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bumblesimagines · 1 year

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Under The Moonlight

Part 7

Request: Yes or No

~~~

Many days had passed since they had returned to Kattegat from London. Freydis settled into her new position, Leif and Liv into their blossoming relationship, and (Y/N)... Well, he settled into Harald's bed on most nights.

He hadn't intended to, truly. The third time they had found themselves giving in to their desires, (Y/N) had slipped away from Harald's slumbering body and left his lodgings, going back to the room he'd been freely given by Jarl Haakon for his part in the war efforts. The following morning, Harald had easily found him during breakfast. But he simply sat down beside him as if all was well and picked up conversation with Leif. (Y/N) had told himself he'd make a point to Harald: that they were far better off as friends. But Harald was good with words, and even better with his hands.

So when he found himself waking up in an all-too-familiar bed, he merely buried his face in the feather-stuffed pillow and wished the day away. His movements, however, caught the eye of the waking Viking beside him. Fingers danced up his spine and soft lips kissed the back of his shoulder. When (Y/N) didn't stir, Harald pressed his palm against his back and slipped his hand underneath his body, scooping the Greenlander into his arms and pulling him against his chest. His response came in the form of a disapproving groan. Harald chuckled softly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of (Y/N)'s neck. (Y/N) couldn't understand why Harald insisted on being so affectionate. How the man remained unwed was still a mystery to him.

"You must want to meet God, Harald." (Y/N) grumbled. Harald laughed against his skin.

"Did I wake you, love?" He asked and (Y/N) grew still. Harald continued to nuzzle into his neck, burying his face into his skin and tickling him with his beard. He was testing him. (Y/N) could tell. Harald would've lifted his head to look at him properly otherwise. (Y/N) shut his eyes and sighed deeply. He could tell. Gods, he'd been spending so much time around Harald that he had picked up on his habits. His face warmed considerably and he wanted to desperately bury his face in the pillow until slumber took him away.

"No," (Y/N) answered, shoving down the eruption of butterflies in his stomach.

"Good." Harald rested his chin on his shoulder and ran his hand down (Y/N)'s arm. Slipping his fingers between (Y/N)'s, he pulled their hands to his face and kissed the back of (Y/N)'s. "I wanted to speak with you."

"What about?" (Y/N) shifted, laying on his back and gazing up at Harald curiously. Harald ran his lips over (Y/N)'s hand in concentration- or perhaps deliberation- before sighing softly. (Y/N) pressed his lips into a line, eyes flickering all over Harald's face.

"Us," Harald whispered.

"Us?" (Y/N) repeated breathlessly, brows furrowing. Harald nodded and pushed himself up with his arm, his other hand slipping under the covers to nudge (Y/N)'s legs apart. Heat bubbled in (Y/N)'s stomach but it soon faded once Harald lied down on top of him, his weight pressing him into the bed in an oddly comforting way. Resting his head down on (Y/N)'s chest, Harald allowed his eyes to flutter shut, one finger softly stroking the beginning of his scar while (Y/N)'s fingers slipped into the wavy brown locks brushing against his chin, gently scraping Harald's scalp and eliciting a soft rumble of contentment from the prince.

"I feel strongly for you, (Y/N). More strongly than I've ever felt for anyone else." Harald revealed quietly, listening to the sound of horns blowing in the distance. (Y/N)'s gaze rose up onto the ceiling, running over the woodwork and beams keeping the structure up. He wondered if Harald could hear his heartbeat quicken. "I know our people would judge us and you deserve more than to be hidden away. But, I cannot help how I feel and... I needed to know if you felt the same."

Feelings... such bothersome things. They made his skin burn hotter than the sun and nauseated him until he could no longer think straight. His heart would threaten to burst out of his chest and his lips would pull into a smile, no matter how sour of a day he had. He hated it. He hated not having control over his own body. It reacted so wildly to a man, a Christian prince, who had a cheeky smile and kind eyes. (Y/N) hated the invisible rope that drew Harald to him over and over, hated how easily his eyes found Harald in a room, and he loathed the fluttery feeling that sunk its teeth into his stomach. Loki must've been having a field day with him, that mischievous little God. Or perhaps... Freya had bestowed him with a gift.

"I don't know how I feel." He answered honestly after a beat of silence. "I... I've never felt anything for anyone before." Greenland had a habit of isolating her islanders, keeping them contained to their lands in a constant state of survival, even more so when one lived far from the villages. (Y/N) had been raised in the wilderness, only seeing others when they traveled into the village or were visited by their neighbors. Romance in Greenland was rare, especially if one wasn't actively seeking it, and it certainly never crossed (Y/N)'s mind before.

Harald propped himself up onto his elbows, tenderly gazing down at him. He ran his thumb over (Y/N)'s jawline and then his lips, his eyes sweeping over every detail on his face. "I want you to know I would give anything for my love. I would do anything for them. I'd even toss aside my quest for the throne. But only if my love feels the way I do."

"All you've wanted since we met is to be King of Norway, Harald. I don't believe you'd give it up so easily."

"It won't be easy, you're right. But if it's what my love wants..." Harald trailed off and then inhaled deeply, nodding to himself and smiling down at him. "I will gladly do it. I can prove it to you."

"Why?" (Y/N)'s hand slipped down from Harald's hair, traversing over back muscles that flexed slightly at his touch. "I'm just a Greenlander. I am not someone you toss away the crown for."

"But you are." Harald objected, lips ghosting over (Y/N)'s chin. "And if you do not wish for me to leave my destiny, then I beg of you to be with me in court. When I am King, I will follow in Jarl Haakon's footsteps. Norway will turn into an open country where any and all faiths can be worshipped. No more hatred, no more violence."

"That's an honorable plan, Harald." (Y/N) mumbled, brushing back one of Harald's curls.

"What do you say?" Harald asked, tilting his head to gently kiss (Y/N)'s hand. "Will you be mine?"

"Yes." Laughter soon followed as Harald leaned back onto his knees, pulling (Y/N) along with him and peppering kisses all over his neck and shoulders. And then, the kisses turned needier and hungry, and (Y/N) knew he'd be stuck in bed a little while longer.

Later, when the day began to slip into the afternoon, Freydis informed them of a disturbance at the harbor that had unsettled the townsfolk and those visiting Kattegat. (Y/N) and Harald followed Freydis and Leif through town as the morning fog began to lift, allowing them to see much clearer. But when they stepped on the beach, (Y/N) wished it hadn't left.

A boat had neared the shore. Empty. Unless you counted the multiple spiked heads littered around the boat or the body of a woman tied to the mast, her arms outstretched to either side in the form of a cross. White and red traditional paint covered the faces of a few of the deceased, telling those on shore that they were priests and priestesses, or more specifically, worshippers of the Old Gods. But it hadn't been the heads or the body that truly made bile rise in the back of his throat. It'd been the piercing wails of a baby.

Trudging into the cold water with his brother, he stood by the boat and inhaled the smell of dried blood. He avoided looking at the faces of the deceased and instead whispered a prayer for them. Leif carefully boarded the boat and stepped toward the mast where a basket sat, gingerly picking up the swaddled baby and handing them off to his brother. (Y/N) mimicked the way he'd seen his mother hold a child once and held the baby close to his chest, lightly bouncing the baby to keep them from fussing. The cold had turned their cheeks and nose rosy pink, a startling contrast to their pale skin and the red cross painted on their forehead with blood. If starvation didn't take them first, the chill certainly would. With that in mind, (Y/N) turned and walked back onto the beach, allowing Freydis to take them into her arms and gaze upon them.

"I know this child." She grimaced and looked up at Jarl Haakon. "Kåre did this."

At her words, Jarl Haakon's breath seemed to hitch. "Uppsala..." She whispered in cold realization, her eyes moving away from the baby and onto Freydis.

"Go. Now."

➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸

Riding over the hill, (Y/N) tugged on the reins of his horse and saw it in the distance; gray smoke rising through the trees. Jarl Haakon's suspicions had been right. Freydis didn't think twice in clicking her tongue and applying pressure to the sides of her horse with her calves, making it run forward toward the treeline. The others followed, the smell of burnt wood filling their senses within minutes as they arrived at the remains of the temple. Scattered around the ground were debris and bodies. Some appeared to have been cut down while fleeing, others had been tied up to posts and trees, their clothes soaked in blood and their heads limp. Nobody had been spared. Not even the children, women, or elderly. But the sight that made Freydis stop was the sight of the temple itself, nearly burned to ashes but parts of it still stood, unbroken by the rage of Christians.

"Spread out," Leif instructed, watching his sister solemnly. "Look for survivors."

Tossing one leg over the horse, (Y/N) landed firmly on the ground and walked forward, placing his hand on Freydis's thigh to break her out of her thoughts. She glanced down at him, eyes glossed over with tears, and slipped off the saddle. (Y/N) sighed heavily and followed her up the trail leading to the temple. His gaze roamed over the carnage. The bodies seemed endless. Whenever he looked away from one, he spotted another, and then another. So many lives. So many innocents who had visited the temple seeking the wisdom and love of the Gods, only to be slaughtered. Breaking away from Freydis and Liv, he caught up with Harald and Leif, grimacing at the sight of more bodies. Crows and bugs had already begun to scavenge the remains, taking their fill.

"Have you been here before?" Leif asked Harald, gazing at one of the bodies. It appeared smaller than the others around it. A child. They continued on, searching- hoping- for survivors.

"No." Harald shook his head, voice soft. "I'd only heard stories."

"All of these lives lost... and all they'll be to their killers are distant memories." (Y/N) whispered and looked at the temple as they neared it. The pillars that remained had turned black from the fire, smoke still rising from the structure. He could see what remained of the inside. Just more broken and burnt debris. No longer a place of prayer and worship.

Crouching down by the corpses of a couple and their child, Leif swallowed thickly and shook his head. "Who could hate something so much?"

"They're not killing people," Harald spoke, fingers curling into fists. "They're cleansing the land. Rubbing away all signs of our pagan past, like a stain."

(Y/N)'s jaw clenched, unable to tear his eyes away from the fallen boy. His mother's arm had been draped over him, almost as if she had attempted to shield him from the incoming attack. Beside them, the father's hand lay stretched out toward them, perhaps reaching for them in his last moments. The sound of a twig snapping turned their attention away from the gruesome sight and Harald stood in front of (Y/N), sliding his sword out of his sheath. The three cautiously approached the large tree where the sound had come from, eyeing the disturbed branches laying on the ground. Leif reached out toward it, grasping it and quickly moving it, only to hear soft gasps from the people hiding. Three young girls. Suvuiors covered in dirt and ash. They trembled and flinched, avoiding the eyes of the men in fear.

"It's alright. We won't hurt you." Leif assured softly and offered his hand, helping the girls out of the hole one by one.

"Come, you're safe now." Harald sheathed his swords, hands hovering over their backs to avoid further discomfort for them. They took the girls back toward the temples, stepping into the rubble of the building and toward Freydis and Liv. The two women sat on a fallen beam and stared forward at the single totem pole still standing. The Allfather.

Jumping to her feet at the sight of the girls, Freydis breathed a sigh of relief and offered them comforting smiles. "Do not be afraid." She cooed at the youngest girl, reaching a hand out to gently touch her arm. "We are friends here."

"You are Freydis?" The little girl asked timidly.

Freydis blinked, brows furrowing. "How do you know my name?"

"Their leader told us you would come. He only spared us so we could give you his message." She explained softly and the other girls nodded to confirm her words.

"What message?"

"He said that God has ordered him to destroy Kattegat," She paused briefly and looked up at Freydis. "And to kill you."

Freydis leaned back and stared down at the girl, inhaling sharply. Her gaze fell onto the burnt wooden boards beneath them, a million thoughts racing through her mind no doubt. (Y/N) lifted a hand to his necklace and ran his fingers over the bones, unable to stop himself from fidgeting with them. They'd just returned from one war only to be forced directly into another. Would the violence ever end? The question repeated itself in his head when Altora, the leader of the shieldmaidens of Kattegat, approached them and shook her head. The three girls were the only survivors.

"What are we waiting for? I say we ride after Kåre and make him pay!"

"From his tracks, he has at least a hundred horsemen. We must be smart." Harald objected, glancing between the siblings. Taking his words into consideration, Freydis nodded and turned back toward Altora and the others.

"Go back to Kattegat and tell Haakon what we've found. We'll take care of the dead and follow up with the survivors." Freydis told them and Altora nodded, clicking her tongue and riding away with the rest of the shieldmaidens.

"We need to know where Kåre is. I'll track him and meet you in Kattegat." Leif piped up, meeting his brother's eyes and giving him a reassuring smile. (Y/N) couldn't find it in himself to return it when Leif was going off on a risky mission. Kåre and his people had slaughtered a whole temple and its worshippers. Only the Gods knew what would happen to Leif if he were caught.

Noticing the look on (Y/N)'s face, Liv placed a hand on his arm. "I'll go with him. We'll watch each other's backs." She said, giving his arm a squeeze before turning toward Leif and taking in a small breath. Together, the two headed off toward the last spot they'd seen tracks. (Y/N) and Freydis watched them go before turning toward each other.

"We camp here tonight," Freydis said, reaching out to gently cup her brother's cheek. Her eyes shifted onto Harald and they turned cold. "Build fires for the dead." Dropping her hand, she moved to walk past them.

"Freydis." Harald frowned, catching Freydis's arm and gently pulling her back. "Kåre will pay for this. I promise you justice."

"I don't need your promises. I can deliver justice myself." She muttered bitterly, ripping her arm from his hold and walking towards the girls to take them elsewhere. (Y/N) sighed and stepped toward him, resting his hand over Harald's chest and gazing into his eyes. Despite playing no hand in the slaughter, he still appeared guilty.

"She doesn't hate you, Harald. She's hurting and taking it out on you because-"

"I'm a Christian. In her eyes, we are all the same." Harald muttered, eyes closing when (Y/N) pressed his hand against his cheek. He leaned into (Y/N)'s touch, nuzzling his cheek against his palm.

"Well, I believe you're different, Harald." (Y/N) smiled softly and Harald's eyes opened, a small smile spreading across his face. Glancing over his shoulder, Harald surveyed the area for any eyes before looking back at (Y/N) and leaning in, giving him a kiss. When he pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together and looked deep into his lover's eyes.

"It pleases me to hear you say that." He whispered.

"Good. Come now. These people deserve a proper funeral."

It took hours to gather the bodies as only a couple were light enough for one person to carry. The rest either had to be dragged or heaved onto the wood by two people. Slowly, fires were lit and prayers for the deceased were said. The smell of burnt meat began filling the air, drawing ravens and other scavengers that began picking at the bodies that hadn't been moved yet. It'd been a tiresome yet necessary feat. Even if the people were with their Gods, their bodies on Earth still deserved to be treated with respect. Harald kept his distance from Freydis during the funeral rituals, fearing her patience with him would snap and she'd bury her sword in him for the acts of Kåre. (Y/N) didn't blame him. He knew his sister well enough to know the thought probably crossed her mind every time she looked at him. But she refrained from hurting Harald because when she looked at her brother, she saw happiness. And that was enough for her.

➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸

Standing amongst the others in the Great Hall, (Y/N)'s head turned toward the doors as Leif and Liv entered, the people parting to let them pass forward. Jarl Haakon turned to look at them expectantly, but from the look on her face, she hadn't been expecting good news.

"Olaf joined forces with Kåre," Leif revealed as he stopped before them, chest heaving. Harald's head snapped in his direction at the mention of his half-brother, brows furrowing in disbelief. (Y/N) couldn't say he was surprised when Jarl Olaf had made his distaste for them clear in the very hall they were standing in.

"Olaf?" Harald repeated and Leif nodded.

"We recognize his banners, but there are many other clans I do not know. It's a large force and growing."

"What about appealing to friendly cities for help?" Freydis proposed, frown growing when Jarl Haakon answered her with silence.

"We have." Altora glanced at Jarl Haakon. "But many have already been crushed by Kåre."

"Then we should prepare immediately, and learn what we can about their numbers and strength."

Turning to Altora and the other shieldmaidens, Jarl Haakon ordered, "Send spies and see what they can find." But her gaze didn't remain on the women for long. Instead, it drifted onto Harald and she arched a brow. "Prince Harald. I am glad you have chosen to stay and fight with us, but it has placed you against your brother."

At her words, (Y/N) turned his head to look at Harald. Harald's features hardened and his back straightened, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "My brother has made his choice. And I have made mine." His eyes briefly flickered to (Y/N). "I am not fighting for the throne of Norway. I am fighting for Kattegat." Harald assured her. Jarl Haakon stared at him for a moment longer, eyes squinting slightly as she searched his face for any hint of deception. When she found none, she gave a satisfied nod and turned away from him, heading deeper into the hall to speak with some of her people.

Turning to look at them, Freydis pressed her lips together and sighed heavily. "There's much to be done."

Preparations for the incoming invasion included many things; setting up a line of spikes in front of the tall wooden gate leading into town, arrows and bows being prepared on the wall along the gate, and food and supplies being stocked. With mountains looming on either side of Kattegat, it only left the harbor and gate as points of entry. Many of Kattegat's protectors were primarily experienced in two weapons: bows and swords. As a result, there was confidence the archers would hold back the first wave of attackers, and hopefully the second and third. (Y/N) worked alongside the others on setting up the spikes, ensuring the ropes would hold no matter how many bodies pushed and crawled over them.

"You should take a break, (Y/N). There are many available hands to help with defenses."

"You didn't come here to tell me that, Harald." (Y/N) murmured and rose up, giving the wooden spike a shake and humming when it proved sturdy enough. Tilting his head up to look at Harald, he spoke, "What did you wish to speak about?"

"If my brother sets eyes on you, he'll go after you. I don't want you getting hurt because of him." Harald stepped closer, glancing at the others working around them. "Olaf will surely try to kill you or your brother and sister. He's a vain, self-centered, power-seeking man. He'll do anything to get the upper hand, even if it means hurting me."

"Vain, self-centered, and power-seeking... I can see why you're brothers. You've got a lot in common." Patting Harald's chest, (Y/N) headed back into town, approaching the large logs set up to be shaped into spikes. Harald followed after him, picking up one of the axes laying beside the logs.

"You're not taking this seriously." Harald hissed softly.

"I am, Harald. Kattegat is in danger and your brother has joined forces with the enemy, and they just so happen to share the same hatred toward my family. But I am not going to worry about what could happen." Placing the log to lean against the table, (Y/N) took the axe from Harald's hands. "If you're so worried about me, just stay by my side."

Gaze softening, Harald brushed his hand against (Y/N)'s. "I always do."

A horn sounded off and their attention turned upward to one of the men stationed on top of the gate. "Riders approach! Our scouts are returning!" He bellowed. (Y/N) stepped forward with Harald, his grip on the axe tightening as the horses passed through the gates. Their riders were limp against them, arrows sticking out of their backs. Harald stepped in front of the horses, calling out softly to the frightened animals. They came to a slow stop in front of him, huffing and whining. (Y/N) looked over each rider, checking for signs of life but finding none in all of them.

"We must find out their strength. If they are weak, we should not be waiting in here, but attacking before their forces grow stronger." Harald voiced, staring after the horses as they were led to the stables and their riders were dragged off them.

Freydis nodded. "I'll go with you."

"We can spare neither of you." Leif gave them both hard looks and the two frowned but remained silent. "Let's get back to work."

Despite his disappointment and irritation in being denied, Harald resumed work with (Y/N), silently cutting the logs until they sharpened enough to cause damage. While his unusual silence worried (Y/N), he didn't wish to press on the issue and irritate Harald further. Their relationship was still fresh and while (Y/N) lacked experience in romance, he knew Harald would need some space and a distraction. They worked until the sun began to lower down and Jarl Haakon called a gathering for everyone to meet her in the center of town, asking someone to serve as a messenger to Odin and when someone offered, Harald's nerves only increased. So, after some convincing, (Y/N) and Harald returned to the inn and settled in for the night.

Harald, however, waited for (Y/N) to fall asleep before getting dressed again and sitting down beside the bed. He watched him peacefully sleep, occasionally sighing into his pillow and shifting around. The sight made a smile tug at his lips and his worries ceased for a second before he remembered what loomed over them, what loomed over him. There was so much to lose for him. And so much to possibly gain. With his mind made up, he stood up from the bed and fastened his sword to his hip. Slipping off his necklace and setting it on the bed near (Y/N)'s hand, he whispered an apology and kissed his temple.

Then, he left Kattegat.

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #vikings valhalla x you #vikings valhalla x male reader #vikings valhalla #vikings #vikings valhalla x y/n #vikings valhalla x reader #harald sigurdsson x y/n #harald sigurdsson x you #harald sigurdsson x male reader #harald sigurdsson x reader #harald sigurdsson #leif eriksson #freydis eriksdotter #jarl haakon

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thepaperpanda · 2 years

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𝓓𝓪𝔂 12 - Nothing But a Thrall || Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Ivar demands a private meeting with you in your hut after the feast thrown by him.

Warnings: smut (unprotected s*x, name-calling, BDSM, mentions of Freydis, mention of pregnancy)

Word count: ~ 3980

Author: Fenrir

A/N: The prompt for today is: Torture

After the feast thrown by the new king himself, Ivar told you to go home without stopping and without looking back. Ivar and you grew closer after he conquered York. Being his shield maiden wasn't an easy task - everyone knew Ivar the Boneless wasn't a grateful person who would have treated others with respect. Your relationship strengthened once he became king of Kattegat following his victory over Lagertha. In spite of his marriage, you always supported him.

As soon as the door shut, you could feel him standing there, watching you; your heart jumped into your throat, and you felt shy, nervous, your nipples turned into points, and your pussy clenched as you realised that he was devouring you with his blueish eyes; you felt like his prey, all excited and thrilled at the prospect of him devouring you.

His eyes were hard, and his arms were crossed.

Knowing that you were going to be punished, you immediately cast your gaze downward.

Ivar's voice stated matter-of-factly, "You didn't come straight home."

As your heart galloped beneath your breast, you flicked your eyes up to his. "I did."

Quick as a snake, he grabbed you and twisted you so your back was up against him, his hot breath was right in your ear, and before you could gasp, he had severed one of your nipples. He said, "Liar. You sat by the river with my fucking brother Hvitserk, you didn't come right in." And then he pushed you away again. In a dangerous voice, Ivar ordered you, "Now, take your fucking clothes off."

A slight tremor went through your body as blood rushed to your cheeks; you wasted too much time being embarrassed until his harsh voice broke your paralysis, "I ordered you to strip off."

Your face burned as you felt his eyes assault your bare flesh as you slowly pulled up your shirt, revealing your stomach. After removing the shirt, you let it fall beside you, revealing your round breasts; your hands came around, gently cupping yourself.

The sound of his voice whipped you, making your cunt squeeze with anticipation. "Stop touching yourself, slut, and keep going, I want it all off. Look at me," Ivar commanded.

As you raised your eyes to him, he stared at you, declaring his ownership over you. He smirked when he saw you freeze in his gaze. Slowly moving his eyes across your body, he stared at you with a challenge.

Knowing that he was looking at you, that he wanted what he saw made you weak in the knees; this time you moaned aloud.

The voice of Ivar sharpened, becoming more dangerous, but you secretly enjoyed the idea of stalling, even for a few seconds, to see what he would do.

"I did not say you could stop. If you stall one more time, you'll regret it," Ivar said, but his voice was low, more dangerous, and you secretly looked forward to it.

You slowly pushed your pants down over your hips and down your legs, and then stepped out of them; next, you reached for the waistband of your panties, and slowly pushed them down. The damp circle in your pants made your flush brighter.

"Are you already wet?" Ivar asked, knowing you were; you could see him smirking as he watched you. "Bring me those panties, Y/N."

Your panties hung from your hand as you moved forward.

After taking them from you, Ivar took them up to his nose, and he inhaled your scent while still looking into your eyes.

As you looked at Ivar, air sucked in over your teeth, a half sigh, half moan escaping them.

"Were you touching yourself?" Ivar asked, cocking his brow at you.

It was impossible for you to lie to him, so you shook your head.

"You were just excited about getting fucked, weren't you?" Ivar pushed you away. "Turn around."

A throbbing ache filled your cunt, as your heart thundered in your ears. You turned, feeling his eyes crossing your back, your ass, down your legs, marking every inch of you as his property. "Come here." So quiet, so full of dark promises, Ivar's words cut into your core.

You followed him into your bedroom, feeling your pussy lips rubbing against one another and you had to suck your lower lip in to prevent yourself from moaning.

Ivar sat on the edge of the bed, put his crutch beside him and gestured for you to join him.

Knowing what he wanted, your body propelled itself forward; kneeling over his lap, feeling the hardness of his dick pressing through his pants and into your belly, your breathing rapidly increased as you felt the heat radiate from your unkempt cunt.

Ivar's hand ran roughly over your back, down your ass, and cupped you; the other snaked into your hair to sharply pull your head back; you groaned, unable to keep quiet.

Ivar yanked your head back, and he squeezed your ass with the other hand. "What were you doing with my brother?" He asked simply, demanding a quick answer.

Pressing your round ass into Ivar's hand, you moaned.

His hand stung you with a harsh slap.

The impact made you whimper and jerk.

"I asked you a question, fuck-slut, what were you doing with Hvitserk?" Ivar's hand was caressing your burning flesh. Again, he smacked you, and you cried out.

You trailed off, "I was talking with him about you," until he pulled your hair again, jerking your head back further as his other hand ran lightly across your exposed pussy.

You moaned for him.

His harsh voice rang in your ears, "Fucking answer me, slut. What were you two talking about?"

"Oh, shit! I told him if I got late, you would punish me," you almost cried, and felt your pussy get wet. You were rewarded with another smack from Ivar, this time against your aching cunt.

His gentle touch soothed you as you cried out and writhed against his hand.

Ivar continued to hold your hair and fondle your round ass, saying, "Fucking slut. I think you deserve some punishment for hanging out with my stupid brother," he dipped his finger into your soaking cunt, then quickly drained it. "Look at you, Y/N, look how wet you are. Don't you like it when I punish you?" Ivar yanked your head back.

You cried out, moving your hips a little, begging Ivar to touch your aching pussy again. "Yes, Ivar! Yes, I do!"

You felt another sharp sting across your ass, then another, and finally a third right on your cunt.

Your whole body tensed as you squealed.

Ivar's finger was shoved back inside your cunt, feeling your walls squeezing against him.

As he shoved his finger into your pussy, you moaned, loving the way he invaded your flesh.

In the same moment, he retreated and rained a few more harsh blows across your ass.

"Get on your fucking knees, fuck-slut," Ivar demanded.

As you frantically knelt in front of him, your legs shook.

As he undid his pants, Ivar pulled out his dick, which had already become hard as a rock.

The thought of having him inside you made your pussy throb as you licked your lips.

Ivar looked at you as he stroked himself slowly, that smirk back on his face and that devilish look in his eyes. "What do you want, little Y/N?"

As you watched his hand slowly move up and down his cock, your whole body leaned into him as you licked your lips again.

As he reached out and grabbed your chin, Ivar forced you up and looked into his blue eyes, causing you to blush and feel your heart race again. "I asked what you do want."

The only words you could muster were. "I want to suck you, to taste your dick..."

You moaned aloud as Ivar smiled at you, making your pussy throb. "Go ahead," he encouraged.

Your lips gently brushed against his dick as you licked it.

As his hands twisted in your hair and pulled you onto his dick, you gagged, choked, and felt tears well up in your eyes. In your effort to keep his dick that deep in your throat, you moaned around his dick as you began to relax your mouth and throat; your breath came in harsh bursts through your nose, and your eyes watered. When you looked up at him, you realised Ivar was glaring down at you hardly. A few more times, Ivar thrust into your mouth, gagging you with his shaft, and then he let go.

Taking a few deep breaths, you gently licked your sore lips, then began to fuck him again with your mouth. Each time, you ran your tongue along his length, sucking on his dick; as you continued your rhythm, Ivar grasped your hair again, but let you fuck him anyway; you could hear him breathing hardly, almost gasping from time to time.

"You like sucking me, don't you, Y/N?"

As you gazed up at him, your cunt contracted around nothing; you gripped his thighs as you gagged yourself on his dick.

As Ivar pushed you off his dick, you moaned and licked your lips.

"Tell me you liked it," he demanded with cold strength, sending shivers down your spine.

After casting your eyes away from his face, you let out a soft, weak sigh.

Again, his hand was firm as it grasped your throat, under your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Say it, slut, I wanna hear it."

You moaned, feeling your breathing shortened because of his hand rough against your neck, "I like sucking you, Ivar."

Once Ivar had let go of you, he gestured to you to lie on the bed. You got up and lay down quickly.

Immediately, he began fastening you with the belts that he had prepared earlier; your arms and legs were spread, limiting your movement. After you were restrained, he turned his back on you, removing his cape and reaching into one of his pockets; Ivar turned back towards you with a scarf, and your heart raced. When he got closer, you writhed and jerked at the restraints, your breasts heaving with excitement and trepidation. Ivar blindfolded you deftly. As you lay in the darkness, all you could feel was the bite of the leather belts on your ankles and wrists, the cool air against your hot skin, and the feeling that Ivar's eyes were still on your naked form, exposed so sweetly to him.

"Fuck-slut, look at your wet pussy, you're dripping," his voice caused you to shake your head and bite your lip.

His hand suddenly touched you, and you bucked against him. As Ivar touched your round breasts, he gently gripped the flesh, his hands hot against your skin. You moaned and arched your back to push yourself firmly into Ivar's grasp. You cried out as both of your nipples were twisted harshly; Ivar's warm tongue soothed your aching tips as you cried out again.

With his hands and mouth, Ivar delighted you, causing you to struggle against the restraints to feel more of his mouth, more of his hands. Suddenly, he stopped touching you.

Your body ached with sexual need as you moaned in complaint and writhed on the bed.

"What's wrong, slut?" Ivar's voice was harsh, teasing.

You knew he enjoyed watching you writhe in need; he knew he was driving you crazy but you thoroughly enjoyed it. Continuing to wriggle about, you groaned, "Oh, you're still here..."

Suddenly, he slapped your breast, causing you to hiss in between your teeth, and then you felt his hand on your inner thigh, casually resting next to your dripping cunt; you groaned and raised your hips in an effort to reach for him.

"Tell me what you want," Ivar said.

When he gently poked your nipple with his other hand, you squealed, "For the love of Thor, I love being teased by you!" When his fingers gently touched your pussy, your whole body twitched in response.

"What do you want, slut?" Ivar asked.

While wriggling against the restraints, you moaned, your hands clenched into fists repeatedly. "Oh fuck, I want you to touch my pussy, please!" You pleaded.

A dark chuckle and a slap against your exposed pussy rewarded your honesty; you squealed, bucking against the straps.

You continued to suffer from his delicious torture.

As Ivar slapped against your aching cunt, it caused you to cry out and cringe against his hand. He then gently touched your tender lips, probed his fingers into your wet cunt, making you arch your hips to keep his hand on you. The only time he punished you was when you were close to coming. Ivar's growl rang out, "Don't disobey, little cunt. You don't fucking come until I tell you to."

As your pussy ached, you cried, "I won't, fuck, I promise."

Suddenly, Ivar pushed two fingers into your pussy, massaging all of your delicious spots.

Your hands and legs thrashed against the restraints, and you screamed out, as your body spasmed from the orgasm. You panted and cried out as your mind and body were consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

You could hear Ivar's dangerous quality in his voice as he hissed lowly, "You slut. I told you not to come."

You eagerly took his fingers into your mouth, tasting your own juices, before you could murmur an apology. Sucking his fingers, you wanted him to see how much you enjoyed being his slut.

His gloved hand stroked your face gently; his other ran across your breasts, pinching each nipple and watching your mouth open and close. "Good girl," he exclaimed while gently stroking your cheek, "But you came anyway. I told you not to come."

You panted in anticipation of his divine punishment as your heart flipped in your chest. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself!" You cried, pulling against the restraints. "I'm sorry!" The pleas you made fell on deaf ears, you knew deep inside.

Ivar ran his hand down your side, making you gasp. "What should I do with you now?" Ivar whispered to himself. "How should I deal with your greedy, little cunt, Y/N?"

You could hear him moving on the bed and feel him kneeling between your thighs.

"I'll be good. Please," you said as you strained against the restraints; you could feel his naked thighs just out of reach, and you fought the urge to grin at the thought of him getting undressed just for you.

Slowly, he shifted forward until the tip of his dick touched your pussy lips. Ivar said, "I think you should lay there and let me fuck you right up against your greedy pussy."

You cried, moved your head a little and moaned out, "Oh no, please, fuck, please! I need to feel you in my cunt, Ivar."

You felt another slap against your cunt; Ivar earned a loud moan from you.

Ivar stated matter-of-factly, "That is exactly what your cunt needs." As Ivar stuck the tip of his dick in you, you clenched around him, yearning for the rest of his cock. "You better not come this time,” Ivar quickly pulled out and slapped your cunt with his thick cock. "Tell me you won't be a greedy slut today, Y/N."

You shuddered as you promised, "I won't be a greedy slut."

As Ivar shoved his tip into your pussy, he used his hand to pump up and down the shaft, feeling you try not to spasm around his cock.

You knew that he was enjoying what he was doing to you, looking down at your greedy cunt trying to get more of his dick; seemingly of their own accord, your hips started to raise off the bed and grind against Ivar, pushing him deeper.

You had no idea how long he kept doing it, fucking himself while you struggled and panted for more of his dick.

Then, when you felt the beginnings of an orgasm building within you, Ivar would withdraw and administer a stinging slap to your slopping, swollen slit. After repeatedly bringing you to the edge of coming, he smacked his open palm fully against your cunt. The more he did it, the more your words became pleas; you were begging him, crying out, coming so close again and again.

Finally, you were begging Ivar in a breathy voice, "Please, please, please"; your legs lay gaping open, your swollen, red pussy glistening from your excitement.

It was obvious he was taking in the sight, admiring how you were still eager to feel his dick, longing to come for him. You liked to imagine that Ivar was smiling, thinking about how much you wanted to belong to him, be his fuck toy; you started biting your bottom lip, breathing faster, starting to move your hips in an effort to relieve the tension.

"What, fuck-slut?" His voice made you gasp.

"Please, I want to come," you whispered. "Can I come?"

Your mouth dropped open as he slid his hands under your ass and you felt his breath against your hot pussy lips; each word was a hot breath against you, "Beg me to let you come."

"Ivar, please don't torture me any more!"

His tongue slowly encircled your wet slit; you moaned aloud, bucked against Ivar, his lips tugging at your clit, and you pressed yourself more into his mouth.

You yelped in pain as Ivar nipped at your clit with his sharp teeth. The man's lips were at your slit, his tongue lapped up the opening and plunged into your cunt, causing you to gasp in astonishment. He pulled away for just long enough to say, "Come for me, slut," and his lips were on you again, teasing your clit as he pushed his fingers into your aching pussy.

As his fingers fucked you roughly and his mouth burned against your clit, you felt the orgasm come on suddenly; it was bright, hard, and made you squeal and moan incoherently. After your sudden release, you lay there gasping for breath, shuddering, feeling woozy. "Thank you," you whispered in a shaky tone.

He nipped again at your clit after sliding his fingers from your clit and feeling your cunt contract around him again. "Good girl."

You let out a loud moan.

Suddenly, you felt him get up from the bed, as you lay tingling and wondering what high he might have still for you. The only thing you heard was his crutch hitting the floor repeatedly, and you felt the air against your skin as your pussy throbbed yet tingled with anticipation.

Suddenly, you felt a light touch running from your foot up your leg.

"What are you thinking about, Y/N?" Ivar asked casually.

In response to your prolonged silence, he grabbed you by the throat, pushing you down into the bed. "I asked you a question," Ivar said, releasing his grip enough for you to breathe.

"I love being your slut, Ivar. I'm yours, and I'd love to finally make you cum within my pussy, Ivar," you gasped and shuddered under his hands.

Your knees tried desperately to press together to soothe your hot pussy as Ivar released your throat.

You could hear his dark chuckle, and you felt yourself squirm. "You're just greedy, Y/N, aren't you?" Ivar asked.

When he removed your blindfold, your face flushed again as you saw Ivar's look in his eyes; your heart began to pound once more.

Because you were so weak, you didn't realise that he had undone your legs, and was currently undoing your wrists. With your eyes closed and a soft smile on your lips, you let your body lay limp in the glow of Ivar's desires.

"Get up," Ivar said.

As you got up, smirking, you noticed the fact he wasn't ashamed of his legs; his pants were lowered under the curve of his ass, the braces on his legs stayed on; after all those long months, he opened up to you fully, and you helped him overcome his weaknesses. You knew how much it cost him to stand on his legs for so long, and you were so grateful for his eagerness in making you come so many times.

Ivar gripped your arm and forced you to bend over the bed; he shoved your face down, and pulled your hands together on your back. You stood, your ass fully exposed, your pussy wet and dripping; you looked back over your shoulder, and saw Ivar smiling at you mischievously.

As he grasped your hips, his hands massaged your flesh. After a short time, his one hand released one of your hips.

Turning your head, you saw him spitting on his cock, spreading his saliva all over its hardened shaft with his palm. When he pushed himself deep inside of you from behind, you yelled loudly, "Oh, Ivar!"

As much as his legs would allow, he started bucking his hips into you, constantly increasing his pace. "My little, fucking slut," he grunted in a husky tone. Even though you were still incredibly wet from his previous actions, Ivar's cock was thick enough to cause you some discomfort.

The only way you could meet all of his thrusts was to roll your hips for him and allow one of his hands to wrap around your nape, squeezing it.

The way Ivar fucked you was merciless. You kept getting a few hard spanks on the stick out butt while he continued thrusting into you. Through gritted teeth, Ivar spit, "You fucking cunt feels so sweet on my dick. You're going to make me cum, Y/N."

Ivar cum within your cunt within a few thrusts, rolling his head back; his gloved palm squeezed your hip so hard you could be sure he left a bruise.

As you whined loudly, you let a few tears stream down your cheeks because the pleasure he provided you with was unbearable.

As he worked on improving his shirt and pants, he let you lie down on the bed to rest.

The room was eerily cold, and you felt your pussy aching as you watched him; you knew he was about to leave you to return to Freydis, his pregnant wife. The heartache inside of you always came to the surface whenever he left you behind in order to get back to her; you knew you were nothing but a thrall to him that he could use however he pleased, for he was your king after all. "Ivar?" You whispered.

In response to your voice, the Boneless cocked his eyebrow and looked at you.

“Will you stay, even if just for a while?” You asked openly, even though you knew his answer already.

He was bold with you when he said, "You know well that I can't. Freydis is waiting for me, I guess she already sent someone to find out where I am."

Silently, you nodded your head, admiring Ivar's features; he was the most handsome man you have ever seen.

As he walked to your bed, he rested his weight on his metal crutch. As he stroked your cheeks, his touch was like a cool breeze in the summer. "I know, I know. What did I tell you last time, little Y/N?"

You recitated the words he told you after your last intercourse, "I must be strong and understanding for our bond will never fade."

"Good girl," Ivar praised and slowly limped out of your hut, leaving you naked on your bed.

As he closed the front door, you rolled over on your back and enjoyed the soft fur beneath you. As your left hand slipped down your body, it rested on your lower abdomen. Even though you knew a part of Ivar loved you truly, you were too scared to confess to him that you were carrying his child.

#Ivar x reader #Ivar the Boneless #Ivar the Boneless smut #Ivar smut #Ivar the Boneless x reader smut #Ivar the Boneless fic #Ivar's heathen army #Ivar Ragnarsson #vikings #vikings x reader #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #vikings smut #fic recs #paperpanda kinktober #kinktober 2022

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underscorewriting · 2 years

Text

Mutual Hatred | Part One

Modern!Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: Smut implied

Part Two

951 Words

Hatred. That's all she felt for her boss. Nothing ever satisfied him, nothing ever fit the way he imagined it. No 'thank you' or 'please' ever left his lips. She was a very patient person, held herself back most of the time, but even her shyness seemed to be pushed away by the anger she felt.

He yelled at her, that's all he ever did and she couldn't deal with it. Her history with being yelled at went way back, him screaming and bashing things in his office, because she did a little unnecessary thing wrong, didn't make it any better.

Closing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath. "How can you be such a fucking idiot all the time? Gods I should just fire you, instead I keep up with your bullshit!" She flinched as he ripped her whole work apart. Anger boiling in her stomach, her jaw clenched as she tried to stay calm. "Sir, I promise you, this was exactly the way, you explained that you wanted it." Her voice was shaking with self control.

"Don't you start being smart, okay? I told you exactly how I wanted it and this-" He walked up to her pointing at her with his finger, but she interrupted him. "And this is exactly how you asked it to be! I did everything you ever asked not even getting a thank you! Let me tell you, I work my ass off for you and your brothers, but at least they appreciate my work! I should've stayed with being Sigurds assistant, at least he told me what I did good..." Turning away from him to grab her things.

She could feel his burning glare on her back. She wouldn't admit it, but Ivar was attractive. He made her feel things she normally wouldn't feel towards her boss, but he was a jerk and she hated him. "I remember, you only got the job because you fucked Sigurd." A smirk was on his face as he leaned against his desk. "He told everyone, that was probably all you've been good for, a quick fuck."

Her head whipped around as she quickly walked up to him. "I never slept with your brother! Not even once, okay?! I worked hard for this job here and that's what I got from it?" She walked up to him and could just barely keep herself from shoving him. They stood close, very close, he could feel her fast breath on his chest through his button up and felt the need to take her right here like he once had dreamed of. He wouldn't though, he hated her.

Her cheeks were heated in anger as she looked up to him, giving him her most innocent smile. "Besides, if I fucked your brother, it wouldn't have been any of your business. It's not like I'd ever fuck you." Her eyes held a playfulness in them, he accepted the challenge mentally, knowing he'd win. With ease he spun them around and smirked down at her, his hand on her hip, pushing her against his desk, and the other wandering down her body slowly, almost torturing her thoughts and emotions.

"You don't think I notice you clenching your thighs together each time I yell at you? Or the way you bite your pencil during a meeting while you watch me? Gods you want to be fucked by me so hard, it's almost pathetic." He chuckled darkly, watching her reaction. Her cheeks redend, her lips parted slightly. His hand wandered back up to her face, caressing her cheek as his thumb pulled down her bottom lip, making a quiet gasp escape her.

Each quick breath she takes, quiet noise she makes, pushes his ego more and more. "Gods, how often I imagined those lips wrapped around my-" A sudden knock on the door made him sigh in frustration as she tried to gain control over herself again. This went to far, her cheeks were burning and in her stomach was a fire lit. Closing her eyes tightly before reopening them and grabbing her stuff.

She could see Ivar smirk as he was leaning against his desk, not even bothering to say anything to the person outside of the door. Taking another deep breath she opened the door, outside stood his secretary with some coffee in one hand and something else in the other. „Freydis..." The girl mumbled before quickly racing back to her own office. As soon as her door was shut close behind her she felt like she could breath again. She didn't understand how Ivar had such an impact on her. She felt intoxicated, not in a bad way, but she couldn't tell if it was any good either.

Her mind was running a marathon as she touched her bottom lip softly, still feeling the roughness of his finger linger on. Her back met her door as a small smile appeared on her face. Maybe working for Ivar wasn't fun, but she knew whatever this was going to be, would be a lot more fun than anything else.

As she sat down on her desk and opened her mails, her breath caught in her throat. „You clenched your thighs at least five times in the short while our talk lasted. I assume you bit your lip the way you'd bite your pencil, so if I count that it would be seven times. I've proven my point enough, come to my office by the end of the day and I'll prove some more points. - I.R."

Leaning back in her chair, she stared at the mail in disbelief. This man was going to be the death of her, she was sure about it.

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar fluff #ivar the king #vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar x you #ivar fanfic #ivar vikings #modern!ivar x reader #vikings fluff #vikings imagine #ivar Ragnarsson smut #smut

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trans-marcus-brutus · 1 year

Text

I said I wasn’t gonna do this but here I am anyway here’s my live reactions to Vikings Valhalla Season 2 obviously spoilers ahead

Olaf what the FUCK that’s your baby brother

MAGNUS BABYYYYYYY WE GET TO SEE BABY MAGGIE

I love Freydis so much

Leif and Harald striking off together 😩

Hm Godwin blinding someone already. won’t be the last time

I’m about to simp for Yaroslav

LEIF SAVES HARALDS DUMBASS LIFE GOD HE CARES ABOUT HIM

THEYRE GOING TO CONSTANTINOPLE AYYY

If Olaf and Aelfgifu fuck I’m gonna throw my laptop out the window

Olaf stop being WEIRD you did not just compare yourself to a dog and try to make it sexy

Where the fuck are Alfie and Eddie

Is Harthacnut born yet

Godwin crusty as usual I hate him

Is Harald smoking literal crack why is he constantly like this

Well. Apparently Leif is the one smoking shit

Oh god his ass is gonna fall off the roof

Hi my names Leif I’m 19 and I never fucking learned how to read

Hmm. Not a fan of slave boat guy

Are they fucking racist in uppsala 2.0

Are they doing the Viking heritage thing please stop 💀

Why is everyone here being awful all of a sudden

Who is this blind dude

Godwin suck a fat dick for me why don’t you

Fucking burn his ass Freydis

Did Aelfwynn have a thing with that guy??????? Why she upset?

Nvm that’s her brother oof

Is Gytha Godwin’s future wife

Leif’s two brain cells smoking rn

All aboard the bitchboat

Harald if you don’t shut the fuck up

Is there someone stowed away? Oh. The slaves. Hm :/

“I’m reinventing myself”

“Yes, I see. As what.?”

Yaroslav is Harald’s new dad

“WHAT COULD GO WRONG” YAROSLAV IS SO PERFECT

Emma that is such a lesbian moment

I throw up in my mouth everytime godwin sucks that girls face

I refuse to believe no animals messed with those bones out in the god damn woods

Emma went from hot to scary in .2seconds

Aelfwynn girl you’re too good for that fuckass

EMMA THE STONE COLD BITCH FUCK YES

I love Kurya I wanna kiss him

I love everyone on this ship except that fuckwad slaver

EW OLAF FUCKED

that took like .2 days

VITOMIR

I’m glad the fucking slaver died

I wanna fuck Kurya even more

If anything happens to baby Harald I’m killing everyone and then myself

Leif needs to stop chasing girls who are gonna die

Olaf who are you so insane

WHAT THE FUCK ARE THE PECHENEG TITTY BARBS

IF KURYA DIES IM RIOTING

KURYAAA

brb gonna fucking cry he was so cute

Is this the fucking pope come to visit

Olaf stop being so manipulative omfg

MARIAM

TAKE CARE OF HIM FOR ME FUCKJKKK

EUGH GODWINS WEDDING

I want a medieval wedding

“I have great expectations of your children” fuck me in the shit balls fuck….

SHE GAVE HIM HER LITTLE HOUSE NOOOO

Emma gave her the fucking dead dude ring didn’t she

IS GODWIN GOING TO GET FUCKING TOPPED LMAAAAAOOOOOO

I really wanna see Godwin get pegged

Like I hate him but maybe it would fucking loosen him up a bit

Harald if you would stop being a whore for two seconds

Yoooooo Freydis “and are all these men baptized?” I got fucking chills

OH MY FUCKING GOD SHE SKEWERED HIM

Svein is such a literal infant

The crucifix imagery is *chefs kiss* god and he does become a martyr fuckkk

ROMYS HERE THE BYZANTINES ARE HERE

Short king

Not the Justinian fit

WHAT?!!! HIS EMPRESS?!!!

ROMANOS ISN’T EVEN THE EMPEROR BY BLOOD

WHERE THE FUCK IS ZOE

WHERE IS SHE WHERE IS MY BYZANTINE MELODRAMA WHERE IS MY QUEEN

WILL WE FUCKING GET JOHN

LEIF HARALD SHOULDER TOUCH ON THE WAY TO COCKSTANTINOPLE

I CANT WAIT TO SEE BYZANTIUM

I need season 3 yesterday 8 episode seasons is nowhere near enough bruh 😭

#Vikings Valhalla #shut up dangos

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riverkloss · 2 years

Text

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

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the-girl-in-the-box · 1 year

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Can You Imagine? XIX

A/N: FINALLY another update- I feel like most of my author's notes start out that way XD Still, I haven't abandoned this, an am consistently working still on it, Not Today, and One Swallow Can Make A Summer, so I'm hoping to get on a schedule of posting a chapter a week, rotating which fic gets updated each week! Next on the list will be an update for Not Today, and then we should be on a good schedule. So stay tuned for those updates if you're interested- otherwise, I hope you enjoy this (very late) update! Skål!

Summary: Freydis was dead. At least, when she’d lost consciousness, she’d been sure she was. But now she has woken up in a cold, sterile environment, one she is certain is not Valhalla, and the world as she once knew it has changed. People now have strange abilities, some of them, and people they call ‘scientists’ are trying to give them to her. The bigger issue, though, is the fact they have also woken the very man who killed her. Ivar the Boneless lives again as well, in the same way Freydis does, and if they want to survive... she may have to learn to trust him again.

Masterlist

Seize the Moment and Stay In It

Leaving Ivar behind hadn’t been in Freydís’s plans. Björn, she hadn’t ever even intended to pick up, but this was another game entirely now. She was spiralling out of control, and she’d hurt Ivar simply for interrupting her. What kind of a wife did that? Hadn’t she been upset with Ivar for hurting her? For behaving toward her as no husband should? What kind of a hypocrite was she, to hurt him now?

You aren’t a hypocrite though, are you? Not really, a quiet voice whispered in her mind. The presence had returned, once again just behind her, but when Freydís now tried to look, she thought she saw some kind of dark shape quickly escape her peripherals, hiding behind her again as it laughed quietly. You cannot see me, it told her. Not like this.

“Can I see you?” Freydís asked the voice, her eyes slipping shut as she tried to call the figure it came from into view.

Not like this, it repeated. You know how.

It surprised her to find that she did know how. Her eyes glowed red as she began to levitate in the air, her body tilting back as if in a bed. She fell asleep.

When her eyes opened in that space from before, where the ground was cracked beneath her feet, with something glowing beneath. Now, Freydís was able to recognise it for what it was- that is, that it was magic, just the same as the magic she possessed. What exactly this place was, she still wasn’t sure, but she felt more connected to it now. It felt somehow more comfortable now.

The voice was no longer just that, as the same figure which had met her here before walked out from behind her, still just as mysterious, hooded and hiding her face. “See?” she said, seeming rather smug. “You did know how to see me.” Freydís rolled her eyes, unable to help herself.

“I did,” she replied. “But we’ve spoken like this before.”

The figure hummed and chuckled softly. “We have,” she confirmed. “But I think you have called me here for a purpose haven’t you? What is it you wanted with me?”

Freydís swallowed a bit. The truth was that she had wanted to ask something of this figure which was always with her, but how she had known that… It was baffling, at best. At worst? Outright concerning. “I don’t know where to go from here,” she confessed. “I mean, I do know, but I can’t do it.”

“You must,” the figure advised. “If you won’t, everything is lost. Surely a few moments of their pain will be forgiven? Ivar has done far worse to you, and they have done far worse to each other. Why not take this chance for all of you? For those in the future who you will save from this fate you are already suffering?”

“Then you are saying that this sacrifice is necessary for the greater good?” Freydís questioned for clarity’s sake. The figure nodded.

“I am afraid so,” it replied, and stepped forward, brushing a hand through Freydís ’s hair. “There is no other choice if you wish to put an end to the schemes of those who wish to play at weaving fate.”

Freydís nodded reluctantly, and took in a deep breath which she let out slowly. “Then I have work to do,” she almost whispered. The figure hummed, and then suddenly Freydís was waking, and she adjusted so she would land on her feet when she returned to the ground.

It was a dreadful thing, realizing what she had to do to her husband and his brother. But if she was going to find the information she needed from either Dr. Schmidt or Professor Andersen, she wasn’t sure she had much of a choice. So, she began the work of preparing her space, creating little fires all around herself in a circle by burning various sticks and leaves. Then, laying out her book in front of herself, she began to write the runes around herself which would allow her access to the right minds- even as wrong as it felt.

Her search began, seeking out the paths she needed to make it through to Ivar or Björn- whichever she got to first. They both had that final connection, she was almost certain of it, and if Björn didn’t for some reason then she was certain that Ivar would, and Björn would have the connection to Ivar. They were the final pieces of the puzzle.

Being entirely alone meant that there was nothing to break her focus or her concentration, and that made the process all the quicker and more painless for those she had already been through. They would barely notice anything, aside from perhaps being reminded of what had happened the first time she passed through their minds. This being the first time she was connecting to either Ivar or Björn, however, they would feel the full force of the spell, only to be relieved once she had finally reached her ultimate target. She just hoped they’d recover well enough.

When the spell finally reached Ivar, Freydís crawled her way into his mind just as she had with every other mind before his, and he cried out from shock at the sudden sight of her, and pain from the violence of the action. But that wasn’t the only shock- not by far. What shocked him beyond that was how grey her skin had become, the deep black around her glowing red eyes. Her teeth seemed almost like fangs as she cried out at the effort it must have taken to get into his mind. Not to mention how thin her fingers had become, looking more and more like ink dipped claws than anything else. What had happened to her? What had happened to his wife?

By the time she left, Ivar suddenly could see his surroundings again, and it was only then that he realised he had lost sight of anything but his own mind until then. Björn was kneeling at his side, but it did little to soothe Ivar, who was shaking and suddenly very, very cold.

“Was it Freydís ?” Björn asked, and Ivar managed to look at him, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. But still, he managed a nod. “What did she do?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Ivar answered, trying now to sit up. “She came into my mind, and…” A chill ran through him. “She didn’t look like herself anymore.”

Björn opened his mouth as if to answer Ivar, when suddenly he too cried out, and collapsed to the ground. His hands came to his head and he clutched at it, screaming from whatever pain he must have been in. If she was doing to him what she’d done to Ivar, then he knew the pain Björn was in. Ivar grimaced a bit at the thought.

Unfortunately, all he was able to do was wait for Björn to come back. Or, rather, for Freydís to release him the spell she had captured his mind in. Whatever it was she wanted, she had needed them both to find it, and then apparently she had it as Björn seemed to snap back into reality. He looked up at Ivar, eyes wide with horror.

“You’ve seen her,” Ivar surmised, and Björn nodded slowly.

“What has happened to her?” he questioned, barely getting the words out as he tried to shake off the pain.

Ivar swallowed, his eyes clouding with regret, along with many other things- one of which was grief. “That book,” he said. “I think she has gone too far into it, and it’s corrupting her beyond what we could have ever imagined.”

Björn was quiet. Ivar could tell he was thinking hard, which he may once have teased him for, but now he couldn’t find the levity to do so. Eventually, Björn asked him, “What do you think she was looking for?”

Well, Ivar certainly didn’t struggle to answer that. After everything they had been through, unless there was some sort of memory of Kattegat she sought, there was really only one thing that bound her and Ivar to Björn. That facility which had raised them from the dead, where she and her husband had first met Doctor Schmidt and Professor Andersen; where they had first been reconciled with each other.

“The facility we were kept in,” he said to Björn. “She wants a way in. My memories of jt aren’t quite enough, we have mostly the same memories, but yours… They trusted you more than they ever trusted us. My mind was just her link to you.”

“We should warn them,” Björn said, staggering to his feet quickly as he now had a mission in mind, but Ivar shook his head.

“No, they deserve whatever she would do to them,” he decided. “I won’t save those who have caused us pain, not when they will cause that same pain to others.”

Björn huffed in irritation. “Then what do you suggest we do?” he questioned sharply.

Ivar’s answer was simple, but first, he needed information from Björn. “You do know the way in?” he asked. Björn nodded. “Then we meet her there. Those people deserve whatever she would give them, but I cannot let her repeat my mistakes. I fear we would never get her back.”

He could tell Björn was unsettled at the prospect- at all of it, really- but he could also see that Björn was resigned to this. “We needed to get in anyway,” he figured. “May as well let her help us.”

May as well let her help us…

Ivar couldn’t help but wonder when his wife had become someone he and his brother, the legendary Ivar the Boneless and Björn Ironside, feared. What would they call her when history told their story? Their names were known already, but she had only once been Queen Freydís , defined by her marriage to him. The image of her eyes still burned in his mind, glowing red as she showed her power. No, she wouldn’t be Queen Freydís any longer. He thought something along the lines of Freydís the Scarlet was far more appropriate, now. He figured they’d see exactly why when they met her again.

Unfortunately, time would prove Ivar right. When Freydís arrived, she had the information she’d taken from Björn’s mind floating around in her own. That meant it was easy enough for her to get in, but it could only get her so far. What she had was a map now, essentially, but she didn’t have anything near an already cleared path into the facility.

She made surprisingly quick work of detonating any firearms pointed at her, turning the blasts back on them once they’d been fired. It wasn’t long before witnesses stopped trying to fire on her, knowing what she would do, but she hadn’t gone to spare those working in that facility. Freydís had gone for blood.

The hallways were flooded with red light as she fought through, alarms blaring in her ears to call out, ‘Invasion! Intruder! Danger!’ in their own high pitched, squealing ways, but Freydís didn’t stop. The warnings were about her, and were proven necessary when she wrapped magic around the throat of one of the guards, and used it to sever his head from his body with a single pop! The nearby guards gasped and cried out from shock as she then made his body turn on them, lifting his gun and firing a quick round. Their screams fell silent as she dropped him, and stepped over their corpses.

Her face now coated in a smattering of blood, Freydís stalked through the halls. The gunfire must have been significant enough a warning, because everything had gone still. No defenders rushed out to meet her, push her back and out. Anyone left had hidden, which meant she now had full access to the entire facility. Perfect.

Freydís stalked through the halls, searching each door for what she knew she needed. Any door that was locked to her, she simply decreed was not, and so every door was open to her. Eventually, she found what she had been looking for.

Doctor Schmidt was the first to face her. “Freydís,” she said. “Before you do anything rash…”

“Anything rash?” she repeated, laughing in the woman’s face. “Believe me, I am being perfectly reasonable.” Without waiting on an answer, Freydís reached out and took Doctor Schmidt by the throat, lifting her almost violently into the air.

She heard a familiar gasp of, “Freydís !” and turned to see Professor Andersen standing there, his eyes wide with fear as he looked at the two women before him.

“Ah, hello,” she said with a cold chuckle. “I don’t suppose you can help me, can you? I’m looking for information, about those you have brought back from the dead like myself, like my husband, and Björn Ironside. Do you have it?”

Professor Andersen opened his mouth to answer her, but Doctor Schmidt hissed out, “Give her nothing.”

Unfortunately for them, Freydís ’s mind worked quickly. She figured that Doctor Schmidt was willing to pay with her own life, if it meant keeping these secrets from her, but what about the life of another? Would she sacrifice Professor Andersen to the same end? She suddenly dropped Doctor Schmidt in favor of lifting Professor Andersen in the same fashion, deciding to find out.

“Do you still wish to give me nothing, Doctor?” Freydís asked, looking back to her. “Now Professor Andersen’s life is on the line, will you give him up to save your secrets?”

Doctor Schmidt swallowed, but her eyes hardened. “Kill him,” she said. “I won’t tell you anything.”

Freydís turned to look at Professor Andersen, whose wide eyes reflected the betrayal he felt at Doctor Schmidt’s words. “And would you give your life for her secrets?” she asked him. “Or do you want to give me the information I seek, and save yourself?”

Before he had the chance to answer, the most familiar voice yet yelled, “Freydís , put him down!” She turned to see Ivar and Björn rushing in, horror written across their faces. Ah, so they had seen what she’d done to get this far. Oh well, she supposed that couldn’t be helped.

“Why should I?” she questioned. “You know what they did to us, to others like us. Why should I give them any mercy now?”

She watched Ivar swallow, noticed how Björn kept an eye out, likely to be sure no one snuck up on them, and she tried to keep an eye out herself, as well. “Because you won’t ever come back from this,” Ivar told her. “I have always admired you for the path you never took. Don’t take it now.” Freydís turned back up to look at Professor Andersen, the fear he regarded her with, and even as a dark voice whispered in her ear to snap his neck, she remembered a night from over a thousand years before. She’d had this sort of fear when Ivar took her by the throat, when she had demanded to know what he’d done with Baldur.

Her magic weakened around him suddenly, and she let him drop to the ground. As soon as she did, she heard Doctor Schmidt scoff, “I knew you wouldn’t have it in you.”

“Did you?” Professor Andersen asked her, around each breath he managed to take through his choking. “Did you know? Or did you know there was a risk?”

“Of course I knew,” she said, but Freydís ’s eyes narrowed a bit.

“You’re lying,” she accused. “You couldn’t have known. I did not know myself until I released him.”

Doctor Schmidt huffed, as if irritated with all this. “Alright,” she said. “I knew there was a risk. But it was a necessary risk.”

Professor Andersen shook his head a little. “I wouldn’t have taken that risk,” he confessed. “Even though you told me not to tell her anything, I still would have done it if it would have kept her from killing you.” He took a deep breath, then stood to his feet as he looked to Björn, Ivar, and Freydís in turn. “But I won’t let my loyalty stay in the wrong place,” he told them. “I’ll give you everything you need.”

Freydís was stunned, but she wasn’t about to question his sudden change in heart. “You’ve made the right decision,” she said, and when he nodded, she saw no hesitation in his eyes. She felt no lie in his heart, when she looked, and she nodded in return.

They left Doctor Schmidt behind- Freydís , Björn, Ivar, and Professor Andersen- to go down the hall to what seemed to be an archive of sorts. There, Freydís watched as their guide went into a drawer to pull out a thumbdrive, which he then plugged into one of the computers. She kept an eye on everything he did to be sure all he downloaded to it was the information they needed, no trackers or anything of the sort. Fortunately, it seemed he did exactly as he was meant to, and was soon handing the thumbdrive over to her.

“It doesn’t have any sort of lock on it so you won’t end up without access,” he said, “but that does mean you need to be careful not to-”

“Not to lose it,” she finished for him, and nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”

Professor Andersen nodded in return as he released the thumbdrive, which Freydís pocketed and stepped back. “Good luck.”

“You too,” Freydís said. She didn’t imagine there was any version of this where Doctor Schmidt didn’t retaliate against him for what he’d done, and it was for that reason that she really appreciated his assistance. Doctor Schmidt had expected him to die for their research just as she had been prepared to, but he made a different call. He’d turned the tide in their favor in that moment.

With little else to say, Freydís turned back to Björn and Ivar, and the two looked to her for their next step. Seeing they were ready to go, she turned and put out her hands, magic flowing out from them and pouring into a sort of cloud that hovered before them. She stepped through, expecting for them to follow. As soon as they were, she closed the portal to shut the facility behind them. They would soon reach the end of their efforts now, and it would only be a matter of time.

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

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar #freydis #queen freydis #ivar x freydis #freydis x ivar #freyvar #alex hogh andersen #alicia agneson #ivar’s heathen army #vikings #vikings history channel #history channel vikings #can you imagine?#chapter nineteen

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seeasunset · 8 months

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Hardy Winds with: @w0rldeater

Reading:

👄

❖

It's not every day someone's hand slipped into his mouth when there's an opportunity to do so. And it seemed as if Freydis took an advantage of this. To mock him, perhaps? To tell him to shut up? Is it something else? Who to say with her?

It can be a number of things.

Although there's a glint of surprise within those goldish-brown eyes of his, he smoothed it out as quickly as he can. With ears going backwards, much like a cat's ears when they are ready to attack, and nose wrinkling in annoyance, teeth came down as hard as he could into the flesh. Hopefully breaking the skin and making her bleed.

#w0rldeater #Sᴍᴏᴏᴛʜ Sᴀɪʟɪɴɢ ﹣ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴀsᴋ #⊰━Aѕĸ αɴѕwered━⊱#she asked for this #and should expect it to happen

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jadelynlace · 2 years

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saw you were struggling with some writing ideas! i’m not sure if you wanted requests but figured i’d send a few ideas your way to see if it gets anything going for you. you’ve mentioned how ivar despises your vibrator, what’s it like if he’s out of town and you’re about to use it but he’s hidden all the batteries. fluffy/smutty massages, sounds so hot to me. what are birthdays and anniversaries like?! do reader and ivar have home births or hospitals? i hope this helps xx

Thank you anon!

So, when it comes to Ivar and your vibrator, I go back and forth. Initially I thought him hating it was comical—but if I dive deeper into that I think he hates it because of his past relationship. Where Freydis was cheating on him because of his psychological ED so she could still get her “fix”. And, somewhere in his mind, you using your vibrator triggers that memory. That insecurity—simply because he thinks he can’t please you; when he knows rationally that’s not true. It’s no different than him having toys. But then…he realizes he can use it as his teammate. You know what that is? Growth. And now, in the day and age we’re in where toys are rechargeable, I do think he would be a little shit and take the whole thing with him when he’s away. Or just the cable. Only because he knows, when you’re turned on and craving that release, if you can’t find your toy, or it dies right before your climax, you’re going to call him. And oh, he likes it when you call him for that.

We have talked previously in the past about Ivar getting more tattoos on his back and enlisting you to rub lotion on them. Even when it’s literally a small design, or a touch up, or just some shading, he’s already face down on the bed with his arm outstretched in any vague general direction with a bottle of lotion at the end. Just waiting for you.

Speaking of massages/back rubs, I do think Ivar would be a little shit and buy a baby onesie that says “I was supposed to be a back rub” because he thinks it’s funny. To add to that, he goes out of his way to find baby clothes like that. The raunchier the better. The kid’s only a baby once. Aslaug kind of hates it, Floki encourages it.

I do also think that Ivar loves to rub your back; he’s touch oriented as we know. Just to help you fall asleep, yes—and also to help him fall asleep. He’s so content just to stroke your skin in the most innocent of ways. But you also love to give him back rubs just to feel his muscles.

So, when it comes to birthdays, and Ivar and Hvitserk being fraternal twins (an idea which still has a chokehold on me), I do think they have this unspoken rule where they try to spend it together. Of course, if time allows for it. You and Ivar do end up doing something for his birthday typically on the weekend before or after. Ivar is pretty much willing to do whatever you want to do for your birthday, as long as he’s able to blow your back out like you blow your candles out.

When it comes to anniversaries, Ivar is a sap. This should not be a surprise. He will try to plan something, even if that something if glaring angrily at your chief because you weren’t able to get the day off from work. When you two are parents, you know he plans something away from the kids, where Floki or his mom can watch them, even if it’s for a night. (Although he would prefer a weekend away with you.)

I go back and forth when it comes to home births versus hospital births. On one hand, I think Ivar, doing as much research as he does, scares himself into a hospital birth because what if there’s a complication? The mental images I have of Ivar in the hospital with you during labor are just too sweet not to share, and you know this man is so excited and dedicated because of what’s about to happen. Holding you, rocking with you, trying everything to make sure you’re alright (even if you just need him to shut up). And, I do think each birth is the same way; you’re his full attention. Love and intimacy got the baby there and he fully believes that creating that type of environment again will get them out.

But, I also kinda love the idea of a home birth because of the environment that creates. And, Ivar assisting in delivering his children. And the moment of panic where Ivar realizes he’s going to be a father within the hour on the living room floor before he fully accepts that fate. And embraces it.

This got so long, sorry not sorry. I’ll probably think of more to add on eventually, too.

#vikings #vikings au #modern vikings #ivar au #vikings fiction #ivar lothbrok #modern vikings au #modern ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar #modern ivar #vikings hvitserk #Hvitserk #Hvitserk au #modern hvitserk au #modern Hvitserk #ivar x you #modern ivar x you #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )

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melodicwitchlight · 9 months

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arcaneprophesied ☀️ ivar the boneless :

During the entire 'transaction', Ivar watched the expressions on Athena’s face. The fear and distrust pulled a smile from the crippled king, who was known for his bouts of cruelty and unchecked anger. He wonders which stories have made their way to the Vestmenn - the Irish - which tales of battle have they heard? Or perhaps some version of Sigurd's death floats in their mind now.

When the deal is struck and the woman leaves, Ivar looks to Athena with a smirk. Boneless doesn't know the Celtic language spoken by the Vestmenn, though he knows English and his morsmål- given that the deal had been finalized in English, he wonders if Athena knows any Norsk. "Sitte," comes Ivar's command, gesturing to a seat nearby. "Snakker du Norsk?" He asks and before even gaining a response, he continues. "Mitt navn er Ivar den Beinløse og Jeg er din nye konge."

“If you do not speak our tongue, you will learn,” he warns.

she is in the village, finding herself by the seashore where she had seen the waves in. where am i? she thinks. as water is trickling through her face, as she touches her skin.

as she wanders, her feet digging into the grains of sand ( as she had no shoes or slippers ), she sees the houses, thatched straw roofs ( wheat for chocolate biscuits ). she nodded in thought, closing her eyes briefly and sighing in tiredness ; an inclination of nervous tick.

she then sees a boy, pensive and looking through a book. he had found her bible, fluttering away to wind, and he grasped the delicate crumbling object, so as to not lose it to thor. he was looking for answers, amidst his drug haze. he said his name was hvitserk during their conversation, she noting he looked ill or suffering tremendously, and saying ‘ please take care of your health ‘ ; a sirach passage.

as athena entered the house, a man is talking to a person called baldur who said he was a norse god and they had discussed business of trade. baldur had on a black suit with white buttoned blouse. he himself, of course was one. as encouraged by freydis, when he had thought he was a crippled monster. she sits next to him on her own throne, blond braided hair and wearing a dress.

after business concluded with baldur, ivar looked at the next person in line. she says, ‘ hi, earl ragnarsson,‘ to him and bowing in respect. she is holding her bible ; hearing him say he worshiped norse religion to baldur. she remembered deutoronomy had abhorred norse, there being a passage where thiago demolished karou and akiva’s pagan shrine.

she starts to say a starting passage from it, ‘ when you cross the jordan to search and occupy mount gerizim and e’bal, you shall bless it….’ as she is used to reading the bible, and it weaving in conversations with others.

ivar had gestured for her to continue, she beginning to say something about adventure, as he liked stories, his mother aslaug spoke stories to sing he and his brothers to sleep. intrigue in his blue eyes, as he leaned on forward in chair. she was an newcomer to kattegat, he thought, as he hadn’t seen her before. she was likely a foreigner from the far isles, as there was a fishing dock nearby.

yet she realised during, ‘ you must demolish completely all the places, search out and destroy that do not serve our god…’ he looked quite scary and remembering she was in pagan land, and paused. she is quiet and blinked nervously. in the monastery, father cuthbert had been quite mean when he was performing her monk duties, when she was a male. he did not even listen to her, she working to the bone, and he saying, ‘ sit down or shut up. ‘ ivar’s expression slowly changes to one of suspicion, during this time, wondering who or what she was saying and planning of demolishing, and he glares.

her eyes widen at hearing him say he owned her, at her silence, ‘ perhaps you are to be a thrall since you have lost your tongue, ‘ and she is startled. she didn’t want to continue on the passage, as he might kill her!

he is angry she wasn’t responding after a long time ( perhaps she is an enemy ), as she looked like she was judging him. he recalled killing when he was a child with his little axe, the other children teasing him. and his mother aslaug had soothed him, saying it’s all okay. he had many angry rages, yet thinking he may endure being boneless, despite the mocking words around him that he was not a man. he had endured much. he slides down from the chair ; the coils of a snake 🐍 slithering to the ground and held his crutches next to him to calmly walk to her. ‘ you must surrender to me!!’

she thinks he is about to strike her, slithering in for the kill, and shrieks, backing away.

‘ brother! ‘ hvitserk rushes to where ivar was, and says, ‘ let’s try to understand her strange runes. ‘ ivar stares at his brother, and says, ‘ alright, alright, ‘ he calms down, anger shadowing in his chest.

‘ this is my house. you must remember. so sit, ‘ he gestures to a seat across from him, gesturing at her hesitancy, and she sits down. he himself makes his way back to his throne, walking on his cane. ‘ do you speak norse? my name is ivar the boneless and I do not speak your tongue. I understand a little of what you say, from our travels to england. ‘ and there was sinric, the translator whom was not with them right now. ‘ yet why do you stop in your story, hmm? ‘ they could have found some way to continue communicating in the heart of all the noise and confusion. ‘ now, what were you saying of destroying? ‘

hvitserk gave her some bread, as she is shaking, she thanking him. it was a french delicacy that they brought from france 🇫🇷 during their raid there ; brioche bread. as she chews, she thinks on what to say. she looks at where she left the story off in her bible. the fragrant incense of beauty calmed her a little, she looking briefly around her, and seeing ivar was seated next to her, with no more indication of real insidious intention nor that her speaking in the bible didn’t make god strike her when she stood. ‘ I wasn’t thinking of destroying anything. it is a passage from my bible, ‘ as she holds her bible tightly, yet in unison of the pages in beautiful calming thought.

#rp partner | arcaneprophesied #writing.#athena ic.#foretoldchaos

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shiiimmer · 5 years

Text

#ive been working so much on my mental health and i think its actually working!#like i changed into a more intense form of therapy #ive been meditating and doing this writing exercise #and today i just sat and wrote for an hour without thinking #and i think i started a story??#shut up freydis

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scandinavianfairytale · 2 years

Text

Beside you

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Warnings: So. Much. Pinning 🙈 All the fluff 😊 Ivar being attentive 💙

I know you're still online. Read the text as you glanced at the screen that turned on and illuminated your otherwise dark working space. It was Ivar again.

Can you stop spying on me? You replied and rolled your eyes.

I wouldn't have to spy on you if I knew you were making good choices. Ivar rolled his eyes as he texted. He was staring at your window, only a small blue light still on in an otherwise completely black apartment. Suddenly the window opened and your head poked out of it. You looked equally tired, anxious and angry.

"My God, Ivar! Can you go annoy Freydis and leave me alone?!" You screamed down at him. He has been like this for the last 3 days.

"Right. I'm coming up."

"Ivar no, I have a deadline I need to catch." You groaned and put a hand over your head.

"I don't care. I know your code and I'll be up in 2 minutes. If you don't open up, I will start yelling and banging on all your neighbour doors." He replied nonchalantly and before you could say anything else, he was already entering the apartment building. You sighed and closed the window before saving your documents and almost letting out a shriek as you realized in what state the apartment was. Before you could tidy up at least the clothes that were lying everywhere there was a loud knock on the door.

"I know you heard me. And I suggest you open the door in 30 seconds or all hell is breaking loose." You heard Ivar say loudly. You could almost feel the hate the neighbours will feel towards you if you don't get him out of the hallway.

"What do you want, Ivar?" Finally the doors opened and he was met with a very dissatisfied looking friend. He didn't say anything, just marched past you, taking off his shoes and entering the apartment.

"By all means, come in." You rolled your eyes and slammed the doors shut.

"Did you save your work?" Ivar asked and pointed to the computer.

"Yes, but- Ivar no!" You yelled when he slammed the computer shut.

"You can't do that-" You were cut off, when Ivar spun around to face you, marching to you and stopping right before you, grabbing your arms.

"Listen, you've been working at this pace for almost a month - you've barely seen Erik or me or anyone else. And whenever we see you you're looking completely drained and tired or preoccupied because your head never leaves this project. You aren't even sleeping well anymore - the bags under your eyes tell me everything. So I'm done watching you wither away. Go get changed and ready for bed. I'll make us some tea and put on a movie and I'm not leaving until you're sound asleep. Now, move." With his head he motioned to the bathroom and nudged you in the same direction. Even though you grumbled something under your breath you still followed his instructions.

Ivar took a big inhale as he looked around the messy apartment.

"Okay then." As the water boiled, Ivar picked up the trash and clothes that littered the floor and furniture and gathered all the dirty dishes that you accumulated, before soaking them in dish water.

After the bathroom door opened, the steam was the first that exited, before you made your way to the bedroom. Ivar already made the bed and the projector was already set, the soft whirl of the machine instantly calming you - you always felt like it was a white noise machine your sister used to put her baby to sleep.

"Here you go, chamomile to help calm you down."

"Did you-"

"Yes, lemon and honey were added. Now just lay down and relax."

"What movie are we watching?" You asked as you got situated in the bed, before grabbing the tea cup Ivar offered and inhaled the scent of your favourite tea.

"Collosal." Ivar replied and got in the bed as well.

You laughed and made small comments as the movie progressed, but he could see how sleep was slowly creeping in on you. Your speech got slurry, your eyelids got heavy and your comments stopped making sense, but he could see you wanted to power through it.

"Just...yarn...car." Was the last thing you got out before you fell asleep. Ivar chuckled and took the empty mug from your hands, before shutting off the projector and turning to observe your shallow breathing before settling beside you and falling asleep himself.

Thank you for reading! 🙏💙

The GIF doesn't belong to me - belongs to the amazing creator! 🙏😊

So this is another part of the story that has no head or tail at the moment 😅 I will make a Masterlist when I'm done or when it finally starts making sense and the gaps are filled 😅 but I did switch the narrative a bit - instead of 3rd person POV it's switched to 2nd person POV, hopefully that's okay 😊

#alex hogh andersen #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #modern ivar #vikings #modern vikings #fanfic #short story #beside you

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bumblesimagines · 11 months

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Under The Moonlight

Part 9

Request: Yes or No

A bit short but bittersweet

~~~

Dipping his hands into the stream, he felt the water slip through his fingers and the cold jab into his skin. He sighed and winced, a sharp pain erupting in his chest. Looking over his shoulder at Harald, he motioned for the prince to get closer. Harald staggered toward him and carefully lowered himself down beside him, barely audible whimpers of pain escaping him. (Y/N) reached out, taking the chest piece off and pushing his shirt up to expose Harald's stomach. Hesitantly, Harald peeled his soaked hand away, allowing (Y/N) to inspect his wound. Swollen, red, and warm. Things that made worry slither through (Y/N).

"We should build a fire." (Y/N) suggested, pulling his hands away from Harald's bloodied skin and looking at his sister as she washed the side of her head and freed it of dried blood. Freydis nodded, using the yellow sleeve of her tunic to dry her skin.

"Not here," Harald muttered, brows furrowing slightly when (Y/N) ripped a piece of his bloody shirt and dipped it in the water. "We're too close to Kattegat. If Olaf sees smoke-"

"You are more useful alive, Harald. If this isn't taken care of, you'll die." (Y/N) cupped his hands in the stream, feeling the water caress his aching wrist. He'd been luckier than the other two, making him the designated healer for the time being. Lifting his hands from the water, he reached toward Harald and dumped the water in his hands on him. Harald violently flinched and cursed, punching the grass beside them and digging his teeth into his bottom lip. (Y/N) took the cloth he'd ripped and squeezed the water out of it before gently wiping the area around Harald's wound.

"I don't see his use," Freydis grumbled, brushing her finger over the cut near her hairline and wincing.

"He's a warrior, Freydis. He'll be useful once he gets better." (Y/N)'s eyes flickered up to Harald's face as he carefully ran the cloth over the wound, watching his features twist and contort. "And if Olaf finds us, we can trade him for our lives."

"He is sitting right here- Fuck!" Harald howled when (Y/N) accidentally pressed too hard, nearly falling back and curling his fingers into the ground. A pained groan escaped him and he ripped out chunks of dirt and grass to prevent himself from lashing out at the man beside him. He dismissed (Y/N)'s quiet apology with a shake of his head and breathed heavily through his mouth, eyes squeezing shut.

Pulling his hand back, (Y/N) grimaced at the sight of more blood seeping from his wound. Shaking his head, (Y/N) dapped at the blood splatters on Harald's face. "Freydis, can you collect some wood for a fire?"

"I'll look for something to eat as well." Freydis stood up and wiped her wet hands on her pants, glancing at Harald one last time before she headed deeper into the forest, the leaves and twigs crunching underneath her heavy boots.

"Olaf will be too busy feasting to bother with us, and even if he sends out scouts, it'll soon be too dark for them to see smoke. We've been traveling for a day, Harald. We'll be alright for the night." (Y/N) pointed out, looking up at the darkening sky before he turned back to Harald as he grunted his agreement. Reaching out, (Y/N) pulled the shirt up and above Harald's head, movements briefly pausing when he noticed Harald's cross. Harald kept his cross hidden from him by tucking it into his shirt, he realized. Looking away from him, he dipped the shirt into the water to rinse it of blood and then squeezed the water out of it as best as he could. He wrapped the shirt around itself before slipping it around Harald's waist and using the sleeves to snugly tie it.

"Smart.." Harald mumbled, grazing his fingers over the makeshift bandage. Lifting his gaze up, he couldn't stop himself from staring at the blossoming purple and green around (Y/N)'s neck. Faint enough to miss it at first glance and certainty not as bad as his wrist, but the sight of it made Harald's heart twist. If he had been there alongside him, he could've saved him a world of pain. If (Y/N) hadn't gotten himself free... Harald tore his eyes away and watched the water instead, letting the thought linger in his mind.

"You should take care of yourself." He said softly.

"I'm fine, Harald." (Y/N) responded, dipping his hands into the water again and lifting it up to his lips to drink. It felt nice and cool against his dry mouth.

"You can hardly breathe well, your wrist looks like somebody painted it with berries, and your neck is changing color. You are not fine."

"Maybe if you'd been there, we both would've been better." (Y/N) shook his hands and stood, leaning down to grab Harald's arm and sling it around his shoulders. Harald stood up with a soft grunt and leaned against (Y/N), instinctively pressing a hand to his injured side. Taking him toward the nearest tree, (Y/N) helped him sit back down and rest against the tree trunk. He glanced back at the grazing horses and sighed, sitting down beside Harald.

"Why did you leave?" (Y/N) asked quietly after a beat of silence, fingers picking and pulling at the fabric of his shirt. Harald lifted a hand to his face and scratched his beard, eyes staring forward at the stream. His teeth caught his bottom lip and he sighed heavily.

"I believed if I tricked Olaf and Kåre into thinking I was on their side, I'd be able to learn of their plans and warn Kattegat ahead of time. Olaf said he knew I was lying because I'd never betray you or Leif so he didn't tell me of his plan to trick Kåre into thinking he'd attack the harbor." Harald explained hoarsely, tilting his head back to lean it against the rough bark of the tree. He turned his head slightly to gaze at his lover- or perhaps former lover- and raised his hand toward his face, using his thumb to wipe at a droplet of blood on his cheek. "And it's true. I would never betray you. I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted to prevent you from getting hurt."

"The pain I feel now was nothing compared to when I saw you with them, Harald. You told me you'd always remain at my side and then you left. You..." (Y/N) swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to lean into Harald's touch. Taking in a deep breath, and then wincing at the spark of pain, he looked at Harald. "The first person I trusted freely put a torch to my house and put a scar across my chest. I learned my lesson that day, and yet... I let myself be open with you. And you turned your back on me for a plan that resulted in Kattegat falling."

"I know. I was foolish and... I suffer the consequences." Harald sighed, dropping his hand and resting it over (Y/N)'s wrist, rubbing his fingers over the thread of the bracelet before gingerly touching his bruised wrist. His warm skin tainted by purple and green. It made his stomach twist. His aching head made his eyes squeeze shut. "I never expected to grow so... to grow so..." Harald closed his mouth, grunting softly. (Y/N)'s brows furrowed, taking note of the light sheen of sweat covering Harald's skin.

"Harald?" (Y/N) breathed, eyes shooting down to Harald's hand as it began to tremble. "Harald? Harald, look at me!" Scrambling onto his knees and leaning over him, (Y/N) cupped his face and feel unnatural warmth under his fingertips. Harald whined softly, lips beginning to quiver.

"(Y/N)! I found a cabin! (Y/N)!" His sister's voice echoed through the forest, the sound of her rapid footsteps approaching pulling his attention away from Harald. The wide smile on her face fell and she ran over, skidding to a stop beside them. "I-I found a cabin near here. It looks abandoned."

"We need to treat him, Freydis." The two stood, hoisting Harald up and dragging him toward the horses. They got him on one and (Y/N) secured his arms around Harald's bulky figure, mindful of his wound as he grasped the reins and followed Freydis into the forest. Harald continued to wince and grunt softly, occasionally babbling incoherently. The cabin came into view soon after. It was small and appeared to have housed only one person. Slipping off his horse, Freydis helped (Y/N) lower Harald down onto the ground and pulled him into the house, locating the cot in the corner and laying Harald over it. He'd begun to shudder and whimper, eyes cracking open only to squeeze shut again.

"Make a fire, Freydis." (Y/N) instructed and Freydis nodded, rushing outside for a moment to collect some sticks and twigs. She quickly entered again and tossed the sticks into the fireplace, expertly sparking a fire and blowing into it, coaxing the hungry flames to grow. (Y/N) slipped his danger out of its sheath and handed it to Freydis, letting her warm the blade with the fire. As she waited for the blade to heat, (Y/N) untied the shirt and pulled it away.

"Infection?" Freydis asked breathlessly as she stood at his side, offering him back the dagger, and stepping around the cot to take Harald's wrists into her hands and pin them down against the cot.

"Most likely." (Y/N) muttered, waiting a moment for the blade to cool a bit before abruptly pressing it down against Harald's wound, a sickly sizzling sound following. The pained scream that escaped Harald nearly made bile rise up (Y/N)'s throat but he kept the blade pressed to his skin even as Harald thrashed and cried out. Freydis struggled to maintain his arms down, occasionally losing her grip only to regain it and hold him down again. Strands of her blonde hair slipped from her braid, falling over her flushed face. Her chest heaved from exhaustion and she let out a breath of relief when (Y/N) pulled the blade away and Harald slowly calmed down.

"(Y/N)..."

"I know, Harald. I know." (Y/N) whispered shakily, inhaling deeply as the adrenaline that had filled his veins washed away. Freydis released Harald and slumped back against the wall, brushing her hair out of her face. (Y/N) looked around the cabin, identifying the kitchen and a small wooden tub in the corner beside the fireplace. Setting the dagger aside, he walked toward the kitchen, finding dry herbs and rotten meat. Picking up a bucket, he turned toward Freydis. Without needing to hear a word, Freydis nodded and pushed herself off the wall, walking toward him and taking the bucket.

Even with the wound dealt with, the infection still ran rampant in Harald and the chance of Harald gaining another infection still remained. Taking out all the herbs he could find, (Y/N) began picking out the ones he knew could help battle the infection and silently thanked his mother for teaching him the basics. He tried tuning out Harald's whimpers and shudders, focusing instead on churning herbs and mixing things until he made an ointment. He walked back to Harald and dipped two fingers into the ointment, wincing at the sore red skin as he applied it. Harald flinched at his touch, dry lips parting to protest softly.

"You're a pain to deal with, Harald." (Y/N) sighed, wiping his fingers on his pants and looking over the cabin again. He worried about the owner and what they'd think if they returned and found them there. But his mind soon grew consumed by what he needed to do. Harald needed food to grow strong and combat the infection. But seeing as Kåre had summoned multiple clans, he doubted food would be abundant. The chances of a successful hunt would increase if he took Freydis with him but they risked losing Harald if he went too long without care.

His train of thought stopped when he felt a clammy hand take his and hold it. He looked down at Harald's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and trailing his gaze up to Harald's face. (Y/N) pressed his lips together and sat down on the edge of the cot, stroking Harald's hand and watching him begin to daze off. "You hurt me, Harald. But I don't want you to leave this Earth yet. You may wish to meet God and you may think me selfish for saying this... But I need you to stay here. I've lost almost everyone I care for. I can't lose you too." And then, he felt his hand be weakly squeezed. His trembling lips pulled into a small smile and he chuckled softly, leaning over to kiss the edge of Harald's lips.

Slipping the bracelet from his wrist and tying it around Harald's neck, he leaned back and took his hand again. "I love you, Prince of Norway. Don't leave me alone again."

➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸

It'd been nearly two weeks since Harald had fallen ill. He spent most of his time slipping in and out of consciousness, staying awake long enough for (Y/N) to feed him and give him herbal tea before slipping into a deep slumber for hours. His fever had taken days to go down and (Y/N) made sure to keep him cool with the water Freydis would bring from the stream but it eventually went down enough for his skin to feel warm instead of blazing hot. But (Y/N) knew the three of them could only survive on rabbits, squirrels, and berries for a couple more weeks. Harald needed large amounts of food if he were to gain back his strength. So, albeit hesitantly, (Y/N) decided to go out with Freydis in search of something bigger to eat.

(Y/N) felt nostalgic walking through the forest with his sister. Tracking down animals back in Greenland had always allowed him to spend time with his siblings, exchanging tips and chatting about anything. Leif would always take it more seriously than them, constantly hushing them and looking at them sideways when they laughed too loud. But he took them along cause without them, he'd miss them too much to be away for long. Freydis appeared to feel similarly, apparent by the peaceful look in her eyes and the small smile on her face.

"Freydis," His sister looked at him, tilting her head slightly. "I never asked how you felt about..."

"You and Harald?"

"Yeah. I know it was a bit of a shock." (Y/N) chuckled softly, continuing to scour the ground for tracks in the dirt or scat or chunks of fur. Freydis looked forward again and shrugged her shoulders lightly.

"Truthfully, I care little for Harald. He is a decent man and I can see why you feel the way you do for him. But he's also the type of man who will always seek power and even when he vows to live a modest life, he'll still be longing for power. He is a prince. It's in his veins to desire a crown, even if it means betraying his own kin." Freydis sighed and reached out toward him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. "He is also a Christian. If he ever takes the throne, he will have a Christian counsel. He will be encouraged to make his people follow Christian customs and values. You know this, (Y/N)."

"Have you ever been in love, Freydis?" (Y/N) asked, placing his hand over hers and wrapping his fingers around her wrist. Freydis hummed and looked up at the clear sky, taking his words into consideration. She thought about it carefully before pursing her lips.

"There was a man back in Kattegat. His name was Koll Hjortsson. He was a believer in the Old Gods, just like us. I believe I was falling in love with him. He was very kind and intelligent. But he is in Valhalla now. And I may be carrying his child." Her words made (Y/N) freeze, head snapping in her direction and eyes widening. Freydis bit down on her bottom lip, nibbling at the skin and staring at the ground, foot lightly digging into the dirt. He immediately looked her over. Her slim figure hadn't changed and he couldn't spot anything new about her.

"How do you know?"

"I've been feeling ill lately. At first, I thought it might've been a normal illness. But I remembered what the women say about pregnancy and it makes sense. I believe the Gods have given us gifts for our bravery and faith. Harald has been getting better and I have been blessed with a child. Perhaps... we were meant to be here, living in that cabin. When Harald grows healthy again, we can make it a proper home and in due time, we'll be dealing with a babe." Freydis smiled widely, affectionately rubbing her belly. (Y/N) stared at her as the information settled in. His sister was with child, their brother was missing, Harald was still sick, and the chances of going home grew slimmer with each passing day.

"Gods, Freydis..." (Y/N) breathed and stepped around, arms wrapping around her waist. She laughed softly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head against his and closing her eyes. (Y/N) squeezed her lightly and leaned back with a smile. "Come on, then. We've got to make sure your child comes strong and healthy."

They continued the search for a meal and eventually stumbled across fresh tracks. From the shape of them, they identified it as some sort of deer and began tracking it through the forest until they found it grazing in a clearing. Pulling out an arrow and drawing it, (Y/N) aimed at it and released, hearing the arrow whizz through the air before the deer cried out. It attempted to run but its efforts proved futile as it stumbled to the floor. The two siblings quickly ran toward it, ending its misery and thanking the Gods. They heaved it up by the legs and headed back to the cabin, taking minute-long breaks. Once at the cabin, they prepared the pot and ingredients before skinning the deer.

As the stew cooked over the fire, Freydis stepped out to check on the horses while (Y/N) stirred the pot. He heard a soft grunt and turned his head, blinking as Harald propped himself onto his elbows and struggled to sit up. Inhaling sharply, (Y/N) set the spoon aside and walked toward Harald, helping him sit up properly. Harald winced and stretched a bit, hearing a soft pop come from his back. He tiredly looked over the cabin as (Y/N) dipped a small cup into the water bucket. He lifted it to Harald's lips, satisfied to see him drink without difficulty.

"How are you feeling? We're cooking and-"

"I love you too," Harald spoke hoarsely and reached out to place a hand on his cheek, a small smile appearing on his face. "And I'm never leaving you. Not again."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #vikings valhalla x you #vikings valhalla #vikings #Vikings valhalla x reader #Vikings valhalla x male reader #harald sigurdsson x reader #harald sigurdsson #harald sigurdsson x you #harald sigurdsson x male reader #freydis eriksdotter

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honestsycrets · 3 years

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Mistakes Were Made III: Double Trouble

❛ pairing | ivar x reader, past!freydis x ivar (not in this chapter)

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | he doesn't know when to shut up.

❛ tags | sperm donor fic, general argumentative banter between characters, new characters appear, "fat" talk, Ivar being a bit of an ass,

❛ sy’s notes | hi everyone! i've lost my tag list for some reason, so I've tagged a few people.

There are 621 sperm donors at his company.

Therefore, 621 choices to choose from. If Maoise thought he was spying, on what he loathes to think is you, there are still 620 other choices in the company. 254 have blue eyes like his. Besides, he doesn’t really know which company you went with. As you sat there, looking up at the waiter with eyes too kind for any other man, he reminded himself of that.

“What’re you looking at?” you’d snap.

He glances at you behind his rounded sunglasses, dark with the morning light. He’d chew on his lip, searching for the right answer to your unfortunate question. “Why is it that when other men talk to you, you act like an angel? When I do, you’re a bitch.”

“Such a gentleman,” you quip back. You sit a moment, and think because your eyes quiver as you look off to the distance. Then, biting your lip, you sigh. “It’s how I keep up with you.”

“Me?” he’d prod.

“You’re not exactly the kindest boss in town that I could choose from.”

Not the kindest, but he had the most well paid employees. He knows that much. It’s likely the only reason you’re here with the stress he puts you over. The level of his bullshit hadn’t rose above the benefits and pay he gave you.

“Then if I was like him,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest. He watches your eyes settle over his arms, the watch glimmering on his wrist, before continuing. “You’d talk that pretty to me?”

“I never said that.”

“Why not?” he prompts.

“Why are we talking about this? Aren’t you going to interview Hvitserk today? Shouldn’t we review that instead?”

“Why? So you can ask what shade of blue he uses in his watercolors?”

“Then you wonder why I don’t talk to you.”

Ivar doesn’t man to be an ass, but it comes rather quickly as the only cripple in the middle of a band of brothers. He bites his lip and folds his arms over one another.

“He’s bringing a girl.”

“I thought he was hopelessly and happily single. Another toy?”

He was. Or, could be, between his fuckbuddy moments. “No. She’s been his friend for years. She’s special.”

Hvitserk was truly fucked. You seem to catch on rather well to what he meant; the sort of best friend that was a soul mate. Fortunate for an idiot ass illustrator like his brother.

“A Playboy has a soulmate. And here I can’t even find a date.” You sigh, a rare admittance of frustration other than heels. “I have a career.I thought I was pretty, I— have i put on too much weight? Am I that ugly?”

“You’re far from it.” He wonders why you need that positive affirmation, but doesn’t question it, eyeing your lips for their next motion.

You smile. Then glide your hand over the slight bump that was your belly, small and swollen with the growing bud. Ivar slips off his sunglasses. Hvitserk’s interview was a non-issue, but watching your hand caress your belly, was. He detests how much he likes to watch you stroke your belly, as if the fullness of the child gave you comfort that you’d soon feel much less alone. Ivar hums.

“You like it.”

“Hm?” you’d ask.

“Being pregnant.”

You flush. The softest smile that spreads over your face when the waiter delivers your food. Then his-- some fruit on hard bread-- because for the life of him, he can’t have you throwing up on the job. A meatless breakfast it is.

“Shut up, Ivar.”

It’s cute when you’re embarrassed.

If Maoise is good for anything, its making other fat visitors comfortable.

The last interview of the day was his brother— and his best friend, a pathetically infatuated and insecure girl, who needs all the help she can get. She stares at you shuffling about in a tiny skirt and skinny heels as if she wanted to be you. Ivar wouldn’t blame her. It may be all in her head, but its an image of her body she can’t shake free. So he rocks the waters. Just a bit.

“You love fat women. You’re my brother. I know these things. Just the other day you were asking for my assistant’s number, weren’t you?”

Ivar knows how to piss Hvitserk off. The love of Hvitserk’s life looks up, Hvitserk’s heart stops, Ivar’s successful when Hvitserk tells him off. Then, of course, because no good deed goes unpunished, he hears your voice over his intercom.

Stop it.

He’d glance off to the side if you weren’t staring him dead in the face, the picture of irritation, or hurt. He does the one thing he knows will calm you, throwing up his hands in surrender, not to his dipshit, lovesick, horny brother-- but you. You’re steaming when the set is wrapped up, heels stomping rather than clicking.

It’s good that he’s in trouble. It reminds him of being a married man.

After the interview, he knows where you’ll be. Maoise and you will surely be spreading out the catering over a long conference table. He pushes into the room, and unlucky him, Maoise speeds out at that exact second. “Sorry Mr. Ragnarsson, I have to go-- um, um, see Mr. Hvitserk. I think his girlfriend might need me!”

It’s a bullshit lie if he’s heard one.

In truth, you slam plates with remarkable force onto the table. He sheds his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, hobbling on his crutch to help you. Or, that was, until you put your hand up before him.

“I don’t need help.”

He could think about a hundred things to say that would have been better than what comes out of his mouth. “You’re angry?”

You ignore him at first.

“What is it now?” he stops you. “Is it because I called her fat?”

You rear back your hand back, catching his cheek with your palm in a cold slap. His jaw clicks, meeting with the hardwood floor. The pain pulses, achy and raw, as you catch yourself strutting awkwardly away. Ankles throbbing, because he knows the thin heels hurt your feet, any man worth his weight would.

“I told you to stop.”

You slapped him.

The realization settles on his shoulders as you gather your things and walk out the doors. Ivar was known to be crass on his show. It normally wasn’t an issue.

“Um— Mr. Ragnarsson sir? Your brother and— and?” Maoise chirps, her fingers curled around the wooden door. Ivar rubs the rawness of his cheek, nodding affirmatively to Maoise. His skin is inflamed, but he rubs it off in some pathetic attempt to act like it was all okay.

“Let them come in.”

“And Ms…?”

“She’s pouting,” he sighs, “This pregnancy has her out of her mind.”

“It— it might be because you called her fat. On air. In front of your entire audience?”

It shouldn’t hit him like a double-decker bus on his trips to England, but it does. Full, not fat, was the word he was looking for. But even so, why were you so fearful of fat? Maoise was fat— and she was cute in her own eccentric way. As much as he hates to say it. He looks back at her. She’s whirling her hands around her glittery blue skirt, that nervous tic she does when she’s all alone with him.

“Let him know I can’t make it.”

He snatches his suit jacket and limps out the door, setting his large palm on her shoulder for just a second. She jumps up, giggling through her words because she’s Maoise.

“Yes, sir!”

It’s not hard to find you. He’s your boss, after all, and he has your address. He’s never been at your apartment. His fist hovers about the door, unsure whether to knock or call, but he decides if you’re upset, you’d be less likely to answer his calls. Everything is done for the day, after all, and he’s pretty sure you won’t accept an invitation to go eat after all he’s done.

He knocks, but it’s not you who answers the door. Standing there is a blonde-haired man, whose golden hair drapes over one of his eyes, tattoos plastered across his cheeks. Despite his appearance, he has a calming effect. Ivar’s not sure if that’s good or bad. He reminds himself that you lamented about not having a man. So, then, who was this?

“Halfdan, who is it?”

He recognizes the other voice at once.

“It’s Ivar. Ah, hello.”

He knows his name. Well, it should not be much of a surprise, he is a local celebrity. He steps aside without another word, and Ivar steps forward, his feet failing him a moment. The other man secures him upright— and though he wants to hide something nasty— he recognizes the man and connects it to the voice he’d just heard moments ago.

“You might as well be here, too.” He adjusts his crutch and offers him his hand. “It’s been a while, Harald.”

Harald grips his hand securely and shakes it. Then, whirling around grips Ivar’s shoulder in what he can only identify as an awkward bro-hug. He knows Ivar hates hugs. It’s just a way of moving him into the home. Everything is soft. White fabrics and pale brown detailing. It’s crisp, clean, and does not go with the two men who snatched him by the shoulders.

“You look surprised to see me, brother!”

“I hate it when you call me that,” Ivar tells Harald. “I don’t even like my own brothers.”

The front door claps shut. Ivar bites back the beginning of an agitated sigh, moving toward the kitchen where Halfdan had already jogged back to. He slips on a frilly white apron and finally looks as ridiculous as his haircut.

“I didn’t know you knew her.”

“We’ve known her our whole lives,” Halfdan interjects.

“How is that?” Ivar regrets asking. “Childhood friend?”

Harald finally releases him to go into your fridge. He snatches a beer for Ivar, taking his off the table, and pops it open. Ivar takes it without pause and clinks his beer against Haralds. Harald speaks gruffly. “She’s our sister.”

It’s not too late for him to spin around, make his way out, and never admit this again. Even if he did, he knew Harald. The man may like calm, what with his long brown braid, and steady strong hands. But he is a complete and utter trick-- you would know he was there. You’d know he pussied out like a bitch. And you would definitely know that he knew all about them and still bitched out.

He brings the beer to his lips. “Huh. You don’t say.”

“Surprised?” Harald asks.

“Nope,” he says, like a liar, because he’s lying. Halfdan can even tell-- making the smallest of noises as he cuts through what looks to be chicken and asparagus. If he was betting, Halfdan was the cook and Harald was the eater. The talker. All of the above. “I’m going ahead and guessing that you’re here for the baby.”

Harald stares.

“A baby?”

He’s fucked.

@lisinfleur @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @tephi101 @punkrocknpearls @flowers-in-your-hayr @more-incorrect-quotes @laketaj24

#Ivar x Reader #Ivar the Boneless x Reader #Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader #Vikings imagines #vikings imagines #viking/reader #viking x reader #Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

Those who weave (Act I, Ch 1)

Those who weave Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Ivar/Freydis (I warned ya)

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+, smut, and then just the usual stuff for this story. The general warnings can be found on the masterlist, please keep them in mind because I won’t warn those in specific chapters.

A/N: So, here’s the first chapter! I hope you like this, I would love to hear your thoughts on this! Fair warning this takes place in an very Alternate Universe lol, I hope to explain it well within the story itself, but if I don’t just shoot me an ask and I’ll bullet point the main changes or smth. For character ages, think around 6b, diverts greately from 5b canon onwards tho.

Also, there’s passing reference to an AU version of Ivar and Freydis’ first interaction (in 5x03), you can find it here. Passing mention, nothing more, but still, it’s there if you wanna read it.

The dream is always the same, the boat is always flimsy underneath you, the waters are always gentle around you.

And the wanderer is always kind towards you.

“If you could ask the Gods for one thing, and one thing alone…tell me, wanderer, what would that be?”

The question is always the same too. And so is your answer.

Looking into his eyes you cannot help but think back to the waters you are so used to seeing around you in your dreams. The endless blue of his eyes that, like the all-encompassing waves of your dreams, try to understand it all, reach it all, by a look alone.

Like now, as he puts heavy hands on the sides of your hips and brings you closer, until you are standing between his legs.

You search his gaze, and though all you can think of still is the endless blue of a surprisingly calm sea, it is you who asks,

“What is it you want, Ivar?”

Head tilted to the side, he doesn’t hesitate to retort, “You.”

“You have me.” You promise playfully, endlessly amused at the annoyed narrowing of his eyes.

“Are you planning on being difficult for much longer?”

“That depends.” You reply, a little sing-song in your words and a growing smile on your lips as you wait for Ivar to bite the bait.

“On what?”

“Will you tell me what it is you want?”

His shoulders rise and fall with a deep angry sigh, but after a moment he gains a glint in his eye, and his hands on your sides creep lower, venturing down the curve of your ass.

“I want to use my tongue on you, have you hold yourself over my face as I make you shake and scream my name,” He tells you, sending a pang of heat through you. His eyes remain on you, hungry, as he continues, “And then I want to be inside you, deep inside you while you are still coming down from your high so I can feel you tight over my-…”

“That is not what I-…”

“You asked, love.” He interrupts, annoyingly satisfied with himself.

You cannot help the effect of his words on you, and even as your roll your eyes pushing lightly at his chest, there’s a part of you that feels heat settle low in your belly at his words.

Ivar grasps your wrists as he falls back on the bed, tugging you forward until you are held above him face to face.

You don’t even consider stopping yourself from leaning down and kissing him. How could you, when he looks so lustful and open and yours?

The errant thought that he very much isn’t all of those things is quickly pushed away by the heady daze of lust that settles over you, even now as you exchange slow and languid kisses. Fire-like warmth takes over, an ember awaiting only the faintest change in the wind to start a wildfire.

You kiss him and let yourself forget, you kiss him and give your hands free reign over him, you kiss him and forget to think or feel anything that isn’t him, that isn’t this.

Ivar pulls back, just slightly, just enough so that he can speak, but when your eyes open to look at him the words die in his throat.

You take in the way his cheeks and the top of his ears still after all this time sport the faint shade of red, the way his gaze seems a little out of focus when your kiss-bitten lips pull into a smile, and realize whatever it is he was to ask for you would gladly give.

Thankfully, his request is simple enough, in more ways than one.

A petulant tug at the edge of your nightdress, and a gruff, “Off.”

You quirk your eyebrow, teasing, “Is that what you want?”

His chest expands under you with a heavy breath, “I swear by all the Gods, woman…”

“Don’t try to threaten me,” You chastise, one last peck against his lips before you lean back to take off your dress. “It never works.”

His eyes rake over you, painstakingly slow and burning you in the hunger that shines in them, a reverent edge to the way he licks his lips as he takes in your naked body that makes you feel as if this were the first time.

You take a step closer, and when Ivar’s eyes return to you, he tilts his head to the side, “Doesn’t it?”

You roll your eyes, “Arrogance isn’t a good look on you.”

“That wasn’t what you said wh-…ah.” His words die in a soft sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan when you slide one hand between his legs, cupping his hardening cock and drinking in the sight before you.

You don’t think there will ever come a day you don’t treasure this, the way he gasps, the way his eyes flutter shut, the way he tilts his head back and bares his throat to you.

Pressing your body against his, you move your hand to reach for him under the pants he wears, grasping at him just in between softly and roughly, and kiss a trail along his jawline as you move your hand up and down over his cock, passing the pad of your thumb over the tip.

A call of your name, breathy, beseeching, and all thought other than having him leaves your mind.

You make quick work of the laces of his pants, and slide them off his legs until there is nothing in between the two of you, until the warmth of his skin seeps into yours and makes the already flaming embers flicker and rage into heat that pools low in your belly and clouds your thoughts.

Straddling him, you kiss him as his hands bring you flush against him, unintentionally torturous drag of his hard cock against your center making you tremble.

Ivar surges against you, one hand splayed at your back to bring you as close as he can, chest pressed against yours and mouth hungry over the skin of your neck. Your hands grasp where they can at fever-warm skin, but before you can lost much more of your mind, your hand presses lightly at the base of his throat and forces him once again on his back.

There’s a growing smile on Ivar’s lips that speaks of hunger, a hunger you feel snarling and desperate inside of you as well, a hunger that pools low on your belly, that makes you bite your lip as you take him in.

There’s a moment, a breath or two, a pause that tortures you as much as him, where you just admire the way his body looks, naked in the low and warm light of your home.

Unable to wait any longer, you straddle him once again, a pang of heat running through you when he dutifully stays on his back, looking up at you with hunger and desire clearly written in his darkened gaze.

Holding yourself above him and grasping his cock with the hand not on his chest, you line him up with your entrance, but not before betraying a smile and pressing,

“What is it you want, Ivar?”

This time it is a surrender, it is a plea, it is a gasp, “You.”

____

It is known men sleep with other women when they are away from their wives, you know this. It is known they sometimes bring women bearing their child back to their homes, a bizarre war prize. Though the most likely outcome is that the two part ways, and the men return to their homes and their wives; and the women they chose to keep their bed warms during the raiding season move on, marry another, one that is free enough to call them their home.

You know this, and as you absently pick at a piece of bread, watching as Ivar works expertly through the process of securing the iron braces around his legs; you cannot help but remind yourself you also know many new things.

You know the cold makes his pain worse, you know he is very good with a bow and arrow, you know a flickering and soft smile can always be found on his lips when you tell him you want him, you know he has days when he irrationally tries to keep his legs a secret from you. You know him, and…that has to mean something, doesn’t it?

You are distracted from your thoughts by movement, and you watch silently the by now familiar wobble of Ivar’s crutch as he stands up, quivering under his weight until he easily finds his balance.

Straightening in his place, he extends a hand to beckon you closer.

“My love, come here,” He orders, and by the way the term of endearment you’ve stolen -taken, borrowed, but always hers- rolls of his tongue alone you have your feet helplessly trailing the distance between you. Ivar’s free hand grasps at the side of your face with more gentleness than you would have expected out of him when you first met him, and he tilts your head up to capture your mouth in his. He kisses you slowly, sweetly, reverently, and your heart breaks further with each breath you share. When you part, his brow rests against yours, and though you can feel his piercing blue gaze on you, you keep your eyes closed, “We will be returning soon, you know that.”

“I know.”

“You will be returning to Kattegat with me.” He tells you, and your body stills at his words, a furrow between your brows that Ivar reaches up to smooth with the caress of a rough thumb as if he hadn’t just said the words he did, as if things were normal.

“No, I…I have responsibilities here, I-…”

“I want you to come with me,” He insists, and any softer tone you may have fooled yourself into thinking you heard is lost when he meets your gaze with his piercing blue eyes and promises lowly, “I am not asking.”

“You never ask.”

He isn’t swayed or insulted, offering only a smile that tugs at your heart.

“Yet you still love me.”

It is an arrogant boast, nothing more than that, and it serves as a reminder for you of the mess you’ve gotten yourself into, it serves as a warning of all the ways this could end in disaster.

During the winter you spent apart, him in Kattegat with his wife and you still here in York with your duties, you told yourself you would forget about him, and life would return to the way it was before he came into it. Yet it didn’t, and somehow it didn’t for him either, because when the warriors from Kattegat returned to continue raiding into England, Ivar found you again, and…life did return to the way it was, the way it was before he ever left.

And now he will leave again, and you have made peace with it. You have made peace with him leaving you once again for the winter, and you have made peace with you not being there to be found when spring comes.

You shake your head, and insist quietly, “You are a married man.”

“I was a married man when we met, and that didn’t stop you,” He retorts, a quirk of his mouth, “I was a married man this morning.”

You look away with a sigh, “Ivar…”

His hand on the side of your face brings your eyes back to him, but you don’t find softness looking back, you don’t find the jarring warmth of eyes the color of winter; you find the probing gaze of a man looking for the answer to a question he hasn’t yet asked, you find something that looks a lot like distrust.

“What reasons do you have to stay here, hm?”

“The same you have to leave. Your life is in Kattegat, as much as mine is in York,” The words leave your lips as the hope leaves your heart. You have known, you have accepted it, but to say it is something else entirely. If you had met before, if you had met in another life, then maybe…but not this time. Searching his gaze, you sentence, “It is Fate we part ways.”

“Why is it Fate? Because you say so, hm?”

“Because you have my heart,” You sentence, trying not to show weakness at the flicker of emotion that crosses his features. “But yours belongs to someone else.”

Ivar’s eyes fall closed, and he shakes his head.

“No, no,” The barest hint of a smile, “It is yours. It was Fate that I found you,” He insists, hand trapping yours, making you pliant under his touch with the warmth of his skin and the openness in his gaze. “I believe…I believe the Gods sent you to me. If anything, finding you proves that it was true what I was told, about the Gods rewarding those who endure pain.”

And not even the warmth of his skin could stave off the cold that creeps over you when you hear the familiar words.

“And who told you that, Ivar?” You ask, a sad smile on your lips because he knows you know the answer.

“Did you believe her?”

Ivar’s shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, and you lift your eyes from their lazy exploration of the traces of ink on his bare chest to meet his eyes.

“Freydis does. To this day, she still claims there is a reason for pain, hers and mine.”

That isn’t an answer.

“Did you believe her, Ivar?”

“Of course I believed her. I wanted to believe her, I wanted-…” A sigh, and he stops himself. Eyes searching yours, Ivar’s features tighten momentarily, as if trying to not give away something in his expression. “I want it to be true.”

“Why?” You ask, just as quietly.

“So there’s a reason for all of it. Any of it.”

“There is always a reason, Ivar,” You tell him, leaning up on one elbow. He looks up at you, silent. “It just might not be the reason you want it to be.”

“What do you think the reason is, hm?” He prods, the backs of his fingers trailing up and down your arm.

You shake your head, “You won’t find answers in me.”

“But you believe in something.”

“I believe in Fate. I believe…I believe that just like the Völur weave their spells, just as Freyja weaves her secrets, the Norns weave our Fates, our lives.”

“Without reason?”

“Without any reason we can understand.” You correct him, a small smile curving your lips at his insistence.

You bring her up and the reminder that across a sea she exists, she waits, she claims; and it is enough for the warmth to leave you completely, to drain from your skin like the last drop of blood after a deep wound.

You grit your teeth and lower your head, trying to hide weakness that has been there from the first day when you sat before the King of Kattegat as he watched you methodically work on mending the stitching on his armor and smiled stupidly at each clumsy attempt he made at making you laugh.

You turn to the door and open it, but you are quickly stopped.

It is almost a stumble, iron-braced legs not quick enough for how he wants to move, but Ivar reaches the door before you, slamming a strong hand on it and keeping it closed.

You are well used to his temper and his demanding ways, but that doesn’t mean anger doesn’t flare within you now, or that you will simply accept him trying to keep you from moving freely.

“Whatever it is you intend to do, Ivar, I suggest you think twice about it.” You warn slowly, before turning around.

But when you lift your eyes to meet his you don’t find ire, you don’t find rage. You find desperation, you find…fear?

He grits his teeth, breathing sharply through his nose before asking, “Why are you trying to leave?”

He isn’t asking about you leaving the room.

Ironic, you suppose, that he is the one set to leave for Kattegat before the week is over and yet you seem to be the one intent on leaving him behind.

“Spring is over, you ought to return to your home.”

“And you will come with me.” He replies automatically, ever so petulant, arrogant.

“No, my home is here.”

“Your home is with me. You will be coming with me to Kattegat.” He insists, more agitated, yet more fragile in his certainty.

“Is forcing me to be by your side what you want?”

“I want you,” He snarls, leaning even closer. So similar to the words he would speak last night and so many nights before, yet the meaning is so different. Or maybe it is the same, and you just haven’t been listening. Ivar presses his lips together, taking an angry breath before offering, “I don’t want to lose you.”

I am not yours to lose, you want to argue, but it tastes like a lie before your lips even form the words.

There is nothing to lose, you almost try, but the mere thought of it breaks at what is left of your heart on your chest.

“You won’t.” You promise instead, dooming you both. Or maybe you are just dooming yourself.

Ivar leans closer, but you notice him swallow thickly, you notice the way he lowers his guard a bit, no longer so much so on the offense.

“Come with me.” He says, asks, beseechs.

With your eyes searching his, you cannot help but think of the waters you see in your dreams, you cannot help but remember the question you were once -many times, or maybe never- asked.

You cannot help but think of your answer, and realize maybe this is what you are granted, maybe this is the gift you are offered at your answer.

____

Settling in Kattegat proves equally difficult and easy.

It is easy for you to keep yourself occupied; the dawning of winter means people are in search of warmer clothing that now that the men are back from raiding they can afford to purchase, so your days are easily -comfortably, familiarly- busied with sewing and weaving.

It is difficult however, for you to forget what brought you here, what foolish and reckless desires -your own and Ivar’s- have left you here in Kattegat. And it is still easy, to let him consume your nights, to let him take the space he demands in your life; it is still easy, and that is the difficult part.

Ivar is many things, but he isn’t subtle. He wasn’t subtle about keeping you close in York, he wasn’t subtle about how everyone ought to treat you on the journey to his home, and he hasn’t been subtle about where he spends his nights.

And you cannot help but feel strange, intruding, invasive. Stupid, really, that you feel guilt when the man that is married to her doesn’t seem to, but you cannot help it.

You haven’t met her, and there is really no reason why you should, but you have seen her. By all the Gods, she is beautiful, and carries herself in a way you have scarcely seen.

You see her in scarce moments, pass her by on a feast or meet her tranquil gaze across a room. Sometimes you see her with Ivar, a barely-there moment that you feel an intruder for witnessing, her hands carefully folded over her stomach, her a back stiffly held straight, her expression coldly controlled. Sometimes you see her with thralls and young girls around her, and you pretend not to notice the way she sometimes shies away from their touches.

You see her, not long enough to be able to claim to truly know her, but long enough to no longer be able to pretend she doesn’t exist.

Almost a month goes by as you live in this strange in between, as you settle into life in Kattegat as if you were still in York, pretending winter is nothing but another spring.

Tonight, as you sit across from Hvitserk as he animatedly talks about what his travels to the Mediterranean were like, Ivar at your side with a hand -heavy, comforting, possessive- on your leg; you find your gaze finding the Queen where she sits alone, across the room.

She has this way about her, this jarring contradiction between meek and steadfast. She lowers her eyes, she keeps her gaze pointed at the ground quite often, but she has this manner of looking up and meeting people’s eyes that has nothing to do with passivity.

She smiles often, a sweet smile just on the edge of being too wide, but there’s this shine in her eyes when she smiles when people are looking that reminds you of the easily-cracked seashells you could put to your ear against and hear the mournful cry of the sea from.

“What are you so distracted by, hm?” Ivar asks, pulling you away from your thoughts with the sound of his voice alone. You turn to him, offer a smile and a shake of your head.

“Nothing,” You reply, but your focus still lingers on her. This isn’t your place, she should be sitting where you are, or maybe he should be there sitting by her side. You shouldn’t be here, and the realization of it dawns on you like a weight dropped on your chest. You feel sick, and you don’t think there’s any hiding it. “I…I think I’ll retire for the night.”

As you stand up, a hand running down his arm in what you hope is a gesture soothing enough to keep him from asking questions, you steal another glance her way.

She isn’t there anymore.

____

That night, as too-many nights before it, as you settle for bed Ivar appears at your door, comfortably taking room in your space with a familiarity, an ease, that feels wrong even if it fills you with warmth.

You sit before the small mirror in your room, your back turned to the bed where Ivar sits, your eyes focused on the task of brushing your hair.

“What is the matter with you, hm?” He asks. You keep your gaze on the mirror, working on detangling your hair where it is thrown over your shoulder.

Slowly, you start, “You aren’t…subtle.”

He doesn’t need you to be any clearer about what you mean, understanding your meaning immediately, and you are almost grateful for that.

“Why should I be?” He retorts, almost affronted. “You are my woman, I don’t need to-…”

“You have a wife.” You enunciate slowly, eyes wide as they meet his over the reflection in the mirror. Your hands, by force of habit alone, are working on parting your hair in three different portions to ready the braid you are used to wearing to sleep.

Ivar’s mouth curves downwards in a nonchalant gesture, a furrow between his brows.

“Do you think Freydis didn’t know how I spent my time in England? Do you think she doesn’t know about you?”

You still your hands for a moment, before you continue the path of the braid down.

“That only makes it worse.”

“We aren’t…we aren’t as we used to be. Freydis and me.”

You offer a look over your shoulder, and a clipped, “Surely you bringing another woman to her home has nothing to do with it.”

A fake smile at your response that only speaks of annoyance, and Ivar explains,

“It has been this way before I met you, and you know that.”

Hushed conversations by the lapping shores of the river port of Yorktown of how after the loss of the second child grief was made into weapons on both ends, and her words of how it was his seed what had cursed their children to die on the womb was still a thought that haunted him. The rumors that walked with you through the streets of the big city of how Ivar the Boneless had chosen another woman to keep by his side and yet still was only able to remain loyal to one, rumors that you understood much later when you were told Kattegat’s king and queen slept on separate beds.

You grit your teeth, tying the end of the braid tightly, and ask the question you haven’t dared for too long already.

“Why doesn’t she divorce you? Or you her?”

It is idle curiosity, you have never had the intention -the imagination even- to think Ivar would divorce his wife, but after all he has told you it is a question that has ran through your head often, and now that you have been a witness to how they interact, to at least part of it -his nights are spent with you, and that alone is enough to make you question what is the point of any of it- the questions grow louder.

“People would talk,” He replies as if the answer should be apparent, as if that is reason enough, explanation enough. To him, you realize, it is. “They talk enough already, even if I were to be the one to end it, they would-…the rumors would grow louder, people would talk about how she left me.”

“They would be wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter,” He sentences, “I won’t fail, I won’t lose.”

“Fail?”

“The cripple can’t satisfy his wife, can’t father a child, can’t…can’t be a normal man, so she leaves him.”

Your heart feels strange in your chest, as if it is being squeezed tight.

“Ivar…”

He grits his teeth, looks up at you past stubbornly furrowed brows, “You know that is what they would say, I can’t…I can’t let them say that.”

“It wouldn’t be true.”

His eyes fall from yours, “It doesn’t matter.”

He refuses to talk much more about any of it, and if you are honest you are almost grateful for his stubbornness, because you don’t want to discuss anything else any further.

It is with painful ease that you two settle in bed together for sleep, your head on his chest and his fingers absently tracing the dips and curves of the braid you wear.

Sometime in the middle of the night you wake up to a darkened room and a low call of your name in a voice you know well by now, even if you hate to hear it when you are peacefully sleeping and he insists on disturbing that.

Ivar’s fingers are running idly over the side of your face, tracing the contour of your cheek. You reluctantly open your eyes.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” You mumble, irrationally annoyed. Your brow furrows, and eyes narrowed, you lift your head, “Better yet, why are you punishing me for your inability to sleep?”

His fingers trail down from your face to the base of the braid on the side of your neck, and ignoring your question he prompts, “Do you regret it?”

Biting back an argument about how this is very much not the time to continue this conversation, you ask, “Regret what, Ivar?”

“Coming here. With me.”

Your annoyance fades away like smoke between your fingers, and you sigh.

“No.”

More easily than you would like to admit Ivar maneuvers you until you are on your back underneath him, looking down at you with a small smile.

“Good.” He sentences. You lift your eyebrows.

“Good?”

He hums an affirmation, leaning closer and stealing a kiss from your lips.

“You are mine,” He reminds you, eyes piercing on yours. Before you get too lost on the way the flames flicker in the blue of his eyes, Ivar leans once again to kiss you, slowly but with an edge you can’t help but notice. When you part, he licks his lips, before admitting, “And I am yours.”

“And hers.”

A smile, a slow blink of his eyes, and he ignores your words.

“I didn’t bring you here to keep you a concubine, and when spring comes I will leave but you will still be here.”

You frown, “What are you saying?”

“I intend to make you my wife.” He states, jarringly certain, unmovable. Your eyes widen, and in the back of your mind you think your breath leaves you in a gasp.

“N-No, you can’t-…”

His eyes search yours, trying to find the answer to a question he hasn’t yet asked. It is still enough to silence your words before they even leave your lips.

Voice quiet, he asks, orders, pleas, “Marry me.”

____ ____ ____

“Whether you love what you love, or live in divided ceasless revolt against it, what you love is your fate.” (F.B)

A/N: I certainly didn’t plan for the first chapter to open with smuttish themes, but I need the practice writing it and I suppose it works well for establishing the relationship between these two. Idk. Hope this was alright, thank you for reading!

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#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #those who weave masterlist

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