#Modern ubbe

[istorkyou]

The Price Of Love (Modern!Ivar AU) Masterpost

A Modern!Ivar x F Reader

Note - This is the second fic I ever wrote and I’m not sure why I never posted it. I think I started writing The Arrangement not long after and kind of fell out of love with this one. Still, it’s been festering in my completed docs for well over a year so I figure I might as well post it 😬 It’s fluffy, and maybe a little cheesy (and by a little I mean a lot!) so if that’s your bag I hope you enjoy it! I will post a bunch of chapter all at once.

Warnings - See individual chapters. STRICTLY 18+

Synopsis - Money isn’t everything.

Moodboard - The beautiful moodboard is made the magical, amazing @serasvictoria. Thank you so much xxxx

This was beta read by my aussie wife who has left Tumblr. All love, all the time Lou x

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​​ @bragisrunes​​@noway4u @batmandallyboy​​ @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73​​​​ @meandmycherrytree @mymindfuckery @ivarsgard

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

[therealvikingstrash]

Jordan Patrick Smith in Lovecraft Country

[heavenlymorals]

A Grave in Autumn

Summary: After getting a call from his wife that his youngest son is at the hospital and may not make it, Ragnar Lothbrok takes a moment to visit the grave of his dead daughter. If his son were to die, it wouldn't be his first rodeo.

Modern AUs are always so fun to read and so hard to write. I did have fun with this though 🍂 (Gyda deserved better-). Also, small headcanon, but I picture modern Ivar to be a least somewhat into goth fashion/culture. Where does this headcanon come from? From the fact that he had no fucking color in his wardrobe in the series.

All around him, the leaves were an ombre of red, orange, and yellow. The wind blew viciously across the branches and leaves fluttered all around him like sparks of tepid fire. The leaves would wisp all around him, clinging to his coat, to his hair, to his beard. Ragnar got annoyed and would pinch the wonderfully dead foliage and drop it mindlessly on the ground. The leaf, whether red or orange or yellow, would cover up the drab brown leaves that crunched loudly under each heavy footprint. 

Autumn was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. All around him, he could see its beauty. Mother nature was a wonderful artist, no doubt. As far as Ragnar Lothbrok was concerned, no one could try to replicate her designs even if they wished to. Or maybe it was God’s design, who knew? He wore a golden cross with him almost all the time, a gift from his dearest friend Athelstan who either A. died a long time ago, or B. disappeared so he would never have to deal with the downward spiral that was Ragnar Lothbrok. If it was the latter, Ragnar couldn’t blame him. He was a toxic friend, a terrible person. Abandonment was far too kind of a fate for him. 

He kept walking along the trail. It was dusty and old. It seemed that the church to whom the cemetery belonged fell on hard times. The trail wasn’t crisp in its lines. All around it, one could see the breaching of sickly dead weeds strangling the grass. They were now a yellowish color, which reminded Ragnar heavily of vomit. He would know. He used to drink a lot. Did crack a lot. He threw up many times, the aroma becoming dimmer and dimmer on his nose each time it happened. After a while, it simply became an inconvenience, like how muscles would get sore after a good day at the gym. 

That was…terrifying, looking back at it, now, on the straight and narrow and sober. How he was so willing to overlook such significant things to escape his misery through artificial ecstasy. Getting high and getting drunk was his happiness. What made it worse was that he was still Ragnar Lothbrok, smart, lucky Ragnar Lothbrok, who could achieve whatever he wished. He was still running his business to a T. He was still making money. He was still skyrocketing into fame and fortune. Because of this, he couldn’t bring himself to care that this was wrong. 

Sober. He’s sober now. He’d still drink now and then, but he was still sober. He’d never touch any recreational drug ever again. 

As he kept walking across the trail, he came face to face with an iron fence. The fence itself was this fine between being of minimalist style and dabbling in the intricate gothic fashion that many cemeteries were fond of. As he opened the gate, it creaked loudly. Somewhat ought to oil the thing. 

He kept walking across that dingy trail until all around him were a plethora of tombstones. He absent-mindedly made note of the shapes. Square-top headstones. Ogee headstones. Arc tops and check tops. The iconic cross headstones, becoming dull at the edges from the constant wind and rain. Some of the headstones had angels carved onto them. One of them caught Ragnar’s eye. The angel was in the image of a young girl. Her hair was adorned with thick, Grecian curls as she looked down at the grave ledger with her hands clasped together and her eyes closed in a solemn expression. Her dress cascaded down her in intricate folds and from the back, two small wings spread out delicately. The whole headstone was made of marble and the ledger was a polished black ingrained with gold. 

It must have been expensive. 

Ragnar sighed and continued walking, passing more tombs, some simple, some not. Some were clean and others were forgotten, as evidenced by the green moss and the stained brown that defiled them. He kept walking up the trail till he made it up to a secluded corner in the cemetery. There weren't any other tombs in this area, thus it looked almost abandoned. Shading the entire thing was a proud Norway Maple. It looked like it was on fire, with how bright it was. If he touched a leaf, he was sure that he might’ve burned his finger. The ravens seem fine though, cawing proudly and dancing on the branches. Fitting that the ravens were here. Ever a companion of death. Ever since ‘God’ and ‘Jesus’ weren’t the ones who held dominion over the heavens, but Odin and his brood. 

The leaves fell again and covered what Ragnar was looking for. 

A flat tombstone.

Perhaps it would make sense to know why he was looking for this unassuming little slab of rock. Why he was trekking through this cemetery. Why he gazed so intently on the guardian angel that prayed over that anonymous deceased. 

A few days ago, he got a call from his wife, Aslaug. He used the term loosely. His marriage to Aslaug came from a place of practicality more than a place of love. He met the woman at a club and well, one thing led to another, and they slept together. Other than to relieve his hard-on with a beautiful woman, he also did it as an act of revenge. Before that fateful night, he learned that his  wife, now ex-wife, Lagertha, had been sleeping with his brother while they were together and that his oldest son, Bjorn, might’ve never been his child. Thankfully, one discreet DNA check later revealed that Bjorn WAS his son, but Ragnar was still pissed. He slept with Aslaug, made it rather easy for Lagertha to figure out, and then left. 

And being rather petty back then, he wasted no time courting Aslaug after he found out she was pregnant with his child and making her fall in love with him just as a final ‘fuck you’ to Lagertha. It rubbed salt in Lagertha’s wounds that Aslaug was pregnant as they tried many times after Bjorn’s birth to have another child but failed over and over again. 

Looking back at it now, since he is older and at least somewhat wiser, he could only cringe at how childish he was, how needlessly petty. 

In any case, he didn’t love Aslaug in the same way that he used to love Lagertha. He loved her as the mother of his children, but besides that? No. He didn’t love her. This then lead to many issues in their relationship, which could have contributed to his affairs with drugs and alcohol and her similar bouts with alcohol.

They managed to sort that whole business out, somehow. For now, they were simply married for convenience and neither of them was particularly keen on destroying that convenience. 

Anywho, yes, he got a call from Aslaug and a deep pit of blackness threatened to consume him whole. He still remembered how the phone buzzed in his pocket, how he narrowed his eyes as he saw the caller ID, how he swiped to answer, all of that.

And how his heart sank as he received this terrible news.

“Ragnar?”

“Who else then? What’s going on, Aslaug?” 

Silence on the other end of the line. He swore he could’ve heard a choked sound, one that came from a person trying to swallow their pain and misery. 

“Aslaug?”

“It’s Ivar. Oh, God, it’s Ivar,” the mother of his children seemed frantic, hysteric. Her breathing came out ragged.

“What about him,” Ragnar asked, trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t even know what was going on. 

“He was with Hvitserk. He was supposed to pick Ivar up from school. I don’t know what the hell they were doing, but they got into a crash. Hvitserk got out lucky with only a broken arm but Ivar- You know how fragile he is. The doctors are not sure if he’ll make it.”

Ragnar couldn’t bring himself to say much. Aslaug gave him the name of the hospital and that was that. He ended the call and quickly rushed into the closest car he could get to (Ubbe always muttered that he had too many cars), broke a couple of speed limits, and made it into the hospital.

It was a complete pain in the goddamn ass to get the workers to let him see his son, but eventually, he was escorted to a little hallway with shitty little plastic waiting chairs. Aslaug was not there at that moment. She went back to bring things for her boy when (if) he woke up. Ubbe was there, ever the responsible one, pacing back and forth, worry creased into his forehead, He always had that expression on, ever the worrier. He looked somewhat relieved when he saw Ragnar. Sigurd, to Ragnar’s surprise, was sitting on one of the chairs and crossed his arms. There was a look of worry on his pale face, and every now and then, he would look back at the sterile little room that housed his little brother. He didn’t bother to greet Ragnar. They didn’t have the best relationship (Ragnar’s fault, obviously) and Sigurd was a headstrong bastard, so there was little Ragnar could do to mend their relationship if Sigurd didn’t care to do so. Hvitserk was also sitting beside Sigurd and his face looked paralyzed in shock, fear, and worry. It had been a bit since Ragnar had seen Hvitserk in person, as his son seemed to inherit that addictive personality that Ragnar and his mother unfortunately had. He too fell into the vice of alcohol and drugs. A younger Ragnar probably would’ve blamed Hvitserk’s addictions on his lack of self-control and poor wisdom, but an older, somewhat wiser Ragnar, could sympathize with him. After all, he knew damn well that he had a part in Hvitserk’s benders. 

Hvitserk would party a lot and he was an elusive little bastard too, so he couldn’t be found unless he wanted to be found. Somehow, someway, Ivar managed to get his older brother out of hiding and force him into rehab. He was doing well for a bit, until now it seemed. 

Ragnar learned that Hvitserk was high as a kite when he was driving. Weed. He was supposed to pick up Ivar from school and bring him home.

And then this happened. 

Ragnar looked at Hvitserk, at his sunken eyes, at his too-pale skin, at his greasy long hair, and wanted to scream at him for being such a stupid, stupid fool- What the fuck made him relapse like this? 

He didn’t though. He didn’t scream at him. The horrified look on his face was enough for Ragnar to know that Hvitserk was already being punished enough by his own guilt. Ragnar could sympathize. He was a man who needed a good push to change, and for Ragnar, his push was the horrified expressions on Ubbe and Hvitserk’s faces when he tried to strangle his dealer for not giving him what he wanted. No, what he needed at that time. The girl, Yidu, quickly fled the scene and he was glad that she did. He would’ve killed her otherwise. 

Perhaps Hvitserk’s push would be this. 

Or maybe he would fall apart even further. 

Time can only tell. 

He sighed and sat next to Hvitserk, rubbing his face in his hands. Hvitserk didn’t even acknowledge him. His whole being seemed encased with ice, as he cradled his broken arm in his sling. Ragnar gently wrapped his arm around Hvitserk and Hvitserk all but sunk into his side. 

A few moments later the doctor quietly said that they could see him, but only one at a time. Ubbe went first, then Sigurd, and then Ragnar. Hvitserk didn’t move an inch. Too guilty for his part in this mess. 

Ivar’s life will never be one without complications. His youngest son was always going to have to live his life with some sort of complication. That was stamped on his head the second he was born with osteogenesis imperfecta, otherwise known as brittle bone disease. Now, Ivar was lucky in the sense that his OI wasn’t as severe as other cases, but it seemed to have taken a personal vendetta on his legs, as that was the part of him that was the most severely affected. Thanks to modern medicine and technology and whatnot, his legs are not as wasted as they could’ve been, but the breaks he suffered from them rendered him unable to walk without assistance. 

As he walked into the room, he felt as if he was dumped with a bucket of ice water. His little boy looked so small to him in that bed, in that familiar hospital gown, with all those wires and bandages attached to him. His face was covered with a breathing mask and Ragnar would think he was dead if it weren’t for the soft beeping of the machines singing in the background and the one stereotypical screen of a green line zig-zagging up and down. 

Ragnar felt overwhelmed with the same feeling that he had a million times over whenever Ivar had to go to the hospital. It never got better. He has been to hospitals so many times that he was honestly qualified enough to be a technician since he knew the machines so well. It never got any better and this time, it was worse, since this was the first time where the doctor was not entirely sure that his little boy will be ok. 

He stayed for a while and left the hospital later when the sun became occulted by night. 

He woke up the next day and went to go to the hospital but then did a detour to the old cemetery. 

It wasn’t the first time he lost a child. He knows that Ivar isn’t dead, but he knew if he would be, it would be a similar feeling to how he felt all those years ago when he lost his sweet little girl, Gyda, and how he wasn’t able to say goodbye to her because he was out chasing his two-faced dreams and making his two-faced name. That broke him the most. That he wasn’t able to say goodbye to her. If Ivar was to go, at least he would be able to cope. It wouldn’t be his first rodeo, after all. 

Sometimes, he thought about Gyda, about who she would be if she was given the chance to grow up. He sometimes had little dreams of a grown-up Gyda, who looked suspiciously like Lagertha except for dark hair and silver eyes, making him proud. In some dreams, she would jump into his arms with a diploma clutched in slender hands. In other dreams, she would proudly show off her successes in the fashion industry, as that was something he remembered his little girl obsessing over before she died. He tried to spoil her as much as he can back then, a father’s duty to his daughter, with whatever it is she wanted and that he could afford. If only he could spoil her now, with this multi-million (almost billion) dollar empire that he was able to procure with his blood, sweat, tears, and luck. A whole lot of luck. 

What would Gyda think of her old man today, now that was the question. How would she feel knowing that the father that she knew, the doting father who was always a rock in a raging ocean, ever so stalwart, was not that same father for his other kids? Gyda and Bjorn were lucky in that regard. They knew their father before he became obsessed with material life. They knew the best version of their father. And he was still that father in the first few years of Ubbe and Hvitserk’s lives, but soon afterward, he became distant and aloof. He couldn’t lie to himself. He was a bad father to his four other children. He had his moments of course, but most of the time, he was just a filthy, junky mess, and whatever relationship he could’ve had with his sons were either nipped at the bud or so fragile that eggshells would seem like titanium. 

Gyda would hate him, probably. He hated himself. He would probably continue hating himself till the end of times. For what he robbed of these poor boys, for how he left them to the wolves. If forgiveness would ever come from his sons, and Ragnar doubted it ever could, he would be able to die in the peace he never deserved. 

He sighed. He kneeled and wiped away the leaves that occulted the name on the flat marker.

Gyda Lothbrok. 

Ragnar felt guilt pierce through his heart when he saw the state of the thing. God, how long has it been since he has last been here? Or Lagertha? The stone was stained a sickly green, and some of the letters were discolored. As Ragnar looked at the marker, he thought about the more grandiose headstones that littered the cemetery. He then looked at this flat one, so unassuming and insignificant that he had to card through leaves for an entire two minutes before he could find the thing. She should’ve had a larger stone. One with an angel on it. She was an angel. 

However, it felt sordid to think about digging her back up to give her a better stone at a better plot. 

To make himself feel better, he would simply describe the headstone as humble. Yes, that. Humble. Gyda was a humble girl. 

Ivar will get the angel, then, if he doesn’t make it. He’d probably like that, considering his recent adventures in the gothic macabre. 

“Hello, Gyda…” 

His voice felt strange to him. As if it didn’t belong to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited for a while.” 

I’m sorry that I am only visiting because of the guilt I feel for my other sons. I am sorry that I am only visiting because I am not sure if my youngest, if my baby will survive. If he doesn’t, be kind to him, yes? He’s a stubborn boy. 

He didn’t say that out loud. 

The ravens kept cackling. The leaves kept stirring. Ragnar stayed there for a long time, speaking to this grave in cold Autumn before going back to the sterile haven of the hospital. 

[kcyars52]

therealvikingstrash

Jun 5

Jordan Patrick Smith in Lovecraft Country

[all-is-fair-in-love-and-war]

 🕸

[@tessastormrp, surprise me]

“We’re both gonna die…” Hvitserk muttered softly in fear as he stood behind Ubbe. He looked around cautiously as the two explored the supposedly haunted house.

Sigurd has dared Hvitserk to go into the house, and Hvitserk never being able to turn down a challenge he had agreed, although he had trapped his older brother into coming with him.

Despite the lack of logic in it, Hvitserk couldn’t help but believe in the idea of ghosts, but it still did not dissuade him of the challenge.

[bjornswoman]

Vikings Masterlist

Bjorn Ironside

Mine

Afraid of losing you

Heart's healer

His night

Precious

Arrows

Blue piercing eyes

I love you

Zinnia

False promises

Ubbe

His dark side

Jealous

Secret

Just listen

His bride

Sick girl

Little girl

My enemy and me*

Hvitserk

Goddess

One of his women

Betrayed

Best friends

Crazy and mad

Lies* (remake) / Lies*

Fake wedding

Worth it

My prisoner

Ivar the Boneless

Mad about you

Last night, Back to you

Break

Feelings

Crimes of love

Games and conflicts

Jealous girl

Right person wrong time

Photograph

Toxic I, II

Destruction*

Harald Finehair

Promise

Allies

Live for me

Free with you

Shieldmaiden's secret

[peaceisadirtyword]

The Ragnarssons on Instagram

A few months ago I spent an entire morning doing this because I had an intrusive thought about how it would be if the sons of Ragnar had Instagram. And this came up. I thought it could be fun, I had a lot of fun doing it 👀

I did everything on Canva and using pictures from Pinterest.

• Björn:

-Wouldn’t really care about social media.

-Would post pics of his travels.

-Sometimes he’d flirt but he’d never start the conversation.

-Would post a pic with Lagertha and only a hastag for mother’s day.

-Would never post pics of his gfs but selfies with Halfdan.

• Ubbe:

-Would be the influencer with the perfect life.

-Most of his pics would be taken by Ivar.

-If someone slid into his dms he’d reject them politely.

-Would post a lot about travelling with children.

-Would post a pic with Torvi and a huge text for mother’s day.

•Hvitserk:

-Would pretend he doesn’t care but make Ivar take thousands of pics.

-He would use it to flirt.

-His stories would be of him partying and sailing with his bros.

-Sometimes he’d post something with his nephews to impress his crush.

-Also memes, he’d love memes.

•Sigurd:

-The first thing he’d do would be blocking Ivar.

-Very intense and edgy.

-Would react to stories with a 🔥 to flirt.

-Would post a lot about music and concerts.

-Inspirational quotes and curiosities.

-Would share pics of cats.

•Ivar:

-Would barely post anything.

-He’d make fun of Ubbe being an influencer.

-Quotes and songs with indirects.

-If someone slid into his dms he’d threaten them.

-Would block everyone but have secret accounts to stalk.

-Hvitserk is the only brother he would post pics with.

[jadelynlace]

What the Boys of Ink Drinker Drive

Complete with pictures!

Catch up on the AU here.

(This is totally not because my new EMS “probie” is a car-guy.)

Hvitserk:

Toyota Tundra, he’s now a truck guy because every guy at the firehouse drives a truck. He cleans it regularly, and is meticulous with its care, since it’s been instilled in him with the ambulances, and fire engines. He’s considering transferring to the electric version, but can’t quite get past the fact that under the hood, there’s...nothing.

Ivar:

1966 Ford Mustang Fast Back, before his accident. After his accident he drives a Jeep Wrangler, that he’s considering trading it in for one that has a top that folds down.

Ubbe:

1972 426 Hemi Cuda. It’s fast, it’s loud, it's obnoxious. It gives him small dick energy. Fun fact: In this AU, Ubbe is a mechanic, with his own repair shop. He’s good with his hands (respond to that how you see fit).

Bjorn:

Cadillac Escalade. There are condoms in the glove box. 

Sigurd:

Actually Sigurd hates to drive, but when he does he drives a mini cooper. (Special shout out to @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog because for the life of me I could not find something that fit, like she did.) Sometimes though, he takes his Indian. Despite Hvitserk’s harsh words about the dangers of “donor-cycles”.

[barnes-lothbrok]

Modern Ragnarsons

The Lothbrok brothers (excluding Sigurd ans Björn)

[solioquyforme]

I just published my first 2nd person smut. I’m still not comfortable writing in 2nd or as a modern AU. But oh well.

[not-another-viking-fanfic-blog]

In this modern AU, Angrboda was lost to her family when a pandemic swept the world shortly after her fifth birthday. They became trapped on opposite sides of the wall that cut off the territory of Kattegat from the rest of the world. One of a dozen Sealed Territories around the world, Kattegat is assumed to be a dead city almost two decades later.

When a team of scientists plan to breach the wall, Angrboda or Bodi as she is now known, schemes her way into the group with the help of her adopted sister, Sumi, and in order to do so, Bodi must hide her connection to the community. Once there, Kattegat is nothing like she expected. Faced with new information and unexpected connections, Bodi must decide if she'll remain true to the life she has built or find her home in Kattegat once again.

I was partnered with the incredibly talented @fejaxtales in this VBB. I loved “The Lost Daughter” and am honoured to have been able to create some bits and bobs for it. Thank you so much to @fejaxtales for writing such a delightful piece, and for letting me collaborate with you.

(And a huge thank you to all at @vikingsbigbang, I know we’re sometimes not the easiest bunch to keep on track! You guys deserve medals!)

I hope you all enjoy reading The Lost Daughter as much as I have

With love, Megsy xx

[istorkyou]

A Thousand Battles (A Modern!Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings - NSFW, MINORS DNI. Language. 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 - 3457

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

Shout Outs - A massive shout out to @blackseapearl and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for beta reading, ironing out all the mistakes and the motivation to keep going with it. Special hugs to @blackseapearl for talking through the ending with me and giving me some much needed inspiration and the wonderful moodboard.

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!

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​​ @bragisrunes​​@noway4u @batmandallyboy​​ @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73​​​​ @meandmycherrytree

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

CHAPTER 6

She packs her bag with all her essentials, including lots of the racy underwear she has yet to let him see her in. “Three days is better than nothing. Thank you, Ivar,” she throws herself at him, covering his face with kisses.

He tried to remain neutral but he can’t help but smile at her affection.“There will be rules. Liet, stop that, you need to listen to me.” He detangles her hands from up under his shirt. “We will only go to places I know and trust. They will be places we have been together so they may help your memory. Security will be with us the whole time. If I get called away in business you are not to leave the apartment. Do you understand, love?”

She nods fervently then a thought occurs to her. “I want to see my old place.”

“We will see it once security have done a full sweep of the apartment.”

“Do I have a lot of my stuff there? Did I still use it even though I was living on the estate?”

“You have lots of your stuff there,” he replies, nodding, “clothes, make-up, books. You used it a couple of times a month, maybe? If you were going out with friends you would sometimes go to the gym and straight to your apartment to get ready, then stay overnight. If I was away on business you would stay there if you had no obligations to the family. You were always reluctant to get rid of it, you said it was because you didn’t know how you wanted to invest the money from it but I always had a feeling it was more to do with having a sense of independence away from the family. I understood: our life is rather all-encompassing.”

She gives him a withering look. “All-encompassing? No! Surely not!” the voice dripping with sarcasm before she starts to laugh. “You are a good man, Ivar. Thank you for being so understanding of me, the before me and the now me.”

He handles the compliment as he always does, shakes his head and flicks his hand at her as if it’s nothing, when they both know it really isn’t nothing. It’s a big deal and she will keep telling him until he believes her.

“Why did I pay for a gym when we’ve got one in the house?”

“Same reason why you want to leave now. A normal life, a bit of freedom away from the estate. You used to meet your friends there, it was a social thing for you. Come on baby, let’s get you into the real world.”

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

Their car pulls up to a high rise building that looks like any other high rise block of apartments in the city, nothing special about it at all. Julietta is surprised, knowing how lavish each of the houses on the estate are, how the Lothbroks enjoy the finer things in life. This is not what she expected at all. The cars pull into the underground car park and they are both ushered into the service elevator where Ivar swipes a key card, enters an extraordinarily long number sequence and places his fingers on a pad before the elevator starts to move.

“Told you the security was heavy here, baby.”

When the doors open they are on a floor, but there aren’t many doors as there are in usual apartment floors, there is just one, massive, metal door at the end of the corridor. Ivar places his hand on the small of her back and guides her towards it, then spins her around as the security guards open the heavy door. “We will wait out here for a minute until they sweep the place.”

When they are allowed in she realises that appearances can definitely be deceptive. It looks like the whole of this floor is one giant apartment - maybe it’s only half the floor? She can’t tell yet. It’s decadent. The type of apartment you see on those million dollar listing shows, except this would be more like a multi million dollar apartment show. It’s decorated in an ultra modern style, with electrical panels on the walls that control Gods knows what. The furniture is avant garde, and frankly, it looks uncomfortable.

“You okay, Liet? Your eyes are like saucers!”

“This is not what I thought the inside would be like,” she says, eyes sweeping over the expansive area.

“Yes, Ragnar enjoys oversized everything, to go along with his oversized sense of self,” he adds under his breath. “This way to the bedroom.”

The main bedroom is in the corner of the apartment, massive windows and a bed even bigger than the one in their home. Other than a painting above the bed, it’s decorated sparsely.

“En-suite that way. I’m just going to talk to security.” He leaves her to explore the en-suite. Ultra modern, ultra techy; the shower is enormous and has the same ledge running along the wall as their own at home, custom for Ivar’s needs, no doubt.

She showers quickly and opens her packed bag, pulling out the underwear she brought with her. She tried on a mesh bra and panties with small embroidered hearts all over them. Nice, she thinks, but too cutesy for her mood. She pulls out a black corset, covered in delicate black lace with tiny hints of red through it. She struggles with the million hooks but manages to do them up eventually, shoving her hand into the front to adjust her boobs so they look amazing, if she does say so herself. She slips on the matching panties and turns to the side, then the back and is pleased with what she sees. She knows Ivar will like it and she does a little jig of excitement.

“Liet? What are you doing in there? We are supposed to be going out!”

She takes a deep, calming breath in, trying her hardest to pluck up the nerve to walk out and show him what she's wearing.

“Come on, Liet. Don’t be a pussy!” she scolds herself in the mirror. She puts on the black stockings and high heels and strides out confidently into the expansive apartment and heads towards him. The clicking of her heels drags his attention from his phone and she slows her walk as she watches his mouth fall open so wide.

“You will catch flies, your mouth hanging open like that.” She stops just in front of him, allowing him to take in the full sight of her. “Have you seen me in this before?”

He doesn’t talk, he seems incapable, he just shakes his head as his eyes run all over her.

She giggles at his reaction, her own confidence growing massively because of it. She bends forward at the waist and runs her thumb over his bottom lip. “I think you are drooling, Ivar!” Gently, she straddles him and his face watches her completely dumbfounded. She purposely rubs herself against his crotch. “Say something,” she demands

He shakes his head a little, eyes all over her chest then face. “I thought we were going out for a meal, you wanted some freedom?

“We could fit in a quickie, surely?” she says in a silky voice, starting to grind onto his lap and running her tongue slowly over his neck.

“I will be doing nothing quick to you in that outfit, I will take my sweet ass time with you in this.” His hands run up her waist and onto her tits before shouting, “Oh fuck, baby. Shit!” Grabbing his suit jacket to cover her up, he wraps it around her shoulders. “There are cameras everywhere in this place. Everywhere apart from the en suite. Shit, I didn’t think!”

She looks around the ceiling and sees cameras in all corners of all rooms. She can feel herself go red and hides her face in his neck. “Fucking great. You could have told me before I just spent the last 30 minutes trying on all different sexy underwear in the bedroom.”

He looks into the corner of the room, pointing at the camera. “Delete all the footage. I will be checking when I get home,” he says darkly, clearly addressing whoever is on security detail that evening. He turns his attention back to her and softens immediately when he sees her pouting.

“I want to have sex, Ivar and there is no way I’m doing it with all these cameras around and I’m not screwing in the en-suite for the next three days.”

“Sorry, love. They won’t turn the cameras off,” he tells her regretfully.

“Let’s go to my old apartment, it will be safe, surely?”

He shakes his head forcefully. “They haven’t secured it yet.”

“Can you get them to do it now? I need you so much,” she whispers in his ear, looking at him from under her lashes leaning into him, pushing her tits into his chest. “I’m so wet for you. Feel me,” she grabs his hand and guides his fingers to the stickiness between her legs. “I had plans for you tonight, and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow night…” She pushes his fingers into her making sure they are hidden from the cameras by his jacket. She moves her hips into his hand, fucking herself on his fingers. “I want you to cum in my mouth. I want to taste you, Ivar.

She can feel his dick growing hard in his trousers, so she reaches in, wrapping her fingers around him as he moans into her mouth. She can feel his free hand rummaging for something and his phone is at his ear, voice trying to sound even as her hand still works his dick.

Ivar clears his throat. “Send two of the men to her apartment, we are going to spend the next three days there. Do it quickly. I want to leave within the hour.” He throws his phone to the side and grabs her hair, pulling her mouth onto his. “Gods, you drive me insane. Go and get your stuff, leave that on though, just put your coat over the top.”

The security knocks on the door thirty minutes later, giving them the all is clear.

“Let’s go,” Ivar growls at her, guiding her towards the door.

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

Her apartment isn’t like the Lothbroks apartment. When she walks in ahead of Ivar she immediately feels at home. It’s big, the walls are all cream and covered in mismatched artwork that makes her smile. There is a bookcase running around the double door frame that leads to her bedroom. She walks to them and starts to read the book titles before she is spun around and her back is pushed against the case.

Ivar’s mouth is covering hers in an instant, his tongue in her mouth and hands bruising her ass. He pushes her coat down onto the floor. “On your knees for me, Julietta,” he instructs her roughly.

With a half-smile on her face at his instruction her eyes don’t leave his as she slowly sinks down in front of him, using her discarded coat to make the hard floor more comfortable. She starts to undo his belt and trousers and licks her lips, making Ivar huff in amusement. When she pulls his trousers and boxers down, her mouth starts to water at the sight of him, hard and glistening in front of her face. She runs her tongue slowly over the tip, tasting the pre cum.

“Are you excited, Ivar?” She laughs lightly as he nods quickly. “Is it the outfit? The anticipation on the drive over? Or is it me on my knees in front of you?” she asks him quietly, voice low and sultry. Not waiting for the answer. She takes his dick into her mouth and sucks gently, enjoying the look on his face as she does; eyes closed, mouth open.

“Fuck, baby. That feels so good.” When he looks into her eyes the butterflies of excitement and pride flutter around her stomach, spurring her on to suck harder, sliding her mouth up and down him. His hands grip the bookcase, white knuckled, as his moans float down over her. His hand buries into the back of her hair, momentarily pulling and pushing her head before his eyes pop open in alarm; she sees apprehension and panic and then his hand is gone.

She can read him now: he wants to control the pace but he is scared to hurt her, be too rough with her like he was the first time. She lets him slip from her lips. “Ivar, do you want to fuck my mouth?” she offers softly. “You can tell me.”

“I… I… no, what you are doing is amazing, don’t stop, please.” He gives her a tight smile.

She sits back on her heels and looks up at him. “Don’t do that. Tell me what you want from me, what you need. You want to fuck my mouth. Say it,” she instructs him encouragingly.

“I don’t want to lose control and be too rough.” He looks away, shame in his eyes and she can’t help but roll her eyes a little

She wraps her hand around the base of his cock. “There. Now you won’t choke me,” she says with a naughty little smirk then paints the most innocent look she can in her face. “You just need to ask me, I’ll tell you if it’s a no. This is a yes. I don’t think we are going anywhere tonight so you can ruin my mascara, if you want?”

As she slowly slips down his length his hand is back in her hair, moving her at the pace he likes, moaning her name as he climbs towards his orgasm. When his hand fists her hair, holding her head still, he starts to thrust roughly, one hand is on the bookcase steadying him as he fucks her mouth.

She concentrates on her breathing. She wants to show him she can do it, do well for him, to give him what he wants. She takes her hand away to give him full control and he hisses as his dick slips to the back of her throat, making her gag and her eyes water

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum… gonna cum.”

She gives him a quick nod and he thrust one last time, deep into her throat and comes in with a roar of pleasure. She manages to swallow most of him before he pulls out, some of his cum dribbling down her chin.

He leans, panting against the bookcase, head in the crook of his arm. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby.”

She wipes her eyes and her chin and stands up between him and the bookcase. He moves quickly, his hand back in her hair pulling it back harshly, exposing the length of her neck and his mouth is sucking marks on her skin.

“Your turn, love,” he growls into her neck. He spins them both around so his back is against the books and he lifts her leg up resting on the shelving behind him. His fingers dance across the skin of her thigh until they find the edge of her lacy panties, pushing the material aside.

She lets out a guttural moan when he slides two fingers inside of her, gripping his shoulder hard.

“Always so wet for me, always ready, aren’t you, baby?” He yanks her hair back, making her moan even more, and continues to fuck her with his fingers, bruising her delicate skin with his mouth. “Hmmm, the noises you make for me, you are making me hard again.” He pulls her head down so they are face to face. “You like that?” He bites her lips and curls his fingers inside her even more. “You want my dick inside you?”

She can’t answer him. She just whines as his fingers work her into a frenzy. When she comes, her legs are shaking so much he has to help to hold her up.

“There’s my good girl.” He kisses her softly and leads her towards the bed.

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

They are both jolted awake by Ivar’s phone ringing at 7am. He fumbles around, eyes still half closed trying to find it.

“What?” His pissed off, gravelling morning voice stirring her lust already. “No… I can't, I'm not…” He listens intently, rubbing his eyes and smiling down at her as she shifts and starts to kiss his side, sliding her body forward to run her tongue over his hard stomach, letting her hand wander to his lap, gently wrapping her fingers around his half hard cock. “Give me two hours…” His hand tangles in her knotty bed hair, pushing her down towards his dick and she lets out a little giggle. Suddenly his hand stops her descent and his body goes rigid. “Fine, I will leave immediately,” he spits coldly and then ends the call.

She looks up at him with sad eyes. “Hey, don't look at me like that,” he protests, “believe me, I’m sadder than you at not getting the blow job I was two seconds away from enjoying. I’m sorry, something has come up.”

“I know,” she gestures to his rock solid dick. “I was just about to enjoy it!” she huffs sulkily.

“I will be back by this evening. I’m sorry, baby. You can’t stay here, it’s not safe enough and I need to take two of the security with me. Pack up what you need for today and I will have them drive you back to the apartment. It’s totally secure and I won’t have to worry with you there.”

“Fine,” she grumps at him before heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth, catching sight of herself in the mirror. “IVAR! Look at the state of me!” She tilts her head up looking at the multiple bruises on her neck. She can hear him chuckling to himself.

“Just a few love bites, baby!”

“I look like a teenager. Jesus Christ!”

He appears in the bathroom door typing on his phone. “I have to go now. The guards will make sure you get back okay. Sorry I have to go so quickly. Business, something urgent.”

He puts his phone in his pocket and walks to her, reaching for her jaw and tipping it to the side, evaluating the marks in her neck. “Some of my best work,” he muses before she playfully smacks his hand away and pokes her tongue out. “I will see you tonight. Let’s try and fulfil the purpose of this outing and actually go out in public, not that I’m complaining about last night...” He winks, kisses her and is out the door.

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

15 minutes later she’s in the car on the way back to the Lothbrok apartment, looking out of the window, wondering how she will pass the time until Ivar returns.

“Stop the car!” She shouts as she sees a massive sign saying “Gilwell Open Market” with a distinct colourful pattern swirling behind the letters. Her brain shows her snapshots of her shopping in the market, buying food, talking to people, laughing with the sellers. She sees her and Ivar together, walking hand in hand. She realises, with all the sudden shock of recollection, that it’s her memories.

“Stop now!” She hits the back of the driver's headrest.

“Mrs Lothbrok, I can't do that. I have strict instructions to–”

“Stop this fucking car immediately! I’ve had a memory, something about that market. Please, please, please stop!” she tearfully pleads with the driver. He pulls over after his eyes meet hers in the rear view.

“Mrs Lothbrok, I cannot let you out of this car.”

“I… I need to go into the market, I need to see it! Please, I’ve had no memories at all and this might be my only chance to jog something! Please!”

The two security guards look at each other, unsure what to do.

She sees an opportunity to use their hesitation against them. She sits back haughtily. “Mr Lothbrok will not be happy if you hinder me in my recovery. I know you both will keep me safe out there, I’ve all the faith in the world in your abilities,” she says silkily. She can hear herself, the words and the tone and it’s strange, she is manipulating them with ease and it isn’t like her but she can’t think about that right now. Right now she needs to get into the market and see if any other memories are unearthed.

“Ten minutes, and you will wear this hat and my sunglasses. Do not talk to anyone. Am I understood?”

“Understood.” Her heart is thumping hard, adrenaline, excitement, apprehension, but she needs to do this.

Chapter 7

[therealvikingstrash]

A Loðbrók Magazine AU for your special day @ritual-unions 💕

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

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

[flare-queen]

Casual Ubbe on a walk

[not-that-syndrigast]

I'm a surprisingly big christmas fan, its never soon enough for some decoration, but you cant leave out any Vikings jokes and wessex loosing their W for a statue.

Hvitserk would love Christmas, btw.