#all i can think of is sigurd with this image. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

serasvictoria · 3 years

Text

Hope that you guys enjoy this filth fest.

Title: Movie Night

Pairing: Guess 😏

Rating: Explicit. Duh.

Word Count: 8038

Summary: Ubbe and his girlfriend use a movie night as an excuse to cheer up Hvitserk after another breakup.

Top screencap provided by @underragingwaves, all the other images from Pinterest and Google image search

Tagging @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @ritual-unions-gotme @quantumlocked310 @adrille88 @actual-queen-of-hell @youbloodymadgenius @punkrocknpearls @zuxiezendler @whenimaunicorn

“Hey, baby?”

“In here!” You stopped folding clothes when Ubbe poked his head through the bedroom door and smiled at you. “Oh no, I recognize that smile. What’s up?”

“What? Nothing!” He came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist and started kissing your neck, in the same way that he usually did when he was going to ask a question that you might not like. You waited for him to open his mouth. “Mmmm,” he pressed his nose against your neck and inhaled deeply. “Are you wearing new perfume?”

“Ubbe!” You swatted his hands away and turned around, only for him to pin your hands behind your back and start kissing you again. “Just ask the damn question!”

“I can’t kiss my girlfriend and tell her she smells good?”

“Not until you tell me what’s up.”

“Okay, okay.” He held his hands up to signify his defeat. “Can Hvitserk come over tonight?”

“Huh.” That had not been the question that you’d been expecting. Hvitserk came over so much, he might as well be living with the two of you. “Sure, but he’s round here all the time anyway.”

“Yeah, I know, but he broke up with Margrethe.”

“Again?”

It was a saga that had been going for a long time from what you’d heard from Ubbe, long before he had even met you. Hvitserk and Margrethe had first met in high school and became an item of sorts. Both of them played the field, never really serious about having a relationship, and you knew that Margrethe had flings with Sigurd and Ubbe as well.

The “thing” that was going on between her and Hvitserk didn’t develop into something more real until they went to college. Their relationship had been built on alcohol and drugs however, not a particularly good combination. It had gotten fairly volatile a couple of times as well apparently. Nightly screaming matches, clothes thrown out of the window, changed locks, that kind of thing.

As long as they were drunk or high, things were great, but whenever they weren’t using, it wasn’t quite as good.

Hvitserk eventually went to rehab because his mother had put pressure on him and a few months later, Margrethe was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder when she had started spiralling out of control in his absence.

They drifted back together when he was clean and she was in therapy, but Ubbe often commented on how bad they were for each other and that it was almost as if Hvitserk had quit one addiction only to become addicted to her.

“Yeah, again.” Ubbe shrugged and wrapped his arms around you again. “I don’t know. He’s a fucking mess. You know how he gets.”

“I know.” Whenever Hvitserk and Margrethe were ‘on a break’, he would get very down and wouldn’t leave his house for several days on end. “It’s nice that you’re asking him to come over. You wanna watch a movie or something? I could make some popcorn.”

“Something like that.”

“You have something else in mind? We could go out. Go to that new burger place.”

“Nah, I want to stay in.” He started kissing you again, with some more intent this time. “With my two favourite people.” You didn’t think anything of that particular remark for he said it often. When his hands started to wander, you wondered if Ubbe was going to sneak in a quick fuck before his brother arrived. “We could have some fun together…”

“We always have fun together,” you replied and you sat down on the bed, because you were pretty sure where this was going now. “Not as if I hate your brother or anything.”

“Oh yeah?” He pulled your shirt up over your head and started kissing a path from your neck down to your chest. “You like my brother?”

“Uh-huh,” you replied. “He’s nice.”

“Just nice?” He started kissing your breasts through the fabric that they were framed in and then scooped them out so he could circle his tongue around one of your nipples. “You don’t think he’s cute?”

“All of your brothers are cute.” The sentence ended with a moan when he scraped his teeth over your skin. “I told you before.”

“I know.” You heard an unrecognizable tone in his voice and when he stopped kissing you, you looked down at him to see why he had stopped. His expression was very serious all of a sudden. “What I guess I’m asking is if you’d want to fuck my brother.”

“What?” So that was what he had been building up to all this time. “You want me to… what?”

“No, no. I’m asking you if you want to fuck him. I’m not going to force you into doing anything you don’t want to.”

“Okay. Wow.” You’d almost entirely forgotten that you were half naked at this point and shifted on the bed. “I was not expecting that.”

“I know that this is a weird thing to ask, but he needs a distraction.”

“You want me to distract him by fucking him?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Yes. Technically.” He sat down next to you and grabbed your hand so he could hold it tightly. “Only if you want to.”

“Are you trying to palm me off to your brother?”

“What? No!” Ubbe made you move on the bed until you had folded your legs underneath yourself and was facing him. “Listen, I love you, okay? I’m not trying to get you to hook up with Hvitserk to get rid of you.”

“Then why ask me to do this?”

“Well, you see,” he started talking, but paused when he started gesturing with his hands. “We kinda used to do this kind of thing before.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Share.” Your frown told him that you didn’t really understand. “Girls. We shared girls.” You raised your eyebrows inquisitively in reply. “Fuck’s sake. You’re really going to make me say it, huh?” he said with a laugh. “We used to share Margrethe.”

For a long time, you had your suspicions that something more had been going on there. Ubbe had always insisted that he had just dated her for a while, but there was always something about the looks that she gave him that made you think otherwise.

And then there had been the openly hostile way that she had treated you with when you had first met her. You had formed an odd kind of friendship with her since then, based purely on the fact that you saw each other quite regularly, but you’d never forgotten about that first introduction.

“I knew it!” You poked a finger into his cheek that he brushed away. “You were always so fucking secretive about it!”

“Yeah, yeah, Sherlock. I’m dating a real genius.” He grabbed your legs and pulled them out from underneath you. You squealed when your back hit the mattress. “I was a teenager. I screwed everything that moved.”

“You still do.”

“Nah. I just screw you, baby.” The sweatpants that you’d been wearing were yanked off your legs and he made an appreciative noise when he noticed that you hadn’t been wearing any panties. “Preferably several times a day.”

“Sex addict.”

“Addiction runs in the family,” he said with a wink. “I’m just addicted to fucking you.”

“Lucky me.”

“But what do you think?” Ubbe leaned back and pulled his own shirt off. When he moved back within arms length, you unbuttoned his khakis. “Swear I’m not pressuring you. If you don’t want to do this, it won’t happen.”

“I’m thinking.” You slid your hand into his trousers and loosely wrapped your fingers around his half-hard cock. “What did you have in mind?”

“Fuck.” His eyes closed when you started pumping your hand up and down, his hips thrusting up into your hand along with your movements. “We could start making out and take it from there.”

“That’s it?” You held your hand still suddenly, just to make him open his eyes and look at you. “We kiss and then Hvitserk just joins in?”

“He’s going to need more than that obviously.” He dipped his head down so he could take your bottom lip in between his teeth and gave it a gentle tug. “I need more than that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You stuck your tongue out at him at the exact moment that you jerked your hand up. “Worried I wasn’t going to let you come?”

“Maybe.” He pulled your hand out of his trousers and pushed them down far enough for his cock to spring free. “So.” He moved one of his hands between your legs, sliding it up your thighs until he reached the top. “What do you say?” A single finger swirled your entrance, picking up your slick and spreading it. “You want to fuck my brother?”

“How about you fuck me first and then I answer?”

“Fair enough.” He pushed your thighs open wider and settled between them. He rubbed his cock against your folds a few times, to coat himself in your juices before pressing himself inside. “I already know your answer anyway...”

*****

Ubbe’s prediction was right.

You did want to fuck Hvitserk.

Even if you had never had any particular thoughts or fantasies about sleeping with any of his brothers, you were more into this than you had initially thought. Which was a surprise.

All that Ubbe had done after he had gotten out of bed was call Hvitserk to tell him that he was going to pick him up in a couple of hours and that he wasn’t going to accept any excuses. Hvitserk had barely even objected since he was more than used to having Ubbe drag him through these little episodes. He also knew that Ubbe would find a way of getting into his apartment anway, no matter how much Hvitserk pretended that he hadn’t heard the doorbell or his phone.

Right before Ubbe was going to pick up his younger brother, he had checked with you one final time to make sure that you really were okay with this and when you had assured him that you were, he finally left so you could prepare all kinds of foods that were bound to cheer Hvitserk up.

The fastest way to get to him was through his stomach, something that you had found out about a long time ago.

The two of them came back about fifteen minutes later and Ubbe nudged his brother into the living room before disappearing into the kitchen. When Hvitserk slumped down on the couch, barely acknowledging your presence, his shoulders pulled up so high that you could barely see his neck, his hands stuck in his sleeves and folded in front of his chest, you knew that it was particularly bad this time.

“Hey, Hvitserk.” You leaned over him and gave him a quick hug, but it was hard to do when he wouldn’t budge an inch. “I’m making super sweet popcorn. Your favourite.” His green eyes met yours for a split second and then he pulled the collar of his hoodie up over his chin. “I can make you some cinnamon hot chocolate too. With loads of whipped cream.” He huffed out a breath, somehow determined not to respond. “Got some peanut butter cups too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” At least that got a reaction. “Even baked some double chocolate chip cookies. I know how much you like those.”

“You’re the best,” he sniffed. “You got some…”

“Yes, I bought some strawberry cheesecake ice cream as well.” He beamed you a huge smile which didn’t reach his eyes, but you’d take it. This was the fastest that you had ever managed to get a smile out of him when he was in this state after all. “Honestly, Hvitserk, it’s like you’re on your period.”

“I wish.”

“Careful what you wish for.”

You ruffled his hair and disappeared into the kitchen. Ubbe was already shoving a bag of popcorn into the microwave and you grabbed the tin of cookies out of one of the lower kitchen cabinets.

“That bad, huh?“

“He cracked a smile when I told him that we had ice cream.” When you moved in to stand next to Ubbe, you briefly leaned your cheek against his arm. “He hasn’t been this bad in a while.”

“You still want to go through with it?”

“Do you really think that it will help?”

“Yeah, I’m positive. It’s either this or he’ll just keep locking himself in his apartment as he eats junk food for days. He’ll snap out of it faster this way at least.”

“If you say so.”

You were still highly skeptical. You’d known Hvitserk for a couple of years now and whenever he and Margrethe broke up, people would just leave him to his own devices for a few days and then, like clockwork on the third day, Ubbe would go round to his place, drag him out of bed and take him out to treat his brother to one of those huge ice cream sundaes that no normal person should be able to finish.

“Don’t know how the hell you can snap someone out of a depression with sex, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“We’re talking about Hvitserk here.” Ubbe leaned in closer to press his lips against your forehead. “He loves food and sex. It’s simple really.”

“If it was that easy, why not just take him to a stripclub?”

“Because you’re not supposed to touch the stripper, baby. You know that.”

“I did not know that and I don’t even want to know how you know that.” You patted his ass and gave him a quick squeeze. “At least I’m allowed to touch you.”

“I don’t think I like where this conversation is going,” he said with a quick wink. “But if you want me to put on some music…”

“You offering to give me a lapdance, big guy?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll remember that for later.” Ubbe might have been joking, but there was no way that you were going to forget about this. “I’ll go bring Hvitserk some cookies.”

“He’ll eat all of them if you let him.”

“He looked like he needed them so it’s alright.” You walked back to Hvitserk with a smile on your face and put the cookie tin on his lap. “Eat as many as you want, okay?”

Hvitserk sniffled a bit when you gave it to him, but tucked in to his first cookie anyway which he practically shoved into his mouth. By the time that you and Ubbe returned from the kitchen, him with the drinks and you with a tray full with all the aforementioned snacks, Hvitserk had already eaten half of them. He didn’t even look remotely apologetic when Ubbe chastised him over it, even going as far as to shove two cookies into his mouth when his brother tried to grab one for himself.

The movie that was eventually switched on was something that Ubbe had picked, because apparently Hvitserk’s woes could only be cured by watching a dumb action movie that didn’t require much thought. The choice had initially been left up to Hvitserk, but when he kept picking really depressing movies, like Leaving Las Vegas and Melancholia, Ubbe drew the line. You only wished that Ubbe had picked something other than a Steven Seagal movie, but you supposed that you wouldn’t have to pay attention the entire time. Not that you were paying attention now.

Ubbe’s fingers were swirling patterns onto your arm, lazily at first, but he was starting to press harder and moving his fingers towards the inside of your arm, occasionally brushing them against the curve of your breast.

Hvitserk for his part wasn’t noticing anything. He was far too preoccupied with reaching the bottom of the popcorn bowl. He was stuffing great big handfuls into his mouth and not really caring much about how it looked.

Seeing him eat had been mildly off putting at first. You remembered the first family get-together that Ubbe had brought you to and Hvitserk had sat opposite you, shoving great big spoonfuls of food into his mouth and talking with his mouth full. Ubbe had helpfully translated some of the things that Hvitserk had asked while he had grinned at you. Margrethe had been sitting next to him and would not stop glaring at you all throughout dinner.

It had taken some time, but you had gotten used to it now. Though whenever one of his other brothers introduced a new significant other, you saw them struggle with it just as much as you had done.

While you were busy reminiscing, Ubbe had decided that the time for teasing was over and cupped your breast. Caught somewhat off guard, you gasped loudly, your eyes darting to Hvitserk who was looking into the bowl, a frown appearing on his brow, quite possibly because of the fast dwindling contents and wondering when he could ask one of you to make some more.

Ubbe gave your pliant flesh a squeeze and you couldn’t stop a giggle from bursting free from your lips. Since nothing remotely amusing was happening on screen, Hvitserk looked in your direction and his green eyes fell on where Ubbe’s hand was in an instant. There was a hint of excitement present shortly followed by annoyance.

“Really, Ubbe?”

“What?” Ubbe squeezed again and started pressing light kisses against your neck. “I can’t kiss my girlfriend?”

“I’m eating, asshole.”

“So?” Ubbe’s hand was on your chin, turning your head in his direction so he could kiss you full on the lips. Your hands went up to the back of his head, threading your fingers in his short hair and keeping him close. “I love you, baby,” he murmured against your lips.

“Love you too.”

Hvitserk groaned. “Great. Rub it in.”

“I’ll rub something else,” Ubbe bit back. He clamped his other hand down on your thigh, waiting until Hvitserk was looking directly at it, then he slid it up and rubbed his fingers over your crotch. “You really need me, don’t you, baby?” His voice was low in your ear and drew moans out of you just by talking. “You’re seconds away from burning a hole in your sweats.“

“So do something about it.” You pushed your hips up against his hand, groaning when he applied more pressure. “I need you, now.”

“So demanding.” Whenever Ubbe commented on your lack of patience, that was usually the moment where he decided to take his time. Apparently seeing you grow more and more desperate was one of his favourite pastimes. “Don’t worry, baby. Won’t make you wait.” Your discomfort must have been visible on your face already. “Not that long anyway.”

“Bastard.” You swatted your hand at him, connecting with the back of his head. “Don’t you dare.”

“If you’re going to be like that…”

“Ubbe.”

“Just kidding.” He grabbed your legs and pulled them to the side until you were sitting sideways on the couch. You opened your thighs so he could fit between them. He leaned over you and kissed you underneath your ear so he could whisper, “We’ve got a show to put on.”

When you looked to your right, you locked eyes with Hvitserk who had been looking straight at you. His pupils were already dilated, reducing his green irises to nothing more than a thin green line. When Ubbe slid his hands under your shirt and started squeezing your breasts, Hvitserk’s tongue darted out of his mouth to swipe over his lips.

Ubbe pushed your shirt up over your torso, revealing the plain bra you were wearing underneath. You had suggested wearing something sexier, something just a little bit more exciting, like those barely there sets that you and Ubbe had picked out, the ones that never stayed on long enough, but you had been overruled. Apparently Hvitserk must have been led to believe that this was an “accident”, even if you had no clue why since it was highly likely that Ubbe would tell him that this entire thing had been concocted earlier.

Wanting it out of the way, you pushed yourself off the couch a little, and took your shirt off which you threw onto the floor. It didn’t take Ubbe long to take your bra off as well, so now you were half naked in front of his younger brother, which felt weird but also exciting.

“Doesn’t she have the prettiest tits you have ever seen, brother?” Ubbe cupped them from below, pushing them up, presenting them almost, his thumbs brushing over your hard nipples. “I know that you wanted to see them.” Your eyes darted back to Hvitserk, who had the almost empty bowl on his lap, his eyes fixed on your bare chest. “You told me you did.”

“He… What?” You looked back at Ubbe now, who had a mischievous smile on his face, and then at Hvitserk again, whose expression was a mixture of arousal with a hint of embarrassment. “When?”

“Remember when we went to the beach? That first time?” You nodded in reply, you did remember that day. “Serk was single, on another break,” he said the last two words with a sneer. “And you came out in that red bikini that you’d bought a couple of days earlier.”

There wasn’t anything in particular that you remembered about Hvitserk’s behaviour towards you that day, but that was probably because that fun outing was dominated by one event only. Ubbe had practically ambushed you when you’d come back from the restrooms at some beach club, only to drag you into another stall, and pulling your bikini bottoms to the side as he fucked you up against the wall.

“I remember, but you never told me about that.”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I had said that my brother had told me that he wanted to suck your tits after he’d had a couple of beers?” He picked that exact moment to lightly pinch your nipples and you moaned loudly in return. “Does that turn you on, baby?” Ubbe leaned down, his lips and tongue connecting with your skin. “You want Serk to do that to you?”

Ubbe pushed you back against the armrest, his mouth very much occupied at the moment. Even if Ubbe’s eyes were on your face the entire time, you wanted to know what his brother was doing and when you sneaked a peek, you saw that he was watching what was happening right in front of him very closely. You’d only ever seen him invest this level of interest in a sports game or in eating. His long fingers were playing with the rim of the bowl, moving in circles along the edge, back and forth, over and over again.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, your eyes still following his digits in this almost graceful dance over the ceramic. Hvitserk’s head snapped up so he could look straight at your face, noticing for the first time what you had been looking at all this time. “I do.”

“That’s a shame,” Ubbe murmured against your skin. “Because he’s going to have to wait his turn.” He sat back on the couch, hooked his fingers in your sweatpants and panties, and took them off in one fluid movement. “You can wait, can’t you?”

“Do I have a choice?” Hvitserk replied. He grabbed the bowl, put it on the coffee table and drew attention to his crotch when he readjusted himself in his trousers.

“Not really,” Ubbe said with a laugh. “She’s my girl, so I should have the first go, right?”

“Your house, your rules.” Hvitserk gestured at Ubbe to continue which Ubbe did by looming over you, giving you a quick kiss and then kissing a trail down your body. “Just don’t make me wait too long.”

“Because you might lose interest?”

“No, because I might end up shoving my dick in her mouth if you take too long.”

His words might have been crude, but they turned you on nonetheless. The thought of Hvitserk sticking his cock into your mouth as Ubbe fucked you was enough to push you to the brink and apart from Ubbe rubbing his fingers over your then still clothed core, nothing much had happened yet. When Ubbe reached your belly button, he pinched the inside of your thigh.

“Eyes on me, princess,” he said when you were about to ask him what the hell that was about, making the words die on your tongue. “Don’t you dare look away.”

With Ubbe’s intense gaze fixed on you like that, you wouldn’t have been able to look away even if you had tried. Even with Hvitserk sitting almost next to you, his legs were close enough to touch if you only reached your hand out, but you didn’t want to distract yourself. This was all about Ubbe and he was commanding your attention right now. The last few inches were torturously slow, moving so slowly that every time that he kissed you just a little bit closer to where you wanted him, you couldn’t help but shiver as nothing but excitement coursed through your veins.

His hot breath was the first thing that you felt, making you want to push your hips up into his face, your patience wearing thin, because it was taking too damn long. Sensing your impatience, he grabbed your thighs and hooked them over his shoulders first. You rolled your eyes at him, practically issuing him with a challenge, and he chuckled because of your flippant gesture.

“Am I boring you?”

“A little,” you shot back and he made your squeal in retaliation by pinching your ass. “Don’t.”

“You want me to stop?” You purse your lips tightly together to stop yourself from saying anything, knowing that he would only drag it out longer if you did. “Didn’t think so.”

Your silence was rewarded for once. He dragged a single finger between your folds, a quick little teaser, and then you felt his tongue part your folds, the muscle briefly pressing against your entrance, only to move up and stop right before he reached your clit. A frustrated groan escaped you and you could feel him smile against you, as he skipped the parts that would send you tumbling over the edge within seconds.

“Ubbe…” He applied just a tiny bit more pressure, making you gasp and buck your hips up into his mouth. “Please…”

“I love it when you beg.” He pressed one sweet, blessed finger into your channel, and pulled it out just as quickly. “Come on, sweetheart.” You felt the last syllable more than you heard it for Ubbe attached his open mouth over your entrance, exploring your swollen lips and lapping up your juices before pulling away yet again. “Beg.”

“Please, Ubbe.” You gave him exactly what he wanted, out of fear of him pulling away again, but he didn’t this time. “Please.”

But you were too far gone, too desperate to care about how the need laced your voice, repeating two words over and over as he sucked on your clit, flicking it with his tongue. Your voice grew higher in pitch, still saying only two words as if you were in a trance, when he pushed two fingers deep inside you, fucking you hard and fast with his digits.

A gasp was ripped from your lungs when his fingers curled up inside you, pressing the spot that made pleasure erupt inside you without fail every single time. Ubbe edged you closer still, his movements rougher, his tongue swiping against your clit harder. Your hands had reached back, grabbing the armrest so hard that your knuckles had gone white, pushing your upper body off of the couch the closer you got.

Ubbe doubled down, fucking you harder still, his mouth latched onto your swollen nub. You cried out as name as your orgasm reached its zenith, the balls of your feet pressing down hard at the top of his spine, one final quivering push of your hips up into his mouth, before you crashed back down onto the couch, completely and utterly spent. You laughed breathlessly, barely aware of your still twitching muscles and Ubbe’s tongue which was still licking you albeit more gently now.

The intensity of earlier was gone. The need to give you a scorching orgasm had passed now that he had done just that. If you didn’t know any better, you could be led to believe that he was merely showing off in front of Hvitserk, but the truth was that Ubbe had you screaming like this at least twice a week.

You had never had it this good before. Ubbe was a godsend, truly kissed by the gods in your humble opinion.

“That was amazing, baby.” Ubbe unhooked your legs, pushed your limp legs open further and crawled up your body. “You okay?”

Looking up at him lazily, a smile tugging on your lips, you were still completely blissed out. You wrapped a hand around the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss, so you could taste yourself on his tongue. Ubbe settled into this lazier pace for a short while, knowing that you needed it after your earth shattering climax. It didn’t take long for his hips to start moving, grinding his rock-hard erection against you to make you aware of the fact that you might have come once already, but that he hadn’t.

“Feels like you need me, handsome.”

“What gave it away?” Ubbe pushed his hips up hard, ramming his clothed erection into you until you gasped. Your hands reached to his back, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling it up roughly. “Off?”

“No, I want you to keep your clothes on,” you retorted and you exploded into a fit of giggles when his hands grabbed your sides, laughing well before he even had a chance to tickle you. “Yes. Off. Please.”

Ubbe pushed himself up until he was on his knees, sitting between your thighs. He reached down and pulled his shirt off, his head turning to the side so he could flash Hvitserk a wide grin. Your hand settled at the top of his sweats and you pulled on the waistband impatiently until he pushed that down as well. Since he hadn’t been wearing any underwear, his cock sprang free, swollen with need and drops of precum already leaking from the tip.

When you reached for it so you could wrap your fingers around his shaft, you turned your head to the side to look at the other couch. Hvitserk was watching what you were doing, his hand shoved down his pants, and you could tell that his hand jerked up at the exact moment that yours did. He was mirroring your motions and copying them as best he could, but he did not pull his hand away when Ubbe removed yours.

“Wait.” You blurted the word out quickly, knowing that Ubbe was seconds away from shoving his cock into you. He looked down at you questioningly when you pushed him back, wondering what you had in mind. “Change of plan.”

Pushing yourself up into a sitting position as well, you winked at Ubbe before turning your back on him and getting on your hands and knees. It didn’t take long for his palm to connect with your ass and when you wiggled your hips back and forth, he did it again. You put your elbows on the armrest, looked at Hvitserk and then at the empty spot right in front of you.

Hvitserk caught your meaning instantly and got to his feet so quickly that he almost slipped and fell, which would have put a severe damper on an otherwise fun evening. One of Ubbe’s hands followed the path of your spine, going up and down, as his brother got into position right in front of you. One of his hands had been stationary on your ass, but he squeezed the pliant flesh when you unzipped Hvitserk’s pants.

You felt the tip of Ubbe’s cock pressing against you, not quite pushing into you just yet, and you realised that he was waiting for the exact moment that you would take Hvitserk’s cock into your mouth, probably wanting to time it just right. You scooped Hvitserk’s erection out of his pants and boxers, his cock springing forward and standing at attention. You pressed a kiss to the tip first, tasting the salty precum on your lips when your tongue darted out.

Looking up at him, you held his gaze as you ran your tongue over the underside of his shaft, feeling every single vein underneath the smooth skin. Hvitserk groaned and reached down so he could run a few fingers over your cheek, in a gesture that was almost loving, before settling his hand on the top of your head and threading his fingers through your hair.

Ubbe pushed his tip into you, your walls already gripping him to pull him in deeper, the second that your lips slid over Hvitserk’s length. He kept going until his hips connected with yours, until you were gagging on his brother’s cock. When he pulled out, you followed suit, bobbing your head up and down along with him, and after a short while, the three of you had a rhythm going.

Whenever you moaned, the noises came out all garbled because you had Hvitserk’s cock in your mouth. It was almost too much to take, the way you practically choked on it whenever Ubbe rammed himself inside you with more force, causing you to propel forward slightly. Hvitserk for his part was fighting very hard not to grab your face and simply fuck up into your mouth. You could tell by the way his fingers settled at the base of your skull and how his other hand kept petting your cheek and jaw, his fingers constantly clenching and releasing as he fought the urge.

You slipped a hand down to his balls, which made him groan your name, and caused his hips to buck up. You felt his cock slide in deeper than before, hitting the back of your throat, making you suppress another gag. His balls tightened slightly and you knew he was close. You could also tell by Ubbe’s grunts that he didn’t need much longer either.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you sucked hard on Hvitserk’s tip at the exact moment that Ubbe’s fingers found your swollen clit. He always wanted you to come alongside him no matter what. Pushing your ass back, taking Ubbe’s cock in as deep as was humanly possible, your walls gripped him tightly and his rhythm stuttered immediately. Moaning your own release, you buried Hvitserk’s cock deep into your throat and made your eyes water.

Hvitserk was mere seconds away from blowing his seed into your mouth, but it was a shame that Ubbe had other ideas about that.

You released Hvitserk with a sudden pop when Ubbe pulled you back against his chest, his fingers splayed out over your stomach, needing you close as he finished. His last few thrusts were desperate and uneven, his cock twitching inside you as he painted your walls with his cum.

As Ubbe hung onto you, his breath hot in your ear, Hvitserk dropped himself down on the couch right in front of you a few short minutes later. All his clothes had been removed, something that you were ashamed to say you hadn’t even noticed, having gotten too caught up in the heat of the moment with Ubbe. He was grinning widely as he looked at the pair of you and you wondered what was even going on inside his head right now after having been treated to such a display.

“Hvitserk’s turn,” Ubbe husked in your ear suddenly and then he let you go, sitting down behind you and laughing when Hvitserk raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Idiot.”

“That’s not nice,” Hvitserk replied and then he beckoned a finger at you, urging you to come in closer, but when you had been about to swing one of your legs over him so you could straddle him, he appeared to have changed his mind.

“What?” He put his hand on your sternum, urging you to stop. “What do you want me to do?”

But not even you had been expecting him to slide off the couch until he was sitting on the floor with his arms spread out in an invitation.

“Come on, hot stuff.” Hvitserk shifted, leaning back so his head was pressed against the seating area and his shoulders were pressed against the edge. “Right here,” he said as he started gesturing at his face.

“Are you sure?” You sounded more apprehensive than you actually were, like some virginal schoolgirl that had never tried anything, and inwardly, you were slapping yourself. “You don’t have to.”

“Fuck yeah I’m sure,” he shot back, reaching out to grab your hand and gently pull you in his direction. “And I want to. I want you to sit on my face.” Your eyes widened considerably and you made him snort with laughter. “What? My brother never does this to you?”

“What do you think?” Ubbe gave your shoulder a gentle nudge and you moved until your knees were pressed into the sofa right above Hvitserk’s shoulders, your shins and feet on his chest. “I wouldn’t skip something like that.”

“Maybe you got lazy.” The sentence ended in a laugh, because Ubbe had slapped his side. Hvitserk’s teeth nipped at your thigh which was so unexpected that it made you jump up a little. “Relax,” he said before pushing his chin up, opening his mouth and running his tongue over your pussy. “You taste divine,” he breathed against you.

You let out a loud moan, rocking your hips against him, your hands pressed against the back of the sofa to keep yourself upright. Hvitserk kept licking, tasting your juices and savouring every single drop. His arms circled around your thighs, pulling you down lower so he wouldn’t have to stretch his neck too far.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, tilting your hips forwards, to keep his tongue on the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. He grazed it with his teeth and it made your hips stutter, so close already to making your muscles spasm and contract. “Hvitserk… oh my…”

The tremor in your voice made him laugh, making you push down on him in turn, as you chased the momentary vibrations. You felt a hand on your temple, brushing your hair out of your face. Ubbe seemed to want to see you as Hvitserk gave you another orgasm, your third, but the first one by his hands, or his tongue to be more precise. You turned your head to the side, barely seeing Ubbe because you had difficulty focusing.

Hvitserk didn’t exactly remedy the situation when you felt one of his fingers push between your wet and swollen lips and you cried out when he pushed a finger inside of you. You wanted to rise up, fuck yourself over his hand, but the one arm that was still wrapped around your thigh was like a vice, not allowing you to pull away.

When two fingers started plunging into you, you were a goner. You started bucking your hips up frantically, chasing the sensation, your walls clamping down on his fingers, your legs trembling as he batted his tongue against your clit one final time. You cried out when your entire body tensed up, every muscle contracting, pulled so tight you didn’t think you’d ever be able to move.

Finally releasing you, you felt Ubbe’s hands wrap around you, pulling you into his lap, pressing his lips against your hairline and telling you what a champ you were. You were panting so hard that it felt as if your lungs were on fire and you were vaguely aware of Hvitserk sitting down next to you again, hands circling around your ankles and pulling your feet onto his lap.

How long you sat like that, you didn’t know, but when you swallowed, your throat dry from all the noises that you had been making, Hvitserk handed you a glass. When you took a sip, you realised that it wasn’t the glass of coke that you had previously been drinking, but one of the beers that the boys had been having, probably his own.

“You okay?” Hvitserk took the glass when you handed it back, emptied it of its contents and put it away.

“Fine.” You were still breathless and looking down at Hvitserk’s lap, realising that there would be no chance to catch your breath anytime soon. Not until you had repaid the favour that he had just bestowed on you. “Perfect. Excellent.”

“He gets it,” Ubbe interjected with an amused chuckle. “You don’t have to name every synonym for ‘good’.”

“I know.” You grazed your lips over his lightly and added, “Just wanted to make him feel as good about himself as he made me feel.”

“Pretty sure he knows that already.” He pressed his forehead against yours, his bright blue eyes locked in on yours. “You were very noisy after all.”

“That bad?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“New to me though.” Hvitserk cut in on the conversation and both of you looked at him. “You gonna scream in my face like that?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Would I ask you if I didn’t want you to?”

“Fair point.” Ubbe put his hand on your lower back, very gently pushed you forward and off his lap. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“Never.” He gave you one more nudge until you were sitting on your knees between them. “But Serk looks like he’s going to explode any minute now.”

“It’s not that bad, dude.” Hvitserk extended his hand and gave Ubbe’s shoulder a push. “But I’m not going to say no.”

“Good,” you said as you moved closer to him. “Because that really would have hurt my feelings.”

“Wouldn’t want to do that.” When he pulled his hand away from Ubbe’s direction, he extended it to you. You took it and he started pulling you in his direction, until the only thing that you could do was to lift one of your legs over his thighs and straddle him. Finally. “Now. Where were we?”

“You tell me.” Hvitserk leaned forward and his lips connected with your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut as he left a trail of kisses over the column of your throat. “Are you-“ you started but cut yourself off before deciding to rephrase. “I’m on the pill and haven’t been with anyone apart from your brother in ages. I’m fine with it if you don’t want to…”

“Clean,” he whispered back. “I’m clean. Get tested regularly just in case.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, knowing full well why he even did that in the first place. “I didn’t ruin it, did I?”

“No way!” Hvitserk cupped your face and gave you a fiery kiss to show that he was still as into this as he had been before you had bothered him with potentially unnecessary questions. “Think that would put me off?”

“Could have.”

“Well, it didn’t.” He moved his hands down to your ass, grabbing you and pulling you towards him until nothing but his hard cock was between you. “Feel that?”

“Yes.” You gyrated your hips against his just once. “I do.”

Shoving one hand between your bodies, you circled your fingers around his shaft. You studied his features when you started stroking him. The closed eyes with lashes that would make any girl jealous, button nose that was way too cute, his lips slightly parted and letting out little groans. Deciding that you couldn’t help yourself, you surged forward, pressing your lips against his and practically shoving your tongue in his mouth.

His hands lifted your ass up and you complied eagerly, using your hand to guide him into you and then slamming down a little too hard. You were so incredibly wet that it was almost embarrassingly easy for him to slide in. Hvitserk gasped when he felt your warmth envelop him, sheathed into you up to the hilt. His head fell back against the couch, essentially presenting his neck to you. You leaned forward and licked a stripe all the way up to his chin. He tilted his head back so he could look at you, the delight plastered all over his face. You sucked his bottom lip between yours, scraped your teeth over it and let him go.

When he opened his mouth to say something, you finally rocked your hips against his and effectively silenced him. Since he hadn’t minded how you had basically impaled yourself on him earlier, you picked up the pace, riding him hard. You could see that his hair had gotten loose from the bun that it was usually in. You reached for his ponytail, wrapping his soft hair around your fingers and tugging hard.

“Fuck, girl,” he whimpered, his fingers digging into your ass so hard by now that it would definitely leave a bruise. “Fuck yes.”

A breathless laugh burst free from your lungs, the pressure inside you growing. You bounced harder, plunging him as far as he could possibly go, rotating your hips against him until he let loose a slew of curse words. Very briefly, you wondered what this even looked like, if Ubbe was watching you as intently as his brother had done earlier. Curiosity peaked, you sneaked a glance in his direction, to find him with his head leaning on his arm, proud grin on his lips, watching you take what you needed from Hvitserk.

“Don’t look away,” Hvitserk said suddenly.

It had only been a few seconds, no longer than that, but when you focused all your attention back on him, he had a feral look in his eyes.

Hvitserk shifted slightly underneath you and then without any prior warning, started thrusting up into you hard and fast. You had taken from him before, but the tables had turned now. You yelped loudly and tried to meet his thrusts, but it was impossible. All you could do was let him set the gruelling pace, ramming himself into you over and over, barking out a laugh when you were past the point of coherency, sobbing and whimpering as he shattered you into pieces.

“Serk.” You barely even heard Ubbe’s chiding voice. “You’re forgetting something.”

“Fuck off,” Hvitserk bit back, his concentration broken for only a few seconds. “Didn’t forget.”

One of his hands moved to the front of your body so he could press his finger against your severely overworked clit. You screamed through your teeth, giving him exactly what he had asked for, your head thrown back as your fourth climax tore through you. Your walls clenched down on him hard, muscles fluttering around his cock, giving him just what he needed to finish himself.

Falling forward against his chest, your breath came in harsh gasps, mewling in between breaths as Hvitserk spilled into you in his final thrusts. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his breathing just as laboured as yours. Ubbe’s fingers wipe at your cheek, making you aware of a wetness on your skin that could not be attributed to sweat alone. You hadn’t even been aware that you had shed tears from coming so hard four times in a row.

“I am never coming off this couch ever again,” you said breathlessly. “I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

“So you’re just going to stay on top of me?” Hvitserk inquired and you nodded in reply. “I’m not getting a say in this.”

“No.”

“Brother?”

“Don’t look at me,” Ubbe said. “Whatever my girl wants, she gets.”

“See? Even Ubbe’s fine with it.” You nuzzled his neck, letting out a contented sigh when Ubbe covered the two of you with a blanket that you had draped over the couch. “I’m keeping you. Get used to it.”

“Fine.” Hvitserk tried to sound annoyed, but failed miserably. “Whatever you say, baby.”

#vikings #vikings au #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #ubbe x reader #hvitserk x reader #of course it’s smut #smutty smut smut #happy birthday!#vikingstrash #mar writes #mar moodboards

281 notes · View notes

mariyekos · 2 years

Text

FE Engage Trailer Breakdown

There are going to be and already are a million of these I know, but I wanted to do one for myself, so here it is! Below a cut because there will be lots of pictures. As in, 30 of them, so I actually need to make a second post to finish my analysis! I go into some speculation, some personal preference, and some references to other FE games, so get ready for a lot of rambling. This goes pretty heavily into detail, so if that's what you're looking for, here ya go!

The first two posts are mostly a breakdown with some analysis here and there. The more complete analysis will occur in a third repost (both of which will be RBs of this one.)

“We live on the continent of Elios- 4 realms surrounding a Holy Land at its center."

Important things to note here: the dragons are entwined, so it seems to be a continuous war. Or so I'm interpreting it! Also you have the traditional white/good dragon and black(purple)/bad dragon. The continent is named Elios (I'm guessing at that spelling). Along the bottom, you can see the FE Protags fighting Black/Purple armored warriors. So, it seems that Historically the FE Protags fought for the White Dragon. Lyn is facing the other direction so at first I wondered if she was fighting for the other side, but I think it's not actually noteworthy and just the whole dramatic myrmidon thing given no one else is facing that way. What I also find noteworthy is who they went for: Celica over Alm was a bit of a surprise, and Sigurd over Seliph was definitely a surprise (I can't name anything off the top of my head, but I feel like Seliph has been the face of FE4 a little more often lately). Eirika over Ephraim was unexpected as well. Lucina being there instead of Chrom was also a bit of a surprise, but then again she got into Smash before Chrom so I think even if I personally haven't considered her more the protagonist than Chrom, she's the more popular of the two. Beyond that, Corrin appears to be F!Corrin based on the headband, but I'm not 100% certain. I'll discuss the top part later. This means our Past Protag Lineup is as follows: Marth, Celica, Sigurd, Leif, Roy, Lyn, Eirika, Ike, Micaiah, Lucina, F!Corrin (probably, maybe M, but I think F), and M!Byleth. This comes out to 6 male characters and 6 female characters- which is what I think about 50% of the reasoning behind the female character pics was. I really like this even split tbh! They're all good characters, so they all deserve it.

"A thousand years ago our lands endured a vicious war with the Fell Dragon."

This time the Evil Dragon reminds me of a King Cobra, seen below. Fell Dragon has been used before in the FE series, the one who pops to mind first being Grima, but I think that name's just there to sound cool. I highly, highly doubt there's any connection between the two.

"We called upon Heroes from other worlds to aid us; heroes known as Emblems. With them, the warriors of our nations fought as one."

Notable here: They seem to all have a sigil floating above their fists. Roy also got a close up and his looks the same as Eirika and Lyn's as far as I can tell. At the end of this pan we go out to see this image is contained in a ring, which makes sense since the Emblems are summoned via ring. As seen below, some of the characters seem to have their Brave Alts as outfits. Marth is particularly notable because he's wearing the OG outfit (seen most recently as his Child Alt in Heroes), but when he's summoned is wearing his modern/remake outfit. Talking to some other FE friends, we wondered if this was maybe to get more than just swords in the mix, since most of these are sword lords. In that case they could've gone for Hector and Ephraim over Lyn and Eirika respectively, but they seemed to prioritize an even gender split over weapon types. In any case, Sigurd has a lance instead of Tyrfing, Ike has Urvan instead of Ragnell, Lucina has her Bow instead of the Parallel Falchion, and Corrin is focusing on their Dragonstone instead of the Yato. (Micaiah is also using magic, but she doesn't get a sword anyway. It may be notable to point out that it's Fire magic instead of Light Magic, but that might just be because Fire is easier to illustrate than light. She has Yune too!)

"In the end, we were victorious in defeating and imprisoning the Fell Dragon."

This dragon design is SO king cobra and I find it fascinating. Noteworthy: Defeating and imprisoning the fell dragon. Not killing. So like with Grima. The Lord who hits the dragon was wearing the Engagement Ring (haha, get it, it's even on the right finger), but other than the blue cape they don't have any noteworthy features.

"In the years since, our world has been safe. But now, I sense a resurrection. The binding weakens."

Then the trailer goes to what I assume are the people of this land? I wonder if they're the people of the Holy Land only, or just the general populace. I also wonder if that's what the modern people still look like (so, will our NPCs be so non-anime it makes the protags feel insanely out of place, or will they be different than this and slightly more anime style). What I find notable is there are actually considerable variations in skin color, so I wonder if we'll get more than just 1-3 token brown characters this time around. If we don't even after having this image of a varied populace, I'm going to be seriously disappointed. These people are on the top part of the opening mural, flipped upside down. After that image goes up in flames, we go on to Obviously Evil Guy, who I expect is our antagonist. Whether he'll be the antagonist the entire time, end up being a puppet near the end, or only show up at the end I don't know. Ashnard for example was always there, while Grima was not (Validar was the one in the story until the end, even if Grima as a concept was present). If I had to guess, he's the human form of the Evil Dragon. His neck...thing reminds me of the Evil Dragon's neck frills, and pointed ears are a definite Dragon Thing™. He could just be a vessel or something, but my bet is on the dragon's human form. This part also has a dramatic music cut. And side note but ooh he appears to be shirtless aside from those cool shoulder pauldrons!

Dramatic Music Transition Time

First, our new protagonist (who by later Gameplay footage appears to be named Alear) appears in the white void to grab an Engagement Ring. To me he looks very...I don't know. Otome Protagonist? Not what I was expecting of FE, but not totally out of place. To be honest i think if you changed all the red in that image to blue, he'd look about 80% more like a normal (albeit fancy) FE character. Looking up the name Alear, all I can find says that it comes from "the Gaelic word Mac-Giolla-Uidhir, which literally means son of the pale youth or son of Odhar's servant.". Here's a second source mentioning Mac-Giolla-Uidhir, though it only mentions MacLear and not Alear. While I used to love Yu-gi-oh!, which is what I think of first when it comes to two-toned hair, I have to say that the two-tone hair is not my favorite. Fire Emblem has never been about realism, but there are limits to what I personally find aesthetically pleasing, and this goes beyond them. He has the Fleur-de-Lis on his coat (below) which is interesting...Also the side loops/ropes remind me a bit of Shigure! I won't bother you with too many pictures, but I thought I would note it. I do have to say that the Fleur-de-Lis is an interesting choice. It's often associated with French royalty, and while FE has always been inspired by various parts of Europe, this seems a little...too direct? It's a pretty symbol though, so it's fine.

Once Alear exits the void, they encounter the White Dragon. I want to say that the reason the shot goes straight from the ring to the dragon is that it looks good for a trailer, rather than that the ring summoned the dragon. Though it could be that the Dragon gifted the Engagement Rings to the original Heroes, so the Dragon could be how the Heroes come to the world (and then it could be an interesting point if in the end both dragons die and so the connection to the other worlds with the other FE Protags is lost).

The Dragon Appears

This Dragon is not the King Cobra type. It's more Falcon-like, with a mix of whatever Corrin was. I'm 99% sure it's the dragon from the intro, since the wings and tail match. I'm also about 90% certain that the girl by the tree is the human form of the White Dragon. It's a direct cut from one to the next, and while the backgrounds clearly don't depict the same area (castle in a grassy valley versus a village with trees), why else cut it like that? And we all know how much FE loves little girls that are secretly dragons. Her dress has a feather motif going on, which matches the feathers of the White Dragon. Something I didn't catch until I zoomed way in is her color scheme- she ALSO has the blue and red thing that Alear has going on! See below. Her ears are hidden, but her hat pokes out at the top. Maybe it's hiding dragon ears like Obviously Evil Guy above. Note added after watching further in the video: Alear is supposedly from a family of Divine Dragons, so maybe they're related. I wonder if he's only half dragon (like Corrin), or if he's a full dragon and either his hair just hides his ears really well, or if the White Dragon/Divine Dragon race doesn't have as long ears as the Black Dragon?

Cool Battle Cutscene Time

Next is a fight scene in which all i could think was "god he looks like a clown." His outfit...does not get better from far away. It looks like the common JRPG protagonist that makes me cringe outfit. Like if you took Sora (KH), Tidus (FFX), Rex (XC2), a Yu-Gi-Oh! character for hair, and a standard FE lord and tried to combine them all into one cohesive character. Except I kind of prefer all of their outfits to this guy's. Well. Tidus' at least. The others are not personally my thing, and it's been so long since I've played a KH Sora has surely gotten a few new outfits. But the point is- I personally believe there's too much going on there and that they should've reduced the color by one and maybe gotten rid of the weird leg band thingies. And the hair is just... I don't like the shape, I don't like the color, I will say no more because this is not Mari's fashion analysis post, this is a video analysis for plot/gameplay post. I've included a comparison of Alear and the Dragon-Sealer's swords below. They don't appear to be the same blade. The Dragon-Sealer's sword appears to have thin holes in the center of the blade (see the lighter lines), and the hilt is a different shape. I wonder if Alear will get a sword upgrade at some point, or if the game will allow them to be completely independent people? For a second I wondered if Dragon-Sealer was maybe Marth, but the Falchion doesn't look like that even if their hair is similar so it doesn't seem so.

New Characters Appear

Next we have our new characters: Not-Dimitri, Percival GBF, and Orb Girl. They seem to be Alear's allies, given Not-Dimitri (Alfred) is playable. There's also Sexy Mage Lady, who I forgot to include in my above image group but just slapped up there. There's not much to note about them. I think the only thing I have to say in terms of speculation is that maybe "Percival" (this is not his name, I don't see it in the trailer) is the son of the red king that shows up later (below)? He has nice armor and red hair and hair color is everything in this game. Actually wait- is it just the quality of this image being bad or does Red King have holes in his sword? Is he the descendant of the Dragon-Sealer? Hm...Looking again the hilt isn't right. I think I'm just seeing things. Beside that, character designs are fine. They're kind of all over the place, but I don't hate any of them. "Percival" has my favorite outfit, Sexy Mage Lady is nice fanservice, Alfred is okay though it does look a bit like he just has a dress shirt on and in my perfect world he'd have another top layer, and Orb Girl...looks like something I've seen before and absolutely cannot remember. It reminds me of some Latin/South American styles I've seen, but in media where I'm not sure if they're legit outfits or something that has been misrepresented/sexualized in media. Some preliminary research isn't giving me any good answers and I'm not an expert so I'll just say that I'm not really in favor of thighs/bellies/arms out on the battlefield in general. FE is not a game of realism, but I love complex armor okay? If she's a dancer type character then I'll give her more of a pass because at least they're not trying to be hard combat units, if that makes sense.

The Summoning and Title Drop

After the battle, Alear summons Marth in what I think is the same field that the White Dragon appears in. The grass and color scheme are very similar, and it also appears to take place in a grassy valley. So maybe the White Dragon does give Alear the ring! After this we get the title drop: Fire Emblem Engage. Engage since they're Engaging the Emblems, and also it's a ring. Gotta say it's a boring title imo.

"You're awake! You're really awake, yeah?"

Also known as "goddamnit FE get a new trope." How many times are you going to do this? I haven't played FE12 and though I've played it I've wiped my memory of FE11, but Awakening started like this (loved it, it was a great plot point), Fates started like this (why did Corrin have amnesia you could've just said that they didn't remember what Garon did because they were a little kid and kids forget things), and Three Houses started like this (why did Byleth have weird sort of amnesia you could've just said Geralt tried to keep them from the world and Byleth, having very little personality, just genuinely wasn't interested in learning much about the world themself). Please stop going with the "waking up to someone over you" trope, especially when accompanied by convenient amnesia. Though I do have to admit I'm slightly more interested in this amnesia than I was the past two amnesia scenarios- this one actually looks like it'll serve the plot in a good way! So I'm not as bugged by the amnesia thing as I said I would be before this game was announced (as in, when I was speculating about the next FE). It's more the "starting with a 'you're awake!'" thing. Then it seems like we have a sibling/twin thing going on. Female pink one, probably male green one. Braids on opposite sides. Both...dressed in pretty modern styles, tbh. What style is this game going for?? We also get a bit of Alear being confused in different areas. My guess is that it's the main base.

"A thousand years? That's how long I've been asleep...?"

The line above is from Alear. So! Clearly we've got a special guy. The question is: is Alear non-human, or was he put to sleep by special magic? Is that magic what wiped his memories (if he's an amnesiac), sort of like Robin's magic/merge mishap with Grima? I have to say that this idea in particular is extremely intriguing to me. This is a personal favorite trope. So other than not liking his outfit (which to be honest, looks perfectly fine from this angle! He's kind of cute here. Just not in that battle cutscene), I think his character has gotten it right right off the bat. About 10 second later we find out he isn't human. He's a Divine Dragon. So that's that. But again, his ears look pretty normal- so is he only part dragon? What's up with that?

"Whoa-whoa-whuh, what are those horrible things!?"

From pink-silver girl. These guys remind me of Risen. Clearly something bad is happening here. What may or may not be notable is that they have a red glow. Evil Dragon is purple. However, Obviously Evil Guy has a red eye in the center of his head, and since my current theory is that Obviously Evil Guy is Evil Dragon's human form, they're probably its pawns. My guess is that this battle is probably the tutorial battle (below). We have a healer (pink), a mage (green), a Jeigan (axe guy, who is later named Vander), and our protagonist. This field ALSO looks like the Dragon Field. Since Alear appears to wake up indoors, my theory is that he'll come back here to encounter the dragon at a later point. Probably within the first 5 chapters.

"If I may, you are a Divine Dragon. A member of a royal family of dragons revered as deities."

Said by a deep voice, my guess is Vander to Alear. Here's the true confirmation that Alear is not a normal human - he's a "Dragon Child". He also wields a sword called "Libération" whose é makes me think that this game is in fact going for a French motif. There's also a character named Céline.

Gameplay wise (below), it looks like FE combat. I'm satisfied here! The enemy is called Corrupted. This game's Risen as far as I can tell. I'm including a second gameplay pic because it looks like they heavily improved upon one of my biggest criticisms of Three Houses, which was empty spaces. So often the game tried to fill the screen with battalions while having empty environments, which was part of what made the graphics look so bad. These aren't super complex graphics, but they don't need to be! I like them actually. The colors are bright, the area is defined, the battlefield has depth, and the UI is visually pleasing. Gameplay wise I think it's perfect. No criticisms here. I'm happy.

"The war...the Fell Dragon... I feel like I can almost remember. But..."

We see some more gameplay and learn that pink girl is named Framme. It also seems we're fighting some Elusian soldiers rather than corrupted. They look like the people who Alear is fighting in one of the cutscenes above (the one I used for the sword comparison). I wonder if Elusia/Elu-something is one of the four realms? Other than that, we meet a few more characters. Etie the archer who's in the gameplay image under the Divine Dragon quote, Louis the general(?) who might be the axe guy under Alfred in that image, and Chloé the pegasus knight who has a fun crit animation. Alfred did a "break," so I wonder if that means there's an armor break mechanic, or if it's just a personal skill? Chloé has the crit quote, "I've had my eye on you!"

"The ring..." "Marth!" "Right!"

Alear calls upon Marth and equips/junctions him. So the Emblems do appear to have at least somewhat of a sense of self! I'm thinking of the Einherjar in Awakening (I did not play #FE, which this has also been compared to.) Equipping an Emblem ring gives stat bonuses, and the Emblems have skills of their own. So that break I mentioned above? That's probably a skill. I'm not sure if people and Emblems can share certain generic skills. I'm also not sure what Bond 6 means. Can you bond more than unit at once? The bond number did not change when Alear bonded Marth. He also got a "Type Bonus" on Divine Speed and Lodestar Rush- I wonder if these only activate if you match the type, or just get stronger if you match the type. Then more map gameplay. There are special spots on the ground, which makes me think map effects. I wonder if they're like the healing spots in Radiant Dawn, or if they have special effects? When someone has a Emblem Bonded their name changes to include them and they get the stats, so we can clearly tell when someone is or is not bonded. The Bond 6 is still there, so maybe you can only bond for a certain number of turns? So that could be something to strategize around- when in a map do you bond with a unit, if they can only be active for certain turns? In addition, I wonder if everyone can access any ring at any time, or if they have to have it in their inventory? Alear as the Lord most likely has convoy access so him not having Sigurd or Marth's ring in his inventory right now tells me nothing. I think it might also be cool if rings worked sort of liked the Thracia fatigue system and had to be recharged. Though that worries me they might dip toward the Tellius Laguz recharge which was...less than optimal. Alfred (below) calls out "Sigurd!" when equipping the ring to which Sigurd responds "Leave it to me!" so I think they have generic quotes. But what's notable here is that 1) Alfred appears to earn a "Type Bonus" from Sigurd, just like how Alead got one from Marth, which makes me think it's a Bonus skill you get if your movement type (or something similar) is compatible with the ring type given they're both cavalry, 2) Anyone can equip any ring, and it appears to be at any time? At least, it's not permanent, and 3) In this image Alfred and Sigurd have Bond 1, but in later footage they have Bond 10. For both Sigurd+Alfred and Marth+Alear, the two fought together on the battlefield. Perhaps Bond is an attribute that depends not on story progress, but is like a Support Rank for rings, where the more you use it, the higher your Bond?

At this point I'm out of available Image space, so I'll have to split it off here!

Here is part 2, going to the end of the trailer. There will be a part 3 with more in depth analysis (rather than just a breakdown and spotty analysis) tomorrow.

#Fire Emblem Engage #FE17 #Alear Fire Emblem #New Fire Emblem #Nintendo Direct Spoilers #are we considering this one fe17 i think we are #my post #erurandomness #fe #tw snake #snake tw

12 notes · View notes

pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

Your heart and my heart

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: “Can I make a request where Ivar and the Reader used to be childhood friends and even convinced their families to celebrate a fake wedding when they were little (wedding where Ivar promised millions of sons and daughters to the reader 😂) but everything Its ruined when the reader's family has to go away from Kattegat and they never see each other again. Years later Ivar finds himself fighting with a shieldmaiden from another place and when he is close to killing her, she only starts laughing and surprises him with a: ‘So... Where are the millions of sons and daughters that you promised me, love?’”

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: My unwavering state of denial over Aslaug’s death, graphic violence and wounds/blood. A lot of getting hit in the head.

A/N: Title is from this quote by Hafiz. Thank you for requesting, I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you like it!

In this entirely AU thing where the brothers (minus Björn) are still in England with the Great Heathen Army but Aslaug isn’t dead (Lagertha never took over), and neither is Sigurd. This is an almost 6a in age Ivar (20-21), but of course a different canon where he has stayed raiding in England.

Aslaug still remembers the only wedding any of her sons has had so far.

Barely ten moons old, Ivar went to her and declared proudly that he had found a woman he wanted to marry.

It was adorable, the way the two of you would grin at each other, and the mad little laughs that left you as Helga diligently sat behind you and braided wildflowers into your hair, a mimicry of a wedding crown.

She remembers Hvitserk insisting on calling you ‘sister’ from that day forward; and Ubbe’s quiet presence and breathed laughs during the pretend ceremony. Even Sigurd was happy that day, she remembers, long before her mistakes made his heart cold.

She doesn’t know what it is that makes her think of you on that cold evening, her eyes on Blaeja as she weaves next to the fire.

It has been more than a year since Ivar has been to Kattegat, more than a year since he pretended his mother didn’t know him like she knew her own heart as he asked with false nonchalance about the Dane shieldmaiden that bared the same name of the girl he once called his wife; and so more than a year since Aslaug has even uttered your name.

Still, that night she thinks of you. She eyes the girl that is to marry Sigurd and imagines you sitting next to Blaeja by the fire, offering the girl strength where she lacks it, letting her offer you calm where you need it. She imagines that while she cannot have her sons with her, she can have the women that call them theirs, a part of her family.

She offers the Christian girl a cold nod of her head as she retires to bed, not able to dispel the old image of your beaming smile or her son’s more subdued one from her mind.

She walks as if in a dream, and the ground is cold and biting under her bare feet. But she still walks. And, dazed, she finds her son.

“Mother,” Hvitserk calls, but he doesn’t see her, he has only eyes for the thick line of trees that separate him from where he needs to be. “You told me to call for you, instead of the Gods, when I couldn’t put faith in them. Mother, please, not today.”

A shaking hand lifts to cup his cheek, the contrast between her fair and soft skin against his bloodied and muddied face making her heart hurt.

And there’s a familiar scream piercing the quiet, and she turns around to look at the same line of trees that her son was looking at. When she looks over her shoulder, Hvitserk is gone.

And so she walks.

She sees Ivar, snarling and holding on tightly to the sword, nervous movements of his hand on the crutch. He is surrounded, and he knows it.

Yelled orders, barked commands, but his men still fall. And the Saxons creep closer, and the enemy commander calls for Ivar the Boneless’ head.

And all Aslaug can do is watch.

She wakes up with a war cry ringing in her ears, and a girl’s face covered in warpaint and blood calling out a name in anger and something else. The face is unfamiliar, especially covered in red, but the eyes are the same.

____

“What are you doing?” Your brother asks from behind you, and you turn to watch him approach.

“I’ll let you guess,” You quip with a side smile, “What is it that people do before long journeys? Ready their…” Your words hang in the air, waiting for him to complete the sentence.

Emir shakes his head, not in the mood to play along, “Not what I mean.”

He never is. Being King has made him insufferably boring. Well, he never was a delight to be around, but still.

“Boats, brother, the answer is boats.”

He sighs, ignoring you and continuing, “You can’t leave for Vestfold. You have been summoned elsewhere.”

“You make it sound like I have to give a shit.”

“Queen Aslaug summons you to Kattegat.”

You draw in a sharp breath, “Ah.”

And there it is, the smile of the brother you know, “You do give a shit, if I had to bet on it.”

“Oh, don’t start gambling, you’ll end up like father,” You tell him, the jest almost instinctual. You meet his eyes and quieten your voice, asking, “Wh-…do you know why she calls for me?”

“They are all alive, if that is what you’re asking,” He motions with his head and after a few barked orders to your shieldmaidens you start walking at his side, “Maybe someone is planning to attack Kattegat. She asked you to bring your warriors, your shieldmaidens, with you.”

“It doesn’t make sense. If she needs an army, she-…”

“I don’t know. That woman doesn’t share much, and her messengers are no different,” He interrupts, before taking a deep breath, watching you intently for a few breaths. “We’ll have a sacrifice tonight to wish you good fortune, to ask the Gods to keep you safe.”

You nod, a little dazed, still trying to make sense of it all. He leaves you alone with a soft touch of his hand on your shoulder.

You haven’t been to Kattegat in…Gods, almost eight years now. Since your father, in desperate search of coin, took you and your brother with him back to the Danes where you were born.

Away from the world you knew, away from the people you loved. Away from Ivar.

You won’t lie and pretend you haven’t clung to the words the bards speak of his conquests, of his victories. You won’t lie and pretend the Gods haven’t heard you pray for a man you haven’t seen in so many years you can barely remember what he looked like.

You won’t lie and pretend you’ve forgotten him.

____

“Queen Aslaug.” You bow your head as you enter the great hall, and the woman eyes you carefully, coldly almost, before offering a smile.

And her face is more weathered, her hair is less vibrant, but her smile is the same warm and motherly one you remember from your younger years.

“Princess.”

You breathe out, “Still getting used to that title, to be honest.”

“Why? You have been a Princess for a long time.”

“My brother was crowned last Spring,” You argue, frowning, “I would scarcely call that a long time.”

Her smile is teasing as she explains, “I seem to recall you earning it through marriage, not blood.”

“Oh. Oh,” You laugh, even if a strange embarrassment makes your skin feel flushed. Of course, she remembers that day, and all the days that came after. Even as you said goodbye years after that childish recreation of a wedding her sons insisted on calling you ‘Princess’. You run a hand over your face, “Gods, I…I had almost forgotten.”

“Mhm, but you haven’t forgotten my sons,” Aslaug’s eyes look even more vibrant lined with the dark kohl, and her gaze that sometimes appears to be all-seeing sets on you with intensity, even as she smiles, “Your brother fought with the Great Army for a while, joined the quest to avenge Ragnar.”

“My family and yours have always been close,” You offer, a small shrug and a side smile before you add, “Bound by marriage too, now that I recall.”

She chuckles, and offers you a drink you gratefully accept.

In the quiet that follows, you feel the Queen’s eyes on you, and it makes you uncomfortable.

“You have changed a bit, but your eyes are the same,” She smiles, almost tender, almost sad, “I have dreamt of you.”

Cold grips at your heart. It is jarring, a frightening and intimidating thing, to know the Gods sent her a message regarding you.

“Is that why I am here?”

She considers you, her hand holding the goblet to her mouth and hiding part of her expression from you, her eyes piercing on yours. You see so much of her youngest son in her in that moment, that you have to look away.

Instead of replying to your question, she starts, “The men and women that you’ve brought, they aren’t here on your brother’s orders.”

“No, they…they follow me.”

She nods, straightens in her place, every bit the noblewoman. Aslaug eyes you carefully, before saying in a voice that sounds commanding words that speak of a request, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“A favor?” You repeat, before swallowing past a dry throat, “O-Of course.”

“Set sail to England, with your shieldmaidens and your warriors.”

“To York?”

“No,” She stands up, walking through the doorway behind the thrones, leaving you to follow her. Aslaug stands by a map and points directly to a location you don’t recognize. “Here.”

You nod your head, studying the unfamiliar map and knowing you will have to ask Vígdís, one of your more experienced shieldmaidens, who has fought in Wessex for longer than you’ve been able to hold a sword, to help you.

“We will set sail tomorrow.” You promise her, but she shakes her head.

Aslaug’s voice is unwavering, thundering even if quiet, when she orders, “Tonight.”

____

The ground of England is no different from the one of the Danes, or anywhere else you’ve been. But there’s a tension in the air that has nothing to do with the battle happening at your backs, and everything to do with the fact that you’re far enough inside Alfred’s territory to know when the earth itself is an enemy.

You don’t like this, at all. But the Great Heathen Army has moved for the Isles, and on orders of the Queen of Kattegat -and probably something more otherworldly than her- you are here.

“You’re leaving behind the only ones that know we aren’t enemies.” The shieldmaiden grunts, quickening her pace to take a place at your side.

“I know.”

“If the Saxons ambush us now…” She leaves the words hanging.

“I know.”

“Or if we come across any Vikings…”

“For Odin’s sake, I know,” You tell her, still betraying a smile at the huff of nervous laughter she lets out, “Now shut up.”

“You still haven’t told me why we took this route.”

“You still haven’t asked anything.”

“Gods, you are annoying when you want to be,” She groans, but you stay silent, offering her a glance out of the corner of your eye, until she rolls her eyes and insists, “Why?”

“There’s tracks, and they aren’t of our own.”

“So?”

“They are soft, calm steps,” One of the elder warriors points out in response to her question, motioning for the ground ahead, “They weren’t running away, they were going somewhere. Moving calmly, methodically.”

“Towards an ambush, which is exactly what we should be trying to avoid!”

“Not against us,” You tell her, a playful jab of your finger on the side of her head, “They don’t know we are even here. What kind of idiot would follow Saxon tracks when our people are back there fighting against Alfred’s army?”

She scoffs, “You.”

You offer her a smile, but there’s a softening in her posture, a lowering of her shoulders, that tells you she understands.

Whatever lightheartedness there was in that moment is quickly dissipated when the distant sounds of battle no longer come from your backs where Hvitserk and Ubbe clash against Alfred’s forces, but ahead.

You signal your warriors to move forward, taking point yourself and trying to get as many breaths to think as possible before you have to join the battle.

The Vikings are surrounded in the tall grass, kept cornered by the creeping hills from where you watch and the advancing Saxons on the other side.

There’s a familiar voice shouting commands, snarling orders and your heart stops in your chest.

Ivar calls his men to form a shield wall, and you watch with baited breath as his archers ready themselves. A signal, and yours do the same, still laying low on the hills.

“Wait.” You tell them, hearing the strain in their bowstrings as they wait for the command.

A few breaths, and though Ivar’s back is turned to you and he is quite a distance away, you hear the shouted command, and so do your warriors.

“Loose!”

A few Saxons fall, but not nearly enough.

Again, and again, your shieldmaidens obey the commands of a foreign commander, letting the arrows loose when Ivar’s voice echoes through the battlefield.

But it isn’t enough. Nowhere near enough.

“Take the archers, go around them.” You tell Vígdís, who nods her head and signals for them to follow.

You keep your eyes on the battlefield, watching with a knot in your chest as the Saxons push and clash against the remaining Vikings. They won’t survive this on their own, but if they find your forces -Danish, foreign forces- they may fight against you when the common enemy is dealt with.

It is still a bargain you have to make.

Gripping tightly onto the handle of your shield, you take a deep breath, and charge.

There’s something different, about fighting Christians. About offering them a hoarse laugh as you meet their hesitant gaze, about watching them cower when a woman snarls in a foreign tongue and lunges for them.

You duck under the attack of a Saxon, and use his strength and size against him by making him fall over your shield. Whatever he was to yell is silenced when your sword pierces his neck.

Keeping a few of your shieldmaidens with you, you manage to cut through the thick of the Saxon army and find yourself in the small circle of warriors that Ivar is at the center of.

You are foreigners, potential enemies, but in the moment your eyes meet you hope with everything you have that he recognizes you, if only so that he lets you fight at his side, and keep the both of you alive.

You don’t know if he recognizes you, but he motions with his head for you to move to the side, and when you do one of his axes flies past you, striking a Saxon that was charging with a spear.

A barely-there moment when your eyes meet, and you nod your head.

The enemy of your enemy is your friend, right?

You sincerely hope that’s what he meant.

You call for your shieldmaidens to hold a shield wall, to gather their strength and hold a stance against the onslaught, but there’s so many of them, and they keep advancing.

You hear distantly of Vígdís shouting commands to your archers, and Ivar does the same at your side, but for a frightening moment you don’t think it will be enough.

But the Danes, your men, are making quick work of Alfred’s ambush force. Your numbers are now almost equal, and they lost the advantage they were counting on: an ambush over a small party.

A warrior charges towards you, but you’re expecting him. You trap his arm with the edge of your shield, and with but a twist of your body you feel his shoulder snap out of place. The man screams in pain, flailing his free hand and almost managing to hit you.

Before you can kill him, Ivar’s sword goes through him.

“Thank you.” You quip happily, but he only grunts in response, and brings his eyes back to the battlefield around you.

You move to a place loosely at his back, and you breathe a little easier as you watch the advancing Danes make quick work of the remaining Saxons.

But they still push, and they’re still too close, they’re still keeping you surrounded.

A shieldmaiden in front of you is struck down with a spear to the chest, leaving an opening.

“Gods,” You watch with wide eyes as Saxon reinforcements approach, and you raise your voice, calling out, almost frantic, “Flank them!”

The Danes around you give way to follow your orders, leaving you surrounded by Vikings that may think you an enemy.

But you don’t have time to wonder if it was the wrong choice, a warrior in front of you falling with an arrow in his shoulder and another lower on his chest.

An arrow whistles by your ear, barely passing you by. It finds a home in Ivar’s side, who stumbles forward with a hiss of pain; but you barely have time to think when the Viking archer at your side falls down, a sword grotesquely stuck in his skull.

The Saxon that killed him still moves forward with only a shield, and you try going for his arm, but when you lift your sword he drives the edge of his shield against your ribs.

Pain sears through you and your breath leaves you in a gasp, and you stumble to the ground, falling on one knee and barely lifting your shield in time to stop his second strike.

A grunt somewhere above you, and Ivar’s sword goes through the warrior. The man uses the last of his strength to move his arm, a sharp hit of the metal shield on the underside of Ivar’s jaw. His head snaps back and his whole body threatens to follow the movement.

For a moment you fear he is knocked unconscious.

A grunt of pain and surprise leaves Ivar, but he still moves his arm back and takes the sword out of the Saxon, who falls to the ground and you finish him off with a stab of your sword on his neck.

Breaths heavy, you lift your gaze to the man you once knew. Ivar meets your gaze, but there’s something unfocused, dazed, in his pale blue eyes.

He shakes his head as if to will his focus to return to him, and scans his eyes over the battle that is slowly dying around you.

You, on the other hand, are focused on the blood dripping down to the ground, and the arrow that pierced clean through his side.

A few quickened breaths, and your chest aches with each of them.

Another Saxon gets too close, and while you hit his left arm with the edge of your shield to make him drop his guard, Ivar hooks the curve of an axe on the man’s sword, disarming him.

He still holds on to the shield, the metal shield so much heavier than your own. Instead of keeping it towards you, he twists, almost turning his back to you and driving the edge of the metal shield against the side of Ivar’s head.

This time he does drop to the ground, and your breath leaves you as if it were you who had been struck.

When you adjust your grip to drive your sword through his back, the man grunts out something in his own tongue, and tackles you to the ground.

You can’t do anything except painfully fall down, the air stolen from your lungs, and the Saxon towers over you, but you hear a woman’s war cry, and he is taken down quicky enough.

You stare up at a redhead woman with ink on her face, who offers you a hand that you gratefully take.

Your eyes travel to Ivar for a moment, and dread forms on the pit of your stomach when you don’t see him move.

“You better not be dead.” You warn uselessly, trying to breathe past the pain on your ribs and lunging forward, driving your sword through a Saxon that had a shieldmaiden pinned down.

____

As the Saxons start dwindling, as they start dropping and the battle starts dying; your differences between these Vikings and your own warriors are more and more apparent.

As if the Gods themselves drew a line between you, your men start growing close to you, keeping guarded eyes on the few remaining members of the Great Army.

“You, Dane.” A man calls out, walking towards you, “None of you are familiar to us.”

“How perceptive. The Gods are surely impressed with your intelligence.” You taunt with a smirk.

Before the other man can say anything, one of the warriors that travel with you grunts and stands up, walking towards the two of you and speaking loud enough for a few people nearby to hear.

“This little shit is the Princess of Ribe, sister of King Emir. We are your allies, the Princes have welcomed us.”

When the man turns to meet your gaze again you gesture with your free hand dismissively. “I’m very pleased to meet you too. Where is Ivar?”

The warriors eye you warily, but one still points you in the direction they took him to.

You pass by a few injured or unconscious on the way, all scattered, carefully placed away from one another in different spots of the clearing. You don’t know what drove your countrymen to learn to keep their injured like this when fighting here, but you don’t think you want to imagine.

They laid him down between the trees, far enough away from the rest.

You approach, and he lies still, almost lifeless, on the ground.

The blood that pools under him and stains his armor worries you, though you notice they broke off the ends of the arrow.

Kneeling on the ground, you carefully shuffle closer, untying the bandage they put around your forearm to keep safe some insignificant cut; and reaching to press it against his side, trying to stop the bleeding.

When you get close enough, Ivar breathes in sharply, and his eyes open and meet yours.

He was never unconscious, was he?

Pretending to be helpless to lure anyone wishing to attack to get close.

You don’t have time to react before he lifts his arm and with a grunt of exertion and pain elbows the side of your face, making pain blossom on your jaw.

You scramble back and stand up, hand instinctively going to your waist to find your sword was lost somewhere in the chaos.

“You punched me!” You yell, looking at him with wide eyes.

But there’s nothing but rage in his expression, not a hint of recognition in his pale blue eyes.

“I’ll kill you.” He vows in a growl, before reaching for the side of the place he lay, probably hoping to find a weapon but finding nothing.

“I am not your enemy.” You tell him slowly, but he shakes his head.

“I don’t know you. I know everyone that fights with us.”

“That has to be a lie, there’s no w-…” You’re interrupted by a rough hand on the back of your leg, making you stumble and bringing you down to the cold ground with a painful thud. “Fuck!”

He moves over you, one hand trying to find purchase on your throat to keep you still while he reaches down for the knife at your waist.

You have no choice but to move, bending your leg to kick his arm away with a hit of your knee, and your free hand pushing at his face, making him lose balance.

You turn around, your stomach against the ground as you try standing up again, but Ivar moves behind you, an arm around your neck and his body over yours keeping you immobile.

“Gods above, you’re still as stubborn.” You croak, driving your elbow back with as much force as you can and managing to make his hold on you slacken.

You scramble to stand up, but Ivar is quicker, grabbing onto your leg again and making you fall on your knees.

There’s a squeak of an apology leaving your lips before you lift your free leg and kick as hard as you can, one, two times, driving his head backwards with your last kick.

He grunts in pain, and there’s blood on his face when you look back, but he doesn’t relent, and a hard tug of your leg and you’re back on the ground.

How many times does he have to be hit in the head for him to stop fighting? Gods!

His hand is quicker this time, and he grabs onto the knife at your waist before crawling up until he cages you against the ground.

You lift your forearm just in time to stop him from stabbing your neck, and as his lips curve into a bloodied snarl, Ivar pushes forward.

Your strength is no match for his, and your arm trembles under the strain of trying to hold him off.

“This is no way to greet your wife, love.” You quip, because not even death can make you keep your mouth shut.

“What?” Ivar asks, frowning down at you. His eyes widen for barely a moment, and he falters.

You will not linger long enough to know if he recognizes you or not, because if he doesn’t, you’re dead.

Lifting your knee to kick his ribs, right where the blood still oozes languidly from the wound, you manage to make him grunt in pain and instinctively move away. He’s unbalanced, and you take the opportunity to lift your head to dig your teeth on the side of the hand that still tries driving the knife into your neck.

Blood fills your mouth, coppery and warm, but you don’t let go until he releases the knife.

You push him off when the knife falls to the ground next to your head, but he refuses to accept defeat, and it is with a kick of your foot on his ribs again that you get him off you.

Grabbing on tightly to the knife, you scramble back.

“Now you listen, you stubborn fuck. Y-…”

“Who are you?”

You blink, startled. Still, your lips pull into a smile.

“Thank you for finally asking a question before trying to drive a knife through my neck.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

Your breaths stop being so heaving, and you move further back, resting your back against a tree. Ivar still eyes you warily from his spot, stretched on the ground holding himself up on one elbow with his other hand holding onto his side.

“You had an arrow go through you.” You mumble, lingering with a strange blend of pride and awe at how good of a fighter he continues to be, even with the disadvantage of his legs and -now- his injuries.

“You still haven’t answered.” Ivar presses, but slightly less guarded.

“I’m almost offended you don’t remember me, you know,” He searches your eyes, and his lips part ever so slightly, before his gaze falls from yours, and that is all you need to know. Your lips curve into a smile, “You do remember me, husband.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“We are married.”

“No, we are not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we-…” He stops himself, taking a deep breath and wincing. Still, breathing past the pain he sits up, leans against a tree just like you. “I’m not arguing about this.”

“Who would have thought our arguments would end this easily?” You taunt, an obnoxiously smug smile on your lips even as your head drops back against the tree and lolls to the side in exhaustion. “Is it the fact that I’m your long-lost wife, or is it the blood loss?”

He doesn’t reply, taking a few moments to look you over, tired blue eyes roaming over you.

“You’re a shieldmaiden now.”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t heard of my fame, Ivar.” You warn him, your tone a tad more biting.

His eyes fall closed in a slow blink, before he concedes, “True, I have heard of your victories. And your temper,” He adds, lifting his eyebrows. “Though I remember about that one.”

“Yet you still married me,” You say, making him roll your eyes at your insistence. “You promised me countless sons,” You remind him, filled with pride at the tired smile you bring to his lips. With a shrug, you insist, “And daughters! Yet you see me and attack me.”

“I didn’t know it was you,” He tells you, and his voice is infinitely softer now, almost startling you at the change. “What are you doing here?”

“Currently? Saving your ass,” You tell him smugly, but Ivar only grunts. You chuckle. “I have shieldmaidens and warriors with me, I think my purpose here is clear.”

“You could have joined us years ago.” He offers, and you dare think there’s an edge of accusation in his tone. A strange hurt, an old wound.

“My ambitions took me elsewhere.”

“And now?” Ivar presses, eyes searching yours.

Before you can reply, there’s a familiar voice calling Ivar’s name. You turn your head to watch as Hvitserk limps towards you, face bloodied and muddied.

“I feared you’d killed one another.”

“Almost,” Ivar grunts, a few pained breaths leaving his lips as he manages to stand. When he does, he frowns at his brother, though there’s relief in the way he looks him over, “What took you so long, huh? We were stranded here.”

“Yet you live, brother.”

“Because we had support.”

“You’re welcome.” You tell him, arrogant.

Hvitserk turns to you with a smile, and offers you a hand. You take it and stand up, feeling the strain in your ribs as you do so.

His eyes go to your mouth, and his lips curve into a smile, “Should I ask whose blood that is?”

____

When you saw him last you were barely fifteen, foolishly in love with the boy you once pretended to marry, and heartbroken at the order to prepare to leave Kattegat for good.

You still remember your goodbye. It is one of those things you haven’t ever dare forget.

The sound of Ivar crawling to the door of your home was a familiar one, and it was a familiar shuffling sound what announced his arrival that day.

You exchanged looks that said what you didn’t dare, you offered hopelessness against his anger, you denied his accusations of you leaving him behind. Still, you left, and you didn’t return.

And now the sound is different, it is no longer the shuffling of the boy you knew, it is a strange thud and two irregular steps. Still, it is him, and you know without even turning around.

“Hello, Ivar.” You greet as he walks into your tent, and motion with your hand for him to take a seat.

If you eye his side carefully, and feel a pit of worry in your stomach still, even now that you see him well after being tended to by the healers, no one can blame you. Tis a wife’s duty to worry, right?

You bite back an amused smile at your own thoughts.

Though, even if you were truly his wife, you know what he would call your worry.

“I don’t need your pity.” Ivar snarls, and you almost want to roll your eyes and snap back at him, but instead you take a seat next to him on the sand.

“It is not pity, you know that,” You tell him, bringing your knees to your chest and knocking his shoulder with yours, offering a side smile, “There’s nothing to pity about you, Ivar.”

“I won’t thank you.” Is what he says to break the silence, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“I…wasn’t expecting gratitude,” Is what you answer, your eyes greedily taking him in now that the mark of death is off of him and the loom of war has passed. Your smile turns softer, “You haven’t changed much, you know.”

“You haven’t either.”

Your eyebrows lift, and you insist, disbelieving, “You didn’t recognize me, Ivar.”

“You had war paint on, and…”

“You were hit in the head, several times?” He acquiesces with a movement of his head, and you notice the faint cut over his lip of your desperate attempts to get him off you, and the blossoming bruising of that Saxon’s shield. Your voice is quiet when you ask, “How are you, by the way?”

“Fine. Some mad woman bit my hand, but I’m fine.”

You smile, delighted at this strange familiarity between you, as if all the years hadn’t passed. Maybe it was truer than you believed it to be, that ceremony, and you truly are bound to one another because of something greater than the both of you.

You offer the only defense you can, “You weren’t listening.”

“You weren’t making any sense.”

You open your mouth to argue, but…he does have a point. Ivar nods in acceptance of your helpless shrug, a short laugh leaving his lips.

You cling to that sound the same way you did when you were younger, and your heart skips a beat the same way it did then.

“I’ve missed you.” You confess in the comfortable silence that follows. Ivar’s eyes fall from yours, and there’s an almost overwhelmed edge to his smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

You remember that smile.

You lean back, still feeling your heart beating madly in your chest from the soft press of his lips on yours. Ivar doesn’t meet your gaze, but he offers a small smile that trembles on his lips, a blend of nerves and awe.

“Um…” Is all that leaves his lips, and your smile widens.

But because you could never keep your mouth shut, you press, “Can I kiss you again?”

He offers a hum in response, but nothing more.

“Are you and your shieldmaidens staying?”

“Staying?”

“Here, in The Isles,” He offers. He drinks from his horn and keeps his hand holding it by his mouth, hiding part of his expression from you. Familiar. He shrugs with the shoulder of his good side, “With our army.”

“With you?” You press. If there is one thing that hasn’t changed is how unable to hold your tongue you are.

Ivar considers you in silence, guarded and giving away nothing. He stays silent for so long you almost expect him to say he has no interest in having you stay with him.

But eventually he betrays a small smile, “Husband and wife belong side by side, do they not?”

____ ____ ____

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it!

Find a second (and final) part to this story right here!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

561 notes · View notes

symphoniquedorm · 2 years

Text

Appearance of Dorm & Maze

Castle Farscrew

Name of the mini castle that holds the dorm rooms,giant ballroom,a kitchen,and rooms to practice music that are sound barriered so doesn't disturb anyone else.

🎶

This castle is modeled after the ancient castle in the city of Goblet Muse that used to house the goblin monarchy when they used to have such a thing. The real castle has been repurposed as a meeting hall for city government things and also functions as Sigurd's family house. People sometimes call him a "Goblin Prince" since he was raised inside a castle.

🎶

Castle Farscrew is quite an amazing little castle to see and be mainly just for dorm rooms. As can see it is a normalish castle at first but seems to have giant tree roots growing around and under it to the point they invaded the castle and broke off a section that is now suspended in the air holded by the roots.

🎶

The section in the air is Sigurd's area consisting of his dorm and small living room. Most think he just flies up there but they don't know his wings don't work. The way to get up there is quite amazing and only Wriesa is allowed to go there or take people there if they need to speak to Sigurd.

Maze of the Rose's dream

Garden Maze on the other side of the castle. It is completely made with illusionary magic by Sigurd and stands out as it is not matching the autumn withered of the rest of the area as its green,bright, and has a cloudy rainbowish mist flowing all over.

🥀

This is the maze he created that gets weirder the longer you're in it. However he has it written on a stone at the entrance that if you complete it the stone at the exit has a written surprise that is like a fantastic dream. No one has managed to complete it.

🥀

Roses of various colors and sizes are everywhere in the maze but the most amazing sight is the giant one you see when you enter. It is enormous and obviously not supposed to be that big.

🥀

In the maze you often can find these 3 larger than normal insects/worm that are supposed to talk in riddles to help you find the way. One of them may recognize as Theodore Bisk who is a student but some might not realize it's him cause in worm form if haven't seen it. He loves feasting on the roses even though he knows they are not real. He says it's the vibe of the maze not the real or unrealistic of them as he munches on plants that don't exist.

🥀

However what does really exist is Theodore has a cup of fresh rose blended tea waiting for you he has made. He will ask if you want some. Usually people say no and continue the maze so Theodore just slowly sips on the tea while has a magic kettle making more for others. The tea is actually enchanted by Sigurd and if drank causes the illusions that block your way or scare you to not appear at all in the maze for 30 mins. The other two Insect form students also have this tea and offer the same way as Theodore in different areas.

🥀

Usually by time those in maze fail and must leave or must be rescued to the entrance. Theodore and the others are drunk off the tea cause it is so strong and they don't leave any.

I made these images with a A.I. gen btw if wondering

#twst fandorm #symphonique #dorm lore #dorm area #twisted wonderland #sigurd the unbalanced #wrisea #theodore

7 notes · View notes

jadelynlace · 3 years

Note

In Ink Drinker, what is the reader's relationship with Ragnar and Rollo(if he is included). I read the random convos in the masterlist and Ragnar added her to the group chat and he was the one that got the restraining order for her, so what is their equation? Also can there be some hilarious convos between them?

Oh, so her answer in that group chat was purely just to be a dick—Ragnar didn’t actually add her. (Sort of the same principle of “your mom” jokes. I know, I’m 12.)

Upfront, Rollo doesn’t exist in this series. Side note: Lagertha does, and when she and Ragnar marry, there are a few things she does to try to win over the other four Lothbrok boys. One being, having the wives/girlfriends in her bridal party. Ivar gets to see you in your dress, hair and makeup done to the nines and his first thought is how you look like a Goddess. His second is how he can’t wait to make that mascara run down your face. And his third? The lipstick all over his cock. Those are the thoughts that make standing up there, on Ragnar’s side, bearable. The only unbearable part is trying not to get hard as they say their vows, while Ivar mentally goes through the images of your legs over his shoulders, the heels still on. You pulling his tux off, tugging his hair. When they seal their marriage with a kiss, Ivar can almost taste your tongue in his mouth and you two keep stealing glances at one another.

Now!

Ragnar in this series is….not great. Ivar does not care to be around him once he’s older. Where as, growing up, all he wanted to do was impress this man; hearing stories about him. Floki tried to paint him in a good light, they’re friends after all. But Ragnar didn’t approve of Ivar’s art, or the love of mathematics, and it gutted Ivar. He was horrible to Aslaug, and not only that; he never talked to Ivar in regards to his suicide attempt. Not once in the hospital, as he believes mental health problems aren’t something that “plagues his boys”. Another reason Sigurd isn’t exactly out of the closet yet, despite everyone (minus Ragnar) knowing. Hvitserk keeps talk about his anxiety disorder at a bare minimum because of Ragnar. He and Ivar talk about these things with one another, with you or with Floki. It opens up too much of a war with Ragnar, and to put their boundaries in place, they leave that topic out. Ivar’s tattoos are another great topic he likes to pick at, and Ivar always remarks with the same things (read these in the monotone voice that’s on the TikTok sound “Where’s the cheese? It’s under the sauce.” That “under the sauce” dead tone? Yes.):

“It’s my body.”

“You have no say in what goes on my body.”

“It’s artwork.”

“If you don’t like it don’t bring it up.”

“It’s my body.”

“I’m not answering that.”

He is the one who gets you your restraining order, yes, but as much as that is for you, Ivar secretly thinks it’s for him so he doesn’t pummel the man to death. Especially after he finds out just how abusive this man was to you. Your relationship with Ragnar is mostly based off of what you’ve heard from Hvitserk in the front cabin of the ambulance, what you’ve heard from Ivar and what you’ve heard from Floki. You’re not one to assume, and once you meet the man for a brief few hours for the restraining order, you understand. You can hold your own against anyone, and he is no different.

Ivar keeps his distance. Ivar has Floki, and he’d much rather have Floki. But, with how sarcastic this man is, interactions with Ragnar can certainly get him going. They get you going. Some of them offer the relief you both need when you’re stuck in close proximity to him.

“Ivar, son, sometimes it just seems I never get your full attention,” Ragnar states, setting the lowball glass back against the mahogany table.

“Full attention?” Ivar scoffs and you’re about to lay your hand on his knee in a minor attempt to calm him. “I have ADHD, and the first two letters stand for Attention Deficit,” He adds, leaning closer to the table. “If you feel as though you don’t get my full attention, it’s because there isn’t enough fucking attention to go around.”

Eventually I’ll have a post of sarcastic quips and funny conversations that include him. Eventually.

Thank you for your question!

More Ink Drinker here.

#vikings #modern vikings #vikings au #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar lothbrok #ivar #ivar au #modern ivar au #ragnar Lothbrok #ragnar au #ragnar #— hands so bloody tastes like honey. ( ink drinker vibes: ivar )#— hands so bloody tastes like honey. ( ink drinker vibes )#— a gun shot. ( answered )#— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )

46 notes · View notes

youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

Text

Nothing Left (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @geekandbooknerd 2k Writing Challenge. Congratulations again, Hayley, you deserve each and every one of us 🌻

The gif is a dead giveaway: this piece is an angsty one 😬 Sorry about that but I feel like I can’t write fluff all the time 😉

Prompt in bold

Thanks to @zuxiezendler for beta reading this for me (hope you don't mind Hayley, but since it was for your challenge... 😉)

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Leaving Ivar is not an easy task.

Warnings: angst; Ivar's temper; physical assault (no harm done, though); Freydis is beautiful; no happy ending (you've been warned).

Words: 2089

Crutch – right foot – left foot – crutch – right foot – left foot

You can hear him coming. Of course, you can.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He's not yet in your shared bedroom and he's already shouting. Instead of turning around, you grab the little carved wooden wolf he gifted you many years ago and put it in your pouch.

As he stabs the wooden floor with his crutch, you can physically feel his anger. "You thought you could sneak out? Uh?" You know his jaw is clenched, and he's probably shaking with rage.

"This is what you intended to do, admit it!"

You just scoff. No, you didn't intend to sneak out, not in your wildest dreams. Not with White Hair's men everywhere, night and day.

A thump – his fist hitting the table, you'd say – and then a roar.

"ANSWER YOUR KING!!!!!"

Glancing over your shoulder, you give him a tired, defeated smile. You don't want to fight. You never wanted to. "What does it look like to you, Ivar? Do you really think I'm trying to sneak out? Of course, I'm not."

"Rumors are false, that's what you're saying?" He snorts and, taking two more steps into the room, he joins you. "What's that, then?" He gestures angrily toward a wooden trunk, filled to the brim with your belongings, mostly dresses and a few jewels.

"I'm leaving, if that's what rumors say, Ivar, I'm just not sneaking out." You speak softly while closing the trunk.

A wide-eyed look on his face, he can't hide his surprise at your easy admission but he quickly pulls himself together, straightening up and towering over you.

"You can't. I forbid you." Giving you an intimidating look, he grits his teeth.

You barely shake your head. There's so much sadness in your heart. "Of course, I can. I'm not asking for permission, you know? I'm leaving, whether you like it or not."

That's when he explodes, his bottom lip quivering. "I SAID, I FORBID YOU! FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, YOU WILL DO AS YOU'RE TOLD, Y/N! I. AM. YOUR. KING!"

His scream is so loud that you can't help but take a step back. But you don't lower your gaze. You won't. You can't. So, keeping your chin up, you inhale slowly. "And I'm still a free woman, Ivar. I'm leaving today."

You know the man you once loved is not going to make that so easy for you. So, you're not surprised when he grabs your wrist so firmly you can't shake him off. Tossing his crutch on the floor, he places his now free hand on your shoulder. Looking at him, you can tell you've rarely seen him this angry. Never releasing the pressure on your wrist, he throws you against the nearest wall so hard that the back of your skull makes a resounding "clunk".

He leans in close to you, his breath stinking faintly of honeyed mead, and presses the weight of his body against you. "You're not leaving, Y/N." He then moves his hand from your shoulder to your throat and the air is immediately stolen from you as you stare into his now darkened eyes. With your right hand still pinned to the wall, you only have your left to defend yourself. You're slapping him, clawing at him, but you may as well be tickling him with a feather – your scratches and punches have no effect on him whatsoever.

"I could kill you, Y/N. Maybe I should." The threat is clear, obvious, but Ivar loosens his grip just enough for you to breathe. He won't harm you. Not yet anyway.

Clearing your throat, you don't look away. "Maybe you should. It wouldn't be the worst thing for me, you know? One way or another, I wouldn't be here anymore."

Your words sting, you can see it on his face as he steps away, wobbling and dumbstruck.

Slowly leaning forward, you grab his discarded crutch before giving it back to him. "Here." You mutter before taking a seat on the bed. Ivar follows suit, flopping down next to you.

Blinking several times, Ivar is obviously trying to come to terms with what you just said. "So, you'd rather be dead than here? With me?" His voice is shaking and he fidgets with his fingers on his lap.

"Ivar, there's nothing left here for me… Nothing… We just don't understand each other anymore, you know that. I don't understand you anymore, Ivar. Since Wessex, you've changed so much…"

You've tried. You've tried very hard. But this man, this king, is no longer the man you fell in love with.

"It's about Sigurd, isn't it?" Ivar asks sadly, but you immediately shake your head.

"No Ivar, you know it's not. I told you, even though I wish you hadn't killed him, I understand why you did it. And I know you didn't want to."

"It's about my legs, then." His face suddenly hardens but you know him, he always hides his pain behind anger. "I knew it. I knew this day would come. You're tired of the cripple, admit it."

Without thinking, you grab his hand, entwining his fingers with yours. As much as you resent him for what he has become, you can't let him run himself down like this. " It has nothing to do with your legs. Your legs have never bothered me, and they never will. You're stronger than all other men, not in spite of your legs, but because of them. Actually, you're the strongest man I know, and I've always felt proud to walk beside you, or to be your woman. I forbid you to doubt it."

"Why, then?" Ivar is so soft now, seems to be so… broken, you have to remind yourself why you're leaving. You have to remind yourself of the horror.

Closing your eyes, you conjure up frightful images behind your eyelids.

"You killed Margrethe, Ivar. You didn't have to do that."

He tenses beside you, releasing his hand from your grip. "She was talking rubbish all the time, she was spreading rumors about me, you know that!!"

"She was insane, Ivar! She was no danger, neither to you nor to anyone. And as for the rumors, I'm loud enough for people to know that you can pleasure a woman. She was harmless, and you killed her, and that, Ivar, I can't understand. And then, you did worse. You killed Thora." You can't help but wince, the stench of burning flesh still so vivid in your mind, you'd swear it's real.

Fuming, Ivar points an accusing finger at you. "She defaced my image. She was plotting behind my back. She was conspiring, criticizing me. She saw me as a tyrant while I was just trying to rule well. She was a FUCKING DANGER!"

Startled by his shout, you stand up hastily. "You burned her alive, Ivar!! You burned her entire family. Asbjorn, her brother, had not yet seen his tenth spring. And you killed him!" You know he can see the disgust on your face, and the truth is, you don't care. He deserves your disgust. He deserves your contempt. He deserves you falling out of love with him. "Thora was your brother's lover and she was my friend and you burned her alive!!! How could you?" Your hands tangled in your hair, you shake your head, still barely able to process the horror of what he did.

"And what was I supposed to do, huh?" Ivar seems unshaken, and it strengthens your resolve. He doesn't know between good and evil, not anymore. You want to reply that he could have exiled her, or had her thrown in jail, but to what end? What's done is done, and your former lover is a monster now.

"It doesn't matter, Ivar… What matters is that you're like a stranger. I don't know who you are anymore. Since this girl, you've changed." You shrug, blinking back tears.

Ivar rolls his eyes. "So that's what it was all about? I can't believe you're jealous, Y/N. This girl… It's just a... thrall"

Oh gods! There's none so deaf as those that will not hear, right?

"I'm not jealous, Ivar. She was naked on your lap, but I'm not jealous. Or maybe I was, but it doesn't matter anymore. And I don't give a damn about what or who she is. But she was whispering nonsense in your ear, and since then you've changed. I don't recognize you anymore. You're no longer the man I loved, Ivar..." Your words are genuine, your heart full of sorrow.

Still sitting on the bed, Ivar tilts his head. "You... You can't leave me, Y/N. What... What will I do without you?" His quivering voice sends shivers down your spine. But you won't change your mind. This man in front of you, unsure and insecure, is nothing but a ghost of who he once was. The boy you loved is gone. Dead. Killed by his inner demons.

Swallowing, Ivar slowly stands up, and frowns when you step back. "Y/N," he speaks again, reaching out but to no avail as you stubbornly put your hands on your back, "you're the person I don't need to explain myself to – not when it matters. You see everything I am and you don't run away from it. I... I can't do without you."

Your eyes filling with tears, you shake your head. "I can't be this person anymore, Ivar. I've tried, but I can't. I don't know you at all anymore. You've become the monster that people thought you were. You're paranoid, and narcissistic, and self-centered. You're cruel, and mean, and fearsome. I won't lie, sometimes I still see a shadow of the man – the boy – you used to be. But most of the time, what I see in your eyes is something scary and unfamiliar. I have said it before and I will say it again. I don't recognize you anymore, Ivar. I don't know who you are. You've done terrible things, which I cannot and will not forget and forgive. That's why I'm leaving." Pointing to the trunk, you bite the inside of cheek until it bleeds. "I'll send someone to get it later."

Heading out, you don't wait for his answer. There's nothing he can say that is going to change your mind.

Yet, you stop in your tracks when he calls your name, "Y/N!" his voice sounding like a wounded animal. Slowly turning around, you can see a single tear running down his face. "Please..." He begs and it kills you, because Ivar the Boneless doesn’t beg; never begs. For a fleeting moment, your resolve falters. Maybe you can still save your love. Maybe you can bring back the man he was. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe...

And then, a shadow slips between the heavy doors of the great hall and you recognize the thrall. She's undoubtedly beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Flawless.

Without even according you a glance, she walks with a confident stride and as soon as Ivar sees her, you can tell you cease to exist for him. Enthralled, he watches her every step, a sparkle dancing in his eyes.

Tears flow on your cheeks, but it doesn't matter. You were right.

This is the end.

It's like torture but you can't bring yourself to walk away. So, you watch. You see Ivar closing the gap between them, inviting her to sit down, pouring mead into a cup and handing it to her. "How are you? I've been thinking about you." You feel like you're going to throw up as you see the smile on his lips; as you realize how easily he forgot about you.

His next question nearly kills you. "Are you married?"

You can't believe your ears. You can't stay here anymore. You can't breathe.

You don't want to hear her answer. You know what she will say. And at this moment, deep down inside, you know he will marry her. Of course, he will. He will marry her because she will always be willing to whisper in his ear what he wants to hear.

A blond woman, attractive and seemingly submissive – you know better, but Ivar doesn't –swaying her hips... That's all it takes for Ivar to forget you.

You. Can't. Breathe.

You won't die here from a shattered heart, though. Your pride won't allow it. So, stumbling, your head spinning, you walk away, your fist in your mouth to keep you from screaming.

You were right. There's nothing left.

Nothing.

🛡⚔️🛡

@geekandbooknerd @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar fic #ivar imagine #ivar l #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #hayleys2k #no happy ending

271 notes · View notes

author-morgan · 3 years

Note

Hi, i was woundering if you were doing requests and if you are can i request M eivor x F reader, where he finds her crying or she feels down and he comforts her, please.

sorry it took so long, but i hope you enjoy this little drabble! ♥

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

ANOTHER BATCH OF honey cakes ruined. You sigh, watching the crows and songbirds peck at the burnt remains scattered behind the bakery, wondering how much larger their feast will grow before you’ll have something fit to serve your Jarl for the spring feast. Eivor is more than just your Jarl, though. He is one of your dearest friends of many years —and the one person always willing to put his stomach on the line to sample what sweets you craft. Honey cakes happen to be his favorite, and you’ve made them more times than you care to count, but it's as though the gods are against you today.

Sliding another batch into the stone oven, you take to a stool, watching with a keen and focused eye. Not about to let more flour and eggs go to the bad. It’s not but a minute or two later that Tekla appears in the doorway, asking for a hand in rolling one of the mead barrels onto a cart to take to Grantebridge. Thinking it a quick chore, you agree to help, certain you'd return in time to tend the honey cakes. But you should have known it would take longer than what Tekla said —the scent of bread almost to burn fills the air and sends you in panic.

Using the linen of your apron, you grip onto the handle of the cooking pan. It takes a moment before the heat of the metal handle seeps through the thin fabric, though when it does, you drop the pan with a yelp, unable to get the pan to the table. Hands red and blistered, you look down at another ruined batch scattered across the earth and plank floor of the bakery —one final crack in the dam of your resolve, enough to let loose a flood of emotion. It feels silly, crying over burnt sweets, but you can’t help it.

Floorboards creak as someone steps through the doorway. You spare a glance —seeing Sýnin take to pecking at crumbs on the floor before you see him. He slides onto the bench across from you at the table, brows furrowed. and concern written in his clear blue eyes when he notices the tear tracks on your cheeks and the dampness around your eyes you try to hide with a wipe of a sleeve. “Eivor,” you sniffle, finally deciding to sit up and meet his kindly gaze. He doesn’t like to see you in distress, and he especially doesn’t like seeing you cry.

Eivor takes your wrists, seeing how you hold your hands against your chest —knowing you’re hiding something. “Your hands,” he frowns, looking at your red and blistered fingers and palms. You won’t be baking anything else for a little while with those burns, especially if they don’t get cleaned and bandaged. A soft sigh escapes his lips. It won’t be the first time he’s helped patch you from a mishap in the bakery, and —much to his disliking— he knows it probably won’t be the last either. Rising from the bench, he moves around the table. “Come,” he breathes, helping you stand, “let’s get you taken care of.”

He motions for you to sit on his bed in the longhouse while he plunders through chests and small boxes for a roll of linens and one of the Valka’s salves. Eivor kneels before you, pressing a cool, damp rag against one of your hands and then the other. You watch, lips twitching upward at how careful he is, and how mindful he is of the rough spots on his own hands while working. “What were you doing?” The question snaps you from the daze and brings the color of shame rushing to your cheeks.

You look away, biting down on your lip as he spreads the chamomile salve across your other palm. “Wanted to make you some honey cakes,” you admit, not meeting his soft gaze yet, “but kept burning them.” Just the thought of watching the crows feast is enough to make your stomach churn and eyes water. Messing up a recipe you’ve made over and over again for nigh twenty years after the added stresses of helping Randvi and the others during Eivor and Sigurd’s absences was too much.

It’s wrong of him to laugh at your misfortune and distress, but Eivor’s lips tug into a smile, and a soft chuckle escapes his lips. You are too good to him, and he knows it. Tying off a final knot in the second bandage, he wipes his hands on his britches and moves beside you on the bed, draping an arm around your shoulders to draw you into his chest, lips ghosting above your forehead. There’s something about Eivor’s embraces —the warm comfort that makes everything feel like it’ll be okay in the end.

“As much as I love your honey cakes,” he muses, “I’d prefer you not hurt yourself trying to make them.” That shameful flush races up to your cheeks again, but before it can surface, Eivor brushes back messy wisps of hair and leans in, kissing your forehead —his golden beard tickling your cheek and nose. “Besides” –a larger smile twists his lips– “you’re sweet as any honey cake.” Sweeter even.

At one time, you would have said you were immune to Eivor’s flattery, but it's become increasingly difficult as of late to ignore the way his sweet words make you feel —and more than a few times you’ve caught his lingering gaze watching you with an unfamiliar gleam in his clear blue eyes. Eivor may be your dearest friend, but he’s also the man you cannot help but love. “Eivor,” you chide, eyes flitting down to study the linen wrapped around your hands.

Eivor cups your cheek, tilting your chin up so you can see he's being sincere. “Why don’t we make them together?” He proposes, unable to deny a fresh honey cake would be welcome. You lift a brow, a silent challenge. Eivor has helped you bake in the past —taking pans from the oven and scrubbing dishes mostly, but the image of Eivor elbow deep in flour is an amusing one. “You can tell me what to do, and with two sets of eyes, we won’t let them burn.” He smiles, nudging your ribs lightly.

“Deal,” you agree, glad to know you’ll have him all to yourself for the rest of the day. You mean to kiss his cheek in thanks —for tending your burnt hands— instead, you find your lips against Eivor’s and little desire to shy away. He turned his head at the last moment to see you smile, but this was certainly better. In all your foolish daydreams, you’d never been able to imagine how his lips would feel against yours. They are softer than you expected and gentler. You sigh against his parted lips when his fingers trail along your cheek and jaw, slipping back into your hair —not eager to part— and all the reassurance you need to know he feels the same.

[taglist: @angstyoutlaw @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelaen ] if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

#Eivor #Eivor Wolfsmal #Eivor x Reader #m!Eivor #m!Eivor x Reader #male Eivor #male Eivor x Reader #Eivor Imagine #Eivor Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #My writing #requested #maciej098

176 notes · View notes

randomnameless · 3 years

Text

I write and write and make comparisons between a swimsuit and themes like tolerance and freedom,

But in this fandom, some people draw more dubious comparisons, especially ones regarding a certain game - and I warned (who?) at the beginning of the FE16 trend that while it wanted to have a Jugdral flair, it obviously failed. You have a sprinkle of Jugdral in FE16, but it’s only a surface image, or even a mirage.

“CrEsT SyStEM”? Holy Blood? No, those comparisons at least were made in good faith and had some merits.

One of the worst comparisons was noted by several friends, a certain someone, wanting to push a certain ship involving a certain character, managed to write :

“Every route makes one villain from Genealogy of the Holy War the hero, Edelgard being Arvis, Dimitri being Eldigan, Claude being Travant and Rhea being Manfroy”

This will not be a post about Manfroy’s hips, you are warned

Who is Eldigan (Eldie)?

A man who is the carrier of Hezul’s holy blood, Hezul being the founder of Augstria, a sovereign state. Everyone loves Eldie, he is good-looking, strong, kind, chivalrous and has the magic blood that makes him able to use his magic sword.

Is he the King of Agustria? No.

The King is a man named Chagall, who has an ugly sprite, doesn’t have Hezul’s magic blood and cannot use the magic sword. He also killed his father, and is really jealous of Eldie.

However, Eldie’s line (House Nodion) has sworn to support the royal line of Augustria (Chagall’s), so even if everyone wants Eldie to ascend to the throne, he will never accept it. Even if Chagall pisses on him, or imprisons him because he felt like it, Eldie will not rebel against his King. Eldie is seen as a Camus, because he will fight and die for Chagall, and his country, when Sigurd is... more or less attacking Chagall (because Sigurd’s forces are occupying Augstria and Sigurd’s orders are to bring peace to the land, Chagall doesn’t want peace and wants to fight to retake his throne). If everything ends well, Eldie will promise Sigurd he will try to talk one last time his king, try to convince him to accept a ceasefire and peace with Granvalle - but Chagall is an ass and beheads Eldie.

Dimitri... isn’t like Eldigan, at all. First of all, Dimitri is supposed to be the crown Prince, instead of being a mere knight sworn to serve the royal family. Secondly, Dimitri doesn’t die because his liege beheads him - Edelgard will never be his liege - he dies either by defending his borders against someone who is bringing war to his lands and wants his head, or he dies because he pursues Edelgard in a three way battle in Gronder.

We do not know what Rufus is like to his nephew, but I am pretty sure he is no Chagall.

The only common points Eldie and Dimitri have is their blond hair, and sometimes, their manner of death. there is also something about bonds with their sisters but we’re not here for that

Who is Travant?

Travant is the King of the Thracian Kingdom, a proto Nohr-like place, where farming is difficult, and the people living there are starving and often turn to banditry or become mercenaries to be able to earn some money.

Thracia’s neighbour, the Manster District (Manster) could export food to Thracia... but they do not, because, well, the people in charge of the Manster District do not like Thracians a lot (and use slurs to talk about them, but Quan is a special character). So Thracians raid the border, with hopes to reunite the peninsula, with the dream that, one day, they will seize the arable lands in the North.

Travant has an infamous line, which more or less went like “I will unite the peninsula for the sake of my people, and if that process dooms me to hell then so be it”.

And to hell he will go, because by Jugdral standards, ambushing Quan and his family in a desert (horses cannot move in sand, another example of gameplay and story integration!) with horseslayers, is despicable, especially since he leaves no one alive, even, apparently, killing Quan’s young daughter Altena.

(Travant ranks pretty high in the douchebag ladder).

With time, Altena grows, unaware that Travant, who adopted her, isn’t her real Father, Quan was. Things happen, Altena discovers the truth, and Travant finally achieves his dream by making a suicidal charge against Seliph’s forces (he doesn’t even bring his magic lance to the fight!), with him dead, finally, the peninsula can be united under one leader.

Claude? Also has a wyvern. And comes from another land than our hero (but which one?). And... that’s all.

If Almyra raids every sunday, it is not because they are starving, but because they are doing it, per Cyril, for funsies. Claude pretends to be a schemer and underhanded, but he never does something on the scale of the Yied Ambush (the moment where Travant pulled out the horseslayers against Quan). Claude never takes a child hostage, and never orders his daughter to punish civilians.

If Claude wants to unite the two countries, it is not because he wants his people to finally leave their life as mercenaries and bandits behind, but because he wants people to understand each other.

Edit because I’m sleeping : Travant will die for his dream. Claude... always survive. Always. I am not saying he doesn’t believe in it, but he is not as desperate as Travant is.

Comparing Claude to Travant is like comparing... Virion to Iago. They are both male with long hair, and pretend to scheme. Bar that? Well... they both have hands...? I guess?

Who is Manfroy?

Manfroy is... both a mastermind and a plothole.

Manfroy was the one in the shadows engineering a war in Jugdral, not because he likes wars, nope, but because he wanted political instability to recreate the Loptyr Empire.

He will help a douchebag to conquer the world, and use him to sire Julius, the only person in Jugdral who can become a host for the dark dragon Loptyr. The last time Loptyr was there... well, apparently it wasn’t roses and sunshines, slavery was rampant and citizens were pitted against each other to make sure the strongest ones would become citizens of the Empire.

Why Manfroy does this? It depends on the sources, but it is heavily implied Manfroy is part of a sect (sect as in group of people practicing a religion, here the Loptyr religion/cult) persecuted by a lot of people in Jugdral - to the point where Agustrians were having witches hunts to chase them. Manfroy and his followers escaped the the Yied desert, touted to be an inhospitable land. His people had no where and no one to turn to, so they prayed to their God Loptyr (who doesn’t give 3 figs about them).

Manfroy is thus the Archbishop of the Loptyr Church. He also killed his son in law, for some reason, and planned to turn his granddaughter in a zombie. Manfroy also supports (and conducts?) the child hunts, basically the plot in the second part of FE4 and FE5 where the Granvalle Empire and the members of the Loptyr Church round up children, take them from their families (sometimes by killing said families) to send them to Granvalle, with the highly suggested goal of sacrificing them one way or another to Loptyr.

On the not-so bright side, Manfroy doesn’t kill Julia - when Loptyr/Julius expressly asking him to do so, because Julia is the only person, story-wise, able to kill him.

What a guy!

Now, Rhea?

There are some comparisons to be made, unlike Claude and Dimitri, but again, it reinforces how they could be seen as foils.

Rhea? Yes, also engineers the birth of a vessel.

However, unlike Manfroy who “forced” Arvis and Deirdre to marry and have a baby, Byleth’s birth, born from the union of Jeralt and Sitri, was completely unexpected. There is no trace in canon of Rhea arranging Jeralt and Sitri’s meeting, and future wedding.

Rhea? Also wants her granddaughter to “die”?

Well, not this one, since Rhea thinks Billy is actually an amnesiac Sothis. Billy would just recover their memories.

Rhea? Doesn’t start a war to build her Sothis vessel. Hell, the DLC is about her previous experiment to resurrect her mother - it was a failure, but someone supposes she fails because she did not want to bleed dry the Four Apostles. Rhea wishes to resurrect a benevolent Goddess (when Manfroy knows Loptyr is... far from benevolent) but will not kill to do so.

Sitri? Asked her to save Billy, by offering her own life.

The most interesting foil though is... how Rhea and Manfroy both belong to a community that was persecuted by others, the people they are supposed to live with.

Manfroy? Went the “if the world hates me, then I will hate it and burn it down” route.

Rhea? Doesn’t want to kill humans, hell, she and her brother disagreed because she didn’t want to kill children of the people who wronged her! She opens a monastery and offers guidance to anyone who needs it, a shelter for the needy and tries her best to protect peace and the humans living under her care.

They could have followed the same path, but didn’t. Manfroy rounds children to kill them, Rhea offers a new home to children who lost theirs.

They can also be compared with their “welp” points, Rhea gave CF!Billy the means to destroy her, just like Manfroy “forgot” to kill Julia - and yet, again, it is different. Rhea trusted Billy and never wanted to use them as a tool, in the other routes, it is because she trusted Billy with “those means” that Billy is able to save the world. Manfroy? Berserks Julia, wishes to use her as a tool and suffers when she regains some agency and beats her brother. But even without Manfroy, Julia would have recovered the Book of Naga to end Loptyr.

Rhea and Manfroy are definitely not parallels, but foils.

And the best for the end...

Who is Arvis?

Well... to summarise Arvis in a few words...

it’s impossible.

So, Arvis is the descendant of one Jugdral’s God-Crusader, Fjalar. Arvis is very proud of his heritage, but he also bears Loptyr blood, through his Mother. And yet, since the Loptry blood exists thanks to Saint Maira - the brother of the Loptry Host of that time, Emperor Galle, who rebelled and helped the Crusaders - he is also very proud of this heritage and his two brands.

Arvis’s familial history is a mess, his father was a womanizer and his mother abandoned him (which might have fueled his Freudian complex?). When his Father died, he exiled all of his bastard siblings, bar Azelle (his bastard half-brother, sired to his mother’s favorite maid). Arvis apparently wasn’t interested in women before he met Deirdre and fell in love with her...

But he had time to sire a bastard (on his best friend and confidante).

Arvis wants to build a world free of prejudice and oppression, and wants to build it by... associating with Manfroy, who blackmails him about his Loptyr blood (if Arvis is proud of his Loptry blood, sadly the Agustrian witch hunts are still a thing, and it will not be well seen in Granvalle’s nobility); however, he made it clear, to Manfroy himself, that he will never allow another Loptry Empire to be reborn. Arvis thus uses hiw fellow Dukes Reptor and Langobalt to set up a coup against Prince Kurth (the Prince of Granvalle) to kill him. Arvis grows close to Kurth’s father, Azmur and more or lesses takes care of everything in Granvalle, since Kurth has no heir left.

And, by chance, Deirdre, Kurth’s bastard daughter, thus rightful Princess of Granvalle, appears at his door. She bears the mark of Naga (the special blood of the Crusader Heim), so they marry, and if they have a son, their son will rule over Granvalle, Arvis acts as a regent until then.

(women can’t rule shit in Jugdral)

Then what? His plan is set into motion, all Granvalle Dukes die, he and Sigurd (plus his pals) are the only ones left, Sigurd dies after being lured to a welcoming party, and Arvis becomes the last man standing able to rule Granvalle, who became, through his plans and treacheries through the 1st gen, an Empire.

(and then his son becomes a Loptyr host, vaporises his mom and makes his sister disappear, wrestles power from him and he is reduced to a sad state (oldvis). He makes a last stand against Seliph, after delivering him Sigurd’s magic sword, and dies.)

Okay.

So, now, Edel.

Arvis managed to become the ruling... person in Granvalle by eliminating all of his rivals, and securing a nice marriage. Edel becomes Emperor... because Ionius gave her his crown, as her father.

So they do not rise to power the same way.

Edel never talks about her brands, but Arvis is proud to bear them and proud of his ancestors. Judging by how Edel speaks of Wilhelm I as a traitor who sold humanity to creatures, I am not sure she is proud to bear his blood.

Also, while Edelgard is extremely prejudiced against Nabateans, Arvis wishes to create a world... free of prejudice (his actions though...). He does not mind Manfroy preaching his stuff, when Edelgard will not allow anyone to follow the Seiros faith (friends put it better, but in several routes, the people who were followers of the Church of Seiros are missing in Adrestia...).

While both Edel and Arvis think they are making “sacrifices” for the greater good, as pointed out earlier, this greater good is different. They both ally with a death cult, but Arvis is naive enough to think Manfroy will not backstab him - he even wishes for him to preach his nonsense freely. Edelgard has been hell bent since day 1 on getting rid of Thales and friends.

By the time Arvis learns of the child hunts and Julius’s nonsense... he wants to stop it. He is however powerless to do so (or so we think! Apparently he and Ishtar managed to hide every children captured in a castle!) but, at least, he tried to do something.

Crest Beasts... are still used, no matter the path, and even after Edelgard became Emperor.

Now, if Manfroy had to capture children and round them up for execution to make sure Arvis would become Emperor, would Arvis have supported him? I... don’t think so. If children were captured during Arvis’s conquest of the world and it was a “necessary evil”, would Arvis have accepted it? We don’t know. Prideful as he is, I don’t think he would have agreed.

(which is all kinds of wrong, the man can start wars and backstab friends, allies and turn his own brother to ashes, but hunting children is too much? Meh. And yet, Manfroy mentions something about his ways and his pride being an obstacle to the realisation of his dream).

Arvis is... a complicated character. A douchebag through and through, who tries to redeem himself at the end, but ultimately fails. He is rewarded for his actions in the 1st gen by the 2nd gen, where Julius becomes Loptyr and destroys his Empire. He had it coming? Yes. Is it painful to watch? Yes.

Edelgard... does not face any retribution for her actions.

Yes, she can also kill her (step) brother. But either she didn’t remember it, or only cries after it, and ultimately puts the blame on him - so it is not a sacrifice ?

People doubt her words? Well, it doesn’t matter, Linhardt, Yuri and Lysithea are still alive after their... interrogations. Reptor doubted Arvis’s words? Aida was sent as back-up (and... backstabbed him).

Ultimately, Arvis loses Deirdre (whose ghost chills with Sigurd’s), Julia and Julius, whom he loved dearly. Edel loses... Billy, and some randoms.

So, in a way, Edel feels like a discount Arvis, because she misses his ascension to power and his downfall. Arvis doesn’t mow down enemies on the front lines like she is doing, Arvis maneuvers to ensure victory.

Both fight for ideals, but Arvis seems to believe in them when I cannot believe a world for “humanity” involves continuous making of Crest Beasts.

Both betray the main character, but Edelgard is hit with the uwu hammer, thus cannot kill Billy - Thales does it in the non CF-routes.

So... short story, long story, Eldie is not Dimitri, Claude is not Travant, Rhea is a foil to Manfroy and Edelgard is a discount Arvis.

Also, I don’t know what kind of weed the person who wrote this take had, but labeling Eldie as one of FE4′s villain is as dumb as labeling FE7 Karla a villain because she appears as a red unit you have to fight.

where is edel’s bastard son

31 notes · View notes