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sc0tters · 1 year ago

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All Bark No Bite | Ethan Edwards

summary: you and Ethan have disliked each other from the moment you met. so what happens when you connect with some old friends from high school that just so happen to be on the other team that send Ethan the wrong idea?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, thigh riding, minor mention of spanking, use of a Polaroid camera whilst having sex, swearing, use of the nickname brat and princess once or twice, use of y/n once too.

word count: 2.6k

authors note: wrote this last night after a rugby game, was running on three hours of sleep and pure excitement after the all blacks won… very much did love writing about Ethan and this was actually meant to be up yesterday but I literally got home at 1 in the morning. this request was highly detailed so I hope I did it justice!

You hated him.

Your and Ethan's little rivalry went back all the way to the first day of freshman year when he took your drink order at the coffee shop on campus because he had the same order and was late.

From that day on you hoped that he would rot in hell.

The hockey team were put in the middle of it all though when you joined the team as the new photographer. When you saw his face you were ready to quit, but you needed Coach Naurato's signature at the end of the season in order to pass the first year of your degree thus you stayed.

But that didn't mean that it was all cordial. The screaming matches you two would have were so frequent to the point where you two were not allowed in the same room together alone, not that either of you were ever going to complain about that.

So when you two hadn't said a single thing to each other in over two weeks, you were practically on cloud nine. You were at the top in all of your classes, you had a fuck buddy in Mark, and Ethan hadn't done anything to screw either of those two things up.

Ethan hated what you and Mark were, not only because of the fact that he said a wall with your bed buddy but also because the sounds of your moans had quickly become the only material he could use to jack-off to.

Just last night after hearing you leave the sophomore house when he dozed off to sleep Ethan was met with a harsh surprise, that was a dream about you.

He had to admit that he knew most of the image of you was true, he had seen your lacy thong that landed up in Marks washing and one time when you were in your office at the Yost you accidentally spilt a smoothie down your white shirt. Despite shutting the door, you had forgotten to shut the blinds by the window you had inside the office. That meant when Ethan walked past he was giving a front row seat to watch you get semi undressed. He knew it was wrong how his mouth watered at the sight of your blue bra but it just looked like it was made for your breasts.

Even though it was game day at the Yost, Ethan avoided you like the plague as he attempted to get that image out of his mind.

That's why it was so confusing to you when the conversation you were having with two of the Ohio state players was cut short by the Canadian. He had been glaring at the two boys unaware that you were catching up with them because the three of you went to high school together.

You wanted to slap that glare off of Ethan's face but as the players from Ohio were scattered around you knew that you would get in trouble if you did indeed hit him.

So instead when you saw he had his bag ready to go you dragged him to your office. It was far away enough from the main parts of the players areas so that nobody would hear you two.

You shut the door behind you and was ready to unleash your full fury at him "what the hell was that?" You both spoke at the same time.

Ethan was quicker to let out a scoff "you wanna tell me?" He asked taking a step towards you "fucking touching them like that." The boy added as you were now against your table as you tried to avoid being too close to him.

Yeah you had hugged both boys but that was because you hadn't seen them since the previous year "green is not a good colour for you," you pointed out with a laugh as he was acting rather jealous.

The comment made him roll his eyes "could you maybe not be a little brat for one second?" He cocked his head as he had now pushed you onto the table.

You knew that you were teetering on a fine line with him "what are you going to do if I don't?" The smirk was clear on your face and it only became more evident when his own facial expressions hardened.

He wanted to do it, he wanted to show you but Mark was acting like a mental blocker. Sure it was stupid but Ethan was a man of bro code "knew you'd be all bark and no bite." You mumbled shaking your head as you moved your hand to his chest to move past him.

That seemed to press the on button in the boys head as his hand cupped your cheek, and before you both knew it he was now kissing you.

It took you a second before you kissed him back causing what quickly became a fight between your tongues that you lost when Ethan placed a slap on your ass. The gesture was small but it brought a moan out of you and he felt it in his shorts.

The sounds that he had heard so much from the room next door was now right in front of him.

The Canadian pulled you towards the couch as he sat down letting you land on top of him "let's get this off of you," he motioned to the strings of your sweatpants as you nodded quickly pulling the gray pants off.

The boy looked at the sight as he released out a groan "look at you in these pretty little panties," he mumbled as he rested his hand on hip as he wanted to move your hoodie that was hiding the fabric.

As his fingers dug in that bone it caused you to grind against his thigh, eliciting another moan from you.

It caught Ethan off guard as he looked up at you "you like that?" He asked as he brushed the loose strands of your hair behind your ear.

You placed your hands on his shoulders "yeah," you moaned as you leaned forward to kiss him again.

His hands didn't let up as he continued to help you reach what you both hoped was your high "god you’re wet,” Ethan’s head fell back as the fabric on his thigh was quickly becoming soaked.

When his head dropped you took the opportunity to kiss his neck making the effort to draw hickeys on the area.

He squeezed your thighs as he moved his hand back to your ass to place another smack on it “been waiting to have you like this.” The hockey player confessed as he watched you smile.

It was a shit eating grin “you must have been so jealous of Mark then pretty boy.” You cooed letting out a sigh as your mouth formed an o shape.

Ethan scoffed at the mention of his housemate “that mouth of yours is going to get you in some hot water,” he warned as he pushed his lips into a thin line.

In the best of times you said some things that you probably weren’t meant to “it’s not like you’re going to do anything about it.” You teased, reminding him of what you had said earlier “all bark. No bite,” you pecked his lips between the two sentences as you bit the inside of your cheek trying your best to suppress a moan when the boy forced your hips into his thigh.

He knew he shouldn’t have reacted because you were simply trying to get under his skin “up,” Ethan placed you next to him on the couch as he began to unbuckle his pants.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you were left speechless “you got condoms princess?” The Canadian asked as he as he knew that he had none in his bag.

The sound of your laughter could be heard as you nodded getting up to grab the box that was in a drawer. Ethan thought that you had kept them because you and Mark had slept together before on this couch. When in fact one of the freshmen asked you to get him some once, not wanting to know what size Rutger was you just told him to grab what he needed from the drawer.

Ethan had kicked his pants off and had now caught the attention of your camera that was sat on the table next to the couch.

He met you in the middle of the room in nothing more than his boxers “let’s get this off of you,” the hockey player muttered as he tugged at the end of your hoodie. You lifted up your arms in an attempt to help his efforts “you knew you were gonna get fucked today didn’t ya?” He groaned seeing that you were in a matching set.

A smirk was evident on your face, “Mark usually fucks me real good after a big win,” that was the honest truth, Mark always landed up back in your dorm after a powerful team performance “lay down pretty boy,” your voice was soft as you sent him a smile.

The Canadian scoffed “what makes you think that you’re in charge?” He asked still listening to you.

He watched as you rolled the condom over his cock “thought brats always get what they want?” You showed him that you weren’t going to let him forget about what he called you.

You smiled as you straddled over his thighs using his cock to tease your clit before you slid onto it “fuck,” you groaned as his hands found their familiar home on your hips “taking me so well,” his breath was hot against the shell of your neck as he helped you fuck yourself on him.

The sound of skin slapping could have been heard from anyone in that hallway but thankfully all of the umich players were far too focused on celebrating the big win.

Ethan was bigger than Mark which was honestly really surprising to you because you always thought that the Canadian screamed small dick energy.

But as he managed to hit spots that Mark could only ever scratch “so good,” your eyes screwed shut as Ethan wrapped his lips around your nipple.

He sucked at your breast letting his hand massage the other one “E,” you moaned as your fingers raked through his hair slightly pulling at it “wanna take a picture of you,” you confessed letting your thoughts be voiced.

You were honestly surprised that you were able to form that coherent sentence as you could feel the coil in your stomach that was getting tighter by the second.

It was weird, usually your camera was only something that you used for the team on the ice or during funny moments. This was fitting under neither category “here I was thinking that I was the one with no bite.” Ethan watched as you reached over to grab the Polaroid camera that was next to your big camera. The boy was able to use this moment to fuck you at a different angle almost causing you to land flat on your face by the surprise movement “it’s my job to be the little shit,” you mumbled sending him a glare.

Ethan let out a laugh “sorry princess,” he apologised and attempted to make it up to your by leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw back down to your breasts.

As his face was nuzzled between the two you took the moment to take that picture letting out a whimper as he looked back up at you “my turn,” the hockey player reached out with one hand to grab the camera and used his other to rub his thumb over your clit.

Your head fell back and it caused him to get the perfect picture. As the piece of film came out he knew that the image of your scrunched up face trailing down to your breasts that were quickly becoming more visibly marked by the second was you to be one that was going to live in his wallet.

For safe keeping’s of course but also for a little bit of material that he could use as he pleased.

He liked how he was pulling moans out of your mouth quicker than he had ever heard Mark do it.

Ethan knew that it was wrong but subconsciously he had made a competition within himself to outcompete the boy that he had heard you with so many times already.

It was like if the Canadian could make you feel better than his Michigan born teammate then maybe you’d cut things out with Mark then.

Maybe even you’d pick Ethan up as a fuck buddy instead.

But he was pulled from his thoughts as you clenched around him practically sucking the life out of his cock as he was brought back to reality “you’re so good to me,” you cooed as the attention to your clit was bringing you ever so closer to your high.

He placed a soft kiss to your collar bone “you wanna be a good girl and come for me?” He asked just increasing the rate of which his thumb rubbed the sensitive nub as you began to bounce your hips against him.

The coil in your stomach was so tight that it almost hurt “fuck me wow!” You yelled as your whole body shook as you even felt the orgasm in your toes.

Thankfully for you the boy was right behind you as you throbbing and clenching around him spurred on his orgasm, causing him to mumble a string of so good as he helped you ride out your high.

You found the energy in yourself to move off of him as your body collapsed on the couch next to him but thankfully on the side that didn’t have the now fully processed photos.

Because we can’t have those getting damaged now can we?

Ethan smiled as he ran his fingers through your hair “we should go that again some other time,” he proposed causing you to let out a giggle as it was the first thing that he had said to you after sex.

You looked at him leaning in to peck his lips as you were still in that fucked out state “my pretty little brat,” the Canadian mumbled as he brushed your hair out of your face.

As you leaned forward to grab your hoodie his phone went off with a string of notifications “someone’s popular,” you teased sending him a smile.

Ethan let out a laugh “I could say the same thing to you,” he had a giant smirk on his face as he flipped his phone around to you.

Mark 🛑 you know where y/n is? saw you with her earlier

Your face turned red as you had totally forgotten about the fact that you and Mark were actually meant to do some work for a class after the game.

So you let out a groan as you tried to get up “I gotta go,” you announced as you pulled your sweatpants over your legs not bothering to find your panties as you figured that you could leave them as a memento for the Canadian.

You were grateful that you had a spare pair of slides in the office as you didn’t feel like putting on your airforces “you can let yourself out right?” You asked as you grabbed the photo of him and your phone.

Speechless all Ethan could do was nod.

He clearly thought that your evening went down worse than his did.

Maybe this wasn’t meant to happen again.

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards smut #ethan edwards imagine #imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #oneshots #hockey imagines #umich smut #umich imagine #umich x reader #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards x y/n #amber writes fics

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maximumwobblerbanditdonut · 5 months ago

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NEW ZEALAND RETAIN OLYMPIC WOMEN’S RUGBY SEVEN TITLE IN PARIS 🇫🇷🏉

Aotearoa 🇳🇿 that’s Gold 🥇

Black Ferns Sevens are Olympic Champions !

Les Black Ferns Sevens sont Championnes Olympiques !

It is the Black Ferns' third rugby sevens Olympic medal after also securing silver at Rio 2016.

The Black Ferns Sevens are the first women's rugby team to secure back to back Olympic golds. Fiji's men's team is the only nation to achieve that feat before today.

The Black Ferns (Māori: Rarauhe Pango) treated the Stade de France crowd in Paris to a powerful haka after winning back-to-back Olympic gold medals in the rugby sevens. Pushed in the final by a resilient Canadian side. The Black Ferns won 19-12.

Following the medal ceremony the players went to the side of the field with their gold medals on and performed the haka.

Take a bow ladies and keep doing what you do best. Congrats and cheers for the gold medal! 🤩

Portia Woodman-Wickliffe fends off a Canada defender on her way to a try for the Black Ferns sevens in Paris. (Source: Getty)

New Zealand held off a spirited Canada to defend their Olympic gold in Paris CARL DE SOUZA/AFP via Getty Images

New Zealand players celebrate following victory in the women's rugby sevens gold medal match. Photo / Getty Images

New Zealand Sevens were officially launched in 2000. They have played in 80 tournaments, winning 50 and finishing runners-up 14 times.

Attendance records for women’s rugby are being smashed quicker than a Blyde runaway these days. At these Olympics, more than 60,000 fans packed into Stade de France for all three days. In September the Black Ferns and England play a WXV 1 Test at Twickenham. With a capacity of 75,000, there is a high chance the game will sell out and break the record once again.

#Paris2024 #olympics #TheFernIsAllOfUs🥇 #RugbySevensWomen #Aotearoa #goldmedal #rugby #theHaka #NZTeam

Posted 31st July 2024

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mrsterlingeverything · 6 months ago

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I’m Canadian and I only spread cheeks for HOCKEY players. (And rugby but that’s a different conversation)

Can i be canadian

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justbackgroundnoise · 5 months ago

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Not my Canadian girls beating Australia in the semi finals of the rugby 7’s tournament to play for gold!!! What a performance by this team and what a game to watch 👏👏👏

#women’s rugby #rugby Canada #paris 2024 #olympics #paris 2024 olympics

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canadachronicles · 11 months ago

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View this post on Instagram

A post shared by HSBC SVNS (@svnsseries)

instagram

Sadly, the men's team did not make it to the knock-out stages, but this was pure skill!

The women are in the semi-final and will be taking on New Zealand tomorrow! A tough one, but Charity Williams is on fire!!!

Source: Rugby Canada's Instagram Page

#Rugby #Rugby Sevens #Rugby 7s #Rugby Players #Canadian Rugby Players #Canadian Rugby #Vancouver Sevens #Vancouver 7s #Canada Sevens #HSBC Sevens Series #HSBC Sevens World Series #HSBC Sevens World Series 2023-2024 #BC Place #Vancouver #BC #British Columbia #Canada #Canada Chronicles #Instagram

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emmster · 5 months ago

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Okay I just saw someone’s Olympic x cod au (and it was so cool) so now I’m asking everyone what their Olympic x cod head canons are.

I think they’d probably be playing Rugby or Football. At least Ghost would be, he’s a big guy so he’d be a Rugby player.

Soap would be Football and they’d get into arguement over what sport is better.

Gaz I can see being a swimmer. Freestyle swimming.

Price I can see as either a Boxer or he might Golf because he’s older.

Now as for Winter Olympics (I’m Canadian), both Soap and Ghost would play hockey. Ghost is a goalie and Soap is a forward. Gaz either snowboards or does speed skating. Price participates in the Biathlon.

#ask #answer #this one is interesting #call of duty #cod headcanons #Simon ghost Riley #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price

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nikethestatue · 1 year ago

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A Match Baked in Heaven

Chapter 4 Here

Part V

My Girl

Nuala W. Raith.

27 years old. A cyber security senior analyst at the New Scotland Yard. Graduated from the London School of Economics. First job was with Accenture, but was quickly recruited by the government due to her phenomenal computer skills. Fairly successful modelling career in her teens and early twenties. Longest relationship was with a Canadian hockey player. Their engagement broke up when he was photographed with a scantily-clad stripper whose head was buried in his crotch.

Hobbies: gaming, football, rugby, cooking, live concerts

Competitive swimmer throughout her uni studies

Elain printed out the profile and placed the page in her bag. She slid her IPad into it as well and then went on to put on her coat.

She just received a message on her phone stating ‘come out, matchmaker!’ That was exactly what she expected from her wild and untamed client.

Piglet was freaking out at the door, snorting and grunting and giving a few pathetic little barks, while he clawed at the door, impatient to leave.

“Will you calm down?” Elain muttered, and opened the door for him and he sprinted out like his arse was on fire.

There was a Bentley idling at the curb and the moment Piglet rushed out, the car door opened and Azriel Night stepped out.

Elain Archeron paused in the doorway, watching her client and marvelling at his ungodly handsomeness. Unlike his usual uniform of jeans, boots and some kind of basic shirt, today, he was wearing a dark suit, which hugged his tall, slender, muscular form to ridiculous perfection. The white shirt that was open to the chest didn’t hurt either. The dark tattoos that snaked from under his shirt and spilled over his neck and his hands made him look dangerous and desirable. It was the dichotomy of his whole being in a handsome dark package–he was a combination of dangerous and damaged, aggressive and gentle, thoughtful and mannerless, inelegant and stylish.

Suddenly, he squatted right on the sidewalk, and opened his arms wide, while Piglet leapt at him, nuzzling at him wildly, and Azriel hugged him and stroked him.

“I missed you too, my little matey. How are you doing?”

Piglet stood on his one hind leg and placed his paws on Azriel’s shoulders, going in for a full body hug.

“How’s our girl? Is she wearing purple today, since you are rockin’ your purple tie?”

Azriel already knew the drill–outside, Piglet wore coats, ties or scarves. Today, he had on a Burberry jacket and a purple scarf that matched his coat. At home or inside, he wore his stylish bows.

At that moment, Elain stepped out of the house, and Azriel looked up and whistled loudly.

“No...she is wearing a trench coat…nice touch. I hope there is nothing underneath it…”

“Mr. Night!” Elain snapped at him, blushing profusely. “You are being scandalous and utterly inappropriate!”

He laughed, watching her, as he stroked Piglet’s back.

Elain seemed to look rather sensible, in her camel knee-length trench, a large leather tote over her shoulder, and sexy brown leather booties, but somehow, she made it all look incredibly elegant, and dare he say, sexy. Elain never went for ‘sexy’, but somehow, she made all her pristine, somewhat old-fashioned outfits look alluring. The fact that she was wearing subtle, nude fishnets didn’t hurt either. Azriel always found himself intrigued by what she was going to wear, and so far, he distinctly recalled each and every one of her ensembles. Now, he was actively pondering if the fishnets were stockings?

“She is mad at me already! I think it’s our record time,” he whisper-shouted to the dog. “Is it my fault,” he addressed her, “that trench coats look good on sexy women and make me wish that there was nothing beneath them. It’s every man’s fantasy, you know.”

“I am not here to fulfil your fantasy,” she cut him off. “I am simply wearing a coat.”

“Mmmm.”

He waited for her to come down the stairs and then extended his hand to her. She shook it reluctantly and he smiled brightly at her, his expression teasing.

“Did you watch the game?” he asked immediately.

“Hello to you too,” she said, while Azriel opened the car door for her and Pinky leapt in eagerly, ready for a new adventure.

“Well, hello then Ms. Archeron,” Azriel murmured, leaning so close to her that his nose almost skimmed her cheek. ”Allow me to help you inside.”

She frowned at him, as she slid inside the car, and Azriel followed her right after.

“Good afternoon, Miss,” the driver greeted her.

She greeted him back and then looked at Azriel, a bemused expression on her face.

“Where is Mr. Night? What did you do with him? And who are you?”

He laughed, throwing his head back and she looked at his thick throat, swallowing audibly.

“I mean, a car, you are being almost polite, dressed in a suit…that’s not the Mr. Night that I know. Usually he curses, argues and taunts me relentlessly.”

“Aw, Ms, Archeron,” he ran his index finger over her long lock. “Day is still young. There is time for all that.”

“Oh, phew,” she pretended to wipe her brow. “I was getting worried.”

“You shouldn’t. The arsehole is still here and happily present. So, back to my previous question?”

“Which is?”

“Are you wearing anything under the trench?” he teased and she seethed at him as usual, crossing her arms on her chest and glowering at him.

He raised his hands in mock surrender and said, “Okay, okay. I’ll behave. But…are you?” he whispered quickly.

“One more word, and I am leaving,” she warned.

“Dev, drive fast,” Azriel ordered and the driver smiled, as he sped down the road.

Meanwhile, Pinkly crawled over Elain and landed on Azriel’s lap, totally disregarding Elain’s displeased hiss. Azriel chuckled, while Pinky pressed his flat face against the window.

Elain reached into her bag and took out a pretty box with a scowl on her face. She pushed the box into Azriel’s lap without saying a word and then turned to the opposite window.

“What’s that?” he pondered.

“For you,” was all she answered.

Curious, very, very curious, he opened the box, while Pinky tore his attention away from the window and was now panting with anticipation.

“Is that for me?” Azriel gasped, but it was genuine surprise, and not mockery. Surprise and utter delight.

The box was filled with biscuits of all kinds. Homemade.

“I said it was for you,” she shrugged like she didn’t care.

“You baked? For me?” he whispered in disbelief.

“Well, not just for you,” she argued quickly. “We had Sunday lunch at my sister Feyre’s. She served some very dodgy salmon,”

“How dodgy?” he smirked.

“Dodgy enough that we mostly ate mash and these biscuits that I brought. I had baked entirely too many. So,”

“I am getting the overflow. Thanks, pretty matchmaker!” she elbowed her gently. “I can’t believe you thought of me and made me a box!”

“Well, these are lemon,” she began pointing at different varieties of biscuits in the box. “These are almond horns. Those are orange and hazelnut,”

“Oh my god,” he marvelled in appreciation.

“Chocolate and coffee nibs. And plain shortbread.”

He looked at her. Really looked at her. Her old-fashioned, picturesque beauty, the enormous eyes, the beautiful hair, and for once, he saw someone special. Someone who didn’t fit any moulds that he was familiar with, and once again, he was at a loss. He didn’t know what to make of her.

“Elain…” he said softly, and then immediately corrected himself, “Ms. Archeron. This might be the most thoughtful and kind thing anyone’s ever done for me. I thank you. Truly.”

“You are welcome. It’s not a big thing, but you seemed to enjoy them.”

“More than you think. You baked for me. Made something with your hands…That means a lot.”

“Well, enjoy it,” Elain said gently, while Pinky was growling with impatience.

“Can I give him one?”

“Just the plain shortbread,” Elain allowed, and Azriel fed one of the biscuits to the overexcited dog, who chomped on it noisily and messily. “He is perpetually hungry and if he could, he’d eat the whole box. He climbed onto the chair and then somehow got on top of the table and ate a whole bowl of raspberries. That was yesterday. A couple of days before, he somehow snuck into the open drawer of the refrigerator, stole a bag of sausages, ate them all, and promptly got diarrhoea…So there is that.”

Azriel was laughing silently, his whole body shaking.

“Oh no. Why did he get the shits?”

“Because he ate like 7 or 8 sausages. He is a smallish dog. It would be the equivalent of me eating maybe 15-20 sausages. I’d get diarrhoea too!”

“Valid. What else?”

“He ate three bananas, peel and all, again by way of stealing. Then, when I wasn’t looking, he grabbed half of my cheese and onion sandwich, and ate all of that too.”

“What about the dodgy salmon?”

“Even he wouldn’t eat that!” Elain laughed. “He did eat a good heap of mash and gravy, a bread roll with butter, then proceeded to steal my sister Nesta’s steamed tofu,”

“Jesus Christ,” Azriel gasped in horror.

“Immediately spat it out,”

“Not blaming him at all. I’d spit it out too!”

“And then went to my father and cried fake pug tears to him because he was so upset that he stole and ate the wrong thing. Of course my father then had to feed him cheese and ham. As compensation of some kind. Emotional distress I am assuming?”

“My god I love him!” Azriel groaned. “I might have to steal him from you.”

“Well, then you’ll die,” she warned placidly. Azriel was laughing loudly now, considering her nonchalant tone. When he finally came to, he prodded,

“So?”

“I watched the game,” she confirmed. “You did well–one goal and two assists.”

“What about Pink?”

“Piglet watched it too. Now I can show him reruns of football games–he seems to enjoy watching things run.”

“And I am a thing that runs?” Azriel chuckled.

“You certainly are. You have incredible stamina,”

His mouth quirked and he crooned, “You have no idea…”

Elain gawked at him, and then realised what she had said, and rolled her eyes.

“You do remember, Mr. Night that I am not the one who is auditioning to be your potential wife?” She reminded him primly. “I am not the match. I am the matchmaker.”

“How can I forget? Unless you finally change your mind and just go for it,” he proposed. “You already know what you’d be signing up for with me. I have a pretty good idea about you as well. I don’t know why you are fighting this so hard?”

“Yes. I wonder why indeed.”

They were driving through the city and Piglet was panting with enjoyment, looking out the window.

Azriel gently rubbed the dog’s furry neck, relaxed against the back seat, manspreading widely. Elain threw inquisitive glances when she thought he wasn’t watching, and they mostly landed below his waist. As was his usual manner, Azriel let her look as much as she wanted. The car was big enough–even with his height and spread, there was plenty of space. So it was her choice to look, and it would be rude of him not to let her.

“I don’t want you to get so close to him,” Elain said suddenly.

Azriel looked at her quizzically.

“Piglet,” she clarified. “He is getting attached to you. He waits for you at the door,”

At that Azriel smiled, but Elain continued,

“He thinks of you as a friend.”

“I am his friend,”

“But this is all temporary. You understand that, don’t you? Once you are matched with the right person, our relationship will end. And I don’t want Piglet to think that you’ll be around, coming to play with him or be present in his and my life,”

Azriel chewed the inside of his cheek for a long while, thinking about what she said.

“It doesn’t have to end,” he said at last.

Please don’t.

Don’t end it.

“You are a client, Mr. Night,” Elain added, “I can’t imagine you’d have time for me once you are getting to know your future wife and getting married.”

“That’s it then?”

“Couple of months, maybe three, at most,” she confirmed. “That’s how long most of my associations with my clients last. One lasted a year, but that’s highly unusual. Besides, you are under a time constraint. I imagine that by January, we will be done.”

“I am sorry, but I disagree, Ms. Archeron,” Azriel said firmly. “Perhaps this is how things have gone before, but I cannot accept it. Let’s come up with a new agreement then…a new plan,”

“What sort of plan?”

“Something that would allow us to keep in touch beyond this initial agreement,”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, scrubbing his hand over his chin.

“Teach me manners?” he proposed. “Proper manners. Like a gentleman.”

Elain laughed, “I am not a miracle worker, Mr. Night. I am not sure I have the capability to do something like that.”

“You aren’t giving yourself enough credit. But for now, why don’t we just leave things as status quo. Three-four months is a long time. Lots of things could happen in that timeframe. Meanwhile, I’d like to keep meeting with you and Pinky.”

“Yes, I suppose,” she agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

“Do you not like me, Ms. Archeron?” he queried, no hesitation in his question.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” she admitted. “But you are an usual client for me, and I struggle with reigning you in,”

“Perhaps you shouldn't try? And just let things be as they are?” he suggested. “Maybe I am not meant to be reigned in?”

“It’s beginning to look like that,” Elain sighed. “Now, where are we going? Why couldn’t we meet at my office?”

“Where is your sense of adventure?” he smiled. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Hmmm…Very, very marginally.”

“Aw, you wound me, Ms. Archeron! But I will take you to a place you’ll undoubtedly enjoy.”

Elain looked outside the window and suddenly felt Azriel’s large, heavy palm cover her hand. He was silent, but he threaded their fingers together and held her hand firmly in his.

She turned her head and breathed, ‘Mr. Night’.

He looked straight at her, his face emotionless as usual, but said just as softly ‘Ms. Archeron’. He almost dared her to say something, or tug her hand away from his, but he wouldn’t allow it, and just kept her in place. To her credit, she didn’t attempt to either.

Piglet turned his head and looked at them, assessing the hand-holding. Then, bouncing with a surplus of excitement, he jumped on Azriel, bucking and shimmying wildly, before rolling onto Elain’s lap, waiting for a belly scratch, and then slithering back on Azriel.

“See, he is on our side,” Azriel chuckled, scratching the supple rolls of fat on the pug. “He is team Elriel.”

“Team what?”

“Elriel,”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“El–for Elain, and Riel for Azriel. Duh? Do I have to teach you everything?!”

“Where do you even come up with this nonsense?” she looked at him, perplexed.

“Elriel is not nonsense, Ms. Archeron. It’s our ship name. Pinky is the first shipper.”

“My god. You’ve read too many romance novels, Mr. Night.”

“Yeah, well, it gets boring on the road,” he shrugged. “So I read.”

“Romance novels?”

“Fantasy. Dark romance. Romantasy. Whatever.”

“Romantasy?”

“Are you judging me?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she shook her head, stifling a laugh.

They crossed the river, and Elain looked around, trying to figure out where they were going.

At last, she exclaimed, “Borough Market?”

“Nope,” he popped his lips.

“Where then?!” she whined.

“Patience.”

“I want the apple crisp!” she begged.

“You always seem to want some kind of apple crisp,” he teased.

“It’s my favourite. This one has bruleed custard on top. It’s so goooddd,” she moaned.

“Maybe next time,” he promised, smiling to himself.

The appreciation that he had for Elain’s unabashed love for food and eating was hard to describe. All the other women he ever went out with insisted on salads, pretended like they weren’t hungry, opted for tofu and seaweed, and in general, avoided eating as much as possible. Elain was about tea, and custard, and cake, and hearty stews.

“We are here,” he said at last. The car parked and he went to open the door. Pinky hopped out first, and then Elain climbed out and threw her head back.

“We are going to the Shard?” she asked.

“We are!” He curled his arm offering it to her and she took it.

Elain seemed surprised, but she followed him nevertheless, while Pinky stepped in front of them with his usual self importance, like he knew where he was going. Azriel could only dream of having this dog’s confidence!

The three of them took the lift up to Shangri-La hotel and were immediately greeted by an obsequious female hostess, who looked at Azriel like he was a dick-on-a-stick.

“Mr. Night, please follow me,” she flitted about, swaying her hips, as she paid no attention to Elain, and ushered them to a table in front of the windows, which overlooked the stunning vistas of London. It felt as if they sat right on top of Tower Bridge. Piglet plastered his face against the window, snorting with amazement. Whatever he was seeing, he was very impressed.

“He is a support animal. We have all the documentation,” Azriel told the hostess, but she waved her hand at him.

“Of course, Mr. Night. That wouldn’t be a problem.”

“He is very well-behaved,” Azriel assured her, while observing Elain’s pinched little face. She wasn’t liking what was happening here.

Finally, the woman left, and Elain muttered, “Why even ask me for help? You have a ready-to-go wife right here. Wives on tap, I am sure.”

Azriel laughed at her.

“If I didn’t know you better, I would’ve thought that you were jealous, Ms. Archeron.”

“Jealous? Hardly,” she scoffed.

“Phew, I was beginning to worry that you were developing feelings for me and my company,” he snickered. “Allow me,” he offered to take her trench–something the hostess should’ve done, but apparently, she was too star struck.

Elain unbelted and shrugged the coat off and Azriel looked her over with interest that he wasn’t even trying to hide.

“Blimey,” he exhaled.

Elain wore a form-fitting nude jumper and a knee-length skirt with brown and purple abstract pattern. Frankly, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the round pair of glorious tits that the jumper did all kinds of favours for. He even liked the one strand of fat pearls around her neck.

“None. Don’t worry. But,” she looked around, “this is nice. Thank you, Mr. Night. I appreciate the thought. Imagine–I’ve never been here before. It’s been on the list of places to go, but we never could make it. So, thank you! I’ve just checked an item off my bucket list.”

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Archeron,” he included his head. “Care to share what else is on your bucket list?”

“No,” she told him immediately, as she pulled out her IPad from her bag. “We are here to talk about you.”

He held the chair for her and she sat down.

“And here I thought that this Pink Afternoon Tea will thaw you a bit! Champagne at least?”

“I’ll have a glass,” she agreed graciously.

“You are not pregnant or anything like that, right?” he goaded her.

She rolled her eyes and told him, “Not that I am not aware of.”

“So. There is someone in your life to get pregnant by?” he pressed.

“I’ll be asking you a series of questions,” Elain said, ignoring him and his probing. “Please answer truthfully. I am building your profile. There are no right or wrong answers.”

“May I tell you something meanwhile?”

“Sure.”

“You look sexy as fuck, matchmaker. It’s dangerous.”

She sucked in her breath and nervously picked at her pearls.

“Mr. Night…”

“Ms. Archeron. I see what I see.”

At that moment, their champagne was delivered, followed by waiters with the tea service. Elain exhaled a relieved breath.

It looked spectacular–Reuben sandwiches, Truffle Egg and Cress, Smoked Salmon, Coronation Chicken–all done in various shades of pink. There were chicken liver parfaits, and tiny burgers. Pink scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam. And a variety of little architecturally-impressive pastries–a layer cake with pistachios and cherries, raspberry plum cake, something called shang mont rose, and the Pink Sphere.

The Pink Afternoon Tea at the Shard (Shangri-La Hotel, London)

They even brought a bowl of water and a bowl of whipped cream for Piglet.

“It’s beautiful. Almost too beautiful to eat,” Elain commented, inspecting all the offering.

“Almost,” Azriel raised his champagne flute. “But not quite. To us, Ms. Archeron. To our tenuous friendship. Maybe it will grow into something more.”

Elain glanced at him and whispered, “maybe,” before sipping her champagne.

“I won’t be able to train properly after all this,” Azriel commented, as he bit into one of the sandwiches, “but you only live once, yeah?”

“Your first concert?” Elain asked, looking down at her IPad.

Piglet already polished all the cream off, and was now snoring softly under the table.

Azriel thought for a second, and said,

“Eminem. I was fourteen. Cass and I snuck out and slept outside all night, but we got in. It was incredible.”

She smiled and whispered, “that must have been amazing…”

“It really was.”

“Favourite movie?”

“Fight Club.”

“Favourite singer or band?”

“Led Zeppelin.”

“I could’ve guessed. You seem like the type.”

“Oh, and what type is that?”

“Old-fashioned, but rebellious.”

“What about you? Tay Tay? Adele?”

Elain wrinkled her nose.

“If we are talking singers, then it’s Amy Winehouse,” she said. “Band–it’s always the Rolling Stones.”

“Ahhh…well, that’s to be expected.”

“Why?”

“You like the classics.”

“Look at us, figuring each other out.” Her tone was vaguely sarcastic. Then she asked the next question, “First celebrity crush?”

Azriel took a while to think about that one, sipping his tea, and finishing up his little burger.

“Brad Pitt.”

“Oh?” Elain smiled. “Really?”

“He is a beautiful man. What can I say? In ‘Troy’ I think.”

“First thing you do when you wake up?”

“Think about football,” he told her instantly. “I am dedicated to my game, my team, my city. I work hard for what I do.”

“What was your dream job when you were young?”

“I didn’t think I’d have one at all,” he told her honestly. Elain didn’t know how to follow up on that statement. “Thought I’d be in a gang, or something. Maybe in prison. Maybe dead,”

“That’s…very grim,” she frowned.

“That’s the reality of those lads who I grew up with. My reality. I just happen to run well with a ball.”

“How do you think others view you?”

“They either like me or hate me. I am good looking, so some respond to that. Others cannot abide my character. I don’t care, to be honest. I only care about the opinions of very few people.”

“Who?” she asked quickly, though he suspected that it wasn’t part of the questionnaire.

“Cassian, I suppose. Rhys. My team. Coach. You.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

Elain hid her face behind her cup, aimlessly picking at her sandwich, but Azriel watched her closely.

“You can’t ask questions like these and not expect uncomfortable answers,” he reminded her simply.

“Why me though?”

“For a posh, prissy bird, you are surprisingly accepting. I suppose I appreciate that, so I don’t want you to think of me…badly.”

“I don’t, you know.”

“I do. And that’s what’s so surprising. You are a nice sort of person.”

Elain adjusted her hair, trying to make herself comfortable, and asked,

“What do you not tolerate?”

“Disloyalty. Random cruelty.”

Her eyes fell on his scarred hands, while he spread some jam on his scone and popped it in his mouth. Despite the scars, his hands were attractive. Big and strong and sure.

“Where do you want to live?”

“London. It’s home. It understands me.”

“Biggest fear?”

He didn’t say anything for a while.

“I’ll tell you,” he drummed his fingers on the table, “but we say it together. You say yours, and I’ll say mine.”

“Mr. Night,” she began, but he interrupted her.

“No, Ms. Archeron. This is the way we do it. If you don’t like it, move on to the next questions.”

Elain sighed and murmured ‘fine’.

“On three then…One, two, three.”

Loneliness.

Both of them blurted the same word at the same time.

Loneliness.

Elain stared at him. A little shocked. Azriel only chuckled.

“Well then…”

He smiled again.

“I might need more Champagne.”

“I'll ask lighter questions,” she promised quickly, not commenting on their shared fear.

“Please do, before I get black out drunk at Afternoon Tea at the Shard. Do they have whiskey here?”

“Mr. Night, you aren’t drinking whiskey!”

“Not yet. But I might soon. Are you eating your burger?”

“No. You can have it.”

She typed something in her notebook and he meanwhile ate her mini burger in two bites.

“Do you wear pyjamas to bed?” came the next question, and Azriel huffed at it.

“No. I sleep completely naked.”

She cleared her throat and went on,

“Boxers or briefs?”

Azriel grinned and leaned back in his chair, as was his manner when he got comfortable and amused.

“Well, well…Boxer briefs, Ms. Archeron,” he answered with a wink. “I normally like everything to be tucked in there, and not flop in the wind.”

Elain snorted a laugh.

“You see,” he continued. “The Lord hath endowed me well in that region. There is much to hold in place. It’s like wrestling a python into my poor drawers every morning…”

“Oh, how tragic. It must be very difficult for you,” she mocked.

But Azriel didn’t miss the lovely blush that spread on her cheeks.

“It is a struggle, but one that I accepted humbly. Wouldn’t be surprised if they could see it all the way in America. Makes our American cousins all kinds of edgy seeing a British cock in all its glory.”

“Oh my god,”

Leaning towards her, he whispered conspiratorially, “don’t tell Cassian. He gets a bit…competitive.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Elain promised.

“Hardly a secret. Anything else you’d like to know, matchmaker? Or see?”

“The most significant of your tattoos?” she hopped over his proposition just like that.

He rubbed his chest, and said, “A Churchill quote: It is the time to dare and endure.”

“Is that something that helps you?”

“Something to keep me grounded when things get tough. I also have this one,” he pointed to his forearm. “Arsenal crest. And a Union Jack on my shoulder.”

The next question was Azriel’s favourite. Elain asked,

“Maradona or Pele?”

“Diego Armando Maradona,” he said at once.

“Do you believe in god?”

“No.”

“Can you change a tyre?”

“Yes.”

“The first thing you look at in a woman?”

“Her gaze. Her look.”

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked quickly, without raising her eyes from the tablet.

“No. Never. Have you?” he asked quickly.

“This isn’t about me,”

“Answer the question,” he ordered.

“No, Mr. Night. I have not been in love. Do you want to marry?”

“Seems like I have to.”

“If you didn’t need to.”

“Marriage changes little, but if the woman wants it, then yes, I would marry.”

“And children? Would you like to have children?”

“Yes. Four.”

She glanced at him and repeated, “Four?”

“Yes. Four.”

“What do you know how to cook?”

“Steak. Only the best eggs you’ve ever eaten. Really good lamb stew. A bacon sandwich. You won’t go hungry with me, pretty matchmaker. Don’t worry.”

“Is this another proposal?”

“Always!” he grinned at her. “Now that you know everything about me, am I making a more appealing candidate?”

“I am sure that you are, for others. I am not looking for a husband, Mr. Night,” she reminded him dryly.

“Why hasn’t the ginger bloke closed the deal?” Azriel started on the pastries, popping one of them in his mouth whole. That solicited a frown from Elain, but he only smiled at her. “What’s he waiting for?”

“Why do you think it’s the man, and not me?”

“You are a fucking matchmaker, princess. Of course you wanna get married. Come on now,” he bubbled his lips. “It’s like saying I am a footballer, but I don’t want to win the Ballon D’Or. Of course I do. Probably no chance of it, but nevertheless, the dream is there.”

“Maybe, hypothetically, I want to get married. But it’s nothing and to no one specific,” she finally relented.

“Well, that’s a start,” he smiled. “Anything else? What do you want to know? My favourite colour? It’s cobalt blue, by the way. Funny how you wore a skirt in that colour the first time we met. You think it’s a sign?” he winked at her.

“No. I do not.”

“You are so hard to impress,” he complained jokingly. “Tough little cookie. But I’ll break that hard exterior and will get to the soft, gooey inside, the delicious centre.”

“Mr. Night, please remember that ours is a professional relationship. You aren’t breaking me in or whatever it is you just said. It definitely sounded wholly inappropriate.

“I, however, must ask you more personal questions…Which, honestly, I am dreading,” she added sombrely.

Azriel stretched his very long legs under the table and crossed them at the ankles, before lacing his fingers on his stomach and smiling like an asshole at her.

“Come on then, pretty matchmaker. Bring it on! I won’t put the moves on you–unless you want me to–and I will behave,”

“Why am I doubting everything you just said?” she whispered with a heavy sight.

“Oh, don’t. Come on, ask away!”

“I preferred you when you were reluctant and a moody arsehole, like you were at our first meeting.”

“Oh, I am still that. Don’t worry. But I am making an effort here and want to make your life a bit easier.”

“How are you in bed, Mr. Night?” she blurted out. “Any specific preferences that a prospective match should know about? Dominant? Submissive? Rough? BDSM? Any fetishes? Any musts? Any hard limits? And how do you feel about fidelity?”

“Well, fuck me that’s a lot of questions! I think I will have that whiskey after all.”

They waited for his whiskey to be delivered and Azriel took a sip, smacking his lips with appreciation.

“You are a bad influence, Ms. Archeron,” he told her. “You make me want to live.”

She looked at him and his declaration with surprise.

“And you don’t live otherwise?”

“I dunno. With you, things seem…easier. Lighter? Like I don't have to worry about my form constantly, or think about the game, or training, or restrict myself. It’s nice, you know. It feels like there is more to the world, and to my life than what I am used to. I can have a drink, and have some pastries, and wear a suit…Not just trainers that sponsor me, or salads and leafy greens and lean protein.”

Elain smiled, “You sound like my sister Nesta. She is a dancer. She is very careful about what she eats,”

“Hence the tofu that makes Pinky sick.”

“Indeed.”

He resumed his position, with his hands on his stomach and then said,

“I am rough. As a lover.”

Elain stopped typing in her IPad and stared at him, clearly not expecting this nugget of info to drop on her lap.

“Rough?” she repeated at last. “As in…violent?”

He chuckled.

“Nah, I ain’t violent, pretty girl.”

“Mr. Night,” she snapped.

“Sorry, sorry. Ms. Archeron–where I come from, fucking is quick, hard, rough and unromantic. There ain’t no flickering candles, soft music, gauzy curtains,”

“I am impressed and a bit alarmed that you just used the word ‘gauzy’,” Elain commented.

“All, I’ve been hitting the dictionary every night. Picking up fancy words to impress you with!”

“You should be impressing your future matches,” she reminded him with a meaningful look, and he nodded in acquiescence.

“Yeah, I remember. The matches.”

“So, you are rough,” Elain repeated.

“Listen–on and off for a few years, I didn’t even have a place to sleep when I was a teen. Three months with one family, six weeks with another, four days with another…Stretches of time in between where Cass and me had to fend for ourselves. But you know…needs must and all. My dick was a teenage dick regardless of what my family situation was, so I had to get it where I could.”

Elain listened without commenting, her face expressionless. Azriel wasn’t sure if she was shocked, or repulsed, or judging him. That damn poker face of hers was on point.

“And where could I get it? Against the wall near the chippy, or on a park bench, or in a stairwell. That doesn’t bode well for lengthy sessions of tender lovemaking.

“So I go in pretty rough. I’ll make you come–a lady, I’ll make a lady come–but if she is looking for prim and proper that ain’t me.”

He scrubbed his hand over his face.

“I ain’t mean, Ms. Archeron. I am an athlete–I am controlled and powerful. Before I took up football, I used to box. There wasn’t much else to do where we lived, and because Cass and I were so big, we joined the local church’s boxing club. It taught me how to control my strength, my physicality, and my size. There ain’t ever been a need to be physically rough with the girl. Why? What’s she gonna do against me, you know?”

“Anything else?”

“All that other stuff you’d mentioned–BDSM, dom and sub–I don’t have any interest in that. I don’t particularly like inflicting pain, especially not on women. But if you’d like me to spank you or tie you up, I’ll tie you up. Whatever you fancy, Ms. Archeron.”

Elain blushed violently and adorably, as she scrambled to pretend to type something.

“So you do like to be spanked?” he grinned at her. He knew that she was fake typing right now.

She squirmed in her chair, and woke up Piglet, when she poked him with her foot. He snorted his disappointment and then emerged from under the table and immediately looked at Azriel with a pleading gaze.

“I saved you a sandwich,” Azriel chuckled, tearing a piece of the sandwich and feeding it to the pug. “Coronation chicken, no less.”

Piglet began chomping on the sandwich with delight, finding a kindred spirit in Azriel.

“I am still waiting for an answer, Ms. Archeron,” Azriel teased. “Spanking? Tying up? Are you a dom? Or do you like to submit? And before you tell me that this is not about you, I’d still like to know.”

“Well, this is not about me,” she hissed.

Azriel cocked his head to the side and looked at her with a humoured look in his eyes, asking,

“Are you a virgin?”

“For god’s sake, Mr. Night! Why are you asking me this?!” she demanded, scandalised.

“No shame in that,” he said lightly. “If you are, I mean. I am not judging.”

“Well, I am not, Mr. Night. I am a grown woman. And not a virgin. Are you the one who is going to be asking questions now?!”

“Yes, now I am kind of into it. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink!” she snapped.

“How about favourite food?”

“Sushi!”

“Cold raw fish–yum. But like I said before, no judgement.”

“Feels like judgement,”

“What else can I ask?”

“Nothing!”

“Do you find me handsome?”

“No!” she cried out.

“No? But I am a handsome footballer, what’s wrong with me?”

“Your gigantic ego.”

“Ego just corresponds to other parts of my anatomy,” he shrugged innocently.

“Oh lord. We are quite finished here, Mr. Night. I think we should get the bill.”

“I think I’d like another whiskey,” he argued.

“Well, you’ll be drinking it alone.”

“Naw…Pink is staying here with me. I am feeding him sandwiches and you know he ain’t going anywhere. Sit that pretty plump arse of yours down, Ms. Archeron. We’ll go soon enough.”

She pouted, but her traitorous dog was only proving Azriel correct, as he slurped his water and chewed on the sandwich that Azriel kept feeding him.

“My arse isn’t plump,” she muttered.

He glanced at her and smiled, “I’ll be the judge of that,” he decided. “Hope the ginger bloke appreciates your arse and worships it the way it deserves to be worshipped. It’s a hella nice coupla buns. Sorry and all…but I noticed,”

“No. More. Whiskey.” Elain ordered, wiping her brow. She was going to lose 10 kilos by the time all of this was going to be over. This man needed to be in some special institution.

“I know what kind of a wife I want!” he suddenly declared, rubbing his hands excitedly.

“Oh you do, do you? Please tell. I am…well, scared, but also intrigued.”

“I want the kind of girl who kisses me at red lights.”

“That’s actually…kind of romantic,” Elain agreed, surprised. He made no sense this man, but he definitely kept her on her toes.

“Yeah, kind of like she can’t even wait to give me a hot and sloppy one. So she waits until we are at a red light and goes for it.”

Meanwhile, Piglet finished his sandwich and ambled towards the massive wall of windows, looking out with great interest. Because he was wearing his Burberry jacket, and now stood in front of a window overlooking the Gherkin, the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge, charmed tourists and other guests began pointing at him and oohing and ahhing with delight, completely awed by the stylish pug.

“They gonna start taking photos of him.” Azriel whispered to Elain, and she smiled, nodding, while she quickly snapped a pic of her own.

“Going on his Insta?” he joked, while the waiter brought another whiskey. Azriel figured that he might not be leaving here any time soon. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in god knows how long.

“Obviously!” she tapped something quickly on her phone and in the next minute, showed it to him.

It was an amazing photo, considering that she barely even moved to take it–but Piglet looked like he was floating above the city, his expression pensive, his jacket on point, every landmark below him captured with crisp precision.

Enjoying London Town #puginthesky #whenpugsfly #puglyfe

“How do you even come up with these so quickly?” he shook his head, but then quickly requested, “send it to me. I want to have it. Also, it’s a gorgeous pic!”

“Thank you.”

Elain reached for her bag and then withdrew a folder, which she lay on the table, between the two of them.

“What’s that?”

“Mr. Night, I wanted to mention this before we go further.”

“Sounds ominous,” he huffed.

“Are you currently…sexually active?”

He cocked his brow at her and chuckled, “what a question, Ms. Archeron! Why? Are you interested?”

She ignored the suggestive quip and said, “It’s just that it would be preferential if you maintain a certain amount of abstinence while being matched. You can certainly decide to engage in sexual relations with the match when the two if you are ready, but I would ask you to treat it as you would a normal relationship…”

“I’ve never been in a relationship,” he sipped his whiskey. “So I am no expert. But I think I can manage it.”

“You truly haven’t been in a relationship?”

“No. Not really.”

“And yet you can abstain?” she confirmed.

“Matchmaker,” he sighed, “I am almost 30, I have some self-control. It’s been a while since I’ve lost control over pussy,”

“Mr. Night!”

“Sorry, sexual relations. Listen, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my youth. Nothing too terrible, but I should’ve done better. Now I am the Captain, and the younger lads look up at me. I want to do right by them, make sure that their careers don’t blow up, that they are careful with their money and the women that they are with. With us–you can get one injury, and it could be career ending. Everything you’ve been counting on, planning on, expecting, working for a decade towards–poof, gone! All because someone made a bad tackle, or you ran wrong, or a ligament snapped. And you are left with nothing, all the contracts and games and endorsements are gone just like that,” he snapped his fingers. “Everyone thinks they’ll be a Ronaldo, or a Messi, or a Zidane, but that’s untrue for most players.

“So now, I feel a sense of responsibility. Look at me–I am an old fucker,” he laughed. “But it’s true. So yeah, I can abstain. When we travel, I don’t party all that much. After dinner, I usually go back to the hotel and play Candy Crush. Or read dark romances.”

At that, Elain giggled, “you do not read dark romances!” she argued.

“Yeah I fuckin’ do!” he insisted.

“Such a liar!”

“Telling you,”

“Okay, so what are you reading currently?”

“Shantel Tessier’s ‘Carnage’,” he reported immediately.

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s super smutty,” was the verdict.

“You do not read Shantel Tessier!” Elain gawked at him adorably, completely taken aback.

“You’d be incorrect. Listen, I had an injury a couple of years ago and was in rehab for two months. I was bored out of my mind. The nurse who was taking care of me got me hooked up on dark romances. I fuckin’ love that shite!” he admitted excitedly. “You ladies write some bloody crazy shit. Never read anything like that written by a man!”

Azriel glanced in Pinky’s direction and smiled widely. The pug was legitimately posing for photos and creating a mini stampede around him. He was even giving over the shoulder looks, not to mention all sorts of side and front poses, knowing exactly what needed to be done to gain the most reaction.

“Hey mate, you can photograph him, but don’t touch him,” Azriel said protectively, when some guy wanted to pick the dog up. “He doesn’t like anyone but me and my girl touching him. He bites.”

Maybe the truth was stretched a bit, but whatever. It worked, because the bloke stepped back cautiously and didn’t attempt to touch the dog anymore.

‘I am not your girl,” Elain said quietly, crimping the napkin on her lap.

“No. But you could be. Nothing’s stopping you,” he said simply.

With that, Elain pushed the folder towards him and explained,

“Your first match”.

#elriel #elriel fanfic #my writing #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #A Match Baked In Heaven #new chapter #Acotar Fanfiction #Elriel fanfiction #elriel fic #acotar

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laresearchette · 1 year ago

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Sunday, October 08, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: 90 DAY FIANCÉ (TLC Canada) 8:00pm THE CIRCUS (Crave) 8:30pm LAST STOP LARRIMAH: MURDER DOWN UNDER (HBO Canada) 9:00pm 90 DAY FIANCÉ: PILLOW TALK (TLC Canada) 11:00pm THE TURNING POINT: MARTHA'S VINEYARD V. DESANTIS (MSNBC) 11:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT?: ICE AIRPORT ALASKA (TBD - Smithsonian Channel) THE VENICE MURDERS (TBD - Lifetime Canada) THE CAINE MUTINY COURT-MARTIAL (TBD)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA ARODON DIAMOND IN THE SKY LISTENING EARS SURVIVAL OF JELILI

CRAVE TV LAST STOP LARRIMAH

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN4) 9:30am: Jaguars vs. Bills (TSN/TSN4) 1:00pm: Giants vs. Dolphins (TSN/TSN4) 4:00pm: Eagles vs. Rams (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 8:20pm: Cowboys vs. 49ers

MEN’S RUGBY WORLD CUP (TSN2) 11:45am: Tonga vs. Romania

NBA BASKETBALL (SN Now) 1:00pm: Bulls vs. Bucks (SN1) 8:00pm: Kings vs. Raptors (SN Now) 8:00pm: Pacers vs. Grizzlies

WNBA BASKETBALL (SN1) 3:00pm: Liberty vs. Aces - Game #1

MLB BASEBALL (SN) 4:00pm: ALDS - Rangers vs. Orioles - Game #2 (SN) 3:00pm: ALDS - Twins vs. Astros - Game #2

HEARTLAND (CBC) 7:00pm: Amy and Jack retrain Edwin's horse for carriage racing, bringing Amy and Edwin closer; Logan takes on his first client horse; election night arrives for Lou just as the family faces a difficult loss…OH NO! SAVE YOURSELF HORSIE!

THE BIG BAKE (Food Network Canada) 7:00pm: Fun and games turn to frights as host Brad Smith challenges the baking teams to sew up a win with a dangerous doll cake that toys with judges Ron Ben-Israel, Eddie Jackson and Danni Rose.

THE GREAT CANADIAN BAKING SHOW (CBC) 8:00pm: It's Bread Week once again, and the nine remaining bakers knead to prove their bread-iness.

CRUELLA (CTV2) 8:00pm: Estella is a young and clever grifter who's determined to make a name for herself in the fashion world. However, when Estella befriends fashion legend Baroness von Hellman, she embraces her wicked side to become the raucous and revenge-bent Cruella.

BIG LIES IN A SMALL TOWN (Lifetime Canada) 8:00pm: Young mother Rachel frantically searches for her teen daughter, Hannah, after their car crashes outside a small town; people die mysteriously in Rachel's wake as she gets closer to finding out that the local doctor kidnapped her daughter.

SKYMED (CBC) 9:00pm: As the SkyMed crew wait for their fallen team member to wake up, Crystal starts to find her feet as a medical student, and a secret from the past threatens Nowak and Tristan's relationship.

BRYAN'S ALL IN (HGTV Canada) 9:00pm/10:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): City slickers turned country boys, Ryan and Taylor, need Bryan's help to transform their live-and-work farm into a show-stopping distillery and bar; they need to create a venue that stands apart from the competition. In Episode Two, new-generation farmers, Samantha and Paul, have big dreams for their rural business; they want to create a farm stand to sell their home-grown products, but also to give local artisans a place to sell their goods.

EUROPE’S HIDDEN WONDERS (Nat Geo Canada) 9:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): The filmmaker showcases the natural wonders of Germany, from the peaks of the Bavarian Alps to the coasts of the North and Baltic Seas.

WHEN CALLS THE HEART (Super Channel Heart and Home) 9:00pm: Lucas is the talk of Hope Valley; Elizabeth and the whole town rally around him, but everyone still worries it won't be enough to stop the governor.

CLEAN SWEEP (Super Channel Fuse) 9:00pm: The pressure builds on all fronts as Shelly is identified as the mysterious woman at the crime scene; she considers fleeing, but she would never leave her kids.

BELLE COLLECTIVE (OWN Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Latrice, Lateshia, Gucci and Tambra confront their relationship issues head on.

THE WINTER KING (Crave) 11:00pm: Arthur and the tribe kings enter peace talks; Arthur meets Guinevere, Ceinwyn's lady-in-waiting, while traveling.

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #heartland #the big bake #the great canadian baking show #skymed #bryan's all in #when calls the heart #clean sweep #the winter king #rugby world cup #nba basketball #wnba basketball #mlb baseball

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thesilliestrovingalive · 4 months ago

Text

Updated: January 1, 2025

Reworked Character #8: Clark Still

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death and human experimentation.

Real name: Clarkeston Vince Stillwater

Esper title: Avatar of Toxicity, Camouflage, Weight Negation, and Life Syphoning

Alias: Tepid Strength

Occupation: Lieutenant Colonel of the Ikari Warriors and a tactical spy for the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. (formerly)

Retirement plans: Live in a cabin near a lake abundant with fish and become a professional photographer

Special skills: Survival mastery in many kinds of rough terrain, proficiency in wrestling and grappling, gathering information for missions, sniping with lightweight firearms, and ichthyology

Esper abilities: His go-to esper ability is the Super Argentine Backbreaker, which allows him to effortlessly lift and hurl a vast array of targets into the air, including humans, Martians, Invader Drones, smaller mutants, zombies, mummies, Sasquatches, medium to large-sized tanks, and helicopters. With this ability, he can catch his opponent up to three times in rapid succession, slamming their back into their shoulders before driving them forcefully into the ground.

His skin contains four types of microscopic pigments: xanthophores, iridophores, melanophores, and leucophores. Unlike other animals, he possesses exceptional control over these specialised colour-changing pigments, enabling him to seamlessly blend into his surroundings. Additionally, he can render objects and people invisible for sixteen minutes by scratching or spitting on them.

He possesses an additional pair of lung-like organs situated on his upper back, between his spine, connected to a pouch located directly behind the pharynx and pointing towards the opening of his mouth. This pouch is sealed by two wrinkled skin flaps covered in mucousal hairs. It can be opened to release a purplish-green breath that contains a deadly poison, causing brain hemorrhaging and organ dysfunction. Clark is immune to the poison contained within his specialised lungs, but occasionally, he inadvertently inhales air into that specific organ. It triggers a cough due to the irritating sensations and causing him to release a small amount of his toxic breath.

Clark can open the small, closed holes located slightly below the centre of his palms, revealing a seven-petaled flower-like structure. From this, he can extend cartilage, spike-covered pipes with a metallic bronze sheen and a blunt, tri-holed tip from which flame-coloured veins are released. He uses the pipes to pierce the hearts or brains of individuals, utilising the emitted veins to syphon their life energy, thereby healing his wounds, revitalising his physical strength, and preventing his own demise.

Hobbies: Reading books on interesting subjects such as the biology of fish and the history of secret societies, collecting guns, playing casino games, photography, and fishing

Likes: Rugby, his sunglasses, reading gun catalogues, successful fishing expeditions (especially when he catches rare fish), and sharing a couple of drinks with Ralf

Dislikes: The awkward movement and gimmicky controls of the Slugs, being woken up by loud construction noises, people doing obviously stupid things, betrayal of trust, and arson

Favourite food: Oatmeal, tuna and onions pizza, and caramel and cheese popcorn

Sexuality: Heteroromantic asexual

Gender: Male

Age: 23 (in 2022), 29 (in 2028), 31 (in 2030), 33 (in 2032), 35 (in 2034), 42 (in 2041), 44 (in 2043), 45 (in 2044), and 48 (in 2047)

Blood type: A-

Weight: 231 lbs. (104 kg)

Design: He’s a 6’ 3” (190.5 cm) Canadian mesomorph with an inhumanly imposing build, robust musculature, and semi-sloping shoulders. He features light grey eyes flecked with magenta, warm beige skin, and a hairstyle reminiscent of Clark's dialogue portrait from KOF XIII, but with distinct differences: his locks are now rose gold with subtle curls, having previously been honey blonde before undergoing experimentation. His back is a dark green adorned with light yellow spots, while his belly boasts a creamy white hue, subtly outlined with a pale red.

A large patch of burned flesh extends from his left cheek, across his deltoid and shoulder, to the back of his trapezius. He bears a series of small scattered cut marks and a few stab wounds on his arms and torso. Additionally, he has two gunshot wounds, one located above his right kidney and the other near the left side of his navel. He has a long jagged scar on his right cheek, running from the underside of his ear to the centre of his upper lip. The skin on his arms and legs is a charred bluish-black and a few violet-threaded switches crisscrossing the centres of his forearms and thighs. His limbs can be a tad stiff at times, so he often asks Fio to give his limbs a well-kneaded massage.

Clark’s military gear consists of a light cyan tank top, a Bondi blue headband around his neck, and purplish-black elbow and knee pads. He always wears a cobalt blue cap with an embroidered Canada jay with outstretched wings, holding an olive branch in its talons. He wears purple-tinted sunglasses to hide a scar on his glabella, caused by Ralf's careless handling of his combat knife. He wears a cobalt blue waterproof vest adorned with the Ikari Warriors logo on the back and lined with grey fox fur. A white magnolia flower is pinned on the left side, just above his deltoid muscle.

He wears a fallow brown wristband with black spikes on his right hand and a blue-green glove with a black-trimmed silver-grey palm padding. He has cargo pants with an army green, brown, and silver-grey camouflage pattern, tucked into his Persian indigo jungle boots. Clark wears a fallow brown belt with six black pouches for bullets and a holster for his M1911 pistol. A Japanese violet waist pack, secured to the back of his belt, contains bandages, a small package of cotton swabs, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and four rechargeable batteries for his camera. He wears two black drop leg holsters, similar to Clark's in The King of Fighters XV, but they hold his combat knife on the right and an electrical baton on the left.

Over his tank top, he wears a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, carrying his walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. He wears two dark brown bandoliers, crossed in an X-shape, with the left one holding throwing knives and the right one holding ammunition for his handgun. Clark carries a fallow brown load-bearing backpack containing camping equipment, tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, a Black Aces Peacekeeper, a Minebea PM-9, a Benelli Supernova, a Mauser SP66, and a bluish-black digital camera. He also carries a comprehensive fishing kit, complete with various baits and lures, hooks, a rod, floats, monofilament lines, braided lines, fluorocarbon lines, and spincast, baitcasting, spinning, and fly reels. Additionally, he treasures a photo album filled with pictures he's taken from his teenage years to the present, holding it dear as a cherished keepsake.

He wears a pair of small silver hoop earrings and conceals a portable, jagged piece of Sol Dae Rokker's red gem in the left pocket of his cargo pants. The red gem appears to be powerless except when reacting to the presence of individuals with malicious intent or those who pose a potential threat.

Thanks to Tarma, he owns a key to access his periwinkle-coloured Velocette MAC motorcycle, which has dark cyan outlining.

Super Devil form: He’s a 16 ft (487.68 cm) animalistic entity with a slender build, disproportionately muscular arms, and a body encased in iridescent blue-grey scales. Clark boasts a feline head with the left side of his face gruesomely rotted, distinguished by rose gold fur, a silver-grey snout, and fallow brown eye patches. It has majestic Persian indigo elk antlers, elegantly adorned with white magnolia flowers and delicate patches of hanging moss. The head features two jutting fangs and luminous magenta eyes, accented with blue-green pupils. He boasts a majestic mane of fluffy light grey clouds and razor-sharp black claws that seem to be forged from a resilient, crystalline material. He wraps himself in a shawl of rippling bluish mist, surrounded by a light scattering of purple leaves that flutter around him, circling his head like a halo.

His fingers are adorned with light cyan webbing, while his back features six prominent vertical cobalt blue streaks. He possesses four majestic 17 ft (518.16 cm) Canada jay wings and an additional pair of arms situated on his inguinal regions. Clark’s lower half is that of a grey fox, featuring silver claws and twelve symmetrically arranged purplish-black eyes along both sides of its back, extending to the base of its tail. His tail, resembling that of a northern pike, boasts light yellow spots and pale red fins, but it's painfully entwined with a Bondi blue vine. The grey fox body's hind legs are replaced by fleshy, charred tree roots that twitch spasmodically and subtly ripple.

Character summary: He's a wise, self-disciplined, and self-reliant pescatarian with a stoic demeanour, rarely showing emotion and possessing a taciturn personality. He’s a hard-boiled and introspective individual who meticulously gathers and analyzes data, never overlooking crucial information. Initially shy and reserved around strangers, he gradually opens up and becomes more talkative and less aloof once he gets to know them. He exudes an unsettling calmness, intensely focused on his professional duties and the safety of others. While watchful and serious, he's not above showing a more playful side, engaging in witty banter and dark, dry humour.

Clark often uses sarcasm to tease Ralf about his stubbornness and rowdiness, yet he deeply cherishes him as both his closest ally and surrogate brother. He genuinely worries about Ralf's well-being and will go to great lengths to ensure his happiness, offering comfort and support during difficult times. He frequently enjoys joking around with Ralf, while also keeping a watchful eye to prevent his friend from getting into trouble or engaging in destructive behaviours. In his opinion, fighting is merely a game to Ralf, and he doesn't hesitate to sternly reprimand Ralf and physically intervene when his behavior becomes excessive.

He’s fiercely loyal to Ralf, Heidern, Leona, and his comrades and friends, and will only consider betraying those close to him if presented with compelling reasons. He sympathises with Tequila, feeling that he unfairly bears the brunt of Gimlet's issues and is disappointed that Gimlet has forgotten many of the lessons he once learned from him. He serves as a father figure to Rumi, cherishing her company, particularly after a gruelling mission, and harbours concerns about her safety whenever she's deployed to the battlefield. He empathises with her struggles to overcome the trauma of losing her two closest friends, Chris and Alexander, and provides comfort during her darkest moments.

He adores his pets, Sparky, a rambunctious and playful young charcoal Bengal cat, and Mr. Kibleton, a grumpy but affectionate older Exotic Shorthair cat. He’s devoted to giving them a happy and fulfilling life, providing attentive care and showering them with love and affection. Sparky boasts green eyes, distinctive white "goggle" markings, and black rosettes, while Mr. Kibleton has blue-green eyes and chocolate smoke fur. Unlike Marco, who refrained from giving Perifa a collar due to her neck sensitivity, Clark opted to give his two cats collars as a precautionary measure. Sparky sports a chrome orange collar, while Mr. Kibleton wears a cobalt blue one. Both collars feature a circular silver tag, etched with their respective names on the front and Clark's birth name on the back.

He has an incredibly close relationship with Leona, whom he views as the little sister he never had. He understands her struggles with forming social connections and respects her capabilities as a skilled fighter. He also holds her fearsome reputation in high esteem and values their mission partnerships, particularly when joined by Ralf and Fio.

He maintains a warm rapport with Fio, appreciating her serene demeanour and exceptional culinary skills. Moreover, he actively supports her growth as a fighter, recognizing her aspirations to emulate the excellence of seasoned veterans Marco, Tarma, and Eri—a gesture Fio deeply appreciates. He regards Tequila as a wise, fatherly figure who inspires him, not just as a skilled covert agent and soldier, but also as someone who faces realistic struggles. He's genuinely surprised that Tequila hasn't retired yet, but understands that the Regular Army wouldn't readily let go of an esper with extensive military expertise.

He holds suspicions about the Regular Army's true activities behind the scenes. Certain things strike him as odd, such as special operatives being required to shoot innocent journalists on sight when they probe for classified information. He's also noticed that most people he's met, like Tarma and Alisa, seem brainwashed, displaying unwavering loyalty to the Regular Army and obliviousness to potential corruption. However, he keeps these thoughts private, having heard rumours that Regular Army whistleblowers face deadly consequences. Fearing for his safety, he prefers not to share his concerns with others.

Notably, aside from Ralf, he shows unexpected support and empathy towards those he genuinely cares about, offering a helping hand when they need it most. Clark is kind-hearted but brutally honest, harbouring a strong disdain for dishonesty, exploitation, and showboating. He has a low tolerance for liars, cheaters, and those who try to take advantage of him or his loved ones. With a keen eye for deceit, he isn't afraid to confront and expose wrongdoers, often calling them out in a blunt and uncompromising manner. He demonstrates significant respect for war veterans, elders, individuals he personally values as being heroic and level-headed, and authority figures who uphold moral justice.

He personally believes that everyone has the capacity to act in accordance with their own moral compass and make decisions based on their unique needs and values. Furthermore, he holds that every individual has an inherent and inalienable right to freedom and personal autonomy, and that suppressing this right is a violation of basic human dignity. It takes a lot for him to get angry, and when it happens, he appears menacing and difficult to approach. Clark gets easily annoyed when people do something he considers stupid or utterly absurd. He has a strong aversion to obstinate stubbornness and betrayal of trust, finding them frustrating and inconsiderate. The M1911 pistol is his favourite design due to its practicality. He prefers firearms with functional designs over those with flashy, heroic aesthetics.

He's a light sleeper, prone to occasional sleep-talking and plagued by vivid nightmares that linger into the next day, haunting memories of the experiments he endured and the tragic loss of his parents and comrades. He has a melancholic and cynical side, and in the heat of battle, he sometimes trusts his instincts over strategic planning. Like Ralf, he enjoys diving headfirst into combat, using everything at his disposal, revealing his occasional impulsiveness and craving for adrenaline. He wouldn't hesitate to fiercely confront and verbally or physically shred anyone who tries to harm a child or one of his friends and comrades. He has some trauma that he's slowly coming to terms with, and a deep-seated fear of medical needles and laboratories, which causes him to panic when in their presence.

Backstory: Clarkeston Vince Stillwater was born on May 7, 1999 in Twillingate, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada. He was born into a loving family that deeply valued the great outdoors, individual freedom, and their diverse expertise. His father, Kenrick Stillwater (commonly referred to as Kent), was a fisherman and a well-respected private detective, and his mother was a successful commercial photographer. He spent countless hours on fishing trips with his dad, Kent, who taught him the ins and outs of fishing, including which hooks and baits to use for each species. Kent also ignited his fascination with the criminal justice system and the complex psychology of criminals. Meanwhile, his mother nurtured his creative side, gifting him a digital camera and photo album on his sixth birthday. She guided him in taking professional-quality photographs, developing Polaroids, and exploring various photography genres.

At the age of 8, he tried out rugby and discovered a passion for the sport, although he only plays when he feels like it. He showed a natural talent for rugby, particularly when playing fullback during pickup games with friends in Crow Head at Sea Breeze Park. By the time he turned 11, he began regularly visiting a new library that had been built near his community two years earlier. He cherished the library's vast collection of intriguing books and the peaceful atmosphere, where patrons were genuinely quiet and respectful. His reading interests spanned various subjects, including criminology, military history, and the occult. He also enjoyed reading about secret societies, undercover operations, philosophical explorations of freedom, and ichthyology.

Before turning 12, he started experiencing symptoms such as persistent fatigue, chest pain, dizziness, recurring headaches, shortness of breath, and pulsatile tinnitus. As his condition worsened, he was forced to discontinue playing rugby altogether. This prompted concern from his parents, who quickly arranged a doctor's visit. Following a medical evaluation, he and his parents learned that he had been diagnosed with anemia, a blood disorder that runs in his father's family. The news disheartened him, but his parents did everything they could to keep him healthy, ensuring he received the best care for his condition. They encouraged him to continue pursuing his hobbies, focusing on those that were less physically taxing, such as reading and photography.

Despite his health complications, his life had been running smoothly, and he was doing alright in school, but this stability was short-lived. Just four months after his 14th birthday party, disaster struck. While he was asleep, his family home was engulfed in flames, set deliberately by unknown assailants seeking revenge against his father's refusal to comply with local criminal demands regarding fishing quotas. As the fire alarm blared, Clark caught a whiff of smoke and sprang out of bed, panic setting in as he heard the faint sound of firefighting sirens in the distance. In that harrowing moment, with smoke filling his lungs and fear gripping his heart, he experienced a sudden surge of energy coursing through his body.

Clark quickly ran out of his bedroom with his digital camera and photo album, desperately searching for his parents. But what he found was his mother, burning alive. As he stumbled out, he saw Kent's lifeless body lying near the front porch, his throat slit and his face brutally stabbed multiple times. He broke down in tears, consumed by grief, cradling his father’s body in his arms. When the firefighters and police arrived, they were met with the devastating scene. One kind-hearted officer took Clark in, providing temporary shelter. Unbeknownst to him, the officer had also contacted the Regular Army. The next day, the Regular Army adopted him, providing shelter, food, clothes, and a new sense of purpose.

A few days after the incident, he received a revelation dream that unveiled his esper title and the key to unlocking his Super Devil form and harnessing his newfound abilities. However, the dream's cryptic nature left him struggling to fully grasp its meaning, hindering his ability to effectively wield his esper powers. Furthermore, he was physically weak due to his anemia, which made his esper training even more challenging and arduous. The Regular Army higher-ups took notice of his struggles and ordered the Amadeus Syndicate scientists to conduct experiments on him, aiming to enhance his abilities and overcome his limitations.

He doesn't recall much of this period in his life because he was constantly kept in a drowsy state. However, he recalls being injected with mysterious drugs that altered and reconstructed his muscles and brain chemistry, miraculously curing his anemia in the process. The experiments were agonising and left lasting scars, including charred bluish-black skin and stitches on his limbs. This incident would also cause him to have terrifying hallucinations, such as seeing blood pouring down the walls and hearing whispering voices that sang incoherent lullabies. It left him with a deep-seated fear of needles and laboratories as well as a profound mistrust of the Amadeus Syndicate. He discovered a new passion for wrestling and grappling, and began training in these disciplines to cope with the traumatising experiments, while also building his physical strength and self-defence skills.

During his basic training to become a peacekeeping scout for the Regular Army, he learned valuable lessons in discipline and camaraderie. However, he struggled to come to terms with intense feelings of abandonment and anger stemming from his parents' deaths. Tequila, noticing Clark's aloofness and difficulty connecting with others due to his timidity and unresolved trauma, approached him with kindness. He invited him to a trip to Yr Wyddfa in the Snowdonia region of North Wales, which Clark quietly accepted. The trip proved to be a turning point, as Tequila shared wise words on coping with his emotions and managing his past. From that day forward, Tequila became Clark's mentor, offering guidance and invaluable insights into the ways of a Regular Army soldier and Intelligence Agency agent.

After completing his training and successfully executing several missions as a tactical spy for the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. of the Intelligence Agency, Clark discovered a thriving mercenary group, the Ikari Warriors, was gaining popularity. He then attempted to resign from his position in the Regular Army, but initially faced resistance. However, following repeated requests, his superiors eventually accepted his resignation, recognizing that his unique expertise could be valuable in supporting the Ikari Warriors' missions by gathering crucial intelligence. He joined the Ikari Warriors after demonstrating his skills as a spy and esper by chasing down a disguised terrorist who had infiltrated the biennial tournament. He expressed his commitment to preserving global peace, earning his place among the team.

Upon joining, he befriended Leland and Eikichi, who were fascinated by his esper status and drawn to his kind and mellow demeanour. He also befriended Byron, bonding over their shared love of fishing. Clark’s heroics in single-handedly saving General Kawasaki's and 2nd Lieutenant Cook's mercenaries from a surprise counterattack by a powerful Mafia organisation earned him their respect. The news that the Ikari Warriors had recruited another esper caught his attention, but he was hesitant to approach Ralf. Later, they quickly became close friends after collaborating on a mission to take down a corrupt politician in Cambodia.

He frequently partnered with Ralf on numerous missions for the Ikari Warriors, including rescuing Elise, the U.S. President's daughter, from a criminal organisation and dismantling the Serapion Fellowship that was harming Latin America. He can recall a moment in Colombia where a Chocoan toadhead viper was preparing to bite Ralf from behind, but he effortlessly crushed it before it could strike. For his heroism in saving the President's daughter, he received a Medal of Honor, but he prefers to keep it private, as he dislikes drawing attention to himself. His unwavering loyalty and impressive successes as a fighter and spy earned him a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel.

He received the scar on the bridge of his nose when he attempted to rescue Ralf from a booby trap in the jungle during their battle against the Serapion Fellowship. There's a rumour that he once stepped on a very slimy slug during the rescue of a young Leona, who had fallen while climbing a tree in the jungle. Allegedly, he slipped on it and fell into a puddle of dirty water. Ralf often teases him about the incident, claiming it really happened. However, he has never confirmed the rumour because it causes him to blush with immense embarrassment.

However, he and Ralf suffered a series of devastating losses, including the deaths of General Kawasaki, 2nd Lieutenant Cook, Eikichi, Leland, and Byron in separate incidents, each of which was difficult to bear. During General Kawasaki's funeral, he remembered Tequila's words that the white magnolia symbolises deep, unspoken trust. He incorporated the flower into his attire as a reminder of his loyalty to those he cares about, both living and deceased.

According to popular belief, following Ralf's pivotal role in preventing a Rebel Army takeover of the United States, Clark played a key part in collaborating with Leona and Heidern to draw the Regular Army's attention and persuade them to establish a mercenary branch, ultimately forming an alliance with the Ikari Warriors. However, this remains unconfirmed by him, Leona, Heidern, and other members of the Ikari Warriors. Following Ralf’s major victory against the Rebel Army, Clark comforted his best friend, who was struggling with guilt over accidentally killing many civilians on the Keesi II. Clark reassured Ralf that it wasn't his fault and he did everything he could, acknowledging that the sacrifice was unfair and beyond his control.

After the Extraterrestrial Alliance Clash, Clark was slated to embark on a mission with Alisa Stewart to thwart a new uprising and prevent the Pipovulaj and their allies from activating a weapon potentially built by the Tuatha Dé Danann. However, Alisa politely declined his assistance, believing he had more important tasks to attend to, which didn't seem to bother him at all. Despite missing the opportunity to collaborate with someone outside of the Ikari Warriors, he respected her decision and wished her good luck on her mission.

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