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axelsagewrites · 11 days

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Hello,

Can you write an ivar x reader where, as a child reader had a crush on ivar and followed him around. He ends up saying mean things about her to his brothers, not realizing she can hear him. He ends up realizing he has feelings for her but she ends up moving away. Years later, she returns, and she's extremely pretty. Ivars hoping to confess how he feels, but his brothers have also noticed how pretty she's become.

Ivar the Boneless*Shy

Pairing: Ivar x f!reader

Word count: 2081

Warnings: being a shy kid, ivar being bullied by his brothers, ivar being mean as a kid, jealousy, ragnarsson brothers hitting on reader, angst fluff

Masterlist here

As the daughter of a Viking warrior and earl you were expected to be tough and ferocious and rambunctious and all other Viking traits. However, at five years old you were shy, timid, and terrified of Kattegat. You were here with your father on ‘business’ and had been practically clinging to the backs of his legs since you arrived.

It was Ragnar who suggested his sons show you around. Ten-year-old Ubbe took charge of that, giving you a tour around Kattegat as you silently nodded along. Eight-year-old Hvitserk and seven-year-old Sigurd couldn’t have cared less you were there so long as you were quiet when following them all around.

Five-year-old Ivar was sceptical at first, being equally as silent as you. Eventually you ended up at the edge of the forest sat beside Ivar as you watched the older three ‘train’ sword fighting with sticks. Ivar was angrily stabbing the dirt with his stick and didn’t even notice when you wondered off. However, he looked with interest when you returned, what looked like a hundred picked flowers in your apron.

You sat back beside him, dumping the flowers on the ground as you began to fashion a flower crown. “What are you doing?” Ivar’s voice made you jump making him mumble, “Sorry,” as he shuffled to see what you were creating.

“Daisy chains,” you told him, and you sat in silence as he watched you turn the hundred little flowers into a perfectly crafted crown. The whole thing was oddly fascinating for Ivar. “How does it look?” you asked as you placed it on your head.

Ivar grinned, “I love it,” and a toothy smile appeared on your face, “what else can you do?”

Soon you began to play games in the dirt, carving tik tac toe into it with the stick he’d been using earlier. You were laughing away so oblivious you didn’t realise the older boys had gotten bored and wandered off till you heard something howl in the distance.

“Where did they go?” you asked panicked.

“They do that sometimes,” Ivar shrugged. He’d gotten used to his brothers’ antics, but he’d been so wrapped up in the game he hadn’t noticed this time, “We’ll be fine, don’t worry,” another howl, “Okay maybe worry a little,”

Unfortunately, still Ubbe had been the one to carry him here. Ivar tried to pull himself along but soon you were trying to pull him through the forest. “I hate this!” he pouted, trying to pull away.

“It’ll be easier if you’re still!” you snapped, pulling his arms harder in frustration. “Wait here,” you dropped him with a huff as you went to grab a fallen branch.

“What are you doing?”

“Use it like a walking stick,” you said, hooking your arm around his back like in a three-legged race.

“This wont work,” he huffed making you glare. Begrudgingly he tried the crutch and a small washed over his face in a few steps. “I’m walking!”

“You’re walking!” you gleefully joined in as you helped him out the Forrest as the sun began to set. More laughter followed you on the way home though you had no idea that Aslaug had already found his brothers and scolded them immensely when she realised, you’d both been left behind. The anger soon washed away as you and Ivar walked into view.

For the next few days, you and Ivar did everything together. You were essentially attached at the hip. One evening while playing inside the Lodbrok’s house due to the storm outside Aslaug called you to the other room to rebraid your now messy hair.

“Bye boys. Bye Ivar,” you grinned before running to join Aslaug, all shyness gone.

“Bye Ivar,” Hvitserk and Sigurd teased, blowing kisses at Ivar.

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“Are you gonna marry her?”

“Please what girl wants to marry a cripple?”

“Have you kissed her yet?” even Ubbe joined in the teasing now and any semblance of calm was soon gone.

“No!” Ivar screeched. “I don’t even like her!”

“You’re right,” Ubbe smirked, “you love her,” more fake kissing noises came from the three of them.

“Do not!” another screech came from him. He hadn’t seen Aslaug stand from the other room to come see what the fuss was all about, nor did he see you by her ankles, “She’s ugly and weird and I hate her!”

“Ivar!” Aslaug’s voice was the only one louder than Ivar’s. You however didn’t even wait before turning on your heels and running out the house into the storm. “No, wait!” Aslaug tried to stop you, but your feet were too fast.

You came burling up to your father, burying your head in his legs sobbing. “I want to go home. I hate it here. I hate it!” and for the rest of your trip which was thankfully only another day you clung to his side again. You vowed as you rode away, you’d never return.

The glares Ivar was getting from his mother could cut glass. “why would she play with you after all those things you said?” she hissed after pulling him aside.

“I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, already on the verge of tears when you refused to play with him all day before leaving, “she wasn’t supposed to hear it,”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have said it,”

Ivar was convinced you’d come back. a week later, maybe a month. Possibly a year. He kept changing the goal post when you never came. He got his hopes up at one point when he saw your father but was disappointed when he realised, you’d been allowed to stay home this time. The more years that passed the more he forgot.

He was shocked when he saw you again in the first time in over a decade. He almost didn’t recognise you at first, but you could say the same about him. You weren’t some shy, meek little girl anymore. You wore an infection smile, you laughed loudly, and you were downright gorgeous. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one to notice.

Its all his brothers had been talking about since you arrived this morning. “I hope mother has them over for dinner tonight,” Hvirserk said as the boys practised their axe throwing, “See if she wants to catch up,” the way he wiggled his brow made Ivar want to throw his axe at him.

Especially when the other two joined in with their agreements. “Please as if you have a chance brother,” Ubbe smirked, flinging the axe and almost hitting the bullseye, “Girl like that needs a real man,”

With a growl Ivar flung his own axe into the bullseye, knocking Ubbe’s out of place in the process before dragging himself away before he sunk his next axe in someone’s eye. “Talk about someone with no chances,” he heard Sigurd laugh as he stalked away.

You didn’t come over for dinner that night like they’d all hoped but rather the next day they saw you in the hall as your fathers celebrated their latest decision to go raiding together. You’d came in later than most and eyes were drawn to you instantly.

“Red is defiantly her colour,” Hvitserk slurred beside him, already several ales in, “I’m going to talk to her,” he tried to stand but Ubbe put a hand on his shoulder.

He pushed him back into his seat, “Brother you’re drunk. You’ll scare her of. Allow me to welcome her,”

“Please if you don’t want to scare her, I should go,” Sigurd joined the protests.

None of them except Ivar whose eyes never left you had noticed you walking straight for them, “Hello boys. Long time no see,” you smiled, even sending a small one to Ivar which made him wonder if you’d forgotten the whole affair.

“Well, well, look who it is,” Ubbe grinned, going in for a hug that made Ivar want to rip his skin off, “You look so different,” he said as he pulled away.

“Good different,” Hvitserk jumped in, “I barely recognised you,”

“I thought you always looked beautiful but now you’re just- “Sigurd rambled as you awkwardly blushed praying for them to stop. “a woman now,”

“Thanks?” you said, glancing down at Ivar, “Ivar,” all he could do was nod in response, scared anything he said would make it worse. “Well, I need to say hello to my family. I’ll see you boys around,” oh gods how he’d fucked this up.

While many were still in the hall drinking there had been a bonfire lit in the village square that Ivar was now staring into blankly. He’d left the festivities a while ago though he knew he wouldn’t be missed. There were a few people sitting around the fire, most with ale in their hands or a woman on their arms being obnoxious. If his legs didn’t hurt, he’d go into the forest to get away from them all.

“Hey,” a small, timid voice came from behind him making him turn. “Can I sit?” it was like you were children again, him permanently silent and you scared to even move.

Ivar nodded before turning back to the fire as you moved to sit beside him. You sat in silence for a few moments, staring into the flames. The fire was a good excuse for why Ivar’s cheeks felt so hot, but he knew deep down it was because of you.

“How have you been- “

“I’m sorry,” the words came spluttering out his mouth before he could think, his head whipping round to face your shocked expression, “For everything I said. I didn’t mean it, but I said it and I hated myself for it,” he paused when you stayed silent, turning back to the flames, “I doubt you even remember it. It was so long ago,”

A moment passed before you spoke even quieter than before, “I remember,” the words made his heart shatter, “I used to hate you,” somehow it broke more.

“And now?”

You turned to him with a small smile, “Now I’m not five anymore,” a smile crept onto his own face, “Besides if I’m to move here ill need someone to keep me company,” you grinned, nudging his knee with your own.

“You’re moving here?” Ivar felt his heart light up as you chuckled, nodding to confirm his glee. Then a sinking feeling hit him, “Did you tell my brothers yet?”

Ivar would be lying if he said the grimace on your face didn’t fill him with joy, “Not yet. You’re the only one of them who looked at my face the whole night,” you chuckled. He laughed but he felt his cheeks tinge pink, “They’re an interesting bunch, ill give them that. also, who’s Margaret?”

“What?” Ivar spluttered as you shrugged.

“Some girls told me to be careful after they saw me talking to Ubbe,”

He couldn’t help laughing a little, “Oh you’ve missed so much,”

“Good thing we’ve got plenty of time to catch up,” you grinned.

For the next week you were inseparable. Attached at the hip almost. It brought a smile to Aslaug face and a grimace to every boy your age. You’d both heard the subtle jabs about your closeness from his brothers, especially Sigurd, but somehow when you would put your hand on his clenched fist under the table, he felt his anger melt away.

You also seemed to be the only one who did not notice his legs. Right now, you were both sat by a tree on the edge of a lake as Ivar stared across the water and you worked daisies into your flower crown. “You’re improving,” he teased, seeing this one was in a much better state than your previous attempts.

“Please, id like to see you try,” you snorted, “You’re too rough to even make one chain,”

“I’m not rough with you,” he defended, and his heart melted at the small smile on your face.

“I know,” there was a breeze in the air, a slight chill that made you huddle closer, and no one else around to ruin the quiet. Ivar didn’t even protest when your head eventually made its way onto his shoulder, and you said nothing when his arm went around yours. For once everything was perfect. Especially when Ivar finally brought up the courage to say what he’d been thinking since the moment you reappeared in his life.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,”

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lavender-romancer · 1 year

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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

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miss-madness67 · 8 months

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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

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collecting-stories · 8 months

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Willow - Ivar the Boneless

Summary: Feast night in Kattegat, some pretty shameless flirting.

A/N: I haven't written vikings in forever but part of this was in my drafts from like, last year and I finally finished it this morning.

TS Anthology Masterlist | Vikings Masterlist

✰ wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark ✰

The lanterns that lined the path from the village to the fjord were lit, glowing a warm orange beneath the ever darkening sky. There were soft sounds of a lyre playing somewhere just beyond your line of sight, settling a trance over the whole of the village as you made your way through smaller parties that gathered outside of the great hall, enchanted by the warm night. Feast nights were always your favorite, less of a formality than a festival or a celebration, you weren't so watched on a feast night as you were other times.

"Have you come to join the dancing?"

Still, there were some whose gaze you never quite seemed to escape. As you addressed the rustling of bushes near your knees, you peered down in the dim light to find Ivar, stakes dug into the ground as he frowned up at you, obviously not amused by the playful teasing.

"Perhaps someone could string me up like those nonsensical dolls they bring to market, wouldn't you enjoy that?" He retorted, thinking of the countless times he'd requested his mother have the man with the marionettes killed. Or punished violently, he wasn't picky.

You bent your knees, squatting down so your butt hovered over the grass, reaching a hand out to stroke Ivar's cheek. He leaned his face into your touch, turning his head just so to brush his lips to your open palm.

"You think I am making fun of you? You forget then, I have felt the way you move against me when we are beneath the furs on your bed my love, there is no dance I long for more." You replied.

Ivar huffed, tilting his head down just enough to nip at your exposed wrist, "now I know you are playing with me." He replied, "I should have you strung up like that marionettes."

When you smiled he couldn't deny the triumphant feeling that gripped his heart, as if some unknown force was saying 'look, you who is so plagued by hideous feelings and darkness, you have made the sun shine in the dead of night'.

"You would enjoy that." You repeated his words back to him, a statement this time and not a question.

Carefully, so that you didn't fall over completely, you stood back up, brushing your hands down the front of your clothing. Ivar watched you as the doors to the great hall sung open and more people filed out, shouting and laughing with each other. The lights inside the building and the ruckus had drawn your attention for a split second but then your gaze was back on Ivar, the soft light of the lanterns shining on his face and illuminating his blue eyes.

"Shall we take our leave?" You asked, sounding somewhat conspiratorial as you watched him.

Despite the informality of the feast, you were certain your parents would notice if you were gone for too long or if you left early. They'd been careful with you ever since you'd come of age, cautious of who took an interest in their youngest child. Though they knew better than to speak out of turn about the disabled son of Ragnar Lothbrok, you could see, and so could most everyone else, that he was not who they wanted you to spend time with. Ivar knew, certainly. He'd seen the disdainful looks but it rarely deterred him. Ivar had always been someone who got exactly what he wanted, whether through temper tantrums, deceit, manipulation, or someone's misguided pity. Still, he looked almost surprised at the suggestion, though it only showed for a split second before he was schooling his expression to a neutral one.

"I thought feast nights were your favorite? Don't you want to celebrate all who have returned from raiding?" He asked, shifting his weight so he could look up at you with more ease.

"Of course I want to," you replied, ignoring the first of his questions, "but I don't think I need anyone in there watching me celebrate your safe return."

Ivar's face flushed up to his ears and you smiled in satisfaction. "You are worse than Loki with your tricks."

"What tricks?" You asked, sitting this time, your legs crossed in front of you and knees brushing against his hands. You leaned forward, your face as close to Ivar's as you could be without touching him, "don't you want to celebrate?"

"What would your father say, hm?" Ivar hummed, secretly thrilled when your hand found its place cradling his face again, your thumb gently stroking his cheek.

"Are you really more interested in discussing my father?" You asked, "when I am famished and have been waiting since the ships first crested the horizon to feast?"

"Were you not just in the great hall?" Ivar questioned, squinting in the dim lantern light so that he could appraise your words.

"I was. You weren't though and I have been eager to sink my teeth into you," you teased, snapping playfully at him.

The flush was back on Ivar's cheeks tenfold, flustered by the very suggestion that you wanted to be with him. It wasn't the first time you and he had laid together. Thank god for that, Ivar thought briefly as you stood again, stepping off the path and back toward the bushes that Ivar had come out of before.

Your first time together had been awkward and slightly painful and he had been embarrassed for some weeks afterward that you would be hesitant to speak to him again, let alone allow him in your bed. Some goddess had blinded you with love or lust or adoration though because you seemed so taken with him from then on that you often sought him out, much to his own excitement. Ivar was just as adoring and in love as you were, if not more. While it was more than true that he got exactly what he wanted all the time, it was always better when he was wanted back.

"Are you coming?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

"Yes. You'll notice it is a bit more difficult to turn around when you're unable to stand up." He grumbled, digging his stakes into the ground as he shifted himself around to follow you.

"Perhaps, but I do so enjoy watching you."

"Humorous is it?" Ivar snapped, missing the way you smiled at his sour disposition.

"Not the word I would use," you replied. "Is a snake in the grass humorous? Or is it beautiful? Dangerous? Exciting?"

"I am a snake now?"

"Oh, most assuredly my love, you are full of venom. Though, I would gladly let you bite me." You teased, watching him as he caught up with you.

"You have not let me yet," he replied, looking far more sour at that remark than at anything else you'd said all night.

"Patience."

He huffed, "I have endured a treacherous ocean, armies of men, illness, injury, near death...and you tell me to have patience?"

"Just for a simple kiss." You replied, as if it was nothing to him, "you have brought riches back with you...surely that means more than a simple kiss."

Ivar tugged your ankle as you stepped closer to him, knocking your legs out from under you and watching with satisfaction as you fell to the ground.

"Ivar!" You laughed, uninjured and no less enamored with him than you had been before. He smiled, devious grin lighting up his features in the dark as he crawled over you, staking the ground over your sleeve so that you couldn't move away from him. "What are you doing?"

"I have no patience," he replied, "I shall have my feast here."

#collecting stories imagine #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless imagines #ivar the boneless x you #ivar the boneless x y/n #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar ragnarsson imagine #ivar the boneless fanfic #ivar the boneless fic #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar lothbrok imagine #vikings imagine #vikings fanfic #vikings fan fiction

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redskull199987 · 2 years

Text

Early Mornings

Ivar the Boneless x female!reader

Word count:1.1k

Warnings:a little bit steamy

Summary: You find yourself in a delightful situation after waking up, but are suddenly interrupted by an unexpected visitor...

Gif by @underragingwaves

Masterlist

Part II

I slowly tried to open my eyes. But it seemed so hard. I was too lazy and the bed too warm.

Finally, my eyes flutterd open and I tried to sit up, but a pair of strong arms encircled my waist. I looked up and smiled.

He seemed so calm. Ivar the Boneless, a man who was almost never calm.

I quietly turned around in his arms and admired his face. The eyes which were usually shining bright blue were now closed. His mouth slightly ajar and his chest rose and fell as he breathed.

Carefully, I let my fingers dance across his jawline. A soft stubble scratched my fingertips.

"I love you", I mumbled, "Ivar the Boneless"

"I love you too, my dear"

That caught me of guard. I tried to pull away, but Ivar was faster. He grabbed my hand, and put it back on top of his cheek.

A smile crept onto his face, as he grabbed my other arm and pulled me even closer to him.

"Ivar-", I protested, but before I could say anything more, his soft lips collided with mine and I let any protests slip past me.

I sighed against Ivar's lips and we parted slightly. I could feel his warm breath on my skin and his blue eyes gazed into mine.

"Ivar", I mouthed against his lips.

He lifted his hand and softly brushed away my hair:"My Y/N"

Ivar slowly put his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. He sighed softly, before looking at me again.

"My Y/N", he whispered again.

I smiled at him and reconnected our lips. I felt Ivar's hands wander to my waist and he pulled me on top of him, while he sat up himself.

I felt Ivar's back hit the headboard, while he pulled me closer to his chest.

"Ivar", I signed against his lips, "Please"

"So needy, huh", he chuckled.

I only looked into his eyes and nodded. A grin graced his lips and in a matter of seconds, Ivar had switched our places and he was suddenly hovering above me.

His lips attacked my neck and a moan escaped my mouth.

"Shh", Ivar whisperd, "We don't want others to hear these beautiful sounds"

I nodded and tried to keep silent while he continued to kiss across my neck.

"Those noises are only for me to hear", Ivar mumbled. His voice was stern,"Only for me"

I only nodded at his words again, not able to form a coherent sentence.

A yelp escaped my lips, as Ivar's cold hands slipped under my robe. He only chuckled and continued to lift it over my head.

He just looked at me for a second, like I was the most precious thing that he has ever seen.

"Ivar",I mumbled and pulled him towards my lips again.

Another moan escaped my lips, I felt how his frigid fingers touched my skin. Ivar grasped one of my breasts, before starting to kiss down my sternum.

I felt his other hand slip behind my back and puling my Body closer to him. His lips covered my hips in kisses.

I desperately rubbed my thighs together, to conjure some friction, as Ivar was taking his time to cover my skin in hickeys.

"Oh dear", he mumbled and I felt his hands push my legs apart. I gasped, as I felt his lips on my inner thigh.

"Fuck", I mumbled and brushed my hand through his hair. A groan left Ivar's lips.

"Ivar!!"

I have never seen a man, who couldn't walk, get up so fast and covering himself and someone else. Because the Person screaming his name, was not me, but his brother.

Ubbe. He only looked at the two of us and grinned. Our relationship was no secret to them, nor to anybody else, but still they liked to make fun of us or tease Ivar for always being so protective of me.

"You're late", he said sharply, before turnung around to leave.

"Oh, and Y/N?", he asked again.

"Yes?", I sighed and shyly peeked out from behind Ivar's back.

"Our mother is searching you", Ubbe stated before leaving.

"Shit!", I got up as fast as possible, looking for my clothes.

"Where do you think, are you going?", Ivar asked perplexed and even though he was still sitting on the edge of the bed, he managed to pull me back into his lap again.

"Ivar", I giggled. His pouting face was too cute, "I promised your mother to help her with embroidering"

"Why can't you stay?", Ivar wined, running his hands up my back.

"Because your mother is the queen of Kattegat and she will personally kill me if I am late", I chuckled and pecked his nose, before getting up.

"I'd never let her do that", Ivar mumbled.

"I know, Ivar", I smiled and grasped his cheek, "I know"

"I love you", he mumbled while I put on my dress.

"Would you help me with the Corset, love?", I asked and turned my back on him, so that he could could tie the knots.

"All done", Ivar smiled after a minute. I turned around and kissed his forehead:"Thank you"

I quickly grabbed a comb and brushed through my hair. I was about to tie it together to, but Ivar stopped me.

"Leave it", he said. I turned towards him and smiled, before dropping my hair. It fell down my shoulder, before Ivar slowly reached out for it. He grabbed a lose Strand and quietly examined it.

"I have to go now", I murmured.

Ivar nodded, before grabbing his crutches. He struggled a bit to get up, but I only watched him. Even though, I wanted to help him, I knew how stubborn Ivar was. He would never admit, that he needed help.

After a minute, he was standing in front of me. Only in his pants and his hair still slightly messed.

I chuckled at his sight.

"What!?", Ivar smiled,"Don't you like, what you're seeing?

"Oh I do", I answered, "In fact, I even love what I'm seeing"

Ivar smirked before giving me one last kiss. It wasn't as passionate as the others, but still tender and full of love.

"I love you", he mouthed against my lips.

"I love you too, Ivar the Boneless"

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year

Text

Tarot

Summary: Your day at the fair has been pretty slow – until a client like no other shows up.

Taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @leithdragon @demon-of-the-ancient-world @alicedopey @ivarlover @levithestripper @batmandallyboy @akayxo09 (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

You can hear them arguing outside the tent. One of the men telling the other to go in, while the other argues that tarot and palmistry is bullshit anyway. Seconds later, a man in crutches angrily storms in, sitting down in front of you with a huff.

The other man follows, sitting down and calmly straightening out his black skirt while the first rages on about the stupidity of all of this.

“Hello.” You greet simply. “Do you want your cards read or not?”

“He does, yes. My brother is just a little stubborn in these things.” The taller man cuts in.

“I don’t need someone to tell me that there will be a car parked on the handicap spot again in a few weeks.” The man with crutches hissed.

“What’s your name?” you continue calmly, as if he isn’t going on a rampage against what you’re about to do.

“Ivar. This idiot is my brother Hvitserk.” He replies, pointing behind him.

Beginning to shuffle the cards, you take your time committing Ivar to memory. He’s handsome in a dangerous type of way. The kind of man that would hold a knife to your throat out of jealousy.

Lying out the cards in front of you, you catch him glance at you.

“How long is this going to take?” he demands.

“Depends on how interesting you are.” You shrug.

“I am interesting, thank you very much.” Ivar snaps.

“You are.” You confirm, motioning to the cards. “It says here that you’ve had a few past lives, in all of which you struggled to make romantic connections due to your brashness. Like in this life.”

Ivar falls silent, and Hvitserk gives him a side-eyed glance that you recognize as a brotherly “I-told-you-so”.

“Is that right?” he mutters.

“Yeah. You don’t fall in love easy, because you don’t trust easy. And you struggle with your confidence and love life due to your legs. You think they make you unlovable. On the bright side, the self-hatred isn’t as strong as in your past lives. Especially your viking past life was bad. Everyone around you judged you for them.”

“Do you see any romance in his future?” Hvitserk asked.

“Yeah, I do, actually. Not too far from now.” You reply.

“See, that’s good news.” He tells his brother, who only rolls his eyes.

“You have a bad habit of anger outbursts.” You continue, unbothered. “Which is why you’re clenching your fist under my table. That’s habitual from your past lives as well.”

“Anything else you want to criticize?” the man in front of you snaps.

“No, I was about to come to the good parts of you actually. You’re fiercely loyal, especially to Hvitserk and your mother. You’re a fighter too, and you’ll defend those you care about to an extreme extent. You’re a family man – or well, you want to be. Partly because you believe in legacy and partly because you want to do better than your father.”

“Do me!” Hvitserk exclaims enthusiastically.

“Are you sure?” you ask, shuffling the cards again. Hvitserk nods, handing over the payment for four readings – an atrocious amount for the fact he’s only getting two.

“So, let’s see…” you begin, laying down the cards in front of you again. Immediately, the Fool draws your eyes.

“You’re an optimist, even though you’ve gotten to incredibly low points in your life. You believe in second chances, because you’ve needed them yourself. You’re also loyal, and in many of your past lives, you’ve been connected to Ivar. This isn’t the first time the two of you are brothers either. You struggle with finding balance, and tend to draw things into the extreme, but you’re good with making friends and connections, making up for your brother’s introspective personality.”

“That cuts it pretty close.” Hvitserk nods. “Now, about Ivar’s future love life.”

“Yes?” you reply.

“Has he met this person yet?” Hvitserk asks. Using your pendulum, you try to give him the best answer you can.

“He has. Though they haven’t been acquainted long. Their relationship will be a paradox of ideas, but they’ll complement each other well.”

“And will they go to a coffee shop for their first date?” Hvitserk asks.

“That’s a little too specific and trivial.” You reply. “But they’ll go on a date soon.”

“You know, our mother practiced Old Norse paganism.” He said. “She had a knack for fortune telling, and she always says I’m the one who inherited her gift.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah. In fact, my intuition is currently telling me that Ivar and his new relationship needs a little help.” Hvitserk continues. Ivar’s eyes snap to his brother, as if he is expecting something, and you can see the idea forming in his head.

“Actually, Ivar would love to take you out for sushi sometime. He loves seafood, and so do you, so it’s perfect! Alternatively, he’d be happy with pizza as well.”

“Declining isn’t on the table, I suppose?” you say jokingly. Ivar shakes his head almost immediately, before staring at the floor.

“This tent is stuffy anyway. So, sushi tonight, Ivar?”

“I’d love to.” He manages. Hvitserk srcibbles down his phonenumber on a piece of paper, but before he can finish, Ivar snatches it from him.

“No one can read that shit.” He snorts, elegantly writing his number down for you.

“I’ll send you the address.” Ivar says, a little more confident. “Be there.”

“I will.” You promise. Who would’ve thought you’d be so terrible at seeing your own future?

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar x you #ivar lothbrok x you #vikings #history vikings #vikings fanfiction #modern!ivar #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok

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axxl-rose · 2 years

Text

Not Today, My Prince

Ivar the Boneless x ofc

Word Count: 2222

Warnings: Mature language, sexual content

The raid was a complete success, and the festivities continued in Kattegat, with throngs of locals joining the Viking’s celebrations, trying to catch a glimpse of the victorious men. The music was booming, and the drinks flowed like liquid gold as Lottie sat with the Ragnarsson brothers, perched between Sigurd and Ubbe, while Ivar and Hvitserk sat across from them.

Lottie squealed, the atmosphere infecting her being. “What a raid, boys! The Ragnarsson name is truly becoming something of legend.” She praised, raising her mead in a toast.

The boys let out their cheers, raising their cups in agreement. As the men clinked their cups, Sigurd threw an arm around Lottie, alcohol and adrenaline pumping through his veins. “It was incredible out there! We could not be stopped!” He cried, his arm tightening around Lottie’s shoulders.

Lifting his drink to his mouth, Ivar froze as his icy eyes flickered to the action, taking a swig from his cup with a clenched jaw. “Yes, it was fucking incredible.” Ubbe and Hvitserk grinned at each other, sipping their drinks slowly.

Clearing his throat, Ubbe leant in close, encouraging the others to huddle in. “We would’ve been better if somebody could throw an axe,” Ubbe whispered with a smirk, peeking up at his brothers.

The group sniggered amongst themselves until Hvitserk paused. A frown on his face, he pushed Ubbe hard enough to knock him off his chair. “Oh, fuck off! My hand slipped!” Everyone laughed; even Ivar let out a chuckle as Ubbe dusted himself off the floor, shrugging with a smile.

Lottie’s laugh was contagious, a melody that echoed within your head, and Ivar couldn’t look away from her. Her eyes danced with flames and her smile glowed brighter than it. She was a sight to behold.

Noticing Ivar’s stare, Sigurd rolled his eyes. “You still chasing after my girl, Ivar?” he drawled, his speech slurred as he dropped his empty cup to the floor. Ivar snapped out of his daydream and glared at his smug brother.

Noticing the tension grow, Lottie shook Sigurd’s arm off her shoulders. “I’m not your girl anymore, Sigurd,” she reminded him, but he hummed.

The atmosphere became stiff, and the people around the group quietened, their attention focused on Ivar and Sigurd, who locked gazes, neither one prepared to back down. Abruptly, Sigurd chuckled to himself. “You’ve probably imagined fucking her before if what I’ve heard from your room has anything to do with it,” he sneered, laughter sounding from the onlookers. However, his brothers didn’t snigger, and neither did Lottie. They all knew that this would end poorly.

Shaking her head, Lottie downed her drink. “Sigurd, that’s enough,” Lottie warned, glancing at a trembling Ivar, his hands clenched on the table, his veins rising to the surface.

Sigurd ignored her, leaning across the table into Ivar’s face, his breath reeking of mead and meat. “Imagine her lying bare on the bed before you, dripping wet because she needs you so badly.”

Hvitserk placed a hand on Ivar’s shoulder, whispering pleas for him to remain calm in his ear. Yet, Ivar shook off the hand with a snarl. “You better stop, brother,” Ivar growled, his face flushed.

“Her moans echoing all around you as her tight, little pussy wraps around your throbbing cock… it’s pure heaven, I’ll tell you that.” The once giggling crowd had gone silent as Lottie stared at Sigurd in disbelief, shocked he would speak of her in such a way, especially since she was beside him. “But guess what, Ivar? You will never experience this for yourself, as someone like her would never go for a boneless cripple like you.” Sigurd scoffed, waving his arm in his youngest brother’s direction. “You can’t even get it to work anyway.”

Ivar launched himself out of his seat, only being pulled back by Hvitserk and Ubbe before he could wrap his hands around his older brother’s neck and squeeze the life from him. “Don’t you dare speak about her like that, you piece of fucking shit!”

Sigurd just laughed and stumbled away, collecting his empty cup off the floor and ignoring a screaming Ivar and a frustrated Lottie.

†

The obnoxious celebrations and sloshed partygoers were doing nothing for Lottie’s thumping headache. Sigurd was out of line with how he spoke to Ivar and talked about her. As much as she wanted to leave this place and forget this horrid night, she needed to make sure Ivar was okay.

Putting her ear to the closed door of Ivar’s room, and not hearing the tell-tale noises of swearing and smashing, Lottie knew it was safe to enter. Tip-toeing into the room, Lottie raised a brow as she found a shirtless Ivar perched on the end of his bed, head in his hands, tense and trembling.

Hearing her tentative footsteps, wide electric blue eyes met her concerned ones, his body slumping slightly. “Lottie, what are you doing in here?”

Lottie shrugged, a gentle smile decorating her face. “Thought that I would come and find you… talk to you about what happened out there.” She mumbled, twiddling her fingers as she watched the cripple stiffen again.

Ivar shook his head, a scowl on his lips. “It is not you who needs to worry about it. Sigurd was a prick; he should not have said that about you. Ever.” He spat, making Lottie giggle.

“No arguments from me.” She huffed, plopping down on the bed beside him, a creak echoing in the room.

The two stared ahead of them, saying nothing, until Ivar sighed, pushing his braids out of his face. He bit his lip, ripping the sensitive skin as his fingers drummed on the bed. “You know it’s true, right?” He whispered, staring at the flicking fire in the corner of his room as if the flames would engulf him at any moment.

The hairs on her neck stood tall as she raised an eyebrow, turning to look at the worried Prince. “What’s true?” Lottie questioned, her breath unsteady.

Ivar’s leg was twitching as he bounced it up and down, his eyes locked on the blaze, afraid to look at the woman beside him. “That I admire you…” He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Well, ‘admire’ is a weak term. I’m in love with you!” He rambled so fast Lottie could barely understand the maddening man.

“Slow down, Viking!” Lottie laughed, a hand landing on Ivar’s trembling leg, causing his eyes to widen. “But yes, I knew this was true.” She admitted, giving him a cheeky grin.

Ivar froze as if ice water had drenched him from head to toe. “For fuck sakes… seriously? It was that obvious?” He groaned, pulling the ends of his hair.

Lottie giggled. “Besides the fact that you stare at me anytime I am close, you have a guard ‘secretly’ supervise me at all times, and you slaughter any man that dares approach me… yes, Ivar, you are kind of obvious.”

Lottie tilted her head, hair draping down her back as she observed the crestfallen Ragnarrson, who had thrown himself down on the bed beside her, covering his icy eyes. Besides the dull cheering ringing from behind the closed door, silence filled the room. Sitting up straight, Lottie cleared her throat. “So, if we’re spilling secrets, I should probably admit mine.”

Ivar refused to uncover his face. “You have a secret?” She hummed in reply, staring at Ivar with a grin he could not see. A harsh breath escaped him. “Well, what is it? It could not be more embarrassing than my ‘not-so-secret’ secret.” He snorted.

“I think you’re pretty cute.” The man shot straight up, wide saucers for eyes as he gazed at Lottie. She admitted, her grin becoming a broad smile at Ivar’s reaction.

“Are you fucking with me?” Ivar whispered, his jaw dropping low.

Laughing, Lottie shook her head. “No, I’m not fucking with you.” She stated, standing up in front of him, nudging his useless legs apart so she could position herself between them. Ivar choked on air. “I’ve thought you were pretty cute for a while now, but seeing you stand up to Sigurd, getting all angry…” She sighed, shaking her head. “It was sexy.”

She was entrancing him like she always had, but hearing Lottie confess her attraction for him aroused Ivar like nothing had before. His dreams were coming to life before his very eyes.

Her soft hands rested on his bare, shuddering shoulders, feeling them relax under her tender stroking. “And it turned me on…” She paused, contemplating as she stared into his foggy, blue eyes as if searching for an answer. “I want us to fuck, Ivar. I want you buried inside me while I scream your name.”

“Am I dreaming?” he whispered, gazing up as if Lottie was Freya, Goddess of Love and Death, preparing to claim him as her own.

Lottie straddled Ivar’s lap, pressing their bodies together, feeling their hearts beat in unison, hammering like Thor was striking them himself. “Not today, my Prince.”

She could feel his solid erection against her core, making her raise a brow as the rumours surrounding Ivar’s condition have always made her curious. Testing the waters, Lottie firmly ground her hips down in one smooth motion, making Ivar groan, throwing his head back with his eyes closed.

Suddenly, they snapped back open. The realisation that he could be aroused by a woman… by Lottie… was all-consuming. His lips began to tremble, and his jaw slackened. Ivar gazed at the smirking Lottie as if she held the sun and stars only for him. Letting out a deep huff, his hands gripped her hips as she continued her slow movements. “Fuck, Lottie.” He panted, pleasure overtaking all his senses as his head dropped against her stomach.

“Hey,” Lottie whispered, pulling his head back up. Ivar’s eyes were drooped in lust, pupils wholly dilated. “If I’m going to ride you, you will look at me while I do it.”

Ivar thrust up against her on instinct, her sultry words going straight to his throbbing dick.

Leaning down, Lottie placed her lips firmly on Ivar’s. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her flush against his bare chest, grinding up against her as he did. Lottie whined into his mouth, the dominant movement making wetness pool in her trousers. His hands roamed her thighs as their tongues swirled around each other. Lottie’s hands began to wonder, trailing down his broad frame to his cock, giving it a testing squeeze.

Ivar groaned, but pulled Lottie away, making her frown. “Okay, okay... We need to stop.” Ivar wheezed, his eyes avoiding hers as he looked to the ceiling.

Grabbing the Viking’s chin, Lottie stared Ivar dead in the eye. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She questioned, still huffing. “You are Ivar Lothbrok, correct? The man who’s been following me around like a puppy since we met?”

Ivar grumbled, lying back against the bed and covering his eyes. “I know, I know! This is literally my fucking wet dreams coming to life.” He growled, the noise going straight to her core.

Lottie’s thighs felt cold now without Ivar’s warm hands caressing her. “Then, what’s the issue here, Ivar?” She mumbled, confused beyond belief.

Throwing his hands up in the air and slamming them down on the sheets, Ivar let out a yell. “Fucking Sigurd!”

Taken aback, Lottie rose an eyebrow at Ivar, her face forming a snarl. “Sigurd? Sigurd is why you won’t fuck me! Why are you even thinking about him when I’m straddling your hard-on? Desperate to fuck you!” She cried.

Ivar sat up on his forearms, a frown on his face as he looked at the girl of his dreams. “Because he has had you in ways I cannot, that I do not think I can.”

Lottie shook her head with a soft laugh, hair dangling before her eyes as her hands started to move over Ivar’s chest. “You are the object of my desire. You, your inner power, your fighting spirit is what I have craved for many years. I do not want, Sigurd. I want you.” She declared as Ivar’s hands unconsciously moved up her thighs again.

“Yes, but…”

Lottie cut him off. “No but’s.” Removing her hands from Ivar’s chest, Lottie moved up to her shirt, slipping it off her flushed skin. “Right now, it’s you and me.” Ivar was mesmerised once more as more of Lottie’s skin displayed. “There’s no Sigurd…” She whispered, throwing her shirt to the side, leaving her breasts bare before him, peaky nipples hard in the open air. “There’s no other Ragnarsson…” Ivar’s hands trailed up her warm stomach and cupped her chest, making her bite her lip. “It’s just you and me.”

Ivar nodded absently, his fingers circling her nipples as he held her breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently. “Just you and me.”

“That’s right, Lothbrok,” Lottie smirked, reaching beneath her and stroking his erect member. “So, are we going to talk about Sigurd, or are you going to fuck me?” She squeezed him, locking eyes with Ivar, who was struggling to maintain eye contact with her bare breasts in front of his face.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that the only man’s name you’ll ever be able to say is Ivar.”

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its-all-or-nothing94 · 1 year

Text

Ravenblade - Part 1 // Ivar Lothbrok x OC

Summary: The sons of Ragnar are forming their great army to avenge their father. Soon Björn realizes he gets help from someone he doesn't know he can trust.

Warnings: Language

Pairing: Ivar x OC

A/N: First chapter of my Vikings story - I hope you like it. It's been a while since I started this story, and I got a few chapters ahead - but eventually, I will need to rewatch this fantastic show! Poor me ;)

Ubbe and Björn stand at the Docs of Kattegat and see the vie boats coming towards them. The banner is unknown to Ubbe, but any reinforcements are welcome. As the boats dock, some men and women get out, looking ready to fight.

Ubbe walks up to them. "Welcome to Kattegat. I suppose you are here to join our great army?" he asks, but he receives no answer.

Only one of the men looks at him before he gets off the boat. He stands in front of Ubbe and Björn and looks at them both.

"Are you their leader?" Björn then asks with his arms crossed.

"No. The leader is not here," is all the latter says. "We are here to avenge Ragnar Lothbrok's death."

Ubbe and Björn exchange a look. "Where is your leader then?" asks Ubbe then. The strange man, however, only looks at him.

"Be that as it may," Björn then interjects, looking again at the banner under which they sail, and suddenly he realizes something.

"What does your banner mean? Which king or jarl are you sailing under?"

"This is the banner of the Ravenblade and we sail under neither a king nor a jarl."

No sooner has the man spoken the words than Björn turns and walks away. Ubbe looks at him in confusion.

"I am Ubbe, son of Ragnar. Turn to the servants of the great hall, and they will show you to your lodgings."

"I am Sven Eriksson. I thank you on behalf of the Ravenblade."

Björn walks through the crowd of Kattegat until he meets Hvitserk.

"Have you seen a young woman? Blonde, about this tall?" he asks his half-brother, hinting at the size.

"Are you serious? Half the women here look like that."

"She's about your age, and you'll never have seen her before."

"What's going on, Björn? Who are you looking for?" asks Hvitserk, confused.

Björn exhales in annoyance. Why does she always have to play games?

Without answering his brother, Björn walks towards the great hall. Hvitserk follows him, and Ubbe has now joined them.

Together they enter the great hall but no sooner have they taken a step inside than Björn falters. He stops and looks up at the throne. Hvitserk and Ubbe also stare at the person who has made himself comfortable on Lagertha's throne.

"Who is that?" asks Hvitserk, but again he is ignored by his brothers.

Behind them, the door is pushed open again, and Ivar and Sigurd enter the great hall.

"That's what I thought," Björn then says.

The young woman sitting on the throne, one leg draped over the armrest, looks up and at the five with amusement. Then she pops a nut into her mouth and chews it leisurely, grinning at the young men.

"What are you doing here?" asks Björn, and finally, she stands up.

She strolls towards Björn until she stands in front of him. She is wearing armor like the shieldmaidens wear and is also heavily armed. Her posture looks arrogant, considering she is almost two heads shorter than Björn.

"Are we not here to raise a great army and avenge your father?" she asks, looking into the eyes of Ragnar's sons.

She pauses briefly at the youngest. Something about his aura does something to her, but she cannot say what it is. The only thing Liv knows is that the gods still have something planned for them both. Ivar, meanwhile, looks at the stranger the same way. Her pretty blue eyes stare into his, and warmth rises in him. Then she looks back at Björn. A wicked grin is on her lips.

"Your friends arrived earlier. Why weren't you with them?"

"Oh, I've been here for days," she says nonchalantly and sits back down on the throne. "I need to know who I'm fighting with before I decide to do so," she says, looking at the brothers again.

Just as Ubbe is about to ask something, the big doors are pushed open, and Lagertha, followed by Astrid, enters the hall.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asks, looking at her son and his brothers standing before her throne. As the shieldmaiden makes her way forward, she sees someone sitting on her throne. The young woman stands up and opens her arms invitingly.

"Lagertha! It's been so long," she says, but her voice could hardly be more sarcastic. You can sense the young woman's disapproval of Lagertha, which only makes her more sympathetic in Ivar's eyes.

Lagertha stops in front of her and looks at her in surprise.

"Liv?" she asks, looking the young woman up and down. The latter only puts on another amused grin, but her eyes seem to fire lightning bolts. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, nothing that should concern you. As far as I've heard, you're not joining the sons of Ragnar to avenge their father."

"And you are?"

"Yep. I just made up my mind." The young woman walks through the still confused and slightly astonished young men and towards the exit. "You can let me know when you are ready."

With these words, she turns dancingly and disappears out of the hall.

"Okay, can anyone here explain what just happened?" asks Hvitserk after a while. "Who is that?"

They look to Lagertha, but she sits down on her throne and doesn't seem to want to answer. So they look to Björn. The latter is visibly grinding his jaw angrily, his eyes still annoyed at the door where the blonde disappeared earlier.

"This is Liv," he says after what feels like an eternity. "My sister."

A little later, Björn and his brothers are eating at a table.

"So let me get this straight…. You have a sister? But she is not our sister. She is the daughter of Lagertha and her ex-husband, whom she killed." Bjorn nods and takes a sip of his mead. "And now this Liv wants to help us avenge Ragnar?"

"Looks like it."

"But as far as I can see, it doesn't look like she's doing it out of compassion for you," Ivar says, and Björn looks at him.

"No. I don't think so, either. I am trying to figure out what Liv's ulterior motives are. Lagertha often told her stories about Ragnar when she was a child, and she admired him. Then when she left Hedeby, I only saw her a few times. But I heard enough stories, which makes it all the more suspicious. I don't know if we should take her and her people with us."

"What stories?" asks Ivar with interest. This Liv somehow fascinates him.

"Does the term Ravenblade mean anything to you?" asks Björn, and the brothers look at him.

"I've heard of them. They are said to be the most ruthless assassins you have ever seen," Sigurd now interjects. "They are said to get in almost anywhere unnoticed if they want to."

"The banner," now says Ubbe, who understands. "The banner on the boat. The man said it was the Ravenblade. Does that mean…?"

"They want to support us, and Liv is their leader."

"And why do you want to send them away? They would be an asset, wouldn't they?" now Ivar asks, his interest growing.

"You don't understand it, do you?" asks Björn. "We don't know what their motives are. One moment they are fighting by our side, and the next, they are holding a dagger to our throats. These guys have no honor or loyalty. They fight for the highest bidder."

"Then we'll just have to be the highest bidder," Ivar continues. "For my part, I think it's advantageous to have someone at your side who can get in anywhere unseen."

"I will try to find out what is behind this and will talk to Liv. Besides, it worries me that she's been here for days, and we haven't noticed."

The next day, Ivar wanders through Kattegat before being automatically pulled in one direction by the metallic clang of swords. He pulls himself onto a tree stump in a small square and sits down. In front of him, he sees Liv training with a tall, handsome man. Her movements are elegant yet precise and, above all, deadly. Even though the man holds his own very well, she has the upper hand.

Fascinated, Ivar watches the two of them. There are a few things that immediately catch his eye. For one thing, her beautiful face, which always has an alert look and an ironic smile, and her well-built body.

But what catches his eye most at the moment is her sword. It is a medium-length blade, but what stands out is the hilt. It is black, and two raven heads adorn it. The upper part, however, looks like it is illustrated with black feathers.

"You should keep your arm higher when covering yourself," she says to her sparring partner. He only nods briefly before attacking her again.

Liv, however, manages to duck away from his attacks without much trouble. She stops, presses her shoe into the dirt, and then draws her dagger. She may not be the biggest, but she is all the more agile for it.

"Come on! One more time!" she demands. Again the man attacks her.

She now holds her dagger at the back of her sword and uses it as a spike. She lunges at him, and just before her dagger rams into his thigh, he can stop her and stop it. Liv smiles, and then let's go. Together with the strange man, they approach Ivar, taking a cup of water.

"Who do we have here?", Liv then asks with amusement, looking at Ivar. "Do you like the idea?" she then asks and takes a sip.

Ivar has his hands folded in his lap and looks smugly at the young woman. "When you're done with that one, you can try me," he says with a grin, and Liv raises an eyebrow.

She looks at the young Ragnar's son and then smiles. "If you say so," she says and again Ivar can hear her smugness in her tone.

She raises her sword and points it at him. Behind Ivar, his brothers now come out and look at the young shieldmaiden as they point their swords at their brother.

"What is going on here?" asks Ubbe immediately, but Ivar only rolls his eyes.

"Give me a sword," he demands.

Sven, on the other hand, looks at him curiously. Somehow he doesn't like the way the son of Ragnar looks at Liv. He has known for a long time that Sven has feelings for his leader, but somehow he can't bring himself to tell her. Whereby he sometimes wonders if the tough young woman is even capable of love. Then Liv looks at Sven and nods at him, who then walks up to Ivar and puts his sword in his hand.

"Ivar…", Ubbe tries again, but the dark-haired man has fixed Liv with his gaze.

"Shut up! I can do it," he says, cradling the weight of the sword in his hand.

Liv is still smiling and then attacks.

She and Ivar clash swords a few times and she prances around him. He is holding his own quite well, the blonde has to admit. Again and again the metal hits each other and they move as one. The surrounding observers are truly fascinated by how the two move in unison.

Then Ivar knocks the sword out of Liv's hand, which flies through the air in a high arc and then hits the ground. He holds his sword to her neck and grins at her triumphantly.

"Ha! You see! I won!" he says confidently, but the grin on Liv's face doesn't disappear.

"Are you sure?" she asks then. "Look down."

Ivar lowers his gaze to his lap, where he spots the blade Liv is holding directly at his soft parts.

"You'd be just as dead as me."

"That's not fair!" he protests then, but Liv just winks at him before backing away.

Sven retrieves his sword and Liv picks hers up from the floor.

"I thank you for this kind exercise," she says, bowing theatrically to the sons of Ragnar before she and Sven disappear.

Ivar stares after her with his mouth open. He has yet to see a woman like her. Her sarcastic manner and her cheekiness in battle are simply unbelievable. A grin now creeps onto his face too.

"I think I know what Björn means," Ubbe now says. "They don't play by the rules."

"So what?" asks Ivar of his big brother. "I think it's just what we need. She's just amazing."

"Has someone fallen in love little Ivar?", Sigurd teases Ivar, which earns him a deadly look from the latter.

"I would rather call it admiration for an equal opponent."

Next Part

#Vikings #Ivar Lothbrok x OC #Ivar Lothbrok #Ivar the Boneless #Vikings Fanfic #Alex Hogh Andersen #Ivar Lothbrok x Reader #Ivar Lothbrok fanfic

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jadelynlace · 2 years

Note

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!

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woahhhgwendolyn · 8 months

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Ivar Having A Crush On You Would Include...

Ivar having a crush on you would be so obvious to everyone. Everyone would always bring it up to him and make fun of him for having this crush on you because they thought that he would never be able to pull you. He would always fantasize about you and the things that you both could do together. He would always get really nervous around you and try and talk to you but could never make a full conversation with you because he is so nervous around you. He eventually gets over this and starts to make conversations longer with you and even gives you gifts quite often.

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 2 years

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Vantalaður Ást

Ivar Lothbrok (Hvitserk) x F!Reader

Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15

A/N: So like I said, I wasn’t expecting any of this. Thank you @acrossthesestars for straightening up my words and gRaMmEr 😘

Warnings: I think Freydis needs a freaking warning. And Ivar. Also more mentions of drugs and feels.

Word Count: 3370

Tagging: @ivarisms @majesticwren @a-bang-for-your-bucky @youbloodymadgenius @kaybee87 @punkrocknpearls @istorkyou @smears-and-spots @bulmabhadie @southernbe @ironynoticony

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife crafted by Björn. Toying with your lip, you pressed it into your teeth as you watched Hvitserk, who was sitting opposite you. He was frowning, his hazel eyes glaring as his fingers flicked through his cards.

“You’ve…”

“I know.” You retreated, crossing your arms and trying not to smirk.

“Hvit…”

“Don’t!” He held up a finger, cutting you off which just made the desire to smile so much harder to resist.

“They’re all…”

“Oh I’ve fucking lost! Again!” He shouted, throwing the cards so they scattered over the board. The houses and hotels went flying in a shower of green and red. Lifting your arms up and tipping your head back, you gave a silent victory dance. “How do you fucking do it?”

“Skills, sæti. Skills.”

“You fucking cheat, more like!”

“That is incorrect! You know the trick is to land on Mayfair and Park Lane…”

“Stupid. Heimskulegur fokking leikur!” He gave the board a final shove, spilling your wad of notes into your lap and you gave him a smug look as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“Another game?” You called trying to keep the gleeful tone to a minimum.

“Only if it’s a different one! I’m going stir crazy stuck in these four walls.” He leaned easily against the door to the kitchen, taking a drink from a glass of water.

“You’re telling me? 25 days with no alcohol. That’s a fucking record for me.”

“How much longer?” He groaned, running a hand through his long hair. “They’re going to drop the keys and run right?” He was acting like he was fed up, but you knew he’d rather stay inside forever so he didn’t have to face life outside of these walls. Collecting the cards and carefully putting them in the box, you chose your next words carefully.

“You know you need to ease back in easily. Into work and everything. We’ve grown comfortable here and I’m…well I’m going to go home.” You noticed the hitch in your voice. Part of you didn’t want to go home. You’d enjoyed this time being locked in Hvitserk’s house. With him. True, some of it hadn’t been easy. Holding him and comforting him as he wept or taking his anger as he destroyed the place looking for drugs. You’d even hauled him away from the bathroom window, more concerned that if he made it out he’d break something rather than him actually escaping. The others had visited, everyone except Ivar. It was the one topic that hadn’t been broached by either of you; Ivar, or more accurately, the lack of his presence. You had dared to ask Ubbe about him once, but you were met with a noncommittal shrug and you decided at that moment that this wasn’t the time or place for your shit.

Maybe it was the guilt you still harboured. If you were truthful, the nightmares kept you tethered to that place of darkness. It was those nights where you crept across the landing and slipped into the warmth of Hvitserk’s bed. He never said a word, just welcomed you with open arms and let you fall asleep against him. The pair of you were close before, but this whole experience just raised you up a level.

“I know,” Hvitserk sighed heavily. “It’s going to be an adjustment.”

“You can ring me any time. Shit, just rock up at my flat or work or whatever. I’m not…I won’t leave you again.”

“This wasn’t your fault.” Putting the lid on the game, you shrugged slightly. There was nothing anyone could say to stop the bitter taste that rolled over your tongue at the thought. And in part, you found yourself blaming Ivar. You shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it.

“I wasn’t there,” you told him simply. He watched you wearily as you stretched up to put the game away. The shelf was too high and you let out a frustrated growl when he appeared beside you.

“Just ask,” he muttered, taking the box and reaching up beside you. He nudged into you, and you elbowed him in the middle, making him double over.

“Oh!” You cried out, a devilish smile creeping over your face.

“No, gods no!”

“I forgot how ticklish you are!” He vaulted over the sofa in an effort to get away from you, holding out his hands in a pleading gesture as you cornered him.

“Please, sæta…!”

“Begging can’t save you!” You told him with a wiggle of your fingers and he smiled, dropping his hands a little.

“You’re so fucking funny,” he whispered. A playful look danced in his eyes and you lunged just as he dodged to the side. You snatched at his top but he was too strong for you. He wheeled round, wrapping his arms tightly round you and lifting you clean off the floor. Shrieking loudly you kicked your legs, but there was no effort behind your cries. Laughter bubbled up from your chest when his fingers dug into your sides as he flopped back onto the sofa, taking you with him. You tried to crawl away from him, hating how this game had been turned against you so quickly. You wriggled desperately to escape his merciless fingers, the motion dragging the pair of you to the floor in a heap.

“Time!!” You gasped. “Time—out!” Instantly he stopped, his chest heaving beneath you as you relaxed against him, still giggling in little fits.

“We need a better safe word.”

“Oh, wow.” It was the only protest you could muster, still trying to come down from the rush the tickling had given you. “How about winner, because I win…Hvitserk!” His name squealed out of you as he continued his tickling attack, hunching over you as you rolled on the floor. Finally he got up, but you reached for his ankle tripping him up. Wasting no time, you crawled on top of him just as he rolled over, your legs caging his as you dug your own fingers into his sides.

“Ah fuck! You’ve—nails!” He yelled breathlessly, desperately trying to pull your hands out from under his shirt. He pulled his legs up, heaving you forward so you tipped over him, your hands flying to catch yourself. He reached out to steady you at the hips, the laughter dying between you as you took stock of your positions. Biting your lip, you couldn’t help but think how nice this was, then you remembered who it was beneath you.

“I’m hungry!” You blurted awkwardly crawling backwards and standing up. He jumped up as well, clicking his fingers, a nervous habit you hadn’t seen him do in ages.

“I’m going this way,” he murmured, curling a hand around the back of his neck and pointing at the stairs.

“Yeah,” the pair of you sidestepped the same way, giving a nervous smile. You went the other way, but he followed.

“Hvit…!” With a rough exhale he planted his hands on your shoulders, his body heat bleeding through your thin top as he spun you round with him.

“Now we can’t bump into each other.”

“Good thinking, Batman!” You exclaimed loudly, cringing when you turned away. What was happening? You never felt awkward around Hvitserk. Ever. He took the stairs two at a time, probably in a rush to get away from you. Grabbing your phone you rang Kat, biting the skin beside your nail as you waited for her to pick up.

“Hello!”

“Hi! Just thought I’d ring and catch up. How are Björn and the kids?”

“Good, the kids are so excited to see you and Hvitserk. What are you guys up to?”

“Up to?” You repeated.

“Doing? What are you doing?”

“I’m…standing in the kitchen. I was thinking about some dinner actually.”

“Have you had breakfast?”

“What?” Why would she be asking about freaking breakfast? You turned to look at the clock and your mouth fell open.

“You just saw the time didn’t you?”

“How is that even possible? I could have sworn it was past 10am. I’ve already beaten him at monopoly.”

“Cheated! She cheats!” You jumped at Hvitserk’s loud shout and gave a shrill giggle that was pumped with pure nerves.

“I can drop you guys some snacks? Do you need anything else? If you want, I could come and get you both…” you glanced up at Hvitserk but he shook his head. The tension was evident in his posture at just the thought of leaving the house and you knew it was going to be a rocky transition.

“No, just snacks are fine. Thanks, Kat.”

“See you soon!” Dropping the phone back onto the counter, you tried to gather the words that floated about your brain, but Hvitserk spoke first.

“Have you spoken to Ivar?”

“What?” You squeaked, having almost choked on your own saliva but needing to give a response at the same time.

“Ivar. Have you spoken to him?”

“Have you?” You snapped back, reaching for a glass and pouring some water.

“We text,” he answered, his fingers flexing against the underside of the counter and you scoffed. Loudly.

“You think I can get him to text me back? Do you think I want him to text me after…” her voice was always there. Gloating, gleeful and never ending.

“He said nothing happened with Freydis.” Nodding, you took your time with the glass of water. Each swallow felt like you were trying to push down glass rather than the clear, cool liquid. So he’d talk to Hvitserk about her but not to you?

“Did he explain the lipstick on his face?” Hvitserk’s head swung round so quickly you thought he was going to fall over.

“Huh?”

“That’s a nope.” You popped the p with your lips. You expected nothing less. The ache you’d been shunting all this time was threatening to engulf you again. The fine cracks that scattered over your heart began to widen and bleed, emotion oozing and permeating every pit of your soul. “It doesn’t matter,” you whispered but Hvitserk tutted.

“I’m going to…”

“Do. Nothing.” Looking up into those hazel eyes you knew so well, even as they wavered because of the tears that threatened to spill over your lashes.

“Sæta,” he whispered. Pushing away from the counter, he enveloped you in a deep hug, one that had your walls cascading down and you sobbed erratically into his warm chest. “It’s ok,” he breathed, resting a cheek on the crown of your head as he stroked your hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Wh-what for?” You asked, pressing the side of your face against his broad chest. Relaxing into the comforting feel of him, drinking in the scent that was so ultimately Hvitserk.

“Because you’re here looking after me. When Kat comes, why don’t you go see him?” Sniffing lightly you contemplated what he’d said. He was right, just because he chose to be housebound didn’t mean you were.

“I don’t think he’d want to see me.”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course he’d want to see you.” The pair of you stayed like that for a few more beats, the pound of Hvitserk’s heart making yours slow and calm and finally you managed to pull away. He spread his hands on either side of your face, brushing your hair back and holding you in place so you had no choice but to look up at him. “Go shower though because you smell—like skyr.” Jabbing him in the side, he yelped and released you. “Your fingers are so pointy!” He moaned but all you did was stick your tongue out at him before racing upstairs.

It was safe here. In your car. With all the doors shut. The building that Ivar lived in loomed in the middle of the street, wedged between two other blocks of flats. You could see the door and just beyond that was his front door. Fuck…fuck. Why was this so difficult? All you had to do was open the door, step out and knock on his door.

The outer door to his building opened and you dropped down in your seat like a fucking stalker. Peering through the car window you saw Freydis stepping into the weak sunshine. She turned on those immaculate heels and you felt a hateful sneer come over your face. You couldn’t see who she was talking to but it looked fairly heated, her voice rising slightly but the words were still muffled. She threw up a hand and started in your direction. Panic skitted over your skin and you scrabbled quickly to make it look like you weren’t just sitting here snooping like an idiot. A sharp rap on your window had you muttering angrily under your breath as you pressed the button to roll it down.

“How’s Hvitserk?” She asked with that sickly sweet tone.

“Getting there.”

“I do wish I could see him,” she lied and you caught yourself from making a face. “Are you here to see Ivar?” A slyness entered her voice and you smiled in an effort to ward yourself against it.

“Yes. To update him on Hvitserk.”

“Such a thing as phones,” she replied absently as she straightened up. “Until next time!” She called, giving you a dismissive wave and you found yourself mouthing silently at her retreating back and crossing your eyes in annoyance.

“Fucking prissy bitch,” you snarled. Anger made your steps slightly jerky, knowing that she’d been here again and probably many more times since you’d been holed up with Hvitserk.

To your surprise Ivar’s front door was open and you pushed it gently, not even sure you were allowed to enter. He looked up from where he was standing next to the table, photos littered the surface and straight away you were captivated.

“Can I?” You asked and he nodded. Closing the door and stepping beside him, you delicately picked the photos up. “These are gorgeous!” Some were of snow capped mountains and sunlight filtering through trees, others were of a horse. Closeups of the bridle, the way his tongue came out under the bit, the person who was riding him flexing their hands on the reins. Cream jodhpurs and rich leather saddles filled the top of the table, you spied two horses. One was a deep chestnut, almost red in the light and the other was the mottled coat of a dapple grey. “Who are these for?”

“Freydis.” Of course they were. Dropping the photo you were holding, you smiled but it held no warmth.

“So I came to let you know Hvitserk is doing great. He will need to be prised out of that house though. I think he’s worried he’ll relapse.”

“I’m sure he’s got nothing to worry about. All he’s done is talk about how well you take care of him.” He limped towards the sofa, the telltale grimace across his face when his leg was playing up flitted to life and you curled your hand into a fist to stop from helping him.

“I’ve managed to take some time off and work from home for a bit, but my boss is losing patience.”

“So? The job isn’t right for you anyway.” Cocking an eyebrow you perched on the other end of the sofa, the arm uncomfortable but you refused to move now you’d sat down.

“What should I be doing?”

“Anything but work for that company. Go freelance.”

“I’m not here to talk about my job…”

“No. You’re here to talk about Hvitserk.” You hated the way he tilted his head to look at you. The glare in his blue eyes as he practically spat out his brother's name.

“Yes, because Hvitserk needs us.”

“He hasn’t needed anyone but you.” Standing and crossing your arms you looked around the flat. The space where his guitar used to sit was empty, as empty as your heart right now.

“This is about that row we had. Weeks ago, Ivar. That was weeks ago!” He sighed, dragging it out and drumming his fingers on the arm of the sofa as he glanced out the window. “I came here to talk to you.” The break in your voice was evident and he turned at the sound of it, but glared at the blank tv rather than actually looking at you. “The least you could do is look at me!” You demanded, the frustration and anger unfurling in your gut, piercing your insides like red hot spikes. “You slipped away and I don’t even know when it happened!”

“I don’t want to do this now,” he huffed. His cane in his hand as he pushed himself upright.

“We are doing this!” You rounded the sofa and cut off his escape. “Gods be damned, Ivar Lothbrok, but you are going to stand here and fucking talk to me.” You waited, not caring how awkward the silence got, but the longer it dragged the more annoyed you became.

“There’s nothing to say,” he finally said.

“I’m—,” choking down some tears you coughed. “Nothing? At all?” He slowly shook his head and you took a step back. Staring at your boots you could feel the whirlwind gathering strength inside you. The swirl of words that you wanted to say but they slipped by before you could grab them. You wanted to tell him how it had always been him, from the moment Floki first brought you home. Ivar had been the one to approach you last, after his brothers had looked you over and got distracted by something else. Ivar had crawled over and just sat opposite you. Both of you staring each other down, the one that didn’t talk and the one that couldn’t walk.

You never knew what it was that made Ivar hate you so much from childhood, but as you stood there the pieces slipped into place. You always gravitated to Hvitserk. And Ivar took that as an indication there was no room for anyone else in your heart.

“You think that I love Hvitserk. Well, you’d be right.” A triumphant glint sparked in his crystalline blue eyes, but it died along with the smugness in his face. “But I also love Ubbe and Björn and Sigurd,” you continued softly. “And you, Ivar. But with you it’s different.” You hated how he didn’t voice what was on his mind, his lips moved, his jaw flexed but nothing was spoken. “Maybe I…” shaking your head you had no idea where this was going. “Maybe I dreamed it all but I’m pretty sure you kissed me! Maybe it was being at the lodge, but since Ragnar…” Ivar’s lip curled and whatever softness you were on the verge of reaching was closed off once more. “You are allowed to talk about him, Ivar!”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?” You chased him, not accepting the way he turned away from you once more, forcing yourself in his path.

“Because when I remember Ragnar—I remember being with you.” Your entire body jolted at the ice in his gaze. His admission wrapped like barbed wire round your heart and squeezed. So he had used you to process his fathers death, those few days in your flat where he’d shut the world out were blissful for you, but filled with pain for him.

“So that’s it?” Nothing. That was all he was giving you. “That’s why you’re…Freydis is a little palette cleanser? Something to wipe the feel of me away?” The urge to run was strong, the need to leave and run straight to the person you knew would comfort you. Ivar said your name as tears finally overcame your vision. They smeared indelicately over your cheeks. Everything about the pain that filled you right now was searing.

“I’m sorry, elskan mínn. My brother needs you more.” Your hand fumbled for the door handle, slipping over the metal because you couldn’t feel it under your fingers. You don’t know if he tried to stop you or if he was helping you open the door, either way you were stepping out into the sunshine and falling into your car. You didn’t give yourself time to breathe. Chucking the car into gear, you screeched back to the one place where you felt at ease.

#vantalaður ást #modern ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar x f!reader #ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar lothbrok #vikings modern au #vikings fanfiction #hvitserk #ubbe #björn #Sigurd

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fragileheartbeats · 8 days

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"He's not good for yo-"

YES! but have you seen his eyes???

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miss-madness67 · 1 year

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It Is You (Ivar The Boneless)

Ivar the Boneless drabble

Imagine you are the one that catches Ivar's eyes, not Freydis.

The crowd is overly excited by the army’s return to Kattegat, they had finally avenged the death of Ragnar Lothbrok. I had not taken long to recruit the great heathen army, and less to decimate the Saxons. Most of the hassle had been travel discrepancies and what to do after. Now with all that finally over, Vikings have a chance to celebrate victory. It is no surprise, then, when the great hall is completely packed with drunk people in the late hours of the night. The celebration of the great heathen army’s conquest is something to brag about, and Ivar the Boneless is doing precisely that.

You have never seen the Viking prince in person, considering that you are not a shieldmaiden, and could not go to avenge Ragnar. Also, you grew up in Ringerike, not Kattegat, thus you never encountered him during your childhood. You have heard the stories, though, not only the most recent ones about his victory against the Saxons, but also those speaking of his cruelty and quick temper. And so when you came to welcome your brother back from fighting in England, it was not in your plan to cross paths with Ivar the Boneless. However, once you entered the great hall, your destiny was entangled with his.

He is not the only man that stares at you more than he should, but his gaze is so intense that you can not shake it off. It burns through your skin like fire, stealing all of your attention from your brother’s words. When you look up, Ivar is already glancing your way. He does not smile or try to approach you like the rest of the men, he just stares. His look is heated but not loaded with anger, it is something else. No one has ever gazed at you like that, it has such desire and amazement. It makes you feel like a goddess. So, while your brother is still talking, you leave his side to introduce yourself to the cruel prince. That is the first step that changes your life.

Tags: @cdauni @justsomecreaturewandering

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar vikings #ivar imagine #ivar fic #vikings #vikings fic #vikings imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar fluff #ivar x oc #vikings fluff #ivar ragnarsson x reader #vikings one shot #ivar ragnarsson x ofc #ivar lothbrok x reader #vikings drabble

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undiscovered-horizon · 7 months

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"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

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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

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year

Text

Unexpected pt. 5

Summary: He returns to Kattegat, somehow alive. Too many things have changed while he was away.

Notes: I’d estimate that Ragnar + Ivar went to England for maybe a little over a month to two months. Also rewrote his arrival to be a bit more realistic than in the show (Why tf would the Saxons wait for a bunch of Northmen to see them come and go??)

Also, only a few people gave me their opinion on the whole pregnancy thing. If u wanted this to be without a pregnancy trope, feel free to comment!! I might write an alternative version in that case.

Taglist: @bragisrunes @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @alicedopey, @ivarlover @levithestripper @tsundere-cherry-girl @buddhasoull @mypinklion @katieskidmore1 @vrtualfairy @akayxo09 @batmandallyboy

Masterlist | part 4 | requests are OPEN! | hmu to be added to a taglist!!

Ivar didn’t know how he had survived England or King Ecbert. He’d expected to die at the hands of an English soldier. Yet, these Saxon men had sailed him back all the way to Kattegat, pushed him off the boat and left as quickly as they could.

He sat himself up, having lost his braces in England. He needed time to think about how he’d tell mother that Ragnar was dead.

The people of Kattegat saw the Saxon boat before they noticed their prince, but in the matter of a few minutes, Ivar spotted Ubbe and Y/N running towards the docks. Immediately, he saw that they both looked incredibly tired.

Ubbe reached him first, hugging Ivar tightly. It was something he hadn’t done upon Ivar’s request for years, since Ivar hadn’t wanted him to embarrass him further. But now, he was glad for the embrace, even if he would never admit it.

Before either of them could say anything, she was next to him.

“You’re alive, thank the Gods.” She whispered, her hands shaking. Ubbe moved back, leaving them to their moment.

“You look…” Ivar began, before he trailed off. She looked tired, exhausted even, but he noticed the clothes she was wearing immediately. They were fit for a merchant’s daughter, and while they suited her, Ivar also saw her discomfort with wearing them.

He connected the dots quickly.

“Who freed you?” he demanded. For a moment, he suspected that Sigurd had done it, to take her away from Ivar, but that notion made no sense. It wouldn’t work, his mother wouldn’t have allowed it.

She sighed. “There’s a lot you missed. We should talk… somewhere else.”

Ivar noticed the crowd that had gathered behind them, whispering. He could see Torvi’s intricate braids disappear between the people that had gathered too. Why was she already back from Hedeby? Had Bjorn and Hvitserk returned?

Ubbe hoisted him up, and the two of them transported Ivar away from the whispering masses, towards the forest.

He noticed their faces of pity. It wasn’t something he was used to from them. As soon as they set him down, it spilled out of Ivar.

“Ragnar is dead.” He said. To his surprise, they nodded.

“We know. Sigurd and I saw Odin.” Ubbe explained.

“Who freed you?” Ivar asked her.

“Lagertha.”

“Why would Lagertha have any choice in the matter?” he snapped.

She glanced over at Ubbe, who gave her a small nod.

“Aslaug is dead. Lagertha killed her.”

And with six words, Ivar’s world came crumbling down.

“No.” he said. “It can’t be true.”

“It is true.” Ubbe affirmed.

“Then where the fuck where you? Where were either of you?” he screamed. Roughly, he pushed her away from him. Ubbe caught her before she could fall, and Ivar felt a stab of guilt in his gut.

“Hedeby.” She answered quietly. Ivar let out another shout of frustration.

“Tell him the reason.” Ubbe mumbled to her, before he slipped away. Ivar wanted him to stay, so he would have someone to fight with. He didn’t understand why Ubbe was leaving.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“No.” she agreed. “But you did.”

Quietly, she sat down next to Ivar.

“What reason did Ubbe mean?” he asked after a while.

“Why Lagertha freed me.”

She took a deep breath, and subconsciously, Ivar grabbed her hand. He felt the quick pulse in her wrist, noticed her shallow breathing.

“Why are you afraid?” Ivar asked.

“I don’t know how you’ll take this.” She said.

“You cannot make me hate you, unless you sided with Lagertha.” He replied.

She shook her head quickly. “I tried to protect your mother. I really did. I know she meant a lot to you, and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think I have to forgive you.” Ivar said softly. “What is it?”

“I’m with child.” She blurted out.

“I don’t- I can’t-“ Ivar began. “I don’t understand.”

“Just because your legs don’t work doesn’t mean you cannot have children.” She replied. “I didn’t think I’d get with child because I hadn’t had my moon’s blood in months before I came to you. I guess you fed me enough. She freed me because I’m carrying a prince.”

“Did you tell her?” Ivar demanded.

“She’s a mother. She was the first one to notice.” She admitted.

“And I’m the last one to find out.” He concluded.

“I would have told you, but there was the slight problem of an entire sea between us.” She joked. Then, her face grew more serious. “You’re not going to leave me, right? I know that Lagertha is using me as a bargaining chip, but I can’t raise a child alone. I’m barely above what I used to be.”

Softly, Ivar laid a hand on her belly. There was no way of noticing if she was pregnant yet just by looking, but he felt prouder than he ever had. He was normal, he could be just like any other man.

“How could I ever leave you?”

She let out a sound that was between a laugh and a sob. Ivar noticed the tears glittering in her eyes and reached up to cup her face. Softly, she grabbed his wrist, giving his palm a soft kiss.

“Who would’ve thought?” she said.

“Gods, I love you so much.” Ivar blurted out. “You’re all I have.”

She laughed again. “Sometimes I wonder how you can be so smart and yet so stupid. You have Ubbe and Hvitserk, and maybe even Sigurd. And if you put just a tiny bit of effort into it, the people of Kattegat will love you far more than Lagertha.”

“Don’t talk about her now.” Ivar hissed. She nodded, and hugged him tightly. Ivar sunk into her embrace. When he closed his eyes, he could pretend this forest was the whole world, and they were the only two people in it.

No Lagertha, no Ragnar, no Saxons. Only them.

***

The only reason why Ivar did not burst into the Great Hall with axe in hand to kill Lagertha was because she was carrying his child. He knew that this was already changing the stakes in Lagertha’s favor, but Ivar could not care less.

Instead, he grabbed her by the arm and went straight to his room. There, he sat down on his bed, trying to calm down and failing miserably. He noticed quickly that nothing had dusted over while he was gone, but was still in the same place. Well, except for the bedsheets.

“You slept in the bed.” He said.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you. You were gone and Queen Aslaug did not mind. Lagertha insisted.”

“She wants me out of the way.” Ivar realized. “If I marry you, my marriage cannot secure any alliances.”

She looked to the ground, the hurt in her face apparent.

“That’s not what I meant.” Ivar tried. “But it’s what Lagertha is trying to do. All she cares about is placing Bjorn on the throne.”

“You don’t necessarily need a political marriage to become King.” She replied.

“King?” Ivar asked. “I only meant that I was weakening Bjorn’s claim.”

“I know your ambitions reach higher than that, Ivar.”

Ivar looked over to her, and she was smiling to herself as she pulled the sheets tighter on the bed.

“Do you want to be queen?” he asked her.

“I want you to be happy. And you will be happy when you are great.”

“You’ve already made me happy.” Ivar insisted.

“Oh, but being King certainly wouldn’t hurt.” She replied cheekily.

Ivar grinned back, his mind going through the possibility. Of course he wanted to be a King, who was he kidding? To achieve that though, he would have to be greater than all his brothers combined. And he’d need an heir.

Luckily, one of those problems seemed to already be resolving itself.

He watched her walk around the bed, kneeling down in front of him. Quietly, she took his hands in hers.

“I will help you kill Lagertha.” She promised. “Your mother became quite dear to me before she died. But you lack patience. Let the people turn against her, as they will soon enough. Let time do the job for you, and they’ll see you as the hero that rid them from her.”

Ivar nodded, trying to ignore the itch for violence creeping up behind him. She was right. If he rushed into this, it would be like running into battle without a plan. Not that he’d been in one yet.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Ivar stayed on the bed, but she went and opened it. To his surprise, it wasn’t Ubbe who was standing in the doorway, but Hvitserk.

“Little brother! I heard you had returned.” Hvitserk announced happily, pushing past her.

“Like you didn’t just come back.” Ivar grumbled.

“Any news?” Hvitserk asked. “I know of mother.”

Ivar contemplated for a few seconds. Hvitserk was his favorite brother, and he wanted him to know directly, and not from one of Lagertha’s lackeys.

“Nothing much. Well, you’re going to be an uncle.” Ivar said smoothly. Hvitserk laughed, but when Ivar didn’t follow, he stared at him. Then at her.

She nodded slowly.

“I’m going to be an uncle!” Hvitserk almost shouted. In two steps, he had crossed the room, pulling her into a hug and twirling her around. She laughed as he finally set her down, stumbling a little. Ivar was glad when he did not feel jealous.

“I’m going to be an uncle.” Hvitserk repeated in a sing-song voice, skipping around the room like a child. “Ohohoh, Sigurd is going to be pissed.”

“That was not the main point, but I suppose it is a bonus.” Ivar agreed.

“So when are you two getting married?” Hvitserk asked.

She hadn’t drunk anything, but she still coughed as if she had swallowed a particularly large gulp of water the wrong way, and Ivar’s eyes widened.

“Mother said-“ Ivar began, doubt creeping up in him.

“Mother would gladly marry the two of you now. She respected Lagertha, liked her even, and the woman turned against her. Believe me, she would not mind.”

Ivar sat there in silence, thinking about his brother’s words.

“Please let me be there?” Hvitserk begged, as if the whole marriage had already been agreed on, and not just an idea he’d thrown into the room.

“You wouldn’t need an invitation.” She snorted.

“You would marry me?” Ivar asked, unbelieving.

“Have I given you any reason to believe the opposite?” she replied.

“I-“ Ivar stuttered. “No bridal race.” He coughed out finally.

Hvitserk’s grin widened even more as he made to leave the door.

“Where are you going?” Ivar demanded.

“To the market. I’ll find some fabric for the wedding dress. No offense little brother, but your taste in fashion is mostly… opulent or dark and brooding.”

“Ivar hasn’t agreed to marry me yet.” She said quietly. “Or even said that he wants to.”

“Oh, you two are getting married.” Hvitserk decided. Ubbe, who had walked up behind him froze.

“Are they getting married?” he asked. Before Ivar or her could say anything, Hvitserk nodded enthusiastically.

“Fucking finally.” Ubbe muttered under his breath. “Ivar, you’re not choosing the fabric for the dress.”

“Why does everyone think I’d do so terribly?” Ivar asked, starting to get offended. He looked to her for help, but she was obviously trying to suppress a laugh.

“Fine. I’ll marry you and not get to choose anything about the dress.” Ivar hmphed.

“That’s good.” Ubbe nodded. “Now you only have to promise me you’ll make it through the evening without exacting revenge on Lagertha yet. Both of you.”

Hvitserk hesitated for a moment, before he nodded. Ivar kept his arms crossed firmly. As if he was going to let Lagertha live any longer than necessary.

“Ivar.” Ubbe warned.

“Fine. No murdering for tonight.” He agreed. She’d promised him his time would come, and he trusted her. Lagertha would die, and Ivar would revel in her death.

#ivar #ivar lothbrok #ubbe #hvitserk #sigurd #lagertha #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar x you #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar fanfic #ivar fluff

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