#ivar fem reader

[multific]

What the Gods Will Mend

Ivar the Boneless x Reader

Summary: You married a man who didn’t love you, but you chose to love him anyway. Through quiet care and devotion, you gave him healing he never thought possible.

You were not the wife he wanted.

You knew it the moment Queen Aslaug placed your hand in Ivar’s before the gods. You felt it in the stiffness of his grip, in the way he looked through you and not at you.

“A union blessed by the gods,” Aslaug had said, smiling gently at her son. “She is clever, gentle. She will be good for you, Ivar.”

Ivar did not reply.

He only walked away from the wedding fire when the ritual ended, leaving you alone among the ash and shadows.

And yet, you stayed.

You were his wife now. You were bound to him.

Even if he hated you.

He ignored you most days. Barely spoke to you unless forced. When he did, his words were sharp and cold, meant to push you away.

Still, you watched him. Quietly.

The way pain twisted his features in the morning. The tremble in his hands when he forced his legs into motion. The anger he swallowed, the shame he masked with cruelty.

You saw it all. And your heart ached.

Because, unlike him, you wanted this marriage.

You had admired him for years.

Not just his mind or his fierce spirit, but the way he carried himself despite the world’s cruelty.

You saw a man carved by pain, and you longed to soften its edges. To help him heal.

So you sought out old healing texts. Spoke to volvas in secret.

Traded furs for rare herbs. Brewed tinctures to strengthen bones, to ease pain, to mend where time had been unkind.

And every night, you added it to his drink.

Quietly. Carefully.

You knew he wouldn’t accept it if he knew.

It happened on a stormy night.

He came home from the training fields, soaked and furious, dragging mud into the hall.

You had already prepared his food, placed the warm cup of brew beside it as always.

You smiled, ready to leave him in peace.

But his eyes were already on you.

“What is this?” he snapped, lifting the cup. “You give me this every night. Do you think I don’t notice?”

Your breath caught. He was holding it like it was poison.

“It's nothing. Just herbs, to help you rest-”

He threw the cup against the wall. It shattered, making you flinch.

“Do not lie to me,” he growled. “Are you trying to kill me, Wife? Is that how much you hate being mine?”

His voice was venom. His hatred, a sword.

You swallowed hard. Your hands trembled, but you didn’t back down.

“It’s not poison,” you said quietly. “It’s medicine. For your legs.”

He stared at you. Something in his eyes cracked.

“What?”

“I asked the volvas. Searched scrolls from the East. It's a mixture of roots and silverleaf, it's meant to help rebuild strength in damaged bones. You’ve been in less pain lately, haven’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

You stepped closer.

“I just wanted to help. I know you didn’t want this marriage. You don’t even like me. But I still see you. And I care. Even if you never… feel the same.”

Silence fell.

The storm outside raged, but in the hall, it was still.

Ivar looked at you, truly looked at you, for the first time since your wedding night.

“You’ve been doing this… for how long?”

“Since the second week we wed.”

He lowered his gaze. You saw the war in him, between pride and pain, between mistrust and something softer.

“You are a fool,” he said. But his voice had lost its edge. “A stubborn, strange little fool.”

You turned to leave, swallowing your humiliation.

“Wait.”

You stopped.

He rose from his bench with difficulty, but stood nonetheless. He looked at you, blue eyes unreadable.

“I’ve been walking farther. I thought it was the gods.” A pause. “You’re the one who did it.”

You nodded slowly.

He stepped toward you.

“Why?”

Your voice was barely a whisper. “Because I love you.”

The words stunned the air.

He didn’t speak. He only looked at you, and for the first time, you saw no hatred in his eyes. Only confusion, and something like awe.

He reached for your hand, his fingers trembling.

“Sit with me,” he said. “Stay tonight.”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

That night, for the first time, Ivar did not eat alone. And when you touched his hand beneath the firelight, he didn’t pull away.

The fire crackled low, and outside, the rain turned soft, tapping gently on the roof like the gods themselves were listening.

You sat beside him, closer than ever before, your hands folded in your lap, unsure of what to say now that you’d spoken the truth.

You had confessed love to a man who never once gave you kindness.

But tonight… he had not turned away.

Ivar’s eyes were unreadable, but they didn’t look through you anymore. They held you.

“How long have you loved me?” he asked, voice quiet as the flames.

You hesitated, but answered honestly. “Since before the wedding. I admired your strength. Your cleverness. The way you held your head high when the world gave you every reason not to.”

He looked away at that, jaw tight. “You saw something good in me. Even when I couldn’t.”

You nodded.

“And yet I treated you like the enemy.”

You gave him a soft smile, one born of pain, not pity. “You were protecting yourself. I understand.”

He exhaled through his nose. Then, after a long silence:

“No one has ever done what you’ve done for me. Not like that. Not in secret. Not without asking for something in return.”

You turned toward him. “I didn’t want anything. Just… for you to be in less pain.”

He looked at you then, and something cracked open behind his gaze.

“Come here,” he murmured.

Slowly, cautiously, you moved toward him.

Ivar shifted with effort, wincing as he opened his arms, awkwardly at first, as if the gesture were unfamiliar. And perhaps it was. You had never touched more than his hand or shoulder since the wedding.

But now…

You moved into his embrace.

He wrapped his arms around you, hesitantly at first… then tightly. Desperately. As if the idea of being held like this might break him, but also save him.

His forehead pressed into your neck, and you felt it.

The tremble.

The breath he was holding.

The surrender.

“I don’t know how to love,” he whispered, voice cracking. “But I want to try.”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t have to know how,” you whispered. “Just let it happen. We’ll find the way together.”

His eyes searched yours for a long, breathless moment.

And then—he kissed you.

It was not rough or hurried like you'd imagined it might be. It was soft. Curious. Full of unfamiliar tenderness. The kiss of a man learning, trusting, hoping.

And when he finally pulled away, his hands stayed on your face like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you replied. “I always have been.”

That night, you didn’t lie on opposite sides of the bed like you had for so long. You curled into him, warm under furs, his arm wrapped around you protectively. He fell asleep with his face in your hair, breathing you in.

And for the first time since your wedding, he didn’t wake from nightmares.

He only dreamed of you.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[imtryingbuck]

The queens daughter.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Ivar Ragnarsson x fem!Reader

Summary: Ivar falls in love with a woman without even getting to know her, yet her mum is the woman he hates more than anything.

Word count: 1,672

Warnings: slight angst. fluff. doesn’t necessarily follow the series.

A/N: thank you for the request🤍

Masterlist

Lagertha was now queen. A constant reminder of that fact was the many shieldmaidens she had brought with her to Kattegat.

Despite how much he hated the woman who killed his dear mother in cold blood, he couldn’t complain about the new women setting up home around him. One in particular caught his eye. He truly thought that Freya herself had created this woman, he had never seen such beauty before. He would sit on the steps of the Great Hall with his eyes trained on her as she moved through the market with a sweet smile on her lips as she greeted those around her.

For a month he kept watching her, and whilst never knowing her name he fell in love with her.

The Great Hall was packed with people celebrating Bjorn’s safe return from the Mediterranean, Ivar watched as Lagertha’s face lit up and the softest smile replace the straight line her lips had been in for as long as he was watching her, curious to what made her smile he followed her eye-line. Bjorn, nothing special about him, he thought to himself. Bjorn with his arms wrapped around a woman, he frowned - he didn’t realise that his oldest brother had a new wife.

But then the woman turns to face Lagertha, it was the woman from the market.

He was pretty sure everyone could hear his heart break.

Of course the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on was with his brother. Even if he had never gained the courage to speak to her, of course she chose his brother over him.

He sits there with his blunt nails digging into the arm of his chair watching as Bjorn presses a sweet kiss to her forehead, a smile taking residence on her lips as she walks up the Lagertha. Rolling his eyes as the oldest of Ragnar’s sons makes his way over to his younger brothers with a smirk on his lips. “What’s with the sour look?”

Ubbe shook his head - a grin making a way on his lips, Hvitserk shrugged and brought his cup to his mouth, Sigurd didn’t even bother to look up. “Who is that?” Ivar asked.

“Who?”

“That woman you were talking to.”

“My sister.” He shrugs, grabbing a cup and downing the mead.

All four of them looked up at Bjorn with questioning looks on their faces. “Gyda? Father said she died.” Ubbe finally spoke.

“Yes she did. That’s Y/n.”

“You have another sister? Is she Ragnar’s?”

Chuckling, Bjorn shook his head. “No, her father is Kalf.”

“And Lagertha is her mum?” Hvitserk asked.

“No.” The oldest said with sarcasm. “Of course Lagertha is her mum.”

As his brothers talked Ivar kept his eyes on her watching as she laughed along with her mum and Astrid - the thought of this woman who he had fallen in love with was the daughter of the same woman who had murdered his mother made him feel sick, yet oddly enough he wanted to see what would happen if he confessed his feelings to her.

He was Ivar the Boneless. He was the son of Ragnar Lothbrok. He was the son of Aslaug Sigurdsdottir. So why was he so nervous to walk up to Y/n? He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even realise that she was walking up to him until she was right in front of him. “Hi.”

“H-hello.”

“Are you okay?”

“Why?”

She shrugs, picking at the handle of her sword that’s attached to her hip. “You seem conflicted.”

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you don’t know whether you're going left or right.” He frowns at her - his eyes rolling as she grins. “It’s a hard decision I’ll admit, left or right - who can decide?”

“You're hilarious.” He deadpans. “What do you want?”

“Thank you and nothing, just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh okay.” Kicking a stone lightly watching as people walked quickly past them with their heads downwards. “I- I’m sorry for your loss.”

Scoffing, his bright blue eyes scanning her form up and down. “Your mother killed mine and you're saying sorry?”

“I didn’t know what my mum was planning, I swear.”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“I guess not but I’m still sorry.”

“Where is your father?”

“Dead.” She says with a shrug. “Mum killed him.”

“She killed your father?”

“Yeah, but he had it coming.” Moving over to the steps leading to the blacksmiths, she patted the space next to her - smiling softly when he moved to sit next to her. “It happened before I was born so obviously I didn’t know him but Bjorn told me the truth after mum lied to me.”

Twiddling with the loose string on his gloves he frowns at her. “What did she lie about?”

“She told me he was a good man, and that he died from an illness. She thought she was protecting me from the truth, I understand, I guess.” Smiling at some of the shieldmaidens that walked by heading towards the training grounds, she carries on. “But it was Bjorn that told me the truth one night when I asked him about my father.”

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She grins up at him. “I don’t blame my mum for what she did.”

From that moment onwards the two would be seen together almost everyday, spending their days either in the woods or the beach away from prying eyes and talking about everything and anything. Ivars eyes would roll at her when she would try to sneak up on him and jump over him, always asking with a grin if she scared him.

Bjorn had started to notice the way Ivars eyes lit up everytime Y/n entered the great hall. Ubbe was the one who noticed that Ivar was trying to control his anger - especially when Y/n was around. Hvitserk quickly noticed that Ivar was quick to shut him down whenever he spoke of Y/n, and Sigurd… he didn’t care for either one of them.

When it came to her daughter Lagertha was overbearing. She knew this herself. Y/n knew this. Even Bjorn knew this. But she had already lost one daughter, she wasn’t going to do it again, she knew every aspect of her daughter's life. So it didn’t come to a surprise when she began to suspect that something was going on between Y/n and Ivar.

“Hello flower.” Wrapping her arms around her daughter, she presses a kiss to her head.

“Hi mum.”

Taking a seat next to her youngest, she watches as Y/n pushes her food around the plate - clearly uninterested in her meal. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Does this have anything to do with Ivar?” Y/n’s eyes snap up to her mothers, her mouth opening and closing before lowering her head. “I take that as a yes. Has he hurt you?”

“No! No he hasn’t.”

“So what’s got you upset, my pretty girl?”

“I like him but I know it’s wrong.” She rushes out. “We have the same brother-”

“Different parents.”

“It’s still wrong though isn’t it?”

“Does it feel wrong?”

“No… not really.”

“Then it’s not.” Placing her hands on Y/n’s she smiles softly. “Does he feel the same?”

Her cheeks instantly turned bright red. The memory of them two in the woods flashed through her eyes.

Ivar was picking at the stick in his hands as Y/n sat to his left creating a daisy chain, the pair sat in comfortable silence as Ivars bright blue eyes went from the stick to her face - a grin on his lips as he watches her tongue poke out as she concentrates on the task at hand.

“Y/n…”

“Yes?”

“I- I like you.”

Her head snapped up at this. His eyes focused on the tree in front of them as she stared at him. “Are- are you serious?”

“Yes, unfortunately for you the cripple likes y-”

She cuts him off by pressing her lips to his.

“Darling?” Lagertha's soft voice snaps her out of the memory. A subtle grin on her lips. “Does he?”

“Yes, and we kissed.”

The blonde haired queen smiles softly once more, tucking in a few stray hairs behind Y/n’s ear. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Standing with a soft groan she presses a kiss to her daughters forehead. “Goodnight flower.”

Bjorn wasn’t too pleased to see his sister - who he still saw her as a baby much to her annoyance - sitting very close to Ivar. Lagertha rolled her eyes at him as he gripped his cup tighter and tighter when Ivar placed a kiss to Y/n’s lips.

“They’re married Bjorn, they’ll be doing much more than kiss-”

“Don’t.” Her oldest child grumbled. “That’s my sister and brother you are talking about, I don’t want that image in my head.”

Four months prior, Ivar walked into the great hall with his head held high as he locked eyes with Lagertha. “Queen Lagertha, I’m here to ask for your blessing to marry Y/n.”

Y/n choked on her mead, Ubbe rubbing her back as Hvitserk and Sigurd laughed as she spat the liquid out. And Bjorn sat there still as a statue. She had no idea he was going to ask her mum for her blessing, they had only spoken once about marriage and that was when her mum was receiving letters of marriage proposals.

“You wish to marry my daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

A celebration was held for the newly engaged couple.

Two months after their marriage Ivar had finally forgiven his mother in law for murdering his mother after the pair had a heart to heart one night.

Several months after that, Y/n and Ivar happily told their family that they were expecting their first child. Everyone was extremely happy, even Bjorn… after a while.

“I love you Y/n.” Ivar whispered one night as they laid in bed together.

“And I love you Ivar.”

Tags: @cheesesandwichsanto

[angeldoll2000]

Play Me a Tragedy

Dark!Ivar x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +2416

Warning(s): +18, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Mentions of past non con, Raiding, Forced pregnancy.

Author's Note(s): Y'all should know by now I'm all for the dramatics.

You and your husband, King Ivar, have been invited to a play. Accompanied by your children to celebrate your wedding anniversary. Filled with entertainment, games, and a feast. But it wasn't just any day, no. This was the day your entire world fell apart. When you were taken from your home, and everyone you loved. All to celebrate what was you considered to be the worst day of your life.

There had been stories told throughout the feast. Every last one of them stroked your husband's never-ending ego. Within only a few years, Ivar had gained a large mass of devoted followers who were willing to die for him and his cause. With that kind of power given to a mad man such as himself, of course it would go to his head.

Ivar convinced the people of Kattegat of his new world order. That if they follow him and him only would they achieve Valhalla. It was more a cult if anything. He made his people believe that you were his very own 'deity'. He claimed that you were made especially for him by the gods. That the two of you were destined for one another, as a way for Ivar to justify his actions. Even after being given the title of 'Queen', you had no say in politics. You were a glorified broodmare. There wasn't a single day that passed where Ivar wouldn't claim ownership over you. He would dress you himself in the finest silks and jewels during the day. By nigh. he would ravage you until the morning.

After the birth of your first child, you had finally broken. Willingly following his orders, knowing that there would be no one else to protect you and your child. Ivar was glad to claim you were finally his. Body and soul. Now proven with his cub. He would remind you everyday to be grateful that it was him who found you first. In his own words, "Who knows how it would end with any other man, this is what's best for you.", That you should be thanking him. Deep down you knew if it were another warrior, they'd tear you apart. After all, it was your husband's status that gave you access to such a luxurious life. A gilded cage fit for a queen.

Today he was obnoxiously louder than usual. His voice booms throughout the dining hall. The entertainers had saved the best story for last. 'A Tale of a Fallen Kingdom.' they called it. There were actors in costume to represent Ivar and his warriors. It only took a moment to realize which day they were reenacting.

The narrator clears his voice before beginning, "Five years ago, to this day..." he states, "King Ivar and his men visit a Kingdom, untouched by war and plague." it was then when the crowd decided to spew their distaste towards your people. Spewing insults and curses at your country's flag. Your brows furrow as your eyes widen. Had that much time really pass? Surely it hadn't been that long...it felt as though you'd been 'married' for almost a decade. But then again only a year with Ivar felt like forever.

It was almost unreal how accurate their clothes were. It had been a while since you'd seen someone dressed in your people's clothes. From the stage setup, to the costume design. It was like a memory had been extracted and put on display. You tear up at the sight of it. Truly missing your home more than ever. Part of you wasn't sure your family were still alive. There was a young maiden dressed in modest clothing. Not just any garb no, it was specifically designed for a lady in waiting. A title you were given from being the general's daughter. There your character stood, following the other meek women of the royal court.

You were portrayed as a ditzy, clumsy little thing. Who couldn't fend to save her life. Scoffing at the display, you turn to face Ivar who had found it all amusing. You roll your eyes. Did he truly find this mockery entertaining? It was obviously a political tool. Then your mind began racing. Was this truly how the people of Kattegat view you? That you were willing to betray your own people so easily. All to become Ivar's own personal whore. Your blood began to boil. This wasn't a love story but a tragedy. The young man dressed as Ivar lets out a triumphant laugh. Your counterpart had depicted you as an absolute moron, who craved the attention of a man that would give a second glance.

You scoff at the display. Out of all your ladies in court, you were the most educated. That's how you captured Ivar's interest. He had been fascinated by your intelligence. It was rare for women in your kingdom to seek an education, let alone willingly. Your parents supported you furthering your studies alongside the men. No one would question their general's only child.

Ivar used to sneak in a few pieces of literature for you to read. The next time he summoned you was for a game of chess. To his surprise you'd beaten him, his entire demeanor had shifted. He partially blames himself for underestimating a woman of these lands. But then again, not many were educated here. It was at the moment where his final decision was made, he had to have you.

Soon enough the audience follows with boisterous laughs. 'Ivar' releases his crutches before making an exaggerated dive for the woman. She squeals, "No no~you handsome heathen!" squealing as the man began to 'ravage' her. You felt a deep pit of despair, falling ill at the sight of their performance. Ivar on the other hand, was ecstatic. He indulged in the portrayal of himself, covering the growing smirk behind his cup. As the narrator continues, "How will the poor maiden survive such a world?" announcing it to the crowd.

It was then when the women clings onto 'Ivar' as if her life depended on it, "Please! King Ivar! Take me! Take me away from this boring life! Make a woman of me!" the woman boasts as she rips her blouse open, "I'm yours!" She lifts her skirts in a seductive manner. You felt sick to your stomach. This is not what happened, not at all. You had a life, a family that you were taken from.

You remember clawing at his face, hard enough to break skin. Ivar hisses from the sting. He lifts your shoulders and slams you against the ground. You felt dizzy from the impact. Air escaping your lungs as you cough to catch breath. Your vision blurs for a moment before realizing he'd already ripped through your blouse. He skillfully cuts through the garment, lifting your skirts to make way.

You despised Ivar's efforts at keeping a heroic image in public. Angry tears fell down your face. Because you, of all people, knew the truth. You have scars to bear with. From the leather bindings that burned into your wrists during that cursed wedding night, to the following months after. How he'd bound you to bed like an animal, until he was sure you were with child.

Ivar chuckles at your eldest son's discomfort. Seeing his parents being depicted as very passionate lovers. He rubs his head, "Someday you will also become a man." causing the four year old to gag. Ivar doesn't wince when your second born sits on his lap. She adores her father. Of course it was easy being the apple of his eye, and at times, she uses it to her advantage.

Every time you'd scold her, she'd run into her father's arms. You on the other hand despised his efforts at keeping a heroic image. When it was clear as day he was not to be trusted. The same hands that held your daughter close, were used to slaughter hundreds.

Seeing such a mockery being displayed to your children made your heart shatter. Tears began to trickle as you sob in silence. Your daughter notices and leaves her father to comfort you. Ivar is too absorbed into the play to pay attention. He lets out a boastful laugh, clutching his sides as the crowd roaring continues. It was during the king's coronation when the Northmen attacked.

Ivar and his men raided the other surrounding kingdoms. As a peace offering they were invited to the ceremony. Little did your leader know what sinister actions would play out. Ivar and the young king had been in talks for a peace treaty.

You held your girl close, shielding her from the next scene. It was the day he had taken you.

You and the other maidens just so happened to pass by the dining hall. It was at that moment when Ivar swore time itself had stopped. He had been mesmerized by your presence. You, a noble maiden had captured the heathen king's heart.

For the entire evening he hadn't cared for anyone's attention but yours. Ordering you to halt everything to give the King your attention. His obsession was obvious to everyone but you. He followed you around like a love-sick puppy. To the point where the King himself appointed you as his foreign advisor.

Ivar had tried everything to woo you. From the promises of riches, to land, to the title of noblewoman. All of which you politely declined. Stating that you were happy with you life the way it was. Part of you knew he wouldn't stop until you gave him the attention he so desperately craved. So much so that he decides to take matters into his own hands.

Suddenly the stage began to erupt with an array of ribbons thrown into the air. To symbolize the arrows lit aflame. Flashes of that night came to you in small doses. You're no longer in Kattegat but now residing in your kingdom, before it was burned to the ground. You could see what was once your home, burning right before your very eyes. Hearing the echoes of your people's screams. The day your life changed forever.

There Ivar was, crawling towards you as you ran for the door. "Help! Help me! Someone please!" you ran as fast as you could. The gates began to close. There was not a moment to waste. You ran because your life depended on it. But it was too late, the guards on the other side began to pull harder for the gate to close. Soon enough it had shut.

You slam it as hard as you can. Until your fists began to bruise, "Please! Someone help me! I'm the commander's daughter! Please!" taking a breath loud enough so that they can hear you, "Don't leave me!" sobbing against the metal doors. As you turn around to find Ivar had caught up with you. He grins from ear to ear covered in blood from the fallen soldiers. With a look in his eyes that said: You're mine.

On the other side of the border your father and his men fought to defend the kingdom's last line of defense. "Sir!" a solider ushers for your father, who scolds him, "Not now boy!" he swings his sword at a heathen climbing the walls. But the man insists, "It's your daughter." causing the general to halt, "What is it boy?!"

"She's missing."

"What has happened?!"

"She left for the market this morning."

Those words alone made his blood run cold, "No..." It was that day when your father had made the ultimate sacrifice. Either let the gates down and weaken the kingdom's last defense, or lose his only child. Soon enough, Ivar had already reached the gates, halting his army from furthering. He demands to speak with your father to make a deal, “General, will you let me wed your daughter?”

He scowls at such a command, “When it rains fire.”

Ivar hums, nodding at the man's proclaim, “So let it be.” He raises his arms in the air, signaling for his warriors to shoot. Hundreds of arrows are lit aflame and shot into the sky. It took three days and nights until your kingdom had finally surrendered. Ivar had won. Your kingdom had lost.

This was the ‘Great love story’ of King Ivar and his queen. Your remember the pain and betrayal felt was immeasurable. Those strong feelings from years ago all came down at once. Like something inside of you had finally tipped over. You finally reach your breaking point, bowing your head in shame. Crying to yourself as your daughter tries her best to comfort you. But her soft heart could no longer take the sight of her mother weeping, as she wraps her arms around you and cries.

It catches the attention of your husband. It was then when his mood had shifted. He couldn’t help but feel like a deep pit had been dug in his belly. Ivar swishes the ale in his mouth, swallowing it as if it were bitter.

He sighs, standing up from his seat, “Halt!” he commands. The room goes silent. There isn’t so much as a whisper. Ivar gathers the actors, lining them up in a row for interrogation. He orders the guards to bring the writer responsible for the play. Soon enough, a timid man is put on stage. It was then when you had to beg your husband to spare his life. Ivar lets out a huff, "You should be thanking my wife for sparing you. Don't let it happen again." with that the celebration had come to an end.

You left as fast as you could. Sending your children off to their rooms before returning to your dreadful marital chambers. You ready yourself for bed, hoping that Ivar would return much later. When you hear his footsteps approaching you don't bother to look him in the eye. You help your husband remove his leg braces; since he's only ever let you do it.

When the two of you are finally in bed, Ivar reaches for your waist. He wraps his arms around your body as he held your bodies together. He presses his nose against the top of your hair, whispering, "It was the gods who led me to you my love..." he sighs, breathing in your scent. He hums, "The healers have already informed me." he brushes his hand flat against your mid drift. He feels for the swell of your under belly, one of his favorite things to do. If he could stay like this forever, he would. Ivar reassures you with soft whispers, "There there my love, it is in the past..." as he gently wipes the tears away, cooing as you cried the rest of the night in his arms.

[hoteldreamss]

Ivar the Boneless || imagine

Метки: гостинг (полагаю), влюблённость, немного ангст.

Слов: 2 211

Он знает, что женщины не смотрят на него как на мужчину. Люди либо проявляют к нему жалость, либо отвращение, поэтому чувствовать их страх перед ним стало усладой для Ивара. С тобой это не прошло. Ты не чувствовать к нему неприязни, не проявляла излившей жалости, не презирала его. Ты была дружелюбна с ним, но не излишне, не так будто жалела, скорее как родная сестра. Но ты не его сестра, и как только вы перешли из подросткового возраста в более зрелый, его браться тоже заметили твою привлекательность.

Это сделало Ивара ревнивым.

— Почему Т/И не приходит за тобой больше? — голос Сигурда с утра пораньше заставляет Ивара проклинать целый день, даже если тот ещё не начался.

— Она приходит.

— Я тоже давно её не видел у нас, — произносит Хвитсерк невзначай ни сразу понимая, что подкидывает дрова в разгорающийся костёр.

— Она наверное наконец поняла, что он хочет от неё не только дружбы и решила бросить его.

Слова Сигурда режут Ивара, и гнев затмевает его разум. Его брат не прав. Ты до сих пор с ним общаешься, даже если меньше, даже если Ивару это не нравится. Но ты всё ещё его друг, даже если он знает, что любит тебя совершенно не как сестру или друга.

— Заткнись, ты ничего не знаешь! — импульсивно произносит Ивар.

— Я знаю, что твоя дорогая Т/И ищет себе мужа. Её отец хочет сыграть свадьбу, чтобы она не смогла уехать в рейды, если надумает.

Ивар не хочет показывать своего удивления, даже если он не знал ничего из сказанного Сигурдом.

Но кажется Хвитсерк ловит его мимолётное удивление, но в этот раз ничего не говорит. Хотя в его голове есть несколько мыслей.

***

Ивар надеялся найти тебя на тренировочном поле. Ты приходишь сюда, когда его братья этого не делают. Натягивая тетиву лука ты стараешься дышать ровно, но мыслить быстро. На битве не будет времени сосредотачиваться.

— Ты стала лучше стрелять, — его голос разносится, как только ты попадёшь в подвешенную оленью голову, прямо между глаз.

Твои губы растягиваются в улыбке. Он стал тише в своих попытках подбираться к тебе, но всё ещё не достаточно, чтобы ты удивилась его присутствию за спиной.

— Полагаю, ты также хорош в стрельбе? — произносишь ты, опустив лук и развернувшись к своему другу. Он забрался на пень, смотря на тебя с игривым блеском.

— Хочешь проверить?

— Нет. — Ты направляешься к нему. — Я верю тебе.

С его лица не сползает улыбка, его взгляд блестит и не отрывается от тебя.

— Твой будущий муж был бы удивлён твоим навыкам стрельбы? — интересуется Ивар, пока что, стараясь звучать без доли обиды и ревности.

Неловко усмехнувшись, ты стараешься подумать о правильных словах.

— Не знаю... ты мне скажи, ты был бы удивлён? — это так легко срывается с твоих губ, заставляя собственные щёки покраснеть, но к счастью для себя ты замечаешь как его глаза немного округляются, а щёки розовеют.

— Нет. Я знаю тебя.

Ты усмехаешься, всё ещё смущённая, отходишь от него.

— С чего эти разговоры о мужьях?

Взяв ещё одну стрелу, ты отходишь обратно к Ивару.

— Твой отец ищет тебе мужа.

— Да... как и все отцы своих дочерей. Это женская участь, быть подороже проданной, если повезёт, даже не придётся заплатить за это собственными благами. — Отойдя от Ивара, ты становишься на место, откуда стреляла.

— Ты хотела быть девой-щита.

— Я до сих пор этого хочу. — Наведя стрелу на цель, ты выдыхаешь. — Я не верю, что мой отец найдёт достойного жениха, к тому же, он не так много делает для этого. Пока он соберётся, я уже смогу отправиться в рейд.

— Мой отец хочет поехать в рейд.

Ты выпускаешь стрелу.

— Он хочет взять меня с собой.

Попадание чуть выше прошлой стрелы. Как ты и хотела.

— Что?! Ты отказался, верно?

Ивар хмурится, явно ожидая немного другой реакции. Ты всегда поддерживала его, но не сейчас. Почему? Ты не верила в него? Ещё никто из его семьи не знает, что он задумал, ты первая с кем он делится этим.

— Зачем мне отказываться? — он бросает тебе вызов. Ты видишь это в его глазах. Он хочет, чтобы ты сказала что-то обидное, подтвердила его уже воспылавшие чувства словами.

Твой язык никогда бы не смог помочь тебе произнести что-то обидное в сторону Ивара. Он провоцирует тебя на слова, о которых ты пожалеешь, если произнесёшь их. Ты умнее этого, но твоё молчание не играет тебе на руку.

— Ты говорил об этом Аслуаг? — интересуешься ты, тяжело выдохнув.

— Ещё нет. Но она наверное также будет против.

— Ты ведь понимаешь, что может произойти? — интересуешься ты, делая несколько шагов к своему другу.

В твоём взгляде есть надежда, что он поймёт тебя без лишних слов, что он откажется от глупой и самоубийственной идеи. Но Ивар никогда не отказывается от желаемого. Он упрямый и избалованный. Он не будет слушать тебя, даже если ты хочешь спасти его жизнь.

— Это единственный шанс. — В его тоне слышна грусть. — Ты понимаешь кто я, что меня ждёт, если я сейчас ничего не сделаю?

— Никто не хочет плыть с Рагнаром. Он покупает воинов золотом, а не идеей.

— Это не важно.

— Ивар...

— Я поплыву с отцом.

Ты киваешь, понимая, что не способна его переубедить.

***

Он пытается спать с Маргрет. Это не выходит как нужно и превращается в очередную проблему для Ивара. В том числе и из-за того, что ты кажется злишься на него. Не только из-за рабыни, но и из-за того, что он избегает тебя после этого.

Ты не знаешь, злит ли тебя на самом деле ревность и обида, или жалость к своему другу и его не желание подпускать тебя к себе близко, как раньше.

Но когда он уплывает не попрощавшись, ты думаешь, что вас как друзей больше нет.

***

Он возвращается домой, частично его считают победителем. Единственный кто вернулся из Англии и единственный, кто желает мести за своего отца больше всех.

Ты молча наблюдаешь за ним и всем, что разворачивается. Люди хотят мести. Не только за Рагнара, как ты можешь предположить, но и за людей погибших в ��нглии во время "мирного договора".

Твой отец против, и не едет сам, но ты едешь. Странным образом тебе удаётся сбежать в рейд, до того, как ты будешь обязана "держать дом в уюте" и вынашивать детей.

Ивар тоже едет. Он смотрит на тебя грустными глазами так часто, что в какой-то момент ты просто перестаёшь обращать на это внимание, потому что это он отказался от тебя. Он игнорировал тебя, он решил, что должен умереть не попрощавшись, а вернувшись ведёт себя так будто ты прекратила ваше общение. Будто ты отказалась от всего что у вас было.

Как только вы прибыли в Англию, ты знала, что не скоро её покинешь. Возвращаться в Каттегат означало снова подвергаться давлению семьи, они снова будут говорить о замужестве.

Никого не удивляет, что вы победили. Хотя ты не была уверена, почему, тебе удалось занять хорошую комнату в замке и частично ты верила, что это не Ивар приложил руку.

Странным образом тебе нравятся т��ои новые покои.

Простыни мягкие, пространства много, и поразительным образом тебя никто не беспокоит. Может быть дело было в Иваре, ты не знаешь точно приложил ли он к этому руку.

Саксонская девушка стала твоей рабыней, и тебе не нужно лишний раз заморачиваться над тем, чтобы разжигать свечи в комнате, чем она сейчас и занимается, или готовить себе ванную.

Ты правда удивлена тому, как поездка в рейд могла стать такой удобной. Но тебе не на что жаловаться, пока в комнату не раздаётся стук.

Твоя прислуга открывает. И через несколько секунд она говорит тебе, что Ивар хочет тебя видеть.

Это странно, учитывая время и обстоятельства. За окном уже темно, ты даже больше не слышишь пьянств и сон вот-вот заставит тебя упасть в мягкую постель.

Однако может быть это любопытств, а может глупая надежда, заставляющая тебя следовать за светловолосой рабыней, посланной Иваром. Она кажется спокойной, но ты можешь заметить лёгкое недовольство.

Когда она открывает для тебя дверь спальни Ивара, то заходит за тобой следом. Ты смотришь на Ивара с ожиданием, пока он сидит на краю кровати, смотря на тебя так, будто не ожидал увидеть.

Он переводит взгляд на рабыню, которая стоит в ожидании нового приказа, а может просто желая контролировать ситуацию, наивно пологая, что может это делать просто подслушав разговор.

— Можешь идти, — произносит Ивар, смотря на блондинку позади тебя.

Она скрывается за дверью, пока ты смотришь на своего бывшего друга в ожидании. Он хочет, чтобы ты подошла к нему, без слов и просьбы. Но ты стоишь там, у двери, не двигаясь с места. Ивар может заметить как хорошо ты выглядишь в этом воинственном образе, твои волосы иначе заплетены, а очертания фигуры подчёркнуты лучше, чем в платьях, которые ты обычно носишь.

— Сядешь? — интересуется он, похлопав по месту на кровати рядом с собой.

Ты не хочешь здесь быть, в основном думая, что Ивар не заслужил разговора с тобой. Ты злишься и ты обижена.

Но ты делаешь первый шаг, а затем второй, направляясь к нему, садишься рядом.

— Я хочу, чтобы ты стала моей женой, — произносит он, заставляя тебя удивиться каждому слову.

Смотря на Ивара с не поддельным шоком, ты стараешься не говорить ничего грубого. Но в твоих мыслях много всего, заставляющего слишком долго молчать. Тишина между тобой и Иваром, заставляет его взять на себя продолжение разговора.

— Мне жаль, что я уехал тогда не попрощавшись с тобой. — Он хочет дотронуться до твоей руки, но боится, что ты одёрнешь её. — Я не должен был закрываться от тебя после... но... сейчас всё иначе.

— Что иначе?

— Я больше не калека, который ни на что не способен. Я лидер армии. Благодаря мне, мы отомстили за Рагнара и теперь, я отомщу за свою мать, заберу трон. Ты станешь моей королевой.

Ты хочешь сказать о многом, но даже не знаешь с чего начать.

— Ты... зачем ты хочешь жениться на мне? — интересуешься ты, пока пытаешься сдержать ком в горле.

Он выглядит оскорблённым, будто ты не имела повода такое спрашивать.

— Потому что мы были созданы друг для друга с самого начала.

Морщинка между твоих бровей становится очевидней.

— Тогда зачем ты пытался переспать с Маргрет? Почему не попрощался с мной? Почему не стал говорить со мной вернувшись? — в твоём тоне сквозит боль, даже если ты пытаешься её скрыть.

Кажется у Ивара нет столько же ответов, сколько у тебя вопросов. Следовало ли рассказать тебе о том, что его мучает почти с самого рождения? Ты и так должно быть знала, учитывая сколько вы пробыли вместе, общаясь друг с другом.

Но ты не знала. Может быть догадывалась, но не знала.

— Я не хотел быть мальчишкой с тобой. Маргрет была со всеми моими братьями, я думал, что мог бы стать лучше, прежде чем смогу быть с тобой.

Ты в смятении. Чувствуешь одновременно непонимание и сомнение. Он должен был бы знать лучше, что тебя не волновало бы что-то подобное.

— Я хочу быть кем-то, предложить тебе что-то, потому что знаю, что не могу предложить хотя бы малого из того, что мог бы другой мужчина, нормальный.

Ты чувствуешь горечь на языке.

— Ты не разговаривал со мной, потому что думал, что...

— Я хотел предложить тебе больше, чем кто-либо другой. И сейчас я могу это сделать.

— Это не значит, что я должна быть твоей женой.

Кажется твои слова удивляют его. Ивар даже не предполагал, что ты откажешься. Но вот, ты подсаживаешь ему идею о том, что можешь отказаться. Можешь не дать ему желаемого.

— Но ты хочешь этого, так же как и я.

— Почему ты так решил? — интересуешься ты, явно оскалившись на своего друга детства.

— Потому что мы давно знаем друг друга. Ты предпочла бы выйти за незнакомца? — интересуется Ивар.

Смешок слетает с твоих губ, пока ты поднимаешься.

— Я не собираюсь выходить замуж. Здесь нет моего отца, значит пока я свободна. И мы даже ещё не знаем, когда вернёмся в Каттегат и вернёмся ли.

Ивар поднимает на тебя свои голубые глаза пропитанные удивлением, трепетом и уязвимостью. Он успевает схватить тебя за руку, пока ты совсем не отдалилась.

— Мы вернёмся в Каттегат. Я захвачу его, стану королём и попрошу руки у твоих родителей, если ты сама не хочешь соглашаться, они сделают это за тебя.

Твои глаза округляются. Он бы не посмел.

— Нет.

— Я стану королём, моё слово будет законом. Что по твоему происходит с теми, кто нарушает закон?

Ты хочешь сказать, что их ждёт смерть, заключение или унижение. Но у тебя не поворачивается язык. Может ли Ивар быть сейчас серьёзен. Ты хочешь думать, что нет.

Но он смотрит на тебя с ожиданием, кажется не понимая, что тебя сковал страх.

— Тебе лучше согласиться сейчас, пока всё не усугубилось.

Он давит, пытается дёргать тебя за ниточки, и ты поддаёшься. Насколько бы тебе не нравилась перспектива оставаться с Иваром, ты знаешь, что иной выход только в замужестве с другим мужчиной, а у тебя нет кандидатов. Бежать на сторону Лагерты кажется излишним предательством, к тому же, она может не принять тебя в своё войско. Хотя душещипательная история о желании Ивар и твоих, могла бы растопить её подозрительность. Но она убила Аслауг, не виновную в том, что Рагнар разбил ей сердце, почему ты решила, что Лагерта сжалится над тобой.

— Ты... ты понимаешь, что я никогда бы не стала твоей женой, если бы не условия, о которых ты мне говоришь?

Ивара кажется искренне задевают твои слова.

— Это не так. Наши судьбы сплетены.

— Это не означает брак!

— Разве ты никогда не думала, что мы могли быть чем-то большим? — интересуется Ивар, и в его глазах так много надежды, что твоё сердце сжимается от боли.

Конечно ты думала о большем. Но кажется история с Маргрет отрезвила тебя, а его молчание и избегание перевернуло твоё мнение.

Сомнение в тебе очевидно, и это даёт Ивару знак. Этого молчания д��статочно, чтобы он не останавливался, продолжая добиваться своего.

— Завтра будет наша свадьба, — произносит он.

Ты удивлена такой спешке, но догадываешься о её причинах. Вряд ли кто-то сейчас будет перечить Ивару.

[psychosncottagecore]

Masterlist (Remastered)

For some reason Tumblr won't let me update my old masterlist, so here's a new one!

Ok so, this account is dedicated to fanfictions and this - my first post, will be both an intro and a temporary masterlist! I do take requests for the following. All fanfics unless explicitly stated otherwise are x female reader

I do write smut (probably badly) and if you venture into my blog then on your head be it!

I do write for SPN - I will NEVER write any form of incest (for any fandom) whether they’re bio or adopted siblings - that’s just nasty siblings are siblings

Please feel free to make requests in my inbox! Doesn’t have to be for these guys! Go wild with any character you want 

I will write for a character based off of a song! 

Reign:

Sebastian Du Poitiers

The Falls

Mary Queen of Scots 

(More to come?)

The 100

Lexa

Bellamy

Clarke

TVD/TO

Malachi (Kai) Parker

Elijah Mikaelson

Klaus Mikaelson

Bonnie Bennette

Rebekah Mikaelson

Marcel Gerard

Vikings

Ivar ‘The Boneless’ Ragnanrsson

Hvitserk Ragnarsson

Halfdan ‘The Black’

Ubba Ragnarsson

Lagertha 

Supernatural 

Jack Kline

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Gabriel 

American Horror Story

Michael Langdon 

(I will not be writing James March, Richard Ramirez or Charles Montgomary or any others based off of real killers (to the best of my knowledge) my morals might be loose - but they’re not that loose!)

(More to come)

Miscellaneous fics:

[crushribbons]

thanks, peg J

summary: Dr. Michael Robinavitch needs help building a shelf.

cw: 2.7k words, fluff, my actual husband is an actual doctor i should probably know more/anything about how hospitals work, vague age gap (reader/oc is in her 30's), vague to graphic depictions of injury/illness, fem!OC/reader.

a/n: paging dr. daddy :) <3

(gif cred)

She pulled her stethoscope off her neck. “Oof. Sounds like a ball of a Friday night. Is it from Ikea?”

“The Ivar,” Robby specified with a nod and shrug. He looked back down at the patient list from their shift, which couldn’t have been ending at a more merciful time. The last man she had examined had spat on her. And what else should she expect?; she’d diagnosed his pain as a small kidney stone passing through his urethra and written a prescription that would all but eliminate the discomfort. If that wasn’t deserving of a loogie to the face, she didn’t know what else would be. Robby let out a sigh that sounded exactly like the exhaustion tugging her eyelids down. 

Nurse Dana swept by them, her fleece jacket already three-quarters of the way on. “Don’t take too long on those autographs, kids, or night shift will just let you keep right on rolling.” 

A raspy little laugh slipped past Dr. Robby’s lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they always did on the rare occasions someone could tug a genuine smile out of him. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if the lack of breakfast and the bag of Ritz crackers she’d scarfed down for lunch were the only things making her light-headed. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he called after Dana. The charge nurse raised her hand without turning around and wiggled her fingers at them while darting out the double doors that led to the waiting room and exit before anyone could stop her. Robby turned back to the doctor next to him and handed her the clipboard he’d just finished signing about two hundred times. 

Her hand grazed his, and the level of attention she paid to how warm and rough his fingers felt made her grit her jaw in frustration. It was her first year as an attending, how could she be letting something as ridiculous as a workplace crush get to her? She realized it had been a while since she’d spoken, and that Robby was pulling his own coat and backpack from underneath his desk. 

“Need any help chasing down the million nuts and bolts that are guaranteed to burst out of the little bag when you open it?” she offered jokingly. Robby’s eyes flicked to her too fast. She felt her hairline heat up, worried she’d overstepped. 

None of the attendings did anything outside of work together; the work hours were long enough to get their fill of each other without feeling the need to add alcohol or food to the mix. Some of the students and residents would occasionally hit bars after their shifts, and though she had no desire to join them, it made her miss the relative lack of responsibility of med school. Dr. Robinavitch, in particular, never broached the topic of his personal life at work, so she tried to do the same. There were too many patients to see and too much to accomplish to bother checking if the attractive ER chief with the puppy-dog eyes had plans for the weekend. No matter how much she wanted to.

He let out another chuckle, though this one was without humor. "Don't tell me you got nothing better to do than that," he said. "On a Friday night."

"I'm, uh, still finding my way around Pittsburgh." It was true. Her residency in California had spoiled her, and she found the stark greyness of Pennsylvania off-putting. She rarely ventured from her apartment for anything other than work and necessary grocery shopping.

He regarded her for a few seconds. His gaze felt heavier than it should have, as if she had some symptom that didn't line up with her lab results. She remembered what Dr. Santos had muttered to her on her first day at the Pitt when she'd caught the new doctor staring a little too long at Robby typing his notes.

"I know. He's crazy hot, right?" Trinity had pinched her elbow and embarrassment had made her stutter nonsensically. Then, to top off the humiliation, Trinity had started swaying her shoulders side to side and singing under her breath, "I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine..." The younger woman was known for being abrasive, but, shit, she was a perceptive little fucker, too.

"I'd be a fool to turn down help wrangling Ivar. Ikea furniture is my Achilles heel," Robby was saying when she snapped back to the present. He seemed hesitant. He couldn't tell whether she'd been joking or not, and, frankly, she couldn't either. "But I couldn't ask you to–"

"You'd be doing me a favor," she cut in quickly. He would, in more ways than one. "If I sit on my couch with my cat for one more weekend, I think they're gonna start letting me collect Social Security."

A genuine laugh! Her stomach flipped upside down at the sight and the sound. Both were warm and inviting and made her want to kiss each of the individual lines on his weathered face. "Then by all means, please."

Oh, wait. Was this happening? Was it, actually? Nerves gnawed at her while she finished handing off the patient list to the night shift. What was it? A date? A friend helping another friend put a shelf together? A coworker helping another, older and more senior coworker who intimidated the hell out of her put a shelf together?

As Robby departed through the same double doors Dana had dashed through, he turned and pointed significantly at his phone, and she pulled hers from her pocket to see that he had texted her his address. Nothing else, just the address, dashed out in Robby’s usual efficient and minimalistic tone. He hadn’t even included the city and zip, but he didn’t need to. Living further than 15 minutes away from the hospital seemed like something a less dedicated physician might consider, but she knew that Robby didn’t really live at the address he’d sent her, anyway. He lived in all the exam rooms and hallways surrounding her, their sanitized scent pricking at her nose one last time before she stepped into the waiting room and the few remaining rays of sunlight waiting to greet her outside.

The door opened on her second knock, or, more accurately, before she could even finish it. Goddammit. She should have taken more time to consider what an off-duty Dr. Robby might look like. 

“Hey,” he said, a genial smile lighting up his tired face.

“H–mm, hi,” she replied. She tried to hide a swallow.

Robby stood aside and let her pass through the front door of the aged but charming brownstone. The long hallway was lined with dark wooden panels that creaked when she walked over them. She tried not to feel him following behind her, the scent of some musky shampoo or body wash drifting off him. She also showered directly after a shift. Too much hospital.

A line of hooks held various jackets and sling bags, and a haphazard pile of worn sneakers sat beneath them. “I gotta get a rack for those, or something,” Robby muttered from behind her, noticing her sightline.

“You should see mine. The floor of my closet is a nightmare.”

She walked into the living room and couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. It was sparsely but cozily finished, an overstuffed couch and matching loveseat positioned atop a plush rug that hugged her feet taking up most of the space. And, of course, a veritable disaster of boards, planks, plastic bags, and ripped cardboard in the middle of all of it.

“Yikes.”

“Thank you, again, for helping me with this,” he said, and came to stand beside her. “Why is it that I can perform a trach in my sleep, but the assembly of Swedish furniture is my downfall?” He scratched the back of his neck, the white t-shirt he was wearing showing off far too much of what was usually hidden beneath a few layers of thermals, scrubs, and hoodies. Her hairline started to feel hot again. 

She cleared her throat and made her way over to the pile of shelf. “For what med school costs, they really should be teaching us the essentials like this stuff, too!” He didn’t respond, making her look up at him. He was watching her again, with that sort-of-absent-but-always-thoughtful x-ray vision. She wished he’d stop.

“You really got none of the cynicism and all of the optimism out of your residency, didn’t you?”

She flushed and looked back down at the ground, unsure if he was making fun of her. “It being basically on the ocean didn’t hurt. Lots to be optimistic about in northern Cali, it’s so beautiful.”

Robby shook his Midwest-born-and-bred head. “Damn hippy.” His voice was gruff, but his dark eyes were sparkling and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate in a giggle. He crossed the room and through an arch that led to the kitchen. “I ordered some Chinese for dinner, hope that’s alright,” he called back to her.

The tension returned tenfold and her heart began doing somersaults in her chest. Dinner? This included dinner now? Sure, it was time for dinner, but she hadn’t wanted to be so presumptuous as to suggest adding food to this friendly favor she was performing. Robby returned laden with white paper takeout boxes and a handful of napkins and chopsticks. “Like lo mein?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes, but you really didn’t have to get anything for me! That’s so nice,” she gushed, trying to reign in the attraction to this man and behave as if he was just any other rugged, kind, intelligent guy she might come in contact with. She was so screwed. 

He pressed the box of lo mein into her hand with a pair of chopsticks. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping with this,” he shrugged. “Hopefully, you still have an appetite after that bike accident from this morning.” The memory of the young man’s torso torn open and spilling out onto the operating table sent a nauseous wave from her head to her stomach, but she quickly compartmentalized it, as she’d learned to do long ago.

“Why do people even buy motorcycles,” she muttered rhetorically.

“Uh, because they love visiting you so very much,” he returned with a wink that made her miss her mouth with the chopsticks.

Two hours later, the shelf was only two-feet tall and missing three of the nine screws it had required so far.

“Peg L, peg L, peg L,” Robby said through gritted teeth, “where the fuck is peg L?”

She held the instructions centimeters away from her face, hoping the proximity would illuminate its solutions somehow. “Peg L goes into plank K. We just placed plank H.” He stopped running his hands along the carpet to search for the missing peg L and looked up at her with a speck of encroaching insanity peeking through. 

“I’m out of order?”

“Miiiike,” she laugh-groaned. “Did you already use peg G? We need J right now!” When he didn’t answer, she glanced up from the “simple” instruction packet. A sleepy kind of flush appeared on his face, and he pulled the reading glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose and–hide it? Then, he sighed.

“God, no one’s called me just…Mike in forever.” It was a complete sentence, a complete statement, a complete story, and he was done talking about it, but it made a million questions bubble up in the back of her throat. She ignored them.

“You’re at work too much,” she almost whispered. Why she was no longer scared of stepping over some professional, coworker boundary, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the way he had accepted her help with such a domestic task, or the fact that they were seeing each other in something other than scrubs for the first time (the loose, perfectly worn-in jeans he was wearing would surely be appearing in her dreams that night), or maybe it was because their legs had been pressed together for the last half hour as they tried to decipher the mysteries of Ivar. Whatever it was, Robby–Mike, felt it, too. He stared into her eyes before averting them to the floor and mumbling,

“Yeah. I know.” He put the glasses back on. “So, peg J.”

“C’mere, ya little Swedish asshole,” she agreed, and they resumed pawing around the rug to try and find the screws that, as predicted, had spilled from the package as soon as Robby had ripped it. She tried to avoid brushing against his hand as well as she could, until her fingers bumped into a tiny piece of metal, and she snatched the screw from the ground. Carefully consulting the instructions, she looked from the page, to the screw, to the page, before shouting, “Oh my God, I found it!” 

His hands were cradling either side of her face in a second, and then he was kissing her. The part of her brain that handled compartmentalization clocked in at lightning speed and swept all her confusion into the bin so she could focus on nothing except his beard scratching her, his warm hands cupping her jaw. Well, well before she had gotten her fill of him, he pulled back and blurted, “Awesome! Good job, let’s put it in.” He plucked the screw out of her hand like the conversation had just been on pause, scooting over on his knees to the feeble half-shelf.

She sat in complete shock until Robby, without turning to face her, said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Mike.”

“You just looked–and I, it’s been…I’m really sorry.”

“Mike.”

He was attempting to twist the screw into place with his fingers so he didn’t have to come get the screwdriver from beside her. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again. If you want to take it to HR…”

That was enough to jumpstart her brain again, and she burst into laughter, forcing him to finally spin around.

“HR? Really?” She made a phone out of her pinky, fist, and thumb and held it to her ear. “Hello, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Department of Human Resources? Yes, I’d like to file a report against one of your doctors.” She was having a hard time stifling her laughter. “Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Yes, the hottie from the ER, that’s correct. He really laid one on me—"

It was Robby's turn to cut her off, and he did so by rolling his eyes and snatching the instructions out of her other hand. "Hey!" She dove after them but decided instead to drag him in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss. They both held each other tightly, Robby's hands wandering, respectfully, under the hem of her shirt. When she tugged a handful of his hair, he grunted in annoyance.

"Watch it. Don't have much of that left."

"You've got a lot for an old man." She regretted it as soon as she said it, even though he had already alluded to it. His head dropped and apologies bubbled up and out of her lips, assurances that that's not how she'd meant it, that he was the most attractive man she'd met at the Pitt, but he waved them off.

His glasses were sliding down his nose again. He cleared his throat and pushed them back up. "Are you okay with it, then? I mean, I know I'm not..." Her heart ached when he trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his neck again.

"Very ok," she whispered. She reached for his hand and took it. He was fiddling with a screw that she plucked out and tossed to the side. "I'm 31, you know, Senior Elder Doctor Robinavitch."

Robby smiled, clearly in spite of himself. He tucked a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear. For a minute, they just sat and looked at each other, matching each other's lazy smiles. "That's it. Didn't want to have to do this, but you're fired."

"Okay now I want to take this to HR."

masterlist

[milkb0nny]

I would like to request sth 🥰

Could you write one with reader being daughter of a great king and shes married with Ivar and she hears Margrethe talking bad about him and he hears, gets really sad and reader sees just red and gets really mad and Ivar just loves how she is just as tyrannt as him?

I would totally understand if you dont want to write it.

Anyways I hope you have a great day ❤️

Fury Amongst Us

Pairing: Ivar x fem!reader

Summary: Despite the forced marriage between you and Ivar, the two of you developed some sort of adoration. Still, you didn’t exchange much words to one another, until that one evening; you could not stand Magrethe talking bad about your husband.

Note: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you will like it! I made Reader a little more tame than Ivar, but still fierce and respectable. I had quite some fun writing this. Have a lovely day anon. <3

Content: established relationship, swearing, arguing, fluff, blood

Word count: ~1400

You prepared yourself for the festivities in the grand hall as your people prepared to celebrate the successes of the recent raids and the goods they had brought back. Each time the warriors returned, your father made the journey to Kattegat for the grand celebrations. He always claimed he came to see you, his daughter, but you knew he was drawn to the infamous vibrance of the town. You loved your father, and you couldn’t complain about seeing him. You had grown accustomed to these occasions, yet tonight was more exciting than the festivities before: it was your first evening in the grand hall as a married woman.

Your marriage to Ivar Ragnarsson, the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, was not born of love but of strategy - a political alliance to unite your families and strengthen ties between your folk. It was an act of power, not passion. Therefore you met with prejudice and discomfort, which vanished quickly. You did not begrudge your fate. The man could have been an ugly, aging warrior; instead, you were married to a man who was young, complex, and intriguing.

You had heard of Ivar's reputation long before meeting him. His anger and cruelty were legendary, and those who spoke of him did so with both fear and awe. Yet in the months since your marriage, you had glimpsed a different side to him, one the world rarely saw. His legs, which many deemed a weakness, were not so to him. His ambitious will and sharp mind more than compensated for any physical limitation. You found this quality admirable, even endearing. But with his strength came a quiet torment. You have experienced his rage, however, it was never turned on you but others. As if he tried to spare you from his ugliness, which you appreciated. He cared somewhat about his wife.

Over the past week, you had tried to overcome the distance between you and Ivar, seeking moments of closeness and tenderness. Yet he remained distant, avoiding your affections not with cruelty but with a quiet humility that suggested he believed himself unworthy of your love. He declined intimate acts, and your efforts to make up for the lack of romance between you. Who would have thought that Ivar the Boneless, the man feared across lands, carried such a burden of self-doubt? You respected his boundaries, offering him space but showing your care in subtle ways. And with each glance, each moment shared in silence, you felt a growing pull in your heart. You watched him, often questioning what thoughts stirred his mind. Was this marriage beginning to blossom into something real? If not, why did you feel those emotions then? You weren’t sure, but you found yourself eager to explore.

As Magrethe and another woman helped you dress, their usual gossip floated around the room. You paid little attention to it, your mind drifting to thoughts of Ivar. Magrethe’s sharp tongue often spilled tea, and though her stories rarely concerned you, today her words felt especially bitter. She rambled on about a couple who had argued loudly the night before, her tone dismissive and mocking.

The room quieted when Ivar appeared in the doorway. His presence was commanding, his piercing blue eyes immediately finding yours. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might say something, but he quickly averted his gaze, moving into the next room where his brothers waited. The door remained slightly open, and you caught him glancing back, as though reluctant to leave the sight of you.

Magrethe noticed your melancholic expression and, despite the envy that often laced her words, she tried to comfort you. "Ivar is not only ruthless in battle but also with the people closest to him," she said, her voice deceptively soft. "You should be careful, my lady. His anger might one day find you, too."

Her words, though spoken with genuine concern, carried a hidden mischief. You replied calmly, your tone steady.

"I appreciate your concern, Magrethe, but I am his wife, not the cause of his fury."

Your chest tightened at her cruel words, but you remained composed. Through the mirror, you saw Ivar just beyond the door, his head bowed as if trying to shrink away. His brothers’ laughter did little to drown out the sting of Magrethe’s remarks, and you knew he had heard every word. His eyes reflected the self hatred and disgust he owned for himself, and that alone hurt you.

"But haven’t you noticed?" she pressed, her voice growing sharper. "He cares only for power and pays no mind to the cost of his ambitions. He would hurt anyone to achieve importance. Yet, no matter how much power he has, he will always remain a cripple - a man who must rely on others to carry him."

With curiosity, you encouraged her to continue. "Go on," you said calmly.

Though the fire in your heart burned hotter with every passing moment. You set a trap for her to step in, and so she did.

Magrethe leaned closer, her tone dripping with mean words. "I pity you, my lady, being tied to such a man. The worst of it is that Ivar doesn’t love anyone… not even himself. He pushes everyone away. That’s why he’ll always be alone, no matter how powerful he becomes."

Her words were the final spark. Fury surged within you, and you turned to face her, your gaze cold and unyielding. Through the open door, you caught a glimpse of Ivar, his shoulders stiff, bracing for what he assumed would be your agreement with Magrethe’s cruel assessment. He clearly expected you to complain and cry. But what came next was far from what anyone expected.

Without warning, your hand struck Magrethe’s cheek with a sharp small object, the force sending her stumbling backward and falling to ground. Blood welled from a thin cut where your hidden blade had grazed her pure skin. Her shocked whimpers filled the room as she clutched her face.

Ubbe burst into the room, his expression one of alarm. Before he could speak, you turned to him, your voice cutting through the tension like steel.

"You allow such insolence to fester in your household, Ubbe? This woman insults your brother and dares to do so in my presence."

Magrethe sobbed before you, her arrogance shattered. Kneeling, you grasped her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze.

"You speak of my husband as though you understand him, but you know nothing of his strength, his pain. You, Magrethe, are nothing more than a jealous, envious snake, slithering beneath the feet of those greater than you." You continued to torment her, not letting that behavior go. „How can you speak of self esteem when you’re reeking of jealousy? How can you act as if you’re above him?“

Your voice softened, but each word carried the weight of your fury.

"If Ivar is broken, then I will carry him. If the world taunts him, I will silence it. And if you or anyone else dares to challenge him, I will make the gods themselves regret it. The world will burn in flames, and I will cause it if someone dares to question us, our marriage or our love."

As you stepped into the hall, the cool air brushing against your flushed skin, you found Ivar waiting. His blue eyes were filled with a mixture of awe and longing. For the first time, he reached for your hand, his touch tentative but warm.

The room was silent, only for Magrethe’s soft sobs. Even Ubbe was speechless, his gaze flicking between you and the trembling woman at your feet. You rose, your movements deliberate and commanding, and turned to Ubbe.

"Teach her to learn her place. If I hear another insult, I will not stop at a scar."

"You didn’t have to do that," he said softly, his voice laced with emotion.

For the first time, Ivar allowed himself to believe that perhaps he was worthy of such love. The anger he owned, he burdened himself with, now was shared with you.

Meeting his gaze, you replied with quiet intensity.

"I would do it again, Ivar. You are my husband, and I will not let anyone, not even you, think you are less than what you are."

[axelsagewrites]

Greetings!

I hope you don't mind me sliding in your ask box! I want to request Ivar x fem!reader, who suffers from a condition named vaginismus.

Vaginismus is a condition where the vagina cramps so hardly, that penetration is very painful. It can get treated by mental therapy and slowly getting comfortable with sex. It's mostly caused by traumatic events.

I seek for some wholesomeness combined with Ivar. You don't have to focus on any smut part if you'll feel uncomfortable, sole comfort would be enough!

Feel free to decline! Remember to drink enough and have a lovely day! ❤️

Ivar the Boneless*Does It Hurt?

Pairing: Ivar x f!reader

Word count: 1830

Warnings: insecurities, mentions of painful sex, mentions of shitty exes, make out, fingering, f!receiving oral, p in v sex, Ivar wanting to get revenge on the crappy ex, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Being with Ivar was the best decisions you’d ever made there was only one small issue. You'd never actually *been* with him. its not that you hadn’t had sex before, but it always just seemed to hurt. You’d tried in the past to just push through the pain, usually at the guy’s request, but you were done being in constant pain for someone else’s benefit. Which is partially why the rumours about Ivars’s bedroom mishap didn’t bother you.

You knew it was something he was insecure about and you’d assured him countless times it didn’t bother you. so, one night when you were making out sitting in his lap and you felt something hard pressing into you. You were a bit shocked to say the least. It must have all been nerves but now you were the one who was nervous. It’s not like you didn’t want to do it with Ivar you were just scared.

Ivar’s hand slowly trailed up your leg, stroking over your thigh, till he was squeezing your hip as you moaned into the kiss. You had been with Ivar for a while now, but you had never been *with* him. your hands crept down his shoulders till you were squeezing his muscular arms. Despite the taunts some people liked to make you could feel something hard grinding against your leg.

He broke the kiss but only to trail some down your neck, going between nipping and kissing the sensitive skin. It felt like bliss. His hands slowly began to tug at your skirts, pulling them up so he could feel the soft flesh of your thighs but when you felt him try push them apart you couldn’t help but clamp up, your body going rigid.

Ivar paused his movements, pulling away to face you after a moment, “Is everything okay my love?” he asked. There was a mix of emotions behind his eyes; insecurity, lust but most presently concern.

“I-I,” you began to stutter making Ivar move his hand from your leg to cup your jaw.

He stroked his thumb gently across your skin, “Have you never…?” he asked, voice trailing off.

You took a deep breath before shaking your head, “I have its just,” you said as you sat up in bed, Ivar moving to sit beside you are holding your hand, “It hurts whenever I have before,”

“Hurts how?”

You sighed as you decided you may as well just tell him. the last guy you had told just rolled his eyes and left to find someone else for that night, but Ivar waited patiently as you explained, “Whenever I’ve tried to have sex it just kind of hurts? I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not that I don’t want you,” you said, squeezing his hand, “it just feels like it won’t go in and when it does it just- “

“Hurts?” he said cutting off your rambles, “it’s okay love. We don’t have to- “

“But I want too, I swear I do- “

“I believe you,” he cut you off, moving to hold your face gently. Ivar placed a soft kiss to your lips instantly calming you down, “Is it just when things are going in?” he asked, and you nodded. His eyes moved to scan your frame as his hand moved to rest on your thigh, “We could always try something else,” he said, eyes moving to meet yours with a glint behind them.

You felt your cheeks begin to heat up, “I know men don’t actually like that stuff- “

“What idiot told you that?”

“This guy I used to- “you paused when you saw Ivars’s jaw tense, “It was a long time ago but some of the things he said just kind of stuck with me I guess,”

“Like what?”

You took a deep breath before spilling out, “That guys don’t like that kind of stuff and it was my problem not his. How it was my job to get him off and not the other way around and if I was broken then there were other ways to do that- “

Ivar took your hands tightly in his, making you pause, “No. it is not a job or a chore or anything else. You are not broken. You are just different,” he said, moving one of his hands to rest over your heart, “We both are. That’s what you used to tell me,” he said, his voice low. “You were there for me when no one else was. I want to be there for you. whether we have sex or not and whatever sex is to us. We take it at our pace, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered back, half on the verge of crying as Ivars other hand moved to cup your cheek, pulling you in for a gentle kiss.

Well, it was supposed to be gentle, but you found your lips moving faster and soon you’d moved to straddle his lap as his hands gently squeezed your hips. You could feel his bulge through his trousers and you grinded against it softly making him groan into your mouth.

“Lay on your back,” he mumbled against your lips. you went to speak but he cut you off with a kiss, “trust me,” something about his eyes staring into yours entranced you and soon you were laying down as his lips travelled down your jaw and neck.

You were still in your dress, but his hands soon pulled it up till it was around your waist as he kissed down your collarbones. You felt your body tensed as Ivars’s hand inched closer to your core. “We’ll go slow, okay? tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered. You nodded quickly and sucked in your breath when you felt his fingers push against your clit.

He moved them in slow circles as his lips sucked at the sensitive skin of your neck. Little moans escaped your lips, and you heard Ivar chuckle when your hips began to buck. You whined when he pulled his fingers away but watched with fixed eyes as he shuffled down your body till his hot breath fanned over your cunt.

Ivar began to kiss your inner thighs, leading a trail up to your core. When his tongue licked up your cunt you couldn’t help but gasp. It soon turned into a moan however when his mouth wrapped around your clit. Your hand quickly found his hair, tugging on it gently which only seemed to spur his movements on as he groaned against your cunt sending shivers down your spine.

You could feel a strange new sensation growing in your stomach. “Please,” you murmured, “Don’t stop,” you began to beg, and Ivar had no intensions of stopping anytime soon. he moved down till you could feel his tongue poking at your hole, easing in so he could gently fuck you with his tongue while his nose rubbed against your clit.

The sensation had you gripping his hair tightly, your hips bucking inadvertently as you grinded gently on his face. Ivar locked his arms around your thighs, stopping you from wiggling away as he continued his merciless assault on your cunt till, he felt your thighs squeezing around his head.

A stream of profanity and his name fell from your lips as you felt yourself crash over the wall. Ivar didn’t move however till he was sure you’d ridden out your peak. When he did pull back his eyes were dark as he moved to kiss your lips hard as you moaned into the kiss.

His fingers trailed up your slit before gently pushing the tip of his finger in, “Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered as he pushed further in, curling his finger inside of you making you moan. it hurt a little but not enough to want to stop. You might scream if he stopped as he began to slowly fuck you with one finger before slowly adding another.

His thumb moved to rub circles over your clit, and you could feel another peak quickly approaching, “Ivar?” you mumbled against his lips.

“Yes love?” he asked, pulling away with panting breath.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said, taking him by surprise as his eyes went wide.

He quickly tried to cover up his reaction, “Are you sure?”

“Please don’t make me beg,” you pouted but it just sparked a joy behind his eyes.

“Maybe I’d like it if you did,” he said, pulling his fingers out which made you whine until you saw him pushing his trousers down, releasing his painfully hard cock.

He moved till his tip was lined with your hole when he paused, “Tell me if- “

“I will, I promise,” you said, grabbing his face and making him look you in the eyes, “I trust you,”

His eyes went soft for a moment before he nodded and slowly began to push in. he stopped when he saw you hissing as you adjusted to his size but kept going at your encouragement. “Fuck,” he gasped as he pushed the last bit in, “You feel so good,”

You waited a moment, adjusting to the size before moving your hips. Ivar quickly got the hint and began to set a gentle pace. That was till your legs moved to wrap around his waist and Ivar began fucking you faster, his head resting in the crook of your neck as he moaned your praises in your ear.

His hand moved between your bodies, finding your clit as he rubbed fast circles into your abused nerves. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin which only made it harder for him not to cum right then and there. But he did his best to hold off. You however felt your second orgasm quickly approaching and soon your cunt began to squeeze around his cock as you hit your peak, mumbling his name over and over as you did.

The sight of it, the feeling, it was too much for Ivar as he gripped onto the bed tightly as he pumped his final few thrusts before spilling inside you. Ivar collapsed on top of you in a panting heap. His head was resting on your chest as you rubbed his back gently. “Did I hurt you?” he mumbled through half closed eyes.

“No Ivar, it was perfect,”

Ivar lifted his head with a soft smile, “No you were perfect,” he moved to lay next to you, pulling his shirt over his head to use to clean you up before you settled into bed to cuddle. It was a perfect silence. Well for a few moments, “Who was he?”

“Who was who?”

“The man you were seeing before,” Ivar said making you turn to look at him.

Your eyes scanned his face, but he could hide his emotions when he wanted to, “Why?” you asked sceptically.

“No reason. Just think we should have a little talk is all,”

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[bravo4iscool]

i started watching vikings like two weeks ago and this came to my mind😭

(ubbe ragnarsson x fem!reader; lothbrok/ragnarsson family & fem!reader)

(we’re just gonna act like they’re all a happy family and no one hates each other and everyone is a decent human being lol)

(this is also anything but canon, everyone’s alive, no one’s dead and this has like no place in the timeline lmao. this is just my delusions taking over😭. this probably will have multiple parts too (if people want that lol))

(masterlist | join my tag list!)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

you’re standing at the docks, erik on your hip and little ingrid by your side as you watch the ships slowly run into the habour of kattegat.

your daughter is all giddy beside you, just waiting for her father to finally arrive. “where is he mama? where is he?” she keeps asking, jumping up and down in excitement.

“i don’t know, baby,” you chuckle while the first ships arrive at the docks, the men leaving them in a hurry to get off. “i’m sure he’ll arrive soon,” you promise, ruffling your daughter hair.

meanwhile ubbe can’t walk towards you fast enough. there’s a big smile on his face as he keeps his eyes focused on you and the kids. he needs to take you into his arms again, he couldn’t wait.

he calls out your name when you don’t seem to notice him just yet and your head snaps up at his voice. your eyes light up when you finally see him almost running towards you.

once he reaches you he picks you—and erik—up in his arms, spinning you around. “my love,” he mumbles. “i’ve missed you.”

he sets you down again, immediately connecting his lips with your while his arms hold you close to his body. you sigh into the kiss, more than happy that your husband had finally returned.

when erik begins to squeak you both break the embrace. “look at you,” ubbe coos. “all grown up, my boy.” he takes erik from your arms and holds him up before he peppers his chubby face with kisses. “have you been good to your mama?” he asks, grinning when the baby begins to giggle.

“papa, papa!” ingrid starts to jump up and down again, grabbing her fathers clothes. “will you give me a kiss too?” she asks, her voice sweet and innocent as she blinks up at ubbe.

he looks at her and crushes down, “of course, my darling,” he smiles before he places his other arm around her and starts to plant small kisses all of her face.

the little girl starts to giggle, clearly happy that she’d gained her fathers attention. you only look at the three of them, thanking the gods that ubbe had returned home safe and healthy.

“papa?” ingrid then asks. “can i go greet uncle bjorn?” she’s giddy on her feet, looking at ubbe with those big eyes. “pleaseeeeee?”

ubbe looks at you and you give him a subtle nod. “you can,” he ruffles her hair. “but be careful, the docks can be dangerous.” his voice contains a clear warning but he doesn’t know if ingrid heard him because she’s already running off.

she’s quick on her feet as she dodges the people on the docks, searching for bjorn’s ship. once it came to her vision she let out a happy squeal.

bjorn stands on the docks, only seconds off the ship before ingrid launches herself into his arms. “oof,” he just manages to catch her, laughing when he clutches to him.

“i missed you uncle bjorn,” ingrid mumbles against bjorn’s chest, pressing her face against his armour. he tightens his arms around her, just enjoying the hug.

“i’ve missed you too,” he then mumbles. “my favourite niece, eh.” a smile breaks out on his face while he ruffles ingrid’s hair.

she giggles, “i’m your only niece.”

“that you are,” he smiles. “but you’re still my favourite.” ingrid starts to play with bjorn’s beard while he gently rocks her around in his arms. he wasn’t married, he had no kids, so he enjoyed the attention ingrid gave him.

“you’re standing in the way, brother,” a annoyed voice then sounds from behind bjorn and he turns around to see ivar standing behind him.

bjorn sighs and shifts ingrid in his arms. “there’s enough space to walk around me, ivar. don’t be such a baby.”

ingrid tilts her head and looks at the youngest ragnarsson. “hello uncle ivar.” she gives him a toothy smile, waving.

ivar only scowls and stumbles past bjorn and his niece. “do not call me that,” he hisses, not paying them both another glance. as he limps away the smile on ingrid’s face fades and she looks at bjorn with question marks in her eyes.

“why doesn’t he like me? or my mama?” she wants to know, turning in bjorn’s arms to look after ivar.

bjorn sighs again and grabs the back of her head gently to place a kiss on her hair. “you should not think about that, little one,” he softly mutters before he starts to move and walk towards his brother and sister-in-law.

-

you laugh as ingrid climbs all over bjorn’s shoulders, using his tall and broad frame as some kind of tree while your sitting back against ubbe’s side, erik in your arms. “be careful ingrid, you might fall,” you still warm her though, your eyes trained on her.

bjorn only chuckles and raises his hand to tickle her. “don’t worry about that. i’ll make sure nothing happens.” he winks at you.

“don’t flirt with my wife,” ubbe grumbles at that, still a small smile on his face.

hvitserk laughs and slightly shoves ubbe’s arm at his comment. “at that point, she’s our wife, my dear brother.”

ubbe shoots him a dead panned look before he rolls his eyes. “she’s more like a mother to you than anything else,” he huffs out a small laugh.

you slightly smirk at your husbands comment, patting his hand. “i like it that way,” you smile, standing up when erik starts to fuss around in your arms.

“you keep an eye on ingrid,” you point your finger at bjorn as you start to rock erik and make your way towards the door of the great hall. maybe fresh air would calm him down a bit.

you softly hum to your son, as you walk away from the hall a bit, just until you reach the first fields. “shhhh,” you coo at him, caressing his cheek with your finger.

but no matter what you did, he didn’t seem to calm down.

“maybe you should throw him away,” a familiar voice then sounds and you turn around to see ivar standing a few meters away from you. he’s propped up on his crouch, a permanent scowl on his face.

you let out a small huff and shake your head. “he’s a baby, ivar. he can’t express his feeling yet. sometimes crying is just easier for him,” you explain in a soft voice, continuing to rock erik.

“that’s why i don’t like babies,” he grumbles.

“you were a baby once.”

“i know.” his facial features were still tense as he stared at you, then at erik. “but i’m not a baby anymore.”

you didn’t know why ivar had—most likely—followed you out here. you knew he wasn’t particularly fond of you or your children. you couldn’t recall anything that would make him hate you but in the end of the day, that was how he was.

but even though he didn’t want you in his family, near his brothers, you loved him. he was your husbands brother. by marrying ubbe his brothers became your brothers and you loved them.

you look at ivar and slowly take a step towards him. “ivar,” your voice is soft and gentle as you speak, only erik’s little whines being audible. “why is there so much hatred in your heart?”

he freezes at your question, his eyes boring into yours. “i don’t have a heart,” he then hisses, taking a small step into your direction. “and i don’t need you to act like you care about me.”

“but i do.”

“no, you don’t,” he says, his jaw clenched and his body tense. “you’re lying. no one cares about me, except for my mother.”

you subtly shake your head and walk towards him until you’re standing in front of him. he had his head turned, staring at something behind you. “look at me ivar,” you softly demand, erik suddenly quiet in your arms.

ivar doesn’t listen to you. deep down you knew he wouldn’t but it was worth a try. so, you carefully raise your free hand, leaving enough time for him to pull back, and cup his cheek. “i said, look at me, ivar,” you say again, your voice gentle and calm, soothing even.

“why should i?”

you slowly start to caress his cheek bone with your thumb. “because i want you too see that my concern for you is genuine,” you answer, surprised that he hasn’t pulled back yet. he didn’t like being touched.

slowly ivar lifts his head to look at you, the conflict clear in his eyes. he was acting against all his instincts, against everything he knew.

a small smile plays around your lips as he looks at you. “you’re my brother, ivar,” you start. “and i love you. i care for you. whatever people might’ve done, might’ve said, you’re my family and i keep my family close to me.”

he’s silent while he listens to you, letting your words sink in. barely anyone has talked to him like that before. he wasn’t used to being at the receiving end of such feeling. he didn’t deserve that.

he swallows, “after all i’ve done—”

“i don’t care what you’ve done ivar or what you thought.” you gently pat his cheek before you pull your hand back to shift erik in your arms. “my love is unconditional. and if you never need someone to talk to or someone to listen, even a shoulder to cry on, my door is open. always.”

you get interrupted when you see ubbe walking towards you. he calls out your name, the concern evident in his voice.

“i think that’s my sign to get back inside,” you softly smile before you place your hand on ivar’s neck to pull him down and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “think about my words, ivar.”

that’s the last sentence you say before you walk past him to assure your husband that you were alright.

pt.2, maybe a little series???

[tra-sh]

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (Coming Soon)

Pairing: Ivar x fem!reader (Ubbe x reader if you squint)

Parts:

Summary: Ivar had never cared much for diplomacy or the Saxon women it often brought to Kattegat’s shores. But when Ubbe’s betrothed arrived—draped in silk skirts and uncertainty—something in Ivar stirred. Perhaps it was the way she held her head high despite the biting cold, or how she looked past the bloodied hands of their warriors, meeting their eyes without flinching.

She mistakes him for Ubbe the moment they meet, speaking to him with a bashful softness that didn’t belong to Ivar. He should correct her. Should tell her it’s his older brother she seeks, not him. But in a moment of selfishness, Ivar chooses not to. He lets her believe he is the golden son, the heir with the easy smile. If the truth comes later, so be it. For now, he would cling to this illusion a little longer.

-fic coming soon!-

[imtryingbuck]

Jealousy? Never.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Ivar Ragnarsson x fem!Reader

Summary: Ivar the boneless jealous? Absolutely not.

Word count: 862

Warnings: possessive and jealous Ivar. fluff. slight angst. insecurity (ivar). naked reader - not sexual. mentions of murder (not detailed). shorter than i honestly wanted it to be, sorry.

A/N: thank you anon for sending this request🤍

Masterlist

Ivar’s jaw was clenched painfully tight that Ubbe thought he was going to crack a tooth or two. Jealousy burning his veins as he watched the scene before him. Hvitserk was playing with fire and he knew it, Ivar knew it, everyone in the Great Hall knew it, not that he cared as he continued to dance with Ivar’s queen.

You didn’t see a problem with having fun and have a dance with your brother in law, however your husband clearly thought differently, his blunt nails digging into the wooden arms of his throne, it wasn’t until he banged his crutches down loud enough to catch the attention from everyone in the room - without saying a word he walked out.

That was your queue to follow.

Bidding goodbye to Hvitserk and thanking him for a wonderful night, you made your way towards your shared chambers, twisting the lace of your dress nervously as you pushed the door open. “Husband.”

“Husband? I’m surprised you remembered.” He muttered as he unlanced his braces. “You were all over him tonight.”

“I-I was-”

“All over him! My brother.”

Flinching at his tone, you lowered her head. “It was a dance, nothing more. I promise.”

“He was all over you.”

“It was a dance Ivar I swear.” Carefully shuffling closer to him, to nervous of his reaction, when he didn’t react to your action you knelt down in front of him. “I was just having fun, I’m sorry.”

Raising his hand, he smoothed your hair out of your face - loving the way the soft strands felt against his rough fingers. “He wants to fuck you.”

“Don’t be silly.” The glare he gave you took the smile straight off of your lips. “I do not want him, I swear.”

“You are mine.”

“Yours, and yours only.” It was true, you didn’t want any other man, it was always Ivar from the moment you saw him one day in the market. He was sat on the steps leading up to the Great Hall, a scowl on his face as he watched people walk around, standing by your fathers stall as he spoke to a customer you couldn’t take your eyes off of the man. From that day on, you kept a look out for him, when you saw him crawling around you didn’t even find it weird or funny - not like your father. It took you nearly three months to gather the courage to speak to him, finding him sat on the beach on his own, you were a stuttering mess - only getting worse when he told you he was one of the princes of Kattegat, but from there a friendship was formed between the two of you. He told you several months later that when he became king he wanted you by his side as his wife and queen, at first you thought he was joking but his face said otherwise. When the brothers and the Great Heathen Army went to England to avenge king Ragnar’s death, Ivar made sure he took you with him, against the wishes from his brothers, whilst over there you two got married and from that moment he called you queen. “I love you and only you, Ivar.”

His only reaction was to pout. The ruthless, fearless Ivar the Boneless sat there on the bed he shared with his wife pouting. “You could if you want.”

“Could what, my love?”

“Have him, or-or anyone.” He whispered, twisting your wedding ring around. “It can not be easy with being married to a cripple.”

“I do not wish, want or need anyone else Ivar. I am happy, I am loved- you do love me d-”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence! You know I love you.”

“And you know I love you.” Turning you hand around, linking your fingers with his. “Please never ever doubt me.”

“I didn’t like the way he was holding you.”

“We were just dancing Ivar.”

“Still don’t like it.” He huffed. “Only I get to touch you.”

“Yes, only you get to touch me.” Lifting up and walking over to the vanity you removed the heavy crown that was given to you by Ivar, you began to attempt to undo your dress.

“Want a hand, my love?”

“Please.”

“Come here then my beautiful queen.” Standing between his legs, your skin began to tingle as he fingers danced along your bare skin. Turning around as the dress pooled around your ankles, his hands went straight to your naked waist. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Climbing into bed after helping Ivar undress, he instantly pulled you closer to him and wrapped his arms around you. “Ivar?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I like it when your jealous.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m never jealous.”

“No, of course not.” Giggling at the memories of all the times Ivar threatened and even killed men who looked at you longer than he deemed necessary, doing it all out of jealousy. “The great Ivar the boneless doesn’t get jealous.”

Rolling his eyes once again with a soft smile tugging at his lips as your giggles filled the room. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

Tags: @cheesesandwichsanto

[zoeaxrodriguez22]

CONQUEROR

𝐙𝐚𝐱'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝: One Shot 𐙚 Ivar the Boneless x Fem Reader (Amira) 𐙚

Summary: Amira, the daughter of a prominent emir in Al-Andalus, faces Ivar the Boneless, the ruthless Viking king who has taken everything by force. Their reunion stirs conflicting emotions—respect for his strength and power, but disdain for his methods. A tense conversation ensues, where admiration and bitter opposition collide. Can Amira survive in his world, or will she be consumed by it?

Warnings/Contains: Tension, conflicting respect, ideologies, manipulation, power dynamics, not proofread—English is not my first language!

Word count: 2.3k

Chapter:

The night outside was frigid, but the warmth of the fire crackling in the center of the tent softened the air. The light from the candles flickered, casting shadows on the walls and making the space feel even more intimate. Amira and Ivar sat across from each other, the distance between them physical but not emotional, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills.

Ivar’s gaze never wavered as he raised his glass, the deep red wine reflecting the glow of the fire in his eyes. He drank slowly, savoring each drop as though the action itself held meaning. Amira watched him with an unreadable expression, her own glass untouched, the warmth of the wine tempting but not enough to ease the tension coiled tightly in her chest.

“So, here we are,” Ivar said, setting his glass down with a quiet thud. “You and I, after all this time. Who would’ve thought?”

Amira didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she studied him, her gaze sharp, calculating. She wasn’t one to let emotions cloud her judgment.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” she finally said, her voice cold, but steady. “Not like this. A king.”

A small, dark smile played at the corner of Ivar’s lips, but his eyes were still intense. “And yet, here I am.” His tone held no arrogance, just the weight of the fact he had always known this moment would come.

Amira felt a flicker of respect for his confidence, even if it was hard to swallow. The man before her was no longer the crippled prince she had once known, but a king, a leader of men who commanded the respect of thousands. She couldn’t deny that there was power in him, something undeniable, something that stirred a complex mix of admiration and bitterness inside her.

“Power suits you,” she said, her voice quiet but sharp, like a blade being drawn from its sheath. “But I don’t think it’s what you think it is.”

Ivar tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “And what do you think power is, Amira?”

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not just taking. It’s understanding. It’s knowing when to lead and when to listen.” Her gaze flicked briefly to the guards outside, standing tall at attention, but she returned her focus to him. “What you do, Ivar, is conquest. And I know you like it that way.”

He leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. “Conquest is what makes the world turn, Amira. The strong take what they want, and the weak are left behind. That’s the way of things.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice steady despite the bitterness that began to rise in her chest. “But that doesn’t mean it’s right.”

Ivar chuckled softly, but there was no real amusement in it. “You’re naïve if you think anyone can change that. The world doesn’t care about what’s right or wrong. It only cares about who’s strong enough to shape it.”

Amira’s lips pressed together in a thin line, her jaw tightening. “I don’t believe that. Strength isn’t just in bloodshed. It’s in wisdom, in compassion, in strategy.”

He regarded her silently for a moment, his sharp gaze measuring her every word. “You admire strength,” he said, almost as a statement, “but you despise how I use it.”

She leaned back slightly in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “You use it to destroy, not to build.”

Ivar’s smile returned, but there was no warmth in it. “You see destruction where others see opportunity. I’ve built an empire, Amira. You can respect that, even if you can’t agree with the way I did it.”

Amira’s gaze flicked to the fire, her mind racing. She respected his mind, his sharpness, his relentless pursuit of his goals. But everything about the way he approached life—his ruthlessness, his disregard for the lives of those beneath him—disgusted her.

“I respect your strength, Ivar,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, more controlled. “But I don’t respect your methods. And I never will.”

There was a long silence between them, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. Ivar didn’t flinch, but something in his eyes flickered—a momentary flicker of doubt, of something more human beneath the king’s facade.

“I don’t need your respect,” he said, his voice quieter now, a touch of frustration creeping into his tone. “But I do need you.”

Amira met his gaze steadily, unyielding. “You think you can just take me, like everything else you’ve claimed?”

“I never said it would be easy,” Ivar replied, his voice low and serious. “But you’re not just anyone. You’re the one thing I can’t get out of my head. The one thing I need.”

Amira felt a pang in her chest at his words, but she swallowed it down. She wouldn’t let him see how his words affected her. Not now.

“You’re still the same,” she said, the words cutting deeper than she intended. “Chasing after things that aren’t yours to take.”

“I never take what isn’t offered,” Ivar said, his voice low, almost soft. “But I will make you see that you belong with me. One way or another.”

The finality in his tone settled over the room like a cloud, and for the first time, Amira felt the full weight of the man he had become. His words weren’t a challenge—they were a promise.

She knew there was no escape from him. Not now.

[blakeswritingimagines]

How do you love (Kinktober day 6)

Warnings: Fear play, Begging, Under tones of edging, Possessive Dom Ivar x Sub Fem reader

Word count: 1.9k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Vikings characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

You whimpered as you shook your head as he took and used you while you had tried to stop him, hearing him only laugh at your attempts as it seemed to only move his hips harder against your own as your nails dug into his back. Moaning his name softly as your head tilted back and your legs wrapped around his waist holding him close "Ivar please." "My lovely wife is begging me now. Please what?" Ivar asked between labored breaths, his voice dropping low and rough. His eyes remained locked on you as he moved his body over her, pushing his hips as far into your body as he could. Ivar replied in a teasing sing-song voice, pulling away to smirk. "Beg more for me."

You furrowed your brows and bit your lower lip. Beg more? you thought and paused for a moment, then whispered, "Please… you are hurting me, my love. Please… be gentle… I beg you…" You whispered quietly but still trying to not show any signs of actually wanting to give in. "Is that what you want, for me to be gentle?" Ivar asked between breaths, looking down at you with a mocking, amused smile. "Why would I want to do that?" Ivar grabbed your chin tightly between his fingers, keeping you from looking away as he asked his next question. "That doesn't sound like begging, my lady. Why don't you try again with a little more conviction?" He taunted, his voice still low and rough as he moved his hips harder. He could feel your legs wrapped around him, holding tight.

You were starting to moan more and pleasure was starting to overwhelm your body, which showed by your eyes wide and mouth slightly open. You took a deep breath before whispering "Please…my love… I beg you… don't hurt me… I love you… and I just don't want to be hurt anymore. Please, my love…" You whispered in the most innocent voice you could muster while tears started rolling down your cheeks. You kept silent, pretending to fear anything you would say could make things worse. Ivar was satisfied by how convincing your voice was. He felt your body shaking under him, and the sounds you made as you moved with his fast-paced hips. He lowered himself until his body was pressed against yours before leaning down to kiss your neck softly. "Now that's better," he whispered softly, as he continued kissing the side of your neck, leaving hickeys on your soft skin. "What would you do if I told you to beg for more, my love?" he asked in a low and rough voice. "Again." He ordered, leaning over you as he looked up at your face. His eyes were piercing. "This time show me some fear." He demanded, a cruel smirk crossing his lips.

You let out a soft moan of pleasure as Ivar kissed your neck, your eyelids fluttering shut. You couldn't help it, you liked him hurting you. The feeling of his lips on your delicate neck was driving you crazy and made you wet between your legs, wanting more. "Please, my love… I beg you…" You whispered, your voice sounding meek and scared as tears slowly rolled down your cheeks. "Please… I just don't want to be hurt anymore…I am yours…and I… I just don't want to… please." You cried, your voice trembling as you spoke through the pleasure. "My, what a convincing performance," Ivar replied, leaning over you again with a cruel smirk. He kissed your neck, his tongue gliding across your skin as he bit the tender flesh softly. He paused to study you for a moment, his breathing quickening as he drank in your fear. "Good girl." He said finally, his eyes flickering over your exposed body, "You might be able to convince me to stop. However, I am afraid you will have to speak louder than that," He mocked, bringing his lips closer to your ear. "I am a hard man and I need to feel your desperation with my ears as well as other parts of my body." He whispered, teasing you and bringing his hips closer to yours. "Tell me how much you love me and that I am the only one for you." He ordered.

Your breathing got heavier and your heart started to beat fast as you felt your own wetness on your thighs. Your eyes were still shut, and a soft moan left your mouth as you felt Ivar's tongue on your neck. Your breath was coming in short, ragged gasps as you listened to Ivar's words. The thought of him hearing you beg for mercy and having you begging at his feet got you extremely hot. A part of you that was already submissive was taking over and you didn't seem to notice. "Please… my love…" You whispered again, begging for him to continue to hurt you. "Please… don't stop… I need you I love you, Ramsay… I need you…" Your voice sounded like a whisper. "You are the love of my life… my one and only love… and I belong to you, my love… I am yours… My body, my everything." You breathed heavily, loving every moment of what was happening. "That's more like it." He said, smirking. "Good girl." Ivar's movements became more aggressive and he brought himself closer to your neck, kissing and giving little nips to your soft skin. His hips began to rock with more intensity as if he couldn't resist himself or hold himself back. "No." He whispered, his lips close to your ear. "You will do better." Ivar was getting close, and he could feel your body shuddering from the touch of his lips. He kissed and licked your neck slowly as he kept his hips pushing into yours roughly, "Beg." He commanded. "Beg like the good girl you are."

"P-please!" You cried, your voice sounded weak and in need of help. "I-I need this, my love!" Your voice still showed a sign of fear, trying desperately to not look weak but at the same time showing your need for Ivar. "I-I need you, my love." You moaned out loud, your voice breaking. "P-please, I am yours." You begged for more, begging for Ivar to give her all of him. "That's what I thought." Ivar muttered, before looking up at you and pressing his lips close to your ear once more, as if to whisper something. He held the moment for a moment, before letting out a vicious laugh as he bit down hard on your neck, right above your shoulder. He held the bite for a moment, before letting go with a wicked grin, looking back at you, his eyes cold as ice. "Tell me again how much you wanna come around me." He demanded. You moaned out loud as you felt his tongue on your shoulder continuing to mark your body and your nails dug into his back. There was no way to control your body as you kept moving in accordance with his, each thrust of his hips drove you closer to the edge. Your breath was getting heavy and you moaned his name loudly once again. "Please, I can't hold it in any longer," you begged again. Your body quivered and you felt the intense pleasure spreading throughout.

"Oh, my dear lady, that pleasure is mine to command." Ivar said teasingly, letting out a low chuckle, "Speak to me, my love. Tell me again how much I own you. How much you need me, my love." He teased, before whispering something in your ears. Something that only gave your body further tingles. You looked at him as he kept whispering into your ear, your lips parted slightly and you groaned his name again. He felt your body trembling as he looked at you. "Please, I'm yours. I want nothing more than that." You begged him. "I need you so much, my love." You felt his breath hot and heavy against your skin, you felt his lips kiss your neck, then your shoulders, and down along your chest. "Just take me, Ivar." You begged again. "Oh my love, your begging is really quite pitiful. Perhaps I am being too kind to you." Ivar whispered, letting out a low chuckle, that turned into a grin after a few moments, "Please tell me that I am the cruel, brutal, cold, and sadistic bastard that you are hopelessly in love with. I want to hear you beg again."

"Yes, yes you are cruel, vicious, and cold. And I can't live without you." You felt his hands moving over your body and down your legs. "I need you, please don't stop." You begged. Your body trembled under him as you felt every move he made. Your breath was heavy as you heard him whispering in your ears again, your body trembled once more as you closed your eyes and tilted your head aside. "Please, my love, please." You moaned. You felt the lust take over you and consume you completely with no turning back. "My love, I need you," you moaned again. You opened your eyes once more. "I know of nothing else except your love for me." You sighed. "I love you with all my heart. You are the most beautiful man in the world." "Your begging and praise fuels me. It makes me feel powerful and in control. I love listening to the sweet sounds that come out of your lips. How you beg for me and crave me. Knowing that my mere presence fills you with a rush, and makes you squirm with a burning passion. It just makes me want to have you always." Ivar whispered, moving his hands up your thighs as he looked up at you, smiling and breathing heavily before letting his rough fingers tease your clit.

You couldn’t wait anymore, and as you felt him teasing your spent body your climax was rising, you couldn’t hold anymore. And you let out the biggest, sweetest, and most passionate sounds he may have heard. With the heat from his touch, your body was shaking and trembling even more, and you couldn’t hold it anymore as you tightened around his cock. While all this time he knew it was coming soon, the feeling of him made you want to feel it more and more. It was a mix of the feeling of the sensation you were experiencing and the heat he made you feel. "That's it, my love, let go of it, feel it, and enjoy it all," Ivar whispered as the sounds of pleasure from your lips filled his ears. A grin danced on his lips as he felt your body shudder from the immense pleasure he was providing you, and Ivar could feel his own climax nearing. His own breathing got heavier, his movements becoming more forceful and eager feeling you milk his cock.

You gasped due to the sensitivity as Ivar moved a little closer to your body. His lips brushed against your neck as your body shuddered from the sensation, "You are mine and I am yours, my love. I control your every emotion you experience, I make you feel things that no other human being will ever make you feel. This pleasure, this bliss that I give you is mine and yours, and no one else's. I am your master, you are my slave. There is nothing else to it." He whispered into your ear before he kissed you tenderly on the lips.

[redskull199987]

Show Masterlist

the Masterlist for all the shows/Series that I write fo

Masterpost

BBC Sherlock :

-Sherlock x fem!reader

Dr. Who:

-11th Doctor x fem!reader

Broadchurch:

-nothing yet

Warehouse 13:

-nothing yet

Supernatural:

-Castiel x fem!reader

-Jack Kline x fem!reader

Criminal Minds:

-nothing yet

Good Omens:

-nothing yet

The Sandman:

-Morpheus x fem!reader

Takin' over the Asylum:

-Morpheus x male!reader

Dead Boy Detectives

-nothing yet

-nothing yet

Umbrella Academy:

-Umbrella Academy x gn!reader

The Witcher:

-Cahir x gn!reader

-Cahir x fem!Witcher!reader

-Jaskier x fem!reader

-Eskel x fem!Witcher!reader

Young Royals

-nothing yet

Cobra Kai

-Johnny Lawrence and Daniel LaRusso x male!reader general Dating Headcanons

Heartstopper

-nothing yet

The walking Dead

-Carl Grimes x fem!reader

I am not okay with this:

-nothing yet

American Horror Story:

-nothing yet

Peaky Blinders:

-nothing yet

The artful Dodger :

-nothing yet

Fleabag:

-nothing yet

The Queens Gambit:

-nothing yet

Stranger Things:

-Eddie Munson x fem!reader

The Boys

-nothing yet

Gen V:

-nothing yet

Ragnarok:

-nothing yet

Vikings:

-Ivar the Boneless x gn!reader Part 1

Ivar the Boneless x gn!reader Part 2

-Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader Part 1

Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader Part 2

-Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

-Ivar the Boneless x gn!reader

-Lagertha x fem!reader

-Ragnar x Lagertha x fem!reader

Arcane

-Silco x gn!reader

-Viktor x gn!reader

-Viktor x gn!reader

Mech Cadets:

-nothing yet

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss:

-nothing yet

The crowded Room

-nothing yet

One Piece live Action

-nothing yet

Paradise City:

-nothing yet

MacGyver (2016):

-nothing yet

Hannibal (2013):

-nothing yet

Avatar:The last Airbender Live Action:

-nothing yet

[sirthisisa-wendys]

I just wanted to know if there was ever a part 5 of the high priestess if there is can I get a link I can’t find it, cuzzzzz that was so good girl, I absolutely love your writing, I wish I had you writing skills tbh lol anyways keep up the good work, love youuuu🩷🩷🩷

[milkb0nny]

Hii, first of all it makes me so happy to see someone writing for Ivar in the year of our Lord 2025, and so well too you deserve more love!

I really enjoyed your works. Since requests look to be open could I ask for some fluffy headcanons about Ivar and his wife during feasts/celebrations? I’m a bit introverted and tend to keep to myself if that helps, but please do your thing and I look forward to anything you come up with!

Ivar with...

an introverted wife during a festive feast...

Pairing: Ivar x fem!reader

Note: I rarely get requests because the fandom is rather dying. I still notice a quiet presence of people enjoying Vikings and liking to read fanfics. I mean, I do too! So thank you so much for finding the courage to slide into my ask box! I included some dialogue perhaps it portrays my intention a little better??

Content: established relationships, fluff, wholesomeness, anxious reader, introverted reader

“Stop wringing your hands, love. They’ll start to bleed.”

⚜️ Ivar has a sharp eye, especially when it comes to you. He knows you so well and therefore observes you constantly. The second he sees you fidgeting nervously, avoiding eye contact, or hesitating to engage with others, he knows you’re not too uncomfortable. His observant nature means he can sense your unease even before you tell him.

“You’ll sit here, next to me. Let them try to bother you while I’m around.”

⚜️ Before the feast even begins, Ivar ensures that you’re seated in a way that keeps you away from the loudest, most boisterous individuals. He places you right next to him, acting as a physical and emotional barrier between you and the chaos. Sometimes you like to banter around with the women, and he doesn’t mind. But incase everything gets too much, you have a rather quiet space in the room.

“Look at Hvitserk. How many mugs do you think it’ll take before he dances on the table? My bet’s three.”

⚜️ Ivar isn’t known for being gentle with most people, but with you, he softens. Throughout the evening, he leans close to whisper jokes or biting comments about the crowd to distract you.

⚜️ Ivar’s way of lightening the mood often involves humor. He’ll joke about how everyone else was far more embarrassing than you anxiety could ever be. Perhaps that would make you less conscious about other people’s opinions.

“You’re doing fine, Krútt. They don’t deserve your attention anyway.”

⚜️ While Ivar isn’t overly touchy in public, he makes exceptions when you’re incredibly overwhelmed. His hand might rest protectively on your knee under the table, or he’ll brush his fingers along your arm to remind you that you’re not alone.

“Mind me telling you some tales? It’s far more entertaining than watching my wife blush so lovingly.”

⚜️ If anyone tries to draw too much attention to you, Ivar is quick to redirect it elsewhere. Whether it’s calling out Ubbe for something embarrassing or telling a story about himself, he ensures all eyes are off his wife.

⚜️ Ivar subtly pushes you to engage in ways that won’t overwhelm you. If someone offers you a drink or a kind word, he gently nudges you to respond. Your answer through a nod or a smile is often enough for him and the people around you.

“Come, let’s leave these fools to their noise. They won’t notice we’re gone.”

⚜️ If it becomes too much for you, Ivar doesn’t hesitate to make an early exit. He’d rather waive the feast than watch you suffer.

⚜️ Ivar’s mix of protective fierceness and surprising tenderness ensures that even in the bustling chaos of a feast, his introverted wife feels seen, supported, and loved. And that, is you.