pendant. “The… fire, the flames. They are high,” the flames lick up in the small room.

“Not hot, my love.” you make out. “‘M tired.”

“I am so glad the gods chose women for this,” he laughs it off, dry humour that leaves you slapping his chest. A blotchy red mark settles on his aged skin. He knows. It’s hard work to grow a child. Then, at the end of it all, that child slips its way out in the most uncomfortable of intimate places. He feels a tug of guilt with every wavering gasp that hitches from your chest. He sighs, you’re too stubborn to let him help you. “Come, then. Are you thirsty? I can have them bring you ale.”  

“No, Harald, no.” you tell him, strong and unwavering. “Harald… please, stop. I…” a pause, a wave of pain. Has the pain progressed already? “Stay with me.”

It doesn’t feel real yet. Not for him, someone who has had the pleasure of filling you, watching you grow out your already plump frame inch by inch, until you were a beautiful contrast from your former self with your hips beautifully wide and belly firm and taut. He’s used to your size. He’s spent days running his hands over your many curves, and could outline them in his dreams.

“Where else would I go?” he chuckles.  He says that, but he can’t wait, it’s all too long and tedious. His child should be here, with him, and it makes his legs tremor. He wants to pace. You feel his legs shift. Perhaps he would still be afraid that the gods would rip this too from him, again. As they would and had in the past. Until that time when the child was in his arms, he would be fearful.

“The baby will come soon.” You assure him. “But I need you first.”

And soon, he knows it will be. But it's not soon enough.

@flowers-in-your-hayr​ @belovedcherry​ @fireangel1978​ @tephi101​ @alicedopey​​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​​ @tootie-fruity​ @titty-teetee​ @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ @ethereallysimple​ @deathbyarabbit​ @deathbyarabbit​ @readsalot73​ @natalie-rdr​ @lol-haha-joke​​ @lisinfleur​​ @hissouthernprincess​ @marvelousse​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol​ @vikingsmania​ @wish-i-was-a-mermaid​ @lif3snotouttogetyou​ @gruffle1​ @cris101071​ @gold-dragon-slayer​ @babypink224221​ @wonderwoman292​ @naaladareia​ @beyond-the-ashes​ @generic-fangirl​ @chinduda​ @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope​ @cris101071​ @daughterofthenight117​ @unassumingviking​ @ladyofsoa, @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27​ @feyrearcheron44​ @readsalot73​ @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13​ @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ @unacceptabletatertots​ @ivarandersen​ @stra-vage​​ @tgrrose​ @cookies186​​ @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim​​ @msmorganforever​​

[honestsycrets]

How About Now? | [Hvitserk x Reader]

❛ pairing | modern!hvitserk x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ type | you won’t give hvitserk sex. he’s pretty sure he’s gonna die. 

❛ request | Hey, me again ! I was thinking modern Hvitserk dating a plus-size girl and they still haven’t had sex. One day, he confronts her about it and she admits she has never felt comfortable during sex because of shitty lovers probably. Our puppy shows her how a man can enjoy her body 😏. Thanks 🥰 @alicedopey

❛  tw tags | self-conscious reader, plus size reader, drinking.

❛ sy’s notes | listen, okay, its just not my time to write smut and i’m sorry XD I’ll throw some headcanons out there.

Hvitserk was a good boy.

But a good boy who needed sex. He could stay and be good. He swore that he could. But… he was a boy that needed some lovin’ when he was out with his brothers, showing off their girls at dinner. Even Ivar, who Freydis hung off of. His brothers and their wives were all there. While that was good and well, Hvitserk sat holding the neck of his bottle.

He hears your heels clacking in the background. The house party was coming to an end. Torvi made quick work of the dishes while you wiped things down. Gunnhild, of course, helped with Sigurd who rathered the company of women to the annoying bicker of his brothers.

“So,” Ivar says, drawing circles on Freydis’s thigh. “Did you do it?” 

Hvitserk peeps up, recognizing that arrogant prick’s shit-eating grin. He doesn’t know how Ivar heard about their sex life. But nonetheless, Ivar watched all night in fascination as Hvitserk tried his usual moves to no avail. 

“You know the answer to that, Ivar.” 

Hvitserk brings the rim of the mouth of the bottle to his lips, chugging now. Ivar opens his lips to speak again when Hvitserk lurches up, swishing his bottle as if to indicate that it was empty. He trudges to the window where you peered outside, a small skiff of rain pelting the oversoaked grass. It had been raining relentlessly the past few days. 

“Raining?” Hvitserk chucks the bottle in its receptacle. 

“Been raining all week,” you return, looking over your shoulder to Hvitserk. He slid behind you with a low voice, quavering as he slid his hand over your thigh. Of course, he wouldn’t get far. Not with whatever it was bothering you, bothering you. It made it hard to think when you took his hand like that and slid it away from your warmth to your hip. 

“Not now,” you say, and slip away to show his brothers out before the storm began pelting the ground with renewed force. When they were safely out, you find Hvitserk there again-- slumped on the couch with his bottle between his fingers. His head felt light. Like the bottle between his fingertips sucked away all the worries. Whatever kind of mystery crack shit genie of no sex for you was in there, he wasn’t sure. 

“Babe?” you call at last. 

He turns up his crestfallen face, grinning his best ‘make it work!’ face he could muster. All he could do was to tell himself that it would pass, but eventually, he knew he would lose interest. There were only so many times he could be thrown off before he would say, fuck it! At least… if you would not explain why. 

“Hvitserk?” you prompt again.

Hvitserk has gone pallid, finishing off another beer in the time you showed his family out. “Can I grab the spare?” 

“Don’t you want to come cuddle?” 

There’s only so fuckin’ much a man wanted to cuddle. But he doesn’t want to say that when you looked so hopeful for it. Your soft cheeks pressing your lips together in a bright pout. Hvitserk hardly wanted to say no. 

“I’m kinda smashed.” 

You nod emphatically, reaching down to your thick ankles. He watches your dress rise as you loosen the straps to your heels, the slit raising to show the silky line of your panties. Its a strange sensation for sure to be so afraid of his boners. Mostly, because he knew that it wouldn’t go anywhere. But maybe that’s what annoyed him. 

“Liking what you see,” you flirt. His head drops back, the familiar throb of his cock hurting his head as much as his heart. The need is distant like a deep ache in his stomach that he just can’t will away. 

“Why are you fuckin’ doin’ this to me,” Hvitsek snaps, and he doesn’t feel it really, but the tears are beading at his eyes. You step out of your shoes in surprise, rising up to look at him. Hvitserk never cried. Not that he would show it, anyway. He stands up, turning away from you as he staggers toward the spare. 

You reach out to grab his hand, running your nails over his wrist and tugging him back. He drops the empty beer bottle, and your hand takes his other hand, keeping him in place. Your bright eyes focus upon him. 

“Hvitserk, what is it?” 

He doesn’t know the word for it. A want or a need for the intimacy you kept shutting him out from. “Are you not attracted to me or somethin’?”

As if that was the answer to your question, you lean back. Now he expected his own. While his brothers were ranting on their own sex lives, Hvitserk sat there with you, not saying and not denying anything. He wants intimacy. The comfortable, safe place where he could cherish you without worrying about whether he was making you happy or not.

“I…” you find the words coming out in shaky heaves. 

“Yeah,” he cuts you off, pulling his hands free. “I got it.” 

“No-- Hvitserk, no!” You stop him. His limbs were heavy and clunky, refusing to carry him to the spare bedroom where he could nurse his boner and pass out in a sea of self-deprecation. “It’s just-- sex never… works.” 

You had him there. 

“Works?” he repeats. “What--” 

“I never like it.” 

“Why?” he finds himself asking. 

“When you are my size, it is uncomfortable to make love.” You say, gliding your hands up his arm. It’s almost as if you suddenly realize that this was something he wanted. “But… I love you. I’ll do it for you.” 

You would do it for him. It’s meant to be something sweet, endearing, lovely-- but to Hvitserk, it sounds like settling. Doing it just to do it. With Hvitserk, that wasn’t something that was going to happen. 

“Sexy,” Hvitserk grumbles, and you have to laugh because it must sound as ridiculous to him as it had to you. He flicks his bottle into the trash, and in its place, his hands find their way back around the soft rolls of your waist. He pinches you there, and you swat him, blood rushing to your cheeks. “Hvitserk, knock it off.” 

“C’mon,” Hvitserk gleams, and you hate how easy it is to give credence to his words. “Gimme a chance.” 

A chance, you sigh out loud. Just one, you tell him, and he’s already outlining it in his head. You’re stepping toward the room, and he snorts gently, a soft but amused noise that reverberates off the thin walls of your home. 

“What is it?” you say. 

“C’mon,” Hvitserk pulls you toward the room, and there’s dread there, of not being ready. A chance to feel pain, or not be moist enough, or-- “Let’s cuddle.” 

Oh. That’s not at all what you thought it would be.

“Cuddle?” 

“Yeah,” Hvitserk snorts, waddling to the side. You support him with your hand to your chest. “‘M too fucked up to have sex. ‘Sides,” he pauses. “I wanna plan this out right.” 

You smile. After all that fuss, his scene about never having sex ever, he wasn’t about to do this now? “You’re a dumb-shit, Hvitserk.” 

“Yep. I know.” 

@flowers-in-your-hayr @fireangel1978 @artxfuck

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[cocovikings23]

Secret Lover - Chapter 1 (Modern!Hvitserk x Reader)

Hello everyone, this is my new story with Hvitserk (modern Hvitty :) )

Summary : The reader's best friend is Hvitserk Lothbrock. They have known each other since their childhood. She is a photographer, he is vice-president with his brothers in the company of their father, the great Ragnar Lothbrock. Her life is peaceful until the day she receives small attentions from a secret admirer. She doesn't know who he is and tries to find out with the help of her best friend... But is he really who he says he is?

Warnings : None

Words : 1297

Gif by @ivarsshieldmadien

Chapter 1 - The Letters :

Every morning at 8:00 a.m., you go to the Starbucks around the corner to get your morning drink - a macchiato sprinkled with cinnamon - before you start your workday at the studio. You've been a photographer for 2 years, but you first studied journalism. It didn't really suit you. So you turned your passion for photography into your profession.

That morning you are late, you hurry to get ready. For the hairstyle you make it simple; a simple ponytail and you forget make-up for today. You leave your building and go to Starbucks for your coffee - a day without coffee is a wasted day.

You check your backpack for your stuff, arrive in front of the studio, take the keys in your bag to open the door - where your best friend, Hvitserk, is waiting for you.

He is one of the sons of the great Ragnar Lothbrock who manages the whole city of Kattegat. He is tall, has light brown hair, and has beautiful green eyes. He is sweet and funny and sometimes a bit sulky. He is very popular with the female population of this city, but none of them are suitable for him.

"You're late, honey." Since your childhood, he likes to give you nicknames, but lately, he likes to call you honey. It doesn't bother you and above all, it doesn't seem abnormal to you because of all the Lothbrock sons you've always been close to him.

"Hello to you too, Hvitserk! Thank you for pointing that out to me... " you sigh with weariness because you hate being late.

Opening the door, you both go inside the studio where there are three rooms. The first one is the entrance where you expose the pictures and take the appointments. It's cozy. You have installed two armchairs and a small table and then your desk with your computer. The second room is the studio where you take the pictures. There are a lot of accessories there - toys, disguises, photo accessories, lamps to manage the lighting. And the third is the darkroom where you process the pictures.

Your best friend sits in one of the chairs while you light up the rooms one by one. When you come back to the entrance of the studio, you discover an envelope on the ground near the door, you didn't notice it before.

"Hvitty, is this yours? "you ask, looking puzzled.

"No, not at all. Maybe it's a bill or a note we owe you. Open it," replies Hvitserk.

On the envelope is only your first name written. You don't recognize the handwriting by the way. You open it and find these words:

"A day without seeing you is a morning without sunshine".

You blink in disbelief, think of it as a joke at first because you've been single for a few months - you've flirted with a few guys in bars, had a few one-night stands.

"So?  What's it all about?" Hvitserk gets impatient.

"It's a... poem... well... just a sentence... Take a look for yourself and tell me what you think." You hand the letter to Hvitserk. He reads the little words that are written on the paper and speaks. "It's... out of fashion to leave words under the doors of beautiful young women," he says sarcastically.

He gives you the paper back and then takes his smartphone to go back to his Instagram news feed.

"I think it's kind of romantic, but the weird thing is I'm not seeing anyone right now... So, who's the letter from?”

Hvitserk simply shrugs his shoulders and sticks to his phone, but you don't want to leave it at that, "Don't you want to help me find out who it's from? Hvitty?" You tilt your head to the side and give him a gentle glance, he can't resist your little baby face.

He sighs and then says, "Okay, I'll see what I can do," he smiles at you and then goes back to his previous activity on his phone. Björn, the eldest son of Lothbrock - and half-brother of Hvitserk - runs a security company, he knows everything that goes on in the small - or rather big - city of Kattegat.

Your first appointment is coming, Hvitserk signals you that he's leaving to let you work with your clients.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's noon. You've booked your meal at the caterer right next to your studio and the chef calls you to tell you that your meal is ready.

You go out to get it, lock the door of your studio and go to your caterer. You enter the restaurant for just ten minutes to greet all the staff and pick up your lunch.

You come back to your studio, again there is a letter on the floor with your first name written on the front of the envelope. You open it and read these words:

"You are so beautiful today".

Clearly, you are starting to freak out because while you were away your famous secret admirer came back to give you a letter under the door and you didn't notice anything.

You text Hvitserk to tell him about this new event and to meet you at your apartment after work. You don't want to spend the evening alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At 6 p.m. you leave your job, cross the narrow streets of Kattegat, and finally arrive at your apartment. When you get inside, you can see that Hvitserk is already there - you gave him your spare keys and you have his in case of emergency and for convenience - sitting on your couch playing PS4.

You throw your sneakers in the hall, put your bag next to your wardrobe and sit down next to your friend. He pauses the game. "So your secret lover is back? " he says, turning to you and placing the controller on the coffee table.

"Yes, while I went to get my lunch from Noma's, I was only there for a few minutes." You take the letter from your pocket and give it to Hvitserk, and then you take it back, "Isn't that weird? The guy follows me, observes me... ".

"I don't think he means you any harm, he's just maybe... shy. Surely a text message would be more conventional. " Hvitserk says as he gets up to go into the kitchen. "I'm hungry, what do you want to eat tonight?”

"There's a guy following me and all you can think about is eating? Did you ask your brother for information?”

"Yes, but he didn't see anything on the city cameras...so you're going to have to wait and see who this guy is," he replies, pointing to your letter on the table.

You sink into your couch, pout, and then take the two letters in your hands to read them again.

"What about ordering, honey?" You come out of your thoughts after this question from Hvitserk.

"Yes, if you want. I don't feel like cooking tonight." You take your phone and you say, "I'm calling for a pizza, yeah?" you ask your friend, shaking your iPhone.

"Yes, pizza is perfect!" He comes back on the couch beside you, takes you in his arms to console you, and tells you the plans for the evening, "Pizza, Netflix, and a good night's sleep!”

"Will you sleepover, Hvitty?" you ask your friend, even though you already know his answer.

"Yes, of course, honey!" he says before kissing you on your forehead.

You put on some music while you wait for the pizza delivery guy, laugh while you watch Hvitserk moonwalk like Michael Jackson, and think how lucky you are to have him in your life. But this mysterious admirer comes back into your thoughts. Today it's letters and tomorrow... what will it be?

****************

Thanks for your reading !

@youbloodymadgenius @waiting4inspiration @whenimaunicorn @zuxiezendler​ @therealcalicali​ @peaceisadirtyword​ @peachyboneless​ @bonniebird​ @salt-is-a-terrible-currency​ @saldelys​ @flokisdaughter​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @honestsycrets​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @ijustwant2write​ @thevikingsheaux​ @castielsangelsx​ @alexhoghsource​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @laketaj24​ @ivarswickedqueen​ @ivarsshieldmadien​ @hrhbella​ @lisinfleur​ @heathenarmyimagines​ @car-karaoke​ @vikings-imagine​ @heavenly1927

[cocovikings23]

Hello everyone 🙏🏼

Just to tell you, the next week I’m going to write new chapter from « New Start » and « Secret Lover ».

I’m sorry to be late but I had some medical problems. I have to rest, I’m still a little weak but I’m okay now. I have to write to change my mind and keep positivity ♥️🤍

Love you all and take care of you 💋

@youbloodymadgenius @waiting4inspiration @whenimaunicorn @zuxiezendler​ @therealcalicali​ @peaceisadirtyword​ @peachyboneless​ @bonniebird​ @salt-is-a-terrible-currency​ @saldelys​ @flokisdaughter​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @honestsycrets​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @ijustwant2write​ @thevikingsheaux​ @castielsangelsx​ @alexhoghsource​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @laketaj24​ @ivarswickedqueen​ @ivarsshieldmadien​ @hrhbella​ @lisinfleur​ @heathenarmyimagines​ @car-karaoke​ @vikings-imagine​  @heavenly1927 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

[lisinfleur]

Knust

Author’s Notes | I was thinking about this idea… I thought it would be a good way for him to fucking get a lesson… It had hurt me more than I thought it would. #sorry

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | No pair, Ubbe, Hvitserk

Info | Viking Age AU, Not requested. “Knust” is the Norwegian for “broken”. 

Words | 919

⁑ Warnings: HEAVY ANGST

"Then now, as if it wasn't enough, you'll fuck up everything too?"

Björn's voice was sounding harsh in his ears, but he didn't answer a word, just gathering Hvitserk's cloak and some dried food in his hunting pack, crossing his bow on his chest.

"I'm fucking speaking to you, Ubbe!" Björn tried to stop him, pushing his chest back, calling his attention.

"He won't survive the winter!" Ubbe answered, looking at his older brother. "And what you did was way beyond cruelty and you know that."

"What he did wasn’t cruel? He killed my mother! My mother!"

"And she killed ours!"

Ubbe's yell silenced Björn for a moment. The younger one sighed.

"You wanted to give him a lesson? Fine. I could understand your need to show superiority by taking that madness until the end to show him any shit like you not being as vengeful as he was or whatever the fuck you wanted to teach my brother to. I was convinced a scare would make Hvitserk go back to the rails after everything that happened. But banish him like that? Wet and clothless in the middle of the winter? The man you pushed outside your walls was the same one who brought an army from Ringerike to fucking help you to get your crown back, Björn! Hvistserk watched silently as you left alive the men who burned his lover alive and ignored his state going down the hill! I tried my best to bring him back and I thought your idea would be another chance to give him a strike, to force him back to himself. But you are not worried about my brother's fate. You just want a pitiful vengeance. You and Ivar aren't that different after all..."

With this said, Ubbe picked up a blanket and left through the door.

He would find Hvitserk outside the walls and speak to him. He would try to beg Hvitserk to stop, to hear him... To accept back the arm ring he recovered from that mushroom seller and start over. Let go all those things, that war, Ivar, Björn, Kattegat...

There were new lands to be discovered and maybe Hvitserk could go with him. He could be by his side and leave behind all those stupid wars and past stories to get up and rebuild their life from zero.

Maybe Hvitserk could find a new lover in Kjetil's settlement... Or if things weren't right as Ubbe thought they weren't, maybe Hvitserk could help him to replace Kjetil and find the so-called golden lands he was so eager to find.

Together. Like the old times.

Maybe it was a mistake to stand beside Björn such as it was a mistake for Hvitserk to jump that boat... Maybe now Ubbe could forgive Hvitserk's crime if Hvitserk was able to forgive him as well.

He followed all the traces he could in the snow. Steps, drops of blood, water... Anything that could lead to his enchained brother, banished that awful way.

Things could be right once again.

Things could change once again and they could leave everything behind.

Ubbe's steps followed the trail to the river, finding some small drops of blood near the margin. His heart became heavy in his chest.

Could his brother had drowned himself begging the waters to relieve his pain and take him to his beautiful Thora as that fire didn't do?

Ubbe ran to a nearby cliff, trying to find something in the water that could lead him to his brother's fate, but his eyes landed in a small group of boats. He lowered himself at the cliff, noticing they weren't local boats, but foreigners looking around. And so, he was able to see...

Laid in the bow of one of those boats.

He would never mistake that face... Different clothes, but was still the same he could remember: his little brother, Ivar. He was alive and closer than never from Kattegat with those foreigners Ubbe could bet were the Rus his men were talking about.

But what really crushed his heart causing him to lose all hope in his soul was to see who was laid beside Ivar in that boat...

Covered in a blanket, warm among pelts and a new cloak, there was his little brother. And this time he couldn't condemn him from finding warmth in another's arms.

He had abandoned his little brother all alone.

He had chosen to agree with that stupid plan of Björn's.

He had watched silently as his little brother was dragged away from him.

And now...

Now it was too late to have him back.

All the dreams of a new beginning away from their cursed homelands were gone with that boat. And Ubbe lowered his head. His hand pressing the blanket unused in between his fingers.

There wasn't a reason to keep himself there anymore.

Ivar had won. And soon, he knew, he would be coming for Kattegat as well. With Hvitserk by his side.

But this time he wouldn't fight his little ones...

This time he wouldn't be there.

"I couldn't save you... But I won't fight you, Hvitserk... I won't fight you..."

His not so rushed steps came back to the town disappointed. The blanket left behind along with his hopes.

That evening, even with the ice, Ubbe was departing to Iceland once again alone in that boat. But decided to never come back to his old life once again.

If he couldn't save Hvitserk, then... He wouldn't stand in his way.

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|| @directionlessbuthappy​ || @akamaiden​ || @bang-kim-bap​ || @cris101071​ || @elysias-temple​ || @alicedopey​ || @captstefanbrandt || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ || @lol-haha-joke​ || @normatural​ || @readsalot73​ || @rekdreams247​ || @slutforasoldier || @naaladareia​ || @laketaj24​ || @therealcalicali​ || @grungyblonde​ || @arses21434​ || @honestsycrets​ || @rabeccablake || @2thequietone4​ || @blackspiritshake​ || @vikingsbifrost​ || @sincerelysinister || @lyanna-the-giantsbane​ || @isthat-tyra98​ || @medievalfangirl​ || @littledeadrottinghood || @thiahilmarsdottir​ || @queenbeeta​ || @winchesterwife27​ || @gold-dragon-slayer​ ||  @mzliterarydreamer​ || @alwaysbenhardysgirl​ || @marvelouuse​ || @lif3snotouttogetyou​ || @lordsexmachine​ || @deathbyarabbit​ || @ietss​ || @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ ||

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[lisinfleur]

Birthday Plan

Author’s Notes | @honestsycrets Heeey, sis! Today is a special day, uh? I wish I could do all these things for you for real, and pay you a big chocolate milkshake for I just discovered you love the same flavor I love! But well, we're far away, so think about me like Thora in this little text I wrote to imagine what would be a perfect gift for the sweetest person in this world. I'm happy to be a part of your life, to be able to know such a lovely person and to have the ability to write so I can make our dreams true at least into the lines I offer you today, like a simple gift to someone who deserves the world. I love you, sis! And I wish you a happy birthday, but more than that, I wish you a happy life, health, love, and all the best! With all my love... Universe | Vikings Pairing | CEO! Ubbe x Reader Info | Modern AU, a birthday gift for @honestsycrets Words | 2459 ⁑ Warnings: Romance and fluffy.

 You woke up alone in your bed. A king size bed Ubbe had bought for your moments together, but that you were enjoying by yourself for almost a month now.

The company was expanding and Ubbe had to make a long trip to close some business and routes, warranting the Lothbroks would have exclusivity in some of the bigger sectors of his market. Or something like that... You couldn't explain exactly for you tried not to get involved in your husband's professional life and Ubbe didn't like to speak too much about the office when he was with you: you were his personal refuge from his life; his piece of paradise. And he didn't want his problems and daily stress to reach your marriage.

However, you couldn't deny your sadness this time: It was your birthday and also your marriage birthday with him. And he wasn't there to celebrate with you.

You could still remember two years ago when he surprised you and the whole world and press by planning everything to propose you in your surprise birthday party when he was already prepared to turn everything into the gorgeous wedding party you had with him as soon as you said yes.

He was always the more attentive of the lovers and maybe it was the reason why you accepted receiving nothing but a message in your phone apologizing for his absence one more time.

You got up and went to your bathroom, taking a good bath to start your day. Dressed in a comfortable dress, you were thinking about asking something for your breakfast when your bells ringed, surprising you since it was too early for someone to risk a visit.

"Good morning, sister," Sigurd smiled at your door when you opened it, invading your apartment with a beautiful bouquet of red roses and white lilies in a beautiful contrast that he placed on your table, already on a glass jar with water to keep the beautiful flowers alive.

  A beautiful gift... But strange coming from your brother in law, eight in the morning...

"Sigurd..." you started but he only smiled.

"Go get dressed. Your breakfast will be served in half of an hour and I'm sure you don't want to get late."

Breakfast?

"What is going on?" you asked, but Sigurd only pushed you softly by your shoulders towards your room.

"Trust me. Just go. Ah, by the way... Here," he said, offering you a small envelope with the card of the bouquet.

You opened it when you were already on your room, completely stunned by the unexpected situation in your living room. But your whole confusion melted with the words on that card written by the beautiful calligraphy of your loving husband.

 "I hope you enjoy the small surprises I prepared for you today, my love. I may not be by your side right now, but my love will always find a way to reach you, no matter how. With love and forever yours, Ubbe."

 That silly one...

You got dressed in a better dress, some comfortable shoes, and prepared your hair, hearing someone more was with Sigurd at the living room. When you returned, Thora was chatting with your brother in law and smiled at your sight, coming to hug you softly and gently like she was by nature.

"Happy birthday, sister! I'm so happy to be a part of this for you!" she said softly, confusing you again.

"A part of this?" you said.

Then, the smiles in their faces and the plural in Ubbe's words made the math in your mind: "Small surprises" he said. Probably the bouquet was just the first one.

"Come. Ivar is waiting on the car to take you where you were supposed to be. Don't worry about your apartment. Thora will stay for a while and we lock it for you. It's part of Ubbe's plan, come with me."

Ubbe's plan... You almost giggled with Sigurd's words, touching with tenderness the flowers of your beautiful bouquet before leaving with him.

Ivar was waiting indeed at the car and Sigurd opened the door for you, however, he didn't get in.

"You won't come with me?" you asked, and Sigurd smiled.

"I'll stay and help Thora. Ivar will take you through the way and Hvitserk must be waiting for you there. Have a nice day, sister. And happy birthday!"

Ivar moved with the car before you could question more things. He didn't seem to be too happy about being the driver, but there he was for his brother and you. You smiled.

"Thank you for this, Ivar."

"I'm here only because this is for you. I would buy you a gift, but then Ubbe asked me to be a part of this and I have to admit, it was clever. I'm sure you'll be happy at the end of this whole surprise, so I think I can be a chauffeur for a day."

You couldn't avoid smiling at his words.

Ivar guided the whole way to the center of the city and parked in front of your favorite restaurant in the town. They had meals throughout the whole day and you just LOVED the chocolate milkshake they made.

When you arrived, Ivar didn't leave the car.

"Let me guess... another task to do?" you joked and he curved his lips.

"I'll help Thora and Sigurd with the second part of Ubbe's plan. While we do this, go inside and search for Hvitserk. He's waiting for you and probably already eating. Happy birthday, by the way."

You smiled at him and left to the restaurant seeing when Ivar turned on the car leaving once again.

The truth was that you were starting to be curious about Ubbe's plans for your day, but the first real surprise came when you found Hvitserk sitting near the whole mounted table with a complete breakfast for you. The special one you once told Ubbe you would like to have someday in that restaurant, with everything you could be happy to have at your disposal in a breakfast table.

  Hvitserk smiled and you heard the sound of a picture being taken in his phone.

"Ubbe will be happy with your reaction. Happy birthday, sis" he said, giggling at your surprised expression.

"Oh my gosh, this is so beautiful!"

You took your seat and Hvitserk kissed your cheek, smiling before taking his seat back near his own plate after giving you a second envelope with another message from Ubbe.

This time, you opened it with a smile, already knowing it was something from your beloved husband.

 "I wish I was there to share this moment with you. But I hope you like this small treat. Eat properly. Your next surprise shall be a little bit longer and I think you'll like to be well fed for it.

P.S.: Don't let Hvitserk steal your bacon strips! :)"

 You giggled, really enjoying the ideas Ubbe had prepared for that day. You dug on your food with pleasure, enjoying the delicious breakfast he provided you. And when you were satisfied, you smiled at your brother in law.

"Ready?" he asked, with a playful smile.

"Did he recruited all of you for this?" you asked, giggling.

"Every single one of us," he answered, sending a message from his phone before getting up from the table. "Ivar will pick you up at the door of the restaurant. I hope you enjoy your time, sister. Happy birthday once again." Hvitserk said, hugging you tight and walking with you to the door where Ivar was just stopping the car. Thora and Sigurd were inside and Hvitserk opened the door for you before Thora came out to stay at the restaurant with him, waving at you on the car when Ivar started driving.

You were already curious to know where they were taking you this time.

"What's the next?" you asked.

"You'll see," Sigurd smiled and Ivar smiled at him through the mirror causing you to smile bigger.

"The two of you working together? Ubbe prepared something very magical this time," you joked.

"Your surprised face worth working with this one," Ivar pointed back with his thumb towards Sigurd who rolled his eyes.

"Same for you, little brother."

The trip took you some time in the car with them, but things became really surprising when the three of you arrived at the airport and Ivar parked near the gates for the charter flights.

"What are we... Sigurd?" you looked at Sigurd and Ivar giggled.

"See? It worth the price. Go. You gonna miss your plane," he said, almost laughing at your shocked face.

"Did he..."

"Chartered a plane to take you somewhere for your birthday? Yes." Ivar answered.

And you noticed Sigurd was leaving the car, messing at the trunk for a suitcase. Your suitcase!

"Thora was better to make it for she knows better what a woman needs in her suitcase," Sigurd winked at you when you understood the reason why they stayed behind in your apartment when you went to your breakfast.

"Where am I going?" you asked, coming down from the car while Ivar was sending a message from his phone to someone.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if you knew, right? Go. The plane is ready waiting for you." Ivar answered as Sigurd started taking your suitcase towards the airport. "Choo... Choo!" Ivar waved his hand for you to leave, smiling.

Sigurd was already waiting at the gates, giggling at your curiosity.

"I told Ubbe it would be funny," he said, guiding you towards the boarding.

Your suitcase was taken to the plain and Sigurd delivered you an envelope with a smile.

"Enjoy," he said, smiling while you were conducted into the plane.

You opened the message after the take-off, utterly surprised by the size that surprise was taking.

 "Things got bigger than you thought, right? It's about to become bigger, love. And yet, is not enough for what I think you deserve. Björn will receive you at your destination. Enjoy your trip, babe! :)"

 You were sure you would never expect something like this. Through the whole flight, no one told you where you were being taken and it just increased your curiosity when you landed in what looked like a private landing strip. As Sigurd said, Björn was waiting for you with a car and after hugging you, he delivered you a band to cover your eyes and an envelope.

You opened it while your brother in law was smiling and waiting.

 "This is the last of the surprises I prepared for you, love. But I want it to be a real surprise so Björn will give you a band to cover your eyes while he brings you to the right place. I hope you enjoyed the whole day and what I did to you. I love you. Happy Birthday. Yours truly, Ubbe."

 The game was coming to an end and you had to admit you were kinda sad for it. It was an amazing birthday and a lovely game you loved to play. To be a perfect birthday, the only thing missing was Ubbe's presence, you thought, but you also had to admit he covered his absent with a beautiful plan for your day.

You accepted the band from Björn's hands and he smiled.

"It won't take too long. I'm sure you'll love your surprise."

You covered your eyes and after being sure you weren't seeing anything, Björn conducted you into the car and closed the door by your side. You opened a smile, thinking Ubbe was probably into that car at some moment: the seat upholstery was smelling with his perfume.

The car was turned on and you traveled for around an hour into that car, thinking, trying to imagine what would be your next surprise.

When the car stopped, you felt Björn's hands helping you to come out of the car and conducting you some steps ahead.

"Take off your shoes," he said.

But you were already excited. The sound of the sea wasn't something they could hide and you could also feel the smell of the sea breeze. A beach!

Your last surprise would be beach time, and you were sure it was the best of your birthdays when your feet touched the sand and Björn's hands got away from yours.

"Walk forward at least ten steps before taking off your band. Don't worry. Your way is clean. Happy birthday, sister," Björn said, and you did as he said, with a smile on your face, walking slowly, feeling the sand under your feet.

However, before you reached the fifth step, a pair of warm hands touched your shoulders from behind. You froze for an instant before one of those hands embraced your waist and the other caressed your face taking off the band. The embrace filling the air with Ubbe's scent around you before his voice could reach your ears softly, rushing your heart into your chest.

"Happy birthday, my love..."

You opened your eyes to see his smile. A few steps forward from you, a towel on the sand, with some candles and cushions around like a luau for two in a romantic beach near a hotel where you two were probably hosted for the night.

You remember you saw that hotel and that beach on the internet. Ubbe didn't forget how fascinated you were by the pictures of that place.

You turned yourself to him, kissing his lips deeply, feeling his arms around you tight, full of love and tenderness. When the kiss ended, he held you tight against his chest.

  "Did you enjoy your day?" he asked, almost mockingly.

"It was amazing!" you said, kissing his neck. "I thought you were on a business trip..."

"I was. But I rushed things to be able to stay here with you. This is your gift, my love. We'll stay here for a couple of weeks, just the two of us."

You smiled. A couple of weeks in the paradise with him.

"It sounds perfect!"

He smiled at you, bringing you by the hand to the towel, opening the champagne and making a toast for you before laying comfortably in one of the cushions, bringing you against him to watch the beautiful show of the sunset on the sky.

Near his body, feeling his scent, you thought that was the best birthday you ever had. You sighed, feeling his arm around you and his lips in a small kiss against your forehead. It was the best place in the world, and you weren't talking about that beach.

Inside his arms, into his embrace.

It was your place.

And It was perfect.

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Tagged ones:

@directionlessbuthappy - @akamaiden - @bang-kim-bap - @cris101071 - @solveigs-temple - @volvas-temple - @alicedopey - @athroatfullofglass - @captstefanbrandt - @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla - @dreamingsofatraveler - @heartbeats-wildly - @lol-haha-joke - @moondustmemories - @moose-squirrel-asstiel - @ms-allenbrown - @mslothbrok - @normatural - @readsalot73 - @xinyourdreamsx - @shutter-bug124 - @rekdreams247 - @sassygirl25 - @slutforasoldier - @naaladareia - @awishmyheartmakes - @laketaj24 - @that-goodgirl - @scumyeol - @neeadinghugs - @witchesandfairytales - @thevikingsheaux - @titty-teetee - @oddsnendsfanfics - @soapjay - @two-unbeatable-beaters - @mystruggledlife - @wish-i-was-a-mermaid - @therealcalicali - @carbonated-beverage - @igetcarriedawaywithyou - @grungyblonde - @come-with-me-and-imagine - @themusingofagothicsoul - @arses21434 - @honestsycrets - @princessofthalia - @funmadnessandbadassvikings - @equalstrashflavoredtrash - @rabeccablake - @darkkitty - @2thequietone4 - @blackspiritshake - @vikingsbifrost - @winchesterwife27 - @sincerelysinister - @allvikingsfanfic - @calum-hoodwinked-me - @lyanna-the-giantsbane

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[lisinfleur]

5Crowns Weekend: Ivar - MASTERLIST

Let us speak a little about Ivar, the Boneless. The real one, who inspired the character we all love in the series Vikings.

The real Ivar is, among the supposed sons of the legendary Ragnar Lothbrok, the one with the bigger variety of sources of information about his tales; which makes really hard to elaborate an introduction about him due to the number of disconnections in between the sources of his actual history.

Many sources agree he was actually the first of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok and his wife Aslaug - and not the younger one, as Hirst's work portrays at the series! Nevertheless, the curse that supposedly caused his condition was reproduced at the series in a situation pretty close to what would have been the real one: Ragnar was out to raid and Aslaug told him they should wait for three nights before consummating their marriage after his return following the long separation period. Ragnar ignored her prophecy and as a result, Ivar would have been born "without bones".

The condition that supposedly gave him the name "Boneless" is also controversial: some historians believe he was a flexible man; some relate his "bonelessness" would be assigned to sexual impotence; some say the name came due to the incapability of walking. But the most shared theory is that Ivar The Boneless was the carrier of a disease that gained a large divulgation after the presence of the character on the Vikings series: The Osteogenesis Imperfecta - a disease that affects the connective tissue due to lack of type I collagen, causing the bones to be week and easily breakable.

The Boneless could have easily inspired "The Many Faces God" from Game of Thrones for his name, Ivar, can also be spelled as Ivarr, Inguar or Inwaer; and through the sources of his history and registers of his existence, he was also known as Ivar inn Beinlausi (from the Old Norse); Hyngwar (in the Old English); Ivar Ragnarsson (since he’s described at the Ragnarssona þáttr – The Tales of the Ragnar’s Sons); Ivar The Ruthless (due to a possible mistake at the translation of his name from the Old Scandinavian – the words for Boneless and Ruthless are quite similar according to some historians); and some historians make the association in between him and the Scottish and Irish leader Ímar (Old Norse: Ívarr) who was also a Viking King and founder of the Ui Ímair or Dinasty of Ivar “which ruled much of the Irish Sea region, the Kingdom of Dublin, the western coast of Scotland, including the Hebrides and some part of Northern England, from the mid-9th century” (source: Ui Ímair - Wikipedia).

Uh! The boy has some names, uh? hahaha

Unlike the historical Ivar, there aren't many names in between the actors who played the Viking ruler at the series: Ivar was played by an unknown baby actor at the end of season 2 and through season 3, being passed to the talented hands of James Quinn Markey who played the young Ivar at season 4A until the episode 10 (The Last Ship) when a transition of time occurs and the character is delivered to our beloved Alex Høgh Andersen (Thanks to @ivarsrideordie for the tips! Love ya!).

Despite the juicy acting of James Quinn Markey who impressed by the incredible expressivity and description of Ivar's hard behavior, Alex H. Andersen has been giving us a literal show of acting, showing with precision the routine, mishaps and hard life of a person who carries the OI from the point of view of a complete actor who more than just dressing the character's skin, studied the condition deeply and made huge efforts to bring this reality into Ivar's daily life in details.

From dragging himself for more than a week, screaming in Old Norse into the hotel bedroom; to exploring the leader's dilemma between being loved or feared, described by Niccolò Machiavelli in his book "The Prince" - a book Alex show to have studied for the last season of Vikings - the young actor and amateur photographer conquered the fandom's heart becoming one of the most loved actors of the series' cast and turning his character into the most loved son of Ragnar Lothbrok - especially among the female public hahaha

Sister wives welcome to the new 5Crowns Weekend! 

Let us toast and celebrate in honor of Ivar, The Boneless!

All hail our new King!

5CW IVAR - MASTERLIST

LONG FICS

Curse – Chapter 08: Back to the Start

DOUBLE SHOTS

Winds of Change (requested by anon and @paper-goonie)

Part I

Part II

SHOTS AND DRABBLES

Knock-Kneed Fool’s Treasure (requested by anon)

Lover (requested by @ivarswickedqueen)

Sin (requested by anon)

Sweet Little Thing (requested by anon)

Beyond Time (requested by anon)

Do I have to say the words? (requested by @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla)

Like Me (requested by anon)

Refuge (requested by @cris101071)

The Snake in your Skull (requested by @ortali)

HEADCANONS

Falling for a dedicated woman of the gods (requested by anon)

Imagine being Ivarsdóttir (requested by anon)

Adopting an unexpected animal baby (requested by anon)

Breeding kink (requested by anon)

Being your first (requested by anon)

In love with Sigurd’s girl (requested by anon)

Touch starved (requested by anon)

Becoming a father too soon (requested by anon)

MOODBOARDS

Faces

Be Ruthless

AHA - Modern Ivar

If you want to be a part of our Guests' Section just drop your work using the tags:

5CW 

5CWIvar

and send me your link!

@ivarsrideordie​

His Prey - amazing shot for Alex from our beloved sweet queen!

It’s good to be home (intro) - to make all of us in-fucking-sane!

Angry is always better - uuuuh! What to say? She’s right!

This love is not for sale - one more from our beautiful queen!

@queen-see-ya-in-valhalla

Stormy cuddles with Ivar - Mood board and text from my sweet sis!

Tagged ones: 

@bluearchersstuff  - @ivarswickedqueen - @directionlessbuthappy - @akamaiden - @bang-kim-bap - @cris101071 - @solveigs-temple - @volvas-temple - @alicedopey - @athroatfullofglass - @captstefanbrandt - @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla - @ivarlcthbrok - @dreamingsofatraveler - @heartbeats-wildly - @lol-haha-joke - @mixedwiththemoon - @moondustmemories - @moose-squirrel-asstiel - @ms-allenbrown - @mslothbrok - @normatural - @readsalot73- @xinyourdreamsx - @shutter-bug124 - @rekdreams247 - @sassygirl25 - @slutforasoldier - @bae-kage - @naaladareia - @awishmyheartmakes - @laketaj24 - @that-goodgirl - @scumyeol - @neeadinghugs - @witchesandfairytales - @thevikingsheaux - @titty-teetee - @oddsnendsfanfics- @soapjay - @two-unbeatable-beaters - @mystruggledlife - @wish-i-was-a-mermaid - @therealcalicali - @natalie-rdr - @carbonated-beverage - @igetcarriedawaywithyou - @grungyblonde - @come-with-me-and-imagine - @themusingofagothicsoul - @arses21434 - @honestsycrets - @princessofthalia- @funmadnessandbadassvikings - @equalstrashflavoredtrash - @rabeccablake - @beyond-the-ashes - @darkkitty - @2thequietone4 - @blackspiritshake - @vikingsbifrost - @wallabieswisher

[lisinfleur]

5Crowns Weekend: Ivar - MASTERLIST RELEASE

Here is the previous list of all the works that will be present in my masterlist tomorrow! Stay tuned!

EVENTS

Live Q&A event at Discord with Ivar for the GHA Server

Live Q&A event at Tumblr with Ivar answering questions for you guys

LONG FICS

Curse – Chapter 08: Back to the Start (Final Chapter)

DOUBLE SHOTS

Winds of Change (requested by anon and @paper-goonie)

Part I

Part II

SHOTS AND DRABBLES

Knock-Kneed Fool’s Treasure (requested by anon)

Lover (requested by @ivarswickedqueen)

Sin (requested by anon)

Sweet Little Thing (requested by anon)

Beyond Time (requested by anon)

Do I have to say the words? (requested by @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla)

Like Me (requested by anon)

Refuge (requested by @cris101071)

The Snake in your Skull (requested by @ortali)

HEADCANONS

Falling for a dedicated woman of the gods (requested by anon)

Imagine being Ivarsdóttir (requested by anon)

Adopting an unexpected animal baby (requested by anon)

Breeding kink (requested by anon)

Being your first (requested by anon)

In love with Sigurd’s girl (requested by anon)

Touch starved (requested by anon)

MOODBOARDS

Faces

Be Ruthless

AHA - Modern Ivar

Add to this @honestsycrets masterlist and the works you guys want to put on our Guest Section and here it is: 5CWIvar!

TOMORROW!

Are you ready?

Tagged ones:

@bluearchersstuff  - @ivarswickedqueen - @directionlessbuthappy - @akamaiden - @bang-kim-bap - @cris101071 - @solveigs-temple - @volvas-temple - @alicedopey - @athroatfullofglass - @captstefanbrandt - @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla - @ivarlcthbrok - @dreamingsofatraveler - @heartbeats-wildly - @lol-haha-joke - @mixedwiththemoon - @moondustmemories - @moose-squirrel-asstiel - @ms-allenbrown - @mslothbrok - @normatural - @readsalot73- @xinyourdreamsx - @shutter-bug124 - @rekdreams247 - @sassygirl25 - @slutforasoldier - @bae-kage - @naaladareia - @awishmyheartmakes - @laketaj24 - @that-goodgirl - @scumyeol - @neeadinghugs - @witchesandfairytales - @thevikingsheaux - @titty-teetee - @oddsnendsfanfics- @soapjay - @two-unbeatable-beaters - @mystruggledlife - @wish-i-was-a-mermaid - @therealcalicali - @natalie-rdr - @carbonated-beverage - @igetcarriedawaywithyou - @grungyblonde - @come-with-me-and-imagine - @themusingofagothicsoul - @arses21434 - @honestsycrets - @princessofthalia- @funmadnessandbadassvikings - @equalstrashflavoredtrash - @rabeccablake - @beyond-the-ashes - @darkkitty​- @2thequietone4​

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