Genre: Comfort / Angst
Words: ± 1 800
Everyone can feel the weight of the last events on their shoulders. Mainly Ivar, but he won't be able to handle it if (y/n)'s also angry at him.
⟐ A poisoned mind | Ivar The Boneless x Reader
Genre: Comfort / Fluff
Words: ± 2 000
(Y/n) can't help but to wonder whether Ivar really trusts them, what they don't know it's that everything is just a matter of insecurity.
⟐ I miss you (1/2) | Ivar The Boneless x Reader
Genre: Comfort / Fluff / Light angst
Words: ± 4 400
You had always been Ivar's right hand, but something happened, so now you are in the hands of Prince Oleg. Oleg, however, brings you a little gift after one of his trips.
⟐ I miss you (2/2) | Ivar The Boneless x Reader
Genre: Comfort / Fluff / Light angst
Words: ± 3 000
"Elhaz wasn’t my name, in the first place. It was for me what ‘Boneless’ is for Ivar, a title, one that was given to me by Ivar since, in his words, I’m his protection, the one who makes everything feel sacred, the safety. His safety. Eventually, it was all that really mattered, and turned into what some people call me. Does he remember it?"
⟐ Clean your mind | Ivar The Boneless x Male Reader | Ivar The Boneless x amab Reader
Genre: Smut / Comfort
Words: ± 3 100
Kind of content: Fingering / Anal sex / Some praising
You help Ivar clean his mind and let go of all the stress that bothers him lately.
⟐ Be patient | Ivar The Boneless x Male Reader | Ivar The Boneless x amab Reader
Genre: Smut Mordern! AU
Words: ± 3 100
Kind of content: Toys / Anal sex / Edging
Ivar needs to be taught a lesson.
⟐ Time and humility | Ivar The Boneless x Reader
Genre: Comfort / Fluff
Words: ± 1 600
A curse leaded to Ivar being turned into a half-cat person, which he doesn't really knows how to deal with nor does his partner, but they figure it out despite how stubborn Ivar can be.
⟐ What's the fun in that? | Ivar The Boneless x Reader
Genre: Comfort / Light angst
Words: ± 3 800
Ivar is captured by Oleg. (Y/n), the Rus army commander, is both interested and interesting.
⟐ A nice punishment | Ivar The Boneless x [gender neutral] Reader
Genre: Smut / Comfort
Words: ± 2 100
Kind of content: Oral fixation / Nipple play
Playing with his chest does get Ivar to shut up for a little. It feels way better than it should.
╚═════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════╝
You may find some of my works in AO3 with light alterations since I post there using an OC instead of reader. Except for that, my works aren't published anywhere else nor here under a different user. Let me know if you see something off.
Ivar The Boneless x [gender neutral] Reader
Genre: Smut / Comfort
Words: ± 2 100
Kind of content: Oral fixation / Nipple play
Playing with his chest does get Ivar to shut up for a little. It feels way better than it should.
Not proofread! Sorry for any mistake!
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
“How many times do I have to tell you?” You sighed as your hands ran across his warm back, feeling every muscle and the bump of every scar under your fingertips. That was something you had done so many times already that you almost memorized his whole back, always knowing if there was any new scar, as small as it could be.
Ivar scoffed, his back vibrating with each word. “And what do you want me to do? Simply not go anywhere? Just sit here like your little doll, is it?” Of course he would be dramatic, twist your words just so you could feel guilty and let him do whatever he wanted, but you already had a resistance to his whining just like Ubbe and Hvitserk, even if it wasn’t as strong. Dealing with Ivar wasn’t any new to you; you were there long before Ragnar returned, then with him when Ragnar came back and took him to England, helped avenge his father’s death, and now dominate York.
The flames from the torches hanging from the stone walls illuminated the room. Ivar had taken over the cathedral so he could establish his base, and used one of the main rooms—probably the bishop's—for himself. It was wide, rather luxurious, as a noble's place. In the first days, you would just hang around the room, but with how he kept asking you to help him with massages or undoing his braces until late at night, now it was also yours.
Today was something like this. A long day of unnecessary efforts and blueish eyes by the morning had Ivar’s muscles protesting in pain, so you were there once again, your hands rubbing oil against his rough skin in an attempt to help him despite all the complaints. He did appreciate what you were doing, though. You knew it was some sort of facade because, even between four walls and a closed door, Ivar still had to keep his goddamn posture at least in a few points to ‘keep you humble’. As if you couldn’t shape him exactly the way you wanted, just like Ubbe would do with his younger brothers sometimes.
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” you chuckled against his skin and pressed a kiss to the back of his ear. “My pretty little doll, all for me to use, hm?”
Ivar was silent for a moment, choking on his own words to the same level his cheeks heated up, just seconds before he was turning around and throwing his hands in the air. “What do you think you’re saying? I’m going to feed you flaming hot iron if you keep it like this!”
Another chuckle escaped your lips as you pushed him to face forward again. “And what?” You pulled him against you so his back met your chest instead. “Lose your best warrior? Best strategist? I don’t think you could handle even a day without me, knowing I’m not coming back,” you mumbled, chin over his shoulder and arms under his whilst watching your hands work against his ribs, slowly going up.
Whatever was going on in Ivar’s mind, vanished at the moment your hands started running over his chest. Instead, there were only quiet and incoherent grumbles that you could barely make out. “(Y/n), what...” His words trailed off, breath caught in his throat—he tried to fight against the will to arch his back at the feeling of your fingers tracing his nipples, running around them until they were hard. "Wh..."
"I'm just doing the massage you asked for," you scoffed, hands going down his torso just to come up and stop right under his pecs, proceeding to go up slowly. Ivar hissed at the friction as he arched his back; his hands tugged a little on the sheets before they found their way to your thighs, hence his nails sank into the skin messily in an attempt to both ground himself and warn you. Fruitlessly, of course. "How was your day, Ivar? You just mentioned why you're in so much pain, but never really told me what happened while I was gone.”
“Quit playing.”
“I asked you a question.” The weight in your voice had him shutting up for a moment, though the silence was quickly broken by a moan. Your fingers pinched his nipple, and it shouldn’t feel so good.
Ivar sucked in a breath, at first just spitting out stutters until the way you squeezed his pec had him speaking. “I—I was training, but then got... got in a fight.”
Got in a fight? You clicked your tongue. “Ivar. You woke up with blue-ish eyes, why would you even do that?” It was entertaining to watch how sensitive he was, slowly starting to squirm just because of his chest being fondled.
An indignant gasp came from Ivar, but he paused for a moment; his head leaned back against your shoulder for a moment while his hand adjusted against your thigh. “No...! I couldn’t let that happen! H—He was challenging me! Provoking!” His voice cracked once you pinched his nipple, playing with it between your index finger and your thumb, daring to give it an experimental tug. A louder gasp escaped his lips, back arched against you.
Oh, the old discourse about how a cripple can’t rule properly, you thought. It was already getting annoying to deal with.
“Of course, you ignored everything,” you mumbled, continuing to pinch his nipple, though now also doing the same to the other, and it was enough to start reducing him to pieces—the already uneven breathing lost its pace completely while his fingers trying to grip onto your skin however they could, almost having him throw his hips in the air in search for friction. “and grabbed your little sword so you’d kill the poor man.”
“Not a poor man!” Ivar growled. “He dared to doubt... of one of the sons...” He never finished his sentence, words lost into the dark corners of the room once you let go of him so you could get off your position. “Hey! What are you doing?” The blue irises were nothing but thin rings around the dilated pupils that observed you in desire.
Your chuckle had his eyebrows lowering, mouth pursing. “I thought you didn’t like it?” You raised an eyebrow, moving around until you straddled his thighs, pushing him back against the pillows. Whatever answer he had on the tip of his tongue, it died down with the way you parted his legs with a knee, carefully, instead earning yourself a glare, but it would take a lot more to discourage you. His hips were warm under your hands as you held onto them while leaning down to press kisses to his neck, sometimes nibbling on the skin. “You complain so much, sometimes I don’t know whether it’s real or not. How do you feel being so annoying?”
“I think that you should shut the fuck up before getting yourself killed.” Empty words, of course. Ivar liked the teasing, if anything. In contrast to his words, his arms wrapped around your shoulders at the same time he threw his head back into the pillows to grant you more access.
You breathed a chuckle against his skin, feeling it rise with a shiver according to how you trailed down. “Oh, honey, you still insist on tricking yourself that you can live without me? Pitiful.”
It was fun to tease Ivar then silence him, watch the frustration build up in groans and quiet complaints, his nails sometimes pressing into your skin a little too hard. He was once again silenced, letting out a hum instead at how your lips worked on a spot some inches down his collarbones, sucking and nibbling on the skin until a purple spot was left behind. You knew he had some sort of sensitivity when it came to his chest, but you never knew it was that great until you decided to start exploring it that night; it probably was greater that time, given how long he had gone without being touched like that.
The way he shuddered and breathed shakily just because of how your tongue ran flat over his nipple was truly rewarding. You did it once more, this time snatching a moan that extended itself by how his crotch found a nice source of friction when meeting your thigh on the way once it pushed up. Your grip on his hips didn’t really prevent him from moving, more of guiding his movements and limiting his freedom.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you came untouched,” you mention. You could taste the light herbal taste of the oil on your tongue—it wasn’t bad, actually.
Ivar clicked his tongue, glancing down at you with a glare that would’ve made anyone else start praying for their life, but not you. Never you. That look didn’t give you anything more than entertainment. “Do you wish to die?”
“To kill you would be fun, actually.” A grin tugged on your lips, easily having Ivar more flustered. He wasn’t in position to criticize anything anymore, nor had enough coherent thoughts for it; he just turned his head away instead.
At first, soft kisses surrounded his nipple, soon being replaced by your teeth softly tugging on the skin, and there it was—whines spilled from his mouth with every nib until he clasped a hand over his own mouth in an attempt to muffle his sounds. It had you pausing, taking a moment to observe his messy form. Sweat had some of his hair strands stuck to his forehead, skin already flush and glistening softly under the dancing light of the flames. His chest heaved up and down with the deep sharp inhales.
The lack of interaction had Ivar’s eyes slowly turning to look at you, and that fucking deathly gaze had something stirring in your lower stomach.
“I wanna hear you,” you finally said, pressing a kiss to his fingers before you started to tug his hand away from his face, finally kissing his lips instead. His hands somehow felt in the way of something, something he didn’t know, but it still didn’t really feel right to just grip onto the sheets while you worked on him. He whined softly against your lips, kissing back with little care because all that mattered was how good you treated him, nibbling on his lips and letting your tongue meet his.
His back started arching once you started trailing down his neck once again, this time starting to nibble on the area around his nipple right away, this time working on the opposite one, with your hands back around his hips, tightly. “Fuck,” he whispered softly, voice tight in his throat, soon replaced by a moan. Your lips wrapped around his nipple to suck softly on it until he was arching his back and fighting against your hands, so you’d change to running your tongue flat against the nub instead.
It was slow and agonizing. Every single time the feeling would start to take over Ivar, erase the thoughts away from his head and have his eyes rolling back, you were there to pull him down, ground him again. Ivar crashed back into reality with quiet complaints and groans that only motivated you to continue, even if your lips would be left sore later. Then, there it was, finally. This time, you weren’t pulling away at the moment his hips started pushing up; you continued to suck on his nipple, even letting your teeth tug on it, and he wasn’t even that restrained anymore, with one of your hands letting go of him to instead fondle with the opposite side of his chest.
A string of curses escaped Ivar’s lips, though soon interrupted by the lack of air in his lungs, his teeth gritted and eyes pressed shut. His hips dragged slowly against your thigh, sending sparkles up his body and down again, right to his lower stomach. His shorter breaths had each time more space between them, as if just breathing would drive his focus away from his release, but then, there it was; a long moan was drawn from his lips at the same moment he finally came. As much as you wanted to see the face he was making, it seemed more of an advantage to continue messing with him until he was squirming, on the edge of oversensitivity.
You pressed a kiss to the bright red skin before you finally brought yourself up to look at him. He had his eyes shut, mouth moving lightly in inaudible mumbles to himself until he opened one eye lazily to observe you.
“You good, love?”
Ivar nodded lightly. “Do you need me to...?”
“No, no.” You shook your head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “For the gods, Ivar,” you chuckled, “look at you. Came untouched, in your pants!” And just a few words had the haze that took over him fading away, replaced by his usual annoyance, curses and threats that escaped his lips seemingly unstoppingly.
➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.
➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”
➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”
➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”
➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”
➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.
“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.
“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”
➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”
➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”
However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!
➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.
If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)
➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“
“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.
➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.
➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”
➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.
“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”
➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.
“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”
Ivar The Boneless x Reader
Genre: Comfort / Light angst
Words: ± 3 800
NOT proofread
Ivar is captured by Oleg. (Y/n), the Rus' army commander, is both interested and interesting.
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
“Are you a devotee of Odin or a Christian?” The heavily accented voice cut through the atmosphere and put ground under (Y/n)’s feet again, making the heavy presence in the corner of the room known. (Y/n) silently turned around to glance at the viking that stood in the training area with a grin tugging on his lips, reflecting an entertainment that he only allowed to demonstrate whenever he was around them.
The training yard (Y/n) preferred to use was near a stable—it was covered from the sun or the snow and gave them the privacy they wanted to hit the log and targets as much as they wanted to.
A heavy puff of air escaped (Y/n)’s flush lips as they ran a hand through their hair. Sometimes Ivar caught himself lost in observing (Y/n)—the way their skin was littered with scars in some areas, telling stories he didn't know, in an opposite to the rough sunburnt skin of the Vikings. Even Oleg’s skin was thinner than the Norwegians’, but (Y/n) commanded the army. They were Rus’ main warrior.
“Does it matter to you?” (Y/n) carefully put their sword back on its scabbard that hung from their waist, walking past Ivar to serve themself a glass of the water jar that sat on the barrel in the corner.
Ivar ducked his head, shrugging a little, as he turned around slowly to face (Y/n). “I don’t think I have enough power to demand something from you. I am just curious. ‘Never seen you pray.” He blinked under the intense gaze of their eyes and let himself observe them once again—(Y/n) was wearing one of their most basic armors, a gray one, but it didn’t hide the warrior’s elegance and high rank, with all the embroidering and details that decorated their shoulders and chest.
“A person’s faith matters only to them,” (Y/n) said, leaving the now empty cup where it once was. They returned Ivar’s mannerism, eyeing him from head to toe without bothering to hide their curiosity. “Why are you here?”
Ivar almost chuckled, humming instead. He looked around until dropping himself on a bench—a sigh of relief escaped his lips whilst he let his crutches rest together against the wall, next to him. “Well, I like being around people who don’t treat me like an animal, and Igor went for a walk with Oleg or something. Y’know, it can be tiring, and Oleg seems to have a certain liking for me.” He raised his eyebrows lightly. He didn’t expect (Y/n) to react. Of course not, they were faithful and fair; Ivar never heard them talking bad about an enemy, even. “I remembered when you mentioned your training schedule, so I thought I would come... see you...” He shrugged.
Silence took over, thickly, only interrupted by the voices of other soldiers talking in the distance and the horses snorting in the background.
“It’s not allowed, Ivar.”
“Oh?” He snickered, teeth catching on his bottom lip for a moment. “Since when do you care about rules or anything? Y’know, I caught you going against Oleg’s orders when—”
“It’s dangerous.”
Ivar pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “Nothing is dangerous to you. You could overthrow Oleg if you wanted.”
This time, (Y/n) was the one to laugh. “I’m not saying I’m the one in danger.”
A breath was caught in the Viking’s throat, compelling him to stop in the middle of the argument and look at the ground in a defeat that was laced with pure amusement. In some way, it was a cure to the chronic boredom that pestered him since Oleg had decided to keep him captive, but it also stirred him up in other ways. How much did Oleg’s right hand hate him? How far could he get against Oleg until he was noticed? Or would he win? By chance?
Reality swallowed Ivar again at the strong feeling of fingers sinking into his jaw to tug his head up. “That’s why you keep getting yourself into problems. Never thought of deciding to keep everything in order?” (Y/n)’s breath fanned over his ear, making a shiver run down his spine as his fingers tightened around the edge of the bench.
“And what would be the fun in that?”
.
(Y/n) blinked slowly as they observed Oleg and Katya from across the table, with boredom clear in their half-lidded eyes, struggling to keep their attention on Oleg's specifications for a war strategy request while he insisted on exchanging affection with Katya.
"Reaching them through the woods would be the best. Do you wish for any other details?" Oleg smiled, never stopping caressing Katya's hand that rested between his.
Shaking their head shortly, (Y/n) hummed as they looked around. Their fingers traced the details of their golden cup of wine, following among the images of saints and crosses embedded with stones. "About 5000 men might do it? For a beginning, I mean, to prepare the area for a battle."
"Of the best?"
(Y/n) scoffed. "Something under the third general's power."
Oleg raised his eyebrows with a hum, his eyes resting on a spot on the table for a moment before he slowly nodded. "Ivar?" He called—the Viking promptly looked up from his food. "Any opinion that might help?"
"Nothing that I haven't told (Y/n) already." He nodded toward the warrior.
A chuckle came from the Rus prince as he nodded. "Right. Glad to see two great war leaders working together."
(Y/n) breathed a chuckle, almost humorless, something Ivar couldn't quite read, in an opposite to Oleg—his eyes lingered over (Y/n) before he returned to his food.
The rest of the meal was animated by Oleg and Katya's constant comments that would leave (Y/n) eyeing the two nobles in disdain or pretending they didn't exist, something Ivar hadn't quite mastered yet. Plus, that, well, he wasn't as important as (Y/n) to have such freedom with the two. A comment that would earn (Y/n) a snicker maybe could cost Ivar’s life.
Time dragged by slowly until Oleg finally declared he had finished and ordered the servants to take his plate, but he never stopped talking with (Y/n). Ivar could feel the anxiety crawling under his skin the more he tried to invent excuses, so he would leave along with (Y/n). He could feel the words tingling in his throat, '(Y/n), can you follow me? I think you'd like to know more about Kattegat's defense,' he almost said. Did Oleg know? Was he doing this on purpose?
"If you were cornered in a battle," (Y/n) said as they approached Ivar, slowly walking towards the stairs to the next floor to make sure the Viking followed them, "what would you do?"
Ivar shrugged messily, not having much freedom due to focusing on climbing up the stairs. It took him a moment to answer, only doing so when they were near the end of the stairs. "Depends, but I think a shield wall until getting the situation under control would be the best. In a case, of course, because if—"
"You can shut up for now," (Y/n) yawned, seemingly oblivious to the glare they got from Ivar. Still, the Viking remained silent, letting only the sound of the flames burning in their holders on the wall, and their steps resonate down the hall. Ivar’s crutches created sharp noises as they met the ground, but it was something (Y/n) had learned to get used to.
With Igor still being in the lower floor, the concentration of guards on that one dropped significantly. (Y/n) didn't even bother rushing Ivar into their room, standing beside the doorway until he walked in so they could follow.
(Y/n)’s room was something like Oleg's and Igor's, but with their own touch, mainly on the rich golden and red tones of the bed covers. What seemed like repaired swords hung from the walls while a couple of paintings decorated the walls—a reminder of victories and defeats. Ivar couldn't help but always look for a cross or an image of Odin, maybe even Thor, on the wall; however, he never found anything. Maybe the crosses on their armor would mean anything.
A long sigh of comfort escaped Ivar's lips as he let himself fall on the bed, firstly sitting down on it and letting his crutches fall to the ground, then lying back on the cushion. He seemed tired.
The sight was enough to have a smile tug on their lips whilst (Y/n) locked the door. They internally debated whether they could say anything or not, just to decide to remain silent while taking off the heavy winter clothes until their thin tunic was all that rested.
(Y/n) couldn't deny it, though—resting on such comfortable covers felt like heaven after a long day.
"C'mon." They poked Ivar with their foot.
Ivar got up to get rid of his shoes and most of his clothes, only keeping his bottoms, but not without complaining during the whole process. The groans turned into a soft hum as (Y/n)'s arms wrapped around him at the moment his head hit the pillow.
The feeling of (Y/n)'s lips running against his cheekbone had his skin rising with a shiver as he leaned into their embrace, hands closed around their arms.
"I would pay to have Oleg quiet for at least a meal," Ivar said quietly like the slightest wrong detail would ruin the situation, following (Y/n) with his eyes as they propped themself up on an elbow. It had been a matter of seconds until the room attained the most comfortable atmosphere in the world. It was warm and filled with something he couldn't quite place. He allowed himself to close his eyes, enjoying the safety he felt even if it wasn't genuine. How was he supposed to fight against the sensation of (Y/n)'s fingers delicately undoing the braids that held his hair?
A soft chuckle came from (Y/n), quiet and almost humorless. "You don’t know how much I relate to it."
Ivar smiled, sighing deeply at the feeling of the tip of (Y/n)'s fingers pressing down against his scalp, on the back of his neck. He instinctively leaned into where he thought they were, humming in satisfaction at the feeling of warm lips meeting his. (Y/n)’s kisses were soft, awakening a feeling in Ivar’s chest that was difficult to explain—it felt too good to be worried about, what bad could it cause?
The kisses got each time deeper as if they were seeking something, maybe wanting something from Ivar, which he was willing to give. A sigh escaped his lips when (Y/n) finally gave him a few seconds to breathe, only to drown him in kisses once again, holding firmly onto his hip.
His eyes fluttered as Ivar threw his head back, mumbling words that (Y/n) couldn't really make out while their lips worked on their neck.
The safety Ivar felt, unfortunately, didn't extend itself to everything. It wasn't even voluntary—his body just jumped at the moment (Y/n) adjusted their fingers around his hip.
"Shhh, I know," they whispered against Ivar’s lips, almost making him want to curl up and die.
.
The way (Y/n)’s warmth towards Ivar would turn into plain coldness whenever they weren't alone together would always amuse him. He almost caught himself questioning whether the last night was true or not whenever (Y/n)'s eyes would linger over his form with a disdain that always got Oleg smiling smugly.
In a way, Ivar hated the position he was automatically forced into at the moment Oleg showed interest in him. Rus wasn't a country he was used to, and he still didn’t have a complete notion of his boundaries there despite already being there for a few months. Something about all of that messed up with him. He looked forward to slipping into (Y/n)’s bedroom; in their presence he felt... something else. It wasn't like being back in Kattegat or with his family, but it was something he could hold onto, like a guarantee he would get out of that alive. Of course, it was something dumb to think about—(Y/n) didn't have any obligation with him or major interests aside from the ones he had sought with them himself, which still weren't that significant.
"Have you ever been to Scandinavia?" Ivar raised an eyebrow at (Y/n); they hummed questioningly, compelling him to repeat himself.
(Y/n) raised their eyebrows, shaking their head. "Not really, not in a while."
Ivar paused for a moment to observe (Y/n) cleaning the blade of their sword, which had already mercilessly impaled a Viking earlier once they found a place to settle down in Scandinavia. The Rus settlements weren't much different from the Viking and Saxon ones, but still had their differences, differences that were fun to watch while he wasn’t busy tolerating Oleg or observing (Y/n).
“In a while...” He repeated.
No response came from (Y/n) for a while, almost like they didn’t hear his question, only continuously rubbing the bloody rag over the silver blade until it was shining again. (Y/n) went through a quiet debate in their mind whether they should or not tell Ivar about that—not because Oleg could find an issue in it, no, but because they didn’t know how much they wanted Ivar to know about their life. “Since the last battle.”
“For who?” Ivar wasn’t dumb, and Oleg did mention it was his first time putting his plans of invading Scandinavia into practice.
(Y/n) paused under the gaze that burned against the side of their head, pressing their lips together for a moment. “I’m Rusian, but I didn’t spend my whole life here.”
It made sense, of course. (Y/n) didn’t fight like a Saxon, though it wasn’t like a Viking either—it was something in between.
“How did you get to be the army’s commandant, though?” Ivar tilted his head a little. “I don’t...” He paused, thinking whether he should say it or not. (Y/n) wasn’t someone he wanted as an enemy. “You don’t seem like a Rus noble.”
A smile tugged on the corner of (Y/n)’s lips as they hummed. “Yes, because I’m not.” They put their sword inside its holder again, setting it aside on the ground along with their other stuff. “But it isn’t like Oleg found me in the trash either.” The humor that played among their features wasn’t exactly genuine, so Ivar didn’t dare to mess with the matter any further. They knew (Y/n) had enough knowledge of his bad past and not enough mercy to refrain themself from dropping sharp words whenever needed. They didn’t owe him any kindness, but Ivar still had some sense of self preservation. And will to take risks.
“Of course not,” he scoffed. “Something like you.”
A crease showed up between (Y/n)’s eyebrows as they breathed a laugh, shaking their head. “If I were you,” they whispered as leaning closer to the Viking, “I’d be a little more careful.”
Ivar raised his eyebrows in a light questioning manner, almost daringly, but whatever (Y/n) planned to do while staring at him with narrowed eyes was interrupted at the moment they heard Oleg’s voice.
“I hope there is no fight going on!” Oleg announced over the sound of his heavy steps and Katya's delicate ones, having (Y/n) immediately stand up whilst Ivar straightened his posture. “I wouldn’t like to see my great war leaders on bad terms with each other. It would affect our plans immensely, and I hope you’re aware of it.”
“You’re the only one I bother fighting with,” (Y/n) replied with such disdain that Ivar had to hold back a chuckle.
Oleg raised his eyebrows, shaking his head, about to say something when Katya cut in; she held onto her husband's arm, stroking it lightly. "Well, maybe they weren't fighting." A small smile played on her lips as she glanced at (Y/n) from under her lashes.
Breathing deeply, they hummed quietly. "I'm afraid you, Mistress, don't know me well enough."
Katya gave the warrior a light raise of eyebrows, slowly nodding, but (Y/n) doubted she believed a thing. It wasn't like they should care, though something about this situation had a chill running down their spine, a feeling among the urge of pulling Ivar away from Katya's view. After all, of course (Y/n) would get attached to Ivar at some point. It was almost like keeping a little pet if Oleg also weren't so protective of the prize that fell into his hands.
"Anyways," Oleg cut in, "I'm here to tell you we should send at least a couple of men forward tonight to analyze the area before we attack tomorrow."
(Y/n) seemed to think for a moment before they nodded with a sigh and took their scabbard, setting it around their waist. "Let's go."
Night fell fast. It wasn't long until the warm night meal had settled down in their stomachs and the only illumination across the field was of dancing flames under the starry sky of a new moon. One of (Y/n)'s direct subordinates took care of the expedition into the outskirts of Kattegat, excusing themself with the need of a full night of sleep that instead meant, secretly, having the viking slip into their tent.
Ivar lay down among the pillows with a smile on his face as he watched the warrior make sure their weapons were all placed in strategic places, just in case. They didn't know how unaware of their attack that the Vikings were. (Y/n) sighed, organizing in the corner, just like their own, the clothes Ivar had tossed to the ground.
"Undo my braids," he said softly, eyes following (Y/n) climb on the bed and hover over him. He blinked a couple of times, fingers curled around the edge of the covers that went up to his bare abdomen until they were pulled down by another pair of hands that soon started to trace Ivar’s chest. The feathery touch of (Y/n)'s fingers against the tattoo on his chest made him shiver, slowly letting out a breath that almost got caught in his throat. Soon, their hands met the base of his jaw, carefully holding his head up to press their lips against his whilst slowly and thoroughly letting themself sit down on his lap, encouraged by his hands guiding their hips.
"Be careful tomorrow," (Y/n) whispered against his lips, letting their fingers trace his jaw and dip to the back of his neck to play with the loose strands of hair.
Ivar hesitated a little, but scoffed. "Why do you care?"
Putting it into words seemed harder than piercing a sword through a man's chest. (Y/n) decided to remain silent, closing their eyes briefly as they slowly shook their head. Whatever Ivar tried to say was silenced by another kiss, which he quietly protested about with a soft groan, and the issue slowly fell into the back of his mind.
A shaky breath escaped Ivar's lips, followed by a soft noise according to how (Y/n) kissed down his neck, a hand pressed to his chest.
"(Y/n)!" A heavy voice called, belonging to none of the two. It had (Y/n) sighing and complaining under their breath—they gave Ivar a last kiss before moving away. Hiding their displeasure wasn't anything they even bothered doing, moving to the entrance of the tent and observing the soldier standing there. "Soldiers have been sent to the recognition. Prince Oleg wants to know if you've seen..." He paused, taking a step to the side as if to see something over (Y/n)’s shoulder, just to have his view blocked by them. "If you've seen Ivar Lothbrok."
"He was going for a walk the last time I saw him." (Y/n) rubbed their face, letting out a heavy breath. "Why me, tho? Send someone after him, if he's so worried, not to mention it wouldn't be the first time or anything. Ivar knows he would be killed on sight if anyone from Kattegat showed up."
The soldier's eyes peeked over their shoulder again, but his breath was caught in his throat at the sharp gaze he met. With a quick bow and some rushed words, he returned to where he had come from, the metal of the armor filling the silence of the night along with the cracking of the torches.
"What was that?" Ivar asked at the moment (Y/n) walked back in. He now sat on the bed with the blankets pooled around his hips, curious eyes following the warrior.
"Oleg. Nothing important, though," they sighed, sitting behind Ivar on the bed so they could undo his braids as asked.
"I heard my name."
"Oleg noticed you weren't in your tent."
Ivar hummed, thinking for a moment about it, but opted for falling silent as he closed his eyes briefly and leaned his head back into (Y/n)’s fingers. He would deal with that later. It wasn’t like Oleg would want to do anything right before the war and risk an inside collapse—he was crazy, but not dumb.
A soft sound was snatched from Ivar’s lips, having him open his eyes and tense up at the feeling of lips nudging under his jaw at the same time (Y/n)’s hands trailed up his chest.
.
“I hear you’re not following orders,” Oleg’s voice was tense and almost caught in his throat as he spoke without looking away from the battle that started before him. Not Ivar, not (Y/n), not Oleg himself, none of them were being risked in an invasion like this. (Y/n) stood in the backline along with the Prince whilst the Viking had disappeared to God knows where—genuinely, this time.
(Y/n)’s expression didn’t change a little bit; Oleg would’ve thought they didn’t listen to him if he didn’t know them any better. “I’m not crossing any line, as far as I know. Not disturbing this war in any manner nor lacking respect with Your Highness and Her Highness, Katya.”
Oleg huffed a discreet chuckle. “You know really well what I am talking about.”
“I’m not a slave.” (Y/n)’s eyes observed the ongoing invasion. It wasn’t that easy; they had warned Oleg, just to be ignored and force to used a strategy that was clearly not working well at all. The Russian way of fighting wasn’t prepared for the hostile Viking way they found in Bjorn’s hold. “I expect not to be treated as one anymore.”
“We have an agreement, dear.”
“And it includes me not being a slave anymore,” they sighed. “I’m not one of your mistresses either.”
“God knows what that Viking can put in your mind,” Oleg muttered as he slowly shook his head with a scoff.
Ivar The Boneless x Reader
Genre: Comfort / Fluff
Words: ± 1 600
A curse leaded to Ivar being turned into a half-cat person, which he doesn't really knows how to deal with nor does his partner, but they figure it out despite how stubborn Ivar can be.
Suggested by @bragisrunes"I would love to see your take on cat ivar! smut or fluff!!!"
Took some of Bragi's story as inspo, absolutely lovely, go check his story about cat Ivar!
Not proofread! Sorry for any mistakes!
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
The unfortunate cross of ways between Ivar and that witch resulted in this curse we have no idea how to solve, but we were taught to wait, at least. You need two thinks thing; the first all things devours: birds, beasts, trees, flowers; gnaws iron, bites steel; grinds hard stones to meal; slays king, ruins town, and beats high mountain down; the second if you think you have it, you probably don't; if you have it, you probably won't know it—she had said with a spine-chilling chuckle before shooting a glare at Ivar and walking away. It wasn’t until we went back to the Great Hall that we noticed that Ivar wasn’t quite the same as when he had left his house, this time counting on the company of a tail and cat ears.
At first, it was just Ubbe and I staring at Ivar while trying to process what was happening and figure out what to do with it while Ivar sat there confused, only to be alarmed by Sigurd once he walked into the room and snorted at the moment his eyes fell on Ivar, and that’s when chaos ensued, intensified by Hvitserk also getting himself into the situation.
That was a couple of days ago. Now, we’re just making sure to keep Ivar inside the Hall and as hidden from the people as possible—under Aslaug’s orders—whilst we try to figure out a way to get him back to normal, though there’s no trace of the witch anywhere. It’s almost as if she vanished. Either way, we’re stuck with dealing with a grumpy Ivar until all of this is over. Well, either grumpy or extremely playful since he gets bored very easily; sometimes he will just show up in the corner of the room under bed covers, observing us as some sort of ghost, and start giggling as soon as someone jumps startled after noticing his presence. I would hate it if it weren’t so adorable—and maybe I spoil him more than I should, whatever Ubbe says.
Now is another one of these times; I could hear the characteristic sound of Ivar dragging himself down the hall under the sound of indistinct chatter and people walking, and soon the figure settles down by the corner of the room.
For a moment, I cogitate pretending to get scared, but I save myself time and also the inconvenience. “I’m nowhere near done yet.” The coins make a muffled sound that cuts through the room when I push them down the wooden table to a small pile.
Ivar whines, huffing as he pulls the cover over his head for a moment. “You don’t need to do those, anyways.”
“It’s not like that.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not here for free, even if I’m a great friend of the family.”
“Even mother told you to get that idea off your head already!” He clicks his tongue, his ears shifting under the cover. “Can’t you do that tomorrow or anything? I’m sure no one will mind!”
“Ivar, the things won’t buy themselves!” I scoff, taking the coins in hand to shove them inside the small bag. “And you won’t survive a night without that tea that soothes the pain, you know that!” I shoot a glare at him before I can start sorting out the other objects I got for trading to make sure Hvitserk didn’t forget to get me anything this time.
“Can’t you send Ubbe to do that?”
“You know he’s busy with the newcomers.”
“Hvitserk?”
“Training.”
“Uuh, fuck... Sigurd?” His voice is quiet and small. It almost makes my heart ache a little since the fact he’s suggesting Sigurd, resorting to the last means...
I sigh. “Hedeby with your mother.”
“No!” He groans, voice growing louder. “That means you’ll need to go out! And I’ll be here alone forever! Is this what you want, (y/n)? You want to put me under all this suffering?”
Gods, poor baby—okay, I’m being partly sarcastic, part of me still wants to cuddle him all day long. I make sure everything is in order before I get up and move to crouch down next to him, wrapping my arms around Ivar. “You know I’ll give you all the love when I come back, stop being dramatic. You’re even the reason I’m leaving, you dumbass, you’re aware only your brothers and I know the stuff to get at the market.”
Ivar hums in defeat, resting his head against my shoulder. “You’ll be spending the night with me,” he whispers.
“Of course.” I smile softly, and let my hand slip under the covers to scratch a spot behind his ears, earning myself the quiet rumbling sound of his purring that’s soon interrupted as he quietly curses, tapping my forearm a couple of times at the same moment he hears footsteps down the hall, though no one ever walks in. I chuckle, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Be good while I’m away.”
His eyes meet mine for a short moment before they’re falling to the ground and he slowly nods as the light red tone takes over his cheeks.
Even if most of what Ivar does when following me around the city when I have to do my duties is to distract me for most of the time—not like I’m completely against it, especially given the times when he’ll look at me with that crafty smirk, minutes before pulling me to a quiet corner so we can kiss until his lips are all swollen and mine tingle—, I do miss his presence a lot. It’s not as fun to walk around without anyone to talk to or someone poking my calf every two seconds so I will check something out. Of course I’m able to do everything faster, but I weirdly feel more tired than usual when I’m done. Damn witch.
The hall’s empty as it usually is at the end of the afternoon, in a great contrast to its state late at night when everyone is here for supper. A sigh escapes my lips as I let the things I brought back on top of the table and motion for a thrall to put everything away. My breath is still a little out of pace when I carefully walk into Ivar’s bedroom, making sure I’m not too noisy in case he’s asleep again—it’s nowhere easy to identify whether the figure hidden under the blanket with its swinging tail out is awake or not.
A long sigh finally escapes my nose as I take a seat on the bed, about to move to start untying my shoes when fingers digging into my sides have me jumping and screaming as my heartbeat bangs in my ears, but I’m soon grounded with the sound of giggling.
“Fuck!” I click my tongue, shaking my head, but Ivar just laughs louder, and as much as I want to join him and laugh along, I limit myself to only pressing my lips together in a gentle smile so he won’t grow so smug. “Very funny, love, very funny!”
“You should’ve seen your face!”
I roll my eyes, slapping his arm lightly. “Fuck off, hm?” I finally bend down to untie my laces and get my shoes off, and it doesn’t take long before my vest is growing loose, and I glance back at Ivar, who tugs the strings of my vest undone then scoots away to give me some room on the bed. My vest meets the ground with a heavy thud, and I finally allow myself to feel some peace as I cuddle close to Ivar, also slipping under the furs. “So? How were things while I was away?”
Ivar sighs as he rests his head against my shoulder, raising his eyebrows a little. “Boring, of course.”
“Yeah, same for me,” I hum, but soon brush away the thoughts that almost gave me headaches earlier today. One of Ivar’s strands falls on his eyes, so I try to brush it away only for him to move away from the touch and he has my knuckle between his teeth before I can notice. Fuck. The complaint I was about to groan, however, dies at my lips at the moment I notice how he’s more of chewing down on my knuckle lightly instead of biting, much like the kittens that I had found at the forest would do. Sometimes I wonder if Asa and Hali still take care of them, something I would ask Bjorn about if he showed up as often as he promises to.
A sigh escapes my lips as I raise an eyebrow at Ivar and he seems to be brought to reality by it, his eyes meeting mine while he pauses for a moment only to sink his teeth into my finger actually hard this time.
“Ivar!” I hiss, pulling my hand away with a glare that doesn’t do anything much aside from snatching another chuckle from him; I shake my hand a little until the pain is reduced to a soft throbbing and sigh, sitting up on the bed. “I’m going to sleep in the guest room if you continue like that!”
“No!” Ivar cries out with a groan, and I roll my eyes, shaking my head as I pull him close and tight so he won’t mess around again so easily. He’s still grumbling quietly when snuggling closer, pressing his face to my neck as his hand rests on my chest, drawing patterns against it absentmindedly.
@ivarlover asked: Hi! I asked in one of the comments (from your story about Ivar and his boyfriend) about the possibly of more being written about Ivar being taught to swim and the two of them falling in love. Would that be possible for you to write? & I know it can be a touchy subject for some but I'd like to ask for a bit more touchy Feely or I guess fluff. 😍 It's a really sweet, beautiful story & ultimately, if you do you write more, it'll make me happy regardless of what's in it. ❤️
Fluff and hints of smut, but mostly fluff. (Gif used until I can find time to make a story banner.) Ivar x Male reader.
find my Vikings oneshot masterpost here. / read the first part of this story here.
Tag list for fics: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics @batmandallyboy - if you want to be added to a tag list, just let me know!
Hands rest gently under his bare shoulders as his body floats serenely in the water. It's just Ivar and Y/N, as it always is during these lessons. Looking up into Y/N's eyes, he holds his gaze as the other man gently lets him go, moving backwards through the water and away from Ivar.
He never goes far, always close enough to be there if Ivar needs him and Ivar has learned to trust that he's safe here. Looking now towards the sky, eyes fixing on a cloud between the break in the trees overhead, Ivar pulls his arms back, moving himself through the water as he had learned.
"You're a quick learner," Y/N says just as Ivar closes the short distance, now floating on his back in front of him again. "I should have known you'd learn quickly, there's nothing you can't do."
Ivar's cheeks burn at the compliment. "Perhaps you didn't notice but I can not get my legs to work," replies Ivar, voice dripping in sarcastic humor. "If you are that blind then I am worried about you teaching me to swim. You would not see me when I drown."
Y/N laughs, already used to the sardonic humor that Ivar has about himself. "The Gods would brandish me a fool if let Ivar the Boneless drown." Once again hands steady beneath Ivar's shoulder blades and he leans his head forward enough to look into Ivar's eyes. "Sometimes at night I find myself thinking you must be Freya."
"What the fuck does that mean?" A frown slips into place on Ivar's lips as he suddenly feels self-conscious. Y/N has never mocked or laughed at him, he has no reason to believe he would start now. And yet the declaration was too strange and unbidden for Ivar to believe anything else.
His swimming tutor only grins, a sure sign that he means not to elaborate and it frustrates Ivar to no end. It's hard for him, sometimes, to grasp the meanings that others have. Especially when it comes to love or friendship. These cues are lost on Ivar, who feels even more desperately left behind in this world.
Sometimes he wishes he was more like his brothers. Even Sigurd, whom he fought with almost daily - they who could not only walk and run but who found comradarie and love so easily. They understood the unspoken rules to a game that Ivar not only was too frightened to play but that he also didn't fully understand.
An agitated growl leaves his lips. "Speak plainly, you bastard! You're always making these strange comments. No one understands you." Once again, Ivar is met with laughter and it only increases his agitation.
"You're always so quick to assume the worst of me, Ivar."
He feels like one of his mother's cats - warming himself and napping under the midday sun. Were he not so drowsy, perhaps a smile would cross his face.
They lay together on furs that Y/N had brought with him for Ivar's warmth and comfort. Their chests are bare and their shoulders touch as they lay side-by-side. Ivar's blue eyes are drifting closed, comforted into an almost sleep-like state by the warm sun basking down on him through the trees and the exhaustion in his muscles from the long swim lesson.
"It's because you are beautiful," soft words break the silence and draw Ivar back to wakefulness. He slowly blinks his eyes open and turns his head to stare at his companion. "You, Ivar Ragnarsson, are beautiful."
It's the first time that he's ever been so openly complimented like this and it makes him uneasy. "Don't lie to me!" He demands, voice slightly hoarse from just waking.
If anyone was beautiful, it was Y/N. Ivar constantly felt his gaze sweeping over the muscles in Y/N's bare chest and abs or settling on hands that were calloused from work over the years. It was hard for him to admit that he liked the other, that sometimes late at night he thought about the feeling of Y/N's hands on his skin and it made a fluttering feeling in his lower belly.
Y/N turns on his side so he can look at Ivar properly and reaches out a hand to stroke Ivar's cheek. Under the sudden, soft touch, Ivar can't help but flinch.
"I'm not lying to you," his soft voice is almost a whisper, as if he's telling Ivar the very secrets of his heart and mind. The softness brings Ivar back, makes him lean in closer so he can listen. "I think that you are the most beautiful man that I have ever seen. I thought so that day on the beach as well." He can see the way that Ivar fights to believe what he's hearing, knows Ivar struggles with self-worth sometimes.
"When I saw you, sitting in the sand alone, I wanted to know you. So badly did I want to sit at your side and share with you my company and companionship. There was something about you that drew me in from the start and the more time we spend together, the more that feeling grows."
He lays there, letting Ivar process the confession in his own time. He can practically see the way it turns over and over in Ivar's brilliant mind, being prodded for lies and deceit. In the weeks that he's been meeting Ivar here in secret, he's learned to understand a great deal of him. Ivar was cunning and he was wise for his age, learning from the mistakes of others and always watching those around him so he could learn more.
Emotions were hard for Ivar. He locked them up until they burst out of him at inopportune times and because he never allowed himself to process his own emotions in a healthy way, it often meant that understanding other people's emotions came as a hard task.
Finally something in Ivar's face softens, as if he's letting down a small fraction of the walls he's internally built around himself. "What has the feeling grown into?" He asks, voice more hopeful then he wanted to let on.
Once again, Y/N reaches out to touch him, this time settling his palm over Ivar's cheek. He brushes his thumb softly over the skin. "I am falling in love with you." The words are spoken honestly and reverently and his gaze never breaks from Ivar's.
He knows that Ivar may reject him - that fear clings so tightly within Ivar's chest. It dances up through his ribcage like an unruly vine - a weed that squeezes Ivar's heart and tells him that love is not for him. Y/N would never lie, not about his feelings to the young prince.
Cautiously, Ivar leans into the warm palm on his cheek, his heart beating an unsteady rhythm in his chest. Those late night flutterings return in the pit of his stomach, rising in his chest in the same way that air used to catch in his lungs with the exhilaration of Hvitserk pushing his little wagon down a steep hill. Ivar suddenly feels like a child, cascading quickly down the slope with giddy laughter catching in his throat and no thoughts of consequences if he were to crash.
He doesn't have the words to explain what he's feeling or what it means - perhaps if he were Hvitserk, the words would tumble over his tongue smoothly. He moves with little thought, pushing himself into a seated position and overlooking Y/N.
His hand, not currently bound by cloth or glove to protect his skin against debris when he crawls, rests flatly on Y/N's chest. A giddy laugh bubbles out through softly parted lips and Ivar, for the first time in a long time, looks happy.
"You are a liar," he says, though in his voice Y/N can tell that Ivar is not being serious. A smile settles over Ivar's plush lips and Y/N wonders how Ivar keeps them unchapped and so soft looking.
Y/N sits up and Ivar's hand slowly slides down, resting for a moment on his belly before Ivar pulls it away, too embarrassed by the sudden intimacy.
"Can I kiss you?" Y/N puts a hand on the back of Ivar's neck, already pulling himself so close that Ivar can feel the heat of his body. "I would like to kiss you, Ivar. But only if it is what you want."
Ivar feels his breath catch in his throat and he eagerly nods. For the first time, he has the sensation of lips pressed against his own. Ivar's eyes are wide open but he soon follows Y/N's lead and lets them fall closed.
When the soft kiss breaks, Y/N chuckles as Ivar practically throws himself in for another kiss. He is desperate for another after another after another, until they are both panting for air and their foreheads touching.
Y/N brushes the tip of his nose gently across Ivar's before kissing his cheek. His arms wrap around Ivar, drawing him close and Ivar's head rests in the space between his shoulder and neck.
They sit together until the sun begins to make her descent, stars beginning to litter the twilight sky as they usher in the moon's nightly arrival. He feels Ivar's shoulders begin to shake a little with the nighttime chill that is starting to descend upon them and pulls away gently.
"We should dress," he says, the corners of his lips threatening to twitch into a smile as he sees the way Ivar pouts. How little it took to turn Ivar into a softer person. As if Ivar had been waiting all this time for someone to begin the process of giving him their heart. "You will catch cold, Ivar. That is the last thing I want."
As the trees begin to break, showing Kattegat before them, Ivar stops mid-crawl. He looks up at the man who was stealing his way into Ivar's heart and suddenly he feels nervous.
"I will still see you tomorrow?" he asks, afraid for no reason that he can name, that Y/N will brush him aside and forget him now.
"I will fall asleep tonight, thanking the Gods for the memory of your kisses, Ivar. I will see you tomorrow, yes. I will see you everyday, if you will allow it."
The answer makes Ivar happy, happier than he knows how to say.
When Ivar lays in bed that night, he can not stop thinking about Y/N. He runs the pads of his fingers over his lips, remembering each kiss and craving another. There is warmth in his chest that blossoms and blooms like spring flowers under the first glimpse of sun after winter leaves.
Footsteps bring him out of his daze and he sits up, watching someone pad barefoot into his room under the cover of night. He doesn't move as a body slips into his bed, sitting beside him comfortably even as he tenses at the intrusion.
"I saw the look on your face at dinner," whispers Hvitserk, so close to Ivar in the darkness. "I know the look of first love," he teases.
"You don't know what you're talking about," whispers back Ivar, feeling suddenly protective of his secrets and Y/N. "Your face was buried in the chicken, as it always is when there's food." He taps a mocking hand against Hvitserk's soft stomach, but they both know it is out of love.
He wouldn't say so, but Hvitserk is his favorite brother after all. The chubby, older boy pouts, reminding Ivar of a sad puppy.
"Alright, don't tell me. But you know you can if you want to. I have more experience with love after all." Hvitserk begins to slip out of Ivar's bed, pausing for a moment to turn back around. "If you're happy, I'm happy for you." And then he darts away without a second word, heading either back to bed and the warmth of Margrethe's naked body or to the kitchens for a late night snack.
Hvitserk's easily given love and the fact that he never tries to force Ivar to talk, are the reasons Ivar loves him most of all. As a small boy, he would crawl into Hvitserk's bed at night when it was too cold or his legs hurt too much or he had nightmares. Hvitserk would always whisper stories of the Gods until his baby brother nodded back off into sleep. Hvitserk also used to be Ivar's favorite pillow as a child. The older boy was strong and a skilled fighter, but he was also soft from being chubby. His stomach made a good pillow when Ivar felt strangely affectionate towards his family.
Ivar settles back down, a smile creeping back onto his face as he starts thinking once again of secret kisses in the woods.
"Am I your boyfriend?" Ivar's question comes after 2 weeks of stolen, secret kisses and hugs. Of talking and letting himself open his heart more.
He rests currently, not in the water, but with his back against Y/N's chest as they dry off together. Toned arms rest around Ivar's torso, holding him close and secure.
"Do you want to be?" Comes the reply and Ivar closes his eyes at the feeling of lips on his neck. "I don't want to share you, Ivar. I'm selfish in that way."
Ivar smiles at the words but then his mouth parts and a soft sigh escapes him as the kisses on his neck become little bites. Y/N is careful not to leave marks that Ivar will have to explain away.
"Yes," says Ivar, so throaty that it's almost a moan. "I want to be yours. I don't want to share you either."
"Elsker min," whispers Y/N in Ivar's ear and he feels Ivar shiver in response. Teeth graze Ivar's earlobe, drawing a kitten's mewl from Ivar, who turns abruptly to pull his, now, boyfriend into a heated kiss.
When the kiss finally breaks, Ivar takes one of Y/N's hands and drops it on his lap. Y/N can feel the tent in Ivar's drying breeches - it's a new development in their relationship and Ivar looks embarrassed to be so open with it.
"We'll go back to mine," whispers Y/N as a promise. "First times shouldn't be in the dirt."
Ivar hides his face against his boyfriend's chest. "Okay," he whispers.
He knows Y/N will take care of him, will keep him from drowning even in his own head. He's not afraid for once - and he thinks perhaps fear won't ever touch him as easily when he's in Y/N's arms.
Hey! I have a request if you have time and motivation x3 I suffer from tourettes and wanted to ask if you could do a Ivar x reader where reader has tourettes. Not really bad but for example throwing their head back (The neck hurts soo bad from this gosh-) Maybe also bring hvitserk in or something if you want to <3 Write how you like and even modern Au if you think that fits more. Also i love your fics <3
Hi! Sorry for taking long to answer! But of course! <3 I'll be happy to write it! I'll write it asap, and I'm already sorry in advance if I take too long! Thanks a lot for the request and the support!
