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ronearoundblindly · 1 year ago

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The Stark Legacy (25)

Tony Stark's daughter (OC) x Bucky Barnes epic slowburn

Compound, part of Book III: Power (see previous or series)

Summary: Samantha wakes to find new friends at Avengers HQ, but her uncontrolled abilities make things...awkward.

Warnings for illusions to nudity/suggestive language and some cursing. A/N: Tandy and Tyrone are around Samantha's age in this, so that's way younger than canon-MCU, but their backstory is closer to the original comics. Rated Teen/15+ ONLY, please. WC 3.7k

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE—April 2039

“They called it Regulating,” Bruce announced, rewinding the faint footage from the second floor of the Wakandan Annex Lab, “according to the recovered video research from Aldrich Killian—well, the military, really.” He smirked, looking quickly back at Bucky, adding, “Tony thinks I wasn’t listening, which I wasn’t for part—you get it, he’s very long-winded.”

“He’s not the only one,” Bucky grumbled, eyes fixed on the screen. Bruce played it again.

Two grainy figures in the corner of the frame, Bucky and Samantha, scuffled as she tried to avoid riding the motorcycle. The light Sam emitted grew brighter until his own figure was blotted out and smack—the video fell gray. The moment passed, and the absolute white that replaced it lasted much longer. Eventually, the white faded to reveal Sam standing with her arm out, legs apart and planted. She remained standing only a few seconds longer before collapsing. Her body tumbled in the receding water, covering her in mud, Bucky’s legs slid into the top of frame before catching against the earth. The picture went blurry as the fog of the freshly evaporated sea descended. There was, however, a clearly visible, irregular line where the thick glass of the building’s window had melted in the bottom corner near Sam.

Bruce stopped the footage. “Except when Extremis soldiers couldn’t Regulate, their bodies incinerated themselves and anything around them. This—” he waved his arm through the projection, “—she’s controlling—well, aiming it, I think. And she survived obviously, which means this is something new.” The doctor, jumpy with unanswered questions, uneasy since Bucky first told him they were coming back with ‘complications,’ shuffled over to another desk to pull up a different file. “I keep trying to get a signal to Tony’s suit, but it’s always garbled so far. Shuri didn’t seem to know much about Sam’s physiological alterations.” Banner rubbed his temple. “We are gonna need more than a little—I mean, the bullshit this girl did to herself…”

Bucky turned towards Banner’s ominously lowering voice. He had not heard Hulk’s deeper octave come out of Bruce in years. Bucky watched his friend hold his breath as he willed the sickly green hue to bury itself deep inside again. Bucky could relate to the bloom of anger and the sting of helplessness when faced with the problem of Samantha Stark.

Banner slammed a flesh-colored fist down, rattling some equipment. “I shouldn’t have sent her to Wakanda.”

“Doc, I think she did part of this before we left.” And the rest is probably my fault, he added internally. “It’s not something you could control.”

Bruce peered up at Bucky over the thin rims of his glasses. “In which case, biologically speaking, Sam Stark has been gone for a while.”

Bucky swallowed hard.

He knew that to be true, deep down, but he couldn’t shake Tony’s face, resigned to walk into an ocean with a king out for blood, all for hope that his daughter would remain safe. Bucky had already failed him because there was no Sam to protect, not the Sam Tony knew. Someone, something else lay in the infirmary, and it was his fault. It was Bucky’s choice to take her out before Shuri could come up with a plan. He took advantage of Sam’s interest in replacing his arm instead of her own health. He paid so little attention to her when she needed to be pulled back from the edge; Sam thought it more important to fix her scars then to live, thought fixing Bucky’s scars and self-confidence was worth what was left of her life. How could he have missed it? Bucky Barnes, the King of Self-Sacrifice, the epitome of a life forfeit, overlooked the signs of giving up.

His gut coiled uncomfortably remembering his life after Hydra before Steve found him in Romania. Bucky spoke to no one unless absolutely necessary. He bartered to live in a shitty apartment by doing maintenance for the landlord. He helped tenants move their furniture and heavy boxes in and out for a little cash in order to buy food. He rotated between food stalls at different markets so that no one saw him enough to recognize him. Most of his downtime was consumed by writing in notebooks, writing everything he could remember about who he was and what he had done since. At night, he planned his escape if Hydra should find him. He even had three plans for his own termination, if the choice was be captured again or die. That life was what he had ‘woken’ up to, and it was barely a life at all.

Bucky tasted acid at the memory. Bruce remained hunched over the metallic table, steadying his breath.

“So,” Bucky tossed into the silence, “we wait until she wakes up?”

“Yeah,” Bruce threw up his hands, “then what?”

Bucky had no answer for the doctor this time.

Sam heard music in the darkness. Her mouth was unbearably dry, the fibers of her skin and muscle braided tight down the length of her throat. It wasn’t just her head that throbbed, but her whole body felt shrunken, clenched against her skeleton. Her brain was filled with fog and fire.

Sam opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. This was not the Palace.

“Hey,” Sam heard off to her right, turning to see a young blond woman rise from a chair against the other wall. “You’re ok.” The infirmary of New York Headquarters was quiet, as it was when she came to wake Sam Wilson, as it was when she recovered from glass cuts and electric burns when she was four. The music was much faster than those times, heavier, full of angst and screaming but at a low volume.

The air in the room: she could feel it flow across her forearms. The sheets beneath her calves: she could feel each fiber of thread. The input of feeling overwhelmed her, and Sam didn’t realize she was squirming until the voice put a firm hand against her stomach.

“Calm down,” the blond girl leaned over her to say, trying to catch her gaze as Sam’s focus shot to place after place in the room. “Samantha, I’m Tandy, and you’re safe here.” Her other hand touched Sam’s forehead.

“Why—” was all Sam could push through her desert mouth. She gently tensed her abs to hint that she wanted to sit up. She kept looking around until staring only at each tiny feature of the new face. He used it, didn’t he? The words wouldn’t come out. Missy knew I would need it. Sam mimicked sticking a needle in her arm and pressing the plunger, hoping the question in her eyes made it clearer.

“Sam, slow,” Tandy tried, corralling her with skinny little arms. “Do you want me to get the nurse?” The girl stopped Sam before she could hop off the bed, trying to swat the restraining arms away before two lights stopped her.

Her own arm was red-orange and glowing. So he did use it, and I don’t feel sick anymore. Why do I feel so heavy? Why are her hands shining white? A gentle peace flowed from Tandy’s arms into Sam. The razor cuts of air and the scratch of her throat dulled.

“Are you Extremis, too?”

“No,” Tandy smiled, “something else did this to us.”

Sam’s mind went blank of her questions, filled with the warmth. How long has it been? A few days? How long did the proliferation take? Where’s my tablet? Phone? Where’s Missy?

“What do you remember?” Tandy asked calmly, her white hands growing brighter while Sam’s returned to beige.

“I—I fell in the forest.” The soothing touch smothered the fire in Sam’s mind and body, but the fog persisted. “I think…”

“You fought a ts-tsunami and won. That’s the coolest shit I’ve ever seen.” This was a different voice, deep and forceful, from a young man Sam hadn’t realized was in the corner by the door. He had dark skin that appeared to suck light from the air, out of focus; he smiled, eyeing Tandy and Sam in amusement. He reminded Sam of Lucas for a moment, but then, when the light faded from Tandy, he approached, and Sam saw genuine kindness.

“That’s Cloak,” Tandy said smiling.

“Tyrone,” the boy corrected, and his face came into focus without the odd bending of light. “She’s-s Dagger.”

Tandy stepped back towards the door, pausing her music. “Would you like to move to your room now? Or you wanna get some food with us?”

Without Tandy’s soothing touch, Samantha felt her throat squeezing, parched. “Water,” she croaked out, “would be good.”

At a table in the large atrium outside the small, residence kitchen, Tandy regaled Sam with a slew of stories the rigorous training from Parker, Rogers, and Maximoff. They were nervous about training with Romanoff now that Nat had returned from China. Sam, for her part, noticed that the tables were no longer as shiny white as when she was very young, when the plastic was new, and there were some chips in the paint around the tall windows. The light seemed harsher, piercing. She sipped, gulped, then chugged four glasses of water before uttering a word.

Tandy could control emotions with direct physical contact, which is what she did to Sam in the infirmary, and was working on throwing, aiming, what she described as Light Daggers. Sam could practically hear Uncle Peter’s exclamations of awe; he still called things ‘lit’ from time to time, so he was likely having a field day commenting on his young protege’s power. ‘Cloak’ referenced Tyrone’s ability to teleport inside a cloud of darkness, absorbing light and energy from around him. This was why he appeared darker and out of focus in a well-lit room; he could legitimately hide in the smallest shadow. Tandy described him as ‘the ultimate stealth operative.’ Tyrone said nothing of this himself and watched Sam for a long while before turning to listen to Tandy, a girl alive with excitement.

When they started discussing ‘the wave’ and what that meant Sam could do, however, his interest became apparent with his sudden focus on Sam’s response.

“I don’t remember,” Sam shrugged, aware of Tyrone deflating in disappointment. “I’m not kidding. The last thing I remember is falling over in the woods. Pretty sure that was…March first?” She didn’t say why she was in the woods, or what she did to Bucky’s arm on February 28th to sear the date in her mind. She thought she could see a sunset, or a sunrise, when she closed her eyes to think about it, but beyond a flash of sky behind leaves was a horrible ringing in her ears. Sam wanted Missy, who would have wiped her drives by now and scattered. She had to find her.

“Well, today is the sixteenth,” Tandy bubbled.

“Jeez, was I in a coma? Did my body try to reject Extremis?” There was a general clearing of throats in response, as if Sam’s dry mouth had spread.

“Of April.”

Tyrone assessed Sam again. It made her feel as if she were expected to break apart in front of him. Sam defied Tyrone’s expectations by remaining calm on the outside. She blinked but didn’t speak right away.

After her pause, Sam took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, I’m in wild need of a coffee then.” And a couple of shots of whisky couldn’t hurt…

Tandy laughed, jumping up to get Sam whatever she wanted.

These new friends were like nothing Samantha had ever known. They were close to her age, closer than any of the Bartons; they were being trained as Avengers, so they didn’t need Sam’s name to gain anything; and they never judged her for what she didn’t know. Because this whole ‘world of the professional Avengers’ was new to all three, everything was a bonding experience. Sam didn’t recognize most of the music they played or movies and shows they loved, but she was open to whatever they wanted to do. She knew zero celebrities, except for her obvious uncles and aunts.

After that first day, they never mentioned Tony Stark unless Sam did first, which was rare. Sam usually went very quiet when she was about to recount a story involving her dad, a mixed look rolling over her features then vanishing. She wanted to talk about him, but when she tried, Sam suddenly became a twelve-year-old girl again, the great Iron Man awkwardly standing over her, uninterested in anything she said. Sam wanted to feel good when she spoke of her father which meant she didn’t speak of him.

Luckily, Tandy and Tyrone favored making new memories, too, so her jealous, aging beauty queen mother, and his best friend shot by a Boston cop were also not discussed, nor how they became…special. Sam only found out those tidbits of their pasts while she searched for traces of Missy online. She searched as secretly and thoroughly as she could but had found nothing after weeks. It was a long process to hide what she was doing amongst genuine searches related to her training.

Sam was tentatively mapping server locations where Missy may have pinged when her friend blurted, “can I cut your hair?” Tandy idly messed with Sam’s unkept regrowth. She hadn’t touched it since waking on the floor in Massachussetts after first injecting herself. “You’ve got a ducktail going back here, and it’s not exactly flattering,” the blond coaxed.

“Whatever you want, Dee,” Sam mumbled, lulled by the gentle touch in her hair. She hadn’t had a haircut in over a year, back when Annie insisted on a salon day for her bridesmaids. The incessant, high-pitched laughter, the gossip, and the roar of a dozen dryers had taken all of the pleasure out of someone massaging her scalp.

“Hear that, Ty? Sam trusts me with her hair.”

“You’re s-s-still not touching mu-mine.” Tyrone flipped through some news articles while eating cereal, his favorite afternoon snack. They also didn’t discuss his stutter.

Tandy’s frown was audible, even from behind Sam’s head, and Sam smirked. She enjoyed their banter, all day, everyday.

“Sam, you wanna wet your hair for me? I’ll get scissors,” Tandy said to perk herself back up. “Come on.” Her gaze shot back playfully to Tyrone. “Don’t choke on your Fruit Loops while we’re gone. No one will save you.”

Tyrone brandished his middle finger on his spoon hand. He didn’t look up.

The girls headed off to Sam’s room, since Tandy’s was farther down the hall.

“Not that you have to,” Tandy started as they bounced along, “but you might want to take a full shower. You’re a bit ripe after today’s training.”

Sam laughed anyway. Only Tandy could critique her while making Sam happier. “Yeah, you don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“But you’re a punk who needs my help,” Tandy saluted Sam and excitedly trotted down the hall.

The door took her handprint, a newer feature. The tiny twin bed inside cradled the same watercolor blotched comforter Sam slept under since she was four. She took it to the Barton’s originally, but by eight years old, she abandoned it here at Christmas. Thirteen, the year after Sam chose Mistress as a present, that was the year Nat stopped decorating her room with lights. True to form, no one had touched it but her since. The comforter was worn thin, the corners threadbare, but it felt familiar when nothing else, not even her own body, did.

Sam kept the habit of owning little clothing from her time in Wakanda, though the clothes were not as baggy on her now that she ate whole foods.

She’d never exercised so much in her life.

Since no fighter in the building trusted her to attempt using her new abilities, Bruce proposed Samantha’s more ‘human’ strengths be developed and tested. She spent her mornings running while Big Sam watched and timed her increasing speed and endurance. It didn’t matter that she could do it; she hated running all the same.

Afternoons were hand-to-hand combat with Natasha, a particularly humbling experience since Sam could not think of anyone she was more afraid to hit. Nat may have stopped visiting her in the hospital three years ago, but that anger did not translate to stupidity. They don’t name you Black Widow for nothing.

Sam flopped a change of clothes onto the bed and popped into the shower, leaving the bedroom door open for Tandy to come back in. She hap hazardously scrubbed and rinsed, never much caring about the relaxing effects of washing. Sam had spent so many hours ‘relaxing’ in a regeneration cradle full of nutrient gel, she could do with never relaxing again. She was quick to throw on a towel and swing open the bathroom door simply to move on to fun with Tandy, but she was no longer alone.

It wasn’t Tandy who’d come in though.

“I knocked, but the door…” Bucky Barnes stood looking around her room, and while she’d seen him since waking up, he had never been inside her personal living space.

Sam stumbled over the small lip at the bathroom threshold, knocking her shoulder on the doorframe. A corner of her towel fell, and in her attempt to grab the falling fabric, she clenched the wrong end, lifting the bottom of her towel up high enough for half of her backside and chest to hang out.

“Holy shit,” she exclaimed, shutting her eyes as hard as she could pinch them, awkwardly hunching to push as much fabric over her as possible.

She thought she heard him say “you’re okay,” but the damage was already done.

Sam’s glow of shame spread to her left arm—the only appendage not reinforced with vibranium—igniting the terry cloth towel she held tight. She tried not to pay attention, to hum something soothing and back into the bathroom with some semblance of dignity, but to no avail.

Her unexpected guest ripped the smoking fabric from her body and started stamping it out on her bedroom floor.

Bucky pressed something silky against her shoulder. Sam clamped her arms across herself and cracked a single eye open, hoping she wouldn’t light the whole room on fire.

“Brought you something. Figured you’d need it.” Bucky’s eyes were glued to the floor. He held out a slinky looking jumper of navy blue material. It touched her skin but still felt cool.

Sam snatched it, slamming the door between them.

“Banner found this fabric in the Baxter building after the Four…” he yelled through the wall before clearing his throat. “Human Torch needed clothing that wouldn’t burn up, and Bruce figured so do you.”

She took the time she spent squeezing into the legs of the leotard to calm down. “Does this mean I get to train for real? Seriously?” Excitement replaced embarrassment until she had a thought. “Wait—you knew I’d burn my…”

“Yes, but I didn’t see anything.” When Sam threw open the door again, he rushed to the hallway door, eyes still turned down.

“What?” The elephant sitting on Sam’s chest shifted pressure to her stomach. She felt a little sick.

Bucky didn’t turn around but must have felt guilty enough to offer his best attempt at an explanation. “Bruce knows the temperature you can reach when you—he calls it Deregulate, but I—you were covered in mud. I saw nothing in Wakanda. Promise.”

In her terror, Sam sensed more was required to embarrass the Winter Soldier. “But…”

“But…I had to carry you back,” he softly admitted. Then Bucky changed the subject abruptly, adding, “your training starts with me tomorrow, and we’re going out. We’re starting slow.”

Sam’s cheeks caught fire, or might as well have. She was grateful Bucky still faced away. The tall, dark haired behemoth at her bedroom door just admitted to carrying her around naked while she was unconscious, then he chose the worst possible wording for his follow-up statement. She couldn’t process all the implications at that moment.

“Meet at the garage at six,” Bucky said, opening the door. “I know you’re not a morning person, but we have a ways to drive.” With one last look directly at Sam, he added with a smirk, “no bikes. Promise.”

Sam vaguely recognized the Boy Scout’s honor sign in the hand he raised but was too shocked to care. Tandy stood outside, eyes indiscreetly wide.

The blond giggled before she shut the door. “Oh, there’s a story there,” she squeaked, eyes landed on Sam’s new outfit, adding, “and this is…hideous.” Tandy’s immense disappointment released in a dramatic sigh. “At least Ty has some fashion sense. He would never give you this to wear. Why the hell would you need something so unflattering?” Tandy tossed her own hair back in distain before brandished her comb and scissors, smiling.

Sam stood slack-jawed, unable to answer. Her mind raced to recall any poorly worded comments she might have let slip in subsequent conversations she and Captain Barnes had since their return stateside, but nothing stood out. He was perfectly friendly, he never looked at her strangely, and so it seemed to matter very little to Bucky personally that he had…done that. Sam concluded he was mostly sparing her the embarrassment of flaring off her clothing again, this time in front of people who might not be as indifferent. That’s…nice, I suppose. He’s a nice guy…to everyone.

“Sam, you ok? You look pretty pale.” Tandy handed her the fresh clothes she’d set on her bed, subtly nudging her to get out of the fashion faux-pas of the tight onesie.

Certainly not alright. “Yup, just tired from the run.” She strategically layered the regular clothes over the flame-retardant fabric. She no longer questioned why they had babied her interactions so far; Sam was a hazard until she could properly control herself.

“Sit down,” Tandy demanded happily, “we’ll get coffee and show you off after.”

Not nearly as much as I just showed off. Sam lamented no longer having Missy as her personal security system. Missy would never have let this happen.

[Chapter 26: Capacity]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#the stark legacy #tony stark's daughter #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #slow burn #slow build #epic tale #avengers fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #cloak and dagger

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 2 years ago

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MCU News, part 1

For those of you not keeping up with San Diego comic con I'll update you on upcoming MCU projects covered in their panels.

First, now on Disney+: Logan, Deadpool, Deadpool 2

Second, Phase 4 ends with She-Hulk & Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

Upcoming animated shows:

I Am Groot (August 10, 2022)

5-episode series

Confirmed: Bradly Cooper will voice Rocket Racoon

Confirmed: 5 more episodes will be out, date to be determined

Trailer:

youtube

What If...? Season 2 (Early 2023)

Attendees were shown the first episode of the new season, “Captain Carter vs The Hydra Stomper”

Confirmed characters: Captain Carter, Iron Man, Hulk, Mandarin, Black Widow, Odin, Winter Soldier, Hela, Star-Lord, Hydra Stomper, Ego, The Scarlet Witch, Valkyrie

Reportedly Elizabeth Olsen will voice Wanda Maximoff

Rumor: In Captain Carters universe Dreykov that runs the Red Room, but Melina Vostokoff does.

9-episode series

Confirmed: Season 3 is in the works

X-Men ‘97 (Fall 2023)

Continuation of the original X-Men show from the 90′s

Continuity issues will be fixed

Confirmed characters, X-Men: Magneto, Rouge, Gambit, Wolverine, Jubilee, Cyclops, Storm, Jean Grey, Beast, Sunspot, Morph, Cable, Bishop, Forge, Nightcrawler

Confirmed characters, Villains: Val Cooper, Sebastion Shaw, Mr. Sinister, Emma Frost/White Queen, Calisto

10-episode series

Confirmed: A second season is in the works

Spider- Man: Freshman Year (2024)

Tom Holland will not voice Peter Parker/Spider-Man, but Charlie Cox will voice Daredevil.

Takes place in a different universe, a sorta 'What if' scenario

Characters confirmed: ?, Amadus Cho, ?, Peter Parker, Nico Minoru, ?, ?, Harry Osborn, Aunt May, Doctor Strange

Characters confirmed, Villains: Rhino, Scorpion, Tarantula, Butane he Pyromaniac, Doc Oc, ?, Tombstone, Speed Demon, Chameleon, Norman Osborn

Confirmed: A sequel series, “Sophomore Year” is in the works

Marvel Zombies (2024)

Confirmed to be rated MA due to violence

Confirmed Heros: Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop, Jimmy Woo, Shang-Chi, Kamala Khan, Death Dealer, Red Guardian/Alexei, Katie

Confirmed Zombies: Scarlet Witch, Ghost, Hawkeye, Okoye, Abomination, Captain Marvel, half of Captain America, Ikarus

Rumor: a biker gang of Skrulls as well as a team of Black Widows make an appearance

Upcoming live action projects:

Secret Invasion (Spring 2023)

Confirmed cast: Samuel L Jackson, Cobie Smulders, Don Cheadle, Emilia Clark

Said to be interesting to views because 'you will not know who is a skrull and who is not'

Blade (November 3, 2023)

Confirmed cast: Mahershala Ali, Delroy LINDO, Aaron Pierre

Daredevil: Born Again (Spring 2024)

Confirmed to return: Charlie Cox & Vincent D’Onofrio

18-episode series

Captain America: New World Order (May 3, 2024)

Will explore what makes someone Captain America

Thunderbolts (July 26, 2024)

Will conclude phase 5

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mrsbarnes107 · 4 years ago

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Secret of the Widow

-part four-

Summary: Post Endgame time period. The team is healing, trying to navigate this new normal they’ve found themselves in when Bucky and Sam bring home a stray with an attitude and a secret. Will the broken team take her in? Or is it too much to bare?

Warnings: language, *eventual* violence and smut, death, fluff, angst

Pairings: Bucky x OC

Disclaimer: this is posted to Wattpad as well and it WILL HAVE PLOT. I’m a Bucky hoe so there will be smut and romancy stuff but this is a series, so plot plot plot.

Six sets of eyes darted between me and Fury. A different emotion flashing in each one. The eyes that concerned me most stared right back into mine, unblinking and silent.

"You're a Romanoff? Like- like Nats sister?" Banner barely managed to stutter it out. I knew his eyes held a deep sadness, but I didn't look away from the man that witnessed her death, the man that carries it every second of the day.

Tilting my head in the doctors direction I answer him steadily. "Romanoff. Like Natashas daughter."

The typically docile man slams his fits on the table, standing fast enough to send his chair flying into the wall. "No. Fury how dare you come in here- how dare you bring her up like this. Nat couldn't have children. Why are you really here?" The doctors voice rose with every sentence he ground out, his voice dropping an octave with each heaving breath he took. The other team members shock soon gave way to concern as they look to their green friend. Bucky and Fury both angling their bodies slightly in-front of mine.

I finally broke connection with Clint to look at Banner. "Doc you need to cool down. You might be Banner and Hulk, but don't let the rage control you."

Before Banner can reply I glance around the group and address them. "If you don't believe me, or Fury, or even Wanda.. ask Clint." My eyes find his again. "Hawky, you've been silent this whole meeting, studying me since you walked in here." I tilt my head and squint my eyes in curiosity. "You knew Nat better than anyone in the world. Do you think I'm lying?"

The room collectively held their breath. Besides Banner who was still trying to reign Hulks rage back in.

Clints pain was written across his face, yet his eyes held questions, held the hurt of not knowing this piece of Natasha. "You're not lying sweetie. The second I saw you, I thought I was looking at Natasha fifteen years ago." His breath hitched and he cleared his throat, apparently he wasn't finished. "You look so much like her, I've been trying to figure out how it was possible. Why she never told me." He shakes his head, the smallest hint of a smile gracing his lips for a moment as he huffs out a laugh. "Man, you even sound like her you know? Same fire, same wit. I see it in your eyes."

Banner has effectively calmed himself back down, having gone to retrieve his chair that he is now slumped over in.

Clint clears his throat loudly, all trace of sadness hidden for the moment. "Hm unfortunately I can also see Stark in you too. You've got his sass and wise cracking attitude it seems." He smirks as he says this, making the somber mood dissipate.

"Thankfully that's not all I got from him, also have a killer mind and good music taste if I do say so myself." Seeing Fury's nod the room chuckles a bit remembering the two Avengers they lost not too long ago.

Banner seems to have shut down, barely getting out his question. "If you're your Nats daughter, why all the secrecy about your identity?"

This prompted Sam to add on to what Banner said. "I don't understand that either. You spent years with Tony and he never said a word to anyone, he cared for you just as Fury seems to. Nat obviously knew of your existence. So why spend years working alone, knowing all of us yet never allowing us the same to you."

Fury took over from there.

"When Natasha was fifteen, she secretly gave birth to a baby girl. That little girl was left outside a hospital with only a name. At this time, Natasha wasn't on SHIELDS radar, so the baby was lost to the world." Fury sets his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, before he starts a slow walk around the room, ever the drama king.

"A few years later Natasha is pulled from the fire and becomes our top agent. We learned of the baby and spent weeks tracking her down. We found this tiny, red headed girl in the middle of nowhere Romania. I adopted her."

An authoritative glance around the room kept the occupants attention as I took sip of water, hiding the stuttering of my heart. Buckys eyes strayed to my chest for a moment, then my face. His curiosity and concern ran deep with the watery depths of his eyes. As I met his gaze all I could think of was how sad it was to have those eyes not recognize me.

I turn back to Fury as he continues, still feeling Buckys gaze.

"You see, Natasha wanted to protect her child, save her from the torment she herself was about to go through. So she gave her up. And it almost destroyed her. When Natasha came to SHIELD Ali was only five, she asked me to make sure her daughter was safe, that she was happy." He looked to me for a moment before pressing on.

"Natasha has seen the darkest parts of this world, and she didn't believe she would be a good enough mother. She didn't believe she deserved the love of her daughter. Ali met her mother only once, the moment Natasha looked into her eyes, as her baby ran forward and hugged her legs, she couldn't bare to put her in the line of danger. Natasha knew what her life had become, so she entrusted me."

Fury came over and swiped my glass, chugging my water, chuckling quietly as I roll my eyes at him. "Natasha had made a lot of enemies at that point. She wanted me to raise Ali in a safe environment, nurture her joy and her mind, and she wanted her to be trained to protect herself. Natasha oversaw everyone who had access to her: teachers, trainers, guards. She had to approve all of them. She told them what to teach her and scared them to death if they even looked at Ali wrong. Her top priority was keeping her out of the public eye and unknown to her mother's enemies and past. So she was deemed classified."

My breath hitches the tiniest bit at this. I never knew she watched over me to that extent. All these years she had been there, in the shadows of my life, the mother I always wanted and never knew I truly had, in our own little way.

I stop that dangerous line of thought before my eyes can mist over, not paying attention to the sharp eyes set upon me.

"Once Stark found out, the sneaky bastard, Natasha about strangled him to the grave. But he convinced her, he said that her daughter had the makings of greatness, but her mind needed nurtured as well as her spirit and body. He told her that Ali was combat ready, but she needed his guidance and his friendship to thrive. Natasha eventually relented. Ali was raised by two unqualified men and the ghost of her mother. Hidden away until she was old enough to fight this worlds battles."

Clints piercing gaze swept across my features then up to Fury. "Was she ever going to tell us?"

Fury looked to me, giving me a silent nod when he saw my clenched jaw and closed expression. He knew this was a touchy subject. "Natasha decided to bring Ali into the open, she wanted to introduce her to you all, to herself officially. After years of watching her train and grow, years of reading her mission logs, and then finding out about her year of taming the super soldier-" at this Fury sends me a glare, this was in fact a touchy subject for him as well. I gave him a small smile and a shrug, wanting him to continue. "-Natasha decided she was ready for the team."

He looked to Clint now. "Then the snap happened." At that everyone turned to look at you.

#avengers #avengers fic #black widow #bucky barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #captain america #endgame #marvel #spiderman #the falcon #enemies to lovers #bucky x oc #iron man #thor #wanda maximoff #tony stark

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izzierenee13 · 3 years ago

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Morpho: Clint Barton x OC

LIZA’S POV

2012

“Explain to me again, what exactly do you want this reactor to do?” I asked my lovely father as he showed me the blueprints to an underwater reactor he was going to build, presumably soon. He and I both knew I understood his plans, but just wanted to hear him say it again, and so he did. It was no question, I shared my fathers brain, his wit, but I was more skilled than he was. That was his own fault though, since I could walk I was in various combat training classes, having high ranks in most, I was a trained marksman and I could hack the most secure buildings in the world. I also had my powers, I forget about those sometimes though.

As he finished his explanation of the reactor, my phone rang, usually I’d ignore it but Phil Coulson doesn’t call people unless it’s important. “Hey Dad, I have to get this.” I stood up from the computer in the lab, my tone slightly worried. He nodded and went back to checking the prints a millionth time.

“Agent Stark.” I answered, a standard greeting for any SHIELD calls I got.

“Stark, we need you to come in.” Phil sounded panicked, and Phil Coulson never panicked.

“Phil, I’m in New York, with my dad, can’t work wait until my week off--” I was cut off.

“Barton’s been compromised.” That sentence was all it took to cause anxiety and panic to course through my body. “And please, ask Tony about project TAI. He’ll know what to do.”

So I did, and not even an hour later, I was in a Stark Industries helicopter, landing on the bridge of a SHIELD helicarrier. As I got out of my ride, I was greeted by one third of my crew, Natasha Romanoff, and Doctor Bruce Banner. “Nat!” I was a mess, ever since Phil told me Clint had been compromised, I’d been crying, just pulling myself together the last ten minutes of the flight. I ran over to my red headed best friend and threw my arms around her. I was one of, maybe two, people in the world she would hug. “Have you seen him?”

She hugged me back, “No. I haven’t, but we’ll find him and we’ll get HIM back.” She pulled away from the hug, “Agent Stark, this is Doctor Banner,” She introduced me to the man, who just witnessed me be vulnerable. I instantly put on my ‘Agent Face’ and greeted him.

“Agent Elizabeth Stark, your work on anti-electron collisions is...unparalleled.” I stuck my hand out for him to shake, internally I was fangirling. On top of being one of SHIELD’s top agents, I had degrees in Thermonuclear Engineering, Physics, and Literature.

“Thank you, Doctor Bruce Banner,” He shook my hand, “Stark as in…?”

“Yes, Doc, my father is Anthony Edward Stark, and my does he know it.” I giggled slightly. The three of us started walking along the bridge, coming up on a quinjet that had just landed. Out stepped my favorite awkward man and America’s first super soldier. “Phil, I see you’ve called in..” I trailed off, knowing what he was doing, why he was bringing us here.

“That I have Liza. That I have.” He smiled and gave me a side hug. It wasn’t a secret how close the “three assassins” were, especially me and Clint.

Nat approached us from talking to a fellow agent, “They need you inside, they’ve started running the face trace.” She directed at coulson.

Third Person POV

Captain America was on the ground fighting with Loki, while Black Widow and Morpho were in the quinjet, manning the jet and trying to get Loki to drop the sceptre. Eventually, with Iron Man’s help, they contain Loki and head back to the helicarrier from Germany.

All of a sudden, Loki is in the hands of his brother, Thor. A fight ensues, and Morpho wonders if she should teleport down to help contain Loki, but decides against it.

Morpho freezes when she sees Hawkeye for the first time since getting that dreaded phone call. Morpho and Black Widow fight Hawkeye until he gets knocked out, Morpho staying with him and eventually taking him to the medical wing after the fight, which got the Hulk to come out, ended.

A day later, Thor, Iron Man, Hulk, Captain America, Hawkeye, Black Widow, and Morpho are fighting Loki’s army of the Chitauri. Black Widow is about to close the portal when Iron Man cuts in, “No. Wait.”

“Stark, these things are still coming!” Captain America warns.

“”I’ve got a nuke coming in, it’s gonna blow in less than a minute and I know just where to put it.”

“Dad..that’s a one way trip.” Morpho stands in the middle of the street, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I know. I love you, my little butterfly.” He says as he disconnects his comms and flies the nuke into the portal.

Liza’s POV

Once we had fought, and fought, we had finally sat down to eat some shawarma at this little place in Queens. We were all just talking amongst ourselves, I was currently going off on my dad for trying to sacrifice himself, while casting an illusion to hug Clint, Nat and Bruce, we all needed it. As soon as my illusions dropped, Thor cleared his throat.

“Lady Liza, I have an announcement to make that will interest you, most of all.” He started, “There is a reason I was on Midgard, other than my little brother. I was to come find my long lost sister Tyr, tell her of her origins, and bring her home so the Allfather and Allmother can explain their actions.”

“I love you Thor, but how does this involve me?” I questioned, being genuinely curious about the whole predicament. There was no way in heaven or hell I was Tyr...it would explain my magical abilities and why I healed faster and whenever I got sick I was only down for a couple of hours, but no..I couldn’t be.

“Liza, You are Tyr. I was sent, with an image of who and where you are. Heimdall has been keeping tabs on you for years. I understand if you do not wish to talk this over here, but rather somewhere more comfortable.” Thor slightly explained and I simply just nodded, everyone, including myself in a state of shock.

That night we all decided to stay at the Triskelion Barracks, where everyone had a room connected with one big common area. We were The Avengers now, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, we needed a place to stay after long world saving missions, though my father was already in talks with Fury, to change Stark Tower into Avengers Tower.

Thor, Clint, my dad and I were all sitting in the common area waiting for a more lengthy explanation from Thor, Clint and my dad being there for moral support. I looked at Thor, “Please, explain how I’m a norse goddess.”

“It was merely 25 Midgardian years ago, my mother Frigga got pregnant, unexpectedly, as she had not been pregnant since she had me, roughly 28 Midgardian years ago. When my father heard the news, he was ecstatic, but made a political decision for the unborn baby my mother was carrying.” He started, looking at me to make sure I was following, “He decided to send Frigga to earth, have her meet and sleep with Tony Stark, later convincing him she was pregnant with his baby, then she was to leave him, aged 18, to care for the baby until she was ready to take on her royal status.”

“Hold the FUCK UP.” Tony started, “You’re telling me, Carrie wasn’t Carrie, that--my whole relationship was a lie?” He was fuming. I was just as shocked as he was. No matter what though, Tony Stark was still my father.

“I’m sorry, but yes, I hated my father’s logic and wanted to stop him, but I could not.” Thor was genuinely sorry, and I grabbed my dad’s hand to assure him I needed the rest of the story. “As I was saying, the baby girl was to be named as Tony wished, but her Asgardian records were to have her as Tyr.”

“Okay, that explains my powers and extreme strength, but uh-- What-- what am I the goddess of?” I inquired, curious.

“Oh yes! How could I forget, Tyr is to be the Goddess of War, Justice and Law!” He was excited. “I do have a question for you, little sister.” It felt weird to me, Thor calling me a sibling.

“Shoot.” I faked a smile, overwhelmed at the information I had dumped on me, the fact I knew I’d have to talk with this alone with both Tony and Clint, so many things.

“Loki and I leave for Asgard tomorrow, so he can get the punishment he deserves, please come with us, meet your Asgardian family.” He looked hopeful. What would it hurt to meet my actual creators?

“I’ll go.” I answered. With that he stood up and excitedly wished a goodnight to the three of us left.

“Hey, Clint, Can you give my dad and I a couple minutes? I’ll come talk to you when I’m done.” I started and Clint went to his room, leaving Tony and I.

“Dad..” I started, and when I finally looked at him, I saw THE Tony Stark crying.

“You--you’re not--I didn’t make you.” He stuttered over his words.

“I do not give a flying fuck who my biological parents are. You’ve been my dad for almost 25 years now. You. Are. My. Dad. Always have been, always will be. I’m 24, you’re 42. We have the rest of our lives to be father & daughter. I won’t leave you because of this new found ‘family’. You and Pepper and Happy and Nick, you guys are my family. That won’t change.” I went on a small tangent.

He pulled me into a hug, gave me a kiss on the cheek and muttered a ‘thank you’ into my hair. He felt reassured, I knew his anxiety would get the best of his brain after that revelation. He got up and went to his room after that, and I made my way to Clint’s room.

I knocked on the door, he opened it and I instantly walked to him, gave him a hug and started crying. I was exhausted and overly emotional, I wasn’t as closed off as Natasha so me showing Clint my emotions wasn’t weird.

He just held me and listened to me rant about everything that had been dumped on me in the last two days. I almost lost my best friend, found out I was a goddess and I’m not technically human. I kept coming back to almost losing Clint. I couldn’t lose him. He was my rock, my person. I was in love with him, and god damn it, one day I’ll tell him, just not right now.

Once he got me to calm down, he walked me back to my room, and once we got there, “Stay. Please. I leave for another realm tomorrow and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” I asked my best friend. We’d cuddled and slept in the same bed multiple times, platonically.

So he did, we both crawled into my bed, I laid my head on his chest and listened to the sound of his heartbeat. I wished I could stay like that forever. Slowly, we both drifted into sleep.

The next morning after everyone had woken up and got ready, we headed to Central Park to have a send off. Thor and I had taken Loki out of SHIELD custody and were heading to Asgard. Apparently, my magic was the only magic in this realm that could counter Loki’s.

Thor was addressing the group, but really the information was for me, “We’ll be in Asgard for about a week, which is roughly three weeks Midgardian time.Time moved weirdly between the realms as one year here is 53 on Asgard.”

With that, Thor, Loki and I stood on a bridge overlooking a little river, holding a contraption that held the tesseract. I said my goodbyes and gave everyone a hug, spending a little more time on my dad and Clint. When I walked over to my brothers, we twisted the contraption and were off to Asgard.

(BONUSSSSS: THIRD PERSON POV)

Clint and Natasha were walking away from the group when the assassin turned to the Archer, “So when are you gonna tell Liza?” She asked.

“Tell her what?” He looked at his best friend, a quizzical look on his face.

“Oh god, you don’t think I’m stupid do you? Even the Iceman can see it, You’re in love with Elizabeth Stark.”

“I--uh-- what--- I don’t”

“Just tell her before it’s too late.”

_________

A/N:

GAHHHH I HOPE YOU LIKED IT.

Also, if I decide to incorporate movies into this book, it’ll happen like this chapter did, the plot skimmed over in third person. I’m not sure if any other movies are gonna be canon in this, but this one in particular was important to the plot.

-Izzy

Masterlist

Taglist: @hawkeyesbabe

#Clint Barton #Marvel #Avengers #avengers incorrect quotes #Tony Stark #Natasha Romanoff #Happy Hogan #Nick Fury #Fanfiction #Captain America #Thor

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punkandsnacks · 4 years ago

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Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter 17; Highlands Part I

Author: @punk-in-docs & @adamsnackdriver

Also on AO3-

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: No warnings in this chap- slightly naughty bits

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

Everything was soft, and warm. Her whole being is snug and safe and lost. Completely lost to sleep and rest.

Mellowness spreading out through each of her limbs like warm embers of an amber fire or a splash of spicy whisky. As if she’s laying in a bath full of silk rose petals and perfectly warm water.

Best sleep she’s ever had in her life. She owes it to the influence of his being near.

Fur pelts and blankets wrapped around her as she’s slumbering on the velvet bench. Curled up in a swathe of them, Kylo smiles, she’s all bundled up, like a little burrowing bug. Her head slumped onto his strong shoulder. Fine wool of his coat scuffing her pale cheek red.

He had his arm around her back and every now and then leaned over and nuzzled his mouth and nose into her hair. Breathing in the plain perfume that he so adored. Kisses her brow. Hints of salty lavender and sage peppermint soap pouring off her. Her skin and her clothes all amalgamated into the encompassing scent of his Iris. The one that he never could resist. The one he knows so dearly by now.

He’s so glad she’s here.

She’s in his arms. It makes him smile he just can’t help it.

He slept a little - in fits and starts mostly. When she’s so warm and sweetly tempting laying her head on his shoulder how could he not? Nestles his nose into her hair and falls asleep too, with a smile on his face, and calm peace taking up his chest. Spreading through him like clouding smoke.

Every muscle in her body coaxed into that sleepy calm lull by a gently rocking motion that sent her engulfed into dreams, like a newborn being swayed in their rocking cradle.

Its the gentle pitch of the coach as it tumbles over rocky highland roads that does it. Crackles and jolts over the stony lanes that cut through the miles and stretching glory of the emerald glens and the heather strewn hills.

He flickers the curtain back from the window his side with his free hand, and milky sunshine spills gold into the scarlet cabin from a clouded heaven.

He peers out the glass, clouded sunshine snatched at his eyes. Quite a stunning vista awaited his attention. He’s used to fish filled lakes, mountain scenery and the lush impossible green of Bavarian landscape under a searing sky. He was made and formed and still sustained, all these years later, by bitter snow and cold rocky climes. Inbetween layers of sinking crushing snow and pine trees was he was formed. Moulded out of such a savage ground as that of his Nordic homeland.

Scotland has a hint of this too: a savagely beautiful terrain. A vast portion of its wilderness remained.

Hulking mountains, the glitter of a loch in the sunshine. Catching like a cascade of sapphires and diamonds in the sun. Dense forest woodlands and rolling hills crested with purple-pink heather. A native plant, as hardy as the landscape and people it sustains.

The sun chips through the clouds and dapples over the valley of the brown-tawny green mountains they’re travelling between. The loch lies spilled and landlocked in the middle. The sky is clear but the wind is howling and icy, and he can feel it’s bitter gale wrapping around the coach.

Scotland is a land he can recall very little of. His previous tours of England over the years kept him mostly in the southern regions. But he remembers some viking settlements on the coasts, in a time when his clans and kin ruled the seas. Pillagers, plunderers and warriors claiming the land for their own like a wandering pack of rabid dogs.

He remembers being at sea, seeing these shores coming into view. Cliffs clearing out of the misty horizon. Stood at the front of the langskip as it rowed him closer to a new land. Some slithers of his memory can still recall.

The woven tunic rasping his cold skin. The taste of sea salt crusted on his lips. Cruel heavy rain pelting into his braids and stinging his head like a thousand needles. The studded leather cuffs and tunic he wore cold from the exposed elements of a ruthless sea. His usual black fur wolf pelt lining his massive shoulders. He can recall how long his hair was back in those days. Braided and knotted and twined with silver ornaments. Kohl smeared on his already dark eyes. He made quite the picture of a savage.

He was on this island a mere two months before he sailed back home. And fate would set its hand on the path towards him being turned by Draegan during that portentous battle.

How different it all is now. Being here, in these very different, yet same, highlands, all these centuries later. With his perfect love of his life, under his arm. On their path towards matrimony.

However dishonourable their actions to get them here. He would’ve slaughtered the whole county if that’s what it took.

He strongly suspected her mother would be in such uproar by now, she’d send for the police or the local magistrate. He can see it now: some six-horse phaeton being governed at impressive speed, by a stony faced police duty constable, haring it down the hair pin roads after them. Mrs Ashton will have painted him the perfect black hearted villain of the peace. Seducing away her eldest daughter to ruin.

Kylo’s smirking at the thought. How correct it is. Except he will not be such a Byronic blackguard as to seduce her and then abandon her like a stray.

He will bed her with such fierce passion make her his Lady. And by god- this wedding can’t come soon enough for his liking.

He admires the scenery a moment or two longer. Before turning back to her.

He nuzzles his mouth to her forehead. Her warm creamy skin against his mouth and he takes a gentle kiss of it. “Dove?” He calls to her through her sleep. His voice a rumbling hush. Chipping through her engulfing pretty dreams.

Her eyelids flutter and she gently comes too - his mouth a loving press on her temple. His lips are a silky wisp on her skin and it makes a beautiful thrum of conscious delight run through her. He feels it pluck along every nerve in her spine. Like a knife carving and picking through stitched thread. His nearness undoes her so brutally.

Her eyes peel open and he watches the sunshine catch in them. Oakmoss and honey. “We are in the highlands?” She asks.

Voice eclipsed under a husky tone that sleep still clings to. He smiles at her. Tucks a straying curl of hair back behind her ear. Her cheek so pink and warm from her slumber.

“Take a look…” He gestured to the window with a casual nod. Smile glowing with love of her, in such an adorably mussed state.

She rubs the bleariness of sleep away and leans across him to admire the prospect.

The breath is quite snatched from her lungs.

She never knew the scenery of these British isles could differ. For years she’d been the landlocked country miss. So used to the frosted green-brown fields and flat valleys of the genteel farming countryside of the south. The unexciting stretch of her home county.

She never knew a landscape could be this vast. Such huge mountains with golden and green grass and purple heather crawling up them. So high they stabbed into the searing grey of the sky and snow dusts their tips where the icy wind blazes. She’s never seen such colour and brutality in such a vista before. It’s quite a refreshing sight to her innocent eyes.

She cranes her head to catch a glimpse of the loch sandwiched between the mountains. The severity of the grey sky fills the waters. But it still looks like a great stretch of Prussian blue ink. She feels like she’s seeing the world for the first time with wide open and educated eyes.

“Goodness…” She gasps in amazement. Kylo smiles looking at her sweet creamy profile bathed in sunlight. The clouds are roiling in temper in front of the sun, Grey and churning, interrupting the light pouring down from the heavens. Kylo suspects there will be rain soon.

She sits back and unfolds some of her cocooning blankets from her legs. She was quite warm enough when she’s holding his hand. Fingers sloped and tangled together in her lap.

“Whereabouts are we?” She enquires.

“Near Kinlochleven. That peak there…” he gestures out the window with a pointed finger. “Is called Ben Nevis. The highest peak in all of Western Scotland.”

“Without meaning to take a liberty; I thought we were intended for Gretna green?” She asks.

He chuckles and leans over to pluck a sweet kiss on the corner of her mouth. He pulls back and rests his forehead to hers. Nose nuzzled against her cheek.

“Take all the liberties you should like, my love. You won’t offend me so easily.” He tells her.

“I must confess I had considered that if your mother is hateful enough to send someone to stop our union, Gretna Green would be the first place she’d look.” He smiles cunningly.

“I thought we had better err on the side of caution.” He insists. “Not that slobbering hounds from the very bowels of hell could stop me marrying you-“ He drawls lovingly.

“But I thought it best to avoid a nasty encounter if there is one to be had.” He tells. “You don’t mind? Do you?” He seeks with a frown.

“Mind?” She repeats. She leans close and kisses his cheek.

“You could tell me our wedding is being hosted in a ditch and I’d still be delirious with joy.” She tells him.

He chuckles kindly at her sentiments. Smile crinkles up his eyes and cheeks. She wants to follow those sweet dimples with her fingertips. Like trailing well-work paths and lines and dips in a map. Skimming over roads travelled.

“I had planned for a little better than a ditch. I sought out an Inn that looked most comfortable. Rather rustic. I’m afraid it’s not going to be a grand manor house overrun with servants.” He tells her. Preferring honesty over catching her in a lie.

She’s still smiling. “I’m not a grand kind of woman. Cosy sounds wonderful.” She insists. She had no qualms about his doing or acting upon anything that could make her uncomfortable.

“I’d take a cosy wedding with you - over anything cold and grand and proper. Like my supposed wedding to Sergeant Hux would’ve been.”

She could see it all so clearly; a stifling preconception of wedded life.

A big society affair - Maratella and Mama would invite every old matron and stuffy Lord of their acquaintance within a fifty mile radius. Anything to show off the grandeur of the match. They’d be wedded under no less than a hundred pairs of eyes, and the odious, foul-breathed, Reverend Potter, watching them.

With a tepid kiss on the lips and duty done, the party would retire to a wedding breakfast hosted at Cavenham - Maratella would insist. They’d spend the wedding night there before setting off on honeymoon the next day. If there was to be one. Probably some boarding house in Brighton or something that wouldn’t remove them too far away.

Iris shudders at the merest intimation of bedding Hux.

He wasn’t repulsive but if his conjugal manner was as alike in every other cold attitude that he treated her. She was in for an uncomfortable procedure in consummating their marriage. It would be very polite, and sharp and quick. A fumble and an insulting rut and she’d be done with him.

He wouldn’t kiss her. Or lay into her with glimmering affection and wildly consuming love in his eyes. He’d do his duty and then she’s damn certain he’d have retired to his own bedchamber. Leaving her there, sore, bleeding and sticky-warm between her thighs. It completely crushed her heart to think that may have been her existence. Loveless encounters until she was beget with child.

He would never hold her. Never kiss her for pleasure. Never walk into a room she’s in, and not dream about taking her in his arms and kissing her like he won’t possibly survive if he doesn’t. He won’t take her hand and hold it the way Kylo is this very moment.

She doesn’t regret her choice. She’ll never regret her choice.

“I shall defer the grandeur until we get to Ranlor. And you will be cherished and spoiled and treated as a Lady should. As well you deserve to live.” He pledges.

Thoughts and the prospect of her new home fill her with giddy desirous joy. She blushes a little at the warm tone of his words.

“What’s Ranlor like?” She beams.

Oh, they’ve had many a courteous back-and-forth in ballrooms with every matron in the world breathing down their neck. Here there is no pretence or cautiousness;

She needn’t be worried she’ll be remarked upon for gazing at him too long. For smiling too much when he talks to her. He need not show less than what he feels for her. Here, like this, their love is unconfined.

It’s no one but the two of them and he’s absolutely full up of delight to remark upon it.

“It’s the one place I’ve had that’s ever felt like a true home to me. The downfall of an existence like mine. I’ve drifted through so many fine houses and châteaus and dwellings. Such a rootless way of spending life.” He begins.

“You would not want me should you have seen where I grew up. I was raised in a dim timber hut no bigger than ten metres square.” He chuckles lightheartedly.

“I can safely assure you. That wouldn’t deter me.” She tells to the handsome man who owns her entire heart.

She tentatively reaches up to skim her palm down his cheek. Can’t quite fathom that she can touch him like this- adore him. Admire him. All those things she never seemed able to do. Now they are all within her grasp.

He takes that dear sweet hand of hers and holds it to his lips for a second. Kisses her knuckles and a shiver of delight crosses her whole being. Rubs his fingertips along the smooth pink oval stones of her neat fingernails.

“Better finding a home at last than years of living in a place that never quite agrees with you.” She tempers softly. Her whole happy childhood spited and soured by her mothers greed for a good marriage.

He feels that comment deeply from her. “She was very wrong to take that feeling from you. Of your native land. Your centre of being.” He explains. “I should hope she is paying sorely for her mistake of you, and no less.” He observed spitefully. And he means it.

Iris doesn’t blame him for it - rather she empathises greatly. She smiles in her agreement.

“I hope Ranlor Castle will serve well. And in time that you may think of it as your home. Because I would want nothing less than your being satisfied and happy with it.” He hopes.

“The way you speak of it- I don’t see how I could not adore it already.” She tells.

“How long have you been in residence?” Fully expecting his answer to be of a shockingly long timeline.

“Since the late 1500’s.” He casually offers.

“Ranlor was an impulsive purchase of land. I admit. But I was sick of war. Of moving with army encampment from country to country. Sick of living in dirt and wet muck and fighting. I bought it because I wanted to wake up each morning and be the master of the land where I lay my head. To know the view I wake up too, is the same one I shall be greeted with at sunset.” He tells her very poetically.

“I’ve lived in attic garrets, huts made of straw and mud, and postage stamp sized rooms. But by that same token, I’ve stayed as a guest of honour at Versailles. Lived with princes and kings and queens and been a companion warrior to many number of emperors in my time.” He offers. “But in Ranlor I found I appreciated having a place to return to where everything surrounding me is entirely my own.”

Iris is blown away by the stories he must have to tell. “When we sup tonight, I absolutely insist you tell me about some of the places and the people you’ve seen. I am my fathers daughter after all. I am an unabashed glutton for history.” She chuckles.

He takes her chin and brings her face closer to his. Melts their lips into a slow bruising kiss. Passion sparks at her skin and it feels like it bruises her.

“How can I possibly deny such a request?” He drawls against her lips. Breath rasping against her scorched cheeks. Her blood simmering hot under her skin and the smell of it is beautiful-

“I want to know every intimate thing.” She begins. He bites back a groan. Good god, how she’ll have it…

“Keep kissing me like this Iris and I’ll give you anything you want…” He sighs in desiring agony into her lips and wraps his big fingers around the back of her head. Completely dwarfs her skull in his grip.

She clutched at his shoulder - otherwise she’s sure she’d simply float off up to the moon in bliss.

“Kissing you is more than enough. I am wholly satisfied by that alone.” She says when they break away. Not able to deny how alluring he is in this way-

Impassioned to the point of fever. His eyes as dark as storm clouds above them. Calls to mind things like granite, and crows feathers and black leather. Dark but light touches so deep. His lips are a raw sweet-cherry pink and he looks like the starving wolf about to gobble up a baby deer.

“We’ll be near to our Inn soon.” He comments. “We are but ten miles from it I believe.”

She smiles and lays her head on his shoulder. Happy to watch the scenery roll them by. Joining her hand with his again in their lap. He takes up a vast proportion of the velvet bench but she cuddles nicely into his side. He kisses her hair again and then turns and watch their coach rumble along the roads.

She could happily drift away again. The scent of him calmly infused into his clothes. His cologne and the soap and sandalwood oil he uses. Pine from the forest, thorny tumbling brambles full of rich, tart fruit, and an undercurrent of eucalyptus and mint. Rich delicious and earthy. And he is a man sprung from the salt of the earth. She adores how his roots are humble, and he’s come so far as to rise into a Lords title. It’s a quality she admires.

Not before long, houses to start to crop up out of this beautiful Scottish countryside. Low little stone houses and then suddenly a fine granite clad town is before them. A promenade of wooden shops socketed into grey brick buildings above. Full of wares and goods for sale.

It’s quite a bustling little town and the outcrop of the splendid mountains is it’s backdrop. The loch nearby for fishing. The land for hunting game and meat. This was a rich land in so many ways. Bursting with scenery and culture. So different from her sheltered upbringing.

The coach takes them along the centre of the road. Up the slope of a hill a little way. Past some more shops and dwellings and there it pulls onto a lane that leads them to a small brown stone building. Set back from the road with a swinging sign on a post announcing its name. A silvery depiction of an animal hangs on that signpost. The White Stag.

She smiles as the coach follows the curved road. Leading to a modest wooden porch. The place was tavern like in appearance. A small and long, squat stone building. Burrowing into the earth after many years of standing. There’s a pretty wilderness of garden surrounding it. Crumbling stone walls sprouting heather. Every window peers out across the wide plain of the glen before them. It’s an open terrain. Bare to the expanse of the elements. But when a place is so happily situated, Iris can’t think it could look anymore handsome.

The coach lumbers to a creaky stop. They gather themselves and step out. She puts on her bonnet, pulls her coat up her arms as he steps out. He turns back to offer her a hand down.

Their driver - a very obliging young lad from Hellford, Sampson was his name - was kind enough to see to their luggage. Even her meagre carpet bag.

He was a nice boy. Kylo had said he was eager to drive a coach, even in the driving snow and frost. Kylo wouldn’t want such an uncomfortable job but he seemed keen. He had a way with the horses. Had the touch with them. And Erland even likes him so that’s as high a praise as can be bestowed.

He was a beanpole lad with muddy hair and jug handle ears. Poky shoulders and a towering stature. Two reed thin legs shoved into his tall boots. Coat swathing his lanky body.

When they broke their journey to take luncheon at a roadside inn near Lancaster, and to feed and water the horses.Kylo insisted that they all seek some sustenance to keep them going.

The pair of them sit in the sunny window in the small, dim pub and share a platter of succulent honey roast leg of ham, cut into thick wonky sliced chunks of juicy meat, with golden roast potatoes and buttered leeks. Served with mugs of sweet crisp apple cider on the side.

The food was splendid and they smile and talk intimately - she found great joy in the fact that no one around them censured or took interest in them like back at home. With every pair of eyes watching permanently it seemed. They sit opposite each other, in the window alcove, around a wobbly pub table and she couldn’t be happier. Nor could he. The smiles on their faces reflect this fact.

Before they ate, Kylo excused himself and quickly went to the bar and said something to the kind serving maid. Slipped a coin into her hand. And came to sit back down next to her. She raised a brow. She knows what he’s just fixed.

Sampson seemed most grateful that they sent him a plate of meat stew, roast ham and a flagon of cider out to the mews for him. The dear boy stumbled and blushed and wrung his hat on his hands and told them it was most kind when they returned to the coach to continue their journey. He told Kylo his last employer wasn’t nearly so generous.

Iris overheard all this as she stood feeding oats to the horses - even though Kylo told her not to spoil them.

Erland was shifting with excitement that she’s fussing him. The silly old thing. Kana was still a reluctant girl. But she seemed fond of Iris all the same.

Kylo smiled at the young boy. Told him he was looking forward to what the young lad would make of the stables at Ranlor. For he was pledged to make the crossing with them.

He wouldn’t be staying in the inn with them. Kylo booked the boy comfortable rooms closer to town. Told him to have a rest whilst he and Iris get on with proceedings of marriage. But he’ll be there at the weeks end to take them to the port to make the ship.

He gathers their luggage. Manages easily even though he looked about as tensile in strength as a lanky wet rag. Kylo takes her arm and leads her into the Inn. She’s getting rather used to the dim glow of these places of late.

He holds the door for her and she ducks in first. He has to swoop low to avoid stubbing his head on the doorframe. Her boots and his clack on the clean flagstone floors. Recently swept she guesses. Every table was wiped and adorned with little vases of wildflowers. Framed pictures and etchings hang straight on the lumpy stone walls. A fire crackles gently in the open fireplace. Horse brasses pinned to the bar glimmer as if polished. Thick plum and grey tartan curtains float poker straight on the brass curtain piles above each window.

The place is clean and tidy and not full of rowdy drunks with straw and ale spewed across the floor. She simply adores that it’s a tavern that takes pride in its neat as a pin appearance.

A few men sit around some tables enjoying a drink in the cloudy milky sunshine of the window. There’s some chatter and laughter in the din of the room. It’s beautifully warm and the air smells like ginger and oats. Something delicious being baked in the kitchens no doubt.

A matronly woman, very pretty with a tumbling shock of frizzy greying red hair greets them from behind the bar. A beige wool dress and apron tied around her middle. She was very beautiful in her late age. A warm face with ruddy cheeks and a complexion that had seen just enough sun. Eyes were a healthy moss green. Her weight lay entirely in her wobbly plump hips. She carries herself proudly.

She’s wiping down the pristine oak bar surface before her. But she stops and smiles when she catches sight of them. Kylo in all his sheer dark mass was impossible to resist or ignore, after all.

“Good Morning, Sir. Miss.” She beams and nods at the both of them. Handsome scottish brogue in her voice sounds kind. Iris likes such gallantry. Most people didn’t bother greeting young ladies when men were present.

Kylo smiles at the woman. Doubtless she was the landlady. “I’m looking for Mrs McCormack, I’ve written to secure lodgings upstairs.” He asks her.

“Aye.” She smiles fondly. “You’d be Lord Ren and Miss Ashton, I presume?” She asks. Looks to the both of them.

“The very same.” He confirms. Stroking Iris’s hand where it lay resting on the crook of his arm.

“How wonderful it is to see you both. I must welcome you the highlands.” She smiles. Laying aside her cloth.

“You have a beautiful Inn, Mrs McCormack. I’ve never seen the like.” Iris smiles at her.

“You’re very kind miss. I thank ye. I take great care to keep my threshold clean and presentable as possible. Everyone here calls me Mrs M. So don’t you be afraid too. If you’d come this way I’ll show you to your rooms.” She nods. Moving behind the bar and out to the stairs set into the alcove of the wall near them.

Kylo lets Iris walk up first. Of course. Watches her smile as she eyes the frames on the wall and asks the kind Mrs M about the White Stag’s history and it’s stories as they all alight the creaky wooden stairs.

He listens to them talk as they walk along a creaky landing with cream wallpaper studded with scarlet roses smeared all over the thick walls. Candles and heavy curtains in every window. Shutters ready to block out the harshest of Scottish winter nights.

Mrs M leads them to a door with a worn gold handle and opens it for them, guiding them inside. Iris instantly sees what he meant about the rooms being cosy rathe than grand. It is cosy and she’s take this handsome room over any gilded grand manor bedchamber.

The walls are tumbling exposed gold bricks. The floors are ancient groaning oak. Worn and bleached an old grey from years of heavy treading boots. The double bed is the centre of the room. A huge soft mattress and downy pillows, foot of it laden with blue and green tartan blankets and a sheep’s skin draped across the end. The mahogany headboard cresting in waves at the foot and the head of the bed is carved and ancient and so very elegant.

There’s a ginormous fireplace at the end of the bed, across the room. Already lit. Popping sparks and blazing heat out into the sunny room. There’s an alcove of a window seat stuffed with cushions and another wool tartan rug. Juniper green cloth armchairs reside by the far wall surrounding a small end table. The room is undeniably snug and home-like. Emphasised in earthy tones of blue and grey and green. Very much like the dazzling highland hills in which it sits.

Iris is so quietly giddy with contentment. She also spies a door to a yet unseen anteroom.

“There’s a private dining room for your particular use through here. Though you’re very welcome to come down and fast in the tavern if you wish. We serve three hot meals a day if you should like. Our cook can make anything you fancy.” She promises.

Her keen eye then spots a crease in the bed linens which she frowns and steps across to smooth out. Iris can see she had a very discerning eye. Kylo lingers in the doorway behind them. Hands folded as he watches her take it in.

He observes as she walks across the room and peers through into the dining room Mrs M spoke of. It’s charming too. Red covered chairs, a long mahogany table. Candlestick of brass shines in the sun. Fire blazing by the dining table.

“Your washroom is just here too. For your convenience.” She moves towards a door opposite the head of the bed and opens onto a small chamber. Installed with a copper bath and a side table with a jug and basin and a screen. “Bessie is the chamber maid and she’ll attend ye’ with any water you’ll be needing.” She tells.

Iris loves it.

“It’s an exquisite room. Mrs M. We are very happy with it. Aren’t we, Kylo?” Iris smiles. Unlacing her bonnet.

He smiles at his intended. “We most certainly are.”

Mrs M seems fascinated with his first name. “Aye now that’s an interesting name. Your lordship.” She puts a hand on her aproned hip and surveys him with friendly curiosity. “I’d wager there’s some Scottish somewhere in your family tree wi’ a name like that.” She nods.

Kylo smiles. Iris’ slate and honey eyes glimmer warmly at him across the room in the cloudy light. Slight beams of it coming though the window are twirling lazily with dust. “There is some Norse I believe. Lingers far back with my ancient ancestors.” He tells their landlady.

“I would’na be surprised mi’lord.” She wagers with a fond grin.

“Oh. I’ll forget me own head next.” She explains. Rummaging into her apron pocket. Drawing out a heavy iron key. “Your room also has its own entrance. Though of course you may always come up through the tavern if you wish. Thats the key to door at the end of the landing there.” She points out the door. Hands the key over to Iris.

She then nods politely to them both. “It is nearly noon. Can I fetch you both a tray of tea? Cook just baked some shortbread I believe.” She smiles.

“That would be heavenly. Thank you.” Iris concludes. Setting her bonnet down on the bed.

“Might I also request you send your maid up to have the bath filled? My fiancée has had a long and tiring journey.” Kylo asks.

“I’ll send her up right away. Your lordship.” Mrs M insists. Moving to the door and shutting the latch softly after herself.

Kylo turns back to her after she leaves them. Iris has her back to him, slipping off her shabby blue coat.

He’ll have to get her another. She’ll be his Lady soon. She’ll need a finer coat than this beaten old thing. It gets stuck on her elbows. He walks across and aids her. Grips the back of her collar and helps guide it down.

She blushes when he leans down and holds her shoulders delicately as he kisses the join where he neck meets spine. A tendril of lose hair curls at his nose. He smiles against the back of her neck. Arms slipping down to draw her into an embrace. Big palms crossing at her stomach.

She places her hands over his. Savours the silence and the feeling of his solid comforting weight at her back. Enclosing her in love.

“You truly like the room?” He seeks. She conceals a blush - rather poorly - when she reflects that the bed she’s now looking at that they will be sharing. On their wedding night. He will bed her in this room and that thought makes her knees weak.

She twists in his arms. His palms rasp over her wool dress. Slides to her hips. She smiles sincerely up at him. “Truly. And I adore its surroundings. And especially its occupant at present.”

He smiles and leans down to claim her mouth in a sweet kiss. She’s so sweet. Sweeter than brown sugar and cream and tart fruit. He drinks of her lips like the greedy pillaging viking he absolutely is. He sucks and nibbles her bottom lip and holds her close when her knees wobble with it. Smiles and breaks the kiss remarking how weak his kisses make her.

“Have a nice long soak, and that cup of tea, my love. You’ll be stiff sore from sleeping in that coach on my shoulder.” He insists. “I may ride Erland into town to fetch a few things…” He tells her.

He had to take care of her, after all. He will not fail in that duty as others had. He was far too gallant. And in love-

She can’t deny how heavenly a soak will feel on her aching bones. And she did have a stiff neck- And although his coach was most comfortable, she is clad not to be in that jolting rumbling box for another night.

“To approach the subject not very delicately-” She starts. Wringing her hands for distraction. “When is the wedding ceremony?” She asks.

That makes him grin. “Four o’clock today. My love.” He smiles.

He wishes there was an artist here with a palette of oils and a bare canvas to hand; for her face is a picture.

“I had the banns read three weeks ago. Paid out a considerable sum to secure the church. All we need do is turn up to the chapel in our best, and the Reverend will wed us. Then and there.” He smirks.

Iris laughs. Smiling in disbelief. She places a hand to hold her middle. She feels almost faint with happiness.

“I think then, that I had better take to that bath.” She chuckles and blushes. He crosses back and kisses her cheek. Cups her neck and gives her a kiss that leaves her shivering long after he pulls his mouth from her.

“I won’t be long. Dove.” He promises. With one last kiss to her hand, he strides for the door and ducks out. “Drink your tea. Wallow in your bath. Make ready to marry me.” He smirks and winks.

Leaving her reeling with the force and memory of his insolently handsome smile.

The room feels doubly empty and so lifeless without him in it. There’s more oxygen without him. And she means that in a sincerely loving way.

When he’s here she’s aware of every smile, every move. Every touch he gives her is magnetic. She’s a bundle of blushes and nerves when he’s near. A giddy silly girl who trembles at the touch of his hand. Who hears the pounding of her heart hammer furiously in her chest when he’s near.

She does as he instructs. Mrs M sends the kind Bessie, the chamber maid, up with a tray of tea and then a big steel jug of hot water for her tiny copper bath.

She drinks the tea and nibbles a biscuit as she unpacks her meagre clutch of things from her luggage that Sampson brought up. As crimson appeared to be Kylo’s preferred colour; she chose accordingly. Hoping her gown wasn’t too crushed from it’s journey in the trunk.

She brought one good gown and a handful of plain cotton and wool ones. The one she would marry him in was a plain ruby-wine red. French Burgundy was the colour name.

It had a ruffle of demure lace stitched all around the scooping neckline and the brocade silk is gathered and stitched intricately at the back. Forming a beautiful slight train and cutting a severe figure. Her mother would have made a comment about it being a red dress. She couldn’t fathom the energy to care.

It makes her in such a passion she wants to pen a letter to her mother right then and there; tell her she’s marrying Lord Ren in a red dress. Like a harlot. See what she makes of that. She wants to watch her face crumble and her rage come snarling forth when Iris signs the letter as Lady Ren. See what her termagant of a mother makes of that…

She hangs it up to ready it for later. Smiles at the sight of it hung on the wardrobe door. Ready. As she should be- she hastens toward her bath.

The kind chambermaid was even so good as to leave a little organza pouch of dried heather and lavender on the side for her. With a little white pebble of honey and oat soap.

Iris catches sight of it as she unlaced her gown and rugged away her stays. She thinks it’s most kind of her to spare the expense of a little trinket. The steam of the piping hot water is muggy and sluggish in the air. Clouding up the mirror behind the jug and basin.

She sinks into the water. Lavender that she sprinkled into the tub spices up the air with its plain floral hint. She smiles gratefully as she submerged fully in the milky cloud of delicious heat. Rubbing the cake of soap along her arms and legs and sudsing up every inch. She does the same with her hair. Wets it and combs through a little oil. Scrapes her scalp with her nails and rubs the soap in and then rinses it.

She scrubs and scrubs until her skin is pink and every inch of her has been kissed and rubbed with soap. She climbs out and dries. Combs her hair out and rubs it. Repeating the process sitting by the small bath chamber fire until it feels significantly more dry. Ready for her to manage pinning into a coiffure. She could manage one on her own; Meg had taught her a few tricks over the years.

She pulls on a new chemise. A sleeveless one that would fit under the dress she’d chosen. She’s rubbing her hair with a flannel towel and takes her silver hair brush with her to go sit by the fire in their chamber. She brushes and brushes until her muddy locks look less and less like a wet soggy puddle.

She hears his treads on the cracking creaking stairs as he comes back.

The afternoon shifting later as the sun slides along behind the clouds. The door latch lifts from the other side and her handsome fiancé comes back in. Nudging the door open with his foot. For his arms are laden with boxes. His hair flounced by the wind and his cheeks pink from it too. His eyes were deviously bright with the exercise- it’s also because he’s caught her sat there in her shift with damply drying hair like some tempting forest nymph.

In all his dark coated glory, he completely fills the doorway to their chamber. His white shirt peers through the gap in his unbuttoned coat. A black cravat is knotted up his neck. Moulding into the stretch of his coat and his big polished boots peeling out where it ends at his calves.

Bessie comes after him. Carrying more boxes. Kylo gives her a coin and a smile of thanks. She bobs and scarpers quick and silent from the room.

Kylo looks across to his intended with a frown of confusion. Had he scared her? Or maybe she found their engaged state sharing a room to be shocking - some people were very strict on such matters.

“I think she is perhaps a little shy. And-“ she leaves her explanation there.

She merely gestures to how tall and big, and handsome, he is. He made Iris tremble in her skin with his smile, and she was years older than the serving maid. To an impassioned young girl prone to crushes and passing fancies, Iris imagines he’s an Achilles heel of blushes and furtive glances. She thinks of her sisters’ reaction to him. All lashes and rosy smiles. Like gardenias coming into bloom for the sun.

He makes a noise of agreement. And that’s when he brings around his arm that had previously tucked behind his back. He brings around a bouquet of flowers. Tied with a grey ribbon that reminded him of her eyes.

“I cannot allow my beautiful bride to be flower-less on her wedding day.” He explains. Setting them before her in her lap as he crouched in front of her.

She is touched beyond words. She grips the flowers and lifts the blooms up to her nose to drink in their scent. Purple thistles, pink and mauve heather, bluebells and wild violets. Harebell and myrtle and a Scottish primrose. A beautiful clutch of green, white, purple and blues.

“They’re beautiful.” She comments. Stroking her fingers along the frail petals. Their nectar and greenery spicing up the air.

“Thankyou.” She sighs onto his lips as he leans in for a slow kiss. He stays on his knees for her - the only way she could reach his lips.

“I fetched some other things for you…” he explains. Taking her hand and pulling her up. He leads her to the bed and her heart thumps a tad faster - thinking they’ll be doing this later on tonight, in a handful of hours, for entirely different reasons.

He shows her the collection of items he’d purchased.

Save for two gold wedding rings - it’s all for her. She is speechless.

There’s three new exquisite silk and lace gowns. An entirely new Scottish-wool coat. Parchment, ink and quills for any letters she wishes to write. Some ribbons and hair pins and pretty silver baubles and combs to decorate her hair coiffures. Five pairs of embroidered stockings, and some round little cakes of oat soap.

Her mouth gapes as she looks to him. He shrugs and offers an explanation - Looking deuced too smug. “You deserve trinkets aplenty to remember your wedding day by.” He explains handsomely. She holds his hand. Quite stunned and not knowing what to say.

No ones ever told her she deserves to be spoiled before. It’s quite a new sensation for her to fathom.

“It’s not a day I’ll be forgetting in any hurry. Believe me.” She tells him.

She sees his eyes dart across the room to where her wedding dress is awaiting being worn. Hung on the door. He smiles fondly at her choice. Looks back to her.

“I can help you with your gown fastenings if you’d like?” He asks. Voice uncharacteristically husky.

She rises to meet his challenge. “If you’re offering.” She smiles. Bravely looking him in the eye.

She turns away and breaks the spell his eyes cast. Walks across and fetches her dress. Steps over to him and he encloses it around her after she steps into it. The fastenings already loose.

He slides it to skim over her hips. Up past her waist. Rests it at her waist and pulls the two sides together over her shoulders.

The way she tugs her hair aside makes his mouth water. Throat bobs where he swallows.

Lovers have done that for him before- countless times and countless lovers- But her doing this, nearly undoes him.

He focuses on his task. Tugs on the hidden laces at the back of her dress. Laces her into it, closing the ties at her shoulders. Eyeing the curve of it that cut around her lovely shoulders. Ruby red against her creamy skin. It’s too tempting to even indulge that certain route of his thinking-

He works efficiently. Fingers brushing the brocade silk and her back. The scent of lavender and spicy oat soap tantalising him as he laboured in this favour for her. He gets to the last tie and he mourns being able to be this close. Parts by stroking his hands down her back, the span of his fingers meet her waist easily. He kisses into her tumble of still drying hair. Inhales her. Cherished the moment of him being pressed against her back.

He called for the bath to be refilled when he came back- and honestly the chambermaid was too damn efficient. Her knock rattled the door and kylo blinks and nods her to come in. Their lusting spell is broken again.

Iris flushed and steps away to round the side of the bed to fetch a pair of stockings. Holding her skirts aloft.

The sight of the curve of her ankle sends his mind reeling into the squalid plains of Male frustration. He swallows and lets the maid fill the bath for him. He was in need of a scrub too. Not exactly covered in the grime and dust of the road but he’d relish the chance to run some soap over his skin before his wedding ceremony.

When he looks back to his beautiful intended, she is sat in the window alcove that’s stuffed with cushions and a tartan rug. Framed by sunlight. Hair turned into spun bronze and gold. Eyes sparkling like polished moonstone. She’s looking down in her lap, with two ivory embroidered stockings in her hands. Running a thumb over the garter ribbon. It was a soft blue. He likes blue on her.

He tries not to envisage that particular part of her anatomy that the stockings will rise up to, too much. He waits for his bath to be drawn and counts down the frustrated and rife minutes as they pass, like the truly impatient Lord he is.

#between wolves & doves #vampire!kylo #kylo ren x oc #adam driver #Regency era #slow burn

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sunny-x-endeavor · 4 years ago

Text

Coffee Mates

Sunny x Endeavor Fanfic

Type: Mainly them meeting/introduction

Fandom: My Hero Academia Characters: Enji Todoroki (Endeavor), Sunny (OC)

word count: 1745 words (it’s about 4 pages in my google doc if that means anything)

Notes: This happens right before All Might retires and the first villain attacks at the school. This piece was mainly an ice breaker to start writing fanfic of these two. I needed to start somewhere. If need to put more information at the top of this please let me know. Also sorry for any type-o’s and poor grammar. I wrote this a 1am in the morning.

I stood quietly in the elevator by myself. In my left hand I held my empty coffee cup. I looked on my right hand at my smartwatch to see the time flip over to 11:31am. I was early for the meeting and had time to waste. I headed up to the break room to grab some much needed coffee.

Ding.

The doors opened. Stepping out of the elevator I could see at the end of the hall the meeting room already had a few people waiting inside the open door. Not enough people to start the meeting with, so I wasn’t worried about being late. Taking a sharp right I entered the breakroom and was blasted with heat. At first I thought the worst had happened, like someone left their fork in the microwave and caused a small fire. Stepping more in the room I got a better look at the source. A tall hulking man was standing over one of the coffee makers. He had fire spewing out of him.

“Is… Is that pro hero Endeavor at the coffee maker????” I thought to myself as I stared at his back. The man was wearing a navy blue suit and black oxford shoes. His mystery man was hunching over the coffee maker and messing around with it. Endeavor was the first pro hero that I could think of in my head who normally has flames coming out of him, but as a fellow fire based hero I know he wasn’t the only one. I didn’t want to assume it was and be wrong, so I got a little closer. He shifted his body to face me and then a step away from me when he realized someone was coming up behind him. I was able to get a better look at his face. With his red hair, flame beard, and piercing eyes I got the confirmation I needed.

“Excuse me. Sorry!” I quietly brusted out as I stood next to him at the counter. I could feel my body quickly getting used to the heat and starting to feel normal again. I turned my head to quickly look at his face and back to face forwarding. He looked a little puzzled by my actions, or maybe by me being next to him? Either way I put my cup downed on the counter and then reached out my hand for a coffee maker. The moment I put my hand on the handle I realized the pot was empty. I then looked over to see the coffee maker next to the one I reached for; Endeavor had a glass pot in hand and was looking at me. The one in his hand was also empty and so was the cup next to him.

“Ooooh!” I softly gasped. “I didn’t realize we were already out of coffee!” I quickly bent down to the cupboard in front of me and opened it.

“.....Uh yeah.” I heard softly come from Endeavor as he took another step from me when I opened the cupboard. It was quiet and I almost missed it. I quickly filled both coffee makers with coffee grounds and water. I stood there watching them go to work. Endeavor stood there next to me.

I looked over to him and said, “Sorry for being out of coffee. Normally we have a rule that whoever takes the last bit of coffee has to refill the pot. The last person probably forgot…” I wasn’t the best at small talk but I felt too awkward to just stand in silence. He looked back at me. I nervously adjusted my sunglasses on my face as I quickly looked away from him. I suddenly felt hot again, but this time it was being shy and nervous. It started to hit me that the number two hero was right next to me, and I was a nobody casually talking to him. I can feel my layback and casual nature backfiring on me at this moment. This is the time to be formal and I feel like I already screwed up. I could still feel his stare on me as we stood there.

The long pause was broken by his voice. “Have I met you before?” I looked back at him, his hand was on his chin as he looked at me. He looked like he was trying to think of where he knows me from.

“Oh me?” I said shockingly.

“Yes you.” He took his hand away from his face as he waited for my answer.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” I could feel my brain buffer as I nervously went into my brain trying to remember a time we were in the same room together before this. “Yes! Well… No… Well maybe uh deepens on how you see it.”

“What?”

“I have responded to fires and such that you were present for. We’ve been near each other on jobs, but never formally introduced.” I quickly snapped my finger and then pointed at him as I spoked. Trying to gentured I remembered.

“Ah I see…” He turned to face the coffee makers producing coffee. “I didn’t realize…”

“Uh, yeah it’s fine! Don’t worry about it. You see a million faces a day. You can’t always remember them all. Especially faces you’ve never talked to.”

Beep beep.

I brought my arm up to look at my watch. It was a reminder for the meeting in 15 minutes. I tapped my watch screen and pushed the notification away. I could feel Endeavor bending over me a bit and looking at my watch.

“What’s that?” He pointed at my watch.

“Oh? It’s just a smartwatch. It’s handy when I can’t hold my phone or lose my phone.” I said as I pulled out my phone from my back pocket. I looked at my phone and saw a text from my daughter. I quickly tapped the keypadded to unlock my phone. My background was a photo of my daughter and I smiling. It was her first day of school, so she was wearing her uniform. I opened the text app and started to read the text. It was just a reminder from her that she would be at a friend's house for the weekend.

“Who is that as your background?” I looked up at him to see he was still bending towards me looking at my phone. I didn’t realize he was still looking at my phone and watching me. “I’m sorry if that was a rude question. I just noticed she was wearing the same uniform my son's school has. I was just got curious.”

“Oh that’s my daughter! She’s a first year at UN. Does your son also go there?” I put my phone back into my pocket. Then reaching for the pot in front me since it was finished pouring. “Also I didn’t know you had kids or a wife or anything… You always seemed like a lone wolf type of guy.” That came out ruder than I wanted it to be….

“Uh yeah… I do have kids. Well anyways I wasn’t sure what the relationship was since I didn’t see much of a family resemblance.” He snapped at me. It was a stab for what I said a moment ago and I deserved it. “She must look like her father then.”

“Oh, you’re right she doesn’t look like me at all. It’s because she’s adopted. Also no father here. I’m single as a pringle.” I stabbed back at him. I normally don’t like telling people my child isn’t my own blood, but I feel like I have entered a passive aggressive fight and I want to win.

“No father? Could you not find anyone to have a child with you? You look so young tho...” I couldn’t tell if he was trying to make me upset or just thinking out loud at this point. Either way he was being nosy.

“Tried! No man could do it for me. Also at that moment of my life I was in my raging lesbian phase, so I don’t think I was ever going to find one. Plus I couldn’t have my own kids due to my body’s abnormal body temp. Either way I was fucked…. Oh sorry excuse my language.”I said quickly and a little too loud. I then picked up my coffee cup and looked at him. His face was bright pink from hearing all of this shoved in his face. I don’t know which part got him flustered, but either way I think I won this conversation.

“Anyways! See you at the meeting!”I said to him. I turned to face the door and took a sip of my coffee. My face twisted the moment it hit my tongue. I was too busy talking to remember to put sugar and creamer into my drink. I kept walking anyway. I’ll just fix my coffee after the meeting or something. I don’t know, I just want out of this room.

“I um, I’m sorry for being rude.” Endeavor spoke behind me. I turned my body a tiny bit to see him while he spoke to me. He already had a cup of coffee in his hand and was following me now. “I understand why you’re being defensive. I’m also a single parent and I can be…. A little too much when it comes to my kids. If someone said such a thing to me I would be upset too. I should have thought before I spoke. I hope this conversation doesn’t ruin things.”

“Uh its…. It’s fine I guess. You’ll just have to repay me later for your rudeness.” I looked back at my watch; It was only 11:47am. Still 13 minutes before the meeting started. I then tucked my hand into my jacket pocket.

“Sure?” His voice sounded puzzled by what I said.

“For example…” I looked at him as I pulled out my wallet from my jacket. He looked at me confused and still a little bit pink in the face. I opened my wallet and then with a quick snap of my wrist a 2 foot long row of photos poured out of it. “For the next 13 minutes you could listen to me talk about how cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute my baby is!!!!”

Endeavors face squished and eyes closed as a short hardy laugh bursted out of him after watching the photos coming out of my wallet. His face started to go pink once more.

Nailed it.

#sunnyxend #sunny x endeavor #self insert oc #oc #oc fanfic #fanfic #my writing #sunny #endeavor #enji todoroki

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s-trawberryv-eins · 5 years ago

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Chocolate Milk

Summary: In the wake of her identity coming to light, relationships are left damaged. Caroline reaches out to Banner, trying to repair the damage her truth has caused.

Warnings: Minor angst, nothing else.

Please read here before reading!

Stark!OC x Bruce Banner

Word count: 1173

THE POTTS-STARK RESIDENCE

UPSTATE NEW YORK

For the thousandth time, Caroline felt as though her life had been thrown up into the air, with no guarantee of a safe landing. Since arriving at her adoptive mother’s house three days ago, the scientist had invested every second of her time in Morgan, determined to eventually make up for lost time.

“Excuse me, Princess Caroline, your tea is going cold!” The youngest Stark scolded her big sister playfully, pulling her from her daydreams.

“Forgive me, Queen Morgan! Your tea is delicious as always.” As she studied the small brunette, it occurred to her that this need not be hidden any more. They could have as many tea parties as their hearts desired, witnesses being of no real consequence. She could see her family as she pleased, and that fact comforted her greatly,

Before she could take another sip of her ‘tea’, her phone began buzzing across the room. Opting to ignore whoever was trying to get in contact with her, she went to reach for her teacup when Morgan ran off in search of the source of the buzzing.

“Morgan, don’t touch-"

“Auntie ‘Tasha!” Tasha? Natasha. Black Widow, she realised. It was clear her brief period of solitude was up, and she'd have to return to the compound to see what damage had been caused the day she left. Listening in on the conversation as best she could, she pulled the tiara from her hair and pulled her jacket on.

"Bye 'Tasha!” As she pranced back to the table, a look of seriousness crossed her face. "Auntie 'Tasha says Bruce is sad and we gotta help him." The nervousness in Caroline’s eyes couldn’t be noticed by the youngest Stark, yet her next sentence cheered her up perfectly. “I gotta come. Uncle Sam drank all my chocolate milk.”

As the Stark sisters climbed out of the car and headed into the compound, a thousand questions raced through Caroline’s mind. What if they rejected her? What if they kicked her out and never wanted to see her again? What if Banner hated her?

Bidding goodbye to Morgan - who had a ‘bird trap’ to set – she headed up to her lab. Knocking quietly as not to disturb the doctor, she let herself in. His face remained expressionless as she entered; he'd likely been informed of her arrival by Natasha. Lingering by the door, she daren’t come any closer without invitation.

“Hey, Green. Can we talk?” Voice quiet and nervous, she half expected him to demand she leave the room. But instead, she got nothing at all. After a moment of silence, she inhaled sharply, and turned on her heel to leave. Her movements halted when he spoke up.

“You look just like him.” Head turned, eyes shot up to meet his, shock evident in her features. That was the last thing the scientist expected him to say. "I don’t know how I didn’t see it,” he continued “you look just like him.” Emphasising his point, Caroline tried for more confidence as she spoke up.

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not, Green.” He shook his head, not in response but in disbelief. Dropping the tools in his hands to the metal workbench below with a loud clatter, he turned to face her.

“How could you do it? How did you lie to us all for years? Why?” His voice was low and dark, enough to make her bottom lip jut out.

“We agreed to do it when I was young. Said it would keep me safe, and level the playing field.” This answer only seemed to anger him, however.

“Keep you safe?” Voice louder now, frustration coming out all at once. "What about now, huh? Why'd it take so long?” Only 3 feet between them as he pressed closer. Long ago he’d gained control of his other half, she'd never been afraid of The Hulk. But in the moment, she couldn't help but be mildly afraid of him, of Bruce.

“We fought with him. We watched him die. Iron Mans daughter couldn’t make the fight though. Who was keeping him safe, huh?” Pain bit at her heart, his words sinking deep into her bones. Did he blame her? Should he blame her? Was Tony’s death her doing? Breathing was staggered, she couldn't let the air into her lungs.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Voice a broken whisper, she fought to keep her tears back. Banners face softened as she spoke. Her father died, and she was apologising. Banner shook his head, his anger slowly dissipating as he realised the callousness of his words.

“No, stop, I’m sorry. That was awful of me to say. I’m hurt Care, but I crossed a line." Feeling his hand on her shoulder, she met his eyes.

“I swear to you. We never meant to hurt anybody. Never.” With wet eyes and shaky breaths, she felt endlessly grateful when he pulled her in for a hug.

“I know, Care. I know. It, uh-“ he paused, searching for the right words. “I’m just in shock. It might take a bit of getting used to." Pulling away from him, she wiped her eyes with a sigh.

With a weak smile, she nodded. “Take as long as you need. I need to go and speak to Captain Rogers. I owe him an apology too.” Earning a soft smile and a nod in response, she took that as her leave and went to find the object of her next apology.

As she wandered down the halls of the compound, nearing the common area, the sound of tiny footsteps approaching made her slow. As she turned, she saw her younger sister running down the hall hastily, only slowing to grab her sisters’ legs and hide. “I took Redwing!” Her gleeful voice explained the situation between breaths, the running having tired her out. Another pair of footsteps seemed to approach, heavier sounding than the last.

“I know you took him, Stark." Wilsons voice was stern but heavily laced with humour, indicating that it was all fun and games. "Return Redwing now, and no more milk goes missing.” As he appeared in front of Caroline, surprise crossed his features. “Oh, hey, Doc!” A nervous laugh escaped as he tried to explain what was going on. “Good to, uh, see you!" His sentence broken and distracted as he looked for the hidden girl. Stepping out of the way, Caroline exposed the smallest avenger, who yelped before darting off, Sam hot on her heels.

“You too, Sam!” A smile appeared on her lips as she realised Sam seemed to have no issue with her. Before she could take another step, Rogers himself appeared around the corner, a glass of chocolate milk in his hand. Anxiety began to settle in her stomach, halting briefly as he chuckled, watching Sam and Morgan down the hall. As his eyes met hers, he looked her up and down warily, before a smile settled on his face.

"Welcome to the team, Stark.”

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mikrowrites · 5 years ago

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all hail the magic man

•part three•

Doctor Strange x Apprentice!OC(platonic)

A/N: this one’s a long one~

Charlie had found after three years of apprenticeship in the Mystic Arts, wearing just a pair of jeans and a tee shirt felt... weird.

It was a quiet morning in the Sanctum, and excitement flowed through the fifteen-year-old’s veins at the thought of a free day without sitting in front of books or cleaning the Sanctum or polishing her Sanskrit. Just a normal day.

Stephen had lured Charlie out of bed (at 10:46 am, yes) with the sweet promise of a sandwich from the local shop, causing her to run out to the foyer to meet Stephen and Wong on the staircase.

“Seriously, you don’t have any money?” Stephen sighed at Wong, Charlie handing her mentor her five bucks.

Wong shrugged dismissively at Stephen. “Attachment to the material is detachment from the spiritual.”

Stephen shook his head while playfully nudging Charlie’s shoulder. “We’ll tell the guys at the deli.”

“Maybe they’ll make you a metaphysical ham on rye~” Charlie sang, cutting Stephen off and turning back to Wong teasingly.

Wong rolled his eyes at the girl, rummaging through his belt. “Oh! Wait, wait, wait, I think I have 200!”

“Dollars?”

“Rupees.” Wong replied, Charlie snorting in laughter.

Stephen sighed. “Which is?”

“Uh... buck and a half?”

Stephen let out a louder sigh, shaking his head and continuing down the stairs with Charlie following behind. She tapped Stephen’s shoulder, pulling out an extra few bucks. “I’ll take care of it, Mrs. Mendota paid extra for me to walk her dog this week.”

Charlie turned to Wong. “What do you want?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a tuna melt.”

Suddenly there was an explosion on the stairs behind them, causing everyone to stumble to their knees on the floor. It appeared some rainbow light was flowing violently into the stairs, causing a gaping hole.

Once the light subsided, the three ran forwards, Stephen’s cloak flying to him as Charlie and his clothes suddenly shifted into their robes. Stephen and Wong cast shield over their fists while Charlie summoned her weapon, a bow and arrow made from the magic orange sparks.

A deep groan came from within the hole. They looked down to see a man, whose skin was shifting from a green color to a normal peach skintone. Charlie lowered her bow slightly her eyes widening in recognition. “That’s... That’s Dr. Bruce Banner...”

The man shifted his head to her, panic visible in his eyes and body. “Thanos is coming,” He gasped, his voice raising to his normal pitch. “He’s coming...”

Stephen turned to Wong and Charlie in confusion before looking back at Bruce.

“Who?”

- - - - - -

Stephen cast a portal in the foyer, nodding to Charlie as they both stepped forwards, Charlie looking back to give Banner a reassuring smile.

They were in a park, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts stood before them in shock.

“Tony Stark, I’m Dr. Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me.” Stephen commanded.

The two still looked panicked, Tony with a protective arm on Pepper, with the woman grasping it like a lifeline.

“Uh, erm—congrats on the wedding!” Charlie smiled nervously, attempting to diffuse the panic.

“I’m sorry, you giving out tickets or something?” Tony asked defensively.

“We need your help. It’s not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake.” Stephen responded calmly as Charlie stepped through the portal to retrieve Bruce.

Tony scoffed. “And who’s ‘we’?”

Bruce stepped out of the portal towards the couple, Charlie staying behind in the foyer with Wong. “Hey, Tony.”

“Bruce.” Tony acknowdged in surprise. Suddenly Bruce walked forwards, pulling Tony into a tight embrace.

Around five minutes later Tony say on a couch in the Sanctum’s foyer. Charlie cast an illusion as Wong began to speak.

“At the dawn of the universe, there was nothing. Then, boom.” Wong paused as Charlie continued casting the illusion, a number of stars and a galaxy forming as Charlie created visuals of five of the infinity stones. “The Big Bang sent six elemental crystals hurtling across the virgin universe. These Infinity Stones each control an essential aspect of existence.”

Each stone illusion glowed as Charlie named them off. “Space, Reality, Power, Soul, Mind...” Charlie turned to Stephen who opened the Eye of Aggamoto, revealing the sixth stone.

“... and Time.” Stephen finished.

Tony bit his lip. “Tell me his name again.”

“Thanos.” Bruce responded quickly. “He’s a plague, Tony. He invades planets. He takes what he wants. He wipes out half the population. He sent Loki! The attack on New York, that’s him!”

“This is it.” Tony muttered. “What’s our timeline?”

“No telling. He has the Power and Space Stones. That already makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe. If he gets his hands on all six stones, Tony—“

“He could destroy life on a scale of hitherto undreamt of.” Stephen finished.

Tony did some runner’s stretches casually in the foyer. “Did you seriously just say “hitherto undreamt of”?”

“Are you seriously leaning on the Cauldron of the Cosmos?” Stephen mocked, his cloak flicking Tony as he stopped his stretches.

“If Thanos needs all six, why don’t we just stick this one down a garbage disposal?” Tony reasoned.

Stephen shook his head. “No can do.”

“We swore an oath to protect the Time Stone with our lives.” Charlie crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at Tony.

“And I swore off dairy... but then Ben & Jerry’s named a flavor after me, so...”

“Stark Raving Hazelnuts.” Stephen commented in disgust. “A bit chalky.”

Wong shrugged. “A Hunk if Hulk of Burning Fudge is our favorite.”

“Wait! That’s a thing?” Bruce gasped. The banter continued on for a while, Charlie eventually sat on the of the steps with her chin resting on her fists.

Suddenly Charlie was pulled out of her thoughts but a distant rumbling she stood up, looking around before turning to Wong and Stephen.

“Say, Doc, you wouldn’t happen to be moving your hair, would ya?” Tony questioned.

“Not at the moment, no.” Stephen concluded.

Charlie began to tense at the sound of muffled screams. Whipping her head to the door along with the four men in room. Tony walked to the door, opening it to see total chaos. People screaming, horns honking, a heavy wind blowing debris and even people over.

Stephen turned back to Charlie. “Shields up. Stay behind me. No funny business, if we get attacked, hide. Do you understand?” Charlie nodded, summoning her shields. “Good.”

The remaining three followed Tony out, to see him helping out a woman who had fallen before a care crashed into a pole beside them. “Help him!”

Wong gestured to Bruce and Charlie, the girl creating a shield over them as the two men helped the guy out of his crashed car.

They all stood in front of a weird donut shaped shape ship, Charlie staying behind Stephen and Wong with her shields up. Two beings were phased down in front of them a couple yards away. Stephen glances back at Charlie, who gave him a nervous glance, before directing his attention to the creatures.

The smaller creature spoke. “Hear me and rejoice. You are about to die at the hands of the Children of Thanos. Be thankful, that your meaningless lives are now contributing to th-“

“—I’m sorry, Earth is closed today.” Tony shouted. “You better pack it up and get outta here.”

“Stonekeeper.” The creature addressed Stephen directly. “Does this chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not. I speak for myself.” Stephen stepped forwards, himself and Wong summoning their shields. “You’re trespassing in this city and on this planet.”

“He means get lost, Squidward!”

The creature dismissively glanced to the other, bigger alien. “He exhausts me. Bring me the Stone.”

The lumbering creature began to stalk over, Tony nodding to Bruce. “Banner you want a piece?”

However after a few quite embarrassing attempts, it appeared that the Hulk wanted to part in this fight. As the creature began to charge, Tony tapped his reactor, a impressive nanotech suit covering his body as he shot the creature back, before the smaller creature used his powers to shoot Tony out of sight.

Stephen turned to Charlie. “Go. Hide.” He demanded, but she felt like her feet were glued to the pavement staring at the smaller creature in terror. Stephen turned around fully as Tony recovered. “Charlotte! Go! NOW!” He yelled, snapping her out of her daze.

Charlie, seeing the desparateness in his eyes, nodded and ran, kneeling behind a car as she created a shield around herself, covering her head with her hands as she squeezed her eyes shut.

- - - - - -

“-rlie! Charlie! Hey, kid!”

“Charlotte!”

Charlie opened her eyes, removing her hands from her head as she looked up to see Wong and Bruce kneeling in front of her shield, concern in their eyes.

She quickly tore down the shield, standing up. She turned to Wong. “Where’s Stephen?”

The man was silent, his mouth etched into a thin line.

“Wong... don’t... where is he?” She demanded.

“They got him.” Bruce murmured, Charlie whipping her head over to him. “They took him and the stone. Tony went after him.”

Charlie places one of her hands on the back of the car, nodding. Tony was with him. They’d be okay, Stephen was the strongest man she knew. “Okay... okay, what do we do now?”

Bruce walked over to a pile of rubble pulling out a battered flip phone. Charlie followed him, looking at the phone with interest.

Wong created a portal to the Sanctum, drawing their attention. Bruce cleared his throat. “Where you guys going?”

“The Time Stone’s been taken. The Sanctum remains unguarded. What will you do?”

“I’m gonna make a call.” Bruce responded, holding the flip phone up to his ear.

Wong nodded to man before turning to Charlie, nodding his head towards the portal.

Charlie figited with her hands. “Wong?”

The man turned towards her.

“I’m... I’m not coming with you...”

The man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, turning fully towards the teen. “What?”

“I’m staying here with Dr. Banner.” Charlie reinstated.

Wong’s face hardened. “No.”

Charlie stood her ground. “You are completely capable of protecting the Sanctum yourself. Dr. Banner is defenseless.”

“Stephen would never-“

“Stephen isn’t here!” Charlie hissed. “I’ve been training for three years! I want to be goddamn useful!”

Wong was silent for a moment.

“Fine.”

Charlie smiled, running up to Wong and embracing him. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Wong chuckled, pulling away before fixing Charlie with a stoic face.

“No you won’t.”

With that, the portal closed and she turned towards Bruce, inhaling deeply.

This was still not quite when Charlie met death toe to toe.

- - - - - -

Taglist: @knightofreaders @imabookworm31 @lizlil @viarogers

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until-theend-oftheline · 5 years ago

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Kari’s What If MCU Challenge

I reached 3k and got a hold of the infinity stones. I snapped my fingers and changed one thing about the MCU several times creating new timelines. It’s now your mission should you chose to accept it to tell me what that single change would make the MCU look like.

Interested? Read on. And please reblog this to spread the word!

Due Date: October 4th, 2019

Word min: 1k words

Word Max: 10k words

Style: It can be a one-shot or the beginning of a series. If your series cross 10K talk to me about it. I’ll allow it but I might not read it all depending on the number of people that break the top count.

Fandom: MCU

Will you read and reblog my fic?

You betcha :D I am behind on reading for previous challenges so patience is a virtue here

When Do I Post?

Right now. Sign-Ups start now and end when there are no more prompts or when the due date rolls around

Genre: Anything you want. You have to be over 18 if you write smut and you always have to warn accordingly! Fluff, angst, AUs, and crack are all welcome.

Limits on what you can write: No Mommy/Daddy kinks, no non/dub con, no A/B/O, no merpeople. No half animal anything, please. No mobster aus. No monster porn (this counts Venom and Hulk) No glorification on cheating (it’s okay as a plot device but use it with thought) - if you got any questions at any time feel free to send me an ask,

NO BDSM INVOLVING BUCKY - NEITHER IN SHIPS OR READER INSERTS! PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL OF HIS PTSD! DON’T TURN HIS ARM INTO A KINK FOR ANYONE - IT’S A DISABILITY AND CONNECTED TO GREAT TRAUMA.

Format: State in your A/N that it is for my (until-theend-oftheline) Kari’s What if MCU Challenge. And use the # Kari’s What if MCU Challenge in the first 5 tags.

Pairing and word count also have to be easy to spot in your header!

Submit: After you posted on Tumblr you have to add yourself and your fic to this doc. If you don’t do this you will not be added to the masterlist I create when the challenge is over. If you got questions - just ask :D

Doc link it case Tumblr is an ass: https://docs.google.com/document/d/11r5CGQXp4UXjG0Tfx0MTai8gxtIxp5YdNJrsbuVcJN4/edit?usp=sharing

How do I join?

You pick a prompt and a pairing off the list. Then you go to this doc to sign up: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xYnJWm5K2XZECz_S1S4ArXy7Ha70qlA3FxMVIujxCzs/edit?usp=sharing

If you got any problems let me know and I will sign you up manually. Any questions are welcomed via asks as well.

Prompts and pairings are under the cut.

Prompts1 What if Bucky realized he was injected with super serum before the fall?

2 What if Vision had sided with Ultron?

3 What if our Steve called Mjolnir in the past and Thor had no idea where his hammer went?

4 What if Steve and Thor called Mjolnir at the same time?

5 What if Steve had fallen from the train instead of Bucky?

6 What if the fugitive Avengers hadn’t been offered asylum in Wakanda?

7 What if Tony had died from a heart attack after the battle of New York?

8 What if Steve went looking for Bucky after the battle of New York?

9 What if Sam encountered Winter Soldier in war before meeting Steve?

10 What if Pierto hadn’t died?

11 What if Clint hadn’t got a wife and kids?

12 What if Tony had consulted the others before building Ultron?

13 What if Steve had never found Bucky being held captive during WW2?

14 What if Thor was stuck on Earth when Loki stole his ride home after the battle of NY?

15 What if Natasha had found Clint years earlier (Endgame era)?

16 What if Loki had brainwashed Fury instead of Clint?

17 What if Natasha only trusted Clint for the longest time after he brought her into SHIELD?

18 What if the Avengers went to hunt down Venom?

19 What if Wade Wilson joined the Avengers on a mission?

20 What if Clint had made the sacrifice for the soul stone?

21 What if Natasha knew Bucky/Winter Soldier better than she let on with Steve?

22 What if Sam had been hit by Vision instead of Rhodey during CW?

23 What if Clint hadn’t gone into house arrest and had still been with Cap when Thanos attacked?

24 What if Tony had used Steve’s burner phone to make contact before or when Thanos attacked?

25 What if Sam had refused the shield?

26 What if the Avengers had agreed about the accords and not signed?

27 What if the Avengers had agreed about the accords and signed?

28 What if Loki had been banished instead of Thor?

30 What if Laura had been Clint’s sister (or Barney’s wife) not his wife?

31 What if Clint became Captain America?

32 What if Killmonger had found Bucky?

33 What if Bucky became Captain America?

34 What if Sam as Captain and Bucky build a new team of Avengers?

35 What if the politicians are still scared off/wanting to control the Avengers powers after EG?

36 What if Wanda took over for Nat helping Sam (and Bucky) run the Avengers?

37 What if T’Challa hadn’t won back his throne?

38 What if Wanda had stayed with Steve, Nat and Sam?

Pairings

IF YOU WANNA WRITE A PAIRING I HAVEN’T LISTED HERE - SEND ME AN ASK. I MIGHT SAY YES BUT PLEASE ACCEPT MY NO AS WELL - I HAVE TO READ THESE.

Characters (x reader or oc)

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

Thor Odinson

Tony Stark

Wanda Maximoff

Sam Wilson

Brunnhilde/Valkyrie

Natasha Romanoff

Clint Barton

Ships (all are allowed as poly with reader too):

Stucky

Winterwitch

Winterwidow

Winterhawk

Winterfalcon

Sam x Clint (I don’t know their ship name)

Clintasha

Steggy

Thundershield

Thor x Brunnhilde/Valkyrie (also forgot the ship name)

#kari's what if mcu challenge #mcu writing challenge #challenge

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depressed-kay · 6 years ago

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The Fire Soldier #1

This is a Soulmate! AU

Summary: Zemo thought he had killed all Winter soldiers. But he missed one thing. The Fire Soldier is the most powerful and dangerous Assassin HYDRA has ever created and trained. Bucky and the rest of the avengers find her and try to help her. Will she accept the help and what happens when Bucky finds out she is his soulmate?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

Word count: 1.406

Warnings: some violence, unedited

A/N: I’ll try to update every two days, but don't expect to much from me.. I’m still a bad writer :’D

Enjoy it ^^

[PART 0] [PART 2]

1 week later

Bucky made his way to the infirmary, like everyday in the past week. As soon as he stepped into her room, Bucky asked the doctor out. Like everyday.

"Hello Doc. How is she doing?" Bucky asked concerned. The doctor stopped writing and turned to him.

"Well she is stable. And so far I can't say anything bad about her physical state. We just have to wait until she wakes up." the Doctor stated and walked out of the room.

Bucky walked over to her bed and sat down onto a chair. He looked at her and remembered everything they went through. How they fought against each other and how she always won.

A minute later his thoughts were interrupted by Natascha.

"Hey Bucky, I just wanted to check on you. Are you OK?" Natascha asked him.

"Of course I am. Just remembering something." he answered and Natasha sat down beside him.

"There was this one Doctor at HYDRA who was in charge of her. He wanted us to fight and she easily won. I was there when they tortured her. Sometimes they even had me do it. I hurt her so bad. And then they brainwashed her. And me." Bucky said with a sad voice, while looking at her. "She deserved so much better."

"So do you, James." Natasha said and patted his back. She stood up and left the room, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts.

Not a second later she opened her eyes and started to panic.

"Where am I? And why am I tied up?" she said loudly with a panicked voice.

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." Bucky said calming. Suddenly her handcuffs started to melt and she jumped out of the bed.

"You're the Winter Soldier.. You're not going to hurt me again." she said threatening. Her whole body started to burn. Her blonde hair flies softly through the air as she embraced the flames.

"I am not going to hurt you! I'm not with HYDRA anymore! They used me and hurt me to!" Bucky said frightened. He hoped he could calm her , but from how it looked like it didn't work.

"You're lying!" The girl yelled and shot a fire beam at Bucky. He dodged and ran towards her. The fire alarm went off and water sprinkled from the ceiling. As the girl was distracted, Bucky tackled her and held her down.

"Don't make me do this!" He yelled and she spit fire at him. "You asked for this! желание. лед. семь. рассвет.."

"This won't work, you idiot!" she yelled and struggled underneath him.

Bucky continued: "семь.. доброкачественный.. девять.. возвращение домой..один..клетка."

He watched her and suddenly she didn't struggled anymore. But then she just started to laugh and threw Bucky off of her. He flew against a wall and the girl stood up.

"How is this possible?" Bucky asked shocked. "This should have worked!"

"Surprise, Winter Soldier!" She said laughing. "This never worked on me.. No one can manipulate me. NO ONE!" The girl walked towards the Winter Soldier and kicked him out of the room. Not a moment later Natasha appeared with Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.

"Bucky , you alright?" Steve asked while he helped him up. Bucky nodded and took a few deep breaths.

"Ma'am, we just want to help you." Steve said and walked forwards. And suddenly he fell down to his knees. Screaming and obviously in great pain.

"Steve!" Bucky yelled and ran to him. Tony and Natasha made themselves ready to fight the girl. Tony got into his suit and shot at her. She was so distracted that it hit her and she flew against the wall.

The girl had a large wound on the back of her head, but it healed instantly leaving just blood behind on her clothes. As she started to burn again Bucky yelled at her.

"Evelyn! Stop it now! We can explain everything to you, just stop!" and then she stopped. If this were HYDRA they would've inject her with a Serum, that would make her unconscious. But they didn't.

"Then talk." she said and the pain that haunted Steve was gone. They led her out the infirmary and into a big room that looked like a living room. There were other people sitting too.

They sat down at a big table and then they started to talk.

"May I introduce myself?" Steve asked and Evelyn nodded. "I am Steve Rogers aka Captain America and I am an Avenger. We all are Avengers. And this is the Avengers HQ. We are here to help people not to hurt them." They all introduced themselves.

Tony Stark aka Iron Man, Natasha Romanoff aka Blackwidow, Bruce Banner aka Hulk, Sam Wilson aka Falcon, James Rhodes aka War Machine, Wanda Maximoff aka Scarlet Witch, Vision and Peter Parker aka Spider-Man. The only one who was not here is Thor. Then the only one left was Bucky.

"So, you know who I am. And I know we didn't met on the best circumstances and what I did to you is unforgivable but this wasn't me. Steve freed me from HYDRA and not only Steve but the whole Avengers." Bucky said with a sad smile on his face as he remembered how he got accepted by everyone.

"I'm sorry that I hurt some of you. I really thought you are with HYDRA. Before they froze me, the Doctor said something to me.. He said that the next time they will unfreeze me, I will destroy the enemies of HYDRA. They always thought that they brainwashed me, but no one can mess with my mind. My body heals everything in a second. Even the state of my mind. So I played along the whole time." Evelyn said.

"Well, you burned and ruined our infirmary but we want you to stay here. We can't risk you going out and kill everything in your way" Tony said.

"That might sound harsh, but Tony's right. It's the safest option for you and for everyone else." Steve explained. "We have a brand new room for you. Bucky will show it to you."

Everyone stood up and left, minding their own business for the rest of the day. The only one left was Bucky and he stared at Evelyn.

"I know we hadn't the best start and you only know me as the Winter Soldier, but let me introduce myself to you one more time." He said to her. "My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky and literally everyone else too. And I know I hurt you a lot and I'm very sorry but this wasn't me. I hope you can understand it."

"Nice to meet you James Buchanan Barnes. I'm Evelyn Cole and I'll forgive you, under one condition. You have to buy me some coffee and maybe even show me some stuff from this century. " Evelyn said and smiled lightly at Bucky while she shook hands with him.

Bucky led her towards the bedrooms and showed her, where everyone of them slept. Luckily Bucky's room was next to hers.

Both of them went in and Evelyn was shocked. Her bedroom was very large, it had a big comfy bed, a big closet with lots of clothes in it, a huge TV and a desk with a brand new laptop. On her bedside table was a note with a credit card and a smartphone.

The note said:

Hello Evelyn. I hope you feel comfy in your new bedroom, I left you a credit card and a new smartphone here. Because you will need it. There is also a wallet inside your bedside table, with an identity card, insurance cards, a debt card and 100 bucks. I also left a emergency contact information in your wallet. We'll talk tomorrow. Hope you like it T. S.

"Tony Stark bought this all for me?" Evelyn asked. Bucky just nodded and sat on her bed. "The room even has a bathroom?"

"James, could you explain me how this thing works?" Evelyn asked and held her smartphone in the air.

"It sounds nice when you say my name. And of course I'll do it." He answered and she sat down beside him.

As she gave him the smartphone, he saw the date and the initials on her wrist.

J. B. B. 10th March 1917

Bucky was shocked. She was his soulmate and he finally found her. And he couldn’t believe it.

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creideamhgradochas · 6 years ago

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Thanks to the lovely @youngmoneymilla for taking the time to answer these! Get to know more about lovely Eliza, go give her a follow and then show her some love!

These questions are from this list. You should check it out, there’s 50 questions all together and they’d be great to ask your favorite fic writer!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fan-fiction?

2) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

I did love writing OC’s because I have a lot of fun with physical description. However, that was when I wasn’t aware of Reader Inserts since I just recently came back into the fanfic world. Reader Inserts are great because I have to work that much harder on giving them a backstory/personality and not focus at all on physical description. Plus, everyone gets to read the work and hopefully find themselves in it. The only thing I hate is being unable to use a name. I can’t write “Y/N” bc it bugs me haha.

3) What is your favorite genre to write for?

Ummm Angst probably? I’m a huge horror fan so, I’m trying to incorporate that into more work.

4) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

“It Would Have Made it True” just because I didn’t really connect with it that much and the ending was rushed.

5) When is your preferred time to write?

11 am to 10 pm haha. I’m an asshole and write a lot during my job.

6) Where do you take your inspiration from?

I have about a million fics bookmarked from over the years, literally fics from when I was in high school to now. They’re so gorgeously written and they inspire me to write. I pretty much only read non-fiction outside of fanfic so, that doesn’t really work.

7) What’s your favorite scene that you’ve written?

Bathtub/Bedroom scene in the second part of “Bungalows and Baths”

8) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

Yep. In one fic, I included a descriptive characteristic for the reader that implied she was white. It hadn’t even occurred to me but, I immediately fixed it when someone pointed it out.

9) Who is your favorite character to write for? Why?

Tossup between Bucky and Steve. Bucky has the very obvious trauma and grief that’s interesting to write about but, Steve has a lot of buried darkness that’s subtle and extremely intriguing.

10) Who is your least favorite character to write for? Why?

Maybe Bruce? I don’t care that much for his character (despite the fact I love Hulk)

11) How do you come up with the titles for your stories?

A lot of the time, it’s a line that’s said throughout the narrative. However, I have a word doc filled with random quotes I like and I usually throw something together. I always think up the title at the end and it’s always an afterthought. Titles blow.

12) What do you think is the best idea you’ve had for a story so far?

I am currently writing a Bucky x Reader fic (TRYING TO AT LEAST) that is going to take the team to New Orleans. It’s going to involve vampires since I wrote a novella about vampires back in high school and want to re-explore that mythology. However, there is going to be a lot of twists and it won’t be an AU, it’s just introducing the possibility of vampires in the MC universe. The reader and Bucky will both be struggling with the idea of themselves as monsters and trying to help themselves through that. It’s going to be a lot of voodoo and magic and angsty “will they, won’t they”. I’m going off on a tangent now but, that’s the gist. I have not written an actual series in a long time so, this would be my first one.

13) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

There are many half-filled one- page word docs on my desktop that are rotting away as we speak. I just get bored or think of something else.

14) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

I’d love to do more fics with the same reader from Bungalows and Baths.

15) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Lol I’m actually annoyed with how I ended 6 Times right now. Not sure why.

16) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Omg I admire so many but, here are a few.

@bitsandbobsandstuff – obviously for her “Safe with Me” piece which is fantastic, emotional and well-paced. Pacing/keeping the reader on their toes is the hardest thing for me in a series and so, I really admire her ability to do that. I also LOVED her “A Million Invisible Threads” piece because it’s such a gorgeous character study on the Winter Soldier

@a-splash-of-stucky – She’s the Queen of Angst duh and a GORGEOUS writer. I love her stuff. A Messed Up Place left me weak.

@imhereforbvcky – Her “Mirror for the Sun” fic inspired me to start writing from Bucky’s POV actually. She’s just a beautiful writer.

@tilltheendwilliwrite – I love everything she writes. I love all the mythology she brings to her fics while still staying within the Avengers universe. Her smut is on another level, too. I find myself rereading her stuff again and again.

17) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Here and there. There are definitely moments in a fic where I think why did I keep that. It’s usually because I ended it too quickly or just wanted it over.

18) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

I love music when I write fics. It’s all movie scores. I have a spotify playlist for it.

19) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

I’ve cried (ish) when writing anything that has to do with alcohol/substance abuse. I’ve been in and out of AA for the past two years and have finally started recovery again. I also have depression so, writing about that can leave me raw. Writing truly always helps though.

20) Which part of your fics have been the hardest to write?

SMUT. Jesus Christ. I struggle so hard with making smut sound hot, as well as lyrical so, it can fit with the narrative. I don’t want to reuse anything I’ve used in other fics before or repeat words but, it’s SO hard (pardon the pun). I always forget what position they’re in and where the body parts need to go. It’s legitimately why I have yet to write a Stucky x Reader fic. I can’t introduce another person into my difficult SMUT journey.

21) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

I usually have a general idea and I’ll have a very vague outline going. I just write everything out like word vomit and go back and edit.

22) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fan-fiction?

That some of the best stories I’ve read aren’t necessarily the ones with the most likes or comments. I stumble upon stuff and wonder “HOW DOES THIS NOT HAVE 2K LIKES”.

23) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

That’s tough. Maybe the stuff I wrote in the beginning where I didn’t have many followers. I loved the concept of “You Don’t Mean for it to Happen” but, sometimes I want to rewrite the whole thing. I put a lot of myself into “I Think of You All the Time” but, I feel like that got some good traction. IDK. Bungalows and Baths got a crazy amount of love. Did not expect that but, v grateful.

24) In contrast to 23 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Nope. I appreciate any love haha.

25) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Well, I think it goes without saying that every reader character has a little bit of the author in there. I think I pull from some of my friends but, not really.

26) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

Someone once said that their soul was marked by “Bungalows and Baths” which was amazing haha.

27) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

I haven’t really gotten criticism other than that time I screwed up on including a feature for a white reader. I felt terrible about that.

28) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

Not really. I don’t have people to share them with haha.

29) Do people know you write fan-fiction?

My best friend knows but, she doesn’t read fanfic. Shockingly, my mom and sister know but, I told them that they could never read them. I just share reviews with them. My mom likes to know that I’m staying creative.

30) What’s you favorite minor character you’ve written?

Oh jeez idk if I have one. Natasha isn’t considered a minor character but, she usually plays a side character in my stories and she’s fun to write for.

31) What spurs you on during the writing process?

Once I get started, I’m usually good at keeping it going. Music helps.

32) What’s your favorite trope to write?

Probably slow burn romance or one of the lovers is injured/captured. I also am a huge sucker for love triangles because I’m greedy AF.

33) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

Lawl this might not have been the first one but, I read a Lizzie Mcguire SMUT piece when I was maybe in 6th grade and was severely chilled to the bone. I was trash even at 12.

34) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Angst. I always write better when I’m emotionally distraught and tortured. Although as I get older, I realize this isn’t fabulous for my own mental health.

#milestone celebration #ask the author #youngmoneymilla

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readerwinterbarnes · 7 years ago

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Motionless - Pt. 20/21

Bucky x Reader, OC’s, Avengers

Summary: The team come back to check up on their teammate and to welcome the two newest members of their family and a plan is made.

Word Count: 2,989

Warnings: Recovery, babies!! No real warnings, just tons of fluff really, tiny bit of smut, swapping POV

A/N: I'M STILL HERE GUYS!! Don’t worry! School’s starting in a few days, so I’ve been trying to get stuff done in preparation for that, but I’ll try to post as much as I can. Anywho, can you believe it? We only have one more part left! It’s been such an adventure and roller coaster writing this for all of you, but I had such a blast!! Let me know how you liked this part!

Reader’s POV

You along with the others piled back into the cars and rushed back to the tower. Steve was literally buzzing with worry for Bucky, the others fidgeting nervously in their seats. You continued with your breathing exercises from your therapist, in order to stay calm. When Bucky laid down with you on Tony’s balcony for your star gazing date, he told you more about the serum. What it does, how it affects him, what its soul purpose was. If it wasn’t for that certain conversation, you would be a complete wreck right now.

Luck was definitely on the team's side as traffic wasn’t that busy and cut the time in getting back to the tower in half. As soon as the cars were parked, everyone piled out of the vehicles, Steve helping you out of the seat and into the wheelchair. Then the group made their way into the main lobby of the tower. Dr. Cho was ready to greet them, the expression on her face giving away her worry.

Tony was the first to speak up, “What’s the diagnosis, doc?” She looked down at the Stark Pad in her hands, then back up to the group.

“I think you all need to follow me.” That was it, there was no further explanations, no other comments, just a quick order and everyone was following behind her, not too excited to hear the news. Helen brings them down to the floor where the Hulk containment room is located, but just before she opens the door leading to the room, she turns around and faces the group.

“I must warn you, that there are some of Tony’s suits behind this door armed and ready if necessary. We needed to take some precautions, but didn’t want to cause him any more harm.” Steve looks at her questionably, you were also worried about how bad this was.

“What do you mean, some of Tony’s suits are in there?” She sighed, a sad look on her face.

“FRIDAY, show them the footage starting from when Mr. Barnes entered containment please.” A screen on the wall lit up and showed the interior of the Hulk Room, then the door opening to reveal one of Tony’s suits ushering a shaking Bucky into the room, then leaving closing the door behind it. What happened next, had the team all on edge with worry. They watched as Bucky screamed as if he was a caged animal ready to kill the handler that had him locked up in the first place. The once dry shirt he wore was now damp with sweat, but it didn’t matter because it was soon ripped off his torso along with the rest of his clothes until he was only in his boxers. There were sharp intakes of breath when his back faced the camera, giving them all a good view of his heavily scarred back and side. The black metal shimmering in the light, contrasting against his red and purple marked skin.

You felt your heart breaking, as you watched Bucky sweat profusely, grabbing his hair, scratching his chest as he tried to breathe even for a second. You cried as you heard his screams billow throughout the room, his skin beginning to flush as his body temperature spiked. Then like a push of a button, the atmosphere changed completely. His body stiffened, an animalistic growl sounded out deep within his chest. The team watched silently as Bucky began to attack the padded door with vigor.

They cringed as he threw himself at the door, beating it to a pulp with his left fist. Managing to tear off the padded interior so it was just metal against metal. Hit after hit, the door began to give way, the door beginning to billow outwards. Which shocked both Tony and Bruce because not only did they just replace that door, they added another alloy to it in which they were more than sure dents wouldn’t be an issue. How wrong they were.

They could hear the metal began to give way, creaking under the pressure of all the built up anger and pain from the force behind it all. Bucky didn’t stop and showed no signs of stopping, even when the metal plates started cutting away at his flesh, leaving a trail of red behind. It wasn’t until a short time after when they heard a loud shout coming from the video. Bucky stilled, right hand clutching the left arm to his chest, leaning his forehead against the door. There was something off about his back, but it was quickly pushed aside as heart-wrenching sobs came through the speakers. His body slid down to the floor and curled up on itself, the video then cut off. FRIDAY turned off the screen, pulling the team back to the present.

“The feed ended just as you guys drove up to the tower. We haven’t entered the room yet just to be safe. From FRIDAY’s readings, his body temperature is now declining, which is good for both our sakes.” Helen told the group as she had FRIDAY open the doors to let them in. Where they were indeed met with a few of Tony’s suits and a billowed outdoor.

“FRIDAY, what’s Barnes’s status?” Tony asked his AI as he made his way towards the room first, Steve following behind him.

“Mr. Barnes has exerted himself of energy, his body temperature is normal, but I’m afraid he’s going to need some medical help, Boss. My scans show that he has quite a few broken ribs from the fight with the door.” Tony nodded as he took in the information, they all heard a quiet voice speak up.

“I’m fine, nothing’ I can’t handle.”

“Mr. Barnes insists he’s fine, Boss, but clearly he’s stubborn and thinks he’s got this handled,” FRIDAY spoke up with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Traitor.”

“I live to please, Mr. Barnes.” The group took a breath of relief and you just laughed, holding your very pregnant belly as your kids began to kick.

“Yes babies, he’s back. Your stubborn, pain in the ass, adorable father is back and going to be just fine.”

“I’m not stubborn and not adorable, I’m a very deadly assassin, fuck I’m the Winter Soldier dammit! Assassin’s aren’t adorable.” Bucky complained from the opposite side of the door and continued to complain as the group laughed for a short bit.

“Alright, let’s get Mr. Grumpy Gills to the infirmary before Y/N kicks all our asses,” Tony replied, waiting until FRIDAY opened the door for them to find Bucky laying on his side on the floor facing them. A scowl on his face, but you could tell he was masking the pain well. You just hoped this wouldn’t set you guys back any further.

Bucky didn’t have to stay in the infirmary for long, Helen kept him overnight just to make sure and practically forced him to meet with his therapist after he was released to discuss his recent episode. You decided to wait in the comfy waiting area until he was finished, it went on for an hour so you took advantage of your location. When Bucky came out of his therapist's office, you were engulfed in the huge fluffy bean bag that was sitting in the corner. You knew it was a bad idea because there was no way you were getting up.

“Doll, you ready to head back?” You look up from where you sat, to see him staring at you a grin forming on his face. “Let me guess, you lost the battle against gravity?”

“Fuck you.” You tried to sound pissed, but just couldn’t because you were so comfy.

“Maybe after the twins are born, yeah?” Bucky smirked at you as he knelt down in front of you, wedging himself between your legs. His hands resting on your thighs, massaging his way up to your hips knowing how sore you were. If you weren’t pregnant you would’ve pulled him closer to get a little more action, but his hands felt too good for you to want anything else.

“Shiiiit, whatever you’re doing don’t fuckin’ stop.” You moaned out as you felt yourself float away in absolute bliss. Bucky’s head tilted back as he laughed, but didn’t stop from what he was doing. He leaned forward and kissed your stomach a few times before locking his curious eyes with yours.

“How’d you get here anyway?” He asked, looking over to the side where your wheelchair sat.

“Steve came by and chatted with me for a bit and I had him place me here because that chair is uncomfortable as fuck and we are SO getting one of these. Or we’ll just steal this one, no one will know it’s missing.” You smiled widely up at him, knowing that you were definitely getting one of these in the future.

“Oh Y/N I love you.” Bucky smiled down at you and moved upwards to kiss you long and deeply. Sliding his hands up your sides so they rested above your head as he carefully situated himself between your thighs. You felt his tongue graze your lips begging for you to open up for him, how couldn’t you? His lips felt perfect against yours, but he tasted even better, so you granted him entrance. It wasn’t much longer until your hands made their way into his hair pulling him closer to you, nails scratching his scalp, causing him to groan out. You smiled into his mouth as you felt him harden against your thigh. This was gonna be fun. Hooking your legs behind his calves, you ran a hand down his chest, making sure to dig your nails through his shirt.

“D-Doll, what are you doing?” He stuttered against your mouth, breath hitching as you toyed with the button of his jeans, grazing the skin just below his navel.

You tilted his head to the side, making your way down his jaw, pulling his earlobe with your teeth, “Relax big guy, you’re too stressed.” Breathing huskily in his ear as you unbuttoned his jeans, the sound of the zipper being pulled down echoing throughout the quiet space. You slipped your hand down his boxers and took his hard cock into your hand, jerking him softly.

“F-Fuck, fuck, Y/N, fuck,” his face dropped to your neck as he began to breathe heavily, whining out as you ran your thumb over his slit. Using his pre-come as lube to help jerk him off, twisting your hand as you neared his head, then gripping the base of his cock only to slide your hand back up.

“Y/N, babe...please, oh god,” Bucky started to rock his hips in time with your hand, desperate for release, “I’m so close.” You smiled into his neck, dragging your teeth across his skin.

“You wanna cum? You wanna cum just by my hand?” He nodded quickly as he began to shake slightly when you picked up the pace. “Then cum for me baby, cum all over my hand.” You said as you sucked a huge mark on his neck, which pushed him over the edge. His hips faltered as he came undone above you, releasing into your hand.

“H-Holy shit that was hot.” Bucky smiled widely above you before crashing his lips into yours.

“Yeah, holy shit is right.” The pair of you froze from the voice across the room, “What the fuck guys? Seriously?!” Glancing over Bucky’s shoulders, you see Steve and Nat standing there. Nat was grinning, but Steve looked pissed, his arms crossed and red faced. Bucky hid his face in your neck as his best friend just stood there, you just laughed and kissed his temple as you tucked him back into his boxers - after wiping your hand off on them- then zipped him back up.

“Oh come on Steve, I’m pregnant and horny, who has a sexy as fuck fiance. Give a girl some credit.” You laughed even harder when Steve started waving his hands around telling you to stop.

“Just, next time do it in a room where people won’t walk in.” You stilled, staring wide eyed at Bucky who’s head jerked up to look at you with the same expression.

“Uh, well...that might have to wait,” Bucky kneeled back and sure enough, there was a wet patch between your legs. “Fuck, my water broke.”

Bucky’s POV

Helen had me wait outside the room as she prepared Y/N, getting her settled to bring our twins into the world. To say I was nervous would be an understatement, I was fucking terrified. The fact that in just a few hours, I was going to be a real father holding and taking care of two kids.

Fuck

Natasha was sitting down flipping through one of the magazines, something about gardening. Or maybe it was food. Fashion? I wasn’t entirely sure because my brain was running a mile a minute as I paced back in forth.

“Barnes, sit down before you hurt yourself, you’re starting to make me feel sick.” She said still flipping through the pages.

“Already did, if you happened to miss the events of this past year,” I grumbled back as I started thinking of way too many things. What will they think of me? Will the serum be passed along to them? What if I have a nightmare and end up scaring them? Hurting them? What if Albern really isn’t dead and he’s just waiting until the twins are born? My thoughts were broken when a soft hand held my face in place, bringing me back to reality.

“Hey, calm down, Yasha, stop thinking like that. You’re going to be a great father, they have you to protect them. And Y/N will be here as well.” I focused on Nat’s green eyes, breathing in and out as I calmed down. The rest of the team filed into the waiting area just as Nat sat back down, Clint sitting beside her.

“So Frosty, you ready to become a father? Got any names picked out yet?” I fiddled with my left shoulder, rubbing the scars there, thinking of Clint’s question.

“Y-Yeah, yeah I am. Y/N and I haven’t thought of names yet, never really had a chance to.” Now I really started to fidget. After all, that’s happened, I still struggled to be in separate rooms from Y/N. I always seemed more at ease when she was in the same room as me, where I could tell she was safe. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long, because Helen walked in with Bruce, smiles on their faces.

“Bucky, are you ready? Y/N’s close and she wants you in there with her.” I looked at Helen then back at the group who were watching me with excitement, then back at Helen.

“Fuck yeah I’m ready,” I stood up with jerky movements, still coming to terms with this actually happening. “Shit, I’m gonna be a fuckin’ dad,” I said softly to myself as I followed Helen and Bruce into the room where Y/N was waiting after they had me clean up a bit. She looked tired and so very ready to push, but there was clearly a hidden fear behind her eyes. I rushed to her side and held her hands.

“Doll, it’s going to be alright. Our little ones will be here soon.” I kissed her temple, leaning my head against hers.

“We can do this, right? Because I can’t do this without you, James.” I let go of her hands to hold her face.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N Y/L/N, you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not. And these kids? Shit, these kids are going to be so spoiled and I can’t wait to watch and help them grow. And to love them with you at my side.” Y/N gave me a watery smile before cringing in pain, squeezing my hands tightly as another contraction hit.

“Y/N, are you ready to meet them?” Helen asked as she sat down in between her legs, nurses at the ready.

“Hell yes,” she quickly pulled me in for a quick kiss, “more than ready.”

It was a long two hours until we met our first child, our son. They let me cut the umbilical cord before a nurse came by with a blanket to clean him up and weigh him. We didn’t have to wait much longer until Y/N’s contractions picked up again. I brushed her damp hair out of her face and whispered encouraging words into her ear.

“Alright Y/N, I’m going to need you to push again,” Helen told her, but Y/N shook her head.

“I-I can’t, it’s too much. It...it hurts Bucky, I can’t do this.” I kissed her tears away and smiled at her.

“You got this doll, just a little while longer before we get to meet her.” That seemed to help because she was ready to push again. I helped her, by sitting behind her to help her sit up. This was probably the longest five minutes of my life, but soon the shrill cry of our little girl filled the room. Y/N sagged back in relief against my chest, crying out in joy. I carefully slipped from the bed to stand by her side as the nurses brought over the twins, all cleaned and swaddled in blankets. I looked at the girl in my arms and the boy in Y/N’s in absolute amazement. Our son was a good healthy 18.5 inches and 6.25 pounds. While our daughter was much smaller, 16.8 inches and 5.52 pounds. But they were both healthy and that’s all that mattered to me.

We were finally a family and I couldn’t wait until we got to show them off to the others.

Motionless Tag List: Bolded ones won’t tag :(

@marvel-fics @green-spotlight @sebs-sugar-cookies @akm0o @extraterrestrialsky @allyp1023 @skeletoresinthebasement @chipilerendi @terminatedimpala

Help Me Tag list:

@believeitseeitdoit @ellen-reincarnated1967 @suchwildloveisthis @skeletoresinthebasement @9erfect-9osts @loverofthosebands @xoxoaudreymarie @dead-silence @winter-in-wakanda @azaleawardrobeo @isaxhorror @lostinspace33 @musichowler @callie-swagg1 @capandbuck @sorryidontspeakgrounder-world @everythingintensifies @melconnor2007 @screechinginternetcoffee @hellstempermentalangel

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bioticgoddess · 7 years ago

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The Mountain (5/?)

Nottes; I’m sorry this is so late! I said I’d post Monday and that didn’t happen (loooong story not so fun or fluffy as this.)

Pairings: Bucky x OC (Taryn Lantz)

Series Summary: The Avengers (Tony really) finds the HYDRA base where Bucky underwent surgery and conditioning in order to make him into the Winter Solider. The mission, and its fallout, do not go according to plan and Bucky’s past comes back to bite them.

Warnings: None. All the fluff in this chapter!

THE MOUNTAIN: Clean Up

The monitors beeped away, they were worse than the slow march of time. Heart rate, breathing, and a half dozen other hospital monitors were hooked up to Bucky Barnes. Had it been hours or days? As he started climbing out of the drug induced haze he’d been in since taking the bullet to his abdomen. Adding it to the list of wounds he’d earned thanks to HYDRA and the Winter Soldier Program. Groaning, he heard someone on his left shuffling. The movements were slow and the hand that clapped on his shoulder was big, heavy.

“Welcome back,” it was Steve.

Eyes cracking open, he could see the other super soldier. “Hoorah,” Bucky croaked. There’d been a tube down his throat at one point. Speaking even the one word had revealed just how raw is throat was.

There was a cup and some food on the small wheeled table that Steve moved into place over Bucky’s legs. “Doc made sure something was here for when you woke up,” he said as the brunette fumbled with the hospital bed remote. They were still in the Compound – that much he could tell from the décor.

“Woo,” he said, taking the water cup first – that he needed more than anything. Taking a few swigs of the room temperature fluid, he could feel Steve watching. Hovering, like a frantic mother hen. Hadn’t that been his job? Mr. Mom, take care of everyone? Oh how times had changed. Sighing, he asked, “How bad,” pointing to himself and then making a circle with his free hand. He absolutely wanted to know what Arkady had accomplished besides nearly killing him.

Steve chuckled, “Well, I don’t want to be on the receiving end of Taryn’s powers, ever.” Bucky quirked an eyebrow, giving Steve a face that practically ordered him to continue. “She and Bruce – well, the Hulk – took care of the guys Arkady brought with him. SHIELD was able to round them up, well, except for the guy that fell down a few stories. But that was on Hulk. Sam shot Arkady, both are in intensive care. Sam’ll be alright but they’re not sure Arkady will regain consciousness.” No one was exactly sure how he’d survived – between Bucky’s beating and Sam’s bullets.

Bucky interrupted, “Good.”

Shaking his head, Steve continued, “Sam managed to save both of us. One good shot to the back of the neck, near the base of the skull took him down.” He paused, “Don’t think it helped him any that when she saw what had happened, after regaining her sense, Taryn threw an energy pulse at him.” Had Bruce not been there to catch her, Steve was sure the Inhuman would’ve either passed out or started throwing things like kitchen crockery at the prone Arkady.

There was shuffling outside his room in the medical bay’s hallway. As he walked past, leaning on a crutch, Sam yelled, “I still hate you Ice-man!” He didn’t but the snide remark made Bucky laugh. Poor choice – laughing still hurt.

“Did I mention you have a number of cracked ribs,” Steve added when his veritable brother grimaced.

Sighing, Bucky noted, “No, you didn’t. Um,” he started, realizing the Inhuman was nowhere to be found in his recovery room, “1. How long was I out? And 2. Where is Taryn?”

“Three days and I finally had to order her out – didn’t know when she’d slept last prior to this,” it was Steve’s turn to talk with his hands, indicating the hospital room. Bucky nodded in response. Not having her there when he woke up made sense now, it was still disappointing not seeing her face but at least she was okay. After everything that had happened on the Mountain and because of it, he didn’t think he could stomach losing her too the chaos.

Natasha found her in the room Bucky and Taryn shared, curled up in a ball on the bed. She had her arms wrapped around one of the hoodies she routinely stole from the super soldier, face buried in it. It was like deja vu - seeing her like this echoed how Bucky had been following her near-death. The only difference was that they knew Bucky would be alright. Or at least that they could help him.

There was a moment when she wanted to sit next to her friend and hold her tight. At least, unlike weeks earlier, she had good news. Swallowing, brushing a few strands of her bright red hair back off her face, Natasha started, “Steve just texted me,” holding her phone up as if showing the message to her friend. “Bucky’s awake,” she continued, plopping down next to the brunette. “So what do you say we get you dressed and down to see the dork.”

For the first time in days, the brunette laughed. It was soft, tired, like she didn’t have the energy for it. “Hey,” she said, gently pulling her braid, “C’mon you.”

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” Taryn said, untangling herself from the blankets and Bucky’s hoodie. “See, vertical,” she said, sticking her tongue out at the other Avenger as she rose up to kneel on the mattress.

Nat laughed. “Doesn’t count ‘til you’re out of bed!”

“Oh my god, you and my mother,” she shot back, sliding off the mattress on the side opposite Natasha. She wasn’t paying much attention to anything her friend was saying beyond the push to get up. Bucky was awake! All she cared about was seeing her friend and lover, wanting to make sure he was okay.

Bucky threw his head back – poor choice. It started throbbing again and he groaned, sinking further down into the medbay bed. He hated being bed ridden. It reminded him of all the times he’d had to take care of his siblings or Steve when they were kids. “Can I please go back to my room Doc,” he called out.

No response.

He groaned piteously.

“Don’t sound so blue Sarge,” Taryn said from the door. Natasha was standing behind her, an uncharacteristically dopey gin on her face.

Looking between the two women, Nat shoved her friend into Bucky’s room. Pulling the door closed behind her she blocked Steve’s entrance, “We’ll give you two some privacy.”

“Hey doll,” he smiled, sitting up straight in the bed. At least as straight as the thing would allow. Patting the mattress next to him, he asked, “You okay? Did you get hurt at all?”

Climbing in next to him, Taryn shrugged, “Got shot in the leg, same place I had that gash.” Her feet hung off the side as Bucky wrapped his arms around her, “Nothing a few stitches and a long lecture from Steve about watching my corners didn’t fix.” That got the super soldier laughing. He could see it now: Taryn, sitting on a gurney in the med bay, Doctor Cho or one of her medtechs stitching up the bullet holes,” Wait, you got shot?!”

“Yea...Hulk kinda pointed it out, promise I’ll tell you the story when you’re not on bed rest and recovering from a gunshot wound the chest. Which, I have words for you about that,” her tone changed, eyes narrowed and she gave him a look that would curdle milk. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

His metal hand cupped the side of her face and pulled her to him. Lips met and let out a startled squeak, it made him chuckle softly as they kissed. “I’ll shut up now,” she whispered, a smile spreading across her face.

“Still picturing Steve reading you the riot act,” foreheads pressed together he continued, “I can see the annoyed pouty face you made.” As if on queue she made one at him, “That one!” Bucky kissed her again.

She shifted in the bed, cuddling up close to him, “You’re a butthead sometimes y’know?”

“I hate to point it out but -” he started, Taryn’s index finger across his lips silencing him.

“Super soldier serum doesn’t make you indestructible Bucky,” she said, knowing what he was about it say. It was always the argument the brunette made when he took a serious injury like this. Or chose to jump out of a perfectly good airplane - and not use a parachute. The number of times she or Wanda had needed to use their powers to insulate him from hitting the ground at terminal velocity was ridiculous. Or Sam had shot down to grab him before the other Super Soldier hit the ground. “You’re one of if not the best fighter I know but you always fight like there’s something to prove when it comes to anything related to HYDRA or the Winter Soldier Project.”

He’d set his jaw, relaxing some when one of her hands came up to rest against his face, “Bucky. I don’t know what I’d do if you…” She trailed off, unable to say the words. It was a thought he’d contemplated heavily when all reports presumed she was dead after the foray into the Mountain. When their positions were reversed he’d prayed for any opportunity to switch places with and save her. It didn’t occur to him what his potential death might mean for her.

His other arm circled around her waist, “I’m not going anywhere Doll. I promise.”

Feedback is welcome! Tags are open!

#bucky x reader #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x reader #james buchannan barnes #james buchanan barnes x oc #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #the mountain fanfic #captain america #the avengers #inhumans #steve rogers

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punkandsnacks · 4 years ago

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Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Fourteen; Ambush.

Author: @punk-in-docs & @adamsnackdriver

Also on AO3-

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: !!! illness and swooning in this chapter, I mean, seriously, a regency era fic isn’t a regency era fic without the heroine getting caught in a rainstorm-!!!

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

All was eerily quiet when she was returned home. The front exterior of the house is so cold and still. As cloudy as the overcast sky behind it.

The rain had eaten away all the lingering frost and snow. Cold slush now took its place. When night falls again all the wet will sharpened back into frost. More snow will doubtless come in this stinging winter. She can sense the chowder thick clouds far off in the heavens shudder with the possibility of more.

Even the icy landscape was unaffected by wind or noise. Everything was silenced. Blotted out and muffled. The woods seemed eerily quiet.

Means she could hear where her heart was thudding all the more noisily where it cowered scared in her ribs.

She alighted from Lord Ren’s carriage, onto the gravel drive, sitting the door thereafter. Thanking Ramsey, the kind driver. When he cracked the whip to start the horses her whole being tensed. She flinched.

Her heart seized up with every crunching step on the gravel. She tried to clutch to her courage. Grit her teeth and prepare for the audible assaults soon to sting at her ears. As spewed words and vitriol will doubtless fall harsh from her mothers purse lipped mouth like stabbing hard hail.

Death by ten thousand blows of her sharp disapproving tongue.

Her whole body is roiling to head back into this house. She feels nauseas to consider stepping back into the foyer of her home. She knows there will only be nastiness and questions to welcome her into the enfold. Back into the waiting room of her life until marriage comes to claim her.

She’d far rather be back at one of the most handsome houses in the county. Sat fireside, in company with the most intriguing creature she’s ever met. Knowing Kylo as she does, he’d find that most diverting.

Iris hungers much more after the presence of a deadly hulking great vampire instead. Yet she cannot fathom or stand to embrace the company of her acerbic fork-tongued mother.

He’d laugh at that crippling irony, she’s sure. Kiss the back of her hand. His eyes would glitter like two discs of a far off starry night sky. Black and full of hidden knowledge and transient things.

The eyes that had completely seared her soul. Always had done. His smile had broken open her heart and scored his very name on her weak beating muscled thing. It flutters and lives for want of loving him - and yet she can’t. Everything in her situation and home life decrees otherwise.

She wants a man she cannot have. The pain of it presses upon her greatly.

She approaches the stubborn old warped wood of the front door. Steps up onto the wonky sunken stone porch. The faded white paint. Chipped and peeling in many places. Grains of the bare wood poke through.

She wonders what censure awaited on the other side of this old chunk of oak.

She raises a hand but her veins clog with cloying uncertainty. Halting. She gathers herself up before she knocks. Stood there shivering in her laundered coat and dress. Kylo had insisted on seeing to some new boots for her. Sadly, her old-beaten cracked leather things could not be salvaged. He sent out for new ones from Mr Grassby’s store. Finest in the county.

Now whenever she has warmed toes she’ll think of him. Fur lined dark leather boots with strong laces. She can’t thank him enough.

She tugs her old coat around herself. Not aware that Kylo would’ve had her an entire new coat and dress to go home in, if he wasn’t so sure of her protest. He let her be. But he so badly wants to see her spoiled. He so badly wants to be the man who does spoil her.

Her clean cotton skirts sway about her legs. How the redoubtable Mrs Jones had gotten the mud stains out of her clothing she’d not a clue - the woman used witchcraft as an aid she’s sure. In most things.

The broth she’d served Iris was of her own recipe, harping back to her days as a ladies maid. And, she proudly exclaimed, every ladies maid worth her very honour and credibility, knew how to make a restorative broth. Iris supped four bowls of it right down. It was utterly ambrosial.

Oddly, her spirits were lifted a little by thoughts of them. Of how they conveyed their kindness to her. She’s almost certain it stemmed from Kylo’s fondness for her too. And that is such a lovely thing to consider.

She thinks of Jomar. The slender tall poplar tree of a man. She thinks of his sour wit and his ready quips to his master. His cinnamon and warm honey and milk of a voice. The way each of his fine satin coats smell like cloves and sweet fruit and honey wine and life. The fine bright silk of his turban and his coat. The slash of silver on his right wrist. Always exotic and wryly comforting.

She thinks of Mrs Jones. The stout bodacious shaped woman. Accurate as a well turned clock. She had an efficient manner. Dark brittle russet hair shot through with bolts of fantastic silver. Always styled neat as a pin. She had a handsome mature face with ruddy cheeks and a pair of warm grey eyes that turned cold like harsh heavy gravestones if she was displeased with anyone. Hinting at her years of hierarchy in the household. Wrinkles by her eyes and mouth from her smiles. The best way to age, Iris thought.

She wore her strictly pressed uniform of soft black. With a set of keys latched to her waist. Orderly and strict in comparison to the colourful candour of Jomar. They worked well as a pair of contrasting servants. And she could see why Kylo loved them enormously. After three mere days at Hellford, she did too.

She recalls fondly waking up to the sight of Lord Ren in the armchair by the end of his bed. Leafing through the pages of a book as she slept. Keeping watch. The beast Keeping thorough guard of his Dove.

She watched him, through hooded bleary eyes. Sticky with sleep but she admires the way his big hands so carefully turned the delicate pages. The span of them dwarfing the little novel he so ably devoured.

She wondered how many books he had read in all his time on this earth.... she’d have to enquire one day. She wants to hear everything he’s seen. Every truth. Every historic story or tale he carries with him. She wants to devour this man’s rich juicy brimming life whereas hers seemed so flat and stuffy and grey.

She watches him in that tiny unaware moment. How he breathed. How quickly those savage eyes demolished the words of the page. How his lip quirked at the corner if he read something amusing or interesting. How his ink hair fell over his handsome brow. He didn’t sweep it back. He left it there.

After she’d slept off the symptoms. She wakes up drowsy, and he’s still there. At the end of the bed. Hasn’t moved. And then they just talk.

Interrupted by Jomar or Mrs Jones bringing them trays of excellent food or drink. Bowls of mutton stew dotted with onions, leeks and peas, or silky lobster bisque and warm buttery bread. A tea service with plates piled with fruitcakes or ginger baked biscuits.

She regained her appetites fairly quickly. Kylo comments on this. She fears it appears unfeminine. He ensures her he likes to see a woman with a healthy appetite. Most women of his acquaintance peck at their food like overstuffed starlings.

She praises his cook as she eats through bed tray after bed tray of good restorative food, and his eyes glow with mirth.

It’s humbling. Peaceful.

She forgets that she’s an unmarried woman and he’s a single man of large fortune. Sat up there in that crimson velvety bed. Sheets pulled to her lap. Wrapped up in a nightgown and dressing robe. She must look a fright with barely combed hair and an ashen complexion from her affliction. He sat in the armchair opposite, and didn’t even see all the things she was fretting about. He just saw her. His beauty. His dove.

They just... conversed. And to Iris? It is the best evening of her life to date. She’s never smiled so much. She made him smile too. He laughed at her comments. That one evening with Lord Ren made her feel more cherished and treasured than in all her outings with the spoiled titian haired Sergeant.

She lets that thought and those memories keep her buoyant as she reaches for the door handle. But as she does she shrinks back, yelping in shock as the door is torn open from the other side.

The beaming face of Meg, their maid, greets her. There in her beige gown and white starched apron and cap. Her grin splits her face and she yanks the eldest Miss Ashton inside. Yammering on and on about something Iris’s ears can’t keep up with.

She grabs the back of her collar and spins her around, shrugging her out the coat. Still gabbing on about all she’d missed in her absence. Flora and Posy bought more ribbons. And a Posy bought an ugly bonnet to pull apart and make it up prettier. They’d not had much bother with the rain. And then she starts on asking how Iris is as she takes her bonnet and gloves off her. Snatched them away to hang them up.

Before Iris can fathom how or why, Meg is herding her toward the front parlour. Arm slung in hers, she steps her quickly across to the door. Opens it for her and almost elbows her inside. She stumbles gracelessly into the parlour. Not shocked to see her mother. Swathed in her Apple green muslin day dress. White diamond shawl around her arms.

She is surprised, however. To see Hux sat on the settee opposite her mama. Fully kitted out. Not in his uniform for once. But in a blue coat and a striped gold waistcoat. Bottle green breeches on his skinny legs, tucked into shining brown boots ending at his knees.

When she comes through the door he rises suddenly to attention. Hands tucking behind his back as he bows to her. In this pallid light his hair shone a brilliant red. Contrasting to the pale parlour. His eyes were emeralds and sapphires.

Iris can’t deny he’s a genial man. Red locks and dazzling piercing blue eyes. Curling ocean waves and blazing flames. And he is a beautiful man; were it a time before even meeting or knowing Lord Ren, she would of course comprehend the matter of his allurements.

But she’s been well and truly ensnared. Taken away heart and soul, by hair darker than a ravens plumage, and eyes so dark russet they nearly betrayed the starry sky.

She didn’t want blazing flames and ocean waves. She longed instead for onyx leather, silver steel and cloudy woodsmoke.

Mama seems pleased to see her. A sickly smile stains her lips. Iris’ heart consequently turns to stone. She expected a flurry of abuse and screeches. Instead she is offered this calm grin. It’s unsettling

She is dizzy with sickness that spreads through her. She sways on her feet. Steadies herself on the open door. Stomach squirming like maggots on rotten meat.

“Sergeant Hux...” She curtseys clumsily to him. Meg slams the door softly behind her. Iris blinks at the brute force of it. Jumping forwards a little. The sound of it rattled through the house and knocked through her brittle bones.

“Forgive me. I’d no idea you were in attendance.” Iris looks pointedly from him to Mama. Who grins wider at her eldest’s words.

“I hear you fell ill. Miss Ashton. I do hope you are well recovered.” Hux pipes up.

Standing with his hands folded behind him. Legs poker straight. Military stance infused into every grain of his etiquette. Even every ounce of his affection is quashed under it. Tamped down. His face betrays little emotion on seeing her. There is nothing but fond regard in his eyes.

“Thankyou. I am well. An affliction and a fever, caught from a rainstorm.” She explains. Knowing full well the huskiness of her faded voice supported her story.

“Lord Ren was so... kind. To offer you shelter at such a time.” Mama manages through a clenched jaw. Fussing with the corners of her shawl.

“He is very kind.” Iris defends. Mothers smile only grows all the more. Corners of her dagger grey eyes pinched with wrinkles.

“Let us not talk of that man now. We have far more important things to come to. The Sergeant wished for a moment alone with you.” Mama explains. Rising elegantly to her feet. Gliding in Iris’s direction toward the door.

Iris steps aside. But not before her mothers hand - talon - gripped her wrist and she leaned in under the guise of embracing her daughter. Something she has never done to any of her girls, or ever made any effort to do so.

“It’s so pleasing to have you home again. My dear.” She speaks as she leans in. Iris isn’t surprised that she then hisses under her breath.

“If you dare ruin this chance for us...” She snarls. Her breath lands hot on her cheek. The scent of violet perfume making Iris feel quite sick when mingled with the essence of abuse and the stinging grip on her arm.

Mother is all genial smiles again when she turns to quit the room. The door softly shutting in her wake is a delicate blotted sound.

But Iris is convinced there is some sort of tempest quaking her chest and heart. It pounds and rags the space between her lungs and shoots up her spine like a congreve rocket bursting and deafening in her blood.

She moves closer into the room. Hux stands stiffly but approaches her with timidly cautious steps. She stands with her hands folded in front of herself. He clears his throat to begin.

“I um. I spoke with your father this morning. All seems to be settled hereabouts. I won’t bother you with such details. It’s not for your knowledge...” He begins with a brief little smile. His manner decidedly offhanded.

Iris swallows. Suddenly her throat is clogged with cotton. Her mouth is as dry as a bucket of claggy sand. As if she’s swallowed great mouthfuls of it. She’s waiting for the fall of the axe.

She looks up into his face. He seems jittery. But then he’s reaching over and taking one of her hands to hold. His palms are smooth and uncalloused. She far prefers hands much bigger and with more life scarred on them than these lily white hands. He holds her fingers delicately.

And he sinks to take to one knee-

“I am not a man inundated with passion or words and thoughts of giddy romance. But I can promise you a steady home and a decent income.” He vows. Something tells Iris he would never break his word. She knew he was honest enough to see her comfortable in life.

But that’s the crux of the poison of doubt flushing in her belly - she doesn’t want to just be comfortable for the rest of her life.

“Iris Ashton. Would you do me the honour of granting me your hand in marriage?” He asks in that same loveless way. Producing a box from his great coat pocket.

A gold band with one near round diamond. Neat. Ordinary and unassuming.

She looks down at him. His eyes were clear and true. Expression so vulnerable and honest with her. Whatever else he was - rude, arrogant, pedantic and snotty - he was always atleast honest with her. Her temples strain as her brain flits and fogs with ten thousand flighty thoughts. They fidget and toss like a vicious tide breaking on rocks. Crashing and devastating.

She opens her mouth, and nothing but a choked sound comes out. She rifles every corner of her brain for thoughts or feelings. But she can find none. She can only find one conclusion- even though it shatters her heart into bleeding cold shards.

“Yes. I’d be delighted.” She rasps out. Hux didn’t notice how no light nor sparking joy shone off her grey eyes. Only the silver of tears.

Hand over her mouth because she cannot fully believe what she’s just done. Her eyes water and she suspects Hux now thinks her a very foolish fop of a chittish girl, indeed.

He takes that ordinary and characterless ring and slides it on her finger. It’s just pinching enough to fit. Her hand trembles and Hux takes it.

“There.” He smiles. Rising to his feet. Doesn’t make any move to embrace her. Or take her in his arms. It stings at her for some benign reason. Niggles at the back of her head. He was following the rules of propriety and suddenly she found an oddity in that.

“Our families will be thoroughly delighted. I feel.” He adds. She doesn’t tell him the sad irony of that admission. She swallows and looks down at the cold band of metal trapping her finger.

It felt like the parlour walls were closing in. Choking and clawing at her. Suffocating. Her blood felt ten degrees too hot. Roiling in her stupid foolish veins.

“I can safely vow I will always do the honourable thing by you.” He suddenly spouts out. “I ask you would do the same.”

“Sergeant-“ She begins. Pausing for breath.

“You may of course, call me Hux now. We are betrothed after all.” He points out. Smiling affably. Here began the journey of their affable little life.

She blinks. Stemming the sadness. “I could never presume to-“ Her words die slowly in her throat. Don’t even make it past her teeth.

“I may promise you I would never willingly dishonour or hurt anyone. Let alone my intended. I am many things. But spiteful is not among them.” She promises with a shaky smile. If he knew her better, he’d understand that.

He looks glad.

They are interrupted by the parlour door falling open and Mrs Ashton makes her entrance again. When she catches sight of their smiling faces and the ring glinting on Iris’s hand she swoops across, all charms and kisses, to wish them both joy.

She insists on a dinner party. Sends a Julia to tell cook to start preparing at once. And for Simpson to fetch the finest bottle of burgundy from the cellar. And sends out a rider from the farm with a missive for Hux’s parents to come and join them in a celebratory feast.

Posy and Flora come bouncing and screaming in to wish their congratulations and immediately ask about the wedding and their bridesmaid dresses. They twirl Iris in circles. Kiss her. Flutter with giggles and immature gleeful smiles. Mother, Hux, and her sisters all get lost in gabbling conversation. Asking questions about the estate, the land, his commission. They all get swept along and Iris is rather left out of it.

She barely feels when Hux scoops up and holds the hand closest to him. His grip firm yet gentle on hers.

She’s perfectly numb.

She sits on the settee next to a man she doesn’t and can never love, as her wedding is plotted around her. Carving around her like water. Her sisters excited whispers bubble and chirp around her ears like a flock of chaffinches.

She pasted on a smile. A false hollow one.

The hand he isn’t clutching sits dead and dull in her lap. She looks down at her palm where it rested in her skirts. Remarking to herself unfairly on the sudden ambush of his proposal.

She watches the ring glint off the amber fire, lit directly in the hearth to her left. She stares at her fingers for a moment. Transfixed. Occupied.

Seemed such an odd addition to her hand. An extension of her in diamonds and gold. And it didn’t feel right. It felt leaden. Devoid of love. Lacking- she’s been weighted and found wanting and that thought eats away at her.

She looks up into the doorway when her father comes in to wish her joy. Reticently stepping in the room. No one else pays him any sort of mind. They’re all conversing most animatedly. He catches his eldest daughters eye-

The most sad expression awaits her on his face. He looks haggard. As if this news has aged him in some newly impossible way.

Iris holds his look for a second. Gives him a wobbly smile. He looks mightily ashamed. And Iris realises it’s the first time she’s even seen her fathers eyes look so raw.

Red rimmed where he’s swiped away tears with the damp kerchief still in his right hand. He looks quickly from her over to Hux, and the message is more than clear.

She looks down into her lap. She has too. Her eyes sting with tears and her lip will tremble if she doesn’t. She can’t look at his sadness and not see her own pitiful state and woefulness reflected right back at her in his sea foam eyes.

Even he pulls on a mask. His smile grows when Hux stands to shake his hand. He looks as pleased as everybody else in the room. Wishes joy to the newlyweds. Kisses iris on the cheek and she feels the dampness on his skin where his sideburns scrape.

The dreary night wears on. Hux talks about something or other to Mama. Posy and Flora are haranguing the newly arrived Maratella with questions as to the estate. They’re all insensible and silly and they get on marvellously. And Iris listens to her sisters have the cheek to ask if they should get up a party to all of them go to Brighton in summer. As Iris is now newly engaged. She’s considered proper. She can chaperone them. Or they squeal she could have an engagement party with tea and fancy cream cakes to settle Iris at Hux’s ancestral seat.

Brendol is having a refill of wine poured by their maid. Not saying much of anything to anyone. Only some nonsense about how Iris had better bare his son a healthy string of grandsons. Who would all be soldiers like their father. Iris bites her tongue. Unhappy to think she’d go through the pain of having beloved and cherished children, only for him to sell them into battle as canon fodder.

“Excuse me. I must go change for dinner.” She smiles weakly. Hux nods. Lets her hand slither out of his. Barely looks at her as she moves off. Instead talks with her mother about a date to set the wedding. Sometime soon, he presses. As he is away in the autumn and he wants to be married, and Iris settled with child by then. Awfully grand that his goals didn’t seem to include her opinion at any turn.

Mama seems awfully excited. She doesn’t notice when Iris’s father catches her hand as she moves past his armchair. He holds it for a second and looks up at her. Doleful reproach in his eyes that spoke eloquently of his contrition.

He sighs slightly as his thumb rubs over the ring on her hand. He knows she won’t be happy. He knows how miserably she suffers all this matchmaking. He should have put a stop to it, but he was always overruled. He was a spectator watching it all unfold.

And now he has to sit here and watch the brightest spark that was his eldest, get shackled in matrimony to a man who will never grow to love her. It was clear that all Hux will ever love is his uniform and his Sergeancy. She deserves better. A better father, a better fiancé. He wishes he could give it to her.

He didn’t marry for love. He married for convenience. And his sweet girls are the only good things to come out of the loveless match to the snappish cruel woman that was his wife. Posy and Flora are perhaps silly and vapid. And Iris had more wit in her little toe, than his two younger girls had in their whole bodies altogether. But still he loves them dearly. All of them.

He’d die for his daughters merriment, and he could die of shame of this whole fetid situation, right here and now.

Now he was sat here, helpless, watching that same agony of a forced match, get thrusted upon his beautiful Iris. She will grow dull and be subjugated and oppressed by this man. She’s already losing that spark that used to live in her moonstone eyes. Drawing into herself and biting her tongue.

He wished, he wished beyond everything in his grasp, he wished so hard that his bones hurt. He prayed that he could open his mouth and say all this to her. But yet again. He must prevail upon his silence.

He squeezes her hand. Bolsters her with a little comfort. He swallows and gives her a smile. “Pray- t’is nothing. Forgive me. I forget what I...wanted to say.” He confesses gently to her.

When Iris slides noiselessly out the parlour door. Caroline’s eyes slice into her husband. He looks back at her with a dull look of anger on his weathered face. Forcing Iris to join with this snobbish boy and these outlandish and boastful people. He could very well hate her for it. Her unfeeling nature of it all. He’s never been more sure of his revulsion toward her.

Iris isn’t long changing and dinner is not far off either. She drifts back downstairs in a gown of emerald silk. Let’s Hux take her arm and lead her to the table, where they all sit down to a grand dinner. As grand as Westwell could boast of, anyhow.

One of Mrs Murphy’s best spreads; A boiled joint of ham, served with parsley sauce. A leg of mutton. Enough boiled or roasted potatoes to feed all of Hampshire. Jugged hare and creamed celery and Buttered carrots. And there’s plenty of juicy platters of rich darkly opulent fruits and syrup tarts for pudding. A slate of plums and grapes and pomegranates. Surrounding a cheese plate of Stilton, Brie, and cheddar.

Iris doesn’t manage more than a couple of mouthfuls. Even though the boiled ham with parsley sauce is her favourite dish. She doesn’t manage to swallow down more than a few meagre scraps of it. The wine and the conversation flows all around her. She cannot help but be introspective about this whole sordid thing.

Her throat is cloyed. Like scraping fire and glass shards when she tries to swallow anything. It does nothing to nourish the fathomless pit that’s formed in her stomach.

Everyone raises a crystal goblet of Bordeaux to the newlyweds health.

Maratella comments that Hux has caught himself a fine bride. Winking at Iris. Crowing of how beautiful her first grandchild will be of their combined colouring. And she apparently wants a bushel of them.

“It will be so cheering to have a house full of young infants again. Little ones to dote on. I do so adore them and I’m most looking forwards to it.” Maratella cooed. Aiming her words to Mrs Ashton. But letting her daughter-in-law hear them too.

Iris swallowed her wine with a thud. She can’t even appreciate the bouquet of it tonight. Her tongue is too sour. The wine tastes like bilious floral soap and compost.

She looks down in her lap, fiddles with her napkin. Forces herself to smile and choke down the sip of it even though Maratella and her insinuation and the suffocating image of a houseful of squalling titian haired infants makes her feel quite sick.

Hux makes no comment either. He merely carries on chewing his slices of roast mutton. Flora and Posy ask Iris a million questions each, in the span of ten minutes. She answers succinctly and completely ignores their requests for silken bridesmaids dresses and new slippers.

Iris’s eyes flicker over to her mother when Maratella enquires as to her recent fevered affliction at Hellford park. Mama does not hold back in her derisions regarding Lord Ren.

“I know not in what kind of uncultured society that man was raised. But he is so uncouth. And superior.” Mrs Ashton offers.

“I find his manners a little odd. Thank goodness the attachment is severed for good now.” Maratella says.

Mrs Ashton turns to get a helping of creamed celery. Iris gives her daggers across the table.

When their guests depart to leave, after supper and after a game of whist and snifters of port or sherry in the parlour. Iris stands there in the cold foyer as her intended pulls on his coat.

She nods her goodbyes to him and his family as Brendol barks at him from the coach to get a move on. Maratella waves a hand at her husbands fussing. Cooing that they should take all the time they liked to share a goodbye.

Hux bends and places a find kiss on her hand. “Goodnight. Future Mrs Armitage Hux.” He states with a pink blush constrasting to his shock of combed copper hair.

He smiles at her before he ducks out of the door and off into the night. She watches the bare moonlight shine off his hair and his lanky shoulders in his big greatcoat. Pearled light feathering off his red locks as the blue black night swallows him up.

She doesn’t stay to watch the carriage leave. She turns and morosely trudges up to her room. Asks Meg to bring her up a cup of tea as soon as cook could spare her. She can feel Mothers eyes pin into her back like two silver needles as she ascends the creaking dark sloped stairs.

“Iris...” She calls out. It takes every ounce of energy in her body not to turn around and snarl seven thousand cursing obscenities at her.

Ensnaring her with such a sudden proposal. Gloating smug glances at her all night. Iris couldn’t stand it.

“Yes mother?” She asks.

“We are all excessively happy about this news today. I hope you’ll do nothing senseless so as to jeopardise it. Hux is a steady good man. You should endeavour to deserve such a good example of a husband.” She reminds with pinched savagery in her tone.

‘Should I?’ Iris remarks to herself.

“If you ruin such a good match. You will regret it. And no such other man may ever make an offer to you if you do.” She makes clear.

Words lingering just shy of a threat. She was much too cunning to have to threaten her eldest daughter. She speaks as if her words already make sense to Iris. As if she already had her agreement.

Iris stands still. She stares up into the darkness of the house ahead. “Goodnight mama.” She says flatly. Hiking her body up the remaining stairs.

She passes Posy and Floras room on the creaking landing. The slice of gold candlelight under the door eats at her skirts as she passes. Hears them giggling and hushing whispers to each other as they make ready for bed. The silly chits probably stole too many glasses of wine at dinner. She remembers a time when she used to join them. Sit on the end of their beds in her nightgown with her hair all plaited for bed. They’d talk - as sisters do - of silly things and gossip.

Until mama made her focus on more important things. Less sisterly affection. More concentration and focus on comportment. She sadly strokes a hand across their bedroom door. Smiles at the embroidered flower stitchings of their names pinned to the white painted door along with dried flowers. Scattered across like a meadow breeze tossing petals on the wind.

She wishes they knew how dear they were to her. Of course she calls them bugs. Or annoying pests. But she never, not once, went one day without loving her sisters for who they are. They can be acerbic like mother when gossip comes about and tongues start to wag. But they are ultimately kind hearted, affectionate and silly. She hears them giggle about the hideous bonnet Maratella wore tonight. It makes her smile and lifts her spirits for a second.

She pats the door silently and fondly before she moves off straight down the candle lit hall to her own room. She opens the whining door and looks around her meagre, half dark little room. The wall-to-wall flowery papered little cell that it was. Her waiting room until marriage came to claim her.

And come it had. On mighty swift wings thanks to her mother. She shuts her door and presses her back to it. Thuds her head back onto the wood. Let’s her true feelings come bubbling up to the surface for the first time all night.

She’s broken-hearted. Her pathetic heart feels like one of those great ice drifts in the Antarctic, a plain of land with a huge tearing rift ripped right through the middle. Severing it to clunky misshapen pieces that will never mend.

She thinks of the monotony of the life that awaits her. The house full and long line of squawking babies she and Hux are supposed to sire. Staying chained to the stove and the nursery to look after said children whilst her husband ventures off to war and glory. Being no more to him than a bedding partner and general broodmare to keep up the family honour.

She thinks sadly on having to tell Lord Ren she’s engaged. How his eyes will glitter and cut her like jagged onyx gems. How his handsome face will fall into a stoic mask. Maybe he’ll wish never to see her again? Who knows how his reaction will be.

She wished to curl up under ten thick blankets, into a little ball, and fade away to dust. Like the dead grey ashes under the fire basket in her hearth.

She thinks she might cry herself away to sleep. She can’t escape the irony of that. Most girls perched on wedded bliss didn’t sob themselves to slumber. They fidgeted and giggled and practiced swirling their initials with their intendeds in neat hand. They were struck down lovesick. Admiring their ring. Imagined themselves walking down the aisle in their Sunday best and a veil, clutching at a wedding bouquet.

Iris had none of that. The thought of walking down the aisle to Hux and the boxed in little life thereafter, made her want to dry heave until she coughed out her lungs.

She prepares herself for bed. Unlaced her new boots - with a leaden heart at the memory of who provided them for her. She slipped off her dress and stockings and when Julia brings her tea she helps unlace her stays. Asks her about her engagement.

Iris gives short, staccato words for answers. Feigning it had been a long day. The maid slips away again and Iris locks the door in her wake. Only then does she reach for her hand and wrench off the gold ring. Puts it on her vanity and the gold winks cruelly at her in the firelight.

She huffs as she undressed and slipped her nightgown on. She let loose her wild hair and tames it into a plait. Ties the end with a snippet of blue muslin. The gown slips off one shoulder as she grabs her book and balances it on her thighs. Slipping into the cool crisp sheets of her bed. The lace trimmed on her sleeves casts floral shade down her arms.

The fire cracks and she parts her book with the pressed flower she was currently using as a bookmark. She tilts into the candles light and tries to let the novel soothe her dreadful mind. It’s of little use. The words swim like black wriggling worms. She quickly abandons the idea. Tucks the book away.

Falls down into her feathered pillow. Drinks her tea and glares pointedly at the glimmering ring on her dressing table. She’s so used to feeling suffocated. But this sensation of guilt, panic and refusal churns in her belly like the worst sort of shame. Seeps out her pores like claggy grey mud. And she is made miserable by it-

A brittle tap suddenly echoes in her room. She sits up. Covers rustling about her knees. She strains her ears to make it out. Through the roaring fire and the gales brushing the stone of the house outside.

There it is. Another succession of taps. Hollow scrape. Clanking on the glass of her window. Tap-tap-tap-

She gets out of bed and pulls her heavy curtains across. The window was latched shut. And outside, being buffeted by the strong wind. Sits an obsidian black crow.

Feathers all ruffled in the wintry breeze. It’s little head twitches at her. Beady eyes shining off the glow of her room like amber marbles. And off the grey sheen of its broad beak. It sits there contented. Staring up at her.

She unlocks her window and pushes it up. The wood sticks and rubs from age. Cruel night air whips in. Flurrying at her thin dress. The cold snakes and twines around up her knees and legs. The crow makes a loud cawing sound. A rasping cry of a call.

It seems tame enough. She gently reaches a hand over and it sits there as she brushes at the downy feathers on its puffed out chest. Black silk to the touch.

“You’re rather congenial” She comments.

“Matter of fact you’re the first genial encounter I’ve had all day.” She remarks. Chiding herself for talking so animatedly to a bird - of all mad things.

It caws again and hops along her stone windowsill. She gasps, drawing back as it then suddenly ducks it head and swoops under the window frame. Breaching the gap and flying up over her shoulder, and into her bedroom.

She keeps from crying out in shock. Spins around to try and capture the crazed animal and return it to its rightful home outdoors. The curtains sway with her movement and she screams anew when suddenly a gigantic body is in front of her.

Before she can fully scream. Kylo’s warm eyes soothe her and one big cool hand clasps over her mouth to muffle the scream. It’s suddenly a warbled sound out from behind his massive palm that almost entirely spans her face.

He grins wickedly down at her. One thick finger pressed to his smiling lips telling her to hush. Night air and cold infused into his clothes, simply pours off him. Cologne and rich earth and frost.

She relaxes a little. Heart racing at the incident.

He’d crowded her back to the wall beside the window alcove. He reaches across and shuts it with his free arm. To help keep her warm. It doesn’t even stick at the sides when his strong arm yanks it down.

“Thank god for that. Dove. I thought you’d never let me in.” He explains smugly. She has so many questions about his varied animal forms. But she won’t ask them now. She’s just overwhelmed that he’s here.

He brushes off his lapels after taking his hand from her face. Pressing it to the wall beside her instead. She’s all too aware she’s clad only in a thin nightgown. And suddenly now there is a large Lord before her. Mere inches between them. Scant inches and she only has thin cotton swathing her body.

A million questions thunder and strike in her brain.

She settles on; “What are you doing here?” Whispers with a tender little smile starting to grow on her lips.

She’s aghast but ultimately pleased beyond measure to see him. She felt like she has strength again now he’s here.

His thumb strokes at her cheek. “Checking on the woman I love.. if I may.” He answers plainly.

Her heart melts into mush in her chest. Slips out and down between the cracks of her ribs like treacle. She aches for him.

He notices how her face pinched up. “Iris?” He asks.

“I am to be married.” She whispers. Thoroughly ashamed. Waiting to see his repulsed reaction. Biting her bottom lip nervously. Looking down to her feet.

He tips her chin up to look at him. Frowns at seeing the tears of shame in her eyes.

He smiles tenderly. “Dove. I know.” He explains. As he cups her cheek.

“I always knew this was going to happen. After all - courting can only end two ways. And your mother was most serious about securing a match.”

“I said yes. I hate myself for it. But I said I’d accept.” She cries. He soothes away her tears with his thumb.

Hushes her. Pulls her into his chest and holds her close.

His big hand strokes her hair and she lets herself sob into his wide firm chest. Fingers grazing his clothes. Her brow wedged into the crook of his cool neck. He tucks her into him. One hand cups her head and the other spans the back of her hips. She never had anyone to confide in. But she has him now. She’ll always have him.

She has little choice in the matter. Whether she wanted him or not. She’s got him.

“All will be well. I promise you.” He assures.

She sighs. It’s so pleasing to finally have someone on her side.

“I’ve had to sit there and listen to his mother spouting out about grandchildren and marital duty when I wanted to do was run from the room screaming.” She gasps. More tears soaking into his clothing. Eyes crinkled up shut in sadness.

She knows were he any other man, she’d have to school her words more carefully. But to him she can speak freely about anything. Her soul was stitched to his.

“Pay their vapid ignorance no mind.” He kisses a whisper into her hair. Groaning at the feel of the silk and scent of it against his lips. “You’re worth so much more to me, than all their expected limitations of you.” He speaks softly.

“I can’t do it.” She admits. She crumbles. Finally she can speak what she truly feels. Let out what was making guilt rot at her like acid all night through.

Because really those four innocent tiny-little words had been perched on the tip of her tongue all evening. She just hasn’t the bravery to let them loose.

“My little dove.” He sighs fondly as kisses her head. Pained for her from feeling her heartbreak. “You won’t have too.”

She feels him breathe where she’s cuddled into him. It’s a strange comfort. It’s the height of impropriety but she cannot care about it anymore.

She pulls back and looks up at him. Tears leak down her cheeks. He takes them away again. “Pray, whatever do you mean?” She seeks.

“Come here.” He says. Breaking away for a moment. He guides her to sit on her bed and crouches to level in front of her. Both hands taking hers. He kisses both sets of her knuckles before he begins. Looking up at her. His wrists rest on her knees.

“You think I would allow you to marry that spoilt snobbish boy?” He asks her with a careful grin. His eyes look darkly salacious.

“You think I could let another man take you, when you are mine, and mine alone?” He smiles wickedly. Seductive notes intoxicating in his deep voice.

She could kiss him to death right now if it wasn’t entirely inappropriate. She wants to hold him tight so much- she could burst. Wrap her arms around this kind man and never leave him. She can never be parted from him now.

She sighs happily through her tears. Reaching across and stroking her right hand through his thick shaggy hair. Black locks cool against her palm from his excursion out in the wild black night air. His eyes look like tempests. Black flecked with gold that rings his pupils.

Such sincerity shines out his face- it’s like a hopeful glimpse of the sun after a harsh winter. He’s saying such nice things and such nice warm words of love flow through her veins like ambrosia.

He takes her hand and kisses her palm. Sighing at the taste and scent of her skin. It had never failed to drive him wild with need.

“Run away with me. And marry me.” He offers. Eyes slicing hot into her own. Watching the flickering firelight kiss her skin.

Her mouth gapes. She draws in a breath but her head is spinning so madly she feels dizzy. He explains more to her of this sordid plan.

“Half my household is shut up. Most of my staff have packed and gone already. Left these shores bound for Bavaria. I set sail in seven days time.” He explains.

The thought of him leaving sends such a spear of white hot pain through her heart she doesn’t think she could ever survive it if he left. Madness when she’s had all these years of life without him.

She doesn’t feel the same anymore. She isn’t. She’s in love and it has changed her irrevocably. He’s burst into her life, in a big assuming dark shadowing presence and stolen her heart away. And given him hers in return.

She knows she can never be without him - it feels like it would kill her for them to be apart.

“We could elope. Make for Gretna green and be man and wife by the weeks end. We can set sail for the port of Hamburg as Lord and Lady. Until passage is booked, we could honeymoon in the highlands for a handful of days.” His eyes turn particularly lustful at that comment.

Smile is savage and sharp. So potent a smouldering look it makes her toes curl up in longing.

She could do it. She could run away with this man, sneaking off into the dead of night. To go to seize her greatest happiness. For once she could selfishly and recklessly take control of her own life.

Loving Kylo as she does, he makes her feel just brave and strong enough to do it-

She wets her lips. Giddy. This is her chance and dear god in heaven- she’s taking it.

“What would I have to do?” She asks him in a hushed whisper.

The smile that takes over his face is magnetic. She smiles and he rises up quick and fiercely kisses her.

Claims her with that passion he spoke so finely of. Cups her neck and delivers her a kiss that has her shaking. She tries to resist the heady temptation, but she cannot.

Her knees clamp either side of his thighs where his body is towering over hers. Nearly pressing her back to her pillows. His free hand cups her lower back and clasps her into his body. Her splayed legs, and between them, rubs high at his abdomen.

He growls deep and feral into the kiss. It tumbled through her wet hot mouth She pulls away. Wide eyed and innocent, wondering if she’d hurt him. She can only see his kiss bruised smile and his clouded eyes when she pulls back. Her hands press to the bed. Clutches into the sheets. Otherwise she worries she’d tangle and lose her hands in his hair.

He sighed in bliss. Ducking his head to kiss at her clothed shoulder. Nearly shuddering with need. Arching right over her. Big body completely dominating hers. He shuts his eyes and kisses the lace at her shoulder. Taste of her lips and scent of her blood and her arousal sitting on his tongue like sugar. He so wanted to taste more-

He restrains himself or he’d take her right here - drool onto that heavenly cunt between her legs and slide his cock into her perfect heat. Fuck her for the whole damned house to hear her screeching his name.

“Forgive me.” He rasps. Voice husking with desire.

Her cheeks flush. “Nothing about that warrants forgiveness.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew how I wanted to take you right here and now in your bed. Iris.” He husks. Kissing in the crook of her neck slowly and soft. Lips pressing and savouring her. Her every nerve hums with need.

He recovers his legendary discipline. Pulls back to sit at the edge of her mattress once more.

“All you’d need to do-“ He smiles. Hands settling on her knees. Holding her. Feeling the cotton and her kneecaps under his palms.

“Is dress warm, pack a manageable bag. You don’t need much. I’ll buy you everything and anything you need. Meet me in the woods just beyond the church. At midnight.” He smiles. He’d had this cunning plan circling in his head for weeks now. Now he is within grasping distance of having her as his wife. And he’s wild with love of her.

“Don’t tell anyone of this plan. Not even your sisters. Nobody. In case they try and halt the elopement...Not that anyone could stop me....” He smirks.

She smiles. “I won’t tell a soul. I’ve no one to tell.” She shrugs openly.

“Leave that foul mother of yours nothing but a note behind. That’s all she deserves for her wicked exploitation of you.” He growls.

She nods in agreement. Stroking over his big hands where they rest on her.

She doesn’t spare the energy to devote one scrap of a thought for her mother. He was right

She only wishes there was a route out of this that could mean she can say a proper goodbye to her father and her sisters. Not leave under a shroud of intrigue, gossip and scandal. Iris eloping with the dashing dark lord newly arrived to these shores would be rife in the gossip mills around here for weeks. It would quake the quiet county.

It seemed odd that it would be her. She’d be the source of ruinous ignominy. All her life she was the quiet and unassuming and plain eldest daughter. No one suspected anything of her except her obedience to blindly accept the loveless match her family provided for her. She wasn’t supposed to do anything out of the ordinary little route of her safe life.

A small scandalous corner of her heart was awfully happy to be proving all those busy bodies and old matronly gossips wrong.

“I’ll leave word for Hux too. He’s not a bad man. Just-“ she shakes her head. Watching their hands where they are joined. “He’s not the man I love or desire.” She explains.

Kylo’s eyes look warm. Like melting pools of honey and tar. They stick to her. The beauty of her blush. The prettiness of her countenance. Those ash grey eyes doused ochre in the dim firelight. A splash of honey amber whiskey poured over moonstone.

He reaches up and strokes his thumb across her cheek. “He overlooked you. Trust me. He will pay sorely for mistreating you. His honour will become quite besmirched when you elope. Stolen and tempted away by a foreign Lord with a title and an estate, to boot.” He smiles.

“Then see what he makes of his measly beloved little army commission. When he loses you.” He smirks.

“I can’t think he’ll care much about my leaving - only for the toll such infamy will have on bruising his ego.” She tells.

“Then he is the fool I always suspected him to be.” Kylo tells her seriously.

“Now. You just have to act like the most perfect doting bride-to-be for the next three days. Because come weeks end...” he trails off.

Pulling her in, sighing a soft sweet kiss onto her lips. She blushes when he kisses her. Whole body pimples in pleasure.

It’s molasses and dangerous and among all the darkly wicked things she’s never tasted. He tasted like freedom and life.

“... You will come back to Bavaria with me. And you will be my wife. Lady Ren of Ranlor Castle.” He smirks against her lips. Plucking passion into her.

He savours kissing her for a moment. Losing himself in the manna that was her lips. She’s ivory rose petals and sugar whipped with cream. Gorgeous and delicious and he can’t wait for more. Before he can kiss her lips pink and raw, he takes his leave.

“Get some sleep. Little Dove. I’ll send word when all is set.” He smirks before he’s out into that wild night again. Leaving her heart racing and her hope restored.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

#kylo ren #Kylo ren x oc #vampire!kylo #vampire au #vampirelovestory #adam driver #very wolves and doves #Iris vibes 🕊#Draegan vibes 🥀#Lord Ren vibes 🐺#vampire #demon #ao3 fanfic #proposal #suitors #lovers #hiddenlove

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