#ivars fish bar

[riverkloss]

Love at First Sight (dark hvits & plus reader)

CHAPTER THREE

Greetings! Here is the long awaited third chapter in Love at First Sight!

❤I owe this one to @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for cheering this on and betareading! ❤

•••••••

Ivar recalled how many girls he took to bed, but how many he loved was a very different matter. 

Freydis was his first love and his first fuck. She was so fairy-like and light on her feet that she always seemed to be floating on her toes. She had long, gold hair wrapped around her head like a halo. She crushed his heart into a billion fragments and spit in it. Betrayed him and left. 

Katya. He was so struck in a daze when he looked at her across a bar in Saint Petersburg. Dark hair in a bob, but her features uncannily resembled Freydis. Ivar could have sworn that they could have been twins. She wasn't as light as Freydis. Tattoos covered her skin like a canvas, he remembered tracing a bright koi fish in water on her thigh. The high didn't last long with her because she wasn't Freydis. 

There were so many girls over the years, maybe a change was good. He felt like he was ready enough to settle down and have a few baby feet running around. He didn't care how many. He liked the thought of a son. Teaching him how to play chess, honestly anything. He wanted to do right, be something that his father wasn’t for him. His father, Ragnar, loved him; of course, his father loved all his sons but he didn't know what to make of Ivar. He knew of his strengths. Ragnar made Ivar who he was today. 

Hvitserk was just always there. A true brother. And he was doing this for him: standing outside the apartments, patiently waiting as he pressed a second cigarette to his lips and inhaling the nicotine into his lungs, taking glances at the door every so often to see if someone was coming. Lurking outside of an apartment building didn't look that suspicious if it looked like he was waiting on someone. 

When someone finally came out, the doors unlocked for a brief moment. Ivar went inside letting the heavy metal door close behind him. Walking as if he was meant to be there, the lobby was small and smelled like lemon pledge, and the elevator was out of order, making him curse in his head. Fuck it. Cardio right? He knew his leg would be aching. Climbing the stairs was easy enough because she only lived on the second floor. How Hvitserk managed to steal a piece of mail from the mailroom he didn't want to know. 

Apt 32. 

Black bulky numbers on a plain grey-colored door and a long stretch of the hallway with no one in sight. 

One thing about Ivar, he learned to crack a door with a credit card and a bobby pin at a young age. It was easy to pop the door open, and he pushed the door open almost too cockily and smirked peeking inside. 

There was a modern touch, sleek and new. A black and white checkered couch was pressed against the wall and a painting of Marilyn Monroe was hung up above it with an abstract Chanel bottle beside it. The floor was all carpeted in a tan color. 

Ivar took off his shoes, and put them on the shoe rack beside the door, leaving only his socks on to make his rounds around the apartment. 

The living room felt like a showpiece, something that would be in an Instagram post. The kitchen wasn't big and was just as modern as the living room. 

He peeked open the fridge to find it in a disarray of different foods and drinks. He picked up one of the many yogurt drinks; Strawberry Banana looked promising. He opened it with a satisfying crack and took a sip before shutting the fridge to go explore around the small apartment. There was only a small hall with three doors. The bathroom door was wide open with different makeup and hair tools scattered around the sink and counter. 

Ivar thought to himself which door it's the lucky prize, one or two? He picked two and was right on the money. He flipped on the light revealing a very cozy-looking full bed, with a grey and blue plaid bedspread and matching pillowcases and a stuffed animal fox sitting there watching him with stitched button eyes. 

Her room kind of smelled like something warm, like a bakery and coffee. There were shelves of books, too many to count, neatly on shelves and some on her bedside table. She had a small Bluetooth radio, and a flat-screen TV hung up on the wall, a writing desk with stationery galore in its own place, and journals propped in a pile on the very edge of it. Reading into the life of a girl wasn't exactly in Ivar’s plans for today.

Ivar set down the drink on the desk, running his fingertip across the different spines. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and picked up the black one with stickers decorating it. Then he pulled back the elastic strap and flickered through all the pages of sprawled handwriting, some neat, others written frantically with the ink smudged on the paper, and with coffee drips that left a trace of her. 

Ivar fell into her world on the pages. It was something unfiltered, a chaos of the mind, a beautiful frenzy unraveling before his eyes on a single piece of paper. Flipping through page after page, Ivar felt consumed by her words.

More than he should have.

Where does the line end from freedom to loneliness? 

Hvitserk didn't know everything about her as he thought he did. He didn't know her sadness, her loneliness, her deep longing to just feel seen by someone who could fully understand her completely. 

She wanted to be looked at. 

He stepped into her most raw and tender thoughts and on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his moment. At the second ring, he looked to see Hvitserk’s name lit up the screen, answering and pressing it to his ear. 

"You're really annoying, you know that?" Ivar snipped, snapping the journal closed and setting it on her desk. 

"You're the one not picking up your phone," Hvitserk grumbled on the other side of the phone. 

He felt his leg ache a little with a stinging feeling for shifting his weight on it longer than he had realized, so he moved to pace across the room. "I'm busy." Ivar’s brow went looking at the wooden dresser and he started to open the drawers until he found what he'd been looking for. 

The soft ones were his favorite. The feel between his fingertips. The panties were cheeky, with blue and pink stripes and a nice little blue bow at the middle - the cherry on top. He plucked the fabric and stuffed it in his pants pocket. He saw some mauve-pink lacy ones with the tags still on and it made his heart race a little. "Goddamn," Ivar whispered.

"What are you doing?" Hvitserk questioned impatiently. 

"Your little girlfriend has quite a collection of underwear," Ivar smirked and felt a shift of rage on the other side of the phone. 

"Get out of her underwear, pervert." 

Ivar chuckled in response deviously. "You said to inspect and observe." 

"Not her panty drawer!" His brother yelled then said in a hushed whisper. "Not her panty drawer." 

There's a pause for a moment.

"Quit staring at me, O'Donnell. I'm on a business call." Hvitserk tells someone on the other side of the phone. There's a deeper voice telling his brother something. 

Ivar can't make out what it is but it sounds mocking. 

"Let me call you back..." The line goes dead as presumably, Hvitserk goes to beat up his coworker. Hvitserk didn't even like the job that much at the loading docks but he wanted to make a decent living. A respectable job. Though he had a bit of money stashed away from their father's estates from having a good job, just not very legal or respectable.

Ivar didn't see the point. In his eyes, it was like playing checkers when he was playing chess. He earned his money fair and square from old chess opponents he played back in the day who still were trying to grapple onto another game to be played. They worked 24/7, married with 2.5 kids. Mostly miserable in their midlife crisis. They always lose. They always have. 

Ivar wanted stability, secretly. Even if he wasn't all stable himself. He would never admit it aloud. And the other half wanted to be better than his father, to seek glory and fame which led to his ruthlessness as a competitor. He won all his games and headed for new opportunities. A blackmailer for the high and mighty. 

Ivar gently shut her dresser drawer. 

He went over to her bed and ran his fingers over the soft blanket before he decided to lay on her bed sinking his head into the pillow. His one hand laid lazily on his stomach looking up to the bare ceiling.

A little quiet for a while.

TagList

@flowers-in-your-hayr @deans-ch-ch-cherrypieherrypie @heavenly1927 @wittysunflower

#hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk #marco ilsø #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x plus size reader #creative writing #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader

[otwdfanfic]

For the asking thingie, 🦚, 🌌 (would love to hear what you would be in the HTTYD universe!), and 📝<333

🦚: definitely httyd 2 Astrid without a doubt. I think the chemicals in my brain were altered on the day those designs were leaked to tumblr. All the fur, the red tank, the giant hood and arm warmers, the braid... impacted my development forever. A good 25% of my brain is thinking about that outfit at all times. Dragon wise my fav design is the nadder but I'm about to rant about them in the next answer so I also loooove the light fury. The idea of a smooth white semi aquatic beluga dragon with little fins and shimmery sparkly patterns is literally a dream. I have to resist buying all the light fury merch (but I do have the sparkly build a bear lol, he's called Ivar)

🌌: I'd be a Hooligan bc I'm too soft for Berserker or Defender life. In real life I love working on boats but hate fishing, but if I was raised a viking I could definitely see myself as a fisherman. I also like sewing replica viking age clothing so I could make clothes and spin wool as a side gig. For my dragon I would definitely have a nadder. I've always been obsessed with them, they're just the most beautiful amazing jaw dropping dragon design I've ever seen haha. In SoD I've got one named Birdshot who used to look like Stormfly but is now unfortunately orange and green because I accidentally picked those colors and I think it's too funny to change. I don't think I'd keep that name, though, I'll have to brainstorm a new one. Other than nadders, I'm weirdly very attached to eruptodons and I think it would be really really cool to have one if they weren't so rare. I also love gronkles, they're like fat little cats.

📝: hehe. Outside of my current otwd projects (I'm struggling to focus on the second half of the downed dragon, but itpn is coming along great) the only fic I'm writing is a super self indulgent modern au where Berk is a small ski town in Colorado. Stoick was the mayor but he left after divorcing Valka and after he dies Hiccup roadtrips back to Berk for the first time (with his cousin and girlfriend) to leave his dads ashes in the mountains (that seems very dark and depressing but it's not an emo fic LOL). It's about all the quirky people who live in Berk, like Hiccup's step brother Dagur who owns a local bar, Fishlegs the alpine botanist, Eret who is the manager of Gobber's small hotel, etc. Valka is a scientist who is working to stop Drago and Grimmel and those guys from developing the mountain to build new resort hotels, and Hiccup slowly gets to know her and becomes invested in her environmental cause. There's no pet versions of dragons or any equivalent in this au... the environment is a metaphor for the dragons lol. I started it in 2019 and based Berk on a real ski town where my parents used to live (that I've visited once) and now I've manifested the fic into reality because I'm planning to move to the real life town next month, exactly like Hiccup's timeline in the fic. I'll post it when I've got more written, it's not like otwd in terms of writing and depth and plot... it's just something light hearted I write when stuck on otwd. Fingers crossed my move works out so I can be inspired to write more lol

#yayyy #i want an eruptodon so bad but how would I feed it #i have a drawing for the modern fic i'll see if it's post-worthy lol #my employee housing is not guaranteed yet so idk if i can move yet #i should draw a sona but i don't feel cool enough to live in httyd so its hard to make a character loll

[cesgmorris]

It was great to celebrate Ivar’s 118th birthday last night at the @ivarsclam Fish Bar on Alaskan Way but what happened to my favorite item on the menu—your delicious Wild Alaskan Pollock fish and chips and what can we do to bring them back? I’m going to have to get after Bob on this one!! #ivarsseafood #ivars #birthdaypromo #buyonegetone #freshseafood #seattlefoodies #seattletreats #pnweats #pnwfoodies (at Ivar's Fish Bar) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqGgSziv-RJ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#ivarsseafood #ivars #birthdaypromo #buyonegetone #freshseafood #seattlefoodies #seattletreats #pnweats #pnwfoodies

[20244202]

Seattle in July

📷: Nikon One Touch Zoom 70 AF 🎞: Kodak Colorplus 200

Instagram // Print Shop

#film #film photography #kodak #kodak colorplus 200 #colorplus 200 #streetphotography #seattle #washington #pikes #pikes market #4th of july #july #analog photography #analog #ivars fish bar #loback meat co #ferris wheel #nikon one touch #nikon #nikon one touch 70 af #lensblr #artists on tumblr #tumblr photography #photography

[christmaslightssalesman]

Now she gave me a 1953 Ivar's place mat!

I DO love Ivar's.

#1953 #ivars fish bar #ivars #vintage seattle #seattle vintage #seattle #seattle washington #washington state #washington #acres of clams #vintage #puget sound

[dearfellowtraveler-blog1]

Seattle, Washington, USA

#seattle #washington #wa #usa #ivars #ivars fish bar #photo #photography #art

[jadelynlace]

Powerlifting⎮Ink Drinker NSFW Blurb⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]

more Ink Drinker here!

author’s note: After a few posts, and a few requests and ideas, we have “Ink Drinker, Lockdown” *dramatic music*. Thank you all, as always, for the love and the inquiries on this AU. I am forever grateful. ♡ The divider is by @firefly-graphics​

content warnings: This is just a thirst trap. Imagine that tattooed beast powerlifting, those muscles moving. Fuck. Oh, there’s smut!

Ivar gathers a few more hobbies while in lockdown: puzzles, buying betta fish and watching them, and searching the internet far and wide to find math work books. He really, really gets into Trigonometry, especially while remodeling the new house. And as always, trying so very hard to convince you to partake in the creation of a lockdown baby, mostly so he could say “Yeah, Y/N and I did not keep 6 feet apart!” 

But most importantly, he gets into powerlifting. And while you’re not exactly a non-essential worker, Ivar spends his time without you at Floki’s house, helping his boys with their school work. And what does Floki have? (The better question is what doesn’t Floki have?) A collection of weights. Why? Who the hell knows. 

“Floki, why do you have them?” Ivar asks, in the back storage building on his property. “Do you even use them?”

“Honestly, I do not recall where I acquired them,” Floki hums, scratching the back of his neck. “But they are here, and I will find a use for them someday,” He shrugs.

“Can I use them?” Ivar then asks. “The gym is closed anyways,”

“Of course!” Floki chirps. “Let’s get them into the truck, shall we?”

That’s what you come home to the following morning: Ivar’s Jeep in the driveway, and a sudden set up of weights, bars, mats, and belts. You almost don’t even want to ask.

“What did you do?” You say slowly and Ivar smiles widely when he sees you. You step back when he gets closer though. “I have to decon myself, goofball,”

“Floki had them!” Ivar answers.

“Floki had...of course he did,” You groan. 

“My goal is to be able to deadlift 400 pounds,” Ivar replies.

“That’s not much of a goal,” You tease and Ivar furrows his brows. “You can bench 350 pounds, I’ve seen it,” Ivar only deadpans.

“That’s classified information, baby. And, uh, your security clearance isn’t high enough,”

“How high does it have to be?” You question.

“Um....six foot five,” Ivar smirks, a cocky grin on his lips and you roll your eyes. 

“I’m showering!” You call as you walk away. “Alone,” You suddenly add, turning to see Ivar in a trek to follow you.

All through the shower, you hear the bar hit the floor every time Ivar drops it, and you half expect to see him under it when you peek out. Cleaned and in your undergarments, your eyes catch his back as he moves, shirt long since discarded and you watch him do exactly what he said he couldn’t: the 400 pounds is lifted quickly, three times before the bar crashes on the mat. Sneaking through the door, you lean against the railing as you watch him repeat the set, one very quick photo taken from your phone before you send him a message. “All cleaned, ready to be hugged.”

When Ivar turns around to see you watching him, his face deadpans, blue eyes stuck staring back at you and you click your tongue.

“Don’t lie to the woman who knows a multitude of ways to make your death look like an accident,” You hum as you smile. Ivar tries so very hard not to break his stare.

“You get a five-second head start,” Ivar says lowly.

“What?” You ask.

“Run,” And you laugh. “One, two...three...” All while he still holds your gaze. “Four...four and a half...five,” And you squeak when you watch him move, opening the door with a squeal as you take off into the living room. Even as you turn down the hallway, Ivar snatches you quickly, laughing with you and you’re caged between two very thick arms. “Oh, no,” Ivar hums, his voice in your ear and you can’t help the small moan that slips through your lips as he’s pressed against you. “I caught you,” He sighs, palms sliding over your stomach, crossing your hips before they dip lower, tracing your covered slit and you moan. “What was that?”

“I think it’s called a moan,” You remark back and Ivar’s dominant hand moves, back towards your chest and you gasp quickly when it’s on your throat. 

“Let’s not be sassy, miss,” Ivar purrs. “That’s my job,”

“I like watching you lift,” You whisper while his hands roam.

“You know what I like watching?” Ivar asks as the tip of his nose trails the curve of your head. “You, riding me,” He adds and you gasp.

You’re spun in his grasp quickly, looking up at him while his eyebrows move towards the ceiling. Half of you wants to take off again, but the other half, the side that wins, wants to challenge him. Ivar’s hand moves to your jaw, his thumb on your cheek and you know he’s waiting for you to answer. 

“What do you say, baby?” Ivar asks, and you nod. 

It’s a wrestle back to the bed, as Ivar tries to take your garments off and you try to not lose your footing. Like clockwork, he crawls over you after your back hits the sheets, and your hands fumble, rolling the band of his shorts down while his lips still lock with yours. A low groan rumbles through his chest when he feels you grab him over the fabric, squeezing slowly as his cock hardens. Pushing him, Ivar’s back flops against the bed as you throw your leg over him, covered middles brushing one another and you watch him deflate. 

His eyes close as you hum, leaning closer to his mouth. Instead, you take your nose against his neck, inhaling the scent of his aftershave, mixed subtly with sweat and you plant your lips once, twice, three times below ear. Ivar’s palm crosses your back, palming your ass suddenly and offering you a quick smack against your backside. It sends your head to drop against his collar bone, absentmindedly rocking your hips as if you’re already riding him before a moan passes through your mouth. So, Ivar repeats the same motions, greeted again with the heavenly sound. 

You feel his hands shuffle, pulling his shorts down just enough to free his cock while you push your weight up through your knees. Before you’re even able to grab the band of your bra, Ivar halts you, clicking his tongue before one hand grabs your hip. You freeze, watching him bite his lip as his fingers crawl towards your panties, pulling the cotton to the side and you inhale sharply as you peek down. There’s a pressing of his tip against your opening, making your walls clench around emptiness, and you whimper, waiting anxiously to feel his cock spread you. Taking reign, you drop your weight slowly, swallowing him in your heat until you’re sitting against him. 

“Oh, fuck,” Ivar gasps, his fingers tangling with the cotton on your hip as your thighs shake against him. 

Ivar’s chin tips towards the ceiling as he swallows, feeling his body register the warmth, the wetness you’re enveloping him with, and his cock twitches back inside of you. He can feel your palms plant themselves on his chest, moaning back to him as you take the smallest flick of your hips. Ivar’s head sinks into the pillows, his mouth parting as you work him, finding a steady rhythm as your cunt grows your slick around his shaft. His breathing picks up when your pace does, heart beating rapidly behind his ribs and his hands can only stay where they are.

“You’re supposed to be watching me,” You whisper softly, shuffling your hands across his ribs before his eyelids peel apart. 

“Fuck me, baby,” Ivar groans, pulling your hips for you and you giggle at the sudden drop in his voice’s octave. A sudden thrust through his own hips makes you bounce, moaning as his cock brushes further inside of you and your body shakes with electricity. You lean forwards, lips meeting his while you move, and when he slips back out suddenly, Ivar’s hand moves quickly, pushing his cock back in his favor before you’re sinking back onto him. Gasping against your tongue, it feels even more heavenly this time, spreading you again and you moan when he does. 

As Ivar drops your hips, he takes one hand to your throat, treading his other palm across your pebbled breasts and you gasp when he places his hand where you desire it. Only then does he use his hand to move yours, dropping it to mirror his grip on your throat, so your fingers are on his. Halting your hips Ivar whines, nodding, bucking himself to move you again and you’re quickly catching his memo. His hands take back to your chest when you start up, bouncing against his cock and you push pressure against the sides of his throat, under the angle of his jaw. 

His cock twitches inside of you in response, as fire rolls through you and you press harder. When his lips part you watch the muscles in his abdomen contract, flex vividly under the artwork and you know he’s almost there. The final straw comes when you clamp your walls against his shaft, pressing him deeply inside of you as his hips thrust in response, cock spurting inside of you as his orgasm rolls through him. With his thighs shaking below you, you’re quick to pull your hand back, letting air back into his body, and the groan you so love floats over his tongue. Emptying himself as you stay still, watching the man below you come, you can’t help but find pleasure in that alone. 

Leaning forwards, you feel his cock flag, slipping back out of you before you nuzzle against him. His seed is there next, dripping slowly and Ivar’s arms encase you and he relaxes against the bed.

“I didn’t know you liked to be choked,” You whisper against his neck. 

“It always makes you come,” Ivar rasps. “Wanted to see if it would make me come,”

“A lot of things make you come, Ivar,” You giggle, and Ivar offers a short chuckle back. Pulling back, you bump your nose with his, kissing his lips softly in contrast to the pleasure-hungry movements you were just offering him. 

“Your turn,” Ivar whispers and you pull back slowly to look at him. 

“For what?” You ask cautiously. The words hardly leave your lips before Ivar rolls the two of you, your back dropping against the duvet and he’s moving quickly. Crawling himself between your legs and your knees bend out of instinct while his fingers tug your panties down, tossing them somewhere in relative proximity. Curling his biceps around your thighs, you’re yanked closer to his mouth as his eyes watch you.

“To come,” Ivar says lowly, dipping his mouth down to your core, tasting his own release mixing with your essence.

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579​  @dreamtherapy​ @heisentwerk​  @angelofthenightposts​ @unbetaedimagines​  @readsalot73​ @queen-sarang​   @anastasiaskarsgard​ @andmyannabellee​  @peachyboneless​ @heavenly1927​ @istorkyou​ @quantumlocked310​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @mighty-ragnarssons​ @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ @queen-of-upshur​ @nanahachikyuu​ @fandomlifeandeverythingelse​ @a5hl3y5ibley​  @hashimily​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @love-all-things-writing​  @theanxietyqueen17​ @trip2themoon​ @tgrrose​ @synnersaint​ @kataphine​ @prepare4trouble​ @abbiii72​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @93xdiagonxalley​ @ivarisms​ @nordicshieldmadien @ironynoticony​  @ivarsgard​ @ivarcansteponmeanytime @prettyinpayne​

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

#vikings #vikings fiction #vikings au #modern vikings #modern vikings fanfiction #modern vikings au #modern times au #vikings ivar #modern vikings ivar #vikings smut #modern vikings smut #ivar #ivar smut #modern ivar #modern ivar smut #ivar au #modern ivar au #ivar lothbrok fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar lothbrok #ivar lothbrok smut #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar ragnarsson #modern ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson fanfiction #ivar ragnarsson smut #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar x you #modern ivar x you #ivar x reader

[writingfromasgard]

[Ch8] A Professional Donation

[Ch1] || [ML] || [AO3] || [taglist]

A/N: Oh gosh, we actually learn some things about Ivar's family.

Exhaustion didn't creep up on Cora; it slammed into her body when she stepped into her soulless apartment. She dragged herself over to her fridge, freezing as she reached for a shake. Her eyes drifted to the worst thing she could eat right now: greasy, fried sesame chicken and egg-fried rice.

She grabbed the half-eaten food and tossed the chicken into the air fryer while the rice went into the microwave. She returned to the fridge for a bottle of water, leaning on the kitchen counter while things were reheated. Her mind flashed with Ivar's words.

"What do you need from me?" "Good. I don't want this to be like your other arrangements."

Those storm-cloud-colored eyes bubbled to the surface. Ivar's eyes raked down her body as if to memorize it. She sucked down the water, pushing the image away. Two short dings later, she analyzed the more minor details of the night.

Hvitserk had a girlfriend, Camilia or 'Cammy' as he called her. There's a constant smile on his face when he speaks to Ubbe or Ivar. He enjoyed riling Ivar up and seemed relatively harmless so long as she skirted his comments.

Camilia hadn't spoken much about herself. She was practically sitting in Hvitserk's lap once Ubbe had joined them. She did ask Sigurd to work at her bar the coming weekend.

Ubbe would be considered dangerous. He looked like he was watching everything she and Ivar did. His questions were borderline impolite with their directness. He would be the first to notice if she slipped up.

Next, Angrboda and Sigurd. They acted as if they were one person and she was confident they were soulmates. Maybe lovers from a previous life rejoined in this one. The way they looked at each left a hollow feeling in her chest. She and Sigurd owned a galley, too. One she would be going to soon enough.

Focusing on Ivar, she felt excitement again. His cunning and intelligence had her itching to learn more about him. He said few words at dinner, most of them sarcastic responses to his brothers. His demanding nature sucked her in, too.

She chastised herself, stuffing the last bite of her food in her mouth. What happened tonight did not need to ever happen again. The mental mask had been too thin.

"He is my donor and nothing more, Cora. You feel this way because the first play session is always..." Her tongue clucked, "exciting. It will fade next time."

Her spoon clattered on the plate and she placed it on the counter next to her. "I'm just horny because of those fucking arms."

From inside her clutch, her work phone vibrated. She suppressed the want for it to be Ivar. The disappointment still came when she read the message. She had changed her phone number twice since starting -- the last time nearly a year and a half ago simply because she kept getting calls for pizza. Now, she was changing her number because of an obsessive ex-donor.

Unknown: my husband has an offer for you

Cora: I'm not interested, Laila. Do not contact me again.

She didn't bother reading the reply before blocking the number again. "I'll let Yevette know tomorrow. Meeting in the morning, bedtime now." She headed for her room, stripping off the luxurious dress for the comfort of a tank top and shorts.

Ivar turned to avoid the sunlight that poured into his suite. He heard rustling beside him, his brows meeting in the middle of his forehead. They relaxed as he reached for Cora, remembering she had been with him last night. He aimed for her hips to pull her to him.

His lips turned down. Cora's hips felt like she wore ill-fitting blue jeans. She didn't bring clothing with her, only the dress.

"Hey, big boy. You want to do it with me again?" Came a shrill voice, cracking with laughter.

His eyes flew open to meet the back of Hvitserk's head. His brother wiggled against him like a flopping fish. Immediately, he shoved Hvitserk as hard as he could. Hvitserk shrieked, sliding right off the satin duvet.

"Shit, that hurt. It's not my fault you grabbed me." Hvitserk popped up from the side of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Why are you in my room?" Ivar growled. He suppressed the urge to throw the lamp on the side table at his brother and sat up.

"Cammy kicked me out to do payroll and you weren't answering." He stood, dusting off his clothes before sitting back on the bed. "Something about my dick being a distraction."

"I'm sure she was tired of your shit, considering how you acted last night. What the hell was that?" Ivar grimaced at him, eyes looking away from him in disgust. "You didn't tell me Sigurd was out of the hospital."

"Nah, when I flirt with other chicks, it makes her horny." Hvitserk shrugged, leaning back with his arms behind his back. His lips spread in a fond grin, likely remembering something Ivar wouldn't care to picture. "Angrboda picked him up. You know...The hospital discharge papers had her marked as 'Wife.'"

Ivar let out a harsh laugh. "Hvitserk, they have been married since they were 20. Does no one in our family search for court documents?" He laughed harder upon seeing confusion cross Hvitserk's face.

His brother made a gargled attempt to ask several questions at one time until one finally came out, "And you never told Floki?!"

"Floki knows." Ivar caught the colored wet wipe package next to him and chuckled to himself. "He told me -- at first, he wanted them to come clean. Now he is tired of the games. Imagine that, Floki, tired of games."

"That sneaky bastard knows everything." His brother whistled lowly. "Want to grab some lunch, or were you waiting on Cora to eat?" His waggling eyebrows made Ivar scoff.

"She went home last night." Hvitserk opened his mouth to reply. Ivar cut him off, not wanting his brother to ruin his good mood. "After we fucked. She said it wouldn't be 'proper.'"

"Shit, that means she didn't finish. Can I get her number? Cam's busy and I could-" Ivar slammed him with his pillow, holding it over his face for a few seconds.

"It had more to do with her being worried I would continue to make her finish." He held up three fingers once Hvitserk tossed the pillow off the bed in search of air. His gasping brother grinned at him, pride in his eyes. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything." Hvitserk's lecherous grin spread over his face. "Are you sure you want to bring in someone like her? With Cam, she knew how seedy the world is. Cora is like a sweet, darling angel."

Ivar snorted, whipping the covers off. The dried remnants of their escapades were visible and he grabbed the wet nap to clean himself up, ignoring Hvitserk's ramblings. "Heahmund says, 'Even the devil was an angel once.' I'm inclined to believe him. Where are we going for lunch?"

"There's a food truck parked a couple streets over. They have the best salsiccia* I've had in a while." Hvitserk moved to grab Ivar's clothes for him, tossing them on the bed beside him. "Ubbe was in a foul mood last night."

Ivar's eyebrow raised as he slipped on his boxers. Hvitserk bounced on his toes, shoving his hands inside his coat.

"Do you know why or are you stating the obvious?" Ivar grunted as he dragged his pants up, slipping on his shirt after. "He said Torvi was sick. Is that true?"

"Yeah, she's been feeling ill lately. That's not what's bothering him." His lips pressed together, distrust showing on his face. "Dad's announcing the heir soon. Ubbe thinks it'll be you since you have a relationship with Tanaruz and she owns Floki's company."

"She owns it; Angrboda runs it. " Ivar corrected him, " She and Ubbe are closer than Tanaruz and I."

His eyes rolled as he recalled how intensely Ubbe had stared at Cora. "He sees everything he wants to when he wants to. I'll ask Helga to visit Torvi. I would hate for another wife of Ubbe's to die."

Hvitserk's shoulders shook with his laughter at the comment. "Oh, come on, you know Margrethe isn't dead. It hasn't been five years yet."

"And yet he was allowed to remarry Torvi so soon." That made Hvitserk's laughter renew. Ivar's lips pursed, a cruelness overtaking him at his brother's enjoyment. "To think, she begged you to save her."

The laughter cut short and he could tell how uncomfortable his words made Hvitserk. He remembered her fondly when she was brought up yet played a heavy hand in her death.

"Bring me the wheelchair in the closet. I don't feel like walking today." In another calculated move, Ivar smiled up at Hvitserk. "You are such a good brother when I need you."

Hvitserk moved to the closet. "Yeah, I know. You don't have to say it." The cheerful tone returned to his voice, a smile back on his face. Ivar envied that part of his brother, the ability to simply swap over to a happier person without a thought.

#Ivar #ivar fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #vikings fanfic #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #a professional donation #adp #not sfw #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #hvitserk x cora

[desiredtastes]

It was our second day in Seattle and the weather was gorgeous!

We walked along the pier towards the market.

You can’t visit Seattle without checking out Pike Place Market. Established in 1907, Seattle’s original farmer’s market was a way to connect producers directly with the public. It’s a a popular spot for tourists and locals alike with fresh produce stalls and stands filled with local fruits and vegetables year-round.

The market is also home to fish markets, butchers, flower shops, bakeries, specialty vendors, and restaurants.

My first stop was Market Grill for their Blackened Salmon Sandwich. So simple, but so good. I saw the sandwich on Delicious Destinations. A great breakfast indeed.

My sister met me as I was finishing up and we walked over to Pike Place Chowder. The award-winning seafood institution serves traditional and specialty chowders. There was a line, so we looked over the menu while we waited.

After a bit, we were at the counter and ready to order.

My sister went with the vegan Lime & Coconut Chowder in a sourdough bread bowl. I decided to get the sampler of four 5 oz. chowders.

I tried the New England Clam Chowder, Seared Scallop Chowder, Smoked Salmon, Chowder, and the Crab & Oyster Chowder. Creamy, hearty, and flavorful. They were all delicious! The seared scallop may have been my favorite though.

We continued to wander around the market. There’s a lot to see and sample.

We stopped my Pike Place Fish Market and chatted with the friendly staff. This is where you’ll see the awesome fishmongers flinging fish through the air. Do not miss the flying fish!

Outside on Pike Place, you’ll see a street lined with more food vendors. It’s also the location of the the very first Starbucks.

I stopped by Piroshky Piroshky for a…you guessed it…piroshky! The small Russian bakery cranks out a variety of them, both savory and sweet.

What is a piroshky? They’re basically hand held pies with fillings. Each one is made from scratch and hand-molded into a unique shape.

I ended up getting a Ham, Cheese & Spinach piroshsky. It was incredible! The golden brown, flakey pastry was soft and buttery. The filling was hot and delicious. Piroshsky Piroshky is a must-try at the market.

After spending the majority of the afternoon exploring the market, we walked by a couple stores. Open since 1899, the Ye Olde Curiosity Shop on the waterfront of Pier 54 has a collection of weird, cool, and unusual items. Shrunken heads, real mummies, gag gifts, Native American art? Come on down!

As if we didn’t eat enough, I stopped by the takeout counter of Ivar’s Fish Bar on Pier 54 to try their classic Clams n’ Chips.

The wild caught hand-breaded Atlantic surf clams are served with Ivar’s signature tartar or cocktail sauces and French fries. You can take a seat at one of the outdoor tables among the seagulls and even share a few of your fries with them if you’d like.

It was a great afternoon of foodie fun. We relaxed at the apartment for a while before going back out.

Pike Place Market 1st Ave and Pike Street Seattle, WA 98101 [phone] Website

Ye Olde Curiosity Shop Pier 54, 1001 Alaskan Way Seattle, WA 98104 [phone] Website

Ivar’s Fish Bar 1001 Alaskan Way Seattle, WA 98104 [phone] Website

Pike Place Market and Ivar’s Fish Bar It was our second day in Seattle and the weather was gorgeous! We walked along the pier towards the market.

#chowder #clams and chips #fried clams #ivar&039;s clams #ivar&039;s fish bar #market grill seattle #pike place chowder #pike place market #piroshky #piroshky piroshsky #salmon sandwich #Seafood #Seattle #seattle pier 54 #seattle public market #ye olde curiosity shop

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XXXIII

A/N: And we're back?? With hopefully better more regular updates again??? So, I am apologising with some serious fluff at the end. Oopsies <3 And, without further ado, thank you for your patience and enjoy chapter thirty-three XD Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

--

No rest came for Asta after that night, or at least, it didn’t come easily. Ivar couldn’t get out of her what she’d seen, not about anything. He’d convinced her to tell him she had seen something, convinced her to tell him each thing she’d seen- Hvitserk sick, Björn falling when she fought him that final time in Kattegat, but she wouldn’t tell him why she’d woken speaking of Lagertha.

Ivar was certain now, if of nothing else, that Asta was a Prophet. He just wished that she was a Prophet who could sleep some, as she’d barely done so since the night she’d woken. In fact, as they now sat around the table for another meal with Oleg, Katia, and Igor, she seemed to be starting to doze, and Ivar had to keep gently waking her.

They were currently having a conversation about how they’d entertain themselves through the winter, and Katia’s description of bathing in a hot spring had made Asta’s brows crease, looking up at her slowly. Katia was smirking at her, smirking at Ivar as well, and Asta decided right then and there that she just wanted to take Ivar back to their room and go to sleep. Forget any dreams she may have- that would be better than how awkward she felt just then.

“And you, dear Ivar?” Oleg asked. “The future King of all Scandinavia… what would you like?”

“I would like to walk,” Ivar replied, after a few long moments of thought. Oleg began to chuckle, and Asta narrowed her eyes at him.

“That would be a miracle,” he pointed out, as if laughing Ivar’s desires off. But Ivar didn’t laugh, not at all, and Asta began to wonder if he was going to get angry at Oleg.

“I’ve heard that your God performs miracles,” he began. “Jesus Christ raised a man from the dead. He made a lame man walk. He fed a thousand people with just a few loaves and fishes. I don’t think it’s too much to ask of Him to cure a simple cripple, is it?”

Clearly, Oleg was irritated. The idea made Asta smirk, in a way which mirrored Ivar’s own smirk. Irritating that man was now something which Asta thoroughly enjoyed.

“We will all pray for that miracle, Ivar the Boneless,” he said tensely. Asta smiled softly, taking Ivar’s hand under the table.

“We will,” Asta agreed, nodding, and Ivar turned to her with a small smile, before turning back to their host.

“What about you, Prince Oleg?” he questioned. “What is it that… amuses you?” He was silent for a moment, and then reiterated, “What is it that you really want?”

Once the question was asked, Ivar lifted his cup to drink from it, and Oleg replied, “As usual, I want the impossible. I want to go back into my mother’s womb. I want to float there, in that small, limitless universe, among the stars. With no beginning, no end. Waiting for the new world to begin.”

There was a far off look in his eye, and yet Asta still found herself opening her eyes wider, her brows lifting a bit as she took a sip of her drink. Impossible, indeed, she thought to herself. She turned to Ivar then, who looked almost like he might pity the man, and so her eyes turned to Katia, who seemed as if she were… not quite enthralled, by him, but she certainly listened intently. Ivar followed Asta’s gaze, and so Katia turned to look at them both, a strange smirk on her lips.

“I know we have all been here before,” Oleg continued on. “We’re constantly reborn. It’s what I believe.” He seemed to watch, then, the way his wife interacted with the Vikings at their table. Ivar looked away as Katia returned her attention to her husband, and Asta returned her attention to her drink. “Don’t you, Ivar?” he asked.

Katia looked back to Ivar, and it was then Asta became aware of what was happening here. Rebirth… Rebirth, like the face of one’s late wife, now being the face of a new ally’s wife. The statement was designed to draw attention to that once again. Her eyes narrowed a bit, as she heard Ivar thoughtfully answer, “Yes. That’s also what I believe.” He glanced back to Katia, a nearly anxious look in his eyes, and Katia smiled gently at him. The Shieldmaiden wished she could take him from the room, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk upsetting Oleg without due cause, not now that Dir was free, even if it meant letting Ivar continue to be subjected to this sort of mental torture.

“Well,” Asta said, hoping to interrupt this conversation and change it again. “Isn’t anybody going to ask what I’d like this winter?” Ivar chuckled a little at the pouty expression she wore, as if feeling a bit left out.

“My apologies, my Queen,” he said, inclining his head to her as if he were deferring to her authority. He even gave a little flourish with one of his hands, and earned a small giggle from the woman.

Asta turned back to him, and put a hand on his cheek affectionately. “I’d like to spend some time with my husband,” she began, “perhaps having a drink in front of a warm hearth, enjoying his presence with me here. I count it a blessing every day that we are here together, and this winter, I want to be sure I don’t take that for granted.”

Ivar smiled softly at her, and covered her hand with his own. He pulled it away from his cheek so that he could kiss the back of it, before turning it and lacing his fingers with her own. “I think I would like that as well,” he said. “If my legs will not be healed, then I should like to spend some time with my wife, being grateful for the fact she remains at my side, even after all we have been through together.”

She gave his hand a small squeeze, and her free hand lifted to cup his cheek once more. “Then we will,” she promised him. And, whether he knew it or not, her want for that winter served more than one purpose. Of course, she meant all she said, about wanting to spend time with him, and not taking it for granted, but at the same time, she sent a message to Oleg and Katia, who she could still sense trying to mess with Ivar. She wasn’t going to stand by while this happened, and in fact, intended to actively stand in the way. Whatever they thought about that, she didn’t care. All Asta cared about, was that she was there for Ivar, and kept them from hurting him any more than he’d already been hurt.

Fortunately, the rest of the night passed without incident, and the next day Asta and Ivar found theirselves standing up above the market of Kiev, watching as Igor skated around on the ice beneath them, just as he’d said he wanted to do. The people around them cheered the young prince on, and Asta and Ivar were no exception. However, a man soon approached them, and stopped to stand on Ivar’s right, where Asta stood to his left. Neither of the Vikings acknowledged him, but he still spoke.

“I have a message for you, Ivar the Boneless, and Asta the Prophet,” he began, and finally earned their attention. “Prince Dir sends you greetings. He is safe, well, and restored. But for the time being, still in hiding.” The two looked back toward Igor, ensuring it couldn’t be noticed, not easily, that they had just been talking to the man who’d approached them. “However,” he continued. “He hopes that one day he will be strong enough to help you achieve your ambition… which, is also his ambition.”

Cheers and applause went up as Igor finished his skating, and stopped to bow as if having just finished an elaborate performance. Ivar and Asta, as well as their apparent visitor, joined the crowd in congratulating the Prince on not falling over, though the former two wore proud smiles on their faces. While the crowd was thoroughly distracted, the messenger sat a small, metallic object down on the banister on which Ivar leaned, a brief motion before clapping again as well.

“He sends you this cross, by which you will know him, and is a token of his enduring friendship,” he explained, and Ivar casually sat a hand down over it, as if just balancing himself. He picked up his crutch as well, in time for the messenger to say, “Now, I must leave. Please do not turn or watch me go.”

They did as asked, and the man left their side just as quickly as he had come to it. A thoughtful expression took Ivar’s face as he left, and he shared a look with Asta. Things were in motion still, it seemed, and they’d certainly have much to discuss that evening. Ivar turned then to lift his hand, looking down at the cross which had been left by Dir’s messenger. It looked quite different from the crosses Asta was used to seeing in Wessex, having two bars across the top as opposed to the one, and a diagonal bar across the longer section of the bottom. She figured, to represent the sign held above Christ’s head, and to represent the place His feet were nailed to the cross.

So caught up in what had happened as they were, they barely noticed as Igor approached them, and asked, “Who was that?”

“He didn’t tell me his name,” Ivar answered him honestly. “But, he told me that Prince Dir is safe,” he paused to uncover the cross for Igor to see it, “and that he is prepared to help us when the time has come.”

Igor nodded and looked up and out, saying, “Then he is an angel sent from God.”

Ivar made a face as if considering what Igor said, and he smiled a bit as he replied, “You’re right. An angel sent from the gods.”

Asta smiled as that conversation naturally reached its conclusion, and she moved around Ivar to go and hug Igor tightly. “And you, Igor, skated just like a little angel yourself!” she complimented him, and he grinned up at her.

“Do you really think so?” he asked happily, which earned a nod from her.

“I know so,” she answered with a smile. “You were so smooth out there! Perhaps you could teach me, hm? Though I may be too old to learn…”

She started to walk with him back to the Palace, and Ivar stood behind them and watched them go. He could hear Igor laughing, and telling her she wasn’t old, and certainly she wasn’t as old as Oleg, which made her laugh as well.

A small smile formed on his lips as he watched this, and watched them, before finally following along after them. Not that he figured he’d catch up now, but he didn’t mind. It was nice to sit back and watch the two interact, really. Asta, though still young, seemed to have a very natural way with children, and it occurred to him that he was thinking of this for the second time about her- ironically, it was also the second time he’d really just watched her with Igor.

She even walked with an arm around the boy’s shoulders, a move that seemed both protective and affectionate all at once. But, he noticed that they really did look like mother and son as they walked along, and it occurred to him once more that he rather liked the idea of them being his family, now. It wasn’t a difficult fantasy to entertain, as often as they spent time together in the ways a family would. And, truth be told, he didn’t find it a harmful fantasy in the slightest. In fact, it even seemed to warm him from the inside out- a hard thing to do in the cold Rus climate.

Once Igor had been returned to his chambers, Asta and Ivar had said goodbye to him and returned to their own, which felt a bit colder to them now as the winter wore on. Asta, ever one to take up an opportunity, smirked and said to Ivar, “I think I’m going to have a servant come and light our hearth, perhaps bring us something to drink. What do you think of that?”

Ivar chuckled a bit at the suggestion, remembering the previous night at dinner. “You want to make your winter wish come true tonight, do you?” he asked her teasingly. “I think it is a fine idea, though, you are lacking a husband to sit with, are you not?”

Asta giggled a little and walked closer to him cupping his cheek and answering, “What need do I have of a husband when I have you, dear Ivar?” She gave his cheek a quick kiss, and then went to the door to pop out and begin her search for a servant.

Perhaps dangerously, Ivar found himself considering, quite seriously, the idea of really making her his wife, making himself her husband. The idea of entering another marriage unsettled him, as horribly as the last one had gone, and he was comfortable with Asta, the way they were. Yes, they flirted, far more than was needed for the story they sold to Oleg and Katia, and every other person there in Kievan Rus’, and he felt nearly certain that what they shared was something real.

But what damage could he do by giving voice to it, by truly setting the idea before her? He would be putting his heart at her feet, he knew that, and the last time he’d given his heart away, it had been handed back to him crushed, if not tossed back down at his feet. Was he ready to risk such a thing again, to risk Asta rejecting him, for whatever reason, and perhaps leaving him alone, pulling away? He thought it must have been better to have what he did with her, than to ask for more, and lose it all.

His time to debate this ran out as Asta soon returned with a servant, one who came into their chambers and immediately began to tend to their hearth, lighting it and coaxing the flame into a full, warm fire by which they could sit and warm themselves. The servant left once it was ready, to go and fetch them some drinks, and Asta hauled one of the many furs off the bed and dragged it over to the hearth, sitting down under it as Ivar eased himself down beside her.

At first, when she offered him the blanket, he had declined and said he wasn’t all too cold. A quip had been made about Saxons, and how less prepared they were for such cold temperatures, but by the time drinks had been brought to them, and they’d had one or two, he found his shoulder pressed up to hers beneath the blanket. It was far more comfortable than trying to weather the cold alone.

And, that applied to his current dilemma with her, too, didn’t it? Perhaps it was the slight buzz he felt, the alcohol in his blood which loosened his lips, or perhaps he’d truly just made up his mind that he didn’t want to let the possibility fade away, too comfortable with what he had to possibly gain something better. It didn’t really matter, he didn’t guess, because he still opened his mouth, and still asked, “Asta?”

She turned to him with a quiet, “Hm?” not even seeming to be upset that he’d cut her off. He figured that was a good thing, given he wanted her happy when he put his question to her. But oh, how to ask this? How to even begin?

“What do you think you will do when all this is over, hm?” he settled on, tilting his head just a bit. She gave a thoughtful hum, and turned to look at the fire in front of him. 

After a few moments debating, she turned back and asked him, “What will you do?”

“That was not the question,” he answered with a chuckle. “I want to know what you want after this.”

She sighed and returned her gaze to the fire, the flames lighting up her face with their red glow, and reflecting in her eyes. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “Part of me wishes to return to Wessex, and visit my brother. But at the same time… I’m not certain I’d be very welcome there anymore.”

Ivar’s brows creased together some as he asked, “Why would you not be welcome there now?”

“I’ve made quite a name for myself as your Queen, don’t you think? No doubt he’s been told that I’m with you, as opposed to in Kattegat with your brothers. If word has travelled to Kattegat of what I’m called here, then word may reach him, and I don’t know that he’d want to receive me now. Not to mention, we live together as though we’re husband and wife, without being… They’re liable to condemn me as an apostate.”

Asta chuckled, but Ivar could tell it lacked all humor. She was anxious, nervous about what her life since she’d left Wessex might have done to the relationship she had with her final living relative. He could sort of relate to that, having lost all his brothers either to death or simply falling out. His hand moved to rest on her leg, meant to be a comforting gesture, and Asta smiled and covered his hand with her own, taking it. Now, he thought. Now is the time.

“We could… always change that, you know,” he began. 

Asta’s brows creased as she turned to him and asked, “Change what?”

He swallowed. “You say it would offend your people, and possibly drive a wedge between yourself and your brother, if it was discovered that we lived together as though we were married, when we are not,” he said. “But we could…” Her face fell, and something cold seized his heart.

“Ivar,” she said. “No, I don’t mean to say that I want to stop. Believe me, I don’t… I don’t know how I’d go back to life before this. Being with you like this, it’s good. It makes me happy. I never felt alone before, but I know now that if I lost this, I would. I’d rather they mistake me for an apostate than lose this.”

Ivar shook his head, and turned to face her more, reaching across so he could take both her hands in his. “Asta, that is not my meaning. My meaning is that, we could change how they would see us living together this way.” Her eyes widened a bit as she seemed to realise where he was leading with this, and her lips parted slightly.

“Ivar…” she managed, but he held her hands a little tighter, and pushed through.

“Asta, if we were married, they would have no way to criticise the way we behave. And nothing would have to change. We live as husband and wife as it is, and we tell all we encounter here that we are. Why should we not be?” he questioned. “Asta, marry me.”

Her hands tightened in his, and he could see a thousand thoughts running behind her eyes, almost as if she were trying to calculate if this could work. Eventually, she managed to say, “You realize I never want to marry a second time, yes? So if I say yes right now, and we do it…”

She was considering it. Somehow, he’d not believed he would even get this far with it, and yet she was actually considering the possibility.

“I can’t lose you,” she finished. “I know I’ve said so before, but I mean it more so than ever if I agree to this. If we were wed, I could not stand to lose you. I don’t want you to offer this just to save my dignity before my brother and the people of Wessex. I may already be outcasted enough for having become, essentially, Viking. So if you’re only doing this for that reason, and don’t truly want to be my husband… Please, say so now, and we’ll leave it be.”

Ivar shook his head. “We would have to wait until all is done here, as to marry now would reveal we have not been married all along, and it would ruin the little trust we have with Oleg. But when this is done, before we return to Wessex, we could be married.”

Asta smiled at him, in such a way as she seemed about to say yes, but then her face fell, and she sighed. “You can’t know how badly I wish to say yes right now,” she confessed. “I want to say yes, to marry you somewhere between Rus and Wessex, and to truly become your Queen. But if we are honest, do we think Alfred will approve of this? I may have all but given up my titles, but that’s here. In Wessex, they will still expect me to uphold those traditions. You would be expected to ask Alfred to wed me, as no other relatives of mine still live.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes a bit. “You are a Viking Queen,” he said. “Why should you need the permission of a Saxon King to marry, huh?”

Asta gave a small chuckle and shook her head. “I’m not a Viking Queen,” she reminded him. “It’s a story we fabricated to protect us, or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Ivar said, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. “You are my Queen, and when we take Kattegat back from my brothers, I want you to be Kattegat’s Queen, too.”

Asta swallowed, and for a moment, she allowed herself to indulge in a world where she could simply say yes. So, she smiled, covered his hand with hers, and leaned slightly toward him. It came as no shock to her when Ivar leaned in fully, and captured her lips with his.

For the night, Asta decided, she would believe she could be whatever she wished, and she would let herself believe that she could be his.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @katfett, @sylki-simp, @heavenly1927, @pomegranates-and-blood, @kingniazx, @dekusdante

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#ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #alex hogh andersen #ivar's heathen army #ivar x oc #ivar x ofc #ivar x original female character #ivar x christian!oc #vikings #vikings history channel #history channel vikings #not today #chapter thirty-three

[nukyster-blog]

Changing Course Chapter 26) Burdens women bare

.-.-.

It wasn’t their holy day, it wasn’t Sunday. The bells gave that away. As the Giant dragged Ivar across the cobblestoned centre towards the chapel, the bells rang in a peal, echoing their melodic sounds through the castle de Haar. 

The chapel was already packed with the inhabitants, but instead of calm gracing through their most holy chamber, the room was buzzing with excited chatter. Children ran between rows, fighting each other for the closest spots near the altar underneath the high arched windows. 

Was it a special holy day? A possible celebration of spring? 

Ivar sat up and stared across the pompous room. Honestly he didn’t care what reason lay behind his smatter of freedom. It felt thrilling yet intimidating to be out of the shed and placed back into society. To be sitting on a wooden bench instead of laying in filth and hay. Ivar looked around so quickly his eyes nearly fell out; stained glass, the heavy iron bound door, elegant candle holders. The smell of wax and incense. The sounds of foreign chatter, contained coughs, giggling of children, and footsteps echoing between the old stonewalls; it was an overstimulation of Ivar’s dulled brain. The months of utter cold and nothingness, rocking back and forth to keep himself warm in either twilight or dark, had taken its toll on him. 

He did not realise he was physically cramping up and holding his breath until Piglet’s warm and calloused hand formed itself around his. 

Ivar glanced at her hand, with nails bitten and ripped, raw and so small compared to his. She gave him a gentle squeeze and an even softer smile as his eyes trailed back up to read her face. 

“Breath, hamar”, she told him as if she were talking to a small, dumb child. And in that moment Ivar felt like a small dumb child, inhaling a sharp deep breath as his body seemed to have forgotten to do that automatically. 

The bells kept ringing, those insufferable Christian words kept swirling around him like flies. It all came crashing in like  waves in the ocean; the voices, sounds, smells and bile rose in his throat. For a moment, Ivar feared he’d be drowning on land, like a fish. 

To lessen the external rollercoaster he closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths again, blowing out slowly. In order to keep the suffocating thoughts from spiraling out of control he chose a steady anchor to hold onto and held onto the hand of Piglet. Intertwining fingers, he knew his clutch around hers was hurting her. But he could not bring himself to ease his grip, not yet. 

For a solid moment alone, Ivar missed being locked inside the shed. The unsettling boredom, the shackles and chains. The smell of animal dung, mildew, and wet furs. That place was constant, dull, dark and safe. In there he’d been the Bloody Bear of Kattegat, for months, rocking back and forth to keep his mind from breaking and his body from freezing. 

It was impossible to shake that mental state off in a matter of minutes. So Ivar quietly rocked back and forth on the wooden bench, eyes firmly shut close and focussing on merely keeping his body from suffocating. 

“Hamar, breath”, Piglet murmured in his ear, her words tickling his skin, “you’re Viking, think of your Gods.” 

Ivar pressed his forehead against the backside of the wooden bench in front of him and while keeping his eyes shut whispered...“hail All-Father, wise warrior, one-eyed wanderer, come sit at my fire. Tell me your wisdom stories, the scenes your missing eyes sees. You who chooses the slain, look on my deed and when my time comes, to run the sky with you. Let me end be worthy of song. In the meantime, let me feel excitement and poetry and fury and joy. Let me understand sacrifice. Think long, remember well and journey far. Odin, witness this”.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the room  and Ivar reopened his eyes wide, shocked by the sudden lack of sounds and voices. Before he had time to recover from the first surprise he was struck with the next: the presence of the fair-maiden. The young woman stood in the doorway of the heavy iron door, arms hooked with a wealthy man Ivar hadn’t seen before. 

She was draped from head to toe in deep jewel tones, made of velvet, silk and satin. Although the poor thing did her absolute best to keep her face blank from emotion, she had the gait of someone who was about to walk into her own funeral. Every step seemed to take her forever as if she wished to master time and take an eternity to end her walk up to the altar. 

As the fair-maiden started her slow pace, everyone around Ivar rose up to their feet, even Piglet sheepishly participated, urgently tugging on Ivar’s hand to at least try to get up too. 

Ivar abruptly let go of her hand, grabbed the edge of the wooden bench in front of him and pulled himself upon his feet. Unsteady, he leaned heavily on the bench, his legs trembling and spasming underneath him. 

But by the Gods, he was going to keep on standing. And it was not because he obeyed the Christians. He desperately wanted to see the fair-maiden as long as he could and remaining seated meant all he could see were backs, elbows, and arses. 

The fair-maiden walked right by him and instinctively Ivar moved towards her, only to be spitefully elbowed between the ribs by Piglet, who did not condone any foolishness from his behalf. 

For a second time that day Ivar found himself breathless. Barely able to keep himself up on his feet, he gazed at Piglet in utter anger. Unfazed, she glared back at him, motioning her elbow slightly up to warn him she’d do it again if he dare do  anything so drastic and stupid. 

Oh, at times Ivar wished he had enough nails to nail the Giant and Piglet both. 

“Insufferable cunt”, Ivar breathed in her ear as he was forced to stare at the back of the fair-maiden. 

“Thick-head”, she responded with a whisper as all heads turned to the next entry. 

It was Ludolf, wearing a masculine version of the fair-maiden’s look; a three-quarter length tunic with wide sleeves and an open, round neckline. His lop-sided lip was formed into a satisfied smile as he bathed in all the attention. 

Piglet had her elbow already pinned into Ivar’s chest as a warning, while the young man strode along them. A good thing though, because the scars on Ivar’s back seemed to be set on fire the moment he lay eyes on the spineless creature that caused them. Whatever truth may lay in Piglet’s confession about his Djinn, Ivar could feel something inside of him rob his consciousness from his heart, stopping the natural process of guilt and shame and stirring on mere hatred alone. Whatever lurked inside of him, there was a part that fueled on wrath and rage alone. A hunger for destruction of flesh, bones and civilisation. 

“This is not the time”, Piglet expressed breathlessly, summoning back some awareness of their poor status and certain death, if Ivar dared to lunge forward. 

Calculated, Ivar realised he would not be able to make it to Ludolf, he wouldn’t even be able to yap at his ankles as he’d done last time. And Ivar did not need to remind himself what had happened to him after he’d marked the young ruler with his teeth. 

Lowering his head in defeat, Ivar listened as their priest opened his holy book and started speaking. 

A wedding ceremony… Ivar thoughtlessly shook his head, they’d all been prepped up to witness a marriage of convenience. A faithless arrangement between the father of the bride and the father of the groom. Devotion not by heart, but by responsibility and honour. The fair-maiden would be burdened to endure Ludolf until death, barring his children and turning the other cheek. Ivar didn’t understand why he dwelled on that prospect of her future. He’d known for a long time about the arranged marriage. 

But he never thought he’d be witness to her ceremonial doom. Although her path was paved with golden stones, they both shared the same form of dread; being absolutely powerless. Voiceless, nothing more than a piece of meat, auctioned off to the highest bidder. 

After a short welcome, all spectators were informed to sit down. The biblical nonsense took on forever, but the lack of voices and chattering was more than welcome and gave Ivar the time to unwind. 

He watched the fair-maiden from between shoulders and heads. Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was so evident in the crease of her brow and the down-curve of her full lips. Her petite frame seemed so easy to break, shatter at the altar as the burden upon her shoulders became too much for her to carry. 

She was so different from Ivar, so fragile and innocent, although that part of her would soon be demolished. Ivar figured it would die during her wedding night, as the young ruler would claim what was rightfully his. 

“She won’t last long”, Piglet whispered bitterly. Yet her venom was not directed toward the fair-maiden, but to the despicable creature that was about to marry her. 

Ivar failed to respond and watched the exchange of rings. Her hands trembled as Ludolf slid the piece of gold around her finger. A wealthy form of chains and shackles, a symbol of the power he was about to hold over her. His wife. 

The audience was asked to stand, and Ivar did so as quickly as he could. Just in time to see them kiss. It was quick and lacked any sign of affection, but it was enough to simmer up Ivar’s anger. 

The tension that came with that anger was enough to send his right leg into a spasm, causing him to stumble and collapse onto the marble floor. Piglet and the rest of the people in his row glared at his clumsiness, while the rest of the room broke down in celebration. 

Clapping, excited chatter and cheers filled the air and everyone was drawn to the newlyweds. 

Now that he was down, Ivar figured he had nothing to lose. And so he crawled past filthy feet and dirty boots to peek around the rows of benches and stare at the fair-maiden from a different angle. 

The pair were still standing at the altar, holding their intertwined hands into the air to receive all of the applause and best wishes. The fair-maiden had managed to turn her lips into a smile and cautiously glanced at the rows of people. Strangers.

The pair started walking, Ludolf waved at his lessers and the fair-maiden followed him aside, her arm hooked with his and her gaze gracefully lowered to the tips of her toes. That was her future from this day, to obey and keep herself as small as possible. For in this world there was no place for women that spoke their minds with sharp tongues. 

As by faith, the fair-maiden suddenly glanced up and noticed Ivar down on the floor. Keeping himself up on his elbows staring could be their only form of communication. 

It was so evident that she needed something, anything, to hold onto during the darkest hour of her life. A sign that her future might not be painted so grim, the pain so legible in her begging, downturned gaze. 

Ivar drew a little cross on his forehead with his index finger and gave her a gentle nod to convince her to keep her faith. He could feel his own lips burn as the fair-maiden wetted hers and managed to lift them into a halfhearted smile. 

The pair passed Ivar, heading towards what would probably be the biggest celebratory meal of the year. Ivar watched the back of their heads, touching his upper lip while all exited, chattering turned into a buzz. 

Piglet stomped her cold toes harshly into his ribs and gave him a shove to start moving. Oh, if it wasn’t for the major amount of witnesses she’d be having a fit right now. But aside from a few more kicks she could not afford to lash out and quietly walked behind Ivar, who was boiling like a pot of tar, ready to overflow. 

The Giant split them apart. Ivar made a mental note to have the brute crawl through thorn bushes set on fire before slaughtering the man, as he was being dragged over the cobblestones. If it weren’t  for the potato bags, Ivar’s knees would be bruised and scraped back open.

A second miracle appeared today. Instead of being locked back up into the shed, Ivar was being dragged into the Castle’s kitchen. He highly doubted it was due to the Giant’s change of heart, no, the reason for this smatter of freedom was pragmatic; there was a feast coming up and the kitchen needed a few more hands.

So, Ivar was back at peeling and cutting onions, all while crying his eyes out. But it beat the absolute loneliness and boredom of the shed. It was a nice change of atmosphere; the chaos, heat, and mouth watering smells of brisket, soups, and baked potatoes. Little Cunt ruled her kitchen like a warrior, beating her cane against every head thick enough to make a mistake. The workers literally risked their heads and a possible concussion around the pots, pans, knives, and silver pitchers. 

Big Cunt was in charge of the service, every tray would be checked with her prying eyes. Every slip of greasy gravy, wine stained napkin or overcooked slice of meat would be punished with a foul snarl and a slap in the face. Tonight was the feast of the rich, there was no room for mistakes.

Ivar watched the chaotic beehive led by two queens patiently while squinting his eyes. The scent was poison to his eyes, blurring his vision and turning him into a snottering, sniveling mess. 

Piglet’s humble form emerged from the crowd, painfully rubbing the side of her head, an indication that Little Cunt wasn’t pleased with her efforts. Appearing a little lost, her eyes regained a humored glint when she noticed Ivar’s struggle with the mass of torturous vegetables. 

“Welcome back”, Piglet sniggered, collecting the cut onions in a large bowl. 

Ivar refused to respond, wiping vigorously through his eyes in an attempt to rid himself of tears. Once he blinked the blurriness from his vision, Piglet had vanished back into the mass, leaving him to his simpleton duty. 

.-.-.

It must have been well over midnight when the kitchen staff turned from serving to cleaning. Piglet and Ivar were in charge of the counters, which wasn’t in Ivar’s best interest; standing required him to use the support of both his arms. And since he could not magically grow a third arm, he had to balance his support with one arm and two very unwilling legs, all while productively scrubbing away grease. 

The task already took him down two times; the first time resulted in him banging his chin down onto the counter. The second time, he landed hard on his arse as Little Cunt grew tired of his clumsiness and unproductivity. The old hag wacked her cane mercilessly against Ivar’s chinbones.

He had to give it to her, for such an ancient bitch with a crooked back and arthritis, she had the fury and force of a proper shieldmaiden. 

This, however, did not change the fact that Little Cunt was now the third person on Ivar’s hitlist. He’d butcher her like a pig, using her own set of cherished kitchen knives. And then cook her up in the largest cauldron to serve her to the fat rulers of de Haar.

Ivar envisioned how the flesh would slowly loosen from her brittle bones, oh he’d use her own cane to stir her body around until she’d turned into a decent stew. Maybe ask Piglet to piss in it, too. 

As if the slave could read his mind, Piglet dropped the entire content of one of the serving trays. A fortune of silverware crashed down onto the floor, while red wine splattered the cabinets. 

It looked like a murder scene, and Little Cunt was about to commit the crime. The old woman let out a bloody warcry and chased after Piglet with her cane waving around like a flag. 

It was entertaining to watch Piglet wear the Little Cunt down, because the older woman was no match for the speed and swiftness of Piglet. Little Cunt eventually settled with beating the life out of the closest person in reach before letting out a shaky breath and faint from lack of air and probably old age. 

Big Cunt was on a rescue mission to save the dignity of her commander and unleashed her fury onto Piglet. It was a one-sided engagement of scratching, punching, and hair pulling which ended with Piglet on her knees, her face pressed into the mess she’d made. 

Of course there was laughter and ridicule, but it quickly evolved into concern about the well-being of Little Cunt. 

As most of the kitchen staff circled around their hated leader, while Big Cunt cried bloody murder, Ivar crawled out to Piglet to help her pick up the piece of silverware.

Three red gashes marked her face, a gift from Big Cunt, but Piglet’s face was lit with stubborn satisfaction.  

“You might have slayed the old dragon Piglet”, Ivar muttered as two members of the kitchen staff hoisted Little Cunt up onto her feet to drag her away. The old woman spat out some feisty mumbling, but lost the strength to bash heads in. 

“Did you plan this?”, Ivar continued.

Piglet glanced at him through her lashes and carefully touched one of the three fingernail scratches on her cheek. 

“Ivar the bloody, Ivar de Martelaar, Ivar the dog with muzzle,” she summoned up mockingly, “you have enough nicknames, no room for another; Ivar-bashed-up-knees”. Piglet pointed at the red wine stained floor and cabinet. “You clean that, I clean counter, you’re useless standing.” 

And so Ivar was given the task to clean up after Piglet until the early hours of morning. But with both his crippled legs intact. 

.-.-.

A/N: Yeah #teampiglet all the way. Ivar’s savage guardian angel. So this chapter was another interesting one to write. I felt the need to highlight the mental damage winter left behind. I just couldn’t let the fact slide that Ivar has been locked up for months, while fighting bitter cold, in twilight or dark, spending endless hours all alone. So yeah, to then be alright and function while being dragged into a overcrowded place...nop, that felt wrong. 

So I guess you could say he had a mild panic attack right before the ceremony. And then to watch the fair-maiden being married off to Ludolf, oh what a monstrosity I am as the writer. 

Also, I did a little bit of research about the wedding ceremony. During this era the wedding dress wasn’t white but blue, so there you go. This time Piglet took one for the team, I’m happy to end with a little humor for a change. I like how she’s able to get what she wants while being the weakest link in the room. Ivar and Piglet, two peas in a pod.

This was it for this week again, hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter and it would be lovely if you’ve let me know what your thoughts are. 

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The tagged ones:@youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax @saldelys​ @shannygoatgruff@pieces-by-me@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa@readsalot73@lauraan182 @conaionaru@sarahh-jane@peachybonelessIf you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless #ivar oc #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: A Different Time (Final)

Summary: Now that they know how to go home it is time for the Vikings to go back to their own century.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent, @sparklemichele

To say that the mood had been ruined by Sigurd last night would be a massive understatement.

Neither you nor Ivar even had the energy to speak about what had just happened, even if you did what would you say?

“I love you and we are perfect for each other but you need to go back to a land before toilet paper.”

Yeah right.

So you both just went to sleep.

Now you were waking up and Ivar was gone, but you knew last night hadn’t been a dream because your laptop was open with all kind of nonsense typed into the Google search bar. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Ivar had woken up before you and messed with your computer.

With a small sigh you closed the laptop and got out of bed to take a quick shower and brushed your teeth.

Dressed in pajamas you walked into the den and found everyone sitting around, looking very deep in thought.

‘I take it Ivar told you all about Sigurd.’ you guessed.

‘He did, he is also spouting nonsense about wanting to stay.’ Bjorn said with a scowl.

‘It is not nonsense, we have been for three days and nothing seems to have changed. Why leave if there is no reason?’ Ivar argued.

‘We all have reasons! I have a wife and children, and an entire country to raid! Not to mention that if we are all here what will happen to Kattegat? Hmmm? Our father’s kingdom, King Finehair has been waiting for years to take it over. What will keep him from doing so if we are here?!’ Bjorn shouted.

‘I do not care about Kattegat! What is it to me?! What was it to Father?! He was never there! All he wanted to do was get away from that barren place, so much so that he found England and Paris.’ Ivar spat.

‘You knew your father a short while Ivar, I knew him most of my life. Yes, Ragnar hated ruling, but he knew it was his home. Its where his family was, it’s the world he built for his sons.’ Lagertha said.

‘Why are you so keen on returning Lagertha? Are you really so eager to face me in combat?’ Ivar growled.

Lagertha smiled softly before she stood from her seat in the armchair.

‘I may not be eager, but be assured I’m ready.’

‘Hey! None of that! Not here, save all of that for when you are home. Ivar...you all are going home, I don’t like it either but Bjorn is right. You all have big roles in history as well as lives to live, you can’t just stay here.’ you said with finality.

Ivar looked visibly upset but said nothing back, and the others all seemed to take that as Ivar agreeing.

‘Good, now take the ax and send us all back.’ Bjorn said impatiently.

‘Wait.’ you said before you could stop yourself.

‘What is it?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Let’s go out, one last time. We could go to a park, get in one last good memory together before you go back.’ you said.

Sure you were procrastinating but you couldn’t help it, you really didn’t want them to leave. You didn’t want to go back to waking up alone and only having the television to keep you company.

‘I agree with (Y/N), I do not wish to have our time with her end on a sour note.’ Hvitserk said as he moved to stand between Ivar and Lagertha.

Ivar scowled at Lagertha one last time before he nodded.

‘Good, let’s go and get dressed. We can get you all ready to leave when we come back.’ you said.

The air in the room was still heavy but everyone moved to their rooms. 

As you picked out your clothes you kept having to tell yourself that you were doing the right thing, but it was hard to feel that way when all you wanted was for them to stay. 

Nonetheless, you pushed your own emotions to the side and finished putting on your sundress and white sandals. 

While you were putting on some lotion someone knocked on your door.

‘One second.’ you called before standing up and opening the door, revealing Ubbe.

‘Is everyone ready?’ you asked.

‘Not yet, but I wanted to tell you how much we all appreciate you doing this. I know it is not easy, but it is necessary.’ he said.

You nodded, keeping your eyes closed to keep them from watering.

‘Yeah, I know, but let’s not talk about it. I want to enjoy the last day with you all as much as I can.’ you smiled.

The two of you left your room and went to wait on the couch for everyone else.

While you were going through your purse making sure you had everything you needed you got a good idea.

‘Hey Ubbe come here.’ you did, motioning for him to sit closer to you.

He looked confused but did as you asked, once he was close enough you held up your phone.

‘What is this?’ Ubbe asked in wonder as he looked at his own image on your screen.

‘A picture, I want to have a few things to remember you all by, just look at the phone and smile.’ you explained.

Ubbe smiles and you do the same, once you were satisfied with angle you snapped the pic.

‘Yay, you are very photogenic.’ you comment as you showed him the picture.

‘What does that mean?’ 

‘It means you look good.’

‘Well I could have told you that much.’ he said smugly.

For the next minute or so you and Ubbe take more selfies and once everyone else came out you got one with each of them, all of them being fascinated to see their own image.

‘I really am quite handsome.’ Hvitserk said.

‘So humble Hvitserk.’ you smiled.

‘Come on, we can get breakfast at a diner, one that I don’t work at.’ you said.

You all moved out and loaded yourselves into the car.

As you drove the car was filled with joyous conversations, the vikings were speaking of all the things they would miss from this time and all the things they missed from their own.

While it was great to see that they were all excited in the backseat you couldn’t help but notice that Ivar was not participating in the conversation at all.

You reach over and put a hand on his and gave it a squeeze, if only to show that you saw that he was upset and you cared.

Once you arrived at the diner and got out you all headed inside, you were glad it wasn’t busy right now so you got a good table.

The server got everyone’s order, just the usual breakfast plates for everyone and orange juice for you.

‘So...this is it for us, our last meal together.’ you said.

‘It is, I must say that we will all miss you (Y/N).’ Lagertha said.

‘Aw I’ll miss you guys too.’

‘I’m going to miss this world, I wish I could have seen more of it, especially those sex toys. It would be amazing to have a mouth in my satchel for long journeys.’ Hvitesrk sighed.

Bjorn hummed a noise of agreement.

‘What are you whining for, you grab a girl on every raid, more than that if you are overly excited.’ Ubbe teased.

‘Been a little busy if you hadn’t noticed, not been on a raid in ages.’

‘You’ve got girls all over York too.’ Ivar said as he took a sip of water.

‘It gets boring having the same six girls.’ Hvitserk shrugged.

‘Six? You have that many?’ you asked.

‘Not that much.’

After that the rest of breakfast was spent chatting, laughing and teasing; it was as if the gloomy cloud had temporarily vanished and left everyone to enjoy their time together.

Even Ivar was laughing and making jokes with Ubbe and Bjorn, you imagine this was how they all were before everything happened.

Eventually everyone finished their food and you paid and tipped the server before you all headed to the park, you made sure not to go to the popular spots like the new playground or the lake.

You parked in the older play area, nothing was wrong with it, but a few years ago the city had built a bigger and better one closer to the lake so parents could watch their kids play while fishing.

‘What is this?’ Ubbe asked as he helped Ivar into his chair.

‘A playground, little kids used to come here to play, no one comes to this one anymore.’ you answered.

‘Did you play here?’ Hvitserk asked as he moved toward the swing set.

‘Yeah, here sit here and keep your feet off the ground.’ you smiled as you ran over and placed the viking in the swing.

Confused he followed the directions and once you were sure he was situated you began pushing him on the swing.

‘Swing your legs but keep your feet off the ground.’

The others were fascinated and curious to see what other wonders your favorite childhood play place had to offer. Within ten minutes Ubbe and Hvitserk were on the swings, Bjorn was spinning Lagertha on the merry go round and you were running Ivar all over the wheelchair track.

Everyone was having a good time and you felt like a little kid again, except you were not in that great a shape as you were back then so you had to stop to catch your breath.

‘Hold on...whew!’ you panted.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah, totally...just need to a second.’ 

‘No more running for you.’ he suggested.

‘Thank you.’ you said as you began to push his chair again, walking this time.

‘Father would have loved you...Mother too.’ 

‘I would have loved to meet them.’ 

‘Do you think your mother and father would like me?’ Ivar asked.

‘My Mama would be thrilled that I let her meet you, if only to tell you embarrassing stories about me, my Dad? He’d try to kill you...if he doesn’t kill me first.’ 

‘Why? Because I’m crippled?’

‘Because you’re a boy, I’m his first born and he seems to think I’m still too young for anything involving a boy. Eventually he’d back off enough to drink a beer with you, and I’d have to remind him that I’m an adult.’ you replied.

‘What do you think would happen if I did stay?’

‘Ivar-’ you sighed.

‘I know that I can’t, but what if I did? What would happen between us (Y/N)?’

For a minute you didn’t reply, thinking it over in your head, what would happen if Ivar could stay here.

‘Who knows, maybe we would be together and everything will be amazing, I’d find a way for you to be able to go out in public and we’d live happily ever after.’ you hummed.

‘Or I would one day let my anger get the best of me and push you away, like I do with everyone I love.’ Ivar said.

You saw an old bench under a tree and placed Ivar beside it before you took a seat.

‘Maybe it would be my religion that pushes you away from me, Ivar you would not be the only one at fault if things went bad.’

Ivar took your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

‘Want to know what would happen if I could take you with me?’ he asked.

‘What would happen if I could go with you to Kattegat?’ you asked with a smile.

‘I would make you my wife, and I would plan a grand wedding so massive even Freya would attend to bless our marriage. Then I would make it my mission to fill you with as many children as possible.’ Ivar said.

You chuckled, not at all surprised by how large Ivar’s dream already was, he was very famous for his ambitions.

‘How many kids, all boys?’ you asked, placing your head on his shoulder.

‘At least seven, and of course a man needs daughters to spoil.’

‘Nothing is worse than a spoiled little girl.’ you scoffed.

‘You would keep her humble...just like you would have kept me sane.’ he whispered.

‘You are not crazy Ivar, you do not need me to tell you that. You are no different from any other man, except in the fact that you are the greatest man that I have ever met in my life.’ you said seriously. 

Ivar looked shocked to hear such kind words spoken to him and seemed too stunned to even speak, so he just squeezed your hand gently as he looked away.

The two of you sat there in comfortable silence, listening to the birds and bugs, just enjoying each other’s company while you could.

Eventually Ubbe came to find the two of you to tell you everyone was ready to go home.

His words held a deeper meaning, it was not your home he was talking about.

The ride was filled with silence this time , as everyone seemed to take in the fact that they were really about to leave. No more discovering all the new technology, learning all the new customs or trying new foods; once they got back to your house they would say their official goodbyes to you and your world.

While they came to terms with that you were dreading going back to living alone in that house again. Once they were gone you would go back to quiet mornings, shopping and cooking for one, and spending a majority of your time either on the couch or in your bed.

More than anything you were feared seeing Ivar leave, you knew in your heart that you would never find another guy like him. A guy who would make you feel the way he did emotionally.

It was something you noticed while you were comforting him during his panic attack, sure at the time he was clearly not feeling his best but you had remained calm in the situation. Something you had been trained to do since your brother did have seizures often when he was younger, keeping calm is important in that situation. While whenever you had to deal with that type of thing you acted composed, but inside you were always panicking.

With Ivar you were genuinely calm, you knew he would be okay and had no worries. It was as if you knew nothing would ever break him, he was Ivar the Boneless. A man who would become history’s most notorious viking, he would conquer an entire world when he went home.

You could not keep him from that, no matter how much it broke your heart to let him go.

Soon you were parked in your driveway and there was no more time to take it all in, it was time for them to leave.

Everyone got inside and you told them to gather all of the things you had bought them that they wanted to take with them. As they did that you went to the garage and got all their weapons and the bag filled with the clothes they were wearing on when they first dropped into your pool.

In less than half an hour you were all in your living room, they were back in their battle clothes with their weapons and holding a few things they’d chosen to take with them.

Hvitserk had a small necklace with a cute crown charm, he said it was for Ubbe’s wife, a woman called Margrethe. Lagertha had a ceramic owl that she said reminded her of a pet she had back home. Ubbe was holding an hourglass and he was also holding Ivar’s snow globe. Bjorn had taken a ship in a bottle that he claimed to only be taking to assure himself he hadn’t gone crazy and imagined all of this.

Ivar sat in his chair, with his eyes focused on his bound legs.

‘OK you guys please just remember that before you die you have to burn these things to ash.’ you told them.

‘Why?’ Hvitserk asked.

‘Historians spend years and years digging up things you guys left behind, it would be weird if they found a necklace that was made in China in twenty eighteen with a bunch of viking swords. Don’t leave any evidence of this stuff, swear it to me.’ you begged.

‘We swear it on our rings.’ Bjorn said honestly.

‘Good now there is one thing left.’ you said.

‘Saying goodbye.’ Hvitserk said sadly.

‘I’m going to miss you guys.’ you managed to say as a lump formed in your throat.

Hvitserk and Ubbe stepped forward and pulled you into a group hug, you ignored the stink of their clothes and how rough the armor felt against your skin, you just held them as close as you could.

‘We will never forget you (Y/N), you’re the one we lost.’ Hvitserk said as he pulled back.

‘No matter what happens when we get back home I want you to know that my first daughter will have your name.’ Ubbe smiled.

‘Oh that’s so cute.’ you smiled as you wiped your tears.

The two of them stepped aside and allowed Lagertha to pull you into a hug all her own, she held you tightly in a way that only a mother could.

‘You will always be a daughter to me, I am sad to leave you.’ she said before pulling back and placing a kiss on your forehead.

Then Bjorn stepped forward and kept his eyes on anything but you.

‘We are all thankful to you for housing us and feeding us in our time of need, none of us will forget your kindnesses, this I swear on both my arm ring and my life.’ he said formally.

You rolled your teary eyes and hit him in the chest.

‘Shut up and give me a hug you mean old man.’ you said as you wrapped your arms around him as best as you could, certain that you looked like a child next to such a large man.

‘I will miss you too Bjorn.’ you said.

Now came the last person you wanted to say goodbye to, Ivar; and by the way he was still looking down you assumed he didn’t want to hear it either.

‘Ivar.’

Before you could say anything past his name Ivar had suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you down into his lap.

‘Don’t say it. Let me imagine that I will see you again one day...please don’t say it.’ he whispered into your ear.

You tried closing your eyes to keep the tears from falling but it did not work; you hadn’t actually stopped crying since you started but now you were all out bawling into Ivar’s shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you as you sobbed, and you were sure that you felt a few tears on your shoulder as well but Ivar didn’t move an inch or make a sound.

With all the willpower you had in your body you pulled back and placed a kiss on his lips, not a deep or lustful, but you tried to bid him farewell this way since neither of you could handle it being said out loud.

‘I will see you again.’ he said.

‘Yeah, and we’ll have that big Viking wedding you promised me.’ you said, trying to smile through your sobs.

‘Then you will give me many children.’

‘Dozens of them.’ you said as you stood up and turned away from everyone, if only to give all of yourself a minute to regain your composure.

Once you had finally silenced your sobs you turned back around and found Bjorn holding the ax.

‘It is time for us all to go home Ivar.’ he said as he held out the weapon.

‘Finally.’

Everyone jumped as Sigurd appeared, standing by the fireplace.

‘Sigurd.’ Ubbe said in awe.

‘Did you miss me brother?’ Sigurd asked with a smile.

‘Of course I do, we all do.’ Ubbe said.

‘It has been chaos since you died, as you have noticed.’ Hvitserk said.

‘It couldn’t have all been avoided, but some of it could have been.’ the ghost said passive aggressively.

‘Why are you here Sigurd? Is me making the sacrifice not enough, do you need to see it too?’ Ivar spat.

‘I am only here for one thing, and is none of your concern, you’ve said your goodbyes to the woman you love, now take the ax and make your sacrifice.’ 

Ivar looked ready for a fight but Ubbe’s hand on his shoulder let him know that this was not the time to lose his temper.

Bjorn once again held the sword to Ivar.

You dug your fingernails into your palms to keep yourself from knocking the ax out of Bjorn’s hand.

‘Take the ax.’ you forced yourself to say.

Ivar looked over at you and he just looked deep into your eyes, before saying the one thing you needed to hear from him before he left.

‘I love you.’ he whispered before he put his hand on the ax.

At first you thought you were imagining the sky blue glow that seemed to be coming off of all of them, but after you blinked and it was still there you knew it was real.

They were all glowing, and the brighter that beautiful blue glow became the harder it was for you to see the vikings. Eventually the light was so bright you had to close your eyes to shield them from the glow.

Soon the light dimmed enough for you to open your eyes again, but there was nothing there. 

The only thing left in front of you was an empty wheelchair, and as much as you thought you had been prepared for it the wave of absolute loneliness knocked the wind out of you.

You barely recognized the wrecked noise that clawed its way out of your throat as you broke down literally to your knees.

It felt as if you were going to be physically sick from how hard you were sobbing, but you couldn’t stop.

‘Do not cry Miss.’ Sigurd said, his voice softer than it was before as he placed a cold hand on your shoulder.

‘Leave!’ you snapped at the ghost as you stood up and turned on him.

‘I will, but not before I put you at ease.’ 

‘How can you put me at ease?! I just met and lost what may have been the love of my life because of some stupid siblings rivalry from centuries ago!’ you yelled.

In anger you pushed him back, mildly surprised when your hands actually make solid contact.

‘Believe me I understand a broken heart and I know that right now you curse me and blame me for the ache in your chest, but allow me to put some of your worries to rest. Let me tell you how Ivar lived his days without you.’

You did not want to hear that right now, you were still trying to cope with the fact that Ivar was long dead now, but you knew that later on you would go nuts wondering what happened to Ivar.

‘Tell me.’ you said as you sat down on the couch, taking the time to wipe away your tears.

‘Ivar had many great victories in battles and war, and many failures in love. He never forgot you, and he never found a woman he could love as much as he did you.’ Sigurd said

You felt like a shit person for feeling any amount of comfort in those words, but you were a little glad to know that Ivar didn’t forget you.

‘Was he happy?’ you managed to ask.

‘...No, Ivar could never truly be happy without you by his side, but he tried to be for your sake. He died in his bed an old man in one of his many kingdoms, with his wife and children at his side.’

Your eyes watered at that bit of information, and you were unsure if you were sad or happy about it.

‘He had children.’ you repeated.

‘Yes, and he left you a message...here.’ Sigurd said as he held out the ax to you.

At first you had no desire to touch it, but you did notice carving all over the handle that wasn’t there before.

Reluctantly you took it and saw that it was in fact writing, it was the English alphabet but you didn’t understand the language. You remembered Ivar wanting to learn to read and write in English, but you never got the chance to teach him so this was most likely Old English or Latin.

‘What does it say?’

‘It says, To my love, I’ve missed you everyday since I last saw you. It has been thirty four years since that sad day, and I am on my deathbed. My wife is sleeping beside me, I must say that in a way I do love her, she gave me many children, but it is not the love I have for you. I sometimes deep in my mind curse myself for not being a filthy Christian, if I were I could see you in heaven one day and be happy with you.’ the ghost read.

Your knuckles were white from how hard you were gripping the ax, you were determined to stop crying this instant.

‘Ivar was better for meeting you, and so was his personal life with our brothers, and because of you I can finally dine with father in Valhalla. For that I am thankful to you, as are the Gods, they will not forget your sacrifice. When you are ready, they will bless you, farewell Miss.’ he said before he vanished just as he had last night.

Now alone, you began crying again, the sound of your sobs seeming to echo through the empty house.

It felt like all you did for the next two weeks was cry as you moved around the house cleaning the rooms the Vikings had used. The last room you did was your sister’s, the room that Ivar used.

You slept in there until Ivar’s scent left the sheets.

Eventually you had to return to work after your vacation was over, but your boss was still very upset about the altercation that had happened during your last visit. He had been cutting your hours and giving you dead shifts that required a lot more work with less tips.

After a month of this you were fed up and got a job at the buffet with your friend, the pay was better since it was hourly and you were also given tips.

Your finances were greatly improved but your mother needed a very expensive surgery and you couldn’t afford to throw all your money into that without putting your siblings allowances at risk.

So you figured the best thing to do was to list your home on Air B&B for extra money. It really killed two birds with one stone, you were able to afford the procedure and the house was alive again.

The guest kept you busy and some were real cheapskates but it was better than doing nothing all day and crying.

One afternoon you went to your email and saw that someone wanted to use your home for the next two months while he and his friends looked for more permanent homes in the city.

You emailed back and you both agreed on the price and time period before you finalize everything. 

At last came the day and you were making sure everything was ready for your guest, the bedrooms were clean and the fridge stocked. 

Like usual you took off the day of your guests arrival so you could give them the tour and you always like to prepare them dinner on the first night to introduce your guests to Texas.

There was a knock on your door and you went to open the door with a smile like always, but your polite smile quickly became a dropped jaw.

It was Ivar! 

Standing right at your front door, your mind was filled with a million questions. How was he here, how is he standing, what the hell is going on?! 

None of those questions could fall from your lips because before you could catch yourself they were on his.

You had thrown yourself into his arms and kissed him, overwhelmed by a flood of joy to be seeing him again after all these months.

He pulled away and looked at you awkwardly.

‘Um excuse Miss.’ he said with a stunned face.

You backed away and looked at him, taking in his jeans, muscle shirt and the headphones around his neck.

This was not Ivar, not your Ivar anyway.

‘Is this how you greet all your guest or am I special?’ he smiled nervously.

‘I-I uh… oh my God I’m so sorry I thought you were someone else entirely.’ you apologized, completely mortified. 

‘No no, it is fine, I can think of worse greetings.’ he smiled.

You shift your feet nervously as an awkward silence fell over you two.

‘Anyway, I am Alex Høgh Anderson.’ he said, mercifully breaking the silence.

‘Of course, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) welcome to Dallas.’ you said.

Before he could reply you heard a car door close, causing you to look behind Iv- Alex and you saw Ubbe and Hvitserk.

This time you refrained from running up to them, not wanting another awkward moment.

‘Let me introduce you, these are my buddies Jordan and Marco, guys this (Y/N) she will be hosting us.’ he introduced.

The two of them greeted you politely with waves and short hellos. 

Jordan was wearing sweats, while Marco was in straight up pajamas.

You step aside and let them all in to begin showing them around the house.

As you walked around you were struggling to keep calm, but you managed to get through it.

Of course Alex was the last one to be shown to his room while the others began unpacking. 

‘Ok this is the master bedroom, the bathroom is stocked with towels and toiletries let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the kitchen cooking if you have any questions.’ you said.

‘Thank you and um...whoever you thought I was must have been a very lucky guy.’ Alex smiled.

You blushed as you left the room to scurry into the kitchen to start on dinner.

The second you entered the kitchen you nearly ran back out.

‘I take it you did not miss me.’ Sigurd smiled.

The ghost looked much better than he had last time, his clothes were no longer bloodied and he appeared to be brighter now.

‘What the fuck are you doing here? And what the hell have you and your Gods done to Ivar, Ubbe and Hvitserk?’ you whispered angrily.

‘Nothing, my brothers are all feasting in Valhalla, those are regular men that the Gods lead to you. What happens now is all up to you.’ 

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I told you that the Gods would not forget what you have done, nor would they leave you heartbroken.’ he said.

‘A replacement?’ you asked.

‘Who are you talking to?’ Jordan asked as he came into the kitchen.

You looked back to where Sigurd had been literally a second ago but of course he was not there now.

‘Just myself, trying to decide what to make for dinner.’ you lied.

‘Oh yeah Alex said you would make dinner some nights. I was just coming to ask for the WiFi password.’ 

You gave him the password and also took the time to ask him if any of them had any food allergies, thankfully none of them did.

‘Great, I’m sure you and your friends are all tired after getting off the plane, you can all chill out in the rooms while I cook.’ 

He thanked you and headed out, leaving you alone once more, for a minute you waited for Sigurd’s ghostly self to pop up again but he didn’t.

As you began cooking you think back to when you first developed feelings for Ivar, and how strong they were. It had taken you so long to even begin to move on and live day to day without crying at the thought of him.

You did not think you could ever feel that strongly about another man again, and a small part of you didn’t know if you wanted to.

Nearly two and a half hours later you were done with dinner; the chickens were baked, potatoes roasted, broccoli buttered and steamed and rolls were glazed with sweet honey butter. For desert you thought ice cream would do fine, since you were not sure if they would be still be hungry after dinner.

After you set the table you got out a simple bottle of champagne and put on ice, once you were satisfied that everything was ready you went to get your guests.

You never opened the bedrooms if the door was closed, it just seemed like a rude thing to do, especially if the person was a paying guest.

Jordan got right up when you knocked and told you he would get Marco, since apparently he was a heavy sleeper. Which you knew to be true when he burst into Marco’s room and you saw him straight belly flop onto his friend.

You tried not to laugh as you knocked on Alex’s door, telling him that the food was ready and he opened the door wearing sweats now. 

‘Thank you, I was starving.’ he yawned as he stretched.

‘Good I cooked plenty, should put you all right back to sleep.’ you smiled.

‘Already trying to get me in bed?’ he teased.

‘You are not going to let that go are you?’ you asked.

‘My first kiss in a new country? Nah I’m going to hold on to it for a while.’ he smiled.

‘Whatever, lets just eat, hopefully Marco is up.’ you said as the two of you walked down the hall.

‘The foods ready?’ Marco said as he finally came out of his room, wide awake with a completely exhausted Jordan behind him.

‘Yes it is.’

Finally you were all seated at the table eating and drinking while you all got better acquainted with each other since they would be staying here for two months.

‘Wait so you guys are opening a shop?’ you asked.

‘Sort of, we design and build custom furniture, the company we work for decided to go international and opened a location out here and sent us to start it off.’ Jordan said.

‘That is so dope, I actually was looking to redo the front room, maybe I’ll be customer number one.’ you smiled.

‘And we would make sure your furniture was our best work, least we could do after this amazing meal. I don’t even eat broccoli but this is delicious.’ Marco complimented.

‘Aw thank you so much.’ you smiled.

The night went on and not a crumb was left of anything, you all were full and ready to go to bed for the night.

You all got up and headed to your rooms, your room was right across from Alex’s so you two were the last ones left in the hall.

‘Um, Alex.’ you said before he could go into his room.

He turned back to you and you inwardly cursed because a small part of you hoped he hadn’t actually heard you.

‘I just wanted to say thanks, for not telling the others about...you know.’ 

‘Why would I? You don’t tell too many people when you find such a great treasure.’ Alex smiled down at you.

You were so (pleasantly) surprised by his straightforward flirtation that you couldn’t think of what to say.

Luckily Alex took mercy on your awkward self.

‘I was wondering if you would like to go out for coffee and a walk tomorrow morning. The other two will no doubt sleep until two in the afternoon if we let them.’ Alex suggested.

He had just asked you out for a date, like a real date! You hadn’t been out with any man since Ivar and the rest of his family had left, in fact you hadn’t been thinking about romance at all.

Maybe Sigurd was right and it was time to change that. Ivar would have wanted you to be as happy as you could be.

‘I would love to.’ 

‘Great, um is eight a good time?’ he asked.

‘It’s perfect, I will see you then, good night.’ you said before you finally went into your own room.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart. When you opened your eyes they fell on the ax on your bedside table.

With a sad sigh you walked over to it and ran your hand over the carving.

‘He’s not you Ivar, I could never expect him to be, but I will try to be happy with him. Just as I’m sure you tried to be happy for me.’ you said softly.

#ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #alex hogh andersen #alex x reader #vikings imagine #modern!vikings #Ubbe Lothbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #Bjorn Ironside #lagertha #final chapter

[shannygoatgruff]

Big Scary Love

(Header made by the talented @flowers-in-your-hayr​)

For @a-mess-of-fandoms​ Kayla’s 1K Writing Challenge: Prompt #20 (prompt in bold in text below)

Characters: Ivar || Ubbe

Genre:  Romance

Warning: None

Rating: PG

Summary: A little brother seeks approval as he’s about to make the biggest decision of his life.

A/N: I was supposed to have written and submitted this one-shot for @a-mess-of-fandoms​​ months ago, but I suck! I have struggled with this thing so much. I have literally rewritten it 19 times. I don’t know why one-shots are so hard for me. The only have to be one scene, but I struggle with did I choose the right scene, how much do I want to say about it, did I find resolution? Needless to say, I was never happy with anything I wrote. It still didn’t turn out exactly as I hoped, but it’s close.

Congrats on your many followers! I’m sorry I’m so late.

Big Scary Love

Lothbrok’s Bar and Grille sat approximately two miles south off of exit 131B  between Kattegat and Hedeby. 

Established in 1990, the bar was built from the ground up by the Sigurdsson brothers, Ragnar and Rollo, as a place where the blue-collar people of both towns could get a good meal and stiff drink. It was also the place where Ragnar’s sons had grown up and naturally where they chose to carry on the childhood tradition of their monthly family game night. 

Dating back to when Bjorn first taught Ubbe and Hvitserk how to play Go Fish, when they were the ages of 6 and 4. respectively, the boys would meet at a table in the back of the restaurant to play games. It helped keep them close, especially since Bjorn lived in Hedeby with Lagertha and the other boys lived in Kattegat with Aslaug. But, the bar was in the middle, on neutral territory. It provided a place where they could all gather and remain close when distance and the common dislike between the adults threatened to tear them apart.  

Almost thirty years later the tradition continues at 7:30 pm on the third Thursday of the month. Bjorn and his wife Gunnhild, Ubbe along with his wife Torvi, Hvitserk and his girlfriend Amma, Sigurd with his boyfriend Kalf, and Ivar who vowed to start bringing his girlfriend, Cami, would gather, at the table in the back left corner, to play the game of choice according to whose name was next on the chalkboard. 

Watching the door, Ivar’s brows raise when he recognizes his older brother cross the threshold. Slowly, he continues to organize the colorful money so that all the faces aligned in the same direction and before placing it back in the bank. A quick nod acknowledges the fact that Ubbe is headed to the bar to get a drink before he takes a seat at the large table in the back corner of the room, already set for the brothers’ monthly game. Tonight’s game is his pick, Monopoly.

Ubbe shivers slightly, trying to knock off the outside chill as he brushes the fresh snow from his black wool pea coat. As he approaches the bar, he removes his gloves and smiles at his younger brother. “Hvitserk,” he sings, clasping the younger Ragnarsson’s hand before drawing him into a manly hug, “How’s it going, brother?”

“Pretty good,” Hvitserk answers patting his brother on the back with a smile, “What are you doing here so early? We’re not supposed to meet for another,” he looks up at the clock built into the ship’s wheel on the far wall, “hour.”

“Ah,” Ubbe puts one his foot on the wooden rungs of the bar stool and balances his weight on his other leg while he plays with the coaster, “Ivar asked me to meet him here early.” He looks over his right shoulder toward the table in the back and holds up a finger to his youngest brother and then points to the bar to ask if he would like a drink. “Do you know what’s up with him?”

“He probably wants you to help him cheat,” Hvitserk explains as he takes the towel from over his shoulder and wipes down the side of the bar to Ubbe’s left. “The usual?” He prepares two drinks, when Ubbe holds up two fingers, for both of his brothers. “Oh, Angrboda just made a huge pot of Helga’s seafood stew.”

Ubbe’s eyes light up as he nods his head, “That sounds great. I’m fucking freezing. Send over a large bowl with bread, yeah?” He knocks on the bar twice, as is customary, before picking up the glasses and makes his way to the table.   

Ubbe sits the drinks on the table and smiles cheerfully, “Hey, baby boy.” He walks around and hugs his brother’s head before leaning down to kiss him on the top of his hair, “How you doing, kid? You good?” Receiving a pat on his forearm, he playfully pushes Ivar away before flopping down on a chair beside him.

“Hey,” Ivar answers watching his brother sit, holding an awkward smile on his lips, “thanks for meeting me early.” He takes a look out the window at the falling snow covering up his uneven footprints on the sidewalk, “It’s getting bad out there?”

“Nah, not really. Should have a good covering come morning, but nothing too bad.” Ubbe picks up his glass and takes a drink, stretching his lips across his teeth as the sour taste of the vodka gimlet settles on his tongue. He takes note of the way his brother is arranging the game pieces and watches for a moment before he speaks, “So…what’s going on? Why did I need to meet you here before the others?”

Ivar takes a sip of the Guinness Stout and picks up the Chance cards to arrange them all in the same direction, “Well, uh, Ubbe. I wanted to talk to you, about…about, Camille.”

“What about her?” Ubbe isn’t sure where this conversation is headed. He’s only met her a handful of times and she seems nice enough, though he’s not sure she’s the one for Ivar. There’s no reason for him to feel that way, it’s just something in his gut that says the relationship will be short-lived. 

“So,” Ivar takes in a deep breath. Having rehearsed his speech for the better part of the day, he struggles to remember to pace himself and breathe, “You know we’ve been together for a little over a year now and things are going in a really good direction with us. She’s moving in with me. We’ve even talked about looking for a small house together.” He looks up from the game box to gauge his brother’s reaction. Unable to read Ubbe’s face he continues, “I want to ask her to marry me.”

Ubbe coughs down the gimlet that gets caught in his throat as he swallows. He sits back in the chair and leans against the backrest folding his arms across his chest. He tries to keep his mouth closed to let his brother finish but the words start to spill out his mouth, “Oh, Ivar,” he chuckles, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” 

“Why because she’s Afro-Latina and not Viking? I thought you of all people would understand that our differences don’t matter to me. Hell, I’m different, and it didn’t stop her from wanting to be with me,” Ivar defends.

“Of course not, brother. I’m not a dick,” Ubbe places his hand on his brother’s arm to calm him, “I only meant that she’s your first girlfriend. I get that you’re excited, and everything is still pretty new with you two. But, you don’t have to run out and propose to the first girl that you -” he raises his brows and ducks his head to signal Ivar what he’s talking about. “You will have lots of relationships. You will meet a ton of beautiful women that will blow your mind in bed. Hell, you might even want to marry them all. We all know Bjorn tries to,” both brothers chuckle at that, “but it’s not necessary.”

“You don’t understand, Ubbe.” Ivar interrupts, “it’s not like that.”

“You don’t understand, kid. Bjorn will never release your shares from this place before you’re 30. Especially not if he knew you would be just turning it over to some girl and knowing you it would be without a prenup. Without the interest on that trust, what will you do for money, huh? Work for Hvitserk?” He raises his brow at Ivar while ignoring the flash of anger in the younger man’s eye. “Rollo and Father put every dime and ounce of sweat they had into this restaurant to give us a legacy. You are too young to remember, but there were nights when Father would not come home because he was here laying the foundation, brick by brick. There were also many times when Mother had nothing but soup to feed us all because there was no money to buy meat; father spent it all to see his dream come true. His dream was for us to have a better life and we did. When he died, we all got a piece of this place and the money from it is for our future.”

Ubbe blinks his blue eyes thoughtfully at the younger man beside him, “Besides, baby boy, you are so impulsive – as soon as you get an idea, you jump on it. You don’t always think things through. Have you really thought about this?”

“When Bjorn decided to join the Army and go to war, we didn’t tell him he couldn’t go. We let him go live out his dreams of being one of the Avengers. And was Hvitserk being impulsive when he decided that he wanted to take this place over after Helga died? He did not know the restaurant business. Liking to eat and running a restaurant are two different things, but none of us tried to talk him out of it?” Ivar rolled his eyes and slammed the game cards onto the board, “We all rallied around him and pooled our money together to help him remodel this place how he wanted. We promised that even if he fucked up we would pitch in and help keep this place afloat. My money is here, too. I should be able to have it if I want it.”

“But, Ivar…”

“I’m not finished, Ubbe,” Ivar runs his fingers through his long, loose hair and pulls it over to one shoulder, “When you decided to marry Torvi, a woman that had three children that weren’t yours, did any of us say anything? No. We could see that you loved her and that she made you happy and that was enough. And Sigurd? He was scared as hell to tell us about Kalf, but in the end, it was fine, because he’s our brother and we support each other. But why not me?”

Ubbe takes another drink and sets his cup down silently. He regards his little brother and smiles at him softly, “Because you, my little Ivar, are my baby brother and I don’t want you to get hurt.” He squeezes Ivar’s shoulder lovingly, “I have always looked out for you. I have been your legs since you were a child. You are a part of me, brother, and I must protect you.”

“You can’t protect me from love, Ubbe. She’s my big scary love,” Ivar’s eyes drop bashfully as the blush stains his cheeks.

 “Your what?”

“That’s what we call it – big scary love. You know that love you feel all the time, but sometimes you wake up in the morning and you just say to yourself, ‘I love the fuck out of this woman?’ It’s that love that after a year I still feel fluttering in my chest when I hear her ringtone and why my world spirals out of control when I see tears in her eyes. And she loves me that way, too, Ubbe. I mean, look at me,” he opens his hands in surrender, “In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you. Well, she does. She loves me like that and so much more. My legs, crawling around, breaking bones, the pain, my temper...hell, she loves me despite those things. To her, they are just additional sides of me to love.”

Ubbe listens to his brother, trying to keep the tears that threaten to spring to his eyes at bay. He can hear it in Ivar’s voice that he is truly happy. Now, he regrets not getting to know Cami better, but he admits to himself that he did not think that their relationship would last. “I am happy that you found love, Ivar.”

 “She’s pregnant.”

Ubbe unintentionally holds his breath as he tries to think of something else to say, but no words will come out. Why can’t Ivar see what he’s doing? This is all the more reason for him not to make this mistake.

“That’s not the reason why I want to marry her, though.” Ivar smile doubles in size as he thinks about the prospect of becoming a father, “I’ll admit the idea of having a baby is like…fuck! But, I want to marry her because I want to make her my family. I want it all, Ubbe; a family of my own, with her. She’s it for me.”

 “So, what do you want from me?”

With a shrug, Ivar relaxes, “Your permission? Your blessing? Congratulations? I don’t know. You’ve always been my favorite brother – I guess I just want to know that I’ll still have you in my corner. I don’t give a fuck about the money from the restaurant. If Bjorn wants to be an ass and tie it up for years, so be it. I’ll get a real job and stop living off of the family name. The only thing I want is Mother’s ring. I want to propose the right way…and maybe you in my corner.”

Ubbe cups one hand around Ivar’s cheek and gives him a few hits, “My baby brother has finally grown up!” Leaning in, he places his other hand on Ivar’s other cheek before pulling his face toward him to kiss him on both cheeks, “You’re going to be a father and husband! I’m so proud and happy for you! Of course, I will stand up for you, brother. All I have ever wanted was for you to find your own happiness.” Ubbe can’t stop the laughter coming from him as he notices Hvitserk coming over to the table. “And it would be my honor to give you Mother’s ring.”

“Sorry, it took so long. Porunn was late for her shift again. Know any good people needing a job? I could use some help around here.” Hvitserk says, sitting the bowl of soup on the table. He looks at his brothers and smiles at them laughing like loons, “What are you idiots up to?”

Ubbe gives Ivar a knowing smile as he hugs him around the shoulders. “Nothing. Just our brother here has some wonderful news to share tonight when the others arrive.”

Nodding, Hvitserk punches Ivar’s arm and picks up Ubbe’s glass to toast, “Well, to whatever your news is, Ivar,” he clicks glasses with his youngest brother and finishes off Ubbe’s drink. “I’ll get you another, Ubbe.” As he turns to walk toward the bar, he yells over his shoulder, “And you’re not banker during Monopoly tonight, Ivar. You always cheat!”

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#big scary love #ivar lothbrok #ubbe lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok fic #ubbe lothbrok fic #modern ivar #modern ubbe #vikings fanfic #vikings fandom #shannyland #kayla's 1k challenge

[cesgmorris]

Went with the “tanker” of @ivarsclam famous clam chowder! 🎣 🥣 😋 #ivars #ivarsfishbar #ivarsclamchowder (at Ivar's Fish Bar) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnLK0s-Ph4A/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#ivars #ivarsfishbar #ivarsclamchowder

[missing-old-seattle]

February 2020

Some restaurants have managed to make their place in this ever-changing city, finding a foothold in their neighborhood and building a community around them. Whether it's Seattle's oldest Chinese restaurant where Bruce Lee used to dine or the famed lunch counter at the Athenian Inn from "Sleepless in Seattle," these legendary spots define the city's food culture.

1. Lockspot Cafe: Lockspot Cafe has been open for over 90 years, staying true to its no-frills roots and representing the character of "old" Ballard in the rapidly growing neighborhood. It has doled out platters of crispy fish and chips through numerous world wars, market crashes, and natural disasters. "When you walk into the Lockspot Cafe, it's like coming home. This is a generational place," said owner Pam Hanson, who started working at the cafe as a bartender in 1996.

2. Mecca Cafe: This Lower Queen Anne institution opened in 1930 by C. Preston Smith and his wife Frances, who a year earlier opened 5 Point Cafe. When Prohibition ended in 1933, the two historic joints were the first legal bars in Seattle. The Mecca stayed in the Smith family until it was sold in 2001. The late-night establishment still stands today, serving up burgers, benedicts and sandwiches at reasonable prices.

3. Merchant's Cafe: Merchant's Cafe claims the title of "Seattle's Oldest Restaurant" and has stood on the corner of James and Yesler since 1890. The restaurant's long and sometimes spooky history makes it a popular destination for those interested in hauntings, ghosts and the paranormal.

4. Ray's Boathouse: In 1939, founder Ray Lichtenberger, moved his growing boat rental and bait house to the current location and opened a coffee house in 1945. Throughout the 60s, it operated as a fish and chips joint, known for it's iconic neon sign. Ray's Boathouse caught fire due to a wiring problem on May 26, 1987. Some of the boats kept at the pier were damaged, and when the fire was finally out, only Ray's sign remained standing. No one was injured and the restaurant reopened on April 9, 1988.

5. Ivar's: Beloved local showman Ivar Haglund (1905-1985) established Seattle's first aquarium at Pier 54 and started a fish-and-chips stand in 1938 that grew into a restaurant empire. In 1946 Mr. Haglund opened the renowned "Acres of Clams" restaurant, one of 25 fish bars still operating in the region.

6. Canlis Restaurant: Opened in 1950, Canlis is still relevant more than 70 years later. Located at the south end of the Aurora Bridge, the building was designed by Roland Terry and has a wonderful view to the north and east. It's still Seattle's traditional, luxury restaurant and has maintained a reputation as one of the city's finest dining establishments with a James Beard Award in 2019.

7. 5 Point Cafe: Opened in 1929 by C. Preston Smith and his wife Frances, who also opened Mecca Cafe. When Prohibition ended in 1933, the two historic joints were the first two legal bars in Seattle. When the restaurant opened, coffee, two eggs, a ham steak, hashbrowns, and four pieces of buttered toast with jelly only cost 40 cents. Prices are a lot more now, but the legendary dive bar still maintains its unpretentious attitude.

8. The Athenian: The Athenian has been serving seafood in Pike Place Market since 1909. In 1933, it was one of Seattle's first restaurants to receive a beer license. It became a tourist hotspot after it served as a colorful backdrop for Tom Hanks and Rob Reiner to talk about tiramisu and the anxieties of dating in 1993's "Sleepless in Seattle." Today, you can still grab burgers, salads and seafood from the bustling eatery and impress your parents who love the movie.

9. Emmett Watson's Oyster Bar: Watson was a longtime Seattle Post-Intelligencer columnist who opened the city's first oyster bar in Pike Place on Feb. 18, 1979 with his friend Sam Bryant. Watson's journalistic work reached the national radar in 1961, with the exclusive on Ernest Hemingway's real cause of death -- suicide. Watson passed away in 2001, but the oyster bar named in his memory still remains and is operated by Bryant's son, Thurman.

10. Tai Tung: This historic Chinatown International restaurant opened in 1935, making it the oldest remaining Chinese restaurant in the city. Bruce Lee used to frequent the restaurant, and would order their chow mein and fried rice. The third-generation owner, Henry Chan, has been working at Tai Tung since 1968, and can happily point out Lee's preferred table.

11. Ballard Smoke Shop: Once a fisherman's hangout, the Smoke Shop opened in 1971 and is now in a neighborhood of new condos. You can't smoke in there any more, but the drinks are still strong and the longtime servers will remember you. Rumor has it that you'll often find the cast of TV's "The Deadliest Catch" grabbing a pint here.

12. Maneki: The Maneki Japanese restaurant has been around the ID for over 100 years. They serve traditional delicious family-style dishes in a warm, quaint atmosphere. Initially built at 212 Sixth Ave South in 1904, Maneki had to be relocated after the restaurant was ransacked when Japanese citizens were sent to internment camps during WWII. Once it was rebuilt, this Japanese classic has been pleasing customers for over a century, and maybe for the next 100 years to come.

13. Central Saloon: Opened in 1892, this Pioneer Square bar is said to be (one of) Seattle's oldest. In the late 1980s, it hosted bands that went on to spawn the city's grunge scene, like Nirvana. There's hipper places to drink now, but this place - once a brothel and card room during the Gold Rush - is full of history.

14. Dick's Drive-In: The famed Dick's Drive-In opened its windows on Jan. 28, 1954, by Portland-born Dick Spady. The first location was located in Wallingford on 45th, which is still serving up their famed deluxe burger, fries and milkshakes with a friendly smile and quick service to this day. Members of the Spady family still operate the franchise as well. The beloved chain has opened a total of 8 locations across Puget Sound (Bellevue closed in 1974) and has become an iconic landmark in the city.

15. The Virginia Inn: This Belltown restaurant and bar has been around since 1903, and appeared in the movie "Sleepless in Seattle." Almost three decades after its Hollywood debut, the menu has become fancier and the crowd is more touristy, but the vibe is still laidback. The building itself is one of the oldest in the Pike Place Market area that is still standing.

16. Lowell's: Before it was serving up fish and chips and clam chowder, the space was a combination coffee roaster, peanut roaster and cafeteria in Pike Place Market called Manning's Cafeteria. In 1957, it officially became Lowell's. The three-storied restaurant with fantastic views of Puget Sound has become a tourist destination.

#Seattle #old seattle #restaurants #bars #Small business #Downtown #Pioneer Square #Belltown #Waterfront #Pike Place Market #international district #Chinatown #Ballard #Wallingford #Lockspot Cafe #Mecca Cafe #Lowell's #Ray's Boathouse #Virginia Inn #Merchant's Cafe #Central Saloon #Maneki #Dick's #Tai Tung #Ballard Smoke Shop #Emmett Watson's Oyster Bar #The Athenian #Ivar's #Canlis #5 Point Cafe

[christmaslightssalesman]

She saw me posting about my matches and now gave me this old Ivar's match book cover! I love it! I also love Ivar's far too much and still can't believe they put one up by Sammamish.

#ivars #ivars fish bar #pier 54 #seattle #vintage seattle #seattle vintage #seattle washington #washington state #washington #matchbook #matches #acres of clams #seafood #seattle history