#@fireismysaftey

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The Alliance

Summary: Princess (Y/N)'s hunt has finally come, and Ivar has more than a country to explore.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

A/N: I know I haven't been uploading and I'm sorry, I've been working and this story in particular requires a LOT of research (like literally so much). That said please enjoy this chapter, remember if its bold that means it is spoken in the foreign language. This chapter does include a hunting scene so trigger warning if it applies.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Taglist:

The celebration of Princess (Y/N)’s homecoming was indeed an event that would be talked about in Tunisia for months, and the Norse travelers would never forget it. The beach, the dancing, the music, the food that was served was all breathtaking and bordering comfortably on the edge of overwhelming.

It was only when the feast was entirely eaten and the performers were physically unable to continue that everyone agreed to retreat to their own homes to rest.

Ivar found himself on the back of his father, he couldn’t fathom hauling his weight on his crutches after he had exhausted all his energy during the festivities. However; it seemed Ragnar had reserved just enough energy to help his youngest son to the palace.

He even carried Ivar’s crutches in his arms as Ivar clung to his back, and Ivar saw how his father’s grip on them left his knuckles pale white.

‘You do not like my crutches.’ he said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them as they lagged behind the royal party on the way back to the castle.

‘I do not like them.’ Ragnar confessed casually.

‘Why?’

‘You do not need them, Ivar; you move slower with them. I can tell it exhausts you and you break more bones by standing upright.’

‘I haven’t bro-’

‘You have.’ Ragnar interrupted the lie, his voice suddenly stern.

‘I am not your mother, I don’t need to see and hear you crying to know when you have pushed your body too far for its limitations. Every time I tried to hold you for the first year of your life I broke a bone in my rough handling.’

At his father’s confession Ivar was left speechless; how many times had his mother drunkenly rambled that as a babe Ivar cried whenever Ragnar picked him up? Of course Ivar had not known why he did this, he was too young, all he knew was his mother was telling the truth about it. Aslaug’s drunken complaining made up a large amount of Ivar’s childhood and sometimes her drunkenness made her dramatize the events but this was one of the few that never changed; Ragnar never spoke of it in front of him.

Not once in all his life.

‘Even the night I left you in the woods, it was your right ankle, it cracked as I tried to swaddle you. I hadn’t intended to leave you that night, I was just trying to hold you and I couldn’t do even that without hurting you.’ Ragnar continued.

‘You must not be used to the palm wine these Tunisians serve, mead has never made you drunk enough to tell me this before.’ Ivar tried weakly to joke.

He hadn’t been prepared to hear this, he had long ago come to accept that he would die without ever having had this conversation with his father.

‘I must not be.’ his father let out a humorless breath of laughter.

‘How do you know when I break a bone? Is it the blue in my eyes?’ Ivar asked.

‘No, son; it is not your eyes, it’s your nose.’

‘My nose?’

‘It scrunches up in a wince whenever a bone breaks, even as a baby before the cries could fall from your lips your nose would give you away. I also know because whenever I see you break a bone I feel it.’ his father confessed.

‘I feel the same sickness rise up in my throat, the same guilt. My guiltiness led me to abandon you, my guilt kept me from loving you. Guilt over how you were born, guilt that my impatience and disregard to your mother’s warning cost you your health.’

Ivar did not need any elaborations on what his father was referencing.

“His mother said he would be a monster.”

“Not even ten and already a killer.”

“There is something not human in him, I just know it.”

“She wasn’t even pregnant yet and she knew he’d be vile and twisted.”

“He even slithers around like the great serpent, he will bring Ragnarok to us all!”

Phrases like these were whispered around him all his life; his mother’s prophecy that if Ragnar had her too soon she would birth him a monster.

‘I do not blame you, or mother, I am not angry with you father. I never have been… I never could be. I-’ Ivar felt like he was physically choking on the words he was trying to say.

It was the first time he’d ever said them out loud before.

‘I love you Father, even if you broke my bones holding me I never wanted you to put me down.’ he said pressing his face into his father’s shoulder, and let Ragnar feel the tears soak into the fabric of his tunic.

‘You do not have to blame me, I will even allow you to be foolish enough to forgive me, but son, I will never forgive myself for the way I treated you. You and your brothers are one of the very few things that keep me in Midgard, and I do not deserve the love and respect you all show me. I have wronged you all, in unforgivable ways.’

‘I have never heard you admit to being wrong.’ Ivar said around the lump that had formed in his throat as he at last got a hold of his emotions.

‘Do not get used to it, it will never happen again and I will deny it if you tell any other living thing.’ his father said, his voice once again becoming lighthearted.

Their emotional conversation had ended, and he knew that neither he nor his father would ever mention it again. Not to each other or to anyone else.

Not even the Princess would hear of this, he would keep this moment selfishly to himself for the rest of his life.

A comfortable silence fell over the two men and lasted until they were finally in the palace, where Ragnar placed his son down and placed the crutches down, sending them a distasteful glance.

Ivar looked over at the others and saw that they were still raving over the festivities and their eagerness for sleep and he looked back to his father.

‘I know I do not need them, father, but I do want them. I want to stand tall among other men, I'm tired of looking up at those I know are beneath me.’ he whispered as he pulled himself up on his crutches.

‘I will not use them forever, I will improve them…and myself.’ he promised.

Ragnar sighed and placed a sudden, unexpected kiss on Ivar’s temple and whispered into his ear in confidence.

‘You will be a man to be feared one day, Ivar the Boneless. Your broken body will never be able to contain your mind and violence.’

With those last words Ragnar went back to the group and he along with Aslaug retired to their chambers.

His brothers and the Tunisians all quickly followed suit, and gave quick and polite goodbyes before going their own ways as well.

‘Let us also retire. I am absolutely exhausted.’ (Y/N) said and indeed she looked like her will alone was keeping her upright.

‘Yes, I’m sure that kind of dancing used up all your energy.’ Ivar agreed and soon they began their journey to their newly shared chamber.

‘I enjoyed dancing to your heart beat. It beats in alignment with my own.’ she remarked as they entered.

Inside they were met with their respective servants who must have brought in their things before joining the feast, as all their things were now properly in place in the chamber.

To Ivar’s surprise and delight the princess sent them both away.

Occasionally on the journey the princess would feel very affectionate and would like to undress Ivar herself; it was another thing he came to rely on while they shared space on the ship.

He would always eagerly offer to undress her in return, she would graciously accept and they would lie in each other’s arms as they slept through the night.

Tonight, however, she was more slow in removing his tunic than she usually did and he could tell by the distanced look in her eye as her hands moved that her mind was not truly in this moment.

‘I will not be at your side when you wake my love.’ she said as she discarded the clothing.

‘How long will your hunt last?’

‘As long as it takes, after the hunt is complete I will be taken to the Skinner's hut to fashion the cloak alone. Every three days a hunting party will be sent after me, if I were to forfeit, they would escort me back safely. In which case I will have failed, and we would not have the blessing of the Great and Many.’

‘Then we would not marry.’ Ivar concluded.

A pregnant silence set in over the two of them as they undressed and remained even as they lay in each other's arms.

‘Can I make a request for my cloak?’ Ivar said at last.

‘Of course.’

‘Something warm. I will want to wear it often and the weather back home is not as nice as this.’ he said with a smile.

He hoped she understood what he was saying between his words; prayed she understood that he had confidence she would succeed and they would marry.

Ivar only needed to meet her watering eyes to know she did understand him, and more than anything else she needed his confidence in her.

‘I’ve trained since the day Sven left with his party, and I am even bold enough to call myself a warrior, but I have never hunted alone.’ she confessed.

‘I had never known true combat until our Matrimonial Fight.’ Ivar returned.

He was surprised that she looked so surprised.

‘Are you trying to console me?’ the princess accused.

‘I am being truthful. Sure on occasion my brothers include me in a bit of roughhousing, or I may even initiate a scuffle but they are never actually aiming to overtake me. Our fights are never true.’ Ivar replied.

‘I knew when I fought with you there would be no holding back on your part, you fought me as an equal and you hit where it hurt.’

The princess’s accusing eyes softened before she hid her face in his chest.

‘I did apologize. ‘ she yawned sleepily.

‘Nothing to forgive, I loved it. I loved fighting you, watching how skilled you are, seeing that look in your eyes as you look for a new place to aim. And if you hunt as well as you fight I imagine I won’t be waiting a full week.’ Ivar encouraged.

Ivar whispered soft assurances and praises until he heard her soft snores, and even still he kept silently praising her, hoping that his Gods would hear his love for her and give her protection.

As he himself finally fell into slumber he even hoped the Great and Many would watch over her as well.

When Ivar woke up he had known (Y/N) wouldn’t be there, but he was still disappointed by her absence.

A small pebble was suddenly thrown into the room, noisily hitting the floor.

‘I am awake, Trya.’ Ivar sighed as he sat up to see his thrall entering the princess’s chamber holding a Tunisian shield.

‘My Prince, did you not sleep well? Should I call for the healers?’ the woman asked, the concern for his legs showing on her face.

‘My legs are no worse than I can handle, and my sleep was sound.’ he assured her as she began to dress him.

‘You have gotten used to her being there.’ Trya realized, but immediately she went red with embarrassment at her impulsive speaking.

‘I’m sorry Prince Ivar.’ she said quickly.

‘No need to apologize when you are right, if anything I should apologize in advance for my bad mood while she is away.’

‘If I may say, I think she will return sooner than you think and with a noble animal fur just for you. In the meantime there is a beautiful village to explore and such wonderful people to meet.’ Trya offered.

Ivar knew the old woman was simply trying to cheer him up, and she was even right; but he found little comfort in her words as he left the room on his crutches.

Just as he began to wonder where he should go without (Y/N) to guide him through the unfamiliar palace, one of her servants, Kya, rounded a corner and approached him.

‘Meal before.’ she mumbled in broken Norse.

‘We are in your homeland, no need to speak a foreign language for my sake.’ he said in perfect Derja.

The girl let out a sigh of relief and began speaking in her mother language.

‘It is time for first meal, I will take you to the great hall .’ she said, her tone very confident and proper in her own dialect, before leading him through the labyrinth of halls.

Ivar was led into a large room where both royal families were sitting on the floor in a circle, all of them eating some type of bread and dipping it into something steaming hot from their bowls.

‘Ivar you must try this porridge, their spices are so flavorful.’ Hvitserk said as Ivar lowered himself down as gracefully as he could.

‘I must agree, we will definitely be trading a great deal of spices in the near future.’ Ragnar agreed, his own bowl nearly empty before Ivar had even received his portion.

The flavor of the porridge was very strong and delicious, and the bread was more grainy than the bread back home.

‘It is delicious.’ Ivar complimented as he ate with a bit more vigor.

After all, he had a long journey on the ship and had drank far too much at the feast.

‘I’m sure if my future daughter in law were here she would be flattered.’ Aslaug said, surprising everyone.

‘(Y/N) made this meal?’ Ivar asked, truly questioning how his mother knew this.

His mother sat aside her now empty bowl and looked at him in earnest, as she always had. As if she hadn’t ignored him from the moment he decided to sail here.

‘I was unable to sleep through your father’s snoring so I had a servant show me around the palace. The princess was in the kitchens, helping the cooks as they prepared her rations and first meal. We had a talk.’ the Norse Queen answered.

Ivar sent a look to his brothers, who looked equally as stunned, even his father had wide eyes.

Every word she just said went against everything they knew about their mother. Aslaug was often so drunk she could sleep through the harshest winter storm, she despised watching thralls work, and in all their lives they had never seen her set foot in any kitchen.

It hadn’t been a convenient coincidence, Ivar was certain his mother had snuck out of bed in the wee hours to speak to (Y/N) privately before her departure.

However, if anyone was waiting on Aslaug to explain her conversation with the princess, they were disappointed when she went back to her wine in silence.

‘Well then, what will you all like to do today?’ King Akashi asked the Norse royals.

‘We would like to walk through your markets. Your daughter tells us it was her most important duty as a child. The concept is both foreign and intriguing to all of us, plus we are eager to see in person the beautiful kingdom that raised our new princess.’ Ragnar replied.

‘Excellent, I shall give them a tour.’ Prince Ayo beamed as he stood excitedly.

‘Sit down.’ the queen said in a quiet but stern tone, the kind that came only from mothers and queens; and considering that she was both, her tone was truly powerful.

The child prince sighed in his defeat and sat back down on the floor.

‘You are not old enough yet my son, and you are not far enough along in your studies to walk the village and converse with the people. Until then you will spend your day with your tutors.’ the king said, seeing the upset on his son’s face.

‘I will send a servant to escort you through the markets, she will meet you at the castle gate.’

‘If I may.’ Ivar spoke up, politely asking to speak directly to the royal family, something (Y/N) had informed him was considered extremely polite.

The queen looked at him with a raised eyebrow before nodding her approval.

‘As my father has said, we are all eager to see your markets and kingdom today, but may I join the young prince with his tutors tomorrow?’

Now the queen was downright studying him, her gaze alone making the cripple straighten up his posture.

‘You wish to study here?’ she asked.

‘I have a great thirst for knowledge, like our All Father Odin, who traded his eye for it. It seems I already traded my legs at birth.’Ivar smiled charmingly, making a humorous face at the prince, who let out a small breath of laughter.

The queen smiled, seemingly against her better judgment.

‘Yes you may join the lessons tomorrow, I will have Bintu accompany you both to the library together tomorrow. She seems to want to get acquainted with you better.’ Queen Aza agreed.

‘Are you close with Bintu as well?’ Sigurd asked.

‘Of course, I personally chose Bintu to protect my daughter. She was my closest friend as a girl, had I ever chosen to propose a Matrimonial Fight she would be my instructor.’

‘I must say, while there are so many fascinating customs in your country, the one that fascinates me the most is your approach to your inferiors.’ Aslaug confessed.

‘No no no. I have no inferiors, my Queen Sister. I am Queen and I am the highest authority, but there isn’t one subject in all my kingdom that is inferior to me. Do you know how most commoners address queens in this country?’ the Tunisian Queen questioned.

When none of the Norse answered she smiled to herself.

‘Queen Mother; that is how I am addressed by every single one of my subjects. Queen to show me their respect, and Mother to show their love. Of course now the title is more than fitting.’ she explained, rubbing the roundness of her belly.

‘I may not know you well, Queen Sister, but I feel that the title was well earned. For I have never seen so many happy commoners, and I have certainly never met a young woman more amazing than your daughter. Truly you are Queen Mother, if I may, I’d like to accompany you today. I have been a Queen almost as long as I have been a Mother, but I am not blind to my shortcomings. I would like to learn from you, Queen Aza.’ Aslaug requested, her eyes never leaving the other woman’s.

At this Ragnar had to cover his mouth to silence his own gasp; Ivar was happy they were already sitting on the floor, had they been in chairs he is certain his brothers would have all fallen out of them in shock.

Years and years, all their lives, they all sat watching their mother drink away her affections and love for anyone other than Ivar. They had stopped expecting her love before they had even gotten their armrings. They never in their wildest dreams thought she cared enough to notice their disappointment in her as a mother.

Ivar looked over at his brothers and surely enough each of them had different expressions of shock.

Ubbe looked as if he simply couldn’t process what he’d heard, Hvitserk had dropped the grainy bread into his nearly empty bowl, Sigurd was wide eyed and his face was becoming red.

‘I would love your company, Queen Aslaug. In fact, I am quite done with first meal. I will await you in the throne room. I will send for Kya to accompany the rest of you through the markets.’ Aza said before holding out her hand to her husband.

King Akashi, who had been silently eating the last of his own meal while observing his guest, set aside his empty bowl and helped the queen rise to her feet.

The Tunisians bid their farewells, instructed a servant girl to give them a tour of the markets and departed.

As soon as the retreating footsteps could no longer be heard all eyes fell on Queen Aslaug, who had met their eyes confidently.

‘Do not look so stunned, have you not all wished for a better mother? A better woman to sit beside your great father on the throne? As I have no intention of losing my status, I must improve; at least that is the advice I was given.’ she said in Norse.

‘Why did you seek her out? You have been spiteful to all of us since the fight; you ignored us all nearly completely since she suggested sailing here.’ Ubbe asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

The hint of accusation was still noticed by his mother.

‘I had no ill intention, my son, I only meant to see her before she left for her hunt. A servant led me to the kitchens and there she was gathering her rations, we spoke and she left.’

‘What did you say to her?’ Ivar asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

‘She spoke to me, and I saw what about her you love. She is intelligent, wise and almost annoyingly well spoken. Though she hasn’t seen one of your fits yet, Ivar, I’m sure she will be able to control even your rage.’

The princes all looked between each other, wondering if the others believed a word of this; even Ragnar had been studying his wife to see if there were any visible signs of deception.

‘Mother, she is going on a hunt, alone, I don’t even know what kind of animals they have here. I need you to tell me with conviction that you did not upset her before she left to do something so dangerous.’ he was pleading with his mother.

Aslaug stood from the floor and looked around at her family.

‘I do not know why I sought her out, I don’t know what I wanted to say to her. I know what she said to me. That she can see the weeds of hate growing in all of your eyes when you look my way. That your frowns deepen when I speak to you directly no matter what I say…and now I can see how right she was.’ Aslaug said with a truly hurt expression painting her face.

‘You think I would be so spiteful to try and sabotage her hunt Ivar? Even you? It seems I have been far worse a mother than I thought.’ she said, her voice beginning to shake as her eyes misted.

Before Ivar had a chance to let the guilt take hold of his heart fully his mother had turned and left the rest of them to their now unappealing bowls of porridge.

The room was quiet, everyone needed to digest more than the food; Aslaug’s words had left a bitter taste in their mouths.

‘Do you believe her?’ Hvitserk asked.

‘Of course not, she has been wretched since she birthed us, that doesn’t change after one talk.’ Sigurd dismissed with irritation.

‘She seemed upset, maybe she does regret the way she raised us.’ Ubbe said in her defense.

‘How could you think so, Ubbe? What raising did we get from her? It was while she was meant to be raising us that you and Hvitserk fell through ice and nearly died. In her “care” Bjorn lost his first daughter! The only time the truth comes out of her mouth is when she knows it will hurt.’ Sigurd spat angrily.

‘She is your mother, Sigurd. You owe her your life and respect.’ Ragnar said, a hint of a warning in his tone.

The circle was tense now, despite the fragility of their marriage Aslaug was still Ragnar’s wife and not many Viking men allow their wives to be insulted in their presence.

‘I had no say in who my mother was Father, did I? Even still you are right, I owe her respect…just as she owes us her love, but unfortunately for her I no longer want it.’ Sigurd replied just as stubborn as he had been as a child as he stood up.

‘I will wait at the gate for the escort.’ he said formally before leaving.

Ivar watched Sigurd in a mixture of annoyance and understanding, no one could deny that Sigurd had been the most hurt by Aslaug’s neglect growing up. He was always the one to interrupt their chess games to ask if they could have a walk all together, and he was always turned away.

‘I know your mother was…is a hard woman to understand and that it was hard growing up when I would sail away, but I know her. For better or worse I can read that woman’s heart like fresh carved runes, and I think she is being genuine. Now if you excuse me, I believe I need to have a private conversation with my son.’ Ragnar sighed tiredly before he followed Sigurd.

‘What do you think, Ivar?’ Ubbe asked his youngest brother.

‘I think…my betrothed did speak with her, and I think the conversation went more or less the same way she says it does. What I don’t know is if she is accepting that conversation as a friendly warning or a threat.’

‘You think she would sabotage (Y/N)’s hunt?’ Hvitserk asked in shock.

‘At first I will admit I did think her capable of it, but in my heart I know that isn’t like her. I know I should have no say in it seeing how she doted on me, but she has never gone out of her way to hurt any one of us. I don’t think she ever would.’ Ivar answered honestly.

‘He is right, Mother never cared enough to be cruel to us, sure she poured love onto Ivar, but Ivar is going to marry. Who will be there for her to pour on to? Ragnar?’ Ubbe said strategically, as if he were discussing a battle in a war room, not his own mother.

‘So she wants our love now that Ivar has his own woman.’ Hvitserk realized.

The room fell into one last long silence before Hvitserk noisily slurped down the very last of porridge in his bowl and stood up.

‘Well,I’m flattered to finally be worth her affections, however, what she does will have no true effect on me, but I will not discourage her efforts.’ The middle son declared before he too left.

‘What about you Ubbe? Do you still long for Mother’s love?’ Ivar asked.

‘You know, I remember the day we fell through the ice.’ Ubbe said, surprising Ivar.

Neither Ubbe or Hvitserk ever spoke about that terrible day, no matter how strategically he and Sigurd asked about it growing up; and they had asked quite often back then.

‘We had followed mother and Harbard, because why not, it was too cold for fishing obviously and we were too young to hunt back then. They went into a hut and we went to get a closer look but there was a noise…a calling so inviting and pleasant it carried us away.’

Ivar didn’t want to reply and pull his brother out of his sharing mood so he just listened and let Ubbe speak freely. He had never seen his eldest brother look so lost in his own mind while talking before, it seemed as if he was doing more than remembering. He was there all over again, a small boy out exploring with his brother on a winter's day.

‘It promised such fun and we were so excited we didn’t realize how far we had walked, but we did notice when the snowy grass became ice beneath our feet, but the call assured us and on we walked further out on the ice. Siggy, do you remember her?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Of course, Rollo’s wife.’ Ivar provided.

‘She was a kind woman to us, mother often left us in her care and she had seen us on the lake, she tried to call out for us but what was her small far away voice to a call only we could hear? A call that must have been from the Gods? She chased after us but it was too late, the ice cracked and the call stopped as soon as we fell into the freezing water.’

Ubbe seemed to not even see Ivar sitting across from him anymore, he was lost in the memory of coldness.

‘The water was so much colder than the ice had been, or at least that’s how it felt, cold all over my body, cold water in the lungs. In that cold do you know what I thought, Ivar?’

Ivar shook his head no, and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘I want my mother.’ Ubbe said softly, leaning in closer, as if this was his most precious secret.

‘I wanted to feel the warmth of her embrace and for her to whisper soothing words into my ear to assure me I would not be forced out of Midgard so soon. I even thought maybe she’d heard my silent cries and rescued us, but it was only Siggy pulling us out of the ice. Harbard was there, and she managed to give us to him before her own life was taken by that cold water. After Harbard had brought us to Mother she asked him to heal us and once he had she sent us off to bed for rest…without ever touching us.’

Ivar, who of course saw that his mother showed him more love than his brothers, was stunned by just how cold the woman had truly been to her other children.

As Ivar chewed over his rapid change in family dynamics his bride to be was walking vast dry hunting grounds.

She was brought some comfort in the fact she wasn’t in completely new territory. She had gone on at least a dozen hunts in this area. Of course those hunts had been with full hunting parties of at least ten.

Hunting in large groups was a common practice throughout the world because the simple fact was that there is power in numbers. More hunters mean more game can be caught, and the hunters had a stronger sense of security knowing that there would be more people able to watch their blind spots in case of predator attacks.

More than that, for (Y/N) at least, hunting in a group simply made the experience of hunting much more pleasant. She remembers talking with the others as they walked for hours to the waterhole where most game favored to drink and bathe.

Now she was alone and could not afford any such pleasantries. She had to keep her ears and eyes sharp, there was no one there to assist her in spotting anything that may be lying in wait.

Another benefit of hunting parties, she had come to understand quickly, was that it entailed more provisions. She had a large canteen of water that weighed heavily on her hip, but she knew it would be all she had until she reached the water hole.

And that was a half day’s journey and as heavy as it felt the canteen only had so much water inside. So she ignored the dryness of her mouth, resigned not to drink until the sun was fully in the sky.

Along with her water canteen she had a variety of tools and rope to make shelter, her father’s blade, an ax, twenty ready made arrows to go with the bow she carried by hand and a fortnight's worth of food in the pack she had on her back. One fortnight’s worth of food.

One fortnight worth of food.

One fortnight, that is two weeks.

Two weeks is fourteen days.

She repeated these things mentally every mile or so, she was determined to keep track of the time. If she allowed herself to lose her senses she could find herself out here alone with nothing to eat, no water and no choice but to wait for the rescue party.

No. Even if it did come to that she would refuse to return, and that would mean staying not only to hunt for a beast but also hunting to survive.

The thought of scavenging for berries in the dry lands was almost as discouraging as the thought of wasting arrows on smaller prey before finding her true target.

Whatever that target may be; she thought guiltily.

She had promised Ivar a grand cloak worthy of his Gods but she had no idea what that even meant yet alone what animal she would hunt. Luckily the water hole would be sure to have a variety of beasts to choose from.

After what she guessed had been four hours the sun was finally shining at its highest point in the sky. She took the canteen from her side and took a singular large swallow of cool water before closing it off again, but she held the container to her forehead to feel the coolness of the water inside.

It had to be at least noon now, that meant about six more hours until she was at the water hole, but that would mean arriving at by nightfall and that wasn’t wise. She would have to stop and make her shelter for the night.

A large cluster of boulders and a tiny cluster of palm oil trees in the distance told her she had in fact remembered the path from her previous hunts.

The rocks were where her hunting party usually sought shelter. The formation of the boulders created a sort of rocky valley and with wood and leaves from the trees a roof and walls can be fashioned.

(Y/N) took special care in looking around for any signs of a predator before she removed her pack and dug out some dried biltong and a piece of plantain bread.

She kept alert as she ate quickly, wanting to make sure she didn’t stay here long enough to be found by any thing, but she also wanted to savor the chewiness of the antelope meat, and the bread was so filling on her empty stomach it felt as warm as an embrace.

Once the last of the bread had been eaten (Y/N) picked up her pack again and continued on, still chewing the last bite of biltong, trying to extend the longevity of its flavor and the mere illusion of eating. After she had finally resigned to swallow the over chewed meat she again took a single drink from her canteen, this time only a sip as it was less about true thirst and more a desire to wash down her brief meal.

The further she walked the more she thought over her plans for when she reached the boulders.

First she would find the best spot in between the rocks that required the least amount of material to fortify. Then she would go and gather the wood and palm leaves to make the roofing and walls, after that she would go again to the trees for firewood to keep her warm once night fell.

She tried not to get too comfortable or confident but so far she was pleased with her progress. She had yet to come across so much as an antelope so far and if there were no prey animals near her that meant the chances of predators were much lower.

Of course that also meant if she did encounter a hungry meat eater it would probably be extremely eager to eat the first thing it found.

With that in mind she kept her grip firm on her bow as she pushed on.

It was when she was only about an hour away from her destination that she heard a rustling in the grass behind her that was too isolated and sudden to have been wind.

With an alarming quickness she pulled an arrow from her pack and raised her bow, aiming at the direction of the noise.

It was quiet again, but she was certain she’d heard something and she wasn’t going to turn around or move on until she found and killed whatever had made that sound.

She focused her gaze and scanned through the tall yellow grass for anything out of place. She kept a special look out for spots and stripes; this was big cat territory.

A final second of quiet passed before finally the grass rustled again, and this time she had seen exactly where the grass moved.

Without hesitation she released the arrow and several things seemed to happen all at once to her.

Of course things had happened one at a time, and they happened in this exact order.

First; the arrow flew like lightning into the tall grass, second; a loud pitiful roar cut through the air, and thirdly a lion had leapt out of its hiding place.

With no small amount of fear and an even larger amount of alarm the princess readied another arrow and began back stepping, she knew better than to turn her back to this beast.

Now that it was out of the tallest grass she could see it was a truly pathetic thing. Its mane was shaggy and matted, several scabby bald patches that had been licked raw from over grooming littered his back legs and it was so unsightly thin even in her panic she could see its protruding rib cage.

Her arrow stuck out of its left front leg in a vulgar way as it tried weakly to chase her down, but already her fear was subsiding.

Even as she backed away to put distance between her and the lion so that she could have a clear clean shot, (Y/N) could see that the arrow wasn’t the only thing slowing down her attacker.

Yes it limped on its injured front leg, but it made a huffing whimpering noise every time his right hind leg hit the ground. Clearly something had tussled with this frail thing before she had and it seemed that unknown creature had done her a great kindness.

Once she was confident in the distance between them she released the second arrow and watched it land true as it sunk into the lion's skull and the weak body fell into the dirt with a soft thud.

A final breath escaped its mouth and sent up a small cloud in the dry dirt it now laid lifelessly upon.

With the beast taken down she found herself breathing hard, her adrenaline still racing as she approached it.

Up close she could better inspect it to see if this had been it, if this could be THE beast.

However, no amount of optimism could allow her to overlook the matted shabby dark mane, the many bald patches she could see in the lion’s coat or the clearly visible bites they exposed.

No, this wouldn’t even be worth skinning, not for her husband's cloak, but still leaving it here was not an option, it would attract scavengers and most of those were pack animals. So she took out her ax and made quick work of dismembering the lion and then did her best to wrap the remains in the blanket she intended to sleep under.

It was too heavy to lift alone so she attached the sack to a rope and dragged it the rest of the way to the boulders. By the time she had reached her destination her legs and arms were more sore than they had ever been in all her years of training, but she didn't stop to rest.

Just as she had planned she found a small rectangular spot that was perfectly spaced between two boulders that stood twice as high as she did. There she sat the lion sack before she went to fetch the wood and palm leaves. The sun would be setting soon and she would not be out in the open with a fresh kill at her side when it happened.

She chopped and dragged long branches for one hour, then she fashioned two walls about one foot taller than herself using rope to tie the branches together, tying the leaves together to keep out the wind. She installed her walls by burying the branches in the dirt making sure they were firmly planted. The roof was easier to make since she had to leave a spot open for smoke to escape.

Finally, just as she had tied the last bit of rope securing the roof to the walls the sun was beginning to set. She made her final trip to the grove of trees for firewood and quickly returned to her newly built shelter.

Her fire was burning strong as the sun set, but she did not lay down, she sat beside the fire watching the flames as she thought one thing over and over.

What beast was worthy of Ivar the Boneless?

#@ubbesgirl #@shewolf2000 #@tis-itheapplepie #@atequila #@demoncrypt1066 #@greennightspider #@badbitsh13 #@fireismysaftey #@minarawr #@laketaj24 #@hvitserksgirl #@blahblahcookiesdoma #@fabulous-peasent #@sforsammmmmi #@minmiin1d #@courtrae89 #@letsloveimagines #@tomarisela #@titty-teetee #@beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit #@mblaqgi #@whenimaunicorn #@chuflisworld #@mystruggledlife #@moose-squirrel-asstiel #@syreni-dea #@trashqueenbitch #@alykatv #@mbaku-babygirl #@perfectus-in-morte

[redgillan]

Can I please be tagged in Missed Chances please? Thank you 💕

You got it! Thank you for reading this story :)

#tag list: mc #redgillan answers #fireismysaftey

[fireismysafety]

The most handsome man in the world 😍. Now just imagine him sending you this picture on your wedding day, while he’s in the car ready to go the place where you will have your ceremony, telling you how excited he is to marry you and can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you. 💕

#sebastian stan #golden globes #Sebastian Stan x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #the winter solider imagine #imagine #fireismysaftey #blurb

[themusicplayedherlife]

fireismysaftey reblogged your post and added:

Omg omggg omgggg I’m so excited that you...

THank you omg i love tyou too ;w;

#fireismysaftey #texts #i shouldn't be allowed to type omg #but thank you #you're too sweet ;w;

[spideywritings]

Can I be tagged in Humble beginnings please? 🙂

absolutely!! c:

#answered #fireismysaftey

[deansdirtylittlesecretsblog]

Can I get number 23 with Dean please?

#23 is all yours!

Mimi’s RomCom Fluff Challenge

#fireismysaftey #mimi answers asks

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: After all this time has Ivar finally caught his wife's trail?

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Anyone working under the delusion that Ivar would accept the fact that his wife had escaped him eventually learned that would not be the case.

His men had stopped their violent search of Kattegat, just as he had promised Bjorn, but he was still searching for her.

Even as the months went on to become nearly a full year.

(Y/N) had been missing for ten months, one week and four days, Ivar was keeping count of his lonely nights. Despite how the people talked he had not let Freydis warm his bed in his wife’s absence.

Instead he spent most of his days and nights in his war room, looking over all the maps of other cities and villages that Kattegat traded with the most. He was furious at the fact that there had been no news from any of his informants, and his relationship with his brothers did little to comfort him.

Bjorn was, as he expected, furious at his sending off warriors to such vital trading cities. He had shouted himself nearly blue when he’d arrived at Ivar’s estate; of course he let the King do his whining and even allowed him to smash his war table in his tantrum, because to him none of it mattered.

His ships had sailed, his warriors deployed and there was nothing to be done about it; not by Bjorn or even himself. Hvitserk, like he always had, chose to remain neutral in the argument. Ubbe was clearly on Bjorn’s side, but unlike Bjorn, Ubbe seemed to understand why he had acted so hastily even if he disapproved of the actions.

Currently Ubbe was the only one of his brothers who had friendly conversations with him, and Ivar would never be able to express how much he appreciated the company in these hard months.

‘Still no news?’ Ubbe asked as they both sat on the beach and watched a merchant ship approach.

‘Nearly a hundred spies and no good news.’ Ivar sighed.

‘No good news?’ the eldest questioned.

‘My spies reported at last that they had a difficult time keeping track of (Y/N) in my time away, she would leave town alone around midday…and would not return home until nearly sunset.’ Ivar confessed, laying back in the sand and covering his eyes.

Ubbe felt his heart begin to beat faster, but he was not sure how much information Ivar truly had on the subject they were discussing.

‘You think she had an affair?’

‘I do not know, that is what tortures me brother. Not knowing things has always angered me, and now it seems I know less than ever. I don’t know if she was unfaithful, I don’t know where she is; all I know is she isn’t here.’

Ubbe had such conflicting feelings battling in his chest as he watched a few easy to miss tears roll down his brother's face. He was relieved to not have been discovered as (Y/N)’s lover, but still he was upset to see his brother in pain and know he was at least partially responsible for it.

‘If you think she was unfaithful why continue the search? Let go of your devotions and remarry, you have no obligations to her.’

'Why would I ever think such a thing?' Ivar asked, his anger visibly raising.

‘I will not let go, Ubbe.’ Ivar said as he sat back up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

‘Not of her, not my marriage and not my anger. I will find her and she will answer every question I have.’

‘But what if you don’t find her? So far it has been nearly a year and you have had no progression in your search. It pains me to see you destroying yourself and your reputation for one woman you can replace so easily.’

Ivar looked over at his brother incredulously.

‘She can’t be replaced, not by Freydis or any woman in this world. She feared me Ubbe, do you understand that? From the day we stepped into that insignificant Christian kingdom, she looked at an army and still she feared me the most out of them.’

‘Ivar, every woman you have spoken to fears you. It would be impossible to find a woman in Kattegat you did not terrify.’

‘I know that, but how many of them would be brave enough to marry someone as vicious as me? How many would make that sacrifice? She could have stayed quiet and let any of those women be dragged away, but she stepped forward. Those Christian men offered her up like a lamb for sacrifice and still she wanted them to live, and was even smart enough to know how to play my mind games.’ Ivar explained.

‘How could I replace a woman like that, a woman that brave, who fears a filthy cripple like me?’

Ubbe sighed and stood up, looking out at the sea and saw that the ship was nearly at the docks, but he decided he could offer his younger brother some advice.

‘You shouldn’t want her to fear you, Ivar. How can anyone love what they fear?’

Ivar looked taken aback, as if he’d never considered not terrifying his wife, but instead of responding he turned his focus over to the ship crew that was unloading the boat.

‘I don’t see how he thought he was secretive?’ one of the men said casually as he helped to dock the ship.

‘He’s young, he’s never smuggled a damn thing and it shows,’

Ivar’s ears perked up upon hearing this conversation and he quickly called the two merchants over; abandoning his own chat with Ubbe.

The two men looked over at the princes curiously; as they had not been aware of the chaotic search for the Christian nun that had occurred while they were at sea.

‘Prince Ivar, Prince Ubbe.’ one of them greeted and the other nodded in agreement.

‘I’m happy that the Gods brought you all back to us, I would like to treat your crew to a small feast on my estate in the next fortnight.’ Ivar said cheerily.

Ubbe quickly understood the game Ivar was playing and he decided he wanted no part in it at all.

He bid his brother a less than polite goodbye and left the two men to Ivar’s manipulation.

A feast for a simple unimportant ship crew was unheard of, especially a feast given by a prince. It would have been considered a great sign of disrespect to decline his hospitality.

The two men thanked Ivar for his unwarranted kindness and went to let the others know that they would all, along with their families, be expected at the youngest Prince’s estate.

Ivar watched the ship crew discuss their surprising treat and he pulled himself up onto his crutches and began to walk back to the markets.

As he limped along his way he subtly motioned for one of his spies, a thrall working outside of the butcher’s stand, to walk along side him.

Obediently the man followed the wordless order and matched Ivar’s pace.

‘Everyone under my purse is to watch the men on the merchant ship that just docked. Every man is to be followed for the next fortnight. I will expect daily reports if anyone fails to report even one hour of their actions I will have them hung.’ Ivar said strictly not looking at the man at all.

As he had wished, his warning went a long way in getting the results he wanted. He received reports in the crewmens’ every action, he’d even gotten reports describing their trips into the woods to relieve themselves.

Still no news of his wife or of what the two men suspected a crew mate of smuggling, but Ivar was sure that this was the right ship.

He had discovered the ship had sailed off the morning after (Y/N) had vanished.

Ivar tasked his thralls with preparing for the feast and he was impressed with how well they had performed.

By the night his feast was set to happen he had large tables sat outside under a cloudless starlit sky and there were heaps of fine dishes and mead as well as wine from England.

The crewmen were all in awe of the extravagant show of hospitality and everyone gave him their thanks in person.

Ivar mingled among them and was pleased that the news of his wife's disappearance had become common knowledge to all of the men.

‘May I speak with you Prince Ivar?’ one of the men asked as he approached the high table.

Ivar was quick to recognize the man as one of the men he’d spoken to on the beach.

‘Of course come with me.’

With a great amount of control Ivar calmly led the man into his home away from the festivities.

‘What would you like to discuss?’ the prince asked.

‘Forgive my intruding, but I have heard of your wife’s disappearance, and I- I think I have some information to give.’ I asked.

This was what Ivar had planned; to give the crew such a grand feast that at least one man would be grateful enough to betray one another.

‘Please, I would owe you an unimaginable debt if you could help me find my wife.’ Ivar said cunningly.

‘I can’t be sure if it was your wife, all I know is that Amund had someone in that crate. We more experienced in smuggling saw him speaking with it, sliding his rations into it even.’ the old man said.

‘A crate?’ Ivar asked.

‘Yes, big crate, it could easily fit one person, maybe even two.’

‘Two?’ Ivar said, feeling his grip on his crutch tighten in his anger.

She’d had an affair and ran off with some nobody; she’d decided weeks locked in a crate with another man was better than the rest of her life with him.

‘You said this man’s name was…?’ Ivar questioned, struggling to keep his anger hidden.

‘Amund, strong boy; he went ahead of the rest of us and the first thing off the boat was the crate.’

Ivar took in all this information, trying to piece together what all this implied and he determined he needed more to work with.

‘Tell me, what happened after the merchandise was unloaded. Did he hide the crate?’

‘No, the crate was in the assigned room when we all brought in the rest, still nailed shut too. The Earl granted us his hospitality to rest after our journey.’

Again Ivar was silent, trying very hard to picture in his mind what could have happened. If (Y/N) was in the crate and this Amund was the one responsible for getting her out why did he leave it sealed?

‘Big enough for two…’ he mused, thinking that if there was a man strong enough inside with her he could break out of the crate with her then she could have escaped with him.

‘Was this crate ever damaged, or moved?’ he asked the crewman.’

‘No, at least not to my knowledge, but the journey had been harder on my body than usual in my advanced age. When the Earl offered us rest I rested, but I did hear rumors.’ the man continued.

‘Rumors?’

‘The merchants spoke of one of our crewmen walking into the Great Hall carrying an unconscious woman. I never saw her, but she was the topic of much gossip while we restocked the ship.’

‘Did anyone on your ship see this woman, even a glimpse of her?’

‘I can not say with certainty, I can only say that Amund smuggled someone out of Kattegat.’

The anger for the old man’s lack of knowledge was red hot and only cooled by his relief of finally having a lead.

Thank you for telling what you could, please enjoy the feast with your family. It is a celebration in the honor of you and all traders like you, what would our world look like without brave men like you all.’ the prince complimented as he dismissed the man.

As soon as the man was out of earshot Freydis, silent as death, immerged from the shadows of the dim lit room.

‘Spread the word, I want this man, Amund identified, and followed. He shouldn’t be able to sneeze without me knowing when and where.’ Ivar ordered, his voice much harder than it had been mere seconds ago.

‘For how long?’

‘As long as it takes for him to let down his guard and let the information slip.’

While Ivar’s spies began to focus on Amund, all the way in Denmark, (Y/N) was adapted into her new life.

In the first week of her new life as a thrall she quickly realized two things.

The first was that the life of a nun and the life of a thrall was eerily similar in many regards. An older, more hardened and experienced woman would assign tasks to her and then would judge if the task was completed correctly and met her standards. If she did well she would be given another, often more challenging task, but if it did not meet Hilda’s standards there was punishment.

It was a rare occasion when (Y/N) was on the receiving end of Hilda’s wrath, which was why her punishments always seemed so harsh in comparison to the other girls.

The second thing was that, even despite the hatred the head thrall clearly had for her, she greatly preferred the life of a thrall over the life she had fled from.

Sure the shed the thralls all shared was cold and hardly much of a shelter at all but she slept fine knowing she wouldn’t wake up to Ivar’s rage.

And even better she found other Christians among the women she now shared status with.

It felt as if she had been welcomed into a new church, even if it had only been a small circle consisting of three women of various ages.

There was Kendra, the youngest being only around nineteen who had been captured and sold from York. Dawn was in her mid thirties and was a cook, she had never said where she was from originally, just that she had been only thirteen when she became the old cook’s apprentice. Finally there was Megan who was closer to (Y/N)’s age being twenty four, she was originally from Essex.

After two years of hiding her faith from her tyrannical husband, praying amongst others was euphoric. Holding hands in prayer was what she looked forward to most when she awoke at first light.

Every morning she would be awakened by Hilda whacking a wooden stick against the walls of the shed from outside before the doors of the shed were thrown open.

‘Get up! Work to be done!’ she boomed unnecessarily.

It was common knowledge that anyone still laying down by the time the doors opened would not only be promptly hit with the stick but they also would get no first meal.

The term meal was used loosely, it was only gr Rx bone broth and uncooked crops or, if they were so lucky, scraps from feasts.

Today’s meal was bone broth and carrots, after receiving her portion (Y/N) went to the corner with her small group and they shared a brief prayer over your meal before eating quickly.

‘What is your chore list today Kendra?’ she asked the youngest.

‘Caring for the Earl’s stock.’ was the answer she was given.

‘Be sure you give the chickens enough, the last few we’ve cooked were more feathers than meat.’ Dawn sighed.

‘I will be…preparing for a visitor.’ Megan said quietly, hardly touching her small meal.

At this all of them went silent.

Megan was often used as a cleaning girl around the great hall, but on the rare occasion that the Earl had important company she was a bed warmer.

It was a truly horrible fate for any woman but it seemed to be an especially cruel task for a Christian.

Every night before Hilda came in to order everyone to sleep they all joined hands in a silent prayer, but even still it was obvious Megan only prayed for God’s mercy and forgiveness.

(Y/N) reached out and took Megan’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

‘God knows your heart and he knows your mind and spirit. He knows what sins you choose to commit and he knows the sins done against you. He will always forgive your sins and in time he will punish those who have sinned you.’ she encouraged.

Megan held onto the hand that she had been offered. Of course all the women of this small congregation were close, but Megan had such a strong connection and admiration for (Y/N).

The lie that Amund had told the Earl was widely believed and widely discussed in the markets. Meaning it was well known that (Y/N) was a runaway bed warmer herself.

It was for this reason that Megan looked at (Y/N) such wonder and great respect. In her unknowing eyes (Y/N) had done the impossible; escaped a lifetime of being nothing but a common whore for Pagans.

‘Hurry up you dogs! There's work to be done and if even one task isn’t completed then no one eats tonight!’ Hilda’s voice boomed.

Realizing that she hadn’t been focusing on her already cooling broth (Y/N) quickly drank the remaining liquid in the wooden bowl and stuck her carrots into her skirts.

Hopefully she would get a moment to sneak away and eat them before nightfall, if not then she would give it away to a beggar.

They all arose and set out to their assigned work locations.

Hilda sent a glare of pure malice at (Y/N) as she passed her on the way out of the shed.

‘If I hear so much as a word against you from the healers I’ll have you flogged.’ the old haggish woman warned.

‘Yes Hilda.’ (Y/N) replied, the air of respect and responsibility in her tone before she went on.

She had been assigned as a healer’s apprentice due to her telling the Earl she had some experience in that field of work.

Her days were spent gathering herbs and roots, mixing and brewing, occasionally there will be a person who is injured or falls so ill they need physical care and when that happens she would be the one to give them care. She would clean them, try to close up or disinfect their wounds and feed them remedies.

Today when she entered the healer’s hut she was met with the now familiar scent of living rotting flesh.

‘Girl.’ the healer, an old ragged woman named Skadi, called to her from the table where she was laying out her supplies.

‘Who is it?’ the thrall asked as she approached.

‘One of the Earl’s blacksmiths; got his foolish self cut and didn’t think to clean the sore.’

‘Infection, can it be treated?’

‘No, but he’ll survive.’ Skadi said sadly as she placed her necessary materials on a tray.

There were ropes to tie off the blood flow and restrain him, a leather strap to keep the man from biting off or swallowing his tongue, and a red hot ax in order to both remove the limb and cauterize the wound.

You hated doing this but it was necessary, the hut stunk with infection but it didn’t smell of death quite yet.

The man was older, maybe forty but clearly he’d lived a hard life to reach that age. He was quiet but his chest was heaving as if he had been fighting for each breath. His eyes were screwed shut and his head was turned away from his rotting hand.

It truly was disgusting to see a hand that mangled. The wound was still open, but no longer bleeding leaving an open gash caked in blackened blood and crusted puss.

She went about tying him down, making sure to be extra precise when restraining the arm that would soon be handless.

This was how she spent her days, in the hut with the sick and injured. It was a far cry from her old life in Kattegat. She was no longer a prince’s wife that was tended to by a full staff of thralls. Now she was herself thrall and she was called upon to do hard, truly hard, work and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaving the hut for the day (Y/N) found herself exhausted but hopeful that the man would be ok once he was rested.

As she made her way back to the shed she chomped on the carrots she had stored away from breakfast, thankful to have them at least in case someone really didn’t finish their chores and no one was given dinner tonight.

It was as she finished her last carrot that something compelled her to look over at the beach as she neared the shed.

There was a ship, of course there was a ship at the beach; where else would a ship be if not at sea. That wasn’t what made her stop in her tracks, it was undoubtedly a Kattegat ship.

By no means was (Y/N) an expert on such things but after two years she could single out Floki’s handiwork from any other boat builder.

Those sails, the dragon figurehead…that was not a merchant ship.

With her heart racing she hurried into the shed and huddled into the corner where she slept, but she did not lay down.

She just sat with her hands fiddling with the threads of her skirts, as she thought back to the morning conversation she’d had.

A visitor, an important enough visitor to be offered a bed warmer.

How had she not thought to ask who this visitor was? She prayed with all her heart that it wasn’t Ivar, but there was no way to be sure.

No, Ivar couldn’t know which boat you snuck onto, even if he did he wouldn’t just devote himself to hunting you.

At least not personally.

Ivar was a prince of a wealthy kingdom, as well as a respected warlord in his own right. What man would dare to disobey him if he ordered them to find you.

Everything was hitting her all at once.

She would have to leave tonight…run until she made it to the next town.

With what? No food, supplies or weapons to protect yourself? This wasn’t like the cold journey to Floki’s that last night. This would be a three day trip by foot. Not to mention it was no longer winter. It was spring and roads would be busy and therefore dangerous. A woman in rags traveling alone was little more than an invitation for a rapist on his way.

It wasn’t ideal by any means but it was either risk the dangers of the road or stay and be turned over to Ivar by whatever man Ivar had sent after her.

‘(Y/N), you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ Kendra said as she sat beside her.

‘Not to be dramatic, but it feels as if I have.’

#ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #vikings #vikings imagine #the one he chose series

[directionlessbuthappy]

Hooded

Reader x Ubbe

Taglist: @steadypiepsychicflower @cbouvier23 @holydream @fireismysaftey @funmadnessandbadassvikings @attorneyl@tephi101 @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @moondustmemories  @captstefanbrandt

Note: just a little something I started a while ago but struggled to finish. I finally got the motivation to finish it tonight!

In a forest as vast and dark and green, it was not hard to spot movement between the trees. Especially through well-trained eyes. In this case, the eyes of a son of Ragnar. Trunks large or small could not hide you. For you, it was far from a desire to stay hidden...you wore red.

“I’ve come from inland,” you told the man who'd stepped out from cover to confront you. The woods lay still around you, not a bird to sing or squirrel to rustle branches. “Just passing through.”

“With no man to guide you? You know these woods are dangerous. Loki is always hiding in the shadows,” the young man said wisely. You lifted your chin a bit.

“Dangerous because you are in them?”

“Me, wild animals, and whatever else you come across,” the man replied. He nodded to your hand. “How often have you had to use that?”

“Some.” You tapped your axe’s head flat against your leg. Unimpressed by his attempt to intimidate you, you moved between the tree trunks, intending to flank him and disappear.

“Are you going to use that on me, little red?”

“Perhaps. If Thor grants me strength,” you shrugged. He chuckled obviously amused by your borderline foolishness. Such a small young lady wandering these woods alone...she was either lost, stupid or a cutthroat. He’d take his chances; she had the beauty of both Freyja and Ran.

“What is your name?”

“Why should I tell you that?” you replied coolly, trudging aside but still watching him.

“Then perhaps you do not have one at all,” he said with a slight turn of his head. He did not move with you, but rather watched you circle him slowly.

“It is y/n.”

“Y/n...” he repeated. “Why do you wear a red hood?”

“Red is the lustful color of volva and Freyja alike. I worship her with this. Tell me, sir, how did you get the eyes of Odin?” 

Blue irises widened at you slightly. He was surprised to see you did not recognize his face or lineage. “I am one of his descendants, as was my father, Ragnar Lo-”

“I know who he is,” you replied. “And I know you, Ubbe.”

His hand drifted up, probably to feel a blade he’d kept. “So you are a witch?” Ubbe asked quickly, a slightly grin fixated on his face. An unsettling one.

“No.” You stopped, having got around him in a perfect half circle...so why did it seem like he’d circled you, and not the other way around? “I have heard of your legend Ubbe. I have heard all, even seen some.”

“How?” he asked. “You’ve come from the east...where?”

“Uppsala,” you replied sharply. Your tongue tingled with something....fear? It felt as though you could not lie to him. The All Father’s blood ran deep inside this man. 

“...take off your hood.”

You swallowed and complied, somewhat against your will, and tossed the red hood away from your face. Hot air blew from your nose as you stared into him.

The sight of your full face was lovely, yet disturbed him. Your eyes remained white and colorless, clouded over with the sight of the gods and the whispers of their secrets. Secrets so great, payment for them came with your sight.

“You are blind little red,” Ubbe said, somewhat embarrassed he’d taunted you. You smiled a little.

“I am not as blind as some,” you replied. “Besides, I have come a long way to become the new eyes within Kattegat. And not a single bear or wolf has bitten me.”

“The gods are with you then,” he said with a little nod in reverence.

“Indeed Ubbe, they are. They are with you as well I see...”

#ubbe #ubbe x reader #vikings #writings #little red riding hood au?

[bvckysmanbun]

Itty-Bitty

Steve Rogers x Reader

Written for @captain-ariel-barnes 4k Writing Challenge! The prompt being “that’s my shirt.” I apologize, this is the first thing I’ve written in a while and of course, I’m sucker for dad!Steve and fluff. A special shout out to @crypticavengers for helping me out with this! I hope you all enjoy! Comments/feedback/likes/reblogs are always appreciated! 

Warnings: None, unless you want to count fluff

Word Count: 909

Masterlist

Steve groaned quietly in pain as he slammed the door shut. He winced and murmured an apology to Natasha who, in return, raised an eyebrow at him. He grabbed his helmet from the seat through the open window. He let out a heavy sigh as he straightened himself out and turned towards the small house.

“I’ll see you,” Natasha called out as he walked up the sidewalk towards the small house. It had been a week since he’d been home. He noticed the sunflowers were about an inch or two taller and the ones of the verge of blooming before he left were open, radiating their warmth and light. They were leaning against the front of the house now.

The streetlights flickered on and he could hear mothers call for their children to come home from their friends. He smiled to himself as he heard them cry out for “few five more minutes!” Steve chuckled as he looked over his shoulder and lifted his hand as a farewell to Natasha. She smiled with a soft nod before driving off.

Steve dropped his smile and hand, a quiet groan made it through his lips as he trudged towards the steps. He felt the areas in his shoulders and back that ached, he could feel the already formed bruises, the older ones already fading thanks to the serum that ran through his veins.

As he opened the screen door, Steve could hear the soft music play through the house. He grinned to himself. She’s home.

Steve opened the door and quietly stepped in. The music’s volume grew now that he was inside. He let his helmet fall onto the couch as he walked past the living room. He peeked into their shared bedroom to find it empty. He stepped in to change from his stealth suit. Steve continued his venture into the rest of the house once he was comfortable in sweatpants.

He made his way into the kitchen only to find it empty, with the exception of a pot on the stove. Steve glanced around the kitchen and into the dining room, his lip caught between his teeth in worry. He opened the door that led to the basement where the laundry was located. The moment door opened, he heard the song along with a familiar voice.

Steve smiled as he quick-stepped down the stairs. He looked into the laundry room to see hersinging several words to the song as she folded shirts and placed them on the top of the washer. She stopped and held the shirt to her chest and sang to the chorus.

Steve chuckled to himself as he quietly walked up behind her. He knew her eyes were closed as she swayed her body from side to side. His hands carefully held her hips and his nose gently brushed up her neck to the spot behind her ear. She gasped loudly and dropped the shirt from her hands.

“Steven!” she gasped. Steve laughed quietly as he loosened his grip to turn her in his arms to face him. Her hands automatically held onto his forearms and her forehead wrinkled from the scowl on her face. Steve smiled as he pressed a light kiss on her lips before she could do anything. Her face softened, and she smiled gently. “Steven.”

“Hey, Doll,” he laughed as he embraced her into a hug. Her arms wrapped around his body and her face was tucked into the crook of his shoulder. He had on hand on her back and another on the bump of her stomach. He pressed a kiss to her temple and slowly pulled away. “Did the bug give you trouble? Wait-” Steve took into notice the material of her attire, “-that’s my shirt.”

She pulled away and wiped at her glassy eyes. She gave him a big smile as she picked up the shirt on the floor. As she turned around, she spoke. “You know how there’s cases where a baby in the womb reacts to sound? Like the mother or father’s voice?” She paused to look over at Steve, who nodded in response. “Well, this little bug reacts to scent – don’t give me that look, hear me out. Bug wouldn’t stop moving around through the night, right? So, three days into your mission, I couldn’t sleep. I tried music, I tried playing videos where your voice could be heard, I tried singing. Nothing. Until, I put on your shirt because it was the only thing laying near the bed.”

Steve watched her with a glint in his eyes as she continued to explain how she had to keep wearing his shirts, so the little Bug wouldn’t be so hyperactive and would calm down. He grinned as she talked with her hands, one hand still clutched onto the shirt that he knew was his.

“Did you really go through all my shirts?” Steve laughed as he tilted her chin up so she’d look him the eyes. She smiled sheepishly as her face heated. She squeaked a yes and Steve pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Her hands cupped his face and she giggled as she pulled away. Steve looked at her with concern.

“Though, for my and Bug’s sake, do you mind getting bigger shirts? I don’t know how much longer those itty-bitty shirts of yours are going to suffice for us.” Steve let out a hearty laugh and hugged her.

“Anything for you two.”

(perm) tags: @impossiblyteenagestudent96400

@mcginnis​ @jaybirdxarsenal​ @a-wanna-be-emo​ @an-all-write-life​ @theshortegg​ @spiderling-tom​ @shelteredheart​ @loverofthingscool​ @hyoyeoniie​ @theglowstickofdestiny​ @mimikyu-of-death​ @dixonsbugaboo​ @jenny21456-blog​  

(marvel) tags: @petals-sunwards​ @fireismysaftey​ @girlwhoisfearless​ @benedictcumbirbatch​ 

#captainarielbarnes4k #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #marvel fanfic #dad!steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #captain america x reader #captain america imagine

[themusicplayedherlife]

Can I be tagged in take a chance? Please and Thank you! 🙂

Hi, love! Of course! I’ve added you to the tag list c:

#tag list: take a chance #taglist: take a chance #fireismysaftey #cristal replies

[collecting-stories]

Surrey House 4 | Ivar

Hvitserk competes for your affection and Ivar throws a fit. 

1 |2 | 3 | 4

“I thought I might find you here.” Hvitserk calls, coming upon you in the garden. You were crouched at the chair by the lawn set, petting the cat that lay basking in the sun.  

When you heard the young Dane you stood and turned to greet him, a small noise of surprise bubbling up when he kissed your cheek. “Prince Hvitserk.”  

“I’m sorry we were interrupted earlier, I was hoping that you would consider having tea with me?” He asked. You missed the glance he cast to the window above the garden and his brother, who sat by the very same window, looking down on the two of you.  

“Certainly.” You nodded.  

Ivar had been watching you since you came out to the garden this afternoon. After a late breakfast hand delivered by you he had sent you off, saying he did not need to be entertained every minute of the day. Still when he saw you out in the garden picking flowers he couldn’t help watching you. The way your white dress moved in the breeze, making you appear near heavenly to him. Like some sort of forest nymph keeping watch over her plants.  

The picture in his head all fell away when his brother approached you and kissed your cheek. When Hvitserk glanced up to him Ivar moved away from the window, hitting the table in his haste and knocking it over. Your Northanger Abbey, that had been sitting beside his breakfast tray, skidded the short distance into the fire place and Ivar tossed himself from his chair in an effort to save it. He was angry at you, certainly, but not enough to ruin your favorite book. He did not want to hurt you.  

Hvitserk led the way back into the house, your hand tucked in the crook of his arm. He was telling you about his skill at fencing and your mind was off somewhere else, thinking that he certainly enjoyed talking about himself.  

“There is a tournament held every year for it.” Hvitserk informed you.  

“Do your brothers compete as well?”

“Ubbe does. He is quite alright with a sword. Ivar likes to think he could best us but he is unable to compete due to his legs.” He replied.  

“He is good with a sword though?”  

Hvitserk shrugged, “he is good with an axe.”  

Thinking perhaps that meant something different than what you were talking about you frowned, “I don’t understand, what do you mean?”

“Put one right through the chest of our other brother.” Hvitserk replied, “so you see, it is not just for his safety that he is kept away from people but for ours.”  

Just as you begun to reply a servant came running passed you toward the staircase, “Prince Ivar has been injured.” She called behind her, trying desperately not to spill the contents of the water basin she carried.  

“We should see to him.”  

“Have you not just heard me?” Hvitserk asked, stunned as you pull your arm away.  

“Tea later perhaps?”  

You hurried up the stairs after the servant, hearing the elicit scream of Ivar to be left alone as you neared his room. You pushed in anyway, only to find him sitting up with his back against the wall, a fallen tapestry behind him. Your copy of Northanger Abbey sat charred in the center of the room and Ivar held his hand in his lap, his shirt sleeve pushed to his elbow.  

The servant left the basin and towels by his side and hurried out of the room when he smacked her leg with his arm. When you came close he did the same to you. Reaching over and smacking your leg. You grabbed his arm to get him to stop and he yanked on you, causing you to lose your footing and fall over top of him.  

“Ivar!” You grumbled, sitting up. He glared at you, soot covered hand marring the part of your dress that he held onto. The next second your expression softened, your eyes finding his other hand, burnt from the fire. “What’s happened?”

“I fell.” He replied, looking away.  

You took a look around the room, catching sight of the still overturned chair and table, food from the tray on the floor and china broken. “Oh dear,” you picked up one of the towels and dabbed it into the water. He kept his face neutral as you cleaned the wound and then bandaged it, still sitting on his lap as you did. When you were finished you kissed his hand, “there, a kiss to make it better.”  

“I am not a child!” He snapped, pulling his arm from you, “I do not need kisses on my wound. You may go share you affection with someone who wants it. My brother seemed quite eager for your kisses when you were with him.”  

“I have little interest in your brother.”  

“He doesn’t fascinate you I suppose? Not as a cripple does sure-“ Ivar was cut off has you knocked your head against his in a fervent kiss. You held his face still, hands slipping to his shoulders as he kissed you back.  

“He does not interest me.” You repeated, breathless from the kiss.  

The prince’s eyes met yours, a silent understanding between the two of you. Ivar’s hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you back in, biting and sucking at your bottom lip. Before this visit you kept yourself modest, just as a good young English woman, and especially a princess, should. Hvitserk’s kiss had been eager but sweet, not forceful like Ivar. He pulled at you as if he wished to make you a part of himself and you returned the violent affection, fingers pulling at his hair as he nipped your throat.  

After you had rushed upstairs Hvitserk had found your mother in the drawing room, working on a bit of embroidery. When he came in she set it down, looking perplexed that you were not with him. “Where is my daughter? I was told you meant to have tea.”  

“There was a commotion upstairs, no doubt my brother, and she has run off to see what happened.” Hvitserk replied, a forlorn shrug of indifference as he pulled a scone off your mother’s tea tray.  

“This will not stand. I will not have a child so disrespectful. If you will excuse me your highness.” She went from the room quickly, taking the back stairs and coming up down the hall from Ivar’s room.  

When she pushed the door open she discovered you and the young prince in a rather compromising position. Sat on the floor, you in his lap. Your head and tilted back and your throat exposed to him, your dress collar pushed down around your shoulders as he kissed your neck.  

Your mother was across the room in the blink of an eye, screeching your name. As you pushed yourself away from Ivar she grabbed your hair, yanking you the rest of the way off his lap.  

“Mother let go!” You reaches your hands up, beating on her arm as she dragged you by your hair out of his room.  

Once the door was slammed shut she shoved against your own bedroom door. She took the master key from her skirt pocket and locked Ivar’s door. “If you cannot do as you’re told then I will treat you like the child you are and your toys will be locked away.”  

“No mother please!” You begged, tears from the pain she had caused and the thought of not seeing Ivar staining your cheeks.  

“Look at yourself, a pathetic excuse for a princess. Your cousin would be ashamed to see you and think that you are a contender for his throne.”  

“Mother! Please you cannot lock him up.”  

Your mother turned, leaning down to where you sat on the floor and smacked you. She grabbed your face in her hand, nails cutting your cheeks as pressed into your jaw. “You will not speak to me that way. I am head of this household while your father is away and you will respect that. Get to your room you ungrateful bitch.”  

She pushed you back and you hit the door as you scrambled to your feet. Once you were inside you heard the key in the lock and knew that she had resigned you to the same fate as Ivar, locked away in your bedroom like a prisoner.  

Locked away like Rapunzel...

taglist: @thinkingsofamadwoman @lif3snotouttogetyou @demonhunter1616 @silverblooddemon @flowers-in-your-hayr @fireismysaftey @crazyandanonymous4u @hejahockey @superanonymousreader @oqueequesentes-borboletas @possiblyafangirl @irishhiggins @catesleepinglate @mixedwiththemoon @greendragonzzz @kylobien @mblaqgi @captstefanbrandt @tephi101 @artanakin 

if you want to be tagged let me know!

#ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar lothbrok imagine #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar ragnarsson imagine #regency era ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivars heathen army #ivar’s heathen army #regency era vikings #vikings imagine #collecting stories imagine #surrey house series

[sebbytrash]

Winter Canvas - The End

The One Where Bucky Is Sorta Mad At You And Then Hes Really Not

Summary - AU Reader is an Art Major and needs a life model for a major assessment. The catch? It’s gotta be a stranger.

Pairing - Bucky x Reader

Warnings - Kids are cute. Bucky is cute. Everybody is cute, okay?  Tooth decay inducing fluff. Unrealistic expectations of men. 

A/N - So here it is, the end. I’m sad to finish this, it’s been fun, happy and a side of Bucky I rarely explore. Thank you for the support, it means everything to me. 

Winter Canvas Masterlist

“He’s being silly. I’m just his friend, Peter.” You fix Bucky with a look and he has to hide his laugh.

“Oh. Ok, well, we have a dance tomorrow.” He says, looks up at you with wide eyes, “Do you wanna be my date?”

“You know what, I’d be honored.”

“So, are you gonna tell him how you feel?” Nat asks as she helps you with your makeup.

“Don't be ridiculous.” You scoff, frown at her and then force yourself to relax and she smooths out your forehead in response.

“You're being an idiot, he's made it fairly obvious dontcha think?”

“Making it obvious would be asking me out, Nat. Not the obnoxious flirting.”

“Stop pretending you don't enjoy the fuck outta it.” Right.

You'd agreed to go to the dance for Peter, but you can't deny that spending time with Bucky wasn't also a bonus. He'd tried to talk you into letting him pick you up but you'd insisting on meeting him there. Picking you up would have been too much like a date and you had to start protecting your heart from the misery to come.

You stand at the doors, hesitating just a second before going in, ignoring the butterflies threatening to tear free from your stomach. He's just a friend.

“Y/N? Oh, I'm so glad you could come.” Peggy says as she comes up beside you, radiating the heat and comfort then a perfect stranger surely shouldn't. “Peter will be thrilled. Perhaps a certain Mr Barnes too.” She shoots you a knowing smile and the thought of it warms you to your toes.

“Oh I'm sure he's found himself company by now.” You tell her, mouth twisting at the thought of it.

“I wouldn't be so sure of that.” With that, she pushes the door open and motions for you to follow, the energy of the dance giving you that boost.

This was good. This was important. These kids deserve it.

You scan the crowd, mood lifting at the sight of all the kids and their families having such a good time, spotting Peter and a woman sitting at a table on the side of the dancefloor and make your way over.

“Y/N!” Peter waves you over when he spots you, his face lighting up like he'd expected to be let down and your heart threatens revolt. This kid.

“Peter. You look so handsome.” You say, bend down and fix his little bow tie back into place, then turn to the woman beside him, “Hi there, I'm Y/N. Peters friend.”

“I'm May, Peters Aunt. He's told me all about you. That was kind of you to help him with his comic book.” Her smile is warm, softly grateful.

You look down at Peters face, his innocent happiness glowing out and filling the space around him, “It was my pleasure you say.” And it was.

-------

Peter asks to dance after about 10 minutes, ever the gentleman, he offers you his hand. This god damn kid. You stay on the dance floor however long he wants, picking him up for the slow songs and seeing who can dance the silliest for the fast.

After awhile, you see Peter grin over your shoulder and do a not-so-subtle point. Before you turn, hands grip your waist and spin you, “Can I have this dance?”

You blink slowly and stupidly at him, losing a few minutes on the snugness of his suit across his shoulders and the warmth of his fingers tucked tight against your curves.

Bucky.

Shit.

He looks damn good.

“Y/N?” He nudges you, giving you that look that says you’ve been staring again and he knows exactly why. The quiet smile that follows paves the way for nervous fingers and shaking muscles.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Of course, yes.” You say when you figure out how to, find yourself wrapped up in his arms, your own hands finding purchase on the hardness of his chest, tap-tapping against it just to test the firmness.

“You look beautiful, doll.” His eyes sparkle in a way that has you wondering why they bothered with the cheesy disco ball at all. He has it beat, no competition.

TapTap.

“Hmm, yeah Natasha’s a wizard with makeup.” You say, never really one to accept a compliment and you aren’t about to start now, especially from the talking Jaw-Line here.

“You know, I think you might be the smartest, most oblivious person I’ve ever met.” The smiles gone, replaced by a seriousness that only emphasises the jaw. Good god, the jaw.

Your steps falter, seeing this seriousness in him, not knowing what you’d done to cause it, “Uh, what do you mean?” It sounds more like a challenge than you’d expected but the tone of him has you worried and it spreads out into your voice.

“You’re gorgeous.” He says, and the flip again has the knee-jerk eye-roll coming out, “That. That right there. You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that...I just, I know your a flirty guy.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I am.” He sounds so done, halts his movements so you’re standing and no longer dancing, “I am when I’m trying to date a girl.”

Well, shit.

Did he?

“Date a girl…” You repeat, blinking up at him like your trying to communicate in morse code. Was that tingling in your left arm?

“Yes, specifically you. I’m trying to date you.”

“Me?” Ok brain, time to catch up.

“Let's try this another way.” He says gently, hands moving from your waist to your jaw and tipping back so you're forced to meet his eyes, see the warmth in them when he’s saying what he is, “I’d like to kiss you, Y/N.”

He glances from your eyes to your lips, the warmth in his eyes turning molten, but waits. It takes a minute for you to figure out what he's waiting for. Welcome back, brain.

“Okay.” And just like that, he leans, or you do. Lips meet and collide, pour hot liquid down your throat and straight to your stomach. His lips move fluid, tasting the curve of your bottom lip with a purpose and a meaning that you’d never known lips could have. He goes to pull back but dips in again like he has to, like he can’t help it, a low rumble in his chest that says he’s appreciating it just as much as you are. And oh boy, you sure fucking are.

Your fingers ache and you realise how tight you’ve gripped his jacket, clinging on for dear life and because your legs are maybe just a tiny bit wobbly. He pulls back, finally, but stays close with a forehead pressed to yours, his chest huffing that’s mirrored in your own. TapTap.  

Wow.

Kissing. Who knew?

“You’ve ruined me.” He says, voice scratchy like how it might sound in the morning and oh, how sexy he would look in the morning, oh, “You’ve ruined me for every other girl.”

You smile at that, a real one that’s not to cover anything, warmed by the thought that it was real and he was real, that he wanted you and that sparks flying was a honest to god thing, “Same, pal.”

He laughs at that, tilts back to look at you full, “So, about that date?”

FOREVER: @manawhaat @theashhole @a-little-hell-to-raise @peculiar-persephone  @captain-rogers-beard @chrisevansnco @howlingbarnes @poealsobucky @vintagevalentinexx @abovethesmokestacks @imhereforbvcky @avengerofyourheart @ughjoekeery @carriefish-er @stormy-thomas @danijimenezv @buchonians @stevergxrs @marvelous-fvcks @betheboo55 @palaiasaurus64 @raxacoricofallapatoriuspotter @johnmurphys-sass @katbird787 @because-imma-lady-assface @stephie-senpai @movingonto-betterthings @sexyvixen7 @hollycornish @feelmyroarrrr @jobean12-blog  @justreadingfics @justareader @smoothdogsgirl @theliarone @aikibriarrose ​ @timeladylaurel @badassbaker @earinafae @crushed-pink-petals @purgatoan @tardis-is-mine @httpmcrvel @bucky2-0 @mocking-rain @sociallyimpairedme @jezzula @bless-my-demons @winterboobaer @ign-is @indominusregina @-supernatural-coffee-llama @alwayshave-faith @itsonlysarah @thelastxgoodthing @superwholocknda @shifutheshihtzu @mizzzpink @yknott81 @haven-in-writing @xtina2191 @reniescarlett @simplyme8308 @notsoprettykitty @tinaferraldo @wickedwerewolf @tori-medusa-belongs-to-bucky @tatalopes23  @pineapplebooboo @mizzezm @thefridgeismybestie @memory-of-a-goldfish @supernatural-girl97 @anyakinamidala @standing-onthe-edge

BUCKY:    @miss-mcbotty  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @learisa @the-observant-fangirl @borkybeans @almost-dean-inside @nerdy-gal316 @brandybucky @creideamhgradochas @beefthief247 @waywardpumpkin @assbutt-son-of-a-bitch @kaaatniss @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @impalaimages @swimmeranxiety @c-olpevole

WINTER CANVAS: @marvellousholland @klmpun @fizzylollipop12 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nuvoleincielo @fireismysaftey @lostinspace33  @random-nerdy-interests @dani-si @thunderous-flower @taylorjacksonandtheolympians   @whosafanimafan2194 @twentyjuanpancakes @seargantbcky @hufflepuffchloe @pietrotheavenger

#kale writes #winter canvas series #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky AU #artist!reader x bucky #winter soldier x reader

[ivybucky]

ice skates (s.r.)

prompt: steve’s never been ice skating but by the grace of gods you somehow manage to teach him

A/N: This is day 3 of the 12 Days of Winter fics event! I’ve always loved ice skating even though I’m horrible at it. I’m trying to take lessons though lmao. Cute Steve fluff for a cold day! Sorry if this is formatted weird, I had to do it all on my phone. A huge thank you to @nanners-the-great for giving me guidance in this fic - I could NOT do it without you. I’m also tagging @all1e23 cause I love her so much idk what I would do without her fics

Current Masterlist

12 Days of Winter event

author: abby

words: 1606

pairing: steve rogers x reader

song i’m listening to: please come home for christmas by the eagles

In the comfort of your living room, with fuzzy socks and a warm sweater, you watched the snow fall from the window of your New York apartment.

The mug of coffee in your hands was doing more to warm you than anything else. The less than freezing degree weather outside was making it difficult to stay warm in any capacity. The radio on playing “Please Come Home for Christmas” made you close your eyes in nostalgia. Winters spent with your family, making hot cocoa, being bundled up in coats, and ice skating slipped through your mind. In the middle of your thoughts, a familiar rap on your door broke the silence.

“Come in!” You called from the window, knowing all too well who it was. Steve walked in, shuffling his feet from the cold air.

“Hey Y/N,” he greeted, putting his scarf on the hook by your door. “I stopped by that market on 9th and got some of that soup you like if you want some.” He chuckled, setting the container on the counter. “Might not be warm, though.”

“Oooh,” you hummed, quickly setting your mug on the coffee table as you moved into the kitchen. You kissed his cheek, not missing the slight flush that flooded the area. “Thank you, Stevie. You’re the best.” You smiled.

Stevie just shrugged. “Anything for you, doll.”

Steve and your’s relationship continuously danced around the line of friends and something more. Ever since you unlocked the door to the apartment across the hall from his, you’d gotten real close. You loved to hear his stories about how things were before the war, and he loved getting to experience the modern life of New York with you. Everyday that he wasn’t on a mission, he was either at your apartment watching some “classic” movie he had never heard of or listening to music you had recommended. Everyday, you were helping him adjust more and more. Knowing you for over a year now, Steve had begun to realize just how much he enjoyed your company. Of course, he had always been a sweetheart and a gentleman in your eyes. Getting to know him more than just face of patriotism only made your attraction to him grow. Those dark nights after a mission gone wrong when he just needed someone to talk to, the times he had shown you his sketches of his teammates, and his extensive record collection were just all moments of Steve Rogers no one else got to see. And those moments were all beautiful in their own way.

“Well Steven,” you blushed at his comment. “What were you doing in Midtown anyways?”

“Oh ya know,” he waved his hand. “Tony’s having a big ole party for the holidays, of course, but ya know I hate those things. I thought if I went and got everybody gifts maybe he wouldn’t give me crap for skipping out.” You chuckled, moving your soup the microwave.

“What, not a fan of dancin’?” You teased.

“I love dancing, sweetheart,” he sassed. “Just don’t love dancing with the people who want to dance with me.” He gave you a small smirk, watching your lips slip up even higher into a shining smile.

“Oh? And just who would you love to dance with?”

“Oh ya know,” he waved his hand again as he stuttered. He looked down at the cup of coffee you had slipped his way and cleared his throat. “So uh, what are you doing today?”

You giggled at his nervousness, letting his answer slide. “I don’t know. Was thinking about going ice skating. I used to go all the time with my family when I was a kid. It’s been years since I’ve done it and I wanna get back into the swing of it.”

Steve smiled softly as memories glazed over your eyes. He hummed, already knowing what his plans for the day were. “Ya know,” he started, moving closer to you as he leaned against the counter. “I’ve never been ice skating before.”

_____

Within the next hour, you and Steve had finished your soup, changed into better clothes, and found yourselves in Central Park waiting just outside the ice rink.

“So why haven’t you gone skating before?” You pondered waiting in line to buy your entry. Steve chuckled and your arm wrapped around his at the elbow tightened.

“Well, you’ve seen pictures of me before the war,” he laughed. “I wasn’t exactly sturdy on my own legs, let alone skates.”

You giggled. “Well, I still woulda made you learn.”

As you the two of you got up to the booth, you reached for your wallet, only to be beat by Steve giving the attendant cash for the both of you.

“Steve!” You chided. “At least let me pay for myself.”

He just smiled at the man, before turning towards you holding out a hand. “Uh uh. I’ve got it, doll. Don’t worry.”

You clicked your tongue shaking your head, knowing arguing with him about chivalry was a lost cause. You followed him into the seats before the rink, slipping off your shoes and lacing up your skates. You could sense Steve’s nervousness as his feet wobbled in the skates when he was sitting down. Standing before him, you held both hands out to pull him up. You entered the rink smoothly, balance finding you quickly.

Steve’s hand grasped to the wall not wanting to let go of the sturdy base until he knew he wouldn’t fall on his ass. That hope diminished as soon as he stepped both feet on the ice, his body wobbling before landing on his rear. He heard your angelic giggle quickly slide up beside him.

“Don’t be afraid of the fall, Steve,” you smiled. “Embrace the fall. It’s the only way to learn.”

Steve smiled sheepishly, pushing himself up and taking your hand to steady his legs. “This is a lot harder than I was expecting.”

You laughed, “Yeah well, I’m gonna show you the ropes.”

After letting Steve go around the rink once or twice holding onto the wall, you convinced him to only hold your hand as he went around. He chuckled at his own shakiness.

“I didn’t know you were this good at skating, doll.”

You smiled softly as his hand tightened on yours. “A lot of people don’t know this,” you started letting yourself stray a small distance away, giggling as Steve quickly pulled you back to his side. “I used to want to be a figure skater. Before I had to start thinking about college and all that jazz, I dreamed of going to the Olympics and skating to my heart’s content.”

Steve smiled at your reminiscing. “Well go on show me whatcha got.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head. “I don’t think you could handle not holding onto me.”

“Alright, no need to be mean,” he chuckled. “Just go. I’ll hold onto the wall.”

Tentatively letting go of his hold, you broke away from the side of the rink. Gaining momentum, you quickly circled the inner part of the rink. Turning quickly into a jump, you twisted in the air and landed on one foot, perfecting an axel jump. Steve smiled widely as you quickly made your way back to him.

“Well damn sweetheart,” he chuckled as you pulled him away from the wall and put yourself in between the two. “If I had known I was skating with a professional, I would’ve asked for your autograph.”

You nudged him with your shoulder. “Oh hush.”

“I’m serious! That was amazing,” he complimented softly, hand tightening around yours for a different reason.

“Thank you, Steve,” you looked up with a soft smile and adoring eyes. Eyes soft, Steve cleared his throat.

“Gosh, I can’t even skate in a straight line by myself.” As if on cue, Steve’s skates seemed to trip over themselves and turned, pushing you against the wall with Steve pressed up against you. Your hands were still clasped at your sides.

His breath visibly entangled with yours in the cold air, noses almost touching. He could hear your heartbeat speed up at his closeness, your pupils dilated as they looked into his. He moved his free glove covered hand to cup your cheek. Slowly he moved towards you. You closed your eyes in preparation for the moment you had only dreamed of. Instead, his lips pressed against your forehead, rested there for a moment.

Steve was in the middle of mentally cursing himself for chickening out when you spoke up. “You missed,” you near whispered.

He pulled back, brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“You missed,” you smiled, blushing softly.

“I don’t underst-“ He began, but you cut him off by pressing your lips into his.

Chapped, but soft, his lips pressed against yours almost didn’t feel real. You let go of his hand to move yours to his neck, pressing him closer. His hand settled on your waist, slightly gripping your hip. His tongue swept against your bottom lip, asking for entrance. Soon your tongue was brushing against his, the small space in between you warming up with your combined body heat.

In a need for air, you broke away from his mouth, resting your forehead against his. Steve smiled sheepishly, noses bumping against each other. “Ya know,” he whispered breathlessly. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Hang of what?” You grinned, fingers softly combing through the hair at the base of his neck.

“This,” he stated confidently, cupping your cheek once more as his looked into your eyes. “Embracing the fall.”

And then he pressed his lips into yours once more.

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[bucky-smiles]

Everything is Alright

A song fic inspired by Long Way Home by 5 Seconds of Summer :) 

Warnings: None :) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

This was a night that neither Y/N nor Spencer wanted to end. 

Their date had been memorable, Y/N taking Spencer to a new exhibit at the local museum and then Spencer treating them to dinner. 

Now the couple was sitting in the car, the car parked in the parking lot of the dinner. There was a pregnant silence in between them, filled with unspoken emotions of happiness and love. 

Spencer looked to Y/N and Y/N saw out of the corner of their eye. They smiled softly, turning their head to face Spencer, “What?”

Spencer blushed lightly before reaching over and taking Y/N’s hand over the console in between them, “Can we.. Can we postpone me dropping you home?”

Y/N’s brows raised and the gestured to their position, “We’re in your car, Spence, you can take me just about anywhere you wish so that our night doesn’t end.” 

Spencer took his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment before a gentle smile made its way onto his face, “How about we just drive? Of course I have to take you home.. But there’s a possibility of an incorrect turn here or there..” 

Y/N smirks ever so slightly at their boyfriend’s suggestion before nodding, “That sounds like a very unlikely possibility considering you’re a genius.. But let’s.”

That’s how they were waiting in front of a stop sign.. Even though there weren’t any cars. The radio was on low volume, Good Riddance by Green Day quietly echoing through the car. Randomly, Y/N leaned over, pressing a light kiss to Spencer’s cheek, “Move before we get pulled over..” 

Spencer blushed once more, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips as he pressed the gas pedal once more, taking another random right. Y/N knew he knew the roads well, so they weren’t nervous of getting lost. 

At the next stop sign, Spencer looked over to Y/N, taking their cheeks between his hands and gently pressing his lips to theirs. Y/N was lightly startled but returned his kiss with a gentle smile on their pink tinted lips. 

Spencer pulled away after a few moments, a shy smile on his lips as he continued driving once more. Y/N didn’t question it, leaning back in the car seat and taking Spencer’s hand once more. 

When they finally pulled up to Y/N’s apartment, nearly two hours after initially getting in the car, Spencer let out a quiet sigh, looking to Y/N, “Those were the two best hours of my life..” 

Y/N wasn’t expecting Spencer to say that. They thought that he was driving for the sake of being with them, not for any deeper significance. They looked to Spencer with mild confusion, “How so?”

Spencer shrugged lightly, the same shy smile making its way onto his lips, “When I’m with you, everything seems like it’s going to be alright. All problems I thought I have are suddenly gone and it’s just suddenly you.. And your aura of home.. Even in silence..” 

Y/N blushed quietly at his words and leaned into the young genius, pressing their lips to his gently, “It should happen more frequently then.. We should spend more time together..” 

Spencer held Y/N close to him, the smile showing all of his agreement, “Agreed..” A yawn escaped his lips and he chuckled quietly, covering his mouth. 

Y/N giggled quietly at Spencer’s action, pulling away ever so slightly, “Come inside? We don’t want you to be falling asleep behind the wheel.”

How could Spencer resist to such a suggestion?

~Taglist!!~ 

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teehee!!!! I love all the encouragement you’re giving Jimmy and also the threats that he better not screw it up. :D I’ve had work days very similar to this and help is always appreciated! We’ll see if she thinks letting Jimmy help is worth the risk. ;) I adore you all! Thank you for your lovely comments and support! <3

Flour Girl {10} (Bucky x reader AU)

#posting for comments #i adore you #thank you #flour girl comments

[directionlessbuthappy]

Ivar’s Yule

A blessed Yule to all! I might do more of these... Cheers xo

Taglist: @steadypiepsychicflower @cbouvier23@holydream @fireismysaftey @funmadnessandbadassvikings @attorneyl@tephi101 @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @moondustmemories  @captstefanbrandt

"Ivar?"

The room was awfully cold and dark. Ivar was lying with his back turned to the door, trying to sleep away celebration. Sleep away family and tradition. Even with Floki teaching him all the sacred ways...teenagers are still teenagers.

"Ivar, come outside. The lighting is start-"

"No."

You sighed. When you and the youngest prince were children, he loved Yule. As a boy he'd make snowmen with you while the other kids had snowball fights, and a the celebration every year he relished in the sacrifices and the lighting of the great Fire. He nearly out-ate Hvitserk once a few years ago at the Yule table. But now he'd reached this stage. Self loathing and deeming everything "stupid" and overdone.

You entered his room wholly and shut the door. "Ivar please come outside...your mother is worried."

"So?"

"Well...your brothers are waiting for you."

"They do fine without me."

"I won't..."

Ivar finally turned over to scowl at you. His hair was messy atop his head and his eyes were cold, filled with annoyance and a slight confusion.

"I want you there," you shrugged, eyes darting to the floor. "You're my only friend..."

"You have sisters, go with them. Yule is stupid. My legs get frostbite," Ivar growled. You walked closer to him, making him shift uncomfortably to sit up and lean away from you. Ivar was never scared of anyone...except girls. They acted different. Ivar's legs always set him apart from other kids, but he was still a boy who played with his brothers in the same realm of thinking. Girls were...way different.

"I want you to come." Setting a little, crunched up ball on his bed, you folded your hands expectantly. Ivar blinked, then stared, at your bashfully red face. "Well? Open it..."

"Why?"

"Because it's Yule Ivar! Now don't be so stubborn and open the damn thing!"

Little y/n never swore in the 10 years Ivar knew her. This was serious, even if he thought she was being stupid...

He ripped away the covering and held a small...thing. It felt heavy for being as small as it was. Black and white melted together across it's surface.

"It's...a rock?"

You frowned and crossed your arms, looking at him pointedly. "It's marble, Ivar. From Rome."

Ivar's eyes bulged. "You're lying. How could a little girl get something from Rome?!"

"I'm 16 Ivar. Not little," you snapped. "I payed someone."

"You don't have the money for-"

"I know someone who does. Never mind how I got it...it's for you."

Ivar turned the chunk of polished stone around in his fingers. Milky white rock melted in with the shadows of grey and black lines beautifully...he'd heard stories of the Greeks and Romans using this to build things. Stories he's recall to y/n...

"...well, then, I have to go back before mother worries," you shrugged. Swallowing the frog in your throat - whatever reason it was there - you turned on your heel to go when Ivar snagged your dress sleeve. You froze.

"Thanks....y/n...its nice." Turning back, you caught a smile from him. It disappeared quickly, but it was still there. Still existed. Even with his heavy-browed scowl now, you smiled wide and radiant while Ivar grabbed his leather belt. He started tying his legs, an action he'd only take if he meant to go somewhere.

"Happy Yuletide, Ivar."

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar's heathen army #vikings #writings #holiday writings #its yuletime bitches! #have the best one<3