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The Request: A fiction for Hvitserk or Sigurd with the prompt: "All I want for Christmas is you under my tree." or, bad poetry Author's Notes | I could go for my beloved Sigurd. But I couldn't lose the chance for a Drunk Hvitty XD Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Modern AU,prompts designed by @honestsycrets for 2019's Holiday Event | ¹A reference to the ghost of the movie "The Ring". Words |1764 ⁑Warnings: Mention to abusive consume of alcohol. Cursing.
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You were his best friend for years, so you knew Hvitserk enough to know when it was time to take him out of the party.
And that time was long gone when you finally found him sitting in the corner of the living room; a cup in his hand, half-empty.
You could bet, for his hair already unbraided and his appearance, that he was completely drunk and the trip was bad this time. Hvitserk was always two different kinds of drunken person: whether he would become the soul of the party, making jokes like a clown and having everyone laughing as fuck, or he would go down the hill and become full depressive, remember his exes or mourning his loneliness.
And this time, he was under the bottom of the well, probably trying to date Samara¹...
"Come on, buddy, time to go home," you said, taking the cup out of his hand and helping Hvitserk to get up as he mumbled something you couldn't understand.
His mumbles became louder and louder until he tried to push you away, speaking audibly this time.
"I don't wanna go home yet!" he complained.
"Babe, don't do this, uh?" you said, trying to keep your gentle ways with him. "You just drunk too much and you know you'll get better after a bath and some sleep."
"I don't want a bath... And I'm not..." he stumbled, stopping walking beside you, "I'm not sleepy."
