King Ragnar Imagines

The Help I

There was a sort of hogslosh on the board that reflected what was on your paper. Vibrant pens of blue, green, red, and purple marred the paper with confusing signals of Calcium in, Potassium out, exocytosis of acetylcholine out, voltage gated channels, ligand gated channels and blah blah blah you were fucked. You were fucked for not taking Chemistry before hand. Your pen clicked on the paper with a repetitive tapping against the large table, glancing up with the cracking of the stool beside you. Ubbe Lothbrok swung onto an aged stool that cried out under his weight. He leans over your paper.

"You should really go to his office hours for that," Ubbe says, his badge swaying around his neck. 'Tutor' it read. He was a whizz at muscles, bones, newer things, and even some lecture but it had been far too long since he went over this. You look over the notes, flipping back and forth a few times.

"If I go over it enough I won't have to." You say in your defense. Ubbe shrugs his shoulders, turning to the board among a sea of pricey muscular chart models.

"Alright. Spend a few days on it. The lecture exam is only," Ubbe pauses, looking over to a fat black watch on his wrist. "Two days away. And the lab exam is two from that."

And as much as you want to tug at his brunette beard, you know he is right. You need to go in and talk to him. To add insult to injury, Margrethe chimes in behind her warm little hoodie.

"She just doesn't want to see your creepy daddy." She offers out her hand, crowned in rings. Then she looks over the innervations on your homework.

"Margrethe!"

"What...? Are you scared he is going to eat you?" Ubbe screws his nose and eyebrows up tight, tilting his head all so slightly. He dismounts his stool, strolling behind you in a way that is all too like the professor before his hands dig into your soft waist. You shriek, smacking and warning him not to do that.

"I can't believe you are too scared to see him. He will behave, right Hvitserk?" He asks his brother who chews on a piece of rubbery jerky between his teeth. Hvitserk looks up from his book.

"Ehh.." He tilts his hand as if to say so-so.

"You see? It is not just me." You claim in your defense, slapping your hands together and pointing to Hvitserk. The younger Ragnarsson smiles.

"Nooo, it really is just you for Professor Ragnar." Margrethe says. You're sure she's gaining pleasure from telling you that much; because you stutter while closing your books up.

"Fine I'll fine," You clear your throat. "I'll go see him."

"Come in," Comes a deep voice from behind a daunting door. You become more and more aware that you drag your feet to see him, shyly pressing apart the doors that keep him out of your view. The office is a lot nicer than the university's classrooms and the biology study center, despite a few torn charts that hang on the walls. His chair swivels to face you as you move closer. Ragnar leans back, drawing his hand across his neatly trimmed beard with a shit eating smile. His hands then move behind his head, muscles flexing under a shirt that you swear has to be a size too small.

"Well, I did not think I would see you here." Ragnar folds one of his legs over the other, crinkling perfectly ironed slacks. Yeah, I didn't either, you think. You bend over to find a folder within your bag. Ragnar sits in silence and waits for you to make the first move. You can feel the heat of his stare against you; watching every motion you take. You move to hand him a few papers.

"Neuromuscular junctions, huh? M'ere, I'll make it simple for you." Ragnar folds up the edges of his sleeves that already hug his arms so tight, you question why exactly he bothers showing off even more. The time flies with shockingly no creepy motions. He doesn't corner you like a doe and tred around you, nor does he make those snide little comments that no one else in the room got. So despite your muscles trying to flinch away when he brushed up against you, it was a good choice to listen to Ubbe. His repetition of the material clarifies the questions you had. But it's the actual anatomy that falls a little dry on your tongue when you ask him. You should have asked Ubbe.