#vikings x oc

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Recuerdo

Summary:  Ubbe wasn't sure what he was expecting when he went to Mexico, and he certainly didn't think that he would fall in love with both a girl and the culture at the same time. When Xochilt comes into his life, the last thing he expected was that there would have to be a choice between family and love

AN: Thanks a bunch @vikingstrash for being patient with me and making the really great dividers and moodboards, and hope y’all enjoy this as I might write a series for these two.

Ubbe hadn’t really meant to learn Spanish.

When he and his younger brothers were still in high school, Hvitserk had chosen to sign up for a pen pal program in the school that was aimed at improving the student’s language skills. Needless to say, Hvitserk didn’t learn much Spanish while he was in school, it wouldn’t be until he was in university that he would even learn any of the language but to avoid his brother failing, Ubbe learned the language on his brother’s behalf. Looking back, perhaps it would have been better to let Hvitserk fail and learn on his own but ultimately Ubbe did appreciate being able to learn a language that was different from his own.  

In filling the role of “pen pal,” Ubbe had struck up a small friendship with the person Hvitserk had been assigned to correspond. She was a nice girl from Mexico; Xochilt and explained to him from their very first letters that her name didn’t sound like he probably thought it did. She was a sweet person; frequently speaking of her family and everything they did together, her ambitions to see more of the world and possibly become a translator, and so much more she shared with him through letters.

But this was a time when an email or phone call wasn’t quite as feasible for her compared to Ubbe, so as time went on, communicating simply became much harder for them. Until eventually, communication ceased between the two when Ubbe went off for university to take up a position in his father’s company.

Years went by and a lot happened in his life since his cheerful days of writing letters; he married and divorced, his father died, his brothers fought bitterly over the family company before they worked things out, and at last things seemed to be settling down.  

With all of his brothers working together to run their late father’s company, they all decided it would be good to expand it outside the company and who better to begin their expansion than Ubbe. Out of all his brother’s, he was the most fluent in multiple languages and they sent him off to begin the Latin American branch in the heart of Mexico City. He would spend the first year in the country as the company established itself and when that time ended, he would return back to his home in Denmark.  

January

He had been in Mexico for roughly three weeks when he decided to take one of his employees' recommendations to check out the local markets or visit the plaza when he had the chance. Things had been a whirlwind of getting used to the time zone, using another language frequently, and settling himself in his temporary apartment. Ubbe figured that with the next meeting being in two weeks, it would give him the opportunity to get to know a bit of the place that he would live in for the next year.

For it being January, the weather was a nice mild 72 F (22 C) and Ubbe really looked forward to seeing the tianguis that he had heard some things about. The employee had briefly mentioned that depending on the area, would also determine whether or not the tianguis would be set up or if the streets would be bare. It took a bit of asking around and making sure that he used the correct words to find out that it would be best for him to go out on a Tuesday, as every week that is when people from the area near his apartment would set up their stalls.

Everything felt so vibrant, loud, and exciting for Ubbe as he walked amongst the people that were clearly there to purchase goods from the many open stalls. Samples of fruit and tasty treats had been quickly placed into his hands from the various vendors as he let himself be moved and pulled along with the crowd that flowed beneath the tarps that sheltered them from the slight sprinkling of rain.

It did feel a little stifling for the man as he had rarely ever been to anything similar to the market that he was currently in, he was a little embarrassed to think that he had spent so long having someone else buy his groceries or items that he had missed out on experiencing something similar. In letting himself be pulled in every which way, Ubbe hadn’t had much of a chance to ask too many questions but it was amazing to him that so many people del barrio were the ones that had set up the market and stalls out the front of their homes.

He was on the edge of the market and close to an open road, when someone called out to him.

“Oye, güerito. Do you mind moving out of the way? Someone’s trying to get past you and you’re blocking their way.”

Ubbe looked over his shoulder and spotted an elderly woman trying to get around him but was struggling to do so, quickly he moved and helped the woman pick up her basket onto the sidewalk and was rewarded with a nice pinch on the cheek.

Once more the voice called out to him, “I have never seen you around these parts. Where are you from güerito?”

Ubbe looked around to find who it was that kept talking to him, a young woman with long dark hair gently waved at him in amusement from where she was perched. A much older woman sat beside her and she softly tapped at her shoulder, whispering something that he couldn’t quite hear and moved away from her stall of pottery.

“You never answered my question güerito, are you simply visiting the area or a tourist?” she asked.

“I suppose both, since I am from Denmark” he chuckled. “But I’m here for the year and wanted to see the tianguis that one of my employees had mentioned to me. I will be honest, I am a little bit overwhelmed with everything but I think that I would like to come again on the days that I am not too busy.”

“Well there is plenty in the city and even the barrio itself for you to see, if I remember correctly there should be more than 150 museums for you to choose from and see the things that they have to offer” she said with a pensive expression. “Some of them are free to the public, but like many places there are others that charge a modest fee for the experience of getting to see everything.”    

“You’re very knowledgeable about it all, have you been to all 150 museums?”

She laughed, “No I have not. But I am very proud of where I am from and what better way to show it off than to know as much as I can about the very place in which I was born.”

“Have you ever thought about being a tour guide?” he asked. “You seem like you have plenty of stories to tell about it all and would probably know much more than you’re letting me on.”

“I feel like you’re subtly trying to ask me if I would be willing to show you around some of these things since you have very little knowledge about these things” she said and smiled in amusement. “You’re still a stranger to me and I don’t go to places without at least knowing someone’s name.”

She looked at him pointedly and gestured to let him know that she was waiting.

"My name is Ubbe, Ubbe Ragnarsson."

"Huh," she chuckled. "I have no idea how common that name is in your country Ubbe, because I remember while in high school there was a boy who wrote on his brother's behalf with that exact name."

He frowned in confusion but also furrowed his brow in wonder.

"What's your name?"

"My name is Xochilt, Xochilt Rodriguez but my name doesn't sound like how you think it will be spelled."

"Well how would you spell your name? Maybe I do know how it's supposed to be."

"It's X - O - C - H - I - L - T"

"Looks like it is a very small world then Xochilt, because I am pretty sure that I was that same person that wrote to you on his brother's behalf."

A smile lit up her features and she called out to her great grandmother, "Mama Consuelo encontre el güerito de cuando estaba en la secundaria!"

May

Time went quickly and Ubbe couldn’t believe that he had already been in Mexico for 5 months, spending so much time with Xochilt and her great grandmother Doña Consuelo, it felt like he had always lived in Mexico. Of course, he couldn’t ignore that his brothers frequently called to ask him how he was doing and whether or not there was progress in the Latin American branch of their company but it only felt like background noise to everything that he was experiencing each and every day.

On weekends or whenever either of the two had the chance to see one another, they would go to see some of the sights that Xochilt was always telling him about.

They had gone to Xochimilco where the canals were filled with numerous color boats and they had a blast when they invited others to join them, drinking and laughing together as the people made the ride more exciting. They had been to the Zocalo, where Ubbe had been intimidated by the various men that were dressed in what Xochilt said was the traditional garb of warriors before the Spaniards had come to colonize the country. The men were understanding that it was a bit much and both ruffled his hair while giving him a fist bump to acknowledge Ubbe doing his best to not be intimidated.

Ubbe and Xochilt had done and seen so much together, now in the middle of May they stood before the imposing structures of Teotihuacan. The pyramids according to Xochilt were those of the moon and sun where ceremonies used to take place but also where sacrifices tended to take place.

The trek to get to the temples was long and Ubbe already felt like giving up when he saw the size of the structures but after a lot of pep talking from Xochilt and realizing halfway that the distance between going back and going up was the same, they had made it to the top of temple of the moon.  

It was a breathtaking sight around them as they stood there, both because Ubbe was absolutely exhausted after the arduous journey to get there and also because as he watched Xochilt smile in content when a cool breeze blew through her hair, his poor heart had skipped several beats.

“Te amo Xochilt.”

She turned to him startled, Ubbe felt as if his heart would beat out of his chest but he wouldn’t take it back. Perhaps they had only truly spent a few months together in person, but coupled with their adolescent friendship only solidified his feelings for her all the more.

“I know that I don’t have much time left in Mexico, but I need you to know how I feel and also, if you would possibly think about traveling with me back to Denmark.”

“Ubbe... as much as I would like to even think of the possibility, I can’t just leave my great grandmother behind to go with you.”

“We could bring her with us and with the branch of my company establishing itself better, we could come back more frequently if you’re ever feeling homesick.”

“Ubbe, I really can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked, “Is there something that I am missing?”

“Have you ever noticed how my Mama tends to ask you to repeat yourself at times or will sometimes forget if she’s done a task?”

“Yes...”

“She was recently diagnosed with Parkinson’s, and we don’t know how much her memory will deteriorate but I can’t just leave her alone while she’s going through this Ubbe. She needs me, do you understand?”

“Yes, I do” as much as it crushed Ubbe, he would never do anything to possibly hurt Doña Consuelo.

“Can we still stay friends, Ubbe?”

He smiled softly and gently pulled her into a hug, “Always.”

October

While Xochilt was inside cooking lunch, Ubbe offered his help to Doña Consuelo to put the various linens and shirts to dry out on the clothesline. It was a slow and clumsy attempt as he struggled to pin the things onto the line, but the elderly woman appreciated it all the same as she calmly pointed out what he could do.

“Mi niño, stop what you are doing for a moment” the woman said.

Ubbe worried that he would be scolded for either his lack of speed or that he was doing the task incorrectly. The woman motioned for him to crouch down and in his haste to do so, slipped and fell in the process.

“Buena cosa que mi nieta didn’t fall in love with your grace,” the woman laughed a throaty chuckle.

“We’re simply friends Doña, nothing more.”

“Me crees pendeja? I didn’t have five children without knowing how men’s minds work and recognizing the signs of love when I see them” she said. “But I also know that neither you or Xochilt want to risk taking the first step.”

Ubbe smiled sadly, “That’s where you’re wrong Doña Consuelo, I already confessed to Consuelo but she already rejected me.”

“Both of you are so dumb, my grandaughter more so. Listen to me carefully, fight for this love because it’s precious” she told him softly, holding his hands in her own weathered palms. “The older you get like me, the more people you lose and all that you are left with are the recuerdos when they are gone.”      

“But... I’m scared Doña,” Ubbe said softly. “What if I get my heart broken and despite what you say, Xochilt could turn me down once more and I wouldn’t want to push her to give me an answer that I want.”

“Matters of the heart are delicate, mî niño. I know that Xochilt is worried about me most when she answers you” said Doña Consuelo. “I have lived a long life and my memories get foggier everyday y un dîa no tendré recuerdos, but until then I want to see you both happy for as long as my memory allows.”

Ubbe clearly hesitated, but Doña Consuelo simply smiled at him and mouthed for him to go, gesturing toward her great granddaughter as she glanced at them from the open window.

4 Years Later

“Me da tanto gusto verte niña” her Uncle Alejandro greeted, happily wrapping Xochilt in a warm embrace. “I am grateful that you traveled all this way in your state to come and visit us.”

She laughed softly, “I am only pregnant tío, and the doctor gave me a check up to be sure that it would be okay to travel.”

Her uncle turned to Ubbe, “La cuidas muchacho. Her grandmother may not be with us, but I can scold you on her behalf.”

While Ubbe held onto their son Ragnar and was scolded by the older man, Xochilt carefully approached the small altar that had been placed in the middle of the room. The images of those they had lost through the years seemed to almost smile at her return. Every uncle, aunt, cousin, and even her parents. She knew each of them by name and knew who they were, even if she hadn’t known them very well in life.

Gingerly she kneeled to look at the newest addition to the altar and carefully picked up the frame of her great - grandmother, smiling at her the same way she had when given the news of another great - great grandchild soon to be born.

It had only been a few months since Doña Consuelo had passed and Xochilt still felt the dull ache of pain that she wouldn’t get to see her great - grandmother. But it was also a bitter sweet sentiment that she would have once a year in which the older woman would be able to come and visit, to see Xochilt’s children grow and learn more about her through the stories of her life.  

“Hi Mama,” Xochilt greeted Doña Consuelo. “It’s been some time since I have talked to you, but gracias a Dios, Ubbe, Ragnar and I were able to come for a visit.”

Carefully Xochilt pulled out the bottle of tequila that she had brought as an offering and poured out a shot, setting it on the table of the altar. “Normally I would drink a shot with you, but at 6 months, I wouldn’t do that considering I want your great - great granddaughter to be healthy.”

Xochilt hadn't been pregnant with her second for very long when she told her great grandmother the news, sadly both her memory and health declined drastically after the exciting news. Doña Consuelo never had the chance to learn that she was to have a great great grandmother before she passed away.

"You know Mama, both Ubbe and I were talking about names recently but couldn't seem to come to an agreement. But on our plane ride here, we found a name that we liked very much" Xochilt chuckled as she wiped away her tears. "How do you feel about Consuelo being named after you?"

Despite obviously receiving no response, Xochilt couldn't help but imagine the old woman would have told her that her name wasn't that special and to choose a more traditional name for the baby before ultimately giving up to then smother her great granddaughter with all the affection she had always given her.

"I miss you so much everyday Mama, but I know that you will always be with me por que en mis recuerdos siempre estarás." 

Tagged: 

@vikingsbigbang @vikingstrash @ietss @pinkrockstar19 @thenightperson @xbellaxcarolinax​ @quantumlocked310​

#ubbe imagine #ubbe x oc #ubbe ragnarsson x oc #vikings big bang 2022 #fluff #some angst #latina oc #vikings big bang winter 2022 #vbbw22 #ubbe x reader #vikings x oc #vikings x reader

[ghouljams]

Goose leg locking Viking!ghost…. Ghost holding goose down and fucking her dumb…. Ghoul I’m gonna smooch ur brain

You bounce on Ghost's fat, weeping, cock. Every drag of it, the way the thick head catches against your opening, making your eyes roll back. The angle of your hips, the way he pulls you down to meet his sharp thrusts, you can barely breathe through each deep stroke. You choke on your moans, listening to the half murmured dialogue of your partner. "There you go," he tells you, "taking it so well, just-" he groans, his head tipping back against your pillows. You curl your fingers against his chest, head dropping forward as he keeps hitting something desperate and aching deep in your cunt. You can feel him pounding against your womb with perfect precision, punching the air from you as you shake and shiver on his lap.

More. You shiver, grind your hips more eagerly against him, feel him dragging you back and forth, forward and back, hitting the perfect spot every time until your vision goes white and you squeak with pleasure. More. Ghost grips your wrists and pins them back by your side, forcing you to sit back, your back arching as he fucks up into you. You think he likes seeing you like this, your tits bouncing with each thrust of his cock, and your orgasm shaking through you. His eyes are trained on you with rapt devotion. More. His brows draw together, and he groans as you tighten around him. He's quick to switch his grip again, grabbing your ass and trying to lift you off of him, off the perfect sinful cock that is going to have you coming again if he'll let you. You're quick to fight against this affront, pushing your pussy back down his length, holding you hips down firm against his.

"Sweet'art," he groans, "need ta come, you gotta let me-"

You cut him off with a roll of your hips, fluid and wanting. You press forward, bouncing in shallow strokes up and down his length, laying yourself against his chest and murmuring in his ear. "Inside, inside," you don't care how desperate you sound, it's what you want, what you need, "inside please, please Simon," he stiffens at his proper name but you push through, "want a baby, want you to breed me, please."

His hand wraps around your throat, pushes you back. You scramble to get your hands under you as Ghost flips your positions, pressing you down into the bed while his cock nestles itself against your cervix. He gives a hard deep thrust and your back arches, your hips jerking at the feeling of tight heat ricocheting through your body. "Then we gotta make sure it all stays where it's suppose to, don't we?" He asks, his voice rough, tight with something, it sounds like he's been dragged across rocks.

You cross your ankles behind his back, locking his hips against yours, making his shallow thrusts shallower. Ghost groans low, the sound rumbling through his chest. He closes his eyes, head dropping forwards as his breathing grows heavier. After a second of thought he reaches a hand between you, his thumb brushing against your clit. You jerk in his hold and he chuckles. You get a half second to draw a breath before Ghost is resting his weight on you, his stomach pressing against yours, his body holding you down and forcing your legs to follow where his hips lead.

"Can't let you squirm away," he tells you, "gotta do this right. Gods-" Ghost drags his lips against yours, your mouth open and panting, stuck trying to draw in a breath when every thrust of his hips seems to push the air out of you, "-look'it you, be so pretty fat with my son."

Daughter, you think fleetingly, it'll be a daughter. The thought, just like every other, is pushed far from your mind along with your breath as Ghost's hips snap, his cock punching your cervix before flooding your cunt with warmth. He's kind enough to keep your hips tilted up, his own locked tight against you with the help of your legs and his own stubborn determination.

He all but collapses on top of you when he'd finished emptying his full balls into you. Wraps his arms under you to hold you tight as he sinks his teeth into your neck. You yelp, feeling the sharp points of his canines just break the skin. You don't know what you expect when he pulls away but it isn't his tongue rolling over the blood starting to pool against your skin, or the gutteral, "Mine," that seems to rip from his throat.

"Get to keep you now," Ghost growls, and you can't think of anything to do but nod. You get to keep him too.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #viking!ghost #oc: goose #theyre both insane and feral but theyre feral together

[squishycheekanon]

La da de da viking Price for the win🛡️🌺

Your heavy snow boots trudged through the thick mounds of pure white snow, the freezing breeze was pinching and nipping at your cheeks. The cold had began to hurt your nose as you breathed, the back of your throat dry. Trying your hardest to keep warm, you shove your chin and mouth further into the top of your coat and breathe out hot air.

You only wanted to hunt for food and go back home, but seeing as you couldn’t find any animals near your little cabin, you had to venture elsewhere for the hunt. Something you annoyingly regretted the further away from home you got.

An exaggerated sigh left you for the twentieth time today as you knelt down on the ground feeling the snow start to soak into the material of your trousers. Pulling your bow off of your body and an arrow from the quiver that was strapped to your back. You drew back the string of your bow, holding the arrow steadily in place.

Closing your eyes, you waited. Listening oh so carefully, for anything. The sound of any animal to make itself known to you. A while passed, all you could hear was the soft wind and a nearby steam trickling quietly.

Until the snort of a deer had your eyes shooting open and your weapon aiming at the creature. Exhaling slowly, you let go, the arrow whipping through the air heading straight for the unknowing animal but ultimately hitting a different target. A huge gasp left you as you watched the arrow go straight into the chest of a man, the deer snorted before running off.

You grunted annoyed and dropped everything to run to the injured man. Your eyes set upon his figure. Large and strong, you recon if you’d hit anywhere else on him that’d he probably wouldn’t have collapsed. Probably would have grabbed the end of the arrow with his big sturdy hands and pulled it straight out like nothing happened. Probably.

The realisation started to set in the more you stared at him, you just shot a man. “Oh my, I’m…I’m so sorry!” You panicked falling to your knees next to him where he was on the ground. His blue eyes meeting yours, looking at you as though you were an alien. His nostrils flared as he quietly grunted, feeling the pain begin to spread throughout his chest and body.

“I was hunting and….and you…y-you stepped in front of the deer. I’m so sorry.” Your hands hovers over his injured while your mind began to become frantic with how to proceed. You eyed the expensive leather that graced his bulky figure. Wrapping around every muscle eagerly. The fur cloak that was spread around him, clearly from a hunt.

It did little to hide the tattoos on his arms. Further up chainmail covered his shoulders proving how sharp you’d made your arrows for it to pierce the chainmail that presumably sat below his tunic and leather. You took note of his face better now, thin lips almost covered by a bushy moustache all connected with thick mutton chops and a full, long beard that caught your attention a little too much.

“Are ya’ done ogling me lass?” He gritted his teeth, wrapping his hand around the arrow and yanking it out. He groaned loudly, deep and rough just like his voice when he spoke. It sent shivers through your body in an unholy way. Nothing like you’d ever felt before.

“Are you a royal from the mainland?” You asked, worry underlining your question.

He bellowed at that, “Ne’er erd’ that one before.” His laugh trailed off as he pressed his fingers into his wound and pulled them away watching the blood drip down his hand.

“My bag.” He was gesturing to the bag that lay a few meters over from where he was. You scrambled to grab it, desperately trying to pull it open. The leather satchel was medium size with about a hundred strings tying it shut.

“W-What do you need?” You were stumbling over your words as you took noticed of the blood that was seeping out of his wound and staining the snow beneath him.

The man grabbed your shaky hands in his and whispered “Breathe.” You listened hesitantly, taking a deep breath.

“Y’know I think I’m supposed to be reassuring you.” A breathless laugh leaving you sounding more like a scoff, he let out a chuckle his face scrunching up in pain.

“In the bag, the bottle with the red liquid.” Nodding quickly, you searched through the bag and pulled out the bottle, pulling the cork out with your teeth and looking at him for instructions. He took the glass container and poured it over his wound and drank the rest of it.

You watched as his heavy panting of pain began to level out. He soon sat up and looked at you curiously, “I’ve ne’er seen ye round these parts before.” He states though you’re pretty sure it was a question, you simply shrug and stand up. He followed suit, a shock jolting through you when he stands only to tower over you greatly.

“I, um really am sorry. It truly was an accident.” You wring your hands together before offering one of them to him. He looks surprised and you don’t blame him, you’re sure a woman has never made this gesture to him before.

“Svo fallegt,” he seemed to look over you for a moment then let his large hand wrap itself around yours with a shake, “S’okay.”You nodded letting go of his grip and making your way to pick up your bow and quiver.

“What’s ya name?” He asked suddenly feeling a wave of panic as he watched you walking away from him. You answered, waiting for his in return. “Price. John Price.”

Now where had you heard that name before?

#squishycheekanon #Viking!price #viking #viking King #john price x y/n #captain john price x you #captain johnathan price #captain john price x reader #john price x oc #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price x reader #price smut #price x reader #cod price #captain price #price #captain price x reader smut #captain price smut #captain price x female reader #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #call of duty smut #call of duty #cod fluff #cod smut #cod fanfic #john price x you #price x you

[buckybarnesb-tch]

can you pls do some human viking klaus content🙏

Human!Viking Klaus M. HC’s

Thank you to everyone who gave me recommendations for a name for Klaus’ sword, a lot of them were things from HotD including the Dragons names for some reason but IMO Drogon would be an awesome sword name😆 In the end I took a few words from names given and went with it

•Niklaus is a huge show off for Y/n from the first moment they met as children and it only gets worse as they grow older

•It used to be things like how he was faster than the other boys or stronger, or how much farther he could swim but as they grew he got more and more bold when showing off. He grew into a great swordsman and showed off while dueling Elijah who showed off for Tatia himself, until Mikael came along anyway

•Niklaus always loved to show Y/n his paintings from the time he was a boy and she marveled at them, especially as they got better and better the older they got

•Y/n would often find him different colored flowers when she traveled to other villages with her father, he loved how she thought of him and got a kick out of her bringing him flowers

•Y/n’s parents, Harald and Elli, loved Niklaus and her father was more than happy with the idea of the boy marrying her if he could get the guts to ask for her hand which he eventually did

•His father hated the idea of the two of them together as she was a beautiful girl, untainted, well behaved and the daughter of a strong, rich and important Viking (that Mikael seemed to have a bit of a man crush on). Mikael considered it a waste, Niklaus having her which is why he attempted to get Finn to court Y/n instead, it was a huge relief to both Klaus and Y/n that Finn had absolutely no interest in that

•Niklaus and Finn covered for each other, pretending to be with each others girls so that Niklaus could spend time with Y/n and Finn could be with Sage who both Mikael and Esther hated

•Niklaus loved that his future wife wasn’t the prim and proper Viking girl that everyone seemed to dream of for some strange reason and he found himself entertained when she did unladylike things such as his love tripping Tatia in the village once for flirting with him. According to Y/n she was clear to the beautiful girl about how her face wouldn’t be beautiful much longer if she kept up her flirting with not just Niklaus, but anyone other than Elijah if she was serious about the kind man that Y/n already considered her big brother (Elijah never told her how much it had meant to him but he adored her for it upon realizing that Tatia had stopped flirting with other men that very day)

It was a welcome change from Niklaus constantly ‘staking his claim’ on his girl whenever a new man took a liking to her, though Niklaus knew she loved how jealous her strong Viking man was when it came to any other man so much as looking at her too long

•Niklaus had been trying to find the right time to ask Harald to marry her for a long time, however he was nervous. While he knew that her father liked him, he still had his doubts and worries that he would say “no”, especially if he had spoken to Mikael who Niklaus knew didn’t want him and Y/n together. It wasn’t until Kol told him of one of his friends older brothers who had taken a liking to his girl in the last few weeks now that she was 16 and officially old enough to marry (in her fathers eyes since technically she had been able to marry since she was 12 but both Harald and Elli refused). As soon as Kol had told him of the conversation he had heard between his friend and his older brother Joran, Niklaus was running down the path to Y/n’s home.

‘Niklaus! Where are you off to so quickly, son?’ He hadn’t even had to announce himself, finding Harald outside, sharpening his sword.

‘I was hoping for a word with you sir, if you’ve got a moment?’ He looked up from the blade with a knowing smirk on his face and Niklaus knew, he knew her father knew exactly why he’s here.

‘Of course, my boy. Been waiting quite some time for this conversation, I was sure it was coming. You actually took longer than I expected. Go ahead.’ He couldn’t say he was shocked, Niklaus knew Harald was aware of his feelings but he also knew that Niklaus would never do anything to harm or dishonor his daughter so he didn’t seem to worry about him being around her. Unlike most fathers who would be concerned about idiot boys wanting nothing more than to get under their daughters skirts, Harald knew that Niklaus would never touch his baby girl while they are unwed (at least no more than the hand holding they had already done that had his baby girl blushing up a storm for the rest of the evening after they had parted the first time). Niklaus would never put a stain on her name like the one that Tatia carries around since spreading her legs for a man who abandoned her the moment she learned about the baby. Her father also knew that even if something happened between them, Niklaus would never leave Y/n alone, he could see how much the boy loved his daughter and no matter what happened, that’s all he wanted for his baby girl.

‘Sir…I love your daughter…I love her and I-I want to a-ask you for her h-hand.’ He took a deep breath, trying to calm his stuttering before continuing. ‘I admit, I don’t have much but I can provide for her every day. I will take care of her, and our children, as many as she will give me, I will keep them safe and not a day will go by that your daughter and grandchildren won’t know how much they are loved…I’m asking you to please, allow me to marry your daughter?’

Harald stared back at Niklaus for several long moments before his face broke out into a grin and he turned his head towards his home. ‘Y/n! There’s a man here that’s asked for your hand and I’ve said “yes”! Come meet your husband!’

‘What?! Father! I have told you I-‘ Y/n was cut off as she turned the corner to see her best friend staring back at her with a hopeful look in his eyes as he waited for her reaction. While it is her fathers prerogative to marry her to whoever he chooses, if Y/n didn’t want him then he would, of course, retract his proposal. However it didn’t seem like he needed to as she charged him and leapt up into his arms with a grin and contagious laughter. ‘I didn’t think you would ever do it, I’ve been waiting months!’ She glared, fake anger on her sweet face.

‘My apologies, Princess, I will never make you wait again. You’re all mine now.’

•It was actually later that very same day that Joran came to speak to Y/n’s father only to find Niklaus with his arms wrapped around her as they discussed the feast for their wedding, knowing it needed to be large as the party would probably go on well into the night (whether they were there or not)

•The idiot actually waited until Y/n was alone and tried to sway her from her wedding with Niklaus. He tried making a case that he was his Fathers oldest son while Niklaus was just a middle child, he tried getting her to believe he was the stronger of the two of them and that he could protect her better. Y/n couldn’t be swayed in any way and it wasn’t a moment after he realized that that he found himself sprawled out on the ground with his nose gushing blood and a smirking Niklaus standing over him ‘The next time you come anywhere near my wife, a bloody nose will be the least of your concerns…get out of my sight.’

•Niklaus’ siblings were all very excited about him getting married, especially Rebekah who was thrilled to be about to have a sister. Elijah, Finn and Kol all helped Klaus in building their home for his wife as a wedding gift and his parents were immediately unhappy that their new home was both, bigger than theirs (a home that they had forced 6 children to live in their entire lives) and closer to Y/n’s parents than to them

•From the moment Elli found out Niklaus had asked Harald for her daughters hand she was on his ass about children, ‘Neither of you are getting any younger.’ ‘Her prime child bearing years are right now, so you had best get started, Niklaus.’ ‘I will watch my grand babies all the time, that way you’ll have plenty of time to make me more.’ He loved how excited she was for them to have children but she was behaving like she wanted them yesterday, he can’t even start trying until they’re married but his soon to be mother in law didn’t seem to care, both of Y/n’s parents however adored Niklaus and he was happy for it and enjoyed them treating him better than his own parents ever had

•On the day of their wedding all of their families were in attendance as well as most of the village (who were mostly just there for the feast and drinking). Niklaus watched his bride approach him for the last time as an unmarried women, a wreath of flowers on her head that Rebekah had made for her (with the help of Henrik who picked most of them knowing the small purple flowers were Niklaus’ favorite to paint with) and for the first time without the Kransen that usually adorned her head. He knew she will have saved it, as her mother had done for her, for their future daughter once she was old enough and the thought made his heart swell, making him that much more desperate to fill his wife with his babies

•During the wedding ceremony Niklaus was shocked when Harald presented him with a Long Sword. It was a double edged heavy iron sword inlaid with silver on the handle, the handle was wrapped with soft leather and the pommel was heavy silver with 2 runes carved into it, one for Protection and one for Blessings. Niklaus was stunned by this gift, he had been taught to wield a sword obviously, however the one he had always used was his fathers. Niklaus never thought he would be able to afford a sword like this (a sword that he and Y/n had later decided to call BloodScythe), he had plans to get his own for his family’s protection of course, but this sword is very clearly worth more than he had ever seen in one place.

In that moment, he couldn’t help it, he began to doubt that this marriage was a good idea. Even if he knew the money meant nothing to him, he would have to find a way to keep his father from being a problem and he had never succeeded at that in his own life.

Niklaus had known that Y/n’s father was well off, it was half the reason Mikael hadn’t wanted Niklaus to wed Y/n but rather Finn, who would be much more willing to take care of his parents or even just give them money from the dowry that Harald would pay for her. Niklaus did not yet know how much silver it was that they were getting and while that money was technically Y/n’s even after the wedding, he knew that she would give it to him as the one who handled the money. Mikael was the kind of man who believed that every ounce of silver, gold and piece of jewelry belonged to the man of the house to do with as he pleased, which is why he knew he could manipulate Finn into “letting him handle” Harald’s money from both the dowry and the inheritance once the couple passed since Y/n was their only heir.

Niklaus had a suspicion that that’s the reason Elli was so desperate for him to fill her daughter with babies. Y/n’s mother had nearly died in childbirth and after that Harald forbid her from even trying for more children, not willing to lose his wife when they already had a perfect baby girl, even if that meant never having a son of his own. Niklaus found his respect for Harald growing instantly upon hearing that fact, all men were desperate for a son to pass their name onto, to teach to fight and hunt and even Niklaus himself desperately wanted a son, but Harald loved his wife so much that he was willing to give up on that dream to ensure she did not suffer…it was something that Niklaus knew Mikael would never do, regardless of how many sons he already has.

He had found himself wondering on more than one occasion if he would do the same, if he would give up on having a son, or any more children than one daughter if it’s what he needed to do to save Y/n’s life and he knew he would without a doubt

‘I am giving you my child, she will be under your roof and under your protection. As I give you my daughter I gift you this sword, that you will always care for her, keep her safe and whole, and protect the children she bares you. I am trusting you, Niklaus.’ He was floored by his now father in laws words and he found himself holding the tears back at the idea of Y/n’s father believing in him. The firm look on the man’s face showed Niklaus how serious he was in his words and he knew in that moment he would honor his promise, Niklaus would die if it meant his wife and children were safe, of that he was positive

‘Thank you for your trust. I give you my word, I will love and protect your daughter for the rest of my days. I will use this sword to defend our home, defend her honor and defend our family. I will use it to teach my sons to do the same and I will ensure my children never know a moment of suffering…not at my hands or anyone else’s.’ Niklaus was determined to not be even the slightest bit like his father, he would love his children, as many of them as the Gods see fit to grant and as many as his beautiful wife is gracious enough to bare him.

•As they shared their first kiss he felt his entire body buzzing like lightning. Y/n was finally his, his wife and his future. Niklaus kept her in his arms after their shared kiss, only releasing her to slide the ring onto her finger and allow her to do the same, the bands being a thick and heavy silver with runes adorned around the outside in a repeating pattern of Partnership, Prosperity, Loyalty and Desire. The only difference in their rings was 2 runes on Niklaus’ that meant Protection and Warrior to signify his role in their marriage and lives as were hers on her ring that meant Fertility and New Beginnings.

•Their married life was pure bliss in Niklaus’ eyes, taking the girl he had been in love with since he was a boy back to their home for the first time and carrying her to their new bed had him downright giddy and he spent the rest of the night worshipping her body. He made her cum every which way he could imagine bringing her pleasure, only stopping once the sun came up to sleep for a few hours before feeding his new wife and jumping straight back into bed with her. He shocked her with how willing and determined he was to have her ride his face for almost an entire hour that afternoon before even fucking her again and wrapping them both back into the thick furs to sleep once more. They remained like that for almost 2 weeks, Harald, Elli, Elijah and Kol all bringing them food while Niklaus was determined to ensure his seed took hold inside of his wife as soon as possible, and it did, seemingly almost immediately

•Everyone was excited by the prospect of having a new baby in the family, Y/n’s parents being the most excited and ensuring the couple had everything they would need to care for the baby. Henrik began spending the days with Y/n almost immediately once Niklaus began to work, he knew how much his big brother did not want her to be alone and so he stayed until his brother came home every day. Niklaus had taken to hunting rather than farming to make money, selling his catches in a few different towns to families who couldn’t hunt for whatever reason, and he made fairly decent money doing it which led to him coming home one day to his father man handling his 6 month pregnant wife

He couldn’t tell what came over him in that moment but one second Mikael was clutching his wife’s upper arms tightly and shaking her and the next he was on the ground having his face beaten in. Henrik had seemingly run home upon seeing his father arguing with Y/n and a moment later Elijah was pulling Niklaus off of their father. He turned and inspected his wife immediately, seeing her cheek was bright red and her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

‘I’m alright Niklaus, I promise you-‘

‘And the baby?! Did he touch the baby, I swear to all of the Gods he will die where he stands if he touched my child!’ He swore it to her and Y/n knew he was telling the truth, in fact she knew that had Elijah not come when he did, Mikael would probably already be dead.

‘He is alright my love, your father did not touch anything but my arms and a smack to my face when I insulted him. There’s no need for him to die, not this time.’ Just then Y/n’s parents came running up the path with Niklaus’ youngest brother not far behind, Elli instantly pulling her daughter into her arms and checking her over while Niklaus turned to her father who inspected the scene, seeing Mikael on the ground with Elijah between him and his son in law, Niklaus who had blood covering both of his hands.

‘Good job, son. How is she?’ He asked, never taking his eyes off of Mikael.

‘She’s alright, a few bruises. I am confident that even if I hadn’t come home when I did she would have been alright, my brother got Elijah like he was supposed to. Thank you.’ Henrik hugged Niklaus tightly, enjoying the proud look on his older brothers face as he had always been more of a father than a brother to him, more than his real one at least. ‘Go home now, let mother know everything is alright and that father and Elijah will be home soon.’

‘Alright. Are you okay, Y/n?’ He asked and Y/n smiled at the 13 year old boy.

‘I’m alright, hun. Go on home, Niklaus and I will take you to the market tomorrow and get you something special, okay?’ She offered and his face lit up before turning and taking off towards home as he was told.

‘It’s time for you to leave as well, Father.’ Niklaus glared before his father in law spoke up.

‘The next time you put your hands on my daughter, you will find the entire village at your door, ready to string you up. Remember that before you come back again.’ Harald promised, and Mikael had the intelligence to look concerned about the obvious threat. ‘Get your wife home, son.’

‘I will. Thank you for coming-‘

‘Thank you for keeping your word…I never had any doubt my child would be safe with you. You’re a good man Niklaus, and a good husband.’

•Over the next few years, Y/n had 4 children, giving Niklaus 3 sons and a little girl. He taught all of his boys to hunt and to fight, allowing them to enjoy having fun once in a while unlike what he and his siblings were allowed in their childhoods. Niklaus loved all of his children equally and he kept the promise made on his wedding day, he never raised a hand to them and he never let anyone else either, they never experienced a moment of abuse in their lifetime. His boys were incredible fighters and hunters, and they were extremely protective of their little sister, making their parents prouder than they thought possible. Niklaus didn’t think he could have asked for more

I tried to keep as many Viking traditions as true as I could but I may have gone overboard🤣

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

#vampire #hybrid #tvd klaus #the vampire diaries #the originals #the vampire diares imagine #the originals imagine #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus imagine #klaus imagine #klaus x reader #klaus x y/n #klaus x oc #klaus fic #Klaus Headcanon #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson x oc #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson headcanon #Viking!Klaus Mikaelson #Human!Klaus Mikaelson #human!klaus #Viking!Klaus #human au #vampire imagine #joseph morgan #Viking!Klaus au

[thebadboyfanclub]

She Is A Lady (Ivar x Targaryen Reader)

Ivar has always been such an interesting character to me so imagine how delighted I was when I got my first request for him. Also I would like to announce that I will not be accepting any more requests for daemon Targaryen as of right now cause i have written so many and I have also others that I must write. Enjoy!

Y/n) had always been an adventurous character, ever since she could walk she would wobble away from everyone, curiosity fuelling her little chubby legs, when she got a little older and was able to get on her dragon, Rhaenyras's heart raced as she waited patiently for her daughter to come home.

She was her father's daughter, stubborn, brave, and resilient, “the noble she-dragon” was her title when she would often be referred to in the songs of barbs, she would smirk under her cloak as she would often cover herself to visit the small taverns.

When war called for her (y/n) defended her mother with the fierceness of a dozen warriors, however, the pain of losing her brothers one by one, her dear Daemon who taught her so many things, her grandmother Rhaenys, she could not risk the death of her mother.

“We can still fight dear”

“Mother our troops have fought fiercely for so long, most of our men are dead, we need an alliance”

“What if they kill you?”

“Then I’ll let my brothers know how much you love them and we will be waiting for you, my queen”

Rhaenyra overcomes with emotion fell into her daughters' arms in desperation, her precious little girl was now grown up. (Y/n) hugged her mother back with the same amount of love, she hated the fact that she had to leave her mother's side, but this was their last resort.

Rhaenyra pulled away slightly, her fingers reaching for the few strands of Dark hair that were entangled between her Targaryen silver hair, a small token she had inherited from her late father.

“Promise me you will come back to me”

“I won’t come alone, I’ll come with an army to protect you”

-

(Y/n) had searched for inhabited land beyond the wall for a full day, the sun had been tucked away and replaced by the moon when she noticed a land lit by torches, it would unwise to make a haste landing without a warning first, for all she knew this land could be home for cannibals or demon worshippers.

(Y/n) commanded her dragon to fly a bit lower, circling the city to make her presence known, not only did the people notice her, as they had gathered around for supper to celebrate their victory, they rose from their seats to follow the beast that appeared to make landing a bit further down.

“I am unharmed, well… except the dragon”

“Who are you?”

“Princess (y/n) Targaryen, I come from kings landing”

The men came to a standstill with the princess, both parties waiting for a sudden move so they can “defend” their own, you could only hear the sound of the fire from their torches and their breaths created a mist from the cold.

“I understand this is sudden for you but I have come in peace, I have been traveling on dragon back since dawn, it would be certainly easier for me to explain after I get some type of food if you could be so kind to offer one”

The dim light was not enough to reveal the contraption Ivar was using to stand up on his legs, his eyes piercing through hers in such intensity that (y/n) felt like the man was trying to look into her brain, still she did not waver, she challenged him with her strong look she beheld on those intriguing hues, her flame could be identified from a mile away, this was not a meek princess, she came flying in a beast and stood by it proudly, she was a true warrior sent from the Gods.

“Fine, princess. Leave your sword and dragon here and then you can follow us”

Of course, he knew she was lying, he saw the sword that rested on her hip the minute she got on the ground, intrigued by the astonishing beast she came with he decided to offer her sanctuary.

To his surprise, the princess took out her sword before she came on one knee with it laying flat on her palms.

“This has been given to me by a beloved family member, I do not wish to leave it unattended but I trust you with it, Ser”

“Ivar, Ivar the boneless”

Her face showed exactly how puzzled she was by the nickname the name claimed that he was holding, howbeit she did not have time to question it for long since from the first step Ivar took (y/n) picked up on the metal sound and observed just how stiff his walking as she realized that the man was probably barely able to stand up, his entire weight was supported by a delicates design of metal that went all the way up to his thigh.

Ivar smirked at the sight of the woman offering her sword, she seemed smart enough according to her calculated moves, the sword felt light in his hand as it shined under the moonlight, arrogantly he pointed the tip of the sword directly under her chin, his ego allowing him to consider that he had the upper hand.

(Y/n) gently placed the weapon away from her face and rose to her feet, she had been nothing but gracious she would not allow herself to be disrespected.

“Lead the way, my lord”

She simply suggested, she concealed her facial expression well though the devil was always in the details, Ivar could see her hands forming into fists.

“Welcome to Kattegat princess”

He turned his back on her while she took small steps to stay behind him, she did not want to offend him by walking faster so her pace was slow enough to let him walk.

(Y/n)s eyes traveled around everything, people’s faces, their clothing, their tables, their homes, it seemed like everyone was living a simple life, it reminded her of the roads of kings landing.

Ivar could hear the whispers from his subjects, they were all taken back by Ivars sudden kindness, and they all expected him to kill her on the spot, he had to admit that the idea did go through his head, yet something in him told him to let her join their feast, maybe it was the fearsome dragon, maybe her alluring appearance.

Alas, (y/n) took a seat next to him, and quite swiftly the servants gave her a plate full of food and a goblet with ale, the chicken was warm and the ale did the trick of warming her up as everyone danced around the fire, a faint smile played on her lips while Ivar observed her.

“So what brings you here princess?”

“War I am afraid”

“War?”

“In my homeland, we have one king that rules over the land, my family has been been in that position for over a century, yet it is the very first time that a woman-my mother- is to assume authority, that did not go well with her half brother”

“So you ran?”

“I certainly have not, my brothers were killed, my stepfather, my grandmother… all gone”

Ivar felt sadness rush through his chest at how the princess's chin quivered, her hushed tone trembling as she uttered the last two words, her doe eyes misting in the firelight, Ivar was not known for his empathy, still, he reached for her hand under the table to give it a slight squeeze.

“My mother was killed by my father's first wife, she released an arrow while my mother was walking away”

“How did you respond?”

“Oh I’ve tried to kill her several times”

“It is quite macabre, how the family is always the one that causes the biggest pain”

“I suppose, if you are not running then what brought you here?”

“Desperation, countless battles have taken most of our men, I was hoping to look for allies”

“You described it perfectly, desperation is the only thing that could make someone believe that another army of men would come to die for you”

“My mother is all I have left, wouldn’t you do anything to bring your own back to life?”

“Definitely”

“It might sound cruel but forgive me for saying I do not crave to understand your pain”

She was honest Ivar gave (y/n) that much, they sat there gawking at one another, she stood tall, she did not waver under his eyes as most people did, she showed no signs of fear, she did not care about anything, and let’s not even start of how ambitious she appeared to be.

Ivar took a swig of his ale without looking away from those distinguish violet hues, he recalled how the prophets have whispered to him of a queen of a faraway land.

“Your queen will help you fly amongst the clouds, you’ll know lands beyond the eye”

He had brushed it off as a riddle, but now he started to understand that it was the only time the prophet meant every word, could she- princess (y/n) Targaryen- be his queen?

There, for only the briefest moment and for the first time he felt the warm sensation of his heart thumping at the mere sight of her smile, like Freya had come from the clouds to place her cloak around the two youngsters. For so long Ivar had brushed off the idea of love or marriage, sometimes he would even the joke that the goddess herself has cursed him or turned his back on him, cruelly denying him the blessing of a true loves match.

“I cannot throw my men to a war over lands I know nothing about”

“I figure that we will ride tomorrow”

“Ride?”

“We can strap you up on Daylight and you will be safe as a passenger”

“You mean I go up in that?”

“Hey, she is a lady”

Ivar cackled at her correction regarding her dragon. It had been a while since one was so casual with him, that treated him with kindness without fearing his outbursts, sure her ignorance of not exactly knowing his antics had something to do with it, albeit Ivar thoroughly enjoyed her presence, her wit and pride complimented her.

As (y/n) bit her bottom lip her gaze went over to his legs, she wanted to ask as silence overtook them, but she debated if it was the right decision.

“It’s not an injury, I was never able to walk”

“Brittle bones, the masters in my land had informed me of such condition. Back in the day, they used to kill babes that seemed to hold such an illness”

“Oh that is what happens here as well, my mother forbade it”

“She sounds like a lovely woman”

“She was”

(Y/n) could deeply empathize with the look that took over Ivars handsome face, how his expression clouded for just a moment, how his jaw tensed and his lips stiffened to a thin line, she could tell that Ivar was not looking at anyone particularly, he was reminiscing as moments that they shared passed through his ice blue hues.

Ivar was pulled back to reality by her gentle hand resting on his thing, usually, he would shove away anyone that dared to touch his legs, but surprisingly he just allowed his hand to find hers and rest on top of it, a part of him yearning for the warmth of her touch, her genuine interest and zest.

“I am certain she is very proud of you, I understand you two probably shared a very close bond”

“We did, but let’s not dwell on such events, you must rest I do not want the rider of such a large beast to fall asleep while they hold my life in the reigns of a dragon”

They smiled at one another, a grin that behind it was resting countless words left unsaid. Ivar was a stranger to the goodwill of people, although with her, as his eyes rested upon her features he felt like his anger vanished, like a wave that held her name washed through his experience with cruelty and even his brothers belittling him was now gone.

“This feels strange”

“I agree princess, but I do not want it to go away”

“Me neither”

She whispered, her eyes lowering down to the ground to avoid the foreign sensation that was Ivars presence. Ivar allowed her to retreat, as he looked around it dawned on him that a few of the others had also taken it to become viewers of their encounter, he could not blame them.

With some difficulty he rose from his seat with the goblet of Ale in his hand, demanding the attention of everyone to realign with their leader.

“It is with great honor that I present to you the princess (y/n) Targaryen, the future queen of her land, she has come to us with a request for an alliance, to fight alongside her army for a land we do not know. Tomorrow I will ride with the princess to see for myself that foreign land, as well as to marry her”

“What?”

“To unite our kingdoms, to rule by her side in her homeland and for her to rule by my side in mine, to give us a reason to help her. Raise your glass, to your future queen”

Requests are open!

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[lavender-romancer]

Winter

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader CW: suicide mentions, conflict

You wanted to be his again, not owned by him but a part of him. But it had been so long since you'd felt close to Ivar that it felt out of reach as he descended into rage filled madness

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

You were drifting apart more and more with every hastily made decision fueled by anger that Ivar made. He would curse you, berate you and you could do anything because you didn't trust that he wouldn't kill you himself. You knew something was deathly wrong when you kept finding yourself high on a hill looking over a rock face, moving closer to the edge every time and not feeling afraid. It was impossible to not feel that you were lost in the dark of Ivar's tyranny. But you still craved his adoration, his love and the affirmation that he only wanted you. All of these things would never happen now, you weren't good enough for him.

You needed him running through your veins like a sickness that couldn't be cured- a toxicity that fuelled your love and in turn, your hatred for him. You didn't want to need anyone, when you were younger your mother had always taught you to never need anyone more than yourself. To stay self-reliant and not let anyone control you but, it was impossible. When you met Ivar he was the son of Ragnar, a grumpy boy with no battle experience and a soft spot for you. Now, after 6 years of marriage you couldn't decide if you needed to try harder or just throw yourself on to that cliff face.

"It feels like he's trying to erase me, fade me out of his life and forget I was ever there." You told Helga as you sat descaling some fish with her.

"Ivar is… complicated, I'm sure I had this conversation with you when you started seeing him. He's a different type of person from us. Not as emotional," she tried to smile but could tell that her words weren't necessarily comforting.

"I was so convinced that he loved me then, that he would do anything for me. But he just wants power and money and meaningless sex, I just can't believe he deceived me into this marriage." Helga suddenly gripped your hand.

"This is not your fault. As you said, you were deceived by someone who claimed to love you. The boy has some kind of power. It pulls some people in and I don't know what it is but it captured you," She paused. "I think you should tell him."

"He wouldn't even see me, I can guarantee there's a thrall rooted to his lap right now." You clenched your teeth together and tried to hold in your rage.

"You need to let it out, your rage. Go to the top of a mountain and scream, allow yourself to feel it." Helga suggested and you nodded.

"What I really want is to have him, it's pathetic but I'm so in love with him it's hard to overcome." You placed down the fish and groaned.

"It will pass, and if it doesn't, meet someone else who will be more emotionally attentive. Ivar seems like the kind of man who needs other people's feelings laid out in front of him." Helga smiled and her dark rimmed eyes made contact with you as the two of you carried on with the fish.

Ivar was drunk out of his mind, two naked thralls sitting on his lap as he'd occasionally take their breasts into his mouth. Some days he would forget you were even his wife, you hardly saw each other. He wouldn't say it was an excuse for his behavior but it was definitely a promoting factor of it. You used to smother him, cover him in a blanket of affection and make him feel like no one could hurt him. Ivar didn't remember when that stopped but he also didn't remember when he began sleeping with other women. The crossover between the two was so seamless it made him feel less remorseful, as if your absence made his actions warranted.

When Ivar saw you walk into the Great hall he felt less than he thought he would. In some ways he was happy to see how miserable you looked, hopeful you'd come crawling back to him in pure adoration. Ivar couldn't think of a better way to gain a woman's affection than by making her jealous. Unaware of his ridiculous thought process, Ivar continued looking you up and down through his eyebrows. You could only glare back at him as you headed towards your room, but you annoyingly had to go past Ivar.

"You despise me, wife?" Ivar asked and you stopped in your tracks, sighing deeply.

"Yes." You said simply, even though you loved him you needed him to wake up.

"But… that's not. What?" He said confused, pushing the thralls to the floor, with a resounding yelp from both the women.

"What do you want, Ivar?" You looked at him with such disdain it genuinely surprised him.

"You cannot speak to me like that!" He yelled and you sighed again.

"Then kill me." You sounded defeated, you didn't care anymore. It would be easier for it to all be over so you didn't have to deal with the emotional turmoil of him.

"I'm not going-" he paused. "You are my wife! Why won't you respect me?" He yelled again and you almost winced at the level of noise he was making.

For a few moments all you could hear was the scrape of his crutch and the crackle of the fire, for a moment it felt surprisingly peaceful. You just wanted to exist in that scene, a beautiful fire with furs on the floor in front of it where the local children would sit and be told stories. There was such a serenity to watching children's faces as they listened to a story, they hadn't experienced the hurt or the pain. All they knew was that this was their favourite day because they could sit inside the great hall and feel important. Even Ivar couldn't take that sense of pride away from them.

"Are you going to say anything, wife?" Ivar broke the blissful silence and you couldn't quite believe how aggravating it all was.

"I hate you, I hate what you've done to me." Was all you said and he looked astonished.

"I won't have this bullshit!" He yelled even louder before calling for his guards. "Tie her to a tree in the forest." He swatted you away like you were a pest but, at this point you saw no reason to resist. Ivar would do whatever he wanted with his power and most of the time that would mean fucking you around.

Even the guards were uncomfortable as they threw a rope over a strong tree branch and tied you by your wrists so that your arms always had to be extended. It wasn't the worst punishment you could have got, you were surprised Ivar hadn't got a lust for blood when you disrespected him. He would continue to degrade you and debase you no matter what you did, even though you loved him it didn't matter anymore. Ivar was so consumed by greed or power or hatred for you that he couldn't focus on anything else.

Your heart felt cold and tight. There wasn't any room for any more love because you had given it all away to someone who didn't want it or didn't realise how much he needed it. In one breath you would hope that he would just come and kill you and in the other, you still hoped he would wait for you. That he would allow your coupling to at least attempt to survive. Sometimes when you were around Ivar, you would feel a tiny part of your body decompose. One part of you died because you couldn't hold on to someone who only wanted to break away from you. But all you wanted was to be taken back to when you were younger, you needed him, you wanted him and he would never be what he was again.

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson x oc #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar ragnarsson imagine #ivar ragnarsson angst #vikings ivar #viking imagine #vikings fanfic

[miss-madness67]

It Is You (Ivar The Boneless)

Ivar the Boneless drabble

Imagine you are the one that catches Ivar's eyes, not Freydis.

The crowd is overly excited by the army’s return to Kattegat, they had finally avenged the death of Ragnar Lothbrok. I had not taken long to recruit the great heathen army, and less to decimate the Saxons. Most of the hassle had been travel discrepancies and what to do after. Now with all that finally over, Vikings have a chance to celebrate victory. It is no surprise, then, when the great hall is completely packed with drunk people in the late hours of the night. The celebration of the great heathen army’s conquest is something to brag about, and Ivar the Boneless is doing precisely that.

You have never seen the Viking prince in person, considering that you are not a shieldmaiden, and could not go to avenge Ragnar. Also, you grew up in Ringerike, not Kattegat, thus you never encountered him during your childhood. You have heard the stories, though, not only the most recent ones about his victory against the Saxons, but also those speaking of his cruelty and quick temper. And so when you came to welcome your brother back from fighting in England, it was not in your plan to cross paths with Ivar the Boneless. However, once you entered the great hall, your destiny was entangled with his.

He is not the only man that stares at you more than he should, but his gaze is so intense that you can not shake it off. It burns through your skin like fire, stealing all of your attention from your brother’s words. When you look up, Ivar is already glancing your way. He does not smile or try to approach you like the rest of the men, he just stares.  His look is heated but not loaded with anger, it is something else. No one has ever gazed at you like that, it has such desire and amazement. It makes you feel like a goddess. So, while your brother is still talking, you leave his side to introduce yourself to the cruel prince. That is the first step that changes your life.

Tags: @cdauni @justsomecreaturewandering

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar vikings #ivar imagine #ivar fic #vikings #vikings fic #vikings imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar fluff #ivar x oc #vikings fluff #ivar ragnarsson x reader #vikings one shot #ivar ragnarsson x ofc #ivar lothbrok x reader #vikings drabble

[mrsalwayswrite]

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

#mz writes #to call forth love #vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #ivar x oc #ivar the boneless #vikings ivar #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #modern ivar #modern!ivar x oc #ivar the boneless x oc #ivar romance #hvitserk vikings #hvitserk lothbrok #bjorn ragnarsson #ragnar lothbrok #ragnar #lagertha

[ritual-unions]

Gatekeeper

Pairing: Ubbe x OFC

Warnings: NSFW, explicit

Word count: 4k

Setting: season 6ish, Kattegat

Summary: Ubbe is forced to punish his Sami consort when she mistakenly reveals the secret entrance into Kattegat to the enemy.

Also known as sex-on-a-throne cause I can.

Notes: I had to let this live somewhere other than Ao3, enjoy. This was all the fault of the follow gif, my mind went straight to the gutter.

He did not want to do it like this. To pass judgment on her in front of so many people. Now he was being forced to address the situation immediately when he would have preferred to do it in the privacy of their room.

Hvitserk was mostly to blame for it.

His brother should have known better than to bring her before him so publicly, but Hvitserk had never known patience. Especially not when the drums of battle were so close at hand.

There were few people in the great hall. Warriors made their reports while thralls and maids scurried back and forth from the kitchen as they tried to keep bellies full and fires stoked. Laughter rippled through the hall when a thrall tripped a clay cup clattering to the floor. In a corner, where a group of men lounged, an arm wrestling match was in the works. Anything to distract from the crusade that waited outside the gates. They were searching for someone bold enough to test their beefy-armed contender. Goading a man into joining as he walked passed.

Ubbe sat on top of the throne, listening, watching, waiting until the time for action came. Leaning back, he mulled over the different outcomes of the battle as he shifted on the throne���s hard seat, having already lost and won a thousand battles by the time the sun had set. Soon it would be time to retire for the night. He longed to ease against the feather pillows that littered his bed, in the hopes it would relieve his aching back, though he did not imagine sleep would come easy for him.

As they came through the doors he caught sight of her hair first. A glowing white that cast an aura around her wherever she went. Even on the darkest winter days he could find her. He sat up a little straighter. Grimaced at her disheveled state.

They had bound her hands, which Ubbe deemed an unnecessary gesture. She was no shieldmaiden, as she could hardly hold a fishing spear without maiming herself or others. Yet, the purple bruise forming on the corner of Hvitserk’s lip and the angry red scratches across his cheek showed she had not gone without a fight.

Her defiance had seemingly sparked a deep-seated habit out of Hvitserk that Ubbe typically witnessed on the battlefield. Berserkr. That wild glint in his eye and the bemused smile on his lips all signaled Hvitserk’s insensible state as he dragged her before Ubbe.

A heavy sigh pushed out of Ubbe’s nose when she ripped her arm out of Hvitserk’s grip and turned on her heel to snarl at him. Laughter bubbled out of his brother’s throat while he reached for her again. Fingers digging into her arms he spun her to face Ubbe effortlessly. Amusement tickled Hvitserk’s mouth when she struggled against his excessive force.

He didn’t know whose name to call out. Both wore the matching look of a petulant child.

“Ver.”

Her name was thick on his tongue. The nickname was reserved for the quiet moments hidden away under the covers of the bed. She sneered at him, and turned her ire to Hvitserk instead.

“Let go of me,” hissed Verdandi over her shoulder, “you oaf!”

She shook as she all but growled. Attempting to thrash her weight back against him, hoping to throw him off balance. All to his brother’s amusement. Cracking laughter shot out of Hvitserk’s throat. He was enjoying her struggle a little too much. Quick as a viper he pulled her in closer, just to annoy her that much more. His arm wrapped around her chest holding her flush against him. A grin curled on Hvitserk’s mouth as their cheeks touched.

“Hvitserk,” Ubbe called out his name in a low warning.

He did not need this situation any more heightened than it already was. Bright green eyes briefly met him. No longer were they irritated by the incursion of drugs and alcohol. These days, Hvitserk wore the blessing of the gods that often moved him into a different kind of altered state. Ubbe had yet to understand the change.

“Release her,” he commanded, running a hand along his face.

He would never hear the end of this.

A smile tickled the corner of Hvitserk’s mouth. Of course he was laughing silently at him. Ubbe would have his hands full with her. With a brief bow of his head, he snapped the ties with a swipe of his knife. He stepped back in a hurry as if he was trying to get away from the wildling before she attacked.

Deliberately she assessed the red welts where the ties had rubbed her skin raw. Rubbing her wrists tenderly before lifting her gaze to Ubbe. “I did nothing wrong,” she said evenly as if there was nothing more to be discussed.

Teeth clenched, he shook his head. He was well in his right to be upset with her. He had warned her not to go the night before. Telling her that if she did not listen he would not be held responsible for the results of her behavior.

“You disobeyed me, Verdandi.”

“He is my brother.”

It was a plea to reason, especially when her eyes darted to Hvitserk. What would you do for this brother, she silently demanded.

He licked his lips. Anything. For Hvitserk. Bjorn. Even Sigurd, long passed. Ivar, however, was a different matter.

“What did he say?”

A shake of her head, so small he might not have seen it if he had not known her every mannerism by heart. Her eyes were cast to the ground. It seemed her older brother had not changed.

“Torfinn will not see reason.”

His mouth twitched in agitation. Negotiations had long since passed. Torfinn craved violence. As volatile as Ivar, he would not listen to his sniveling younger sister when she begged him to go home.

“He said he will burn down the hall.” She scowled at the thought of her brother. “With you in it.”

“Yes,” he sneered.

No doubt Torfinn believed such claims. He, however, believed in his own preparations. He trusted the walls Lagertha had raised and Ivar had strengthened. Most of all, he relied on his warriors and shieldmaidens whose love for Kattegat ran as deep as his family’s roots.

“He followed her.” Torvi announced, half hidden by a pillar. She had slipped through the doors quietly enough that he hadn’t noticed her presence until she spoke. “He followed her right to The Tree.”

The willow tree that marked the hidden entrance through the city’s walls.

He licked his lips to keep himself from lashing out. She had put them all in danger with her secret sleuthing. It had not truly mattered that she hadn’t listened to him when he had warned her not to go to her brother. He had forbidden her to go because he did not want to witness her pain afterward when she realized her attempt at discourse was a fool’s errand. In hindsight, he should have let her go to Torfinn with armed guards or an escort.

He could not worry about what he should have done. He had to focus on the now. How to fix the problem at hand. And how to properly deal with her folly. This was no longer just about him. It involved all of Kattegat, and he would have to act accordingly.

He found Hvitserk’s gaze for confirmation. A slight nod of his brother’s head was all he needed. He gritted his teeth as he considered his next action.

Torvi was quick to the draw. She whipped across the room and shoved at Verdandi’s back, causing her to stumble. A childish gesture. His gritted teeth pulled into a snarl, fingers curling around the armrest.

A few of the onlookers gasped, but the other half appeared pleased. They had not collectively accepted her presence, especially now that her brother threatened their livelihoods.

“On your knees.” He could barely hear Torvi above the rising murmuring of the crowd. She had pushed Verdandi off-center to the ground, but Verdandi did not fight her. She lowered her head at Torvi’s next words instead. “Don’t you know where your place is?”

An onlooker spit, his cud barely missing Verdandi’s feet. “Sami scum,” the man cursed.

Ubbe blew out the heat of his anger through his nose. It was growing more difficult with each moment that passed to stay impartial.

“Torvi.”

He said her name once, low, the only warning she would get. She was his sister by marriage, queen when his brother sat the throne. He would not let her have her say now, not today. He would not allow her to treat the people he had promised to protect so cruelly. Verdandi had lived in Kattegat with the Sami longer than she had and was deserving of a proper trial.

“Take men to secure the area.” Ubbe nodded to Hvitserk, ignoring the insolent townsman who sneered at Verdandi.

“Leave,” he added, looking at Torvi who seemed to be contemplating further provocation. Annoyance passed over her features, but she said nothing as she left the hall. The heels of her shoes against the wooden floorboards formed the only sound in the sudden silence. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Everyone.”

The silence deepened further.

He sat back in his seat. The corners of his nose twitched when no one moved. He raised his chin to assess the crowd. If anyone had anything to say against his order, let them say it now.

A slight shifting stirred the crowd when no one protested and slowly they removed themselves from the hall. Even the guards and thralls had left.

They were alone.

“Ubbe,” she breathed in a sigh of relief, shifting back on her heels to stand.

“No.” He pointed to the ground, back to her position. “You will stay.”

He was bitter. She had disobeyed him. Openly. For all to see.

He had asked her not to go. And then there had been that damn glint in her eyes, that same one that sparked in his brothers any time he tried to lead their hand. After they had supper, he had told her not to go.

No, he had commanded it. As king.

Pseudo king, she had shrugged her shoulders in indifference. Bjorn had been gone for over a year, sailing across oceans only the gods knew the names to. There was no promise he would return.

He would have chained her to the bedpost had he not been certain she would howl like a banshee the entire night.

“I had no choice.”

He grimaced, shaking his head. Every free man and woman had a choice. He sat on this throne for his brother, not because he had to but because he had chosen to. He could be sailing to this Iceland Floki spoke of, or to grander places yet uncovered, but he had chosen to put Kattegat’s needs above his own. He would suffer the results of his decision.

She had chosen to disobey him.

Nodding at her, he asked, “what will your punishment be?” He rolled his eyes as her mouth snapped open, attempting to talk back and say something coy that would only further annoy him. Now was not her moment to speak. “You put the lives of others at risk with your choices. They are my responsibility.” Pointing at her, he finished a little more sternly. “You won’t leave this hall until we agree on a suitable punishment.”

A scowl furrowed her brows while her lips pouted in obvious protest. It stirred him, just slightly so that he was forced to adjust his seat.

Her brow raised in his direction, looking at him the same way she had a hundred nights before. The same look with which she had pleaded for his forgiveness the time they had escaped the drudges of Kattegat for the hunting cabin, high up on the mountains. She had scared away every animal he had attempted to hunt with her incessant singing. Songs that reminded him of his childhood and made him think of his future had alerted any deer or turkey in the surrounding area of their presence. That night they ate a sad collection of wild vegetables he had found on the long walk back to the cabin and by luck a small hare, whose den he had accidentally stumbled across. She had come to him, eyes soft and pleading, begging for forgiveness. Naked and wet and willing to do anything to gain his absolution. She had whispered praise in his ear while the hearthfire crackled beyond her and the wind howled with an oncoming storm. Even now, as he thought back to it, he could still feel the heat on his thighs as she lowered herself down on him. His nostrils still filled with the smell of rain as it seeped into the earth and through the cracks in the walls of the old cabin.

The look on her face was smug. She always got what she wanted. A smile curled onto his lips at the thought. They could come to an agreement, one made between lovers, but not until she suffered first.

She moved to stand.

He grunted, flicking his chin. Crawl, he mouthed, pointing to the space before him.

She frowned but sank back to the ground, crawling to him until she was snug between his legs. Eyes searching, she waited for his next command.

He might have left her there, situated perfectly between his legs, begging for him to make the next move.

Fingers strumming across the armrest, he settled at the sight before him. He had never possessed restraint when it came to his desire for her. Stretching out, he rolled his hips towards her. Lashes fluttering, she took in his growing bulge before her eyes traveled up to meet his gaze. He almost came undone then. His mouth twitched as he tried to control his baser instincts, fighting against the urge to grab the back of her neck and bury her face in his crotch.

Timidly she reached out and let her hands run along his thighs. She kept her gaze trained on his, waiting for him to stop her. To call it all off. Undoubtedly she thought that the people of Kattegat could demand entrance back into the great hall to see how their king punished a Sami traitor.

He knew the townspeople had all gone home. Home to protect their families and the houses they had built from the ground up, kept now for generations. Home to ready their defenses against a possible attack. Now was the time to kiss their loved ones. Tomorrow, if they survived, would be a moment to question what had happened to the traitor.

For a moment he would let fear move her toward him, until she too knew what it meant to make sacrifices that were beyond basic wants.

He said nothing, watching as her fingers fumbled over the laces of his pants. Tugging the strings loose, his cock sprung free.

She gripped him around the base in a practiced motion, sliding along the length. He groaned, letting his head roll back slightly.

Warm lips replaced her grasp on him. She swallowed him whole, lips soft around the root. Hot breath through her nose stirred the pubic hairs at his base. Patiently she tried to find her threshold until she gagged. He smoothed a hand down the crown of her head. Slowly she moved back to the tip, licking and slurping all the way up.

His fingers curled tight in her hair as she lowered herself again, this time going a little deeper. Her gaze caught on him. She smiled around his cock when she added a hand, lightly tugging on his balls.

“You’re going to be,” his teeth clenched as he worked his jaw, “the death of me,” he murmured as he pressed her head back down.

Verdandi hummed happily, thrumming a vibration that tightened his core. He let her stay between his legs for a moment longer, catching his breath as he grew used to the sensation and set her pace for her.

“You’d like that?” Threading his thumb around her ear down to her chin, he tilted her head back. She smiled lazily, lips swollen and red, and nodded. His eyes fluttered closed briefly and then he tugged on her elbow, pulling her up decisively. “Not until I make you scream.”

Lifting up her skirts, she straddled his lap. Her nipples were hard beneath her bodice. Ubbe wanted to see her, feel her fully. He found the laces at the back of her dress, ripping at them until he was able to pull the fabric down her shoulders.

Wiggling out the sleeves of her dress, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her hips rolled on top of his, letting him brush against her dripping folds. His fingers dug into her fleshy sides while he urged her to settle on top of him. Rolling his eyes, he let out a huff of breath as she ground deeper against him and let her weight tease him instead.

His hands slipped between her thighs, coaxing her forward with a passing swipe. She faltered at the sensation and he took the moment to grab the base of his cock, aligning himself to her entrance.

She eased herself down slowly, taking her time. He grunted in frustration. The only punishment occuring was the slow wait to fully engorge. He pushed away the bulk of her skirts, wanting to witness Ver as she stretched across him. Kneading the inside of her thigh, he encouraged her down further.

Her breathing hitched and she leaned forward. Resting against her head against his, she adjusted. He growled, no longer able to wait. He gripped her hips tight and rolled his pelvis upward, watching as she gasped and then bit down on her lip to stop her shuddering breath.

He reached out as she gradually took up the pace, brushing against the lines of her collarbone and then across her sternum. The weight of her breast in his hand was comforting enough to make Ubbe forget his duty, lost in the depth of her body, focusing on nothing other than the way she rode him and swayed into his touch. His fingers brushed across the surface of her nipple. He relished how her lips parted in a soft sigh. He pinched and tugged, watching each twitch and tremor of her mouth as he played with her.

Ver had found her rhythm despite his distracting touch. Slow and steady she rocked her hips against his. Gritting his teeth, he buried his head in her shoulder.

She pushed away her skirts so that she was able to find her clit. Ubbe grunted, replacing her hand with his own. He would be the one who dished out her pleasure.

She tightened around him as he brushed the swollen nub with his thumb. She moaned, a pathetic mewling sound. The first sign of her impending release, but he would hold it all in the palm of his hand. He would give and take as he saw fit. The same way she had seen fit to disobey his orders. Ubbe would watch her tremble under his touch. Her orgasm would be his own. He would make sure of that.

Gasping, she buried her head in the crook of his shoulder, breathing out the heat of her pleasure.

His free hand smoothed across the expanse of her thigh and curved around her ass. He brought her in closer. His arm wrapped around her waist, needing to feel her body flush against his. Her pace was faltering with each ruthless slide across her clit, but he held her steady. Flicking up his hips, taking control, he would have her whimpering by the time he was done with her.

She clawed at his shirt, mewling softly in his ear. “Please,” she begged him.

He grunted. He shouldn’t let her beg and take away the one thing he could control. Yet she pressed closer against his chest. Ubbe grimaced at the way her folds hugged him and claimed him deeper inside her. He had no control when it came to her.

He teased her a bit more, easing his touch until it was light as a feather.

“Ubbe,” she sobbed, breath hot against his ear. “Please.”

It was mostly silent in the throne room, aside from the sound of the crackling hearth fires and the occasional clatter from the kitchen far off. The heat of their bodies poured out into each other. They huffed hot breaths against the other’s skin, careful not to draw any extra attention from the thralls that were certainly standing with their ears to the door or a stray resident curious to see how their king punished the Sami stranger.

His finger curled up her neck, carding through her hair. He tugged until her neck stretched and he could look her in the eyes, locking her there as he drank her in. She was tantalizing. A sheen of sweat radiated the roundness of her cheeks, while the fires in the sconces cast a glow around her head that was otherworldly. The well-built defensive she often kept hard in her eyes slipped to a look so salacious he could not look away. She was meant to sit on a throne, next to him.

He would have fucked her on that seat every day until he was sure she was satiated.

He dug his fingers deeper into her fleshy bottom, bringing her closer, deeper than before.

“Please.” She nipped at his lips and drew him back to the room. “My king.”

He laughed under his breath, head rolling back against the headboard of the throne. His mouth quirked into a smile. Flicking his hips into her, he keenly touched her clit until she was gasping and clutching onto his shirt. A fierce blush crept up her chest and neck. Shamelessly he watched each shuttering breath out of her parted lips, enjoying her undoing by his hand.

Her folds tightened around him. A fluttering pulse. His fingers wrapped around her neck. Her skin was hot and clammy under his touch. Her long thick hair curled wildly around his hold. He kept her tight in her place as he held off, waiting until he saw that peak glimmer across her features. One last thrust. He pulled on her hair, wanting to see her face as she rode the waves of her orgasm. A shuttering jolt of his hips answered her. He locked her flush against him as his hot seed spurted into her womb.

Panting, he caught his breath then found her mouth, kissing her hard. He relished the taste of her and how she nuzzled her cheek against his. Untangling his hand from her hair, he ran it across the back of her head. He pulled her in until she was nestled into the corner of his neck, as if she had always belonged here, safely tucked away in this warm spot. Her lips pressed a smiling kiss against his neck and then to his cheek. She stole another quick kiss against his lips before rolling off his softening length.

He adjusted himself back into his trousers, watching languidly as she pulled the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders. He stood and helped her tighten the ties of her dress along her back. It was a slow process, as his earlier urgency had pulled some loose from their fastenings. Pressing his lips against the curve of her neck, he murmured that he would see her some time later that night.

“Where are you going?” She demanded.

“To see what damage you have done,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped down the dais. He turned to drink her in, a vision standing amongst the matching thrones. He smiled, adding on, “to see if your punishment was sufficient.”

Ubbe laughed under his breath at her scoff. “We will find out in the morning if I have to bend you over my knee next time.”

****

masterlist to see almost everything I have written

#vikings fanfiction #ubbe x oc #ubbe fanfiction #vikings history channel #vikings #vikings fandom #ubbe smut #vikings smut

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Could you do one where the reader is Lagertha younger sister and in a relationship with ivar the boneless

this. this is the one I might be the most excited for to write!

Thank you for your request :)

May the gods forbid.

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: Language probably?

Words: 2.425

This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was. He wasn't supposed to happen. The gods were playing tricks on her, this couldn't be real. She wanted to hate him, hate how he despised her sister. He was a smartass, an arrogant little boy with anger issues if something didn't go his way.

One son of Ragnar was her greatest fear for her younger sister. Ivar. He was unpredictable and even though the girl was taught how to fight, Lagertha knew that she would not be good enough to protect herself from him. That was the main reason why Lagrtha forbid her sister to leave her side. Lagertha was always very protective of her, even more when the sons of Aslaug and Ragnar started planning to kill her or hurt her the same way she hurt them by killing their mother.

So one night when the girl was upset and searched for a place to hide away, she walked into the woods. Flokis and Helgas place always brought her the most comfort when her and Lagertha fought, those were the times she thought the girl was quietly in her chamber. Sitting down in a small meadow, she leaned back, watching the stars, inhaling the fresh air.

Rustling behind her made her hand quickly shoot to the dagger she kept on her thigh. "Well don't you look cozy." The cold voice of the prince made her flinch as she sat up completely, her body being on alert if he tried anything. "What do you want, Ivar?" The exhaustion from was as clear in her voice and how she said his name as it was on her face. She didn't want to live like this. To live a life that held nothing for her, since she wasn't allowed to do much. Even her nephew Björn was always watching over her when he was here.

Tilting his head Ivar studied her face for a second before crawling over to her and settling down besides her. "I decided I won't kill you." He pursed his lips looking over at her a playful glint in his eyes. "Not yet at least." A small smile pulled at her lips as she averted her face. "Ubbe told us about how Lagertha screamed at you. She was always quiet..." A stern glare from the girl made the boy hold his hands up in defense, a small smirk on his face as he saw her hand moving away from the dagger, finally starting to relax.

Ivar was a simple man, his plan to kill Lagertha was only left uncompleted due to his attraction to her little sister and now having her here in front of him was something he didn't know he longed for. Looking back up at the sky she sighed in frustration. "How is the world out there? You traveled didn't you?" Sitting up straight she turned to him.

The young princes eyebrows raised in surprise as he smiled slightly. "The world is huge, it has so much to see." pouting slightly the girl cursed her sister as she listened to Ivars stories. He told her all about Wessex and the people there, how different their belief are from theirs, which she as well found hilarious. As the night turned colder they took the path back to their home. Not once did they stop talking about what he saw out there and what she would want to see once she'll get out there.

"Gods, I want to see the world, Ivar." Smiling softly she twirled and inhaled the fresh air. Watching her Ivar felt his heart swell at the sight of her carefreeness. "I want to show it to you." His tone was serious and when she looked at him she saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Ivar..." Her voice was a mere whisper, shaking her head she sat down in the dirt near a haystack.

"We can't. Lagertha would never allow this. She wouldn't allow us, Ivar..." She was desperate for him to understand that this would never happen, but he was not having any of it. He would take what he want and if he wanted to have her, then he was going to have her. "Your sister does not control you, nor does anyone else. You should be able to live your life how you want it to be, the gods forbid that you won't live it to the fullest."

Looking around she kissed his cheek quickly. "I'll meet with you in the meadow tomorrow night, don't be late!" She turned around as she quickly ran to her chambers, smiling brightly at him before entering. The young prince couldn't help but grin at her actions, feeling a little giddy himself.

After that night they started sneaking around at night, only sharing small meaningful glances at each other when they passed one another or during a feast. Soon Lagertha grew suspicious, but not because she noticed any of the glances, no, it was because suddenly her sister started training more, stopped questioning her about being able to travel. It was as if she suddenly stopped caring about all that.

Ubbe offered to train with her, Lagertha trusted him so she allowed him to take her sister to the woods during the day as well. Ivar told his brothers about her and how he wanted to see her at any costs as much as he could. In the woods the four of them would train, Ivar didn't trust Sigurd close to her, due to disgusting glances he threw her way when she was merely visiting them over the past years.

She soon found herself growing closer to the brothers and feeling accepted by them. Freedom, was so close she could almost taste it. Walking with Ivar at night was her newly found escape, after he got his greave done for his legs and fixed up his crutches they could even hold hands while walking. Him rubbing her hand soothingly with his thumb, placing ocationally kisses onto her palm , whenever she talked about something that upset her. He enjoyed listening to her almost as much as her gentle kisses he would get to feel whenever his pain was unbearable.

They balanced each other nicely and after a few months the word marriage appeared more and more in their talks about their future. The girl was scared of how her sister would react to her and the youngest Ragnarsson being inseparable and spent every minute they could together.

But she didn't need to tell her, because one day during her and Ubbes training lessons, while she was play fighting with Ivar . Lagertha walked up the path, none of them noticed her sharp eyes watching. Ivar had her pinned down, laughing while she tried to push him of before rolling over and sitting on his stomach, having the prince at her mercy making her grin down at him.

Ubbe and Hvitserk were watching them, drinking ale and laughing at what the other said. Lagertha was disappointed in her, why didn’t she tell her that they were lovers? She continues watching them and filled an old familiar pain in her heart. Ivar was holding her sister now, not strong enough to hurt but strong enough to let her know he had control over the situation but her sister seemed completely fine with it as she leaned into his chest looking up at him with gentle eyes and a loving smile.

Ivars smile matched hers and in this exact moment Lagertha realized that she kept her sister protected from the most beautiful thing out there, a thing she herself shared with Ragnar even after his death. Love. Ivar was similar to Ragnar in many ways, but with her in his arms he resembled his father more than anyone would guess. Of course, she didn’t want her sister to be with someone like Ivar, he was dangerous, but if it is him that makes her as happy as she is right now, then that is all she would ask for.

Returning to her throne back in the great hall Lagertha couldn’t stop thinking about how she should’ve noticed the signs. Ivar was more around than he used to be, it wasn’t his normal behavior. Besides he was being a lot kinder than usual. As Torvi entered the great hall she noticed how lost in thoughts the queen was. „What is the matter?“ She said as she walked next to to sit down by her side. „Did you know about Ivar and my sister?“ Lagertha turned to Torvi catching the younger woman smile apologetic. „Ubbe said I wasn’t supposed to tell you, I apologize.“

As she heard giggles and laughter she could tell the four of them were coming closer, she prepared herself to confront her sister about this. But how was she supposed to? She was spying on her when she found out, not having had one good reason to walk out there in the woods except to check up on her actually being there. Ubbe was the first one to walk into the great hall, he noticed something was up when Torvi didn’t greet him right away. The girl was still outside giggling and whispering. Her whispers could be heard in the whole hall. Quietness settled in as the last three of them walked in, the girl walking a little behind but smiling brightly whenever Ivar would turn around to see if she was still there with him.

„Hello sister!“ The girl greeted and smiles brightly at Lagertha. The queen did not respond, making her feel uneasy as she glanced toward Ubbe, who sighed quietly looking down. Instantly the girl knew what was going on. Panicking she walked closer to her, a nervous laugh escaping her as she looked back to Ivar in reassurance. „It isn’t like you think…“ Lagerthas raised an eyebrow making the girl feel even more uneasy. „Well then how is it? Because it looks like my sister is keeping secrets from me. Keeping secrets because she thinks I don’t want to see her happy or loved.“

The girl gasped softly wondering just how much her sister had seen. „Lagertha, I promise you I do not have any intentions behind my bond with your sister. It’s about her not about you or how you killed my mother.“ Ivar broke the silence looking at Lagertha with pure hatred but his eyes seemed to soften when he looked over at the girl standing close to her. The girl flinched at Ivars harsh words. The woman on the throne couldn’t stop herself from laughing. „I did not even think about that for a second Ivar, because you wouldn’t even be able to.“

„Sister, Ivar would be capable of ruling over Kattegat just as well as you are. His ideas for this village are incredible. If you would just listen to them you’d see how capable he would be to do everything he wanted to.“ With wide eyes the girl just realized what she said, covering her mouth she looked down. „I’m sorry I spoke out of tune.“ Lagertha studied her and saw a lot of how she acted because of Ragnar in her sister, smiling slightly. As her eyes wandered to Ivar, she caught him smirking, his eyes glistening with pride and love as his eyes wandered over her figure.

Getting of her throne Lagertha stopped only in front of her. Her hand went up to cup her cheek, making the girl flinch. The boy tried to crawl over to them making sure the girl stayed unharmed, but Ubbe held him back making the young boy fight against his hold. „He makes you happy, doesn’t he?“ Lagerthas voice was quiet as she smiled down at her sister softly. Nodding her head the girl looked back up at her. „More than anything.“ Her eyes held a sincerity that the woman saw rarely. She was a bit taken aback by her truthfulness. Of course, she was upset about it having to be Ivar. Hvitserk would’ve been easier to accept but sadly that’s not what happened. „How could it be him, he is cruel and no good for you, my sweet sister…“ She could see Ivar lowering his head, knowing that Lagertha was right about him being cruel, not being good enough for the girl.

„He wants to show me the world. He isn’t cruel, he is just easy to upset and in pain, Lagertha…“ Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how bad Ivars legs had been these past weeks. „The gods are cruel to him sometimes, so I pray. I pray to them to stop it and he starts to feel better. He is not a cruel man, Lagertha. He just isn’t!“ Her hands were trembling as she clenched them into fists. Lagertha could only stare at her in shock. For how long was their relationship kept a secret from her? „How long did you feel like this about him?“ She grew angry for being held in the dark that long. „All of this started a little over six months ago…“ The girls head hung low as she fidgeted with her fingers.

Looking at her hand she noticed a little mark on her ring finger looking over at Ivar she saw the same small mark on the same finger. „You’re thinking about marriage…“ She gasped quietly taking a step back from her sister. „I accept your decision, but I do not support it. Though I will give you my blessing only because I haven’t seen you happy like this in ages. You are my little sister and I love you and I want you to be loved. As much as I don’t like Ivar, I have to say that he truly seems to love you and care for you.“ Smiling widely the girl hugged her sister tightly, throwing her arms around her. „Thank you!“ She repeated those words until she turned to Ivar grinning at him shyly.

Ivar walked over to her cupping her cheek before he kissed her forehead and leaned his against hers. „I told it would work out somehow, my love. May the gods forbid anything would part us until we both are on our way to dine with the gods in Valhalla.“

Lagertha couldn’t fight the smile as she watched the both of them. Even though she disliked Ivar, she was certain he would treat her right. Maybe even better than Ragnar treater her. She could tell in his smile, in his eyes, in every action towards her sister, that he adored her.

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[crowwritesaway]

Ivar the Boneless x Reader

“I don’t understand how you put up with them.” Ivar told you, clenching his fists.

“I know right.” You replied, smiling. One dinner and they have him gripping his hair.

“They’re lucky you’re their daughter.” He groaned, rolling his eyes. “How can they just speak over you. They don’t even try to listen to you.”

You nodded, crossing her arms. “They’ve always been like that. It’s their way or nothing.”

Ivar tilted his head, his eyes focusing on her. “The person I know doesn’t let anyone push her around.” “Yeah, that’s the one you know outside of this realm of chaos.”

“If only I could let you see what’s inside my mind. It would be so much easier.” She mumbled, looking at the ground. “I-I don’t bother opening up for a reason…well..reasons.”

Ivar exhaled, he was trying to control himself from marching back into her family’s house. They’re gonna pay. I’ll make sure. He swore.

“I’m here for you. Even if you don’t want to talk or if you feel like there’s no words to describe how you feel, my arms are open.” Ivar told her, moving closer to her. She looked up at him.

“I appreciate that.” She smiled softly, grasping his hand. He squeezed her hand, trying to comfort her.

“You can move in with me. I’m sure mother will understand.” Ivar told her, grinning at the idea of living with her.

She thought about it. How? As if my family would ever allow that. She bit her lip. But to finally be away from the continuous conflicts. I could finally be released from the place that once felt like a home.

She sighed. In a another life, maybe.

“I wish. But I feel bad leaving them. As much as I hate…I can’t. I owe it to them.” She mumbled, looking away from him. She didn’t want to see his reaction.

He stared at her. He opened his mouth but closed it. No, I’m not like them. “Okay. When you’re ready or when you want to get away, let me know. I’ll make the arrangements and get you away from them.” She has a choice with me.

She hugged him, surprising him. She wasn’t a hugger. Ivar hugged her back. “Whatever it is, don’t feel guilty about messaging me or calling me.” He mumbled, laying his head on her neck.

#ivar fanfic #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x y/n #ivar x plus size reader #ivar x reader #vikings ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x oc #ivar the boneless x you

[ghouljams]

Friend.

Viking!Ghost with a huge wolf-dog.

Or, even better : shepherd!reader with a huge wolf-dog, or two ; big, ferocious babies who absolutely love the guy, smothering him in kisses and floof every time he visits his darling. Huge balls of fluff who are absolutely delighted when he picks both of them up as if they were still puppies. Reader falling a little bit more in love with him every time she catches him interact with them, gently talking to them as their tails wag and wag and wag. And Ghost who has to suck in a breath when he finds her asleep in the barn after she spent the night helping one of her sheep give birth, the two dogs acting as really big and warm blankets, along with all the other sheep ; just a huge pile of snuggles that won’t let any kind of cold wind through. Just utter cuteness, and the huge, powerful viking is smitten.

My period has been acting up since yesterday, and last night was a nightmare. I’m a little bit better, but I can’t eat otherwise it’s gonna start all over again. I am not hurt, I AM the hurt. I really wish I had a big doggo or one of my cats to snuggle with, or a partner to help with the panic attacks this shoot always comes with (or all of those, I need warmth and cuddles and love).

I wanna write, by I can’t, because brain not braining properly. So I’m imagining fluffy scenarios while listening to the rain outside.

The birds are singing in harmony with the rain. It’s a cozy melody.

Lots of love, Friend.

Mii, out (like a light, soon, probably).

You're getting used to the visits. The giant of a viking that hovers just at the edge of your fence, watching like he's got something to say only to turn away when you ask him to say it. The dogs like him, galloping over to the man every time his shadow crosses your fence. They wiggle and jump like puppies, pushing their big paws against his chest and stretching long with their heads back, the only man that hasn't been bowled over by them yet. You can't blame them for their affections.

Your guest scoops up one of them and cradles the overgrown mutt against his chest. Your dog, for all its ferocity, licks at his mask like the tamest pup in a litter. You get your flock settled before making your way over. It's a fair assumption the viking won't walk away with your dog, so you're guessing he's worked up the nerve for a conversation. You manage to get all the way to the fence, though he takes a step back when you lean against it. You switch your attention to the dog still on the ground and scratch under her chin. Her big eyes stare sadly up at you, as if you could pick her up like the viking.

"Ghost," he says, and you're struck by how rich his voice is, deep and smokey as a dwarves cavern, "you can call me Ghost," he explains, apparently having realized his attempted start at a conversation wasn't going to go anywhere.

"There another viking hidin' his face like you?" You ask him, the introduction is lovely (if a little awkward) but everyone in the village knows Ghost. Or, they know of him. Nobody really knows him. You figure that's what the mask is for.

"Suppose not," he replies, and there's a touch of humor in his voice you hadn't expected. It makes you think he's smiling. Somehow that makes your cheeks feel hot. Strange.

"What do you need Ghost?" You ask, leaning against the fence. He leans to put your dog down, and the other one goes to nose his hand. He scratches her head lightly before straightening up.

"Just came to pet the dogs," he tells you. You smile. "No show this time?" He asks.

"No wolves," you nod towards the pasture, your flock safe and sound as they graze. Your eyes land on the wolf fang sewn to his leather. It's familiar enough to make your heart squeeze. You wish he'd come for you.

-

You're not out in the pasture, or answering the door when he knocks. It's early but Ghost didn't think you'd be that sound a sleeper. Fucking hell it's early, he shouldn't even be here but he wanted to see you before he left and- and he couldn't stop himself. He was delaying leave for his own selfish desired, but he couldn't stop himself from coming out to your little pasture. He had no excuse for it, nothing he could tell you, but he didn't want to talk to you he wanted to see you.

These are two different things.

He wanders around the fence you've put up, sturdy, well maintained. He wonders if you fix it up yourself or ask someone else to do it. You could ask him, he'd fix it for you. He'd fix anything for you. As long as it was you asking, he could do anything.

He stops outside a little covered barn, the hay leading into it is fresh, the doors slightly ajar. It's a good bet if he's ever seen one. The hinges don't stick when he inches the door open to look inside.

One of your dogs lifts its head from your lap, and stares at him, it's fluffy tail wagging softly against the hay. You're asleep, of course you're asleep. Sprawled over the hay, your dogs cuddled around you, the rest of the sheep settled to huddle close to their shepherd as well. You're surrounded by thick wool and wirey dogs, hardly bothered by the animals and straw as you sleep through the wee hours of the morning. You don't even look cold.

Ghost unhooks his cloak, the black leather and wolf's fur feeling ominous in such a pastoral scene, and drapes it over you like a blanket. Your dogs sniff it inquisitively, nosing it until he pushes their heads away with gentle pats. He tucks the fur against your neck and strokes his knuckles against your cheek. You're so beautiful, soft and vulnerable even under your fangs. He would have taken you to bed last night if you'd let him. Stayed up to watch the ewe and her new lamb while you curled up under the pelt blankets to sleep. How safe must you feel? How safe would he feel?

His thumb strokes against the fur and he stands. You'll still be here when he gets back, maybe not in the barn but here. In the village, in your pasture, right where he knows he can find you.

And hopefully, you'll be wearing his cloak when he does.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x oc #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost cod #viking!ghost #viking au #oc: goose #shepherd!goose #Mii I'm in love with your brain #its so big and wonderful and you give me such good morsels to chew on #also “the birds are singing in harmony with the rain. its a cozy melody.” #is such a good line i mean im going to think about it forever #thank you for sharing your thoughts with me

[knight-of-flowerss]

she-bear : chapter one

navigation | warnings : inspector calls reference, nameday instead of birthday | a/n : hiii so I know this isn't really good but I'm very ill and can't think straight but I wanted to atleast get one chapter done! | wattpad | tags : @thethreeeyed-raven , @fangsp1der-2099 , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @thelirofnorthlands , @naaladareia , @not-that-syndrigast

Even when I was a child all I ever saw was war, death and sorrow but even through all the sadness, there was a sort of beauty.

My grandmother always told me that if I couldn't find a beauty in something depressing then there was no point in living in this dog eat dog world.

My father always hated that I thought like that. I don't blame him though, he was jealous. He was jealous he couldn't have that childlike optimism as he faced death and savagery almost every day as he is a well known Lord and General. I'm glad he isn't like me though, being so high ranked in an large army, you need a hard head, not to be blessed with the spotlight of pink and intimate lighting.

My mother was a stern woman, if you had done something wrong, disobeyed her rules, basically anything she didn't like, you would be punished. She would spank you in front of a cross with Jesus Christ on it as you begged for his forgiveness and if you didn't beg good enough, she would leave bloody marks.

But that was only the part where you misbehaved, my mother loves us but she can lose her temper quickly which is why I'm thankful for my youngest sister, Greta.

Because of Greta's young age she is very impressionable, she is the apple of my mothers eye, she calms her down and convinces her to at least ease on the force of her punishment.

My grandfather, Bernhard, is one of the bravest men I have ever met. He was like my father, a general, it runs in our blood to be leaders of great army's, to make our mark in history. The reason why he is the bravest men I have ever met is because when he was young, on his 46th name day, he and my grandmother found out that he was sick, really sick. They advised him not to battle, to let someone else to take over. But my grandfather is too prideful for that, he would rather die and meet our saviour and creator early than sit by, not serve his country and die as a weak frail man.

He was told he wouldn't last to see his 48th name day but that was thirty two years ago and he is still holding on yet his health is rapidly declining, I fear he might go soon.

My older siblings are Valda, Stefan and Elsa. Valda and Stefan are twins, always arguing but always sharing secrets. Even though Stefan is a man and Valda is a woman, most the time it's like they've switched roles. Stefan is the brains and Valda is the brawn.

Elsa is a woman grown, the oldest. Many whisper about her and call her crazy, yet she is not. Elsa and her late husband where head in heels in love, getting married at a young age, Elsa being only 20 and her sweetheart being 22, sadly three years later, only 7 months ago, he got killed in battle, defending his fallen brethren against the pagans.

My family isn't the most perfect but we get by. We carry on our bloodline and make centuries of our ancestors proud, 'Es lebe Haus Godfrey, es lebe unsere Krieger, es lebe Deutschland'. [long live house Godfrey, long live our warriors, long live Germany.]

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

[wordsbymae]

MINORS DNI

Title: The Viking

Pairing: Male OC x reader

TW: Violence, murder, generally bad things, implied non/con, no explicit smut but heavy Non/con groping!!, discussion of sexual slavery, mention of cannibalism, Christian elements but it is because I am and I am less afraid of stuffing up Christian stuff than other religions. If you are uncomfortable with any of that move on This man is not nice. Pet names: little mutt, little one and little lamb. Let me know if I missed anything let me know

ALPHABET HERE

Also, I tried to do Gn but as I am a woman, I automatically write with a female reader in mind. But!!!!! I have tried my very best to not mention gender. If something doesn't work please tell me. Reader discretion is advised! Also, I hope I don't need to say this but I will just in case, I do not condone these sorts of actions!!! Or any actions in any of my work. This is pure fiction. Also, all my OCs and the reader are over the age of 18+. and I'm not gonna add google translate because that takes forever and you guys won't even be able to read it so he conveniently speaks the same language as the reader.

Notes: Aaaaa! I have 21 followers! You guys are absolutely amazing! I never thought anyone would want to read my stuff let alone like and reblog. This doesn't take place in any place in particular, if anything I heavily rely on the climate of my home. I was though heavily influenced by Vikings and their nordic culture of that time, however, I had originally planned to make the oc a barbarian of sorts and not a Viking. But my inspiration dive into Pinterest left me with Vikings so here we are. I might write a nomadic barbarian fic later on cause I do see them as quite different in my mind but it depends where this goes, I usually write the notes and triggers before I start writing as a way of planning my thoughts so it might change halfway through.

Also the climatic event in the beginning, in my mind, is the cause of a volcanic eruption somewhere on earth, there was a year of just constant winter due to a massive eruption a few centuries ago and I wanted to include that and showcase how superstitious the people of this time were, seeing the winter as a foreshadowing of terror. And hell they were right.

Lots of love Mae xx

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It was far too early in the season for the cold winds to be here. Your father pretended to not be frightened but you could see it in his eyes. There was a fear lingering. You could hear your parents whispering in worry when they thought you were asleep. You could hear your mother sob as they discussed what it could mean. Your homeland was one of sun and thunder, but never frost, never snow. Yet, a chill had descended onto your lands. A frost had spread across the summer grass. Your bare feet crunched upon what should have been dried pasture, instead, they were chilled by a wicked frost. The sun that you would curse for its harsh warmth was now hidden behind constant grey clouds and you begged for it to return. The floods and storms you ragged against never came. No seasonal thunderstorms after the humidity of the day. There was just darkness. Travellers and merchants from far-off lands, journeying to the capital came through your village, speaking of the darkness that had spread. It seemed like no kingdom or empire was safe. The frost and darkness had come for all.

The first omen of their arrival was the frost itself. It seeped into everything and made the ground as solid as rock, the summer pastures shrivelled up and left nothing but dirt behind.

The second omen was the famine. The harvest failed and the livestock starved. Your father was forced to sell the heifers and cows and slaughter all calves and steers to provide for your family. Still, it wasn't enough. You heard gruesome tales of far-off villages butchering each other for scraps of meat from their bones. Your village was lucky, the sea still provided as much as it could.

The third omen was the dragons. Firey images in the night sky, leaving streaks of light hanging in the air. As soon as they appeared men cried out and women fell to their knees. It was a sign of a terror to come.

The final omen was a raven.

The skies had begun to clear and the winter rains had soothed the harsh scars left behind. Crops had been sown and the frost retreated in the face of the reappeared sun. You had all thought that the struggles of the last few months were over. Your father had been able to buy a cow with calf last week with money you made weaving baskets. She was a skinny thing even with the calf in her belly, but with the winter rain healing the land, you could see her regaining strength.

You had thought it was a crow when you first saw it. It did seem to be a bit bigger than the crows that waited patiently for your fish scraps by the pier. But you had never seen a raven before, so why think anything of it. It had flown in from the sea, flew over the village before fixing its gaze on your mother's garden. Your mother prized her garden, especially her roses, and had cried bitter tears when the frost killed the flowers, leaving thorny masses behind, but they had begun to regrow, leaving your families house surrounded by a beautiful arrangement of daisies and violas, butterfly pea flowers and lilacs. You had your favourites of course. In fact, you were picking them right now, happy to make a bouquet for your ancestors' burial place. As you were sitting and deciding which flowers to choose, the raven landed beside you, you watch in amazement as it plucked a flower from your hand and rose into the air and back towards the sea. Standing up with a giggle you chased after it in play until you reached your property's fence. You watched until it was nothing but a black dot in a sky of blue. If you had known what it had foreshadowed you would have wrung its neck.

They themselves came in the night.

They landed on the beaches and in silence drifted into town. Axes drawn and blood-hungry. The first death was the blacksmith. He was stumbling from the inn, stomach filled with ale. He saw them first, and let out a cry of warning, but it did not save him from a dagger sliding across his throat. The killer let out a howl. His comrades followed. The screams began.

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You had lost sight of your mother in the smoke of the burning village. Fire ragged towards the heavens. The smell of charcoal and blood ravaged your senses. The yelling and screaming were just a constant now. Like how a bird song drifts into the background. You stood immobile calling for your mother, begging her to reveal herself. Out of habit, you called for your father, but you were harshly reminded that dead men can't answer. You watched as the savages ripped men to the ground and let blood flow. They hadn't noticed you yet it seemed. A lone wraith shaking in the centre of town. In the centre of all the murder and mayhem. For a moment you thought you were dead. That the arrow your father had taken for you had indeed struck you and now you were wandering the mortal realm alone and afraid until St Peter called for you.

Your eyes reached towards the heavens and you began to beg for the angels to pluck you from this horror. Your arms wrapped around yourself as tears flowed down your soot-covered cheeks. You were broken from your prayers when you heard your name being called, your mother perhaps? Your eyes rushed to find her. No, you can't see her. But it was enough to have you moving towards the darkness and away from the light of the fire. With your arms still holding you tight, you began to stumble towards the outskirts of town. Once in the fields outside town, you could hide. Wait till they grew bored of your village and left in their ships to torment another village. You were reminded of a time when you were fearful of the dark. But now it was your salvation. Tripping over your feet you struggled to remain standing, leaning on the walls of yet-to-be-destroyed houses and holding onto the rungs of fences. You kept rushing forward, eyes onto the safety of darkness. You were close, only a few more steps.

A beast emerged from the darkness. His face burned with the light of the fire, and his axe shined with delight. His furs were matted with blood and encompassed his shoulder. His arms were bare save for strips of leather circling them. There was blood on his arms and hands as well, dripping onto the handle of his axe and onto the dirt below. You stood still, hoping perhaps you were dead. That he would just pass by and you could remain nothing more but a spirit. If death was without pain you would prefer it to the horrors the beast in front of you was capable of. His face was marked with blood, lines travelling over his forehead and down through his eyes. His eyes flickered with hunger and his mouth was turned up into a grin. He stood feet wide as if he was ready to battle, but his hand was loose on the axe, allowing it to dangle from his palm. He saw no threat in you.

A strange mix of sounds came from his mouth, while his voice was rough and stern, his words were lyrical and filled with rounded sounds and quick sharp notes. It left you confused and almost enchanted, like a deer in the gaze of a hunter.

His voice stopped and his eyes drifted down and then up. He gave a deep laugh at the site of your cowering.

"Come little mutt, stand tall" he chuckled with amusement. You whimpered at the sight of him, a beast of a man denying your freedom. He began to march towards you his axe swinging in his hold. You try to take steps back but he is quicker. You yelp as he pushes you towards a wall, his thick forearm resting against your neck as he peers down at you. You could see the scars littering his face and could smell the stench of blood dominating his body. You could feel the warmth of the blood from his arm smearing all over your neck and chest. You hated to think whose blood it once was.

"Little mutt has no teeth huh? What about claws? hm?" he questioned, joy in your torment in his eyes.

"If I was to fuck you now would you fight me? Would you claw at me or bite at my fingers?" he laughed at your obvious fear. He brought his head down to your neck and sniffed loudly. You cringed as his nose met your skin.

"You smell sweet little mutt. I wonder if you taste just as good"

you struggled as his tongue run up your neck, tears tumbling down your cheeks.

"As sweet as honey!" he cheered. His forearm dug into your neck further as you struggled to escape. He began to shush you, giving out soothing sounds like you would a crying baby as his body stepped forward to meet yours.

" Please don't kill me" you choked, eyes red with fear.

"Never little one!" he bellowed, his face of mock hurt. "Why would I kill you? hm?" he comforted, releasing his arm if only by a fraction. "You will fetch me a high price at the slave markets, little lamb. Men will go mad trying to buy you for their beds" he grinned, showing off his sharp canine teeth. You struggled once more, this time clawing at his arm and chest.

"So the little mutt has claws! Maybe I will keep you for myself. Use you to warm my cock. Would you like that little one?" he teased, he moved his face closer, his tongue darting out to catch the tears on your cheek.

" Get off me" you grunted, desperately trying to remove his arm. he teased you by feigning pity.

"Poor little lamb, you must be so scared. Trapped by a beast like me" he cooed, pushing his arm further into your skin. You watched as his eyes drifted to your chest below his arm. He dropped the axe in his other hand to the ground, it falling flat with a light thud. He looked you in the eyes once more. You could see mischief in them.

"I am torn between keeping you for my bed slave and making a small fortune on another man's desires. Let me see your wares and then I shall decide" he sang, his grin reaching higher and higher with each word. You could only watch in horror as his hands reached for the front of your night smock and ripped it. You tried to grab his wrists but he was too strong. In a mere moment, your smock lay tattered on the ground and you stood bare in the night air. His eyes drank you in, and his hands drifted over your body. He gripped tightly in some places and softly in others. Blood from his hands was left smeared all over you, like rivers on a map. His eyes found yours once more and glee was evident on his face.

"I have decided little mutt. You shall warm my bed and most importantly me" he proclaimed, laughing at the end. "I am to be your master and you the little mutt at my heels. But first, let me dull those claws, hm?"

You stood arms covering yourself confused at his words. You had no claws to dull.

You gave a shriek as he began to drag you into the darkness. His hand was tight against your wrists. You tried to use your body weight to stop him, but it only ended with you falling to the ground and him dragging you through the dirt. You screamed and kicked, shouted and cried. He just laughed.

The dirt turned to soft grass as released you from his grip. You shot up to your bare feet, only to be thrown to the ground and a foot thrown on your stomach.

"I admire your fight little mutt, but as your master, I cannot in good conscious allow you to disrespect me. it would not be natural." he cooed at you, his hair falling into his eyes. You choked out a sob at the thought of what he planned to do. You were both far enough from the town your screams would not be heard and you were both hidden by lush pasture. You began to pray, your words drowning in sobs.

"Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kin-"

"Enough!" shouted, falling onto his knees above you, a dagger glinting in his hand.

"Keep your God, fine, but do not expect kindness from me when you beg for his mercy" he sneered. You watched in terror as the dagger raced towards your head, only for it to land safely in the soil next to you.

"Now little lamb moan sweetly for me, will you?" he smiled, his grin one of filth. You lay there looking up at him in fear. "I said moan" he barked, his hand reaching for your throat. You gave him what he wanted, although it was tarnished by your terror.

"Like the music of the gods" he praised. He removed his hand from your throat and brought both to your knees, lifting them up and slotting himself in between them.

"Look at you little mutt, shaking and cowering in fear and yet I haven't even fucked you yet. You Christians are strange folk. If you knew of pleasure you would be moaning on my cock by now. You yourself would have begged for it. Begged for me to fuck your tight little hole on the ashes of your ho-" you slapped him with a furry. A rage releases from you, with you reaching for the dagger beside your head. His hand reached for yours first and punished it with his strength. He gave off a terrifying laugh as you were forced to drop the knife and he quickly threw it behind him.

"Maybe you aren't a little mutt but a little wolf instead. That fire in you will warm my cock and balls for years to come. But first, let me break you in"

You really did wish that arrow had found its mark in you.

#vikings #oc #gn!reader #viking oc #i noticed i write in past tense. I guess thats just my writing #i was going to tag yandere but it isnt #its just dark #viking x reader #oc viking x reader #dark fic #dark drabble #tw noncon

[paracosmoon]

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

#vikings #vikings incorrect quotes #ubbe ragnarsson #ragnar lothbrok #rollo lothbrok #ivar the boneless #modern ivar #ivar x oc #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless x ofc #ivar the boneless x you #hvitserk #vikings valhalla #vikings imagine #vikings ivar #lagertha #bjorn vikings #bjorn ironside #bjorn ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom #tlk uhtred #uhtred imagine

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Unexpected: Part 3

Summary: Thickheaded idiot Ivar finally realizes he’s in love while going to the market with her to get her new clothes and wise NPC (tm) gives him some advice. Aslaug takes her in for an interrogation à la overbearing mother… More smut ofc, but it’s a bit brief this time!

Beginning Notes: the Brísingamen is a necklace that was given to Freya in Norse mythology. From the etymology of the word, it’s possible that the necklace was meant to be made of amber.

Taglist: @bragisrunes @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @alicedopey @batmandallyboy (hmu to be added!)

Masterlist | Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 | requests are OPEN!

He woke up next to her this morning. Ivar can barely process it. When she moved in her sleep, he’d woken up, and he’d gotten to hold her while she was still sleeping, running a hand through her hair carefully.

She’d smiled at him when she had woken up, kissed him, gotten dressed halfway, and then Ivar had ruined her efforts and they were late to breakfast.

Now that she was his, she didn’t have to serve anyone else. Unlike Margrethe, she doesn’t dare sit down at the table, instead pouring his drink and refilling his mother’s and brother’s cups as well. Ivar glares at Sigurd, who leans towards her just to tease him.

Ivar knows that he is more interested in men than women, and that he’s fucking one ever since Hvitserk and Ubbe are taking up all of Margrethe’s time, but he still clenches his fist in jealousy under the table.

After breakfast, they head out alone. Sigurd leaves first, grabbing his Oud before he disappears to Gods know where, and Hvitserk and Ubbe leave soon after, saying that they’ll spar a bit. Ivar doubts it. Then again, his intentions aren’t the purest either.

She follows him dutifully to the market, carrying an empty basket. Before they can buy anything, Ivar spots Helga, who hands him a small vial. She smiles at her brightly.

“This is for your legs. It’s a new recipe, so tell me if anything is off.” She says, looking at Ivar.

Ivar nods, and she’s quick to take it, putting it in her basket.

“Do you need anything?” Helga asks, turning to her. She shakes her head.

“Bodil’s fever is gone, thank the Gods. It would’ve broken Estrid’s heart if her last daughter died too. That Frankish slave, Lothar, he cut himself quite deep, but the others already shared some of your old supplies.” She replies.

“That’s good. If you need anything, don’t be shy to come to me.” Helga says, walking away. Then, Ivar turns to her.

“How do you know Helga?” he asks.

“She helps us a lot. Whenever she can spare her supplies, she gives them to us. There’s a thrall that used to be in Floki’s service who learned from her. She’s a very kind woman.”

“That is true.” Ivar nods. He didn’t know Helga helped the slaves, but it’s her character to do such a strange thing.

The first stall they stop at is a fabric stall. The merchant looks like he comes from Rus, and his heavy accent confirms Ivar’s expectations.

He offers Ivar a good deal on a ready-made dress and a fur, but when Ivar turns to her, her eyes are wide.

“That is too expensive.” She says decidedly. The merchant immediately tells her he’s unwilling to haggle, but she shrugs, choosing a plain fabric instead. Ivar is sure it’s meant for aprons, but the light blue color suits her, so he hands over his coin.

“You need a pelt for when it gets colder.” He tells her. She looks uncomfortable at the thought, but nods.

“But not from this stall. This is luxury clothing he’s selling.”

Ivar lets her lead him away from the stalls on the main road, and towards a tiny stall that sells pelts as well as a few vegetables that have definitely been grown in the sorry soil of Kattegat.

She seems to know the vendor, who looks surprised at seeing a prince at her stall. Ivar chooses the fur, and she immediately begins haggling with the woman, before they settle on a price, she deems reasonable. Before they leave, Ivar spots a deep green, but still plain dress.

“That one too.” He tells the woman.

“You really don’t have to.” She insists, but the vendor readily holds it out for Ivar to inspect.

“No discussion.” Ivar tells her. “You need more than one proper dress.”

“I can make at least three out of this fabric.” She replies but lets him buy the dress.

They walk back onto the main road together, and she offers to go home. She’s blushing as she looks at the green dress, and Ivar can tell that she can’t believe the amount of money he just spent on her.

“I want to keep looking.” Ivar tells her. The blacksmith lives next to the stalls, and Ivar wants to pick up an axe he commissioned. Then, he wants to go to the stall of a Francian who sells wares from the Mediterranean. His mother loves oranges, so Ivar always goes to see if they have any.

While he’s at the blacksmith, he gives her money to go to the Francian. He follows soon after, only to see that she’s still at the stall.

“I don’t sell to thralls.” The merchant tells her as Ivar comes closer.

“It’s not for me, and I have the money. My master sent me to buy them.” She explains. “And I can take the bad ones off your hands, if you’d like.”

“Stop begging and buy off of someone else.” The merchant hisses.

“Is there a problem?” Ivar asks, stepping next to her. His axe is still in his hand.

“Prince Ivar!” he exclaims. Turning to her, he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me who your master was?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.” She presses out, and Ivar can see the barely concealed anger in the way she clenches her jaw, and her knuckles turn white on the handle of her basket.

The merchant hands over the oranges, and then turns around and gives her another crate.

“The bad ones.” He says. Ivar looks at them and sees a few with marks, some with a little mold on them. He would never eat them, but she smiles brightly and thanks the merchant.

“Why did you ask him for the foul ones?” he asks her as soon as they are out of the rude merchant’s hearing.

“They’re not foul.” She laughs. “Just a bit old. These stalls are luxury stalls, so they usually don’t even sell to random thralls, but once, Bodil found a mandarin after the stall had closed down. She brought it to the thrall quarters and shared it with all of us. We kept the peel because it smelled so good. Since then, we’ve been trying to get more, whether that’s the old ones or something that fell off his cart.”

Ivar thinks he understands. There’s one last stop he wants to make today, but before they make it, she spots a young girl. Ivar follows her gaze. It’s another thrall, who waves to her. The girl can’t be older than seven. Unsure, she glances to him.

“Go.” Ivar tells her, and she almost runs off, taking the young girl into her arms. He sees them chatter and the girl grabs an orange from the crate, holding it up high over her head triumphantly. She reminds Ivar of Hvitserk. Ivar turns to the stall he wants to visit.

“I want to buy a necklace.” He tells the merchant. They know each other well. She’s an old woman, who was already selling her jewelry when Aslaug came to Kattegat. Ivar has been going to her whenever he wants to buy his mother a present.

“For your mother?” she asks, and Ivar shakes his head.

“For the girl?” she guesses, and Ivar stares at the ground.

“Just a simple one. With a stone or so.” He tells her. She turns around, going through one of her displays, until she finds what she’s looking for.

It’s a simple band with an amber pendant she hands him, and Ivar finds it almost painfully on the nose.

“Would you like a ring to go with it?” she asks in an almost teasing voice, and it’s only because Ivar has known her all her life that there are no consequences.

“What would I need that for?” he asks coolly.

“I’ve never seen you with that girl before, but I can tell when men are in love. It’s why I sell so much.”

“Secrets of the trade?” Ivar asks sarcastically.

“Precisely that. Tell her you’re in love. And free her if you haven’t already. I’ve heard nothing bad about that girl, and it’s obvious to me she loves you back.”

Ivar nodded, handing over the money before quickly leaving the stall, necklace clutched in his hand. She enjoyed gossip, entertaining his mother whenever she came to her stall, Ivar knew that. She also enjoyed making money. Was it really true that she liked him?

She’s spinning the girl around as Ivar comes closer, before she hugs her and turns around to find him. She almost bumps into Ivar.

“Oh sorry.” She apologizes. “I’m a bit dizzy. You know, from all the turning.”

Her hairdo is dangerously close to falling apart, and Ivar wants to fix it for her later.

“Who was that?” Ivar asks.

“That’s Bodil. I gave her the oranges so she can share with her family and friends.”

“What about you?”

“I already got fabric and a dress, AND a fur coat. I don’t need more luxuries.” She shrugs.

Shakily, Ivar grabbed the amber pendant. “I still want to give you this.”

She accepts it carefully, as if it’ll crack if she cradles it too harshly. “Thank you, Ivar. It’s absolutely beautiful.”

Then, she hugs him, in the middle of the main road. Ivar freezes, not knowing what to do. Carefully, he lays his head on her shoulder.

They walk into the Great Hall the moment Ubbe and Hvitserk return, and Ivar shoots her a regretful glance as his brothers pull him away.

“I’ll clean your room and change your bedding.” She calls after him, disappearing with her new things.

Aslaug’s POV:

Ivar and his thrall had come back from the market just in time for Aslaug to watch her disappear into his room. She didn’t trust this woman. Perhaps she would use Ivar’s trust to steal something he wouldn’t miss. Perhaps she was as ambitious as Margrethe.

Aslaug was going to find out.

The thrall didn’t notice her at first. She was pulling the linens off of Ivar’s bed, her back turned to the door. Only when she turned around did she see Aslaug.

“My Queen.” She said, bowing her head. “Prince Ivar bought you oranges. I’ve had them brought to the kitchens. Is there anything specific you’d like them with?”

“What are your intentions with my son?”

“I don’t have any intentions.” She replied.

“Why did you sleep with him?” Aslaug continued.

“I thought he was attractive.”

“Despite his legs?”

“I’m not as superficial as some other women.” She said calmly.

“Would you like to be free one day?” Aslaug asked

“Which thrall doesn’t?”

“Do you love him?” Aslaug asked finally. There’s silence from this quick-witted thrall. It lasts too long to be a lie. She doesn’t answer Aslaug at all. The queen grabbed the thrall’s jaw, making her look up at her. Aslaug noticed how young she looked. She couldn’t be much older than Ivar.

She remembered her vision. Aslaug had dreamt that Ivar would marry a thrall one day. She had also dreamt that Ivar would die at sea before he would marry. Her visions did not help her. They only conflicted each other.

“He cannot free you.” Aslaug told her.

“Being his thrall has already made me happier.” She replied.

“He’ll marry someone else. A worthy princess or an earl’s daughter. Not you.”

For a moment, Aslaug sees her façade drop. A second of hurt and jealousy. Then it was over, and Aslaug let go of her jaw.

“Break his heart.” She told the girl, “And you’ll have his family lining up to kill you before he does.”

“I know.” She replied, as if that didn’t scare her. Then, the thrall continued cleaning the bed, as if their conversation had never happened.

Ivar’s POV:

She was talking to Hvitserk. Why the fuck was she talking to Hvitserk?

He creeps closer, trying to make out what she’s saying. Hvitserk’s laughing at something she just told him, and it makes Ivar’s blood boil.

“I can teach them how to make the bread.” Ivar can finally hear her say. What?

Hvitserk sees him, and smiles at Ivar brightly. Absentmindedly, he hands her his cup, and Ivar wants to start a fight with him for disrespecting his woman. Except that she is a thrall, and all she’ll ever be is his property.

“I was just asking her about the bread she made. Now that she isn’t in the kitchen, it’ll be the old bread again.” Hvitserk explains.

“Stay away from her.” Ivar tells him, before going to her.

“Jealous?” Hvitserk teases.

“Shut up.” Ivar almost roars over his shoulder.

“If it’s alright I’ll teach the others in the kitchen how to make the bread sometime next week.” She offers.

“I don’t want you talking to Hvitserk.” Ivar says.

“He’s your brother. I’m bound to see him when I’m living in your home.”

Ivar’s hand shoots up, resting on her neck.

“He’s good with most women. I’m not.” Ivar presses out.

“And I am not most women.” She replies quietly. “I thought we’d already established that.”

Ivar could feel the anger creeping up on him. Suddenly, every man in the room was staring at her. The two shieldmaidens making out in the corner seemed to be waving her over, asking them to join. Sigurd was there, Hvitserk was there, Ubbe was there, even Bjorn was there.

They all look like they were going to take her from him. And the worst part was, Ivar knows they could.

“Go to my room. Now. Take that dress off.” He tells her, before letting go of her neck.

He stays until he can’t bear it anymore before he walks towards their room. Hvitserk throws him a look that used to be reserved for teasing Ubbe, but no one else in the Great Hall notices.

When he gets to their, no, his room, the dress is barely over her shoulders.

“That was fast.” She comments. Wordlessly, Ivar grabs her, pushing her against the door. Her back hits it with a quiet thud, and she lets him tear the dress down her shoulders. The necklace rests between her breasts, a reminder that she’s his.

His fingers are on her, groping greedily because Ivar wants to somehow show her that he loves her, and that he wants her to be his – in a way that she cannot be.

“You’re mine.” Ivar says harshly, “Only mine.”

She nods frantically, and Ivar knows that, in any other situation, she would’ve said something snarky.

“Say it.” He demands. He can feel the desperation inside him growing, he wants her to tell him she feels the same way. He needs her too.

“Yours.” She breathes out, the word ending in a moan when his hand finds her pussy.

She repeats it from her own volition, over and over as Ivar leads her to his bed and sucks dark splotches onto her skin. Her hands trail down his chest, towards his breeches and Ivar lets her do it, because this is something he can trust her with.

Her hand finds his cock and she pumps up and down, until Ivar is groaning into her neck, almost ready to beg her. When he pushes into her, it feels just as good as the first time, but this time, Ivar isn’t tense, only angry.

He wants to be gentle with her, so he kisses her slowly, lets his touch become softer. He still squeezes her neck and grabs her hips, because that’s as gentle as Ivar will ever get. When he’s done, he pulls out, using his fingers to get her to finish too.

They lie side by side in silence, and Ivar can hear the sounds of the feast taking place behind his door. He wonders if they heard them. A part of him wants them to know that he can do it. Another part wants her to be his secret.

Her hand finds his. She holds it as carefully as her necklace of amber, staring up at the ceiling. Ivar looks at her, but she doesn’t notice, and for the first time, he sees her.  He sees a reflection of his anger in her. It’s hidden much better, but it’s there.

“Why are you angry?” he asks her. She hesitates, as if she’s considering lying to him.

“The merchant.” She replies.

“I can have him killed if you want.” Ivar offers. She shakes her head, beginning to smile.

“And what would that do?”

“He wouldn’t be able to disrespect you without a head.”

“It wouldn’t change anything. There’ll always be people treating me like I am worth less than cattle. It’s stupid to be angry at them, but I can’t help it. Even if someone freed me, I’d always be the former thrall.” She explains. Ivar knows that he cannot understand fully what she means, and that makes him angrier than before.

“They wouldn’t disrespect you if you were a queen.” Ivar blurts out. She turns to face him, a hand running through his hair.

“My Ivar.” She says, and his heart skips a beat. “We both know that won’t happen. You love your mother far too much.”

I love you too. Ivar wants to say, because he can hear it between the words she does say, I love you and I’d break my promise to my mother for you. I think.

“You’re the only one in the world who understands my anger.” He says instead. It has to be enough, for now.

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