#modern vikings fanfiction

[jadelynlace]

True Warriors Rarely Go Quietly⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter I

read the prologue / preview here. 

synopsis: When you find the other person who was hurt by your ex-boyfriend’s cheating, you create an unlikely alliance. 

pairing: Modern Ivar x F!Reader

content warnings: Mentions of cheating and heartbreak, strong language / adult themes, sexual content, Ivar being a dick… 

author’s note: I know. Don’t say anything, I’m writing something new. Divider is by @firefly-graphics​

It was hopeless—sitting alone at his desk, whether is be the odd hours of the morning or the lonely hours in the midst of not being able to sleep. The only ones awake at two in the morning are the dreamers who are lonely, he had convinced himself. And Ivar, above all things, was lonely. Sometimes, people do the wrong things for the right reasons, and Ivar of all people should know that. Having a heart wasn’t in his guide, he locked that brackish idea away quickly. 

In retrospect, a plan for revenge seemed idea. It seemed logical, it seemed fair. The crackle of dead wood catches Ivar’s line of sight for a second time, and when his finger moves to push his glasses from slipping down his nose, the noise of the telephone catches his attention. 

“Your first meeting is here, sir,” A voice lulls on the line and Ivar’s singular reply ends the conversation. Through a muted sigh and a thick swallow, Ivar musters up the strength to stand, and is met with the old wooden door latching at the far end of the office. 

“Y/N?” Ivar finally says. You nod shallowly, quickly while watching his lips curve half of a smile onto his face. “You’ll do,” He then adds. “Come, sit,” Your stomach turns with an ache as you wonder what you’ve crawled into.

The office before you is sleek, lifeless and cold with no indications that Ivar doesn’t spend every waking moment enclosed in the walls. The furnishings draws as much attention as a white windowsill, but matches the price tag for Ivar’s suit. You neglect to find a single piece that hints towards any similarity of personality. 

In an effort to contain yourself, you look up quickly, eyes meeting the witty smirk plastered on Ivar’s lips. Scanning him quickly, you swallow—this isn’t the man you had imagined. He holds himself with class, standing at a slight angle while he leans weight on a cane: hand crafted with precision, clarity and an underlying scant of love. His entire persona stops at the top of each leg; there’s an untranslatable feeling you get when you look at him; not many people are so keen to placing the cane with the injury. Even less vocalize it. His suit jacket alone probably cost more than your rent. But those eyes, they’re distant and cold, aching to be warmed while hiding secrets behind blue irises.

“It didn’t take you long to find me, hm?” Ivar finally speaks as his takes his place back behind his desk. “Sit, please,” He adds with an extended arm.

“You’re not exactly a hard person to find, Ivar,” You answer back. “Freydis has a mouth that she likes to open,”

“Yes, despite her inability to give head,” Ivar sighs back and you know suddenly where all the personality in the room comes from. You can’t help but laugh at his words. You catch him smirking back at you, opening both hands and shrugging, like you caught a child sneaking candy before dinner. “What can I say, I’m honest,” Ivar adds, tucking those same hands behind his head as he leans back ever so slightly in his seat. 

“I am curious to hear what your plan is,” You find yourself saying. 

“You can take your coat off, I know it’s cold outside but there is a fire roaring in here,” He remarks.

“Forgive me, but Ivar, I know as much about you as I know about the meaning of life. You’re going to have to enlighten me, a bit,” You finally speak.

“Ah, well, I work in finance—clearly my father didn’t tell me he loved me enough when I was a child,” He starts, busying his hands as he rustles the papers on his desk. “You know, I happen to know a question that tests the true caliber of a person,”

“I’m listening,” You say. Ivar smiles, tapping his lips with the tip of his pen.

“Do you like pancakes?” Ivar asks.

“Is this how you’re so successful?” You challenge. “Bringing clients into a lifeless place like this only to liven it up with your demeanor?”

“Lifeless?” Ivar accuses. “Lifeless? How is it lifeless? There’s…furnishings. I went through great lengths to get them,”

“Oh I’m sure having them shipped to you already assembled was a hassle for a man of your proportion,” You scoff.

“Those outside the door aren’t lifeless!” Ivar remark with a grin. “At least, last I checked. Bloody slow at their work, mind you, but very much…alive,”

“Ready to cut the bullshit?” You ask.

“Sweetheart, I’m just getting started,”

“You said something about how Freydis wished she looked,” You recall. “What did you mean by that?” 

“People have so many little tells,” Ivar begins. “Things that you, for example, might find minuscule. Your feet have been pointed towards the door since you sat down—examining people is part of the craft. Small nuances that give away huge details,”

You only blink at the man before you.

“There were feelings of inadequacy between you and your past lover, yes?” Ivar asks and you straighten your spine. “Something drove him to seek more,”

“Oh, go to hell,” You finally spit. “I didn’t come here for a therapy session. I came here for revenge,”

“I work in finance,” Ivar hums, “It comes with the territory,” As your back turns to him, his eyes crawl down your figure, back up through your hair and Ivar tips his head to the side, as if he’s contemplating. Licking his lips, he speaks: “Do you want to make him feel as awful? Do you want him to wonder what he didn’t have?” Your hand is on the door knob, “Do you want revenge, or not?”

“Do not patronize me,” You spit coldly as your turn back to him. “Do not sit there and try to needle your way into a situation where your girlfriend did the same fucking thing. What is it that drove her away? Hm?” You ask as you turn and Ivar’s eyes finally leave yours. 

“Irrelevant,” Ivar remarks. “Ancient history,” And instead of continuing to needle away at the newly discovered weakened spot, you stand still. 

Ivar’s hands disappear from your line of sight, opening a drawer and you hear the tell tale sign of a medicine container pop. Watching carefully, he tosses back what is in his hand with a dry swallow and no indication of discomfort from the unpleasant taste. Vanity doesn’t follow this man around, you can tell he’s deeply troubled, he’s in pain, he’s his own bully and the lies he tells himself keep those blue eyes distant.

“I want revenge,” You finally admit. “I want him to know he’s not half the man he thinks that he is,” 

“Good girl,” Ivar chuckles darkly to himself. 

“They do have a thing in common,” You find yourself saying at you lean against the door. “They both have the inability to give head,” 

“He—?” Ivar stops suddenly and just makes a face. “Really?” You can only laugh as the sheer disbelief that’s laced through Ivar’s tone. “Even I can—did he not eat ice cream as a child?” 

“Oh my god,” You mutter. “What exactly is your plan?” 

“I suppose I can tell you now that you’re near the door, and a safe distance away from me,” Ivar says as he watches you. You’re caught under his gaze as he looks through his lashes at you and that smile paints his lips again. Finally his fingers lace together as he plants his hands on his desk. “How would you like to be my girlfriend?” 

Of all the plans this man could have had, that was one you were not prepared for.

“Because I look the way Freydis wishes she did?” You blurt out. “Come find me when you have a plan that doesn’t mock someone subconsciously. I wanted to stoop low Ivar, but that’s low. Even for someone who cheated.” And you leave with a slam of the door.

“You’ll come around eventually,” Ivar hums to himself.

*

Ivar believes everyone is allowed to have one secret; with lives so privy to the world, it’s hard to contain anything beneath your skin. Ivar knows what his is—and while Freydis’s fell under the category of infidelity, he considered that maybe he couldn’t fault her. Maybe is a grey area that makes even the most competent of men question their knowledge. In some instances, maybe can cost men their lives.

Counting the dots in the sky, Ivar’s eyes grow tired of relishing in the ancient constellations, in the stories of a earlier life. With the fire dwindling down, his fingers tap along his chin before they take a life of their own and gather his phone. After a few high pitched tones, there’s a connection and he speaks:

“What are you doing?”

“It’s 4 in the morning, I was sleeping,” You yawn.

“I don’t sleep much these days,” Ivar sighs, and truthfully, he could spill his darkest secrets to you right now. 

“Who’s mind are you playing with now, Ivar?” You hum, turning in your sheets. 

“Probably my own,” Ivar replies. 

“You just have to figure out what you need,” He suddenly hears you say. 

“I need breakfast,”

“Well, I know a little place that’s open 24 hours,” You answer. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Ivar smiles. 

“Are you asking me on a date, Ivar?” You ask. 

“It’s the middle of the night Y/N. What do you think?”

“I think, you asked me if I like pancakes,” You say. 

“I asked you that for a reason, love,” Ivar says softly. 

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

[multific]

In Love with a Monster

Ivar the Boneless x Reader

A/N: Dedicated to the one and only @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage, you told your husband was a monster.

"He is a monster, yet you want me to marry him?!"

"It is best for our kingdom. And it is final, you will marry Ivar!" your father's words sent shivers down your spine. You have been arguing and trying to reason with him for the past hours to no avail.

Your father was a stubborn man, ever since you lost your mother, it got worse.

But having you marry a Viking? 

He said it was to ensure the relationship since Vikings were great at fights.

He explained that soon, a carriage will arrive for you and you will be taken to Kattegat to your husband.

And it was final.

You felt betrayed by your own father.

But what did you expect?

You knew he had been looking for a husband for you. You just never expected that he would find such a man, or as he said, a monster.

You had a terrible nightmare, dreaming of monsters as you woke up in cold sweat. 

Your life might as well end now.

But the next day, just as your father said, the carriage arrived and soon, you were on a boat sailing towards your demise and misery.

To be married to a Viking monster.

---

Ivar on the other hand was rather excited. When his mother told him about a Princess he will marry, he found himself to be rather excited and nervous.

He walked with his brothers towards the waters, seeing the boat, Ivar let out a sigh.

Hoping his bride would not be too afraid of him.

---

As you got off the boat a kind woman stepped forward. She was the Queen, wife of Ragnar, Aslaug. 

"Meet my sons, this is Ubbe, Sigurd, Hvitserk and your husband to be, Ivar." you kindly bowed to all of them and you could feel them staring at you. You wondered if your dress was possibly too much. You knew better than to stare but you did notice the weird contraption around Ivar's legs.

"He is a cripple, he cannot walk but do not let that fool you, he is a monster, a terrible murderer who would take down an army by himself." your father's words rang in your head.

"Currently the wedding is being planned so I think it would be best to let you rest, I'll show you to your room." said Aslaug, breaking the silence. 

You nodded one last time and the men in front of you before turning to follow their mother. She guided you to a house and inside she showed you a room. "Now, this would be only before your wedding, of course after it, you would be with Ivar. Welcome to Kattegat." she smiled before leaving you alone in the room to get ready for the wedding.

You let out a sigh.

"Are all monsters this handsome?" you said to yourself quietly before two servants arrived to get you dressed.

---

"You are lucky, Brother!" said Hvitserk as he patted Ivar on the back, they all walked off the docks, heading to their business. "She is a beauty!"

"And a Princess! You are clearly mother's favourite child, giving you such a bride. OR she just feels sorry for you." said Sigurd but Ivar didn't pay any mind to him.

His mind was filled with you.

How beautiful you looked, how shy you were. He was certain you have seen his legs, or at least heard about them. 

Ivar couldn't stop thinking about you. His senses were filled as he could recall a small whiff of your scent. Such a sweet and innocent woman you were, he could tell.

You will be the perfect wife and a great Viking.

His princess.

---

You looked at yourself in your gown as the servants left and gave you some space. 

You felt your hands shake, you knew you were about to be married to a monster.

You were terrified.

You learned a long time ago that people with beautiful faces can be the most cruel. 

And it is what you expected.

---

Ivar watched you walk towards him. Looking like a goddess, Ivar's breath was taken away immediately.

He could tell his brothers also had the same thought. 

Soon, you will be his wife, only his. 

He could see your hands shake as you said your vows.

You were his now.

His woman.

His wife.

His Princess.

His.

As the wedding concluded, now it was time for celebration. Everyone danced, drank and ate.

Ivar saw you looking around, as if trying to learn the habits. Ivar liked that you were willing. 

You, on the other hand, stared at all these people while feeling the burning looks coming from your left, Ivar kept staring at you, making you nervous.

You didn't want the night to end. You were terrified of being alone with him. You did everything that you could just to avoid being alone with him. 

You were rather surprised that Ivar didn't do anything that evening. He showed you his home but that was it, he soon headed to his bed and slept. Leaving you and your thoughts alone.

You were thankful he didn't force you.

---

This went on for a couple of days.

Ivar either ignored or barely acknowledged your presence. 

And you, were terrified of him. Being how your father put all these ideas into your head before he sent you off. 

Slowly, you started to believe they weren't true.

A monster would surely have hurt you or forced you. Ivar never did.

A monster would hurt you or leave you out in the cold. Ivar never did. Instead, he invited you into his home, his bed even, gave you furs and always made sure the fire was crackling away in its place.

During the first days, you would be afraid to fall asleep, fearing he would try something while you weren't aware of it.

But not anymore.

Slowly but surely you were coming around. 

You often heard his brothers tease him about his legs. You wondered if you should say something, but you never did.

Until tonight. When Sigurd decided to be cruel. Ivar was crawling on the floor towards Sigurd when he laughed and pulled the chair back, making Ivar fall. 

You hit the table and stood up. Your eyes locked with Sigurd's you felt everyone staring at you as the room went completely silent.

Sigurd smirked.

"Would the princess like to say something?" his mocking tone changed something inside you.

"We already know you have a tiny cock Sigurd. No need taunt my husband to try and prove otherwise." Sigurd's eyes nearly fell out of his head as Ubbe and Hvitserk laughed. Sigurd looked at Ivar before he walked out of the room, you sat back and finished your meal.

You had no idea what came over you. But you certainly didn't regret it.

"So, you do talk." said Ubbe and it made you look at him.

"Of course I do."

"You have fire in you. You'll be a great Viking." he said as he leaned back in his chair, smirking but you only looked back at your food as you ate. 

You didn't look at Ivar intentionally.

But he was looking at you.

You actually stood up for him. While everyone just sat there laughing, you actually stepped up and defended him. 

And he was grateful.

He had a feeling it wasn't out of pity but rather you had enough of his brother's teasing. 

Ivar smiled to himself as he headed back to his bed. Having his little wife defend him felt truly great. Before, only his mother stood up for him, but now, you did too.

Ivar knew you are afraid of him. It is clear in your actions. But as he pulled his shirt off and laid back in his bed, closing his eyes, all he could think about was you and how beautiful you looked as you told his brother off.

When you entered the room, your eyes were immediately drawn to Ivar. He looked to be asleep on the bed, furs pooling around his waist and his chest on full display.

You were rather taken aback. 

You have never seen him like this before. 

You were shocked. He looked so peaceful and soft. 

The tattoos adoring his chest only made his skin more stunning. The fireplace gave his skin a gorgeous glow. 

You wanted nothing more in that moment than to run your fingers over the ink on his skin.

You wanted nothing more than to kiss every inch.

He looked so comfortable, you wanted nothing more than be held by his arms.

Those strong arms.

You took silent steps, fearing you would wake him. But as you moved to lay down, he stirred as he turned and looked at you.

"I didn't mean to wake you." you said with a low voice. His eyes searched yours, slowly he moved in bed, slightly getting closer to you.

"Are you still afraid of me?" his sudden question made you question yourself.

Sure, during the last couple days, he had been nothing but kind to you.

And it did make you wonder.

He was surely not a monster.

"I don't know." your answer was honest, but you wouldn't say you were scared it was more cautious. 

Cautious because you feared you might have fallen in love with him. And you weren't sure what to do with these feelings.

"My father told me about you before I arrived and I don't think he was right."

"What did he tell you?"

"He told me you were a monster, covered in blood with a wicked smile. Tole me you were a rough man and I would be happy to live a day within your claws. But, I believe he was wrong." you looked down at your hands before looking up into his beautiful eyes. "You have been nothing but kind towards me. I heard you in the kitchen making sure everything was to my liking. You asked your mother for advice and I heard her talk with you about me. I judged you prematurely, and for that, I apologize."

"You are very different from us." he said moving to sit against the pillows. "Your dresses, your hair, the way you speak, eat. I'm simply mesmerised. I feel like I'm falling in love with you, yet don't know anything about you."

There was a moment of silence as you tried to process what he just told you.

"You can be angry and proud, but you can also be gentle and caring. I wouldn't say I love you Ivar, but I can say that I can see myself falling in love with you. I believe we could be happy together here in Kattegat."

"You defended me today. Only my mother did that before."

"I simply had enough of your brother. He believes teasing you would prove his strength but it only shows his weakness. I do like your family however. I do not have siblings, so it is nice to see."

"How many times did Hvisterk try and bed you?" you let out a sigh.

"About... five. But even so, he never touched or forced me. He just simply asked, which I always declined."

"I know you did. He would have told me if he fucked you."

"D-Don't say it like that, please! I wouldn't... sleep with your brother anyway. I believe in the unity of marriage it is sacred." 

"I know you do." Ivar smiled. "Whatever should I do to make you love me, you name it."

"I believe you are already doing enough just by being so patient with me. If you could... I-I would like to be your wife, not just the woman who sleeps in your room. I wish to be a real wife to you as you would be a real husband."

"Tell me what is it you mean by that." Ivar moved even closer, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest. You looked deeper into his eyes.

"I wish for us to find love in one another. A companionship. I wish to be the one who can calm you when you are the most angry. I wish for us to kiss and make love. To have a future and a happy life."

"You speak so sweetly. Your father was not fully wrong however. I did kill many before and I will continue to do so. If that bothers you-"

"I doesn't. It is who you are. I see it now. It is how Viking's are. I do not want to change you. I quite like you the way you are."

"Even my legs?"

"I do not care for your legs. I believe God had to take something from you otherwise you would have been too powerful." your hand moved to his neck as you pulled him closer until your lips met his. 

You were still why and Ivar could sense that, so he decided to take lead and kiss you with passion.

He soon pulled back, "Now that we kissed, I believe it is time to make love." the way he said it, his accent made a shiver run down you spine, he moved you close to him, his lips finding your neck as his hand held your waist. 

You felt your hands shake but this time, it was more excitement than nervousness.

---

The next morning you woke up to a feeling rather strange, someone was holding you and you felt more tired than you should.

Then after just a second, the memories came back. 

Suddenly, you realized who the arms belonged to and just why you were naked.

It was very early as you could tell, Kattegat was still asleep.

And judging by the soft snores behind you, so was Ivar.

Last night was the first ever you spent with him, it was the perfect night. 

And now, feeling his breath on your neck as his arms held you to his chest, you felt at ease. You felt happy.

You managed to fall in love with the monster.

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[bjornswoman]

Vikings Masterlist

Bjorn Ironside

Mine

Afraid of losing you

Heart's healer

His night

Precious

Arrows

Blue piercing eyes

I love you

Zinnia

False promises

Ubbe

His dark side

Jealous

Secret

Just listen

His bride

Sick girl

Little girl

My enemy and me*

Hvitserk

Goddess

One of his women

Betrayed

Best friends

Crazy and mad

Lies* (remake) / Lies*

Fake wedding

Worth it

My prisoner

Ivar the Boneless

Mad about you

Last night, Back to you

Break

Feelings

Crimes of love

Games and conflicts

Jealous girl

Right person wrong time

Photograph

Toxic I, II

Destruction*

Harald Finehair

Promise

Allies

Live for me

Free with you

Shieldmaiden's secret

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[underscorewriting]

Taking Care…

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: none, maybe a tiny bit of angst?

Words: 844

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

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

[thepaperpanda]

Affected By Music || modern!Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

Masterlist ❄

Summary: Although Ivar dislikes the Christmas songs you listen to, you somehow convince him that they're not that bad.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1435

Authors: Rouge & Cass

A/N: today’s prompt: enjoying the Christmas music

You sat at the table, trying your best to cut a neat Christmas tree from the thick, green glitter paper you held in your hands - the task was far from easy as the paper was thick enough to be difficult to cut through, even with the kitchen scissors.  You were listening to Last Christmas by Wham! from a radio playing quietly, standing on the windowsill. Throughout the song, you weren't even aware you were rhythmically rocking your foot.

"For Fuck's sake!" Ivar yelled, walking to the radio and turning it off.

Since the morning, the song had been drilling into his brain - he was sick of it. "I will throw the radio out the window if I hear this cursed song again."

After his outburst, you stopped cutting the shape in the paper. You rolled your eyes and said, "Don't be a drama queen today. It's Christmas time! Cherish it! Christmas songs are all over the radio right now in the end, so better get used to this."

"Sweetheart, I see what you mean, but Christmas is only like two days, right?" Ivar looked at you annoyed. "And they start playing this shit on repeat a month before. It's annoying."

"It's not annoying," you replied, putting down the scissors and paper. When you got up, you walked to the windowsill and turned the radio on once more. "... but the very next day you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special," the song was crooning on the radio.

In a frown, Ivar pulled out the plug to make sure the radio wouldn't play again. "I'm serious Y/N. I'm tired of hearing this song everywhere."

Leaning forward, you pulled the plug from his hand and reconnected it. "That wasn't fair! Why are you always so angry and grumpy?"

"Because it's annoying. When I'm annoyed during a game, you tell me to put on my headphones," Ivar commented. "And I do it because I respect you, so it's your turn to respect me as well."

It annoyed you when Ivar acted like that, and unfortunately he was prone to it quite often. "There's no comparison between the two. Whenever you play your games, you become nervous and show your worst traits. I respect you, but it also goes the other way, doesn't it?"

"So you can open Spotify and put on headphones, sweetheart," Ivar said with a wry grin dancing in the corners of his lips.

It hurt you to hear Ivar's words; you had worked hard to create a festive atmosphere in your shared flat, and Ivar had never been so wry toward you as he was now. "Whenever the weather cools down, I can't wait to hear Christmas music. I even listen to it in the summer when I craft or while I read, because I like this type of music, but if you don't like it, I'll switch to Spotify," you said, unplugging the plug and putting it down on the wooden floor. As you returned to your seat, you got your JBL headphones, put them on, and paired them with your phone.

It was just a stupid song and you acted like you would be locked up in the house, so he rolled his eyes.

While he was happy that it was quiet again, you started humming whatever you were listening to soon after.

You hummed with a smile; your notes fell carefree in the air around you as you were rocking your feet again, this time shaking your head from time to time.

As Ivar let out a heavy sigh, he walked towards you and placed his hand on your back before leaning forward to kiss your lips.

The reaction was unexpected for you, but you returned the kiss. You looked at your boyfriend after removing your headphones. "What was that for?"

"To stop you from humming that cursed song," he raised an eyebrow after explaining.

After exhaling, you made a sad face and rubbed your temples. "Ivar, Ivar." You stood up and went to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice before returning to your seat. After setting the glass on the table's counter, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You know what?"

As Ivar wrapped his arm around your waist, he muttered, "What?"

You began singing and rocking your hips from left to right, "Last Christmas I gave you my heart..."

"... But the very next day you gave it away," he sang along, shaking his head. "You are an annoying brat, you know that?"

You rubbed your nose against his and reminded him, "This is exactly why you fell in love with me."

"Honestly? I'm not sure if I did the right thing," he said with a sigh, furrowing his brows a little, smirking as he looked down at you.

You climbed on your tiptoes and stole a kiss from his lips, discovering with amusement that his mouth and tongue tasted like the gingerbread you baked the other day. While humming the song, you asked him playfully, "Not too much frosting on the cookies though?"

"Shut up," Ivar scoffed, wrapping his arms fully around you. Slowly, he began to rock with you, humming the song along. "They were a bit sweet."

"Despite their sweetness, you ate them all," you giggled, rubbing his nape.

"Yeah, but I'm sure I'll get sick of their sweetness," he joked.

While you rocked to the beat of the music, you nuzzled his chest and listened to his strong heartbeat.

Before saying anything, Ivar rocked with you for a moment. "I'll let you listen to those annoying Christmas songs if you keep being so cute."

"I will listen to them even if you will be angry with me," you said. "The sweeter you are, the more I would like to apologize to you."

"You're a brat," he sighed and squeezed your hand tightly. "Turn on that radio before I change my mind."

After clapping your hands, you immediately went to do what he told you.

He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping you wouldn't actually turn it on.

Soon, Jingle Bells filled the room with its rhythm and you began bouncing around to the music.

Facepalming, he already regretted that he let you turn the radio on.

Your arms reached out to catch his shoulders and soon you were dancing with Ivar.

As Ivar's hands moved down your back and rested on your ass, he murmured, "I'll never understand why people may consider all those silly, thematically similar songs during Christmas time. They are so fucking annoying!"

"Once the Christmas spirit fills you fully, honey, you will stop finding them irritating and you will realize they are sweet and they help spread that spirit all over," you told him, wrapping your arms around him.

"If you say so," Ivar shrugged lightly, but when Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas Is You played on the radio, he closed his eyes and hissed. "No, no, not this fucking one! Sorry, Y/N, but you'll never convince me Mariah isn't annoying. Can you hear this voice? It's so shrill!"

After observing Ivar's reaction, you giggled and tugged on his thick, dark hair, causing him to raise his head, enabling you to kiss his jawline. "I have a little, angry kitten here, haven’t I?”

A sigh escaped Ivar's lips. "We could do something nice together and I'd be happy to let those songs play in the background. What do you think?"

"Ivar, what do you have in mind?"

Smirking mischievously, he tugged at your shirt. "Don't make me beg for it, you know too well."

Obviously, he meant some cuddles with a "happy ending", but you had a cunning idea. I'm sure you'll help me bake gingerbread again to compensate for the fact that you've eaten all of it apparently, and I promised Hvitserk that I would deliver a portion of it to him this Christmas."

Slowly, Ivar's eyebrows rose, and he grunted deeply. "Oh, okaaaay! But later you're mine, in all the fucking ways. And fuck Hvitty, his only ability is to eat all the time, fuck.”

Your lips were tinged with a smile. "That's true, but it's so sweet in my opinion."

"That's cute in your opinion, but you scold me every time I eat anything you cook! And you somehow don't make heart-eyes while speaking about it!” Ivar seemed to get offended.

Ruffling his hair, you asked him to follow you to the kitchen. “Let's stop talking and start baking or I’ll sing All I Want For Christmas Is You all day long!"

#ivar the boneless #Ivar x reader #ivar x you #Ivar the Boneless #Ivar the Boneless fluff #Ivar fluff #Ivar the Boneless x reader fluff #Ivar the Boneless fic #ivar lothbrok #Ivar's heathen army #Ivar Ragnarsson #modern!ivar #vikings #vikings x reader #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #vikings fluff #ivar the boneless oneshot #ivar the boneless fanfic #paperpanda winter writing event #writers on tumblr

[queenfinehair]

The Bartender

(Pt. || Here)

Pairing: Modern!Halfdan x Fem!reader (No use of Y/N)

Warning: Minors DNI. Alcohol use. Mentions of abuse. Just, please, adults only.

Disclaimer: Moodboard is made by me from photos found on Pinterest. I do not claim ownership.

Plain and simple? It was sleazy. A dive bar to be crowned the best by those who frequented it and labeled trash by those who never set foot in. The drinks were watered down, cheap and bitter. So why were you there in this seedy joint?

Him. Again. Plain and simple, your boyfriend had finally done it this time. This time you meant it when you left with a swelling right eye. This bar just happened to be the darkest one you had come across and by God, you needed a drink and fast.

"What'll it be?" A napkin in place of a fancy coaster is slid in front of you and you look up. A deep pair of inquiring honey-brown eyes are searching your face, waiting for both an answer and explanation.

"Oh, uhm, strongest thing you have. Top shelf, please." You're already beginning to gather the money needed to pay for this liquid therapy. A snort of a laugh makes you look up suddenly though, frowning already at the attitude.

"Lady, top shelf here doesn't exist, but I know just what you need. Tequila, straight up with a splash of lime. Trust me."

He wasn't condescending in tone but in your fragile state it still made you both frustrated and teary eyed. You quickly wipe at your eyes and flinch at the contact. "And a raw steak as well..." you mutter under your breath and put a $50 on the bar counter.

"You wouldn't want that either. Again, trust me." He laughs from his belly this time and nods towards the lame kitchen doors. "Food here'll give you poisoning faster than the drinks."

This gets you to smile small and thank him for the drink, "keep 'em coming. I'd rather not feel this tonight."

Taking the money from you, the man pauses for a better glimpse under the dim lights. They're enough to hide from but he knew better. "You runnin' from this guy?"

Shaking your head you take a gulp of the harsh liquor and hiss, "I wouldn't say running, exactly..."

"But?" He holds up a finger to an already drunk man down the way, signaling that he'd have to wait just a minute longer.

Another gulp, another hiss and you look into his eyes, "I need to get away. I need to hide and this place seemed the perfect fit for that. No offense meant, by the way."

He shakes his head with a large grin forming on his lips. "None taken. I'm Halfdan, by the way."

"Interesting name." you begin with your own introduction to the strange man behind the bar. You take another gander and only then do you see that his face is covered in an intricate and intriguing tattoo. The ink was slightly faded and looked to be a shade of blue... or was it black? In these lights the details were easily blurred into obscurity so you just shrug off the color and continue with your drink, noting that Halfdan had left the bottle on the bar. He'd left to help another patron with his needs.

With him helping the drunk male you take it upon yourself to grab the bottle and fill your glass up, smiling to yourself as the liquid courses through your system. Your eye would hurt like hell in the morning, but for now you were content.

"Mark, I told you, you're at your limit." Halfdan swears under his breath as he walks back to where you're sitting and raises an eyebrow at the bottle plopped in front of you. "And you..." He begins slyly, playfully taking it back and grabbing another, stronger tequila. "This is what you'd rather have, I'm guessing."

You finally omit a laugh and nod with enthusiasm, "what happened to no top shelf?"

"That's mostly for people like him," he points with his head, the hair that sits to only one side oglf his head swaying with the movement. "Mark! Go on, get!"

The two men have words and as Halfdan jumps the bar to escort drunk Mark out you watch his build. Slim was the first thing you notice, his tight black t-shirt clinging to his sweating body. Dark blue jeans cling to his hips legs. You stare a moment longer at his ass before raising your brows in appreciation, turning back to the alcohol in front of you.

-------‐---------

"So you've been with this guy 6 months, think it's true love, he's jealous and finally he beats you?" Plopping a peanut into his mouth, Halfdan blows out a breath and shakes the hair from his eyes. "Shit."

The bar is empty now and the time is late. You both have been sharing the bottle of tequila and have moved to a booth. It's shabby, torn and red in color but it's much more comfortable than the stool you'd been sitting on before. A small bowl of peanuts sits in front of you that's being shared and you snort out a laugh now.

"In a nutshell," a peanut is held up with a smile, "that's what happened." And into your mouth it goes. Halfdan watches the movement with wry fascination before he talks again.

"You deserve better than a raw steak on your eye, ya know." He motions with a finger the the very piece of raw meat that he'd gotten out for you. Noting how brown and out of date the steak had been though, you politely had rejected.

You both take a shot and wash it down with the juice of half a lime, licking salt off of the opposite hand and laugh together at the synchronization of your actions.

The old jukebox plays a slower song and you sigh, closing your eyes and letting your head fall down and you groan.

"Ahh, nope. I don't think so, not on my watch." Halfdan slams his hands on the booth table and stands up, swaying slightly. "C'mon then, darling, let's dance the pain away. I'm not good at it but I'll try."

You take his outstretched hand and stand as well, walking with the taller man to the so-called dance floor, laughing at the scuffed linoleum. "I'm sure you dance fine." Your words slur and he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you close.

Your own arms wrap around Halfdan and his chin comes to rest on your head. The room sways with both your movements and the alcohol. A tear or two slides down your cheeks as you think of how nice this strange man is, far more kind than your ex-boyfriend.

"Halfdan..." you begin and as you move to look up, his glossy eyes catch your own. He looks from your eyes to your mouth and back again. The though crosses your mind as well and with so much of the liquid courage flowing through you both, you take the first move and kiss him.

He breaks away first, standing away from you now with both hands up in surrender, "I don't know..." He mutters your name and shakes his head before you take full control. Lightning courage has you in its hold as you close the distance.

"For some strange reason, Halfdan the Bartender... I trust you. Make me feel good. Better than I already do. Please."

He heaves a sigh and takes your hands in his, leading you to the door at the front, where he locks up, turns back and motions to you to follow him now, dropping your hands.

There's an upstairs to the bar hidden in the kitchen with slim, creaking stairs. A door stands in front of you as Halfdan works the locks, opening the stained door to a rather lovely living room.

"So," Halfdan admits sheepishly as he scratches the shaved side of his head, "Welcome to my place. Let's get comfortable."

-----------

Tags; @naaladareia

#vikings #halfdan fanfic #halfdan the black x reader #halfdan fic #halfdan x reader #halfdan the black x fem!reader #part two coming very soon #i promise for it to be better and spicier #vikings fanfiction #vikings fic #vikings fandom #halfdan the black #modern!Halfdan #also #liquid therapy? best thing I've written yet #quick read through and i hope i caught all mistakes

[istorkyou]

A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings - violence between male and female, guns, angst, mentions of death.

Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls​​ @youbloodymadgenius​​ @momowhoo​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer​ @pieces-by-me​ @heavenly1927​​ @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint​​ @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy​ @petite-hime​​ @serasvictoria​​ @mimiiinspace​​ @itsmysticalmystery​​ @lonewolf471​​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​​ @draculasbride-blog​​ @love-all-things-writing​​ @southernbe​​ @redhead7799​​ @kaybee87​​ @ivarlover​​ @ivarhoegh​​ @idgafiamallthefandoms​​ @darkphoenix5037​​ @profoundtyrantharmony​​ @snarling-through-our-smiles​​ @crazyunsexycool​​ @xceafh​​ @noway4u @batmandallyboy​​ @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73​​​​ @meandmycherrytree

Masterlist

Chapter 13

The sun rises. It rises over the night of screaming, the violence, the tears and the blood and the bruises.

She has said all she can. Explained her old self as best she can to the man she loves. The man she spent a year betraying. The man who was nothing more than her mission in the beginning.

He’s worked out his disbelief, his anger, his despair and his sheer, unadulterated pain at her betrayal on her. She is battered and bloodied and still as sorry as she was when she learned her own truth.

Some part of him knows that she has allowed him to do this to her. That if she really wanted to she could have stopped him with one raised fist, an expertly directed kick, even one well placed word. But she has allowed him to take out everything she believes she deserves in her body. Between each blow telling him that she loves him and how sorry she is for the actions of the woman she was, the actions of a woman who didn’t know him yet. Who didn’t know his true nature and how he could be on the inside. The actions of a puppet used by the manipulative father she met in her deep grief.

He walks away from her, crumpled in a heap on the kitchen tiles, face swollen from his fists, cuts seeping her life blood.

She thinks about fleeing. She could. He’s been careful to not break any of her bones, she could walk to one of the cars now and leave the estate, make her way back to Lev. Her father. For what though? The only person on the whole planet she cares about is in a bathroom down the hall.

If she is to die here, so be it. She will die looking into the face of the man she betrayed.

The man she loves.

She hears his steps on the tiles and looks up to see him holding cotton wool and a bottle of antiseptic.

“Up you get, Liet. I will clean you up,” he says as he holds his hands out to her. She takes his hand in her own and allows him to guide her to the squishy sofas she’s always loved.

He cleans her face, the cuts he has left and places an ice pack on her lip.

“My love. What am I going to do with you?” he asks softly as he wipes the blood from her elbows.

She swallows thickly as her heavy eyelids allow her eyes to meet his face for just a second. She knows he is surveying her face, looking at the damage he has rightly inflicted on her. She lets her tongue to slide along her bottom lip, gathering the fresh follow of crimson and loosening the dried flakes caked on already

“Kill me I would imagine.” She doesn’t let her eyes meet his now, she just takes the clean up kit from his hands and starts to wipe his bloodied knuckles clean. She cleans up the scratch marks in his forearms left behind from her nails and sets the kit on the coffee table. Only then does she allow herself to look at him, the look of regret, of sadness, of pure inevitability is over his feature.

“Don't feel guilty. It is no more than the old me deserves my love. I have told you everything I gave them. My love, please, please believe me. I fell in love with you before I lost my memory. I told them I wasn’t doing it any more, that I was in love with you and that’s why Lev did it.” She sees his face, shocked. “It was Lev, Ivar. He was behind the wheel. Before, he would ask me to meet him at the gym and I would give him anything I had gleaned. Until I admitted to myself I was in love with you. I gave them nothing of merit after, I promise. Just enough to keep them off my back, nothing that would hurt you or the family. Nothing of any substance for a long time before the accident. The day I told him I was finished with them was the day of my accident. He drove his car into me as I left the gym.”

“Lev? The man you were with? The man who trained you? The man at the gala whose hands were over you in front of everyone? The man who you fucked behind my back?”

“Ivar. Please.”

“Was it that man?” he screams at her.

“For fucks sake, if you want to boil it down to the bare goddamn bones then yes, it was that man! But if you would listen to me and accept my explanation it would be better!” She has ripped a healing cut on the side of her mouth open with her shouting. He dabs at it with a cotton ball and it stings.

“I did what I was trained to do. I had a normal life before my parents died and I found out about Oleg. He used me, manipulated me when I was deep in grief, used my vulnerability to gaslight me into doing what he wanted. Lev manipulated me as well. I’m not totally blame free, I knew what I was doing was wrong, obviously I did, but I justified it to myself that I was doing it out of love, that I was protecting my new family. It wasn’t until I met you, got to know you that I realised what real love looked like. I hate myself for what I did to you and your family. I deserve nothing less than what you will do to me, Ivar.”

“Have you fucked him since we got married? Have you fucked him since the accident? Don’t you fucking lie to me!” He grabs her shoulder, pushing his thumb hard on a wound.

She cries out in pain. “No! I promise. Not since way before the wedding. I made excuses.”

She watches as he covers his face, digging his fingers into his forehead, dragging them down his face leaving red lines on his skin. He looks at her, first with sadness on his face but it very quickly turns into rage, unadulterated anger at her again and he shifts towards her, his hand around her throat, his other hand raised behind his head in a fist, knuckles white. He hesitates when she makes a frightened squeak, seeing tears slip from her eyes again.

She scrunches her eyes shut, waiting for the impact, waiting for more split skin, the bones of her nose to be broken by his fists, but it doesn’t come, neither does oxygen into her body as he squeezes her throat tighter. Her eyes open to find his brimmed with tears and she knows this is the end. She is looking into the eyes of her murderer, the person who will send her to hell, even with this realisation she can’t help but try and smile at him, try to let him know that she understands his actions, that she doesn’t blame him.

She chokes out as best she can with his hands restricting her. “Sorry.. love you.” Her vision darkens as the lack of oxygen starts to shut her down, her heart starts to slow, a fraction but she can feel it. She knows, mercifully, she will be unconscious before death takes her. She feels the pressure in her eyeballs, and with that pressure comes a change in Ivar’s face, a fear, a realisation that removes his hands from her throat and allows sweet, sweet breath back into her windpipe, inflating her lungs, allowing oxygen to flow into her bloodstream, travelling to her heart, her brain, causing her to cough and suck in as many breaths as she can. She falls forward when his hands leave her, only to feel them on her back, rubbing circles gently.

“Baby, why did you have to do this?! I love you so much and now I’m without a choice! Ragnar will never allow you to…. It's your fault some of our best men, our allies, are dead. Why so many of our deals went south. Oh god, Liet! The family will make you suffer! I can’t stop that.” The next noise that leaves him is so devastating that she sobs. He screams up at the ceiling, anger, frustration, all the betrayal and the inevitability of his own impending grief spill out of him, travelling throughout the house like a poisonous gas, sent to kill them both.

She crawls to him, leaving bloody marks all over their beautiful sofa, until she is close enough to pull his head to her chest, feeling his tear soak into her skin, his pain wash over her, pulling her under, the guilt of her own betrayal rising bile in her throat.

“I was a different person, not me. Not your Liet, I can’t explain it any better than I have. I stopped betraying you as soon as I admitted to myself how I felt about you. When I felt safe away from them.They threatened to kill you in front of me then torture me to death if I didn’t do it. You are the only man I’ve ever loved, I didn’t know the meaning of it until I met you. I’ve loved you with my whole heart and soul, before and after the accident. I know I won’t survive this, Ivar. I know that. You need to understand that I have come to terms with it. When I found out who I was, what I did when I was Etta, my absolute betrayal of you, my soul died anyway. I’ve been empty ever since, only surviving because of all that you give me, like a disgusting parasite.”

No sooner do the words leave her mouth then he claps his hands over it. “Never, ever speak about yourself in such a manner to me. You are no parasite, you are the my soulmate, my one and only. Forever. I need to speak to my Father.”

He lessens the grip on her mouth. “I have a book that you can give him. It has every detail I ever have over to my father. Dates, people. It’s in Russian but I have translated it. The phone I used will support the dates. They are hidden behind the black, studded Louboutins, the ones with the red soles. Show him everything.”

He leaves her on the couch, she slumps back onto the pillows allowing a moment's rest as he searches for her evidence. When he comes back with it in his hand he stares at her for a long time. “Liet, I am going to show my father this. Do I need to secure you to something? Handcuff you? Get someone to watch you? I am asking you if you will run.”

She sighs deeply and starts to cry. “I won’t run. I’ve nowhere to run. You are all that matters in my life. If I’m not with you I might as well be dead anyway.”

He rushes to her, he throws himself in her, forcing his arms behind her shoulder and neck and pulls her tight to him. She can feel him breathing her in, trying to commit her smell to memory, in case this will be the last time. He untangles himself as his tears drop onto her skin like summer rainfall, running down her skin, leaving their mark on her. He doesn’t meet her eyes as he turns from her to leave. She makes no fuss.

As the front door slams she rises from the sofa, pushes the exterior lights on and walks to the pool. It’s cold out, but the vapour rising off the pool, being blown into the atmosphere by the cool northwest wind invites her. She strips naked and walks into the pool by the sloping steps. She sits, submerged to her shoulders, watching the illuminated water turn pink from the blood seeping from her wounds, but she cares not. The warm water envelops her, soothing her like the baths her mother ran for her as a child. She shakes the memory of the times her and Lev spent in the tub at her fathers estate, him cleaning wounds he inflicted on her during her training. This is different. The wounds she has now are deserved and she should absolutely feel the sting of chlorine in each and everyone one of them.

Her legs float in front and lies flat, treading water, looking up at the clear, star strewn sky. Like a black canopy dotted with holes.

Her last night on this earth.

Julietta feels no fear at all, only a deep anguish at forcing her husband's hand into killing her. Forcing her wonderful Ivar to use his nature against her.

She knows it will be the death of him eventually and it is this that makes her scream into the black of the night, her voice scaring the birds from the trees, reaching out into the universe, an agony heard by whatever dwells above and beyond.

“Liet,” Ivar’s voice interrupts her. She’s been in the pool for a long time without realising, her hands and feet are crinkly and the whole pool has a pink hue from her wounds. “Come out, love.” As she does as he says he wraps her in a towel and takes her to bed.

“Father has the information. No decision will be made tonight. We can rest easy.” He dries her off and tucks her into their bed before taking off his clothes and joining her. “I will clean you up properly tomorrow. I’ve got strong painkillers should you need them. Sleep now.”

She is too exhausted to ask any questions, she simply moves into his body, tucking herself into him and falls asleep when his arms pull her closer.

——————————————

He wakes in the morning to her hands over him, all perfect in his head before the memories start and the dead heart that only beats for her drops into his stomach. He remembers his father's words.

“She is your responsibility, Ivar. She is yours to deal with. I don’t need to tell you what needs to be done. You are shrewd enough to have known the very moment she disclosed herself to you. How you choose to do it is yours and yours alone.”

Ivar doesn’t even try to reason. There is no reasoning, he knows the only outcome. He says nothing about how grateful he is his father is allowing it to be him and not going full tilt, sending in mercenaries to deal with it. As Ivar turns to leave, Ragnar's voice stops him.

“She loves you, Ivar, but she cannot be trusted. Unlimited time is not available to you. Get it done. Keep me informed. No one will bother you in the estate. Got it?” Ivar nods tightly and heads back to her

He sleeps surprisingly well, her scent breaking through the swimming pool smell on her skin, soothing him. When he wakes fully she is over him, straddling his lap. He runs his hands over her perfect body, a body covered in old scars and wounds yet to mature into scars. She will always be the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, even battered and bruised. He watches tears fall from her eyes so he grabs at her, pulling her down on top of him and wraps his arms around her back, rubbing soothingly, until her sobs subside.

“We are going to go on holiday, you and I. We will go away for a week and allow ourselves to pretend none of this happened. Just be us again, carefree like in Sardinia. One week.”

She sits up and a smile graces her face. “One week.”

His face turns very stern all of sudden. “Julietta, do not use this opportunity to try and run, promise me baby? If you love me like you say you do…”

“I promise, Ivar. I promise.”

—————————————————

He manages to get them both off the estate and to the airfield where the private jet he chartered is waiting before he calls his father.

“Ivar.” Ragnar's voice is full of irritation.

“Father. One week. I will be home in one week. Alone.”

“Son, there will be severe consequences if this is your veiled attempt at setting her free. If she manages to get away I will not be pleased and I will send a force out to get her. Do not let her play you again.”

“Father. She loves me, this whole time hasn’t been her playing me. She loves me. I need this time with her. Once she is gone I will never be the same again. She won’t try to escape. One week with my wife then I will come home alone.”

Ragnar sighs audibly. “Okay. Ivar? When this is all done I will help you get through it. Okay son?”

——————————

Six days spent in paradise together, like honeymooners. They talk for hours, she tells him every detail of herself, how she met Oleg, Lev, her training. She tells him how she started to fall for him in Sardinia and why she had to turn cold, it was to save them both from Lev.

They both do a stellar job of ignoring the impending seventh day, but it comes quickly regardless.

She hears the safety of the gun click behind her, close to her head. She closes her eyes, and tucks some hair behind her ears.

Here it is then.

The end.

She had come to terms with it until two days ago and now she can’t allow it to happen. She needs to disarm him quickly, minimal fuss.

“Liet. Turn around.”

The click of the gun was a fraction to her right so she knows that’s the way to go. She catches him off guard as she leans forward quickly, spins on her right foot towards him landing her elbow into his ribs and grabbing his outstretched arm with the gun in it with her left hand. The gun goes off and a bullet ricochets into the rafters before she manages to jut the heel of her hand up onto his nose, taking advantage of his loss of balance she manages to get the gun. She stands, legs apart with the gun pointed at his head now.

Through the pain in his nose, through the tears caused by her punch he registers what he is seeing.

“I’m sorry, Ivar. I hate to see you in pain, sorry about your nose love.”

Ivar let’s out a huff of laughter. “It’s okay baby, I get it. You are so quick, I didn’t have any idea you were going to do that. Very impressive.”

“Thanks, baby! I thought I was rusty but it went quite smoothly.” She flashes him a smile of pride.

“So, are you going to kill me, Julietta?” He tilts his head to the side taking in her facial expression and he sees the tears form in her eyes.

“I could never do that to you, my love.”

“Ok. So what’s the plan? You are going to knock me out, escape? Even though you swore to me you wouldn’t?”

She nods her head slowly and regretful, “That’s the plan, baby. I’m going to have to break one of your legs so you can’t alert anyone and I’m so sorry about that love. I will make it clean so it heals quickly and neatly. I will knock you out first though.” She watches his hand go for his pocket. “No point, love. I took your phone earlier.” She says sadly. “Go and sit in that chair.” She points to one of the kitchen chairs and as he moves slowly, the gun in her hand still trained on him, she reaches into the sofa cushions and pulls out a length of rope.

He looks at it then back to her, as he sits heavily. He nods his head in realisation, “So you were always planning on betraying me again.”

“Oh, Ivar,” her eyes full with tears, “I wasn’t going to. I was going to disarm you and shoot myself to save you from having to do it, but something changed and now I need to escape. I hate it, I hate having to do this and hurt you again, but this is bigger than us now, I am doing this for both of us. One day you will understand.” Her eyes are pleading with him and he crosses his arms behind the chair letting her tie him to it. She weaves it through his legs and does it in a complicated knot that tightens the more it’s pulled on. “Try not to struggle too much, the rope will tighten if you do.” He tests it and she’s right. “Thanks for letting me do that with no fuss, love.”

She walks around in front of him and settles on her knees, arms resting across his legs. “I hate this. I’m so fucking angry at the way we met! I wish we were just two normal people who fell in love and can live happily ever after but that just isn’t in the cards for us. Neither of our fathers would allow me to live, no matter how much we both want it. It’s just so fucking unfair.

Ivar tips his head down to survey her face. It’s Liet, not Etta. She is being honest with him and he softens immediately. “It is unfair. We would have grown old together, love. But it is what it is. Come up here and give me a kiss.” She knows she’s done the knots well, there is no way he can get loose, so she does what he asks, she rises up and kisses him like it’s the last time.

Because it is the last time.

When they break apart they are both crying, she wipes his tears and then her own.

“So,” Ivar shakes his head a little, back to work mode, “the plan is you are going to knock me out, break my leg, escape somehow and then what? Where will you go?” He gives her a cheeky smile when he sees her raised eyebrows and a small chuckle leaves him. “Worth a try, hey love! You know we won’t stop until we find you, you know that baby?”

“I know. Ivar, do me a favour when you get home. Kill Lev for me. Make it hurt.” Waiting for his answer she strokes his face. “Make him hurt like he hurt me.”

“Done.”

“Okay. I don’t think there’s anything we can say. This is it I suppose. I love you. I will always love you. I will always be sorry and I will love you until my dying breath. I will find you in the next life, I promise you..” her voice cracks and she stands up in front of him. “Always have been the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life.” She smiles.

“I love you, Liet. Always have and I always will. Until we meet again.” A thought occurs to him. “What changed, you said something changed. What?”

She doesn’t realise it but her hand flies to her stomach and when she sees the realisation in his face she grabs the gun and smashes the butt if it into his temple and his world goes black. She can only hope he doesn’t remember her unconscious movement when he wakes up.

Chapter 14

#modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern vikings #ubbe #modern!ubbe #modern!hvitserk #ivar x oc #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #ivar vikings #ragnar #hvitserk ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #vikings ivar #ivar imagine #ivar ragnarsson x ofc

[nothingtolosebutweight]

Title: Final Masquerade Pairing: Ivar x Heahmund (Modern AU) Other Characters: Mention of Bjorn, Ubbe and Hvitserk - Sigurd got one or two sentences as well :D Words: ~8100 [AO3] Warnings: Insults, Bad opinions about gays, Swearing, Heartbreak, Angst, Hurt Summary: After the death of Sigurd, Ivar had only one task. To approach the investigating cop, get information about the state of the investigation, and distract him. He always did his job well, was proud of that too, but this time he had done one part too well. He had gotten too close to the cop named Heahmund, infecting himself with something he didn't know how to deal with along the way, which was slowly destroying his self from the inside out.

-------------------------------------------------------

He felt sick. 

Not only since today and also not only since yesterday. The feeling that something was wrong with him had been tormenting Ivar for quite a while now. It wasn't just a runny nose or a scratchy throat. With such things, he could have easily coped. No, it was much worse than that. Much more fatal. This particular disease ate its way torturously slowly through his insides and, judging by recent events, began to affect his entire existence and sense of self as well.

Since his early childhood, Ivar knew what it felt like to be sick. Ever since he was able to consciously perceive the world around him and put it into perspective for himself, it was clear to him that his body was different. Weak and sickly, not as resilient as the bodies of his healthy brothers.

However, this newly appeared disease was worse for him, harder to bear than his constantly aching legs. At least that's how it seemed to Ivar, because, unlike the impairment of his lower body, which he now considered normal, he was not used to it. Pain was his constant companion, and to many, it might seem strange, but he would prefer even worse pain over his current condition any day. What people might forget was that he had painkillers for his legs. He could take them and within a few minutes, the aching would become more bearable. He could also wrap himself in warm blankets or rub some herbal oil into his scarred skin there. Over the years, he had picked up a few tricks to make his life more comfortable, but with his recent problems, Ivar wasn't sure if there was any cure at all.

Everything had started about a year ago when he had been asked to do what he initially thought would be a simple job for the so-called family business. The contagion went unnoticed and insidiously until it had infected his entire body. Step by step. The more he became aware of it, the more it freaked Ivar out. There was nothing he had experienced so far that could explain these silly symptoms.

It had started with an accelerated heartbeat, which led to sweaty palms and a feeling of fever that kept creeping across his cheeks at the most inappropriate moments. His stomach reacted in the strangest way as well. It felt as if he had eaten a battery that still emitted electrical impulses from time to time. Even his lips were affected. They twisted into a smile more often than he would have liked, and he had also caught himself chuckling inanely, although what had been said had not even been funny. It had simply overtaken him, without his consent.

His once so clever and rational mind was also infected, if not to the highest degree. It felt as if maggots had taken up residence in his brain and were now cheerfully eating away his intelligence. This led to him catching himself saying stupid things or thinking of even stupider things almost every day. In the past, he had been able to concentrate on his work for several hours without any problems and had developed clever and, above all, successful strategies with which he had made a name for himself in the family business. But those days seemed to be over, because concentration was no longer so easy to achieve today. Every time Ivar tried to concentrate on his work, his thoughts would wander. They always revolved around the same topic, which really shouldn't be as important to him as it had become over the last months.

His relationship with his brothers was also marred due to constant quarrels and heated discussions about how he should handle the matter. But what did they know? After all, they didn't feel what he felt. They didn't know what it felt like for him, who had always been so level-headed and determined before, to feel so lost and helpless. Torn in a way. Being at the mercy of something intangible was tugging at the image he had of himself and, above all, wanted to maintain. He was no victim, no one to be ordered around, only he found it increasingly difficult to remain true to this image.

Everything just sucked - and not in the way he liked it.

Some time back, he had seen a documentary about a parasite that had made itself at home in the brain of its host and had taken over all its movements. The poor creature was doomed to spend the rest of his life as an empty shell, no longer in control of his body. It had become like a zombie and that's exactly how his situation felt to Ivar at times.

He was controlled from the outside, like a puppet hanging by strings or a moth magically attracted to the light without being able to do anything about it. The light source was its holy grail and so often its doom at the same time.

It was the same in his case.

His light, around which he thoughtlessly circled, went by the name of Heahmund. Heahmund van Sherborne to be more precise. He was both his holy grail and downfall.

Heahmund was the trigger of his symptoms, which his brothers had already quite quickly categorized under the non-medically versed diagnosis - love. 

For a long time, Ivar had vehemently resisted this insinuation and had repeatedly emphasized how ridiculous this claim was. Every time his brothers started talking about it, he had become angrier at how they could accuse him of such a dumb thing. They should know him better. He was convinced he was not able to love, nor did he strive to do so. He used people for his own benefit, made them dance according to his will. That's how things worked out for him, and with Heahmund it shouldn't have been any different, since the cop was only supposed to provide useful information. 

Back then, after Sigurd's sudden death, things in the family business had been a bit out of joint. The police, who usually never came too close to them, were suddenly investigating, asking too many unpleasant questions. Heahmund, one of the lead investigators at the time, had been particularly nice when he had questioned him - simply as a family member of the person who had died in such tragic circumstances. In the process, it had been impossible to overlook the fact that he had triggered a weak spot in the cop.

So, out of pure calculation, Ivar had crept into Heahmund's life. More and more often, he had visited him in his office for trivial matters, perfecting his role as a grieving brother who needed some comfort, a shoulder to lean on, and some distraction in the process.

He and his brothers always had to be one step ahead of the game. It wasn't just a saying that it was best to be close to your enemies. It worked in reality, too. Perhaps too well in his case.

That Heahmund would fall in love with him had never been the intention. Ivar never made plans that played on emotions. They were too uncertain as a basis and he knew too little about them himself - back then at least. Now he knew too much, carried too many of them around with him. 

Ivar found little comfort in the fact that he had done his job too well. The grieving younger brother, searching for justice and a sense of purpose in all the tragedy was certainly one of his best acting performances so far. Little did Heahmund know that Ivar did not care at all about Sigurd's death. It was only important to him that the background that had led to his brother's demise remained hidden. Therefore, of course, he had taken advantage of Heahmund's blinded heart. The man, who was a little more than 10 years older, had voluntarily given it into his hands. Who wouldn't have used such a great foundation to his own advantage?

Of course, it hadn't been easy to play along at first as their interactions became more intimate. It had definitely been a challenge to appear sweet and in love when he was around Heahmund. After all, he had no experience with love and how people should behave when they are in that silly state. In addition, it had cost him quite a bit to overcome the first tender advances, to allow closeness and still smile and not murder. But apparently, he had done his job well, or Heahmund had just really bad taste in partners. Whatever had caused his triumph, he had managed to keep up the facade, and one day the facade had unexpectedly transformed into reality.

Now Ivar felt like he was living in a fever dream from which he hasn't woken up yet.

That he would make a fool out of himself and also fall in love had surely also not been on his agenda. He certainly couldn't have foreseen it, and even if someone had prophesied it to him, Ivar wouldn't have believed them. It would have seemed too absurd to him, and yet it had happened. He had fallen head over heels in love with the handsome cop and it was the worst and best feeling at the same time. 

It was also a feeling he tried to hide from everyone except Heahmund, as he was already struggling to admit it to himself. To acknowledge it in front of others, to admit his failure - in his eyes - he was still miles away from that.

On weekends, and actually most other nights, he now preferred to stay at Heahmund's house on the outskirts of town. It was quiet there and the view was fantastic as well. His rational mind would like to consider these points as decisive, but of course, he preferred to spend his time at this place because Heahmund himself was present there. If not in person, then at least in all sorts of details that made his home his home. Ivar felt comfortable there, almost like at home.

In the moments when Heahmund trusted him enough to leave him alone in his house - sometimes getting them something to eat or having to leave urgently due to a job-related emergency - Ivar at least managed to remember his actual plan of looking for information about the Lothbrok case. It had been easy to figure out the password for Heahmund's private laptop. For being a police officer, he didn't necessarily protect his private data very well.  Ivar had had more problems with the work laptop, but with the help of Ubbe and Hvitserk, he had been able to hack into it without leaving any traces as well. That's where he had gotten most of his useful information so far.

Toward his brothers, he felt a little better after such deeds, because he could justify his constant absence more easily. After all, he had achieved results by spending time with Heahmund, and he never grew tired of emphasizing that this was thanks to his tactics and sacrifice. Nevertheless, they kept accusing him of self-interest, of being in love with Heahmund, and Ivar also never grew tired of vehemently denying these accusations. 

In front of his brothers, he tried to maintain his cool and emotionless facade. Every time he returned to his real home, he tried to pretend that he was glad to finally be back. By now, Ivar had become quite the performer among his brothers. He made a spectacle of taking extensive showers, as if he had to clean himself from all the touches he had suffered. At least that's how he told it, not shying away from making fun of Heahmund and his feelings for him in the process as well.

Every time he exploited Heahmund's trust in this way, and especially when he spoke so badly about him behind his back, his heart ached and he simply felt guilty. It was no longer easy for him to fall asleep right away, because he was probably experiencing what others call a guilty conscience for the first time.

None of what he told his brothers was true.

Of course, he enjoyed being with Heahmund, usually could hardly wait to get back to the outskirts after a short time apart. Just listening to Heahmund talk about the most mundane things had become special to him. It soothed him, made him feel at peace in a certain way. Heahmund gave him a serenity that Ivar hadn't previously known he needed in his life to balance his aggression. This man had such a wonderfully soothing voice and so much knowledge in his handsome head that it was never boring just to sit next to him and listen. 

Most of the time, however, it didn't stop there. Heahmund was a person who wanted and needed physical contact. He always made sure that they could somehow feel connected to each other through tender touches. He would either let his fingers dance over his back, massage his legs, hold him in a hug, or just intertwine their fingers together. Heahmund always found a way to be close to him, to kiss and caress him in the most fabulous way. 

To this day, Ivar still couldn't bear hugs from other people, his brothers included - even if they were very rare - but in Heahmund's arms, Ivar could spend whole nights, sleeping like a baby without a care in the world. He had no idea what was different about them, what Heahmund did differently, but they just felt so much better. In fact, he didn't want to be without all these sweet little gestures anymore. By now, he also sought the initially hated closeness of his own accord.

The fact that he preferred to spend his time with Heahmund and came home less and less often with something concrete, because he neglected his research, led to increased quarrels with his brothers, especially with his eldest. One particularly heated argument had ended with Bjorn now forever bearing a souvenir in the form of a scar on his forehead - and rightly so.

—---------- AT SOME POINT IN THE PAST —-----------

"Wow, it's rare to see you home, Ivar. I'll tell you again, you're getting too close to the cop. You've become reckless, too soft since you developed feelings for this idiot."

Bjorn had just walked in the door, hadn't even taken off his jacket, and immediately started talking to him without being asked. Probably some frustration had built up during the days of his absence, Ivar thought.

"Welcome home, brother." There was a false sweetness in his voice. Only briefly, Ivar looked up from his laptop and offered Bjorn an equally fake smile. "No, I'm not getting too close to him, because, given the urgency of the matter, I can't be close enough. You know as well as I do that we need to know how far they've gotten with their investigation. I'm not reckless either. I know what I'm doing." It was one thing to admit to himself his feelings for Heahmund. That alone still gave him a twinge of self-loathing. To do it in front of his family, his brothers, and especially Bjorn was out of the question.

"It doesn't look like it," Bjorn answered as he approached the table where Ivar had made himself comfortable in their communal space - something he already started to regret. 

"For you, maybe, but you've never really understood strategically elaborate plans either, so I'm not too worried about your concerns." Ivar couldn't help himself. He had to grin cheekily in Bjorn's face; any other reaction would simply not fit his brother's ridiculous accusations.

"Go ahead and tell yourself that, but what I saw looked pretty much like my little brother was all hearty eyes over that bastard. You should be ashamed of yourself." The disgusted expression on Bjorn's face clearly highlighted his opinion about the matter. Thankfully, Ivar didn't have to endure this for long, as Bjorn turned around and went to the fridge to grab himself a glass of some chilled apple juice. 

"What are you talking about?" On the outside, Ivar remained cool, pretended to be semi-interested in what Bjorn had to say, even started writing in his open document again. Inwardly, however, his thoughts were racing. He went through all the opportunities within the last week where he had been out with Heahmund. Where could Bjorn have seen them? In the ice cream parlor in the middle of town? Had he watched them on their shopping trip afterward? Or a few days later in the park when they had met for an impromptu picnic? Or maybe he had just seen them out for a walk. In the evenings, they often went for walks together, as long as his legs would allow. As he reviewed everything, it struck Ivar himself how cheesy all these meetings - he refrained from calling them dates - had been. Perhaps he had indeed become a little careless.

"About you disrespecting yourself by kissing him, and that not just once and not just fleetingly. You clung to him like a schoolgirl in love ready to lift her skirt."

The comparison made Ivar's face grimace. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. He didn't want to give his brother the satisfaction of knowing he had hit a nerve, even though everyone around him knew that an attack on his ego always elicited the best reactions. With a snort, he let the held air escape and looked up, looking right into Bjorn's face, who had now turned around again and was pointing his finger at him.

"Don't even start denying it."

"It's called acting, Bjorn. I pretend that I care for him, otherwise, I couldn't get so close to high-value information. Like the ones, I'm trying to process right now. I really don’t have time for your bullshit." 

"As if!" Bjorn positioned himself in front of the table, tapping his index finger vehemently against the tabletop as if this would give his statement more emphasis. "I saw you. You don't need to tell me anything about pretending." Bjorn raised his hands and gestured quotation marks with his index and middle fingers. "It looked zero like you didn't enjoy it."

Ivar laughed with a sneer. "So what? Just because your girlfriends make sad faces around you and act distant and uninvolved when you try to initiate physical contact doesn't mean that other couples can't show a little more affection. Even fake ones. Is this your real issue? You're jealous because my fake love life is better than your real one? If so, that's pathetic,  even for you." Turning to insults might not be the best idea, but it was the first one that came to Ivar's mind to get out of the center of the accusations himself.

The tactic proved unsuccessful. Although Bjorn's expression turned to anger and he clenched his fists, he recognized the intent behind Ivar's words.

"Don't change the subject, you little bastard."

Slightly amused by the insult, but still more and more annoyed by the whole situation, Ivar leaned back in his chair, looking defiantly at his brother. "You accuse me that my efforts look too real? Are you serious about that? Well, maybe it's because I'm just really good at pretending. Or how else could you think that I give a damn about your opinion, huh? Because I let you believe that I care what you think, but let me tell you a secret, Bjorn. I don't. Never have, surely never will. So how about you stop stealing my time and instead you find yourself a bunch of old ladies with whom you can talk about feelings, hm?" To make it clear that he really wasn't interested in any further conversation, Ivar grabbed his headphones, but before he could put them on, Bjorn snatched them out of his hands.

"Give them back. Right now!" Ivar was on the verge of losing his already meager patience. Hastily, he tried to grab Bjorn's arm to prevent him from moving the headphones out of his reach, but he hadn't been fast enough. Because of his impaired legs, he couldn't just jump up and get them back himself either. Getting up always took a little longer for him, as he had to proceed carefully so as not to overstrain his legs. It made him angry that Bjorn had to exploit this weakness now, and instead of complying with the expressed request, his brother only chuckled and certainly didn't waste one single thought on finally leaving him alone. Instead, he leaned toward him, sniffing exaggeratedly.

"His stench is all over you, I can smell him from here."

This statement caused Ivar to roll his eyes. "Don't confuse Heahmund's expensive fragrance with the bullshit that's coming out of your mouth. Just shut the fuck up and you'll notice it will stop reeking. And now give me my headphones back!" He tried again, holding out his hand expectantly.

Bjorn demonstratively hung the headphones over the back of the chair next to him, far enough away from Ivar's reach so that he wouldn't be able to grab them from his current position. Satisfied with his little revenge, he grinned, hiding his actually upset state of mind. Bjorn hated that Ivar always managed to turn the tables, but he too knew where his brother's weak spots were.

"You've got a pretty big mouth for someone who's turned into such a pussy lately."

Now Ivar raised his hand and index finger admonishingly. "You'd better watch how you talk to me," he said in a cold voice, making it clear that he'd really had enough.

"Oh yeah, why is that?" Bjorn asked challengingly as he pushed back the chair right next to Ivar's to sit on it.

"Because I'm the one who's doing the most here. I operate far away from my comfort zone to protect all of us. Maybe just show a little gratitude, huh?" Ivar spat out and rolled his eyes in annoyance when Bjorn, instead of finally leaving, made himself comfortable.

"Oh come on. Like your comfort zone isn't between the cop's legs."

Yes, it was, but it was nothing like Bjorn seemed to imagine with his limited brain capacity. Heahmund had become like a safe place for him, and when they watched TV together, Ivar usually sat with his back leaning against Heahmund's chest, snuggled close to him, and in that position, of course, also between his legs. Quite innocently, as almost all their more intimate moments were. More than handjobs hadn't happened so far. Despite all the feelings raging inside him, Ivar wasn't ready for sex yet, Heahmund wasn't pushing him either. It was a subject that was very much on Ivar's mind. He felt that he wanted it, that his body responded to Heahmund, craving for more. After all, he also was just a boy with needs, but his head kept him from initiating more on his own. Sex in itself was already an upsetting subject, sex with another man and one he shouldn't even be attracted to in the first place made it all even more complicated and embarrassing. That's why Ivar felt so grossed out by his brother's new accusation.

There was the fear of losing respect from his brothers if they realized the extent of his feelings or if he confirmed their already existing suspicions one day. Would they despise him? Feel that he was worth less? Ivar assumed so.

"Your mind is so rotten, it’s disgusting," Ivar said, shaking his head in disbelief at what he had to deal with. He still tried to stay calm, to not let his own embarrassment about the whole situation creep to the surface as well as his anger that Bjorn was insulting him in such a way. His ego had definitely been bruised already.

"You are rotten, Ivar, a fucking faggot who claims that letting yourself be fucked in the ass qualifies as information gathering."

Ivar had already had enough ten minutes ago, but this new allusion made his patience thread snap. Quickly enough that Bjorn couldn’t react in time, he jerked upright, grabbed his brother by a tuft of hair on the top of his head and yanked his head down by it. Satisfaction spread through him as he heard the dull sound of a head hitting the tabletop with full force. When he saw fine drops of blood splattering on the surface, Ivar's grin grew even wider. He ignored the pain this sudden movement caused in his legs, his fury was pumping too hard in his veins for that to stop him.

Bjorn groaned in pain and grabbed his forehead to feel the now wet spot.

"Who's the pussy now, huh?" Ivar asked mockingly as he slid his hand to the back of his brother's head and pushed him forward again. All the hurtful things Bjorn had said before were far from settled with a simple laceration. His brother, however, regained his composure faster than Ivar would have liked. He resisted the pressure and instead gave Ivar a hard blow to the chest that drove the air out of his lungs and made him fall backward along with his chair.

Within seconds, Bjorn stood up, staggered briefly, and settled down on his shins next to Ivar. He grabbed his youngest brother by the collar of his shirt, yanked him up and, without hesitation, slapped him across the face with the flat of his hand. 

Ivar reacted quickly, clenching his hand into a fist and striking back blindly, sensing only from the pain in his hand that he had landed a blow somewhere.

A fight broke out, which was only interrupted by the arrival of Ubbe and Hvitserk, who had been alerted by the loud noises and shouting of insults. Due to the quick intervention, the confrontation ended without any serious consequences. Only the laceration on Bjorn's forehead and a bruised rib on Ivar's side and some scratches and bruises remained. As well as a large portion of injured pride on both sides.

"Never forget what happened to Sigurd," Ivar called out to Bjorn as he was being pulled out of the room by Ubbe. It had almost led to another brawl, but Ubbe and Hvitserk did their best to keep the two away from each other.

"Is that a threat?" 

"No, just well-intentioned advice, my dear brother."

—---------- BACK IN THE PRESENT —-----------

Since then, it had only gotten worse. 

His relationship with Bjorn had remained frosty, as his brother continued to spy on him and didn't even feel the need to make a secret of it. He had also begun to ask more and more often, and especially more insistently, why he had been to Heahmund several times in a row and had come home without anything useful. He especially liked to do this in front of Ubbe and Hvitserk, which led to growing suspicion among them as well. Excuses were increasingly difficult to find and less and less accepted by all his brothers.

Bjorn's accusation that he had gone soft also unintentionally still haunted Ivar. Like a thorn, it had lodged itself deep inside him, causing unpleasant feelings from time to time. To compensate for this, he acted even more cold-heartedly than before in other areas. Only a few days ago, he had shot someone in front of his brothers without batting an eye. It had been absolutely not necessary. They could have made a statement in some other, less fatal way, but he had done it anyway, and so far no guilty conscience plagued him. Instead, it had felt good, somehow reassuring that his old reckless self was still there, shimmering menacingly beneath the surface.

However, in all areas that had to do with Heahmund, Bjorn was unfortunately right. Of course, Ivar already knew this by heart, but the extent to which this had already invaded his whole being nonetheless surprised him in the end.

It had brought him to a hospital. Not as a patient. No. Although the consideration was there to have himself admitted because Ivar felt sicker than ever before. Maybe, if he would ask nicely, his heart could be removed and replaced with a better, a smarter one. None that hurt so damn much since it had been smashed into a thousand little pieces not even 36 hours ago.

His stomach also rebelled, felt so heavy like it was filled with cement. The cause wasn't that he had eaten too much, for he hadn't been able to eat anything since yesterday. What was heavy on his stomach were the thoughts of what lay ahead and the pressure of knowing exactly what was now expected of him. All the doubts about whether all the last months had just been an illusion that he had blindly fed himself only added to the weight.

He was angry, very angry in fact. At Bjorn, at Heahmund and above all at himself. This also contributed to his discomfort, but the worst was the hurt and disappointment he was struggling with at the same time. Ivar felt completely lost, not sure what to believe and how to go on.

The reason for his inner turmoil was a simple file, not even a thick one. Bjorn had handed it to him yesterday morning with an arrogant grin that only widened when he saw the color drain from his face while looking at the contents. In it were photos, various documents, and half-scribbled notes. He had, after the first understanding of what he was looking at had set in, only been able to see it as if through a veil. Today he would no longer be able to describe exactly what he had seen, but Bjorn's taunting expression, Ivar had not forgotten - probably would not be able to forget for a long time. Too much shame had spread through him at the moment of realizing the full implications.

Shame that he had allowed himself to be toyed with, that he hadn't seen through Heahmund himself, but had fallen into his trap, blinded by something trivial like feelings.

It had pissed him off even more that Bjorn, in a way, had front-row tickets to his personal misery and that, of course, he had to be the one to rub his failure into his face. It wouldn't have been any easier to digest if Ubbe or Hvisterk had shared this information with him, but it would have been easier to lose his face in front of them. None of them would have enjoyed it as much as his oldest brother had.

Ivar also felt ashamed, because his first thought after becoming aware of the consequences was along the lines that Bjorn must have falsified the evidence presented. Despite the amount of proof, he still refused to believe what he had seen and read. He would prefer to turn off reason to avoid having to deal with the consequences of his misjudgment. To be betrayed by the person he had accepted into his heart was too bitter a pill to swallow.

The rage that had multiplied in him since then should have been enough to fuel his personal vendetta, to teach everyone involved in this spectacle a lesson. At least, that's what his old self would have done in a heartbeat. His old, uninfected self. Anything would be more understandable than him sitting here now, next to a hospital bed like a desperate wife, watching Heahmund's every little move, hoping that he would open his eyes again.

Fuck this thing called love! Fuck him in the first place that he had fallen for it! And fuck him, that he still couldn’t break loose from it.

Originally he had come into this room to put an end to his suffering, to really kill his source of light this time when three bullets were not enough to bring Heahmund down. Bullets that Bjorn had fired while Ivar had only been able to stand by, watching as if in trance as the bullets forced their way out of the gun in small explosions, only to burst into Heahmund's body milliseconds later. It all had happened as if in slow motion, and yet too quickly for him to have been able to prevent it.

The terrible feeling of seeing the person to whom one's heart belonged lying motionless on the floor still weighed heavily on Ivar. He would certainly not be able to forget those images either. At that moment, it had felt as if he himself was dying, or at least an important part of him. All the anger and rage he had felt towards Heahmund before had vanished the moment he had thought him dead. For a split second, there had been only emptiness inside him. Utter silence, until suddenly he was swept away by a wave of various emotions. All at once. The sheer force almost sent him to his knees had he not been leaning heavily against the car behind him.

Grief had been one of those feelings. Something he had never felt before, not even with Sigurd, his own brother. The emotion had been so strong that it had brought tears to his eyes, and with it, it had also brought him a new wave of ridicule from Bjorn. While his brother had dragged him into the getaway car, he had heard him laughing and calling him names again. 

Ivar hadn't been able to pay much attention to that, which in retrospect had probably been better that way. A new quarrel, which might have ended in them killing each other, would certainly have broken out otherwise. His focus was solely directed at what was happening in the distance, as long as he could still catch a glimpse of it. The last thing he had seen was Heahmund's colleagues starting to take care of him. They all had rushed to his side, starting to put pressure on the wounds, shouting for an ambulance.

Back at home, Ivar hadn't wasted another second. He had immediately barricaded himself in his part of the house, making phone calls and calling in favors as if in a frenzy. Thus he had been able to find out quite quickly to which hospital Heahmund had been taken and that he had been brought there as an emergency and not as a corpse.

It was hard to put into words how relieved he had felt at that moment, and after he had finished that last call, he had simply sunk to the floor, tears freely streaming down his face - even though he was deeply ashamed of it, because crying was indeed something for sissies in his worldview. But at that moment he had been unable to control himself, even less than before. He had to surrender to his feelings in this way.

Although he didn't want to cry again, Ivar was on the verge of losing his composure once more. Seeing Heahmund so vulnerable hurt immensely. Ivar let his gaze glide over him. Heahmund was so pale and his face was adorned with a violet-bluish discoloration that Ivar couldn't make sense of. His hair was disheveled, and his half-naked torso was decorated with thick bandages over his shoulder and chest area. 

He was sitting here for 30 minutes now, and so far he had done nothing but sink into self-pity and stare at Heahmund's deceptively peaceful-looking face, questioning for the hundredth time everything they had experienced together so far.

The more he questioned everything, the more little things he found that should have made him suspicious. That Heahmund had never forced himself on him or even tried to get further into his pants was one of those things that he now found strange. Back then, Ivar had simply thought of him as a gentleman who could sense his discomfort in this regard and therefore didn't rush things between them. All in all, they had only been seeing each other for real for about six months. Wasn't this still a normal period of time for couples to slowly get to know each other? Ivar thought so at least and had also felt comfortable with their pacing. But now it seemed to him as if Heahmund had had no interest in going that far from the beginning. For undercover missions, there were certainly guidelines that he was not allowed to exceed for the sake of his internal police credibility.

Ivar wondered if perhaps handjobs weren't supposed as too much as well, or if he could use the fact that they had done this to continue to trust Heahmund after all? 

He had trusted him. Too much, probably, as he had to admit to himself now in retrospect. He had never told Heahmund anything that could be the undoing of his family, but he had been careless with his cell phone. He had often left it unattended while he was not in the same room. One situation, that should have made him more alert, Ivar still remembered.

He had gone to the bathroom shortly after they decided to call it a night and go to sleep. When he had left the room again, Heahmund came up to him with his cell phone in his hand. Whether the display had been on, Ivar could no longer tell, but that they had both paused for a moment, he still remembered. Heahmund had explained to him that he wanted to take it into the bedroom with him, and apologized just as directly in case he had crossed a line by doing so. That had been enough for Ivar to dismiss the incident as a thoughtful gesture, but of course, Heahmund had had plenty of time to snoop at that moment, and in many more later. Cops were certainly just as good at hacking access points as he was.

Love had indeed made him completely stupid.

Ivar leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. His gaze fell on the small object he held in his sweaty palm. Thoughtfully, he let his thumb glide over the smooth surface, watching the clear liquid sloshing around in it, wondering whether or not he should use it. Perhaps he had found the cure for the parasite inside him? He could end its torment. It was just a simple act. He had actually done it before, and he hadn't thought much about it then, he had just done it, without hesitation. Efficiently, quickly, 100% successfully.

A small part of him hoped that he would get his old self back when Heahmund was gone. But could he simply leave everything behind then? Act coldly and calculatingly in all situations again, without letting himself be guided by feelings? Or had too much of Heahmund's light already spread through him? Damaged him forever?

These were questions that buzzed through his head in addition to everything else. Ivar couldn't answer any of those with certainty, nor could he answer the question if he even wanted to return to this version of his old self if it meant losing Heahmund for good.

With another heavy sigh caused by his mental struggles, Ivar slid forward in his seat and propped himself up on the edge of the bed with both forearms. Carefully, he placed the syringe from his hand next to him on the mattress and then reached for Heahmund's hand, which he clasped with both of his. He was careful not to touch the cannula sticking out of the back of the hand, which looked chalky white due to the heavy blood loss Heahmund had suffered.

The thought of not wanting to inflict more pain on Heahmund crossed his mind, and Ivar shook his head with a sigh only seconds later. What a fool he was. He felt so stupid and useless. 

He had come here to take revenge on Heahmund and also to restore his standing among his brothers. Yet he was worried he might harm Heahmund with simple touches, yet he felt relief every time he saw the chest in front of him lifts a little due to a shallow inhale. He didn’t want to find the rhythmic sound of Heahmund’s heart monitors to be soothing for him. But he did.

Just as carefully as before, he moved their joined hands to his lips and pressed them against the unusually cold fingers. Immediately Ivar thought back to the beautiful moments during the past months, how Heahmund had stroked his hair with those very fingers or grabbed his chin to pull him into a kiss. The memories still gave him a comforting feeling. The anger and disappointment at the possible betrayal couldn't repress that. His softness was obviously stronger, and that also made Ivar realize that he wouldn't be able to do what he had come here for. There was simply no way he could end Heahmund's life, too great was the relief that he had survived the three gunshot wounds - two of them to the chest - in the first place.

How deluded had he been, to not be well aware of this before? Perhaps he had only had to lie to himself sufficiently, to convince himself that he could kill Heahmund, in order to appear convincing in front of his brothers, too. If he wouldn't be here, one of them would have taken it from him, and then the matter would surely have been settled. None of his brothers would be sitting here brooding.

Ivar kissed Heahmund's fingers again, letting his lips stay attached to them for a while longer. Another thought crossed his mind, making his eyes water again. Even if he wasn’t going to kill the man in front of him, he could not return to his side and pretend that nothing had happened either.

He had lost him one way or another. His first love, the first person he felt at ease with. The realization hurt more than the knowledge that he might have been betrayed.

If only he could confront Heahmund and ask him his side of things. Ivar still hoped that Bjorn had made everything up, that of course Heahmund loved him, and that they could just go on from where they had left off less than 36 hours ago. But Heahmund was sound asleep, had only been discharged from his second emergency operation an hour ago, and was actually not even allowed visitors yet. Ivar had been lucky that one of the nurses knew him and therefore also knew that she would be in a similar condition in another bed if she hadn't let him through.

Ivar sat in silence as time passed mercilessly. The ticking of the clock on the other side of the room echoed louder and louder in his head. 

He tried to think. He knew he had to act, the faster the better. He couldn't return home and ask his brothers to spare Heahmund's life and himself the ridicule that would follow. At least Bjorn wouldn't think anything of it and wouldn't want to hear about compromise. The fronts between them were too hardened by now. Ivar was less concerned about Ubbe and Hvitserk. Those two were not so iron-fisted, didn’t see only black and white. They would somehow understand him, accept even a compromise maybe.

While thinking about a possible strategy, he could not refrain from running his fingertips over Heahmund's arm all the way up to his exposed shoulder. These would be the last moments he could be close to him, so Ivar wanted to be as close as possible. Make good use of them without being too creepy. He simply had to feel Heahmund one more time, to absorb everything that would be denied to him from now on. He was probably only torturing himself even more, but Ivar pushed this awareness aside. He would enjoy it now and would have plenty of time later to hate himself for having acted that way, inflicting even more pain onto him.

Secretly, Ivar also hoped that he could give Heahmund a good feeling with his presence, that he would feel safe in case he was able to perceive anything around him. The thought that he might be the last person Heahmund would want with him now, he repressed as well. Instead, thoughts about kissing Heahmund one more time took over the wheel.

Only gently, tentatively, worried he might disrupt the oxygen supply, Ivar joined their lips in a brief kiss before pulling away again, looking down at the handsome face that showed no emotion or sign that he was aware of his surroundings.

How he would like to look once again into Heahmund's bright eyes, which in the best case were still filled with love and admiration. But this wish would remain unfulfilled and maybe it was better that way. Ivar didn't know how he would bear it when there was no more love in them. This way he could hold on to the memory and his wishful thinking.

Except for the beeping of the monitor next to the bed and the ticking of the clock, the room remained quiet. The silence invited Ivar to indulge in one more moment of togetherness.

He moved the chair more to the headboard and leaned his upper body down. It was uncomfortable, but he managed to lie halfway on the bed so that at least his head and half of his chest rested on the mattress. His nose nudged against Heahmund's temple while his lips pressed feather-light kisses on every spot he reached. In a low voice, he began to speak, telling Heahmund that he was sorry. He made no confession about his former crimes, he still had that much sense left, but he still felt the need to apologize.

So close to Heahmund, once again enjoying his soothing aura, Ivar's head cleared a little, coming up with an idea that formed into a promising strategy the more he pursued this train of thought. After the plan took shape and still seemed promising, Ivar slowly straightened up. Once again he kissed Heahmund, at first only on top of his head, then again fleetingly on his lips before he leaned down to reach his backpack, which stood next to the chair he was sitting on. He opened it, reached in, rummaged around searching, and finally pulled out the item he was looking for.

It was one of his prepaid cell phones, which he often needed in his job. While he switched it on, he turned his gaze back to Heahmund, weighing once again whether he was doing the right thing. But without a magic crystal ball, who knew in the end? More important was that it felt right to him now at this moment and despite his overall confused state, it actually did.

After activating the phone, he first dragged the Memo app to the center of the screen and then opened it. Nimbly, his thumbs slid across the screen as he began to write. He had to control himself to remain matter-of-fact, like he normally was, so his presumably last message to Heahmund wouldn’t end up in a dime novel, which middle-aged women bought in newsstands to bring the lost romance back into their lives.

It was difficult, though. He still wanted to tell him so much, preferably explain everything to him in the smallest detail, so that Heahmund would understand him and how it had ended like this. It was his pitiful attempt to avoid the possibility of Heahmund hating him as soon as regained consciousness. 

I love you - he had never said it out loud before, nor did he write it at the end of his message now, but Ivar allowed himself to say these words clearly in his thoughts for once, giving them room to come into existence.

Carefully, he placed the phone into Heahmund's hand after he had finished his message, grabbed his crutch, which he currently needed because all the stress was also making itself felt physically, and stood up ponderously. He had already lost too much time, and yet he paused for another moment, looking down at Heahmund, waiting for something he himself didn't even know what it was.

Of course, nothing happened, and so Ivar turned and headed for the door. Tears welled up in his eyes again, clouding his vision. He didn't want to leave, wanted to hold on to his illness a little longer, but with every step he took he got infected with another one.

No longer visible to him, Heahmund's eyelids began to twitch, and as Ivar pushed open the door and stepped through, not looking back again, they lifted, clearing the way for a pair of bright eyes.

--------------------------------------

Author's Note: It could be the first chapter of several more - the idea itself is bigger than this, but it can also be read as a sad - somehow strange - Oneshot in case I get sidetracked again.

Suddenly, I also feel the need to explore their early stages a bit more. This chapter was supposed to be a little bit of a setting, since the actual story starts after that, but I feel a little bit like I should have started right from the beginning, then this one wouldn't be so packed with info without much actual plot. Right? Well, it's a learning process, right²?

#heavar #heahmund x ivar #ivar x heahmund #vikings #vikings modern au #vikings fanfic #ivar fanfic #vikings fanfiction #vikings edit #heavar edit #fic: final masquerade #fanfiction #fanfic writing #my writing #my stuff #ivar the boneless #vikings ivar #bishop heahmund

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 17

I'm back! I'm so sorry its taken me months to update. Life took a turn for the busy. During this time I've had people ask and I promise I have no intentions of abandoning this fic, even if it takes me months to update. I'm enjoying this story too much, and I hope you are too.

Also this chapter was a tough one to write. So I suggest you buckle up your seatbelts because the angst train is here since its Ivar's POV! Hopefully the length also makes up for the wait!

min skatt– my treasure

Words: 9400

Warnings: language, implied drug use, mild sexual content, brief mentions of violence, Ivar doesn't handle feelings well

Series Masterlist

Ivar fucked up. 

He knew it. His family knew it. Hell, it might as well be broadcasted on global news at this point. 

He had fucked up. 

Severely. 

That thick, tar-like feeling of betrayal had coated his nerve endings, dulled his mind and made his black heart stone-cold. The sensation of betrayal was not unusual, but he hated it. With every cell of his body, he loathed it. Anger was an escape, a way to get out of the suffocating void that betrayal tried to drown him in. So he latched onto the familiar burn of anger, a welcomed friend by this point in his life. 

But when the fire burned out, when he could see past the comforting haze of red…it was to the sight of fear in Kari's blue-green eyes and tears running down her cheeks. 

Immediately, he knew he fucked up in the worst way possible. And when she ran from him, he could not blame her. Even if every step she took away from him was a knife repeatedly to the gut. But her expressive eyes, they told him how badly he had messed up. She had dealt with plenty of his shit but this…this was the line crossed. He could not even get mad at her for it, for self-loathing had wrapped its tentacles around him and squeezed. 

He had lost her. His gift from the gods. His kitten. 

His Kari. 

He vaguely remembered screaming and demanding his brothers and Floki release him. Could barely recall landing a solid punch to Sigurd that busted his knuckles and broke his brother's nose. Somehow he ended up on the floor whimpering her name with cold tears slipping from his eyes as Floki kept his arms wrapped around him, either to keep him restrained or to comfort, Ivar was unsure. But it did not matter. 

In a single moment, he knew he had lost her. 

And it was his own fucking fault. 

When Ragnar returned later, Ivar could barely get words to come out, his tongue felt heavy and his stomach full of stones. His father had taken one look at him and sighed. 

"Leave her alone. I told her you'd stay away. Don't make me fucking put security on you to keep away from her. She's got enough shit to deal with now."

Ivar nodded silently. Promising himself he would. 

But the next day he broke that promise. 

It was an all-consuming need to see her, to check on her, to make sure she did not despise him as much as he did himself. He tried to sneak away, however idiotic that was. A crippled bastard trying to sneak out of the house, where every footfall was as loud as a gong. Standing at the door, phone in hand to call a driver, Floki had found him. He took one look at the child of his heart and told him to get into his car. That he would drive him, but only this once. 

Ivar was unsure what he had expected when choosing to visit Kari. Hell, he was not even sure she would be home. All he knew was at some point during the night, while he laid awake on his bed, sleep evading him like a mocking ghost, he knew he had to see her. Fuck what Ragnar said. 

When she walked away, she had taken part of his heart with her. Whoever cliché that sounded, and he would never admit it aloud. Yet that was how it felt. And now he needed to know if he would ever get that blackened, bleeding organ back from her delicate, gentle hands. 

In his mind, the best case scenario of his unexpected arrival would involve her running into his arms, him reassuring her he never meant to hurt her, immediately followed by hot make-up sex that lasted for hours. 

The worst case scenario? He would walk in the door and she would shoot him. No…he would walk in the door and she would coldly tell him she never wanted to see him again, that whatever they had was over and how much she hated him. He would gladly take being shot instead of hearing her say anything like that. 

What he walked in on- seeing her curled up on the couch, with red-rimmed eyes and tear stains on her cheeks- that felt like someone took a whip at what remained of his heart and attempted to shred it. 

When he happened to notice the faintest discoloration along her jawline…the lashings began in earnest. 

Then her words, her hesitation. It all tore at him. 

"I need time, Ivar."

Another lashing of the whip. 

But he absorbed the pain, welcomed it because he deserved every stroke. What he did was unforgivable, but somehow he hoped she would. 

Gods, he hoped she could forgive him. 

He did not linger, feeling his concrete reinforced composure cracking under the weight of his self-loathing and turmoil. 

Thankfully, Floki never said a word when Ivar reentered the car. Nor did he question when Ivar put in a food order to be delivered to Kari. 

Afterwards, the entire drive was silent. 

Back at the house, he could feel Floki's shrewd gaze on him but he ignored it. He only spared his brothers a glance before retreating to his room. To the isolation and darkness there. To where he could cry without anyone seeing. 

At some point that despair morphed into anger and before he realized it, he found himself in the home gym. He had no recollection of walking out of his room and to the gym. But in the moment, it did not matter. All he cared about was ruthlessly pounding on the punching bag. 

All of his self-loathing. All of his anger directed at himself, at his family, at the whole fucking world. All of his pain and despair. All for it he poured into his punches. Each slam of his fist on the fabric drained a little more from the reservoir overflowing inside of him. 

When his bones broke under the onslaught, he never relented. 

As blood splattered the bag, the floor and himself, he persevered. 

His whole vision had tunneled into needing to feel the pain, into pouring out his frustration. He breathed in the pain and let it wash over him. 

He was not one for going to church, none of the Lothbroks were. But this. Each punch. Each sharp stab of pain. Each coating of blood flying from his own body. It all felt like a penance. It was no Hail Mary or Our Father. But this was even more raw, more real for Ivar. 

For he knew blood. He knew pain. 

What better way to atone for his sins than to punish himself with both?

He was unsure how long he slaved away at his personal penance until they found him. 

Ubbe and Hvitserk pinned him to the floor. His blood stained their hands. His heart and lungs were in overdrive yet his mind was blissfully silent. He could vaguely hear Floki say something about a broken hand and they needed to take him to the hospital. 

The rest of the night was spent with nurses and doctors, x-rays and a black cast on his hand and forearm. The sterile smell of the hospital burned his nose. The grating voices of the hospital staff asking questions and reading his extensive records irritated him. 

But he kept silent. 

All he could hope for, all he could pray for, was his atonement could somehow make up for his sins. That his blood shed could replace the pain he caused. 

That his offering would be enough.

*****

The following day he spent in solitude. No matter how many times someone knocked on his door, he never answered. The one time Hvitserk tried to stick his head in, Ivar threw a drinking glass at him. Immediately after, Ivar cursed himself for the now shattered glass on the carpet. He knew he was acting pitiful yet he could not seem to rise above the deep well of depression and its thick cords wrapped around his body, dragging him further into its dark depths. 

The only person he willingly chose to answer was his mother, but that was more out of self-preservation when she continuously called him for three minutes straight without stopping. The conversation had been brief and then he returned to watching TV while laying on his bed, trying his hardest to ignore the cast on his right hand and forearm and how much it fucking sucked to deal with. 

At some point during the day, he had tossed his phone across the room, uncaring whether it broke or not. The temptation, the need, to text Kari, to call her, to profusely apologize and beg for her forgiveness was too much. She said she needed time. So he was going to damn well give it to her. 

Fuck, if he could just forget it all for a while. Instead of drowning in thoughts of her. Of his self-loathing. Of how he always fucked up the best things in his life. 

The next day an idea came to mind, a way to find a temporary reprieve from the swirling vultures of his thoughts. 

He just needed his brother's help.

*****

Ivar and Hvitserk settled back onto the couches, the short table in front of them already with beers waiting for their pleasure. The loud thumping from the bass of the club's speakers could be felt in Ivar's chest. The shrill cries of the inebriation mixed with excitement filled the air as much as the music. 

He pointedly ignored the fact, this was the very place he first met Kari and became consumed by her. 

Ivar's fierce blue eyes scanned the crowd from his advantageous position about the main floor. For a Sunday night, the dance floor was packed and the line along the bar was full. He wondered if there was a special event or celebration causing it to be busier than normal. Not that he truly cared. The more people the better for his plan. 

"So why are we here, Ivar?" 

He looked over at his flaxen-haired brother. "I needed to get out."

"Yeah? Well I'm personally shocked this is the place you'd choose." Hvitserk waved to someone walking by that called his name but swiftly returned his attention to his younger brother. "So why are we here?"

"I told you–"

"And I'm calling bullshit, Ivar."

Ivar scoffed, taking a long draw of the beer in front of him. Only after initially reaching for the beer with his right hand and belatedly remembering it was in a cast before grabbing it with his left. It was a miracle he had not needed surgery for all the broken bones in his hand and wrist. The dumbass that he was, he had not even thought to wrap his hands before pummeling the punching bag. But what was another surgery to him? What was more broken bones to his crippled body? Physical pain was his closest companion. But this constant ache in his heart, this roiling torment, it was more than he could bear. 

Hvitserk sighed. "I know you're hurting– don't give me that look, asshole– it's obvious to everyone with eyes. Look, if you wanted to just get drunk, we could have done that at home. So why are we here? Do you need a distraction? Someone to suck your cock? Is that why we're here?"

Ivar leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, mirroring his brother's pose. "I need something to get me out of my fucked up mind for a while."

"Okay…I'll go order a bottle of–"

"No," Ivar interrupted, "I need something else. I need the good stuff, Hvits."

Hvitserk blinked for a moment before immediately shaking his head and leaning back, as if distancing himself emphasized his refusal. "Ivar, no."

Ivar waited a second before continuing. "You know who has the best quality, who doesn't fuck around."

"Ivar….I don't do that anymore–I won't…not this."

The youngest Lothbrok understood his brother's hesitation, his wariness. It was a closely concealed secret of their family about Hvitserk's prior drug addiction and how it had almost killed it. He had been clean for close to two years now, but Ivar knew he still had connections even if he did not partake in the sampling anymore. 

Ivar continued to stare at his older brother, just waiting. He knew he was an absolute, selfish bastard for asking this favor. Hvitserk had tried to protect his youngest brother as much as possible while he struggled with his addiction, and this was the one dark spot in Hvitserk's life that he tried to forget about or ignore. But right now, Ivar would do whatever necessary to get a break from his emotional pain. Including lying to his brother. 

Hvitserk ran a hand down his face. "Just this once." 

"Just this once." Ivar agreed.  

He stood up, giving Ivar one more long look as if hoping Ivar would change his mind. When Ivar only stared back, Hvitserk shook his head, and wandered off with a "stay here" over his shoulder. 

The dark-haired Lothbrok leaned back on the couch, arms across the back and surveyed the crowd once again. Years ago he had experimented with different substances, usually alongside Hvitserk, but while his brother enjoyed the sensations, Ivar did not. His mind was his greatest weapon, his most prolific asset. He disliked having his senses affected and his mind sluggish or useless. There had also been one too many accidents that left him in the hospital due to broken bones or lacerations that made him rethink the continued use. He did not mind getting a buzz from drinking, it was almost an obligation during family events, but he still felt in control then.

Tonight though, he wanted out of his head. Even for a little while. 

Feeling eyes on him, his predatory gaze shifted towards the half stairs leading up to the restricted seating area. His blue eyes locked with a pair of bright green ones, belonging to a blonde with a black and gold dress that hugged her fit form like it had been painted on. He continued to watch her, curious to see what she would do next. Instead of looking away, she met his gaze head-on, running a finger along the low neckline of her dress. 

A smirk grew on Ivar's face as he crooked a finger at her, beckoning her over. 

It did not take long until his cock was down her throat. 

He allowed the sweet bliss to fill him, to cloud his mind and focus on the pleasure her skilled tongue gave him. But even then, it was still Kari's name on the tip of his tongue when he came. 

*****

Darkness swaddled Ivar in its cocoon of warmth, keeping him safe and at peace. Here, nothing mattered. In the darkness, he was nothing and everything. A serenity floated through and around him, even when his dreams were caked in blood and screams. Nothing could touch or harm him….

….until the abrupt sensation of cold water splashed across his face, delivering him back to the realm of the living. 

"Fuckkkk….what the fuck?" Ivar groaned after jerking awake and wiping the water off this face. Now his pillow was wet. Whoever disturbed him was going to fucking die. Well, once the pounding in his head, echoing his heartbeat, stopped and pain no longer flared behind his eyelids. Fuck, the nausea churning in his gut threatened to escape its weak confines. His stomach itself was attempting to claw its way out of his body. Why did everything fucking hurt? What kind of hangover from hell was this? 

"Mmm….what's going on, baby?" A sleep-laced, feminine voice said from beside him. 

Her voice grated against his ears, only intensifying the psychotic marching band that had taken up residence in his brain. "Shut the fuck up." He growled as he screwed his eyes shut. 

A signature giggle came from the end of the bed, quickly followed by, "does your head hurt? That's a shame."

Fuckkkkkkkk……

Silently, Ivar begged all the gods he knew of to kill him now. He could not deal with that deranged madman today. His whole body was revolting against him at the moment. Even his thoughts staggered and rolled like a drunken sailor onboard a ship. Why was everyone talking so loudly? Was it even possible for sound to hurt this much?

Of course, because the universe hated him and despised him since birth, the feminine voice began shrieking and flailing about on the bed. The hammers striking against his brain with each heartbeat magnified their strength, as if wielded by gods themselves. He groaned loudly, digging the heels of his hands into his forehead, wishing death on everyone who dared to make a single sound.  

Finally, when he could not take her wordless panicking anymore, he rolled over (his stomach reminding him of the physical revolt it was currently throwing) and slapped his hand harshly over the woman's mouth. 

"Shut up!" 

After a moment, he could feel her give a slight nod and only then did he release her. With that, he finally opened his eyes. The morning light blazed through the window, the curtains fully drawn back allowing maximum light into the room. His eyes slammed shut once more, refusing to suffer another level of torture.  

"Fucking sadists." He mumbled, pressing his face back into his damp pillow. He must have spoken loud enough because that signature giggle followed his statement, sending another wave of pain shooting through his brain.

Fingers abruptly started running through his hair and down his bare back. An attempt at soothing him but instead it did the opposite. His body stiffened and his fists clenched even as he laid face down on the bed. 

"Don't touch me." He hissed through clenched teeth. 

The fingers stilled. 

Carefully he tilted his head and peeked over at the woman beside him. What he saw made him immediately regret it and curse his subconscious desires. She had brown hair that most likely had been straightened last night but was now sleep-tousled, with hints of curls returning. The mascara and eye shadow around her blue eyes was smudged. Full lips sat under a small, straight nose. 

Wordlessly, Ivar turned away from her and felt his heart crack at the sight. He knew what it was and hated what his drunk self had done. With just that single glance, he knew his drunk self had chosen her for the faint similarities she had with Kari. Apparently his subconscious would only bring someone like her into his bed now. Gods, what was fucking wrong with him? 

"Get out."

"What?" She questioned softly, her hand still on his shoulder.

He turned his head to glare at her. "Fucking leave."

"But baby…you said last night that you needed me. You made me promise to stay." 

And there was the knife twisting in his gut, but he ignored the pain. He needed her and her irritating touch gone. He needed to wallow in his pain alone and without someone to remind him of his mistakes. Why the fuck would his drunk self pick her? What kind of masochist was he? 

He closed his eyes, no longer willing to look at her. Someone that would never fulfill the throbbing ache in his chest. "Leave or I'll gut you." 

He could sense the warring within her, the confusion and hesitation, and he wondered what else he had blathered at her about last night. What lies and promises had he spewed at her, even if it was truly another person those words were meant for. 

"I suggest you go. I'm not in the mood to clean up blood today." Another bodiless voice said from somewhere in the room. 

Ivar turned his head towards the voice but kept his eyes closed. "Hvits?"

"Morning, brother."

"Ugh. Fuck you."

His brother's answering chuckle made Ivar want to stab someone. Repeatedly. 

The bed began to shift as the Kari look-alike started to get out, but when she tugged on the blanket to cover her nakedness, Ivar yanked the blanket back. He heard the quiet, surprised gasp but there was no remorse in him. She could parade naked down to the lobby for all he gave a shit. Shuffling and footsteps followed a clicking of what he assumed was the bathroom door. 

"Here, you ungrateful bastard. Move that ass."

Ivar rolled over and carefully sat up. The room spun like a carnival ride and he held his head for a long moment, swearing and cursing amidst the pain. Once he was able to overcome the rising nausea, he accepted the water and pills, knowing he needed them since he doubted the two intruders would leave him alone anytime soon. Damn them. 

As he sipped on the water, the bathroom door opened. The woman came out, wearing a maroon dress that looked like someone had taken artistic license to while wielding a knife. She met his eyes, holding one black heel. But whatever she was hoping for, Ivar refused to give her. He slid his gaze away from her, focusing straight ahead and the ugly artwork in the hotel room he found himself in. What hotel was this? It did not look familiar. He heard her scoff and her footsteps move towards the door. 

"Hvitserk, help her out." The asshole said, who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed. 

"Sure."

After the door closed, a pregnant silence fell on the two left in the hotel room. Ivar continued to sip on the water, staring straight ahead. The throbbing in his head felt relentless and his body ached as if he had gone a few rounds in the boxing ring. He thought about asking for someone to close the curtains, but his companion began speaking and it overshadowed his internal pain. 

"Did I ever tell you about the time I lost my daughter in the woods?" Floki quietly asked. 

Ivar's ears perked up, even as he kept staring forward. Floki hardly talked about his only child. Ivar had vague memories of her, influenced by his own young age since they were born a year apart. But he could never forget how at four years old she had died from leukemia. One of his earliest solid memories was watching Floki silently weeping as he cradled a hysterical Helga to his chest, his eyes never straying from the pyre he had built for his daughter's body. 

Without waiting for Ivar's answer, he continued. "Hmmm….it was one of the few times she wasn't in the hospital. She was like her mother, always wanting fresh flowers, listening to the birds' sing, smiling at the sun. It was…" He sighed, and Ivar could hear the pain and regret in the man's voice. 

"I needed a new tree for a boat and I promised she could come with me. She was so small for her age, so fragile. I got distracted…found the perfect tree and was measuring it. But that was long enough for her to wander off. The panic I felt, Ivar, I can't tell you the complete goddamn terror I experienced as I tried to find my little girl. When she didn't reply as I screamed her name…I thought she'd–" This time he shook his head. "I finally found her, watching birds in the trees above. I scolded her severely, made her cry, but then I hugged her like my life depended on it. I'll never forget the terror I felt that day. Even though it's been over twenty years and she's been gone just as long. I'll never forget." The last sentence came out in a whisper, an audible ode to the harrowing event. 

The next several seconds passed in silence before Ivar broke it. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Do you know what day it is, Ivar?"

"What? Why does that fucking matter?"

Floki reached out his long arm and swatted the side of Ivar's head. "Because you selfish, crippled bastard, you've been missing for thirty hours."

"The fuck–'"

"Ivar, listen," Floki interrupted before Ivar could question the validity of the statement. "The gods may have taken my daughter but they gifted me you as a son. And the fear I felt when Hvitserk told me he couldn't find you and you weren't answering your phone…I should beat your ass. I'm too old to deal with this shit anymore."

Ivar sat mutely, his mind reeling with everything Floki had said. How could he be missing for that long? That made no sense. He remembered going to the club with Hvitserk and his brother bringing him the chosen poison and deliverance he had practically begged for. Then there was a girl with blue eyes….or were they green? He could vaguely recall, like looking through a cloudy window, talking with someone about how they had more of the good stuff at their apartment. He remembered huge tits in his face and a woman moaning his name above him. 

He glanced down at his right hand, seeing the cast on it still. There were new drawings and several phone numbers on it now from a bright silver marker. Why could he not remember any of that? When did he arrive at the hotel? What kind of shit had he been on? 

Logically, he knew Floki had every right to scold him. It was a miracle it was not Ragnar himself chastising him. All the Lothbroks knew that with their rise in power and business accomplishments, it also painted a target on their backs for any that would seek to undermine or destroy them. For one of them to go missing…that would become paramount. Everything else would screech to a staggering halt until the missing person was returned. And for it to be him…with the vast wealth of information and security locked away in his mind. It could easily eradicate the company and their family if that knowledge was given to the wrong person. 

As if sensing where Ivar's thoughts led, Floki softly spoke. "Your father doesn't know. He thinks you've been holed up at home. Hvitserk came to me."

A whoosh of air expelled from his lungs, draining the staggering concern and stress that had momentarily crashed over him. "Thanks." He murmured. 

"I know you're hurting. You can't deny what my old eyes see. So I've one question for you…what in the hel are you doing, boy?"

"What are you–"

Floki swatted his head again. "Have you numbed the pain? Do you feel better now?"

"Fuck off. You don't know–"

"And that's where you're wrong again, foolish child. I do know." He leaned forward, forcing Ivar's gaze to meet his, the bed shifting under the movement. "What happened with Kari? I drove you there, if you can even remember. I didn't push you then, but I think I damn well deserve an answer. Saved your dumbass from punching through the bag and now this….what happened?"

Ivar flinched but knew the father of his heart was correct. Especially with it just being the two of them, he knew he could speak freely. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words stuck there. What agony he had tried to temporarily escape flooded him. Wave after wave slammed into his chest, especially with the reminder that even drunk and high, he still craved her. Waking up to find someone not her beside him. The pounding in his head was subsiding but now his heart took the brunt of the pain. 

Ripping his gaze away from Floki's, he stared down at the empty cup in his hand. His thoughts and memories swirled and clashed, like an intricate swordplay. But those edges were live and sharp, cutting and slashing at him with every pass. Her face, tears trickling down her cheeks. The fear and pain in her eyes. The mark he left on her. The self-loathing that threatened to shatter his control. The desperate need to forget and escape. Pain and blood. Gods, he has fucked up. 

Why did he always fuck everything up? 

"She said she needed time." He whispered. "She said….fuck– I can't remember everything, but she didn't want to see me. She said….she knows I'm sorry but she still needed time." His eyes blurred, tears welling in them, as he finally looked back up at his companion. Thick emotion choked his throat, making it hard to speak. "What if she…Floki, I can't lose her. I can't–"

Floki gathered Ivar into his arms and just held him as he cried. The youngest Lothbrok could not remember the last time someone held him as he cried like this, his body quivering with the sobs ripped from his very soul. Most likely his mother or Floki, but that would have been years ago. For he had learned to wrap himself in his anger, allowing his fury to be the suit of armor needed to protect him from the world and all the ways it attempted to rend him apart. 

But then she walked into his life, with her soft curves, kind heart and ability to see past all his barriers, to see past the thorns and thistles wrapped around his blackened heart, to hear the faint beating there, and to cherish its sound. For her to choose him, to want him for simply being Ivar. 

He was undone by her. And yet, he had never felt more powerful and happy than when he was with her. 

Eventually his tears subsided, draining him completely. He leaned back against the headrest of the bed as Floki went to refill his water cup. His body still ached, his stomach unsteady and his head hurt from the hangover and from the crying. It felt like someone had stuck a hose in him and sucked all the vitality out of him, leaving him a dry husk of who he should be, or rung out like a rag and tossed onto the floor to be trampled. 

Floki handed over the new cup of water, settling back onto the edge of the bed. Wordlessly, Ivar drank it slowly, even as he suppressed the urge to just chug it. He was not that stupid. It would most likely come back up. And he despised the taste of vomit. 

Of course, the old man delved into a new level of cruelty. Instead of sitting silently and allowing Ivar time to recover, he resumed speaking. 

The asshole. 

"How do you think Kari would feel if she found you like this? Hmmm?" He asked thoughtfully, as if they were speculating about the weather. "Think she'd take your ass back seeing you hungover like this? Or hearing about all the women you apparently fucked? Hmmm? Why should she want you after this?" 

Shame rolled in his gut, rising with the nausea he could taste in the back of his throat. "She doesn't want me anymore."

Floki swatted his head again. "Damn foolish boy, can't see past his own nose."

"Stop fucking hitting me." Ivar growled. 

"Oh, I'll hit you enough times until you start using that brain of yours." Floki leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, a calculating look in his eyes as he observed the dark-haired Lothbrok. "You want her back?"

Ivar furrowed his brows. "What are you talking about?"

"You still want her, yes?"

"What kind of dumb, fucking question is that? She's the reason I–"

"Yes or no, Ivar."

"Yes!" Ivar threw the cup, hearing it hit the nearby wall but kept his gaze locked on Floki's, a tension swirling around them like a rising tide. "Fuck! Yes, I need her! Gods, I miss her so much it hurts!"

"Good." Floki nodded. "You want her back. Now prove it."

"But she said…"

"Yes, yes, she needs time. That doesn't give you the excuse to fuck off and be a disaster. She could still choose you…." Floki's calculating gaze intensified, immediately making Ivar uneasy, "....but not if you're like this. I'll keep her away from you myself if you keep this shit up."

"You wouldn't."

Floki giggled. "Think I won't? I might not know her well, but I do know she deserves better than this." He accused, gesturing to Ivar. 

And he was right. 

Fuck. 

Ivar had always known Kari deserved better than someone like him. She was too pure. Too good. She was the bright, summer sunshine and he was the devastating, dark storm waiting on the horizon. And now…gods, would she even look at him if she knew the self-destruction he had spiraled into because he could not handle her loss? The potential of her rejection. Would she pity him? Would she become even more fearful of him? Would she hate him? 

Would she feel betrayed if she knew he had picked someone that looked like her to blindly fuck in a drunken attempt to alleviate his misery? Shit…she would probably never speak to his sorry ass again. And why should she? He had raged at her when hearing she had gone out on a date and here he had been fucking any woman he could. 

Why would she want him now? What goddamn right did he had to demand of her loyalty if he could not give his own? 

And yet he still wanted her. Still needed her. Would do whatever it took to win her back. To prove how much she meant to him. Even after all the shit he had done. It was still her he thought of constantly, that he wanted by his side, that he wanted to talk to and listen to her laugh, that he wanted to kiss and hold and make love to. Even if fucking was the only thing he knew. He wanted to learn how to make love with her. Floki said to prove it. But how? And the answer to that eluded Ivar. 

Slowly, Ivar shifted his gaze back to meet the piercing eyes watching him. He sighed quietly before speaking. "What do I do?" 

Floki studied him for a long moment before smiling. "You're coming home with me to Norway. Helga has been asking when you're coming to stay and I want you to see my new boat."

Ivar thought about it then shrugged. "Fine." It was probably the best place for him at the moment anyway. 

"Yeah, you ungrateful bastard. I'd drag your ass there anyway. My Helga always gets what she wants."

"You're whipped, Floki."

"Yeah, so are you."

Ivar groaned at the shit-eating grin on Floki's face but could not deny it. Not this time. With all his confessions and actions, it would be futile to try and deny it. 

Pushing himself off the bed, Floki started to search around the hotel room. "Where's your clothes, boy?"

"Stop calling me that."

"When you stop acting like a spoiled brat, I will."

"Fuck off."

"No, we've got a plane to catch and I highly doubt you can walk a straight line."

"Fuck me." Ivar groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in resignation while Floki's giggles filled the room. 

It took some time for Floki to locate all of Ivar's things. Thankfully, Ivar still had his pants on. Not that it surprised him. Even drunk and high, apparently his subconscious still was overly aware of the state of his mangled legs and did not want others to see them. Amidst copious amounts of swearing, Floki plying him with an excessive amount of water, and only one trip to the bathroom to puke up half of the contents of his stomach, the two of them finally made it out of the hotel. 

The morning sunlight burned Ivar's eyes as he stepped outside, refueling the hammering in his head. Squinting, he could see Hvitserk standing just off to the side of the door, smoking a cigarette. Without a word, he moved to join his brother. 

"You look like shit." Hvitserk greeted him. "Smell like sex and vodka."

Ivar took the offered cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling it curl in his lungs. "It's an improvement over what you always look like."

His brother snorted, taking the cigarette back. "Here." He handed over a pair of sunglasses. 

With a nod of thanks, Ivar slipped them on gratefully. 

"Don't ever pull this shit again. I was worried." Hvitserk stated as he handed the cigarette back over. 

"I know. I think Floki will kill me if I do."

"Slowly and painfully!" The asshole yelled out from where he stood a few paces away on the phone. 

Hvitserk chuckled while Ivar rolled his eyes.

"You good?"

Ivar thought about his answer, about all the revelation he had received up in the hotel room and what all Floki had said to him. He answered softly, "I will be." 

Hvitserk hummed. "Might want to get tested soon. The number of girls who sucked your cock at the club….if I wasn't so pissed at you, I'd say you deserve an award. Then you fucked off when I walked away and I couldn't fucking find you."

Ivar smirked, as he finished off their now shared cigarette, dropping the butt to the ground and watching Hvitserk step on it. 

The three of them loaded up in Hvitserk's car and headed towards the brothers' house. Head against the window, eyes closed during the drive, Ivar listened to Floki's words replay over and over in his mind. How could he 'prove it'? What did that even mean? 

He decided to analyze that more later when he was not hungover and exhausted. 

Once they finally made it back to the house, Ivar trudged to his room, ignoring the sounds of his family. What in the hell were they doing here in the late morning? Making a quick side trip to vomit once more then pop some strong pain pills he kept in his bathroom, he grabbed a few essentials from his room to bring with him to Floki's. 

Over the years, one of the spare bedrooms in Floki's house had become Ivar's since he spent so much time with them, especially as a child. It was the only place Aslaug would allow her youngest to go without her ever-watchful eyes on him. With the frequency and duration of time spent there, it had become easier to leave a decent amount of clothing and other personal belongings to await his return. 

With a backpack slung over his back, he grabbed his cane and his computer bag. That would be sufficient for now. If he needed something later, it would not be hard to have his father or brothers deliver it to him. 

Voices coming from the kitchen drew his attention and he headed that way after exiting his bedroom. He could hear Ubbe arguing with someone and mild shock spilled over him to hear Gyda. What the fuck was she doing here? And who the hell pissed her off so badly? However much she tried not to associate with the Lothbrok business and keep herself clear of all that entailed, she was certainly a Lothbrok through and through. Her temper alone was evidence of that. 

Stepping into the kitchen, he could see Gyda squaring off to Ubbe, hands on her hips and tension coating every inch of her body. Ubbe stood meeting her gaze head-on, arms over his chest. Hvitserk and Floki stood off to the side, seemingly watching the verbal sparring take place with no intention to intervene. Of course, Hvitserk had food in his mouth, one of his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. 

Hearing his footsteps and cane tapping as he entered the room, all eyes focused on him. Before he could question what was going on, the tall, blonde female practically flew across the room to shove him. It was only through sheer instinct and luck that he managed to only stumble backward and not lose his balance, having to drop his computer bag to reach out for a nearby wall to steady himself. 

"What the fu–"

"If you lay a finger on Kari again, I swear I will castrate you…" Gyda spat through gritted teeth with a vengeful fire blazing in her eyes. "...and then I'll cut off all your fingers, one by one. I don't give a single fuck that you're family. You hurt her again, I WILL come for you. Do you understand?" 

"Yes." Ivar slowly enunciated, fury boiling in his chest at her threats. But for once, he kept his anger in check.

"Good." She took a step back, hands returning to her hips. It was now she eyed him critically, as if seeing him for the first time. "Holy hell, you do look like shit. I'm still pissed enough I'll beat your sorry ass with your own cane though."

"Gyda, leave him alone, alright?" Ubbe said, coming around the large kitchen island. "You delivered your message, that's enough now."

Any other time, Ivar might have sneered at Ubbe attempting to be the peacemaker in the family, like always. But right now, he was too exhausted, too heartsore, too grateful for his older brother stepping in to say anything. It was taking all the miniscule strength he barely possessed to not lash out at Gyda, even if a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Gyda was only standing up for her friend. He met Ubbe's eyes for a moment, hoping he could see the thanks in them before dropping his eyes to his cane in hand. 

Floki came over to his side, picking up the dropped computer bag. "Ready?"

He just silently nodded. The frustration and anger coiled and burned in his chest but he bit his tongue for once. Gyda had every right to be pissed at him. Part of him wondered who told her about what happened between him and Kari. 

Without a word, Ivar started towards the front door, Floki by his side. The two of them were almost to the door when Hvitserk called out his name, drawing closer. 

"Don't stab me, but I'm going to hug you." Hvitserk quickly informed him before doing exactly that. And to both of their astonishment, Ivar readily reciprocated the hug. Neither of them acknowledged the tight grip Ivar had on Hvitserk's shirt, as if in that moment, his brother's touch was the only thing keeping him from crumbling. 

"I'll keep an eye on her. I promise." Hvitserk whispered, pulling back enough to press his forehead against his youngest brother's. 

"Thanks." Ivar murmured, although it came out more as a strangled croak. 

Emotions rising and warring inside him, alongside the unrelenting hangover, he trudged towards the car waiting outside for them. Seeing which driver it was waiting for them, Ivar was thankful it was one that preferred silence instead of background music. Minutes later, they were on the road, heading to the airport and the private Lothbrok plane waiting for them there. 

With eyes closed once again, he could not tear his thoughts away from Kari. Not after Hvitserk's comment. 

He wondered what she was doing. Was she working today? Had her cramps gotten better? What was she thinking about? Did she miss him yet? It was now he realized how much he looked forward to their conversations, even if it was just over texting. She always made him smile somehow. His own personal sunshine amidst the dark clouds and storm that was his life. His kitten. Did he brighten her day as much as she did his? 

An idea popped into his mind and without overthinking it for once, he acted on it. 

Less than five minutes later, a bouquet of tulips was on its way to her with his message. 

He turned the screen off his phone and tucked it back into his pocket. Gods, he prayed she liked the flowers. She had said they were her favorite. She would be less likely to toss them in the garbage then, right? Fuck. He hoped she liked the gesture, that it brightened her day. 

Floki's advice still swirled in his mind, like a maelstrom. Kari had told him to stay away, that she needed time. He could– no, he would honor that. She needed space from him. And she deserved it. But that did not mean he was going to let her go. Fuck that shit. He needed her. He silently swore to himself to do everything possible to show her how sorry he was for his actions and how much he missed her. 

To prove how much she meant to him. 

*****

Ivar stared out at the gorgeous scenery spread out before him like a painting masterpiece. The steep walls of the Norwegian fjord rose above the glittering blue river. The trees appeared ablaze with what was left of autumn's colors, transforming summer's green to something warmer. A deception to the present chill in the air, a taste of the coming winter. He could practically feel the impending cold in his bones. 

His thoughts though were miles away from the picturesque scenery before him. He tapped his phone absent-mindedly against his leg with his left hand, since his right was still in its cast. Which was thankfully back to its original black and without random phone numbers in it. It had only taken a call to the local hospital to have them willing to redo his cast without any questions. One of the many times Ivar appreciated how easily he could use his name to bypass regulations and rules. 

"Did you decide yet?"

"Yeah." A small smile turned up the corners of his lips. "I ordered the Armani sweater and Dior jacket."

Helga settled onto the wooden Adirondack chair next to Ivar's, her blonde hair catching in the faint breeze. "I bet she'll love them."

"Hopefully."

"Of course she will." She leaned over, whispering conspiracingly. "Think Floki will buy those for me?"

He chuckled. "If he doesn't, I will."

Laughing, she reached over and squeezed his hand. "I've missed having you here. Even if most of the time, you've been holed up in your room on your laptop."

He rolled his eyes at her pointed look. "I've been working."

"I know. Floki told me. I worry about you. You haven't been sleeping."

His brows pinched together as he tried to figure out how she knew that. Helga typically turned in early and rose with the dawn, quite opposite of Ivar who was a night owl. Aware of that, he made sure to be as quiet as possible when moving around the house, not wishing to disturb her or Floki when he finally retired for the night. At that point, he usually returned to his room but would remain awake for hours more, face illuminated by his computer or phone as he worked feverishly. If he let his mind wander freely too much, it would descend into solemn depths, he would rather avoid. 

"Floki told me. He hears you moving around–"

"That asshole never sleeps either." Ivar muttered. 

"--and those bags under your eyes are looking like you got into Floki's 'war paint'." 

He smirked as the memory came to the forefront of his mind. "If I hide it again, what do you think he'll do?"

"Knowing what happened last time you stole it and drew penises all over the side of his shed….gods, what were you? Fifteen?" She shook her head, unable to fully restrain the amused, fond smile on her face, highlighting the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. 

He grinned mischievously. "I was thirteen, but it was all Hvitserk's idea though."

"Uh huh. I highly doubt that."

The door opening had both of them turning their heads to see Floki stepping out onto the back deck. He stepped out in his usual brown pants and dark, long-sleeve shirt, the tattoos on the sides of his head clearly visible. He must have finished shaving his head before coming out. Ivar silently wondered if Floki and Helga even noticed anymore that their attire always seemed to match in some way. Today, Floki's shirt was a dark, forest green, the color matching Helga's dress, even as it was covered in a floral design. Maybe they were so in tune with one another by this point in their decades long marriage, it was instinctual or unconscious. 

A stray thought drifted through Ivar's mind, questioning if Kari and himself would ever be like that….he quickly brushed it away. 

"He lives!' Floki gestured towards Ivar as he came closer. "I thought you'd finally died from glaring at your laptop. Save us all from your complaining and moaning. I was preparing to drag your crippled, scrawny ass down and throw you in a funeral boat."

"Like an old, fat fucker like you could carry me."

"Ivar, language!" Helga chastised. 

"You see the abuse I have to deal with, min skatt?" Floki plopped on the arm of Helga's chair, wrapping his arm around her and faux pouting. "And I even shared my Brennivín with him."

She poked his side, making him giggle. "You just wanted an excuse to open the new bottle."

He hummed, noncommittally, before leaning over and placing a gentle kiss to his wife's lips. 

Ivar dropped his gaze to his lap. Not because he was uncomfortable with their displays of affection, but because it made his heart ache. He had that and he fucked it up. He had someone to hold and kiss and tease, but he allowed himself to become blinded by perceived betrayal instead of trusting her. Someone who had only ever been genuine and selfless with him.  

It was almost a week and a half since he destroyed whatever it was that was blooming between them, something he had never experienced before but craved now with every cell in his deformed body. Six days had passed since he arrived in Norway with Floki. 

He had not heard from his kitten since she had texted him in thanks about the food he ordered when he found her on the couch. He could not think about it too much or he knew he would drive himself mad again. The gaping hole in his chest still bled her name, weeped with missing her touch. 

He appreciated Floki returning home with him. There was a peace here, tucked away in the woods outside Kattegat, that he had never found anywhere else. Not even in his childhood house in the city. Maybe it was the location? Maybe it was the two people who filled it with pieces of themselves and transformed it from a house to a home? Whatever it was, Ivar was grateful to be here. 

The only problem was the silence at night that pursued him. His demons of regret, self-loathing and insecurity stalked him in the darkness, wrapping their claws around his throat to strangle whatever buds of hope tried to blossom in his cheat. 

So he threw himself into his work. Ignoring his body screaming for sleep until he passed out from exhaustion or drinking with Floki. He continued to monitor the traitorous fucker, further tightening the strings of his web until soon it would bind the turncoat and keep him immobile. 

Then Ivar had lethal plans. 

Until then, he kept an eye on other endeavors for Ragnar. Both for the company and off the books, anything to keep his mind busy. More often than not, he would work through the night, not even aware of the sun's arrival until he checked the time. Yet she still invaded his mind with frequency. It certainly did not help that third day, he had drunkenly proclaimed to Floki and Helga, he would send flowers to Kari every day until she took him back. 

Floki had laughed.  

Helga had sighed then leaned forward and told him to stop sending flowers and send something meaningful. 

So far, he had no intentions of ceasing his array of offerings. But he had hoped….wished that by now, she would have texted him. At least thanked him for some of the presents. All he had gotten was radio silence. It burned like ice held against his skin for too long. A permanent chill took up residence in his chest, tightening its grasp on him with each passing day. 

He knew she had received the packages. He was notified every time something was delivered but he also had a contact keeping an eye on her for him. Would she never speak to him again if she learned that she was being watched and followed? Most likely. But she already was giving him the silent treatment and he could not with good conscience allow her to be unprotected. He might not be around anymore but that did nothing to lessen his compelling need to keep her safe. 

Hvitserk text him frequently, sometimes making a passing comment about how Kari was doing since he checked in with her often. Hearing the snippets of their conversations was both a knife to the chest, twisting and further ripping at his heart but also a cooling balm. To hear she was doing alright and she did not hate his family nor him. That she really did just need time to think. 

But how much time? How much longer could he keep waiting? Why would she not just fucking talk to him? Yell at him. Scream until his ears bled. Break one of his bones to help her feel better. Gods, he would let her do anything if it would create a bridge over the void between them. 

He just wanted to know if she thought of him as often as his thoughts turned towards her. 

Sighing, he glanced down at his phone in his hand, bombarded with alerts and notifications but not from the one person he wanted. 

Should he text her? Was it up to him to open that door of communication? But she said she needed time….why was all of this so damn confusing? Why did he have to fuck everything up in the first place?

"I'll go start on dinner." Helga announced, standing up. "Ivar, you should order those books for her next. That was a good idea."

He nodded silently, sending her a small, grateful smile.  

After Helga left, the two men sat in the quietness of nature, gazing out over the water and fjord of Norway. A comfortable silence hovered over them. 

Suddenly, Ivar's phone started ringing, startling him. With a raised brow, he unlocked the screen and brought the phone to his ear. 

"What?"

"How's that vacation of yours?"

"Fuck off."

His father chuckled darkly before clearing his throat and turning serious. "Think you're sober enough to deal with our traitor?"

Ivar tensed, even as his stomach flipped and his fingers twitched in anticipation. "When?"

"Two days."

"Where?"

"Istanbul."

"Good."

Ragnar hummed thoughtly then continued. "He still has no notion we are aware of his activities, correct?"

Ivar snorted. "That goddamn fucker tried to send out information about your supplier in Libya…which does Bjorn even know about this supplier?"

"Not a fucking word, Ivar."

"Yeah, figured." Ivar scoffed, his hand tapped repetitively on his knee as his mind raced. "I'll leave tomorrow. Get everything ready there."

"Excellent. Tell Floki I need him next week."

"Sure."

The click on his phone notified Ivar that his father was no longer on the line and had not even attempted to end the call with a 'goodbye'. Like normal. 

"Ragnar needs you next week." Ivar said, leaning back once again in his seat. Weeks of work, weeks of pouring through files and coded messages while digging deeper and deeper into the mire of corruption and betrayal. All of it would finally come into the light. All his hard work would showcase the snake he had caught, slithering through the henhouse. If only it had known Ivar was the bigger predator, with long-reaching claws and limitless resources. 

"Hmmm….and what's got you so happy?" Floki asked, breaking Ivar from his thoughts. 

He had not even realized a menacing smile covered his lips. Chuckling darkly, he could almost taste the spilled blood on his tongue. He stared straight ahead as he answered Floki, his gaze no longer seeing the fjord but a dark room where justice would be served. "My web has entangled a snake. And now it's time to rip its fangs out and watch it scream as I bleed it dry." 

Tag List:

Vikings (all)

@youbloodymadgenius @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @quantumlocked310 @errruvande-2-0

To Call Forth Love 

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Vikings-Ivar

@breezykpop @frankie-undead-dame

#mz writes #to call forth love #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings #vikings ivar #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern ivar #modern!ivar x oc #ivar the boneless x oc #ivar romance #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk #floki the boat builder #floki #ubbe #gyda lothbrok #gyda

[jadelynlace]

Ink Drinker⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 13

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

pairing: Modern Ivar x F!Reader

author’s note: It may possibly be a holiday miracle that I was able to come up with this chapter. (It’s mostly a filler chapter, but a chapter none the less.) I can’t thank you all enough for the constant support and feedback. Between the moodboards, the asks and drawings; all of it is just so, so special to me. Your support and utter obsession with this silly little AU makes me happier than you will ever know. It’s truly, truly so welcomed and appreciated. The divider is by @firefly-graphics

content warnings: There’s smut! And, feels. And, Ivar being a tool.

word count: 1500+ words

additional note: I had originally planned to end the series with chapter ten, but I can’t leave this AU alone. You’re all doomed and you’re all welcome. This will be the second chapter of Ink Drinker, Part Two. ♡

You feel the pressure send a wave impossibly deep into you; pressing perfectly along the spot Ivar knows so well, and as your back bends, the heat in your legs grows. And Ivar finally shifts, falling back towards his heels as he thrusts, your bare calf along his tattooed chest and if you weren’t at your very tipping point, you’d enjoy the sight for far longer. His arm is secured, keeping your leg at its height as he rests his lips by your ankle and his free hand stays stationed with yours, limply across the sheets. Feeling the tingle in his tailbone, Ivar groans against your skin as you tighten the grip on his cock, his eyes closing briefly as his mouth goes dry. 

Your nails dig into the knuckles on his free hand and with the sudden burst of pressure, he watches you come—how your spine arches, and how your eyes roll into your skull under pleasure. He watches your body moving with his motions, a bounce to your chest and as you moan his name, the grip on his cock still tightens. But instead of staying where he’s enclosed, your leg is dropped as a forgotten thought and Ivar moves; his cock slipping free before his hand wraps it—and this sight you do savor. How his prick takes up home in his palm, tugging himself quickly while his breathes heavily with each passing second of finding himself on his own cusp. And then his lips part, a hearty moan filling your ears as his release dribbles white ribbons onto your skin, painting you in his essence before his hand pulls the last few streaks out. Releasing himself, his hand drops, finding your thigh and landing over your ink without a second thought; like clockwork, or a compass home with his eyes still closed. 

“One day I’m going to get a picture of that,” You whisper, and one of Ivar’s eyes open at your oddly timed sentence. 

“I have…several pictures of this,” Ivar replies, finding his biceps on each side of you while the glow of azure irises trace the lines you’re marked with. 

“Not of me, of you,” You answer with a smirk and Ivar curls his lip in a pretend distaste, but it’s just that. Pretend. 

“I’m not going to draw it for you,” Ivar quips as his reaches slowly, pulling the hair tie from his locks and they drop, longer now as they dust past his shoulders and you hum.

He moves slowly, climbing back over you with no single care for how he lays, his seed between the two of you and you swear you can feel a twitch through his limp cock when he registers the sensation. And that thought only sparks more curiosity through your skin before his mouth moves lazily against yours, humming as your nails dance through the artwork on his back. As they finally twirl through his hair, Ivar shifts, dropping his full weight over you and your head empties, putting your focus into scratching his scalp with his breath on your neck but your mind fails at that too. A heavy blanket along your entire body becomes your undoing and your eyes close, your hands drop to his back and Ivar swears he can feel the exact moment you fall asleep.  

*

Deep boxes, some taped shut still and some wide open scattered through the threshold. You were surprised Ivar gave you the task so willingly: packing his belonging for the promise of the shared space in the new apartment. With your legs bent like branches, your fingers pull against the small plastic page and there lives the slightest inclination of curiosity written on your features.

“What do you have?” Ivar asks.

“Definitely not your baby photos,” You echo back, another quick turn of the page in your lap. “I still can’t believe you were a blond baby,”

“Give me those,” Ivar snaps far too harshly, reaching forwards to grab the booklet, a low rumble to his words as he needs nothing to remind him of his childhood.

“You were so cute Ivar,” You whine, meekly trying to reach for the bundle once more.

“I don’t know what the hell happened,” He ushers back, his figure turning away from you as he takes a quick glance over the photos: him and Hvitserk on the front lawn, Ivar with the gap of one missing tooth, and Hvitserk with one to match.

“I hope our kids look like you,” Ivar hears you say and you don’t even have to look at him to know the expression that has molded to his face.

“Do you think they’ll be like me…with the….” And his words trail off. “Because if they are, we’re screwed baby—I was a horrible kid because of it,” Ivar says softly.

“We’re not screwed,” You answer with a heavy sigh. “What you went through as a child is not going to be what our children go through,” You remind him, standing from the couch to meet his space. “And if anything, you know exactly what not to do, to be like Ragnar,” You speak, eyes up at his face as he studies the book. “Can you stop worrying, for like two minutes about our children, Ivar? Because, for one, I’m not even pregnant,”

“Worry is the one thing I’m good at,” Ivar say back coldly. You send your eyes sky high, rolling them and taking in the entire living room as they loop. The bloody words of Ivar own self hatred only sink the dagger further into your heart, drawing the banter to be so heavy against your consciousness and you know Ivar isn’t doing it to spite you; he talks this way about himself because it had kept him safe in the past. No one can be as mean to Ivar as he is to himself, and in turn, no one’s words hurt like his do.

“Ivar,” You suddenly say, snapping the booklet from his hand. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, I don’t want to hear it,” You demand, eyebrows creasing between anger and sorrow. “Because I know it’s not true, and somewhere you know it’s not true either,” Your arms cross, and your stance moves to be consistent with the look you have given to any patients that are willing to battle. The dazzling features across your face as you scowled towards Ivar before his chest heaves with sorrow, because he can detect where you lay the disappointment in your irises as they watch his flicker.

“Sorry,” Ivar says suddenly, moving his face to look away. 

“Ivar,” You say again, nails pushing his face to catch yours. “I know you’re stressed, alright? What’s going on up here?” You then ask, tapping your nail against his temple.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re real,” Ivar starts and it causes you to snort. “And that I get to spend my life with you, and I’m always going to worry that one day I’ll wake up and—”

“Ivar, there is not one thing you could do that will make me want to leave you. You don’t possess the ability. Do you doubt my love?” You ask.

“Never, baby,” Ivar says back quickly as his eyes drop to yours. 

“Then listen to that,” You say back. “I know you hardly ever want to listen to the good things your mind says, but believe that. Over anything else,” Ivar offers you simply a shallow nod and a somber smile gracing his lips. “Now, did you lose that front tooth because you fell down a slide?” You tease.

“Actually, Floki pulled it out,” Ivar answers as his lips finally crease into a small grin. “He tried to tell me it would be quick, and painless, and I envisioned a door and a string, not the pliers he decided to use,”

*

The move consists of filling Floki’s fleet of trucks to their brinks; locking extra furniture into a storage container, and convincing Ivar he doesn’t have to unload all of boxes in one night. Even if your failure on that is trophy worthy, you remind him about a certain city that wasn’t built in a day and all he responds firmly with is: “The apartment will be.”

Drumming his fingers across the granite, Ivar’s eyes refocus as he places the final collection of utensils into their respective homes. They slide in with whispers and you catch him staring at the colorful display of stone when you’re back through the door with the final suitcase. 

“Getting tired?” You ask, pushing hair from your face and you feel your muscles ache with overuse and you can only imagine how much more sore you’re going to feel at sunrise. 

“You know what I was thinking?” Ivar says, pushing the drawer to close and turning back to you. 

“That I was right, and you can’t unload every single thing we both own in one lone night?” You try back, grabbing your water bottle from the counter near his wrist. 

“Oh, no, actually it was how different this granite is going to feel under your ass when we christen the apartment,” Ivar teases. 

Tags:

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

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full masterlist can be found here.

#Vikings #vikings fiction #vikings au #modern vikings #modern vikings fanfiction #modern vikings au #ivar #vikings ivar #modern vikings ivar #ivar smut #modern ivar smut #ivar au #modern ivar au #vikings smut #ivar lothbrok fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar lothbrok #ivar lothbrok smut #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar x you #modern ivar x you #ivar x reader #modern ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson #modern ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson fanfiction #ivar ragnarsson smut #ivar ragnarsson x reader #— hands so bloody tastes like honey. ( ink drinker vibes: ivar ) #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )

[multific]

Burn the World for You

Ivar The Boneless x Reader

Summary: When you are taken, Ivan doesn't take it too kindly.

Being Queen of Kattegat came with a price. 

The price was that you were often attacked. People who were trying to take Ivar off of the throne often thought it would be the best way to do so by hurting you.

Since you were his wife.

Ivar absolutely adores you. You are his everything. His little wife.

You have known him since you two were only children. You watched him grow up to be a handsome man, while he watched you become the gorgeous woman you were today.

Your marriage came as no news to anyone.

And now, you were the Queen.

His Queen.

Who was kidnapped by three men. 

You knew better than to struggle against the rope. You knew better than to try and fight them.

They didn't know the wrath of your husband. But they will soon learn.

You were quiet and collected as they dragged you to their camp not too far from your home.

How stupid were they? Even if no one was looking for you, they could find them easily!

Ivar swore he nearly entered Valhalla just by the sight of his bedchambers.

Everything was ruined, your favourite things were thrown everywhere, but most of all, you were gone.

Gone and there was blood on the floor. He sincerely hoped it wasn't yours.

Ivar saw red as he called his brothers and men to go and find you. With an axe in hand, he was also out for blood.

How dare anyone take you from him?! 

You were patient. Even when a knife was held to your neck, you remained stoic.

You let out a deep sigh when finally Hvitserk arrived.

He killed the men and brought you back to your home.

"Where's my wife?!" you heard Ivar yell as he pushed himself through the crowd and into your home. Finally, as the door closed behind him, you walked over to him as he hugged you, he gave a thankful look to his brother who only nodded before he left you two alone.

"I'm fine Ivar. Idiots didn't even have a decent plan..."

"I gave you a knife... where is it?"

"I just finished bathing when they barged in, my knife and axe weren't with me." Ivar nodded, letting out long sighs and taking deep breaths.

"I thought I lost you."

"And I know you would come for me." you cupped his cheeks in your hands. "Even as they were talking about how they will kill me all I could think about was how I knew you would show up at any second and just kill all three of them. And then, your brother showed up. You sent him and he saved me," you placed a kiss on his lips. "No one will take me from you, Ivar. Not even the Gods." he smiled as he pulled you closer.

You knew he was happy to have you back as you could only imagine how angry he was when he realized that you were gone. 

But now, you were back by his side, where you belonged. 

He placed his nose into your neck, taking deep breaths to calm himself and to let his mind and body realise that you were indeed back

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

#ivar #ivar the boneless #vikings ivar #Ivar the Boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar imagines #Ivar ragnarsson #Ivar ragnarsson x reader #Ivar ragnarsson imagine #Ivar ragnarsson imagines #Ivar ragnarsson x you #vikings fanfiction #vikings modern au #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #Ivar the Boneless imagine #Ivar the Boneless imagines

[bjornswoman]

My prisoner

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hello! I've been away for a while and I'm sorry about it. I wanted to come back with a fic about Bjorn, but this one was something that I was thinking for a while and I decided that this one will come out first. I want to believe that vikings fandom are still active. Anyway, till next time have fun and take care.

Pairing: Modern!Hvitserk x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, drama, romance, fluff.

Summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks free from prison.

Warnings: Drama, mentions of prison break, mentions of death.

Life had never been easy for you.

When you thought that things started getting better, something really bad happened and you were back to zero.

Life had shown you its worst face so far.

You had lost your parents at young age. You were struggling all alone, dealing with two awful jobs and an ex that was more pain in the ass than all the bills you had to pay at the end of each month.

Your life became much more difficult when you decided to get involved with the most infamous family of the city — the Lothbroks. These men — the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, a mobster — they run a dangerous gang the one their father had founded. You couldn't even want to think about all the illegal stuff they were doing and the police was after them.

The bad thing in that was that the police had you under their microscope, as well, because you were Hvitserk Lothbrok's girlfriend — ex girlfriend.

And things became even worse than before when they put him in jail, after your break-up, and he decided with the help of his family to break free.

The police was following each movement of yours. They were tracking your phone number, listening to all your phone calls, expecting to learn about your ex. They had even someone outside your apartment to watch you over.

You told them over and over again that you had nothing to do with that filthy man anymore, but they wouldn't believe in you.

You let a long breath leave your lungs as you were cleaning the bar counter.

"What is it again?" One of your coworkers asked. Well, Hope was more than a coworker, she was your friend.

The only one you could talk to and not raise any suspicions. You were friends with Torvi — the wife of Ubbe Lothbrok — and Gunnhild — the wife of Bjorn Lothbrok — but you couldn't see them, it was too risky to get in touch with any member of the family. Of course, the police kept a close eye on them, but still you couldn't have any kind of communication with any of the family.

"It's the usual problem with... him." You said as you were placing the clean glasses on their place behind the counter.

"The police is following me around like I'm some kind of a bloody criminal because I made the mistake to start a relationship with a mobster." You spoke angrily and threw the towel on the counter. You were so angry, so frustrated with all this mess. Your hands run through your hair.

"I know that this is difficult for you, but it is going to end, sweetheart. It will end when they get this son of a bitch back where he belongs — in prison." She said wih an encouraging smile on her face and her hand rubbed your back friendly.

Only those words weren't encouraging for you. Deep in your heart you didn't want him to get caught and sent back inside there again. It hurt you to think that the man you loved were inside a called cell.

It was true that he wasn't the best guy in the world, not even close to that. Hvitserk had done some bad things that he wasn't proud of and he had regretted of doing. He had a good heart and wanted to be better.

You forced something that was the resemblance of a smile on your face and followed her to the kitchen to get the orders and walk them to the costumers.

"Did he try to contact you after you know?" Hope asked you suddenly and you nodded your head as an answer — no he didn't and it quite hurt you. But you had broken up before he got in.

"At least, he didn't dare to after all he did."

You frowned when you heard the tone of her voice. Hvitserk had never hurt you. In fact, the reason he broke up with you was because he didn't want to involve you in his mess, in the shit he was deep into, but it was late for that.

"He didn't harm me." You muttered when you got back with an epty tray in your hands.

Hope rolled her eyes and continued to place the drinks on her tray. When she finished, she turned her eyes on you.

"But he harmed other people. He is a criminal. Prison is where he belongs." Those where her words before she waltzed through the tables with her tray in hands.

Her words were harsh for a man she didn't know at all. Yeah, Hvitserk did awful things, but he wasn't just that. You had seen the good side of his. You had seen the little broken child in him. The one who felt full when you showed him your love and affection. The one who tried to shield your heart even from him.

The rest of your shift went by as usual. There weren't many clients as a typical Wednesday night. But things changed when you got that damned phone call.

It was a couple of times before the closing time when Torvi called. You didn't expect her to, you didn't expect anyone from the family to reach for you. When you saw her name on the screen, you used the back door to get out and answered her call.

"Torvi?" The tone of your trembling voice gave away easily to level of your concern about Hvitserk. Torvi wouldn't call if something bad did not happen. Something had happened. Something that you wouldn't like to hear.

"What happened? You know that it's not safe to speak through the phone." Your body was pressed on the wall next to the door and your hand was clenching the phone.

"Something came up which we don't know whether it stands or not, but I had to inform you because Ubbe said that they are 80% sure that it's true." You felt the despair and sadness in the tone of her voice as well as you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

Hvitserk — your mind screamed but your tongue didn't. You waited to hear more before you even try to fight back your emotions.

"Tell me for the love of Gods! What happened?" You were almost crying now.

Torvi took a deep breath before her next words.

"They found a body — a body in a really awful state. It's unrecognizable. At the time were are talking they are in a lab waiting for the results of the DNA analysis. But, Ubbe said that they are almost sure that the body belongs to Hvitserk. He didn't contact the brothers after the escape, they thought he was hiding and would eventually come out, but he didn't."

You couldn't hear the most of it. You collapsed on the floor halfway and closed your eyes forcefully in an attempt to fight the waterfalls of tears to fall. Your free hand moved on your face and it touched your forehead.

You stopped hearing. You were crying. He couldn't be dead. Hvitserk couldn't die. Not like this.

"They killed him and threw his body in a ditch in a middle of nowhere. The people who killed him are the same who framed him with this murder he didn't commit." She continued, but you couldn't hear anymore. Your brain couldn't process all these. You couldn't process the fact that Hvitserk was dead.

"Hvitserk..." You muttered his name like it was a prayer between your sobs.

"I know it hurts but you—"

You didn't let her finish. You ended the damned call and let your phone fall from your hands. You hid your face in your palms and let yourself cry and mourn the love of your life — the only person you were able to love this much and loved you back in his own different way.

After some time, you gathered your broken heart and the pieces of your body and got in. You wiped your tears and cleaned your face with some fresh water. You had to stay strong for a couple of times and then you could cry all your wanted.

At the closing, you took out the trash in an attempt to cry to yourself for a bit in the darkness where no one could see your tears for the man you loved the most. You were so sad and shattered that you didn't notice a black figure approaching you.

You only noticed when one of his hands was on your mouth and the pushed you in a dark corner. You eyes opened widely and your heart beat went faster until you saw the face of your captor.

He let you see his face. He took his hood off and got rid of the black scarf which was covering his mouth and nose. When you could finally see him, he freed your mouth and you gasped.

"You!" You whispered out of breath. Your hand run on his features that you missed so much. The last time you could saw him in person was many months ago, almost a month before he got arrested.

"Shh!" His index finger was on your lips.

"Don't shush me! I thought you were fucking dead! Torvi called an—" All your whisper-yelling stopped when his lips fell violently on yours. The very thing he did every time he wanted to get away feom scolding. But this time you weren't going to get mad or stop him, until not as long as you could breathe.

His skilled lips were moving just perfect on yours and the facial hair he had were just perfect. His hands grabbed you by the waist and you placed your own hands around his neck. Your body was pressed on the wall by his own.

This kiss felt like salvation. It was like you were whole again. It felt like you could breathe even if you didn't. You didn't want it to stop, but it had. After all, you two had many things to discuss.

Much to your displeasure, it stopped because of the lack of air to your lungs. His hands left your waist and moved on your face where he caressed your cheeks softly.

But that loving moment didn't last long, before he noticed, your hand collided with his cheek violently and his head turned at the side.

"Was that necessary? Why did you do it?" Hvitserk whisper-yelled. His palm was on his hurting cheek that had your mark on it, along with the mark of your nails.

"You scared me to fucking death with your bloody lies. Plus, you were a total dick to me when I called you in jail." You spoke and gazed at him. You had missed him terribly.

"Hey!" With that Hvitserk grabbed your face between his hands. Your faces were dangerously close for once more. "I told you, you shouldn't have called me there. As for my little lie, it was my only chance to see you." You spoke and left a soft kiss on your forehead.

"And how would that be? The police is out there waiting for a stupid movement of yours — exactly like this one — to get you. They are after me — following every step of mine. You shouldn't be here." You told him and tried to leave him in the darkness. You didn't want him to get caught because of you.

Hvitserk didn't let slip from his hands. His strong grip held there in from of him.

"It's dangerous, Hvitserk." You whispered at him.

Hvitserk smirked and one of his hands placed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"See that was exactly my plan with all this dead body lie. Indeed, there was a body, but not mine — obviously — and we used it to mislead them. They will try to find the body and they won't pay attention to you. At least, not as much as they did." He explained and you smiled.

"Ivar's plan?" You asked all smiling and he smiled back.

"Like you don't know the answer to that."

After that, you stayed there gazing at each other, having only the stars witnessing this moment between you.

"Why did you break my heart?" You asked as your eyes were only on his. You wanted to hear the truth coming out of his mouth.

His green eyes were glowing under the lights of the stars.

"I – I don't deserve you. You are kind and sweet and so angelic and I am the exact opposite. I am so filthy that I'll defile your purity. I've done things that I'm not proud about — bad things."

"Then why are you here now?"

Your question made him think about it himself once more. His eyes were looking only deep inside yours. You could feel his pain when he talked about the stuff he did, you could feel everying through those eyes. It hurt you to think that he felt this way for himself.

"Behind the bars, in that cell, the only thing you can do is thinking. You're thinking about all the right and wrong decisions of your life till the moment you got in — especially the wrong ones keep you up all night. And what kept me up was you. The thought of never seeing you again, never hearing your voice, you laugh, your scolding. I just couldn't live knowing that I hurt you. I love you. My life without you is meaningless."

"Just never push me away again, okay?" You spoke as your hand wiped a couple tears away from your eyes. Hvitserk help you and when there weren't any more tears in your eyes, he caressed your skin softly.

"I love you, you idiot." You muttered and kissed him again. This kiss was so much different from the previous one. It soft and loving.

"The plan is to never let you slip away from me ever again." He spoke as he was caressing your hair.

"And how is that supposed to happen?"

"We will leave together here and now."

You frowned. You weren't expecting him to say something like this. You pushed him back, so you could face him.

"Wait... You want us to leave everything behind — our lives — and run away. This – this is....." You couldn't form a proper sentence. You were to process his proposition.

Kattegat was everything you knew — the place you called home. Everyone you knew was here and by that you meant your friends and some very distant relatives. Apart from your life, his life was in this place. His family, his job.

"(Y/N), there's nothing for us here. If I stay, I'll go to prison and I won't be able to hold you ever again. I will leave at the end of the day, there is no future for me in this city." Both of your hearts were beating fast at the thought that you would never see each other again after this night.

It was true that there was nothing here for you, only these two jobs that you hated. You couldn't know what future had in store for you, but if you let Hvitserk leave alone, you would hate yourself for the rest of your life.

Hvitserk's hand grabbed yours and closed it in both of his palms, but before that his finger gripped your chin and moved your head in such position that you could look at each other.

"The clock is ticking — the time is running fast. You have to give me your answer now. Are you coming with me right now?"

His eyes were begging you to say yes.

His heart was begging you to say yes.

But your mind was the problem. Your mind was hesitating to follow him wherever he was going to take you.

You closed your eyes for a moment. You couldn't choose between your heart and your mind. A whole war had broke inside you.

"(Y/N)?"

At the sound of your name on his lips you opened your eyes.

"I will come wherever you are willing to go. I can't live without you, my love." You told him and hugged him tightly.

Hvitserk wrapped his hand with yours and pulled you close to him.

"Are you sure? If we leave now — together — there's no coming back. We will be both fugitives." He told you smirking.

You chuckled when you heard him.

"That's a risk I'd love to take for you."

With those last words Hvitserk and you run away from the police and the city forever.

#vikings hvitserk #modern hvitserk #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk fanfic #vikings fic #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #modern hvitserk x reader #vikings imagine #modern vikings #vikings modern au #vikings fanfiction #vikings au #vikings x reader #modern vikings x reader #modern au

[underscorewriting]

Could you do one where the reader is Lagertha younger sister and in a relationship with ivar the boneless

this. this is the one I might be the most excited for to write!

Thank you for your request :)

May the gods forbid.

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: Language probably?

Words: 2.425

This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was. He wasn't supposed to happen. The gods were playing tricks on her, this couldn't be real. She wanted to hate him, hate how he despised her sister. He was a smartass, an arrogant little boy with anger issues if something didn't go his way.

One son of Ragnar was her greatest fear for her younger sister. Ivar. He was unpredictable and even though the girl was taught how to fight, Lagertha knew that she would not be good enough to protect herself from him. That was the main reason why Lagrtha forbid her sister to leave her side. Lagertha was always very protective of her, even more when the sons of Aslaug and Ragnar started planning to kill her or hurt her the same way she hurt them by killing their mother.

So one night when the girl was upset and searched for a place to hide away, she walked into the woods. Flokis and Helgas place always brought her the most comfort when her and Lagertha fought, those were the times she thought the girl was quietly in her chamber. Sitting down in a small meadow, she leaned back, watching the stars, inhaling the fresh air.

Rustling behind her made her hand quickly shoot to the dagger she kept on her thigh. "Well don't you look cozy." The cold voice of the prince made her flinch as she sat up completely, her body being on alert if he tried anything. "What do you want, Ivar?" The exhaustion from was as clear in her voice and how she said his name as it was on her face. She didn't want to live like this. To live a life that held nothing for her, since she wasn't allowed to do much. Even her nephew Björn was always watching over her when he was here.

Tilting his head Ivar studied her face for a second before crawling over to her and settling down besides her. "I decided I won't kill you." He pursed his lips looking over at her a playful glint in his eyes. "Not yet at least." A small smile pulled at her lips as she averted her face. "Ubbe told us about how Lagertha screamed at you. She was always quiet..." A stern glare from the girl made the boy hold his hands up in defense, a small smirk on his face as he saw her hand moving away from the dagger, finally starting to relax.

Ivar was a simple man, his plan to kill Lagertha was only left uncompleted due to his attraction to her little sister and now having her here in front of him was something he didn't know he longed for. Looking back up at the sky she sighed in frustration. "How is the world out there? You traveled didn't you?" Sitting up straight she turned to him.

The young princes eyebrows raised in surprise as he smiled slightly. "The world is huge, it has so much to see." pouting slightly the girl cursed her sister as she listened to Ivars stories. He told her all about Wessex and the people there, how different their belief are from theirs, which she as well found hilarious. As the night turned colder they took the path back to their home. Not once did they stop talking about what he saw out there and what she would want to see once she'll get out there.

"Gods, I want to see the world, Ivar." Smiling softly she twirled and inhaled the fresh air. Watching her Ivar felt his heart swell at the sight of her carefreeness. "I want to show it to you." His tone was serious and when she looked at him she saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Ivar..." Her voice was a mere whisper, shaking her head she sat down in the dirt near a haystack.

"We can't. Lagertha would never allow this. She wouldn't allow us, Ivar..." She was desperate for him to understand that this would never happen, but he was not having any of it. He would take what he want and if he wanted to have her, then he was going to have her. "Your sister does not control you, nor does anyone else. You should be able to live your life how you want it to be, the gods forbid that you won't live it to the fullest."

Looking around she kissed his cheek quickly. "I'll meet with you in the meadow tomorrow night, don't be late!" She turned around as she quickly ran to her chambers, smiling brightly at him before entering. The young prince couldn't help but grin at her actions, feeling a little giddy himself.

After that night they started sneaking around at night, only sharing small meaningful glances at each other when they passed one another or during a feast. Soon Lagertha grew suspicious, but not because she noticed any of the glances, no, it was because suddenly her sister started training more, stopped questioning her about being able to travel. It was as if she suddenly stopped caring about all that.

Ubbe offered to train with her, Lagertha trusted him so she allowed him to take her sister to the woods during the day as well. Ivar told his brothers about her and how he wanted to see her at any costs as much as he could. In the woods the four of them would train, Ivar didn't trust Sigurd close to her, due to disgusting glances he threw her way when she was merely visiting them over the past years.

She soon found herself growing closer to the brothers and feeling accepted by them. Freedom, was so close she could almost taste it. Walking with Ivar at night was her newly found escape, after he got his greave done for his legs and fixed up his crutches they could even hold hands while walking. Him rubbing her hand soothingly with his thumb, placing ocationally kisses onto her palm , whenever she talked about something that upset her. He enjoyed listening to her almost as much as her gentle kisses he would get to feel whenever his pain was unbearable.

They balanced each other nicely and after a few months the word marriage appeared more and more in their talks about their future. The girl was scared of how her sister would react to her and the youngest Ragnarsson being inseparable and spent every minute they could together.

But she didn't need to tell her, because one day during her and Ubbes training lessons, while she was play fighting with Ivar . Lagertha walked up the path, none of them noticed her sharp eyes watching. Ivar had her pinned down, laughing while she tried to push him of before rolling over and sitting on his stomach, having the prince at her mercy making her grin down at him.

Ubbe and Hvitserk were watching them, drinking ale and laughing at what the other said. Lagertha was disappointed in her, why didn’t she tell her that they were lovers? She continues watching them and filled an old familiar pain in her heart. Ivar was holding her sister now, not strong enough to hurt but strong enough to let her know he had control over the situation but her sister seemed completely fine with it as she leaned into his chest looking up at him with gentle eyes and a loving smile.

Ivars smile matched hers and in this exact moment Lagertha realized that she kept her sister protected from the most beautiful thing out there, a thing she herself shared with Ragnar even after his death. Love. Ivar was similar to Ragnar in many ways, but with her in his arms he resembled his father more than anyone would guess. Of course, she didn’t want her sister to be with someone like Ivar, he was dangerous, but if it is him that makes her as happy as she is right now, then that is all she would ask for.

Returning to her throne back in the great hall Lagertha couldn’t stop thinking about how she should’ve noticed the signs. Ivar was more around than he used to be, it wasn’t his normal behavior. Besides he was being a lot kinder than usual. As Torvi entered the great hall she noticed how lost in thoughts the queen was. „What is the matter?“ She said as she walked next to to sit down by her side. „Did you know about Ivar and my sister?“ Lagertha turned to Torvi catching the younger woman smile apologetic. „Ubbe said I wasn’t supposed to tell you, I apologize.“

As she heard giggles and laughter she could tell the four of them were coming closer, she prepared herself to confront her sister about this. But how was she supposed to? She was spying on her when she found out, not having had one good reason to walk out there in the woods except to check up on her actually being there. Ubbe was the first one to walk into the great hall, he noticed something was up when Torvi didn’t greet him right away. The girl was still outside giggling and whispering. Her whispers could be heard in the whole hall. Quietness settled in as the last three of them walked in, the girl walking a little behind but smiling brightly whenever Ivar would turn around to see if she was still there with him.

„Hello sister!“ The girl greeted and smiles brightly at Lagertha. The queen did not respond, making her feel uneasy as she glanced toward Ubbe, who sighed quietly looking down. Instantly the girl knew what was going on. Panicking she walked closer to her, a nervous laugh escaping her as she looked back to Ivar in reassurance. „It isn’t like you think…“ Lagerthas raised an eyebrow making the girl feel even more uneasy. „Well then how is it? Because it looks like my sister is keeping secrets from me. Keeping secrets because she thinks I don’t want to see her happy or loved.“

The girl gasped softly wondering just how much her sister had seen. „Lagertha, I promise you I do not have any intentions behind my bond with your sister. It’s about her not about you or how you killed my mother.“ Ivar broke the silence looking at Lagertha with pure hatred but his eyes seemed to soften when he looked over at the girl standing close to her. The girl flinched at Ivars harsh words. The woman on the throne couldn’t stop herself from laughing. „I did not even think about that for a second Ivar, because you wouldn’t even be able to.“

„Sister, Ivar would be capable of ruling over Kattegat just as well as you are. His ideas for this village are incredible. If you would just listen to them you’d see how capable he would be to do everything he wanted to.“ With wide eyes the girl just realized what she said, covering her mouth she looked down. „I’m sorry I spoke out of tune.“ Lagertha studied her and saw a lot of how she acted because of Ragnar in her sister, smiling slightly. As her eyes wandered to Ivar, she caught him smirking, his eyes glistening with pride and love as his eyes wandered over her figure.

Getting of her throne Lagertha stopped only in front of her. Her hand went up to cup her cheek, making the girl flinch. The boy tried to crawl over to them making sure the girl stayed unharmed, but Ubbe held him back making the young boy fight against his hold. „He makes you happy, doesn’t he?“ Lagerthas voice was quiet as she smiled down at her sister softly. Nodding her head the girl looked back up at her. „More than anything.“ Her eyes held a sincerity that the woman saw rarely. She was a bit taken aback by her truthfulness. Of course, she was upset about it having to be Ivar. Hvitserk would’ve been easier to accept but sadly that’s not what happened. „How could it be him, he is cruel and no good for you, my sweet sister…“ She could see Ivar lowering his head, knowing that Lagertha was right about him being cruel, not being good enough for the girl.

„He wants to show me the world. He isn’t cruel, he is just easy to upset and in pain, Lagertha…“ Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how bad Ivars legs had been these past weeks. „The gods are cruel to him sometimes, so I pray. I pray to them to stop it and he starts to feel better. He is not a cruel man, Lagertha. He just isn’t!“ Her hands were trembling as she clenched them into fists. Lagertha could only stare at her in shock. For how long was their relationship kept a secret from her? „How long did you feel like this about him?“ She grew angry for being held in the dark that long. „All of this started a little over six months ago…“ The girls head hung low as she fidgeted with her fingers.

Looking at her hand she noticed a little mark on her ring finger looking over at Ivar she saw the same small mark on the same finger. „You’re thinking about marriage…“ She gasped quietly taking a step back from her sister. „I accept your decision, but I do not support it. Though I will give you my blessing only because I haven’t seen you happy like this in ages. You are my little sister and I love you and I want you to be loved. As much as I don’t like Ivar, I have to say that he truly seems to love you and care for you.“ Smiling widely the girl hugged her sister tightly, throwing her arms around her. „Thank you!“ She repeated those words until she turned to Ivar grinning at him shyly.

Ivar walked over to her cupping her cheek before he kissed her forehead and leaned his against hers. „I told it would work out somehow, my love. May the gods forbid anything would part us until we both are on our way to dine with the gods in Valhalla.“

Lagertha couldn’t fight the smile as she watched the both of them. Even though she disliked Ivar, she was certain he would treat her right. Maybe even better than Ragnar treater her. She could tell in his smile, in his eyes, in every action towards her sister, that he adored her.

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar x reader #ivar fluff #ivar imagine #vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar the king #ivar x you #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar fanfic #vikings ivar #modern ivar #ivar x oc #ivar vikings #ivar smut

[heavenlymorals]

A Grave in Autumn

Summary: After getting a call from his wife that his youngest son is at the hospital and may not make it, Ragnar Lothbrok takes a moment to visit the grave of his dead daughter. If his son were to die, it wouldn't be his first rodeo.

Modern AUs are always so fun to read and so hard to write. I did have fun with this though 🍂 (Gyda deserved better-). Also, small headcanon, but I picture modern Ivar to be a least somewhat into goth fashion/culture. Where does this headcanon come from? From the fact that he had no fucking color in his wardrobe in the series.

All around him, the leaves were an ombre of red, orange, and yellow. The wind blew viciously across the branches and leaves fluttered all around him like sparks of tepid fire. The leaves would wisp all around him, clinging to his coat, to his hair, to his beard. Ragnar got annoyed and would pinch the wonderfully dead foliage and drop it mindlessly on the ground. The leaf, whether red or orange or yellow, would cover up the drab brown leaves that crunched loudly under each heavy footprint.��

Autumn was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. All around him, he could see its beauty. Mother nature was a wonderful artist, no doubt. As far as Ragnar Lothbrok was concerned, no one could try to replicate her designs even if they wished to. Or maybe it was God’s design, who knew? He wore a golden cross with him almost all the time, a gift from his dearest friend Athelstan who either A. died a long time ago, or B. disappeared so he would never have to deal with the downward spiral that was Ragnar Lothbrok. If it was the latter, Ragnar couldn’t blame him. He was a toxic friend, a terrible person. Abandonment was far too kind of a fate for him. 

He kept walking along the trail. It was dusty and old. It seemed that the church to whom the cemetery belonged fell on hard times. The trail wasn’t crisp in its lines. All around it, one could see the breaching of sickly dead weeds strangling the grass. They were now a yellowish color, which reminded Ragnar heavily of vomit. He would know. He used to drink a lot. Did crack a lot. He threw up many times, the aroma becoming dimmer and dimmer on his nose each time it happened. After a while, it simply became an inconvenience, like how muscles would get sore after a good day at the gym. 

That was…terrifying, looking back at it, now, on the straight and narrow and sober. How he was so willing to overlook such significant things to escape his misery through artificial ecstasy. Getting high and getting drunk was his happiness. What made it worse was that he was still Ragnar Lothbrok, smart, lucky Ragnar Lothbrok, who could achieve whatever he wished. He was still running his business to a T. He was still making money. He was still skyrocketing into fame and fortune. Because of this, he couldn’t bring himself to care that this was wrong. 

Sober. He’s sober now. He’d still drink now and then, but he was still sober. He’d never touch any recreational drug ever again. 

As he kept walking across the trail, he came face to face with an iron fence. The fence itself was this fine between being of minimalist style and dabbling in the intricate gothic fashion that many cemeteries were fond of. As he opened the gate, it creaked loudly. Somewhat ought to oil the thing. 

He kept walking across that dingy trail until all around him were a plethora of tombstones. He absent-mindedly made note of the shapes. Square-top headstones. Ogee headstones. Arc tops and check tops. The iconic cross headstones, becoming dull at the edges from the constant wind and rain. Some of the headstones had angels carved onto them. One of them caught Ragnar’s eye. The angel was in the image of a young girl. Her hair was adorned with thick, Grecian curls as she looked down at the grave ledger with her hands clasped together and her eyes closed in a solemn expression. Her dress cascaded down her in intricate folds and from the back, two small wings spread out delicately. The whole headstone was made of marble and the ledger was a polished black ingrained with gold. 

It must have been expensive. 

Ragnar sighed and continued walking, passing more tombs, some simple, some not. Some were clean and others were forgotten, as evidenced by the green moss and the stained brown that defiled them. He kept walking up the trail till he made it up to a secluded corner in the cemetery. There weren't any other tombs in this area, thus it looked almost abandoned. Shading the entire thing was a proud Norway Maple. It looked like it was on fire, with how bright it was. If he touched a leaf, he was sure that he might’ve burned his finger. The ravens seem fine though, cawing proudly and dancing on the branches. Fitting that the ravens were here. Ever a companion of death. Ever since ‘God’ and ‘Jesus’ weren’t the ones who held dominion over the heavens, but Odin and his brood. 

The leaves fell again and covered what Ragnar was looking for. 

A flat tombstone.

Perhaps it would make sense to know why he was looking for this unassuming little slab of rock. Why he was trekking through this cemetery. Why he gazed so intently on the guardian angel that prayed over that anonymous deceased. 

A few days ago, he got a call from his wife, Aslaug. He used the term loosely. His marriage to Aslaug came from a place of practicality more than a place of love. He met the woman at a club and well, one thing led to another, and they slept together. Other than to relieve his hard-on with a beautiful woman, he also did it as an act of revenge. Before that fateful night, he learned that his  wife, now ex-wife, Lagertha, had been sleeping with his brother while they were together and that his oldest son, Bjorn, might’ve never been his child. Thankfully, one discreet DNA check later revealed that Bjorn WAS his son, but Ragnar was still pissed. He slept with Aslaug, made it rather easy for Lagertha to figure out, and then left. 

And being rather petty back then, he wasted no time courting Aslaug after he found out she was pregnant with his child and making her fall in love with him just as a final ‘fuck you’ to Lagertha. It rubbed salt in Lagertha’s wounds that Aslaug was pregnant as they tried many times after Bjorn’s birth to have another child but failed over and over again. 

Looking back at it now, since he is older and at least somewhat wiser, he could only cringe at how childish he was, how needlessly petty. 

In any case, he didn’t love Aslaug in the same way that he used to love Lagertha. He loved her as the mother of his children, but besides that? No. He didn’t love her. This then lead to many issues in their relationship, which could have contributed to his affairs with drugs and alcohol and her similar bouts with alcohol.

They managed to sort that whole business out, somehow. For now, they were simply married for convenience and neither of them was particularly keen on destroying that convenience. 

Anywho, yes, he got a call from Aslaug and a deep pit of blackness threatened to consume him whole. He still remembered how the phone buzzed in his pocket, how he narrowed his eyes as he saw the caller ID, how he swiped to answer, all of that.

And how his heart sank as he received this terrible news.

“Ragnar?”

“Who else then? What’s going on, Aslaug?” 

Silence on the other end of the line. He swore he could’ve heard a choked sound, one that came from a person trying to swallow their pain and misery. 

“Aslaug?”

“It’s Ivar. Oh, God, it’s Ivar,” the mother of his children seemed frantic, hysteric. Her breathing came out ragged.

“What about him,” Ragnar asked, trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t even know what was going on. 

“He was with Hvitserk. He was supposed to pick Ivar up from school. I don’t know what the hell they were doing, but they got into a crash. Hvitserk got out lucky with only a broken arm but Ivar- You know how fragile he is. The doctors are not sure if he’ll make it.”

Ragnar couldn’t bring himself to say much. Aslaug gave him the name of the hospital and that was that. He ended the call and quickly rushed into the closest car he could get to (Ubbe always muttered that he had too many cars), broke a couple of speed limits, and made it into the hospital.

It was a complete pain in the goddamn ass to get the workers to let him see his son, but eventually, he was escorted to a little hallway with shitty little plastic waiting chairs. Aslaug was not there at that moment. She went back to bring things for her boy when (if) he woke up. Ubbe was there, ever the responsible one, pacing back and forth, worry creased into his forehead, He always had that expression on, ever the worrier. He looked somewhat relieved when he saw Ragnar. Sigurd, to Ragnar’s surprise, was sitting on one of the chairs and crossed his arms. There was a look of worry on his pale face, and every now and then, he would look back at the sterile little room that housed his little brother. He didn’t bother to greet Ragnar. They didn’t have the best relationship (Ragnar’s fault, obviously) and Sigurd was a headstrong bastard, so there was little Ragnar could do to mend their relationship if Sigurd didn’t care to do so. Hvitserk was also sitting beside Sigurd and his face looked paralyzed in shock, fear, and worry. It had been a bit since Ragnar had seen Hvitserk in person, as his son seemed to inherit that addictive personality that Ragnar and his mother unfortunately had. He too fell into the vice of alcohol and drugs. A younger Ragnar probably would’ve blamed Hvitserk’s addictions on his lack of self-control and poor wisdom, but an older, somewhat wiser Ragnar, could sympathize with him. After all, he knew damn well that he had a part in Hvitserk’s benders. 

Hvitserk would party a lot and he was an elusive little bastard too, so he couldn’t be found unless he wanted to be found. Somehow, someway, Ivar managed to get his older brother out of hiding and force him into rehab. He was doing well for a bit, until now it seemed. 

Ragnar learned that Hvitserk was high as a kite when he was driving. Weed. He was supposed to pick up Ivar from school and bring him home.

And then this happened. 

Ragnar looked at Hvitserk, at his sunken eyes, at his too-pale skin, at his greasy long hair, and wanted to scream at him for being such a stupid, stupid fool- What the fuck made him relapse like this? 

He didn’t though. He didn’t scream at him. The horrified look on his face was enough for Ragnar to know that Hvitserk was already being punished enough by his own guilt. Ragnar could sympathize. He was a man who needed a good push to change, and for Ragnar, his push was the horrified expressions on Ubbe and Hvitserk’s faces when he tried to strangle his dealer for not giving him what he wanted. No, what he needed at that time. The girl, Yidu, quickly fled the scene and he was glad that she did. He would’ve killed her otherwise. 

Perhaps Hvitserk’s push would be this. 

Or maybe he would fall apart even further. 

Time can only tell. 

He sighed and sat next to Hvitserk, rubbing his face in his hands. Hvitserk didn’t even acknowledge him. His whole being seemed encased with ice, as he cradled his broken arm in his sling. Ragnar gently wrapped his arm around Hvitserk and Hvitserk all but sunk into his side. 

A few moments later the doctor quietly said that they could see him, but only one at a time. Ubbe went first, then Sigurd, and then Ragnar. Hvitserk didn’t move an inch. Too guilty for his part in this mess. 

Ivar’s life will never be one without complications. His youngest son was always going to have to live his life with some sort of complication. That was stamped on his head the second he was born with osteogenesis imperfecta, otherwise known as brittle bone disease. Now, Ivar was lucky in the sense that his OI wasn’t as severe as other cases, but it seemed to have taken a personal vendetta on his legs, as that was the part of him that was the most severely affected. Thanks to modern medicine and technology and whatnot, his legs are not as wasted as they could’ve been, but the breaks he suffered from them rendered him unable to walk without assistance. 

As he walked into the room, he felt as if he was dumped with a bucket of ice water. His little boy looked so small to him in that bed, in that familiar hospital gown, with all those wires and bandages attached to him. His face was covered with a breathing mask and Ragnar would think he was dead if it weren’t for the soft beeping of the machines singing in the background and the one stereotypical screen of a green line zig-zagging up and down. 

Ragnar felt overwhelmed with the same feeling that he had a million times over whenever Ivar had to go to the hospital. It never got better. He has been to hospitals so many times that he was honestly qualified enough to be a technician since he knew the machines so well. It never got any better and this time, it was worse, since this was the first time where the doctor was not entirely sure that his little boy will be ok. 

He stayed for a while and left the hospital later when the sun became occulted by night. 

He woke up the next day and went to go to the hospital but then did a detour to the old cemetery. 

It wasn’t the first time he lost a child. He knows that Ivar isn’t dead, but he knew if he would be, it would be a similar feeling to how he felt all those years ago when he lost his sweet little girl, Gyda, and how he wasn’t able to say goodbye to her because he was out chasing his two-faced dreams and making his two-faced name. That broke him the most. That he wasn’t able to say goodbye to her. If Ivar was to go, at least he would be able to cope. It wouldn’t be his first rodeo, after all. 

Sometimes, he thought about Gyda, about who she would be if she was given the chance to grow up. He sometimes had little dreams of a grown-up Gyda, who looked suspiciously like Lagertha except for dark hair and silver eyes, making him proud. In some dreams, she would jump into his arms with a diploma clutched in slender hands. In other dreams, she would proudly show off her successes in the fashion industry, as that was something he remembered his little girl obsessing over before she died. He tried to spoil her as much as he can back then, a father’s duty to his daughter, with whatever it is she wanted and that he could afford. If only he could spoil her now, with this multi-million (almost billion) dollar empire that he was able to procure with his blood, sweat, tears, and luck. A whole lot of luck. 

What would Gyda think of her old man today, now that was the question. How would she feel knowing that the father that she knew, the doting father who was always a rock in a raging ocean, ever so stalwart, was not that same father for his other kids? Gyda and Bjorn were lucky in that regard. They knew their father before he became obsessed with material life. They knew the best version of their father. And he was still that father in the first few years of Ubbe and Hvitserk’s lives, but soon afterward, he became distant and aloof. He couldn’t lie to himself. He was a bad father to his four other children. He had his moments of course, but most of the time, he was just a filthy, junky mess, and whatever relationship he could’ve had with his sons were either nipped at the bud or so fragile that eggshells would seem like titanium. 

Gyda would hate him, probably. He hated himself. He would probably continue hating himself till the end of times. For what he robbed of these poor boys, for how he left them to the wolves. If forgiveness would ever come from his sons, and Ragnar doubted it ever could, he would be able to die in the peace he never deserved. 

He sighed. He kneeled and wiped away the leaves that occulted the name on the flat marker.

Gyda Lothbrok. 

Ragnar felt guilt pierce through his heart when he saw the state of the thing. God, how long has it been since he has last been here? Or Lagertha? The stone was stained a sickly green, and some of the letters were discolored. As Ragnar looked at the marker, he thought about the more grandiose headstones that littered the cemetery. He then looked at this flat one, so unassuming and insignificant that he had to card through leaves for an entire two minutes before he could find the thing. She should’ve had a larger stone. One with an angel on it. She was an angel. 

However, it felt sordid to think about digging her back up to give her a better stone at a better plot. 

To make himself feel better, he would simply describe the headstone as humble. Yes, that. Humble. Gyda was a humble girl. 

Ivar will get the angel, then, if he doesn’t make it. He’d probably like that, considering his recent adventures in the gothic macabre. 

“Hello, Gyda…” 

His voice felt strange to him. As if it didn’t belong to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited for a while.” 

I’m sorry that I am only visiting because of the guilt I feel for my other sons. I am sorry that I am only visiting because I am not sure if my youngest, if my baby will survive. If he doesn’t, be kind to him, yes? He’s a stubborn boy. 

He didn’t say that out loud. 

The ravens kept cackling. The leaves kept stirring. Ragnar stayed there for a long time, speaking to this grave in cold Autumn before going back to the sterile haven of the hospital. 

#vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ragnar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #modern ragnar lothbrok #modern ivar #modern hvitserk #modern ubbe #modern sigurd

[thepaperpanda]

The Christmas market || Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

Masterlist ❄

Summary: As a result of many pleas from you, Ivar agrees to go to a Christmas market with you in order to find the perfect gifts for his family.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1609

Authors: Rouge & Cass

A/N: today’s prompt: a visit to a Christmas market

Despite Ivar's whining and nagging, you dragged him through the crowd. 

Although he disliked crowds, especially at the christmas market, you both made it a goal to find something pretty for the party since his mother invited you over for dinner. "Y/N! We have been here for an hour already. We visited every stall, but nothing seemed good enough for you. Can we go home now?" Ivar grunted impatiently.

"Of course we can't yet," you said, squeezing his palm in your hand. "I told you I wouldn't go to your parents' house without a few gifts for them, didn't I? Is it so difficult for you to be as happy and excited about it as I am?"

He rolled his eyes, commenting, "Why waste money on gifts that will sit around, collecting dust? Why don't you bake cookies, pack them nicely, and give those as gifts to them?"

"Don't worry, I'll do that as well, my grandmother gave me an amazing old recipe for gingerbreads, I'll decorate them with two types of frosting," you said to Ivar after stopping at another stall. You discovered a lovely wooden box with floral ornaments there. "Hey, check it out. What do you think, love? Could it be a nice jewelry box for your mother?"

"I bet she didn't fill the one father gave her years ago," Ivar shrugged, looking at other stuff in the stall.

As you adjusted your woolen hat on your head, a deep sigh escaped your lips. "Helpful as always, aren't you, babe?" You chose a lovely wooden lighter for Ivar's father because you knew Ragnar was a smoker.

"It's really overpriced. Do you really expect me to be happy when we throw away money?" Ivar sighed, shaking his head.

"Ivar," you said, "it doesn't matter how much those things cost. What truly matters is the need in my heart to gift people the Christmas spirit and happiness, even if it's with small things."

"I don't think your wallet feels the Christmas spirit," Ivar commented. "Christmas is about family, not gifts, isn't it?"

Ivar was getting on your nerves again that day, so you only grunted. First, he objected to leaving your shared flat because it was snowing and he had a FIFA session to finish with his mates. Later, after he agreed to accompany you on your shopping trip, he mentioned being bored and hungry.

It wasn't that Ivar hated Christmas; instead, he didn't understand the point of spending all that money on trinkets that would only be used once.

"What do you suggest then?" You asked, resting your hands on your hips.

"I think a gift made by hand means more," Ivar told you. "But if you really need something for my mom, get her jewelry."

You were playing with the wooden box you held in your hands while thinking about Ivar's words. You returned the box to the seller with a nod, saying that all you wanted was the hand-carved lighter. "In this case, we'll need to go to another store, babe."

Ivar nodded his head after letting out a deep sigh. "If you promise me a hot chocolate, I am willing to go."

"We need to stop by Starbucks then," you tapped his nose, a sly grin spreading across your lips as you did.

"Okay, cool, but lead the way before I change my mind and head home," Ivar joked.

You reached for his palm and intertwined your fingers with his, delighted to discover that even though he was wearing his favorite black gloves, his hands were so warm.

A gentle kiss was placed on your fingers as he lifted your hand and brought it to his lips. "Your hand is so cold that my tongue would get stuck if I licked it," Ivar stated out of the blue.

You blinked as you listened to his words and grimaced to show him how embarrassed you were by his statement. "You're impossible, Ivar."

"C'mon, I know you love it when I tease you like this," Ivar teased, kissing your cheek.

You went straight to Starbucks, as you promised, and ordered hot chocolate for Ivar and a spicy pumpkin latte for yourself.

As long as Ivar had his favorite drink in hand, he was more likely to follow you without whining.

You asked him to accompany you to a jewelry store, where you chose a pair of silver earrings with a reindeer theme.

In this case, Ivar was much more eager to assist you in picking up a gift for Aslaug. It was picking gifts for his brothers that worried him most; according to him, none of them deserved anything.

"So, do you have any ideas for gifts for your brothers?" You inquired as the two of you strolled down the Strøget.

"Hard to say. None of them deserve gifts," Ivar muttered while looking around. “How about socks?”

"Socks? Are you serious, sweetheart? This is the most ridiculous gift idea," you lightly tapped his shoulder.

"Oh don't be silly, love. It's a perfect gift for those assholes," Ivar said, rolling his eyes. "Let me see! Hvitserk can get weed or brownies... Or both, actually. He has a sweet tooth, as we all know. Ubbe can get a pen. Sigurd might benefit from a lame book about music history. Bjørn? We can get him a year's supply of condoms."

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a laugh and stopped walking, considering everything he said. "Ivar! You're so cruel! It's a good idea to get Ubbe a nice pen. A book about music for Sigurd is not a bad idea either. I'm only concerned about condoms for Bjørn and weed for Hvitserk. Oh, and I still need to find the perfect gift for my baby boy," you enhanced his hat to cover his ears.

Ivar smiled and moved closer before whispering into your ear, "You will shed those clothes, wrap yourself in a nice lacy set, and it will be the best gift I have ever received."

You closed your eyes and smirked, feeling your cheeks flushed. "Ivar, babe, if you behave like a good boy you are deep inside," you poked the left side of his chest, "I'll think about that," you kissed his lips briefly after climbing on your tiptoes.

"I deserve such a gift," Ivar chuckled, booping your nose. "I've been a good boy this year." A slight frown appeared on his face before he improved your thick scarf. "We should get this done as soon as possible. You are cold and I don't want you to get sick again."

"Come on, I'm not the one to get a cold after a cold like you," you pretended to be offended by his words.

"Keep thinking like that, little one, live your sweet, little dream," he patted your head. "Now. Let's go home, I'll take care of those gifts. Bjørn is still getting condoms though."

You helplessly rolled your eyes and shook your head after hearing his comment. "Ivar?" You looked up at him and intertwined your fingers with his.

Squeezing your hand while hiding it in his pocket, he only hummed, looking down at you.

"Can you visit one more place with me? I promise it'll be the last one."

He nodded but tapped his cheek, giving you a look.

After a brief eyeroll you climbed on your tiptoes again and kissed his cheek, inhaling the cologne he used which you gifted him with on his birthday.

A giggle escaped his lips and he nodded. "Let's go now. Lead the way."

You led Ivar to one more stall while holding his hand.

After following you, Ivar inspected the stall. "What is the purpose of our visit here?"

"You like wolves, right?"

"Yeah, I do," he replied simply.

"I saw them last week, when I came here to check out the Christmas market for the first time," you told him, taking a wooden bracelet in your hand. It had a charm shaped in a wolf howling to the moon, and the moon was cut in a half. "I thought we could get ourselves matching bracelets..."

A quick kiss was exchanged between Ivar and you as he grabbed your chin. "I think I have a really clever and cute girlfriend. I really like this idea."

He kissed you quickly, but it was sweet enough to melt your heart. You discovered the tiny metal clasp and opened it, asking Ivar to extend his hand to you. You put the bracelet on his wrist and locked the clasp as soon as he did. "There. Oh, it's perfect for you!"

He placed another bracelet around your wrist before moving your hand to his lips to kiss its top. "Let's do it this way: I can pay for yours and you can pay for mine, so we have perfect gifts for each other."

You nodded eagerly enough for your hat to fall off your head. "Oh, hell, silly me," you laughed.

A soft chuckle escaped Ivar's lips as he improved your hat and kissed your nose. "You may think you're too silly, but I love that about you."

You paid for his bracelet, and as he did the same, you snatched him under your arm and rolled down the Christmas market with him, inhaling the scent of gingerbreads spreading all over the place, hot tea with honey and ginger, and spicy coffee in various types. You glanced at Ivar's face briefly as the two of you walked together, trying not to draw his attention to this fact. Your heart overflowed with affection for this young man, who was perfect on the inside and out. You'd never been happier in your life.

#ivar the boneless #Ivar x reader #ivar x you #Ivar the Boneless #Ivar the Boneless fluff #modern!Ivar #Ivar fluff #Ivar the Boneless x reader fluff #Ivar the Boneless fic #ivar lothbrok #Ivar's heathen army #Ivar Ragnarsson #vikings #vikings x reader #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #vikings fluff #ivar the boneless fanfic #paperpanda winter writing event #writers on tumblr