#modern ubbe

[therealvikingstrash]

Jordan Patrick Smith in Lovecraft Country

[istorkyou]

The Price Of Love (Modern!Ivar AU) Masterpost

A Modern!Ivar x F Reader

Note - This is the second fic I ever wrote and I’m not sure why I never posted it. I think I started writing The Arrangement not long after and kind of fell out of love with this one. Still, it’s been festering in my completed docs for well over a year so I figure I might as well post it 😬 It’s fluffy, and maybe a little cheesy (and by a little I mean a lot!) so if that’s your bag I hope you enjoy it! I will post a bunch of chapter all at once.

Warnings - See individual chapters. STRICTLY 18+

Synopsis - Money isn’t everything.

Moodboard - The beautiful moodboard is made the magical, amazing @serasvictoria. Thank you so much xxxx

This was beta read by my aussie wife who has left Tumblr. All love, all the time Lou x

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

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

[heavenlymorals]

A Grave in Autumn

Summary: After getting a call from his wife that his youngest son is at the hospital and may not make it, Ragnar Lothbrok takes a moment to visit the grave of his dead daughter. If his son were to die, it wouldn't be his first rodeo.

Modern AUs are always so fun to read and so hard to write. I did have fun with this though 🍂 (Gyda deserved better-). Also, small headcanon, but I picture modern Ivar to be a least somewhat into goth fashion/culture. Where does this headcanon come from? From the fact that he had no fucking color in his wardrobe in the series.

All around him, the leaves were an ombre of red, orange, and yellow. The wind blew viciously across the branches and leaves fluttered all around him like sparks of tepid fire. The leaves would wisp all around him, clinging to his coat, to his hair, to his beard. Ragnar got annoyed and would pinch the wonderfully dead foliage and drop it mindlessly on the ground. The leaf, whether red or orange or yellow, would cover up the drab brown leaves that crunched loudly under each heavy footprint. 

Autumn was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. All around him, he could see its beauty. Mother nature was a wonderful artist, no doubt. As far as Ragnar Lothbrok was concerned, no one could try to replicate her designs even if they wished to. Or maybe it was God’s design, who knew? He wore a golden cross with him almost all the time, a gift from his dearest friend Athelstan who either A. died a long time ago, or B. disappeared so he would never have to deal with the downward spiral that was Ragnar Lothbrok. If it was the latter, Ragnar couldn’t blame him. He was a toxic friend, a terrible person. Abandonment was far too kind of a fate for him. 

He kept walking along the trail. It was dusty and old. It seemed that the church to whom the cemetery belonged fell on hard times. The trail wasn’t crisp in its lines. All around it, one could see the breaching of sickly dead weeds strangling the grass. They were now a yellowish color, which reminded Ragnar heavily of vomit. He would know. He used to drink a lot. Did crack a lot. He threw up many times, the aroma becoming dimmer and dimmer on his nose each time it happened. After a while, it simply became an inconvenience, like how muscles would get sore after a good day at the gym. 

That was…terrifying, looking back at it, now, on the straight and narrow and sober. How he was so willing to overlook such significant things to escape his misery through artificial ecstasy. Getting high and getting drunk was his happiness. What made it worse was that he was still Ragnar Lothbrok, smart, lucky Ragnar Lothbrok, who could achieve whatever he wished. He was still running his business to a T. He was still making money. He was still skyrocketing into fame and fortune. Because of this, he couldn’t bring himself to care that this was wrong. 

Sober. He’s sober now. He’d still drink now and then, but he was still sober. He’d never touch any recreational drug ever again. 

As he kept walking across the trail, he came face to face with an iron fence. The fence itself was this fine between being of minimalist style and dabbling in the intricate gothic fashion that many cemeteries were fond of. As he opened the gate, it creaked loudly. Somewhat ought to oil the thing. 

He kept walking across that dingy trail until all around him were a plethora of tombstones. He absent-mindedly made note of the shapes. Square-top headstones. Ogee headstones. Arc tops and check tops. The iconic cross headstones, becoming dull at the edges from the constant wind and rain. Some of the headstones had angels carved onto them. One of them caught Ragnar’s eye. The angel was in the image of a young girl. Her hair was adorned with thick, Grecian curls as she looked down at the grave ledger with her hands clasped together and her eyes closed in a solemn expression. Her dress cascaded down her in intricate folds and from the back, two small wings spread out delicately. The whole headstone was made of marble and the ledger was a polished black ingrained with gold. 

It must have been expensive. 

Ragnar sighed and continued walking, passing more tombs, some simple, some not. Some were clean and others were forgotten, as evidenced by the green moss and the stained brown that defiled them. He kept walking up the trail till he made it up to a secluded corner in the cemetery. There weren't any other tombs in this area, thus it looked almost abandoned. Shading the entire thing was a proud Norway Maple. It looked like it was on fire, with how bright it was. If he touched a leaf, he was sure that he might’ve burned his finger. The ravens seem fine though, cawing proudly and dancing on the branches. Fitting that the ravens were here. Ever a companion of death. Ever since ‘God’ and ‘Jesus’ weren’t the ones who held dominion over the heavens, but Odin and his brood. 

The leaves fell again and covered what Ragnar was looking for. 

A flat tombstone.

Perhaps it would make sense to know why he was looking for this unassuming little slab of rock. Why he was trekking through this cemetery. Why he gazed so intently on the guardian angel that prayed over that anonymous deceased. 

A few days ago, he got a call from his wife, Aslaug. He used the term loosely. His marriage to Aslaug came from a place of practicality more than a place of love. He met the woman at a club and well, one thing led to another, and they slept together. Other than to relieve his hard-on with a beautiful woman, he also did it as an act of revenge. Before that fateful night, he learned that his  wife, now ex-wife, Lagertha, had been sleeping with his brother while they were together and that his oldest son, Bjorn, might’ve never been his child. Thankfully, one discreet DNA check later revealed that Bjorn WAS his son, but Ragnar was still pissed. He slept with Aslaug, made it rather easy for Lagertha to figure out, and then left. 

And being rather petty back then, he wasted no time courting Aslaug after he found out she was pregnant with his child and making her fall in love with him just as a final ‘fuck you’ to Lagertha. It rubbed salt in Lagertha’s wounds that Aslaug was pregnant as they tried many times after Bjorn’s birth to have another child but failed over and over again. 

Looking back at it now, since he is older and at least somewhat wiser, he could only cringe at how childish he was, how needlessly petty. 

In any case, he didn’t love Aslaug in the same way that he used to love Lagertha. He loved her as the mother of his children, but besides that? No. He didn’t love her. This then lead to many issues in their relationship, which could have contributed to his affairs with drugs and alcohol and her similar bouts with alcohol.

They managed to sort that whole business out, somehow. For now, they were simply married for convenience and neither of them was particularly keen on destroying that convenience. 

Anywho, yes, he got a call from Aslaug and a deep pit of blackness threatened to consume him whole. He still remembered how the phone buzzed in his pocket, how he narrowed his eyes as he saw the caller ID, how he swiped to answer, all of that.

And how his heart sank as he received this terrible news.

“Ragnar?”

“Who else then? What’s going on, Aslaug?” 

Silence on the other end of the line. He swore he could’ve heard a choked sound, one that came from a person trying to swallow their pain and misery. 

“Aslaug?”

“It’s Ivar. Oh, God, it’s Ivar,” the mother of his children seemed frantic, hysteric. Her breathing came out ragged.

“What about him,” Ragnar asked, trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t even know what was going on. 

“He was with Hvitserk. He was supposed to pick Ivar up from school. I don’t know what the hell they were doing, but they got into a crash. Hvitserk got out lucky with only a broken arm but Ivar- You know how fragile he is. The doctors are not sure if he’ll make it.”

Ragnar couldn’t bring himself to say much. Aslaug gave him the name of the hospital and that was that. He ended the call and quickly rushed into the closest car he could get to (Ubbe always muttered that he had too many cars), broke a couple of speed limits, and made it into the hospital.

It was a complete pain in the goddamn ass to get the workers to let him see his son, but eventually, he was escorted to a little hallway with shitty little plastic waiting chairs. Aslaug was not there at that moment. She went back to bring things for her boy when (if) he woke up. Ubbe was there, ever the responsible one, pacing back and forth, worry creased into his forehead, He always had that expression on, ever the worrier. He looked somewhat relieved when he saw Ragnar. Sigurd, to Ragnar’s surprise, was sitting on one of the chairs and crossed his arms. There was a look of worry on his pale face, and every now and then, he would look back at the sterile little room that housed his little brother. He didn’t bother to greet Ragnar. They didn’t have the best relationship (Ragnar’s fault, obviously) and Sigurd was a headstrong bastard, so there was little Ragnar could do to mend their relationship if Sigurd didn’t care to do so. Hvitserk was also sitting beside Sigurd and his face looked paralyzed in shock, fear, and worry. It had been a bit since Ragnar had seen Hvitserk in person, as his son seemed to inherit that addictive personality that Ragnar and his mother unfortunately had. He too fell into the vice of alcohol and drugs. A younger Ragnar probably would’ve blamed Hvitserk’s addictions on his lack of self-control and poor wisdom, but an older, somewhat wiser Ragnar, could sympathize with him. After all, he knew damn well that he had a part in Hvitserk’s benders. 

Hvitserk would party a lot and he was an elusive little bastard too, so he couldn’t be found unless he wanted to be found. Somehow, someway, Ivar managed to get his older brother out of hiding and force him into rehab. He was doing well for a bit, until now it seemed. 

Ragnar learned that Hvitserk was high as a kite when he was driving. Weed. He was supposed to pick up Ivar from school and bring him home.

And then this happened. 

Ragnar looked at Hvitserk, at his sunken eyes, at his too-pale skin, at his greasy long hair, and wanted to scream at him for being such a stupid, stupid fool- What the fuck made him relapse like this? 

He didn’t though. He didn’t scream at him. The horrified look on his face was enough for Ragnar to know that Hvitserk was already being punished enough by his own guilt. Ragnar could sympathize. He was a man who needed a good push to change, and for Ragnar, his push was the horrified expressions on Ubbe and Hvitserk’s faces when he tried to strangle his dealer for not giving him what he wanted. No, what he needed at that time. The girl, Yidu, quickly fled the scene and he was glad that she did. He would’ve killed her otherwise. 

Perhaps Hvitserk’s push would be this. 

Or maybe he would fall apart even further. 

Time can only tell. 

He sighed and sat next to Hvitserk, rubbing his face in his hands. Hvitserk didn’t even acknowledge him. His whole being seemed encased with ice, as he cradled his broken arm in his sling. Ragnar gently wrapped his arm around Hvitserk and Hvitserk all but sunk into his side. 

A few moments later the doctor quietly said that they could see him, but only one at a time. Ubbe went first, then Sigurd, and then Ragnar. Hvitserk didn’t move an inch. Too guilty for his part in this mess. 

Ivar’s life will never be one without complications. His youngest son was always going to have to live his life with some sort of complication. That was stamped on his head the second he was born with osteogenesis imperfecta, otherwise known as brittle bone disease. Now, Ivar was lucky in the sense that his OI wasn’t as severe as other cases, but it seemed to have taken a personal vendetta on his legs, as that was the part of him that was the most severely affected. Thanks to modern medicine and technology and whatnot, his legs are not as wasted as they could’ve been, but the breaks he suffered from them rendered him unable to walk without assistance. 

As he walked into the room, he felt as if he was dumped with a bucket of ice water. His little boy looked so small to him in that bed, in that familiar hospital gown, with all those wires and bandages attached to him. His face was covered with a breathing mask and Ragnar would think he was dead if it weren’t for the soft beeping of the machines singing in the background and the one stereotypical screen of a green line zig-zagging up and down. 

Ragnar felt overwhelmed with the same feeling that he had a million times over whenever Ivar had to go to the hospital. It never got better. He has been to hospitals so many times that he was honestly qualified enough to be a technician since he knew the machines so well. It never got any better and this time, it was worse, since this was the first time where the doctor was not entirely sure that his little boy will be ok. 

He stayed for a while and left the hospital later when the sun became occulted by night. 

He woke up the next day and went to go to the hospital but then did a detour to the old cemetery. 

It wasn’t the first time he lost a child. He knows that Ivar isn’t dead, but he knew if he would be, it would be a similar feeling to how he felt all those years ago when he lost his sweet little girl, Gyda, and how he wasn’t able to say goodbye to her because he was out chasing his two-faced dreams and making his two-faced name. That broke him the most. That he wasn’t able to say goodbye to her. If Ivar was to go, at least he would be able to cope. It wouldn’t be his first rodeo, after all. 

Sometimes, he thought about Gyda, about who she would be if she was given the chance to grow up. He sometimes had little dreams of a grown-up Gyda, who looked suspiciously like Lagertha except for dark hair and silver eyes, making him proud. In some dreams, she would jump into his arms with a diploma clutched in slender hands. In other dreams, she would proudly show off her successes in the fashion industry, as that was something he remembered his little girl obsessing over before she died. He tried to spoil her as much as he can back then, a father’s duty to his daughter, with whatever it is she wanted and that he could afford. If only he could spoil her now, with this multi-million (almost billion) dollar empire that he was able to procure with his blood, sweat, tears, and luck. A whole lot of luck. 

What would Gyda think of her old man today, now that was the question. How would she feel knowing that the father that she knew, the doting father who was always a rock in a raging ocean, ever so stalwart, was not that same father for his other kids? Gyda and Bjorn were lucky in that regard. They knew their father before he became obsessed with material life. They knew the best version of their father. And he was still that father in the first few years of Ubbe and Hvitserk’s lives, but soon afterward, he became distant and aloof. He couldn’t lie to himself. He was a bad father to his four other children. He had his moments of course, but most of the time, he was just a filthy, junky mess, and whatever relationship he could’ve had with his sons were either nipped at the bud or so fragile that eggshells would seem like titanium. 

Gyda would hate him, probably. He hated himself. He would probably continue hating himself till the end of times. For what he robbed of these poor boys, for how he left them to the wolves. If forgiveness would ever come from his sons, and Ragnar doubted it ever could, he would be able to die in the peace he never deserved. 

He sighed. He kneeled and wiped away the leaves that occulted the name on the flat marker.

Gyda Lothbrok. 

Ragnar felt guilt pierce through his heart when he saw the state of the thing. God, how long has it been since he has last been here? Or Lagertha? The stone was stained a sickly green, and some of the letters were discolored. As Ragnar looked at the marker, he thought about the more grandiose headstones that littered the cemetery. He then looked at this flat one, so unassuming and insignificant that he had to card through leaves for an entire two minutes before he could find the thing. She should’ve had a larger stone. One with an angel on it. She was an angel. 

However, it felt sordid to think about digging her back up to give her a better stone at a better plot. 

To make himself feel better, he would simply describe the headstone as humble. Yes, that. Humble. Gyda was a humble girl. 

Ivar will get the angel, then, if he doesn’t make it. He’d probably like that, considering his recent adventures in the gothic macabre. 

“Hello, Gyda…” 

His voice felt strange to him. As if it didn’t belong to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited for a while.” 

I’m sorry that I am only visiting because of the guilt I feel for my other sons. I am sorry that I am only visiting because I am not sure if my youngest, if my baby will survive. If he doesn’t, be kind to him, yes? He’s a stubborn boy. 

He didn’t say that out loud. 

The ravens kept cackling. The leaves kept stirring. Ragnar stayed there for a long time, speaking to this grave in cold Autumn before going back to the sterile haven of the hospital. 

[kaybee87]

Just a little something for the current heatwave. 880 words of filth basically

Warnings: NSFW. Minors DNI. Oral female receiving, p in v, mild choking

Ubbe and f!reader

Heat

It was hot, hell no it was hotter than hot it was damn unbearable. It had been like this for days now and you weren’t used to it and your country was not equipped to deal with it, roads were melting, trains and planes cancelled. The warnings were to stay indoors out of the sun but with no air conditioning you lay on your sofa in just your underwear the fan doing nothing but blow hot air around the stifling room. You’d eaten nothing but ice lollies for days but you couldn’t bring yourself to cook or eat.

The door to your house opened and closed again and you could hear your boyfriend coming down the hallway. “Gods woman what if I wasn’t alone?” Your boyfriend questioned checking out your clothing or rather lack of. “Don’t care! Too hot!” You responded. Ubbe chuckled at you, “too hot for proper sentences also?” At this you just nodded your head which still felt like too much effort. You don’t know how he could stand there in his suit trousers and shirt, cuffs rolled up to his elbows. You suddenly become even hotter and you couldn’t tell if it was because the idea of wearing that many clothes made you feel faint or the way he filled them out set its own fire inside of you. “I’m going to shower,” Ubbe yelled on his way up the stairs.

You removed your underwear in your bedroom whilst making your way to your en-suite. You stopped to take in the sight of your boyfriend in the huge clear glass shower, back muscles rippling as he went about his routine, arse pert and on display and thighs that made you drool at all times. When Ubbe had first decided he wanted this ridiculously big shower with all its different sprays and taps, lights and god knows what else you’d decided it was just unnecessarily over complicated but its size alone had come in handy on more than one occasion. There had also been times when Ubbe had been away on business that you’d made use of some of the lower jets in particularly lonely moments.

“You just gonna keep staring or you planning on joining me?” He hadn’t even turned around just sensed you there, knew like always where you were in a room. Stepping into the shower you let out a little shriek as the cold water hit you, goosebumps rose over your skin but after the initial shock you relished the fact that you were finally cool. Ubbe’s face nuzzled into your neck, his tongue lapping at the slight salty taste of your skin, his hard cock pressing into your lower back. Already struggling to suppress your moans he spins you round to face him, you lift your head to look at his face and you can see the mischief in his eyes and the smirk playing on his lips. His hand comes to your throat pushing you back into the shower wall, he directs the cold spray completely on you and your already hard nipples become painful. The grip on your throat tightens as his mouth dips to your left nipple, licking and biting at it before moving to do the same to the right.

Air rushes back into lungs as you feel the hand drop from your throat and Ubbe’s mouth travels down your body to where you’re craving him the most. He slaps your thigh, a sign to tell you to spread your legs and you do so without question, one leg is hoisted over his shoulder and his beard scratches at your thighs in the most delicious way. He wastes no time lapping at your overheated core, the combination of his tongue flicking at your clit and the coolness of the water forces your orgasm in record time. Ubbe continues lapping at your juices until you push his head away, too sensitive for him to carry on.

“You good?” He asks, taking in your somewhat floppy appearance. “So good!” “Great because I’m not finished with you yet!” Ubbe turns you around again, your face up against the cool shower wall, the water still raining down on you. He pushes your back down a little, helping to present you to him more fully. He guides his now painfully hard dick between your soaking wet folds and pushes his way into your entrance. It doesn’t matter how many times you two have done this it’s always amazing, always a stretch, you live for the slight burn of his cock stretching you out, you could never get bored of this. Ubbe’s pace is relentless and he leans over you to run circles on your clit bringing you to your second orgasm before exploding inside of you.

“Who would’ve thought that would be the best way to cool down?” You giggle allowing the water to cool your skin and wash away the evidence of your sinful deeds, the only remaining ones will be the bruises forming on your throat. “So worth leaving the air conditioned office for.” His eyes watch your face waiting for you to bite. “Heeeyyy,” you whine. Ubbe just chuckles and pulls you back against him, “we may need to cool down again later this weather isn’t going to let up”.

@serasvictoria @mylifeisactuallyamess @istorkyou

[peaceisadirtyword]

Enchanted (Ubbe/Reader)

A/N: Hello! This is the first fic I wrote for my project Summer in Kattegat based on the song Enchanted by Taylor Swift💕. It should have been posted yesterday but I had therapy and I finished way later than I thought and today I had a doctors appointment😭 But here it is! It’s maybe the worst one of the fics I’ve already written for this project, but it was the first one and I’m not very used to write for Ubbe so I’m sorry! It was nice to write for him though! It’s been a long time since I did it. 

Enjoy! Next one is with Hvitserk🥰 Thanks for reading!

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of cheating, heavy make out, mentions of alcohol, swearing. 

Words: +5k. (sorry)

Late evening shifts were your favourites. It was strange, as everyone preferred to have dinner at home and stay there with their partners, pets or children, watching movies, reading books… But you just moved to Kattegat and didn’t have a partner to stay with, being home alone every day was a bit boring after a while, and the evening shifts were better paid. Besides, he always came in during the evenings.

He’d just get out of work, you guessed, by the formal clothes he always wore. Sometimes he’d come accompanied by other people, other times he’d be all alone frowning over papers and making phone calls. Sometimes he’d order a cold beer, other times a strong coffee, once he ordered a tea.

Ubbe Lothbrok. Your coworker updated you on his entire life. The eldest of a dysfunctional family with an absent father and a mother that sometimes was absent too, with an older half-brother that barely acted like it and three younger brothers which he practically raised. That was probably why he had such a comforting and nurturing aura around him.

He had the sweetest smile, always polite and nice even when he obviously wasn’t having the best of days, and stunning, big blue eyes that left you breathless. It wasn’t healthy to have such a crush on a regular customer, you said to yourself every night after closing and coming back home, but you couldn’t help sighing as you remembered how beautiful was the smile he shot you when you gave him his coffee that day.

But every night he’d come in, and every night you’d spend hours sneaking glances at him, until he left. That night, though, it was a bit different.

You had just poured another glass of whisky to another one of your regulars. He was a nice man but perhaps abused alcohol a bit too much, especially during Friday evenings. He always tried to make you laugh so he could compliment you afterwards, and even if you had to fake all of your laughs, you did it anyway.

Ubbe didn’t look good when he crossed the door. Your smile faded slowly when he entered without saying a word, a stern expression on his face and clearly with something on his mind that bothered him. He sat on his usual table, near the big window from where you could see the fjord. It looked gorgeous, especially during the evenings when the sun would be a bit lower.

But he didn’t pay attention to the view nor looked at the bar to catch your attention. Biting your lip, you grabbed a plate and one of the kanelboller you had baked earlier that day. Before you could think about it twice, you approached his table, taking a deep breath for a bit of courage. The look on his face when you offered it to him with a small, shy smile on your face was priceless.

“I didn’t order this” he said with a small frown.

“I know, I just thought you look like you need it, I always eat one when I’m having a bad day and it gets much better” you replied with a giggle “Can I get you anything else?”

He looked taken aback, blinked a couple of times before nodding slowly. He cleared his throat.

“Um… A coffee perhaps? With milk, please, and a lot of sugar”

“Sure, just a moment” you smiled, nodding and quickly making your way back to the bar to prepare it. You could feel his eyes on you while you worked, and didn’t dare to look back at him until you left the coffee on his table.

The customers started to leave. Sometimes you’d glance at his table only to discover he had eaten the kanelboll and drank the coffee. Other times you’d caught him looking at you. Until you heard someone sitting on one of the stools at the bar, making you look up from the glasses you were drying and nearly gasping when you saw his big blue eyes looking right at you.

“Have we met?” he said softly, his voice suddenly sounding much more rough and intimate than when he ordered. The faint curve of a smile on his lips made him look even better.

“I… Don’t think so” you cleared your throat “I’d remember it, um… I’m Y/N” you smiled softly, clearing your throat and wondering if you’d look as bad as you thought after hours running up and down the local.

“I’m Ubbe” he nodded “You’re new in Kattegat, aren’t you?”

“Yes, kind of” you chuckled nervously “Just moved here, looking for a change of scenery, I guess…”

“Anyone would think that a young, pretty woman would prefer a change of scenery in Sicily or the south of France or Spain” he smiled, and you smiled back at him. How could you not?

“I’d say the south of Norway has its charm too” you replied, shrugging and trying to ignore the fact that he just called you pretty “It has handsome men, at least”

Was that as terrible as it sounded?

He chuckled then, and looked down before shaking his head.

“I’d say you might be too good for the men around here” he shrugged.

“How can you say it? You don’t know me yet” you smirked.

“You just gave me one of the best kanelboller I’ve ever tried. And I’ve tried a lot, my mother is Swedish” he said “And just because you thought I needed it”

“They always manage to put me in a good mood, I figured it could work with you too…”

“It did work” he nodded “Thank you, I’ve been having a very long day, family shit…” he rubbed his neck with a sigh “Sorry, I don’t mean to bore you with my problems…”

“No” you shook your head “You’re not boring me, it’s way better than cleaning this place” you frowned looking around “Want a beer?”

“Sure” he smiled again “In any case, I’d prefer to talk to you over dinner, if you feel like it”

“Oh” you chuckled “I’d love that… Um… I finish my shift in an hour or so…”

“Perfect” he shot you the biggest, most beautiful smile you had ever seen “I’ll wait for you, then”

_____________________________

You didn’t think Ubbe could be even more handsome, but the low light of the sunset made him look like a Norse God. His clear eyes narrowed slightly, bothered by the light, but he only had a big smile for you as soon as you turned to him. You wished you had put a bit more effort on dressing up that morning, but at least you wore a cute top and jeans. The denim jacket, which you realised with a sigh that matched Ubbe’s eyes, was a must in Scandinavia, even during summer.

“I know a place where we can grab some dinner” he cleared his throat as soon as you turned to him, biting your lip nervously “Would you prefer eating there or going to the beach to have a late picnic?”

Even if every single brain cell capable of reasoning in that moment screamed at you that it wasn’t smart or safe to go to a deserted beach while it was dark all alone with a man you didn’t even know, you ended up smiling and nodding  at his plan, convincing yourself that he didn’t look like a serial killer and that even if you had to die you preferred doing it while looking at those eyes.

Ubbe apologised for the simplicity of the dinner he got you. A pair of burgers, and a paper bag full of chips that the waitress (who also battled her eyelashes way more than necessary while he ordered) had given to him for free. He explained he used to work there when he was younger, and you listened to him with widened eyes, barely paying attention to the food even if you were starving.

“My dad left home when I was a kid” he muttered, the sand was still a bit warm under you and the soft sea breeze hitting your face while you listened to his voice almost made you disassociate “I still saw him sometimes, but he spent most of his time in England, my mother had four kids to raise and one of them with a disease… She still ran the family business with the help of my half-brother, so she barely had time for us. I had to take the role of a father to my younger brothers when I was still a kid myself, so… This is going to sound selfish maybe, but I got that job to be out of that house for a few hours” he sighed “We didn’t need the money, but it felt good to stay away and make my own money, meet new people and go out…”

“I don’t think it’s selfish” you shrugged “I suppose all of us need some space, especially a teenager boy”

“Sometimes I felt bad, almost like I abandoned my brothers too” he shrugged “Hvitserk usually tagged along when I went out with friends, but Sigurd and Ivar were too young, and Ivar had his… Shit going on, too”

“It wasn’t your place to act like a father” you said softly “It wasn’t your responsibility and you still did it, that says a lot”

“I couldn’t just leave them like my father did” he sighed “They barely got to know him, at least I spent some good years with him, but they were very little when he left”

“Is this the family shit you talked about?” you said with a smile.

“No” he chuckled “Well, I do have some fights with my youngest brother, Ivar is very… Stubborn” he frowned softly “And Hvitserk used to be my partner in crime, now he’s closer to Ivar, and Sigurd… He doesn’t really care, left this place a long time ago… But no, it’s not them the ones making my days a living hell lately”

“I’m sorry” you replied with a sad smile “I hope I could help”

Ubbe turned then to smile widely at you.

“You did, you fixed my entire day, Gods, you fixed my entire month”

You giggled, shaking your head before taking another bite of your burger.

“That’s the effect of kanelboller” you smiled “I’m glad you feel better”

“It wasn’t the kanelboller” he said softly “It was you, I don’t think someone has noticed I don’t look happy in my entire life” he muttered “I was always okay, helping others, I didn’t… I wasn’t given the chance to not be okay, but you just came and gave it to me, like it was normal”

“It is normal” you reached to take his hand, hoping he wouldn’t put it away “I see every kind of people every day, some of them are very happy, others not so much, others start crying when they tell me they’ve been fired, others come very happy and leave sad, people feel things, and it’s okay to feel, it’s much better than not feeling anything”

“I guess no one paid attention to what I felt in my entire life” he shrugged, shaking his head before drinking from the beer he had bought for dinner “So thank you”

“You don’t have to thank me” you giggled “I do want something in return though” you bit your lip, glancing at an amused Ubbe, who raised an eyebrow.

“Me buying dinner wasn’t enough?” he laughed.

“Baking those kanelboller took me a long time, you know…”

He hummed, nodding slowly almost like he was thinking.

“And… What about this?” he said, and before you could react he grabbed your neck, pushing you closer to him and capturing your lips with his softly. You gasped against his mouth, surprised, but your hands went to his arms immediately, trying to keep balance without breaking what was possibly the best kiss you ever had. He tasted like the beer he was drinking, he was warm and soft, and completely matched the vibe of a sweet and nurturing man that always took care of others. You kissed him back, closing your eyes and moving closer until he grabbed your waist to pull you into his lap. The food was already forgotten as you straddled his hips and his hands travelled down your back and waist until your hips.

He only broke the kiss when the both of you couldn’t breathe. After opening your eyes and seeing his ocean blues looking right back at you you knew that would be what you saw when you died.

“Maybe I should have asked first” he whispered, his voice even more hoarse and deep.

“No, I’m…” you cleared your throat, touching your lips absentmindedly while holding back a stupid smile “I’m fine, more than fine”

“Good” he muttered before leaning in again to keep kissing you. With a sigh, you let him do, running your hands down his strong chest and shoulders, enjoying the way his arms tightened around your waist, or how his hands would wander further down and touch your thighs over your jeans. Once his hands came closer to that place between your legs and you whimpered against his lips. He kissed down your jaw and neck, even giving some small kisses over your collarbone and chest, only to bite softly on your neck, finding your sweet spot with no effort.

You could feel his member already hard against your sex, and grinded against it absentmindedly, Ubbe gasped and grabbed your hips to press you down, groaning when he made you moan softly against his ear. When you finally opened your eyes it was already completely dark around you, the moon being the only source of light around you. His eyes under the moonlight were amazing.

Without saying a word, he grabbed your waist again only to push you down onto the sand, it was already cold and it made you shiver when you laid down with your eyes still fixed on his.

“Don’t you want to watch the stars?” he chuckled, even if he didn’t take his eyes off of you either.

“Only if you’re the one making me see them” you raised an eyebrow, making him laugh again. He hid his face into your neck to laugh, and his warm breath hitting your skin made you tremble again. As soon as he raised his head you grabbed his neck to kiss him again. This time he had enough space to touch and caress every single part of your body.

__________________________________

“Well… This is me” you said with a giggle when you stopped in front of your building. Ubbe nodded slowly, the cute smile that hadn’t abandoned him all night curving his lips “Want to come in?”

A part of you was begging for him to say yes, but another part was panicking because that day you had forgotten to make the bed and you were sure there were clothes all around your bedroom.

And, you were wearing very ugly underwear.

“I would love to, but…” he sighed “It’s late, I need to work tomorrow and… Yeah, I have an appointment very early, and I don’t know if I’d be strong enough to leave your bed once I’m in” he muttered, leaning even closer before stealing another kiss. You had to hold back a very excited and unsexy giggle.

“Yeah, I… We better leave that for the weekend” you whispered, biting your lip as soon as he broke the kiss.

“I’m all yours for the weekend” he raised his hands with a chuckle.

“I’ll call you” you nodded slowly, already missing his touch “Thank you for this night, it was… Quite a welcome to Kattegat”

“It was my pleasure” he bowed his head and winked at you playfully “Good night, gorgeous”

“Good night” you said back, smiling like an idiot before turning around to open the door.

“Oh, and Y/N” he called out, making you turn around again to look at him “It was amazing to meet you”

Before you could react, he took your hand, kissing it softly before winking and walking away.

As soon as you were inside, you giggled, shrieked and laughed in pure joy, feeling those butterflies in your stomach when you remembered just how his lips felt against yours.

Opening your window to let the chill night air into your room, you looked up at the sky you had been neglecting for the entire night.

Was it you or the stars looked more bright?

____________________________________

“You look too happy today, don’t you?” your coworker raised an eyebrow. She had been looking at you the entire evening, giggling in amusement when you smiled at the customers maybe more than needed.

“Yeah, well, it’s Friday, the sun is up and it’s warm, perfect to go to the beach”

“Will you be joining someone?” she laughed “It’s the first time since you moved here that you’re actually looking forward to do something after work”

“Maybe” you winked at her “I don’t kiss and tell, who knows?”

“Oh my god you are!” she shrieked, almost groaning in impatience when you scurried off to serve a coffee to a customer “Who? Is he hot? Or she? Or they? I don’t really know your sexual preferences”

“It’s a he” you giggled “And yes he’s very hot, we’re just getting to know each other for now, though” you shrugged, trying to hold the excited smile back, still feeling like an idiot whenever you caught yourself thinking about the kiss(es) and smiling all alone.

“Finally! Is he a customer?” she widened her eyes “There’s a lot of guys that flirt with you, should I guess?”

“Yes, he is a customer” you winked at her “And I’m saying no more! If I talk too much about it and it doesn’t work out…”

Ignoring her protests, you went back to smiling widely to the customers, glancing at the clock approximately every five minutes.

Once you were out, this time having put more effort on your outfit and having brought some of your makeup to work, you immediately called him. After a few days thinking when you should call, you decided to just give him a spontaneous call when you got off of work. He did mention he was free every evening after work, so you thought it would make you look a bit more laid-off and less desperate. Not that you were desperate, but you honestly didn’t really know how long you’d survive without one of his kisses.

Ubbe didn’t pick up. Your smile faded a bit, but you soon shook your head and shrugged it off. Maybe he was busy at work, maybe he had a call… He would surely call you back as soon as he saw it, so you decided to go to the centre and relax a bit. You had been wanting to take a look at some shops you saw when you first moved there, but never had time to actually do it.

What you loved the most about Kattegat was how it seemed to blend in with the nature that surrounded it. There were trees everywhere, and all of the buildings were made of wood, imitating the style of the ancient vikings towns. It was cosy and delightful, the little lightbulbs that adorned the main streets every night from May to September gave it a warm vibe that contrasted with the chilly air.

Glancing at your phone every few minutes, you let yourself relax and enjoy your walk around the shops, frowning occasionally when you saw the prices. Everyone had said Norway was expensive, but you really felt like buying yourself something.

Entering a small shop that had big sale posters on the window, you looked around, smiling politely to the workers and immediately heading for the sale section.

Until a deep, rough voice made you freeze, turning your head with a small smile on your lips until you saw him.

Ubbe. That voice was unmistakable, but your smile faded slowly when you saw he wasn’t talking to you. Instead, he had a little girl in his arms, and carried her as he talked to another man, taller and with blonde hair. Next to them two women talked cheerfully, one of them, with blonde hair, had a little boy grabbing her hand, her other hand over her belly, where you could guess a big bump. You felt like someone just poured a cube of ice water over your head while you watched them walk to the door. Suddenly Ubbe turned to the blonde woman, tending his hand so she would give him the bag she carried, she did it, smiling softly at him and putting her hand on his arm after he caught it, turning her head around to keep talking to the other woman. It wasn’t until they left the shop that you reacted, clearing your throat and looking around to make sure no one saw how you wiped the tears that welled on your eyes before leaving too, suddenly not in the mood to go shopping.

On your way home, you couldn’t stop thinking about how much of an idiot you felt. You had been stupid, letting your stupid crush dictate your every move and thought about that man, who looked too handsome to be single. And you didn’t even think about asking him? Well, it’s not something that crosses your mind after someone kisses you like that, right?. Groaning as soon as you closed the door, taking off your shoes and letting yourself fall onto your couch, you took a deep breath before wiping your tears again. The worst part was the disappointment. Had he really taken advantage of you being new there and not knowing anyone?

Gods, he’s fucking married, you thought. And with kids! The excitement and illusion you had nurtured during those last few days came back as disappointment and sadness. Had that night been magical just for you? You groaned again, deciding to go right to bed even if it was too early.

Your phone vibrated, glancing at it you immediately tossed it onto the bed before entering the bathroom for a shower before bed, ignoring the fact that his name on your screen made your heart clench once again.

_________________________________________

You changed your shifts. Your boss looked a bit bothered but you didn’t care, you preferred to spend your days at home curled up on your couch watching the news before humiliating yourself by seeing him every day. No matter how many times you had thought to yourself it maybe wasn’t what it seemed, that maybe all of it was a misunderstanding and you had gotten things wrong. Because Ubbe didn’t look like the cheating type, right?.

But if you had learnt something about men in all of your years of life, it was that most of them weren’t as innocent and nice as they looked.

A week had passed since that night, the best night of your life you’d dare to say, and you found yourself on your couch like every other day, eating some dinner you had ordered and watching a very boring documentary film. All of this while trying to ignore the downgrade that supposed to go from making out with a very hot man on a deserted beach during sunset to watching two lions fighting hyenas on TV in just a week.

You were about to switch channels when your phone vibrated. Looking at the caller ID, you sighed and left it again. He hadn’t called very often, just a couple of times, and even if you really wanted to pick up and let him explain, you also still had enough self-esteem to know that the wisest thing to do was to ignore it.

Until your doorbell rang.

Startled, you looked at the clock. You weren’t expecting anyone, could it be one of your neighbours? Two weeks ago you had to help an older lady that lived next to you to turn the TV on because she had accidentally unplugged it while cleaning, so after thinking about it for a couple of seconds, you stood up and walked over to the door, opening it and ready to fake a smile.

But you didn’t expect to see two piercing blue eyes looking right at you. He had a shy smile on his lips.

“Ubbe?” you frowned, immediately clearing your throat and shaking your head “What…?”

“I… You didn’t answer your phone” he said, shrugging “And I didn’t see you working these days either… I just… Thought maybe something had happened, is everything okay?” his eyes narrowed, and for a moment you believed he was genuinely worried “You said you’d call and…”

“Yeah” you crossed your arms over your chest “Everything is okay, now you can…” you tried closing the door, but his arm blocked it. When you opened it again with an annoyed sigh, his smile had faded, and he looked confused now. You looked away as soon as you started thinking he looked very good.

“I don’t understand” he licked his lips “Have I done something? I…”

“Are you serious?” you scoffed.

“I’m lost, Y/N” he shot you a confused smile “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the phone, I…”

“It’s not that, it’s…” you frowned, looking at the closed doors of your neighbours, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside your flat before closing the door. Your neighbours were as adorable as they were nosy “I saw you”

“You saw me?” he frowned again, shaking his head “I’m sorry, I…”

“You’re married” you rubbed your eyes. You had promised you wouldn’t cry again “You have kids! You’re lucky I didn’t go to your wife and told her what we did on that beach last week”

“Oh” he let out a breath, smiling in relief and shaking his head “It’s that”

“That?” you scoffed “Are you serious? I’m no one’s side chick, don’t you think it’s a piece of information I should know before you kiss me?”

“Look, it has an explanation” he shook his head slowly “If you let me explain, I…”

“Go ahead” you narrowed your eyes at him as you sat down on the couch again “Explain”

“I’m divorced, Y/N” he smiled apologetically “I just divorced Torvi, that’s why I’m not wearing a ring”

He raised his hand, and you looked at his naked fingers, biting your lip in confusion.

“Torvi is my brother’s ex-wife, we started dating when they divorced, and I practically raised their kids” he shrugged and smiled shyly when you tilted your head “I know, it’s weird, it’s a long story because I was with someone else when I started dating her, which I’m not proud of” he sighed “I love Torvi, but it’s not the kind of love that maintains a marriage”

“But… You were together, with your kids and two other people, that’s not what a divorced couple usually do”

“We were with Björn and Gunhild, his actual wife” he shook his head “He’s the kids’ father, and the educator at the school said it’s good for the children to see all of us together, so we usually go out with them once a week… I do consider myself their father, but biologically I’m only Ragnar’s father, and he hasn’t been born yet” he smiled softly, looking excited “So no, I’m not married, but it’s not really a conversation for a first date, is it?”

“I… You could have mentioned it” you sighed, rubbing your eyes again “Are you sure I’m not destroying a marriage?”

Ubbe laughed for the first time since he entered your flat.

“No, my marriage didn’t have a future since way before I met you. I had a shitty day because my mother was giving me a hard time about the divorce, she is scared because she says I will never settle down, she thinks I should just hold on, no matter how unhappy my marriage is, for the kids’ sake… She believes we all should do what my father and her did, but their example was actually what made me decide to divorce” he shot you a sad smile then “So no, I’m not married nor you’re anyone’s side chick, I do have a family though, and I won’t leave them. I really like you, Y/N, but if you’re not comfortable with this or are unable of accepting this, just tell me and I will leave and won’t ever contact you again”

You groaned again, covering your face and feeling, once again, the stupidest person on Earth.

“So I just spent a week feeling like an idiot, believing you were playing me and changing my shifts at work for no reason?”

Ubbe smiled softly, reaching to put your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t really get the chance to tell you, I preferred to wait… To avoid scaring you off, maybe”

“I… God, I don’t know what to say” you giggled nervously “Sorry, I… Maybe I should have picked up the phone, let you explain before jumping to conclusions”

“Hey, it’s completely normal you reacted like this, I would probably react the same if I saw you with a random guy on the street”

“Yes but I…” you sighed again “Are you sure you’re not going home to anyone?”

“No” he muttered “In fact, I just rented a flat to where I go back all alone every night, another reason why I spend my evenings out, so no, I’m not going home to anyone”

You nodded slowly, relieved but mortified at the same time.

“And just to make sure you know I’m not lying, I did say the truth when I said I loved meeting you the other day” he added, his voice softened while he grabbed your hand “I had one of the best nights of my entire life with you, and I’d hate to have to walk away from you but I’ll respect your decision”

“I believe you” you bit your lip to hold back a smile, your heart started beating faster and faster when he leaned in, your eyes travelling from his eyes to his lips “I suppose I was scared, you made me go insane in just one night… I was afraid you were playing me, going home to someone else and flirting with me for fun, I just…”

“I understand” he nodded, a smile curving his lips again “I would love if you gave me another chance”

Finally relaxing, you took a deep breath and nodded, a mischievous smile curving your lips.

“Sure, but… Do you think it’s too late to go to the beach? I always loved bathing in the sea at night”

____________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @blushingskywalker @gruffle1 @heartbeats-wildly @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @xinyourdreamsx @tgrrose @lovessce @tootie-fruity @didiintheblog @belovedcherry @xceafh @astrape-the-weatherwitch @destynelseclipsa @nanahachikyuu @valopz @zuxiezendler @mrsalwayswrite @batmandallyboy​

I’m sorry if I messed up the tags again😭 it’s 2am please forgive me lol

Also! Sorry if the ending to this is too weak, I had to cut it a bit shorter because it was too long😅 anyway, the next one will be better❤️ thank you so much for reading!

[kcyars52]

therealvikingstrash

Jun 5

Jordan Patrick Smith in Lovecraft Country

[all-is-fair-in-love-and-war]

 🕸

[@tessastormrp, surprise me]

“We’re both gonna die…” Hvitserk muttered softly in fear as he stood behind Ubbe. He looked around cautiously as the two explored the supposedly haunted house.

Sigurd has dared Hvitserk to go into the house, and Hvitserk never being able to turn down a challenge he had agreed, although he had trapped his older brother into coming with him.

Despite the lack of logic in it, Hvitserk couldn’t help but believe in the idea of ghosts, but it still did not dissuade him of the challenge.

[jadelynlace]

i’ve been blowing up your page with requests, i apologize if it’s too much! just ignore if you don’t want to answer, but i would love to see some baby shower hc’s? mainly with just the family and floki, what the gifts are, who got them, the whole 9 yards if you’re willing!

This took some thought because I never really thought of the baby shower in too much detail. At least not as much as I did for the gender reveal. And it got long.

I have thought about the first birthday party and gifts—because you know Ivar plans this thing like it’s your wedding. And as much as you love this man, you’re slightly peeved because you can’t believe it’s been a whole year since you welcomed your baby. But I digress, a post for another time. 

For the baby shower, I do think it’s small. Close family and friends. But, Ivar has a decent size clientele, who all know how much this man wants to be a father, so there’s no shortage of things sent to the house. The fire department gets funny—sending the raunchiest baby onesies they can find (slightly tipped off by your husband), and Ivar really looks forward to getting the mail each day. Your chief takes a step back and delivers a present for you and Ivar himself, and for some reason to be given a sketch book by a man who is basically in the same relationship as what Floki is to him—it just makes Ivar tear up a bit and feel very seen and appreciated. He’s more excited than he thought he’d be to put the plastic firefighter hat on his baby.

We already know Ragnar writes a check. In a card that’s bought and just signed. Ivar has to set it down and walk outside so he doesn’t have a full on meltdown, and you find him sitting by the garden and you come and sit on his lap.

“He’s never going to understand,” Ivar says softly.

“Then don’t let him,” You say back, purposely moving Ivar’s hands to rest on your bump. “His loss, not yours,” And that makes Ivar sigh slightly.

Ivar deposits the check and plans to use it on the first vacation he can take as a family of three. Where he fully intends to come back as a soon to be family of four. He keeps that a secret, though.

Aslaug gets clothes. Oh, every day she asks Ivar what he thinks about “this outfit”. Especially if this baby is the first Lothbrok baby girl. They’re set until the baby starts school with how many clothes Aslaug gets.

Now, one thing about Thora is that she’s really into interior design. It’s her saving grace as a nurse and working the long hours she does. Hvitserk likes to watch the cooking channels, Thora likes the design ones. It’s a constant battle. And after you and Ivar pick out the furniture you both want—and after Floki builds something to match a piece (more on that shortly)—Thora starts shopping for things to pull the whole room together. And anything organizational; having things neatly set up makes Ivar pitch a tent.

Hvitserk’s present is food. Hear me out: he makes a month worth of things to freeze, and reheat for the first weeks you’re home with the baby. Ivar does take his time to make things he knows you’re going to want to eat—both to replenish and to help you feel better during the fourth trimester. And he does a crazy amount of research (shocking, I know) on foods that help with milk production. This is also his excuse to make an ungodly amount of oatmeal cookies. And on top of food, Hvitserk gets a whole bunch of canning jars so you can make baby food when they’re older. And by that, he means he can make baby food when they’re older.

Ubbe has three children of his own. He planned to give hand-me-downs until Torvi threatened him. His initial plan then was to get a few toys that sing, make music, the whole nine yards. But that’s basically writing his own death certificate, so he lets Torvi take full control of this. And he’s glad he did because she makes a sweet little gift basket, full of postpartum stuff for you and the baby. Ubbe feels very proud to have just signed his name on the fucking card.

Sigurd may be a dick 99% of the time, but he knows how much Ivar’s wanted this. And, he couldn’t find it in himself to be a jerk. So, he sets his sights on things the baby will be able to use when they’re a bit older, and gets a lot of separate craft supplies for Ivar and his kiddo to use. Along with things Ivar can use to make art surrounding the baby; like for the footprints to turn into keepsakes. It’s likely one of the most thoughtful gifts Sigurd has gotten him, and tells him to not get used to it.

Floki, as you read, hand builds a crib. And he doesn’t tell Ivar he’s putting it together until after they have furniture delivered. And there’s no crib to be found. Not on the receipt, or on the charge to his card. Ivar lets that slip in a conversation and Floki goes “Give it a week” (since the baby shower is in two days) and then adds: “Sometimes things get lost and show up a few days later.” Ivar reluctantly believes him and is glad he did. But still has no clue how Floki fucked with the order. This starts the chapter of Floki building things for Ivar’s children. 

Helga (and she’s the only one who gets away with this), does gift two shirts that both Phoenix and Apollo wore as babies. And she asks Ivar if he recognizes them (since Ivar is their God Father and was the regular babysitter), and Ivar has to take a moment after he goes “Stoooooop” because it’s a trip down memory lane and now he gets to carry that on with his baby.

Phoenix and Apollo both make crafts that Ivar proudly hangs in the nursery.

Bjorn also writes a check. But he actually has the decency to show up with it at the shower. He was invited, and Ivar didn’t really think he’d show up. Not only did he show up, he brought his two boys (who everyone has only barely seen through photos) and their mother. He claimed they’re trying to “work things out”. The other four brothers secretly started a bet to see how long that would last. Bjorn oldest boy who is just shy of thirteen, reminds you of Ivar. He’s sweet and gentle and doesn’t care to play with the other kids. He asks you a lot of questions about the baby, and how the baby feels. And then asks you a lot of questions about your job. Ever so shyly he asks if the baby kicks, and you let him feel it on your abdomen and the little man smiles so widely. And then he asks his Uncle Ivar if he can show him some of his drawings. And you know right then and there that this kid is walking the same path Ivar did as a child. Ivar sends him home with one of his blank sketchbooks and a very strong message of “Don’t let anyone take that hobby away from you.”

Aiden. Oh, Aiden. Aiden and his scared-of-commitment-and-even-more-scared-of-babies-because-they’re-fragile-like-glass. He knows Ivar is just over the moon for this, and he’s pretty capable of getting hyped up too. I think Aiden’s best offer is moral support; not in the means of child care but more like “I’ll grocery shop for you” kind-of way. He’s put in charge of Ink Drinker while Ivar’s on paternity leave, and that peace of mind is more than enough for Ivar (who is kind of a control freak now that he owns the business). Aiden does buy a few things off of the registry; and starts to bring both you and Ivar coffee on his way to the shop. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he lives on the same street as a coffee shop, and you two live on the same block as Ink Drinker. And he can walk. It also has nothing to with the fact that he likes to see how Ivar looks post-baby. With sideburns and tired (but happy) eyes, and a dad bod. Especially the dad bod. Bonus points if Ivar answers the door shirtless. Aiden’s crush on that man will never wither.  

God, now I’m back on my Dad!Ivar shit. 

[maidmerrymint]

Lol I don't know why but I'm really into like the idea of a Modern Vikings MC Club fanfiction.

[bjornswoman]

Vikings Masterlist

Bjorn Ironside

Mine

Afraid of losing you

Heart's healer

His night

Precious

Arrows

Blue piercing eyes

I love you

Zinnia

False promises

Ubbe

His dark side

Jealous

Secret

Just listen

His bride

Sick girl

Little girl

My enemy and me*

Hvitserk

Goddess

One of his women

Betrayed

Best friends

Crazy and mad

Lies* (remake) / Lies*

Fake wedding

Worth it

My prisoner

Ivar the Boneless

Mad about you

Last night, Back to you

Break

Feelings

Crimes of love

Games and conflicts

Jealous girl

Right person wrong time

Photograph

Toxic I, II

Destruction*

Harald Finehair

Promise

Allies

Live for me

Free with you

Shieldmaiden's secret

[paracosmoon]

king harald finehair would've risked it all for megan thee stallion

[therealvikingstrash]

A Loðbrók Magazine AU for your special day @ritual-unions 💕

[istorkyou]

A Thousand Battles (Modern!Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings - Language. Hospital setting. Description of medical procedures (non gory!)

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

Word Count - 4534

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

Shout Outs - A massive shout out to @blackseapearl and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for beta reading, ironing out all the mistakes and the motivation to keep going with it. Special hugs to @blackseapearl for talking through the ending with me and giving me some much needed inspiration and the wonderful moodboard.

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

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

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

Chapter 1

She shields her eyes from the sun, much too bright without her sunglasses. She is standing on a white sand beach, the crystal clear waters lapping the shore. She steps into the water until it laps against her knees and then looks down. Hundreds of fish swim around her legs, the brightest hues she’s ever seen, almost luminous as the sun reflects off their scales. A giant tortoise swims past her legs and she reaches down to touch its cold, bumpy shell as it passes by.

Something occurs to her: the water is neither hot nor cold, it is the exact temperature of her skin and she can barely feel it. She looks up and down the beach and it stretches as far as the eye can see although there is not another soul in sight. Listening closely, she realises she doesn’t hear the normal sounds you would expect on the beach: the sound of the waves crashing, the sounds of the gulls squawking. All she hears is a very faint beep, and she has to strain her ears to even catch that. 

She starts to panic, her breath becomes shallow and a rush of cold covers her skin as if she's been dropped into an ice bath. Where is she? Something is wrong. This place is unnerving. She can hear the beeping getting louder as the waves get larger in the silent ocean. She stumbles backwards into the soft sand, neither cold nor hot.

She feels something brush against her hand and jerks away quickly looking over her shoulder to see what touched her. A man stands behind her, a stranger, yet the look on his face suggests he knows her. She tries to step away but he reaches for her hand again. 

“Liet. Wake up, please. Wake up,” he is pleading with her, face carved with anguish. “You have to come back to me, Liet.”

She focuses on a necklace around his neck, a thick silver chain with a flat circle pendant hanging from it. 

“Liet?” 

She shakes her head and looks around the beach again which is now filled with people and the noise you would expect at a busy beach fills her ears. The sounds of talking, shouting, and beeping are becoming unbearable. The panic that started earlier has turned into fear, she can feel her face and chest flush and the urge to scream is overwhelming and as she looks back at the man, his eyes have turned the bluest of blue, bleeding into the whites and his face has changed. His face is tipped down but he is staring up at her with brows pulled close and a menacing smile on his face. 

“They know, Liet. They all know,” his voice doesn’t match his face, it’s high and almost friendly, which only makes it even more sinister and scary. “We all know, Liet.” He lunges for her, hands grabbing for her neck and as she screams and scrambles to get away she trips backwards and everything goes black.

Everything is dark.

Everything hurts.

The beeping is so, so loud. 

She is lying somewhere. Where is she? She can feel warmth in her left hand. Her body feels broken. Breathing hurts, every breath takes effort, as if there is an invisible weight pressing down on her, restricting her lungs. Her head feels too big. The warmth in her hand is strange and she tries to move it away but all she manages is a twitch and the feeling of warmth leaves her skin. 

“Julietta?” asks a voice in the room. The feeling of warmth is back on her hand and now it has a force, gripping her tightly. 

She opens one eye. She isn’t sure why the other won’t open yet. She can make out shadows in the room. But the overwhelming pain she is feeling at the light streaming in from the window forces her eye closed immediately.

“Did she just open her left eye? Did she? Get the doctor. Now!” 

The hand is still squeezing, gentler now. 

“Julietta, open your eyes.” She can hear excitement in the male voice.

She starts to try again but the light is too much. 

“Shut the blinds, it’s too bright for her. Quickly, Godsdammit!” The same voice commands then softens again. “Try again, my love.Try again.”

She opens it slowly and it’s much better now it’s darker. It gives her pupil time to adjust slowly and the shadows turn into people. She tries to move her head but she has something around her neck stopping her so she focuses on what she can see in the left side of the room. A window, three chairs lined up along the wall, two occupied. A chair next to the bed is occupied as well. She manages to focus on the person closest to her. A man holding her hand tightly in both of his, great concern all over his face. He looks familiar, but only vaguely. She doesn’t know why he’s now crying as he watches her open eye. 

“Julietta!” The relief in his voice is palpable and he drops his head down to kiss her hand over and over again. “Thank all the Gods. My love!”

There is a flurry of movement and the man at her bedside is ushered away to the other seats where he is greeted with embraces from two other men. 

The doctor and nurses go about the observations before she closes her eye again. 

—-----------------------

“What is happening?! Why is she not awake anymore?”

“Mr. Lothbrok, her vitals look stable. Please don’t worry, she’s not in a coma any longer, but she will need a significant amount of rest. You should go home, we will call you when she wakes up again.”

“I’m not going anywhere! What a ridiculous suggestion,” Ivar yells dismissively.

“Ivar, she will be asleep for hours yet. Let me at least take you home so you can shower and eat. You haven’t left this room in eight days.” 

“Hvitserk, I will leave this room when she’s well enough to leave it with me.”

“Okay, Brother,” Hvitserk's voice is full of concern. “I’ll bring you anything you need.”

Ivar walks to the side of her bed again and takes up the spot he has been rooted to for over a week. He looks over her face, right eye still swollen shut, right arm in a cast for the breaks and the skin that is visible is still an angry purple in places, in others the purple is fading around the edges to a muddy green and he imagines the rest of the skin he can’t see is in a similar state. Her skin has been sewn back together around her shoulder, by the best plastic surgeon in the country, but there will always be a physical reminder of what happened to her. 

His beautiful Liet.

Ivar’s jaw clenches in anger. He knows she has a long way to go before she is healed fully, but now she is out of immediate danger and his thoughts at once turn to revenge and retribution. The people responsible will pay with their lives. 

As he is allowing the volcano of rage to bubble inside of his chest, threatening to spill out into the world at any second, he catches her eye, open again and she studies him. He leans into her, all rage extinguished for now. 

“My love, you’re awake.” He holds her hand and runs his own hand up her arm slowly, taking care not to hurt her. 

“...am I?” she asks. Her throat must be so dry as her voice doesn’t sound like her own, scratchy and croaky and underused. Probably raw from intubation. 

Ivar smiles at her, the relief at hearing her voice is overwhelming and his tears fall onto her hand as he bends down to kiss it again. 

“Hospital. There was an… accident. You’re okay though. Broken bones and a bad head injury but you'll be okay, my love. I promise.” He smiles and lets out a relieved laugh and kisses her hand and arm.

Julietta watches him as he peppers her skin with love. “Who are you?” she asks quietly. 

His face contorts into confusion, brows pulled close together, before he laughs lightly. 

“Very funny, love. I’m the King of England and you are my Queen!” He laughs again until he looks at her face, and even through the bruising, the swelling, the cuts, he can see she isn’t joking. The left eye that is open is scared, her pupil is dilated in fear. He watches her chest as it is rising quicker than before and the steady beeping starts to quicken. “Julietta. It’s me, Ivar. It’s ok. Don’t worry, it’s just me.” He grabs her hand quickly and she jerks away. 

There are waves of fear rolling off of her, now. He can see it, he can feel it. Ivar stands up slowly and walks to the door, his demeanour is different to how he interacts with her. Nothing soft, just a menacing aura that has the nurse's shoulders rise in fear when they see him, all avoiding eye contact and keeping the widest berth possible.

“Doctor. Immediately. She doesn’t know who I am.”

The doctor is in the room within a couple of minutes, shining a light into her eye. “Do you know your name? What year is it?”

She looks at the stranger in the room who called himself Ivar. 

“Julietta Manresa. I.. I’m not sure.”

“Lothbrok, love. Julietta Lothbrok. We’ve been married for six months,” Ivar interjects before the doctor turns to him and gives him a look of reproach and a tiny shake of his head.

“Well done, Julietta. Tell me what’s wrong.”

—------------------------

She swallows thickly and winces at the feeling. The man called Ivar hands a drink with a straw to the doctor who lets her take a sip.

“I don’t know him. Or anything about me apart from my name. I don’t know my parents' names. I don’t know why I’m here, what happened to me.” She starts to breathe deeper, too deep. 

“Julietta, I know this is confusing but please try to keep calm. I can assure you this is a fairly common side effect for the type of head trauma you have suffered. It’s called Post Traumatic Amnesia.”

How can she calm down? She’s woken up in a hospital bed surrounded by strangers. One claiming to be her husband. She starts to feel light headed and nauseous. She tried to move but it’s almost impossible with the thing on her neck, her arm in a cast, leg in a splint. 

“I don’t know you. You aren’t my husband. I’ve never seen you before,” her voice is rising to as much of a shout as her sore vocal chords will allow. 

The doctor leaves the room quickly.

Ivar steps to the bed and sits down. He doesn’t reach for her hand. “I promise you. You are my wife. Don’t worry about that now, it will come back to you. I love you so much.”

The doctor comes back into the room and starts to inject something into the IV port in her hand. 

“What the fuck is that? Tell me before you give her anything. I’ve told you time and time again,” Ivar’s voice is different again. Low, calm, as intimidating as anything she has ever heard. 

“Mr. Lothbrok, she needs rest. I’ve administered a sedative. She has significant brain swelling. This will help her rest and heal.”

She starts to feel woozy, the IV site has gone cold as whatever the doctor administers travels up her vein. “I’m scared,” she whispers as her eyes focus on a silver chain and pendant around Ivar’s neck; it somehow feels like home. She tried to reach for it but the drugs are making her limbs heavier by the second. 

Ivar takes her hand and brings it up to his mouth to kiss again. “I am here. I will be here when you wake up. Don’t be frightened, we will get through this. My beautiful Liet.”

Julietta hears the last part, the nickname he uses and it permeates a part of her consciousness, seeps into her synapses, making them fire, she’s heard it before. There’s a faint recognition there. She urges her brain to make the connections she desperately needs to piece together her life, but she slips under sedation before anything tangible forms in her brain. 

—————————

As her eyes flutter shut, Ivar's face hardens. “Don’t ever give my wife drugs I have not approved. I want to know everything she is given. I will break your legs if you disobey me again. Am I being understood?” 

—————————

The doctor looks into the eyes of Ivar, blue as the arctic ocean and twice as cold. He knows who Ivar Lothbrok is, what he does, who his family are. His reputation more than precedes him. He is someone not to cross, and even though the doctor has a duty of care primarily to his patients, and in this situation he would usually tell the family member to jump, he isn’t a fool. 

“Of course. If you are not here and there is an emergency how should I proceed?” 

“I am not leaving her side. So that will not be a problem,” Ivar advises him. “Don’t be facetious with me. I know you were asking my brother about the guards outside her room. They are staying until she leaves.” Ivar slowly walks towards the doctor who backs up, almost tripping backwards over the IV stand. “Do not question my actions again. My patience has all but disappeared due to this whole situation and I am not known to be a patient man at the best of times. I want to know when you are off shift so I can tell the other doctors the same as I have told you.” The doctor nods quickly.

He turns away and walks back to take up his spot next to his wife. “How long will she be asleep?” 

The doctor clears his throat. “At least twelve hours,” he says with a shake in his voice, nerves clear. 

Ivar doesn’t take his eyes off her face. “Thank you for saving her life.” 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Julietta swings from consciousness to dreams for weeks, the fabric of reality stretched thin in her head, so much so that most of the time she isn’t sure if she is awake or asleep. What she does know is that when she is present in the hospital room, real or in her head, Ivar is there, at her side, talking to her gently, telling her stories she can’t recall.

Oftentimes she is back on the beach. This she knows is not her consciousness. It’s bathed in moonlight now, a blue and silver light reflecting off of the silent, black ocean. She doesn’t enter the water this time, too apprehensive in the dark. She looks up and down again and sees only a tiny beach hut illuminated by a soft yellow glow. She walks to it and can’t hear muffled talking. Heated talking. She doesn’t knock on the door, she pushes it open to find Ivar standing in front of a man she’s never seen before. The stranger has black hair shaved close to his scalp, deep olive skin and black stubble over his handsome face. He has a scar running through his right eyebrow. They stop talking and both look at her silently. 

She sees love on both their faces. 

The stranger stands up, taking a step past Ivar towards her. “Etta, where are you? I miss you.” He asks in Russian.

Ivar moves between them giving the stranger a look of displeasure. His face softens when he looks back to her. “Liet, who is this?” He cups her face and kisses her softly. “Who is he, love?” 

She shakes her head in confusion, looking past Ivar to the stranger who has recoiled at the scene in front of him. “I…I don’t know, Ivar. I don’t know who he is.”

A laugh of disbelief leaves the stranger. “Etta? It’s me.”

“I don’t know who you are,” she replies.

“Let’s go, Liet,” Ivar weaves his arm over her shoulder and looks back over his to the man. “You are not important.”

As she allows Ivar to lead her out of the hut and back out into the night, everything goes black again. The damn beeping has returned too, she notices.

Beep.

Beep.

Her eyes open. Both this time. She feels less sore than the last time she woke up from the beach. She is able to move her neck now and can see to the right for the first time. A bed is next to her, pushed up so close they are touching and Ivar is asleep next to her on it. Her head feels like a normal size now and she shifts her head on the pillow to stare at him. His hand is on her arm, his short hair is shaved in the sides but it needs cutting, making her wonder how long she’s been in the hospital, with him by her side. He has stubble over his face and she can see the thick purple lines under his eyes, he looks exhausted. 

She studies him for a long time, trying to remember anything she can, but nothing comes. Nothing at all. The only memories of him are from when she came out of the coma. She tries to recall other aspects of her life. Friends, family, the name of her schools, any pets she’s had, what food she likes. 

Nothing. 

It’s like shouting into a bottomless chasm: nothing but the echo of the questions asked coming back to her. Like trying to enter an impenetrable castle, banging on the door and being ignored. 

Nothing.

Who am I? I have not one memory of my life. Not one. Am I even real? If I don't have any memories, do I even really exist? Have I ever existed? Am I dead? Is this purgatory?

She starts to panic again and she turns to the only person in the world who has been here for her for this whole ordeal. 

“Ivar... Ivar,” she whispers quietly. She needs something, she needs comfort and she only has one source of that it seems. This stranger who says he is her husband. “Ivar.” She repeats and his eyes fly open.

“Julietta! You’re awake. Do you remember me? Let me fetch the doctor.”

Her panic rises, the thought of being left completely alone in the world terrifies her so she grips his arm tightly. “NO! Don’t leave me. Please. I don’t remember you, I'm sorry.” She starts to cry. “Ivar, am I dead?”

Ivar’s face crumples at her words and he slides close to her, as close as he can without disturbing the tangle of wires attached to her. As he slides his arm over her waist he kisses her on the cheek and wipes her falling tears, then does the same to his own. 

“You're not dead, my love. You are very much alive, you are the strongest woman I’ve ever met. A fighter, my best shield maiden. Odin’s own Valkyrie. We will get through this together.” 

His presence calms her fears, makes her breaths come easier, slows her racing heart. 

“Who am I?”

Ivar sniffs and rubs his nose on his sleeve. “I think we should talk to the doctor first before I start telling you things. I don’t want to overwhelm you. Just know that you are Julietta Lothbrok, we have been married for six months now and we’ve been together for three years. Look,” he reaches for a framed photo on the cabinet next to his bed, “this is one of our wedding photos,” he says, holding it in front of her face. 

It is them, on their wedding day. She is in a beautifully elegant, lace dress with gold detailing and he is in a navy suit. They are holding hands and looking at each other with massive smiles on their faces. 

“See, baby. It’s us,” Ivar says, so proudly. 

Julietta notices Ivar is holding a walking stick and he has something wrapped around each leg. She reaches her left hand up to touch the picture, running her finger over his legs. “You had an accident as well?” She glanced down at his legs, no braces now. 

He laughs lightly at her. “No accident, love. Bone disease. My braces are over there.” He gestures to the side of the bed. 

“We looked happy.” She glances at him shyly, catching his eyes and noticing how blue they are. 

“We are happy,” he replies with a wide smile. “I’m going to get the doctor, okay? I will be right back, I promise.” 

———————-

More time passes in the hospital. She isn’t sure how much time, she just knows she is healing more and more, but only physically. Her memory is still non-existent. She has asked Ivar many questions over her time here, questions about herself and her accident but he is always vague or evades the questions completely, saying it’s doctors orders not to overload her with information in her unstable condition. 

He still hasn’t left her side. He gets food delivered to the room, by an app on his phone or by one of his four brothers, mainly one called Hvitserk who, despite being told by Ivar not to, only refers to her as “sister” and insists on hugging her every time he comes into her room. She is getting used to it now, even though at first she didn’t like it one bit; it felt overly familiar and intrusive. 

Another brother, Ubbe, brings work for Ivar to sign. He often comes into the hospital room, gives her a quick smile and whisks Ivar into the hall where they have heated yet hushed discussions. She watches Ivar intently during these discussions, his face is always angry, aggressive and his body language mirrors this. 

After one such visit from Ubbe, Ivar returns to the room more agitated than usual. 

“Ivar. What do you do for work? You seem… different when you are speaking with others,” she questions tentatively.

His head whips to her so fast that it makes her jump, his expression one that she’s never seen directed at her before. She shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. His face softens. “Julietta , I don’t think that is a topic we should discuss first. How about something less complicated? About you?”

Julietta nods quickly. “How long have I been here?”

“We are in the fifth week now. You were in a coma for over a week and spent another few in and out of sedation until the swelling on your brain went down. There has been talk that I will be able to take you home soon,” he says with a hope filled voice.

She gives him a small smile. “Don’t I have parents? No one has visited me.” She is dreading the answer but deep down, a part of her already knows. 

Ivar tips his head to the side slightly and grimaces almost imperceptibly, but she catches it. “My love, your parents died ten years ago in a car crash. I’m so sorry to have to tell you that.” He walks to the bed and she shifts over, allowing him room to lay next to her, both on their sides facing each other. They have been doing this over the last few days. She can see how much being close to her means to him, a physical need he has, and by the way it calms her own body, she figures she needs physical comfort as well. 

“I think some part of me knew that,” she tells him with a little shrug. “We don’t have children?” 

“No, love.”

“What happened to me, Ivar? Please tell me. I can handle it.”

He stares at her for a while and takes a massive breath in, closing his eyes. “You were hit by a car. It swerved onto the pavement and hit you when you were leaving the gym. It was a hit and run. We have…we have yet to find out who did it.”

That information shocks her to her core. She assumed she’d been in a car accident, but not a hit and run. “It wasn’t an accident? Someone meant to run me over?” The shock of the information sends a bolt of dread through her, her eyes start to sting and her nose starts to fizz. “Why?”

The pain on Ivar’s face is clear, pain at having to break the news to her, pain at having to relive the memory, there is guilt in his expression, she recognises that. 

“I think that’s enough information for now. Little by little, okay, baby? The important thing is you are alive, and what is gone will return. Go to sleep, you need to rest.”

He’s right, that’s a lot of information to digest all at once, she needs time for it to sink in and sort through the feelings involved, so she nods at him.

“We will talk more tomorrow. I’m looking forward to telling you about your unhealthy love of Chinese food!”

Julietta sniffs at this information, “I’ve been thinking about noodles a lot this week. That would explain it.”

“Silly thing, why didn’t you tell me? I will get some, do you want some now? What else do you want? Actually, don’t think, I will just get your favourite.” He leans in to kiss her and she pulls back. “Sorry,” he tells her with a look of deepest disappointment, “force of habit.”

She feels embarrassed. She should have let him kiss her, he’s her husband after all. “Don’t be sorry.” She moves her face to his and gives him a soft, chaste kiss on the lips. When she pulls away his face is so happy it makes her smile and kiss him again. Her stomach does a tiny flip when she kisses him. “Thank you for not leaving me alone, Ivar.”

“I’ll never leave you.”

Chapter 2

[heavenlymorals]

Bumps at Night

Summary: Hearing many strange noises at night and noticing many strange occurrences, the sons of Aslaug come to the conclusion that it was Ivar being a menace to society.

This is the first time that I've ever written a modern AU for Vikings, so personally? I believe it could be better but I had fun sooooo who cares lol

@bragisrunes Thank you so much for letting me borrow your concept/idea for this❤ I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it 😌

-------------------------------------------------------

It was not unusual to hear noises at night. They were not necessarily loud , but more annoying than anything. Usually, it was just little clangs of dirty cutlery falling down that all of Aslaug’s sons were too lazy to wash or little knocks on walls that were definitely not from the door. Sometimes it was the loud creaking of stairs, and other times it was a door slamming just a bit too loud. Again, not loud enough to really startle, but loud enough to irritate whoever wanted to get a decent night of sleep and who wasn’t asleep already. 

One night, Ubbe, needing to wake up to take a late night piss, heard one of those noises. It was a loud creaking followed by a more tame version of someone slamming a door shut. Ubbe, still somewhat groggy from waking up at two…maybe three in the morning (he glanced fleetingly at his alarm clock, so he wasn’t sure exactly what time it was), felt his shoulders shudder as the noise infiltrated his ears. 

Startled, he finished his business quickly, closed the bathroom door quietly, and then looked around only to see Ivar propping himself up to grasp his door handle to get inside his room. Usually, Ivar had no problem opening the knob when he was crawling and without his crutches, but he seemed absolutely beat right now. His movements were lethargic and he missed the handle a couple of times. 

What he was doing up at such a late hour, Ubbe had no clue, especially if he seemed so sleepy to the point where he was struggling with opening a door. Being the self-claimed guardian he was (Not a role he necessarily wanted to have, but ever since Ragnar got hooked on narcotics and Aslaug became obsessive over her fine wine, he had to step in to become a mother and father figure to his younger siblings. His parents got better, with both Ragnar and Aslaug going to rehab and such, but Ubbe was never able to shake off his parental streak when it came to his brothers.), he walked over to Ivar and opened the door for him. He heard a faint ‘thank you’ that was mostly blanketed by Ubbe’s sleepiness, and Ivar slipped into his room. 

When Ubbe returned back to bed, taking approximately five seconds to find a comfortable position to sleep out the rest of the night, he realized that he forgot to ask Ivar what the hell that noise was all about. 

He also realized that he did not care and closed his eyes to finish off where he left. As soon as he was about to doze off, he heard that exact same noise. A part of him, the responsible part of him, the part of him that he built up during the many times he was the sole caretaker of his brothers wanted to get out of bed again, go to Ivar’s room, and see why the fuck he was slamming the doors so loud. It had to be him. He was the only one other than Ubbe who was awake, as Ubbe checked on Hvitserk and Sigurd as he went back to his room to see if they had anything to do with the strange noises and they were knocked out cold. 

That responsible part of him was choked out by his need to tune everything out and go to sleep. Besides, his legs felt too numb to get up.

Yeah, that was most definitely an excuse. He just wanted to sleep and the bed was just too damned comfortable to get out of. 

Thankfully, Ubbe assumed that Ivar decided to behave and not be the absolute diabolical little piece of shit that he was no doubt born to be because he could no longer recall any strange noises that disturbed his peaceful slumber.

.

.

.

“Ubbe!” Sigurd called out as he rummaged through his room to find his favorite guitar plectrum. It was made of zebrawood and sometimes when it hit the light just right, it would remind Sigurd of a tiger stone gem. He had one of those stones on his dresser and made the error of mistaking it for his guitar pick two times already while he was searching for it. 

“What do you want, Sigurd?” Ubbe called out from downstairs, his voice echoing through the halls. Sigurd started to open and slam drawers shut to find his beloved pick. Of course, he could just use one of his plastic ones, but that pick was special to him. Mostly because it was the prettiest and cost the most. 

“Have you seen my guitar pick?”

“Your what?”

“Guitar pick! The thing that I use to sometimes play my guitar with! It’s wooden, has stripes, and is shaped kind of like a teardrop,” Sigurd explained while he strode over to his bed and frantically tore away the unnaturally soft duvet from his bed. Maybe, while he was playing on his bed, he dropped the thing in the ocean of blankets and covers that adorned his lovely nest. He became even more frantic when the only thing that appeared to be hidden in the caverns of the fabric was an unassuming black hair tie. Most reasonably, he became even more irritated and just yanked everything covering the bed to the ground. He shook them all to find that stupid pick and his search, once again, was rendered positively fruitless. 

Ubbe’s voice rang up once more to reply to Sigurd’s description. Oh father, thou art in heaven, please let it be that Ubbe knew where it was. “Oh, that thing! How should I know? You play the guitar, Sigurd, not me. If I were to guess, I’d assume it would be in your room.”

Oh, father, thou art in heaven, go kiss my ass, Sigurd thought as he groaned, rubbing his fingers along his face, pulling the skin downwards to create a very dramatized expression of anguish that no one else could see. 

“Gee, thanks Sherlock, no shit, I assumed it would be in my room too!” Sigurd snapped back. It was unfair to be a dick to Ubbe of all people over a guitar pick of all things, one that he could replace or just ignore and play with one of his other picks, but goddamn it, he wanted that specific pick to be safe in his hand. 

There was no answer, but he did hear the sounds of footsteps making their way to his room. The door opened to reveal a very shocked-looking Ubbe. 

Sigurd stopped his rummage from hell and took a couple of mental steps back to realize that it looked like an unforgiving hurricane swept through his humble abode. It was sort of impressive if it weren’t for the fact that Ubbe was most definitely going to metaphorically grab him by the scruff of his neck to clean the room.

“I was going to offer to help you, but on second thought, nevermind,” Ubbe remarked unhelpfully before turning back around to go downstairs. “Clean your room when you’re done. You’ve been raised better than to behave like an animal,” Ubbe tutted, using the same tone that Aslaug would use when she was disappointed by her children. 

Sigurd grimaced a bit but then ultimately nodded. Fair enough. Before Ubbe went though, he instilled one last piece of sage knowledge on his second youngest brother. 

“Maybe go check Hvitserk and Ivar’s rooms? It might be in there.” 

At first, Sigurd wanted to complain that there was no way that the pick was in either one of those rooms because he would never play in those rooms. He had no reason to. But then he realized that he might as well give it a shot. 

He went to Ivar’s room first. Ivar was not in the house because his impossible little brother was on a date with someone. Sigurd paid little attention to his younger brother’s intimate life, but what he did know about his date was that the person in question was a man older than Ivar with a weird name and that he probably held very dubious morals or low standards because why else would someone want to date the absolute goblin that was Ivar? Sure, Sigurd says this, but he had no problem breaking every single bone in that man’s body should he break his little brother’s heart. 

Either way, when Sigurd brought one foot into the room, he stepped on something hard and flat. As he pulled away his foot, he was ecstatic to find his beloved pick. He quickly checked it to make sure it was not damaged and once he recovered from his joy of finding the little thing after he looked for it for the last half-hour, he became very prissy. Fucking Ivar, of course, he’d do some shit like that to piss him off. 

Ivar came back home twenty minutes later, at around nine twenty-five PM or some such and he looked positively blissful. The date must have gone well.

And Sigurd, being his rather petty self, decided to ruin Ivar’s good mood by not letting him go off free from just stealing his pick like that. Ivar decided to play dumb, his lips parted slightly in what Sigurd could only describe as faux confusion. They went on for a while until Ubbe had to separate them and force them to behave.

The next day, it happened again and Sigurd made it his life mission to irritate Ivar as much as possible on the topic of the pick. Ivar, still playing dumb, was forced by Ubbe to apologize and not take the pick again. Ivar refused to, saying that he had dignity and would never enter into such a hell as Sigurd’s bedroom. 

It went on for a while, then it spiraled into shrill screaming and then ended with Ubbe sending both of them to their rooms like a tired single dad of three kids, much to the chagrin of Hvitserk, who was fighting for his life to hold down his guffaws.

.

.

.

Hvitserk, a few years ago, was a drug addict. A junkie, to put it simply, even though he knew that his brothers hated it when he used that word to describe himself. The word 'junkie' became to his brothers what 'Voldemort' was to the wizards in Harry Potter. You simply did not say it. 

It was a struggle getting off drugs. A heinous struggle that left him at times confused, lost, depressed, angry, and both determined and weak-willed. To put it simply, he experienced a whole pallet of emotions while he embarked on that treacherous journey to rid himself of the demon that took its forms in unassuming white powder or clear liquid in sinister syringes. 

But while he was on drugs, he remembered sometimes hearing strange things. Little things that may or may not have been there while he was getting off a rollercoaster high. Well, he’d call them little things now, but back then, he’d swear he was hearing demons straight from hell, clawing at the barrier that keeps them trapped in their kingdom of the inferno to get out and devour him alive. 

He was positive that he wasn’t hearing the fictitious brain allusions of the wails of the damned this time, as he, very proudly, was two and a half years sober, but he was still hearing strange little things.

The clattering of something hard on the wooden floor, strange scratching sounds on the walls, the slamming of doors, and more stuff like that. One time, when Hvitserk was venturing downstairs for some late-night munchies, he heard a loud thud of something being slammed against the wood. He felt his heart almost leap out of his chest and he breathed in deeply when the little surge of adrenaline faded away from his body. 

When he turned around to investigate the noise, he found his legs taking him to the main hall and on a sleek mahogany table that rested agains the wall, he saw that one picture was on its face. He brought his hand to turn the picture upright again and cringed slightly when he saw little imprints on the wood from how hard the picture must have fallen, no slammed to create such markings. 

The picture was one of all of Ragnar’s sons. It was the last picture they had of Bjorn before he more or less cut them out of his life after the death of his mother. 

Hvitserk then heard the sound of creaking wood and saw legs dragging before disappearing behind a wall. 

The noise must have been Ivar then. They all know how much Bjorn hurt all of them before he left.

So when Hvitserk resumed his journey of making it to the fridge, he saw Ivar sitting in front of an open pantry and munching on something or the other. He did not acknowledge Hvitserk when he walked in, and as soon as he was done, he just started crawling back to his room. 

It was a strange little scenario, but he knew better than to ask Ivar about the picture. It would lead to absolutely nothing. 

.

.

.

After a bit, everyone just assumed that the strange things that happened was just Ivar being the creepy little bastard he was. The slamming doors, the scratching sounds on the walls, and the occasional object either dropping on the ground or found in an entirely different place than where it should be. 

Slam! It was Ivar.

Thud! It was Ivar. 

Scratch! It was Ivar.

A shadow quickly skitters away into a dark corner? It was Ivar being a goddamn menace.

Why the hell is the vase on the ground? It was Ivar, he most definitely moved it. Who else would? No one else had a reason to and Ivar did not need a reason to be impossible. 

Every now and then, Ubbe or Hvitserk or Sigurd would try to pry an answer out of Ivar as to why he was creating such noises or moving things to places that they should not be. And every time they would ask, Ivar would have the absolute gall to pretend like he had no idea what was going on and that they were just blaming it on him because, as he put it, he was always the family’s scapegoat. No, they would say, it is because he is the only one who would fit the description of someone who would do such things in the late hours of the night. 

.

.

.

This was getting out of hand. It was as if Ivar upped the chaos just to piss them off more for even insinuating that he was the culprit of the mysterious noises that occurred when the sky was occulted by a blanket of midnight pitch. 

To summarize, more noises became evident at night, much to the despair of Ivar’s elder brothers.

To summarize the summary, it was getting harder to go to sleep comfortably because of how often their ears were assaulted by Ivar’s shenanigans.

To summarize the summary of the summary, Ivar was being a straight noisy little bitch and his brothers were rightly becoming fed up with his antics. 

.

.

.

Hvitserk was downstairs, lounging comfortably on the couch and texting his lovely girlfriend, Thora. They’ve been dating for a couple of months now and Hvitserk was sure that if perfection was given a physical form, it would be like Thora. Thora was beautiful, kind, supportive, and just absolutely perfect. Every time he would hear his phone give out that telltale, high-pitched ping and a text message from Thora popped in his notifications, he would feel his heart flutter and his mouth split into a wide, and probably very ugly smile. 

They’ve been texting for a while tonight and Hvitserk was in a fantastic mood because, in a few days, he and his beloved were going on a date to the bowling alley. And after that? A nice dinner at…someplace. He hasn’t gotten that far yet, but he’ll figure it out.

Eventually, Thora told him that she was going to sleep and that ended their conversation right then and there. Hvitserk, though still feeling very elevated by his lovely lady, decided to also go upstairs and call it a day. When he trekked to the stairs, he saw a dark shadow quickly jerk away and disappear from around the wall. Exactly as the shadow slinked away, the shattering of something echoed through the hall. This was getting more than just ridiculous. Ubbe had already replaced more than he should have. 

What the hell was going on with Ivar? Was he just amping up creepiness levels by not only just staring into people’s souls as if he was about to steal them, but also harassing everyone in this house by making too many odd noises? In a way, he reminded Hvitserk of a cat in the way that he just knocked things down for no apparent reason other than to just be a complete dick. 

“Ivar, fuck off” Hvitserk called out, his tone made up of very concentrated annoyance. He made sure to up the volume a bit just so he can get it through to his brother that this was ridiculous behavior. He stopped going up the stairs and turned back around to go grab a broom or something to help clean to mess.

He heard no reply until a second later, when a door creaked open from upstairs, revealing a very annoyed and frazzled-looking Ivar. Ivar could see a frown plastered onto his face and his eyebrows were furrowed. 

“What the hell, Hvitserk? What did I do to you? Why are you guys so mad at me at night, I didn’t do anything!” 

Hvitserk felt his soul more or less get sucked out of his body. He felt a deep chill set into his bones as he snapped his head to Ivar and then to the corner where the shadow disappeared. He felt his mouth gaping like a fish out of water and his eyes going comically wide. What the fuck? 

What the fuck, what the fuck, whatthefuck, whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckWHATTHEFUCK-

Ivar must have sensed that something was wrong. “Hvitserk?” 

“So that wasn’t you?” Hvitserk sputtered as he continued gazing at the corner. He must have looked ridiculous.

“That shattering? No, it wasn’t me. Why would you think it would be me? You’re the only one who is downstairs.” Ivar answered, glaring. He looked absolutely done with everything and everyone.

“And what about that vase that broke two days ago, or the picture frame that fell from the wall yesterday? Or all the slamming doors or scratches or items disappearing-” 

Ivar groaned. “No, that wasn’t me! None of that was me! Why would it be me, why can’t it be Sigurd or something?” 

Hvitserk threw his hands in the air before pushing back his hair as he tried to connect the dots. “I don’t know, so you can piss us off or something?” 

Ivar scoffed dramatically, bringing one of his hands to his heart. “I am feeling very insulted right now, Hvitty. If I wanted to piss all of you off, trust me, it would be way worse. I wouldn’t stoop down to smashing ceramics, that is just boring.”

Huh, that sounds about right. 

“So if it wasn’t you, then who is it?” Hvitserk wondered out loud, craning his head to see if he could spot that black-clad figure again. He saw nothing except an empty dark room and shattered ceramic that lay there unassuming on the wooden floor.

“Whose who?” The groggy voice of Ubbe asked. He has never looked more like a tired dad, with his tousled tawny hair that he always promised to cut later, his rather long nine o’clock shadow, and deep dark eyebags that gave him the look of him being clocked in the face. His body, naked except for a pair of boxers, was slumped forwards slightly and his hands reached up to his face to rub them. Sigurd also stepped out of his room, bearing a similar image to Ubbe in terms of fatigue, yet his hair was much wilder. 

Then Hvitserk went on a tangent about what he saw and Ubbe and Sigurd looked unimpressed. Their gazes shifted to Ivar, for he seemed a bit too smug for their liking. They obviously still believed him to be the culprit of what Hvitserk was freaking out about. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t Ivar?” Sigurd asked, casting a seething look to his younger brother, who feigned mock hurt.

“I don’t think he could crawl up the stairs to his room that fast then open his door to pretend he has no idea what is going on.” Ubbe sighed, eventually taking Hvitserk seriously, who was still freaking out over what he saw. What if there was someone in the house? 

“Is that a challenge, Ubbe?” Ivar smirked, looking far too smug for Ubbe’s liking. Ubbe rolled his eyes, and as he and Sigurd went to accompany Hvitserk to make sure everything was alright downstairs and that there wasn’t an intruder, he slapped the back of Ivar’s head, making his younger brother let out a high pitched yelp. 

Everything, other than the shattered ceramic, seemed fine. There was no evidence of an intruder, no evidence that they should be calling the police or anything like that. Perhaps a gust of wind blew into the house and knocked over the ceramic? No, that cannot be it, because all the windows were closed and that ceramic sat against the wall in the middle of the table. Did someone move it beforehand?

None of the brothers knew what was going on. They only knew that Ivar was satisfied with not being blamed for something that he apparently didn’t do again. 

.

.

.

Eventually, Ubbe decided to install security cameras in the home because the noise from downstairs did not seem to disappear. It was still nerve-wracking knowing that there was a possibility of someone slipping into their house and wreaking havoc. He refrained from blaming his brothers (mostly Ivar) for the noise until he could actually catch the culprit or culprits of the noise. 

The culprit turned out to be no one. No one with a physical body, that is.

Much to the horror of his brothers when they watched the security footage, things just seemed to happen by themselves. Doors opened and closed by themselves, little things moved by themselves as if an invisible hand was tossing them here and there, and fragile objects looked to be pushed by indescribable forces. They even caught footage of Sigurd’s pick being pushed about by nothing.  Hvitserk called up an exterminator to make sure it wasn’t some animal living in the walls that were responsible for the scratching noises, but the exterminator confirmed that there was nothing making its abode in their walls. 

The slamming of doors, the scratching against walls, no that was not Ivar being creepy, but something else entirely.

The final agreed-upon reason as to all the noise and strange things that happened was that they were inhabiting a home that was the residence of a restless ghost or a whole family of scepters. 

They watched enough horror movies to have the common sense to not stay in this house longer than they should. 

Ivar also forced them to apologize to him one by one for blaming him for the haunting. 

[popcorn1989]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕤𝔸𝕡𝕡 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕍𝕚𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

Note: Modern/Vikings Boys/Girls - Ask me something lighter, my brain is a big question mark for me too...

Look here for the Others - Here

You -- Hi Ivar, are you on your way already?

Ivar -- I'm t6n my vay

You -- What?

Ivar -- I have to stop because of you

You -- What?

Ivar -- I can only write with one hand when I walk

You -- Are you on your way?

Ivar -- …..

You -- ??

Ivar -- I AM ON THE WAY

Aslaug -- Honey, Think of the Children

You -- What, I don't have any

Aslaug -- Oh, Wrong Chat

You -- No Problem

Alsaug -- Oh, but can you watch my kids today?

You -- I'm not even in Kattegat

Aslaug -- Thank you

You -- Can you help me a moment?

Sigurd -- What for?

You -- The train is not coming

Sigurd -- I don't know the train driver

You -- What? I wanted to ask if you could pick me up.....

Sigurd -- I don't even know how to drive a train.

You -- …

Ragnar -- I'm on the sea right now, check the view out

Sends a picture

You -- Yes, you had your finger in front of the lens

Ragnar -- Oh wait…

Sends a picture

You -- You sent me the same picture, you have to send the new one.

Ragnar -- Oh wait, I don't know … ah here

Sends the same picture

You -- Wow, beautiful view….

Ragnar -- I told you !

Hvitserk -- She has big tits!!

You -- ….

Hvitserk-- Wait… who are you?

You - …

Hvitserk -- Shit, meant to write Ubba, sry

You -- Yeah, have fun...

Hvitserk -- Yes I will…

You --...

Hvitserk -- …

You -- Um, may I ask again about the other day?

Helga -- Of course, dear, it's not difficult, just stick it in the hole

You -- That's not easy the end always splits

Helga -- Lick the end

You -- Oh, it worked

Helga -- I told you it's easy to get a thread in a needle

You -- Haven't forgotten, Floki!

Floki write for 10 mins

You -- This will be a long text

Floki write after 15 mins

Floki -- Ok

You -- WTF

Floki -- I forgot to press send

You -- …

Floki write for 10 mins

You -- … gosh

You -- I'm a bit bored right now

Athelstan -- Then you should read a book

You -- Hm, good idea, can you recommend something?

Athelstan -- I was just about to read the Bible myself.

You -- Spoiler Alert! Jesus dies!

Athelstan -- …. Funny….

You -- Hahahahahhahaha

Athelstan -- ….

You -- Hahahahahhahaha

Rollo -- Quick question!

You -- Yes?

Rollo -- Where can you find these apps?

You -- In your app - shop/store, which one are you looking for?

Rollo -- Does this shop exist in Kattegat?

You -- Are you serious?

Rollo -- Yes

Ubba -- ooh, I've now figured out how to copy chat texts!

You -- That's cool...

Ubba -- ooh, I've now figured out how to copy chat texts!

You -- Super - I'm proud of you, tell me more !

Ubba -- ooh, I've now figured out how to copy chat texts!

You -- great, how long are you going to do this now?

Ubba -- ooh, I've now figured out how to copy chat texts!

You -- ……….

Ubba -- ooh, I've now figured out how to copy chat texts!

You -- Fuck you!

Ubba -- Hahahahaha

[peaceisadirtyword]

The Ragnarssons on Instagram

A few months ago I spent an entire morning doing this because I had an intrusive thought about how it would be if the sons of Ragnar had Instagram. And this came up. I thought it could be fun, I had a lot of fun doing it 👀

I did everything on Canva and using pictures from Pinterest.

• Björn:

-Wouldn’t really care about social media.

-Would post pics of his travels.

-Sometimes he’d flirt but he’d never start the conversation.

-Would post a pic with Lagertha and only a hastag for mother’s day.

-Would never post pics of his gfs but selfies with Halfdan.

• Ubbe:

-Would be the influencer with the perfect life.

-Most of his pics would be taken by Ivar.

-If someone slid into his dms he’d reject them politely.

-Would post a lot about travelling with children.

-Would post a pic with Torvi and a huge text for mother’s day.

•Hvitserk:

-Would pretend he doesn’t care but make Ivar take thousands of pics.

-He would use it to flirt.

-His stories would be of him partying and sailing with his bros.

-Sometimes he’d post something with his nephews to impress his crush.

-Also memes, he’d love memes.

•Sigurd:

-The first thing he’d do would be blocking Ivar.

-Very intense and edgy.

-Would react to stories with a 🔥 to flirt.

-Would post a lot about music and concerts.

-Inspirational quotes and curiosities.

-Would share pics of cats.

•Ivar:

-Would barely post anything.

-He’d make fun of Ubbe being an influencer.

-Quotes and songs with indirects.

-If someone slid into his dms he’d threaten them.

-Would block everyone but have secret accounts to stalk.

-Hvitserk is the only brother he would post pics with.