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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years

Text

Heartbreaker

Pairing: Modern Ivar x Female character/ reader (She)

Word Count: 3057

Warnings: Language mostly, implied sexual relations and angst.

Beautiful moodboard made by the amazing @peterquillzsblog Thank you again 💙

This was written for the lovely @youbloodymadgenius 400 Followers Writing Challenge. I'm super late, but thank you so much for letting me participate 💙 I had fun writing this and I hope you like it.

I used prompts #12 and #28. They are highlighted in bold.

I tagged those who might be interested.

...

“I told you not to fall in love with me.”

The words hit her like a fucking truck. They tumbled so easily from his lips with that dreaded nonchalant tone she'd only ever heard him use on others whenever he spoke over the phone. It was never aimed at her.

He had his arms crossed over his naked chest with brows raised, sitting comfortably up against the large fancy black headboard of his equally large and fancy bed, the very bed he had her in only nights before. His long hair was messy, shooting out in all directions from being tugged at mercilessly. A pretty blonde had snaked her way from under his black satin sheets, her naked body in full view. She makes a show for him, pulling her denim jeans over her sad excuse of a behind slowly, obviously interested in hearing the rest of their exchange.

Ivar licks his lips, his blue eyes following the soft lines of that broads basic body before shifting them back to her. “You’d only get hurt in the end.” He finally says.

What a low blow.

She swallows the lump forming in her throat, knowing the tears would be forcing their way out of her glossy eyes soon. How fucking stupid was she? She stood there, hands balled into fists as her eyes flipped between him and the smirking blonde. Her lower lip trembled like a goddamn child, standing awkwardly in front of the pair. From the looks of it, this dalliance with the blonde had been going on for a while. The girl seemed far too comfortable.

Ivar was right. He did warn her not to fall in love with him. It was just supposed to be a fling, nothing more. They had met at a mutuals party, Ubbe’s friends cousin or some shit. They couldn’t remember the details now if you asked them, but they both knew the guy, and when they met, it was instant physical attraction. And that was when their “friends with benefits” relationship began. She had been a phenomenal plaything for him, and she seemed to know exactly what Ivar needed. She was pretty, had an amazing body, shiny hair, long fluttering lashes. She looked perfect on his arm and he liked her enough to keep her around, but he didn’t love her. How could he? He wasn’t meant for that shit. He was Ivar the heartbreaker, a hot young bachelor born into the old money of the Ragnarsson family. He could have any woman he wanted. And he did.

She was so fucking stupid, but Ivar was fucking stupid too. He’d given her a key to his flat, allowing her freedom to come and go as she pleased as if they were a fucking couple. And she was stupid enough to believe that was the relationship they were forming, that somehow they had silently crossed this bridge of uncertainty that went from nothing to something. They had been “together” for months, almost an entire year. Ivar wasn’t a bad person, he was just bad at relationships. He couldn’t settle with one girl, so he played with many. She wondered how many others he played with when she wasn’t around.

Not much regret could be detected in his eyes, his blue orbs shimmering with the words she could read so clearly: Get out. So that's exactly what she did. Turning swiftly on her booted heels, she walks back into his fancy kitchen, slamming his key with this cute pastel blue pom pom keychain she bought onto the marble island counter. Digging into one of the totes full of groceries that she intended to use to cook the fucker dinner, she pulls out a small tub of Häagen-Daz strawberry ice cream, shoving it in her bag. She'd need it later. With a shaky breath she looks around the modern sleek flat one last time before slamming the door behind her.

She could hear that bitch giggling as she left.

…

“Did you see the look on her face?” Freydis giggles, slipping on her low cut cropped top before pouncing onto the bed beside Ivar, “Poor thing. You really had her hung up.” Ivar did see the look on her face, and although he’d seen it many times before on countless other women, it hit him a little differently this time. Dammit.

She looked heartbroken, eyes wet like that day her cat had gotten sick and she begged Ivar to rush them over to the vet that was an hour away. He didn’t really care much for the cat, it had sharp claws and was always hissing at him, but he did it for her. Her cat was saved from whatever the fuck was wrong with him, and she was happy. She’d given him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

That night had been a great fuck.

Ivar releases a breath from his nostrils, ignoring Freydis babbling on and on about god knows what. The blonde was a fool if she thought she would be next to take her place. Fucking bimbo. Was only good for a measly fuck. And she was terrible at it. He pushes away the satin sheets, completely nude, before turning to peer at her from over his sculpted shoulder with a look of indifference.

“Get out.”

“Ivar?” She looks up at him through her lashes, her lips forming into a frown at his sudden disdain.

“I didn’t stutter,” He states calmly, but a stern tone laced his words that had her sitting up at attention,” I said get the fuck out.” Freydis rolls her eyes, pushing herself off the bed and grabbing her purse she meticulously hung in his closet.

“Douchebag,” She mutters, but she offers him a sickly sweet smile, pushing a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, “You know I’m always available. I’ll be waiting for your call.” She winks at him, blowing him a kiss before slinking out of his room. Once Ivar heard his front door slam close he sighs, shuffling over to his bathroom for a much needed bath.

For some reason, he felt dirty.

…

It had started raining as soon as she left Ivar’s flat. She had forgotten her umbrella at home and she was soaked to the bone from the heavy droplets by the time she stepped foot into her own flat.

It was cute and cozy, with fairy lights and tapestries that were the complete opposite of Ivar’s stupid modern sleek bachelor pad. Ivar preferred simplistic Scandinavian living, while she gravitated towards that boho atmospheric vibe with scented candles that she had in practically every room. He joked about it whenever he slept over, which wasn’t very often. It looked childish to him. The scented candles made him sneeze and the cat was a bitch, but he’d settle under her warm quilted covers just fine, gazing up at her ceiling that reflected a projection of a star lit sky. That was actually kinda cute. She was always a romantic, but that was the problem.

She kicks off her tall boots, tossing her keys atop the little ceramic dish by the door. Moving over to her tiny kitchen, she puts away the ice cream in the freezer and makes a b-line towards her bedroom. She hangs up her bag on the very corner of the door to her closet, shedding her jacket and the rest of her clothes on the floor without a care before heading to her bathroom. She immediately lights all her candles, setting up a relaxing bubble bath with a lavender scented bath bomb. Lastly, she grabs her phone, searching for the right playlist before sinking into the warmth of the bubbly water.

As soon as her eyes fall shut, her mind goes back to Ivar.

Fuck him. And the blonde.

She didn’t want to berate herself anymore than she already did while taking that miserable walk home, but she couldn’t help feel like her heart was burning a hole right through her chest. It beat faster the more she thought of him, and her eyes pricked with the sensation of tears, until finally, she let them fall. The fat drops roll down her cheeks as she cries into her hands to muffle her sobbing.

This would be the only night she’d shed tears for him, she promised herself. Tomorrow was a new day.

Benji, her fat calico cat, slinks his way into the bathroom, curling up in a corner to enjoy the warmth of the bath for himself. She brings her teary eyes to him, the calm state of the feline having her wish she could feel such peace. Sometimes she wished she were a cat herself, only having to worry about sleeping, eating, shitting, and doing it all over again day after day.

Sinking deeper into the water she forces herself to relax, listening to the soothing sounds of Moonlight Sonata, a dreary tune for a dreary day off. When her eyes fluttered with sleep, the classical playlist was interrupted by the obnoxious sound of her phone's vibration over the plastic toilet seat. With a scowl she reaches over to snatch her phone, biting her lip as Ivar’s name flashed on the bright screen. Without hesitation, she taps her finger to end the call, sending him straight to voicemail. She had nothing to say to him.

Fuck him.

After 30 seconds, her phone vibrated again. Ivar was fucking persistent.

Again, she ignored the call, and after the 4th call, she angrily slams her finger on the green button, bringing the phone to her ear.

“What do you want?” She spits, shivering now that the water had significantly dropped in temperature. She runs a hand down her gooseflesh covered leg as she awaits his answer, but so far he was silent, only a frustrated breath could be heard on his end, “I detect guilt.” Her words were dripping in pure venom, something he honestly found rather attractive. But now was not the time for that.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, so unlike him, and somehow, so fucking irritating.

“Peachy,” She replies sarcastically, sinking into the water once again. The bubbles had long disappeared and she was getting cold, “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Was the weak scoff. There was an awkward silence after that, which was strange considering she felt she could talk to Ivar endlessly about anything really. That’s the sort of pair they were, or maybe it was her doing all the talking and soul baring while Ivar patiently listened and...kept his own secrets. She sighs, just about ready to hang up until she hears him mutter something.

“I can’t hear you.” She counters, annoyed.

“I didn’t want you to see this,” He clears his throat, “I didn’t want you to see us. Me and Freydis.”

“You did a great fucking job hiding it.”

“Is this really a good time for your sarcasm?”

“Fuck you, Ivar.”

“I’m being serious,” He hisses in frustration, “That was nothing for you to see. I had no idea you were off today.” He sounded irritated, as if it were somehow her fault he got caught. It shouldn’t have mattered if they weren’t anything to begin with. “I don’t even know why I’m explaining myself to you!” He ended his little childish rant with a sigh, the kind of sigh where he needed to run a hand down his face to keep his shit together.

“So then why the fuck did you call me?” She hissed back, and in her annoyance she splashed water from out the tub, the cold droplets sprinkling over Benji. It had the cat screeching for his life before running out of there.

“I don’t even fucking know myself.” She hears him take in another frustrated breath, grumbling something about the complications of women. Asshole. He was the complicated one.

The splashing of water was heard on his end. He must have been having a bath of his own. That was their thing, after a particularly rough day at work, or whenever the actions of their lovemaking called for a bath, they didn’t hesitate to slip in together and enjoy each other again. It was clear she valued those moments more than he did. It all meant nothing to him.

Her traitorous mind conjured up images of how his body must have looked, water droplets running down his glistening chest and chestnut colored hair plastered on his face. Fuck.

“I’m fucking stupid.” She groans, already feeling another wave of tears surging through her. She sniffles, bringing her knees to her naked chest as she stares at the flickering candles surrounding the tub.

“You’re crying,” Ivar says stupidly, his tone unreadable, “Please, don’t cry. I hate it when you cry,” He was speaking gently, as if that would be enough to soothe her, “I told you not to fall in love with me.” He repeats the phrase softly, almost sadly, like the corny lead of some fucking corny romantic comedy that did trash in the cinema.

“Yeah…” She says, fighting to hold back the sob she wanted so badly to release, “Yeah, I know.” And with that, she hung up, tossing her phone aside and sinking deeper into the now freezing water.

Maybe if she stayed in there long enough she’d feel numb.

…

She had stared at her ceiling, the star lit sky projection twinkling down at her, much like they always did when she was a little girl back in her hometown. They always did serve to calm her, making her feel safe and helped her sleep a lot better. They didn't help much this time around.

She stared all night, even after the stars disappeared with the sunrise, thinking about him. She was getting too old for this, crying like a fucking teenage girl.

She barely slept and was desperate for a cup of coffee the moment she rolled out of her cocoon-like bed. Dragging her feet over to the kitchen, she brews a pot of the caffeinated liquid before preparing Benji’s breakfast. The cat slithered between her legs, meowing uncontrollably as he awaited his food.

“Shut up, Benji.” She mutters to him tiredly, placing down his food bowl and giving him a quick pat. She leans against the counter, her eyes following the slow drip of the coffee into the glass pot, wondering how the fuck she’d gotten to this point. Her eyes hurt, swollen from all the crying she did last night, and everything felt hazy and slow.

After last night’s conversation with Ivar, she decided to block him, erasing whatever memories she had of him. Ivar was always a generous man with her, sometimes buying her little things that caught her eye, probably just things to appease her with she realized. She gathered all the items up in a cardboard box she had laying around, leaving it by the door to throw away once she left for work.

Finally, the coffee was done. She poured herself a much needed cup, adding a few drops of her favorite vanilla creamer. Taking a small sip of the hot beverage, she groans in delight as it coats her taste buds, ignoring the burning caused by her impatience.The fusion of bitter and sweet was helping her recharge for the day. She’d need at least 2 more cups if she was going to do these guided tours at the museum today.

There was a knock on her door as soon as she moved to get ready. In her confusion she pauses her morning playlist, turning to look toward her door as if something were about to burst through and devour her whole. It was 7:30 in the morning, an unusual hour to knock on anyone’s door. Her first thought was Ivar, but why would he even bother showing up to her door? He was never awake this early as he got to show up to his office whenever he wanted. Ruling him out, she finally makes her way to the door, peeking through the peephole. No one was there.

She unlocks the door, turning to look towards the left and right of the hall before looking down. She blinks, stunned.

Flowers. A huge bouquet of flowers. Her favorites actually, Gerbera Daisies, all in a soft powdery pink color with bright yellow centers. They were placed in a monstrosity of a vase of white porcelain, painted with stunning blue designs like fine china. Beside it was a small bag with a generic looking orange tabby cat on the front with its paw up. Those were Benji’s favorite treats.

Taking one last look around the hallway she bends down, carefully picking up the vase of flowers and the cat treats, all while pushing Benji back in before he tried to make a run for it. She tosses the treats aside, staring long and hard at the pretty flowers with a scowl. There was a white card clipped within the stems, wet from the vase water. Snatching it, she runs her finger over the parchment-like surface before opening it to see a familiar scrawl in the blackest ink. The water spreads the ink, staining the white card in black streaks like tears. She read the simple message:

I know these are your favorites. You deserve pretty flowers. I’m sorry you felt the need to fall in love.

-Ivar.

Her brows arch and a frown tugs at her lips. She felt her heart drop instantly as her brain finally processed the simple words he’d written. Reading it was enough for her to sense the emptiness of the message. She knew him well enough to know he slept just fine last night. Probably next to that other chick. How could he possibly think that flowers would make it all better?

She quickly rips the card into little pieces, tossing them into her trash can. She lifts the bouquet of daisies from their stems, removing them from the vase and throwing them harshly into the trash with a snarl. She squeezes her eyes shut, the tears already coating her lashes, rolling down her cheeks and onto those stupid flowers. She already broke her promise of no more tears and it wasn’t even 8 am. She bites her lips, glaring down at the daisies as if they were the root of the problem.

“Fuck you, Ivar.”

...

Part 2

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