#possessive ivar

[aissa-snapped]

The Heathen and the Christian

Ivar the boneless x reader ( OC)

Word count: 3401

SUMMARY:When a young anglo-saxon meets Ivar in the woods, she thinks he is a nice innocent boy, only to be shocked when she finds out who he REALLY is and what he is capable of.

A/N:This is my 2nd time writing with Vikings. I hope yall like it. I am also apologizing for (possible) mistranslations of irish and icelandic. I might do a part two to this series cuz i like how its going. Also not readproof

1-Oh Cernunnos god of the forest bless me and guide me.

2- WAIT

3-That one is mine

4- Do that again and you`re dead

Wandering the woods at this time of the year, gave any passer-by a spectacular and magical scenery. The rays of sunshine were breaking through the branches, illuminating the forest in the most wonderful ways. Summer was without a doubt the best time of the year. The weather was finally favorable for farmers, crops were flourishing and nature was thriving. But there was a downside to it. This season naturally brought along raiding parties coming from the north, with the intention of pillaging and eradicating every village in sight of any gold or treasure.

Villagers were adivsed to be extremely wary of their surroundings, and in case of any suspicious sighting to report to the guards.

Walking out of the small one-room cottage, Frigyth took her woven basket, hanging it on her left arm and took steady steps towards the neighboring woods that surrounded her village. She was a young maiden, '' ready to be married'' according to her parents, who took her tasks very lightly. She came from a typical peasant family, with three other sisters and one brother. She was at that age where she cared more about enjoying life than actually being helpful around the house.

She begged her mother days in a row to let her go harvest some berries from the woods, seeing as that was her only opportunity to explore nature and relax a tad bit. She took her already forming path that led her into a meadow, hidden from view by some on-growing bushes. She found a larger boulder, and took a seat in a dent, placing her basket next to her. She had plenty of time to finish her task, she thought, so for now she could enjoy a little bit of warmth.

Clasping her hands in a prayer-way, she took a glance around her, making sure she was alone, and started chanting an old prayer she used to hear as a child from her grandmother.

Ó Cernunnos Dia na foraoise

beannaigh dom agus treoraigh

mé tríd an bhforaois...

From a small distance, the prayer spoken by the girl was heard by a trespasser, that was lurking around in the woods seeking some alone time. Instead, the stranger took a detour and followed the voice, leading him into the hidden meadow. upon his arrival, he analyzed the young lady up closely, noticing how she had her eyes closed, and was in a vulnerable state. It would`ve been very easy for the young Viking leader to take his dagger out and kill her on the spot, which was what he should be doing, otherwise he risked getting noticed by the saxon girl, who in return would alert the whole village of the presence of Vikings.

Or perhaps he could kidnap her, get any valuable information out of her and THEN kill her. That seemed like a better idea.

The warrior got lost in his thoughts for a few moments that only when he heard the girl gasp did he snap back to the current situation he was in. The young woman that was not so long ago sat in a peaceful position was now standing up, grabbing her basket in front of her, as if she thought it would protect her from the unknown boy. You did not need to be a schooled noble to notice that the stranger`s attire was different from the regular anglo-saxon clothing, and the weapons well secured around the belt hugging his waist were a big tell-tale sign that she had just ran face to face with a Viking.

Frigyth was not sure what she could possibly do to escape this situation. If she ran, would she meet other Vikings? Or perhaps if she yelled for help, the barbarians would much faster come in to the aid of the mysterious boy and do her in. Her mind along with her heart were racing, blood pulsing through her whole body, as if it was preparing for whatever would happen next. Feeling a giddy feeling in her stomach, she spotted her way out, then she got into a running position, one leg in front of the other, slightly leaning on it and being ready to sprint at any given time.

The Viking however, seemed too lost in his tracks to think of what he should do to her. He was observing her. Long, curly hair, with a vibrant color that glimmered in the sun. He felt sort of... entranced by her?

Before he let her go, he wolf whistled at her, gaining her attention. '' I am Ivar.'' He spoke in a very thick anglo-saxon accent. Frigyth did a double-take, not being sure she actually heard him speaking in HER language. While on the outside she remained frozen, her mind was filled with multiple questions. Probably because she has never heard foreigners speak her language- or because she has never faced a norman before.

'' What is your name?'' Asked the Viking in an iritated tone. The young girl was not sure it was a good idea to tell divulge her full identity. But realizing she had no other choice, she defeteadly answered.

'' Frigyth.'' It was a simple and short answer, for which she hoped it would suffice. But by the looks on the warrior, he smirked slowly at her, watching with predator eyes as she was shifting uncomfortably her weight from one foot to the other.

'' What was that prayer you were saying earlier? It did not sound like your language.'' The maiden`s heart started beating at an alarming rate. Deep down she knew, that the prayer she was chanting earlier was considered heresy and it was forbidden among the christians. But it`s not like him, a Viking, would go and tell on her to a guard. After all, weren`t they pagans as well?

'' It`s an ancient language. I was praying to Cernunnos, the god of the forest, fertility. I- It`s forbidden to pray to any other god other than the One True God. But my grandmother used to tell me that the old Gods never left and are ever present.'' She finished, admitting what has been laying in her heart for many years, sighing in happiness when she mentioned her grandmother.

To say Ivar was shocked at the newfound information was an understatement. In all his life, he had never encountered a christian praying to a different deity. He was getting more and more intrigued by the girl, and the logical part of his brain that was constantly nudging him to kill her was shutting down completely.

The young leader-who had previously found a good sitting spot on the grass- nudged his head towards the empty place next to him, indicating to her to take a seat. With careful, calculated steps, she approached him, leaving a few centimetres between them, just in case he was going to strangle her, or who knows what else.

'' So... tell me...'' He trailed off, in hopes that the girl would tell him something about herself.

With frowning brows, she kept silent, waiting for him to continue with a question. Ivar rolled his eyes, and asked her about her family.

'' We`re but a family humble peasants .'' The Viking could tell she loved cutting straight to the chase, not giving out any other detail unless asked.

Gaining all the courage she could muster, she turned slightly towards him, asking the dreaded question.

'' Where did you come from?''

Raising his eyebrows, Ivar chuckled darkly, shaking his head softly.

'' I don`t think you want to know.'' He admitted cynically.

'' Will that get me in trouble?'' She asked shyly.

'' You could say that.'' Smiling softly, Frigyth directioned her eyes to the ground, trying to ignore the burning stares of the curious Viking whose hand was slowly reaching up to her face, pausing for a second and taking a hold of a piece of her hair, and twirling it around his finger -almost lovingly so- which made her flinch for a second, before relaxing back and letting him play with strands of her hair.

The atmosphere between the two was peaceful, even though there was silence, but it was a welcoming one, in which neither felt the need to interrupt it. It was as if an unspoken rule was set. Both simply wanted to sit down and get lost between the thousands of trees and take a break from their societal obligations. Ivar leaned back on his elbows, straightening his legs in front of him, to give them a stretch, which gave the girl a full view of his crippled legs. She widened her eyes in surprise, but quickly gained her composure when she noticed Ivar clenching his jaw in anger, averting her eyes elsewhere.

It felt like they were there for an hour or two, when Frigyth sighed sadly and stood up, clenching the handle of the backet in her left fist and started taking small steps towards the hidden entrance marked by two bushes with a beaten track in between them. Ivar frowned, his eyes following her figure sharply, similar to a wolf following his prey.

'' I should go.'' Looking at her feet, she was swinging the basket slowly in her hand, as if waiting for the boy to stop her from going, although, deep down, she knew she was running behind with her tasks and she was bound to return home eventually, and her mother would not be happy if she came back empty handed.

Ivar nodded stoically, breaking his eyes from the girl and with a loud groan, he rolled onto his back, and began crawling towards the girl, ignoring her stares of bewilderment at his methods of traveling.

'' I should probably go too.'' He responded and begudgingly so.

'' It was nice meeting you.'' Frigyth complimented, with a small voice.

'' We will meet again, christian.'' He winked at her, which caused the maiden to let out a nervous laugh, having no idea what he could have possibly meant by that, and on that note, they both departed their own ways.

Upon her arrival back home, she was welcome by her worried mother, who seemed to have a look of concern mixed with irritation displaying across her face.

'' Where have you been?! It`s almost dark outside. And what is this? This is all you gathered in all this time you were gone?!'' She pointed at her basket, which was barely filled with any berries.

Frigyth shrugged off the hand her mother had placed on her shoulder, sprinting inside the cottage. The one-room hut was warm and all her family was gathered round at the table, chatting lively amongst eachother. Her presence was sensed by her father, and one by one her siblings all paused mid-conversation, to look at the newcomer. Her father smiled warmly at her, motioning with his hand to take a seat next to him.

'' We were wondering when you would come back Frig. Your mother was worrying terribly.'' He laughed, patting her back twice.

'' And I had all the reasons to. You know what they tell us, the priests. The woods are no longer safe.'' Her mother huffed angrily, stepping into the cottage and slamming the door shut, checking the small window incorporated in it for any intruders that might be lurking outside their homes. She took her seat, next to her husband and continued eating her freshly cooked pottage.

Frigyth`s father let out a breath of air, rubbing his face with his face. The rebel daughter rolled her eyes, pretending to be oblivious to what her mother was saying. Should she tell anyone that today she has met and spoken to a possible Viking? If she did, then she would reveal to everyone that she had been slacking rather than actually gathering food for the family, and she risked losing the task she was given, and probably forced to return to her old duties, which were mostly around the cottage. So she took the smarted option, and never mentioned the encounter with the stranger.

'' I know. Aelflead and the other blacksmiths think that we are to prepare for an attack.'' The father confessed sadly.

'' What makes you think that, dad?'' The youngest sibling asked, with her curious natured eyes.

'' Because sweetie, we have been ordered by the king to forge as many swords and shields as fast as we can manage. But when we tried asking the guards why, he refused to tell us. They were all acting suspicious.'' He shrugged, ripping a piece of the wholemeal bread and dipping it in the stew.

Frigyth was starting to get nervous. What if they are about to be attacked? But again, Ivar did not look dangerous. Evenmore, he was crippled. Surely that meant he was maybe thrown out of his tribe and forced to die alone. And even if she decided to tell her family about her encounter, in what way would that help them escape the fury of a Viking raid?

The contact she had with the mysterious boy was what kept her awake most of the night, and by the time her body was exhausted and allowed her to fall asleep, the rooster was already crowing, alerting the family that it was dawn and that meant time to go back to work. However, something felt odd. While Frigyth`s family members were grumbingly getting out of bed, the young maiden heard screams and clanks of swords outside. When realization hit her, she alerted her family to be silent for a second in order for them to pay attention to what might have been going outside.

''Haeddi, take the girls and hide in the barn. Wilfred and I are going outside to see what is happening.'' The father instructed his wife. ''Here, grab this.'' He threw a newly forged seax to his son, and he took an old rusty looking blade for himself, gesturing with his head towards the door. '' Let`s go.'' With one solemn look, Frigyth`s father glanced at his girls, holding a strong and loving eye contact with his wife, silently reassuring her that everything was going to be all right.

When the girls were left alone, Haeddi looked at her daughters, trying to contain the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. '' We`re going outside. Stick close to each other. Once we reach the barn, find a hiding spot. Underneath the hay, behind it. I don`t` know. But do it as fast as you can. We don`t know what awaits us out there.'' The four girls looked at her mother, nodding shakily and following closely behind her towards the door. The mother was counting with her fingers how many seconds they had left before she would open the door and the chaos would start. Frigyth could hear the faint screams of terror coming from the villagers and once the door was open and they started running, everything went in slow motion. The action outside became more vivid. The shrieks and cries of pain were amplified and all of those made the girls run faster than they had ever done so in their entire lives.

Once they safely reached the barn, her mother grabbed the youngest offspring and she chucked them both behind some haystacks. The other two sisters went off climbing on a ladder and finding a safe space to bury in.

Frigyth was looking around, trying to find the first hidin place and duck under it, but to her terror, she was forcefully grabbed by her arm by a very muscular man, that looked like he could eat her alive. She gulped, eyes wide open and heart drumming against her chest, almost as if it was ready to jump out of her chest. He gave her an animalistic smile, that sent shivers down to her spine. Her sisters and mom were watching terrified from the hiding spots how poor Frigyth was going to get killed...or worse.

With an unmatchable force, he turned her around with her back facing him, and raising his axe and readied himself to cut her thin linen dress open, ignoring her pleas and screams to stop, but a powerful voice made him pause mid-action.

''BÍÐA!'' Both the cruel man and Frigyth turned their heads to look at whoever just stopped the brutal Viking. The girl couln`t believe her eyes. Sitting in a single seated strange looking carriage pulled by a beautiful white stallion, sat the very guy that around this time the other day she was enjoying her time with in the meadow.

''ÞESSI ER MINN!!'' Ivar approached the enormous barbarian and pulled him away from his victim by his hair, holding his dagger against his throat.

''Gerðu þetta aftur og þú ert dauður!!'' He spat with venom, letting go of him. When he looked at the shaken lady, he softened his eyes, offering a friendly hand for her to take. She shakily shook her head no, losing any trust she had in him.

Seeing how reluctant she was, Ivar huffed annoyed. '' If you come with me, you`ll be safe.'' He promised. She glanced back at her mother and sisters-who were terrifyingly and confusingly observing the interaction between the two-, looking back and forth between them and him. He instantly put two and two together, and rolled his eyes playfully. '' They will not be harmed IF... you come with me.''

But before she had any chance to speak, her father and brother came rushing to her aid. Wilfred, her brother, seemed unharmed, except for a few cuts here and there and some blood staining his blade, but her father seemed to have a pretty deep cut on his side, that was bleeding alarmingly.

'' STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!'' Her father yelled, pointing his old and chipped sword at the Viking.

Ivar mockingly raised both his arms in surrender, faking a terrified expression. After a few moments, he then grabbed his trusty dagger, swirling it smoothly around his finger and pointing behind him at the army that was currently ravaging the village.

''See that? I am the leader of all of them. I can order them to stop anytime if I want to. That is why I am asking YOU again.'' He pointed his dagger in Frigyth`s direction. '' Are.You.Coming.With.Me?'' He asked slowly, putting an emphasis on each word, to ensure he was being understood.

The curly haired girl looked with saddening eyes at her dad, who was still clutching his sword with all his being, as if believing THAT could actually help her, then at her brother, who was copying his father`s movements, but with less confidence and then at her mother and sisters, who were all shaking their heads no and crying silently, not knowing what the outcome of this woul be.

There was no backing out of this. She had two simple but impactful choices. She either went with him, probably ending up a slave, but at least her family was safe, or so she hoped. Or she could refuse, and get killed by the previous Viking.

With determined steps, she approached Ivar, making him smirk in victory. Her father yelled at her angrily to get back there behind him, but she was already climbing Ivar`s carriage. The young ruler grabbed her hand softly, guiding her to sit on his knees, that she now got to observe, were covered in some sort of metallic braces.

Once she took her seat in his lap, he stroked her hair with one hand, while whispering in her ear. ''Good girl.'' She sat frozen in his lap, letting him wrap a strong arm around her waist to keep her steady.

She took a one last glance at her family, waving sadly at them and struggling to keep her composure.

'' They will be safe, right?! You promised!'' She asked desperately, glacing back at her house, which was now growing to be more and more far away.

'' On my arm ring.'' He pledged, placing his palm over his bracelet for a moment, showing her that he was serious about his oath. Grabbing with one arm the reins and with the other gripping her tightly against him, he yelled something in Old-Norse to the other men, fleeing the village afterwards towards an unknown location to the girl, from where a new life was about to start for her. She could only hope it was going to be good.

[flare-queen]

Mafia Possessive AU, After Lagertha gave Ivar nights of passion, he grew obsessed and protective, when she didn't give him time of day it ticked him off to the point he would stalk her, love and obsession, passion and violence.

[xradiant]

She has to wonder about him and the state of his mind. There had to be a feeling of threat hanging over him. Did that cause him nerves? Did it ever make him afraid? She watched him closely, the figure of him, the look in his eyes. She can't figure out if it's a somber look that she finds there or if it's absolute anger that she can see instead. Of course, she should fear him. He had been sent to kill her, after all. But for some reason Selma only wants to think of the fact that he had saved her, had taken her away from that death before he could end her. Anyone would perhaps call her crazy but he was someone that she found herself clinging to in spite of everything. "That's all." She answered with a nod of her head, finally setting aside the poker and then turning to face him. Gently she smoothed the front of her dress before huffing out a sigh and going to sit near to him. He looked like he had stumbled here from somewhere dark and she had to wonder what she could do to lighten that look in his eyes, brighten that aura that shadowed over him. Flattening her skirts, she gave him a small smile. "No need to think about death." And then she reached her hand out to gently touch his, fingers whispering a caress over his. "Not when you saved me from that exact thing." And there was a plea in her eyes as she stared into his.

@tothedevilsshow xxx

[honestsycrets]

Amor y Respeto I: Mi Alma || [Miguel O’Hara x Latina!Reader]

Chapter II: Corazón

❛ pairing | Miguel O’Hara x FB!Reader, platonic Hobie x Reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | the moment you want a sign of love from Miguel is the moment that your relationship is fucked. 

❛ tags | fuckbuddies, a very latinx piece, jealousy, jealous Miguel O’Hara, a sparse hobie appearance, spidey!reader, latina!reader, no translations of the spanish included, gif credit to the original owner, nsfw, female reader, some mention of blood and wounds, some creative liberties, slight spoilers.

❛ sy’s notes | not my usual fanfare and i’m a little rusty but miguel hit me straight in my heart. i consciously omitted spanish translations in this work. consistent pet names include mi alma (my soul) & muñeca (doll). this is not my usual fandom and i may have missed some fandom nuances, so i apologize in advance for creative liberties. lastly, emotions impact the reader’s healing capabilities, hope that's clear enough. thank you @lisinfleur​ and @ivarsrideordie​ for your help. i’ll be dropping an ivar fic soon, see you then!

In your cultura, disrespect was unacceptable. 

You knew it. Your lover knew you knew it: but for you, there was something greater than respect. Amor. If he knew that you knew about her little escapade, oh, it would be unforgivable. It undercut the very foundation of what he did at HQ. But even between lovers, where the time you spent was fleeting and unstable, there were things you could not share. Besides... how would he know? 

The day had been long. Your body ached with the dizzying speed of patrols past the vine-covered high-rise apartments of your beautiful city. Your room was stuffy with the tropical air struggling against humidity. With dried blood on your skin, the perfect remedy was a shower. Its warmth soothed your aching muscles after a long day. You found your mind wandering to problems that didn’t immediately demand a solution. How you’d avoid cotton mouth the next time you saw him. Sooner than you thought.

The shower door whizzed aside, plumes of steam fading into the cool air. “Shit!” you shouted, reaching to cover your body. Miguel bent his head as he stepped into your cramped shower and cupped the frame. He shut the shower door. Did he already know? You nipped your lower lip raw and the taste of blood turned your tastebuds. Somehow, you knew that he hadn’t slipped off from HQ just to have you. Not tonight. He had that glazed-over look in his sharp eyes, considering you the same way he might consider anyone else. 

 “Miguel?” you fluttered your lashes at him which winked off plump droplets of water. “Mi alma, que paso?” 

“Did you know?” 

You reached out to turn the knob of the water off. It creaked to a stop. Despite tracing the droplets that coasted down your curves, he watched you with otherwise uninterested eyes. When you failed to respond, he stomped closer, kicking up the water that swirled under your bare feet.

“Did you know?” His fist pounded the side of the shower wall. Your heart leapt into your chest where it fluttered painfully, encased in your chest. Miguel bared his angular teeth at you. Teeth that usually marred your neck with possessive bites, loving kisses, and teasing scrapes. He never bared them at you like this. It was always a possibility, never the reality.

You met his eyes. The certainty you had moments earlier that oh, he wouldn’t find out, was gone. Of course, he found out. Your Miguel always found out. With that dead, blank expression, you knew the gravity of your situation. 

“Of course, I knew.” His chest swelled with forceful inhalation of air as you spoke. “But Gwen… I, they’re only kids. Kids who--” 

“Kids? They are not just kids. Coño, I’d expect this of them,” he prompted your name and took a step forward. You took one back. Then another, knocking your back into the shower walls. You were like a small bird in an even smaller cage. Nowhere to run and still, he wasn’t about to give you the luxury of personal space. You were pinned between his firm chest and the two stony walls against your back. His voice lowered dangerously low, barely a murmur against the shell of your ear. “But you? You know what’s at risk.” 

“They love--” 

“Y que?” he snapped your name out again. “Tell me, when those kids destroy thousands of lives, what does that change? Have you ever stopped to think of that? Of the lives this will ruin?” 

“I just... wanted them happy. If even for an instant.” You hung your head. He set his clawed hand to the side of your head, combing through the stringy strands of your hair down with a false care that you wanted to believe in. But it was entangled in the strings of his manipulation. “Of course, you have, muñequita.” 

“Then can’t they--” His hand balled up into a fist and careened with the wall behind you. Your head snapped away as his claws unfurled and released crumbling bits of the wall by your naked toes. You’d have to clean that up-- later. You took a deep breath and exhaled the frustration that packed away in your belly. “Sabes qué? I am sorry that love isn’t enough for you, I am sorry that I have never been enough for you.” 

“No. No puedo con esto,” he looked down at you. As he leaned in, his forearm above your head supported his body weight. “Muñeca, por favor. This isn’t about us.” 

“Why can’t it be?” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I just want to be with you, but you won’t let me in,” you reached out. The soft pads of your fingertips hovered by his sharp jawline eased past his ear and into his ruffled hair. For a second, brief as it were, his eyes softened. He leaned into the touch. You had your window. “Why won’t you let me in?”

Whether or not he was past the anger, the disrespect, his thick arms wound around the small of your waist. In some bid to bring you back to your senses-- to him, he set his forehead against your own, dwelling in the soft scent of your floral soap that filled his nose. You tilted your head, capturing his lips in a kiss. His body became as sturdy: unmoving and guarded. 

“I can’t give you what you need.” He reached back to remove your hands from his hair and with care settled them back on your moist chest. As he made his way out of your bathroom, his warning echoed through your mind. “Stay out of my way.”

Miguel’s love was unstable. Affection, not love. If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that you always knew it was bound to fail. You were lucky for what time you had with him. It made subsequent missions all the harder, wrapped up in this innate desire to be loved by a man who allowed himself to be loved by none. Without his affection, HQ felt barren. Its many corridors held no life, no love, and no prospect of a better future. Yet, for Miguel, there you were. Your ballet flats tapped furiously alongside the ringing stomps of your partner’s steel-toed boots.

“Ay bendito, this isn’t healing,” you dabbed your fingers in the blood at your shoulder, storming past a sea of red and blue that parted for the pair of you. Your neck was oozing-- well, not oozing so much as soaking your outfit. The mission could have gone better. Sometimes your mind wandered at the worst of times. It didn’t matter, not now. It was done, he would be happy, and it would be enough for today. All that you did you did for him-- and he knew it.

“Your man won’t be happy about that,” Hobie cut through the crowd while walking backward. He made it look so easy. Conviction, you guessed, made life much easier. 

“No,” you took the end of your silky rebozo and held it to your shoulder. “He only cares about results. We have good results. What does he have to be angry about? He has everything he wants.” 

“Hm.” Hobie hummed, span around, and leaned over your shoulder. He was on your tail with his aggravatingly long legs no matter how quickly you walked.

“Hobie, por dios.” 

“He broke up with you, didn’e?” 

You didn’t have to answer him. You didn’t even need to talk to him. You could just keep walking and leave it to his imagination. Yet, your face faltered. The perceptive man he was, Hobie twisted in front of your path. He leaned his hips back and sank his face inches apart from yours. Hobie quirked a smile in his lazy eyes and an adorable lip pout. Your eye centered on his piercing to avert your focus from his words. 

“Yeah,” he answered his own question. “Bet he did.” 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” you swerved around him.

“Maybe.” Hobie shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and sped after you. “But I’m with you.” 

“How sweet.” 

You knew your Miguel would be there: on that stupid platform, staring at multiple screens, at a lost life, departed from his reality in any other capacity but maintaining the happiness of others. Well, others that weren’t like you. You found him in that very same position when you pressed into his lab. 

“What is it now?” 

“We’ve taken care of it-- Hobie and I.”  

“Good,” came his dry response. “Is that all?”

“Not in the mood to talk to your girl, eh?” Hobie clicked, throwing his arm over your shoulder: not out of care, or friendship, but spite. No matter the institution, Hobie always seemed to harbor harsh feelings for those in charge. If it meant pissing him off a little, rattling up the flow of HQ, Hobie was always an eager volunteer. Hobie turned his lips to your ear and prompted your name, “C’mon, leave him. Let's go get a drinky drink.” 

You bit out a cry at the pressure on your neck, the damn thing wasn’t healing nearly as fast as it needed to be. You blamed the bundles of anxiety that rattled up emotions low in your belly. It was still open, soaking Hobie too. He didn’t mind a little blood on his shorn uniform. Good for the image, and all that.

“That hurt, Hobie!” 

Miguel threw a glance over his shoulder. Just a moment, but enough to spot something else that agitated him. Your normally white outfit, fluttery and light, splattered with the blood that painted your red rebozo a little redder. Or maybe it was Hobie’s lips on your ear, making remarks about beer-- or whiskey-- or-- Molotov--

“Get off,” Miguel pounced down from his kingly stoop and flicked Hobie’s wrist. He snaked his wrist away, shoving his palms back into his pants. You threw him a look knowing that it was not because Miguel told him to but because he felt like it. The devil’s advocate that he was. Miguel unraveled the rebozo from your neck. His hand grasped your chin and angled it one way, then the other, rumbling in clear agitation “You’re wounded.” 

“Déjame quieta. Don’t touch me.” 

“And you?” Miguel rocked back on his heels, setting his well-corded arms on his hips. Then, he angled his body toward Hobie. “Where were you?” 

Hobie lifted his pierced eyebrow. “He serious?” 

“I can handle myself.” 

“Can you? And you-- why are you still here?” Though Miguel asked the question, it was a statement. Hobie held his palms up, fluttering his fingers in mockery. You watched Miguel run his fingers down the bloody rebozo, counting its bloodied inches.  

“Vente conmigo.” He leaned into your ear. The trill of his voice danced down your spine, low and husky. Your mind wandered to the many nights he whispered just the same in your ear. You suppressed the shiver, your heartbeat trembling so violently you were sure you could hear its pathetic thumping, nearly a cry. It hadn’t been long but... you missed this.

“You told me to stay out of your way. I am staying out of your way. Give me--”

“I won’t ask again. Either you come or I’ll make you.” That was it then. A flash of disbelief snapped across your face. The gall of this man. Even though he told you to stay out of the way, he demanded that you leave the lab with him? You caught Hobie perking up to look your way with shiny curious eyes. He pointed to his chest and then yours, suggesting… something you’d ignore. Hobie slipped out a smug hum.

“I’ll catch up with you later, Hobie.”

There were no good alternatives. You knew he would make good on his threat. Not that you particularly would want to fight him anyway. Whether it was respect or obligation, you ran after your Miguel, who already walked away. You snatched the rebozo from his waiting hand, suspended in the air.

Yes, your life was a delicate balance between love and respect. You weren’t sure which of those guided you back to Miguel’s dimly lit room. Only that as you sat on his bed, your once-was lover was behind you. His fingers worked swiftly on your neck, furiously tugging at your sore neck with what felt like a needle. No point complaining. It would eventually end. You could go find the boys. They could rail you about your dating choices as they always did. 

“Lyla will find you another backup partner,” he broke the silence. You rathered he didn’t operate in this limbo of false intimacy. Your lips parted into a sigh rife with agitation. The drawback of fucking your boss was this, you supposed. He controlled your life.

“No, she won’t. I like working with Hobie. I want him.” 

Miguel paused short of dipping the needle back into your skin. “What do you mean-- you want him?” 

“What does it sound like? I like working with Hobie. I trust Hobie. So I want Hobie by my side.” You slapped your lacey thighs and turned to gaze into those familiar eyes. “Así que, no, I do not need another backup. I don’t need you controlling every inch of my work life. I need you to hurry up.” 

“Muñeca. If you’re emotional, you’ll heal slower.” 

“Do not call me that,” you jumped from his lush bed. Your neck squealed for you to stop and let him fix what was clearly broken with the slack thread that connected your body to his. Oh, and what a metaphor it felt like. Your life was sewn together by a man who held all the strings in his hands. “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore. You made it clear how little you feel about me-- and my feelings.” 

He lifted his eyes to yours. A long, slow look. The sort of look that made you question it all. As if the things you said weren’t really from your lips, no matter how sure you were of them.  You broke the exchange first and grasped the long strand embedded deep in your neck. 

“Your feelings,” he held out his hand and tugged the line, “tend to get in the way of what needs to be done.” 

Startled, you looked down at his open palm. You slipped your smaller fingers into the middle of his palm and sat back on the bed. He slid behind you, pressing his core against your backside-- because that was completely necessary. With soft care, he shifted your hair over the opposing shoulder and continued his work. 

“Apart from that, you shouldn’t have gone on that mission. You were distracted. If you weren’t so emotional,” Miguel murmured. “We wouldn’t be here.”

If you weren’t emotional? You screwed your eyebrows together in a pathetic attempt to ignore what he just said. To ignore the way that he demeaned the fuel of your abilities, what guided you through this traumatic thing called life. Meanwhile, Miguel functioned on minimal emotion-- the suppression of what he’d lost by protecting what he was. 

“It’s your fault I was distracted in the first place.” 

“You should be able to control your own feelings.”

“Fine. Apúrate. I’ll get out of your way.” 

Miguel snapped the healing aid thread and ran his clawed fingertips across the long streaks on your neck and shoulder. It was mere moments that he lingered there circling your neck. As your breathing evened out, you felt your body pull together fibrous strands of tissue and heal. Yet, you couldn’t care. 

“Done.” Miguel refused to address your gaze but opted to draw your top back into place to over your breasts. You stood and secured the buttons of your halter top behind your neck. That was it. You’d return to your duties, healed half by your emotions and half by Miguel. You would need to learn to ignore the love you had for him. One day, all this would be well. Miguel rolled up the excess thread around his reel.

Fine. If he was going to ignore you--

“Do you think,” you paused long enough to debate your words. Enough for Miguel to glance up with his stoic red eyes and lift an eyebrow at you. It irritated you how unemotional and consistently unbothered he could be when you stood there just the opposite. Always desperate for a sign of his feelings. “Hobie wants to fuck?” 

There were some lines you should never cross. While you would never actually fuck your partner, the mere mention of the thought ever crossing your mind was one step too far. It was terribly disrespectful. Miguel’s reel plopped onto the floor and rolled short of your feet.

You slid your palms over your hips before hooking at the bend in your waist. His gaze focused on the glide of your hands trailing slowly down your sides. Sides that he often snatched in the dead of night after a warm shower. Or that he’d cling to during lovemaking. Your following words caused him to lurch off the bed. “Qué piensas? He might still be in HQ, no?” 

“What,” His hand fit along your neck like a tight collar. The next moment, pain radiated from your skull and blurred your vision. The pain licked flames of excitement to life in your belly. A gasp slipped from your lips. Instead of shock, your cry was tinged with delight. With his wild brown hair slumping forward over his scarlet eyes, he was more beautiful than ever. His claws squeezed your neck, jerking and slamming your head once more. His breath tickled your cheek. “What did you say?” 

Of course, he couldn’t help himself: the control freak. He was a genius. You knew he knew it was bait. He had to. But your looming threat was enough for him to take the risk. Your lips curled, laughing your words rather flippantly. “I said-- do you think Hobie wants to fuck?”

You eviscerated his already thin patience. The searing pain of his fangs piercing your battered neck seared all thoughts of Hobie from your mind. Your hands choked out a pitiful cry. “Miguel, Miguel, Miguel-- calma.”

The familiar burn of his frantic biting, his violent ownership of your body, made your body slick. He lifted your hips onto his, legs dangling over his slim thighs. Crunched up against his massive body, you felt small but as if you were the focus of his world. Just how you loved to feel when you were encased in his arms.

“You think he could fuck you like I can?” His gravelly voice rumbled. His face pinched tight, daring your response. “That you can replace me— so easily?”

No, the answer was a resounding no. But he didn’t need to know that. If Miguel thought he could play games with you, you’d play games with him. The last forty-eight hours had been a blur of his rejection. It was only fair that Miguel felt the same.

Blood seeped down from your neck, a feeling you were accustomed to today. On the other hand, you weren’t accustomed to how he tore into your uniform as if it were as offensive as your harsh words. You calmly noted that you were glad to have multiple: a consequence of doing this work too long. 

That was it. You slid your hands up his forearms, around his firm biceps, to his broad shoulders. There you rested your arms, knocking your foreheads gently together. Past the rage, you recognized the slightest hint of fear in his eyes. The promise that you were lying. For security under another name. You refused to give it to him: he never gave it to you.

“He is Spiderman, isn’t he?” 

He shifted the pad of his finger between your lips. Your tongue slid over his thumb, crooked in your mouth to suppress any more words that he may regret hearing or that you may regret saying. 

“He may be,” Miguel rasped. His lips quirked into a wicked grin. With Miguel’s sudden sharpness, you weren’t expecting to see his smile. You welcomed it, a rare delight that you found yourself loathing the more he spoke. “But you’re mine.” 

His. The inklings of fear you previously spotted in the depth of Miguel’s eyes seemed to weaken, sliding his thumb from your lips, rolling past your nipple, and the muscles of your stomach. He slid past your vulva, trailing with expert care along your slit. It was barely a touch if even a graze. Words failed to form. They were a thick bolus in your throat, congealed and thick.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I thought so.” 

Your eyes trailed Miguel’s strong jawline and ambled up toward his lips. Your gaze lingered there as his fingers slipped between your lips, finding your cunt soft and wet. His eyes flickered toward your shy gaze and danced his lips against yours by virtue of his words. “It doesn’t seem like you’re that interested in finding him.”

“How would you know?” you cried out when one of his clawed fingers dipped inside your body. Your hips jerked onto his hand to seek out more of him. Your traitorous, awful body. It wasn’t comfortable when he scratched you while stroking your velvety inner walls. But you always needed more of his touch.

“Oh,” Miguel hummed. He bent close-- your eyes now focused on his high cheekbones. You couldn’t look him in the eyes and know that he knew how weak you were for him. “I know. It’s the way you look at me.” 

“As if--” You dropped your eyes, reveling in the pressure of his prodding fingers, the delight in having him here, with you, once again. It shouldn’t have felt as intimate, as comforting as it did, but it did. His fingers withdrew, pleased with his work. “You know I can give you what you need.” 

“You said you couldn’t,” Miguel slipped his fingers into your mouth: sweet and sour with your own excitement and the scratches of blood. His hands worked at the waist as you secured yourself on the wall with your hands, knowing what was next-- and expecting it. 

“I lied.” he drawled out, a long hum. He spat on his hand and rubbed himself as you watched, anticipating the soft prod of his cock’s head at your entrance. It hadn’t been long. Yet, as he buried himself in the warmth of your body, you inhaled a wealth of air into your chest, exhaling it in soft shudders. Perhaps it was the fear of never having this again. 

His large hands shifted underneath your ass and pinned you square against the wall. His claws drew blood to the surface of superficial cuts. Your hands snapped to his shoulders and clung onto him for some security. You found no rest between the wall chafing your back and Miguel’s long, pointed strokes into your body. Your body burned with the pull of his dick dragging in and out of your cunt, fighting to keep him inside with every squeeze and pull. He wasn’t lying, you knew. But it didn’t matter. Not when you were his complete and utter focus. 

Miguel let a word of praise slip free as he ground into you. With a wall of muscle before you and the sturdy wall behind, breathing was slight and hard to come by. It had to be what he wanted-- to make you focus on him and him alone. It’s what you deserved after antagonizing the man. Your hands found his hair, knotting your fingers in it, and accepting the ferocity of his deep, then shallow strokes into your core. Your eyes flitted shut as he bottomed out, grinding his hips in tight circles. As you came, your body furiously clenched onto his cock, slowing his sweeping thrusts. 

You craved it: the moment of Miguel’s weakness. Your body urged out his orgasm with a noise tempered by pleasure and annoyance. Your cunt milking earned you a particularly firm slam of his hips. Miguel would drag you down to take it all. He spilled into you with a deliciously unique warmth, grinding his hips until spent. His forehead rested on the crook of your neck. In place of another hard bite, he gently kissed your collarbone and throat. After he finished, he settled you down onto the floor. But your legs were sloppy, weak shaky things. Miguel snatched your hand as you swayed to keep yourself upright. 

“I have to go,” you held his hand begrudgingly for support. Then bent down to pick up strips of your clothes. Yet another victim of your relationship with him. You would have to... mend this. Somehow. Probably not. “They’re expecting me--” 

“Muñeca,”

“Cálmate, Miguel. You know I’m not going to fuck him,” you swiped the coursing fluids down your thigh. You dragged your hand down Miguel’s firm chest and danced your finger up his chest to flip up his chin. He glanced down, puffing air from his nostrils in protest. His eyes rolled, oh so slightly. “He’s not my type. I like them big, mm?”

“You would if he was?” he bristled.

“I never said that.” You said. Despite this fact, certain needs needed to be met. Ones that if he didn’t fill, someone else would. You both knew this. Your work was long and stressful and done in the name of the man who was before you. If for nothing but that love, you knew you would keep going. You believed in Miguel: his choices and his heart. 

“You didn’t need to.” 

“Mi alma--” you stopped, waving your hand at his pet name. “All this is fleeting. I need someone that will meet my needs. To tell me they love me. Can you?” 

He pressed his lips together and stewed on your request. You knew without a question in your mind what that answer was. In the aftermath of sex with Miguel, he was closer to you than ever. And yet, it was impossible to convince him of an actual connection. For him, it was easier to leave you than love you. 

He didn’t need to say it.  

“I know you, Miguel. You didn’t lie. It was the truth,” you slipped your hand from his. Instead, you opted to set a fleeting kiss on the side of his lip. For better or worse, he didn’t reciprocate. Your steps carried you backward. Then, you afforded him a small deprecating smile. “Other than sex, you can’t give me what I need.”

[milkb0nny]

Hii 👋🏼 Can you do an Ivar x floki daughter? They were raised together and she was his only friend when he was younger because she wasn't scared and he'll always protect her.

Older she become a healer of the village, and one day floki want her to marry ubble/hwitserk and Ivar become very very jaloux..👀

You can make fluff/smut/ angst as you want!

thank u 🤍☺️

Sorry for my English it’s not my first language

Jealous Games

Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

Summary: One day, your father enters your room, unveiling that your parents want you to marry Ubbe. Though, the past years you grew feeling for another man: Ivar. You never told anyone about your true feelings for the man but now that Ubbe is supposed to be your husband, you feel utterly broken down. Refusing the offer, you leave the scene, only to discover a life changing secret...

Note: Thank you SO much for this request. It was a lot of fun writing it. I enjoyed writing this particular request more than I should've. 🤍 I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: slight angst (nothing graphic), forced possible marriage, mentions of anger issues, detailed kissing scene

Genres: slight angst, fluff

word count: 2.445

Ivar's childhood was shrouded in a tapestry of dark grays and blacks, a period marked by relentless bullying, discrimination, and a stark absence of love. love. Amid this harsh environment, Aslaug, his devoted mother, stood as one of the few adults who genuinely embraced him. Yet, even her unwavering love couldn't quell the relentless growth of his simmering anger. But, within these somber times, there existed a glimmer of hope - a hope that emerged when you entered his life.

Ivar adored Floki, viewing him as his own father and protector. Whenever the cruelty of both children and adults bore down upon him, Floki served as a steadfast anchor, and so did you. Your friendship started with a shy hesitation.

Helga and Floki, your parents, had taught you to always accept others, no matter how they looked like. You watched your father engage with Ivar, teaching him the art of weaponry and regaling him with Nordic sagas. You had shared them whenever you wanted company and as a result, the two of you became friends.

As the years passed, your bond with Ivar deepened. He shielded you from any unwelcome advances, such as nasty men, while you provided solace during his most challenging moments. Together, you embarked on hunting expeditions, sharing meals at Ivar's dwelling with his family.

Fortunately, his mother held you in high regard. She possessed a strict demeanor when it came to the women who orbited around her beloved sons, yet she understood your unshakable bond with Ivar. With open arms, she welcomed you whenever you graced her home with your cherished friend.

Of course you faced discriminating comments and remarks from time to time because of Ivar, though you stayed by Ivar’s side. You were the only woman who glimpsed Ivar's vulnerabilities, the only girl who had witnessed his anguished tears and experienced the gentleness that lay beneath his hard exterior during your shared childhood.

You knew him, cherished him, and secretly, perhaps even loved him. Yet, you concealed your affections, carrying them within your heart, as your father saw you both as siblings. Sure, you grew up together and were basically one person, but you could also love him, right?

You kept your adoration hidden and you honestly were fine with it because you remained close to Ivar but you always faced struggles when a woman tried to seduce him. You were a strong and loving woman, supporting a man whom few understood or respected.

In recent years, you had devoted your time to the study of science and honed your skills as a healer. Your knowledge extended to various herbs and methods to mend any kind of injury. Ivar sought your counsel frequently, valuing the conversations you shared.

The atmosphere between you was one of relaxation, love, and kindness, something that Ivar rarely encountered in his tumultuous life. He harbored deep emotions for you, but fear held him back. Rejection had been his constant companion throughout life, even from his own father, Ragnar Lothbrok. This fear of rejection crippled him, making him hesitant to express his emotions to you.

One day, your father entered your room with an unusual expression. You initially assumed he was about to share one of Floki's eccentric ideas, as was his habit. Therefore a bright smile creeped over your lovely face, greeting your father. However, what he proposed was far from comforting; it shattered your heart in a matter of seconds.

“I've been thinking about arranging a marriage between you and Ubbe,” he said, his words falling like lead..

You raised your eyebrows, believing that he joked at first but his serious expression remained - he meant it.

“Uh, father. I don’t know if I-,” you began, only to be interrupted by his eager explanation.

“I thought you’d remain close to Ivar and find a man who truly treats you right. I know Ubbe is a good man who will respect you,” he continued.

You pondered his words briefly, acknowledging that Ubbe was a compassionate and respectful man who held women in high regard. During your childhood, you had formed a fondness for him, but it was far from romantic.

No, you truly despised the idea.

“Father, I don't wish to marry," you protested vehemently, rejecting Floki's wishes, which he met with displeasure. You couldn't fathom joining hands with a man you didn't love, especially if it were your true love's brother. The thought left you with an overwhelming sense of unease.

“Child, you've reached a point in your life where you need a man to protect you. You're all on your own, and we're concerned," he voiced his genuine worries. While you understood his concerns, this request felt like an intrusion on your own autonomy, a call you couldn't embrace. You preferred making your parents proud and being a memorable member of Kattegat, but this wasn’t your true faith.

You were bound to none other than Ivar the Boneless, a man whose depths you knew better than your own skills as a healer. As you sat there, Floki's hand swept across his weary face, his gaze avoiding yours as he delivered the unimaginable truth.

“Ubbe has asked for your hand in marriage, and we've already agreed with Aslaug. The decision has been made, my dear," he disclosed, a heavy burden of heartache settling upon you. Tears welled in your eyes, and your cheeks flushed with the ache of this revelation.

“No, Father,” you protested, your voice quivering from the shock of their decision, made without your consent.

“We only want you to be happy," Floki tried to bridge the emotional chasm, but his words fell on deaf ears. You were consumed by fury, your emotions tearing at you, digging a chasm within your heart.

“I’m not!” You cried out, finally allowing your pent-up emotions to pour forth. "I'm not happy, Father. You have a woman you love, and Mother loves you too. Why can't I?” You shouted while tears ran down your soft skin, falling onto the ground. You sobbed uncontrollably.

“No, don’t think that,” Floki tried to console you, his heart aching as he witnessed your distress. After all, you were his beloved daughter, a sweet and loving child he cherished. Right now, you feared the fatherly connection was breaking apart.

“I’m not marrying Ubbe! I’d rather die,” you declared, your voice barely a whisper but loud enough for your father to comprehend. With those words hanging heavily in the air, you rose and fled the room, leaving your father behind. As you left the building you came across Ubbe, who of course knew about the idea before you did, though you rage signalized that you weren’t enlightened.

Floki followed closely, calling your name, but your steps quickened with each utterance. Ultimately, you ran away, seeking refuge in the familiar embrace of the Kattegat forest, a place you knew intimately. You spent a lot of time in the forests and fields to collect herbs and plants, sometimes even staying overnight in summer. With your father, mother, Ubbe, and the impending marriage fading into the background, you retreated into the solitude of the woods. Little did you know your secret significant other just found out about the marriage through Sigurd.

“You’re telling me, y/n is going to marry my brother?” The crackling fire of the fireplace represented Ivar’s slight rage as he received the information.

Sigurd understood that you were Ivar's soft spot, and while he relished the opportunity to tease his brother, he also conveyed the truth. Aslaug had kept this secret from Ivar, knowing precisely what she was doing.

“Yes. Ubbe is the eldest among us brothers, so it only makes sense for him to claim one of the town's most important women, Ivar,” Sigurd explained while deftly carving a sculpture from wood.

Ivar despised the idea entirely, his lips chewed raw as he gazed out the window. It was not Ubbe's right to simply take any woman, especially not you. He believed Ubbe was not meant for your delicate being, no matter how loving, respectful, and kind he might be. At least in the eyes of the Ragnarsson, Ubbe would never be worthy.

As the evening progressed, Ubbe and Floki entered the brothers' home. Ivar remained silent, seething with anger and disappointment. However, he was not Ubbe's primary concern.

“Ubbe, she ran way. I cannot force her,” Floki implored Ubbe to reconsider.

“Floki, it’s not your fault. I love her though, and you know it. I’d treat her with everything she desires and I’ll love the children she will bear,” Ubbe explained, greeting Sigurd and Ivar with a small nod.

“You don't love her if you'll force her to marry you," Ivar's words were cold and stern, his anger barely contained.

“Excuse me?” Ubbe was taken aback by the accusation.

Finally, Ivar’s jealousy piqued and he looked up to his brother, “You heard me. She doesn’t love you. She never will!” His words struck like a shock.

Sigurd, joining the conversation, couldn't resist a taunt, “Oh, are your little feelings hurt because she won’t hop in bed with you? Poor Ivar.”

Oh, how much Ivar hated these people, these cruel brothers who always take his hope away. They rob him of his freedom, his excitement and love. They always seemed to achieve everything, while Ivar was left with nothing but solitude and heartache. As the tension simmered within the dimly lit room, Ivar's words hung heavy in the air, causing a palpable rift between the brothers.

“Ivar, you have no right to dictate her heart. She's a woman with her own choices," Ubbe retorted, his voice carrying an air of defiance.

Ivar scoffed as a response to this unsolicited statement. It wasn’t Ivar who was trying to force himself upon you, it was Ubbe. All his life Ivar did nothing to pressure you or force you to do something. You had been safe around him, no burdens dragging you down when you had spent time together.

Sigurd, needing to provoke Ivar further, leaned in with a sly smile, "Is that so, Ivar? Or are you just afraid she might choose someone else over you?"

The youngest among them decided to not react to the jokes Sigurd made as he intentionally tried to fuel Ivar’s anger. While Ivar was torn between his immense longing for you and the realization that he might never be able to offer you the love and protection you deserved, Ivar couldn't help but feel that marrying Ubbe was wrong. The young Ragnarsson decided to leave the situation, searching for you.

They didn’t, but Ivar did.

Meanwhile, you had found safety in the forest, away from the prying eyes and expectations of your family and the town of Kattegat. There, you wandered aimlessly. As you reached a small, shallow river, you placed yourself on a rock. The silence and peace gave you enough room to reflect on the horrible decision of your parents.

You couldn’t deny your love for Ivar anymore. Whenever you thought about becoming Ubbe’s wife, Ivar’s face popped up on your mind. He was the fragile yet strong man you truly desired with your whole heart.

Tears still covered your face, seeking their way down into the cold water of the river.

It was in this melancholic moment that you spotted a familiar face among the shadows. Ivar’s presence unveiled itself on the other side of the river. His intense blue eyes, filled with a mixture of longing and despair, locked onto yours.

“Y/n,” he called your name out, his voice heavy with emotion.

You blinked a few times and a broken, yet warm smile rushed over your lips. You stood up, jumping over the small width of the river, getting closer to Ivar.

“Ivar…,” you whispered, seating you down next to him.

Even though you appreciated his company, your heart couldn’t bear to look into his loyal eyes. Alone the fact others think you and Ubbe would be a suitable couple made you feel dirty.

Ivar’s eyes remained locked on you, his voice filling the silence between you, “You… you don’t want to marry my brother, right?”

You frantically shook your head as an answer.

Ivar came a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I can't stand the thought of you being with him," he confessed, his vulnerability laid bare. Jealousy or not, his emotions were genuine and Ivar thrived for your love. Yet, he never told you.

“Ivar,” you whispered, contemplating whether you should reveal your intimate feelings. “Ubbe isn’t the man I want to call husband. Of course he’s intelligent and a wonderful fighter, though…”

Ivar’s soothing voice interjected, “I want you to stay by my side.”

Finally, a massive amount of weight released the both of you, and you widened your eyes in surprise. His confession lightened a fire inside you that you had guessed was already banished. A smile lingered on your lips while you replayed his words again and again in your mind. He asked you to remain his, not to become Ubbe’s woman or anyone else’s.

His eyes expressed his fear of rejection, since you two had shared a unique relationship he couldn’t put together. Your beautiful smile warmed his mind though, letting his hope grow little by little.

Your heart quickened in response to the significant magnetic pull between you. Softly, you said the words you had longed to say the past years.

“Ivar, I love you.”

Without a further word, Ivar reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was both tender and possessive, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of your face. He never held you like this - a whole new level of trust and intimacy unveiled itself. His passion and your admiration mixed together.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. You didn’t know how a kiss normally feels like, but you knew his kiss was the right thing. His lips were warm and inviting, and his breath mingled with yours, creating an intimate connection that defied the existence of everything but your shared love for one another.

It was a kiss filled with unspoken promises - the weight of unexpressed emotions that were kept hidden for many years. It was a kiss that spoke of a love that had always been there, just waiting to be acknowledged, waiting to bloom, waiting to emerge.

When he gently pulled away, your hearts were racing, and a breathless silence hung between you.

Ivar's eyes stared into yours, filled with a raw intensity that left no room for doubt. He loved you too.

“No one will take your hand, except for me, Ástvinur.”

[compact-turtle]

Yandere Soldier x GN Reader PT 1

Concept: Yandere Soldier X GN Reader PT 1

TW: , Kidnapping, gaslighting, possessive, manipulation, brief mentions of ptsd, mentions of death, fear, war, danger, guns, usual yandere behavior, Sexual harassment (Not by yandere), murder, hostage situation

Summary: You save the life of a dying soldier. He becomes attached to you...

Wordcount: 1.7K

-Yandere Soldier, whose fellow comrades burst through a hospital door. They lay him on a bed and shout for help.

- Everything hurts. His lungs are on fire. A million needles are pricking him. Desperately, he tries to scream, but nothing comes out. 

-Doctors and nurses immediately surround him. His crying comrades scream for them to save him. None of it mattered though. All of their voices start to become faint. 

-His vision grows hazy. A dark void begins to swallow his consciousness. There’s only so long he can fight and endure. It feels like someone is holding his head underwater. Every time he tries to get air, it submerges him deeper.

-Is this the end?

-Fear slowly trickles into him. The unknown nature of death frightens him. He’s seen it time and time again. His vibrant comrades slipped into the cold hands of death. Only one thing kept him alive on the battlefield. A fantasy that he'd find someone to love.

-He'd return home and find someone who cherished him. They'd go on dates and dance around in the kitchen. After every fight, they would make up (in bed maybe). Life would have its ups and downs, but he'd cherish every memory with them. 

-In these fleeting moments, he mourns his lost dream. It terrifies him more than death. The idea that he'd never experience love or any of its joys. 

-Yet, he hears something. A soft voice calling out to him. It envelops his mind like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. It soothes him. Slowly, the voice pulls him from the ever-growing vacuum.

“You’ll be ok, sir. Just stay with me.” 

—

-Yandere soldiers who stand outside your room flirting with you. You sat on your bed listening to him. A small smile snakes itself on his lips as he prepares his joke. 

“Why did the chicken go to your house?” 

“Hm. I’m not sure.” 

“Because it was egg-cited to see you!” 

“That was so cheesy, Ivar.” 

-You let out a small snort. The joke was awful. Regardless, it didn't matter to Ivar. He’d tell you a million bad jokes as long as you kept grinning at him. A rush of euphoria filled him up every time. 

-A few months ago, Ivar woke up from his coma. His brain was muddled. There were gaps in his memory. Even his body refused to cooperate. However, adrenaline kicked in as he heard the door creak open. Without a second thought, he lunged for the intruder. 

-Yet, his body gave out. The long coma made its effects known. Ivar thrashed every which way. He tried to kick or punch. Anything. 

-In the end, the staff had to sedate him. When he awoke for a second time, a doctor was there to calm him down. They stated he was in the hospital receiving care for an injury. Also, noting how he tried to attack a member of their staff. 

-He apologized and asked for the doctor to summon the staff member. A heavenly angel was sent to his room. They were dressed in a clean pair of scrubs with a small heart pin on their pocket. Ivar was memorized. His heart began to palpitate and his eyes widened. 

-It wasn’t until you opened your mouth that it all clicked for him. You were the one who saved him. The one who pulled up from the jaws of hell. 

-The two of you began to bond. Ivar waited for you to arrive in his hospital room like a small puppy. He’d eagerly greet you then wait for you to tell him about your day. 

-Throughout his encounters, he learned that you were a volunteer nurse at this hospital. You wanted to help people during the wartime and make an impact on others lives. 

-Some of his comrades began to tease him about his obvious affection. The only one who didn’t seem to notice was you. Perhaps, Ivar was being to obvert or perhaps you chose to ignore it? Regardless, none of those thoughts managed to stop his ever-growing feelings. 

-During this time, Ivar noticed someone during your shifts. Another man who became interested in you. Ivar observed how the man’s eyes would linger on your behind. The way that awful man undressed you in his mind. 

-For the first few days, Ivar ignored it. He convinced himself eventually, the man would stop. After all, how could someone defile such a sweet angel like you? 

-Unfortunately, the man began to escalate his harassment. They'd smack your ass when you bent over or try to squeeze your chest after a usual check-up. The hospital refused to remove him as your patient due to the lack of staff. All they did was reassure you that he’d be gone soon. 

-This pushed Ivar over the edge. Couldn’t they see how you were suffering? You were always happy to help patients. You’d come into the hospital practically beaming. However, the man sucked your light.

-So he made a decision on your behalf. He kindly disposed of the man. It wasn’t too difficult. All he had to do was disrepute a few machines next to him. The man seemingly died of a “natural cause”. 

- A sense of joy washed over him seeing the man suffer. How their eyes turned desperate, begging Ivar to do something. Inside, a small part wishes that he could’ve done more for the man.  Death was something too kind for this man. Maybe drag his knife across their skin to see him truly suffer. Slowly and gradually to make the pain last. Still, someone might have noticed the cuts. Better to play safe. 

-Anyways, he knew he made the right choice. You secretly confided in him that you were glad the man passed away. Every shift, you were afraid of another encounter with that man. Pride swelled in his heart as you told him your relief. 

-There came a day when Ivar was finally discharged from the hospital. He was disappointed to say the least. Thankfully, he already came up with a plan to solve the problem. Ivar stood at the top of some stairs. He looked both ways about to jump. However, he was stopped by your voice calling out for him. 

-You told him that you enjoyed the daily conversations. You also mentioned how you’d love to be his friend and spend time outside of work together. 

-Naturally, Ivar jumped at the opportunity to be with you. He quickly exchanged phone numbers. 

-The next few months consisted of him texting you everyday. He’d check up on you, text random pictures of his meals and so forth. 

-The two of you also had regular hangouts. Sometimes Ivar would take you to see movies, or a walk around the city. Honestly, if you even mentioned something you wanted to do, Ivar had that activity planned out the next day. 

-Ivar felt closer to you than anyone else. Just the thought of you was enough to send his heart racing. 

-Looking up at the clock, Ivar noticed the time. He needed to get going if he was going to prepare everything on time. 

“Sorry, angel. I’ve gotta run. The men need me for a project. I’ll see you later at seven, right?” 

“Seven sounds good to me! Can’t wait to see what you have planned out for us.” 

-Ivar smiled at you. He quickly gave a small goodbye hug. Trying to be discreet, Ivan smelled your neck. The strong scent of your body wash lingered in his nostrils. He desperately wished to cling to you. For you to never be apart from him. 

-Pulling away with a small sense of disappointment, Ivar waved goodbye. 

—------------

-A large bouquet of red roses rests in Ivar’s arms. This afternoon, he spent three hours finding the perfect florist. There was no room for imperfections. Every single detail had to be flawless. 

-After six long months, Ivar had finally worked up the courage to ask you out. He envisioned how it’d play out. You’d accept the roses with a gleeful smile. Afterward, Ivar would take you out to the lake. The two of you would dance across the beach and then share a passionate kiss to end the night. 

-“Wow, Ivar. Finally making your move after all this time?” Chadwick, one of his comrades, said teasing him. 

“Of course, boys. Wish me luck.” Ivar replied, winking, “I’m about to land the angel of my dreams. Some of you, though, are gonna be stuck as single dogs forever. “

-The men burst into laughter. Ivar joined along. Each one patted his back and congratulated him. Some even began to ask about the wedding date. While being praised for his boldness, a loud blaring echoed through the room. Immediately, the mood became uneasy. Everyone turned their attention to the TV overhead. 

“Breaking News! Nightshade Hospital has been overtaken by a rebel group. Multiple hostages are currently being held including medical staff and patients alike.” A news broadcaster said standing outside the hospital, “Shots have been confirmed to have been fired in the building. Please continue listening as we continue to bring more updates about this pressing matter.” 

“Ivar, isn’t your angel at home today?” 

“They shouldn't be at work. Mondays are their days...” Ivar trailed off

-He began to recall you complaining about taking a shift for a coworker. Ivar felt his stomach drop. He moves closer to the TV to get a better look. His eyes are desperately searching for any sign of you. Maybe you decided not to take that shift after all?

-That’s right. It’s possible you were still in your apartment. Safe and sound. You probably were eating snacks on the couch. Or reading that novel you never finished. After all, you weren’t even supposed to be at work today. 

-Buzz

-Quickly, he pulls out his phone. A text notification appears on the screen. Dread ate away all his hopes. 

-Ivar, I’m hiding in a room on the third floor. I think they just shot Dr. Roberts.

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

QUALIFYING ROUND: 132nd Tilt

Stannis Baratheon, Game of Thrones (2011-2019) VS. Ivar the Boneless, Vikings (2013-2020)

Propaganda

Stannis Baratheon, Game of Thrones (2011-2019) Portrayed by: Stephen Dillane

“The One True King, serious about grammar, SD did a fantastic job bringing Stannis to life despite the writing.”

Ivar the Boneless, Vikings (2013-2020) Portrayed by: Alex Høgh Andersen

“Everyone underestimated him due to his disability, but he's a survivor. Is he ruthless? Yes. But there's a reason we remember his name today.”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Stannis Baratheon:

“He's the One True King. All the rest are usurpers. We'll ignore the little blip at the end of S5 (he was led astray by womanly wiles, no such nonsense occurs in the books where he's still alive). That's all the propaganda he needs.”

[Photoset]

[Photoset]

[Photoset]

For Ivar the Boneless:

“Listen I’ve written at an academic level about how most medieval shows fundamentally misunderstand early medieval conceptions of disability, BUT. I was possessed by spirits in the early days of the pandemic and Ivar was so fun if you turned your brain off and ignored the bad ableist bits that haunt medievalism (and the inherent issue of him being played by an able-bodied actor). He was very charming and full of righteous anger and brought such a new energy we hadn’t seen, and I really only cared when he was on screen. Like that’s my clever guy from the sagas and I love him!”

[blakeswritingimagines]

How do you love (Kinktober day 6)

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

Word count: 1.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[woahhhgwendolyn]

Being Ivar's Woman Would Include

Being Ivar's woman would include a lot of different things. To start off it would include him being super protective over you. Like he would want someone he trusts to be with you at all times if he could not be with you at that time. Not only is he protective but he is also really possessive over you as well. he just wants to keep you safe because he knows that people do not like him so that means you have a possibility of getting hurt because they do not like him. Not only is he protective and possessive over you but he is also really loving and caring towards you. He loves to spoil you and cuddle with you a lot. Like I mean a lot. Whenever he notices that you even have the slightest liking of something in the market, he buys it for you because he notices when you like things. He also really loves to cuddle you at night whenever you both are in bed sleeping. He likes to keep you close and feel hoe warm you are against him.

[bravo4iscool]

task force 141 x modern!military!vikings!AU

(idk what possessed me to write this🧍🏼)

(also i don’t really know anything about the norwegian army so… this is probably very inaccurate💀)

tag list - @bumblebeesfromvenus @yazt09 @blackhawkfanatic @hatterripper31

(masterlist overview | vikings masterlist | call of duty masterlist | join my tag list!)

they weren’t a normal task force. they were anything but normal. yet, they were dangerous. more dangerous that one might like.

captain price was surprised when he was told he would work together with them. he’d heard about them. they were the pinnacle of the european task forces, just behind the 141.

but he didn’t know anything about them. no one did. they were a tale, a faint whisper in the wind. they came and they went with the shadows, another body added to their count.

price had briefed his boys on that task force—they didn’t even know its name—and now he was keen on meeting them. the mission must be hard if they needed the 141 and them.

he’s standing on the tarmac, waiting for their guests to arrive. simon is standing beside him, his hand resting on his vest. they didn’t even had time to properly change into their uniform before he’s been told their guests would arrive.

a few minutes later a chopper touched down and price straightened his back. here they’d come. there was a slight frown on his face as he took in the men (and a woman) who walked towards him.

they were tall, as tall as simon at least, and they were broad. strong shoulders and big arms. almost every single one of them had a heavy beard. probably normal in norway, price thought.

they came to a hold in front of price and simon and one of them extended his hand. “captain price, i’m captain lothbrok.” price nodded and shook lothbrok’s hand.

“a pleasure to finally meet you,” price smiles before he looks at simon. “this is my lieutenant, simon riley.” simon let out a small grunt and nodded at the soldiers in front of him. they looked good, skilled.

lothbrok nodded and started to introduce his people. “my ex-wife, lagertha, she’s my lieutenant,” he starts and price’s eyes widen. ex-wife? “that’s my second lieutenant, bjorn, he’s my oldest son.” son? “and those are my other sons, and sargeants. ubbe, hvitserk and sigurd.“ other sons?

price can’t help but notice the one man—he looked very young—in the wheelchair. lothbrok notices the captain’s gaze. “oh, that is my youngest, ivar, he’s our strategist and tech guy,” he explains, resting his hands on his own vest.

simon grunts again, “you’re all family?” he couldn’t really believe it. what kind of family managed to form a task force on their own. how did they all pass training?

lothbrok grins. “we are. hard to believe, huh,” he laughs.

“johnny’s gonna have a field day with this,” price mumbles before he shows his guests inside.

-

“okay, let me get this straight,” johnny looks at bjorn. “your father and your mother were married and had you and your sister, then he cheated and your parents broke up and your father married the woman he cheated with and now you have four half brother?”

bjorn shrugs and looks at the chicken wing in his hand. “pretty much. it’s a long story.”

“and your mother and father like, don’t want to kill each other?” johnny couldn’t quite grasp the history that surrounded this task force. how did it came to be and how was it allowed?

bjorn shrugs again, “ivar and my mother clash from time to time but that’s it.” he looks up from his chicken wing. “but that’s not why we’re here. we have a russian to capture and that’s what we should focus on.”

johnny nods and takes a bite off his own chicken wing. “what do you know about your target?” there hasn’t been an official briefing yet but johnny was eager to know who they were dealing with.

“i’ve heard a lot about you lieutenant riley,” lothbrok says at another table while he takes a sip of water. “you’re famous among the norwegian army.”

simon purses his lips beneath the mask. “is that a compliment, sir?” he wants to know and lothbroks laugh.

“it is a compliment lieutenant,” he muses. “there aren’t many people with a record like yours. captain price must be proud to have you.”

price quietly grunts, “i am proud. simon is an important asset to our team,” he explains. “and please, call me john. everyone does.”

lothbrok nods. “then call me ragnar.”

-

“if you take advantage of this hill here and charger from on top, rather than from the side, you’ll have a significant advantage,” ivan explains while he points to the map on the screen. “if anything they’ll expect you to enter from this side—“ he rolls his wheelchair to the other side of the screen. “—but if it’s as it looks they barely have any security here—“ he moves his wheelchair again, pointing to a different entry. “—so you could technically just walk in there:”

once he stops talking he looks at the others, waiting for an answer. bjorn purses his lips and walks towards the screen. “what about those woods here? what if they have reinforcements there?” he looks at his youngest brother, a slight scowl on his face.

“good question bjorn,” ivar mumbles before he rolls towards his laptop to zoom in on the woods. “i tried to find out if they have any secondary bases in the woods but it’s practically impossible…” he sighs. “we could send in a drone before we charge though.”

“how close do we need to get you?” ragnar asks, scratching his beard.

ivar types a few things in his laptop before he looks at his father. “a few clicks, not too close.” he goes back to typing and ragnar steps in front of the screen.

“what do you think john?” he asks and turns around. “you will be leading after all.” he crosses his arms in front of his chest, waiting for price to speak up.

the captain purses his lips and steps beside ragnar. “it’s a good plan. ivar thought it through perfectly.” price looks at simon johnny and gaz. “what do you think? simon, will you be able to cover us?”

simon nods. “will be possible, yes.”

“sounds like a solid plan,” gaz approves, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

johnny purses his lips before he nods too. “what could go wrong?” he smirks.

-

ragnar walks through the plane, checking with lagertha and his sons. “hvitserk, sigurd, you will go with ivar,” he instructs his son, clasping their shoulders. “once he’s done you’ll join us.”

hvitserk stretches his neck and flexes his fingers around his gun. “copy that.” sigurd confirms his fathers commands with a subtle nod.

simon follows those interactions with watchful eyes, curious of how the mission would play out. ivar clearly was a strategic genius and if his family was as good in the field as he was told this mission could only go easy.

“ubbe, you’ll go with lieutenant riley. you’ll both cover us.” ubbe shoots simon a look and the lieutenant nods. ubbe seemed like a calm soldier. should be easy.

once everyone knew their role they got their green light and jumped out of the plane, even ivar. he had his crutches on his and was strapped to hvitserk’s back.

this has potential for a pt.2🧍🏼

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19

An update in less than a month? What is this?

This is the long anticipated update and I'm so excited to share it with you. Please let me know what you guys think!

Words: 5500

Warnings: All the feels! brief violence, language, just grab some tissues.

Series Masterlist

Ivar loathed all hospitals with an unholy passion. Far too much of his childhood was spent surrounded by sterile white walls and people in scrubs giving him pitying looks that boiled his blood. He hated the continuous beeping sounds, that unnatural sterile scent, even the loud-ass flooring that made each step sound like a heavy weight being dropped.  He despised everything about hospitals. 

But none of that crossed his mind as he stormed into the main lobby of one with the force of an unrelenting tornado. 

He slammed his hand down on the counter, feeling his bones rattle and threaten to break but he ignored the pain. He already had one hand in a cast, why not the other? 

“Where is Kari Larsen?” He demanded of the two nurses behind the counter. 

Neither nurse berated him of how he cut in line, bypassing the four other people, to demand their attention. A fucking miracle. As he stood there, waves of anger and desperation crashing over him, he wondered if they could see it and it kept their mouths shut. Was it so obvious how his edges were fraying? How what sanity he possessed was beginning to crumble until he knew - he could see - that Kari was alive. 

One of them glanced over his shoulder, at his father and brother flanking him, and waved him closer. “Give me a moment and I'll check.”

The desire to scream at her to ‘hurry the fuck up’, ‘didn't she know who he was’, and how he wanted to ‘burn this entire building to the ground’ stung the back of his throat. But none of that passed his lips. For immobilizing terror gripped at his heart with claws sunk in deep, making that blackened organ threaten to stutter to a stop. How his lungs ached as if petrifying within his chest causing each breath to be a struggle to take in. 

He had promised her. 

He fucking PROMISED! 

Uncaring of his hardened reputation, of never showing pain, he dropped his head in his hands, the cast rubbing against his cheek. He tried to take a deep breath, but the panic and self-loathing continued to crush his chest like a Medieval torture device. He just needed to know…he needed to see her. 

Please…

The nurse's ‘customer' voice broke through his internal panic. “Miss Larsen is still in the emergency room but has been moved to a separate room for examination.”

Ivar moved before the nurse fully finished her sentence. Ignoring all those around him, he stormed through that hospital with only one destination in mind. At this point, he almost wished someone would try to stop him so he could hit someone, just do something instead of feeling like he was falling apart. Anger, he knew. Anger, he could work with. But not this terror, not this panic that was draining his sanity and attempting to suffocate him. 

Perhaps, it was the scowl on his face that made people jump out of his way, the aura of danger that radiated off of him, or how he was flanked by his father and brother. With only a few concerned stares from nurses or those that worked there, he guessed they recognized him and his family. He had visited this godforsaken place enough times. Besides, he was a Lothbrok. 

And Lothbroks owned this city. 

Hvitserk raced ahead to open the doors leading into the emergency area, separate from the main hospital. They passed through without incident, into the chaos and mayhem. Sounds of a baby screaming, raised voices, the tang of blood and antiseptic cleaner, it all assaulted his senses but it barely phased him. There was only one thing he cared about right now. 

Marching up to the large desk, he stopped, glaring at the first nurse he came across. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, with a ‘don't give a fuck anymore’ look as she typed away on the computer. 

Too bad she had met her match today. 

“Kari Larsen. Where is she?” He gritted through his teeth. 

The older nurse sighed, looking up at him. “Young man, you need to wait–”

“WHERE IS SHE??!”

Silence echoed in the room. The sudden lack of sound felt like a black hole that suddenly exploded to destroy them all. All eyes turned to the trio at the front desk.

His father put a hand on Ivar's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Most likely intervening before Ivar jumped over the counter and repeatedly stabbed the ugly bitch with that damn pen she kept clicking. 

“We received a call from this hospital that Kari Larsen was here. We've come to check on her and I am personally paying for any treatment she receives while here.”

“Fine. Your name, sir?”

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” He smirked lazily. “My information is on file. Send the bill to Mr Weber, the CFO. He knows how to contact me with any further questions.”

The five other nurses behind the desk all stared, one or two having paled at the name of Lothbrok spoken. The older nurse before them began to stutter out a response, her eyes having widened and mouth dropped open, like an wrinkly goldfish. 

“Now, you will answer my son's question.” His father's voice hardened in displeasure. “In which room is Kari Larsen?”

“I…um…” One of the nurses stumbled out, clasping a blue patient folder to her chest like it was some shield to protect her from the Lothbrok's wrath. “I brought her for a CT scan…just…fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”

“Excellent, now–” Ragnar started to say but a rasped cry yanked the youngest Lothbrok's attention away. 

“Ivar!”

He spun on his heel, facing the hallway just behind him and slightly to his right. All his fear, panic, anger, self-loathing- it all bubbled up to spectacularly erupt as he heard that voice call his name. Her voice! A voice even after three weeks without hearing its sound, he immediately knew. The voice his soul cried out for. 

And there she was. 

Beautiful…

Perfect…

….with dried blood on the side of her head and splattered on her sweater. 

“Kari!” As quickly as his crippled legs could go, he bolted towards her. 

At his responding cry, she broke away from the nurse walking next to her. The damn nurse tried to grab her, but Kari shook her hand off and began running. 

Running to him! 

With tears running down her cheeks. 

She slammed into him, almost knocking them over with her momentum. Ivar stumbled back a couple steps, barely catching his footing, but he did not care. She was in his arms. Where she should be. Where she was meant to be. Finally. 

As soon as she was enclosed in his arms, face pressed against his chest and hands fisting the front of his shirt, she began sobbing earnestly. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her as physically possible against himself as her whole body shook with each ragged sob. 

Hearing her, he wished he could carve his chest open and allow her to crawl in. Fuck, he would do anything to take her pain, to have her even closer, to prove he was never letting her go again. 

That he would always protect her. 

“I've got you, Kari. I'm here.” The words flowed from him like an anguished prayer. “I'm here, sweet Kari. I'm not going anywhere.”

The scent of blood clung to her but he ignored it for the moment. She was here in his arms. Alive and well. 

That was all that mattered. 

He could have stood there for all eternity, the world continuing to spin and empires rising and falling without an ounce of care from him. None of it mattered. Three weeks he had been in turmoil and despair, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign from her. Anything to prove she still cared about him, still wanted him. That he had not completely fucked up the best thing in his life with a stupid mistake. He planned on planting roots right here on the dirty hospital floor for as long as Kari needed him. The fucking nurses and other patients could move around his crippled ass. 

His father had other plans though. 

A tap on his shoulder had Ivar looking up into his father's face, a subtle look of relief there.  “There's a room for her. Let's move her there.”

He gave a brief nod. With the movement, he became aware of the moisture on his face. When had he started crying? He had been so absorbed in finally - finally! - seeing his kitten, in holding her and providing any kind of comfort she needed, he had not realized his own roiling emotions had exploded out in tears of relief and gratitude, that he was practically bleeding out his stress and harbored despair. And for one of the first times in his life, he did not care if others saw his tears. 

Somehow he coaxed Kari along as he followed his father. A strange dance as they moved since she seemed to have no inclination of letting him go. Not that he objected in any way. It was in moments like this he cursed his legs, for if he was whole-bodied he could have picked Kari up and carried her. Instead, with an arm tight around her shoulders and her pressed against his side, refusing to release her vice-like grip on his shirt, they slowly moved. 

The ‘room’ they were directed to was just a curtained off section with a single bed, single chair and some monitors pressed against the wall behind the bed. Similar to the many other sectioned off ‘rooms’ of patients waiting to be moved on or sent home. 

Carefully, Ivar maneuvered Kari and himself to sit on the hospital bed. She curled against him, her ear against his heart and one hand toying with his Mjölnir necklace. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His other hand's fingers were intertwined with hers in his lap. 

Like sentinels, his father sat in the chair, sharp gaze shifting from the closed curtain to his youngest son, while his brother took up position next to their father, arms crossed over his chest. The two began whispering but Ivar only briefly noted their presence.

His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something. 

“What was that, kattungen?”

“You came.” She breathed, her voice raspy and shaky as if holding back more tears. “I gave them your number. I–I wasn't sure if you'd come. I just...I was scared and wanted you.”

How was it possible with such a simple statement, it completely disarmed him. His heart lurched at hearing the undercurrent of fear in her voice, sounding like a child admitting they were scared of the dark. What was worse, what broke his heart, was her fear that he would not come. That he would abandon her. 

He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a slow syrup-like kiss, hoping his actions and words would penetrate through her worry. “I'll always come for you.”

“Please don't leave.”

He tipped his head up for a moment, a useless act to try and stop the fresh wave of tears from flowing freely down his cheeks. “I promise.” His voice broke as he answered. “I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She sobbed out, clinging to him even tighter if possible. 

“Shhh…it's okay. Let's focus on getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, a faint thing, but he felt it for how tightly she was pressed against him. 

A couple minutes later, a doctor stepped behind the curtain, joining the crowded space. He paused a moment, seeing to register the group along with his patient. He cleared his throat loudly before glancing down at the folder in hand. 

“Good day, I'm Doctor Schultz, the attending doctor here today. Miss Larsen?” The doctor paused, eyes focused on his patient. 

When she did not respond, Ivar squeezed her hand. “It's okay, søte Kari, I'm here.”

“Yes, doctor?” She quietly, hesitantly, said. 

“How are you feeling?”

With that fucking stupid question, Ivar wanted to punch the absolute, incompetent asshole of a doctor but settled for glaring at him over Kari's head. 

“I've been better.” She replied. 

The doctor smiled. “I'm sure. The good news is your scans came back clean. You do not appear to have any cranial or brain damage more than a concussion.” He hesitated, as if rolling around a question in his mind before carefully allowing it out. “Is there anywhere else that hurts? My understanding is the paramedics said you were initially screaming when they arrived on scene.”

“Doctor, can you explain what occurred? We were not told about the incident beyond the fact that she was being attended to at this hospital.” Ragnar broke in, his voice broking no argument that his question would be answered first. 

“Of course. Miss Larsen and a companion were involved in a car accident. It appears another driver was not paying attention and drove through a red light, impacting their vehicle.”

A car accident.  

A goddamn car accident. 

Inhaling sharply, Ivar felt the air stick to his lungs like glue. Mentally he thanked the gods, Fate and anyone listening for keeping Kari safe. The outcome could have been very different. 

“Is Erik okay?” The quiet query came from beside Ivar.  

“I'm not supposed to speak of other patients,” the doctor said but his face softened as he looked at Kari, “but I just saw him and he sustained more injuries than you. He likely will be walking out of here later today.”

“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten. 

“My neighbor. He was driving us to the grocery store.”

Erik. Fucking Erik. Ivar did not like the overly friendly neighbor, the twat was trying to encroach on HIS territory. Now hearing this, he hated the man even more. The accident may not have been entirely his fault, but Kari was injured and traumatized while in his presence. That was unforgivable. 

“Miss Larsen, is there anywhere that hurts? You were fairly nonverbal when you arrived.”

“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”

“May I take a look?”

Ivar loathed to separate from her, but he removed his arm from behind her so the doctor would examine her. Damn, if he was going to move though. Plus with the way Kari did not release his hand, he doubted she wanted him further away. 

The doctor opened his mouth, but at the look that promised death on Ivar's face, he wisely did not ask Ivar to move. 

“Hmm.” The doctor hummed as he looked at Kari's neck and ran a hand along the slender column. Gently, he tugged the neckline of her sweater to see better after touching it and asking if his touch caused pain.  

Ivar gritted his teeth, as he glared with disdain at the invasive doctor. He was ready to intervene any moment the doctor went too far in his opinion but a purposeful squeeze from Kari's hand brought him back down. To distract them both, he brought their entwined fingers to his mouth. Teasingly, he kissed each of her knuckles as he held eye contact and gave a cheeky wink. His heart soared as a faint blush warmed her cheeks and a small, shy smile turned the corners of her lips up.

“Well, Miss Larsen,” the doctor stepped back and scribbled on his chart, “I do not see anything too concerning. I suspect the pain is from whiplash and the seat belt tightening. I can already see some bruising beginning on your shoulder, which may worsen. Unless the pain dramatically increases, you will be fine. You will be sore for a few days. My suggestion is to take some over the counter pain meds and rest for the next several days. If the pain worsens, either in your body or your head, come back to the ER. Any increasing headaches, double vision, spots in your vision, fainting, anything along those lines, please return and we will check on your concussion again. Before I release you, do you have anywhere to stay that someone can watch over you?”

“She's staying with me.”

Both the doctor's and Kari's gazes swung back to him but he only stared resolute at the man that needed to hurry the fuck up. 

“Alright…Miss, are you agreeable to that?” 

She nodded silently. 

“Good. One final question, the paramedics were quite concerned about your hysterics. They made note that you only seemed to calm once they helped you out of the vehicle and even then you were silent and unresponsive for a period of time. Do you remember any of this?”

“Yes.” She croaked out, a violent shiver shaking her fragile form. 

“Can you explain what happened?”

“Is this fucking necessary?” Ivar seethed, curling his arm protectively around her and tugging her back into his side. 

“I would like to follow through with–”

Ragnar stood up, blue eyes hard as ice as he stared down the doctor. “Thank you for your time and follow through. If you can finalize the release paperwork, we will be on our way and allow you to move on with your many other patients.”

Bewildered gaze swinging to every person in the room, as if silently questioning Ragnar's subtle rebuke, the doctor sharply exhaled and stepped back to the closed curtain. “I will send a nurse in to provide the paperwork.”

With that the intrusive doctor swung open the curtain and strutted away. 

Once out of sight, Ivar mumbled, “thought he'd never fucking shut up.”

“Be nice.” Kari murmured without any heat in it, more as if it was a reflex. 

Ragnar stepped around the bed and began rustling through the small rolling cart beside the bed. He came back around with an antiseptic wipe. Ivar watched as his father ripped it open and then delicately wiped away the lingering blood on her temple and ear, with far more physical tenderness than he had ever shown his sons. Kari hissed at the initial contact but did not pull away, closing her eyes and slowly taking deep breaths. 

Once cleaned to his satisfaction, Ragnar tossed the wipe into the nearby bin. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as if steeling himself for something. Ivar glanced over at his brother, who just shrugged, his own gaze focused on their father. 

Ragnar crouched down, bringing himself eye level with Kari instead of standing over her like he had done. “Kari, do you want to leave?” He asked softly. 

What kind of dumbass question was that? Ivar opened his mouth to intervene but a cutting look from Ragnar had him almost biting through his tongue to keep quiet. 

“Yes.” She rasped back. 

“Mmm…” Ragnar nodded. “I need you to look at me, yeah? Good girl. Will you be comfortable riding in a car after this?”

Kari tensed and Ivar wanted to bash his own head against the nearest wall. Of fucking course! Why had he not thought of that yet? 

“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”

“No, Kari. Don't be sorry.” Ivar pressed his forehead to her uninjured temple. “We'll figure something out. It's not your fault.”

Ragnar spoke again, all soft edges and thoughtfulness. “Driving Ivar's car back would be the easiest and fastest. If you are uncomfortable with that, we can find an alternative mode of transportation or we can ask a nurse to mildly sedate you.”

With a tremor in her voice, she stated, “I can try. I think I can do it. Just…could you maybe drive slow?” 

Ivar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent encouragement, astounded by her quiet bravery. 

“I'm certain we can manage that.” Ragnar grunted, amusement in the quirk of his lips. “One last question.”

She nodded hesitantly. 

“I need to know, if while we are driving, will you start screaming?” 

This time she answered shakily. “No.”

“Do you recall why you were screaming at the accident?”

“Father.” Ivar growled, disliking this turn of questioning. 

“I need to know for our safety.” He returned his sharp gaze back to Kari, but did soften his voice.“Do you remember?”

“Memories.”

“Memories?” Ragnar repeated. 

She hummed. 

“Were you in a car accident recently?”

“No…”

“That's enough.” Ivar snarled, tugging her closer into his side, as her quivering began anew. Whether it was those memories or fear that caused her bodily reaction, he refused to let his father bully her into an answer. He had promised to protect her…even if it was from his father's interrogation. 

Icy blue eyes shifted from his youngest to the trembling, young woman in his arms before nodding and rising back to his feet. “I'll be back.” He swept out of the small room, the curtain fluttering closed behind him. 

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, just before pressing a hand to her mouth and releasing a shaky sob. 

Ivar held her close, sheltering her from her own turbulent emotions, as she tucked her face against him. Careful not to disturb her more, he wiped away the residue of tears from his cheeks with his right hand, mindful of his cast. 

At the feeling of being watched, he met his brother's eyes from across the small closet of a curtained room. His favorite brother had always been an open book, easy to read his emotions. Even now, the relief and concern for Kari was evident in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded slowly and deliberately toward the woman in his arms. Ivar nodded in reply. A silent conversation but Ivar knew what it meant. 

Whatever you need. I'll be there. 

Several minutes later, when Kari's quiet sobs transitioned to sniffles, a nurse arrived with a clipboard and release papers. She nervously asked the two men in the room to step outside so she could ask Kari some questions privately. Ivar's hackles immediately rose, a scathing retort on his tongue ready to unleash on the nurse but a squeeze of his hand made the words fade away. 

“I'm okay.” Those blue-green eyes held his, even though red rimmed and watery, he still thought they were one of his most favorite sights. “It'll only be a minute.”

“I'll be just on the other side of the curtain.” He promised, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Call out if you need me, kattungen.”

The subtle blush that arose on her cheeks drew a wicked smile to his lips. Before he could swoop in and kiss her, making them both forget the outside world, Kari lightly pushed on his chest. 

“Go.”

“As my priestess commands.”

Her quiet laughter followed him out of the room, lightening his darkened heart like an eternal candle. Hvitserk closed the curtain behind them, taking up a position mirroring his own, standing guard in front of the room. 

Other patients and nurses moved about the long hallway, some staring at the two brothers, but they were mostly ignored, the chaos and mayhem of the emergency room taking precedence.  

Ivar closed his eyes, rubbing a hand along his forehead to try and encourage the brewing headache to fuck off. 

“How are you holding up?”

He did not even open his eyes as he heard his brother's question. The exhaustion he had been fighting, dulled by the adrenaline from the phone call and finding Kari, now hit him like a semi truck. At this rate, it was debatable if he would actually be able to fall asleep or his body would crash into a coma, forcing him to rest. He just needed to get Kari to his house. If he could get the two of them there, then they could both rest and recover….and he could beg for her to never leave him again. 

He released a long sigh. “I need a cigarette.” 

“Want to step out? I'll stay with Kari.”

For a second, he considered it but ultimately shook his head. “I'm not leaving her.”

“What's your plan now? Sounds like you offered for her to stay with us.”

“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”

Hvitserk nudged him with his elbow. “You know it's not. Just…make sure that is what SHE wants.”

“I know.” Ivar ran his hand over his head. “I need her close by. After this…I need to know she's okay.”

“Well, with the way she wouldn't let you go, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Ivar chuckled quietly, warmth flooding his entire body at the reminder. He thought that perhaps she had forgiven him and they could move forward after this. Whatever that looked like, he would take. As long as she was by his side, he did not care what title it held. He just needed her. She was his morning sunrise, the stars in his night sky. Without her, his world was dark and filled with pain and anger. 

A new set of footsteps coming down the hallway had the brothers looking up. At the face that came into view, Ivar's fatigue drained away again. Fury pulsated like a second heartbeat in his chest, shooting its tendrils throughout his body like a living organism. 

Without a second thought, his feet moved. 

The nurse walking with the man seemed to take note of Ivar first and her face paled. She halted, eyes darting around as if searching for help, for someone to intervene. It was only then her patient took notice. 

But it was too late. It was time to pass the man's sentence and in this case, Ivar was judge, jury and executioner. 

He stormed up to the man, with rage a phantom above him and vengeance nipping at his heels. “You stay the fuck away from Kari. This is your fucking fault she's here!”

“No, the other driver–” Erik tried to defend himself but Ivar was beyond caring about excuses. 

Ivar shoved him. Hard.

Erik stumbled back and fell on his ass, unable to fully stop his fall with his right arm in the sling. A pained hiss slipped from his lips as his body jolted at hitting the floor. 

“Sir, you can't–” the nurse tried to step in but Ivar pointedly ignored her, his full attention at the man sprawled at his feet. 

“I don't give a fuck! You stay the fuck away from her!” 

He took a step back, his eyes, cold as stone, stared the man down as if daring him to say anything. He could see the scattering of cuts on Erik's face and body, most likely from the airbag, the arm sling, and the wrap around his knee. None of it phased the Lothbrok. He did not give a flying fuck about him or his injuries. Under Erik's watch, Kari had gotten hurt. Something that would NEVER happen again. 

Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Ivar turned to head back to his brother when he heard the resentful mutter behind his back. 

“Psycho asshole.”

He could feel the insult sink in and flow through every part of his body. His concern had been for Kari, with keeping her safe. But now, with that one utterance…the idiot had made this personal. 

Before Erik blinked, Ivar had whipped around and grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt. He hauled him up roughly to stare into his face. The youngest Lothbrok reveled in the shock and fear that coated the blond's face. People always forgot that he spent a good portion of his life crawling around when his legs were unusable due to surgeries or pain, which built up his upper body strength. Even now, he still enjoyed working out his upper body, being as strong as possible, proving he was more than his useless legs. 

“You want to say that to my face, you little fucker?” He sneered. “Huh?”

“IVAR!”

At the shout of his name, he looked over his shoulder. Hvitserk stood beside Kari, the latter with a hand over her mouth and beseeching eyes wide. A few paces in front of them stood his father, the one who called his name, poised ready to intervene and yank his son away. 

Without remorse, Ivar roughly let go of Erik. “Stay away from her, or I won't be so nice next time.” With the threat looming above them, he turned and headed back to his family…

…Back to his kitten and hopefully away from this fucking awful place. 

“Kari, you don't have to go with him!” 

Ivar froze. Again. 

“I–I can drive you home. I'll be discharged soon if you'll just…wait.”

The entire hall waited with baited breath. Only the sounds of the machines beeping could be heard. 

Yet his whole world had narrowed down to Kari. His eyes zeroed in on her, waiting, watching, for a sign, a subtle hint, instruction on what to do next. Did he go to her? Or was she terrified of him once again? Should he turn around and rip that little fucker's spine out of his body? As these questions whirled about like a chaotic storm, his feet remained firmly planted. 

Until her. 

Like a sunbeam breaking through the darkest storm, that was his Kari. 

His light. His life. 

With his name on her lips but no sound uttered, she held out her hand for him. Those stunning eyes focused on him, calling, summoning, drawing him in. 

And like a moth to the flame, he followed. But instead of death being at the source of light for him, there was the brightest joy and affection, belonging and loyalty. 

He reached out, taking her hand as he got closer and drew her back to his side. He planted a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Let's go home, kattungen.” 

Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik. 

They followed Hvitserk and Ragnar out to Ivar's car. Ragnar drove with his son in the passenger seat, and Ivar and Kari in the back. Kari was still tucked in his side, head on his shoulder and holding hands. 

As the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her body began to subtly shake. Ivar tugged her onto his lap and began softly speaking, trying to soothe her in his native tongue. Like a child, she tucked her face into his neck as if to hide from the world. Her hand gripped his with a death grip, but he paid no mind, encouraging and comforting however he could. 

About halfway through the drive, Kari finally spoke, her trembling having subsided. “Why do you have a cast?” 

He glanced down at the damn thing laying across her thighs. “Broke my hand.”

“How?”

“Boxing.”

“Hmmm…did you win?” 

He snorted, glancing at her, meeting her face with a small smile. “I always win.”

“Uh huh. Sure you do.” She rasped out, her voice sounding a little stronger but still rough. 

“Are you teasing me right now?”

She mock-gasped. “No one would dare tease you.”

He squeezed the top of her knee, making her squirm and squeak. “And you remember that.”

The conversation died out; silence reigned for a while. Ivar rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand as he rested his head on top of hers with eyes closed. Exhaustion crept back in once again, tugging his eyelids shut and numbing his mind. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, with Kari joining him, and lock his bedroom door so no one could bother them for at least three days. Maybe a week. 

“Oh no!” Kari gasped, abruptly sitting upright. 

Her sudden startle, sent a shockwave through him. He bolted upright, mind racing. “What?”

“All my groceries. They were in the back of Erik's car. I don't– I don't have money to buy more.”

He chuckled, tugging her back to lean against him. He could not believe she would panic over such a small thing. “Don't worry about it. I've got it.” 

“But, that's not–”

“Kari,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I'll take care of it. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She answered correctly but he could see - could sense - her hesitation, that wavering confidence. Something he needed to alleviate.

He released her chin to tenderly caress her cheek before guiding her forehead to press against his. “I'll take care of you.” He repeated, hoping his words would sink into her mind and plant there, for he meant every one. “Whatever you need. Groceries. New clothes. A car. I'll get it, you just tell me. Okay?” 

“You don't have to. It's not–”

“I want to.” He interrupted. “I want to take care of you. Don't you understand. I…I failed you but that won't happen again. Please, kitten. Please, just let me do this.” 

Time paused as he waited for her reply, for her agreement, for a sign. Anything! Forehead still pressed to his, she slowly breathed. Panic might have crept in to discourage him if he had not been able to feel her hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She was still so relaxed, so trusting, in his lap. He knew all he had to do was wait.

And so he waited for her. 

Like he promised he would. 

Finally, she quietly sighed out her response before slipping back against his chest and cuddling close. “Thank you, Ivar.”

A wave of gratitude and affection filled his soul. A dopey grin on his face, he tugged her closer and laid his head back on hers. 

“Anything for you, Kari.”

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

[pastelfates]

Talk about some of your favorite experiences on this website if you feel comfortable doing so! I'm meaning favorite threads, partners, muse experiences, etc. You've gone through a lot of hardship across multiple blogs yet you never give up and you keep doing what you love so I figured it'd be nice to talk about the positive stuff that helps you to keep going despite all the trouble.

◌・❀➵ Okie so this is gonna be long post so everyone grab a drink n some snacks! I just wanna start with that if it wasn't for my mutuals I have no idea where I'd be, ya'll have been with me through so much and some of the hardest times of my life and I can't thank everyone who has stayed enough.

◌・❀➵ FAVORITE THREADS/INTERACTIONS

➵ @morifactory ➵ Eddie and Serina meeting! Also the Riba and Serina and Riba ikea thread/ All our Carbon and Serina threads hav a place in my heart. And Talia w the blond bois! Also so far Kiki and Esmee has my heart. And ya know our first scarvi ocs and our stardew ocs. Me and Lena hav a lot of connected ocs

➵ I'm gonna count this as a thread bc it was a thread of asks but Mana once had multiple sections of the bee movie sent to her and it was absolutely hilarious. Committed to the bit with the url /frankiebeestan at that time.

➵ @constellationcrowned / @malusrecord ➵ LISTEN I care so much for Nellie, Mell, and Sunny's lil friendship (i hav a half typed starter for them in drafts shh), and Mana and Kariom's friendship is very special to me bc sobs Mana feels v comfy around him which means a lot bc she rarely fills comfy around ppl.

➵ @ervaurem ➵ Listen the family stuff with Law and the sisters is my weakness. It's been since 2021 that the fam has existed and I heccin cri. The treasure hunt thread has my heart,,

➵ This one is fairly recent but with @riftdancer, @ofstarsandskies, and @mathcs the whole Jude is evil arc has been so much fun so far!

➵ This was more so on discord but the relations have made their way to tungle but @pyonpyonpyon, @forgottenluck, @talesofourworlds, @mathcs, and @broadswordandpistol the sad boi drinking hours,, it was so cursed and sad at the same time, and it was such a highlight to me.

➵ @strebcr ➵ Can I say all of them? Just Streber and Mana have had so many good threads! Mana loves her new frog and just aaa

➵ @maligncntchain ➵ again with just recent threads but the two were cute and just silly gremlin uses the power of treats to not be immediately under the control of pecharunt was v funny to me

➵ @archivisim ➵ Sobs special place for the lil series of thread/asks we had just recently. Their similarities really just came through and they are hopefully gonna be more comfortable around each other!!

➵ @hxroic-wxlls ➵ cris it was like forever ago but the thread with Sunny and Luigi was so wholesome and I want you to know Sunny thinks Luigi is v cool. Also Mana and Simon has a v somft relationship i adore. the lil drill necklace he gave her for her birthday is one of her prized possessions.

➵ I know I posted a lot of newer stuff so I'm gonna bring up a thread from like ages ago?? 2018-2019 to be exact, the days I wrote non-seriously. I had a thread with two people over a skit in a game and it was just peak. Also that blog is still around (not deleted) so anytime I wish I can see the silly threads that bring me so much joy.

➵ Again on older threads, and while this one isn't on tumblr it is canon to Mana history. She has unapologetically set a bakery on fire with no remorse. That event also had like the first actual set appearance of REGRET and her lil maze which honestly makes me v happy bc REGRET is one of my all time favorite ocs. And Symonne's maze was there too, really care for that Ivar and Sync interaction in the rpg horror house w the fake Jude and stuff

➵ FAVORITE PARTNERS / People I adore seeing on dash

@ad-simul , @archivisim, @broadswordandpistol, @opscurus / @cpirits , @canidgrit, @castelias-comeups, @constellationcrowned / @malusrecord, @electricea, @ervaurem, @forgottenluck, @historias-multorum , @hxroic-wxlls, @kaizokugaris, @lightfallls , @maligncntchain , @morifactory , @nobuverse, @ofstarsandskies, @pinklocksoflove, @riftdancer, @talesofourworlds / @outofthisgxlaxy, @soulsbetrayed,

➵ I love seeing you all on dash, your threads are all peak and I just wanna say tysm for being moots with me and allowing me the opportunity to be a part of the stories you unfold for your characters. I am forever thankful to you all for everything and to the all of you have stayed with me despite how awful things have gotten, thank you for never giving up on me and seeing something in me when even I wasn't able to. You all are the reason I'm still here, continuing this hobby I love to my core. I hope I can be around for many more years to come and that I will continue to have you all by my side.

[christian-oc-tournament]

Ragunoe propaganda!

(I do not remember what I wrote at all for his description, so please bear with me if I repeat things)

Ragunoe is incredibly socially awkward! Which makes explaining why he was talking to thin air...difficult.

Ragunoe is the chosen one, his sword is know as Ivar's Blade by those who are inspired by the tails of good, and Ulrik's Bane, by its enemies, or Sigurd, since the sword is sentient. The groan creature in this picture is Sigurd, he has the body of a monkey but his head is a rabbit's. When the sword is summoned then Sigurd becomes ghostly, and only Ragunoe can see, hear or touch him. Which makes things awkward.

Despite how "bad" he is at being the chosen one (he thinks he isn't worthy) he has the heart of a hero and would lay down his life to protect those he loves.

Ragunoe is the protagonist of his story, Christopher (an evil ghost teen) is the villain, Ragunoe and his ragtag band of heroes need to stor Christopher before he drains the universe in order to resurrect himself. They hop around through dimensions (using Sigurd) sealing the cracks that suck the worlds dry that Christopher has made.

Christopher possess Ragunoe at one point too! Ragunoe ends up accidentally inhabiting the body of an old man in a 1920s inspired world.

.

[thyshadowwriter]

Ragnarssons with a male s/o

A/n: Today in headcanons nobody asked me lol

Ubbe:

Has a preference for feminine looking men.

Does like a man that can put on a fight and likes even more to overpower them.

Is going for the warrior couple thing.

He is at times insensitive and patronizing, so his s/o needs to be able to deal with his own things.

Ivar:

His preference relies a lot on how he is treated, not so much on specific traits.

Is very much into if he is a warrior.

Is still as jealous and possessive as they come.

Likes to watch his s/o walk. Might want him to do it naked in private.

Bjorn:

Listen, if someone is alive and pretty, there’s a 50/50 chance Bjorn would bed them.

Does not have a clear preference. Younger or older than him, softer or fit body, shorter or taller (has to make an effort to find someone taller lol). If he finds the man attractive, he’s up for it.

He is a dominant man, but is up for some play just for the kink.

Does not change his flirty behavior based on his partner’s sex. He still has a problem with keeping it in his pants.

Hvitserk:

Would prefer one a bit older than him.

He goes back and forth a lot before making a decision, so would enjoy having someone with a more assertive nature.

He’s up for anything in bed.

If his man is also a warrior, he is surprisingly worried. Hvitserk doesn’t have a lot of luck.

Sigurd:

Prefers a man in his height and age range.

Likes a symmetrical beauty.

Doesn't really care if he is or not a warrior. But if he’s an artist or traveler, that catches his attention.

Is more of a romantic himself, so he likes to have that appreciated.

[anystalker707]

Red marks against pale skin

Pairing: Party Poison x [gender neutral] Reader Word count: ~ 2 100 Genre: Smut / Comfort Summary: Party Poison's chest is really sensitive. It wouldn't hurt to see how far it goes, right? Kind of content: Nipple play / Oral fixation A/N: upcycled fic. i'm aware of how similar it is to my ivar one.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” You sighed as your hands ran across their warm back, feeling every muscle and the bump of every scar under your fingertips. You didn’t memorize their back only because you’d done this many times before, but also because their skin was practically yours, as a possession. You’d know if there was any new scar, as small as it could be.

Poison scoffed, their back vibrating with each word. “And what do you want me to do? Simply not go anywhere? Just sit here like your little doll, is it?” Of course they would be dramatic, twist your words just so you could feel guilty and let them do whatever they wanted, but you already had a resistance to their whining just like Kobra and Jet, even if it wasn’t as strong—sometimes you’d spoil them a little bit, why not? Dealing with Poison wasn’t any new to you; you were there before the Fabulous Four had its current formation, then with them when the BLI started getting on their trail, and now defending the desert.

The light from the table lamp beside the bed illuminated the room dimly. In the first days of your stay at the diner, you would just hang around the room and leave to sleep on the couch, but with how they kept asking you to help them with plans or talking until late at night, now it was also yours.

Today was something like this. A long day of unnecessary efforts had Poison’s muscles protesting in pain—specifically one around their shoulder blade due to the awkward position to paint Trans AM—, so you were there once again, your hands rubbing oil against their rough skin in an attempt to help them despite all the complaints. They did appreciate what you were doing, though. You knew it was some sort of facade because, even between four walls and a closed door, Poison still had to keep their goddamn posture at least in a few points to ‘keep you humble’ because they didn’t need another Jet-Star. As if you couldn’t shape them exactly the way you wanted, just like Jet would do with Ghoul sometimes. Stupid.

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” you chuckled against their skin and pressed a kiss to the back of their ear. “My pretty little doll, all for me to use, hm?”

Poison was silent for a moment before they were slowly turning around to shoot you the most deadly glare. “What do you think you’re saying? You’re turning into a bait for the next action if you keep it like this!”

Another chuckle escaped your lips as you pushed them to face forward again. “And what?” You pulled them against you so their back met your chest instead. “Risk losing one of your best chances against BLI? Best strategist? Plus, I don’t think you could handle even a day without me, knowing I’m not coming back,” you mumbled, chin over their shoulder and arms under theirs whilst watching your hands work against their ribs, slowly going up.

Whatever was going on in Poison’s mind, vanished at the moment your hands started running over their chest. Instead, there were only quiet and incoherent grumbles that you could barely make out. “(K/n), what...” Their words trailed off, breath caught in their throat—they tried to fight against the will to arch their back at the feeling of your fingers tracing their nipples, running around them until they were hard. "Wh..."

"I'm just doing the massage you asked for," you scoffed, hands going down their torso just to come up and stop right under their pecs, proceeding to go up slowly. Poison hissed at the friction as they arched their back; their hands tugged a little on the sheets before finding their way to your thighs, hence their nails sank into the skin messily in an attempt to both ground themself and warn you. Fruitlessly, of course. "How was your day, Poison? You just mentioned why you're in so much pain, but never really told me what happened when I was gone."

“Stop teasing!”

“I asked you a question.” The weight in your voice had them shutting up for a moment, though the silence was quickly broken by a moan. Your fingers pinched their nipple, and it shouldn’t feel so good.

Poison sucked in a breath, at first just spitting out stutters until the way you squeezed their pec had them speaking. “I—I was painting the Trans AM. Had to be in a— in a weird position for a long time, y’know. Reaching an arm out and... Yeah.”

Painting? You clicked your tongue. “Yeah, of course. It wouldn’t be you if you weren’t around painting in the weirdest way ever.” It was entertaining to watch how sensitive they were, slowly starting to squirm just because of their chest being fondled with.

An indignant gasp came from Poison, but they paused for a moment; their head leaned back against your shoulder for a moment while their hand adjusted against your thigh. “No...! You know I need the right position to keep my... hand firm!” Their voice cracked once you pinched their nipple, playing with it between your index finger and your thumb, daring to give it an experimental tug. A louder gasp escaped their lips, back arched against you.

“Of course, but you? I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw you painting all upside down,” you mumbled, continuing to pinch their nipple, though now also doing the same to the other, and it was enough to start reducing them to pieces—the already uneven breathing lost its pace completely while their fingers tried to grip onto your skin however they could, almost having them throw their hips in the air in search for friction.

“Don’t act like you don’t understand!” Poison growled. “The creative... process, y’know...” They never finished the sentence, words lost into the dark corners of the room once you let go of them so you could get off the position. “Hey! What are you doing?” The hazel irises were nothing but thin rings around the dilated pupils that observed you in desire.

Your chuckle had their eyebrows lowering, mouth pursing. “I thought you didn’t like it?” You raised an eyebrow, moving around until you straddled their thighs, pushing them back against the pillows. Whatever answer they had on the tip of their tongue, it died down with the way you parted their legs with a knee, instead earning yourself a glare, but it would take a lot more to discourage you. Their hips were warm under your hands as you held onto them while leaning down to press kisses to their neck, sometimes nibbling on the soft skin. “You complain so much, sometimes I don’t know whether it’s real or not. How do you feel being so annoying?” 

“I think that you should shut the fuck up before getting yourself in trouble.” Empty words, of course. Poison liked the teasing, if anything. In contrast to their words, their arms wrapped around your shoulders at the same time they threw their head back into the pillows to grant you more access.

You breathed a chuckle against their skin, feeling it rise with a shiver according to how you trailed down. “Oh, honey, you still insist on tricking yourself that you can live without me? Pitiful.”

It was fun to tease Poison then silence them, watch the frustration build up in groans and quiet complaints, their nails sometimes pressing into your skin a little too hard. They were once again silenced, letting out a hum instead at how your lips worked on a spot some inches down their collarbones, sucking and nibbling on the skin until a purple spot was left behind. You knew they had some sort of sensitivity when it came to their chest, but you never knew it was that great until you decided to start exploring it that night; it probably was greater that time, given how long they had gone without being touched like that.

The way they shuddered and breathed shakily just because of how your tongue ran flat over their nipple was truly rewarding. You did it once more, this time snatching a moan that extended itself by how their crotch found a nice source of friction when meeting your thigh on the way once it pushed up. Your grip on their hips didn’t really prevent them from moving, more of guiding their movements and limiting their freedom.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you came untouched,” you mention. You could taste the light herbal taste of the oil on your tongue—it wasn’t bad, actually.

Poison clicked their tongue, glancing down at you with a glare that would’ve made anyone else who didn’t know them enough start praying for their life but not you. Never you. That look didn’t give you anything more than entertainment. “Are you stupid? Do you want me to kill you?”

“To kill you would be fun, actually.” A grin tugged on your lips, easily having Ivar more flustered. They weren’t in position to criticize anything anymore, nor had enough coherent thoughts for it; they just turned their head away instead.

At first, soft kisses surrounded their nipple, soon being replaced by your teeth softly tugging on the skin, and there it was—whines spilled from their mouth with every nib until they clasped a hand over their own mouth in an attempt to muffle their sounds. It had you pausing, taking a moment to observe their messy form. Sweat had some of their bright red hair strands stuck to their forehead, skin already flush and glistening softly under the dancing light of the flames. Their chest heaved up and down with the deep sharp inhales.

The lack of interaction had Poison’s eyes slowly turning to look at you, and that fucking deadly gaze had something stirring in your lower stomach.

“I wanna hear you,” you finally said, pressing a kiss to their fingers before you started to tug their hand away from their face, finally kissing their lips instead. Their hands somehow felt in the way of something, something they didn’t know, but it still didn’t really feel right to just grip onto the sheets while you worked on them. They whined softly against your lips, kissing back with little care because all that mattered was how good you treated them, nibbling on their lips and letting your tongue meet theirs.

Their back started arching again once you started trailing down their neck once again, this time starting to nibble on the area around their nipple right away, this time working on the opposite one, with your hands back around their hips, tightly. “Fuck,” they whispered softly, voice tight in their throat, soon replaced by a moan. Your lips wrapped around their nipple to suck softly on it until they were arching their back and fighting against your hands, so you’d change to running your tongue flat against the nub instead.

It was slow and agonizing. Every single time the feeling would start to take over Poison, erase the thoughts away from their head and have their eyes rolling back, you were there to pull them down, ground them again. Poison crashed back into reality with quiet complaints and groans that only motivated you to continue, even if your lips would be left sore later. Then, there it was, finally. This time, you weren’t pulling away at the moment their hips started pushing up; you continued to suck on their nipple, even letting your teeth tug on it, and they weren’t even that restrained anymore, with one of your hands letting go of them to instead fondle with the opposite side of their chest.

A string of curses escaped Poison’s lips, though soon interrupted by the lack of air in their lungs, their teeth gritted and eyes pressed shut. Their hips dragged slowly against your thigh, sending sparkles up their body and down again, right to their lower stomach. Their shorter breaths had each time more space between them, as if just breathing would drive their focus away from their release, but then, there it was; a long moan was drawn from their lips at the same moment they finally came. As much as you wanted to see the face they were making, it seemed more of an advantage to continue messing with then until they were squirming, on the edge of oversensitivity.

You pressed a kiss to the bright red skin before you finally brought yourself up to look at them. They had their eyes shut, mouth moving lightly in inaudible mumbles to themself until they opened one eye lazily to observe you.

“You good, love?”

Poison nodded lightly. “Do you need me to...?”

“No, no.” You shook your head and pressed a kiss to their cheek. “Hell, Poison” you chuckled, “look at you. Came untouched, in your pants!” And just a few words had the haze that took over them fading away, replaced by their usual annoyance, curses that escaped their lips seemingly unstoppingly.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Please could I request Ivar with the prompt "I can't take you anywhere."

In any category. I love them all ♡

Drabble Masterlist

Possessive

Contains: Possessive Ivar, fluff.

151 Words

Comment if you want to be tagged/removed

Ivar doesn't like it when other people want you.

"Ivar stop glaring."

He ignored you, "Ivar, we need to make friends not make everyone think you hate them."

He huffed, "he won't stop looking at you."

You shook your head, "that not my problem and it's not yours, stop worrying." Ivar sipped on his hot meed, it was snowing outside and you were pressed into him in hopes of keeping warm.

You kissed his neck in an effort to pull his attention away, "Ivar, I'm here with you, can you have a conversation with me instead of staring at a man who just said hello."

Ivar turned to you with a smile, pushing your body further into his, "you're right, you're here with me and he's all alone."

Ivar kissed you, slow and deep then you saw his eyes drift back over to the man, "I can't take you anywhere."

Ivar huffed, "I'm just making sure everyone knows you're mine."

Fin