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star-killer-md · 4 years ago

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Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that.

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for.

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets.

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.”

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff.

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair.

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.”

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.”

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing.

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.”

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same.

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob.

Definitely not.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things.

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed.

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway.

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you.

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early.

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily.

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges.

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font.

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied.

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence.

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient.

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms.

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.”

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway.

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before.

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall.

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him.

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in.

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey.

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook.

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side.

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—”

“She’ll be busy.”

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.”

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth.

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience.

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened.

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious.

And left you seething nonetheless.

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was.

The quiet before the storm and all that.

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.”

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted.

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape.

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.”

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers.

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle.

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket.

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time.

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped.

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies.

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren.

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh.

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—”

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.”

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers

biting into your jaw.

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them.

“Answer.”

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control.

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear.

“Swallow.”

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice.

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement.

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin.

But it was very clear to you what he really meant.

Remember who you belong to.

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet.

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.”

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him.

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there.

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock.

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either.

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure.

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.”

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside.

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you.

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.”

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching—Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire.

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length.

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours.

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock.

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him.

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt.

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth.

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him.

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure.

Oh you were so royally fucked.

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you.

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore.

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.”

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length.

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it.

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was.

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose.

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door.

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence.

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.”

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day.

Maybe that didn’t matter either.

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren smut #mob!kylo ren #lawyer!reader #dr. b writes #requests #adcu fanfic

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dalekofchaos · 4 years ago

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How Disney/Lucasfilm failed Finn and John Boyega

A rant about my continued frustration on how Lucasfilm/Disney failed Finn and John Boyega

John Boyega’s Finn was setup as the male lead and co-protagonist of the sequel trilogy. That’s not an opinion, that’s not a headcanon, that’s a literally fact. He was set up to be equal with Rey & Kylo’s foil and we all know why that changed.

John Boyega was cast as the male and co-protagonist of the sequel trilogy by JJ Abrams, who had to fight for John Boyega to be cast against the preferred (White) casting choices.

Originally Finn(Sam in the original treatment) was white

Majority from Okiro’s twitter thread exposing Lucasfilm’s hypocrisy when it comes to representation and black history

JJ Abrams told Finn he was the new star of Star Wars

In The Force Awakens. Finn was a Stormtrooper who defected. After witnessing the death of his friend Slip and seeing the innocents being killed, Finn made the decision to save Poe Dameron and leave The First Order. Finn only wanted to leave The FIrst Order and run away. But after meeting Poe and later Rey, Finn began to care for more than himself. Finn was mentored by Han Solo. For once, he had a father figure and a positive role model as opposed to people like Hux and Phasma. He learned to care for Rey and even love her. After Starkiller Base destroyed the Hosnian System, Finn realized running was pointless and knew he had to fight. Then Kylo Ren took Rey. Finn went to The Resistance using his time on Starkiller Base to shut down the shield generator and plant the explosives on the thermal oscillator. Finn’s main focus was rescuing Rey. After Kylo force pushes Rey into a tree, Finn faces Kylo Ren. Finn learns to overcome his fears of The First Order and faces the symbolic evil that was Kylo Ren. Although Finn does not win, he puts up a good fight and was put in a coma for daring to defy Kylo. Then they bait and switched us with Rey. I’ll let you read my rant on that.

Finn was the co-protagonist of The Force Awakens, this is evident of Finn’s actions saving everyone. Finn is the very reason why the Resistance is even alive. Finn breaks his life-long brainwashing, informs Rey and Han about the importance of BB-8 and helps out in getting BB-8 to the resistance and provides vital information that lead to the destruction of STB and gets nearly killed while helping to achieve this. If it were not for Finn saving Poe, BB-8 would’ve been scrapped for parts and Rey never would’ve left Jakku. The map would either be destroyed or be in the hands of The First Order. Starkiller Base would’ve destroyed D’Qar and Ach-To. He is the reason why Poe is still alive. He is the reason why BB-8 isn’t parts and Rey left Jakku. Because of leaving Jakku, this is the sole reason why Han and Chewie were able to find the Falcon. And he is the reason why The Resistance was able to find out about Starkiller Base’s weakness. he Helps out in sabotaging STB so that Poe, the very pilot he saved in the beginning can deliver the finishing blow to Starkiller Base and destroy it completely.

There are some missed opportunity in TFA, believe me I know as I feel JJ squandered the theme of Stormtroopers rising up against their oppressors and that crack about Finn being a janitor was so tone deaf and unnecessary.

Don’t believe me that Finn was meant to be the co-protagonist of the Sequels? Look at the marketing?

Also. Just look at the hopeful optimism and representation FInn brought to black people.

Then the racist boycotting happened. The boycott was groups of bigots who wanted the ST to be boycotted. What was the response from Lucasfilm? Zero defense of John Boyega, but their actions were transparent when they shrunk Finn on the TFA poster for fucking China’s sake, kept him off the TLJ teaser poster, and small on the official poster

I’ll let what Rian Johnson chose to do with Finn speak for itself. John Boyega has every right to hate what Rian did with his character.

By giving into the boycott and doing their best to erase and sideline John Boyega, Lucasfilm proved they would always cater to mob law if the mob was big enough. Do I have proof of this boycott against John Boyega? Yes, I do.

Also, popular Reylo blogger Jenny Nicholson’s racism against John Boyega

Reminder that Jenny Nicholson blocked a whole fuckton of Black people who even gently criticized her about how she went after John Boyega

Did Lucasfilm after The Force Awakens try to support their Black lead in any way? No. In fact, they began to erase him harder than ever to the point Fans started a hashtag #WhereIsFinn because it was getting so bad. But Bryan Young, a Lucasfilm writer, sure loved to hate on Finn

Lucasfilm was so racist, the very concept of a Black man and a white woman getting together sent them into such a frenzy Lucasfilm had to have it removed from any EU material just to make sure they kept it nice and bigot friendly. Also it’s worth noting that Alan Dean Foster was ordered by Lucasfilm/Disney to scrap any hints of Finnrey romance from the TFA novel as he believed that was the direction of the Sequels’ romance and coincidentally they did next to nothing with and we know it was racially motivated. "I expected to see that developed further in Episode VIII [The Last Jedi]," Foster said. "And zero happened with it. And we all know why zero happened with it — and there's no need to go into it in-depth — but that's, sadly, just the way things are."

It wasn’t JJ Abrams, Lawrence Kasdan or Chris Terrio who were against Finnrey. It was Disney and Lucasfilm and RIan Johnson was more than happy to separate Rey and Finn 99% of the movie(he said and did enough things to prove that he didn’t want the two characters even near each other)

Then John spoke about his frustration with how he was treated

People have tried to twist the narrative or put words in Boyega's mouths, but his GQ interview paints the picture rather clearly. He was sidelined due to his race after The Force Awakens when The Last Jedi came around with a "reordered character hierarchy" Lucasfilm's order btw

It resulted in Rey and Kylo Ren being featured prominently in both TLJ and TROS. It also resulted in Reylo being canon. Lucasfilm killed the Sequel trilogy, cause they couldn’t bare the thought of a black man in the leading role and a interracial relationship.

If you look at TFA, you’ll realize that Finn was built up to becoming a Jedi, Kylo’s foil and Rey’s equal. Because TLJ happened, Finn’s role was reduced to a side character and JJ could not make him as prominent as he originally wanted to. EIther studio interference or TLJ screwed everything up so bad that he had to work on it slowly and just hope that Disney + would have something for Finn.

At the start of the trilogy, we all thought people of color would have a prominent role in the new trilogy, there was a potential for the first interracial relationship in Star Wars and there was a potential for the first LGBT relationship in Star Wars. But no, it’s clear that both TLJ and TROS gave us the impression that only white people can be Jedi and only white people can have epic romances and save the galaxy, people of color can only have secondary roles. And the blink and you miss it kiss? Only white women, not two men of color who clearly love each other.

Finn’s best scenes were deleted.

Finn and the villager. it really shows why Finn chose to leave. Finn’s reasoning for leaving the First Order had nothing to do with being against violence, but a moral confliction of not wanting to hurt defenseless people. This villager wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t trying to hurt him. She was just a woman with her baby. This wasn’t war, this was murder, and Finn refused to be a murderer.

TLJ alternate opening. Opens with Finn waking up. Small change, but it would show that Finn is still a prominent character.

BB-8 shows Finn Rey’s last moment with him. BB-8 tries to cheer Finn up, but to no avail until he shows him a recording of Rey from the end of The Force Awakens - the scene she says goodbye to an unconscious Finn and kisses him on the forehead before leaving to find Luke Skywalker.

Poe gives back his sewn up jacket to Finn. In this deleted scene, Poe fills in the gaps and tries to assuage Finn about his concerns, including Finn's mixed feelings about his relationship with the Resistance. Poe then gives back the jacket that was once his and became Finn's in The Force Awakens, showing Finn that he sewed it up. This scene doesn't necessarily push forward any plot development, but should've remained as great a moment between Finn and Poe. The two characters established a wonderful chemistry and bond in The Force Awakens, and with Finn off on Canto Bight for much of The Last Jedi, fans didn't get to see as much of their relationship as expected. It's nice to see that chemistry and bond again. Finn's question about winning is also interesting in highlighting the constant uphill battle of the Resistance. Even destroying the Starkiller Base, Rey defeating Kylo Ren, and blowing up a Dreadnought can still put the Resistance in the position of fleeing.

The elevator scene between Finn and an old Stormtrooper friend. A Stormtrooper voiced by Tom Hardy recognizes Finn and starts talking to him. Finn starts to draw his gun, thinking the Stormtrooper has recognized him as a traitor, but it turns out the Stormtrooper is just surprised to see that FN-2187 has become an officer. The scene may go on for a bit too long, but ultimately it should've stayed in. The scene in the elevator does a great job playing with the audience's emotions, as they're unsure whether the tension will rise to the breaking point of a fight or evolve into a humorous moment. It also shows Finn using restraint by not killing a fellow Stormtrooper, unlike the other two movies.

Phasma’s alternate and BETTER death scene. WHY WAS THIS CUT????? No seriously, WHY WAS THIS FUCKING CUT????? I will never understand why this was deleted. Finn calls her out about her betrayal of lowering the shields and when this information is revealed, the Stormtroopers near her look suspicious and it looks as if they are going to turn on her. Phasma like the ultimate survivalist she is kills them with no hesitation. Finn cuts her hand off and blasts her into the abyss, giving Phasma a more deserving and better send off. Seriously, this is way better than their actual confrontation. What I really like about this scene is its direct connection to The Force Awakens plot point and that it acknowledges Phasma's survivalist attitude which was introduced into her novel. The Phasma novel and comic portrayed her not as a First Order loyalist, but as a ruthless warrior who did whatever it took to survive. She even went so far as hunting down and doing away with those within the First Order who had knowledge of what she did at the Starkiller Base lest the truth get out. Phasma was always about self-preservation, she wasn't about preserving the First Order, but that never comes across in The Force Awakens or The Last Jedi. It only comes across in this deleted scene where Phasma chooses to end her own Stormtroopers to save herself.

Something else that bothers me. Finn’s treatment in the expanded universe. Have you ever noticed that Poe and Kylo got all the big expanded universe material and Finn is always shoved into the background or not there at all? Even worse, every form of media portrays Finn as Poe's bumbling sidekick, which is even more apparent in TROS. They were more interested in having Poe and Finn being the Abbott and Costello of the ST instead of letting Finn going from Stormtrooper to Jedi and lead a Stormtrooper Rebellion.

In the journey to TROS, Finn is not featured in ANY of the novels or graphic novels for the Journey to TROS. When he was, he was used as Poe’s sidekick and not featured anywhere with Rey. Before the release of the movie, he is not featured whatsoever in any shape or form in marketing. We get to see him in two teasers but he says nothing. His new outfit looks awesome. Finn could’ve been used to rise as a Jedi with Rey and essentially be the Skywalkers that Rise and face Kylo and Palpatine together. If not that, Finn could’ve caused a Stormtrooper Rebellion that burns The First Order from the inside out. Instead of any of that, it Finn was given nothing for this movie. He doesn’t even get to face Kylo Ren, their rivalry as foils was completely dropped. That is sad and heartbreaking.

Seriously, there is no novelizations or comics that expand on Finn’s time in The First Order. Sure, there is Before The Awakening. But consider this. Finn was their best Stormtrooper, so good that Hux considered him Captain material.

There is so much potential with Finn in the Expanded Universe. Apply all the posts I’ve linked and more.

The Poe Dameron comics were not about Poe’s life, they were about his personality, skills, character, and the Resistance. So I ask, why can’t/couldn’t the same have been done with Finn pre TFA? A comic series exploring his character while world building the First Order.

There is so much to tell. You could start with Finn vividly remembering his family and how he was abducted and recruited for the FN Corps.

You could even show the ruthlessness of The First Order by showing initiation for the FN Corps is only granted by forcing the children to kill each other in a Hunger Games/Battle Royale to see who the strongest and who deserves to be welcomed to the First Order. This would be in separate groups of the children who are abducted to determine who gets to be put in the FN Corps. We could see Phasma returning to the room, only to see a young Finn covered in blood and dried up tears. Phasma will only say “Welcome to The First Order, FN-2187.”

Wouldn’t it be interesting to see how Finn, a brainwashed soldier broke free of his mental conditioning, learned the truth of the FO yet still tried to be a good soldier. It could flesh out his relationship with the squad he led, as well as Phasma and Hux.

It could’ve also showcased the brotherhood and friendship Finn had with FN-2199 (“Nines”), FN-2000 (“Zeroes”), and FN-2003 (“Slip”).

The biggest thing it could do is finally show Finn’s skills as a soldier, his brains, while giving so much needed world building First Order. We could also finally show what it’s like as a FO stormtrooper from a sympathetic POV.

Through the avenue of a Finn comic series you could also flesh out Hux, Phasma, Nines, Zeroes, Slip, and even characters like Kylo and Snoke. It doesn’t have to cover spoilers, just make the one note more dimensional while giving Finn so overdue respectful content

It could end with everyone asking Finn “what was the moment you decided to leave” which then we would see the TFA deleted scene of Finn in the village

It could end on Finn saying "I was raised to do one thing, I used to think I’ve got nothing to fight for, but now I have something worth fighting for.“

And afterwards. You could show Finn and Jannah working together to liberating the other Stormtroopers. The first person they rescue? Zeroes, FInn’s last surviving Squad Member and together they awaken and liberate their brothers and sisters and all the while Finn rises up and becomes a Jedi!

For those wondering what about Finn in TROS? I’ll let this video do all the talking

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I’d also like to point out. Finnrey WAS going to happen in TROS. Here’s confirmation by Jedipaxis, the main reddit leaker, who was right about everything before the films release, confirmed that Finn’s “i never told you” line was supposed to have some payoff and it was going to end with finn and rey holding hands. could this pic have been of the alternate ending? then reshoots happened and we got the Reylo kiss

I’m convinced that John Boyega was told by the higher ups to say Finn was meant to say he was “Force Sensitive” no one who is about to die would “always want to tell you” they were force sensitive.

Hell, even in the original Episode IX by Colin Trevorrow. Duel Of Fates. Finn was given the shaft again. For some unknown reason, Rey is paired with Poe, a character who barely interacts with Rey at all. Finn was given another sidequest to do. The only brightside for Finn is he participates in retaking Corruscant and a Stormtrooper Rebellion near the end.

Finn, who was once held in prominence as the co-protagonist alongside Rey. Was erased from how prominent he once was and reduced to a sidecharacter due to China and fanbacklash that there was going to be a black lead in Star Wars. Disney caved in to the racist backlash and caved into China’s racist demands.

Finn deserved to be a main character alongside Rey, while Kylo Ren is their villain. He deserved a good character development, a great arc, an interesting backstory. he had the potential to become one of the most epic star wars characters. TLJ and TROS was an insult for him and he deserved better. nobody will EVER change my mind.

Finn should’ve been a Stormtrooper turned Jedi who embraced the light, while Kylo Ren who was the Skywalker who rejected the light and embraced the dark. Rey should’ve been Luke’s daughter, while Finn is the Jedi who builds himself up from being a Stormtrooper from nowhere to Jedi and together Rey and Finn stop Kylo Ren and bring down The First Order and rebuild The Jedi!

Finn should have been a Stormtrooper turned Jedi. It doesn’t matter that you think it tells a better story for him to not be a Jedi. “Finn being a hero who is not a Jedi is important.” Poe and Rose are great examples of ordinary heroes coming from nowhere. Rey was supposed to be a jedi related to Skywalker or Kenobi legacy while Finn was the perfect “nobody from nowhere” that becomes a Jedi. And honestly, Black kids deserved to see themselves in the Black Jedi and black kids deserved to see themselves as one of the three protagonists of the trilogy.

Finn got no last name No theme Was sidelined in the trilogy Had his scenes cut Mocked by Lucasfilm employees Racially harassed by bigots and media outlets Disney used while staying silent and then Disney has the nerve to say they “stand” with John Boyega during the BLM movement and celebrated Finn during black history month despite squandering him....

Finn deserved better, period!

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#Star Wars #Finn #Finnrey #John Boyega #Anti Lucasfilm #Anti Rian Johnson #Anti Sequel Trilogy

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maybe-your-left · 3 years ago

Note

Moonlight, haunted house, cemetery, cauldron 😬😬😬

Moonlight: Choose 5 favorite works created in the past year (fics, art, edits) that you want to promote.

I'm assuming that these are supposed to be made by me right? either way; in the past year I started writing and posting fanfics that have been semi-popular (not really in the grand scheme)

1: HIPAA Violation, I'm so proud of this shit-and I'm not kidding that I thought about it while driving home from my day job and suddenly we have Dr. Ren who is everyone's favorite. I'm very protective of him-i feel like he's the only thing I've written that people like.

2: Kiss the Sky by @finn-ray-nal-beads it's not my fic but it's my sisters and she puts her heart and soul in everything and its the only Flip story I like.

3: Can You Keep a Secret by @historyandfandoms50 for Mob Kylo which deserves all the praise it gets and more.

4: My darkfic collection is really popular on AO3 but it doesn't hit the same on Tumblr which is a shame... i really love the darkfic but I understand why some people don't

5: Young Love, this fic was another shocked fan favorite, I really didn't think people would like how mean(?) I made HS Kylo but it still gets hits and I'm proud of myself for it!

BONUS #6! I am really excited about my upcoming Ben Solo fic called Codependency its Parole Officer Benji (it will be semi-real, not a lot of fluffy moments but a redemption arch in itself)

Haunted House: Anything you have wanted to write but have been too scared to try?

I wouldn't say 'scared' is the right word, but I have lots of fic ideas in my head all the time but I guess they wouldn't fit with the 'brand' of funny/smut people associate with me. I really really wish I could delete Case In Need to re-write it because I hate how I ended it-it was rushed and I know everyone hated it...

Something I've been considering actually writing is a dark fic with Kylo Ren and reader that is... kinda terrible? like not Window Panes terrible-but it's like around the premise that reader and Kylo have kids (had them like young-young), Kylo works in 'finance' and the two absolutely hate each other but can't be apart. just pure toxic energy. it would just be an excuse to write hatefucking mixed with Kylo being rude to the reader but 'no one else can have her'

Cemetery: Do you prefer prompts or challenges, or completely independent ideas?

Both? I love getting messages from mutuals, but then the pressure sets in where I feel like I have to write what's requested. sometimes they are really nice and other times feel like I'm not good enough to receive that attention.

there are times where I just want that idea shared, or someone to tell me a daydream they have so I can put it out there for them to enjoy and that makes me really happy.

I have a lot of anxiety about my content being stolen, and some of my writing is very (unique?) 'on brand' for me and then I see it again like a week later and it makes me want to just stop all together.

Cauldron: Fave Genres?

To read? Horror, Dark-Fic, Psychological thrillers, anything that makes my chest hurt.

To watch? I really love watching Marriage Story, it makes me cry so much, and it's beautiful. Same with BoJack Horseman, or even something completely stupid like The Clone Wars or Bad Batch makes me emotional.

#about me #the writer #i tried to be honest

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adamdriverwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Carpe Noctem || Part 4

Plot summary: Mob boss’s daughter & bodyguard au ft. Kylo Ren. Based off this plot bunny (x)

Warnings: none today, kids

Word count: 5329 (prepare yourself)

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader

A/N: Here is part 4 finally! NZ is in quarantine, so i’ve been trying to write and gif a lot more! expect another update soon! let me know what you guys think!

Taglist: @helloimindelaware, @dandydragonz, musicalcoffeebean, @driverficarchive, hazydespair, @mp938368, @maybell88, @bikinibrattoms, @fanfic-fangirl, @stillreadingfantasy, @um-well, @OnevergrowoldnevergrowoldO, @jay-ta-blog, @wildwood-trails, @stephhaniee14, @flowerniche, @sanfranciscroc, @little-miss-mischief1, @pami-yui, @lex-bb13, @deepblueswift13, @allknowingnerd, @shawnme-boy, @whymalu, @simonsbluee, @jons-angel, @whymalu, @mixtapes-books, @amazing1rl, @ambrosia-v-black, @souriemickey, @toads4days, @xsar-bearx, @lunarlung, @bubble-t-r-o-u-b-l-e, @cutiepiepotatoes, @bangtan-savage

Masterlist here

Just family.

If you weren't so opposed to the idea of making a scene, then you would have confronted your father about why he was such a deceiver.

It was clearly not strictly family. After you had gone to your room to change, you met your siblings down in the formal dining room, where they had been drinking and waiting for you to arrive. You all moved to the dining room. Roman, Ares and Lyon sitting on either side, your father taking his legendary seat at the head of the table. However, with Kylo sitting next to your Dad, the only space available was opposite, also next to your father.

Phasma was also seated at the table, thankfully separating Ares and yourself, which you did not mind one bit. In fact, a part of you was almost excited to catch up with Gwen after all this time.

As you stared at your food in front you, silence permeated the room. Save for the lone conversation between your siblings, few words exchanged, otherwise it was a tense, quiet affair. The dining room was huge, with a table fit for easily 20 people and with the 7 of you spread around one half of it, you still had a sizeable space between each other.

You gathered it was your fathers disposition that put everyone on edge. Sitting at the head of the table, nursing a glass of amber liquid. His food completely untouched as he watched everyone. The only one who seemed completely unperturbed by it was Kylo, eating the rack of lamb with a citrus and blue cheese salad without a care in the world it seemed. He was his usual stoic form, though unperturbed by the lack of conversation or apparent awkwardness that lingered, he ate dinner and kept to himself.

Your mind wandered to what Hux had told you about him earlier. About how he was your fathers sword and shield, apparently unflinching in his ability to spill blood. You had been gone for a number of years, and before you left for good you were still rather young - however you were perceptive. Due to your perceptiveness however, you knew he hadn't been around for a long time, not since you were a kid. So where the fuck did he come from?

"Is it always like this?" As conversation ensued at the other end of the table, you leaned over to Gwen to whisper quietly.

She chewed through a piece of meat, swallowing before answering, "We don't usually have dinner like this. Ever, really."

You nodded, not really receiving an answer to your question - you wanted to know if everything was usually this tense. Or if the day of Mallory's funeral was such a reason. "Good to know that we won't have to be subjected to this too often then."

"Don't worry," Phasma smiled down at you, "This isn't awkward because of you."

Your eyes drifted down the table, Roman and Ares laughing about something quietly to themselves - Lyon's eyes however - were locked on you. A hard stare as he pushed his food around his plate, haphazardly shoving some into his mouth before looking over at your Dad.

"Sure." you offered, though not completely convinced of her assurance; however kind of a gesture it was intended to be. You knew it was because of Mallory's funeral, that was the predominant proverbial wound, though your presence was pouring salt into said wound.

It made it so much worse, this you were sure.

Roman's voice quietened your internal monologue, speaking your name to gather your attention. You looked over to see him looking at you. "I'm going to Starkiller later on. You wanna come with?"

Starkiller was one of the only legitimate businesses your family had. One that wasn't used to launder money like the Supremacy, it was purely for profit. Though as you grew up you guessed it was your father's way of keeping your brother out of trouble. He had something to do, something to look after, and it was away from the dangerous dealings that could prove fatal. It was a club on the outskirt of your father's turf, under Roman's management though you didn't think he did much 'work' while there.

"What time were you thinking?" You spoke quietly, as not to disturb other conversation happening at the table and not to alert anyone eavesdropping. Your eyes flickered over to your new bodyguard, eating quietly, not even looking at you.

Roman shrugged, "After dinner sometime."

You nodded, "I'm a little jet lagged still. I might have a nap and come later?" You didn't want to go particularly, and you were definitely not jet lagged. To the contrary, you felt quite awake, you just had other ideas and perhaps it could prove a useful alibi.

"Sounds good." He smiled, then went back to eating food off his plate.

"How's school?" It was now your father's voice that pulled your attention. He looked at you while he asked, still not having touched his food. Only nursing a glass and looking over his family.

"It's going okay, thanks."

Phasma piped in next to you. "What do you study exactly? I don't think I've ever actually asked."

"I have a double major; law and psychology." You nodded, it sounded like a brag though you didn't intend for it to be. Although other members of your family looked down on education, others did not.

"Wow, interesting choice. Impressive." Phasma shot you a little smirk.

"You going to be ready to be my lawyer soon?" Roman joked from down the table.

"Or mine." Your father spoke up.

You gave them a half smile in return. Unable to tell the truth- that you had no intention of being a lawyer, it was just something you were studying because you wanted to possess the knowledge of the judicial law system and all the rules in place. You didn't particularly have intentions of breaking the law but if you did... then it would prove extremely fruitful. Psychology was another interest, you found it imperative to understanding your enemies - not that you had many of those either. Yet.

But you were the daughter of Andrew Snoke, and being made to feel so powerless in your youth gave you a complex as you grew up. You needed to acquire knowledge like no one had in your family before, and maybe then you would feel worthy. Powerful.

Dinner passed by quickly. As soon as everyone had finished, your father offered to move it to the office in the west wing of the manor for more drinks. You were going to decline, playing the excuse of jet lag almost immediately, however, you decided to acquiesce and have one drink. For Mallory.

Lyon and Ares started racking up the polished balls on the pool table, setting up for a game. Roman talked lightly with your father, pouring drinks from a crystal decanter for everyone who wanted one. Kylo was back to a dark corner of the room; finding a seat to watch over everyone and smoke a cigarette. He didn't fraternize with the others, or try to relax with a friendly game of pool. Always stoic and always working evidently.

You followed Gwen, finding a seat near the tall open windows facing the backyard. Curtains parted slightly, cool breeze blowing in faintly. Too dark to see out but the fresh air helped ease your mind, if only for a moment.

"Here." Gwen offered you a cigarette from her pack and you kindly accepted. A horrible habit, you knew, but to you it was a small price to pay for stress relief. A hit of nicotine helped your thoughts calm down, and deprived any ill feelings purchase in the forefront of your mind. You could have a few moments not totally at the behest of your anxiety or depression.

"Thank you." You accepted, along with the flame she held up so you could light it. Inhaling deeply, you gave yourself a second to appreciate the reprieve before you exhaled. And then braved to ask Gwen a question. "So come on, be honest with me."

Her pale eyes met yours, and quirked a brow. "I almost always am."

A short laugh escaped your lips. "Thanks for the honesty." Your eyes drifted around everyone, to see if anyone was paying particular attention. "But I mean... how serious is my Dad about all this bodyguard shit?"

"I'd say pretty serious. He assigned me to Roman after all."

This made you sit forward. "Really?" That was particularly serious. "I thought it was a sexist thing, that he didn't think I could take care of myself but, huh..." You sat back in the chair, thrown for a loop. You didn't think it was really that serious. Sure, there were aspects of Mallory's death suspicious but he was on high alert. Enough to warrant some of his most ruthless and trusted men - and women - to become glorified sitters for his children.

"You've all been assigned someone."

"Why didn't I get you? Why did I get him?" Your eyes shot over her shoulder, the furthermost corner of the sprawling room. Kylo sat with your father, drinking. His dark eyes trained on you; already watching.

Always fucking watching. You pulled your eyes away immediately, though you were positive he would not have been able to hear a word from the distance, or over your siblings shouts and taunts. His eyes were on you regardless and it made you uneasy.

Any hint of a smile covering Phasma's lips instantly dropped. The furrow in her brow set in again. "Well... you're you." She took a drag of her cigarette. "And as much as I hate to admit this, he's the best. Snoke is just being cautious."

"The best at what exactly?" You took a drag of your own cigarette, ashing in the crystal ashtray on the coffee table between you. Something flared in Gwen's eyes, what, you were not sure. Worry? Anger? Jealousy? Or was it fear? You had no idea.

"You're smart. I think you already know." She looked like she didn't want to talk about the subject anymore. You weren't sure if it was your father's presence, or Kylo's that deterred her from spouting any more honest truths.

Your mind went to Hux, and the words he had so freely spoken before dinner had you wondering. Calling Ren your father's right hand man, the problem solver.... a rabid animal. You knew your family was bad. By conventional terms with a modern sense of morality, they were evil.

Criminals, murderers, extortioners, torturers, tax-evading, wealth-hording, gun-shipping, drug-running psychopaths to be exact.

And as bad as you all were, everyone in the Snoke manor was scared of only one person; your father. He was a much older man now, and though he still held a significant amount of power over everyone in the house - it appeared he now had passed the torch on. All physical bouts and messy jobs were now Kylo's to execute, and it seemed he did them perfectly.

You had never seen or heard of him before. You wondered how new he was exactly, and how quick he had risen in the ranks to become your fathers most trusted man. He would have had to prove himself immensely, and the concept of what that possibly entailed both scared and intrigued you. You wondered what types of violence your father found to be grounds for proof of trust.

You made a mental note to ask Armitage how long he had been around, along with a few others things flying around your brain. Weirdly, they were all questions about Kylo Ren.

You decided to cool your thoughts, and continue small talk with Gwen. You asked about your brother, and what her new schedule was like since it hadn't appeared he had changed much. She confirmed that she spent most of her nights at Starkiller, watching your brother party with his friends.

You shared a few jokes at the expense of your family, especially when Lyon lost a game of pool and almost snapped the pool cue over his knee in anger. A glare from your father and his anger simmered down almost immediately. You finished your cigarette, though enjoying talking with Gwen you were thoroughly over this fucking situation. A drunk sausage fest with your family in which none of them even wanted to talk to you, to spend time with you. Your father could hardly stand the sight of you.

You gave him the benefit of the doubt - he had buried his daughter today, and looking at the face of your other estranged one was certainly not a priority he had to have. You expected nothing on arrival, and had already had a few days of drama free bliss. Really, your sisters death had the opposite reaction on your Dad than you thought it would.

You supposed you would enjoy it while you could. You thought it was going to be utter chaos here, loud arguments between you and your father, leading to a crescendo in which you would be forced to leave once more.

You decided to bid Gwen goodnight, finishing your drink in two big gulps you braved the walk to your father. Zig zagging around your brothers and the Snoke enforcers, you found your way to your Dad and Kylo. His eyes were focused on the drink in his hand, amber liquid swirling in a glass slowly. Kylo noticed you before he did.

"Dad?" You pulled him out of his reverie and he looked up. "I think I'm going to head to bed, I’m not use to New York time yet."

"Oh." He nodded, "Okay. Sleep well, kid."

You gave the faintest smile, eyes shooting to Kylo who stared you up and down. A curious look behind his eyes - like he knew you were lying. Though your father seemed completely fooled. You left immediately, trying to ignore the awkward goodbye with your father, you snuck out the doors and headed to your bedroom.

Checking your phone, it was only about 10 p.m. You figured jetlag would set in eventually, but after today’s days events you felt wide awake. You didn't want to go to sleep yet. Maybe you couldn't.

You shed out of your funeral clothes, getting changed into something far more comfortable. A white cropped t-shirt, dark jeans, and your trusted leather jacket. Slipping on some fresh socks and swapping you shoes for your black doc martins. You checked your appearance in the mirror before sighing. You looked good considering everything you had been through today.

Usually you looked like shit.

Grabbing keys, money, phone and smokes you locked your bedroom door, turned off the light and left out the window. It may have been almost ten years since you had done this, but it was a tried and true trick for sneaking out when you had more than 10 people staying at your house at any given time. Especially when some of those people's job were specifically to make sure people didn't get in or out without the family's knowledge. There was no way in hell you were going to make it out the front door without anyone finding out.

Or worse, Kylo.

You were hellbent on deterring his body-guarding for as long as you could; hopeful it would serve as eventual proof to your father that you did not need to be looked after. You didn't even want to think about how uncomfortable he made you feel.

Not in a bad way, you weren't scared of him like everyone seemed to be. But being in such close proximity was jarring in a certain way, despite his stoic, murderous presence, you couldn't stop staring at his face. At that scar, at those deep, brown eyes.

And at those lips.

He was hot, in an unconventional way, and you almost never found men sexy. For this reason alone you wanted to stay as far away as possible. You didn't even want to broach the reason of whatever the fuck had you thinking about Kylo Ren's lips.

There was a large trellis that covered almost the whole wall underneath your window. Covered by thick ivy vines that sprawled up most of the 3 story Snoke manor, you used this to sneak in and out of your room up until you were sent off to boarding school. And even when you came back for a Christmas once. It was a trick you had learned from watching Mallory sneak out when you were younger.

You poked your head out first, making sure you couldn't see anyone on a perimeter watch, another thing your father's lackeys did sometimes. Seeing the coast was clear, you positioned your feet and then moved out, leaving your window open for entry later. Making sure your footing was placed carefully and with a strong grip, you made your way down the side of the house. Your bedroom was on the second floor, though your house was notorious for high ceilings and you were pretty high up off the ground. Adrenaline kicked in and cooler heads prevailed as you made the climb down to the ground. Once your feet touched the grass underneath your window, you breathed a sigh of relief.

The garage was big enough to house all the vehicles of the multiple people who lived at your house. The entrance was under the south wing of the house, which was an easy, quick walk from your room. You made it there in a minute or two, careful to stay away from windows in case you were seen by anyone randomly gazing out. Opening the last garage door, the one that housed your precious car, you hopped in and started it up. Leaving the lights off, you shifted gears and made it out onto the driveway. Careful that anyone looking out a window or wandering around the property wouldn't be alerted by bright car lights. You were trying very hard not to be seen and you were hoping your hard work was going to pay off.

You had spent years perfecting this technique of Mallory’s.

You drove down the long, winding driveway guided by moonlight alone, until you reached the end. You flicked your lights on and took the exit onto the road. You exhaled a deep breath, one you didn't know you were holding. Paranoia relieved a little bit as you made your way down the street, your eyes still glanced at the rear view mirror looking for car lights that might follow.

You were half worried that Kylo would be trailing you, someone seeing you slinking around the property in the dark and sneaking out would definitely pique interest. You didn't want a bodyguard, especially one who's presence made you uneasy. In which way in particular, you weren't sure. But you wanted to be alone right now.

You had been alone for years and years on end before this moment - what had changed now that you needed a bodyguard? Mallory's death? Most likely. Being back in the country could've proved you to be an easier target too, you guessed.

However, you had been gone for so many years, and being the black sheep of the family did provide one comfort - no one outside the family really knew who you were. You were a taboo subject, rarely talked about and never seen. You weren't involved in the family business like your brother's were, and didn't go to classy fundraisers and socialite parties like Mallory did.

Not to mention you took Brazilian jiu jitsu for years when you were a kid - and you remembered some shit. You weren't lying when you tried to convince your father that you would be fine on your own.

It didn't take long to enter the city, and then find the towering skyscraper that was the Finalizer. It was a tall, dark building with gothic architecture encompassing the facade, contrasted beautifully with its elaborate but minimalist, neutral toned interior. A 5 star safe haven for the rich, famous and criminally inclined. Your father had made sure whatever secrets were experienced within, never had a chance of escape.

You pulled your vehicle into the valet area, shifting into park you hardly had enough time to grab your stuff before a young man opened your door for you.

“Welcome to the Finalizer, ma'am.”

You gave a half smile in thanks, walking forward to the grandiose gold double doors that served as the entrance. Another young man opened them with a smile, welcoming you to the hotel.

Gold light from over hanging chandeliers illuminated the room. Bright mosaic patterns intertwined with white marble made up the floor. An expansive room with nothing but elevators behind a desk with two more people behind it. You were glad you remembered the pass code, unwanting to make conversation with people you didn't know. Not today.

You made a beeline straight for the elevator, stepping into the mirrored room, throwing a smile at the girl behind the desk as you passed. The numbers for all the floors were illuminated by a dim light, the top 3 floors reserved penthouses for permanent residences given out by your father. The very top floor was for family, a sort of unusual halfway house. For when his children couldn’t stand being near him but lacked the funds to move into their own abode. It was Roman's home once upon a time, then it was empty save for the odd weekend or two when your brothers were too drunk to leave the city, and then eventually Mallory’s home. You didn't know what your father was going to do with it now. If your sisters body hadn't been found in it then you would have been tempted to move in.

Although, depending on how bad it got at home - maybe you could be easily convinced.

A small keypad was situated next to the floor buttons, and you entered the pass code for your sisters floor, something that wasn't required of irregular hotel stayers who had simple key cards for their rooms.

The elevator rode all the way to the top, and you were lucky to be alone. The surge of the lift paired with the g-force, you felt your heartbeat rapidly fasten. You tried to peg its inception down to the anxiety that now clouded your mind. You were about to enter your sister's apartment after all.

The last place she was when she was alive.

You remembered your father telling you the place had been cleaned after the forensic evidence had been collected. You hadn't been here in so long that you hardly remembered it. You were shipped off to boarding school long before you were old enough to spend drunken weekends here.

The doors to the elevator opened right up into the apartment. Separating with a 'ding' it revealed the almost pitch black penthouse. A little stream of light from the lift exposed a golden beam down the otherwise dark hallway. You turned the torch on your phone to it's brightest setting, walking out into the penthouse. The doors shut behind you as you found the light switch, and the penthouse was suddenly bathed in light.

Tall, white walls of the hallway gave way to an open planned penthouse. Floor to ceiling glass revealed the neon New York skyline below. The spacious living room gave way to a kitchen on the far left and bedrooms on the far right. A garden laden outside area showed numerous seating with a table, a hot tub, and an infinity pool that disappeared off the edge.

It was clad in dark fabrics and white paint. A shiny, new, modern penthouse that was starkly different than the Snoke manor. It was sparse with furniture, minimalist in its decor; simple but effectively pretty. Mallory had kept the place nice and tidy, artwork and pictures littered the penthouse walls, giving it a burst of colour that was proof of her bubbly personality living here.

You shed your jacket, throwing it over the back of the couch, your items discarded along with it. Your eyes darted around the apartment, eager to find something out of place, unusual enough that you would notice. Though, your lack of experience with the space provided some trouble.

Mallory had taught you a lot growing up - how to escape down a trellis on the side of the house to avoid being detected was one of them. One of the others was having a good hiding spot.

Andrew Snoke was a controlling father growing up, especially with his daughters. And even more so with his favorite, Mallory. You didn't blame her for turning to drugs in her turbulent youth, not with the pressure she was under. Your brothers had done all that and worse and they hadn't been crucified for it.

And because of all of that, Mallory had taught you that hallowed out books, sun-glass cases in underwear drawers, and envelopes behind hung pictures were all great hiding spots.

You made your way to the bedrooms, finding the master that Mallory called hers. Everything was clean, put away, though a glance at the walk-in closet and the mass of designer dresses it was easy to deduce her presence. There was a large bed in the middle, side tables either side. Various artwork hung on the walls and the long, wooden shelf in the room was littered with pictures of her and her friends.

You noticed a few of them by face, probably knew all of them by name the amount she talked about them - though you couldn't tell who was who. Mallory's smiling face was what caught your eyes and cause you to still. Shining, bright eyes and a wide smile that you were familiar with. One that you would never see again. Your throat tightened at the thought.

You darted over to the side tables with purpose, to forget the overwhelming sadness creeping into your mind and replace it with something productive instead. You rifled through its contents, opening drawers and quickly sifting through objects. Pushing things to the side you safely checked for a false bottom of each shelf, but found nothing in particular. Moisturizers, sleep masks, and a pack of cigarettes - though nothing special.

You continued your rampage through her room, looking behind artwork hung on the walls, looking under the bed, under the pillows, in between the mattress and the bed frame, then moving to the closet. You checked in her boots, making sure nothing was concealed in there, before becoming desperate and looking in her shoe boxes and the pockets of her coats. Heaving a sigh of contempt, and resigning to the notion that there was nothing in this room you decided to move on.

You made your way to the kitchen - checking cereal boxes, and the freezer, large tins that she kept nestled in the pantry. You checked anything and everything you thought could be a possibility, but nothing seemed suspicious. Nothing was awkwardly placed, nothing moved every so often that dirt patterns formed; everything was normal.

You ventured over to the living room. You checked behind the artwork first, and behind one you find a safe built into the wall. Your interest was piqued momentarily before realizing these were in all your fathers properties - and housed usually large amounts of cash, jewels, important legal documents and the like. You were looking for something in particula, and figured it would not be inside a safe your father had access to.

You knew Mallory kept a journal, she had as a teenager, and once she grew up and tried to stay sober she had one documenting her thoughts. Something her sponsor told her might be able to help with her sobriety. You hoped if anything her diary would hold some impertinent information. Anything.

However, you were not inclined to think a diary she wrote in everyday was kept in a safe in the living room. Too many processes for something so ridiculous as a journal. You figured she was still like she was growing up - in that she preferred to hide things from the prying men in our family - but she wouldn't go to those lengths. Not if our father had the code to said safe.

You would ask him about it later, but resigned to not give up. It had to be somewhere. You were confident it was not in the safe.

A large flat screen was set against the wall, a wide fireplace underneath. Built into the wall either side were some bookcases, not housing anything but photos, some CDs, and ornaments that Mallory had collected over the years that obviously meant something to her. And a card from you, from her last birthday. Nothing pretty or pink, or particularly special but simply declaring your love for your sister.

You placed it back on the shelf, eyes moving over to a trophy from Mallory's high school days, a cheer-leading trophy, sitting next to it a picture of her winning prom queen, next to her tiara that she blatantly kept. You smiled, if only at the ridiculous nature and stark reality of how different you two were. Things she cared about weren't even on your radar - you two didn't have anything in common. Lived on different continents in fact, and still the two of you got together and it was some of the only moments you felt you were truly happy. You would drink, or maybe smoke a little pot together and would end up in stitches of laughter, faces and sides burning in pain. You were definitely going to miss her humor.

A smile curved your lips and you glanced over, eyes catching a gold trophy that caused you to still. You had seen it before, you remembered it briefly, and as your eyes shot down to the engraved tag, it read your name.

Your hands gripped the trophy, a gold metal showing a girl doing a roundhouse kick in a martial arts stance. "Holy shit." The words flew from your mouth without thought.

Mallory had kept it.

~~~~

You and competed in over 6 different competitions, fought in over 22 different matches, becoming the champion for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu in the tri-state area for girls under 18. And you were only 13 years old at the time.

Years and years of rigorous training had led to this point, years of your youth spent on grueling grappling techniques and perfecting your punches. To this referee now announcing your name, a round of applause from all the parents in the stands stung your ears. He shook your hand, handing you the trophy. A flash from a camera blinded you momentarily, and you searched for familiar faces in the crowd.

Your eyes locked with Mallory's. She was standing up, clapping as hard as she could, a proud smile on her face. You looked at the seat next to her - reserved for your father.

It was empty.

Your heart dropped. You mustered a smile, praying for it to be over so you could go back to the changing rooms and release the tears that pooled in the corner of your eyes.

You locked your gaze with Mallory once more, and noticing the look on your face, and you glancing at the empty seat next to her, her mouth uttered an apology, providing a sincere look.

You bit your lip, squeezing the trophy as hard as you could in your hands until it was over. Once you were clapped off the stage with the girl who came 2nd and 3rd place, you ran to the changing rooms to find a lonely corner you could get out of your fighting robes.

You prayed for the tears to go away, to any God who was out there that could show one ounce of mercy to you. But no one answered. You were alone, and once one tear fell it was hard to stop the rest. Your father couldn't even come to your championship fight? He never devoted any time to you ever, and you were doing this because it made him vaguely proud in some way. Even still, he couldn't give you one second of his fucking time?

He had given you nothing, and you had done this all for him.

You sniffled, throwing your bag over your shoulder and haphazardly slipping your shoes on, you exited the changing room to meet Mallory outside the stadium.

"Oh my god! Congratulations!" She swept you up in a hug, perfume wafting through your nostrils, your face was buried in her blonde hair. "First place? Hell yes!"

You scoffed. "Yeah..."

She dampened at the sight of you, facade falling slightly. "Oh, come on, kid. Let's go get some ice cream, my shout."

"I don't know," you hitched the bag up your shoulder, "I don't really feel like ice cream."

She sighed, stepping forward to grab your hand that clutch the trophy. "I'm so sorry he didn't come, okay, but-"

"Did he say why?"

"Well, he just said he was busy and he had to-"

"He's always too busy." You interrupted her again. "He doesn't give a shit about me. I haven't seen him in weeks, and he's the one that put me into this martial arts bullshit!"

Mallory's weakening facade was demolished, and she burst into tears. "I'm so sorry."

You sighed deeply, though it had been evident you had been crying you chastised her regardless. "Why are you crying?"

"Because," she wiped her tears away, shifting her large handbag further up her shoulder, "Because I'm sorry. I'm sorry for Dad, for how he is and how he treats you." You weren't sure how but it seemed like she got even more upset. "And I'm sorry that I was fortunate enough to be nourished by her growing up and you were too young to experience-"

"Whatever." You cut her off again, before she could finish, she was crying with sympathy, empathy, whatever the fuck it was that caused her tears. If she finished her sentence you knew you would be reduced to the same fate. "Can you please take me home? I'm done."

You glanced over to the side, a stadium bin free standing. You walked over, taking one last look at the trophy before you threw it into the trash can. You glanced at Mallory, and then walked to the car park where she had her vehicle.You didn’t look back.

~~~

The two of you had made your way home, driving in silence. You remembered that day vividly now. Mallory was 8 years older than you were, so she had her license, and her own car. A whole life of her own. She was in college, eager to drink and socialize with her friends.

And then something changed.

You had never been close when you were younger, but after that day she had made a gratuitous effort of being in your life. Of supporting you emotionally and providing wisdom and comfort when you needed it. Of being a constant in your life, even when you left for boarding school. She was the only lifeline you had in this family. She had taken the role of father, and mother, and adopted those qualities to try give you a better life.

And she had kept it.

You clutched the trophy in your hands, even tighter. She must have picked it out of the trash, put it in her handbag and then followed you to the car.

And she kept it all this time. Never telling you about it, never trying to offer it back to you. She kept it as a proud memento on a shelf in her living room for herself. Your throat tightened, your lip trembling as you felt tears gather in your eyes. You couldn't hold it back, irrevocable sadness you had been keeping at a simmer turned into full on misery. You wept for times passed, over memories you shared with Mallory and the reality that you would never create any more. You cried over the possibility of the suspicious circumstances that surrounded her death, that someone could have taken her away from you before her time.

And you cried because you were alone, once again.

#carpe noctem #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanficiton #kylo ren au #kylo ren imagine #adam driver x reader

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punkandsnacks · 4 years ago

Text

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Fifteen; Anticipation.

Author: @punk-in-docs & @adamsnackdriver

Also on AO3-

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: No warnings in this chap- animal shapeshifting but thas about it really-

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.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

The very next days seemed to crawl by. As if time itself was dragging through claggy thick treacle.

Nothing moved quickly and Iris knows it’s because she’s anticipating the weeks-end more than any other event she’s ever awaited on in her life.

More than Yuletide morning. More than her birthday. More than buying a new book or taking an early morning walk all to herself. More than a sunny frosted morning where everything seems to glimmer as if crafted from gold, or seeing wildflowers dot the woods with their colour in spring.

She’s waiting on that much anticipated midnight with baited breath. Every second closer to it is both torture and sweet blessed relief.

She fulfils her remaining days with a permanent smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Even her acetous mother remarks upon it. She tells her daughter the fine manner of her engagement must be bringing her joy. Iris bites her lip to keep from grinning.

She clutched her romantic secret all that tighter to her chest. Moulded it like warm clay to clasp around her glad heart.

Mother and Maratella insist on setting a date. And getting her whole ‘bouquet’ of daughters measured for their gowns.

Posy and Flora for they are of course to be bridesmaids, and Iris, of course, for her bridal gown. They get up a merry party to Pembleton one fine clear morning.

The snow and frost govern the landscape once more. Ebbing back in after the recent rain. The brown frost-hardened hills and trees and fields. Governed under the fierce cyclops of a mustard sun blazing in the effortless blue of the cobalt sky. It made Iris think of robins eggs, and the golden buttery buds of spring. When the bulbs and shoots blossom up through the earth with their sickly scent and colour.

It is a fine clear day and it indicates that the end of the long bitter winter approaches. The cold is as ferocious as ever so Maratella insists upon them not catching a chill in the vile icy winds. Shes most kind as to stop to collect the Misses Ashton’s in the Hux’s second largest coach. They are all bid to the dressmakers in the high street. Along the medieval shamble of barrel window and oak timber shops.

The news of her engagement spread far and wide. Before her boots have even touched the cobbles, stepping out the coach, their party is virtually mobbed by matrons and ladies of their acquaintance.

Iris had in mind a silly image of them prowling at the pavements like baying wolves, chasing after the muddy churn of the carriage wheels; anything for to first seize that newest scrap of gossip.

Posy and Flora ladle up all the attention. As does Mama. Proudly boasting - along with Maratella - of the suitability of such a fine match. Iris wants to roll her eyes as Flora greatly exaggerated the romantic manner of Hux’s proposition. She gabbled about a room full of red roses and how Iris wept tears of delight as he swept her into his arms.

The ravenous eyes turn toward her. “May we see the ring, Miss Ashton?” Comes out of numerous smiling mouths like a chorus of cawing seagulls. Iris feels like they’ll rip her glove off themselves if she doesn’t.

Unused to such attention, she blushes as she slips off her grey calfskin glove. Wrenching it off her hand. There is a troupe of awed gasps as they admire the diamond set in the gold band.

Iris feels as if she’s sticking her hand into a dangerous animals maw. Like some exhibit at a zoo. Feeding her hand to the rabid starving tiger’s. There’s so much gasping and in taking of breath it’s a wonder they don’t suck her up. And take half the street with them.

Luckily, Maratella fusses that they’ll be late if they don’t make haste. She then proudly utters that the ladies five, their happy little bridal party, are off to Madame Larousse’s dressmaking parlour for a wedding gown. And Mrs Ashton and Mrs Hux are to see to both having new hats to mark such a happy occasion.

The flock of ravenous ladies ceases. Satisfied with their mauling of Iris and her news and her engagement ring. The party is able to proceed along the pavement unhindered.

They slip into Madame Larousse’s. Greeted by the lanky, heavily perfumed proprietor herself. She was a tall, ungainly woman with poky shoulders and an always over-rouged complexion. And will always, without fail, exaggerate a mildly French accent to gild her words. For she believes that all the best dressmakers and seamstresses were French.

The tall stretch of Madame claps excitedly and demands to see Iris’ hand when she hears they are here to purchase ribbons and lace and all things fit for a bride. She is whisked away by a very efficient assistant. And stood on a pedestal for the next hour and half.

Iris spends that time with swatches pinned to her. Flapped around her ears. Tucked under her collar. There’s so many back and forth decisions from her mother, it makes her quite dizzy. A tape drawn tight around her so many times to squeeze the stuffing out her. Eventually, they stumble to a conclusion. It was to be a saffron orange.

Flora remarked it made her rather look like a carrot.

Around her they lounge on the chaises provided, clutched around the mirror and the box she’s on, and they drink sweet tea. Brown sugar sprinkled and stirred into the earl grey.

They all pose interjections and opinions and preferences on her. Iris just stands there like a tailors doll. Only half there.

She’s caught sight of a swatch of ruby-wine velvet near her thigh and is stroking it fondly. Remembering Lord Rens exquisite bed coverlet. How it felt under her fingers, it took her ricocheting back to that moment. And it calmed her.

That’s how she can stand all this grousing and prodding. It reminds her of her secret and she nearly faints off that box pedestal.

They settle on a pallid frothy blue silk instead. To better bring out the excellence of her mud and twigs hair. Mama chooses the best silk madame has in stock. Says she will have to fetch more in from her supplier especially. From London.

That causes much excitement for Flora and Posy. They’d never had a dress made from material fetched as far nor from a city as grand as London, before.

Posy had selected a teasing slip of pink silk. Flora, for her more fiery hair, chose a delicate pastel pea green. Iris thinks they’ll look like a platter of French fancy cakes.

Then a pang of something hits through her heart with all the intensity of an arrowhead studding there - she hopes Mama lets Posy and Flora keep their new gowns after she’s gone. She hopes very much. They are the stillest girls in existence but they do deserve nicer things than what they get.

By Madame’s husky drawl of a smoky voice is she brought back into the room, the awful pink pink pink room. Stuffed with velvet chaises and bolster cushions and trimmed fringed oil lamps. Great big fat rosebuds sprout up the wallpaper and flourish across the fabric of the pillows on the settee.

It’s as if the whole room is the summoning of the evil fairy in sleeping beauty. Who commanded swarms of brambles and thorns and swamping plants to take over. That was this room to the last pink thread - only it was instead summoned to contain every incarnation of pink roses as far as the eye could see.

Her ears burn hot and pink as Madame talks of London. Relating the gossip back to someone in the village. Matter of fact, a certain Lord-

“Apparantly, you know he sent that tall turbaned butler of his up to London just yesterday...” Madame hushes to them in her hazy terribly-affected French.

“Sent him to Mayfair.” She grins crookedly as she measures from Iris’s hip to her hem. Barking orders at Suzy, her ever suffering assistant.

Maratella seems most diverted. “Pray whatever for?” She leans forwards. Perching her half eaten violet macaroon on her saucer.

“He sent him to Bond Street. You know there is an establishment there that supplies jewels to the palace. Apparantly he came back having purchased something.” Madame says.

“Pray why would be send his butler all that way?” Flora asks.

“Why, Miss Smith told me so this morning; she suspects Lord Ren has left his heart behind in Bavaria. He is soon to quit Hellford. She heard Clarence Pennington’s butler say that his housekeeper, Mrs Jones states that half his house is shut. And the staff vacated.” Maratella excites them all. Flora and Posy are mortified at such news.

“The house is emptying. And Lord Ren shall soon be gone.” She adds.

Mrs Ashton smiles gladly. “He is journeying back home to his castle I wager...” She delights. The spitting smug nature of her tone was clear. Good riddance.

“Who must he be besotted with I wonder?” Posy asks indelicately.

Iris tries not to be twice as smug. Thinking that she is that very woman.

He goes back to his castle and I will gladly go with him, she thinks.

The giddiness and joy roils in her stomach like golden champagne. Fizzes through her veins and she has to hide a smile. Biting her cheek hard.

“Well. if he is shortly to leave our shores. I’m willing to bet he’ll break a fair few maidens hearts in this county and the next over. Such a striking gentleman. The young ladies will certainly feel his loss most keenly.” Maratella comments in sadness for all the female admirers he’d amassed. They’d all be heart sore now he’s going away.

“You’re blushing Iris.” Flora sing-songs at her. Pointing it out. “Thoughts of your intended sweetheart?” She ribs her sister.

“You are a colossal pest. Flora.” Iris smiles at her. Matter of fact. Her little bug of a sister is quite right. She is thinking about the man she’ll marry.

Only another agonising hour whilst Mama and Maratella select their hats for the occasion. But Iris can atleast sit down and drink some much too sweet earl grey tea. Doesn’t have to stand on that wretched box for another hour.

Eventually their purchases were rung up and settled. Flora and Posy love Iris very much because she buys them two new ribbons each and some velvet buttons for their bonnets. They’re singing her praises as they quit the shop. Trilling like a pair of canaries about their gowns. Iris was glad to spend some of her pin money on them before she leaves for good.

She’s fully appraised of the weight of her actions. And the serious consequence of them. It would be ruinous for her mother and father. It would be a disaster for her sisters. But atleast she was of age and she could marry. Whatever else others might say of her - she fully believes Lord Ren’s intentions are honourable.

They can’t scandalise her for marrying Kylo. Just censure her for running away from Hux and jilting him. She’s certain he’ll recover amicably enough. He doesn’t love her. And his mother is suitably well connected. She could snap her fingers and summon another willing bride. She’s only sorry it can’t be her.

She’s despondent to remark upon the pain she’ll be causing hers and Hux’s family. But in time, they will recover. Posy would do well and Flora will follow in her footsteps. Mother will see to it they catch fine husbands when the time is right. Their mother is most skilled in that area.

The party journeys along Pembleton street. Maratella stops by the haberdashers to seek after some ribbons. Mama is in the milliners seeking after a new pair of occasion gloves. Posy and Flora amble slowly along the street with their sister. Watching the carriages and coaches trundle by. Various riders on horseback too.

A loud nickering snort behind her makes her turn. She can hardly hide the smile that quickly grows across her face when she catches sight of a lone rider on a huge stocky black stallion. Both man and his mount are furiously muscled beasts.

His Lordly attire is its usual. All black. Save for his white shirt and red cravat. The great overcoat frames his wide shoulders and his bulky chest. His boots gleam in the meagre sun. His grin tips up when he catches sight of her.

He looks terribly smug and Iris’s heart feels like it’s trying to ram out the cage of her ribs. This handsome lordly man who stole it away, sets it pounding freely and rampant in her chest.

She tries not to arouse the suspicion of her sisters. They were much too curious and meddling for their own good. She wants to protect her secret and she thinks she’s a proficient enough liar to accomplish it.

They burst into fits of giggles on seeing him. He rides Erland closer to where they are stood and dismounts. His strong boots thud into the frosty mud. His wool coat laps and swathes his body. He tethered himself to Erland. Massive gloved hand gripping the reins. The creature didn’t seem to have any care for wandering off. He just wished to see Iris - Kylo empathises with the horse. He rather feels the exact same.

Iris, Posy and Flora all curtsey to him. He bids them all a greeting. She bows her neck and when she looks up. His eyes fondly fix on her. Warm in the sun. The contrast of him is astonishing. Milky creamy complexion, bordered by the onyx shadow of his hair and eyes. Utter opposites in the juxtaposition.

“Miss Ashton. A pleasure to see you again. I trust you are still well recovered. You look very radiant this morning.” He comments. Walking Erland just that tiny step closer.

The obstinate animal his stallion is, reaches his nose out and snorts into her hand. Nudges her glove for pats and scritches of affection behind his ears. She doesn’t care that she’ll get horse hair on her. She strokes him.

“You are most kind. Your lordship. I am very well.” She smiles slightly. The pretty kiss of rose on her cheeks.

“I need not tell you Erland is pleased to make your acquaintance once more.” He remarks starkly. Hint of irony not lost on her. Erland almost nudges her to fall over with his big strong head. She laughs.

“Your ears must’ve been burning. Lord Ren. For we were just discussing you...” Posy flirts. Batting her lashes at the man.

Hands crossed in front of her. Like she was a genteel little doe. Iris glares narrowed silver dagger eyes at her sister to stop displaying herself so readily. As ever, the little vexation pays no attention. Not when there was a hot blooded male around.

Kylo tilts his head. Intrigued. “Is that so, Miss Posy?” He asks.

“We we’re discussing how heart sore all the young ladies hereabouts will be when you quit Hampshire...” Flora tells him.

Kylo takes her confession in his stride. “It’s true. And I am sorry more than I can exclaim to be leaving such carnage and desolation in my wake. But sadly I do return to Bavaria shortly.”

That handsome expression barely betrays a thing. The cold wind flounces and ruffles that wild hair. A tuft of it drifts in his face and tangled in his dark eyeline.

Iris decides in that moment he truly might be an angel sculpted by gods own hand; or a demon designed by the devil himself. She isn’t sure which of those creatures is all the more tempting.

One thing she’s certain of; He’d win that draw of most handsome, every time.

She quivers when those eyes gaze at her. Peels her right out her clothes and down to her goose pimpled skin. Then Posy has to go and open her foolhardy mouth some more...

“We were just helping Iris shop for her bridal gown.” She preens. “And our bridesmaids dresses.” She comments. Speaking as if she wants Kylo to snatch her up and steal her away to Bavaria. Stuff her in his pocket and run off with her.

“I had heard rumour of your engagement...” He lies. Iris is biting the inside of her lip and smiling genially to hide how wide her excitement wishes to make her smile grow.

“Show Lord Ren your engagement ring, Iris!” Flora bounces excitedly. Iris glares. Reminding her of the inappropriate nature of her words.

“Flora. Lord Ren is not interested in such matters. And I’m afraid we’ve already impressed upon too much of his time...” She insists.

Kylo holds out his hand to her. Steps closer so she has to crane her head back just to keep sight of his eyes. “I am certainly interested. And I might add, most eager to see the bauble that decorates such a fine, pretty hand.” He teases.

She decides he was designed by the devil. And lucifer gave him a silver tongue to boot-

Iris slips off her grey glove and gently lays her palm in his.

The way his fingers curl around hers is criminal. She tips her eyes up to his as he shifts closer and admires her ring. A soft smile tugs at his mouth. The gold winks at him in the sun. It’s a pretty delicate morsel. He can’t deny. But plain. Much too plain. Entirely humble as decoration went.

-it’s certainly nothing to the one he’d had Jomar go all the way to London to fetch for her from Bentley & Skinner on Bond Street.

“It is a fine ring. Miss Ashton. Sergeant Hux is the most fortunate man in England to have you as his intended bride. I’m quite envious of his fortuity.” He says. Bowing to lay a kiss on the back of her palm.

His eyes electrify her. He winks at her and she flushes with heat. Blood pressing up in her face.

“I’m sorry to hear of your leaving England. Lord Ren. Such a shame Hellford Park should be quitted before the summer.” She tells him.

Her palm leaving his. Sliding away from the touch of his hand would have made her wretched were it not for the heat in his bronzed eyes. Made a warmer melting shade by the shimmer of the buttery sun. And their shared secret lifts her heart.

“It is a great shame. But I’m eager to return to Ranlor. I’ve missed my homeland a great deal.”

“The rumour in circulation is that you have a certain lady in mind to return home too.” Posy dares most outlandishly. Iris chides her for her brash rudeness.

“Posy!” Iris calls out.

Kylo seems amused by it. “That would he telling. Miss Posy. Not to mention betraying the confidence of the most honourable lady in question.” He smirks at her sister.

Who giggles and blushes like it’s no ones business. His vampiric charms seeping out of his every pore, truly intoxicating to them, Iris can see it’s influence.

“Is she a great beauty? I imagine she is most elegant indeed and very superior and titled in rank and manner. And of great fortune...” Posy digs for more details. Kylo will reveal none.

“Pray. Don’t be impertinent twice-over.” Iris corrects. Posy pulls a vexed face. Shoves her tongue out at her sister.

Kylo’s chuckling. They were entertaining little chits. Relentless. But he admires something about that sparky quality. Iris had the same sense about her - only more sensible and humble.

“She is the singularly, most beautiful creature I’ve ever beheld in all my years.” He promises. “And I cannot wait to have her hand in marriage. She will make me a very blessed and lucky man.” He declares.

“How romantic.” Posy declares in a sigh. Flora dreamily agrees. They’re both veritably Moony eyed. Gazing up at him in wonder as a consequence. A silly girls kryptonite. A handsome and dark romantic man. A Byronic figure to set all the foolish girls swooning at the knees.

Kylo’s eyes sweep across to Iris at a passing glance. He smiles. And it almost undoes her.

“We must be on our way. We’ve availed ourselves of too much of your time. Lord Ren.” Iris says in parting. Trying to herd her vapid sisters away before they flirt anymore.

“We must go. For we are bid to the Hux’s tonight for a celebratory engagement supper.” Posy curtsies boasting as she’s bobbing away.

“Give the Sergeant and his family my warmest regards.” Kylo insists. Knowing what a barb that would be to Hux’s temper.

Iris turns and meets his eyes. Giving him a polite bowed head in parting. When Posy and Flora are otherwise looking elsewhere. She turns back and gives him such a look of longing and delight it makes him grin at her as she walks off down the cobbled pavement.

“Very good to see you again. Your Lordship. Have a pleasant rest of your day.” She insists.

Cajoling her sisters along the path and away before they get any notions. Erland snorts at her as she moved away. She smiles and gladly rubs the flat bone of his nose before she goes. Lord Ren stays standing until she does move away.

Kylo pats his neck, and hauls himself up on his strong stallions back once again. Booted feet in the stirrups. He adjusts on the saddle. Scanning the tumbled windows of the high street proprietors.

In the milliners, he sees a face like sour lemons and thunder glaring out at him. Mrs Ashton’s stony face peering outwards through the glass. Having seen his exchange with all her daughters.

He coaxes Erland into a slow walk. A little nudge in his side. He gives the foul Caroline Ashton his most winning enigmatic smile. And nods civilly in greeting at her as he rides off.

He sees it makes her lips purse in irritation.

Iris can’t resist glancing back at him. She knows those eyes watch her all the way down the street. She can feel them. Two pinpricks of heat, like candles, burning into her shoulder-blades.

It makes her too giddy for words.

They soon catch up with the rest of their party and are whisked away in the Hux carriage. Soaring across the dirty English roads. Mud churning in their wake as cold air and sunshine bounces off the roof.

Mama asks them what Lord Ren. Iris told them he was just politely passing the time of day. She seems satisfied with the answer. Iris fights not to squirm into shivers of desire at the merest intimation and memory of him.

Posy and Flora sing-song his romantic praises all the way home. Mother soon shuts them up with a cross cold stare.

The afternoon seems to fly her by. No sooner than she’s home and she’s readying herself for the dinner they’ll take at the Hux’s residence. Cavenham House.

The not so modest estate in the border of the next county. A gorgeous house if she’s being perfectly honest. Terracotta red bricked exterior, of modern Georgian design. Huge arched white windows. Rococo interior. All gilded with cherubs frolicking on the murky painted ceilings and baroque trim on every door. Rolling scrolls. Frescoes and pastel colours. Gilding, moulding and trompe l’oeils giving the illusion of motion and drama. Raining down from every ceiling.

A handsomely kept garden was also what it was resolutely famous for. Though it would not be pictured to its best quality in this dead winter. Spring will liven it soon. The hardy bright bulbs will crop up through the frost. But for now it remains speckled in snow with only the evergreens surviving.

Iris can see it all as they pull up the long stretch of the torch lit drive. In the coach Maratella was kind enough to send to collect them all.

Once again she was wedged beside Posy and Flora, and their shrill gossiping. Mother and Father opposite. Noiseless and as disagreeing as ever. Silence blazed between them as somber as a churchyard. They were about as animated with each other as two gravestones.

Iris dressed in her navy silk gown with 3/4 sleeves and a sheer white chemisette swirled with stitched white flowers, decorating her shoulders and neck. Meg cleverly weaves that teal ribbon into her hair coiffure again. She finishes the look with pearl droplet earrings and white satin gloves up to her elbows.

They are welcomed inside by stony faced servants in the blue Cavenham livery. Taken into the drawing room to meet their hosts. Maratella had invited some local flavour along also. Everyone’s merry and mingling. Posy offers to play a Handel piece on the Pianoforte before dinner is announced. She does so rather well. Thunks the opening notes in shocking volume but she picks up from that point onwards.

Iris is admiring the scenery from the drawing room window. Even in the dark she can see how lovely the gardens are. It doesn’t dissolve the fact that this house would still be a prison to her. There weren’t bars on the window and she won’t exactly be stitching mailbags - but it will still be her cage.

A handsome cage, she won’t deny. But a cage nonetheless as she mothers the children and lives for planning fine parties to boast of her and her husbands excellence. And slowly becomes a woman of high rank and no substance.

Hux moves to stand by her side, hands folded behind his back. A tall lean column of red, black and white in his ceremonial dress. Medals shining. Hair groomed. Perfectly respectable. Infuriatingly loveless, as always.

“You shall like the gardens in summer. I should think.” He remarks.

“They are most handsome.” She comments. “A fine prospect indeed.” She agrees.

They perfectly form the vision of lovers conversing by candlelight. She can hear Mama and Mrs. Hux cooing proudly behind them. It’s infuriating. Iris can’t spend the rest of her life in a manner such as this; being prodded and manoeuvred and gossiped over like a chess piece on a board.

“I care little for being out of doors. Save for riding with my regiment.” He impresses.

Iris nods. “I am perhaps overfond of walking. I take an excursion each day if I can.” She tells him.

He sniffs. And coldly watches the view before them. “Well. You shall have to make allowances and sacrifices when we are wed. I can’t have you scampering around the countryside when you are with my heir.” He insists.

Iris’s mouth turns dry. She makes little response to his words. He turns away to speak to someone else but she catches his arm to stop him.

“Please I just want to say-“ she starts.

She looks up into his face. The bright copper of his hair and the steel of his eyes. The surety of his rigid auburn brow. She doesn’t dislike him. He’s not an unpleasant man. Just, misguided.

She says what she’s thinking now before she loses the chance. No doubt he’ll think very badly of her when all is done.

“I think well of you. You know. You are a gallant man. Not lacking in honour or credibility. I admire that about you. Hux.” She says. Even if I can’t marry you for it.

He nods. Accepting her words. Then their granite faced butler coughs dryly and announces dinner to the room.

Maratella lets the engaged couple be seated next to each other at dinner. Wanting to encourage the tepid affection brewing between them. Iris doesn’t know what the woman expects from them. They weren’t matched for love but it’s as if that’s what she’s hoping to see blossom.

Maratella is hoping for romance to pass betwixt them.

It could and never will be that. Iris thinks.

Iris remarks inwardly to herself as she sips down her soup a la reine. Served alongside several large golden Bouchée à la reine’s.

The next course is of stewed beef and venison steaks, and a whole champagne poached salmon with slithers of white and black truffles decorating the cooked fish acting as scales.

More seafood came served in the form of fried then boiled sole, heaped in a terrine and a whole platter of pickled crab. A haricott of vegetables and mashed turnips. There was enough food spread on this very grand table, to keep them dining for a fortnight. Mrs Hux organised a feast intended to show off.

She gets everyone to toast to the newlyweds. The gentleman stand to raise their glasses and the ladies stay seated.

The pudding banquet is brought out and quite rightly enough, as she suspected, the whole table is flouncing in ruched fancy french sugar concoctions.

Silken French pies. Syllabubs of lemon and rose and brandy. Ice’s of all flavours. Custard tarts smothered with fat ripe fruit drowning steeped in syrup. Sugar plums and cinnamon and mace laced apple tartlets with baked custard. Iris indulged in some of the tarts and the fruits.

Posy and Flora fall upon creams and dainty fancies like hungry wolves. And eat until they are stuffed.

The ladies retire to the parlour for music and snifters of sweet ruby port wine. Iris indulges in a glass as her sisters and various other young accomplished ladies take to the pianoforte to sing and show off. Posy drags a reluctant Iris up to sing whilst she plays. She grumbles but bends to her sisters will.

She gives a shortly sweet chorus of ‘Let no man steal your thyme’ for it was the only song she could sing comfortably well.

She never much liked performing for amusement. Some girls were a glutton for it. Iris is no such a one. She stands with one hand on the pianoforte and the other folded behind her hip. She sings her choruses and smiles meekly at the small scattering of applause offered for her when she is done.

She heads back to her spot on the settee. Maratella is remarking to her mother how divine it will be to have a songbird in the house once again. Iris sits back in her seat and spends the rest of her evening in silence. Though she wants to say a great deal.

The evening slips past well enough. Night spills past her relatively quick. Another day gone. Another day closer to her happiness. She’s almost too giddy to contain it.

Then the time comes to bid goodnight to their hosts;

Iris watches as Hux fondly kisses her hand. Seeing her off out the rich gilded foyer out into the black black night. Sky so dark it’s a whole void studded with freckling stars. Cold shudders at the shivering trees.

She wants to say something impactful and veiled. To speak of her regard for him. She cannot think how best to do so. She swallows down her thick tongue. Remains a coward.

She can only hope in time, after the wake of her scandal settles. That Hux will find someone better suited than her. Maybe even find someone that he can love? She prays deeply for that little happy happenstance.

She is not so unfeeling as to wish a joyless life on the man who just wasn’t correct for her.

Her teeth grits with all the things unsaid. “I hope you’ll be happy.” She smiles lightly. He thinks her to be referring to the engagement that stands between them.

“I’m sure.” He comments. “Goodnight.” Is his curt response.

It doesn’t incense her. Tonight it vexed her. Caused a tiny crease between her brows. It seemed such fickle words to part on. But she leaves them be-

Let’s those words spirit up into the quiet undisturb of the night. The heavens can have those words. Iris wishes it could have been more. But how appropriate is it that even his parting words are found wanting.

She gets into the coach after curtseying a polite goodbye to Brendol and Maratella. She says something sweet to Iris about her singing. Iris cringes a smile. She won’t be thinking such good things about her shortly. She imagines she’ll curse her name for all of hell and heaven to hear. She’ll wake the sleeping dead cursing the day Iris was born.

Iris thanks her. For her hospitality. For her kindness. Under all her airs and graves, she’s a fairly nice woman and she should find a more amicable daughter-in-law to crow over.

She slots herself into the coach beside her sisters. Listens to the door slam shut. The rattle and crunch of it shifts on the gravel. Rumbled away up the long elegant curve of the drive.

Iris twists to look back. She isn’t sure why she wanted too. But they weren’t a dismal family. And she’s sorry for the pain and offence she’ll cause to them all.

She watches Hux’s stiffly-posed, regimented figure. Shadowed against the night. The scarlet of his blood coat. The ice white of his breeches stained blue, glowing in the night. The stars glimmer off his shining boots and off the pierce of his pale eyes. She wishes him well. She truly does.

They trundle on home. Full of food and as usual with Posy and Flora spouting gossip on and on endlessly. Mother chiming in. Father and Iris retain their silence. Eyes cross firing in a glance when they all agree on something cruel and senseless.

Westwell’s windows emerge gold out the dark. Surrounded by the bustling trees. All of the landscape is merely dark moulded shapes. Looming and shifting in the shadows. The moon casts washy film of silver to try and spill over the cover of smeared clouds.

They are just to the drive when a small dark shape flits overhead. Iris looks upwards, and sees the definable shape of a bird landing on her windowsill. She smiles giddily.

She exits the coach quick. Bidding them goodnight and rushing off up to her room. Her skirts picked up in her hands. Mama remarks how odd it is. Posy shrugs and supposes she’s got a secret missive to read from Hux.

Iris absolutely flies for her door. Twists the handle and launches herself in the room. Shutting the door firmly after herself. Pressing it with both hands flat to the wood.

The warmth of the fire hits her. She doesn’t even pay mind to the tiny crack of her open window. Or her swaying curtains that shift on the breeze.

She can only focus on the huge frame of a dashing vampire stood fireside. One elbow resting on the mantel as he gazes into the flames.

His big frame swallows up the whole room and strangled out all the air. The ochre of the blazing flames captured his skin. Turned that milky-cream of his complexion into pale fire.

She smiles and he does too. “Thank goodness it’s you. I was worried I’d scare seven shades out of your maid.” He drawls softly so his voice doesn’t carry. Smirk curling at the corners.

She crosses the distance. Her feet eat up the floorboards quick. She avails herself of an embrace. Throws herself into his arms.

The cloak of his fire warmed clothing envelopes her as his arms do. He smells like the damp snap of frosty woodland and the acid tang of woodsmoke. The night air of wild outdoors clings to every inch and fibre of his clothes. Swirls about him like a clouding tempest.

He chuckles as she gets herself in his hold. The deep bass of his voice rumbled through her skin and sinking to her bones. Her cheek mashed to his sternum. His arms close around her. Stroking her body through the rasping silk of her dress.

One big warmed hand clasps the back of her neck as the other holds the back of her waist. His nose nudges into the crush of her muddy hair. Her scent teases him just as much as his had, to her. Lavender and sage. The plain spice and calm floral scent.

“I could feel the happiness pouring off you as you alighted the stairs.” He smiles. She steps back and gazed up at him.

“How pretty you look tonight. Dove. You’re exquisite in silk.” He remarks when she steps away. Hand toying with the loose tawny curl at her ear. The sapphire dark of her dress suits her very well. Throws her complexion into brilliance. Does something to make the tones of her hair look rich.

She always looks ravishing to him.

She blushes. “I missed you all day. Isn’t that mad?” She asks.

“If missing is madness, then I’m out of my sane mind whenever you’re not in my sight.” He promises gently.

Big hands cupping her hot silken neck as he leans down to plant a firm, slanting kiss to her lips. His mouth is cold and he tastes of frosty air and wine.

Kissing him is like kissing someone who just stepped inside, taking shelter from a bitter cold wind.

She’s beginning to wonder if there is some clever addiction woven into his lips. One kiss never seems to be enough. She holds his wrists as he grabs her. Makes her feel small in his arms. She’s lost in his hold. It’s powerfully thrilling.

He breaks the kiss and his thumbs stroke at her cheeks. Her eyes glitter keenly at him. He spies the ring on her finger. The one that doesn’t belong there. It makes him smile.

“I’d like to surmise you snuck in here just to steal a kiss. But I suspect a different motive altogether?” She asks.

He broke into a grin that creases his eyes and bares his teeth in a smile. She was no thoughtless woman; his darling Iris.

She’s always thinking. Always fretting. Always mulling over things in her head.

That was one of the first things that that came to his notice about her. She tended to be introspective about all manner of things in comparison to her acetous mother who spewed vile words. And her daft sisters who spouted out their every dangerously silly thought.

He kisses her for that clever remark- slow and paced and soft. Languid like melting warm honey. Lips curling to hers.

“I do have some news. But kissing you will always my first priority.” He husks against her rosy lips. Her warm cheeks blaze from under his icy fingers.

“The date is set. We must leave tomorrow eve.” He tells her with a smirk.

Her stomach completely soars in giddiness. She doesn’t have to hide her grin here.

“It feels as if I’ve been waiting at eternity to hear those blessed words.” She cries in happiness.

“Slip away to me after everyone’s gone to bed.” He instructs. She agrees.

“Mother has been pleased with my conduct of late. She’ll have let her guard down over tonight. I’ll leave once everyone is abed. Even the maids.” She tells him.

Stroking her fingers down the finery of his waistcoat where they’re still stood close to each other. The material was so soft. The softest grain of velvet she’s ever felt.

“You don’t have to bring too much. I can buy you everything you may ever need.” He leers. Cupping her cheek. Feeling the smooth of her skin. Right up her jaw.

His eyes carve flinty paths down her neck as he strokes his fingers there. Her pulse quickens. He can feel and hear her blood slushing hot through her veins.

She shrugs. “I cherish very few possessions. Posy and Flora can have the rest.” She insists. Her hand coming up to stroke over his thick crook of elbow with the hand that’s touching her neck.

He drags the edge of the chemisette down and strokes along the flat of her collarbone. His eyes turn into a palette of bittersweet autumn. Orange and gold swirled with flecks of russet brown.

“Is it difficult?” She asks suddenly.

“Restraining from the need to...” Her face fixed on his. Words trailing away. Air bursting with heat and lust. His eyes snap from her neck to her face. Her cheeks bloom rose petal red. Blood red and hot.

“To feed?” He asks her. She swallows and nods.

His other hand catches the back of her hips reels her right in close. She gasps. Air around them thick and full of snapping sparking static. Her hands press to his cavernous chest.

“I have got several hundred years of restraint up my sleeve.” He crooks a smirk.

His eyes flicker to watch her jugular pulse. The thrum of her little timpani heart makes his mouth wet. He knows she’d taste like salt and sickly Turkish roses and warm bronze coins.

He presses the chemisette aside again and nudges his nose against her pulse point. Right at the epicentre of his life’s greatest desire. He hums a kiss against her neck and she almost faints-

“You shake all those very hard learnt lessons right down to their very foundations.” He promises.

“Iris my love, you are the hardest thing, I’ve ever had to resist.” He tells.

Swooping upwards to kiss at her cheek. Sighing in need against her hot warm skin. If he indulges the temptation of tasting her blood. He doesn’t even want to fathom what the raw animal in him will do to her. Such debauchery he’d surely scandalise her innocence to tipping point.

He will have her on their wedding night and not a second before.

Though the rogue in him does think how goddamn glorious it would be to have her on that bed of hers right now, torn out of that gown. Screeching his name for the whole house to hear. And they can listen to her rapture and whimper, and beg and writhe under the man who really does love her.

Bite her neck as he pumps deep into her slick heat. Gather up every groan as she opens those sweet pink thighs for him and claws at his back. He’d kiss her neck until she yanks her fingers into his hair and tugs. Opens that sweet songbird mouth and calls for him in her bliss, with that ambrosial voice.

He holds the backs of her hips and strokes the silk there with arcing curves of his thumbs. Drawing shapes on that stiff silk.

“I must tell you-“ She starts. “I never was much good at resisting you either. Even after knowing what you are. It shocked me I won’t deny. But it somehow in its twisted way, it made all the sense in the world. It didn’t alter me for my knowledge of it. It didn’t even begin to change the severity my feelings for you.” She tells him. Reaching up and stroking along the handsome plain jaw.

Wholly, un-confinably, remarkably handsome.

“My love-“ He begins warmly. “If I had to, I would throw you over my shoulder to carry you up the aisle to marry me. Even if I had to tear you from your bed and steal you away in the dark of night to be mine. I would have done it. Because this, what we share, it cannot and will never be undone. Can never be ignored.” He promises her.

“Vampires love more deeply than any mortal longing. What I feel for you, it is not fickle. It will never fade. Never wane. We love each other and that will last for as long as we exist on this earth. I thought I had better edify you with these clear facts about my nature, before we are to be bound in matrimony.” He pledges to her. Declaring his undying devotion to her.

Iris rather wants to swoon into his chest - if she had ever been inclined to be a swooning sort of woman. Instead she just beams. A smile so glad it touches the frosty barren place his dead heart inhabited.

“These last few hours will be such a torture.” She comments seriously. But giddy. So giddy it felt like her sides would split open. And molten happy gold would pour out.

His eyes turn promiscuous. As does his domineering smile.

“I can safely offer you nothing but pleasure once the torture is done.” He filthily promises.

She blushes. He wants to lift her up and devour her in a kiss again. Taste those saccharine sweet lips in an animalistic kiss. He savours holding her instead.

Tomorrow he can let the animal roam free over his delicate dove. Tonight is the last night it must be caged.

“Not long to wait now. The last of my household servants left today. I sent Jomar and Jones off to London to make passage to France. Erland and Kana remain to take us to Scotland with one driver, and the coach.” He tells.

She liked that he’s bringing Erland to their elopement. It’s quite fitting when the creature loves her almost as much as he does.

“Then it’s just us. Riding into the wild of the Highland. Roaming over the Scottish moors, and glens and lochs, as a Lord and his Lady.” He paints a vivid picture for her.

She sighs a smile. “Us, has never sounded so splendid.” And she beams brighter than the sun.

He clutches her close for another kiss before he slips away.

The appointed hour loometh. And Iris won’t sleep a wink for thinking of his sharp smile or those savage eyes.

She eventually dreams. And thinks of kissing his soft plush lips once more. Like kissing pink rose petals.

The next time she will, they’ll be well on their way to being man and wife.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

#kylo ren #kylo ren x oc #vampire au #vampire!kylo #vampirelovestory #very wolves and doves #adam driver #Iris vibes 🕊#Draegan vibes 🥀#Lord Ren vibes 🐺#vampire #demon #ao3 fanfic #more swooning #secret lovers

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themangoyogurt · 4 years ago

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Clementine: Chapter 4

It was a stretch, but a few long nights spread over cooling cups of coffee and far too many documents was all it took to square away Hanna Hut. You were now the legal owner of an LLC. To even say the words made you giddy. You were a business owner! It was equal parts terrifying and electrifying to know that your future was now truly in your own hands.

Just like that, you only had a short amount of time to get the doors open. It seemed an impossible feat, but having Kylo by your side gave you an abundance of confidence. He was quick to soothe the side of you that felt self-conscious for taking up so much of the man’s time. All it took was one look, and he’d silently give your shoulder a squeeze. A quiet reminder that it was his own choice to come along for the ride.

With all of the paperwork out of the way, it meant time for the “fun stuff”. Which was how you found yourself in Hell’s Kitchen on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. The summer air was stale and muggy in a typical New York City fashion. Still, that couldn’t damper your excitement as you explored a kitchen supply store with Kylo.

This wasn’t his place of expertise, but he was happy to tag along and watch you bounce from aisle to aisle. He loved getting lost in your world, listening to you gush about the different espresso machines, and how each brand differed.

Although, he did pipe up once in a while to gently remind you of a very strict budget he helped calculate the night before.

“Look at these portafilters. Oh my gosh, they’re gorgeous,” you cried out, fingers greedily reaching out for the shiny stainless steel handles. Kylo laughed and shook his head as he held out the red plastic basket on his arm. You hurried to fill it with a few accessories, eager to try everything out once the shop delivered your new espresso machine.

“How do you know so much about coffee?” Kylo asked. He wandered with you down another aisle, this one filled with gorgeous glassware of all shapes and sizes. You picked up a double walled glass cup and mused, “I used to work in a coffeeshop during college. We only ever used crappy beans since it was a college town, but I still loved everything about the job.”

You set the glass down and picked up another one - a pale pink ceramic mug. “I liked how coffee could perk people up. How it was such an integral part to their day. It was fun to see people gather in the shop, too. How it served as a backdrop to so many happy memories for people of all walks of life. I’d love for Hanna Hut to be a source of happiness for people.”

“That’s quite admirable of you,” he responded. Kylo then plucked the pink mug out of your hand and looked it over. “This one. I think it’s so you.”

Your scrunched your nose up at Kylo, secretly loving how much he towered over you. “What about that mug makes you think of me?”

He pretended to be deep in thought as he scratched his chin. “Hm. For starters, it’s small and cute.” Your cheeks pinked, and he chuckled in response. Throwing an arm around your shoulder he continued, “Come on. Let’s finish shopping, get this stuff shipped to the store, and then grab some lunch. How does Italian sound?”

You tilted you chin up to look at him and squealed, “Only if we can get tiramisu!”

Kylo shook his head, as the realization that he was so whipped for you set in.

Apparently “Italian” meant seats at an exclusive restaurant where the chef, himself, prepared your meal. He introduced himself as Pietro Fagiuolli, and ushered you directly to the kitchen, where a secluded spot was set up by the kitchen island. You realized that there was barely any space between yourself and Kylo, especially given how his knees knocked into yours.

He shot you playful smiles as your legs continued to rub and touch throughout the meal. When he finally felt you relax your knee into his inner thigh, Kylo felt a sudden swell of confidence. Surely all of your playful flirtation and gentle touches must mean something. You didn’t seem the type to flirt your way into getting someone to help you out.

It was now or never. He gently set his fork down with a quiet clink, and folded his hands together in his lap. You felt the air change, and put your own utensils down. Kylo took in a deep breath and murmured quietly enough so that nobody in the kitchen could hear your conversation.

“I don’t want to be too forward, and I don’t want you to think that your answer will affect whether or not I still help out with Hanna Hut...but...how would you feel about dating me?”

He hated how his voice cracked at the end. Despite having faced down some seriously intimidating individuals in court, he’d never done something as heart racing as seriously asking a woman out. Not like this, when he was already so invested from the get go.

You tilted your head and considered the man in front of you for a second before your lip twisted in a little smirk. “I thought that’s what we’re doing now,” you teased. You reached across the stainless steel tabletop and opened your hand up.

Kylo was quick to place a hand in yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Doesn’t hurt to check,” he muttered. Kylo was old school, but he knew better than to just assume everyone else had the same expectations. He spent the better part of his life in New York City, a place where people played fast and loose with feelings. Even if you didn’t seem the type to casually date, Kylo still wanted to make sure before investing more into the relationship.

Your eyes crinkled in amusement and happiness. “Only under one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“We’re exclusive,” you finished.

Kylo laughed, already feeling a million times lighter. Hearing that you wanted him, and only him, made the man’s day. “So I guess that would make you my girlfriend?”

You nodded and stood up on your toes to lean across the table. “Seal it with a kiss?”

He got up to meet you halfway, and your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his plush lips against your own. It was a chaste kiss, but one filled with promise of a future you could never have imagined.

His tongue swiped forward, and just as you were about to deepen the kiss, a throat cleared in the kitchen.

“Really, guys?” Pietro groaned, his voice laced with a thick Italian accent. “Let’s show some respect for my pasta.” His tone was teasing, and he had a wide smile on his face. The man rested a hip at the edge of the island and tossed a towel over his shoulder.

You pushed away from Kylo and shyly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Although it was clear that Pietro was giving Kylo some harmless ribbing, you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. “Thank you for hosting us. The food is amazing,” you awkwardly sputtered.

“You really outdid yourself,” Kylo added, making a point to gesture at your empty plates. The chef chuckled and slapped a hand against Kylo’s back. “Anything for the man who kept me out of jail!”

He took notice of your shocked expression and laughed even louder. “No, nothing crazy! I was being mistaken for some sucker with mob ties. Apparently having a thick Italian accent is enough of a reason to arrest someone in this town.” Pietro rolled his eyes and gave Kylo a jab with his elbow and continued, “But this guy over here believed me. I was only a sous chef at the time, and this guy defended my case pro bono. Promised Mr. Tall, Dark, and Scary that if he kept me out of jail, he’d get free meals whenever he wanted!”

You smiled at how cute Kylo looked with shy and rosy cheeks. You asked, “By this amazing meal, I’m assuming that you won?”

Pietro tossed his arm around Kylo’s shouldered and cheered, “Hell, yes! I owe this guy my life.”

“Alright, alright. Did you come here with dessert or just to chat our ears off?” Kylo groused, clearly embarrassed from all of the praise. Pietro was unfazed though, and turned to shout some Italian over his shoulder. A young man immediately appeared balancing several plates on his hands and forearms.

There was a giant slice of tiramisu, clearly made from scratch. The cream was so fresh and fluffy, it looked like little puffs of clouds with the finest dusting of cocoa. There was also a bowl with generous servings of gelato in all sorts of colors. What excited you the most though, was a narrow rectangular plate.

Placed in a neat row upon the plate were the most beautiful and exquisitely decorated chocolates. They were like miniature pieces of art, each shaped like an iconic symbol of New York City. There was a yellow taxi cab, a skyscraper, a cute little stiletto, and an apple just to name a few. It looked like the colors were all hand painted for goodness sake!

“These are too pretty to eat,” you gushed. Despite your words, your fingers reached out to pick up a little newspaper shaped chocolate. There was even a tiny “NY Times” painted across the top.

Pietro’s chest puffed at your words, proud that you noticed and appreciated the details. “Go on and try it. There’s more where that came from,” he urged.

You took a little nibble and moaned, causing Kylo’s mind to wander to a place unsuitable for public consumption. It was an impossible task though, as you reached across the table and hand-fed the other half of the chocolate to your boyfriend.

He groaned, partially from the burst of chocolate and hazelnut, and partially from the feeling of your fingers gently brushing a stray crumb off the bottom of his lower lip. “These are good,” he muttered. He caught your eye and couldn’t help but share a mischievous smile.

“I’m still here,” Pietro grumbled. Before you could protest, he stuck a finger up and joked, “I’m Italian. I know what those lovey dovey eyes look like, and you two got it bad.”

Pietro signed and nudged Kylo. “How about I leave you two love birds alone before I vomit, and you tell your lady about the deal, eh?” He threw Kylo a pointed look before pressing a friendly kiss against your cheek and disappearing into the back of the kitchen.

You sat up and dug into the cake, mouth full of cream and coffee soaked cake as you asked, “What deal?”

Kylo smiled at the sight of you licking your fingers and answered, “Pietro’s willing to consign his premiere chocolate collection at your shop. Exclusively. It’ll be a great way to generate buzz and make some sales while you’re at it.”

“Consign?” Your nose wrinkled in confusion.

“It means that whatever you sell, you’ll split 50/50. If any product doesn’t get sold, he’ll take it back at no cost. It’s a way for businesses to wholesale a new product without risk.”

Lips still smacking, you wondered aloud, “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but why me? He’s on the shortlist to earning a Michelin Star!”

Kylo reached over and ran his hand along your arm. “I told him about your concept, and he loves it. He really wants to help your business take off.”

“He feels sorry for me,” you sighed. A little pout formed at your lips. On anyone else it would have looked petulant, but Kylo found the way your lips pressed together to be quite endearing.

“No. He really loves your concept and supporting young business owners. I would be lying if I said what he went through didn’t affect him, but he wouldn’t just help anyone out.”

“Okay,” you murmured, still feeling a little shocked. Kylo sensed your trepidation and immediately stood from his seat. He walked around the table and pulled you into a tight hug. Your face pressed against his chest, and you couldn’t help but sag into the embrace.

He ran his hands through your hair, and wondered when you were last held like this. It was so long ago a date didn’t surface.

“Have some confidence in yourself. You’re about to be a...uh...what is it that they call it online? A ‘boss bitch’?”

You snorted into this shirt, “Please don’t say that ever again. But I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“Only if you promise to be kinder to yourself,” he murmured, lifting your face up by the chin with the tip of his index finger.

“Deal.”

Kylo’s face softened, and he gave you a little kiss. As he held you and kissed positive affirmations into your temple, you couldn’t help but give a silent “thank you” to Poe’s stupid stereo system.

#clementine #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #modern au

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