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crowwritesaway · 6 months

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Ivar the Boneless Loyal Friend, Raven VI

“You’re telling me she still sees him.” Raven scoffed, walking beside Sebastian. “Yes. She goes every night.” He said, turning to glance at her. “Well, it seems like I need to pay him a visit.”

He nodded. “Arrange a meeting. That’s be all for now.” She said, dismissing him. “Of course.” He replied, walking off.

She sighed. She has to break it off with Ivar. Or I have to get rid of that plaything. Hmmm, clearly I can’t let her decide. For someone who’s next in line for the throne. We’re doomed. She rubbed her forehead.

“And what is my woman doing here?” Hvitserk asked, hugging her from behind. “Taking care of a problem.” You leaned against his back.

“I missed you.” He whispered softly. You smiled, there was nothing more that brought you peace than being in his arms. “I missed you too.”

“Is everything okay? You seemed troubled.” Hvitserk insisted, he hated seeing you like this. He wanted to know to see if he could help you.

“Just something that needs to get fixed.” Hvitserk raised a brow. You were hiding something. Ivar was right. Lately, you had been acting strange. What could it be?

“My love.” You turned around and put your hand on his cheek. He looked down at you, smiling he answered, “Yes.” “I know I have not been myself but I promise. I will be better by tomorrow.” He hummed. He adored you. Trusted you. He laid his forehead against yours. Licking his lips, his dark eyes stared back at your grey eyes. “Are you done for today?” He gripped onto your love handles. You breathlessly replied, “No.” You cursed your duty in your mind. “That’s too bad.” Your back arched. “Hmmm.” You bit your lip. “What have I said about biting my precious lips?” He mockingly asked you. “Not to.” You mischievously replied. “Exactly. Only I can.”

“My heart.” He reluctantly pulled away. “My love.” You said, sighing. I’m lying to him. I’m lying to Ivar. “I’m always with you.” “Forever and ever.” You said finishing his sentence.

“I trust you will be done with whatever is tormenting you.” You nodded. “However, if by tomorrow, I see you frown. I’ll have to know.” He swore. You bit the inside of your cheek. He wasn’t playing around. You knew that. “It’ll be done.” He pulled you towards him by your waist. “I have to go.” You mumbled, leaving your head on his chest. “I know. Before I go, look up.” You furrowed your eyebrows. What?

You looked up. Hvitserk leaned down and pulled you into a heated kiss. You instinctively closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He groaned into the kiss. He gripped your love handles as he guided you back into a tree. “W-wait.” You tried to say. He hinted at you to wrapped your legs around him by tapping you on your left thigh. You shook your head. I need to think. I need to go solve the. The…what was I going to do?

Hvitserk have you a kiss on your neck before taking a step back. You leaned back on the tree. You chest was moving up and down. He looked at you with lustful eyes. “I love you.” He said, smiling. You stared back at him. He waited. “I love you too.” You smiled softly at him.

You managed get a hold of yourself. “Let’s head back.” Hvitserk gestured for you to walk beside him. “Mmmhmm…” You walked over to him.

You both made it out the forest. “I’ll see you around, my heart.” He kissed you and walked off.

You glanced around. “Esperanza. Where is she?” You thought to yourself. You walked over to a maid that belonged to Esperanza. “Esta Esperanza en su habitación. Is Esperanza in her room?” You whispered to the maid. “Si.” She shakily whispered back.

You nodded, made you way to Esperanza’s room. You sneakily entered the house. You didn’t want anyone to notice you and report your presence. Although you had a feeling that Ivar would connect the dots sooner or alter.

You walked into her room. “Esperanza.” She was brushing her hair. She was startled by your presence. She moved to get up. “Don’t. Sit down.” You locked the door.

“Have you ended it?” You said, motioning the unsaid word with your hands.

“Uhh, y-yeah. It’s done.” She said, looking unsure. You leaned forward, saying, “Really.”

You coldly laughed. “That’s not what I’ve been told.” “I-I…are you going to believe a stranger over me.” She said, putting a hand over chest. Yes, I would. Sebastian is devoted to me.

“I’m not joking. You, him, and me are going to have a little chat.” “No!” She angrily refused. “That or I’ll deal with it.” She pursued her lips. She’ll probably kill him. “Fine.” She had no choice.

“Great. I’m glad we came to an understanding.” You clapped your hands. “Set up the arrangement for tonight. At your usual place.” You turned the knob and exited her room. Behind you left a fuming Esperanza.

You bumped into someone as you attempted to leave the house unnoticed. You glance down. Margrethe. She dropped the clothes from the fall.

“Oh, here. Let me help.” You bend down and quickly picked up the clothes. Margrethe was blushing. She couldn’t tell you to stop. It would be offensive. “Here. Sorry about the clothes.” You apologized, you were too lost in your thoughts.

“What are you doing?” You heard Ivar say. “Correcting my mistake.” You replied, looking over your shoulder. Ivar was standing there glaring at Margrethe. He was using his crutches. “Leave.” He ordered Margrethe. Margrethe nodded, leaving quickly before anything bad would happen.

“I thought you would be outside.” Ivar told you. “Oh yeah. I was on my way.” He frowned. At this time, you would be with your men. Ordering them to train. And preparing for that attack you had told him about.

“What where you doing?” He asked, staring at you. “I was taking a nap.” He tilted his head. A nap. Since when do you take naps.

“I was tired. I know it sound weird but I-I had a headache.” You rubbed your head to sound convincing. Ivar nodded. He understood. You were lying to him. He knew you too well. He did ask Hvitserk to see what you were hiding but apparently he needed to do it himself. “Are you better?” Ivar pretended to be concerned. “Yeah, all better. I gotta go.” Ivar nodded. “Yeah. Go ahead.” He said, trying to read you.

“Okay. Bye.” You hurriedly walked away. Shit. Fuck. A nap. Seriously.

Ivar narrowed his eyes. He watched you leave. I need to figure this out before I lose my mind. I’ll join her later. And if I have to, I’ll follow her.

Stay around for more of Ivar the Boneless Loyal Friend, Raven

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ritual-unions · 10 months

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Touch Me

Moodboard by @therealvikingstrash (that I am still absolutely still in love with)

Modern!Hvitserk x OFC

Summary: Ubbe solicits Hvitserk into having sex with his girl, Dusty, so that he can watch, things don’t go as planned when Hvitserk’s new girlfriend, Honey, walks in on the three of them mid-coitous.

A part of my "Broken Clocks" series, in which the sons of Ragnar own a strip club, The Valkyrie, located in England, much to the annoyance of the Christian council, Ecbert, and his son, Aethelwulf.

My submission for #smuttyvikings by @vikingsevents the Day 2 prompt: "Touch | Featherlight, Rough, Tender"

Warnings: NSFW, cuckolding, oral sex

Read on Ao3 if you prefer

Honey B is in her power most days. She has off days. Days where she wakes up and does not feel like wearing a teeny tiny string bikini and would rather put on sweatpants and curl back under the bed covers. Days when her favorite platform heels feel too small for her feet or the pimple on her chin feels too big to go out in public.

They think because she is small that she cannot handle the realities of the world. Ubbe had warned her as such when she applied for the job but she knew what she was signing up for, so she says her thanks and accepts the job.

She thinks she has seen it all in the months that follow. It is not until she stumbles upon Hvitserk with his tongue deep in Dusty’s pussy that she realizes she has not.

*****

There is enough money scattered across the stage that it piles to the top of Dusty’s feet. Even in her four inch heels the notes brush the thin straps of her platform heels. She seems to float through the pile as if she is walking through water.

The chrome pole is beckoning her. Dusty’s fingers curl around it, latching on and then climbing to the top. With only her thighs to hold her in place she stretches back, floating in the air.

Hvitserk can’t take his eyes off of her.

For the past two hours Dusty has been dancing for a private group of men but that does not stop her from getting back in her groove. This time she will dance for herself and no one else.

Hvitserk watches as she floats around the blanket of devotion that has been laid on the stage. He cannot imagine the total number of notes that are here but he guesses it will be enough for her to pay all her monthly bills plus some.

It is not the money he is in awe of but the strength that keeps her on the pole. Setting aside the trash bag that is half full of cash he has been collecting for her he sits back on the plush cushions of the bench opposite of the stage, takes out the radio that is jammed in his ear, letting it hang along the collar of his shirt and relaxes to take in the show. The voices of bouncers, bartenders and Ivar’s direct commands converge in a static chatter that he ignores, instead focusing on Dusty.

The thick red curtains that surround the semi-private room are closed. Ivar will not see Hvitserk sitting down on the job, that is, unless he is in the office watching the cameras. Not that it matters. It’s a Wednesday night and The Valkyrie is only at seventy percent occupancy, low compared to the weekends, and Hvitserk sees nothing wrong with taking a break.

Digging into his pocket Hvitserk pulls out a fresh box of cigarillos, peels off that plastic wrapper that seals it shut and sets to rolling a spliff. The small cocktail table before him is sticky in one corner and he plucks a discarded note near his foot to use as a makeshift tray where he can work, undisturbed by the cocktail juice. The cigarillo paper cracks open between his fingers and he empties out the tobacco carefully onto the note’s surface. The weed he pulls from the inside pocket of his jacket is schwag, not worthy of a stand-alone smoke, so he mixes it with the tobacco to create something better. A mind and body high that he enjoys so much.

The music in the main hall shakes the ground but as it filters through the curtains it is only a muffled beat that hits Hvitserk. His ears ring in the half-silence as he handles the cigarillo with care. It wants to crumble under his grip as he tries to balance the paper in one hand and the note filled with tobacco and weed in the other but he has done this enough to know the exact pressure to apply.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Dusty still floating in the air. Her arms are spread out wide as her head hangs back, spinning slowly. She is like the ceramic figurines Aslaug used to put out during the holidays. The electronic figure skater was always his favorite to watch as she slid effortlessly across the ice. Unlike the figurine whose wide eyes were round with wonder Dusty’s are closed off to the world.

Floating.

Dreaming.

Elsewhere.

“Who were those guys?” Hvitserk asks as his fingers curl around the cigarillo paper, sealing it shut.

Dusty hums in reply, coming down from the cloud she has escaped on. A place where no one can touch her. None of her problems exist. It is only her and the little world she has created for herself.

She licks her lips contemplating her answer before reaching upwards towards the pole.

Sliding to the ground she says, “politician's son.” Her heels do not make a sound as they land on the stage. “And his china plates.” Dusty mocks in a feigning Cockney accent. Her lip snarls at her own joke. Her own accent is a muddle mix of the Russian immigrant parents who raised her and the dialect of the English countryside she was born in.

She slides to her knees gracefully, dancing to the muffled song pounding outside of the room, bending back until her head rests on the stage, arm stretched above her head.

From this contorted position she peers at him, watching him for a moment before she speaks whatever it is on her mind. Dusty, while hot headed and quick to speak her mind, first wears her thoughts on her face before she opens her mouth. Hvitserk has witnessed this process unfold between her and Ivar enough to know it well. He waits, too concentrated on getting the spliff perfect to be bothered by her drawn out stare.

“Ubbe says he has a request for you,” she finally announces.

Hvitserk licks the paper, wetting the edges. He can’t help but smirk. Dusty has never been one to not beat around the bush. He appreciates her bluntness most days. She is unlike Ivar or Bjorn who attempt to show off their intelligence with riddles and snide remarks.

“He told me,” Hvitserk mumbles as he licks the cigarillo paper.

“And?” Dusty impatiently demands.

Hvitserk pulls the flame of his lighter to seal the edges of the paper, not looking up at her until he is certain his spliff is complete. Placing one end between his lips he replies.

“I’ll do it.”

Clicking the lighter twice he brings the flame to the end of his spliff. Unintentionally he smirks around the cigarillo when Dusty beams with glee. She is happy that he said yes. It is no ordinary request, he admits, but she should know by now that he rarely says no to Ubbe.

He inhales a few short puffs to get the spliff rolling, watching through thick clouds of smoke as Dusty approaches. She is beautiful. Tall with long hair that reaches her waist, her makeup is still perfectly manicured though he knows she has labored the past two hours performing and before that for half an hour on the main stage.

She pulls the spliff out from between his lips, taking a long drag of her own before handing it back.

He plucks at the black elastic floss that wraps around her belly. “What is this?” He ponders with a tilt of his head. “What do you call this outfit?” He has to sit back in his seat to see her fully.

“A bodysuit.” Dusty grins, swaying a little to show off her outfit. Then, as if on autopilot, she moves into a dance, rolling her hips towards him.

“Don’t know much about women’s clothing,” Hvitserk chuckles, stretching out his legs to make room for Dusty’s little dance. “This ain’t a bodysuit.” He reaches up, tapping the edge of a flower motif that covers one nipple. There is underwire supporting her breasts but otherwise the outfit is all string and bits of lace.

Dusty laughs, that deep throaty sound that he first heard at the pub downtown all those years ago when he watched her get kicked out for being underage. She had laughed in the bouncer's face, fearless of the oversized muscles and excessive testosterone. Hvitserk had followed her outside watching as she fought against the bouncer, wiggling like a wildcat in his grip until he had practically thrown her on the streets but she had kept her balance, regardless of the fact that she wore skinny stiletto heels. Hvitserk knew instantly The Valkyrie needed her.

“They seem to like it.” Dusty shrugs her shoulders, nodding her head to the metaphorical customers who had gaped at her outfit, their minds foggy with little fantasies playing through their heads of all the things they would do to said strings if only they could touch her.

“Bet they did,” Hvitserk replies, head rolling back against his seat as the spliff takes a hold of his mind. He reaches out to caress the skin where two straps overlap but Dusty brushes away his touch with a swipe of her hand even as her hips sway towards him.

“No touching,” she whispers even as her hands caress the length of her body as if trying to tempt him. Touching her breasts. The sides of her body. The straps he so desperately wants to snap just to hear her hiss in pain.

Hvitserk huffs in contempt. He knows the rules, he was present when his brothers had worked to create them. He can’t help but feel insulted by Dusty keeping to them even after he has agreed to Ubbe’s special request.

“Not yet,” she adds when she notices his pouting. She caresses his chin before she turns to sit in his lap, grinding against him.

She starts slow. Her bare ass cheeks are a whisper against the fabric of his slacks. Dropping low to the ground, her fingers wrap around his thighs, digging into his flesh, an aid as she sways back up. Arching her back she rolls until she settles in his lap, grinding a little deeper this time.

He can feel a growl working its way up his throat, mouth twitching as he tries to swallow it.

Dusty’s head rolls back to rest next to his. “Sorry,” she lies. “It's only that I like to tease you.”

For now, he thinks. His fingers curl into fists on his lap.

Ubbe is quiet when he enters the room, slipping through the curtains without a sound. Hvitserk almost doesn’t hear him; he is too focused on Dusty grinding against his crotch.

Ubbe’s eyes drag across Hvitserk and Dusty’s precarious placement but says nothing.

Ubbe is here to watch and that is all.

Hvitserk can’t help but lift his hips up against Dusty’s. He is excited at the prospect to come. There is nothing quite as satisfying as humiliating a sibling. And Ubbe has asked for it directly.

His brother sits in the single chair in the room.

It is the only black in an otherwise red room. The leather padding with chrome edges reflect off the chandelier overhead and the red neon lights on the floor. It casts a glow around Ubbe’s head as he leans against the headrest.

The chair is designed to make their VIP guests feel special when they book the overly priced semi-private room. Set apart from the rest, it draws the eye.

“A seat for a king,” Ivar had smiled when the chairs were delivered in the months after they had bought the building that would later become The Valkyrie. Ivar had designed one for all the private rooms, each more grand than the last.

Ubbe looks like a king.

Observing his subjects.

And Hvitserk has always enjoyed putting on a show.

Licking his lips Hvitserk leans forward to ask, “and now?” His voice comes out a rough scratch, he wants to instead tell her that he is going to touch her. His fingers dance across his pant leg.

“Yes,” Dusty purrs. Hvitserk’s hands latch onto her sides. His fingers are icy cold against Dusty’s warm exercised body and a yelp of surprise bursts out her mouth. She tries to keep out of his touch but he holds her, pulling her back into his lap.

She giggles, trying to catch her breath.

“Do you tell him what to do?” Hvitserk's voice is low in Dusty’s ear. He motions to Ubbe with a nod of his head. “Or is it the other way around?” He asks, tickling her sides and she wiggles in his lap.

“Depends,” Dusty breathlessly answers. Her gaze is trapped on Ubbe as she rolls her hips against Hvitserk. “Depends on the day. What mood I’m in.” She leans her back against his chest, reaching her arm around his head to thread her fingers through the knot that makes up Hvitserk’s hair. “Whatever mood he’s in.” She nods her head towards Ubbe while still tugging at Hvitserk’s hair.

“What mood are you in?” she asks the question innocently, the hitch in her voice like that of when she talks to her customers. Asking them what they want as if they truly have any say in the matter.

Laughter tickles his throat.

“To fuck you,” he answers. The laughter that was once trapped, reverberates out of his chest when Dusty shyly peaks at him, her gaze finally drawn away from Ubbe. She is surprised to hear him speak this way. She only knows him as Ubbe’s faithful dog and Ivar’s loyal sidekick. She has never seen him otherwise.

Her mouth is close to his cheek as she takes him in, half impressed by his boldness, a smile curls on her painted lips.

Hvitserk licks his lips to drown out the next round of laughter that wants to burst forth, watching as Dusty’s smile turns into a look of wonderment.

“That’s what he wants, huh?” Hvitserk’s gaze does not falter from her mouth. He wonders what it must taste like. Does she taste of Ubbe or is she distinctly her own? Is she minty like the gum she chews vigorously during pole practice or is she spicy like the perfume she spritz before her performance?

“ - for me to fuck you,” he confirms with a nod of his head. He drags his gaze away from her plump lips to her eyes, seeking that confirmation before he begins.

She nods her head. “Yeah.” Her voice is a whisper even in the quiet room.

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me, Hvitserk.”

“There it is.” He leans back as he laughs heartily and then lurches forward, pressing his lips against hers because he can’t go without knowing what she tastes like.

She is a cool mint with a hint of fruit, leftover from the lipgloss she had applied that evening. She is nothing like his girl, Honey B, who is all sweet and sugary.

Honey is somewhere in The Valkyrie giving lap dances to a bachelor party in one of the exclusive VIP rooms. Hvitserk doesn’t like to know the exact room she is performing in, especially when she has been specifically requested. He would rather be ignorant, satisfied with the idea that Ivar can check the cameras in the room at any moment making certain she is safe.

Hvitserk has to be okay with her dancing naked for these strangers. It would be hypocritical if he was not.

He understands why Ubbe wants this, to sit back and watch as Dusty calls out Hvitserk’s name as he’s balls deep inside of her. It’s a little piece of control in an otherwise uncontrollable world.

Hvitserk sighs, satisfied with the taste of her then nuzzles against her cheek and says quietly, “now take off that stupid fucking outfit and bend over for me.”

Dusty’s fingers freeze, wedged between the ties in his hair. “But I-”

Hvitserk nudges her to stand with his own hips. He’s done playing by Dusty’s rules. He’s ready to do what he promised. “You’ll be screaming my name by the time I’m done with you,” he says knowingly.

Dusty sways on her heels, dumbfounded for a moment, as if she can’t believe she is going through with it. She glances over at Ubbe. One last chance before they all cross a line they cannot undo.

Ubbe is as still as a rock on his throne, legs spread out wide, arms resting on the sides of the chair, glass tumblr full of iced down whiskey tilts back and forth as he assesses them. His gaze darts across Dusty then to Hvitserk and back again to her. His brow arches, leaving the answer in Dusty’s hands. She can walk away but it is now or never.

She glances at Hvitserk, nods her head, then her hands find the clasp of her bra.

There are too many hooks and ties of her bodysuit for Hvitserk to keep track but she somehow manages to gracefully strip naked.

She looks back at him when she is done undressing. She is almost as tall as him in her heels but he wants to see what she looks like bent over and he nods towards the stage.

Go on.

Gracefully she climbs the stairs, unperturbed by the fact that she is the only naked person in the room. She is unlike Honey B who Hvitserk is certain had never been nude, even in the privacy of her own home, except for the few moments when she was changing clothes or getting out of the shower, before she came to The Valkyrie.

Hvitserk tugs on the slacks of his pants wondering if Honey will ever bend over nicely for him like that. Dusty’s ass is presented to him in the most delicious manner, his hand itches to smack it, to turn it a bright red. Dusty is all curves and thick muscle while Honey is petite and small and Hvitserk’s mouth twitches at the idea of both girls in bed with him.

His hand soothes across the expanse of Dusty’s back, taking his time to knead her fleshy hips and then no longer able to help himself, smacks her ass. The hiss of pain out of her lips is enough to make it worth the sharp glare she sends over her shoulder.

He hides the smile of delight behind the back of his hand but Dusty knows better, she has seen his mocking smirk enough to be able to see the signs in the way his eyes brighten or how his cheeks redden. He cannot hide himself from her or Ubbe who shifts in his seat across from him.

Ubbe treads the line of wanting to protect Dusty and to allow her to set her own boundaries. The glass of whiskey in Ubbe’s hand swirls the ball of ice inside and then his mouth twitches slightly when Dusty stretches out long like a cat, anticipating what she will try to do to Hvitserk.

She wants to play a game with Hvitserk, one both Ubbe and Hvitserk have witnessed enough. The one where she tries to coax the customers into booking a private room with her or throw her an extra note just for being. It works most of the time. She is soft and submissive, letting them think it is their idea, that paying more for a room is to their advantage. That, maybe, they might get a chance to mold Dusty to their liking. But it’s never their idea though they fall for it time and time again. She will always hold the power. Stringing them along as she dances her dance.

Hvitserk hooks his arm under Dusty’s waist, hoisting her back to her previous position, pulling her hips higher in the air. “No,” he corrects her with another slap on her ass. “You’ll stay.”

He ignores her hiss pain, his hand traveling between her legs to palm the lips of her vulva. She is wet and sticky. “You like that, huh?” he asks but doesn’t wait to hear her reply, his teeth sinking into her fleshy bottom. “Need someone to tell you what to do.” He pushes a single digit inside her and she sighs in satisfaction.

“Say it,” he mumbles, lips brushing the flesh above her hip while his thumb circles the outer edges of her clit, not quite touching her where she wants.

“Yes,” she breathes out, head cradling in her arms as if she is too afraid to look up to say it but Hvitserk knows Dusty is rarely afraid. “I need you to tell me what to do.”

Hvitserk hums, swallowing the smile that wants to spread across his mouth. “Do better.”

There is a beat of silence as Dusty contemplates her answer.

“Please,” she whimpers. “Hvitserk.”

A self satisfied grin graces Hvitserk’s lips and he glances at Ubbe to make certain his brother has heard his girl beg for him. To add insult to injury Hvitserk’s playful thumb swirls against Dusty’s clit causing her to moan. Hvitserk catches Ubbe’s half concealed roll of his eyes before moving on to paying closer attention to Dusty.

His mouth replaces his fingers and he finds that she is delightfully delicious. She shutters under his tongue and he has to grab a hold of her hips to keep her steady. Once he has her where he wants her his thumb finds her clit and her moans get louder.

Dusty sings a sputtering moan that causes Hvitserk’s mouth to curl around the lips of her pussy. His hand, that had once held her in place, moves to find her breast.

“Hvitserk,” Dusty cries out when his tongue prods deeper inside of her while simultaneously smoothing his thumb over her clit. “Gods, don’t stop.”

Dusty’s chest is heaving as he caresses her breast, tugging on her nipple. He loves the way she is tightening up, but he wants to be balls deep inside of her when she comes so that he can see the look on Ubbe’s face when she unravels under his touch. He takes one last long lick of her pussy.

“Honey,” Ubbe’s voice is gruff as he calls out the name. Dusty’s heaving breath all but stops, her head snaps up to look at Ubbe.

Hvitserk is almost uncertain if he has heard his brother correctly. Slowly Hvitserk untangles himself from Dusty’s body.

Honey B is frozen between the velvet curtains. She is dwarfed by their immaculate size, looking like a slutty pop star with her knee high latex platforms and teeny tiny skirt that does nothing to hide her ass. Her glittery makeup and high set ponytail all point towards the hand of her friend, Dusty, who helped her get ready that evening.

“Oh fuck,” Dusty exclaims sitting back on her heels so fast that she knocks her head again Hvitserk’s chin. “Fuck,” she cries out again, this time caressing the back of her head.

“Are you okay?” Hvitserk is quick to ask, hand hovering over Dusty’s as if some kind of combined power will heal her quicker.

The sound of Honey’s heels clacking against the painted cement floor brings Hvitserk back to the present as he watches Honey disappear back to the main hall.

“Ubbe.” Hvitserk gestures uselessly to Dusty who is still cradling her head as he scrambles to his feet. He does not have time to care for Dusty. He’s got to stop Honey before she leaves The Valkyrie. Or worse yet, leaves him.

There are men calling out Honey’s name. Now that she is a household face in the establishment she is a popular request among the regulars who frequent The Valkyrie. She dodges their advances with ease; she is small enough to duck around the crowds that get in her way.

Hvitserk is not as lucky. His large frame keeps him from advancing on Honey. He just needs to talk to her. Look her in the eyes and explain exactly what she had just seen. Surely she’ll understand.

My brother wanted me to fuck his girlfriend. It’s a kink for him. You see? It means nothing.

Honey heads for the front entrance. No jacket, no bag, just her skimpy little outfit to take her anywhere but the club. She has no car, Hvitserk drove her to work that day and this late at night the bus only comes around every half an hour. She clearly does not have a plan for escape. He is worried that once she steps out of that door he will never see her again.

He can’t let that happen.

He won’t.

Jamming the radio back into his ear he presses the button clipped to his belt. “Don’t let her out,” he practically shouts, not waiting to see if anyone else is on the line already. He repeats himself a few more times. “Don’t let Honey leave.”

He waits a few bated breaths before one of the bouncers replies, “she’s here.”

“What the fuck is going on Hvitserk?” Ivar’s demands over the radio, his voice a loud screech in his ear.

“What do you want me to do with her?” asks the head bouncer. Hvitserk can imagine him towering over Honey’s short frame while he waits for further instruction.

“Take her to the back office,” Hvitserk manages to reply between Ivar’s bursts of contempt.

“I don’t know if she’ll go peacefully,” the bouncer replies. Hvitserk can now see the top of Honey’s head. There is a crowd gathering, also blocked from leaving. One of the bouncers nudges her shoulder, whispering in her ear.

She walks with the bouncer for a few steps, resigned to her fate before she bursts forward, running past Hvitserk. She does not see him in her panic and he is able to catch her by her belly, scooping her up so that he can throw her over his shoulder.

“Let me down, you oaf!” she screams, pounding his back in a vain attempt to hurt him.

“We can touch the girls now?” One patron asks in glee.

Ivar has somehow found Hvitserk in the chaos and snarls at the patron, “no.” Then nods his head to his personal guard motioned to throw the idiot out.

Hvitserk marches on to the back office, simultaneously ignoring Ivar’s demands for an explanation and Honey’s pounding fists on his back.

As gracefully as he can, Hvitserk drops Honey on Ubbe’s desk, it is practically void of any clutter unlike his own that is just a collection of junk mail and leftover wrappers from lunch, then turns back to address Ivar who is waiting on the other side of the door.

“What fuck is this?” Ivar snarls, pointing to the closed door. Honey is probably banging on the other side but the room is soundproof so the only one who can hear her is herself.

“I’m dealing with it,” Hvitserk gruffly replies. He does not have the head space to explain the situation twice. “We had a disagreement.”

Dusty’s voice echoes down the hallway. “Did you find her?”

Ivar snarls openly at being ignored and turns to Dusty to yell. “You’re supposed to be on the floor.” He is leaning heavily on his cane as he points an accusatory finger in her direction.

Ubbe rounds the corner, long legs keeping stride with Dusty’s slow jog.

“What are you going to say to her?” Ubbe asks when he is near enough not to be troubled with shouting.

“I’ll ask again,” Ivar stresses slowly between clenched teeth. “What the hell happened?”

The three of them turn to look at Ivar each with their unique expression of guilt dripping off their features.

Ivar sighs, running a hand along the length of his face. “I don’t think I want to know any longer.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Ubbe announces once Ivar is out of view.

“No,” Hvitserk shakes his head. “It needs to come from me.”

“I think Ubbe is right,” Dusty says, resting a hand on Hvitserk’s shoulder. He glances at the offending appendage as if it is burning him but Dusty is unperturbed by his looks of grief. Hvitserk would vow to never speak to Dusty again if that would appease Honey but he knows likely that will not solve the problem.

“Fine,” Hvitserk says with a bowed head stepping aside to let Ubbe through the door.

*****

It feels like hours since Ubbe had closed the door on Hvitserk’s face, the club had to be closing soon. It was long enough that he’d broken out in a cold sweat pacing the halls, waiting for Honey to exit the room.

She looks pissed when she finally comes out. Hvitserk has never seen this side of her. Eyes dark in the dimly lit hall they slice across him like knives twisting in his chest and belly.

“Honey,” he breathes out, reaching for her.

“No.” She shakes her head, sliding away from his outstretched hand. “You don’t get to touch me.”

Hvitserk teeth grind together as he grimaces, glaring in his brother’s direction, who stands near the office door, unmoving, like a statue carved frozen for centuries to come. Ubbe hardly seems to care that this is all his fault.

“And you don’t get to be mad at him either,” Honey says, pointing in Ubbe’s direction. “You had just as much choice in this as him.”

Hvitserk scrubs at his face, trying to untangle his mouth. If only he could find the words to explain his reasoning then she would understand.

“I’m pissed,” Honey says, crossing her arms across her chest, brown eyes never leaving his face. A smile tickles Hvitserk’s mouth as he looks down at her, small and mighty, trying not to let the pride swell in his chest. Since starting to work at the strip club her confidence has grown tenfold. He has watched each day grow a little wider until it now stands before him unmovable. When he first met her she could hardly look him in the eyes. He turns his neck, looking at his feet instead, so that he does not accidently smile stupidly in her face.

“I need space,” she declares, pulling Hvitserk back to reality. He nods his head vigorously, letting her know he is listening, his fingers tightening into fists at his sides, trying to keep himself from reaching out and pulling her into a hug. “I don’t forgive you but," she sighs heavily through her nose. "I’m trying to understand.”

Hvitserk winces at her statement. He hates it when she’s mad at him. His fingers twitch at his side he wants to touch her so badly.

“Space,” she commands and Hvitserk nods his head, resigning not to touch her until she forgives him.

#smuttyvikings #hvitserk fanfiction #vikings fanfic #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk smut

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bouncehousedemons · 1 year

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Blood & Thunder

Rating: T Pairing: Hvitserk x OFC Warnings: Slight angst, mild mentions of blood and violence. Word count: ~1400

Summary: Since arriving in the Golden Land, Hvitserk has felt he is missing his purpose in life. That is until his meets a young woman from the Mi’kmaq tribe who reignites his sense of adventure.

Author's note: Happy birthday @captainkilly // @underragingwaves! This is my gift to you. I hope you enjoy it. This is part of my wider Salt of the Earth and Sea series, but can be read as a standalone. A while ago someone commented saying it would be nice if Hvitserk was given his own love interest in the Golden Land. Knowing how lazy I am when it comes to writing fics off my own steam, I set myself the deadline of Killy's birthday to write this, so I could gift it to her.

It has been three months since Hvitserk was reunited with his elder brother, Ubbe. Three months of becoming accustomed to life in a new land. Three months of settling into an uneventful life of farmsteading. It is peaceful and it is quiet. Why is it always so quiet?

Hvitserk longs for adventure, but most of all he longs for someone to share it with. He looks upon Ubbe and his flame-haired lover, Casja and covets what they have. He has not been with anyone since losing Thora, but now he longs for companionship.

Hvitserk finds himself drawn to the neighbouring Skraeling tribe, soon learning that they refer to themselves as Mi’kmaq. They hunt with spears and arrows, use every part of their kill and roam for miles on horseback. While there are plenty of similarities between his people and theirs, it is their differences that intrigue him most. It slakes a thirst for the unknown that is part of the very fabric of Hvitserk’s soul.

One young woman in particular captures his attention; Avaldidida. Hvitserk has never heard a name so beautiful. Her umber eyes turn to the colour of honey in the sunlight, her long dark hair falls loose around the bronzed skin of her shoulders, with intricate braids adorned with beads and feathers. She must surely be a goddess, Hvitserk thinks.

Upon their first meeting Avaldidida comments on the fact that Hvitserk’s eyes aren’t blue like the others’. Blue eyes mean danger. Completely misreading her comment, Hvitserk leans in to kiss her and laughs in shock when she forces him backwards, the flat of her palm to his forehead.

Despite this, Avaldidida and Hvitserk become firm friends. Seeing her quickly becomes the highlight of every day for him. They hunt together on horseback, skin the pelts from their kills and spear fish on days when the weather allows it. She chuckles at how bad his aim is with a bow and arrow while riding and when he is able to smile along with her, Hvitserk knows his heart is no longer his own.

When Avaldidida does not show up that day for the ride they had planned, Hvitserk feels that something must be wrong. He travels on horseback to the nearby Mi’kmaq settlement to seek Avaldidida out and is immediately concerned by the scene that greets him.

A woman wails in anguish over the prone form of a young man. A bloody wound oozes in his chest, red and grisly. The settlement is a clamour of activity, as people rush to grab weapons and mount horses.

“You have to go!” Avaldidida says urgently to Hvitserk as she rushes over to him.

“What has happened?” Hvitserk asks, dismounting and placing a gentle hand on Avaldidida’s shoulder.

“There are people…like you.” She replies hesitantly. “They attacked a group that were fishing. They have killed Peminuit. We must defend ourselves. You cannot be here.”

“I’m helping you.” Hvitserk says without hesitation.

Avaldidida’s eyes go wide. She studies Hvitserk’s face to see if he is being serious.

"You would help us, Hvitserk?" Avaldidida asks, a hint of disbelief to her tone. "You'd be risking your life."

"And I'd do it gladly for you, Ava." He responds with a proud smile.

Avaldidida averts her eyes, a small smile playing upon her lips. Ava. She likes that.

“Do you have a weapon?” She asks.

Hvitserk unclips the axe from his belt, holding it out for her to inspect.

“That will not be enough.” Avaldidida states.

“Oh, trust me.” Hvitserk grins. “It will be.”

Hvitserk falls back into the throes of battle like it is the arms of an old lover. His heart hammers in his chest, he revels in the thrill of it all. Howling like a wolf, he hacks and slashes through men who, once upon a time, he would have fought alongside, not against.

He wears the blood on his face as proudly as the wolfish grin that never falters. It matters not that he is attacking and killing what are potentially fellow Northmen. He has a new purpose to fight for now; her.

When the last of their opponents have fled, their numbers cut back to too few to stand a chance, Hvtiserk screams triumphantly. His eyes search for Avaldidida and finds her sheathing the last of her arrows.

He strides over to her, pulling her into a tight hug, a wide smile still plastered to his face.

“We did it, Ava!”

His smile finally fades when she pushes him roughly backwards. He stumbles a little, confusion taking hold of him.

Avaldidida’s body language is rigid and tense, her facial expression is cold. Hvitserk feels he can see a look of slight disappointment in her eyes. It’s only when he looks around he notices the rest of the Mi’kmaq tribe are mirroring her body language, regarding him cautiously.

“Thank you for your help.” She says flatly, before turning to walk away.

“Wait!” He rushes to block her path. Hvitserk looks at her, his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with sadness. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Avaldidida sighs, bowing her head for a moment before looking up at him, a frown distorting her delicate facial features. “You take pleasure in killing, Hvitserk. There is no honour in taking another person’s life. We do it only to protect ourselves, not for enjoyment.”

Hvitserk stares at her, his mouth agape, too dumbfounded to say anything.

“Go back to your brother, Hvitserk.”, Avaldidida says, a tinge of sorrow in her voice. “You are too dangerous to be around my people.”

Hvitserk feels as though his world has imploded. No one has ever turned their back on him because of his prowess in battle before. He does not sleep that night, his heart aches over Avaldidida’s rejection of him.

He turns her words around in his mind; “you take pleasure in killing”. He used to. However, today he’d taken pride in defending the woman he loves and helping to defend her people. Perhaps it didn’t help that he’d never actually told her he was in love with her. But he was certainly no danger to her and he’d make her see that.

At dawn’s first light, Hvitserk is up and back on his horse. He will not wait around for Avaldidida to forgive him. He will earn it. He has never shied away from a challenge and this is one he is more than prepared to take.

Word quickly spreads throughout the Mi’kmaq as they spot Hvitserk’s approach. Avaldidida is already waiting for him when he arrives - an arrow strung in her bow and pointed directly at him.

“Leave or I will kill you.” She orders.

“If you wanted to kill me you would have by now.” Hvitserk says with a gentle smile, as he jumps down from his horse. “I’ve seen you hunt with that, you could have gotten me when I was a mile back, but you didn’t.”

She sighs, lowering her bow, holding the arrow as she releases the tension on the string. “Why are you here?”

“To give you this.” Hvitserk unclips his axe and lays it at her feet.

She says nothing, quirking an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“You are right, Ava.” He confesses with a slight shrug. “I did enjoy the battle yesterday, but only because I was fighting for you. My axe is yours, as is my heart. I don’t care if you never want to see me again after this, that is your choice, such as it is mine to fight for you.”

Her expression is unreadable as Hvitserk looks at her, although her body language seems slightly less guarded. Hvitserk takes a few steps back, having said all he wanted to say, he intends to leave.

He freezes in shock when she pushes forward, pressing her lips against his. When he doesn’t respond she pulls away, embarrassment radiating from her.

Hvitserk is quick to regain his composure, realising his mistake. He pulls her to him and kisses her hungrily, something he has yearned to do since the day he first laid eyes upon her.

She smiles as their lips finally part, their foreheads resting together. “At least you are a better kisser than you are an archer.”

#vikings fanfiction #vikings history #vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x ofc #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk's heathen feast #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk x oc #vikings fic #vikings history channel #vikings fandom

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katfett · 1 year

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Ivar, Nora and Hvitserk in The Little Valkyrie

#fanfiction #vikings #fanfic #ivar #romance #vikings fanfic #hvitserk #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #smut #vikings fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #writing #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk ragnarsson #ivar vikings #hvit

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years

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The Lothbroks, aka, the European version of the Kardashians.

Summary: When Barbie Murray time travels, she finds out that pink isn’t available in Viking times. Luckily, her new besties all understand that boobs are the best and slay (literally?!) with her.

Notes: I’m finally done! This was so much fun to write to all the kings, queens and gender-neutral rulers, enjoy this crack fic. It’s my new fave.

My inspos for bimbo dearest are Karen smith, Elle woods and the lovely @chrissychlapecka on insta

The character speaks Norse bc reasons and magic, and she’s besties with Hvitty bc he’s the biggest himbo in the series. Also she’s QUEER bc queer bimbos are the best bimbos. Only platonic relationships in this one!!

Based on this request, i hope you like it!

Barbie

There are a few things to know about me, Barbara Murray. One, don’t call me Barbara, unless you want me to put you on my list of idiots and douches. Barbie or babe is fine. Two, I LOVE pink and three? Umm, well, I kinda forgot about three. We can come back to it later.

Anyways, you may be wondering, what is this thing? Technically, it’s my English notebook, but I’m in a cellar right now. And it’s weird. Plus, Annie Frank got famous for her diary, and we don’t even know if she was up to date with the tea from the forties.

The cellar is really musty, and I hope that they’ll just get me out of here and sell me back home. This sicko with brown clothes found me in the woods with a bunch of other men who all haven’t showered in at least a week and dragged me down here!

He tried to take my purse too, but there’s no way that I’m letting go of my baby, so I whacked him over the head real hard and he let it go for now. I’ve been here for what? Three days now?

Let me be honest, the food they have sucks too! And not only because it doesn’t fit my diet (I’m totally animal cruelty free by the way) but also because it’s just gross. It’ll be good for my stomach though. Like a natural detox or something.

On the first day, the castle was totally loud, and I couldn’t even sleep, but then it got kinda quiet. This old guy with a beard came down here, and he gave me Santa vibes, but in a bad way. He gave me some wine – that was good at least and then he left again. Right now, this priest (or at least I think he’s a priest, he’s been singing in Latin or so) is staring at me. Everyone stares at me here, but I know it’s just because they’re jealous of my jumpsuit.

Actually, maybe my daddy screwed them over too, and that’s why I’m here.

“Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.” The priest suddenly said.

Gloria Patrizi? I know that girl!

“You know, I don’t understand half of what you’re saying babe, but you should know that Gloria is a total bitch. She’s a cheater and she broke my baby brother’s heart!” I tried to tell him, but he just kept going. Don’t ask me why, neither of us was getting anything out of the conversation.

And then, this priest had the audacity to throw water at me! Literally! He just splashed it on my hair. I told him some nasty words that I won’t put into my biography and then he looked terrified and left. Kinda rude of him.

Well, after that I tried to get some beauty sleep but then they had the audacity to ring church bells! Who even does that in LA?

Hvitserk

The raid had been successful of course. Who was going to stand in the way of the Heathen Army? Or him, for that matter? However, his brothers were fighting again, over what to do with the Saxon king, and he didn’t want to listen any longer.

Harald’s men were already searching for wine in the cellars, but Hvitserk was more interested in the people that had been left behind in the dungeons. Perhaps one of them would be able to tell him more about what happened to his father.

He found himself disappointed at the amount of prisoners. At first it seemed like there were none at all, but when he got to the last cell, he saw a woman sitting in one corner, wearing extremely bright clothes. Brighter than anything his mother had ever worn!

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” Hvitserk demanded, hoping that the name would ring a bell in this woman’s mind. She looked up, and Hvitserk narrowed his eyes at her make-up. She wore something that was similar to the eyeliner Yidu had once drawn on herself in Frankia and her eyes were encrusted with – were those gems?!

It was either gems or something else that was glittering while she turned her head.

“Who?” she asked. “Wait, is he famous? Or is that your name? It’s a weird name if you ask me but- “

“You speak Norse?” Hvitserk interrupted.

The woman snorted and rolled her eyes, as if Hvitserk was the biggest idiot to ever grace the Earth. “No, I’m speaking English sweetie.” She laughed.

Hvitserk found himself blushing under her open affection. She was certainly more direct than other Saxon women.

“I’m Hvitserk.” He introduced. The woman’s brows furrowed for a moment, and she laid her head to the side as if she was pondering over a difficult question.

“That sounds like a sneeze babe, no offense. I’m going to call you babe, okay?”

“I’m not a babe!” Hvitserk protested angrily, stepping towards the cell’s bars. Instead of shrinking back, the woman only rolled her eyes again.

“Fine, I’ll call you Hvitty then.”

“And you?” Hvitserk asked. If she was going to be rude about his name, he would be rude about hers.

“What about me?” the woman asked. Absentmindedly, she took a vial with a clear liquid inside out of her bag and smeared some on her lips. It made them shine nicely, and momentarily, Hvitserk was distracted before he snapped back to attention.

“Want some? It’s cherry flavored.” She offered, holding the thin stick from the vial out.

“I like cherry.” Hvitserk agreed, and stepped even nearer, unsure why. The woman put some of the liquid on his lips and a sweet smell that was much to strong immediately hit his nose, before he licked his lips to taste it.

It did not taste much like cherry.

“Why did you do that?” the woman shrieked, and she looked flabbergasted (one of Hvitserk’s favorite words).

“You said it was cherry flavored.” He shrugged. She huffed, crossing her arms.

“So what’s your name?” Hvitserk tried again.

“Oh my name! It’s Barbara.” She began, but suddenly she jutted her finger out, stabbing a brightly painted nail into his chest. “But! Don’t call me that! Call me Barbie!”

“Barbie? That’s not a real name.” Hvitserk laughed and the woman turned on her heel, grabbing a small, also very bright sack from one corner of her cell.

“Well, I exist, so it’s real.” She said, as if that was the most obvious thing. “And I don’t really know what a Lothbrok is, but maybe that’s just because you’re European.”

European? What did that mean? Was it an insult?

“I’m also a Lothbrok.” Hvitserk informed her proudly, trying to ignore the fact that she wasn’t paying much attention to him, instead staring into a small, round device. Suddenly, she snapped it closed and smiled at him brightly.

“Oh! So it’s like a last name? That’s super cool. Hvitty, do you have the key for this cell? I’ve got a mani-pedi scheduled with my girls tomorrow and I really need to get home.”

Hvitserk didn’t bother asking what a mani-pedi was supposed to be, choosing to instead grab the keys from one of the dead guardsmen. When he came back, Barbie was brushing her hair, but clapped her hands together at the sight of him.

“Bestie! You’re back!” she squealed, and Hvitserk found himself more and more confused by her by the second.

As soon as the cell door was open, the woman walked outside, immediately hooking her arm with Hvitserk’s. He would’ve made a comment about it, if he hadn’t noticed her strange shoes in that moment. They were, of course, in that bright color he had never seen before, and had stilts at the bottom. He almost wanted to shake his head.

Somehow, Barbie noticed, immediately stopping in her tracks. “Are you hating on my heels? ‘Cause I can run in them, and I’ll run after you if you make one shady comment.”

“I’ve- I’ve just never seen such shoes before.” Hvitserk stuttered.

“Men.” Barbie muttered under her breath but put her arm back in his. “So, are you like, the only Lothbrok? Or are there more Lothbroks? ‘Cause my family is like, big. You know, I have lots of siblings, and half-siblings, and stepsiblings and everything. My daddy calls it the horribly big Murray clan, but I like them all.”

“I have four brothers. One half-brother and three full brothers. They’re fighting, so I doubt- “

“Family drama? There’s no way you’re keeping me away from that.” She protested, before coming to a halt before the guardsman.

“Is he like, dead?” she whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Hvitserk replied, also lowering his voice.

“He could be sleeping! It’s important that your sleep cycle isn’t interrupted, that’s just bad for your skin.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s dead.” Hvitserk said.

“Pretty sure?” she shrieked. “You didn’t check? Did you kill him?!”

“I did not kill him.” Hvitserk replied, trying to hold back his laughter as Barbie prodded the Saxon with her ‘heels’.

“You should totally introduce me to your brothers.” Barbie demanded, and Hvitserk almost wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. She obviously had no idea how dangerous they all were, but she had survived the Saxons with all her bullshit, and speaking Norse, so he decided that this was all fate.

“Just to prepare you, my youngest brother Ivar has a bit of a temperament.” Hvitserk said, but as Barbie cheerfully nodded, he gave up on warning her – she’d manage somehow.

***

Ubbe was the first to notice Hvitserk and Barbie standing in the doorway, and Hvitserk quickly noticed the questioning brow his older brother gave him, quickly shaking his head in response.

“Hey guys!” Barbie began enthusiastically, “Are you Hvitty’s brothers?”

While the others stared at her, Ivar began to snigger. “Hvitty?” he asked.

“Yeah, totes!” she replied. “It’s my nickname for him. Who are you? Ivar?”

Ivar seemed a bit taken aback by her manner, just like Hvitserk, but still nodded. She listened as the other brothers introduced themselves and then nodded to the ceiling.

“Okay, but why do you guys have a guy in a cage? Are you some kind of cult?”

“That’s the man who killed our father.” Ivar replied darkly.

“We’re getting revenge for him.” Sigurd added.

“That’s like totally medieval, but I love it for you guys!” She laughed, walking over to Ivar. “Can you scooch over a bit? That cell was like, totally uncomfy and I really need to rest my knees. Walking in heels is hard work.”

Hvitserk was surprised when Ivar did move, and Barbie sat down next to him, crossing her legs and setting her bag down on her knees.

“So who are you, and what is it you do?” Ubbe asked.

“Well, I’m Barbie, and mostly,” she paused for a second, stretching out her legs and leaning onto the chair. “Well I guess I slay, most of the time.”

“You” Bjorn began, “Are a warrior?”

“Well that’s what my Pilates coach says.” Barbie shrugged. “Do you guys do Pilates too?”

“Is that a fighting style?” Ivar asked, suddenly interested.

“No! It’s a lifestyle. Of course, I don’t expect you guys to understand. You look like tough mudders, which is totally gross because my ex did it every weekend. Being the supportive girlfriend I am, I went with him and it ruined two of my handbags and three pairs of heels!”

Slowly, Ivar began nodding along. He was confused, just like the rest of them, but Hvitserk could tell that he found her just as amusing as he did. “And what did you do in response?” he asked.

“Well, I asked him to apologize, and when he went on an ego-trip because of it, I broke up with him.”

The conversation went on for a while, and Hvitserk watched as Barbie answered all of his brothers questions. He was beginning to realise that she probably wasn’t Saxon or Viking, or anything else they had ever encountered.

“Where are you from?” he asked carefully.

“LA, duh. I’m American, even though that’s gotten a little problematic nowadays, but it’s the Golden Coast, so I still slay.”

Before any of the brothers could ask her any more questions, King Harald burst in.

“Are you finally done with Ecbert? The people are getting impatient.” He announced, not noticing Barbie. Absentmindedly, Hvitserk let his hand wander down to the axe in his belt. He liked Barbie, and he considered her a sort of strange friend.

“We are not.” Ivar replied. “Tell them it’ll take some more time.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Harald said.

“Why? Because I’m the youngest or a cripple?” he asked. Hvitserk heard Barbie gasp.

“Ivar! Don’t let others define your worth like that! I think you’re amazing. You know what, you can do what Ivar says. I might only have known him for an hour or so, but he gave me a seat, so I’ll be the judge of character here. I think you suck.”

“And who are you?” Harald asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Barbie Murray. Last year’s Miss California, and the best fashion advisor you could ask for. And it looks like you are in desperate need, mister.”

To Hvitserk’s surprise, Harald did not kill Barbie on the spot, instead choosing to turn around and slam the door behind him.

“Hvitty, is he always like that?” Barbie asked, and he nodded with a sigh.

“Come on, I can’t imagine the Saxons gave you very good food while you were in there, let’s get you something to eat.”

***

After dinner, Hvitserk and Ivar made sure that Barbie got a well-protected and comfortable tent to sleep in, and Hvitserk himself was about to settle down, when he suddenly heard a shriek from Barbie’s tent.

Immediately, he sprung up and hurried to her, only to see her kneeling over her ‘handbag’.

“Hvitty, it’s broken!” she cried, holding it out to him, and Hvitserk realized that there was a large tear in the leather. He would’ve laughed at the comical horror in her eyes, but during the day, he had learned how much her handbag meant to Barbie (almost as much as her current girlfriend), so he rushed to her side to examine the tear.

“Oh this world is so cruel!” Barbie cried, and Hvitserk attempted to pat her on the back.

“Don’t worry Barbie! .” He reassured. “I’m sure one of the shieldmaidens will be able to help you.”

Barbie sniffled on his shoulder, but nodded, leaning into Hvitserk as they walked towards another part of the camp. Hvitserk had to smile to himself. His new friend might be strange, but she was one of the kindest people he had ever met, and that included Helga. He was going to get that bag fixed for her.

#barbie murray #hvitserk #ivar #ubbe #bjorn #harald #sigurd #hvitserk x oc #ivar the boneless #vikings #ivar lothbrok #history vikings #request #hvitserk ragnarsson #bimbo oc

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ser-rctslcyer · 1 year

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Teeth Stained Red || Hvitserk

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Hviterk/OC | Hvitserk & OC

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Creature & Monsters, Violence, Graphic Description of Corpses, Blood and Gore, Animal Death (please heed the warnings if you are sensitive of any of this)

Word Count: 3k (2 chapters)

Summary:

Hvitserk had barely turned four when Aslaug had noticed her son was different. He slept less, his senses were sharper and he always complained that he was always hungry. It wasn’t till she found him with a corpse at his feet that she realized he was not human— but that wouldn’t stop her from loving him. He taught ways to curve his craving but it is not enough as he continues to grow. Kattegat flourishes during the spring and the influx of bodies is driving him to the edge– and there he meets Gæda.

This is my entry for the @vikingsbigbang Winter'22 event! Gifs were done by the glorious @ivarthebadbitch!

I struggled a bit to come up with an idea for this but I settle on something a little odd (as usual). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

Read the full fic on AO3

#rct fic #hvitserk x oc #vikingsbigbangwinter22 #vbbw22

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 months

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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 18

Here it is, friends! The promised update! A massive thank you to everyone who replied to my prior post. You guys are truly the best and y'all give me the desire to finish this story.

I'll confess, this chapter is short (by my standards). I also feel like its not up to my usual quality of writing, so please give me some grace as I step back into the world of writing and remembering how to use words.

Lastly, if I missed anyone who wants to be added to the new tag list, please let me know!

Words: 3900

Warnings: Violence (both graphic and implied), swearing, Ivar still struggles with feelings

Series Masterlist

The day of reckoning had come.

A red sun rose that morning. The locals glanced nervously at the sky and muttered under their breath at the strange sight. But Ivar knew what it meant. A blessing on this day from the old gods.

Everything had fallen into place far more easily than he anticipated, a blessing indeed. The manipulation, the lies shared to convince the traitors to meet with him, feigned ignorance to soothe any worry of their deceptive being known. It all dripped from his lips like poisoned honey, until it was too late. Until the door was shut and a gun was pointed at their heads. Then he dropped the façade and allowed his guile to show. Only then were the traitors introduced to the truth of their failed scheme….and become close acquaintances with his knives.

It was a day for justice.

A day for vengeance.

And Ivar relished every moment.

*****

Amidst the dim light leaking through the few windows into the basement, the stench of dry, stale air, piss and blood permeated.

Two men knelt on the concrete ground before their executioner. Naked, with their clothing scattered beneath them, cut from their bodies with artful precision. Arms outstretched as in the worship, yet thick rope bound them to this position. Not as devout petitioners, but as those in bondage without even a god able to save them.

For Armageddon had arrived, led by a blue-eyed devil with a malicious smile and blood dripping from his knives.

Studying the one still conscious, he casually wiped the traitor's blood from his knife with a clean rag, for he refused to miss a single moment of pain or despair that was to come.

The trial of judgment had not truly begun yet. This was only the first act.

A vibration from his phone drew his attention away momentarily as he checked the text. A smirk adorned his face as he replaced the phone in his pocket and returned his gaze to the one before him.

"They are here." Ivar stated, "should I wake your friend? He's been unconscious for some time now."

The traitor remained silent, his eyes staring at the gray floor, even as blood slid down his skin like raindrops. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, almost as if in meditation. But Ivar knew better. The man was waiting. Biding his time. Enduring the pain until the others came.

Unfortunately for him, no amount of waiting would save him from what was to come.

Ivar glanced over to the other man on the left. Before he had even been restrained, the man had pissed himself and was begging for mercy, crying out and spewing secrets and half-truths in the futile hope for forgiveness. At the first pass of knives over his flushed skin, he fainted.

Fucking pathetic.

At Ivar's command, buckets of cold water had been tossed on the sniveling coward to awaken him. He would not get away from his prescribed torment. Not that easily. Twice the man fainted while receiving his medicine. And twice Ivar had him painfully revived. This third time, Ivar allowed him longer in his brief respite. But no longer.

The day of vengeance had arrived for those who betrayed the Lothbroks, and Ivar would see they were conscious for every moment of it.

"Wake him up."

At Ivar's command, his white-haired driver picked up the bucket at his feet and tossed it on the unconscious man.

The man sputtered and gagged, returning to the land of the living and the land of his torment. Immediately he began whimpering, as if that could save him. As if anything could save him now.

The echo of footfalls on the wooden staircase sounded in the basement.

Ivar's smile widened as he met the pained but calm eyes of the traitor kneeling before him. "Better start fucking begging for forgiveness."

Ragnar came around the corner, followed by Lagertha and Bjorn. A gasp filled the air once they came into sight. A sound of recognition. A sound of disbelief.

“Please! I'm sorry! He made me do it!” The coward began sobbing, his whole naked body shuddering at the strength of his cries and voice. “Please! I didn't–”

“Silence!” Ragnar roared, drawing close, eyeing both men. A predator inspecting the prey. His bright eyes glared at both men, focusing most of his anger on the one known to him. “You thought you could betray me?” He crouched before them, studying them, reading them. A devilish grin grew on his lips after a moment. “How'd that go?”

He chuckled darkly as he stepped to the side, already knowing the outcome but here to watch the show. With a quick glance to the side, he gave permission for another to step forward and to hear the case.

The coward continued to whimper but wisely made no move to steak. A pity really, Ivar was hoping to cut out his tongue.

"Kalf?" Lagertha asked, coming closer. The initial look of shock faded away, leaving behind confusion and anger. A deadly combination.

"Lagertha, there's been a misunder-" Kalf started to say but cried out in pain after Ivar hit him on the side of his head with his wolf's head cane.

Ivar returned the cane to his side, leaning back in his plastic chair casually. "Tsk tsk. You do not speak unless spoken to." He shifted his gaze to his father's first wife. “All the evidence is on the table over there.”

Lagertha followed the nod of Ivar's head, looking towards a table pressed against the wall. On it were stacks of papers, all the threads from the web of betrayal, cut and laid out to prove his betrayal. Every string, every conversation, every transaction, every knot in the thread. The damning evidence Ivar had been gathering for months. All there in black and white.

With a resigned sigh, Lagertha glanced down to Ivar. “I believe you.”

Ivar nodded silently, shifting the cane from his left hand to his right, still encased in the damn cast. He had never liked Lagertha and she had never liked him. They tolerated one another but that was the extent, prefering to avoid one another's company in casual or public settings. Except when it came to business. There was an unspoken respect they harbored for one another in this one regard; and for her to take Ivar's word alone on this matter, furthered his respect for her.

He did notice that Bjorn walked over and started leafing through the papers. Maybe his eldest brother was finally learning to use his half-wit brain.

The fierce businesswoman moved to stand in front of her lover, seemingly uncaring of the splatters of blood and shredded clothing under her heeled boots. “Why?”

He opened his mouth, eyes full of hurt and hope, but before any sounds escaped, she cut him off.

“Do not lie to me, Kalf.” She practically snarled, a she-wolf rising in fury, with no sight of a heartbroken lover.

He gazed at her, tone beseeching. “I did it for us.”

Her hand moved so fast that even Ivar did not catch it until the loud sound of a smack echoed in the basement, followed by Kalf's grunt as his head jerked to the side.

“If you did it for us, you would have included me in your schemes.”

Kalf worked his jaw before returning his gaze to his lover. “I planned on it, but–”

Another smack reverberated in the air.

“Try again.” Lagertha spat out.

Ivar could see it. The moment Kalf's pretense swiftly crumbled. His face hardened, eyes switching from a hopeful innocence to angry slits. His body tensed as if preparing to fight back, to finally show some spine and no longer take the abuse.

“I knew we could run the organization better. Make more money and be unstoppable. But I knew…I fucking knew you'd never leave Ragnar. You'd never leave his side because you'll always be his side bitch. So I did what I had to.” Kalf grinned but there was no humor. Blood darkened his teeth, giving him a monstrous look. “Does that make you feel better, baby? I'd have given you everything but you'll always run back to Ragnar. You never stopped loving him, you just got better at hiding it. What a fucking waste. I would have made you a queen!”

Lagertha yanked out a pistol from the holster on her thigh and aimed it at Kalf's head. Hand steady. Lips in a thin line. Eyes focused on him. A she-wolf ready for the kill.

Kalf chuckled darkly. “You won't do it, my love. You don't like getting your hands dirty.”

Ivar waited to see the outcome. Ragnar already commanded that Lagertha was to choose Kalf's fate. A fucking waste in Ivar's opinion but he relented. Hopefully he would be given the other one, an example needed to be made. Although the other man was only the accountant to scrub the books and try to hide the betrayal, not the mastermind that Kalf was, he was still involved. That was enough to earn his death. Preferably at Ivar's hands.

But Kalf's death would be decided by Lagertha.

Ragnar and Bjorn watched from the sidelines, witnesses to the impending justice against their organization and family. Holding a paper in each hand, fury coated Bjorn's face, understanding of the undermining that had been allowed to run rampant for too long, especially by one he trusted. With arms crossed and an impassive expression, Ragnar watched on. When Ivar caught his eye, he received a nod but returned his gaze to the show, waiting for his ex wife to make a decision. All the papers and what they represented were already reviewed by Ragnar as Ivar discovered the treachery.

After a long tense moment, a gun shot rang out. Almost deafening in the small basement. Yet no one flinched. The sound as familiar as birdsong for those still breathing.

Surprise and pleasure flooded through Ivar as the coward's head lolled loosely, brains blown out and splattered on the wall and floor. Payment for his crime painted for all to see.

Kalf jerked his head to look at his accomplice and then back to his lover, confusion and shock in the lines of his face.

“You shouldn't have dragged Philippe into your mess.” Lagertha calmly said, replacing her pistol at her thigh. “Ivar, he's all yours. Do with him what you want.” She took a step back. “Good bye, Kalf.” Then with the poise of a queen, she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, washing her hands of her former lover and his demise.

In the next moment, a hand landed on Ivar's shoulder. “Good work.” His father commended. He gave him one more fatherly pat before following Lagertha up the stairs.

Ivar grimaced as he knew his father was following his first wife to help her blow off some steam. Something that happened but no one spoke of.

A different set of footsteps came to his other side. As Ivar looked up at his eldest brother, a grimace on his own face at his parents, echoed Ivar's own sentiments. With a shake of his head, Bjorn looked down at Kalf who had gone suspiciously silent and still.

“I thought she would shoot you…guess she thought that was too fucking easy for you.”

Kalf spat out a bloody mess towards Bjorn's leather shoes, eyes blazing and fresh blood trickled down his chin.

“Have fun with that one.” Bjorn said. “And try to keep your cast clean. Fuck, you'll never get all that blood out.”

“I'll get a new fucking one. Fucking hell.”

“Fine.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you going to do with him?”

Ivar shrugged, examining the man like a piece of marble waiting to be sculpted. “Cut off each of his own fingers and make him eat them?”

“That's disgusting.” Bjorn shuddered. “Don't take too long. We need you in Spain. We got a call on the way here.”

“What happened?”

“I'll fill you in after your fun, but it sounds like you'll be there a few days.”

“Okay.”

The eldest Lothbrok son opened his mouth for a moment, then stopped to lick his lips before starting quietly again. “Have you…have you heard from her yet?”

There was only one her that Bjorn could possibly be referring to and it made Ivar's blood boil even as his heart shattered.

“Shut the fuck up.” Ivar seethed, fingering the head of his cane, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he broke Bjorn's shins by striking him.

As if sensing the impending violence, Bjorn backed away. “Call me when you're done here.”

Ivar grunted, still beyond pissed his brother would bring her up right now.

“You know…my mom mentioned that Kalf had an almost irrational fear of fire.”

At Bjorn's lazy comment, Kalf's head lifted to stare at Ivar, face blanched and eyes wide with panic.

A truly ferocious grin appeared on the youngest Lothbrok's face at the pure terror radiating from the man before him. Even when his flesh had been pierced with Ivar's knives, beaten with Ivar's cane, the man had endured without fear. Oh, but the sweet scent of terror that radiated off him now…

Ivar barely heard Bjorn's retreating footsteps up the stairs. He turned to look at his driver, his long white hair tied back, highlighting his cruel scar on the side of his face.

“Toss me your lighter.”

Pleas for mercy tainted the air, but not for long.

*********

As he stepped out of the elevator, it took all of his mental capability to keep his feet moving purposefully and his gait steady. His eyes were gritty and dry from lack of sleep, his body threatened to revolt against his restless mind and collapse in desperate need of rest. He refused to acknowledge it, propelling himself forward. After this one last meeting, he would allow himself to give in and seek the rest his body so desperately needed.

Ignoring those scurrying around, he passed the several offices on the top floor of Ragnarssons Trading. The scowl he wore must have been fearsome for how quickly it made those plebeians scatter out of his way. Wise on their part. He was in no mood for empathy or kindness, traits he was not commonly known for anyway. He just wanted to fucking sleep. The temptation to stab anyone who tried to stop him was exceptionally high.

“You live!”

“Fuck off.” Ivar grumbled, more out of habit than true ill intent. Well, if he tried to stop him, there may be some violence.

Falling into step with him, Hvitserk looked smart in his gray suit, a clear contrast from Ivar's own rumpled jeans with t-shirt and leather jacket. “How was Spain? No, wait, you were just in Morocco. Or was it Turkey again?”

“India.”

“Hmm…What I heard, you've spent more time in dungeons and airplanes than in a bed. Those bags under your eyes make you look like a zombie. Ah hell, when did you last sleep?”

Ivar grunted, annoyed with his brother's ceaseless chatter and the reminder of his lack of self-care. “Father in his office?”

“I think so. I was about to go for a late lunch. Want me to wait for you?”

“No, I'd probably fall asleep before the food came.”

Hvitserk chuckled but did not dispute the claim.

The pair arrived at the door for Ragnar's office. With a quick knock on the wood and a following ‘enter’, Hvitserk opened the door for them.

Ragnar sat at his large desk, an organized chaos to all the things upon it. Scattered papers and files resided in piles, along with a cheap, tourist paper map of Stockholm spread out and a bronzed human skull which Ragnar refused to admit if it was real or not. Ivar had always bet it was real.

Torstein also occupied the room, standing behind the desk beside Ragnar, pointing at the laptop screen open in front of them. They must have been continuing speaking of logistics for a particular expansion of goods into Stockholm.

At their entrance, Ragnar kept his gaze on the screen while addressing him. “I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”

“I can just as easily report today.” Ivar ungraciously plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of Ragnar's desk. He winced at the impact and the sharp pain shooting down his legs. With more care, he set his right hand, still in the cast, on the arm rest.

At Ivar's audible pained inhale, Ragnar aimed his piercing gaze at his youngest son. “You look like shit.”

Ivar snorted. “The devil doesn't sleep and neither do I.”

That made Ragnar smirk and Torstein chuckle. From the other seat beside him, Ivar could feel Hvitserk's eye roll. Everyone knew that Ivar had been running himself ragged, anything to keep himself busy, which usually involved his face glued to a computer or phone screen or blood on his hands. Ever since Kalf's fall from grace and his fiery demise, Ivar had been cauterizing the wound left in the company…and reminding people what happened when they placed themselves on the Lothbrok's bad side.

“Suit yourself. Tor, finish this and I'll make a phone call–” Ragnar spoke to his friend but Ivar tuned him out.

He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest as he waited. His father was not wrong. He felt like shit. Then again, he had felt like shit for the past three weeks now, ever since Kari had told him she needed space. So he focused on what he could do for the family business. Anything to distract himself from what his heart yearned for. During this time, he learned it was easier to feel physically shitty and move on. It was much harder to ignore and move on when his heart was fractured and bleeding her name.

Eyes closed, his mind began to drift lazily like an autumn leaf, thoughts moving at a sluggish pace due to his exhaustion. He had tried to sleep in his car on the way here from the airport but sleep eluded him- still too wound up from the flight, too many cigarettes and too much caffeine. The trifecta of sleep deprivation. He never slept on planes, even on private planes, he could never relax enough. Especially when they flew over open water.

A buzzing from his pocket jerked him out of his almost meditative state. Without opening his eyes, he dug around in his pocket and pulled his personal phone out. Only a few people had his private number, preferring to direct most of his calls to his work phone, which lay silent in his other pocket.

“‘eah?” He mumbled amidst a sudden yawn.

A hesitant but professional male voice spoke. “Mr Lothbrok?”

“Huh?”

“Is this–ah, is this Ivar Lothbrok?”

His brain awoke on full alert at the implementation that a stranger had his personal number. “Who the fuck are you?” Those sluggish thoughts went into overdrive, trying to recognize the voice or how this fucker got a hold of his number.

“I'm Nurse Olsen, calling from the General Hospital. A patient we have gave us your name and number as an emergency contact. My apologies for bothering you, we just needed to verify. Do you know a Kari Larsen?”

What racing thoughts died a spectacular death by crashing into a wall of shock and disbelief.

Someone was calling him about Kari.

As an emergency contact.

From a hospital.

Where she is a patient.

A PATIENT!

In a strange form of whiplash, his brain went from a screeching halt in shock to overdrive of all the reasons she could possibly be in the hospital, each scenario worse than its predecessor. “Is she hurt?” He wheezed out, as his heart and lungs threatened to be strangled with the sudden fear that exploded within him.

“Sir, I'm not allowed to discuss patients’ wellbeings over the phone–”

“IS SHE HURT?!” He screamed, the building panic in his chest rising higher and higher, suffocating him.

His mind easily conjured her laying in a hospital bed, nurses and doctors swarming her like parasites, sticking tubes in her, cleaning up her precious blood, all in an attempt to save her. She laid there unconscious to her precarious position. Or maybe she was screaming for him. That was how they got his number. She needed him as she lay dying.

He drew a ragged breath but it failed to relieve the painful pressure in his chest. Gods, if she died….he promised. He promised to take care of her.

A new level of loathing sunk its claws into him, a demon from the darkest pits burrowed into his mind, taunting, tormenting.

He had promised.

And he failed.

Again.

“Mr Lothbrok, are you able to come to the hospital?” The nurse sighed before speaking again.

“Yes.” He croaked out.

“Excellent, what you can do is park–”

But the nurse's explanation was cut off as Ivar ended the call.

Ivar stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself. The floor beneath him shifted and rolled like waves. Or maybe it was the demon cackling in his ears, messing with his equilibrium. Spots danced in his vision but he ignored them, pushing past. He had to get to her. He had to see her. Was his heart even beating anymore? His chest burned, each breath a struggle to take. As he tried to slip his phone back into his pocket, he realized his hands were shaking. Or was it his whole body?

What exhaustion previously had taken root was brutally ripped out and replaced with a buzzing, paralyzing panic.

“Ivar? What happened?” Hvitserk's voice broke through. His hands grabbed his younger brother's shoulders, saving him from falling in his unstable haste to move. “Ivar?!”

“I–I have to go to the hospital.” Tears welled in his eyes, that terror and panic finally having risen to his mind, strangling his rationality, constricting his thoughts until all he could think of was Kari and he failed.

“What happened? Oh shit. Is…was that about Kari?” Hvitserk's eyes widened in horror.

“She's there.” Ivar gasped, weakly pushing his brother aside, hands still shaking. ”She's there right now. I have to go– fuck, I've got to see her.”

Stumbling, forcing himself faster than his crippled legs would allow, to escape the way his chest was collapsing even as he fought for breath, fought for each step. He had to see her. There was no other option.

She had to be okay. His kitten. He refused. He fucking refused to believe she was dying, even as his mind continued to create horrific scenes.

This was not how he wanted to be reunited with her.

Hvitserk grabbed his arm, steadying his erratic pace. “I'm coming with you.”

Gratitude swelled within Ivar but the panic clogging his throat refused to let the words pass.

The two rushed into the hallway, as fast as Ivar's crippled legs would allow. Hvitserk already had his phone out, calling Ivar's driver to have his car ready at the front for them. At the pounding footfalls behind them, Ivar glanced over his shoulder to see Ragnar following like an intimidating guardian angel.

Ragnar snarked. “Hurry your ass up or I'll carry you on my back like when you were a boy.”

“You're too fragile, old man.” Ivar managed to retort.

“Shut the fuck up, you little asshole, and let's go get your girl.”

As the three of them hurried out of the building, the same thought swirled like a growing storm in his mind.

Hold on, Kari, I'm coming. Just please hold on.

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

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paracosmoon · 2 years

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king harald finehair would've risked it all for megan thee stallion

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eu-nicola · 10 months

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vikings x fem!oc

It was going to be with reader but I needed to give it a name

my first language isn’t English and I didn't correct this

summary: vikings brothers have a sister who can control dragons and has powerful magic (anon request)

The baby Freyja had been born with an eye the same as that of a snake with a different color and pupil shape, it was thought that it was because of her ancestors and that it was a way of proving that in the future she was going to be a strong and powerful as her father was. And they weren’t wrong.

In one of Ragnar's trips he found a somewhat strange egg, larger than a normal one with scales and green in color, he took it and took it to his sweet daughter, this was going to be the compensation gift for being gone so long. The day her father returned home the little girl was playing away from everyone while they were looking for her, she didn't care and continued with her game because she thought it was funny how she could move the twigs in the air and throw them far away she even try to try with a big stone but it was too big for someone so tiny.

When they finally found her, her mother didn't realize what she was doing, she just told her it was time to stop playing and took her inside so she could see her father, he welcomed her with open arms and a kiss on the cheek. When the girl began to ask him a thousand questions about where he had been he immediately smiled and took out his gift, Freyja was surprised to see her new gift, it was beautiful for her.

Over time the girl realized that it was not a normal egg and saw a small dark green dragon come out of there, just like its shell, she loved this but she did not want to tell anyone because it was her secret, it was her dragon and if she said so maybe they would want to take it from her and she didn't want to, so she decided to hide it in a cave that she had seen once with her father and brothers not so far from the place but that no one ever went to.

Months passed and even in such a short time the dragon had grown immensely, Freyja, only 6 years old, escaped every day without anyone seeing her and brought the dragon something to eat, she always convinced a prisoner to follow her and she took them there for the dragon she had called "Arrax", certainly she was never afraid to take a prisoner because she knew that they couldn't do anything to her because she had her dragon taking care of her.

One morning Freyja was trying to get a prisoner and escape but for the first time her brothers saw her and instead of telling her something they just followed her to the cave with the prisoner being sure that the man was not going to do something before they killed but it was not necessary because they were surprised when they saw the dragon eat the man in one bite. Immediately the girl noticed the presence of her brothers and smiled at them as if what she had done was a little game. "brothers", the little girl yelled, she came to hug them and at that moment Freyja introduced Arrax to them and she tell them that he was a good pet and very pretty, when her half-brother Bjorn wanted to push her away, she immediately made him fly away the air raising it as she had once done with that twig but now she had been able to do it with it.

"Don't try to take me away from Arrax again." she told them.

At first everyone was so surprised at the beast that even they who are not afraid of anything for a moment were afraid of the dragon. For now no one was going to say anything but maybe in the future when his sister became a woman they would be able to use the dragon for their own purposes. Without speaking they all looked at each other and it seemed that they agreed even Freyja herself that she was already eager to ride the dragon and feed it with her enemies.

#vikings #vikings ivar #ivar x oc #ivar the boneless #bjorn ragnarsson #bjorn lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe lothbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #vikings hvitserk #imagine #oneshot #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #hvitserk x reader

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knight-of-flowerss · 6 months

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she-bear : chapter two

navigation | warnings : sexism, talk of battle | a/n : I did this at like half nine to half ten at night while being sick so sorry if it's bad😭 | wattpad | tags : @thethreeeyed-raven , @fangsp1der-2099 , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @thelirofnorthlands , @naaladareia , @not-that-syndrigast

When I was young grandmother would tell my siblings and I about a castle somewhere in Norway. It's walls are tall and wide, drum towers on all four corners, stone bricks mossy and decayed, a lavish courtyard and a great hall that would be filled with mouth watering courses.

It took over thirteen years until it was fully built. They started when I was five, thirteen years later I'm eighteen, still patiently waiting to go to this palace of wonders.

And the time finally came.

It was Greta's tenth birthday, festivities at a high with young children running around playing games, their mothers and grandmothers talking in the corners of the hall while keeping an eye on their curious children and the fathers and the grandfathers all in the study, drinking fine wine and talking about business.

All of a sudden all of the fathers are back in the hall and the mothers are rounding up their unruly cattle, trying to get them to sit still as everyone sits at the long tables and face the long Godfrey family table that sits higher than everyone else's.

My mother and father walk to their seats as my siblings and I take our seats, trying to keep the birthday girl still. After everyone is seated my father stands up with a cup of wine in his hands, "Today I want to celebrate my lovely daughter, Greta, she is ten years old today and she is nearly a young woman. With that I would like to gift my family with a large present. As you know, Greta has always wanted to live in a castle, Elsa lost her husband a few months back and times have just been harsh and stressful with the battle between our prideful Duetschland!," [Germany].

People cheered at the comment on our great nation, spilling wine as they cheered, "And the sly, cunning Poland, the route of all our problems. They think that they can beat us? Win this war? They are crazy like a woman who thinks she can be as powerful as a king!"

Men laughed at the comment on women and Poland, the many Ladies sat with uncomfortable smiles on their faces. "As soon as we win this battle and burn the traitors of Germany, my family and I will be leaving our motherland."

A few gasps left the mouths of the guests as shocked faces flooded the hall, including me and my siblings faces. Greta squealed with joy and jumped out of her seat, running to our father, running into him giving him a big hug. "Oh thank you father! Thank you!," she pauses and looks up, "But father where are we going? England? The Netherlands? France? Denma-" Greta was cut off as my father put his large hand over my sisters mouth with a small chuckle as she just looks up at him.

"Now, now dear pearl," He looks up and smiles at the guests in the hall, "What have I said about interrupting me when I'm giving a speech?", "not to... sorry father..", "It is alright pearl, anyways, as I was saying, we will be moving away from our great country for the sake of my children and parents. We will be going to a place that my father holds dearly in his heart and wants to spend the rest of his numbered days there, as most of you have noticed, my mother and father are not present, that is because they are currently settling into our castle that has been getting built for the last thirteen years."

Mine and my siblings heads shoot up, looking at my father. Could he be talking about the castle in Norway? The one we used to play princesses and knights dreaming about? We waited in anticipation as he gave a smile to the crowd.

"We will be moving to Norway, on the outskirts of Kattegat, a major trade city with the infamous Ragnar Lothbrok being their old king but leaving due to his failed attempt in Paris, we will be living near a peaceful trade centre which will provide fresh food and remedies for my frail father as he battles his illness."

My siblings and I sat in shock as the tales from our childhood were coming true. A smile etched its was onto my face as a I dreamt of a new beginning in a place that is known worldwide for its story of how the small fishing town became one of the most famous trading cities in the world.

#vikings fanfiction #vikingsfanfic #vikings #vikings smut #vikings x you #vikingstvshow #vikings x reader #vikings fic #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk fanfic #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk smut #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk fic #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok

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crowwritesaway · 1 year

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Ivar the Boneless Loyal Friend, Raven V

“What attack are you planning to do?” Ivar asked her, shaking his head.

“Hmm…I was thinking of many different ways I could sneak into this neighboring King. He’s been causing some tension between the border of my hometown and his.” She said, twirling a knife.

Ivar stared at her. “And what are those ways. Do you feel like it is going to fail?” His blue eyes shinning.

She licked her lip. She locked eyes with him. “No, but you can never be too careful. I may have plan A, B, C, D..but who am I to know whether one of my men will backstab me.”

He nodded, gritting his teeth. “Now, I do trust them. But, I’ve been hearing some things.” She trailed off, but stopped talking when she saw his eyes.

“Ivar…” She put the knife beside his bed. She sat at the edge of the bed. She grasped his face with her hand. Ivar leaned into her hand. “Are you in pain?”

Ivar sighed. “I know.” She comforted him. “Would you like me to get someone?” He shook his head. “Do you want me to bring the remedy from last time?” He nodded.

She hugged him. “I’m here. I’ll come back quick.” She got up and ran out his room. Ivar balled up his fist. Stupid legs. Stupid pain. Ugh. I can’t be this weak. Not in front of her.

She swung her door open. She picked up the remedy from her dresser and ran back out.

“I’m back.” She announced her presence. “Alright, let’s get you set up.” He grumbled. She crossed her arms. “Ivar, come on.” She insisted, walking over to his side.

He removed his braces. She set the remedy down. She had it freshly made every morning. It was a mixture of herbs that helped alleviate his pain. It was grounded into a paste that could be massage on his body.

“Take off your shirt.” Ivar tilted his head, grinning. “Wipe that grin off. I’m gonna massage you.” She said, smiling at him.

She uncovered the container and set the cover aside.

She scooped some of the paste and massage his shoulders. He looked at his lap. He held back groans. He closed his eyes and felt the tension on his shoulder fade away.

She moved her way down his chest. Ivar felt good. He felt safe with her. This is what made her his Raven. She knew what he needed. Meanwhile, Esperanza only enraged him and didn’t even bother with comforting him.

“Lay down.” She fixed his pillow. “Don’t I have to take my pants off first?” “Ivar!” She scolded him. He laughed.

“It’s okay. You must’ve forgotten. I wonder why.” Ivar teased her. She scoffed, turning around. “Whatever.” She blushed, annoyed for a moment. “So, do I undress or..” “Yes! Do it before I do it myself!” She snapped. She held back a smile.

He threw his head back and laughed. He took off his pants and covered himself. He put his arms behind his head. “I’m ready.”

She turned around. “Why thank you, my king.” He stayed quiet. King. That’s what I want to be in her eyes. Powerful. Unstoppable. Merciful at her but merciless at everyone else.

She scooped another handful of the remedy and applied it on his legs. She gently rubbed it on his skin.

He stared at her. Had it been anyone else, he wouldn’t through his hatchet at them. But his Raven, no. His Raven knew all sides of him. Just like he knew her. She’s not the rest. She doesn’t look disgusted. She sees me.

“Alright, I’m done.” She walked over to closed the container. Ivar’s eyes followed her. “Take a nap. When you wake up, you’ll be rested and be able to conquer whatever you want.” She told him, grinning. “What were you going to tell me earlier? What did you hear?” Ivar asked, sitting up. Raven rolled her eyes as she remembered what someone had told her last week. “Apparently, my fathers mistress plans to convince my father to let her son take my position.” She gritted her teeth. “There’s rumors going around that she has two men that report anything I do and say at my men.” She balled up her fists. Her nails marking her skin. “She better pray that I don’t find any of her followers because if I do, then she will watch as I take them apart.” Ivar clicked his tongue. “She wants what she can’t have. She’ll have to go through me and that son of hers won’t step a foot here unless he wants to lose it.” Ivar said, his eyes filled with anger. “I’ll deal with it when it happens. For now, rest. I can’t cause any trouble if I don’t have my shadow with me.” Ivar smiled. She waved bye and left. He sat up and crossed his arms. As much as I care for her, Esperanza…she needs to be dealt with. She had done something unforgivable. Could Raven know, maybe she could tell me?

Stay around for more of Ivar the Boneless Loyal Friend, Raven

#ivar the boneless x reader #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar fanfic #ivar x ofc #ivar x oc #ivar x plus size reader #vikings fanfic #vikings ivar the boneless #vikings fanfiction #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk x plus size reader #hvitserk #ivar the boneless fanfic #crowwritesaway

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istorkyou · 6 months

Text

A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings- Angst, violence, death, smut.

Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?

Word Count - 3113

Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree

Masterlist

Chapter 14 - Final Chapter

He is in a meeting when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Well, it’s not really a meeting, more of an information gathering session in a warehouse involving sharp instruments and spilled blood. He’s been taking on more and more of these ‘meetings’ since she disappeared, a good way to expel some of his rage and sadness productively.

He walks away from the man he is dealing with, wipes his hands on a cloth and gets his phone out to an interesting message on his screen.

One of her passports was used to get into the country three hours ago.

A smile quirks onto his lips very briefly followed by a deep inhalation of breath.

“You, take over from here. Just kill him. I’ve got the information I need now.”

He hears a gunshot behind him as he heads out to his armoured SUV to take him back to the estate.

When he arrives back he doesn’t go to the main house but straight to their house. He knows Ragnar would have got the same message and he needs to check something out first before he sees his father. He hurries to their shared closet, still full of her clothes and he pulls out the black shoes with the red soles, her stash spot, pulling out an untraceable phone. He turns it on and waits. The phone beeps twice. Two messages. Both from anonymous numbers, both from her.

Coming home. Too dangerous now.

See me before they get to me? I will come alone. I miss you so much.

He texts back quickly.

Yes. Will message soon. I love you. Thank you for all the photos last week, baby.

As he stashes the phone back he lets his finger run over the notebook that took him less than three days to decipher. One of the reasons he searched so hard for her and established secret communication. He cried for days when he broke the code and read her words. An anthology of love, dating from the night they met, describing every feeling she ever had for him, her deep love, the light he had reignited inside her after years of living in the black. Much as he had before he met her. The reasons why she acted as she did after Sardinia, the threats made against his life, the coldness she showed him when underneath she felt nothing but adoration. She explained it all in a diary she never intended for anyone to read. Her soul lives in these pages, and so does his.

Always and forever, no matter how far apart.

———————

He heads to the main house and into his fathers study.

”I am sure you’ve seen the message. She has returned.” Ragnar says without looking up from his papers.

Ivar nods. “I’ll take care of it. She will contact me soon, I’m sure of it.”

Ragnar looks up and stares into his son's eyes, carbon copies of his own. “Will you be able to finish the job this time? She cannot live, Ivar. She simply must die. If you feel like you can’t do it, or she will get the drop on you again I’ll send a whole team to hunt her down.”

“I’ll do it father. She is my responsibility. I will not fuck it up again. I’ll let you know when she contacts me and what the plan is from there.”

Ragnar nods in agreement and rounds his desk to embrace his son. “I am sorry for this, sorry it has to be done. You understand though?”

“I do. It’s been a long time coming,” Ivar says tersely, “I’ll speak to you soon.”

———————

He leaves the estate in his own vehicle, he drives for an hour and no one is following him. He pulls into a multi-storey car park and switches cars and drives for an hour to another car park and does the same.

It’s dark by the time he reaches the hotel. A shitty, off the track hotel he’d never be seen dead in usually. He walks as quickly as he can to a door and knocks three times.

The door opens a fraction and he pushes it the rest of the way, slowly revealing his wife to him. She has her gun pointed at him.

“Alone?”

“Alone, baby.” He steps in and shuts the door behind him before they walk quickly towards each other, arms pulling the other into a tight embrace, clinging to the other, tears falling.

“I missed you so much, Liet.”

“Fuck I missed you so much too.”

They pull at each other’s clothing, frantic to get the other naked as quickly as possible. When their goal is managed they fall onto the crappy, lumpy hotel bed together on their sides, her leg over his waist before he pushes her onto her back and he crawls over her, their mouths attached the whole time. She grabs his hard cock and lines him up a half a second before he pushes deep into her.

Their mirrored groans into each other’s mouths make them giggle.

“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” he says into her mouth before moving her inside of her, drawing deep, low moans from her. “I missed you every second of every day.”

“Me too, Ivar. Harder, please, harder!”

Their fingers dig into each other's skin, pulling into the other, trying to close the millimetres left between their bodies, a desperate need to feel every part of the other, a desperate need to fill the two year gap since they last were with each other physically.

It takes no time for their knowledge of each other’s bodies to kick in and they make each other orgasm. Shuddering against each other, the air blue with obscenities.

When they finally loosen their grip on the other they stay as close as possible, noses touching, laying on their sides, hands running up each other’s backs.

“Hi, baby,” he laughs out.

“Hi, love,” she giggles in reply.

They just stare at each other, who knows for how long. Long enough for him to run his hand through her longer hair. To run his fingers over some new scarring on her body. Long enough for her to touch his thigh where she inflicted a break. Long enough to revel in his eyes and compare them to his.

“Anyone since us, Ivar? Are you happy?”

“No one. No one ever again. Always and forever, baby. You?”

“Never for me, Ivar. You and only you. I need you to be happy again though. After all this.”

Ivar waves his hand as if dismissing her words. There is no point in lying to her, pretending he will ever let anyone in again so he just changes the subject.

“I did what you asked, love, I killed Lev.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she lets out a giggle of relief. “Thank you, Ivar. How?”

“I peeled his skin off slowly and I made him watch videos of us when we were happy, after the accident. He begged for your forgiveness and his life in the end, love.”

A nasty sneer flashes across her face. “Good, he deserves every second of pain you inflicted on him.”

A comfortable silence settles between them again before Ivar breaks it. “Where is he, Liet?”

“He’s safe I promise. I will need to get back to him in the early morning. That’s why I’m back, it’s too dangerous now. I’ve had too many close calls and I’m frightened for him. He needs stability, Ivar. I’m done running. I’m here to face what I need to, and to give you your son. You need to keep him safe from now on. I can’t offer him that any longer.”

Ivar knew this is why she had come back. Knew his men had almost caught her in Belize. Had heard rumours of her father almost tracking her down in Peru. Ivar almost gave himself away numerous times trying to throw them off her and their sons scent, Ragnar was suspicious at one point and that was when the Belize incident happened. He had warned her but a little too late. He begged her to bring his son back to him but she wasn’t ready.

She is ready now.

Ivar clears his throat, trying to dislodge the ball in it. “I am going to talk to my father. Things are different now, with the baby. I… I’ll talk sense into him. We can be toget…” the rest of his sentence is cut off by her lips crashing his. When she pulls away she gives him a little smile.

“Ivar. We’ve talked about this. Your father will not allow me to live, for his reputation and his own peace of mind. I knew coming back here it would be the end for me, I’m under no illusion I will not die tomorrow. I thought you had come to terms with it, baby?” She runs her hand over his furrowed brow and her thumb wipes a tear away. “Even if Ragnar allowed it, which he absolutely will not, I wouldn’t allow it. If my father knew I was back, knew about our son, he would never stop coming for me, for him. He wouldn't stop until we were all cold in the ground, everyone, your mother, father and brothers. There would be no peace until he had our son in his care. I can not allow that. I’m here so our baby can have a life without being hunted for the mistakes I made.” She is aware her voice isn’t as soft as she would like it to be, but she also knows that Ivar responds to this cold, detached hard truth. “I have loved you enough for a whole lifetime, this is how it has to be, love. You know this.”

He doesn’t reply, he nods stiffly and a silence settles between them.

“Liet. He will always know about you, I’ll never let him forget how much you love him, how much we love each other. No one will poison his mind against you.”

His heart breaks entirely to pieces as she crumbles down in front of him. She knows this is her last night on this Earth. Her actual last night this time. She is giving herself up for the sake of their baby. Their 14 month old baby who has his fathers eyes nestled in the features of his mother.

The greatest sacrifice a mother can make.

“Ivar, try to raise him out of this life. I know that won’t be easy, but send him to college, make him useful away from the violence. Make sure my father doesn’t get to him. Make sure Ragnar doesn’t ruin him. I’m trusting you with our baby, Ivar. You need to do for him what my past had robbed from me, a chance at a happy future. Be soft with him, like you are with me. Be loving and supportive no matter who he turns out to be or the choices he makes. Show him my Ivar, not the Ivar everyone else sees. Promise me?”

“I promise. I will be the best father,” Ivar says resolutely.

She gives him a genuine smile. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will.”

“Tell me more about him, baby.”

They spend the next few hours talking about him, his likes, his dislikes, how he sleeps curled up next to her every night with his favourite Elephant cuddly. She explains how rough the next few months will be for Ivar, he is his daddy but FaceTime can’t replicate a real connection. She explains how to best comfort him, what songs to sing him and how to make him laugh, what she wants for him in the future. She tells Ivar she has written letters for when he is older so he can understand what happened, but that it will be up to Ivar to judge when and if he feels their son can handle the information. Ivar says nothing, he just soaks up every word.

“I think that’s it.” She glances at her watch.”I will send you a text at 11am to tell me to meet me at 4pm. Your father will intercept it, we both know he will send someone. Just…. Just cover his eyes before, promise me you won’t both watch me die.”

“I promise. I promise you. We have 8 hours until I need to be home to get the message.”

“8 hours.”

“Those hours are for us and us only.” He reaches for his phone, and taps until the room is filled with music.

Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac.

He stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come dance with me one last time, baby.”

Her eyes mist over again as she goes to him, clinging to him tightly. She closes her eyes, compartmentalises the coming day and enjoys every second they have remaining.

————————-

9am rolls around and it’s time for him to go.

They cling to each other before she loosens her grip and grabs his face, pulling it closer to hers.

“In the next life, Ivar. I will find you in the next and every life we have after. Look after our baby.”

He holds her face, forehead touching hers. “This life and the next. I love you. I will keep him safe. I promise on everything I am, my beautiful Liet. The bravest person I’ve ever met, my fighter, my Valkyrie.”

They share a kiss, a kiss so full of love, pain, admiration and promise that they both smile and cry as they pull away and he leaves.

—————————

His phone beeps dead on 11am.

Meet me at warehouse 2c at 4pm. Just you. I have something for you.

He enters the main house to his father waiting in his study.

“You saw the message?” he asks his Father.

“I did. I wonder what she has for you?”

“A bullet in my brain I would imagine?”

Ragnar regards him, hard eyes travelling over his face. “Take your gun. You shoot her on sight. There is nothing she has that we need, nothing she can give you worth anything. Kill her and we can all move on.”

Ivar nods quickly. “That is my plan.” He turns to walk out of his fathers office.

Ragnar waits until the heavy slam of the front door hits his ears before picking up his phone. “4pm. The docks. Set up a sniper. Kill her if he hesitates.”

——————-

Ivar pulls up to the warehouse and sits for a second. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to stop the flow of tears that have been cascading down his face the whole 45 minute ride over. His heart is ripping to shreds inside his chest, despite having years to come to terms with it, a tiny sliver of bright hope lit his black soul thinking they could be a family one day. His rational brain knew it would never happen, she told him weekly it would never be the case, but the fact that the end is now is too much for him to bear.

But bear it he must. Not for her, or himself, but for their beautiful son.

He walks into the warehouse and his trained eyes see the minuscule glint from the sniper rifle up high in the corner. He will be sure to tell his father about the snipers fuck up.

His eyes find her, standing in the centre of the massive room, her back to him. His heart stops. She hasn’t brought the baby, he can’t see his son. When he is close enough he gets his gun out and points it at her.

“Liet?”

She turns slowly, their baby asleep in her arms, she doesn’t look at Ivar, she doesn’t take her eyes off their baby, soaking in every last second she has with him. He lowers his weapon as soon as he sees his son.

“The sniper is shit, love. I spotted him the second I walked in,” she chuckles lightly, “tell Ragnar I said he needs better men.

————

The sniper can’t hear what they are saying, and neither can Ragnar watching from his office from a camera feed attached to the rifle.

“Sir, she has a baby in her arms.”

“I can see that.”

“Shall I take the shot?”

“No. Do not dare. I’m pretty sure I am looking at my grandchild.” Ragnars eyes are full of tears. It’s been years since anything elicited such emotion from him. He understands now why Ivar has tried to keep her safe these past two years, not just out of love for her, but a fathers love for his child.

Ragnar wipes his eyes and rolls his shoulder. “Be ready. This is an exchange. When it’s done I will give the word.”

—————

Julietta gives Ivar a look of pure love. “Ready, baby? When I hand him to you I need you to turn away and walk out. Don’t watch me die, love. Okay?”

Ivar’s nods twice. They step towards each other, he drops his gun on the floor so he can embrace her one last time. With their foreheads touching, and tears on their faces she hands the baby to Ivar, bends down, sniffs the baby's head and kisses him before turning her attention back to his father, placing a slow kiss on his lips.

“In the next life, love,” she says

“Always and forever,” he replies.

She takes two steps back and Ivar swivels on his heels, clinging to his son, lurching away on his crutch.

———-

“Sir, shall I take the shot now?”

Ragnar is silent. His heart is breaking for his son but he knows what must be done. Even if he saw fit to let her live Ragnar knows her own father would never stop coming for her and if he were ever to catch up with her he would torture her to death. Ragnar rolls his shoulders and clenches his teeth.

———-

Ivar hears the pop and the whizz of the bullet from the sniper fly past him. He hears the grunt from her chest on impact and he hears as she falls to the floor with a thud.

The tears in his eyes blind him, he squeezes his eyes shut to clear them. He wants to scream up into the universe, make the whole world hear his pain. But he looks into the face of his sleeping son in his arms and knows he won’t, he won’t scare him. So he holds it in, to be let out at a later time when his son is not with him.

He will be the best father to their son

For her.

His beautiful Liet.

FIN.

#modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern vikings #ubbe #modern!ubbe #modern!hvitserk #ivar x oc #vikings fanfic #vikings imagine #vikings au #vikings ivar #ivar vikings #ivar #ivar smut #ivar fanfic #ivar imagine

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