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mrsalwayswrite · 1 year ago

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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19

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

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

Words: 5500

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

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had promised her.

He fucking PROMISED!

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

Please…

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

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

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

And Lothbroks owned this city.

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

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

Too bad she had met her match today.

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

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

“WHERE IS SHE??!”

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

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

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

“Fine. Your name, sir?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ivar!”

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

And there she was.

Beautiful…

Perfect…

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

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

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

Running to him!

With tears running down her cheeks.

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

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

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

That he would always protect her.

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

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

That was all that mattered.

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

His father had other plans though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something.

“What was that, kattungen?”

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

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

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

“Please don't leave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?”

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

“I've been better.” She replied.

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

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

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

A car accident.

A goddamn car accident.

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

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

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

“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten.

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

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

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

“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”

“May I take a look?”

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

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

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

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

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

“She's staying with me.”

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

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

She nodded silently.

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

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

“Can you explain what happened?”

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

“I would like to follow through with–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” She rasped back.

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

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

“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded hesitantly.

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

This time she answered shakily. “No.”

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

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

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

“Memories.”

“Memories?” Ragnar repeated.

She hummed.

“Were you in a car accident recently?”

“No…”

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever you need. I'll be there.

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

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

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

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

“Go.”

“As my priestess commands.”

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

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

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

“How are you holding up?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”

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

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

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

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

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

Without a second thought, his feet moved.

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

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

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

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

Ivar shoved him. Hard.

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

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

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

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

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

“Psycho asshole.”

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

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

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

“IVAR!”

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

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

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

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

Ivar froze. Again.

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

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

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

Until her.

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

His light. His life.

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

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

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

Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik.

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

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

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

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

“How?”

“Boxing.”

“Hmmm…did you win?”

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

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

“Are you teasing me right now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But, that's not–”

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“You don't have to. It's not–”

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

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

And so he waited for her.

Like he promised he would.

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

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

“Anything for you, Kari.”

Tag List:

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

#to call forth love #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #vikings au #vikings ivar #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x oc #ivar x ofc #ragnar #vikings ragnar #hvitserk vikings #hvitserk lothbrok #mz writes

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istorkyou · 1 year ago

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A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings - violence between male and female, guns, angst, mentions of death.

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Masterlist

Chapter 13

The sun rises. It rises over the night of screaming, the violence, the tears and the blood and the bruises.

She has said all she can. Explained her old self as best she can to the man she loves. The man she spent a year betraying. The man who was nothing more than her mission in the beginning.

He’s worked out his disbelief, his anger, his despair and his sheer, unadulterated pain at her betrayal on her. She is battered and bloodied and still as sorry as she was when she learned her own truth.

Some part of him knows that she has allowed him to do this to her. That if she really wanted to she could have stopped him with one raised fist, an expertly directed kick, even one well placed word. But she has allowed him to take out everything she believes she deserves in her body. Between each blow telling him that she loves him and how sorry she is for the actions of the woman she was, the actions of a woman who didn’t know him yet. Who didn’t know his true nature and how he could be on the inside. The actions of a puppet used by the manipulative father she met in her deep grief.

He walks away from her, crumpled in a heap on the kitchen tiles, face swollen from his fists, cuts seeping her life blood.

She thinks about fleeing. She could. He’s been careful to not break any of her bones, she could walk to one of the cars now and leave the estate, make her way back to Lev. Her father. For what though? The only person on the whole planet she cares about is in a bathroom down the hall.

If she is to die here, so be it. She will die looking into the face of the man she betrayed.

The man she loves.

She hears his steps on the tiles and looks up to see him holding cotton wool and a bottle of antiseptic.

“Up you get, Liet. I will clean you up,” he says as he holds his hands out to her. She takes his hand in her own and allows him to guide her to the squishy sofas she’s always loved.

He cleans her face, the cuts he has left and places an ice pack on her lip.

“My love. What am I going to do with you?” he asks softly as he wipes the blood from her elbows.

She swallows thickly as her heavy eyelids allow her eyes to meet his face for just a second. She knows he is surveying her face, looking at the damage he has rightly inflicted on her. She lets her tongue to slide along her bottom lip, gathering the fresh follow of crimson and loosening the dried flakes caked on already

“Kill me I would imagine.” She doesn’t let her eyes meet his now, she just takes the clean up kit from his hands and starts to wipe his bloodied knuckles clean. She cleans up the scratch marks in his forearms left behind from her nails and sets the kit on the coffee table. Only then does she allow herself to look at him, the look of regret, of sadness, of pure inevitability is over his feature.

“Don't feel guilty. It is no more than the old me deserves my love. I have told you everything I gave them. My love, please, please believe me. I fell in love with you before I lost my memory. I told them I wasn’t doing it any more, that I was in love with you and that’s why Lev did it.” She sees his face, shocked. “It was Lev, Ivar. He was behind the wheel. Before, he would ask me to meet him at the gym and I would give him anything I had gleaned. Until I admitted to myself I was in love with you. I gave them nothing of merit after, I promise. Just enough to keep them off my back, nothing that would hurt you or the family. Nothing of any substance for a long time before the accident. The day I told him I was finished with them was the day of my accident. He drove his car into me as I left the gym.”

“Lev? The man you were with? The man who trained you? The man at the gala whose hands were over you in front of everyone? The man who you fucked behind my back?”

“Ivar. Please.”

“Was it that man?” he screams at her.

“For fucks sake, if you want to boil it down to the bare goddamn bones then yes, it was that man! But if you would listen to me and accept my explanation it would be better!” She has ripped a healing cut on the side of her mouth open with her shouting. He dabs at it with a cotton ball and it stings.

“I did what I was trained to do. I had a normal life before my parents died and I found out about Oleg. He used me, manipulated me when I was deep in grief, used my vulnerability to gaslight me into doing what he wanted. Lev manipulated me as well. I’m not totally blame free, I knew what I was doing was wrong, obviously I did, but I justified it to myself that I was doing it out of love, that I was protecting my new family. It wasn’t until I met you, got to know you that I realised what real love looked like. I hate myself for what I did to you and your family. I deserve nothing less than what you will do to me, Ivar.”

“Have you fucked him since we got married? Have you fucked him since the accident? Don’t you fucking lie to me!” He grabs her shoulder, pushing his thumb hard on a wound.

She cries out in pain. “No! I promise. Not since way before the wedding. I made excuses.”

She watches as he covers his face, digging his fingers into his forehead, dragging them down his face leaving red lines on his skin. He looks at her, first with sadness on his face but it very quickly turns into rage, unadulterated anger at her again and he shifts towards her, his hand around her throat, his other hand raised behind his head in a fist, knuckles white. He hesitates when she makes a frightened squeak, seeing tears slip from her eyes again.

She scrunches her eyes shut, waiting for the impact, waiting for more split skin, the bones of her nose to be broken by his fists, but it doesn’t come, neither does oxygen into her body as he squeezes her throat tighter. Her eyes open to find his brimmed with tears and she knows this is the end. She is looking into the eyes of her murderer, the person who will send her to hell, even with this realisation she can’t help but try and smile at him, try to let him know that she understands his actions, that she doesn’t blame him.

She chokes out as best she can with his hands restricting her. “Sorry.. love you.” Her vision darkens as the lack of oxygen starts to shut her down, her heart starts to slow, a fraction but she can feel it. She knows, mercifully, she will be unconscious before death takes her. She feels the pressure in her eyeballs, and with that pressure comes a change in Ivar’s face, a fear, a realisation that removes his hands from her throat and allows sweet, sweet breath back into her windpipe, inflating her lungs, allowing oxygen to flow into her bloodstream, travelling to her heart, her brain, causing her to cough and suck in as many breaths as she can. She falls forward when his hands leave her, only to feel them on her back, rubbing circles gently.

“Baby, why did you have to do this?! I love you so much and now I’m without a choice! Ragnar will never allow you to…. It's your fault some of our best men, our allies, are dead. Why so many of our deals went south. Oh god, Liet! The family will make you suffer! I can’t stop that.” The next noise that leaves him is so devastating that she sobs. He screams up at the ceiling, anger, frustration, all the betrayal and the inevitability of his own impending grief spill out of him, travelling throughout the house like a poisonous gas, sent to kill them both.

She crawls to him, leaving bloody marks all over their beautiful sofa, until she is close enough to pull his head to her chest, feeling his tear soak into her skin, his pain wash over her, pulling her under, the guilt of her own betrayal rising bile in her throat.

“I was a different person, not me. Not your Liet, I can’t explain it any better than I have. I stopped betraying you as soon as I admitted to myself how I felt about you. When I felt safe away from them.They threatened to kill you in front of me then torture me to death if I didn’t do it. You are the only man I’ve ever loved, I didn’t know the meaning of it until I met you. I’ve loved you with my whole heart and soul, before and after the accident. I know I won’t survive this, Ivar. I know that. You need to understand that I have come to terms with it. When I found out who I was, what I did when I was Etta, my absolute betrayal of you, my soul died anyway. I’ve been empty ever since, only surviving because of all that you give me, like a disgusting parasite.”

No sooner do the words leave her mouth then he claps his hands over it. “Never, ever speak about yourself in such a manner to me. You are no parasite, you are the my soulmate, my one and only. Forever. I need to speak to my Father.”

He lessens the grip on her mouth. “I have a book that you can give him. It has every detail I ever have over to my father. Dates, people. It’s in Russian but I have translated it. The phone I used will support the dates. They are hidden behind the black, studded Louboutins, the ones with the red soles. Show him everything.”

He leaves her on the couch, she slumps back onto the pillows allowing a moment's rest as he searches for her evidence. When he comes back with it in his hand he stares at her for a long time. “Liet, I am going to show my father this. Do I need to secure you to something? Handcuff you? Get someone to watch you? I am asking you if you will run.”

She sighs deeply and starts to cry. “I won’t run. I’ve nowhere to run. You are all that matters in my life. If I’m not with you I might as well be dead anyway.”

He rushes to her, he throws himself in her, forcing his arms behind her shoulder and neck and pulls her tight to him. She can feel him breathing her in, trying to commit her smell to memory, in case this will be the last time. He untangles himself as his tears drop onto her skin like summer rainfall, running down her skin, leaving their mark on her. He doesn’t meet her eyes as he turns from her to leave. She makes no fuss.

As the front door slams she rises from the sofa, pushes the exterior lights on and walks to the pool. It’s cold out, but the vapour rising off the pool, being blown into the atmosphere by the cool northwest wind invites her. She strips naked and walks into the pool by the sloping steps. She sits, submerged to her shoulders, watching the illuminated water turn pink from the blood seeping from her wounds, but she cares not. The warm water envelops her, soothing her like the baths her mother ran for her as a child. She shakes the memory of the times her and Lev spent in the tub at her fathers estate, him cleaning wounds he inflicted on her during her training. This is different. The wounds she has now are deserved and she should absolutely feel the sting of chlorine in each and everyone one of them.

Her legs float in front and lies flat, treading water, looking up at the clear, star strewn sky. Like a black canopy dotted with holes.

Her last night on this earth.

Julietta feels no fear at all, only a deep anguish at forcing her husband's hand into killing her. Forcing her wonderful Ivar to use his nature against her.

She knows it will be the death of him eventually and it is this that makes her scream into the black of the night, her voice scaring the birds from the trees, reaching out into the universe, an agony heard by whatever dwells above and beyond.

“Liet,” Ivar’s voice interrupts her. She’s been in the pool for a long time without realising, her hands and feet are crinkly and the whole pool has a pink hue from her wounds. “Come out, love.” As she does as he says he wraps her in a towel and takes her to bed.

“Father has the information. No decision will be made tonight. We can rest easy.” He dries her off and tucks her into their bed before taking off his clothes and joining her. “I will clean you up properly tomorrow. I’ve got strong painkillers should you need them. Sleep now.”

She is too exhausted to ask any questions, she simply moves into his body, tucking herself into him and falls asleep when his arms pull her closer.

——————————————

He wakes in the morning to her hands over him, all perfect in his head before the memories start and the dead heart that only beats for her drops into his stomach. He remembers his father's words.

“She is your responsibility, Ivar. She is yours to deal with. I don’t need to tell you what needs to be done. You are shrewd enough to have known the very moment she disclosed herself to you. How you choose to do it is yours and yours alone.”

Ivar doesn’t even try to reason. There is no reasoning, he knows the only outcome. He says nothing about how grateful he is his father is allowing it to be him and not going full tilt, sending in mercenaries to deal with it. As Ivar turns to leave, Ragnar's voice stops him.

“She loves you, Ivar, but she cannot be trusted. Unlimited time is not available to you. Get it done. Keep me informed. No one will bother you in the estate. Got it?” Ivar nods tightly and heads back to her

He sleeps surprisingly well, her scent breaking through the swimming pool smell on her skin, soothing him. When he wakes fully she is over him, straddling his lap. He runs his hands over her perfect body, a body covered in old scars and wounds yet to mature into scars. She will always be the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, even battered and bruised. He watches tears fall from her eyes so he grabs at her, pulling her down on top of him and wraps his arms around her back, rubbing soothingly, until her sobs subside.

“We are going to go on holiday, you and I. We will go away for a week and allow ourselves to pretend none of this happened. Just be us again, carefree like in Sardinia. One week.”

She sits up and a smile graces her face. “One week.”

His face turns very stern all of sudden. “Julietta, do not use this opportunity to try and run, promise me baby? If you love me like you say you do…”

“I promise, Ivar. I promise.”

—————————————————

He manages to get them both off the estate and to the airfield where the private jet he chartered is waiting before he calls his father.

“Ivar.” Ragnar's voice is full of irritation.

“Father. One week. I will be home in one week. Alone.”

“Son, there will be severe consequences if this is your veiled attempt at setting her free. If she manages to get away I will not be pleased and I will send a force out to get her. Do not let her play you again.”

“Father. She loves me, this whole time hasn’t been her playing me. She loves me. I need this time with her. Once she is gone I will never be the same again. She won’t try to escape. One week with my wife then I will come home alone.”

Ragnar sighs audibly. “Okay. Ivar? When this is all done I will help you get through it. Okay son?”

——————————

Six days spent in paradise together, like honeymooners. They talk for hours, she tells him every detail of herself, how she met Oleg, Lev, her training. She tells him how she started to fall for him in Sardinia and why she had to turn cold, it was to save them both from Lev.

They both do a stellar job of ignoring the impending seventh day, but it comes quickly regardless.

She hears the safety of the gun click behind her, close to her head. She closes her eyes, and tucks some hair behind her ears.

Here it is then.

The end.

She had come to terms with it until two days ago and now she can’t allow it to happen. She needs to disarm him quickly, minimal fuss.

“Liet. Turn around.”

The click of the gun was a fraction to her right so she knows that’s the way to go. She catches him off guard as she leans forward quickly, spins on her right foot towards him landing her elbow into his ribs and grabbing his outstretched arm with the gun in it with her left hand. The gun goes off and a bullet ricochets into the rafters before she manages to jut the heel of her hand up onto his nose, taking advantage of his loss of balance she manages to get the gun. She stands, legs apart with the gun pointed at his head now.

Through the pain in his nose, through the tears caused by her punch he registers what he is seeing.

“I’m sorry, Ivar. I hate to see you in pain, sorry about your nose love.”

Ivar let’s out a huff of laughter. “It’s okay baby, I get it. You are so quick, I didn’t have any idea you were going to do that. Very impressive.”

“Thanks, baby! I thought I was rusty but it went quite smoothly.” She flashes him a smile of pride.

“So, are you going to kill me, Julietta?” He tilts his head to the side taking in her facial expression and he sees the tears form in her eyes.

“I could never do that to you, my love.”

“Ok. So what’s the plan? You are going to knock me out, escape? Even though you swore to me you wouldn’t?”

She nods her head slowly and regretful, “That’s the plan, baby. I’m going to have to break one of your legs so you can’t alert anyone and I’m so sorry about that love. I will make it clean so it heals quickly and neatly. I will knock you out first though.” She watches his hand go for his pocket. “No point, love. I took your phone earlier.” She says sadly. “Go and sit in that chair.” She points to one of the kitchen chairs and as he moves slowly, the gun in her hand still trained on him, she reaches into the sofa cushions and pulls out a length of rope.

He looks at it then back to her, as he sits heavily. He nods his head in realisation, “So you were always planning on betraying me again.”

“Oh, Ivar,” her eyes full with tears, “I wasn’t going to. I was going to disarm you and shoot myself to save you from having to do it, but something changed and now I need to escape. I hate it, I hate having to do this and hurt you again, but this is bigger than us now, I am doing this for both of us. One day you will understand.” Her eyes are pleading with him and he crosses his arms behind the chair letting her tie him to it. She weaves it through his legs and does it in a complicated knot that tightens the more it’s pulled on. “Try not to struggle too much, the rope will tighten if you do.” He tests it and she’s right. “Thanks for letting me do that with no fuss, love.”

She walks around in front of him and settles on her knees, arms resting across his legs. “I hate this. I’m so fucking angry at the way we met! I wish we were just two normal people who fell in love and can live happily ever after but that just isn’t in the cards for us. Neither of our fathers would allow me to live, no matter how much we both want it. It’s just so fucking unfair.

Ivar tips his head down to survey her face. It’s Liet, not Etta. She is being honest with him and he softens immediately. “It is unfair. We would have grown old together, love. But it is what it is. Come up here and give me a kiss.” She knows she’s done the knots well, there is no way he can get loose, so she does what he asks, she rises up and kisses him like it’s the last time.

Because it is the last time.

When they break apart they are both crying, she wipes his tears and then her own.

“So,” Ivar shakes his head a little, back to work mode, “the plan is you are going to knock me out, break my leg, escape somehow and then what? Where will you go?” He gives her a cheeky smile when he sees her raised eyebrows and a small chuckle leaves him. “Worth a try, hey love! You know we won’t stop until we find you, you know that baby?”

“I know. Ivar, do me a favour when you get home. Kill Lev for me. Make it hurt.” Waiting for his answer she strokes his face. “Make him hurt like he hurt me.”

“Done.”

“Okay. I don’t think there’s anything we can say. This is it I suppose. I love you. I will always love you. I will always be sorry and I will love you until my dying breath. I will find you in the next life, I promise you..” her voice cracks and she stands up in front of him. “Always have been the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life.” She smiles.

“I love you, Liet. Always have and I always will. Until we meet again.” A thought occurs to him. “What changed, you said something changed. What?”

She doesn’t realise it but her hand flies to her stomach and when she sees the realisation in his face she grabs the gun and smashes the butt if it into his temple and his world goes black. She can only hope he doesn’t remember her unconscious movement when he wakes up.

Chapter 14

#modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern vikings #ubbe #modern!ubbe #modern!hvitserk #ivar x oc #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #ivar vikings #ragnar #hvitserk ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #vikings ivar #ivar imagine #ivar ragnarsson x ofc

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paracosmoon · 3 years ago

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

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hellisateenagewerewolf · 2 years ago

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VIKINGS

ISIS;THE SILVER BERSERKER

Hell is a woman scorned

Iris is a Viking goddess, daughter of the powerful warrior-queen Lagertha and the god-like figure Ragnar. When Lagertha casts her out, fearing her daughter’s growing power and potential to surpass her, Iris is forced to grow up with her father and brothers in the harsh Viking world. As Iris matures, she becomes entangled in a complicated relationship with Ivar, her brother—one marked by growing tension, desire, and a dangerous pull of attraction.

This forbidden bond only escalates as both Iris and Ivar wrestle with their destinies and roles in their family’s legacy. However, the conflict between their parents reaches a breaking point when Lagertha, in a moment of deep betrayal, kills Ivar’s mother. This brutal act sparks an all-out war between Iris’s family and Ivar’s, plunging them into a world of violence, bloodshed, and fractured loyalties.

Amid the chaos, Iris must confront her dual heritage—caught between her divine lineage and the mortal, violent world she was born into. She grapples with her identity, torn between her love for Ivar and the loyalty to a family that once rejected her. The story weaves themes of forbidden love, betrayal, and the destructive nature of ambition, as both families clash in a bloody, inevitable conflict.

She was crazy but he made her evil

And together they made terror

Click here for series

Settings : Viking Era

Warning: 18+

Genre: Romance/Drama/Epic

Pairings: Ivar Ragnarsson, Isis Lagerthasdottir , Hvitserk Ragnarsson

#ragnar lothbrok #lagertha #bjorn ironside #alex hogh andersen #ivar #ivar the boneless #vikings #house of the dragon #vikings fic #ivar ragnarsson imagines #ivar x ofc #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson #young rhaenyra #ewin Mitchell #ivar x reader

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bouncehousedemons · 2 years ago

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Blood & Thunder

Rating: T Pairing: Hvitserk x OFC Warnings: Slight angst, mild mentions of blood and violence. Word count: ~1400

Summary: Since arriving in the Golden Land, Hvitserk has felt he is missing his purpose in life. That is until his meets a young woman from the Mi’kmaq tribe who reignites his sense of adventure.

Author's note: Happy birthday @captainkilly // @underragingwaves! This is my gift to you. I hope you enjoy it. This is part of my wider Salt of the Earth and Sea series, but can be read as a standalone. A while ago someone commented saying it would be nice if Hvitserk was given his own love interest in the Golden Land. Knowing how lazy I am when it comes to writing fics off my own steam, I set myself the deadline of Killy's birthday to write this, so I could gift it to her.

It has been three months since Hvitserk was reunited with his elder brother, Ubbe. Three months of becoming accustomed to life in a new land. Three months of settling into an uneventful life of farmsteading. It is peaceful and it is quiet. Why is it always so quiet?

Hvitserk longs for adventure, but most of all he longs for someone to share it with. He looks upon Ubbe and his flame-haired lover, Casja and covets what they have. He has not been with anyone since losing Thora, but now he longs for companionship.

Hvitserk finds himself drawn to the neighbouring Skraeling tribe, soon learning that they refer to themselves as Mi’kmaq. They hunt with spears and arrows, use every part of their kill and roam for miles on horseback. While there are plenty of similarities between his people and theirs, it is their differences that intrigue him most. It slakes a thirst for the unknown that is part of the very fabric of Hvitserk’s soul.

One young woman in particular captures his attention; Avaldidida. Hvitserk has never heard a name so beautiful. Her umber eyes turn to the colour of honey in the sunlight, her long dark hair falls loose around the bronzed skin of her shoulders, with intricate braids adorned with beads and feathers. She must surely be a goddess, Hvitserk thinks.

Upon their first meeting Avaldidida comments on the fact that Hvitserk’s eyes aren’t blue like the others’. Blue eyes mean danger. Completely misreading her comment, Hvitserk leans in to kiss her and laughs in shock when she forces him backwards, the flat of her palm to his forehead.

Despite this, Avaldidida and Hvitserk become firm friends. Seeing her quickly becomes the highlight of every day for him. They hunt together on horseback, skin the pelts from their kills and spear fish on days when the weather allows it. She chuckles at how bad his aim is with a bow and arrow while riding and when he is able to smile along with her, Hvitserk knows his heart is no longer his own.

When Avaldidida does not show up that day for the ride they had planned, Hvitserk feels that something must be wrong. He travels on horseback to the nearby Mi’kmaq settlement to seek Avaldidida out and is immediately concerned by the scene that greets him.

A woman wails in anguish over the prone form of a young man. A bloody wound oozes in his chest, red and grisly. The settlement is a clamour of activity, as people rush to grab weapons and mount horses.

“You have to go!” Avaldidida says urgently to Hvitserk as she rushes over to him.

“What has happened?” Hvitserk asks, dismounting and placing a gentle hand on Avaldidida’s shoulder.

“There are people…like you.” She replies hesitantly. “They attacked a group that were fishing. They have killed Peminuit. We must defend ourselves. You cannot be here.”

“I’m helping you.” Hvitserk says without hesitation.

Avaldidida’s eyes go wide. She studies Hvitserk’s face to see if he is being serious.

"You would help us, Hvitserk?" Avaldidida asks, a hint of disbelief to her tone. "You'd be risking your life."

"And I'd do it gladly for you, Ava." He responds with a proud smile.

Avaldidida averts her eyes, a small smile playing upon her lips. Ava. She likes that.

“Do you have a weapon?” She asks.

Hvitserk unclips the axe from his belt, holding it out for her to inspect.

“That will not be enough.” Avaldidida states.

“Oh, trust me.” Hvitserk grins. “It will be.”

Hvitserk falls back into the throes of battle like it is the arms of an old lover. His heart hammers in his chest, he revels in the thrill of it all. Howling like a wolf, he hacks and slashes through men who, once upon a time, he would have fought alongside, not against.

He wears the blood on his face as proudly as the wolfish grin that never falters. It matters not that he is attacking and killing what are potentially fellow Northmen. He has a new purpose to fight for now; her.

When the last of their opponents have fled, their numbers cut back to too few to stand a chance, Hvtiserk screams triumphantly. His eyes search for Avaldidida and finds her sheathing the last of her arrows.

He strides over to her, pulling her into a tight hug, a wide smile still plastered to his face.

“We did it, Ava!”

His smile finally fades when she pushes him roughly backwards. He stumbles a little, confusion taking hold of him.

Avaldidida’s body language is rigid and tense, her facial expression is cold. Hvitserk feels he can see a look of slight disappointment in her eyes. It’s only when he looks around he notices the rest of the Mi’kmaq tribe are mirroring her body language, regarding him cautiously.

“Thank you for your help.” She says flatly, before turning to walk away.

“Wait!” He rushes to block her path. Hvitserk looks at her, his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with sadness. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Avaldidida sighs, bowing her head for a moment before looking up at him, a frown distorting her delicate facial features. “You take pleasure in killing, Hvitserk. There is no honour in taking another person’s life. We do it only to protect ourselves, not for enjoyment.”

Hvitserk stares at her, his mouth agape, too dumbfounded to say anything.

“Go back to your brother, Hvitserk.”, Avaldidida says, a tinge of sorrow in her voice. “You are too dangerous to be around my people.”

Hvitserk feels as though his world has imploded. No one has ever turned their back on him because of his prowess in battle before. He does not sleep that night, his heart aches over Avaldidida’s rejection of him.

He turns her words around in his mind; “you take pleasure in killing”. He used to. However, today he’d taken pride in defending the woman he loves and helping to defend her people. Perhaps it didn’t help that he’d never actually told her he was in love with her. But he was certainly no danger to her and he’d make her see that.

At dawn’s first light, Hvitserk is up and back on his horse. He will not wait around for Avaldidida to forgive him. He will earn it. He has never shied away from a challenge and this is one he is more than prepared to take.

Word quickly spreads throughout the Mi’kmaq as they spot Hvitserk’s approach. Avaldidida is already waiting for him when he arrives - an arrow strung in her bow and pointed directly at him.

“Leave or I will kill you.” She orders.

“If you wanted to kill me you would have by now.” Hvitserk says with a gentle smile, as he jumps down from his horse. “I’ve seen you hunt with that, you could have gotten me when I was a mile back, but you didn’t.”

She sighs, lowering her bow, holding the arrow as she releases the tension on the string. “Why are you here?”

“To give you this.” Hvitserk unclips his axe and lays it at her feet.

She says nothing, quirking an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“You are right, Ava.” He confesses with a slight shrug. “I did enjoy the battle yesterday, but only because I was fighting for you. My axe is yours, as is my heart. I don’t care if you never want to see me again after this, that is your choice, such as it is mine to fight for you.”

Her expression is unreadable as Hvitserk looks at her, although her body language seems slightly less guarded. Hvitserk takes a few steps back, having said all he wanted to say, he intends to leave.

He freezes in shock when she pushes forward, pressing her lips against his. When he doesn’t respond she pulls away, embarrassment radiating from her.

Hvitserk is quick to regain his composure, realising his mistake. He pulls her to him and kisses her hungrily, something he has yearned to do since the day he first laid eyes upon her.

She smiles as their lips finally part, their foreheads resting together. “At least you are a better kisser than you are an archer.”

#vikings fanfiction #vikings history #vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x ofc #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk's heathen feast #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk x oc #vikings fic #vikings history channel #vikings fandom

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serasvictoria · 3 years ago

Text

Wrote this for @doctorwhoandfairytaillover’s Short and Sweet Challenge! Hope that you’ll like it! And congrats again with your milestone!

And thanks to @adrille88 for confirming that this was indeed short and sweet ❤️

All images from Pinterest

Pairing: Hvitserk x OFC

Word Count: 758 (very short for me!)

Notes: This is an OFC that will definitely feature in other things as well by the way, so you guys had better get used to her.

*****

With an old magazine in hand, he desperately tried to waft the smell of burnt toast out of his kitchen. This definitely wasn’t how Hvitserk had envisioned this morning to go.

Last night was a bit of a blur, but waking up this morning sure was a surprise. After that, he had made a vow to himself to try and make a lasting impression, but this wasn’t what he had been aiming for at all.

“What are you doing?”

Hvitserk could hear the mild amusement in the voice behind him and when he turned around he actually swallowed heavily when he took her in.

The messy short pink hair was the first thing that caught his eye and then her blue eyes. Her eyeliner must have looked perfect last night, but right now it was a smear over her eyelids that only seemed to highlight them. Then those heart-shaped lips which looked awfully kissable. She was wearing one of his shirts, one that had been plucked out of his ‘wash’ pile, and he could just about see a flash of her blue striped underwear underneath.

Yep, he’d definitely gotten very lucky last night.

“I was… erm… making breakfast.”

“Not very well from the looks of it,” she replied. She walked over to where he was standing, slid in next to him and held up the blackened toast. “My favourite.”

“Is it?” Hvitserk sounded hopeful that he might have done something right here.

“No,” she said with a laugh. “But I appreciate the effort.”

“Oh.” He looked down at the floor, thinking that he had fucked up, only to be surprised when she pressed her lips against his cheek instead. The corner of his mouth ticked up instantly. “What did you do that for?”

“For this,” she gestured at the mess that he’d made. The scrambled eggs that he’d been picking eggshells out of, the orange juice that was getting horribly close to being past the sell by date. “Now why don’t you sit down and let me handle it, hm?”

He let himself get shooed away by her to one of the high chairs at the breakfast bar. It was the best view in the house from which to watch her work, this perfect stranger who had been hugging him ever so tightly when he had woken up this morning.

She moved through his kitchen with confidence, pulling open his fridge and studying the contents. New eggs were taken out, broken into a bowl and whisked with an ease that indicated that she’d definitely done that before. Her nose crinkled as she sniffed the contents of a bag of grated cheese in the most adorable manner and deemed passable before being added to the mixture.

It was almost as if she owned the place and he briefly wondered whether he had taken her home before, but no, he couldn’t have. He’d definitely remember a girl like her.

Grabbing the plates that he had already set out, she spooned the scrambled eggs onto it and handed him a plate. She looked at him expectantly as he shoved a spoonful into his mouth and then a huge grin formed on his lips.

“This is good,” he replied with a full mouth that would earn him a stern stare from his mother if she had been present. The girl breathed a sigh of relief. “Really good.”

He scarfed down his food and when he looked at his empty plate with disappointment, she actually gave him her portion. Actually gave it to him! Didn’t matter how much he said that she didn’t have to, she insisted on it. So who was he to say no to such a sweet gesture?

The only thing that was on his mind when she handed him her plate was something that Ubbe had once told him. About that time when Gunnhild had first introduced him to Amma. How he just knew.

Sentimental bullshit.

That’s what Hvitserk had called it at the time. Ubbe and Amma had gotten together shortly after Hvitserk had another one of his monumental break-ups with Margrethe, one that had stuck for a change. So Hvitserk hadn’t been that keen to believe his older brother back then, but he sure believed it now.

“Can I ask you one thing though? And please don’t take this the wrong way?” She looked up at him, a slight crease forming on her brow. “What’s your name?”

Her laugh in answer was melodic and only sucked him in deeper.

“Kitty,” she said. “My name’s Kitty.”

*****

Tagging: @ritual-unions-gotme @quantumlocked310 @punkrocknpearls @grimeundglow @istorkyou

#short and sweet challenge #vikings #vikings au #hvitserk lothbrok #original female character #hvitserk x ofc #mar writes #mar moodboards #vikings modern au

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yummycastiel · 3 years ago

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drop of the sea- chapter three

prologue, ch. 1, ch.2

Author's note: As I'm sure any of those who read this noticed, I'm sort of following along the main storyline of the show, who knows which direction i'll end up going in aha ;)

Maja.

Sitting by the fire in the half-full great hall of Kattegat, Maja reflected on the memories of the times when she was young. It seemed that the longer she was in Kattegat, the more she remembered of her childhood. The more she remembered of Ivar, and how Floki the boat builder would take care of him and take him everywhere he went, and how Maja would follow them. She remembered Ivar being a needy child, smaller than her, whinier than her, but he made her laugh. It was quite a shock to compare Ivar now to what he used to be when Maja knew him. Now he was...well, handsome. Maja hated to admit it but, Gods, the son of Ragnar was good looking. He used to be weaker than her and now his broad shoulders and powerful arms looked like they could break you. She wasn’t sure what she wanted when she had spoken to Ivar earlier today. To simply speak to him? To see what he was like? Either way, she was confused. Maja was suddenly startled from her thoughts by a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see what looked like a slave.

‘’Prince Ivar would like to speak with you.’’ Said the slave, looking a slight bit nervous. Maja’s friends and brother who were seated around her and who she had almost forgotten about looked at Maja in confusion, but she gestured to them to leave it be with a wave of her hand.

‘’Lead the way.’’ Maja conceded, getting up from her spot and adjusting her weapons at her side. The slave led her deeper into the great hall, past a curtain and into what appeared to be a bedroom. It was lit dimly, and as she looked to her right she saw Ivar sitting down next to his own fire. His face was lit up in golden light from the flames, blue eyes alight, making him look like some sort of god. Maja felt her stomach tighten.

‘’Please, sit!’’ Began Ivar, gesturing to a spot near him, turning away from the fire to look at her. His blue eyes made her want to freeze in her spot, but she managed to sit down next to him. Maja hated looking nervous, she hated looking weak, but she saw her hands wringing nervously without even knowing it.

‘’You wanted to speak with me?’’ She pressed. Ivar now fully turned his attention on her. He rested his face in his hands, his big blue eyes never leaving hers.

‘’Yes, I just wanted to talk.’’ Ivar had an innocent tone to his voice, ‘’I was bored.’’ Maja crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

‘’So I am here to entertain you?’’ A wry smile appeared on Ivar’s lips.

‘’Sure.’’ He responded, bluntly. ‘’Tell me, are you eager to go to battle with the Saxons?’’

‘’Of course. As you can see, it is what I’m trained for.’’ Ivar was nodding as Maja replied, his hand rubbing his chin.

‘’Where did you learn how to fight like that? I’ve never seen any shieldmaiden fight in such a manner...so beautiful to watch.’’ At this comment Maja felt her cheeks redden but she tried to ignore it. It was simply her skill he was complimenting.

‘’Some of it I thought of myself, some I learned from foreigners who came to trade in my town. Wanderers.’’ Ivar was still looking at her, examining her face, making Maja feel as though he was studying her every move.

‘’What made you want to become a shieldmaiden then?’’ He questioned.

‘’I’m not sure...just seemed natural to me. I want to be able to defend myself, defend those I love. I want to be able to take what I want. I also wanted to prove myself.’’ Ivar’s eyebrows knitted together, looking slightly confused.

‘’Prove yourself?’’

‘’I was born a Saxon. Although I was raised as a Viking from a very young age, I knew I would be an outsider. No one would ever let me forget it, not really. I had to do everything better than everyone else just to prove that I am just as Viking as any Scandinavian-born person here.’’ Maja stopped to look away from Ivar and into the fire, unable to hold his gaze. ‘’I have to work twice as hard to prove what I am, and now I can cut down anyone who tries to say otherwise.’’ At this, Maja gave Ivar a little grin. Ivar looked amused, but he nodded, listening intently to what she was saying.

‘’I understand that feeling,’’ Ivar said, ‘’That feeling of being the odd man out. Being a cripple and all.’’ He gestured to his motionless feet that he had rested in front of him.’’ And I’m going to prove myself too, when we go to England.’’ Maja nodded approvingly. After a few moments of silence, Maja leaned back in her chair, feeling more comfortable.

‘’You know, I actually wanted to be like Lagertha when I was younger.’’ Maja began. At the mention of the shieldmaiden, Maja saw Ivar tense, his fist closing and anger flashing in his eyes. ‘’I wanted to be her...but seeing her now and what she’s done, I must admit I’m disappointed.’’ These words made Ivar’s head whip around and look at her, hanging on every word she was saying. ‘’When she took Kattegat, and then killed your mother who had already surrendered her crown, I…’’ Maja trailed off, ‘’That’s not something I thought was right.’’

‘’It wasn’t.’’ Ivar spat, getting angrier by the minute, ‘’She murdered her.’’ Some crazy instinct deep inside of Maja made her lean forward and put her hand on Ivar’s. His skin was warm to the touch, his hand soft underneath her fingers. Maja felt a bolt of electricity run through her at the contact. Ivar looked down at her hand over her own, confused.

‘’Ivar,’’ She rasped, ‘’I’m so sorry about your mother. She didn’t deserve to die like that, with an arrow in her back.’’ She half-expected Ivar to shrug her hand away or to react in the anger he was so well known for, but he simply looked at her.

‘’Thank you.’’ He said in a soft voice. Maja could tell he was struggling to keep his composure by the look in his eyes. His bright blue eyes conveyed so much pain and emotion in that very moment that she felt his pain too, and she felt his anger coursing through her body. The way that Ivar’s face could change from cocky or angry, to sorrowful and sad shocked Maja. It was as if his feelings were her own, as if her own mother had been killed, shot in the back.

‘’I never had a mother,’’ Maja breathed finally, taking her hand back slowly from Ivar, ‘’I can’t imagine the pain and anger you must feel. The need for revenge.’’ Ivar looked at the place where her hand had been, as if not realizing it was not touching his hand anymore.

‘’My brothers do not see the need for revenge. They weren’t as devoted to Aslaug as I was.’’ Ivar explained in a flat tone, ‘’They didn’t receive the same love from her that I did, but she was still their mother. I swore to the Gods I would kill Lagertha, and I swore it to her face as well.’’

‘’I’m sure you will,’’ Maja offered tentatively, ‘’However I’m sure Bjorn would not be very forgiving. Are you prepared to deal with that?’’

‘’I don’t care,’’ Ivar scoffed, ‘’I’ll kill that bitch mother of his and he’ll know how I felt.’’

‘’Revenge is sweet, but I should point out that it won’t necessarily make you feel better, Ivar, it won’t bring her back.’’ When Maja said these words, she was afraid she had gone too far, as Ivar looked at her, his mouth twisting into a scowl. His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, yell at her. Revenge was the way of the Vikings. Blood for blood. As Maja held Ivar’s gaze, she watched as he bowed his head. His hand flew up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as his shoulders shook. ‘’Ivar? I’m sorry-’’ She began, beginning to regret her warnings to him, but she cut herself off when Ivar looked up at her again. His eyes were red, tears leaking out. The vulnerable look in his eye made Maja’s heart clench and she felt the urge to cry as well. She got up from her seat tentatively and knelt before Ivar slowly. He was looking down now at his clenched fists, trying to avoid her gaze. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around him, slowly, waiting to see if she would push her away. He didn’t. Maja wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and she gently pulled him towards her. Much to her shock, Ivar allowed it to happen, but he made no movements to return the gesture. He sat, frozen and stiff, as she took him into her arms. Maja felt his breath against her neck, shaky.

‘’What are you doing?’’ Ivar finally said in a low voice. It was as if the action was utterly foreign to him and he genuinely needed her to explain what she was doing.

‘’Hugging you.’’ Maja replied. His hair tickled her cheek slightly. Ivar stayed frozen to the spot, still as a rock as Maja continued to hold him. She couldn’t help it and she let a laugh escape her lips. She let go of Ivar and she saw him giving her a confused stare.

‘’Why are you laughing?’’ He seemed shocked, confused, and a little wary. Maja let out a muffled laugh.

‘’I’m not laughing at you Ivar, don’t worry,’’ Maja managed between giggles, ‘’You’re just funny.’’ Ivar cocked his head, a ghost of an amused smile on his lips.

‘’Funny?’’ He breathed. Ivar chuckled and shook his head. After a couple moments of comfortable silence, Maja looked back towards the Great Hall, wondering if her brother had noticed she still hadn’t returned.

‘’I should go back,’’ She said, ‘’We have to get up early to begin preparations for England.’’ She stood up, giving Ivar a slight bow.

‘’Speaking of England,’’ Ivar called out to her, ‘’Would you…’’ He paused and as Maja studied him she could have sworn he looked nervous, ‘’Would you want to travel in the same ship as me?’’ Maja raised her eyebrows in surprise, but before she could reply, Ivar began again, ‘’In England I would need some...protection, given that I am a cripple, of course. I would like for you to be that for me.’’ Maja smiled, hoping that this question secretly meant that he just wanted to see her more. She dipped her head to him.

“Of course Ivar, whatever you need.” She replied, giving him a little bow before she turned to leave.

* *

The next day, Maja was helping get the boats ready to depart, loading bundles of supplies one by one. Breathing heavily, she stopped to take a quick break, and something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. On the end of another dock she watched as Ivar directed a dozen men who were lifting and settling a great chariot into another boat. His voice carried and she heard him yelling at the men to do a proper job, hands waving with anxiety. Maja suppressed a giggle as she made her way over to observe.

‘’Let me guess,’’ Maja mused into an unsuspecting Ivar’s ear, ‘’This is yours?’’ Ivar didn’t jump, much to Maja’s disappointment, but he chuckled and crossed his arms.

‘’Floki built it for me,’’ He replied, the pride shining through his words as he looked at the chariot, ‘’Do you like it?’’ Ivar looked at Maja now, his eyes almost pleading for her approval, a child-like excitement sparkling in his eyes.

‘’It’s beautiful!’’ She said, leaning over to run her hand across the smooth wood, wondering at the craftsmanship, ‘’You’re a very lucky boy.’’ She gave Ivar a joking nudge. He rolled his eyes.

‘’Yes, well I couldn’t go around crawling across the battlefield could I?’’ he pointed out. Maja could feel his excitement spilling out of him and she wondered at how good of a mood he was in. No wonder.

‘’Look, there’s a little room for me up there too!’’ Maja cheekily pointed out, unable to resist the urge to tease. Ivar stared at her, taken aback at her bold statements that apparently he was not used to. Maja swore she saw the shadow of shyness flash across his face.

‘’Ivar the Boneless,’’ Came a deeper voice suddenly from behind them, ‘’That’s a nice little toy you got there.’’ The two turned to see King Harald Finehair approaching them, his brother Halfdan trailing behind him. Harald’s long braid swung from side to side as he sauntered up to them. Ivar’s lip curled and he looked ready to fire back a retort before Harald spoke again; ‘’And who is this?’’ This time he was looking at her. Maja raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms to match Ivar’s defensive pose.

‘’You’re telling me you don’t know who I am?’’ She retorted smartly and King Harald laughed.

‘’Maja Harekdottir, yes, I know.’’ Harald said, his eyes traveling up and down her body, ‘’Your reputation is widely known, for someone so young. I look forward to fighting alongside you in England, even though I know it must be difficult to cut down your own countrymen.’’ At this he gave her a snarky grin, his brother chuckling, egging him on. Maja rolled her eyes and turned away from him.

‘’Harald, don’t you have to go clean Bjorn’s boots with your tongue?’’ Ivar said smoothly, his voice ice cold. Harald grin turned into a sneer, but he said nothing, pushing his brother to walk away.

‘’I’m surprised you didn’t join in with the teasing Ivar.’’ Maja said, turning back to the blue-eyed man. He gave her a shrug but said nothing else as he turned to admire his chariot once more.

* *

Maja’s father and brother were too concerned with their own people, so they sent Maja to attend and listen in on the war plans that Bjorn and the other Ragnarssons were plotting. Not that Maja was complaining about that, she was quite satisfied with being around Ivar. One day when Ivar and Maja were alone, sitting down by a stream that ran by Kattegat, Ivar confided in her about something.

‘’Who do you think should be the head of this great army?’’ He began slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. Maja picked at some grass next to her as she pondered the question.

‘’All the sons of Ragnar should lead,’’ Maja finally replied, ‘’Why must there be one leader? You are all going to England for the same thing; to avenge your father.’’ Ivar rolled his eyes but he did not look over to the girl.

‘’Well I think I should lead this army. My father chose me, not my brothers, to go with him to England. He told me that I should bring revenge upon the Saxons, and that is exactly what I intend to do, and after that, I will get my revenge on Lagertha as well.’’ He declared in his drawling tone. Maja watched his hand clench into a fist and she knew that he was not joking.

‘’You’re quite ambitious for such a young man.’’ Maja said in a light tone, ‘’Especially for one who has never seen battle.’’ Ivar shot her a glare but said nothing, just let out a growl of frustration. Maja raised her eyebrows in surprise. Ivar was well-known for having a hot temper, one that could turn violent quickly, but however many times Maja heckled him and teased him, he seemed to keep his anger in check.

‘’You think you can convince your brothers to let you lead the great army?’’ Maja asked, leaning closer to Ivar.

‘’I guess we shall see.’’ He said, still not turning to look at her.

‘’And what of Lagertha? I’m sure Bjorn wouldn’t simply step aside and let you kill his mother.’’ Ivar now turned to look at Maja, his blue eyes meeting hers which made her heart clench with nerves. A little smile grew on his face as he spoke in a confident tone.

‘’In the end, no matter what, Lagertha will die at my hands. I have sworn this on the Gods.’’

* * *

taglist: @youbloodymadgenius

#vikings imagine #vikings fanfiction #vikings #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless imagine #yummycastiel #ivar x ofc #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #bjorn #ivar x reader

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solinarimoon · 4 years ago

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Little Sea - Part I

AN: This is my first time writing outside of The Last Kingdom fandom, but I originally joined tumblr to find Hvitserk content. So I hope my writing for him does it justice. This is for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie Congratulations on your milestone love! This story is a Vikings/TLK crossover but Sihtric is basically placed into the Vikings universe. I know in our heads these two belong in the same universe, so enjoy. My prompt was a reimagining of The Little Mermaid fairytale. The story got too long so I am breaking it into two parts. Sjór means sea in Old Norse, at least according to one website I found. I have more notes at the end of part two.

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love, suicidal imagery/implications, Vikings canon Ivar cruelty

My Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She swam, racing the currents in the sea. The water’s hazy depths constantly shifted and mottled in a swirling dance. Hues of blue and green mixed with inky darkness but faded to the rays of the sun’s light filtering through from the surface.

The cold temperatures below the fathoms began to warm as Alba swam towards the surface. Swishing her fins, she felt the drag of the water as she climbed higher until slowing and ultimately stopping herself just before breaching the surface.

His face stared down at her above the water. His lips spoke words that she could not hear. His face was calm and serene. Happy.

The only sound was the rushing tumult of waves breaking, crashing upon rocks at the base of a cliff.

Alba flicked her tail trying in vain to break through the surface. She wanted nothing more than to rise above the water and envelop Hvitserk in her arms.

The fear and the panic began to rise instead. And without warning, Alba felt her terror intensify as her tail had been replaced with two legs. Hvitserk’s face grew farther and farther away while she sank back below the dark depths.

~~~~~~~~

Alba woke with a start, sitting up in her bed and breathing heavily. Her hands clung to the furs draped across her, pulling them aside to reveal two legs and feet. The sight still seemed surreal to her.

This was not the first night she had awoken from this dream. It was occurring more and more often as she felt the pull to return to the sea. Return home. And as she watched Hvitserk continue to move further and further away from her.

Slowly, the young woman stood from her bed steadying herself as her legs wavered like someone returning to shore after living on a ship for weeks. She draped a cowl of furs around herself and pushed aside the door leading from her small hut on to the beach.

Only a few paces brought Alba up to the water’s edge. The waves lapped over her toes and Alba breathed easier. Salty spray drifted across the cove where the waves were always harsh and ragged against the cliffs to the north.

Alba trained her eyes on the grey horizon, watching as the mist began to fade and the shadows melted away. She breathed in the taste of the ocean’s air and for a moment felt content.

But that moment was broken when she noticed a set of forlorn footsteps approaching her.

“I knew you would be up and on the beach already.”

His voice was low and groggy as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders with a gentle squeeze. Alba wondered if he had seen his own bed that night.

“I wish I could help you find whatever you are looking for on the water, little Sjór.”

Alba turned her face ever so slightly to question him with a silent gaze. And to see his braids looking disheveled. And a small bruise just under his jaw.

“When we met, it was not unlike this,” Hvitserk paused when Alba turned her face towards him fully, furrowing her brow in confusion. “I mean it was very different because I still have no idea how a half drowned young woman came to be lying between the rocks on the north edge of the cove, covered by nothing but a ragged boat sail,” his lips had pursed slightly trying to ward of the smirk Alba knew he was fighting. Shuffling his feet in the sand and clearing his throat, he continued, “so it was different but you also still had that look I see so often. The one you had moments ago. Like you’ve lost something. And you’re waiting for it to return to you.”

Alba turned her eyes back to gaze across the water before dropping her face to the sand with a huff. “Looking for your voice, perhaps?”

Alba looked up with her mouth dropped open in shock to see the young man grinning fully while she pushed him lightly away. Hvitserk let out a true laugh before wrapping his arm once more around Alba’s shoulder. Comfortable and brotherly.

Scuffing a bare foot in the sand, Alba moved away from his side and began ambling down the beach knowing Hvitserk would follow.

It was no use trying to hold that one sided conversation again. Part of the enchantment prevented her from revealing the truth about where she came from, about what she was…is…would be once more. So even if they played a crude pantomime game, she still could not reveal if his guess were to be correct.

Her time on land was almost spent. Her time with him would come to an end. Alba knew in her heart that Hvitserk was not in love with her. And the binding nature of the enchantment would not bend. No matter how much love she felt for him. Or how much she had become endeared to him. That was not the problem. He did love her. But it was not true love. Not for him. So she would return to the sea, but not today.

Alba sighed, straightened her shoulders and raised her head, breaking herself from her thoughts.

She turned to look at Hvitserk walking alongside her, scuffing his boots beside her bare feet. Gently, Alba reached out her hand and tapped his neck where she’d noticed the small bruise.

Hvitserk met her eyes with a mischievous smile.

“Oh that, there? That is nothing, little Sjór. Only a slight bite I received from one of the forest trolls while I was searching for mushrooms.”

The pair laughed at his jest, her silently and him with gentle chuckles before he continued, sincerity beginning to lace its way into his words.

“I was with Thora last night.”

Alba arched an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, again.” Hvitserk chuckled lightheartedly. He missed Alba’s eyebrows relax and the smile on her face fall as she listened to him talk about the new woman.

~~~~~~~~~~

Alba woke to the sound of rain pelting the thatch roof of her small cottage. Sleepily, she opened her eyes just as a streak of lightning illuminated the sky. She had seen the flash through the leaking cracks of her shutters.

Several moments later the booming echo of Thor’s hammer against the clouds brought a slight curve to her mouth. A rain storm was dangerous on the water. Perilous. But under the water, Alba and her sisters had been fond of watching the crash and roll of the tumultuous waves. The lightning scattering crystalline lights across the surface of the water. A beautiful orchestra of light and movement.

A rain storm did not startle her. A rain storm felt like home. Alba nestled further down into her furs, feeling their weight and warmth bringing her back to sleep.

Except this thunderous booming continued on far longer than any true thunderclap. And it was now accompanied by a muffled voice.

Hvitserk.

No one else ever came to her door. Barely another soul knew she even existed or much less where she dwelled.

Alba opened the door to a torrent of rain blocked only by Hvitserk’s tall frame.

For a moment, they stood staring at one another, the rain continuing to sleet down on them.

In the dark, Alba could barely make out the features of his face. She searched his face, her eyes questioning. But only for a moment before Alba grabbed his arm, ushering him inside and closing the door.

In two strides, Alba moved across the room to gather up the furs from her bed and drape them across Hvitserk’s shoulders then settling him down on the short bench next to her cookfire. Alba stoked up the flames from the low burning embers before turning on her knees to look at him.

Beads of rainwater still tracked down the strands of his hair that had come free from his braids and he had made no move to wipe the dampness from his face.

He met her eyes as he spoke, “It’s Ivar,” he stated simply.

Alba shuffled closer to him and placed her hand on his arm, atop the furs.

“He is sending me as his messenger to King Olaf. In Norway,” Hvitserk paused to turn his head. He clasped his hands together while bringing them up to rest against his mouth. He was staring off towards the other side of the room. His next words were muffled against his fist.

“I don’t know what my brother thinks he is going to do,” he chuckled then continued, “my brother the god king.”

Alba starred while Hvitserk worked through whatever thoughts were raging in his mind. Increasingly in the past weeks, Hvitserk’s worry over his brother’s rule in Kattegat had grown. Though he did not often openly criticize Ivar, it was clear to Alba that he carried many burdens for his younger brother. Burdens that left him questioning his path and his fate. And questioning the path his brother was forging.

The young woman scooted herself closer to him and placed her palm against his cheek, lightly pulling his face back to meet hers.

She saw the torment and frustration in his brow. It was mirrored on her own face. She opened her mouth but could only huff and furrow her brow more. Sighing, Alba looked around the room, searching for everything and nothing before finally settling her eyes back onto him.

“Even if you had words, little Sjór, there are none you could speak that would save me.”

At this, Alba felt her face shift from frustration to concern, her eyes frantically searching his face for more answers.

“I must do as Ivar bids. And I leave you behind to deal with Ivar’s tyranny. His madness.” Hvitserk dropped his head into his hands, continuing to talk. His words came more easily now as his emotions boiled over. “And my love, Thora. I leave her behind but she does not have the anonymity you do to protect her. I fear for her. I fear what Ivar may do to her while I am away.”

Hvitserk hung his head and sighed heavily. Alba felt her chest stutter as she realized she was holding back tears. He truly did love Thora. And Alba could not help herself from liking the young woman as well.

Hvitserk had brought Thora to the beach to meet her one day. And though it made her heart ache, Alba could not deny that she saw the love that was blooming there. From the casual way that she saw their bodys lean into one another to the way Hvitserk watched Thora when she did not know he was watching. While Alba was watching him. That night, she had cried silent tears alone on the beach, while the ocean’s mist cried with her. And the ache in her chest now was the same.

Trying her best to quell the sobs threatening to escape her lungs, Alba shifted herself once more to sit beside him on the bench. Gently, she cradled him in her arms and stroked back the strands of his hair, now drying by the heat from the fire. Hvitserk hugged her knees and closed his eyes for a moment, taking comfort from the care and love in Alba’s touch.

“I will miss you while I am away. I know you enjoy your solitude. But if you can, keep an eye out for my Thora. Ivar has made comments. Said things that make me fear she may be a target for his frustration. She sees how dangerous Ivar has become. It threatens him.”

The more Hvitserk continued on, the more Alba’s heart continued to tear. Her prince's concern and worry was for another. He was in love with another. She let out a silent sob, but laying in her lap, Hvitserk felt the jolt of her body. The pain she could no longer hold back.

Sitting up, he questioned, “What is it, Sjór?”

Alba closed her eyes and felt the tears cascade down her face as she shook her head.

Hvitserk took her face in his hands, turning his body so that he straddled the bench. The furs around his shoulders dropped to the ground, forgotten.

“Hey, hey look at me?”

Alba opened her eyes to see concern etched across his features. Silently cursing her tears, she pushed his hands away and stood, wrapping her arms around herself and stepping away towards the door. He was tormented enough and did not need to add her pain to his. A pain that she could not explain to him.

“Sjór, I….” He started, standing to face her and grabbing her arms, firm but gentle. His words fell silent as he watched the tears continue to track down her cheeks.

Huffing in frustration, Alba wiped the tears away. The two stood silent except for Alba’s shaky breaths for several moments.

Finally, Alba brought her fist up to thump against her chest. Over her heart. Gathering her courage, she took her fist, relaxing her fingers and placed her hand over Hvitserk’s own heart. And then brought her head to rest against her hand, feeling his breath and the questions in his stance.

Taking a step back and removing her hand to wipe another stray tear, Alba met his eye. With more force she took her fist to thump against his chest. In the same spot, over his heart.

Looking down to her hand, Alba tapped her fist against him once more then brought her hand up and pointed a single finger towards her window. Towards Thora, towards his love.

She watched as Hivitserk’s brow, a deep line of confusion, slowly relaxed. A look of realization spread across his face.

To then be replaced by something more unbearable.

Pity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bare feet found their way along the soft mosses and lichen carpeting the ground up the paths surrounding the northern side of the cove. Alba stepped slow and deliberate, feeling the air growing cooler. The spray of the mist off the sea left salty pin pricks of water glistening across her bare arms.

Low in the distance, the rumble of thunder rolled. As she crested the height of the cliffs, Alba found the crash of the waves joining in the thrum of the oncoming storm. The energy in the air was mounting. Mirroring Alba’s rising anguish.

Thora was dead. A cruel and horrifying death.

Ivar was rampaging. His madness was building and unstable.

And Hvitserk. Her sweet Hvitserk was gone. If Ivar was to be believed...If what he said was true, he was lost. Dead at the orders of King Olaf.

Alba fell to her knees at the cliff's edge. Her hands gripped tight onto the sharp rock’s edge. The rough surface painful and grating at the pads of her fingers. She clung to the edge. Her eyes staring down at the waves below. The maelstrom of the waves calling to her. To end her suffering. End the anguish and pain.

Alba stood, the wind whipping her dress as the rain began, drops gently splattering across the terrain. The young woman looked up towards the clouds and closed her eyes, feeling tears spill over across her cheeks.

Silently, Alba let the anguish wash over her. Knowing he was lost. And the sea was calling her to return.

Alba’s time on legs would soon be done. She had not found her love returned. And she could not stay. The pull of the sea was calling to her stronger and stronger. Her sisters called to her to return to them.

Slowly, she dropped her face back down to the tumult below and took a step forward.

“Don’t!”

The voice stopped her movements. The roll of thunder boomed again. Several tense moments passed before Alba heard the voice again.

“Please don’t.”

The voice was deep and soothing. But Alba could sense something else behind the words. Panic. Desperation.

Weakly, she turned to face the nameless voice, her head turning back to look across her shoulder. The rain was cascading in steady rivulets now. Mingling with the tears staining Alba’s face. Her dress had quickly become sodden and clung to her skin.

When her eyes came to the tree line, she saw him.

He was tall. Dark. His hair plastered to the sides of his face from the rain. Hands raised to indicate he was no threat to her.

Slowly, tentatively the man stepped forward to stand beside her before he spoke again.

Alba’s eyes tracked his movements.

When he was close enough to touch her, he spoke once more.

“Please. Do not succumb to it.”

When Alba did nothing but stare, the man continued, “To your grief. Please.”

It was the please that caught her. The gentleness and the kindness in his eyes as he pleaded with her.

His arms caught her as she collapsed atop the cliff, allowing the despair to wash over her.

The man held her while she cried, silent sobs that shook her to her core. Her fingers twisting and clinging to the folds of his shirt. His arms steady and firm around her shoulders as he cradled her. He held her until she stilled while the rains continued their lament. And when she was half asleep, ruined with exhaustion he carried her back down the path.

He settled her down underneath his own roof, beside a comfortable fire to dry her clothes and hair.

The man handed her a small bowl full of warm broth.

“Go ahead,” he coaxed, “you must get dry and eat. You do not want to catch cold. And then you should sleep.”

When Alba stared at him questioningly, he added, “You have nothing to fear from me. I am called Sihtric.”

~~~~~~~~~~~ To be continued in part II

Tagging my usuals. Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my taglist.

Tags: @maggiescarborough @pokeasleepingsmaug @nxrdist @mystic-shadows42 @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites @lauwrite1225 @morosemagick @thebohemianpenguin @mrsalwayswrite @notyourwildestdream @obipoelover-deactivated20210806 @ecarroll1978 @93xdiagonxalley @nobodys-business-world @evelynshelby @trenko-heart @0hsappho

#cherrypie’s500 #Hvitserk #vikings #sihtric #the last kingdom #deans ch ch cherrypie #Hvitserk x OC #sihtric x OC #vikings/the last kingdom crossover #hvitserk vikings #hvitserk x ofc #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #fanfiction

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mads-weasley · 17 days ago

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Ch. 13: Fevered Truths

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Eira Torsteinsdottir (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Summary: Eira confronts her shifting feelings for Hvitserk as she battles lingering memories, her illness, and an unexpected trust in the man who has stayed by her side.

Word Count: 1.6k

Flames. They licked the edges of her vision, eating away at the trees and crackling like the hiss of a serpent. Among the smoke, a battlefield stretched before her, and its cacophony of clashing steel and dreams made her head pound.

What battle was this? Who was fighting?

She stood frozen in the center of it, barefoot on the icy ground as the fighting raged around her. Something warm trickled down her arm…blood, but she couldn’t tell if it was hers.

Eira stepped through the battle, untouched by the warriors as if she were invisible to them, like a Valkyrie choosing men to go to Valhalla. From the chaos came a familiar cry.

“Eira!”

She spun toward the sound, and her heart stopped when she saw him. Vali. He was fighting just ahead of her, his axe swinging powerfully as he struck one enemy after another. Just the sight of his dark eyes and short, braided hair brought tears to her eyes.

He was alive!

“Vali!” she screamed.

He looked up at her, his fearsome expression softening for a fleeting moment into relief, recognition…but then it twisted into something else: horror. Eira’s legs felt frozen in place as she watched a blade pierce through his stomach, its sharp point gleaming crimson. Vali’s mouth opened in a silent scream, his knees buckling. Time slowed as he fell, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud that echoed in her ears.

Then she saw who held the shining blade.

Ivar the Boneless.

He stood over Vali’s body with a cruel smirk as he leaned on his crutch. Blood dripped from the sword onto the snow, staining it red. Slowly raising the blade to his mouth, he licked it before smiling wider, his teeth stained pink.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, no, no.”

Then the scene shifted again. Vali’s body disappeared as if swallowed by the earth, and the battlefield faded into a black void. Eira spun around, her heart hammering in her chest, and she jumped roughly at the terrifying face before her. She tried to back away, to run from him, but her feet wouldn’t move.

“You think you can escape this?” Ivar asked, tilting his head. “You can’t run from me.”

His sword plunged into her stomach before she could scream, the sharp, hot pain stealing the air from her lungs. She gasped, looking down at the blade protruding from her, then looked back up to see Ivar’s face was only inches from hers. His lips twisted into a sneer.

“You will never escape me,” he hissed. Then he shoved her back, and she fell, his menacing figure wisping away into darkness.

Eira’s eyes flew open, her breath hitching in her throat as her hand flew to her stomach. The room was dark, lit only by the dying embers in the hearth, but it took a moment for her to remember where she was. Her chest heaved as she tried to calm herself. Her body trembled beneath the weight of the furs, and the ache in her stomach was still there, phantom pain from the dream.

Her gaze darted around the room, and then she saw him. Slumped in the chair beside her bed was Hvitserk, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted at an awkward angle. His mouth hung slightly open and soft snores escaped him. His steady breathing was the only sound in the room, a quiet rhythm that anchored her to reality.

Eira swallowed hard, her throat dry and scratchy. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to shake the lingering images of the dream. Despite her efforts, Vali’s horrified face remained in the forefront of her mind, and it tore at her heart. She’d tried not to think about exactly how he’d died, tried not to picture it, but her dream, no, nightmare, destroyed that. Her only comfort was that he was feasting in Valhalla with his father, and her father for that matter. Vali’s father, Bodil, was their mother’s first husband and had been killed shortly after he was born. It was where he’d gotten his brown eyes and tar-black hair from. He and Eira were opposites in appearance, but they were brother and sister, through and through.

She opened her eyes again and allowed her gaze to drift to Hvitserk. He looked uncomfortable, his taller frame crammed into the too-small chair, but there was something strangely peaceful about him in sleep. His usual guarded expression was gone, replaced by something softer, almost boyish. She’d never seen him like this before. Vulnerable.

It brought a small smile to her face.

A sense of peace washed over Eira as she watched him, and her guilt over their unnamed association seemed to fade. Here he was taking care of her with nothing to gain, no ulterior motive, no deception, and no power play behind his actions. Glancing over at Vali’s carved wolf on the nightstand, she thought back to the nightmare. Hvitserk was not Ivar. He was not cruel, manipulating, or deceiving. He was…Hvitserk. He was his own man outside of his brother's shadow. One with a heart, a conscience, and who wanted to right his wrongs.

Surely Vali would see that. Surely he would understand? Eira prayed to the gods he would.

Her thoughts began to spiral from there. Why was he still here? Why had he stayed? She didn’t know when her feelings toward him had started to shift. Hatred had been easy in the beginning…he was Ivar’s brother, and Ivar had taken everything from her. Hatred gave way to annoyance when he insisted on meddling in her life, showing up at the most inconvenient times.

But lately, that annoyance had faded, replaced by something more complicated. She didn’t hate him anymore. She didn’t even dislike him. If anything, she found his company…bearable. Sometimes even comforting.

Eira swallowed hard, her chest tightening as she realized just how much her feelings had changed. When had this happened? How had this happened?

She didn’t know, but she did know that she trusted him…or was at least starting to.

As she took a deep breath, something tickled her throat, and a harsh cough broke free from her chest before she could stop it. The sound was sharp as broken glass, and it rattled her entire sore body. The pain in her throat flared, and she winced, holding a hand to her throat. It felt as if the cough had torn through her insides, leaving an aching trail behind it.

The sudden noise sliced through the room’s stillness, and Eira froze, realizing too late that it had woken Hvitserk. His eyes fluttered open, confused and bleary at first, before they focused on her.

“Eira?” His voice was rough from sleep, and he straightened in the chair, barely concealing a wince from his stiff muscles.

She gave a weak, half-hearted wave of her hand, trying to dismiss the cough, but it flew to cover her mouth as another fit wracked through her body. She winced, her eyes watering as her body trembled with the strain.

Hvitserk stood quickly and poured a cup of water at the table, his long legs making quick work of closing the distance between them. He crouched beside the bed and helped her sit up against the headboard before holding out the cup. “Here.”

“I’m fine,” Eira managed to croak out, but her voice betrayed her, and she coughed again. After a moment, she avoided his gaze and took the cup from him, their fingers brushing lightly.

His eyes watched her intently as she sipped the cool liquid, allowing her eyes to flutter shut at the relief it offered. When she finished, Hvitserk set the cup aside and slowly reached his hand towards her forehead, as if giving her time to object if she wished. She didn’t, and his cool hand gently pressed against her forehead. A small shiver ran through her at the coolness of his touch.

His shoulders dropped, losing their tension, and his lip twitched into a flicker of a smile as his gaze lowered. “Your fever’s gone,” he said softly.

“Good riddance,” Eira muttered. She peered over at him, her own weakened grin tugging at her lips. “You haven’t killed me yet, Hvitserk, so it seems you’re not a bad healer after all.”

“Don’t worry, there’s still time for that,” he teased, a genuine smile forming as he raised his brow. “I did have a good teacher.”

His fingers twitched as if he hadn’t realized he was still touching her, and Eira caught the brief flash of awkwardness that crossed his features. His eyes darted away quickly, as if suddenly aware of the intimacy of the gesture, and he pulled his hand back with a muttered apology. The familiar comfortable silence momentarily filled the air between them again. Eira chewed at the inside of her cheek as her mind wrestled with itself.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked finally, her voice uncharacteristically timid.

Hvitserk nodded and leaned his elbows on his knees to lean closer. “Sure.”

Eira took a deep breath before replying, thanking the gods it didn’t incite a coughing fit. “Why are you here? Why have you been helping me?”

He stared at her for a few seconds, his brow furrowing and upper lip twitching as his mind attempted to formulate an answer. The stormy look in his eyes told her he was conflicted.

“I need to prove I’m not Iva-”

“I know you’re not him, Hvitserk,” she interrupted, her voice dropping. “I know that. And I think you do, too.”

Hvitserk let out a quick exhale under his breath and he looked away from her, a split-second, lopsided smirk returning to his expression. But he remained silent.

“Why are you here, Hvitserk?” Eira pressed ever-so gently, her heart racing as she waited for his reply.

He met her eyes at last. “Maybe I want to be,” he muttered, breaking from her gaze and looking down at his wrist to play with his armband.

A/N: message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3

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istorkyou · 1 year ago

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A Thousand Battles (Modern Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings - Gun and knife violence, death, language, alcohol use.

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

Word Count-

Masterlist

Chapter 12

“Baby? Where are you?” Ivar bellows as he walks through the door. He has had an amazing day business wise. Legitimate deals made, lots of money, lots of real estate acquired, a great day for The Lothbroks and he is in the best mood he’s been in for a long while.

“I’m in the studio.”

He hurries to her. “Baby, get your fine ass ready, we are going out tonight!” He nudges her off her stool and smacks her ass lightly.

“Going out? Up to the main house?” The familiar flutter of dread in her stomach starts.

“Nope. I’m taking you out for a meal and then we are meeting the brothers and wives after to go dancing. Well, you will be dancing, I will be watching you like a perv on the sidelines. We had a very productive work day and we are all going out to celebrate.”

“You are joking.” But she can see from his face he isn’t joking at all. She squeals in delight at the prospect of a date, some time away from the house, just the two of them and then dancing after, she squeals again. “What shall I wear?”

“The sexiest thing you own. The more skin the better,” he grabs her face and kisses her roughly. “Hang on,” he checks his watch, “yep, we’ve got time. Get naked, I want to fuck you before we go out.”

————————

Two hours later they are sitting in a dimly lit Italian restaurant enjoying pasta, wine and the conversation, no security guards invading their privacy, Ivar instructed them to stay outside the restaurant.

Ivar can’t keep his hands off of her in her strappy, floaty, rose gold, silk dress that clings to her exactly where it should.

“I’ve got to stop eating, I’m going to pop!” she sits back giving her stomach a pat. “Any more food and I won’t be up for dancing later.”

“Oh you better dance for me, I want to see that dress on the dance floor.”

He carries on eating and she sits back watching her husband with pride. He really is beautiful to look at and she is so happy to be on his arm. The niggling thoughts threatening to drag her happiness down are pushed away quickly. Locked in the depths where they belong. Compartmentalised expertly.

She sees his eyes flit to the door and then do a double take, straightening his spine, hand disappearing under the table. As his face turns to stone her stomach drops. She doesn’t look round. She can hear a group of men, seven she thinks, enter the restaurant and sit down, demanding menus and drinks. In Russian.

Ivar observes them, getting his phone out and texting quickly.

She listens to the men, she doesn’t recognise any of the voices as anyone from her past, but she is loath to look around and check, just in case. Then their conversation changes

“Security for who? Fucking useless. Even more useless now!” The whole party erupts in laughter.

Her stomach drops to her shoes but she needs to keep herself in check.

“Are you ok, Ivar? Who did you text.”

“No one, love, nothing to worry about.” But as she watches the reply come up on his screen and she can see the absolute dissatisfaction with the words he read, his jaw ticking in annoyance.

Then she hears it.

“Look over there. Is that a Lothbrok? Is that the cripple one? Fuck, was it his security?” The first one says.

“Jesus, it is him!” The second voice offers.

The third one confirms it. “That is definitely him. Look. It is him. No mistake. Well, well…”

She breathes in deeply through her nose. They are in trouble. “Ivar. Who can get here faster? Brothers or security?

“What? Why?” He glances past her and sees them staring at him. “Hvitserk is the closest. Security isn't answering.”

“They won’t answer. Call your brother. Do it, Ivar.”

He wastes no time and Hvitserk says he is five minutes away.

“Julietta?” Ivar questions her, eyebrows drawn close. “What is it?”

She glances over her shoulder and weighs them up in less than four seconds before turning back to Ivar.

They all have weapons, three are a real threat judging by their size and visible scarring. Two are older and likely the easiest to take out and two are unknown entities. The scariest of the group, the ones to be taken down first. She couldn’t make out which of them is the leader. She knows they aren’t Olegs men. There was no hint of recognition in their faces when they looked at hers.

“Look at the whore he is with. What I would do to her body…” she hears another say. She rolls her shoulders back, loosening the muscles subtlety. The word whore always makes her blood boil. If it comes to it she will kill that one first.

“We need to get out of here, Ivar. Let’s leave, I have a bad feeling.” First thing in any situation like this one, try and leave with no confrontation.

He peers around her, weighing up the men and she reads his face like a book. Ego. Pure, unadulterated ego and surety he can take them, but as he looks back at her she sees his face change as it dawns on him the situation he is in. In his mind his vulnerable wife is with him, totally helpless. If only she could tell him that she could take out all these men and not even break a sweat. But that is not possible.

He stands up first, doing up his suit button, head tipped arrogantly watching the group, as if daring them to challenge him. When he holds his hand out she sees the faintest hint of a tremble in it and when she puts her hand in he realises it’s fear for her, because he doesn’t know her capabilities.

They only get a few feet from their table before two of the men walk to them and Ivar pulls her behind him.

“You are Ivar Lothbrok?” One asks in English and casually opens his jacket to reveal his gun.

Ivar’s eyes travel to it and back to the giant man in front of him, not changing his expression at all. He turns his face ever so slightly to the side, eyes remain on the men in front of him and he addresses her. “My love, go and sit back down at the table in the corner. This won’t take long.”

The struggle inside of her is real, a waging war of being Liet but knowing it’s Etta who is needed here, to fight at the side of her husband. Luckily, at that moment Hvitserk strides in and takes his place at his brother's side.

“Evening Brother, it seems I have impeccable timing.”

Ivar smirks before addressing Liet again. “Sit down over there, love.” She takes a step into him letting the two knives she discreetly picked up off the tables slip from behind her forearm and tucks them both into the waistband of the back of his trousers. His head swivels to her, questioning her.

She kisses his cheek before whispering into his ear. “Two knives, love. Smallest guy first. He’s the threat.”

He frowns at her but she just nods at him, confirming his understanding and walks slowly to sit down, as instructed.

His attention turns back to the group. “I am Ivar Lothbrok. You are?”

The man laughs. “I am the man responsible for your death.”

Ivar and Hvitserk look at each other and start laughing. “What are you a Bond villain? Responsible for my death,” Ivar mocks mercilessly. “You want to make a name for yourself? We all put our guns over there..” he points to the far corner of the room, “..and we settle this with fists. Two against seven. You all look like you eat your spinach, shouldn’t be too hard now should it? My wife is here, I do not want bullets flying around in the presence of my woman.”

He takes his gun out first, bends down slowly and slides it across the floor to the other side of the room. They all look at each other, rattled by Ivar’s actions. A silent agreement is arrived at and they all do the same.

She takes notes of all the guns. She knows which she will go for if needs be.

Hvitserk does the same.

“Excellent. Now we fight like men.”

Whilst they are distracted Hvitserk punches the main one, breaking his nose and Ivar does the same to the smaller man.

In the commotion she slips around the fight and picks up two of the guns, kicking the others further away.

She looks back in time to see Ivar throw Hvitserk one of the knives she stashed on him and they both drive the blades into the flesh of two of the men. One of them gets the drop on Hvitserk who is knocked unconscious. When Ivar sees Hvitserk he screams at them, blood dripping from his face. Not his own blood.

A part of her she usually keeps locked away is released as she watches her fearless husband in action. She’s never seen him fight, never seen him violent. Gods the look on his face makes her want to rip his clothes off and fuck him here and now. Her senses return as she sees five of them start to surround him, circling him like sharks sniffing out blood in the water.

As Julietta watches Ivar screaming at them to come at him she knows she has no choice. There is no outcome in this that will end in anything other than the death of her beloved.

She has to expose her secret now or Ivar dies right in front of her eyes. She knows that showing who she really is, was, is signing her own death warrant but it’s that or she watches the love of her life get beaten to death.

No contest.

“Stop!” She screams in Russian. “Enough!”

The use of Russian stops all their feet and all heads in the room fly to her.

She straightens up, shoulder back, head lifted in defiance.

“Do you know who I am?” she asks in English, chin raised haughtily and she glides across the floor to stand coming to stop between Ivar and the men.

This is Etta.

“Julietta? Get behind me. What the fuck are you doing?” Ivar tries to grab her arm but she pulls away gently, eyes still on the men. With her hand behind her back she points to her leg showing Ivar her hitched up dress, showing him the two guns tucked into two leather garter belts. As she shifts her other hand discreetly she shows him a sharp knife tucked behind her arm, the hilt sitting in her hand, all completely concealed from the men.

The air behind her moves as Ivar steps towards her, she keeps her eyes on the men.

“Liet, what is happening?” He whispers.

She ignores him and asks them again, this time in Russian. “I asked you if you know who I am? I am the daughter of Oleg and this is not a fight you want. You are not my fathers men, so who do you work for? I suggest you tell me so I know who to report your deaths to.”

They look back and forth between each other, faces painted with ridiculous confusion.

“Answer me. I asked you a simple question. Are you all to stupid to reply?” She walks slowly, side stepping along the line of men in front of her. Her gaze dragging up and down the men. “Do I need to ask you in English? You don’t understand the mother tongue?” She mocks them, walking slowly in front of them.

Their eyes follow her, mouths agape like the idiots they are.

Julietta stops in front of one of them. “You. Answer me immediately.”

The man fumbles for words. “You are not Olegs daughter. Lying bitch. And you are here with him,” gesturing to Ivar, “the son of Olegs' sworn enemy? Bullshit.”

“Ah so that is your purpose, you have decided to make a name for yourselves but trying to kill my husband and my brother in law because they are my fathers enemies?” She tuts at them, scolding them like children as she glances over at Hvitserk, his chest is moving. Alive.

One moves slightly and she quickly lets the knife slip into her hand and points it at the man. “Uh.” She says quickly. “Do not move to me. That is not a very smart move, not that I expect smart moves from people like you. You want to make names for yourself tonight? My father doesn’t want them dead, you morons,” she spits the words dismissively.

They all look at each other in confusion until one bravely pipes up. “I’m to believe you are Russian mafia royalty? That you are married to him?! You look like nothing more than a whore the disgusting cripple has to pay to be with him.”

She swings her head towards the man speaking, again calling her a whore. She wants nothing more than to press her thumbs into the man’s eyeballs and hear him scream but she gathers her patience and rolls her eyes tutting again. “Well that is not very polite is it? Now, me and my husband are going to walk out of here and you will sit your stupid asses down and be grateful you are getting out with your lives. I love to hurt men like you and will kill if needs be. Do not give me any reason to take it that far. Do not underestimate me.”

She is waiting for their new leader to step up so she knows who to take out first.

“Liet?” Ivar’s confused voice comes from behind her. “Russian?”

“Ivar, my love, I will explain everything. Just not right now.” She looks slowly at him over shoulder. “Be ready baby,” she whispers, eyes flitting down, letting him know to grab the guns stashed on her.

“You are not going anywhere,” one shouts at her in English.

He’s the new leader then.

She replies in English. “It is a shame you have chosen this path. I did not wish to get blood on my pretty gown this evening. And my husband didn’t even get to finish his meal. Terribly inconsiderate of you all,” she drawls sarcastically.

She throws the knife at his throat and it lands exactly where she means it to, straight through his larynx, at the same time she feels Ivar take both guns. She spins to the left and blocks a punch from one, landing a headbutt into his nose, breaking it. She can hear gunshots from behind her and the thud of two falling bodies.

She breaks the leg of the last man standing before her and as he drops to his knees she gets behind him, holding his neck in the crook of her elbow.

“STOP!!” She screams in Russian as she sees an enemy with his gun at the temple of Hvitserk, still unconscious on the floor. She knows Ivar is safe, only one other left and Ivar’s gun is trained on the enemy, whose hands are up in surrender.

Everyone halts.

She addresses the man with the gun on her Hvitserk. “Put it down or your brother gets his neck snapped right here, right now.” The familial genes are evident in their bone structure. She thinks she said it in Russian but Ivar’s eyes flicking from her to his brother know she spoke English by mistake. “Your English is good?” He nods once. “I play no games here. Your brother will die if my husbands brother does. Except your brother will know it, he will feel his heart slow and he will feel his neck snap. Take your gun away from my brother's head and yours will live.” Julietta threatens with absolute resolve.

He hesitates for long enough that she tightens her grip on the neck of the man on his knees, feeling the heat from the trapped blood in his face. His brother debates for less than five seconds before he holds both hands up, the gun rolling on his trigger finger.

She only has to look at her husband to exchange thoughts with no words. She grabs the side of her captives head and wrenches it around until the crunch of bone and sinew fills the air and as she drops the enemy’s lifeless body to the floor Ivar puts bullets in the remaining two enemy brains.

She looks up quickly to find Ivar’s gun pointing straight at her forehead.

“Don’t! Please don’t, Ivar. I can explain! I promise!” Her hands are raised in surrender.

“Who the fuck are you?” his eyes are wild with confusion.

Her face crumbles. “I’m your wife.”

“You are not my wife. Tell me who you are right now or I swear to god, Liet, I will shoot you between the eyes.”

“Please don’t, Ivar. I am your wife. I… I… My father is Oleg.”

Chapter 13

#modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern vikings #ubbe #modern!ubbe #modern!hvitserk #ivar x oc #ivar vikings #vikings #ivar ragnarsson x ofc #ragnar lothbrok #ivar fanfic #ivar imagine #vikings ivar

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oddsnendsfanfics · 5 years ago

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Allow me to introduce Hvitserk & Emmer

Remember a few weeks ago when I held the poll asking which character to write next? Hvitserk won (out of Finan, Sihtric, and Ubbe)

Let me explain a bit more about these two crazy kids. Hvitserk and Emmer have been friends for around seven years, they’ve tried dating on and off, but it never works. Emmer hates that Hvitserk is probably only interested in her, because he knows there is a very good chance that nobody else ever will.

Nobody has the time, romantically, for somebody who spends more time in a doctor’s office than they do anywhere else. Nobody really wants to date somebody who is ill, despite what they say. Nobody takes the time to get to really know somebody outside of their illness, once they find out.

Hvitserk has grown up with doctors and illness, taking care of somebody when they’re ill really isn’t all that difficult. If he’s been taught anything in life, an illness doesn’t make the person. And Emmer is way easier going than Ivar about these things.

We will likely see more of Hvitserk and Emmer come spring. My plan is to start posting in March! Fingers crossed! And thank you for those who helped me by voting :)

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr for the header

#holding on for dear life #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserk ragnarson #hvitserk lothbrok #modern hvitserk #hvitserk #hvitserk x ofc #marco ilsø #hvitserk ragnarsson fanfic #hvitserk lothbrok fanfic #vikings #vikings fanfiction #coming soon #ulcerative colitis #ostomy #ileostomy

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badwolf-in-the-impala · 6 years ago

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~The Cripple & The Bastard~

~Chapter 9: The Rescue~

Previous chapters: ((Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5 - Ch.6 - Ch.7 - Ch.8 - Ch.9))

Image Credit: Myself...no individual pictures are mine, but editing/collage is.

Pairings: Ivar the Boneless X OFC

Rating: NSFW/18+

Warnings: Verbal/physical abuse, violence, kidnapping, scars, sexual content.

Chapter Warnings: Kidnapping, mention of none-consensual touching, slavery, mention of scars, suggested prostitution.

A/N: This ones kinda short and sucky...I apologize in advance.

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The days seemed to pass by almost painfully slow now as Floki and Ivar's brothers traveled to some of the nearby towns in search of answers to Yara's whereabouts. Leaving Ivar behind -- much to his dislike -- in Kattegat with Helga; should Yara or Gunnbjorn happen to turn up in their absence.

It had taken much convincing on Floki's part to convince the ill tempered Ragnarson to stay behind and the more complaints he heard, courtesy of Sigurd, about how pointless all this searching was and how the girl was most likely dead; he felt it had been a wise decision.

At this point in their now three day journey, Floki was wondering why they even brought him along? Aside from the fact that Aslaug had insisted, but his negative attitude towards the searching was wearing on everyone's last nerve.

"Why is it you must complain so much, Sigurd?" Ubbe sighed in frustration as they stopped to water their horses. "If you do not wish to come, go.home."

"All I am saying, Brother, is this is pointless." Sigurd replied, rolling his eyes in annoyance at his older brother. "If she was still in or around Kattegat, we would have found her by now...she's probably dead or already been sold off as a Slave, and Ivar just needs to accept it already. Problem solved, we all get to go home."

"Sigurd, do us all a favor...shut up." Floki stated with a warning look. Forced to bite back on his rising temper when the boy shoved past him, mumbling under his breath.

"What if he is right, Floki?" Hvitserk questioned quietly. Watching as Floki ran a frustrated hand over his face several times.

"She is not dead." Floki stated firmly. "Do not ask how I know...I just...she is alive somewhere. I can feel it."

"We trust you, Floki." Ubbe reached out, clasping the older man’s shoulder tightly and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We may have our differences with Ivar, but he is our brother. We will search as long as we have to if it will put his mind at ease."

Floki had started to reply when the conversation was interrupted by a sudden shout from Sigurd, not far from where they stood by the small stream. The three men exchanging a confused glace before heading toward where they heard his voice. Pushing through branches and brush, eventually stumbling upon a small clearing within the woods. Evidence that it had recently been occupied was laid out before them as Sigurd nudged a half burned log with the toe of his boot.

"What do we have ourselves here?" Floki smirked as he knelt down to investigate some of the tracks that had been left imprinted in the earth. "I think we may have finally found what we've been looking for."

"How can you be so sure? Anyone could have camped here." Sigurd shrugged.

"While that is possible," Floki moved carefully along the ground, inspecting foot prints and other markings around the camp. "No one camps this far off the main road unless they do not wish to be found." Pleased with his findings, he stood and held out a small piece of frayed rope, grinning from ear to ear.

"It is also not likely that anyone would keep their guest bound, either."

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"Please, Miss...ye have to eat somethin’." A young red headed girl begged quietly as she held the small plate of food out to Yara. Flinching as she shoved it away again roughly, a scowl fixed to her face. The girl frowned in response. "Please... Master will not be happy if he finds out."

But Yara simply ignored her...she would sooner die than be forced to live the rest of her life like this. The girl gave an exasperated sigh before standing and muttering something in a language that Yara did not recognize before disappearing. A much older woman reappearing in her place not long after.

"Up with ye." She snapped, grabbing hold of Yara's arm roughly as she yanked her to her feet. The amount of strength the old woman possessed was startling to her as she drug her forward into the front room and sat her down a another table. "Damn Danes."

"If ye will not listen to the other girls, than ye best be listenin' to yer Elders; girl. Am I to be understood?" Yara nodded stiffly in response.

The woman stood beside her, one hand planted firmly on her hip and the other pointing to the plate of food before her on the table. Her wrinkled features scowling sternly, making Yara more than a little uncomfortable as she reluctantly took a bite of food. Her stomach grumbling as it hit bottom, greedily demanding more at the first real taste of food she'd had in weeks. The woman patted her head with a smirk, earning a growl as Yara narrowed her fiery green gaze up at the woman.

"Now, that was not so hard, was it?" Yara continued to glare, but shoveled down the rest of the plate regardless. "Ma name in Agnes." She introduced as she busied herself around the room. "I am charged with preparin' ye girls an makin' sure ye understand the rules." Yara watched with curiosity as the woman readied a large tub and some other items before clearing the now empty plate and cup from the table. She point to the tub. Yara frowned.

"Strip." The woman demanded firmly. "Or should I do it for ye?" She cocked an eyebrow, the corners of her lips tugging up into an amused grin as Yara's own frown deepened. Reluctantly undressing herself before climbing into the water and drawing her knees up to her chest tightly. The woman raised a questioning brow as she caught sight of the scars the littered the young girls body, but she didn't question it as she started to wash away the dirt and grime that covered her from head to toe.

"First rule, is ye are required to bathe daily." She stated, dumping a small bowl of water over the dark head of hair, Yara sputtering as the water ran over her face as the older woman quickly began working in an oily substance that smelled of lavender and other herbs before dousing her with water again.

"Here," A finely wrinkled hand appeared in front of her holding a chunk of sheep's milk soap. "Wash yer'self." Yara did so reluctantly as the woman continued to talk. "Second rule -- don't forget yer face -- do as yer told without question. Back talkin’ or speak outta turn, 'specially 'round the Master, will earn ye'll the beatin' of a lifetime...somethin' I'm judgin' ye understand well enough." Yara nodded slightly as she handed the soap back, frowning as more water was dumped over her.

"That's really all ye need know." The woman stated, motioning for Yara to step out of the tub. Drying her off quickly before pulling a thin linen shift over her head and sitting her back down at the table where she began combing through her hair.

"Jus' do what is asked of ye, and ye'll be fine." She patted her shoulder gently. "First times always the hardest." She sighed, gathering up her things and giving Yara a sympathetic, but hopeful, look. "I will be back later tonight to fetch ye."

Yara watched in stunned silence as the woman, left the room swiftly; locking the thick door behind her without another word. Leaving Yara to her own thoughts. She knew what was to happen...she had heard stories her whole life of places like this. Stories of Slavers who not only sold women like livestock, but who also sold their bodies for the profits of pleasure and she was at the top of every mans list.

She fought back the tears of anger that threatened to fall as she closed her eyes tightly; praying to the Gods for this not to be her fate. Praying that they would help her find a way out of this...protect her...keep her safe. Knowing good and well that she would never make it out of this situation alive otherwise.

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Agnes returned later that night as promised, ordering Yara to eat once more before binding her hands in front of her and leading her from the building she'd been kept in for the past few days and toward the outskirts of the little village.

Torches lit the path in front of them and soon they reached a well lit clearing that held a large platform and a number of larger tents that were sure to serve as rooms for the evenings events. The platform was lined with a dozen or more young girls like herself and Yara froze in her tracks at the sight; causing the older woman to stumble slightly before turning to give her a stern look. Her expression quickly softening as she noted the fear in the young girls eyes.

"Dinna fret, Lass." Agnes reassured, gently taking Yara's face between her hands. Stern brown orbs staring into emerald green for a moment before glancing somewhere out into the darkness behind her.

"I dinna believe much in the Gods as I use to, but I pray they're watchin' over ye tonight." She whispered quietly, tugging her arm as they started walking again, leading them up onto the platform with the other girls. Agnes gave her one final reassuring grin before disappearing from sight.

It wasn't too soon after that they were surrounded by strangers; being groped and touch as they went about inspecting each girl until they found one to their liking...Yara felt as though she was going to be sick. Her body trembling violently with cold and fear as her mind raced for a solution or means of escape. Eventually becoming so lost in her own thoughts and attempts to block out the men who were touching her, that she barely noticed the commotion that had broke out at the opposite end of the platform; that is, not until she felt the near bone crushing grip on her upper arm that pulled her from the platform and into the dark.

"Run!"

Yara didn't question it as they ran through the darkness and toward the treeline. Her heart pounding faster as the sounds of chaos erupted behind them in the clearing as they disappeared into the trees; but they didn't stop there.

Her rescuer gripped her arm tighter as they pushed forward, deeper and deeper into the woods until they broke through into a clearing on the opposite side. Stopping just short of a small cliff that overlooked the seas below them. Yara took a step backward, spinning around only to be caught against the chest of whoever had just saved her from an unsavory fate, only to be pushed closer toward the edge in return as shouting broke the silence within the forest behind them. Voices and shouting growing closer by the second.

"Are you insane?!" Yara shouted with a horrified expression as she looked up at the hooded figure, their face well hidden even in the growing moonlight. She dug her heels into the ground as hard as she could, but it was of little use as she was picked up and nearly crushed against the hooded figures chest.

"Do you trust me?" The deep voice asked.

Every logical thought that raced through her mind screamed "NO!" But the words that exited her mouth were of an entirely different nature. Coming out just barely above a whisper as she closed her eyes.

"Yes."

And without another word, they were plummeting toward the frigged waters below.

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Yara has been rescued! YAY! I mean she's currently plummeting off a cliff side into the sea with an unknown hooded figure, but YAY! Any guesses on who our hooded knight in shining armor might be?! Will it be someone she knows, or a total stranger?

Stay turned to find out!

Also, what do you think of Agnes' character? Would she be someone you'd be interested in seeing more of in this story? Let me know!

TAGLIST: @jacksonroth @captstefanbrandt @jade770 @12grimauldp @naaladareia @readsalot73 @that-goodgirl @greennightspider @microsmacrosandneedles @irishhiggins @terrainhead @dmv49@xxwarhawk @synnersaint

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jacksonroseroth · 7 years ago

Text

Sleepover

Some cute, fluffy Ivar smut. Enjoy!

Warnings: Smut

Words: 5,893

It was typical that Torvi invited all the Lothbroks over when Bjorn spent the night or came for dinner or any other gathering at their house and Tora didn’t mind much. They were a handsome bunch and they made Tora completely melt. They weren’t just handsome, but when they were out of the public eye, they were complete dorks. They were silly and made all kinds of dirty jokes, especially Ivar who seemed to have an endless arsenal of them. Hvitserk always brought the clever puns and conversations while Ubbe and Bjorn were constantly showing off in front of Torvi, despite the fact that Torvi and Bjorn had been dating for nearly two years, that never stopped Ubbe with competing with his older brother. While the three of them would wander off and be responsible adults, drinking wine and having intellectual conversations, Hvitserk, Ivar and Tora would sneak off behind the guest house and smoke weed from Tora’s stash like the rebels they were.

It was always a rush for Tora, having the boys over, not just because they would always pass out in the living room and Tora and her sister would have to cover them with blankets and make sure they had water by them when they woke up, but it also meant Tora had to be mindful of what she wore to bed. More often than not, she got up in the middle of the night to refill her drink, crossing through the living room to the kitchen and back. Now this wasn’t a big deal when her friends were over, they were always in tank tops and some form of booty shorts, panties or short shorts, but with the boys, she could never be too careful, especially around Ivar.

Ooh, boy, did Ivar Lothbrok drive Tora completely insane. He was the youngest and the most rebellious. He didn’t really sleep around much, unlike her dear Hvitty and Ubbe, but he definitely knew his way around the bedroom. She once, accidentally mind you, discovered his stash in his room when she went looking for a sweatshirt one winter when their heat was out. We aren’t talking just porn here; Handcuffs, a silk ribbon, and what she believed was a dildo, but she wasn’t about to go investigating that. She mentioned it offhandedly to Hvitserk, who howled in laughter at her discovery and told her he had snuck the dildo in as a joke for the next girl he banged and wanted to impress with a little light bondage play. Something about payback for a big, black strap-on? Either way, Ivar drove her crazy and Torvi’s 27th birthday was no exception.

Ding dong

Knock knock knock knock

“*Torv! Come on! Let us in!*” Ubbe’s voice was the loudest among his brother’s, who were all screaming and yelling. Tora glanced over at the door, then at Torvi, who was in the kitchen, still baking. She chuckled, wiping her face and creating a white streak of flour, before wiping off her hands and going to the door while Tora set out the chips and dips along with the plates and cups and alcohol.

“Alright, alright!” Torvi chuckled. “Fucking animals.”

Torvi unlocked the door and opened it, instantly regretting letting this particular family inside as she was bombarded with hugs and kisses and the rowdiness of each brother elbowing the other out of the way for their hello.

“Yo, can you guys like, maybe not kill my sister before her birthday is over?” Tora asked, pushing them all into the house and off Torvi. The boys laughed and descended on the food table, each making a plate then settling on the couches to wait for the girls. Tora shook her head and giggled. “Jesus, why do you have to be dating this family?”

Torvi giggled as Tora helped her bring the bags the boys brought into the kitchen.

“I’m not.” Torvi said, arranging the flowers Bjorn managed to get through without getting crushed. “I’m dating Bjorn. There’s a difference.”

Tora snickered and shook her head.

“Did you order the pizza yet?” Torvi asked, going to the oven and checking her cookies.

“Yeah. It should be here soon.” Tora said. She glanced out through the pass-through out to the boys and let her eyes fall to Ivar. He had his long hair loose this time, but she was sure it would get tied up in no time. She bit her lip and let out a light giggle, glancing back to make sure her sister didn’t see her. “I’m gonna go wrangle the boys.”

Torvi snorted and laughed out, “Good luck!”

Tora went down the three stairs from the kitchen to the living room and curled up between Ivar and Ubbe on the couch.

“How long are your parents gone this time, Tor?” Hvitserk asked, shoving a chicken wing into his mouth.

“Three weeks. Apparently, they don’t trust me in the house by myself so they asked Torvi to come ‘housesit’.” Tora said, rolling her eyes with a giggle. A collective snicker passed through the boys, knowing full well it was their fault she got caught last time, not cleaning up the house in time before her parents got home while Torvi was at work.

“And they trust Torvi, even though the last party was her idea?” Bjorn snickered. A hand flew down and smacked the back of his head, making him jump, then chuckle. Torvi giggled and sat on the edge of the armchair he was in.

“Excuse me, but if I remember correctly, it was your idea and I switched shifts with someone to have the day off that day instead of the next day, so I could attend your little soiree.” Torvi said. Bjorn chuckled and slid an arm around her waist, kissing her cheek.

“So when can we bust into the pool? It’s fucking baking out there.” Ivar said. The other boys cheered and there was no stopping them at that point.

The boys changed and quickly cannonballed into the pool. Torvi volunteered to stay in and wait for the pizza and told Tora to go have fun. Tora quickly changed into a cute, high waisted, retro looking, floral two-piece and tied up her curls into a tight bun. She grabbed her sunglasses and a towel and went out to the pool, sitting on one of the chairs to rub in her tanning lotion. The boys splashed around, trying to dunk each other and outdo each other off the diving board until Ivar had enough and climbed out, walking over to Tora. Tora glanced at him through her sunglasses and inhaled, with a small smirk.

“Hey.” He said, wiping his face and running his hands through his hair. He flashed her a quick smile as he grabbed his towel, wrapping it around his waist, then took the hair tie from his wrist to tie his hair back.

“Hey.” Tora said, sneaking a quick once over and smirking to herself. She went back to the lotion, rubbing in the last bit on her arms and starting on her shoulders.

“You want me to get your back?” Ivar asked. Tora looked up at him and gave him a sweet, innocent smile as she handed him the bottle.

“Yeah. Thanks.” She said, shifting and turning her back to him. Ivar chuckled and shook his hands, getting rid of any excess water, then wiped them on the towel before taking the bottle and kneeling on the chair next to her. He let the lotion drip down on her back, then capped the bottle, finally rubbing the lotion in. Tora bit her lip and tried to focus on the brother’s yelling instead of Ivar’s hands on her. But she couldn’t help but imagine his hand on other parts of her body, but before her thoughts could drift any further, the bottle suddenly appeared in front of her. Tora jumped and took it, turning to Ivar as he chuckled. Tora smiled and said, “Thanks.”

Ivar nodded. “No problem.” He walked back into the house and made himself a quick drink, bringing it outside and blocking a football from slamming into his face, thrown by Hvitserk. He laughed and took one last sip before stripping off the towel and getting a running start as he tried to jump on top of his brother. Hvitserk shouted as he kicked off from the wall, shooting out like a bullet under the water as Ivar splashed in. Tora sighed and gave a chuckle before settling herself in the sun, waiting for her sister.

After the pizza was delivered, the boys hopped out for a slice or two, then right back in and back to roughhousing. Torvi changed and Tora joined her as they both hopped into the pool. Bjorn stuck by her, hanging off the pool floatie she was drifting on and kept her in the deep end to avoid her being tipped over. Tora struggled to stay on top of the inflatable whale, though it didn’t help that Ubbe and Ivar kept pushing her off and making dirty jokes about how she needed to straddle better. Finally, she gave up and joined the boys as they all just swam around.

“Come on, Hvitty!” Ubbe cried, splashing him as he swam away, laughing.

“Yeah, Hvit, don’t be a chicken. Just play it.” Ivar cackled at his own joke and Tora rolled her eyes.

“Fuck you, guys! Ivar is gonna get Bjorn on his team and I’m stuck with you, Ubbe! You fucking suck!” Hvitserk laughed.

“Hey, how about fuck you guys. I’m with my woman.” Bjorn said from the other side of the pool with a smirk. The boys groaned and tried to goade Bjorn into playing, but his mind was made up. Ivar wrapped an arm around Tora’s shoulders and said, “Come on, Tor. Take his place?”

Tora laughed. “You think I’m gonna get stuck with Ubbe? Get fucked.” She said, splashing him a little to make him let go. Ivar snickered.

“Trust me, I try.” Ivar said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Tora rolled her eyes and Torvi, who heard the comment, snorted. “Shut up, Torv!”

Ivar chuckled and splashed in her direction.

“Come on, Tora.” Hvitserk said. “If you play, I’ll play.”

Suddenly, both Ubbe and Ivar began to chant Tora’s name, trying to convince her. Hvitserk laughed and joined in, soon so did Torvi and Bjorn. Tora sighed and shook her head.

“Alright! Alright.” She said, holding up her hands to get them to stop. “Jesus, you all are annoying.”

Ubbe and Ivar cheered while Hvitserk smirked, swimming over to Ivar.

“And what makes you think you’re getting Ivar?” Tora asked, swimming over to him quicker and hopping onto his back. Ivar laughed and looped his arms around her knees to keep her up. Hvitserk groaned.

“Come. The fuck. On! I’m always stuck with Ubbe!” Hvitserk said. Tora chuckled.

“Too bad.” Tora said. Ivar snickered and said, “If you beat us, we switch.”

“Deal.” Hvitserk said, an evil gleam shining in his eye. Tora flipped him off and Ivar shifted to let her slide off his back as he dunked himself, swimming back to let Tora slip her legs over his shoulders. Tora felt around for the top of his head to hold onto as Ivar held her legs and popped up out of the water. Tora let out a small shriek then giggled, trying to steady herself. Hvitserk got on Ubbe’s shoulders and he called to Bjorn to be judge.

“Ready…” Bjorn said, looking between both pairs. “Go!”

Ivar rushed Ubbe and Tora’s hands gripped Hvitserk’s as the game began. Tora knew he wouldn’t go easy on her, so she decided to play dirty. Tora reached down and gripped his thigh, squeezing it, hard. Hvitserk twitched, trying to pry her hand away and lost his balance on his brother’s shoulders. When she was ready, Tora planted her hands on his chest and pushed, with a little help from Ivar, and both Ubbe and Hvitserk went under.

Torvi cheered from her float for her sister and Ivar celebrated, dunking down to let Tora off his shoulders, then popping back up as he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her up. Tora laughed and wrapped her legs around his waist, then her arms around his neck to keep herself up, then shot a hand into the air in victory. Ubbe and Hvitserk popped up and congratulated them. After a while, they were able to goade Bjorn into playing and Tora happily floated off to join her sister as she straddled the whale, finally staying afloat since the brothers were preoccupied.

“You know,” Torvi started, slipping her sunglasses down her nose as Tora settled herself on the whale, folding her arms over the top and resting her chin. “I hope you’re not trying to get at Ivar.”

Tora’s head shot over to her sister.

“What? Why?” She asked. Torvi giggled.

“Because me and Bjorn have a running bet.” She confessed. Tora scoffed at her, slightly offended.

“What kind of bet?” Tora asked.

“He thinks that you’ll be the one to make the first move, but I think it’s going to be Ivar.” Torvi said. Tora raised an eyebrow.

“And what makes you think he’s even into me?” Tora asked.

“Because you’re gorgeous?” Torvi said, as though she were stating the obvious. “Plus, Ivar has had a thing for you for so long. He just never had the guts to say anything.”

“And what makes you think he will tonight?” Tora asked, giving her sister a look.

“Because Bjorn might have mentioned he’s been thinking about asking you out.” Torvi said. Tora’s cheeks heated at the thought.

“You’re so full of shit, Torv.” Tora said, though she didn’t believe it and she knew her sister didn’t either.

“Oh, please. You have a thing for him too.” Torvi said, pushing her sunglasses back up. “I just don't understand why you two can’t just fuck and get it over with.”

“Torvi!” Tora called, almost scandalized, but shockingly amused her sister would say such a thing. Torvi giggled.

“Oh, please.” Torvi said with a giggle then a sigh, settling back to catch the last dying rays of sunlight. Tora giggled and turned her head away, pressing her nose into the crook of her arm as her eyes swept over to Ivar.

She had to admit he looked exceedingly amazing when he walked in today and he looked even better in the pool. Her eyes roamed over him as he fought Hvitty in another game of Chicken Fight. The way his muscles flexed as he tried to over power his brother, the way he clenched his teeth and growled with a laugh. His triumphant laughter as Hvitserk went down for a 4th time, both he and Ubbe doing one of their absurd brother victor dances. Tora giggled and bit her lip, thinking about how he might react if she just might make a move on him tonight. She was so lost in thought, she didn’t realize Bjorn had abandoned his brothers and was making his way back over to Torvi and made a quick pit stop under the whale. Bjorn kicked off from the bottom of the pool and popped up right next to Tora and shouted, making Tora scream and topple over. Tora popped up and shouted, “Rat bastard!”

Tora tried to chase after him, but he was too fast and had already gotten to Torvi’s float. Torvi lowered her glasses and gave her sister a look. Tora flipped them both off and swam to the edge, climbing out of the pool and going to her towel. The others slowly followed suit, ready to get the drinking games started. Tora sighed, rather irritated at what Bjorn had done and wrapped herself up and took down her hair.

“Hey, you okay?” Ivar came up beside her and pressed a comforting hand to her back, briefly. Tora glanced at him and broke a smile.

“Yeah. I just don’t like being pushed off my floaties.” Tora said, wringing out her hair and tossing it over her shoulder. Ivar chuckled.

“Technically, he didn’t push you off.” Ivar said, wrapping his towel around him. Tora gave him a look.

“Why are you defending him?” Ivar laughed and Tora let out a small giggle. Ivar shook his head as they both walked back into the house, followed by the rest.

Once everyone was dried off and changed, the drinking began. Tora opted out and took a quick shower to fix her hair, not entirely having planned on getting it wet in the pool, before she joined the group. Torvi was on her 6th shot and was already swaying in her seat. Bjorn, thankfully had the presence of mind to bring her up to bed and stay with her, even at Tora’s urgence. Ivar opted out of another round, not entirely thrilled with the prospect of waking up with a headache and hangover. Instead, he sat back with Tora and watched as Ubbe and Hvitserk got absolutely smashed. They ended their drinking around 1 and dragged themselves to the couch where Tora and Ivar covered them with blankets and set glasses of water on the table between them.

“Are you gonna head back?” Ivar asked, making a makeshift bed on the floor for himself. Tora suppressed a yawn and nodded.

“Mm-hmm. It’s been a long day.” Tora said. She watched Ivar make his bed and gave a soft giggle. “You know we have a guest room right?”

Ivar looked up and smiled, nodding. “I know. I’m fine here though.” He said. Tora shrugged.

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said. Ivar smiled and said goodnight and Tora went up to her room. She was incredibly tired and so ready for a deep sleep. So tired, in fact, she stripped down to her lacy bralette and short shorts and crawled into bed and snuggled in.

When Tora woke with a start, she was pissed to see her clock only glowed 2:30. It had only been an hour and a half that she was asleep and now she was wide awake for at least the next 2 hours. She felt around for her drink and pouted when she realized she forgot to refill it before bed. Tora sighed and kicked the blankets off of her and trudged down to the kitchen. She didn’t pay attention to the boys, trying to make as little noise as possible as she slipped into the kitchen. She filled her cup with ice and water, then set it on the center island to raid the fridge for any leftover pizza. There, she was just as pissed to find there was none.

“Pigs.” She pouted, kicking the door shut.

“Well, I hope you don’t mean me.” Tora clamped a hand over her mouth to keep her scream from waking the boys as she jumped and turned, Ivar leaning against the counter, open pizza box beside him, a slice in his hand, and to make matters worse, in only his boxers. Ivar bit his lip to keep from bursting into laughter, only letting a few chuckles out. Tora sighed and slid a hand over her forehead and rested a hand on her chest.

“Jesus, fuck, Ivar.” Tora said, dropping both hands and giving him a look. “I fucking hate you.”

Ivar couldn’t help but snicker before giving a shrug and gesturing to the pizza box beside him. Tora made a face at him and moved closer.

“Is there even any left?” She asked.

“Yeah. Plenty.” Ivar said, taking another bite. Tora grabbed a piece and munched happily. She sighed and shifted, unconsciously moving herself a little bit closer to Ivar. Ivar looked her over and smirked. “Hot in your room?”

Tora stilled, realizing what she was wearing, and her cheeks heated. She crossed an arm over her chest as she continued to eat, making Ivar laugh.

“Tor, it’s okay. I don’t care.” Ivar said, discarding his crusts and leaning a hand on the counter, crossing it in front of her. Tora set down her piece and looked up at him. “Alright, I care...But...In a good way.”

Ivar just couldn’t help himself. With the reaction he had when he hoisted her on his shoulders in the pool, her jumping onto his back the way she did, rubbing her lotion in for her; It did things to him that, surprisingly, he was able to control. And when she curled up next to him as they watched Ubbe and Hvitserk effectively kill their kidneys, he had to admit he wanted her, bad. Tora’s lips perked up into a small smile as Ivar slid a hand over her hip and pulled her closer. She giggled and slid a hand up his arm and looked up at him.

“I, uh, don’t know if you know this, but...I kind of have this thing for you…” He admitted. Tora was surprised he told her, but happy regardless. Tora chuckled and said, “Well, as long as we’re telling stuff...I’ve had a thing for you for fucking ages.”

Ivar raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Really?” He said, his voice on the edge of teasing as he slid his other hand over her other hip. Tora bit her lip and nodded, incapable of restraining herself and letting her eyes slowly drift down to his lips, still twisted in a smirk, then back up to the bright pools of blue that stared down at her.

They stood there for a while, starting to sway a little as their hands traveled over one another’s skin, then Ivar’s smirk turned wicked as he ducked his head down to seal his lips over hers. Tora sighed into the kiss and gripped his arms as she kissed him back, deepening it. Ivar wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him and slid his other hand up her back to hold the back of her neck as the kissing continued. Tora let out a soft whimper before she pulled away to break the kiss and trail a thumb across his lower lip.

“Mmm-we, we shouldn’t...Uhm, not, not here...I-” Tora sighed and kissed him again, Ivar letting out an amused chuckle into it. Ivar broke the kiss this time and let his lips travel down her neck and back up.

“I do believe...There was mention of a guest room before?” Ivar asked with a wicked and coy tone, one that slipped over Tora like pure silk. Tora nodded and let his lips over hers one last time, deep and slow. The kiss broke and Tora giggled, sliding her hand down to take his and lead him, silently, through the living room and down to the back bedroom, furthest away from anyone. With Bjorn and Torvi on the third floor and at least 2-3 rooms between them and Ubbe and Hvitserk, with a shut door, Tora’s mind went wild, as did Ivar’s. The second Tora shut the door, his hands were at her waist, holding her close, and his lips went up and down, across and back. Tora tilted her head back and sighed, reaching a hand back to slide over his hair. She gave a small chuckle and tugged at the man bun.

“Take it down?” She whispered. Ivar’s lips curled into a smirk on her skin as he reached back with one hand and tugged the hair tie out, his hair tumbling down to create a private room for them. Tora giggled and Ivar chuckled as she turned, threading her hands through his hair and pressing her forehead against his. Ivar’s hands found their way to her bum and cupped it before lifting her up, Tora giving a small hop to help, and carried her to the bed. They kept their faces close, teasing each other as little giggles and chuckles slipped between them, then Ivar crawled onto the bed, laying her down in the center of the pillows, sitting back to admire her form. The moonlight shone through the blinds illuminating them. Tora bit her lip and watched Ivar as he raked his eyes over her, hungrily.

“You’re sure about this?” He asked, sliding a hand over her cheek. Tora gave him a sweet smile and nodded.

“Yeah.” She said. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.”

Ivar snickered and gave one swift tug at her panties as he said, “Believe me...I do.”

Tora’s eyes darkened as the cool night air bathed her much warmer and wet spots. She shivered and let a pleasurable sigh slip between her lips. Ivar smirked and lowered himself down to her, pushing his hair to one side and kissing her again. Tora’s eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him back and shoved her hands into his hair. She didn’t understand it, but his hair did things to her. It was touchably soft and smooth and every time it brushed against her skin, she shivered. But she soon became numb to it as Ivar slowly eased his hand down over her breasts and across her stomach, down to rub against her clit. She broke the kiss and arched her back with a hiss, making him smirk.

“Oh, we like that do we?” Ivar teased. Tora giggled and looked over at him. He ducked his head down and kissed his way along her chest as his free hand reached up to find her bra clasp, then tossed his head up when there was none to be found. Tora giggled and tugged the bralette off, tossing it across the room. Ivar chuckled and kissed her once more as she slid her hands through his hair. He, then, broke away and went back down her chest, stopping at each breast and showing them equal attention. Tora tilted her head back and sighed, curling her fingers around his hair as he worked. He licked and sucked at her nipples, biting down gently on each one making her twitch and give a little squeak each time. Both of them chuckled before Ivar continued on his journey. He nipped at her stomach as he went, his fingers still working her all the while. Just as he got to her sex, he eased a finger in slowly, making her hiss out a breath and a frustrated whimper. Tora looked down and moaned, softly at the sight of him between her legs.

“Ivar.” She moaned softly. Ivar looked up at her, his bright eyes dark with lust. A wicked smirk crossed his face before he buried himself in her, making her gasp and moan in pleasure. Ivar’s tongue worked her over as his skillful fingers played inside her. Ivar had her pinned to the mattress and relished in the way she squirmed and whimpered beneath him. The soft little noises she made caused him to give a deep groan against her that vibrated throughout her body. She felt her walls tense and her breath hitched as Ivar felt it as well and worked her faster and faster. Her climax slammed into her and Ivar slowly rode her through it, taking in her pleasure as she did. Once it ebbed away, her body still throbbing from it and wanting more, Ivar slowly licked, kissed and nipped his way back up to her mouth. Tora let out a sigh and wrapped an arm around his neck, licking into his mouth as he kissed her, tasting herself mixed with him. Now it was her turn, or rather his, but they would both get what they wanted as Tora tugged at his boxers, pushing them down and setting him fully free. As Tora reached down to slip her fingers over his member and feel the weight of it in her palm, Ivar pulled away. Tora’s eyes snapped open and she let out an involuntary whimper, wishing he hadn’t.

“Uh…” Ivar gave a soft chuckle. “Um, condoms? I...I don’t want to risk anything...Gods knows your sister would kill me.”

Tora chuckled and nodded. She shimmied over to the edge of the bed and rifled through the drawers in the nightstand until she pulled out the last condom from the box and rolled back over, slipping back under Ivar and handing it to him. Ivar took it and ripped it open. He popped the condom out and kissed her, deep and slow, as he rolled the condom on and his hands flew up to wrap one around her waist and the other to cup a breast.

Ivar held her, not moving for a while, just enjoying her nakedness against his, then he slipped the hand on her breast down between them and gently pushed her knees apart, inserting himself between them. Tora glanced down as he adjusted himself, then looked up at him as he guided himself to her and slowly slid inside. Tora let out a soft gasp and her eyes fluttered shut as she began to breathe heavily at the feel of him inside her. Ivar groaned as he slid in and buried his face in her neck, tightening his arm around her waist.

“Oh, fuck. Tora…” Ivar whispered against her skin. Tora giggled and bit her lip, curling her arm around his head, her fingers in his hair. Ivar shifted and hovered over her, looking down at her. “You alright?”

Tora nodded and gripped his shoulders as he started to move. Slow at first, then he steadily picked up speed, Tora finding a tune to match his rhythm, moving her hips in time with him. Both of their moans and groans filled the barely empty space between them before his lips descended on hers again. Tora clung to him, never wanting to let go as his thrusts got quicker and went deeper. Tora arched her back and her nails dug into his shoulders as she moaned out his name. That sweet sound made Ivar growl and sink his teeth into the tender spot where her shoulder and neck met. Tora’s teeth sunk into her lower lip at the power move and she whimpered, giving his hair a slight tug.

“Oh, my god…” Tora whispered, half in shock this was happening, half slipping into a world of pure pleasure. Ivar chuckled and released her shoulder, licking over the bite mark and kissing up her neck. His hand slid down to cup her bum and press her even more against him. Tora moaned and dragged her nails down his back as she tossed her head to the side and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Holy fuck. Ivar…”

“I’m here, babe. It’s all me.” He growled into her neck. “Oh, fuck...Tora.”

“Yes. Yes.” Tora whimpered. “Say-Say it again. Please…”

Her name tumbling from his lips, her begging for him, it drove them both crazy. Ivar moaned out her name as his thrusts moved even faster, Ivar feeling his release climb through him from the depths of his balls. He dug his fingers into the cheek in his hand that made Tora squeak. Her orgasm burst over her as Ivar’s released over him. A jumble of moans and groans, names and swearing, all of it surrounded them as they rode each other through the waves and back to shore. Tora’s body went limp as Ivar’s hips slowed to a stop. He dropped his head to the crook of her neck and inhaled, holding her close, wrapping both arms around her now. Tora giggled and sunk her hands into his hair, beginning to play with it. Ivar shivered as her nails grazed over his scalp, one last moan escaping from between his lips.

“Jesus. Fucking. Lord.” Ivar said, slowly. Tora laughed and looked down at him as he raised his head, his eyes heavy-lidded from it all. “Now, see, if I had known it was going to be that good, I would have done this years ago.”

Before Tora could respond, his lips her on hers again. Her giggle slipped into the kiss as she cupped his face, kissing him back. Ivar rolled off her and onto his side, tucking her close. Tora sighed and snuggled into him.

“I mean, I knew it would be good, but not that fucking good.” She said, softly, twisting his hair around her fingers. Ivar smirked and looked down at her.

“You think your sister will kill me if she finds out?” He asked. Tora slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. She giggled and said, “Ivar, she told me her and Bjorn have a bet going. I’m sure she’ll be perfectly fine with it.”

Ivar raised an eyebrow. “A bet? A fucking bet?” He asked, with a light laugh. Tora nodded.

“Yup, she said that Bjorn bet I would make the first move, Torvi bet it would be you.” Tora said. Ivar shook his head and chuckled.

“Well, if you hadn’t mentioned the guest room, I don’t think this might have happened, so I’m gonna go with you.” Ivar said, with a smirk. Tora scoffed.

“Please. You’re the one who kissed me first.” Tora said.

“Mm-hmm, but you’re the tease who came out in a bra and panties, so, come on, Tora.” Ivar said. Tora shook her head and reached a hand up to cup his cheek to kiss him softly.

“Nope. And unless you want to give my sister all the details, they’ll never know.” She said. Ivar chuckled.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep this one to myself for a while.” Ivar said.

“And when they wake up and find us in bed together?” Tora asked. Ivar smirked.

“And that was also part of my reasoning to use the guest bedroom.” Ivar said. He slid a hand over her bare bum and gave it a small squeeze. Tora squeaked and hit his chest with a giggle. Ivar laughed and continued, “Let’s go up to your room. They’ll never know what happened if we’re clothed and just sleeping. They’ll probably think we just made out.”

“Well, you know I’m going to tell Torvi what happened.” Tora said as Ivar stood, quickly getting rid of the condom and tugging on his boxer shorts.

“Of course you are. She’s your sister.” Ivar said, pulling her up against him. Tora giggled and rested her hands on his chest as he slid his hands over her body one more time.

“Well, let’s hurry up before someone wakes up and sees us before we get up there.” Tora said. Ivar chuckled and grabbed her shorts as she went to look for her bralette. She tugged it on, slipped into her shorts, then they both snuck up to her room and onto her bed. Ivar pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her, staring down at her. Tora giggled and looked up at him, resting one hand on his chest, the other touching his cheek. Ivar smiled and kissed her again before Tora shifted and turned her back to him and settled herself. Ivar tugged her closer, perfectly spooning his groin to her ass and slipped an arm around her stomach, nuzzling her hair. Tora smiled and laced their fingers together. They didn’t need to say anything more, no goodnights, no overly fluffy sentiments; They settled against each other and slowly drifted off together until the sun broke through her curtains the next morning.

@tephi101 @shieldmaiden25 @ivarslittlebadgirl @titty-teetee @hail-kattegat @captstefanbrandt @badwolf-in-the-impala

Hope you guys like it! let me know if you want to be tagged in future fics/chapters! <3 Sequel Series here

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bouncehousedemons · 2 years ago

Text

Salt of the Earth and Sea

Rating: E Pairing: Ubbe x OFC, Hvitserk x OFC Warnings: Smut, religion, historical inaccuracies, gore, references to addiction, fluff, angst.

Summary: Life in the Golden Land with Ubbe and Hvitserk

Part one (written for @vikingstrash)

Part two (written for @ritual-unions)

Part Three (written for @underragingwaves)

Part four (written for @vikingsevents)

Part five (written for @ritual-unions)

Part five (written for @vikingsevents)

Part six (written for @vikingsevents)

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serasvictoria · 3 years ago

Note

🔥 + study

You know I had to. 😏

Just had to use Hvitserk for this one. Damn near killed me again.

By the way, I say that it's Hvitserk with an OFC in the tags, but she's an unnamed OFC. It might as well be a reader insert were it not for the fact that I describe a certain part of her anatomy. Blame Hvitserk for that.

“You ace this test and I will suck your dick.”

Hvitserk crumpled the piece of paper in his hand as he thought of the promise that she had made to him. Those were the terms that she had set and he was looking to collect his prize.

At first he hated the idea of getting a private tutor, but his mother had insisted on it and told him that his grades were simply unacceptable. He was determined to make this tutor’s life a living hell. He’d get them to quit as soon as possible if it was the last thing that he’d do.

He was 19 years old for god’s sake! How could he possibly be expected to do anything other than party all night long? That was what college was for, right? The reason why so many people even went in the first place. To get wasted and to sleep with as many people as you could.

It didn’t matter that Ubbe had done just that as well, but still came in top of his class. They were different people and he was convinced that no one was expecting him to outdo Ubbe.

Hvitserk’s grades had never been high at high school either, but he passed every single year so that should have been enough. His grades were “satisfactory” as his father had once told him and that was about as much praise as he could expect.

It wasn’t until he actually saw his tutor that all the thoughts of making their life a living hell left him completely. The tutor that he had been expecting was some kind of brainiac that built model trains on the weekend for kicks, but that was not what he got at all.

She was fucking perfect.

He’d seen her on campus a few times, but hadn’t been paying close enough attention since she was one year his senior. Though seeing her up close now, he wondered why he hadn’t noticed her before.

His eyes had been glued to her chest from the moment that she reached out to shake his hand. The buttons on her shirt were practically begging to be popped open. The fabric was working hard to even keep her breasts contained. It looked like they might end up spilling out if she ever took a deep enough breath.

It didn’t exactly make him focus on studying, his mind very much preoccupied with tearing her shirt open so he could suck on those perfect tits, but at least it gave him incentive to show up the following week.

And the one after that and so on.

Suddenly the idea of having a tutor wasn’t that dumb to him anymore. Not when his tutor looked like that.

The main problem was that his grades weren’t improving however. If anything, they were gradually dropping. The only bright side to that was that his mother had decided that Hvitserk needed to see his tutor five days a week instead of just once.

“I don’t understand how you could have gotten worse,” she groaned in exasperation. “How is that even possible?”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, more in the direction of her chest than that it was aimed at her face. “I’m trying so hard, but I can’t seem to get anything that you explained to stay up here.” He tapped his temple. “Maybe if I could sit next to you for once…”

“We talked about this before,” she replied. “You just kept trying to sneak peeks into my shirt rather than paying attention to what was on the page.”

“Can you blame me?” He gestured at her chest. “They’re begging for some air. I can hear them crying out to be freed every time that we meet up.”

Shaking her head, she tapped her ruler down on the page and he looked down at it for all but five seconds before he started sneaking glances in her direction. Her hands slammed down on the table so hard that he snapped out of it, trying really hard to focus on the words for once in his life.

“Okay,” she exhaled a deep breath and stood up. His eyes went up her body as she leaned over the table. “Pop quiz tomorrow.”

“What? That’s not-“

“Shut up.” She pressed the ruler against his chin and tilted his head back forcefully. “Ten questions. Ten buttons.”

“Ten buttons?”

“Buttons.” She enunciated the word so clearly that he was waiting for her to spell it out to him. Instead her free hand moved up to the top of her shirt and she skimmed a finger down over the buttons, counting them as she went. “You answer a question correctly, I open a button. Deal?”

Hvitserk gulped as she started moving her hand back up her shirt, fingers shifting to the side and following the curve of one of her breasts.

“D-deal.”

That night he had studied harder than he ever had in his life. All he had to do was read five fucking chapters. Piece of cake. He could do this. He would prove to her that he would be able to direct his attention to his studies if he was properly motivated.

In the end, he’d gotten eight out of ten questions right, but the only reason that he had not been able to answer two questions was because they had come from one of the chapters that he hadn’t read. Her idea of a joke.

Hvitserk had watched her with bated breath as she stood in the middle of his bedroom and opened eight buttons of her shirt. He had jokingly offered to do it for her, but she had sternly told him that she wasn’t going to allow him to do that. The bra that she had on underneath was slightly disappointing, it was plain and beige with a small bow in the middle, but when she sat back down at the table he couldn’t care less.

The book in front of him had never been less interesting to him and his eyes kept drifting back to her chest, following the movement every time that she breathed in. It only took him five minutes to reach out, his hand moving in slow motion, his fingertips so close that he could almost feel the warmth that radiated from her…

Whack.

“What the fuck!” He pulled his hand away and started rubbing the back of it. “Why the hell did you do that!”

“I didn’t tell you that you could touch me.” She hit him again with the ruler that she was still holding, his bicep this time. “So don’t.”

“So I’m expected to just sit here and look at you? No touching?”

“Nope. That’s not what we agreed on.”

“We didn’t agree on anything,” he whined, twisting his voice in a manner that usually helped him when he wanted to get his way. “You suggested this.”

“I did, but you didn’t stipulate any additional terms.” The ruler came down on his book with a hard slap. “Did you think that I’d just lay down on your bed so you could have your way with me?”

“Yes!”

“No.” She used her book to cover her chest so as not to distract him any further. “But feel free to come up with something yourself. You never know, I might just agree to it.”

“Okay. If I improve my grade, I get to fuck you.”

“No way. Start small and then expand on it.”

“Fuck.” He did his best to sound annoyed, but in truth, he was loving every second of this. “You drive a hard bargain.”

They negotiated back and forth for a while and eventually agreed that if he managed to get a good grade on his next test, that she would not only undo all the buttons of her shirt, but that he’d actually get to touch her breasts as well.

Amazingly enough, that had been the thing that he needed to get him to actually put some time into studying and he kept improving over time. The rewards got bigger after a while and it went from him being allowed to touch her to him being granted permission to have his hand underneath her skirt during study sessions. One of the last rewards had been something that had been more for her than for himself. He had asked if he’d be allowed to finger her and to his amazement, she had actually agreed to it.

But this was the reward that he had been steadily building up to all along. The sheer thought of her lips wrapped around his cock had been occupying his dreams for a while and he really wanted that particular fantasy to become a reality.

When she opened the door of her dorm room, his eyes almost rolled out of their sockets. He’d almost forgotten about the extra request that he had tacked on this particular time.

“Are you going to stand in the hallway all day?”

“No.” She turned around and walked to her desk as soon as he closed the door behind him. When she sat down, she spread her legs wide open for him, flashing him the pink underwear that she had on underneath. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Outfit like you imagined?”

“Even better.” It had been one hell of an idea to ask her if she could dress up like Britney Spears in that Hit Me Baby One More Time video. “Britney’s got nothing on you.”

“Thank you.” The smile that appeared on her face had a hint of shyness to it, but then she pulled her shirt open just a little bit more, giving him an even better view of the lace pink bra underneath. “Show me your results.” He swallowed heavily and approached her slowly. She extended her hand out to him and he gave her the piece of paper. When she had smoothed it out, she looked at the page and then a frown appeared. “Thought I told you to ace the test.”

“I know and I’m sorry, but there were questions on that test that I didn’t study for and-”

“No excuses,” she interjected. “You should have been prepared for anything.”

“I still passed.” Maybe if he tried to whine, he might be able to persuade her. Not that it had ever worked on her before, but you never knew. “I used to get nothing but average grades, but they’ve really improved, haven’t they?”

“Are you trying to persuade me into still giving you a reward?”

“Y-yes.” Hvitserk looked down at the floor. He knew what he had to do for him to get some form of compensation for his hard work. They had set these terms a while back after he had failed once before. He had whined until he was almost blue in the face that time, but nothing had worked. “I’ll try harder next time.”

“Oh lord, don’t give me those sad puppy dog eyes,” she said with a groan. “Just this once…”

“You’ll still do it?”

“No.” His face fell again almost immediately which made her sigh. “Will you let me finish first? Your grade is still good and this isn’t exactly your best subject. So maybe I set the goal too high this time instead of the other way around?”

“Maybe.” He tried to keep the sad look in his eyes up even if he was almost dying of excitement. It sounded like there was still a shot of him getting some kind of reward out of this. “So… what does this mean?”

“Well, I’d say that the blowjob is off the table completely since you didn’t get the grade that I wanted you to, but maybe something a little bit smaller?” Her white shirt had been tied together at the bottom and she undid the fastening. She pulled her shirt down her arms, threw it at him and then scooped her breasts out of her bra. He had to work very hard to stop himself from drooling. “Since you’re so obsessed with these,” she pointed at her breasts and watched the movement of his hand as he grabbed the front of his trousers which he pulled on to relieve a bit of the pressure. “How about I let you put your cock between them?”

Hvitserk almost choked on the spot and he started coughing uncontrollably. “Y-you’d let me fuck your tits?”

“Unless you don’t want to.”

“No!” The word came out as a shout. He cleared his throat and tried to recollect himself, but he was failing miserably. “I mean… I mean… Fuck! How could I turn that down!”

“So come over here.”

How his legs were even working right now was a complete mystery, but he managed to walk in her direction and come to a standstill in front of her. He watched her grab a tube of hand cream from her desk which she then proceeded to spread over her breasts to serve as a form of lubrication.

Reaching out, she hooked her fingers into the top of his jeans and pulled him closer until he was standing between her legs. One of her hands settled on the front of his trousers and she started rubbing over his bulge slowly. Hvitserk sucked in air through his teeth when she touched him, feeling her hand exactly where he wanted it was nothing short of amazing.

“Oh honey,” she purred at him. “Look at that. You really need me, don’t you?” He only barely managed to nod in answer to her question. “Let me help you out then. I’ll give you what you need.”

#prompts #smut prompts #vikings #vikings au #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x ofc #mar writes #vikingstrash

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