#so he's gonna spend his whole life grieving with his sword at rest

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Headcannon: Shieldmaiden friend with his brothers

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: “I was hoping I could request a headcanon of Ivar being nervous around a new shieldmaiden that is friends with his brothers? He finds her attractive, but that makes him nervous bc of his legs and what ppl have said all his life.”

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: My horrible attempts at whatever the fuck this ended up being, nothing else I can think of.

A/N: So yeah, I made a thing. Am I happy with the thing? Nope. Am I proud of the thing? Nopity nope. Am I gonna post it anyways and hope you guys don’t hate it? Yep.

But yeah, first time writing headcanons, first time diving head first into season 4 Ivar. I sincerely hope you like it, and idk, would love to hear your thoughts, good or bad, on this one. Thank you!

Taglist: @1950schick​​

·         You were one of the shieldmaidens to accompany Björn to the Mediterranean, and you grew close to both him and Hvitserk on the journey.

·         You joined the Great Heathen Army alongside your brother, and everyone was surprised to see Björn sprint towards you as soon as he saw your ship, lifting you off the ground in a tight embrace.

·         Although Sigurd isn’t too thrilled or interested in you, both Ubbe and Ivar are immediately drawn to you.

·         The former, because there’s rumors about how you once bested Björn when sparring with those curved swords.

·         The latter, for completely different reasons. Though, you being a great warrior does help.

·         With you being close to his brothers Ivar finds himself knowing more and more about you with every passing day, and in the midst of the war to avenge his father, with his heart heavy with pain and loss, he finds you, with your easy smiles and your friendly nature, a welcome distraction.

·         That’s what he calls it, at first. When he spends each chance he has watching you from afar, witnessing your interactions with the group of shieldmaidens you call sisters in arms; when he finds himself thinking of you late at night and early in the morning; when he realizes he misses you when you’re gone, even though he tells himself he has nothing to miss.

·         The realization that he actually feels something for you dawns on him when he sees some Dane warrior dancing with you on a feast after Aelle is conquered, and the urge to stake his claim, to go there and interrupt whatever it is that is happening before his eyes, fills him, makes an impulsive hand reach for the axe at his side.

·         Ivar is…well, Ivar, so there’s no way he’d willingly let you -or anyone else, for that matter- know that he’s interested in you.

·         Which he is. Very much so. Because, much to his growing frustration -in more ways than one- he can’t get you out of his head.

·         Still, that doesn’t mean he’d willingly disclose it. He isn’t subtle, though.

·         But people notice. His brothers notice.

·         Björn isn’t thrilled with it, but considering Aslaug isn’t alive to bend to Ivar’s will and have some poor girl forced into marriage with the youngest son of Ragnar, he isn’t too concerned. If something happens, it is because you choose it so, and that’s enough for him.

·         Ubbe bristles up. He knows bits and pieces of what happened with Margrethe, but he has been witness too many times of how Sigurd uses what happened with her against Ivar- something he swears one day will end in tragedy, thankfully nothing too difficult to contain or heal so far-; and he still feels responsible about setting up the whole thing. The last thing he wants is for it to happen again, with someone that is quickly becoming a close friend of him and his brothers.

·         And of course, Sigurd notices, and is cruelly delighted in it. He does try a couple of times teasing Ivar about it when you’re near, but you never stood for those kinds of games, so he was eventually discouraged from continuing.

·         Doesn’t stop him from privately tormenting Ivar about it. It is his duty as older brother after all, and since Ubbe is too busy mothering Ivar, and Hvitserk too busy trying to fuck his way through England, it falls unto him. He may go too far once or twice, but their relationship has always been that way.

·         Sigurd’s teasing only manages to put Ivar more and more on edge about these stupid -pathetic, useless, soft- feelings, and the few times you try getting close to him, he usually snaps at you or reacts badly.

·         Because you are very interested, even if you are much better at hiding it. Ivar proves to be incredibly smart, and with the march of the Great Heathen Army being the first time you’ve travelled this far from home, fought in so many important battles, you find yourself fascinated by him and the way he seems to understand what goes beyond fighting, what becomes war.

·         But, when you are try getting close to him with subtle flirting or soft touches, Ivar thinks you are pitying him or mocking him, and when you are more direct and try finding common ground to get to know each other, he thinks you’re pushing him away.

·         It confuses you, and frankly, it confuses him too.

·         It confuses everyone that has become an unwilling spectator to all of this.

·         Ivar does try his best at being nice to you, it just manages to backfire most of the time.

·         You could be sharing a meal with him and his brothers, and he’d try complimenting you, saying something about how you have proven to be a fine shieldmaiden. But feeling too many eyes on him, feeling like he left himself open for ridicule or rejection, he’d add something else, like how you are obviously aided by the fact you use weapons not familiar to Vikings.

·         He’d fuck most things up, is what I mean.

·         And he’d know -and you’d make it very much clear- that he has upset you, or made you angry.

·         He would try apologizing, but it is Ivar, so “I’m sorry” won’t leave his lips unless someone pries it off him, so, he’d try…alternative approaches.

·         First, gifts. Women like those, right? He’d try buying the prettiest, most expensive thing he can find, and leaving it for you to find. Or, if he is in a particularly good day -if he managed to get one up on Sigurd, maybe, that’d be a good day- he’d give it to you in person.

·         Throwing expensive things at you wouldn’t exactly work, making you feel inadequate and cheap. He notices, so he’d try something else.

·         He wants you closer, so he makes it so that you always sit with him and his brothers at the table where the leaders of the army dine.

·         Before long many men -including Harald, to whom Ivar notices you giving easier smiles than the rest, much to his horror- manage to sleaze their way to the chair at your other side, chatting with you during the nights, making you smile and laugh.

·         When word of how one of them tried talking your brother into a marriage arrangement reaches Ivar, he pulls back on his idea of having you sit with him.

·         To you, it just looks like a rejection, and Ivar notices you grow colder, more distant.

·         With the threat of how desired you have proven yourself to be, a beautiful woman and a fierce shieldmaiden, hanging over his head, Ivar grows more and more restless, and resolute he has to prove to you he can offer you much more than any of these men can.

·         He tries everything he can think of. Make it so that you are there when he beats his brothers in target practice, boast about how his strategy was what won them many a battle against the Saxons, repeat the tales about how he and his brothers are descended from the Gods themselves.

·         When Ivar makes the contraptions for his legs, he goes to find you with -barely contained, he shouldn’t even bother trying to hide it really- enthusiasm, trying to show off in front of you.

·         He ties a lot of his self-worth into how people perceive him, into how much of a ‘normal man’ he can pass off as, and as we know he stands a lot prouder and a lot more confident once he gains more control of the Great Army and manages to make those things.

·         When you see him, though, even though he is preening and standing tall, chin high and shoulders squared; all you do is look at the contraptions around his legs and back into his eyes.

·         “You’re a better fighter without those.” You’d say, and nothing else.

·         Ivar would sulk. There’s no way to impress you, nothing he can do to make you look at him with that mischievous streak you share with Hvitserk, or that companiable closeness you have with Björn.

·         Anger would quickly enough win over any impulse to sulk and feel sorry for himself, though.

·         He’d eventually grow colder, crueler, towards you. He’d feel like you rejected him, and being angry towards you -and in return making you be angry towards him- gives him someone to blame, gives him some way of letting the pain have form, have a target for all the mess of emotions it leaves inside him.

·         When Björn starts making plans to return to the Mediterranean, he fully expects to see you depart following his brother and never seeing you again.

·         He hates himself for grieving the loss of you, someone he never had, someone that -as far as he knows- never cared about him anyways.

·         But he does. The day when Björn and those who choose to come with him will depart East approaches, and Ivar is more on edge than ever.

·         Restless, angry, and with no one to blame but himself. But, of course, he won’t do that, no.

·         He taunts you, makes jabs at you and how you run after Björn like an enamored thrall, points out you choose to sail a ship like a coward instead of staying here -staying with him- and fighting the Saxons.

·         When you snap back, voice loud and eyes furious, that you were never planning on sailing back with Björn, you manage for once to stun Ivar into silence.

·         You don’t even give him time to hold on to cruelty, to the pain and anger he uses as both a weapon and a shield. You stand up from the table and leave the hall.

·         Hvitserk doesn’t lift his head from his food, but still grumbles that he should go after her. At Ivar’s affronted frown, Ubbe insists that he should, offering his little brother a sly smile and something about going to find his woman.

·         Ivar would deny to his very grave and beyond it that his ears turned red at the implication behind Ubbe’s words.

·         But he did, trying to dispel thoughts that told him how he was running after you like a lovesick puppy.

·         When he finds you, you are still angry, because of course you are. And your anger is to Ivar like an electric shock over an exposed nerve, drawing out all the vitriol and fury and explosiveness.

·         Before long he has managed to make you angrier than he has ever seen you, and your voices rise with your tempers.

·         A second time you manage to stun Ivar into silence comes shortly after the argument between the two erupts.

·         He doesn’t even remember what he was about to say, only that with a few words about how you chose to stay with the Great Army for him makes all the thoughts on his head disappear.

·         Before he can twist himself into knots about it, thinking how it must surely be a lie, how you are playing some cruel trick on him; you lean in and kiss him.

·         Ivar doesn’t know how to react, not at first. The only woman he has kissed before was a slave his brother instructed to sleep with him, and he refuses to think of that night, of that woman.

·         He stays frozen under your touch, until you pull back, and smile.

·         He realizes when lack of air makes your kiss end that in your eyes you don’t have that glint of playfulness you share with Hvitserk, or that comfortable understanding you have with Björn; but something more tender, more real, and definitely hungrier.

____

So yeah, that’s that. I have never written headcanons before, and I struggle a lot with season 4 Ivar (who am I kidding, I struggle with writing Ivar in general) even tho he is my favorite Ivar. Idk, I gave it my best, hopefully I can learn from this and get better at it lol

Thank you so much for reading, lovelies!! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

[starvonnie]

By The Light Of The Fireworks

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Major Character Death Fandoms: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types Relationship: Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime Characters: Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Drift | Deadlock, Megatron Additional Tags: Grief/Mourning, Fireworks, Flashbacks

Also on AO3

He should be celebrating. All of Cybertron was celebrating. And there were places he'd be... well, perhaps not welcomed, but at the very least he would be understood.

No. No one would understand. Of all the millions of Cybertronians cheering for the end of an era, he was alone. Mourning what was the beginning of his own era. Their era. Ending before it could even begin.

Rodimus hugged his knees to his chest. His room was dark, but every so often a firework would light up his frame in shimmering colour. If he weren't so tired, and if he felt like he deserved the comfort the darkness brought, he would have drawn the blinds. But he needed the reminder that he should be happy. That this was a good thing. That, less than a decade ago, he would have been out there celebrating with the masses.

What had changed was a matter of spark.

And that spark felt tight. Confined. And yet, incomplete. Empty. The initial pain had long since faded, but Rodimus found the ache worse. Because it lingered.

"Do not grieve for me, Rodimus," Megatron whispered. He'd been whispering all day since Rodimus had been holding him close since they'd awoken. "You have so much more life to live."

"How am I not supposed to grieve?" Rodimus said through tears. He was amazed he still had any left to shed.

Megatron gave no response. He just hugged him tighter.

“Let’s just leave,” Rodimus said.  “We’ll steal a ship and—”

“No.”  Megatron cupped his wet cheek.  “Rodimus… my love… I can’t just let you become an accomplice.  If we’re caught—”

“At least we’d get to be together, still.”

“I doubt you’d be executed.  They’d likely just lock you up.  And I can’t have you spending the rest of your life behind bars just for more time with me.  I’m sorry, Rodimus.  I’m so sorry. But we knew this was coming.”

Rodimus sobbed.  

Megatron did his best to curl around his Prime, though not his for much longer.  Everything was slipping through his fingers.  His spark still beat, but it felt the touch of death.  Counting down the beats.  The bite Rodimus’ love had given him was losing its hold.

“I do need to ask a selfish request of you.”

“Anything.”

Megatron touched his helm to Rodimus’.  "Will you remember me, Rodimus? The way I am now?"

Rodimus nodded fervently. "I don't have a choice."

“I almost wish you would.”

Rodimus shook his helm.  “You freed Cybertron.”

Megatron sighed.  “Sometimes I wish you had been there, fighting at my side.  You wouldn’t have let me tread down this path.  You would have knocked some sense into me, or at the very least left and made me realize how far I had strayed from my ideals.”

Rodimus kissed him, tasting his own tears on his lips. He pressed himself as close as he could without merging.  And his spark yearned for it.  He wanted to know Megatron.  Know him.  He’d always wanted to.  He’d begged and pleaded and reasoned with him, but every time he shut the idea down.  His reasoning would come to pass that evening.  He wouldn’t feel him die.  Not really.

Not how he wanted to.

"Rodimus?"

Rodimus didn’t acknowledge him, but he felt the sympathy in his field as Drift approached.

"Here."

Rodimus spared a glance at the drink Drift offered him. Fizzy, bright magenta, and sure to be way too sweet. Exactly how Rodimus liked it.

"No."

"Please Roddy? It's from a celebration of life for him. Some people were even asking about you. I know you said you didn't want to go, but I think it would be good if..."

Drift trailed off as Rodimus hid his face. He could hide the twin streams flowing from his optics, but he couldn't hide his shaking spoiler and shoulders. He cried into his knees and was vaguely aware of Drift rubbing his back.  He didn’t want to seek his comfort because he knew the next time he’d need someone comforting him he’d find an empty berth.  But he fell against him, despite his better judgement, sobbing into his amica’s shoulder.

“Megatron wouldn’t want you to neglect your health.”

“He can’t want anything!  He’s dead!”

Drift didn’t react.  He just soothed him and said that he was here.  

After Rodimus’ current bout of crying ceased, Drift spoke up.  "I remember the way he looked at you. I remember being so frustrated watching you two be so oblivious to the others' feelings. Half the crew was making bets on how long it would be until one of you just confessed."

"And the other half hated me for it."

"Frag them. You love who you love."

"Yep. And who I loved left me alone and miserable. Sounds about right."

“Do you think I’m deserving of love?” Drift asked.

“What kind of question is that?  Of course you are!”

“Then Megatron is, too.”

Rodimus looked away.  “That’s different.”

“How?  We were both ex-Decepticons.”

“You know why.  Because it’s not about whether he deserves it or not, it’s about what everyone else thinks.  And they’ve clearly made their choice!”  Rodimus gestured to the fireworks display.  “So can you just leave me alone so I can be miserable in peace?”

“Nope.  I’m staying right here.”

“Hmph.  Fine.”

After a lengthy silence, Drift said, “You know he asked me for my blessing, right?”

“What?”

Drift chuckled.  “Well, it was more like him asking if I would kill him if he went for you. I told him I made no promises either way, and that in the end it was your decision and that I would support you either way.”

Rodimus tried to smile.  He nearly managed to, imagining a hunched and humble Megatron before Drift, glancing at his swords as he asked for his blessing.  But then he remembered.  The almost-smile wobbled and fell, and more tears came.  It was all he was good for anymore.

“You know no one would judge you for crying, right?”

“I don’t want to go to a party with a bunch of Decepticons!” Rodimus spat.

“Alright, alright…”  Drift pet his spoiler.  “Then we can have our own celebration of life.”

“No.”

“It helps, you know.”

“No, it doesn’t.”  Rodimus pushed him away.  “He’s dead and no amount of stories or praising his accomplishments is going to bring him back!  You have no idea what it’s like to lose your conjunx and watch the world celebrate.”

Drift sighed.  “You’re right.  On both counts.  I will never understand.  But I also know that holing yourself up in your room crying your optics out won’t bring him back, either.  I know what you’re doing.  You’re punishing yourself.  You hate that you loved him and you’re regretting it among all the grief, but it’s okay that you did, Roddy.  It’s okay that you loved him.  But you need to open yourself up to recounting your happy memories with him.  I don’t want you to bottle anything up or fake how you’re feeling, but if you only let yourself feel sorrow, that’s all your life will be.”

“You don’t know anything!” Rodimus screamed.  He gripped Drift’s shoulders hard enough to leave dents.

“It’s okay, Roddy,” Drift whispered, embracing him once more. “It’s okay.”

The real tears came then.  What he had thought to be a torrent before was just a light shower. This was a hurricane of sorrow that messily spilled from his optics as his vents hitched and caught.  His whole frame shook.  He felt out of touch with reality and all that existed was the yawning hole Megatron had left in his spark.

He needed his comfort.  Drift could try, but he would never make him feel as safe. Megatron had been a formidable grey wall that could shield him from the world, and would have been able to fight off any threat.  

He was exposed.  Vulnerable.  Exactly how he had presented himself to Megatron, hoping he would do the same and finally show him his spark.

He’d hesitated.

He’d regretfully refused.

Despite his need to protect him, his spark still burned. All he had done was deprive Rodimus of a piece of himself that he could always carry with him.  He had to rely on his memories, now.  Memories already greying at the edges.

Rodimus fell into his second state of being since the execution.

Numbness.  

He didn’t cry.  Didn’t move.  Didn’t feel.  He just existed.  His only function was to take up space, and even then, he tried to make himself as small as possible.

Drift was there all the while.  In the present, he wished he would just leave him to wallow, but in hindsight he would be glad that he was there with him.  He wanted to show how grateful he was to have him as an amica, but the only feeling his frame would allow besides sorrow, was anger.

“You don’t have to go to one of the parties,” Drift broke the silence, “but I want you to try and share a nice memory or two with me. Do you think you can do that?”

No.

“I’ll try.”  His voice croaked as if he hadn’t spoken in years.

“That’s all I ask.”

Rodimus swallowed a few times, then tested his voicebox a few more times.  He got half-words and finally actual words, but he couldn’t manage to string any of them into a sentence.  Every recollection felt too painful.  Even the recent memories.  Especially the recent memories.  So he went back, back, way back, to the beginning.  Their love had kindled, but it hadn’t yet taken a full hold of him in frame, spark, and processor.  Megatron was special, important… but had his execution date been set then, it would have been a little easier to move on.

“Did I… ever tell you about our rites?” Rodimus asked quietly.

“No.  I honestly wondered about it.”

“That bastard made me do all the work,” Rodimus said. He managed a miniscule smile.  “And he made it nearly impossible for me to even start the ritus.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  We kept going to Swerve’s—his idea, mind you—and sitting in our booth. And since, y’know, he’s not one to just go to Swerve’s, I figured he was finally gonna do the Act of Intimacy.  And then he would hold my hand and my spark would stop, but he’d just keep going on as if it was a normal night.  Because it was, to him.  So, you know me, impatient as ever, I cornered him in our office after hours, straddled him, and told him about, y’know… stuff.”

Drift chuckled.  “I bet you caught him completely off-guard.”

Rodimus managed a little laugh.  “Yeah.  He had his hands up like this.”  He held them up and away from his body as though he were surprised.  He exaggerated his shocked expression, too.  “And he didn’t say a word for like a whole twenty seconds after I finished.”

“What did he say?”

Rodimus laughed.  “He said ‘where’s my gift?’”

“He did not!”

“Well, he was joking.  Mostly.  Only hitch was, y’know, I didn’t actually remember the gift part.”

“Roddy.  There’s four steps and you only have to do three.”

“Hey, I was betting on only having to remember one! By my logic I remembered double what I needed to.”

Drift laughed, shaking his helm.  “Oh, Roddy.”

“I made good on it, though.  Built him a little room on one of the lower decks that was completely shielded and had no cameras.  He got so little privacy, and I just wanted to give him some peace.  Even from me.”  He glanced at Drift.  “I know giving Megatron a room where we couldn’t see what he’s doing wasn’t the greatest idea, but… I trusted him.  I needed him to see that.”

Rodimus’ face fell.

Drift resumed rubbing Rodimus’ back.

“I know he didn’t deserve a second chance,” Rodimus said. “Some days I wish I hadn’t fallen in love with him, but…”  He swallowed around the lump in his throat.  “He made me a better person.”

“You brought out the best in him, too,” Drift said gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that happy.  And the way he looked at you… he looked at you like someone seeing the stars for the first time.”

“Yeah?”  Rodimus attempted a smile, but his lower lip wobbled.  “Do you… think I’ll ever see the stars again?”

Drift’s field embraced Rodimus with love, while he physically held him, too.  Rodimus cried, but quietly.  His tears dripped down Drift’s plating while his shoulders shivered.

“There are an infinite number of galaxies, full of billions upon billions of stars, with millions of planets to see constellations you’ve never even heard of.  So yes, Rodimus.  You will see the stars again.  But it won’t be the same stars you can see from Tarn.”  Drift hugged him tighter when his crying became a little more audible. “And you can always stop there, and look up.  It will be bittersweet, and it’s going to hurt, probably for a long time.  But someday, that sky will be something you can remember fondly.”

Fireworks went off right next to the building.  The joyous celebration drowned out Rodimus’ sobbing while the tears falling from his optics glittered in the rainbow of colours outside the window.  The colours that paid no mind to those grieving.  To those left alone.

To those who lost.  

#megarod #rodimegs #megatron #rodimus #megarod week #mtmte #starvonnie writes #oops i made a sad