#one on hand: you married a monster and everyday you grow closer to her bloody lineage. everyday you lie to your only friends and companions

[imxtremelybard]

The line between comedy and tragedy is a thin one, and my boy is ontop of it doing the box-step

[jadelynlace]

ink drinker / modern vikings au, chapter ten

read the last chapter here / catch up here

author’s note: smut. sweetness, like a lot. angst.   quote is from this post, and I encourage everyone to look at that blog.

☾

“Mouth,” She squeaked again, watching her words interrupt Ivar’s conscious, slowing his hips as he looked back down at her.

“No,”

“Please?” She begged, hoping the tone would send him closer to having mercy on her request, but all it did was make Ivar snap his hips into her more forcefully. As his eyes screwed shut, she watched the plains of his muscles contract where he was hovering over her, his mouth slipping to separate for the barest of a whisper and she knew he was almost there. “Why?” She asked, her tone faltering as a moan tore through her words.

“Needs to—needs to go inside,” Ivar grunted, the erratic splay of his hips pushing her slightly up the bed, the thought only pulling the grip on his entire cock to tighten as Ivar let out another noise of pleasure. With her grabbing his wrists where they had planted on each side of her as Ivar forcefully fucked up into her, the last couple of thrusts pushing him over to his own demise. His back tensed up considerably, snapping as his pelvis stuttered as he came, a growl dripping from his mouth before he collapsed over her. He felt her hands slip across his scalp, nails digging slightly as she dragged them through the locks, his face pressed against the skin between her breasts as his lower back still shook. Finally Ivar pulled himself back up, his cock flagging as he rolled off of her, flopping to the collection of pillows parallel to them.

“I don’t know how you have anything left,” Jadelyn teased, turning onto her side to move closer to him, the toss of blanket covering them both when she curled against his chest. Ivar only chuckled in response, his eyes closed while his arm looped to pull her closer. “It’ll happen, Ivar,” She whispered after a brief peck against his chin.

“It’ll happen, baby,” Ivar repeated, turning his head slightly against the pillow, the scent of her shampoo coming to his nose as he felt sleep tug at him.

“Besides, you’re a never ending source of it anyways,” She giggled.

“Is that a complaint I hear, Miss? Are you complaining?” His voice came, husky against her ears as he turned his head further into the pillow.

“No, if you want me to complain about something, I have a long list of things that bother me on a day to day basis. For starters—”

“Good night, Jade,” Ivar laughed.

*

Deep boxes, some taped shut still and some wide open scattered through the threshold. She was surprised Ivar gave her the task so willingly: unloading their belonging into the shared space—the shared home; where they could paint the walls as dark as they wanted and christen each of the countertops that lived in the kitchen, and all of the bathrooms. How he could have her in the pool out back, draw her sunbathing, paint artwork across the spare room that he was so hopeful would one day be a nursery. The address that now showed them both as homeowners, under a roof of architecture that was the farthest away from looking like the home he grew up in. A home he could make his—theirs—with people they loved and who loved them for what they were; and place raise their own children to follow their passions.

Her legs were bent like black branches, fingers pulling against the small plastic pages with the slightest inclination of curiosity written on her features.

“What do you have?” Ivar asked.

“Definitely not your baby photos,” Jadelyn echoed back, another quick turn of the pages in her lap. “How the fuck were you a blonde baby?”

“Give me those,” Ivar snapped, reaching forwards to grab the booklet, a low rumble to his words as he needed nothing to remind him of his past years.

“You were so cute Ivar,” Jadelyn whined, meekly trying to reach for the bundle once more.

“I don’t know what the hell happened,” He teased back, his figure turning away from her as he took a quick glance to the photos: him and Hvitserk on the front lawn, Ivar the only one refusing to sit directly on the grass blades, the claim of how sharp they were still tickled his ears as he gazed.

“I hope our kids look like you,” Ivar heard her say.

“Do you think they’ll be like me…with all of the….” His words trailed off, not truthfully even knowing how to address his disorder appropriately, the mental sparks that took such a hook into his everyday life. “Because if they are, we’re screwed Jadelyn—I was a horrible kid because of it,” Ivar said softly.

“We’re not screwed,” Jadelyn said with a heavy sigh. “You got through it,” She reminded him, standing from the couch to meet his space. “And if anything, you know exactly what to do,” She spoke, eyes cast up at his face as he studied the book. “Can you stop worrying for like two minutes about our children, Ivar? Because, for one, I’m not even pregnant,”

“Worry is the one thing I’m good at,” Ivar said back coldly. Jadelyn sent her eyes sky high, rolling them and taking in the entire living room as they looped. The bloody words of Ivar own self hatred only sunk the dagger further into her heart, drawing the banter to be so heavy against her conscious as she knew Ivar wasn’t doing it to spite her; he talked this way about himself because it had kept him safe thus far. No one can be as mean to Ivar as he is to himself, and in turn, no one’s words hurt like his do—and no ones help makes any difference.

“Ivar,” Jadelyn suddenly said, snapping the booklet from his hand. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, I don’t want to hear it,” She demanded, eyebrows creasing between anger and sorrow. “Because I know it’s not true, and somewhere you know it’s not true either,” Her arms crossed, the dark sweater causing them to pull like black branches too, her stance consistent with the attractive look she had given to anyone she was willing to battle. The dazzling mismatch of the freckles across her face as she scowled towards him, his chest heaving with sorrow as he could detect where she laid the disappointment in her irises as they watched his flicker.

“Sorry,” Ivar said suddenly, moving his face to look away.

“Ivar,” She said again, her nails pushing his face to catch hers again.

“I’m not used to it, Jadelyn—I’m not used to someone telling me there’s anything good about me,” He whispered.

“Then I’m going to keep telling you until you believe me,” She finally said, her words floating through the room to be sucked up by the moonlight.

*

Ivar still felt guilty, the transmission of the talk pushed him into a corner of shedding his skin so he was far more bare before Jadelyn than he ever had been before. There was never a time another voice uttered to him that the horrors he spoke of himself were wrong, usually he could always find a way to justify his thoughts; the faults he had and carried that would make him worthless as a human, as a lover. Who he was had changed; the memory of the young blonde boy growing less with every morning he would wake to see Jadelyn next to him. Ivar was not religious, but the closest he ever felt to such a sensation was when he would lie with Jadelyn in their bed.

It wouldn’t be a morning out of the sorts as Ivar woke to find himself seemingly tangled around her, touching her everywhere his body could, everywhere his heart couldn’t. Relaxed like silk in his grasp, losing himself in the future of opportunities they would share together as long as she was his. As the sound of rain filtered in again, Ivar opened his eyes to feel her shifting, moving his head as she wiggled from his hold on her, stretching forwards with a yawn. He felt her lips against his chin, the whispered “good morning handsome,” before she was slipping from the bed for the bathroom. He had spent countless hours trying to decipher how he would finally ask her, cracking this riddle that had no answer no matter the dosage of energy he put forth. Whether he got down on one knee or not, bought her every star in the sky, took the monsters from her brain forever, it didn’t matter.

Sitting up, he caught sight of her padding by, the wood floor snug against her feet while she pulled the shirt—his shirt—back around her frame. He heard the puttering in the kitchen, sorting through mismatched packed belongings for cutlery, mugs, utilities to start their mornings off as they always had in each others company. He heard the coffee pot buzz to life as he climbed from the bed, flopping the duvet back to be made later as he stood in the door frame simply stuck watching her. Interrupting her, Ivar caged his body against hers as she laughed, a low hum from his chest as if he hadn’t spend the last evening holding her the same way, his forehead pressed on her hair as she went boneless against him.

“Do you have anything going on today?” Jadelyn asked softly.

“I do,” Ivar hummed. “It’s important,”

“What is it?”

“...‘M going to ask you to marry me,” Ivar said. He felt her stall slightly beneath the black fabric of his shirt, her blood thicken like their new wooden dining table as the words sang around her head and stuck into her brain.

“Ivar….” She trailed off, words no where on the forefront of her mind as the soul idea removed all traces of vocabulary.

“I have a ring—and I have a tattoo design if you’d rather have that baby,” He said against her hair, a slow sway as he still held her. “Whatever one you want,”

“Can I have both?” She peeped. Ivar’s lips spread into a smile as she spoke, her voice quieting as she felt the tears well in her eyes before he finally pulled away from her, turning her to face him. “Are you serious? You want to marry me?”

“You have no fucking idea how much I want to, Jadelyn,” Ivar said to her.

“Yes,” She finally answered, a quick movement of her arms crawling to circle his neck, the tips of her nails dancing along the ends of his hair the graced his shoulders. Ivar’s lips spread across his face into the boyish smile he had in the old photos, cerulean eyes dazzling like sunlit ocean waves, leaning down to press his smile tenderly against hers. Jadelyn slipped her hands back around to cup against his jaw, the memory of the split lip Hvitserk gave him out of the idea he was sleeping with his best friend, simply to toss her away when he was done. Over the rejected ideas of his father’s appreciation with the tattoos that slithered to the base of his neck, racking her nails along the chiseled chest the held his heart that beat solidly for her. Dizziness on her mouth as her tongue moved to battle his, the cold marble countertop meeting her spine as he pressed his body impossibly close, holding her there like she wasn’t even real. Ivar pulled back as oxygen failed him, his forehead still pressed against hers as they shared the air, his hands holding her jaw alike as he put his mouth back on hers.

“I love you,” Ivar said purely, his words slipping into her mouth. “I love you. I love you. I love you,”

*

The wooden lines of the floorboards were not the place she would hold comfort, their strict straight backing only helped to keep her own spine that way when it failed. Bright oak against her skin as the ache in her middle was still ignored—the powerful blossoming forgotten as she watched Ivar ghost his lips just past hers. With a whine from her mouth she saw him smile against her thigh, snickering into her skin as her torment was music to his ears. His obsessive nature with tracing every inch of her skin, ever line he painted on her, relishing in her taste, as the colorful galaxies of hickeys would appear tomorrow.

Flattening his tongue against her slit and dragging it, the sensation to her most sensitive parts pulled a gasp from Jadelyn, unexpected journey finally catching her as she watched Ivar pull her apart farther before ducking down to suck at her clit. A slight tip of her head against the floorboards met her cranium with a sharp pain for a brief second, quickly swallowed up by Ivar’s lips again moving through her womanhood, moaning in just as much ecstasy at how she was flavored. His mouth went slack for a moment, her scent surrounding him as his nails dug against her thighs, his own cock straining in his pants. Rising his tongue again to swirl, he peeled one hand from her thigh to tease her entrance, slowly pushing a finger inside as he curled it, the chorus of pleasure meeting his ears.

Jadelyn reached for his opposite hand as he kept his movements consistent, pulling his arm to get him to meet him at her level. A high whine slipped as Ivar peeked up, her mouth dropping as she watched him. Maneuvering to climb her, she could taste herself on his mouth with the slip of another finger into her cunt, the quick nudge against the golden spot inside of her as Ivar felt her mouth drop open against his. A surge of fluid met his hand as she moaned, Ivar’s lips curling into a smirk against her faltering ones as she came.

“Don’t move,” Ivar said against her mouth, pulling his fingers away as he climbed over her, the thick pressing of his length searing along her. Only a small roll of the grey sweats freed his cock, pressing it into her slowly with the aftershocks of her past orgasm still fluttering as he sunk in. Looping her arms around his neck, matching the movement with her legs, the small shift of her hips only sent him deeper, the sensation tightening her around him again as Ivar couldn’t contain his own moan. “Fuck, baby,” He hissed into her neck, pulling back enough for a powerful thrust into her heat, ringing a scream from her mouth as the noise of skin slapping skin echoed through the hall. Ivar moved again, one hand gripping at her hip to hold her there, the dotting of bruises already tickling her flesh. Without warning he went harder still, juices and sweat collecting between them and over their clothes as he felt himself right on the cusp of his own release.

“Harder, Ivar,” Jadelyn moaned, tipping her head back despite the floor holding her there. “Harder,” She repeated, her inquiry going against his ears as he complied, snapping as hard as he could, his hips stuttering as he felt the quick pierces of her nails along his backside, the muscles under them seizing when his orgasm grabbed hold of him. Juices leaching from her cunt as she came again, Ivar’s hips not ceasing until he felt the pull on his whole shaft, halting with a grunt as he released inside of her. Her bones were numb against the wood grains, panting around both of them as they lay there. “You’re going to break your back if we’re going to try to christen the whole house,” Jadelyn finally huffed after a few seconds, Ivar’s snicker echoing from where his lips had stuck to her neck.

*

“I consider myself moderate, borderline peaceful,” Ivar hummed, the buzz of the tattoo gun filling the room after he spoke.

“At the last gala Ragnarsson,” Jadelyn started, watching the ink come across her skin to harbor the knowledge she was an engaged woman, “You almost took the carving knife off of the table to throw at Bjorn,”

“First off, stop calling me Ragnarsson, missy, because you’re getting the same last name. Second, the carving knife was very moderate and peaceful compared to the whole table I wanted to throw,” Ivar responded as he laid the Vaseline against Jadelyn’s skin before tracing the needle against the next line.

“Ivar, I don’t have an account set up for bail money,” Sigurd huffed from his spot, a toss of the popcorn through the air to land on his tongue. As Ivar finished, a smile spread over his face, matching Jadelyn’s before bouncing to claim Sigurd’s too. Turning his machine off and adding another layer of ointment, Ivar peeled one glove from his hand to pull Jadelyn’s chin towards his lips again.

“You’re really mine,” He whispered just loudly enough so she could hear it.

“Ragnarsson,” Jadelyn teased back, sealing that against his lips.

“Alright, either go get a room or hold it so we can start drinking,” Sigurd groaned, a hand full of popcorn flying into their direction.

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