#i never thought they'd make another song like fast pace

[theeblackmedusa]

great mistakes 5/7 {attoye}

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

ao3 link

summary: "loving you had been my greatest mistake, but it's a mistake i'd make a million times."

pairing: okoye x attuma

warnings: angst if you squint, not quite smut but sexual content

a/n: i remixed some of the sirens' abilities bc i don't know if what i wrote is accurate to any kind of lore, but it works for this story so hopefully it isn't too far off.

a/n 2: once again, my keep reading option does not work, so i apologize for how lengthy this post is.

Attuma woke up at an ungodly hour, head full of swirling thoughts. He couldn't grasp why everything was moving so fast, what could have driven a weak surface dweller to even think of going against the alliance. He was no fan of the surface world, but he knew that the Wakandans were smart enough to not attack them. Both sides knew it was not a war that Wakanda could win. 

He stood and began pacing, attempting to put pieces of a jumbled puzzle together. The pieces, however, weren't clicking. No matter how many times he played it over in his mind, the why did not make sense. He was even having trouble with the how. Talokan was packed full of trained fighters, it was practically a requirement. From the time they could walk, they were learning to defend themselves and their nation. He could think back to his days as a young trainee, just a child being taught to throw his first punch. He and Namora had spent most of their childhood sparring with each other and trying to prove who would dominate the next generation of Talokanil warriors. He remembered the two of them always throwing fits if they lost to the other, claiming that they'd been cheated of a win. Young Namora claiming that Attuma's siren song was unnaturally powerful and Young Attuma that Namora kept giving him visions that distracted him. 

And just like that, the pieces connected. It made sense, how a Talokanil could fall so easily. Namora's involvement was the only way that it would make sense. He wasted no time finding her, blood boiling as he made his way to Namora's quarters. He'd shocked her by throwing the door open as he entered, making her whip around and throw a spear in his direction at the possibility of an attacker in her home. He caught it quickly before throwing it down, the tip jamming into the ground.

"Who did you give the vision to?" he questioned accusingly, voice raised to a level that was rare for his relatively calm demeanor. "You made the Wakandan kill him!"

Namora's brow raised and she cocked her head to the side, looking at him without portraying any notion that she knew what he was talking about. 

"What do you speak of, Attuma?" she sighed, turning back to her mirror to finish the braid she'd been working on before he'd stormed into her home. 

"Do not insult my intelligence, Namora! Which Wakandan was it?" 

She shook her head, finishing the braid's end and turning back to him when she was satisfied with how it looked. 

"I would never dare to do such a thing," she played, eyes rolling at his confidence. 

"Do you not understand the graveness of the situation you have created?" he questioned, only praying that he can get through to her and save both nations the unavoidable casualties that will come with another war. "You must fix this or the alliance will fail. People will die, our people!" 

Namora shook her head, inhaling deeply. She figured there was no longer a point in trying to hide her doings from Attuma. He knew her too well for that. Maybe she'd even be able to convince him that she'd done the right thing, that K'uk'ulkan and the alliance were going to drive Talokan into the ground. 

"This alliance was a mistake from the very beginning," she began. "It was bound to fall apart, and all I have done is give Talokan the opportunity to come out on top." 

She turned back to him and turned her head to the side, eyeing him intensely. Namora was smart enough to know what is curiosity was about. Not too long ago, Attuma would not have hesitated to follow her lead had she done something like this. Hell, he would probably be the one leading. This change of heart obviously came from his allowing Okoye to get inside of his head, to change his priorities. 

"You need to get your head on straight, Attuma," Namora told him. "She is not as devoted to you as you are to her. She will kill you if she must. Will you be able to kill your precious warrior when the time comes?"

She was well aware that Attuma loved hard and that if he was as in deep with Okoye as Namora figured he was, there was no way that he would be the one to drive a blade into her back if the opportunity arose. His silence spoke for him and he stood defensively in front of her before taking a few steps toward her. Before he could threaten her, she was shaking her head at him. 

"She has made you weak, Attuma, but it is an easy fix." 

"Namora, if you so much as-"

She laughed at him before sighing, bringing a hand up to condescendingly pat his shoulder.

"Your warrior will be safe. For now," she told him. "When she is to die, it will be honorably. She has earned a warrior's death, and I will happily to provide it to her. It will be nothing personal. It will be for the good of Talokan." 

For a moment, he contemplated explaining it all to K'uk'ulkan, wondered if he would be able to convince him now that his heart had already been turned in the direction of war. He inhaled, knowing that the chances were slim with Namora already in K'uk'ulkan's ear. He knew the only way to bring an end to the madness, but that way was currently giving him the silent treatment. He was determined to fix it, though. Attuma decided that he would have to make his way to Wakanda, deal with the stares he'd get from her Border Tribe as he made his way to her home. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

Okoye had woken up earlier normal and could hardly think straight from sleep deprivation. The entirety of her night had either been spent missing Attuma or fearing her future in Wakanda if she sided with Shuri. The journaling was of no use because whenever she tried to open up the vault of her worries, she couldn't stop thinking about if she was any better than W'Kabi if she decided to follow through with Shuri's plan. He'd betrayed the throne and she was very close to doing the same, so what was separating them? The good of Wakanda? That was W'Kabi's same argument. Okoye was so used to knowing what to do, strategizing and finding a way around potential problems, but this felt impossible. 

Okoye let the water fall over her body, head submerged completely as the water streamed from the shower. Her mind never gave her a break from memories of her failings constantly flashing through her head.

"Isidenge," she muttered. Idiot. 

She ran her hands over her face, wiping away the water as she mentally berated her past self as she replayed asking Queen Mother to let Shuri tag along. She should have known Shuri wasn't ready, should've anticipated that Talokan was as strong as Namor had threatened in the beginning. She should've done a lot of things different.

A tear ran down Okoye's cheek and she wiped it immediately before turning the shower off, beginning to feel lightheaded from the steam. She stepped out of the shower carefully, wrapping herself in her towel and cracking the bathroom door open to let out some of the steam in the room. She turned the cold water on and began splashing it in in her face to try and cool down momentarily.

As she reached for a paper towel to dry her soaked face, she heard a familiar rapping coming from her back door. She was alert immediately. There was a part inside of her that knew very well that he would never bring her any more harm than he'd done before their involvement with each other began, but she couldn't help the small twinge of doubt that struck her whenever she thought of trusting him now.

Okoye inhaled deeply, making her way to the door and looking out to be greeted by him holding up the same goat that had been stalking him only days before. Her brows furrowed as she realized she was unable to see M20 anywhere in sight. He'd been stationed right outside of her home and now he'd suddenly disappeared. As if on queue, she heard the great beast growl for Attuma's attention before coming into view in the small viewing hole. 

"You get no more fruit! You have eaten all that I had for you!" Attuma voiced, turning to the animal, not letting his guard down after denying such a dangerous thing food. 

M20 growled again, and although Okoye knew that he wouldn't attack Attuma because of his familiarity with the man, she opened the door to save Attuma the fear. His head snapped when he heard the door creak. She pulled her towel tighter around her under his gaze. 

"Release my goat," she commanded, ignoring the way his eyes were dragging down her barely covered body. Attuma obliged by gently placing it on the ground behind him and watching as it ran free. "Why are you here, and what have you done to take down M20's guard?" 

"We need to speak and I did a small amount of research. The beast does not eat meat," he answered confidently, proud to show off his newfound knowledge to Okoye. "May I come in?" 

She shook her head in disbelief at him and began to close the door in his face, which was Attuma's final straw. He didn't have it in him anymore to go another moment with her holding any kind of disdain for him. The larger man blocked the door with his hand and kept it open, keeping his face within view in the crack of the door. 

"Attuma-"

"Let me speak. Please."

Okoye took in his pleading eyes. She could tell that he was trying. That explaining would mean a lot to him. The woman inhaled deeply in preparation for whatever it was he had to say to her. 

"Well go on," she instructed impatiently, trying to avoid his gaze as he stared at her with those dark eyes that had a tendency to make her heart melt.

"Namora has...a gift. She has been using it to her advantage since we were small. This mess, it was of her doing. She caused the murder." 

Okoye's eyes narrowed at him, but she released the door and stepped aside to allow him in and give him the opportunity to speak. He'd intrigued her now.

"It was not a murder," she corrected, backing further away from the door as he entered her home. 

"I was unaware that it had happened. I never misled you," he told her, his eyes letting her see his sincerity. They always held the truth. "It was not until I came to K'uk'ulkan that I knew of any tensions. I have recently confronted Namora, and I am sure that she is behind it." 

She could believe it. Although, her belief would be solely based off of what Attuma had told her of Namora, how she never wished for the alliance, how she'd do anything to keep Talokan safe. Okoye respected that, respected her dedication to her country, but she was sure she didn't have it in her to spark an entire war for Wakanda. It was extreme, but it wasn't hard to believe that Namora could go to that extreme and even exceed it. 

"You went along with Namor's plan to kill our brother after you knew. You helped spill Wakandan blood, my blood without any explanation," she pointed out, trying to find more reasons to keep him at a distance. 

"He is my king. I must obey the throne the same as you," he responded, taking a step closer to her and refusing to let her distance him any more than she already had. 

She wanted to leave, wanted to escape, but that wasn't an option for her. How could she when Shuri was about to make a decision that could truly mean the end of Wakanda? This, she decided, would be her chance to redeem herself. To who, she wasn't sure, but she needed to figure out another plan. A plan that wouldn't provoke Namor any further and push their nations past the breaking point.

She wondered if Attuma ever thought about straying away, how much sacrifice would be too much for him? What would be the straw to break the great Attuma's back? 

Okoye turned from him and walked into her living room, hearing his heavy footsteps ringing behind her. 

"It never ends does it? There is always something to deal with," she sighed, taking a seat on her couch. 

Attuma sat beside her quietly. She was right. The life they'd chosen didn't provide breaks. Something was always happening even if they weren't major somethings. But in that moment, he knew that if anyone deserved even a second of peace, it was her. He wasn't sure she'd had a break in her entire career with the way that she pushed herself in every aspect of life. 

"What if we simply forget for a moment?" he questioned, hands coming to her shoulders. 

Okoye sighed at his touch, not realizing just how much she'd missed it until it was there again.

"We do not get to forget. All we get to do is handle things," she responded. 

"Then we will handle it together," he suggested softly. "By each other's side. We will handle it." 

She turned to look at him with a raised brow, finding it difficult to believe that he could ever step outside of his duty just to try and figure out the mess that their countries had found themselves in. 

"Oh, will we?" she questioned, earning a nod in response, his gentle touch making its way from her shoulders down to her arms. 

"We will. We will handle it and the rest of the world together." 

She looked in his eyes once more and found nothing but his honesty, and Bast, she hated him for it. She hated him for being so honest and for caring so much and for making everything okay even though it was as far from okay as possible. She turned away from his gaze, closing her eyes and laughed lightly in disbelief. For all of that "hatred", it paled in comparison to the way she "hated" him for being her weakness. 

"Exactly how will we do that?" she asked him softly. "How will we handle this situation between our nations? More people are going to die."

"We can figure that part out later," he told her. "For now, we take a moment to forget." 

Okoye heard the click of his mask and saw his large hand resting it on her coffee table out of the corner of her eye before he craned his head down to press a feathery kiss to her shoulder, causing her to huff in amusement. 

"Attuma, we have been through this before. I will not break, you do not have to handle me as if I am made of glass," she insisted, a small smile forming.

"You can be delicate, Okoye. Your guard does not have to be up all of the time," he told her, voice lowering as he spoke to her. "You are allowed softness." 

"Softness is a luxury that I cannot afford," she told him, earning a disapproving grunt. 

"You can afford it. You just refuse to invest in it." 

Her eyes rolled. He had so much wisdom about him and she could hardly stand it. Another thing she "hated" him for. The two of them let silence fall over them for a few moments before he spoke again.

"I could not spend another moment with you unable to look at me, Okoye," he told her solemnly. "I need you to understand that I..." 

He trailed off, but Okoye nodded. She didn't need him to finish to know what he was going to say. They'd spoken it a thousand times without having to say anything at all. Okoye nodded at his silent declaration and allowed herself to sink into his touch, letting the silence wash over them once more as he peppered kisses along her shoulder blade. 

"I am sorry about Aneka. She is very protective of those she is close to," Okoye finally spoke, getting a short laugh out of him. 

Attuma pulled her closer to him, chin resting on her shoulder as he recalled Aneka's earlier threat. He figured he'd forgive her given that she didn't know the entirety of the situation, didn't know that he was willing to put his life on the line for her friend. 

"I understand," he told her. "You are worth protecting." 

Okoye's heart fluttered at that and she slowly turned her face to his, pressing her forehead to his. 

"As are you," she replied quietly, lips ghosting over his before he finally connected them, taking her in like it had been years since their last encounter with each other. 

Okoye decided to take the moment to forget, to have a break. She would figure it all out in the morning. How she could keep Shuri from making the most detrimental mistake of her life and how to keep Thandiwe alive would be business for later. For now, she decided it was okay that he drew a laugh from her when he picked her up, knowing she liked to walk on her own. The sound of it rang like music as he pressed kisses to her neck and made way to her bedroom. It almost felt unnatural to rip herself from her duties for a small moment of joy but she allowed it, allowed him to take her mind off of everything because he was the only one that seemed to be able to pull her away from all the things she felt so permanently attached to.

The spent the rest of their evening together tangled in each other, the sound of her soft gasps and his low grunts filling the room as they indulged in their moment of forgetting the rest of the world. 

When she pulled his face down to hers for a kiss, he let her take him in for a moment, not sure that anybody else in the world other than her really mattered anymore. Attuma broke the kiss, saw her eyes flutter shut as he pushed against a sensitive spot inside of her. His hand came to her cheek gently and turned her head before her leaned down to press soft kisses along the side of her face and temple. Slowly, he dragged his lips over to her ear, whispering in Mayan as his hips snapped into her. 

Okoye tightened her grip on his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life as he continued to chant quietly in her ear. She was still learning, but she knew enough to piece together what he was repeating like a prayer as he buried himself inside of her. 

My love. My heart. My life. My warrior.

taglist: @simpingforclaudette @amidalis @angel-of-death-2015 @amber-plans @goodluckdumbfuck @mikastarr222 @abbyeliza28 @skysynclair19 @midethefangirl @sunshinescribes

#okoye #attoye #okoye x attuma #attuma #marvel #mcu #alex livinalli #danai gurira #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #fanfic #fanfiction #theeblackmedusa

[a9saga]

😳😳😳💕

#i never thought they'd make another song like fast pace #this is the best song on the new ep #i also thought about posting hey buddy #because i added it to my 'songs i wanna steal ya girl to' playlist #i don't listen to that one it's really just a list #i have amish paradise on there too #but anyway #song rec #seventeen #jun #hoshi #woozi #wonwoo #i didn't post the spotify link because #i fuckin hate spotify links in web #i have to go to the desktop app and everyone knows spotify desktop fuckin blows 🙄 #shut up kaily #kaily talks about seventeen #oh also wish me luck on my calc quiz ✌ i'm out

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 01 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 2.8 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

Next part (02)->

{Vikings Masterlist}

×

Sailing Into The Unknown

Walking fast, you keep up with the two Norsemen coming right behind you. Unlike the rest of your maids, who were caught hiding or trying to leave the castle, you were found in your chambers. You knew they'd find you, one way or another, and you'll have much more to gain if you keep fear and despair away from your mind.

You knew this day would come. Your father, the King, was sure of it, and so were you. The political implications of King Ecbert and King Aelle in the last years brought you to this moment. An attack was imminent, and when you were told the Vikings were once again clashing on your cost like the waves, you knew this was inevitable. The only thing you can hope now is that they'll either let you live or give you a quick death. You're a threat, that's obvious. Aethelwulf may be the heir, but you're forth in line after his two sons. And that puts you in a dangerous position.

A yelp from one of your maids gets your attention, and you give her a look. You get why they're scared. These men look like monsters to them, speaking a strange language, dressed in dark, hard material, covered in blood. And everything they were told about the Norsemen, is that they're all savages. Worse than animals, soulless. Fortunately for you, one of the few things you actually wanted to do that your father allowed was to learn the Vikings language. Ecbert taught you himself, and you feel relieved to know what they're saying.

When you reach the main hall, you're pushed to the center, near a table. The maids all stick together, trying to pull you with them as they fall to the ground, using their skirts to dry off the tears. But you stand up, looking around. The place is flooded by them, the so-called monsters. Some are chatting, laughing even. Some of them have their eyes on you and on the other ladies. There's no way to know what will happen next, but you know who's in charge here.

The legend, the man they believe to be a descendant from the Pagan god, Odin. Ragnar Lothbrok. If you want to stand a chance to get out of here alive, that's the man you need to talk to. And, as if being called, he comes from the hall, alongside two other men. He looks, at the same time, exactly how your father described, but also very different. A paradox. His eyes scan the room, and, as you make your way over him, they lay on you.

One of the men who were with him come forward, standing on your way. Looking up, you sustain his stare. “I wish to speak with Ragnar.” You say, trying not to smile at the confused expression on the man's face. Nobody here expects you to speak their language.

“Princess (Y/N).” Ragnar sings songs, and the man steps aside. He has an axe in his hand, playing with it as he comes closer to you. “I was just having a small chat with your dear father.”

“Did you kill him?” The answer is obvious, but still, you need to know. The funny expression on his face changes and he pinches his eyebrows together “My father always said that, if he had to die at all, he'd like to be killed by you.”

“Oh.” He exclaims, glancing at someone behind you. “His wish was granted.”

Nodding to yourself, you look down. You have been preparing yourself for this moment ever since the news of Ragnar's return arrived, but still, your heart sinks a little. “Alright then.” It sounds stupid to ask him to simply let you go. This won't happen. Still, you don't want to face death scared, like your maids, crying and yelling. So, standing before Ragnar, you push your hair away from your shoulders, exposing your neck. “Do it already.” With both hands on your hips, you take a deep breath.

But Ragnar doesn't move, his lips break into a smile. Slowly, he leans closer, his mouth on your ear. “What are you doing?”

“I know you'll kill me. But I don't want to go like them.” Tilting your head at your maids, you shrug your shoulders. “I don't want to be taken as a slave either. So I guess that's it, king Ragnar.” Unlike him, you keep your voice as loud as before. You don't mind being heard.

“Do you–”

Ragnar is cut off by someone's shouts. Soon enough, a man comes, being held by two of the Norsemen. When they move a little, you recognize Edward, the man you were supposed to marry in a short amount of time. He's hurt, a black eye and a wounded lip. The men throw him on the floor, and he stands on his knees. Perhaps you should pity him... But no. It may not be kind of you, but you can't pretend you feel something you don't.

“Princess (Y/N), my lady.” He mumbles, trying to get to his feet and failing. “Stay away from them.”

Ignoring him, you turn to face Ragnar again. “As I was saying, there's no other option in this situation, so you might as well get done with it.” Giving the axe a look, you raise your eyes again. “I'm ready.”

“Don't be stupid, (Y/N)! Get away from him!” Edward shouts, and you run a hand through your hair, frustrated. Even now, he still tries to tell you what to do. You're tired of being ordered around. At least in death, you want to make it on your way.

“Shut up, Edward!” You burst out, moving to stand a few feet away from him, talking in his language since, of course, he wouldn't even dream of learning the pagans tongue. “It's over, don't you see it? We're both dying today, and honestly...” Now, you can say it. You can finally say it, and you can't help but smile. You'll be dead in a minute, but you never felt so... Free. “I'm happy my fate is to die by the Vikings... That's far better than marrying you.”

When you're done talking, Edward jerks forward, too fast, managing to grab your arm with one hand and hitting your face with the back of the other. You taste blood on your mouth, falling to the ground, but easily pushing yourself back up as the Norsemen pull him back, away from you. “You little whore!” He tries to set free, but it's useless. A laugh escapes your lips. “I'm so glad you'll die today. I'm so glad you'll join your devil of a father.”

With a hand on your jaw, you stare at him, shaking your head lightly. “You call then savages, but you were the only one in this room to hit me.” Turning away from him, you return to where Ragnar stands, watching the whole commotion. “So, king Ragnar?”

You can tell he's thinking. About what, you have no idea. From what you've heard, they don't need much thought before killing someone. “I could kill you right here, princess, but this speech you just gave got me interested.” Pacing around you, he swings his axe, resting it on his shoulder. “My wife, a former princess herself, might actually like you.”

“Aslaug?” A man says, and Ragnar looks at him. Following his gaze, you see a man with blond, dirty hair, pulled back in some kind of braid. “She hates Christians. I don't see how she'll like this one.”

“Well, I've never seen a Christian act like this. Have you, Bjorn?”

“No.” The man admits, eyes finally meeting yours, just before you look away from him.

“Well, my wife has been pissing me off lately, so anything that might distract her for a bit sounds like a good idea to me.” He speaks slow, and some people laugh. “So, Princess (Y/N). I will let you chose your fate.” He's back at your face, looking down at you. “Would you rather come with me to Kattegat, or would you rather die here, with your crying maids?”

Giving the women a look, you weigh the odds. Death is final, the very end. Life is full of possibilities... But are you willing to risk it? “Would you keep me safe? I mean...” Gesturing at the other men, you sigh. “I'm sure you understand what I mean.”

“Nobody touches the princess,” Ragnar yells, his voice echoing through the walls. “Is that enough?” He asks you in a much lower voice.

“I guess it is.”

That said, he walks away. Following him with your eyes, you see as he stops by Bjorn. Bjorn Ironside, his oldest son. His name is also well known here. Ragnar tells him something before disappearing, and his son gives you a look. It doesn't take long for you to understand Ragnar told Bjorn to keep an eye on you, since, as you walk down the beach to the boats, Bjorn silently walks beside you, like a bodyguard. He helps you climb up on to the boat, a strong hand on your waist, pushing you up.

When you finally start sailing, you get an idea of their army. Too many boats, filled with far too many warriors. You can't help but make your way to the back of the boat, watching as your home grows distant. But calling it home is a compliment. This was just somewhere you lived, surrounded by people who always expected something of you. Where you were forced to act a certain way, just because you were unlucky enough to be born a princess.

What's coming now, is completely unexpected, unforeseen. If anyone ever told you you'd be sailing away from Wessex, in a Viking boat, you wouldn't believe them. But the feeling that really gets to you, leaving you utterly perplexed is that you feel... Good. Free, even. You can't even count how many times you desired you could just disappear, leave everything behind and go somewhere entirely new. Maybe you're crazy, your mind completely lost already, but you somehow find joy in it. In sailing away, into the unknown, with the very people you were taught to hate and fear.

But this is far better than what your future was holding back there. An unhappy marriage with a disgusting man. This is far better.

Days after you left Wessex, a violent storm starts falling at daybreak. The rain comes lightly at first, but by the moment you stand up, it starts pouring. One of Ragnar's friends, named Floki, stays on the edge of the boat, holding on tight with one arm, the other stretched out. He's laughing, saying things you don't quite understand the meaning of. It's about Thor, and Odin, and othter of their gods. He seems unaffected by the crashing waves. Stumbling, you leave the protection of this dark fabric they hanged above the ship, getting on your knees next to Floki. You don't know what's soaking you, the rain, or the waves, high enough to hit the boat.

“Hear this, Princess?” Floki yells, trying to make himself heard above the deafening sounds. “This is–” A huge wave hits both of you, and Floki almost falls back. But he regains his balance, laughing even louder.

“Will the boat sink?” You ask him, yelling at the top of your lungs. “I can't swim! If we sink, I'll drown.”

“So will I,” Floki answers, glancing at you before turning his attention back at the ocean. This makes you burst into laughter too because you never thought someone who can't swim would face the waves like this.

“(Y/N)!” Someone calls, and you turn around, pushing wet hair away from your face. Bjorn comes your way, grabbing both your arms and helping you stand up. “What are you doing here?”

“She's mesmerized by the powerful waves!” Another wave, hitting both you and Bjorn as well. You're knocked down, your back against Bjorn's chest. But despite the sting you fell on your leg, Floki's laughter makes you giggle. These people are crazy. Nobody on Wessex would be this happy, this carefree in such a storm.

“Come.” Bjorn pulls you with him, back to the safety of the handmade roof. He helps you settle down, and as he does, you lock eyes with him. You've never seen blue eyes like this. “Stay out of the rain.”

“Floki is in the rain. Why can't I?” You snap back, not really enjoying the bossy tone.

“Let the girl have her fun, Bjorn.” You recognize Ragnar's voice, and you find him rowing, trying to keep the boat moving despite the violent waves. There's an empty seat beside him, so, pushing yourself up, you make your way there.

“Mind if I help?”

“If you think you can.” He breathes out, and you nod, grabbing the oar. “Keep it steady... Push, then pull.” He tells you, and you mimic his movements. The thing is heavy, and it takes only a few seconds for your arms to start hurting. But you keep up, ignoring the looks you're getting. No woman would be allowed to do such thing in Wessex. So you're enjoying it, even though you're strength is nothing compared to the rest of them.

When the heavy clouds are blown away, and the sky is once again blue and serene, you bend over the edge of the boat a little, just to better see where the ocean meets the sky, on the horizon. The chaos was replaced by a low chattering, laughter, and giggles. You're mostly on our own, not really speaking to anyone but Ragnar. He's a curious man, and he's curious about you. You're not sure why though.

“Here.” A voice makes you turn around, sitting down. Bjorn offers you a cup of water, which you take and drink after muttering a ‘thank you’. When you give him the empty cup, you wait for him to walk away so you can resume your horizon watching, but instead, he settles down beside you, letting out a heavy breath. “We'll reach Kattegat in a few days.”

“Finally.” You burst out, playing with the tips of your hair. “Sick and tired of this boat already.” Chuckling, you glance at him. He's already staring. “So... Bjorn Ironside. What are you doing talking to a Christian? People here don't really seem to be fond of me.”

“The truth is they're trying to figure you out.” Bjorn lowers his voice, and your eyes scan through the men. “Ever since you stood up with your neck exposed to my father's axe.”

It doesn't seem much of a big deal to you. “I just didn't want to die like those other girls. Whining and crying.” Shrugging your shoulders, you sigh. “I mean, I really thought there would be no other way, so I'd face death with some dignity.”

“Don't tell anyone I said this but...” He leans closer until you feel his breath on your ear. “You kinda sounded like a Viking right now.” Then, he stands up and leaves, back to his chores.

You're confused, to say the least, but you guess that was a compliment coming from a Viking himself. Taking a deep breath, you move to where you were, staring at the calming waves.

And Bjorn was right. Eight days after, you're arriving at Kattegat. The many boats stop at the decks, and yours is one of the first. There's a sea of people here, waiting for their loved ones. As you step out of the boat, you don't really know where to go. Everyone is hugging, kissing, telling about the successful raid. You just start walking then, following the flow until you feel someone grabbing your arm. “This way,” Bjorn says, tilting his head at where his father is going. “He wants to introduce you to Aslaug.”

The Queen who hates Christians. Great.

The main hall of Ragnar's house is full. First, he talks to the people, telling them everything they took, everything they found. There's a huge fire in the center, flames reaching high. You're at the corner, half-hidden behind Bjorn's shoulder, eyes flying through the place. You quickly recognize the Queen, seated on a chair beside Ragnar. She's very pretty, dark hair cut off to her shoulders. But she looks... Bored. Very uninterested in this.

By her side, close to the floor, you find a pair of eyes set on you. It takes you by surprise since you weren't expecting anyone to find you among all the people. But he did. Ragnar told you a little about him. His youngest son, Ivar, the Boneless. The cripple. It's not hard to recognize him, but your eyes don't search for his deformity. They're locked on his face, trying to read it, trying to understand why he won't look away.

Suddenly, everybody standing in front of you moves, creating a passage that leads to the very center of the hall. Glancing at Bjorn, you see when he gestures for you to go. And so you do, stopping only when you're standing before Aslaug. She doesn't seem very happy about it.

“And who this might be?” She asks, taking a sip from her cup.

“This is King Ecbert's daughter, princess (Y/N).” Ragnar answers. “She has some spirit, so I thought she'd make a good friend for you since you too were a princess once.”

“A Viking princess.” She snaps, looking you up and down.

You should probably say something, but what? The woman doesn't like you, and why would she? The big question now is what will happen to you next.

“(Y/N) isn't like the other women,” Bjorn speaks up, and you give him a look. He's pacing around, playing with a knife. “While her maids were sobbing and begging for their lives, she stood before Ragnar, accepting her fate. I've never seen one of their women do anything like that.” You don't get why he's doing this. Probably Ragnar's orders, or something like that. “She even helped with the oars when a storm reached us, after staying on the edge with that crazy ass Floki over there.” He gestures at the man, who loudly giggles.

“And what does this all mean?” Aslaug breathes out, clearly annoyed.

“Why don't you give her a chance, wife?” Ragnar sits back on his chair, taking Aslaug's hand. “Talk to her, see if there's anything in common and if you don't like her, well... I can send her to live with Lagertha.”

“Who's Lagertha?” You mutter, to nobody in particular.

But the name makes Aslaug sigh, and she stands up, putting the cup down. “Fine then. Come with me.”

With no other choice, you follow her inside. But on your way, you walk by Ivar, who's holding a clutch. You try hard no to, but your eyes find him nevertheless. He quickly looks away, and you keep walking, deciding not to give it much thought. He probably despises you like most of the people here.

Aslaug has some slaves prepare you a warm bath. And, much to your dislike, she stays in the room as you take off your clothes and step inside the tub. But it doesn't take long for you to relax as one of the girls starts washing and brushing your hair.

“Did you sleep with my husband?” The question comes with an angry voice, and you're not sure what startles you more. The anger or the question itself.

“Of course not.” She gets on your sight, pacing around.

“Do you want to sleep with my husband?”

Then, it clicks. She thinks Ragnar brought you here because he desires you. And that's a very dangerous thought for a Queen to have. “No, I don't.” Resting both your arms on the edges of the tub, you look up at her. “And even if he wants to sleep with me, I won't accept it. That's not the reason why I'm here.”

“And why are you here, so far from home, little princess?” She doesn't sound like she actually wants to know, but you get the feeling that this time you can actually say the truth. Here, there's no reason to keep it hidden, locked in. You can say how you feel about everything, even the things that could've got you imprisoned or even dead in Wessex.

“I'm willing to tell you if you're willing to listen, Queen Aslaug.”

At first, there's silence. But then, Aslaug drags a chair, placing it near the tub before sitting down. “Well, since I have nothing better to do at the moment, let's hear it.”

×

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @midnightmystic

#ivar the boneless imagine #ivar imagine #imagine ivar #ivar vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings x reader #imagine vikings #vikings imagine #bjorn imagine #Bjorn x reader #ivar fanfiction #ivar the boneless fanfiction #Vikings #vikings fanfiction

[imasimpforstevengrant]

I feel you

Author's note:

@raven-romanoff

@maristela1968

For you again, lovelies!

This is the first smut I write after almost two years. I hope you like it!

As always, sorry for any typos. English is not my first language.

____________________________________

Summary: Follow up to "I understand you".

As his strange relationship with Harleen oscillates between friendship and desire, Arthur takes the things to another level.

Warnings: angst, self hatred, mentions of masturbation, swearing, house breaking, strong sexual themes and smut.

Words: 6.258

Part 1:

Part 2:

____________________________________

Arthur couldn't sleep that night. His mind, overtaken by a growing confidence, tormented with new feelings for her created a dark, devilish smile in his face. He closed the door carefully, taking off his hoodie, shirt and shoes, wearing only sweatpants around the house, smoking a cigarette. He sat on the couch, knees bouncing. Something in his chest burns. That night Arthur felt different. He felt sure of his actions, instead of the usual anxiety and fear. Replaying the wonderful moment which he was the protagonist of, savoring every detail, while directing to the table. Her voice echoed through his head, her smile painting across his memory, the way she looked at him. His feet weren't able to keep still and Arthur knew this hyperventilation was caused by the shock of his first intimate contact with a woman. He already planned what he would do once they'd meet again. Probably to take her to dinner or simply going to the playground with a coffee and cigarettes to spend the night talking.

Handing himself his treasured journal, Arthur searched for the section dedicated to her. Grabbing a pen, he wrote her name. Misspelled, but affectionately.

Harlen Quenzel.

He tried in vain to write anything else, because his mind clouded basking in a bliss he had never felt before.

The blinding white light coming from above the kitchen hindered the happy replay of the image of Harleen coming closer to him to kiss his lips. But he simply turned it off. The tips of his fingers touched the dry flesh blessed by her mouth. Lighting a cigarette he fantasizes now. Taking her in the floor, in the bedroom or in the couch... She would love it. Arthur guaranteed himself that. The proof was clear: she had enjoyed his sudden and explosive display of passion. He suppressed a chuckle, afraid of another fit of laughter. But it did not go further. He stood in the dark for a while, before going to the couch to try to get some sleep. His mind was way too excited to even hold his legs still. The lucky loner grabbed the pack of cigarettes, smoking another one immediately after finishing the other one. Thing was, he couldn't consummate his passion in this moment... But he certainly could let his mind fly by thinking about Harleen and her virtues for now. Arthur headed to the bathroom.

A little joy given by himself wouldn't be so bad. ________________________________________

Over the next two months, the strange relationship between Arthur and Harleen grew from a friendship that had frequent outbursts of passion to long hours of talking about anything, from work to jokes.

As much as Arthur felt a silently uncontrollable lust for Harleen, he truly felt affection and caring for her. This was shown in small gestures like inviting her to dinner or waiting up late when her shift was over whenever neither of them would spend the entire night sleeping. They had each other and it was okay with that. In was in these situations where their bond grew. It was so ironic that the one thing that prevented an actual rest to his tormented mind also allowed to have the closest and most meaningful relationship he ever had in his life.

Arthur became more introverted than he already was. He didn't talk too much at work and had the growing tendency to isolate from others. To his co-workers this was probably another demonstration of his deteriorated mental state but Arthur was too busy trying to cope with these new feelings. He was asked more than once about this but he avoided to answer, limiting to reply he was okay. At the end of the day, the party clown left with a anxious pace. His co-workers were sure Arthur had finally lost his mind. And in some way, he did. Why was he in a rush? They would never know.

It was saturday when things changed. Arthur came back from a gig to Haha's with his clown make up on. Once in, he cleaned it from his face to leave without saying anything afterwards, too withdrawn into his daydreaming. He set a foot into the bus, as always, facing the window. The lights of daylight disappeared into the darkness or the night, rain pouring out. Arthur shielded from the cold sinking into his partly tattered hoodie. By this hour, Harleen should have been in her workplace. He just hoped no one would harm her at the time of her return. Arthur thought he could wait for her at the building's entrance, making sure she was safe. Harleen would like it.

He thought this weekend would be different. And Arthur had a very good reason why.

_________________________________________

It was Sunday when Arthur got up early to clean the house and to prepare breakfast for Penny to feed during the first lights of day.

It was in this way he could focus completely on his upcoming date at night. As the day vanished for nighttime to arrive, he put a cheap cologne on, his pants perfectly ironed. Same with the shirt and red vest. And the usual yellow hoodie Harleen learned to love so much. His excitement reflected in his voice as he waved goodbye to his always distracted mother, who simply waved back, not interested on how much brighter Arthur's eyes were in that moment. Heading to the door, he heard a frustrating ask:

"Happy, can you put this letter in the box?"

His shoulders lose strength. Arthur tried his best to hide his annoyance.

"It's for Thomas Wayne".

"I know, mom", the whisper was almost inaudible. Returning to the living room, he took the letter gently just to jump back to the door to free himself, "I'll be back at night".

She just nodded. And he finally breathed his freedom, feeling more confident than ever. But his sense of victory over the world vanished as he realized he still had that fucking letter in hand. A tired sigh leaves his lips. But he ran as fast as possible to reach the first floor to get rid of the piece of useless attempt to get attention from a man who maybe didn't remember her. The rusty locker received it and Arthur at last could set a foot outside the building, crossing his arms.

Harleen arrived a few seconds later. Arthur smiled, coming closer to her. Her outfit was unpretentious but neat: black pants and sneakers, a red wool sweater. Her hair was done into two colourful buns and a few strands which fell into her face. But the thing he liked the most was that blood red lipstick... And her grin made it better.

"Hello, clown man", Harleen nuzzled his nose tenderly. It was an habit he loved from her, as any other touch. He chuckled, greeting her back. Then both got out of the building, leading to the donut shop so they could have coffee and toast.

"So, how was your week?", Harleen asked as Arthur held his cup, drinking the steamy hot liquid.

"It was fine. I had a gig in a children's hospital. It turned out great because it was a charity event".

"Really?"

"Yeah. They were... Getting money for families that cannot afford to pay treatments".

Harleen nodded, warming her hands with the mug. Arthur then returned the question. Harleen told him the bar had more regulars than usual. This caught her eye, and paid very much attention to it during the weekly shift.

"What is it?".

"People are drinking their souls out" she replied, after eating her toast, "and that's not all. There was a recently fired guy that feared if Wayne is elected mayor, unemployment and riots will get worse."

Arthur lowered his head. He ate the toast to state:

"Why do so many people believe in that man, anyway?"

"He's rich, successful and an entrepreneur. Men like him have no idea how to run a city for the simple fact that entrepreneurs like him see people as numbers, not as complex sentient beings."

"How come?", Arthur fixed his collar.

"They only care for economy, Arthur. They disregard the fact that not everyone has the same chances for success they had and therefore any help for impoverished people is nothing but a "waste of money". Wayne is convinced that everyone who receives any kind of welfare doesn't want to work." Arthur remained silent for a while, processing what she just said.

"Men like him will never know what is like to be someone like you or me", Harleen concluded, finishing her coffee.

"But at least we have our jobs" Arthur commented comically.

"Yeah, as long as we get paid" and both laughed.

The shop was almost empty, which made easier to listen to the radio while talking. This gave them more topics to talk about. But then a song came out. Arthur knew it, he closed his eyes, engulfing himself in the gloomy tune of the song:

"King of all

Hear me call

Hear my name

Carnival"

Harleen did not interrupt. She understood that Arthur, as an extremely introverted person, couldn't be interrupted when exploring, talking or listening. It was pleasant to see him glad or enjoying things for once. She smiled as he mouthed the lyrics, which he knew perfectly. As the song came to an end, Harleen extended her hand, eyeing Arthur to look for his approval. As much as he enjoyed the sudden outbursts of affection, Arthur still wasn't used to publicly show it. Harleen comprehended as well and wouldn't force him to do it. She discovered it when going back from a previous date when she just held his hand. He became a blushing mess but it didn't go further, thank goodness.

Arthur noted the hand whose black and red nail polish established a hurtful contrast in comparison to her light skin. He then looked at her. He slid his own towards Harleen's. Their hands intertwined. Another little touch and he was already yearning for her. Arthur wanted to love her without words, without distance between them. Just the two of them. He wanted so much to tell her, but didn't dare to. Despite the fact he adored her, there was something he could never tell her... Yet.

There was something Arthur loathed about himself but he did his best to not to give it too much importance, choosing to focus on other things, instead. Arthur Fleck was a man and as such, he had needs. But the need wasn't the problem. Satisfying it was. He was comprehensive enough to understand that motherly affection was the closest thing he ever had to love. Devoid of any bond with anyone else, he frequently masturbated to soothe the sexual need. Usually to porn magazines whose pages he tore up to stick them in his journal. A fulfilling sexual life was a dream, far away from his reach. He could only see it but never take part in it, as it was with everything in his life. An eternal spectator, never a protagonist. Thinking of her, lusting after her... And he wasn't able to even mutter a fucking word. He cursed the emptiness roaming during all his life. Because he had nothing to offer her except desire. His inexperience was never a problem, given his surrender to embrace a life of solitude. Until now. Her arrival to his life made him remember how much of a man he was. And her kindness just fanned the fire within him.

Harleen squeezed his hand a little more, noting his unsettled nerve. Arthur sighed, out of the gloomy, bleak storm that creeped out as a dark mist in his mind. But her face shines as a small light of hope. Her eyes promised so many good things that he couldn't bring himself to believe.

"What's troubling you, Mr. Fleck?" her smile was accomplice, as if she knew what was lurking into the labyrinth of his mind, but wanting to hear it from his mouth.

"I just... I was thinking about...", Harleen encouraged him to tell her. He inhaled deeply, lighting a cigarette to cope with the newfound stress. Once again, his everlasting negative thoughts clouded the moment. The vocal cords were unresponsive. His hand broke contact with hers to hold his forehead, looking for the right words to speak. His knees bounced. Harleen leaned in, waiting.

"Artie?"

The tender pronunciation of the diminutive form of his name turned his gaze to her.

"I think I prefer to tell you... In private".

Harleen nodded. The response sounded too dark. And she knew that if Arthur talked like that, it was something serious. They left the donut shop, walking towards the subway. It was almost empty and dark. Just a few people were on it. The couple sit down, with Harleen tangling the arm around his to tilt her head on his shoulder. Arthur kept his eyes on the window, trying to figure out how the fuck he'd tell her about it.

As they reached the last stop, they left the subway station to step up the stairs and then Arthur reached a dirty, dark public restroom surrounded on the outside of a fence. Both stopped for a moment before the gnawed door. Harleen looked up to the party clown's dark features. He pronounced no words.

"Arthur?"

"There's something I need to tell you", his murmur comes shy, cast down.

"What is it?"

He stepped away from her. His hands clasp his mouth, disapproving his thoughts. He shook his head, eyes shut. Circling his own personal space, lightheaded. Harleen came closer to him.

"Is it bad?"

Arthur glared at her, guilty.

"I mean... I don't know how to tell you. I just hope you don't laugh at me".

"Why would I do that?".

Arthur half opened his eyes.

"I want...", It took a long, deep inhalation to pronounce the first part. He coughed, to clear his throat seconds later, "I need to tell you... That I really like you... And--", he silenced his words, trying to put them correctly in his mind.

"And?"

"See" he sighed, "I've..."

Harleen widened her eyes in anticipation.

"I've been thinking about you a lot... and I would be lying if I tell you I don't want something else".

"What is 'something else'?" Harleen whispered.

Arthur processed the question. And then answered:

"It's just..." He brushed the small beads of sweat on his forehead with the palm of his hand, "I love the way you touch me, Harleen" Arthur continued, "and I simply can't get enough of it".

"Because we both need it, Arthur. I love just as much as you do. That makes it so satisfying", he chuckled, humbled. Harleen expected more of him.

"That's not all", he gazed not to her. This was the one moment that could end it all or strengthen this precious bond of theirs.

"Arthur" she called him, "don't be afraid. Please tell me".

"I want to sleep with you", Arthur finally confessed, gazing at her. His eyes confirmed the statement. He blinked slowly, wanting her to see the animalistic yearn on them.

Harleen stared at him, shocked of how much he trusted her to confess something so intimate. His breathe had shortened. His green eyes glowed like emeralds, embellished even more with his pupils dilated. The blonde invited him inside the bathroom so they could keep baring their souls. Arthur inspected the place to make sure it was completely safe to stay there. Harleen locked the door once they knew it was unoccupied.

"I don't want to beg for love" Arthur said, his voice raspy, "but I don't want to lie to you. I want to know if you feel the same" Arthur spoke in a very low voice. Harleen looked at him, infatuated before this new dark vibe from him. He looked like a totally different person. Her fingers slid into his curls.

"I knew it already, Arthur."

"And why doesn't it bother you?"

"Because I can understand why you want it".

Arthur turned to her. Never in his life he felt more expecting. Harleen explained, in very simple terms, that she found his attachment understandable: Arthur had been deprived of love during all his life and this new bond made him feel important. From becoming visible and cared for to reaffirm his manhood through sexual desire. Arthur heard every word carefully, and it made sense. Everything made fucking sense. It was through sexual intercourse that men felt loved.

Love.

It was always about love, at the end of all.

Harleen returned the cigarette to him.

"Don't blame yourself. You're a human, after all. Sex is the most pleasant of human activities, so don't feel bad for enjoying it".

"It's not that I don't enjoy it. I don't feel ready to do it, despite of how much I want it".

Harleen frowned, and her silence just made Arthur confess one of his most (if not the most) shameful secrets. Only now she knew the extent of her impact in his life. She knew a lot about him, including the seven medications he was in, but this? She had been aware of the way he looked at her, but hearing him actually admitting it out loud made her shudder. Her arms locked around his shoulders to pull Arthur to a kiss in the cheek.

"It's not a race or a competition. You just feel and act according to your instincts. Also, I'd be lying too if I said I don't want anything else" Arthur sank his eyes into Harleen's, "quite frankly, we were close to have sex the night we first talked if it wasn't because I was too tired to do so, but now, if you don't feel ready to do it, I won't pressure you to do anything".

"Starting a friendship in that way? I like it" he hummed, mischievous.

"We are not friends... Because... Friends are not supposed to touch each other. That's what lovers do. But... We aren't lovers, yet" Harleen whispered.

"Then what are we?" Arthur asked.

"We are, Arthur. We simply are" this time her kiss directed to his mouth. _________________________________________

Arthur changed his damp clothes to avoid the cold. The bedroom TV was turned on as well as the hall lights. The usual. He prepared the dinner for his mother, bathing her and making sure she'd go to bed. The conversation was the same. Thomas fucking Wayne and the fucking letters. Arthur had no interest on losing energy on nonsense, so he only nodded. He took a shower and shaved the growing beard and wore his grey sweatpants. A few observations written in the pages of the journal about his day at Haha's and Arthur felt his routine was finished, therefore he could count down to the moment when Harleen was back at home from work. His eyes darted at the clock. 1:14 am. Less than two hours for her return. He felt confident enough to go to her apartment and stay all night with her. He smoke five cigarettes in the meantime, walking over the house. Turning the TV on so time wouldn't pass so long. He sat at the couch, waiting for an old rerun of Murray Franklin's Show. An actor was to be interviewed but he couldn't focus entirely on it. He laid down. His mind pictured her beside him. However, as much as he cherished all the physical and emotional affection from her, it wasn't enough anymore. It was hard to accept it but that's just the way it was. As the show ended, an old movie ran. Arthur turned the device off. The clock sets the time: 2:24 am. Less than hour. He got up, turning the lights off, hoodie in hand and determination in his mind. Locking the door, Arthur left. He walked across the halls, stepping down to the destination: 7H. The door was unlocked, much to his surprise. The loner felt truly in home. If only she was in there for him to shower her in his affection. But he then realized the neon lights were on. His heart skipped a beat. The air seemed... Different. He stood as quiet as possible to see what was going on. The rain slightly broke the total silence that ruled the place. Arthur reached the living and then, only then, he saw her.

Harleen was placidly sleeping on the couch, wearing a two part, peach coloured pajamas. Her mane was a mess of white, blue and pink strands that fell over her face. Her head rested on a pillow and her pose revealed how comfy her sleep was. Kneeling beside the couch, Arthur leaned over her face, his fingers set aside the colourful mane to obtain the beautiful vision of her peaceful facial expression. His thumb glided over her lips, which he soon joined with his. It was slow, intimate kiss, full of subtle hunger.

Seconds later, her hands cupped his face to make the caress steadier, humming playfully. Arthur broke the kiss to eye her. Half sleep, Harleen smiled at him.

"Hey" he called, secretive.

"Good night, Mr. Fleck", she muttered, voice pasty, "another insomnia night?" but he shook the head.

"I thought you weren't here. I couldn't help it", he muttered.

“Never said I mind. Bar closed earlier and here I am”.

“Really? Why?”

“The riots, Arthur. Boss preferred to send us home before any damage could be done by the protesters”.

Arthur made room for himself in the cozy, fluffy long couch. Asking if she was okay, Harleen just replied she took a taxi to make home safely. Arthur sighed, relieved. The blonde smiled at him but didn’t move any further. He noticed that, blaming for being so inconsiderate. Getting into her apartment and disturbing her rest like that? What a awful friend (lover) he was! Recoiling with guilt and diving again in the brooding mood so typical on him, he distanced from his love. She fell asleep once more. Arthur kept his gaze on her, tracing invisible touches in her curves. She was so close yet so far. He wanted to be a part of her, to be with her.

Inside of her.

The calloused fingers held his face to wash away the shame. The nerves were too much to take. The laugh gestated in a noise initially deaf to hear from afar to a thunderous fit. Harleen jolted at the sudden outburst. Arthur couldn’t feel worse. The expression on his face was so desperate for silence that the blonde immediately went after him when he shrugged, attempting in vain to drown the horrible noise that made his vocal cords bleed. Harleen dissuaded Arthur of any idea of escape just to hold him. The mentally ill loner sank his face into her neck. The embrace didn’t stop the scandalous explosion to keep shattering the quietness of the place, sensing Harleen squeezed his faint figure, seemingly trying to put every piece of his broken yet beautiful soul to help to soothe the pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“

Her voice hushed his apologize. As the din disappeared into nothingness, both returned to the living room on the couch but Arthur took a step back from her.

“Why?”

Puzzled, Harleen frowns. She gave him space to recover.

“Why what?”

“Why me?”, Arthur regained strength to ask her, staring at her for a long period of time, “of all men you can have, why me?”

For the first time, Harleen seemed upset.

“If you think I do this out of pity, you are very, very wrong” the fire in her eyes was fascinating.

“Then why?”

Harleen processed the question while Arthur desperately awaited the reason to be verbalised.

“Please”.

She gulped.

“Because you’re a good man, Arthur”.

The response was too simple to be believable, though it was grateful to hear a compliment from her. Desiring more, his stare pierced her soul, to let her take the hint. Imprisoned under the green spell of his, Harleen proceeded to continue:

“I mean- you are always trying to make people laugh, yet people don’t see you and you still continue. You love what you do, you have been kind to me, you care about your mother putting your well-being aside. Don’t you think that is worth enough?”

Arthur shut his eyes, his head to the left, lighting a cigarette while the bouncing knee betrayed his feeling of unsettlement. Harleen noticed it. Wind took words away. Actions prevailed in time.

Time! That’s precisely what he needed. Both battled uneasiness in their own, unique way. While Harleen on her own end of the couch thought on a way to help him, Arthur tried to give order to his convulsed mind. He constantly touched his forehead and chest but never dared to eye her, terrified that she would vanish. The damn cigarette placed again on his lips. The muteness grew so uncomfortable the loner returned to glare at the blonde. She slowly approached to him, searching in his face his approval to get closer. Afraid to disturb his personal space in the same way someone would be cautious when getting closer to a wild animal. Arthur gasped, his blood boiling in what seemed the exact moment that would define his life. Harleen crawled to him, reaching his shoulders to concrete her goal: sit in the space between his legs.

If Arthur believed that just a hug put him on fire, this new contact aroused him to the point of insanity. The blonde crowned the physical bond placing her head in the crook of his neck. The temptation to take her and possess her now was insufferable but he found the will to not give in into the impulsive reaction. How? He’d never know. His heart rate was so violent, so overwhelming that the threat of a heart attack was becoming more real. Harleen placed her hand on his chest, like caressing his damaged heart like a mother would do with an scared child. His lungs finally caught a calmer rhythm as minutes went by. Arthur craved new touches, new discoveries, yet he wanted to remain like this forever. He savoured the closeness of their bodies… but it wasn’t enough. Harleen surely knew it by the moment Arthur stopped smoking.

And whenever Arthur Fleck stopped smoking, it meant something serious got his attention.

As the last fire on the cigarette died on the ashtray, Arthur turned his focus completely on her. He’d return her the favour, since she invaded his personal space so shamelessly. Harleen distanced a bit from him to allow the hoodie to come off. She approved the sight with a wide smirk: despite what people could say about his figure, Arthur was not as thin as his outfit revealed. His bare upper body had a plenty of muscle in the biceps. She traced a finger across the aforementioned part to touch his jawline now, going down his neck and collarbone. Next, a nuzzle against his face to continue the intimate bond, brushing her lips with his, without kissing him. However there was no further reaction from him except for a serene look on his face at the caresses. As the touch came to an end, she kissed his mouth repeatedly, her lips curved into a smile. The gesture motivated his instinct to get the better of him. He rose his dark, thick eyebrow to let her know how much of an accomplice he turned out to be, like a warning of what he had planned for her.

It was almost a ritual. Whenever a situation turned out to be too unfamiliar or too good, his hands would act as the link to confirm his psyche wasn't playing tricks with him. But this wasn't only a situation. This was a person who unchained a situation. And how he thanked every second of it. It seemed a spark of happiness enlightened his life, for once. Probably because even fate believed that no human being should be so miserable. He needed a constant reaction from her to keep convincing himself this wasn’t a dream. To increase the enjoyment of his hands touching her, Arthur executed a move directed to her chest, gliding his hands over her breasts, covered by the thin fabric of the sleeveless shirt. Harleen gasped, eyeing the curious hands as they roamed upon that delicate part of her. Arthur was fascinated, as his grin evidently brought out.

Since he had understanding about sex, Arthur craved a woman’s touch. It began as wet dreams, continuing with the subsequent discover of porn, a source he always went to in order to provide himself a little satisfaction. He remembered the particularly unhappy time of highschool, where bullying and harsh looks were a routine. The laughing fits during class, boys from all ages mocking at him during recess. But lunchtime was the worst part. If he wasn’t beaten up, his food paid the price. Starving and tired, Arthur was relieved in part by dropping school. He wouldn’t have to deal with the brutality of his classmates anymore. Girls usually avoided him, scared by his weak appearance. He never asked a girl for a date, afraid to be taken as a pervert. He just repressed any sexual need, feeling like a depraved creep for being curious about female body.

The mental drift continued for a couple of minutes when he noticed that Harleen wasn’t too quiet now, her shortened breath revealing an intense joy at his touch. As it happened always in a moment of adrenaline, through his arms an herculean strength ran so intensely that made her sit on his lap with no problem. The most exciting part of this new bold position was that he could face his lover, aiming his interest to her neck, covering it with slow, paused kisses. Harleen supports on his shoulders, delighted at his intimate exploration. Her shortened breath became a heavy panting while the latter morphed into a loud moan. Arthur immediately looked up to the blonde, her mane tickling his face. Did he caused such wonderful reaction? Him? Arthur Fleck, the perpetual loser, the unfunny clown, the embodiment of what a man should never be?

Suddenly, the grip loosened. Arthur felt he couldn’t concentrate anymore on Harleen in the same way. A sensation similar to fainting snatched away the energy on his arms. A surge of boiling blood flowed down his groin.

Arthur knew what this meant and her thighs straddling his hips, exactly where his searing intimacy reacted to such delectable recreation.

This encouraged him to let his wildest side come out. The pale hands lifted the shirt to the level of her neck, obtaining her bare chest to devour while getting into the inner part of the shirt, leaving the barrier between skin and fabric behind his back. Harleen reared up before the fulminant demonstration of lust, screaming while clawing at his shoulders. She felt his mouth, eager and famished, assiduously paying dedication to her soft sinuosities. The position enabled her to coddle him as well.

Because he fucking deserved it.

Her fingers stirred the dark curls under the cloth, begging for more. When Arthur felt the arousal was too much to keep building it up to simple caresses, he threw the shirt aside to obtain her upper nude body to admire. His eyes widened as the glimpse was even more beautiful in reality than in his fantasies. He hummed, approving the sight, too anxious to take her and yet so insecure if she’d be satisfied.

The blonde tugged into his belt, making clear her desire to pursue a deeper insight of their relationship. Her body performed a subtle movement to make him lay down on his back. As Arthur got rid of his clothes, so she did. Once she reached her own full nudity, he covered his mouth, amazed. Forget the models in his journal. Harleen had no comparison. And she probably knew it.

“Do you like what you see, mister Fleck?” she purred, seductive. He panted, regaining the oxygen to answer.

“Yes” was all he answered. Arthur could hardly speak at this point. His eyes said everything, anyway. The tease was a gift before the beloved blonde climbed atop him. Arthur helped her, grabbing her by the hips he longed so much to trace his fingers on.

Harleen leaned over his face to grant it a last kiss, enjoying this final step preceding to the loss of individuality.

She seemed so unreal, even when her full weight upon him proved wrong. And he knew exactly what to do to prove his psyche otherwise.

The last trace of doubt disappeared completely as his own sex found itself inside of her at last. The insertion was very slow, no rushes, so both lovers could memorize every sensation. The pressure around his hardened length turned out to be a pleasure beyond the thinkable, causing a shuddering, fastened breath to crumple his lungs. He arched his back, a loud, pleasurable moan escaping his mouth. As he got used to the warm welcome she gave him, his hands held her hips to proceed. Harleen lolled her head back, moaning softly, rejoicing at his presence inside of her delicate womanhood. Stillness held their bodies together as they enjoyed the sensation brought by the union.

Arthur recovered from the initial shock before the long desired loss of his hated celibacy started to take place. Harleen, naked much to the delight of his eyes, had her white, porcelain skin beautifully shaded by the pink and blue dim neon lights. Arthur smirked at her, admiring her body with his hands, not to convince himself that he was not hallucinating but to make sure to tell her how much he had desired to do this.

Just then Harleen did her magic.

“Let me show you that you’re not invisible”.

The rhythm worked in a slow pace. The blonde’s masterful moves made him moan and groan loudly as she straddled his hips. Everything he imagined with her appalled in comparison to this. Harleen, so provocative and prodigious, was so delicate in this erotic surrender. Like almost floating in the air. Arthur wondered how much it could take until reaching the peak of the carnal pleasure. But the obnoxious thud that beat his brain even in this moment found itself defeated by this lovely and pleasurable novelty, eventually. Watching Harleen on top of him was an irresistible landscape and Arthur couldn’t be more grateful for it even if he tried.

And her moans didn’t help either. Harleen was too lost in the moment to even talk to him, restricting her vocal expressions of pleasure just to plead for more.

Arthur plunged in this novelty to feel like a man for the first time in his life. He chuckled, joyful. His concentration centered exclusively on her. Harleen was a living mess of ecstasy, away from reality. He couldn’t love her more, specially when she called his name. The grip on her hips became tighter, as the warm space that surrounded his arousal narrowed. Her moans arose to louder screams. Now that was something he wanted to hear, sliding his fingers up to her waist to her chest.

The sense of control began to disappear eventually.

The instigation inspired a new move from Arthur, who got up to enclose her waist to absorb her essence. Fastening the moves, the blonde threw her arms to his neck, increasing the union as much as they were able. Their screams echoed through the apartment, announcing the proximity of the climax.

The final frenzy took ahold of the lovers. It hit Harleen first, as the convulsion whipped her insides, her figure trembling.

Arthur was convinced his soul was living his body at the time of his climax. While Harleen allowed him to flood her with his seed, he held her hips to keep inside her the longest time possible. The passionate, fulfilling embrace that served as the conclusion to the act recomposed their sense of reality. Once the physical bond was broken, the lovers laid back in the couch. Arthur still had a hard time recovering from his first sexual experience. His lungs finally eased down as Harleen reassuringly talked to him. Arthur opened his eyes, to smile to her.

“That…” he stuttered, breathless, “that… was… fucking sensational”.

Harleen supported her head in her hand.

“Couldn’t agree more”.

Arthur smiled and didn’t resist the temptation to sink into her arms, awaiting for sleep to come. He gave himself in completely, handing his vulnerability to her. Harleen sighed, palming his back. Arthur recoiled in pain and she didn’t hesitate to apologize.

“What’s this?” Harleen was going to get up to check him out but he prevented it, shaking his head. Apparently it didn’t have too much importance for him.

“I want this” his whisper sounded legitimately grateful. He took her hands to kiss them dearly, “I want this”.

She nodded and then changed her position so Arthur could place himself upon her. Her open arms received his fragile, starving shape to grant it comfort, like remind him of how much of a man he could be. The loner muttered something, but Harleen was already sleeping. Arthur didn’t move at all, silently enjoying her chest moving up and down. He planted a kiss above her right breast and closed his eyes.

The rain intensified. And Arthur fell asleep in a state of complete inner peace for the first time in his life as the pink lights dissipated into black as his eyes slowly closed.

It was the most beautiful darkness he’d ever been in.

#joker #joker movie #joker film #joaquin phoenix joker #joker 2019 #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck imagine #arthur x harley #arthur fleck #harley quinn #joker x harley #harleen quinzel #dc comics #dc edit #jokeredit #arthur x reader

[treasure7boys]

This Magic Moment || Park Jihoon

♡♡♡♡

Type: Fluff {Requested}

Word Count: N/A

Warning: Jihoon is just the sweetest 😭

Description: A night of crying turns out to be the best night of your life

♡♡♡♡

Another soft sob escaped your lips. The stress of school had finally cracked you and all your bottled up emotions finally spilled over. As you lied on your bed in the dark with your window open, you let your tears spill but tried to remain quiet so you wouldn't wake your parents.

Meanwhile, Jihoon and some of the other trainees were just arriving home from training. They chatted blandly due to their exhaustion as they changed out of their sweaty clothes. "Do you guys hear that?" Yoonbin questioned.

They fell quiet and were then vaguely able to hear your sobs. "It's that Y/N girl next door, right?" Jaehyuk questioned. He looked at Jihoon. "You're friends with her, right Hyung?

Jihoon nodded. "I'll call her," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Your phone began vibrating at a steady pace, signalling a phone call. Checking the caller id, you saw it was Jihoon. Quickly, you sat up and began wiping your tears away. Pressing the answer button, you tried your best to calm down. "Jihoon," you answered. "Is something wrong?"

"We could hear you crying, Y/N. You don't need to hide it."

Of course, that only made you start crying all over again. Crying was funny like that. Whenever someone familiar appeared, it was like your crying only got worse. Maybe, just maybe, those were also tears of joy.

You sniffled, "It's just stress from school. No need to worry."

Jihoon sighed, only worrying more after you said that. "Hey, let me take you somewhere," he suddenly said.

Checking the clock, you saw it was just past midnight. "Where are we going at midnight?" You asked. "Can't you get in trouble."

"We'll be okay. Meet me by the stairwell in 10 minutes."

You didn't get to press him any further because he ended the call. Letting out a sigh, you set your phone down. Your pajamas probably wouldn't be the best outfit to wear out. Slowly, you pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans, a white T-shirt, and then a denim jacket. Shoving your sock clad feet into your white Converse, you shoved a few things you thought you might need into your backpack purse. Checking the time on your phone, you saw that you needed to go.

Quietly, you snuck through the apartment and out the door, locking it behind you after sticking a note to the door. You'd be in totalt trouble of your parents caught you but at least they'd know you weren't kidnapped.

"Hey," you greeted Jihoon at the stairwell.

He saw your eyes were a bit swollen and your nose was a bit pink. Without saying anything, he pulled you into his arms, giving you a comforting hug. Neither of you said anything as you stood there embracing each other.

Eventually, he broke the hug. He smiled at you as he said, "Come on, let's go."

Grabbing your hand, he led the way down the stairs. He held your hand tightly as you two walked somewhere. You still had no idea what was going on and Jihoon still refused to give any details.

"What are we doing here?" You stared up at the YG building. "I don't think I should be here."

He shook his head. "It's fine, now hurry up."

Tugging at your hand, the two of you got into an elevator. He pressed a button, still not releasing your hand. The doors opened and you realized he was taking you to one of their practice rooms.

"Oh, hi, Y/N," Byunggon greeted with a sweet smile. His eyes trailed down to your guys' hands.

You smiled back. "Hi, Oppa," you greeted. You were somewhat close with the boys Jihoon had been training with for a while, especially Yedam.

"Come on," Jihoon whined, once again pulling you along with him.

As he went to open one of the doors, it opened from the other side. "Oh!" Hyunsuk exclaimed, surprised. His surprised expression was soon replaced by a happy one. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hi, Oppa," you smiled. Yedam jogged over and gave you a huge hug. You greeted the other boys as they exited the room. "Jihoon, what are we doing?"

He shut the door behind him. "I called in a little favor," he confessed, turning the lights off. The room was once again lit up by some twinkle lights hanging around the room.

You gasped softly, "Wow."

A victorious smile painted his face. "The guys did this, that's why they were in here. I told them you were upset and asked them for their help."

Your eyes twinkled. "It's beautiful, Jihoon. I cannot believe you guys did this for me."

"Wait, it gets better," he said. He went to unplug the lights, plugging in a lamp. When he turned the lamp on, the room looked as if you were outside looking at the stars. Once again, you were completely in awe. "Let's lay down."

Nodding, you lied down on the practice room floor and Jihoon lied down right next to you. The two of you stared up at the ceiling, feeling at peace with the world. "Sometimes I wish I was a star," you confessed softly. "They light up the dark and people are almost always happy when looking up at the stars. I want to be like a star and bring light during dark times and make people smile."

Jihoon turned his head, looking at your twinkling eyes as you stared up. He smiled, "Well, if that's the case, then you're my star, Y/N."

You blushed slightly. "W-what?"

He nodded as music began to play, figuring out that it was the other boys doing it. It sounded like Yedam or Junkyu's playlist. "You're my star, Y/N," he repeated. "When I'm sad, you always cheer me up. You were there for me when I left YG and you were there when I got back in. Whenever I see you, I can't help but smile. I'd say your wish is already a reality."

A smile immediately appeared on your face. Jihoon's words were probably the sweetest ones you had heard in your life. "Thanks, Jihoon," you said so softly that Jihoon even wondered if you spoke at all. "You're my star, too."

That made him smile even wider. You loved his smile. His smile was one of your favorite things on the planet. The song changed and "As The World Falls Down" by David Bowie began to play. Jihoon stood up and held his hand out to you. "May I have this dance?" He questioned.

Letting out a giggle, you placed your hand in his and he helped you up to your feet. He pulled you in close, causing your heart to beat faster. His hands fell on your hips and your own arms wrapped around his neck. You began slow dancing to the song.

As the song played and the two of you danced, Jihoon couldn't help but feel it was his perfect chance to confess his feelings. "Thanks for tonight, Jihoon. I was really upset earlier but tonight has been the best night I've had in ages," you confessed. He smiled down at you, glad he was able to cheer you up.

Once again, silence fell over you two. All you could think about was how romantic and intimate the whole situation felt. Thinking about Jihoon and you actually being a couple made your heart beat fast again. "I think I'm falling in love with you," Jihoon confessed in such a soft, hushed voice.

Looking up to make eye contact, you couldn't believe your ears. Was Jihoon some kind of mind reader? Your heart was pounding so violently that you could hear it in your ears. Without speaking a single word, you stood on your tip-toes and placed your lips on Jihoon's. He smiled into the innocent kiss, taking it as a good sign.

When you pulled away, Jihoon pulled you in closer and you rested your head on his chest. A content smile painted your face. Once the song ended, you pulled away. Checking the time, you realized you needed to get home. You voiced this to Jihoon and he agreed.

Shutting the lights off, the two of you left. Jihoon's phone began blowing up. "Who is that?" You questioned, worried he was in trouble.

He snickered. "Just Seunghun and them wondering how it went. I kind of planned on confessing to you tonight."

You grinned at the thought of him lying in bed at night trying to think about how to confess to you. "Well, I'm sure they'll be excited to hear the good news."

A smile tugged at his lips and he nodded, feeling as light as air. When you finally got back home, you kissed his cheek good night. He practically floated back home and found all the guys waiting anxiously to hear the news.

As you got into bed, you couldn't help but think about how the horrible night had turned into one you would never forget.

♡♡♡♡

A/N: Ah, sorry this request took me so long! I had so many ideas and I started writing all of them but none seemed to take. Anyway, this one finally came to mind last night and I just wrote it without questioning my writing skills. I hope it was good and I hope the requester is satisfied 😊 If not, I'll gladly write a different one 💕💕

#yg #yg entertainment #yg treasure box #ygtb imagines #ygtb #ygtb scenarios #ygtb trainees #treasure a #treasure j #treasure b #treasure c #park jihoon #silver boys #yg silver boys

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 05 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 2.5 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

<- Previous part (04)

Next part (06)->

{Vikings Masterlist}

×

The Crippled And The Blind

The loud voices, laughter, and yells are echoing through the house. Ragnar is with a group of wanderers that just stopped by. He seems to be getting along with them since they're all very friendly and brought good things to trade. You have no intention of interrupting the conversation, so you stay on the inside. You make your way to the hanging table, sitting on it as usual. You're still softly swinging when you hear Ivar's unmistakable footsteps, and a small smile comes to your lips. You do try to push it back, but when he comes to your sight, it's still there, in full display.

“Won't you join the party?” He asks, coming to stand next to you by the table, his free hand holding on the chains.

“No. If I show up out there, Ragnar will introduce me as an England princess and I wouldn't want to steal all the attention he's been getting.” You answer in a sassy tone, shrugging your shoulders. “What about you? I bet they'd love to meet Ivar the Boneless.”

His smile only gets bigger, and a chuckle leaves his lips. Things with Ivar have been... Different. In the last weeks, you've been chatting a lot, more and more every day. But you're keeping a distance. The stories about Ivar reached your ears quickly, and you know he's dangerous. Still, it's getting hard to see that side of him when he's been treating you so... Kindly. It got people talking too. Hvitserk said Ivar is surprising him, acting like that. But you try not to overthink, and just take one day after the other and see how it happens. So far, you're enjoying your talking.

“Let the old man have it.” He mutters, pushing the wood and making you swing again. “I was planning on taking a walk on the beach.” Speaking slow, he smirks at you. “Wanna join me?”

Biting your lower lip, you nod, jumping to the ground. “Why not?”

You both go through one of the doors on the back, and you realize Ivar can keep a fast pace despite the clutch. The cold wind makes you brace yourself by the time you reach the sand, and you lightly rub your arms.

“Should've brought a warm cloak.” He mutters, glancing at you.

“I'm alright.” Pulling a strand of hair away from your face, you stop by a small boat. “What's the reason for this?”

“Reason?”

“Yeah.” Leaning your back against the boat, you shrug your shoulders. “You never invited me for anything like this.”

“Maybe it was because I never thought you'd accept.” Sighing, he sits on the sand, resting the clutch on his legs.

“And why would you think that?” Looking down at him, you cross your arms. “I thought we were somehow friends by now.” You're still unsure of where exactly you are with Ivar. With Hvitserk, it was almost instantly, and you've been good friends since day one. Ubbe took longer, but you have a nice relationship with him as well, even though you're not as close as you are with Hvitserk. But Ivar... It's different, you're still not quite sure why. “Or have I misread things?”

“I like to think we are friends, princess.” When you finally look at him, those blue eyes are already set on you.

With your cheeks burning, your heart starts beating faster, drumming on your ears. “We are.” You assure him, taking a deep breath and settling down beside him, looking at the ocean. The waves are strong today, loudly crashing on the sand.

“Good.” He bumps his shoulder against yours. “Not many women want to... Hang around with me.”

His statement makes you pinch your eyebrows together. “Why?” You can't imagine a reason for any girl not want to... What? Be around Ivar? Or maybe have some attention from him. Of course you can only speak for yourself, but the Vikings must be mesmerized by his strength. By the stories they tell about him. And on top of that, you're not blind. Ivar is handsome, very handsome. Any woman would love to get his eyes set on her.

“Isn't it obvious?” Ivar gestures at his legs and only then this ‘obvious’ come to your mind.

“Oh.” Staring at the metal clothed legs, you shake your head lightly. It never really got to you. It's not that you haven't noticed, but it never played an important part in your judgment of him.

“Bad news, princess. I'm a crippled.” He sing songs, his voice a lot darker.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you push your legs up, hugging your knees. “I know you're a crippled. But being honest, I don't see the problem.” It isn't hard to guess this affects him. Mostly being a Viking. You know he wishes he could rush through the battlefield, fighting, riding a strong horse. But he can't. It probably kills him inside.

“Then I'm the crippled and you're the blind.” He suddenly snaps, and when you look at him, he's shaking his head no. “Don't be stupid. Every woman here wants an Ubbe. Or a Bjorn. Standing tall and strong, well experienced by the many wars they–”

“You're tall.” Cutting him off, you elbow him. “And I know you can fight. People aren't terrified of you for no reason. So drop it, you're not less of a Viking just because you can't walk as other people can.”

He chuckles, and when his eyes meet yours, you suddenly notice the proximity. You're not that close, but you were never this close... “Are you joking?”

“No.” You honestly answer, smiling. “I get that people look at you and see the legs first. But I didn't. I...” Will you really tell him this? You've been lying and hiding so many things from people while on Wessex, and here, you want to do the exact opposite. You want to speak the truth, whatever the truth is because nobody will curse you for it. And maybe, it'll make Ivar feel better. “Actually, the first thing I noticed were your eyes.”

“Really?” Furrowing his eyebrows, you can tell he's not very convinced.

“Really.” You simply say.

“You're pretty stupid then.” Ivar bursts out, but, as much as you feel a little offended at first, you're quick to get the mocking tone behind it. “You see a crippled and the thing that gets your attention is the eye color.”

“I'll ignore the insult.” Nodding to yourself, you bite back a laugh, looking at the ocean again. “But if that's your opinion, I'll accept it.”

“You're both.”

“Both?”

“Both pretty and stupid.”

“I...” It takes a few seconds to process what he just said. You're still staring at the horizon, not brave enough to face those eyes, strong and bright, burning through your skin. Your cheeks are burning again, so you look down at your hands, hoping the hair that falls will hide your blushing face. “It goes both ways.” Taking a deep breath, you stand up, dusting off the sand from your dress. “You're as stupid as you're handsome.” Sustaining his stare for a while, watching as his face light up and a smile comes to his lips, you turn your back at him, walking away. You hear a giggle, but decide to ignore it.

“I didn't know you could be sassy.” Ivar raises his voice to make himself heard through the growing distance you're putting in between the two of you.

“You don't know me, dear.” Turning around and walking backward, you smile. “What? Do you think chatting during the meals is enough? You have no idea who I am.”

“Who knows? Maybe we can change that.”

“Maybe.” Shrugging your shoulders, you give your back at him and leave the beach.

The next hours you spend with Aslaug, as she complains about the wanderers. They're nothing like this other man who came by years ago, she says. They're too loud for her taste, too rude. And, since it's a Viking complaining about those things, she might be right. But, despite all that, she still attends to the feast Ragnar insisted on giving. You already know that people here don't really need a reason to cook insane amounts of food and invite everyone over to eat and dance and party until the sun is about to rise again. So you join them.

The celebration has been going on for quite a while now, a few hours went by since you showed up. You already ate, so now, drinking from a horn, you stand beside Helga next to the table where her husband happily tells some people his stories. “He keeps staring,” Helga mutters as you take another sip from your drink.

“Who?”

“Bjorn.”

“Oh.” Trying to be discreet, you take a look where he's seated, slightly nodding at him when your eyes meet. “Since the horse incident, we haven't been speaking much.”

“Aslaug told me an interesting story,” Helga smirks, and you furrow your eyebrows at her. “Hvitserk and Ivar. She said you have a... Curious relationship with both of them and she has no idea who you like.”

“Hvitserk is just a friend.” You speak fast, almost choking on your drink. “We've been friends since I got here basically, but that's it.”

She raises an eyebrow, her eyes moving from you to Ivar. That's when you notice you know exactly where he is. “You explained your relationship with one of them... What about the other?”

That makes you restless because you feel like giving the same answer you gave about Hvitserk isn't completely true. But how exactly can you explain it? “Ivar and I are... Friends... Not as close as Hvitserk, Uhm... We're actually just starting to–”

“I haven't noticed this one yet.” A raspy, strong voice says, and your attention is taken by the three men who came to stand behind you.

“She's a pretty one.” The taller, with dirty blonde hair, says. Stepping back, you stand next to Helga.

“More than pretty.” The third one, with a heavy accent, adds. “Are you a servant?”

“No, I–”

“Of course she isn't. Look at her dress.” The first one, with a braided beard, cuts you off before you can say anything, coming closer and forcing you and Helga to give a step back. His eyes are evil as they travel through your body, up and down. “Her jewels...” His hand comes to touch your necklace, and the other, the blond, moves to your side, pulling the skirt of your dress.

“She's under Aslaug's protection,” Helga speaks up, pulling you to the side a little. But by the way the man smiles, it doesn't seem like they care.

“Is she?” The blond asks, but it doesn't sound like he wants an answer.

You're about to say something, anything when another figure comes from behind you. Your heart starts pounding, but you're relieved when you recognize Bjorn. He stands between you, Helga, and those men. “My friends, why don't you join me for a drink?” He says, a hand behind his back gesturing for you to leave.

Helga takes your hand and pulls you away, back to the table where you were seated before. “Don't go anywhere alone tonight.” She whispers in your ear right before walking away.

“What was that?” You're quick to feel the change in the atmosphere, and, looking around, you notice everyone you know is gone, and Ubbe is the only one on the table. “Where is–”

“C'mon.” He quickly says and gets up, and you follow him inside. Everyone is here, and they stop talking when they lay eyes on you.

“Is there a problem?” You're quick to find Ivar, and, the moment you lock eyes with him, you can see how fast his expression changes. From anger to relief. Things turned upside down quickly, and you have no idea what happened.

“The problem is that they are wanderers. They don't fear or respect our rules.” The Queen says, eyeing Ragnar with anger. “I want them gone tomorrow.”

“They will be gone.” He assures, arms crossed.

Still trying to follow, you run a hand through your hair. “Did they do something?”

“No, but they'll try.” It's Bjorn who answers, coming to join you.

Alright, nobody here wants to be clear about it, so what's the point? “I'll go back to the feast so you can solve whatever problem–”

“Those three men were eyeing you all evening.” Bjorn interrupts. “They came to me asking who you were and where you're sleeping. Then they approached you like that. Do you really need me to explain in detail what exactly they'll try to do to you?”

This makes you stop breathing. “I'll keep the door locked then.” You mutter in a low voice, looking down and moving to the hanging table to get something to drink.

“No, you can't be there tonight. Nor alone.” Aslaug speaks as you find the two jars on the table are empty.

“She can stay with me tonight.” Bjorn is quick to offer, and your eyes go wide.

“Can't I stay with Ivar?” The words come out so damn fast it takes your slow brain a while to process what just happened. It was almost involuntary, as if there was something else inside you, like a force of nature, pushing those words out. “O-or Hvitserk?” You add after seconds of silence, a little lower, feeling as your cheeks burn.

Bjorn laughs, exchanging glances with Ragnar. “Ivar can't protect you.” He sounds disgusted, mocking, a hand gesturing at where his younger brother is.

You shouldn't have said that. You're sure Aslaug would arrange for you to move to another room, or maybe even sharing her chambers tonight. But no, you had to make things weird.

“Nobody will hurt her.” When you hear Ivar's reply, your attention turns to him. His eyes are on his brother, who stands a few feet away from you. You've never seen Ivar so angry, not even when you first got here, when he hated you for being a Christian living among them. But now... It's different, it's... Fury.

“Alright. Enough, both of you.” Aslaug stands up, a putting her cup down. “(Y/N), you stay with Ivar or Hvitserk tonight. Ragnar, go tell those disgusting men I want them gone by the morning.” Without saying anything, Ragnar leaves.

Not sure what to do next, you stand by the table, a hand holding the chains. It feels like everyone is expecting something, you're not sure what. You keep staring at Aslaug, who looks like is trying to tell you something you just can't understand.

“I think it's obvious you'll stay with Ivar so I'll just go,” Hvitserk mumbles as he walks by you, giving you a look that makes you want to throw a shield at him. Is he even allowed to have fun at a moment like this? Another obvious thing is that he'll never let it go, until the end of times, Hvitserk will tease you about this night.

“Well...” Ivar says, as he takes his clutch and gets up to his feet. “I think that's it.” You can tell he's ignoring Bjorn because that one can't stop staring. Ivar is playing with his brother, but, when he's near you, it doesn't look like he's playing anymore. Maybe he just got reminded of the reason why this is happening in the first place, and so did you. It's your safety that's at risk here. “C'mon then.” He says in a lower voice, and you nod, starting to follow him.

×

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927

#ivar the boneless imagine #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #imagine ivar #imagine ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar vikings #vikings imagine #ivar vikings imagine #imagine vikings