#ivar ragnarsson au imagine

summary: Ivar is the Sergeant at Arms in the Devil’s Vessels MC. You are his girlfriend and he tries to keep you out of his deals but they are going through a particularly nasty one with the English, and the club decides that it is safer for their women to know instead of remaining in the dark.

WARNINGS:swearing, mentions of physical and mental abuse

A/N:I’ve been working on this for two weeks now, hoping you guys like it. I was kind of thinking about doing a miniseries about the brothers and their women in this particular AU if this is popular enough, also THIS IMAGINE IS PRETTY LONG (9 pages on google docs)

Ivar’s eyes wandered around the table, looking menacingly down at the newly patched in members. He didn’t trust them, the last new member that they patched in had ended up betraying them, given he didn’t get very far with their secrets, and Ivar killed him without a second thought. It’s not like devotion to the club was a new concept for him, and in fact he didn’t mind doing the dirty work. On occasion, he craved blood, and conflict was always welcome, so long as confidential information about the club did not escape the confines of the members minds, and as long as you were a safe distance from harm. Ivar admired how you always understood that he didn’t want to talk about club business with you unless the situation permitted, and you never asked him to stop doing the dangerous work. You knew that without the club, Ivar wouldn’t really know what to do with himself. 

Bjorn cleared his throat suddenly, drawing Ivar out of his thoughts. “Ivar, the English are demanding more guns. You’re my Sergeant at Arms, do we have the means to provide?”

Ivar folded his hands in his lap. “We have the means, but I think our time would be better spent elsewhere at this point. We cannot have them thinking that we will be at their side as soon as they ask it, after all.” 

Ubbe nodded in agreement. “I hear they have a civil war brewing, we do not want mass murder connected to our guns.”

“We’ll have to deal with their wrath when we tell them that we are no longer going to provide. Therefore, I think we should tell our women about what has been happening. It is better for them to not be in the dark. If it does get nasty, we need to move everyone into the clubhouse. We’ll take a vote on everything before we leave.”

Ivar came home to you that night exhausted. He hung his kutte up on the coat rack and walked to the kitchen, where you were sitting at the table, coffee cup clutched in your hand. You looked up and smiled, kissing him before he sat down across from you. “We have some business to discuss, my love. Club business.” 

Your hands clenching down on the mug did not go unnoticed by Ivar, so he reached over and took one between his fingers, squeezing lightly. “Am I the only woman that is being involved?”

He shook his head. “No, all the old ladies are being brought into the loop in case something happens.” It was hard for him to tell you about anything. You were strong, stronger than any woman he knew, but he kept you out of this for a reason- to keep you safe. His biggest concern was if telling you would help or hurt the situation, but he didn’t have a choice in that, Bjorn had decided, and that was final.

So he started with how the club got into bed with the English in the first place. It had started with their father Ragnar looking to expand the club, and you knew that, but you had thought the business with the English to be done when Ragnar died. Ivar told you that it never ended there, the sons of Ragnar killed Aella, and then went to business with his rival in England. The trading started off with a small order of fifty guns, and then the demands became larger. “We have received intel that our guns are being used in civil street warfare. Innocents have been killed, and we have decided not to supply them with the means to kill anymore. The women have been brought in because we think the English will retaliate, and I need you to be ready to get to the clubhouse and stay as soon as I tell you to.” Your hands were shaking in his, he brought both to his mouth and kissed one knuckle on each, then motioned for you to stand. Ivar’s arm circled your back and swept under your knees, carrying you down the hall to your bedroom.

“You have to come back to me, Ivar. If a deal goes south, you have to promise to come back.”

Ivar’s hand cradled the back of your head, kissed your forehead, and pulled you closer to him, his strong arms keeping you in place while he whispered to you. “I’ll always come back for you. Nothing and no one will keep me away. Do you understand, kitten?”

That night was stuck in Ivar’s head as he pulled up next to his brothers in the old warehouse the English had agreed to meet them in. Bjorn, Ubbe, and Hvitserk all looked a bit distracted, their faces plastered with a hard expression to remain strong. Ivar pulled his helmet from his head and glared in the direction of the open door. “How did Margrethe take the news, Ubbe?”

He chuckled half- heartedly, like he was trying to relieve the tension that would only get worse once he said something. Ubbe stared at the ground for a good minute before he ran his index finger and thumb across his eyebrows to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I think she’s gone fucking insane.” All of the brothers looked at him for a moment, trying to assess if he was serious about what he was saying. “She did not talk to me the rest of the night, she wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. It’s like I broke her.” Hvitserk patted Ubbe’s shoulder in comfort and then they looked to Bjorn, who answered without having to be asked.

“Torvi has been involved in sour deals before, but that was previous to our children. She has arranged for them to stay with her parents on the East Coast until the smoke has cleared, she is worried about them having a father after this is done more than anything else.” Before they could say anything else, they were surrounded by black pickups and SUV’s, but only three people stepped out: Aethelwulf and his two sons.

The brothers did not move from their bikes save for Bjorn and Ubbe, who came to the center of the gathering with their arms crossed over their chest. “Why did you need to meet with me? Do we need a change of transport?” Aethelwulf kept his hands folded in front of him, his two sons stepping back so that their father was at the front. Everyone became silent, not trusting what would happen next. “Is there a problem I should know about, gentleman?”

Bjorn was the first to speak, his eyes darting from Aethelwulf to his sons. “You made a demand rather than a request last time I spoke with you. The Devils Vessels MC does not bow to demands.” Aethelwulf stepped closer, his eyes narrowing menacingly. Sigurd and Ivar stepped forward now, flanking Bjorn and Ubbe, who placed their hands on the guns that were nestled between the waistband of their jeans. “Do not get closer. It will end badly, Aethelwulf, I warn you.”

“You will not deny me my guns, my ammo, the spark that I need. I have to ask why the sudden change of heart? Besides the demanding.”

“We didn’t realize you were using the guns to fight a civil war, and to kill innocent people.” Ubbe said, and Aethelwulf glanced in his direction, nodding.

Aethelwulf stepped back to his sons, and the Lothbrok brothers folded into themselves, lining up to get back on their bikes now. The boys straddled the motorcycles and watched Aethelwulf as he stopped at the door to one of the SUV’s. “Boys!” He grinned. “I always get what I want, whether it be by force or will.” Before they could blink, he produced a gun and aimed. The brothers shouted warnings, but before they could duck down, the bullet rang in the air.

One hit Siguard’s shoulder, the other in between his eyes. All Ivar felt was the warm spray on his neck. His brother was hunched over his bike beside him, the blood pouring down the sleek paint from the wounds. Bjorn screamed out in rage, tears threatening to spill over, fists clenched and raised at his sides. Ubbe drew his weapon, firing shots while the vehicles pulled away, the bullets taking out the glass. The motorcycles fired up just moments later, and the boys rode with guns pointed in the direction of the caravan. Ivar felt numb, his brothers blood was coating the backside of him, and somehow he was out here with Bjorn, Ubbe, and Hvitserk. He felt nothing, how was that possible? Ivar was not at all close to Sigurd, but shouldn’t he have felt something other than empty? He wasn’t mad, or unhappy, he was just indifferent.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what you would say, what the look on your face would be when he showed up at home looking like that. He was sure you would be horrified, ask what happened, what went wrong. And he would have to tell you, because war was brewing even now, as they sped down the roads at the highest speeds they could handle to catch up with demons. Ivar felt that he had failed at protecting you from his life in the club, couldn’t shelter you from the horrors and the loss that living this kind of life came with. But what else could he do? He couldn’t stand to be without you, and you wanted to take these chances for him. Who was he to control you?

Ivar threw his kutte down on the laundry room floor and joined you in the shower after stripping himself of his clothes. You shuddered when the rush of cold air hit you, but it was immediately replaced by his warmth. Ivar turned you to face him, his hands cupping your cheeks as he brought you up to kiss him. When he pulled away, you grabbed the loofa from behind him and turned his back to you. You tried to hold in the gasp when you saw the blood that was now washing down his back. Ivar’s shoulders tensed and you continued onto the task, putting soap on the loofa and rubbing it across his back.

Lounging on the couch later on, Ivar cradled you between his legs, his arms resting on your chest. He knew you would ask him what happened at some point, why all that blood was there, but you started off with a question he didn’t expect. “What happened at that deal today?”

Ivar went silent. “How did you find out about that?”

“Torvi called before you got home. She told me to ask you about it.” You spun and faced him, adjusting your legs so that you were straddling him, your arms around his neck, his hands resting on your hips. “So what happened?” Ivar considered for awhile. How was he supposed to answer that? When a few minutes passed and he still didn’t say anything, you put a hand on his shoulder. “Ivar, it’s okay to tell me. Let me protect you for once.”

“Sigurd is dead. We told the English we wouldn’t sell them guns anymore, and Aethelwulf shot him. Twice.” You knew he didn’t harbor any love for his late brother Sigurd, but you still leaned forward and embraced him, pressing him close to your chest, as close as he could get. “We’ve made the decision to move our women into the clubhouse. I need you to have your stuff packed because we are leaving tomorrow morning, plan to stay for a week.” He held you tighter.

“Do you think they will come after us?”

He knew that you didn’t want to hear him say yes, even if that was what he thought. One of his hands moved up higher to hold the nape of your neck, the arm fitting snugly around your waist. He only wanted to comfort you, but with a question like that, he wasn’t sure how. Finally, Ivar sighed and kissed your shoulder. “I’m going to do my best to protect you, Y/N. I’ll kill anyone that lays a hand on you, that’s a promise.” Ivar kissed you, capturing your lips in a sensuous, slow burning fire, his hands caressing your face gently, like he would break if he pressed on your skin just a little bit. “I’ll always take care of you, angel.”

You weren’t allowed to leave, that was all you knew. You were more vulnerable if you left, especially without Ivar or one of the boys to protect you. Ivar made it his personal rule that you wouldn’t leave the clubhouse without him or one of his brothers, but you were not to leave with a member or a prospect, he didn’t trust them with you that much.

Torvi was sitting at the bar with a drink in her hand, you behind mixing more. It was only the girls right now, all the men were out riding, finding more help to deal with the English that were breathing down their necks. Margrethe was sulking on the couch in the corner, some of the groupies hanging around with her, hoping to become an old lady like her. Torvi was not fond of Margrethe, and you were on the fence, but in the end she just needed help. The two of you were trying to remain strong, be role models for the other girls, but it was hard to do so when you weren’t sure if you would see the men that you loved. “Do the kids know why they are going with their grandparents?”

Torvi shook her head. “I told them that it was because I would be very busy for a few weeks. My parents know, I made sure to prepare them for anything that could come. My father is chief of police over where they live, so they will be living with a protective police detail.” She swirled the small black straw in her drink for a moment, and then sighed, blinking back tears. “They just love Bjorn so much. I can only hope he is spared in this fight.”

You nodded. “He’ll be okay. Bjorn loves his children more than life, he will make sure to get back alive.”

“What about Ivar?”

You poured yourself a drink then. “We have a life to build together. He promised that he would come back to me, that he would protect me.” You looked up at her then. “I have to hold onto that.” The two of you remained silent while the groupies continued their worried chatter, expressing their concern for the men, even the ones that were taken. You didn’t mind though, Ivar only had eyes for you, and the rest of the women were too scared to even look at him. When the chatter finally stopped, it was quiet, eerily so. Torvi stood from the bar and looked out the window for a moment, her eyebrows crinkling while she stared intently. “What’s going on?”

Her eyes widened and she began screaming commands. “Get in the rooms, go!” You glanced to see what she was so worried about. The English had broken into the compound, their guns were poised at the clubhouse as they approached quickly. “Y/N, we have to go.” You nodded and took the gun from underneath the counter, grabbing a knife to give to Torvi. “We have to go now!” You began to run down the hallways just as they burst through the door, bullets blazing trails in the walls.

You grabbed Torvi’s arm and pulled her to you. “They can climb out the windows, Margrethe can start getting them out. Go!” Torvi went to start the mission while you stayed back, your finger pushing down on the trigger more times than you could count. The men were advancing quickly, one person with a pistol was nothing compared to five men and machine guns. You shot a good few dead, and when the gun was empty, you ran. Ivar’s room was low to the ground, if you could get there and get out, you would be okay, you knew it. The noise of the men shouting at one another was deafening, and they were getting closer, they were faster than you. Your breaths were getting faster and more ragged, your legs tired and unsteady.

A hand reached out and grabbed your arm, swinging your entire body back to theirs. Your hand gripped the pistol tighter and smashed the butt of the gun against his temple, but his strength kept you pinned to him as he fell. The men took the opportunity to grab your arms and haul you up, even as you fought against them, they didn’t stop walking. “Let go of me!” You kicked and screamed but to no avail, they were too strong for you. Finally, they stopped in front of a black SUV, a man with curly hair and a beard grinned.

“I’m Aethelwulf. Your name?”

“Kiss my ass.” You finished off the sentence by spitting in his face, scowling while he wiped at it with his sleeve.

“Boys, shut her up, won’t you?” Your eyes widened and you started kicking again, hoping to get free of them. One man held you while the other raised his gun and smacked it against the back of your head. “Put her in the back, and bind her hands and feet. We can’t have her escaping on us.”

They had been torturing you for days, leaving a deep gash at the top of your cheek that was identical to Ivar’s. They also gave you a busted lip and left you badly bruised. Aethelwulf was relentless about getting information from you, beating you until you were screaming but not badly enough so that you would die. He kept you on a 24 hour watch, so no one could get to you except him and his sons. He made sure you were completely at his mercy all the time, and you didn’t know about the trick he had up his sleeve. The last time he interrogated you, he made sure he got in your head. “You really think you aren’t going to tell me?”

“Since I’m not a rat, you won’t be getting anything out of me.”

He nodded and sighed. “Ivar knows you’re here.” He smirked when he saw your eyebrows raise. “You were the prize in that raid. He had an old debt, you were the payment.” You dropped your head, tears welling in your eyes. Was this true? No, Ivar wouldn’t trade you, he loved you too much. “We’re still figuring out what to do with you, since you are ours to do with as we please now.”

He raised his eyebrows suggestively, a smirk playing on his lips. You scoffed, “I won’t be your whore.”

Aethelwulf chuckled a bit. “Sweetheart, you might not have a choice.”

Ivar, Bjorn, and Ubbe worked tirelessly to make a deal with the English to get you back. Ivar barely slept, he always tried to reach for you in the night but came up empty. When he was by himself, he cried at his loss, fearing he would never see you again, or you would come back in pieces- whether your mind was in pieces, or your physical state. His work in the club got more intense, he rode alone at night, worked on the bikes or cars in his free time, anything to keep himself distracted.

Now, sitting at the table with just his brothers, they waited for him to look at anything but the wall. Ubbe glanced at Bjorn every now and then to see if he would say anything. When a few minutes passed, Bjorn put a hand on Ivar’s shoulder and brought him out of his daze. “Ivar, we are going to get her back.”

He nodded. “I just don’t want her to be abused. I am so worried her mind will come back to me broken.” The brothers didn’t respond to that, just assured him that they would get you back. They planned for days, negotiating back and forth with the English while Aethelwulf taunted them over the phone about what he was doing to you. As each day passed, Ivar got more and more aggressive and vengeful, wanting you back so badly. Now, today, Bjorn had news for Ivar. “What’s happening in the negotiations?”

“We’ve come to an agreement.” Ivar moved to the edge of his seat. “We will provide them with five more shipments of guns and they will find a new supplier, in return, they will give us Y/N back.”

Just days later, you were sat in the back of the black SUV, Aethelwulf’s sons sitting on either side of you, inspecting you while you shrank further and further into yourself. “Where are you taking me?”

“Shut up.” Aethelwulf barked from the front seat, and you let the rest of the ride pass in silence. The driver pulled up to an empty lot, save for the line of motorcycles on the other side of the field.

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw three of them approaching the SUV, guns hung at their sides. “Ivar.” You breathed it like it was a prayer. He had come for you, he was here. The two boys beside you scoffed, but you paid no mind, all you could do was stare. His hair was braided back, his sharp and handsome features standing out, his leather kutte clinging to his shoulders in the sweltering heat of the day. Aethelwulf knocked on the back window and the boy scooted out, reaching back in to pull you across the seat and out into the light. Aethelwulf cut the bonds on your hands but held onto your wrists, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You could hear Ivar protesting him touching you in the background.

“You’re lucky they had the guns, you would have made a great meal for my men.” He growled it to you and then shoved you toward Ivar. You ran to him, across the dusty field to his open arms, crashing into him. His strong arms held you up and spun you around, his fingers digging into your skin to keep you in place.

You were crying, holding onto him as tightly as you could. He dropped you onto the ground, his back bending to accommodate your height difference. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” Ivar held you tight while he held your face in his hands, kissing you hard and feverishly, your hands dropping to his waist. You were finally home, finally there with him, and you could never be happier to be with this man.