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.”