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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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Not The Right Time

The Story of How We Ended Up There:

Ivar+Reader (Modern! AU).

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

So this is my second idea for Ivar!

I am honestly a bit attached to this because it is the first one which came to my mind and with it being modern! Ivar I feel a bit more secure about the characterization, but still… let me know where I have to get better or work better!

I also wanted to explain that this is fictional and that some choices made by the reader are due to the plot and not what I actually and personally believe about such a complex argument as abortion.

Don’t feel judged in the slightest by this (and if you feel, please know I don’t mean it, and what I can do to avoid this mistake in the future).

Again this is a prologue to the bigger series, but it is mostly to know whether you like this idea or not!

So if you want more, please leave a comment or a reblog so that I’ll know what you think about it!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: It wasn’t the right time to have a child and it isn’t the right time for you to meet your child’s father after all those years, but maybe... time and Destiny are two huge bastards.

WORDS: 4,7 K

WARNINGS: Pregnancy, Unexpected Pregnancy, Pregnancy at a Young Age, Mention of Abortion (and Being Harsh About it), Heartbreak and General Angst, Abandonement Issues and Being A Single Mom, Mention of Infertility, Use of the Word Cripple.

You were sure that you were cursed.

Who could end up pregnant… the first time they had had sex?

And worst of all, when you were nothing more than sixteen years old.

You weren’t also the type who would risk such thing.

Although you were naïve you were well-aware of the need to use protection.

And then, in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten about everything.

Just for eight weeks after to cry on the toilet, at the discovery that you were pregnant.

You hadn’t noticed it at first: you hadn’t gotten your period for a month, but you hadn’t thought too much about that, it sometimes happened.

But then, a few weeks after you had started feeling bad, both not energetic enough to do the normal chores and also extremely nauseous, which had then resulted in you thinking that pregnancy might have been a cause of your unwellness.

You had thought for the entire time you had been waiting for the result of the pregnancy test, that it wasn’t possible, it would obviously turn out negative.

You had a successful life ahead of you, a child… wouldn’t ruin your life, but certainly it wouldn’t have ruined all your dreams.

You had been mortified to discover that you were indeed pregnant.

And then you had been indignant: there were people who constantly had unsafe sex, every time they had it and they would never ever end up with a baby on the way.

Then you had had sex once, and shit went down.

Back then you had been scared shitless of telling your parents and had hidden the pregnancy test: what would have they thought of you?

Still you had thought that you had to talk about it with somebody.

And more precisely, the father of the baby.

You and Ivar were the typical high school sweethearts: you had moved slowly from friends-to-lovers and were both late bloomers in the sex department.

Hence when Ivar had wanted to ‘try’, you had been over the moon at that news.

Lately he had grown distant from you, after you had had sex, and some part of you couldn’t help but think darkly that he wasn’t interested with you anymore ‘because he had finally gotten what he wanted’.

But you knew Ivar better than anyone: he might appear like the coldest ice king, but he was sweet and soft with you, shy and gentle, the perfect gentleman.

So, you had thought to at least inform him about ‘the child’, thinking that it was also partially his decision about the baby, although right now some part of you, the one who wanted desperately to continue on dreaming wanted to delete this ‘mistake’.

But some deeper part in you, thought about what a lovely life would have been to share a child with Ivar.

It might not have been perfect, but you felt like it would have been a nice image.

A nice image of your future.

But when you had asked Ivar to meet you at your favorite diner, the one you had chosen for your ‘first awkward date,’ he had also told you that he had something to say to you.

Had he realized that you might have been pregnant?

The entire situation there had seemed rather awkward, Ivar had this acute gaze in his eyes, not to talk about the harsh way his mouth had been closed closed in a thin line for the entire time.

He had arrived late, meanwhile you were halfway through the second of a milkshake you had been having, the pregnancy cravings playing an important role in your diet lately.

“Hey, sweetie!” you had welcomed him, your high-pitched tone, expressing your happiness to have him there, he always fixed your darkest moments “…how are you?”.

Unlike you, he didn’t seem in the mood for any sweetness.

He simply replied with a nod and ‘a fine’, waving the waitress over for a coffee, you stared at him for the entire time: you hadn’t seen him in quite for quite a few days, due to studying, and couldn’t help but set your gaze on him, welcoming any new traits of him and wanting to kiss them, passing a finger through…

“… I don’t have much time, so I’ll say this as quick as I can” and then he had caught you in his icy gaze “… I am not in love with you, anymore”.

An arrow shot through your heart would have hurt you less.

You had stammered some questions, but Ivar had been glacial in his words, definitely not asking for any reply.

“… I have discovered it from quite some time ago, I didn’t want to tell you till I was sure, but these last days… have been… I didn’t miss you” every word was a strike to your hear, and you hadn’t been able to properly protest “… I am sorry, I pulled this for so long, but I can’t…”.

Then and there you had gotten up, probably the best option possible, the only thing of that day that, looking back, you were proud of.

You had been crying on the sofa when your parents had found you, and there you had explained anything that had happened to you.

Child included.

They had been disappointed with you and your father hadn’t talked to you for the entire pregnancy but your mother had been the bigger support for you.

She hadn’t shouted, unlike your father, but just asked what you had wanted to.

‘Do you want to…?’ she hadn’t been able to talk about the option of abortion and you had understood her: she wouldn’t approve of it, but she would have helped through the entire process “… or do you want to keep it, babygirl?”.

“Shelley! Of course, she’ll fucking…! She is too young, she can’t fucking take care of a child!” had retorted your father, and you had covered your ears, shielding them from his hurting words.

It was as if for the first time your father wasn’t seeing his little girl anymore.

And you had chosen to try so desperately to go back to that image he had of you, choosing abortion, but when you had heard the child’s heartbeat, you hadn’t been able to carry on

You had gripped your mother’s hand and pleaded to her not to go through this, not to kill your baby.

Although you’d have to grow it alone, although the heartbreak was still pretty real and although it seemed the worst and you weren’t ready, you just couldn’t delete all this, so simply.

You had taken private lessons to hide your pregnancy, since you hadn’t wanted to reveal it to anyone, avoiding any outings unless you were sure you wouldn’t have been anywhere near people you knew.

The first week after the break-up, Ivar had continued on blowing up your phone with messages and calls, but you wouldn’t even look at his messages, ignoring him till you had convinced yourself to block his number and when he had tried to visit your home to talk, he had been lucky your father was out, and you had pleaded with your mother to fake of not being inside.

You had graduated from high school, one year prior, thanks to all the credits you had collected during the years and had a private diploma ceremony with your family and your pregnant belly.

You had grown to love your baby during the pregnancy: you would talk to them whenever you could, caressing your belly and chatting with them about your day, all the funny stuff you would do together and what the world outside looked like.

The entire birth part scared you like crazy, but you thought it would have been worth it.

And it had been as you had held your child in your arms, after hours of agonizing pain.

They had been forced to cut you open since the child was taking quite his time and you wouldn’t dilatate yourself, enough.

But when you had woken up your mother was lulling him in her arms.

He looked beautiful, having gained two beautiful blue eyes and a smile that made your heart clench.

Too bad that the doctor had taken it from you too early.

‘He seems to have problem moving’ he had mentioned, meanwhile he visited the baby ‘Is there any story of problematic diseases, troubling mostly bones or muscles?’.

‘The father has osteogenesis imperfecta’ had explained your mother, meanwhile you called out for your child ‘… but it isn’t…’.

‘No, sadly it is’ he had explained, meanwhile he gently handled the baby’s legs ‘… I can already feel a few broken bones… this is going to be much more difficult than you might think’.

Your mother had been scared about having to help you up, but you and Erik had just done fine, not without mistakes and problems, but you had managed to love your son and give him a proper life, even with his ‘problematic’.

All of this, without Ivar.

The Lothbrock had moved out on Erik’s first birthday, something which honestly helped you, since the thought of Ivar not meeting Erik stopped your ‘house arrests’ and pushed you out of the house, even more because you had to actually get a job.

Working as a waitress didn’t make enough income to help you with a child and the thought of moving away from your parents (although your mother insisted that you didn’t bother them, you felt that your father wasn’t of the same opinion) was terrifying, so you had taken up to giving some lessons to high schoolers and some more salutary jobs.

You ran all the time around, and had to definitely renounce to going to college, but each night, when you would come home, breathless and tired, to Erik, your sweet child, you knew it was worth it.

For five years it had been perfect.

And then everything changed.

Ivar knew he was already fucking late to the meeting with his brothers.

It hadn’t been properly his fault, although he would rather die than confess to his brother that he had been seeing a fertility clinic with Freydis, to try to start their own family.

The sole mention of a fertility clinic would have raised questions he didn’t want his brothers to ask.

Hhey already seemed to have a feud with Freydis that had been ruining his wedding’s preparations.

He already could hear Sigurd making fun of him for not being able to please properly a woman, which was partially true.

Through the years, his stupid prick hadn’t gotten up for any woman, even his beloved Freydis, the one woman that made him feel a god.

But it had happened once, probably more out of luck than anything.

His first love and the first girl whose heart he had broken.

And you had returned the favor: he reminded the days after he had acted onto his brothers’ wishes, when you wouldn’t answer the phone and pretended not to be at home.

It had been enough for him to feel like you didn’t want him anymore.

Maybe it was why his stupid prick wouldn’t work.

Some of the sex therapist Freydis had brought him to, had suggested that his ‘inability to raise to the occasion’ was due to some rejection his past, so it might have been actually true.

But he didn’t trust any of those doctors.

He simply did it for Freydis, because she still hoped.

He didn’t, anymore.

He walked in the diner, it was a small one, similar to the one of the city he had lived, before he moved in the big city, for work and for many more occasions, but he couldn’t help but regret the beauty of these small places.

They never aged and they always brought him comfort, timeless and always there for jim

He had had his first date in one of those.

(He had also broken up with his first love in one of those).

He still didn’t let himself drown in his thoughts, knowing that going back in time and turning it, was impossible.

(No matter how much, sometimes, he wished he could do so).

He immediately recognized his brothers’ table as the noisiest one, moving straight up to it, not minding the fact that half the eyes of the clients in the diner were on him.

It was one of the many side effects of being a cripple.

“You finally joined us!” exclaimed Hvitserk, talking through a full mouth of food.

“Unlike you lazy asses, I have things to do” he mumbled as Ubbe shifted to make him some space next to him “… can’t survive on father’s paychecks only”.

He sent a direct look to Sigurd, who was using his father’s paychecks to support his (failing) musical career.

“At least I don’t have to be reigned by my girlfriend” muttered darkly Sigurd and Ivar wasn’t able to stop himself from almost attacking him.

Thankfully Ubbe did it for him.

“No need to fight brothers” he stated, readjusting the glasses Ivar had knocked over “Don’t make a scene, we are older than children and we are here to have a nice night among brothers, are we not?”.

“I am here for the free food” muffled Hvitserk, offering a humor relief that made all the brother laugh lightly.

They talked more civilly and then a waitress moved in to ask their orders, but Ivar’s ears were suddenly attracted by another noise, a voice that had belonged in his memories.

Had he left them open?

And then he turned to where the voice came from.

And he saw you.

He remembered you as a sweet girl, what you had been hadn’t changed, except the way you carried yourself, showing a growth, a painful one that hadn’t changed what you believed in.

But it still left signs.

As the scars of a battle.

You had your hair up in a high ponytail, and you were wearing a waitress uniform, probably working there to fund your way to college.

Your eyes were tired, but your lips were crooked in a small smile as you took a small child’s ordination.

He thought he was hallucinating, when Hvitserk again spoke up:

“Is that (Y/N) (L/N)?!” this got all the brothers’ attention to shift to where Ivar was looking, although he wished nothing more than to shield you, because he had discovered you first.

“… oh shit, yeah it’s her” muttered Ubbe, following your silhouette as you turned your back to them to move to counter “… I thought she would be in college”.

“Some people don’t have their parents’ back up, she might be simply working to pay college” muttered Ivar, but nobody seemed to hear him.

“She hasn’t certainly aged a day!” commented Hvitserk, giving your ass a meaningful look “… ahh can you remember when we dared little Ivar, to…”.

Ivar shushed him with a dark look.

But when he was doing this, he didn’t realize that Sigurd was waving you over.

You approached the table smiling, since you and Sigurd had been an unlike friendship, and Ivar still remembered how his ‘most sensitive’ brother had been against the ‘dare’, but as he turned to face you, you seemed to realize who Sigurd was with.

And the soft smile fell from your face.

You seemed to have seen a ghost.

“Oh Gosh, (Y/N), it’s been a lot since we have seen each other!” commented Sigurd, meanwhile your waitress friend asked with her eyes whether you knew these people or not.

You simply nodded, forcing a smile on your face, telling her you would have taken their ordinations.

“Ah it’s been a lot of time, indeed!” you smirked lightly “… I always see you in TV!”.

“… sadly, never winning” muttered Hvitserk “… we weren’t expecting to see you working here!”.

“And I wasn’t expecting you to greet me without your mouth full of food, so we are both surprised by how Destiny has cheated us” you joked back, smirking lightly “… it’s nice to see you, guys, but I haven’t much time”.

Although you were trying to be gentle, it was obvious that their presence was making you nervous and uncomfortable.

Ivar wondered whether it was for what had happened with him.

He couldn’t help but notice the way you avoided any eye-contact with him.

They all quickly gave you their orders and you thanked them, but before you could go away, again Sigurd grabbed your wrist, making Ivar hiss lightly.

“You have been greatly missed, (Y/N)” the simple affirmation seemed to break something in you and you were able to simply bow your head, as you moved to quickly report the order to the counter, before disappearing in the kitchen.

A quick sign that you didn’t reciprocate Sigurd’s thought.

“Well that didn’t go well…” muttered Hvitserk, going back to his food.

“It was strange” muttered Ubbe “… it’s strange… I expected her to be in Europe, she was always so brilliant”.

“Ubbe, what she does is none of your business” muttered Sigurd, for once, his words matching Ivar’s thoughts.

“I just… I mean… she doesn’t seem as the person who is stuck at 21st to serve tables, she was always smarter than that” mumbled Ubbe, again but shushed, as an elder woman brought them their meals.

“You know our sweet (Y/N)?” she asked, probably having witnessed the exchange of words, and Sigurd explained they were old schoolmates “… such a sweetheart, and so strong…”.

“Anything bad happened?” asked curiously Ivar, knowing all too well when to ask and when to stay quiet, and that woman seemed like she wanted so desperately to talk.

“Nothing too bad” mumbled the old lady, pouring some coffee in their glasses “… just… she is so strong for bringing a child on her own”.

The news immediately surprised all the brothers.

Again, you were the smart and hardworking girl, the one that followed the rules and didn’t have any vices, so for you to have a child, so young, didn’t make sense.

You should have been attending the last year of college, hadn’t you already finished it.

The thought of knowing you were already a mom, completely shocked Ivar.

And, although he wouldn’t admit it, he felt jealous at the thought of another man having known you so carnally.

“… oh, we didn’t know” uttered Ubbe “We have lost the contacts, when we moved in another city, after high school ended”.

“If you want, I can tell her that you’d like to get acquainted again” mumbled softly the waitress, probably thinking she was doing something good, something that would have made you happy.

But from the simple thought of your forced smile, a few minutes before, you wouldn’t have been happy in the slightest of meeting them.

And Ivar couldn’t make it a fault to you.

“She is working, we wouldn’t want to bother her or get in trouble, we are going to try to maybe contact her through the socials, but it was good to see her” commented softly Sigurd, smirking gently at the elder waitress, who simply nodded before muttering something under her breath ‘about the usefulness of social’.

As she moved away a deep silence fell onto their tables.

“I didn’t… wow… she never told me” muttered extremely baffled Sigurd.

“Did you stay in contact with her after we moved?” replied harshly Ivar and as Sigurd shook his head “… well then you can’t blame her for having hidden this to you”.

They had obviously lost any right to you, after ‘the dare’.

He, himself, couldn’t blame you.

“…can’t believe it” muttered Ubbe, sipping slowly his coffee, meanwhile Hvitserk nodded.

“Accidents happen, don’t they?” muttered Sigurd. before he proceeded to move their attention away from the thought, although Ivar’s mind was stuck onto that news.

Had you searched the attention of another person, because he had rejected you?

No, you had always been stronger than you seemed.

You wouldn’t have simply searched somebody to feel some love.

You had had to have loved the father of your child.

And the sole thought of it burned his chest painfully.

You were on the last shift of the day, and although usually you were almost happy for the extra tips which would come, this time you would have given everything to change your shift or close early.

It had started as a nice day: Erik’s bones were strengthening themselves from the therapy he had been doing and he had been excited for the soccer training of that afternoon.

Your mother had been also extremely happy to accompany ‘her favorite grandson’: she had been rather blue after your father had left you, both.

Thankfully he had left your family but not the house and the little money your mother had on her own, which had funded your move from the small city to a bigger one.

Sometimes you wondered how much your pregnancy and Erik’s sickness had impacted on your father leaving, but you tried not to think about it.

He hadn’t been held at gun point, he had chosen to leave a faithful wife, a devoted daughter and a wonderful grandchild.

You, yourself, had walked at work happy, thinking about the fact that you had also managed to schedule a meeting with an art gallery.

Through the five years you had been working on improving your culture, although you hadn’t been able to attend college, you had attended some free courses and apparently they were looking for some people to explain the art gallery’s shows, hence you had proposed yourself.

Although you knew there would be many more talented people also attending it, but… you hadn’t felt like giving up.

If you got the job, you might have had to quit one of your many jobs and spend more time with Erik, alongside paying for some new therapies.

Then you had seen the Lothbrocks at one of the tables.

And you had been glad of having met again Sigurd: you sometimes would see some of his performances at lower TV channels, and always joked with Erik about his songs.

Ubbe and Hvitserk had been indifferent to you and you had kept up the same behavior.

But Ivar…

… part of you was worried about him finding out about Erik, solely from your thought.

Back in the day, he used to be extremely intuitive.

And part of you couldn’t help but feel the pain of rejection all over again.

You had tried to find an excuse to avoid them, after the first little chat, although you were aware they would be talking about it: the small town from which you had come from had talked since you had shown Erik to it.

‘She used to be such a good girl’.

‘She used to have such a bright future ahead of her’.

‘She could have been so successful…’.

Blah blah blah.

Although you would discourage people from getting pregnant at such a young age, you didn’t feel like you had lost anything, maybe just pushed it a bit in the future, but you, yourself, had gotten through your own prejudices of being a single and younger mom.

You might have lost something, but your child was a blessing in your life.

So, you just shook off the critics.

You were waiting at the cash desk, chatting amicably with the cook of the diner, the one who made the last turn with you, always having the kind heart of packing something for you, and leaving some sweets for Erik, slowly gaining a little spot in your family, as ‘uncle Will’.

You were also checking the situation at the Lothbrock table, because, whereas all the other clients had already paid or were going to do it soon, they were stalling.

Their meals were finished, and they were chatting, although there would be more silence than actual words, and when you had sent Marlou to ask if they wanted a dessert or more coffee, they had simply replied that they were full.

They were obviously waiting and deciding who had to pay for the meal, who had to come face to face with you.

You almost expected them to start playing ‘paper, rock and scissors’ but finally you heard the distinctive screech of one of the chairs moving, but as you raised your head to see whoever had finally managed to collect their courage ‘to battle you’, you couldn’t help but be a bit nervous to discover it was Ivar.

He looked a bit annoyed, as if he had expected somebody else to volunteer at his courageous attempt, but nobody did and you immediately shut your eyes onto the screen of the cash machine, finding their bill, so that you wouldn’t have to talk with him too much.

He, instead, seemed a bit chatty, although he had that painfully awkward smile in his face he had whenever he was nervous about doing something.

Back in the day when you were together you would rub onto the back of his hand if you were in public to let him know your support, or when you were alone, you would body-hug-attack him.

But those memories seemed so long ago.

“It has passed quite some time” he mumbled softly, trying to chat you up, but you had no interest in conversing with him.

‘I see it on my child’s face’ you wanted to mutter, but again: you couldn’t make Ivar discover about Erik.

At first it had been a petty thought of your broken heart, but the more Erik grew the more you were scared that Ivar knowing of him would take him away from you.

It was irrational, but sometimes you would check out on your child.

You would do it also that night.

“Quite some time, indeed” you shot back, telling him the total and asking whether he would be paying in cash or not.

Ivar seemed a bit taken aback by the coldness in your tone, but reacted to it better than he was used, hiding his pain at your harshness, as he told you he would be paying in cash, keeping up the entire rest of the transaction in silence, meanwhile you opened the cash collected the money, counting it discreetly, printed the receipt.

He tried to do one last attempt.

“… we should come all together one of these days”.

More like hell no.

But you didn’t reject the proposal completely.

“It would be nice” Ivar’s face seemed to regain a bit of color at that affirmation “I am just a lot busy with work, but I’ll see what I can do”.

And with that you passed him the receipt and wished him a good day, turning to the kitchen to fake an emergency there, whereas Will was simply packing you the leftovers which would be your dinner.

You waited there, spying on Ivar, seeing him for the first time in five years properly: he dressed as the industrial magnate he was rumored to become in a few years, expanding his father’s properties, but he didn’t have the face of an happy magnate.

At least Destiny hadn’t given him that.

He indulged a bit on his feet, and pushed a few dollar bills into the tips bucket, something that low key opened a bit your heart to him but didn’t make you feel any less convinced about hiding him from Erik.

You closed the shop alongside Marlou, who continued on commenting about how ‘gorgeous were your school friends’.

‘They were all so handsome! Ahh what a lucky family!’.

‘They could have been your children!’ you had retorted almost receiving an elbow in your stomach from the woman, as she muttered that ‘at least it would have been better than Karl’, her thirty something unemployed son with a permanent place on her sofa.

After you had wished her ‘goodnight’, you had walked till your apartment, rushing a bit both because seeing Lothbrocks had surprised you and both because you couldn’t wait to see again Eric, who had stayed the day with your mom, waiting simply for you at home to tell you all about his day.

No matter how tired or shaken you were, your son’s smile never failed to make you feel a bit better.

---

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laketaj24 · 5 years

Text

Immured II

Author’s Note: This is dark. Very dark. And therefore I find it necessary to give a disclaimer. There are triggers in the tags therefore it can be filtered out if you have filters. Warnings has listed triggers as well. I hope you continue to follow me and just ignore this series if you are not interested! Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in it via inbox and I will alter the list!

This was the Can I fuck the sad out of you Poll Fic. It will have another part out soon. Thanks! Taglist open, Requests Open. Happy Reading!

Warnings: Kidnapping, Sex Slave, implied Noncon, noncon, triggering situations. Language. SMUT.

Immured I

Pairings: Y/N x Ragnarssons, (this section mainly Hvitserk x Y/N)

It’s been two days. And he didn’t come back. It’s a hard thought to try to figure out if it’s a good thing or bad because you wanted that shower. You’re eyes were red from crying and your thighs ached.

The door opens and the blue eyed blonde stepped in. “Shower?” He said.

“Yes.” You rasped. Your throat aches, dry from the lack of water. They’d only given you one cup and a sandwich yesterday and nothing today.

“Stand.” He didn’t give a choice as he pulled you from the ground and onto your feet. “Gods they could have bathed you.”

He tossed you over his shoulder like a ragdoll and headed into the bathroom. It was small. White walls with a tiny window. He placed the clothes on the counter with a small bottle of soap and two towels. “Clean yourself. You are to Ivar.”

“No, please.”

His face softened. “I have no say in who has You next.” He cleared his throat. “I will offer your advice. Don’t fight him.”

Those words rang in your mind for the entire shower. The water was cold. There was not a way to change it, so the cold water ran over your body in trickles. And you slid into the red scrubs he’d provided. Your hair dripped.

If you could make it out the window, it would not be hard to run off. You lift it and it goes up an inch. Fuck.

The door opens and he’s there again. “You like to run?” He asked.

You didn’t even see him but saw the smile in his voice. The low voice urged you to back away. “No.”

“Not what I’ve been told.”

You shake your head. “I’m not good at it.”

“I still like the hunt.” His eyes glinted danger and you’re done talking waiting for him to make his commands. “Who are you?”

“My name is no difference to you. But I’ll tell you so that you can use it when you cum. It’s Ubbe.”

“Odd name.”

“Odd circumstances. Come, you must get to Helga.”

The woman from before, you follow him down the narrow hall to the open room from before. You say nothing as the two talk. You twiddle your fingers and then she turns to you. “Here.” She hands you the cup of pills. “Take them.”

“What are they?”

“Do not talk to me.” Her thick accent wavers. “Just go ahead and take them. Now.”

“What are the pills?”

“You’re defiant. They are vitamins. You look defeated and we need you on the yellow floor in days. So take the fucking vitamins and shut up.”

“Water.”

“Swallow then, and then water.” Helga waits with her hands on her hips.

“I can’t I need water.”

“I can teach you how to swallow.” He says stepping in.

You heed the warning knocking back the pills dryly and she hands you a half cup of water.

“If she is to become yellow she needs no scratches, or bruises to pass Bjorn’s inspection. Tell your brother to mind his knives.”

“I’ll send my warning.” Ubbe grips your arm and moves quickly this time pass the room up the steps to another level. The air smelled crisp. “Wait here.”

You wait and you hear another voice. The familiar voice that you’d feared for days.

“You aren’t to damage her, per Helga.”

“I would never.” He stepped into the hallway. His devious smile didn’t offer any comfort. “What is your name?”

“Y/N. We have not been properly introduced.” Ivar leers. “I am Ivar, the trainer of sorts, and we will have our first lesson of sorts. Firstly, I want you to give me your eyes.”

You turn and notice the other one has left. The hall feels smaller as Ivar crowds your space. “It’s simple enough. The second is always swallow.”

Your palms grew sweaty as he steps near. “Okay.”

“I’ll go easy the first round.” And he flips you against the white wall tugging the scrubs down to the floor and he shoves his dick into you. The stretching sting of the pain slowly fades as your body adjusts to his quick strokes. Then you are slick and everything becomes easier. “Your sweet pussy is still tight.” He growls pressing his fingers down on your throat thrusting up into you. He felt different, thicker than his brother. And his motions were purposeful. He dragged himself in and out of you and you suppress the urge to moan, to enjoy his usage of your body. But it was harder than you could imagine. Your body reacted to him accordingly as your back arched and your legs weakened.

“Ah,” it slipped as you silenced yourself biting your lip when his skin slapped against yours and his teeth scraped across your neck.

“See how being a good girl will get you rewarded.” Your body bumps against the wall as his strokes become harder, nudging you over the edge of control. “You’re gonna make us so much money. That fucking pussy is a gold mine.” You could hear the smile again.

Shame floods you as your body climaxes and you shake against him.

“Gods.” He groaned. His thick fingers grab a handful of your coils and he pulls out of you forcing you to your knees. “Suck.”

His rigid cock glistened with your cum, “don’t make me repeat myself.” His three fingers smack your cheeks and then his thumb pulls your mouth open. You open and your mouth and he’s not gentle thrusting into your mouth like it was your pussy. Fast and hard he grips the back of your head suffocating you and then sliding back out taking a thin trail of saliva and then back in. You gag, and it does something for him, and you too for that matter. And then you feel it, the thick warm ribbon of cum sliding down your throat and still he fucks you until he’s semi hard pulling from your mouth.

He tilts your head up. “Fuck woman. Your mouth is like silk.” And he steps back. “Back to Red.”

“Red?”

“Your home for two more weeks. You have some learning to do.” He adjusts himself and shrugs. “Adjusting to blood.”

“Please let me go.”

“Don’t waste your time begging.” He laughs. “Your sorrow just makes me cock hard.”

The room seems cozier once your back. The bed has been made, there are books and a warm meal. Finally something more than the sandwich. You sit with the chicken breast and the potatoes glancing over the books. The first one is Les Miserable. How fitting. You flip to the start and the door opens.

“I brought you that one because it’s my favorite book.” Hvitserk said closing the door behind him.

“Thanks, a book from my captor. How sweet.”

He cut you a smile sitting in the wooden chair across from the bed. “I’m sorry, about this.”

“Don’t come in here spewing guilt. If you were sorry I’d be free.” You bite into the chicken. “I don’t want your pity unless it encourages you to open the door and let me go.”

“I can’t. It’s bigger than you think.”

“Your cowardice is bigger than you think. Get out. My body aches and my head can’t take this conversation.”

“I’ll go.” He smirked. He stands. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll have to fuck you again…”

“Okay.” You gulped.

“Make it easy, just take it.” Hvitserk said with a hint of remorse on his face.

“Yeah, I’ll do just that.” You glare. “Bye.”

#ivar #Ivar The Bonless #ivar x reader #ubbe #hvitserk #hvitserk x you #tw: violence #TW:Rape #tw: angst #tw: noncon #TW: Knife play #tw: slavery #tw: abuse #vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar ragnarsson #Hvitserk's heathen feast #hvisterk white shirt #Ubbe Lothbrok

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