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nikethestatue · 4 months

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A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter X

Howlin’ For You

Today

Breasts.

Boobs.

Mammary Glands.

Jugs.

Boobies.

Tits.

Fiery Biscuits.

Melons.

Baps.

Milkers.

Tatas.

Snuggle Pups.

The ‘girls’

Whatever one called them, here they were. Staring Azriel Night in the face. He could’ve thought of a few more names for them: ‘naughty pillows’, ‘honkers’, ‘knockers’, ‘the rack’...and on and on and on.

This pair was nice as fuck. He couldn’t deny it.

The generously bosom-y blonde across from him was a beauty named Mor. And this Mor was a stunner. Big brown eyes, hair like molten gold, tits for days, childbearing hips, a nipped waist.

He’d arrived early, yet she was already here, at a posh, faceless bar in the City. She wanted to go somewhere flashier, but Azriel didn’t want any more of his photos splashed across Daily Mail under the headline ‘Another One for Footie’s Bad Boy?’ so he chose this spot. It was filled with nervous and overly intense finance blokes, with an uneven ratio of 78% dicks to 22% pussy in attendance. If he didn’t know better he’d think this was a gay bar, but it wasn’t. It was a bar where ‘deals were made’ and no one paid attention to him. He was wearing a suit and easily passed for another manic finance bloke.

Mor was on her third drink already, but she was holding her alcohol well, though Azriel suspected that might have a problem somewhere there. Currently he wasn’t training or playing due to his injury, but he still stuck with sparkling water as was his habit. Those big bazoongas shifted beneath her bright red dress and even a blind man would’ve felt the earth shift when she moved, but Azriel remained…uninterested.

Yes, in theory, she was tempting and attractive in every way. If this was three months ago, he probably would’ve been pounding her on the way back from the bar, giving Dev an eyeful. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

Alas, currently, not only did he not care about her tits whatsoever, he also kept thinking about the cool 20 Day Advent Calendar that he bought for Pinky, where there was a special treat behind every little daily slat. He was unhealthily excited about this Advent Calendar and kept imagining how excited Pink would be about it, and how he and Elain would open it daily to reveal treat-of-the-day.

No tits were as desirable as the happiness of his dog. Besides, the only tits that were interesting to him, the only tits he wanted to touch and squeeze, the only tits he wanted to lick and bite, were Elain’s. Soft, ample, squishy titties–the only tits worth his time and attention. Whatever Mor was laying down, he sure as hell wasn’t picking up. The only reason he was here anyway, was because his ornery girlfriend demanded it and he was humouring her. A little bar talk with this loud woman was a small price to pay for having Elain in his arms through the night, making her accept him, slowly, but surely fall for him, submit…Yeah, it was worth it, even if he didn’t want to be here.

Five Days Ago

“You aren’t even that ill!” Elain protested.

Azriel offered a loud and very fake cough to demonstrate that he was indeed quite ill.

“I beg to differ,” he argued. “Are you really going to send a star athlete all the way to Canary Wharf, in the beginning of December? While he is half-dead from fever and has a broken leg?”

“Oh, now the leg is broken too?” Elain crossed her arms on her chest, shaking her head, looking at him. The good thing was that Pinky decided to take Azriel’s side, and now he sat by his side, working hard at giving Elain the biggest puppy dog eyes in history.

“You two are emotional vampires!” she declared, getting up from the table.

“We are emotional puppies!” Azriel argued.

“You are a traitor,” Elain hissed at Piglet, who whimpered pathetically.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” Azriel offered sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes and told him firmly, “you aren’t sleeping with me”.

“Umm,”

“No, don’t even think about it.”

“Where am I sleeping then?”

“In the guest room,” she said primly,

“Aren’t you planning to sleep with your husband in the same bed?” he queried.

“Yes. But you aren’t my husband.”

“But I will be,” he reminded her.

“Dream on, football boy,” she puffed her cheeks, while Azriel gathered the plates and hobbled with them to the sink. And then, he proceeded to wash the dishes like a good boy. It was silly, because obviously she had a dishwasher, but Azriel wanted to show how he would be a great husband-material, and how much potential he had in that department.

Elain didn’t say anything, but quietly began putting things away after dinner. Pinky was laying there like a log, watching them closely, monitoring every move.

Azriel was almost done with the washing up, when he stepped aside and suddenly pulled Elain to him, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Her breath quickened, but she didn't struggle in his hold. He pressed her into the counter and held her within the cage of his arms.

Elain smelled delightful. A heady mix of jasmine, with light undertones of warm honey and vanilla. Her scent was exactly what she was in life–a flower-lover and a baker. It was a perfect mix of who she was.

Azriel inhaled her deeply and felt her shiver against him. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, savouring the moment. It was quiet, other than some instrumental Christmas music playing on Elain’s phone. So it made sense when Elain’s arms tentatively wrapped around Azriel’s waist and she pulled him a little closer.

“Why are you like that, my matchy?” he whispered.

“How am I?”

“Skittish. Afraid. You shouldn’t be afraid of me. I would never hurt you.”

She sighed sadly and whispered, “Others have said the same, and did, in fact, hurt me.”

“I am not ‘others’. I am it. I knew that I was fucked once I started wondering what your lips would taste like, and I am still wondering about that. I’ve been many different things in my life, and not all of them any good, but with you, it’s different.

“You smell like home. You feel like a wife. You act like the mother of my children. There is nothing I can do about that.”

“You fell hard,” she murmured.

“Surprised me too,” he chuckled, “but here we are.”

She took his hand in hers and looked at his scarred skin, absently rubbing the mangled flesh with her thumb. At that, it was Azriel’s turn to squirm a bit. He didn’t like close attention being paid to his hands.

But, all she did was whisper ‘beautiful’ and Azriel didn’t know what to do with that. So he blushed. Because it wasn’t something he expected, and coming from her, he knew that it was the truth. She found his hands beautiful.

She then took him by the hand and gently pulled him behind her, sneaking from under his arm.

“Gonna put me to bed, beautiful?” he chuckled.

“Don’t push it,” she warned playfully.

They went upstairs, Azriel being on his best behaviour, careful not to spook her and have her send him back down to sleep on the couch.

Elain’s upstairs wasn’t any less luxurious and stylish than the downstairs. The landing had built-in bookshelves and a loveseat and apparently Pinky’s own swanky pad, with a vast doggy bed and various cushions upon which he could ‘relax’ (not that his life was very hard and required much relaxation). In addition, part of the built-ins contained all his outfits, his toys, and bows. He had more clothes than Kim K.

“You are here,” Elain opened the door to one of the bedrooms. It was modern, comfortable, like a world-class hotel room. But impersonal.

“There is an en-suite,” Elain waved her hand to another door.

“And where are you?” Azriel asked immediately.

She gave him a look, but said “at the end of the hall. Should you require anything, knock and let me know.”

Then, after a beat, she added, “And since you sleep in the nude, please don’t forget to cover yourself.”

Azriel smirked and gently cupped the side of her neck, drawing his thumb over the tender skin of her throat.

“So you remembered then?”

Primly, as if they were discussing cottage cheese, she said, “it’s my job. I pride myself in remembering what my clients tell me.”

“Ahhh,” he nodded slowly, with a knowing look on his face. “And for no other reason I am sure, yeah?”

“Exactly.”

“Alright then, Ms. Archeron,” he pressed his lips to her forehead and gave her a soft, loving kiss, “good night. And if I do need anything, I will remember to cover my massive cock,”

“Ahh,” she gasped and he laughed, giving her another quick kiss.

She pushed at him, pretending to be oh-so scandalised, but there was no fire in her protests.

“Stop kissing me!”

“That’s a hard no from me,” he shrugged. “I only intend to kiss you more.”

“Why are you like this?”

“What? Charming? Sexy? Smart?”

“Yeah, all of the above,” she snorted. “Don’t you ever take ‘no’ for an answer?”

“Not really,” he confessed. “Definitely not this time around.”

“Why not?” she asked quietly, looking straight at him.

He licked his lip and then stated simply,

“Because you are mine.”

Today

“Three million.”

Azriel was so lost in thought, especially recalling how that night five days ago went, that he didn’t catch anything that Mor was saying to him. Not until he heard ‘three million’.

“Pardon?” he finally asked.

“I think that’s a reasonable sum,” she decided, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

“For what?”

“Us!”

“Us? Us what?” his brow furrowed and he had no idea what she was referring to.

“That’s the exchange,” she pushed, leaning across the table towards him, and letting her boobs slide forward, the material of her dress barely containing them. Gosh, she was trying hard.

“Miss Hewn, lay it all out,” he all but snapped at her. “What do you want?”

“It’s what you want,” she corrected him and brought her martini glass to her bright red lips. An espresso martini, no less. What a revolting 80s drink that no self-respecting person would ever touch. But Azriel chose to keep his opinion to himself. Mor wasn’t Elain. He could tease Elain. She’d answer, she’d taunt him back. It would be wonderful. But he didn’t need to worry about Elain–she was a whiskey and lager and gin girl. Proper drinks. Classic. None of this frou-frou nonsense. He had no opinion on Mor because he didn’t give a shit.

“What am I exchanging for three mil?” he queried, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning back in his chair.

She mimicked his posture, and said in a firm, bland tone,

“A little birdy told me that if you don’t marry by the time you are thirty, you lose your chance at your inheritance…and I hear it’s over 200 mil. Lord Darling is worth what? About two billion? 10% of his wealth goes to his two adopted sons–you and your brother Cassian. Am I not correct?”

“You are alarmingly well-informed about Lord Darling’s finances,”

She shrugged and said with false innocence in her voice, “all public knowledge, Azriel. And I am a girl who does her research.”

Another one.

Another girl who was doing her due diligence. But unlike Elain, whose intentions were honourable and even a little naive, Mor seemed much more predatory. Her big eyes gleamed with excitement.

“So, if I am understanding you correctly,” Azriel sipped his sparkling water, wondering how long he had to stay here for, “you want me to pay you three million pounds,”

“Correct,” she nodded.

“For what exactly?”

“To marry you, of course, silly!” she smiled at him and winked.

“Oh…”

“Two years? Three?” she shrugged irreverently and finished her gross martini, while immediately motioning to the waiter for another drink.

The balls on her were…impressive.

If Azriel wasn’t so internally disgusted, he would’ve been awed.

But he was mostly grossed out.

“We marry, we stay together for a couple of years,” Mor continued easily. “I get my three million. You get your 200 million and then we part amicably. What do Americans call it? Irreconcilable differences. We wouldn’t be able to reconcile our differences too. I’ll even sign a prenup, and won’t ask for any spousal support or any bit of your money,”

“Generous of you,” he said dryly. “So this has been the plan from the beginning, I am guessing?

She shrugged innocently.

“I go where the money is.”

“Let me guess,” he interrupted. “You know all about how much I make too?”

Her red-tipped fingers gently caressed his hand, but in a condescending sort of way, like she was taming a wild animal.

“Of course I do, darling,” she smiled at him. “Of course, I do. 115 million contract with Arsenal over 5 years. Multiple multi-million pound endorsement contracts with big name companies–Adidas, Apple, Bank of England come to mind. Oh, Smart Water. Oh, oh,” she snapped her fingers, “a deal with that shaving company…You looked good in those adverts. All damp and half-naked, water dripping off of you,”

Azriel barely managed not to roll his eyes.

“How did you get through Elain’s rigorous screening?” he interrupted her litany, speaking frankly and not giving a fuck. He was past being Mr. Nice Guy or even Mr. Pretend to Be a Nice Guy for the Evening. He was going to be the dickhead that he usually was.

Mor laughed lightly and accepted another weird concoction from the waiter–a Lemon Drop, apparently. What was with this woman and her 80s drinks? They weren’t even classics. Just gaudy.

“Ohhh,” Mor did a sing-song thing with her voice. “Elain…Lady Elain Archeron, the 7th Marchioness of Londonfair, sister to Nesta, the Duchess of Velaris and to Countess Feyre Archeron.

“See, Azriel, I do my research on everyone. Did you know that the Duke of Velaris petitioned Queen Victoria some time around 1894 to have all the females in his family receive titles. Just the females, the same way the males would. And the titles are passed on to women in that family. Interestingly, the old Queen wasn’t exactly a feminist. In fact, she was sternly opposed to feminism and felt that women should obey and serve their men. Wonder what the Duke had to do to convince her? But whatever he did, apparently worked.

“The sisters’ mother was the Duchess of Velaris. Nesta was the Marchioness. Elain, a Countess. Feyre, a Viscountess. Once the mother died, the titles shifted to each respective sister. Interesting, isn’t it?

“You know how much they are worth?”

“No,” Azriel snapped. “I don’t, and I don’t care.”

“Pity. It is curious that Lady Elain has this strange profession. Very odd, don’t you think? A matchmaker.”

“She wants to bring happiness to others,” he said. “Love.”

Mor scoffed,

“Love. Yes, love. It’s adorable that you bought into her fantasy.”

“Her track record is impeccable,” he argued roughly.

“Oh,” Mor waved her hand, “I am not arguing, I know she is good at what she does. Poor lonely souls flock to her in hopes for their happily ever after.”

“And you didn’t?” he challenged. Dark, angry, cold rage was rising up in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. His own personal feelings aside, Elain was good. She believed in what she did. She was kind and thoughtful and careful with the feelings of others. She did want people to find their partners, and their happily ever after. Of that, he had no doubt. Therefore, anyone taking advantage of her sincerity and her beliefs made him see red.

“I did flock too,” Mor confirmed, almost chugging her Lemon Drop in one go and motioning for the waiter yet again. Jesus fuck. “Just not for love,” she continued. “It wasn’t exactly difficult to build up a story that Elain wanted to hear. My very unsuccessful first engagement, then a string of men who didn’t turn into anything serious, disappointments and my ‘yearning for love’,” she made air quotes. “The poor silly cow fell for it just like that,” she snapped her fingers.

At that, Azriel flinched, but Mor didn’t notice it. Instead, she ordered ‘Sex On the Beach’ and he almost died of embarrassment. When the kids on the team told him that they ‘died of cringe’ he now understood what they meant.

“If you know where to look, you’d find out that Lady Elain abruptly ended her engagement to Lord Nolan a few years back. I figured that he stepped out on her, and it turns out that I was correct. So I played that up to her, telling her that my fiance did the same. She was so easy,” Mor sighed dramatically. “I mean, what was I expecting? This is a woman who dotes on her lame legless pug and,”

“Pardon,” Azriel stood up abruptly and muttered, “I need to go to the loo,”

“Oh, alright then,” Mor nodded. “When you come back, we’ll discuss the details of the arrangement.”

Apparently, in her mind, everything’s been settled already.

Azriel left his jacket hanging on the back of his chair, but he figured it would be a small price to pay to escape. He veered off the path to the toilets and passed by the long, glass-covered bar, where he spotted Dev, who was sipping mineral water. Azriel motioned his head to the driver, and Dev got up promptly, his expression perplexed. His eyes darted from Azriel to Mor’s golden-haired head which loomed over the table.

Azriel came over and grabbed his driver’s arm, quickly ushering him towards the exit.

“Are you doing a runner?” Dev guessed, grinning at the panicked looking Azriel.

“Sure am!”

“Wait, so you pumped and dumped,”

“No pumping,” Azriel quickly, shuddering visibly, “only dumping.”

“You really gonna ghost her like that?”

“Honestly, it’s not my proudest moment, but I am afraid she is going to charge me for leaving. A tenner at least.”

Dev chuckled, and nodded towards Azriel’s lack of jacket,

“You’ll freeze your bollocks off,”

“Small price to pay to escape Miss Golden Arm over there. She really started the conversation with ‘you pay me three million and then I will marry you’.”

“Shit. For real?”

“Sure am. She is a thirsty one. Not for cock, but for a buck.”

Dev laughed and said, “Alright then, mate, let’s go. I’ll save you.”

Azriel tossed two hundred pounds to the barman and said, “For the lady’s drinks,” he pointed towards Mor. “And make sure she doesn’t drive. She’s had one, or ten, too many.”

By the time he slipped out of the bar, took the lift downstairs and came outside, to the frigid night, Dev was pulling the car around the corner.

Azriel all but collapsed into the warm cabin and rubbed his hands.

“Told you you’ll freeze,” Dev told him.

“What did you want me to do exactly?”

“Never seen you walk away like that from a woman before,” Dev commented, while he pulled away from the curb.

“Ehhh,” Azriel looked out the window, watching the sleek streets decorated for Christmas. “I wasn’t into it.”

“Uh-uh,” Dev only muttered, with a knowing look on his face. “Where to then? Canary Wharf or Russell Square?”

Azriel shot him a glance in the mirror, and Dev continued lightly, “I wasn’t planning on being done with the evening by,” he glanced at the clock, “7:08 pm. But here we are. So, where are we going? Home? Or where you wanna be?”

“What do you mean?” Azriel demanded.

The driver huffed and snickered.

“Come on, Az. I’ve known you for 20 years. Known you since we were lads.”

“So?”

“Seen you with all kinds of birds, and here we are tonight, and I am watching you walk away from Miss Busty without a second thought. And I can see you itching to go back to that posh neighbourhood and see your posh lass and her mega posh pug. Tell me I am wrong?”

Azriel rubbed his chin and looked back at the window.

“Russell Square,” was all he said.

Dev smiled widely.

“On my fucking way, lad.”

Because yes, Azriel wanted to be with his woman. And wanted a repeat of the night from five days ago.

Five Days Ago

Five nights ago, Azriel did not keep true to his word.

Well, technically, he didn’t promise to stay in his room. He didn’t promise to stop kissing Elain. He didn’t promise anything, other than to cover his cock if he went to her room. And he did.

He covered his cock.

He wore his boxers, to be precise.

He settled for the night–or at least for the immediate couple of hours–but as soon as the door closed, he heard scratching and banging, growling and barking.

“Piglet no!” came Elain’s urgent pleas. “Az is going to sleep. So should you. Go to your bed. Right now!”

Instead, there was snapping and more growling.

“Piglet, no. You had chicken and rice, you took a nice walk, you played with Az, and it’s time to call it a night. Go to bed.”

There was a pause, and then more aggressive banging on the door, which Azriel hoped wasn’t Pinky ramming his head into it.

“I swear to god, Piglet Pinky Archeron,” Elain exclaimed sternly and Azriel just about fell off the bed, at the sound of the middle name,

Piglet Pinky Archeron Night. Thank you very much.

“I am going to take you to the vet!”

A shocked, horrified whimper was the answer.

That was a hella threat then.

And then Piglet started crying and Azriel couldn't take it anymore. He got out of bed and threw the door open. With that, Piglet in turn threw himself in his arms like the floor was lava. Azriel wrapped his arms around him and whispered, “It’s okay, my boy. It’s okay. I am not going to send you to the vet,” he glanced at Elain, meaning to give her the stink eye, and only to notice her shocked expression.

Oh yeah…he was naked, other than for his underwear.

“Ummm,” she mumbled…”I…well, I…if he…you know he is quite loud if you want him to sleep in the room,” she rambled on, as her eyes darted here and then, trying to avoid the sight of his naked flesh.

That’s right, sweetheart. Keep looking.

“I am dressed,” Azriel pointed out with a smirk.

“I…I,” she huffed, swiping her hand over her brow, “I wouldn’t call this ‘dressed’ Mr. Azriel…”

“Mr. Azriel?” Azriel teased. “What happened to Mr. Night?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Mr. Night!” Elain nodded frantically, “that’s what I meant, of course. Naturally. Mr. Azriel.”

He kept staring at her, smiling, while she muttered, “Mr. Night!”

Then he shrugged and told her, “I rather like hearing my name on your lips, beautiful. ‘Azriel’ me all you want. Come on in then,” he jerked his head, inviting her in.

“Come where?” she baulked.

“To my comfy bed, obviously,” he explained like she was a bit stupid. “It’s only nine o'clock. According to the Daily Mail I am a ‘debauched footballer’--so what the fuck am I doing in bed at this hour? It’s fine for Pink, but you and I can spend some quality time together,”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she kept muttering, while he grabbed her hand and tugged her along.

“Don’t worry little virgin,” he assured her, “I’ll leave your virtue intact, if that’s what you’d like,”

“I am not a virgin!” she hissed at him and he laughed and then the three of them piled onto the bed, under his significant bulk and strength.

But first things first…

He got her in bed with him, which was a massive accomplishment. Took two months, but here they were. Now, he needed a minute to wrap his mind around the fact that Elain Archeron, his Elain, was in bed with him. Thankfully, Pinky offered him that opportunity, when he jumped off the bed, screamed excitedly, and then began running frantic circles around the room.

Watching the pug’s antics, Elain laughed and whispered, “major case of the zoomies.”

“For the laziest dog, he sure does pack a lot of energy,” Azriel commented, carefully arranging himself next to her, trying to be inconspicuous, like this was normal for them.

Nothing was normal.

None of this was normal.

Even the fact that Elain was barefoot, and he was seeing her pretty toes for the first time, had Azriel spiralling internally. She was usually formally dressed, and when he did catch her in casual attire, it was strange enough. But Elain barefoot? Her toenails were painted a light pearl colour and he couldn’t stop staring at them. He couldn’t stop staring at the difference in their sizes: at how much bigger he was than her. He was a big man, but her little pale feet seemed almost childish next to his large, beat up, calloused ones. His muscular legs reached almost to the edge of the bed, and he looked rough and wild compared to her, his skin a deep golden brown, tattoos peppering his body here and there, all the sinewy tight muscles bulging and shifting beneath his bruised, scarred, scratched skin. She was soft and creamy, pale and resembled a marshmallow or a cream puff. He resembled a gnarly log.

He extended his arm and Elain naturally leaned into the crook, laying her head on his shoulder.

She wore grey pyjama pants with pugs on them (obviously), and a red Arsenal t-shirt, with Azriel’s own number. Like a proper girlfriend should. Though it made his chest warm and everything inside of him squeezed with strange wormy happiness, because this wasn’t the jersey that he gave her. This was a different shirt, which she clearly bought for herself, and now wore to bed.

There was nothing sexy or alluring about her mismatched night outfit, but to Azriel, it was somehow perfect. Undoubtedly, the ensemble that she had on earlier–the shorts, the knee highs, and the jumper–was Pinterest-worthy in its enticing sexiness, and nothing beat half of her ass falling out of those shorts.

But this was good. Like it should be.

He rested his chin atop of her head and then she reached across him and tugged a blanket on top of his body.

“You’ll grow cold and will never get better,” she complained.

“Is my naked body messing with your little ladyship sensibilities?” he teased. “What’s it like with Lord Eris? Brace yourself, Sally, and think of England?”

“I hate you so much,” she said flatly, shaking her head with disdain.

“No, matchy. You like me,” he said assertively.

She tensed a little against him, but he only stroked her shoulder lightly, keeping her in place.

Piglet finally tired out from his zooming and attempted to climb back on the bed, but he couldn’t reach that high up, so he began whimpering frantically, now wanting as much attention as possible and fearing that he was missing out.

Azriell scooped him up with his available hand and placed him at his side.

“You can stay here, but you are not Beyonce, so no one will be entertaining you. Calm down and go to sleep. It’s me and Ellie time.”

Piglet pouted at him, but then burrowed himself in the blanket and quieted down.

“Try to keep the farting to a minimum,” Azriel warned, but Piglet only snorted at him.

Azriel draped the rest of the blanket over Elain, and then boldly grabbed her hip and hoisted her leg up and over his own.

There was a moment there, where they just looked at each other, their bodies connected, the intimacy of the moment almost stifling.

It was then that Elain asked,

“What do you want, Azriel? From me?”

He looked at her, studying the lovely contours of her face, and after a long pause, said,

“I want everything from you. I want you in the worst way. I need your taste. Your scent. I want to know what your skin would feel next to mine. I want to crawl so deep inside of you, that you won’t be able to extricate yourself from me ever. Not ever. Not with a spoon. Not with an axe. Not with a prayer. Not with a saw. And I want it all tonight. I want it every minute of the day. And I know that I can’t have it. So I yearn and desire, and I suffer, because I cannot have it. I cannot have you.”

“It’s a violent image,” she whispered at last, watching him in awe. “Your love is possessive, and nearly scary.”

“Nearly,” he agreed, “but not quite. I simply didn’t know that I could feel this way about anything. About anyone.”

“Are you going to start spouting poetry?” she smiled and lightly traced her finger over his jaw.

“I usually don’t need to resort to that,” he chuckled. “But if you’d like me to give you a little speech about how you’d bewitched me, body and soul, I could do that.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve read Pride and Prejudice!” she gasped in shock.

Azriel laughed quietly, “Fuck no! But I’ve seen enough gifs from the movie to remember that line.”

“I love that movie,” Elain admitted dreamily.

“Absolutely no surprise there,” Azriel concluded.

He then pulled her closer and slipped his arm lower, so he could cup her lovely ass, and when he did, she didn’t even fight him. That’s my girl, he thought.

“What should I get Pinky for Christmas?” he pondered, as he glanced at the sleeping pug.

“I don’t think that he cares all that much,” Elain admitted, while her little finger kept making circles on his skin, travelling from his neck, down to his shoulder and chest, as she traced the lines of his tattoos.

“Come on, of course he does! I do too. What should I get him?”

“Well,” she thought, “the things he likes the most are: empty Amazon envelopes, the padded ones. Socks. You can get him an old shoe. A stick, of course. He likes a good stick. Any kind of hose that he can tear up–pantyhose are his fave. An empty box. And of course the thing that he loves the most in the world is,” then her voice dropped to a whisper and she said into Azriel’s ear, her voice barely audible, “meatloaf.”

Even though Elain was whispering, the magical word still caused Piglet to stir sleepily. He waited for a moment, before falling back asleep.

“See?”

“Wow, he really must love it,” Azriel barely contained himself, stifling his laughter. “I guess I know what we are having for Christmas!”

The next hour and a half were spent in blissful warmth. Azriel took out his phone, and they proceeded to watch a bunch of comedians on Netflix. They laughed at the same jokes, and Azriel found it endearing.

“I think we need to get a tree,” Azriel decided at some point. “I would’ve thought that you’d be completely Christmas-obsessed and everything would be covered in Christmas spirit. Kind of like in ‘Elf’.”

Elain sighed and frowned.

“What?” he pushed, stroking her head.

“I didn’t feel like it this year, I guess,” she said lamely.

“Why?”

“I dunno…”

“Come on. Tell me.”

“I am not feeling festive, I suppose.”

The vague admission didn’t sit right with him and he turned her face up, so he could look at her.

“What happened?”

She bit her lip and sighed,

“I don’t know…I guess I didn’t see myself in this place, under these circumstances, at this stage of my life,”

“What circumstances?”

“Single, I suppose,” she sighed again. “I figured that by 28, I’d be married, maybe even with children. For sure with someone significant in my life. Now I'll be 28 in less than two weeks, and I guess I just broke up with my long-term boyfriend? I am not even certain where we stand with him. And then there is you, and you are all kinds of confusing,”

“I am not confusing,” he argued. “I am your boyfriend. I don’t really care that you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge this yet, but I am. You ain’t single. You are mine. And if you want me to put a ring on your finger on your birthday, I will, if it will make you happy,”

Elain elbowed him harshly and snapped, “Stop talking like that! We barely know each other! We,”

“We know each other plenty. What don’t I know about you and you don’t know about me? Short of an anal probe, you’ve asked me every question imaginable. You know what I like to eat, where I grew up, how I fuck, what I wear, where I live, and I know that you love your pug, and your sisters, and that sometimes you are lonely, and that you love watching couples that you set up end up married and happy, and you’ve been hurt in love, and you love apple crisps and are sweetly rough around the edges despite being a Lady.”

“I don’t know how you…fuck,” she cleared her throat.

“I can certainly show you that right now,” he offered. “I’ve been ready to fuck you since you’ve been eyeing my happy trail the day we decorated for Halloween,”

“WHAT!!!!” she cried out. “I was not!”

“Sure were, baby, sure you were,” he teased and squeezed her ass cheek hard, “you think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t let you watch for as long as you wanted?”

“Oh my god, you are horrible!” she smacked his bare chest. “I wasn’t. It was just there. Your stomach! You were showing it to me,”

“Uh-uh. Anyways. This Christmas will be brilliant, for you and for me. A new start, a new beginning,”

“Beginning of what?” she asked timidly, her expression hopeful and eager. She liked what he was telling her.

“Us, Elain Archeron. Us. Argue all you want, but I ain’t letting you go. And I am taking Pinky to get us a tree!”

He drove the point home by reaching and cupping her breast. He squeezed it tightly, bouncing it within his palm. It didn’t escape him that Elain wasn’t wearing a bra under the t-shirt, and her soft full tits have been rolling around all evening long next to him and driving him crazy.

She squeaked in surprise, and attempted to throw his hand off, but once he brushed his thumb over her nipple, she stilled and her breathing hitched audibly.

“You want me to show you how I fuck?” he asked quietly, swiping his thumb over the hardening nipple.

“You promised,” she protested breathlessly. “You said you won’t pressu-,”

“I did,” he nodded. “I did. But let me promise something else now then,”

“What?”

“I will fuck you, Ellie. And you are going to love it. And you’ll ask for more.”

When Azriel was 9 years old, he stole an eclair from a bakery. His class was some kind of class trip to the theatre. They were brought to Covent Garden and he walked around there, eyes wide open, his mind blown. He’d never been to a place more exciting, or beautiful, or wealthy. All he knew were hospitals, drab council estates, and his football, which he often played on concrete. He gawked at the shops, all the restaurants and pubs, and the bakeries. Gorgeous displays of wonderful things everywhere.

Azriel always had quick, sticky fingers, and though he didn’t like thieving, sometimes, it was necessary. Basic necessities were hard to come by, and when he could, he stole–socks and belts, toothpaste, combs, tissues, candy. He made it a point not to steal for no reason, and not get in trouble needlessly, over something trivial.

That day, they passed by some French sounding bakery–it was all gleaming marble, and outlandish displays of croissants and pastries, cakes and tarts, and rich people drinking coffee and buying bread. Nine quid for a loaf of bread. Outrageous!

But there were two types of eclairs that he couldn’t tear his eyes from. One covered in a chocolate glaze, and another sprinkled with hazelnuts and decorated with cream roses. He couldn’t stop looking at them–two girthy decadent stunners that called his name. All he wanted was to sink his teeth into one. Or both.

So he went for it. He pinched them. Wasn’t difficult. He was small and no one paid any attention to him. Besides, even if someone did notice him, they’d assume he was here with a parent. It took a minute, tops. In and out, and two eclairs were nestled in a paper bag, and then in his school bag. Later that night, he and Cassian snuck out, and ate the eclairs sitting on the crumbling stoop of a building.

Up until tonight, Azriel Night had never tasted anything better than those eclairs. Never did anything more sumptuous, sinful and blissfully delicious pass his lips. Never.

Not until he sunk his teeth into Elain’s soft, delicate neck.

In his defence, the scent of her hair, her body, the mix of honey and jasmine and vanilla made him dream of those delectable pastries. And somehow, his lips found their way to her cheek, and then, to her gorgeous neck. His mouth travelled the length of her throat, placing hungry, hot, desperate kisses on the lightly perfumed, warm skin.

Elain moved and moaned softly beneath him, and he woke up fully, feeling her luscious breasts splayed beneath his chest, her small, firm hand gripping his bicep sleepily. He wasn’t sure if she was awake or if she was also dreaming. But once he started, he couldn’t stop. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled, while he kissed over the trembling pulse point, the hot pumping of blood erratic and needy beneath his lips. He licked her vein, before kissing gently below the ear, only to return to the neck, and cover it in more kisses, peppering it with small bites.

Elain’s eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him in the darkness.

He wouldn’t have it. Didn’t want any arguments or debates about this. Gripping her chin firmly with his fingers, he turned her head to the side, allowing him all the access he needed to her neck.

“Shhh,” he shushed her. “Let me have this…”

Her nails dug into his skin, but she didn’t fight him that moment. Her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply, back arching sexily and a needy little moan escaped her lips. He kissed her deeper, and his hand slipped back to her breast, which he covered with his palm. God she was soft. Soft and smooth and delicious in every way. And as his teeth and lips dug deeper into her skin and he sucked on her mercilessly, while realising that nothing compared to her in any way. She was his. That fluttering little heart beat for him.

He squeezed her breast harder, his fingers closing on the nipple, as he twisted it between his fingers, pinching it hard enough for her to gasp loudly.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned, “oh god,” because he pulled and pinched her nipple again, causing her to shudder next to him from both pain, but also pleasure.

Azriel figured that she hadn’t experienced true pleasure in a long time now. He was going to fix that.

“Enough,” she moaned at last and pushed him away slightly. “Not yet…”

“Okay,” he said quietly and pulled away from her neck. Flipping on his back, he covered his eyes with his forearm and willed himself to calm down. Elain was panting next to him.

When he glanced at her, her hair was a mess, her lips were parted, and she was holding her breast, while a bruise bloomed on her neck.

“Shit,” he whispered, rubbing his face. “I am sorry. Did I hurt you?”

She was silent, staring at the ceiling.

“Ellie, I am sorry,” he muttered worriedly, “forgive me. I am sorry, I overestimated my,”

“It felt good,” she said suddenly.

“Oh. Well, that’s good, right? I thought that I was too,”

“Rough? Yes. But you warned me about that,”

“And…is that okay?”

She thought about it and said, “No one’s ever been like that with me. You are different,”

“I should hope so!”

“You are so heavy,” she commented, “I love your weight. You are solid and so muscular,”

Amused he repeated, “That’s what you like? My weight?”

She pressed her fingers to her neck, “You bit me.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” he whispered sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to,”

“I think that you did. You marked me. I can feel the imprint of your teeth.”

Maybe he did mark her.

He bit her like a savage. Like an animal in heat during mating.

He’d never bit anyone like that before.

And he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

So he didn’t explain or say anything further. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, parking her curvy ass in the cradle of his hips. It seemed that she waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, she tucked her hands beneath her cheek and settled in, with him holding her in his arms.

It was Piglet who nosed into Azriel’s neck, huffing and snorting, clawing at him lightly.

It was barely light outside, but that was to be expected. December in London wasn’t exactly full of sunshine and blue skies.

“He needs to go poop,” Elain groaned sleepily, though she made no effort to open her eyes and only snuggled closer to Azriel.

He smiled and patted her butt, before kissing her head and sitting up.

“Sleep, baby. I’ll take him.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, surprised.

“I am sure. Take a break. I’ll pick up his turds, no problem.”

She snorted a laugh and then turned away and pulled the blanket over her shoulder. Azriel climbed over her–totally unnecessarily–and made sure to sit on her for a second too, while she screeched and tried to swat him away.

“I thought you loved my weight?” he reminded her with a laugh.

“Not this much!” she yelled, and slapped his thigh. “Ohmygod, you are almost naked!”

“Sure am, baby. Nothing but a thin piece of cotton that’s standing between you and my cock n’ balls.”

“It’s too early for your sex talk,” she complained.

“Sweetness, when we are married, be prepared for some morning sex.”

“It’s especially too early for your marriage talk.”

“Never!”

“Make sure to put a coat and a hat on him,”

Azriel picked Pinky up and muttered under his breath, “You do remember that he is a descendant of wolves?! Now he eats fuckin’ meatloaf and wears a hat to go outside.”

At the word ‘meatloaf’ Piglet howled happily.

“That’s for Christmas,” Azriel promised him.

Leaving Elain to snooze, Azriel picked up his clothes, and then found a bathroom in the hallway. It was right across from Elain’s bedroom, where he didn’t dare go yet, but he figured that that’s the one she used for herself. When he entered, he was proven correct. It was the prettiest bathroom imaginable–with a gorgeous view outside, no less. As with everything in this house, it was a perfect combination of modern and classic, tiled simply with white tiles, it also had a modern tub, and a glass shower.

He already imagined their babies splashing in the tub and him fucking Elain in the shower.

Yeah, he always had a vivid imagination.

He looked around, snooping through the cupboards and cabinets. Elain had a moderate amount of products for her hair, only a couple of body lotions, which he sniffed, perfume–custom made, which explained her unique scent–period pads and tampons (he noted the brands, so he could buy them for his own place), same for toothpaste (they used the same one) and finally, he opened the medicine cabinet. No prescription drugs. Just a few utilitarian things and that’s about it, other than the flat disc, which he was pretty familiar with. He took it out and opened it. Low dosage birth control pills. He tsked, seeing as Elain wasn’t very careful about taking them. He figured that she probably didn’t care, since her ginger prick wasn’t here, but that also pleased him because she definitely wasn’t fucking anyone right now.

As he wrestled with Piglet, who was ready for a bath apparently, Azriel considered what to do. He found a pack of toothbrushes, brushed his teeth, noting that he was looking better than yesterday, combed his hair, and then slipped the birth control pills into the backpocket of his joggers.

No need for these anymore, sweetheart.

Did he feel bad about messing with Elain’s birth control–not really.

He just stole it.

At least he didn’t replace the pills with sugar pills, which he briefly considered.

He wasn’t a good man, and he never pretended to be one.

But he wanted his cum to fall in fertile ground, when the time came for that. Ellie didn’t need any birth control.

By the time he and Pinky returned from their walk, Azriel carrying two cups of coffee and a bag with pastries, Elain was up.

For a moment, he worried that she was going to question him about the pills, but she didn’t say anything, only laughing at Pinky’s ridiculous outfit. It was some kind of knit poncho with a hat attached to it. He looked like an idiot, but Azriel loved it, and so did Elain apparently.

“I love walking with him,” Azriel announced, setting breakfast on the counter. “No one pays attention to me. Everyone is only interested in him. Someone even asked him if I was his new dogwalker!”

Elain burst out laughing, while Piglet began zooming around the first floor and Azriel sat down across from her.

“I have a proposal,” she said at last, lacing her fingers together, as she stared him down.

He rolled his eyes and threw his head back.

“Oh god. I am not in the mood for proposals. Unless you are being a modern woman and asking me to marry you. Then, it’s a yes.”

“Well, no.”

“Figures.”

“But it is connected to marriage.”

He sipped his coffee and then said dejectedly, “What now, beautiful? You better make it good.”

“I promise to go out with you,” she announced grandly, and he laughed.

“Isn’t it a little too late for that? Considering that I am sleeping in your bed now?”

“No. Proper dating,” she insisted. “Like if you are my boyfriend,”

“I am your boyfriend,” he reminded her.

“Can you listen to me!” she snapped, and he rubbed the back of his neck before finally saying, “fine. What do you want?”

“You agree to go out with two more candidates,”

Shaking his head violently, he said, “no, no, no. No way. I am done with all that.”

“You’ve gone on ONE DATE!!!”

“No,” he corrected. “I’ve gone on three dates, with one person.”

“Exactly!” she did not relent. “With one person. That’s not enough. Nuala is one candidate. You must go on at least two more.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I am happy where I am at–with you.”

“Mr. Night,” she began, but he waved his hand,

“Fuck off with the Mr. Night, beautiful. We are done with all that. And I am done with the matchmaking. I am matched already.”

“Do you take pride in your work?” she asked seriously.

“Obviously.”

“And just because you are friends with someone from an opposing team, would it stop you from scoring against them?”

“Probably not.”

“Well, consider me your opponent.”

“That’s not even remotely the same. Your comparison is absolute shite. You aren’t my opponent. And I am not scoring against you. I wanna score with you.”

“Two people! Is that so much to ask? If it doesn’t work out, then we know that this is real,”

“I already know that this is real. I don’t need to go on dates with random lasses to know that I’d come back to you.”

“What if you are infatuated?”

“I am infatuated. But it’s much more than that. Also, why am I gonna waste time on courting others, when I have work to do with you. You are still all shifty and weird with me.”

“Because you are my client!” she exclaimed with exasperation. “This isn’t something I’ve ever even considered doing! Let alone actually…doing it.

“And I need to know for myself that this is right for us. For me. I have to know that I am not selfishly shortchanging you.”

“You aren’t,” he insisted. “But if I must, I will go out with two more matches. No more,” he warned her sternly. “No more, Elain. I am not kidding,”

“I understand.”

“If it doesn’t work out–which it won’t–I am done and done, and I am dating you. That’s it.”

“But you have to be truthful and sincere about it. Not just say ‘no’ to them because you want to be cross and contradictory,” she added quickly.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“But if they aren’t for me, I will be honest about that too.”

“Fine.”

Lady Morrigan Court-Hewn.

30 years old. Socialite. Handbag and jewellery designer. Graduated from St. Andrews with a degree in International Studies. A fencing champion at the university, and an accomplished equestrian. Still rides professionally.

Previously engaged to Lord Vincent Eris Autumn, son of Earl Beron Autumn. Notable previous relationships include Prince Harry, Henry Cavill and a brief fling with Ronaldo.

Hobbies: Car racing (F1), horses, fencing and wine tasting

Today

And that’s how Azriel ended up here.

‘Professional drinker’ was definitely omitted from Mor’s profile. As was, ‘expert gold digger’.

As Dev drove towards Russell Square, Azriel checked his phone.

Baron Kier Court-Hewn lost most of his fortune about ten years ago. He bred racing horses, and five of his top steeds needed to be put down due to some disease that they all got. With the death of the horses, the family fortune dwindled. That explained Mor’s ‘research’ into everyone’s finances. It wasn’t surprising that Azriel was primed for the taking.

He wouldn’t have cared about the money thing all that much–it was understandable, everyone wanted money–if she weren’t so vocal about her cunty opinions about Elain, and her calling Pinky ‘lame and legless’.

It’s been a busy week and he was feeling antsy for not having seen Elain and Pinky for four days. He set up the meeting with Mor as soon as Elain got him her information, preferring to get that out of the way. Then he had to travel to two games, and even though he wasn’t playing, he still had to attend. There was a meeting with disadvantaged youths from East London a couple of days ago, and a whole day shooting an advert for Christmas with his team.

Thankfully, it was almost holiday time.

Once Dev pulled up to the townhouse, Azriel said, “don’t wait up”.

Dev smirked and told him, “I wouldn’t think of it!”

Bracing against the cold, Azriel rushed up the stairs and banged loudly on the door. Pink’s excited barking and scratching was heard on the other side.

“What is it?” came Elain’s faint question. “Piglet, what’s going on?”

Bark-bark.

“Is it daddy?”

Fuck yeah it’s daddy!

The next moment, the door opened and Elain was smiling at him.

“Get dressed, beautiful,” Azriel ordered. “Put a hat on Pinky. We are going tree shopping!”

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

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probably-a-plant-thing · 1 year

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Vincent Sinclair Headcanons

Please note I don't take criticism, I'm objectively correct :]

Vincent is vegitarian. I've mentioned it before, but I think he hates most meats' textures. Especially since half his mouth is kinda... plus I think he might have gone out with Lester once for a roadkill run and now just can't eat meats

STRAIGHTEST motherfucker in existence. I would know, he told me himself. I'm sorry but if your first scene ever is tenderly sculpting honkers, you're straight as hell.

Fuckboy. Hear me out. If he hadn't had half his face fucked up, he would 100% be the "soft boy" art whore. He'd hit you up with shitty poetry or would make little wax roses and pretend you're the ONLY person he's ever made one for.

Hates modern art. Take him to a modern art museum and he's in hell. Not even for the capitalism reason, he's just the prick that thinks that a blue canvas with a white dot in the middle isn't real art.

He was the twin that Trudy n Victor planned on naming first. Like they had his name lined up n ready then found out it was twins, THEN found out they were conjoined and he got the nice name out of pity.

His favorite smoothie flavor is mango.

Enjoys baking. Does he do it often? No. But he likes it more than cooking.

#vincent sinclair #house of wax #slasher #slashers #headcanon #vincent sinclair headcanon

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hiemaldesirae · 29 days

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ideas i had for voxs anatomy heehee

more notes:

yes his mastectomy scars are shaped like a v in the middle. tbh if we go by the show tho hes def not had top surgery.... have you guys Seen the size of his honkers

hes probably got speaker and headphone ports in his neck + back of his head

the static that comes from his antennas DOES hurt btw. its like 200volts of energy which i mean for particularly resilient demons might not kill them (coughs. alastor) but yeah youd die immediately if u touched it as a human

vel tried to stuff his feet into heels once and broke off the part that corresponds to the left click on his feet. that caused a panic around the vee tower until he told her he could just snap it back in place

one time he switched out his tv head for an ipad instead as an april fools joke and opened up procreate for val to scribble on

i havent decided if i want his joints to look like doll joints where theyve got the little balls or if i want it to look like plain old metal sliding on metal so itll vary from drawing to drawing

#🌗 art tag #hazbin vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #anatomy studies are sooo fun i shld do them more #well. this technically isnt a study #but still! my point stands #also canonically his thigh gap is way bigger than that (literally look at a screenshot its fucking huge) but i cant draw it well #so. shrugs. this is all i have

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analogwriting · 3 months

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Childhood Crush

Chapter 12: Stainless

Killer x gn!reader word count: 3.7k a/n: I'M ALIIIIIIVE. anyway, this is a honker and kind of a catch all bc it's gloss over timeskip stuff. i can't tell you how many times i wrote the last part tho sdlkfj next

Settling in was so much easier than you thought it was going to be. You moved into the spare bedroom at Myra’s, Lily excitedly helping you unpack - and by unpack, she just took your things out and went through your stuff before setting it on the ground to grab the next thing to look at.

You didn’t mind though. Going from a rowdy ship to just a house with two other people was definitely a big change - so you welcomed the noise. You just listened as she idly chatted about nothing as kids typically did. It reminded you of your brother when he was younger. He would constantly talk about nothing for hours on end.

There was one day that he talked about Victoria for about four hours. It was a fond memory you had because of the relentless teasing, but it’s long since turned bittersweet because of her untimely demise.

You didn’t just listen to your brother’s ramblings - since the boys were always at the house, you heard all of them ramble about something at one point or another. Still to this day, actually. Before everything had went downhill, Heat had come into your lab and started talking about a group of cats he had seen on the island you had all stopped at. He told you about how he had given each of them names and what they looked like. How they all even had their own personalities.

It was rather adorable, honestly. They all still would come to your lab and drone on about something they had seen or just wanted to share with you. Like an excited child telling their parent. Then, usually, you told Killer when the both of you would be making dinner.

Thinking about those things, you were already missing them. You felt terrible with the way you left things off. You wished you could have gone back and just…not have shut down like you did but…it was too late now.

Settling into work also went pretty smoothly. Everyone was incredibly nice - which it probably helped that Myra was the one that introduced you to everything. She was the head of the island, after all.

You had your own office space, which somewhat ended up as the Kid Pirates Museum. Your space was filled with different newspaper clippings. It didn’t matter who it was or if it was good or bad, all of it went on the walls. You were so proud of your brother for coming so far and making a name for himself.

However, you were worried about him. He seemed to be growing a bit reckless in his endeavors. He was going to end up biting off more than he could chew and that worried you. They all told you not to die on them, but really they needed to not die on you. You honestly wouldn’t forgive them. You already told yourself that you’d figure out a way to bring them back and then kill them yourself.

It was only fair.

Eventually, you created something that improved your own life significantly. It seemed like a simple arm band that you had around your bicep. It connected with your nerves and you were able to gain full functionality of your arm again. It was something you had worked on the side for a while and now - it was complete.

With the full movements and feeling in your arm back, you started to train at the facility. You wanted to be able to regain your ability to fight. You wanted to be able to protect those you cared about once more. You wanted to feel useful again. You knew, logically, that there was plenty you could do even with your bum arm. You even proved that yourself time and time again, but it was just something that your head couldn’t wrap around.

If it had happened to anyone else, you would’ve told them what your brother and his friends told you. That it was okay, there was plenty of other things. Hell, you probably could’ve even learned how to fight with one arm. You heard that Shanks only had one arm and he fought just fine.

Though, he was a completely different ballgame than you. He didn’t count.

To test out your newly regained ability, you started to go out on field missions. There was a group of combat trained scientists that would sail out to various islands to gather materials and/or research. Some traveled far, some didn’t. You were with the latter. You stayed close to the island, you didn’t want anything that would take up too much time considering that you eventually wanted to go and find your brother again.

You proved to be able to hold your own once more. Fighting became a breeze to you once more, easily taking out several people in one go. Just as you used to be able to.

When you returned from your most recent voyage, Lily and Myra greeted you at the dock. Lily ran up to you, immediately jumping in your arms. You laughed, holding her. “I missed you!” You grinned. “Missed you too, kiddo.” Fuck, it was going to suck when you had to leave for good.

Myra seemed to be pensive. There was a look of worry in her face. “What’s wrong, My?” you asked, setting Lily down as you walked over to her. She smiled, shaking her head. “We’ll talk later.” You narrowed your eyes at her. Something was wrong and you knew it. You left it for now, assuming that she didn’t want to talk about whatever it was in front of her daughter.

You decided not to pry, instead engaging in whatever Lily was prattling on about as you walked towards your temporary home with the two. You caught them up on your most recent mission and they caught you up on what you missed on the island - which wasn’t exactly much.

The entire day, Myra seemed on edge. Sure, she laughed and joked like normal, but you had a knack for reading people. You knew something was up, but you never said anything. At least not while Lily was awake.

Currently, it was after dinner and you were sitting on the couch, Lily fast asleep in your lap. Myra was sitting in an armchair adjacent to the couch. “So, you going to tell me what’s going on, My?” You looked at her and she seemed to stiffen. She looked at you for a moment before glancing down at Lily. She sighed softly, pulling a newspaper from the inside of her coat.

“Read this.”

With a scrunch of your eyebrows, you took the paper, careful not to wake the little one. You read the headline and your heart immediately sank. You felt your blood run cold. Your brother had lost to Shanks and seemed to sustain grave, life threatening injuries. Panic began to rise in your chest as your grip on the paper tightened.

You felt yourself relax once you reached the end of the article. Eustass was in stable condition, going back to his usual antics. However, you did notice something. “He fucking lost his arm?” You stared at the paper before you started falling into silent laughter - mostly so you didn’t wake up Lily.

Myra looked at you - completely startled by your reaction. “I- Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. That’s just funny.” She looked at you like you had grown an extra head.

You set the paper down, looking at Myra. “I mean, he lost his arm and temporarily, so did I. Technically, without the bracelet, I still don’t have a fully functioning arm.” You chuckled. “Guess having two arms doesn’t run in the family. But at least between the two of us we have one good pair of arms.” Honestly, it was hysterical.

“Oh man, I wonder which one it is. Because it would be so funny if it was the opposite of mine. Then we really do only have one good pair of arms.” You slowly calmed down, your laughter dying down as well. You took a deep breath.

“I thought you’d be more upset,” Myra said slowly, still unsure how to gauge your reaction. You looked at her with a small smile. “Well, my brother is strong and can hold his own. Especially if his crew is with him. He’s going to be just fine. The article said he was stable and sailing again, so I’m sure he’s going to heal up just fine.” Sure, you were still worried about him.

“However.” Your face soured. “I am absolutely going to tear him a new one for fighting Shanks. I love my brother, yes, but that was the dumbest fucking move he could’ve made. He’s nowhere near ready to fight him.” What you wanted to know was why he tried to fight him. Did it just end up happening? Or did he seek him out? You had so many questions swimming through your head.

Myra let out a small laugh and you looked over at her. “Guess I was stressed about nothing. I was worried that the news would upset you.”

“Eh. My brother and I have been through our fair share of shit - I know him well enough to know he’ll be just fine.” Your expression changed to a deadpan one. “Until I get to him, I tell ya. I’m going to kick his ass.”

After that, you two fell back into normal conversation, eventually turning in for the night.

“You’re telling me I have to do fucking what?”

Myra winced at your word choice. She still wasn’t accustomed to you cursing despite having lived with her the last year or so. You did well to not swear in front of Lily and other children, but adults were free game. You were a pirate, after all. Those words didn’t really hold meaning to you.

“You’re the only one fit for the job, y/n.”

You just stare at her from the chair you’re in. You’re currently in her office, her having called you in. There was apparently some really important plant they needed for some breakthrough but getting it was next to impossible.

“You’re asking me to go on a suicide mission, Myra.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I think you’re more than capable. Besides, if you decide it’s too much, you can come back.”

“Can’t come back if I’m head.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, you come on.” You groaned, putting your face in your hands. Were you ready for a mission like this? It was risky, but deep down, you knew you could do it.

“Besides, I heard your brother was last seen somewhere over there, so you can just send the flower back to us and go with your brother.” You looked at her, blinking. Eustass?

“Eustass is around there?”

Myra nodded. “We all know that this place is not your home, y/n. You were going to go back eventually. It’s probably time.”

“Kicking me out?” You smirked and she rolled her eyes. “Oh shut it. You know what I mean.”

You laugh, sighing after a bit. “Fine. I’ll do it.” She grinned, nodding. “Good.”

Hoo boy, nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’d end up discovering, however.

“I got you something, y/n.” You looked up from checking your inventory. You were currently on the dock, getting things ready for departure. “It’s from me, too!” Lily chimed from beside her, holding up a box. You blinked, tucking your clipboard under your arm and taking the box.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you said with a small laugh.

“We know, but we wanted you to have something to remember us by,” Myra said with a small smile. She was never one to express large emotions. Quite the opposite of her own child who was currently beaming ear to ear.

“You act like I’m never going to come back.” You shake your head as you open the box, missing the sad look on Myra’s face.

When you open the box, you’re taken aback. You figured it would be some kind of book or something for taking notes, but it wasn’t anything studious at all. It was a large knife, like the one your crew had gifted to you. You carefully took it out of the box, admiring it. “Oh wow…”

It was a lot like the one you had already, only instead of the Kid Pirates’ jolly roger on it, it had the lab’s emblem on it. A soft, fond smile spread across your face and you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

“Y/n! Do you not like it?” Lily frowned, looking up at you. “We didn’t mean to make you cry!” You looked at Lily and laughed softly, shaking your head, ruffling her hair. “No, no. I love it. I’m just happy.” You attached it to your belt on the opposite side before picking up Lily and hugging her tightly. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Lily laughed and hugged you tightly. You looked at Myra over her shoulder and smiled. “Thank you, too, Myra.” The scientist just nodded, her own sad smile on her face. There was something she seemed to know that she wasn’t telling you, but you were going to leave it be for now.

Nothing about this mission was going to be easy. Get in Wano - already hard enough. Blend in - could be easy, could be hard. Somehow sneak into fucking Kaido’s castle - practically impossible. Get the flower - depending on where it is, could be impossible. Send it back or come back - that part could be easy.

You have no idea why you let Myra talk you into this, but you ended up agreeing to it. Saying goodbye fucking sucked. Since this was possibly the last time you would see anyone for a long time, it was a hard goodbye. Lily almost broke your heart in two when you said goodbye. She didn’t want you to leave in the slightest. You were like another parent to her now. You told her that you’d come see her again - that you’d write and call when you could.

This whole island was like your second family, but Myra was right. It was home to go home. You missed everyone. Not a day went by that you didn’t think about them.

You also had some unfinished business with a certain someone. You had some hands to throw.

Getting into Wano was pretty difficult, but you persisted. Going upstream was absolutely insane. Everything settled down after that. It completely wiped you out, trying to navigate all that. You narrowly avoided a whirlpool. Next thing you knew, you were on a beach.

You hid your boat, knowing that the people of Wano didn’t really take visitors. Which brought you to your next issue. Blending in. You made sure to keep hidden for the most part. After all, you stuck out like a sore thumb. You did at the lab too, but they didn’t care as much. It’s not like you were trying to blend in there.

You reached a small village, quickly spotting some clothes on a clothesline. Wasting no time, you snagged them off the line and changed. After, you continued forward, eventually ending up somewhere full of snow. Great. You were just glad that the clothes you had come across had a cloak that came with a hood and a mask you would wrap around the lower half of your face.

How much more lost could you get? Why did you agree to this again? All for a flower?

Ugh. Fuck.

It was cold - too cold. Snow began to fall and, soon enough, visibility was also shit. It was just warm not too long ago; what the hell was going on? And now you’re all turned around because everything looks the same due to the snow. You needed to find shelter - and soon. You didn’t realize you’d end up this lost in a winter hellscape or you would have prepared a bit better.

A sound suddenly tore through the air. It was enough to make you jump a bit. It sounded like some maniacal laugh from a bad guy - though a bit more haunting. It sent a shiver down your spine. Whatever the fuck that was - you wanted nothing to do with it. You were here for one thing and one thing only: that stupid fucking flower that you were really debating on whether or not it was worth it at this point.

As you were walking, you lost your footing, immediately taking a tumble and falling down some hillside. When your body decided to stop moving finally, after what was way too long and now you were way too cold, you found yourself in front of some woman and a child. They looked at you with fear in their eyes, both of them also sitting in the snow.

“Wh-” Before you could ask what was wrong, you felt someone behind you. You turned just in time to block the on coming attack with your own daggers. One from your brother and friends, the other from Myra.

The assailant was a very large man with two very large scythes. Though, that’s not what startled you in the least. It was the cackle that erupted from him paired with the unnatural stretch of a hollow smile across his face. It sent a shiver down your spine. That was definitely the laugh you heard - the one you wanted nothing to do with.

How the hell did you get into this situation again?

You pushed the swordsman off of you, sending him back a bit. “I’d get out of my way if I were you,” he warned. There was a familiar ring to his voice, but it was too distorted for you to place it. Besides, the damn guy wouldn’t really stop laughing either. That was also getting on your nerves. You already didn’t like the haunting sound of it.

You said nothing, only solidifying your stance to protect the woman and small child. You couldn’t help but be reminded of Myra and Lily when you saw them. “You guys get out of here,” you told them, glancing at them for a moment.

A moment too long because he used that to attack you. Your movements were delayed as you tried to block him again, only to fumble and he gave you quite the cut on your arm. If you lost another arm, you were going to lose it. Though, after pushing him back, you realized it just looked worse than it was. Nothing some clean up and stitches couldn’t help.

He seemed surprised that, even with your distraction, you were able to recover quite quickly. You ran at him this time, initiating an attack, surprising him further. You were able to knick him in the side and knock him backwards - you were on top of him, basically competing for strength at this point as you pressed your blades against his, trying to break his defense.

From this angle, you had a better look at his face. Or you would have had there not been bandages covering his features. His eyes though, they pierced right through your soul despite themselves looking soulless. They were a shade of blue that made them familiar, but the lack of life made it hard to pinpoint who it reminded you of.

They did tell you everything you needed to know. This guy wasn’t in his right mind at all. Clearly some kind of brainwash of some kind. That didn’t explain the unnatural smile that didn’t reach the rest of his features, like his eyes, or the haunting and hollow cackle that erupted from him every once and a while.

Everything about this was weird.

Your thoughts were interrupted as he suddenly gained the upper hand. He had you pinned to the ground this time, his blade dangerously close to your neck. Fuck, you needed to out of this. You didn’t even want anything to do with this guy to begin with. He was clearly a level of unhinged that you didn’t want to mess with. With a quick glance around, you noticed the other two were gone. That was one less thing to worry about. It also didn’t help that your arm was currently throbbing from the laceration. Ugh.

You look back up at your assailant, noticing the look on his face seemed to change. Well, the look in his eyes. They faltered for a moment as they fell on your blade. The one your brother had gifted you. You used this moment to push him back, sending him off of you at least. It was, unfortunately, enough to knock him out of the trance it was in and he ran at you again.

What was that about? Why would your own knife make him falter like that? Though, his eyes lost that hollow look and…hold on. No fucking shot. There was no fucking shot that this was Killer. Contrary to his name, he wasn’t a complete mindless killing machine. He had least held some kind of emotion in his eyes, but…he also wasn’t really one to smile and laugh. Especially not like this.

Besides, your brother was nowhere to be found. This was just an uncanny valley and this was nothing more than a ghost - a glint of someone you missed. Nothing more.

But what if?

Fuck, now you wouldn’t be able to kill him even if you wanted to. Not with the possibility in your mind. After all, Myra did say your brother was reportedly in the area. But…what would Killer be doing here? Like that? Without Eustass? Ugh, your head was hurting from thinking about it.

The man in question was advancing on you once more and you solidified your stance - only to lose your footing and fall down yet another large hill. You descended rapidly, trying to stop yourself. You grabbed on to anything and everything, but nothing was strong enough to hold you or slow you down.

When you reached the bottom, you groaned, slowly rolling over. You heard that laugh in the distance, echoing through the snow. Visibility was impossible at this point, so you had to make your escape now. You didn’t want to deal with the situation anymore.

You stood up, heading off, finding a large log and crawling inside. You collapsed, completely winded. Your head was spinning and you felt yourself slowly losing consciousness.

#idk if anyone reads tags but imma say it here #i wrote some angsty shit for these next parts so have fun #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #am fics #cc

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lopsided-whiskey-grin · 1 year

Note

hi i just read your ghost/soap flashbang fic and I LOVED IT thanks for sharing!! you said we could suggest things and i'd love to see it written by you: a fic set at the first time soap saw ghost shirtless, and lost his SHIT about ghost's pecs. he goes bonkers about them honkers, yk?

Anon, I wanna personally thank you for this prompt bc my mind went wild with the possibilities lmao plus picturing Soap going absolutely feral for Ghost's knockers blessed my entire life. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! ( ˘³˘)♡

***************************

"On your feet, MacTavish. We're going to the gym."

Soap paused the game he'd been playing and pulled up one side of his headphones. He looked over at Ghost standing beside the couch. "You what?"

Ghost was zipping up a black hoodie over a black Under Armour shirt stretched across his broad chest. He was wearing dark gray sweats and a worn-in pair of trainers, all-in-all looking quite delicious. Soap swallowed hard.

"I said I'm getting you out of this fucking house, Johnny. You've been holed up in 'ere for weeks." He put on his skull jaw face mask that covered his nose and chin.

Soap sat back against the couch. He turned his attention to the TV. "Nah, I'm good."

After Chicago, he and Ghost had gotten a flat in London and were laying low, waiting until Laswell instructed them on their next move against Makarov. Dealing with Las Almas and Hassan had left him exhausted, mentally and physically and he told himself he only needed a break for just a few days to recuperate. But then a few days had turned into longer than that, with Soap barely ever leaving the apartment for the last two and a half weeks. He couldn't seem to get out of the rut he found himself in.

Ghost shook his head. "I wasn't asking," he said.

He grabbed Soap up off the couch none too gently and all but shoved him toward his bedroom, completely ignoring the string of Scottish curses Soap lobbed at him along the way.

"You have five minutes to get dressed, Sergeant or I'm throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you there in whatever you've got on right now."

Soap turned at the threshold of his door, hand on the doorknob. "Is that a promise L.t?" he asked with a cheeky grin tugging up the side of his mouth.

Ghost growled and started toward him, one hand balled in a fist. Soap laughed and shut the door.

He made it back out of the room by Ghost's five minute deadline, dressed in his workout clothes, but still not happy about being forced out of the house. He voiced as much to Ghost their entire ten minute walk to the gym. Ghost only sighed.

For as much griping as he did though, once he was actually at the gym he actually kind of enjoyed himself. He logged three miles on the treadmill, did a few 100 kilo deadlift reps, and spent some time with the battle rope. It felt good to be working his body, to be working up a sweat.

He caught Ghost's eye a couple times as they moved around each other to the different machines and each time felt his heart rate speed up. He knew it had nothing to do with the exercises. Spending the last two weeks in that small flat with Ghost in such close quarters was almost agonizing, seeing but not touching — not knowing if Ghost wished he could touch him too.

After about an hour and a half, drenched in perspiration and a little sore but in a good way, he started making his way to the locker room, looking forward to a hot shower to soothe his muscles. He was halfway across the room when Ghost called his name.

"Johnny, come spot me. I'm almost done."

Soap wandered over to where Ghost was laying back on the weight bench, his hands already on the bar over his head. Soap dutifully braced his legs apart and held his hands at the ready even though Ghost lifted the weights easily. He let his eyes roam over Ghost's body as he went through his reps, hungrily drinking in the sight of Ghost's massively broad chest flexing with each pump. He felt his cock jump in his gym shorts and quickly looked down to Ghost's face to see if he had noticed.

Ghost was staring straight up at him. Of course he fucking was.

Two bright spots of red bloomed on his cheeks and he swiftly looked away. "That's four," he said. His voice was a little hoarse and he coughed to cover it up.

Ghost racked the weights with Soap's help and he sat up, shaking his hands out. "Thanks, mate."

"Anytime," Soap replied with a half-hearted smile. Without waiting for Ghost to say anything else, he made a bee-line toward the locker room, grabbing a bottle of water from the vending machine in the hall on his way.

Soap cracked open the bottle and drank down half of it before he even sat on the bench next to his locker. Shit. Even after everything they'd been through in Mexico and Chicago, Soap still had a hard time showing Ghost how he felt about him — an impossible time, in fact. Fucking Christ, why was it so difficult to just say "Hey Ghost, I think you're hot as hell and I'd love to fuck your brains out one of these lovely afternoons if you're not too busy."?

Soap snorted out a soft laugh and took another pull of water. Yeah, that'd go over swimmingly.

The locker room door opening shook him from his thoughts and he looked over in time to see Ghost stalking into the room. His presence was so commanding that Soap couldn't help but stare.

Ghost went to his locker that was directly across from where Soap sat, turning his back to him to dig inside it. "Thanks for coming with me today, Johnny."

Soap shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but failing miserably. "I didn't really have a choice, did I?"

Ghost chuckled. "I think it was good for you," he replied gruffly, still not facing Soap. He unzipped his hoodie and tossed it in his duffle bag. Then pulled his t-shirt off.

Soap's gaze roamed over the large swatch of the bare skin of Ghost's back; it was the first time he'd seen him without a shirt on. Scars marred the flesh, some old and faded, others obtained more recently, but all of them utterly fascinating. And there was a small tattoo on his left shoulder, he noticed. Soap couldn't quite make it out. He squinted, trying to bring it into better focus.

But before he could try to read it, Ghost turned around to face him. Soap was in the middle of taking a sip of water when his brain short-circuited completely. He sputtered and choked while Ghost looked on with his shirt held loosely in his hands.

Soap's eyes were wide as fucking saucers as he took in the sight before him. It wasn't just Ghost's broad-as-a-barrel chest that floored him. It was his. Fucking. Pecs. They were massive. How he hid them under his shirt everyday without ripping it from seam to seam was a mystery to Soap.

They looked so fucking lusciously squeezable. But firm at the same time, somehow? Ghost's nipples were dusky pink and hardened into little pebbles from the cool air of the room. And it all made Soap's jaw drop — quite unattractively in all honesty.

Closing his gaping mouth with a click, Soap slowly set his water bottle at his side with a shaky hand. He rose on unsteady legs and walked around the bench between them, entranced.

"Ghost, I — I uh, what the…" The words fell off without Soap even registering that he'd quit talking.

He stopped before Ghost, unable to look him in the eyes. A kink Soap didn't even know he even fucking had was drawing all of his available attention straight to Ghost's chest. He needed to touch, needed to feel, needed to bury his face right fucking there.

He reached a trembling hand up, then hesitated with his fingertips hovering just above Ghost's skin. Ghost's dark gaze followed his movements closely, his eyes wide. It sounded like Ghost himself was out of breath but Soap wasn't sure — his brain was going fucking haywire and he couldn't concentrate.

Looking up at Ghost, he rasped, "Can I?"

Ghost seemed surprised by the question, but nodded. Soap released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He brought both hands up, laying his palms flat on Ghost's massive pecs.

"Sweet screaming Jesus," he whispered reverently, kneading the muscles.

Ghost groaned and Soap's cock throbbed in response. He bent forward and took one of those perfect nipples into his mouth. The taste of sweat and the promise of a long night of fucking bloomed across his tongue. Ghost jerked at the contact.

"Fuck, Johnny. If I had known you'd be so turned on by my tits, I'd have taken my shirt off in front of you weeks ago."

Soap drew Ghost's nipple between his teeth, biting down gently. Ghost hissed and grabbed onto Soap's hips. "If I had known you were hiding these fucking knockers under your clothes this whole time, I'd have ripped your shirt off myself," he murmured around Ghost's nipple still in his mouth, "Bloody hell, Ghost."

A chuckle rumbled through Ghost's chest.

"You realize I'm not going let you wear a stitch of clothing around the flat now, right?" He punctuated the words with rough squeezes of his hands.

"That so?" Ghost rasped behind his mask, sounding amused.

Before Soap could reply or say anything further, though, the locker room door opened. Soap backed off immediately, but Ghost held him in place with his hands still on Soap's hips.

The man who had interrupted them backed out the door slowly under Ghost's intense glare. When they were alone again, Soap massaged Ghost's chest once more. He canted his head up to meet Ghost's gaze.

"Shall we continue this conversation back at home, Johnny?" Ghost asked. He tugged Soap's hips forward until they were flush against each other.

Soap was pretty sure Ghost already knew the answer to that. "Oh, hell yes."

#ghostsoap #ghost x soap #soapghost #cod #mw2 #prompt fill #fanfic #one shot #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish

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chaotic-orphan · 11 months

Text

June of Doom, Day 1.2

“You don’t want to do that”

locked door// collapse // fear

CW: captivity whump/hero whump/power plays/violence/intimate whumper/creepy whumper/

I wrote two Day 1’s, no you’re not seeing things and no I’m not sorry

*~*~*~*~*

The villains dragged a half alive Hero through winding hallways, down stairs and finally stopped before a door. Hero barely had the energy to keep themselves up so they let themselves be dragged, not that they had a choice about it anyways. Not like they could fight off two Villains in their current state. Their boots were dragging against the floor as the door in front of them buzzed open and Hero was dragged in.

Their hands were cuffed in front of them with power dampeners, draining far more than their power. Their clarity, their energy all washing away draining to their wrists through clogging veins to make the disgusting cuffs work and keep Hero subdued.

“That will be all. Thank you, gentlemen.”

They dropped Hero in the middle of the room, Hero’s knees hitting the hard stone and slumping there. Useless and stupid. Rival was right. They should have never tried to take Supervillain down on their own, but Hero had to try. They had to try. Superhero was in hospital thanks to this arsehole.

And the worst part was that Rival was right. Supervillain was baiting Hero to come and fight, knowing Hero was emotional, knowing Hero would bite. God, Rival was insufferable enough as it is, when he finds out what Hero did…

Maybe it would be a bigger mercy if Supervillain were to kill them, than endure all the Told you so’s that would be waiting at home.

“You seem distant, Hero. Where’s all that ego now, hmm? That fight in you that delights me.”

Hero held up their cuffed wrists in reply. “I’m tired,” said Hero. “Take these off and we can dance if you like.”

Supervillain just laughed. Hero squinted into the darkness, trying to see the villain’s silhouette. The walls were bouncing off every noise it seemed and Hero couldn’t see Supervillain.

Maybe he wasn’t here.

Maybe that was a good thing.

A hand fisted in Hero’s hair and yanked their head back, craning their neck up to see Supervillain standing above them. A horrible smile painted onto his stupid mask. He kept pulling Hero’s head back and back until it was hard to breathe, but Hero just kept up his glare.

“You are adorable, aren’t you?” Supervillain purred, a bony finger trailing up Hero’s cheek, tracing their jawline and down to Hero’s throat. Hero swallowed in spite of themselves and looked away, Supervillain’s stare was too intense. Too intrusive.

Like he was trying to unearth every secret and lie Hero had ever told and use it against them. Supervillain let go of Hero’s hair and Hero’s head bobbed back straight, their neck sore from the stretch. Finely tailored suit trousers came to stand in front of Hero, before crouching down, a hand on Hero’s chin, tilting their head up to those horrible eyes.

“You must be a hugger,” Hero said, creeped out by how much touching this Supervillain seemed to be doing. Like they were inspecting a prized horse or something. Supervillain’s drawn on smile stayed the same. So it was a surprise when Hero’s head whipped to the side, the sound of a smack echoing off the reverberating walls.

Supervillain’s fingers were grabbing Hero’s chin again tilting their head up and back. Hero didn’t know what to do. They were just slapped. No one had ever slapped them, no one.

Punches? Obviously.

Kicks? Definitely.

Cuts? Too many.

But a slap? Like Hero was some bold child… it felt too… too personal.

“I’m not a fan of glib comments, Hero.”

“I wasn’t—“ another slap on the same cheek, except harder.

“Or back chat for that matter,” said Supervillain, moving to grab Hero’s face again but Hero pushed themselves back on their knees, falling back onto their honkers and away from Supervillain’s hand. Sluggish. Heavy. Not very far.

Supervillain straightened, standing tall and looming over the defenceless Hero and Hero wished they just listened to Rival for once and stayed home.

“You don’t want to do that, Hero,” said Supervillain, taking the whole step closer. That’s how far Hero got away. A single, short step and Supervillain was angry. Chastising. Tutting Hero as they flinched when Supervillain reached out again, putting their hands up in defence.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Hero hissed, which only served in getting another slap and Hero let out a small helpless cry. Supervillain grabbed the chain between the handcuffs and yanked Hero up so they were standing.

“I’ll do what I like to you, Hero. You need to learn your place here. You’ll be here for a long enough time so we might as well get along, hmm?”

A heavy weight pressed down on Hero’s chest at the threat, said so softly. It felt like a hand was gripping Hero’s heart and squeezing it hard. So Hero did what any frightened animal does when backed into a corner. Hero bit supervillain’s hand holding their handcuffs and shoved hard with all their strength, running for the door they came through.

They had to go. They had to leave. They didn’t want to stay here with Supervillain. Please.

Hero slammed their hand on the button of the door like the other Villain’s did and when it didn’t work they cursed and punched the button again and again. “Come on!”

They tried to pry the doors open with their fingers but they wouldn’t budge and Hero screamed their frustration. “Fuck!”

A hand in the back of their collar and Hero was yanked back and thrown to the ground. They rolled with the force of it, before landing on their side, handcuffed hands in front of them. They breathed heavy and deep, trying to calm themselves as Supervillain strolled over. A swift kick to the ribs, followed by another to the face and Hero was thrown onto their back with the force of it. A dress shoe landed square in their chest, pressure building beneath it and Hero struggled to push it off as Supervillain leaned their weight on their leg.

“Let’s not have another outburst like that one again Hero, shall we? Or who knows what the consequences will be.”

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lithiumfae · 1 year

Text

The Sculptured, Chapter 2.

chapter 1 here | interlude here

remus and sirius being cruel to each other, they end up being not so nice to reader. 3.5k words.

“ We should use engorgio skullus so his head matches his unfounded ego,” Offered Peter.

James shook his head, not convinced with what he saw as far too innocent of a hex for the type of person he thought Snape to be. “No, it needs to be something nasty…”

“I still do not understand why we are bothering with all this crap,” Interjected Remus. “I could be studying now, instead of wasting my time thinking about Mister honker.”

“Mate! He is trying to steal your bird!”

“Nobody is stealing anyone. They are friends, and second, she is not my girl!”

The poor old lady that had been working at the library long before Remus arrived at Hogwarts was giving them what could only be described as something way more burning than a side eye. Clearly not amused.

Sirius sighed, rubbing his eyes. “But she could be.”

“Shut up.”

Sirius turned to him. “Okay, let’s say you do not like her, alright, but we can still have fun with Snape.”

At that, Peter perked up. “We could… get them both?” All three heads turned to him, each one with a question written on their features. “You know…”

Sirius sputtered, throwing his hands up in the air. “No we don’t know? Our problem is with the evil man, not her, stupid.”

“I mean! They are friends! How good can she be if she willingly hangs out with him.”

At that, Remus closed the book he had been trying to read for a good half an hour now. “She’s great, Peter. Stop.”

“I’m just saying, no news to get all prissy.”

James let out a small chuckle while looking from Remus to Peter, trying to diffuse the situation. “We are just brainstorming, let’s remain calm,” He cleared his throat. “Besides I want to get him too, for selfish reasons, nothing to do with the girl.”

“I’m so over this conversation! Merlin, my head hurts and you’re making it worse. You lot are childish,” Remus sat up from his seat, getting ready to exit the library. “Who cares about Snape!”

He headed towards the table the librarian was sitting at to hand her the book he hadn’t had the opportunity to read. The lady looked at him with a sour expression before snatching it from his hand. Already annoyed by his friends, he didn’t appreciate her attitude. He turned around purposefully wacking the little stroller she had by her side with his heavy book bag.

“Sorry,” He told her, giving her a sweet smile.

He then heard the sound of chairs moving behind him so he knew his friends were after him. At the speed of light he opened the door, his friends right behind him.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get rid of them that easily, he opted for going towards an empty corridor, already expecting the long conversation that was about to start. Right as he predicted they followed him there, not waiting not even a second before opening their mouths, one after another.

“Lupin! Come on!” Said Sirius. “What’s the problem mate? We’ve always done this?” He looked at Peter for confirmation.

“That we do!”

Remus grabbed his hair and smiled, looking a bit like a maniac. “All you talk about is Snape! What other names have you come with in the past week, huh?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You wake up thinking about him? Do you fancy him? Is that it?”

“Remus, mate, come on now,” James said, smiling at him. “We were just trying to cheer you up.”

“Cheer me up? By talking about the one bloke I can’t stand?” He inhaled. “I– I’m sick, and I feel like all you lot care about is tormenting him. Fucking good friends you are. Have any of you thought of asking me how I’m feeling today? No. That’s right, you never do.”

Opposite to James and Peter’s apologetic eyes and downturned lips, Sirius looked as if he was trying to set Remus on fire.

“We said we’re sorry.”

“I heard you.”

Sirius simply cocked an eyebrow in confusion. To him this sudden outburst came across as unwarranted given their previous conversation and how it wasn’t any different from all the others they had been having for years now. “Alright then, let’s go eat,” He said, shrugging his shoulders and turning around directing his gaze towards the corridor that led to the great hall.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Remus’ voice stopped him in his tracks.

It was James’ turn to intervene again. “Come on, come on. Let’s go grab a bite,” The looks his two friends were sporting warned him that if it– if this, whatever was happening, did not stop now, it was not going to be dramatic bickering for much longer.

“What are you on about?” Said Sirius, ignoring James' futile attempt to diffuse the tension.

“You don’t get it. I practically begged you all to pay more attention to me. Shit friend you are if you spend more time thinking about Snape than wondering if I’m doing okay with all this.”

Sirius laughed, the fake amusement laced with bitterness. “All we ever do is worry about you! It’s what we have been doing for the past six years!”

By now they were having a screaming match, and given they both knew they were talking about his condition, Remus got closer to Sirius. Their noses almost touching.

“Don’t you dare try to say you did it because of a noble reason. When we all know the great Sirius Black only cares about rebelling against his rich parents, and what better way to do it than to befriend a monster,” He whispered. The venom in his voice capable of fooling any Slytherin into thinking Remus belonged in the snake pit along with the rest of them.

“Remus, you are being cruel.”

“Am I lying? Do you think I’m lying, Sirius? You know you would never actually do anything to really piss off your parents… You befriend the wolf, but you don’t tell them he is a wolf,” Remus noticed the way Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed. “Because you’re scared, you’re scared of being alone so you enjoy playing this fantasy in your mind where you are this big, bad, scary man who doesn’t care about what people think of him,” A humorless laugh. “But you care a lot, don’t you?”

“Maybe you should care too.”

“Meaning?”

Sirius’ eyes were glossy with tears waiting to slide down his cheeks. “You are so in your head you don’t even realize the greasy fucker is stealing your bird,” His next words would have been threatening had it not been for the way his bottom lip trembled as he spoke. “I would jump off the Astronomy tower if a git with holes in his robes was so acquainted with the woman I fancy.” He then looked down and gave Remus a quick once over, “But then again, I suppose she is well acquainted with more than one raggedy bloke.”

Funnily enough Remus also thought Sirius could fit in with the snakes if he tried. He refused to let Sirius have the last word.

He shook his head before speaking again.

“It’s not like girls want me for my fancy dress shirts.”

“And what do they want you for exactly?”

“I’ll have you know I’m incredible in bed.”

By now they had acquired a relatively large crowd of students hungry for new gossip material. Eyes the size of the moon. At Remus’ words a couple girls let out audible laughs. Only then did Remus notice their whispering method lasted for some sentences and students could hear them. Sirius and James engaged in dick measurement contests fairly often, but he always opten to stay out of it. Never one for vulgarity.

The embarrassment he felt was to be expected.

“I will also let you know I do not fancy anyone, so shut your mouth.”

In the short time in took him to say those words, the crowd of spectators grew so Remus let himself be dragged away while Sirius swatted James’ hands from his shoulders to then dust himself off and walk right past a group of Ravenclaw students that were looking at him as if he was in the process of growing a second head.

The thing about gossip is that everyone loves it. Wizards and muggles alike.

You would think the fact that students live every day in a castle that looks like it was pulled out of any child’s most exciting fantasies would help distract them from foolish, guilty pleasures like gossiping. but like Professor Flitwick always says, wizards and muggle are similar in the most innocent ways. They all enjoy assuming things.

Voices traveled fast. And by the time she heard the first version of what had happened in the corridor in the morning, she already had more than one question. In her mind the marauders were glued at the hip, and more often than not she was under the impression that they all took turns sharing the same brain. Not that she thought they were stupid but by sharing a brain she meant in the freakish way twins do. They finish each other’s sentences and whatnot.

Although she had always been aware that Sirius and James could not be more different than Peter and Remus, she had never heard a word about them being angry at each other. Truly angry.

Like the niche celebrities they were at Hogwarts, people often had something to say about them, they would all make assumptions that were not always right. But the consensus was that they were like brothers and that they never fought over things that every other friend group fights about. No skirt related issues, no popularity contest between them, and of course, no apathy because of childish occurrences.

So when she heard from none other than Severus about Remus and Sirius almost brawling outside the library, she could not help but mentally scratch her head in confusion and to be quite honest, curiosity.

“Mulciber said Remus is sharing a girl with Sirius,” She heard Rosier whisper when he was recalling the events.

And okay, she was never under the impression that Remus was a puritan by any means, but she felt a little dejected nonetheless. Quicker than she could form her own theory about what the fight was about, her thoughts formulated a cruel self-deprecating joke about her being foolish for thinking that the moment they shared the day prior meant something to him, or at least half of what it meant to her.

But what she lacked in self-esteem she made up for in self awareness. She rationalized her feelings and validated herself a second after her brain had laughed at her.

It is only fair for me to feel let down when I have liked this man for years.

Can you blame a girl for being delusional when the object of my delusions is a teenage version of a desired bachelor?

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked.

“I just thought I’d play my part in stressing them out. I imagine they wouldn’t enjoy people making up rumors about them,” replied Severus.

Severus made a joke yet again surprising her.

Whatever was the cause of their fight meant that it was enough to piss them off to the point where none of the marauders would even look at her for the rest of the day. And like it was mentioned, she claims to be pretty self-aware or at least as self aware as a sixteen year old can be. So she did in fact notice that even though they refused to look in her direction James and Sirius would downright send daggers her way when she asked Severus to sit with her so they could discuss their next potion assignment.

Being perceptive as always, she came to the conclusion that their fight had to be related to Severus on some level. But that wasn’t a foreign occurrence, so she wondered why the anger was directed at her when it was supposed to be all about Snape, like it always was.

It was time for her to feel foolish once again, because why was her mind plagued with four men that she barely knew,in the grand scheme of things they were acquaintances, so why was she so occupied trying to decipher her part in their conflict. She internally laughed.

She ended up assuming she was giving herself much more importance than she actually had in their dynamic and how they went about things. For all she knew she could be suffering a case of you-are-giving-yourself-too-much-credit syndrome. And if she noticed Snape smiling at her a little too much, she didn’t think much of it, after all it had been an incredibly weird and unusual day for everyone at the castle.

It was like they had all been possessed by forest spirits that made them act the furthest thing away from their true self.

She had never been one to have pools of people waiting to hang out with her. She wasn’t lonely by any means, but she didn’t have a group of people who she moved around the school with. She didn’t have girlfriends that would talk about boys with her. She never had people confide in her and vice versa. So she would enjoy sharing little conversations here and there with different students, you could say she was a fan of small talk. Small talk meant easy acquaintances that would help her get through things she wasn not too fond of, for example divination.

She had known Lily from the start. She had always been one to enjoy simple things in life, cookies, spells that kept her toenails from growing, and Lily Evans. Lily was an angel sent from above, sweet, kind and easy to get along with. Probably the only people that didn’t like Lily were the Slytherin gang minus Snape.

When she walked in her divination class, she saw Lily and her sweetheart smile and she naturally walked straight towards her. There were still a few minutes before class started, so students were hanging out with their friends and chatting away the little time they had left. By that time her and Lily were discussing the assignment they had last turned in, that’s when they were interrupted by the famous four. If it wasn’t for their appearance she would have already forgotten about the whole ordeal. She was reminded of the talk that had died down a little bit after lunch. It is not like she was thinking of asking them about it, but she did feel curious when she saw them together walking towards Lily. It was even more puzzling when they ignored her completely.

The entirety of the three years that Sirius had been aware of her existence, he had never passed on the opportunity to tease her. On some occasions the teasing was more innocent than others, but he always made a point of acknowledging her if they were in the same room.

It was not the case this time.

Even Lily noticed them clearly ignoring her. When they asked her what she was doing she kindly tried to add her in the conversation, but they did not budge. If it wasn’t for the barely noticeable nervous look Peter sent her way, she could have said hey, maybe I’m imagining it. But it was safe to say that them refusing to look at her meant something.

Despite the fact that she thought she was well liked enough in the school, she couldn't help but feel blindsided by the blatant animosity that could be perceived in the room. They were being unnecessarily rude to her.

Back to her being so self aware, she did know they despised Severus. But just because she had spent more time with him than usual, did not mean they needed to drag her into the weird conflict they were currently having in their inner circle. She was an innocent bystander, come on.

At times like this is when she was cruelly reminded that she wasn’t all confident like she liked to present herself. Little situations like this one always affected her more than she would like to admit. But she thought that it was only normal to feel tears in her eyes when she was being ignored by the boy she liked. Childish but not unfounded.

“So are you in or not?“ Prodded James.

“Um… I’m not sure, I’m going to Hogsmead with the rest this weekend.”

“Go with me then! It’ll be fun, just us, the blokes and Marlene,” Lily let James hold her hand while they talked. It was apparent that she was already giving in. “I wanted to try the new candy that arrived.”

She softly laughed. “But then Remus and Peter would be third wheeling, if you’re saying we are going together and Sirius is going with Marlene.”

“Remus and Peter can go together,'' the other girl jokingly said, still trying to get them to look at her.

An awkward pause ensued.

James coughed before talking again, “So are you going or not?”

That would have been anyone’s breaking point. Knowing if she didn’t leave the room quickly she was going to burst into tears, she turned around in her seat and promptly stood up to walk out the door. Confused but mostly hurt.

She was trying so incredibly hard not to cry, because what they had just done was what kids would do to her in the playground when they were about five years old. Why did their childish behavior hurt so badly? They were being mean. Which says a lot since she had not used the word mean to describe anyone since she was a toddler that ate sand at the beach.

There were not many students roaming the halls so she allowed herself to lean on a wall and just breathe. She hated losing composure, that was a Gryffindor trait not a Hufflepuff one.

And because her life seemed to be a badly written soap opera, like the ones her mom watched after going back home from her job, of course the one person other than the marauders– that were part of whatever the hell was happening at the moment, appeared. His almost bob was the only thing she could see behind the crystalline water coating her eyes. And also because her life was akin to a low quality soap opera, of course the words that came out of Severus’ mouth were painfully awkward.

“You look pitiful,” always so kind.

She dropped her head to look at the tiles. She was embarrassed, but she was more embarrassed to admit what had made her cry. And if she were to do that she would not admit it to Severus. Don’t get her wrong she liked the bloke, but he is not the one most girls would go to for consolation. At her lack of response he opted to walk a few steps closer to her. Because she was still looking at the ground, she could only see his beat up shoes.

Still refusing to look up, she waited for him to walk away and give up. She did not think today was the day for Severus to have developed social skills.

“It’ll pass.”

“What is it?.” He insisted.

She shook her head scrunching her eyes shut, willing the tears to go away. “I’m just embarrassed, that is all.”

Severus hummed. She thought the words would be enough to make him go away, she hated crying in front of people, she felt like crying accentuated the most shameful Hufflepuff trait. She was not weak.

“I passed by a classroom plagued with the gang of brainless royalty. Would I be right to assume they had something to do with your state?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. She always made a point to ignore Snape’s jabs at the marauders, but she was feeling a little mischievous after what they had just done, so she indulged in the tiny act of malice. “Maybe I just felt like skipping class. Have you ever thought that maybe I’ve been a lazy and mediocre student all along?”

“If that was the case I would say you have fooled me,” he always had this disinterested tone in his voice, like he could not wait to end whatever conversation he had with you, so it wasn’t hard to notice the very subtle tenderness with which he was talking to her at that moment. “Everything alright?” He insisted again.

“I’m just being silly, pay me no mind.”

“Very well,” He said before nodding and bowing his head a little, then walking away.

He had succeeded in distracting her from the urge to sob she was feeling. Very quickly she regretted her decision to storm out of the room in such a dramatic way, because no more than a couple minutes later she changed her mind and thought she was being, perhaps, too dramatic. But she could not go back because the embarrassment was entirely too much.

Since students were supposed to be in class, Filch was already doing rounds around the school grounds. That being his favorite activity because it meant he could inflict despair on unsuspecting teenagers. When he noticed her leaning against the wall, uncharacteristically so, he showed her a frown and followed the same path Snape had taken without telling her to fuck off and go to class.

Everyone at Hogwarts was clearly possessed by forest spirits for the time being and nobody could tell her otherwise.

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