#Vikings Fanfic

[writingoddess1125]

WE SEE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Part Five

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count:  1531

Warnings: reader learning archer, sassy bjorn, emotionally complex ivar, threats, time travel, drinking, hangover

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two Part three Part four

Masterlist Here

Last night had been the first truly relaxing nights of your stay so far. You drank, sang guitar round a campfire on the beach, learned some Viking songs and tall tales, and now woke up with a splitting hangover. “Time to get up,” Ubbe said as he opened the door.

You just grumbled in response, pulling the covers further over your head. You heard sighing then footsteps then suddenly felt the shivering cold. Ubbe stood grinning over your, “Revenge,” he grinned down at you, offering you a hand.

“Die,” you grumbled, burying your head into the pillow.

You could hear laughter from the door, “Finally becoming one of us,” Ivar, you think, laughed.

“Or worse. she’s becoming like you,” Sigurd’s teasing led to more cursing, some thuds, and Ubbe running to split up some kind of fight as you sat up in bed. This was going to be a long day.

-

“Why do I need to learn this?” you whined as Hvitserk helped you load an arrow onto your bow.

“Well if you like to eat you need to learn how to shoot,” Ubbe said as he and Sigurd leant against a tree to watch your struggles. Ivar was sat just a few feet away on a cut down tree.

all boys were noticeably behind you as they watched the arrow sink into a tree three feet from your target. Hvitserk helped you load another arrow before making the mistake of joking to a very hungover, very fed-up woman. “How are you getting worse?”

You huffed, spinning around still holding the bow making all the boys duck. Even Hvitserk jumped away, “Watch where you point that thing!” Sigurd said, hands covering his face.

“Scared of some little girl?” Ivar laughed. Though it stopped when you turned the arrow at him. He held his hands in the air in mock defence, “I thought we were friends,”

“Don’t test me,” you grumbled, turning back to the target. “This was so much easier on the Wii,”

“What’s a Wii?” you sighed as the four asked in unison. Instead of answering you ignored them, rolling your shoulders back before taking aim again. Breathe in, breathe out, and release.

Thud. The arrow hit the edge of the target. “You’ll get there- “Ubbe tried to speak but you cut him off.

“I did it!” you almost screamed, jumping up and down. “Ha take that!” you said, thrusting the bow up like you’d won the Olympics making the boys laugh.

“Please if we were hunting not only would you scare away the deer, but you only would’ve shot his ankle,” Hvitserk said, as he pulled out another arrow for you to use.

You rolled your eyes as you loaded it yourself this time, all be it with a slight struggle without his wins, “Don’t you guys ever celebrate the small victories?”

“What’s the point of that?” Ubbe asked with all seriousness.

“For motivation? To be happy?” you said, like it was the most obvious thing as you lined up your shot. Breathe in and release. “See!” you said, the arrow now slightly closer to the centre than before, “Positive thinking gets you places,”

“Yeah, like the bottom of a pile of dead bodies,” Ivar chortled.

You turned around with a sickeningly sweet smile, “Would you like to be one of them?”

A small smirk formed on his face as the other boys laughed. You felt Hvitserk place his arm over your shoulder, “Oh you’ll fit in nicely soon enough,���

-

By the end of archery practise you were now able to hit the target each time. Not the centre but still. Progress was there. Then it was there turn to do their real practising. Watching Ivar hit the bullseye with his axe each time as he glared at Sigurd made you thankful guns weren’t invented here. You almost told them about them but even if they were nice to you, you didn’t need to give them anymore ideas.

By the time you got back to Kattegat the sun was beginning to set and dinner was nearly ready. Bjorn joined you once again. Apparently, this was unusual for the Ironborn however it was Hvitserk who told you this and you quickly learned he was a massive gossip. Not that you were complaining. However thankfully for you Ragnar and Aslaug were not joining you. Its not that you didn’t like them, but Ragnar asked you a million question while she had a way of staring through your sole.

Somehow you ended up between him and Ivar and any time someone told a story your legend you didn’t understand he was quick to whisper in your ear. “What lies are you telling her brother?” Bjorn, who was sat across from you, asked as he was telling a story of his latest travels.

“That you truly are as tough as you look,” Hvitserk smirked. Despite not having Ivar’s rage or Sigurd’s instigation, Hvitserk was clearly able to hold his own.

Bjorn hummed disapprovingly before turning back to you, “How unfortunate you travel all this way to be stuck with these fools,” he said, glancing round the table, “Not a real man among them,”

“Maybe,” you said, deciding if you were going to be surrounded by argumentative Vikings you may as well try fit in, “Or maybe we have a different definition of a real man,”

“And what would your definition be?” he asked, putting his elbows on the table, and leaning in closer.

His eyes were locked on yours, so you decided instead to let yours look him up and down before sitting back, “Why? Do you need some lessons on how to be one?”

The younger Ragnorsson’s sniggered while Ubbe watched the whole scene carefully. Your eyes stayed locked on Bjorn’s until he sat back in his chair with a smile, “There’s hope for you yet, little one,” he said before dropping the smile, “Though I don’t recommend questioning me again,” The sight made your blood run cold but you did your best to smile, bringing a cup of wine to your lips as the meal soon continued.

-

Somehow you managed to escape from the brothers while they were distracted by finding a new crate of ale. While drinking wasn’t exactly restricted in university, they drank like it was a sport and there was no way you could keep up.

Even though you now wore a Vikings dress and apron there was some things from home you couldn’t let go of; modern underwear and sleeping in a comfy t-shirt. It was the one you had arrived in though admittedly you were going to have to wash it and your other clothes soon. The issue was that meant asking one of the brothers where or how to wash it and you had no desire for them to see these items. Well not yet at least.

 When you got back to your room you slipped out the starched dress and into the soft cotton shirt and got under your furs about to sleep. Before you could however the door opened. “Ivar?”

“My brothers bore me,” he sighed as he crawled over to your bed. You pulled the furs slightly closer, realising you only had the t-shirt on as your cheeks flushed. Ivar took no notice as he pulled himself up to sit beside you, “You were the only interesting one there,”

“A little flattery goes a long way,” you said but he quirked his head at that, “It’s an expression where I’m from,”

“Is flattery not a good thing?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Depends. My professor told me flattery and insults raise the same question; what do you want? Though I think he stole that from someone,”

“Well, all I want is your company,” he answered and at rare moments when you were alone Ivar didn’t look blood thirsty and terrifying. In fact, he seemed kind of gentle as he let a small smile escape. You couldn’t help letting out a light laugh, “Though I don’t understand how someone can steal words,”

Again, you shrugged, “I guess our people just value different things,” you said as a silence washed over you both.

After a few moments Ivar broke it, “I don’t think so. I think, deep down, all we all want is to be safe,” he said it quietly, as if he was worried someone may eaves drop.

It broke your heart a little though, “I suppose but I would’ve said happy,”

“Happy is a dangerous emotion,” he said, staring off into the distance, “everyone craves it, so they chase it, but they assume there is only so much of it to go around so they steal it. I do not need to be happy. Just content,”

You weren’t sure why you grabbed his hand, but you gave it a soft squeeze. His cheeks tinged pink, but you pretended not to notice, “I think content is a different kind of happy. Maybe if we were all so content with it, we could all be happy,”

“Maybe,”

“It’s a dangerous word,” you said.

Ivar snorted, “How can a word be dangerous?”

“How can happiness be?” you shot back with a small smile.

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[gwen-novella]

Ivar Ragnarsson - Nsfw Alphabet

Pairing: Ivar x female reader

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: Smut (18+ !!!), it's a nsfw alphabet so expect all things sex, all kinds of kinks, no use of y/n

Summary: A nsfw alphabet for our favorite boy that's only soft for you. Can be read as part of TPAW.

Author’s note: I have reappeared from my hiatus. I decided to finally try my hand at writing fanfics again and thought I'd start off with something short and easy - ended up writing 3.5K words anyways. Mission failed successfully. Please excuse if my writing is a little rusty.

Please consider commenting or reblogging - it really makes my day!

(*) smár brandr = little blade

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Anyone that knows Ivar and has seen the two of you together will notice that he is uncharacteristically open, affectionate, and kind to you. Whenever this is pointed out to you, you always struggle to hide an amused snicker behind a bashful smile. If only they knew. 

The two of you lay entangled on the bed. Your left leg is thrown over Ivars midsection and your arm traces invisible shapes on his chest. Ivar is laying on his back, his left arm lays underneath your body and is stroking up and down your back. Both of your breathing has calmed by now and with the gentle hum of satisfaction in your veins you’d be perfectly content to stay like this forever. 

The almost meditative state you’re in is broken when your left hand is halted in its movements, now gently held in Ivars right. Tilting your head up to look at him, you meet Ivars gaze and the intensity in his eyes almost makes you shy away. "I treasure you, smár brandr." (*)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ivar doesn’t give much thought to his body. For quite obvious reasons he avoids it as much as possible. He does like his hands though. He’s quite good at using them, whether that be spinning a dagger or wrapping them around your throat. 

Ivar has also become more accepting of the rest of his body as your relationship progresses. How could he not, when you hold his face in your hands, your delicate fingers tracing his features, when you constantly compliment his strong arms and back and when you don’t even bat an eye at the sight of his legs.

When it comes to you, there isn’t a part of your body that Ivar doesn’t like. Though he has a strange fascination with your neck. Kissing it, biting it, but especially wrapping his hand around it. It’s not so much the choking itself that turns him on - but the trust you show him when you allow his fingers to slowly tighten around your throat. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Further elaborated under K = Kink, but Ivars favorite place to cum is deep inside you. "Where I belong", he’d once told you, caressing your lower stomach. However, when the night is still young and he plans to make the both of you cum several times, Ivar enjoys watching you swallow his cum.

Ivar’s sat, fully clothed, at the edge of his bed, his unfocused eyes gazing down at your kneeling form on the ground, your sweet lips wrapped around his cock. You’re sat between his legs, one hand stroking along the length that doesn’t fit in your mouth, the other underneath your skirt, drawing circles over your clit. 

You can tell Ivar is close, his breathing labored as his cock throbs against your eager tongue. His arms move from their place at his side and you’re certain he’ll pull you off him and toss you on the bed, as he does so often, but his hands find their way into your hair, gripping tightly and aiding your movements. 

"I’ll cum down your throat", he raps, sending a bolt of arousal through you, "and you won’t dare swallow until I tell you to."

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When you and Ivar first slept together it was you who took the lead to begin with. And even though his touches became more confident and urgent throughout, they were clearly still laced with inexperience until they weren’t. 

"Your eyes snap open as you feel a finger drawing circles on your clit, looking down to see Ivar has taken one of his hands off your hips and is instead circling your sensitive nub with his thumb. How he knows to do this, you do not know, but you are thankful for it, already feeling the coil in your stomach tightening."

Ivar would rather spend the rest of his days locked in a shed with an ever-singing Sigurd than admit that he knows those things because he had watched some of his brothers with Margrethe. Looking back, he is deeply embarrassed. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None. Well, that is if you don’t count his horrid encounter with Margrethe (which you don’t). You were the first woman he ever slept with. 

Don’t worry though, Ivar is very quick learner. Whether that includes learning alongside you, if you’re equally inexperienced, or learning from you, if you’re more experienced. If the latter is the case, expect your prior partners to have some less than pleasant encounters with Ivar.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It very much depends on his mood. If he wants you to take charge: cowgirl. 

He’ll either sit back against the headboard or lay down flat on his back to watch you bounce and circle your hips above him. Don’t think him to be a passive participant though. Much like his eyes, his mouth and hands won’t stop wandering. His lips find their way to your neck, leaving evidence of the nights activities on your skin for all to see, sucking and biting on your nipples until they’re sore and whispering the filthiest of commands and praises.

Every tilt of your hips grinds your clit against his pubic hair, sending sparks up your spine. So caught up in your pleasure you don’t notice Ivars hand moving until it’s slipped its way around your throat, making your eyes flutter open once more. When had they even closed? 

"Look at you", Ivar groans, "riding me so well, smár brandr." Using his hand to tilt your head down to look at him, Ivar fixes you with his piercing gaze. "Mhm", he hums, "Like a goddess… or a whore." The hand around your throat tightens. 

If Ivar is in the mood to watch you squirm underneath him (which is often) he’ll take you from behind, pressing you flat on your belly and draping himself along your back. 

If anyone has given him reason to be possessive, or jealous, expect to wobble your way around Kattegat the next day. Instead of gripping your throat, like usual, his hand will grip your hair in a makeshift pony tail, either pressing your head into the pillow, or raising your ear to his lips, making sure to tell you who you belong to.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your muffled moans against the furs. Ivars hips pound into yours so deeply, you’re sure that you won’t be able to sit properly tomorrow. Suddenly your head is yanked from the pillows and you feel Ivars breath against the side of your face. 

"You’re mine", he hisses. "Mine to love, mine to kiss, mine to fuck." Nibbling along your shoulder Ivar promises darkly: "Tomorrow, when you’re not able to leave this bed, I’ll kill Earl Leif… Perhaps I’ll bring him here first. Would you like that, hm? Make him watch how good only I can make you feel?" 

You don’t even remember what the foreign Earl had done to anger Ivar, your brain not absorbing anything that isn’t the drag of Ivars cock along your walls.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Ivar is a very passionate lover. As such he does really immerse himself into the act. It’s not so much that you’d call him serious in those moments, it’s just that he’s so zeroed in on you - the rest of the world could burn around him for all he cares. 

Sex is also a very vulnerable thing for Ivar. In your chambers, when it’s just you and him, he’s a very different man than the one most perceive him to be. Most people know not to intrude upon your little safe haven, at least if they want to keep all their limbs. 

Hvitserk learned this the hard way one night when in a drunken state he mistook Ivars room for his own. He had barely stepped a foot over the threshold when a dagger had already planted itself into the wooden frame next to his head.

In the afterglow of it all Ivar is probably at his most vulnerable and most relaxed. The two of you will cuddle, talk about everything or nothing at all and sometimes that includes laughing together.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As explained above Ivar tries to avoid thinking too much about his body. As such he doesn’t groom. His medical condition however has lead to him having impeccable personal hygiene, since his legs often need to be washed, moisturized and bandaged.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again, Ivar is a very passionate and devoted lover. Most times this will express itself in a raw, sort of untamed way. Some may label this rough - the way his hands firmly grip your hips, the firm snap of his hips and the incessant way he kisses and bites anywhere he can reach can certainly feel like it. Everything he does though is born from love, from devotion.

Occasionally, he slows. Ivars passion become gentle and sweet, drawn out like strings of honey - seeking comfort in you.

You can feel the warmth of his release coat your walls, a pleasant hum of satisfaction in your veins, not as pulsing and exhausting as you’re used to. You make to raise yourself from Ivars cock, from his lap, to cuddle up beside him, when his hands that so softly caress your hips tighten for a split second. 

"Don’t move", Ivar whispers, the first words he’s spoken since he’s entered your heat. "I want to stay like this for a while." You don’t decline.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Since Ivars relationship with sex started off the way it did, sex isn’t really about "getting off" itself. Don’t get him wrong, Ivar enjoys having sex, enjoys cumming, as much as any man. It’s just that he doesn’t crave for it, if it is not with you. 

Ivar doesn’t need sex - he needs sex with you. Ivar doesn’t need release - he needs release with you. If he can’t have you he doesn’t bother.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding Kink

Ivar never thought he’d be able to have kids. He didn’t even think he’d be able to fuck. When one fateful night with you led him to discover that he could in fact please a woman, sex was the only thing on his mind. For weeks you spent every night in Ivars bed, his head in between your thighs, your mouth around his length and his cock deep in your cunt. It was a comment from one of his brothers over breakfast that planted an even deeper desire into his heart. 

Ivar had teased Hvitserk for looking so tired, knowing full well his room was right next to Ivars and that Hvitserk had probably been kept awake by your squealing the night prior. It was then that Ubbe, in an attempt to prevent a fight, almost mindlessly commented: "Don’t fret Hvitserk. Not much longer and he’ll have put a babe in her belly. Then Ivars tiny room will no longer suffice and we’ll be rid of them."

Trust Kink (?)

Hear me out. Ivar’s never really had anyone he could trust completely, some he’s comfortable being vulnerable around. Likewise, he’s also never had anyone that trusted him, that willingly was vulnerable around him. And whilst it took a long time for your relationship to progress to this state, now that it has Ivar cannot get enough of it - this feeling of safety and belonging. 

As such, everything that reminds him of this, anything that is proof of this precious trust is an instant turn on for him. His hand around your throat, him caging you under his body, restraining your hands above your head, cutting your clothes from your body using his dagger… 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As explained, Ivar does not take kindly to his time with you being interrupted. Therefore his room it is.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Short answer: You. Long answer: Also you. 

As explained above, once Ivar realized he could have sex, there wasn’t a lot of holding back on his side. He was insatiable. Though, the thing that gets him going more than anything else is the realization that not only could he fuck you, but you wanted him to.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hurting you.

Anything beyond reddish handprints in the places he grabs you, love bites across your throat and chest and the wobble in your step the next morning is a hard no. Ivar cherishes the trust you two share - he’d never think of doing something to break it.

Sharing.

Even though, when possessive or jealous, Ivar sometimes talks about showing off how well he pleases you, it is all talk. He’d never consider someone intruding in such a vulnerable situation. Besides, you’re for his eyes only.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

"I can show you that there are other ways to please a woman too, if you so wish."

Ivar remembers you whispering those words against his lips the first time you were intimate together, gently reassuring him. After the first few times following that day, when his eagerness to feel your walls wrapped around his cock as fast as possible had slowly calmed from a raging fire to a steady flame, those words of yours kept echoing in his mind. You’d proposed it as an alternative, so technically there was no need for that now, but Ivars curiosity was peaked.

His breath is fanning over your lower stomach, Ivars blue eyes are looking up at you for guidance, between placing kisses on and nipping at your skin. 

"You told me you’d show me. I do not know how to make you feel good like this." A breathless laugh falls from your lips. "I promise to tell you if something does not feel good." 

Ivar huffs but relents nonetheless, his nips and kisses moving lower, a few of them straying to the inside of your thighs, before his tongue suddenly licks a broad stripe up your cunt. Something between a whimper and a moan tears from your throat and Ivar decides right then and there that he wants to hear that sound over and over and over again.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

As explained under I = Intimacy, Ivars love making is usually very passionate. If not fast, his thrusts will at the very least be hard and deep, hands firm on whichever part of your body he chooses to grab, his love bites just on that fine line between pleasure and pain.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn’t exactly opposed to the idea, it’s just that your circumstances don’t really allow for them. Between the daily bustle of Kattegat, your respective duties throughout the day and Ivars reluctance to have sex outside the safety of his chambers there aren’t really opportunities for quickies. 

It’s fine by the both of you though, you prefer to take your time anyways, especially the calm and intimacy afterwards is treasured by the both of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ivar is ever learning, he’s willing to try most everything you’d approach him with, so long as it doesn’t fall under his hard no’s. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

In the beginning Ivar was insatiable. Once he got you into bed you could expect not to leave it or go to sleep for quite a while. 

That is still the case, though the way you spend your time in bed has changed. The two of you used to go as many rounds as either of you could take until sleep took you.

As your relationship blossomed, it became less about sex itself and more about being intimately connected - whether that be foreplay, sex, or basking in the afterglow of it all. Rounds became fewer, but more drawn out. On the days Ivar seeks comfort, the intimacy of you laying on his chest afterwards, warming his cock, both of you speaking in hushed whispers have become his favorite part.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Since it’s the early 800s … there are no toys. The closest thing would be his daggers, perhaps some rope.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ivar has no patience to actually tease you in terms of withholding his physical affections. He excels at making your squirm with his verbal teasing though.

You’re circling your hips above him, eyes screwed shut, clearly focused on chasing your release, but slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure all the same. A sudden pressure makes you moan out and look down to where Ivar has placed his hand against the little bulge in your lower stomach. 

"Look at that", he grins, "Look at me all the way inside you. Such a little thing, can barely fit me." A frustrated whine bubbles up in you. Ivars face morphs into one of mock concern, "What’s the matter sweet thing?" "Please..", you whimper. "Please what, hm?" 

When his question goes unanswered, the rock of your hips only growing more frantic, Ivar sits up, the sudden shift of the angle of his cock making you gasp. "Can’t even make yourself cum, is that it? Poor, dumb little thing" A quick, filthy kiss is planted on your lips, and you don’t even have the time to reciprocate before your world spins and you’re suddenly on your back.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

"I don’t growl." Ivar halfheartedly glowers down at you, you grin in return. "Oh, you definitely do."

"I do not."

Your grin grows mischievous, "Mhm, fine. I do suppose it was far more interesting how you whimpered when I li-"

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You joined Ivar in his bed every single night, following the day you first laid together. After a while your monthly bleeding made its appearance one morning. You thought this would surely put a temporary stop to your shared nights of passion, but Ivar surprised you. 

As soon as you sit down on the edge of the bed you’re ambushed. Giggling you let Ivar lay you down on your back and eagerly welcome him into your arms once he dips down to kiss you.

As always the kiss deepens and your hands wander - yours to his hair, combing your fingers through his silky strands, whilst Ivars hands caress your sides. When his fingers slip under the hem of your dress, you draw back from the kiss and halt his hand on your thigh. Immediately Ivars face furrows and his hand lifts to hold the side of your face. 

"My moon blood started this morning", you answer his unspoken question. Ivars eyes widen and he props himself up on his hands, lifting his hips off of yours. For a second you think he’s disgusted, but your worries disappear as soon as they come. "Oh fuck - am I hurting you, smár brandr?"

Pulling his body down onto yours again, his weight and warmth actually comforting, you shake your head. "No", you reassure him, "I’m just bloody. Some women say release eases their discomfort, but it’s not exactly… appealing to most men."

To your surprise Ivar barks out a laugh. "Some Vikings we have in Kattegat then, hm? Bothered by a little blood." Shaking his head, his hand makes his way under your dress once more.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

To quote TPAW:

"Looking down at what you have just undressed, you are surprised a second time this night. For all the burdens the Gods have made Ivar carry, they sure have blessed him with a gorgeous cock. Its head is flushed a lovely shade of red, and with a length and girth that promises a delicious stretch once inside you, it was simply perfect … and hard - very much so."

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. That’s all I am going to say. Sometimes the gods can see it all the way from Asgard.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’re usually asleep before Ivar is. He very much treasures just laying with you. Tracing shapes on your back, enjoying the warmth of your body next to his and watching your pleased face lowly morph into the relaxed expression he associates with you sleeping.. this is probably the most peaceful time of his day. 

Please consider commenting or reblogging - it really makes my day!

(*) smár brandr = little blade

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Ivar Ending: Vikings - Una Flor

Summary: It began with flowers, but it bloomed into something more

Pairing: Ivar x Reader (romantic)

A/N: It has been such a long time since I touched this series or even tried writing for fun. I feel rusty and not too confident, but it was nice to write after such a long time. A bit short, but I think it was decent.

Una Flor Series Masterlist

Ivar was seated rather comfortably on his throne, watching with keen eyes as his twin boys sparred harshly with one another; elbows into the gut and tackles into the ground as a circle of people cheered for either of the boys. It was an even match between the two, similar height, similar weight, and similar fighting prowess. The only discernible difference between them was the different shades of brown in their hair. 

It seemed that the sparring match would go on for quite some time, until the twin with lighter brown hair began to lose his footing and the other with dark hair was quick to use that moment for his advantage. 

Wrangling the other onto the ground and keeping him in a hold until the other tapped harshly to be released. The crowd cheered in delight before going back to their tables, the music started up again, and they drank from their horns of ale. 

Ivar smiled with pride and clapped slowly as his boys approached him with wide smiles. 

“What did you think, Papa?” Asked Erik the brother with lighter brown hair. 

“You both did quite well,” he said. “And I am proud that you have worked hard in your lessons, Erik and Alaric, but you will need to be more aware of your footwork. I cannot help in that, but I will bring it up to your mother for when she plans your next lesson.” 

After her first initial lessons from Bjorn, (Y/N) had continued training to become a skilled warrior and even after she married Ivar, she continued to train. She hadn't set aside her love of homemaking, but she had come to enjoy learning the new skills until eventually, the Ragnarssons all agreed that there was nothing they could teach her and it was just as well, because she had been the one to pass on their teachings to her twin boys.

“Speaking of mama, where is she? Wasn’t she beside you earlier when we started sparring earlier?” Asked Alaric, the brother with darker brown hair. 

“Behind you,” came the voice behind them. 

It was enough to startle all of them that they jumped in their place. 

“Mama! / (Y/N)!” They all cried out indignantly. 

She giggled as she handed their sons a bowl of stew each, “We will need to work on your awareness next time that we have lessons, but to answer the question, I simply stepped away to bring you food after your bout.” 

As if they were starved animals, the twins were quick to dig into their meal of a hearty stew and a fresh roll of bread. Sitting on the steps of their father's throne and gently leaning against him with care as they ate to their fill.

While the boys remained distracted, Ivar gave his wife a skeptical look.

"What else were you doing, wife?" Ivar asked. "You spent too much time to have brought the boys only a meal."

She smiled at him softly, tenderly cupping his cheek in her hand and pressing a kiss to his temple. At the same time that she placed a flower in his hair.

"Our flowers are finally in bloom, and I came to bring you the first one" she whispered.

Ivar flushed in embarrassment as he remembered his blunder all those years ago in his youth, but he was grateful for it all the same. It had started with flowers, but their love had certainly bloomed into something more.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hello there :) please could I request something for Vikings with a female reader if possible. Where the reader (a shieldmaiden) meets the ragnarssons for the first time after being taken in by Ragnar when her parents are killed, and they start developing feelings for her later on? 💙

Hey! Thought that making this into headcanons/preferences would be the best format, message me if you want a full work where I elaborate!🌺

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

Vikings preference: Falling for a shieldmaiden taken in by Ragnar

Bjorn A little rough around the edges, at first - you're a complete stranger, after all. Maybe he criticizes your posture one day and you're more than willing to make him prove his 'superiority'. Whether you win or lose is not as important as the sole fact that you were a challenge for him, although he might not outright admit that. Despite being a shieldmaiden and Bjorn having witnessed your abilities first-hand, he still perceives you as a woman first - the burden of upbringing, one might say. Because of that, he often tries to fight your battles for you, both on the battlefield and outside of it. Most of the time it's small things: bringing you this, giving you that. He definitely might come off as overbearing at times but there's no malice in his heart - Bjorn genuinely believes he's doing the right thing. The downside is that even your stern words might not knock off his habits (the two of you fought numerous times about his overprotective attitude). That protective side of him comes out especially strong during cold winter months when he needs to be extra sure that you're well-fed and warm. In his hot and cold attitude, you find irrefutable proof of his affection. After all, what else if not love could bring warmth and care out of a man known for his dauntlessness and reserved attitude? Bjorn puts his fondness into words in a very peculiar manner: suggesting your possible gains. In other terms, he hints at all the goods you'd have and the shortages you wouldn't suffer if he could have your hand. See that pile of wood that's going to last you for at least a month? Or the furs on your bed that are just enough to stay warm on a freezing winter night? Without half-truths and subtext, Bjorn assures you that he could provide you so much more. Although 'could' should be read as 'wants to' - a desire he's determined to fulfil only if you agree to be his.

Ubbe The one who actually talks to you first, with no expectations or prejudice. Even if he did have those, he's capable of looking past them and making a fair judgement only after getting to know you. At first he's a little uncomfortable with the situation and your person because you're kind of like a sister but not really? That apprehension doesn't last long, however: he's a little too smitten with you. To his own surprise, your presence makes the long absence of his father a little easier to bear - Ragnar didn't leave on a whim, he had a reason to do so and it was a good reason. If the other Ragnarsons treat you with malice, thinking of you as the sole reason they had to grow up fatherless, Ubbe is always ready to step in and de-escalate the situation. In some way, he's similar to Bjorn in expressing his affection in the sense of being protective. Ubbe perceives you as a woman, a woman he loves to be exact, and only then a warrior, despite getting a taste of your skills on his own. Just like his half-brother, he'd try to do things for you, deal with the mundane burdens of everyday life; he only cares about you. The thing that sets them apart is Ubbe's willingness to stand back - once he knows you can stand your ground, he lets go a little, although reluctantly. Another thing is that he already acts like your husband despite being yet to earn that title: always being in your vicinity, fighting any men who try to woo you, thinking ahead and gifting you anything you might need in the near future. Whenever his training alongside his brothers, Ubbe tends to tease them saying that you're better than them. Whether that is true or just brotherly spitefulness is yet to be determined. When the moment comes and Ubbe confesses his affections, he's very straight-forward, telling you how much you mean to him.

Hvitserk Curious and fascinated - you're pretty and courageous. Even if you end up rejecting him (a possibility he doesn't think is realistic), you seem like a great person to be around. He's friendly from day one. Keeps hinting at his romantic interest in you through smooth, sublime and yet unambiguous remarks, so there is no doubt about his intentions. In an attempt to spend more time with you, Hvitserk offered to join you in training. Clashing swords and breadth-of-hair ducks were not enough to stop his flirting (you had this growing suspicion that he's also unnecessarily touchy - not that you were one to complain). The only difference from his daily sweet talk was that with a sword in his hand, Hvitserk's words became vividly more explicit. Some of them caught you off guard but once the surprise washed away, you realized you had nothing against those generous offers becoming true. Even if his brothers are also interested in you, he doesn't see them as a competition or a threat of any sort. His approach wouldn't be a surprise to anyone who had even once seen you two together - there was no chance any other Ragnarson could sweep you off your feet. Truth be told, you knew Hvitserk's feelings before he told you, although it should be clarified that he didn't explicitly confess his affections: during a quite intimate moment, in bed and under furs, he suddenly asked you to marry him. Relationship-wise, out of all the Ragnarsons Hvitserk is the one to treat you the most equally to him.

Sigurd Begins to be interested in you simply because his brothers were. Then he noticed your ambivalence towards Ivar and how much it was pissing the youngest brother off and Sigurd was instantly on board - he might yet find an ally in you. Out of the Ragnarssons, he is the most invisible brother and so he didn't quite expect to pique your interest. To his surprise, you're the one to accost him, asking about living in Kattegat and the family reputation he has to hold up. Not to mention all the prince's responsibilities he has to suffer. From your own words, Sigurd learned that, just like him, you're not one for big crowds and front rows, preferring to stray from the eye of the storm that so often seemed to emerge around Ragnar and his sons. He finally found someone who understood his perspective and not only that - they shared it. The two of you are often disappearing somewhere together and the general population of Kattegat quite quickly catches on but you and Sigurd care little about those rumours. Definitely spent hours upon hours coming up with a wax poetic ballad about you. He put himself in one of the verses describing his growing fondness for you. Luckily for him, he won't have to change the verse about the shieldmaiden loving some guy named Sigurd back.

Ivar Acts like he doesn't care and tries to make himself believe that mainly because deep inside he had immediately dismissed the possibility of you being interested in him. You've heard stories of course but a certain degree of scepticism is a trait of a good warrior - it keeps you level-headed. Once when you were sitting on the pier, enjoying a moment of solitude, Ivar approached you only to ask about his father. After all, you'd spent more time with Ragnar than he did, even if he wasn't your actual parent. While sharing stories about the famous Ragnar Lothbrok, Ivar noticed that you're neither apprehensive nor fearful of him. In a way, it upsets him - he found himself in a situation where he doesn't have the upper hand. But this surprising and wholly unwelcome vulnerability didn't backfire. Truthfully, the longer you talked about the legend of Ragnar Lothbrok, the more Ivar wished you would stop talking about his father and simply talk about yourself. Except for his parents, you were the only person whose presence he didn't completely detest and Ivar was yet to make an opinion on how that made him feel. He definitely hates seeing you interact with his brothers as he naively thought that he was the only recipient of your sympathies and it's exactly that lack of exclusivity that makes him go out on a limb and make less-than-ambiguous remarks that you happily reciprocate. Sometimes, when he can't sleep at night, Ivar climbs onto his father's throne and dwells on various fantasies of glory and bloodshed. In those dreams, there's always a place for you - a brave and beautiful shieldmaiden that rides into battle by his side and gives birth to his children, who go on to become kings, emperors and conquerors.

[lavender-romancer]

Winter

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader 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

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

You were drifting apart more and more with every hastily made decision fueled by anger that Ivar made. He would curse you, berate you and you could do anything because you didn't trust that he wouldn't kill you himself. You knew something was deathly wrong when you kept finding yourself high on a hill looking over a rock face, moving closer to the edge every time and not feeling afraid. It was impossible to not feel that you were lost in the dark of Ivar's tyranny. But you still craved his adoration, his love and the affirmation that he only wanted you. All of these things would never happen now, you weren't good enough for him.

You needed him running through your veins like a sickness that couldn't be cured- a toxicity that fuelled your love and in turn, your hatred for him. You didn't want to need anyone, when you were younger your mother had always taught you to never need anyone more than yourself. To stay self-reliant and not let anyone control you but, it was impossible. When you met Ivar he was the son of Ragnar, a grumpy boy with no battle experience and a soft spot for you. Now, after 6 years of marriage you couldn't decide if you needed to try harder or just throw yourself on to that cliff face.

"It feels like he's trying to erase me, fade me out of his life and forget I was ever there." You told Helga as you sat descaling some fish with her.

"Ivar is… complicated, I'm sure I had this conversation with you when you started seeing him. He's a different type of person from us. Not as emotional," she tried to smile but could tell that her words weren't necessarily comforting.

"I was so convinced that he loved me then, that he would do anything for me. But he just wants power and money and meaningless sex, I just can't believe he deceived me into this marriage." Helga suddenly gripped your hand.

"This is not your fault. As you said, you were deceived by someone who claimed to love you. The boy has some kind of power. It pulls some people in and I don't know what it is but it captured you," She paused. "I think you should tell him."

"He wouldn't even see me, I can guarantee there's a thrall rooted to his lap right now." You clenched your teeth together and tried to hold in your rage.

"You need to let it out, your rage. Go to the top of a mountain and scream, allow yourself to feel it." Helga suggested and you nodded.

"What I really want is to have him, it's pathetic but I'm so in love with him it's hard to overcome." You placed down the fish and groaned.

"It will pass, and if it doesn't, meet someone else who will be more emotionally attentive. Ivar seems like the kind of man who needs other people's feelings laid out in front of him." Helga smiled and her dark rimmed eyes made contact with you as the two of you carried on with the fish.

Ivar was drunk out of his mind, two naked thralls sitting on his lap as he'd occasionally take their breasts into his mouth. Some days he would forget you were even his wife, you hardly saw each other. He wouldn't say it was an excuse for his behavior but it was definitely a promoting factor of it. You used to smother him, cover him in a blanket of affection and make him feel like no one could hurt him. Ivar didn't remember when that stopped but he also didn't remember when he began sleeping with other women. The crossover between the two was so seamless it made him feel less remorseful, as if your absence made his actions warranted.

When Ivar saw you walk into the Great hall he felt less than he thought he would. In some ways he was happy to see how miserable you looked, hopeful you'd come crawling back to him in pure adoration. Ivar couldn't think of a better way to gain a woman's affection than by making her jealous. Unaware of his ridiculous thought process, Ivar continued looking you up and down through his eyebrows. You could only glare back at him as you headed towards your room, but you annoyingly had to go past Ivar.

"You despise me, wife?" Ivar asked and you stopped in your tracks, sighing deeply.

"Yes." You said simply, even though you loved him you needed him to wake up.

"But… that's not. What?" He said confused, pushing the thralls to the floor, with a resounding yelp from both the women.

"What do you want, Ivar?" You looked at him with such disdain it genuinely surprised him.

"You cannot speak to me like that!" He yelled and you sighed again.

"Then kill me." You sounded defeated, you didn't care anymore. It would be easier for it to all be over so you didn't have to deal with the emotional turmoil of him.

"I'm not going-" he paused. "You are my wife! Why won't you respect me?" He yelled again and you almost winced at the level of noise he was making.

For a few moments all you could hear was the scrape of his crutch and the crackle of the fire, for a moment it felt surprisingly peaceful. You just wanted to exist in that scene, a beautiful fire with furs on the floor in front of it where the local children would sit and be told stories. There was such a serenity to watching children's faces as they listened to a story, they hadn't experienced the hurt or the pain. All they knew was that this was their favourite day because they could sit inside the great hall and feel important. Even Ivar couldn't take that sense of pride away from them.

"Are you going to say anything, wife?" Ivar broke the blissful silence and you couldn't quite believe how aggravating it all was.

"I hate you, I hate what you've done to me." Was all you said and he looked astonished.

"I won't have this bullshit!" He yelled even louder before calling for his guards. "Tie her to a tree in the forest." He swatted you away like you were a pest but, at this point you saw no reason to resist. Ivar would do whatever he wanted with his power and most of the time that would mean fucking you around.

Even the guards were uncomfortable as they threw a rope over a strong tree branch and tied you by your wrists so that your arms always had to be extended. It wasn't the worst punishment you could have got, you were surprised Ivar hadn't got a lust for blood when you disrespected him. He would continue to degrade you and debase you no matter what you did, even though you loved him it didn't matter anymore. Ivar was so consumed by greed or power or hatred for you that he couldn't focus on anything else.

Your heart felt cold and tight. There wasn't any room for any more love because you had given it all away to someone who didn't want it or didn't realise how much he needed it. In one breath you would hope that he would just come and kill you and in the other, you still hoped he would wait for you. That he would allow your coupling to at least attempt to survive. Sometimes when you were around Ivar, you would feel a tiny part of your body decompose. One part of you died because you couldn't hold on to someone who only wanted to break away from you. But all you wanted was to be taken back to when you were younger, you needed him, you wanted him and he would never be what he was again.

[woahhhgwendolyn]

Bjorn Flirting With You Would Include...

-He can sometimes be very cheesy when it comes to flirting with you. But it is oddly adorable when he does.

-When he flirts, he likes to comment on what you look like or your personality traits.

-He sometimes does not know how to flirt with you as well. He finds it hard to be able to flirt with you.

-But he tries his best no matter what. Because he always wants to please you.

-He often loves to say to you how beautiful you look or even how good you smell.

-He loves also putting your hair behind your ears while looking deeply into your eyes.

-He definitely finds ways to be romantic while also being flirtatious with you.

[collecting-stories]

Willow - Ivar the Boneless

Summary: Feast night in Kattegat, some pretty shameless flirting.

A/N: I haven't written vikings in forever but part of this was in my drafts from like, last year and I finally finished it this morning.

TS Anthology Masterlist | Vikings Masterlist

✰ wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark ✰

The lanterns that lined the path from the village to the fjord were lit, glowing a warm orange beneath the ever darkening sky. There were soft sounds of a lyre playing somewhere just beyond your line of sight, settling a trance over the whole of the village as you made your way through smaller parties that gathered outside of the great hall, enchanted by the warm night. Feast nights were always your favorite, less of a formality than a festival or a celebration, you weren't so watched on a feast night as you were other times. 

"Have you come to join the dancing?"

Still, there were some whose gaze you never quite seemed to escape. As you addressed the rustling of bushes near your knees, you peered down in the dim light to find Ivar, stakes dug into the ground as he frowned up at you, obviously not amused by the playful teasing. 

"Perhaps someone could string me up like those nonsensical dolls they bring to market, wouldn't you enjoy that?" He retorted, thinking of the countless times he'd requested his mother have the man with the marionettes killed. Or punished violently, he wasn't picky. 

You bent your knees, squatting down so your butt hovered over the grass, reaching a hand out to stroke Ivar's cheek. He leaned his face into your touch, turning his head just so to brush his lips to your open palm.

"You think I am making fun of you? You forget then, I have felt the way you move against me when we are beneath the furs on your bed my love, there is no dance I long for more." You replied. 

Ivar huffed, tilting his head down just enough to nip at your exposed wrist, "now I know you are playing with me." He replied, "I should have you strung up like that marionettes."

When you smiled he couldn't deny the triumphant feeling that gripped his heart, as if some unknown force was saying 'look, you who is so plagued by hideous feelings and darkness, you have made the sun shine in the dead of night'. 

"You would enjoy that." You repeated his words back to him, a statement this time and not a question. 

Carefully, so that you didn't fall over completely, you stood back up, brushing your hands down the front of your clothing. Ivar watched you as the doors to the great hall sung open and more people filed out, shouting and laughing with each other. The lights inside the building and the ruckus had drawn your attention for a split second but then your gaze was back on Ivar, the soft light of the lanterns shining on his face and illuminating his blue eyes. 

"Shall we take our leave?" You asked, sounding somewhat conspiratorial as you watched him. 

Despite the informality of the feast, you were certain your parents would notice if you were gone for too long or if you left early. They'd been careful with you ever since you'd come of age, cautious of who took an interest in their youngest child. Though they knew better than to speak out of turn about the disabled son of Ragnar Lothbrok, you could see, and so could most everyone else, that he was not who they wanted you to spend time with. Ivar knew, certainly. He'd seen the disdainful looks but it rarely deterred him. Ivar had always been someone who got exactly what he wanted, whether through temper tantrums, deceit, manipulation, or someone's misguided pity. Still, he looked almost surprised at the suggestion, though it only showed for a split second before he was schooling his expression to a neutral one. 

"I thought feast nights were your favorite? Don't you want to celebrate all who have returned from raiding?" He asked, shifting his weight so he could look up at you with more ease.

"Of course I want to," you replied, ignoring the first of his questions, "but I don't think I need anyone in there watching me celebrate your safe return."

Ivar's face flushed up to his ears and you smiled in satisfaction. "You are worse than Loki with your tricks." 

"What tricks?" You asked, sitting this time, your legs crossed in front of you and knees brushing against his hands. You leaned forward, your face as close to Ivar's as you could be without touching him, "don't you want to celebrate?" 

"What would your father say, hm?" Ivar hummed, secretly thrilled when your hand found its place cradling his face again, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. 

"Are you really more interested in discussing my father?" You asked, "when I am famished and have been waiting since the ships first crested the horizon to feast?"

"Were you not just in the great hall?" Ivar questioned, squinting in the dim lantern light so that he could appraise your words. 

"I was. You weren't though and I have been eager to sink my teeth into you," you teased, snapping playfully at him. 

The flush was back on Ivar's cheeks tenfold, flustered by the very suggestion that you wanted to be with him. It wasn't the first time you and he had laid together. Thank god for that, Ivar thought briefly as you stood again, stepping off the path and back toward the bushes that Ivar had come out of before. 

Your first time together had been awkward and slightly painful and he had been embarrassed for some weeks afterward that you would be hesitant to speak to him again, let alone allow him in your bed. Some goddess had blinded you with love or lust or adoration though because you seemed so taken with him from then on that you often sought him out, much to his own excitement. Ivar was just as adoring and in love as you were, if not more. While it was more than true that he got exactly what he wanted all the time, it was always better when he was wanted back. 

"Are you coming?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at him. 

"Yes. You'll notice it is a bit more difficult to turn around when you're unable to stand up." He grumbled, digging his stakes into the ground as he shifted himself around to follow you. 

"Perhaps, but I do so enjoy watching you."

"Humorous is it?" Ivar snapped, missing the way you smiled at his sour disposition. 

"Not the word I would use," you replied. "Is a snake in the grass humorous? Or is it beautiful? Dangerous? Exciting?" 

"I am a snake now?"

"Oh, most assuredly my love, you are full of venom. Though, I would gladly let you bite me." You teased, watching him as he caught up with you. 

"You have not let me yet," he replied, looking far more sour at that remark than at anything else you'd said all night.

"Patience."

He huffed, "I have endured a treacherous ocean, armies of men, illness, injury, near death...and you tell me to have patience?"

"Just for a simple kiss." You replied, as if it was nothing to him, "you have brought riches back with you...surely that means more than a simple kiss."

Ivar tugged your ankle as you stepped closer to him, knocking your legs out from under you and watching with satisfaction as you fell to the ground. 

"Ivar!" You laughed, uninjured and no less enamored with him than you had been before. He smiled, devious grin lighting up his features in the dark as he crawled over you, staking the ground over your sleeve so that you couldn't move away from him. "What are you doing?"

"I have no patience," he replied, "I shall have my feast here."

[fangirlings-things]

The reactions of your brothers to you dying in battle headcanons

anon said: Hello may i request a ragnarssons reaction where the little sister dies in battle, a whole cup of sad pls :D (a continuation of the lil sis reaction with the boys where you choose to fight against them)

A/N: hope you enjoy this, love! sorry it took so long 💛

TAG LIST: @maggiescarborough ; @charmingvalkyrie ; @flowers-in-your-hayr

THIS IS A PART TWO TO THESE HEADCANONS

→ Bjorn Ironside

He could not believe it when it happened

He saw from afar, when the warrior on his army made the final blow and sent you to Valhalla

He screamed, and everything else had no matter as all he thought about was to get you

He did reach you and seeing all that blood, your blood, made rage fill the whole of him

Bjorn regretted so much his last words to you, having said awful things when you had exposed your intentions of fighting against him

Now, he had no means of telling you just how much he loved you and was proud of the shield maiden you had become

For the first time in his life, he took no joy in having won a battle

→ Ubbe

Ubbe is in complete shock

He heard you scream and turned to see you on your back on the grass, blood all around you and an arrow coming out of your chest

He dropped on his knees by your side and held your hand tightly as with widened eyes, feeling despair, he tried to figure out what he could do, anything at all, as he watched you drown in your own blood

You forced him a smile as you died and that was it, you had gone to Valhalla and a corner of his mind wished he could follow you already

Living the rest of his life without his little sibling did not seem fair, and he blamed the Gods for it, like he had never before

It was a horrific day and he would never forget it. Everytime he closed his eyes, that moment would come back to him and he would feel that insistent pain on his chest, like he had been the one struck by an arrow, not you

In a way, he died with you on that same day. A part of him sure had

→ Hvitserk

After you had crossed paths in the battlefield and turned away from one another, Hvitserk thought that would be it, that however won, either way you would both still be alright

But when he was stumbling out of that field after the battle was done, his side having won, he stumbled upon your body

And Hvitserk found himself like he had before many times in his life

In denial

He could not react. Could not cry or scream, nothing. He just stared at your lifeless body, your shield broken beside you and a deep wound on your stomach

He walked away in silence, said nothing to no one. Just stood there in the middle of the other victorious warriors like a ghost

Only at night, so far away from everyone else that he could almost hear the troubled thoughts of his troubled mind, he cried

→ Sigurd Snake in the Eye

Even though he had told himself he would do what he had to, when it came to that he could not

Meeting you on the battlefield made him paralyzed and Sigurd found himself without any idea of what to do

You parted ways though, and it was sure in his mind that he would have the victory, but afterwards you would make peace with each other and move pass by it, as siblings would often do

But you did not prevail, and Sigurd did not believe it when he heard such news

He asked to see your body, but the other warriors told him it was impossible, the dead were already being pilled up and taken away. He would never see your face again

Sigurd felt shame, regret and sadness

He wished he had talked you out of that, that he had convinced you to fight with him after all

He had the victory, but he felt like he had failed deeply

→ Ivar the Boneless

He had threatened you when you had said you would fight against him, but as much of what he said when consumed by anger, Ivar did not really mean that

Seeing you be fatally wounded in the middle of the battle made him scream out in pure rage as he rushed to get to you

He killed the warrior who gave you that death sentence, wihout even thinking twice about the fact that thry were fighting on the same side

He pulled you closed to him, cried and sobbed, begging you to not leave him

You had always been close, and you never had thought less of him because of his legs. He loved you deeply for it

Even though you were the one dying, it was you comforted him, and said that you would be waiting for him in Valhalla, feasting with the Gods and your father, Ragnar

When you died, he went back to battle, heart filled with anger and pure hatred in his eyes

He wanted blood, and he would have it

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19

An update in less than a month? What is this?

This is the long anticipated update and I'm so excited to share it with you. Please let me know what you guys think!

Words: 5500

Warnings: All the feels! brief violence, language, just grab some tissues.

Series Masterlist

Ivar loathed all hospitals with an unholy passion. Far too much of his childhood was spent surrounded by sterile white walls and people in scrubs giving him pitying looks that boiled his blood. He hated the continuous beeping sounds, that unnatural sterile scent, even the loud-ass flooring that made each step sound like a heavy weight being dropped.  He despised everything about hospitals. 

But none of that crossed his mind as he stormed into the main lobby of one with the force of an unrelenting tornado. 

He slammed his hand down on the counter, feeling his bones rattle and threaten to break but he ignored the pain. He already had one hand in a cast, why not the other? 

“Where is Kari Larsen?” He demanded of the two nurses behind the counter. 

Neither nurse berated him of how he cut in line, bypassing the four other people, to demand their attention. A fucking miracle. As he stood there, waves of anger and desperation crashing over him, he wondered if they could see it and it kept their mouths shut. Was it so obvious how his edges were fraying? How what sanity he possessed was beginning to crumble until he knew - he could see - that Kari was alive. 

One of them glanced over his shoulder, at his father and brother flanking him, and waved him closer. “Give me a moment and I'll check.”

The desire to scream at her to ‘hurry the fuck up’, ‘didn't she know who he was’, and how he wanted to ‘burn this entire building to the ground’ stung the back of his throat. But none of that passed his lips. For immobilizing terror gripped at his heart with claws sunk in deep, making that blackened organ threaten to stutter to a stop. How his lungs ached as if petrifying within his chest causing each breath to be a struggle to take in. 

He had promised her. 

He fucking PROMISED! 

Uncaring of his hardened reputation, of never showing pain, he dropped his head in his hands, the cast rubbing against his cheek. He tried to take a deep breath, but the panic and self-loathing continued to crush his chest like a Medieval torture device. He just needed to know…he needed to see her. 

Please…

The nurse's ‘customer' voice broke through his internal panic. “Miss Larsen is still in the emergency room but has been moved to a separate room for examination.”

Ivar moved before the nurse fully finished her sentence. Ignoring all those around him, he stormed through that hospital with only one destination in mind. At this point, he almost wished someone would try to stop him so he could hit someone, just do something instead of feeling like he was falling apart. Anger, he knew. Anger, he could work with. But not this terror, not this panic that was draining his sanity and attempting to suffocate him. 

Perhaps, it was the scowl on his face that made people jump out of his way, the aura of danger that radiated off of him, or how he was flanked by his father and brother. With only a few concerned stares from nurses or those that worked there, he guessed they recognized him and his family. He had visited this godforsaken place enough times. Besides, he was a Lothbrok. 

And Lothbroks owned this city. 

Hvitserk raced ahead to open the doors leading into the emergency area, separate from the main hospital. They passed through without incident, into the chaos and mayhem. Sounds of a baby screaming, raised voices, the tang of blood and antiseptic cleaner, it all assaulted his senses but it barely phased him. There was only one thing he cared about right now. 

Marching up to the large desk, he stopped, glaring at the first nurse he came across. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, with a ‘don't give a fuck anymore’ look as she typed away on the computer. 

Too bad she had met her match today. 

“Kari Larsen. Where is she?” He gritted through his teeth. 

The older nurse sighed, looking up at him. “Young man, you need to wait–”

“WHERE IS SHE??!”

Silence echoed in the room. The sudden lack of sound felt like a black hole that suddenly exploded to destroy them all. All eyes turned to the trio at the front desk.

His father put a hand on Ivar's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Most likely intervening before Ivar jumped over the counter and repeatedly stabbed the ugly bitch with that damn pen she kept clicking. 

“We received a call from this hospital that Kari Larsen was here. We've come to check on her and I am personally paying for any treatment she receives while here.”

“Fine. Your name, sir?”

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” He smirked lazily. “My information is on file. Send the bill to Mr Weber, the CFO. He knows how to contact me with any further questions.”

The five other nurses behind the desk all stared, one or two having paled at the name of Lothbrok spoken. The older nurse before them began to stutter out a response, her eyes having widened and mouth dropped open, like an wrinkly goldfish. 

“Now, you will answer my son's question.” His father's voice hardened in displeasure. “In which room is Kari Larsen?”

“I…um…” One of the nurses stumbled out, clasping a blue patient folder to her chest like it was some shield to protect her from the Lothbrok's wrath. “I brought her for a CT scan…just…fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”

“Excellent, now–” Ragnar started to say but a rasped cry yanked the youngest Lothbrok's attention away. 

“Ivar!”

He spun on his heel, facing the hallway just behind him and slightly to his right. All his fear, panic, anger, self-loathing- it all bubbled up to spectacularly erupt as he heard that voice call his name. Her voice! A voice even after three weeks without hearing its sound, he immediately knew. The voice his soul cried out for. 

And there she was. 

Beautiful…

Perfect…

….with dried blood on the side of her head and splattered on her sweater. 

“Kari!” As quickly as his crippled legs could go, he bolted towards her. 

At his responding cry, she broke away from the nurse walking next to her. The damn nurse tried to grab her, but Kari shook her hand off and began running. 

Running to him! 

With tears running down her cheeks. 

She slammed into him, almost knocking them over with her momentum. Ivar stumbled back a couple steps, barely catching his footing, but he did not care. She was in his arms. Where she should be. Where she was meant to be. Finally. 

As soon as she was enclosed in his arms, face pressed against his chest and hands fisting the front of his shirt, she began sobbing earnestly. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her as physically possible against himself as her whole body shook with each ragged sob. 

Hearing her, he wished he could carve his chest open and allow her to crawl in. Fuck, he would do anything to take her pain, to have her even closer, to prove he was never letting her go again. 

That he would always protect her. 

“I've got you, Kari. I'm here.” The words flowed from him like an anguished prayer. “I'm here, sweet Kari. I'm not going anywhere.”

The scent of blood clung to her but he ignored it for the moment. She was here in his arms. Alive and well. 

That was all that mattered. 

He could have stood there for all eternity, the world continuing to spin and empires rising and falling without an ounce of care from him. None of it mattered. Three weeks he had been in turmoil and despair, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign from her. Anything to prove she still cared about him, still wanted him. That he had not completely fucked up the best thing in his life with a stupid mistake. He planned on planting roots right here on the dirty hospital floor for as long as Kari needed him. The fucking nurses and other patients could move around his crippled ass. 

His father had other plans though. 

A tap on his shoulder had Ivar looking up into his father's face, a subtle look of relief there.  “There's a room for her. Let's move her there.”

He gave a brief nod. With the movement, he became aware of the moisture on his face. When had he started crying? He had been so absorbed in finally - finally! - seeing his kitten, in holding her and providing any kind of comfort she needed, he had not realized his own roiling emotions had exploded out in tears of relief and gratitude, that he was practically bleeding out his stress and harbored despair. And for one of the first times in his life, he did not care if others saw his tears. 

Somehow he coaxed Kari along as he followed his father. A strange dance as they moved since she seemed to have no inclination of letting him go. Not that he objected in any way. It was in moments like this he cursed his legs, for if he was whole-bodied he could have picked Kari up and carried her. Instead, with an arm tight around her shoulders and her pressed against his side, refusing to release her vice-like grip on his shirt, they slowly moved. 

The ‘room’ they were directed to was just a curtained off section with a single bed, single chair and some monitors pressed against the wall behind the bed. Similar to the many other sectioned off ‘rooms’ of patients waiting to be moved on or sent home. 

Carefully, Ivar maneuvered Kari and himself to sit on the hospital bed. She curled against him, her ear against his heart and one hand toying with his Mjölnir necklace. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His other hand's fingers were intertwined with hers in his lap. 

Like sentinels, his father sat in the chair, sharp gaze shifting from the closed curtain to his youngest son, while his brother took up position next to their father, arms crossed over his chest. The two began whispering but Ivar only briefly noted their presence.

His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something. 

“What was that, kattungen?”

“You came.” She breathed, her voice raspy and shaky as if holding back more tears. “I gave them your number. I–I wasn't sure if you'd come. I just...I was scared and wanted you.”

How was it possible with such a simple statement, it completely disarmed him. His heart lurched at hearing the undercurrent of fear in her voice, sounding like a child admitting they were scared of the dark. What was worse, what broke his heart, was her fear that he would not come. That he would abandon her. 

He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a slow syrup-like kiss, hoping his actions and words would penetrate through her worry. “I'll always come for you.”

“Please don't leave.”

He tipped his head up for a moment, a useless act to try and stop the fresh wave of tears from flowing freely down his cheeks. “I promise.” His voice broke as he answered. “I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She sobbed out, clinging to him even tighter if possible. 

“Shhh…it's okay. Let's focus on getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, a faint thing, but he felt it for how tightly she was pressed against him. 

A couple minutes later, a doctor stepped behind the curtain, joining the crowded space. He paused a moment, seeing to register the group along with his patient. He cleared his throat loudly before glancing down at the folder in hand. 

“Good day, I'm Doctor Schultz, the attending doctor here today. Miss Larsen?” The doctor paused, eyes focused on his patient. 

When she did not respond, Ivar squeezed her hand. “It's okay, søte Kari, I'm here.”

“Yes, doctor?” She quietly, hesitantly, said. 

“How are you feeling?”

With that fucking stupid question, Ivar wanted to punch the absolute, incompetent asshole of a doctor but settled for glaring at him over Kari's head. 

“I've been better.” She replied. 

The doctor smiled. “I'm sure. The good news is your scans came back clean. You do not appear to have any cranial or brain damage more than a concussion.” He hesitated, as if rolling around a question in his mind before carefully allowing it out. “Is there anywhere else that hurts? My understanding is the paramedics said you were initially screaming when they arrived on scene.”

“Doctor, can you explain what occurred? We were not told about the incident beyond the fact that she was being attended to at this hospital.” Ragnar broke in, his voice broking no argument that his question would be answered first. 

“Of course. Miss Larsen and a companion were involved in a car accident. It appears another driver was not paying attention and drove through a red light, impacting their vehicle.”

A car accident.  

A goddamn car accident. 

Inhaling sharply, Ivar felt the air stick to his lungs like glue. Mentally he thanked the gods, Fate and anyone listening for keeping Kari safe. The outcome could have been very different. 

“Is Erik okay?” The quiet query came from beside Ivar.  

“I'm not supposed to speak of other patients,” the doctor said but his face softened as he looked at Kari, “but I just saw him and he sustained more injuries than you. He likely will be walking out of here later today.”

“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten. 

“My neighbor. He was driving us to the grocery store.”

Erik. Fucking Erik. Ivar did not like the overly friendly neighbor, the twat was trying to encroach on HIS territory. Now hearing this, he hated the man even more. The accident may not have been entirely his fault, but Kari was injured and traumatized while in his presence. That was unforgivable. 

“Miss Larsen, is there anywhere that hurts? You were fairly nonverbal when you arrived.”

“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”

“May I take a look?”

Ivar loathed to separate from her, but he removed his arm from behind her so the doctor would examine her. Damn, if he was going to move though. Plus with the way Kari did not release his hand, he doubted she wanted him further away. 

The doctor opened his mouth, but at the look that promised death on Ivar's face, he wisely did not ask Ivar to move. 

“Hmm.” The doctor hummed as he looked at Kari's neck and ran a hand along the slender column. Gently, he tugged the neckline of her sweater to see better after touching it and asking if his touch caused pain.  

Ivar gritted his teeth, as he glared with disdain at the invasive doctor. He was ready to intervene any moment the doctor went too far in his opinion but a purposeful squeeze from Kari's hand brought him back down. To distract them both, he brought their entwined fingers to his mouth. Teasingly, he kissed each of her knuckles as he held eye contact and gave a cheeky wink. His heart soared as a faint blush warmed her cheeks and a small, shy smile turned the corners of her lips up.

“Well, Miss Larsen,” the doctor stepped back and scribbled on his chart, “I do not see anything too concerning. I suspect the pain is from whiplash and the seat belt tightening. I can already see some bruising beginning on your shoulder, which may worsen. Unless the pain dramatically increases, you will be fine. You will be sore for a few days. My suggestion is to take some over the counter pain meds and rest for the next several days. If the pain worsens, either in your body or your head, come back to the ER. Any increasing headaches, double vision, spots in your vision, fainting, anything along those lines, please return and we will check on your concussion again. Before I release you, do you have anywhere to stay that someone can watch over you?”

“She's staying with me.”

Both the doctor's and Kari's gazes swung back to him but he only stared resolute at the man that needed to hurry the fuck up. 

“Alright…Miss, are you agreeable to that?” 

She nodded silently. 

“Good. One final question, the paramedics were quite concerned about your hysterics. They made note that you only seemed to calm once they helped you out of the vehicle and even then you were silent and unresponsive for a period of time. Do you remember any of this?”

“Yes.” She croaked out, a violent shiver shaking her fragile form. 

“Can you explain what happened?”

“Is this fucking necessary?” Ivar seethed, curling his arm protectively around her and tugging her back into his side. 

“I would like to follow through with–”

Ragnar stood up, blue eyes hard as ice as he stared down the doctor. “Thank you for your time and follow through. If you can finalize the release paperwork, we will be on our way and allow you to move on with your many other patients.”

Bewildered gaze swinging to every person in the room, as if silently questioning Ragnar's subtle rebuke, the doctor sharply exhaled and stepped back to the closed curtain. “I will send a nurse in to provide the paperwork.”

With that the intrusive doctor swung open the curtain and strutted away. 

Once out of sight, Ivar mumbled, “thought he'd never fucking shut up.”

“Be nice.” Kari murmured without any heat in it, more as if it was a reflex. 

Ragnar stepped around the bed and began rustling through the small rolling cart beside the bed. He came back around with an antiseptic wipe. Ivar watched as his father ripped it open and then delicately wiped away the lingering blood on her temple and ear, with far more physical tenderness than he had ever shown his sons. Kari hissed at the initial contact but did not pull away, closing her eyes and slowly taking deep breaths. 

Once cleaned to his satisfaction, Ragnar tossed the wipe into the nearby bin. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as if steeling himself for something. Ivar glanced over at his brother, who just shrugged, his own gaze focused on their father. 

Ragnar crouched down, bringing himself eye level with Kari instead of standing over her like he had done. “Kari, do you want to leave?” He asked softly. 

What kind of dumbass question was that? Ivar opened his mouth to intervene but a cutting look from Ragnar had him almost biting through his tongue to keep quiet. 

“Yes.” She rasped back. 

“Mmm…” Ragnar nodded. “I need you to look at me, yeah? Good girl. Will you be comfortable riding in a car after this?”

Kari tensed and Ivar wanted to bash his own head against the nearest wall. Of fucking course! Why had he not thought of that yet? 

“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”

“No, Kari. Don't be sorry.” Ivar pressed his forehead to her uninjured temple. “We'll figure something out. It's not your fault.”

Ragnar spoke again, all soft edges and thoughtfulness. “Driving Ivar's car back would be the easiest and fastest. If you are uncomfortable with that, we can find an alternative mode of transportation or we can ask a nurse to mildly sedate you.”

With a tremor in her voice, she stated, “I can try. I think I can do it. Just…could you maybe drive slow?” 

Ivar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent encouragement, astounded by her quiet bravery. 

“I'm certain we can manage that.” Ragnar grunted, amusement in the quirk of his lips. “One last question.”

She nodded hesitantly. 

“I need to know, if while we are driving, will you start screaming?” 

This time she answered shakily. “No.”

“Do you recall why you were screaming at the accident?”

“Father.” Ivar growled, disliking this turn of questioning. 

“I need to know for our safety.” He returned his sharp gaze back to Kari, but did soften his voice.“Do you remember?”

“Memories.”

“Memories?” Ragnar repeated. 

She hummed. 

“Were you in a car accident recently?”

“No…”

“That's enough.” Ivar snarled, tugging her closer into his side, as her quivering began anew. Whether it was those memories or fear that caused her bodily reaction, he refused to let his father bully her into an answer. He had promised to protect her…even if it was from his father's interrogation. 

Icy blue eyes shifted from his youngest to the trembling, young woman in his arms before nodding and rising back to his feet. “I'll be back.” He swept out of the small room, the curtain fluttering closed behind him. 

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, just before pressing a hand to her mouth and releasing a shaky sob. 

Ivar held her close, sheltering her from her own turbulent emotions, as she tucked her face against him. Careful not to disturb her more, he wiped away the residue of tears from his cheeks with his right hand, mindful of his cast. 

At the feeling of being watched, he met his brother's eyes from across the small closet of a curtained room. His favorite brother had always been an open book, easy to read his emotions. Even now, the relief and concern for Kari was evident in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded slowly and deliberately toward the woman in his arms. Ivar nodded in reply. A silent conversation but Ivar knew what it meant. 

Whatever you need. I'll be there. 

Several minutes later, when Kari's quiet sobs transitioned to sniffles, a nurse arrived with a clipboard and release papers. She nervously asked the two men in the room to step outside so she could ask Kari some questions privately. Ivar's hackles immediately rose, a scathing retort on his tongue ready to unleash on the nurse but a squeeze of his hand made the words fade away. 

“I'm okay.” Those blue-green eyes held his, even though red rimmed and watery, he still thought they were one of his most favorite sights. “It'll only be a minute.”

“I'll be just on the other side of the curtain.” He promised, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Call out if you need me, kattungen.”

The subtle blush that arose on her cheeks drew a wicked smile to his lips. Before he could swoop in and kiss her, making them both forget the outside world, Kari lightly pushed on his chest. 

“Go.”

“As my priestess commands.”

Her quiet laughter followed him out of the room, lightening his darkened heart like an eternal candle. Hvitserk closed the curtain behind them, taking up a position mirroring his own, standing guard in front of the room. 

Other patients and nurses moved about the long hallway, some staring at the two brothers, but they were mostly ignored, the chaos and mayhem of the emergency room taking precedence.  

Ivar closed his eyes, rubbing a hand along his forehead to try and encourage the brewing headache to fuck off. 

“How are you holding up?”

He did not even open his eyes as he heard his brother's question. The exhaustion he had been fighting, dulled by the adrenaline from the phone call and finding Kari, now hit him like a semi truck. At this rate, it was debatable if he would actually be able to fall asleep or his body would crash into a coma, forcing him to rest. He just needed to get Kari to his house. If he could get the two of them there, then they could both rest and recover….and he could beg for her to never leave him again. 

He released a long sigh. “I need a cigarette.” 

“Want to step out? I'll stay with Kari.”

For a second, he considered it but ultimately shook his head. “I'm not leaving her.”

“What's your plan now? Sounds like you offered for her to stay with us.”

“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”

Hvitserk nudged him with his elbow. “You know it's not. Just…make sure that is what SHE wants.”

“I know.” Ivar ran his hand over his head. “I need her close by. After this…I need to know she's okay.”

“Well, with the way she wouldn't let you go, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Ivar chuckled quietly, warmth flooding his entire body at the reminder. He thought that perhaps she had forgiven him and they could move forward after this. Whatever that looked like, he would take. As long as she was by his side, he did not care what title it held. He just needed her. She was his morning sunrise, the stars in his night sky. Without her, his world was dark and filled with pain and anger. 

A new set of footsteps coming down the hallway had the brothers looking up. At the face that came into view, Ivar's fatigue drained away again. Fury pulsated like a second heartbeat in his chest, shooting its tendrils throughout his body like a living organism. 

Without a second thought, his feet moved. 

The nurse walking with the man seemed to take note of Ivar first and her face paled. She halted, eyes darting around as if searching for help, for someone to intervene. It was only then her patient took notice. 

But it was too late. It was time to pass the man's sentence and in this case, Ivar was judge, jury and executioner. 

He stormed up to the man, with rage a phantom above him and vengeance nipping at his heels. “You stay the fuck away from Kari. This is your fucking fault she's here!”

“No, the other driver–” Erik tried to defend himself but Ivar was beyond caring about excuses. 

Ivar shoved him. Hard.

Erik stumbled back and fell on his ass, unable to fully stop his fall with his right arm in the sling. A pained hiss slipped from his lips as his body jolted at hitting the floor. 

“Sir, you can't–” the nurse tried to step in but Ivar pointedly ignored her, his full attention at the man sprawled at his feet. 

“I don't give a fuck! You stay the fuck away from her!” 

He took a step back, his eyes, cold as stone, stared the man down as if daring him to say anything. He could see the scattering of cuts on Erik's face and body, most likely from the airbag, the arm sling, and the wrap around his knee. None of it phased the Lothbrok. He did not give a flying fuck about him or his injuries. Under Erik's watch, Kari had gotten hurt. Something that would NEVER happen again. 

Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Ivar turned to head back to his brother when he heard the resentful mutter behind his back. 

“Psycho asshole.”

He could feel the insult sink in and flow through every part of his body. His concern had been for Kari, with keeping her safe. But now, with that one utterance…the idiot had made this personal. 

Before Erik blinked, Ivar had whipped around and grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt. He hauled him up roughly to stare into his face. The youngest Lothbrok reveled in the shock and fear that coated the blond's face. People always forgot that he spent a good portion of his life crawling around when his legs were unusable due to surgeries or pain, which built up his upper body strength. Even now, he still enjoyed working out his upper body, being as strong as possible, proving he was more than his useless legs. 

“You want to say that to my face, you little fucker?” He sneered. “Huh?”

“IVAR!”

At the shout of his name, he looked over his shoulder. Hvitserk stood beside Kari, the latter with a hand over her mouth and beseeching eyes wide. A few paces in front of them stood his father, the one who called his name, poised ready to intervene and yank his son away. 

Without remorse, Ivar roughly let go of Erik. “Stay away from her, or I won't be so nice next time.” With the threat looming above them, he turned and headed back to his family…

…Back to his kitten and hopefully away from this fucking awful place. 

“Kari, you don't have to go with him!” 

Ivar froze. Again. 

“I–I can drive you home. I'll be discharged soon if you'll just…wait.”

The entire hall waited with baited breath. Only the sounds of the machines beeping could be heard. 

Yet his whole world had narrowed down to Kari. His eyes zeroed in on her, waiting, watching, for a sign, a subtle hint, instruction on what to do next. Did he go to her? Or was she terrified of him once again? Should he turn around and rip that little fucker's spine out of his body? As these questions whirled about like a chaotic storm, his feet remained firmly planted. 

Until her. 

Like a sunbeam breaking through the darkest storm, that was his Kari. 

His light. His life. 

With his name on her lips but no sound uttered, she held out her hand for him. Those stunning eyes focused on him, calling, summoning, drawing him in. 

And like a moth to the flame, he followed. But instead of death being at the source of light for him, there was the brightest joy and affection, belonging and loyalty. 

He reached out, taking her hand as he got closer and drew her back to his side. He planted a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Let's go home, kattungen.” 

Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik. 

They followed Hvitserk and Ragnar out to Ivar's car. Ragnar drove with his son in the passenger seat, and Ivar and Kari in the back. Kari was still tucked in his side, head on his shoulder and holding hands. 

As the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her body began to subtly shake. Ivar tugged her onto his lap and began softly speaking, trying to soothe her in his native tongue. Like a child, she tucked her face into his neck as if to hide from the world. Her hand gripped his with a death grip, but he paid no mind, encouraging and comforting however he could. 

About halfway through the drive, Kari finally spoke, her trembling having subsided. “Why do you have a cast?” 

He glanced down at the damn thing laying across her thighs. “Broke my hand.”

“How?”

“Boxing.”

“Hmmm…did you win?” 

He snorted, glancing at her, meeting her face with a small smile. “I always win.”

“Uh huh. Sure you do.” She rasped out, her voice sounding a little stronger but still rough. 

“Are you teasing me right now?”

She mock-gasped. “No one would dare tease you.”

He squeezed the top of her knee, making her squirm and squeak. “And you remember that.”

The conversation died out; silence reigned for a while. Ivar rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand as he rested his head on top of hers with eyes closed. Exhaustion crept back in once again, tugging his eyelids shut and numbing his mind. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, with Kari joining him, and lock his bedroom door so no one could bother them for at least three days. Maybe a week. 

“Oh no!” Kari gasped, abruptly sitting upright. 

Her sudden startle, sent a shockwave through him. He bolted upright, mind racing. “What?”

“All my groceries. They were in the back of Erik's car. I don't– I don't have money to buy more.”

He chuckled, tugging her back to lean against him. He could not believe she would panic over such a small thing. “Don't worry about it. I've got it.” 

“But, that's not–”

“Kari,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I'll take care of it. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She answered correctly but he could see - could sense - her hesitation, that wavering confidence. Something he needed to alleviate.

He released her chin to tenderly caress her cheek before guiding her forehead to press against his. “I'll take care of you.” He repeated, hoping his words would sink into her mind and plant there, for he meant every one. “Whatever you need. Groceries. New clothes. A car. I'll get it, you just tell me. Okay?” 

“You don't have to. It's not–”

“I want to.” He interrupted. “I want to take care of you. Don't you understand. I…I failed you but that won't happen again. Please, kitten. Please, just let me do this.” 

Time paused as he waited for her reply, for her agreement, for a sign. Anything! Forehead still pressed to his, she slowly breathed. Panic might have crept in to discourage him if he had not been able to feel her hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She was still so relaxed, so trusting, in his lap. He knew all he had to do was wait.

And so he waited for her. 

Like he promised he would. 

Finally, she quietly sighed out her response before slipping back against his chest and cuddling close. “Thank you, Ivar.”

A wave of gratitude and affection filled his soul. A dopey grin on his face, he tugged her closer and laid his head back on hers. 

“Anything for you, Kari.”

Tag List:

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

[ryuzakemo128]

Björn Ironside x reader : "I don't ask for your understanding, I don't ask for your trust either and quite frankly I do not want either one from you."

Please and thank you💙

I hope you like this and fits with what you might want.

Tarnished and Unveiled Intentions

Pairing: Bjorn Ironside x reader

Genre: Angst

Requested? Yes

Prompt: "I don't ask for your understanding, I don't ask for your trust either and quite frankly I do not want either one from you."

Content Warning: Possible mention of death, illness, disorders and disease. If any of these topics trigger or make you feel a certain way. I urge you to click off and preserve your mental health. As it's important to care for your mental health as well as your physical health.

You were unwell, bedridden for months, your fragile body refusing to move. Refused to obey. "[Y/N]" Bjorn said, his voice both harsh and commanding. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. It was as if he expected you to have told him about this before. As if he expected you to reveal everything to him when he wanted you to. Your lips curled into a snarl, a silent rebellion against him as your anger continued to boil beneath the surface, 'How can he assume he knows anything by demanding it when he wants it? You thought.

"I would have told you before, but I couldn't. I don't expect you to understand what I'm going through." You told him. Your voice was hoarse and strained. His entitlement, his entitled behaviour continued to annoy you. Even now.

You wanted to lash out, but your bones. Heavy as lead would not let you. You wanted to shout at him. But you couldn't find the words, they got caught on your tongue and stuck in your throat. The words between you and him remained unspoken.

His assumption that you would be fine this winter, that you would be able to go out there without any possible injury or illness. His presumption almost killed you, his presumptuous behaviour made you sick and injured. Sometimes almost dead.

His words, his tone, his expectations, his assumptions, they were all so disrespectful. He never once considered your feelings, your safety, your well-being. He treated you as if you were nothing more than a tool at his disposal, something to be taken for granted, something to be discarded when it no longer served his purpose. At least that was how you felt, and how you assumed he felt about you.

But that was not who you were. You were not just a servant or a housekeeper. You were a person with feelings, with a life of your own, with dreams and aspirations. And you deserved to be treated with respect and dignity. This relationship was a sinking ship, and you didn't want to stay on it. Not for another second, not for another day, and certainly not for the rest of your life. It was time to jump ship, to swim to safety, to find your way back to the shore where you belonged. You owed it to yourself. To your future.

"I don't ask for your understanding, I don't ask for your trust either and quite frankly I do not want either one from you." You said to him. A bitter taste remaining on the tip of your tongue.

He didn't protest, didn't argue and he just left you there. Alone. Both bedridden and close to death.

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[redskull199987]

Hey

Can you do a ragnar x reader x lagertha where she refuses their proposal to be with them bcs she thinks they are caos ( they are tbh)

Thank you

I absolutely love this one, it was so much fun to write. It's a little bit short though, I hope you don't mind:)

I walk alone

Ragnar x Lagertha x female!reader Request

Word count:0.7k

Warnings:none

Summary:Ragnar and Lagertha keep nagging you about marrying them, but even though you're in love with them, a marriage is something that you didn't even consider so far...

Masterlist

"We won't ask you again, Y/N", Lagertha mumbled. I felt how she traced the features of my face with her delicate fingers. Nevertheless, my eyes remained shut. I was not giving in.

"She's right", Ragnar agreed and I felt how his cold hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer to him.

"You guys are annoying", I answered and finally opened my eyes, "This question is getting tiring"

"What do you mean?", Lagertha asked, Irritationen in her voice.

I sighed and slowly started to get up, trying to get out of their embrace.

"It means, I won't marry you", I said, giving her a calming smile.

"Don't take it too personal", I explained while starting to get dressed.

"What do you mean, don't take it too personal?", Ragnar wondered. He sat up now too, eyeing my every movement.

I watched, as Lagertha propped herself up next to him, leaning on his shoulder, while Ragnar kissed her temple softly.

I smiled at the two. They were truly made for each other.

Only recently, I had joined their relationship and to say it was awesome, was an understatement. But still, I couldn't bring myself to agree to marry them. Not only were they already happy before me, but they were also absolute chaos. I have no idea, how these two survived so far. Whenever I joined them for literally anything, something went wrong. It was disastrous. If they didn't have each other, one of them would've died at least once by now.

I had no idea if it was because of me or if they were like this on their own too, but the chaos sometimes was too much for me to handle.

And of course, I loved them. I loved being together with them, spending time with them, but marrying them? That is something that never really fitted into my head.

"I will see you later.", I explained, as I kissed them goodbye. Ragnar only nodded, while Lagertha tried to pull me back into bed, but I managed to escape eventually.

"Lagertha, you know I have to help my brother with his shop."

"Oh he can build his boats alone." Ragnar mumbled. I playfully punched his arm.

"Don't talk about your best friend like that!",I scolded them.

"But it's true.", He laughed and layed back down, "Floki is the best boat builder in the nine realms."

"Well, maybe I just like seeing my brother.",I smiled, as I turned around to leave.

"See you later, you two. I love you.", I shouted as I stepped out of the door.

"We love you too, Y/N!", I heard the laughting, as I left their home.

I was making my way over the market of Kattegat, in search of my Brother Floki. But it seemed like he was still at his house, a little bit away from the town.

"Y/N"

I turned around, as I watched Bjorn jogging towards me. I smiled at the young boy and greeted him.

"Hello Bjorn.", I smiled, "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine.",He said and looked at me,"Have you said yes by now?"

"Oh you too now", I sighed, "Why is everybody asking me that today?"

Bjorn smiled at me Apologetic:"Sorry. It's just... I really want to know."

"I didn't say yes so far.", I informed him, "And I won't say yes."

"Why not?", he asked perplexed.

"So, you approve?", I grinned.

"Honestly, my parents are absolute chaos, you're making them a lot more bearable.", he explained.

I chuckled at his words:"Well, thank you. But I still won't marry them."

"Huh",Bjorn huffed, "Its your choice after all. But you won't leave them, right?"

"Gods, no!", I said, "I love them too much for that, I just won't marry them."

"well that's fine by me.", Bjorn said and patted my shoulder,"I'll see you later."

"Yeah, bye", I smiled and watched as he made his way back to the Market.

I was walking alone again. I guess I would be doing that 'till eternity.

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Part Four

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count: 2146

Warnings: drinking, Sigurd making a cripple joke, drunk reader

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two Part three

Masterlist Here

Something your arrival seemed to have distracted from was the success of the latest raid. “You’ll love it,” Hvitserk told you over breakfast. He, you had soon noticed, was the only morning person of the bunch. Ivar looked even more homicidal while Sigurd was still too asleep to piss him off. Meanwhile Ubbe was still in bed, threatening to cut off whoever’s hand tried to wake him, “We pull out all the stops. Wines, mead, ale, -“

“Is anything not alcohol related?” you joked just as Bjorn walked in. You’d honestly expected him to have breakfast with his father, but Bjorn said nothing as he took a seat beside you. You knew he was tall but him sitting shoulder to shoulder with you made you realise just how not only tall, but wide he was. The man was built like a bear.

“Hello?” Hvitserk said, waving his hand in front of your eyes, “I swear none of you appreciate the morning,” he tutted.

“Die,” Ivar grunted, earning an agreement from Sigurd. You chuckled a little at seeing them finally on the same side.

Still, you shot Hvitserk an apologetic smile. “Sorry Hvitserk I just spaced out,”

“Spaced out?” He asked, even Bjorn looking down in confusion.

“Like got distracted?”

Hvitserk nodded in understanding, but Bjorn wasn’t satisfied, his head tilting even further in confusion. “Why do you say ‘like’ all the time? You always say like at the start of everything its strange,”

“I guess it’s like,” you said, pausing to chuckle at the accident though he didn’t laugh, “I don’t know it’s just how we talk where I’m from. Like how in every conversation someone threatens someone’s life here,” you said, finally earning a crack of a smile from him, “Where I’m from that would be the weird thing,”

“It’s not as if we mean it,” Hvitserk said.

“It’s brotherly love,” You turned to look at Ivar and Sigurd who both just kind of shrugs.

“It’s something all right,” Sigurd muttered. Ivar’s glare said enough on his behalf.

You ignored them both and turned back to Hvitserk with a laugh. After all they were brothers after all. It was all just talk. Surely. “So, if I go wake Ubbe up right now he won’t actually cut off my hand?” This time they all shared a concerned look. Okay maybe not.

“Take back up with you,” Ivar said. “Just encase,”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at the dramatics of all of them “Seriously? Right come on then,” you said, nodding your head at Ivar as you stood.

For a moment you actually saw a slight look of fear wash over his face, “But I’m still eating,” he tried to weasel his way out of it making Sigurd laugh. That was until you turned to him, hands on hip and his eyes suddenly dipped to the floor and the laughing stopped.

You threw your hands up, “He cannot be that bad!” you protested as you headed to Ubbe’s room.

As you headed for the door you heard someone’s chair scrape against the floor following you. You knocked on the door before quickly pushing it open, “Rise and shine sunshine- “

A loud groan came from the lump under the furs that was presumably the grumpy Ubbe everyone had warned you about. He quickly went to sit up and you jumped back when you saw the axe in his hand. Right back into what you soon realised was Bjorn’s chest.

Realization dawned over Ubbe’s face when he saw you, “Oh,” he said, dropping the axe onto the furs, “Sorry I didn’t realise it was you,” he mumbled, collapsing back into bed.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you mumbled, stepping away from Bjorn and hoping he didn’t see the blush covering your cheeks from the previous closeness. Then they went even redder when Ubbe sat up in bed and you realised he had nothing on. “I’m just gonna,” you span around, trying to leave, before almost smacking right back into Bjorn’s chest. You almost gulped before looking up at him, “Sorry,” you mumbled, rushing out past him, not noticing the smirk on Bjorn’s face or the way Ubbe laughed at your antics.

-

Ivar had finished eating by the time you’d returned, and you very quickly insisted on him showing you the market like he’d promised last night. He almost jumped at the chance and debated flinging his knife into Sigurd’s chest when he insisted on joining you both. However, you weren’t out for long before Aslaug sent a thrall to fetch you.

Aslaug had arranged for you to receive another dress for tonight’s festivities since “our guests represent our honour,” and you weren’t going to turn down the clean clothes.

The boys had gone out to do some training leaving you to get ready. You debated doing some makeup, you did have a couple items in your bag after all. “What is that?” Aslaug asked as she and a woman you recognised as Helga walked into the room. You’d been sat at a table in the middle of the house to utilise the little light inside and hadn’t heard them walk in, “Its eyeliner,” you said, showing them the black on your eyes, “Like how you use charcoal on yours,”

“Can I watch?” Helga asked, excitement written on her face as she sat across from you, “What’s this?” she asked, picking up the liquid blush, “It’s so bright!”

“It’s blush,” you laughed, “It’s for your cheeks,”

Aslaug sat next to her, eyeing over the cosmetics, “Like berries?”

“Kind of?” you said, gently taking it out of Helga’s hand so you could put it on to show them,

“See?” you asked patting it in, “Same sort of thing but this lasts a bit longer,”

“Can we try some?” Helga asked and even Aslaug looked interested at the idea. For the next while you helped them apply some moisturiser and blush to ease them into it. you were honestly scared to show them your eyeshadow pallet considering how Helga reacted to a pink blush.

then it was your turn. Apparently, the hair problem was long overdue. Helga was gentle when she brushed but you winced as Aslaug took over the intricate braids. “Do all girls fuss where you’re from?”

By the time she was done however you had to admit it looked beautiful. “You almost look like one of us,” there was almost fondness in Aslaug smile.

Helga looked up with a large grin, “You’ll get used to the pain. You looked wonderful though,”

-

Walking into the bustling hall by Aslaug’s side was both comforting and terrifying. On one hand it meant no one would question you but on the other, everyone was staring. When the boys finally returned Hvitserk was the first to greet you and you happily accepted the ale he offered.

You were sat at a table with the five of them, Hvitserk and Ivar on either side of you, and Bjorn, Ubbe, and Sigurd across from you. However, something the group were quickly realising was their tolerance to ale was far higher than yours. “Do you not drink where you’re from?” Ubbe teased as your cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

“We do! I swear I’m not a lightweight. This stuffs just strong!” you laughed.

Apparently, the laugh was infectious as soon they were all giggly. All but Bjorn but for once there was a permanent smile on his face, “What’s a lightweight?” Bjorn asked.

“Someone who can’t hold their alcohol,” you told him, very matter of factly making them all laugh at your drunken confidence, “You lot wouldn’t last one second on a night out at my campus. I’m talking tequila shots, body shots, Jello shots,” you began to drunkenly list off as the boys tilted their heads in amused confusion.

“What’s a shot?” Hvitserk asked making you face palm.

“Oh, I have so much to teach you,”

-

Unfortunately, while the boys were great company and had adjusted well to you being in their groups your presence seemed to disrupt everyone else. It was Hvitserk who first noticed everyone staring at you, but you were too tipsy too care. However, as Ivar and Ubbe drank more both began to glare at the men whose eyes stayed too long.

Despite all the boys warning you about Ivar’s temper they all seemed to ignore Ubbe’s even when he insisted on you all leaving because a drunken Viking tried to hit on you. You however were happy enough to follow them all the edge of the lake and sit on the cold sand with a flask of ale being passed around.

As you were all walking down to the lake Hvitserk, and Sigurd were in a heated debate over which slave girl was hotter while Ubbe carried a giggling Ivar on his back. somehow, you’d ended up at the back of the pack, stumbling down the hill beside Bjorn.

“Woah,” he gasped, grabbing your waist before you could stumble and fall over a tree branch. “Steady,”

“Careful Bjorn,” you grinned up at him, holding onto the arm he offered you so you wouldn’t risk falling again, “Someone might think we’re friends,” you teased.

A smirk quickly showed on his face, a teasing light in his eyes, “Oh? Are we not friends already? I am wounded,”

“Friends don’t try kill their friends,” you pouted but you weren’t able to keep the charade up for long before grinning again like a Cheshire cat.

Bjorn just rolled his eyes with a smile however, “We weren’t friends then. We are now,”

“So, you won’t try kill me again?”

Another eye roll, “I won’t try kill you, no,” he said, shaking his head as he helped you to where the rest of the group had begun to sit.

“Pinky promise?” you asked, pulling out of his grip and extending his arm.

His eyes narrowed, head tilting, “What’s a pinkie promise?”

“Its where,” you said, stepping closer to grab his hand, “You lock pinkies,” you said wrapping yours around his, not noticing the smile on his face, “And promise something. And if you break it, I get to break your pinkie,”

“So, an oath?”

“An oath with a threat,”

“Of breaking a finger?”

“Pinkie specifically but yes,” you grinned, “So do you promise?”

“I promise,”

“Good,” you grinned, pulling your pinkie away from his grip before turning to join the group. You plopped down on the ground next to Ivar who was staring off into the sea, “Hi,” you grinned.

Ivar turned to you, laughing when he saw the wide grin on your cheeks, “Hello,” you could hear a slight drunken slur in his words. “Want some?” he asked, passing you, his ale.

You gladly accepted it, taking a drink of the alcohol you first hated but soon grew to love, “Thanks. You’re always so sweet to me,” you smiled before taking a drink, missing the way Ivar’s cheeks went red at your sweet words. Sigurd however didn’t want you to miss it.

“Aww look at the cripple,” he teased making Ivar scowl, “He’s blushing like a baby,”

You passed Ivar his drink back, noticing how tense his jaw was and quickly checking to see how close he was to his axe. After all you didn’t need to be here when the fall out happened, “Why do you care so much Sigurd?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

Everyone’s eyes seemingly went wide, shocked that your bubbly attitude had so quickly dropped. “you don’t get it,” he tried to brush off, “you’re not from here,”

“Then explain it to me,” you said, sitting up straight, “Explain what’s so funny about Ivar’s legs. Ill wait,”

“Well its just,” he tried to stutter earning a snigger from Hvitserk, “I don’t know it just is. Why do you care?”

You were honestly a bit hurt by that, “because he’s, my friend?” you said it like a question because the answer seemed so obvious.

“Okay well I’m sorry,” Sigurd shrugged, his eyes focused on the ground.

Luckily the night quickly moved on from the brief ugly confrontation however Ivar couldn’t get the reaction out of his mind. He was so used to fighting his own battles that he never even expected someone else to back him up, let alone speak up before him. Despite his bruised ego Sigurd thankfully stayed civil for the rest of the night.

A few hours passed before you all decided to walk home. You were in a world of your own at this point, your eyes fixed on how bright the night sky was with stars with no city skyline or factory gases to ruin your view. You didn’t even notice the stares from the boys or hear Hvitserk and Ubbe talk about how you stood up to Sigurd. For the first time this week you didn’t have a care in the world.

Part five

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[imeanyourmomsprettyhot]

I Still Hate You || Hvitserk

masterlist

I got the inspiration for this post from this prompt:

"I don't like you, I just find you hot"

════════════════════════

"I knew you'd come back," you laughed, as the tall son of Ragnar entered your room.

"Don't you conceive yourself as being something important!" He spat, as he got closer to the bed you were lying on, "I don't like you, I just find you hot."

Hvitserk pulled you on you legs closer to the edge of the bed, where he hovered on top of you. His lips met yours, and his tongue instantly entered your mouth.

You were the wife of Bjorn Ironside, which was enough reason for the other sons of Ragnar Lothbrok to hate you. But after a strange encounter with Hvitserk the other night, when your husband left with the ships, he started visiting you, even though he clearly told you it was a mistake and that it will never happen again.

He for sure didn't like you, but he liked your body. He liked how your warmth feels around his cock, and he liked the sounds you make while he fucks you.

You loved your husband, you really did. But he was never able to fully please you. Bjorn was always gentle with his women, but you found, you needed the roughness of one of your enemies, to finally cum.

Hvitserk's messy kiss lead to an end, leaving you with an all wet mouth and an even wetter spot between your legs.

He forcefully turned you around, so you were now on all fours—He never wanted to look at your face while he fucked you;he hated you too much for that.

He roughly pulled your dress up and pushed your head down in the pillow, your ass now being on full display. It didn't take long for him to get rid of his pants, and he pushed his whole length inside, a splash of pain rushing through your body.

He didn't let you adjust to his size, he immediately pounded into you in whatever paste he needed right now.

You cunt was drooling over how harsh he treated you, and through the pain, you felt pleasure. The sound of his skin slapping on yours, filled the room up completely, almost covering up your loud moans.

A hard smack landed on your ass cheek, which turned into a dark red shade. You cried out at the sudden pain, but you secretly liked it.

He thrusted into you even harder, hitting your g-spot with full force. It was painful, but it made you even needier. His hand was still hardly pressing down your head in your pillow, keeping you in place.

He smacked your, already red, cheek again, earning a whimper from you, as tears start to form in your eyes. He loved the sound of your cries. He loved seeing you in pain.

Hvitserk's growls got louder and breathier, as you noticed him being close. But he did someone unexpected. He turned you back around, one of your legs being over his shoulder.

He now could enter you deeper, putting you in even more pleasurable-pain.

He stopped pounding for a moment, before another smack hit the side of your face.

"Look at me, you whore!" He commanded, and you did as he said.

His hips started grinding again. He was looking you deeply in the eyes—They were filled with so much anger and hatred.

You had similar sex like this a few times with Bjorn, after you two fought, but it was never close to what his brother did to you.

Your mouth was wide opened, and desperate cries were coming out of it. Hvitserk was soon to cum, as his grunts got heavier, and the thrusts sloppier.

He still hasn't looked away from your eyes, his were deeply focused on yours. His breath became more and more unsteady, while your moans increased with every painful pound that shot through your core.

A few more thrusts was all he needed to release his load all over your stomach, some of it landing on your dress.

The way he treated you like a dirty slut, made you cum right after him, with a loud scream. Hvitserk was able to make you cum, even after he stopped touching you. This was what made you so attached to him.

"You fucking bitch, just look at you," he stood up, pulling his trousers on, "So fucking needy for my cock."

"Please fuck me again," you begged him, breathing heavily.

But he just laughed at you, "I still hate you, you little slut. I don't intend to make you feel good, you understand that?"

He quickly left the room, leaving you alone with the mess he made, still horny and greedily waiting for the next time he visits you.

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Sigurd Ending: Vikings - Una Flor

Summary: For some, it takes just a bit of bravery to find the one that will dance alongside you.

Pairing: Sigurd x Reader (romantic)

A/N: Took me forever and a day, but that should be it! Sigurd was the final Ragnarsson for Una Flor and as bittersweet as it is, I'm glad that I finish with him.

Una Flor Series Masterlist

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

Music had always been a part of his life. It thrummed through his veins and sang in his souls in a way that it could never be expressed through simple words. It was just something that ingrained itself into his life, and despite the mocking words of his brothers, it would never be something that he could see himself leave behind. 

But it made him all the more grateful that music was a part of his life, because how else would he be able to have such an amazing view of the light of his life dancing to her hearts content to the beat of the music that he made. His love and three tiny loves were dancing joyfully in tune to the rhythm, along with an additional little love that clumsily clapped as he sat beside him. 

The two had married swiftly after the night that Sigurd had confessed to (Y/N), as the red - haired brother had no intention of letting his brothers think that they had a chance of changing her mind after she had accepted his sweet starry night confession. They spent a few years of being happily married before the couple decided that they wanted to expand their family. They would go on to have their three lovely daughters; Calliope the eldest, followed by Erato, and then Thalia. The girls were near identical copies of their mother but with their father’s eyes.  

Both Sigurd and (Y/N) had thought their little family was complete after the births of their three girls, but it wasn’t long before they were blessed with their only son Canto. A happy and chubby little baby boy that loved to clap along to music to the best of his abilities and has his mother’s eyes and father’s features.  

"Come on Papa, join us!" Said Calliope with a giggle, the girls held on to each other as they danced in their small circle.

(Y/N) left the girls dancing and quickly scooped up Canto into her arms, bringing adorable squeals from the baby boy as he cuddled into his mother.

“Mi amor, leave your instrument and join us!” 

He wasn’t much of a dancer, rarely joining in during his youth because he never had anyone that would be willing to dance alongside him, often being second choice over one of his brothers. Sigurd didn’t think himself to be the most handsome, most intelligent, the wittiest, or the strongest of his brothers. 

But although he would never say it, he thought that perhaps he was the bravest of his brothers. He was brave enough to be himself despite the years of mockery that he wasn’t man enough. He was brave enough to let himself be vulnerable and he was brave enough to confess his heart to his muse. 

Now he would forever have someone to share his music with and someone to hold his hand to dance alongside. 

[literaryuppsala]

You could take a shot where the oc is a slave and meets Ubbe while he is married to Margrethe and ends up getting involved with him, and this generates a child. Margrethe goes crazy and begins to threaten oc and her son, when Ubbe finds out about getting angry and protective.

Do you still remember this ask? I hope you do... I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish this, about your other ask, i was thinking i could write not a one shot, but a short fic cause it's so good and it needs details i cant give if its just a one shot, tell me what you think ok? either way, hope you like this one, hope it turned out the way you imagined, enjoy ♥

N/A: mentions of smut, description of violence and child birth, proceed with care.

Minors, don't interact.

“Oh gods!” You moaned one more time. 

Your body was bent over the table, gown hiked up on your waist while Ubbe pounded behind you quickly, his hands with a firm grip on your hips while yours held onto the table like your life depended on It. His hips slammed against yours making the sound of skin slapping against skin echo through the walls. 

“Sing to me, little bird.” He begged for your moans like he begged every time, like he wasn’t dragging the sounds from you with every thrust of his hips. 

You mewled, whined and moaned, gripping at the table with full force while his hands left your hip, rubbed against your back for a moment before taking the knife he still had on the back of his trousers and with one stroke he tore the dress in two, exposing the skin of your back which he rubbed, dragging his hands up your shoulders and pulling you up until your back hit his chest, the new, strange angle, making his cock reach your sweet spot and making you see white stars behind your eyelids. 

“I love to hear your singing.” He whispered in your ear while both of his hands grabbed the front of your gown that was already loosened up and pulled down, exposing your breasts to the cold air of your house, your nipples were hard and sensitive when he touched them, tugging at the little nubs with the tip of his fingers. “Sweet, sweet sounds...” 

You raised your hands and hugged his neck, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt him speeding up his thrusts, you knew he was close. He grunted low in your ear, dragging you to the edge, making the coil on your lower stomach snap all of a sudden and a loud moan escaped through your lips. He followed close behind, coming inside you for the second time that night, filling you up with his seed. 

“How am I supposed to go home now?” You asked as you tried to hold together the rags of your dress. 

After straightening out his clothes he covered your shoulders with his fur, protecting your upper body. 

“This can’t keep happening.” You mumbled, holding the fur around your body. 

“And yet here we are.” He answered, fingers touching your chin, raising your head so you could look him in the eyes. “I can’t stay away from you.” 

His touch stayed with you until the next morning, burning on your skin like wildfire. 

You couldn’t stay away from him either, answering his calls anytime he asked, melting into his touch every time his hands met your skin. You were incapable of saying no to him, incapable of keeping your distance. 

Ubbe was a menace, you knew that since the first time you saw him. Aslaug bought you as a slave and you tried to serve the household in peace, you didn’t want trouble, let alone trouble with the princes, but that was before his gaze followed you around the great hall while you worked, before his eyes always seemed to find you through the crowd, lingering until it became unbearable and you had to look back. 

He tried to be subtle about It, tried to hide behind his cup and tried to pay attention to the conversation going around, but at the end of the night, after everyone else was gone, he found you in the kitchen. He would talk to you for hours while you finished your chores, sometimes he even helped you a little. His lingering touches seemed to ignite a fire inside your body and were the end of you, before you knew, you were  taken. 

“I’m with child.” You said It one night, laying on his chest. He looked at you and smiled big, his eyes sparkling blue when he looked at you. 

“The gods had finally blessed me with a child.” 

“It’s not a blessing, Ubbe.” You sat down by his side, looking at him. “What am I going to say to everybody?”

“You don’t have to say anything, I’m going to take care of you.”

“What about Margrethe?”

“She’s not who I thought she was, I don’t love her.”

“This is not right.” You mumbled. 

“Come here.” He asked, holding your hand and pulling you back to his chest, you went with It, hugging his waist while he caressed your hair. “I’ll talk to her. I want you.” 

The next day, you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you or noticed the sound of Margrethe’s heavy breathing, but felt a pair of hands pulling on your hair. 

“You stole my husband!” She screamed, throwing your body on the floor.

Margrethe dragged you from the kitchen towards the great hall, pulling you by the hair. You screamed trying to get rid of her hands, fearing for the baby growing inside of you

“I will kill you!” Margrethe stated, throwing you in the middle of the great hall, the commotion catching the attention of the other servants who were too scared to do anything and didn’t even understand what was happening. 

“Leave me alone!” You screamed.

She sat on your hips, holding your arms under her knees while you struggled under her weight. Margrethe hit you on the face two or three times before someone finally stepped in, taking her body from the top of you. You quickly crawled back away from her, face turned totally red in utter embarrassment, tears gathering on the corners of your eyes as you looked around searching for Ubbe. 

“I will never leave you alone.” She screamed back at you. “You will never be free to be with him, you’ll never be happy!”

You ran away from the great hall, tears streaming down your face, clouding your vision, you ran blindly until you bumped into something firm, a pair of hands held your shoulders and you looked up, pale blue eyes looking worriedly at you while trying to calm you down. 

“Little bird.” He called you, holding your face between his hands, touching your wet cheeks. “What happened?”

“She cursed me! She said I’ll never be happy!” You whined.

“Who? Margrethe?” He asked with a frown and you nodded. “I’ll talk to her.”

“NO MORE TALKING!” You scolded. “She humiliated me in front of everybody, she cursed me! We should end this before it gets worse.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“She said she’ll kill me, Ubbe…” You mumbled before moving away from him, untangling your body from his arms. “It’s better If we stay away.”

Months had passed since that talk with Ubbe, Aslaug freed you and helped you run away, gave you a farm where you could hide away from Margrethe, every now and then she would visit to check on you.

“You’re bigger every time I see you.” Aslaug joked, hugging you tightly. “It’s almost time.” 

“Yeah…” You smiled shyly.

“Ubbe is worried, he wants to come and see you.” 

“I don’t know…” You fumbled through the kitchen while she sat at the table.

“He misses you. It’s been months, Margrethe won’t be a problem anymore.”

“What happened to her?” 

“She’s crazy, she’s been talking to herself, wandering.” 

“She’s more dangerous then.”

“Ubbe can protect you.”

“What If he sails away?” 

“You’ll stay with me.”

You missed him too, missed him so much. Every time the child moved inside your belly, every time it kicked when you talked, you thought about him, about his reaction, he missed so much of your pregnancy already you felt guilty about It, he said he wanted to be part of your life but you closed that door. 

“Let him come. He wants to be with you for the birth.” Aslaug insisted and looked at her. “He’s the father of your child and wants to be there for you when the time comes.”

Ubbe came the next morning, you saw him walking towards your house by the beach, his shoulders brushed and head low, he seemed tired and sad, but as soon as his eyes met yours, his face completely lit up and he smiled. You felt warm all over, like your body missed his eyes on you and you gently rubbed your belly while waiting for him to reach you. 

“Little bird…” He mumbled, a few feets away from the opened door of your house where you stood waiting for him. 

You moved to the side and silently asked him to come in, he obeyed quickly and you closed the door behind his back. When he turned to you, his face was focused on your belly, his arms along his body while he closed his hands in fists, like he was using all his strength to keep himself from touching you. 

“I missed you.” He simply said, his eyes following up your body ‘til he found your face. “Are you good?”

“I am.” You answered shyly. “We are.” 

He took a few steps towards you and you took the same steps back, his face fell, his smile died on his face. 

“Are you?” You asked him and he nodded. “You hungry?” You walked past him and started fumbling in the kitchen. “I can make you something.”

“No… Can we talk?” 

“Sure…”

“Little bird… Look at me.”

“What?”

“Sit with me.”

You obeyed, both of you sitting side by side at the kitchen table, he looked at you for a moment and before he said anything his hand reached for your belly, softly touching your swollen frame. Your whole body lit up like a fireplace, like the warmth from his touch was everything you needed, a familiar sensation of relief washed over you when you felt his hand on your body, a sensation you didn’t know you needed until you finally felt it. He rubbed your belly gently and just like magic your baby kicked against his touch, making his face contort with a smile. 

“I want you to come back with me to Kattegat.” He simply said, his hand still on you.

“Ubbe…”

“This is nonsense. I love you, you love me, you’re carrying my child, we shouldn’t be away from each other.”

“I-I… What about Margrethe?”

“She’s more dangerous to herself than she is to anybody else.” 

“Aslaug told me…” 

“You don’t have to hide.”

“She promised to kill me.”

“I will never let anything happen to you.” 

You covered his hand with yours and sighed heavily, looking away from his face, trying to avoid his gaze, but he touched your face with his free hand and made you look at him.

“I want our baby to be born where it’s safe, away from the city, away from Margrethe.”  You mumbled. “Please.”

Ubbe leaned towards you and held your face with both of his hands, pulling you into a kiss that you happily corresponded, kissing him back. It was different from every other kiss you shared, was sweet and calm, filled with worry. He hugged you tightly and you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Please.” You repeated. 

He didn’t answer, meaning you would come back to that conversation later, but he didn’t insist on taking you away before the birth. 

Ubbe kept coming to visit you everyday until he finally decided to stay with you. You were on the last days of your pregnancy and It could happen at any time when he decided to stay and for the first time you felt like you could raise a family with him. To feel his presence around the farm was everything you ever wished for.

You watched him fondly from the door when you felt a sharp pain on your lower abdomen, making you lean forward with your hands on your belly. 

“Ubbe…” You mumbled as you felt something wet coming down your legs. “Ubbe!” You caught his attention, his face dropped and he ran to you. 

“Are you alright?” He asked as he wrapped his arms around you, stopping you from falling to your knees.

“I guess it’s time…” You murmured, looking up at him with a weak smile, he widened his eyes. 

“I’ll go find my mother…” He told you while helping you inside, taking you to the bed and helping you while you laid down.

“Don’t leave me.” 

“I’ll be right back, be strong.” He kissed your forehead and left through the door.

By the time he came back, you were already covered in a thin layer of sweat, your hair glued to your dampen face, cheeks flushed, body trembling. Ubbe appeared one more time by your side and you felt while two delicate hands touched your knees, that’s when you noticed Aslaug’s presence. 

“I’m here little bird…” He reassured you, sitting by your side on the bed. 

“Ubbe…” You whined. 

“You’re going to be alright.” Aslaug told you while holding up the skirt of your dress, exposing yourself to her. 

Ubbe held your hand firmly, leaning over you to rub his lips on your wet forehead, covering you in warm praises, telling you how proud he was of you, how strong you were. You used all your strength to push your baby out, your chest moving up and down with your heavy breathing, body arching while you grunted under your breath. Every new push made you scream and cry in pain. He looked from you to his mother, worried It was taking too long.

“One more time, little bird… One more time.”

You pressed his hand with yours and screamed louder than before, almost sitting down ‘til you finally pushed your baby out, his cries filled your home and your ears, and you smiled weakly as you watched Aslaug handing the baby to Ubbe.

“It’s a boy.” She announced proudly and he sat back by your side. “You blessed me with a boy.” 

The days in the farm were easy, with your boy growing up stronger each day, you lived the family life you always wanted, to watch Ubbe holding the baby while playing warmed up your heart. 

“Mother wants to see him.” Ubbe told you that morning, a tiny smile on his face as he watched while the baby held his big finger. 

“She can come anytime she wants, I’ll prepare something for us.” You answered without looking at him.

“She wants us to go to Kattegat.” He told you and you widened your eyes, stared at him in panic. “She told me Margrethe is gone, left for a few months now and no one had known anything about her since then.” 

“Are you sure?” You asked suspiciously and he nodded. 

It took you a few minutes to digest the information, but you eventually agreed with him and both of you left the farm, your first time since you got there. You were nervous, but Ubbe held your hand the entire time, holding little Æirik in his arms. As soon as you got there, you saw a few familiar faces but you were confident enough to walk by his side, the few weird looks you got were quickly repeled by his firm stare. 

Aslaug received you on the great hall and immediately took Æirik in her arms, showing the baby around with the biggest smile, Ubbe sat at the table pulling you into his lap, bringing you into the conversation with his brothers, but you never really stopped following Aslaug around, just checking on her with the baby. 

For a moment nothing was really bothering you, the conversation going around was actually very calm, the voices mingling together as you talked to Hvitserk, laughing over a stupid joke he made until you looked around and lost sight of Aslaug. 

“Where’s your mother?” You murmured against Ubbe’s ear catching his attention. 

“She’s probably back there.” He pointed over the doors to the rooms and you frowned. 

“I’m going to see if she’s alright.” You untangled yourself from his arms and walked towards the rooms.

At first you were just confused, looking for Aslaug just to know if she needed any help with the baby, but when you saw her body lying unconscious on the ground, you felt your heart race. 

“Aslaug!” You called for her kneeling on her side, turning her body so you could see her face. A deep cut on her forehead letting you know she was hurt by someone else. 

You heard baby cries coming from outside and immediately ran to the back door, just in time to watch a silhouette running in the dark. The blond hair was the first thing you noticed, and you knew who that person was. 

You came back running to the great hall, screaming on your way to make everybody stop what they were doing. 

“SHE TOOK MY BABY!” You screamed in panic, running towards Ubbe who looked at you with a frown. “She hit Aslaug in the head and she took him! SHE TOOK HIM!” 

Ubbe got up and held your shoulders, he kissed your forehead before running to the back, his brothers followed him and so did their man. You felt a pair of hands around your body and you looked back, Torvi was hugging you tightly, trying to comfort you as you cried in despair. 

Aslaug was brought inside by Freydis who helped her sitting back on her throne, already waking up but still a little dizzy, when her stare finally focused on you she busted out crying, hands reaching for yours as she mumbled:

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” 

You kneeled in front of her, holding her hands with yours and calmed her down:

“It’s not your fault… It’s not your fault!”

Meanwhile Ubbe ran through the woods followed closely by his brothers and his men, all of them looking for any sign of the baby. When they finally reached the beach, he found Margrethe by the sea, the baby crying in her arms while she looked straight in his eyes. 

“Margrethe…” He called her name, slowly walking towards her. 

“You left me…” She mumbled, moving her gaze from him to the baby. “You left me for this, because I couldn’t give you a son!” 

“No, it’s not like this, please, let’s talk.” 

“You wanted a child and I couldn’t give you one, that’s why you chose her.” 

“Please, give me him, we can talk through this, don’t hurt him.”

“Hurt him? You think I want to hurt him?” 

“Why did you steal him?”

“Wanted to make you see that I can be a good mother too, you can accept me back if we have him! You don’t need the witch, she already gave you a son, I know you love me!” 

“Margrethe, give me him, please…”

As Ubbe walked towards her, she took the same steps back, walking into the ocean. He feared for his son’s life, he didn’t want to scare her away. 

“Come back to me, please?! Come here…” He opened his arms trying to invite her in. “Come here…”

As she convinced herself he was accepting her call, she walked over to him, a weak smile on her face as she finally had the chance she always wanted. Ubbe received her in his arms, held her and tried to get the baby from her arms, which she allowed. When the baby was finally in his arms, Ivar had her chest under his aim and released the arrow that hit her in the heart. Her body fell back on the water while Ubbe looked at her with widened eyes.

“What have you done?” He asked in shock, looking at Ivar. 

“I saved your life, you can thank me later.” 

When they finally came back, you ran towards Ubbe who quickly handed you your son, who you hugged tightly against your chest. Heavy tears coating his little head as you kept crying and kissing his face. 

“What happened to Margrethe?” You asked between cries. 

“She’s gone.” Ivar answered from behind Ubbe’s back and you looked at him in shock.

“Is she dead?” You asked with widened eyes, looking from Ivar to Ubbe and Ubbe nodded. “Is it over?” 

“It is.” Ubbe answered before hugging you, rubbing your back and kissing the crown of your head. “It’s over, little bird.”