#i have to keep seeing that pic in the lyanna tag

[mneiai]

I can't get over what a creeper Rhaegar looks like in that new official calendar cover. Like surprised he's not jacking off watching from the shadows as that 14 year old Lyanna is playing.

[lisinfleur]

Dirty Linen

The request:

Author’s Notes | I just couldn’t resist the joke! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Modern AU, requested by anon for 5CW7 Words | 1453 ⁑ Warnings: Cursing a lot.

"Stupid fucking automatic gods damn shit!"

You could bet the clang you listened after all those beautiful sweet words was the sound of something metallic hitting one of the laundry machines, full strength. Hard to believe, but someone was having a day worse than yours...

"Give back my clothes, you cursed piece of trash!" you heard some more sweet words and looked at the second corridor beside yours where a blue-eyed man was fighting with his machine, furious with the thing that apparently ate his clothes.

"Not wanting to remember you that song that will fucking glue in your mind for the rest of the day, but... It is easier if you 'toss a coin to your witcher', ya know?" you said, pointing the hole where he was supposed to put the coins so the machine would wash and open to give back his clean clothes; your index poking beside the hole causing his frowned face to twist looking at you with an ironic smile.

"Don't you think I've tried this tactic before trying to dismember this shit into tiny little pieces?" he answered, debauched.

And you giggled, causing his furious eyes to turn towards you.

"Look, I don't know who the fuck is you but if you came here to mock me, you can go back through the way you came!"

"Calm down," you said, raising your hands and smiling at him. "I just want to help. Sorry. It's just that's funny to see such a handsome man with a mouth so dirty."

Somehow, you got his weak spot: the "handsome" word in your sentence got him unprepared and you had the moment you wanted to calm things down for him.

"I'm Y/N," you said, offering your hand and noticing he took his out of a crutch to shake yours.

"I'm Ivar," he answered, straightening the crutches you were sure were the metallic thing he used to hit the machine before. "And this shit ate my clothes for the third cycle of washing!"

"Oh, I can see... You got the temperamental one," you said, smiling at him and touching the machine he chose, "Lemme see..."

Three or four buttons and two little punches and you got the thing on centrifugation once again - the last cycle before it would deliver his clothes dry.

"Done!" you smiled "Now you only have to wait until it ends and then I'll open it for you. This one is kinda messy and I bet the owner reprogramed it to suck some more money from our pockets. Always choose the ones from the left. They are the newest ones and will give you fewer troubles," you winked at him, listening to the sound of your machine stopping.

"I think I have time for a coffee," Ivar threw, causing you to smile.

"I have time for five if you want... There is a lot of this shit for me today," you said, kinda accepting his implicit invitation while filling the second basket of clothes of the five you had to wash.

The number of things you were washing - and of course, the presence of some obvious masculine outfits among the clothes you were picking up - tickled Ivar's curiosity and he didn't hold back his tongue.

"Family's laundry day or did you lost a bet?" he tried to be playful.

And you smiled at him. You wish it was.

"Cheating bastard," you said raising one of your ex-boyfriend's shorts. "And his naked bitch," you raised his lover's bra, showing it to Ivar before tossing everything into the washing machine for the third basket of your day.

Ivar's face frowned into a funny expression and you couldn't avoid thinking his expressivity was very captivating.

"I don't understand..." he said and you smiled.

"Bring me that coffee you promised and I'll have plenty of time to explain," you joked, touching the other two baskets you still had to wash.

Ivar nodded, smiling, and ordered two coffees for you and him at the Starbucks on the other side of the street, sitting by your side and placing his crutches beside him before sipping from his coffee, seeming to be comfortably waiting for you to start.

"Well, I made a trip to work," you started from what you thought was the beginning, "I'm a photographer and I received an amazing proposal to make some pics for a famous series. Promo material, full package. It paid me a small fortune! But the package wasn't including any companion so I would have to go alone and spend a month working before I would be able to come back."

"Uh," Ivar mumbled, fully interested.

Something you had to admit you weren't that used to seeing: your ex-boyfriend had that same expression, but his tone was bored and he was never really paying that much of attention in whatever you were saying.

If he was, maybe he had listened to you when you called him warning you would be home earlier than the expected...

"The fact is that I'm good at what I do. And my work was done a week earlier than what we planned, which gave me a small bonus and free pass to come home sooner than what we were expecting."

Ivar's expression changed as if he already knew what was to come.

"Lemme guess: the bastard thought your apartment could become a whorehouse while you were away?" he asked, and you giggled.

It was funny to hear a man that wasn't somehow supporting the sick bastard you called a boyfriend.

"Bullseye, handsome,” you said, smiling at him. "The bastard thought my bed was a good place for dogs to mate and when I came home, he was still fucking the bitch of the time. Over my sheets! I wanna burn that mattress so bad!" you sighed.

It was a good mattress. But how many chicks that bastard had seeded over it when you weren't there to stop him?

"Then burn it, girl," Ivar said, sipping from his coffee. "But kill my curiosity: why are you here washing their clothes after this?"

"Oh, I decided they were mine like every other thing inside that apartment I bought with my money. And since he used it at his own pleasure, I thought his belongings would be a good payment for the rent of the motel room..."

Ivar almost choked with his coffee, laughing through his nose trying not to burst and spit everything.

"You think this is funny? You should have seen his face, covering his dick with both of his hands with that white ass exposed in the middle of the street and nothing but the shoes he didn't have taken off to fuck the bitch," you remembered. "Oh, that was a hell of a scene!"

"Wait, you've thrown both of them naked outside??" Ivar asked and this time he burst in laughs when you nodded, confirming the scene his imagination was trying to portrait. "Fuck! That was something I would like to have seen. Gods, woman, you're amazing!"

"Yeah, but now this amazing woman has a whole wardrobe to wash and donate and a mattress to sell. I guess I'll be sleeping on my couch until I find a way to get rid of all those DNA samples..." you mourned.

And with the sound of his machine ending the cycle, Ivar finished his coffee, getting up with his crutches to walk towards the machine.

A smile in his face.

"I have a big backyard... I think it would be nice to make a fire pit tonight. Wanna come?" he joked.

And you smiled.

"Trying to find a way to see me again and keep me around to open your machines, handsome?" you entered his joke, approaching to help him with the door of the washing machine that opened easily to your touch.

"Perhaps," Ivar answered, with a smile locked in the corner of his mouth you thought was the most charming thing you ever saw in a man's face.

"I think you earned your machine operator... But only if you can warrant me there will be a good coffee for us to share," you joked, negotiating.

And Ivar smiled looking at you.

You were really his kind of girl... And that smile of his was the kind of smile to make you fall like a leaf in Autumn.

"I bring the coffee; you bring the mattress. Tonight, at eight," he settled with a fun tone.

"It sounds like a first date for me," you smiled, feeling when he touched the tip of your nose before picking up his basket with his clothes.

"Perhaps..." he said again, leaving you with the sensation something very good was about to happen in your life.

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