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mrsalwayswrite · 4 months

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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 18

Here it is, friends! The promised update! A massive thank you to everyone who replied to my prior post. You guys are truly the best and y'all give me the desire to finish this story.

I'll confess, this chapter is short (by my standards). I also feel like its not up to my usual quality of writing, so please give me some grace as I step back into the world of writing and remembering how to use words.

Lastly, if I missed anyone who wants to be added to the new tag list, please let me know!

Words: 3900

Warnings: Violence (both graphic and implied), swearing, Ivar still struggles with feelings

Series Masterlist

The day of reckoning had come.

A red sun rose that morning. The locals glanced nervously at the sky and muttered under their breath at the strange sight. But Ivar knew what it meant. A blessing on this day from the old gods.

Everything had fallen into place far more easily than he anticipated, a blessing indeed. The manipulation, the lies shared to convince the traitors to meet with him, feigned ignorance to soothe any worry of their deceptive being known. It all dripped from his lips like poisoned honey, until it was too late. Until the door was shut and a gun was pointed at their heads. Then he dropped the façade and allowed his guile to show. Only then were the traitors introduced to the truth of their failed scheme….and become close acquaintances with his knives.

It was a day for justice.

A day for vengeance.

And Ivar relished every moment.

*****

Amidst the dim light leaking through the few windows into the basement, the stench of dry, stale air, piss and blood permeated.

Two men knelt on the concrete ground before their executioner. Naked, with their clothing scattered beneath them, cut from their bodies with artful precision. Arms outstretched as in the worship, yet thick rope bound them to this position. Not as devout petitioners, but as those in bondage without even a god able to save them.

For Armageddon had arrived, led by a blue-eyed devil with a malicious smile and blood dripping from his knives.

Studying the one still conscious, he casually wiped the traitor's blood from his knife with a clean rag, for he refused to miss a single moment of pain or despair that was to come.

The trial of judgment had not truly begun yet. This was only the first act.

A vibration from his phone drew his attention away momentarily as he checked the text. A smirk adorned his face as he replaced the phone in his pocket and returned his gaze to the one before him.

"They are here." Ivar stated, "should I wake your friend? He's been unconscious for some time now."

The traitor remained silent, his eyes staring at the gray floor, even as blood slid down his skin like raindrops. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, almost as if in meditation. But Ivar knew better. The man was waiting. Biding his time. Enduring the pain until the others came.

Unfortunately for him, no amount of waiting would save him from what was to come.

Ivar glanced over to the other man on the left. Before he had even been restrained, the man had pissed himself and was begging for mercy, crying out and spewing secrets and half-truths in the futile hope for forgiveness. At the first pass of knives over his flushed skin, he fainted.

Fucking pathetic.

At Ivar's command, buckets of cold water had been tossed on the sniveling coward to awaken him. He would not get away from his prescribed torment. Not that easily. Twice the man fainted while receiving his medicine. And twice Ivar had him painfully revived. This third time, Ivar allowed him longer in his brief respite. But no longer.

The day of vengeance had arrived for those who betrayed the Lothbroks, and Ivar would see they were conscious for every moment of it.

"Wake him up."

At Ivar's command, his white-haired driver picked up the bucket at his feet and tossed it on the unconscious man.

The man sputtered and gagged, returning to the land of the living and the land of his torment. Immediately he began whimpering, as if that could save him. As if anything could save him now.

The echo of footfalls on the wooden staircase sounded in the basement.

Ivar's smile widened as he met the pained but calm eyes of the traitor kneeling before him. "Better start fucking begging for forgiveness."

Ragnar came around the corner, followed by Lagertha and Bjorn. A gasp filled the air once they came into sight. A sound of recognition. A sound of disbelief.

“Please! I'm sorry! He made me do it!” The coward began sobbing, his whole naked body shuddering at the strength of his cries and voice. “Please! I didn't–”

“Silence!” Ragnar roared, drawing close, eyeing both men. A predator inspecting the prey. His bright eyes glared at both men, focusing most of his anger on the one known to him. “You thought you could betray me?” He crouched before them, studying them, reading them. A devilish grin grew on his lips after a moment. “How'd that go?”

He chuckled darkly as he stepped to the side, already knowing the outcome but here to watch the show. With a quick glance to the side, he gave permission for another to step forward and to hear the case.

The coward continued to whimper but wisely made no move to steak. A pity really, Ivar was hoping to cut out his tongue.

"Kalf?" Lagertha asked, coming closer. The initial look of shock faded away, leaving behind confusion and anger. A deadly combination.

"Lagertha, there's been a misunder-" Kalf started to say but cried out in pain after Ivar hit him on the side of his head with his wolf's head cane.

Ivar returned the cane to his side, leaning back in his plastic chair casually. "Tsk tsk. You do not speak unless spoken to." He shifted his gaze to his father's first wife. “All the evidence is on the table over there.”

Lagertha followed the nod of Ivar's head, looking towards a table pressed against the wall. On it were stacks of papers, all the threads from the web of betrayal, cut and laid out to prove his betrayal. Every string, every conversation, every transaction, every knot in the thread. The damning evidence Ivar had been gathering for months. All there in black and white.

With a resigned sigh, Lagertha glanced down to Ivar. “I believe you.”

Ivar nodded silently, shifting the cane from his left hand to his right, still encased in the damn cast. He had never liked Lagertha and she had never liked him. They tolerated one another but that was the extent, prefering to avoid one another's company in casual or public settings. Except when it came to business. There was an unspoken respect they harbored for one another in this one regard; and for her to take Ivar's word alone on this matter, furthered his respect for her.

He did notice that Bjorn walked over and started leafing through the papers. Maybe his eldest brother was finally learning to use his half-wit brain.

The fierce businesswoman moved to stand in front of her lover, seemingly uncaring of the splatters of blood and shredded clothing under her heeled boots. “Why?”

He opened his mouth, eyes full of hurt and hope, but before any sounds escaped, she cut him off.

“Do not lie to me, Kalf.” She practically snarled, a she-wolf rising in fury, with no sight of a heartbroken lover.

He gazed at her, tone beseeching. “I did it for us.”

Her hand moved so fast that even Ivar did not catch it until the loud sound of a smack echoed in the basement, followed by Kalf's grunt as his head jerked to the side.

“If you did it for us, you would have included me in your schemes.”

Kalf worked his jaw before returning his gaze to his lover. “I planned on it, but–”

Another smack reverberated in the air.

“Try again.” Lagertha spat out.

Ivar could see it. The moment Kalf's pretense swiftly crumbled. His face hardened, eyes switching from a hopeful innocence to angry slits. His body tensed as if preparing to fight back, to finally show some spine and no longer take the abuse.

“I knew we could run the organization better. Make more money and be unstoppable. But I knew…I fucking knew you'd never leave Ragnar. You'd never leave his side because you'll always be his side bitch. So I did what I had to.” Kalf grinned but there was no humor. Blood darkened his teeth, giving him a monstrous look. “Does that make you feel better, baby? I'd have given you everything but you'll always run back to Ragnar. You never stopped loving him, you just got better at hiding it. What a fucking waste. I would have made you a queen!”

Lagertha yanked out a pistol from the holster on her thigh and aimed it at Kalf's head. Hand steady. Lips in a thin line. Eyes focused on him. A she-wolf ready for the kill.

Kalf chuckled darkly. “You won't do it, my love. You don't like getting your hands dirty.”

Ivar waited to see the outcome. Ragnar already commanded that Lagertha was to choose Kalf's fate. A fucking waste in Ivar's opinion but he relented. Hopefully he would be given the other one, an example needed to be made. Although the other man was only the accountant to scrub the books and try to hide the betrayal, not the mastermind that Kalf was, he was still involved. That was enough to earn his death. Preferably at Ivar's hands.

But Kalf's death would be decided by Lagertha.

Ragnar and Bjorn watched from the sidelines, witnesses to the impending justice against their organization and family. Holding a paper in each hand, fury coated Bjorn's face, understanding of the undermining that had been allowed to run rampant for too long, especially by one he trusted. With arms crossed and an impassive expression, Ragnar watched on. When Ivar caught his eye, he received a nod but returned his gaze to the show, waiting for his ex wife to make a decision. All the papers and what they represented were already reviewed by Ragnar as Ivar discovered the treachery.

After a long tense moment, a gun shot rang out. Almost deafening in the small basement. Yet no one flinched. The sound as familiar as birdsong for those still breathing.

Surprise and pleasure flooded through Ivar as the coward's head lolled loosely, brains blown out and splattered on the wall and floor. Payment for his crime painted for all to see.

Kalf jerked his head to look at his accomplice and then back to his lover, confusion and shock in the lines of his face.

“You shouldn't have dragged Philippe into your mess.” Lagertha calmly said, replacing her pistol at her thigh. “Ivar, he's all yours. Do with him what you want.” She took a step back. “Good bye, Kalf.” Then with the poise of a queen, she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, washing her hands of her former lover and his demise.

In the next moment, a hand landed on Ivar's shoulder. “Good work.” His father commended. He gave him one more fatherly pat before following Lagertha up the stairs.

Ivar grimaced as he knew his father was following his first wife to help her blow off some steam. Something that happened but no one spoke of.

A different set of footsteps came to his other side. As Ivar looked up at his eldest brother, a grimace on his own face at his parents, echoed Ivar's own sentiments. With a shake of his head, Bjorn looked down at Kalf who had gone suspiciously silent and still.

“I thought she would shoot you…guess she thought that was too fucking easy for you.”

Kalf spat out a bloody mess towards Bjorn's leather shoes, eyes blazing and fresh blood trickled down his chin.

“Have fun with that one.” Bjorn said. “And try to keep your cast clean. Fuck, you'll never get all that blood out.”

“I'll get a new fucking one. Fucking hell.”

“Fine.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you going to do with him?”

Ivar shrugged, examining the man like a piece of marble waiting to be sculpted. “Cut off each of his own fingers and make him eat them?”

“That's disgusting.” Bjorn shuddered. “Don't take too long. We need you in Spain. We got a call on the way here.”

“What happened?”

“I'll fill you in after your fun, but it sounds like you'll be there a few days.”

“Okay.”

The eldest Lothbrok son opened his mouth for a moment, then stopped to lick his lips before starting quietly again. “Have you…have you heard from her yet?”

There was only one her that Bjorn could possibly be referring to and it made Ivar's blood boil even as his heart shattered.

“Shut the fuck up.” Ivar seethed, fingering the head of his cane, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he broke Bjorn's shins by striking him.

As if sensing the impending violence, Bjorn backed away. “Call me when you're done here.”

Ivar grunted, still beyond pissed his brother would bring her up right now.

“You know…my mom mentioned that Kalf had an almost irrational fear of fire.”

At Bjorn's lazy comment, Kalf's head lifted to stare at Ivar, face blanched and eyes wide with panic.

A truly ferocious grin appeared on the youngest Lothbrok's face at the pure terror radiating from the man before him. Even when his flesh had been pierced with Ivar's knives, beaten with Ivar's cane, the man had endured without fear. Oh, but the sweet scent of terror that radiated off him now…

Ivar barely heard Bjorn's retreating footsteps up the stairs. He turned to look at his driver, his long white hair tied back, highlighting his cruel scar on the side of his face.

“Toss me your lighter.”

Pleas for mercy tainted the air, but not for long.

*********

As he stepped out of the elevator, it took all of his mental capability to keep his feet moving purposefully and his gait steady. His eyes were gritty and dry from lack of sleep, his body threatened to revolt against his restless mind and collapse in desperate need of rest. He refused to acknowledge it, propelling himself forward. After this one last meeting, he would allow himself to give in and seek the rest his body so desperately needed.

Ignoring those scurrying around, he passed the several offices on the top floor of Ragnarssons Trading. The scowl he wore must have been fearsome for how quickly it made those plebeians scatter out of his way. Wise on their part. He was in no mood for empathy or kindness, traits he was not commonly known for anyway. He just wanted to fucking sleep. The temptation to stab anyone who tried to stop him was exceptionally high.

“You live!”

“Fuck off.” Ivar grumbled, more out of habit than true ill intent. Well, if he tried to stop him, there may be some violence.

Falling into step with him, Hvitserk looked smart in his gray suit, a clear contrast from Ivar's own rumpled jeans with t-shirt and leather jacket. “How was Spain? No, wait, you were just in Morocco. Or was it Turkey again?”

“India.”

“Hmm…What I heard, you've spent more time in dungeons and airplanes than in a bed. Those bags under your eyes make you look like a zombie. Ah hell, when did you last sleep?”

Ivar grunted, annoyed with his brother's ceaseless chatter and the reminder of his lack of self-care. “Father in his office?”

“I think so. I was about to go for a late lunch. Want me to wait for you?”

“No, I'd probably fall asleep before the food came.”

Hvitserk chuckled but did not dispute the claim.

The pair arrived at the door for Ragnar's office. With a quick knock on the wood and a following ‘enter’, Hvitserk opened the door for them.

Ragnar sat at his large desk, an organized chaos to all the things upon it. Scattered papers and files resided in piles, along with a cheap, tourist paper map of Stockholm spread out and a bronzed human skull which Ragnar refused to admit if it was real or not. Ivar had always bet it was real.

Torstein also occupied the room, standing behind the desk beside Ragnar, pointing at the laptop screen open in front of them. They must have been continuing speaking of logistics for a particular expansion of goods into Stockholm.

At their entrance, Ragnar kept his gaze on the screen while addressing him. “I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”

“I can just as easily report today.” Ivar ungraciously plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of Ragnar's desk. He winced at the impact and the sharp pain shooting down his legs. With more care, he set his right hand, still in the cast, on the arm rest.

At Ivar's audible pained inhale, Ragnar aimed his piercing gaze at his youngest son. “You look like shit.”

Ivar snorted. “The devil doesn't sleep and neither do I.”

That made Ragnar smirk and Torstein chuckle. From the other seat beside him, Ivar could feel Hvitserk's eye roll. Everyone knew that Ivar had been running himself ragged, anything to keep himself busy, which usually involved his face glued to a computer or phone screen or blood on his hands. Ever since Kalf's fall from grace and his fiery demise, Ivar had been cauterizing the wound left in the company…and reminding people what happened when they placed themselves on the Lothbrok's bad side.

“Suit yourself. Tor, finish this and I'll make a phone call–” Ragnar spoke to his friend but Ivar tuned him out.

He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest as he waited. His father was not wrong. He felt like shit. Then again, he had felt like shit for the past three weeks now, ever since Kari had told him she needed space. So he focused on what he could do for the family business. Anything to distract himself from what his heart yearned for. During this time, he learned it was easier to feel physically shitty and move on. It was much harder to ignore and move on when his heart was fractured and bleeding her name.

Eyes closed, his mind began to drift lazily like an autumn leaf, thoughts moving at a sluggish pace due to his exhaustion. He had tried to sleep in his car on the way here from the airport but sleep eluded him- still too wound up from the flight, too many cigarettes and too much caffeine. The trifecta of sleep deprivation. He never slept on planes, even on private planes, he could never relax enough. Especially when they flew over open water.

A buzzing from his pocket jerked him out of his almost meditative state. Without opening his eyes, he dug around in his pocket and pulled his personal phone out. Only a few people had his private number, preferring to direct most of his calls to his work phone, which lay silent in his other pocket.

“‘eah?” He mumbled amidst a sudden yawn.

A hesitant but professional male voice spoke. “Mr Lothbrok?”

“Huh?”

“Is this–ah, is this Ivar Lothbrok?”

His brain awoke on full alert at the implementation that a stranger had his personal number. “Who the fuck are you?” Those sluggish thoughts went into overdrive, trying to recognize the voice or how this fucker got a hold of his number.

“I'm Nurse Olsen, calling from the General Hospital. A patient we have gave us your name and number as an emergency contact. My apologies for bothering you, we just needed to verify. Do you know a Kari Larsen?”

What racing thoughts died a spectacular death by crashing into a wall of shock and disbelief.

Someone was calling him about Kari.

As an emergency contact.

From a hospital.

Where she is a patient.

A PATIENT!

In a strange form of whiplash, his brain went from a screeching halt in shock to overdrive of all the reasons she could possibly be in the hospital, each scenario worse than its predecessor. “Is she hurt?” He wheezed out, as his heart and lungs threatened to be strangled with the sudden fear that exploded within him.

“Sir, I'm not allowed to discuss patients’ wellbeings over the phone–”

“IS SHE HURT?!” He screamed, the building panic in his chest rising higher and higher, suffocating him.

His mind easily conjured her laying in a hospital bed, nurses and doctors swarming her like parasites, sticking tubes in her, cleaning up her precious blood, all in an attempt to save her. She laid there unconscious to her precarious position. Or maybe she was screaming for him. That was how they got his number. She needed him as she lay dying.

He drew a ragged breath but it failed to relieve the painful pressure in his chest. Gods, if she died….he promised. He promised to take care of her.

A new level of loathing sunk its claws into him, a demon from the darkest pits burrowed into his mind, taunting, tormenting.

He had promised.

And he failed.

Again.

“Mr Lothbrok, are you able to come to the hospital?” The nurse sighed before speaking again.

“Yes.” He croaked out.

“Excellent, what you can do is park–”

But the nurse's explanation was cut off as Ivar ended the call.

Ivar stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself. The floor beneath him shifted and rolled like waves. Or maybe it was the demon cackling in his ears, messing with his equilibrium. Spots danced in his vision but he ignored them, pushing past. He had to get to her. He had to see her. Was his heart even beating anymore? His chest burned, each breath a struggle to take. As he tried to slip his phone back into his pocket, he realized his hands were shaking. Or was it his whole body?

What exhaustion previously had taken root was brutally ripped out and replaced with a buzzing, paralyzing panic.

“Ivar? What happened?” Hvitserk's voice broke through. His hands grabbed his younger brother's shoulders, saving him from falling in his unstable haste to move. “Ivar?!”

“I–I have to go to the hospital.” Tears welled in his eyes, that terror and panic finally having risen to his mind, strangling his rationality, constricting his thoughts until all he could think of was Kari and he failed.

“What happened? Oh shit. Is…was that about Kari?” Hvitserk's eyes widened in horror.

“She's there.” Ivar gasped, weakly pushing his brother aside, hands still shaking. ”She's there right now. I have to go– fuck, I've got to see her.”

Stumbling, forcing himself faster than his crippled legs would allow, to escape the way his chest was collapsing even as he fought for breath, fought for each step. He had to see her. There was no other option.

She had to be okay. His kitten. He refused. He fucking refused to believe she was dying, even as his mind continued to create horrific scenes.

This was not how he wanted to be reunited with her.

Hvitserk grabbed his arm, steadying his erratic pace. “I'm coming with you.”

Gratitude swelled within Ivar but the panic clogging his throat refused to let the words pass.

The two rushed into the hallway, as fast as Ivar's crippled legs would allow. Hvitserk already had his phone out, calling Ivar's driver to have his car ready at the front for them. At the pounding footfalls behind them, Ivar glanced over his shoulder to see Ragnar following like an intimidating guardian angel.

Ragnar snarked. “Hurry your ass up or I'll carry you on my back like when you were a boy.”

“You're too fragile, old man.” Ivar managed to retort.

“Shut the fuck up, you little asshole, and let's go get your girl.”

As the three of them hurried out of the building, the same thought swirled like a growing storm in his mind.

Hold on, Kari, I'm coming. Just please hold on.

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

51 notes · View notes

underscorewriting · 1 year

Note

Could you do one where the reader is Lagertha younger sister and in a relationship with ivar the boneless

this. this is the one I might be the most excited for to write!

Thank you for your request :)

May the gods forbid.

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: Language probably?

Words: 2.425

This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was. He wasn't supposed to happen. The gods were playing tricks on her, this couldn't be real. She wanted to hate him, hate how he despised her sister. He was a smartass, an arrogant little boy with anger issues if something didn't go his way.

One son of Ragnar was her greatest fear for her younger sister. Ivar. He was unpredictable and even though the girl was taught how to fight, Lagertha knew that she would not be good enough to protect herself from him. That was the main reason why Lagrtha forbid her sister to leave her side. Lagertha was always very protective of her, even more when the sons of Aslaug and Ragnar started planning to kill her or hurt her the same way she hurt them by killing their mother.

So one night when the girl was upset and searched for a place to hide away, she walked into the woods. Flokis and Helgas place always brought her the most comfort when her and Lagertha fought, those were the times she thought the girl was quietly in her chamber. Sitting down in a small meadow, she leaned back, watching the stars, inhaling the fresh air.

Rustling behind her made her hand quickly shoot to the dagger she kept on her thigh. "Well don't you look cozy." The cold voice of the prince made her flinch as she sat up completely, her body being on alert if he tried anything. "What do you want, Ivar?" The exhaustion from was as clear in her voice and how she said his name as it was on her face. She didn't want to live like this. To live a life that held nothing for her, since she wasn't allowed to do much. Even her nephew Björn was always watching over her when he was here.

Tilting his head Ivar studied her face for a second before crawling over to her and settling down besides her. "I decided I won't kill you." He pursed his lips looking over at her a playful glint in his eyes. "Not yet at least." A small smile pulled at her lips as she averted her face. "Ubbe told us about how Lagertha screamed at you. She was always quiet..." A stern glare from the girl made the boy hold his hands up in defense, a small smirk on his face as he saw her hand moving away from the dagger, finally starting to relax.

Ivar was a simple man, his plan to kill Lagertha was only left uncompleted due to his attraction to her little sister and now having her here in front of him was something he didn't know he longed for. Looking back up at the sky she sighed in frustration. "How is the world out there? You traveled didn't you?" Sitting up straight she turned to him.

The young princes eyebrows raised in surprise as he smiled slightly. "The world is huge, it has so much to see." pouting slightly the girl cursed her sister as she listened to Ivars stories. He told her all about Wessex and the people there, how different their belief are from theirs, which she as well found hilarious. As the night turned colder they took the path back to their home. Not once did they stop talking about what he saw out there and what she would want to see once she'll get out there.

"Gods, I want to see the world, Ivar." Smiling softly she twirled and inhaled the fresh air. Watching her Ivar felt his heart swell at the sight of her carefreeness. "I want to show it to you." His tone was serious and when she looked at him she saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Ivar..." Her voice was a mere whisper, shaking her head she sat down in the dirt near a haystack.

"We can't. Lagertha would never allow this. She wouldn't allow us, Ivar..." She was desperate for him to understand that this would never happen, but he was not having any of it. He would take what he want and if he wanted to have her, then he was going to have her. "Your sister does not control you, nor does anyone else. You should be able to live your life how you want it to be, the gods forbid that you won't live it to the fullest."

Looking around she kissed his cheek quickly. "I'll meet with you in the meadow tomorrow night, don't be late!" She turned around as she quickly ran to her chambers, smiling brightly at him before entering. The young prince couldn't help but grin at her actions, feeling a little giddy himself.

After that night they started sneaking around at night, only sharing small meaningful glances at each other when they passed one another or during a feast. Soon Lagertha grew suspicious, but not because she noticed any of the glances, no, it was because suddenly her sister started training more, stopped questioning her about being able to travel. It was as if she suddenly stopped caring about all that.

Ubbe offered to train with her, Lagertha trusted him so she allowed him to take her sister to the woods during the day as well. Ivar told his brothers about her and how he wanted to see her at any costs as much as he could. In the woods the four of them would train, Ivar didn't trust Sigurd close to her, due to disgusting glances he threw her way when she was merely visiting them over the past years.

She soon found herself growing closer to the brothers and feeling accepted by them. Freedom, was so close she could almost taste it. Walking with Ivar at night was her newly found escape, after he got his greave done for his legs and fixed up his crutches they could even hold hands while walking. Him rubbing her hand soothingly with his thumb, placing ocationally kisses onto her palm , whenever she talked about something that upset her. He enjoyed listening to her almost as much as her gentle kisses he would get to feel whenever his pain was unbearable.

They balanced each other nicely and after a few months the word marriage appeared more and more in their talks about their future. The girl was scared of how her sister would react to her and the youngest Ragnarsson being inseparable and spent every minute they could together.

But she didn't need to tell her, because one day during her and Ubbes training lessons, while she was play fighting with Ivar . Lagertha walked up the path, none of them noticed her sharp eyes watching. Ivar had her pinned down, laughing while she tried to push him of before rolling over and sitting on his stomach, having the prince at her mercy making her grin down at him.

Ubbe and Hvitserk were watching them, drinking ale and laughing at what the other said. Lagertha was disappointed in her, why didn’t she tell her that they were lovers? She continues watching them and filled an old familiar pain in her heart. Ivar was holding her sister now, not strong enough to hurt but strong enough to let her know he had control over the situation but her sister seemed completely fine with it as she leaned into his chest looking up at him with gentle eyes and a loving smile.

Ivars smile matched hers and in this exact moment Lagertha realized that she kept her sister protected from the most beautiful thing out there, a thing she herself shared with Ragnar even after his death. Love. Ivar was similar to Ragnar in many ways, but with her in his arms he resembled his father more than anyone would guess. Of course, she didn’t want her sister to be with someone like Ivar, he was dangerous, but if it is him that makes her as happy as she is right now, then that is all she would ask for.

Returning to her throne back in the great hall Lagertha couldn’t stop thinking about how she should’ve noticed the signs. Ivar was more around than he used to be, it wasn’t his normal behavior. Besides he was being a lot kinder than usual. As Torvi entered the great hall she noticed how lost in thoughts the queen was. „What is the matter?“ She said as she walked next to to sit down by her side. „Did you know about Ivar and my sister?“ Lagertha turned to Torvi catching the younger woman smile apologetic. „Ubbe said I wasn’t supposed to tell you, I apologize.“

As she heard giggles and laughter she could tell the four of them were coming closer, she prepared herself to confront her sister about this. But how was she supposed to? She was spying on her when she found out, not having had one good reason to walk out there in the woods except to check up on her actually being there. Ubbe was the first one to walk into the great hall, he noticed something was up when Torvi didn’t greet him right away. The girl was still outside giggling and whispering. Her whispers could be heard in the whole hall. Quietness settled in as the last three of them walked in, the girl walking a little behind but smiling brightly whenever Ivar would turn around to see if she was still there with him.

„Hello sister!“ The girl greeted and smiles brightly at Lagertha. The queen did not respond, making her feel uneasy as she glanced toward Ubbe, who sighed quietly looking down. Instantly the girl knew what was going on. Panicking she walked closer to her, a nervous laugh escaping her as she looked back to Ivar in reassurance. „It isn’t like you think…“ Lagerthas raised an eyebrow making the girl feel even more uneasy. „Well then how is it? Because it looks like my sister is keeping secrets from me. Keeping secrets because she thinks I don’t want to see her happy or loved.“

The girl gasped softly wondering just how much her sister had seen. „Lagertha, I promise you I do not have any intentions behind my bond with your sister. It’s about her not about you or how you killed my mother.“ Ivar broke the silence looking at Lagertha with pure hatred but his eyes seemed to soften when he looked over at the girl standing close to her. The girl flinched at Ivars harsh words. The woman on the throne couldn’t stop herself from laughing. „I did not even think about that for a second Ivar, because you wouldn’t even be able to.“

„Sister, Ivar would be capable of ruling over Kattegat just as well as you are. His ideas for this village are incredible. If you would just listen to them you’d see how capable he would be to do everything he wanted to.“ With wide eyes the girl just realized what she said, covering her mouth she looked down. „I’m sorry I spoke out of tune.“ Lagertha studied her and saw a lot of how she acted because of Ragnar in her sister, smiling slightly. As her eyes wandered to Ivar, she caught him smirking, his eyes glistening with pride and love as his eyes wandered over her figure.

Getting of her throne Lagertha stopped only in front of her. Her hand went up to cup her cheek, making the girl flinch. The boy tried to crawl over to them making sure the girl stayed unharmed, but Ubbe held him back making the young boy fight against his hold. „He makes you happy, doesn’t he?“ Lagerthas voice was quiet as she smiled down at her sister softly. Nodding her head the girl looked back up at her. „More than anything.“ Her eyes held a sincerity that the woman saw rarely. She was a bit taken aback by her truthfulness. Of course, she was upset about it having to be Ivar. Hvitserk would’ve been easier to accept but sadly that’s not what happened. „How could it be him, he is cruel and no good for you, my sweet sister…“ She could see Ivar lowering his head, knowing that Lagertha was right about him being cruel, not being good enough for the girl.

„He wants to show me the world. He isn’t cruel, he is just easy to upset and in pain, Lagertha…“ Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how bad Ivars legs had been these past weeks. „The gods are cruel to him sometimes, so I pray. I pray to them to stop it and he starts to feel better. He is not a cruel man, Lagertha. He just isn’t!“ Her hands were trembling as she clenched them into fists. Lagertha could only stare at her in shock. For how long was their relationship kept a secret from her? „How long did you feel like this about him?“ She grew angry for being held in the dark that long. „All of this started a little over six months ago…“ The girls head hung low as she fidgeted with her fingers.

Looking at her hand she noticed a little mark on her ring finger looking over at Ivar she saw the same small mark on the same finger. „You’re thinking about marriage…“ She gasped quietly taking a step back from her sister. „I accept your decision, but I do not support it. Though I will give you my blessing only because I haven’t seen you happy like this in ages. You are my little sister and I love you and I want you to be loved. As much as I don’t like Ivar, I have to say that he truly seems to love you and care for you.“ Smiling widely the girl hugged her sister tightly, throwing her arms around her. „Thank you!“ She repeated those words until she turned to Ivar grinning at him shyly.

Ivar walked over to her cupping her cheek before he kissed her forehead and leaned his against hers. „I told it would work out somehow, my love. May the gods forbid anything would part us until we both are on our way to dine with the gods in Valhalla.“

Lagertha couldn’t fight the smile as she watched the both of them. Even though she disliked Ivar, she was certain he would treat her right. Maybe even better than Ragnar treater her. She could tell in his smile, in his eyes, in every action towards her sister, that he adored her.

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar x reader #ivar fluff #ivar imagine #vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar the king #ivar x you #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar fanfic #vikings ivar #modern ivar #ivar x oc #ivar vikings #ivar smut

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paracosmoon · 2 years

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king harald finehair would've risked it all for megan thee stallion

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istorkyou · 7 months

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A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings- Angst, violence, death, smut.

Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?

Word Count - 3113

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

Masterlist

Chapter 14 - Final Chapter

He is in a meeting when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Well, it’s not really a meeting, more of an information gathering session in a warehouse involving sharp instruments and spilled blood. He’s been taking on more and more of these ‘meetings’ since she disappeared, a good way to expel some of his rage and sadness productively.

He walks away from the man he is dealing with, wipes his hands on a cloth and gets his phone out to an interesting message on his screen.

One of her passports was used to get into the country three hours ago.

A smile quirks onto his lips very briefly followed by a deep inhalation of breath.

“You, take over from here. Just kill him. I’ve got the information I need now.”

He hears a gunshot behind him as he heads out to his armoured SUV to take him back to the estate.

When he arrives back he doesn’t go to the main house but straight to their house. He knows Ragnar would have got the same message and he needs to check something out first before he sees his father. He hurries to their shared closet, still full of her clothes and he pulls out the black shoes with the red soles, her stash spot, pulling out an untraceable phone. He turns it on and waits. The phone beeps twice. Two messages. Both from anonymous numbers, both from her.

Coming home. Too dangerous now.

See me before they get to me? I will come alone. I miss you so much.

He texts back quickly.

Yes. Will message soon. I love you. Thank you for all the photos last week, baby.

As he stashes the phone back he lets his finger run over the notebook that took him less than three days to decipher. One of the reasons he searched so hard for her and established secret communication. He cried for days when he broke the code and read her words. An anthology of love, dating from the night they met, describing every feeling she ever had for him, her deep love, the light he had reignited inside her after years of living in the black. Much as he had before he met her. The reasons why she acted as she did after Sardinia, the threats made against his life, the coldness she showed him when underneath she felt nothing but adoration. She explained it all in a diary she never intended for anyone to read. Her soul lives in these pages, and so does his.

Always and forever, no matter how far apart.

———————

He heads to the main house and into his fathers study.

”I am sure you’ve seen the message. She has returned.” Ragnar says without looking up from his papers.

Ivar nods. “I’ll take care of it. She will contact me soon, I’m sure of it.”

Ragnar looks up and stares into his son's eyes, carbon copies of his own. “Will you be able to finish the job this time? She cannot live, Ivar. She simply must die. If you feel like you can’t do it, or she will get the drop on you again I’ll send a whole team to hunt her down.”

“I’ll do it father. She is my responsibility. I will not fuck it up again. I’ll let you know when she contacts me and what the plan is from there.”

Ragnar nods in agreement and rounds his desk to embrace his son. “I am sorry for this, sorry it has to be done. You understand though?”

“I do. It’s been a long time coming,” Ivar says tersely, “I’ll speak to you soon.”

———————

He leaves the estate in his own vehicle, he drives for an hour and no one is following him. He pulls into a multi-storey car park and switches cars and drives for an hour to another car park and does the same.

It’s dark by the time he reaches the hotel. A shitty, off the track hotel he’d never be seen dead in usually. He walks as quickly as he can to a door and knocks three times.

The door opens a fraction and he pushes it the rest of the way, slowly revealing his wife to him. She has her gun pointed at him.

“Alone?”

“Alone, baby.” He steps in and shuts the door behind him before they walk quickly towards each other, arms pulling the other into a tight embrace, clinging to the other, tears falling.

“I missed you so much, Liet.”

“Fuck I missed you so much too.”

They pull at each other’s clothing, frantic to get the other naked as quickly as possible. When their goal is managed they fall onto the crappy, lumpy hotel bed together on their sides, her leg over his waist before he pushes her onto her back and he crawls over her, their mouths attached the whole time. She grabs his hard cock and lines him up a half a second before he pushes deep into her.

Their mirrored groans into each other’s mouths make them giggle.

“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” he says into her mouth before moving her inside of her, drawing deep, low moans from her. “I missed you every second of every day.”

“Me too, Ivar. Harder, please, harder!”

Their fingers dig into each other's skin, pulling into the other, trying to close the millimetres left between their bodies, a desperate need to feel every part of the other, a desperate need to fill the two year gap since they last were with each other physically.

It takes no time for their knowledge of each other’s bodies to kick in and they make each other orgasm. Shuddering against each other, the air blue with obscenities.

When they finally loosen their grip on the other they stay as close as possible, noses touching, laying on their sides, hands running up each other’s backs.

“Hi, baby,” he laughs out.

“Hi, love,” she giggles in reply.

They just stare at each other, who knows for how long. Long enough for him to run his hand through her longer hair. To run his fingers over some new scarring on her body. Long enough for her to touch his thigh where she inflicted a break. Long enough to revel in his eyes and compare them to his.

“Anyone since us, Ivar? Are you happy?”

“No one. No one ever again. Always and forever, baby. You?”

“Never for me, Ivar. You and only you. I need you to be happy again though. After all this.”

Ivar waves his hand as if dismissing her words. There is no point in lying to her, pretending he will ever let anyone in again so he just changes the subject.

“I did what you asked, love, I killed Lev.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she lets out a giggle of relief. “Thank you, Ivar. How?”

“I peeled his skin off slowly and I made him watch videos of us when we were happy, after the accident. He begged for your forgiveness and his life in the end, love.”

A nasty sneer flashes across her face. “Good, he deserves every second of pain you inflicted on him.”

A comfortable silence settles between them again before Ivar breaks it. “Where is he, Liet?”

“He’s safe I promise. I will need to get back to him in the early morning. That’s why I’m back, it’s too dangerous now. I’ve had too many close calls and I’m frightened for him. He needs stability, Ivar. I’m done running. I’m here to face what I need to, and to give you your son. You need to keep him safe from now on. I can’t offer him that any longer.”

Ivar knew this is why she had come back. Knew his men had almost caught her in Belize. Had heard rumours of her father almost tracking her down in Peru. Ivar almost gave himself away numerous times trying to throw them off her and their sons scent, Ragnar was suspicious at one point and that was when the Belize incident happened. He had warned her but a little too late. He begged her to bring his son back to him but she wasn’t ready.

She is ready now.

Ivar clears his throat, trying to dislodge the ball in it. “I am going to talk to my father. Things are different now, with the baby. I… I’ll talk sense into him. We can be toget…” the rest of his sentence is cut off by her lips crashing his. When she pulls away she gives him a little smile.

“Ivar. We’ve talked about this. Your father will not allow me to live, for his reputation and his own peace of mind. I knew coming back here it would be the end for me, I’m under no illusion I will not die tomorrow. I thought you had come to terms with it, baby?” She runs her hand over his furrowed brow and her thumb wipes a tear away. “Even if Ragnar allowed it, which he absolutely will not, I wouldn’t allow it. If my father knew I was back, knew about our son, he would never stop coming for me, for him. He wouldn't stop until we were all cold in the ground, everyone, your mother, father and brothers. There would be no peace until he had our son in his care. I can not allow that. I’m here so our baby can have a life without being hunted for the mistakes I made.” She is aware her voice isn’t as soft as she would like it to be, but she also knows that Ivar responds to this cold, detached hard truth. “I have loved you enough for a whole lifetime, this is how it has to be, love. You know this.”

He doesn’t reply, he nods stiffly and a silence settles between them.

“Liet. He will always know about you, I’ll never let him forget how much you love him, how much we love each other. No one will poison his mind against you.”

His heart breaks entirely to pieces as she crumbles down in front of him. She knows this is her last night on this Earth. Her actual last night this time. She is giving herself up for the sake of their baby. Their 14 month old baby who has his fathers eyes nestled in the features of his mother.

The greatest sacrifice a mother can make.

“Ivar, try to raise him out of this life. I know that won’t be easy, but send him to college, make him useful away from the violence. Make sure my father doesn’t get to him. Make sure Ragnar doesn’t ruin him. I’m trusting you with our baby, Ivar. You need to do for him what my past had robbed from me, a chance at a happy future. Be soft with him, like you are with me. Be loving and supportive no matter who he turns out to be or the choices he makes. Show him my Ivar, not the Ivar everyone else sees. Promise me?”

“I promise. I will be the best father,” Ivar says resolutely.

She gives him a genuine smile. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will.”

“Tell me more about him, baby.”

They spend the next few hours talking about him, his likes, his dislikes, how he sleeps curled up next to her every night with his favourite Elephant cuddly. She explains how rough the next few months will be for Ivar, he is his daddy but FaceTime can’t replicate a real connection. She explains how to best comfort him, what songs to sing him and how to make him laugh, what she wants for him in the future. She tells Ivar she has written letters for when he is older so he can understand what happened, but that it will be up to Ivar to judge when and if he feels their son can handle the information. Ivar says nothing, he just soaks up every word.

“I think that’s it.” She glances at her watch.”I will send you a text at 11am to tell me to meet me at 4pm. Your father will intercept it, we both know he will send someone. Just…. Just cover his eyes before, promise me you won’t both watch me die.”

“I promise. I promise you. We have 8 hours until I need to be home to get the message.”

“8 hours.”

“Those hours are for us and us only.” He reaches for his phone, and taps until the room is filled with music.

Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac.

He stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come dance with me one last time, baby.”

Her eyes mist over again as she goes to him, clinging to him tightly. She closes her eyes, compartmentalises the coming day and enjoys every second they have remaining.

————————-

9am rolls around and it’s time for him to go.

They cling to each other before she loosens her grip and grabs his face, pulling it closer to hers.

“In the next life, Ivar. I will find you in the next and every life we have after. Look after our baby.”

He holds her face, forehead touching hers. “This life and the next. I love you. I will keep him safe. I promise on everything I am, my beautiful Liet. The bravest person I’ve ever met, my fighter, my Valkyrie.”

They share a kiss, a kiss so full of love, pain, admiration and promise that they both smile and cry as they pull away and he leaves.

—————————

His phone beeps dead on 11am.

Meet me at warehouse 2c at 4pm. Just you. I have something for you.

He enters the main house to his father waiting in his study.

“You saw the message?” he asks his Father.

“I did. I wonder what she has for you?”

“A bullet in my brain I would imagine?”

Ragnar regards him, hard eyes travelling over his face. “Take your gun. You shoot her on sight. There is nothing she has that we need, nothing she can give you worth anything. Kill her and we can all move on.”

Ivar nods quickly. “That is my plan.” He turns to walk out of his fathers office.

Ragnar waits until the heavy slam of the front door hits his ears before picking up his phone. “4pm. The docks. Set up a sniper. Kill her if he hesitates.”

——————-

Ivar pulls up to the warehouse and sits for a second. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to stop the flow of tears that have been cascading down his face the whole 45 minute ride over. His heart is ripping to shreds inside his chest, despite having years to come to terms with it, a tiny sliver of bright hope lit his black soul thinking they could be a family one day. His rational brain knew it would never happen, she told him weekly it would never be the case, but the fact that the end is now is too much for him to bear.

But bear it he must. Not for her, or himself, but for their beautiful son.

He walks into the warehouse and his trained eyes see the minuscule glint from the sniper rifle up high in the corner. He will be sure to tell his father about the snipers fuck up.

His eyes find her, standing in the centre of the massive room, her back to him. His heart stops. She hasn’t brought the baby, he can’t see his son. When he is close enough he gets his gun out and points it at her.

“Liet?”

She turns slowly, their baby asleep in her arms, she doesn’t look at Ivar, she doesn’t take her eyes off their baby, soaking in every last second she has with him. He lowers his weapon as soon as he sees his son.

“The sniper is shit, love. I spotted him the second I walked in,” she chuckles lightly, “tell Ragnar I said he needs better men.

————

The sniper can’t hear what they are saying, and neither can Ragnar watching from his office from a camera feed attached to the rifle.

“Sir, she has a baby in her arms.”

“I can see that.”

“Shall I take the shot?”

“No. Do not dare. I’m pretty sure I am looking at my grandchild.” Ragnars eyes are full of tears. It’s been years since anything elicited such emotion from him. He understands now why Ivar has tried to keep her safe these past two years, not just out of love for her, but a fathers love for his child.

Ragnar wipes his eyes and rolls his shoulder. “Be ready. This is an exchange. When it’s done I will give the word.”

—————

Julietta gives Ivar a look of pure love. “Ready, baby? When I hand him to you I need you to turn away and walk out. Don’t watch me die, love. Okay?”

Ivar’s nods twice. They step towards each other, he drops his gun on the floor so he can embrace her one last time. With their foreheads touching, and tears on their faces she hands the baby to Ivar, bends down, sniffs the baby's head and kisses him before turning her attention back to his father, placing a slow kiss on his lips.

“In the next life, love,” she says

“Always and forever,” he replies.

She takes two steps back and Ivar swivels on his heels, clinging to his son, lurching away on his crutch.

———-

“Sir, shall I take the shot now?”

Ragnar is silent. His heart is breaking for his son but he knows what must be done. Even if he saw fit to let her live Ragnar knows her own father would never stop coming for her and if he were ever to catch up with her he would torture her to death. Ragnar rolls his shoulders and clenches his teeth.

———-

Ivar hears the pop and the whizz of the bullet from the sniper fly past him. He hears the grunt from her chest on impact and he hears as she falls to the floor with a thud.

The tears in his eyes blind him, he squeezes his eyes shut to clear them. He wants to scream up into the universe, make the whole world hear his pain. But he looks into the face of his sleeping son in his arms and knows he won’t, he won’t scare him. So he holds it in, to be let out at a later time when his son is not with him.

He will be the best father to their son

For her.

His beautiful Liet.

FIN.

#modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern vikings #ubbe #modern!ubbe #modern!hvitserk #ivar x oc #vikings fanfic #vikings imagine #vikings au #vikings ivar #ivar vikings #ivar #ivar smut #ivar fanfic #ivar imagine

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 2 years

Text

A Taste of Heaven Masterlist *ON HATUS*

Any smut chapters will be marked per Tumblr's community labels, you will need them turned to show to see them.

Contains: Lots of fluff, Smut (oral sex F and M receiving, P in V, CONSENT, food play but not feederism, gentle dom Hvitserk, fingering.) OC is a chronic pain/migraine sufferer, there will be themes of this throughout the story. Rest Your Weary Hands the relationship between the brother will be healthy and loving. Ivar will still have osteogenesis imperfecta. Food, cooking, recipe books, historical food and meals.

Smut💦 Angst😨 Fluff ❤ Violence🔪 Gore🤢 Medical 💉Triggering material🚩

Some of the chapters and snippets will be put to music, not listening to the music won't affect the story. Updates will vary, some days I might do two and other times I'll go a week without posting anything, there will be a time where I will open requests for snippets so you as the reader can have a piece of the universe I've cobbled together.

What's a snippet?

A snippet is an optional one-shot that adds context to the story and expands on some small themes that will appear throughout the story, not reading them won't affect the story but it will take away some of the more fluffy and/or mundane 'day in the life' elements.

After years of study and effort, you finally secure your dream job, as one of the head curators at the best museum in New York. After inheriting a huge brownstone you're looking for a roommate when your best friend Ubbe comes up with a suggestion, his younger brother Hvitserk. Better yet, you're a food historian and he's a three Michelin star chef.

Comment if you want to be tagged.

Prologue❤

Part 1❤

Part 2❤

Part 3😨❤

Part 4 😨🔪❤❤

Part 5❤❤❤❤❤❤💦

Part 6 ❤❤💦

Part 7❤💦💦💦

Part 8 😨❤💦

Part 9 😨❤💦

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crowwritesaway · 8 months

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Fanfiction for Ivar the Boneless

Would anyone be interested in reading and me finishing a fanfic that I started years ago. As if you are, should I post it on Wattpad, AO3...

Summary:

Riley Knight meets Ivar in a forest. Riley is someone who grew in a home that smothered her with "affection". He feels seen for the first time and becomes infatuated with her. Will Riley respond to his feelings?

#ivar fanfic #ivar the boneless x oc #ivar the boneless fanfic #modern ivar #modern ivar fanfic #Ivar x reader #ivar x female reader #vikings ivar the boneless fanfic

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we-are-only-halfway-home93 · 10 months

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Come and Lay the Roses 36- Angel of Mercy- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Aaline and Ivar are finally reunited.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence, sex, torture, language, mentions of rape/sexual assault

Ch. 35

AN: Wow. It's been a long time. I've been thinking about this chapter for a long time and haven't been able to pin down why I waited so long to update. Part of me blames writer's block, part of me blames my schedule and timing, but the biggest thing I think that kept me from updating was that this would mean the end of this journey.

I came up with the idea for this story in May 2019 and after four years, it's finally finished. I don't think I was ready to end this journey and part with Aaline and the Lothbrok clan. I've been telling myself for weeks that I need to finish it and I've finally decided that I'm ready to end this journey.

I thank all of you who have stuck with me on this adventure.

“Angel of mercy, how did you find me? How did you pick me up again? Angel of mercy, how did you move me? Why am I on my feet again?”

~ “Mercy” by OneRepublic

She was warm. A marked difference from the last few weeks of her existence. She inhaled deeply and slowly, allowing the world to come back into focus. She blinked and surveyed the room she was in.

It was her room. Her and Ivar’s. The curtains were closed except for a six inch gap that allowed sunlight to stream in and light up the dim room. There was just enough to maneuver the room but not wake her.

She shifted and winced at the sharp pain that lanced through her back. It would’ve been gracious to call the bed she’d slept on for the last few weeks a cot. It was barely more than a metal frame with a threadbare mattress. The metal bars had dug painfully into her bones for the few days she tried to sleep on it. Eventually she took to sleeping on the floor. It was more comfortable by far but still gave her stiff muscles. Sleeping on a real mattress had done little to ease the ache.

She shifted slowly up to her elbows and glanced around. Clothes were littered on the floor. A serving tray of dirty dishes sat on the dresser across the room and a half full glass of water on the nightstand. She looked at the alarm clock and noted that it was the middle of the afternoon.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept or how many days had passed since her rescue. She felt grimy and dirty and knew she hadn’t been bathed since then. She decided not to wait around for someone to help her and hoisted herself out of the bed.

With stiff legs, she made her way to the bathroom and blinked rapidly against the bright white light that penetrated her eyes. She smiled at the bouquet of black roses that were situated in the middle of the counter. Ivar had even left a short note expressing his love. He didn’t date stamp it so she didn’t know when he’d written it but she settled it back on the counter anyway, contentment thriving through her veins.

She switched the shower head on high and undressed. Someone, probably Ivar, had dressed her simply. She pulled the black comfort t-shirt over her head and slipped her panties down her legs. The dirt and grime from the concrete room she’d been held in still decorated her body in streaks of gray and black and brown. She looked at her face in the mirror and narrowed her eyes at the vibrant purple bruise along her jaw and the dried blood that had caked itself in her nostrils and along her upper lip.

She tried to comb the rat's nest that was her hair so she didn’t tangle it further in the shower but there was little hope for the strands. She pushed it back from her face and stepped into the shower when the steam fogged up the mirror beyond sight.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her mouth. The hot air filled her lungs and she felt herself relax. Her muscles began to unclench and she could feel her body disengaging from fight or flight mode.

Once the trembling in her hands had stopped, she picked up Ivar’s shampoo and dropped a generous dollop in her hand. She massaged the minty soap through her hair and shivered as her scalp began to tingle.

She combed her fingers through the knots as best she could, wincing at the extra sharp tugs that befell her scalp when she came to a particularly vicious snarl. She rinsed the lather and began again, working to clean all the grease and grime from her hair that she could manage.

She used her own rose scented body wash to scrub the dirt and grime from her body, scrubbing twice like she did for her hair, before turning to the leave in conditioner. She worked the lather into her hair before tilting her head back and closing her eyes, letting the hot water pelt her chest and stomach.

She startled at the sound of the bathroom slamming open. She barely had time to shut the water off before the shower door slid open and she was pulled into Ivar’s arms. He didn’t seem to mind that she was soaking wet and dampening his clothes. He pulled her out of the steam and lifted her, settling her on the counter top. She shivered against the temperature difference and he left her arms only long enough to wrap a towel around her shoulders.

He returned to her embrace and she wrapped her arms and legs around him fully, holding him in the embrace of her body. She felt him sign against her neck and knew it was a weight leaving his shoulders. He pulled back and pushed her hair behind her ears with the flat of his palm. She nuzzled into the contact.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked, his fingers combing through the wet strands of her hair. She nodded against his palm and tangled her fingers in the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

“How many people did you kill searching for me?” She asked. He smirked and stepped out of her embrace. He took a second towel from the rack on the wall and began meticulously drying her off. He started from the top, softly stroking the towel over her hair, squeezing the ends. He trailed it across her shoulders and down her arms, stroking over the crease of her elbow and over the backs of her hands. He even toweled off the spaces between her fingers.

“Innumerable. There is no number that will equal how precious your life is to me.” He answered. He brought the towel to her legs and traced her thighs and hips. She sucked in a soft breath when he gently toweled off the space between her legs, stroking the curls and dragging between the crease of her thigh. He smirked before stepping back and lifting first one leg and then the other, settling the balls of each foot on his chest and he dried her calves and feet.

When he was satisfied, he pulled open the mirror and reached for her lotion and moisturizer. She closed her eyes and he traced his fingers gently over the planes of her face, taking care with her bruises. He rubbed in her moisturizer before opening her lotion and smoothing his hands over her chest. She shuddered when he worked the lather into her breasts, the spaces of his fingers catching on her nipples in a way that she wasn’t a hundred percent certain was accidental.

She opened her eyes when he withdrew and almost shouted when he lifted her from the counter and returned to the bedroom. She let him settle her on the bed as he pulled a new shirt, his, and new underwear, hers, from the dresser.

He took her breath away when he dropped to a knee before her and, not once breaking eye contact, slid her panties up her legs. She shifted so he could settle them over her hips. He hovered over her, his mouth a hair's breadth away from hers but denied her a kiss. “If you’re trying to seduce me, it’s working.” She whispered. He grinned before picking up the new t-shirt and sliding it over her head without ceremony. She laughed as she pulled her head through the neck and slid her arms through the sleeves.

Ivar grew serious as soon as she reappeared and she twisted around on the bed to face him. She let him examine her face, which she knew was a mess of cuts and bruises. “I’m fine, Ivar.” She said.

He met her eyes and gave her a sad smile. She leaned forward into his space. “You know, this whole time I’ve been awake, you haven’t kissed me.” Ivar tilted his head to the side, his smile growing playful. “Kiss me, husband.” She said, and Ivar was unable to do anything but obey.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, his tongue seeking entrance almost immediately. She moaned and pressed forward, deepening their kiss. Ivar groaned and pulled back, licking his lip. She grinned at him, blood on her teeth. Ivar growled and leaned forward, his hand settling at her throat and squeezing.

She groaned as Ivar tilted her head to the side and trailed kisses down the side of her throat. They left fire in their wake and Aaline sighed, settling her hands on Ivar’s forearms as he maneuvered her head whichever way he wanted.

She trailed her hands up his arms to his shoulders, tightening her fingers in the fabric of his t-shirt. “There’s something that I have to tell you.” Ivar hummed as he licked a line up the left side of her throat. She moaned when he nipped at the hinge of her jaw.

“I’ve been meaning to say it for awhile butー” She’s cut off as a whimper works its way past her lips when Ivar sucked a mark into her throat at the curve of her neck and shoulder. Ivar hummed and switched sides, trailing nipping kisses up the other side of her neck. She knew she’d have marks to show for his affections.

“What did you want to say?” He whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. He traced the curve of it with his tongue before biting the lobe. She gasped and clutched tighter as his shoulders.

“I didn’t tell you before. I was afraid.” Ivar pulled back and met her eyes, his hands moving to cup her face. His thumbs stroked over her cheekbones. She blinked at him, her hands releasing his shirt and smoothing out the fabric.

“I love you.” She whispered, her voice trembling. Ivar hummed and stroked his thumb across her cheek. He leaned for and settled his forehead against hers.

“As I love you.” He responded. Aaline released a watery laugh before surging forward and kissing him. Ivar laughed and opened his mouth to her, letting her devour him. She sat up on her knees and pressed bodily against him. Ivar groaned and stroked his hands down her back, reveling in the feeling of his wife safe in his arms again.

Aaline giggled as Ivar’s hands smoothed up her back, taking her t-shirt with him on his way. She settled in his lap, relief flowing through her veins as her husband proceeded to make love to her.

@dreamlesswonder86 @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @feyrearcheron-nightcourt @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @kingniazx @revolution-starter @0hsappho @love-all-things-writing

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years

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When in Bali...

Summary: You were supposed to go to Bali with your partner for your one-year anniversary. Instead, you’re there alone, heartbroken. Will reuniting with a friend you know from a summer vacation in elementary school be able to fix it?

Beginning Notes: I was thinking about @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie’s fic challenge when I came up with this, but Bali sadly wasn’t on the prompt list. Still hoping that this'll do as good as Sandcastles.

Tagged: @bragisrunes @demon-of-the-ancient-world @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @alicedopey @batmandallyboy (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

Masterlist | requests are OPEN!

This summer holiday has been nothing short of awful. First, you catch your partner cheating on you two weeks before you’re supposed to fly, then you find out you can’t get your money back, and then, a wheel broke off of your suitcase. It’s a wonder you even made it to your resort alive.

Now, you’re at the pool, nursing a Mojito in hopes of soothing your heartbreak. There aren’t many people around. Most of them are probably going out. An elderly couple is suntanning across from the pool, there’s two kids throwing a ball in the shallow area and a guy at the bar that looks weirdly familiar. He’s practically devouring his chicken wings and you swear you know him.

The second you start looking away, the two of you make eye contact, and he gives you a bright smile, before returning to his wings.

It happens a few more times in the following days. Each time you see him, there’s this feeling you know him. But from where?

On your fifth day there, you eat dinner at the hotel’s buffet. You haven’t gone out once, either moping at the pool or your room. What’s the point without any company?

You grab this and that off the buffet, only avoiding the shrimps that look a little gray and the chocolate you’re saving for later. At your table, you’re completely alone, and you feel like you’re back in high school.

The stranger walks in, which confuses you, because you’ve seen him leave this hotel with a blond man a bunch of times while you were still lying at the pool. He hasn’t eaten here while you were there, not once.

Every table around you is deserted, and he still makes a beeline for yours. You send a silent curse to any god there might be but put on a friendly smile.

“Hey.” He says. “Saw you sitting all alone, and I thought I’d join you.”

“Hi.” You reply.

“I’m Hvitserk, by the way.” He tells you, holding out his hand. You pause. Hvitserk isn’t a common name, and you’ve only heard it once in your entire life.

You’re sitting on the beach near your parents, trying to save this sad sandcastle when you hear a shriek. Turning around, you see a blond girl your age throwing a crab into the sand after picking it off her leg, before running after a tall boy who’s laughing with sibling-appropriate malice.

“Hvitserk!” she screams. Behind her, a boy with dark hair cackles loudly, before the boy next to him elbows him.

The boy that is being chased runs up to you.

“You have to hide me!” he says, sitting behind you. “My sister is crazy!”

The blond girl that was chasing him isn’t impressed, crossing her arms to show that she can still see him, before she stalks off. You spent the rest of the afternoon ‘hiding’ Hvitserk and building more sandcastles. At some point, the darkhaired boy that was his younger brother crawled over, critizing your castle.

Third-grade you was crushed and immediately entered a sandcastle building contest with him, with Hvitserk as judge. For the rest of your stay in Spain, you and Hvitserk were inseparable.

Quickly, you shake it. “Y/N.” you reply. “Are you from Norway?”

“Yeah, I am actually.” Hvitserk says.

“That’s pretty far.” You comment.

“What about you?” Hvitserk asks.

“I’m studying in Australia, so Bali isn’t too far.”

“You’re really familiar.” Hvitserk blurts out suddenly. You laugh dryly.

“Does that line usually work for you?”

“No, I’m serious.” He insists. “Were you in Spain for summer vacation? Like in elementary school?”

“No fucking way.” You say. “You’re Hvitserk Lothbrok?”

He nods, and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god. I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Fate works in mysterious ways.” He says, making his voice a little too deep to be serious.

“How are Ubbe and Ivar? And Brynhildr and Aslaug?”

“They’re all good.” Hvitserk says. “But Brynhildr is actually called Sigurd. He’s trans.”

“Oh so he’s the blond guy I thought was your boyfriend.” You reply. Hvitserk grimaces.

“Ew, no! He’s my brother.” Then, he smirks. “Wait, have you been stalking me?”

“No.” you protest. “Well, maybe a little bit.”

“Are you saying I’m goodlooking?” Hvitserk asks, casually taking a fry from your plate.

“I’m saying that I’m heartbroken and bored. And yes, you are semi-attractive.”

Hvitserk makes an insulted noise. “All these years of friendship and you call me semi-attractive.”

You laugh, sliding your plate to him, which he happily accepts.

“Fine. Hvitserk, you are so hot and sexy that you’re making me forget why I ever dated my ex in the first place.”

“Good.” Hvitserk says. “What are you doing in Bali anyway?”

“Non-refundable one year anniversary trip.” You grimace.

“Ouch.” Hvitserk nods sympathetically.

“What about you?” you ask. It’s nice catching up with Hvitserk. He’s exactly like you remember. Well, maybe a bit more flirtatious.

“Yearly Aslaugssons trip. Except that Ubbe has a kid on the way and doesn’t want to miss his daughter’s birth.”

“I haven’t seen Ivar around.” You comment.

“He’s kind of turned into an edgelord so he refuses to leave his room to tan. Sigurd’s out with his fiancé today, and I wanted to cheer you up.”

“Did I look that sad?” you ask. After a pause, Hvitserk nods, before you both burst into laughter.

“You should come with us tomorrow. I’ve convinced Ivar to come along for drinks and tacos, and he’s taking his girlfriend. Sigurd’s taking his partner. Why don’t you come as my date, so I’m not alone?”

“I don’t know.” You say. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Ivar and Freydís will be very preoccupied, but Sigurd’s partner is a treasure. They’ll love you; I promise.”

You think about it for a second. It could be fun, and your ex cheated. It’s okay to go as a platonic date for Hvitserk three weeks post-breakup.

“Please?” Hvitserk asks, making puppy eyes at you.

“Fine. But only because you let me win against Ivar when my sandcastle was falling over.”

***

Why are you feeling so nervous? It’s only a night out with an old friend of sorts. You’ve put on the dress that was meant for your anniversary dinner, a long bodycon dress that makes you feel pretty even now, when you’re feeling out of sorts.

You kept your makeup simple because Hvitserk casually forgot to tell you the dresscode, but it doesn’t matter because you managed to tan enough that it made you look just a little bit refreshed.

Hvitserk knocks at your door right on time – which surprises you. You’d think that Ivar would be perfectly punctual, and Hvitserk ten minutes late at the very least, but he’s there, and he’s smiling brightly, just like he did when he was still a kid.

“Hi.” You say, grabbing your purse off the desk and closing the door behind you. “How’s your day?”

“Getting better and better.” Hvitserk jokes, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious, you’re looking good.” He insists.

“I better. Spent at least an hour overthinking this dress when I bought it.”

“Yeah. Would be a pity if the dress went to waste.” Hvitserk murmurs, before he lets you out of the room and leads you to the entrance of the resort. There, Ivar and Freydís are already waiting.

“I thought Hvitserk was talking shit when he said that the Y/N was also in Bali.” Ivar greets you. He’s standing upright now, supported by legbraces and crutches.

“Still salty about my sandcastle being better than yours?” you ask, and he rolls his eyes.

“Mine was clearly better. I’d say the judge was only a bit partial.”

“Freydís.” His girlfriend introduces herself.

“Y/N.” you answer. “Where’s Sigurd?”

“Him and Gale are already there. They said they wanted to enjoy the music a bit before Hvitserk begins ordering the entire menu.” Ivar replies. Hvitserk snorts, absentmindedly grabbing your hand as the four of you start walking. You blush furiously, but don’t let go. Not quite yet.

The restaurant is right at the beach, and a stranger comes bounding up as soon as you cross the threshold.

“You guys are just on time.” They announce. “Sigurd wanted to start ordering appetizers, even though that’s clearly Hvitserk’s assigned job.”

They go around hugging everybody and hug you too. “You must be Y/N.” they say.

“Yeah.” You reply.

“Sigurd told me you gave him your dessert once after Hvitserk ate his while he was in the restroom.”

“That was only because he braided her hair so nicely.” Ivar says sarcastically. So Sigurd and Ivar are still always fighting. You think.

Gale leads you to the table, where Sigurd is talking to a waiter. He hands Hvitserk the menu blindly, whose eyes immediately lights up. Ivar was right – Hvitserk orders six out of the eight appetizers on the menu.

“How are you going to eat all that?” you ask.

“My stomach knows no bounds.” Hvitserk replies. You all sit down, and Sigurd hands you a drink.

“It’s good to see you.” Sigurd greets. “I ordered a Mojito for you. Hvitserk mentioned you were obsessed.”

“Good to see you too.” You reply, before you turn to Hvitserk. “I am not THAT obsessed with Mojitos.”

“Yeah, you only had them each time you ordered from the poolbar.”

“Who’s the stalker now?” you fire back.

Appetizers come and go, as well as the main course, and Hvitserk keeps true to his promise, devouring everything that comes near his plate. At some point, Gale decide that they are full, and Hvitserk happily accepts their plate.

You catch up with Sigurd, since Ivar is making hearteyes at Freydís, who is talking to Gale and Hvitserk. He tells you all about the things you missed since Spain. From Ivar’s braces and his transition to Ubbe and Bjorn setting the BBQ on fire during a family reunion.

At the end of dinner, everyone except Hvitserk is stuffed, and getting ready to head back to the hotel.

“You and Y/N should stay, have dessert and catch up some more.” Freydís suggests, throwing Ivar one of those looks that only your longterm partners or siblings can understand. However, Ivar’s mouth not-so-subtly tugs into a smirk.

Before you can protest, all four of them are gone, Ivar handing Hvitserk some money for the check, who happily accepts while reading through his dessert options.

“Let’s share.” He suggests

“Share food? With you?” you say, only half-joking.

“We shared your fries.” He reminds.

“That wasn’t really decided by me.” You laugh. He hands you the menu, pointing out both options. In the end, you go for lava cake with vanilla ice cream, and Hvitserk scoots closer as the waiter brings a last round of drinks, courtesy of Ivar.

“I’m actually getting hungry for dessert.” You tell Hvitserk. What you don’t tell him is that all those drinks have made you slightly tipsy and Hvitserk is starting to look even better than before.

“And my stomach knows no bounds?” Hvitserk asks. You groan, leaning back against him.

“I think eating even more is a shit idea, but I really love lava cake.” You admit. Hvitserk puts an arm around you, and you don’t mind at all.

“Did you know I had a crush on you in Spain?” Hvitserk suddenly blurts out. You sit back up, staring at him.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s true!” he insists. “Honestly, I can understand younger me perfectly.”

You laugh, but you feel yourself growing nervous – in a good way. For a moment, you think back to your ex, but honestly, the feelings for them haven’t been very strong for a few months already.

“So you’re saying you have a crush on me now?” you ask. Before Hvitserk can answer, the waiter sets down the dessert. You both dig in, and holy fuck – it’s good.

“I take it back, eating this is a great idea.” You say between bites.

“I might have a crush on you now.” Hvitserk says after swallowing his first bite. Surprised, you cough, some of the cake getting stuck in your throat. Hvitserk smacks your back, until you can breathe again.

“Couldn’t that wait until I had swallowed?” you ask, your eyes teary.

“Oh yeah. Sorry about that. Want me to kiss it better?”

You had forgotten how forward Hvitserk was.

“Uhh...” you mumble. “Sure?”

He leans forward, softly kissing you. You almost protest when he pulls back. You finish the dessert in comfortable silence, and on the way home, Hvitserk holds your hand again.

Dutifully, he drops you off at your hotel room, but before he can go, you pull him down to kiss him. After a few seconds, Hvitserk deepens the kiss, and holy fuck, he was an amazing kisser. Out of breath, you break apart.

“I’ll see you at the pool tomorrow?” you ask.

“Yeah.” He says. “I guess I should go to Bali more often, if it turns out like this.”

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artemiseamoon · 1 year

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Payback

Roman Godfrey & Modern! Ivar & Jade (Ofc)

✨A one shot series | hiatus✨

More Roman & Ivar combo

Read in full on A03, previews only on tumblr | at this time my A03 is users only (a03- Artemiseamoon)

Moodboards

Playlist 🎶 (multi genre, includes classical, rock, r&b and will grow as I continue the story. Won’t suit all tastes cause it catered to me)

✋🏾Warnings: A kinda dark fic with dark themes! I keep things light here but I do write darker fics too. General themes listed below. Don’t like don’t read. Not condoning any of them or praising em.

Themes: adult 18+, kidnapping, held hostage, sexual situations, being dragged, vampirism (blood, biting, killing), criminal activity and deaths. Further warnings added as I go.

1. The Basement | tumblr preview

2. Tba

#dark fic #Roman Godfrey #ivar lothbrok #modern Ivar #read warnings #Roman Godfrey x oc #ivar x oc

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mrsalwayswrite · 2 years

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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 17

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

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

min skatt– my treasure

Words: 9400

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

Series Masterlist

Ivar fucked up.

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

He had fucked up.

Severely.

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

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

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

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

His Kari.

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

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

And it was his own fucking fault.

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

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

Ivar nodded silently. Promising himself he would.

But the next day he broke that promise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I need time, Ivar."

Another lashing of the whip.

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

Gods, he hoped she could forgive him.

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

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

Afterwards, the entire drive was silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For he knew blood. He knew pain.

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

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

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

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

But he kept silent.

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

That his offering would be enough.

*****

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

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

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

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

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

He just needed his brother's help.

*****

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

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

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

"So why are we here, Ivar?"

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

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

"I told you–"

"And I'm calling bullshit, Ivar."

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

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

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

"Okay…I'll go order a bottle of–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just this once." Ivar agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuckkkkkkkk……

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

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

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

"Shut up!"

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

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

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

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

The fingers stilled.

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

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

"Get out."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Morning, brother."

"Ugh. Fuck you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? Why does that fucking matter?"

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

"The fuck–'"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you–"

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

"Fuck off. You don't know–"

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

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

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

Why did he always fuck everything up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The asshole.

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

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

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

"Stop fucking hitting me." Ivar growled.

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

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

"You still want her, yes?"

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

"Yes or no, Ivar."

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

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

"But she said…"

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

"You wouldn't."

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

And he was right.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're whipped, Floki."

"Yeah, so are you."

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

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

"Stop calling me that."

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

"Fuck off."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hvitserk chuckled while Ivar rolled his eyes.

"You good?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fu–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To prove how much she meant to him.

*****

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

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

"Did you decide yet?"

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

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

"Hopefully."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That asshole never sleeps either." Ivar muttered.

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

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

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

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

"Uh huh. I highly doubt that."

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

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

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

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

"Ivar, language!" Helga chastised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Ivar had lethal plans.

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

Floki had laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

"How's that vacation of yours?"

"Fuck off."

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

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

"Two days."

"Where?"

"Istanbul."

"Good."

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

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

"Not a fucking word, Ivar."

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

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

Tag List:

Vikings (all)

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

To Call Forth Love

@heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @ecarroll1978 @breezykpop @avoidanceishowiroll @maggyme13 @that-virgo-witch @cdauni @istorkyou @smears-and-spotss @resichen2406 @jessi-lynn-h @heathengurrrl71 @harleyquinn3289 @ivarlover @complicatedbutrare

Vikings-Ivar

@breezykpop @frankie-undead-dame

102 notes · View notes

jadelynlace · 2 months

Text

"All the Time"⎮ Ink Drinker Deleted Scene⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]

read more of Ink Drinker here.

Author's Note: Yeah, it's the super smutty piece I warned you all about. In hindsight, maybe it's not all that raunchy? I don't know. You can tell me. Also, fun fact! While I wrote this, my captain sat across the table from me, completely oblivious (he figured I was writing my care reports, and I was. Kinda). I literally have the best poker face.

Word Count: Just under 2,000 words (of porn)

Conversation falls around you. In the cool air of the evening you’ve grown comfortable with your legs thrown over Ivar’s thighs, sitting at an angle as his hand hooks around your shoulder. Drowning out the words around you as you scroll on your phone to decompress your social battery, bombarded with videos from Hvitserk as he thinks that’s a successful way to use his energy during his over time shift. And, quite frankly, he’s right.

“But where are people finding the time?” A voice says. “I work a full time job, I go to the gym, and I’m trying to get a full 8 hours of sleep and cook for myself—where do people find the time to date? To even hook up?” The voice continues.

“Ivar and I fuck all the time,” You say, and you don’t even really realize that you said it out loud until Ivar’s hand is over your mouth.

“That’s really all the input you have for the conversation?” Another voice says. You’re quick to lick Ivar’s palm as he lets out an estranged noise, wiping your salvia on your back.

“I’d have more of an input if we were actually having a conversation,” You mutter back.

“Why on earth would you lick my fucking palm?” Ivar says, shooting you a look. You lean into his ear closely before speaking:

“You don’t seem to be too upset when I lick the other things you put near my mouth,”

There’s a low rumble from Ivar’s chest as he registers what you’re saying and you smile.

“What can we use as an excuse to leave?” He whispers to you.

“The fact that I work in the morning?” You try and Ivar just nods at that.

You climb off of him, standing with a stretch and you feel eyes on you.

“Leaving already?” Someone whines.

“Well, as riveting as this conversation is regarding your ability to not adapt to being adult, I do have to work in the morning. So I am going to get those 8 hours of sleep you keep talking about,” You say.

“Well then, why are you leaving, Ivar?”

“Uh, because I don’t want to wake her up in the middle of the night when I come home from the bar?” Ivar answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing.

“You can spend the night with me!” Aiden teases.

“You have one bed,” Ivar tells him.

“Exactly,” Aiden smirks.

“Do you…do you want to spend the night with him?” You tease.

“No, no I do not,”

“Alright, why don’t you kiss him goodbye then,” You add, patting Ivar’s chest and Ivar shakes his head.

Aiden offers him a kiss through the air, and a wave, but Ivar only flips him off, rounding the corner to leave. Not a second passes before Ivar turns back around, looking at Aiden and returning that kiss through the air.

You’re all but tossed onto the bed, a quick display in both Ivar’s strength and his dominance has you landing suddenly against the pillows before her’s climbing over you. Wasting no time as he comes to cover your body with his, mouth seeking yours.

“Oh, so you really weren’t that mad at my comment,” You try, seeing if it’ll fuel his fight. Ivar doesn’t say anything as his mouth travels past the shell of your ear, meeting he nape of your neck and his teeth nip at your flesh. “Because revealing to them that we have “sex all the time” was not necessarily a lie,”

“Stop,” Ivar says suddenly, his blue eyes coming to catch yours. They flash with a quick display of anger, momentarily muting your brain and making you refocus on him. And how he’s in charge right now.

“Stopping,” You peep back.

“Good girl,” Ivar groans, mouth catching yours for a kiss that is all tongue. He would smile to himself at how well he knows you, but his lips are occupied.

The last articles of his clothing are flung across the room as Ivar moves again, pushing his knee to divide your legs as they instinctively part for him. You can feel his hardness against your cunt throbbing, as Ivar’s hands come on each side of your head, pressing his weight through them while you both catch your breath. Hungry eyes trace you, and the wisps of the ends of his hair tickle your chest as his head tips to watch the space where you two are about to be connected.

A low grumbles comes from Ivar’s chest as your hand reaches down, spreading your lips for him to see you. The same hand reaches up, grabbing Ivar’s chin as you pull his mouth towards yours again.

“Are you waiting for something?” You tease him.

Settling his legs over you, Ivar pulls away, shifting his weight as his hand grabs his length, The other rungs through his hair, pushing it from his view before tapping himself against you. Meeting your teasing with his own, the head of his cock finds your bundle of nerves, pressing ever so slightly as he hears you gasp. Your eyes flutter shut, bunching the sheets at your sides as his cock glides through your wetness.

Ivar suddenly stops, a slow string of spit coming from his lips as it lands against your mouth. His fingers collect it, pressing them towards your clit before he takes them down his shaft.

Pushing your hips into him, Ivar responds by slowing his motions, biting his bottom lip as his cock sinks into you, bottoming out until he’s flush against you. A deep moan climbs from his chest while he savors you fluttering around him.

You reach at him, pulling him over you as his arms plant on each side of your head, moving before digging his fingers into your hair while his hips start up. Quickly they take force, slamming into you as the bed rocks against the walls. You hardly have a moment to grasp the sensation of how he feels inside of you, before he gets faster, moaning in your ear.

“Ivar,” You squeak. “Slow—” You grit out. “Slower,” You say and he stops, nuzzling against your head as his hips come to a halt. “Give a woman a chance to breath before you take away my ability to walk,” You mumble to him as you shift your body and Ivar only snickers from somewhere over you.

Pulling back, Ivar lets go of your hair, smoothing it out slightly as he seeks out your lips again, humming into the kiss as your hands dance along his back. His hips roll lazily, your wetness collecting between you two and you offer him a sweet moan.

“There are much better ways to take me if you want to go that fast,” You whisper to him. Ivar feels you push at him before his climbs back to let you move. Watching you crawl onto your stomach he pulls at your hips himself, positioning himself behind you while you nuzzle against the bed. His cock presses into you again, his chest coming over your back as the warmth radiates from him. Jutting the two of you up the bed, Ivar’s hips move as he wraps an arm around your waist, his free hand finding yours.

Ivar’s thrusts are met with you pushing against him, chasing his cock in the brief moments it’s away from you while you hear the moans coming from his mouth. With your thighs shaking under him, you can’t help but moan his name, egging him on.

As he chases his release, Ivar’s mind empties as he moves, your walls quivering around him with his arm attempting to pull you closer, even with no additional space. Through each grunt, each sweet sound you sing to him, Ivar’s muscles tense, the ache in his balls nearing an end before he pulls out of you suddenly. Moving away before he flips you in one quick display of his strength.

Ivar moves again with his orgasm taking over his body. You feel the string of seed against your skin, watching him before you. Abs quivers as he breathes quickly, the final drops dribble from his flushed head, throbbing as it slides down his shaft. Only then is it collected as his fist moves to grab himself, and tap again against your cunt, swirling his essence against your mound.

After a whisper of a moment, his fingers slide through your slit and press into you, curling them right against your sweet spot. Ivar leans over, lips hungrily against yours. As he feels your nails in his back, your teeth sink into his bottom lip while he pumps his fingers.

Your mouth opens to moan and Ivar pushes his forehead against yours.

“Give it to me, Goddess,” Ivar whispers, “Come for me,”

You can only whine in response, breathing deeply as Ivars fingers move, his eyes on yours and you can’t look away. His thumb comes against your clit, pressing in circles and you hum as the pleasure takes over your body. Your lashes flutter, a heat low in your belly as the coil tightens, as Ivar growls for you to open your eyes again.

“Look at me when you come,” Ivar tells you. Your eyes open as a blush covers your cheeks, the band finally snapping as you moan. Sinking your nails into his back before they move, grabbing his hair in an attempt to ground yourself as your orgasm rushes through your body. You grab his face again, pulling it back towards you to regain some control, as your mouth seeks his.

Ivar slows his fingers as his breathing matches yours, lips lazily tackling one another as a satisfied groan comes from him. Moving, Ivar settles back over you, placing his weight carefully to cover you as you latch around him. Your hands take their turns from tracing his spine, to scratching his head as the man deflates above you, nuzzling into your cheek and you can’t help but smile.

Moving again and putting his weight on his elbows, Ivar looks down at you, bumping your nose with his.

“Hi,” He says quietly.

“Hi, handsome,” You say back, a smile on your face.

“You don’t…you don’t even work in the morning,” Ivar finally realizes.

“I know,” You giggle and Ivar huffs, collapsing back over you.

Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @angelofthenightposts @unbetaedimagines @readsalot73 @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @prettyinpayne @quantumlocked310 @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @fatedwithmbc @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17b@trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @kataphine @prepare4trouble @abbiii72 @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @93xdiagonxalley @ivarisms @nordicshieldmadien @ironynoticony @ivarsgard @cosmicmerbabe @smears-and-spotsb@kaybee87 @t4medicroe @noway4u @southernbe @anakindoesntlikesand @mymindfuckery @noonespecial90 @hypocrtic-trash-baby @tessakate @ivarlover

*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 au #vikings #modern vikings #ivar au #modern vikings au #ivar #modern ivar #vikings fiction #ivar lothbrok #ivar x you #modern ivar x you #ivar x reader #modern ivar x reader #ivar smut #modern ivar smut

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lavender-romancer · 4 months

Text

Vikings Masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ivar Ragnarsson

Marrying

♡ Ivar has been in love with you for as long as he remembers but now…you’re marrying Ubbe

Winter

Names For Ivar's Lover

♡ What the names Ivar gives you mean.

♡ CW: suicide mentions, conflict

♡ You wanted to be his again, not owned by him but a part of him. But it had been so long since you’d felt close to Ivar that it felt out of reach as he descended into rage filled madness

Limitations and Anxieties

♡ Ivar loves you and you both want to have sex but, he’s convinced he can’t

Ivar stands you up

♡ Modern AU

♡ You thought you were giving a chance for a classmate to show they could be a better person than they had previously represented themselves as but Ivar disappointed you again

Ivar Annoying you at School

♡ Modern AU

♡ You were already havinga bad day and doubted that Ragnarsson would make it any better, he disagrees

Wedding Ceremony

♡ You and Ivar are finally getting married, Ragnar is officiating and you both couldn’t be happier

Bruised

♡ Ivar loves war more than you

Lost Him

♡ Ivar x OC

♡ Ivar and Ingrid have been married for a number of years now, their family grows and so does their love but what would she do without him?

Lofn

♡ You and Ivar have been together for a few years and something had always been missing, you suddenly felt as if that could be solved when you made a discovery on a walk together

We Fixed Each Other, and Now We're Broken Again

♡

I'm a Proud Pagan

♡ your life with Ivar and his family during Jul

one two

♡ You grew up in England, but your parents were vikings, you always kept the gods in your heart, when you get taken back to Kattegat by vikings, Ivar and Hvitserk both take an intrest in you

English by Birth, Viking at Heart

♡ retired

one two three four

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ubbe Ragnarsson

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Love You

♡ You’re married to Ubbe but Ivar keeps trying to make you his

Hurt

♡ Much to Ubbe's horror, you get hurt in battle

Hvitserk Ragnarsson

You're Cold. No I'm Not

♡ Hvitserk has been frustrating you for a while and now he wouldn’t let you come on a raid

We Could Be

♡ Modern AU

♡ You’d never considered yourself to have crushes but everything Hvitserk did in school and out of it made you feel something

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

English by Birth, Viking at Heart

♡ retired

♡ You grew up in England, but your parents were Vikings, and you always kept the gods in your heart, when you get taken back to Kattegat by Vikings, Ivar, and Hvitserk both take an interest in you

one two three four

Bjorn Ironside

Sandy Hair and Mud Face

♡ You’d known Bjorn since you were a child but a few years later when you travel to Kattegat some old nicknames come back to taunt you

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Daughter of a King Wife of a Prince

♡ retired

♡ As the daughter of King Ecbert, you were often ignored and put to the side because you weren’t the heir but when some powerful Norsemen show up all changes

one two three

Ragnar Lothbrok

Loss

♡ You and Ragnar have trouble with a pregnancy

I Love You

♡ Ragnar x Athelstan

♡ Ragnar's secret is revealed to Athelstan

Lies

♡ retired

♡ You always knew you were different, but you still thought you were Ragnar’s daughter

one two

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istorkyou · 7 months

Text

A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU) New Chapter

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Note - I think it’s been almost a year since I updated this fic. I’ve decided to post the rest of the fic, despite not being super happy with chapter 11. I wrote the rest of the chapters ages ago but got stuck on chapter 11 so I’ve decided to just Chuck it out here.

Sorry it’s taken me so long, hope those who enjoyed this story before will enjoy the end ❤️ thanks all. This chapter is un-beta’d so all mistakes are mine and I’m sure there will be lots!

Warnings - mentions of violence make against female and female against make, language, weapons, angst

Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?

Word Count - 3828 words

This is for @blackseapearl 400 follower trope challenge. I asked for Amnesia :)

Shout Outs - They know ❤️

This fic kicked (and is still kicking!) my ass, I’ve never had such a hard time with motivation as I have writing this long-ass bitch so I hope you enjoy it :)

It’s also LOOOOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG..... and I’m only the tiniest bit sorry about that!

Masterpost

Chapter 11

The early days of Ivar and Liet.

Lev insists on an apartment first, keeping some distance and to set up a place he can still see her in. She assumed Ivar would be annoyed but he says it’s a good first step, she doesn’t know for certain but she guesses that The Lothbroks don’t want a stranger in their midst, she will have to be vetted before being allowed into their inner sanctum.

She stays in the apartment for a few months, building a life, in her “new city”, a routine with Ivar visiting. Lev turns up more often than she wants, an invasive reminder that it's all lies and any potential peace found with Ivar is bullshit.

Lev never gets ugly with her again, but her memory is long and she never forgets the violence he exhibited, quashing all feelings she ever had for him.

She was supposed to lead a double life, reporting to her family, faking the relationship with Ivar, in reality, it’s a triple life now, faking to Lev, faking to Ivar despite her feelings of real love for him and reporting back despite her feelings. God, what an absolute mess she’s made. Etta has no choice but to carry on as normal with Lev when she sees him, fucking him as if he’s her guy when her whole being is consumed by her feelings for Ivar.

The ripping of her soul, the lies, the deceit, the acting, almost sends her into an early grave, until Ivar asks her to move onto the estate.

———————-

Word comes from Ivar’s Father. The Lothbrok family have accepted her. Ragnar has dug into her past thoroughly.

———————

Her Father knew this would happen and hired the right people to fabricate her former life, leaving as much of her true life as possible. Dead parents, teacher (at a different school, one where Olegs family had reach with, who he was able to pay off if asked about Julietta). The Lothbroks came back with nothing but a squeaky clean record of her. Nothing about her time spent with her father, nothing about her training or the other ‘missions’ she’d been sent on. Just a wholesome school teacher with friends and a tragic past.

—————

She can see a respite, a pause of her turmoil if she is away from Lev, away from the pressure he is putting on her, the pressure her father is putting on her through Lev. She can breathe easily once she gets there. For a minute.

She knows any peace is temporary.

The day before she is due to move, Lev catches her outside her apartment as she is running errands.

She feels him behind her, an insistent grip on her arm.

“Keep walking, Love. Who knows if we are being followed. Walk to the market.”

Julietta has no choice but to do as he says.

In the market he catches her arm harshly and turns her toward a stand.

“Try on the sunglasses,” he instructs her harshly, so she does. She catches his eye in a mirror, he is standing close to her. “Tomorrow we will be separated, God knows for how long. You know what needs to be done, Etta?”

She nods and picks another pair of glasses up, slipping them on her face.

“I’ve watched you with him, in this very market,” Lev’s voice is saccharine sweet, she’s heard it before and the blood runs cold through her veins. The intrusion into the relationship she thought she’d developed in private was being watched. Of course it was. Stupid girl.

“I’ve seen him kiss you, I’ve seen the way you look at him, Etta.” Etta watches as his pupils constrict in the mirror as his grip tightens on her flesh, sure to leave marks she will have to explain away.

Etta starts to shake her head and pulls away carefully, smiling playfully as she starts to protest but his words stop her.

“My eyes don’t lie. I’ve seen you. Do you not remember my words? If you fall for him I will kill you both. You are mine,” his finger back on her arm, holding so hard she has to bite her lip to stop from yelping. “Mine,” he growls in her ear. “I hope for both your sakes you are a better actress than I give you credit for, Etta.”

Lev leans into her, his nose in her hair and he inhales deeply, eyes never leaving her face for a second. “I would hate to murder you, my love.”

Through the ice in her veins she knows what she must do. A calmness settles over her, knowing her only way out of this encounter is to placate the man she once loved.

She removes the sunglasses and her eyes catch his in the mirror. She leans back into Lev, her upper back pressing against his chest and she pushes her ass into his crotch. Her voice is thick with sweetness when she addresses him. “Baby, I’m the best actress you’ve ever met. You think I have feelings for him? I’m repulsed by him. Every time he touches me it makes me want to vomit. I would kill him and his whole fucking family in a heartbeat to be back with you, my love.”

She sees Lev’s eyes change from hatred to relief and she knows he is putty in her hands again.

“I’m doing this for the family. For you. Just as you told me to. It’s all for you, a means to an end, my love. I’m leaving tomorrow, who knows when I will next get to see you. There's an alley up to the left. Meet me there in two minutes. I need you one more time before I go.” She turns in her heels and heads for the alley.

As she turns left she claps her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle to cry and tears in the minutes she has before he joins her. She takes in some steadying breathes and prepares herself to allow Lev to touch her, fuck her, to betray Ivar with the man that sold her out like she was nothing. A mere commodity.

As she watches Lev enter the alley her skin starts to crawl, but she pushes the feeling away.

She’s let her guard slip with Ivar, she needs to pull herself back again, with more success this time. She curses inwardly at not realising she is being watched the whole time, of course she is, she’s her family's most valuable asset.

She can’t be the reason Ivar dies. She will be the best actress ever. To save herself. To save Ivar.

—————

Julietta is sure that Ivar feels the change in her, in the way she is with him over the next few weeks. Sometimes she can see her detachment break his heart and she wants nothing more than to open herself up again, allow him into her heart fully, but the memory of Lev’s words stops her.

Sometimes she feels herself allowing the feelings to creep back in. It’s easy when it’s just the two of them, living together, a normal life. Somedays, when she’s watching him move around their home, on the phone, smiling at her, she forgets what this all is. Fake. An assignment. Not for long, but long enough for it to crush her heart when she remembers.

Some days she is so angry. Furious at herself for letting her life come to this. Rage filled at her father for making her do this. Devastated at the circumstances that have led her life to this point. Angry that she is in love with a man completely out of her reach, despite being married to him. It’s on these days can hear herself say the most disgusting things, things about his wheelchair, his disability that make her so ashamed of herself she knows that when her time comes they will be the reason she will be dragged straight to the depths of Hell.

He shows her nothing but endless patience. She isn’t sure if that is because he is so in love with her or because she drops enough breadcrumbs of love and affection to keep him hopeful that she will return to the woman he met in Sardinia. Hope. It can hold people prisoner, and that’s what she feels she is doing to him. Keeping him shackled to a memory of the woman she wishes she could be with him, her old self.

Julietta can’t even bare to look at him when they have sex, can’t bare the way his eyes feel on her, like they are going to pull a confession out of her at any moment so she manipulates him again into being intimate in a way she can stomach, a way she can live with herself.

She manages to find an outlet in the form of a diary, written in code. She pours every thought, every feeling, every second of happiness into it so she doesn’t allow it to spill out into their actual lives. So she doesn’t compromise them. If she writes it down the weight of her feelings and the fear that accompany them is lifted slightly.

She’s allowed to the main house after the checks come back clean, before that she had barely any access to it at all which meant she didn’t have much to pass on to Lev when she saw him at the flat. Information is freely available to her now, access to staff, their gossiping, access to Ragnar’s study, although she is careful here until she is sure there are no cameras inside this space. There aren’t, probably so he doesn’t incriminate himself should the time ever come. It does mean she can access paperwork left around, listen in on conversations he has in there. She has yet to plant the listening devices given to her and try to access Ragnar's computer, making up excuses to Lev when pushed on the subject, only handing over as little as she can get away with.

She despises herself every time she does it, hearing the consequences of her actions spoken about by the Lothbroks, people killed, families ripped apart, collateral damage.

She tries to redress the balance of her disgusting deceit as often as she can. Julietta knows one of her strengths is the ability to read people as if they are telling her their secrets openly. Body language, the slightest flick of an eye, the quick exchange of notes between Ragnar's staff is stored in her head. Most of it is innocent, the occasional affair between staffers, a few people stealing from the kitchens, but any hint of something that could hurt any of the family she tells Ivar about, discreetly, so as not to give herself away, hints at things she’s noticed. Ivar is astute enough to read into it the droplets of information she gives him and neutralises the threat.

He can’t see I’m his biggest threat Julietta thinks sadly.

Over time Julietta becomes more involved with all the family members and she starts to enjoy their company, they treat her like one of their own, not knowing she is a snake in the nest. It’s hard enough betraying Ivar without the extra guilt so she stays detached, warm enough that she isn’t alienated but she keeps them at arm's length. For her own sanity.

After months of being on the estate with her love her brains tricks her into thinking she has some solace from her real life. She stops passing along as much information as she can get away with, only given intel she knows will have minimal impact on her husband and his family. She makes excuses to not have to meet up with Lev, passing along the information via a notebook hidden in her flat, deliberately ignoring Lev's outrage at her evasion, which is clear from the messages left in the hiding spot in her apartment.

She continues this way until a clear message is received. One of the Lothbrok security guards is found outside the estate with the letter E carved into his forehead; she knows she has to face her life outside the walls. For Lev to get so close to the estate, to risk the whole assignment to get her attention she knows she has no choice but to meet up with him.

The thought fills her with a paralysing fear, she can’t do this anymore. The double life has to stop and Julietta knows which of her two lives she wants.

Julietta goes to her apartment, calls Lev from the phone stashed in the space in the walls and arranges to meet him at the gym. She changes into her workout clothes and heads there with a racing heart. She went to the toilets at the back of the gym, where Lev has made sure that no security cameras reach.

He’s waiting for her and pins her to the wall before they mutter a world to each other. He pulls her shorts down roughly and his fingers are inside her before she knows what’s happening.

“Lev, no, we need to talk. Stop,” she tells him in Russian, grabbing his wrist to push him out of her, pulling up her shorts.

“Etta, what’s wrong? I’ve missed you. Do they know? Is that why I haven’t heard from you?” His mouth is all over her, her neck, her chest, making her skin crawl.

When he starts to kiss her mouth she twists her head away, and her head falls against the wall. It’s now or never.

“I'm not doing this anymore. I’m done. I'm going to be a proper wife to him. I love him, Lev. We are finished here.”

Lev's face pulls into a scowl before he bursts out laughing. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t love him. You are mine!” He grabs her face, bruising it with his fingers. “You can’t just stop, you will never be done!” His face is searching hers, trying to find a hint of a joke.

She smacks his hand away “Don't ever touch me again, Lev. I am done with all of you. I never wanted any of this. My father won’t kill me for falling in love. Ivar, he’s not like any of you, not with me, he's gentle and he loves me.” Etta’s chin is raised in defiance.

“I fucking love you!” Lev replies with desperation in his tone. “I’ve loved you for years. You can’t be in love with him, he’s the fucking enemy, Etta.”

“Is he?” she shouts at him. “I’m starting to think we are. Father is only doing this for territory, not for revenge or anything noble!”

“Etta, my love. You are smarter than this…” Lev’s tone is one she recognises. A calm, friendly tone which is uses at his most dangerous. “Think about this my love. Come to your senses and I won’t tell anyone what you’ve said today. I love you.”

“Oh Lev, you’ve always been about your career, Fucking the bosses daughter was a strategic move for you. I know you would never choose me over the family.”

“You think Ivar would?” Lev screams and punches the wall next to Etta’s head. “You stupid fucking bitch. You are fucking dead. What did I tell you before? Do you remember? If you fell in love with him I would kill you both.” His hand is back on her jaw, pressing her skull against the hard wall behind her. “Etta. Tell me he hasn’t tasted you.” Levs face screws into pure hatred.

“I remember. I don’t care. I only care about him.” Her breaths are shallow with fear now. She’s weighed up all her options in the small space they are in. She knows all of Lev's moves and if she’s quick enough she can get the better of him. Hopefully.

“My rule, Etta,” Lev says through gritted teeth. “Did you let him taste you?” His eyes flit to her mouth.“You treacherous fucking whore!” He grabs her around the throat and she reaches into the underside of her sports bra pulling out her mini switchblade, flicking it open expertly and pushes it into his groin.

“Femoral artery, Lev. You taught me that. Let go of me or I’ll do it. You’ll bleed out in a minute or so. I’m a good actress, remember? I’ll say you attacked me and I will be believed. Never dare to call me a whore again.” She pushes the tip of her knife into his skin.

He glances down and removes his hands from her throat. “Dead woman. You are fucking dead, Etta” He points in her face and slams the restroom door open so hard it closes again she locks it quickly, clapping her hand over her mouth, hyperventilating in fear. She spends a few minutes calming down and listening for any sign of him. Silence remains and she is sure she is safe enough to leave the gym.

When she steps outside she hears screams from her right and as she spins towards the noise she sees Lev driving straight at her before everything goes black.

——————————————-

Present day

Consciousness tugs at her as does Ivar’s voice, which is getting louder with every syllable. Julietta wakes on the floor of their closet, Ivar cradling her head. “Liet? Baby, thank god! Are you okay?”

Was it all a dream? A nightmare? She knows it isn’t.

Her whole life is back.

Julietta remembers everything and she starts to sob.

“Julietta, what is it? More memories?”

Gods knows she can’t let on that she remembers everything. Even in her vulnerable state she knows for certain she needs time to sort through everything. As much as she wants to pour the truth out to him she values breathing. She hasn’t taken all the risks she has for this man to have him kill her in their beautiful home.

She shifts so she is sitting up, pushing away the nausea and reaches for the pendant laying between them. “The necklace, I remember the first time I put it on you. Ivar, I need to lie down. My head,” she whines, clutching her temples. “My head is splitting.”

She manages to walk to the bed on her wobbly legs, with his help and climbs under the covers and curls up into a ball. The bed dips and she feels him behind her, pressing himself close to her, running his hand up over her arm.

“Do you need anything, love? I will call a doctor.”

“No don’t, I’m ok. I think it’s just going to feel like this when I get memories, they said that after the market. Can you get me some water?”

Ivar nods against her skin. “I will love, I’m going to set an appointment tomorrow to go back to the hospital for tests. Just to be sure.”

As she hears him start to leave she turns to him quickly, knowing she needs to address something. “Ivar? I really don’t have any memory of that man from the Gala.”

Ivar’s jaw ticks and he nods stiffly at her then leaves.

Her own lip curls in disgust when she thinks of Lev. He will be dealt with sooner or later.

She stare up at the ceiling before getting the strength to walk to the bathroom to take a look at herself in the mirror. She looks different now she remembers who she is. Harder, she doesn’t like it.

“Hello, Etta.” She says to her reflection.

She runs her eyes over her reflection, the scar on her cheek, pulling down her top to look at the scars over her arm. Her gaze travels back to her short hair and she sneers slightly then remembers Ivar’s reaction to it and smiles.

“You are not Etta anymore,” she says softly, pointing at herself in the mirror. “You are Liet, his Liet. Bury the old you, do you hear me?” Her reflection nods and she starts to formulate a way forward.

A path to happiness.

————-

She doesn’t know how she manages to keep it together in the days and weeks after her life returns but she does. She compartmentalises her life as Etta until Ivar leaves every morning, as soon as the front door shuts she runs to the shower and tears pour from her. Grief for her parents, they way they were taken from her, the sheer scale of who she was before crushing her like a bug under a wheel.

Broken, bent, torn apart by the old her.

She prays to the Gods to make her Liet again, to remove everything she knows now but it’s just an act of futility. She has to find a way to live with the knowledge that she betrayed her Ivar, to continue to function as his wife with the terror that he and his family will find out about her.

The thought of fleeing crosses her mind, for him as much as for her. Gods know what Ragnar would do to Ivar if he finds out. If she leaves him, just disappears, she could protect him from that, but she knows she’s too selfish, and where would she go? Back to Lev?

Back to the man who did this to her?

“Liet, you have to talk to me. I feel you pulling away from me. I know something has changed. You are not… you are the same… you are turning into the you from before the accident and I need you to be happy again. Baby, please talk to me.”

Julietta can’t meet his eyes, but she forces herself to as she lies to his beautiful face. “I keep seeing flashes, I don’t like what I see, Ivar. Snippets of the way I was, and hate it. I was a totally different person, I didn’t know how to let myself be loved but I don't know why.” She knows why, but she needs to give him something. She used to be able to deceive at the blink of an eye, she’s lost that ability and part of her is grateful, but a bigger part of her wishes she could bullshit with ease to his face.

“Gods,” she thinks, “I should just fucking end it all now and spare him the pain of knowing who I really was.”

“Liet. I chose you then, and I will choose you in every lifetime I live. Always, baby. I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, I’ve loved you through the bad, the terrifying and the amazing. You don’t remember it all but I do, and it’s you. It’s always you. Always.

—————————

She exists. Weeks are passing slowly and she is slowly learning how to be Liet, pushing Etta away. It’s easing, the guilt. The fear of being found out is something she just pushes away with a stern talking to in the mirror. She’s determined to be who she wants to be, not who she was.

Chapter 12

#modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern vikings #alex hogh andersen #ubbe #modern!ubbe #modern!hvitserk #ivar x oc #vikings fanfic #vikings fic #vikings modern au #vikings ivar #hvitserk ragnarsson #ragnar lothbrok

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 2 years

Text

A Taste of Heaven Part 1

Series Masterlist

Prologue

Contains: Fluff, cooking, sort of slow burn.

2,178 Words

Comment if you want to be tagged

"Good luck."

Hvitserk was moving in the next day. Someone from work had provided products to wash his clothes and bedding and a spray to clean his items so the mould didn't spread and he was using the restaurant's lawyer in hopes of being compensated for the lost rent due to the black mould.

In the rush to get all this possession out of the house, you didn't talk to him much. You were hunched over the kitchen sink, stuffing in breakfast before you had to run to work. Hvitserk came screaming down the stairs, "sorry I can't stay for breakfast, we have a huge shipment of spice coming in and I need to be there." You tossed him a banana, "see you tonight. I'm looking forward to whatever you're going to cook."

You and Hvitserk had come up with a cooking schedule, you did a fifty-fifty slipt and did meal prep together on the weekend with fresh food from the farmers market.

It was strange cooking with him, you would have thought he would run his kitchen like one of those mean TV chefs but he was always smiling and laughing. You soon began to realise why his staff loved him so much and why his restaurant was so successful, everyone loved working with him and he made people genuinely happy.

"I hope you like stink." Hvitserk smiled, "are you kidding me, stinky tofu is the bomb."

"Mary, can you please bring me those fish?" Mary was a kind older woman, having spent thirty years in an unfulfilling marriage, she left her husband to pursue her cooking career. She came to one of the ten-dollar classes you taught once a month and signed up for a history degree the next day.

"Are we making Garum?" You nodded excitedly, "fuck yeah we are, Roman fish sauce that was loved by plebeians and the upper class. What's not to love?"

You added all the ingredients to an earthen jar, sealing it with a date well into the future, "I wish we didn't have to wait so long for food to do done. Why is there so much waiting?" You smiled, "because people back then had nothing better do to than what things rot."

After that, it was onto recipe research. You pulled a thick paper-bound book out of its case, cotton gloves over your hands and placed the book on a velvet rest. Opening it to the page indicated in your notes, you looked over the recipe.

One fraction of sugar

One fraction of flour

One fraction of butter

One-quarter fraction of milk

It was a pound cake recipe, but what was interesting was the way the recipe was written which made no sense. After looking over the publishing information and comparing the recipe to others by the same author and publishing house.

The conclusion, it was all a scam. The idea was to give people to right amounts but to make sure they fail when making it so they buy fancy equipment. You added it to the list of exhibits that would be shown next month.

"Scam foods through the ages."

At lunchtime, Hvitserk turned up, arms full of food, "hello, what brings you here today?" He smiled, boyish and warm, "well I know I'm never going to get you to come to the restaurant so I brought it to you, and your friends." He looked around and placed the food on the huge steal table in the middle of the department, the amazing smell bringing people over like a spell.

"This is very sweet of you Hvitty, I'll have a receipt and payment for you by the time you leave." He waved his hands, almost offended, "no way in Hel, this is my treat." Mary looked at both of you strangely, smiling to herself.

"Well then, are you going to tell me what I'm about to eat before I put it in my mouth?" He walked over to the table like a boy who just gave a flower to the girl he has a crush on.

"This is salted chicken, it's Ivar's favourite. This is honey bread which is Bjorn's favourite, this is Panzanella salad its Sigurd's favourite, and Ubbe's, which is crispy skin pork." It all looked and smelled amazing but there was one container left, "what's this one?"

He smiled again, it encompassed his face, "your favourite cake." He shrugged when you smiled at him, "we needed dessert."

*******************************************

The food was amazing, it was filling and comforting without being too much. Hvitserk watched everyone eat, the smile on his face growing as the silence of satisfaction did. "I thought you had shipping issues to deal with, how did you get away from work? Not that I'm complaining."

"I'm the owner and head chef, I only hire people who can look after the place if I need to leave at a moments notice." He didn't say it but you knew he was talking about Ivar. As much as he was independent and could look after himself, sometimes he was in so much pain he couldn't move enough to look after himself.

"Lucky you, I run this department and if I left for half a day, the government would cut out funding." Hvitserk shook his head, "I was thinking that maybe I could help with that. Ubbe was telling me you needed more funding to restore some cookbooks and I'd like to put on a fundraiser at the restaurant.

You were so taken aback, you hadn't spent much time with the man and he was already offering to help. Your smile must have been an answer because he was already pulling out a notebook from his pocket.

"You really don't have to do that. We haven't known each other that long, I don't want to impose and please don't feel obligated because I let you stay over." Hvitserk shook his head, "I think you forget what a great friend you've been to my brother. I want to do this, if you say no I'm just going to go over your head."

You rolled your eyes, "fine but only if you let me give you a private tour after lunch." The smile on his face was your answer.

**************

"This is our deadly food exhibit, not only does it have the led plates that caused people to believe that tomatoes were toxic but also the jars lined with lead that ancient societies used to sweeten wine." Hvitserk looked fascinated, "we focus here one food before modernity so unless it's in a scroll, you won't see much about delicacies like Fugu."

He pointed to a panel of photos and dishes in a display case, "what's that?" He saw the excitement on your face, "this is our poison supper club exhibit. They ate toxins that were common in food at the time and recorded their results, these people created the modern FDA."

Hvitserk watched you like you were the most interesting thing on the planet. "This is so cool, is there any way for you to set up some kind of food history thing in the restaurant? I'm sure there would be guests who would love an immersive experience. We could even invite school kids to join."

You were so happy you almost clapped, "I would love to do that, maybe we could do something involving the history of New York?" Hvitserk's hands grabbed your forearms, "you are a genius woman."

**************************************************

It had been a week since Hvitserk had started staying with you. You no longer found it hard to talk to him, in fact, the conversation flowed so naturally that it felt like he had been living with you for years.

The last few days, you had both been busy setting up the menus for the fundraiser and the new experiences at the restaurant, you were having trouble deciding between two dishes for both menus, one was Hvitserk's and one was yours.

Which led you here, with his brothers sitting at your dining room table waiting to bring out both dishes for them to judge. You had cooked a soup on the Waldorf Astoria menu in 1935 and he had cooked the most popular street food from 1922. The competition was friendly and you helped each other with the prep and cooking.

As you tossed the onions in the pan, Hvitserk was looking at your face. He saw the furrow in your brow and the way you leaned in the smell the food every few minutes. For the briefest moment, his chest felt warm and his finger inched to touch you. It passed when you moved to the other side of the kitchen and he did his best to force it out of his brain.

"You ready?" He nodded and helped you with the trays. You walked into the dining room and set the food down, each plate having a little printed card to explain what it was.

"The dish you all decide on will be the one that's put on the menu so make sure it's the best." They looked over the food like hungry animals and you and Hvitserk left them to judge.

"They're going to choose my thing, you know." You shook your head, "no, mine's much more filling. Yours is a snack at best." He laughed a looped his arm around you, the contact making you feel a flutter in your belly.

"Ok then, if you're so sure you're going to win, what do you want for it?" You really thought it over, wondering if you should tell him what you really want, "I want you to move in with me permanently, the house is huge and even if you cover half of everything, it will still be cheaper than rent in your shitty apartment. If you don't want to do that, you have to admit in front of everyone that I'm the better cook."

Hvitserk acted like it was a hard decision but you could see that he had already made up his mind, "fine, if you win I'll move in. But if I win, I move in and you come to the restaurant and let me cook you a three-course meal and you're not paying." You shook your head but stuck your hand out in agreement, the firmness of your shake surprising Hvitserk.

"Done."

Twenty minutes later, you were called back into the dining room, "so, what's the verdict?" Ubbe smiled, "a dead tie." You blinked in shock, "but the voting system wouldn't allow that." They laughed, "tough shit, we couldn't decide."

Hvitserk slapped you on the back, "well roomy, I guess I'll see you at the restaurant on Sunday."

*************************************************

Sunday came along and you made sure to wear your best casual but nice dress, Hvitserk had told you time and time again that it wasn't like most high-class restaurants and most of the time it hosted families and people on a nice night out.

When you walked in the restaurant was empty, save for a single candlelit table in the middle of the room. "What did you do?" He smirked, "you lost a bet, this is me collecting." He put a hand softly on your lower back and led you to the table, pulling the chair out for you to sit down, "what a gentleman."

He smiled, "my mum raised me well." To your surprise, he pulled up the chair opposite and sat down next to you, "are you going to leave the cooking to your sous chef?" He nodded, "she's a very capable woman, and she wants to practice for the new menu." He was happy you let it go, you had been very vocal about your dislike of the restaurant industry.

The food came out slowly, each course just the right size so you could enjoy the meal without feeling too full. Hvitserk watched you like a hawk, asking questions about what you thought of the food, "this could use some lemon juice, I think it would make it a lot less heavy." He tasted the dish off his own plate and nodded, getting one of the waiters to bring over a lemon wedge before Hvitserk squirted it on the food. He took and nite and moaned, "are you sure you want to be a scientist? You'd make an amazing chef."

You shook your head, "I hate people, someone would leave their food and I punch them." Hvitserk knew by the way you said it there was more to your feelings but he didn't want to push.

The night wore on and by the time you were done eating and talking, you were falling asleep at the table. Hvitserk put a hand on yours, smiling softly, "let's head home. Did you have a good night?" You nodded vigorously, "the best."

He pulled out your chair and linked his arm in yours, locking by before walking you to your car. The night was cool and the stars were twinkling in the sky.

"See you at home?" It took a while for the words to settle in.

Home

"Yeah, see you at home."

Part 2

Tag list:@kelly1buck2ats @sapphicmal @profoundtyrantharmony @malevolentmagnificence @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

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