#Vikings Fanfiction

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

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Ivar is tired.

Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.

The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.

Ivar is also angry.

As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.

Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.

He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.

His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.

Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.

"Who is she?"

Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:

"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."

"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."

"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.

The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.

And then appears he.

A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.

You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.

When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.

They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.

Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.

The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?

The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?

It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.

"I believe this belongs to you."

Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.

At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.

"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.

"And why should I keep it?"

The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.

"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."

Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.

The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.

"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.

You wish you knew the answer yourself.

"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."

Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."

"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."

"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.

Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.

"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."

The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:

How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.

But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"

Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.

"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."

Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.

[multific]

The Mistress of The Devil

Ivar the Boneless x DarkWitch!Reader

Warnings: mention of witchcraft, demons

Summary: Dark clothes, dark aura and powers. Where you came from, or who you were, not even Aslaug was sure anymore. All she could recall is that she promised to wed her son to you. And now, the Devil had a wife.

"I said you will marry her and this is the last I want to hear anything from you Ivar!" hearing his mother yell, Ivar knew, he lost this battle.

He was to marry this unknown woman.

He hated the idea.

Ivar will just simply kill her, he needs no wife.

He said, but the next day, just when Kattegat woke up, there stood a woman.

She was dressed in a black, her smile was kind, too kind for someone dressed so dark.

"My name is Y/N. I came for my wedding."

Everyone was confused. Aslaug ended up showing you around and introducing you to your future husband.

Ivar Ragnarson.

A strong man with an even stronger will. His legs were the proof of it. He never backed down, not letting anything get in his way.

You liked it.

The determination. The fire.

It is just what you need in a husband.

You smiled at Ivar as you two were wed.

Now, you had him.

---

Everyone knew the name Ivar the Boneless. Everyone feared Ivar the Boneless.

The fearless Viking known for his intelligence and insanity.

But then, a whisper came with the wind.

A whisper of his wife.

A woman, explained as the Darkness herself.

The Christians referred to her as Satan's Wife. 

Would that make Ivar Satan in their logic?

Everyone wondered how could Ivar be so fearless, how could he know so much.

The answer was simple, his wife.

You, with your powers inherited throughout the generations of women in your family.

You, the dark sorceress who fell madly in love with a not so simple Viking.

It was always you.

People who survived Ivar's wrath often said it was as if he had a dark figure standing behind him. The figure was tall, and had long arms and eyes that glow red like blood.

Overexadiration, but not far from the truth.

One of your many beings. 

Sentenced to follow and help Ivar in his fights, the being didn't have a name. It was simply black and tall.

Ivar swore sometimes he could see it from the corner of his eye.

It made him recall a time when he first saw one of your... pets.

It was very late, the fire has nearly gone out, both of you sleeping under furs.

Ivar woke, his mind fuzzy with sleep when he saw someone or rather something in the corner. 

But as his eyes focused and he woke up with a start, the thing vanished.

"What is it, Ivar?" you asked, being awakened from your slumber.

"I saw someone." you looked at the corner he kept on staring at.

"I will deal with it, sleep now." you smiled at him as you stood up and walked towards the entrance of the house.

Ivar followed you, crawling as you opened the door, his words failed him.

You stood a couple steps from the door, looking towards the darkness. You turned to your left, then to your right. As if you saw someone you spoke up, just as Ivar found his way towards the doorway.

"Let him sleep! You are scaring him, I told you before." you said, to him it looked like you have gone mad, then you turned to him. "I told you before, they wouldn't hurt you, don't be afraid of them, Ivar." you said and Ivar swore he saw something move to his right. He quickly looked and saw a pair or long fingers on the wall, the... thing right around the corner, Ivar felt frozen.

Then he saw it.

The face of a being, not human. Illuminated by the light coming from the window, Ivar's pair of blues met with black eyes and skin so pale, Ivar never seen anything like it before.

"It won't hurt you." you said with a lower voice as you watched Ivar. He then looked back at you, you saw his confusion. "They won't hurt you." you said once more and this time, Ivar believed you.

But never after that night did he ever want to see any of your creatures.

---

You were a rather light sleeper. 

There were occasions when nothing could wake you, and other times where a simple movement from Ivar made you wake up. This was one of those nights.

You were awakened by his simple movement, you couldn't fall back to sleep and so, you decided to just sit by the fire and watch it and Ivar.

Ivar woke up hours later, it was still dark outside and he looked at you.

"Are your demons haunting you again, Wife?"

"Quite the opposite, My King. I'm haunting them." you smirked and Ivar moved to the edge of the bed. 

You stood up and stood still a couple steps away from him.

"What would you do for me, Ivar?" you asked and he looked into your eyes.

"I would burn the entire world. Kill every last person just to get to you. Kill every last demon just to have you with me again." you moved onto the floor, crawling over, you placed your hands on his knees.

"Would you run for me?" you watched his eyes switch. 

You offended him.

You corrected yourself.

"If I give you the ability, would you run to me, run to save me, run to kill them? Would you?"

"C-Can you?" he asked, eyes filling with hope.

And you nodded.

A simple nod.

"Will it hurt?" came his next question.

Another nod.

"It would be worth it. Standing beside you, as the proud husband I am. Run to you? Without a question." he ran his fingers through your hair.

You sealed your deal with a kiss.

---

Everyone in Kattegat woke up with a feeling of dread.

Then they all saw.

Ivar walking around like nothing happened, as if his legs always worked.

The Devil could walk.

And it terrified everyone.

They only could imagine what his enemies would think, given how his own people were terrified of him. 

His brother always knew Ivar's wife wasn't a regular woman. They had this feeling about her, as they said, there was a darkness around her.

And upon seeing their brother walk, there was no more doubt about it.

She made him walk.

So, was is actually that Ivar married the Devil? Would it actually be the Devil and her husband?

One thing was for sure, now whenever someone looked into the dark of your eyes, they could hear people crying and begging.

And just like with many names in history, yours and Ivar's were eventually melted into one.

It was no longer Ivar the Boneless and his wife.

Soon, all people remembered was the fierce Viking, Ivar the Boneless.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS 

[midnightstar16]

Whispers of Love: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: Reader is new in Kattegat and catches the attention of a certain Ragnarsson.

Warnings: Assault, murder, slight swearing(i think)

You came to Kattegat just a couple days ago but it didn’t take much time at all for you to notice the famous sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. You only saw them from a safe distance as they talked to one another. You noticed one of the boys was crippled but not before you saw his face. You were in awe, to say the least. But your eyes must have lingered on him for quite some time for he met your gaze with an intense stare that sent chills down your spine. You never had more reason to leave and go back to the hut you were staying in.

You became an orphan at the mere age of 12 and had taken care of the farm for many years with your older brother. But the two of you had recently decided that you wanted a far more exciting future than just farming on the land so you sold the land and took the money to buy a hut and look after yourself just until you had settled in. You forgot about Ivar soon enough once you reached you new home and moved on with your new life.

A month passed by and living in Kattegat was so much more different than the farm. It was much louder, faster and there were more people than you could count. But it was not to your dislike, it was the contrary actually. You had started your training to be a physician and you were doing nicely. Everything was working out better than you or your brother could’ve imagined.

Ivar had not stopped thinking about you ever since that little eye contact in the market and it may have been a bit delusional of him to still believe that he would see you again. You were probably not even in Kattegat anymore because he could not find you anywhere. You were the first girl to look at him with such admiration and he drowned in your beauty the second he laid eyes on you.

During dinner he seemed to have zoned out because Sigurd had to throw some food at him to get his attention. Ivar was immediately annoyed and glared at him. Trying to stop himself from flinging his axe at his brother, he asked, “Why are you throwing food around like a child?”

“You wouldn’t listen. Had to do something to bring you back to Midgard,” he replied.

Ivar rolled his eyes, already feeling great anger towards his brother but before he could say anything, his mother interrupted, “We are celebrating Yol tomorrow.”

Ivar drowned in his thoughts once more. He would know if you were in Kattegat by tomorrow night. If you were in the town, then you would be at the feast and he would approach you. He wanted to know all there was to know about you; all the important and unimportant things of your life.

You and Kalf, your brother began cleaning up the plates and horns after dinner. You broke the silence, “It is Yol tomorrow. There will be a great feast.”

“Yes, I have not been in the Great Hall since the Thing, where I got my arm ring. Just thinking about the food that will be there makes me hungry all over again,” Kalf spoke excitedly.

“We have just had dinner, you fool. How are you always this hungry?” You spoke laughingly.

“Your cooking will make any man excited to eat something else,” he commented.

Gasping, you threw the nearest thing you could find at him at which he simply laughed. You spoke sarcastically, “I won’t make food for you if you really hate it that much.”

“Well, I mean it’s not THAT bad if I think about it,” he retaliated.

Smiling smugly, you spoke, “Better.”

The feast was spectacular. You sat on a different table from your brother though because you knew he would embarrass you the first chance he got. The food and the ale was so good you could feast all night. There was music as well and many were dancing to it but you weren’t drunk enough yet to give yourself away to the music. You simply talked and laughed with your newly made friends.

Looking around the hall, you suddenly noticed certain eyes on you and then the memory came back. Those blue piercing eyes and that face, he was perfect in every way. You maintained the eye contact for long, getting lost in his eyes until one of your friends whispered, “That’s Ivar. The crippled one.”

You looked at her. You had heard of Ragnar Lothbrok’s crippled son. The girl continued, “They say he is a menace, quicker to anger than most men, so don’t let his legs fool you and not only that, but I’ve heard that he is stronger and better at fighting than any of his brothers. Apparently he strangled a boar with his bare hands but that is probably not true.”

“Of course it is not true,” you scoffed. After waiting a second, you suggested, “Come, let us dance. The music is lovely.”

The both of you giggled and rushed to give yourself away to the music. You soon felt the beat through your veins and the rhythm matching with your heartbeat. You danced uncontrollably, partly because you wanted to see how the crippled prince would react, if at all. His eyes had barely faltered from you and it was making you uncomfortable but you didn’t want him to know that. You didn’t want him to know that he made you feel weak by simply looking at you but every now and then you would give him a glance.

You suddenly felt a hand around your waist. You didn’t know who the man was for you had never seen him. His hold on you was not budging when you struggled. His other hand was roaming at places on your body that made you terrified and the hall was crowded enough for no one to truly notice your struggle.

“Let go of me!” you said, struggling.

“Oh what’s a bit of harmless fun? Especially with a woman of your beauty,” the man spoke.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as he continued to ‘dance’ and play around with your body until something that you hadn’t expected in a million years to happen. A knife suddenly struck his head as his eyes remained widened with shock. You quickly stepped away as his body fell to the ground. The tears ran down your face and you looked around trying to figure out who it was until you saw everyone looking at Ivar who was glaring at the man’s limp body. It was different to how he had looked at you in every singly way but you didn’t stay around to find out more. Feeling absolutely overwhelmed, you stormed out of the hall with Kalf following.

“What happened back there?” Kalf spoke worriedly.

“I-…” you hesitated. Before you could speak, your brother interrupted, “You don’t have to tell me. It is fine… Come on, let us go to our hut.”

Ivar had had his eyes on you all evening, his brothers even teasing him about it but he quickly turned them away angrily. But when he saw that asshole trying to touch you without consent, Ivar felt an uncontrollable anger. He wanted to skin the bastard alive but he couldn’t simply watch you struggle like that. Even after killing the man, Ivar felt no guilt. Why should he? He was simply protecting you, making sure you were safe.

No one had asked him about why he had done what he did. Perhaps it was already too obvious. Perhaps he had scared you off. You wouldn’t even want to go near him now. He felt his insecure thoughts weighing him down during the night.

You barely slept through the night, the picture of the knife piercing the man’s skull replaying in your mind and then seeing the look Ivar had on his face. That menacing look, the one that could take down entire armies.

The next day, you went away from the town to feel the quiet of nature that you had already begun to miss. You walked around the forest, finding a riverbank to sit nearby quickly enough. You thought about what had happened last night, how, in some really fucked up way, Ivar saved you. But he also killed a man who will never experience Valhalla now. Then again, that monster didn’t deserve Valhalla. You sat there wondering what would’ve happened if Ivar had not intervened.

“Mind if I join you?” you heard a voice from behind. When you turned your head and saw that it was Ivar, you quickly stood up.

“Were you following me?” you realised in this moment, you were terrified of him.

“Will it help if I said no? Either way, you walk too fast so I had to find you myself,” he spoke. When you didn’t say anything, it didn’t take him long enough to realise how you felt, “You are scared of me.”

Scoffing, you reasoned, “Who wouldn’t be? You killed a man while I was simply inches away.”

“He was hurting you,” Ivar remarked as if that was reason enough.

“But you could’ve killed me,” you argued.

Ivar grinned, “I didn’t though, did I?”

“Well… No but still, it was terrifying,” you said while Ivar made himself comfortable by sitting against the trunk of a fallen tree.

Even though Ivar worked very hard to not show it, he had been very nervous to actually talk to you. Now that you were here, he didn’t want to ever leave.

You stood there silently before sitting down in front of him. What was it about him that you felt so drawn towards?

He looked at you lovingly, “What is your name?”

“Y/N is what they call me… But I already know who you are, Ivar,” you acknowledged.

“Do you?” Ivar joked.

“That anger in those gorgeous eyes of yours, how could you be mistaken?” you replied.

“My eyes are ‘gorgeous’?” he couldn’t control his smile.

You blushed, “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t mind the compliment though, please, y/n, carry on about my gorgeous eyes,” he teased. Truth was, he felt a thousand butterflies. He’d never gotten a compliment from anyone.

The two of you continued making jokes at one another, laughing constantly and time flew by ever so quickly. Ivar couldn’t believe the sun was about to set. With you, he didn’t have to worry about anything. He felt at peace.

When his brothers asked where he had been, he simply smiled and shrugged. For the first time in so long, he didn’t feel furious. There was something about you, like you were a goddess who appeared to save him. The next day Ivar went up to the same place, hoping you would show up. He was almost about to leave until he saw you show up.

You finished your work as a physician for the day as quickly as you could and relied on your friends to cover up for you. Once out of Kattegat, you practically ran to the same spot on the riverbank as yesterday. You didn’t know how but you just knew that he would be there, nor did you know why you felt so eager to go to him either.

You continued these secret meetings for as long as you could. No one was aware of who or where you actually went but you didn’t care even if they found out. Ivar had become your sanctuary as you had become his.  

During one such evening, as the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the riverbank, you found yourselves lost in a conversation filled with laughter. Ivar had a knack for weaving humor into every exchange, and you found yourself charmed by his wit and the way his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Ivar grinned, his eyes dancing with mirth. "See? I told you I was the funniest person you'd ever meet."

Laughing, you shook your head. "Well, I suppose I can't argue with that."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, a warmth filling his eyes. "I'm glad you find me amusing, y/n."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter in your chest at the sincerity in his voice. "You have a way with words, Ivar."

He chuckled softly. "Only when I'm with you."

The air between you seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, and before you could think, you found yourself leaning in closer to him.

Ivar's hand gently brushed against your cheek as he whispered, "You're beautiful when you laugh, y/n."

Unable to resist the pull any longer, Ivar reached out, gently cupping your cheek with his hand. His touch was tender, sending a shiver down your spine as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest.

As your lips clashed with an overdue feeling of affection for one another, Ivar kissed you passionately and possessively almost as if declaring that you were his.

You pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, you found yourself lost in Ivar's eyes once more, a sense of belonging settling deep within your soul.

“I am yours, y/n, now and forever and you are mine,” Ivar’s words echoed in your heart as you buried your eyes in his, expressing a thousand unspoken words.

[woahhhgwendolyn]

Being Bjorn's Woman Would Include

-Being his woman would include a lot of things. It can also be overwhelming sometimes being with him.

-One of the things that is included being in a relationship with him is that he is so protective of you. Even in ways you would never imagine. Every time that you go with him to travel, he is watching you at all times and always makes you walk with him locking arms

-He is the type of man that loves to cuddle. So, every night when you both get into bed, he just holds on to you and almost makes you stay there.

-He loves spoiling you. Like a lot. whenever he goes out to travel or fight, he always makes sure to pick you up something. whether it is a dress or jewelry. Or even something to cook with if he passes it in the markets.

-He is such a gentle man with you. He would hate if you had gotten hurt because of him. That is one of his nightmares. He hates the thought of you in general in his watch getting hurt

-He also makes sure that you are never cold in the winter. He does not want you getting sick. So, he gives you one of his furs to make sure you do not get cold so easily.

[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

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Summer Rose - An Ivar the Boneless/Reader Smut Short.

Bit of smut and fluff, some softer Ivar? I was feeling a certain way about him today, so now so can you, too!

Words - 633

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Ivar is a man who wears many faces. The unflinching stare of contempt perhaps being his most famous, or the unnerving grin of a man working four steps ahead of his enemies. For you, though, your favourites are the ones he saves for when the two of you are alone.  

The look of sheer bliss as you top him is perhaps the one you love most. 

“Fuck, my love. How good you feel around my cock.” The words pour from his beautiful, full lips like wine, his hands grasped tight upon your hips while you work in serpentine against him. His thick cock ruts you fully, hitting every angle, every depth, your body cast in pure gold from the firelight, the sight of you atop him warming his heart as much as it does feed his lust.  

For this Viking, he never thought love could match the roaring flare of carnal desire, until he met you. Until you showed him, told him, made him feel it in his very bones. It mingles in waves of ebullient delight, his thumb moving to drag heat across your aching bud, sparks roaring up your spine as you cry out.  

“You are always at your most beautiful when you...” he trails off, his words deafened by your ascension, grinning with a deep chuckle as he witnesses it, your complete undoing that leaves you a shaking wreck atop him. “...when you fall apart like that for me.” 

Gathering yourself, you continue to roll your hips against him, wanting for his own pleasure to streak through him wildly, his eyes closing tightly as he groans, deep and rolling, whispering curses as the flutters of your cunt make lightning begin to flicker within his depths.  

His mouth drops open, panting hard, the icy shards that are his eyes opening to fix you with a lust drenched stare, the thickness of him splitting you wide causing pleasure to spark over your nerves, hitting the heights of a swirling tempest again with him as he fills you with thick ropes of hot spend.  

“Gods,” you breathe, fingers weaving through his as you chuckle, “I am tired now.” 

“Hardly surprising,” he pants, pulling you to him, offering kisses steeped in soft heat. “Come, love. Let me make you comfortable.” You climb from him, carefully taking to your back, Ivar pulling the pelts and blankets up over your legs, arranging the pillows plumply beneath your head. When he gazes down at you, you feel as if your heart could burst.  

He caresses your cheek, nuzzling your neck, his hand slipping down to stroke the rounded swell of your belly, shifting to kiss it. A tiny foot kicks against his mouth. “Child, you dare kick your father in the face?”  

Your laughter fills the room, Ivar prodding your bump with his finger, waiting for it. A tiny foot kicks back immediately. “She is all fire, just like her mother.”  

Ivar has stated with every confidence ever since you told him you were with child that she would be a girl. He felt it, knew it, he said, that your first would not be a son. Unlike many of his brethren who keen for an heir, he did not care an ounce that your baby would be female. “You will be a fine fighter, a fearless shieldmaiden, my little summer rose. You will be all that your mother is, and so much more. I know this, my tiny daughter. I long for the sun to grace our lands once more, for that is the time I shall meet you at last.”  

Watching him talk to your baby, seeing the look of complete adoration as he strokes your belly, you change your mind. Of the many faces Ivar wears, it is this one you love the most.  

[miss-madness67]

Mother Knows Best (Ivar)

Prompt: My arranged marriage with Ivar the Boneless was not a surprise. The surprise had been finding out he did not want to lay with me. Are the rumors of his incapabilities true? Is sex the answer to learn to love each other? I do not know. He scares me, but he is no less fascinating. That is why I decided to give him a chance. Slight AU. Ragnar does not die, neither does Aslaug. They rule side by side and decide to ally themselves with the Saxons.

Mother looks at me across the table. Her eyes are expectant, her expression unamused. She waits for me to say something; to tell her that I am already with child. But because I am not, I remain quiet.

“I would like to know my grandchild, preferably,” she says, “but it would be nice if at least I know you are with child before you leave Wessex.” She gives me a hard stare. Oh, I know she would like that, that’s the reason she has given me plenty of recommendations on how to please my husband in bed. Not that I have applied them.

A month ago, I was given the news that I was to be wed to the youngest of King Ragnar’s sons. A man I hadn’t even met and whose ruthlessness was well known. It was a political marriage. Arranged so our kingdoms would become friends instead of foes. My grandfather, King Ecbert, wanted to have a good relationship with the heathens, so he promised my hand for peace. I always knew I would be married for the good of my kingdom and not love, but that does not mean the news was less disappointing.

The wedding took place two weeks ago, right after the arrival of the Vikings. And as I approached the altar, that was the first time I laid eyes on my husband. His cold demeanor rendered me speechless, but his hard blue-eyed stare sent shivers down my spine. He was sitting on a chair waiting for me. I knew his legs were useless, so that did not surprise me. I tried not to stare during the ceremony but failed miserably. He had looked at me annoyed yet intrigued.

My father, Prince Aethelwulf, was displeased with the marriage, but he had little to no say in the matter. My mother Judith, even though she was in favor of the union, she did not agree with the choice of groom. She thought Ubbe or Sigurd would have been better candidates. King Ragnar himself had chosen Ivar, and my grandfather had agreed with the promise that he would be able to provide children. His ability to lay with a woman had many rumors, but King Ragnar had assured that Ivar was no less of a man in that matter. Not that I would know, because I had yet to lay with him.

The night of our wedding, the bedding ceremony had been canceled due to the Viking’s request. So when I entered the chambers, there was no pressure in laying with him. Yet, I expected he would have wanted me to because he is a man. That had not been the case. That night, we laid side by side in silence until the sun raised. Back then I had been grateful because I did not want to sleep with a man I barely knew, but now I have begun to question myself. Does he not find me attractive? Does he know how to lay with a woman? Is he really not physically able? Does he prefer men?

It is necessary for us to have a child in order to fortify the alliance. That is why my mother had given me tips to please him. I had yet to use them, I feared to do so. In all honesty, I had been afraid of my husband when I first heard of him, and during our wedding. I have heard how he is and I have seen how he treats people. However, that fear has receded ever since. These past two weeks he has been nothing but kind to me, even a little shy. That’s probably the reason why I have started to feel attraction towards him. That and his sharp mind. At first, I did not know how to speak his language. He has been slowly teaching me. And I have seen him playing chess with Alfred, it is honestly fascinating.

“It would be wise for your marriage if you have passion in the bedroom, darling,” my mother says.

I know she means good, and I know she is probably right, but I have to bite my tongue from mentioning her passion with my grandfather. Her marriage with my father is a mere paper. I do not wish my marriage with Ivar to be the same, despite the circumstances. But she does have a point, she has a very good relationship with my grandfather, whom she beds. Sex must be the answer to get closer to Ivar. And maybe, with time, we could learn to love each other. That is a foolish thought, but it is what motivates me to wait naked in bed. He arrives at the dormitory shortly after twelve. He has been drinking with his brothers, but all the inebriation leaves him once he sees me.

“Hello, my…” he does not like it when I call him titles, so I correct myself, “... Ivar. I have been waiting for you.” He does not say anything. Heat accumulates in my face. Does he not like what he sees? I fight the urge to cover myself and hide between the covers. His hands tighten around his crutches.

“What… What are you doing like that? What if someone other than me were to come in?” He questions, he seems angry at the idea, but his eyes do not leave my body.

“I made sure no one other than you were to come inside, my husband,” I whisper. Ivar must notice that I am not completely myself acting like this, because he looks away.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” He approaches the bed and sits down, his back to me. “I know this is an arranged marriage, we do not have to do anything that you do not want.” His voice is uninterested but his words are sweet. I hesitate.

“I know, but we are expected to bear children.” He tenses. He does not say anything, he starts to take off his leg braces. I wait patiently. The room is colder when he speaks.

“If that is what you wish this is unnecessary, you do not have to remove your camisole.” His voice is harsh and I know I said something I was not supposed to.

“It is not only about that,” I try to correct myself though my voice waivers in nervousness, “I wish… I wish for us to enjoy making children.” It is the most direct way for me to express my desire for him.

He stops what he is doing and turns around. He looks me in the eyes looking for uncertainty. I know he finds none when he drags his body towards me. His arms muscles flex and something knots in my belly. He looms over me with a hungry stare.

When he opens his mouth I think he is about to devour me but he speaks. “Do you not know the rumors? Do you not know what they say?” He does not wait for me to answer, “apparently, I can not please a woman, I can not give children, I am a useless husband.”

I do not hesitate to answer, “I do not listen to rumors, I like to verify for myself,” I put a hand on his chest and the other around his neck. “If it is false, then we shall prove them so, and if it is true, then we shall not give up until we try everything.” He looks doubtful, “I… have learned a few tricks that shall please my husband.”

His surprise is evident when he speaks, “well, I have also learned a few tricks that shall please my wife."

I smile, “then, let us learn from one another.” I do not have time to say anything else before his lips crash with mine.

It is uncertain if we will succeed this night or another, or if we will have children, or if we will learn to love each other. The only thing that I am certain of is that we care for one another. At this moment, in my husband’s arms, I feel like never before.

[starogeorgina]

Redemption

Warning: Swearing, oral sex

Pairing: Ivar × reader

1.02

“Once we lure them into position, I’ll give you the signal, then you’ll light the bastards up—Ivar stop,” you laugh, feeling his hands roam over your body. “I’m trying to help you plan a war.”

“I’m aware.”

“It’s difficult to concentrate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Ivar smirks, kissing your neck. He continues to squeeze at your breasts over your dress. His two favourite things were fucking and fighting, so talking battle strategies was hard for im. Ivar begins kissing your neck, leaving purple marks as a way of reminding others that you are his. “I’m not doing anything you don’t like.”

You turn your head and kiss him. Your lips linger as your mind begins to race with a thousand thoughts. It hadn’t been long since you lost your baby, and you hadn’t been intimate since.

Ivar rubs his finger along your cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say, kissing him again. “I want you, Ivar. I want you to do more things I like.”

He tilts his head to the side and gives you a small smile. Ivar smooths your hair out of your face, and the gaze in his eyes somehow brought you comfort; it was as if he was looking deep into your soul and knew what you were thinking. “I will not rush you, Drifa,” he says. “But I know something we can do, something we both like.”

Seeing the mischievous look on his face, you raise your brows and ask, “What's that?”

—

Ivar smirks in amusement as the sword in your hand rests at the top of his neck. He says, “You fight dirty; I’ve taught you well.”

You toss your sword to the side, pick up two axes, and hand one to Ivar. He told you that non-Viking armies didn’t see women as much of a threat; he wanted you to prove them all wrong. Ivar took great pride in coaching you in sword fighting, throwing spears, and aiming your bow and arrow.

“Perhaps one of my brothers will spar with you later.”

You pull a face and say, “Ubbe or Hvitserk. Last time I sparred with Sigurd, your mother was mad at me for hurting him.”

With a boyish smile on his face, Ivar says, “You knocked his front tooth out; it was a wonderful thing to witness.”

You’d always hated Sigurd and the way he treated Ivar and his mother. You think back to that day and how you and Sigurd got into a fight because he kept insulting your dead parents. At first, his brothers laughed until the first blood was drawn. You feel awful thinking about Hvitserk trying to separate you and accidentally backhanding him.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice Ivar talking to you until he places his hand on your waist. “What are you thinking about?"”

“The time I burst Hvitserk lip.”

“Hvitserk adores you.” Ivar throws his axe, which hits the mark on the tree. “So do Ubbe and Bjorn. As did my mother.” Ivar takes the other axe from your hand and repeats the action, hitting the mark perfectly again. “Sigurd is scared of you because he is weak and knows he cannot compete.”

“Have I told you recently how much I love you?”

Ivar blushes. “No, but I never tire of hearing it.”

You kiss him on the cheek before going to retrieve the axes so you can continue throwing them. You continue training until the sun begins to disappear behind the clouds and the sky quickly becomes dark as the weather changes quickly.

The rainfall is heavy, causing the mud to splash up onto Ivar’s face and neck while he dragged his body along the ground as you headed home. Seeing the pain in Ivar’s face, you suggest taking shelter from the rain underneath a large tree. You sink down beside Ivar and lean your head on his shoulder.

You sit in silence until Ivar lets out a deep breath and asks, “Why doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?”

“Being married to a cripple.”

You roll your eyes. Every time Ivar felt self-consciousness, he would question why anyone loved him. His insecurity became worse when his brother told him; nobody loved him, and everyone felt sorry for him. “I’ve told you to stop listening to Sigurd.”

“It’s true, though; I am a cripple. And my weaknesses are your weaknesses.”

“Your legs aren’t a weakness, Ivar. They are your greatest strength. People will always underestimate a cripple.”

Ivar opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off with a kiss. You brush your nose against his as you straddle his lap, careful not to put too much pressure on him. The feral look in Ivar’s eyes sparks something inside you; all you wanted was for him to devour you. “You are Ivar the boneless, the strongest and most violent man I’ve ever met.”

Ivar grips your jaw with a devilish glint in his eyes. “You think I’m violent?”

“I think you're the most bloodthirsty Viking to ever exist.”

“Stand up.”

Following his order, you stand up. Seeing Ivar lower his trousers so his cock can spring free, you pull up the bottom of your dress. He grins, clasping his hands around your thighs. Ivar brings you in closer so he can put his mouth on your aching core. You let out a moan when you fell his warm tongue swipe over your folds before turning his attention to your clit.

“Mmmm.. Ivar, just like that,” you encouraged, “please don’t stop!”

He sucks and flicks his tongue on your abused clit, speeding up his actions until you cum, legs shaking around his head. When you come down from your high, you kneel down and twirl your tongue over the head of Ivar’s hard cock before taking him full into your mouth. He uses one hand to grip your hair, while Ivar uses the other to pinch your nipple, as Drool dribbles down your chin while you bob your head. Tears roll down your cheeks as you gag, feeling his cock start to jolt in your mouth. Ivar tightens his grip as spurts of hot cum shoot down your throat.

He grunts, “Swallow all of it like a good wife.”

Sitting up, you wipe the saliva away with the back of your hand. Ivar shuffles to put his cock back into his trousers. You kiss the palm of Ivar’s hand when he cups your face. “We should get back; it’s almost time for supper, and we both need to bathe.”

—

You take another mouthful of ale as your eyes jump between the brothers sitting around the table. There was a weird atmosphere, and you were trying to figure out why. Ubbe and Ivar feasted, laughed, and drank ale while Hvitserk looked nervous. He kept glancing at Sigurd, who had been smirking most of the night. When you returned, you had bathed and changed into a clean dress, while Ivar remained in the same mud-covered clothes. The only reason his hands were free from dirt was because he washed your back and hair.

Sigurd suddenly burst out laughing, gaining the attention of his brothers. “Do you all remember when Margrethe said Ivar couldn’t pleasure a woman? Well, today I found out that’s not true.”

You and Ivar look at each other and ask, “What?”

“Me and Hvitserk were coming back from a hunt and saw-”

“I did not look,” Hvitserk says quickly, not letting his brother finish his sentence. You patted the back of his hand; although he was a menace at times, Hvitserk was respectful and would never deliberately watch such a thing.

“Enough,” Ubbe says. “We will hear no more of this.”

Sigurd ignores his elder brother and continues talking. “I’m just sharing that I’m happy for Ivar. At least it can finally put the rumors of Drifa carrying another man’s child to rest.”

“It was you who told others that!”

He shrugs. “I stand corrected; I can tell others I know Ivar gets hard because I caught you with his dick in your mouth.”

Ubbe and Hvitserk stare at him, unimpressed.

Tears of embarrassment swell in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You glance at your husband to see his reaction to his brother's taunting. Ivar peels the last bit of meat from the bones of his meal off with his teeth, then tosses the bare animal bone onto the table. “What kind of man talks about his brother's wife in that way?”

The amused smile drops from Sigurd’s face, “I’m—”

“I swear to the gods that if I ever hear you talk about my beautiful Drifa in such a way again, brother, you’ll leave me no other choice but to kill you.”

The room falls silent as Ivar’s threat lingers in the air. Sigurd looks to his brothers, but when neither of them say anything, he storms off, leaving the rest of you to enjoy the remainder of your night.

[skolworthy]

Time Knows No Bounds - Part Five

Warnings: Finally, the sexual tension you have been waiting for! Some NSFW parts are present, so please read responsibly and don't get caught. ;)

Info: When the font is like this, it means Ragnar is speaking in his native tongue. When he is speaking English it will just be italicized. The reader's text is just normal and anyone other than Ragnar or the reader will be in bold.

Spoilers: None, because this is completely my creation (apart from the character/legend of Ragnar Lothbrok and other historical names) it has nothing to really do with the tv series.

Plot: Ragnar, in this series, is unattached to anyone romantically. No Lagertha or Aslaug or any other baby momma's out there. No children. He has met and learned with Athelstan, because that contributes to his ability to speak with the reader. Other than that, he's just a simple gorgeous viking that lives on his farm in Kattegat, dreaming of adventure.

Summary: This will be in Ragnar's POV again. -A rude interruption leads to your freedom from the utility closet, but will the opportunity to get this close ever present itself again? Time will only tell.

--------

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

It seemed that there was destined to be an interruption at every time that he attempted to get closer to y/n. First the 'phone' that she had in her pocket back in the bedroom she had given him, chiming when the two of them had just started to lean into one another. Now to the door flying open when he had actually began to make contact with her lips. Those lips that had long been on his mind from the moment she first gave him a smirk back at him in return to his. Ragnar had been enthralled with y/n from the moment his eyes landed upon her after arriving to this time period, even more so than the advanced world around him. Y/n was by far the most breathtaking woman he had ever seen and her sassy personality and humor caused him to grow even more attracted to her as the hours flew by. What really drew him to her, was her sense of nobility: she was willing to do what she could to help him even though she had no real reason to. She could have left him there and been on her way and who knew what sort of trouble he would have found himself in. Ragnar was quite good at getting himself into trouble, and being here alone, he had no one to get him out of it. Yet y/n was adamant in helping him to fit in, and learn the way of things in this time, while also doing what she could to figure out just how he got there and how he could get back. Perhaps it was a good thing that they had been interrupted from their kiss? If he was to end up going home one day...would it not be better to avoid the temptation that y/n presented? Ragnar knew that it was silly to believe this, for they had just met, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before he ended up falling madly in love with her.

The small balding man from earlier was standing there with raised eyebrows, though the two of you had pulled apart quickly when the door had opened. The look in the man's eye told them that he had still seen their close proximity and their flushed faces no doubt gave away what had been about to happen. Y/n began to explain the situation and the man just smiled and held up his hand. "No need for explanation, this is honestly the most tame thing I have come across when opening this door." he said, as his eyes cast elsewhere, a vacant and disturbed expression on his face. "I will have maintenance fix it tonight during their shift, mark my words. It's only a matter of time before I end up getting myself locked in here and I can tell you, no one would come looking for the boss." he said with a chuckle. Y/n gave a small smile and then glanced at Ragnar before she grabbed the broom and headed out, to which he followed after her, giving a nod of thanks to the man, even though he was not 100% thankful for the interruption. He followed her back to the exhibit where he watched y/n begin to sweep up the little bits of paper, pottery and other things that were scattered across the floor. He watched her silently for a moment before he began to open his mouth to say something, but she stopped him by handing him the broom. "I need to go and find the dust pan, can you finish up for me?" she asked with a small smile on her lips. How could he say no? He gave a nod of his head and then watched her walk away, his eyes slowly roaming down her body to her backside before he sighed and looked down at the bits that still needed to be swept into a pile.

When she came back they helped one another finish sweeping and dumping the dust pan into the trash before finally they were finished and the exhibit, hopefully, looked good as new. He watched as she went around one final time to each part of the exhibit and adjusted it slightly, before she finally gave a nod and came back over to him. "That's better." she said. Ragnar smirked at her and then set the broom down against the wall. "What is next?" Y/n smirked back at him and then said that they were free to do whatever for the day, since it was still technically her day off. "This is a whole new world for you, what would you like to do?" Ragnar's mind thought back to the moment in the closet, where he had y/n pressed up against the wall with his body, his lips so close to capturing hers as he had been longing for. Yeah, there was no denying that that was what he wanted to explore right now. Yet as he looked at y/n as she stood there smiling at him with a tilted head, the way that the sunlight from the skylights above danced across her hair and lit up her eyes some, he knew that there was something more he wanted. He gestured for them to head out of the museum and as they did, his eyes searching around him at the vast city and all of its massive structures of metal and brick and...noise. So. Much. Noise. Ragnar suddenly felt overwhelmed and he rubbed the back of his neck uneasily before he felt y/n place a gentle hand on his shoulder and he looked down at her. He gave a smile and then slid his hands into the pockets of his pants...er...jeans, he believed she called them? "What is your most favorite place to go in the city?" he asked. "That is what I would like to see." he said, his smile forming into his trademark smirk.

This seemed to take y/n by surprise, her eyebrows lifting to the heaven's ever so slightly before coming back down and a smile played upon her lips. "Oh." she said before she pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "Alright, but we will need to grab some provisions first." she said, which altogether confused him. Provisions for what? She lifted her finger and wagged it in motion for him to follow her, he did not hesitate. They soon found themselves back inside her home, where he watched as she went to the kitchen and began to rummage around in the refrigerator, setting things onto the counter before diving back in again. "What are you doing?" Ragnar asked as he finally began to make his way toward the kitchen. "Do me a favor and go grab that blanket that's on the back of the couch." She said while still halfway within the box. He paused, his eyes scanning the room until they caught sight of the large blanket that was draped over the dark blue three cushioned piece of furniture and he picked it up, folding it a bit. He brought it into the kitchen and stood there as she began to put together some sort of food, that contained meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato and placed between two slices of bread. Huh. Ragnar leaned forward some, looking over her shoulder as she cut them in half and placed the pieces into a container and closed the lid. Then she grabbed a bottle of something yellow and a jar of something white, to which she placed it within a large basket. She then grabbed some bottles of water and put them inside as well, along with plates that appeared to be made out of paper and some cutlery too and then she stood there thinking for a moment before she turned and looked at him. "I think that is all we will need." "For what?" "You'll see." He groaned, letting his head fall back a bit as he did and she chuckled, hoisting the basket to him for him to carry and he lifted his head back up, stared down at her silently before pursing his lips and taking the basket from her. "Fine."

Once again he found himself within one of those so called 'cars' and they were on their way to wherever y/n had planned on taking him. The trip did not take as long as he had thought it would, still, he was just as mesmerized by the surroundings they passed as he was the first time he had been in a 'car'. They came down a path that wound a little way, trees on either side in neat rows, flowers at full bloom within their thick foliage. Ragnar leaned closer to the window in hopes of seeing exactly where they were going until the car then came to a stop and he blinked, turning to look over at y/n as she began to open the door. "We will have to walk from here." she said with a smile, a dimple forming at the corner of her mouth that he had not noticed before but oh how he was enamored by it. He swatted her hand away from the basket when she reached for it as it sat between them, taking it in his own hand and gave her a smirk as he exited the car and walked around to where she stood waiting for him. He followed after her as they continued on to a smaller path that branched off from where the car had left them and he couldn't help but let his gaze wander from his surroundings, to roaming up and down y/n's body slowly as she walked ahead of him. From the way that her hair blew slightly in the breeze causing it to dance around her shoulders, to the way that her hips would sway as she walked. Ragnar's eyes couldn't keep from focusing on her backside longer than what was probably appropriate, but he just simply could not help himself. When she turned to look at him over her shoulder, his eyes quickly averted elsewhere before she could catch on, though when she looked back ahead, his eyes would trail right back and a smirk would form on his face.

They finally stepped off of the pathway that she had been leading them down and began a climb uphill until they reached the very top, where she then took the blanket from on top of the basket and threw it outward, allowing it to settle upon the grass. Then she lowered herself down to smooth it out, then she took the basket from his hand and set it off to the side of the blanket before standing back up. Ragnar had been about to sit down upon the blanket, thinking that was what she was aiming to do as well, but she had stopped him with a hand to his shoulder and gestured for him to look in a direction off ahead of them. He turned his gaze and she smiled at his reaction as his mouth parted ever so slightly at the sight of their view. Vast gardens and mazes lined the way below them, colorful blooms of almost every shade all intricately positioned within the maze and walkways. What truly caused Ragnar's mouth to part was the castle that was at the end of the mazes and gardens, perfectly placed like it had hopped off of the pages of a storybook. "Rosenborg Castle and gardens. One of my most favorite places." she said softly as she stood a little closer to him, tilting her head a bit as she looked up at him and then out toward the scenery. "With my love for history, this place never disappoints to fill my head with wonder." Y/n gave a soft sigh and Ragnar finally turned and looked down at her, a smile upon his face instead of his trademark smirk. "It is...quite amazing. There are not many castles back home." He lowered himself down to the blanket as she did, bringing his knees up and letting his arms drape over them lazily as he watched her begin to fish out the items from within her basket and set them out upon the blanket. "What do you call all of...this?" he said, gesturing before him at all of the food, plates, bottles of water and other things. Y/n smiled and opened the container and pulled out the bread with meat and cheese between it and set it upon a plate, handing it to him. "A picnic. That's a sandwich." she added, when he opened his mouth and pointed at the unfamiliar food item before him. His eyes lifted to hers for a moment, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly in question and he began to open his mouth once more. "No, not that kind of witch." Again, beating him to the punch.

Ragnar eyed the sandwich with suspicion at first, then watched as y/n pulled out the jar of white stuff and the bottle of yellow and pointed them to the sandwich. "Lift the bread up and I will add some of both. Mustard. Mayonnaise." she said, holding up each of the items as she named them and he just stared at them before finally doing as she said. "Something the vikings didn't get to experience. A world of flavorful food." she said, clicking her tongue in sadness. When she was finished applying the mustard and mayonnaise, Ragnar let the bread fall back down and then brought the sandwich up to his mouth and bit into it. The moment everything hit his tongue, he paused and his eyes drifted to the basket that sat behind y/n. "Is...there more in there?" he asked, after having swallowed the bite he had in his mouth. Y/n chuckled and nodded, stating she had packed several sandwiches. She then pulled out a small and rather noisy bag and he watched as she opened it, leaning forward and looking into the back as she then pulled out a flat piece of..something, and then popped it in her mouth and he could hear the sound of her crunching it. He raised an eyebrow as she continued to crunch on that piece, from what he had seen it did not look at all hard, but yet the sound was quite...loud. He smirked and then she allowed him to grab one from the bag as well and when he placed it within his mouth, he was blown away from the flavor and when he bit down on it, it would have startled him with how crunchy it was, had he not already known from overhearing y/n earlier. "What is this thing?" he asked, still crunching which made her laugh out loud. "It's called a potato chip and there are so many flavors out there." This intrigued him greatly, the fact that this delicious and crunchy form of heaven was made out of a potato and he then asked y/n exactly how they were made and what these other flavors would be. The fact that the list of flavors went on, and he literally had no idea what more than half of them were, blew his mind though she did promise to help him form a quest to try every flavor possible.

Eventually all of the food was gone and now the two of them were left with just sitting upon the quilt she had brought and watching the shadows grow longer as the day grew ever onward. Y/n told Ragnar the history of the castle that was before them as they sat upon the hill and watched people come and go across the grounds before them. How they would venture inside of it and y/n explained how it was open to the public, everyone able to tour the palace and all of its wonders. This intrigued Ragnar greatly, especially the fact that people could just waltz into the castle like that and this caused y/n to laugh. "Well, there are not that many monarchies still around anymore and even then, their power is nothing like it once was. The average person has more power these days than royalty, honestly. Governments were created, people can vote and choose how they want things to be. It's a very different world now." she said as she leaned back on her hands, her legs stretched out before her as she looked at the castle while the sun cast down upon it in a way that made it almost look like it was glowing. Ragnar glanced over at her, not being able to help himself from doing so, his own hands holding him upright as he leaned back upon them as well. He took in just how she was looking at the castle and the grounds that lay out before them, how her eyes showed just how much she admired the history that she knew, the architecture that the castle boasted even after the centuries that it had been standing there. His chest swelled a little as he gazed at her, the way the light would dance across her face as sun hit against the surface of the small lake that was in front of the castle. He finally cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. "Why are you helping me?" he asked finally after a few minutes of silence.

Y/n was silent for awhile after that question, but as he watched, he could see her face showing signs of deep thought. "Because there is a reason behind all of this happening: you suddenly coming into the future and us meeting." she paused for a moment and then looked over at him. "I want to know what that reason is." Their eyes locked for a moment, Ragnar's heart suddenly skipping at beat just from that and then y/n smirked at him. "Plus, you seem like a trouble maker. Someone's gotta keep an eye on you." At this point, Ragnar could not help himself. He leaned toward her, his left hand reaching up and placing itself against the back of her neck gently and with it he brought her toward him. The soft gasp she gave in response silencing as his mouth captured it, his lips softly pressing against hers at first before they began to guide hers in a subtly sensual dance. He could feel her hesitation in the beginning, from the way her body went stiff but after a few moments he felt her relax, give in and she began to move her lips against his as well. The sensation of her lips moving against his caused that low burning heat he had within his lower stomach to engulf into a raging inferno, escalating as her hand made its' way to the side of his face and cupped it for a moment before moving behind his head, to the back of his neck, her fingers digging slightly into the base of his hairline. Ragnar continued the kiss, slowly deepening it as he then moved his body closer to hers and began to maneuver her downward toward the blanket they were seated upon, his hand cradling her neck to guide the way. He moved so that way he was somewhat on top of her, his lips dancing against hers until they began to venture along her jawline and behind her ear, his mind and body reeling from the soft sounds of agreement that came from her mouth as he did.

The hand that he had been using to keep himself from putting all of his weight upon her, slid around her waist and then began to travel toward one of her breasts when suddenly he felt her hand catch hold of his wrist, stopping his movement. Ragnar paused and then slowly pulled his face away slightly, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow. "We should stop before someone sees." she said, which caused him to lift his had further and scan the area with his eyes before looking back down at her. "No one is watching." he said with a smirk, starting to lean back down toward her mouth, but she put a hand against his chest, once again stopping him. Y/n gave a soft chuckle and began to sit up, pushing him upward as well with the hand that was upon his chest. "I'm sure where you are from, people just fuck in the middle of the village and no one spares a passing glance, but here it is quite different. We don't need to end up in jail." Now sitting up, she began to pack up the items around her and put them into the basket. "Perhaps it's time to head back home?" she said, her eyes lifting to meet his. Ragnar quickly stood up and began to carefully roll up the blanket as she gave a soft laugh and moved from on top of it so that he could place it into the basket as well. Soon a taxi was hailed and the two of them were riding along in silence that was so thick that the tension could be cut with a knife. Glances were stolen. Lips were chewed upon slightly. Ragnar's knee was bouncing uncontrollably as he let hand rest there, fingers gripping into his flesh, his mind imagining that his hand was kneading one of those impressive mounds she had for breasts. Could this taxi possibly move any slower?

Finally back at y/n's apartment, they worked together to put away any left overs and other items before y/n stated that she was going to take a shower and Ragnar gave a nod, figuring that he would just lie down upon his bed since he still did not really understand how to work the 'TV'. He followed after her down the hallway and as he did, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her as she was before him. The way her back curved, down to that luscious backside...the feelings from earlier began to swell back up within him with a vengeance. Ragnar's pace quickened by a few steps and he then took hold of y/n's waist and turned her toward him suddenly. He moved her against the wall, pushing her up against it as he leaned down and claimed her lips with his once again. Any gasps or noise she may have made in reaction to this sudden movement was swallowed down by Ragnar as he pressed himself against her, his hands sliding down her sides and squeezing lightly. Y/n gave a soft moan against his mouth and this caused him to give a bit of a growl as he then moved his lips to her neck, one of his hands sliding down to cup against her bottom and giving it a hardy squeeze. Ragnar felt her fingers curl a bit into his hair and grip hard, which made him suddenly move his hand from her bottom down to that thigh and he lifted her leg up and wrapped it around his hip as he pressed his growing excitement against her. When he felt her grind against him slightly, Ragnar all but lost control and began to bite and suck against the skin of her collarbone as he used his other hand to move up under her shirt and cupped one of her breasts, giving it a firm squeeze after. Y/n's hand took hold of his braid and pulled his head back up to where she began to kiss him fervently, her tongue even darting across his bottom lip. Ragnar groaned, pressing himself more against her as his body pinned her against the wall, giving his hips a roll while holding there and then grinning against her mouth when she let out an involuntary moan. He then removed his hand from under her shirt and slid it behind her to where he cupped her other thigh and brought it up around his hip as well. He held her like that for a moment against the wall, devouring her lips, biting and sucking against that bottom lip of hers until he then moved away from the wall, carrying her down the hallway and through the doorway of his room.

Their lips never parted as he carried her, not even as he came over to the bed and lowered her down onto it, moving to hover over her. Ragnar took the time to lift her shirt up and over her head, letting his eyes roam over her flawless skin, his eyes hesitating on the odd looking bodice that was clasped around her perfect breasts (he made a mental note to ask about this later). He then began to kiss down the side of her neck, letting his lips dance across her collarbone once more before he moved them further down until he came to the tops of her breasts. He placed light kisses there at first...then he began to lick, moving the piece of fabric that kept her sensitive bud hidden from him. Once it was revealed, he took it into his mouth gently and sucked on it lightly, his eyes lifting toward y/n's face as she gasped. Her back arched upward from the bed and he let one of his arms wrap around her waist to keep her in that position as he then let his other hand begin to slide down the front of her pants, now that there was room with the angle she was in. Ragnar moaned against her skin as he swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucking and gently biting down as his fingers descended toward his objective. His index finger had just brushed against her ready clit when the sound of numerous chimes echoed around them. He paused, lifting his eyes toward her as she gave a groan. "Someone's at the door." she said, breathless. He felt her body begin to tense with the movement of trying to sit herself up, but he held her down with his palm against her pelvic bone and his mouth quickly moving to the other breast as his hand moved away the fabric from that nipple as well. She gasped, arching upward again and gave quick and eager attention to this breast for a moment before lifting his face up some and looking at her. "They can come back another day." he said with smirk, before he began to move his fingers back to her clit...when the chiming began again, this time more frequently. Ragnar gave a loud groan and let his forehead rest against her chest for a moment, before he felt her hand gently begin to push against his chest and he reluctantly rolled off of her and onto his back upon the bed, staring at the ceiling with annoyance.

Y/n gave him an apologetic look before she slipped her shirt back on over her head and adjusted her hair before heading out into the hallway and toward the front door. Ragnar waited for a moment, allowing certain body parts to adjust to the unwelcome interruption, before he pushed himself off of the bed and headed to the living room. He stopped in the doorway of the hall when he found y/n standing by the front door, now closed, with a young man standing beside her. The man cast him a look with a raised eyebrow, to which Ragnar did not hesitate to give back until his eyes moved to y/n as she spoke. "Ragnar, this is my older brother, Kyle."

Gif Credit: @captainalicen

Tag List: @cullenswife @hypocritic-trash-baby @blueeclipsepaperstudent @huskyhunnyny @wolfy1712 @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @mssbridgerton @menari @kcd15

(If I have forgotten anyone in the tag list, please let me know and I will fix it! <3 )

[aikaterini-drag]

Embrace of Two Hearts

Summary: Harald has been traveling, negotiating alliances but now that he is back, he can’t take his eyes off of his wife —as well as his hands off of her.

Pairing: King Harald Sigurdson x Queen Fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, kisses, implied smut, besotted Harald.

It had been a long time since Harald Sigurdsson had left Norway to build alliances and trading negotiations with the surrounding kingdoms. The matter had required his attention and he had been forced to leave you behind so you could take care of the kingdom in his absence. You were his Queen, the person he trusted and loved the most.

After meeting with various wealthy yarls and merchants, Harald’s plans had been prosperous; he’d stricken deals to trade goods and boost the income of his kingdom.

After almost two months at traveling, he was finally back.

Harald hadn’t blown the horns to make his arrival known.

He wanted today to be a surprise.

He wanted to see your face light up and hear your happy laughter as you reached him.

So after a light meal and a much needed bath, he headed to one of the villages where he was told you had gone shopping.

With his hood pulled low over this face, he strolled along the bustling Viking village, and when he saw you, his eyes fixed on you. You hadn’t taken notice of his presence; you were engaged in conversation with some of the women selling silks and spices. Resting his great frame on one of the stalls, he took his time and watched you for a few seconds. When waiting became too much to handle, he slipped back his hood and approached you.

A loud gasp left your lips when you finally saw him. You blinked, as in disbelief and when he smiled invitingly, all dimples and sunshine, you rushed into his arms. Your husband was back! Oh, how you’ve missed him, craved him! You’ve been exchanging letters with him during his travels but nothing compared to him holding you, touching you. And there he was, tall and handsome, wearing his marvelous regal tunic and leather pants, his fur cloak, his handsome face forming a warm smile.

“Ah, there’s my beautiful queen!” he said when you practically jumped into his waiting arms.

"Oh, Harald!" You pressed your lips against his in a long kiss. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back.”

“Surprise,” he said, his lips stretched delightfully.

“Oh, how I missed you! Is everything alright? The negotiations?”

“Everything’s perfect. I’ll tell you about my feats later.” He cupped your face, his hungry eyes taking in your beauty. “Let me look at you, have my fill of you.”

“Did you miss me so much, my lord husband?”

“Only a little, my lady wife.”

"Only a little?" You raised a brow. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I lied. I missed you. Painfully. Deeply. Hard.”

You laughed. “You debauched Viking.”

He grinned. “I've hoped to distract you from your shopping. Is it working?”

You fluttered your eyelashes. “Only if you kiss me again.”

Smiling in that stunning mischievous smile of his, he lowered his lips to yours, his tongue dancing with yours wetly. The touch was too swift for your liking but since you were still in public—and everyone was staring… you drew back softly. Harald locked your hands together and led the way back to your longhouse. You walked through the hall, with him stealing kisses and whispering sweet words to you.

When he had you in the solitude of your room, he scooped you up and dropped you onto the bed. You giggled as you bounced stop the furs and pillows. He joined you, a thick knee climbing onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. And then he was all over you, his strong body draped over your slender frame. He watched you with eyes ablaze with the passion, his lips parted. He brought his hands to caress your cheek, his knuckles tracing your skin lovingly.

“What is it, King Harald? What has you so enthralled?” you teased, leaning into his touch.

“You,” he said simply. “My wife… my beautiful wife who outshines even the finest jewels.”

You kissed him lightly. “I’m not as charming as my strong and courageous husband.”

“I disagree. You are achingly beautiful and perfect. And I am not in the least charming.”

“Oh, you're charming. Impossibly charming.” You claimed his lips and he moaned. “Your charm is as sharp as your sword.”

Harald grinned. “My love, my sword only yields to you. Sharp and ready to service you.”

“You didn’t just say that!”

He kissed your forehead, however, his hands were skillfully dragging up your gown. “What are you thinking, my mischievous wife?”

“What are you thinking, my mischievous husband?”

“I’m thinking I missed the feel of you. And that I want you,” he said and rolled his hips gently, and even with the layers of clothes, his groin pressed hard against her center.

Whining softly, you slipped your hands under his tunic to feel his warm skin. “Me, too. It has been so long.”

“Hm… I have been denied your warmth but no more.”

“Make love to me?”

“All day and night, my love.”

He pulled you close and kissed you deeply and fervently, lips meeting, tongues brushing. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving nothing but your love and passion. Clothes were tossed away, skin touched skin, sweat tricked like little diamonds and then came bliss.

[bjornswoman]

Vikings Masterlist

Bjorn Ironside

Mine

Afraid of losing you

Heart's healer

His night

Precious

Arrows

Blue piercing eyes

I love you

Zinnia

False promises

Ubbe

His dark side

Jealous

Secret

Just listen

His bride

Sick girl

Little girl

My enemy and me*

Hvitserk

Goddess

One of his women

Betrayed

Best friends

Crazy and mad

Lies* (remake) / Lies*

Fake wedding

Worth it

My prisoner

Ivar the Boneless

Mad about you

Last night, Back to you

Break

Feelings

Crimes of love

Games and conflicts

Jealous girl

Right person wrong time

Photograph

Toxic I, II

Destruction*

Harald Finehair

Promise

Allies

Live for me

Free with you

Shieldmaiden's secret

[undiscovered-horizon]

"She is not a bird" - Hvitserk x Reader

SUMMARY: In Eddas, every great warrior falls in love with a Valkyrie - a winged goddess equally beautiful and imposing. Hvitserk finds his after a battle as she's stitching wounds and bringing comfort to those who will not see another dawn.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k

In a colourful dress, she busses around, Time and time she turns her head, gives a smile, You could swear you saw her wings yesterday, How she hid them under the dress, But she’s not a bird, Can’t you see? She is not a bird.

Hvitserk has no interest in medicine or healing. Despite that, he has found himself watching one of the healers as she’s running back and forth between beds. She’s been at it for hours now and Hvitserk begins to wonder how come she’s not tired yet. Her feet and hands are equally quick as they had been when they arrived at the camp after the battle. The mesmerising glint in her eyes, something between curiosity and adoration, is still just as bright. Whenever one of the wounded warriors wants to talk to her, she sits at the edge of their bed. Her head nods gently before her lips curl into a reassuring smile and she says something in return. Maybe she’ll even chuckle at something. From where he’s standing, Hvitserk can’t make out her words but he can quite clearly see the faces of the people she’s talking to and it makes his curiosity consume him entirely to know what words turn agony into peace.

Lost in his own thoughts, the young Viking doesn’t notice jarl Friedgeir approaching him. 

“Enchanting, isn’t she?” he asks with a smirk. He’s seen this scenario one too many times to have any doubts about what Hvitserk is thinking about. Friedgeir himself has been in that very same position before.

Friedgeir Esrason is nimble for his age. White and silver hair circles his tired face like a halo. Sun-damaged skin makes him appear even older, although fuller of life. It’s a testimony of long days spent on adventures, seeing what the world has to offer. Despite nearing grandfather’s age, his torso is broad and his arms are about the size of a shieldmaiden’s thigh. Brass bracelets clink every time he moves his hands. The purple material of his tunic is clearly worn out, tearing in places of the most friction.

“She is,” Hvitserk admits.

Jarl puts his heavy hand on Hvitserk’s shoulder. For a moment, the young warrior wonders if Friedgeir could actually crush his bones should he squeeze his fingers a little tighter. 

“Can I entrust a secret to you, son of Ragnar?” Friedgeir asks in a low tone. His grey eyes look around the two of them as though expecting to find a prying set of ears. Everyone besides them appeared too preoccupied with their own duties and worries to care about the gossip shared between the Jarl and the famous Lothbrok boy.

Hvitserk looks at the older man with a frown.

“My brothers and I have risked our lives for your cause, Jarl Friedgeir,” he reminds the ruler. “I have no interest in breaking your trust. You know that already.”

“Good.” Friedgeir pats Hvitserk’s shoulder. He must be unaware of his strength as the gentle slaps are actually quite forceful, making Hvitserk answer his own question about crushing bones. Friedgeir can definitely turn someone’s skeleton into dust with a squeeze. “My wife mustn’t ever hear what I’m about to tell you. That girl…” he makes a pause and points his finger at the healer, “I think she might be a bird.”

Taken aback, Hvitserk looks up and down the Jarl.

“Did the Swedes hit you on the head?” he asks half-heartedly.

“I wish it was that. But no.” Friedgeir laughs bitterly and shakes his head. A shadow of melancholy flies past his sun-damaged face only to reside inside his silver eyes as a teary glint. “I always knew there was something strange about her but I came to understanding only after seeing the great viziers of the East and their pets locked in golden cages.”

Hvitserk glances towards the healer. His eyes follow her like hawk in hopes of some enlightenment that would make Friedgeir’s words clearer to him. Alas, she appears as she did before - enticing and human.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t understand.”

The Jarl lets out a sigh.

“Just look, dear Hvitserk. See the colourful dress like a parrot’s feathers.” Hvitserk has never heard of something called a parrot, so he is left to assume that they must look nothing like the birds in Norway. “And look at men’s faces when she talks to them. Pain and suffering change into hope and peace. The only time I’ve seen that was when one of the viziers asked his angry guests to listen to his oriole singing. After an hour, no one remembered what they were fighting about.”

Time as if slows down as Hvitserk is watching the healer sit on the edge of a cot belonging to a dying man. She holds his hand tightly and tirelessly wipes cold sweat from his forehead. The warrior is stuttering, fever and pain making his wants incomprehensible. The woman sitting beside him only nods her head, offering a warm smile and a short response. Soon, the man falls limp. His eyes turn blank as his head rolls lifelessly to the side. The healer squeezes the corpse’s hand and only then gets up to continue her work. A pair of healthy warriors wrap up the body in blankets only to carry it away, to the place where a great pyre will burn after nightfall.

Hvitserk is more intelligent than the jarl. More perceptive. He’s seen geese flying southwards when winter was coming, only to come back after snow thaws. But not her - she stayed until the warriors’ skin turned cold and grey. Let go of dead hands only after the heart stopped, never earlier.

“She’s not a bird,” the young Lothbrok speaks up. Friedgeir looks at him curiously. “Can’t you see?” he asks with a chuckle on his tongue. “She must be a Valkyrie, leading fallen warriors to the gates of Odin's hall.”

The Jarl only nods slowly, pondering Hvitserk’s words. 

“If she is, perhaps death isn’t a too high price to be by her side.”

But he’s too young to be this patient and Hvitserk has to find a reason to be beside her now.

You’re taken aback when someone suddenly takes the wooden crate from your hands. The unexpected helper reveals himself to be none other but Hvitserk with a playful grin on his face. Despite giving all he could in the battle, just hours prior, he appears to still be vigorous as though the fight was a mere warm-up.

The man puts the heavy crate on his shoulder, securing it with one arm. What has given you backpain and cold sweat, seems like no chore to him. The Ragnarsons really are a different strain.

“Where do you want this?” he asks casually.

“At the pyre.” You point in the vague direction of where the bodies will be burned. “Illness thrives within the old, used dressings.”

Hvitserk begins wandering to the place you have pointed out and, not sure why, you begin to follow him. His strides are long and sure, his breathing calm and steady. He hardly fits the image of a man who had to fight like a rabid dog to survive just earlier that day.

“Are you not tired afer the battle?” you ask him. Confusion slips past your words.

“I am.” Hvitserk glances at you. It’s a quick look but you manage to notice him staring you up and down. “But I thought you might need help. You’ve been tending to the wounded for hours.”

A melodic, light chuckle escapes your lips.

“You’ve been watching me?”

His playful half-grin turns into a genuine smile. Staring at the road ahead, he almost looks bashful.

“I have a habit of admiring enticing things,” Hvitserks admits.

You feel your cheeks burning at the nonchalant compliment but you don’t let him notice that. Neither do you let his sweet words distract you.

“Then you must lead a busy, beautiful life.”

The man’s voice seems faraway and absent as he answers, as though his mind is suddenly occupied with vivid daydreams:

“Not yet.”

The noise of the camp is inaudible now. Only pine trees and wild berries accompany Hvitserk and you. A murder of crows suddenly takes flight as you pass by. Their cawing echoes through the empty forest.

You can’t quite put a finger on this sensation but something about Hvitserk makes you feel warm and calm inside. It’s the same feeling one experiences when sitting in front of a warm hearth after spending long hours in the cold. When the blood begins flowing again and the relief of not freezing to death is forgotten, the warmth and safety make one sleepy and giddy. But how can a man make you feel the same as a fireplace on a cold night?

Hvitserk sets the crate down with a low thud. The sound shakes you awake from your thoughts. A strong, putrid smell of blood, fresh wood and animal fat fills your nostrils. Even after all those years, it never gets easier to prepare people for their final journey.

“Thank you,” you begin awkwardly. Some more anxious part of you is suddenly terrified that he will somehow learn of your thoughts about him. “I don’t know if I could have carried it by myself all the way here.”

His lips curve into a sly grin and you can tell he’s about to weave a string of charming words but something about him distracts you instantly. Hvitserk’s shirt, once greyish-beige, is now brown and crimson. Not thinking much, you suddenly grab his arm. He doesn’t even get a chance to protest when you roll up his sleeve to reveal a, re-opened wound.

“Your hand is bleeding,” you state.

Hvitserk is unsure whether your stern gaze scares him or excites.

“It’s nothing.”

He tries to roll his sleeve back down but you swat his arm away. Pushing down on his shoulder, you force him to sit down on the ground with you.

“Well, it’s definitely going to scar,” you say quietly as you inspect the deep cut in his skin. “But the good news is, some women like men with scars. I know I do.”

You take out a sewing needle made from animal bone. For practicality, you’re used to wearing it pinned somewhere in your clothing. After all, one can never know when they might need it like when a handsome, charming Viking suddenly needs his wound stitched. Gods work in mysterious ways, truly…

A drop of blood drips from the wound each time you push the needle through the pale skin. Hvitserk is impressively collected - he only grunts a few times and clenches his teeth. 

“All done,” you whisper more to yourself than him. In a quick, mechanical manner you wipe the skin of his arm again and roll down the sleeve of his shirt. 

You’re standing up when Hvitserk decides he’s not quite done being the apple of your eye:

“How hurt does a man have to be for you to stay around longer?”

As though he didn’t just get stabbed eigh times in his cut and bruised arm, he’s staring at you with than same insufferable mischieviousness that you’ve grown to love so much. Sometimes you wonder whether this is exactly the reason he’s never had trouble charming women.

“A broken rib would do it,” you say with a shrug. “Or you could just ask.”

Suddenly, Hvitserk jumps to his feet. A newfound fire is burning inside him - a flame known only to those, whose affections are returned.

“Please?”

Jokingly, you frown at him.

“I didn’t know the Lothbroks knew such words,” you say in a surprised tone.

You feel his fingers dragging up your arm until his palm gently brushes against your cheek. The skin of his hand is dry and calloused, standing in a stark opposition to its owner.

“We hold it for special occasions.” Hvitserk’s voice is low, almost raspy.

“And me standing here is somehow special?”

“You don’t even know,” he whispers. His breath is hot against your cheeks. But how can a man make you feel the same as a fireplace on a cold night?

“Then tell me.”

At that moment, he knows he will have his entire life to remind you just how special you are to him; he will have his whole saga to love a Valkyrie.

[multific]

In Love with a Monster

Ivar the Boneless x Reader

A/N: Dedicated to the one and only @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage, you told your husband was a monster.

"He is a monster, yet you want me to marry him?!"

"It is best for our kingdom. And it is final, you will marry Ivar!" your father's words sent shivers down your spine. You have been arguing and trying to reason with him for the past hours to no avail.

Your father was a stubborn man, ever since you lost your mother, it got worse.

But having you marry a Viking? 

He said it was to ensure the relationship since Vikings were great at fights.

He explained that soon, a carriage will arrive for you and you will be taken to Kattegat to your husband.

And it was final.

You felt betrayed by your own father.

But what did you expect?

You knew he had been looking for a husband for you. You just never expected that he would find such a man, or as he said, a monster.

You had a terrible nightmare, dreaming of monsters as you woke up in cold sweat. 

Your life might as well end now.

But the next day, just as your father said, the carriage arrived and soon, you were on a boat sailing towards your demise and misery.

To be married to a Viking monster.

---

Ivar on the other hand was rather excited. When his mother told him about a Princess he will marry, he found himself to be rather excited and nervous.

He walked with his brothers towards the waters, seeing the boat, Ivar let out a sigh.

Hoping his bride would not be too afraid of him.

---

As you got off the boat a kind woman stepped forward. She was the Queen, wife of Ragnar, Aslaug. 

"Meet my sons, this is Ubbe, Sigurd, Hvitserk and your husband to be, Ivar." you kindly bowed to all of them and you could feel them staring at you. You wondered if your dress was possibly too much. You knew better than to stare but you did notice the weird contraption around Ivar's legs.

"He is a cripple, he cannot walk but do not let that fool you, he is a monster, a terrible murderer who would take down an army by himself." your father's words rang in your head.

"Currently the wedding is being planned so I think it would be best to let you rest, I'll show you to your room." said Aslaug, breaking the silence. 

You nodded one last time and the men in front of you before turning to follow their mother. She guided you to a house and inside she showed you a room. "Now, this would be only before your wedding, of course after it, you would be with Ivar. Welcome to Kattegat." she smiled before leaving you alone in the room to get ready for the wedding.

You let out a sigh.

"Are all monsters this handsome?" you said to yourself quietly before two servants arrived to get you dressed.

---

"You are lucky, Brother!" said Hvitserk as he patted Ivar on the back, they all walked off the docks, heading to their business. "She is a beauty!"

"And a Princess! You are clearly mother's favourite child, giving you such a bride. OR she just feels sorry for you." said Sigurd but Ivar didn't pay any mind to him.

His mind was filled with you.

How beautiful you looked, how shy you were. He was certain you have seen his legs, or at least heard about them. 

Ivar couldn't stop thinking about you. His senses were filled as he could recall a small whiff of your scent. Such a sweet and innocent woman you were, he could tell.

You will be the perfect wife and a great Viking.

His princess.

---

You looked at yourself in your gown as the servants left and gave you some space. 

You felt your hands shake, you knew you were about to be married to a monster.

You were terrified.

You learned a long time ago that people with beautiful faces can be the most cruel. 

And it is what you expected.

---

Ivar watched you walk towards him. Looking like a goddess, Ivar's breath was taken away immediately.

He could tell his brothers also had the same thought. 

Soon, you will be his wife, only his. 

He could see your hands shake as you said your vows.

You were his now.

His woman.

His wife.

His Princess.

His.

As the wedding concluded, now it was time for celebration. Everyone danced, drank and ate.

Ivar saw you looking around, as if trying to learn the habits. Ivar liked that you were willing. 

You, on the other hand, stared at all these people while feeling the burning looks coming from your left, Ivar kept staring at you, making you nervous.

You didn't want the night to end. You were terrified of being alone with him. You did everything that you could just to avoid being alone with him. 

You were rather surprised that Ivar didn't do anything that evening. He showed you his home but that was it, he soon headed to his bed and slept. Leaving you and your thoughts alone.

You were thankful he didn't force you.

---

This went on for a couple of days.

Ivar either ignored or barely acknowledged your presence. 

And you, were terrified of him. Being how your father put all these ideas into your head before he sent you off. 

Slowly, you started to believe they weren't true.

A monster would surely have hurt you or forced you. Ivar never did.

A monster would hurt you or leave you out in the cold. Ivar never did. Instead, he invited you into his home, his bed even, gave you furs and always made sure the fire was crackling away in its place.

During the first days, you would be afraid to fall asleep, fearing he would try something while you weren't aware of it.

But not anymore.

Slowly but surely you were coming around. 

You often heard his brothers tease him about his legs. You wondered if you should say something, but you never did.

Until tonight. When Sigurd decided to be cruel. Ivar was crawling on the floor towards Sigurd when he laughed and pulled the chair back, making Ivar fall. 

You hit the table and stood up. Your eyes locked with Sigurd's you felt everyone staring at you as the room went completely silent.

Sigurd smirked.

"Would the princess like to say something?" his mocking tone changed something inside you.

"We already know you have a tiny cock Sigurd. No need taunt my husband to try and prove otherwise." Sigurd's eyes nearly fell out of his head as Ubbe and Hvitserk laughed. Sigurd looked at Ivar before he walked out of the room, you sat back and finished your meal.

You had no idea what came over you. But you certainly didn't regret it.

"So, you do talk." said Ubbe and it made you look at him.

"Of course I do."

"You have fire in you. You'll be a great Viking." he said as he leaned back in his chair, smirking but you only looked back at your food as you ate. 

You didn't look at Ivar intentionally.

But he was looking at you.

You actually stood up for him. While everyone just sat there laughing, you actually stepped up and defended him. 

And he was grateful.

He had a feeling it wasn't out of pity but rather you had enough of his brother's teasing. 

Ivar smiled to himself as he headed back to his bed. Having his little wife defend him felt truly great. Before, only his mother stood up for him, but now, you did too.

Ivar knew you are afraid of him. It is clear in your actions. But as he pulled his shirt off and laid back in his bed, closing his eyes, all he could think about was you and how beautiful you looked as you told his brother off.

When you entered the room, your eyes were immediately drawn to Ivar. He looked to be asleep on the bed, furs pooling around his waist and his chest on full display.

You were rather taken aback. 

You have never seen him like this before. 

You were shocked. He looked so peaceful and soft. 

The tattoos adoring his chest only made his skin more stunning. The fireplace gave his skin a gorgeous glow. 

You wanted nothing more in that moment than to run your fingers over the ink on his skin.

You wanted nothing more than to kiss every inch.

He looked so comfortable, you wanted nothing more than be held by his arms.

Those strong arms.

You took silent steps, fearing you would wake him. But as you moved to lay down, he stirred as he turned and looked at you.

"I didn't mean to wake you." you said with a low voice. His eyes searched yours, slowly he moved in bed, slightly getting closer to you.

"Are you still afraid of me?" his sudden question made you question yourself.

Sure, during the last couple days, he had been nothing but kind to you.

And it did make you wonder.

He was surely not a monster.

"I don't know." your answer was honest, but you wouldn't say you were scared it was more cautious. 

Cautious because you feared you might have fallen in love with him. And you weren't sure what to do with these feelings.

"My father told me about you before I arrived and I don't think he was right."

"What did he tell you?"

"He told me you were a monster, covered in blood with a wicked smile. Tole me you were a rough man and I would be happy to live a day within your claws. But, I believe he was wrong." you looked down at your hands before looking up into his beautiful eyes. "You have been nothing but kind towards me. I heard you in the kitchen making sure everything was to my liking. You asked your mother for advice and I heard her talk with you about me. I judged you prematurely, and for that, I apologize."

"You are very different from us." he said moving to sit against the pillows. "Your dresses, your hair, the way you speak, eat. I'm simply mesmerised. I feel like I'm falling in love with you, yet don't know anything about you."

There was a moment of silence as you tried to process what he just told you.

"You can be angry and proud, but you can also be gentle and caring. I wouldn't say I love you Ivar, but I can say that I can see myself falling in love with you. I believe we could be happy together here in Kattegat."

"You defended me today. Only my mother did that before."

"I simply had enough of your brother. He believes teasing you would prove his strength but it only shows his weakness. I do like your family however. I do not have siblings, so it is nice to see."

"How many times did Hvisterk try and bed you?" you let out a sigh.

"About... five. But even so, he never touched or forced me. He just simply asked, which I always declined."

"I know you did. He would have told me if he fucked you."

"D-Don't say it like that, please! I wouldn't... sleep with your brother anyway. I believe in the unity of marriage it is sacred." 

"I know you do." Ivar smiled. "Whatever should I do to make you love me, you name it."

"I believe you are already doing enough just by being so patient with me. If you could... I-I would like to be your wife, not just the woman who sleeps in your room. I wish to be a real wife to you as you would be a real husband."

"Tell me what is it you mean by that." Ivar moved even closer, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest. You looked deeper into his eyes.

"I wish for us to find love in one another. A companionship. I wish to be the one who can calm you when you are the most angry. I wish for us to kiss and make love. To have a future and a happy life."

"You speak so sweetly. Your father was not fully wrong however. I did kill many before and I will continue to do so. If that bothers you-"

"I doesn't. It is who you are. I see it now. It is how Viking's are. I do not want to change you. I quite like you the way you are."

"Even my legs?"

"I do not care for your legs. I believe God had to take something from you otherwise you would have been too powerful." your hand moved to his neck as you pulled him closer until your lips met his. 

You were still why and Ivar could sense that, so he decided to take lead and kiss you with passion.

He soon pulled back, "Now that we kissed, I believe it is time to make love." the way he said it, his accent made a shiver run down you spine, he moved you close to him, his lips finding your neck as his hand held your waist. 

You felt your hands shake but this time, it was more excitement than nervousness.

---

The next morning you woke up to a feeling rather strange, someone was holding you and you felt more tired than you should.

Then after just a second, the memories came back. 

Suddenly, you realized who the arms belonged to and just why you were naked.

It was very early as you could tell, Kattegat was still asleep.

And judging by the soft snores behind you, so was Ivar.

Last night was the first ever you spent with him, it was the perfect night. 

And now, feeling his breath on your neck as his arms held you to his chest, you felt at ease. You felt happy.

You managed to fall in love with the monster.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆.

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑴𝒆𝒕

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warnings: mentions of blood sacrifice.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You see, hear and know things that others do not. 

・Some may say they are abilities or powers, but it’s something that you were born with. 

・Your ‘powers’ made you an outsider. People were afraid of you. Of your truth. At times your mouth spoke before your mind could think, and what came out wasn’t desired by those who had heard

・For many years you wished it away. You ignored your senses and tried to be like others

・But for the life of you ... you couldn’t. 

・Vikings are a spiritual people, and the elders were much more open to your thoughts than the younger people (they thought they knew everything, whereas as you get older, you realise there’s a lot you don’t know.)

・So you had never fit in with others your age. And that made you miss out on a lot of experiences. 

・It saddened you and your family tried to make up for it as much as possible.

・Because even though your father was an odd man, your abilities didn't come from him nor his line. It came from your mother's mother and so on. It always skipped a generation. No one knew why.

・But you relied on your family for a lot, and they too relied on you. You took great solace in the fact that you always had a home. People to go to.

・As you aged, you became even more powerful. So much so, that The Seer had asked Bjorn to go out and find you - to ask your family if you would like to be mentored by the old man

・Bjorn was hesitant, since he was now rising in ranks, becoming more of a leader himself. 

・However, the Seer had seen something. And Ragnar’s firstborn had to be the one to fetch you. 

・The ride took a few hours, yet you knew exactly who was coming.

・When the sound of hooves approached, you opened the cottage door and gave the lone man a warm damp cloth to freshen himself up and when he followed you inside, he saw that there was a feast waiting.

"We thought you would be hungry," your mother called. Her braided hair a tad messy from all the flittering about she'd been doing for hours. Trying to make your home as inviting as possible.

"Oh, thank you," Bjorn said with a genuine smile and wiped the snow from his clothes.

・Your mind made life both amazing, and horrid. You could be five steps ahead of everyone else, but then they all look like you're out of your mind.

・Bjorn ate with you and your family, getting to know them with grace and diplomacy.

・This was to be your last family dinner for a long long while. Your mother, and younger sisters had lit every candle in the house, arranging them specifically to honour the gods.

・There were even offerings that you and your father had brought in this morning. And you had seen two black ravens following you the whole while.

・The blood from the rabbit sat in a bowl on the altar. Each of the family had been blessed, by you. They had given you the honours of blessing the household as well. Leaving your mark on the home.

・Bjorn sat opposite you, a fingerprint of blood on his forehead. He was exactly as you had envisioned.

'Handsome' you thought, and then came the thoughts that were not your own, 'tough, adventurous, wants to explore.'

・It was one of the things that you were gifted with... You had only been around him for less than 30 minutes and you knew what type of man Bjorn was already.

・It's why many of the townsfolk don't like you.

・Even though they come to you for help, they want to be told certain things. But you hate to lie. And if these people wanted the truth - that's exactly what you gave them.

"So, Bjorn, have you received any word from your father?" Your own father asked, one of his large hands clutched around the wooden spoon.

"Ah well, here and there," he replied in his low gruff voice.

"I have always loved the stories about your father. Ragnar will be remembered throughout history!" You cringed at the obvious love your father had for Ragnar...

・After dinner, your parents kissed you, with tears in their eyes and your younger sister squeezed you tight.

"I'll see you again soon," you mumbled into her hair as you leaned down, hugging her back.

"You promise?" She said, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"Yes, I have already seen it." Well, you could stomach to lie to those you care about.

・Bjorn thanked your family and strapped your bag to the horse, while you had one last moment with your family.

・Releasing them, you walked out the front door, from the home that you grew up in, felt safe in. And you stepped into your future.

[woahhhgwendolyn]

Being Married To Bjorn Would Include...

-Him knowing he loved you the first time he had ever seen you. He was so in love with you he knew that he would do anything and everything for you and wanted to marry you too.

-He loves to give you gifts and give you lots of love and affection. He thinks that you deserve it all. He also loves to see your happy self once he gives you all these things.

-He loves to travel with you always. He is always worried about you traveling though. He hates the idea of you getting hurt because of some type of violence while out. That is why he keeps you very close to him while you both are traveling.

-He loves to keep you close at all times possible. Like I said before he would hate for you to get any type of hurt. He would take it very personally and think that it was his fault for not keeping you close.

-He is always so protective over you it sometimes makes you a bit crazy. But in his defense, he cannot help it.

-He sometimes will follow you around the village and make sure you do not know about it because he knows you will get mad if he follows you a lot.

-Being married to him would have some perks. Some including that you have lots of respect from not just him but from the rest of the village as well.

-He is a very jealous man, so if he sees any man with you he has to automatically include himself in the situation because he does not trust any other man in the village.

-He would want to get a tattoo signifying your marriage. He would also like it if you got one too. Most likely matching to his tattoo.

[444bluehour444]

So everyone hear me out! should I try and write some fanfics or maybe headcanons for vikings? I'm not the best at writing cuz im dyslexic and my punctuation is ass, but I'm willing to give it a try. ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) what do yall think?