darksoulgemx

Latest Posts by darksoulgemx

0.1 ━━━━ history is written by the victors.

i've decided to start posting on tumblr, so this is a new beggining! i've had this doc idea for a while, and i'd like for it to be an indicative of what i can do. ❝ history is written by the victors ❞ is a text-heavy, single-muse google doc, that has a variety of links & a few images. it's very obviously centered around finnick odair, and I hope that the doc has managed to capture at least some of his essence.

about the use go to file, then select make a copy. do not remove the credit, please. turn off the ability to make a copy before using it. like & reblog this post if you are going to use it.

likes & reblogs are appreciated!

access the document · ━━ ˊ * 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘...

Vikings Masterlist

Tall tale: Ivar x Reader One-Shot

Endless Love: Modern Ivar x Reader One-Shot

The Olive Branch: Modern Ivar x Reader One-Shot

Falling Together (Complete): Ivar x Reader In which Ivar and reader are wed for an alliance. Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4

Contending the Flame (In Progress): Ivar x Nun!Reader Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10/ Part 11/ Part 12

Chase the Sun: Modern Floki x Reader

Saturated: (One-shot) Ivar x Reader Ivar thinks he’s found a daughter of the goddess Ràn

Will continue to update frequently!

Had some early morning visitors at work today 🐸🐸

im a person who wants to do lots of things trapped inside a body that wants to SLEEP at all times

reblog the money pigeon for a financially stable future

Honestly be pretentious as fuck about the stuff you create. Do a press release for your fanfic updates. Do a Q&A about your webcomic. Make fake merch designs for your OCs. Commission "official" book covers. Very few of us will ever get to a stage where something we've created Makes It Big but even if you have an audience of 5 people plus a shoelace fucking indulge yourself and pretend!! It's the only way to live!!

The Interview •Alex Høgh Andersen •

A/N: GhostOracle is based on the band JINJER. And this one is short.

Alex and Marco sat on the couch across from the interviewer on the other side of the small wooden table answering questions. "Ok so last question for Alex." He said with a grin. Alex smiled back. "Alright. Shoot." "A little birdy told me you have a celebrity crush. Care to elaborate?" Alex glanced over to Marco who was smirking. "I uh..yup. I do." He said and leaned into Marco who laughed. "Ok. Who is this celebrity? Do we know them?" Alex squeezed his eyes shut with a smile. "Oh God. Um maybe?" Marco laughed loudly. "Just say it! Stop stalling!" "Shut up. I know the little birds was you. Always spilling my secrets!" He said jokingly. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Alright. So Marco showed me this band whilst we were filming season 5. I'm not too into heavy metal music. I like rock music but the screaming usually gives me a headache and I try to avoid those at all costs. But Marco loves heavy metal music. So one day he convinced me to listen to one of his favorite bands, GhostOracle, and I do admit it's good. I was really confused at first because I was like "how is that sound coming from a woman?" All three men laugh before Alex continues. "But then I was like 'oh this is catchy.' It was stuck inside my head all day so when I went home I decided to listen to more and then I got curious so I looked them up and yeah." He cuts himself off. Marco claps his hand on his back. "No no no. Tell them what you told me. You texted me not long after." He laughed. Alex went red. "I uhhh. Texted Marco and said the frontwoman, Lilith, was beautiful." He cleared his throat. "With heart eye emoji! And he follows her on instagram and twitter. I see him smiling like an idiot at his phone anytime somethings posted." Marco cuts in. And Alex pushes his face into Marcos shoulder to hide. "Hey now. We know GhostOracle here! They are actually one of our favorites to interview. So I do agree with you Alex. Lilith is very beautiful. And kind too!" The interviewer said trying to lighten up the embarrassment Alex felt. Alex righted himself on the couch feeling a bit relieved. "That being said. We do have a surprise for you before you go! A thank you for letting us interview you!" Alex nodded thinking the situation was over with. Until "Hello boys. Nice to meet you!" He froze at the Ukrainian accented female voice he had come to know. Marco nodded at her whilst grinning and moved over so she could sit between the two of them. She took a seat and smiled. "You are Marco and you are Alex?" She asked. Marco nodded happily and Alex nodded whilst blushing. "Im Lilith! Vikings is actually my favorite show! So this is an honor for me!" The interviewer laughs. "And who's your favorite viking on the show?" She smiled. "Ivar. Hands down. I like the chaos. Who doesnt?" Alex turned red again. "You've heard Alex has a crush on you. What's do you think?" She laughed softly and Alex rubbed his face trying to hide. "I think he's not so bad himself." She raised a brow and shrugged with a soft smile. Marco laughed loudly. "Im like cupid man." She laughed with him whilst Alex just grinned embarrassed. "Well I think this all went very well. It's time to end the interview unfortunately but I think we ended on a great note. As for the two of you, I now ship you. So I hope everything works out!" The three laugh.

And it did infact work out. They stayed friends for a while before actually dating and eventually marrying. All because of Marco and an interview.

Unexpectedly •Ivar The Boneless Modern AU•

A/N: Lagerthas Daughter OC × Ivar! But she's only Bjorns half sister. So it's not anything crazy. And because I like Lagertha and think she absolutely wouldn't have killed Aslaug out of jealously if she hadn't been in her villain Era Arc, Aslaug is still alive in this one. But Ragnar is dead. Recently and I think Aslaug and Lagertha would've been friends if they could've both gotten over Ragnars cheating ass. Just saying.

Ivar was annoyed to say the least.

He didn't understand why they had to move to Hedeby after Ragnars death. They were perfectly fine in his mind. But Aslaug had said that things were just too hard without him around and they needed a fresh start. One close to a support system that Lagertha offered. So here he was, in a new place with new people, people that had no issues gawking at him and poking fun at him. It was his first week here and what hell it already was. He wasn't just new meat to these fuckers. No he was new meat with a disability. And that made him ripe for the Bullying he was enduring by the popular kids. He couldn't count how many times they'd already tripped him or shoved him into the lockers, fake apologizing afterwards and laughing like hyenas at him. It was beginning to be routine for him. One he didn't think would ever end. So when his crutch was kicked from under him as he tried to walk down the hall to his next class, he didn't have time to curse before his back hit the hard ground and he scrunched his face up in pain as his legs gave out under him. The hyena like laugh of the group of boys filling his ears. He went to reach for the crutch but it was quickly picked up by one of them who proceeded to run down the hall with it laughing. But it abruptly ended as he collided with a smaller but stronger body. And Ivar watched as the boy hit the ground on his back just like he had. A burgundy haired girl, one he recognized and cursed the gods for crossing paths with now of all times, stood angrily in the middle of the hall. "Watch where the FUCK you're going." She growled out to the boy, snatching the crutch from him. "You all think this is funny huh?" She asked before twirling the crutch and studying it a moment. She looked down at the boy with a smirk before striking as fast as lightning, jabbing the crutch into his abdomen. The boy let out a yell. "I asked you a question." The hall was deadly silent by now, everyone watching, no one daring to move. "No! No!" He cried out as she pushed further on the crutch. "Then why did you do it?" She asked raising a brow. "Hey, it was just a joke, chill out." One of them beside Ivar who was still on the floor suddenly spoke up, stepping forward. She raised her eyes to him. "Is he fucking laughing?" She asked gesturing to Ivar. She began walking towards the group of boys. "N-no. But were sorry alright? Won't happen again." She was right beside Ivar now. "Don't apologize to me. Apologize to him." She said sternly. "Hey man. We're really sorry. We won't mess with you anymore ok?" Ivar let out a breathless scoff past his pain. "Fuck off." The boy gulped and looked back at the small girl. "You heard him." Was all she said before they made their escape. She watched them disappear around the corner and looked down to him. "Ivar." She nodded in acknowledgment. "Andromache." He groaned back. She sighed and offered her hand. He eyed it before grabbing it and not expecting the strength the small girl had as she hauled him up and handed him his crutch. He tucked it under his arm and let go of her, standing again on his own. She leaned down and picked up his book bag, handing it to him before patting his chest. "Try not to get into anymore trouble yeah? I won't always be around to save you." She joked lightly. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Thanks." She nodded and moved past him down the hall, now late just as most of them were.

The two of them saw more of eachother from that day forward. Their mothers being friends and all, it wasnt odd for the two families to have dinners together occasionally. But they never were closer than occasional friends. They acknowledged eachother in the hallways and shared some friends. But they were opposites. Where Andromache was outgoing and liked to hang out with the sports kids as she did weight lifting with them in the afternoons, Ivar was quiet and kept to himself with a handful of friends that he could trust. They just didn't mesh as best friends like their mothers did. And that was ok. But because of her, those boys never messed with him again. Infact no one did unless they wanted to incur Andromache's wrath. No one knew why she had stood up for him that day the way she had. Yes they knew their families knew eachother. But to their knowledge her Ivar weren't close like that. But that didn't matter. they had all seen what would happen if Ivar was touched. And they steered clear. But Ivar had been noticed by someone. Freydis. The cheerleader captain. She was beautiful and popular and everything that Ivar knew was out of his league. But she wanted him and who was he to give up this opportunity? So they began dating much to everyone's surprise. And it wasn't long before he began pushing his friends and family away and changing for the worst. He became the bully. He became what he despised, all because Freydis whispered that he was better than all of them.

But it wasn't long before Freydis found something else, someone else, to latch onto and Ivar was quickly left in the dust with no one to support him and help ease the hurt of finding his 'first love' with her tongue down another guy's throat in the locker rooms. He grew bitter and angry and no one wanted to be near him. He was so caught up in his hurt and anger that he didn't notice the split lip and bruised cheek Freydis sported the next week. No he was ignorant to the punishment his ex had received from the hands of Andromache. He was oblivious to the fact that the whole school had found out about everything. He was just angry. And no one else mattered in his bubble of rage. The cigarette was slapped from his mouth abruptly. "What the fuck?" He said angrily before turning to the offender. Andromache. She glared at him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" "Me?!" Ivar was oblivious as to what her problem was. What did he do? Nothing. "Yes you. You idiot." He scoffed and only stuck a new cigarette in his mouth, lighting it up and inhaling the smoke. "I've no idea what you're on about." "Freydis." His mood soured instantly. "Don't fucking say that name." He said as he blew out the smoke with a glare in her direction. "Ivar. Did you do it?" "Do what?!" He yelled frustrated with this conversation. She sighed and sat beside him. "Shes pregnant. She's saying it's yours." She finally said. He froze. "Ivar?" She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Ivar are you alright?" He coughed and threw down the cigarette with a groan, stomping it out and digging his hands into his face. "I fucked her." Was all he said. Andromache patted his shoulder soothingly. "Im sorry Ivar." He just took a deep breath. "My mother. Does she know yet?" Andromache gave him a sad smile. "She does." He groaned loudly and sighed. "I guess I've no choice then do I? I've got to talk to Freydis." She nodded and he nodded back. "Thanks for telling me." "Anytime." She said and left him to his thoughts.

To say Ivar was absolutely miserable was an understatement. He absolutely hated Freydis. But since she was carrying his child he wanted to do the right thing and stand beside her. And to him that meant putting a ring on her finger. It wasnt something he wanted to be doing at 18 years old. Having a family was something he wanted to wait until at least 24 to do. He throught that was reasonable. But he did admit that it was his own actions that led him here. But the one constant of all this was Andromache. The two of them had grown closer since this all came to light. Something like best friends now. She was always there for his rants of frustration and his insecurities about being a good father and he was always there for her rants about her horrible dating life and how dumb men were. And that was their routine. Always there eachother. And though he could see the jealousy in Freydis' eyes every time he mentioned Andromache, he didn't care much. He was loyal. He didn't have anything to hide. He wasn't manipulative and he didn't cheat. Not like her. So he didn't much care about how she felt. He was only with her because of duty. But she'd been pulling him away from Andromache lately, using the baby as an excuse and because he didn't want the arguments, he just did what she asked. And the two began to drift apart. And it bothered him. He wasn't sure when he'd began feeling things for Bjorns half sister, but it was more and more obvious the way the feelings of jealousy hit him when he'd look at her instagram and see pictures of her before dates or her out with her friends looking absolutely stunning and knowing there was nothing stopping her from sleeping with any guy that wasn't him. But he had a commitment to Freydis and his child. No matter how reluctant that commitment was.

But everything changed when the child was actually born. He had had Hvitserk race him to the hospital when Freydis had called to tell him it was time. He'd let her crush his hand as she gave birth and whispered words of encouragement to her, doing all he could to make it a bit easier for her, only to take one look at the kid and see it clearly wasn't his. Neither of them had brown eyes or red hair. He had clenched his jaw and told her it was over and that she could keep the ring. He was out. She had screamed at him that he was selfish to leave her like this just after giving birth and that they could talk about this. She loved him. He had laughed humorlessly as he told her to get fucked and that he felt sorry that the kid was stuck with someone like her as it's mother. She had been shocked at his cold rage as he exited the room and called Hvitserk to pick him up. Only, he didn't answer. No one did. So as he hesitantly hovered his finger over the screen, he sighed and pressed it before he could back out, it was answered on the second ring. "Ivar? Everything ok?" Her voice was like singing valkyries and he closed his eyes at the way he missed it. "No. Um..could you pick me up? I'm at the hospital." "Oh gods. Are you ok?!" The panic and concern in her voice warmed him. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm not here for me." He hoped she understood. "Oh ok. Yeah. Be there soon." The relief in her voice wasn't hard to miss. "Thanks. See you soon."

He heard the rumble of the engine before he saw the Black, Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat as it rolled to a stop infront of him. "Hey." She greeted as he opened the door and climbed in with a bit of difficulty due to his legs and crutch. "Hey." He breathed back. It was quiet as she began to drive. "Does Bjorn know you hijacked his car?" "No. And you wont tell him if you want to live." He cracked a small smile before it fades as he thinks about what happened. "Hey...what's wrong? What happened?" "Kid wasn't mine." He lurches forward as she stomps on the brakes, the wheels screeching. Luckily they were on a deserted road and no one else was around. "WHAT?!" She yells and turns to look at him. "What the fuck do you mean the kid wasn't yours?!" She asks incredulously. He takes a deep breath to steady himself from the death that just flashed before his eyes. "ANDY! you can't just do that shit! Gods! Are you trying to kill us?!" "Shut up you're alive clearly. Now tell me what the fuck happened. Now." He rolls his eyes. "Kid wasn't mine Andy. I don't have brown eyes and red hair and neither does Freydis. And she admitted to it in a roundabout way before I left. It was all some ruse to keep him as some sort of possession. I told her to keep the ring and never call me again. I blocked her number whilst I was waiting for you. I'm gonna have Hvitserk drop her shit off at her house later." He said. "That conniving fucking bitch. I knew she wasn't right in the head." She said angrily. "Shes lucky she just gave birth or I'd unleash seven hells of fury on her myself. Wait until your mom finds out." His heart dropped. His mother. His poor mother. She didn't like Freydis but she'd been so looking forward to having a grandchild from him. "No Andy. Leave her alone. She's not worth it. And not a word to my mother. I'll tell her myself tonight. Now let's go. I want to get home in one peice. Or I won't be the only one dealing with my mother." He said. She huffed and began to drive again. "You're lucky I'm more afraid of Aslaug than of you." She said. He smiled slightly.

His mother had indeed been devastated. That she wouldn't be getting the grandchild she'd be so excited for but the real reason for her devastation was that she'd let that manipulative girl back in her sons life after she'd broken him the first time only to have her completely shatter the broken boy she'd managed to put back together again. And she knew that it would take a lot for her boy to trust another woman like that again with his heart. And she resented Freydis for that. He was so young. He had his whole life ahead of him but now he would always carry the trauma and mistrust that snake put into him. He could only hope another woman would come along to help mend it all. And she had her eye on the one she knew would. Andromache. She knew the two of them felt something more for eachother. And in another life maybe they would've realised it sooner, before Freydis. But now she knew it would be even longer before the two actually acted on their feelings. But no matter how long it took, she'd be there to encourage it. They were perfect for eachother she knew it. And so did Lagertha.

Mine •Ivar The Boneless•

She was only 16 when Ragnar had come with his cripple son, Ivar, to their gates. She had been forbidden by her father, Athelwulf, from interacting with either of the heathens. Being his only daughter, bastard or not, meant he was overprotective of her much to Judith's annoyance. He paid more attention to her and doted on her more than his sons. And this only served to deepen the Crack in his and Judith's relationship. It fueled Judith's hatred for her as well. But Skylark didn't listen to her father. She often snuck down into the dungeons to see the crippled boy. At first he was annoyed. What did the prim and proper little princess want to see and spend time with him for other than to gawk at his disability. But over time he was intrigued. The way she snuck around and rebelled. The way she was so eager to learn about vikings and his gods. And soon it turned into something more. Admiration? Love? He didn't know. All he knew is that it was with her that he learned he was infact a man, the same as his brothers. The night before he was to be sent back home, he had laid with her, taking her innocence without guilt. But it had only made him that much lonelier when he arrived back at kattegat to the news of his mother's death. But soon loneliness gave way to rage and she was just another fleeting though to him on his way to revenge and glory.

He was happy with Freydis, the slave he'd freed in York. She whispered sweet nothings in his ear and told him he was a god. That his legs made him so. That Odin himself favored him and he could do anything. And he believed her. He loved her. She was his everything. She was going to be his queen. So when he'd led the attack on Winchester, it was her that fueled him. Her and his revenge. He would give her the world. But when the city was found empty and the old King Ecbert rose from his Throne with a tired look on his face, he felt his rage bubble. This was supposed to be a glorious battle to apprehend the betrayer of his father. Not this. This was too easy for Ivar. So as the brothers argued over what to do with him, they almost missed the painful screams that echoed in the west wing. Almost. The brothers looked between them before Bjorn and Hvitserk took off towards the sound. And he watched Ecbert's face turn white with fear. He smiled viciously. The old man was hiding something he wanted them to not find out about.

When Bjorn and Hvitserk kicked open the large wooden door, they took in the sight before them and Bjorn shuddered. The maids in the room only spared them a glance before going back to work. "Please princess. He's almost here! You have to push." Bjorn pushed Hvitserk. "Go and get Ivar. Now!" He said sternly as he did the math in his head. This was a disaster. He knew his little brother to be irresponsible. But never in his right mind did he think ivar capable of this. No one did infact which the rumors that the thrall, Margarethe, had spread about him. But there was no denying it as he watched the princess sprawled upon the giant bed, legs up and bent, her white blonde hair slick with sweat and sticking to her forehead, her face scrunched up in pain as she sobbed, her belly protruding with the telltale signs of child. This was Ivars child. His son.

"What is the meaning of this? Surely it's nothing so important that you-" his words died in his throat at the pain filled scream of agony that broke throught the door where his brother was standing guard. And he knew who it belonged to. Bjorn lowered his head and winced at the sound. He moved quickly, shoving Bjorn out of the way and slamming the door open. He sagged against the wall at the sight he saw. "Princess. Once more. You can do this." "I cant. I can't." She sobbed and begged. "Yes. You must. For your son." The maid whispered. That seemed to fuel her as she braced herself on her forearms and pushed with a yell that was soon met with the cry of a newly born infant. "He's here princess!" Ivar was frozen in shock as he watched. He watched her sag back into the bed with relief and watched the maids pass him warily with a baby boy. Brunette, Thick, hair covered his head and he wailed with strong lungs as they cleaned him off and wrapped him up, handing him off to the woman in the bed. And it was then that he broke his trance, moving over to the bed, his crutch thumping as he moved, the maids stepping back as he took a seat on the edge of the matress, staring at the bundle in his once lovers arms. "Ivar?" She asked quietly and in disbelief. Through her pain she hadn't known he was even there. And she felt a sinking feeling at what it all meant. "Hes..he's my-?" He asked, his voice cracking as tears filled his eyes. "Yes. You're the only man I've laid with." She quietly admitted. He took another minute before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You've given me a son." He whispered in disbelief and awe. She stayed silent. "May i?" He asked her hesitantly. She gave a weak smile before fixing his arms and carefully handing him the babe. He looked down at his son with awe and love. He was a father. Something he never thought he'd ever be. And when his son opened his eyes, those bright blue orbs stared into his soul. "Elias Ivarsson." He whispered. And Skylark smiled softly. "Its fitting." She replied. He looked back to her, a gentle look in his eyes as he leaned forward to capture her lips in his own softly. Freydis forgotten instantly in the presence of his first love and their new son.

He sat upon Ecbert's Throne with a glare at the man infront of him and his brothers. "Im just curious as to what you thought would happen by trying to keep my son from me?" He finally broke the shocked silence. But the man only sighed and rubbed his wrinkled and rough face. "Forgive me Ivar. But the things I've heard about you are not pleasant. Your hatred for us Saxons especially. You cannot blame me for wanting to protect my family." He said and Ivar went ridgid in his seat. "I would NEVER hurt them." He growled. "Yes. You say that. But your reputation says otherwise." Ecbert retorts. Ivars face went livid and Ubbe intervened. "Enough. What's done is done. Ivar you have a son now. And Ecbert's death looms. Let us focus on that huh?" Ivar said nothing but his glare said this was not over.

He walked slowly with her through camp, holding her arm in his as she winced at the movement, their son in her arms, two of his men carrying her trunk behind them. He was reluctant to make her do such exercise days after giving birth for fear of hurting her further, but his brothers had insisted they needed to move. So he had padded the floor of his chariot with a pile of furs and had her sit in the nook infront of his bench before they took off and traveled. He made sure she was well fed and watered and wanted for nothing as they made their way back to camp. The same for his son. And before they'd left he had ordered a few men to ride ahead and make sure Freydis was no longer in his tent when they arrived. For he realised now that her manipulative ways were not something he longed for anymore. The gods had given him a gift. And he wasn't going to spit on it. He gently led her into the large tent and helped her to sit down on the bed. "Rest now." He said watching her body weaken against the furs. "I'll be back soon." He kissed her forehead and his sons before exiting the tent once more.

"Ivar." The soft bell like voice of Freydis called out to him as he reclined on the Throne like chair. "Freydis. I am busy." He muttered annoyed with her presence. "My love. Too busy for me?" She asked as she climbed upon his lap. "Freydis. I have a son now. The gods have smiled upon me and gifted me with a son and a queen worthy of me. I do not have time for you and your manipulative ways any longer." He growled. She frowned. "Can you not take two wives my love? Surely the gods will not be mad that such a man as yourself should need two. You are more than worthy." She said peppering his jaw with kisses. "Freydis!" He shouted in anger and shoved her off his lap and to the stone floor. She let out a whimper as she hit the stone. "If you touch me one more time or make such comments again, I shall ensure your head on a spike to gift to my wife. Do I make myself clear?" He growled harshly. She looked up at him with shock and crocodile tears in her eyes. "But-" "No! And you are forbidden from ever entering kattegat! Do you hear me?! I will have you burned at the stake should you ever step foot in my kingdom! Now get out!" He roared. And she ran as if hel herself was biting at her heels. He let out a deep breath and calmed himself. He would not return to his wife and son angry. Especially not over some useless woman he cared nothing about.

She sat on the Throne beside him with a grace and gentleness that was glaring in compare to his lazy and arrogant form in his own Throne. He despised court. Truly. Most of these matters were common sense and intervention was not needed. And there was little more he hated than wasting his time and stupid people. And court only held both of those. Skylark placed a small hand on his arm and he looked over to her as she faced the men arguing over farmland. He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it as she smiled softly at him breifly before returning her attention to the matter at hand. "Ok. So then you will both split the land 50/50 between the two of you." She announced finality in her voice. "But my queen-" "Are you questioning your queens declaration?!" He growled. Silence before "No my king." The man answered both scared and deflated. "Then get out! You have been given your answer!" He said angrily and glared harshly, sending the men almost running out of the great hall. He sighed in annoyance. "My love. You must be patient." She soothed as she stroked his arm. "How can I be? These problems are problems children could solve! It's a waste of our time!" She smiled gently. "Oh? And what would you rather be doing then?" She asked. "Spending time with our son, you?" He gave her a wolfish grin and she laughed softly. "There is plenty of time for the former my love. As for your son I think he's too attached to his uncle Hvisterks side at the moment." She said and he rolled his eyes. Hvitserk had always been Elias' favorite uncle. Especially when Hvitserk took him out to play with the wooden swords and ride his horse. It's all he would go on about now at 5 years old. And Ivar couldn't help but to feel jealous of his brother. Elias was his son. But he wanted to spend time with Hvitserk instead. He would be lying if he said it didn't hurt that he couldnt do the things Hvitserk did with him. But he had to remind himself that the boy didn't know that. He only knew that with Hvitserk he had fun. And what little child didn't want to have fun all the time? He sighed. Skylark took her husband's hands in her own, noticing his deflation in mood. "My love. I have something that might cheer you." She said. "Hmm? What's that?" She smiled and brought a hand to her stomach and his eyes blew wide. "You mean it?! When?!" "This morning. The healers confirmed it. She said I'm about a month now." She smiled. He hooked a hand around her neck and pressed his lips to hers. "I love you. You know that?" Pressing his forehead against hers. "I thank the gods every day for you and Elias. And now this little one as well." She smiled as she gazed into his bright blue orbs. "I love you too." "You're mine." "Forever." She agreed with a serene smile.

The Heartbreak •Ivar The Boneless Modern AU•

Warning: ANGST!

She had met him through Sigurd. Sigurd was her producer for her music and was a good friend. She wished she had never agreed to attend a family party with Sigurd. She wished she never met HIM. Then her heart wouldn't be so broken and she wouldn't be so angry and hateful all the time. It truly wouldn't have been so bad an end to their relationship had he not have fucked HER behind her back whilst they were still together. If there was one thing she loathed it was cheaters. But she had been in love with him. And he swore he'd always felt the same until SHE came along. Freydis. Even thinking the name sent a surge of hatred and rage through her that she didn't know how to control. She hadn't thought anything of it when she moved in next to Ivar and Ivar became friendly. Super friendly. And Freydis was only too happy to flirt along with him. But she wasn't insecure and she had faith in her boyfriend not to cross a line he knew he couldn't come back from. What a mistake that was. No. But he started pulling away from her. Cancelling plans, not calling or texting, and she should've seen it as the giant red flag that it was. But she gave him his space. She knew Ivar wasn't good about showing affection or being consistent. It was something he said he was working on. But when Hvitserk posted those Instagram pictures and videos of Ivar and Freydis in the club after Ivar had canceled their date night because 'his legs hurt too bad.' Was when she withdrew. The truth had hit her in the face and she spent that night a sobbing mess in her bathroom with her new best friend smirnoff. She drank until she couldn't even think a coherent thought, and then she kept going. She was a mess the next morning. But she shut down completely when Sigurd showed up that morning with that stone faced look on his face and proceeded to Embrace her and hold her as if she was gonna disappear. That's when she knew something was truly wrong. She asked him what was going on and he simply showed her the screenshot of a text Ivar had sent to Hvitserk who then had sent it to Sigurd. "Freydis is pregnant. I'm gonna be a father." She had pushed Sigurd away from her and suddenly lashed out, throwing anything she could get her hands on and screaming in rage. Sigurd had stood silently and watched her let it all out until she had dissolved into heart wrenching sobs and then he has embraced her again and spent the rest of the night holding her as she silently withdrew into herself. And all the while, Ivar was radio silent.

It was a week later before her ex boyfriend had even attempted to make contact. She ignored all his attempts. 25 missed calls and a few texts asking to talk. The texts were what set her off. She sent him one last text. "Go fuck yourself. Hope she was worth it." And he had called a further 10 more times before he realized she wasn't going to answer and he just stopped altogether. From that day on he never tried to talk to her again and she proceeded to delete him and his family, save Sigurd who hated his guts just as much as she did, from all social media and blocked their numbers as well. She had trusted Ivar despite her hard time with trusting others and he took that trust and spit on it whilst ripping out her closely guarded heart and stomping on it until it was barely beating. Sigurd stayed by her side through her healing and helped her as best he could. But she went through truly dark times before she could even think about healing. She had developed a drinking problem which had resulted in Sigurd forcing her into rehab. And it had helped her immensely to see that she wasn't the problem. She wasn't the one that should be hurting. And so she took the step to attend therapy all the while Sigurd was cheering her on on the sidelines and she began to let out her rage in her music. Which topped the charts and only fueled her more. Her hurt had turned into her success. And whilst she was better now, still angry and hateful deep inside but no longer volatile, it had changed her. She guarded her heart even more, didn't trust anyone, didn't date, wasn't interested in relationships, she was done with love. It had scarred her too many times and Ivar was the last straw. And the media knew something bad had happened. They didn't know what. But they were great detectives. And it wasn't long after the whole ordeal that gossip sites and fans were talking about how her ex boyfriend had fucked another woman behind her back and gotten her pregnant. And she was right back into that depression when photos of the two backstabbers were posted along with the articles. Her shiny new ring and pregant belly were enough to undo the progress she had made. But Sigurd had quickly diverted their attention by announcing her nomination for a VMA at the upcoming award show a few months away, along with the news of a new album and an early release of one of the songs on that album. And that was enough to end the attention Freydis and Ivar were paid. And then they went to work on her again.

By the time the VMAs rolled around she had a solid grip on herself and her feelings and promised herself she would shed no more tears for the man that didn't deserve it. She had won that award and headed to the after party with Sigurd in high spirits. They had been there for a while before she saw him. Sigurd had tried his best to intercept him and Hvitserk before they both split off into the crowd and Ivar disappeared causing Sigurd to lose him. She turned her back to him after they met eyes and politely ordered a water from the bartender who passed her a glass of ice water with a smile as she tipped him. But Ivar hadn't gotten the hint clearly because he stood beside her and ordered a drink before turning his attention to her. "We need to talk." She scoffed as she took a large gulp of her drink. "No. We dont. You had your time to talk. You chose to fuck another woman instead. You've made your choices quite clear." She said and moved to walk away. He gripped her arm. "Please." She put a bright smile on and turned back around, taking him by surprise. "Ok Ivar. Talk. I'll entertain you this once because quite frankly I'm intrigued by what you could possibly say to me to make me want to even give you a bit of space in my brain for even a fleeting thought of you." He winced and opened his mouth. "Freydis is pregnant yes." "Well no shit. If she wasn't I'd be seeing a doctor asap." She rolled her eyes. "Please. She lied. It's not mine." She let out an amused laugh. "Lose them how you catch them eh?" He rubbed a hand down his face. "Lils-" "don't call me that. You lost that privilege. We are not friends. We are nothing. You made sure of that. Had you come to me and said that you no longer loved me rather than cheating on me, we maybe could've been. You have no one to blame but yourself Ivar. No one." She said sternly. She watched him deflate. "I DO love you." He said quietly. "You have a strange way of showing it. Let me make this clear, I feel NOTHING for you. Even my rage has depleted. You knew how hard it was to even give you a chance. You knew how guarded I was. And you not only begged me to give you a chance against my better judgment, you swore you would NEVER hurt me like others did. You swore you weren't that person. And then you did EXACTLY what you swore to me you wouldn't. You tore my heart from my chest after you mended it and you spit on it and stomped on it until it was dead. And the worst part was you didn't even have the balls to tell me what you did yourself. Sigurd did. You waited a WEEK after what you did to even bother to call me. You are nothing to me Ivar. You brought the worst out in me after that. And I have overcome all the demons and darkness that you left me with. So you don't get to come to me now that I'm finally better and moved on and pretend that what you did wasn't the worst thing anyone could do to someone they claimed to love and try and gain my sympathy that your situation didn't work out for you. You don't deserve it. Do not call me. Do not text me. Do not even look at me. Do you understand me? I want nothing to do with you. Go find someone else to fuck over." She said and slammed her glass on the bar beside him before pulling her arm from his grip and storming off towards Sigurd. She felt a weight come off her shoulders. There it was. The closure she needed. She said all she had been wanting to. All that had been bottled up. And it was time to wash her hands of it. "You ok?" Sigurd asked worried. But a dazzling smile overtook his best friends face and he relaxed, returning a small one. "Better than OK. Let get out of here and go get some greasy food from a sketchy place that will end up being the best thing we've ever tasted." He chuckled and offered his arm which she immediately took. "Sold. Let's go." Back at the bar Hvitserk patted a teary eyed Ivar. "You'll always be my brother but you fucked up big time and there's no coming back from it." He said softly. Ivar quickly wiped the falling tears and gave a stiff nod.

Broken •Ivar The Boneless Modern AU•

WARNINGS: angst, Mentions of suicide attempts, mental illnesses, abandonment, psych wards, semi happy ending on this one boys. Sorry. I had to do it to ya! I love torturing myself and you guys!

She was 8 when her father married Aslaug. It hadn't been easy for her to get used to the combined household. And Ivar didn't make it any easier on her. Her other step brothers were nice and comforting to her, even Sigurd. But not Ivar. He was mean and went out of his way to make her existence miserable. But he wasn't the catalyst or even the reason for why she did what she did when she was 16. No one knew the answer to that question still. And it had been years. But Ivar remembered it as if it was yesterday. Because he'd been the one the find her. And that image was something he'd never get out of his mind. He would live with that trauma forever.

Ivar pushed the front door open already annoyed as he could hear the metal music thumping from outside. And it assaulted his ears as he entered and slammed the door behind him. It was turned onto max volume and he couldn't even hear himself think. "ZORA!" He screamed enraged. But it didn't carry over the music. She had skipped school that morning. And he'd known because Aslaug had been informed by the school. He was a senior whilst she was a sophomore and so he'd been excused per Aslaugs request so he could go home and ensure everything was alright because Zora wasn't answering her phone or the home phone. And Aslaug was worried. He resented Zora. She was always pulling some dumb shit and worrying his mother or upsetting her and he was done with her shit. This was the last straw. Now it was interfering with his own life and he refused to let it continue. He stormed up the stairs, albeit slowly since his braces limited his leg movement and his legs were rather weak. But he reached the landing and stormed into her bedroom, shutting off the music and growling when she wasn't present. He banged on her bathroom door. "ZORA! you better fucking get your shit together! You hear me?! I'm tired of your bullshit! And it's starting to fuck up my life!" But there was no answer. And that only enraged him more. He gripped the handle and tried to turn it only to discover it to be locked. "Stop being a bitch and open the fucking door Zora! I'm tired of you! You hear me?!" But more silence followed and his anger began to receed and worry replaced it. "Zora?! Open the fucking door!" He banged one more time. No answer. He took a deep breath and began slamming his shoulder into the door. It finally splintered and gave way. He stumbled in and immediately his breath left him as his stomach began to turn. There she laid on the floor in a heap, empty pill bottles scattered around her along with one of her father's expensive bottles of Whiskey almost emptied as well. "Zora!" He stumbled towards her, ignoring the pain in his legs as he heaved her limp body up and against his chest. "Hey! Hey! Zora!" He slapped her cheek but she still gave no answer. "Fuck!" He yelled and dragged her to the shower, falling back into the tub with her against his front. He turned the knobs of the shower, freezing water cascading from the shower head and drenching the both of them. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone, thankful for the waterproof case on it and dialed 911.

Ubbe rushed up to the front of the house where Ivar paced by the front door, soaked with water as the paramedics worked on Zora upstairs where he'd left them. "What the hell happened?!" Ubbe asked worried. "I dont know. Mom called the school and asked me to leave to check on her since she'd never went this morning. I came home and she had her music turned all the way up and the bathroom was locked. She wasn't answering so I forced the door open and she was just laying there on the floor surrounded by pill bottles and a whisky bottle. She wouldn't wake up." His voice broke amd tears swam in his eyes as he recounted what he found to Ubbe. His brother pulled him into a hug and held him tight. "Its gonna be ok Ivar." He only sobbed quietly into his brother. Ubbe didn't let go. Not when the paramedics wheeled Zora down the stairs on the stretcher or when they slammed the doors to the ambulance shut and sped off with her to the hospital.

Aslaug had been beside herself with worry and grief. No one knew why Zora did what she did. And it was a shock to everyone. Zora had always been happy and sarcastic. Never once did she elude to being unhappy or even in pain. Her father had made the hard decision to send Zora to an outpatient program for treatment. He loved her with all he had in him and he couldn't bare a repeat of the recent events. She'd been gone from the home for 8 months before coming home again. And she truly seemed better. She seemed sorry for what she'd tried to do. And made the effort to get better and stay better. Going to therapy. Taking her medications and following the rules given to her in order to stay at home. Which were no sharp things, no unattended medications or alcohol, and monitored constantly. And Ivar even made the attempt to befriend her. His attitude towards her was better. He was gentle and nice and made it clear that if she ever needed to talk he was there. No matter what. They became closer. Even inseparable.

Maybe that's why it hurt so much when Freydis came along a couple years later into her adulthood and he abandoned her. But she kept her head up and continued on her path to betterment. Until one night when she spiraled and all that pain in her chest was too overwhelming. She had tried to call Ivar multiple times as she sobbed and tried to resist the dark thoughts that invaded her mind and took over. It had been her last ditch effort to stop herself and get help. To cry out that she was no ok and that she was scared of what she was going to do if left alone with her thoughts. But he'd ignored every. Single. One. He was annoyed by her calls and finally ended up turning off his phone completely when it was clear she wouldn't stop calling. He had been with Freydis on a date and he wanted no distractions. He would call her back later. He would regret that decision deeply once he'd turned his phone back on to dozens of texts and calls from his mother and brothers.

"Ivar!" His brothers frantic voice met his ears after picking up on the second ring. His heart dropped into his stomach immediately. Bjorn was never this worried or scared. "What? What happened?" He asked quietly. Almost frightened of the answer. "Its Zora! She tried to kill herself again!" He said urgently. "What?" He whispered. And suddenly he thought back to all those calls he'd ignored earlier and guilt set heavily in his chest. He suddenly felt dizzy and had to grip the chair infront of him before rounding it and falling into it. He rubbed a hand down his face roughly. "H-how is she?" He asked. "We don't know. They won't let us back with her. They said that given her history she will most likely be sent to another program again." He sighed through the phone. Ivar couldn't get over the guilt. "I-i did this." He said upset. "How ivar? Did you force her to swallow those pills?" "No. But I ignored her. She tried to call. Several times. I ignored them. I was annoyed because I was on a date with Freydis. I should've answered. I should've known something was wrong. She never calls.." there was silence on the other end and he closed his eyes as tears escaped. "No ivar. It's not your fault. She made her choices." Bjorn finally replied. "I gotta go. She's at kattegat General if you want to come. If not, that's OK too. Get some rest ok? It's not your fault." And then the line went dead. There was silence for a few minutes before ivar let out a roar of rage and began to destroy his apartment.

When she'd gotten back from the program ivar forced her to move in with him. She said she didn't want to be a burden to anyone but he called bullshit and said she clearly couldn't be trusted on her own. And she had gone silent and allowed him to began packing her things. And it had worked out for the both of them. He monitored her and she was getting better. She kept mostly to herself in her room and he was fine with that. He had always known she was introverted. And it worked for the best when Freydis would come over. But things went south quickly when he'd found out Freydis was cheating on him. And when he'd asked her why she'd said that his relationship with Zora as a caretaker was too much for her. That he gave her too much attention as if she would break at any second. He had quickly told her to get out. To delete his shit and never contact him again. And she had done so without any argument. His love for her had grown to hatred the moment she'd tried to blame her actions on Zora. He was devastated at first. Freydis had been what he'd considered to be his first true love. And Zora was right by his side through his mourning. She didn't judge him or say anything. Just sat quietly and let him rant to her or watched TV with him. She didn't tell him that she'd heard everything that night. She didn't tell him that she knew she was the reason for his break up. And she didn't tell him about the guilt she harbored because of it. And that was only strike one for her. Strike two had been in the form of Katia. She was nice, she looked exactly like Freydis, she made him happy for the first time since Freydis. Zora made it a habit to make herself scarce whenever Katia was around, not wanting a repeat of the Freydis situation. And it worked. But Katia and Ivar broke up a short time later, both citing that they just didn't see it going anywhere. And whilst Katia had said that that was the reason, she had also mentioned Zora. Said that it was awkward to return to his apartment for private time knowing his sister was across the hall in her room where she rarely left. And Zora began to feel an even bigger ball of guilt form. This was the second of Ivars relationships she'd indirectly ruined. She had told him the next week that she was moving out. And whilst he tried to protest and argue, she refused to budge and he let her go. He shouldn't have let her go. He would do anything in his power to take it back. To force her to stay. Gods. He would. Because strike three had been when her father and Aslaug had been killed in an accident. It was sudden. And it was no one's fault. The two of them had been driving home in a storm and the car slid off the road and flipped after hitting a particular wet patch and sliding suddenly without warning. They both had been killed instantly. Everyone had been devastated. But not Zora. Or so it seemed. But he knew better. He knew she put up walls and pretended. He had tried his hardest to stay close to her. He called her every night to check on her and make sure she was OK. Especially after the funerals. And she put on a good show. Even he was finding himself falling for it at times. And he really should've known something was wrong that night when she didn't answer immediately like she always did. He always called at the same time. There was no excuse. But he let himself believe she was just busy.

She pushed the car harder, faster as it rounded the bend. Ivar had called. She ignored it initially as she gulped down the alcohol that she'd been drinking as she pushed her foot down on the gas, listening to the metal music blaring through the speakers of the sports car. But she faltered and sighed, pressing the callback button. He answered on the first ring. "Hey! You ok? You usually answer." She smiled sadly as tears slipped down her cheeks. "Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. I was in the other room for a minute and missed it. Times been fast today." She said dejected. Silence and then. "Zora? Are you OK? Be honest with me. You sound.." she laughed sadly. "Yeah ivar. I'm ok. More than OK. Hey. I want you to promise me something ok?" He frowned. She wasn't making any sense. And he was growing worried. "Yes. Anything." "Ok. Promise me you won't be mad ok? You'll be ok. You won't be sad all your life ok? Promise." Ivar could hear his heartbeat rushing in his ears. "Zora. Where are you? Don't do anything stupid. I'll come get you! Please just whatever you're doing or thinking of doing, don't!" "I love you Ivar." She whispered before hanging up. He slammed his fist into the counter "FUCK!" He dialed Ubbe and quickly let him know what was going on before grabbing his keys and rushing from his apartment and to hers. But it was empty. And her car keys were gone. And he felt the cold feeling of dread settle in. And he knew this time she wasn't coming home. And she knew it to as she jerked the wheel on the next turn forcing the car through the guard rail and off the cliff, into the freezing waters below.

He was the last one standing at the grave site. He clenched the rose in his fist and glared at the shiny headstone. "I know I promised. But I am utterly Enraged with you right now Zora. How could you do this to us? To me? We lost Ma and now you? How many people have to suffer just because you were hurting? You could've said something to me! I would've done whatever I needed to! You knew that!" His voice broke and tears dripped down his cheeks. "I hate you Zora! I hate you!" He sobbed quietly. His emotions taking over. He threw the rose down and stormed off just as the rain broke the sky.

"Careful Igor! Wait for me!" Ivar called out to his son who ran ahead of him and fell down infront of the headstone. "Hello Aunty Zora! Happy birthday! I brought you a flower I picked from the backyard!" The boy said happily and set it carefully down on the headstone. "Igor. You must be more careful. What if you'd have fallen and hurt yourself?" Ivar scolded. "Sorry! I just wanted to get to Aunty Zora faster! To show her my surprise!" He pouted. Ivar sighed and relented. "Ok. Just be more careful ok? I don't think she'd want you to hurt yourself over her." Igor nodded happily. "Ill be right back I forgot MY flower in the car. Dont move." He turned and walked back the way they came. "Man. Tell him he should wrap you in bubble wrap then eh?" Igor's eyes lit up at the woman sitting infront of him. "Aunty Zora!" He breathed. The woman smiled back at him. "Hello little moon. How have you both been?" "We've been ok aunty Zora. But dad's been seeing this new woman. Ingrid. She's really nice. And she likes me. So dad says she's a keeper. But he's also really wary that she'll end up leaving." "Mmm. Tell your dad to lighten up. Not every woman is like Freydis hmm? If she likes you and hasn't run yet. That's a good sign. I have to go soon little moon." She sighed. "So soon? You just got here. He frowned. "Unfortunately I don't have the energy to keep this up. And I only get special privileges on my birthday. You know this. Tell your dad I love him ok? And I love you too. I'll see you next time little moon!" "I love you too aunty Zora!" He watched her disappear. "Who were you talking to?" Ivar said as he carefully kneeled next to Igor. "Aunty Zora said she loves you and that you should give Ingrid a chance." Ivar snapped his head to Igor and felt as if the breath was knocked out of him suddenly. "Z-zora was...?" Tears welled in his eyes as he looked back at the headstone. "She comes sometimes. Only on her birthday. She says the gods give her special privileges only on her birthday. So she uses them to visit us." He said happily and Ivar closed his eyes, tears dripping down his cheeks. "She also said that you might as well wrap me in bubble wrap at this point." He let out a laugh at that. "Yeah. That's something she'd definitely say." He said sadly. "Don't cry daddy. She wouldn't want that. She's always watching. She said grandma and grandpa are as well but they don't visit because you're at peace with them being gone." He frowned. It was true. He had gotten over his mother and fathers deaths. But Zoras was the hardest. He always felt that guilt deep within him that said he could've done something. Igor patted his back. "Its not your fault. She said so." He collapsed at that, sobbing so violently at the relief that flooded him. The weight that lifted off him was immense. It wasnt his fault. There was nothing he could do. She'd said so. Igor only consoled his father until he'd calmed. "Come Igor. We will come back next week. I think we both need to talk about your....abilities hmm?" He asked with a watery smile, placing the rose on the headstone and using it to stand up. Igor beamed as he got up too. "You mean the ghosts?" "There are more?!" He asked surprised as they made their way back to the car. "Mmhmm. There's an old man over there! He's playing with his dog! The dogs name is Sammy! And he loves his favorite ball!" Ivar groaned. "Ghost dog with a favorite ball. Lovely." Igor giggled.

Targaryen takeover •Ivar The Boneless•

When the guard had burst into the dining hall yelling about an army of men and women breaching the shores of Dragonstone they hadn't been too concerned. When asked what banners flew on these ships the guard had said that he did not recognize them and that the ships had been oddly shaped. Daemon had snorted and stood, pulling dark sister from its scabbard and motioning for the guard to show him. The two had left the dining hall to find a window to look out of and Rhaenyra and her children had followed. When they did finally gaze upon the ships they were indeed odd. They weren't ships. More like giant boats. With bright colored sheilds lining the sides of each and long oars coming from small windows to manually propell them and serpents with open mouths open in a roar carved in the front and back. And the people were dressed oddly in leather and chainmail, carrying colorful Shields and axes, swords, and Warhammers. They were easily slaughtering the small army dragonstone boasted as they disappeared into the courtyards below the Keep. Daemon turned to his family with a grin on his face. "I have never seen anything like these people. But I have heard stories. Vikings they are called. They sail to any land they can and they plunder and conquor. Which means they don't know about us or our Dragons." Rhaenyra was a bit more worried. "What do we do?" Daemon just grinned wider. "We give them a fight. We show them they have severely underestimated us. Mount your Dragons. Its time for a battle." He said.

Ivar had been the first one to enter the courtyard, crawling on the ground and taking out the few soldiers that were there before sitting against an abandoned wagon. Blood covered his face and he clapped his hand against his bloodied axe in madness as more came rushing at him. "Do you know who I am?! I am Ivar the Boneless! You can't kill me!" He threw one of his axes and it lodged itself into a nearby soldier. The group moved forward but froze at the overhead roar that was heard along with the sharp sound of great flapping wings. The soldier in the front only smirked at the cripple before he began to back away, his men following. Ivar didn't know what was happening. And before he could move an inch, a hulking shadow flew overhead and another roar was heard, deafening him as he finally looked up just as a great horned white dragon landed a few feet infront of him. He didn't get to register what was happening before the beast opened its maw and roared into his face, hot breath fanning his entire body.

Saelerys was more than happy to oblige when Daemon had told her to land her dragon in the courtyard because he was the smallest and could fit. Overhead she could see one lone viking leaning against an abandoned cart. She guided Centurion towards where she wanted him and the great beast gave a roar to alert their knights to get out of the way. Once they were she wasted no time in landing in front of him. Allowing Centurion to roar in the vikings face. When Centurion closed his maw and leaned his spiked head down so she could see, she was met with a bloody face in clear shock. The first thing she noticed is how handsome he was. Even covered in blood and wounds. The second was that both his legs were strapped together with a bunch of buckles. She furrowed her brows and frowned as she tried to work out why. But she didn't get very far before her attention was pulled from him and to the left of the courtyard where vikings began to pour into the open space. Centurion straightened up and let out a low rumble which seemed to catch the leaders attention. He stopped dead in his tracks and so did the others. He looked truly terrified of the scene in front of him. Which would make sense if what Daemon said was true about these people not knowing about Dragons. She stared the man down as Centurion began to back away from the one on the ground, his large feet causing the ground to rumble beneath him. He swished his spiked tail and it hit a bridge behind him, causing a divet and rubble to rain down. She held tight to his saddle and watched the way they all quickly lost confidence and realized how big of a mistake they made as her family came into view above them, caraxes dwarfing all of the other Dragons with his massive size, making them all look like babies compared to him. "Surrender or die by dragonfire. Your choice." She called down to them. It took a few seconds before they began throwing down their weapons. "Seize them all!" Daemon called down from above and the remaining knights moved in quickly, grabbing everyone they could. As one stepped forward to the man still on the ground she spoke "Not that one." The knight looked at her before giving a nod and moving off to help his fellow soldiers. The man looked at her in what she would swear was awe. "You will be coming with me." She undid the straps that held her legs in the saddle and slid down Centurions great wing. When her feet hit the ground she turned to the dragon and caressed his giant face. "Good boy." It nuzzled into her touch and huffed through its nostrils before blinking its great eyes at her and taking to the sky again when she stepped back. She turned to the man. "Welcome to dragonstone, Viking." She said sarcastically.

"I'm curious. What prompted you to decide to raid Dragonstone?" Daemon asked the man, who was now propped up in a chair in the war room, as he popped a grape into his own mouth, his dinner having been interrupted. Her mother was behind Daemon, ever the regal and stoic vision. Saelerys was on the left of the man gripping the war table and leaning forward, removing red peices and leaving the amount that now made up their army numbers. The man said nothing but continued to glare at Daemon. But Daemon just chuckled like it amused him. "You know, I like you. You're much like me. I admire the confidence and bravery. I do. But unlike me, you don't have legs that can help you escape your current prison. And I'm not a patient person. So if you'd like to keep the use of your other limbs, I would start talking." The man seemed to contemplate before he answered in a heavily accented voice. "We were told of a place. Westeros they called it. They said there was treasure beyond our wildest dreams. And that if we could conquor it, we'd be powerful. In charge. Of all of it." Daemon gave a thoughtful look. "This person was right. However they missed one tiny detail. Can you guess?" He glared at her uncle. "The flying beasts." Daemond nodded in fake enthusiasm. "Yes! Dragons! That's correct! And do you know something else?" Silence. "Only our family, the targaryens, the Velaryons, can tame these Dragons. Can ride them and command them. And can you guess who sits that Throne you seek?" More silence. "Yes. Targaryens. And there's far more Dragons where you were headed. Dragons bigger than what you just saw. Hundreds of years old. They have known war and wiped out entire civilizations. So I would say whoever gave you this information either wanted you to die on this adventure of yours or they were just stupid." The man clenched his fists. "Now, what do they call you?" Daemon asked. "I am Ivar the Boneless." He said proudly. Daemon raised a brow and smirked amused. "Clever." He mused. "So Ivar the Boneless, who gave you this information?" Saelerys knew what Daemon would do with this information. They would go to war with whoever it was.

She watched the vikings get back onto their ships and their men load onto their own ships, all flying the targaryen banner with the red 3 headed dragon. Her grandsire had been alerted to the threat and had agreed it needed to be dealt with swiftly. He had sent men of his own to meet them on dragonstone, flying the green 3 headed dragon banners. Daemon had offered the Vikings a treaty. They both now had a common enemy. Work with us to take them down and we let you go free. You may return to dragonstone if you wish in the future and you may call upon us for help just as we may do to you. In exchange you will leave westeros out of your ambitions of conquering and plundering. Ivar the Boneless had agreed almost instantly. It was too good of a deal to pass up. He wasn't stupid. And so his people and brother were freed from the dungeons and taught how to fight side by side with the Dragons and the knights. Hvitserk had been untrusting and hesitant at first but he quickly learned that Targaryens kept their word. He started to relax once he'd seen his brother be fit for new leg braces, courtesy of Rhaenyra. She had seen him crawling around and had asked if that's how he always traveled. He had told her about his previous leg braces that had been lost at sea and she had ordered a new pair be made from the finest velarion steel. Both Ivar and Hvitserk had been shocked at her generosity and friendliness. But they both had come to know that this was the way they were. The only time they were anything but was in the face of a threat it seemed.

Everyone was loaded and ready to set sail. Except Ivar and Hvitserk. The two had been given an opportunity they couldn't pass up. And that was to travel on the backs of Dragons. They had gladly put Floki in charge of the boats and had stayed on land as they set sail. They watched Daemon and the Velaryon siblings say their farewells to Rhaenyra, who wouldn't be joining as someone needed to stay in Dragonstone before they began the walk to the dragon pits.

The dragon pits were warm and dark. The grumbles of the Dragons filling the silence. The brothers watched as dragons were led out one by one on long chains, like loyal dogs. Watched as each rider mounted their respective dragon, as their chains removed and the beasts calmly walked from the pit and into the open salty air before they took flight. Before long it was their turn. Hvitserk would be riding with Lucerys. The youngest of the Velaryon children. He was skeptical at first, a child controlling that huge beast thousands of miles in the air? But he had watched the two interact and it was clear that not only did they have a bond, but his dragon, Arrax, was an extension of himself. So he climbed onto the dragon after the boy, stumbling a bit and struggling at first to pull himself up but once he did, Lucerys reached down to buckle Hvitserks legs into the saddle. He trusted Arrax. He didn't need them. They were off before they knew it. "SOVETES ARRAX!" And Arrax obeyed, climbing steadily into the sky, Hvitserk letting out a yell of surprise. And then it was Ivar and Saelerys turn. She mounted Centurion and settled herself before being handed both Ivars braces and his crutch, his weapons and sheild having been already attached to Centurion earlier. She moved to secure them tightly so they would even move as they flew. And then she made Centurion get on his belly before she leaned down and took Ivars hands in her own and pulled him up whilst the dragon masters pushed him up from his legs, carefully as to not break any bones. Once he was settled she strapped his legs into the saddle and ordered Centurion to fly. "SOVETES CENTURION!" And he did.

Ivar had never felt better in his life. The wind on his face and the slight jerking of the beasts body beneath him as it flew and swooped down so they were right over top of his viking ships. He looked down at them and caught Flokis eye as the man laughed like mad seeing Ivar flying. He'd never felt this free in his entire life.

King Harald didn't know what had hit him. They had come at night. And since Herald hadn't known he wad being marched against, he hadn't been prepared. The foot soldiers breeched the land first. And they fought majority of the soldiers that were sent out to meet them. But once the Dragons had revealed themselves, most of his men refused to fight, dropping their weapons and fleeing the dragon flame as it scorched the land as they flew overhead. King Herald himself had tried to flee. But Hvitserk had caught him before he had hit the Woodline. He was forced on his knees infront of Daemon, caraxes behind him. "You are the one that sent them to westeros?" He asked. He could see it register on Heralds face. "Hmm." Daemon hummed knowing his answer. "Tell me, did you send them knowing about us?" Herald glared into his eyes. "Yes." Ivar cursed and began to move forward but Saelerys placed a hand on his shoulder. A silent warning. Let Daemon handle it. You will have your turn. He swallowed hard but stayed still. "And what did you hope would happen?" "They would do the work to conquer westeros and I'd wipe them out and take it for myself, or they'd be roasted. Either way they would be out of my way." He spit. Daemon laughed. "And how did that work out for you eh?" Herald said nothing as Daemon backed away. "Hes all yours. He's not worth my dragons breath." He said. Hvitserk dragged him up and between two posts in the ground and began tying his arms and legs to each post.

"So that is called a blood eagle?" Saelerys asked Ivar curiously from her spot standing next to him, watching the punishment. "Yes. It is because with his lungs pulled out that way he looks as if he has eagle wings." He explained. She nodded. "I see." He turned to her. She was quite beautiful. With her silver hair and Lilac eyes, Pale Skin and full lips. But he was a cripple. No one that beautiful and powerful could ever love someone like him. He'd heard it all his life. So he put his walls back up.

After a few nights in camp they decided to make their way back to Kattegat. And the Targaryens decided to follow. "When in strange lands.." Daemon had said. Ivar had once again decided to travel on Dragon, loving the feeling of freedom. But Hvitserk had decided to go by boat, citing that it wasn't for him. And by the look of his green face when they'd landed the first time he had to agree. He could see the crowd waiting up ahead on the docks as their ships docked first with the targaryen ships docking last.

Hvitserk was met by his mother as he stepped off the ship and onto the docks of kattegat. She immediately embraced him, having been worried about him as she'd dreamt of him and Ivar fighting and dragons. She thought the dragons had been a symbolic imagery. That is until: "where is Ivar Hvitserk?" She asked worried because she didn't see him anywhere. He pointed up "up there." She wanted to question it more when everyone around her began yelling and fleeing as giant shadows dwarfed the docks. She looked up. And to her shock not only where the dragons real, but there was her crippled son on the back of one them. And he seemed to be having the time of his life.

Some of the Vikings helped Ivar dismount the dragon, as Saelerys began to unpack his braces and crutch. Once he was set on the ground, she haded the braces to him and watched him quickly attach them. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up, handing him the crutch. He towered over her when he was upright. But she didn't mind. She turned and unpacked his sheild and axe and held them as he turned to greet his mother. "Ivar! I was so worried!" She embraced him immediately. "I am fine mother. Saelerys has ensured it." His mother gave him a questioning look and he gestured to the woman behind him, muttering to the dragon. She observed the girl. She was unusual. They all were. The targaryens. With their silver hair, Lilac eyes, and pale skin. But also because of their ability to tame dragons. She had respect for them. She admired them. And she owed them. For bringing back her sons safe and sound. For not killing them when they had the chance. For helping her sons exact revenge against Herald for his betrayal. "Please. Stay and feast with us tonight. We must celebrate." She said sincerely and Daemon inclined his head in agreement.

Saelerys had been amused with how the vikings celebrated. She had watched them drink and dance and carry on. It was so very free. Not at all like the stuffy balls the royalty and nobility of westeros held. But she had left a few minutes ago to get some air. So here she was on the beach, listening to the water lap at the sands in thought. But she was joined by someone else and as she heard the sound of the crutch hitting the sand, she knew it was Ivar. "Are you not enjoying yourself?" "I am. I just needed to get away for a minute to think." He studied her. She looked glorious in the moonlight. "Why did you not go off with some girl like your brothers?" She asked and he tensed. "I'm a cripple." He said like it was obvious, with an edge in his voice. She looked at him. "So?" He furrowed his brows. "So women do not want to be seen with a cripple." She frowned. "Thats a stupid reason." He widened his eyes. "Don't tell me your people are so fickle?" She asked seeing his surprise. "You are just as good as any other warrior if not better. I do not understand..?" She said. "I cant exactly please a woman.." He said quietly. "Oh. Well that is no matter. You do not need such an appendage to please a woman. There are plenty of other ways." She supplied like it was common knowledge and he knew in that moment that he was in love with her. "I-" He closed his mouth in shock. "Im sorry I shouldn't speak so vulgar. Forgive me Ivar." "No. It's alright. You are right." She smiled and turned back to the moon. They were silent for a moment before "Would you like me to show you?" Yes. He very much would.

The next morning saw the two of them much closer than usual which raised suspicions in everyone around them. And no one said anything until Ivar began to smile. A genuine smile at something she said. "Alright! What is going on?" Hvitserk asked the two of them, dropping his spoon. And everyone turned to them. Saelerys turned red and Ivar shrugged. "We have decided to court one another." Daemon snorted and Aslaug smiled. Hvitserk looked at the two of them with an open mouth in shock. No one said a word. And then "So...who's gonna tell your mother?" It would indeed be Daemon who would tell Rhaenyra why her daughter had not returned to Dragonstone with everyone else.

The sister •Ivar The Boneless•

Ivar walked side by side with Katia through the markets of Kiev silently as she smiled and greeted each and every merchant she passed with her breathtaking smile. He had been obsessed with her from the moment he'd laid his eyes on her. She looked exactly like Freydis had. But there was a clear difference. Where there was manipulation and obsession in Freydis, there was Geniune love and admiration in Katia. She told him the truth always. Even when it was something he didn't want to hear. And whilst he knew that Katia did not love him, she'd told him so on many occasions, she did treat him with such. And it only kept him captivated with her. And whilst Oleg was annoyed with Ivar's attentions to his wife, he was also a wise man and knew that it only kept him by his side. So he allowed it begrudgingly. And Katia enjoyed Ivar's touch and love. It was gentle and all consuming. Unlike Oleg's rough taking whenever and wherever he'd like. He treated Katia like property and a means to and end. Ivar treated her like a Goddess and worshipped the very land she walked on. So she was a selfish creature who continued to indulge. But as they rounded the corner into the town square, her eyes zeroed in on the two figures in the middle of the crowd surrounding them, swords clashing as they tangled themselves in mock battle. She stopped frozen in shock and Ivar only furrowed his brows as he stopped beside her. "Something the matter?" He asked. She took a deep breath and composed herself quickly, that serene smile finding its home back on her face. "No. No. Just surprised as all." She said still watching the two figures as the small one ducked under the larger ones sword at the last moment and swept their foot under the others, sending them flying into the dirt with a yell of pain and sending their sword flying out of reach. the small one pounced onto their opponents back, holding a dagger to the large ones throat and muttering something quickly causing them to cry out as their head was yanked back by the hair so the dagger had a clear place to rest at their throat. "I yield!" The small one let go roughly and jumped up, grabbing the discarded sword and sheathing it quickly as the gathered crowd cheered loudly. "You know them?" Katia gave him a coy look before making her way over to them. He followed after, the thumping of his crutch alerting the crowd who quickly parted for the two. "Sister!" Katia greeted happily and threw her arms around the woman who tensed under the touch as if it personally burned her. "Katia." She said stiffly. Katia only giggled as she pulled away. "Im sorry. I forgot you do not like to be embraced. It's been such a long time." The woman only gave a stiff nod and eyed Ivar who stood side by side with Katia as her equal. "This is Ivar Ragnarsson. He is Oleg's special guest here in Kiev." She said placing a gentle hand on Ivar's arm which made him blush instantly. The woman narrowed her eyes at the action and gave him a stiff nod as well. "Ivar, this is my little sister Tatiana." He nodded back at her studying her. She was Lithe and muscled slightly. Still nothing like the sheildmaidens back home. She was quite small and short. Her hair was raven black like Katia's but as the sun shined on it, it had almost a blue hue to it, her eyes were a Grey like a winter sky, rather than blue like Katia's and she had a wary air about her. As if always on alert. She was truly like nothing he'd ever seen before. And he could feel a stirring of something within him.

As Ivar walked with Igor to the great hall for dinner, the boy talked with his puppets about anything and everything and Ivar laughed along with him at his impression of Oleg. But the puppets were quickly forgotten once they turned the corner and Igor spotted Tatiana. He threw them down and ran towards her with vigor. "TATI!" He yelled as he barreled into her at high speed causing her to grunt. He wrapped his arms around her middle and crushed himself to her despite them almost being the same height. She quickly wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Igor." She said softly. "I missed you!" The boy whined, almost sniffling as the fat tears rolled down his cheeks. "Shh. You're alright Igor. I'm here. And I've missed you too." She said soothingly. Ivar watched the two of them with a softeness in his eyes. He loved Igor as a son. And seeing him so affected by someone else was heartening to him. Igor had been stuck to him since they'd met. He'd been the only one the boy felt comfortable with. The only one he said he'd loved. And now he had someone else on his side. And Ivar was happy for the boy. It was clear he could trust Tatiana. And he debated telling Tatiana his plan now that he was witnessing what he was seeing. He tensed as Oleg entered and sneered at the scene. "Sit down boy! And stop your sniveling! You are a man! Act like one!" He shouted loudly. Which only caused Igors sniffles to turn to sobs as he clutched at Tatiana even harder. Which sent Oleg into a rage. He stormed over with his hand raised as to hit Igor but before Ivar could open his mouth, Igor was behind Tatiana, who's sword was now out and held to Olegs throat as he glared down into her eyes and swallowed thickly. Katia stood in the corner and watched the two of them face off with a look of worry on her face. She and Ivar locked eyes for only a few seconds in which she silently asked him to intervene. He took a step forward and Igor rushed to him, clutching onto his arm not holding his crutch, like it was a lifeline. "You dare to disrespect me in my own home Tatiana Volkov?" He spit. A smirk passed over the woman's lips. "I do. Oleg of Kiev. You will not touch another hair on that boys head as long as I live." "Things can be arranged." Oleg said nastily. Ivar quickly cleared his throat and Oleg backed up still eyeing the woman. She sheathed her sword and gave him one last glare before turning and stalking from the room. Oleg then turned his rage filled eyes towards Ivar and Igor. "Come. Dinner is served." He proclaimed before sitting down at the table. It was another moment before anyone else dared to move.

He watched her cut down man after man on the battle field with vigor, never slowing, never tiring, as if it was the easiest thing she'd ever been tasked with. If her steel armor did anything to slow her down, she didn't show it. She moved as if it weighed nothing even though he knew it was hefty and knew even the strongest of his men would complain about the load on their bodies. Blood ran down the shiny surfaces like rain dribbling off the leaves of the trees, only leaving a slight discoloration behind. Her black hair flew in the air with every move and force of strike from its high ponytail, the hair on the top of her scalp braided in to two wave like patterns, disappearing beneath the leather strap that held the rest of the straight and loose hair together as it spilled down her back. No one dared to come near Ivar on the battlefield, giving him a wide berth and choosing to fight his allies instead. A few brave men would approach and be quickly dispatched from the land of the living. Oleg was losing. And quickly. Anyone with eyes could see that. And the coward he was, he refused to fight with his army, preferring instead to sit upon his horse on top of a hill and watch the battle instead. And he could tell the man was not happy at all. It wasnt long before three horns in quick sucession were blown. The call to retreat. And the fighting ubruplty stopped, what was left of the Rus army retreating back the way they came. This time when he looked back at Tatiana, their eyes met. They regarded each other silently before Tatiana nodded at him and moved to disappear into their own army of men. She was truly a valkyrie.

That night when they'd come to the gates of Kiev, they were met with a single soldier. Swords were drawn but the man simply opened the gate and welcomed the army into their walls. His guard was up and so was Tatiana's. The two of them leading the army into the town's square where people were gathered and looking up at a tower to where Oleg stood, drunk and delivering a speech about God and loving thy neighbor. He scoffed loudly and Tatiana tightened her hold on her sword. Igor stepped beside the two of them and looked up at his uncle and his oppressor with a look of fear. Ivar handed him a bow and arrow after seeing it. "Its time for you to stop being a cripple. Eliminate that which holds you back." He said. Igor notched the bow and pulled the string back, suddenly calm. Oleg caught sight of him and called out. "NO! Igor! Not you!" But Igor only took a deep breath to steady himself and muttered "I am sorry." Before letting the arrow fly. It whizzed through the air and hit its Target, Olegs heart. And they watched as he gasped before collapsing. Tatiana gripped the boys shoulder in comfort and Ivar patted his back. Between the two of them, he stood strong and tall.

Katia watched the two of them from across the hall. Laughing and telling eachother tales of battle and drinking deeply from silver goblets of wine and ale. She smiled. She couldn't be happier seeing the two of them as close as they had become. She settled a hand on her belly as she observed. She would be taking over Olegs responsibility of ruling as regent as Igor was still too young to take his rightful place. And she was carrying an heir. Not Oleg's. No. Ivar's. And whilst she knew this would complicate things for her his and her sisters budding relationship, she would be honest with the both of them about what this meant. It didn't change anything for her and Ivar's relationship. It had been a convenient one. One of pleasure and admiration and nothing more. And whilst she would make sure everyone knew this child was Ivar's and that her child knew who their father was, she didn't want anything deeper with him. They did not love eachother. And she did not want another forced relationship like she'd had with Oleg. And she also didn't want to ruin her sisters happiness. Not when she'd finally found it after so long of being miserable and mistrusting. No. She would make her intentions very clear and hope it would not ruin anything. Because Katia didn't lie. And she wouldn't start now.

"Why are you both leaving me?! I don't understand!" Igor yelled as tears rolled down his face. Tatiana softly grabbed his cheeks and wiped them away as they fell. "It won't be forever little moon. We will come back. But there are things that Ivar and his brother must take care of and he's asked me to help them. Should I abandon them in their time of need?" She asked quietly. He sniffled and shook his head. "Then I must go." He shuddered as quiet sobs wracked him. "Swear to me!" He demanded. "Swear it on your sword!" She nodded to him "I swear it on my sword that I will return to you. We will return to you little moon." He crushed himself to her and she kissed his head as he soaked her dress with his tears. She looked at Ivar over his head with sadness and he returned a sad smile. It had to be done. No matter how much it was destroying them inside to leave.

It was done. Kattegat was won back. But Ivar The Boneless would not be the one sitting on the Throne. Hvitserk Ragnarsson would. Ivar The Boneless had been killed in the battle along with his wife Tatiana. Atleast that is what everyone thought. Should anyone dig up their graves in the English countryside, they would be empty. A ploy. And if anyone had looked close enough during the burial ceremony, they would've seen the knowing smile on King Alfred's face, small, but there as the night before he'd helped to smuggle the two out of England and back on their way to the Rus. He bowed his head in prayer as a sacrifice was made to the pagan gods. But he prayed for their safe return to where they would now call home. Not to the place they called Valhalla.

Igor raced out of the castle and towards Ivar and Tatianna as they dismounted their horse, her helping him to the ground and to steady himself. She barely turned when a force barreled into her at full force, nearly knocking her to the ground. She grunted loudly as she was clutched to a taller Igor. "You've gotten taller little moon." She said as she embraced him. He was nearly taller than her now at age 13. He only clutched her tighter to him. Ivar snorted from behind them. "What am I? Fish guts?" He jokingly taunted. Igor released her and immediately slammed into Ivar, Causing his knees to buckle slightly and he gripped the crutch tightly to keep himself from falling. He laughed and wrapped his free arm around the boys shoulders. "I've missed you both." Igor whispered. "We've missed you too, son." He said softly. Igor snapped his head up and looked at him with awe. "You mean it?!" He asked. "If you'll have us." Ivar replied with a smile. "Of course!" Igor replied squeezing Ivar tighter "Father." And then looking over to Tatiana. "Mother." She teared up happily for the first time in a very long time. "Come on you two. It's cold. Let's go inside. Don't want to catch our deaths hmm?" She asked. Igor let go of Ivar and began to lead them into the castle, talking happily and animatedly about everything they missed whilst they were gone. Ivar entwined their hands as they walked side by side behind Igor into their new and final home. "Oh and Katia will be happy to see you both! Alexei has been quite the handful! He's always into something!" Igor sprouted off. Tatianna snorted and looked to Ivar. "Hes definitely your son then!" Ivar raised a brow. "I would expect nothing less from any son of mine. Look at Igor." They both smiled and Igor turned to both of them with a grin that could rival the sun's rays. Yes. They were both home.

Your Grace Masterlist

Your Grace Playlist (by @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog)

This is the fic I wrote for the Vikings Big Bang❤️ You can also read it on AO3. 

*Please remember to check the warnings at the beginning of each chapter! It’s sometimes very explicit and of course +18, do not read if any of the topics I put in the warnings could be triggering for you. And please tell me if I didn’t warn about anything properly so I can add it. Thank you!

Part 1: forever winter

Part 2: king of my heart

Part 3: tolerate it

Part 4: exile

Part 5: hoax

Part 6: peace

Part 7: evermore

(this fic was originally published on AO3 on February 15th 2022)

dark green is a nice color. underrated

(via 0zu93ijn4gfa1.jpg (JPEG Image, 720 × 530 pixels))

Watch "Making a mask from a foam pumpkin. #halloween #halloweencostumesideas #halloweendiy #pumpkin" on YouTube

YouTube

Making a mask from a foam pumpkin. #halloween #halloweencostumesideas #halloweendiy #pumpkin

hello dark mode users :)

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🔭

Opposites attract • Niki Lauda Imagine •

The marriage had been talk of the racing tracks and the racing media for MONTHS now. No one could believe the fact that THE Niki Lauda, rule follower asshole extraordinaire, had not only married a woman half his age, but one such as HER. Covered in tattoos, metal in her face, and a crazy personality to boot. They were such opposites that everyone thought it was a play for attention. His rivalry with James Hunt was getting heated and in order to keep the attention on him, he'd gone out and done something crazy. But that wasn't true at all. Your relationship with Niki was real.

You stood by his side and supported him no matter how crazy the plan or how much of an asshole he was. You would gamble that you were the only person who DID check him on his attitude towards you at points. You understood it was his defense mechanism especially when he was stressed. But you made it VERY clear that it gave him no right to treat you like shit. That if he needed to vent you were always there. But do NOT take it out on you. And he was flabbergasted at your outburst at first, but then he began to change his attitude towards you and he would rant but not AT you. Rather TO you. And you were happy to listen and throw the occasional cuss word or insult in there as well in agreeance.

He loved the way you weren't scared if anyone's opinion of you. How you did and said what you wanted and when you wanted. He especially liked it when James was insulting him and you unleashed your firey forked tongue and gave him the insulting of his life infront of his women, taking him down a few pegs. He liked the fear in Hunts eyes as the fire in yours sparked to life and you stepped towards the blonde as if you were death herself coming to drag his soul to the depths of darkness. It made his heart swell to know you were fiercely loyal and protective of him, he'd never had that before.

He loved the way you listened to his concerns without blowing him off as arrogant or scared of losing. You had begged him not race that day. Told him that it was OK if he sat that one out. That it didn't matter what the other drivers thought. Trust his gut. Don't do it. But his arrogance had pushed him to get into that car and on that wet track even though he knew there was more than that 20% chance he didn't usually push. And he had crashed. He felt the flames licking his skin as he was dragged from his car. And he felt your hand in his the whole time he was unconscious. He heard you tell the priest to "kindly fuck off cause he's not dead yet." He wanted so badly to chuckle but he couldn't move. Couldn't respond. Could only rattle what little air he had in his lungs. But you were there through it all. The painful bandage changed and procedures. You didn't flinch. You held onto his hand with deadly determination in your eyes and looked at him with nothing else but pure love, giving him pep talks that would cause nurses and doctors to look at you with pity and confusion. But you didn't care. He was YOUR Niki. And he was gonna kick ass.

And when he finally did come back to the track, you were right by his side. Ever the overbearing wife. "Niki, did you take your pills?" "Niki, it's water time. Drink up." "Niki, don't forget to change your bandages before the race." But he couldn't bring himself to be the tiniest bit angry or annoyed. He was grateful you were by his side keeping his already fragile health in mind. And he knew it was so he would be able to keep racing. He knew that was your motivation. His motivation. So when James Hunt made his was into his bay and began speaking to him, you weren't happy. At all. The accident was HIS fault. And Niki confirmed that to him. But when Niki decided to forgive him, you begrudgingly did too. If Niki could, you could too you supposed.

But when that damned press conference happened, you were uneasy. You knew these fucking reporters were like vultures. And one of them would manage to engage you by being an insensitive fuck. And you were right. "Niki, what did your wife say when she saw you? how do you expect your marriage to survive this?" The heat that surrounded your body as your blood rushed through your ears was almost unbearable. You clenched your fists and took a deep breath. "She said, sweet, you don't need a handsome face to drive, only a left foot." The room laughed in acceptance but the reporter pushed and it was enough to make what little patience leave you body. "Im serious. How do you expect your marriage to survive when you look like that?" You stormed towards the table Niki was sitting at, reporters turning towards you and gasping. You leaned down next to where Niki was sitting and moved the microphone towards yourself as he looked up at you in confusion. "Im sorry I'm not that shallow to think that looks is all that makes up a relationship. And if you do, well, God do I feel sorry for your wife. I told the priest Reading his last rites to fuck off because he wasn't dead yet. And here he sits. A marriage is until death. Through thick and thin. Sickness and in health. Though I wouldn't expect you to understand that. Fuck you. Press conference over." You said and grabbed Nikis hand, pulling him up and out of the room as cameras flashed, Niki following behind you in a daze.

When Niki decides to race in Japan you feel a anxious sickness building up in your stomach watching him get into his car. These conditions were way worse than the ones that caused his accident. And whilst you didn't say anything, not wanting to cause an argument, Niki could see the fear on your face. And that's when his plan cemented in his head. He would never again put you through that sickness that settled in your stomach whenever you thought back to the crash. He would never again leave you wondering if you'd be a Widow before you even got started. He would make decisions with you in mind from now on. So when he pulled back into the bay after the first lap and killed the engine, pulling off his Helmut you jumped into his arms and he caught you with a smile on his face. He would never again leave you. No matter what.

The day his father came knocking, wanting to reconcile now that his son had made something of himself and made him eat his own words, you were having none of it. You made it VERY clear to Niki that this was a power play. Not a 'I miss my son genuinely' move. He was torn. But you explained to him that you had lived around narcissistic people your whole life and they would leave when you had nothing to offer them and then come crawling back to drain you when you did. And after a long talk between the two of you, he declined his father's offer of a renewed relationship, to which the man angrily spat insults which hit Niki where it hurt and left him in peices once again. Peices you were left to pick up and reinforce with love. You wouldn't ever let anyone hurt Niki again. You swore it.

When Niki began to teach you how to drive F1 cars, it was a debacle. You were a MESS. It took everything he had to not throw his hands up and walk away, giving up. And eventually, you got it. He often got annoyed at how silly you acted doing it but he came to realize that whilst his happiness in his car was strictly business and hidden, yours was a childlike joy that you had no issues showing. And he accepted it wholeheartedly and even came to enjoy it. Soon it was a hobby for you that you both partook in in the off seasons for fun, much to the Ferrari teams amusement. Enzo Ferrari himself even visited the track a few times to watch you two horse around in mock races on his track.

The next season you two are back on the race track, this time with your new knowledge of the cars and races and a brand new, Ferrari red jacket with the 'Y/N Lauda' across the back of it over top the giant Ferrari logo. Officially apart of the team, though just starting out in the F3 leagues with Nikis help. This drives the media CRAZY. No one saw this coming. Not even you. The press fights over interviewing the both of you together, the dynamic duo, the Laudas. Husband and wife Formula One and Three racers. What a sensational story.

A/N: this one just kinda flowed. Hope you like it!

Who do I need to go to to request a little mermaid AU with Andrea Marowski? I saw a Moodboard for it a while ago and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. There’s so many talented writers, please can you or someone else write this 🥺🥺

omg yeah i would read that but I don't like mermaids enough to write it myself, somebody do this! it would make so much sense

the empress (II)

MY MASTERLIST | PART ONE

This fic is inspired by the Empress card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot

pairing(s): helmut zemo x reader

summary: So You're Babysitting Your Ex's Pet Villain: How to Demoralize Yourself in 8 Easy Steps

words: 5,666

warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI), smut, this part has all the good shit, dom!reader, sub!zemo, unprotected sex (no stated use of contraception), oral sex, cunnilingus, praise kink, degradation kink, roleplay, mistress & servant type thing, exhibitionism, riding, the reader makes zemo her bitch

additional notes: this is the second part of my 12k+ word fic that needed to be broken into two separate posts because it exceeded the word limit by A Lot. It is posted on AO3 in its original format, as a single chapter fic.

taglist blog: @rosemareblogs

.VII.

You don’t sleep that night.

You could blame the alcohol. Or, you could blame the screaming fire in your core, trying to pull you off your bed, out the door and down the hall to where you know the Baron lies in his own bedroom, probably half naked and wonderfully upright.

You slip in and out of consciousness, but never truly give in to the other side of sleep. It’s too hot beneath the sheets. You can hear Bruno’s asthmatic wheezing at the foot of the bed, and it seems like it’s booming throughout the cavern of the master bedroom.

When you rouse early in the morning to let the dog limp out of the room and down the hall, the alcohol hasn’t entirely worked its way out of your system, and has left you with the disorientation of a mild hangover. You’re not stumbling, but you’re parched, and so ravenous that the emptiness of your stomach lends itself to nausea.

Your movements are jerky and a little bit too slow as you move through the kitchen. By the time you rip open a fresh package of bacon, the pain in your stomach is so strong you think you might kill someone.

And that’s precisely when Artemis comes trundling into the kitchen, howling like she’s being tortured.

She hops onto the counter to investigate what you’re doing as you begin slicing the cuts of bacon, a frying pan already heating on the stove. She butts at your hand to try and get at the fragrant meat, giving you an indignant, “MRROW.”

You affect an unamused glare. “What, you think you’re the only horny one in this house?”

“May I offer some assistance?” comes the Baron’s voice.

Your ears start to ring with the rush of blood to your head as you turn to find Zemo standing two feet from you with a coy smirk on his face, holding a glass of water. When you blink at him, he opens his palm and gestures for you to give him the knife in exchange for the water.

You take the glass, and press the flat of the blade into his outstretched palm. He wordlessly nudges you to the side and begins to slice the bacon with such quick, careful precision that the fluid motion mesmerizes you for a second.

As you sip the water, your eyes follow the line of his hand up to his strong forearm, bared to you by his rolled sleeves, and further up until your eyes settle on his face. The scratches on his cheekbone are still bright red, but seem to have sealed up in the night.

The flapping of wings at the window heralds Dodie’s arrival, and you snatch up a piece of the raw bacon before Zemo can manage to cut it. The raven titters at you as you hold the scrap out to it, and you nudge your knuckle affectionately against its plumage. “Good morning, my love.”

You hear Zemo’s meditative hum from behind you. “So that’s who you presume to be meant for love.”

“Please, Baron. Animals are innocent souls,” you tell him easily as you stroke the raven’s beak. “They’re all worthy of love.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Helmut?’”

You pause as Dodie takes flight, feeling your blood humming through your veins with such a fever you think you may be turning red. His voice is quiet, much like it had been when he first spotted Nerissa, like he might not have meant for you to hear him say it.

But you turn to him, and he’s not looking at the stove or the knife, or anything else. He’s looking at you.

“Do you want me to call you ‘Helmut?’”

He considers you for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning you with growing warmth, like you can see a fire being lit within his irises. But then they go cold, and they drop to the stove without warning.

“What I want makes no difference,” he states with clinical detachment. “Perhaps it is best that you call me ‘Baron.’”

“Why is that?”

“Because, I made a promise to James,” he explains, and his voice has garnered a rough edge. “A promise that he told me to remember.”

Bucky’s parting snarl rings through your mind. ‘You remember what I told you, right?’

“What was that promise?”

“That I would remain a stranger to you.” He continues to conduct himself about the stove, tossing the bacon as if the conversation is of little importance to him. “And that if I don’t, it is with the understanding that he will, and I quote, ‘cut off my balls and use them as a hacky sack.’”

A litany of emotions bombard you at once, freezing you in space without any way to reply. First comes flattery, at the fact that Bucky still feels protective of you in some regard. Second, anger, because it’s not his place to be protective of you when he didn’t want to remain with you.

And third, frustration. Because now that he’s successfully gotten under your skin, Zemo’s doing the fucking right thing.

“And you intend to honor that?” It seems ridiculous that he would, considering Bucky’s “warning” sounds more like a schoolyard taunt and less like an actual threat.

But Zemo looks at you, and smiles warmly. “Yes, dragă, I do.”

You nod slowly, eyes falling to the floor, chewing on your lip because you can feel your frustration rising to the surface. “Are you trying to be a good man, Baron?”

He barks a laugh, and turns to look at you.

“In my life, I have been many things. A good man is not one of them.” Though he keeps his face evenly measured, you can see something pained within his gaze. “However, I shall make a valiant effort.”

You suck on your tongue as you watch him turn the stove off and plate the horrendous amount of bacon you’d decided to make in your stupor.

“I’m disappointed,” you say, just as he sets the plate beside you on the counter. He’s not a foot away from you now, and as you stare challengingly up into his eyes, you can see every little deviation his face makes.

“Are you, indeed?” He tilts his head slightly, and his lips turn up at the corners.

“Yes.” Taking the plate from him, you let your fingertips brush his, where they linger on the porcelain. “Here I thought I was supposed to be keeping a dangerous villain in line.”

You watch his pupils dilate dramatically, and a smile breaks across your face. That’s what you were looking for. Last night his eyes weren’t blown completely black because he was frightened of your pet snake. He liked that you were in control.

The low timbre of his voice vibrates through the air around you. “Didn’t you say that I do well when I listen?”

You hum, and slide around him with newfound purpose, allowing your fingers to trail innocently along the line of his belt. “Come to me when you decide who it is you want to listen to, Baron.”

You smile to feel his eyes scorching your back as you exit the kitchen.

.VIII.

The Baron is already out of breath.

You can’t imagine the inner dialogue he’s been through to get to this point, but the look on his face is earnest, like he’s two seconds from begging you on his knees. You allow yourself to smile at the thought.

You haven’t done anything to him. Not yet, anyways, but you can tell by the way he stands at the threshold of the conservatory with his fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving and his eyes trained solidly on you, that it won’t be long before you do. Because he’s just played right into your hand, as you knew he would.

Bucky knew he would, too. Because the same thing happened with him, and history tends to repeat itself.

“Have you given up your valiant effort so soon?” You recline in your high backed chair, not unlike a queen upon her throne.

“It seems my villainy knows no bounds.”

Nerissa is asleep, coiled into a pile on the shelf of culinary herbs, but you don’t think he cares by the way he threw open the doors with barely contained desperation.

He steps into the room.

“Did I give you permission to enter?”

The Baron halts, hands flexing at his sides. “No, dragă.”

“Dragă?”

Behind you, rain dashes against the darkened conservatory windows, rippling down the glass like a waterfall. In the silence that hangs throughout the room, thunder can be heard echoing from the valley. You wonder how long it will take him to address you correctly, or if you’ll have to guide him there.

“No…  Empress.”

You incline your head toward the Baron’s rigid form. “Very good. You are a smart boy. Now,” you cross your legs to tease him with the fact that you’re wearing nothing beneath your robe, “have you decided what you want me to call you? Baron, or Helmut?”

“Helmut,” he says almost too quickly. He’s all too eager, likely from a culmination of years locked in a prison cell without any contact, combined with whatever internal crisis he’s been having all day to break his resolve so quickly.

For that fact, you’re just as tightly wound as he is, the pulsing in your core echoing the way his trousers are nicely tented below his belt. But you’re not going to rush things along. He strikes you as a patient man.

You’d like to test that theory.

“So, you don’t want to remain strangers.” You run the tip of your finger along your lip, mostly to stop yourself from nervously tapping it against the arm of the chair. In testing his patience, you’re also testing your own. “You seem to have an issue following orders.”

“That depends on who’s giving them.”

You raise your eyebrows. Normally you would bark at him for speaking without being spoken to, but you do love to hear his rasping voice. “Do you think you’ll be able to follow my orders, Helmut?”

His eyes glow gold in the dim light. “Yes, Empress.”

“Then you may come closer.”

It’s a dance, trying to hide your own need while also feeding off of his. He crosses the room slowly, trying to conceal how his hands twitch to reach out to you. He stops just short of your crossed legs.

“Tell me, Helmut,” you say, revelling in the way his eyes flutter at the sound of his name, “were I truly a queen, how would you approach me to ask for something?”

His face is darkened with lust, his breath coming in swift bursts. “On my knees.”

“Show me, then.”

Zemo falls to his knees before you, his gaze remaining trained on your face. You keep your expression level as you move your leg with aching slowness and precision, ensuring that it brushes teasingly across the Baron’s growing bulge. He hisses through his teeth, and his hand catches your ankle to hold it there.

You tut at him condescendingly. “Did I give you permission to put your hands on me?”

His nostrils flare with the impatient breath he huffs out as he releases your ankle. “No, Empress.”

“That’s right.” You continue to rub the length of your calf just barely against his hardness, smirking at the strained grunt he gives you. “Remove your shirt.”

His fingers hasten to unbutton his blouse, but once they fumble a few too many times in response to your gentle caress against his trousers, he roughly yanks the closure apart with a growl, buttons flying as the fabric falls from his shoulders and exposes the lean expanse of his chest.

You make no attempt to hide the impish smile that stretches across your face. “Are we in a rush?”

When Zemo remains silent, dark eyes glaring up at you defiantly, angrily, you stop the movement of your leg against him.

“No,” he chokes out weakly, leaning into you to find that friction again.

“I thought so.” Graciously, you resume your gentle teasing against his trousers, and he visibly melts into you. “Tell me what you want, Helmut.”

He hesitates. He seems to contemplate his words before finally saying, “I want to taste and touch every part of you. I want to feel you come apart around me.”

“My god. A poet.” You smirk, dragging your calf a little harder against his bulge. “Run that by me again, and say what you mean this time.”

He sucks a breath through his teeth at the added pressure against his hardness, his voice tinged with a new kind of hunger. “I want to fuck you until you can’t speak. I want to feel you cum on my cock so hard that you beg me to stop. I want to mark you as mine, dragă. And I want the Winter Soldier to know it when I do.”

Your leg halts of its own accord, because his lewd admission has you clenching pathetically on air, the heat of your slick dampening the satin of your robe where it’s seeped from your cunt. You could make him wait longer, simply because he dared to use his own pet name for you instead of the one you’d given him. But you don’t want to.

You uncross your legs before him, then lean forward to grip his chin in a similar fashion as you did to wipe the blood from his face. “You’ll be content with what I give you for now, yes?”

He nods obediently, swallowing hard against your hand before vocalizing, “Yes.”

“And then, if you behave yourself, I’ll allow you the privilege of feeling me cum on your cock.”

You restrain yourself only for a moment, but the sound of the Baron’s stuttering breath prompts you to lean forward and pull his lips against yours. He stays there, allowing you to drink in the small moan he makes into your mouth as his tongue dances between your lips. He tastes sweet, like bourbon mixed with ripe summer fruit, meeting your lips with a fervor you haven’t known in years.

Your own desperation seeps into your voice when you whisper, “Touch me, Helmut.”

He obliges without a second thought. His hands slide up each of your calves, running along the length of your thighs and back down again, as though testing the waters. You kiss him feverishly, drawing him closer to you, his torso slotting between your knees to press against the edge of the chair.

His thumb slides up your inner thigh to brush along your slit, and you nearly let out a noisy whine.

“You are eager, aren’t you?” you force through gritted teeth, tightening your hands on his shoulder and jaw. His mouth breaks from you with a gasp, forehead pressed to yours for a modicum of stability.

“Yes.”

“Such a smart mouth, and all you can say is, ‘Yes?’” The sound of his desperate groan at your words only serves to spur you on, your hips jolting forward on your seat. “Why don’t you show me what that mouth can really do, Helmut?”

He affords two wet kisses along your jaw before he forgoes all propriety, and pushes your robe up to expose you from the waist down, pulling you forward until your hips meet the edge of your seat. Then his hands rake down your thighs as he dips his head between them, and his tongue slides between the lips of your cunt.

You suck in a gasp unexpectedly, grinding against his mouth as your fingers weave into his hair like they’re made to be there. He takes to you like a man starved, his tongue spreading you open and his lips devouring, and a swift flex of your fingers in his hair draws a moan from his throat.

“Such a lovely tongue. It always gets you what you want, doesn’t it?” You release your grip on his roots and stroke gently through his hair, like butter against your fingers.

Zemo hums a response, his lips closing around your clit to suck hard against it. Your back arches, a loud moan finally falling from your mouth, and he chuckles against you just before flicking his tongue across the swollen bud.

“You fucking bastard,” you choke out, nails digging against his scalp as you desperately rut against his mouth. “You like to hear how good you are, don’t you? How much you make me fucking want you?”

Your head tilts up seemingly on its own, pulling you to look at him. He’s watching you from beneath his lashes, looking like an absolute devil as his tongue drags through your folds and pauses just shy of your clit.

You can’t help the way your mouth falls open in a needy gasp, your fingers tugging on his hair once again. “Don’t you dare stop, Helmut.”

He obliges you by sucking your clit between his lips with spiteful force. You’re all too aware that his eyes are still on you, watching your head drop back as the muscles of your core tighten, your legs shaking where they rest on his shoulders.

Your orgasm is ravaging. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve had a partner to bring you there, but the pulses seem to constrict every part of your body, hoarse cries stealing from your throat to mingle with the sharp sound of rain striking the windows. Your skin sings, breath shaking when the Baron draws away from you to rest his chin on your thigh.

Then, the fucker has the audacity to say, “Take your time.”

You don’t even lift your head up in order to watch how Zemo flies backward when you use the ball of your foot to shove him by his collarbone, hearing his soft grunt as he lands on his back against the floor.

“You think I’m not taking my time with you, you entitled little shit?” you hiss as you straighten yourself, your hands falling to the tie of your robe. He raises himself on his elbows, watching you with hungry eyes as you stand, shrugging the satin negligée from your shoulders and towering over his sprawling form. “No. If I wasn’t taking my time with you, you’d already be blissed out of your fucking skull. I want to hear you beg for it.”

The look on the Baron’s face is excitable, fearful, his sharp features looking younger and more boyish now as you bend at the knee and begin to crawl tantalizingly between his parted legs, running your palms along the inside of his thighs toward where he strains against his fly.

“Poor thing,” you coo, hooking your finger beneath the buckle of his belt to tug lightly against it, and watch him buck his hips along with it. “You really need me so badly?” You undo the buckle to slip the belt from his trousers, and use two fingers to release the button of his fly before sliding your hand across his bulge as you drag the zipper down. And then, the Baron surprises you.

He whimpers.

It’s not a sound you ever expected to come from him. Zemo is normally so regally composed, stoic and even-tempered with just a hint of malice below the surface. You expect growls and groans, deep, guttural noises with primal connotations. But not this. A pathetic little whimper high in his throat, so soft it’s almost like a sob.

You can’t contain your self-aggrandizing grin as you reach into his trousers to finally relieve him of his restraints, his cock swollen and hard and leaking against your fingers.

His hand comes up to grasp your shoulder at the contact, but you’re not about to let him guide you. You grab him by the wrist and pin his hand against the floor, watching him strain to hold back a moan as you stroke him. You can hear his nails scratch roughly against the floor when his elbows give and he falls back, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Oh, you like that.” You give him a languid stroke, feeling him rigid and pulsing against your hand. Beneath the pleasure of watching Zemo squirm against your touch is the undercurrent of, ‘I want to taste it,’ as your thumb drags the bead of precum down his shaft, and your mouth waters. And who are you to deny yourself the pleasure?

You lick him from base to tip, and feel him shudder against you. You know you’ve wound him up enough that he won’t last if you go at him like this for too long, but still, you close your mouth around his tip and take him in as far as you can, his hitching breath like music to your ears and his salty taste like heaven on your tongue. And then, you draw back slowly, giving him one long, hard suck between your cheeks before your mouth pops off of him, and he very nearly screams.

“No, no, darling, you’re not going to finish like this. Not before I give you what you asked for.” His chest heaves as you dip your head down and slide your tongue up the hollow of his stomach and the line of his ribs, pulling back just at the burst of hair on his sternum. “Do you think you deserve to be given what you want, Helmut?”

His hands land on your waist as you hover over him, staring down into his glassy, dark eyes and carding your fingers delicately through his dishevelled hair. He’s shaking, his skin is burning.

“Yes.” His voice is broken, like it’s been stolen from him and wrung so tightly that he can barely use it anymore. “Please.”

A smirk twitches on your lips. “What was that?”

“Please.” His eyes are searching, desperate, a look you’ve been familiar with before. He’s not above begging, at least not now. His hand brushes your cheek, stroking a finger along the side of your face with tender reverence. “Please, dragă.”

You take his hand, and press a kiss to his palm. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You skim your hands down the length of his body as you rid him of his shoes and trousers, not really trying to conceal your own haste anymore. Your need is already evident in the way your slick seeps down your inner thighs, wet against your skin as you move up his legs.

Zemo is sitting now, his arms outstretched and grabbing for you like he can’t be without you, pulling you against his chest because he said he wanted to touch all of you, not just your cunt, not just your mouth. He’s peppering kisses along your jaw and down your neck, sucking and biting, nails scratching, marking. He holds you so close it’s like he wants to intertwine himself with you entirely.

His hands find your hips. You make no move to guide them away. You run your palm up his chest as you rub against him, raising your hips to align him with your entrance.

When you sink down onto him, your name breaks in his throat like a swan song.

You, on the other hand, are so overwhelmed with the feeling of finally being filled, you’re clinging to him like he might float away from you, moaning against his neck as your walls tighten around his intrusion.

When was the last time you felt so complete?

Zemo’s hand strokes down your spine, raising the hairs on the back of your neck with the gentle caress, and his whisper is soft as velvet. “You’re divine.”

Your eyes flutter before you finally collect yourself, and you bite down on his shoulder as you rock your hips into his. He groans loudly into your ear, his chest vibrating against yours as you lift yourself up on your knees to pull back again.

And you push him flat down onto the floor once again before you drive yourself back down onto him with excessive force, biting your lip as he strikes deeper within you.

He gasps as you rake your fingernails through his chest hair, scratching deep red welts into his skin that mimic the ones on his face. He’s surprised, and delighted, and one particular swirl of your hips makes his face scrunch so preciously you’d dare to call it cute, if that’s a word that could be used to describe the Baron.

Zemo’s hands grip your hips, moving in tandem with them as you roll down onto him, a strangled whine leaving your lips. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this, and yet, you find that the movement and feeling is not something one easily forgets.

His hips erratically buck to meet yours, a tense sort of culmination building between you as you bend forward over him, your hand coming to rest on the floor beside his head.

“Is this what you wanted, Helmut?” The words fall from your mouth before you’re even able to process them. “For my cunt to be yours for the taking?”

His pants interrupt his words as he speaks. “I hardly think I’ve taken it.”

Your free hand closes around his jaw, a scoff issuing from your mouth. “That’s right. Remember that I gave you this.”

You’re so enrapt in his mouth as you kiss him, it takes a moment for you to register that the ringing in your ears is not, in fact, from your own sensory overload, but that it’s from your cell phone, which sits two feet away on a little antique footrest. You break away from the Baron with a frustrated growl, refusing to stop the rolling of your hips even as you knock over the footrest in your haste to shut the fucking thing up.

And then you see the caller ID.

“Well, well,” you laugh as you grind your hips into the Baron’s, your eyes flickering to his confused visage, “It looks like you really do get whatever you want.”

You push the phone into Zemo’s palm, as Bucky’s call continues to vibrate in his hand.

“Answer it,” you order, your eyes blazing into his as you straighten yourself, trailing a finger down his torso.

Zemo swallows, a hint of terror washing across his face before he clears his throat, eyes steeling and growing sharp. It takes you a moment to realize that you’ve just watched him put on the mask that he wears in daily life; he’s no longer Helmut, he’s Baron Zemo.

Nevertheless, his voice cracks when he answers the phone. “Hello, James.”

You can hear a vague chattering coming from the phone against his ear, his eyes staring up into yours with unadulterated lust as you continue to roll yourself down onto his cock.

“The phone was simply nearest to me.” Zemo speaks clearly now, but his voice is deeper than normal. “Is there something you wish to tell me, zimniy soldat?”

If you listen hard enough, you can hear the cadence of Bucky’s voice over the sounds of your own erotic gasps, watching the Baron’s jaw tighten when he drives his hips up particularly hard into you, like he’s trying his hand at warning you to shut up.

“Is that so?” he nearly growls through gritted teeth. “That didn’t take long at all. I expect you’ll be chaperoning me, then?”

Ah. So Bucky called to tell you that he’s coming to collect Zemo for whatever job he needed the Baron’s help with. It makes sense for that to be the reason he called, but similar to what Zemo’s apologetic expression attests to, you thought you’d have more time.

Might as well go out with a bang.

“Actually, she is right here,” Zemo says, his words coming out thick with anger and desperation. “Perhaps you’d like to tell her yourself?”

He quirks his brows at you, like he’s asking if you want to talk to Bucky. The little inquiry for your consent is almost heartwarming; as you reach to take the phone from his hand, you bend forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

And then you pick up your hips and slam down onto him as hard as you can, making him give out a moan that he strangles to a quiet grunt in his throat before it can be heard over the phone.

“Hi, Bucky,” you sigh into the phone, putting all your frustration into the two words.

“Hey, I know it’s probably late where you are, but I wanted to catch you before tomorrow. Something came up with the Flagsmashers, I need Zemo as soon as possible.”

“Well, that’s what you left him with me for, right?” Your breathing is coming hard through your nose as you try to choke back your own moans, because now Zemo’s hands are truly guiding your hips, and he’s ensuring that each time you fall down onto him, his cock is hitting that perfect spot within you that wants it most. “You don’t need my permission to come get him.”

“I just figured I’d let you know before showing up unannounced.” Bucky’s voice is tense, like he doesn’t like the prospect of seeing you again. “I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with him even this long. I hope he wasn’t too difficult to deal with.”

“On the contrary,” you gasp out as you sweep your hand up the Baron’s chest, taking in his face as he gazes up at you with what can only be described as adoration, “he’s been a very, very good boy.”

At your words, and a particularly well aimed rut of your hips, Zemo lets out a groan that you’re sure can be heard through the phone.

Bucky is quiet for a moment, before he says in the most disappointed tone you’ve ever heard, “You didn’t.”

This time, you sigh a quiet little moan of your own into the speaker. “Don’t be too hard on him, Bucky. He made such a valiant effort to resist me.”

You feel Zemo twitch within you as you rock down onto him, his fingers tightening on your hips as you toss your head back at the sensation.

Bucky’s voice is enraged now as he growls, “Empress…”

Your head snaps forward, and you stare directly down into the Baron’s dark eyes as you say, “I’m not your Empress anymore, Bucky.”

And you end the call as Zemo jerks his hips up ungodly hard into yours. You squeeze the phone in your hand just before your core tightens, and you launch it across the room and through the open door with a ridiculously loud cry, like everything you’ve been holding back all evening is coming out all at once.

You catch yourself on your hand before you can collapse against him, allowing your release to seize you entirely. You jolt forward into it, feeling your cunt pulse around his cock with your eyes screwed shut, searing heat exploding in your belly and sizzling through your veins.

You hear Zemo’s harsh cry at the same time as you feel his hands tug you further onto him, and then the warm rush of his release, sprung forth with the sensation of you cumming around him.

He hasn’t quite finished his orgasm when his hands slide up your sides to pull you down against his chest, his arm winding around your waist and his hand cradling the back of your head, hugging you to him as he continues to moan out his release. Your head dips into the crook of his neck, lips pressed to his collarbone while you’re lost in the aftershocks of your muscles pulsing against his hardness.

You lay atop him, breathing him in. It’s the only thing you can do. You can’t seem to form words. You suppose he’s managed to get what he wanted in that respect as well; you’re dumbstruck at the intensity of your orgasm, the fact that you’ve thoroughly debauched yourself in the proverbial face of your ex, and that in less than eight hours, the man holding you like a treasure will be whisked away by said ex, likely never to see you again.

You try to burn it into your memory that Helmut’s sweat-damp body tastes of salt, and smells of sandalwood.

You remain like that, with his arm hugging you to his body and his thumb stroking circles against the back of your head, while he slips from you and his breathing slows.

Eventually, you’re able to find your voice again when he croaks out a gentle, "Thank you."

“It isn’t always like that with me, you know,” you mutter, your voice echoing in the dip of his collarbone.

“Is that so?” His voice vibrates against where your mouth is pressed to his skin.

“Yeah. Sometimes, I like to be on the receiving end.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

You raise your head, your nose brushing the stubble on his jaw as you find his eye. “Next time?”

“Yes, dragă.” His thumb continues its gentle caress of your head as his eyes search your face. “There will be a next time, if you desire it.”

“Of course I desire you, Helmut.” His breath audibly stutters when you say his name, his arm tightening around your waist.

“It… relieves me to hear you say that.” His eyes flutter shut when you press a kiss to his jaw.

“But you have to leave in the morning. And Bucky might actually kill you.”

“Don’t worry about that. I believe I can talk down our zimniy soldat.”

“I have no doubt about that,” you say with a small laugh, and rest your head in the crook of his neck again. “But he’s definitely not going to be bringing you back here, that’s for sure.”

“Have no fear, dragă. I know where to find you.” Helmut’s hand strokes down the back of your neck, beginning a gentle descent along your spine. “One trait we villains have in common is that we know a good thing when we see one.”

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝟏/𝟓)

Hi everyone! As already announced a few days ago, I started writing this mini-series, and I’m so excited omg I’m having the time of my life writing it 😂 It’s an enemies-to-lovers historical AU and (very) loosely inspired by the events of Bridgerton. There will be a lot of funny bantering, romantic tension as well as angst and also a few smutty scenes😏

I hope you enjoy - Love, Kiki 🖤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 |  Helmut Zemo x female reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 |  London, 1813. There is new evidence that Hydra - the secret organization that murdered your family - has taken root in Sokovia, under the reign of Baron Helmut Zemo and his court. The ball season has begun, Baron Zemo is visiting London to strengthen diplomatic relationships and gain new allies, and Sokovia is still lacking a Baroness. You, warden of Tony Stark, are the last chance to end Hydra without risking a war and find out if Baron Zemo is really involved in Hydra’s schemes. So, there’s only one thing left for you to do: woo the Baron, gain his hand in marriage, become his Baroness - and bring Hydra and the Sokovian court to its knees.  

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 |  6 k  

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 |  only harassment for now but there will be some angst and smut in the later chapters (so 18 + only). 

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡  

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝🖤

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧

London, 1813. While the rest of the city was feverishly preparing for the first dance of the year to finally open the ball season – or, as mothers and their unmarried daughters called it with a giggle, hunting season – the atmosphere in the most beautiful mansion at Grosvenor Square was tense.

Keep reading

CLIPPED WINGS MASTERLIST

LASZLO KREIZLER X READER SERIES

Laszlo needs to walk the dark path of the sick person murdering all the young boys. In order to catch their killer he must enlist the help of one.

Please be sure to read the trigger warning at the beginning of each chapter. This is 'The Alienist' so there will be dark, mature themes throughout!

STARS' MAIN MASTERLIST

CHPT 1 | CAGED BIRD

CHPT 2 | WOLF IN DOVE'S CLOTHING

CHPT 3 | FLEE THE NEST

CHPT 4 | TAKE FLIGHT

CHPT 5 | DANCE OF THE SWANS

CHPT 6 |

CHPT 7 |

CHPT 8 |

more to be added...

NOTE: IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST, PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK, MESSAGE OR DROP A COMMENT AND I’LL ADD YOU 💜

Don't skip without sharing this please even if you cannot donate.

A pleasant evening to all.I am new here because my friend in Reddit tells to post here. I am sincere kindly asking for financial help for my baby luke for our hospital bills and laboratory and medicine.

He has been admitted since July 6, 2021 at Metro Antipolo Hospital and medical center inc. intensive care unit for 2 weeks after he underwent internal intestine surgery and he is still recovering due to inspection. Our total bills as of August 2021 at Php 459,000 pesos and that's still without doctors fee ..

To those who want to give a help any amount for our baby.

gcash no.09275124046

PayPal account

Bless you all..

(Eamon Farren via Instagram Story | 02.02.2021)

(Eamon Farren via Instagram Story | 08.02.2021)

Guardian! Andromeda •James Delaney angst part 2•

He'd first seen her when He'd fell into the water as the ship sank. It'd been flashes of her white dress, her long hair, her face. And right before He was about passed out from oxygen deprivation, He'd felt her dainty arms wrap around his body and bring him to the surface so he could suck in huge breaths of air. But he saw nothing. Not even as he feverishly searched around him and in the water. But he knew. The second time was when he'd been ready to give up. He'd been whipped and forced to work in the hot sun. Sweat poured down his body and exhaustion was fighting him. But he knew if he fell, if he stopped working, he was dead. They'd kill him. And right as he was about to let exhaustion take over He'd felt a rush of energy. Like someone else had taken over and he was moving once again with a new found pace. And he knew this time too. It wasnt a coincidence she came to him when he needed her the most. So He'd started using his new found powers to call upon her. To get a glimpse. The first time he'd seen her she was sitting on the bank of the lake shore humming and knotting flowers together as the wind blew her hair back. She paused her work and turned to look at him with a smile. "Alright james?" She'd asked him. And he was so startled that he'd let go of the vision and tumbled back into the land of the consciousness. And as he had gotten better control of his powers he had been able to talk and interact with her more and more. And that brought him to now. Somehow. He didn't know how. But he had manifested her outside of his visions. And she followed him Everywhere. At first he didn't mind. He enjoyed the company. But when he returned to London, he had work to do. And she seemed to always be lecturing him. No matter that he was already called mad delaney. No. Now he was seen talking to himself by others. They couldn't see or hear her after all. She was sat on the table where he sat in helgas brothel, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hand. A look of boredom on her face as James scanned the room. "James. Can we go home yet?" He set down his goblet and swallowed. "No." He said quietly. She huffed. "Hes not here. The captain is not coming is he? Or he would've been here." She said. James ignored her and she rolled her eyes. Dieing at 16 really sucked. She hadnt been kissed, was still a virgin, and now she was stuck with the worlds grumpiest James delaney. Well. She wasnt stuck. She chose to stay. And she would go back and die again if it meant Zilpha was safe. But from what she saw Zilpha had turned cold and she didn't like it. The bell above the door rang and she turned to look. "James.." "hush." "James!" He winced as her yell rang in his ears. He looked up and saw the soldiers. He cursed and stealthily got up and made for the back door. But was spotted. "Delaney!" He kept walking. One pulled out their gun and shot. She knocked into him to push him sideways, the bullet went through her body and stuck into a pillar. He opened the door and disappeared into the alley, hiding until they came out. He then took out a knife and slit the ones throat before catching the other ones attention. She narrowed her eyes as the man pulled out a dagger of his own. Before she could do a thing James lunged. They grappled and the man managed to slice james' side open. He groaned and plunged his knife into the man's neck much like He'd done to her killer. He leaned back against the wall and lifted his shirt. It was bad. "James.." she said worriedly. He waved her off. "Let's just get home." He said and moved with great pain, stumbling down the streets. She let him use her as a crutch. Shoving some of her energy into him to get him home. He banged on the door and Andy could've cried when her dad opened the door. But she composed herself and helped James fall against the couch. She stood by watching the two of them. Her eyes glistened with tears watching her dad. When he went into the kitchen to get supplies James looked at her through pain filled and hooded eyes. "He misses you." She smiled sadly. "I miss him too." She said taking a seat beside him. Brace returned shortly and fixed up James best he could before retiring. James stayed on the couch for a while before standing and making his way to the stairs. "Im going to my room." He muttered. She nodded. "Goodnight James." He grunted in return and disappeared. ------------------ The next morning he awoke and came down to the kitchen to find Andy hovering over her father, watching him closely. And Brace seemed to be in a good mood for once as he served up the breakfast with a smile. James raised a brow. "Why are you all chummy for?" He asked taking a bite of the eggs. Brace sighed. "I dunno. I just feel..different." was all he said before disappearing again. Andy smiled watching her father disappear before sitting across from James at the table. "Your doing i take it." She shrugged. "I dunno. I tried to communicate but you know how that usually goes." She said. He grunted and downed his first days glass of brandy before standing. "Whats today then?" She asked. "Father's will reading." She groaned. "Boring." He cut his eye at her. "Fine. Ill be quiet." She said and stood to follow. ----------- Like she thought it was all boring. Until a lady stepped forward claiming to be Horace Delaneys widow. She immediately did not like this woman. She seemed arrogant and rude and spoiled. She had scoffed and rolled her eyes every time the woman talked and James was growing annoyed but he couldn't lose it infront of the lawyer and this woman so he gave her a subtle look to knock it off and she just crossed her arms and leaned against the desk infront of the two of them whilst they tried to figure out this stupid mix up. ---------------- "God, i HATE her." She stated as soon as they were back onto the london streets. James snorted. "Her pores seep arrogance and entitlement." She groaned. James just raised his brows in agreement with her statement. "Shes gonna be back isn't she?" She asked. He gave a curt nod to which she groaned loudly. "I can't believe I'm stuck out here with you. I wanna go back to that lake place. Where I dont have to see her again." He sighed. "Well can't do anything about that at the moment can I? I dont even know how you're out here in the first place." Andy said nothing but followed him on his various errands like always. Usually quiet this time. Until: "Can we get a cat?" "NO." "Dammit." A/N: hope you liked guardian! Andromeda. I tried my best.

James delaney Angsty imagine

I'm sorry I gotta do it. This is extremely sad and angsty. Warning you now. I dunno. Sometimes angsty things come to me. If you would like a part two of Andy as James' guardian let me know. Totally could do it. On with the imagine!

Below is a mood board for Andy!

She came when James was 17 and Zilpha was 15. She was to be the new housemaid. She was Brace's daughter. Her name was Andromeda and she was 15 like zilpha. James remembered her like it was yesterday. She had been firey and sweet all at the same time. She had caught him and zilpha many a time and kept her mouth shut. Not because zilpha threatened her. No. She'd made that clear to the both of them the first time she'd caught them and zilpha opened her mouth with harsh and hot words.

She made her way down the hall silently with the wicker laundry basket, avoiding all the squeaky floor boards. She noticed Zilphas door cracked open and raised her fist to give a small knock but stilled in her movements when she heard it. The heavy breathing and small mewls from Zilpha and James' grunting with every thrust. And she knew it was James. Because Zilpha called out quietly. "James! Don't stop!" She felt sick to her stomach but at the same time this was a perfect time to teach the two of them a lesson about sneaking about. "Hey. If you guys are gonna sneak about yeah, do it the right way." She called out. She heard the curses and the thud that indicated someone had fallen off the bed. Within moments the door was wretched open and Zilpha stood in the door way with a red and nervous James behind her. The look on Zilohas face was a cross between shame and anger. "Laundry?" She held up the basket. Zilpha huffed. "If you tell anyone about what you just saw-" she growled but Andromeda had cut her off. "Well if I told then I wouldn't have the joy of watching you attempt and fail to sneak around here would I?" She reached behind James and pulled the door shut. "Next time. Shut the door all the way." She gave a cheeky smirk and made her way down the hall whistling like it was just another day.

The next time she caught them he knew she was growing annoyed at this point that they weren't being as careful as they should. She'd told them as much.

She rounded the corner to see the two of them heavily kissing in the hallway. "Come on you two! Seriously!" They jumped away from eachother. "You both don't have a sneaky bone in your bodies. Its obvious." She muttered annoyed. "W-well father is gone." Zilpha spoke up. Andromeda raised a brow. "Is my father? Did your father say for how long he'd be gone for?" Zilpha turned red immediately. Andromeda didn't look at the two of them as she stocked the hall closet with the bath towels and spoke. "If you really want to keep this whole...thing...a secret. You have to do better. Cause if you get caught and and they ask me if I knew, I'm Singing like a canary. At that point its everyone for themselves." She said and turned to give the two teens a look. Zilpha didn't meet her eyes and James just smiled amused. "Now you both have a room with a lock yes?" James nodded. "Good. Use them. Good day." She waved them off and disappeared back down the stairs. Zilpha had taken a deep breath and looked back up at him with a giggle.

She was one of the best people both siblings knew. And she only proved to be more than that when his father had pissed someone off and they came for Zilpha as revenge. He also remembered that nightmare of a night too clearly.

He had come into the back door, pausing when he'd heard a man shouting, Zilpha sobbing, and Andromeda quietly talking. He silently moved through the kitchen, grabbing a knife and peeking into the foyer. A dirty looking man was standing in the middle of the foyer with a gun pointed at Zilpha who was standing infront of the stairs, Andromeda behind her on the second step. "Please. Shes just a girl. She had nothing to do with any of this." Andromeda was saying in a calm, hushed tone. "Shut up!" The man yelled back clearly irritated. "Look mister. You're angry. I get it. I've been there. But don't take an innocent girls life for something so trivial. The safes are upstairs. I will open them for you. Take whatever you want. Just not her." The man growled. "I dont want money or jewels. He can get those back. He can't get her back." He clicked off the safety and James snuck behind him, rasing the knife. The man must've seen Zilphas expression because before he could plunge the knife into the man's neck he fired. It all happened in slow motion. Andromeda kicked Zilpha to the floor and out of the way. And within a blink of an eye Andromeda was against the stairs. A dazed look in her eyes as blood seeped through her white dress, staining her chest. James plunged the knife into the man's throat repeatedly until he was sure the man was no longer breathing and rushed to the stairs to Andromeda. She wasnt making a sound but her eyes were moving. Like she was seeing something no one else could. Zilpha sobbed and crawled her way up to the maid and held her hand tightly. James pulled her head up, his eyes wet. "Andromeda! Hey! Andy!" He yelled to her through a cracked voice. She didn't answer him but her eyes met his. "Dont you dare. Don't you dare leave us!" She gave a small smile and looked over at Zilpha who couldn't control her heavy sobbing. And she closed her eyes, her chest stopped moving and her body went heavy. The door burst open and Horace Delaney made his appearance. He took in the man's body on the floor and his two children sobbing over his maids body on the stairs and his blood ran cold. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!"

James was sure that the was the one and only time his father had felt true, unadulterated guilt and sadness. He had paid for the finest funeral for Andromeda and the finest tombstone in the finest cemetery London had to offer. Brace had broken that day. He had never been the same. He'd taken to drinking and putting up a fake front for everyone else. James had pulled back from Zilpha. He'd started taking an interest in the east India company and had eventually gone on that trip to Africa where he'd almost died and disappeared for 10 years. Zilpha was guilt ridden. She had put it into her mind that it was her fault that Andy was dead. That if she had been braver and not such a little girl Andy would still be alive. James called it survivors guilt. And he knew exactly how she felt now after the sinking of the Influence. He had seen Andy many a time in his visions and dreams. Always there lecturing him on his troublesome ways and stupid plans. And when his mother had tried to drown him in the lake for the first time she had gone head to head with the woman. She was his protector even now. He just felt it. So he made it a routine once a week every Friday to buy flowers and leave them on her grave. An offering. A thank you for all her hard work in life and in the afterlife as his guardian

Hmm. Send which Tom Hardy character you'd like an imagine for with one of these. Id like to try this out 🤔

Send a symbol for my muse’s reaction to your muse:

❅ = wanting to build a snowman

✾ = bringing them a dozen roses

✛ = telling them they want kids

✎ = leaving a note

♛ = tucking them in bed

♠ = asking them for a loan

♘ = telling them a secret

✉ = texting them at 4 a.m.

♬ = whistling off-key very loudly

☆ = pointing out a shooting star