#alex hogh andersen au

[nukyster-blog]

#Back at writing Ivar the boneless fanfiction Ivar the boneless: oh by the gods no, not again...

[istorkyou]

A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU) New Chapter

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Note - I think it’s been almost a year since I updated this fic. I’ve decided to post the rest of the fic, despite not being super happy with chapter 11. I wrote the rest of the chapters ages ago but got stuck on chapter 11 so I’ve decided to just Chuck it out here.

Sorry it’s taken me so long, hope those who enjoyed this story before will enjoy the end ❤️ thanks all. This chapter is un-beta’d so all mistakes are mine and I’m sure there will be lots!

Warnings - mentions of violence make against female and female against make, language, weapons, angst

Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?

Word Count - 3828 words

This is for @blackseapearl 400 follower trope challenge. I asked for Amnesia :)

Shout Outs - They know ❤️

This fic kicked (and is still kicking!) my ass, I’ve never had such a hard time with motivation as I have writing this long-ass bitch so I hope you enjoy it :)

It’s also LOOOOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG..... and I’m only the tiniest bit sorry about that!

Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls​​ @youbloodymadgenius​​ @momowhoo​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer​ @pieces-by-me​ @heavenly1927​​ @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint​​ @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy​ @petite-hime​​ @serasvictoria​​ @mimiiinspace​​ @itsmysticalmystery​​ @lonewolf471​​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​​ @draculasbride-blog​​ @love-all-things-writing​​ @southernbe​​ @redhead7799​​ @kaybee87​​ @ivarlover​​ @ivarhoegh​​ @idgafiamallthefandoms​​ @darkphoenix5037​​ @profoundtyrantharmony​​ @snarling-through-our-smiles​​ @crazyunsexycool​​ @xceafh​​ @noway4u @batmandallyboy​​ @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73​​​​ @meandmycherrytree

Masterpost

Chapter 11

The early days of Ivar and Liet.

Lev insists on an apartment first, keeping some distance and to set up a place he can still see her in. She assumed Ivar would be annoyed but he says it’s a good first step, she doesn’t know for certain but she guesses that The Lothbroks don’t want a stranger in their midst, she will have to be vetted before being allowed into their inner sanctum.

She stays in the apartment for a few months, building a life, in her “new city”, a routine with Ivar visiting. Lev turns up more often than she wants, an invasive reminder that it's all lies and any potential peace found with Ivar is bullshit.

Lev never gets ugly with her again, but her memory is long and she never forgets the violence he exhibited, quashing all feelings she ever had for him.

She was supposed to lead a double life, reporting to her family, faking the relationship with Ivar, in reality, it’s a triple life now, faking to Lev, faking to Ivar despite her feelings of real love for him and reporting back despite her feelings. God, what an absolute mess she’s made. Etta has no choice but to carry on as normal with Lev when she sees him, fucking him as if he’s her guy when her whole being is consumed by her feelings for Ivar.

The ripping of her soul, the lies, the deceit, the acting, almost sends her into an early grave, until Ivar asks her to move onto the estate.

———————-

Word comes from Ivar’s Father. The Lothbrok family have accepted her. Ragnar has dug into her past thoroughly.

———————

Her Father knew this would happen and hired the right people to fabricate her former life, leaving as much of her true life as possible. Dead parents, teacher (at a different school, one where Olegs family had reach with, who he was able to pay off if asked about Julietta). The Lothbroks came back with nothing but a squeaky clean record of her. Nothing about her time spent with her father, nothing about her training or the other ‘missions’ she’d been sent on. Just a wholesome school teacher with friends and a tragic past.

—————

She can see a respite, a pause of her turmoil if she is away from Lev, away from the pressure he is putting on her, the pressure her father is putting on her through Lev. She can breathe easily once she gets there. For a minute.

She knows any peace is temporary.

The day before she is due to move, Lev catches her outside her apartment as she is running errands.

She feels him behind her, an insistent grip on her arm.

“Keep walking, Love. Who knows if we are being followed. Walk to the market.”

Julietta has no choice but to do as he says.

In the market he catches her arm harshly and turns her toward a stand.

“Try on the sunglasses,” he instructs her harshly, so she does. She catches his eye in a mirror, he is standing close to her. “Tomorrow we will be separated, God knows for how long. You know what needs to be done, Etta?”

She nods and picks another pair of glasses up, slipping them on her face.

“I’ve watched you with him, in this very market,” Lev’s voice is saccharine sweet, she’s heard it before and the blood runs cold through her veins. The intrusion into the relationship she thought she’d developed in private was being watched. Of course it was. Stupid girl.

“I’ve seen him kiss you, I’ve seen the way you look at him, Etta.” Etta watches as his pupils constrict in the mirror as his grip tightens on her flesh, sure to leave marks she will have to explain away.

Etta starts to shake her head and pulls away carefully, smiling playfully as she starts to protest but his words stop her.

“My eyes don’t lie. I’ve seen you. Do you not remember my words? If you fall for him I will kill you both. You are mine,” his finger back on her arm, holding so hard she has to bite her lip to stop from yelping. “Mine,” he growls in her ear. “I hope for both your sakes you are a better actress than I give you credit for, Etta.”

Lev leans into her, his nose in her hair and he inhales deeply, eyes never leaving her face for a second. “I would hate to murder you, my love.”

Through the ice in her veins she knows what she must do. A calmness settles over her, knowing her only way out of this encounter is to placate the man she once loved.

She removes the sunglasses and her eyes catch his in the mirror. She leans back into Lev, her upper back pressing against his chest and she pushes her ass into his crotch. Her voice is thick with sweetness when she addresses him. “Baby, I’m the best actress you’ve ever met. You think I have feelings for him? I’m repulsed by him. Every time he touches me it makes me want to vomit. I would kill him and his whole fucking family in a heartbeat to be back with you, my love.”

She sees Lev’s eyes change from hatred to relief and she knows he is putty in her hands again.

“I’m doing this for the family. For you. Just as you told me to. It’s all for you, a means to an end, my love. I’m leaving tomorrow, who knows when I will next get to see you. There's an alley up to the left. Meet me there in two minutes. I need you one more time before I go.” She turns in her heels and heads for the alley.

As she turns left she claps her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle to cry and tears in the minutes she has before he joins her. She takes in some steadying breathes and prepares herself to allow Lev to touch her, fuck her, to betray Ivar with the man that sold her out like she was nothing. A mere commodity.

As she watches Lev enter the alley her skin starts to crawl, but she pushes the feeling away.

She’s let her guard slip with Ivar, she needs to pull herself back again, with more success this time. She curses inwardly at not realising she is being watched the whole time, of course she is, she’s her family's most valuable asset.

She can’t be the reason Ivar dies. She will be the best actress ever. To save herself. To save Ivar.

—————

Julietta is sure that Ivar feels the change in her, in the way she is with him over the next few weeks. Sometimes she can see her detachment break his heart and she wants nothing more than to open herself up again, allow him into her heart fully, but the memory of Lev’s words stops her.

Sometimes she feels herself allowing the feelings to creep back in. It’s easy when it’s just the two of them, living together, a normal life. Somedays, when she’s watching him move around their home, on the phone, smiling at her, she forgets what this all is. Fake. An assignment. Not for long, but long enough for it to crush her heart when she remembers.

Some days she is so angry. Furious at herself for letting her life come to this. Rage filled at her father for making her do this. Devastated at the circumstances that have led her life to this point. Angry that she is in love with a man completely out of her reach, despite being married to him. It’s on these days can hear herself say the most disgusting things, things about his wheelchair, his disability that make her so ashamed of herself she knows that when her time comes they will be the reason she will be dragged straight to the depths of Hell.

He shows her nothing but endless patience. She isn’t sure if that is because he is so in love with her or because she drops enough breadcrumbs of love and affection to keep him hopeful that she will return to the woman he met in Sardinia. Hope. It can hold people prisoner, and that’s what she feels she is doing to him. Keeping him shackled to a memory of the woman she wishes she could be with him, her old self.

Julietta can’t even bare to look at him when they have sex, can’t bare the way his eyes feel on her, like they are going to pull a confession out of her at any moment so she manipulates him again into being intimate in a way she can stomach, a way she can live with herself.

She manages to find an outlet in the form of a diary, written in code. She pours every thought, every feeling, every second of happiness into it so she doesn’t allow it to spill out into their actual lives. So she doesn’t compromise them. If she writes it down the weight of her feelings and the fear that accompany them is lifted slightly.

She’s allowed to the main house after the checks come back clean, before that she had barely any access to it at all which meant she didn’t have much to pass on to Lev when she saw him at the flat. Information is freely available to her now, access to staff, their gossiping, access to Ragnar’s study, although she is careful here until she is sure there are no cameras inside this space. There aren’t, probably so he doesn’t incriminate himself should the time ever come. It does mean she can access paperwork left around, listen in on conversations he has in there. She has yet to plant the listening devices given to her and try to access Ragnar's computer, making up excuses to Lev when pushed on the subject, only handing over as little as she can get away with.

She despises herself every time she does it, hearing the consequences of her actions spoken about by the Lothbroks, people killed, families ripped apart, collateral damage.

She tries to redress the balance of her disgusting deceit as often as she can. Julietta knows one of her strengths is the ability to read people as if they are telling her their secrets openly. Body language, the slightest flick of an eye, the quick exchange of notes between Ragnar's staff is stored in her head. Most of it is innocent, the occasional affair between staffers, a few people stealing from the kitchens, but any hint of something that could hurt any of the family she tells Ivar about, discreetly, so as not to give herself away, hints at things she’s noticed. Ivar is astute enough to read into it the droplets of information she gives him and neutralises the threat.

He can’t see I’m his biggest threat Julietta thinks sadly.

Over time Julietta becomes more involved with all the family members and she starts to enjoy their company, they treat her like one of their own, not knowing she is a snake in the nest. It’s hard enough betraying Ivar without the extra guilt so she stays detached, warm enough that she isn’t alienated but she keeps them at arm's length. For her own sanity.

After months of being on the estate with her love her brains tricks her into thinking she has some solace from her real life. She stops passing along as much information as she can get away with, only given intel she knows will have minimal impact on her husband and his family. She makes excuses to not have to meet up with Lev, passing along the information via a notebook hidden in her flat, deliberately ignoring Lev's outrage at her evasion, which is clear from the messages left in the hiding spot in her apartment.

She continues this way until a clear message is received. One of the Lothbrok security guards is found outside the estate with the letter E carved into his forehead; she knows she has to face her life outside the walls. For Lev to get so close to the estate, to risk the whole assignment to get her attention she knows she has no choice but to meet up with him.

The thought fills her with a paralysing fear, she can’t do this anymore. The double life has to stop and Julietta knows which of her two lives she wants.

Julietta goes to her apartment, calls Lev from the phone stashed in the space in the walls and arranges to meet him at the gym. She changes into her workout clothes and heads there with a racing heart. She went to the toilets at the back of the gym, where Lev has made sure that no security cameras reach.

He’s waiting for her and pins her to the wall before they mutter a world to each other. He pulls her shorts down roughly and his fingers are inside her before she knows what’s happening.

“Lev, no, we need to talk. Stop,” she tells him in Russian, grabbing his wrist to push him out of her, pulling up her shorts.

“Etta, what’s wrong? I’ve missed you. Do they know? Is that why I haven’t heard from you?” His mouth is all over her, her neck, her chest, making her skin crawl.

When he starts to kiss her mouth she twists her head away, and her head falls against the wall. It’s now or never.

“I'm not doing this anymore. I’m done. I'm going to be a proper wife to him. I love him, Lev. We are finished here.”

Lev's face pulls into a scowl before he bursts out laughing. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t love him. You are mine!” He grabs her face, bruising it with his fingers. “You can’t just stop, you will never be done!” His face is searching hers, trying to find a hint of a joke.

She smacks his hand away “Don't ever touch me again, Lev. I am done with all of you. I never wanted any of this. My father won’t kill me for falling in love. Ivar, he’s not like any of you, not with me, he's gentle and he loves me.” Etta’s chin is raised in defiance.

“I fucking love you!” Lev replies with desperation in his tone. “I’ve loved you for years. You can’t be in love with him, he’s the fucking enemy, Etta.”

“Is he?” she shouts at him. “I’m starting to think we are. Father is only doing this for territory, not for revenge or anything noble!”

“Etta, my love. You are smarter than this…” Lev’s tone is one she recognises. A calm, friendly tone which is uses at his most dangerous. “Think about this my love. Come to your senses and I won’t tell anyone what you’ve said today. I love you.”

“Oh Lev, you’ve always been about your career, Fucking the bosses daughter was a strategic move for you. I know you would never choose me over the family.”

“You think Ivar would?” Lev screams and punches the wall next to Etta’s head. “You stupid fucking bitch. You are fucking dead. What did I tell you before? Do you remember? If you fell in love with him I would kill you both.” His hand is back on her jaw, pressing her skull against the hard wall behind her. “Etta. Tell me he hasn’t tasted you.” Levs face screws into pure hatred.

“I remember. I don’t care. I only care about him.” Her breaths are shallow with fear now. She’s weighed up all her options in the small space they are in. She knows all of Lev's moves and if she’s quick enough she can get the better of him. Hopefully.

“My rule, Etta,” Lev says through gritted teeth. “Did you let him taste you?” His eyes flit to her mouth.“You treacherous fucking whore!” He grabs her around the throat and she reaches into the underside of her sports bra pulling out her mini switchblade, flicking it open expertly and pushes it into his groin.

“Femoral artery, Lev. You taught me that. Let go of me or I’ll do it. You’ll bleed out in a minute or so. I’m a good actress, remember? I’ll say you attacked me and I will be believed. Never dare to call me a whore again.” She pushes the tip of her knife into his skin.

He glances down and removes his hands from her throat. “Dead woman. You are fucking dead, Etta” He points in her face and slams the restroom door open so hard it closes again she locks it quickly, clapping her hand over her mouth, hyperventilating in fear. She spends a few minutes calming down and listening for any sign of him. Silence remains and she is sure she is safe enough to leave the gym.

When she steps outside she hears screams from her right and as she spins towards the noise she sees Lev driving straight at her before everything goes black.

——————————————-

Present day

Consciousness tugs at her as does Ivar’s voice, which is getting louder with every syllable. Julietta wakes on the floor of their closet, Ivar cradling her head. “Liet? Baby, thank god! Are you okay?”

Was it all a dream? A nightmare? She knows it isn’t.

Her whole life is back.

Julietta remembers everything and she starts to sob.

“Julietta, what is it? More memories?”

Gods knows she can’t let on that she remembers everything. Even in her vulnerable state she knows for certain she needs time to sort through everything. As much as she wants to pour the truth out to him she values breathing. She hasn’t taken all the risks she has for this man to have him kill her in their beautiful home.

She shifts so she is sitting up, pushing away the nausea and reaches for the pendant laying between them. “The necklace, I remember the first time I put it on you. Ivar, I need to lie down. My head,” she whines, clutching her temples. “My head is splitting.”

She manages to walk to the bed on her wobbly legs, with his help and climbs under the covers and curls up into a ball. The bed dips and she feels him behind her, pressing himself close to her, running his hand up over her arm.

“Do you need anything, love? I will call a doctor.”

“No don’t, I’m ok. I think it’s just going to feel like this when I get memories, they said that after the market. Can you get me some water?”

Ivar nods against her skin. “I will love, I’m going to set an appointment tomorrow to go back to the hospital for tests. Just to be sure.”

As she hears him start to leave she turns to him quickly, knowing she needs to address something. “Ivar? I really don’t have any memory of that man from the Gala.”

Ivar’s jaw ticks and he nods stiffly at her then leaves.

Her own lip curls in disgust when she thinks of Lev. He will be dealt with sooner or later.

She stare up at the ceiling before getting the strength to walk to the bathroom to take a look at herself in the mirror. She looks different now she remembers who she is. Harder, she doesn’t like it.

“Hello, Etta.” She says to her reflection.

She runs her eyes over her reflection, the scar on her cheek, pulling down her top to look at the scars over her arm. Her gaze travels back to her short hair and she sneers slightly then remembers Ivar’s reaction to it and smiles.

“You are not Etta anymore,” she says softly, pointing at herself in the mirror. “You are Liet, his Liet. Bury the old you, do you hear me?” Her reflection nods and she starts to formulate a way forward.

A path to happiness.

————-

She doesn’t know how she manages to keep it together in the days and weeks after her life returns but she does. She compartmentalises her life as Etta until Ivar leaves every morning, as soon as the front door shuts she runs to the shower and tears pour from her. Grief for her parents, they way they were taken from her, the sheer scale of who she was before crushing her like a bug under a wheel.

Broken, bent, torn apart by the old her.

She prays to the Gods to make her Liet again, to remove everything she knows now but it’s just an act of futility. She has to find a way to live with the knowledge that she betrayed her Ivar, to continue to function as his wife with the terror that he and his family will find out about her.

The thought of fleeing crosses her mind, for him as much as for her. Gods know what Ragnar would do to Ivar if he finds out. If she leaves him, just disappears, she could protect him from that, but she knows she’s too selfish, and where would she go? Back to Lev?

Back to the man who did this to her?

“Liet, you have to talk to me. I feel you pulling away from me. I know something has changed. You are not… you are the same… you are turning into the you from before the accident and I need you to be happy again. Baby, please talk to me.”

Julietta can’t meet his eyes, but she forces herself to as she lies to his beautiful face. “I keep seeing flashes, I don’t like what I see, Ivar. Snippets of the way I was, and hate it. I was a totally different person, I didn’t know how to let myself be loved but I don't know why.” She knows why, but she needs to give him something. She used to be able to deceive at the blink of an eye, she’s lost that ability and part of her is grateful, but a bigger part of her wishes she could bullshit with ease to his face.

“Gods,” she thinks, “I should just fucking end it all now and spare him the pain of knowing who I really was.”

“Liet. I chose you then, and I will choose you in every lifetime I live. Always, baby. I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, I’ve loved you through the bad, the terrifying and the amazing. You don’t remember it all but I do, and it’s you. It’s always you. Always.

—————————

She exists. Weeks are passing slowly and she is slowly learning how to be Liet, pushing Etta away. It’s easing, the guilt. The fear of being found out is something she just pushes away with a stern talking to in the mirror. She’s determined to be who she wants to be, not who she was.

Chapter 12

[underscorewriting]

Fate | Part One

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: none just teeth rotting fluff

1354 Words

Part two | Part Three | Part four | Part five

Growing up with Helga and Floki wasn't always the easiest thing. Building ships was fun, having Floki as a father sometimes as well. Being Helgas daughter meant to be loved by a person that would do anything for you. She took care of her, fed her, spent time with her and even made her father spend more time with her. Thanks to Helga, she and her father grew a bond, even after her sister left too early. 

But being their daughter also meant she had to be friends with the youngest prince growing up. He wasn't easy to be around, but she managed. On the bad days it would end with her almost getting killed by him, but on the good days she enjoyed his company more than any other. They shared a special bond, both telling one another how much they hated each other, while still looking out for one another. 

As they grew so did what they felt, the hatred turning into some passion that neither of them understood. Both of them misunderstanding it as hatred. Hatred was a silly thing, a childish thing, same as holding grudges. Aslaug would often invite Helga to feast with them. Helga would often bring her daughter with her. Ivar would stare at her and make her feel that feeling even more intense.

"I don't like feeling this way..." The girl mumbled while sanding down the wood as she told her father about how the youngest Ragnarsson made her feel. "I just hate him so much, father." Her father looked at her with raised eyebrows, turning away to continue carving into it, chuckling. "I'm afraid, what you're feeling, my dear child, is not hatred." A small knowing smirk on his face as he shook his head. 

Shaking her head as well, she stopped in her track. "I don't think I understand..." Floki laughed before sending her a playful look. "Go help your mother, she wanted to go to the market in Kattegat." With a sigh she got up, placing a hand on her fathers shoulder, him giving it a soft squeeze before returning to his work. "I'll bring you some paint to color the ship, once it's done." Floki nodded only giving her half of his attention, making her smile. 

She wondered what her father meant. What else would the feeling be if not hate? Longing? Shaking her head at her own thoughts she scrunched up her nose. No, never. She wouldn't long for him. "What troubles you, my dear?" Helga said, noticing how quiet she was on the whole way. The girl being the daughter of Floki and talking just about as much as her father, it worried her. "It's nothing you need to worry about, mother." She gave her a small smile looking at the many different flowers growing on the path. 

A smile was on Helgas face as she watched her. "Go, child. You needn't help me, I'll meet you on the path as the night sets, so we can walk back home, before it gets too dark." Smiling the girl nodded, promising her mother that she would help her carry everything later on. Following the flowery path into the woods, she barely managed a thought. Her mind spinning around what her father meant. Hearing twigs snap behind her she stopped walking, listening close. Feeling someone come closer she turned around. 

The youngest prince following her, crawling on the floor. "Ivar, why are you following me, if you don't mind me asking?" The boy looked up at her, squinting his eyes at the sun. "Prince Ivar to you and I wasn't following you, I was simply walking this path myself." She rolled her eyes before she continued walking, the feeling now leaving as he crawled besides her. "I don't think I like you." Ivar mumbled quietly, more to himself than to her.  A quiet chuckle escaped her as she shook her head.

"What are you laughing about?" He looked up to her. "Nothing, my prince." She grinned slightly before taking a turn left walking into a meadow deep in the woods, sitting down. The boy still following her, sitting down besides her. Picking some of the flowers, she didn't bother looking at him. "What troubles your mind?" He asked, tilting his hand while watching her. "I don't think I like you.." She said smirking slightly before looking up at him from the flower she held. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. She took her shoes off before she got up, chuckling quietly. "I talked to my father about how I don't like you, I even said I hated you. He only laughed and said that hatred might not be the word for what I felt. I don't think it's the word you mean either. I figured it out, but I wouldn't dare to tell you, you might think I'm insane." She twirled gently, holding her dress up slightly as she started to dance alone through the growing grass. 

He couldn't tear his eyes off of her, as hard as he tried he felt his chest fill with the feeling again. His lips parted slightly as he watched her, a smile on his lips as he heard her chuckles and giggles. All of the sudden he understood everything. He understood his feelings and he understood what she meant. He didn't hate her, not even close and he might not love her, but he longed for what it would be like to have her, what it would be like to belong to her. 

As she stopped, her hair falling into her face and her eyes falling on him, there was the most beautiful scene he ever saw. Tearing his eyes off of her seemed impossible now. "I take it you finally understand...?" Her feet slowly carried her towards him, as if something pulled her into his presence, pulled her to be near him. A small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I believe I do..." His voice low, but filled with the believe that the gods are guiding him in this moment. 

She kneeled down,  facing him. His hand finding her chest, feeling her beating heart. A small smirk now on his face as his eyes searched for hers. Finding them felt like an explosion, felt like everything fit. "You know I won't stop teasing you about every little mistake you make or about how much you take after your father." His voice was barely above a whisper, making her giggle quietly. "I'm proud to be like my father, Ivar, he taught me a lot. I hope you know that I won't stop complaining over how spoiled you are or how many times you tried to kill me while we were kids..." A grin now spread on his face as he moved his hand up to her cheek, softly letting his thumb trace the black paint on her face. 

"You're beautiful, how do I just realize that just now?" She swatted his hand away. "Don't wipe it, my mother spent such a long time on it this morning." He chuckled lightly before smirking, seeing her bite her lip, trying to suppress her smile. "My apologies to Helga then, I didn't mean to ruin her work." A chuckle left her lips before she gasped and jumped up quickly. "I forgot about the paint I promised I would get my father!" Quickly she put her shoes back on before kissing his cheek. "You should visit us tomorrow, I want to show you something, my prince." A grin graced her face as she walked backwards waving at him.

The boy was utterly confused but waved back, chuckling softly. He would need a lot of patience for her, after all she was the daughter of Floki and Helga. His eyes widen as he thought about what just happened and what he just realized. "Oh gods." He mumbled wiping his hands over his face, closing his eyes falling back into the grass. "This is going to be interesting."

His destiny. His fate was the exact resemblance of the most insane man in whole Norway. 

[jesseworld666]

Just some sexy Ivar and Lagertha modern au aesthetic, forbidden love hate. She kills his mother, she's a high ranked woman and he hates her yet the sex is heated passion.

[barnes-lothbrok]

An attempt at @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie hot fic summer challenge!

The prompt is rain and the character of course is Ivar. A Modern Ivar.

When making this I imagined Ivar being persuaded into enjoying the long awaited summer rain by his love.

You would not believe how hard it was finding pictures of Ivar or Alex to do with rain! That man is Winter or Summer nothing in the middle!

Words on pictures -

just as the smell of the earth during a summer rain… oh, how lovely is to love and to be loved in return.

Protection, prosperity, royalty, power, shelter, prestige, femininity and fashion - symbolism of umbrella

[gekyume-qs]

[northernxstories]

Welcome to Northern Stories.

I am Ames the Cookie and this is my indie writing blog.

Links to key pages:

Rules | Writer

Plots:

Plots Page | Random Plots Ideas

I am very open to plotting new things with people. If you like weird Alternate Universes, Historical Verses, Fantasy Worlds and similar then we may suit one another well.

Muses:

I tried to update my muse page and it won’t let me. So I am now opting for categories on a temporary basis until the problem is sorted.

Vikings Muses:

Bjorn (Alexander Ludwig FC)   Ivar (Alex Hogh Andersen FC) Ubbe (Jordan Patrick Smith FC) They are the most common muses on this blog. They are able to transfer from historical to weird AUs to modern verses very well. Also they work well in poly and reverse harem universes. Slutty Old Men: Let’s hear it for the slutty old men! Gus (Tom Hiddleston FC) Gabriel (Diego Luna FC) Sullivan (Wentworth Miller FC) Bash (Tom Hardy FC) Hugo (JR Bourne FC) Chris Argent (canon Teen Wolf muse - JR Bourne FC) Daniel (John Cho FC) Theo (Peter Dinklage FC) Matteo (Alessandro Juliani FC) Felix Gaeta (canon BSG muse - Alessandro Juliani FC)

I love older actors and characters and I would be happy to write with any of my older gents. Limited Edition Muses: These are muses with only a few verses and tend to be played or created for certain other writers and offered primarily for those other writers. I will note if they are claimed or still available below.

Daniel (Daniel Sharman FC) - claimed and currently unavailable Jack (Sebastian Stan FC) - claimed and currently unavailable. Teddy (Jason Ralph FC) - available Johnny (Richard Harmon FC) - available Edward (Kit Harrington FC) - available

Notes:

There is a lot of smutty threads and taboo themes may appear on this blog. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not interact. I like to write sluts, villains and assholes for fun. This is not real and should never be mistaken as such. I do not condone my muses’ actions.

Fair warning that some of my muses are more villainous than others.

Enjoy!

[groovyzombiellama]

The Golden/Stylish Trio

Title: The Golden/Stylish Trio

Requested? Yes.

Plot: You are an actress and shoot a project with Alex and Bill and the two of them have a crush on you.

Word count: 1617

—***—

Ever since you were a child, you knew that you wanted to be an actress, and it didn’t matter how many people told you that you shouldn’t dream so high and that you were gonna fail, that just made you want to work more just to prove them wrong. You were constantly told that you wouldn’t have enough work, and that being an actress is stressful and difficult. Of course you knew that, in their own way every job is difficult, but you didn’t mind it because you knew that you would have difficult moments, but you were ready for whatever that world had to throw at you, because at least  that way, you would be doing something you love. You had the support of your immediate family, like your parents in the first place, and so you decided to take a chance and start your path towards making your dreams come true.

At first you had it quite difficult, not really being what the casting agent was looking for, both in terms of character and in your lack of experience. You had sleepless nights thinking about how you were supposed to gather experience when nobody wanted to give you a chance to gain any of it. And you expected this, so it wasn’t a surprise to you, and it just motivated you to do better and go to some classes and stuff, but that doesn’t mean getting rejected so many times didn’t hurt you. There were times where you would feel like the people who told you that you wouldn’t be able to make it were right and that you should just give up and go back home. Your family was alright with you coming back and going to college for something else, but just like your friends, they believed that you could do it and that every beginning is hard, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t succeed. And indeed, with patience, it started happening, you started getting cast.

Of course, you wouldn’t be able to get a lead role right off the bat, but you were getting work as eather a background character, or a very minor character that maybe had one or two lines. And even though it was something small and didn’t mean a lot of camera time, you were still extatic and extremly grateful and happy to even be getting any work at all. Your portfolio was growing, your list of work experience was becoming longer and longer, and a lot of casting agents saw your passion and dedication to acting, to the point where you even got cast as a supporting character in a movie, the so called “best friend trope”, and your lines consisted of pep talks and you were honestly just there to lift up the lead character. But it was the longest time you had spent in front of the camera so far and the most speaking lines you had gotten, so to say you were grateful and excited would be understatements.

You had no idea where all of this was gonna take you, but you were so proud of yourself for not giving up on your dreams. You even sent tickets for that movie to your cousins who didn’t believe you could make it and some of the people who bullied you and said you would never amount to nothing. It wasn’t to spite them, not too much anyway, because you never were a person to hold a grudge or feel good if others are feeling down. You just wanted to tell them that hard work will always pay off and that hard work can beat talent if talent doesn’t work hard. You were getting recognized and it was blowing your mind to be walking down the street and hear people talking about you as you pass them, guessing if you were the girl they had seen in that movie. And it made you smile every time. Eventually you ended up getting an e-mail that changed your life in a drastic way. A huge gig, bigger than any you have had before, with actors that you admired.

You had known Bill Skarsgård from his role as Roman Godfrey in Hemlock Groove, and as the iconic clown, Pennywise, in the most recent IT movies. And when your agent told you that he was gonna be one of your costars, you had to sit down, as your legs felt like they were gonna give out. He always seemed like a truly pleasant person to be around and an actor who really cares about the craft. And his good looks were just a bonus to a very amazing person. And that was the case for your other costar who once again gave you that feeling that you were gonna collapse if you keep standing. The Ivar the Boneless from Vikings, Victor from Outsiders, Alex Høgh Andersen. Alex always had the appeal as a literal ray of sunshine to you and it made your head feel dizzy to be working with them at all, and even when you met them, you couldn’t believe it was true.

Both Bill and Alex found you adorable as you tried not to fangirl around them, and be your cool self, or at least what you thought was cool. Bill had known about you as he had watched one of the movies you were in and he admired the way you put everything you had into your character, so he already knew some things about you, but even with that, you had managed to amaze him beyong belief. To Alex. meeting you was completely new territory, but he was enjoying every second of it, seeing the way every part of you contained the character you were supposed to potray. Even your eyes would show the emotion your character was supposed to be feeling that both men were dangerously close to apologising to you the moment they looked into your eyes as you were filming a scene where you were supposed to have a disagreement or fight.

Both Alex and Bill felt like they were learning a lot from you, as much as you were learning from them. And your vibrant personality, combined with that smile of yours were enough for them to develp crushes on you. It amazed them that neither one of them was able to say anything to you, that when it came to you, they would feel nervous or get tongue tied. When the two of them were talking and you came up, the shock on both of their faces, wide eyed expressions were almost comical as they realised the second they started talking about you that they had crushes on you. They didn’t want to make this a rivalry between them and try to win you over from one or the other. They were gonna leave the choice to you if you ever developped feelings for one of them and the other was gonna support you both. But that didn’t stop them from admiring you constantly and gushing about you in interviews and to each other.

As more time passed, the more the three of you started getting closer, so much so that they put up with the silly nicknames that you gave them and even though Billy and Lexie weren’t their favorite, and they honestly prefered some of your more creative nicknames, or standard “love” or “hun” that you loved calling people who were important to you, they cared about you enough to accept you just the way you were, which meant the world to you. Bill’s brother Gustaf was really glad that his costar from Vikings was friends with his brother, because the cast of the show had become like his second family in a way, and now you were a very dear friend to all of them.

Every interview that you did with these boys was a blast, you would always have fun and if they even sensed that you were feeling uncomfortable with a question or something, the both of them would create a diversion, as you woke up in them the feeling to be protective over you, but not too much that you feel suffocated, but just enough for people to know that you were not someone to mess with, both because of you being a strong and independent woman, and also because you had the two of them who had your back as much you had theirs. You three were truly a great trio, and your friendship was one that you were sure was for the books and that it was gonna last.

Regardless of the fact that their crushes were growing by the day and often times they had to stop themselves from spending entire interviews talking about you, they never forced you into anything, or tried to convince you that one of them was better for you than the other. And their biggest pet peeve was when you didn’t believe in yourself and always claimed that “people were just too kind to you” whenever someone complimented you, because they just wanted you to know that to them you were absolutely amazing and to so many people who were fans of you. But they appreciated that you were kinda using that to keep your humble nature, worried that if you started giving yourself that much credit, you would become vain and too self absorbed. They were thankful that they met you and hoped your friendship lasted a long time, even if nothing more developped from it. You were the Golden Trio, named by the entertainement industry, or the Stylish Trio as fans started calling you after Alex’s post, and you were happy with it.

---***---

SURPRISE @walkxthexmoon !! You wanted either one of aus that I do, but you were always sweet to me and kind, that you get all of it, written, gif and social media au :D <3 I truly hope you like it :)

I appreciate all of you guys and thank you all for your follows, likes, reblogs, I’ll never be able to thank you all enough. Every time I get an e-mail telling me someone followed me, it makes my entire week better and keeps me motivated! So thank you to all of you, I love you all so much, and if people are nice to me I do my damnest to be 10x nicer, because you deserve it back, so this fic took a lot longer to make than I thought, and hopefully it’s a good one and you guys like it, and just once again, I appreaciate all of you <3

[dacreshoney]

vikings part 1.3 series 1

series 1 part 1.2 link https://dacreshoney.tumblr.com/post/627446295725015040/vikings-series-1-part-12

1.3 series 1 of master list 

warnings: may be swearing, smut, fluff, violent behaviours mentioned (I do not condone any behaviours) 

gifs and images not my own(can provide any evidence if needs be) or any problems or requests, message me:) 

summary: a week had passed by where freya had arrived in Kattegat to save an old friend of hers, and her and Ivar found themselves to be quite the match in training together. Ragnar was planning another raid on Francia, where Rollo was held captive, although his brother did not know he was now married to a Francia princess and learning new ways to live, now putting aside the old gods. Freya was preparing in Kattegat with Ragnar, his sons and their army, may nights would go by where ivar and freya would look for each other, often finding one another in their dreams. Ivar found something in himself that he thought he would never find, somehow how did start to feel like a real man and not a cripple everyone called him. Freya made him believe he could be so much more. 

..............................................................................................................................

It was the night before the raid and everyone was gathered in the great hall for a feast, this was the last night families would be with each other, celebrating a victory or finding remorse in the nights events. Ivar and his brothers sat at the long table, ivar next to his mother, her arm placed on his, whispering in his ear like she normally does. Aslaug often shown favouritism for ivar rather than her other sons, she too saw greatness in him, but for the wrong reasons. You were getting ready in your chamber, when a familiar face walked into your room, it was Lagertha, her faced beamed from ear to ear, the rumours she heard were true, she had longed to see your face again. both of you embraced for a few seconds before letting go, Lagertha taking her hands to help you fasten up your gown for the feast.

“you are still as beautiful as ever my freya” Lagertha smiled as she helped you with your gown, her smile never leaving her face as she brushed her hands down your sides and raised her head to your shoulders to lean on. you turned to fix her strand of blonde hair on her face to tuck it behind her ears

“well being a god has god to have its perks somewhere in the job description” you joked, you wore a beautiful red wine gown, which hugged your curvy toned figure just wonderfully. Embodied with golden gems and armour, the dress flew just right on the arms and the bottom, your hair tied in with your golden reef crown. The most beautiful goddess and women ever to be laid eyes on.

You made your way through the great hall all eyes turned to you, in which aslaug hated all the attention going to someone else, never mind someone who was walking through the crowds with Ragnar's ex wife. Aslaug noticed ivar jump out of his seat in ore of you, for someone who struggled to walk, with his new crutches and leg pieces she had never seen him move so fast. 

Ivar comes face to face with you, standing tall and proud, to others he was just a cripple, but to you, well you saw something greater in him than any other could see. 

“so the stories are true” ivar spoke, placing his golden cup to his lips, supping at his wine but his eyes never leaving focus on yours. Your expression unclear to what ivar was talking about, questioning him. 

“and what stories have you heard ivar”

Ivar edged closer to you, his head curving into the arch of your neck and whispering “you truly are the most eye capturing goddess this world has ever known” before you could answer, your neck twitching at his warm breath on your neck, he followed with “and you will be mine”. Attracted by his confidence, you immediately turned to face him, your lips just inches apart, his eyes torn on whether to make a move, you inched back teasing him, “I belong to nobody ivar” you winked, picking up a wine cup and walking away to sit with Ragnar.  as you walked away, ivar softly spoke under his breath, “we’ll see”

Ivar watched your every move that night, Aslaug keeping eyes on you also, you'd often make eye contact with ivar and swap hints with your eyes. 

Aslaug sick of the sight of you two, speaks harshly to ivar, “son, what do you think you are doing”. Ivar turned to his mother, losing his grin in curiosity for what his mother was going to say. “I am mearly enjoying myself mother, a cripple has got to find some things worth while in his lifetime” ivar laughed as he sipped his drink. Aslaug furious, grabbed him by the wrist and whispered into his ear, “well let me tell you something dear ivar, she is not worth your while or you hers, do you really think that she could love you, tell me, who here in this room loves you hmm” aslaug questioned, grabbing ivars face and turning it to the crowd of people in the great hall, all laughing and drunk. Ivars face grew red, from embarrassment and his mothers grip. “can you count how many ivar, no I thought so, you only have me, that is all you will ever have, now take your fantasies elsewhere, you are making me sick” aslaug pushed ivar away, you swiftly moved from his chair to leave the great hall. His mother had never spoke to him that way before, ivar was always her precious one, her beloved, could you really make her blood boil that much. You listened in to every word with your senses, as you watched ivar push through the crowd of people, his face red with anger but his heart was saying otherwise, he was broken inside. 

You followed ivar out of the great hall to his chamber, finding him standing there all alone, staring up at the printings of the norse gods praying and pleading for help. You didn't want to startle him, so you walked gently up to him and said

“why pray to them when you have me here, what can they do that I can not” you placed your hand on his shoulder, ivar shrugged you off, he always refused peoples help when he felt this way, he couldn't let anyone in to his emotions, they made him weak he always said. “I do not need any help, especially from you” ivar spoke harshly, not even looking at you. You walked round to face him, your golden eyes catching his icy blue ones, fixated. You raised your hand to place on his cheek, ivar hesitated it first, moving away, until you slowly placed your palm on his cheek and spoke. 

“is that you or your mothers words speaking, ivar, I heard everything she said” ivar started to turn red in the face again, feeling defeated in his ways, “I don't need you feeing sorry for me freya” ivar jumped away from you, turning to stumble away. 

“I don't feel sorry for you actually ivar, I feel sorry for your mother, pitiful and despiteful in her own sons greatness and she doesn't even know the half of your story” you spoke proudly, edging towards ivar who was facing away from you, paused in his steps. You place your hands in his, slowly stoke his hands, moving up his arms to his chin, tilting his chin up you say

“ you have no idea how great you will turn out to be ivar, no idea, you will be the greatest, loved by many, so you can sit here and pity yourself or you can be a man and face your future how I have seen it”. Ivar grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him, “how can I be that man when I am like this, huh? a cripple being a great man, my mother is many things, she is always right, how can anyone love this” ivar spoke, looking down at himself, his crutches, they were what made him feel useless and less of a man. “I am no man, I can't even pleasure a women have you heard? you are a goddess, what do you want with a cripple” 

You removed your hand from ivars grip, placing both hands on his biceps, gracefully sliding them down towards his legs, where you placed your grip on them, towards his groin area, you were the goddess of fertility and love, but your powers could do so much more. You could make him feel like a man he wants to be, your hands moved to his inner thighs, you could see ivar felt something, his eyes told a different story as he looked at you. 

“maybe you just haven't had the right person to make you feel like a man Ivar’... your fingertips, creating circular motions above his ties, something was bulging, you smiled and said ‘I can make you feel like the man you want to be, but know this, being a cripple does not change the fact that we have something, our paths are meant to cross, you can either face that and please the gods or you can run away from your fate and happiness” 

“how are you doing that, I've never umm, felt that before” Ivar winsed and panted under his breath. Taking a seat on the bench beside him, taking your hand with him. 

“ I told you, I can give you anything you want if you let me” 

Ivar paused, tilting his head back in relief, to then lift his head and face you, he then questioned. “can you heal me, my legs”, you hesitated at first, moving yourself onto ivars lap, you wanted to give your all to him, but first you wanted to make him believe he was a man, even as a cripple, he just needed the right person beside him. You knew that your fates were to cross with one another and if making ivars wishes come true and to heal him was what you were sent to do then so be it. But you would let him enjoy this night with you as just ivar, himself, who he was born to be and you could show him that you could love him as this man. 

“If you wish it ivar, but let me show you how I can love you as you are” before you could move your hands he grabbed you by the hips and demanded,

“please, I want to feel you as a human, as someone who is worth of your touch and can reciprocate that” your face grew sad at his response, but either way you knew you would do anything he asked for, like he had a hold of you, freya the goddess bewitched by a human. You set aside, explaining to ivar what you needed to do for the spell, a blood sacrifice, ivar recently had killed his own brother Sigurd, for the sacrifice we needed his blood and his bones. Ivar gulped at the fact he had to remove his brother from his grave, disturbing his peace with Valhalla, but this was a sacrifice he was willing to make. 

“are you sure ivar” you hesitated 

“I have never been more sure” ivar spoke, placing his hands on your cheeks, for he was to be then man he always wanted to be and now he could finally be with a woman who could see his potential, but not only that, she could of loved him as he is, or he was. 

was freya willing to change his future for the sake of something of his imagination or was she willing to make him believe his full potential just the way he was? 

[ofmanderley]

CANON DIV. AU - linked loosely to THIS AES. BOARD / THIS GIFSET + THIS / THIS

with aethelred surviving, instead of being poisoned by his own mother, he very much fills the gap left by bishop heahmund when he was slain - growing into a great warrior at his brother’s side. upon arriving in england for the last time, both ivar and hvitserk see the saxon prince set to put flaming arrows into their ships but he hesitates. for a moment, hvitserk believes aethelred might retain some feelings for him. ivar, of course, doesn’t think the same. 

@flowers-in-your-hayr @issadoragreen 

[nukyster-blog]

Adrift Chapter 20) Charge

.-.-.

The Morvan was a mountainous area that had a rich flora and fauna. Wild flowers bloomed, primroses, figwort, wood anemones, wild daffodils. Raspberries and strawberries were widespread. Birds found it a paradise, buzzards, hawks and falcons preyed on the much smaller sparrows, magpies and swallows. Small hunters such as foxes and badgers kept the rabbit, hare, and squirrel population under control. Deer were also frequent visitors of the beautiful area.

For the first time since Ivar had been dragged through the walls of the castle of de Haar, food was abundant. It was bittersweet, because every bite seemed to turn to ash in his mouth. 

As the last ember of the campfire diminished, he chose the solitude of the forest, crawling far away from their camp once dawn spared him enough light. 

Truth was; he could not stand to be in the presence of the maidens. It was like an avalanche; the thickness of the air as he dared to think of either one of them. It choked him as he submerged himself in his own flagellating thoughts. He had to face the fact that one maiden would never trust him again if she knew what he did with the other.  

Ivar hadn’t feared much in his life, but he’d rather drown than read this betrayal in Piglet’s dark eyes. 

“I know Utstott, I fucked up,” Ivar agreed with a deep huff as his faithful companion nipped sharp at his earlobe, digging his claws into his shoulder. The white raven hopped a little aside, agitated.

It pained Ivar to confess; but there were moments he missed being locked inside the walls of the castle of de Haar. Life had been cruel; but simple. Everything wore either the color white or black; everyone was simply the enemy. His days were mundane and well-organized; survive, endure, feed the pigs, eat as many scraps as you can. He did not need to think nor feel, simply because he lacked the strength, and hunger occupied every inch of his being, too much to care about anything or anyone else. 

Now that those cherished walls had crumbled, everything else started to grab him by the throat. There wasn’t any pain nor hunger to occupy his mind, body and soul. And in all honesty, he’d love to trade places with his former self locked inside that dingy shed; because he struggled so dearly with coming to terms with these feelings. 

“Oh Utstott, if I could trade bodies just for a day,” Ivar reminisced to the white raven and swallowed a large lump in the back of his throat as he watched the bird lift itself atop the wind and leave him all alone in his solemness. 

The guttural distraught cry of Piglet made all the hairs of his neck and arm bristle. His entire body snapped toward the sound and into fight-mode. 

Following Utstott’s rushed caws, Ivar dragged his lower body forth as fast as he could. At the camp, he spotted Valeríe huddling underneath the ox-wagon, both animals bucking and bolting at the forestline. “Where is she?!” Ivar shouted in panic, crawling agitated underneath the wagon once he did not receive an immediate answer. Dragging her palms away from her face he gave her a harsh shove. “WHERE IS SHE?!” he repeated, screaming this time as Piglet’s scream echoed through the maze of trees. “I don’t know!” Valeríe cried out, “there was a wild boar, it attacked the oxes, she tried to distract them and it went after her.” The muscles in his arms tightened and for a moment air evaporated from his lungs. A damn boar. He let go of Valeríe immediately, trudging toward the immediate danger. A damn boar, his nostrils flared and he shouted out: “PIGLET, FIND A TREE, HIDE UP HIGH!” The head of a wild boar could take up a third of its body. They were unpredictable, once they started to charge it was almost impossible to outrun them. Their razor sharp tusks could do a lot of damage, if not be lethal.

In blind panic Ivar pushed himself through bushes, crushing ferns, hitting his knees over tree roots until he finally spotted Piglet. 

Of all damn trees she could have picked she’d taken refuge into a gaunt elm tree of not even ten winters old. Screaming at the top of her lungs she only agitated the four legged furry monster, who was growling and charging the tree trunk over and over again. 

Ivar had the advantage of being on higher ground, and was given the bird's eye view of the situation. He would have had a clear shot, if he’d possessed a bow and arrow, or any other weapon. But Piglet’s distress call had casted all logic from his system and so it was time for a rash decision. 

He threw himself downhill, making as much noise as was humanly possible. Once his body rolled into view it stunned the wild boar for a mere moment. And then the animal did what Ivar hoped it would do; it focused on a new target. Him. 

The collision was so powerful it nearly knocked him out. The agitated squeals of the feral animal kept him conscious and, instinctively, he covered his face in his arms. The speed of the animal was incredible, before Ivar could brace himself for another attack the animal charged at him again. His body scraped over the uneven terrain, curling into fetal position; the third charge was the worst; the animal trampled over him. His view started to turn black and Ivar sensed that if he did not fight back the mauling would not end. 

Reacting out of sheer willpower, Ivar managed to sit up and block the forth collision by grabbing the fierce sharp tusks. The animal squealed high and in pain. Although his sight started to fail him, Ivar caught a glimpse of Piglet bracing herself atop the animal, stabbing her dagger inside the boar’s broad neck over and over again. At the sight of her, Ivar managed to draw in one long breath and steady the vigorously bucking animal. 

It was Ivar’s last image; Piglet's trembling hands, chin and lips, covered in blood before collapsing. 

.-.-.

Valeríe had seen her fair share of maladies, but the sight of the massacred boar left a bad taste in her mouth and an everlasting image for her nightmares. The unrestrained weeping from the bloody maiden would be the soundtrack of said nightmares.

Lifeless, the cripple lay on his side, the boar's tusks had ripped the skin of his face open from his lower lip, over his upper lip all the way up to his cheekbone. He must be bleeding from other places too; Valeríe had watched in horror how the wild boar’s hooves had stomped all over him. 

“Hamar, hamar!” Piglet whaled, shaking the unconscious form by the shoulders, “hamar, don’t leave me, hamar!” Quivering from head to toe, she pressed a hand to his throat, bringing her face close to his chest. 

Their eyes met and locked, it took a lot of effort for the veiled maiden to repose her venomous tone to address her.

“He’s breathing, barely, go get water, clean clothes, hurry!” Valeríe found herself reacting obediently to the barking commands of the other young woman. Once Valerie returned with the requested items, the two of them performed a small miracle; the cripple opened his eyes. He clutched his chest to gasp for air and heave, blood stained saliva drooling from his slack jaws. 

Piglet shouted at him to breathe, he gurgled up more blood, face shaking from side to side, pressing into the dry terrain while trying to inhale. But it was hard on him, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. His breathing quickened and he gasped as if he was choking on his own breath. 

‘He is’, Valeríe realized, she’d seen it happen once or twice before when customers drank themselves into near oblivion. She got down on her knees and clasped her hand over his mouth, cutting off the airflow. She had to brace her grip around his face, eyes snapping open in blind panic and head twisting and turning. 

Piglet must have known what she tried to do, because objectively it appeared she was trying to smother him. The unrelenting glare she gave to go forth told Valeríe she trusted her as far as she could throw her, but she did not stop her when she pressed both hands on the cripple’s mouth to prevent him from squirming out of her grip.

“Hamar, breath! Slow deep breath, from here” Piglet shouted, pressing her hand down below his ribs. Both flinched once the cripple let out an awful moan followed by a lot of gurgling, bloody bubbles foamed up from Valeríe hands and the gasping started all over again.

It dawned on Valeríe that she had no idea what damage might have erupted on the inside and in horror she stared at her bloody hands and her grip eased for a mere moment. 

He was fast, given he was in such a state. He gripped her palms with both his hands and started twisting them. Valeríe cried out and was about to let go, not wanting both her wrist to be broken.

“IVAR!” Piglet exclaimed at the top of her lungs and he jerked his head into her direction.

“Don’t fight, breathe, please, breathe!” She exclaimed, bracing both her palms on his temples. For a moment Valerie thought Piglet was going to kiss him, leaning in until the tips of their noses touched.

“You are viking Ivar, breathe!” She pleaded, keeping his head firmly pressed into the dirt. His grip around Valeríe’s wrists eased, his animosity of her hold evaporated and changed, instead of fighting her he clung to her, like a small child did to the skirts of his mother. He drew in a sharp breath and gasped and of all of the things she could do, Piglet started singing. 

A small shadow circled over their heads and the white raven Valeríe had seen before landed on Piglet’s shoulder cocking his head from side to side to watch the cripple slowly catch back his breath. In and exhaling through his nose his breathing went from shallow to deep, gasping every few breaths. 

The troublesome gasps eventually dissipated, but Piglet never stopped singing. Not when she rose up to fetch water and rip apart pieces of clean clothing, not when she pragmatically started to tear open his tunic to locate more damage. 

There it was again, that intimacy in their actions. Although Ivar still held Valeríe’s wrist in a dead grip his focus lay on Piglet and although his body was in pain his gaze was at ease, exhausted but relieved. 

  As Piglet tore away layers of fabric, a blotched path of hoove shaped bruises came into view. The large animal had run over his chest. 

Piglet’s song paused once she worked her way down his legs. There were two skin deep tissue lacerations on his thigh. Before more blood could flow from the wounds, Piglet pressed the clean rags over them and started bandaging them further up. 

Piglet refocused her attention back at Valeríe imposing the same utilitarian tone: “this needs stitches, I can’t do it here,” evidently asking was too much effort. Instead, Piglet nudged toward Ivar’s shoulders. 

As the pair of maidens dragged the cripple, Piglet resumed her sweet song.

.-.-.

A/N: Did I spend half a night on ‘wild boar attacks?’ You bet I did! Ok, can I just say how utterly devoted Ivar is to Piglet? It did not take him a second to throw himself into battle to keep her out of harm's way. Now can we rewind back to tv-show-Ivar? Who claimed to love a certain maiden, then beat her and eventually murder her child? Yeah, adrift-Ivar is so rocking this redemption arc. And isn’t it wonderful that it takes just about a violent death to make Piglet pick up speaking again? This maiden and her grudges…

Love to read what you think, 

Xoxox Nukyster

The kickass beta: @sarahh-jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182

@conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

@adhdnightmare

@khiraeth

@funmadnessandbadassvikings​

@ dekusdante  @neondragons7

@bitter-post-millennial​

@noway4u​

@tessakate​

[jadelynlace]

not an ask or anything, but you always have such neat titles on your pieces!

Oh, thank you! I take this as such a huge compliment because I really take a long time to name my pieces.

Not that anyone asked, but here's the explanation behind each one (on my masterlist). Suffer with me:

Ink Drinker: Ink Drinker is the French saying for someone who reads a lot. You can find more names here. I love the concept of Floki naming his tattoo parlor(s) after that theme. Just sounds like something he would do.

Into the Spider's Web: When a bug gets caught in a spider's web, there's really no way out. Other than being eaten. And because this AU is lifelong best friends to lovers, a leap like that can often feel like there's no way out; if they break up, not only do they lose their lover, they lose their lifelong best friend too. It's a dark concept for a story that will get dark as well, but for a different reason.

We Don't Go To Ravenholm: This is sort of explained in the author's note on each chapter because the name is based on a chapter in the video game Half-Life 2. I've adapted the whole concept to the plotline of the fiction, and the reasons Ravenholm is no longer there, and why we don't go there.

Heavy As Bone: The story opens up with the car crash that killed Ivar's best friend, and the reason he now raises his godson, as well as why he became a paramedic. And, as someone who is in the emergency medical field, let me tell you, deadweight (bones) are heavy. And so is the emotional baggage that comes with this job.

A Dead Woman Tells No Tales: The main reason behind this title will be revealed at the end of the series! But, the main event of the plot revolves around the reader's failed suicide, which Ivar thinks killed her. Tales go around about it, but she's alive the whole time, and fighting in Ivar's army until she reveals herself to him.

Something of Madness for the Widow: In this mafia AU, the reader is leading Ragnar's boys with small jobs, just so she can get intel on the people that killed her husband. And, because we all know Ivar and his ability to express his feelings in such a healthy way (yes, that was sarcasm), he develops a slight obsession with the only woman who has been able to fight him and win.

How To Be A Person In The World: Since this piece deals with mental health and the fight there is to battle with your own brain every day, the title really is a play on the words. There's no proper way to be a person in the world, there never has been and there (hopefully) never will be.

[ivanacaulfield]

[hecohansen31]

The Time Of Our Life

Alex Hogh Andersen+Dancer! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

This is an extra fic, for a special occasion!

It is also my first time writing Alex Hogh Andersen stuff, so please let me know what you think about it and where I should do better, where I can do better... I just... hope you’ll like it!

As always: feedback is extremely helpful, us writers basically feed off it, alongside coffee and creativity so if you want to leave a comment, an heart, or reblog, I’ll be overjoyed.

They made my heart flutter and writer faster!

Hope you’ll like it!

Have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Slight Angst, Worries of Unrequited Love, Mention of Dirty Dancing, Insecurity.

(Beautiful Moodboard Made by @flowers-in-your-hayr​​, be sure to check her out!)

Life as a professional dancer wasn’t easy, mostly if you wanted to become famous.

You had chosen to try to move your career in the movies sector, through being a back up dancer for awful TV shows or awful movies.

But getting a role in something bigger was so difficult that you were honestly losing your hope to ever find one.

In the meanwhile, you had started giving lessons at various dance studios to get through each month.

And lately you had found yourself honestly thinking about settling down in that job, since you didn’t mind it, although the paycheck wasn’t certainly comprehensive of all the work you did at the studio.

Hence you had decided to try out lady Luck one last time, and proposed yourself for a role: in case it didn’t work, you’d stop your search for success and just settle in something else, to make enough money to allow you to support yourself and that wouldn’t butcher your feet each day.

You weren’t very positive, because the project you had proposed yourself was actually pretty big: a modern version of ‘Dirty Dancing’ for cable TV, that would be seen all over the country and outside of it, it if got famous.

You weren’t supposed to play ‘Baby’ but her friend, that would have a dorky relationship with a friend of Johnny, being the comic relief of the entire musical.

You weren’t positive, but you had given your best in the audition and desperately loved the entire concept of the movie, since it was one of the first that you had watched, and it was definitely the one that had instilled your passion for dance.

So, you rushed to answer the call, seeing that it was your manager, as you moved to sat impatiently on your sofa, trying to calm yourself at the possibility of another rejection.

“… (Y/N) …” your managed voice didn’t seem so hopeful and you already could hear the following part of her discourse but then her tone picked up as she rushed in saying “… you got the freaking role, babygirl!”.

You had been incredibly excited, screaming like a teenage girl as you jumped up and down on your sofa, crying out loud, as your manager gave you all the details about your character.

And soon you had to move on the set of the movie, but before, you’d have to set up practicing with your partner, who you had discovered would be Alex Hogh Andersen.

A name that hadn’t said much to you, till you had googled him up discovering that he was Ivar from ‘Vikings’, a character that you hadn’t liked in the slightest when you had started watching the show.

To you, he was a rather psychotic kid.

And you had definitely no clue that he had grown into such a beautiful boy.

You had grown distant from ‘Vikings’, after you had started it a few years ago, so you hadn’t kept in track with it, but you certainly approved the casting choice, definitely excited by the fact that you’d have to dance together with him.

Through some ‘subtle researches’ you had discovered that other than playing an amazing role in ‘Vikings’ he seemed a pretty cool guy, social and interested in photography, something that you didn’t know much about, but he made it seem so so interesting, through his cute captions and dorky behavior.

You had to admit that before even meeting him you had already fallen in love with him.

Hence, on your first meeting, at the dance studios the production had rented to make you rehearse, you had been nervous like hell, constantly brushing your hands against your leggings, worried they’d be too sweaty for him.

And you wanted to make a good impression.

Hence you had spent gladly a few extra dollars on those see-through leggings you saw everywhere and chosen a shirt that wouldn’t have anything embarrassing said on it, eventually settling up for a black assemble that made you seem professional, but also cheeky.

Not that a guy as pretty as Alex would notice it.

You were honestly still surprised he hadn’t a girlfriend, since he seemed the best guy you had come across in a long time.

But maybe he was an asshole or…

… an arrogant prick…

… that was the only reason why he honestly was still single.

His personality must have been the worst.

And you were thinking this when you heard a male voice calling your name, and as you turned you saw that it was indeed Alex, almost as if he had been conjured by your own thoughts.

And you found yourself almost stuck on the ground, where you had sat down to calm yourself, till he was in front of you and you were already checking your sweaty hands, for the handshake, but he went a step further and straight up hugged you, making you yelp lightly at the contact.

And there you found out that he smelled divinely, something like expensive perfume mixed with a tint of smoke, as you felt the strength of his body, trying not to fangirl.

You very awkwardly hugged him back, mumbling a screeching ‘Hi’.

“It’s absolutely nice to meet you!” he said gingerly, as he ended the hug moving back to look at you “… I hope I am not late, the jetlag still has some kind of hold on me…”.

“No no, don’t worry! I am (Y/N)” Gosh could you have said something more stupid? “… I am a big fan of ‘Vikings’ “.

Oh, you could have definitely said something more idiotic.

But he didn’t seem to take it personally, lightly blushing as he thanked you for his words, and you had just to embarrass yourself further.

“… I also love your photography, I am not an expert, but…”.

“I do appreciate it truly, and if you do end up teaching me how to dance, I could teach you all about photography” he promised you, a light twinkle of interest in his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon you aren’t so bad at dancing!” and you realized how stalkerish your comment had sounded and proceeded to add “… I have seen your insta…”.

“Yeah I like being dorky” he mumbled softly, completely unfazed by the fact that you had stalked him “… and I honestly am afraid to do all of this”.

A light blush appeared on his face, showing you that although he had acted all tough and adorably, he certainly had a more insecure side, and you, a dancer, totally understood it, softly suggesting that he just showed you ‘a few of his moves’, getting a light raise of eyebrows from him, but eventually he did.

And although you’d have to work on his style, you couldn’t help but smirk lightly at the notion that he certainly enjoyed dancing, and it showed, something that many people, even professional dancers didn’t own.

Alongside a general positive vibe to him that you absolutely loved.

“… I do think that we can get something out of you” you had then smirked softly, as you had introduced him to the swing of the 60s, trying not to mind too much fact to the way his body felt onto yours, as you taught him the basilar steps.

In the end, all your worries disappeared, because Alex seemed the guy of the photos, and much more.

The more you met, the more you discovered new sides of him, such as the one that would bring his camera over to try to teach you what was interesting about photography, shooting a few sneaky pictures of you as you tried out the moves on your own, seeing what would work and what wouldn’t.

And the one he’d have when he’d met a few of his fans and would be the absolute sweetest at them, no matter how annoying or clingy they were, as he blushed for the entire time, with a shyness that the didn’t let on behind the camera.

And the one that’d constantly make fun of you, softly, and then compliment you on your technique as he watched you completely amazed by the way you’d move so gracefully, dosing you with so much praise that you weren’t in the slightest used to receive.

And you’d blush a lot around him.

He was honestly a nice guy and it was impossible not to fall in love with him.

Although you were well aware you didn’t stand a chance.

You were an unknown dancer who had been lucky enough to land a role, whereas he was the most gorgeous boy you had ever seen, with an established career and a great ability with photography.

But sometimes, during tryouts, he’d just hold you closer than he should have and spun you around with the sweetest of smiles, the one you felt like he had only for you.

And no one else.

But he had always kept it very clear that you were simply good coworkers and friends, something for which you were already too grateful.

You learned the routine, together, rather quickly and were lucky enough to have such a good chemistry that you acted perfectly like the awkward lovers you had to play in the movie, enough that you heard a few people from the productions complaining about the main actors, since they didn’t get on as well as you and Alex did.

And when you had to promote the movie, you were the production go-to, since you were both rather young and easy on the eyes, and again…

… the complicity between you two was palpable.

Which was a boost for your career, since you had already started receiving a few offers before the movie even dropped.

And as much as you felt awkward answering questions about your life, Alex, again made the entire atmosphere more comfortable, joking around and making you feel at ease, almost as if you were hosting a party among friends and not journalists.

And then it had happened.

The fateful question.

‘Are you together?’ giggled a blonde journalist ‘… because we couldn’t help but notice the amazing chemistry between you and it just…’.

And you couldn’t help but blush, before stammering out a small ‘no’, sure that Alex would agree with you, but you couldn’t help but catch a light expression of disappointment appear on his face, as you raised your head to meet his face.

Almost as if he hadn’t expected such a direct rejection.

And you low key couldn’t understand whether it was just your eyes not working or you had caught some secret part of his heart.

Something that Alex hadn’t told you.

You tried to confront him softly, after the interview but he just told you that he was busy and run away, and again you were left doubting whether your fangirl dream had come true or you had started having delusional hallucination.

Either way, it didn’t stop you from trying to analyze your entire ‘relationship’ with Alex: he was certainly quite touchy, maybe more than it was appropriate between two friends, but you couldn’t exactly blame him when you were constantly all over him during your dancing routines.

And sometimes not simply accidentally.

You had also to admit that you definitely had chemistry, but at the same time you felt like it’d be bad to assume that just because you had that, you’d have to be more than simply friends.

And the fact that Alex didn’t hang out with you anymore after the interview honestly put your mind at unease, worried that you had done something wrong.

He wouldn’t talk with you, except for texting, justifying his absence with the fact that he was ‘extremely busy’.

And in the end the only time you saw him was at the premiere of the movie.

You arrived on your own, something that definitely made you uncomfortable, unsure of how to properly act without Alex trying to calm you and distract you from the attention of photographers, who screamed at you how to pose.

And you were more than happy to be led away by a fellow back up dancer, who started chatting with you and more importantly pushing glasses of champagne in your hands.

But right when you were all supposed to enter the cinema, you felt an hand pushing itself on your shoulder and almost on your own you couldn’t help but turn around with the biggest smile, as you came face to face with Alex.

But he looked almost… shy.

Which was unusual for him, although you were relieved when he hugged you tight to greet you.

“Hey, handsome, where did you hide?” you mumbled tightly as he just shrugged his shoulders.

“… ahem, I just… had some things to figure out” he replied tightly “… I am sorry for acting like an asshole”.

“You are the one who said it” you teased him “… you can make it up to me with a good hamburger, once we get out of this entire thing”.

“You got it, my lady” his voice wasn’t in the slightest as amused as it usually was when you teased him, and you couldn’t help but feel deep down in your guts that something wasn’t wrong.

Something wasn’t the same anymore.

And simply smiled at him, before moving to get in the cinema, but again Alex stopped you gripping gently your hand.

“About the hamburger… can we take McDonalds and go to my place, to talk a bit? I have something to tell you”.

It was probably ‘fucking leave me alone, you psycho’ talk.

So, although you tried your best to enjoy your great moment, you couldn’t focus on it, till you suddenly felt Alex reach out for your hand, almost as if he understood your distress, and although you were still nervous, you were able to calm a bit.

And his hand kept on being in yours.

Even when you sneaked away from the premiere, to seriously get your McDonalds, as you moved to his apartment.

A strange and awkward intimacy downed upon you, both, as Alex went to get some plates for you, meanwhile you tried to calm yourself, drying your sweaty hands on your designer rented dress.

You were truly grateful that Alex came back with an enormous hoodie of his to allow you to avoid having to renounce eating this month to pay the dress you had been wearing at the premiere.

And still you blushed when he told you ‘it was a shame that you wouldn’t be wearing it anymore, it honestly looked so good on you…’.

“… I just think that you’d be the sexiest, eating a greasy hamburger in a Dior dress”.

And you had blushed, hard, able to simply flip him off, as you moved to change in the bathroom.

And you were glad that although the awkwardness kept on being awfully present, you were able to chat as two friends, as Alex threw fries at you, after you mentioned how dorky he looked in the final cut of the movie.

‘It isn’t fair!’ he tried to reply harshly ‘…when you look half the time as a goddess!’.

And you had blushed even redder.

But what had been even more embarrassing was what followed as you saw that Alex wasn’t meeting your gaze, and you were aware this was the time that he’d kick you out, for ever.

He had been nice with you, just to sweeten the entire thing.

“I am sorry for having ignored these days, I just…” he gently ruffled his hair, making you sink your “… I had things to figure out”.

“Ahhh don’t worry, I just… I just hope that I wasn’t annoying…” you tried to excuse yourself, getting an immediate reaction by Alex, who looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes, almost as if he didn’t understand why you would think he felt that way, before he shook his head.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, it wasn’t you…” he immediately comforted you, his hand reaching out for your face to make you look at him in the eyes “… I just…”.

“I am sorry if I seemed to want something more than a friendship” you rushed softly out, almost choking on the words, meanwhile Alex just looked at you shocked “… I swear that I never intended to rupture the boundaries”.

“I don’t want to be your friend” surprised you Alex, before a slight blush appeared also on his cheeks, and the breath completely got out of your lungs.

Perfect.

Now that the truth was out there, you could get yourself out there on your own, and drown yourself in tequila…

“… oh then…” and you made to turn, but he reached out for your hand and made you turn almost abruptly towards him.

“I want to be something more” he breathed right on your lips and before you knew it, his lips were right on yours, kissing you with a fierceness that made you lightheaded, hence you had to lightly lean against the chair behind you.

And Alex immediately recognized that something was wrong, pushing himself back as he shot you a worried look, before again moving his stare to his shoes.

“I am sorry” he mumbled tightly “…I just… Gosh I fucking ruined everything!”.

And he made to turn around, but this time you were the one who stopped him.

“… what if I… don’t want to be your friend, either?” you mumbled, rushing through the words, both for the lack of air from the kiss and for the embarrassment on your cheeks “… because I don’t think that friends are supposed to kiss each other, but I want to kiss you so so bad again”.

He seemed shocked, but slowly his face turned in a soft surprise, before he rushed to you again, kissing you but with much more softness and tenderness, no fear of rejection in this kiss, and again you felt lightheaded, but this time it was damnably pleasurable, and soon allowed Alex to deepen the kiss.

And he gently pushed a reverent hand on your face, caressing the skin there, as you were more than happy to ruffle the perfect volume of his soft hair, definitely the softest you had ever touched.

And you both kept kissing each other, one after the other, as you tried to make up for the lost time.

But soon, you’d have to talk it out.

You knew it.

And you almost moaned in pain at being harshly pushed away, looking at him with pleading eyes, as he giggled softly, biting his lips.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I have no intention of putting baby in a corner”.

---

This is a special gift for @alexhandersenx​ !

[aucelebrity]

Au Meme : You’re Alex Høgh Andersen’s girlfriend since high school.

[northernxstories]

Welcome to Northern Stories.

I am Ames the Cookie and this is my indie writing blog.

Links to key pages:

Rules | Writer 

Plots:

Plots Page | Random Plots Ideas

I am very open to plotting new things with people. If you like weird Alternate Universes, Historical Verses, Fantasy Worlds and similar then we may suit one another well. 

Muses:

I tried to update my muse page and it won’t let me. So I am now opting for categories on a temporary basis until the problem is sorted.

Vikings Muses: 

Bjorn (Alexander Ludwig FC)   Ivar (Alex Hogh Andersen FC) Ubbe (Jordan Patrick Smith FC) They are the most common muses on this blog. They are able to transfer from historical to weird AUs to modern verses very well. Also they work well in poly and reverse harem universes. Slutty Old Men: Let’s hear it for the slutty old men! Gus (Tom Hiddleston FC) Gabriel (Diego Luna FC) Sullivan (Wentworth Miller FC) Bash (Tom Hardy FC) Hugo (JR Bourne FC) Chris Argent (canon Teen Wolf muse - JR Bourne FC) Daniel (John Cho FC) Theo (Peter Dinklage FC) Matteo (Alessandro Juliani FC)  Felix Gaeta (canon BSG muse - Alessandro Juliani FC)

I love older actors and characters and I would be happy to write with any of my older gents.  Limited Edition Muses: These are muses with only a few verses and tend to be played or created for certain other writers and offered primarily for those other writers. I will note if they are claimed or still available below.

Daniel (Daniel Sharman FC) - claimed and currently unavailable Jack (Sebastian Stan FC) - claimed and currently unavailable.  Teddy (Jason Ralph FC) - available Johnny (Richard Harmon FC) - available Edward (Kit Harrington FC) - available

Notes:

There is a lot of smutty threads and taboo themes may appear on this blog. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not interact. I like to write sluts, villains and assholes for fun. This is not real and should never be mistaken as such. I do not condone my muses’ actions. 

Fair warning that some of my muses are more villainous than others.

Enjoy!