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mrsalwayswrite · 4 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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mommytauriel · 8 months

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+ · 。~ OC chart for Thyra

This is my oc chart for my oc Thyra! She will be the main character for my upcoming Vikings story! I’m still wondering if I should post the story on here as well, please let me know what you guys think! I hope you guys like her!

This was my first time doing something like this! I’m definitely going to be doing this for other oc’s of mine 🤗

Feel free to send in some asks or questions that you have for this story! I would love to answer them 🫶🏻

#🧣oc thyra #vikings #vikings x reader #vikings fandom #vikings fanfiction #vikings fic #ragnar lothbrok #bjorn lothbrok #vikings ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe fanfic #ivar the boneless #vikings ivar #ivar ragnarsson #vikings fluff

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omgkatherine01 · 1 year

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Heart of Darkness: Chapter 2 - Freya Ragnarsdottir

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Pairing: Osferth x female reader

Please comment, like and share

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you lost your father and brothers.

Your uncle was now the new lord of Bebbanburg, to your and your mother's disappointment.

For two weeks, you had been keeping yourself inside your room, not speaking to anyone except your mother. Your uncle tried to reach out to you, but you closed yourself from him and anyone else besides the woman who gave you life.

"I was told you still haven't return eating properly," your mother muttered, both of you sat on your bed one morning.

You shrugged, and looked at the handcraft figure in your hand. It was supposed to be a warrior figure, but in your eyes, it wasn't very good. Your big brother however, complimented your work, and asked you for one weeks ago, which brought a smile to your pouty face and you immediately went on to work on making one for him.

Did he died holding your gift? you asked yourself sadly, not realizing a tear slip down your cheek while staring down at the wooden figure until your mother brushed the tear away.

"I know, my love, I miss them as well," she said softly. You released a shaky breath and glanced at her before looking down. "I will go tell the cook to make us breakfast, we'll eat here together, alright?"

You shrugged, and your mother took it as an agreement. She left you alone.

"What would you do with the little lady, my lord?" Scallion, your uncle's close ally, asked him when they and Father Beocca were alone in the Great Hall.

"Nothing yet," your uncle Aelfric said, "She is only seven, she needs to grow before I'll marry her off to a lord."

Father Beocca noticed a small smirk appearing on Scallion's face, and he didn't like it at all. "And who do you think of marring her to?" Scallion asked.

"Don't know, I'll find someone," Aelfric said.

Beocca opened his mouth, as if you remind them he was there but a guard walked in, "Excuse me, my lord, but you have a visiter. He claims to be a messenger."

"Let him in," Aelfric said. A man walked in and Beocca tensed, recognising him as one of the Vikings.

Aelfric tilted his head, "I don't know you. You don't have the appearance of a messenger. And Ubba's payment's not yet due."

Beocca frowned, Ubba's payment's not yet due? Did he... His blood was boiling by this thought and new information.

"No, lord," the viking said, "I was a ship's master."

"Ah, well. I have no ships. I need no ship's master."

"I have news that you will want to hear," the Viking said. Aelfric raised an eyebrow, "Well."

"I would want something in return, lord," the Viking said. Aelfric scoffed as he turned away. "Not now, not quite. But perhaps we could continue to help each other."

"Perhaps," Aelfric shrugged.

"Two days south of here..." the viking started, "Is a rat with the man I used to serve. Until he banished me. He has a slave. He treats him well. This is a slave you're entitled to buy back, if you wish to."

Aelfric frowned and repeated, "Buy back?"

"He's your nephew," the Viking said, surprising the men. "Uhtred, lord. He lives."

Aelfric had a calm expression of his face, but Beocca knew now that he was angry that the young lord had survived. He had to get to him, but first, he had to get you out of the castle, he did not trust your uncle around you. He quietly stepped out without anyone noticing, he had to inform your mother what was happening.

You were watching the sun setting down from your window when your mother had returned to your room again, you turned and frowned when you noticed her expression.

"Mother?" you asked quietly, blinking when she peered outside and then quickly closed the door.

"Grab your cloak," she immediately said in a hash tone as she hurried toward your bed. You stood from your window seat and stepped forward, confused and worried when she grabbed your cloak and started to tie it around you.

"What is it?" you asked, "Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, you are leaving this place," she said. You frowned again, not understanding, "Why? Where am I going? Does uncle taking me away?"

"No," she said, placing her hand on your cheek as she kneeled down, "You listen to me, never trust your uncle. You going with your brother to Winchester, you will be safe there."

"My brother?" you repeated. "Uhtred is alive," she said quietly, "Come." She took your hand as she stood up, and quickly moved to the door. You held your wooden figure on your left hand tightly, shocked by the information while your mother peered outside before pulling you out to the hall with her.

The two of you reached to the barn where Father Beocca was waiting with Uhtred's horse, which had returned alone that day Uhtred disappeared. A guard was by his side, and when he saw you coming in, he walked out to guard outside.

"Quickly," he said in a hush tone. You turned to your mother, looking up at her with a frown and tears in your eyes, "You not coming?"

"No, my love," she said softly and bend down to kiss your forehead, "I must stay here."

"But why?" you asked. "There's no time, my dear," Beocca said and looked at your mother, "I'm sorry, but you must go now before Aelfric will notice you not there to see him off."

Your mother nodded and looked at you again. She quickly pulled you into her arms, kissing your head, "My sweetheart," she muttered and pulled away, clearing your eyes and cheeks from your tears, "Be strong. Alright? Be strong."

You nodded, "I love you, mother," you muttered. "I love you too," she said and kissed your forehead again as she gently held your cheeks, "Tell your brother, that I love him as well. Alright?" You nodded quickly and sniffed as she pulled away from you.

With one last look at you, she turned and quickly left the barn. You turned to Beocca as he placed a small bag on the back of the horse and he turned to you. He placed his hands on your arms as he bend down, looking at you with a soft expression.

"It's alright, listen to me, carefully, alright?" he asked and you nodded. He pulled the hood of your cloak on your head, "I will be riding with your uncle to meet with your brother and the Danes that have him, you will ride from a distance, alright? You must not been seen."

You nodded quickly and he continued, "You will hid far from the trees in the forest. When we get Uhtred, he will ran to your direction, you two ride to Winchester. Uhtred knows where it is. You will ride there, and I will met you both there."

You nodded again, "All right," you said quietly. He lifted you up on the horse and handed you the reins. "Remember; follow from a distance."

You nodded and watched him leaving quickly.

"What if I'm against being ransomed?" Uhtred asked Ravn, the blind older Dane as he led him forward in the forest by the hand. The old man who was kind to the young boy since the day he was captured by him and his clan, gently held onto his hand and spoke, "Your family has discovered that you're still alive. And they wish for you to be returned. But they must pay."

Uhtred glanced back toward the leader, who he grew to like and look up to, "Pay Ragnar?"

"Ubba takes more than half," Ravn explained quietly, referring to the blond man with tattoo on the side of his face. "It's normal."

Uhtred gently let go of Ravn's hand and watched him step away. He frowned slightly, the only one he missed in his family was you. His little sister... and Uhtred hated to admit it, but he also missed your mother.

His step mother, who he never really tried to get along despite her kind words and protectiveness over him. He knew since he was little that Gytha wasn't his birth mother, and that his true mother died when he was a babe.

But she still viewed him like her own son.

Uhtred suddenly felt guilt thinking about the past. He should have been nicer, he should have called her 'mother' with more kinder tone, and be more of a son to her like she viewed him.

Uhtred never treated you coldly like he treated your mother, you were his sister, you both shared the same father, and he loved you since the moment you came into the world.

For two weeks that he been captured, he didn't try to escape and come back to you. He now felt like he had abandoned you.

You must now know that he was alive. He was worried that you thought that he had abandoned you.

He hoped not.

Uhtred forced a small smile when Father Beocca approached. "Uhtred," Beocca greeted with a smile. "They're treating you well?"

Uhtred nodded lightly, "I am fed, yes."

Beocca nodded, "Good, good. That's all we ask." He noticed something around the boy's neck, "What is that around your neck? Some symbol?"

"Oh, this?" he asked and lifted the necklace up, showing Thor's hammer that was gifted to him by Ravn's son, the leader, Ragnar Ravnsson, "They... they make me wear it."

"May I see it?" Beocca asked, looking at Ragnar who was leaning against a tree. With a nod, the priest approached. He took the necklace, and glanced behind him to see Aelfric speaking to Scallion, so he turned to the boy and spoke quietly, "Look, I will speak plainly, your uncle will kill you. Right, you cannot go back to Bebbanburg. You must escape. He wants to be the ealdorman. He wants to be the king, in fact, like the pathetic Egbert over there. A puppet king for his Danish masters. Your sister is waiting on the north side from here, behind you--don't look back." He stopped Uhtred from turning. "She can't go back too, she will be sold off when she will grow older. You two go to Wessex. King Aethelred, real king Aethelred... and his brother, the prince Alfred... they're good men, good Christian men--"

Ragnar stepped forward, "That's enough whispering in his ear, priest." Uhtred turned to him, breathing heavily. Beocca grabbed his arms, making him turn back, "Uhtred--"

"One more word, I'll have your ball bag for a purse," Ragnar threated calmly. "I'll meet you there," Beocca whispered before stepping back and speaking calmly, "That will not be necessary."

Ragnar watched him stepping away and looked down at the boy, noticing him staring at his uncle. "What did he say?"

"He... he asked if you were treating me well," he lied, glancing up at the man before stepping back, looking a little shaken up which Ragnar and his son noticed.

They looked at each other, knowing something was off. Uhtred glanced around, and finally spotted you before you moved away to hid.

His little sister.

Uhtred let out a soft shaky breath before he quickly turned away and looked at Ragnar and Ragnar the Younger to speak quietly, "I need to go for a moment to pee."

Ragnar clearly saw through him but didn't speak of it and instead looked at his son, "Go with him."

"I can go by myself," Uhtred said. "Not at this moment," Ragnar said as he shook his head a little. Uhtred hesitated but turned and walked away with Ragnar the Younger walking beside him.

The boy let out a soft sigh and nervously looked around as they walked a little far away from the group. "So, who is the little lady who is hiding around?" Ragnar the Younger asked, a little amused when the boy looked up at him worriedly.

"She's not in trouble," he said. "No, not from you," Uhtred muttered, "She will be if my uncle finds out she's here."

Ragnar the Younger hummed, "Well, then, bring her out. I won't tell and I won't bite." Uhtred looked up at him for a moment before looking around, "You can come out, y/n," he said softly.

You stepped out from behind one of the trees, leaving the horse farther away from where the three of you were at. You looked from the young man in hesitation to your brother. He nodded and gave you a small smile, as if he was scared you weren't happy to see him.

You walked closer quickly and jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. Uhtred hugged you back tightly, closing his eyes in relief. After a moment you two pulled away from the hug, but you grabbed into his arm when he turned to the young man.

"That's my little sister, y/n," he said and glanced at you, "This is Ragnar the Younger. I was with him and his family all that time."

You looked up at Ragnar the Younger and took a step behind Uhtred to hid behind him when the young man kneeled down. "Do not fear me, I won't harm you," he said.

"Are you going to tell them I'm here?" you asked in a small voice, "Because if you will, I will be in trouble." He nodded, "All right then. Then I won't." You looked a little relief and he looked at Uhtred, "What did the priest say to you?"

"My uncle will kill me," he said, "He's not here to bring me back, he's going to kill me as soon as he will get his hands on me, and he will get rid of my sister. He can't find out she's here."

Ragnar the Younger looked from him to you, watching you lowering your gaze to your wooden figure in your hand. He held his hand out, "Can I see it?"

You hesitantly handed your wooden figure, and he recognized it since he saw Uhtred with one like this a few times. "That's a very nice warrior figure," he complimented, remembering Uhtred saying you had made one for him. "Who made it?"

"I did," you answered. Ragnar the Younger smiled a little, "That is very good. Perhaps you would make me one as well."

That actually made you smile a little. He handed the wooden figure back to you, and let out a breath before nodding to the side, "You see that bridge?"

You and Uhtred looked to where he nodded and looked at the bridge farther away with a pond under it. "Yes," you answered softly and looked back at the young man.

"Go there, and wait for us," he said. "Am I to go with you?" you asked a little nervous as you looked from your brother to him. "Perhaps," he said, "After I will speak to my father, I am sure he will speak up to stop the ransom."

"So, will I be able to come with my sister?" Uhtred asked, his voice sounded a little hopeful. Ragnar the Younger simply smirked, "Who knows. Come on." He stood up and looked at you, nodding to the bridge, "Off you go."

You looked at Uhtred and he nodded to you. You quickly moved up the small hill and turned to watch them walking back to the others. You turned and ran to get Uhtred's horse to the bridge.

Ragnar watched his son and Uhtred walking closer. Ragnar the Younger walked toward him while Uhtred stood by a Viking, glaring at his uncle.

"Father?" Ragnar the Younger spoke quietly as he leaned closer to him. With a hum, he spoke again, this time much quieter so no one could listen, "That lord is going to kill him." Ragnar glanced at his son and then away, listening. "His little sister is waiting by the bridge, she can't go back."

Ragnar the Younger moved away a little and turned back to the rest. As they watched the ransom in fold, Ragnar was looking between Uhtred and Aelfric.

"How much?" his uncle asked. "300," Ravn said, sitting next to Ubba. Aelfric looked at them, scoffing, "That is a ridiculous amount. How can a boy be worth 300 pieces of silver?"

"Because I say so," Ravn said. "Because he is a lord and an ealdorman." Aelfric shook his head a little, "No, he is a boy. I am the ealdorman of Bebbanburg. I carry the seal and the banner."

"That seal is my father's, which is now mine!" Uhtred said, glaring at him.

"You be silent," Ubba said, "You are for sale, nothing more."

"For ransom, lord," Ravn corrected. Ubba nodded, "That's what I said."

"My lords, I have given up land, horses," Aelfric said as he sat down, "I've offered a generous supply of food as well as my sword. All I ask in return is a fair price for my only nephew."

Uhtred shook his head a little. "What would you say is a fair price?" Ravn asked.

"I will offer 100 pieces of silver," Aelfric said. "200," Ravn said. "My allegiance and 100 pieces is surely a fair price," Aelfric said.

"It is not," Ravn said. "I will give 120 pieces of silver for the boy," Aelfric said. Ravn laughed softly and shook his head, "Not enough."

Aelfric looked down for a moment, "Very well." He looked at Ubba and Ravn, "200 pieces. I agree to your terms." Ravn seemed disappointed that he agreed, since he was found of the boy and deep down he didn't want Aelfric to get him back.

Ubba opened his mouth to agree with the deal, but then Ragnar bend down and whispered something to his ear. He moved away and Ubba looked at him, surprised by what he was giving up.

Ragnar nodded, and Ubba turned to Aelfric, raising an eyebrow, "The boy is sold to Earl Ragnar."

Aelfric frowned, shocked, "What?" Beocca turned to Uhtred in surprise, and frowned when he noticed a relief expression on the boy's face.

"Ransomed, lord," Ravn corrected but he did show he was glad Uhtred will be staying with him and his family.

Ubba nodded, "That's what I said. The matter is closed." He stood up and Aelfric did as well, "My lords, I have come a long way. I have offered my allegiance."

Ragnar stepped forward, "Which is why you're allowed to breathe. If you have an argument, it's with me now." They stared at each other for a long moment, and when Ragnar saw Aelfric backing down, he smirked and walked past him, "If business is done, we have ale to drink."

"And King Egbert needs to shit!" Ubba joked and laughed at his own joke. Ragnar stopped in front of Uhtred, who looked up at him with a small relief smile.

"Let's get your sister," he said quietly and ruffled the boy's hair as he walked past him.

You waited with Uhtred's horse by the bridge for a little bit until you heard horses approaching. You stood by the horse and hold tightly into the reins as you saw people approaching on horses.

Ragnar the Younger and your brother were one of them. Uhtred was riding with the man you recognized from before the battle, who seemed to be the leader.

"Hold," he said and the four people with him stopped their horses. Uhtred jumped down from the horse and rushed closer to you, giving you a bright smile.

"It's okay," he said, "We'll be safe now." He looked at his horse and patted it softly as the leader got off of his horse with Ragnar the Younger and another blonde man with a tattoo on the side of his face.

"What is this?" the blonde man asked, frowning down at you. The leader approached to you and your brother, and stared down at you for a few seconds before kneeling down in front of you.

"Your name?" he asked. You hesitated and glanced at your brother before back at the man, "Y/n..."

He nodded and looked at Uhtred, who was staring at him. It seemed that they both were speaking with each other with only their eyes, and then, the man looked at you, and gave you a small smile, "Let's go home."

You looked at your brother who smiled brightly again, and looked at you, nodding. He stepped to his horse and got on it. You looked at the man as he got up and he offered you his hand. You hesitatingly placed your small hand on his larger hand, and let him led you to his horse.

It was a beautiful dark horse, and when you reached your hand up to it, it lowered its face so you can touch its nose. The man lifted you up to sit on his horse.

"Ragnar, you taking another?" the blonde man asked, raising an eyebrow. "She shouldn't be living apart from her brother," the man, Ragnar, said and got on the horse, sitting behind you.

"If that lord will find out the sister is with you, then what?" the man asked. "That won't happen, because she will be given a different name," Ragnar said and with that, the horse started to walk off, with Uhtred and Ragnar the Younger followed.

"Mother, they back!"

You lifted your gaze forward when you heard a girl calling happily. When you, Uhtred, Ragnar, Ragnar the Younger and the old man who was blind and named Ravn reached to the village, to one of the houses, two girls were outside playing when they saw you.

A woman walked outside and smiled. She looked at Uhtred as he got off of his horse and smiled at him as he moved closer. The two girls rushed closer to him and embraced him, which surprised him.

"You're back too!"

Ragnar got off of his horse before turning to you. He lifted you up from the horse and placed you down on your feet. He then led you closer to the woman, the two girls and Uhtred.

Ragnar the Younger helped his grandfather off of his horse and the two walked closer. The woman kissed Ragnar's cheek before looking down at you, giving you a kind smile.

"Hello," the young girl told you, giving you a smile, which you returned with a small shy one. "This is y/n, Uhtred's little sister," Ragnar said and looked at the woman, his wife, "And as from now on, they both will be living with us. As family."

She nodded slowly, agreeing with it. "We going to have to give her a different name," Ragnar the Younger reminded as he nodded to you, "Just in case their uncle won't find out she is here."

The woman kneeled down and reached for your arm, gently pulling you over to her. "I'm sure we'll find something that will fit you," she said softly as she brushed your hair. Her touch was soft and motherly, which made you think of your mother. "Brida, please get a fur coat for her."

The young girl nodded and ran into the house. "This is my wife, Sigrid," Ragnar said, and nodded to the other girl who greeted you, "And my daughter, Thyra."

Thyra smiled at you again as Brida ran outside. She put the fur around your shoulders to keep you warm. "Thank you," you muttered softly.

Sigrid watched you with a soft smile, "I had a sister when I was little," she suddenly said softly, "Her name was Freya."

"It's a pretty name," you said. Sigrid nodded a little, "Yes. She was also pretty as her name."

"Freya Ragnarsdottir," Ragnar said with a nod, "How would you like that?" You glanced at Sigrid to see if was alright, and she smiled at you. "I think it suits you well," she said softly. You gave her a small smile and looked at Uhtred, who smiled back at you.

#the last kingdom #osferth x you #osferth x oc #osferth x reader #osferth imagine #osferth #osferth fanfic #osferth x y/n #baby monk #ragnar the younger imagine #uhtred imagine #finan imagine #sihtric the last kingdom

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axxl-rose · 2 years

Text

Not Today, My Prince

Ivar the Boneless x ofc

Word Count: 2222

Warnings: Mature language, sexual content

The raid was a complete success, and the festivities continued in Kattegat, with throngs of locals joining the Viking’s celebrations, trying to catch a glimpse of the victorious men. The music was booming, and the drinks flowed like liquid gold as Lottie sat with the Ragnarsson brothers, perched between Sigurd and Ubbe, while Ivar and Hvitserk sat across from them.

Lottie squealed, the atmosphere infecting her being. “What a raid, boys! The Ragnarsson name is truly becoming something of legend.” She praised, raising her mead in a toast.

The boys let out their cheers, raising their cups in agreement. As the men clinked their cups, Sigurd threw an arm around Lottie, alcohol and adrenaline pumping through his veins. “It was incredible out there! We could not be stopped!” He cried, his arm tightening around Lottie’s shoulders.

Lifting his drink to his mouth, Ivar froze as his icy eyes flickered to the action, taking a swig from his cup with a clenched jaw. “Yes, it was fucking incredible.” Ubbe and Hvitserk grinned at each other, sipping their drinks slowly.

Clearing his throat, Ubbe leant in close, encouraging the others to huddle in. “We would’ve been better if somebody could throw an axe,” Ubbe whispered with a smirk, peeking up at his brothers.

The group sniggered amongst themselves until Hvitserk paused. A frown on his face, he pushed Ubbe hard enough to knock him off his chair. “Oh, fuck off! My hand slipped!” Everyone laughed; even Ivar let out a chuckle as Ubbe dusted himself off the floor, shrugging with a smile.

Lottie’s laugh was contagious, a melody that echoed within your head, and Ivar couldn’t look away from her. Her eyes danced with flames and her smile glowed brighter than it. She was a sight to behold.

Noticing Ivar’s stare, Sigurd rolled his eyes. “You still chasing after my girl, Ivar?” he drawled, his speech slurred as he dropped his empty cup to the floor. Ivar snapped out of his daydream and glared at his smug brother.

Noticing the tension grow, Lottie shook Sigurd’s arm off her shoulders. “I’m not your girl anymore, Sigurd,” she reminded him, but he hummed.

The atmosphere became stiff, and the people around the group quietened, their attention focused on Ivar and Sigurd, who locked gazes, neither one prepared to back down. Abruptly, Sigurd chuckled to himself. “You’ve probably imagined fucking her before if what I’ve heard from your room has anything to do with it,” he sneered, laughter sounding from the onlookers. However, his brothers didn’t snigger, and neither did Lottie. They all knew that this would end poorly.

Shaking her head, Lottie downed her drink. “Sigurd, that’s enough,” Lottie warned, glancing at a trembling Ivar, his hands clenched on the table, his veins rising to the surface.

Sigurd ignored her, leaning across the table into Ivar’s face, his breath reeking of mead and meat. “Imagine her lying bare on the bed before you, dripping wet because she needs you so badly.”

Hvitserk placed a hand on Ivar’s shoulder, whispering pleas for him to remain calm in his ear. Yet, Ivar shook off the hand with a snarl. “You better stop, brother,” Ivar growled, his face flushed.

“Her moans echoing all around you as her tight, little pussy wraps around your throbbing cock… it’s pure heaven, I’ll tell you that.” The once giggling crowd had gone silent as Lottie stared at Sigurd in disbelief, shocked he would speak of her in such a way, especially since she was beside him. “But guess what, Ivar? You will never experience this for yourself, as someone like her would never go for a boneless cripple like you.” Sigurd scoffed, waving his arm in his youngest brother’s direction. “You can’t even get it to work anyway.”

Ivar launched himself out of his seat, only being pulled back by Hvitserk and Ubbe before he could wrap his hands around his older brother’s neck and squeeze the life from him. “Don’t you dare speak about her like that, you piece of fucking shit!”

Sigurd just laughed and stumbled away, collecting his empty cup off the floor and ignoring a screaming Ivar and a frustrated Lottie.

†

The obnoxious celebrations and sloshed partygoers were doing nothing for Lottie’s thumping headache. Sigurd was out of line with how he spoke to Ivar and talked about her. As much as she wanted to leave this place and forget this horrid night, she needed to make sure Ivar was okay.

Putting her ear to the closed door of Ivar’s room, and not hearing the tell-tale noises of swearing and smashing, Lottie knew it was safe to enter. Tip-toeing into the room, Lottie raised a brow as she found a shirtless Ivar perched on the end of his bed, head in his hands, tense and trembling.

Hearing her tentative footsteps, wide electric blue eyes met her concerned ones, his body slumping slightly. “Lottie, what are you doing in here?”

Lottie shrugged, a gentle smile decorating her face. “Thought that I would come and find you… talk to you about what happened out there.” She mumbled, twiddling her fingers as she watched the cripple stiffen again.

Ivar shook his head, a scowl on his lips. “It is not you who needs to worry about it. Sigurd was a prick; he should not have said that about you. Ever.” He spat, making Lottie giggle.

“No arguments from me.” She huffed, plopping down on the bed beside him, a creak echoing in the room.

The two stared ahead of them, saying nothing, until Ivar sighed, pushing his braids out of his face. He bit his lip, ripping the sensitive skin as his fingers drummed on the bed. “You know it’s true, right?” He whispered, staring at the flicking fire in the corner of his room as if the flames would engulf him at any moment.

The hairs on her neck stood tall as she raised an eyebrow, turning to look at the worried Prince. “What’s true?” Lottie questioned, her breath unsteady.

Ivar’s leg was twitching as he bounced it up and down, his eyes locked on the blaze, afraid to look at the woman beside him. “That I admire you…” He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Well, ‘admire’ is a weak term. I’m in love with you!” He rambled so fast Lottie could barely understand the maddening man.

“Slow down, Viking!” Lottie laughed, a hand landing on Ivar’s trembling leg, causing his eyes to widen. “But yes, I knew this was true.” She admitted, giving him a cheeky grin.

Ivar froze as if ice water had drenched him from head to toe. “For fuck sakes… seriously? It was that obvious?” He groaned, pulling the ends of his hair.

Lottie giggled. “Besides the fact that you stare at me anytime I am close, you have a guard ‘secretly’ supervise me at all times, and you slaughter any man that dares approach me… yes, Ivar, you are kind of obvious.”

Lottie tilted her head, hair draping down her back as she observed the crestfallen Ragnarrson, who had thrown himself down on the bed beside her, covering his icy eyes. Besides the dull cheering ringing from behind the closed door, silence filled the room. Sitting up straight, Lottie cleared her throat. “So, if we’re spilling secrets, I should probably admit mine.”

Ivar refused to uncover his face. “You have a secret?” She hummed in reply, staring at Ivar with a grin he could not see. A harsh breath escaped him. “Well, what is it? It could not be more embarrassing than my ‘not-so-secret’ secret.” He snorted.

“I think you’re pretty cute.” The man shot straight up, wide saucers for eyes as he gazed at Lottie. She admitted, her grin becoming a broad smile at Ivar’s reaction.

“Are you fucking with me?” Ivar whispered, his jaw dropping low.

Laughing, Lottie shook her head. “No, I’m not fucking with you.” She stated, standing up in front of him, nudging his useless legs apart so she could position herself between them. Ivar choked on air. “I’ve thought you were pretty cute for a while now, but seeing you stand up to Sigurd, getting all angry…” She sighed, shaking her head. “It was sexy.”

She was entrancing him like she always had, but hearing Lottie confess her attraction for him aroused Ivar like nothing had before. His dreams were coming to life before his very eyes.

Her soft hands rested on his bare, shuddering shoulders, feeling them relax under her tender stroking. “And it turned me on…” She paused, contemplating as she stared into his foggy, blue eyes as if searching for an answer. “I want us to fuck, Ivar. I want you buried inside me while I scream your name.”

“Am I dreaming?” he whispered, gazing up as if Lottie was Freya, Goddess of Love and Death, preparing to claim him as her own.

Lottie straddled Ivar’s lap, pressing their bodies together, feeling their hearts beat in unison, hammering like Thor was striking them himself. “Not today, my Prince.”

She could feel his solid erection against her core, making her raise a brow as the rumours surrounding Ivar’s condition have always made her curious. Testing the waters, Lottie firmly ground her hips down in one smooth motion, making Ivar groan, throwing his head back with his eyes closed.

Suddenly, they snapped back open. The realisation that he could be aroused by a woman… by Lottie… was all-consuming. His lips began to tremble, and his jaw slackened. Ivar gazed at the smirking Lottie as if she held the sun and stars only for him. Letting out a deep huff, his hands gripped her hips as she continued her slow movements. “Fuck, Lottie.” He panted, pleasure overtaking all his senses as his head dropped against her stomach.

“Hey,” Lottie whispered, pulling his head back up. Ivar’s eyes were drooped in lust, pupils wholly dilated. “If I’m going to ride you, you will look at me while I do it.”

Ivar thrust up against her on instinct, her sultry words going straight to his throbbing dick.

Leaning down, Lottie placed her lips firmly on Ivar’s. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her flush against his bare chest, grinding up against her as he did. Lottie whined into his mouth, the dominant movement making wetness pool in her trousers. His hands roamed her thighs as their tongues swirled around each other. Lottie’s hands began to wonder, trailing down his broad frame to his cock, giving it a testing squeeze.

Ivar groaned, but pulled Lottie away, making her frown. “Okay, okay... We need to stop.” Ivar wheezed, his eyes avoiding hers as he looked to the ceiling.

Grabbing the Viking’s chin, Lottie stared Ivar dead in the eye. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She questioned, still huffing. “You are Ivar Lothbrok, correct? The man who’s been following me around like a puppy since we met?”

Ivar grumbled, lying back against the bed and covering his eyes. “I know, I know! This is literally my fucking wet dreams coming to life.” He growled, the noise going straight to her core.

Lottie’s thighs felt cold now without Ivar’s warm hands caressing her. “Then, what’s the issue here, Ivar?” She mumbled, confused beyond belief.

Throwing his hands up in the air and slamming them down on the sheets, Ivar let out a yell. “Fucking Sigurd!”

Taken aback, Lottie rose an eyebrow at Ivar, her face forming a snarl. “Sigurd? Sigurd is why you won’t fuck me! Why are you even thinking about him when I’m straddling your hard-on? Desperate to fuck you!” She cried.

Ivar sat up on his forearms, a frown on his face as he looked at the girl of his dreams. “Because he has had you in ways I cannot, that I do not think I can.”

Lottie shook her head with a soft laugh, hair dangling before her eyes as her hands started to move over Ivar’s chest. “You are the object of my desire. You, your inner power, your fighting spirit is what I have craved for many years. I do not want, Sigurd. I want you.” She declared as Ivar’s hands unconsciously moved up her thighs again.

“Yes, but…”

Lottie cut him off. “No but’s.” Removing her hands from Ivar’s chest, Lottie moved up to her shirt, slipping it off her flushed skin. “Right now, it’s you and me.” Ivar was mesmerised once more as more of Lottie’s skin displayed. “There’s no Sigurd…” She whispered, throwing her shirt to the side, leaving her breasts bare before him, peaky nipples hard in the open air. “There’s no other Ragnarsson…” Ivar’s hands trailed up her warm stomach and cupped her chest, making her bite her lip. “It’s just you and me.”

Ivar nodded absently, his fingers circling her nipples as he held her breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently. “Just you and me.”

“That’s right, Lothbrok,” Lottie smirked, reaching beneath her and stroking his erect member. “So, are we going to talk about Sigurd, or are you going to fuck me?” She squeezed him, locking eyes with Ivar, who was struggling to maintain eye contact with her bare breasts in front of his face.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that the only man’s name you’ll ever be able to say is Ivar.”

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 7 months

Text

heorte til heorte

— pairing: athelstan x alethia stahl (oc)

— fandom: vikings (tv)

— summary: alethia wanted to go home, to return to her family. instead, she finds herself in ninth-century england. not speaking the language, and still processing the grief of her other life, she searches for an anchor - athelstan.

— warnings: violence, age gaps, miscarriage, death, a lot of hurt and grief. no one starts out happy. aged down athelstan bc i thought he was like 20 when he got kidnapped. he’s around 26 in this opposed to his regular 32.

— notes: this is self-indulgent. this is also angsty, like, really angsty. it’s not even funny at this point. does it get better? maybe. but this is athelstan related, so it’s going to hurt. written for and because of @levithestripper :)

chapters will be posted every sunday, starting this week.

— quotes & excerpts:

Yes, this was England. She was home, on Earth.

She was pretty, in the same way Lagertha was - in the same way all shieldmaidens were heedlessly, dangerously beautiful.

“The christening does not protect the body, but the soul.” Athelstan replied. He sounded as if he was repeating a sentence he knew by heart but did not mean. “And has yours been protected? Has God made sure that you feel whole?” Alethia laughed, her lip quivering. “I should think not. I see you, Athelstan.”

“Not for a stranger. I would go for Alethia Stahl, if I knew who she was.” Athelstan said.

“The ocean makes me afraid.” he said. “It is so… endless.” “Aren’t we all?” Alethia whispered.

A part of him wished that he could have stayed and soothed her scars.

#athelstan #alethia stahl #athelstan x oc #vikings #history vikings #ragnar lothbrok #lagertha #ecbert #aethelwulf #athelstan x alethia #alestan

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skolworthy · 1 year

Text

Perfect Love Outcasts Fear

Message from the Author: This was intended as a one shot/drabble, yet the more I think about it, the more I desire it to become a series. I will leave it to my readers, on whether or not to continue it.

Plot: Vikings have declared war on Sussex, Ragnar Lothbrok, their leader, ends up getting captured and is currently held prisoner by the English, thus the reasoning behind said declaration.. Elizabeth, niece to the crowned King of Sussex, desires for peace and harmony among both the Northmen and English. Raised as a devout Christian, she prays day and night for something to happen that will bring about that desired peace. Whatever form it may take.

Warnings: None yet, could be some violence here and there, so if it gets too graphic…sorry? There shouldn’t be any explicit content for awhile, if this even turns into a series.

—

It had been almost five months since the Northmen had first raided Sussex, failing in their first attempt and retreating back to the shore. From what she had heard, they were biding their time, waiting for another battlement of ships to arrive to increase their numbers. Many of their men had fallen during the first siege, yet it seemed to matter not to these heathens, battle and victory their calling card and motive for all the destruction and chaos they ensued. It almost seemed like they were eager to lay down their lives for whatever cause they had to attack Sussex, stories of smaller attacks on outer lying villages always wafting around local taverns and inns. Elizabeth had always had a secret fascination with the Viking culture, a desire to understand them better as a means to eventually make peace with them. Yet her uncle, King Thomas, did not share her views and often would shun her from the presence of good society, should she ever begin to speak about them in a manner that was anything other than hate and disgust. This did not bother her, she enjoyed being on her own and left to her own thoughts and devices. Often she would venture to the chapel and pray, usually for God to open the minds of those around her. If they were ever to survive these constant raids, would it not be wise to know the mind of your enemy more, this including their beliefs and culture? Yet, these were the times when the thoughts of a woman were not valued in the slightest.

“Lord, if this raid on our kingdom is your will, then let it be so. Perhaps it can shine wisdom upon our leaders in how to better improve our defenses and battle strategies, or perhaps it will bring ruin upon us all.” Elizabeth said with eyes closed, head bowed and hands clasped tight together as she knelt down among the pews of the chapel. “I believe that we are all your children, some of us having simply lost our way.” she continued, a small sigh escaping her lips. “Yet I feel that there is more to this attack than just bloodshed, I feel that something is wanting to happen from this. An…understanding.” she opened her eyes and lifted her gaze to the wooden sculpture of Christ upon the cross. “Send me a sign, Lord. A sign that something needs to change for the sake of humanity’s future.” Suddenly the door to the chapel burst open and Elizabeth jumped to her feet with a gasp. A man, Northman from the look of him, stood there panting, wild eyes looking around the empty room until they stopped upon her and she froze. His eyes were the brightest blue she had ever seen, and she had her own set of blue eyes, yet they were more of a darker hue with a slight ring of greenish yellow around the iris. Nowhere near as intensely blue as his. The man stood there staring at her for a moment before the sound of shouting outside of the room and down the hall caused him to turn around quickly and shut the doors with him now inside the chapel with her.

Her hands were behind her, gripping the top of the pew as he then strode over to her quickly, glanced down at her a moment before looking around the room. The sound of voices outside the door caused him to search more fervently, apparently for somewhere to hide, when he suddenly ducked down behind her, his body rolling under the pew and out of sight, though Elizabeth could feel his hot breath against her ankles as she stood there. The doors bursting open once again caused her to jump and she brought her hands in front of her and held them there as three guards bounded in, their eyes searching the room for the Viking. They caught sight of her and immediately bowed their heads. “A thousand pardons, M’lady. We search for an escaped heathen, he was captured a few hours ago but managed to escape. We could have sworn he came this way.” The lead guard lifted his head and his eyes continued to search the room, about to take a step further within. “Yes, I saw him.” she said, which caused the breathing that she felt against her ankles to stop for a moment. Elizabeth lifted her hand and pointed toward a door off in the corner, which led down a hallway and elsewhere within the castle. “He ran in here, saw me and then hurried down that hall. If you hurry, you may yet catch him.” The guards bowed quickly and then ran to the door and threw it open, disappearing down it before it shut behind them, their footsteps diminishing. She stood there a moment staring at the door before she let out a breath of relief and then began to turn around to look down under the pew, only to give a small shriek when she came face to face with the man that had been previously hiding beneath it.

He stood close to her, enough to where she had to lean back a little to regain her sense of comfort. Yet as she did so, he tilted his head to the side and leaned forward to keep the close distance, his eyes filled with intrigue and his lips daring to begin curling into a smirk. “You helped me. Why?” he suddenly asked, the fact that he spoke decent English caused her eyebrows to raise slightly. Elizabeth stammered a moment, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for the words that were swimming around her head. The man leaned back up to his full height, his head still tilted, the smirk finally finding its way to his lips as his eyes then began to roam from her face down her body. This caused her mouth to drop open, utterly appalled at the action, yet she could not hold back the heat that began to rise beneath her cheeks. Clearing her throat, Elizabeth tucked a strand of her dark brown and straight hair behind her ear and then moved her hand back down to join the other one, clasping it in front of her body as she lifted her chin indignantly and looked up at him. “I believe the Lord sent you, as a sign.” she said confidently. The man’s eyes moved back up to hers finally, though they had been taking quite a long time traveling back up her body, then they flicked over to the statue that was behind her above the alter. “Him?” He asked, before looking back at her. Elizabeth’s mouth pressed into a thin line for a moment and she gave a nod. “Yes. I prayed for a sign that some change would come from this war, and then you burst through the doorway.” “I am a sign? Of what?” “Of change, hopefully.” She said as she gave him a small smile.

He gazed at her intently for a moment before he then took a step toward her, which caused her to lean back a bit, the pew hitting against her backside and keeping her from being able to move away any further. He then reached forward suddenly with his hand, taking hers and bringing it upward. The man then bowed slightly, looking up at Elizabeth as he did, bringing her hand up toward his forehead and then pressed the tops of her knuckles against it before lowering it back down. “You have my thanks.” he said before standing back up. “As well as my promise.” Elizabeth’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, unsure of what he was promising. “The next coming siege, no harm shall come to you.” She looked into those blue eyes of his, searching them for truth, clearly seeing that he was indeed showing that he meant what he said, yet she still had to ask. “How can you be certain?” He then rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and removed from his wrist a bronze bangle of sorts, when he held it up in the light of the torches around them, she noted that it was ornately crafted. The bangle itself had a corded design to it, twisting almost as it would wrap around one's wrist, at the ends of it, there were two heads that faced each other with open mouths. Wolves. She would later come to understand that this was a sacred arm ring used in Viking culture, as a means of promising allegiance or protection to someone. “Keep this with you at all times, and just speak my name. should someone ask how you have it.” Elizabeth stared at the bangle and then slowly reached out for it, freezing when he took her wrist gently in his calloused hand and turned it over, to where he placed it within her open palm.

She looked down at his hand as it loosened its grip around her wrist, but lingered, his fingertips slowly moving down her wrist to her fingertips and then reluctantly letting go. “And what name would that be?” she asked, lifting her eyes up to his. “Ragnar Lothbrok.” he said, a twinkle in his eye. Somehow, Elizabeth knew who he was before he had even said his name, there had just been something about him that told her that he was a man of influence. “What shall I call you?” he asked after a moment, which brought a small smile to her lips. “Elizabeth.” was all that she said. It was not wise to divulge the fact that she was nobility to this man, who was to say that he would not use her as a means of leverage when it came to this war? Granted, there was no doubt that he had not noticed that she definitely did not dress like some common English girl. If he truly was Ragnar Lothbrok, then he was no fool. She had heard tales of his bravery, songs of his victories in battle and in life, yet she had never imagined coming face to face with the man. Let alone coming to find that he was extremely handsome and that there was something that seemed to draw her to him. A sense of interest and intrigue, she longed to learn more about him and more about his way of life. The sound of the guards once again coming through the hallways outside the chapel brought both of them back to attention, Ragnar looking over his shoulder at the door and then turning back to look at her.

He moved closer to her suddenly, Elizabeth’s lips parting slightly as she looked up at him with wide eyes and her breath catching in her throat. He then lifted his hand up and gently brushed the side of her face with the back of his fingers and smiled down at her. “I do hope we meet again, Elizabeth.” he said, the sound of her name leaving his lips causing goosebumps to rise upon her ivory skin. Ragnar pulled away from her quickly and then suddenly spun around her, unsheathing a large knife and moving behind her, bringing it up against her neck at the same moment that the doors burst open once again. Instead of only guards entering the chapel, her uncle was there as well. When his eyes found his niece in the arms of an armed Northman, he held up his arms to the guards around him. “Stop, do not advance. My niece must not be harmed.” Elizabeth felt Ragnar let out a breathy chuckle at hearing that she was the niece of the King and she felt his fingertips tighten against her waist as his arm was wrapped around it. Ragnar glanced over his shoulder and saw the stained glass window and then began to back up toward it, bringing Elizabeth with him as he held her against him, the knife still poised at her throat.

Once the two of them were in front of the window, Ragnar gestured to one of the gold candlesticks upon the alter. “Break it open for me won’t you, my lady?” he breathed against her ear. Elizabeth stared at the stained glass window and then shook her head slightly. “No. It is part of the house of God, I will not desecrate it.” She felt his hand tighten against her waist and he moved his face a bit to where it was somewhat against hers. “It is but a window, and while it is a work of art, it is nothing in comparison to this neck of yours.” he said as he pressed the tip of the knife against her skin, causing a speck of blood to appear and for her to take in a sharp breath. Elizabeth reached for the candlestick and picked it up, finding that it was rather heavy, but she managed to lift it a bit and then with a grunt, she hurled it at the window, closing her eyes as she did so, the sound of it shattering almost silent compared to the sound of her heart shattering. No sooner had the glass broken, Ragnar moved them closer to the window and then once he was within reach of it, he hopped up onto the ledge and released Elizabeth. She turned and looked up at him with wide eyes as he knelt there, then he looked over at her uncle and the guards and gave them a cheeky smirk. King Thomas narrowed his eyes at Ragnar and began to lift his hand for the guards to advance when suddenly Ragnar leaned back down toward Elizabeth, slid his hand behind her neck and into her hair and brought her face toward his as he leaned down. Her eyes went wide when he pressed his lips against hers in a lingering kiss and then pulled away, giving her a wink and then holding his hands out to the side and let himself fall backwards out of the window.

Moving to the edge of the window, careful not to cut herself on the shards of broken glass, she leaned out over the edge, hoping she wouldn’t see a flattened Viking upon the cobblestone streets below. What she saw caused her to crack a small smile. Ragnar was lying in a haystack that was piled upon a horse drawn cart, his arms behind his head as he grinned up at her and then blew a kiss, followed by a wave of his fingers as it began to drive down the road.

@wolfy1712 @shit-i-say-shit-i-think

#ragnar lothbrok #ragnar lothbrok fanfiction #ragnar lothbrok x oc #ragnar imagine #travis fimmel #vikings fanfiction

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provedlovelessindeath · 10 months

Text

Welcome to Proved Loveless in Death

An Interactive Tumblr Poll game where you choose who's your favorite... and who dies <3

Basic Idea: You are the poor victim of the Court of Fey, targeted with a spell called 'Rose Tint' that makes you able to see choices and decide on what path fate will take in the name of madness and love.

I'll post snippets of backstory and character designs and then write chapters of the story with a poll in the end of updates every once in a while, having votes for how things will proceed. Scuffles and ultimatums, life and death. You've made quite a lot of boys devoted to you throughout your life. Now, years later, see how far the fay's corruption and lovesickness twists their actions through this game.

TW for horror with gore, maiming, psychological abuse, gaslighting, and dub/noncon.

You are trapped having to see the sweet memories and friendships you shared turn into red splatters of blood. The versions of them you remembered, marred forever by how sick and twisted they became as soon as your friends realized this was a competition. You are the prize.

Whoever comes out of it will be your fated lover, and own your heart whole-y (along with getting some compensation from the Fey for the good show of course).

Choose wisely.

Short Profiles and Concept Art of the Friends You've Gathered Throughout the Years:

Cassius (5-10): Violent, protective, entitled.

You were next door neighbors as kids. He played pranks on you at first but would get mad at others and hit them if they tried to do the same. Although you thought he hated you because of how mean he was sometimes, he would not stop hanging around you instead of going home.

After you heard yelling and shattering from his home, you'd let him slip inside your house in secret too. You really became his security blanket, and he eased up on the teasing. But he'd be mean again if you ever tried partnering with anyone other than him.

When you had to move, he bullied you into promising you'd marry him. You eventually relented as you saw him cry for the first time. He's taken this oath way too much to heart and has been doing his best to become someone reliable and strong for you.

Even years later, he can't stay interested in anyone because of how strongly he clings to the fantasy of you. That his goal has only ever been to become someone you could be proud of. He feels like it's a betrayal to let you go.

So he starts chasing after your trail.

Ami (10-13): Girly, manipulative, spoiled.

You came to his school as he was getting retribution for bullying his classmates. He had been snide, unsympathetic, and cruel to them, toying with everyone's emotions. Finally, his classmates snapped, and he found out how powerless he could be against a mod. He started getting bullied himself. He had been so sure the adults would help, but there was no response from his teachers, and his parents never noticed. He felt alone for the first time in his life.

He was at his lowest, accepting his fate, and you saved him without having context to the full story. You became his his knight in shining armor; the person that proved to him again that he had value. He clung to you.

With new resolve, he rebuilt himself. He regained his confidence, and began living two-facedly, as he promised himself you'd never know about his mean side. He kept finding ways to shut anyone who tried talking to you about his past... then, because of his overzealousness, he threatened ANYONE who even tried befriending you too.

He couldn't trust them with you. You were *his*friend; his person to play with, spoil and adore... Up until you had to move far away. Again.

He was distraught and tried so hard to convince you to run away, to hide in his house. He'd take care of you! Of course, you couldn't. It was just a dumb, kiddish fantasy. But even now, years later, as his life went on without you, he keeps revisiting the possibility whenever he misses you.

He's made an enemy out of everyone. No one else has treated him as kindly and as sincerely as you. No one is meant for him like you are. He can't let you go.

He just can't.

Ragnar (13-16): Depressed, asocial, cold.

His mom passed away and his dad moved them to another state. He fell into a deep depression and started having bad, bad thoughts. You were both new to school.

You clung to him because of this; after relying so much on only Ami previously, you were so unsure of how to make friends again that you were terrified. Ragnar was initially disgusted being smothered with attention, he just wanted to be left alone and not care about anything. It was sad, but your classmates started seeing you both in negative ways, and it furthered a divide between you both and them. All the more reason for him him to feel overwhelmed by you. You and your manner of being probing, kind, funny, and so... persistent. He thought he hated you.

But then you got sick and had to miss a few days of school. Getting his wish, being alone all school day and at home, Ragnar realized it was the opposite. He'd unfortunately gotten attached to you.

And he was looking forward to seeing you again.

When you came back, to your shock, he slowly started clinging back. e kept making up reasons as to why in his head. You came to him first anyways, so this much attention was fine, right? And... making sure you weren't be allowed to get close to anyone else was also okay... because it's not like anyone would be able to understand you the way he does.

He began monopolizing you. Everyone in the school was such a fake, you needed someone loyal to look out for you. That could only be him. He was always by your side, ready to give you anything and to keep everyone away. Slipping up on his undiscovered true emotions and telling you at random sometimes, poetic stuff about how much you mean to him and how you two were made to make each other happy.

He was always sweet to you.

When you told him you had to move again, he took it really hard, as if you were the one deciding to leave him. You'd made him want to live again and just took that hope away. He became cold and detached the following weeks, it made you both depressed up until your last day when he was finally to the point of breaking down. He ran to your house, knocked, and hugged you tightly, crying. He didn't say anything as he handed you an envelope and ran away. It said 'Don’t open until we meet again.' You've been obedient.

He knows it's stupid but... he still clings to you as the light in his life that he needs to get back. His life is yours, and yours is his.

Varrik (16-18): Top student, smart, diligent.

You met him in the later years of highschool as all the pressure put on him being on top was beginning to make him break his charming persona. After moving so much, you'd become tired of trying to keep friendships and were settling into being a loner. But, you caught him having an anxiety attack in an empty classroom and helped calm him down.

Because you were new, Varrik let his guard down and felt like he could open up for the first time in years. You didn’t have a preconceived idea of him. You didn't care. It was freeing. After he was done, you tried giving him reassurance, but he lied about being busy and fled the room. Embarassment caught up to him, but when nothing came of his vent session, he started to relax again.

And the prospect of talking to you started to excite him. Ever since, he'd keep an eye on you, and sometimes, when he caught you alone afterschool, he'd linger just a bit around you, hoping you'd find some reason to talk to him. You fell right into your curiosity everytime and would ask him how he felt. Getting to talk to you in private like that would make his day.

It meant the world to him to be able to have someone understand him. In return, he realized your grades could be better and decided for himself to help you by hosting a lot of study (date) sessions. Also in private.

He knew how much of a loner you were, and that talking to him during school could open you up to other friendships... but he liked things as they were already. You were always available and a little expectant about you activities with him. It was cute.

He tried keeping your meetings a secret for thsoe years, but eventually, someone noticed. To combat this, he readily convinced them that he was set up by teachers to be your tutor in private because you had poor behavior that had to be monitored. He made a convincing story about the real reason you never socialized and always kept to yourself. No one doubted someone as reputable and kind as him.

He got his wish. No one else talked to you, and honestly, you couldn't be bothered to realize what had gone on. Now he never had to worry... but just to be safe, he started moving these (dates) sessions to other places. Like cafes, libraries, the park, his home... You were so close outside of school... even hanging out during the breaks. Giving gifts in secret. He was so happy... he wanted to stay that way.

Come senior year, he had a plan. He'd push you to go to the same, elite college as him. He really did his best to monopolize your time and energy into it with extra tutoring, volunteering, and scholarship hunting. He was picturing a future that HAD include you.

Finally, letters were sent and… You weren't accepted.

He was.

It broke his heart more than it did yours. He-He had to go, he couldn't just… not. His parents, his efforts, it'd all have been in vain otherwise. But he hated leaving you behind and felt wrecked with guilt. You did your best to console him. He pretended it worked.

As you waited with him in the airport, you thought about how what a weird twist of fate it was to be the one seeing their friend off now. You hugged him and reassured him you could meet up again sometime. But with how intense his program would be, you both know that was likely impossible. The last call for his flight rang and he had to let you go. You handed him one last gift before you left him. He opened it when he sat in his seat. It was a little keychain with a small photo of the both of you. He couldn't take his eye off it the whole ride.

He still has it, and stares at it when he needs to feel something again.

Ludovic (18-21): Domestic, dependable, protective.

Roomies assigned when both your actual roommates dipped at the last second.

Ludovic started off terrible. He was in a shitty friend group that he'd followed into college just to party. He thought you were a stick in the mud and would intentionally get on your nerves a lot. He was the worst during the first semester, and you planned to ditch him as soon as housing gave you the clear.

But, after staying late studying for semester finals, as you were going back to your dorm on your car, you saw Vic being dragged away by two people. As you get closer it looked shadier and shadier.

You stopped the car and told them you were his roommate. You tried to appear friendly as you told them you'd take him back to your shared dorm. They refused, until you recognized one of them (someone Vic had brought over before) and you called her name. That makes her nervous and their bravado broke. They loaded him in the passenger seat and walked away.

He was definitely, unusually out of it.

He was a mess as you drove back home. He puked on your car. And while going up the elevator. And in your room. You had to help him change and he finally he realized who you are. He started crying about how he knew he was a shitty person, and you didn't deserve putting up with him. He was really starting to blabber about how he knew his life was spiraling with his clique, but that he felt helpless. He had no motivation to change.

It made you pause your initial opinions of him and reevaluate him. You were up all night checking on him and thinking about it as he's passed out. You couldn't help doze off after a while... and woke up feeling like you were watched. You turned around and saw him looking at you. Really looking at you. He didn't say anything, and turned around in his bed. You thought he was embarrassed and let him be, going back to your slumber.

Things changed a lot after that. He dropped his friend group, he became a bit more serious about his degree, he cleaned up after himself and... he valued you a lot more.

He had an epiphany after going through that; that he had to make better life choices. He needed more dependable people around him. Like you. He really wanted to make it up to you. A year later, he has gotten very involved in your life.

Once a week, he'd treat you to something you like, walk you to your classes when possible, and inadvertently memorize your schedule, friends, preferences, quirks.

He'd go above and beyond for you, even taking up extra chores and learning to cook things you liked in the communal kitchen. You felt guilty, like you weren't worth all this attention, but he always told you honestly that he just wanted to work on himself. And part of that was by becoming a good roommate to you. That quelled most arguments.

He's still a bit of an asshole sometimes; he likes to tease you a lot because of your inexperience to a lot of things, but he's never mean. You can finally say you're fond of him, and even look up to him for helping you whenever you were in trouble.

Meanwhile, as time went on and he had more introspection, Vic comes to terms with knowing that.. he loves you. But he's afraid. He can't trust himself anymore. He can't trust his judgment on what's right and wrong. On if he's really a good person or just pretending to be so that he can stay close to you. Against better judgement, his thoughts and urges slip into fantasies that aren't... healthy. It's a vicious cycle that feeds into his guilt, wanting to make up for it by doing something special for you, you give him a compliment that gets to his head and makes him think of more. He can't help it.

Another year, and another. Everything is great. Stuff gets lost and he makes fun of you for it. You binge watch shows and always try to eat together. Other friends you make start to drift away, but he remains your constant.

He'd follow you anywhere... it gets so domestic, anyone would mistake you for a couple already! But unfortunately, that last line is never crossed...

It's time for you to graduate. Because of certain mistakes and a lack of concentration in his classes, he isn't able to join your year. This is it. He'd been spiraling over through all of your final semester. You were leaving him.

He helps you pack, hiding the dread he feels, like his life was slipping away. He had to say something, to confess... Or... did he? Could you do long distance? Would you consider waiting for an idiot like him, still stuck in school?

He didn't want to burden you... after everything was loaded into your car, you both wavered. He joked that this wouldn't be the last of him. Next time you need a roomie, he'll zip right over. You laughed and told him you'd take him in a heartbeat.

In a heartbeat.

You drive off and he's alone, trying to tell himself he can always sneak back into your life. He's gonna graduate. He'll go after you. And even if you're in a relationship, married, or just uninterested, he'll find a way to convince you you two were perfect, and he'd claim you.

He just has to wait.

Xander (21-24): Socially awkward, weakwilled, obsessive.

A tall, gawky, nerdy guy who joined the company you work at the same time as you.

Both of you were given the same assignments so you could help each other out. Xander was super flighty, nervous and stuttered a lot when you first met him, but with you were persistent. You'd take over the reigns when he couldn't, you gently tried making him feel comfortable when he was anxious, and you encouraged him when he did things right. You were a good, sweet coworker, and the man was starstruck, feeling blessed to even be in your presence when he was such a.. screw up.

The reason for Xander's awkwardness was attributed in part, because of his fearful and overbearing parents. He was home-schooled his whole life, kept to the house and taught schooling the 'proper' way. He was told meeting kids his age would only dumb him down, and yet, he felt like he was drowning under his parent's expectations anyways. He was never as good as they wanted.

Finally, he was allowed, at least, to escape to college. He was so nervous and excited. He tried so hard, too hard, to socialize... and found out very quickly that people did not like his ticks. The people in his class thought he was annoying, and he could never get the courage to talk to anyone outside of what was mandatory. Making friends was... too hard. He was hopeless without the tools to express himself well. In the end, he couldn't make any genuine connections up until he graduated.

His dreams of being happy were crushed. He was kicked from his parent's home and felt dread, believing work would be the same kind of hell in a different form.

How lucky he was, that you were there.

You, patient, kind, funny and cool. You, who seek him out even when you're not paired up, who wants to hang out with him for lunch, and doesn't shame him when he makes a social mistake. You're the first person he can call a friend. He's ecstatic and way too overeager... subtly, without realizing at first, he's even building a shrine to you in his head.

Which slowly became into an... actual shrine.

Obsessive. He can't help himself. Overanalyzing the things you talk about, looking for ways to feel closer to you, getting into all the things you're into so you can talk about it at work, stealing your lunch when no one is around and offering his own when you cant find it, soon even coincidentally moving somewhere closer and suggesting carpooling to save on gas. It's all pretty obvious if you weren't so trustful. It's not like anyone cares, no one bats an eye. Xander can get away with it all... for now. The long looks, the extra shifts, random (offerings) gifts in your desk and his constant, looming presence.

You're perfect. There is no one else in Xander's world but you.

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istorkyou · 7 months

Text

A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU) New Chapter

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Note - I think it’s been almost a year since I updated this fic. I’ve decided to post the rest of the fic, despite not being super happy with chapter 11. I wrote the rest of the chapters ages ago but got stuck on chapter 11 so I’ve decided to just Chuck it out here.

Sorry it’s taken me so long, hope those who enjoyed this story before will enjoy the end ❤️ thanks all. This chapter is un-beta’d so all mistakes are mine and I’m sure there will be lots!

Warnings - mentions of violence make against female and female against make, language, weapons, angst

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 - 3828 words

This is for @blackseapearl 400 follower trope challenge. I asked for Amnesia :)

Shout Outs - They know ❤️

This fic kicked (and is still kicking!) my ass, I’ve never had such a hard time with motivation as I have writing this long-ass bitch so I hope you enjoy it :)

It’s also LOOOOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG..... and I’m only the tiniest bit sorry about that!

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

Masterpost

Chapter 11

The early days of Ivar and Liet.

Lev insists on an apartment first, keeping some distance and to set up a place he can still see her in. She assumed Ivar would be annoyed but he says it’s a good first step, she doesn’t know for certain but she guesses that The Lothbroks don’t want a stranger in their midst, she will have to be vetted before being allowed into their inner sanctum.

She stays in the apartment for a few months, building a life, in her “new city”, a routine with Ivar visiting. Lev turns up more often than she wants, an invasive reminder that it's all lies and any potential peace found with Ivar is bullshit.

Lev never gets ugly with her again, but her memory is long and she never forgets the violence he exhibited, quashing all feelings she ever had for him.

She was supposed to lead a double life, reporting to her family, faking the relationship with Ivar, in reality, it’s a triple life now, faking to Lev, faking to Ivar despite her feelings of real love for him and reporting back despite her feelings. God, what an absolute mess she’s made. Etta has no choice but to carry on as normal with Lev when she sees him, fucking him as if he’s her guy when her whole being is consumed by her feelings for Ivar.

The ripping of her soul, the lies, the deceit, the acting, almost sends her into an early grave, until Ivar asks her to move onto the estate.

———————-

Word comes from Ivar’s Father. The Lothbrok family have accepted her. Ragnar has dug into her past thoroughly.

———————

Her Father knew this would happen and hired the right people to fabricate her former life, leaving as much of her true life as possible. Dead parents, teacher (at a different school, one where Olegs family had reach with, who he was able to pay off if asked about Julietta). The Lothbroks came back with nothing but a squeaky clean record of her. Nothing about her time spent with her father, nothing about her training or the other ‘missions’ she’d been sent on. Just a wholesome school teacher with friends and a tragic past.

—————

She can see a respite, a pause of her turmoil if she is away from Lev, away from the pressure he is putting on her, the pressure her father is putting on her through Lev. She can breathe easily once she gets there. For a minute.

She knows any peace is temporary.

The day before she is due to move, Lev catches her outside her apartment as she is running errands.

She feels him behind her, an insistent grip on her arm.

“Keep walking, Love. Who knows if we are being followed. Walk to the market.”

Julietta has no choice but to do as he says.

In the market he catches her arm harshly and turns her toward a stand.

“Try on the sunglasses,” he instructs her harshly, so she does. She catches his eye in a mirror, he is standing close to her. “Tomorrow we will be separated, God knows for how long. You know what needs to be done, Etta?”

She nods and picks another pair of glasses up, slipping them on her face.

“I’ve watched you with him, in this very market,” Lev’s voice is saccharine sweet, she’s heard it before and the blood runs cold through her veins. The intrusion into the relationship she thought she’d developed in private was being watched. Of course it was. Stupid girl.

“I’ve seen him kiss you, I’ve seen the way you look at him, Etta.” Etta watches as his pupils constrict in the mirror as his grip tightens on her flesh, sure to leave marks she will have to explain away.

Etta starts to shake her head and pulls away carefully, smiling playfully as she starts to protest but his words stop her.

“My eyes don’t lie. I’ve seen you. Do you not remember my words? If you fall for him I will kill you both. You are mine,” his finger back on her arm, holding so hard she has to bite her lip to stop from yelping. “Mine,” he growls in her ear. “I hope for both your sakes you are a better actress than I give you credit for, Etta.”

Lev leans into her, his nose in her hair and he inhales deeply, eyes never leaving her face for a second. “I would hate to murder you, my love.”

Through the ice in her veins she knows what she must do. A calmness settles over her, knowing her only way out of this encounter is to placate the man she once loved.

She removes the sunglasses and her eyes catch his in the mirror. She leans back into Lev, her upper back pressing against his chest and she pushes her ass into his crotch. Her voice is thick with sweetness when she addresses him. “Baby, I’m the best actress you’ve ever met. You think I have feelings for him? I’m repulsed by him. Every time he touches me it makes me want to vomit. I would kill him and his whole fucking family in a heartbeat to be back with you, my love.”

She sees Lev’s eyes change from hatred to relief and she knows he is putty in her hands again.

“I’m doing this for the family. For you. Just as you told me to. It’s all for you, a means to an end, my love. I’m leaving tomorrow, who knows when I will next get to see you. There's an alley up to the left. Meet me there in two minutes. I need you one more time before I go.” She turns in her heels and heads for the alley.

As she turns left she claps her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle to cry and tears in the minutes she has before he joins her. She takes in some steadying breathes and prepares herself to allow Lev to touch her, fuck her, to betray Ivar with the man that sold her out like she was nothing. A mere commodity.

As she watches Lev enter the alley her skin starts to crawl, but she pushes the feeling away.

She’s let her guard slip with Ivar, she needs to pull herself back again, with more success this time. She curses inwardly at not realising she is being watched the whole time, of course she is, she’s her family's most valuable asset.

She can’t be the reason Ivar dies. She will be the best actress ever. To save herself. To save Ivar.

—————

Julietta is sure that Ivar feels the change in her, in the way she is with him over the next few weeks. Sometimes she can see her detachment break his heart and she wants nothing more than to open herself up again, allow him into her heart fully, but the memory of Lev’s words stops her.

Sometimes she feels herself allowing the feelings to creep back in. It’s easy when it’s just the two of them, living together, a normal life. Somedays, when she’s watching him move around their home, on the phone, smiling at her, she forgets what this all is. Fake. An assignment. Not for long, but long enough for it to crush her heart when she remembers.

Some days she is so angry. Furious at herself for letting her life come to this. Rage filled at her father for making her do this. Devastated at the circumstances that have led her life to this point. Angry that she is in love with a man completely out of her reach, despite being married to him. It’s on these days can hear herself say the most disgusting things, things about his wheelchair, his disability that make her so ashamed of herself she knows that when her time comes they will be the reason she will be dragged straight to the depths of Hell.

He shows her nothing but endless patience. She isn’t sure if that is because he is so in love with her or because she drops enough breadcrumbs of love and affection to keep him hopeful that she will return to the woman he met in Sardinia. Hope. It can hold people prisoner, and that’s what she feels she is doing to him. Keeping him shackled to a memory of the woman she wishes she could be with him, her old self.

Julietta can’t even bare to look at him when they have sex, can’t bare the way his eyes feel on her, like they are going to pull a confession out of her at any moment so she manipulates him again into being intimate in a way she can stomach, a way she can live with herself.

She manages to find an outlet in the form of a diary, written in code. She pours every thought, every feeling, every second of happiness into it so she doesn’t allow it to spill out into their actual lives. So she doesn’t compromise them. If she writes it down the weight of her feelings and the fear that accompany them is lifted slightly.

She’s allowed to the main house after the checks come back clean, before that she had barely any access to it at all which meant she didn’t have much to pass on to Lev when she saw him at the flat. Information is freely available to her now, access to staff, their gossiping, access to Ragnar’s study, although she is careful here until she is sure there are no cameras inside this space. There aren’t, probably so he doesn’t incriminate himself should the time ever come. It does mean she can access paperwork left around, listen in on conversations he has in there. She has yet to plant the listening devices given to her and try to access Ragnar's computer, making up excuses to Lev when pushed on the subject, only handing over as little as she can get away with.

She despises herself every time she does it, hearing the consequences of her actions spoken about by the Lothbroks, people killed, families ripped apart, collateral damage.

She tries to redress the balance of her disgusting deceit as often as she can. Julietta knows one of her strengths is the ability to read people as if they are telling her their secrets openly. Body language, the slightest flick of an eye, the quick exchange of notes between Ragnar's staff is stored in her head. Most of it is innocent, the occasional affair between staffers, a few people stealing from the kitchens, but any hint of something that could hurt any of the family she tells Ivar about, discreetly, so as not to give herself away, hints at things she’s noticed. Ivar is astute enough to read into it the droplets of information she gives him and neutralises the threat.

He can’t see I’m his biggest threat Julietta thinks sadly.

Over time Julietta becomes more involved with all the family members and she starts to enjoy their company, they treat her like one of their own, not knowing she is a snake in the nest. It’s hard enough betraying Ivar without the extra guilt so she stays detached, warm enough that she isn’t alienated but she keeps them at arm's length. For her own sanity.

After months of being on the estate with her love her brains tricks her into thinking she has some solace from her real life. She stops passing along as much information as she can get away with, only given intel she knows will have minimal impact on her husband and his family. She makes excuses to not have to meet up with Lev, passing along the information via a notebook hidden in her flat, deliberately ignoring Lev's outrage at her evasion, which is clear from the messages left in the hiding spot in her apartment.

She continues this way until a clear message is received. One of the Lothbrok security guards is found outside the estate with the letter E carved into his forehead; she knows she has to face her life outside the walls. For Lev to get so close to the estate, to risk the whole assignment to get her attention she knows she has no choice but to meet up with him.

The thought fills her with a paralysing fear, she can’t do this anymore. The double life has to stop and Julietta knows which of her two lives she wants.

Julietta goes to her apartment, calls Lev from the phone stashed in the space in the walls and arranges to meet him at the gym. She changes into her workout clothes and heads there with a racing heart. She went to the toilets at the back of the gym, where Lev has made sure that no security cameras reach.

He’s waiting for her and pins her to the wall before they mutter a world to each other. He pulls her shorts down roughly and his fingers are inside her before she knows what’s happening.

“Lev, no, we need to talk. Stop,” she tells him in Russian, grabbing his wrist to push him out of her, pulling up her shorts.

“Etta, what’s wrong? I’ve missed you. Do they know? Is that why I haven’t heard from you?” His mouth is all over her, her neck, her chest, making her skin crawl.

When he starts to kiss her mouth she twists her head away, and her head falls against the wall. It’s now or never.

“I'm not doing this anymore. I’m done. I'm going to be a proper wife to him. I love him, Lev. We are finished here.”

Lev's face pulls into a scowl before he bursts out laughing. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t love him. You are mine!” He grabs her face, bruising it with his fingers. “You can’t just stop, you will never be done!” His face is searching hers, trying to find a hint of a joke.

She smacks his hand away “Don't ever touch me again, Lev. I am done with all of you. I never wanted any of this. My father won’t kill me for falling in love. Ivar, he’s not like any of you, not with me, he's gentle and he loves me.” Etta’s chin is raised in defiance.

“I fucking love you!” Lev replies with desperation in his tone. “I’ve loved you for years. You can’t be in love with him, he’s the fucking enemy, Etta.”

“Is he?” she shouts at him. “I’m starting to think we are. Father is only doing this for territory, not for revenge or anything noble!”

“Etta, my love. You are smarter than this…” Lev’s tone is one she recognises. A calm, friendly tone which is uses at his most dangerous. “Think about this my love. Come to your senses and I won’t tell anyone what you’ve said today. I love you.”

“Oh Lev, you’ve always been about your career, Fucking the bosses daughter was a strategic move for you. I know you would never choose me over the family.”

“You think Ivar would?” Lev screams and punches the wall next to Etta’s head. “You stupid fucking bitch. You are fucking dead. What did I tell you before? Do you remember? If you fell in love with him I would kill you both.” His hand is back on her jaw, pressing her skull against the hard wall behind her. “Etta. Tell me he hasn’t tasted you.” Levs face screws into pure hatred.

“I remember. I don’t care. I only care about him.” Her breaths are shallow with fear now. She’s weighed up all her options in the small space they are in. She knows all of Lev's moves and if she’s quick enough she can get the better of him. Hopefully.

“My rule, Etta,” Lev says through gritted teeth. “Did you let him taste you?” His eyes flit to her mouth.“You treacherous fucking whore!” He grabs her around the throat and she reaches into the underside of her sports bra pulling out her mini switchblade, flicking it open expertly and pushes it into his groin.

“Femoral artery, Lev. You taught me that. Let go of me or I’ll do it. You’ll bleed out in a minute or so. I’m a good actress, remember? I’ll say you attacked me and I will be believed. Never dare to call me a whore again.” She pushes the tip of her knife into his skin.

He glances down and removes his hands from her throat. “Dead woman. You are fucking dead, Etta” He points in her face and slams the restroom door open so hard it closes again she locks it quickly, clapping her hand over her mouth, hyperventilating in fear. She spends a few minutes calming down and listening for any sign of him. Silence remains and she is sure she is safe enough to leave the gym.

When she steps outside she hears screams from her right and as she spins towards the noise she sees Lev driving straight at her before everything goes black.

——————————————-

Present day

Consciousness tugs at her as does Ivar’s voice, which is getting louder with every syllable. Julietta wakes on the floor of their closet, Ivar cradling her head. “Liet? Baby, thank god! Are you okay?”

Was it all a dream? A nightmare? She knows it isn’t.

Her whole life is back.

Julietta remembers everything and she starts to sob.

“Julietta, what is it? More memories?”

Gods knows she can’t let on that she remembers everything. Even in her vulnerable state she knows for certain she needs time to sort through everything. As much as she wants to pour the truth out to him she values breathing. She hasn’t taken all the risks she has for this man to have him kill her in their beautiful home.

She shifts so she is sitting up, pushing away the nausea and reaches for the pendant laying between them. “The necklace, I remember the first time I put it on you. Ivar, I need to lie down. My head,” she whines, clutching her temples. “My head is splitting.”

She manages to walk to the bed on her wobbly legs, with his help and climbs under the covers and curls up into a ball. The bed dips and she feels him behind her, pressing himself close to her, running his hand up over her arm.

“Do you need anything, love? I will call a doctor.”

“No don’t, I’m ok. I think it’s just going to feel like this when I get memories, they said that after the market. Can you get me some water?”

Ivar nods against her skin. “I will love, I’m going to set an appointment tomorrow to go back to the hospital for tests. Just to be sure.”

As she hears him start to leave she turns to him quickly, knowing she needs to address something. “Ivar? I really don’t have any memory of that man from the Gala.”

Ivar’s jaw ticks and he nods stiffly at her then leaves.

Her own lip curls in disgust when she thinks of Lev. He will be dealt with sooner or later.

She stare up at the ceiling before getting the strength to walk to the bathroom to take a look at herself in the mirror. She looks different now she remembers who she is. Harder, she doesn’t like it.

“Hello, Etta.” She says to her reflection.

She runs her eyes over her reflection, the scar on her cheek, pulling down her top to look at the scars over her arm. Her gaze travels back to her short hair and she sneers slightly then remembers Ivar’s reaction to it and smiles.

“You are not Etta anymore,” she says softly, pointing at herself in the mirror. “You are Liet, his Liet. Bury the old you, do you hear me?” Her reflection nods and she starts to formulate a way forward.

A path to happiness.

————-

She doesn’t know how she manages to keep it together in the days and weeks after her life returns but she does. She compartmentalises her life as Etta until Ivar leaves every morning, as soon as the front door shuts she runs to the shower and tears pour from her. Grief for her parents, they way they were taken from her, the sheer scale of who she was before crushing her like a bug under a wheel.

Broken, bent, torn apart by the old her.

She prays to the Gods to make her Liet again, to remove everything she knows now but it’s just an act of futility. She has to find a way to live with the knowledge that she betrayed her Ivar, to continue to function as his wife with the terror that he and his family will find out about her.

The thought of fleeing crosses her mind, for him as much as for her. Gods know what Ragnar would do to Ivar if he finds out. If she leaves him, just disappears, she could protect him from that, but she knows she’s too selfish, and where would she go? Back to Lev?

Back to the man who did this to her?

“Liet, you have to talk to me. I feel you pulling away from me. I know something has changed. You are not… you are the same… you are turning into the you from before the accident and I need you to be happy again. Baby, please talk to me.”

Julietta can’t meet his eyes, but she forces herself to as she lies to his beautiful face. “I keep seeing flashes, I don’t like what I see, Ivar. Snippets of the way I was, and hate it. I was a totally different person, I didn’t know how to let myself be loved but I don't know why.” She knows why, but she needs to give him something. She used to be able to deceive at the blink of an eye, she’s lost that ability and part of her is grateful, but a bigger part of her wishes she could bullshit with ease to his face.

“Gods,” she thinks, “I should just fucking end it all now and spare him the pain of knowing who I really was.”

“Liet. I chose you then, and I will choose you in every lifetime I live. Always, baby. I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, I’ve loved you through the bad, the terrifying and the amazing. You don’t remember it all but I do, and it’s you. It’s always you. Always.

—————————

She exists. Weeks are passing slowly and she is slowly learning how to be Liet, pushing Etta away. It’s easing, the guilt. The fear of being found out is something she just pushes away with a stern talking to in the mirror. She’s determined to be who she wants to be, not who she was.

Chapter 12

#modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern vikings #alex hogh andersen #ubbe #modern!ubbe #modern!hvitserk #ivar x oc #vikings fanfic #vikings fic #vikings modern au #vikings ivar #hvitserk ragnarsson #ragnar lothbrok

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 months

Text

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19

An update in less than a month? What is this?

This is the long anticipated update and I'm so excited to share it with you. Please let me know what you guys think!

Words: 5500

Warnings: All the feels! brief violence, language, just grab some tissues.

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Ivar loathed all hospitals with an unholy passion. Far too much of his childhood was spent surrounded by sterile white walls and people in scrubs giving him pitying looks that boiled his blood. He hated the continuous beeping sounds, that unnatural sterile scent, even the loud-ass flooring that made each step sound like a heavy weight being dropped. He despised everything about hospitals.

But none of that crossed his mind as he stormed into the main lobby of one with the force of an unrelenting tornado.

He slammed his hand down on the counter, feeling his bones rattle and threaten to break but he ignored the pain. He already had one hand in a cast, why not the other?

“Where is Kari Larsen?” He demanded of the two nurses behind the counter.

Neither nurse berated him of how he cut in line, bypassing the four other people, to demand their attention. A fucking miracle. As he stood there, waves of anger and desperation crashing over him, he wondered if they could see it and it kept their mouths shut. Was it so obvious how his edges were fraying? How what sanity he possessed was beginning to crumble until he knew - he could see - that Kari was alive.

One of them glanced over his shoulder, at his father and brother flanking him, and waved him closer. “Give me a moment and I'll check.”

The desire to scream at her to ‘hurry the fuck up’, ‘didn't she know who he was’, and how he wanted to ‘burn this entire building to the ground’ stung the back of his throat. But none of that passed his lips. For immobilizing terror gripped at his heart with claws sunk in deep, making that blackened organ threaten to stutter to a stop. How his lungs ached as if petrifying within his chest causing each breath to be a struggle to take in.

He had promised her.

He fucking PROMISED!

Uncaring of his hardened reputation, of never showing pain, he dropped his head in his hands, the cast rubbing against his cheek. He tried to take a deep breath, but the panic and self-loathing continued to crush his chest like a Medieval torture device. He just needed to know…he needed to see her.

Please…

The nurse's ‘customer' voice broke through his internal panic. “Miss Larsen is still in the emergency room but has been moved to a separate room for examination.”

Ivar moved before the nurse fully finished her sentence. Ignoring all those around him, he stormed through that hospital with only one destination in mind. At this point, he almost wished someone would try to stop him so he could hit someone, just do something instead of feeling like he was falling apart. Anger, he knew. Anger, he could work with. But not this terror, not this panic that was draining his sanity and attempting to suffocate him.

Perhaps, it was the scowl on his face that made people jump out of his way, the aura of danger that radiated off of him, or how he was flanked by his father and brother. With only a few concerned stares from nurses or those that worked there, he guessed they recognized him and his family. He had visited this godforsaken place enough times. Besides, he was a Lothbrok.

And Lothbroks owned this city.

Hvitserk raced ahead to open the doors leading into the emergency area, separate from the main hospital. They passed through without incident, into the chaos and mayhem. Sounds of a baby screaming, raised voices, the tang of blood and antiseptic cleaner, it all assaulted his senses but it barely phased him. There was only one thing he cared about right now.

Marching up to the large desk, he stopped, glaring at the first nurse he came across. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, with a ‘don't give a fuck anymore’ look as she typed away on the computer.

Too bad she had met her match today.

“Kari Larsen. Where is she?” He gritted through his teeth.

The older nurse sighed, looking up at him. “Young man, you need to wait–”

“WHERE IS SHE??!”

Silence echoed in the room. The sudden lack of sound felt like a black hole that suddenly exploded to destroy them all. All eyes turned to the trio at the front desk.

His father put a hand on Ivar's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Most likely intervening before Ivar jumped over the counter and repeatedly stabbed the ugly bitch with that damn pen she kept clicking.

“We received a call from this hospital that Kari Larsen was here. We've come to check on her and I am personally paying for any treatment she receives while here.”

“Fine. Your name, sir?”

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” He smirked lazily. “My information is on file. Send the bill to Mr Weber, the CFO. He knows how to contact me with any further questions.”

The five other nurses behind the desk all stared, one or two having paled at the name of Lothbrok spoken. The older nurse before them began to stutter out a response, her eyes having widened and mouth dropped open, like an wrinkly goldfish.

“Now, you will answer my son's question.” His father's voice hardened in displeasure. “In which room is Kari Larsen?”

“I…um…” One of the nurses stumbled out, clasping a blue patient folder to her chest like it was some shield to protect her from the Lothbrok's wrath. “I brought her for a CT scan…just…fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”

“Excellent, now–” Ragnar started to say but a rasped cry yanked the youngest Lothbrok's attention away.

“Ivar!”

He spun on his heel, facing the hallway just behind him and slightly to his right. All his fear, panic, anger, self-loathing- it all bubbled up to spectacularly erupt as he heard that voice call his name. Her voice! A voice even after three weeks without hearing its sound, he immediately knew. The voice his soul cried out for.

And there she was.

Beautiful…

Perfect…

….with dried blood on the side of her head and splattered on her sweater.

“Kari!” As quickly as his crippled legs could go, he bolted towards her.

At his responding cry, she broke away from the nurse walking next to her. The damn nurse tried to grab her, but Kari shook her hand off and began running.

Running to him!

With tears running down her cheeks.

She slammed into him, almost knocking them over with her momentum. Ivar stumbled back a couple steps, barely catching his footing, but he did not care. She was in his arms. Where she should be. Where she was meant to be. Finally.

As soon as she was enclosed in his arms, face pressed against his chest and hands fisting the front of his shirt, she began sobbing earnestly. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her as physically possible against himself as her whole body shook with each ragged sob.

Hearing her, he wished he could carve his chest open and allow her to crawl in. Fuck, he would do anything to take her pain, to have her even closer, to prove he was never letting her go again.

That he would always protect her.

“I've got you, Kari. I'm here.” The words flowed from him like an anguished prayer. “I'm here, sweet Kari. I'm not going anywhere.”

The scent of blood clung to her but he ignored it for the moment. She was here in his arms. Alive and well.

That was all that mattered.

He could have stood there for all eternity, the world continuing to spin and empires rising and falling without an ounce of care from him. None of it mattered. Three weeks he had been in turmoil and despair, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign from her. Anything to prove she still cared about him, still wanted him. That he had not completely fucked up the best thing in his life with a stupid mistake. He planned on planting roots right here on the dirty hospital floor for as long as Kari needed him. The fucking nurses and other patients could move around his crippled ass.

His father had other plans though.

A tap on his shoulder had Ivar looking up into his father's face, a subtle look of relief there. “There's a room for her. Let's move her there.”

He gave a brief nod. With the movement, he became aware of the moisture on his face. When had he started crying? He had been so absorbed in finally - finally! - seeing his kitten, in holding her and providing any kind of comfort she needed, he had not realized his own roiling emotions had exploded out in tears of relief and gratitude, that he was practically bleeding out his stress and harbored despair. And for one of the first times in his life, he did not care if others saw his tears.

Somehow he coaxed Kari along as he followed his father. A strange dance as they moved since she seemed to have no inclination of letting him go. Not that he objected in any way. It was in moments like this he cursed his legs, for if he was whole-bodied he could have picked Kari up and carried her. Instead, with an arm tight around her shoulders and her pressed against his side, refusing to release her vice-like grip on his shirt, they slowly moved.

The ‘room’ they were directed to was just a curtained off section with a single bed, single chair and some monitors pressed against the wall behind the bed. Similar to the many other sectioned off ‘rooms’ of patients waiting to be moved on or sent home.

Carefully, Ivar maneuvered Kari and himself to sit on the hospital bed. She curled against him, her ear against his heart and one hand toying with his Mjölnir necklace. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His other hand's fingers were intertwined with hers in his lap.

Like sentinels, his father sat in the chair, sharp gaze shifting from the closed curtain to his youngest son, while his brother took up position next to their father, arms crossed over his chest. The two began whispering but Ivar only briefly noted their presence.

His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something.

“What was that, kattungen?”

“You came.” She breathed, her voice raspy and shaky as if holding back more tears. “I gave them your number. I–I wasn't sure if you'd come. I just...I was scared and wanted you.”

How was it possible with such a simple statement, it completely disarmed him. His heart lurched at hearing the undercurrent of fear in her voice, sounding like a child admitting they were scared of the dark. What was worse, what broke his heart, was her fear that he would not come. That he would abandon her.

He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a slow syrup-like kiss, hoping his actions and words would penetrate through her worry. “I'll always come for you.”

“Please don't leave.”

He tipped his head up for a moment, a useless act to try and stop the fresh wave of tears from flowing freely down his cheeks. “I promise.” His voice broke as he answered. “I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She sobbed out, clinging to him even tighter if possible.

“Shhh…it's okay. Let's focus on getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, a faint thing, but he felt it for how tightly she was pressed against him.

A couple minutes later, a doctor stepped behind the curtain, joining the crowded space. He paused a moment, seeing to register the group along with his patient. He cleared his throat loudly before glancing down at the folder in hand.

“Good day, I'm Doctor Schultz, the attending doctor here today. Miss Larsen?” The doctor paused, eyes focused on his patient.

When she did not respond, Ivar squeezed her hand. “It's okay, søte Kari, I'm here.”

“Yes, doctor?” She quietly, hesitantly, said.

“How are you feeling?”

With that fucking stupid question, Ivar wanted to punch the absolute, incompetent asshole of a doctor but settled for glaring at him over Kari's head.

“I've been better.” She replied.

The doctor smiled. “I'm sure. The good news is your scans came back clean. You do not appear to have any cranial or brain damage more than a concussion.” He hesitated, as if rolling around a question in his mind before carefully allowing it out. “Is there anywhere else that hurts? My understanding is the paramedics said you were initially screaming when they arrived on scene.”

“Doctor, can you explain what occurred? We were not told about the incident beyond the fact that she was being attended to at this hospital.” Ragnar broke in, his voice broking no argument that his question would be answered first.

“Of course. Miss Larsen and a companion were involved in a car accident. It appears another driver was not paying attention and drove through a red light, impacting their vehicle.”

A car accident.

A goddamn car accident.

Inhaling sharply, Ivar felt the air stick to his lungs like glue. Mentally he thanked the gods, Fate and anyone listening for keeping Kari safe. The outcome could have been very different.

“Is Erik okay?” The quiet query came from beside Ivar.

“I'm not supposed to speak of other patients,” the doctor said but his face softened as he looked at Kari, “but I just saw him and he sustained more injuries than you. He likely will be walking out of here later today.”

“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten.

“My neighbor. He was driving us to the grocery store.”

Erik. Fucking Erik. Ivar did not like the overly friendly neighbor, the twat was trying to encroach on HIS territory. Now hearing this, he hated the man even more. The accident may not have been entirely his fault, but Kari was injured and traumatized while in his presence. That was unforgivable.

“Miss Larsen, is there anywhere that hurts? You were fairly nonverbal when you arrived.”

“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”

“May I take a look?”

Ivar loathed to separate from her, but he removed his arm from behind her so the doctor would examine her. Damn, if he was going to move though. Plus with the way Kari did not release his hand, he doubted she wanted him further away.

The doctor opened his mouth, but at the look that promised death on Ivar's face, he wisely did not ask Ivar to move.

“Hmm.” The doctor hummed as he looked at Kari's neck and ran a hand along the slender column. Gently, he tugged the neckline of her sweater to see better after touching it and asking if his touch caused pain.

Ivar gritted his teeth, as he glared with disdain at the invasive doctor. He was ready to intervene any moment the doctor went too far in his opinion but a purposeful squeeze from Kari's hand brought him back down. To distract them both, he brought their entwined fingers to his mouth. Teasingly, he kissed each of her knuckles as he held eye contact and gave a cheeky wink. His heart soared as a faint blush warmed her cheeks and a small, shy smile turned the corners of her lips up.

“Well, Miss Larsen,” the doctor stepped back and scribbled on his chart, “I do not see anything too concerning. I suspect the pain is from whiplash and the seat belt tightening. I can already see some bruising beginning on your shoulder, which may worsen. Unless the pain dramatically increases, you will be fine. You will be sore for a few days. My suggestion is to take some over the counter pain meds and rest for the next several days. If the pain worsens, either in your body or your head, come back to the ER. Any increasing headaches, double vision, spots in your vision, fainting, anything along those lines, please return and we will check on your concussion again. Before I release you, do you have anywhere to stay that someone can watch over you?”

“She's staying with me.”

Both the doctor's and Kari's gazes swung back to him but he only stared resolute at the man that needed to hurry the fuck up.

“Alright…Miss, are you agreeable to that?”

She nodded silently.

“Good. One final question, the paramedics were quite concerned about your hysterics. They made note that you only seemed to calm once they helped you out of the vehicle and even then you were silent and unresponsive for a period of time. Do you remember any of this?”

“Yes.” She croaked out, a violent shiver shaking her fragile form.

“Can you explain what happened?”

“Is this fucking necessary?” Ivar seethed, curling his arm protectively around her and tugging her back into his side.

“I would like to follow through with–”

Ragnar stood up, blue eyes hard as ice as he stared down the doctor. “Thank you for your time and follow through. If you can finalize the release paperwork, we will be on our way and allow you to move on with your many other patients.”

Bewildered gaze swinging to every person in the room, as if silently questioning Ragnar's subtle rebuke, the doctor sharply exhaled and stepped back to the closed curtain. “I will send a nurse in to provide the paperwork.”

With that the intrusive doctor swung open the curtain and strutted away.

Once out of sight, Ivar mumbled, “thought he'd never fucking shut up.”

“Be nice.” Kari murmured without any heat in it, more as if it was a reflex.

Ragnar stepped around the bed and began rustling through the small rolling cart beside the bed. He came back around with an antiseptic wipe. Ivar watched as his father ripped it open and then delicately wiped away the lingering blood on her temple and ear, with far more physical tenderness than he had ever shown his sons. Kari hissed at the initial contact but did not pull away, closing her eyes and slowly taking deep breaths.

Once cleaned to his satisfaction, Ragnar tossed the wipe into the nearby bin. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as if steeling himself for something. Ivar glanced over at his brother, who just shrugged, his own gaze focused on their father.

Ragnar crouched down, bringing himself eye level with Kari instead of standing over her like he had done. “Kari, do you want to leave?” He asked softly.

What kind of dumbass question was that? Ivar opened his mouth to intervene but a cutting look from Ragnar had him almost biting through his tongue to keep quiet.

“Yes.” She rasped back.

“Mmm…” Ragnar nodded. “I need you to look at me, yeah? Good girl. Will you be comfortable riding in a car after this?”

Kari tensed and Ivar wanted to bash his own head against the nearest wall. Of fucking course! Why had he not thought of that yet?

“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”

“No, Kari. Don't be sorry.” Ivar pressed his forehead to her uninjured temple. “We'll figure something out. It's not your fault.”

Ragnar spoke again, all soft edges and thoughtfulness. “Driving Ivar's car back would be the easiest and fastest. If you are uncomfortable with that, we can find an alternative mode of transportation or we can ask a nurse to mildly sedate you.”

With a tremor in her voice, she stated, “I can try. I think I can do it. Just…could you maybe drive slow?”

Ivar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent encouragement, astounded by her quiet bravery.

“I'm certain we can manage that.” Ragnar grunted, amusement in the quirk of his lips. “One last question.”

She nodded hesitantly.

“I need to know, if while we are driving, will you start screaming?”

This time she answered shakily. “No.”

“Do you recall why you were screaming at the accident?”

“Father.” Ivar growled, disliking this turn of questioning.

“I need to know for our safety.” He returned his sharp gaze back to Kari, but did soften his voice.“Do you remember?”

“Memories.”

“Memories?” Ragnar repeated.

She hummed.

“Were you in a car accident recently?”

“No…”

“That's enough.” Ivar snarled, tugging her closer into his side, as her quivering began anew. Whether it was those memories or fear that caused her bodily reaction, he refused to let his father bully her into an answer. He had promised to protect her…even if it was from his father's interrogation.

Icy blue eyes shifted from his youngest to the trembling, young woman in his arms before nodding and rising back to his feet. “I'll be back.” He swept out of the small room, the curtain fluttering closed behind him.

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, just before pressing a hand to her mouth and releasing a shaky sob.

Ivar held her close, sheltering her from her own turbulent emotions, as she tucked her face against him. Careful not to disturb her more, he wiped away the residue of tears from his cheeks with his right hand, mindful of his cast.

At the feeling of being watched, he met his brother's eyes from across the small closet of a curtained room. His favorite brother had always been an open book, easy to read his emotions. Even now, the relief and concern for Kari was evident in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded slowly and deliberately toward the woman in his arms. Ivar nodded in reply. A silent conversation but Ivar knew what it meant.

Whatever you need. I'll be there.

Several minutes later, when Kari's quiet sobs transitioned to sniffles, a nurse arrived with a clipboard and release papers. She nervously asked the two men in the room to step outside so she could ask Kari some questions privately. Ivar's hackles immediately rose, a scathing retort on his tongue ready to unleash on the nurse but a squeeze of his hand made the words fade away.

“I'm okay.” Those blue-green eyes held his, even though red rimmed and watery, he still thought they were one of his most favorite sights. “It'll only be a minute.”

“I'll be just on the other side of the curtain.” He promised, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Call out if you need me, kattungen.”

The subtle blush that arose on her cheeks drew a wicked smile to his lips. Before he could swoop in and kiss her, making them both forget the outside world, Kari lightly pushed on his chest.

“Go.”

“As my priestess commands.”

Her quiet laughter followed him out of the room, lightening his darkened heart like an eternal candle. Hvitserk closed the curtain behind them, taking up a position mirroring his own, standing guard in front of the room.

Other patients and nurses moved about the long hallway, some staring at the two brothers, but they were mostly ignored, the chaos and mayhem of the emergency room taking precedence.

Ivar closed his eyes, rubbing a hand along his forehead to try and encourage the brewing headache to fuck off.

“How are you holding up?”

He did not even open his eyes as he heard his brother's question. The exhaustion he had been fighting, dulled by the adrenaline from the phone call and finding Kari, now hit him like a semi truck. At this rate, it was debatable if he would actually be able to fall asleep or his body would crash into a coma, forcing him to rest. He just needed to get Kari to his house. If he could get the two of them there, then they could both rest and recover….and he could beg for her to never leave him again.

He released a long sigh. “I need a cigarette.”

“Want to step out? I'll stay with Kari.”

For a second, he considered it but ultimately shook his head. “I'm not leaving her.”

“What's your plan now? Sounds like you offered for her to stay with us.”

“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”

Hvitserk nudged him with his elbow. “You know it's not. Just…make sure that is what SHE wants.”

“I know.” Ivar ran his hand over his head. “I need her close by. After this…I need to know she's okay.”

“Well, with the way she wouldn't let you go, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Ivar chuckled quietly, warmth flooding his entire body at the reminder. He thought that perhaps she had forgiven him and they could move forward after this. Whatever that looked like, he would take. As long as she was by his side, he did not care what title it held. He just needed her. She was his morning sunrise, the stars in his night sky. Without her, his world was dark and filled with pain and anger.

A new set of footsteps coming down the hallway had the brothers looking up. At the face that came into view, Ivar's fatigue drained away again. Fury pulsated like a second heartbeat in his chest, shooting its tendrils throughout his body like a living organism.

Without a second thought, his feet moved.

The nurse walking with the man seemed to take note of Ivar first and her face paled. She halted, eyes darting around as if searching for help, for someone to intervene. It was only then her patient took notice.

But it was too late. It was time to pass the man's sentence and in this case, Ivar was judge, jury and executioner.

He stormed up to the man, with rage a phantom above him and vengeance nipping at his heels. “You stay the fuck away from Kari. This is your fucking fault she's here!”

“No, the other driver–” Erik tried to defend himself but Ivar was beyond caring about excuses.

Ivar shoved him. Hard.

Erik stumbled back and fell on his ass, unable to fully stop his fall with his right arm in the sling. A pained hiss slipped from his lips as his body jolted at hitting the floor.

“Sir, you can't–” the nurse tried to step in but Ivar pointedly ignored her, his full attention at the man sprawled at his feet.

“I don't give a fuck! You stay the fuck away from her!”

He took a step back, his eyes, cold as stone, stared the man down as if daring him to say anything. He could see the scattering of cuts on Erik's face and body, most likely from the airbag, the arm sling, and the wrap around his knee. None of it phased the Lothbrok. He did not give a flying fuck about him or his injuries. Under Erik's watch, Kari had gotten hurt. Something that would NEVER happen again.

Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Ivar turned to head back to his brother when he heard the resentful mutter behind his back.

“Psycho asshole.”

He could feel the insult sink in and flow through every part of his body. His concern had been for Kari, with keeping her safe. But now, with that one utterance…the idiot had made this personal.

Before Erik blinked, Ivar had whipped around and grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt. He hauled him up roughly to stare into his face. The youngest Lothbrok reveled in the shock and fear that coated the blond's face. People always forgot that he spent a good portion of his life crawling around when his legs were unusable due to surgeries or pain, which built up his upper body strength. Even now, he still enjoyed working out his upper body, being as strong as possible, proving he was more than his useless legs.

“You want to say that to my face, you little fucker?” He sneered. “Huh?”

“IVAR!”

At the shout of his name, he looked over his shoulder. Hvitserk stood beside Kari, the latter with a hand over her mouth and beseeching eyes wide. A few paces in front of them stood his father, the one who called his name, poised ready to intervene and yank his son away.

Without remorse, Ivar roughly let go of Erik. “Stay away from her, or I won't be so nice next time.” With the threat looming above them, he turned and headed back to his family…

…Back to his kitten and hopefully away from this fucking awful place.

“Kari, you don't have to go with him!”

Ivar froze. Again.

“I–I can drive you home. I'll be discharged soon if you'll just…wait.”

The entire hall waited with baited breath. Only the sounds of the machines beeping could be heard.

Yet his whole world had narrowed down to Kari. His eyes zeroed in on her, waiting, watching, for a sign, a subtle hint, instruction on what to do next. Did he go to her? Or was she terrified of him once again? Should he turn around and rip that little fucker's spine out of his body? As these questions whirled about like a chaotic storm, his feet remained firmly planted.

Until her.

Like a sunbeam breaking through the darkest storm, that was his Kari.

His light. His life.

With his name on her lips but no sound uttered, she held out her hand for him. Those stunning eyes focused on him, calling, summoning, drawing him in.

And like a moth to the flame, he followed. But instead of death being at the source of light for him, there was the brightest joy and affection, belonging and loyalty.

He reached out, taking her hand as he got closer and drew her back to his side. He planted a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Let's go home, kattungen.”

Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik.

They followed Hvitserk and Ragnar out to Ivar's car. Ragnar drove with his son in the passenger seat, and Ivar and Kari in the back. Kari was still tucked in his side, head on his shoulder and holding hands.

As the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her body began to subtly shake. Ivar tugged her onto his lap and began softly speaking, trying to soothe her in his native tongue. Like a child, she tucked her face into his neck as if to hide from the world. Her hand gripped his with a death grip, but he paid no mind, encouraging and comforting however he could.

About halfway through the drive, Kari finally spoke, her trembling having subsided. “Why do you have a cast?”

He glanced down at the damn thing laying across her thighs. “Broke my hand.”

“How?”

“Boxing.”

“Hmmm…did you win?”

He snorted, glancing at her, meeting her face with a small smile. “I always win.”

“Uh huh. Sure you do.” She rasped out, her voice sounding a little stronger but still rough.

“Are you teasing me right now?”

She mock-gasped. “No one would dare tease you.”

He squeezed the top of her knee, making her squirm and squeak. “And you remember that.”

The conversation died out; silence reigned for a while. Ivar rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand as he rested his head on top of hers with eyes closed. Exhaustion crept back in once again, tugging his eyelids shut and numbing his mind. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, with Kari joining him, and lock his bedroom door so no one could bother them for at least three days. Maybe a week.

“Oh no!” Kari gasped, abruptly sitting upright.

Her sudden startle, sent a shockwave through him. He bolted upright, mind racing. “What?”

“All my groceries. They were in the back of Erik's car. I don't– I don't have money to buy more.”

He chuckled, tugging her back to lean against him. He could not believe she would panic over such a small thing. “Don't worry about it. I've got it.”

“But, that's not–”

“Kari,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I'll take care of it. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She answered correctly but he could see - could sense - her hesitation, that wavering confidence. Something he needed to alleviate.

He released her chin to tenderly caress her cheek before guiding her forehead to press against his. “I'll take care of you.” He repeated, hoping his words would sink into her mind and plant there, for he meant every one. “Whatever you need. Groceries. New clothes. A car. I'll get it, you just tell me. Okay?”

“You don't have to. It's not–”

“I want to.” He interrupted. “I want to take care of you. Don't you understand. I…I failed you but that won't happen again. Please, kitten. Please, just let me do this.”

Time paused as he waited for her reply, for her agreement, for a sign. Anything! Forehead still pressed to his, she slowly breathed. Panic might have crept in to discourage him if he had not been able to feel her hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She was still so relaxed, so trusting, in his lap. He knew all he had to do was wait.

And so he waited for her.

Like he promised he would.

Finally, she quietly sighed out her response before slipping back against his chest and cuddling close. “Thank you, Ivar.”

A wave of gratitude and affection filled his soul. A dopey grin on his face, he tugged her closer and laid his head back on hers.

“Anything for you, Kari.”

Tag List:

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

#to call forth love #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #vikings au #vikings ivar #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x oc #ivar x ofc #ragnar #vikings ragnar #hvitserk vikings #hvitserk lothbrok #mz writes

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spacedoutman · 2 months

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Velvet von Ragnar x oc fanfic 4u2c

Where would that girl end up? Hopefully, whatever happened, it would be the best it could possibly be. Leni’s mind whisked her away like a hurricane. Penny. Maybe her name would change at some point, right? Maybe, she’d wind up in a prestigious college and move on to never worry about anything again.

Maybe, hopefully, she could use dollar bills as makeup wipes and reassure Leni there was a lot more in the bank and that there was nothing to worry about.

Penny. The disappearance of the love of her life never stopped haunting top-secret agent Helena “Leni” Hé. What happens when the ghost of her past comes back to not only haunt her, but put everything Leni had ever fought for on the line? What happens when that ghost is the psychopathic Velvet von Ragnar?

Can she stop herself from falling for her again?

Warnings: Unethical government shit, abuse, addiction and a lot of dark topics which I do my best to handle respectfully.

“If you told me.. what, fifteen or so years ago? I’d be some sort of undercover agent ‘playing with chemicals’ and shooting guns in the future, I’d scoff.” Leni said in a mocking voice. She could pick up on her slight slur fine. “-I’d scoff at you and say, ‘you’re ridiculous’.” She paused. “But uh.. I don’t think I’d even say that cause’.. really, what could I say?”

I know never too young to die was a movie without a lot of plot or thought put into it--but what happens when I overthink EvERYThing?

Well, well, well, Buckle up (if you like) because this is gonna be a wild ride.

I've read a lot about the CIA and have read up on a lot of crazy things the government has done or was willing to do and the fanfic will hopefully have no shortage of that. I also really want to dive into the effects that a job like that can have on someone.

Velvet makes for such a good villain too she's charming af but uhh anyway I also want to make Leni as human as I possibly can. I might have hit my head while trying to write her out but that's okay. I promise Velvet will be put in lots of fancy dresses though

(Leni is literally watered down kinda butch secret agent stereotype but suffering due to excessive trauma and hates her job)

“How can I not? This is more conclusive than anything we’ve ever found. Then that piece of shit will finally be underground and justice will actually be served.”

Read it here :,)

Oooh also it comes with art

#I published it last night but I'm so damn tired i think I forgot #i am stressed #gene simmons #velvet von ragnar #never too young to die #velvet von ragnar x oc #fanfic #writing #why am i alive

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we-are-only-halfway-home93 · 10 months

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Come and Lay the Roses 36- Angel of Mercy- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Aaline and Ivar are finally reunited.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence, sex, torture, language, mentions of rape/sexual assault

Ch. 35

AN: Wow. It's been a long time. I've been thinking about this chapter for a long time and haven't been able to pin down why I waited so long to update. Part of me blames writer's block, part of me blames my schedule and timing, but the biggest thing I think that kept me from updating was that this would mean the end of this journey.

I came up with the idea for this story in May 2019 and after four years, it's finally finished. I don't think I was ready to end this journey and part with Aaline and the Lothbrok clan. I've been telling myself for weeks that I need to finish it and I've finally decided that I'm ready to end this journey.

I thank all of you who have stuck with me on this adventure.

“Angel of mercy, how did you find me? How did you pick me up again? Angel of mercy, how did you move me? Why am I on my feet again?”

~ “Mercy” by OneRepublic

She was warm. A marked difference from the last few weeks of her existence. She inhaled deeply and slowly, allowing the world to come back into focus. She blinked and surveyed the room she was in.

It was her room. Her and Ivar’s. The curtains were closed except for a six inch gap that allowed sunlight to stream in and light up the dim room. There was just enough to maneuver the room but not wake her.

She shifted and winced at the sharp pain that lanced through her back. It would’ve been gracious to call the bed she’d slept on for the last few weeks a cot. It was barely more than a metal frame with a threadbare mattress. The metal bars had dug painfully into her bones for the few days she tried to sleep on it. Eventually she took to sleeping on the floor. It was more comfortable by far but still gave her stiff muscles. Sleeping on a real mattress had done little to ease the ache.

She shifted slowly up to her elbows and glanced around. Clothes were littered on the floor. A serving tray of dirty dishes sat on the dresser across the room and a half full glass of water on the nightstand. She looked at the alarm clock and noted that it was the middle of the afternoon.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept or how many days had passed since her rescue. She felt grimy and dirty and knew she hadn’t been bathed since then. She decided not to wait around for someone to help her and hoisted herself out of the bed.

With stiff legs, she made her way to the bathroom and blinked rapidly against the bright white light that penetrated her eyes. She smiled at the bouquet of black roses that were situated in the middle of the counter. Ivar had even left a short note expressing his love. He didn’t date stamp it so she didn’t know when he’d written it but she settled it back on the counter anyway, contentment thriving through her veins.

She switched the shower head on high and undressed. Someone, probably Ivar, had dressed her simply. She pulled the black comfort t-shirt over her head and slipped her panties down her legs. The dirt and grime from the concrete room she’d been held in still decorated her body in streaks of gray and black and brown. She looked at her face in the mirror and narrowed her eyes at the vibrant purple bruise along her jaw and the dried blood that had caked itself in her nostrils and along her upper lip.

She tried to comb the rat's nest that was her hair so she didn’t tangle it further in the shower but there was little hope for the strands. She pushed it back from her face and stepped into the shower when the steam fogged up the mirror beyond sight.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her mouth. The hot air filled her lungs and she felt herself relax. Her muscles began to unclench and she could feel her body disengaging from fight or flight mode.

Once the trembling in her hands had stopped, she picked up Ivar’s shampoo and dropped a generous dollop in her hand. She massaged the minty soap through her hair and shivered as her scalp began to tingle.

She combed her fingers through the knots as best she could, wincing at the extra sharp tugs that befell her scalp when she came to a particularly vicious snarl. She rinsed the lather and began again, working to clean all the grease and grime from her hair that she could manage.

She used her own rose scented body wash to scrub the dirt and grime from her body, scrubbing twice like she did for her hair, before turning to the leave in conditioner. She worked the lather into her hair before tilting her head back and closing her eyes, letting the hot water pelt her chest and stomach.

She startled at the sound of the bathroom slamming open. She barely had time to shut the water off before the shower door slid open and she was pulled into Ivar’s arms. He didn’t seem to mind that she was soaking wet and dampening his clothes. He pulled her out of the steam and lifted her, settling her on the counter top. She shivered against the temperature difference and he left her arms only long enough to wrap a towel around her shoulders.

He returned to her embrace and she wrapped her arms and legs around him fully, holding him in the embrace of her body. She felt him sign against her neck and knew it was a weight leaving his shoulders. He pulled back and pushed her hair behind her ears with the flat of his palm. She nuzzled into the contact.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked, his fingers combing through the wet strands of her hair. She nodded against his palm and tangled her fingers in the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

“How many people did you kill searching for me?” She asked. He smirked and stepped out of her embrace. He took a second towel from the rack on the wall and began meticulously drying her off. He started from the top, softly stroking the towel over her hair, squeezing the ends. He trailed it across her shoulders and down her arms, stroking over the crease of her elbow and over the backs of her hands. He even toweled off the spaces between her fingers.

“Innumerable. There is no number that will equal how precious your life is to me.” He answered. He brought the towel to her legs and traced her thighs and hips. She sucked in a soft breath when he gently toweled off the space between her legs, stroking the curls and dragging between the crease of her thigh. He smirked before stepping back and lifting first one leg and then the other, settling the balls of each foot on his chest and he dried her calves and feet.

When he was satisfied, he pulled open the mirror and reached for her lotion and moisturizer. She closed her eyes and he traced his fingers gently over the planes of her face, taking care with her bruises. He rubbed in her moisturizer before opening her lotion and smoothing his hands over her chest. She shuddered when he worked the lather into her breasts, the spaces of his fingers catching on her nipples in a way that she wasn’t a hundred percent certain was accidental.

She opened her eyes when he withdrew and almost shouted when he lifted her from the counter and returned to the bedroom. She let him settle her on the bed as he pulled a new shirt, his, and new underwear, hers, from the dresser.

He took her breath away when he dropped to a knee before her and, not once breaking eye contact, slid her panties up her legs. She shifted so he could settle them over her hips. He hovered over her, his mouth a hair's breadth away from hers but denied her a kiss. “If you’re trying to seduce me, it’s working.” She whispered. He grinned before picking up the new t-shirt and sliding it over her head without ceremony. She laughed as she pulled her head through the neck and slid her arms through the sleeves.

Ivar grew serious as soon as she reappeared and she twisted around on the bed to face him. She let him examine her face, which she knew was a mess of cuts and bruises. “I’m fine, Ivar.” She said.

He met her eyes and gave her a sad smile. She leaned forward into his space. “You know, this whole time I’ve been awake, you haven’t kissed me.” Ivar tilted his head to the side, his smile growing playful. “Kiss me, husband.” She said, and Ivar was unable to do anything but obey.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, his tongue seeking entrance almost immediately. She moaned and pressed forward, deepening their kiss. Ivar groaned and pulled back, licking his lip. She grinned at him, blood on her teeth. Ivar growled and leaned forward, his hand settling at her throat and squeezing.

She groaned as Ivar tilted her head to the side and trailed kisses down the side of her throat. They left fire in their wake and Aaline sighed, settling her hands on Ivar’s forearms as he maneuvered her head whichever way he wanted.

She trailed her hands up his arms to his shoulders, tightening her fingers in the fabric of his t-shirt. “There’s something that I have to tell you.” Ivar hummed as he licked a line up the left side of her throat. She moaned when he nipped at the hinge of her jaw.

“I’ve been meaning to say it for awhile butー” She’s cut off as a whimper works its way past her lips when Ivar sucked a mark into her throat at the curve of her neck and shoulder. Ivar hummed and switched sides, trailing nipping kisses up the other side of her neck. She knew she’d have marks to show for his affections.

“What did you want to say?” He whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. He traced the curve of it with his tongue before biting the lobe. She gasped and clutched tighter as his shoulders.

“I didn’t tell you before. I was afraid.” Ivar pulled back and met her eyes, his hands moving to cup her face. His thumbs stroked over her cheekbones. She blinked at him, her hands releasing his shirt and smoothing out the fabric.

“I love you.” She whispered, her voice trembling. Ivar hummed and stroked his thumb across her cheek. He leaned for and settled his forehead against hers.

“As I love you.” He responded. Aaline released a watery laugh before surging forward and kissing him. Ivar laughed and opened his mouth to her, letting her devour him. She sat up on her knees and pressed bodily against him. Ivar groaned and stroked his hands down her back, reveling in the feeling of his wife safe in his arms again.

Aaline giggled as Ivar’s hands smoothed up her back, taking her t-shirt with him on his way. She settled in his lap, relief flowing through her veins as her husband proceeded to make love to her.

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