#who is doing everything they can to avoid jasmine while also catching a glimpse of her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 3 years

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this is a continuation of the other one

Y/N stares at him for a long moment, arms crossed and poking her tongue into her cheek. “Why do I feel like I'm Ariel and you’re the sea witch trying to get me to sing into a shell?”

Harry blinks once. “Sorry, what?”

“Oh, right, that was—that was ‘89, wasn’t it?” Y/N bites back a laugh at the scowl that rolls over Harry’s expression. “After your time, I suppose.”

But Y/N isn’t laughing when she has to spend the next two weeks braless. And although she spends the first day being petty under Harry’s keen eye, by the third day, she’s turned the predicament around in her favor.

“Hey, Harry.” She says one night, stirring her pot of pasta on the stove as she sips her eleven dollar wine. “I have a question about our arrangement.”

Harry, who has been leaning over the counter to soak in the aromas of the food that he longs to taste (and also to get a look at Y/N’s cleavage in the v-neck t-shirt she’s wearing), cocks his head to the side and clicks his tongue. “If you're trying to reduce your sentence, don’t even try it.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Y/N murmurs, trailing her lip around the rim of her wine glass as she leans against the counter. “I was just wondering if it has to be only braless with a shirt on top, or if I could wear just a bra or bralette.”

Harry blinks once, his mouth falling open in surprise. “I—what?”

“Like, I have this little cotton Calvin Klein bralette, and it’s super comfy, and still gives me some support, but my cleavage and such is still decently on display.” Y/N clarifies with a smug grin, setting down her glass against the fake marble counter as she stretches to reach the spice cabinet. “I think that could fulfill our agreement, no? You know what bralette I’m talking about, right? You’ve probably seen it when you’ve been snooping around.”

Harry looks at her carefully, trying to catch the trick behind her all-too generous offer. He replies in a measured tone, leaning against the fridge as his eyes glue to the way her chest heaves as she teeters forwards on her tiptoes to grab a condiment. “I know the one, yes. Peachy pink, right? With a thick band and slightly ruffled fabric at the center?”

“That’s the one, yup.” Y/N pops the last letter of the word, wiggling her fingers to try and grab the oregano from the highest shelf. “It’s a nice number, I think, and going around braless for so long does my back in sometimes.”

Harry pushes off the barrier he’s using as support, drifting towards Y/N as she stands before her cupboards, one hand propped against the counter to boost herself up as the other fishes for the small container a few inches from the tips of her fingers. He stops right beside her, looking down at her with that same calculating gaze he had across the room. He’s still trying to sus out her angle, but little does he know that what she’s trying to implement is going to work out for both of them.

She’s grown quite fond of the extra attention he’s been giving her, and for some odd reason, she feels a deep sense of pleasure every time she catches him staring at her chest. Maybe it’s the way his eyes glint longingly as he ogles, or the way he’ll chew into his cheek or along his bottom lip or into the side of his finger as he follows the outline of her cleavage, or maybe it’s that when she catches him gawking, he’ll hold intense eye contact with her for a second before casting his gaze away to some other unimportant object.

Maybe it was that one time yesterday where she’d managed to pull an actual reaction out of him. They had been watching a rerun of a Scooby Doo movie, and she could feel his ghastly eyes pinned to her bust, probably because she had lied down on her stomach across her sectional sofa as he had sat on the floor in front of it, so when he turned his head, her chest had been less than a foot away. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had purposefully flushed it against the couch cushion below to make it seem extra plump and appealing, which would have knocked the air from Harry’s lungs if he still had them.

He’d released a soft whimper so broken and needy, Y/N had to fight off a conceited grin to avoid letting him know she was doing this to him with actual intention. She’d pretended not to hear it, but she had allowed herself to indulge the flare of satisfaction that rose from watching him shift his sitting position a bit, as if something were growing heavy between his thighs. His actions had vaguely made her wonder if ghosts could even feel arousal, and if they could, she hoped he was. It was the perfect revenge, because she at least knows that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not with anyone else, at least.

Y/N watches as Harry reaches an arm up, easily reaching the bottle she’s attempting to retrieve. He swipes his hand across the container, the motion managing to knock it off the shelf and into her awaiting palm. She’s learned that in order to touch objects, he has to put in quite a bit of energy and concentration to succeed in breaking through the dimensional barrier that separates the living from the dead. Garnering the slightest contact can sometimes drain him a great deal, so when he does make it his mission to touch something, he does it with as little impact as possible to save his energy for later, in case he wants to grab something for an extended period of time, or grasp a heavier weight that would require more exertion.

“Thanks.” She smiles up at him innocently, blinking her lashes with a slightly sultry air as she closes the cupboard slowly.

Harry swallows heavily, glimpsing down at where her chest is still heaving from when she’d made a grand effort to collect the ingredient she needed. He hates how his little cheeky plan had recently become the bane of his undead existence, given that Y/N had recently begun using it to her advantage. But he can’t complain, because he’s getting exactly what he asked for. He just wishes he could get more.

His voice comes out low and strained as his eyes coast back up to meet her own, which are dancing with smug amusement. “You’re welcome.”

“So what do you say?” Y/N asks, uncapping the spice and sprinkling a liberal amount into her sauce. “Think we could tweak our deal?”

Harry pulls himself back onto the counter, tapping his fingers against the surface without making a sound. “I suppose.” He replies after a moment, eyes flickering to Y/N’s chest once more as she leans down to taste the sauce. “The bralette should be fine, as long as it’s not too padded.” He shoots her a cheeky grin. “I like a bit of nipple, you know that.”

“You’re gross.” Y/N scoffs, shaking her head as she sets down the wooden spoon on the stove. “I'm gonna go change, then. Watch this for me, will you?”

And Harry does rather diligently, inhaling the flavorful aromas rising from the stove. He wishes, for the billionth time in his thirty odd years of death, that he could taste food. He knows he doesn’t need it, but even just having its essence pass over his tongue would be enough for him. He misses pasta, he thinks, staring longingly at the noodles boiling away on the stove. And pizza, and fish, and steak, cooked perfectly with a delicious side of mashed potatoes and gravy, just pink enough in the middle that it’s still tender—

“You didn’t burn down the kitchen. Good job!” Y/N’s voice calls from behind, and the ghost turns around with a retort on his lips that quickly falls away once he sees her.

She’s put on the bralette just as she said she would, and it’s everything he’s ever dreamed of. The cotton is thin enough that he can see the clear outline of what he wants through the article, and the halter neckline lands low enough that he can see every dip and curve of her breasts. A band of her stomach is exposed beneath the labeled elastic lining the bottom of the fabric, and the soft skin seems to call to Harry, making him desperate to touch it. Y/N’s decided to swap her sweatpants as well, it seems, as she’s now dressed in a loose pair of heather grey shorts that sit above her belly button and barely cover the curve of her ass. The loose legs flutter up with her every movement, and if she were about to bend over just a smidge, he could—

“How’s this?” The girl asks, flicking her loose hair over her shoulder with a simper. “Does it meet the requirements?”

Harry clears his throat, his words coming out as a pained groan. “God, you’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

Y/N sputters into a round of airy laughter, coming to stand before him with her hands perched on her hips. Her tone is innocent, but her true intentions are written clear across her face, obvious in the way her lips twitch with evil delight. “How so? I’m abiding to our terms!”

“You’re giving me the world’s worst case of blue-balls, is what you’re doing.” Harry bites back, his sharp jaw clenching and full lips pressing into a bothered grimace. “And you’re doing it on fucking purpose.”

“You made your casket, now lie in it.” Y/N states brightly, shrugging her brows with finality.

“Harsh.” Harry mumbles, but he can’t fight off the amused grin that tweaks his dimples into place.

Harry slips off the counter again onto his feet, not being able to stay still. There’s a peculiar buzzing sensation coursing through each of his ghostly limbs, and anytime he stays put, it intensifies to the point where he feels like he’s going to explode into a shower of static.

He saunters up behind Y/N, looking over her shoulder as she regains her previous activity of mixing the contents in the pot while they simmer their way to completion. Despite not being able to touch her, he can still smell her just fine, and her homey scent of chamomile and jasmine are ever welcomed. She just smells so much like a girl, for a lack of a better explanation, and Harry hasn’t been this close to one his own age since before he passed. It’s driving him to the brink.

“I’d give you a taste if I could.” Y/N's soft, teasing voice echoes against his ears as she cranes her neck to look at him. “It’s a family recipe.”

“Yeah...” Harry locks eyes with her for a moment, and his hand instinctively reaches down to grasp at her waist. Instead of being met with the warm sturdiness of what he knows would be her silky skin, he’s met with the typical icy fizzing sensation that constantly haunts him whenever he tries to make contact with a living being. His digits pass right through her hip, though she barely seems to notice, the only palpable indication of his attempt being a cold breeze wafting across her flesh.

He knows it’s something that is extremely easy to brush off, usually as a simple draft from the air conditioning, given the similarities between the two experiences. And that’s exactly what she appears to do as she gives a light, dismissive shiver, not paying it any mind.

The ghost tries his best to keep his disappointment from registering in his mood, and his tone instead fills with an unreadable emptiness that only he can truly interpret. Below it lies a double meaning, and it has to do with way more than just the general desire to be able to experience the taste of good again; it holds a certain longing that pertains to a deeper type of hunger, but again, only he can truly decipher it. “Yeah, I can only dream of it.”

#drabble

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

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To Call Forth Love (Modern!Ivar x OC) Chapter 1

So I recently joined the Vikings fandom (better late than never, right?) and could not get this one-shot out of my head. This is my first time writing for Vikings and writing Ivar. Let me know what you think.

Also a huge shout-out to @saritanotserena for helping me with the moodboard. You are the best, babe!

Words: 4300

Warnings: mild swearing, mild sexual content, mild angst?

Series Masterlist

"I'm going to get something to drink!" Kari yelled into the ear of her friend, Alana, hoping she could hear it over the deafening music blasting from the nearby speakers.

Alana nodded, ignoring the brunette in lieu of the man who had his hands on her hips and cock grinding against her ass.

Without waiting further, Kari squeezed her way through the crowd on the club's dance floor and towards where their table was. For the umpteenth time, she tried to tug down the short, skin-tight black dress over her thighs, unsuccessful in covering the vast amount of skin showing. Even if Alana told her it looked fine and to stop worrying, it still made her personally self-conscious. Right now, she would much rather be at her shared townhouse eating popcorn and binge watching a show or reading one of her new books, comfortable in yoga pants and a soft sweatshirt with preferably no bra. Definitely no bra if she had a choice. But no, she had used up all the valid excuses she could conjure and now had to pay the devil his dues. Or in this case, go out clubbing with her friends.

Quickly, she made her way to the table and plopped down in a chair, reaching for the bottled water she was smart enough to bring this time. She ignored the couple sticking their tongues down each other's throat on the other side of the table as she took a sip of the water. Yes, she had told Alana she needed a drink but mostly she just wanted a break. She never wore heels unless for special occasions and with all the dancing she had been forced to endure amongst the mass of sweaty bodies, her feet and ankles were killing her.

She peeked at her phone, seeing the late hour and wondering if she could use it as an excuse to leave. She knew her friends planned to stay longer, or leave soon with company for the night. Perhaps no one would notice if she snuck away, feigning exhaustion or some illness.

As if sensing her thoughts, a voice called out to her from the other side of the table. "Don't even think about it."

Kari looked up, meeting the narrowed, brown eyes of her friend across the table from her. "Rach…."

"No, don't you, 'Rach' me." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Kari. "I see you, and you are trying to figure out how to leave. It's not happening. You know the deal."

"Please? It's getting late and there is no one here…"

"Bullshit. Quite trying to make excuses. You agreed to the deal and you can't leave until you fulfill your side of the bargain and you bet your ass I'm watching." She leaned back against her boyfriend, brushing a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

Kari grumbled under her breath. "Doubt it. You've been trying to eat each other's faces the whole time."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"What is the deal she agreed to?" Seth asked smugly, arms wrapped around Rachel's waist and laying soft kisses over her exposed shoulders and neck.

"Before Kari leaves tonight, she has to make-out with someone...and not just a quick peck either. Full. On. Snogging." Rachel answered with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a crooked smile.

Kari dropped her face in her hands, groaning. She knew there was a snowball's chance in hell that Rachel would have forgotten about what Kari reluctantly agreed to but still…. she had hoped.

Rachel continued speaking to Seth but Kari could feel those brown eyes on her. "She hasn't kissed anyone since her ex; so Alana, Jasmine and I decided that we needed to take matters into our own hands."

"Her ex... shit, wasn't that like two years ago?"

"Yep." Rachel popped the 'p' loudly. "Now, Kari, you get back on that dance floor and find someone or I will pick them out for you."

Almost giving herself whiplash with how quickly she raised her head back up, Kari stared horrified at her friend.

"You know I would."

"Shit…." Kari mumbled, fiddling with one of the diamond studs in her ear. If there was one ultimate truth in the world, it was that Kari did NOT want any of her friends picking out someone for her to make-out with. The thought alone made her shudder. To say they had different tastes was an understatement. Her friends seemed to prefer the big, Viking-looking, blonds that seemed to enjoy going outside and chopping down trees…. for fun. Her preference was for, well not that. She downed the rest of her water and stood up, tugging down her short dress once again. "I'm going to the bathroom."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you better get back on the floor once you're done. We can be here all night if we need too."

Kari scurried away without a response. She did not actually have to use the bathroom but used the excuse to check her makeup and hair...and hide…. possibly for the rest of the night. Hoping to kill even more time, she took the long way to the bathroom, pointedly looking at the floor to avoid encouraging anyone to approach her.

She stumbled past the short set of stairs leading up to the VIP section, silently cursing her heels. All she wanted to do was kick them off. It was becoming a miracle she had not face-planted yet. Making a mental note to never let Alana choose her attire again, she pressed on, moving down one of the half walls along the raised VIP section.

As if fate sensed her thinking about her loathed heels, it decided to do something about it.

Someone suddenly shoved into her, pushing past her on their way towards somewhere. All the brunette managed to catch a glimpse of was a long, blonde braid and a backless dress. The force was enough to lose her balance on the stupid heels and slam into the wall next to her, her momentum and gravity then yanked her towards the ground. Just as she thought she would at least fall to her knees or kiss the dirty floor, a strong hand grabbed her bare, upper arm, keeping her upright.

She staggered drunkenly for a moment, her hands automatically reaching out to grip the shirt of the person who magically appeared in front of her, and really saving her from utter humiliation. No exaggerations. At all. Utter. Humiliation.

Once her mind refocused on no longer falling to her demise, the first thing she noticed was that whoever was holding her was definitely a man. Not just because the person was taller than her, but the sheer size of the pecks underneath her fisted hands in his shirt and the broad shoulders were a dead giveaway. Even one handed, this person was holding her upright with ease. The second thing she noticed was his scent. Yes, she knew that thought was beyond creepy but her body decided to take notice. Not her fault. Obviously. She just got to enjoy the repercussions. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it should be illegal to wear out in public. It conjured images of a fire in a hearth, bourbon, hot sex under furs and debauchery.

In the next moment, she lifted her gaze, wanting - no, needing to know who this man was. To thank him for saving her. Of course. That was it. Yep. Not to sear his image into her brain to fantasize about later. Not at all.

As her eyes met his, any words of thanks died on her tongue. For whatever working brain cells she had left silenced under his gaze. Staring down at her was the most vivid, gorgeous and terrifying blue pair of eyes that both soothed and scorched under their allure.

He never spoke a word, just stared at her. His hand held onto her upper arm as if worried she was suddenly going to drop.

Later, she would blame it on the combination of his touch, that intense look in his gaze and his cologne that made her act irrationally. So, before her mind could convince her how stupid she was, how reckless this was, how outside of her normal behavior she was acting…

...she rose up slightly on her toes and kissed him.

His lips were surprisingly soft against hers but unmoving. Slowly she retracted, hurt by his inaction but honestly not surprised. It was probably for the best. This idea was a failure from the start. She did not even know the guy, he just saved her from falling. She should have said 'thank you' and walked away…. not…. not kissed him! Opening her eyes to meet his now painfully hardened gaze, it only confirmed her stupidity. Before she could apologize and retreat to hide away from the world for at least the next century, he spoke.

"Are you drunk?"

His abrupt, harsh question startled her. Her answer tumbled out of her mouth before her mind could filter the proper response.

"What?...no, I've had like two drinks but that's it...wait. Oh gods! Was my kiss that bad? Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll just...sorry." She tried to pull away from him, face flushed from embarrassment. What had she been thinking? This was why she never just made-out with random guys. Whatever self-esteem she had evaporated beneath his piercing gaze. Her ex had called her frigid but this….

His hand tightened ever so slightly on her arm, not enough to hurt but to certainly impede her desire to run away. His eyes bored into hers as if trying to read all the secrets of her soul. It was now, caught in this trap of his gaze, that she noticed the predatory glint in his eyes. She wondered if this was what a rabbit felt like while staring down a wolf, too frightened to move away. Well in her case, she was probably more of a hamster than rabbit. At least rabbits were fast and could try to hide. A hamster had no ability to outrun or outsmart a wolf. And everything about him screamed predator.

"Come." He commanded, releasing her arm and took a step to the side.

"Wha...what?"

He cocked his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. "Come. I am not through with you."

A sharp shiver ran down her spine at the severe scrutiny sent her way but for some reason found herself agreeing. "Ohhh….um, ok." Her friends had wanted her to make-out with someone right?

She followed him, carefully ogling him from behind. The nice button-down he wore only accentuated the broadness of his chest and shoulders, plus with the sleeves rolled up and those toned forearms on show, he could have easily been just walking out of a photoshoot for some fashion magazine. Even the dark wash jeans and white Adidas sneakers could not deter from his overall striking appearance. His dark hair was long on top and shaved on the sides, something she had never seen before but it gave him a serious look instead of it being comical.

Surprise coursed through her when he started up the few steps leading to the VIP section. Somewhere she had never been nor expected to go. Only people with money or connections were allowed to be in there. She wondered which one of the two he was. It was also now as she followed him that she happened to notice the slight limp in his gait which drew her attention to the braces around his legs. Her mind wandered with questions as to why he needed braces. Had he been in an accident recently? Or surgery? Should he even be up walking?

Once they ascended the few steps, passing the bouncer at the top of the stairs who only gave her a passing glance before returning his eyes to the rest of the club, she continued to trail him to a short 'L' shaped couch with a low table in front of it. There were short half walls around all of the arrangements giving the illusion of privacy for those seated on a couch. Glancing around quickly, she could hear laughter and see some heads over the partitions but no one seemed to have paid any attention to her and the stranger she followed.

The man dropped down unceremoniously onto the black leather couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. Immediately, his intimidating gaze turned on her and she could not help but thickly swallow at the pure wicked look that sent shivers down her spine. Without a word, he held his hand out, beckoning her closer.

For the rest of her life, she would always question why she moved closer, why she took his hand, why she let him slowly guide her to straddling his lap.

All she knew was in the moment….it felt right.

"Good girl." He breathed out; rough, calloused hands held her hips steady over him. His fingers skimmed the hemline of her dress, now indecently high, almost no longer even covering her ass.

Her rational side screamed at her, reminding her she never did this, that she did not know this man. That if her family ever found out, gods forbid, they would probably disown her and not care if it left her starving in the streets due to her wanton behavior. Though their opinions no longer truly mattered in her life.

But her emotional side softly whispered that for once, to just give in, to let someone else be in control, to revel in the pleasure his touch brought forth. To throw caution and fidelity to the wind and enjoy life for once before she locked away her heart again.

Tipping her head forward, she pressed her lips to his once again. Where he had been unresponsive to her prior kiss, this time his lips slammed against hers, dominating and controlling. It sucked the very air from her lungs. Right now though, he could happily own all the oxygen she ever needed if he continued to kiss her like this. His hands slid to grab her ass, coaxing her even closer and drawing a needy moan from her. As her mouth opened, his tongue slipped in to explore as if he owned it. He kissed as if he was making love to her mouth and giving her a hint of what he would be like in bed.

Eventually she yanked her mouth from his, chest heaving and desperate for air. His head dropped to her chest and she gasped when she felt his tongue traced the line of cleavage her dress exposed.

"Fuck, you taste amazing." He whispered, practically branding the words into her skin as his lips tasted her. Before she could move or question him, his tongue was back on her exposed skin. This time it slid up from the hint of the valley between her breasts up her chest and neck to end with him sucking just below her earlobe. A whine, or was it a purr, was all her brain could handle, so overwhelmed with sensations she had never experienced before. Sure she had been kissed before but it had never felt like this. It all felt so…. tame compared to what this man elicited out of her. As if her prior understanding of fire was only looking at a lit match; while now she could only stare, completely absorbed by the raging bonfire that threatened to touch the sky with its unending flames.

Her hands shifted from grasping his shoulders to keep her upright under his onslaught to gripping his face and forcing his lips back to hers. A heat continued to build in her belly, an inferno that she wanted to dive into without fear or care of being burned. Her hips ground against him, feeling his hardened length between her legs only spurred her on.

"Fuck, kitten, keep going. Ride my cock." He growled into her mouth.

Before she realized it, the waves of pleasure and heat she had been riding exploded. She ripped her mouth away from his, head thrown back in a silent scream. She could feel his mouth move back to her exposed skin, kissing and sucking as he continued to grind under her. Her mind felt shattered into a million pieces but instead of frightening her, she felt pure bliss. Eventually she came back down from her high, her mind whirling with what just happened.

"What…." She licked her lips, wondering why her mouth was suddenly so dry. "What, um, was that?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked smugly as he placed open mouth kisses along her chest and neck, never stopping his ministrations.

"Um, that feeling… I just...wow…."

He stopped to tilt his head slightly and meet her gaze. "Have you never had an orgasm before?"

Her eyes widened as realization swarmed her. Hastily, she tried to scramble off his lap but one of his hands grabbed the back of her neck, while the other still gripped her hip, forcing her to remain on his lap. His eyes scoured her, pupils blown wide but it was the dark, heated look in them that caused a whimper to slip from her lips.

"You never have…" he murmured, in something between surprise and a dangerous, boyish glee. Mumbling something in a foreign language, his wicked gaze never released her from looking away. One of his fingers returned to tracing her cleavage, teasing her occasionally as it dipped between her breasts only to continue its path. She could feel the heat slowly building in her core again, but if it was due to his touch or the devious smirk he wore, she was unsure. Never more had she felt like prey being toyed with by a hungry predator.

"Are you a virgin, my pretty kitten? Mmm?" He asked in such a filthy voice, it should never be allowed outside of a bedroom.

She whined, "please…"

Agonizingly slow, he leaned closer to her once again, his mouth just hovering over hers with a mischievous smirk that proved he knew what he was doing to her.

"Kari!"

She jerked at the unexpected calling of her name. Turning to look over her shoulder, she could see Rachel and Alana both standing next to the bouncer at the top of the steps into the VIP section. Rachel was staring her down while Alana's blue eyes bounced back and forth between Kari and the man under her.

"It's time to go." Rachel yelled at her over the loud music, still easily heard this far away.

Kari turned back to...to him. "I need to leave."

He nuzzled the crook of her neck, brushing her hair out of the way, before whispering into her ear. His hands never relinquished their hold on her. "Answer my question first."

"I... I need to go. I'm sorry. Please. I just…"

His hand trailed around her neck so he could grip under her jaw, forcing her face back up to meet his. His vivid blue eyes covetous in their intensity. "Answer. Me." His breath ghosted over her lips.

"Yes." The single word came out in a just barely heard whisper.

A hesitation, a pause, as if both were frozen in the moment due to her confession. Then his mouth slanted over hers in a greedy kiss, as if claiming her through sheer willpower and his ardent touch. Unable to help herself, she moaned into the kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt as if clinging for her life.

"Stay." He whispered against her lips.

"I can't…"

"I'll bring you home. We aren't finished yet." As if to emphasize his point, he rolled his hips under her, his hardened length pressing against her wet core.

"Please, I'm sorry. I want to stay, I promise. I've never…. I…. I just need to go. I'm sorry."

Deliberately slow, his grip on her loosened. First the hand on her neck, his thumb caressed her pulse point before dropping next to him on the couch. The hand on her hip glided up her body leaving a trail of fire in its wake, up to her arm and down it to her hand still clutching his shirt. Gently, almost reverently, he entwined their fingers. His blue eyes stared into hers as he helped guide her off his lap to stand before him. The lust was still evident in his gaze but now she noticed something underneath, something hidden by the ferocity. Yet she could not name it. Though it made her want to pull his head to her chest and just hold him, let whatever the unnamed emotion there bleed from him and comfort him.

"KARI!"

She jolted at the frantic call of her name, pulled away from gazing into his eyes.

"Can I see you again?" He quietly asked, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

"I hope so." She smiled gently then stepped away, before she did something stupid like give the man her number. That would be too forward for her. Turning her back to the man, she walked towards her friends.

Once she reached them, Alana slipped her arm through hers and they started to follow Rachel down to the main floor. At the last second the brunette looked over her shoulder to glimpse him one more time. His elbows were on his knees, body leaned forward and eyes glued to her as if trying to commit everything about her to memory.

For the briefest of seconds when their eyes connected, his gorgeous blue meeting her blue-green, she considered returning to him. To see what happened next so she never would have to wonder. To try and label what lay behind the dangerous glint in his eyes that she glimpsed.

Then her steps brought her to the main floor and away from his piercing gaze. She was too much of a coward to give in and taste the forbidden fruit he so freely offered. Even if a part of her wanted too. Her family rules seared into her brain since birth would never allow her too.

Quickly, the three women headed towards the exit. Just before they reached it, Rachel directed them to a semi-secluded alcove.

"What the hell was that?" The angry blonde demanded, turning on Kari with a vengeance.

"What?"

"No, don't you fucking 'what' me! We told you to make-out with someone, not plan on getting fucking murdered!"

Kari almost stumbled back at the venom in Rachel's voice. Her eyes bounced back and forth between her friends, trying to understand what she obviously was missing. "What are you talking about? Murdered? He was nice…. I thought."

"Nice? Oh, he was nice?" Rachel stared at her for a long moment in shock. With a huff, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she harshly asked her next question. "Do you have any idea who that was?"

"Um, no... we...he didn't say his name."

"Gods, you are so stupid sometimes."

Alana cut in, before Rachel could continue to berate. Her doll-like face ranging in expressions from concern to pity and fear. "Kari," she spoke as if explaining a simple matter to a child, her blue eyes pleading and intent on her face, "that was Ivar."

"Huh?" Kari stated, dumbly, mind not fully processing what that meant.

"You know…. Ivar Lothbrok…." Alana gave a pained smile, tugging on one of her large hoop earrings under her blonde, pixie cut,"....one of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok."

The sudden knowledge felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, freezing any semblance of warmth she may still have carried from their interaction. "What? I didn't…. are you sure?"

"Well the braces on his crippled legs should have been a damn giveaway." Rachel practically snarled.

Alana spoke back up, laying her hand on Kari's shoulder. "I know you haven't been here long but the Lothbroks have a…. reputation…. especially Ivar, for being, well, um, brutal. We just want you to be safe." She sighed and peeked over at Rachel. "Let's get out of here. Everyone else is waiting outside."

"Ok." Was all Kari could say as her mind whirled with this new information. She followed behind them like a lost puppy, too absorbed in her thoughts to pay attention to where they were going. She could faintly hear Rachel harshly muttering something under her breath as they continued.

She knew who the Lothbroks were but kept that information to herself. Honestly, she probably knew more about that family than her friends did. She had listened to her uncle curse them enough times she had grown to associate their surname with a one-way ticket to the gates of Hell. If mortal enemies were a thing, her family and the Lothbroks would be that.

Her thoughts though stayed focused on a pair of brilliant, piercing blue eyes, soft, dark hair and a voice that called something out in her. There certainly was an aura of danger that hung over him like a shadow of doom plus with the predatory, wicked glint in his eyes, Kari could understand what they meant by dangerous. It was the other look her mind continued to replay over and over. Now away from him, she could pinpoint what it was. Vulnerability. When he asked her to stay- in anyone else she might have mistaken it for begging- that confidence he wore as a mask slid away just for a moment and allowed her to peek underneath. No wonder she wanted to crawl into his lap and hold him close. A part of her yearned to turn around and rush back to him to do that very thing. But her feet kept moving, following her friends.

She was not stupid, naïve maybe but not stupid. They wanted her to stay away from him. She could read between the lines well enough. Though if she encountered him again, she was unsure if she would be able to stay away…. or would want too.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #modern ivar #ivar x ofc #ivars heathen army #ivar romance #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x oc #ivar the boneless #to call forth love #mzwrites

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beautyandthewarcanons · 3 years

Text

Echo's Beacon: Part Fourteen

[You can read part thirteen here! All BATW & DTTR characters belong to @poisonappletales ! ❤]

I rose, turning around to head back when I stopped short. I exhaled, placing a hand on my chest. "Jeez... Chase, you scared the crap out of me." I spoke. His head was bowed, staring at the ground. "Where did you get this outfit from? Did you find another wardrobe?" I asked, noticing the tattered overalls and straw hat. Rather than reply, he extended his arm a bit, stabbing the handle end of a pitchfork into the ground. I blinked. Why did that look so familiar-

"Get away from her."

I gasped, jolting back as an eye filled with red hot anger, upon a face twisted with scars, bore into me. Without warning, the crazed man gripped the pitchfork with both hands, viciously trying to stab me with it. I collapsed to the ground to evade it, screaming frightfully as I sprung to my feet. I frantically stumbled around him, erratically running down the hill. After a few precious seconds, I whipped my head over my shoulder to see he wasn't behind me. However, I didn't slow down, and thank God I didn't.

Not a moment later, I felt a sharp sting in the back of my leg, falling forward. I flipped on my back to see the his murderous eye staring at me, jabbing his pitchfork at me. He was as fast as lightning, and I barely evaded him as I crawled backwards. I finally managed to get to my feet again, my voice cracking as I cried. I begged him to stop to no avail, and I desperately looked for any means of sanctuary to run to. The barn was just ahead, far closer than the house. I made a run for it, nearly losing my balance as I whipped around. He was mere feet from barging inside when I slammed and locked the doors, the pitchfork piercing the wood just inches from my face.

My feet were planted for several tense moments before the metal points were yanked out, and I trembled as my mind tried to comprehend what just happened. I moved back, trembling as I went over to the back end of the barn, shutting the door and barring it. Locking myself in, I hugged myself, my eyes everywhere as I backed up along the empty horse stables. I eventually stopped, trying to catch my breath. My heart was racing, and I leaned against one of the horse stables to recuperate.

The sound of a soft thud behind me caught my attention then.

I whirled around, and I witnessed the man emerging out of the old coat hanging on the wall by the furthest horse stable. Without even making eye contact, he held the pitchfork parallel to the ground, swiftly pacing toward me. I screamed, running to the front entrance of the barn. In my frantic state, I nearly forgot to unlock the doors before pushing them open. Had I taken a moment longer, I would have been impaled as I burst though the doors.

The moment I ran back outside, I collided into him. I failed my arms, screaming and crying.

"Woah! Kara, what is it, what's the matter?!"

I gasped, my vision focusing as my eyes darted all around in terror. "Who- where- where did he-"

"Hey, it's me, it's just me-" Chase gripped my shoulders, turning me around to face him. Realization began to settle in, and my brows twisted as I clung to him. "Kara, what happened?!" He exclaimed. "What were you doing in there?" He motioned to the barn.

"H- He tried to- he tried to kill me, he tried to-"

"What?! Who is it? Kara, who is it?!" When I couldn't answer him, still in shock, he let go of me, storming toward the barn. "Hey! Get out here and fight me!" He shouted.

Horror gripped me. "Ch- Chase, no- Chase please come back!" My voice was hoarse, sobbing as he disappeared inside. I heard some thudding from within, and I sucked in a breath as I stumbled back to the wooden doors. "Chase!" I cried his name. "Chase please get out of there-"

The doors flung open as hands shot forward to grab me, forcing me backwards. He clenched his teeth as he shoved me to the ground. When I tried to escape him, he raised a hand into the air.

Seering pain followed as a rusty knife was plunged into my right forearm.

I shrieked in agony, shutting my eyes as I felt the savage man practically slice my arm open. I felt the horrible thing being yanked out after several agonizing moments, and then-

"Oh man, oh man!" Chase cried, knelt over me. He had the bloody knife in one hand, tossing it aside before he clutched the sides of his head. When I glanced over, all I could see was red pooling out of my arm, a puddle forming on the ground. Chase's voice became muffled at this point, and I was swiftly lifted into his arms. Everything became a blur, air whipping against my face as I was rushed back to the house.

---

"That's what he looked like." I said to those gathered as Ambrosia mended my arm. Chase was sitting beside me, appearing perturbed. "I ran into the barn, and he somehow appeared in there."

"How could he just 'appear' in there, lady Kara?" Jasmine asked.

"Don't you see? He has to be another ghost." I rationalized.

"What?! Not another one!" Viktor cried.

Arsenik was silent, not bothering to scold his nephew. He stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

"Chase." Barium spoke up then. "Were you able to catch a glimpse of him?"

The Trold shook his head. "He must have ran off after he hurt Kara. When I came back to her, I saw... it was sticking out of her arm..." His voice trailed off.

"You didn't see him when you were inside the barn?" I asked then.

"Huh?" Chase lifted his head to look at me. His eyes were still red from crying.

"After you ran inside... I was going to go in after you. That's when he burst through the front doors and attacked me with the knife."

Chase furrowed a brow. "No way. I checked all around in there. I kicked every stable door open. Also, you blocked the back way from the inside. He couldn't have been in there with me. I would have seen him." As he said this, Barium watched closely, taking note of our conversation. Wind listened intently. "He hurt you before you ran into me, didn't he?"

I shook my head. "He attacked me while you were still inside."

Chase shook his head in confusion. "But there's no-... how could've..."

"I've already sent Onyx out to check the perimeter. If anyone is lurking, wherever they are, he will find them." Barium reassured.

"But it doesn't make any sense!" Chase exclaimed.

"Good thing he was there. If someone was trying to kill her... he may have been the one to stop it." Night said, to everyone's surprise. "It's just interesting that they didn't run into one another."

"Miss Kara...?"

I snapped to attention at the sound of Arsenik's voice. "... Yes?"

"... When the older gentleman spoke to you a few days ago... did he not assure you that these spirits would bring no harm to you?" He asked. He gaze was still cast downward.

"Well, he... he said that many other people have stayed here, and nothing happened to them-"

"He told you that there was no need to fear these spirits. Is that correct?"

I hesitated for a moment. "Yeah... but clearly I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Arsenik shut his eyes for a few moments. "Please excuse me." His voice sounded strained, rising to swiftly leave the room. I thought I had been mistaken, but I could have sworn he placed a gloved hand over his mouth as he rounded the corner.

Just then, Onyx returned. "Your majesty..." Barium stood, giving the executioner his attention. "... I found no others on the grounds."

---

"Princess?"

Ambrosia didn't answer him at first, staring at the wall where the painting had hung. "What about it could have frightened her so...?"

"Hey, Earth to Ambrosia. You're weirding me out."

Ambrosia's shoulders tensed as she snapped to attention. "Ah, forgive me, sir X. I have many things on my mind at the present time."

The mattress shifted, and she felt a pair of muscular arms envelop her in an embrace. Ambrosia was surprised, to say the least. She glanced up at the man draped in a silouhette, uncharacteristic of a man who had the capability to bathe himself in light.

"If there is anything here that's trying to start something... you 'n' me'll make it out. We didn't rot in a prison and we're not gonna rot here."

"We cannot abandon the others."

"You're first priority, princess. No changing that."

"What am I to do with you, sir X?" Ambrosia breathed.

"There's plenty of things you could do with me." His lips poked into a grin. "There's no one else here." He leaned down to kiss her, but Ambrosia placed a gentle hand on his lips, preventing him from drawing any nearer to her face. He took her hand in his, moving it away. "Come on... for old time's sake. We could reenact how we met."

Ambrosia couldn't help but feel lighthearted then, chuckling. "I believe I was on top of you, sir X."

The man shrugged, flopping down on his back next to her. "Do what you've got to do, babe."

Ambrosia turned on her knees, bending over him so her hair cascaded down to frame her face. X's grin widened as she drew ever closer, mere inches from his face-

And planted a kiss on his forehead.

"A goodnight kiss for you. Now, off to your own bed." She smiled coyly, lightly patting his head.

"Wha- come on, really? That is NOT how you kissed me the first time."

"Off you go, now." Ambrosia waved her hands, her cheeks rosy as she giggled.

"Man... you're killing me, woman." X groaned, getting to his feet to shuffle over to my bed. He flopped onto his stomach, huffing out a sigh. He'd get her yet, he thought to himself as Ambrosia settled in to sleep.

I adjusted my pillow, unfolding my blanket as I prepared for sleep. It was a bit difficult with bandages on my right arm, wrapped around part of my hand to secure it. Ambrosia had said it would take a few treatments to completely heal it.

I heard a floor board creak, quickly looking behind me. I relaxed when my eyes rested on a familiar feathered cloak.

"Good evening, miss Kara. Forgive me... I was hoping to speak to you. If the hour is too late... I can approach you tomorrow instead."

I paused for a moment. "No... I can talk now."

"Very well." Arsenik stepped into the light, allowing me to see him clearer. He was still avoiding my gaze. "Did you... need assistance with anything?"

"No, thank you... I'm... I'm all set here." I replied.

"Miss Kara, forgive me if this is an unusual request... but I was hoping I could stay here the night, instead."

"Wait, huh?" I tilted my head.

"I trust my nephew to treat you decently... it would put my mind at ease if he were nearby should any malicious entities attempt to cause you harm."

"What do you-... oh, no... no, I'm fine out here. I... I really do suck at following your advice, I know." I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. I sat down, looking away as I smoothed out my blanket to keep my hands occupied. As I did, Arsenik's eyes wandered to the bandages.

"Miss Kara." I stopped. His voice had trembled a bit then. "I- I don't wish to imply that I don't believe your testimony of today's events." I slowly looked up at him. "Y- You see, I... forgive me. My- mind isn't quite right at the moment." He took in a deep breath. "I... realize I was quite harsh with you this morning."

My expression softened. "Arsenik- no, you-... don't feel bad about that. You were right, I... I messed up. You were trying to help me, and I didn't listen to anything you said." I shook my head. "I'm always doing that. Putting myself in a position to be hurt. But the worst part was letting Ambrosia down... and-... and disappointing you." My own voice began to shake then.

I felt the couch shift as Arsenik took a seat beside me. He took my injured arm into his hands, holding it tenderly. "Miss Kara... when you went out to the grounds, today... " A pause. I stared at Arsenik for a moment. It was difficult to read his expression; but the crease in his brow, subtle as it was, made him appear distressed. "I don't know which thought is more devastating; my words compelling you to act in self-loathing... or compelling you to flee into the very arms of peril."

Arsenik turned his head in surprise when he felt the side of my head lean against his upper arm. He sat tall and straight, his posture unwavering. "You had nothing to do with this."

"If I had not said what I did... you would have not wandered so far. You would not have-"

"No one is responsible for this." I cut him off. He finally willed himself to look at me. A few moments of silence dripped away.

"I hope you never doubt my fondness for you." My brows raised a bit at this. "You know... I've admired miss Ambrosia for... quite some time. To think that I... was the cause of something dreadful to befall a dear friend... I am wracked with guilt on both your accounts."

A trickle of numbness drew my arm away from his hands. "I know Ambrosia. She's not mad at you."

Arsenik smiled for the first time in a while. "I appreciate that. It's no surprise she would associate so closely with you." I stared down at my hands. "But miss Kara... I truly do offer my apologies for how I spoke to you this morning."

"It's okay." I replied. "It's water under the bridge."

"You're absolutely sure you'll be alright here for the night?" Arsenik questioned.

"I'll be fine." I nodded. "It's getting late. You should get some rest."

"I should say the same for you." Arsenik lightly patted my shoulder before rising. "Sleep well, miss Kara."

"Goodnight, Arsenik." I shifted on my seat as I watched him turn, walking back into the shadows. I finally resolved to lie on my side, curling up in a ball under my blanket. I sighed shakily, shutting my eyes as exhaustion took hold of me.

In my fatigue, I failed to notice that behind the couch, just one room over, a pair of glowing eyes emerged from under the dining room table. They moved slowly, a low choking sound accompanying them as they bore into the back of the couch. A hand extended from under the table, the tips of its fingers becoming exposed to the moonlight. Suddenly, a clawed hand reached up from right behind the couch, gripping the back of it as a pair of burning yellow eyes emerged-

To be continued...

#beautyandthewar #poisonappletales #beauty and the war x playing pieces #beauty and the war #donttakethisrisk #ambrosia #dont take this risk #arsenik #love #horror #drama #suspense #paranormal #fanficton

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sofreakinmanyfandoms · 6 years

Text

Smoke, Musk, and Jasmine - Omega!Lance Tucker X Alpha!Reader - Chapter 1

I have no idea where the idea for this fic came from. It just did. Who am I to deny the fanfiction muses?

It’s my first A/B/O, so feedback is super appreciated. Also my first non-Marvel.

Smut-free, but mentions of sex and lots more language than anything else I’ve written (it’s Lance Tucker, there’s only so much I can do).

Word count: 2465

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, some definite thirsting

You groaned and gritted your teeth, hating your suppressants even as you were grateful for them. It was the middle of the first full day of your rut, and while the suppressants kept you functional, you still craved the sweet scent of an omega enough to make you wildly uncomfortable. Despite your currently over-alert sense of smell, however, there was no omega scent to be found thanks to the patches everyone wore.

The patches – another thing you both loathed and were thankful for. Thirty-some years ago, a beta scientist had said enough is enough when it came to people judging others for their orientations and created a patch that went over the scent gland and neutralized all pheromones, eliminating the normal way of determining a stranger’s orientation. You were part of the first and so far only generation that was born and grew up with the patch being mandatory for all orientations to participate in many job spheres (although not all; some jobs still had a distinct benefit to be had by having an alpha or omega orientation known). There were advantages for sure, in that no one’s orientation could be used against them to keep them from succeeding; from your observation, though, it had also made talking openly about orientations a taboo subject, which hurt everyone in the long run. Stereotypes still persisted, and “coming out” when one wasn’t in a field that was typically welcoming to one’s orientation could result in a serious backlash of hatred.

While the field of athletics held nothing against alphas – the opposite, in fact – you still kept your orientation a secret. If you came out, many people would assume you were naturally skilled and won as often as you did because you were an alpha, not because of all the time and hard work you had put into training and working on your routines. You were not about to give up the acknowledgment that you worked hard just for a little extra favor from coaches and sponsors.

With a deep breath, you forced your mind to focus and launched into your new balance beam routine. You were one of the top contenders for a spot on the next US women’s gymnastics team, and your coach was determined to push you as far as you could go. The beam was one of your strengths, so the new routine pushed your body and your mind further than any had before.

Your landing was a little shaky, but overall you thought you had done pretty well for only your second time running through the whole thing. Your fellow gymnast didn’t seem to think so.

Lance “The Fucker” Tucker was watching you and snickering. You sighed to yourself and forced your brain to listen to your coach’s feedback. Lance was a stuck-up jerk who was great at what he did and knew it. He never hesitated to criticize anyone who was less than absolutely perfect, and while you knew you were more than just good, your new routines were challenging and you didn’t quite have them down yet, providing him with plenty of fodder for torment.

“You know, Y/L/N,” he smirked, coming up to you once your coach told you to take a break, “it’s okay to admit you’re out of your league with your new routines. I’m sure your coach would understand if you needed something a bit easier.”

“Fuck off, Lance,” you sighed as you ripped open a protein bar. You were the only Olympic contender training at your uncle’s gym who hadn’t let him get under their skin yet, and he seemed to have made it his mission to change that. You weren’t about to give him that satisfaction.

“I know it can be hard to accept you’re that shitty at something you seem to enjoy,” he persisted, following you over to your gym bag where your water and a protein bar were waiting. “It’ll be better for you in the long run, though. You’ll avoid the inevitable mental breakdown and subsequent humiliation.”

“Tucker,” you turned to him, “not even you can do everything. Time to accept that intimidating me is on the list of things you’ll never succeed at.”

“I’ve still got some tricks up my sleeve,” he scoffed.

You cocked an eyebrow at his certainty and smirked. “What are you gonna do, take off your patch and go all alpha on me?”

“I might,” he glowered. “Don’t push it.”

If there were anyone you weren’t concerned about being out-alpha’d by, it was Lance Tucker. Cocky as he was, you were sure there was no way he wouldn’t let his alpha orientation be public knowledge if he were one. Most people seemed to think he was hiding it for the same reason you hid yours, but you were pretty sure you knew the truth: Lance Tucker was a beta and wouldn’t admit it. You couldn’t prove it, of course, but it did keep you from finding him intimidating. Even you had your orientation prejudices, it would seem.

Electing to ignore him, you finished your protein bar and went back to your balance beam. You caught a glimpse of Lance glowering at you from the corner of your eye and smiled as you went back to working on the individual parts of your routine. You wanted to have at least the first twenty seconds down smoothly before you left for the day.

----------

You groaned as the hot water hit your body, your sore muscles struggling to relax into the steam. Maybe you had overdone it today in practice. As much as you pretended to ignore him, you had worked twice as hard after Lance’s round of insults. Once he was done with his gymnastics career, he should try coaching; all his trainees would hate him, but his methods were annoyingly effective.

You took your time, lathering every inch of your body and letting the sweat and stress wash down the drain with the suds. As you relaxed, you ran your mind through your routine again and again, committing it to memory so you wouldn’t need to pause during Monday’s practice. You mentally traced your split leap’s transition through to your arabesque, noting form and how long each part should be held. Once you’d run your entire routine five times mentally, you shut off the water and toweled off.

It was Friday, which meant your uncle had taken your cousins out on one of their little “adventures,” as he called them. It was always your job on Friday to close down the gym, so you took your time getting dressed and putting away equipment.

When you were out of other things to do and couldn’t put it off any longer, you banged on the door to the men’s locker room. It was time for your least favorite part of the day – kicking out the straggler.

“Time’s up, Lance!” you shouted through the door. “You’d better be decent, because I’m coming in!” Pushing the door open, you were greeted by the familiar sight of Lance with his back to you at the row of sinks, working whatever he used that made it always look so perfect through his hair.

“You know, one of these days,” he smirked at you in the mirror, “you’re gonna walk in on me naked. Is that why you always come in? What are you looking for, Y/N? Is the little omega looking for the alpha experience?”

You scoffed at his smug look. “Not gonna happen, fucker, the two of us having sex or you finding out my orientation. Besides, not even you are that slow at getting dressed after practice, and that’s saying something. What do you do, stretch twice? I was the last one out of the women’s room and I got out half an hour ago.”

“So I like my privacy, big deal. I just don’t shower until the other guys have left.”

“Privacy is what the curtains on the shower stalls are for,” you told him with a glare. “Now get your shit together and get out before I throw you out on your ass.”

“Aw, Y/N, I didn’t know you cared,” he sassed back, but gathered his stuff anyway. “I do have to be going, though. Ice bath and dinner and whatnot. Takes a lot of work to remain the stunning physical specimen this body is.”

You rolled your eyes at him as he gestured up and down his body. “The only thing that’s stunning about you is the size of your ego.”

“It’s okay to admit you like what you see,” he smirked as he brushed past you uncomfortably closely. “See you tomorrow, baby doll.”

“I’m taking the weekend off.”

“Oooh, someone’s already cracking under the pressure. See you Monday, then.”

“Lucky me,” you said dryly. Lance replied by flashing you his middle finger as he exited the gym. You shook your head as you locked up, wondering how anyone could end up so arrogant as Lance Tucker.

----------

As wonderful a break as the weekend you took off had been, a welcome rest while you finished out your rut, Monday brought a new onslaught of intensity with your training and the discovery that your uncle would be out of town for the week, leaving you to close up the gym daily.

You paused outside the door to the men’s locker room. There was still equipment to put away, but you were curious. Your uncle had been the one to originally warn you that you would have to kick Lance out when you were ready to close, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he really only stayed late for you.

As silently as you could, you cracked the door open and slipped in. You could hear muttering from the locker area on the other side of the showers, Lance’s voice low as he grumbled to no one about, well, something you couldn’t hear. It would seem he stayed late every day after all.

Before you could slip back out (because seriously, maybe he wasn’t dressed yet and built like a god or not, you didn’t want to catch him naked) his voice grew louder.

“Fucking patch,” he complained, “needing fucking changed while I’m at the fucking gym. Can’t even last a decent length of time.” In the sudden silence of his voice halting, you held your breath and heard the sound of a patch being ripped off, followed by the sound of a new box of patches being opened. In the time it took him to get his next patch on, however, you caught it.

Sweet smoke and light musk and damn it, was that jasmine? It was the most alluring scent you’d ever caught and you dug your nails into your palms to keep from letting out the growl that was trying to work its way up from your chest.

Lance Tucker was an omega, and he smelled fucking good.

You forced yourself out of the million filthy fantasies that had sprung up in your mind when the muttering started again and used the sound as cover to slip back out. It took a few moments of deep breaths in the pheromone-free lobby to clear your head and calm your heart rate. That scent was going to stick in your memory for a long time.

A mental debate raged on as you put away the equipment that had been left out in the gym. You knew you shouldn’t tell him you knew; it should be his choice to tell anyone his orientation or not. But how were you supposed to act like nothing had changed with his scent burned deeply into your mind? Even thinking about it was making heat snake through your core.

It’s still Lance, you reminded yourself when you finally had to make your way back to the locker room. He’s still a jerk with an ego bigger than Texas. Nothing has changed.

Liar, your brain replied.

You clenched your jaw and banged on the locker room door as you always did. “You’d better be decent, Tucker, because I’m coming in!”

“Why, Y/N,” Lance said, poking his head around the corner of the locker area, “to what do I owe this pleasure? It’s usually your uncle kicking me out on Mondays. Finally get tired of waiting and want an alpha to fuck you sideways?”

The snort that left you was decidedly unladylike. The balls on this guy, to so blatantly bluff like that, had you choking back laughter. You didn’t even have to reply to his suggestion; your face was enough to tell Lance that you found the idea hilarious.

“Apparently not,” he muttered, shooting you a glare that had you holding back another round of giggles. “So what is it?”

“Uncle’s out of town,” you replied, reigning in your amusement. “You’re stuck with me kicking you out all week, unless you want to turn over a new leaf and actually leave in a reasonable time like a normal person.”

“Never let it be said that Lance Tucker was normal,” he smirked, shooting you another one of his cocky smiles.

No one who smells that fucking amazing could be normal, your hindbrain inputted. What you actually said, though, was, “Let a girl have her fantasies.”

Well, that was a mistake. Bag slung over his shoulder and hands in his tracksuit pockets, Lance came right up and stood inches away, his breath and yours mingling.

“You can fantasize about me all you want, baby doll,” he said, the corners of his mouth ticking up at your wide eyes.

Decent impression of an alpha growl, your helpful inner monologue kicked in. Wonder how long he practiced that. Your hindbrain was too busy trying to catch a whiff of his scent again to react – fucking patches – and it took all your willpower to not growl back and go full alpha on his fine omega ass.

“Careful what you wish for.” You really hadn’t meant to growl back, really you hadn’t. At least your hands were still by your sides instead of, well, anywhere on him.

Surprise flashed briefly across his face before the signature Tucker smirk returned.

“What do you know, little omega has practiced her alpha growl. Not bad.”

Better than yours, omega, you bit back. Damn, this was even harder than you were expecting.

“Get out, Tucker, before I throw you out on your ass.”

“Whatever you say, baby doll.” With a wink and a final smirk, he sauntered past you and out of the locker room.

Well. That probably could have gone worse. Forgetting about locking up for the moment, you went over to the sink and splashed some cold water on your face.

Training around Tucker had just gotten even harder.

#smoke musk and jasmine #lance tucker #reader #a/b/o #lance tucker x reader #omega!lance #alpha!reader #gymnastics #the bronze #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #masterlist #i still suck at tagging #also there's a rat in my house in case anyone cares

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