#thereturnofthevikingdaughter

[kenzieam]

The Return of the Viking Daughter - Chapter 5 (Ivar X OC)

Rating: M - Mature (angst, swearing, violence, eventual domestic violence, eventual attempted assault, eventual smut)

Genre: Drama, angst

@fuckyeahalexhoghandersen @my-emotional-self @bloodyivar @lupy22 @alex-ivar-minx @heathensisterwives @kduran04 @charliexowrite @angryschnauzer @rachiieee @ivarinleatherpants @ivars-heathen-army @neonxwitch @theheathenqueendickubus @dangerousvikings @zpandaqueen @irishhiggins @romanchronicles @didiintheblog  @mercy1997 @kawennote09  @iammarylastar @sparklemichele @son-of-anubis  @beltzboys2015-blog @paranoia-love  @captstefanbrandt  @ivars-valkyrie @fullpeanutkoala @ruler-of-hel @poopercoot @magical-mischief-makers

@angelswannawearmyredshooz @kc-7

*If you want to added or delete to the above list, let me know*

Holy shit everybody! Thank you so much for the support!!   

MY 2OOOth POST!!!!

****************************************************************************************************

I climbed in behind the wheel and looked over at Ivar, relieved to see he seemed to have little trouble getting into the passenger seat.  Turning to face me he carefully tucked his crutch into the back seat then faced forwards again, looking a little nervous as he pulled his seat belt on. I started the car, finding myself dazzled again, like a little kid, at all the little lights and doodads that flashed at me. I heard Ivar chuckle quietly beside me and I glanced over to see him smiling at me.

“What?”

Ivar shook his head, still chuckling and turned his gaze forward again.

I’d requested a standard, for reasons I couldn’t remember now, and had been quite capable with it on the way here yesterday, but with Ivar beside me I suddenly couldn’t do anything right and winced as I managed to make the little SUV jump roughly, protesting my shoddy clutch-work. After Ivar’s neck snapped forward another two times he finally burst out laughing and looked over at me.

“Where the hell did you ever learn to drive?”

“If I remember correctly, you, Ubbe and Hvitserk took me out in Ubbe’s old Trans-Am and taught me!”

Ivar laughed harder, obviously remembering that fiasco. I’d spent the next whole weekend helping Ubbe replace his clutch, and Ragnar had finally taken me out in his trusty old Lincoln, a land yacht if there ever was one, and managed to teach me the basics. The brief looks of terror on the old viking’s face had been worth their weight in gold as I’d careened around the empty parking lot, narrowly avoiding lampposts and curbs.

His patience and gentle instruction had paid off, however, and I’d been on my way to becoming a excellent driver when I’d been uprooted and replanted in Switzerland, my only driving opportunities at the full-time boarding school being during the brief summer vacations back in California. Once I hit Oxford however, I’d had no time or opportunity for driving, riding the tube or taking a cab where I needed to go. Shit, I was hella skilled on a Vespa, but my driving practice was weak.

“Go easy on the clutch there Red, okay, shift and let the clutch out slowly, yeah... give it some gas.” Ivar instructed, and I shot him a brief dirty look as I nonetheless followed his directions. He flashed me a smug smile as the vehicle shifted smoothly and began zipping merrily down the road.

“Are you hungry too? Where did you want to eat?”

Ivar looked out the side window a moment before answering. “What about Henry’s?”

I jolted slightly, surprised that Ivar remembered... of course he’d remembered. In the last few years of my life here, we’d always gotten our driver, whoever it might be, to take us to Henry’s Diner before dropping us off at school. We’d been regulars there, stopping many days after school too; Henry’s wife Fanny, an old diner battleaxe if there was one, always doted on us, treating us like her own grand-kids while terrorizing half the other customers. I’d always imagined, if I’d stayed here, that Ivar and I would have most likely nursed our hangovers there, or stopped there after whatever party we’d been to, ordering breakfast because it was the next morning, and we’d not yet sobered up. Henry’s wife was used to that, had served breakfast to every male Lothbrok at 4 or 5 am at one point or another. In truth I hadn’t eaten such good food as Henry’s since I’d left, even the Michelin-starred chef at the boarding school hadn’t compared.

“Sure,” I agreed, turning down a familiar lane.

The look on old Fanny’s face was absolutely priceless when Ivar and I stepped inside and she stumbled back for a moment, clutching her chest. I hoped we hadn’t given her a cardiac and glanced worriedly at Ivar, who looked similarly anxious. She recovered however and enveloped me in a tight hug that smelled of bacon and coffee, cackling delightedly.

“Sera! It’s been years! My dear, it’s good to see you!” She pulled away, only to pull me back for a wet kiss on the cheek that touched me to an almost absurd level. Her voice dropped and she spoke again. “I’m sorry to hear about your father, did you ever get to see him before he passed? I know your mother hauled you out of town like a shot that night, we never heard from you again.”

Fanny’s statement hit me in the guilts and I swallowed hard. “No, I didn’t get to see him-”

“Oh well, don’t listen to an old lady, I just get to babbling.... and you!” She turned suddenly to Ivar, pointing a bony finger at him, brandishing it like a knife. “You didn’t leave town, why did you never darken my door again?”

I looked over at Ivar in shock, he’d never been back, not after I’d left? Why?

Faint circles of red stood out on Ivar’s cheeks and he looked uncomfortable, glancing at me before looking back down at Fanny, who owned every goddamn inch of her 5 feet and had brought down taller men than Ivar before.

“It uh.... just never felt right,” he finally mumbled, looking down at his feet, the counter, anywhere but at the two women staring at him.

Fanny flapped her hands at him, “oh, you Lothbrok’s... go sit down, your old booth is still there.” She bustled away and Ivar turned towards the table. I followed after a pause.

Sitting down was like coming home again, the diner hadn’t changed a bit in eight years, it didn’t even look like the selection of pies under the glass domes on the countertop had been refreshed. Fanny appeared again like magic, clutching two sweaty water glasses and two menus, but we didn’t need them. We’d always ordered the same, Fanny either didn’t remember or hoped our tastes had matured.

“Buttermilk French Toast, please Fanny,” I smiled and Ivar nodded across from me.

“You want them stuffed?” Fanny asked. Although not an official menu item, Fanny had always indulged us and stuffed our toast with homemade cherry pie filling (Ivar) and apple (me).

“Please.” Ivar answered for us this time.

“Hash browns?”

“Yep,” I replied. The hash browns were real potatoes here, cubed (barf) for Ivar and shredded for me.

Fanny bustled away, looking wildly satisfied and I turned to Ivar.

“You never came back. Ivar, why?”

He shrugged, not ready to answer. I waited, one eyebrow raised and he finally relented.

“Why? You were gone, who else was there?”

I faltered, deciding to drop it. It was too damn early, and I was too damn hungry to deal with that now.

We made semi-awkward small talk until Fanny reappeared, and then for a few minutes we were too busy swooning over our old favourites. I hadn’t eaten such wonderful greasy fare in years and my palette shrieked in delight until I shut it up with more French toast.

I was just pushing my plate away, groaning when Fanny arrived at the table, she’d been scolding some regulars at the counter while we’d been eating but had appeared again like magic just as we finished.

She reached out and grabbed my left hand, staring pointedly at it before raising her sharp gaze to Ivar. “Well, where’s the ring?”

Ivar and I impersonated a pair of fish for a few moments, opening and closing our mouths trying to formulate a response before Ivar managed to stammer a ‘what?’

Fanny huffed. “Oh please, you dragged your long face around town for months after Sera’s momma stole her away. You two always looked so good together, you complete each other. You don’t always get a second chance son, don’t waste it now.”

Fanny’s attention was mercifully stolen away right then by the sounds of breaking glass and she whirled and stormed away, ready to raise hell with whichever poor bastard that managed to drop his cup.

Avoiding each other’s eyes Ivar and I both stood and he threw some bills on the table. We managed to exit the diner before Fanny was done laying into the chastised man at the counter, his head lowered in humbled sorrow.

This certainly wasn’t an alley of conversation I was ready for, not now, maybe not ever, and I was willing to never talk about it again, but Ivar seemed to have other ideas. We’d just climbed in the car and shut the doors when Ivar decided to speak.

“Sera, I-”

“Don’t Ivar, not right now.” My hands shook slightly as I gripped the steering wheel.

“No Sera-”

“Ivar!” I slammed my hands on the wheel. My heart was pounding and I had to take a few deep breaths. “I just-” I turned to him then, ready to ask for him to just drop it, to just not say what he was about to say because goddammit I was just barely holding it together right now, but I didn’t get the chance.

Ivar had turned and was leaning towards me. I barely had time to register the tortured look in his eye before he closed the remaining distance and pressed his lips to mine. An almost painful jolt shot through me, Ivar’s lips were unbelievably soft and his hand curled against the back of my head, into my hair, pulling me hard against his mouth. He started out gentle, but deepened it rapidly, pressing his tongue at my lips for entrance, his low groan answering my shuddering moan as I opened my mouth for him and felt him press inside. I’d never felt like this before, never been kissed like this before and my heart raced, my body ignitied with desire.

We just fit together, our lips moving together with delicious tenderness, just the right amount of heated friction. Shit, the man knew how to kiss, and my body responded like it never had before. His skin was soft as I cupped his cheek, and we explored each other’s mouths with an edge of desperation, hunger born of years of want and waiting. I pulled away finally as my head began to spin from oxygen loss and Ivar rested his forehead to mine as we panted together, trying to collect ourselves. His eyes were closed but then he raised them to meet mine and I saw they were black with desire, the pupils blown wide. Still breathing hard he pulled his hand from the back of my head to my chin and brushed his thumb along my bottom lip.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

[kenzieam]

Ivar and Lemmy 😂😂