Ivar X Reader - Blog Posts

"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

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

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

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Ivar is tired.

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

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

Ivar is also angry.

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

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

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

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

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

"Who is she?"

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

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

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

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

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

And then appears he.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I believe this belongs to you."

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

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

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

"And why should I keep it?"

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

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

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

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

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

You wish you knew the answer yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄…. 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘

Guess who’s 1) finally got out of her writers block and 2) finally has time to write and 3) doesn’t have a bunch of shit going left in her life…. THIS GIRL!!!

Which means I’m Not Okay (part three is coming soon to an account near you) I’m half way finished writing part three, so let me know if you would like to be tagged in part three!

𝐈’𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘

↳ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗼

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 || 1.4k+

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 || Ivar’s work stress causes him to yell at someone on the phone, which triggers y/n’s ptsd.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 || yelling, mentions of bruises, crying, ptsd.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 || modern ivar x reader

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 || this story will contain triggering subjects, if you are easily triggered this may not be the story for you, if you can relate to any of the topics this series is/will be discussing I am so sorry, just know you are not alone and it’s okay to ask for help. Also, if you would like to be tagged, feel free to ask.

𝗶 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱, 𝗼𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆

regular pov:

The drive to Ivar's apartment was silent, not an uncomfortable silence, but rather a calming one for her. Y/n realized she would need to embrace the quiet, recalling the time Hvitserk told her about Ivar's preference for solitude compared to her sociable nature.

Y/n’s mind had been racing the whole drive, she couldn’t help it. She was scared, terrified she’d end up right back to square one, and although on a subconscious level she knew if Hvitserk trusted Ivar with her, then he knew she wasn’t in any danger. It’s just, once those thoughts start it’s hard to make them stop. She had to really sit there, her eyes closed and internally repeat to herself, “I’m safe with Ivar, He isn’t going to hurt me.”

It wasn’t until she opened her eyes, and bravely looked over at him, only to see they were stopped at a red light, and that he was slightly smiling at her. This funny enough was what reassured her that staying with Ivar was safe, allowing her mind to finally find peace.

Upon arriving at his apartment, Ivar led y/n to a beautifully decorated room, though not her usual style, she chose not to voice any complaints. After a moment of silence between the two, Ivar took the hint and excused himself to start preparing dinner.

Ivar, was not known for his culinary skills but, decided to cook a meal for both of them, opting for a basic recipe y/n found online. Despite it not being gourmet, he figured the effort and thought behind the meal would count more than its taste.

Y/n unpacked her stuff and laid back on the queen size bed, after about a half an hour ivar called y/n for dinner, after repeating himself several times he got annoyed, thinking the girl was ignoring him he went into the room, only to see the girl passed out on the bed.

He smiled to himself at how peaceful she looked like this, he then grabbed a blanket and draped it over her body. He walked back out and ate alone before going to bed himself, as he laid in bed he thought about y/n, how approach having her here and how to make her comfortable, he knew that if he didn’t Hvitserk would have an absolute fit and, that’s not something ivar wanted to deal with.

Y/n awoke feeling completely refreshed and cozy. A sense of calm washed over her, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a while. As she sat up, she noticed a blanket draped over her that she didn't remember grabbing. After stretching, she made her way into the living room.

Having not explored the apartment the night before, she took in the modern yet simply decorated space, a style she found herself drawn to. Wanting to show her gratitude to Ivar for her stay, she decided to whip up a breakfast of bacon, French toast, and coffee. She got to work swiftly in the kitchen.

Ivar awoke to a delightful aroma filling the apartment, accompanied by soft music drifting through the air. After getting out of bed and grabbing his crutches, he made his way to the kitchen. Stepping into the spacious room, he found y/n cooking and dancing around with joy, a sight that he couldn't help but find adorable and carefree. A grin naturally spread across his face as he relished this side of you.

He appreciated this carefree and happy version of you, contrasting with the timid and reserved girl he had encountered the day before. Leaning against the nearby wall, the thud of his shoulder meeting the surface caused y/n to swiftly turn around to face him.

"Oh, umm, I apologize if I woke you up. I just wanted to express my gratitude for letting me stay here. My mom always believed that a homemade meal brings everyone joy , so..." she murmured softly as he approached.

"Don't apologize, you didn't wake me. I'm an early riser anyway. What's cooking?" He inquired before settling onto one of the seats at the island.

"French toast, bacon, and coffee are my go-to breakfast favorites. If you're not a fan, I can whip up something else for you," she responded with a bashful smile.

"No, that's perfect. What you've prepared sounds absolutely delicious," he assured her with a smile.

Y/n couldn't help but steal glances at him as he settled down, engrossed in his phone. He was undeniably attractive, clad only in black sweatpants that revealed his muscled torso adorned with intricate black ink. Every tattoo seemed to captivate her; she found them all stunning and impeccably positioned.

She plated his meal and served him, handing him his coffee along with all the fixings so he could customize it to his liking. She opted for this approach to avoid any mishaps with his coffee that might upset him. She had learned her lesson when she attempted to get Lucas’s coffee order right, that hadn’t ended all that well for her. They sat together in silence, enjoying their meal, while y/n's thoughts wandered freely.

It was a reasonable concern, given all the stories Hvitserk had shared about Ivar. She was aware of his temper but believed he would never harm a woman. Despite this, she couldn't shake off her fear. Having experienced the brutality of a stronger man firsthand for some time now, she was determined to ensure her own safety. Meeting Ivar just the day before, her knowledge of him was limited to what Hvitserk had disclosed, which wasn't much due to his respect for his brother's privacy.

After breakfast, y/n was washing the dishes while Ivar sat in the living room, engaged in a phone call discussing the need for the higher-ups to "get their shit together." She was aware that he primarily worked from home, only occasionally having to go into the office due to his role being one of said higher-ups. Understanding that his work was not her concern, she proceeded to dry and put away the dishes.

Within minutes, the shouting began, causing her to freeze in place. She instinctively shut her eyes, as if a movie started playing behind her eyelids. Vivid memories surfaced, recalling all the instances when Lucas would raise his voice at her, each violent outburst leading to even more distressing situations.

As Ivar was yelling over the missing money from one of their accounts, y/n found herself trapped in her own distressing thoughts, her hands trembling and breathing becoming erratic.

Feeling overwhelmed, she abandoned the dishes, retreated to her room, gathered some toiletries, and made her way to the bathroom, where she turned on the shower.

Seated on the shower floor, with the water cascading over her head, she curled up in a fetal position, shaking and crying while attempting to regulate her breathing. The deep breaths caused pain, especially from the sizable bruise on her ribcage. She tried to stifle her sobs, not wanting Ivar to hear them, she knew it wasn’t his fault she reacted this way, and she knew he wasn’t angry at her but, she was finding it hard to rationalise that in her mind.

It would appear her mind couldn’t comprehend that Ivar wasn’t going to hurt her, y/n hadn’t realized until now just how much Lucas had messed up it’s her mind, she couldn’t believe she had ended up in that type of relationship, she had always thought she’d be stronger than that. Y/n guessed that Lucas had taken advantage of her overly kind nature, using it to manipulate her over time, and that made her feel even more upset. Just like that, the sobs started up again and even harder then before.

After ending the call, Ivar was visibly furious, rising from the couch and flinging his phone onto a cushion before glancing towards the kitchen. The sink still held a stack of clean dishes, but y/n was nowhere to be seen not that he minded.

Contrary to his expectations, he hadn't anticipated her doing the dishes; in fact, he had offered to take care of them after their meal. It was y/n who insisted on handling the chore, stating, "It's only fair since I made the mess." Now, she had disappeared without a trace. Being the inquisitive man he was, Ivar set out to find her, checking her room first, then moving on to his own, which was usually off-limits. If she had chosen to explore the spacious apartment, he wouldn't be as hard on her as he would’ve been with anyone else.

Having no luck in the other spare rooms, he explored the loft apartment he had all to himself. The vast space was both delightful and profoundly isolating for him. He cherished the roominess but couldn't shake off the feeling of loneliness it accentuated. As his mother would say “What good was wealth if you couldn't share it with someone?”

Eventually, he reached the bathroom. The sound of running water led him to believe she was simply preparing for the day ahead. As he started to move away from the door, faint yet unmistakable sobs reached his ears from inside.

Initially puzzled by the sudden onset of her distress, he recalled her behavior when Hvitserk raised his voice in her apartment the previous day. Despite her initial shyness, she had appeared content this morning. It was only then that he realized his actions had led to her current state.

Ivar had caused many people cry, men, women, teenagers, even children if he raised his voice near them. He never regretted it before. He believed others deserved to experience the same brokenness he felt inside. Not exactly a healthy outlook and he knew that but, he wasn’t about to change himself for people who didn’t truly care about him. This however... listening to y/n cry because of him, seeing her pain from being reminded of such an awful person. It twisted Ivar's stomach in the worst way, made his heart halt in his chest, and stirred a protective urge in him, wanting to shield her from the world.

This sensation was foreign to him after a long time. It dawned on him that he needed to be mindful of his actions around her. Unbeknownst to them, but they would change eachother for the better, and together they would find a love, they had both been searching for almost their entire lives.

next part ➵

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀: @youbloodymadgenius @pixluru @love-all-things-writing @that-virgo-witch @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivarhoegh @mynameisiliana @liecr7 @violetbody1 @puuree-intentiionss @smears-and-spots @anotherfan07 @ivarcansteponmeanytime

𝐈’𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 || modern!ivar x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 || Hvitserk finds out that his best friend from college, is in an abusive relationship. With no room at his apartment he asks his brother ivar, to let her use the empty room in his until she gets back on her feet.

fanfic 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

parts || 𝗱𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝘃𝗶𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗼 || 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲 || part 𝗼𝗻𝗲 || part 𝘁𝘄𝗼 || part 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 || part 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 || part 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 || part 𝘀𝗶𝘅 || 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 || 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 || 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲 || 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗲𝗻

𝐈’𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘

↳ 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 count || 4k+

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 || Hvitserk finds out why y/n has been acting so weird, and y/n meets ivar but not in the way she was hoping.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 || domestic abuse, slight hints of ptsd, mentions/depictions of injuries, yelling, violence, and swearing.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 || modern ivar x female reader

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 || this fanfic will contain triggering subjects, if you are easily triggered this may not be the story for you, if you can relate to any of the topics this series is/will be discussing I am so sorry, just know you are not alone and it’s okay to ask for help. Also, if you want to be tagged, feel free to let me know.

additional 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 || I am back! And am planning to finish this series, updates will probably be slow as I do work full time, but I will try as best I can to keep a consistent post schedule. I hope you enjoy the updated and edited version of part one!

𝗶 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱, 𝗼𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆

Hvitserk was perched on his couch, bubbling with anticipation. It had been ages since he last laid eyes on his brother, Ivar, who rarely stepped out of his apartment unless absolutely necessary. Hvitserk recalled the time he asked about Ivar's seclusion, to which Ivar simply retorted, "Why bother wasting my time?"

Convincing Ivar to socialize or even visit family was a monumental task. Despite Ivar's love for his siblings, gatherings often led to conflict. Finally, Hvitserk had persuaded his brother to come over, assuring him it would be just the two of them to avoid any potential disputes.

As a knock echoed through the apartment, Hvitserk rose and excitedly made his way to the door. Opening it, he was taken aback by the sight of his clearly newly transformed brother standing before him.

"Has my dashingly good looks stunned you, brother?" Ivar quipped with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up! Your hair threw me off, that's all," Hvitserk chuckled, ushering him inside.

"So, what have you been up to?" Hvitserk inquired.

"Work's been the same, nothing new," Ivar responded, settling onto the couch and resting his crutches on the armrest.

After a few beers, the brothers fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. Hvitserk succeeded in getting Ivar to open up, the siblings sharing laughter and banter until Ivar broached the topic of Hvitserk's friends.

At the mention of his friends, Hvitserk's thoughts drifted. He had managed to keep thoughts of y/n at bay, focusing on his brother, but y/n's absence from class that week tugged at his mind.

Hvitserk hadn’t realized he has zoned out, until Ivar began snapping his fingers in his face.

  "Hey! You okay there bro? You spaced out for a good minute there." Ivar asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Actually, no. Not at all." Hvitserk replied, as he played with his fingers anxiously. 

Hvitserk's usual demeanor, full of humor and confidence, had rarely wavered. Witnessing him in such a distressed and serious state left Ivar feeling uneasy. Despite their occasional disagreements, his brothers were his pillars of strength, and the sight of Hvitserk in this vulnerable state stirred a sense of fear within Ivar, though he would never openly acknowledge it.

"Hvitty, what's going on?" He asked.

He watched as his brother took a deep sigh, rubbing his hands over his face before, he began explaining his predicament.

"You know my friend y/n right?" He asked his brother.

"I've never met her but, yes you and mom have told me about her. Why?" Ivar responded confused.

"She's been acting really fucking off lately, and if I'm completely honest it's freaking me out dude." He told him.

"What do you mean by off?" Ivar asked.

"We're really close, I mean she's basically my sister, we always call, text, and we hangout at least once a week but, she's been ignoring me the last three weeks." He explained.

"Maybe she's sick of you." Ivar tried to joke, he quickly shut up when he looked over and saw just how upset his brother was. In fact, Ivar had only ever seen Hvitserk look this upset once before… when he had gotten in his accident.

"She's not like that. She doesn't have a good relationship with her family, and she doesn't have many friends, so the people she does have in her life she treats like family."

“Not to mention, she hasn’t been to any of her classes lately.”

"Maybe, she’s just going through something personal dude. Did you ever think of that?" Ivar suggested.

"That's what mom and Ubbe said. Although, I don't think that's it, she only started acting like this after a little she met Lucas."

"Who the hell is Lucas?" Ivar asked, genuinely confused.

"Her new boyfriend, I've never met the guy but she’s told me a bit about him, and she seems to really like him." Hvitserk told him.

"It’s probably that the boyfriend doesn't like you, I mean didn't you try to hit on this girl the first time you ever talked to her?" He smirked at his brother.

"I mean yeah, but she shut that down immediately and, our relationship isn't like that. I don't see her in that kinda way, and she sure as hel doesn’t see me that way." Hvitserk emphasised.

"Well... I don't wanna say this cause I don't know the guy, perhaps he's one of those super controlling guys, you know the ones who don’t want their girlfriends being friends with men.” Ivar was trying to give this guy “Lucas” the benefit of the doubt in this situation but, even he himself who wasn’t close to the situation was beginning to wonder what was actually going on.

You see ivar and his two other brothers, Ubbe and Sigurd… or siggy as some called him, had always made fun of Hvitserk, more so his intelligence. They would always say he was “more heart then brain”, this however was all teasing between brothers. Ivar knew that Hvitserk was actually quite intelligent, both academically and when it came to the behaviours of his loved ones. So, if Hvitserk was this freaked out maybe he had the right to be, maybe something deeper was happening here.

"If that's the cause maybe I should go over there, introduce myself and let the guy know she's basically family, and he has nothing to worry about." Hvitserk suggested, sounding slightly more hopeful.

"Yeah, I guess that's a good idea."

"Ok cool, get up." Hvitserk told his brother.

"I beg your pardon!?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We're going over there." Hvitserk said.

"What now? Can't you wait?" Ivar asked slightly annoyed.

“Also, who is “we” in this situation?”

"We Is you and me, I haven’t seen you in like forever, just think of this as a side quest for the day. And it can’t wait because I won't be able to stop thinking about this, at least until I do it. So, we're going now let's go." Hvitserk demanded, already by the door and grabbing his coat.

"Ugh... fine." Ivar let out a heavy sigh before he got up, grabbing his crutches and pulling out his keys, before walking to the door.

Ivar had insisted that he would drive, despite his legs being in near excruciating pain, his brothers constant fidgeting on the way to the parking garage, made him nervous to have him behind the wheel. So, Hvitserk gave Ivar the directions to y/n’s apartment building, the drive to her place consisted of Hvitserk staying oddly silent, almost stoic looking while Ivar’s heavy metal playlist hummed on in the background. It was truly an unnerving sight for the younger man.

Once they arrived, the men got out of the car and began to make their way to the main entrance, as soon as they got past the threshold Hvitserk was all but running towards the elevator, much to Ivars annoyance.

"What floor is she on?" Ivar asked as they entered the elevator.

"Oh ugh five, sorry." Hvitserk apologized, he felt like his head was all over the place, different scenarios both good and bad kept playing in his head, he was just unsure if he was being too dramatic or, if he was about to walk into a shit show.

"Dude stop worrying, I’m sure everything is going to be fine.”

"Yeah I know, I just can't help it. She's the only girl who doesn't just put up with me, she actually likes hanging out with me for me, she doesn't want to be my friend for our family's money or a quick fuck you know." Hvitserk told his brother.

He didn’t know actually. Sure, Ivar was an extremely attractive man however, his disability coupled with his overall grumpy attitude, weren’t exactly a good mix when attracting friends or even lovers. Ivar had been in a serious relationship before, and he was by no means a virgin but his overall distaste for companionship outside of his family, did result in him having little to no experience in an healthy adult relationship.

"She's sounds like a ray of sunshine, a real Sol brother really, especially if she can put up with all your shit." Ivar joked with a laugh.

"Yeah, she's great." Hvitserk smiled as the elevator dinged.

The pair walked off and Ivar followed behind his brother, Ivar wasn't a snob or at least he liked to think he wasn’t, not like most rich kids their age but, he couldn't help but think this apartment complex was disgusting, to like an appalling level. He genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if they had gotten into some trouble for having health code violations.

Hvitserk stopped in front of a door with a big “78” on it, and knocked. They waited but didn't hear anything, the two looked and each-other before Hvitserk knocked again, this time they could hear movement inside the apartment so they knew someone was home.

"Who is it?" A soft feminine voice called out from from behind the door.

"Y/n it's me, I just wanted to talk to you real quick, so if you could open the door that would be nice." Hvitserk responded with a light chuckle.

  "Oh, now isn’t really a good time." She replied, which made Ivar frown. If this girl was as close to his brother as he had said, for the love of Odin why couldn't she let them in. He was beginning to get annoyed, his legs were aching and he just wanted to sit down.

  "Y/n come on, please just let me in I'm worried about you." Hvitserk desperately asked.

They heard the door being unlocked, and the door opened to the most beautiful woman Ivar had ever seen, but her eyes had a dull look in them, and there was a bruise gracing the right one. The bruise looked angry, the swelling wasn’t too bad and it wasn’t too vibrant, which led Ivar to believe it was a few days old at this point. Here in this moment is where he began to put the puzzle pieces together, the missing school, the distance she put between herself and his brother, how all of those things seemed to coincide with her getting a new boyfriend….

Ivar wasn’t stupid, in fact he was probably the smartest of his brothers, academically speaking. He knew what was happening here, although some would believe he had a heart made of ice, he didn’t. Seeing this beautiful woman who his brother and family spoke so highly of, standing in the entrance of her apartment, with a clear view of the living room that had clearly been trashed in a fit of rage, with a black eye made his chest hurt.

Hvitserk pushed his way in, with Ivar following close behind watching as his brother gently grabbed his best friends face "what the hell happened to you?" He all but whimpered, as Ivar made himself comfortable on the one seater in front of the pair.

"I um.. I got into a fight." Y/n lied, and not very well Ivar thought to himself, the woman in front of him didn't look the type to engage in violence, she seemed to be the type to want to talk things out, and if that didn’t work run the other way.

"A fight, really? With who y/n?" Hvitserk asked in disbelief.

"Just some girl okay, I don’t know. Can we drop it please?”

   "No, I’m not gonna drop it, not when I know you’re lying, so who hit you y/n?" Hvitserk demanded, Ivar watched as her eyes began to water and she started to shake.

"Lucas." she whispered with a faint whimper, before the girl then began to sob into Hvitserk chest.

Hvitserk pulled her into a tight hug, rubbing her back and taking deep breath's to keep himself calm, Ivar wasn't typically one to care about people he didn't know but, seeing this girl cry made his chest tighten up again, he couldn't help but feel an almost insane amount of anger towards the boy, yes boy Ivar thought. Men don’t hit their partners.

Whoever this man was, Ivar knew that his brother wasn't gonna let him get away with it, they knew a lot of people and a lot of those people owed their family “favours”, they'd have no problem beating whoever this guy was to a plump and, leaving him for dead in an alleyway so far away that he wouldn’t think of coming back.

    "He's dead y/n, dead!" Hvitserk said.

"No! Hvitty it was my fault! I said something that upset him ok!" She said.

  "That doesn’t fucking excuse anything y/n! This was in no fucking way your fault, no man should ever hit his girlfriend, even if he is mad. Do you understand?" Hvitserk shouted, which caused y/n to flinch away from him at the volume.

At this point Ivar figured he needed to step in, he knew his brother could get passionate when he was worked up, and the more worked up Hvitserk got the louder he got. That very obviously wasn’t helping, not that his brother noticed but Ivar did, the flinches given the situation was a clear indication that she was frightened.

"Okay, okay. Hvitserk calm down, yelling isn't gonna solve anything." Ivar interjected, getting up and walking towards the pair. Ivar watched as y/n seemed to finally clue in, that she wasn’t alone with his brother and that there was indeed another witness to what was happening.

"We haven't met before but I'm Ivar." He introduced himself, extending his hand to the woman.

“Y/n, I've heard a lot about you." She smiled through the tears falling down her face.

"Here's what we're gonna do okay, y/n why don't you pack a bag and we'll go back to Hvitserk's apartment, we can figure out how to proceed from there." Ivar softly suggested, trying to be the voice of reason.

"Okay." She whispered before walking to her room. Once ivar was sure she was out of earshot he laid into his brother, punching him in the shoulder. 

"Ow! What the hel! What was that for?" Hvitserk whined.

"For scaring your friend, I understand you’re upset but that girl has been through enough, yelling at her isn't what she needs right now, what she needs is someone she can trust, and feel safe with." Ivar told his brother, kind of annoyed with the fact he had to explain this to his brother.

"Yeah okay, you’re right I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to, but we'll deal with all this when we get back to your apartment."

After y/n grabbed her things, the three went back down to Ivar’s car and, drove all the way back to Hvitserk's apartment. Once there, she sat down on the love seat in a daze, while the brothers sat in front of her on the couch, the silence between them wasn't awkward. No, it was something more sad then that.

  "Y/n, you can't stay with him. you have to know that, I won't let you." Hvitserk told her.

"I know." She sounded exhausted, Ivar hadn't taken his eyes off her, he couldn't believe this is how his day was turning out but, he also couldn’t believe he had turned down meeting her before.

He knew he had no chance with a girl like her, she was everything he wasn’t. Kind, soft spoken and from what he had been told but, she was absolutely gorgeous even with bruises all over her.

  "Where am I gonna stay Hvitty? Lucas knows where I live, and stays with me most nights, how am I gonna leave? Where am I gonna go?" Y/n asked, desperation clear in her voice.

   "I don't know y/n, give me minute to figure it out bug."

       "Does Lucas have a key to your place?" Ivar interrupted.

“No, he’s normally with me wherever I go, he needed one.” She replied blankly.

"How about first you text him, lie that your gonna be out of town for a week, I'm assuming he won't show up if he thinks you're not there, that gives you guys time to figure out where your gonna stay and get the rest of your stuff." Ivar suggested.

       "That's actually a really good idea.” Hvitserk told her, making Ivar roll his eyes. 

“Of course it is.” The latter smugly agreed.

“Now, I would offer to let you stay here but, this is a one bed, one bath. You would end up on the couch, which isn't great for sleeping, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable plus, with all the girls I bring home on drunken nights out it wouldn't be a great idea." He admitted.

      "But... Ivar has a two bedroom apartment he lives in himself, you could stay with him." He suggested, and Ivar nearly gave himself whiplash with how fast his head whipped to look at his brother with a frown.

      "Umm, Hvitserk. Real quick may I speak with you for a minute in the other room." Ivar asked, not waiting for a response he stood up and walked into the other room, Hvitserk sighed before getting up and following his brother.

Y/n could hear them whispering, just softly enough to pique her curiosity without revealing their conversation. They had been away for some time now. Despite her hesitations, she rose from the seat and approached the door. Y/n’s gaze fell upon Ivar perched on his brother's bed, with Hvitserk standing before him.

As she looked at Ivar she noticed how attractive he truly was. Sure, she had been friends with Hvitserk for awhile now, both he and his family she had met were attractive. It seemed to be a genetic but with Ivar it was different, everything about him screamed model. From the sculpted features of his face, his long luscious hair, and piercing blue eyes.

For a split second, y/n let herself fantasise about what it would be like to be with him, in her own world they’re together, and he treats her like a Queen. Going out of his way to make her feel beautiful everyday but unfortunately, she lives in reality. A man from his background wouldn’t see someone as broken as she felt in the present moment, as anything more then a friend.

“Oh come on, it would just be until she gets on her feet, a month or two at most.” Hvitserk told Ivar.

“Hvitty, listen. I understand that she’s your friend, and she’s in a bad situation right now but, you can’t just offer my place to her. Especially without talking to me about it first, I like my personal space and I don’t know her the way you do, you know how I am with new people.” Ivar tried to explain, to Y/n it was perfectly reasonable, not to mention he sounded like he felt guilty.

“Do you know how selfish you sound, I mean Odin Ivar! I understand your issues I do, but her boyfriend beat the shit out of her, she needs to get out of there and it would only be temporary.” Hvitserk said raising his voice.

Y/n cleared your throat, making her presence known. Which in turn, caused both men to whip their heads in her direction.

"Hvitserk, please don't pressure him into letting me stay. If he's not comfortable with it, that's okay. I can find another place to stay for now. It's really fine," she softly reassured, attempting to ease the situation for Ivar.

She shot a glance at Hvitserk, silently urging him to let it go, especially since this was her first encounter with his younger brother. The meeting hadn't gone as she had envisioned, and she didn't want to escalate it further. A heavy sigh seemed to fill the room, prompting both of them to look away from each other and towards Ivar, who had his head buried in his hands.

"He's right. I do have the space, and I don't want you going back there either. You can stay with me until you're back on your feet. I want to head home now, today has clearly been a long day for all of us, so let's get going," Ivar declared as he rose and walked past you, crutches in hand, heading out the door.

She glanced at Hvitserk in disbelief, pausing before trailing after his brother, wrestling with guilt as Hvitserk essentially pressured him into accommodating her.

next part ➵

𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 :)

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀: @youbloodymadgenius

𝐈’𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘

↳ 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 || 1K+

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 || the back story of ivar and y/n before they met eachother.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 || car accident, driving under the influence, trauma, ptsd, domestic abuse, violence, swearing

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 || modern ivar x female reader

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 || this fanfic will contain triggering subjects, if you are easily triggered this may not be the story for you, if you can relate to any of the topics this series is/will be discussing I am so sorry, just know you are not alone and it’s okay to ask for help. Also, if you want to be tagged, feel free to let me know.

𝗶 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱, 𝗼𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆

The reputation of the Ragnarsson family was widely recognized; Ragnar and his second wife Aslaug ran the largest law firm in Kattegat. Their sons Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar held considerable influence at school. They were the envy of guys and the desire of girls, despite being known as players. Interestingly, Ivar was the only one who didn't show off about it.

Ivar cherished his solitude, but don't be fooled by that; just because he valued his privacy didn't mean he wasn't as mischievous as his brothers when it came to the ladies. To be honest, the attention made him feel like royalty.

However, everything changed one fateful night. At the age of 16, he made a life-altering decision to get into a car with his best friend, who was clearly too intoxicated to drive. Despite Ivar being equally under the influence, in his drunken state, he thought it was a brilliant idea.

It wasn't until he woke up in the hospital, surrounded by his family sleeping in chairs around his bed, that he realized the gravity of the situation. When he asked his mother about the events, tears threatened to fall as he learned they had collided with another vehicle while under the influence, and he was the sole survivor. To make matters worse, the doctor later mentioned that the injuries sustained could lead to permanent paraplegia, a devastating blow that required a waiting period for confirmation.

Aslaug, driven by a mother's love, observed the profound impact on her child when the doctor disclosed his condition. She sprang into action, ensuring he received top medical care, appropriate medications, and the best treatment money could provide. The accident altered him significantly, a transformation that was clear to his entire family.

They put in the work, but Ivar wasn't satisfied with just "enough."

Although he should have felt content about regaining the ability to walk, it came at a price. He now relied on leg braces, crutches, and occasionally his wheelchair if he walked for extended periods. The wheelchair symbolized weakness to him, serving as a constant reminder of that fateful night.

The memories of that traumatic night lingered, fueling the PTSD that tormented his mind. The vivid nightmares haunted him to the point where even after waking up in distress, he struggled to differentiate between reality and the horrors of his dreams.

It didn't just end there, no. Why would it? He transitioned from the popular, bad boy, player that everyone desired or aspired to be, to the furious, aggressive individual that everyone avoided. Even Ivar noticed the transformation, witnessing the sympathetic gazes from classmates, the murmurs behind his back, and the shift of attention from girls who once sought him to now shunning the "poor cripple" brother. So, he disregarded their fear of his newfound anger; in his view, being feared surpassed being pitied.

At that moment, he decided to live the rest of his life in seclusion, filled with anger, aggression, and a vow to never reveal his emotions to anyone except family.

After all, you can't get hurt if you don't let anyone in.

When college rolled in, Hvitserk crossed paths with Y/n. To be frank, he wasn't exactly on the lookout for a friend when he spotted her. In fact, his initial words to her were, "Has anyone ever mentioned that you resemble a goddess?" he quipped.

Her response was a gentle giggle that he found endearing, but what truly surprised him was her comeback.

“Nice one, I mean really excellent line. How many other girls have fallen for that?" she retorted with a smirk of her own.

From that moment forward, he truly got to know her, Y/n became his best friend. She was his go-to for girl advice, the one he turned to for family rants, the one who never judged or steered him wrong. Y/n had even met his mother and older brother Ubbe. Meeting Ubbe was a piece of cake as he was quite friendly, but his mother was a whole different experience.

Hvitserk was pleasantly surprised by his mother's newfound affection for the girl, convinced that she could make her a daughter-in-law somehow. Despite Hvitserk's attempts to reason with his mother that it was unlikely, Aslaug remained convinced saying “it was written in the stars.” His mother did always seem to have a supernatural ability to perfectly predict the future, so who knows maybe it would happen twenty years down the line.

Y/n had been one of the few dependable people in Hvitserk's life until she met her boyfriend Lucas. Initially understanding of her shifting priorities in a new relationship, Hvitserk grew concerned as Y/n gradually distanced herself completely. She stopped joining him for movie nights, avoided him in public, and ceased responding to his calls and texts.

He knew her better than anyone else, and this behavior wasn't like her at all. She used to be a social butterfly, always texting, calling, and visiting him. Her sudden change scared the hel out of him. He confided in his mother, who advised him to give her some space.

His mother suggested that maybe she was going through something and needed time to deal with it on her own. Despite his instincts telling him otherwise, he decided to trust his mother's advice. In the end, he would realize that he should have listened to his gut; it was a decision he would regret not making sooner.

next part ➵

¡! ❞ ｔｒｏｕｂｌｅｓｏｍｅ

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴: 𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘩𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘬 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘯

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬

-/-

you sat in the main hall as everyone finished celebrating. ivar had just announced the next raids and everyone was more than excited. you, however, weren’t looking forward to being without your husband as you both had just married. you wished to spend time with him but you knew what kind of person he was when you both wed.

at last, the only people left in the hall were you, ivar in his throne and a drunken hvitserk. noticing them seemingly in a deep conversation you turned to the bedroom when you were called.

“brother,” ivar began, hand pulling you into his lap. “something has been troubling me. my beautiful wife has noticed you staring at her.” his mouth quirked upwards with that familiar sense of mischief.

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, when had you told ivar this? “staring? when?” he finished with a mouth full of ale.

“never mind that. you know what this tells me, it tells me you think you are better than me brother.” ivar’s hand began to rub your thigh. “am i correct?”

“no- i could never..”

“staring at her beautiful face, “ his fingers brushed your cheek. “staring at her body,” his hand squeezed your thigh as you stared at him timidly. “staring at her chest.” suddenly his hand ripped open your top, your boobs spilling out.

“ivar!” you exclaimed, arms going to cover your self.

“i understand now!” he clapped, “you wish to fuck her.”

“no.” hvitserk seemed to have sobered up at his brother’s actions.

“yes,” ivar chuckled, “yes you do, brother. well go head.”

“what?” both you and hvitserk asked in sync.

“no, i can’t. she’s yo-your…” hvitserk mumbled inaudibly. your eyes traveled to his and he quickly looked away, refusing to make eye contact. had he really been staring at you this entire time, wishing for your affections?

“my what, hvitserk?” ivar’s tone had darkened as if he had grown tired of the little game between him and his older brother.

“your wife.” he finally coughed up.

“correct. now watch me fuck my beautiful wife.” his hand roughly grasped your cheeks, planting a hard kiss to your lips. his other hand began working on your skirts, ripping them open till you were only down to your garments.

“ivar…” you whispered.

“ssh, my love.” too soaked for your dignity you began opening his pants revealing his hard length. “go ‘head, darling.” you sat down on his length, allowing him to stretch you out slowly.

“fuck.” he grumbled, hands going your guide your hips. “faster.” he commanded, a slap landing on your ass.

you sped up, hips grinding into his length with velocity. you could care less where you were right now or who was watching. this was the most ivar had touched you in awhile.

moaning, you began to lean back. as your head curved back, your eyes met hvitserk’s. ivar chuckled as his hands went into his pants revealing his member.

“i guess he did want to fuck you after all.”

Told You

Ivar the Boneless x ofc

Word Count: 2431

Warnings: mature language, explicit sexual content.

Groans and cries boomed throughout the hut, a woman begging for more as a man encouraged her to take it like a 'good girl'. The sounds from Ivar's room were pure filth, the splintering of the wooden bed accompanied by a shriek to Odin. Yet, the room's typical tenant sat outside the door, gritting his teeth with blue eyes ablaze.

Footsteps approached, the noise getting closer and closer, but the man did not shift from his twitchy state, back against the cold wall and legs spread uselessly in front of him. "Ivar Lothbrok, you dirty pervert!" Elli bellowed, appearing before the young prince, shocking him from his murderous stupor. "Listening to your brother as he makes love to his woman! Absolutely shameful!" She chided, taking a seat beside him, their shoulders brushing.

Ivar listened to the constant swearing and whining behind the door, shaking his head. "Nothing about that sounds like love," He snorted. "Besides, where am I to go? My room is clearly occupied." He tapped the closed door, but no response came.

Rolling her eyes, Elli shoved her friend's shoulder, leaning in close. "Why not find your own woman and take her to Hvitserk's room for a bit of revenge?" Elli whispered, giggling at her master plan, ignoring his blank face.

The pair had been friends since childhood, with Elli being the only juvenile to overlook Ivar's legs and persevere through his temper tantrums. Although Elli did not enjoy the activities Ivar did, war and violence, they grew to be inseparable, the girl all but adopted into the Ragnarsson family and adored by all of Kattegat. While Ivar was a scorching wildfire, prepared to obliterate everything in his path, Elli was the morning sea, gentle and welcoming.

Clapping his hands, Ivar exhaled. "Oh, my innocent Elli, your master plan is flawless." The sarcasm flowed from his tongue. Holding up one figure, he wagged it in front of her tracking eyes before tapping her cold nose, jostling her. "The problem, however, is that I cannot have a woman." He spat.

Elli's face twisted, her lips pursed and nose scrunched. "What do you m– oh…" Her face dropped. Ivar clenched his jaw, humming and averting his eyes away from her. "Surely that is not the case!" She exclaimed, grabbing Ivar's chin and forcing his downcast eyes to meet her bright ones. Pulling out of her grip, Ivar sent her a pointed glare. Elli just shrugged. "Well, were you relaxed?"

"Of course, I was." He declared, finding the filthy floor more interesting than her raised brow. Rolling his eyes, Ivar sighed. "No," he grumbled, flicking dirt off his trousers.

Elli cheered, throwing her arms in the air. "That is your problem! You need to find somebody you can be comfortable around." She tutted. "You are far too concerned about how people will perceive your legs to relax in a situation like that; fear will scare your manhood away!"

Ivar choked. "And how would you know anything about that?!" he demanded, wondering what experience his angelic friend had and how he didn't know about it.  

Elli huffed, crossing her arms. "I listen to woman talk, Ivar."

Clearing his throat, Ivar accepted her answer and moved on, yet it continued to dwell in his mind. "Where do you suggest I find someone like that? In case you have forgotten, I am not close with many people."

Elli paused, observing Ivar's dejected frame, before shrugging. "Well, why don't we just do it together?"

Suddenly, the obnoxious noises from Ivar's room faded into the background. A ringing echoed in his ears, and he could feel the blood drain from his face, his hands becoming sweaty. Licking his lips, Ivar stuttered, "Ar–are you sure? This cannot be taken back."

Elli smiled softly. "Yes, but doing it with you makes sense. I want this to happen." She stated plainly, ignoring the rapid blinking of the Ragnarsson beside her. Standing up, Elli brushed off the dust from her dress and began to walk away. Realising the cripple had not started to follow her, she paused, turning back to see his gobsmacked face. "Well, are you coming or not?" She questioned. Elli did not wait for his response as she sauntered away, but the tell-tale sound of rapid dragging followed her footsteps.

†

Laying back on the bed, the woollen fleece itched and irritated his bare skin, but he ignored it in favour of staring at the woman perched on top of him, naked as the day she was born. Her trembling thighs rested atop of his, the silence surrounding them.

The two gawked at each other, the flickering fire illuminating their bodies and casting shadows around the room. Exhaling, Ivar lay there, not touching her. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He muttered, his hands twitching by his sides, desperate to touch her. Swallowing heavily, Elli nodded rapidly. Ivar chuckled lowly, his quaking hand trailing up her soft thigh, causing the woman to shudder. "I need to hear your words, Elli."

Elli leant down, her hair covering her bare breasts as she rested her hands on his shoulders. "I want this, Ivar," she rasped. "I want you."

Nodding to himself, Ivar saw the honesty glistening in her eyes. Licking his lips, the young prince pushed onto his forearms, bringing his face close to hers.

Elli could feel his rushed breath on her face and shuddered, worried he could hear the hurried beating of her heart. Leaning down, the young woman closed her eyes as their lips met. It was a firm but gentle kiss, unsure and tentative. Yet, it was comfortable... right. As the pair grew more confident, Ivar's shaking hand left her thigh and moved to her waist, gripping her tightly. His hand blindly reached up and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her close, their bodies pressed against one another in a warm embrace.

Elli's toes curled; his face grasped between her hands. She wanted more. She needed it. Instinctually, her body ground down on him, searching for relief. Ivar pulled away with a groan, throwing his head back. Elli did not let go of his face, but her eyes widened. Between her damp folds rested a hard, rigid penis. Raising a brow, she carefully rolled her hips. "Elli!" He moaned.

Elli smirked as Ivar paused, huffing and puffing. His eyes were blown wide, staring at the dim ceiling as he realised what had happened, what he thought would never happen. He had an erection.

As Ivar lay there, stunned, Elli began trailing her way down his stomach, leaving kisses and nibbles as a footprint of her path, licking stripes in the dips of his abdomen as roads. Ivar was knocked out of his daze and let out unsteady breaths as Elli became face-to-face with Ivar's member. It was engorged and larger than she had expected, a pretty pink tip atop a thick, veiny cock. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs.

Taking a deep breath, Elli leant down, running the flat of her tongue across his leaking tip. Ivar squirmed, hissing in pleasure. However, groans and gasps followed as Elli's tongue explored his throbbing length, stroking and sucking with her wet mouth, paying special attention to the thick vein that ran up his cock.

Elli rubbed her thighs together as her hand joined her mouth, her thumb caressing a slow circle around the head as she took languid, long strokes with her tongue, making his hips jerk and twitch.

Nodding to herself, Elli finally took Ivar's member in her mouth, both of them whimpering at the feeling. Ivar's head fell back, his parted mouth hung open, and eyes screwed shut as Elli's warm, wet mouth moved up and down his shaft. Elli tried to take all of him in her mouth but could not, gagging due to his considerable size, so her hand aided her, pumping up and down as she swirled her tongue around him.

Ivar cursed above her, digging his fingers into the damp fleece as grunts and shaky breaths emitted from him. Sneaking a glance down at Elli, he whimpered, seeing wide pupils already locked on him. The sight of her beautiful lips wrapped around his throbbing cock drove him wild. "Fuck," he groaned.  

Yet, he swallowed the whine that threatened to escape him when she pulled away, a line of saliva still attached to his cock connecting to her mouth. Yet, a moan erupts when Elli begins to softly tug at his penis, rubbing it up and down. "I want to ride you now…" Elli whispered, eyes intently watching Ivar's reactions, how he whined and ground his hips in search of release; it made wetness drip from her folds and onto the bed.

Clearing his throat, Ivar stared into her eyes. "Well, if you are sure, what are you waiting for?"

Without another word, Elli climbed on Ivar, her body moving up his thighs, causing Ivar to bite his lip as he felt her moistness drag against him. Pushing her hips flush against his, Elli began to grind, circling her hips back and forth, searching for friction. The pair mewled, pawing at each other as she guided his cock through her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal. As Elli ground on Ivar's cock, it nudged her clit every time, making her whimper and whine. The sound was intoxicating to Ivar. He reached up, gripping at her chest, tweaking one of her nipples and taking the other in his mouth, swirling his tongue.

Rasping, Elli reached down between them and grasped his dick, propping herself up and preparing to sink down on it. "Wait, wait..." Ivar whispered against her breast, holding her hips in place. "Are you sure?" Icy blue eyes peered up at her, a vulnerability in them that Elli had never seen before.

"Of course, I am sure." Elli declared as she sank down on Ivar's cock. Elli cried, for although she was wet and wanting, she had never been penetrated before, so an intense burning overtook her. However, Ivar had never felt something so tight, so warm wrapped around him. He wanted to thrust, chase that feeling, yet seeing tears leaking from Elli's eyes made him pause.

"No, no..." Ivar brushed the tears away, Elli sniffling as he grasped her face between his hands. He caressed her cheek, leaving kisses. "This will pass." He promised.

A watery chuckle left Elli. "And how do you know this?"

Smirking, Ivar trailed a hand up Elli's quivering thigh. "While you listen to women talk..." His hand etched closer to her sex, where he was still paused deep within her. "I listen to men talk."

A keening moan escaped her lips, high-pitched and breathless, as Ivar's thumb pressed on her clit. Rolling his fingers around, Elli quivered and squirmed. Slowly, Ivar moved his hips in time, matching her pace and never quicker. Soon, with patience and passion, the burn faded into a pleasurable stretch.

Elli pushed Ivar back onto the bed, removing his hand from her clit. Holding his shoulders, Elli began to bounce up and down, using his shoulders as an anchor to help her thighs, unsure with the new movement. The two friends locked eyes as Ivar lifted his glistening hand to his mouth, licking the moisture from in and around his fingers. Sighing, Ivar relished in the tangy taste, spurring him on and began to pound into her, grunting at the exertion and the feeling.

"Oh, Ivar," she whimpered, throwing her head back and exposing her glistening chest as she rocked her hips, chasing a feeling she had never felt before.

Ivar's hands kneaded her thighs, encouraging her to meet his fast pace as he pounded into her from below. "You're doing such a good job, Elli." He praised, grinding his throbbing erection deep inside her, loving how she mewled and bounced faster at his approval.

"Ivar, I– Ivar, I can't…" Her thighs burned, the steady up-and-down motion slowing as her legs trembled. She sobbed, her trembling fingers tracing her clammy abdomen and clutching her breasts, twisting her stiff nipples and whimpering.

Growling, Ivar released his bruising grip from the supple flesh of her hips. Grasping the back of her clammy neck, Ivar jerked her close, dragging their bare chests together as he latched onto the delicate skin of her throat, littering kisses and bruises. His cock slammed into her soaking core, squelching reverberating off the walls as Elli squealed. Her quivering arms collapsed, and she lay flat on Ivar, mumbling nonsense as Ivar huffed into her ear. "Fuck, you are such a good girl. Taking all of me so good," he babbled, licking a long stroke up her salty neck, his hips never slowing.  

Tears welled in Elli's eyes as she reached a shaking hand between their sticky bodies to rub her throbbing clit. Weeping in relief, Elli moved her slim fingers furiously, feeling something building in her lower belly, setting every nerve in her body on fire.

Eyes locked on Elli's movements, her fingers drumming fast and her wetness leaking onto his shaking thighs, Ivar groaned. Tilting his hips off the bed, Ivar ploughed into Elli, gripping her wild hair and forcing her lips on his, their tongues dancing. "fuck–fuck–FUCK IVAR!" Elli screamed, the coil that had built inside of her finally snapping. Her pussy tingled, gushing wetness all over Ivar's pounding cock. Collapsing on top of the young Prince, Elli saw stars, her body twitching in the aftermath. Feeling her completion, tugging, and milking Ivar's solid erection, Ivar roared, his seed coating her convulsing inner walls. Elli mewled at the feeling, her cunt squeezing him, draining him of every last drop.

Sticky and sweaty, the young pair struggled to catch their breath, huffing and puffing.

While Elli was dazed, her body still quivering with aftershocks, Ivar stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. His hands stroked up her saturated back as he struggled to find words. Blinking away tears, the prince gazed down at his only friend. Shaking his head, Ivar planted a solid kiss on the forehead, wrapping his arms around her. Sighing, Elli snuggled into his muscular arms.

"Told you." Elli croaked, her throat dry and voice muffled in Ivar's grip.

Ivar just laughed, throwing his head back against the pillows. "Yes, my not-so-innocent Elli, you were correct." Stroking her cheek, Ivar raised her droopy head and was greeted with a lazy smile. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

Giggling, Elli pouted her lips, too weak to lift herself up. Leaning down towards Elli, Ivar barely met her lips when the door was flung open, slamming against the wall with a bang! "OH MY FUCKING ODIN!" Hvitserk yelled, shirt torn open, and jaw dropped.

Not Today, My Prince

Ivar the Boneless x ofc

Word Count: 2222

Warnings: Mature language, sexual content

The raid was a complete success, and the festivities continued in Kattegat, with throngs of locals joining the Viking’s celebrations, trying to catch a glimpse of the victorious men. The music was booming, and the drinks flowed like liquid gold as Lottie sat with the Ragnarsson brothers, perched between Sigurd and Ubbe, while Ivar and Hvitserk sat across from them.

Lottie squealed, the atmosphere infecting her being. “What a raid, boys! The Ragnarsson name is truly becoming something of legend.” She praised, raising her mead in a toast.

The boys let out their cheers, raising their cups in agreement. As the men clinked their cups, Sigurd threw an arm around Lottie, alcohol and adrenaline pumping through his veins. “It was incredible out there! We could not be stopped!” He cried, his arm tightening around Lottie’s shoulders.

Lifting his drink to his mouth, Ivar froze as his icy eyes flickered to the action, taking a swig from his cup with a clenched jaw. “Yes, it was fucking incredible.” Ubbe and Hvitserk grinned at each other, sipping their drinks slowly.

Clearing his throat, Ubbe leant in close, encouraging the others to huddle in. “We would’ve been better if somebody could throw an axe,” Ubbe whispered with a smirk, peeking up at his brothers.

The group sniggered amongst themselves until Hvitserk paused. A frown on his face, he pushed Ubbe hard enough to knock him off his chair. “Oh, fuck off! My hand slipped!” Everyone laughed; even Ivar let out a chuckle as Ubbe dusted himself off the floor, shrugging with a smile.

Lottie’s laugh was contagious, a melody that echoed within your head, and Ivar couldn’t look away from her. Her eyes danced with flames and her smile glowed brighter than it. She was a sight to behold.

Noticing Ivar’s stare, Sigurd rolled his eyes. “You still chasing after my girl, Ivar?” he drawled, his speech slurred as he dropped his empty cup to the floor. Ivar snapped out of his daydream and glared at his smug brother.

Noticing the tension grow, Lottie shook Sigurd’s arm off her shoulders. “I’m not your girl anymore, Sigurd,” she reminded him, but he hummed.

The atmosphere became stiff, and the people around the group quietened, their attention focused on Ivar and Sigurd, who locked gazes, neither one prepared to back down. Abruptly, Sigurd chuckled to himself. “You’ve probably imagined fucking her before if what I’ve heard from your room has anything to do with it,” he sneered, laughter sounding from the onlookers. However, his brothers didn’t snigger, and neither did Lottie. They all knew that this would end poorly.

Shaking her head, Lottie downed her drink. “Sigurd, that’s enough,” Lottie warned, glancing at a trembling Ivar, his hands clenched on the table, his veins rising to the surface.

Sigurd ignored her, leaning across the table into Ivar’s face, his breath reeking of mead and meat. “Imagine her lying bare on the bed before you, dripping wet because she needs you so badly.”

Hvitserk placed a hand on Ivar’s shoulder, whispering pleas for him to remain calm in his ear. Yet, Ivar shook off the hand with a snarl. “You better stop, brother,” Ivar growled, his face flushed.

“Her moans echoing all around you as her tight, little pussy wraps around your throbbing cock… it’s pure heaven, I’ll tell you that.” The once giggling crowd had gone silent as Lottie stared at Sigurd in disbelief, shocked he would speak of her in such a way, especially since she was beside him. “But guess what, Ivar? You will never experience this for yourself, as someone like her would never go for a boneless cripple like you.” Sigurd scoffed, waving his arm in his youngest brother’s direction. “You can’t even get it to work anyway.”

Ivar launched himself out of his seat, only being pulled back by Hvitserk and Ubbe before he could wrap his hands around his older brother’s neck and squeeze the life from him. “Don’t you dare speak about her like that, you piece of fucking shit!”

Sigurd just laughed and stumbled away, collecting his empty cup off the floor and ignoring a screaming Ivar and a frustrated Lottie.

†

The obnoxious celebrations and sloshed partygoers were doing nothing for Lottie’s thumping headache. Sigurd was out of line with how he spoke to Ivar and talked about her. As much as she wanted to leave this place and forget this horrid night, she needed to make sure Ivar was okay.

Putting her ear to the closed door of Ivar’s room, and not hearing the tell-tale noises of swearing and smashing, Lottie knew it was safe to enter. Tip-toeing into the room, Lottie raised a brow as she found a shirtless Ivar perched on the end of his bed, head in his hands, tense and trembling.

Hearing her tentative footsteps, wide electric blue eyes met her concerned ones, his body slumping slightly. “Lottie, what are you doing in here?”

Lottie shrugged, a gentle smile decorating her face. “Thought that I would come and find you… talk to you about what happened out there.” She mumbled, twiddling her fingers as she watched the cripple stiffen again.

Ivar shook his head, a scowl on his lips. “It is not you who needs to worry about it. Sigurd was a prick; he should not have said that about you. Ever.” He spat, making Lottie giggle.

“No arguments from me.” She huffed, plopping down on the bed beside him, a creak echoing in the room.

The two stared ahead of them, saying nothing, until Ivar sighed, pushing his braids out of his face. He bit his lip, ripping the sensitive skin as his fingers drummed on the bed. “You know it’s true, right?” He whispered, staring at the flicking fire in the corner of his room as if the flames would engulf him at any moment.

The hairs on her neck stood tall as she raised an eyebrow, turning to look at the worried Prince. “What’s true?” Lottie questioned, her breath unsteady.

Ivar’s leg was twitching as he bounced it up and down, his eyes locked on the blaze, afraid to look at the woman beside him. “That I admire you…” He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Well, ‘admire’ is a weak term. I’m in love with you!” He rambled so fast Lottie could barely understand the maddening man.

“Slow down, Viking!” Lottie laughed, a hand landing on Ivar’s trembling leg, causing his eyes to widen. “But yes, I knew this was true.” She admitted, giving him a cheeky grin.

Ivar froze as if ice water had drenched him from head to toe. “For fuck sakes… seriously? It was that obvious?” He groaned, pulling the ends of his hair.

Lottie giggled. “Besides the fact that you stare at me anytime I am close, you have a guard ‘secretly’ supervise me at all times, and you slaughter any man that dares approach me… yes, Ivar, you are kind of obvious.” 

Lottie tilted her head, hair draping down her back as she observed the crestfallen Ragnarrson, who had thrown himself down on the bed beside her, covering his icy eyes. Besides the dull cheering ringing from behind the closed door, silence filled the room. Sitting up straight, Lottie cleared her throat. “So, if we’re spilling secrets, I should probably admit mine.”

Ivar refused to uncover his face. “You have a secret?” She hummed in reply, staring at Ivar with a grin he could not see. A harsh breath escaped him. “Well, what is it? It could not be more embarrassing than my ‘not-so-secret’ secret.” He snorted.

“I think you’re pretty cute.” The man shot straight up, wide saucers for eyes as he gazed at Lottie. She admitted, her grin becoming a broad smile at Ivar’s reaction.

“Are you fucking with me?” Ivar whispered, his jaw dropping low.

Laughing, Lottie shook her head. “No, I’m not fucking with you.” She stated, standing up in front of him, nudging his useless legs apart so she could position herself between them. Ivar choked on air. “I’ve thought you were pretty cute for a while now, but seeing you stand up to Sigurd, getting all angry…” She sighed, shaking her head. “It was sexy.”

She was entrancing him like she always had, but hearing Lottie confess her attraction for him aroused Ivar like nothing had before. His dreams were coming to life before his very eyes.

Her soft hands rested on his bare, shuddering shoulders, feeling them relax under her tender stroking. “And it turned me on…” She paused, contemplating as she stared into his foggy, blue eyes as if searching for an answer. “I want us to fuck, Ivar. I want you buried inside me while I scream your name.”

“Am I dreaming?” he whispered, gazing up as if Lottie was Freya, Goddess of Love and Death, preparing to claim him as her own.

Lottie straddled Ivar’s lap, pressing their bodies together, feeling their hearts beat in unison, hammering like Thor was striking them himself. “Not today, my Prince.”

She could feel his solid erection against her core, making her raise a brow as the rumours surrounding Ivar’s condition have always made her curious. Testing the waters, Lottie firmly ground her hips down in one smooth motion, making Ivar groan, throwing his head back with his eyes closed.

Suddenly, they snapped back open. The realisation that he could be aroused by a woman… by Lottie… was all-consuming. His lips began to tremble, and his jaw slackened. Ivar gazed at the smirking Lottie as if she held the sun and stars only for him. Letting out a deep huff, his hands gripped her hips as she continued her slow movements. “Fuck, Lottie.” He panted, pleasure overtaking all his senses as his head dropped against her stomach.

“Hey,” Lottie whispered, pulling his head back up. Ivar’s eyes were drooped in lust, pupils wholly dilated. “If I’m going to ride you, you will look at me while I do it.”

Ivar thrust up against her on instinct, her sultry words going straight to his throbbing dick.

Leaning down, Lottie placed her lips firmly on Ivar’s. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her flush against his bare chest, grinding up against her as he did. Lottie whined into his mouth, the dominant movement making wetness pool in her trousers. His hands roamed her thighs as their tongues swirled around each other. Lottie’s hands began to wonder, trailing down his broad frame to his cock, giving it a testing squeeze.

Ivar groaned, but pulled Lottie away, making her frown. “Okay, okay... We need to stop.” Ivar wheezed, his eyes avoiding hers as he looked to the ceiling.

Grabbing the Viking’s chin, Lottie stared Ivar dead in the eye. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She questioned, still huffing. “You are Ivar Lothbrok, correct? The man who’s been following me around like a puppy since we met?”

Ivar grumbled, lying back against the bed and covering his eyes. “I know, I know! This is literally my fucking wet dreams coming to life.” He growled, the noise going straight to her core.

Lottie’s thighs felt cold now without Ivar’s warm hands caressing her. “Then, what’s the issue here, Ivar?” She mumbled, confused beyond belief.  

Throwing his hands up in the air and slamming them down on the sheets, Ivar let out a yell. “Fucking Sigurd!”

Taken aback, Lottie rose an eyebrow at Ivar, her face forming a snarl. “Sigurd? Sigurd is why you won’t fuck me! Why are you even thinking about him when I’m straddling your hard-on? Desperate to fuck you!” She cried.

Ivar sat up on his forearms, a frown on his face as he looked at the girl of his dreams. “Because he has had you in ways I cannot, that I do not think I can.”

Lottie shook her head with a soft laugh, hair dangling before her eyes as her hands started to move over Ivar’s chest. “You are the object of my desire. You, your inner power, your fighting spirit is what I have craved for many years. I do not want, Sigurd. I want you.” She declared as Ivar’s hands unconsciously moved up her thighs again.

“Yes, but…”

Lottie cut him off. “No but’s.” Removing her hands from Ivar’s chest, Lottie moved up to her shirt, slipping it off her flushed skin. “Right now, it’s you and me.” Ivar was mesmerised once more as more of Lottie’s skin displayed. “There’s no Sigurd…” She whispered, throwing her shirt to the side, leaving her breasts bare before him, peaky nipples hard in the open air. “There’s no other Ragnarsson…” Ivar’s hands trailed up her warm stomach and cupped her chest, making her bite her lip. “It’s just you and me.”

Ivar nodded absently, his fingers circling her nipples as he held her breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently. “Just you and me.”

“That’s right, Lothbrok,” Lottie smirked, reaching beneath her and stroking his erect member. “So, are we going to talk about Sigurd, or are you going to fuck me?” She squeezed him, locking eyes with Ivar, who was struggling to maintain eye contact with her bare breasts in front of his face.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that the only man’s name you’ll ever be able to say is Ivar.”

The Pale Moonlight

Ivar the Boneless x ofc

Word Count: 875

Warnings: None

Laughter echoed in the distance as the men celebrated their latest battle, drinking mead and singing songs. The gleaming fire caused a dim glow to settle over the forest, illuminating the dancing shadows.

Sitting on an old tree stump, Ivar stared out into the forest, eyes hazy and shoulders hunched over in thought. Yet, his ears perked up, hearing the snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves. Glancing over his shoulder, he sat up straight as the cause of his headache appeared.

“What is wrong, young prince? Didn’t kill enough Christians for your liking?” Selene teased, a smile gracing her face as she leant against one of the many trees surrounding them.

Ivar chuckled, his head bowed low. “For a girl who criticises my love for bloodshed, you seem to enjoy making jokes about it.” His electric eyes lifted, a smirk decorating his face.

Selene scoffed, a hand waving away his response as she plopped down beside him. “I do not condone it, but if it makes you happy and stops you from injuring unsuspecting locals, who am I to complain?” She peered up at him, a twinkle in her eyes.

Ivar gave no reply, his smirk shifting into a frown. He just stared at her, unsure and unprepared.

Selene’s smile fell. “What is wrong?”

The Boneless grit his teeth, a hiss escaping. Rolling his head on his shoulders, he tried to shake off the fire in his veins as he looked away from her, unable to gaze into her shining eyes no longer.

Panic flared in Selene as she moved onto her knees, observing Ivar’s shaking form, tentatively touching his legs, “Have you injured yourself? Fallen off your horse? What is it?” She rambled, unaware that his piercing stare had returned to her.

“I want to choke the life from you.” He whispered. Selene stopped her movements, her mouth becoming dry as she slowly met his eyes, unconsciously leaning away from her friend. “I want you to understand how it feels to be afraid…” Ivar licked his lips, “Because this is how I feel whenever you are around.”

It was as if the only sounds to be heard in the forest were the quiet squawking of ravens, the distant celebrations, and the racing of teenage hearts.

“Ivar…” Selene trailed off, her gleaming eyes blown wide in the moonlight. “What do you mean?”

Ivar swallowed, the noise echoing within the forest. “You have…” his electric blue eyes avoided her, staring into the starry night sky. “Consumed my every thought. When you are away from me, I am concerned about your safety, your feelings. Has somebody harmed you? Made you cry?” His eyebrows furrowed and fists clenched by his sides. Selene could not speak. Her glistening eyes tracked Ivar’s frantic movements. “And when you are near me, it is worse! I cannot speak, for I fear that if I do, I will say the wrong thing, and you will leave!” He yelled, causing Selene to flinch. “See! I have done it already!” Ivar cried, lifting himself off the stump and beginning to crawl away.

Selene stumbled to her feet, tripping over loose leaves and sticks. “Ivar! Please!” She shouted. “You have not let me speak!” Ivar continued to ignore her, slithering into the shadows. “What if I told you I wanted to choke you too?” She called.

Ivar froze, wide eyes turning to face Selene with raised brows.

Selene’s face crinkled, her lips pursed. “Okay, that is not what I meant to say at all...” She sighed. Shrugging, she stepped closer to Ivar, slowly as if trying not to spook him. “I am afraid for you too. When you are on the battlefield, I cannot sit still! What if you have fallen off your chariot? Or even been killed? I just have to sit here and wait like some silly twit, waiting for you to return!” Selene had stopped looking at Ivar and was pacing. Now that her thoughts were in the open, she could not stop them. “And even when you aren’t on the battlefield, you concern me! What if it is too cold and your bones hurt? Or you are in pain and need silly jokes to lighten the mood?” Selene paused, staring at grey moon, seeking guidance. “But, how do I tell you I love you without losing you?”

Selene screamed; her body knocked to the dewy forest floor. Ivar hovered above her, breathing heavy and blue eyes glimmering. Odin had frozen time as the young pair gazed at each other, peering into the soul of the other. Ivar inched downwards, slow and uncertain. 

Rolling her eyes, Selene gripped the back of Ivar’s head and smashed their lips together. Their lips moved like two people dancing together for the first time, unpractised yet passionate. His arms ran up and down her sides as she played with his hair. It was not perfect, but it was right.

Pulling away with a huff, Ivar whispered, “I do not really wish to choke you.”

Selene nodded absentmindedly, staring at Ivar’s lips. “Good. Let’s just start with holding hands. Your odd kinks can come in later, hmm?” She grinned. Ivar shook his head with a chuckle, leaning back down to reclaim her lips in the pale moonlight.