Ivar the Boneless Imagines

Extra Marshmallows

When you suggested coming to this tiny little wooden cabin that his father left in his name, he never expected that it would get this cold this fast. Flakes of snowy ice float down over the warm cabin windows. Although he swore that he only fell asleep with you around noon– it's now four the cold seems to seep in through the ice crusted windows.

"Ivar come back to bed baby, it's so cold I can feel it in my bones." You mumble in the doorway to his father's master bedroom. Probably looking luscious in one of his lazy t-shirts for days in which he wanted nothing more but to be lazy and flick on his computer. He doesn't move from the frosty windows.

"Don't have bones. So no problem, right?" He stomps his crutch to reiterate his point. You give a small, huffy sigh and stroll over the wooden floors, coming behind him to rub his bare shoulders.

"We could go warm up another way." You tease in his ear, causing him to pull to the side, tipping his forehead against the glass.

"I can't help you there." He mumbles almost shyly so. It's your tip off. It's rare that Ivar denies you sex– rarer still that he rolls you off his shoulder. Your hands leave his shoulders to come around the side of him, taking in the way his eyes blow wide. You saw that same look the first time you asked him to join you on a cruise to Italy.

"Are you..." You start.

"Don't say it." He mumbles, turning past you to pace in front of the window.

"You're afraid of snow!" You say as if it should be adorable that the snow was compacting the door he tried to pry earlier. He walks back in that direction– glaring at the door before pressing on into the kitchen where the warm cast iron stove residual heat. He reaches down for another chunk of wood to breathe life back into it.

"I'm not afraid of the snow." He looks back to you, jabbing in a chunk of wood once he rekindles the flame. You shuffle in the pantry while he speaks. "I'm afraid of being trapped and being unable to change it. Especially when I have to protect you."

You look at him with pause. Then after a few seconds your bare toes carry closer, kissing the bridge of his broad nose so that he huffs out of his nose at you to gain your attention. Your hands come around his neck, hanging off him like you know he hates when he's stressed out. You could say the snowstorm would pass or something like an "I love you" to have him hot in the cheeks. Instead though, you wiggle your hips in a small little dance.

"Well if we're gonna die anyway." You pull one arm back, revealing a block of dark chocolate in your hands. You wiggle it with an obnoxiously wide smile. He stares at it dumbly– right, he promised to make hot chocolate to you before his heart fell into his stomach in soul sucking disarray. "We could have some hot chocolate!"

"Extra marshmallows?" He asks, his voice a low whisper.

"Extra marshmallows."