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honestsycrets · 5 years

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Wretched Little Angels: Aethelwulf’s Choice

❛ pairing | ragnarssons x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | ivar takes over the reins, and everyone else is just along for the ride.

❛ warnings | dark!fic, graphic non-con and violence, ivar being a dick, ivar planning, hostage situation, heavy angst. do not read if any of those will trigger you

They already knew what the possibility was.

“It’s possible that she may not even be alive,” Alfred spoke from the table.

It was a cold night, and his scarf was fixed around his neck, staring between his brother and his father. Aethelwulf paced from one side of the room to the other before coming to the table where they sat with full plates that neither had eaten.

“What if she is?” Aethelred returns. “She is a woman. They could be hurting her.”

By hurting her, all the men in the room knew what he meant.

“It is likely,” Alfred answers.

The question seems to really be what price they were willing to pay. For Aethelwulf, this was one in a line of disrespectful actions. It was the top of his list, no doubt, but it was not something he could so easily let go. Aethelwulf sets his hands on the chair, squaring his shoulders back.

“I’ll call him.”

“At what cost?”

The cost, he knows better than his sons. Aethelwulf runs his hands through his short black hair. His fist beats down on the table, effectively silencing his youngest son with his shrill that caused Alfred to scoot back in his seat.

“I want my daughter back.”

You should have stabbed Ubbe with that knife.

But you didn’t.

Hvitserk left you feeling burning raw and now, Ivar-- Ivar was something else entirely. His arm is thrown over your shoulder, dragging his nails over your empty stomach up toward your breasts. Your chest heaves under his fingertips. Your father is heavy on your mind. He is the sort of man to think he knows best and go through with it. Unless it was the words of grandfather, that was. He could always… do best.

Now that Aethelwulf was the one to deal with, well, there was no telling what he would do. You were sure of one thing. It would be reckless. When you glance over to Ivar, you know that this boy-- is more than he can handle.

“What are you going to do to them?”

“To your father?” he slides a lock of your hair from your ear. “That depends on him.”

“Please don’t kill them.”

This man, the Boneless, runs a chill down your back. You don’t know why. You only know that when he looks at you, he sees something little more then the daughter of a police chief. Ivar seizes your nape with his large hand.

“Oh? Well, I don’t really want you, so I don’t even need you,” Ivar whispers corroded words. A jangle of his belt reflects that he is loosening his pants. You don’t have to guess by now what he is about to do. “So let’s get down to business.”

It was fine. You’ve been put through worse. Ubbe was worse. Ivar less so. The grip on your neck tightens into bruised the size of the pads of his fingers. When you take him into his mouth, Ivar settles into petting your hair— almost like a good dog.

“Where is she?”

A warm voice asks, bursting with hot energy and frayed at the edges with his concern. You seize up under his hand, tightening your fist around his floppy cock. Ivar bucks his hips, and his cock responds in turn, swelling under your fingers.

“Nothing to worry about,” Ivar insists in a mouthy groan. “I am taking good care of her.”

You, as well as your father, know how much of a lie that is.

“If you lay a hand on my“--

“My brothers have done more than that,” Ivar answers, reaching down to stroke your hair. So close, but so far away, Ivar almost muses. “But if you want her back, you know what to do.”

With a click, Ivar drops the phone, cock throbbing and pulsing in your hand. A threat of moisture spurts from his tip and you take it with heavy-lidded eyes pressed together tightly that you refuse to let yourself cry. Whatever it was, you think, it wasn’t going to end well.

“You are going to hurt him, aren’t you?” Your voice teams with tension and fear.

“Well, he makes a shitty puppet.” Ivar laughs, tugging you up by a fistful of your hair. The burn of the cool air causes you to release his cock, which bobs excitedly when you whimper face to face with him. “But maybe you can level with me. Sit on my dick.”

You’re tired of it. The constant wear and tear of Ragnar’s sons tearing into your body. You let your knees fall apart under his prodding hand. Ivar’s lip twitches, somewhere between appreciation and annoyance that you could not follow a simple order.

“It’s not that hard to listen,” Ivar reprimands. He brings your hips down to him, slipping his hand underneath to guide his way into the hole that his brothers had all had. Pleasure thrums through him when he actually does slip in, and he shifts his hands around to grasp your shoulders to force you down onto him.

“You’re all used up,” Ivar says. “You don’t even have it in you to fight me.”

A succession of quick and shallow lines are pricked by one slow, deep one that Ivar made sure to know you felt. You know he tells the truth. Being used by the Ragnarssons almost becomes routine. If you ran, like with Ubbe, they would only make it worse.

“I suppose I’ll have to settle with this to send to your soft brother,” Ivar grasps a fist full of your hair again, dragging you against his chest. Ivar’s teeth catch your neck, rocked by a stuttering thrust of his hips. It’s no more than a hike in his breathing that marks that Ivar is cumming, deep when he drags you down against his hips.

His warm breath against your neck marks the release of his hot breath from your neck. He throws you off of his dick onto the leather seat of the truck. You catch the siding of the truck to stop you from knocking your head. But maybe it would be preferable if you didn’t have to be with these fuckers and knocked yourself out.

“You should sleep.” It’s almost with care that he says it. Though, from the events before, you question how a man like him could ever care about anything. “It might be a better option than being awake.”

The car door slams behind him. You jolt up minutes later when the coast is clear darting to the car door. The handle is locked when you try to open it. But of course, it could not be that easy. Sitting there, you find a certain green-eyed boy. “You’re like one’a them pastries,” Hvitserk says. “Always fuckin’ cream-filled.”

It would have been less painful to be with Ivar.

Your eyes relax from their wide, clear surprise at his presence. With another chance gone, you settle back down, pulling the small throw over your cold body and settling into a flat pillow that had seen better days. “Why are you here?”

Hvitserk holds up his gun, twisting it at you. “Sure as hell ain’t here for the pussy.”

You sit up, eyes rimmed by exhaustion, tugging your feet to your chest. It’s hard to sleep when someone like Hvitserk is there, teasing you outright for something that he knew you had no way of getting out of. Before long, the tears are spilling down your cheeks and you hate that-- that moment of desperation and overflowing emotion that leaves you a physical damsel in distress. Hvitserk stops, slipping the gun back on his belt and turning over the front of the truck to you.

“Why are you--”

“Why do you think?!” you lurch over, punching the head of his chair. You wish that you had hit him, but as quick as the mouseish thing was, Hvitserk moved to the side. “I hate you! I hate you and your stupid brothers!”

Hvitserk leans over the middle of the truck seats, letting a punch land on his jaw. He massages the area after the fact, not at all unfamiliar with the feeling of you spitting on him. It’s probably something he did deserve if he were to be honest, and he doesn’t hold it against you. If he were a woman…

“I’m not that bad,” Hvitserk says-- sounding if he’s trying to convince himself of that bit of knowledge. Your eyes well up with tears all over again when you come back to that pillow, squeezing it for emphasis.

“You’re the worst one!”

“Worst? Fuck man,” Hvitserk begins. “I’ve been nice! I didn’ do any of the shit my brother did, remember?”

“You were the first one. Time after time!” you state. An accusation, a sobbing accusation of that first time he caught you, mocked you with helping your father. Yeah, he remembers that. Hvitserk doesn’t know why he feels a flash of pity-- but when he feels it, he feels soft. He crawls over the seat.

“Hey,”

You scoot to the most impossible edge of that seat.

“Okay, except the wax.” He recounts wanting breakfast. That was a damn good breakfast after all that he did. You bring your blanket high to avoid looking at him. He debates reaching out, to peel the blanket down like he stubbornly would.

Except, this time, something holds him back.

“Thank you for your service!” says the barista. She hands him a steaming hot coffee which he takes, thwapping a packet of sugar against the cup. His phone begins to trill, and Bjorn shifts to his leather black belt.

Chief Aethelwulf, his work phone says.

“Hey chief,” Bjorn grins, pushing open the door for an older woman. She bobs in as he continues down the way to his car. Aethelwulf’s voice booms, shrilling about some fucker, ie. Ivar, with his daughter. “You found her? With the Ragnarssons?”

“A video? Never would’ve thought…”

He sets his cup down on the roof of his car and pops open the door. Ivar, what would he ever do with his baby brother, who regularly got himself into this sort of trouble. He would probably have a much easier time in negotiations. But no, of course not, things could not go so easily.

“Of course I’ll go with you.”

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ceasarslegion · 4 years

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I've seen a lot of resources that people pass around for when you drink a little too much but I feel like there aren't enough for when you accidentally green out, which is a shame, because it's a horrifying experience that's only worsened when you don't know what's happening to you/don't know how to mitigate it.

This is mostly anecdotal from me, but here's what's helped me out during a really shitty time, and everyone who has more advice please add on:

-your heart rate's gonna pick up. A lot. And you're going to hear it, and feel it more than you've felt it before. You might get a thought like "my heart's going to explode" but if you can, remind yourself that it's just the weed making you hyper-aware of everything happening. Weed makes your heartrate go up, and now you're just aware of it. You'll be okay.

-if you feel woozy or dizzy, sit down and put your head down on a table if it's available to you, in your hands with your elbows propped up nice and sturdy if it's not, or lay down in the fetal position on a soft surface like a bed or couch, slowly. Close your eyes, and reject your first instinct to fight it. Just let the feelings happen. You'll go into a sort of trance-like state where you feel heavy and boneless and for me it felt like waves pouring over me, but it will help you relax, which lessens the nausea. Make sure nothing's around that can startle you, and don't open your eyes quickly if the room is brightly-lit, because your reaction to it will be full-blown fight-or-flight to the smallest amount of stimuli.

-don't look at screens. You'll have an urge to zone out on your phone or laptop to pass the time faster and focus on something other than how you're feeling, but blue light is the LAST THING you need. Remember, everything you feel is amplified by a thousand, and blue light strains the muscles in your eyes. I watch the Plague Dogs when I'm coming down from a regular-calibre high because the sombre mood calms me down and hits a reset button in my brain that kind of flushes out the psychological effects that stick around for a bit after the canabinoids have worn off, but when I tried to do that as a lifeline when I was greened out for the first time in my life, I got to the log in screen on my laptop before I had to rapidly slam it shut because of how much it burned my eyes and made my nausea worse.

-you might have to vomit. If you took edibles, don't fight it. That's your body trying to make it stop by getting rid of what you ate. It fucking sucks while it's happening, but you'll expell a lot of canabinoids that are lingering in your digestive tract and feel much better after.

-If you're paranoid, and think you're going to die, remind yourself that not a single person has ever died of a cannabis overdose, and you're not going to be the first.

-If you smoked, it's often extremely temporary even when time dilation is taken into consideration. It may feel like it'll take forever, but just sit down and put your head down for a bit. After 20 minutes or so, ease yourself into looking up again. Rinse and repeat until it's gone. It doesn't take very long for that to subside when you smoked.

-if you start to shake uncontrollably, it might freak you out, but you're still okay and there's nothing wrong. It's called the cannabis shakes for a reason, and they typically subside after an hour or so, often less.

-DRINK. WATER. You'll get cotton mouth like you wouldn't believe, and dehydration is a real threat in this case. Drink as much water as you can manage to, but not all at once. Sip on it over time, and you'll yield the best results.

-if you get a sudden violent burst of energy and need to move RIGHT NOW, get up slowly, don't jangle your head around, and pace in a circle while taking long, deep breaths and shake your hands in a corkscrew-like motion at your sides. Don't leave the safe area you're in, and keep close to where you were sitting/lying down before just in case you need to go back down suddenly.

-If it hits too hard while you're out somewhere and you need some form of navigational skills to get to quiet and safety, it can be extremely difficult. I lose all sense of direction when I'm high, and I once had to walk 2km home in the pouring rain at night in the downtown core, so I know how scary that can be. DO NOT PANIC. Do anything you can to calm yourself down, no matter what the public might think of you. Sing, whistle, do something that grounds you and is extremely familiar to your subconscious. I pretended I was in a first-person open-world game, so I put my hands out at the same distance I'd see in a game like Skyrim and walked like that, imagining quest markers in the forms of certain street names and familiar landmarks. I was still speed-walking at an unnatural pace, and paranoid about how loud the rain was all of a sudden, but I know my way around a video game, so I was able to trick my subconscious into thinking it was something we had been dealing with all our life and knew how to handle.

-THAT BEING SAID, if you really, really can't get ahold of yourself enough to get home safely, walk into the nearest public service building whether it be a store, a restaurant, a bank, what have you, and ask them to call the paramedics for you, because you are not in a position to accurately describe what's happening if you're that paranoid or off-kilter. Don't ask them to take you to the hospital, because you are not in a position to defend yourself if this stranger has ulterior motives, but in a public space, there are witnesses. And by god, PLEASE tell them it's marijuana. They're just trying to do their jobs, and need accurate information to help you calm down and ride it out in a safe place with medical help if necessary. They will not contact the authorities if weed isn't legalized in your area.

It's going to feel like an eternity, especially if you took edibles, and you're going to have some scary thoughts pop up, but you can get through it with certain strategies. The most important thing to remind yourself is that you WILL get through it.

#weed #marijuana #advice #signal boost #shut up dames

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