fluff - △ angst - ◯ Dividers by me🤍

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Little Doe

4,166 words

Warnings: Fluff, smut, P in V sex, oral sex (M and F receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, running away to live with a handsome Viking, talks of religious repression and arranged marriage. While this sort of fits with the cultural timeline, I must stress that it's all consensual. Period typical treatment of daughters and women.

Ragnar sees you from far away on a raid. It's love at first sight, and now he has to have you.

He had been trudging through the woods when he saw you, crouched by a stream in nothing but your undergarments washing your clothes.

He was awestruck, it was like Frigg herself had opened up a window to Valhalla to shine upon you.

The rustle of other raiders behind him pulled him out of his daydreams; you in the river, coming out with your clothes stuck to your form.

"By the Gods, she is beautiful" at that moment Ragnar hated the sound of that man's voice, you were his alone to look at, to admire.

"She's not yours to pluck Olaf, we must stay quiet or we'll reveal our position." Ragnar felt like a wolf staring down a doe, you would be his.

He gave a whispered order to the rest of his men "we have no idea how many people are in the area, we need to backtrack and go through a more dense area of forest."

His men listened without a question, he knew he was just adding hours to their journey but there was no way he would put you in their path.

"Frode take them men around the back while I stay here and check for scouts" Ragnar knew there were no scouts in the area, the men here were lazy and clearly didn't know how to fight. He was there to take a longer look at you, maybe he would even get to hear your voice.

He moved closer methodically, being careful not to make a sound, then he slipped on a loose rock.

You're head shot up at the soft sound, you have heard rumours of men from the north coming to your shores and you were prepared. Your damp clothes forgotten, you reached behind a rock to produce a sword.

Ranger watched as you took the stance of a warrior, sword held in hand like a practised expert. He felt pride spread through his chest, maybe his little doe was more of a wolf than he thought.

He slinked away, content at his first experience of your beauty.

Your POV

You were being watched, you could feel it like cold hands running up your back. A soft crack directed you towards a cluster of trees, for only a brief movement you saw a flash of white flesh and the outline of a large man.

A realisation of both fear and excitement crossed over you, the Northmen were here.

"I saw a man in the trees this morning father." You had mentioned it in passing while you chopped the vegetables, your Father was sitting in a wooden chair doing nothing, as usually.

"It's was probably one of the boys spying on you, I really wish you would wash from the well, you will dishonour my good name if you keep it up."

You hated the man, he was a lazy, rude, drunk. Not only that, but he was planning on marrying you off to the highest bidder the moment your older brother left. You were already late to marry, having turned down every suiter at your door, your Father would be very displeased if he found out you had no plans on marrying the man he had lined up for you.

A/N: this is kinda bad in my opinion, so, I’m sorry anon.

Ragnar as Y/N father

You creeped behind the large throne of your father, he had been sitting there all day, talking with people, feasting, drinking, almost sleeping too. Your hands softly rested on the sides of the chair, and your head popped out from the side, "father!"

"Oh!" Ragnar's blue hues looked toward you, you could see the faint sign of relief in his face, "it is you."

You smiled, coming around the edge of the chair to face him. You frowned, kneeling on the side, resting your head on the arm rest, "I'm bored!"

He rolled his eyes, "Kattegat not treasure nuff for my child?"

"Is it ever?"

He smiled, sitting up and resting a hand on your hair, "go with Ubbe, or Bjorn, shoot arrows or play."

You let out a groan, "Ubbe is with a slave girl, and Bjorn is no where to be found."

"Hvitserk?" You shook your head, "Sigurd?"

"Playing music."

"Ivar?"

You furrowed your brows, "has Ivar ever asked to play with me?"

He smiled, brushing your hair away from your face. You were the second youngest child, and it seemed to young to be around Ubbe, Hvitserk, or Bjorn, while too old for Ivar. "Go find your mother? She will play."

You whined, "fatherrr," a frown smearing your lips, "I wish to play with you."

He frowned, opening his arms for his only daughter to climb upon his lap, "Come here, I will tell you a story then?"

You moved your brows together, a look of disgust on your face, "a story? Daddy, I do not wish to hear another story about your raid in England."

He smiled, "the gods shun your cockiness."

"I have heard every story to leave your lips, I seem to be unamused now."

He looked offended, "then what do you wish to do little one?"

You smiled, moving to whisper in his ear. Though, instead of your soft voice escaping your lips, you left a wet spot on the side of his cheek, making sure not to touch his the whiskers on the edge of his beard. You giggled as you pulled off him, standing in front of him, "did you just lick me?"

"Father," your face turned serious, "I would never do such a thing.”

A small, wicked smile creeped across his face, “my child,” he stood from his throne, “those who mess with a king will be punished.”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile, “but those adored by him shall prosper,” you remember him telling you that, in hopes you would learn to never double cross a king.

He laughed, “I’m gonna get you Y/N!” Jumping down from the steps, you ran past him. The thick fabrics separating the hall from the back didn’t form any resistance as you ran through them. Rushing to find a suitable place to hide, as you could hear your father’s steps behind you, “Y/N, I can hear you!” Ragnar rushed through the red fabrics, a rush of adrenaline coursing through him as he began his search.

You dashed under a wooden table, but soon you could feel your giggles escaping your lips as you heard him stop, sensing where you were within the room. You quickly moved your hands to your lips, attempting to conceal the noises escaping from you.

When you heard him walk closer, your grip only got tighter. He stopped again, this time, you could see his brown boats from under the fur.

He took a moment, before bending down, slowly lifting the light grey fabrics to reveal the wicked smile painted on his face, “when will you learn you cannot run from me my child?” Your eyes widened as you attempted to get out of the encasing table, “oh no you don’t.” He gripped your wrist, and in one swift motion, you were picked up by him, his hands creating a burning feeling within your stomach.

“Stop!” You kept laughing, his fingers dancing other the fabric of your dress, “daddy stop!”

He pulled away, “do not lick a king,” his eyes were wide as his serious face was broken with a smile. He lifted his pointer finger to tickle your exposed neck, making you fall into him. He smiled, kissing your head, “c’mon,” he began to walk you towards the main hall, “we shall see what your brothers are doing.”

Synopsis: One night Ragnar has a casual hook up with a young bartender in New York. He expects this to be their only encounter. He’s dead wrong.

Pairing: Modern!Ragnar x Reader

Warnings: Smut

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He was beautiful. He may have been at least two decades older but it hardly felt like it in bed. His body was sculpted like a Greek statue, an ddespite the forming wrinkles, he was one of the most attractive men in the bar that night.

It had been rainy, and an altogether high traffic evening; everyone from travelers to people getting off of work popped in for a drink. The job had its perks, so occasionally I would get to meet local celebrities or athletes no one really knew of. What I didn’t expect was to serve scotch to the man that owned more than half the town.

My hand grips the bottle as I pour a double for the man in the suit. Talk about a high profile customer. Jessica had claimed she had once served Britney Spears, but nobody actually believed her. I slide over the glass and set the bottle back down in its place.

“Midnight on a Tuesday, and you’re buying drinks in a run down bar. So, how bad was today?” I ask, leaning on my hand as I wait for an answer. The man gives a sly smirk and sighs.

“Actually, it wasn’t bad. It was horrible. A dozen workers quit today and then on top of all of that my car was stolen. So, shit day if you ask me.” He responds, and I nod, pouting another glass for him as he finishes his first.

“That sounds pretty horrible, but, the upside is that the good days feel better after the shit days.” I respond, cleaning off a spot farther down the bar and watching as the last customer leaves. The man looks around, and then at a sign behind me.

“I guess you are right young lady, beautiful and witty. Tell me, you have a husband? A fiancé?” He inquires, and I blush slightly as I shake my head. Of course I wasn’t supposed to hookup with the customers, but one this hot, I’d have to make an acception for.

“No sir, just me. Long shifts and college classes don’t leave much time for socializing. I’m lucky to be able to have enough time to sit down and have a real meal once a week.” I confide and pour myself a glass of water. As I turn around I can feel his eyes glued to my ass.

“Hmm... so, how about you head home with me? Assuming you have no kids or houseplants back at home. We can both relieve some tension.” He smirks and holds out a hand. I smile and continue closing up before walking to the door with him.

“This is totally against any rules we have here but let’s do it.” I smile and follow the man out the door. Could he be a serial killer? Yes. Could he be a rapist? Yes. But he’s so cute, so I ignore my inner voices and leave with him.

He guides me to what I can only assume is an incredibly expensive car, and helps me into the passenger seat. We drove to an neighborhood that looks like something out of a movie, and he pulls up to a large home. He helps me out and leads me into the home.

We walk inside of the building and I marvel at the lavishly decorated walls. All tasteful, and no doubt quite expensive. “Wow, this is a beautiful home...” I trail off, searching for a name.

“Thank you. You can call me Ragnar. Daddy gets me worked up too so feel free to call me that. And what shall I call you young lady?” He smirks as he leads me to the kitchen, bringing a bottle of wine out from under the counter and pouring two glasses.

I blush ever so slightly at his comment, and smile, sitting down on barstools across from him. “Oh, my name is (Y/N). You can call me that.” I grin and take the glass as he slides it across the granite towards me.

“Beautiful name. Fitting for such a beautiful woman.” He comments, finishing up his glass of wine before refilling mine. The two of us make small talk as we finish not two, but grew bottles of wine. By the end of the second bottle I’ve started to let my guard down, and have started to trust him more than I had originally.

Halfway through the third bottle I start to feel hot, so naturally I remove my jacket, and then my shirt. I watch as Ragnar hawks at my chest, and grab his hand, standing on somewhat shaky legs. “Cmon Daddy. Let’s go somewhere comfy.” I say, tugging on his arm in no particular direction.

Clearly the older man holds his wine better than I do, so he guides us to a bedroom, where he lays me on the plush bed. I watch as his fingers quickly unbutton the black buttons lining his shirt, and smirk as the shirt hits the floor. He kneels over me and I shimmy out of my jeans, helping him to unzip his pants and push them off of his hips. After a few heated kisses and a few accidental elbow jabbings, we’re both naked horny messes.

Ragnar’s heavy breath fans against my face as his large hands reach down to rub my clit. “What should I do first?” He asks, more speaking to himself than me, I assure myself. I watch as two of his large fingers delve into my dripping hole. After what feels like only a second, he swiftly removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock.

Surely I must have miscalculated its size, because by the time his shaft it about halfway emerged into my heat, I feel more full that I ever have. My quiet moans aren’t enough for him, so his voice finally booms out about the sounds of skin slapping and nearly silent moans and groans.

“Say my name. Say my name. Fuck- so tight- so good.” He groans out before burying his head into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my shoulder. I whimper and let my nails dig farther into his shoulder.

“R-Ragnar! Fuck! Please- fuck me harder please!” I beg him, watching as a pleased look spreads across his face, and his hips piston harder into mine, leaving me feeling even more full, of that’s even possible.

His hips slamming into mine and his finger persistently circling my clit lead me to my orgasm quicker than expected. I feel his hot semen fill my belly only seconds after my own orgasm, and after a quick second of panick, I calm, assuring myself that this hookup couldn’t get me pregnant. I’m on the pill. He pulls out and pumps himself, shooting his remaining load onto my chest and stomach.

By the time his body falls next to mine in bed, I’m sleeping, after a long shift and a good fuck, I can’t keep my eyes open, and in the comfortable bed I find myself asleep in seconds.

I wake early, earlier than him, and collect my clothing, scrambling down the marble stairs to retrieve my shoes and jacket. I check my phone and see that it’s well past 8. I’m late for my lecture, shit. I’m out of the house in ten minutes. Hopefully he doesn’t remember me, I sure as hell don’t want him to.

After one hell of a pleasant night, and 6 unpleasant months of pregnancy, I’m now the heavily pregnant bartender. My boss knows that I need to hours with a baby on the way and no father in the picture, so he lets me work the slower days when I won’t get people critisizing me for working in a bar while carrying a child.

It’s Sunday, nearly 5pm, our slowest time, so I sit down behind the bar and munch on some peanuts, waiting for customers. Just before closing, a man comes in with a heavy raincoat on. I know I recognize him just by the way he walks. So confident. So sure of every step. He sits down at the bar and my eyes dart up.

“What can I get you, sir?” I ask and my smile slowly drops as I finally get a good look at his face. I see his face doesn’t hold a smile either.

“How about a fucking explanation? What kind of bullshit move is this? Who set you up to this? You don’t think I haven’t had attention whore gold diggers try this before?” He berated me with questions and I feel sick and attacked, tears welling in my eyes. I go to defend myself and he immediately cuts me off.

“You planned this all, didn’t you. It must have been your fucking plan to have your face on the magazines, huh? Yeah? I hope you don’t expect me to pay shit unless I see a paternity test. This is fucking ridiculous!” He yells, not giving me a second to talk. By the time he’s finished yelling, the cook has come out from the back and is staring at the man. He walks over, telling Ragnar that he can’t speak to the workers that way, and asks him to leave. After a while, he storms out. I close up, tears still running down my face, and grab my bag.

I walk out of the back door and see him again. My feet carry me faster towards my apartment and I hear the patter of his feet getting closer. I have a sudden rush of confidence and stop abruptly, turning around.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, embarrassing me at work and making me feel like shit. I didn’t plan to get knocked up by you, because hey, newsflash, you’re a real assholes I don’t want a penny of child support and I sure as hell don’t want to be anywhere near you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Why do you think I never got in contact? I’m just fine raising him on my own , thank you. Now please fuck off. Thank you.” I yell back at him and walk faster towards my apartment. When I arrive I see him a still trailing me, but when I glance back once again, he’s gone.

I spend the next month trying to forget him, and forget the fact that my son will be born without a father. Sure, it’ll be hard, but since dropping out I’ve had a lot more money to buy nursery furniture and clothing for him, and I can start working regular days once my bump goes away. I assure myself that out little family would be alright.

That’s when it happens. On the way home from work te car comes speeding down the street and I feel as if I’m watching from outside of my body as the vehicle strikes me, leaving me on the hot asphalt. Blood drips down into my mouth as I lay there, and I feel a pair of arms embrace me as I lose conciousness.

When I wake, I’m in a hospital bed, and I look around the room to see a bouquet of beautiful pink and white flowers. Surely I’d had no visitors. Who visits a pregnant bartender? The answer to that question walks right in the door with a bottle of water not a minute later. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and even though he looks like hell, it’s still a nice look on him.

He rushes to my side and gives me a sad smile. “Hey, the baby is okay. He’s doing great. I’m sorry about all the shit I said. You know, I get it if you don’t want to forgive me. I’d understand. But please let me help with my son. Let me pay for the medical bills and pay for whatever he needs and if you don’t want to let me see him, fine. But please let me help.” He whispers and I can see the gear streaming down his face.

“How did you find me?” I ask, straightening in my bed. His eyes look down, avoiding my gaze, and he sighs.

“I had... I had my men, my security following you. To make sure that you were both safe. I’m glad a did. God knows how long you might have been there. Hours? We were just in time. He’s okay, didn’t feel a thing.” He says, and even though the thought of this asshole being in my sons life slightly upsets me, I feel comforted that he wants to help raise his son.

“No money. Just help. Just help me get to appointments and help me with the new Mom stuff. Maybe a month’s rent but I’ll pay you back for anything. I have to admit I was pissed at how you acted at first but I guess I understand where you were coming from. If you want to be in his life, I’m not going to stop you.” I say, and take a deep breath in, watching as his arms wrap around my small figure.

“Thank you. Thank you.” He whispers as he buries his face into my hair.

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His breathe was stolen from him the moment he laid eyes upon her. He met her upon his travels. Her lush dark hair, as black as a raven’s wings. With eyes equally as dark which stood out against her sun kissed skin. Her father, the king, invited them into their court during their duration there. Her father was no fool. He willingly gave the vikings gold and treasure. But Ragnar, the only treasure he desired was her.

One day he could no longer stay away. He met her in the garden. Her long black hair blew in the breeze. Standing there she raised her hand to his eyes. There at the curve of her palm just below her thumb…was a mark. He gasped as a tear fell down his cheek as he raised his own palm. He bore the same mark. A mark he had since he could remember. Their hands joined and the marks touched sending waves of warmth through them. Ragnar’s heart never felt so full. Locking his eyes with her he stepped closer his other hand cupped her face. He knew she possibly wouldn’t understand a word he said, but, they didn’t need to. She took his hand and placed it at her chest so he could feel her heart. Her smile was warm and loving as another tear fell down his cheek. His forehead found hers as they stood there just listening to the beating of their hearts.

For weeks Ragnar and his men lived in luxury in the court of his love. Until this time, Ragnar never believed in the whole Soulmate idea. Even when Floki had proclaimed that he had found his in his beloved Helga. Only when he had looked upon his love, did he finally believe. When he saw the matching mark it only further solidified she was in fact his soulmate. However it would not last. Her father, no matter how much he liked Ragnar, would not allow him to marry his daughter. Not yet at least. This gave Ragnar a sense of hope yet his heart was filled with grief when he had to return home.

“Don’t forget me..” he begged to her in her native tongue. He had quickly learned so he could understand her words.

“I will never…” She said before he felt her put something around his wrist. Glancing down he saw a braided band of hair. Hair as black as a ravens wing. His eyes snapped back up to hers as he found the lock from which the hair was cut. “To remember me by. When you are sad…” Her voice was soft and gentle as she touched his cheek. Ragnar held it to his fave as he kissed the mark upon her palm.

“I, will never forget you. I will come back…and I will marry you. We will have a family…” he vowed before he kissed her. His hands wrapped around her waist holding her tight.

“Ragnar!” He heard his men call to him.

RAGNAR!

Ragnar’s eye fluttered open as he looked up and saw the wooden door opening. The snakes hissing around him as he saw the shadowy figures of men in armor surrounding the opening in the ground. “We found him!!” His body was being raised from the pit and as he lost consciousness he felt as if he were ascending into Valhalla.

However, when he was to awaken, he found himself in a tent. A damp cloth being pressed to his face and head. “Rest my love…” That voice…his sweet love was with him. His hand tried to grasp her but was laid back down. “Rest my love…” her voice echoed before allowing him to fall asleep once more. He did not know how long he had slept. He could hear voices all around him. He heard the names of his family…his sons. Ubbe…Sigurd…Hvitserk…Ivar and Bjorn. Were they all here?

“You have been very stupid Ragnar…” he heard that voice and haunting cackle. Floki…were they all in Valhalla with him?

Finally his eyes opened and he looked about the tent in which he lay. “So, the king lives.” Ragnar turned and looked only to see his dear friend Floki.

“I must be dead if I am seeing your ass here.” Floki cackled as he walked closer. “You missed a hell of a battle Ragnar. Your son’s fought to avenge you. King Aelle is dead. They performed the Blood Eagle and we are victorious.”

“Then I have done something right for once in my life…” He chuckled as he tried to sit up. “God I feel older than I am.” He looked about the tent. “Where is she?”

“You’re raven beauty?” Floki chuckled “She is outside. Ever the royal she is. She is playing chess with Ivar.” He cackled again as he saw Ragnar’s eyes widen in shock. Ivar was the hottest temper. Yet the idea of them playing chess…it was something Ivar loved. With Floki’s help he stood and walked out. Standing at the entrance of the tent he saw his love with his youngest son. They were in the heat of conversation. Ivar asked her anything and everything about her country. He walked up behind her letting his fingers cross along the back of her neck.

Ivar watched the interaction. His eyes catching sight of the matching marks on their left hands. Ivar knew that Floki believed in soulmates and now, Ivar believed to. Looking across the way, he saw the hatred in Lagertha’s eyes. This made Ivar smirk. He liked the foreigner lady. She was kind, she played chess with him and talked with him as if he was a normal man. He chuckled as he sipped his ale as he watched his father and his love.

The two then went on a walk together. “My first wife has taken over Kattegat.” Ragnar told her from what he had heard. “I am no longer King and I have no wish to return.” They walked together hand in hand…arm in arm. “I can not be away from you a moment longer. I will let her have it. My place is with you.”

She smiled and caressed his face. “You my love, took the words from my lips. Come back with me. Come home…” she whispered before Ragnar captured her lips in a long awaited passionate kiss. Their arms wrapped around one another holding tight.

“I want to go home…” He begged before kissing her again and again. And so, Ragnar returned to the court of his love. There, in the presence of his closest friends and his sons, Ragnar married his soulmate. Months later, his love gave birth to their first child. A son.

Over the years Ragnar’s life became one of utter peace and happiness. He had five more sons, and three daughters. His life in Kattegat a far gone memory. His four five eldest sons visited often. Ivar having particularly taken a protective eye over his little sisters. 

When Ragnar Lothbrok finally died he was buried in a beautiful grave surrounded by lush greenery. His love joined him in death. Upon their joined graves flowers grew which lived as long as his bloodline. Ragnar Lothbrok had lived and had finally found his true happiness. 

Warnings: Fluff

Synopsis: When Ragnar’s young wife resumes work as a lawyer, he is forced to stay home with his newborn twins. He knows little about raising children, and everyday is a battle with the growing girls.

Word Count: 1,374

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“You’ll be fine, I promise. You kept the boys alive, right? They’ll be okay, and I’ll be back before dinner.” Ragnar hears in response to his pleas for his wife to stay home with the children. They’re only five months old, and Ragnar recognizes how delicate the two blue eyed baby girls seem compared to the five sons he had held.

“Baby, they’re so... fragile. What if one of them just stops breathing, or gets sick... or... something happens. I just want to keep them safe.” Ragnar admits with a small pout beginning to form on his cleanly shaven face. He stifles a laugh as his cheeks are pinched together and kissed by his wife as she teases him about his soft spot: his daughters.

“I’ll say this one more time. They’ll be alright babe. They’ll fuss at first but you know the feeding schedule, and you know the nap times. I dressed them in different clothes so you don’t mix them up. You’ll all three be fine. If you need any help I would call Ubbe. Love you!” She pecks his cheeks once more before pressing light kisses to the pink foreheads of her sleeping daughters. The sound of her high heels tapping against the hardwood floor as she exits the home wakes the youngest daughter, her blue eyes fluttering open, and within seconds, her mouth flies open, letting a loud cry escape.

Ragnar has experience with children. Not tons, but he knows his children, and he knows this cry. Little Ingrid already senses her mother’s absence and lets out a loud wail to let everyone in the neighborhood know that yes, she does miss her Mommy.

“Little one, be quiet... please?” Ragnar scoops the baby into his arms and sits in the rocking chair next to the soft pink crib. When he sits in the chair it makes soft creaking sounds, no doubt struggling against his large figure. After his worries of the chair snapping in two disappear, he hums some Disney princess song to his daughter and let’s her tiny fingers embrace one of his large ones as she drifts off to sleep once again. He himself begins to feel tired, but doesn’t fully trust himself to sleep and hold his daughter, so instead, he decided to turn on the tv.

“Hope you two don’t mind football.” Ragnar mutters to the sleeping babies as he watches the game intensely. After getting a bit too excited at a goal, and making a loud yell, the babies cry in sync. He curses to himself and picks up the older daughter, balancing the two girls in his arms carefully, hoping his wife would be soon. After a glance at the clock on the wall, he once agin cursed himself, and after finally getting one daughter to calm, he grabs his phone and opens a text to his son Ubbe in desperation -My house, babies crying. Bring burgers. ASAP. - he types quickly with one hand and sends the blue message.

After being read at 11:26, Ubbe leaves the message that way, and speeds over to grab food for his father.Although he has a family of his own, he still is very close to his father, and he knows that his fifty some year old father is having a somewhat difficult time taking care of two newborn babies on his own now that his wife is working.

After letting himself in with his spare key, Ubbe wanders to the soft pink nursery at the top of the dark wooden stairs. He brings the greasy bag and sets it on the counter, wiping his hands on his jeans and holding them out to the baby in his father’s hands. Ragnar quickly hands off his youngest daughter and mutters a greeting to his son.

Ubbe takes the girl into his hands, and places a kiss to her wrinkly forehead, cracking a smile when she lets out a shrieky giggle and grabs ahold of his beard.

“Damn it little sister, you had to go for the beard huh? I see why Dad shaved his. You got the baby grabby hands. I remember when Little Jordan had those, must have ripped out half a dozen of her mama’s earrings, I swear.” Ubbe says, gently easing her little fists out of his beard and sitting down on the adjacent bright pink couch.

“Thank you for actually coming, Ubbe. I thought about asking Hvitserk, but you know he never reads his texts, or answers his phone for that matter.” Ragnar says as he pats the back of the sleeping baby on his chest. She lets out a grunt and adjusts her head on her father’s chest before falling asleep again.

“It’s going to be hard with her working again. What is she working? Four twelves or five tens?” Ubbe asks his father, using the small towel next to him to wipe the slobber on his sister’s cheek. Ragnar lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Better, six twelves. She’s a workaholic and is insisting that she ‘Get back into the game’. I personally don’t see the attraction to work. I have enough to support us all, and yet she’s still fighting about working. Women confuse me.” Ragnar sighs as he takes a swig of the beer next to him. After hearing this, Ubbe gives him a stern look and clears his throat.

“You know she only wants to work to feel like she’s contributing, that’s how my wife was after the kids were born. And I swear father, you can’t drive this one off. Don’t even mention the thought of it. You have two daughters to raise, and you have to set a good example, or they won’t know how to be treated by men.” He explains, and in the moment, Ubbe is so full of wisdom that for a second if almost seems like he’s the father sitting in the pale pink nursery. The two of them continue to talk, even flicking on some talking animal cartoon for the girls to watch as they prepare the bottles of milk for them. After burping and diaper changes, they are back to sleep.

Ubbe sips a glass of wine next to his father, as they sit in opposite chairs, comparing pictures on their phones of their adorable children. When the front door opens and the alarm lets out a quiet chirp, Ragnar stands up and darts to the door, embracing his wife and rambling about the day before she has a chance to get a word out. Ubbe follows suit, carrying the empty beer bottles downstairs and throwing them in the glass bin, giving his step-mother a hug and heading out. Ragnar sits down with her on the couch as the twins sleep peacefully.

“How was your day my love? Did you guys do something special to celebrate you being back? A luncheon?” He asks, gently brushing his wife’s dark hair as she kicks off her heels and takes off her shirt.

“I’m utterly exhausted. My boobs leaked this morning, And I had to walk around with a coffee stain to pretend that I wasn’t some leaking cow. The girls are going out tonight, but I’m not invited because I have ‘Mommy duties’ to do.” She lets out an angered growl and Ragnar pulls back a bit.

“Hey, it’s not that bad, they’re bitches anyway babe. You at least have me. We can watch a nice relaxing movie and have some nice dinner while the kiddos sleep.” He says, brushing the hair out of her face. Upon hearing about the kids, she insists that they go to check up on the newborns.

Not to her surprise, the girls are sleeping happily and their cribs, and Ragnar follows, leaning on the doorframe.

“See, I told you they’d be fine. They’re hot as fragile as you thought. I’m not that bad of a papa, I have to say.” Ragnar states proudly, and his wife gives him a quick kiss.

“It was you that thought you couldn’t do it, but I knew you could. Let’s eat dinner before they wake up again, yeah?” She asks as she sneaks down the stairs.