he's so old that his scalp moves

Happiness (Ivar the Boneless x Reader)

Warnings : Uh, pain? Cute Ivar, Dad Ivar.
Word count: 1404.

Originally posted by whenimaunicorn

A/N: Here goes nothing… It’s short and I’m sorry. I kinda like the beginning but the end is shit, as per usual.

You can read my Alex imagines here and here.

@rachiieee, @dangerousvikings, @bitchccraft, @sconniebelle, @ivartrash, @thinemineours , @ivars-heathen @taintedlittlesweetpea


Little wet hairs stuck to your forehead as another wave of agonizing pain shoot through your entire body. A throaty groan left your lips, your head falling back into the furs you were lying on – they were rigid and irritated your soft skin, but it was the least of your problems. You propped yourself on your elbows when the pain subsided, knowing very well that another hit was coming within seconds.

You growled as the little brunette thrall put a wet cloth on your burning shoulders, scaring her off – but you couldn’t care less, another wave was coming sooner than expected. And gods this one hit you hard. You barely registered the words of the old woman kneeling between your parted legs as you felt a sudden urge to push. And so you did, with all your force. Gritting your teeth and shutting your eyes you focused on this sole action, praying to the gods, begging them to deliver you from the pain. But as the sigh that left the woman’s chapped lips reached your ears you knew it was all for nothing and let yourself fall back down, defeated.

It’s been hours and you haven’t progressed at all. A loud sob ripped through you, tears filling your eyes and blurring your vision. Your hands flew to your hair, grabbing it tightly and pulling at it in frustration. You couldn’t do it.

Shaking your head, you whimpered. You could feel their eyes on you, filled with worry and pity. Looking down you caught the old woman’s gaze. Her grey eyebrows were furrowed but she managed to give you a small smile, trying to comfort you.

“I- ” Your throat was dry and ached after all the crying and screaming – whole Kattegat must have heard you. You winced, swallowing down trying to sooth it. “I can’t do it.”

“Y/N, we’re almost there. You’re doing so-” She said calmly, her hand rubbing circles into your calf but you cut her off.

You knew it was a lie. You’ve been lying here, exposed, since this morning. Resting in the middle of the cabin in the same position, pushing over and over, to no avail. You were exhausted, your limbs felt numb and you could barely move. You just wanted to get it over with, but you couldn’t do it alone.

“No.” You snapped. “I can’t do it on my own. I need him.” You watched her exchange a look with one of the thralls, a petite redhead you did not even recognise. After a few painfully long seconds she nodded towards the door and you let out a long breath, relieved that your husband was going to be there, by your side, in a moment.

Just as the door opened, the muscles in your core tightened – pain taking over your body once again. Your eyes widened, alarmed, and you looked up to the ceiling shaking your head vigorously. No, no, no. Tears ran down your face as you tried, one more time, to push the child out. You were so close to giving up, so close to yelling at all the thralls and the healer to get out and leave you alone when a warm hand gripped yours, making you lift you head.

Your eyes met with icy blue ones and you smiled tiredly as your husband moved closer to you, sitting on the furs and letting you rest your head on his lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You said as the contraction passed. Closing your eyes you rubbed your cheek against the harsh material of his pants, taking in the familiar scent of your man.

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.” He praised, his voice unusually calm. A warm feeling spread in your chest when you looked up at Ivar. His eyes were full of love, admiration and a hint of what you believed was concern.

But seeing him here, holding your hand tightly as he brushed your hair away from your face with the other, gave you strength. And for the first time since it all started, you were ready for the next blow.

“I love you.” You whispered as you felt it coming, starting in your stomach then moving down. You shut your eyes closed, squeezing your husband’s hand as you pushed for the umpteenth time. Bending down, Ivar’s lips ghosted over your sweaty forehead.

“You’re doing amazing, love.” He kissed you softly, his free hand massaging your scalp. “Just like that, you’re almost done.” He smiled as the old woman between your legs gave him a firm nod, letting him know it was working. So he kept on talking to you, whispering sweet words only for you to hear. Encouraging and praising you, telling you how proud of you he was and how impatient he was to meet your child. Your child. A little human being that you have created.

It only took a few more pushes, a few more minutes, and all of sudden you felt empty. Panicked, you opened your eyes and immediately looked up to your husband. But he wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were focused on something else, his mouth agape. And then you heard it, the loudest yet the most comforting cry you’ve ever heard. You barely had time to react, to move, when the child was placed on your chest.

“It’s a boy.” The healer said softly before standing up, mentioning to all the slaves to follow her out, leaving you and your husband alone with your new born son.

“He’s beautiful.” You said after a couple of minutes, running your finger gently down his cheek. And he truly was, even covered in your blood. A soft laugh left your parted lips as your son fussed in your arms, getting into a more comfortable position before settling down. He was gorgeous. The prettiest baby you have ever seen. You could look at him for hours.

You pulled yourself up higher, resting your back against Ivar’s chest, and you sat there in the dimly lit room.

The calming silence was cut by a soft whimper coming from your left. You turned slowly, careful not to frighten the little bundle of joy sleeping in your arms. Your lips curved into a smile at the sight of your husband, the fearless Ivar the Boneless, brushing tears off his reddened cheeks.

You’ve never seen him cry before. Not even when he learnt that his mother was killed. Seeing him this vulnerable in front of his first born son, with tears stains on his puffy cheeks and his eyes still shining, made you smile with joy and pride.

“What do you want to name him?” You asked, catching his attention. His wide blue eyes met your E/C ones. He kissed you quickly before answering, already having a name in mind.

“Kalei.” He said, his hand moving to his son’s head, touching him for the first time. He caressed his dark hair carefully, as if he was going to break him.

“Kalei.” You repeated, testing the name. “I love it.” You placed your lips on Ivar’s cheek, kissing him softly before turning your attention back to the infant. As if he had sensed it, Kalei opened his big eyes, blinking furiously a few times before focusing on something, or more like someone. You could hear your husband’s breath hitch at that exact moment.  

“Thank you.” Ivar said not breaking eye contact with his son, bringing an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He thought he would never be able to please a woman, even less to have a child. But everything changed when he met you. You took your time with him, reassured him, loved him. And now, you gave him a son. A beautiful, healthy son. He’ll always be grateful to the gods for bringing you together, for letting him have a son. And he’ll never thank you enough for giving him the one thing he thought he would never have.

You smiled gently at your lover, pecking his lips once more. The way he looked so lovingly at your son made you forget all the pain, all the crying you went through. It was rare to see him like this, to see him genuinely happy. So the pain, the screams, they were all worth it. You couldn’t wait to watch him show your child off to his brothers, to his men – to the whole world.


Just letting y’all know that the title is “Happiness” because Kalei means happiness so yeah byeee (yes, I’m 100% ashamed of that fic)

mellarkablegirl  asked:

Hello! Are you planning on extending the Come on Baby, Light my Fire series? (P.S Its amazing) If yes then here's a new word prompt you could use : Malapert - Clever in manners of speech

You thought I forgot about this, didn’t you @mellarkablegirl? SURPRISE! It’s Firefighter Friday!!!


Part 1: Grapholagnia

Part 2: Neighbors/We meet again

Part 3: Callipygian

Part 4: Apodyopis

Part 5: Gymnophoria

Part 6: Mamihlapinatapei

Part 7: Basorexia

Part 8: Coitus

Part 9: Hypersexuality


Come On Baby, Light My Fire: Part 10 - Malapert

Does it count as a first date if you wake in the person’s arms?

We lounge in bed, drifting between awake and asleep, Peeta’s fingertips skating over my legs and hips, etching cool patterns or maybe words into my skin. It’s such a luxury to wile away the hours this way. We get up to eat, but it isn’t until early afternoon that we’re both awake and willing enough to actually go on our hiking date.

I dress in cotton pants and a t-shirt, tugging on a hooded sweatshirt for warmth. Peeta leaves me for a few minutes to dress in his apartment and returns garbed much the way I am, his black backpack slung over one shoulder.

It doesn’t feel like a first date as I drive us out of town, since Peeta apparently doesn’t own a car, preferring to walk or use public transportation to get around the city. We talk and laugh, the windows down and the crisp fall air making a tangled mess of flyaways even though I braided my hair. I tell him about the time my father and I got ourselves chased up a tree by a black bear when we plucked berries from a bush he’d apparently already laid claim to. And as I park in one of the lots at the trailhead near Lake Panem, I realize that I’ve never been this comfortable on a first date before.

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snow in april (chapter 1 of 8)

deadalive au, casefile

Dealing with the fallout from Mulder’s return, Mulder and Scully find themselves in the midst of a strange case in a small town.

If there was some kind of self-help book for coming back from the dead, Mulder was considering buying a copy. Or investing in one. Maybe Billy Miles could help him if he wasn’t a dangerous super soldier who had an alien virus that Mulder himself had narrowly escaped. (He was going through a bit of a crisis, to put it mildly.)

Scully hadn’t wanted to tell him any details about his ordeal - she’d looked on the verge of crying almost constantly these past few days - so it had been the wiry man who’d shown up at his hotel room, the New Partner, who’d explained everything. Skinner had helped, something of a sheepish, embarrassed look on his face. (Mulder suspected he felt guilty about what had happened in Oregon. He should reassure Skinner that it wasn’t his fault.) And Scully had slumped in the chair by his bed, one hand curled around her clearly-pregnant stomach and the other clamped hard around his hand, clutching at his fingers like he might slip away. She stared at her knees the entire time. At one point, Mulder thought he saw a tear hit her nose.

Doggett looked uncomfortable - was he scared of the fact that Mulder was perpetually a zombie or just awkward in social situations? - but he shook Mulder’s hand and said it was nice to meet him and he had heard a lot of good things from “Agent Scully”. Mulder nodded awkwardly and wished he’d never gone to Oregon.

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Lightning (Cat Boy!Jimin)

Plot: #36: “You’re so clingy, I love it.” + #37: “You’re cute when you’re all worried.” + #32: “Come on, baby, up to bed.” + #21: “I don’t do hugs.” with cat boy!Jimin

Word Count: 818

A/N: so I for some reason just really felt like writing a drabble?? I have no idea why but it just sounds so fun to me rn so I’m gonna write one, this one kinda ties into a couple other scenarios/drabbles I’ve done, Rain (here) and Thunder (here) so I’m just gonna declare it a trilogy, it isn’t required to read either of the other parts, you can read any of them on their own and of course, the link for this post is cat boy!Jimin (here)

You knew how Jimin felt about thunderstorms. Rain was enough to get him grumbling complaints under his breath but the sound of thunder, the flash of lightning in the distance, sent him scrambling under the bed, under the blankets, anywhere he felt safe. You could see his eyes staring up at the dark clouds in the sky as you two walked into the store, needing more food for the movie night you planned to have.

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Random blurb from the Sith!AU

I wrote this with gen in mind but you can read this as shippy if you want idc  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[Obi is roughly 19 here]

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Stormy Goodbye’s (Bias X Reader)

Your head is pressed under the pillow, trying to drown out the sound of B/N singing to the top of his lungs. With an exasperated sigh, you grab your phone off the dresser beside your bed, looking at the time. 8:12am. 

“Babe, what the hell,” you mumble, squeezing the pillow tighter. You know he’s leaving on tour in a few days and you try to contain your annoyance but you’re a light sleeper. And although he was in the basement that is his studio, practicing, he still woke you up. 

After a few more more minutes of trying to sleep, you fling your pillow against the wall in a minor fit of rage. You hated being woken up in the middle of sleeping. Especially by noise. 

You march down the steps, nearly slipping on your pajama pants that are too long, opening the basement door. He sees you, the mic in his hand, holding the other out to you. When you make no move towards him, he takes your hand, holding you against him as he sings into the mic. He’s happy.

You want to stay mad. You want to go back to sleep. But his voice is so sweet and welcoming that you groan in annoyance, resting your head roughly on his shoulder. After his song is over, he puts the mic down. 

“I woke you,” he says, not bothering to ask since he already knows.

“How did you know?” you ask sarcastically. 

He tips your chin up with a slight smile, “Anyone can tell when you’re pissed,” he puts the mic down and turns off the equipment.

“I always look pissed. It’s called chronic bitch face,” 

“That too,” he says agreeing with you, which you almost don’t want him to. You turn, heading for the stairs when he calls out, “Want to go out? Since you’re already up,” 

“Where this early?” 

“I don’t know, the beach?” 

You sigh, still feeling miserable, going up the stairs anyway. You fall on the bed, the sun already rising, moving the much needed darkness aside. You won’t be going back to sleep anytime soon. You pull the blanket over your head when you feel the weight of the bed dip beside you. 

He places a hand on your shoulder, “Let’s go out for some breakfast,” you give no response and he shakes you a bit, “Come on…” 

“Fine,” you say, throwing the covers off and getting to your feet. Just when you do, thunder claps seemingly right above you and the rain starts to trail down the window. 

You sigh, wanting to cry and you’re not sure why. You just want to sleep. You sit back on the bed, pulling the blanket over you again.

“Come on, babe. It’s just rain.” 

“With hair like mine, it’s never just rain,” 

He tugs on one of your curls, “Hey, the bigger the hair, the harder they stare, right?” 

You release a whining sound, wanting him to shut up but not to leave at the same time. What’s wrong with me? You know his patience is wearing thin too by his shallow sigh.

He comes under the blanket anyway and sits on top of you. You take the pillow, putting it over your face but he removes that too. 

“What are you doing?” you ask but then he scoots down some, and lays his head on your chest. 

“Play in my hair,” he request and when you make no move to do so, he takes your hand and places it on his head. You sigh, running your fingers through it, and massaging his scalp slightly. He snuggles under your chin, putting his arms around you as best. 

“How old are you?” you ask, smiling despite yourself. 

“I always play in your hair,” he mumbles and you know he’s feeling sleepy. How long has he been practicing? “I’ll turn down the music next time, okay?” 

You nod, feeling a bit bad for getting mad in the first place. 

“You’re going to miss me singing the house down when I’m gone though,” he leans over you on his hands, pressing his forehead against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you as you feel your throat tighten. You take in a quick breath, fighting back the tears. 

“No, no, no, babe please,” he says sitting up. He holds you close, rubbing small circles in your back as he buries his face in your shoulder, “Don’t cry. You’re usually stronger than this,” he gives a slight chuckle, but even his voice cracks. 

But despite yourself, the tears actually flow. When he leaves on these tours, you usually hold yourself together before he goes, not wanting to worry him. But when he’s gone, you’re a mess for the first couple weeks. It was easier for him to leave, but it would be hard as time went on without him. Watching him at concerts, the fans having more of him than you did. It would make you laugh out of bitterness. But this time, you just wanted him to stay.

He sits back, wiping your face with his fingers. Then he uses his shirt sleeve to wipe your nose, “Ew,” he laughs, his own eyes glistening, “I’ll be back, and you’ll get mad at me for playing the music too loud, like always,” 

“Sing loud so I can get even more mad,” you sniff. 

“Of course,” he smiles, cradling your face. You sit close to him for a few more minutes, with him rubbing your cheek with his thumb. His eyes are on yours the entire time and he starts to smile. 

“What?” you ask. He cradles the back of your neck, bringing you close to him as he kisses you. A few pecks at first, then deeper and lingering. 

“Did you brush your teeth?” he suddenly asks. 

“Did you?” you fire back. 

He bites his lip, shaking his head, “Touché,” 


I’ve noticed my reader babies have been getting bored with my other series (as am I honestly,) so I started a lingering request. I’m also still getting a hang of screen shot request.

I also imagined Zico and JB as the guy in this one (and they’re not even my Block B and Got7 UB’s!!) Who did you guys imagine? 

anonymous asked:

can you write one where you're dating Cristiano and you meet Karim and his daughter (recently single) and you end up helping him out with his daughter babysitting her w Cristiano one night and getting her ready for school the next day and then meeting back up w Karim etc thanks babe 💙💙

Babysitting (Cristiano Ronaldo Imagine)

You and Cristiano walk hand in hand as you quickly made your way from his car to the entrance of his son’s school. Inside there were already a handful of parents picking up their children. You look around and quickly wave over your boyfriend’s first born. He gives you toothy smile before running to where you and Cristiano were. Cristiano was treated to a big hug before he gave you one. Cristiano mentioned wanting to talk to Junior’s teacher before leaving and you nod, waiting on the sidelines while your boys went to do their business,

It is then you notice a familiar figure on the corner of your eye. You’ve seen the guy before, he was your boyfriend’s teammate before but you two were never formally introduced.

“Hi.” You greeted him.

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anonymous asked:

5, the reunion kiss

this was from a coliver prompt list AGES ago that i had wrote… but accidentally deleted and never got back (it was a very dark moment for me) but! 2 months later I finally rewrote it! 

Connor huffed, tapping his fingers against his thigh, craning his neck this way and that, peering over the mass of hair and hats as he attempted to single out a familiar face. He started bouncing on the balls of his feet, head snapping to the arrivals board and back to the gate where Oliver would be exiting from any second now.

A 6-month business trip to Japan was already hard enough to deal with, especially with Oliver carefully bringing it up to Connor, practically asking for his permission. Connor wanted to say no, he’d hoped that through the years living with Oliver that his clingy, protective hold over Oliver would eventually dissipate, but it had only gotten stronger. But Connor was practicing, he was trying to be a good fiance; allowing Oliver more freedom in his life, as the older man always granted upon Connor. So he had swallowed down the urge to force Oliver to stay, and instead let excitement travel through him, because this was a fantastic opportunity for Oliver, he’d be making huge connections overseas, not to mention the paychecks he’d be bringing home.

So Connor enthusiastically told Oliver to go, that he’d be fine. They had Skype, after all. It was when Oliver sighed in relief, his shoulders relaxing, that Connor knew that Oliver wanted to go all along.

But when Oliver called a few months in and informed Connor that the 6-month trip had extended to a year, Connor flipped shit.

What could they possibly need you there another 6 months for, Oliver?”

They offered me a job, Connor!” Oliver’s happiness slipped through the frustrated clip in his voice. “It pays 10k a week, please tell me how I’m supposed to say no to that?”

Connor had been raking his fingers through his carefully combed hair, clutching and pulling at the roots painfully as he attempted to collect himself at work.

And after a few more exchanges about how they’d stay in touch, about their future and what this money could do for them, and general placating from Oliver, Connor gave a resigned sigh, agreeing that this would be for the best.

They discussed holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, but it never worked out. Both their schedules  too hectic to even consider taking a day off, so they settle with Skype video chats: Connor showing Oliver on Christmas how he decorated the apartment, Oliver showing Conner the 2-foot tree he had set up on a table in his closet apartment.

Connor never told Oliver how he cried himself to sleep the night Oliver’s scent finally left his pillow, how he had let the apartment become a mess of discarded clothes and paper work and dishes in the sink. He didn’t tell Oliver about the countless nights spent curled up in bed, wearing Oliver’s pajamas and clicking through photos of him on his phone over and over again while he waited for his Good Morning Text from Oliver.

He did tell Oliver about how he won his first major case; a man sentenced to death row for a crime he didn’t commit. The trail had lasted months, Connor working himself to the bone as new evidence arose and was quickly shot down. Oliver congratulated him in Japanese and they had incredible, teasing  phone sex that they’d never been able to pull off since.

At the airport, Connor’s heart stops, constraining his chest with a painful halt before kicking back up again in double time. His eyes meet Oliver’s and it’s like the world around him vanishes.

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