Why is there barely any Ragnar x reader fics dammit

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Why is there barely any Ragnar x reader fics dammit

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Blank Pages pt 3
Pairing: Ivar x Reader, OC x Reader
Word Count: 2,611
Warnings: slightly ooc writing, my timeline is all mixed up with the shows.
Authorâs note: Coming back from a second, long hiatus. This story ended up having way more parts than I thought it would. Iâm timing the next two parts to be released weekly and âA Proposalâ will be updated on Wednesdays ! If you want to be taken off of the taglist just shoot me a message.
Summary: An old face brings back heartbreak and the hope of success to avenge Ragnar.
Masterlist
Pt 1 // Pt 2
âEveryone. Please, meet my lovely wifeââ as her face came into view Ivar whispered her name at the same time that Earl Erik shouted it to the room âY/Nâ
A huge smile was planted on Y/N's face, as she looked around at the surprised brothers who all in turn looked toward Ivar. Her eyes followed theirs and landed on the last man she thought she would ever see again. She had heard whispers here and there, but none that were anything concrete. Yet, there he was, sitting down, eyes pointed at her, lips parted, staring as if she was an illusion that would disappear if he blinked. Erik grabbed her hand in his and pulled her closer to the table, their thrall trailing a bit far behind her, before finding an empty seat not too far away from where they now stood. âYou all know Y/Nâ he chuckled, as his arm settled softly around her waist. The brothers all cautiously nodded, eyes still glued on Ivar, who hadnât said a word. This would explain all the glances at Ivar from Erik throughout the evening, even when he wasnât talking. They had all assumed Ivarâs big mouth had just made the man dislike him. The tense shoulders and pointed looks however must have been because he knew of Ivar and Y/N, it made sense to the brothers now.
âY/Nâ Ivar finally muttered again after some time of them just staring at each other. The name felt so foreign on his tongue, he hadnât spoken it in so long, finally having accepted that he would never see her again and yet, there she was, finally within his reach again.
Obsession
Pairing:Â Former Bjorn x Reader; Ubbe x Reader
Warnings: Short NSFW scene in the beginning, cheating, lowkey stalking? maybe a curse word
Word Count: 4.6k
Authorâs note: Thank you guys for being patient with me. I am working on my other fics I promise, Iâve just had some writers block and I finally managed to finish this one ! Let me know if you like it !
Summary: What happens when Bjorn breaks your heart for the last time?
Masterlist
âBjorn Ironside, if you donât control yourself..â her voice slowly faded into a giggle as her boyfriend's hand rested on her thigh, slowly moving up while they were at a feast with his family to celebrate his return from a raid.Â
âYouâll what?â He asked with a chuckle as his nose pressed to the side of her cheek, his fingers tracing the inside of her thigh. Before she could answer, they heard someone clear their throat as they called his name. âHmm?â He pulled his face away from hers, but his hand stayed where it was.Â
âDo you plan on going back?â Ubbe repeated his question with a smirk, seeing his brotherâs hand nowhere in sight and his girlfriend squirming. Her face was flushed and she tried to drink from her cup but gasped softly as Bjorn got closer up. Everyone turned to look in her direction and her cheeks got even more red.Â
âExcuse me. Iâm not feeling too wellâ she stood up and smoothed out her dress. She departed with a smile, clearly embarrassed. After responding to his brotherâs question, he wiped his mouth and stood up âI better go check on her. Make sure sheâs okayâÂ
Hvitserk laughed âPlease donât keep us up all night !â He yelled after his brother who winked at him and ran out.Â
Mine, Not Ours
Pairing: Hvitserk x Reader
Warnings: Almost implied smut? 98% fluff !
Word Count: 1,840
Authorâs note: Iâve had this in my drafts for so long. Iâve edited the ending like a million times. Itâs my first Hvitserk story, I hope you guys enjoy ! Also I really need to start posting at a decent time. Someone yell at me please.
Summary: Caring doesnât always mean sharing.
Masterlist
Small kisses peppered Y/Nâs face as she lay asleep. Her nose scrunched up like a rabbitâs and all she could hear was the low echo of laughter, laughter that she recognized all too well. Her eyes shot open and there she saw him, her Hvitserk. She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck âYOUâRE BACK !â She called out. Her lips landing harshly on his.Â
âYou werenât at the docksâ he mumbled into her mouth. His smile never once faltering. Hvitserk had been on a raid with his brothers and their arrival had been delayed. His eyes shone bright as he stared at Y/Nâs messy hair and bunched up dress.Â
She pulled back, sitting on her knees as she smoothed out her dress, staring at him. âI must have fallen asleep,â she mumbled with a frown. She suddenly shot up and ran across her room âI was tired from making these !â She yelled as she bent over, looking through woven baskets. She pulled out a small container and jumped back on her bed beside Hvitserk, who was simply staring at her in awe. His eyes filled with curiosity and his lips curled up into an amused smirk. âWell,â she insisted as she shoved the now open container in his direction. Hvitserk seemed star struck, in awe of his kind-of-girlfriendâs beauty. She saw his hesitation and rolled her eyes as she grabbed one of the treats from the container and shoved it in his mouth. Hvitserk chewed, wary at first and then he leaned over and grabbed another, then another. Y/Nâs giggles filled the house as she saw him enjoy the treats. âYouâre going to give yourself a stomach ache my princeâ shoving the container aside, she shook her head in mock disapproval.Â
Ragnar(ssons) || Dancing
Ragnar
Daddie sees what he likes when those hips start shifting.
Immediately finds it to be a show.
The way your eyes catch his to every shake of your hips and step backwards, then forward with a spin.
One that he wants nothing more to do but take it back to his room.
But he is a patient man.
Lets you tease his brother and friends a little more.
Gets up when one of his sons dance with you.
No one takes your Kingâs things.
Bjorn Ironside
When you said you had a birthday surprise, he wasnât sure what he was expecting.
But this wasnât it.
Finds himself hovering in wait.
Draws his eyes over the red of your dress, across the slit and exposed skin.
The beat of the music gets under his skin.
âFinish up.â He sways.
Canât really wait to get you back to his room.
Or in the kitchen.
Or anywhere else.
Wonders if you can shake your hips like that on his lap.
Or on his face.
Ubbe
Taking him by surprise in Alfredâs presence.Â
The look in his in encourages you on.Â
Discourages others from watching you with sharp looks.Â
Except for Alfred of course.Â
âKeep going.â He rasps.
Itâs all apart of showing him how to become a real man.Â
Youâre all too happy to play along.
Just like you did with Hvitserk.
Hvitserk
Canât exactly handle himself well.
So he just gives a dopey smile as he watches you dance.
In front of his brothers or other men.Â
Absolutely a silent watcher for most of it.
Gets off on knowing that for once, they donât stand a chance.
But also super impatient so it doesnât last long.
Has to pick you up and take you to bed.Â
Sigurd Snake in the Eye
Pretty regular occurrence.Â
He enjoys playing music and watching you dance to his tunes.Â
Is rather interactive and will often abandon his instrument to go be by your side.Â
Or, to Ivarâs insults, dance along with you.Â
Heâs a little clumsy.Â
But its so cute!
Ivar the Boneless (Soft!)
Gets his dance in private.Â
Not sure what youâre doing at first.Â
His wits take ahold of him, so he looks down.
But smiles when he dares take a peep.Â
Except if you smile back, he looks away.Â
Still too shy to look.

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Irreplaceable XII: Seven
See my masterlist for the rest of the series.
A/N: This chapter has a lot of loose ends that Iâm cleaning up, so not much ooey gooey things. More Ivar torture actually. Itâs not a happy chapter. Just a lot of angst.
It was the seventh day.
Today was it-- you either inherited Sverriâs lands or you gave them to Ivar who was an actual king. You could stay as Ivarâs Queen and unite three lands or leave and face tremendous responsibility caring for Sverri and perhaps your fatherâs as well.
You knew you wanted to do.
âI will give my lands to Ivar. But⌠I want you to care for my fatherâs lands in specific, Hvitserk.â You begin to say.
You sit with Hvitserk, Ragnhild and Ivar. Aslaug lay in your arms awake. She was eating of your breast while you ate breakfast yourself. The constant feasting that had been going on the last seven days had you feeling more than a little queasy, if you were honest. So a simple breakfast of fruit was better suited to you.
âMe?â Hvitserk glances over to Ivar. His brother wore a hard smile, cup against his lips as you spoke. Hvitserk knew that Ivar was getting all that he wanted. The lands, the woman⌠But he wasnât so stupid as to expect that everything was fixed just like that.
âIâm no shieldmaiden.â You murmur. âBut youâre a good warrior. Iâd like you to go take care of my fatherâs memory.â
Most women would have been eager to fight for their lands, leaving a husband that had two wives and ignored you for years. But you? You didnât feel like Lagertha or Brynhildr. No, you were (Y/N), with two sons and a daughter whom you rather put devotion into rather than waste your time caring for lands that may or may not face an usurper. Most of all, you were tired. You wanted to enjoy some quiet.
âAlright.â Hvitserk says, his voice raising and dropping like the tide. He sounded unsure. You didnât blame him either. It was hard to care for lands and worse so on you as you knew that you would be sending your dear friend away.
âI have another condition.â You look to Ivar with your head held high. He admits a crown looks beautiful on your head.
âWhat is it?â Ivar leans back in his chair.
âI am going to release my Ragnhild from her bondage in good standing and give her land.â You look to Ivar, who flicks his fingers at you.
âSheâs your thrall. Do whatever you want.â He snorts. But by doing so-- he knew you would be completely alone. Hvitserk would leave, Ragnhild would leave and so it would only be his family and you. Ragnhild fiddled with the many rings you had given her, twisting them on her pale fingers.
âMy Queen--â Oh how sweet those words sounded off of her tongue. âI am thankful to be a free woman. But⌠if I may, I donât want to leave my family.â
At that you smile. The words are probably the best ones youâve heard all day and while Ivar canât make you duck your head any longer, Ragnhild makes you do so in jubilation.
âIâm so glad to hear that, Ragnhild.â You say, sliding Aslaug off your breast and handing her to Ivar. He takes her up onto his chest as Veifnr sits beside you. Things were awkward, tensely so. You feel unsure what to think of your little boy who acted in so much love of his father, that he would curse someone else.
But wasnât that how it should have been? For your fatherâs honour, you murdered Sverri. Perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps it was knowing if you didnât-- Ivar would. You rather he die at your hands than anyone else's. Ragnhild and Hvitserk quickly run away as the boys sit beside you.
Itâs an awkward moment. Uxi seems jovial enough, chomping down as quickly as Hvitserk was earlier when Veifnrâs snide glare looks up to you.
âDo you still hate me for killing him, mother?â Veifnr asks, pushing away his porridge. You pull it back to him, barely looking up into his slanted eyes.
âEat.â You push a spoon into his bowl. Veifnr snuffs it. You look over to your husband as if to tell him to talk to Veifnr. To tell him that his mother loved him beyond anyone or anything else. If it had been Uxi who died, you werenât sure what you would have done. There was no other fate for sweet Sverri other then death.
âDo you?â He asks again. You already had one Ivar-- you didnât mean to have Veifnr act like his father too.
âI do not hate you my son.â You snap. âI killed him, not you.â
Ivar, seemingly confused, looks toward you. âWhat did he do?â He flicks his head in Veifnrâs direction. The little boy has a surly expression behind black hair that covers his sharp eyes. Â
âHe wrote a horn of runes against Sverri while this one,â You poked Uxiâs head. He swats your finger. âThrew himself on you. What did you do to my boys while I was away?â
Ivar laughs full of pride-- he wasnât sure what he did to his boys. Before, they detested him. You  were there one and only soft place to land. But somehow, he warmed their hearts towards him. Uxi almost sacrificed himself while Veifnr put his heart in the hands of the gods. Both actions that drew immense pride, but as he told Uxi, he never wanted him to attempt that again.
âAsk them, not me.â Ivar says, his hand combing through Aslaugâs dark hair as she slept on his chest.
âHeâs my father. I love him.â Uxi cuts in, showing a rare flash of his own heart. It wasnât common for him to say such things. Uxi flicks his fruit into the air, catching it and bounding up out of his seat.
âBreakfast is spoiled. Iâm going. Um, Veif?â He looks to his smaller brother-- who usually hid out by himself. Veifnr looks up, âLetâs go train.â
The two boys leave and at long last, youâre stuck with your husband. You look down to your plate, noting that Veifnr still hadnât eaten. You would have to chase him later and--
âSo youâve chosen to stay as my wife?â Ivar asks, bobbing his head in confidence. You wear a deadpan smile, nose wrinkling up in distaste.
âDonât make me change my mind, Boneless. You make me want to smack that smile off your face.â You snap. It only makes his tongue course over his upper teeth, nodding as he looks away. After a moment, you stand and take his hand as if to pull him toward the exit. He grasps his crutch when you let him go, holding Aslaug tight as he stands up. Youâre not sure how she hasnât woke up as you weave through Kattegat to a secluded area where a great pile of ash had been-- undisturbed.
Kitta.
âI donât want you to remove her remains.â You told Sverri, your hands wrapped around your waist as moved through your large room to Kittaâs own. Sverri followed after you to see what you were up to. The fine linen of her dresses were each folded into a vast pile which you arranged into a chest.
âI thought you hated her.â Sverri said, hands behind his back as you looked over Kittaâs jewelry. The simple jewelry that she preferred, the bit of kohl sheâd round those saucy and at times hateful green eyes-- they all went into the chest with household items. All save her crown and a lone pair of pearl earrings you decided to keep.
âThings are not so black and white. If you had talked to me, you would have known that.â You said. Your sister wife and one time lover could be cruel at times. But did that mean that you wished for her death? No.
Sverri realized he made a mistake.
âWhat is this?â Ivar asked as you came upon the ashen site. You glanced over to Ivar, bending down in a creamy dress to peel your hands through the black soot. There, you found what you were looking for.
âKitta.â You say-- placing bone after bone on a piece of pale cloth you wove yourself. The edges were embroidered in green. With every bone you pulled out, it became harder and harder. But the worst was when you turned to face your husband, finding those choked out cries were only apart of the hot tears that spilled down his cheeks.
âIvarâŚâ You place the last of the bones you could find in the pile, standing up to take the Aslaug with ashen hands. Sheâs woken back up-- bright blue eyes taking in the noise of her fatherâs pained screams that rip through Kattegatâs square. Sheâs crying too, and as you turn down to comfort Ivar-- your hand shakes along his tunic. It was your fault--
âNo.â Ivar interrupts, taking her skull into his hands. His thumb runs along the bones of the top. âIt⌠it is my fault... I should have divorced her.â
You donât understand. âWhy would you divorce her?â You ask.
âBecause it would have been easier than losing her altogether.â Ivar says, throwing you a dismissive glance. You couldnât disagree. He just couldnât let her go. Somehow, he believed his mother when she had told him he could have all the women he wanted.
Mother didnât always know best.
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Hvitserkâs Loss
A/N: @my-little-wolfe I felt even worse writing Hvitserkâs wife dying than I did with Ivar. Just devastating. Gif credits to imdancingintherain07.
At first, its revealed that you are giving birth to twins. Twin boys, Hvitserk often corrects. He isnât particularly picky about whether they are boys or girls, but to get under his brotherâs skin, he insists that the babies are boys. The thought terrifies you.
âI donât want to have twins.â You say, walking along the shoreline. Your stomach is swelling with the children youâll soon share with Hvitserk. Walking is a luxury for your swollen feet that most times, other pregnant women take for granted.
âWhy not?â Hvitserk swings your hand which was clasped in his. You look out to the horizon where the sun sets over Kattegat, tangerine hues kissing the light blue sky.
âIt is risky.â You say, sighing. âI donât want to die.â
âI wonât let you.â
At the first sign of you becoming sick, Hvitserk would skip raiding. While some of the other Vikings donât understand why, he knows you need him to stay home. Bouts of nausea, vomitting and a bizarre gain of weight is all that he needs to stay home. He just didnât expect it to get worse.
âHvitserk.â You fall back against a wooden beam, dropping a bowl of water with a rippling clang. It falls into pieces on the ground, embedding in the side of your foot while you reach out for him. Heâs at your side in a second.
â(Y/N)! What happened?â Hvitserk swipes his hands underneath you, grunting a bit more forcefully under your weight as he takes you to bed. Your hands shake, reaching out towards your husband.
âItâs all blurry and spotty and I canât see!â You shrill. Hvitserk does his best to hush you, looking after the wound of your foot.
âItâs okay! Itâll be okay. Close your eyes.â He hushes you, his hand softly streaking past your forehead to your hair. âIâll call the healer.â
The healer is of no use but the seer and Ubbe are. Seer gives you the information you need and Ubbe, you decide, will be the one to carry out a heavy burden. You ask Ubbe to stick behind for a moment before the brothers go to train.
âWhat is it?â Ubbe asks, bending down to the level of his knees by your bed. He jingles with the sound of his axe and bow in his hand.
âThe seer has seen the day that I will die.â You say with your hands around the pregnant swell of your gut. It could mean many things but you were certain. âI need you to take care of my Hvitserk... and my boys.â
Ubbeâs eyes widen, forming a few crinkles in his forehead as he looks to the door. He leans down into you.
âDonât be a fanatic (Y/N). Nothing is going to happen.â He assures, hands weaving one over the other on the fluffy furs of your bed.
âBut if it happens!â You grip the his elbow. The thought of death swings like the head of his axe over your head. If you felt like this, surely it would be death coming close.
âOf course I will.â
It comes quicker than Hvitserk is ready for. He didnât know why he chose to train so much and ignore the small, but definite signs you were in pain the whole night. When a young thrall comes running up to the four brothers out in the field, he feels just as out of breath.
âQueen Aslaug says sheâs dying.â He rasps, hands on his knees before the princes.
âWho? My wife?â Hvitserk asks. The young thrall nods.
âAnd if you donât hurry-- sheâll take your sons with her.â
He grabbed Ubbeâs hand and ran.
Hvitserk tried to mentally prepare himself for walking in on the scene, but he couldnât. When it comes down to it, Hvitserk squeezed his brow tight and pushed himself into the room where his mother sat beside you, encouraging you on.
â(Y/N)!â
Aslaugâs eyes snapped up, shushing him to silence. âHush. Youâll give her more convulsions.â Aslaug holds one of your hands, despite the soul aching shriek that fell off of your lips.
âGo away Hvitserk, go away.â Your head lulls to the side. He takes a few anxiety inducing steps forward.
âI donât want to go away.â He whimpers.
âAnd I donât--â Another gasp for breath, and heâs at the other side of your head while you squirm, your back arching with toes curling. The smoke that waves above your head does nothing to help your frantic gasping for air. â--want you here.â You say at last.
âI want to be here.â
It continues like that for some time until the first cries breach the room. A good start, and moments later another set of cries follow. His lips wear a beaming smile as he shows his mother his boys with a smile, having not noticed the last few breaths that puff out of your lips.
âLook (Y/N),â Hvitserk comes beside you, his arms full with one of the boys. When you donât respond, he assumes perhaps you have fallen asleep and tries to wake you. His breath picks up in intensity, only rivaled by the sharp shakes that have a hold on your lifeless shoulder. Aslaug sets her hand on top of his to stop him.
âBrother, let me help you.â Ubbe comes up beside him, his plump nephew bundled heavily in his arms. âSheâs gone.â
He just couldnât believe it.
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