#Thora x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thora-jane · 11 months

Text

Poncho (pt. i/?)

Told y’all I’d be back. I really don’t know how long this’ll be, but I started writing it. We’ll see where this takes us.

Summary: years after the Mantis’s crew splits up, you’re still with Greez on Koboh. But when disaster strikes, your quiet life may be disrupted.

Wordcount: 1698

warnings: Cannon-typical violence, light swearing, vague angst, some spoilers for Jedi Survivor

Koboh sunrises never got old. Not to you. Walking along the trail in the morning had become a habit, a ritual. Your day didn’t start until after you had walked the perimeter of the little prospecting town you had spent the past few years at. You never had much to say about Koboh, but you liked the peace it brought. And over the years you had earned the respect of those that called that place home. It was you who circled Rambler’s Reach every morning and took care of any bramlik or gorger problem, or heaven forbid the occasional gorocco or rancor. And when the Bedlam Raiders got a little too close to the edge of town, it was you who took your blaster and quickly taught them to stay away if they knew what was good for them.

What you had going for you was a life. An honest life. A respectable life.

A quiet life. A lonely life.

Someone had to take care of Greez. Keep him out of trouble. That’s what you told yourself at least. You two had been on your own for years. Ever since everyone else had broken off and gone in their own direction, you two stayed side-by-side. And after he lost his arm, you knew you weren’t going to go anywhere without him.

“Hey kid,” He greeted over his shoulder as you made your way down the steps of the saloon, “How’s it lookin’ out there?”

“Not much. Couple of bramliks. But no one hurt. Just a few startled boglins,” you slouched into the stool next to him as he slid over a plate of food, “Weather’s great though.”

“What is it with you and boglins? We stop back at Bogano once and you bring back a whole heard of them.” He rolled his eyes and threw his hands over his head, “Next thing you know I can’t go outside without stepping in boglin droppings. And who’s fault is that?”

You let out a breath just shy of a laugh, “What you don’t think they’re cute?”

“Oh sure! They were cute back on Bogano. But why’d you have to take ‘em with us?” He kept talking, his voice trailing off as he wandered out of earshot.

You chuckled to yourself. Greez didn’t need you half as much as you needed him. You were pretty sure he knew that too, though neither of you ever said it. You did your best not to think about the life you too had lead before you settled in Koboh. The things you left behind. The places you were avoiding.

The people you were hiding from.

Yes, the galaxy needed help. It needed help real bad. But the folks here needed help too. And maybe you were no great jedi, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t help and defend this town.

You finished up the rest of your food and headed down to the quarters to two of you shared. With the morning here and the day beginning, it was time for you to venture out a little further from town.

“-And their fur? Oh don’t get me started! You can’t do anything with it. But those little wispy hairs get everywhere!” Greez began swatting at his mouth with all four hands, pretending to spit. You strode right past him on the steps.

“Yeah but you can’t beat the way they curl up on your lap,” You reasoned, reaching for your wide brimmed hat from the post by your bunk.

“Wait, they do that? They’ve never done that with me! How come they do that with you?” He threw one set of hands in the air while resting the other on his hips.

“Because they like me.” You smirked again, settling your hat atop your head, “I’m heading out.”

“Wherever you’re going, be careful. The-”

“The Bedlam Raiders are acting up again? I know. Why else do you think I’m heading out?” You spun around, walking backwards so you could look at him, lifting up the panel of fabric to reveal an old blaster, “Someone’s gotta keep ‘em in their place.”

“Just don’t get hurt out there, kid.” Greez sighed as you spun back around and took the stairs two at a time.

***

“Heya.” Mosey greeted, “fixin to head out again?”

You didn’t say anything, just nodded, pulling the brim of your hat down a bit more to shield your face. You wandered over to Phenny, the Nekko that had taken a liking to you. You grabbed the quaterstaff you kept in Phenny’s stall and slipped it in the saddle holster in silence You adjusted the saddle before hopping on, patting it’s neck and letting it know to start moving.

“Stay safe out there, Poncho.” Mosey smiled.

“Thanks,” You mumbled before Phenny took off.

Poncho. It was true that you didn’t care much for talking to anyone in the last few years. But for the people of Rambler’s Reach, that suited them just fine. You didn’t want to share your name? Fair enough. You’ll just have to learn to respond to their new name for you. The whole town wasn’t going to call you kid. That was reserved for Greez alone. Instead, they went for much lower hanging fruit. Poncho. Not the most creative nickname, but there wasn’t anyone else in town dressed like you, so everyone knew who was being referred to. ‘Cause who else wore the same poncho every damn day?

Which you probably wouldn’t have minded if the poncho had actually been yours.

You hunched down, motioning for Phenny to run faster along Koboh’s rocky ridges.

Breathe, you thought to yourself, just breathe. It was what you reminded yourself every time you felt trouble creeping inside your mind. But today felt particularly challenging. You didn’t know why, but something about the air just felt…off.

You and Phenny traveled up along the cliffside, slowly approaching where the tar pits began to flow. If this had been a mission like you had done in years past, you would have been here as fast as possible. But life on Koboh was smaller than the galaxy. The raiders were rising more each day, but life moved a little slower. And when it came to stopping them, it was better to take your time than rush.

You hopped off your Nekko and tied him up to the nearby tree, safely hidden in the shrubbery. From your point along the ridge you could see scattered clusters of the raiders and their droids below. Nothing you couldn’t handle from a distance, though.

Breathe you repeated to yourself as you got down on your belly in the dirt and crawled up the the edge of the cliff, slowly pulling out your blaster and closing your eyes.

“Let go of the tension and fear your mind holds. Let go of your surroundings, free your mind and allow each blast to be guided towards the target,” You couldn’t go a round of Raider Pushback without repeating what Cere had told you when you first learned how to use a blaster. And ever since then, your aim had been near perfect. Not that you had ever bragged, swearing instead that it had been the blaster you used, not your own doing.

After a moment, you opened your eyes. The smell of blaster smoke filled your nostrils, and out across the cliff you could see the remnants of clankers and commando droids. Quickly getting to your feet and grabbing your staff from your side, you began your next phase of pushback.

You called it deflection practice. Greez called it stupid. The raiders didn’t call it anything. How could they? They never had a chance to.

Holding your staff in both your hands, poised and ready for whatever blasts were shot your way. You watched as the three raiders scrambled to draw your blasters.

Let go of the tension and fear your mind holds

*ping* A blast hit your pole as you shifted your grip, feeling the vibrations in your palm as you ricocheted the blast back towards the shooter, landing it as he dropped dead.

Free your mind. Allow each blat to be guided toward your target

*ping* The next blast ricocheted and hit its shooter

You’re one of the greatest shots I know, (y/n). The force will always be with you wherever you go.

You let your mind wander too far, out to where it shouldn’t have gone. His voice echoed in your head. Before you could regain your grip, you heard the blast whiz past your staff and scorch the poncho you had on. You felt yourself drop and roll to the ground, reaching for your blaster and shooting the raider square in the head before they had another chance to fire.

That was all you could do for today. Any more and there could be grounds for an ambush on the outpost. You rolled over onto your back, removing your hat and looking up at the sky. It had been forever since you let your memories get the best of you like that. His voice felt louder than it had been in the past, it was like you could feel him close to you again. And you had let it get the better of you. Which was stupid, because you got shot. And if you weren’t careful you’d get shot again. And next time you might not be so lucky.

Phenny stirred over in the brush, pulling you away from your self-reprimands. As you sat up, something in the sky caught your eye. You quickly put your hat back on and squinted up towards the clouds, just in time to see an all-too-familiar ship come flying down and landing on the other side of the tar pits.

“You gotta be shitting me.” You mumbled to yourself, scrambling to untie Phenny and ride back to Rambler’s Reach at break-neck speed.

You hated to say it, but it had to have been the Mantis. And given the shape it was in, it must’ve been in need of repairs. Which meant only one thing.

If you dodn’t hide fast enough, you were about to see Cal Kestis for the first time in years.

(a/n) and that’s all we have for now! I’ll try to write more as often as I can. But make sure you drink some water, eat a snack or something, and maybe get up and stretch if you can. Thanks for reading! Love yas<3

#thora's late night thoughts #thora’s trying her best #<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #jedi survivor #jedi fallen order

71 notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 9 months

Text

All These Years [Part 18: "A Series of Firsts"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut [Comfort now exists in this series!!]

Word Count: 4k

a/n: This is a SWEET installment!!! I have tortured y'all enough and I now present to you lovely readers a very enjoyable ATY Matty. From here on out comfort should outweigh the slight bit of angst that lingers in this series. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks @mattmurdocksstarlight @yeonalie @will-delete-this-later-probably @darekened-writer [some of you might need to check your settings to be tagged!]

It felt strange walking the streets that somehow felt both familiar but not as the snow fell down in a flurry of white, fluffy flakes around you. A strong, bitter gust of wind blew past you down the sidewalk as you made your way and you pulled your coat a bit tighter around yourself, tucking your chin into the scarf you were wearing as a chill ran down your spine.

LA had certainly made you forget just how cold the New York winters really could be.

Your flight to New York had gotten in around three this afternoon and you’d spent your time once you'd left the airport checking into the hotel that you were staying at in Hell’s Kitchen. You’d taken a brief nap in your room, tired from the long flight, before grabbing something quick for dinner. Now you were on your way to meet Foggy, Karen, and Matt at Josie’s for drinks tonight since they’d finally finished work.

Your stomach was churning and rolling with nervous excitement the closer you got to the bar, and when the neon sign finally came into view, you wondered if Matt was inside already. You wondered if he’d picked up on your heartbeat outside a while ago; he’d once told you that he could hear familiar heartbeats from a significant distance, singling them out. That thought had yours beating a little erratically on your walk.

You were incredibly nervous to see Matt tonight. Because tonight would be the first time you’d ever been around him after having learned the truth that he returned the feelings you had for him. You didn’t know what to expect or how you should even act around him this evening. Did you flirt or just act like your usual self? The fact that the pair of you would have an audience with Karen and Foggy didn’t help with the situation either–or your nerves.

Your boots crunched over the salt on the sidewalk as you finally came upon the entrance to Josie’s. Pulling your hand out of the warmth of your coat pocket, you reached out and opened the door. The heat and noise of the bar instantly hit you as you stepped inside, a smile slipping onto your lips at the sight of Josie waving at you behind the counter. Removing the hat from your head, you managed a brief wave in return before a chorus of excited shouts drew your attention immediately to your right.

All three of your friends were crowded around their usual table in varying disheveled states of their work attire. They were cheering and smiling, beers raised in their hands towards you as you stood there in surprise, your eyes taking in the sight of them. Though inevitably your gaze landed on Matt sitting at the table and you quickly noticed the empty seat beside him.

For a moment all you could do was stand there and stare at Matt, your feet rooted to the sticky bar floor as your hands nervously twisted the knitted winter hat in them. Your eyes lingered on him as he set his beer on the table, gradually rising to his feet with a vibrant smile on his face, his covered gaze very clearly focused solely on you. Heat crept up your neck under the weight of his intense focus, another sudden rush of nerves filling you.

He looked good, somehow even better in the months since you'd last seen him. The slight pull of the buttons on his dress shirt certainly wasn't helping your racing pulse, either. Neither was the sight of his exposed muscular forearms with the way his shirt sleeves were often rolled up, or the way his dress pants clung just right as he stood to his feet.

How in the hell were you supposed to make it through the night without passing out? This was Matthew Murdock, the best friend you'd been in love with for years . He was absolutely beautiful. You were certain one teasing, flirtatious comment out of those beautiful lips of his directed at you would have you on the floor.

Sucking in a deep breath, you nervously headed over to their table on trembling legs. All three of them had risen from their chairs and were making their way over to greet you, but Foggy had practically catapulted around the table. He nearly slammed into you with a bear hug, crushing you as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You laughed as you hugged him back.

"Goddamn eight months is a long time," Foggy complained when he finally released you. "You cannot go that long without seeing me again!"

"Yeah," you agreed. "It definitely was a long time, Fog. I missed being back here."

Karen bumped her hip into Foggy, pushing him out of the way so she could draw you in for a hug next. You quickly returned it, more nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach as she shot you a knowing look when she pulled away.

"Missed seeing you in Josie’s," she told you. "It always felt weird without you here."

The moment Karen stepped back, your focus shifted to Matt just to your left. He almost looked nervous as he approached you, your heart flying up into your throat. He said your name softly, the smile never leaving his lips as he gradually closed the space between the pair of you.

His arms carefully encircled your shoulders, almost as if he wasn't sure of how he should act, either. Chewing the inside of your cheek, your own arms timidly slipped their way around Matt's waist, your hands cautiously landing on his back. You felt Matt's mouth beside your ear and a shiver ran down your spine.

"I missed this," he whispered.

Your eyes instantly closed at his words, arms tightening around him at the sound of his voice. In turn, Matt's own arms held you a bit more firmly to the front of himself as you buried your face into his shoulder, gradually relaxing into him.

"I did, too," you whispered back, voice muffled by his dress shirt.

"It's good to have you back in Hell’s Kitchen," he told you.

Both of you held on to each other for a few moments longer, a smile drawn wide across your mouth as your fingers pressed into his back, trying to hold onto him somehow tighter. You didn't want to let him go, not after having gone without him eight long months. You felt the eventual prickle of tears in your eyes building the longer you held onto him, the dampness forming from a combination of extreme joy at finally seeing Matt again– touching him–mixed with the knowledge that you definitely would not be ready to say goodbye again in a few days.

Pressing your lips together, you reluctantly broke away from Matt, unburying your face from his shoulder as your arms gradually dropped back to your sides. And it didn't escape your notice that it took Matt a few seconds longer to release you from his hold, slowly pulling away from you. Though you stood entirely still and in complete shock when one of his hands slid its way up from your shoulders all the way to your cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking back and forth along your skin. Shyly you held his covered gaze, heat burning your cheeks at that charming smile on his mouth as he touched you in a way that felt so far from friendly. Matt’s smile only seemed to grow the further you flushed, your right hand nervously tightening around the hat in your hand.

Foggy loudly cleared his throat beside you, the sound breaking through the moment between you and Matt. Your eyes quickly darted away from him and landed on your two friends, Matt's hand inevitably falling from your cheek and back to his side. Both Foggy and Karen were shooting you wide, excited grins. Feeling a little embarrassed they’d just witnessed that, your bottom lip slipped between your teeth as you tried to fight down the growing nerves in your stomach.

"Why don't we sit and catch up?" Foggy suggested, gesturing to the chair that had been empty beside Matt’s. "We already grabbed you a beer.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding lightly. “That uh, that sounds good.”

The four of you headed back towards the table, your cheeks still burning a bit as you slid the chair out beside the one Matt was settling back down into. You noticed how he’d slid his just a bit closer towards yours, and that only had your stomach twisting more nervously as you set your hat down on the table. When you sat down in the chair, Foggy pushed a beer along the table towards you.

“Thanks, Fog,” you said, smiling at him.

Accepting the beer from his hand, you saw Matt’s attention on you out of the corner of your eye. He was still wearing that charming smile, directing it solely at you. In fact, he was completely focused on just you. That level of attention from him had your heart speeding up a little, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips. It didn’t matter that the pair of you had steadily been flirting more and more over your phone calls back and forth to each other these past few weeks before you’d finally flown out to New York, having Matthew Murdock’s sole focus on just you for once was suddenly making it damn near impossible to breathe.

You were definitely going to have a hard time adjusting to him being like this with you.

Clearing your throat, you tried to ignore the fluttering of your stomach. “How were things at the office today?” you asked, glancing between the three of them.

“A bit busy,” Karen answered. “There was an influx of new clients this afternoon.”

“And thank God for you stopping in after your classes,” Foggy added to Karen. “I don’t think we’d have made it through the rest of the day without your help.”

“Yeah, Matt mentioned you guys had been busy lately,” you said, picking up your beer.

“Oh yeah?” Foggy asked, a teasing smile on his face that had your beer pausing midway to your lips. “You both been talking a lot, have you?”

Heart giving a little lurch, your eyes darted towards Matt just to your left. A faint smirk slipped onto his lips as his hand came up, adjusting his glasses along the bridge of his nose. Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment as if you were in a trance, watching their movements as your beer still hovered just before your lips. His head shifted a little more towards you when his hand lowered back to the table and you almost forgot to breathe. His smirk only grew wider.

“How was your flight?” Matt asked.

Blinking hard a few times you glanced away, finally bringing the bottle to your lips. You took a big drink hoping the alcohol would help to somewhat calm your nerves before you answered.

“It was good, just really long,” you told him. “I’m still trying to readjust to the few hours time difference.”

“Jetlagged?” Karen asked.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “And I’m also trying to adjust to how cold it is right now.”

Foggy let out a sigh, shaking his head in faux disappointment at you across the table. “You go to LA for not even a year and you suddenly can’t handle the snow? Have you turned into Matt now?” He gestured a thumb at Matt beside him which only had Matt abruptly frowning. “Cause this guy still bitches that he’s freezing every goddamn day. It’s like the walk to Jerome Hall with him all over again when he gets to the office every morning. Always so grumpy.”

“I hate the cold, Fog,” Matt said, his attention shifting to Foggy. “You know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Foggy agreed. “I’ve only heard you tell me that about a million times now.”

“Does he still bury his face in a scarf?” you asked, grinning at the memories flashing through your mind. “Like he did all those times I met you guys at the dining hall?”

“Mhmm,” Karen hummed out. “Wraps it all the way up to his nose.”

You tried to stifle the laugh as you chanced a glance at Matt. He was smiling at you now, though, the frown entirely missing from his face. The laughter died on your lips almost immediately at the sight–he truly was incredibly handsome.

“I seem to remember someone always being really clumsy on the ice,” Matt teased.

Your eyes went wide as you heard Foggy burst into a laugh. Playfully your hand reached out, swatting Matt’s arm as his smile only broadened.

“I didn’t fall that often!” you countered.

Matt’s smile turned smug as he grabbed his beer, raising it from the table. “Because I usually caught you before you did,” he pointed out.

You opened your mouth, about to respond, but then you stopped. Brows furrowing deeply together, you quickly replayed the memories in your mind of the times you’d walked back from the bar or the dining hall or one of the restaurants nearby campus when you’d been out with Matt and Foggy. Your eyes narrowed as you recalled multiple different occasions you’d been walking beside Matt, your foot slipping on a patch of ice before Matt’s hand darted out to catch your arm.

“Didn’t realize that, did you?” Matt asked, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“No,” you whispered, glancing up at him. “I didn’t.”

Something incredibly strange happened in that moment–Matt’s smile suddenly turned shy as he ducked his head, focusing on the table. His fingers began twirling the beer bottle in front of himself almost nervously.

“Ever since you fell that time when we were leaving the bar and you–you hurt your wrist–” Matt began softly, gesturing a hand towards your left wrist, “–I always paid attention to your footing when there was ice. I didn’t want you to get hurt again. Because I remembered how much you said it hurt trying to type on keyboards all day for your programming courses after that.”

“Oh,” you whispered, eyes darting down towards your wrist. “I had no idea.”

Under the table, you felt Karen's foot nudge yours. Looking over your shoulder at her, you saw the bright smile on her face as she waggled her blonde brows at you. Movement across the table quickly caught your eye and your head turned, catching Foggy clasping his hands in something like mock prayer as he looked up at the ceiling of Josie’s, muttering ‘thank you’ repeatedly under his breath.

“Do you mind if I walk you back to your hotel after this?” Matt asked.

His voice yet again caught your attention, your head shifting back towards him. That shy look remained on his face, his dark brows raised a little above his glasses.

“Just, you know, to make sure you don’t trip on any patches of ice?” he added.

A warm, tingling feeling rushed through you at his words, your eyes openly staring at his lips as he’d spoken. For a moment you wondered what you’d have to do to feel them on yours tonight, because at this point you’d do just about anything.

“I’d like that,” you answered softly.

Nervously chewing the inside of your cheek, you walked with an arm looped through Matt’s, your hand clutching the wool of his coat as the pair of you made your way back towards your hotel in companionable silence. He’d folded up his cane and put it into his jacket pocket before you’d both begun the walk to your hotel which was only a couple of blocks from Josie’s. But when his free hand suddenly came up and landed atop the hand you were holding onto him with, you instantly startled at the touch.

“Your hand is freezing,” Matt observed.

“Yours is warm,” you blurted.

Matt chuckled lightly, his hand wrapping over the top of yours more fully and shielding it from the chilly night air. A slight giddiness rippled through you at the gesture, especially considering how much you knew Matt hated the cold himself. And not only that, but this walk with Matt back to your hotel felt vastly different than every other time you’d ever walked anywhere with him before. Different than any time he’d ever walked you back to your dorm at Columbia. It almost felt romantic–intimate, even. Which was definitely a first between the two of you.

“I’m really glad you came out to visit,” Matt told you. “Hell’s Kitchen really hasn’t been the same with you gone. And Karen was right, it always felt strange going to Josie’s and not having you there.”

“Well it–it always felt weird spending my days without seeing you,” you confessed, your eyes focused on the sidewalk as you both walked. “I mean I know after graduation it wasn’t like I saw you all the time but…it felt weird going months without hearing your voice. And not–not getting to see you every once and awhile.”

“I wanted to see you more often,” Matt admitted, his head turning over his shoulder towards you. “After graduation, I mean. I wished I could’ve seen you every day. Wished that I could’ve–” he stopped mid-sentence, letting his unfinished thought hang in the air before he shook his head. “I’m just–just glad you’re here right now. Though I wish it wasn’t just for a few days.”

You hung your head, a sad smile pulling at your lips. Your trip to Hell’s Kitchen was only four days long–not even if you actually counted the days you’d had to fly in and fly back. Truthfully it wasn’t long enough.

“I wish I could stay longer, too,” you whispered.

“I know Karen said you have a brunch planned tomorrow with her,” Matt began, “and I know that tomorrow night we’re all getting together back at Josie’s again, but would you…maybe like to grab coffee with me? Tomorrow morning?”

You glanced up at Matt from beneath your lashes, spotting the hopeful look on his face as he continued to focus on you in return. Your heart gave a little jolt in your chest at the sight.

“As in, like a…” your voice trailed off as nerves once again swirled in your stomach.

“A date, yes,” Matt confirmed. “Would you like to grab coffee with me tomorrow morning? As our first date?”

Inhaling a shaky breath, you nodded slowly. “Yes,” you answered.

Behind his glasses, Matt’s face visibly lit up. You could almost feel the warmth radiating from him. He abruptly came to a stop on the sidewalk, pulling you to one along with him. In one swift movement, he’d placed both of his hands gently on your hips, turning and guiding you backwards until your back was lightly pressed to the building that was now behind you. Matt stood before you, blocking you from the view of foot traffic as he smiled softly back at you.

“And Sunday night,” he continued, one hand rising up to very gently cup your cheek. “Can I take you to dinner Sunday night for our second?”

Lips parting, you stood there momentarily stunned as you stared back at him. In the silence that followed, you saw the white plumes of your breath mingle with his in the incredibly small space between the pair of you, your heart beating faster in your chest. He was so close to you now; you couldn’t help it when your gaze inevitably dropped down to his lips yet again this evening. Almost as if he’d known, the corners of his mouth curved ever faintly upwards.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Matt’s smile grew wider at your response, his other hand releasing your hip to reach up and remove his glasses from his face. One-handedly he folded them, slipping them into his jacket pocket as he gazed warmly back down at you, the view of his handsome face no longer obstructed. He took another step towards you, ever so slowly closing the distance between the pair of you. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart somehow hammering even faster in your chest as Matt’s hand slid down your cheek, his fingers lightly gripping your chin and tilting your face up towards his.

“And what about right now?” Matt asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. He leaned in even closer to you, his face barely a couple of inches away as his eyes fixed downward on your lips. “Can I kiss you right now?”

The warmth of his breath washed over your lips with each of his exhales and the sensation quickly had you growing lightheaded. Your own eyes were still focused on his mouth, that very same mouth you’d seen kiss countless other women over the years. The one that had flirted with so many others. The mouth that you’d spent years dreaming about, wondering how it would feel if he ever pressed it to yours. Wondering how soft those plush lips of his would actually be and if he was as great of a kisser as you’d unfortunately had to overhear countless times before.

Never in your life did you ever think that mouth would kiss yours.

“Yes,” you barely breathed out.

Matt’s thumb slid upwards, the pad of it brushing so lightly over your lips that you’d almost not felt it. You swallowed hard, a slight shudder running down your spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with Matthew Murdock. You saw his eyelids flutter close before his nose gently nudged yours, his fingers under your chin only further coaxing your mouth up towards his.

His lips had barely ghosted along yours–just the lightest of touches–before both of your hands flew out and landed on Matt’s chest. The moment his lips met yours more fully for a second time, your fingers curled tight around his wool coat, fisting the material roughly as you held on to him, your knees suddenly growing weak. Eyelids closing shut, you kissed him back more fervently than you’d have ever thought you’d have the nerve to do.

Matt’s fingers soon released your chin, his hand making its way to cradle the back of your head as he stepped completely into you, carefully pushing you further into the brick wall behind you. Both of your hands released their tight grip on his coat, making their way up to wrap one after the other around his neck, pulling him tighter into you and deepening the kiss. Matt’s mouth only moved more enthusiastically against your own in response, his hand tightening its grip in your hair as his other arm snaked its way around your waist, drawing you in flush to the front of himself with a faint grunt against your mouth.

As he kissed you, Matt held onto you like he had no intention of ever letting you go, his fingers roughly digging into your lower back even through your thick layers. His warm, soft lips were a distinct contrast to the cold as they continued to meet yours over and over, and the sharp, gasping breaths escaping from both of your mouths between kisses quickly filled your ears. With the way he was kissing you, you’d entirely forgotten about the fact that you were in public, standing on a sidewalk pressed against a building and openly making out with him. All you could think about was Matt and the way his mouth was making you feel.

For years you had often wondered if kissing Matt would feel like everything you’d ever thought it would, but tonight you’d finally learned that it felt like so much more.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock

406 notes · View notes

itwasthereaminuteago · 1 year

Text

|| Part of Me ||

Symbiote!Matt Murdock x female reader

Tags/warnings: oh gosh where do we start? 😅 Oral sex (f rec), sort of non-con tentacle insertion at first quickly changing to 'yes please I am fully onboard for some consentacle porn', unprotected sex (p in v), assplay (m and f), slight choking, human and alien body fluids I guess, improv cock ring, and FLUFF (yes actually!).

A/n: thank you to the mutuals who enabled this 😉 and the post I saw from @thora-jane that inspired me in the first place (huge apologies if it's not really your thing let me know and I'll untag 🫢)

If anyone likes this I might try a more angsty exploration into the deeper moral issues that arise from being a crime fighting vigilante lawyer with an alien inside that just wants to rip heads off and eat them (thanks @spiderbabey for the inspo for that!)

After a brief chase through the dark city streets The Devil has the mugger pinned underneath him, baton poised above the guy's head, the silver of it glinting in the streetlight, his muscles straining hard with the effort of holding it back. He had heard the commotion, the threats, the gun being drawn and was on the scene in a flash of red. The guy saw the suit, the horns, and ran. As he tore off after him Matt could sense that the victim was shaken but otherwise unharmed but if he hadn't acted so fast…

KILL 'IM

"No!"

BAD MAN

"Yeah, I know. Very bad man," Matt grits his teeth together trying to keep the other voice at bay as he draws a hard breath.

KILL HIM

"No, No killing! I told you." Matt snaps.

HUNGRY

The deep growl has a sharp metallic edge to it that shocks right through Matt's veins. He can feel the power of it bubbling through him and it's taking everything to keep it inside and contained.

The devil had truly been let out. He could use it as an excuse for the things he did at night but the honest truth was that he wanted to do those things, he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. Since he'd been infected with this thing he was even faster and stronger than before, better equipped to protect the Kitchen… but it came with a price.

MAKE HIM SUFFER

The voice over his shoulder hissed as the perpetrator stared up at Matt, the smell of fear wafting off him.

DELICIOUS…

"We're taking him to the police and that's the end of it."

Matt dragged the man to his feet and dumped him at the station. As he jumped up the fire escape onto the roof of the next building the symbiote twitched under his skin.

YOU CAN'T HOLD ME BACK FOREVER MATTHEW

He ignored it but he knew he was in for yet another restless night.

And that wasn't all.

There was you.

It had been the worst possible timing. You had started seeing each other about a month before it happened, and he was on edge around you the entire time. You had put it down to nerves and stress at work, trying your best to get Matt to relax and not worry, to assure him that you loved spending time with him and he could just be himself.

PRETTY

"Fuck, no, don't ruin this for me…please."

"Uh, hey Matt, you alright?"

He tries his best to keep it together. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine, it's just this case… "

"A tricky one huh?" You ask him.

"Mmm, a total pain in the ass, you could say."

"Do you need to work late? Because it's okay if you do, we can rearrange dinner for another time?"

He'd let you take the lead, you had been the one inviting him up to your apartment after you had dinner together and on both occasions he'd politely declined, half of him not wanting to rush this and the other half terrified of what his alien side might do.

WE LIKE HER

Yes, of course he liked you, you were funny and smart and understanding. So much more than most.

However, this time after you had finished your meal and he had walked you home, you wouldn't take no for an answer. You knew he was probably just being polite, knew he really wanted to take things further but had something on his mind. You were so patient and open with him, encouraging him to talk about it if he wanted, to express his concerns. You didn't want him to do something he'd regret.

"I just, don't want to hurt you…" he'd explained, and that was the truth. He'd quickly fallen in love with you and the way you were giving him all the time and space he could need was just causing him to fall even deeper.

"You won't hurt me Matt, I know you won't." You'd said so sweetly as you pressed him up against your door, your lips falling on his.

The alien had been uncharacteristically quiet of late but he wasn't taking any chances when you pulled him into your apartment. He wanted to damage control as far as possible, there was no way he wanted to scare you away.

"I know it might sound strange with me uh, not being able to see but… is it okay if we keep the lights off?"

You smiled so warmly. "Of course, I want us to be comfortable."

God you were perfect. He couldn't fuck this up. He wouldn't.

"Oh, oh that feels sooo good, oh holy shit Matt, it's like your hands are all over me…"

Fuck.

You had your eyes softly closed, that much he could tell and was grateful for. Inky black tendrils were webbing across your naked skin and caressing your breasts as his own fingers were still woven in your hair and holding onto your waist as he kissed you, but he couldn't stop it.

SOFT

The dark voice within him rumbles with interest.

WE WANT TO TASTE HER

For once Matt found himself agreeing with his symbiote.

"Sweetheart," he says to you, kissing his way slowly down the side of your neck and down your chest and stomach. "would you let me do something for you?"

You gasp in anticipation, knowing exactly what he's about to ask as he gently nudges your thighs wider. "Yes, yes Matty please…"

You don't see, only feel the two long black shining tentacles that lash their way around your thighs, with two others branching out and teasing up and down your pussy lips, spreading them open and putting you perfectly on display for him. You take a sudden sharp inhale of air and Matt freezes. "Are you alright? I can stop…" that wasn't exactly the truth, he didn't know if he could.

"No, no no please don't stop! I just… it feels so different, I- don't know how you're doing what you're doing, but god, don't stop…"

Matt hums before he kisses the soft inner skin of each thigh, then slips out his tongue, dragging it slowly up the center of you, flicking it up over your clit. The sound you make has his dick throbbing.

He laps you up, his hands skimming up over your hips to hold you firm to his mouth as he takes his time taking you apart. He hears you whimper and twitch under him, and only then is he aware of the thick, probing, wet tentacle that's pushing its way into your pussy.

"Mm!"

"Oh fuck!" Matt curses, he can feel the sensation of you squeezing him through the symbiote. It's like nothing he had ever experienced before. You moan long and hard as you're filled, Matt's tongue still licking and sucking you towards ecstasy.

SHE LIKES IT

He can't usually control what the alien does, can only hold it back so much, but now he finds the control has been shared with him, the room quickly filling with slick sounds as he moves this extension of him within you, drawing out your addictive little moans.

He stops when he senses you looking at him. Actually looking. With your eyes.

He wants to die.

"Oh, Matt…" you sit up as he gently pulls away from you, the symbiote retracting slowly and carefully back under his skin with a grumble that only he can hear.

"Is this what you were afraid of, why you've been acting so strange?"

"I, god I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- I'll go-" he feels around for his pants but you crawl across the bed and grab his arm stopping him from running away.

"Matt, please don't leave! Just tell me, is… is this thing a part of you?"

Matt sighs, hanging his head. "It's... still all so new but… yeah. I don't really know how it works yet." His head tilts adorably as he considers something.

"Why aren't you running a mile? Aren't you scared, or mad that I kept this from you?"

You only smile and pull him closer. "I'm only sad that you felt you had to keep it from me. If it's part of you, that's okay. I want all of you, Matt, if you still want me…"

He can't believe what you're saying, how could you possibly be any more perfect? He licks his lips, nodding. "Of course I do."

"Come here," you beckon, lying back on your bed. "We'll figure this out together, but only if you finish what you started. I don't know how good those other senses of yours are but… I liked it."

You trail your fingers up his side, his breathing shallow as everything you're saying sinks in.

"Touch me with them, Matt… please." Your voice is coloured with excitement and need and who is he to refuse you. His brows almost reach up to his hairline and the smile on his lips is as wide as his face when you reach for him. A soft gasp leaves you when his other side makes a gradual reappearance, the webbed, black tendrils snaking up your skin and coiling around your breasts. You sigh softly when one slides inside you again.

Rippling contractions pass down through the length of the tentacle, massaging you from within and making you mewl out with pleasure. Matt's breath wavers as you watch as another one wraps around his own cock and does the same, slowly squeezing and milking drops of precum onto the sheets.

The sensation of warm slithering and throbbing rolls over your clit at the same time Matt is desperately licking into your mouth, there's so much stimulation your brain is starting to melt. Slick wet sounds as the tentacle fucks in and out of you fill the room, and you feel your pussy walls start to flutter and contract. "Ohh, m'gonna cum-!" You moan as your body writhes and rolls against him. Matt takes it all in, he can feel the tight squeezing of your perfect cunt, the pounding of your heart, hear the sweet sounds you make as your orgasm rolls through you.

"You're so beautiful…"

He slows and gently pulls back letting you come back down. "Are you okay sweetie?"

You almost laugh, your body alight with desire. "Jesus Matt, yes!"

"If you want to stop-"

"Mm, no don't stop, let me feel you." you breathe, and tentacles are quick to wrap around your body, drawing Matt closer, bracing himself over you.

"You got any more of those?" You tease, arching into his touch while other thick strands of shiny black emerge and wrap around your legs pulling them open again. He moans against your parted lips, the coil that's around his hard cock nudging the head of it at your entrance, coating himself in your arousal. The tip of your tongue gently slides against his as he pushes inside, just the barest whisper of pain as he stretches you open.

SWEET GIRL, SO GOOD FOR US

Matt makes a quiet noise in agreement as he starts to grind his hips at your insistence. You feel like nothing else and he wants to make this good for you. You respond to every little touch of him and the symbiote, purring like a kitten when your nipples are pinched and tugged by the prehensile serpent-like appendages. The steady, slow drag of his cock in and out has you murmuring his name like a prayer while he shows just how much he adores you with his mouth, the warm brush of his lips caressing your sensitive skin and setting off goosebumps all across it.

YES

The voice at the back of his brain is greedy, but it soon becomes clear it's just echoing your own desires to him. He feels more tendrils slipping their way up to wrap around your throat and slither between your legs, hearing the needy, desperate panting from you when one of them brushes lightly against your ass.

"Uhuh! Please, yes Matty… please"

You beg him until the blunt, self lubricating tip of it breaches you gently. It's small and slender at first allowing you to get used to the intrusion, but then there's nothing but pleasure as it swells bigger making you feel stuffed full, pulsing every time Matt thrusts his cock deep in your pussy.

He groans as another tendril that's not under his control splits off, penetrating his own ass and throbbing against his prostate, while yet another curls tightly around the base of his sensitive cock to stop him from cumming right there and then.

"Fuck… fuck!" He whines at the intensity of all this feeling, connected to you in a way he could never have dreamed of.

You're so very near to falling apart, being thoroughly fucked from every possible angle, your eyes are rolling back and muffled moans escape from around the thick black tentacle that lays heavy against your tongue as you suck on it.

The creature inside him is suspiciously silent, seemingly content feeding from your throes of passion for now. But then it speaks again, a hungry voice full of sharp teeth and carnal want.

HARDER

SHE CAN TAKE IT

Matt tries in vain to shake the lustful haze from his mind. "Sweetie, tell me what you need…" he asks you, his voice strained and tight.

"M'so close Matt," you cry, "please, please harder… make me cum!"

He lets loose, giving you what you need, making you moan so prettily as his hips piston hard, skin slapping against the backs of your thighs. The improvised cock ring finally releases him, coiling lower to tug and pull on his balls and he ruts even harder chasing his own end. A slick combination of your own juices and those from the symbiote leaks over your bodies as they slip and slide against each other, only increasing the multitudes of sensation thrumming through you as the tentacles fuck, fill, tease and choke you. Your cries rise as you can't hold back any longer, cumming and creaming hard on his cock, your pussy and ass squeezing so powerfully he quickly follows, his fingers almost bruising your soft flesh as he's groaning and spilling hot inside you.

The symbiote growls and purrs along with him, satisfied and sated. It very slowly withdraws again, slipping out of your bodies leaving you wrapped in a sweaty mess of only each other.

Matt gently brushes some strands of hair away from your face. "You okay sweetheart? It… wasn't too rough on you was it?"

You stretch yourself out with a blissful sound against him, eyes half closed and a relaxed smile on your lips. "No, I… just didn't know I could feel that good."

Matt chuckles softly, kissing you on the cheek. "Neither did I."

You lie there for a few soft moments getting your breath back before guiding him to the bathroom, turning on the shower and pulling him in with you, letting the stream of hot water cleanse you both. His multiple tentacles are a great help washing your hair and soaping up your body, and you find yourself petting them and giggling as they wrap a fluffy towel around you when you're done.

"Honestly Matt, I think you're amazing."

Matt is almost brought to tears while he hugs you tight. It feels so good to know he doesn't need to face this change in him alone, and that he's lucky that he met someone as understanding and loving as you to share it with.

Now all he had to figure out was how to explain his other life to you…

#matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #symbiote!matt murdock #venom!matt murdock #consentacles #oh my god what have i done 😅#what's that? do a Fratt version you say....?#monsterfucking #daredevil x female reader #symbiote!daredevil #venom!daredevil #daredevil smut #matt murdock x f!reader

195 notes · View notes

jadelynlace · 4 months

Text

Learning to Walk Again⎮Ink Drinker Deleted Scene⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]

Find more Ink Drinker here.

Author's Note: This takes place somewhere between Chapter Six, and Chapter Seven, and as someone who is only a provider for patients pre-hospital, this defienetly pushed me out of my comfort zone. (And was likely why it took my so long to write again.)

Content Warnings: Medical settings, Ivar being reluctant.

Word Count: 2600+ words

“Giving you love right now, Ivar, seems like a desperate act,”

It intoxicates him, lying in the cot; and having seen the abyss he’s falling towards up close, he still refuses. Floki sits on the other side of the room, painstakingly watching Ivar stare at the ceiling, at the world just beyond his window. He’s watching him waste away; pushing himself up on few occasions to readjust, but he refuses food. Refuses help. He just simply refuses.

“The only way I am leaving here, Ivar, is if you get up and escort me out,” Floki has told him, calmly.

“Do you want my lunch?” Ivar asks dryly. Floki on shakes his head. “You’ve been here for days,” He tries.

“As have you,” Floki starts. “The only difference is, Helga has packed me food. You know how she gets,”

“Go home to her,” Ivar grumbles.

“No,” Floki replies, and it’s firm. Reasonable. Steady—what Ivar needs right now. His eyes are still closed as he speaks, head resting back against the wall. Floki never sleeps, Ivar is sure of that. He only rests.

“I don’t want to break up your marriage because of this. I’ve already lost Y/N,”

“You fight for what you want,” Floki simply says. “And, if you would look at any other place than outside your window, you bastard, you’d notice, she’s been in the hall,” Ivar turns his head quickly at that. But he knows, Floki never lies.

You’re there, propped up in one of the most uncomfortable chairs you’ve ever sat in, your sweatshirt bunched into a makeshift pillow as you scroll on your phone. You’re still in your uniform, and you’ll probably stay in it until your next shift. There’s a single water bottle on the ground, and as Ivar watches you, a nurse stops at your side. She offers you something to eat and you accept it. Because she knows you’ve been here for days, too.

“Thank you, Thora,” You say softly and your throat is dry. Dry from misuse, dry from crying. Dry.

“You’re alone today,” She remarks, and takes the set next to you. Your eyes watch her, trailing from your phone to her face before dancing down to her ID badge, clipped to her scrubs by a cartoon pizza slice, complete with a smile.

“Yeah, his brother wanted to get some sleep in a place that won’t cause him irreversible spine damage,” You hum, watching Thora split her sandwich into two pieces.

“You might want to try that too,” Thora says softly, handing you your half. “They seems really close,”

“They’re twins,” You state. “They were made that way,” You snort. “We uh, we worked his crash together,” You then tell her.

“Wow,” Thora answers. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like,”

“I couldn’t tell you, either, I haven’t—haven’t processed it yet,”

“You will in time,” She tells you. “If you don’t die from exhaustion, or spine damage first,” She teases you, and you snort.

“I didn’t get to be where I am without being determined,” You answer. “Chief didn’t raise no quitter,” And that phrase alone makes you smile.

For a moment you wish he was here; everything makes sense with him around. Your drawing he handed you is still in your pocket, and every so often you find your fingers gravitating towards it. Like a toddler and their favorite blanket. It makes sense. Just like everything makes sense in the bay at the station. You can’t remember how many times you’ve sat on those floors, even prior to your career, just to find some piece of mind. That warmth of nostalgia from the cool touch to the concrete; and the smell—one you’ve never found anywhere else. How your home smells, only to you. A scent you could notice any moment, but it would only make sense in that one place. You’d wheel Ivar there in a heartbeat if you thought it would have the same affect on him.

“If he doesn’t start eating soon, we’ll have to place him on a feeding tube,” Thora suddenly admits.

“I know,” You say.

Ivar watches you converse, not able to know what you’re saying but with the expression on your face, he learns it’s nothing pleasant. You’re paler now than he remembers, there’s no color to your cheeks, you’re gaunt, you’re simple existing as he is.

That’s the moment Ivar realizes it. If this kills him, it’s going to kill you, too.

It’ll kill Floki.

It’ll kill Hvitserk.

It’ll kill Aiden.

It’ll kill his mother.

It’ll kill you. It’ll kill the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

Inhaling suddenly, a panic seeps into Ivar—as if something has grabbed him, holding him under water and his screams only bubble to the surface. Sitting up quickly he grips his bed sheets, the monitor to his side beeps rapidly to announce the anxiety and it draws Floki’s attention. It draws Thora’s attention, and with a bite of turkey in your mouth, you look up at the man, with panic etched into his features, he is staring back at you.

“Ivar?” Floki says, and even you notice that this is concerning to him. “Ivar? What’s going on?”

“I—,” And out of all the languages he can speak, none of them want to trickle off his tongue. Thora stands in anticipation and you only put your hand to slow her down.

“Leave him be,” You finally say after swallowing your bite. “Floki’s the best thing for him right now,”

“Not if he’s having a serious problem,” Thora answers, looking down at you.

“He’s not,” You reply. “I know that look,” You tell her.

“I can’t kill her,” Ivar finally says.

“Ivar…?” Floki starts.

“Y/N,” Ivar replies, as if the answer is as clear for Floki as it is for him. “I can’t kill Y/N,”

“You think this is killing her?” Floki asks. “Tell me more,” Ivar swallows thickly.

“She’s…she’s pale,” Ivar replies. Floki negates to turn to look at you, waiting for what more is to come. Ivar takes his hands to scrub the tears out of his eyes before speaking again:

“She’s in the same uniform,”

“She wears and identical uniform, Ivar. Every day,”

“No—no she washes it after work. Right after work—she’s through the door and…and it’s in the wash before anything else. I always—I always kiss her shoulder when she’s done and she said—she wants a tattoo there now because it’s so reparative. It drives me up the fucking wall too because sometimes…she just washes it alone, or I’ve done my laundry already and then she’s there, taking off her uniform,”

You watch Ivar. You watch him explain something to Floki with the intensity through his features, a passion to his words and you wonder what on earth he could be talking about.

“The color is always brighter after the wash, and it’s always dim when she comes home from work. Like…like she’s so excited to go into the job she loves, and even though she’s drained when she comes home, she does it all again because that’s who she is,”

“Ivar,” Floki tries.

“And it’s so dim right now, Floki—her uniform, her face, everything is so fucking dim because of me. And this is killing me, because I can hardly move and—and I keep trying to tell my legs to move but they’re ignoring me. And if this kills me, it’s going to kill her. Where will she find that color if I die, Floki?” Ivar finally cries.

Floki’s eyes water, inhaling deeply as he watches the little boy he remembers cry in front of him.

“Ivar,” Floki says. “Let’s stand up, and we’ll go from there,”

And Ivar nods. Without even thinking about the sentence, he nods every so slightly that Floki almost misses it.

Stunned for a moment, Floki swallows, mentally patting himself on the shoulder as he straightens. He puts a hand on Ivar’s shoulder, squeezing for a second before he abandons his bag on the chair and turns to the hallway. Opening the door and cleaning his throat he looks at both you, and Thora.

“Think you can help him stand, Y/N?” Floki asks. In all honesty, you’re quite positive you’re imagining it. “Y/N?” Floki asks again.

“Help him…help him stand?” You ask.

“Did I stutter?” Floki tries. You inhale, standing as Thora follows you. But before she can follow you into the room, Floki cuts off her path.

“Give them a second,” He winks. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Floki asks her.

“Hi,” Ivar says to you softly.

“Hi, Ivar,” You say back to him as he finally looks up at you. “Oh, Ivar…” You trail off, taking the pad of your thumb to wipe the tear that spills. He melts into your hand at an instance, leaning against your palm as if you’re taking away every ounce of discomfort for him.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Ivar mumbles.

“What?” You ask.

“I don’t want to kill you too,” He repeats, as if it makes sense to you, like it does to him.

“You won’t,” You try.

“If I don’t get better, I will,” He tells you and that’s when it hits you, too.

“Then lets stand up, just you and me, yeah?” You try.

“Are you allowed to do that?” Ivar asks, stalling.

“I am a medical professional,” You say. “And they can sue me if they think otherwise. I’ll move the blanket, you don’t have to look, alright?” You tell him and Ivar nods.

It aches Ivar as he feels you pull the sheet from his leg, relishing in the fact that he can feel it; he can feel the cold air against his skin, but he won’t look. You eyes scan his legs, still wrapped in dressings, less stitches than you remember and you gently place you hand on his thigh.

“You feel that?” You ask and Ivar nods. Your mind takes over, as if he is a patient in your care and you asses is pedal pulse, two fingers on the top of his foot and it’s strong. “Can you feel that?” You whisper and Ivar nods, still looking directly at you. Only at you. You take your knuckle against the ball of his foot, tracing from heel to toe lightly, and back down again. “How about that?” And he nods, a glimmer of a smirk to his lips at how it tickles him. “Can you move your toes for me?” You then ask him, and Ivar does—eyes still not leaving yours. He watches how your eyes water, and you recall asking him similar questions in the heat of the crash’s aftermath and how he slurred a response.

“Can you roll your ankles at all?” You whisper. And you watch them rotate, just as you ask. You take you thumb to his nail bed, pressing against his toe to watch the capillary refill in almost perfect time. And the whole time, Ivar’s eye never leave your face. “Alright,” You squeak. “I��ll help you swing them slowly,”

“Wait,” Ivar says suddenly. “Come here,” And you obey. His hands stretch towards you, taking up your cheeks as he brushes the hair from your face, and wiping under your eyes. He pulls you in then, his lips just brushing yours and you can’t help the small cry that escapes, that’s caught between the two of you before it’s swallowed with the kiss.

“I love you,” Ivar whispers.

“I love you, too,”

“Now I’m ready,” Ivar tells you.

Your hands are nearly hot coals against his legs, as you try to be as gentle as possible with your heart rate nearly pounding in your ears. You have half a mind to stop, to pull out your phone so you can record it but you don’t want to ruin the moment.

“Fuck, that tile is a lot colder than I thought it would be,” Ivar grumbles and it makes you laugh. “If I fall, you know you’re going to fall with me, right?”

“Gee, Ivar, I hadn’t really thought of that,” You say sarcastically and there’s a glare from his face that you don’t realize how much you have missed until that moment.

With his feet on the floor you repeat the same movements, assess, feeling, having him move his toes and his ankles and all the while Ivar won’t look at his legs. Adjusting his hospital gown, you position his hand to grip the railing, and you put your shoulder under his opposite arm.

“Ready?” You ask.

“Not really,” Ivar admits.

“If you think you’re going to fall, just sit back down, alright?”

“You ever done this before?” Ivar asks, stalling.

“Only at least once a day while I’m on duty,” You answer.

“I don’t know if I can—”

“Ivar, not today,” You state. “We’re not doing this today, we’re not doubting ourselves,” And Ivar inhales. “On three, yeah?”

“Baby—”

“Ivar,” You say sternly, catching his eyes. “You can do this. You can stand up. It’ll get you that much closer to coming home,”

“Alright,” Ivar peeps.

“One, two…two and a half…three,” You finally say. And as you hold your breath your barrel your feet down against the ground, taking Ivar’s weight as you help to lift him. You watch the muscles in his arm tense, the veins popping into view as he pushes himself to be flat on his feet. And for a moment, time freezes, and Ivar stands.

He stands.

“Fuck,” Ivar hisses. “It’s worse than pins and needles,” He groans.

“Lean some of your weight on me,” You tell him. And he does. “Alright, good, now shift some back against the bed,” You then say. As Ivar follows your command you take your free arm and you reach for the walker that’s collecting dust by his bed.

“We’re going to switch, and you’re going to push your weight through your hands against the walker, alright?”

“No—I’ll fall,” Ivar tries.

“On three, yeah?”

“Y/N,” Ivar tells you but you know better this time than to let him pull himself out of the moment. You move the device in front of him and he follows suit without argument, grunting slightly as he moves his hand from the rail to the handle. Slowly you help him bring the other hand down, catching his weight before he’s standing on his own, hands gripping the bars for dear life.

And you laugh—in sheer shock you look at Ivar standing before you.

“Ivar!” You exclaim. “You’re standing, you’re—you’re fucking standing!”

Ivar has a look of discomfort across his face, mixing with the anguish and what feels like slight embarrassment while you reward him for what he thinks is the most basic fucking thing.

“Where do you hurt?” You ask quickly, searching his face.

“Do you want to guess?” Ivar snaps at you. His breathing rate increases as he feels his palms get sweaty and he worries he’s going to lose his balance.

“I’m right here, Ivar,” You tell him.

“I’m standing,” He finally croaks. “I’m actually—standing,” And there’s a smile on his face.

You move yourself to his vision, reaching through your toes to kiss his chin and you smile back at him.

“I told you,” You whisper to him, and Ivar sees that color come back to your face.

“Where’s Floki?” Ivar asks.

“Did you really think I would go that far, eh?” Floki sings from the hallway.

“Floki—I’m standing,” Ivar says in disbelief. “You have to call Hvitserk,” He adds.

“My phone is a bit busy right now,” Floki hums, and you notice then, where his bag sits abandoned in his chair, his phone sits just outside of it, propped up, and recording.

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 @anakindoesntlikesand @mymindfuckery @noonespecial90 @hypocrtic-trash-baby @tessakate

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

full masterlist can be found here.

#vikings #vikings au #modern vikings #ivar au #modern vikings au #ivar #modern ivar #vikings fiction #ivar lothbrok #ivar x you #ivar x reader #modern ivar x you #modern ivar x reader #floki #floki au #modern floki

38 notes · View notes

tamurilofrivendell · 1 year

Text

Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 25

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist: @captainchrisstan @rebleforkicks @yjrevolution @majahu, @honey-wine @accio-boys, @achromaticerebus @solomonssimp @tired-ass-show-girl @dreamlessnight @daddy-long-legolas @sleepyamygdala, @coopsgirl @penguinlovestowrite

Vermund had made short work of fetching the village healer, practically dragging him to the tavern with a story of how worried for your father’s mental wellbeing he was. The healer had taken one look at him and had one listen to his nonsensical ramblings before he had immediately agreed and, with the help of the townsfolk, your father had been taken to the local infirmary and locked up in one of the locked rooms where they kept the patients who were a danger to themselves and other or were a flight risk. It was not much better than the cell you had traded yourself to free him from in Mirkwood. Still, Vermund walked around as though he had saved the day, head held high and a satisfied smirk on his face.

Two days passed...

...but you still did not return.

Nobody had seen hide nor hair of you and he couldn’t understand where you would have gone for this long, especially with no one knowing your whereabouts. Usually, the village was so on top of everyone else’s personal business that nothing went secret or unknown for long. It struck Vermund as strange indeed and it concerned him.

It did not worry him. It concerned him.

He was concerned that if you did not show back up soon, he would be forced to end up looking elsewhere. Taking another woman in the village as his wife and nobody else in this place was up to his standards... but he would not be wifeless for the rest of his life. Who would cook his meals? Who would do his laundry? Who would keep his home clean? Who would tend to his needs whenever the fancy so took him?

On the morning of the third day, Vermund had had enough. He hadn’t believed for one minute that you were with the King of the Elves but the more time that passed, the more he was willing to entertain the idea. After all, elves were known to kidnap pretty human maidens, were they not?

“Oeric.” Vermund mused, after he had dragged his friend down an alleyway to dodge a trio of irritating sisters who were constantly vying for his attentions. “Do you suppose that the old man might not be... entirely insane, after all?”

Oeric gave Vermund a look, shaking his head. “He’s utterly mad. You saw him.”

“Yes, but...” Vermund hummed, thoughtfully plucking an apple from a nearby tree and then promptly throwing it over his shoulder as though it were trash. “...where else could she be? She would not have left the old man here alone. She always was rather...” He waved a hand in the air, making a face. “...protective of the crazy bastard.” Vermund shrugged, stopping and folding his arms across his broad chest as he looked down his nose at Oeric. “I think it is worth a try. I have looked everywhere.”

“Why not simply take Thora as your wife.” Oeric shrugged, acting as if it were of no consequence.

He wilted under the horrified stare Vermund gave him in return. “Are you as mad as the old man?!” He all but cried. “Have you seen that woman’s nose?! She looks like one of my horses.”

The two men guffawed as they started moving once more, falling in step beside each other as they moved off to hunt in the fields again. “No, I think that we should round up the others and leave for the Elf King’s castle in two days.” Vermund said, nodding very decisively. That was that. Vermund had decided what he wanted to do and everybody else would fall in line.... they always did.

Two days after the queen’s begetting day, the start of Mereth Di a Rhîw Menel - Feast Beneath a Winter Sky - had come, and Myleth roused you early as she had the whole morning planned. She had been flitting around you like a little bird, determined to dress you up like a doll for the event.

It was a little annoying but you stood patiently through it all, letting her pick out the colours and the style of your dress, your hairstyle, jewellery... everything. It seemed to make her happy and that made you happy in turn, as much as you were not used to being poked and prodded and draped in such expensive fabrics. She had a very motherly aura about her and it was comforting as she helped you into your dress and braided your hair very specifically, using red ribbons again as she had already decided. You had no idea whether or not looking a certain way for an elven celebration was necessary so you quite happily just let Myleth do her thing.

“Are you excited, dear?” She asked with a smile as she continued braiding a little section of your hair. She had left most of it down to frame your face, pulling a section back into a little bun near the top of your head, with many intricate little braids wrapped decoratively around the the bun, tied with delicate red ribbons.

“Yes.” You nodded but you were a little anxious and it probably showed on your face.

Myleth smiled kindly at your reflection in the mirror. She finished your hair and gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry so much, my dear. Just have fun.” She paused, stepping back and appraising her handiwork. “You look beautiful.”

Yes, she thought, the king will be most pleased.

Thranduil, too, was being dressed for the ball, though of course he was far more used to being dressed and attended to than you were. Galion was at his side, helping him into his heavy clothing and assisting in fixing his splendid winter crown upon his head.

“If I may speak freely, my lord?” Galion ventured, adjusting the intricate brooch at the front of Thranduil’s tunic.

Thranduil glanced at him, just a little amused. He was certain that Galion already knew that he could practically say whatever it was that he wanted and Thranduil would listen. He highly valued his butler’s opinion and thoughts. “You may.”

Galion stepped back and glanced up at him, gaze appraising the king’s outfit for the feast. “I daresay, My King, that the lovely lady will be rather taken with your appearance this day.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, sparing Galion another glance from the corner of his eye. “And why, pray tell, would it affect me what the lady thinks of the way I look?”

Galion tilted his head a little then, giving Thranduil a knowing smile. “No reason at all.” His eyes were shining slightly, however, and Thranduil couldn’t help but return the smile, somewhat amused because he could quite easily tell that Galion knew. That he had gleaned his feelings towards you, whatever they may be. It wasn’t too surprising, he supposed. Other than his son or Feren, Galion was the one who spent the most time around him, the one who knew him better than most.

As Thranduil turned to take one final look at himself in the large mirror, he found that he did not mind in the slightest.

You were a mess of nerves and excitement, the two fighting together throughout your entire body. You weren’t even sure what you were so nervous about. Was it that you did not know the customs? You had been assured it was of no matter and nothing was expected of you. Was it because of Thranduil?

...possible, you admitted to yourself. Still, you did your best to push the thoughts away and followed Myleth towards the grand hall where the festivities were to be held. She pushed open the heavy doors and swept you inside by your elbow. No turning back.

Thranduil was seated at the head of a long table, on a large chair of intricately carven wood, almost like a mini throne. He was speaking with his son, who sat upon his right, but he turned his head when the doors opened.

His gaze fell upon you...

...and everything stopped.

Without even realising that he had done it, Thranduil had risen from his chair.

He was standing with his gaze fixed upon you as Myleth ushered you into the hall. He barely realised she was there. In fact, the rest of the room had entirely seemed to melt away. His son’s voice was not even a whisper to him anymore.

Legolas was staring at his father with deep concern on his face when he finally turned and followed Thranduil’s gaze. A smirk wove its way onto his features when he saw what - or rather who - his father was looking at. Legolas glanced at Galion, who returned his look, and then lowered his head to try and hide his expression.

He need not have bothered. Thranduil was completely entranced as he watched you coming closer. His eyes took in every little detail. Your hair. Your dress. Your face. You could have been Lúthien herself.

Myleth led you to the king’s table and you could only shoot her a confused look. You had been spending a lot of time with him, yes, but you had assumed that at such a function as this, you would have been seated with others. However, you did not complain as she moved to pull out the chair to Thranduil’s left so you could sit next to him.

He got there first, however, still staring at you as if he was completely starstruck. You hadn’t seen such a look on his face before and you could feel yourself flushing furiously as you inclined your head respectfully and took a seat in the chair. Thranduil gently pushed the chair in once you were seated and moved back to his own, finally sitting back down himself.

Legolas coughed to cover a chuckle and the spell was broken.

Thranduil turned to give his son a glare and you quickly lifted a glass of wine to your lips, trying to hide behind it to cover your blush. You glanced between the two of them and suddenly realised that your dress seemed to match with Thranduil’s own outfit.

“You look very lovely.” Thranduil’s deep voice pulled your attention back from studying the fabric covering his broad chest and back up to his face before you had too much time to really focus on it and you smiled at him.

You cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed at the fact it probably looked like you had been staring. “Thank you. You look...” How did one compliment a king? A brief panic shot through you but Myleth’s light touch upon your elbow as she walked away to seat herself with Elros and some others calmed you a little. “Very handsome.” You finished, before glancing at Legolas. “Um. You too, Legolas... very princely indeed.”

Legolas chuckled. “Why thank you, my lady. I have been told that I, how do you humans put it, scrub up rather well.” He beamed happily as it pulled a laugh from you.

Thranduil lazily reached for his chalice, filled with wine, and lifted it to his lips with slightly narrowed eyes. He found he was somewhat disappointed that you had painted both he and Legolas with the same compliment. Though he wasn’t sure why and he decided to simply ignore it.

Still, he could not keep his eyes from you, sneaking glances every so often as the minutes passed. Much to his pleasure, he caught you doing the same, and soon he had turned himself to face you, intent on making the most of your attention this evening.

“Relax.” He murmured, smiling at you knowingly as you fidgeted briefly “You have nothing to worry about.”

You chuckled, shaking your head at the fact he had been able to read you. “I have never attended an event that comes anywhere close to something such as this.” You told him, scanning the elaborately decorated room, and the many heads of the elves who were seated throughout.

Thranduil placed a hand upon your arm. “In that case, little human, this shall certainly be a night to remember.”

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #beauty and the beast

124 notes · View notes

oncewhenalongtimeago · 9 days

Text

The Jealous One pt 10

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,344

You really don’t know how to make bread. Hiccup doesn't know how, either.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE, unedited

Oh hel.

You stared down at the crumpled and half-covered plants by your feet sitting just at the base of a sheer rock wall, grimacing deeply at the wilted stems and leaves. Not a single sprout looked at all viable.

You bemoaned the thought that it might have been your fault that they ended up in such a manner- mud fights weren’t exactly conducive to healthy plants, nor were mudslides, which happened on Berk with a higher frequency than you thought they should, and the way it looked, the plants had been picked much too thin to make any kind of recovery- under normal circumstances, they should have been able to avoid any measurable damage- one or two mudballs, especially, but they looked sort of miserable, actually.

You wondered who had been picking them dry.

You sighed, feeling the full force of the sun on your back. You were sure you’d have to take responsibility, though you’d love if not another soul knew about your involvement. You could try and fix it up on your own, but-

You processed the vague sound of crunching mud- and after being so suddenly pulled from your musings, you nearly startled.

There went that idea.

You looked to your side with wide, uncomfortable eyes to greet another pair of slumped shoulders and startled eyes.

There stood Hiccup in his casual clothes, old green tunic pulled from what was most likely a deep crevasse in the piles of his room’s junk hidden under his work desk and his bed.

“I, ah-” Hiccup started, his voice slightly more nasal than usual, “Had nothing to do with that.”

You grimaced harder, turning fully to face him.

“I think I’ve been- I’ve been picking them dry.” Hiccup said, shuffling to match you, his palm grazing his elbow before coming up to brush the hair on his forehead, running it down the back of his head until it nearly reached his neck, “My leg- It gets worse when I’m, ah- …”

You glowered at him as he dropped his arm. You hoped your eyes were conveying your displeasure- culprit.

“It’s not exactly… Comfortable.”

He started shuffling and winced.

You could see the point at which he considered shifting again but decided better of it.

“You need to add more padding.” You said, brows furrowed evenly.

You knew he already had some padding in his pant leg, sewn to fit his stub, but you’d always thought he might need more in the socket of his prosthetic. You’d never said anything aloud, though- he, like you, could be quite stubborn and blind, especially when he was proud, which he was very often when it came to the things he’d built.

His original prosthetic was made by Gobber, though it was inspired heavily by Hiccup, which was something to be proud of, and Hiccup had had a hand in its care, of course, and had plans to add a few tweaks of his own.

“You think?” Hiccup asked sarcastically, looking at you with a grimace of his own. “I don’t think I’ll be able to carve in enough of a bed to keep any real padding- It’s going to shatter on me the next time I take a knife to it.”

“Yes.” You said, hoping he got blisters.

A brown-haired woman stormed past the porch on which you stood, wooden steps before you, rant wildly, though you could tell she was more impassioned by the wild mood than truly mad, "-I’d rather eat out home than be up at the hall, not with the bread- Have you noticed the difference? Audacious-brazen- the nerve-!”

You looked down at the bowl in your hands, covered by a rough, clean cloth, glowering at the poor excuse for a lump of dough you knew was cradled within it as you stood by the side between two buildings in Berk’s village center, waiting for Thora to return, listening albeit unwillingly to the rabble of the folks surrounding you.

You had been making a lot of bowls of dough recently.

It was unusually cheery out and even more bustling than usual- nearly everyone was out with a smile, though you found you weren’t so interested.

“-Aye, I ‘ave got a nice cutting of wood, if you find any interest– it’s good fer ‘em leg-making- and arm fixin,’ of ‘ourse, if yer fixing to make another, and I’m sure ye’d be needin’ some of ‘at soon.” You watched Johannes proposition Gobber out of the corner of your eye, who was clearly not paying him any attention, waving him off as he sipped out of his ‘cup’ arm- a mug with a handle stuck in it carved in the shape of a peg, easy to fit into his prosthetic’s screw hole.

Across the way, Johannes had a shallow cart of what looked to be just-recently-sanded strips of wood, thin and polite looking.

You furrowed your brows, wishing you were anywhere but there as he droned on- It was a rare day whenever anyone was unable to sell on Berk -a miracle, really- for Gobber was an easy buyer.

A tall red-headed woman burst past you, storming down the dock, hauling a large cart of barrels behind her like a field animal, “-Streams of cloth-!”

He thought himself wise and clever, but the old blacksmith was perhaps the most susceptible on the island to the advertisement of any decent material. He had a chest full of useless materials, though he often ended up doing at least something with most trinkets.

You shuffled, boot soles scuffing against the wood below, hoping that your dough was enough to land you a job in the Great Hall- they were so picky up there, really, the old maids- though you had to admit your culinary skills were quite poor.

You resisted the urge to rub the back of your head, recounting, ruminating and stewing your most recent run-in with Hoark’s wife.

She was the resentful type, one of the ones who had been pestering you and Snotlout with chores, not that he hadn’t deserved any of the pestering, but- Oh, you’d surely told her that if they wanted you to do any more you’d have to be paid. She’d respond by tossing a bowl towards your head, scolding you with something about public service and the Chief and dragons.

You shot something sour back about never having been a Rider- and, well, you’d gotten a bowl to the head for your efforts.

Exhaustion- you were up to your ankles in it.

Your arms worked hard into the pristine wooden counter, pushing and rolling dough over ground grains in the open hall of one of Berk’s newest buildings- you weren’t sure anyone had settled in yet, and that was just as well.

As you’d recently learned, with the lack of a proper kitchen in the Great Hall- it was poor, really, they’d set up shop here for the time being. You wondered when it would finally be declared a community building like the library had been, something which you’d taken a lot of joy in.

It was about time, really, and it was awful nice not to have to ask around for books or notes anymore, though some of them had the tendency to go missing, and without any real book-watcher to keep an eye out, many missing slips went unaccounted for.

You rolled the dough below your hands- dark and grainy- extra hard into the wood, a dark brown, smoother than any other table you’d known, sanded and sealed in a way that made it harder for any dough-bits to get stuck in the cracks and rot-.

You prayed to any God that would listen that Thora would be impressed with it this time- cooking was one of the least indulged-in activities on Berk and was not one you were particularly well-practiced in. It was one of your least favorite activities, in fact, but you needed the job if you were going to buy back the plants before anyone had noticed them missing and kicked up a fuss.

As you’d learned through careful reading, some of them you could only get from Johann and you knew for sure that that old liar played favorites.

It was a shame you couldn’t get coin any other way, but most things had been accounted for and you’d been stoutly refused pay for most of your chores.

You listened to the voices dancing and mingling from the open window, the wide open space and propped open doorway making you feel quite naked even separated by wooden walls from the outside.

You nearly scowled as you heard the voice of a woman, a portly blonde -very pretty but also frazzled- and you heard the vague idea of some other voice as hers mingled with something deeper.

You wished you were making stew instead. You could handle an alright stew. Snotlout would like your stew… If you didn’t tell him you were the one who made it.

You cursed the dough for the highest time that day.

Really, You had asked around and now you were starting to suspect that the dough-making test had been a torture that Thora had cooked up just for you.

You wanted to scowl again as you heard the noise of a crowd approaching the doorway once again, though you released it slightly as they bustled past.

You were slightly displeased as a straggler separated from the bunch. You caught him out of the corner of your eye as he stumbled over wood, a pleasant expression over his face as he looked back, the cheering of Gobber now loud and obvious past the door frame, growing quieter as he walked away.

You’d been running into him a lot as of late.

“What’s going on out there?” You asked, before he could speak. “It sounds like everyone’s out throwing a party. It’s not Snoggletog, is it?”

You turned your attention away from the bread

“...Something like that,” Hiccup said dryly. “Pre-festival.”

“Really?” You braced your hands against the edge of the table, the wood below creaking as you leaned over it.

You stuck your tongue out slightly, furrowing your brows at its sealed surface.

Despite its newness, it was a very poor counter; craftsmen had been, clearly, ignorant in the art of table-leg making, its sides slightly unbalanced and nailed into the floor. Compared to anything else you’d be able to find anywhere, it was probably one of the worst tables ever.

The other islands told you so- or, their trades, really. Berk’s carpenters could be considered novice in comparison- the exploration of anything other than fighting was... A privilege the inhabitants of Berk had only been recently afforded.

You wondered how the youngest children on Berk felt, having been able to grow up in a world without dragon fighting.

You’d always wondered as a kid, on war-torn Berk, how the other settlements had even been able to make something so smooth or beautiful.

The quality of the simple chairs and tables Johann had brought over on the very rare occasion had seemed otherworldly and had been sold fast- to be fair, though, it would probably be much easier for anyone to achieve that same level of quality in craft in any place with fewer conflicts.

You cringed as another loud shout echoed in from the outside, where the sun from the window felt nearly burning against your eyes.

“Here, let me-” Hiccup pressed the house’s shutters closed before going back to close the door, kicking away the stopper with his foot.

You felt every muscle in your body release as the noise from outside became more muted, looking down at your dough with new eyes.

It looked dark and slightly green, deflated like a sad, dry booger.

…It might have been overworked. You were no expert, though.

“I’m going to have to make a new batch.” You grumbled.

Hiccup shrugged, coming around the side of the counter, “...It looks fine to me?”

You didn’t even mind as he edged closer, too busy mulling over your failed batch.

“Are the others nearby?” You asked.

They hadn’t been around recently, so of course you’d assumed they’d been off doing Rider-ly things with their leader. The suckers had ditched you pretty quickly after the mud fight and you hadn't had the chance to mingle with or chase after and wrestle down the others recently, either, as they’d probably wanted you to do- though you knew they’d wander back eventually.

“...They’re up at the hall, probably, if you want to meet up with them. They’re managing the decorations, I think.” Hiccup said.

You hadn’t been around, looking around for work, nagging the Vikings that strayed from the late meal. Berk’s hardest workers always skipped it, staying out way past the setting of the sun- they were usually the ones who needed assistance but were too stubborn to ask for it. They also tended to be fond of their alone time, too disconnected from Berk’s larger circle to absorb any of the most recent news- when you were younger, you’d imagined you might end up like one of them.

“Decorations?” You asked dryly. You wouldn’t put the Twins in front of a yak, much less in charge of any decorating.

You were sure that hall would look unholy by the time you were able to see it again.

“Yeah,” HIccup said. His hair was slightly mussed and once again darkened, so he must have spent some more time in the forge, then. “You…?”

“Thora,” You grumbled, “She’s got me kneading bread all day, though I have no idea why.“

You turned his words over in your head again, then you perked up with confusion and slight skepticism, “You said something about a pre-festival?”

“Ah, yeah.” Hiccup said before he asked cautiously, “She’s… trying to hire you, isn’t she?”

“That’s what she told me.” You grumbled, before sighing with defeat, letting your hands drop from the counter and giving way as your shoulders slumped, “She’s been lying to me, though, hasn’t she?”

You stepped back from the corner and looked up finally, just in time to catch as Hiccup’s eyes darted from your feet back to your face.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you begrudgingly took him in, back in his leathers, which looked almost polished, his underclothes darned and hair groomed if not clean, which looked almost unusual compared to his now-usual windswept look.

Though you had been making efforts to keep your mind off of it, then you were startlingly aware of his close proximity, taking careful, quick, unwilling measures of it in your mind, pulling details and etching them into permanent stone tablets and storing them away on dark-toned, foreign shelves.

You hadn’t had much time to get used to him again after your last real encounter.

The hug you shared- well, it had been, admittedly, private. It was a simple hug, though you loathed to share the experience with anyone else.

Hiccup pursed his lips, which was all you needed to know you’d been right. “She’s been… more focused on other things, so… Yeah.”

You grimaced, glancing away and nearly running a sticky hand over your head, before thinking better of it.

…Great. You’d been roped into more unpaid labor.

Hiccup looked at you oddly again.

You recalled something you’d heard earlier, and if he was right, then she was giving out your misshapen bread at the hall- maybe that was why. It was a mystery solved on his end.

You were probably not going to settle for a job at the hall, then, or risk the wrath of any others. You had to say that most of the bread that you tasted in the hall was poor. Unfortunately, though, you knew yours was worse.

“I don’t know how to make bread.” You confessed, glaring at the sacks of grains littering the corner of the hut and the sparse few bags slumped against the side of the counter table, melding to where table-leg-wall met wood flooring. “I don’t like making bread.”

You had half a mind to kick the sack, but you knew from experience that your toe would surely be stubbed, so you glared at the sizable boot-shaped indent in its side instead.

“...Does anyone like making bread?”

You turned your glare towards Hiccup, before reminding him, “Festival.”

You were sure at this point you’d age early, with how often you’d been straining your brows.

“There’s going to be one,” You stated more than asked.

“I-Ah, yeah.” Hiccup brought up his hand to rub at his chin, furrowing his brows, “I didn’t really- plan it, but, well, I think my Dad-Well, he sent a letter, and Gobber got ahold of it, and someone looked it over- there was something about expecting a warm welcome back, and harvest is soon, so-”

“Really?” You hummed, thinking.

Unlike your other Viking kin, holidays were few and far between- you had only two, Thorsday Thursday and Snoggletog, though you were sure you’d heard talk of more in the most recent years- wishful thinking, for the most part, but if it was true, and the people had been decided arbitrarily and not that it was time to celebrate, then you were sure there would be tons more to come.

“Right,” Hiccup said, crossing his arms and shrugging. “...Do you need any help?”

You gave him a look that you knew would encompass all of your skepticism at once, something you knew would say, ‘are you serious?’

It was… Maybe a bit too obvious that you did, however, you did have your reservations. Hiccup wasn’t a great cook at all- he could manage a very, very simple meal but you knew he always relied on the Hall’s meals to get by, and he was far from a baker.

At his responding second shrug you sighed and rolled your head back. Fine.

“C’mere,” You said, shuffling slightly to the side.

Awkwardly, Hiccup moved right up next to you- he didn’t take the side you’d expected, which startled you some, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle.

A glance back at Hiccup’s face told you he regretted it too, his expression stiff and his shoulders too, awkward as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“What? So I…” Hiccup reached past you, his arm brushing against yours as he touched the dough.

It would have been so easy for him to turn the rest of the way and press himself against your back- You sighed nearly shakily, pulling the dough in two, your arms jerking as the tough dough snapped in half. “I wouldn’t know.”

You handed the smaller half to him, then grimaced at it mournfully. “It’s too hard.”

“Is there… What do I do next?” Hiccup asked.

You grimaced. You’d run out of milk and other grains- most of the bags you had left were just oat and wheat. “More water and dough- that is all I’ve got.”

“Hmm,” Hiccup grimaced back. “Where’s the…”

You nudged the sack leaning closest to you with your foot, grains shifting stiffly as your boot made contact with the rough sack. You were careful not to jostle it too hard- though it was mostly limp, leaning against the floor and flat wooden table-wall, you’d cut it open by the top, and you knew one hard knock would be enough to cause whatever was left inside to spill across the floor.

“The water’s-...” You looked off to the side, craning your neck where, to your left, an array of spoons and bowls lay neatly mounted on one wall, a small, polite bucket of boiled water, nearly empty, sitting below it all, with what you knew was a wooden bowl floating inside, right where you’d left it. “I’ll get the water.”

You let out a short puff of air before walking around Hiccup and going for a bucket.

You paid no mind to him as you’d bent down and peered into it, where your shallow bowl had flipped upside down somehow and the wood had gone from a dry dark to an even darker, water-soaked, nearly jet-black.

Behind you, Hiccup grunted.

You heard a small thump and heard what sounded like fabric shifting- he was kneading the dough, then, you assumed- possibly. He was most probably unclean, yet your dough was trash dough anyways, so perhaps it was for the best.

You grabbed ahold of your bowl with a sigh, flipping it over with your fingers and scooping up a decent measure of water, holding it carefully yet casually in one hand as you stood up and turned back towards Hiccup who had, while you were not paying attention, grabbed ahold of your sack of flour.

Somehow he’d turned it upside down, the flap holding the sack closed slowly unfolding itself, the beginnings of a muffle rushing building, not unlike the sound sand made as it poured out from between your fingers.

“Wait, I-” You startled, stepping forwards and dropping the bowl, which fell to the ground with a clatter and a splash.

Before you could reach out in full, Hiccup’s shaking yet tight grip on the sack meant that with all the force of a Nightmare, a pile of flour exploded over both the floor and your dough piece, resting miserably and floppily over the counter.

Your eyes fluttered open with astonishment, the shifting of the skin over your face feeling thicker as you opened your mouth, a heavy cover of flour laying across it.

You blinked down hurriedly, tugging at your tunic and staring at the heavy layer of nearly edible silt along your front. As it thickened under water- well, it would be the worst trouble to clean.

Besides you, Hiccup coughed, eyes clenched shut, the flour’s sack mostly empty and lying abandoned against new wooden floors- you hope they’d already been sealed. They should have been, but there were a few lazy folk and you knew you’d be feeling standoffish if, well, they hadn’t been.

You let your arms fall limp as you glared at the large pile over the countertop, a building ticking feeling growing in your throat.

Once he settled, you glanced at Hiccup, a sour look on your face, then you glanced away, stubbornly flicking some flour over towards him with two fingers.

“This is your fault,” You said stubbornly, denying your own clumsy lack of foresight and tossing Hiccup into the spotlight.

“What- hey,” Hiccup began before you yourself began to cough.

You puffed, and right after a cloud of white and beige grain bloomed into the air and sank with the slowest abandon onto the already thickly covered countertop.

Maybe it was the poor timing, or the comical, nearly hysterical silence which followed, or maybe it was perhaps a sudden reaction and refusal to accept what had happened and to perhaps smother any awkward tension with laughter, but you’d had to clenched your lips shut then, stifling a sudden onslaught of laugher, something choking and joyful-ugly in your throat- sharp as if you’d just seen one of the Twins tipped by a Yak instead of vice versa or you’d heard a Terror spill a bucket of fish over someone else’s yet, and yet this felt much lighter.

In the silence you’d left behind, it was Hiccup who laughed, an awkward, unsure thing, flour splattered across his face like dry dirt.

You had to snort then, shoulders jerking, a hand coming up to your nose to wipe away the grainy powder there and staying there as the joy wracking your frame grew to be too much, causing you to nearly keel over.

You stumbled forward, almost tripping over onto Hiccup, your bent head knocking into his shoulder, his hands coming to grip your sides as he struggled to stay standing.

“Sor-sorry,” You said, your hands coming to grasp at his upper arms, your fingers curling around them as you lifted your head and smiled at him.

“I-I,” Hiccup started.

You weren’t sure you’d even had a moment with anyone that was so simple and sweet. Not even with Hiccup, when you were younger, snider and sillier.

He didn’t stop like you assumed he would, leaning closer and closer- your eyes were wide, so much so they felt almost watery as he leaned in, noses nearly knocking, blessing you with a stiff press, thin lips meeting yours with simple heat and hard intention.

Oh Hel.

You made a small noise in the back of your throat as he pulled back, your face blank but still reeling from the last press of lips, your hands flat against his arms instead of curled around them.

You were there and not, feeling strongly the heat of Hiccup’s palm nearing your back yet practically soaking in the wooden-ness of your limbs.

“I-I,” You tried, glancing to the side, then back at Hiccup, scrambling for even a thought, something to say- instead you just leaned closer, his breath curling at your lips, shaking.

“Do you…?” Hiccup tried, his head tilting slightly more to the side as he too leaned again, his eyes falling slightly lidded, mouth hanging slightly open and his lungs beat with heavy breath and heart.

He pulled you close again, nearly flush.

You pressed back into it with nearly a confused whine, though you were no less invested, tugging him closer to you, the both of you turning smoothly for the single instant you’d both been pressed together before you pulled apart again.

“What…?” Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his sleeves as your head fell to his shoulder, resting in the place where the edge of one leather pauldron dug into your forehead.

You matched his shifting, as his chin rested just barely over your shoulder-ensconced head, the both of you moving in some tight, quiet, easing dance, all stiff limbs and smooth, small movements.

It hadn’t been much, but it had been enough to leave you panting, your face hot enough and your eyes nearly burning as you struggled to come back to yourself.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #fem reader #female reader #toothless

11 notes · View notes

fizzydreamz · 8 months

Text

✎ Writing Masterlist ✎

Started: August 26th, 2023

Last Updated: April 4th, 2024

ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕝 𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕪

✼ Divine Oracles ✼

Raymond Brooks

Raeni Brooks

Mao-Mao

More coming soon..

✵ Astraverra ✵

Rylis

New Deity Alert!

More coming soon..

✝ Archangels ✝

Micheal

Gabriel

Beautiful Angels

There Wasn't Much Time

Uriel

It Was Nice To Be Loved

Haniel

Jophiel

More coming soon..

✵ Humans ✵

Zelda Whitlock

Did you know the stars could cry?

Extra Temple Guardians

Have Faith

More coming soon..

★ Mysticals ★

Anubis Thora

Not Really the Bad Guy

A Cold Heart

Did you know the stars could cry?

Ezekiel Ableson

About Him

Zachary Sullivan

Did you know the stars could cry?

More coming soon..

⋆ Vampires ⋆

Luther Ashdown

More coming soon..

✧ Demons ✧

Eugene

Enough About Purity

More coming soon..

𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕪

The Solar Court

War is Brewing

Runa Soulstone

Ancient Writings

More coming soon..

𝔽𝕦𝕟 𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 (ℝ𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕤, 𝕖𝕥𝕔)

An Unhealthy Addiction feat. Chuki Gatsha and Leona Kingschloar

Twisted Wonderland: Pirate Au feat. Raymond Brooks, Raeni Brooks and Zelda Whitlock

Twisted Wonderland: Prince! Azul Ideas PT 1.

Twisted Wonderland: Fantasy! Jade Ideas

Valentines Day Special: Deity Ocs x GN! Reader

"I'm ____ of course" trend (Oc Edition)

♥ All writing and rightful ocs belong to FizzyDreamz ♥

#masterlist #first time doing this #small writer #writing blog #oc masterlist #requests welcome #i'm nervous lol #FizzyDreamz Writing #follow if you like #worldbuilding

3 notes · View notes

fandomnerd9602 · 6 months

Text

Thora rushes into the house…

Thora: my love! Our village has been overrun by goblins and ghouls! Where’s Mjolnir?

Y/N: baby it’s Halloween. It’s just kids in costume

Thora: oh…so that’s why they were asking for treats. Can we get treats?

Y/N: sure but you’re the only treat I need

Thora giggles as she sits down in Y/N’s lap…

140 notes · View notes

geeky-introvert · 4 years

Text

I Wish I Could Quit You II . Modern Hvitserk X Divorced OC

Summary: After that one drunken night together Erica tries to forget about Hvitserk but then she finds out about something and Thora seems to have her suspicion something was up….Second and final part.

Word count: 2020

Warning: Light angst and fluff.

Tag list: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish @igetcarriedawaywithyou @laketaj24 @darlingp @tephi101 @youbloodymadgenius @lordsexmachine @wonderlandofsu @sparklemichele @hecohansen31 @quiche-pocket

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

Over again she told herself she’ll forget about what happened on that drunken night between her and Hvitserk, for weeks she did, but the damage had already been done and now her feelings for him were back again. She hated it and wished she didn’t still love the idiot.

Nothing was spoken about it again and Hvitserk respected that, though when they did see each other when he would pick up their son for the weekend she could tell there was much he wanted to say but chose to not say anything. Perhaps they should talk but she didn’t think it’ll solve anything, and instead just stir things up more between them.

No one, not even her best friend Lizzie, knew about what happened and that’s the way she wanted to keep it. However when she saw Thora with Hvitserk to pick up Olaf it was the way she looked at Erica that told her that she might’ve thought something happened but like Hvitserk chose to not speak of it.

It could’ve continued like this, it should’ve, but it all came crashing down when she started to feel sick in the mornings and she had a horrible suspicion what it could be. Right away she went out and brought a pregnancy test, and her fear had come true.

She was pregnant.

While Olaf was at prep school she sat at the table and started at the positive test and her phone with Hvitserk’s number up. She couldn’t keep this from him, he had the right to know. He was indeed the father there was no other man in her life. Sighing she swallowed her nerves and called him, listening to the tone ring for a moment before it was answered.

Though it wasn’t Hvitserk, but Thora.

Right away she wanted to know why she was calling him and Erica felt at a loss for words. She explained she needed to talk to him about something important, but Thora didn’t even like the sound of that and continued to ask her what she wanted but Erica didn’t tell her.

Instead she said to not worry about it and hung up. Hvitserk must’ve left his mobile at home. Just when she thought things might be alright, that just got worse.

She couldn’t have been surprised that Thora even turned up at her place, looking like she was about to crumble under her own weight. Erica told herself that Thora didn’t deserve this, she was a good person, and had to know what happened.

Inviting her inside she made her coffee and they both sat at the table together.

“You and Hvitserk slept together, right?” It was her first question at the table.

“Yes.” Erica answered softly.

“A month ago, when Hvitserk came home the next day? He told me he passed out at his brothers house but...he hasn’t been himself since.”

Sighing Erica tapped her fingers around the mug she held. “It was a drunken night and I regret it. I wish it didn’t happen but I can’t take it back. I was calling him because….shit, I wanted him to know first but…”

Getting out the pregnancy test she pushed it towards Thora a little as she stared at it. “It’s positive. I never planned on this happening but it’s now happening. I’m sorry, Thora. I never meant to hurt you, you’re a good person and I have no hate towards you. But you have every reason to hate me.”

Thora stared at the test for what felt like a long while as the silence lingers. Erica didn’t know what was exactly going through her mind and allowed her the silence until she was ready.

“Hvitserk needs to know.” She finally said and Erica nodded. “I feel like I should hate you but...I don’t feel it. You’re his ex, it was his own doing for your divorce and you’re the mother of his child, guess I just respect you because of this.”

Her words weren’t expected but Erica was silently grateful this wasn’t going to turn into a bloodbath between them. Guess it was alright, for now at least. Eventually Hvitserk did come to her place. Olaf was very excited to see his father so unexpectedly and Erica allowed for father and son to have a moment together before she asked to talk to him at the table while Olaf played with his toys.

“Is everything alright?” He asked sitting near her.

“I’m pregnant.” She just said it right up front to him seeing so meaning to delay.

He was quiet for a bit, letting it settle in.

“Pregnant? It’s….it’s mine?”

“Yeah.” She nodded at him. “Thora knows. I tried to call you but you left you mobile at home. She answered and came over. She says she’ll support you through this, but you don’t need to keep anything from her anymore.”

Hvitserk looked guilty knowing he had cheated on Thora and lied to her, and now that she knew about everything and that Erica was carrying his child made him feel strange, yet excited. He’s wanted more children Erica knew this, everyone did. Since marrying Thora they have tried and nothing happened for them.

“I never meant for this to happen, but….I’m happy.” He answered smiling softly.

“I know, I never meant for this as well, but I do feel a bit happy as well.”

Reaching over he took her hand and caressed his thumb over the top of her own. She held back, giving him a soft smile in return. Least she had support through this.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The day of the first ultrasound came and of course Hvitserk wanted to be there. Since Thora wanted to support him she asked if she could be there as well and Erica of course allowed it, saying she didn’t need to ask permission. Olaf was being looked after by her mother during it. At this point everything knew what was going on. Erica wanted to keep this as less awkward as possible between them than it already was.

As the ultrasound was performed they all looked at the screen together, waiting.

She remembered the first one with Olaf and how happy she was. Now it was happening again, and she was happy to be having another baby, even though it was with Hvitserk.

For a moment the doctor searched around, brows furrowing together a little as she looked like she was checking something which made Erica a little anxious.

“Is something wrong?”

The doctor shook her head. “This is your first ultrasound, right?”

“Y-yeah, I’m about ten weeks in. Why?”

She expected the worst but the nurse smiled then. “Well, this will be a surprise for you. Look here. One, two, three.” She pointed to the small dots on the screen before bringing up the heart beat, or heart beats to be exact.

“Wait, three? You mean it’s triplets?” She asked full of shock.

“Triplets?!” Hvitserk was beaming brightly as he looked at the screen. “Three babies?”

“Congratulations.” She tells us as both Hvitserk and Erica stared at the screen happily, admiring the creations even though they were just small dots, but they were there.

They were so lost in the moment together, even the doctor, that none of them noticed the door opening and closing, and Thora to be gone.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Olaf! It’s time for your bath soon!” Erica called out just as she was quickly tidying up around. There was a storm rolling in and she would like to get him bathed and into his pajamas before it hits and try to settle him for bed.

“Mama! I made a list!” He came running around towards her with a piece of paper, scribbled with many names and ideas. Even since she told him he was going to be a big brother to three siblings he was so excited.

“These are beautiful names and ideas, my boy. We have time to think about it all. Now come on, let’s get you in the bathtub.”

Right then the front door was knocked at and she answered it to be greeted by Hvitserk, wet from the rain and with a large duffel bag. This was an unexpected surprise indeed.

“Papa!” Olaf was so happy to see him as she ran up to hug him.

“Come on little man, I’m wet!” Hvitserk chuckled but she saw it was forced. Something happened and she of course allowed him inside.

Nothing was really said between them and carried on as if this were normal, all for the sake of Olaf. Hvitserk helped bathe him and then with dinner before reading him a story in bed. Erica finished up the dishes as he did this and the second she was done he had come out from his room after he fell asleep and sat at the table silently. She joined him.

“What happened?” She wanted to know.

“Thora and I are getting divorced.” Hearing this made her close her eyes and sigh. “She thought she could be supportive but it’s all too much for her to handle. We talked, and she said she can’t be a part of it all anymore. The stress is too much. I would’ve called you but my mobile is dead. I figured you would use some help here anyway.”

So now he was getting divorced a second time.

“I feel bad for doing this to her. She’s a good woman, she deserves a good life.”

“Yeah, I agree, which is why we both agreed to a divorce.” Hvitserk looked at her and touched her hand. “I know this is a lot for me to ask, but we’re having triplets. You could use all the help you can get and....I would like to be there as much as I can, for Olaf, you and through this pregnancy. I missed out a lot for Olaf, I would like to try and make up for it.”

“Are you asking if you can stay?” It was bold of him. “I mean...Isn’t that strange?”

“It doesn’t have to be. I get it, after everything you have every right to say no and kick me out right now. I don’t deserve a chance but I’m asking for one. I’ve fucked up two marriages now but maybe we can work on us again. It’s a lot to ask but it’s what I want, to be here for you, Olaf and the triplets to come, as a family.”

From the start it’s all Erica wanted but never was game to give Hvitserk another chance after already giving him so many before divorcing him. Having him back in her life won’t be easy she knew that, and was aware that she might be judged by her parents and her friend Lizzie as well who already gave her a lecture about her ‘stupid drunken mistake’ that very night.

But this was her life, her family, no one else should tell her what to do or how to think.

“It won’t be easy.” She finally spoke. “My trust for you is running on broken thin ice, we’ll need to work on that again. I don’t want any more fuck ups from you, I mean it. The second you do something stupid I won’t have you in this house, got it?”

He nodded at her, understanding what she was saying. “So I can stay?”

Standing up she came around the table just as he stood up as well. The two then hugged one another for a long while, his warm lips kissing her forehead and sighing softly in relief that she was willing to give him one more chance, not that he deserved it he told himself.

Their love was always there, even after everything and all these years. Erica was willing to let him prove himself once more, to show he was committed to making it work.

#vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk x thora #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk lothbrok #cheating #angst #fandom #fanfiction #slight fluff #modern

58 notes · View notes

thora-jane · 1 year

Note

I have to ask: what are your thoughts on Venom!Matt Murdock??👀

Oh man I have thoughts lemme tell ya but I’m not about to make this an nsfw blog so we’re keeping this simple.

So in this world, Matt doesn’t have his powers, but he has the symbiote. Which I figure is basically his powers, but with a voice. Now this would make the whole “Living with Catholic Guilt” thing a whole lot funnier, and he’d definitely still have devilish imagery in his whole stupor hero shtick. It’d take less time for Foggy to learn about Matt’s Problem, and he’d have to call in a few favors from the Nelson Family Butchery.

Otherwise… it’d make his feelings for you more interesting? He’d be talking to you, making you smile and talking with you for hours, and then the moment you’d leave he’d hear-

“We should ask her out.” Matt nearly dropped his cane as he made his way down the street.

“What? No are you crazy?” Thankfully he was in New York City, and a blind man talking to himself was hardly worth staring at on the sidewalk.

“We are a catch. We should ask her out.”

“We are not asking her out and I am not doing anything.” he asserted, straightening his posture

“Oh come on Matt, it would be fun. I like her.”

“That’s all well and good but there’s no way-”

“Matt! You forgot your files!” You called out after him before you caught up, “Were you talking to someone?”

“What? No I was just…I was just thinking outloud. Thank you, by the way, I totally forgot these.” He held out one hand to take the files, but before he could process his movements, he felt Venom jerk his other hand out and grab yours.

“Matt?” You asked, anxious grin spreading on your face, “Is everything ok?”

“Let us get you coffee,” he blurted.

“Us?” You smiled, looking down at his hand.

“Sorry, not us. Me. Let me get you coffee. As a date. A coffee date. You can say no-”

“Yes.” you answered almost immediately. “I’d love to!” You chuckled, looking back up to the hint of blush across Matt’s cheeks, “You know you can let go of my hand now, right?”

“Of course!” He stuttered, “Yes! Yes. Sorry. I mean thank you. I mean…coffee. We can’t wait.”

“We?” You asked again, smile insisting but brow furrowing.

“Me. Me. I can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” You smiled.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #thora’s trying her best #bby beloved #Venom!Matt

88 notes · View notes

scandinavianfairytale · 2 years

Text

What's left unsaid

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Warnings: Talking about breaking up, they are idiots, both think they have unrequited feelings, soft & vulnerable Ivar, feelings, everyone sees it but them 😅

"Fuck." Ivar whispered as he stared at his phone before getting up and walking outside, staring at the ground. The whole table stared at him, but you were the only one that got up and followed him out. It was an early autumn but the air was already crispy cold, the leaves have already fallen off the trees and the Christmas decorations were already being placed all over the city. Neither you or Ivar understood the obsession with Christmas, but you still loved it - just not so early, when it felt as though summer just ended yesterday.

"Are you okay? What happened?" You came from behind him, tracing your hand over his back as you walked to stand in front of him. He refused to look at you.

"Ivar..." You softly asked. He didn't say anything, only offered you his phone with the text from Freydis still opened. You glanced at him again to confirm it was okay to read it, but you still didn't receive any signs from the man in front of you, just a blank expression.

I don't know how much longer I can actually do this with you Ivar...it always feels like you're incapable of experiencing emotions. We've been together for almost 6 months now and you're still unable to say that you love me and at first I found it charming to not put your love out there for grabs, but I'm human and I also need to hear those words. Unless you plan on changing your ways I think it's better if we end it here.

"Oh..." Was all you could reply and as you glanced up you realized Ivar has been studying you.

"I don't think I can say those words. I don't even think I'm capable of it." His eyebrows knit together as he said those words out loud. In the next second your arms went around him and you pulled him tightly to you. He buried his face in your neck and closed his eyes.

"Never say that again." You finally said and stepped away from him. "Ivar, you have so much love in your heart..." You touched his cheek. "I see it when you curse out your brothers and when we go to the shelter. Or when you took care of me when I was sick. And the too many times that you helped your estranged father with his business. But mostly I see it when you close yourself to your feelings." You put your hand over his heart. "I can see how much it pains you when others suffer. You don't always have to put the name to love to identify it."

He covered your hand with his and finally met your eyes again.

"I know you were hurt so many times by too many people. You didn't deserve it." Your eyes softened as he stared at you. Your heart leapt into your throat, you wanted to say those words, but suddenly the necklace from Erik became noticeable around your neck. Ivar waited for you to continue, he could feel his heartbeat at the tips of his fingers. You could feel it too.

"But Freydis loves you. And I think you love her too, but unless you plan on being honest and open, this will be a reoccurring theme in your relationships."

Both of you released your hands and swallowed down your feelings, finally feeling the cold air surrounding you.

"We should get back inside, you're shivering." Ivar nodded as the few seconds of silence passed.

"They're both idiots." Torvi commented as the table looked at the exchange going on outside.

"Yup." Thora agreed, visibly depleted as your hands disentangled. "We should tell them."

"No one is telling anyone anything. They need to figure it out on their own." Ubbe determined. They all resumed their natural positions as they saw you turn to walk back to the brunch place.

"Everything alright?" Torvi asked as you sat back down.

"Yeah, Ivar has an important text to write." You smiled and Ivar glanced at his phone in his hand.

"I think I'm going to do this in person. Have a good one." He said and walked back out. Hvitsverk grabbed his leftovers and pilled them on his plate, while you absentmindedly ran your fingers over the necklace.

"What? He's not going to eat them and we were taught not to waste food." He justified as he felt the judgemental eyes of his girlfriend.

"Is everything alright?" Torvi brought you back to reality as she touched your shoulder. A smile crossed your face and you nodded.

"Of course. Let's eat and then we can go grab a hot tea before going back to the 'office'."

Thank you for reading! 💙😊

I think I'm getting there - to some semblance of the overall story (which doesn't mean it'll make sense in the end 😅). They're still in the "s/he loves another and not me" even though by now it's visible to everyone but them, like I said - they're idiots 😅💙

Anyway I just came back from my first solo trip & my first visit to Madrid & have been listening to this 👇 song since then 😍

youtube

#alex hogh andersen #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #modern ivar #vikings #modern vikings #fanfic #short story #what's left unsaid

154 notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 9 months

Text

All These Years [Part 14: "Day Late Friend"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 5.6k

a/n: I feel like it goes without saying that this one will probably hurt. There's like a tiny bit of comfort in here, but I think everything else vastly outweighs that. Feedback is always appreciated!

Sitting on the countertop in your kitchen, you were hunched over your phone scrolling through this morning's current news articles. You were exhausted and your entire body ached from having spent last night at Karen’s place sleeping on her couch because your apartment was entirely empty now.

Most of the furniture you’d had at your apartment had been donated because you did not want to deal with the hassle of moving all of it across the country. It’s not like you couldn’t afford new things with the massive pay increase you were getting with your new position, even if your new LA apartment’s rent was a bit more expensive than your Hell’s Kitchen apartment had been. Though you’d had movers pack up a handful of your items the other day, along with whatever you had packed in boxes that you hadn’t kept in the luggage bag you were going to check with you on the plane when you left. Your things that were being transported across the country via moving truck were supposed to be at your new place by this afternoon.

Because today was the day. You had a very long flight to LA soon that you were about to catch–a little over a six hour flight to be exact. You’d ordered a car to take you to the airport just a few minutes ago and now all you were doing was waiting, trying to kill time while you ignored the sinking feeling in your gut. You were going to miss New York and the friends you had here–including Matt, even if you were still incredibly pissed at him. But you'd promised yourself repeatedly that you would make this move no matter what because you needed it.

Last night you’d spent the evening at Karen’s, though Foggy had come over for a bit while you’d been there. But you’d made it clear that you wanted neither of them to invite Matt, still not wanting to see him after what had happened at Josie’s. Foggy had tried to convince you otherwise a few times, urging you to tell Matt it was your last night here because he said Matt had been needing to talk with you. Foggy was practically begging you to give Matt a chance to say goodbye, but you just couldn’t do it. After hearing him just days ago talking about the idea of marrying Erica, and then being so cruel to you in return when you’d pointed out how little he’d thought it all out– especially after everything he’d put you through knowing you’d always been in love with him–you felt he didn’t deserve your time. Why put yourself through more heartache for his sake? You weren’t planning to see him ever again anyway. You figured it was time to look out for yourself.

The whole evening you figured Foggy was shooting Matt texts on and off with the way he’d been on his phone. You’d done your best to ignore it, though part of you felt bad for not offering Matt a chance to see you one last time. He’d probably wanted to apologize for his behavior at Josie’s the other night, but what did it matter? You always caved when it came to Matt; you knew you'd ultimately accept whatever apology he gave you. You loved him–sometimes without a care to yourself and your own feelings.

And that had to change.

With a sigh you opened another news article, your eyes briefly flicking up towards the time on your phone. It felt like time was dragging on this morning. Your ride to the airport was still another fifteen minutes away and you internally cringed. Admittedly you were getting anxious sitting here with nothing to do but wait and sit in your thoughts.

A series of frantic knocks came from your apartment door, the noise breaking through the silence in your apartment and drawing your attention from your phone. You frowned, turning and looking at your door all the way across the apartment from where you sat in the kitchen. Who would be stopping by your place right now? Unless it was your overly friendly neighbor next door, the elderly Mrs. Meyers. You’d already told her goodbye three times yesterday, but maybe she’d somehow forgotten again.

Sliding off the counter, you slipped your phone into your jean pocket and made your way over. But the moment you heard Matt’s voice desperately calling your name from the other side of it, you immediately froze on the spot.

What the hell was Matt doing here?

A mix of emotions immediately flooded you–anger, sadness, heartache, guilt. But worst of all of them was that stupid little sliver of hope. You flinched when you heard him call your name through your door again.

"Please," he begged. "I know you're in there. Just let me talk to you. Please. Give me five minutes. Just–just five minutes, please ."

This wasn't exactly the way you wanted to leave New York. That familiar ache was in your chest again and the feel of it hurt . Arms crossing over your chest, you nervously hugged yourself tight as if that would somehow help keep that ache from spreading through the rest of you.

"Matt, I don't want–"

" Please ," he pleaded.

His voice had sounded so small and weak from behind the door, the sound of it causing your eyes to close. Your hands gripped the fabric of your shirt as you fought the urge to cry. Something you'd become all too familiar with when it came to Matt.

"There's something you need to know," Matt tried again, his voice filled with emotion. "And I don't–don't want to say it to your door."

With a shuddering exhale, you opened your eyes and tried to brace yourself for whatever was about to happen. Crossing the rest of the way to the door, you gradually unlocked it before pulling it open. Matt stepped back instantly, as if he’d been pressed up against it waiting for you. You were surprised to see his glasses were hanging from the collar of his dark green tee-shirt. Matt always wore them around you lately, so it had been jarring to be immediately greeted with the open vulnerability on his face and in his eyes.

"You have five minutes," you told him, stepping aside and waving him in.

And really he did, because your car would be here in probably ten minutes.

Matt made his way inside, a pained look on his face as he stepped past you. You grit your teeth together as you shut the door behind him, turning and squaring your shoulders as you faced him. You didn’t know what to expect, but you had a strong feeling whatever it was he needed to tell you was going to leave you in tears.

Matt said your name again, that vulnerable look on his face. "I am so unbelievably sorry about the other night," he began in a rush, emotion heavy in his voice as he spoke. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, it was wrong. I was out of line. You had every reason to yell at me like that. I deserved it–I deserve worse . I had–had no idea how much you were hurting and how awful what I’d said really was. It was insensitive and stupid of me and I–"

He abruptly cut off, his brows drawing together in what looked like confusion. Your own face slowly contorted into a look of confusion itself at the words in his apology. How could he not know how much you'd been hurting? He knew you loved him, of course him saying those things had been hurtful, especially considering what he’d told you right before about Erica.

Matt's head snapped to the side and your eyes narrowed as you watched him, his curious movements interrupting your thoughts. You watched as his head darted around a few times, his eyes beginning to water as you saw them scanning your completely empty apartment.

"No," he whispered, his watery gaze returning to you. "No, don't tell me your things are gone already? You've already packed?"

"I'm moving, Matt," you stated flatly, trying to ignore the way that look on his face was affecting you. "Of course my things are gone."

"When?" he pressed. "Saturday? Sunday?"

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat at the blatant look of panic quickly crossing his features. Why did he look so scared?

"In ten minutes," you answered, tone softening. "I have a car coming to bring me to the airport soon. My flight is at eleven."

Surprise briefly flickered across his face, his dark brows rising up onto his forehead as his lips parted. But then you watched as his face completely crumpled in on itself, tears streaming out of his eyes almost instantly. You stood there in stunned silence, unsure what to make of his reaction. You knew he would be upset about you leaving, but the only time you’d seen Matt cry like this before was when Elektra had broken his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step closer to you. “I thought I had more time. I’m sorry.”

With the sight of Matt standing there and crying before you, you couldn’t fight the tears that had begun to slowly burn in your own eyes. You wiped a hand at them, trying to erase them before they could fall.

“Foggy said he told you I was leaving,” you pointed out. “You knew I was leaving, Matt. That I had taken a new position and was moving.”

He nodded solemnly, sniffling hard. “He did, but he never told me the day. Just told me I had to see you this morning. And now I–”

You watched in utter confusion as Matt’s sentence broke off right in the middle, his hands coming up as he rubbed the heels of them against his eyes. What sort of a goodbye apology was this?

“I was wrong all this time,” Matt began, his hands still rubbing at his eyes as if that would make the tears stop. “It’s all my fault. I have spent the past few days going back and trying to make sense of it all– everything . For years. Just–just all of it. Every moment.”

Your brows drew further together on your forehead as you stared back at him. What the hell was he talking about? Why had he come barging over to your apartment spouting nonsense? Why was he so emotional?

“I thought it was Foggy,” he said firmly, his hands lowering from his face. His sightless eyes locked on you as he continued. “I always thought it was Foggy .”

“What?” you asked him. “What’re you talking about, Matt? You thought what was Foggy?”

“The friend you were in love with,” he replied earnestly. “The one you’d told me about a few times at Columbia. The one I knew you were hurting over, that you hadn’t ever gotten over in years . Who you’d cried about that night in the alley when I’d found you drunk and hurting. I always thought it was Foggy .” He winced, shaking his head as he whispered, “I never thought that it was–that it even could be me .”

His words hit you hard and you stood there in absolute shock–Matt thought you’d loved Foggy all of this time? Your mouth fell open as you gaped at him, your brain only wondering one thing.

“ How ?” you asked in confusion. “With what you can do, how did you think I was in love with Foggy?”

Tears were still falling down his cheeks as he took another step towards you, one hand reaching up to wipe them away as his eyes never left you. You still stood frozen on the spot, your arms even further tightening around your chest in response to everything he was telling you. Because what did that mean ? Why had he come here to tell you this? Why now?

“I–I misread so much,” he told you. “When I first ran into you in the library, I picked up on your physical attraction to me–all the telltale signs. And when you gave me your number and agreed to meet up, I thought it meant you liked me. But then that night you came over and Foggy was there–you both hit it off. I tried to give it some time, hoping I was wrong somehow, but it felt like your body was reacting to him . Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me.” Matt shot you a sad, watery smile. “I was still very new to understanding women and relationships, I’ll be honest. I was fresh out of a Catholic orphanage when I went to Columbia. Besides picking up on signs of obvious physical attraction, I’ll admit, I was clueless. And I–I clearly read you very wrong the whole time.”

“But–” you began, pausing to piece together everything yourself. “But Matt, how did you not know? I tried to flirt with you that night when I first came over to your apartment with Foggy and Karen for dinner. It was a terrible attempt but I thought it was pretty fucking obvious. I mean, for fuck’s sake, you heard me at Clinton Church for weeks crying over you. You , Matt, not Foggy. How did it never suddenly click ? How did you never realize you’d gotten it wrong?”

“Because Elektra had often put it into my head that you were always staring at Foggy like you were in love with him,” Matt answered vehemently. “And it’s not like I can see otherwise. I trusted her–and I realized far too late that I shouldn’t have, but I did. Her words about you being in love with him only further proved in my mind that it was true.” His tongue darted out nervously to wet his lips before he continued on in an emotional rush. “And that night you came over more than a year ago, I wasn’t sure if you were flirting with me or not. Something had seemed off with you that day. There was a–a part of me that hoped you were, but I couldn’t be sure. I tried to reach out to you, but you’d distanced yourself from me for weeks after. I figured I’d misunderstood the situation. And…by the time everything happened with Midland Circle, I’d thought you’d already admitted to me that night you found out about my secret that you loved Foggy all this time.” He shrugged weakly, his face further falling. “After that night, I never bothered to question it again.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest so hard you swore you could feel it. Each and every sharp and thundering pound of it. So Matt hadn’t known you’d loved him all this time. Which meant he’d found out when you’d yelled at him the other night at Josie’s. Eyes immediately going wide, you sucked in a breath.

“Holy shit, so you didn’t–” you paused, taking a mortified step back from him, “–you didn’t know? And I–I blurted it out the other night?”

The sad, watery smile was still on Matt’s face as he nodded slowly in response. Something like a strangled cry fell out of you as you spun on your heel, burying your face in your hands. Embarrassment burned through your entire being. Shrinking in on yourself, you wished the floor would just swallow you whole.

“Why’re you coming here to tell me this?” you cried out, that sharp pain in your chest slamming right into you. “Fuck, this is so incredibly embarrassing , Matt. I thought you knew !”

“Sweetheart,” Matt said softly.

You stiffened at the term of endearment. He’d called you that once before, that night you’d found out about his big secret. The sound of his footsteps grew nearer but you kept your face buried in your hands.

“I came here to tell you that I have wanted you for years,” he whispered, his voice sounding like it was coming from just behind you. “The first time I stumbled across you it wasn’t at the library–I stumbled on you almost two months before that. On campus. Someone had dropped all their books and papers on the sidewalk and you’d stopped to help them. And I–I don’t know what it was about you, but I couldn’t get your voice and your scent and your kind words out of my head.”

Matt’s hand landed on your shoulder, the touch incredibly light and barely there. It felt like he wasn’t sure he could touch you. As he continued on, your heart only further beat wildly against your ribcage at his words.

“I spent weeks trying to run into you again,” Matt confessed. “Trying to just find you again–any trace of you at all. I couldn’t let you go. That day I met you in the library felt like sheer luck. I had been so stunned myself that you’d appeared to me finally that I’d accidentally ran into you.”

Your hands slowly lowered from your face, your head gradually turning over your shoulder to look at Matt just behind you. That sad smile crossed his lips again when he realized you were looking at him, tears still glistening in his eyes.

“What’s that mean, Matt?” you whispered.

“It means I’ve always wanted you,” he replied just as softly. “You’re the only one I’ve always wanted.”

Goosebumps rose along your arms at his admission. How long had you desperately hoped for him to say those words to you? How many times had you pictured this moment in your head? Wondered what it would feel like for him to want you back?

“What about Elektra?” you whispered. “And Erica? You were just telling me you wanted to marry her, Matt. How the hell do you say that and then come here and tell me this?”

“I fell hard for Elektra in college,” Matt admitted. “I thought maybe I loved her. She was the only one who knew about that other side of me. What I could do. I thought she–she got me. Understood me. But my feelings for you had never gone away, and I thought maybe I could try to make them disappear with her. But it turned out she didn’t understand me at all, and clearly she saw how much you meant to me because she fed me lies about you loving Foggy.”

“What about the second time you were with her?” you asked, cringing at the question.

Matt immediately shook his head, his sightless eyes still focused along your face. His hand gripped your shoulder a little firmer.

“I was never with her when she came back,” he assured you. “ Never .”

“And Erica?” you pressed.

Your back was still turned towards him as he spoke, but you saw the frown settle onto his face. It felt like your heart was in your throat as you waited for him to explain.

“You had been with Adam for awhile,” he began, hurt clear in his tone. “So I thought maybe you’d finally gotten over Foggy, because you seemed happy with him. And as much as it broke my heart seeing you with Adam, I was truly happy for you. He was a nice guy. He treated you well. And as much as I wished it could’ve been me in his place, I was glad that you weren’t hurting anymore–or at least, I thought you weren’t.” He sighed, his eyes dropping down to the floor as he released your shoulder, his hand running across his forehead instead. “But I knew I’d never have you and I was lonely. That’s when Marci introduced me to Erica and we–we got along. Eventually I developed feelings for her–nothing that even remotely compared to how I feel about you, but I figured I’d never find that again. And things were…admittedly convenient ,” he said with a shameful grimace. “She was often working so she had no clue about me being out most nights as Daredevil. Which meant for once, Daredevil wasn’t an issue in my love life.”

“But Matt–”

“Look, I know it was stupid to think I could continue in a relationship like that, but I was hopeful,” he confessed. “I was lonely and I was hopeful that I’d have time to make things work with a long engagement. And as much as I–I wanted you , I was positive I’d never have you. And what I had with Erica seemed like it–it wouldn’t be so bad as an alternative. So I’d been thinking about proposing and that was why I was hoping to talk to you and Fog.” He shrugged a shoulder lightly, a deep frown on his face. “I was hoping both of you would help me look at things realistically, because you’re both my best friends. You know me.”

Your eyes narrowed at Matt as you finally turned partially towards him. “Then why did you get angry at me when I told you how ridiculous it all sounded?” you asked.

“Because I could feel your anger,” he whispered. “And I didn’t understand it. I got defensive because it–it hurt hearing you say those things to me. Because I have–have loved you for so long and you were the one I wanted and couldn’t have. But I shouldn't have said those things to you in anger and I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I was hurt and I was stupid and I reacted without thinking.” His lips pressed together, the tears that had been glistening in his eyes quickly spilling forth. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so much over the years.”

You were struck speechless, still stuck on the part where he’d admitted to loving you. Matt was in love with you?

“I ended things with her, too,” he continued, the tears still falling. “The first chance I got after that night. Because I want you.”

Almost as if in slow motion you watched as Matt’s hand reached up, very carefully reaching out to gently cradle your cheek in the palm of his hand. You could feel your entire body trembling at the affectionate touch–it was so far from friendly. It reminded you of the night you’d been with him after graduation when he’d touched you so similarly. You understood now what had almost happened that night, and the fact that nothing had only added to the heartache. Because you were quickly realizing that you both had come close to admitting the truth so many times before only to end up here–with years wasted and hearts hurting.

“I want you,” he breathed out, his thumb lightly stroking your cheek. His eyes were slowly scanning your face, as if somehow committing you to memory in his own way as his lips pulled into that sad smile again. "I've only ever wanted you, sweetheart."

A sob fell out of you as you turned fully towards him, your arms immediately wrapping around his waist and drawing yourself into him without a thought. Matt was quick to encircle his own arms around your shoulders, holding you tightly to the front of himself as you felt him burying his face into your hair. Your fingers clawed at his back through the thin fabric of his tee-shirt, desperately holding onto him as you cried. From the pocket of your jeans, you heard your phone alert you to a notification you'd received. No doubt it was the car you’d ordered finally arriving, ready to bring you to the airport. That thought only had you clinging tighter to Matt as you sobbed against his chest.

“Why did you wait so long?” you cried out, face buried into his chest. “Why now, Matt? Why did you have to tell me all of this when I'm leaving?”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, voice breaking on the apology. “I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes snapped shut tight, tears soaking the front of his shirt. Your nails were digging into Matt’s back, clawing at him with how hopelessly you tried to hang on to him.

“I–I want to ask you to stay,” he whispered, his face still buried into your hair where his tears were dampening the strands. “I want to beg you to. Tell you I would do anything to keep you here–because I would. Happily. Ten times over. But I know I have no right to ask that of you, sweetheart.”

"You're right," you breathed out, your body molding itself to the front of him. "You don't."

You hated that you'd found out Matt had loved you all of this time at this exact moment instead of weeks ago–months or even years ago when things could have gone differently. Because you had already accepted that job and you'd already gotten that apartment. You'd repeatedly told yourself you were leaving and doing this for yourself no matter what. And Matt coming here telling you all of this right now, as much as it made you want him even more because you now knew your feelings were returned, didn't change the fact that he had just ended a relationship with a woman he had considered proposing to only days ago. That he'd let you go on believing he was dead for months not that long ago–and that hadn't stopped hurting even if you'd forgiven him for it. And it certainly didn't change the fact that you had cried over him for years.

You'd needed a change. You needed time away. You needed space to figure things out for yourself without the constant heartache.

"Matt, I–" your eyes tightened further closed, tears still coming as your fingers desperately gripped his back, "–I have to do this. I have to move to LA. For me.” Your face remained pressed to his firm chest as you spoke, pausing just long enough to breathe in that familiar clean scent of him. You hoped you’d never truly forget it. “You just ended things with Erica days ago,” you continued quietly. “This–this isn't how I would want to start things with you. It's not right."

You heard him inhale a shuddering breath, his mouth beside your ear as he did. His hands slid down to wrap firmly around your back, his palms pressing you securely to himself. You could feel his own fingers digging into you through your shirt, his own desperate need to keep you close only making your tears fall faster. In that moment, you knew he’d been hurting just as much as you always had been. Somehow you could feel it in the tears of his that fell, mingling with yours along your skin, and the sharp, ragged breaths he was clearly trying to control.

"I know," he whispered, voice strained. “You deserve better.”

Reluctantly you slowly pulled away from him, your heart twisting in your chest at the absolute broken state of Matt before you. With a loud sniffle, you pulled your phone from your pocket and saw that you did have a notification for the car you’d called. You responded to it, pressing your trembling lips firmly together as you tried to compose yourself. You needed to leave or you’d miss your flight.

“The car is here to take me to the airport,” you whispered, slipping your phone back into your pocket before glancing up at Matt. “I–I have to go, Matty.”

Matt nodded, his hands roughly wiping at his eyes. “Can I walk you out?” he asked. “Please?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I just need to grab my bag.”

Walking past Matt, you made your way towards your kitchen to the lone piece of luggage that was sitting right where you’d left it. You slid the handle of it out before turning and shuffling your way across the room and back over to Matt. He was clearly trying to take the moment to compose himself, but he didn’t seem very successful with the way his tears were still falling. When you neared him, he timidly held out a hand towards you and you paused, staring at it as your heart unsteadily beat in your chest. A second later you hesitantly reached out, slipping your hand into his. Matt’s face momentarily lit up as he tried to smile at you, his large hand reassuringly squeezing yours.

You sent him a small smile in return before you guided the pair of you out of your apartment, leaving it for the last time. The sound of the door closing behind you both was louder and harsher than usual as you led Matt down the hall and towards the elevators. Neither of you said anything as you waited for it to reach your floor, and neither of you said anything as you both stepped inside. Though as the elevator doors slid closed, Matt’s fingers entwined with yours, as if he was finding any way he could to hold onto you just a bit tighter for just a bit longer. Somehow that hurt, too.

Gradually the elevator lowered until it reached the lobby and you stepped out, your stomach roiling with nerves at the final goodbye that you could feel fast approaching. In silence you led him over towards the car that was waiting for you, politely greeting the driver who took your bag from you and stowed it in the trunk of the car. As they were getting back into the driver’s side, you finally turned and focused on Matt, your hand still enjoined with his.

The sight of him alone had your heart breaking–he still looked just as broken as that day you’d found him crying over Elektra. Except now it was because of you . Instantly the tears began streaming down your face and briefly you wondered how the hell you had a single tear left to shed after all of this time. Matt tried his best to smile at you, his other hand reaching up to wipe away your tears as they continued to fall.

“Please don’t cry, sweetheart,” Matt said gently, the calloused pad of his thumb still wiping away the wetness on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I’m sorry for leaving you, Matty. For hurting you.”

Matt shook his head, that sad smile still lingering along his lips. “Don’t apologize,” he whispered. “If this is what you need, if it’ll make you happy, then I–I support you. Even if it hurts. All I want is to know you’re happy.” His thumb slid down, lightly brushing beside the corner of your lips as his sad eyes focused there. “But I’m–I’m sorry my timing with telling you how I felt was so terrible. I should have told you on graduation night like I planned to. Maybe we wouldn’t be here now.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you whispered.

Matt grimaced briefly, the corner of his mouth turning downward. “Your driver sounds irritated. I should probably uh, let you go,” he said, the last word coming out a little choked.

Stepping towards Matt, you once again wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face against the damp spot your tears had created on his tee-shirt. His own arms immediately held you to him again, his face now burying into the side of your neck. The pair of you stayed like that for a long moment, neither of you clearly wanting to let go. Your eyes closed and you relaxed into him, breathing in the scent of him. If you pushed aside what was happening right now, you could feel whatever it was you’d always felt when you hugged Matt washing over you. That warm, comforting feeling you’d told Foggy about before. The feeling you always experienced when you hugged Matt. You knew what it was now.

He felt like home.

Fresh tears welled in your eyes as Matt slowly pulled away from you, your arms once again coming to wrap tight around your chest as if that alone would keep you from shattering to pieces on the sidewalk.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” you admitted weakly.

He reached a hand out, tucking some hair behind your ear as his watery gaze focused along your chin.

“Then don’t,” he replied softly. “I’ll see you again another time, sweetheart.”

His fingers lingered along your cheek, once again lightly wiping away the tears that were falling. Your heart clenched in your chest when you finally found the nerve to speak.

“I’ll miss you, Matty,” you confessed.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he whispered, his hand falling from your face.

You stood there for a few seconds longer, trying to commit the memory of Matt to your mind. You didn’t want to forget him. Truthfully you didn’t want to leave him. Though eventually you finally turned and opened the car door, slipping into the backseat. You pulled the door shut after yourself, confirming with the driver that you were heading to the airport as you put your seatbelt on. Your attention shifted back to Matt out of the window to where he was standing on the sidewalk. His glasses were back on his face as he began unfolding the cane he’d had folded up in his back pocket.

When the car finally pulled out into traffic, your eyes remained on Matt through the back window. His face was turned towards you as the car drove away, and you swore you saw his lips moving as if he’d said something, though you couldn’t make out what. You tried to remind yourself internally why you were doing this as the sight of Matt standing on the edge of the sidewalk slowly became harder and harder to see. But when he finally was entirely out of your view, you felt something sharp hit you right in the chest. Raising a hand up, you absently rubbed at the spot just over your heart, eyes still focused out of the back window as tears filled them yet again.

[END NOTES]

End notes again, because I feel like y'all need them. Again.

Matt finally confessed!! He explained quite a bit to Reader but inevitably, she left to LA. I mean, she'd already accepted the job and had no place to stay in Hell's Kitchen for starters, but also, she did really need to take a step away from Matt and try to live her life. And it certainly wouldn't be fair to Reader to try to jump into a relationship with Matt literally days after he'd been having a discussion about possibly proposing to someone else. So Reader is leaving anyway. And there was NO KISS because honestly, I feel like kissing in that moment would just hurt both of them even more. So you're still going to be waiting on that. But I will say the beginnings of comfort will probably start after the next installment for those of you literally hanging by a thread reading this. But there will be a happy ending to this fic so things will slowly begin to turn around soon!

But now for real, I need to focus on my other fics this week. Preferably things that are less angsty like FFTD.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #matt murdock fic #daredevil

404 notes · View notes

mylifeisactuallyamess · 2 years

Text

Vantalaður Ást

Ivar Lothbrok x F!Reader

Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

A/N: So this fic is coming to a close! 17 chapters in total it’s come to. From this moment on btw I didn’t plan any of this shit. It’s just poured out of me and really, I kinda like how it went down. I hope you guys too 😬 Thank you @acrossthesestars for being my personal word and grammar corrector!

Warnings: I am no expert with how to deal with a drug overdose. We just need to remember this is fiction and I do probably make it lighter than it should be, while still trying to convey it’s not easy at all. Follows on from the previous chapter so hospital mention, nightmares, swearing, Hvitserk needs help, food mention, minor character death mention. Feels.

Word Count: 3721

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

Carefully, you braided Hvitserk’s hair as he lay in the hospital bed. The sheets were so white they almost hurt your eyes in the harsh light. You spoke to him the whole time, repeating gossip from the nurses station you'd overheard and telling him how his brothers were doing. You needed him to wake up though. The nurse said they would be reducing his sedatives soon, which felt promising. Looking up at movement by the door, your face broke into a smile.

“Harald,” you said. He twirled his hat in his hands, approaching the bed cautiously, his eyes on Hvitserk.

“How are you doing?” He asked in that gruff voice of his. You got up, fighting a fresh wave of emotion as he embraced you, his arm tightening around your middle in a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m all right,” you finally answered. “It’s been a while since I saw you.”

“Yeah, been busy.” You gripped his hand, grateful that someone from the station had finally come to visit. Sighing, you gave his hand a slight shake before sitting back in your seat and continuing to braid Hvitserk’s hair. “How are the boys at the station? Oh! Can you tell Thora she can come visit, though maybe she should wait now...” you said more to yourself. Because if all went well, Hvitserk would be waking up today.

“Thora?” His voice was strained when he said her name and you wondered if you’d just spilled their secret.

“Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Her and Hvitserk are dating,” you finished, ending your sentence with a slight, embarrassed wince.

“Aye, I knew.” You placed a hand on your chest and gave him a wide smile over your shoulder.

“Ok, thank the gods. I thought I’d just ruined everything for them. I just didn’t want her to be put off because I was here all the time. I thought she’d have stopped by, is all.” Segmenting another strand of hair, you waited for Harald to reply, only looking up when the silence stretched unnaturally.

“You don’t know,” he rubbed his hand over his scratchy beard, groaning a bit. He turned away from you and bowed his head. You eyed the rope of his thick braid between his shoulders, trying to keep your heart rate steady and steel yourself for the unknown.

“Harald?” He turned back to you, pulling his lips against his teeth before he spoke.

“That fire.”

“The one the last week? The apartment building?” His shoulders sagged slightly and he nodded, running a nervous hand over the top of his braid.

“Thora lived in that building.” You frowned, sure that wasn’t the reason for the heavy sadness in his eyes.

“Is she ok?”

“No,” was the only reply he gave. He settled a hand on your shoulder as you gazed down at Hvitserk, putting the pieces together in your mind.

“Oh!” Brushing some hair out of his pale face you desperately tried to keep your tears at bay. “Why weren’t we told?” You asked Harald through a clenched jaw.

“I assumed you knew.”

“How did you not notice Hvitserk was missing? He’d been in his apartment festering for what looked like days!”

“I gave him leave. He pulled her from the fire and she died in his arms out on the street. The least I could do was give him time off.” Your mouth opened in a silent cry as pain lanced through your heart, hating yourself for not noticing there was something wrong sooner. For being a shitty best friend and for Harald to not tell you something this momentous.

“And you didn’t think to inform his brothers? Or—or me?” He spread his arms in a defensive gesture, backing up a step as you rose from the bed.

“I thought he was going to tell you! How was I supposed to know?” He cried.

“Look at him!” You hissed, throwing your arm to point at the still figure in the bed. “You did this.” Stepping right up to him, you placed a finger to his temple. “You are responsible for the state that he is in right now and I will never forgive you!” He grunted when you pressed hard, pushing his face away from yours. “I hope you never forget this. He could have died!”

“Ástinvur?” Turning your tear filled gaze to the door you saw Ubbe eyeing the exchange with interest. “What have you done now Harald?” He asked with an air of trying to diffuse the situation.

“I was just leaving,” he mumbled, casting a sideways glance at you. “If there’s anything I can do…”

“Trust me, you’d be the last person I’d call on!” You spat vehemently. He slunk past Ubbe. They gave each other a clap on the shoulder before he disappeared from view.

“Why are you so angry at the Chief?” Ubbe asked.

“Did you know Thora….died?” The tears were sliding down your face as you spoke. “Did you know Harald just let him take time off?” You went to stand next to Hvitserk.

“We knew. I knew, and Björn. But not you or Ivar. You two had enough going on.” Closing your eyes, you tried not to take what Ubbe said to heart. But being shut out like that upset you, regardless of what you had going on. Taking Hvitserk’s limp hand in your own, you were thankful that right now he felt warm and that he was still here. “He must have been devastated, Ubbe, and he just stayed at home, torturing himself. Blaming himself. Oh Hvitserk! Why didn’t you ring me?” You whispered. Ubbe grabbed you in a tight embrace, looking down at his brother as everything you said sank in. “Why didn’t you do more?!” You suddenly demanded, trying to shrug him off but he held onto you refusing to let go. “If you knew…” your words were choked off. Tears for Hvitserk and his pain seeped into the fabric of Ubbe’s jumper. Twisted anger at your own selfishness rose up in you, the blame couldn’t be laid at the brothers feet alone. If only, if only…

“It’s done now. We found him and he’s here. He’ll be alright,” he mumbled through your sobs. “You did what you could.”

“But if I hadn’t been fighting with Ivar…!”

“Hey!” Ubbe held you at arms length, ducking down so his pale blue eyes bored into yours. “You wouldn’t be you and Ivar if you weren’t falling out over something. We can throw the blame around all you like and we’d find we are all at fault. Or,” he cupped your cheek, keeping your eyes on his. “Or we can work together and get Hvitserk back to his normal self. Yes?” Nodding against his hand, you knew he was right, but the pain and guilt you felt was eating away at you. Ubbe pulled you back against his chest, curling a hand up the side of your face. Taking a shuddering breath, you inhaled his familiar scent and closed your eyes for a moment, dreaming you were anywhere else but here.

Hvitserk was coming home. Ubbe and Björn were at the hospital getting ready to bring him back. Sigurd was running the workshop and Ivar…no one knew. After spending the last few days tidying up Hvitserk’s house, you found you had a few hours to spare.

The door to Ivar’s building was unlocked and you took a moment to breathe before pulling it open. Taking another inhale, you stepped over the threshold only to choke on the breath in your lungs.

She stood in the hallway, holding up a small compact mirror and reapplying lipstick. Her bright golden hair was perfect, draping in soft, styled waves over one shoulder. She wore an opulent brown fur coat and heels that clicked when she shifted slightly, puckering her lips as she checked them in the mirror. Her gaze slid to you standing stupidly by the door, a crafty smirk appearing at the corners of her mouth.

“I take it you’re here to see Ivar. Give him a minute to—clean up.” You hated the way her voice was like crushed velvet, her accent soothing and cutting at the same time.

“I’m here to update him on Hvitserk.” You managed to breathe out, still dumbfounded that Freydis of all people was here. Had she been with Ivar?

“Like I said, give him a minute.” The mirror snapped shut, echoing loudly down the corridor. “Our reunion was…mmmm!” She grinned widely, rolling her eyes in exaggerated disbelief. “I have missed him.” You had no idea what to do. It felt like someone had tipped ice water all over your head, the chill seeping to your very bones, freezing in your veins. You could feel your heart beating, but the life in you was gone. Your numb fingers didn't register they were still clutching at the door handle, the metal biting into your skin. You couldn’t feel anything. “Anyway, I best be off. Give my regards to Hvitserk won’t you?” She pouted slightly, batting her long eyelashes at you before almost elbowing you out of the way. You could see Ivar’s door, so close and yet a million miles away.

The dread was thick, dragging at your thoughts and fuelling all the scenarios you had hoped would never happen to you. A logical part of you knew that Freydis was lying, there was no way Ivar would put himself through her shit ever again. But still…

You knocked. Probably harder than you needed to. The door was yanked open and the fury on Ivar’s face melted away into a blank expression at the sight of you. He didn’t say a word, his eyes frosty at best, a slight tilt to his head as he regarded you coolly. He didn’t move aside and you didn't want to go in, your eyes captivated by the lipstick smeared at the corner of his mouth.

“Just wanted to let you know that Hvitserk is coming home. Soon. Hours in fact.” It was there, so red, like blood. Just a dab marking the corner of those lips you’d kissed. Still, he didn’t speak and you felt yourself drowning without a lifeline to hold onto. “I’ll be moving in with him. He’s going to need all of our support to process Thora and…everything else,” you swallowed harshly and tried to ignore the heat that gathered behind your eyes. “So I saw Freydis.” You couldn’t help it. You had to say something, anything, to get a reaction out of him but his eyes just flicked away from yours and focussed on a point over your shoulder. “She looks good. I see she left her mark on you. That's not your colour, Ivar.” He scowled, just his brow tugging down, but you didn’t wait for a reply, turning away and leaving the building before he could even take a breath in for a scathing retort.

You waited until you rounded the corner before allowing yourself to break. The wall was rough as you slid to the ground, not caring at the pain that radiated up your body. It didn’t even compare to the ache in your chest. Pain like you’d never experienced before eviscerated your insides, tearing you to pieces. Your heart shattered into painful shards, each one stabbing and shredding and creating more hurt that you could barely breathe through. Your lips quivered, pulled back in a silent cry as tears fell from your eyes. Out of all the ways you thought Ivar would break you, this one had never made it onto the list.

You were aware of how it must look with you sitting sobbing on the dirty ground and you made yourself get up. You had to push this to one side. Today was about Hvitserk. Ivar was done with you, that much was clear.

“Sit here!” You plumped the pillow and then helped to rearrange it after Hvitserk sat down. He slapped your hand away gently, a soft groan falling from him.

“I don’t need all this fuss!” He exclaimed but you pretended you didn’t hear him. Ubbe and Björn milled about in the living room. The pair of them far too large to be in here together. Sigurd took his brother's bag upstairs and you went out to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“You ok? Did you get hold of Ivar?” Ubbe asked and you plastered on a bright smile.

“Oh yeah, I told him. He was a little preoccupied though.” Ubbe scowled, watching as you filled the kettle at the sink.

“With?”

“Freydis, of course.” You shrugged like it was no big deal. Ubbe didn’t say anything, standing there in quiet contemplation as he watched Björn and Hvitserk through the doorway. You could hear Sigurd coming down the stairs, all the noise of their laughter weighing on you.

Hitching up that smile again you served them all coffee, keeping yourself busy sorting a load of laundry, and cleaned up the cups as soon as they’d finished while they all lounged around, spending time with their brother, who could barely keep his eyes open. You tapped Ubbe on the shoulder and pointed with your thumb as Hvitserk’s head fell forwards onto his chest. Björn clapped Hvitserk on the shoulder, announcing he was leaving loudly and you inwardly groaned. Ubbe gave you a kiss on the head, Björn squeezed you in a tight hug and Sigurd stood awkwardly before you for a split second until he decided to grab you in a rough hug that you accepted. Finally the door shut and Hvitserk looked at you with a quizzical expression.

“Are you my babysitter?” He asked with a smirk.

“Well if you do stupid stuff, Hvitserk…” you could see the pain behind his smile. The ache that settled inside him when he remembered what had happened. “Do you want to talk?”

“No.” Nodding you accepted the rebuttal, it was too soon. “I am tired though.”

“I made up your bed and cleared the spare room so one of us could sleep in there.” He eased himself off the sofa and you refrained from rushing to help him. Eventually he straightened, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck so hard it made you cringe.

“Come up with me?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, sure.” You followed just behind, matching his slow pace and pausing at the top of the stairs as he glanced between the bedrooms.

“I’ll take the spare,” he mumbled. You couldn’t blame him because you didn’t want to sleep in his room either, probably for similar reasons.

“Yeah. Ok.”

“Goodnight, litla systir.” You held back the comment that it was only 5pm and you bid him good night anyway. The door to his room was open and you paused on the threshold. Echoes of your screams, the feel of how lifeless he was, all came rushing back and you sucked in a breath. You’d sleep on the sofa.

It felt like you’d been asleep for moments, a few silent bliss filled moments, when a shout woke you so abruptly that you rolled off the sofa with a thud. The blanket entangled your legs, seeming to get tighter in your desperation to be free. The shouting grew louder, the pain in Hvitserk’s voice made your heart race and you climbed up the stairs on all fours, the blanket still trying to keep you from him.

“Vinsamlegast ekki taka hana!” He cried out hoarsely.

“Hvitserk!” Bursting into his room, you found he was sitting up. His eyes red and sore where he’d been crying, the stain of tears on his cheeks glinted in the low light. He was reaching out to something you couldn’t see and you did the first thing you could think of. Grabbing his hand tightly, you tried to talk to him out of the throes of his nightmare.

“Ástin mínn!” He choked, holding onto you so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe.

“I’m here. It’s me, sæta.” You tenderly wiped the wetness off his cheeks seeing him blink to consciousness. “Hvitserk…”

“Don’t leave me. Please.” He sounded so small, and hurt, his throat raw with emotion. You nodded, holding back your own tears.

“Ok. I’ll stay,” you whispered.

“You promise?”

“Yes. Yes, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.” You made him lie down, whispering all the while to let him know you weren’t going anywhere and stroking his hair out of his face with your free hand, because he had the other clutched tightly in his grasp. You anchored him, made him feel safe and right now he needed you more than anyone else. You lay next to him and watched until his breathing grew even and his death grip on your hand eased. But you didn’t pull it free. Your eyes traced over him in the low light and you knew a rough ride was ahead of you all.

When morning dawned neither of you said a word. He went for a shower and you yawned in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil. You shot off some texts to the others, just letting them know you'd made it through the first night. Kat was the only one to enquire after you, but you managed to appease her with a smiley. You weren’t sure how long that was going to last.

Hvitserk appeared behind you, his hair long and loose, but he was clean shaven and looked better than he did last night.

“Want me to braid it?” You asked and he nodded. Silently you drifted into the living room. He settled on the cushion and you spread your legs on either side of him, smiling a little as he wrapped his arms around your leg. He put something on tv, possibly to do with tree frogs. You weren’t sure but he was engrossed. Your mind was elsewhere, trapped in reliving that moment with Freydis and then last night all circling back to that moment you found your best friend almost dead in his own bed.

The spiral was fierce, you hadn’t realised how deep you’d sunk until you absently wiped at the wetness trickling down your cheeks. Quickly you used your sleeve to wipe away your tears as Hvitserk shifted to look at you over his shoulder. There was a shadow in his gaze and you knew perfectly well what was haunting him.

He got up and went into the kitchen and you heard the fridge door open. The cupboards opened and slammed shut. He even tried the back door and your heart fell when you realised what he was looking for.

“Hvitserk…” you called.

“I’m hungry.”

“I could make toast…”

“I don’t want toast…I don’t—want fucking…” You saw the loaf of bread fly across the kitchen, the sound of cutlery scattering as he emptied the drawer. You got up, watching him empty more and more things, cereal and rice skitting across the tiles. Packets splitting, tins denting as they fell, but he had to see for himself there was nothing here.

“Hvitserk…” It broke you to see him like this. His expression was angry but desperate tears filled his eyes as he swept every corner of every cupboard, finding them devoid of everything he’d stashed. You’d made sure of that. He slumped amongst the mess of the kitchen, snivelling sobs fell from him and you crouched in the doorway. “I’m sorry…”

“No you’re not,” the venom in his tone took you aback slightly. “I don’t want you here!” He snarled.

“You need me.”

“I don’t need you or Ivar or anyone!” He stood up, kicking food out of his way, making the mess worse.

“Hvitserk…” the force of his fury focussed on you. Grabbing the front of your top he pressed you heavily against the wall, the air pushed from your lungs. You tried to tell him he was hurting you, to let you go. But he wasn't even looking at you.

“I want Thora,” he sobbed. “Not you!” Covering his face, his grip loosened on your top and you were able to gasp some air down through the pain in your chest. Slumping to his knees he leaned into your stomach, seeking comfort, and you automatically wrapped your arms around him. Not able to hold back your own tears as he wept into you, hands fisting in your clothes trying to grasp some sort of solace at the feel of you. “I’m sorry!” He moaned.

“It’s ok. You’re hurting,” you told him thickly.

“I just need more sleep,” he whispered. The only movement you made was to sit on the floor and heave Hvitserk in your lap. Stroking his hair and lulling him back to sleep right there. An enormous sense of exhaustion washed over you and it wasn’t until the front door opened and Ubbe came in that you realised how much of the day had slipped by without you realising.

He crouched beside you both, his fingers reaching out to ghost over Hvitserk’s hair before glancing up at you with those bright blue eyes.

“You ok?”

“I am, but the kitchens not,” you whispered back. He looked around with disbelief all over his face, hanging onto the doorframe to keep his balance.

“Are you ok with him? I can stay…”

“No, honestly. I’m fine with him.” Ubbe studied you closer.

“You look tired, ástvinur.”

“If you can make it to the kettle, I’d like a coffee.” He raised an eyebrow and you smiled. Reaching to nudge your chin he gave you a lopsided one back.

“Coffee coming up.”

Ubbe tidied and cleaned the whole kitchen, saving what he could and putting it back in the cupboards. Your legs had gone numb a long time ago with Hvitserk spread eagled all over you like dead weight. You’d almost finished your cup of coffee when he finally stirred, disorientated by being on the floor and you gasped as blood flow returned to your limbs.

“How long was I out?” He asked gruffly, peering into the kitchen and acknowledging Ubbe with a brief nod.

“I don’t even know,” you groaned, manipulating your legs and rubbing away the pins and needles.

“Gods, I’m starving,” he said with a slight grin. Just an echo of Hvitserk was shining through in that moment but it was enough to lift your spirits. Maybe, just maybe, you’d all get through this.

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

69 notes · View notes

jadelynlace · 1 year

Text

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

series master post is here.

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

pairing: Modern Ivar x F!Reader

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

word count: 1600+ words

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

But today is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not breathing!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head to Ivar.

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

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

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

All because you took that oath.

Tags:

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

full masterlist can be found here.

48 notes · View notes

istorkyou · 2 years

Text

Hearts Of Glass (Modern!Ivar AU)

A Modern!Ivar x reader

Warning - Language.

Synopsis - Can a healed heart stay healed forever?

@punkrocknpearls ❤️ 4ever!

Thanks to everyone who has read, liked, commented and reblogged!!

Tag List @youbloodymadgenius @nothingtolosebutweight @smears-and-spots @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @itsamysticalmystery @petite-hime @threekeysandkiwis

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7 / Epilogue

3 years later

It's time. Ivar feels it’s time.

So much has happened in the last few years, he is barely the same person as he was when he was with her. His life has changed dramatically. He lives near London now and is the father to a wonderful two year old son.

It was never easy, making his way through the mess of his head. But the intensive therapy to help him sort through the quagmire and, despite having ups and downs, Ivar knows he’s clearer, older, much more equipped to deal with life and it’s emotional challenges than he’s ever been.

One thing hasn’t changed though. He thinks about her everyday. Ivar knows he still loves her and he has missed her every day since she left.

He isn’t angry at her anymore, he has come to understand the reasons she did it. It wasn’t her being selfish, as he thought for a long time, or cowardly. She couldn't be his rehab, she wasn’t his therapist. She had been through enough in her own life to take him on in the state he was in.

He has come to realise she didn't just break his heart by leaving, she broke her own as well.

His therapist has set him a goal to make amends with people, to aid his own healing and over the last 12 months he has been doing as such. He and Sigurd are in a better place because of it. He even spoke to Freydis, just the once, but it brought him some closure in his head. Now it was time for Y/N. The hardest.

He has been dreading this. He has searched for her over the years on social media, she is on there but all her profiles are private and the profile pictures give nothing away about her personal life. He has written countless messages to her but deleted them all. There is no way of doing this but face to face. He knows he is being selfish. He needs to see her to make up for the past, but mostly he wants her back. In his arms, in his bed and he wants to be back in her heart. She never left his.

Thora finally gave in and gave him her address. She really did not want to, he has asked countless times over the years for her number and address but Thora has always refused. She sees the change in him now though. She understands the need. He asks about her situation but Thora refuses him, it is not her place to share information about Y/N with him. She had always drawn a very firm line in that respect.

He has Google maps open as he drives, trying to find her house. She lives in a village in the south of England, a little over 2 hours from where he lives now. Very quaint, he thinks with a little grin as he searches for her house. He finds it eventually and there is a big red door in the middle of the property. His stomach flips over and over as he makes his way up the path. The path to her. He knocks twice and waits.

A very tall man answers the door. Ivar is shocked for a minute, looking at the door number hoping he has the wrong house, but he doesn’t. He looks back at the man who opened the door and he sees a flicker of recognition and maybe disappointment cross his face. A million thoughts rush through his mind. Of course she’s with someone, why would he think she would be single after all this time. His stomach drops at the realisation and, not for the first time since he made the decision to come here he has started to rethink. His body is rapidly moving into flight mode; he starts to take a step back and turns his body away.

“Ivar?” Tall Man asks. Ivar whips his head back to face the man and nods stiffly. Tall Man stares at him as if trying to decide what to do. A massive sigh escapes the stranger, he moves aside and extends a reluctant arm into the house as an invitation. Ivar is confused and is stuck to the spot for a few seconds.

“Come on in, I am sure she would like to see you.”

This was not the response Ivar is expecting; a punch in the face from this new guy, maybe, a warning to fuck off and stay away, but not an invitation in.

They walk through the house into the kitchen. Ivar looks around the place and sees her everywhere. He also sees glimpses of himself and his heart swells in pride. He sees one of his photos hung on the wall, the one with Hvitserk and Thora dancing on one of their nights out. He sees the picture of her he took in the midst of their relationship. It’s a profile shot of her, her face tilted to the side and up slightly, as if she hasn’t felt the sun on her face for years.

He remembers the day. They had packed a picnic and took it to the park, the weather suited them both, not too hot for him, not too cold for her. They had been open to each other, content and happy. It was before the insecurities overtook him, before the guilt overtook her. The few precious months when they were together and neither of their pasts had crept in and destroyed them.

It’s his favourite picture he has ever taken. He has the same one on his wall at home.

He can see a picture of her when she was much younger, late teens maybe, laughing with a man, next to it is a picture of her in a wedding dress next to the same man. Wow, so that is Him.

Ivar has never seen a picture of Him. He didn’t look as Ivar imagined, his hair was a mass of tight, black curls and he was built like an athlete, tall and lean. Gods, she looks happy in those pictures. His Y/N. The photo next to it is of her and Him with the South American waterfall in the background, the same waterfall that hung on her wall in Kattegat years ago. No wonder she was annoyed at him the first time they met and he questioned her about it.

He also can see a smaller frame on the wall but can’t make out what’s in it, stepping forward he can see what it is and his mouth curls up into a smile, a sad smile. It’s a portion of map and in the middle is a red pin, stuck into Kattegat.

They were fated. He had always known it.

He is pulled out of his thoughts when Tall Man calls out.

“Oi, someone is here to see you, you little troll!” He looks Ivar up and down, a tiny hint of a sneer on his face.

Ivar’s head whips around. Tall Man’s flippant words send a prickle of annoyance over Ivar’s skin. His face pulls into a scowl.

Movement catches his eye from the window that leads to the garden, he sees her as she floats in through the kitchen door. His breath catches.

She looks every bit as beautiful as he remembers. She is wearing shorts and a plain white t-shirt, tanned skin smooth and inviting, as it always had been. Her hair is a bit darker than when he last saw her. His heart stops and his breath hitches in his throat. She's taken his breath away. Butterflies don't do the feeling in his stomach justice.

“Eat a dick I am not a troll!” she shouts at Tall Man before seeing the look on his face and turning her eyes to find Ivar there.

She stops in her tracks, an expression on her face that Ivar can’t read. He stares into her jewelled almond eyes again; he has dreamt of them so often in the last three years, they are exactly the same, maybe a couple more laughter lines in the corners. Good, he thinks, laughter has been part of her life since us.

As she is stuck to her spot staring at him, Ivar notices a child on her hip.

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

You walk in through the kitchen door, you aren't sure who is here, maybe the neighbour who was supposed to be dropping back the lawn mower you lent her.

“Eat a dick I am not a troll!” you shout at Mark as you give Rosie a little jiggle on your hip, making the toddler giggle.

Then you see Ivar standing in her kitchen.

The blood rushes through your ears and you feel dizzy. He's not really here, you bloody idiot, get more sleep! You blink multiple times and he is still there. Your mind goes blank. Your next thoughts are to run to him, to throw your arms around him and kiss his beautiful face and tell him he has never left your thoughts or heart. But your body won't allow for it and your rational brain is grateful.

You see his eyes slide down your body to Rosie sitting on your hip. He stares at Rosie, then to Mark. He is searching her face and looking back at Mark, clearly seeing the family resemblance. Ivars eyes find their way back to you and you suddenly realise what he thinks he is seeing. Your mouth falls open, and you can feel heat in your face and on your chest.

“I've made a mistake coming here,” Ivar mutters, his voice tight, as he waves a hand between you and Mark. Ivar thinks this a family scene. His brow furrows and he again finds her eyes, his slightly misty.

“Aunty Y/N, who is that?” Rosie asks, pointing at Ivar.

Mark walks toward you and plucks Rosie out of your arms.

“Come with me baby girl, let’s go and see what mummy is doing in the garden.”

Ivar's face is confused at first, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his brain. When he figures out that he is not looking at a mother, father and their child, you see him let out a very slow, relieved breath.

Mark turns his back towards Ivar and puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“You OK?” Mark's eyes are searching your face. You look at him and give him a quick nod and he squeezes your shoulder.

“I’m just outside if you need me, OK? I will make sure Lils does not interrupt you.” He glances back to Ivar, “nice to meet you” Mark says tersely, giving Ivar a hard stare before he walks out the kitchen door.

You stare at each other for a few seconds.

“Hi Y/N. Surprise!” It comes out more of a question than a statement.

You clear your throat. “You are fucking right about that,” you reply softly and you can feel your shoulders are still tense. You are now aware you haven't moved a muscle since you saw him. “Why are you here?” You ask in a daze.

A fleeting look of hurt crosses his face, and you grimace.

“I’m sorry, that came out way more rude than I meant it to,” you quickly say. “I’m just in total shock that you are in front of me. Am I dreaming? Did I take a whole bunch of drugs?” You are questioning yourself.

He lets out a huffed laugh “No, I’m really here. I’m sorry to just show up here after all this time. Can I have a glass of water, my mouth is dry.” The request makes you move from the spot you have been stuck to. “Or something stronger, I am nervous,” he jokes, rubbing his palms together.

You get two glasses of water and gesture for him to sit down at the table. He takes you up on the offer and you take the seat next to him. His face is serene as he stares at you.

You sit in silence for a minute, eyes taking each other in. Your eyes wander to his hair which is different, he still wears it shaved on the sides but it's short on top now. He runs his hand through his hair and you smile. He has read your thoughts, not for the first time. His eyes seem less tortured, maybe that's just what you want to see.

“That guy, not your husband then?” Ivar asks, taking a big gulp of water.

“No,” you scoff, “that giant giraffe is Mark, Lily’s husband. The baby is theirs. No husband for me.” Relief floods his face and your stomach flips.

He clears his throat, clearly readying himself for something.

“I have been going to therapy, Y/N, for a long time now. My therapist wants me to make amends with people from my past to help me heal and move on.”

Now your stomach drops knowing that he is here for cathartic reasons, to ‘move on’ as he put it. He isn’t here for me, you blink quickly to stop tears being produced.

“I’ve worked on my relationship with Sigurd,” he laughs. “Although he’s still thoroughly dislikable I can be around him without wanting to inflict harm.” You sneer slightly at the memories of Sigurd being a twat.

“I met up with Freydis...” Your eyes widened at this news. “Yeah, just the once. It took all the new skills I've learned to be able to do that, believe me, but I said what I needed to say to her and I felt much better for it. Like a weight was lifted.”

You study his face, it has changed, you can see it now. He seems more mature than in Kattegat. The clenched jaw is gone and he has a relaxed air about him.

“And...and I have a son.” The news hits you like a 10 tonne truck, directly in your stomach. Married with a child you realise. His smile is so genuine and happy that you are unable to stop these tears. You wipe them away quickly. You are so happy for him but it hurts like hell.

“Ivar, I am so happy for you, that’s great news. What’s his name? How old is he?” You are genuinely interested even though it’s ripping you to shreds. He pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of a baby version of himself. The eyes, the hair, the scowl! “Oh Ivar, he is beautiful, he looks just like you!” You sniff.

“His name is Igor, wasn’t my first choice, but his mother is Russian and you can’t really argue with a pregnant lady…” he chuckles.

The mention of his partner sends a jolt of pain through your chest. This might be therapy for him but this isn’t good for you. This is tearing open old scars which have taken years to heal properly. He will never know how much leaving him tore you apart.

“I am sure you are a very happy family,” you force out, trying to sound as happy as possible but the tears falling betray your real emotion. His brow knots together.

“No, no, Y/N sorry, I didn’t explain myself properly. Igor’s mother and I are not together. We actually never were, well, for a couple of nights but nothing more. She married someone when Igor was a year old. Great guy, English, we get on really well and he is amazing with Igor. They moved to London a few months ago so I live here now. I’m not with anyone,” he explains, with wide eyes.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. His face softens. He lives in England? Oh god, that information is going to take a minute to get used to, you think to yourself.

You want to change the subject, it’s too tense and you are struggling to hold it together.

“Right, so why exactly are you here, Ivar?” you ask softly, trying not to sound too abrupt. He sucks in a massive breath.

��To apologise to you for the person I was, for frightening you. To apologise for everything I put you through. When I was on my way back from the trip before you left, I had decided I was going to get help to change. I had set up an appointment to talk to someone. When I got home to the empty house, and your letter, I felt like my heart had been torn out. I knew I had let you down, I should have never been the one to make you feel unsafe or cause you to cry, I’m sorry I didn’t protect your heart better, Y/N. I was a mess after, I went from being devastated to hating you for leaving me.” He reaches for your hands but you pull them away and start to stand up from the table.

“I can’t do this, Ivar,” a sob escaping your mouth, his words slowly breaking your wounds open, fibre by fibre.

“Please Y/N. Just let me say what I need to say. I know it’s selfish of me, but I need you to hear this.” You sit down slowly and look out of the window, looking anywhere to avoid his eyes.

“I get it now. You took a huge risk in letting me into your heart and I didn’t hold up my end of the deal. I let my past darken me and it caused you to doubt us. I ruined us. I caused it all.” He looks at his hands and his tears fall.

“Ivar, that’s not true. I had my shit as well. I freaked out and I shouldn’t have let it build up in my head. I allowed your behaviour, I never called you out on it, I just wanted you to be happy and I lost myself in the process. That was on me, not you. I do hate this wanky term but I became your enabler--” You air quote it the word enabler. ”-- and when I realised what I had become, it was too late. I expected our new relationship to have the same dynamic as my fifteen year one. I wish I could have stuck around and worked it out with you, but it all brought up so many unresolved issues. It was best for us both that I left.” You exhale loudly and it’s shaky. You had talked this through with your counsellor years ago, you are surprised by the amount of pain that still comes along with the subject.

This is torture.

You feel a black hole hovering near you, waiting to suck you back in. You are starting to get annoyed at him for bringing you back to this place. You aren’t going to hold it together much longer, you need him to leave.

He is tearing back up at what you have said “Y/N…..” his voice cracks again.

“Anyway,” you interrupt, trying to sound breezy, “it’s all in the past now. I’m glad you're doing so well, Ivar, truly I am.” You stand up, your body language signifying the end of discussion.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” he asks quickly in a panicked tone, you can see him reading you, he knows he is about to be asked to leave.

His question startles you, you didn’t expect it.

“I-I was but we ended a while back. The fit was off, he was a lovely guy, but he just didn’t quite compare...” Your eyes catch his.

You can see his face fall at the comparison remark, it creases with disappointment.

His face is puzzling to you, you thought the only reason he was here was for therapy purposes, but the crestfallen look he has, makes hope swell in your chest. Is he here for me? Fuck you hope he is. He has worked on himself with therapy, the walls around his heart have come down completely and you can see he isn’t the same Ivar you knew, he has changed for the better. And so have you.

Enough time has passed for you that your heart is as healed as it is going to get. Like a Kintsugi vase put back together with gold paint, a reminder of what has happened before but that something beautiful can still be made from the broken pieces.

Your ghosts are gone.

Shit, should you say anything? Oh fuck it, life really is too short.

“He didn’t compare to you, Ivar. No one ever will. I have missed you every day since I left you.” Your voice breaks into a sob, tears falling over your cheeks.

It takes him a few beats to process the words you have said, you can see it in his features. He doesn't move, just stares at you dazed and you start to think you've made a mistake, Oh fucking shit, I’ve read this all wrong a creeping embarrassment starts rising from your stomach and settles in a deep red on your chest and cheeks.

Suddenly a smile splits his face in two, and he stands up quickly, stepping into your space and crashes his mouth on yours. You are so shocked to be kissing him again after all these years you are frozen. Your memories kick in, his taste, his smell, the feel of him flush against you, a noise of relief leaves your lips as you start to kiss him back.

You cling to each other, both sets of hands on the other's cheeks. Gods you've missed him, his mouth on yours, the taste of him. You need him back with you, you've been empty since you left him. You break apart, foreheads touching eyes locked together both sets have tears falling.

“I love you, Y/N. I never stopped. We can make it work, I know we can,“ Ivar says, like he has never believed something so fully in his life.

“We definitely can and we will. The timing is right now, isn’t it?” You wrap your arms around his neck, your face in his neck breathing in the scent of the man you love. “I love you, Ivar.”

“I’m the man you deserve now, I promise you. I promise I will never hurt you again. I love you so much.” His voice is frantic with relief and he kisses every inch of your face, eventually nuzzling into your neck and inhaling deeply. His hands slide to your ass and grab it roughly. “I fucking missed this as well.” You both let out a laugh.

You stay entwined together, neither wanting to let the other go. You shift away from him, stepping back slightly. You see panic and fear in his features as you move from him.

“Ask me then, do it right,” you say as you wipe your tears away and laugh. He looks at you with a knowing smile.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Will you be my girlfriend?” He closes the gap between you, his hands are stroking the back of your neck sending shivers down your spine.

“Nah, you aren’t really my type,” you reply, smirking at him with a cheeky grin.

“Still busting my balls after all these years.” He shakes his head with love in his eyes.

Your eyebrow raises. “You remember what I do after I bust them, right?”

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

“Love?!” You shout up the stairs, pure excitement in your voice. “My Love, he’s here!”

You rush to the front door, swinging it open as fast as you can and drop to your knees, arms open wide as you watch him run up the path laughing with an oversized backpack on his little frame. He crashes into you at full speed so it’s good you braced yourself for impact.

“Hello my little pickled onion!” You kiss his cheek as you stand and spin him around.

“I’m five now, Y/N, I’m not little!” he says indignantly.

“Excuse me then, hello my big pickled onion!” He laughs and flings his arms around your neck for a cuddle.

You can hear Ivar's familiar gait coming down the wooden stairs behind you.

“Daddy!!!!!” Igor shouts and you put him down so he can run to Ivar who sits on the stairs and pulls him in for a crushing hug.

“Hello my love, I missed you so much, kiddo!” Ivar says into his hair.

Katia walks into the front door with the rest of Igor's bags, looking around your new house with a slight wrinkle in her nose and sneer on her lips.

“Oh don’t look at it like that you cow, it’s a fixer upper I told you that on the phone!” You laugh at her expression.

“I thought you were a property developer, why did you not buy a developed property?” She asks with disdain, catches your eye then laughs as she sees your middle finger raised and directed at her.

When you and Katia met you were both a bit spikey with each other, she was worried about a new woman in Igor’s life and you were worried she wouldn’t like you enough to let you be in Igor’s life. All was hashed out over a bottle of wine and the realisation you both have a very similar sense of humour and didn’t take any shit, especially from Ivar! Since then, you’ve been great friends. Much to Ivar's relief.

“We’ve finished Igor’s room if you want to go and check it out,” Ivar pipes up, “Come on boy, let’s show Mama your room.” He ruffles Igor’s hair as he bounds up the stairs excitedly, Katia and Ivar in tow. You leave them to it.

———————-

It’s late in the evening, Katia has gone home and Ivar has put Igor to bed in the new room he is thrilled with.

You are in the kitchen sitting on the counter top flicking through a design magazine when you hear Ivar come into the kitchen to find you. He walks to you, grabbing your knees to part your legs so he can settle between them, and use you to lean on. His hands find your ass pulling you forward so your crotch is flush against him and he kisses you, sliding hands up under your shirt to caress your back.

“How come you didn’t come up with us earlier, for his bedroom reveal?” he questions.

“Just nice for you three to have a little time together sometimes, no big deal, it’s good for Igor,” you kiss him and roll your hips into him making his eyes flutter.

“You are amazing,” he breathes in, his face between your boobs, fingers slowly unbuttoning your shirt. Running your hands through his hair, you revel in this feeling. A fresh start, a new house, yours and Ivar’s. You still can’t believe your luck. You had both been living between his house and yours, which was a logistical nightmare. You found your new home slap bang between your two places so you were only an hour from your friends and family, and an hour from Igor.

Ivar opens your shirt fully and is leaving little butterfly kisses all over your chest.

“My Mum and brothers are coming in a few months to see us, with all the kids and wives. We will have to have things finished in the house by then,” he breathes onto your neck sending shivers to your core.

“You really are great at dirty talk aren’t you, My Love?” you tease him as he pulls your bra down over one of your nipples and pinches it harshly.

“Ouch, Ivar, don’t, that hurts!” You say pulling away from him, scowling. His face pulls into a quizzical expression. He knows you like the back of his hand, knows how to turn you on and how you like things, so your reaction is a surprise to him. You start to do your shirt up.

“Women’s boobs get sensitive in pregnancy,” you announce to him, looking up from under your lashes.

You watch it register on his face, his jaw drops and he stares blankly at you.

“I’m pregnant, Ivar. Why do you look so shocked? We never stop fucking, I’m only surprised it’s taken this long!” you exclaim, laughing at him.

“I can’t believe it, you are so old, surely your eggs are shrivelled up by now?” His face full of fake concern before creasing in laughter.

“Cheeky little shit!” You slap his chest playfully, laughing at his joke.

“Can we call him Odin??” He laughs but you know he’s serious.

He stops laughing, eyes on yours and they start to fill up with tears. “I am so happy, Y/N, this is the best news, I love you so much.” He peppers your face with kisses, lifting up your shirt and doing the same to your stomach until you are giggling and swatting him away.

“Soppy bugger,” you tease. “I love you so much. I hope the baby looks like you. If it’s a boy I will consider Odin as long as you get me anything I want when the cravings kick in!” You laugh at him. He holds up his hand for a high five, you give him one rolling your eyes.

“Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for everything, for giving me a second chance, for becoming my wife, for giving me another child. I love you beyond measure.”

“Yeah, I’m the tits,” you wink at him.

THE END.

#vikings history #ivar x reader #vikings fanfiction #vikings au #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern ivar au #modern!ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #modern vikings #vikings #vikings fanfic #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar vikings

119 notes · View notes