#ivar lothbrok fanfiction

[jadelynlace]

Ink Drinker⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 14

series master post is here.

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Modern Ivar x F!Reader

***author’s note: I am...just so very sorry (not sorry) for this chapter. But let me remind you, if we can survive chapter five, we can get through this, too! Maybe. The divider is by @firefly-graphics​ (Damn, it feels good to write again.)

word count: 1600+ words

You made a promise. You took an oath. No man is left behind. And every day, every time the tones sing, those words ring in your mind. Teasing you, poking you, solely to remind you that if today is not the day you need to practice them. Tomorrow might be.

But today is.

Hues of orange, canary yellow, dance through your vision and your mind. Deafening under the gear, the smoldering and constant check of your oxygen supply. Now it’s all black—a total eclipse and you’d likely see more with your eyes closed. It’s a mental silence like no other, moving the motions through the burning structure as you scan and rescan every room and every last movement, trying to decipher if the ash is from the wood, or the burnt skin of a human. If what you grab is a bedpost, or a limb.

Adrenaline pumps through your ears and you’re crawling through soot as you grow warm from the fueled rush. Beads of sweat under the mask and you’re imagining the cold pool at Floki’s house, where you’ll dive into once your shift is over. Once the fire is out and you’re safely back at the station. But despite the pleasantry in your mind you’re still clearing the rooms, mumbling behind the gear and trying to sing a steady beat of the first song that comes to your head for strength. Structure fires were never the highlight of your career.

Moving again you hear more nonsense on your radio, too many jurisdictions on the same scene all screaming where there is no incident command yet established—even though you and your team were the first crews on scene, the area should be yours to orchestrate, but it's not. Even through all of the protocols, endlessly memorized in your head, they mean nothing in the chaos. You remind yourself: knee, knee, one hand to support, one hand to swing your halligan bar.

Cracklings start beneath the heaviness of the boots and there’s a loud bang that echoes through your head, but the thought of if it's external or internal causes even more pain before you’re through a rush of air and falling. And everything becomes darker.

You roll; out of pure instinct, you roll to your left and under the smoke you're met by an obstacle. Before you can swing your axe towards it, your hand finds another hand and the pounding in your head increases. Slowly, you reach, finding the size of the palm to rival yours and its familiar—it’s large like Ivar’s. Despite the heat, the flames, the adrenaline, you go cold. It’s not Ivar’s palm that’s attached to the unconscious body next to you. Logically, you know that. It’s Hvitserk’s.

“Y/L/N to fire control, we have a mayday—repeat, firefighter down. Firefighter down,” You all but scream. That oath sings to you suddenly.

There’s no time, you try to tell yourself. There’s no time and you hear a call of sirens start outside. Blowing through the city as everyone’s blood runs cold from your signal. On all fours you bend, you pull Hvitserk towards you, with you, and curse his size.

“Why are you so fucking tall?” You hiss to yourself as you’re pulling his arm—pulling as you crawl and tears start in your eyes. This isn’t how you imagined it.

Hvitserk is meant to grow old with Thora, after taking a culinary tour of the world in his retirement. He’s meant to be chasing the children he would have; the grandchildren he would have. He’s meant to pass his knowledge on to the next group of recruits. He’s meant to be there with Ivar, with you, through thick and thin. He’s meant to fight Aiden for the best man spot at the wedding. He’s not meant to perish in the job that keeps him whole. He still owes you for last week’s lunch. He’d be furious if you let him go to the grave with a debt.

When you’re clear of the smoke, clear of the flames, you stand. You stand so quickly you could break concrete with the force of your helmet. Hvitserk is over your back and you start—putting all your weight on to your thighs as the pledge sings in your head.

Daylight comes back and the entire crew sees you carry the man out, twice—three times your size but he’s there splayed over your back. Time slows as you walk from the smoldering structure; as one boot stomps after the other. Your arm’s twisted, pulling on whatever part of Hvitserk you can as you steady him. As you carry him to safety. As you prove to every single last person who doubted you in this career.

Then, suddenly you drop. Your knees buckle and you meet the concrete before you roll, leaving him. You scramble, pulling layers off, his mask off and tossing it away with yours. Gear, covers, shields, battle armor and you scream:

“He’s not breathing!”

Tearing through his gear you pull at shirt’s buttons, a rush of adrenaline seizing your insides and you should be waiting for the proper tools. Take off your damn gloves. But there’s no time now. You’re racing against the clock—against the science of the human body because you know how precious each second is. The only thing you hear, the only sound that registers is the metal of his badge clattering against the hot assault. The others gather, pulling equipment from the first in bag: oxygen tubing, AED pads, and the sun catches the metal of the laryngoscope.

Out of instinct your hands push, fingers curling and you start compressions even as you’re directed to wait, as your chief tries to pull you away because you’re hurt too. You just can’t feel it yet. Blood leaks from a gash somewhere on your head but your hands don’t stop. They don’t stop as you beg, as you pull your arms away from your boss’s grip again while pleading with the Gods—any one who will listen. Not to take Hvitserk. Not here, not now. Not like this. How would you even tell Ivar?

You look at his lifeless body as you continue the steady beat, counting through tears as you perform CPR on the one person you never, ever wanted to perform it on. But you do.

Because you took an oath. And today is the day you practice it.

*

Ivar bursts through the emergency room doors, strength nearly flinging them off of the wall and in his worry, his face has morphed to the scowl he perfected for a past life. Instead of mumbling to the front desk, he sees you over on the far wall, sitting on the ground, four by four gauze pad tapped to your forehead. You’re staring blankly at your boots.

“What happened?” Ivar asks quickly, words strung out in one breath and you don’t even look up. Only then does he notice Hvitserk’s badge in your hands. “Baby, what happened?” Ivar tries again and he sinks to your level. His legs tell him to move differently, to move much more slowly to meet the tile. Not this quick rush that’ll leave bruises in a few hour’s time.

“Y/N,” Ivar says sternly. “Where’s my brother?”

Those words pull you back, they suck you out of the smoke, out of the soot and the ash, the flames that danced around where you crawled. They take the sweat from your brow, they stop you agonizing over every move. Every motion. If you had just been faster.

No matter how hard you would try, you always went over every call. Every detail. You remember the first person who passed in your care; you remember when you had to call your first cardiac arrest. When medical control gave you the go, and you had to look an old woman in the eyes to tell her. You caught her as she sobbed over her husband of nearly fifty years. You remember the first infant. You can’t save them all. Everyone says that; those words have become meaningless. They crush with nothingness; they don’t soothe like they should. Because even if you can’t save them all, damn it, you think you should. You think you can.

Maybe those words are never meant to soothe? Maybe they’re meant to remind you—the true weight of this job. ‘Your life is worth my time.’ That’s what the company shirts used to say. Maybe they’re there to stop you from being eaten alive by guilt.

You shake your head to Ivar.

“I carried him out,” You finally say. That’s when you break; that’s when the weight of the situation finally comes down on top of you. Not a warm weight, like Ivar offers in the dim morning sun. A weight like none other; raw realization. “I carried him out,” You repeat, “I performed CPR on him. I brought him back,” You peep.

Those words strike Ivar. Without a second thought he’s around you, holding you on the floor as the emergency room bustles around the two of you. But to him, you’re alone. Locked in a tower, just the two of you. He remembers doubting you, once. Almost asking you over the game of vodka-fueled Truth or Dare if you’d slept with his brother. Now he understands just how deep the bond goes between the two of you. Strangers become brothers in a fox hole. Today was no different.

You cry into Ivar’s shirt, cry from the trauma, cry from the overwhelming realization that not only did you drag Hvitserk from the fire. You saved his life. You brought him back so that he can grow old with Thora, so that he can have the culinary travels in retirement. So that he can pay you back for last week’s lunch.

All because you took that oath.

Tags:

@smileysam13579  @dreamtherapy @angelofthenightposts @unbetaedimagines  @readsalot73 @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee  @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @prettyinpayne @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @fatedwithmbc​ @hashimily​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @love-all-things-writing​  @theanxietyqueen17​ @trip2themoon​ @tgrrose​ @synnersaint @kataphine​ @prepare4trouble​ @abbiii72​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @93xdiagonxalley​ @ivarisms​ @nordicshieldmadien @ironynoticony​  @ivarsgard​ @cosmicmerbabe​ @smears-and-spots​ @kaybee87​ @t4medicroe​ @noway4u​ @southernbe​ @ivarhoegh​ @anakindoesntlikesand​ @mymindfuckery​

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

#vikings #history vikings #viking au #modern vikings #modern vikings au #ivar #ivar au #modern ivar #modern ivar au #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar lothbrok #ivar lothbrok fanfiction #vikings ivar #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk au #hvitserk #modern hvitserk #modern hvitserk au #hvitserk lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #modern ivar ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #ivar x you #ivar x reader #modern ivar x you #modern ivar x reader #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

Ivar is tired.

Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.

The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.

Ivar is also angry.

As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.

Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.

He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.

His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.

Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.

"Who is she?"

Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:

"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."

"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."

"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.

The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.

And then appears he.

A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.

You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.

When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.

They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.

Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.

The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?

The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?

It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.

"I believe this belongs to you."

Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.

At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.

"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.

"And why should I keep it?"

The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.

"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."

Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.

The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.

"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.

You wish you knew the answer yourself.

"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."

Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."

"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."

"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.

Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.

"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."

The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:

How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.

But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"

Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.

"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."

Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.

#vikings #vikings series #vikings tv series #vikings fanfiction #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #vikings ivar #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless imagnie

[miss-madness67]

Mother Knows Best (Ivar)

Prompt: My arranged marriage with Ivar the Boneless was not a surprise. The surprise had been finding out he did not want to lay with me. Are the rumors of his incapabilities true? Is sex the answer to learn to love each other? I do not know. He scares me, but he is no less fascinating. That is why I decided to give him a chance. Slight AU. Ragnar does not die, neither does Aslaug. They rule side by side and decide to ally themselves with the Saxons.

Mother looks at me across the table. Her eyes are expectant, her expression unamused. She waits for me to say something; to tell her that I am already with child. But because I am not, I remain quiet.

“I would like to know my grandchild, preferably,” she says, “but it would be nice if at least I know you are with child before you leave Wessex.” She gives me a hard stare. Oh, I know she would like that, that’s the reason she has given me plenty of recommendations on how to please my husband in bed. Not that I have applied them.

A month ago, I was given the news that I was to be wed to the youngest of King Ragnar’s sons. A man I hadn’t even met and whose ruthlessness was well known. It was a political marriage. Arranged so our kingdoms would become friends instead of foes. My grandfather, King Ecbert, wanted to have a good relationship with the heathens, so he promised my hand for peace. I always knew I would be married for the good of my kingdom and not love, but that does not mean the news was less disappointing.

The wedding took place two weeks ago, right after the arrival of the Vikings. And as I approached the altar, that was the first time I laid eyes on my husband. His cold demeanor rendered me speechless, but his hard blue-eyed stare sent shivers down my spine. He was sitting on a chair waiting for me. I knew his legs were useless, so that did not surprise me. I tried not to stare during the ceremony but failed miserably. He had looked at me annoyed yet intrigued.

My father, Prince Aethelwulf, was displeased with the marriage, but he had little to no say in the matter. My mother Judith, even though she was in favor of the union, she did not agree with the choice of groom. She thought Ubbe or Sigurd would have been better candidates. King Ragnar himself had chosen Ivar, and my grandfather had agreed with the promise that he would be able to provide children. His ability to lay with a woman had many rumors, but King Ragnar had assured that Ivar was no less of a man in that matter. Not that I would know, because I had yet to lay with him.

The night of our wedding, the bedding ceremony had been canceled due to the Viking’s request. So when I entered the chambers, there was no pressure in laying with him. Yet, I expected he would have wanted me to because he is a man. That had not been the case. That night, we laid side by side in silence until the sun raised. Back then I had been grateful because I did not want to sleep with a man I barely knew, but now I have begun to question myself. Does he not find me attractive? Does he know how to lay with a woman? Is he really not physically able? Does he prefer men?

It is necessary for us to have a child in order to fortify the alliance. That is why my mother had given me tips to please him. I had yet to use them, I feared to do so. In all honesty, I had been afraid of my husband when I first heard of him, and during our wedding. I have heard how he is and I have seen how he treats people. However, that fear has receded ever since. These past two weeks he has been nothing but kind to me, even a little shy. That’s probably the reason why I have started to feel attraction towards him. That and his sharp mind. At first, I did not know how to speak his language. He has been slowly teaching me. And I have seen him playing chess with Alfred, it is honestly fascinating.

“It would be wise for your marriage if you have passion in the bedroom, darling,” my mother says.

I know she means good, and I know she is probably right, but I have to bite my tongue from mentioning her passion with my grandfather. Her marriage with my father is a mere paper. I do not wish my marriage with Ivar to be the same, despite the circumstances. But she does have a point, she has a very good relationship with my grandfather, whom she beds. Sex must be the answer to get closer to Ivar. And maybe, with time, we could learn to love each other. That is a foolish thought, but it is what motivates me to wait naked in bed. He arrives at the dormitory shortly after twelve. He has been drinking with his brothers, but all the inebriation leaves him once he sees me.

“Hello, my…” he does not like it when I call him titles, so I correct myself, “... Ivar. I have been waiting for you.” He does not say anything. Heat accumulates in my face. Does he not like what he sees? I fight the urge to cover myself and hide between the covers. His hands tighten around his crutches.

“What… What are you doing like that? What if someone other than me were to come in?” He questions, he seems angry at the idea, but his eyes do not leave my body.

“I made sure no one other than you were to come inside, my husband,” I whisper. Ivar must notice that I am not completely myself acting like this, because he looks away.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” He approaches the bed and sits down, his back to me. “I know this is an arranged marriage, we do not have to do anything that you do not want.” His voice is uninterested but his words are sweet. I hesitate.

“I know, but we are expected to bear children.” He tenses. He does not say anything, he starts to take off his leg braces. I wait patiently. The room is colder when he speaks.

“If that is what you wish this is unnecessary, you do not have to remove your camisole.” His voice is harsh and I know I said something I was not supposed to.

“It is not only about that,” I try to correct myself though my voice waivers in nervousness, “I wish… I wish for us to enjoy making children.” It is the most direct way for me to express my desire for him.

He stops what he is doing and turns around. He looks me in the eyes looking for uncertainty. I know he finds none when he drags his body towards me. His arms muscles flex and something knots in my belly. He looms over me with a hungry stare.

When he opens his mouth I think he is about to devour me but he speaks. “Do you not know the rumors? Do you not know what they say?” He does not wait for me to answer, “apparently, I can not please a woman, I can not give children, I am a useless husband.”

I do not hesitate to answer, “I do not listen to rumors, I like to verify for myself,” I put a hand on his chest and the other around his neck. “If it is false, then we shall prove them so, and if it is true, then we shall not give up until we try everything.” He looks doubtful, “I… have learned a few tricks that shall please my husband.”

His surprise is evident when he speaks, “well, I have also learned a few tricks that shall please my wife."

I smile, “then, let us learn from one another.” I do not have time to say anything else before his lips crash with mine.

It is uncertain if we will succeed this night or another, or if we will have children, or if we will learn to love each other. The only thing that I am certain of is that we care for one another. At this moment, in my husband’s arms, I feel like never before.

#ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x you #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #vikings fanfiction #vikings fic #vikings #ivar smut #vikings smut #ivar fluff #vikings fluff #ivar x you #ivar the boneless x female reader #vikings ivar

[fragileheartbeats]

⌗ 𝘝𝘐𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘚 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ( ♱ )

— 𝘙𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘳, 𝘉𝘫𝘰𝘳𝘯, 𝘜𝘣𝘣𝘦, 𝘏𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘬, 𝘐𝘷𝘢𝘳 <3

˚꒰🌼꒱‧ it was a request, but I deleted it by mistake. Anyways hope you enjoy!

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐑 | 𝑳𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑲 ─ ♕ . ♡𝆬

The Charismatic Leader

Ragnar is the strategic and deeply passionate yandere. His obsession is rooted in a profound emotional connection and intellectual fascination. Ragnar treats you with a curious mix of reverence and possessiveness. He sees you as his equal, his partner in both love and adventure. "My Heart," a term that signifies your essential place in his life. Ragnar’s love is shown in grand gestures and the sharing of wisdom. He wants you involved in his plans, seeing you as integral to his vision of the future. Ragnar's jealousy is a slow burn; he's confident but can become cold and distant if he feels he’s losing your attention. When vulnerable, he shares tales of his fears and dreams, often gazing at the stars with you, pondering the gods' will. Witnessing Ragnar’s intense conflicts, both internal and external, could be harrowing. His determination to achieve greatness can sometimes overshadow his attention to you, leaving you feeling isolated amidst his ambitions. Ragnar envisions you by his side as he makes history, exploring new worlds and standing together as equals among the legends.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐁𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐍 | 𝑰𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬 ─ ⸸ . ♡𝆬

The Fierce Warrior

Bjorn's obsession nature is that of the protector, almost knightly in his devotion. His love is fierce, and his protective instincts are strong. He treats you with a protective warmth, always ensuring you are safe and respected by all. He call you "My Shieldmaiden," even if you do not fight, it’s how he sees you—brave and strong. Bjorn’s demonstrations of love are in his protective actions, ensuring you never face danger alone. His gifts are often symbolic, representing his commitment and your shared strength. Bjorn’s jealousy can erupt into fierce displays of dominance, though he tries to keep it in check. His vulnerability comes out in quiet moments when he shares his doubts about living up to his father’s legacy. The worst experience would be getting caught in the crossfire of his ambitions and the dangers that accompany his life. Bjorn dreams of a future where you both stand as legends, with a legacy of strength, courage, and unity that echoes through the ages.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐄 ─ 𖤐 . ♡𝆬

The Compassionate Strategist

Ubbe’s obsession is more measured and thoughtful, rooted in a deep emotional and intellectual connection. He treats you with a gentle respect and an eagerness to share everything with you, from the mundane to the profound. He will call you "My North Star," guiding him through life’s tumultuous seas with your wisdom and compassion. Ubbe shows his love through acts of service and the sharing of knowledge. He’s always teaching you something new, ensuring you feel valued and heard. Ubbe experiences jealousy more quietly, preferring to outthink rather than confront. His vulnerability is in his fear of loss, often sharing his nightmares of a life without you. Perhaps the most challenging aspect of loving Ubbe is coping with his internal conflicts, particularly his struggle to balance his ambitions with his moral compass. Ubbe envisions a peaceful future, one where wisdom and compassion have created a world in which you both can thrive, surrounded by family and a community that respects the land and its history.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐇𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐊 ─ ✦ . ♡𝆬

The Wild Spirit

Hvitserk’s obsession is impulsive and volatile. He’s the embodiment of a storm—unpredictable and wild. He oscillates between intense affection and moments of distracted restlessness. But in his good moments, he's exhilarating and deeply attentive. He will call you "My Tempest," capturing both his perception of your captivating allure and the tumultuous nature of his affection. His demonstrations of love are spontaneous—adventures in the middle of the night, unexpected gifts stolen from far-off lands, and passionate declarations. Jealousy can drive Hvitserk to reckless actions, sometimes endangering himself to prove his worth. He’s surprisingly open about his feelings, wearing his heart on his sleeve. The inconsistency and his struggle with his own demons can leave you feeling insecure about where you stand with him. Hvitserk sees a future filled with adventure and unpredictability, always chasing the next thrill but doing so together, forever entwined in each other’s chaos.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐑 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 ─ ✞ . ♡

The Ruthless Tactician

Ivar's love is intense and all-consuming, marked by his cunning and ruthless nature. He views you as his ultimate prize, his reason for victory. With you, Ivar is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to his usual ruthlessness. He shares his strategies and thoughts, making you the confidante of his deepest ambitions. He will call you "My Queen," placing you above all, the only one capable of understanding his true self. Ivar’s expressions of love are possessive and grand. He eliminates any threats to your safety, often before you’re even aware of them. His jealousy knows no bounds, and he can become dangerously cold towards perceived rivals. In vulnerability, Ivar reveals his fears of inadequacy and his deep need for your affirmation. Witnessing the lengths Ivar will go to secure power and protect you can be both awe-inspiring and terrifying, as his methods are often merciless. Ivar dreams of a future where you both rule, unchallenged, with a legacy that will be remembered and feared throughout the ages.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

#ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝒟 eαr dıαrч 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀ #vikings #vikings x reader #vikings fanfiction #Ragnar x reader #ragnar lothbrok #bjorn ironside #bjorn x reader #yandere x reader #yandere Vikings #dark vikings #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe x reader #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #ivar the boneless #dark ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #yandere

[midnightstar16]

Whispers of Love: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: Reader is new in Kattegat and catches the attention of a certain Ragnarsson.

Warnings: Assault, murder, slight swearing(i think)

You came to Kattegat just a couple days ago but it didn’t take much time at all for you to notice the famous sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. You only saw them from a safe distance as they talked to one another. You noticed one of the boys was crippled but not before you saw his face. You were in awe, to say the least. But your eyes must have lingered on him for quite some time for he met your gaze with an intense stare that sent chills down your spine. You never had more reason to leave and go back to the hut you were staying in.

You became an orphan at the mere age of 12 and had taken care of the farm for many years with your older brother. But the two of you had recently decided that you wanted a far more exciting future than just farming on the land so you sold the land and took the money to buy a hut and look after yourself just until you had settled in. You forgot about Ivar soon enough once you reached you new home and moved on with your new life.

A month passed by and living in Kattegat was so much more different than the farm. It was much louder, faster and there were more people than you could count. But it was not to your dislike, it was the contrary actually. You had started your training to be a physician and you were doing nicely. Everything was working out better than you or your brother could’ve imagined.

Ivar had not stopped thinking about you ever since that little eye contact in the market and it may have been a bit delusional of him to still believe that he would see you again. You were probably not even in Kattegat anymore because he could not find you anywhere. You were the first girl to look at him with such admiration and he drowned in your beauty the second he laid eyes on you.

During dinner he seemed to have zoned out because Sigurd had to throw some food at him to get his attention. Ivar was immediately annoyed and glared at him. Trying to stop himself from flinging his axe at his brother, he asked, “Why are you throwing food around like a child?”

“You wouldn’t listen. Had to do something to bring you back to Midgard,” he replied.

Ivar rolled his eyes, already feeling great anger towards his brother but before he could say anything, his mother interrupted, “We are celebrating Yol tomorrow.”

Ivar drowned in his thoughts once more. He would know if you were in Kattegat by tomorrow night. If you were in the town, then you would be at the feast and he would approach you. He wanted to know all there was to know about you; all the important and unimportant things of your life.

You and Kalf, your brother began cleaning up the plates and horns after dinner. You broke the silence, “It is Yol tomorrow. There will be a great feast.”

“Yes, I have not been in the Great Hall since the Thing, where I got my arm ring. Just thinking about the food that will be there makes me hungry all over again,” Kalf spoke excitedly.

“We have just had dinner, you fool. How are you always this hungry?” You spoke laughingly.

“Your cooking will make any man excited to eat something else,” he commented.

Gasping, you threw the nearest thing you could find at him at which he simply laughed. You spoke sarcastically, “I won’t make food for you if you really hate it that much.”

“Well, I mean it’s not THAT bad if I think about it,” he retaliated.

Smiling smugly, you spoke, “Better.”

The feast was spectacular. You sat on a different table from your brother though because you knew he would embarrass you the first chance he got. The food and the ale was so good you could feast all night. There was music as well and many were dancing to it but you weren’t drunk enough yet to give yourself away to the music. You simply talked and laughed with your newly made friends.

Looking around the hall, you suddenly noticed certain eyes on you and then the memory came back. Those blue piercing eyes and that face, he was perfect in every way. You maintained the eye contact for long, getting lost in his eyes until one of your friends whispered, “That’s Ivar. The crippled one.”

You looked at her. You had heard of Ragnar Lothbrok’s crippled son. The girl continued, “They say he is a menace, quicker to anger than most men, so don’t let his legs fool you and not only that, but I’ve heard that he is stronger and better at fighting than any of his brothers. Apparently he strangled a boar with his bare hands but that is probably not true.”

“Of course it is not true,” you scoffed. After waiting a second, you suggested, “Come, let us dance. The music is lovely.”

The both of you giggled and rushed to give yourself away to the music. You soon felt the beat through your veins and the rhythm matching with your heartbeat. You danced uncontrollably, partly because you wanted to see how the crippled prince would react, if at all. His eyes had barely faltered from you and it was making you uncomfortable but you didn’t want him to know that. You didn’t want him to know that he made you feel weak by simply looking at you but every now and then you would give him a glance.

You suddenly felt a hand around your waist. You didn’t know who the man was for you had never seen him. His hold on you was not budging when you struggled. His other hand was roaming at places on your body that made you terrified and the hall was crowded enough for no one to truly notice your struggle.

“Let go of me!” you said, struggling.

“Oh what’s a bit of harmless fun? Especially with a woman of your beauty,” the man spoke.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as he continued to ‘dance’ and play around with your body until something that you hadn’t expected in a million years to happen. A knife suddenly struck his head as his eyes remained widened with shock. You quickly stepped away as his body fell to the ground. The tears ran down your face and you looked around trying to figure out who it was until you saw everyone looking at Ivar who was glaring at the man’s limp body. It was different to how he had looked at you in every singly way but you didn’t stay around to find out more. Feeling absolutely overwhelmed, you stormed out of the hall with Kalf following.

“What happened back there?” Kalf spoke worriedly.

“I-…” you hesitated. Before you could speak, your brother interrupted, “You don’t have to tell me. It is fine… Come on, let us go to our hut.”

Ivar had had his eyes on you all evening, his brothers even teasing him about it but he quickly turned them away angrily. But when he saw that asshole trying to touch you without consent, Ivar felt an uncontrollable anger. He wanted to skin the bastard alive but he couldn’t simply watch you struggle like that. Even after killing the man, Ivar felt no guilt. Why should he? He was simply protecting you, making sure you were safe.

No one had asked him about why he had done what he did. Perhaps it was already too obvious. Perhaps he had scared you off. You wouldn’t even want to go near him now. He felt his insecure thoughts weighing him down during the night.

You barely slept through the night, the picture of the knife piercing the man’s skull replaying in your mind and then seeing the look Ivar had on his face. That menacing look, the one that could take down entire armies.

The next day, you went away from the town to feel the quiet of nature that you had already begun to miss. You walked around the forest, finding a riverbank to sit nearby quickly enough. You thought about what had happened last night, how, in some really fucked up way, Ivar saved you. But he also killed a man who will never experience Valhalla now. Then again, that monster didn’t deserve Valhalla. You sat there wondering what would’ve happened if Ivar had not intervened.

“Mind if I join you?” you heard a voice from behind. When you turned your head and saw that it was Ivar, you quickly stood up.

“Were you following me?” you realised in this moment, you were terrified of him.

“Will it help if I said no? Either way, you walk too fast so I had to find you myself,” he spoke. When you didn’t say anything, it didn’t take him long enough to realise how you felt, “You are scared of me.”

Scoffing, you reasoned, “Who wouldn’t be? You killed a man while I was simply inches away.”

“He was hurting you,” Ivar remarked as if that was reason enough.

“But you could’ve killed me,” you argued.

Ivar grinned, “I didn’t though, did I?”

“Well… No but still, it was terrifying,” you said while Ivar made himself comfortable by sitting against the trunk of a fallen tree.

Even though Ivar worked very hard to not show it, he had been very nervous to actually talk to you. Now that you were here, he didn’t want to ever leave.

You stood there silently before sitting down in front of him. What was it about him that you felt so drawn towards?

He looked at you lovingly, “What is your name?”

“Y/N is what they call me… But I already know who you are, Ivar,” you acknowledged.

“Do you?” Ivar joked.

“That anger in those gorgeous eyes of yours, how could you be mistaken?” you replied.

“My eyes are ‘gorgeous’?” he couldn’t control his smile.

You blushed, “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t mind the compliment though, please, y/n, carry on about my gorgeous eyes,” he teased. Truth was, he felt a thousand butterflies. He’d never gotten a compliment from anyone.

The two of you continued making jokes at one another, laughing constantly and time flew by ever so quickly. Ivar couldn’t believe the sun was about to set. With you, he didn’t have to worry about anything. He felt at peace.

When his brothers asked where he had been, he simply smiled and shrugged. For the first time in so long, he didn’t feel furious. There was something about you, like you were a goddess who appeared to save him. The next day Ivar went up to the same place, hoping you would show up. He was almost about to leave until he saw you show up.

You finished your work as a physician for the day as quickly as you could and relied on your friends to cover up for you. Once out of Kattegat, you practically ran to the same spot on the riverbank as yesterday. You didn’t know how but you just knew that he would be there, nor did you know why you felt so eager to go to him either.

You continued these secret meetings for as long as you could. No one was aware of who or where you actually went but you didn’t care even if they found out. Ivar had become your sanctuary as you had become his.  

During one such evening, as the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the riverbank, you found yourselves lost in a conversation filled with laughter. Ivar had a knack for weaving humor into every exchange, and you found yourself charmed by his wit and the way his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Ivar grinned, his eyes dancing with mirth. "See? I told you I was the funniest person you'd ever meet."

Laughing, you shook your head. "Well, I suppose I can't argue with that."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, a warmth filling his eyes. "I'm glad you find me amusing, y/n."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter in your chest at the sincerity in his voice. "You have a way with words, Ivar."

He chuckled softly. "Only when I'm with you."

The air between you seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, and before you could think, you found yourself leaning in closer to him.

Ivar's hand gently brushed against your cheek as he whispered, "You're beautiful when you laugh, y/n."

Unable to resist the pull any longer, Ivar reached out, gently cupping your cheek with his hand. His touch was tender, sending a shiver down your spine as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest.

As your lips clashed with an overdue feeling of affection for one another, Ivar kissed you passionately and possessively almost as if declaring that you were his.

You pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, you found yourself lost in Ivar's eyes once more, a sense of belonging settling deep within your soul.

“I am yours, y/n, now and forever and you are mine,” Ivar’s words echoed in your heart as you buried your eyes in his, expressing a thousand unspoken words.

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar x yn #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ivar #vikings tv #vikings series

[barnes-lothbrok]

Little Love (Tattoos II)

Ivar x Reader

Summary- Ivar admires his pregnant wife sleeping.

Warnings- fluff, mentions of pregnancy and being pregnant

Word count- 1k

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Ivar ran his hand over his face as he slowly limped down the hall, leaning heavily on his crutch.

It had been a long day of duties, from listening to villagers worries and woes to planning for the coming summer raids. All he wished was to cuddle beside his wife who he'd missed deeply throughout the day.

You were normally by his side through it all but over the past few weeks you had been condemned to bedrest on the healers orders.

He paused as he got to the doorway of your bedroom, admiring the view before him. He never understood how you could sleep in such contorted ways.

As the fire in heath lit the room, you laid with your head buried in his pillows while the furs meant to keep you warm were tossed in a bundle beside you. Your night dress had risen up to expose your legs and tattooed thigh.

It had been a year and he still adored the sight of the ink on your skin. His innocent Francia princess turned Viking queen.

He moved towards the bed making as little sound as possible but from the soft snores it was clear you were in deep sleep. You hated when he told you, you snored but he found it adorable, although he never brought it up again as it earned him silence treatment for a few hours until he made you laugh about something.

Gently he perched himself on the edge of the bed, removing his shirt before carefully trying to remove his braces, something you had always done but he wished not to wake you.

He swore under his breath as he struggled before jumping slightly as you moved behind him. Slowly looking over his shoulder, he found you'd shifted towards him, like a magnet in your sleep.

Smiling, he gently tucked some stray hairs behind your ear and cupped your cheek as you hummed. You made little noises at him as if you were trying to talk to him but the capture of sleep was stopping you. Another thing you hated but he found heartwarming.

His eyes travelled down your body, taking in everything little detail from the freckle on your shoulder to the ink on your thigh down to your toes. He still couldn't believe after all these years, you were his and he was yours.

With a small smirk he lightly trailed a finger up your leg and traced the design on your thigh. He watched as your toes wiggled before tiptoeing his fingers up your hip.

His hand rested there a moment as he watched you shift more onto your back, relieving the swell of your stomach.

Ivar's eyes lit up as he felt tiny movements against his palm while he placed his hand gently on the bump.

"Hello, my little love" He whispered as he leaned down beside you, braces forgotten for the moment.

His thumb caressed your stomach over the fabric of your night dress, his face in a beaming smile as the movements continued. He was lost in a world of bless until you suddenly gasped and bolted up.

"My love?" Concern flooded his features as he watched you hold your side, eyes scrunched tightly. He had moved his hand away quickly as if his touch had burnt you.

You shook your head, getting your breath back before replying.

"It's ok mon coeur. Just a hard kick to the ribs" you sighed softly, kneading the dull pain in your side.

"Did I cause that?" He asked, still nervous to touch you again for fear of causing harm.

"No, I believe he was just excited to hear his father" you gave him a gentle smile took his hand in yours "you did nothing wrong"

"That was a kick?" He frowned "I thought the small movements were kicks?"

"In the beginning but he is growing stronger and bigger everyday" You felt were his hand had been before laughing slightly "I think that he was wiggling his arse"

"Oh" Ivar said softly, casting his eyes down before looking up at you as you placed his hand back and yours on his cheek, stroking his cheek bone.

"It's ok, I'm ok" you smiled gently "we are both ok, the kicks means he's healthy"

Ivar hummed as he moved to kiss you before breaking away as he felt a few kicks on his palm. His eyes widened as he checked if it hurt you before smiling down.

Ever since you told Ivar, he was to be a father, he had worried non stop about the health of the baby and yourself. The fear was justified as there was a small chance the baby could be like him and over the years of trying for an heir things hadn't been smooth.

After no success in the first couple of years, you decided to stop trying, if was meant to happen, it would. Over time you both believe it wasn't meant to be and were content with each other, this pregnancy was a shock but a happy one.

He shifted to place his head on your stomach while you ran your fingers through his hair.

"Little love, I know you are showing us what a strong warrior you will be but let's make a pact to be gentle on your beautiful mother" He murmured as he caressed your bump and earned a few softer kicks back.

"Oh Ivar" you smiled down at him, tears in your eyes.

He glanced up at you and smirked "Excuse me, I'm having words with my little love, my love" He teased dismissively, "this is not for you, go back to sleep"

You laughed and shook your head at him before you relaxed onto the pillows once more, listening to Ivar as you closed your eyes and played with his hair.

"I know your mother refers to you as he. Something about mothers instinct but just know my little love, we will love you whatever you are. You just focus on staying healthy and strong" He whispered as your hand slowed in his hair "we can't wait to meet you, I have so many things to show and teach you"

He glanced up at you again, noticing that you had fallen back to sleep."First lesson, always look after your mother, right now she is trying to sleep and stay strong for you. Go to sleep too, little love"

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #vikings fanfiction #ivar x reader #ivar fluff

[lavender-romancer]

Could you do one of what ivar the boneless nickname foe his lover/wife would be

Names for Ivars Lover

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

Fríðr- beautiful

It was the first nickname he ever called you after you'd spent time with one another a few times, the first time he said it under his breath. You had to ask him to repeat it and he rolled his eyes before telling you what he said. Ivar blushed slightly when telling you but he would never admit that.

My Love

After you kissed him the first time he told you he loved you, that he couldn't imagine how life with anyone other than you. It felt like a perfect moment that would never be interrupted even though you both knew that Ivar would be going to England soon enough with his father.

My Queen

When you were married with great difficulty he knelt down with his sword in front of you and called you his Queen, this offer of respect made you so emotional and shocked everyone who was watching. Seeing Ivar the Boneless the cruel and terrible submit to someone was unthinkable to them but you knew Ivar, he adored you.

My Darling

He tearfully looked at you with hands on either side of your face as you held the child you had together in your arms, a healthy baby girl that you both knew you would protect at all cost. Ivar was so tender with both of you, promising to protect you both until his dying breath wherever that may be.

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar ragnarsson imagine #ivar the boneless imagine #vikings imagine #vikings imagines #vikings fanfiction #vikings x reader #ivar lothbrok x reader

[underscorewriting]

Taking Care…

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: none, maybe a tiny bit of angst?

Words: 844

A comfortable silence surrounded them as they watched the fire burn. Her fingers softly combing through his dark hair, making his eyes closed in satisfaction. Chuckling softly she watched him, watching how his lashes barely brushed his cheeks, how his mouth held the smallest smile, barely visible but still there. A low disproving hum escaped him as she stopped brushing through his, letting her hand just rest on top of his hair, feeling for any remaining braids she couldn't see in the light.

Opening one eye, he shot her a glare making her try to hide her giggle, placing one hand over his eyes, shushing him. Smiling softly he leaned back into her, letting her continue her work. Humming a soft tune she concentrated back on his hair, making sure it wasn't knotted anymore, before rinsing it with water again, watching the last of blood wash out of it. Biting her lip in worry of it being his own, she again thread her fingers through his hair, carefully feeling for any sign of a wound.

Softly taking her hand that was covering his eyes he brought it down to his mouth, kissing her palm lovingly, calming her nerves slightly making her sigh in relief. She was used to treating his wounds, but the ones on his head still worried her the most, not knowing what it could cause to the parts she didn't see. Still placing soft, featherly kisses on her palm and each of her finger tips, the young man couldn't help but keep his eyes closed, leaning into her touch, letting her take care of him.

They both barely said a word when he came back, just needing to feel each other close. Needing to be in the safe haven they created with one another. Tugging on his hair, she grinned down at him with a glimmer of mischievous in her eyes as his own fluttered open to find hers, his heart melting at the sight in front of him. His lover looking down at him with the most truest admiration, her lips pulled into a grin as she tugged on his hair to get his attention, not wanting to break the oh so comforting silence.

Raising an eyebrow he felt his own lips pull into a small smile. Leaning down she placed a soft kiss onto his cheek, leaving a trail of kisses in their as she made her way to his lips. Leaving tingles in their wakening, making the young king shiver slightly under her touch. As her lips finally reached his, he couldn't contain himself as he cupped the back of her neck, pulling he closer, deepening the kiss. Soft gasps slipped out of her mouth making him catch them with the kiss, smirking softly.

With heaving chests, Ivar let his hand slip onto her cheek, caressing the skin softly, making her smile tenderly at him. Her eyes held love. The love he never thought he'd receive. The love he knew was shining even brighter in his own eyes when he looked at her.

"I was so scared, Ivar." Her hand softly playing with his hair, not having the strength to find his eyes anymore. Showing weakness was something so fragile, they both still weren't sure wether it was alright for them to be so open about their fears. Ivars eyes softened as he heaved himself into the position opposite her, taking her hands. "Whatever for?" Worry settled on his features as her eyes welled with tears. Shaking her head she realized how hideous her fear was. He was Ivar the boneless, nothing could or would be able to hurt him. He was protected by the gods.

But as the months went on her fear started to settle in, more reason flooded her mind. What if the gods suddenly stopped protecting him, making him vincible, easier to hurt. More months passed and the fear was causing her many sleepless nights, making her visit the seer almost daily, slowly starting to obsess over her husbands wellbeing. Ivar was fragile, he wouldn't admit it but he was and she knew it. The whites in his eyes turning blue, his bones breaking, being her biggest fear.

A small tear slipped down her as she turned her head away from him. "You need someone strong, I shouldn't worry." Chuckling softly he pulled her onto his lap, being careful enough not to put too much weight on his legs. “What I need is for my wife to worry about me when I’m gone for battle.” His fingers now drawing small shapes softly on the outside of her thighs. A small smile now finds its way onto her face as she nuzzled her head into his neck, inhaling his scent, calming herself.

Smiling to himself Ivar began running his hair through her tangled hair, an evidence that she, again, was spending more time taking care of him and his needs than tending to her own. Placing a featherly kiss onto the top of her hair, he hushed her quietly, stopping her thoughts from torturing her.

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar fluff #ivar the king #vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar x you #alex hogh #ivar vikings #modern ivar #modern!ivar x reader #alex hoegh andersen #alex hogh andersen x reader #ivar fanfic #ivar x y/n #vikings fluff

[starogeorgina]

Redemption

Warning: Swearing, oral sex

Pairing: Ivar × reader

1.02

“Once we lure them into position, I’ll give you the signal, then you’ll light the bastards up—Ivar stop,” you laugh, feeling his hands roam over your body. “I’m trying to help you plan a war.”

“I’m aware.”

“It’s difficult to concentrate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Ivar smirks, kissing your neck. He continues to squeeze at your breasts over your dress. His two favourite things were fucking and fighting, so talking battle strategies was hard for im. Ivar begins kissing your neck, leaving purple marks as a way of reminding others that you are his. “I’m not doing anything you don’t like.”

You turn your head and kiss him. Your lips linger as your mind begins to race with a thousand thoughts. It hadn’t been long since you lost your baby, and you hadn’t been intimate since.

Ivar rubs his finger along your cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say, kissing him again. “I want you, Ivar. I want you to do more things I like.”

He tilts his head to the side and gives you a small smile. Ivar smooths your hair out of your face, and the gaze in his eyes somehow brought you comfort; it was as if he was looking deep into your soul and knew what you were thinking. “I will not rush you, Drifa,” he says. “But I know something we can do, something we both like.”

Seeing the mischievous look on his face, you raise your brows and ask, “What's that?”

—

Ivar smirks in amusement as the sword in your hand rests at the top of his neck. He says, “You fight dirty; I’ve taught you well.”

You toss your sword to the side, pick up two axes, and hand one to Ivar. He told you that non-Viking armies didn’t see women as much of a threat; he wanted you to prove them all wrong. Ivar took great pride in coaching you in sword fighting, throwing spears, and aiming your bow and arrow.

“Perhaps one of my brothers will spar with you later.”

You pull a face and say, “Ubbe or Hvitserk. Last time I sparred with Sigurd, your mother was mad at me for hurting him.”

With a boyish smile on his face, Ivar says, “You knocked his front tooth out; it was a wonderful thing to witness.”

You’d always hated Sigurd and the way he treated Ivar and his mother. You think back to that day and how you and Sigurd got into a fight because he kept insulting your dead parents. At first, his brothers laughed until the first blood was drawn. You feel awful thinking about Hvitserk trying to separate you and accidentally backhanding him.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice Ivar talking to you until he places his hand on your waist. “What are you thinking about?"”

“The time I burst Hvitserk lip.”

“Hvitserk adores you.” Ivar throws his axe, which hits the mark on the tree. “So do Ubbe and Bjorn. As did my mother.” Ivar takes the other axe from your hand and repeats the action, hitting the mark perfectly again. “Sigurd is scared of you because he is weak and knows he cannot compete.”

“Have I told you recently how much I love you?”

Ivar blushes. “No, but I never tire of hearing it.”

You kiss him on the cheek before going to retrieve the axes so you can continue throwing them. You continue training until the sun begins to disappear behind the clouds and the sky quickly becomes dark as the weather changes quickly.

The rainfall is heavy, causing the mud to splash up onto Ivar’s face and neck while he dragged his body along the ground as you headed home. Seeing the pain in Ivar’s face, you suggest taking shelter from the rain underneath a large tree. You sink down beside Ivar and lean your head on his shoulder.

You sit in silence until Ivar lets out a deep breath and asks, “Why doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?”

“Being married to a cripple.”

You roll your eyes. Every time Ivar felt self-consciousness, he would question why anyone loved him. His insecurity became worse when his brother told him; nobody loved him, and everyone felt sorry for him. “I’ve told you to stop listening to Sigurd.”

“It’s true, though; I am a cripple. And my weaknesses are your weaknesses.”

“Your legs aren’t a weakness, Ivar. They are your greatest strength. People will always underestimate a cripple.”

Ivar opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off with a kiss. You brush your nose against his as you straddle his lap, careful not to put too much pressure on him. The feral look in Ivar’s eyes sparks something inside you; all you wanted was for him to devour you. “You are Ivar the boneless, the strongest and most violent man I’ve ever met.”

Ivar grips your jaw with a devilish glint in his eyes. “You think I’m violent?”

“I think you're the most bloodthirsty Viking to ever exist.”

“Stand up.”

Following his order, you stand up. Seeing Ivar lower his trousers so his cock can spring free, you pull up the bottom of your dress. He grins, clasping his hands around your thighs. Ivar brings you in closer so he can put his mouth on your aching core. You let out a moan when you fell his warm tongue swipe over your folds before turning his attention to your clit.

“Mmmm.. Ivar, just like that,” you encouraged, “please don’t stop!”

He sucks and flicks his tongue on your abused clit, speeding up his actions until you cum, legs shaking around his head. When you come down from your high, you kneel down and twirl your tongue over the head of Ivar’s hard cock before taking him full into your mouth. He uses one hand to grip your hair, while Ivar uses the other to pinch your nipple, as Drool dribbles down your chin while you bob your head. Tears roll down your cheeks as you gag, feeling his cock start to jolt in your mouth. Ivar tightens his grip as spurts of hot cum shoot down your throat.

He grunts, “Swallow all of it like a good wife.”

Sitting up, you wipe the saliva away with the back of your hand. Ivar shuffles to put his cock back into his trousers. You kiss the palm of Ivar’s hand when he cups your face. “We should get back; it’s almost time for supper, and we both need to bathe.”

—

You take another mouthful of ale as your eyes jump between the brothers sitting around the table. There was a weird atmosphere, and you were trying to figure out why. Ubbe and Ivar feasted, laughed, and drank ale while Hvitserk looked nervous. He kept glancing at Sigurd, who had been smirking most of the night. When you returned, you had bathed and changed into a clean dress, while Ivar remained in the same mud-covered clothes. The only reason his hands were free from dirt was because he washed your back and hair.

Sigurd suddenly burst out laughing, gaining the attention of his brothers. “Do you all remember when Margrethe said Ivar couldn’t pleasure a woman? Well, today I found out that’s not true.”

You and Ivar look at each other and ask, “What?”

“Me and Hvitserk were coming back from a hunt and saw-”

“I did not look,” Hvitserk says quickly, not letting his brother finish his sentence. You patted the back of his hand; although he was a menace at times, Hvitserk was respectful and would never deliberately watch such a thing.

“Enough,” Ubbe says. “We will hear no more of this.”

Sigurd ignores his elder brother and continues talking. “I’m just sharing that I’m happy for Ivar. At least it can finally put the rumors of Drifa carrying another man’s child to rest.”

“It was you who told others that!”

He shrugs. “I stand corrected; I can tell others I know Ivar gets hard because I caught you with his dick in your mouth.”

Ubbe and Hvitserk stare at him, unimpressed.

Tears of embarrassment swell in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You glance at your husband to see his reaction to his brother's taunting. Ivar peels the last bit of meat from the bones of his meal off with his teeth, then tosses the bare animal bone onto the table. “What kind of man talks about his brother's wife in that way?”

The amused smile drops from Sigurd’s face, “I’m—”

“I swear to the gods that if I ever hear you talk about my beautiful Drifa in such a way again, brother, you’ll leave me no other choice but to kill you.”

The room falls silent as Ivar’s threat lingers in the air. Sigurd looks to his brothers, but when neither of them say anything, he storms off, leaving the rest of you to enjoy the remainder of your night.

#vikings #ivar x reader #ivar x you #redemption #ivar fanfic #ivar the boneless/reader #ivar the boneless x you #vikings smut #vikings x reader #vikings fanfiction #vikings ivar #Ivar #ivar the boneless smut #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar smut #ivar the boneless x reader #Ivar/you #ivar the boneless fanfic

[deceitfuldevout]

Play Me a Tragedy

Dark!Ivar x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +2416

Warning(s): +18, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Mentions of past non con, Raiding, Forced pregnancy.

Author's Note(s): Y'all should know by now I'm all for the dramatics.

You and your husband, King Ivar, have been invited to a play. Accompanied by your children to celebrate your wedding anniversary. Filled with entertainment, games, and a feast. But it wasn't just any day, no. This was the day your entire world fell apart. When you were taken from your home, and everyone you loved. All to celebrate what was you considered to be the worst day of your life.

There had been stories told throughout the feast. Every last one of them stroked your husband's never-ending ego. Within only a few years, Ivar had gained a large mass of devoted followers who were willing to die for him and his cause. With that kind of power given to a mad man such as himself, of course it would go to his head.

Ivar convinced the people of Kattegat of his new world order. That if they follow him and him only would they achieve Valhalla. It was more a cult if anything. He made his people believe that you were his very own 'deity'. He claimed that you were made especially for him by the gods. That the two of you were destined for one another, as a way for Ivar to justify his actions. Even after being given the title of 'Queen', you had no say in politics. You were a glorified broodmare. There wasn't a single day that passed where Ivar wouldn't claim ownership over you. He would dress you himself in the finest silks and jewels during the day. By nigh. he would ravage you until the morning.

After the birth of your first child, you had finally broken. Willingly following his orders, knowing that there would be no one else to protect you and your child. Ivar was glad to claim you were finally his. Body and soul. Now proven with his cub. He would remind you everyday to be grateful that it was him who found you first. In his own words, "Who knows how it would end with any other man, this is what's best for you.", That you should be thanking him. Deep down you knew if it were another warrior, they'd tear you apart. After all, it was your husband's status that gave you access to such a luxurious life. A gilded cage fit for a queen.

Today he was obnoxiously louder than usual. His voice booms throughout the dining hall. The entertainers had saved the best story for last. 'A Tale of a Fallen Kingdom.' they called it. There were actors in costume to represent Ivar and his warriors. It only took a moment to realize which day they were reenacting.

The narrator clears his voice before beginning, "Five years ago, to this day..." he states, "King Ivar and his men visit a Kingdom, untouched by war and plague." it was then when the crowd decided to spew their distaste towards your people. Spewing insults and curses at your country's flag. Your brows furrow as your eyes widen. Had that much time really pass? Surely it hadn't been that long...it felt as though you'd been 'married' for almost a decade. But then again only a year with Ivar felt like forever.

It was almost unreal how accurate their clothes were. It had been a while since you'd seen someone dressed in your people's clothes. From the stage setup, to the costume design. It was like a memory had been extracted and put on display. You tear up at the sight of it. Truly missing your home more than ever. Part of you wasn't sure your family were still alive. There was a young maiden dressed in modest clothing. Not just any garb no, it was specifically designed for a lady in waiting. A title you were given from being the general's daughter. There your character stood, following the other meek women of the royal court.

You were portrayed as a ditzy, clumsy little thing. Who couldn't fend to save her life. Scoffing at the display, you turn to face Ivar who had found it all amusing. You roll your eyes. Did he truly find this mockery entertaining? It was obviously a political tool. Then your mind began racing. Was this truly how the people of Kattegat view you? That you were willing to betray your own people so easily. All to become Ivar's own personal whore. Your blood began to boil. This wasn't a love story but a tragedy. The young man dressed as Ivar lets out a triumphant laugh. Your counterpart had depicted you as an absolute moron, who craved the attention of a man that would give a second glance.

You scoff at the display. Out of all your ladies in court, you were the most educated. That's how you captured Ivar's interest. He had been fascinated by your intelligence. It was rare for women in your kingdom to seek an education, let alone willingly. Your parents supported you furthering your studies alongside the men. No one would question their general's only child.

Ivar used to sneak in a few pieces of literature for you to read. The next time he summoned you was for a game of chess. To his surprise you'd beaten him, his entire demeanor had shifted. He partially blames himself for underestimating a woman of these lands. But then again, not many were educated here. It was at the moment where his final decision was made, he had to have you.

Soon enough the audience follows with boisterous laughs. 'Ivar' releases his crutches before making an exaggerated dive for the woman. She squeals, "No no~you handsome heathen!" squealing as the man began to 'ravage' her. You felt a deep pit of despair, falling ill at the sight of their performance. Ivar on the other hand, was ecstatic. He indulged in the portrayal of himself, covering the growing smirk behind his cup. As the narrator continues, "How will the poor maiden survive such a world?" announcing it to the crowd.

It was then when the women clings onto 'Ivar' as if her life depended on it, "Please! King Ivar! Take me! Take me away from this boring life! Make a woman of me!" the woman boasts as she rips her blouse open, "I'm yours!" She lifts her skirts in a seductive manner. You felt sick to your stomach. This is not what happened, not at all. You had a life, a family that you were taken from.

You remember clawing at his face, hard enough to break skin. Ivar hisses from the sting. He lifts your shoulders and slams you against the ground. You felt dizzy from the impact. Air escaping your lungs as you cough to catch breath. Your vision blurs for a moment before realizing he'd already ripped through your blouse. He skillfully cuts through the garment, lifting your skirts to make way.

You despised Ivar's efforts at keeping a heroic image in public. Angry tears fell down your face. Because you, of all people, knew the truth. You have scars to bear with. From the leather bindings that burned into your wrists during that cursed wedding night, to the following months after. How he'd bound you to bed like an animal, until he was sure you were with child.

Ivar chuckles at your eldest son's discomfort. Seeing his parents being depicted as very passionate lovers. He rubs his head, "Someday you will also become a man." causing the four year old to gag. Ivar doesn't wince when your second born sits on his lap. She adores her father. Of course it was easy being the apple of his eye, and at times, she uses it to her advantage.

Every time you'd scold her, she'd run into her father's arms. You on the other hand despised his efforts at keeping a heroic image. When it was clear as day he was not to be trusted. The same hands that held your daughter close, were used to slaughter hundreds.

Seeing such a mockery being displayed to your children made your heart shatter. Tears began to trickle as you sob in silence. Your daughter notices and leaves her father to comfort you. Ivar is too absorbed into the play to pay attention. He lets out a boastful laugh, clutching his sides as the crowd roaring continues. It was during the king's coronation when the Northmen attacked.

Ivar and his men raided the other surrounding kingdoms. As a peace offering they were invited to the ceremony. Little did your leader know what sinister actions would play out. Ivar and the young king had been in talks for a peace treaty.

You held your girl close, shielding her from the next scene. It was the day he had taken you.

You and the other maidens just so happened to pass by the dining hall. It was at that moment when Ivar swore time itself had stopped. He had been mesmerized by your presence. You, a noble maiden had captured the heathen king's heart.

For the entire evening he hadn't cared for anyone's attention but yours. Ordering you to halt everything to give the King your attention. His obsession was obvious to everyone but you. He followed you around like a love-sick puppy. To the point where the King himself appointed you as his foreign advisor.

Ivar had tried everything to woo you. From the promises of riches, to land, to the title of noblewoman. All of which you politely declined. Stating that you were happy with you life the way it was. Part of you knew he wouldn't stop until you gave him the attention he so desperately craved. So much so that he decides to take matters into his own hands.

Suddenly the stage began to erupt with an array of ribbons thrown into the air. To symbolize the arrows lit aflame. Flashes of that night came to you in small doses. You're no longer in Kattegat but now residing in your kingdom, before it was burned to the ground. You could see what was once your home, burning right before your very eyes. Hearing the echoes of your people's screams. The day your life changed forever.

There Ivar was, crawling towards you as you ran for the door. "Help! Help me! Someone please!" you ran as fast as you could. The gates began to close. There was not a moment to waste. You ran because your life depended on it. But it was too late, the guards on the other side began to pull harder for the gate to close. Soon enough it had shut.

You slam it as hard as you can. Until your fists began to bruise, "Please! Someone help me! I'm the commander's daughter! Please!" taking a breath loud enough so that they can hear you, "Don't leave me!" sobbing against the metal doors. As you turn around to find Ivar had caught up with you. He grins from ear to ear covered in blood from the fallen soldiers. With a look in his eyes that said: You're mine.

On the other side of the border your father and his men fought to defend the kingdom's last line of defense. "Sir!" a solider ushers for your father, who scolds him, "Not now boy!" he swings his sword at a heathen climbing the walls. But the man insists, "It's your daughter." causing the general to halt, "What is it boy?!"

"She's missing."

"What has happened?!"

"She left for the market this morning."

Those words alone made his blood run cold, "No..." It was that day when your father had made the ultimate sacrifice. Either let the gates down and weaken the kingdom's last defense, or lose his only child. Soon enough, Ivar had already reached the gates, halting his army from furthering. He demands to speak with your father to make a deal, “General, will you let me wed your daughter?”

He scowls at such a command, “When it rains fire.”

Ivar hums, nodding at the man's proclaim, “So let it be.” He raises his arms in the air, signaling for his warriors to shoot. Hundreds of arrows are lit aflame and shot into the sky. It took three days and nights until your kingdom had finally surrendered. Ivar had won. Your kingdom had lost.

This was the ‘Great love story’ of King Ivar and his queen. Your remember the pain and betrayal felt was immeasurable. Those strong feelings from years ago all came down at once. Like something inside of you had finally tipped over. You finally reach your breaking point, bowing your head in shame. Crying to yourself as your daughter tries her best to comfort you. But her soft heart could no longer take the sight of her mother weeping, as she wraps her arms around you and cries.

It catches the attention of your husband. It was then when his mood had shifted. He couldn’t help but feel like a deep pit had been dug in his belly. Ivar swishes the ale in his mouth, swallowing it as if it were bitter.

He sighs, standing up from his seat, “Halt!” he commands. The room goes silent. There isn’t so much as a whisper. Ivar gathers the actors, lining them up in a row for interrogation. He orders the guards to bring the writer responsible for the play. Soon enough, a timid man is put on stage. It was then when you had to beg your husband to spare his life. Ivar lets out a huff, "You should be thanking my wife for sparing you. Don't let it happen again." with that the celebration had come to an end.

You left as fast as you could. Sending your children off to their rooms before returning to your dreadful marital chambers. You ready yourself for bed, hoping that Ivar would return much later. When you hear his footsteps approaching you don't bother to look him in the eye. You help your husband remove his leg braces; since he's only ever let you do it.

When the two of you are finally in bed, Ivar reaches for your waist. He wraps his arms around your body as he held your bodies together. He presses his nose against the top of your hair, whispering, "It was the gods who led me to you my love..." he sighs, breathing in your scent. He hums, "The healers have already informed me." he brushes his hand flat against your mid drift. He feels for the swell of your under belly, one of his favorite things to do. If he could stay like this forever, he would. Ivar reassures you with soft whispers, "There there my love, it is in the past..." as he gently wipes the tears away, cooing as you cried the rest of the night in his arms.

#dark!ivar #dark!ivar the boneless x reader #dark!ivar lothbrok #dark!ivar ragnarsson #dark!ivar the boneless #dark fanfiction #dark!fanfic #dark!fic #reader #reader insert #dark fanfic #fem!reader #dark fic #dark!fanfiction #my work

[woahhhgwendolyn]

Ivar Asking You To Be His Would Include

-When Ivar first saw you, he knew that he had loved you. He has also never really been the guy to be too shy around people. But whenever you were around, he was so nervous even when he wasn't talking to you directly.

-He just was so enamored by you when you came into the room that he just did not know how to speak. Especially even know how to talk to you.

-His brothers had noticed his new behavior once you were around and had connected the dots just a little bit.

-After his brothers had noticed this change in behavior because of a woman they had all started to tease him a little bit because of it. Of course, Ivar had gotten mad at them whenever they made fun of him.

-They would also tell him that if he had liked you that much then he just go talk to you and try to get to know you better.

-He had always just let that go though because he was just so nervous to go and talk to you.

-After a while though you had started to catch on to Ivar having a bit of a crush on you and so you had started to make little gestures here and there whenever you would see him.

-Whenever you would make these small gestures to him, he would get really nervous and happy all at the same time.

-After a while he had started to talk to you more and be with you more as well too. His brothers had noticed this and had told him to just ask you to be his already.

-After a couple of weeks after he had first started to talk to you, he had finally asked you to be his and of course you had said yes.

#norway #scandanavia #viking #vikings #imagines #nordic #vikings headcanon #vikings imagines #vikings fandom #norse #norsk #vikings series #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #history channels vikings #vikings tv #vikings fanfiction #vikings fic #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #vikings ivar #scandanavian

[jadelynlace]

Either #12 or #21 from the smut list (but if you pick #21 can you make it fluff as well please?)

Thank you!

Hi anon. #21 is the bathtub one, which has already been requested twice in different context, and it will be up soon.

But #12: “It’s 4am, how are you still horny?” just screams Ink Ivar. Screams.

Through the snap of his hips, the creak in the bed, and Ivar’s heavy panting in your ear, you knew the night wouldn’t end quickly. It was as if your sole existence and only breathing was enough to make him pitch a tent. He came on to you when he got home, pushing you up against the wall as he held onto your chin to get his fill of your lips. Once you were dizzy from the kiss, you caught up with yourself as he backed you into the bedroom.

Through the take-out in bed; clacking of chop sticks as you lay against him as you eat your fill of Thai food; his right arm slung around you to keep your naked body pressed against his. He came back on to after throwing the garbage away, after your eyes watched his naked back, traced the tattoos and the swell of his ass. It was slower this time, filled with teeth and tongue and slipping out in the last final seconds to come on you.

By midnight you were spent; hips that ached after your rode him. Watching his jaw tighten as you bounced, his abs quiver as he filled you up again. But something had set of a fire inside of him and he was still after you.

“I’m just content if I get to rub your back,” Ivar hums against your hair and if you had just met him, you might have fallen for it. Might have.

“That’s my ass, not my back,” You correct with lips plastered against his chest. Ivar’s only response is a snort from his nose as his fingers fondle, grabbing your backside roughly before a clap echos back through the bedroom. “The neighbors are going to hate us,”

“They’re asleep,” Ivar replies.

“Not with how loud you are,” You mumble. Dragging your leg in your favor, you push your weight through your knee and attempt to move, climb off of him but he frowns. “Ivar, I’m sticky and I want to shower,”

“Let’s shower,” Ivar says, starting to rise through limbs that creak and you put your hand in the middle of his chest and push him back towards the duvet.

“Alone,” You say sternly. The thought goes around Ivar’s head but makes no evidence of even getting close to his brain. “Ivar,” And his eyes flick from your chest to your face.

“Hm?”

“It’s 4am, how are you still horny?”

“Uh…” Ivar trails off. “I’m Scandinavian?”

find the full prompt list here!

more ink drinker here!

#vikings #vikings au #modern vikings #vikings fanfiction #modern vikings au #vikings smut #ivar #ivar au #modern ivar #modern ivar smut #ivar smut #vikings ivar #ivar lothbrok fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar lothbrok #ivar lothbrok smut #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar x you #modern ivar x you #ivar x reader #modern ivar x reader #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )

[aikaterini-drag]

Behold, the fierce Harald, draped in fur, a warrior's warmth amidst the cold winds of the North! 🌬️🛡️❄️

#vikings #vikings valhalla #vikings: valhalla #vikings harald #vikings ivar #vikings fanfiction #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x heahmund #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson #vikings ubbe #harald finehair #harald fairhair #harald sigurdsson #harald hardrada #prince harald sigurdsson #leif x harald #harald x reader #leo suter

[miss-madness67]

At Dawn

Ivar The Boneless

Prompt: Homesickness and soft Ivar.

For the first three months, you cry at night. There is no way to explain it other than the homesickness you feel crawling up your insides. You don’t want to be here, you never asked to be here. Your father had an unfinished debt with King Ragnar, so he gave him the only thing of value he had; you. At first, you were meant to be a thrall in the service of the rulers, but the youngest prince took a liking to you, and considering that your father used to be an Earl, you were deemed acceptable to become his wife. And thus, you married.

“Wife of mine, what troubles you tonight?” Ivar’s soft voice breaks your line of thought. His rough hand trails from your elbow to your shoulder before he turns you around in bed and pulls you to him. You used to wake up with a damp pillow every morning, Ivar would notice every single time. He never mentioned it, but he also never tried to set you free.

Despite the odd beginnings, you’ve come to love your husband, and you like to believe the feeling is mutual. “Same as always, my love.”

He considers your words; you know he doesn’t like when you feel down thinking about the past. “This is your home now, you can have anything you want, you know that, right?”

You do. “I’m just thinking about my family and what they did.” Because as much as Ivar boughtyou, your family sold you.

“You don’t need them anymore, if a family is what you desire…” he hesitates, “I will do my best to give it to you, wife.” You both know the rumor of his incapability is completely mistaken. Still, you’re also aware that Ivar is scared of having children out of fear they will resemble him in disability. The fact that he’s willing to try speaks about his love.

“Truly?” His blue eyes are full of sincerity and insecurity. You want to crush everything that makes him uncertain, like he quells your nightmares.

The first three months you cry at night, but the next three decades you smile at dawn.

#fanfiction #ivar vikings #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x you #vikings fic #vikings #vikings imagines #fanfic #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar lothbrok

[bxwitched]

Captive - Part 4

Warnings: Explicit 18+ only, please read at your own risk. Noncon / dubcon, slavery, manipulation, sexual content, violence, descriptions of wounds and blood.

Character Pairing: King!Ivar the Boneless x Slave!Reader

Summary: You find yourself a captive of Ivar the Boneless.

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: I finally found the inspiration to continue this fic after a whole year. Comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.

You stirred as cold fingertips traced along your leg, a large callused hand smoothing shapes over soft the flesh, waking you from your dream. You kicked out at the explorative touch, making a sound of displeasure as Ivar caught your ankle in his firm grip and snickered in amusement.

"It is time to get up, Valkyrie." You groaned, burrowing your face further into the furs.

"Leave me be, King. Let me sleep." He huffed at you from his perch at the end of the bed and you gasped in surprise as he leaned forward and snatched your leg from beneath the blankets, jostling you as he hitched it over his broad shoulder. His icy eyes locked with yours as he pressed a slow kiss to the side of your knee.

You tried to ignore the heat simmering in your belly as his lips brushed against the sensitive flesh, leaving fire in their wake. His intense gaze bore down into you and flashes of the night before came rushing back; the way that Ivar had looked at you as you had taken control of him and used him for your pleasure.

You had behaved no better than a common whore, desperate for the gratification that his body could offer and you felt your cheeks heat at the memory, your stomach twisting into knots.

You leaned back on your elbows and studied Ivar, he was already dressed in his light armour; with his axe fixed to his hip, his knives stowed at his waist, and metal braces in place on his legs. You didn't have time to wonder what his plans for the day were before he brought you out of your thoughts, his breath tickling your soft skin as he spoke.

"I thought that you would be eager to see your little mouse, Valkyrie. But if you would rather remain in bed-" His voice was teasing and you bolted upright, wrenching your leg back from his grip as you looked at him with narrowed eyes, suspicious.

"You will allow it?" He nodded once, his bright eyes fixated on you.

"You have been good for me, haven't you? Torsten is waiting outside to escort you." You tried and failed to hide your excitement as you stood from the bed and rushed to get dressed. Ivar's lips tilted up at the corners and his eyes remained glued to your form as he watched you ready yourself for the day, beguiled by you.

As you walked the streets of Kattegat you had quickly learned that Torsten was not a talkative man; he was tall and well-built with short hair, shorn at the sides and a dark beard. He was more of a mountain than a man, clearly battle hardened and you had no doubts that he was one of Ivar's finest warriors. 

You travelled in silence, trying to ignore the stares of the townspeople as you passed through the busy market, some offered you looks of pity, whilst others flashed you looks of distaste. You couldn't decipher the hushed words and low whispers that were spoken, but you imagined that it was gossip of the king's newest toy, his foreign concubine. 

You wondered how many there were before you and what words were spoken of them, whether they were also from Eire or from lands further afield. 

Torsten came to a stop when you neared a large barn and gestured you in ahead of him. You entered the dimly lit space hesitantly, mindful of the other thralls as they bustled around, readying for their tasks of the day.

You eyes flitted through the crowd of women, searching for the head of golden hair when a weight suddenly barrelled into you, taking your breath and nearly knocking you backwards as a smaller figure clung tightly to your waist.

Alva sobbed against you, her tears staining the richly-dyed fabric of your dress, 'a gift' Ivar had said, 'wear it for me'.

"I thought- I though that I would never see you again-" You hushed the younger girl as she cried, hiccuping as she tried to form words between her gasped breaths and tears.

"I'm here, Alva. All is well." You rubbed her back with one hand and stroked her hair with the other as she slowly calmed and managed to steady her breathing once more.

She looked up at you with glassy eyes, deep emerald irises that she had inherited from her mother's side. 

"Come." You took her hand in yours and lead her away from the barn, down to the waterfront where it was quieter, calmer. You both walked in silence along the waters edge, taking in the warmth of the sun on your face and the sound of the waves as they lapped gently at the shore. Torsten followed behind,  giving you just enough distance to speak privately, a courtesy you hadn't expected from the warrior.

Alva sobbed against you, her tears staining the richly-dyed fabric of your dress, 'a gift' Ivar had said, 'wear it for me'.

"I thought- I though that I would never see you again-" You hushed the younger girl as she cried, trying to form words between her gasped breaths and tears.

"I'm here, Alva. All is well." You rubbed her back with one hand and stroked her hair with the other as she slowly calmed and steadied her breathing.

She looked up at you with glassy eyes, a deep, rich emerald that she had inherited from her mother's side.

"Come." You took her hand and lead her away from the barn and down to the waterfront. You both walked along the waters edge, your shoes sinking slightly into the damp sand as Torsten followed behind you at a distance, giving you enough space speak privately. It was a courtesy you hadn't expected from the warrior but appreciated immensely. 

"Where did they take you?" Your heart wrenched at the concern and fear in her shaking voice.

"They took me to the king." Alva's face paled, her eyes widening further. She looked akin to a doe in the forest, startled by a waiting hunter in the trees.

"Ivar the boneless." Her fear was evident now, her eyes moving over your body franticly. "What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

"No Alva, I'm fine." Your stomach twists at that and you let out a deep sigh, your shoulders sagging slightly. She was six summers younger than you but she was naive for her age, fragile. She wasn't hardened like you, she was innocent and she couldn't begin to understand the complexities of your situation.

She was a lamb amongst wolves and you knew that you had to do everything you could to protect her, even if it meant being the king's whore.

"King Ivar has taken me as his and so long as I am good to him, useful to him, our safety is guaranteed here. We may be thralls here but we are alive Alva, and we are protected. That is all that matters." She chewed her lip nervously and her worried gaze dropped to the floor.

"I have heard things, whispers from the other girls.." You stopped and crouched down to her level, ignoring the cold water that seeped into the hem of your gown as you searched her face with questioning eyes.

"What things?"

"They talk about the king, they say that he is a great warrior, that he is favoured by the gods and has never lost a battle. But-"

"Go on, Alva." You insisted as she shifted her weight nervously.

"They say that because of his legs, he cannot please a woman. He has hurt slave girls and threatened to kill them if they speak of it. They talk of a woman called Margarette, they say he strangled her."

Your eyes lowered to the sand and you nodded your head solemnly, you would not be surprised by such things given your experience of Ivar's volatile nature. You returned to your full height and forced a small smile, one you hoped would reassure the young girl.

"Come along, let us enjoy the water a little longer."

Torsten allowed you to spend a few hours with Alva, soaking up the warmth of the sun and the feel of the salty ocean breeze before telling you that it was time to return to the Hall.

Alva was unhappy to leave you and return to the thrall house but she finally relented when you reassured her that you'd be okay with a soft smile and promised that you would see her again soon.

You were almost back at the Hall when you heard your new moniker being called in the distance and turned to see Hvitserk making his way towards you.

"Valkyrie!" The man was completely different to Ivar, not only in his physical appearance but in his demeanour; whilst Ivar was impassive and unpredictable, Hvitserk was open and seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve.

He grinned widely at you as he rested on the fence of the training ground, his hair mussed and cheeks red from sparring.

"I see my brother has finally let you spread your wings." You huffed at his jest and moved to rest against the fence beside him, watching as Ivar's men fought each other with vigour, the sharp clashes of steel and crashes of shields heavy in the air.

"They are fine warriors. Though not as fine as you I'm sure.." Hvitserk raised an eyebrow at your taunt, his grin widening as mischief danced behind his eyes.

"You told me that you were a fighter, Valkyrie. Perhaps I wish to see it for myself." You raised your chin slightly, your eyes narrowing in playful challenge.

"My father always believed that I possessed enough fury to rival that of a berserker, maybe we should test that." The blonde man's eyes flashed in delight and he held a hand out to you, helping you over the wooden fence and into the training arena, ignoring Torsten's protests and silencing the larger man with a raised hand.

"Hand me a sword, Ragnarsson." He passed you a short-sword, lighter than you had used before but well-balanced and finely made. Hvitserk opted for a larger sword, heavier and better matched for his larger frame.

"Don't worry, Valkyrie. I will go easy on you." You scoffed, watching as his grin widened and his eyes changed, the mossy green growing darker with his building battle-lust.

You watched his feet, anticipating his initial attack and dodged each skilful slash of his sword. You moved in time with him, keeping up with the prince despite your heavy dress weighing down your movements.

You grinned as you blocked several of the beserker's attempted hits. Hvitserk's expression was positively wild and the fight between you became more intense the more you challenged him.

He barely managed to block your attack to his torso and you grinned as he growled in irritation. You were so focused, until your name was shouted from the fence line.

Your head turned for no more than a second but it was enough time for Hvitserk to land a hit, successfully slicing a line of crimson across your forearm. You gasped as the flesh stung and you clutched at the wound as the blood began to seep from it, running down your skin and dripping into the dirt beneath your feet.

Hvitserk froze, his face dropping into one of remorse as he realised what he had done, then one of uneasiness when he noticed Ivar stalking towards you both with his men in tow. His face was stony but his sapphire eyes gave away his rage, they were practically glowing as he glared at both of you.

"What do you think you are doing, hm?" His voice was level, an unnerving contradiction to the storm brewing behind his eyes. He turned on Hvitserk then and the older Ragnarsson visibly tensed. "I suppose that this was your idea, brother?"

You were quick to speak up, stepping in front of Hvitserk to shield him from Ivar's wrath. Although he had been the one to challenge you to spar, you had been just as willing. He hadn't meant to injure you and you had enjoyed the rush of it, the freedom.

Despite being your master's kin Hvitserk had been civil to you during your time in Kattegat, amiable even. From what you had witnessed he seemed to be a decent man and you didn't feel that he deserved to be reprimanded for your poor choices.

"It's not his fault, my King. I challenged him to fight, if you are to punish anyone then it must be me."

"Is that so?" Ivar tilted his head at you with a raised brow and you nodded, his face said everything his words did not. This is not over.

He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth and nodded once, his jaw tensed.

"Very well, Torsten will take you back to our chambers." He dismissed the larger warrior with a wave of his hand and turned to face Hvitserk, fixing him with a false smile that left no room for argument. "Brother, you will go and fetch the healer. And the next time that you wish to fight? I suggest that you find a different opponent."

@wittysunflower​ @heavenly1927​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @that-virgo-witch​ @helleiaiwritting @the-king-of-kattegat-ivar @nukyster-blog @ietss @belladaises @victoria-styles

#ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #vikings ivar #ivar x you #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless x you #ivar the boneless fanfic #hvitserk ragnarsson #vikings fanfiction #history vikings #vikings series #vikings tv show #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #x reader #non con #dub con #dubious consent #angst #ao3 writer #hvitserk lothbrok #king!ivar x reader

[fictionalmenplz]

Never In A Thousand Years

Summary: Camille, younger sister to princess Gisla of France, you thought you would have time to choose a suitor but once your sister is married to the wild Viking Rollo, your father wishes to speed up the process and Rollo comes up with an idea that could possibly join the two kingdoms...

This will have more than one chapter I don't know how many yet I will probably come up with that as I go but expect more than five so far. This will also contain smut but in a few chapters so be patient. 😉

Warnings: violence, language, arranged marriage.

Chapter 1

I was not opposed to marrying a Viking, though Rollo had set my standards high by converting his religion, and dedicating his life to Paris. I knew I would struggle to find a man as good as he turned out to be, but I did not know I would have to marry such a vile man.

The conversation arose one month ago during dinner, everything was normal, Gisla was smitten and father was proud of his judgement, he must have thought himself to be a matchmaker of some sort when he came up with this brilliant sentence; "Gisla, as a woman I'm sure you have needs."

I could have spat my wine in his face to such a statement, how dare he say that, I was doing well on my own thank you. I would then go on to say, "Why do you ask father?" (I am much better at keeping my temper than Gisla.)

"Well, you are near twenty and have not had as much as one suitor that you are interested in," he started and I quirked a brow, insisting he go on. "don't you want a husband?"

"Father," Gisla interrupted and gave me a shocked look. He put his hands up in defense, "I just want my last heir to be happy." I scoffed, "And I assure you I am." I put down my fork and stood up. "Now if you'll excuse me-"

"You are not excused, please sit down." Father said, my mouth hung open and I stood there for a moment, before slowly lowering myself onto the hard wooden chair.

"Forgive me, if this suggestion is wrong but, what if Camille, were to marry one of my nephews?" Rollo questioned from his high horse, who on earth do these men think they are? My father raised his eyebrows and nodded his head.

"That is not an awful idea Rollo." He says and taps his chin, "of course you remember Hvitserk, Camille." The third born child of Ragnar Lothbrok. "He came to request Aid from Rollo-"

"Yes, I remember him." I said through gritted teeth, the boy was just as stubborn as a mule and flirtatious, he acted like a child when he reaches maturity and sees his first woman.

"No, my king, he would not be a good suit for Camille." Rollo said and shook his head. My father turned his head in curiosity, "Then who, pray tell, would be?" Rollo smirked, twirling his fork in his fingers and glancing up at me. "Ivar."

My eyes widened and I shot Rollo a fierce look, "Never, that man is pure evil!" I shouted, father silenced me and took Rollo's suggestion into great consideration. No more than a week later Ivar showed up at the gates.

How he got here so quickly I have no idea, but he stayed for longer. Him and his chosen men occupied the great hall with boisterous dinners and rambunctious games, he had yet won me over, to say the least.

A couple times he had shown up at my chamber step, requesting entrance so we could talk and he could get to know me better, but I had denied many times, all but one.

It was a month before today, our wedding day. He came walking to my room, no crutch, only with the help of his braces which impressed me. He said the same thing as always.

"Hello Camille," he'd give me a longing look, "I was hoping you would let me in tonight." His french was getting very good, I hesitated for a moment and looked him up and down, pulling my robe closer and nodding my head.

"You may come in, Ivar." I said politely and he stepped in as I turned and walked to my balcony. His eyes wandered over my room, my bed, and then slowly up me.

He followed me to the balcony, leaning in the doorway as I rested my hands on the railing, I felt his eyes on me. I will my cheeks to keep their normal color, but his glowing blue eyes make it hard for me to not blush and I look at him angrily.

"What do you want Viking." I pestered and his eyes widened, "I only wanted you to know how beautiful you are," he stated and his lips kept slightly parted. I rolled my eyes, straightening my back and fixing my gaze at the town below us.

"I think you are even more beautiful than Freya." He added, I did not know a lot about the Norsemen's beliefs but I believe Freya was important when it came to how he compared me to her.

"Your words do not fool me." I replied blankly and narrowed my eyes at the moon. He stared confusedly at me for a moment, blinking and trying to piece together the foreign words I had used.

He shook his head, slightly jumping on his braces as he adjusted his stance and hummed for a moment. He lifted a hand and waved a finger, "I only know so much of your language,"

My face contorted in confusion this time and I turned to look at him, "And I will try my hardest to be a good husband to you." He shuffled closer, hesitantly placing a shaky but firm hand on top of mine.

"When we are wed, I will never force anything on you." His face was certain and I could tell he was being truthful, my expression softened my lips tightened together in a sort of awkward smile as I nodded my head.

I took him to my desk, pulling out parchment and pencils. I taught him many words and phrases, and he in return did the same. I learned a chant that many shield maidens call out before wars, and I learned of his triumph against a town called York.

I was impressed to learn that my future husbands victories were earned with his smarts and not his savageness. Eventually the conversation lingered to his legs, he quieted as he spoke and he knocked on the metal braces.

His face would twitch in pain at moments he adjusted to be able to sit more comfortably, my eyebrows twisted in worry as I watched him struggle and I interrupted his sentence.

"Is there a way I might help you? Or ease the pain?" My hand found its way onto his and his head snapped up from the desk, a shocked look as he swallowed, glancing at the braces and then nodding.

"it will only extend my time being here," he said, almost expecting me to immediately change my mind but I persisted and finally got him to seat himself on my bed.

He leaned on the back board and extended one leg, "Please, be careful." He said as he guided my hands onto several latches and knobs that I had to pry and twist.

I finished the first leg and he grunted in pain as it pinched his leg as it opened, I quickly moved the metal aside so his legs could rest comfortably and I finished with the left leg suit.

He leaned forward, rubbing his hands gently over his thighs and calves over his rough pants. I hovered my hands over the other leg, waiting for approval and then putting my hands to work.

I sat next to his legs, my legs folded together modestly in my robe so my slip would not show. After a few minutes he stopped, and I followed. He leaned his head on the back board, sighing and flicking his eyes towards me.

I smiled at him, his lips curling back at me in a sort of childlike smile. We sat there staring at each other for a moment, his hands fidgeting with his straps on his clothes and before I knew it his hands were on my neck.

Not in a demanding, grabby way, in a soft and wanting manner and his lips pressed mine as I leaned in. His nose brushed against mine I smiled against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck as his fell to my waist and he laid me down on my back, laying on top of me and not breaking our kiss.

His hands now traveled up my clothed sides, gripping at the soft material as though he wished it to be my flesh. He bit down on my lip, causing me to grunt and part my lips, allowing his tongue to be pushed inside to explore my mouth.

I tugged at his leather straps over his chest, it puzzled me why Vikings wore such tough material all the time. I kissed him back hungrily, holding my eyes shut as I sunk into the bed with his weight on top of me, it was a comforting and incredibly intimate feeling.

Feeling a man's body holding mine down like a weighted blanket, so much warmth being shared between our bodies that I reached for the tie of my robe, tugging it apart and revealing my thin night gown to air to cool me off.

He seemed to notice the absence of my hands as his face parted from mine and his eyes wandered down my body, the low cut neck and silk material hugged my body like a glove that he seemed to appreciate very much.

He bit his lip, gazing over my body and then pinching his eyes shut, pressing his body against mine again and interlocking our lips. One of his hands now gripped my side, rubbing over the silk and then adjusting his kisses to my jaw and my neck.

I tangled my fingers in his braids, tugging them as he sucked at the flesh of my neck feverishly and harshly. "Ivar..." I moaned and my back arched into him, suddenly so content in the feeling of his warmth on me, I jolted when he rolled over so abruptly.

I sat up quickly, watching as he crawled to his braces on the floor, an angry look on his face as he laid his leg on top. I quickly sat next to him, "let me help-" I tried but was met with his hand on my chest, pushing me away and a firm no shot from his lips.

I stared for a second in shock, waiting for a look or an apology but when he kept his eyes trained on his legs I stood, tying my robe again and sitting on my bed against the back board with my legs tucked to my chest.

I sat there and watched as he snapped the braces onto his legs, it hurt me to see him in so much pain as he rushed it but I knew if I tried to help him again he would push me away.

He hauled himself to his feet and strode out of my room, leaving me sniveling and tucking under my covers, trying to forget the new found bad memory.

That was last night, and today, on top of those frustrating feelings, I was supposed to leave my home forever.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #pagan #norse mythology #fanfiction #smut #paris #ragnar lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson