#whenimaunicorn

Rec list:

In This Life by @author-morgan - T - Halfdan/f!Reader - 1,562 words

I really like the clean writing style and how Halfdan was granted someone who loved him. That was something that kind of bugged me in the show and even though it's bittersweet, I will just accept this as canon!

Summary: If not in this life, then you will be reunited in the next to the joyous resounding of Valhalla’s horns.

A Day at the Lake by @prepare4trouble - G - Ragnarssons - 2,728 words

Slice of life kinda fic that I enjoyed a lot. For its shortness, it makes up with character insights and shenanigans. A lot of love for that!

Summary: Just the brothers hanging out together at the lake, before Ragnar came back and everything fell apart.

homeland, heartland by @underragingwaves - E - Ubbe/OFC - 41,555 words (WIP)

Those who don't read it are missing out big time! We get wonderfully written in-character Ubbe, Hvitserk- and I can only assume since I enjoy this fic slowly- Ivar. Very sweet nods to Aslaug are continuing to get me emotional. There are original characters that will suck you into their little world, make you care for them and of course: MERMAIDS. Do I have to say more?

Summary: Ubbe encounters a mermaid on his journey home from England. The deal he strikes with her has far-reaching consequences for the future of Kattegat, while the Great Army’s motions may be impeded by the Sea Empire’s meddling. As Ubbe attempts to build bridges, he may come to find that there is no way to stay neutral when trouble washes over him..

A New Life by @adrille88 - M - Hvitserk/OFC - 5,664 words (WIP)

One of the WIPs I will wait patiently for their continuation and until then enjoy what is already available to read! I love post-canon stories and how Hvitserk is followed on his new life journey in here.

Summary: Hvitserk was left in England feeling lost and unsure following the Battle of Edington. How he adjusted to his life in England and found his destiny there. (Contains spoilers for series finale!)

Stupid Games by @serasvictoria - E - Hvitserk/Reader/Ubbe - 29,133 words (WIP)

Everyone who knows me, is aware of my little obsession with love triangles or flat out polyamory relationships with Hvitserk and Ubbe. This right here? Scratches that itch really nicely!

Summary: When you were growing up you used to live next to the Lothbroks, but you eventually moved away and haven't seen them since. A wedding brings you back to town and during a bachelorette party you run into the brothers again.

Denmark and Danishes by @quantumlocked310 - G/E - Hvitserk/Reader - 5,042 words

This one is something very sweet and very hot. That I think this author is talented are not news. Loved this one to bits! I linked the series, so you can have an overview, the summary belongs to the first of two fics.

Summary: You're a new resident in Denmark, and this is your first time heading to work in the morning. Maybe the coffee shop around the corner will be your new regular spot. The cute barista certainly hopes so.

Lust by @grimeundglow - E - Hvitserk/Reader, Ivar/Reader - 7,943 words

If you like when it hurts, but also are a sucker for forbidden love, dig in! This one made my heart go out for Hvitserk, gave me the urge to knock sense into Ivar, but managed to make me coo at the end. It also has nome guest appearances of Helga and Floki! I really like how all of them are in-character.

Summary: Hvitserk liberates a farmer’s daughter from her quiet life in Northumbria, only to have his younger brother take a keen interest in her.

Before Love Came to Kill Us by @ritual-unions-gotme - T - Ubbe/OFC - 7,387 words

So, I have a confession to make: I'm a sucker for Soulmate AUs and here they see color for the first time when they meet their soulmate. And how heartbreaking is it, to find them and then have no chance to be with them? This one hurts in all the right places!

Summary: SOULMATE AU - Senta is dutifully waiting until the day she meets her soulmate, the day her world will explode in a burst of color, unfortunately the gods have given her the one mate she cannot have.

Aftermath by @whenimaunicorn - E - dark!Ubbe/Reader - 2,861 words

This, this right here is delicious, Ubbe smut and I fucking love it. Gimme pagan King Ubbe, I'll be a happy lil idiot!

Summary: Ubbe stayed in East Anglia and took over the Danes as pagan king. (PWP and Spoilers for the series final)

Midsummer by @niishiki - T - Ivar & Sigurd centric - 7,316 words

Another slice of life fic, modern setting and beautifully written. It explores the dynamic of Sigurd and Ivar's relationship, but also has a little bit of Hvitserk, Ubbe and Bjorn in it. Really loved it!

Summary: A traumatic childhood experience comes back to the surface when Ivar vanishes from a party under Sigurd's supervision.

Two Shieldmaidens by @artemiseamoon - T - Gunnhild/Reader - 517 words

A sweet little drabble that made me go all 'Aww' with my fav Gunnhild! We love us some wlw rep! (Story link will lead you to the tumblr post, since it's only available there)

Summary: Gunnhild's birthday party was a success and you reminisce over the events of last night while cleaning up...

My daughter, my girl by @pomegranates-and-blood - G - Lagertha & Gyda - 2,300 words

I cannot describe how this fic had me in my feels. I do love Gyda, but I never liked Lagertha- this fic though? It makes you like her and grief with her. And we always need more female rep in this fandom! (This fic is only on tumblr, so the link will take you there)

Summary: Lagertha thinks back on her years and her losses as her life nears its end. A retake on her choice of burying her sword in 6x01 with Lagertha as Demeter and Gyda as Persephone.

-

- so he has you, finally, sitting up on your elbows ontop of his hastily thrown cloak on the floor of the ship with clothes ripped open and your tits spilling out from the vicious tear he’s made through the thin tunic’s neckline. you can feel him watching you, and you can hear him undressing himself because you’re useless without your sight. and you want to see but he’s set the deal in concrete — blindfolds or complete darkness. he could fuck you with the armor on, but it seems a little too formal for the occasion. so blindfolds it was. 

- you reach to touch him. to touch any part of him. you want to keep feeling the warmth of his skin everywhere. he’s so warm; warmer than the beskar, softer too. he grabs your hand and guides your blind path and you realize he’s closer than you expected, nuder that you expected. 

- your mouth goes dry as he presses your hands over his chest and you feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat. you spread your fingers, testing his skin like you’re amazed it even exists. 

- “it’s alright,” he reassures, his voice dragging low in his throat and you shiver at the clarity. every octave hits your ears and you can imagine his mouth now as he speaks, “touch me, it’s okay.” 

- you think it’s a little crazy at the fact that that’s what makes you blush. not the fact that you’re laying here, tits out and one thin scrap of fabric away from being totally naked, unable to see if he’s looking at your face or your chest. but the jagged vulnerability of his voice, the falter in the usual authoritativeness of it — it makes you blush.

- your hands slip lower and you can hear the way he inhales deep. his chest is smooth and you follow the soft lines of his muscles until your fingertips begin to encounter a soft trail of coarse hairs. his breath falters and you’re almost struck by the sudden awareness of how different his breathing sounds without the warp of the helmet’s modulator. 

- your own breaths start to fall in tandem and his hand is still around your wrist and you didn’t realize you had hesitated until his voice breaks in the darkness again, “it’s okay.” is he convincing you, or himself? you’re not very sure because it’s his hand that takes the lead and guides your touch where he needs it. 

- maybe you’re just imagining things now; making stuff up in your head because you can’t see what you’re doing. but how could your mind be playing tricks on you when you can feel the thickness of his shaft pressing beskar-hard against your palm as he wraps your fingers around him. he’s heavy in your hand and you can only just barely feel the tip of your longest finger against the tip of your thumb. by the maker, there’s no way.

- your jaw hangs loose and the mandalorian takes that as an invitation to lean forward and kiss your upper lip, sighing softly into your mouth as though he hasn’t just put the thickest cock of your life in your hands. 

- your brow furrows behind the blindfold and you let out a soft disbelieving noise and now you really wonder if you’re going crazy when he starts guiding your hand along his length, tightening your grip as he slowly herds you down onto your back. he spreads you beneath him with your legs spread against his thighs and suddenly your cunt feels really fucking vulnerable right about now.

- your heart hammers hard in your chest and you count the seconds until your fingers finally feel the soft ridge of his cock’s head, already leaking pre-cum into your palm as the bounty hunter thrusts eagerly into your touch. holy fucking shit. where does he think he’s putting that?

- “m-mando—” you really want to lie to yourself that everything’s fine. that you’re just exaggerating in your head because you can’t fucking see. but when he pushes your hand back down on the bed and for just a second you’re lost in the dark without his guidance.

- then you feel the head of his cock. thick and smooth and it jolts you back to your senses when it catches against your clit. he groans and he’s pushing down, guiding himself where he needs to be, and you can’t fucking see and he’s hardly got the tip of his dick in you and—

- holy fuck.

- “wait— wait, mando—” 

- he stops immediately and you hear the tension in his voice as your walls squeeze around the first inch of his cock. his head is low against your shoulder as he breaths raggedly, swallowing around the dryness in his throat, “wh-whats wrong?”

- “i-i need more. i’m not ready yet. you won’t—” 

- your words disintegrate when he pulls back out, his cock brushing up against your clit again and your thighs try to squeeze shut around his waist. he cups a hand over your pussy, slipping two fingers in with ease and you can hear the wet sound of his fingers as he works them into you until you squirm. 

- you think you’re stalling for time and you think he knows it too. 

- “you’re wet enough. why the hesitation?” 

- his voice is strung out, gravelly the way it always was when he woke in the mornings, and fuck his voice is foreign but the words are so familiar when he speaks them. his thumb’s pressing fast circles into that aching bundle of nerves and his fingers curl and you know he feels you get even wetter. you know he’s watching you from somewhere above; you can feel his exhales on your cheek. 

- “too big—” you half wheeze out, “maker, you barely fit in my hand.” 

- “you have very small hands.” 

- you know that was supposed to be a joke and maybe you would have laughed if you weren’t seriously concerned that your hands were totally average sized and his cock wasn’t. 

- you open your mouth to retort something while you still have the brain function to, granted his fingers are pulling every coherent thought out of your head. a small thought ebbs in the back of your head; low simmer and quietly urgent and you reach for the tail end of that thought before mando can finger fuck it right out of your head. 

- his words. there was something… humble about it. what man in this edge of the galaxy would combat a woman telling him his cock was too big to fit? 

- “wait,” your hand is on his chest and you feel his nipple beneath your palm, “has—has no one ever told you that?”

- his fingers still inside of you and you wonder if you hit a cord somehow. it didn’t feel like you had stoked his pride but rather hit something a little more vulnerable. “can we talk about this later?” 

- you bite your lip and wonder what could be hiding behind his defensiveness. 

- you slip your hand back down his chest again, familiar with the path now as you reach down and grab his cock again, pulling him to you as he takes the hint and slides his fingers out of your heat. he touches your hip and you feel the wet smear of your own juices against your skin. he’s right — you were wet enough. 

- you guide him back to you, “fine,” you concede, “but— slow. go slow.” 

Years on the account had taught Hope that dealing with other pirates as a small-boned woman requires a certain amount of swaggering bravado. She flings open the tavern door, cocks one hip out, and stands there for a moment, silhouetted, as she scans the room for a man matching the description DeGroot had given her. Ah, there he is, watching her approach his table in an alcove at the rear of the room. She feels an unexpected jolt in her stomach as she locks eyes with him, but this wouldn’t be the first time she’s had to ignore her nerves, would it.

"Captain Vane?"

He nods, and she continues. "I'm quartermaster of the Starling. I believe you're expecting me." She removes the pistol and long knife from her belt and places them on the table in front of him, a sign that she has come in peace.

He gestures for her to sit across from him and signals the barmaid to bring her a drink then gives her a hard look from beneath his brow. "What's this about?" He could sand the deck with his voice, she thinks, but it isn’t unpleasant to the ear.

"A certain item of yours has come into my possession. I'm here to return it to you." She hands him a burlap sack containing his black. She had been appalled when a couple of the more rambunctious members of her crew came back to camp having stolen it from the Ranger. It wouldn't do for them, new to Nassau, to start their time here by making an enemy of the most notoriously violent captain on the island.

Vane looks inside the sack to examine his colors. Hope had ensured it wasn’t damaged, and she had folded it carefully. When he comes to that conclusion as well, he turns that heavy gaze back to her. "What do they call you, quartermaster of the Starling?"

She meets his piercing stare with her own, unflinching. "They probably call me a lot of things when I can't hear them." She is sure she sees him suppress a smile at that. So the man has a sense of humor beneath that steely demeanor. Good. She holds out her hand for a shake. "Hope Wickham."

"Why did your captain send you, Miss Wickham, instead of approaching me himself?"

She frowns, but doesn't rise to the bait. "He didn't send me," she says coolly. "He has no idea any of this happened. I'm meeting with you of my own accord and in my own capacity to try to protect my crew."

Vane’s silence as he sips his ale has a pointed quality to it. He’s waiting for her to elaborate.

"I may be new to Nassau, but I'm by no means new to the account. Captain Fisher and the rest of the crew are used to doing things a certain way, and don't yet understand that Nassau has rather different understandings of acceptable behavior for those under the black than does Tortuga. On Tortuga, this would be seen as a prank by a new crew seeking to position itself and a score easily settled without much bloodshed. Unlike them, I know that is not the way of things here."

Vane narrows his eyes. "How do you know how we do things here?"

"I apprenticed with Mr. DeGroot. We stay in touch." The corners of her mouth turn up in a wry smile, unable to contain her amusement at the absurdity of the situation. "I realize that he is nobody's first, second, or tenth choice for a tutor in etiquette, but," she gestures broadly, "we live in a world of wonders."

She’s gratified to see Vane smiling back at her, ever so slightly. It changes his entire face, and she can almost imagine that they are having a friendly drink together. "So you're a trained navigator, then?"

"I am."

He also seems to remember that this is not a social call. The smile drops from his face, which returns to its forbidding scowl, and he hunches forward enough to give the impression of looming over her without getting up. For a moment she wonders if he’s going to lunge across the table and attack her. "Members of your crew snuck onto my ship, stole my black, and they did it so badly that someone saw them getting away. So let me tell you what happens next."

Hope has learned to never, ever show fear when facing down a man, so she doesn't quail from his ferocious growl, from his coiled posture that makes him appear to be a predator about to pounce. Only long practice allows her to meet his icy glare directly. "Who saw them?"

"My quartermaster and his matelotage." Is he taken aback by the question? He’s clearly a man used to being obeyed. Yet he answered her...

She tilts her head, considering. "Anyone else?"

Vane grunts and leans back in his chair. "No."

Hope nods to herself. "Can you trust their discretion?"

"With my life." She sees him follow the course she’s plotted with her questions. "You're going to ask who else on my crew knows it was gone."

She shrugs as if to say you caught me. "Well, who else does?"

"Only them." She opens her mouth to speak but he cuts her off. "Regardless, you know I cannot let your crew's insult go unanswered. I’ve a reputation to maintain, a captaincy I do not intend to lose."

"Nor do I expect you to. However, by returning your black undamaged, along with compensation for the," she pauses and bites her lip, considering her next words, "inconvenience you've been put through by this unfortunate breach of propriety, I trust this need not be a killing offense." She takes a bulging coin purse from her coat pocket and pushes it across the table to him.

Vane opens it and quirks a scarred brow at the amount of coin within. "Is this from the Starling's collective savings?"

"No. It's my personal share from our last prize." It had been a lucky take, that last prize, larger than most of the Starling’s, but there’s no reason to tell Vane that.

He places both hands on the table and leans forward abruptly. Hope feels her eyes widen as she assesses the threat and she quickly schools her expression. Vane’s voice drops to a near-whisper that puts her in mind of a cat’s purr. "My turn to ask the questions. Who else knows that your crew had my black?"

She leans forward as well, close enough to take in details of the trinkets braided into his long hair. "As far as I know, nobody." She keeps her voice as low as his, matter-of-fact. "My crew hasn't bragged, because they didn't get a chance to parade your colors on the beach. I made certain of that. And they won't now, not after I've relieved them of it. The ones who took your black are young and foolish. I've revoked their shore privileges for the time being, until they can show they won’t be shitheads to other crews if they come into town." Oh, they hadn't liked it at all, being returned to the Starling to assist the carpenters with some much-needed repairs to the ship while their brothers celebrated the take in Nassau, but they stopped complaining when Hope explained in a reasonable tone that the alternative was approaching Vane themselves to return his black. Or perhaps they wished for Vane to seek them out?

Vane’s expression turns pensive for a moment as he mulls over what she told him. "They know you're returning it to me?"

Hope forces herself to continue to meet that intense blue stare. "Yes. If they don't like it, they can elect a new quartermaster. However, they agreed when I explained my reasoning as to why keeping it would not be in their best interests."

"And DeGroot. Does he know why you asked him to arrange a meeting?"

"He didn't ask. I didn't tell." She lets out a laugh at the memory of DeGroot’s dismayed yet proud expression when he thought she was going to work for his captain’s foremost rival. “I let him think I'm here to ask you for a job, just to irritate him."

A long moment passes as she watches Vane weigh his options. Has she convinced him?