#like nobody was even doing anything and it had no point!!! i'm gonna go ballistic lmfao what does he have to do. aughh like we GET IT.......

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Drabble request (feel free to say no :) )

(Comic) due to the after events of the book, Ambrosius is in the hospital and feels horrible, physically and mentally, and the treatments they are giving him are making him sick and very anxious, so he asks ballister to visit him in hospital, and plays the whole “hopeless romantic” so that he stays and Ambrosius feels better, but ballister can see right through it, and doesn’t want to admit it, but he visits him anyways.

Yippieee!!! Loved this request as I'm working on a longer Ambrosius Hospital Fic rn \(^^)/

I currently still have one req still in the works because I'm struggling to get it started, but it is on it's way! Anyway I hope you enjoy this drabble :,)

-

Ambrosius groaned softly. He had no idea how long he'd been here. The doctors said it had been four days, but he didn't really believe that. The painkillers and heavy antibiotics– and maybe also the brain injury– made time melt together. All he ever really looked forward to were visits from Ballister. Ballister had visited him often when he was still hospitalized, but he was discharged at some point. 

Not like he had any reason to visit Ambrosius. Fuck. Everything was such dogshit. The Institution, the thing he dedicated his whole life to, was gone. The King to whom he swore allegiance was dead. Not that any of that mattered, he'd already been demoted to a grunt rank in the Institution because he fucked up at doing the only thing he was supposed to be good at. 

Nobody respected him. Nobody liked him. Certainly nobody loved him. And on top of that, he felt nothing but pain and nausea and confusion all the time. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to vomit, but he did it often. The antibiotics were tearing his guts apart. The beta blockers made him even more weak and exhausted than he was already. The painkillers disoriented him and didn't even seem to do much, and also worked together with the anticonvulsants to make him sick as a dog. He couldn't help but wish that Ballister had just left him in that facility to be disintegrated instantly.

Why did Ballister save him if he wasn't even gonna be here? Was it just to punish him? What was going to happen to him after all this? With no job, unable to walk, unable to see out of one eye, no home, he'd end up back on the streets. He was terrified and woke up crying constantly. He wanted his Ballister here. He wanted Ballister to hold his hand and kiss his forehead and tell him everything would be okay. As if he had any claim to Ballister at all. 

Eventually he couldn't take it anymore, and he weakly dialed the number in his phone.

–

Ballister had been a wreck ever since he was discharged. He felt guilty about Nimona and Ambrosius and the town and everything. He wanted to be there for Ambrosius, who at this point was all he had left, but in addition to the pain and mixed feelings he suffered whenever he was around, he feared his presence didn't even help. Whenever he sat with Ambrosius, the man looked so guilty and miserable he couldn't meet his eyes. Making Ambrosius feel like shit about himself certainly wouldn't aid in his recovery. Plus, being in hospitals was more than a little triggering for him. He didn't like to see the pain from the worst day of his life reflecting off Ambrosius's face.

But standing around this empty warehouse, without Nimona's snark or laughter, barely felt like anything either.

He jumped when his phone rang with Ambrosius's number. “Hello?” 

“Hiii…” the voice on the other end was weak. “I've missed you, darling.” 

Ballister cleared his throat. “Ambrosius, you should be resting.” 

“How can I possibly rest without you here? I'm sick and in dreadful shape, and the object of my affection isn't even here to distract me with his handsome face.” 

Blushing, Ballister looked down. More guilt, fun. Obviously he was high as a kite while also being at rock bottom. It was obvious what he was doing. He was playing it like he was being cute and flirty, but he was groveling. He was prone on the floor groveling for Ballister’s attention. For him to be there, to hold his hand.

“My darling, if only I could hear your voice and see your face, I certainly would feel better. If you're not busy, that is.” 

Ballister snorted. He never could resist Ambrosius's begging. 

He arrived at the hospital an hour later, and he swore a blue light flickered behind Ambrosius's eye when he saw him. “You came!” He smiled as broadly as he could without ripping the stitches in his cheek. 

“Of course, I couldn't leave my… my beloved gentleman caller all by himself, could I?” He smiled and took his hand. Ambrosius squeezed it.

“I'm happy you're here.” His voice was exhausted. His face said so many things his mouth couldn't.

Ballister stroked his hair. “I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to be afraid.”

“If I go to sleep, will you stay? Will you hold my hand until I wake up?” 

A lump caught in Ballister's throat. “Of course I will.”

#nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #nimona graphic novel #ballister blackheart #ballister x ambrosius #nimona fanfic #blackloin #fic request

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 09 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 2.6 K

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

<- Previous part (08)

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{Vikings Masterlist}

×

Make Me Fly

It has been an interesting week. Bjorn hasn't been around lately, since he and Ragnar are starting to gather people for the next raid. Winter will be over soon enough, and apparently, they start getting ready a long time before sailing. You're trying not to think too much about it, since you know Ivar is going.

But that's an issue for when the winter is over, and it isn't yet, and won't be for quite a while. On Ivar's bed, already dressed for the day, you're kneeled behind him, braiding his hair. You've been sleeping here now, and of course, the news got out, even though you don't really know how. Hvitserk was the first to know, so he told Aslaug and Ubbe. Ragnar found out quickly after, meaning it got to Bjorn's ears as well. Then, you started noticing people staring, and some rumors, according to Helga. You were under Aslaug's protection, but the rumor that you're with Ivar makes people scared of you. You don't mind though, but you still haven't spoken with Ivar about it. You want things to just happen instead of pushing it because of what people are saying.

“There you go.” You say when the braids are done. “I'm getting really good at this.”

Ivar runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the braids softly. His hair is long now, and he agreed on not cutting it short again. “You're getting great at this.” He says, grabbing your hand and pulling you down again, so you have both your arms around his neck. “I want to show you something today.”

“What?” You ask hands on his chest.

“I'm gonna show you how I ride on the battlefield.” His voice gets a little darker, and you know he's not joking. “I know you've been asking yourself that.”

“I know you can fight.” Getting up from the bed, you move to stand before him. “I just don't know how, but I don't doubt it.”

“We still have some weeks, but I'll be sailing to England again.” Ivar takes his clutch and gets up to his feet. “No need to hide it, I know you're worried.”

“Worried isn't the right word... Maybe anxious.” You start making your way to the door, and Ivar unlocks and pulls it open for you. “I know some people don't come back and I've never been through anything like that. I don't how those who stay deal with the waiting.” You set a comfortable pace, walking side by side with him.

“You'll get used to it. That's the way things have always been here.”

“I know.” When you cross the main hall, you wave at Hvitserk and Ubbe, muttering a ‘hello’ to Bjorn, since you've been trying to ease the ever-growing tension between the two brothers.

Ivar guides you through the city and then through the forest to a wooden structure built among the trees. There are some men around, and the doors are open. You're way too curious about it, but you manage to wait until you reach the building. There are several horses inside, some war equipment and ballistic devices you don't recognize, many shields and swords.

“Storage?” You ask.

“Yes. But that's the only thing that really matters.” He gestures at the very end of the barn, and that's when you see it.

“What's that?” Walking faster, you make your way towards it, ignoring everyone around. You've never seen anything like it. They keep a certain distance from it, you noticed. You wonder how many times they had Ivar yelling at them to stay away from his things.

“It's a war chariot.” He answers as you walk around it, stepping up and inside. “With it, I can march into battle. Lead troops in combat.”

In the center, there's a structure for Ivar to sit, so you walk around it, standing on the edge. You can't help but imagine how it must feel to be in such a position, in the middle of war. “I wish I could see you in action. It must feel like flying.” You expected him to say something, but several seconds go by and you're still in silence, broken only by the low chattering of the men working here. Looking over your shoulder, you spot Ivar still on the ground, looking up at you. “What?” You giggle, turning around.

“Get my chariot ready.” He commands, raising his voice. “Now.”

“You're kidding, right?” You ask, unable to hold back the smile.

Ivar doesn't answer, he just pulls himself to the chariot, taking his place. Everything is done quickly, and once the horse is attached to the chariot, the doors on the back of the barn are pushed open. Ivar is seated on the bench made for him, and you stand on the front, hands tightly holding on the edge.

“Are you ready?” Ivar inquires, and you give him a look over your shoulder, biting your lip.

You've never seen this look on his face. You have seen him smiling many times, but this is different. Ivar looks truly happy, comfortable, secure. Wild, even. And you absolutely love this look on him. “Make me fly.” You mutter, and the moment he moves his arms to whip the horse, you turn around.

Soon enough you find you picked the right word to describe it. Flying. Ivar keeps the horse's pace so fast that it takes your breath away. It's nothing like riding. It's something entirely new. The chariot rocks a little through the woods, but when it reaches a road, the speed only increases, and you're laughing like a little kid. It's just amazing to ride this into battle, and you can only imagine what his enemies feel when they see Ivar on this thing, flying to meet them. They must be terrified. Ivar's reputation is the worst, or the best, depending on the point of view, and men must tremble like leaves at the sight of him.

“You alright there?” He yells above the wind, and you glance at him.

“Never been better!” Assuring him, you focus on the road again, seeing how close you are to Kattegat. “Turn around! Or else we'll enter the town.”

“And what's the problem with that?”

Laughing again, you decide you don't care if he doesn't care. And into the town you go, making people jump out of the way. Nobody dares to say anything though, just making sure to warn those ahead to watch out. The space gets a little narrow, and Ivar starts to struggle a little until he gives up, knocking some stores down and getting some angry yells. You're not really thinking right now, looking down at the people as you pass by, too fast. You can hear his laughter too, filling your ears.

“Ivar!” A different voice reaches you, and as soon as you spot Ragnar riding on your left, Ivar pulls the horse, making it reduce its pace until you stop completely.

“Father. Hi.” He mutters, in that tone that means he did something bad but doesn't care one bit.

“Will you take this thing back? Look at all the mess you two made.” He complains, gesturing at the market place. You give it a quick look, noticing way too many broken things. “Move it around and take the chariot back,” Ragnar says before riding away.

With a dramatic eye roll, Ivar does what he's told, and this time, since he's riding slower, you have your back at the landscape, staring at him instead. “Weren't you seeing where you were going?”

“Of course not.” He snaps back, shrugging his shoulders. “I was too busy looking at you.”

Blushing, you look down, and a rock on the road makes the chariot shake, making you jerk forward, bumping on the support on which Ivar can rest his chest. “Ouch.”

“Come here.” He says, moving back a little. “Good thing you're wearing pants. Sit here.” Raising an eyebrow, you do as he says, bringing one leg over the structure and straddling it. The moment you sit down on it, you feel Ivar's chest pressing against your back. “Better?”

“A little.” You mumble, feeling as his arms surround you, so you place your hands on top of his, holding the halters. “That's nice.” You whisper, the cold air suddenly not bothering you anymore.

“It is.” Ivar let go of the halters, letting it to your control. “I never allowed anyone to do that. And I don't think I ever will.” He whispers in your ear, and you feel a shiver rolling down your spine.

“Really?”

“Really.” He repeats, hands on your hips. “Ever since I started raiding with my father and brothers, I never truly had anyone to come back to.” You feel yourself relax onto him, for a brief moment forgetting you're the one controlling the chariot. “So I need to know if that changed.”

This is important, so you pull the halters, making the horse stop. Once you're motionless, you move to the side and turn your head a little, just enough to look into his eyes. “What exactly are you asking, Ivar?”

He brings a hand to caress your cheek, cold fingertips running through your skin, painfully slow, leaving a trail of fire. “I'm asking if you will be waiting for my return.”

“I–”

“Prince Ivar.” Someone calls, and you're cut short.

“What?” He hisses, as you stand up and move out of the made chair.

“Your father asked us to take your chariot back. He needs to speak with you.”

“Why didn't he said it himself?” Despite being annoyed, Ivar steps out of the chariot, and you do the same. It doesn't go unnoticed that the men don't ride it. They simply pull the horse. It's like an unspoken rule, that doesn't need to be reassured. People just know.

Then, you're left alone in the woods, the sound of the chariot being taken away slowly fading. “Guess we should go now.” You say, but before you give the first step back to Kattegat, Ivar grabs your arm, forcing you to stop and turn to look at him.

“First answer me.” There's insecurity in his voice, fear even. You wonder if this side of Ivar will ever heal. Maybe it won't, but, as long as you're around, you'll do everything you can to make him see that he's not less of a man because of his disability. You know he's still scared that you'll pick Bjorn over him, the reason for the insane jealously going on between the two brothers, but the truth is you already made your choice. And you're not changing your mind.

“Of course I'll wait for you.” You say, not a hint of doubt on your voice. “I'll be on the decks, watching the boats arriving, searching for you among the people.” When Ivar smiles, you do the same, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheek. But when you feel his flesh, you're quick to notice you met his lips instead.

At the same time you freeze, you feel your entire body heating up. But then, you're fast to move, a hand coming to cup cheek as the other grabs the hard material of his vest, holding him close. You don't pull away, how could you? Not when you just realized you've been wanting to do this for so long. Smiling a little, you let him deepen the kiss, his free hand on your waist, pressing your body against his even more. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you feel completely inebriated by the warmth of his lips, his taste, everything.

But you still need to breathe, so you're forced to pull away, still standing close to him. You feel your cheeks burning, a smile on your lips that you just can't hold back. “That was something.” You mutter, clearing your throat.

“If I come back from this raid, tell me you'll be mine,” Ivar whispers, and you look up to meet those bright blue eyes once again. “I promise I won't ever take or love another woman.”

There's only one possible answer for this, but the truth is that somehow, you have been his since the beginning, you just didn't know. “You'll be mine, and I'll be yours.” Tiptoeing again, you place a quick kiss on his lips.

“And so it'll be.”

• • •

You both agreed on not letting the word out until after the raids. So, as the days and weeks pass by, you watch as people get ready, and you enjoy the many feasts Ragnar throws, but also the meals you share with the family alone. Hvitserk is the only one who knows about you and Ivar since he got you kissing by Ivar's bedroom door. But he won't tell anyone, or else, you swore to use him as a target to practice with the ax. But you trust him, you know he'll keep the secret as long as you want him to.

Bjorn is struggling. In the beginning, when he found out you were sleeping in Ivar's bedroom, he had this constant angry stare. Now, you're not sure what his plans are, but you know he hasn't given up yet. Ubbe told you that Bjorn still doesn't believe you made up your mind, because to him, it's insane that any woman would prefer Ivar over him. You don't care though. What he thinks doesn't matter. But you do catch him staring, and you're tired of trying not to let Ivar notice. It's almost always useless.

Tonight, it's a goodbye feast. They're sailing first thing tomorrow, many to their deaths, so today, everyone celebrates. You're dressed in a brand new dress, with the necklace Ivar gave you, as well as rings and earrings that we're also gifts from him. You're happy tonight, despite the anxiety building up in your chest.

“So. Do you want anything from your homeland?” Ivar asks, his mouth close to your ear to make himself heard above all the noise.

“I want you.” You answer, stealing a chicken wing from his plate and taking a bite. Ivar looks at you with an annoyed stare, eyes rolling at your audacity.

“You already have me.” He simply answers.

“Are you guys serious?” Hvitserk complains, dropping to the bench beside you. “If I ever fall in love and start acting like this, I give you both permission to punch me in the face.”

“You know I'll never forget this, right?.” You tell him, an arm around his shoulders. “I have a good memory, my friend.”

“You'll regret saying that,” Ivar warns him, and you giggle.

The night was long, but it ended too soon. You were awakened before the sun, so you could help Ivar with the last preparations. You did you're best not to look worried, but right now, walking next to him to the boat, you have to clench your hands into fists so nobody will see them shaking.

“That's it.” He says, turning to look at you. “Don't worry too much. I'll come back.”

“I know, Ivar the Boneless.” Some people pass by, so you look down at your feet. “Just be careful, alright?”

“I will.”

“Alright.” You know you've been keeping this a secret until he's back, but right now, it doesn't matter. Standing on your toes, you kiss him, slow and passionately, not minding the many eyes on both of you. It just doesn't matter. Pulling away, you smile, hoping this won't be the last kiss.

“So much for keeping a secret.” He says, smirking.

“Shut up.” You mutter, resting your head on his chest. “Just remember I'll be waiting.”

“I will,” Ivar says in a low voice, and with one more kiss, you let him get in the boat, making your way back to the decks, standing next to Aslaug.

The Queen has a look on her face, and you know she saw the kiss.

“Won't you say anything?” You mutter, feeling your cheeks burning.

“No.” She smiles, glancing at you. “I just think it'll be a long summer. For both of you.”

And, of course, Queen Aslaug was right.

×

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