#and discover it's the mature voice of a man on retirement plans.

[lepurcinus]

There is something about the Latin American dubbing of Watership Down and that is that by making the voices of Silver and Pipkin so shrill and "silly" it makes the characters feel different and also makes you feel very off guard when listening to their original English voices because of the noticeable difference in tone.

[profoundbondfanfic]

A Complete Kingdom by komodobits [Explicit, 85k words]

The sea; it swallows me. It comes up to my knees and it swallows me. The boys owe Jody a few dozen favours, and so when her niece goes missing near an old fishing village on the coast of Maine, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Castiel agree to take the case on. They settle into an old abandoned lighthouse-keepers' cottage, and slowly the tide comes in. (post-s8)

Between Love and Agony by Duckyboos [Explicit, 53k words]

Dean Winchester is in love. Like, bonafide heart eyes and deep sighs, hung-the-moon love. There's just one problem: the lucky guy is his husband's identical twin, Castiel. The two of them have been having a kinky affair for years, burrowing under each other’s skin and setting up camp. Which is why, after Castiel goes missing, Dean’s about ready to tear the world apart looking for him. When Castiel eventually returns to him, he’s been through literal hell, managing to drag himself out, bloody and raw, for Dean. Together, they discover a way to make Castiel whole again — though the price will be gruesome... and there will certainly be hell to pay.

Camp by fullvoid [Explicit, 9k words]

It’s 1985 and to say that Dean is relieved when his summer job at the local camp comes to an end would be an egregious understatement. There are about a million different ways he would have rather spent his summer than by being the maladjusted, weird guy that all his coworkers avoid. Nevertheless, in a poor effort to fit in, Dean decides to attend the annual celebration that his fellow counselors organize at the end of every camp season. It isn’t supposed to be anything special, simply a standard party with shitty vodka, late-night skinny dipping, and make-your-ears-bleed soft rock. As it turns out, the hockey-mask-adorned, machete-wielding killer who crashes it has other plans—and no one is prepared for the horrors the night will bring.

et florum magica: (And the Magic of Flowers) by wiccanstiel [Explicit, 52k words]

There’s a large, leafless tree and a road, a hand on a gnarled cane, a stoutly man in a black suit, his face scratched out. When Castiel Novak moves to the small town of Fox Hollow, he’s looking for a fresh start. Only his past seems to be–quite literally–haunting him, and even through his best efforts of settling into his new life, there’s a darkness in the shadows that he can’t seem to shake. And after meeting an otherworldly being named Dean during what was supposed to be a simple walk through the forest, he’s left with more questions than answers. But like it’s residents, Fox Hollow has some well-kept secrets, and things quickly turn to life or death when one of those secrets finally steps from the shadows and into the light.

empty places by dothraki_shieldmaiden [Mature, 71k words]

There’s something outside the house. Something is moving outside the house, moving inside the house. Maybe moving inside him. Something is outside the house, and it wants in. After tragedy derails his life, Castiel Novak needs to escape. He flees to Lawrence, Kansas, where he answers Dean Winchester’s ad for a roommate. There, he tries to mend the shattered pieces of his life. But as he starts to become closer with Dean, Castiel finds that escape isn’t so easy. The past doesn’t want to be left behind, and there’s something inside the house. Something hungry. And it won’t be appeased until it has him.

Good Bones by emmbrancsxx0 [Mature, 39k words]

An apple pie, white picket fence American Nightmare. Dean and Cas, married and semi-retired from hunting, move into their first house together in a sleepy, secluded town. After a few run ins with the ghost that haunts the place, they must come face-to-face with the house's grisly past.

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance (doomcountry) [Teen and Up, 31k words]

Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

Tunnel by deansmultitudes [Explicit, 13k words]

An injury during a hasty job makes Dean, Sam and Cas split up in the underground tunnels. Confused and trapped in a maze of walls that seem to shift at the will of something evil, Dean's frantically searching for his loved ones.

White Noise by saltyfeathers [Mature, 30k words]

in an unnamed, perpetually rainy city on the east coast, something haunts dean and cas’ apartment. they’d like to pretend they don’t know what’s living in the space between them, but feigned ignorance can only keep them above water for so long. something happened nine months ago. something they don’t talk about. but the things people don’t talk about often find ways to speak for themselves, whether dean and cas are ready to pay their dues or not. the rain is an unforgiving entity, and as it continues to pervade the city; as it seeps into their already cold bones, they can feel the ocean rising around them, leaving them choking not on just what happened nine months ago, but what they’ve come to mean to each other since then.

[yelena-bellova]

Freedom to Last: A Don’t Be Afraid Miniseries - Chapter One

Chapter One: Interruption

Plot: It’s a perfectly normal day for the Solo-Damerons. Y/n trains her Padawans, gathers her children and comes home, Poe walks through the door after a long day as General. All is as it should be. Monsters always wait for the concealment of night to prey…

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, death, blood, one sex joke

A/N: WE’RE BACK!!! I’m so excited to jump into this series and it warms my heart that people are still interested in the DBA universe. I hope this story is just as fun to read as the last one. Unlike DBA, this series will cover more mature themes (violence, kidnapping, imprisonment, etc.) so it’s a more mature teen rating. Small changes have bene made, this now takes place three years after the epilogue of DBA, so a total of 6 years since TROS. I had to go back and read some of the old chapter sto makes ure I got my history right. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think!

—————————

Peace had come and peace had stayed.

It felt like a over-simplification to say that peace had just come. Peace had been fought for, willingly and unwillingly. Peace was scarred and bloodstained. But peace shone like a thousand suns and warmed everything in its reach. Peace was worth it, all of it.

I considered peace as I walked amongst my Padawans, who were floating two feet above the ground. Their legs were crossed, their small hands curled against their knees. How they could go from fireballs to perfectly tranquil still amazed me.

The only sounds around us were the soft Naboo winds brushing the high blades of grass, and the occasional fish leaping in and out of the nearby pond. As soon as I ended their exercises, the littlest ones would scurry over to the water and giggle endlessly as they watched his show.

“Alright, students,” I announced, “Return to your starting positions.”

Slowly, and a little rockily, they floated back to the ground. They dusted off their pants and stood to attention.

“That was very good,” I smiled, “Lots of improvement. Remember that to sustain your altitude, you have to fully give yourself over to the Force. It’s not so much forgetting what you’re doing as it is having peace about it.”

“Yes, Master Y/n,” their voices piped up.

“Alright,” I grinned, “Training’s done for the day. I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning.”

Excited conversations broke out in pairs, a few walked back to the temple, and the youngest took off hand in hand for the pond.

“They’re getting better,” Rey called from behind me, leading her own group of Padawans back from their trek.

I walked in her direction, “Aren’t they? How was the hike?”

“You’re all done for the day,” Rey announced to her class, “Remember to hydrate,” she turned back to me, “Very freeing. We’re close to getting to the top of the mountain.”

When Rey and I first established our training center, we thought we might be able to recruit a few younglings and grow over the years. What we got was an influx of young Force-wielders. The First Order’s reign had caused many to conceal their abilities. As they disappeared, so did the fear of being discovered. There were so many students enrolled that we had to split them up between us; Rey took those aged 8-14 and I took 3-7.

“Are you going to see Finn tonight?” Rey asked as we walked back to the temple.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said, “Why?”

“I want to lend him one of the texts,” she explained, “He blew through the last one so fast, I thought I’d have more time before he needed this one.”

Finn, the best man of us all, was flourishing. Not only was he co-leading the Resistance, but he was nearing the end of his Jedi training. I had retired from active military service for the purpose of working more with the Force, but he balanced it all perfectly. I was both impressed and slightly envious.

There was also the small case of Finn and Rey and their…whatever it was.

“Give it to me and I’ll have Poe bring it in to him tomorrow,” I shrugged, my expressionless face curling a smirk, “Or you could go and give it to him yourself.”

Rey gave a healthy dose of side eye, “Don’t.”

“What?” I faked innocence.

“That.”

“What ‘that?’”

“That.”

“I just suggested that you go and give our friend the book you’re lending him for his training,” I threw my hands up in surrender, “Though if you were to stay, the sunset’s supposed to be beautiful toni- ow!”

A firm whack of her satchel silenced me. For all of my trying, I’d never get her to own the way her eyes lit up when she was with Finn.

“I’ll bring it right down,” she called, running ahead into the main building.

I took it as an opportunity to appreciate what we’d built. The temple and its grounds were modest, mixing different architectural stlyes to create something uniquely us. The main building was styled after the old temple on Coruscant in the days of the New Republic, when my grandfather would have been a master. But the huts and the stone ground outside were less modern. Rey and I had taken inspiration from Ach-To, the place where both of our Force journeys had taken shape. The whole place felt like home and I was happy our Padawans shared in that feeling.

Judging by the sun’s position, it was time for me to head out for the evening. I started down the stone path that led to the open field, already excited for what awaited me. The closer I got, the more sounds became prominent. High pitched giggles, quick beeps, grass rustling underneath two pairs of feet…each one set my heart alight.

Finally, I got close enough to see the scene. Through the high plains, my two children chased BB-8, with R2 watching from close by.

My babies, their heads covered in dark mops of curls like their father, bounced and toddled through the grass. They shrieked in happiness as BB-8 reversed course and began chasing them. R2 watched them like a nervous mother, ready to intervene at any moment if one of them needed anything. This was exactly how I wanted them growing up; free and full of joy.

“Room for one more?” I called, walking through the field to come join them.

“Mama!” They screamed, runnning at top speed to me. When they reached me, I knelt down and let them topple me over.

“I missed you,” Lyra, my daughter, exclaimed.

“I missed you too,” Jax followed up, never one to be outdone by his sister.

Kisses were pressed to their heads, “I missed you both so much. Ready to go home?”

A resounding chorus of ‘yes’ came.

“R2 and BB come too?” Lyra asked.

“R2’s going to stay here with Aunt Rey,” I explained, R2 hopped between living at our home and the temple, “But Daddy needs BB, so we’ll bring him with.”

They cheered, while I chuckled quietly to myself, “Daddy would fall into a bottomless pit of sadness.”

Rey caught up to us, holding out the Jedi text. “Off you go, without another word,” she ordered me, sweetly changing her tone to address her niece and nephew, “Here’s a game to play on the way home; if Mommy says anything about me or Uncle Finn, scream really loud until she stops.”

Jax and Lyra excitedly bounced up and down before taking off with Bee.

I shot Rey a sarcastic smile, “You’re a gem.”

“And you’re annoying,” she replied with the same smile.

“See you tomorrow,” I called, strolling behind the twins.

“See you then.”

Jax and Lyra chased Bee the whole way back to the Falcon. While my starfighter was precious, it hadn’t been very practical once I started bringing the twins along with me. The Falcon, when not in use by the Resistance, was what I used to fly us the short ten minutes from the temple to our home.

“Can I fly the ship, Mama?” Jax asked as we boarded.

A spitting image of his father, he was the one Dameron whose appetite for adrenaline I had a shot at curbing.

“Not till you’re older, bud,” I said as we made our way to the cockpit.

My body relaxed as soon as I entered the Falcon. Up until Naboo, it was the place I’d lived longest in my life. The twins were growing up in the co-pilot seat, watching both their parents fly the beast.

“Where are our seatbelts?” I began our checklist, a silly little routine I’d come up with to make flying more fun.

“Around our waist,” they answered in unison. We’d also installed seatbelts.

I adjusted a few switches, “Where are our hands?”

“At our sides.”

“Where are our heads?”

“In the sky!”

Smiling proudly, I powered up the ship.“Then let’s gooooo!”

With a round of cheers and hand claps, we lifted off the ground and headed home.

—————————

Upon getting back to our modest homestead, I changed out of my Jedi robes and into my mom clothes. The only piece of the ensemble that always remained with me was my lightsaber, clipped to my belt.

I watched the twins play in the backyard through the floor to ceiling glass windows in the dining room. Poe and I had taken our time taking the house from a bare bones to something beautiful. We finished about half way through my pregnancy, when we got a curveball thrown at us.

Jax.

During the first scan, the doctor was confidant that there was one child and one child only. It was at the seecond one, with Poe anxiously gripping my hand and studying the screen, that the doctor made an announcment. There was a second heartbeat.

There was a moment of panic, we’d have been crazy not to. Two babies. Two cribs. Two sets of screaming 2AM wake up calls. Two bottles. Two of everything. But by the time we got back home, we were overjoyed.

“It’s a good thing, right?” Poe had smiled, “Two little yous.”

“Or two little yous,” I grinned, imagining what our babies may look like.

Poe took my hands, rubbing his thumbs across the skin, “We waited so long for this. I’m not gonna complain that we’re getting more of it than expected.”

It was true. We had waited to start our future until we were in the best possible place. I couldn’t have found true problems with it if I tried…

I shook my head with a smile, “You don’t do anything by half, Dameron.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” he winked, pulling me into this chest.

My husband had, indeed, won the genetic lottery. The kids, from their hair to their personalitties, were just like their father. It only mattered to me that they were hapy and healthy, but there was a small part of me that hoped they might take on some of my traits as they got older.

I gave birth on the rare rainy Naboo day, the queen having loaned me the royal birthing suite at the hospital. We already had their first names picked out, but made a judgement call as we held them in our arms that night. Poe was squeezed beside me in bed, an arm around my back.

“We gonna do middle names?” Poe asked softly, Lyra dozing against his chest.

“I hadn’t even thought of it,” I never looked up from Jax, admiring the creases in the corners of his eyes, “I mean, I don’t have one. Neither do you.”

Poe inched one shoulder up into a shrug, not wanting to disturb his daughter, “Could be nice to start a tradition.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

He thought for a moment, “What about for Jaxon…Kes and Han?”

“Jaxon Kes Han Solo-Dameron?” I tested the name, “That’s a mouthful.”

“And Lyra Leia Shara Solo-Dameron?”

I tried to laugh quietly, “Poe, that’s five names. And listen to all the ‘a’s.’ She’ll never forgive us.”

“She’s got you as a mom, she’s got Rey as an aunt…I want her to have a piece of our moms to carry with her through life,” Poe whispered, “A’s be darned.”

Smiling and shaking my head, I looked from my husband to my kids. I already knew they was force sensitive, they were already carrying three legacies for three different lineages, the Damerons, the Solos and the Kenobis…

Then I thought about how much I’d have loved to be named after Sola. Perhaps I was named after some relative long passed. Lyra and Jax would never know all their grandparents, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be connected to them.

“Lyra Leia Shara Solo-Dameron,” I looked back down to Jax, “Jaxon Kes Han Solo-Dameron. Don’t hate us for how we love you.”

Poe snorted, prompting me to join him in a hushed fit of laughter.

Now my overly named children were on their feet every hour of the day, demanding Bee be at their constant beck and call, already asking to fly ships and wield lightsabers. They were everything Poe and I had expected them to be. They were truly Solos and Damerons.

The security system to the house beeped, announcing an incoming ship. I picked up my tablet, though there was no need to. I knew exactly who it was. I just liked seeing the familiar X-Wing fly in every night.

A moment later, the front door opened, and my body was once again put at perfect ease.

“I’m home.”

Nearly seven years together and a decade of knowing one another, and the sound of Poe’s voice still set me on a lovely edge. I looked forward to him coming home each night just as much as I did when we were young commanders, expecting him back from a mission.

And the sight of him…forget about it.

He strolled in, handsome as ever, in his general’s uniform. He’d shaved the beard a while back, when the twins were babies and it became a pain-inflicting form of entertainment to tug on it. The stubble retook its place. There were some grays still coming in on his head, though Poe would never admit it. He wore it all so well, it was almost annoying how perfect he could look without trying.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “Hi,” he whispered huskily.

“Hi,” I smiled against the lips that were already coming in hot.

The kiss was sweet and eager, like the ten hours we were apart were just enough to bring him to the line between gentle longing and agony. I took all of it, bracing myself by gripping his collar and melting into his body.

Once we pulled apart, a loopy grin appeared on his face. “How was your day?”

“Good,” I smiled like a lovestruck teenager, “You?”

“Long,” he answered, rubbing his hand up and down my back, “Had a meeting with a couple of the Mon Calamari royalty.”

“Ah, that explains the uniform,” I smoothed out the collar.

Poe tugged at the neck, “It’s suffocating.”

I looked from his lips and back up to his eyes, “It’s hot.”

The signature Poe Dameron smirk made its way across his lips, “Then it’s worth suffering for.”

Without another word, the air changed from electric to soothing. One peck to my lips, a squeeze of my waist and he walked off to the kitchen.

“Did the funding come through?” I asked as I followed him through the house.

“Yeah,” Poe reached into a cabinet and grabbed a glass, “It’s not like we’re launching a full-scale attack or anything. We just need to cover some ship repairs, maybe nab a few from a yard somewhere.”

“If you need me to come throw some weight around, I can,” I came and leaned agaisnt the counter, “My grandfather had good relations with the Mon Calamari, so did Mom.”

Poe drank, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow, before setting the glass down. “I think we got it in the bag, but thank you for reminding me that my wife could do my job in her sleep.”

“Not true,” I shook my head, “You and Finn are doing a great job. Three would just crowd the place up at this point.”

Poe gave a half smile as he leaned over the sink, his mind visibly drifting elsewhere. I could sense his unease.

“What is it?” I asked, getting silence in return. That was serious. “I can already feel there’s something you’re not telling me, so there’s no point in hiding.”

Poe scrunched his face up, “But I’m getting better at it?”

I spared a fake laugh and scooted closer, our shoulders brushing. “Come on...”

“There’s been a few…” he sighed, “I don’t even know what to call them. Attacks, I guess, working their way through the systems.”

It wasn’t totally shocking, I’d seen on the Holonet that in the Outer Rim, a few Imperial and First Order disciples had attacked local businesses. Theft, arson, while awful, were still classified as minor compared to what crimes had been committed during the war.

“I read about the Rattatak one earlier today. And Felucia.”

“That’s the thing,” Poe sighed, “They seem to be working their way through the systems, starting with the Outer Rim and working their way in. They just attacked Kashyyyk today. Chewie’s there now checking things out and offering help.”

“Wait, so why is this being kept quiet?” I asked, “I didn’t read anything about Kashyyyk.”

Poe rubbed his hands over his face, “Because technically it’s not something to worry about yet. It’s not an uprising, it’s a bunch of kids thinking they know how to run a galaxy. In an ideal world, it just wouldn’t be happening. I don’t have jurisdiction anywhere where they’re happening, the Resistance barely has any pull on those planets. They’re tying my hands.”

It was then I realized I couldn’t remember a time where I didn’t think like a military strategist. Maybe when I was young, but as soon as Mom had started taking me to senate hearings, I was long gone.

“Are we sending relief?” I continued.

“Of course,” Poe answered, “I sent Chewie with orders to give them whatever they need.”

I shrugged, “Then I guess that’s all we do at this point. We did clean up for so long, there’s always a group who thinks they can do it better than the last guys. Nothing ever comes from it.”

“Yeah,” Poe quietly said, “I know.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and leaned into his back, he held onto my wrists.

“It’s a waste of time thinking about it, but,” Poe paused turning his head towards me, “I wish there’d never been a war.”

It was a thought I’d had nearly every day since the fight had begun. Had there been no war, I’d have never lost precious years with my brother, I’d have never lost my parents, my uncle, hood friends…I’d have become a completely different person.

Jax’s scream of his sister’s name, followed by a round of laughter broke me out of my head.

Had there been no war, Poe and I would have never crossed paths. I’d have never been stranded on Jakku and met Rey and Finn. I’d have never been led to Ach-To and learned my heritage. I’d have never married Poe. I’d have never given birth to Jax and Lyra.

“I do too,” I replied, getting to my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his ear, “But something beautiful was born from it.”

I kissed his temple softly and Poe stroked his hand across my arm. We watched through the windows as our kids played in the grass. Soon, they’d realize that it was long past the time their father came home and run inside to greet him. Dinner would be had, leftovers tonight, and the table would be filled with laughter. Poe and I would tuck them in, give plenty of hugs and kisses, before retiring to our own room. We’d fall asleep in each other’s arms as we always had, and life would continue on just how it had for the past three years…

—————————

*BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEP*

*BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEP*

The emergency communication signal through our bedroom. I woke first, looking to Poe’s nightstand but realizing the noise was coming from both of ours. That never happened.

“Poe,” I slurred, shaking my husband’s arm, “Poe, wake up.”

“What,” he exclaimed, clearing his throat after.

“Comms,” I rolled over and picked up my device, “This is Y/n.”

“Y/n,” Rose Tico called, “The base is under attack. We need you and Poe here now.”

My heart came to a grinding halt, “What?”

“We’re being invaded, we need help.”

Without another thought, I jumped out of bed, “We’re on our way.”

Poe was just finishing his conversation as well, throwing the covers off and grabbing his pants from the floor.

“What the hell?” He mumbled as he threw his clothes on.

I frantically ran to throw a tunic on over my camisole. I threw my hand out and used the Force to retrieve my lightsaber. Though my mind was inflamed with worry, my thinking were still clear.

“3PO!” I yelled, rushing out the bedroom and into the hall, “3PO!”

“Yes, Mistress Y/n,” the protocol droid came waddling in, “How may I-“

“Protect the kids,” I ordered, “The base is under attack.

“Oh, my goodness-“

Any other comments went unheard, I was already out the front door with Poe skidding behind.

“Take the fighters,” he called.

We sprinted around the edge of our house to where the ships were parked. Poe’s X-Wing and my starfighter sat next to one another, waiting for their next call to action.

I unlatched the cockpit and hopped in, not even bothering to fasten my seatbelt but making a point of putting on my headset to communicate with Poe.

“All set?” He rang in my ear.

“Ready,” I reported, the hum of the ship’s innards coming to life. I don’t think I’d ever gotten it in the air quicker.

The ten minute flight seemed to take hours. The closer we got, the clearer the smoke trails were. The base was ablaze.

“You seeing this?” I asked, it was an obvious question but I was dumbstruck.

“I see it,” Poe answered.

We finally neared base, miniature sized bodies scattering in and out of the building. Poe and I landed in the outer part of the hanger, the one area that didn’t seem to be under attack yet.

As soon as I leapt out of my cockpit, smoke hit my nostrils. Blasterfire and screams rang through the air. It took me straight back to the war.

“Let’s go,” Poe yelled, pulling me back to the present.

Extending my lightsaber, the two of us ran towards the back entrance through the hanger. The hallways were pure chaos. Resistance personnel ran hunched over, dodging blaster fire from the invaders. As one woman ran past us, her attacker came chasing after her a second later. Poe, wielding a blaster, landed a shot to his chest.

“Get to the med bay,” I ordered the woman, turning to Poe, “We have to find Finn.”

We took off down the next hall, the various ones around it bringing a stream of cries for help. They’d attacked the halls of the non-combat personnel first, it seemed. It made sense, wipe out all the easy targets first.

Poe and I began to return their attack one by one, my lightsaber slashing through blasters and sticking itself in the chests of the opposing team. Poe and I went back to back at one of the hubs, wiping our separate halls out. It didn’t matter how long it had been since we’d fought together, we were a perfectly oiled machine.

Eventually, we got to the main hall where the offices were. In the distance, I spotted a dark figure landing punches and taking shots.

“Finn!” I called out.

His head perked up, “Y/n!”

Poe and I sprinted down the hall, taking out a few of the invaders on our way.

“What the hell happened?” I asked while dodging a blast.

“They came out of nowhere,” Finn replied, twisting a man’s arm and pulling, causing a sick crack, “Security didn’t even catch them.”

Poe pushed me down to the ground, saving me from a near fatal shot, and fired back. While on my knees, I used the Force to pull a few men to the ground, landing roundhosue kicks once I was back on my feet. I swung my lightsaber around to stab though the shoulder of one who was aiming at Poe.

“Coming at you!” Finn yelled in my direction.

I whipped around and he Force launched his attacker toward me. Spinning, I slashed my lightsaber through his abdomen and shoved him to the ground.

Once we’d eliminated everyone in our hall, we took off toward the center of the base. Inside the war room, there were several Resistance member clutching their wounds and trying to help one another.

“We gotta get out front,” Poe said, “See where they’re coming from.”

We made a beeline for the main entrance where the majority of the blasterfire was coming from. Our soldiers were holding a defensive line to try and keep anyone else from getting in. Poe took up position with them while Finn and I slipped out the side. I dodged blaster fire with my lightsaber and used the Force to knock over one half of the offensive. It gave our team the opportunity to ground most of them. Once the rest of our attackers realized that they had greatly underestimated our numbers, they began to retreat back to their ships.

There was a moment of shocked silence after they left. The noise inside had died down, it seemed like a collective call had been made to leave. In the distance, I could see the Naboo fire and rescue team flying in, ready to take down the flames.

Poe got up from his spot and came to me and Finn, throwing his arms around me. The power of fear that came with fighting was something I’d forgotten.

“Let’s get inside,” he led, “Assess the damage.”

The three of us grabbed three gas masks to help with smoke inhalation and walked the halls. We helped the injured get to the med bay and checked to make sure the bodies strewn weren’t wearing Resistance colors. Sadly, we’d lost at least a dozen.

“You notice anything about these guys?” I asked, looking at one with a lightsaber hole through his chest.

“What do you mean?” Finn asked.

I looked down the rest of the hall, all the intruders wore matching grey uniforms. Similar to what Imperials used to wear during Palpatine’s reign.

“They’re all uniformed,” I answered, nudging the man’s boot with mine.

Poe and Finn looked around them, confirming what I’d said.

“This wasn’t random like Felucia or Kashyyyk,” I continued, “This was coordinated.”

“Guys,” Rose called breathlessly from the end of the hall, “You gotta come see this.”

The three of us followed her to the growing crowd of personnel all staring at something. Getting closer, I could see they were surrounding a body. I couldn’t have imagined what I’d see when the people parted for us.

A woman in a lieutenant’s uniform with her chest slashed open, blood pooling in her lap. A crimson stained paper was tagged to her shoulder. I had to kneel down, the mask barely shielding me from the smell, to read what it said.

‘DEATH TO THE RESISTANCE. LONG LIVE THE NEW EMPIRE.’

I unpinned the note from the dead woman’s jacket, the only dignity I could give her. My eyes didn’t leave her lifeless face as I handed the paper up to Poe and Finn. Their stunned silence matched mine.

The communicator in the pocket of my sweatpants went off, I blindly pulled it out and switched it on.

“Yeah?” I said, the syllable barely leaving my lips.

“Y/n,” Rey called over, “What’s going on? I can see the smoke from here.”

I took the first breath I could actually feel since waking up. “There was an attack,” I stated, my eyes still staring at the woman’s soulless eyes, “We’re okay.”

“What happened? Who was it?”

I pivoted to look up at Poe and Finn, who were just as confused as I was. Yet even with so little information, it all made perfect sense. None of the attacks had been random. They were part of something much bigger. Something that was heading straight towards us.

—————————

Freedom to Last Taglist: @mads-weasley

Poe Dameron Taglist: @lostinwonderland314 @theliterarymess @maybeimart @x-judyjude-x @dindjarinsspouse @generousrunawaydonut @sugarpunch-princess @morganlefaye13 @pancakefancake

[flowerwrites06]

diamond trail I — myg

Plot: The theft of his most elusive and mystery possession leads to a web of trickery that threatens every large syndicate in the country. (alternative: Yoongis’ prized possession is stolen but he’s not the only gang leader being betrayed)

Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Yoongi x Consigliere!Y/N

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 4k+

Genre: Mafia | Marriage | Mature Themes/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: criminal activities, mentions of past abuse (outside of the pair), explicit smut (spanking and very brief anal play), mild violence, coarse language.

Authors Note: it’s here friends!! i’m still a little rusty in terms of writing fanfiction after a while so please be kind lmaoo

A huge thanks to @casuallyimagining​ and @aroseforyoongi​ for helping with the proofreads! 

Gold Dust held patronage of all heads in the underworld, allowing them to orchestrate the most exclusive and grandest auctions. You and Yoongi walked through the vault doors, hands intertwined with one another as two suited guards led you down the velvet lined stairs. Your footsteps silenced amongst the beating music of the club above. Your chest relaxed as soon as the soothing violins and piano touched your ears in the underground facility. Black marble walls and pillars encased you along with the sea of Italian silk suits and satin gowns.

Yoongi huffed at the very sight of them. All of these blank slates were products of a long-running nepotism. He might’ve been the only one alive who succeeded a popular gang leader. Then again, his father lived far too long for his own good and had way too many wives to be considered human.

What annoyed him further was the organization. Only the benefactors received private booths. The non-patrons had to be squeezed in with a potential rival in order to provide more benefits for the ones funding these events.

The suited guards stopped at the front booth on the right. Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek until it almost drew blood when he saw their seating partner.

“Min! Didn’t expect to see you crawl out of your hole.” Kim Namjoon wore the smile of a champion with the attitude of a diseased rat. Since he was part of the three oldest gangs alive, there was much respect to be handed to the man. Except Yoongi had no interest giving him the satisfaction.

So Namjoon made a goal to make his life a living hell.

Namjoons’ eyes flickered over to you, smile softened but gaze sharpened. “The beloved consigliere.” He raked up and down your form. “You look a lot better without business clothes, my lady.”

Yoongis’ grip on your hand tightened as you sat down on the other end of the booth. You pat the back of his hand as a silent comfort.

“Remember why we’re here,” you whispered.

Yoongi nodded. “I know.”

Normally, Yoongi brushed past events of pure greed and showy behaviour. However their syndicate suffered from a planned robbery a week ago. Only one item taken with precision: his mothers’ diamond gun. Everything else was untouched, barely shifted. They knew what they were doing.

You managed to trace it down to Kim Taehyungs’ annual auction. It’ll be natural to assume that Taehyung was the thief but most auction presenters had nothing to do with direct theft. More often than not, they were connected to the thieves to ensure that their place in the web of connections was concealed. Or at least delayed until they could escape to a safe house.

The room darkened; a spotlight shone down the stage. Kim Taehyungs’ lean figure stood proud, adorned in a red silk shirt and his hair curled. A ruby clip glimmered on the side of his head while his rings practically danced on his fingers. “Welcome my beautiful patrons to another friendly exchange of luxuries.” A calculated smile tugged at his lips. “I must say I’ve never seen such variety in a small listing before so this will be one for the ages. The underworld is aware of our rich history, our legends and ancestors who built this country without a trace of credit.”

Taehyungs’ words silenced the crowd to a point where you had to check they were still there.

“Tonight, I have items from each of these legends. Specifically the eight who strengthened that foundation.” Taehyung held a fist up. “Are you all ready?”

An applause indicated their approval earning a satisfied grin from Taehyung.

“Our first item belonged to Don Hayoon of So Pa.” He waved his hand for an assistant to roll the stand into center stage. “A vase made from ox bone and inlaid with gold to create this beautiful marble pattern. Don Hayoon allegedly made it himself during his years of retirement.”

So Pa disbanded eleven years ago due to a police raid in majority of their warehouses but they must’ve missed a few things. Yoongi wondered whether it was taken from the police or the gang itself. The whole retirement story must’ve been a ploy. Don Hayoon had arthritis which is why he had to retire in the first place before embarrassing himself in front of rivals.

Obviously none of these idiots would know that and Taehyung was milking it for what it’s worth.

The price was called and the cards flew up. Anyone with that vase in their house would gain prestige in seconds. It’ll be talked about from all corners of the underworld. Eventually a smug woman in a red suit won the bid.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hold your hand up, Min,” Namjoon spoke. “Considering you’re probably the only person who’s met Don Hayoon.”

“I’ve met him. I’m sure that’s enough for me to go on.” Yoongi landed his hand on your thigh, soft pink chiffon under his rough palm. He squeezed for some kind of comfort and glue to stop him from losing brain cells too early in the night.

“Considering the nature of your parents, I expected you to have more style.”

Nails dents could’ve formed your skin with the way he dug into your thigh. “Darling.” You pulled off his hand.

“Sorry.” Yoongi rubbed the area to somehow soothe it.

“The second item on our list belonged to Don Chun Hei of Mal Pa.” The assistant pushed in the second stand, holding a rose gem necklace which stood on a black velvet altar. “Chun Hei was best known for working closely with the mayor. Her reforms are the very reason these auctions and many other underworld events can be held with elegance and class. This necklace was a gift from the mayor himself. The rose gem is meant to be a culmination of diamond and rose quartz. Whoever made it has long since disappeared but this necklace has carried on this wonderful legacy.”

Chun Hei was someone both you and Yoongi could respect without question. Mal Pa had no age or prestige in the time Chun Hei made a connection to the mayor. She took her simple street gang and turned it into a professional syndicate that still lasted to this day.

You wondered if her descendants knew just the impact she had to the underworld. This item caused a stir amongst the crowd, suffusing the air with an eerie atmosphere of confusion and even anger. As the prices were called out, you noticed two people constantly raising the stakes to the peak until one of them gave up when it stretched too far. Except the one who gained the artefact didn’t look happy. You discovered that the anger came from them. The diamond gun may not have been the only thing stolen.

How many gang leaders was this thief trying to anger?

The power of auctions was the need to be elegant and impressive. Despite a small portion of the crowd knowing what was going on, they couldn’t say anything. Underworld events are where no leader has ultimate power. Everyone had to stay quiet and let the auction proceed.

“The necklace would’ve looked lovely on you, my lady. Perhaps I could buy it off as a gift.” Namjoon rested his hand out on the back of the couch so his fingertips were a breath away from your hair.

“No thank you,” you stated plainly.

If Yoongi didn’t have enough fuel to kill Namjoon before, it was brimming now. Every ounce of patience layered around him so he could sit still on his chair and let the auction go smoothly. He wasn’t going to raise his voice nor his hand first.

“Our third item is a notorious one at best. The famed Sapphire Assassins’ ledger.” Murmurs of recognition spread across the crowd. “Her true name was Mishil, right hand to Don Sungho of Jwi Pa. Sungho was an ambitious gang leader who believed the country’s underworld should have an ultimate master. He anointed himself and hired a professional assassin to kill everyone off on his hit list. Mishil listed all her killings down in this very ledger.”

Excitement coursed through your body seeing the battered old ledger. The blue covers patched with black ink splotches and the pages were tinged brown. You imagined the different ways she could’ve formulated her assassinations; the connections she had to make to be successful in such an elaborate scheme.

“As most of you might be aware, Mishil succeeded in the deaths of many gang leaders. However three gangs were able to execute her and Sungho before chaos could reach its full potential. To this day, no one has ever pulled a deed this vast and destructive. Not a friend to most of our gangs but there is surely a sense of power by having her failed ledger displayed in your home.” Taehyungs’ smirk marked success as soon as he called out for the prices.

Power was a key word to this crowd. While the more hardened members like Yoongi and Namjoon knew it was just a play for sales, Taehyung didn’t relish in the shouting any less.

While your angle wasn’t for power, your fingers still twitched to raise a card. Curiosity tugged at the back of your head, wondering how Mishil managed to gain that many openings and occurrences. Her techniques would’ve been useful in future assignments. All the syndicates you could manipulate for deals and contracts. Getting out of contracts. Anything. So many pieces of information must’ve been overflowing out of that ledger, calling out to you like a siren song. With a small sigh, you calmed the adrenaline pumping through your veins. This auction wasn’t a pleasure trip. You needed to focus.

The ledger was handed off to a man in a navy suit. At best, he would display it on his study like a fool. What a waste.

Reaching into your crystal clutch, you brought out a notepad and pen. If you couldn’t get the ledger now then there is a chance something could be arranged later. The auction was reaching its halfway point which meant the most valuable items are to come now.

“This fourth item belonged to Don Daeshim of Tokki Pa. The gang leader who drove away international syndicates striving to take over the country’s underworld. A bit of a hero. Rumor has it, he took a few drops of blood from each of those international associates and filled this goblet to the top.” Taehyung waved his fingers over the goblet mouth, mesmerizing the crowd like a herd of animals.

You observed the price calling with a brutally sharp eye. It might not seem valuable in the business sense but international associates may have had families and the like. Someone who might want compensation at the right time. You scribbled the description of the one who received the goblet. Thankfully, they had a noticeable scar down their left cheek with a distinguished citrine ring that was only sold by two jewelers.

“I wonder what it’s like having to work for someone you’ve married. Must be a pain hearing requests left to right.” Namjoons’ comment caused another stir in Yoongi but you stayed calm.

“If you think a consigliere simply takes requests then I feel sorry for yours. God forbid they find out they might be worth something more.” You narrowed your gaze.

“The Lady has venom.” Namjoon chuckled. “I mean no insult, of course.”

Yoongi tried to hold in a scoff, biting the inside of his cheek.

Silence spread amongst the three of you as Taehyung announced the fifth item: a gold mask once used to suffocate the Don of Yang Pa so his son could take over quicker. The sixth item was a First Lady’s dress which held at least a kilo of cocaine, hidden in every rhinestone and gem in small portions. It was later confiscated by the police but Gold Dust always knew how to make use of their connections.

Then seventh item caused a stir in Namjoon. For the first time in the night or ever, you noticed a sense of true and pure fury twisting his features.

“Our second to last item is a jade bracelet that belonged to Don Nari of Sutal Pa. A gang as full of mysteries and tragedies as its main rival, Gae Pa. Don Nari was the default leader after a tragic fire struck the Kim family. Leaving her and her young brother the only living descendants.” Taehyung lightly pressed on the bracelet, causing sharp gold spikes to spread out of it. “This was her weapon of choice. People had the habit of grabbing her wrist when they wanted to make a point so she had this bracelet made to show that she was untouched.” He blinked slowly.

“You son of a bitch,” Namjoon whispered under his breath.

“You’re not the only one riled up, Kim. Calm down.” Yoongi glared at Namjoon both as a warning and courtesy nudge to protect himself from embarrassment. “Don’t raise your hand.”

“Fuck off,”

“Namjoon,” Yoongi warned.

Namjoon shifted on his seat, fingers itching to grab onto his gun and shoot the auctioneer right in between his brows.

For once, Yoongi shared his anger. Of all the things they could take from them, they had to target the most precious object tied to a painful memory.

You noted down the buyer immediately. Park Jimin. He was a chain restaurant owner distantly associated with Yoongi but he soon began delving into arts dealing. He should be the easiest one to track down.

Yoongi had been slightly distracted by Namjoons’ downward spiral. His heart jumped before his mind caught up at the sound of his mothers’ name.

“It’s my honor to present to you our final item. The Diamond Gun of Min Areum.”

The gun rested inside a glass case lifted by a velvet lined platform. Lined in gold, encrusted with diamonds, glimmering brighter than the stars in a country sky. Everyone in the audience murmured in excitement, eager to lift their cards for the bidding.

“She was the First Lady of the oldest syndicate alive, Gae Pa. Her life as the wife of Don Min wasn’t pretty and filled with troubles. One day, she took her son to a mysterious jeweler and gave away all her diamond and gold jewelry. See this jeweler specialized in beautifying weapons and he made this priceless work of art. The same gun, Min Areum to shoot down Don Min and take over as Don herself.”

Yoongi could’ve sworn that Taehyung directed a smirk at him. Mocking him of the fact that he had such a prize in his midst. Flailing it right in front of him as a form of public humiliation.

Cards practically flew up to the ceiling in their sheer speed. Prices thrown from the left to right giving Yoongi a headache. He could hear his mothers’ voice, the small purple bruise on left eye as she took him to the jewelry shop every week. It was their only time of peace.

You reached out and touched his thigh, bringing his attention back.

Then a familiar voice brought you both to a still.

“Sold to Kim Namjoon!” Taehyung announced while the crowd huffed and cheered.

Yoongi glared at the man.

“What? You never said I couldn’t buy your shit.” Namjoon relaxed back on the couch, unrelenting in his own glare.

As the auction concluded, Taehyung announced that an afterparty will be held at the top level of Gold Dust. You noticed most of them were ready to jump off their chairs and kill him but he’d already disappeared backstage. Most likely straight to his vehicle so there was no time for anyone to act.

Yoongis’ body radiated a thick air of heat and the glares shared between the two leaders were sharp.

“We’ll settle this where there’s less people, gentlemen. Calm yourselves.” You glanced around at all the patrons and attendees either excitedly murmuring or harshly whispering. It was a strange atmosphere tonight. One can only wish there won’t be any bloodshed.

***

“Are you fucking serious? You know fully well it was stolen from me!” Yoongi growled. Both gang leaders were toe to toe in a dark corner of the club. Others were mingling on their own problems and issues with the auction and some were close to losing their inside voices.

“And I bought it fair and square. Don’t you think it’s a little childish that you’re simply asking me for it?” Namjoon spoke through gritted teeth. “Now get the fuck out of my way. I have business to deal with.”

Yoongi pressed a hand on his chest. “I could give Jimin one word and you’ll never find that bracelet even if it was up your own damn ass. So stay put.”

“I’m the last person you can scare with status, Min. You know this. I’ll snap my fingers—” he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. “—and your wife will be on her knees for me.”

Yoongi pulled out a small silver blade and pressed to Namjoons’ neck. Eyes darkened in fury. Hungry for a taste of his blood staining the floor, for that face to twist in despair.

“Stop it. Both of you.” Your voice struck firm as you pushed them apart. “Don’t you understand why this auction took place?”

Yoongi and Namjoon stared at you in confusion. You sighed in annoyance.

“Someone is trying to play with your minds. Causing you to drop blood so they don’t have to get their hands dirty. Why do you think all those artefacts were dumped into one auction? Where almost all the gangs of this country were attending?” Your eyes flickered from Yoongi to Namjoon. “Doesn’t that sound a little strange? From the naked eye, you’d think they were just silly but clearly—” You gestured at the both of them. “—whatever they’re trying is working. No one knows who the thief is. That causes suspicion and rumors.”

“We start blaming each other for spilling information,” Yoongi continued.

You nodded, relieved that some understanding spread through their faces. “We need to regroup in a neutral zone. Gold Dust isn’t that anymore. Once we find a place and time, we’ll figure what needs to be done. For now, separate.”

The leaders shared another sharp glare at each other before Namjoon walked away. Some of the heads that were turned to them now moved back and Yoongi hid his blade.

“Where’s the fucking restroom?” Yoongi hissed. You took his hand and led him over to the left side of the room, slithering through the crowd.

Two guards were already situated at the doors as Yoongi kept a grip on your hand when you walked into the restroom. The bright lights made him groan in annoyance.

Anyone who saw them enter immediately rushed out. The tension in the auction was so high that nobody wanted to be found near an angry gang leader.

Yoongi leaned forward on the marble sink, breathing ragged and his limbs shaking from anger. The last memory of his mother now rested in someone elses’ hands. Why couldn’t she come up with something less physical? Something that couldn’t be stolen. Namjoon was holding it now. I’ll snap my fingers. He was right. He had the power. There was no ultimate leader to call the shots. Just however reached the flag first. And if he reached first—no. He shook his head. Namjoon wasn’t the problem right now.

He let the water run, wanting the sound to drown any visions or thoughts that made bile reach up to his throat.

“Yoongi,” you muttered, rubbing his arm. “You okay?”

“I tried—I kept my cool but—when you mentioned you—” he rubbed his face roughly. “I—fuck—I could’ve killed him. I could’ve killed him.”

“But you didn’t.” You caressed the back of his head. “It’ll be okay. I know it feels like all the strings that surfaced are jumbled but they’ll come together. We’ve been through much worse than this, okay?”

Yoongi sighed. “I remembered her for the first time in years.” He chuckled sadly. “I thought I lost those memories a long time ago.”

You felt your eyes burn at his voice cracking. Yoongi never talked about his mother. There were only vulnerable moments in the dead of night when Yoongi couldn’t sleep. That was the first time he ever mentioned her. The first time she saw tears in his eyes. “We’ll get it back. No matter what, I promise.” That promise engraved in your mind.

***

The next morning, you rose in nothing but your champagne silk robe and sat at your study. Handwriting letters until your fountain pen emptied of ink and the steaming black coffee turned tepid. Park Jimin held the Kim familys’ prized jade bracelet and Namjoon held the Min Familys’ diamond gun. Clearly, the scandal spread further than the two gangs but your current priority is ensuring a war won’t break out between Namjoon and Yoongi.

Jimins’ death would also result in only chaos.

Gold sunlight gleamed through the white transparent curtains, beaming rays reflecting against the dark mahogany of the study table. Despite the mess in your brain, the morning itself was peaceful. You made sure Yoongi slept a few hours longer than normal so his daily alarm had been temporarily disabled.

Everytime he drowned in his emotions, Yoongi worked himself to the bone as if to make up for his vulnerability. You knew that would only taint the progress they had so far on the investigation.

You sent the letters out through different messengers. They will be followed through an underground trail until it finally reached the two gang leaders. Cupping your now hot cup of coffee, you let out a deep breath, emptying your lungs of the stress as you looked out the painted window of your study.

There was still time left to relax before they started work. Giving the empty cup to a maid, you walked back up to your bedroom.

Yoongi stirred underneath the white, cotton sheets. Bars of gold light shining down his pale skin through the blinds and a cool air kissed your flesh.

Door locked, you padded closer and gently climbed onto the bed. Yoongi draped a tattooed arm over your waist with a drawling hum under his breath.

“Where’d you go?” His voice vibrated through the fabric of the bed, cheek pressed against the pillow and raven hair covered his eyes.

“I sent letters out to the leaders for a meeting.” You kept your voice soft, caressing the dog silhouette on his arm.

Yoongi groaned in annoyance. “I really don’t wanna talk to that asshole. Can’t we do it another time?”

“The most important thing in the world to you has been taken. This is the meeting that’s going to help you get it and you’re going to back down?”

Yoongi rubbed his face before staring at you. “The most important thing in the world to me is lying down right here.”

You smiled, fingers tracing his chest. “The second most important then.”

“That’ll be our dogs.”

You chuckled. “Darling, you know you want it back. This is also going to prevent any brawl between Jimin and Namjoon.”

Yoongi hummed in agreement. In the moment of silence, he reached out and cupped your cheek. You leaned down and kissed him. You moved down, peppering kisses on his jawline and neck.

Yoongi let out a shaky sigh as your lips grazed his chest, gentle brushes against the tender skin where his prior wounds used to be. Trailing your tongue down his torso, the blanket slid off the edges of the bed.

Your hand reached down and gently cupped his crotch, earning a hiss from the man. Yoongi grabbed onto your hair, breaking the kiss so he could look at you. You graced him with a smile. Biting down your lips, you descended down his stomach. Slow pecks down his torso as your fingers hooked the hem of his boxers.

Pulling down the soft material, the tightening member sprung up, blushing at the tip. With another smile, you wrapped your lips around the tip and swallowed the length until it disappeared into your mouth. You closed your throat around his tip before pulling back. Yoongi hummed. Heat exuded from his body blocking out the cool breeze of the air conditioner, adrenaline seeping through his exhaustion.

Spit dribbled down your chin as you took his length again, bobbing you head. Your free hand wrapped around the base, squeezing until you heard a whine. Yoongi fisted the sheets and the other hand buried in your hair. Madness clouded his mind watching your head bouncing on him, drooling at the edges of your mouth and tears glossing your eyes.

Fire burning in the pit of his belly, he held onto both sides of your head and thrusted into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat making you whimper. He felt the tightness of his release just hearing the sound of your gagging. The way you obediently stayed still as he fucked your throat. Your panties felt heavy and hot with your arousal, desperately needing to be touched. One hand snuck under your robe, rubbing the soggy material.

Yoongi pulled his length out, enjoying the way you tried to catch your breath before staring up at him in tears. Pulling you back up, he flipped you both around until your body was bent over the soft bed, cheek pressed against the sheets. Pushing up your robe and pulling down your panties down to your knees, he positioned himself at your dripped entrance. Without another warning, he pushed himself in. The sheer squelch and stretch could’ve had you unraveling in seconds.

Vulnerabilities of the early morning had you dripping and softened to the slightest touch of ecstasy. Yoongi shared the same impatience as he fucked into you. Barely any remorse, arousal splattering at every thrust. Nectar dripped through the expensive sheets as the bed shifted from his movements. He grabbed your shoulder to push in deeper until the soft walls of your cervix hugged his tip.

Your moans and his heavy breathing melded together in a melody that reverberated throughout the bedroom. He nudged a thumb through your rim, pushing and hooking before pounding into you again. You fell full and overwhelmed, wanting to explode and fall apart.

You gripped onto the sheets until her nails dug into her own palms. Yoongi pushed your dress up further, caressing your back before smacking your bottom. Another whimper left your lips. He smacked it again.

Yoongi turned you around, lifting you onto his lap. Your back rested on the wood headboard as your arms wrapped around his neck. Sleeves of your robe drooped down your shoulders, barely hanging onto your body. Arousal squirted out of you making both of you laugh. Yoongi let out a blissful sigh as he quickened his pace. The headboard could’ve cracked from the pressure, breathing short and rapid like the speed of his thrusts. Lips latched on the curve of your neck as the pleasure trembled through you.

Before he could mutter anything, you felt the warm liquid burst inside you. Filling your womb until it spilled through the sheets. Yoongi snuck his hand between your legs, pushing you to the edge as your lips barely brushed against each other.

Bliss burst at the seams, ricocheting through every limb until your legs trembled, clasping tight around his hips. Yoongi kissed your jawline and your temple. “Fine.” He breathed out. “One meeting.”

You giggled as your breathing tried to catch up. “Good.”

next chap >> 

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | July 6-12th 2020

Complete

💙 The Necrofloranomicon by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)/ @leveragehunters​ (Magical Realism AU | 47K | Teen): Bucky didn't want much. Just to keep his head down, to sell his scavenged flowers in peace, and to stay off Shield's radar. His life would have been a lot easier if his flowers weren't dead and if being a necromancer wasn't illegal, but easy or not, he was getting by. Steve didn't want much, either. He was happy working for Shield, he had good friends, and overall his life was going just about the way he wanted it. Problem was, being happy with your life was generally an invitation for fate to throw a spanner in the works—and in Steve's specific case, it was going to be a spanner named Bucky. (A love story about flowers, trust, and magic and the choices we make about doing what's right.) (Part 1 of The Necrofloranomicon)

Bloom by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)/ @leveragehunters​ (Magical Realism AU | 5K | Teen): "You need a necromancer dealt with," Bucky said."Actually no." There was something in her voice Bucky wasn't used to hearing. Maybe surprise? He wasn't sure. "Shield has received a request for our necromancer," she said, and Bucky had no idea what that meant. Thankfully, she clarified. "Someone's asking for your help, Bucky."

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Tumblr Prompts, Chapter 5: it's a long shot by Deisderium/ @deisderium​ (Shrinkyclinks | 2,8K | Teen): ‘All my intel said you’re not meant to be back until next week and I’m sitting here using your flat as a sniper nest to kill a bad guy. This is awkward.’ 

we never had a shotgun shot in the dark by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (PWP, Captain America Bucky, SHIELD Agent Steve | 2,1K | Explicit): Captain Barnes and Agent Rogers have their own post-mission routine.

Table for two by SinpaiCasanova (Post-EG, PWP | 3,9K | Explicit): Bucky catches himself thinking it at least once a day since the battle for Earth in Wakanda–their last fight together–ended a little over a year ago. Though despite the passage of time and how frequently their circumstances change, like the love they share for each other, it’s the one thing that’s always maintained its truth. Retirement looks fucking good on Steve.

💙 hit me baby one more time by Deisderium/ @deisderium​ (Assassins Bucky & Steve | 10K | Teen): In which two hitmen discover, against all rational thought, that they have feelings for each other.

Find Our Way by leavinghope (Modern AU, Coworkers | 7K | Teen): Bucky Barnes had a best friend, a fulfilling career, and a good life all on his own. But maybe, just maybe, there was room in his life for a partner? And maybe that partner could be Steve Rogers.

WIP

Tender is the Ghost by Hark_bananas/ @harkbananas​ (Post-WS | 3/12 | 36K | Explicit): This thought is uncontrollably followed by another one: I’m not alone anymore. He looks over his shoulder, through the kitchen door, to where Bucky is sitting at his usual place at the head of the dining table, and he feels an unconstrainable smile breaking out across his face, the barest hint of threatening tears along its bright edge. Bucky is still looking past Steve’s left ear, but slowly, gingerly, one side of his mouth quirks up. Steve feels giddy, he wants to shout, or faint, or something to relieve the carbonated pressure that is bubbling up inside of him. Instead, he laughs, short and cheerful, and opens the oven door. (Part 2 of Tender is the Ghost)

💙 A Matter of Trust by chicklette/ @chicklette​ (Singer Bucky, Fake relationship | 10/13 | 42K | Explicit): At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top. Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

💙 four dreams in a row where you were burned by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (canon divergent, post-Endgame, 1945 alternate timeline | 11/? | 65K | Mature): When Steve uses the last of his Pym Particles to travel to 1944 and save his best friend, he doesn’t have a plan beyond leaving behind the battlefield and living his life alongside the people he loves. But the life that finds him is not the one he expects.

A Call to Motion by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel​ (Uni AU | 1/? | 7,7K | Explicit): He was a jock, he did ballet, what more can I say? (aka: Steve's football coach sends him to learn ballet to improve his game, Bucky is the dance TA tasked with teaching him).

[timeless-hollywood-classics]

Margaret Brooke Sullavan (May 16, 1909 – January 1, 1960) was an American actress of stage and film.

Sullavan began her career onstage in 1929. In 1933 she caught the attention of movie director John M. Stahl and had her debut on the screen that same year in Only Yesterday.

Sullavan preferred working on the stage and made only 16 movies, four of which were opposite James Stewart in a popular partnership that included The Mortal Storm and The Shop Around the Corner. She was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress for her performance in Three Comrades (1938). She retired from the screen in the early 1940s, but returned in 1950 to make her last film, No Sad Songs for Me, in which she played a woman who was dying of cancer. For the rest of her career she would appear only on the stage.

Sullavan experienced increasing hearing problems, depression, and mental frailty in the 1950s. She died of an overdose of barbiturates, which was ruled accidental, on January 1, 1960, at the age of 50.

Sullavan was born in Norfolk, Virginia, the daughter of a wealthy stockbroker, Cornelius Sullavan, and his wife, Garland Councill Sullavan. She had a younger brother, Cornelius, and a half-sister, Louise Gregory. The first years of her childhood were spent isolated from other children. She suffered from a painful muscular weakness in the legs that prevented her from walking, so that she was unable to socialize with other children until the age of six. After her recovery she emerged as an adventurous and tomboyish child who preferred playing with the children from the poorer neighborhood, much to the disapproval of her class-conscious parents.

She attended boarding school at Chatham Episcopal Institute (now Chatham Hall), where she was president of the student body and delivered the salutatory oration in 1927. She moved to Boston and lived with her half-sister, Weedie, while she studied dance at the Boston Denishawn studio and (against her parents' wishes) drama at the Copley Theatre. When her parents cut her allowance to a minimum, Sullavan defiantly paid her way by working as a clerk in the Harvard Cooperative Bookstore (The Coop), located in Harvard Square, Cambridge.

Sullavan succeeded in getting a chorus part in the Harvard Dramatic Society 1929 spring production Close Up, a musical written by Harvard senior Bernard Hanighen, who was later a composer for Broadway and Hollywood.

The President of the Harvard Dramatic Society, Charles Leatherbee, along with the President of Princeton's Theatre Intime, Bretaigne Windust, who together had established the University Players on Cape Cod the summer before, persuaded Sullavan to join them for their second summer season. Another member of the University Players was Henry Fonda, who had the comic lead in Close Up.

In the summer of 1929 Sullavan appeared opposite Fonda in The Devil in the Cheese, her debut on the professional stage. She returned for most of the University Players' 1930 season. In 1931, she squeezed in one production with the University Players between the closing of the Broadway production of A Modern Virgin in July and its tour in September. She rejoined the University Players for most of their 18-week 1930–31 winter season in Baltimore.

Sullavan's parents did not approve of her choice of career. She played the lead in Strictly Dishonorable (1930) by Preston Sturges, which her parents attended. Confronted with her evident talent, their objections ceased. "To my deep relief", Sullavan later recalled. "I thought I'd have to put up with their yappings on the subject forever."

A Shubert scout saw her in that play as well and eventually she met Lee Shubert himself. At the time, Sullavan was suffering from a bad case of laryngitis and her voice was huskier than usual. Shubert loved it. In subsequent years Sullavan would joke that she cultivated that "laryngitis" into a permanent hoarseness by standing in every available draft.

Sullavan made her debut on Broadway in A Modern Virgin (a comedy by Elmer Harris), on May 20, 1931.

At one point in 1932 she starred in four Broadway flops in a row (If Love Were All, Happy Landing, Chrysalis (with Humphrey Bogart) and Bad Manners), but the critics praised Sullavan for her performances in all of them. In March 1933, Sullavan replaced another actor in Dinner at Eight in New York. Movie director John M. Stahl happened to be watching the play and was intrigued by Sullavan. He decided she would be perfect for a picture he was planning, Only Yesterday.

At that time Sullavan had already turned down offers for five-year contracts from Paramount and Columbia. Sullavan was offered a three-year, two-pictures-a-year contract at $1,200 a week. She accepted it and had a clause put in her contract that allowed her to return to the stage on occasion. Later on in her career, Sullavan would sign only short-term contracts because she did not want to be "owned" by any studio.

Sullavan arrived in Hollywood on May 16, 1933, her 24th birthday. Her film debut came that same year in Only Yesterday. She chose her scripts carefully. She was dissatisfied with her performance in Only Yesterday. When she saw herself in the early rushes, she was so appalled that she tried to buy out her contract for $2,500, but Universal refused.

In his November 10, 1933, review in The New York Herald Tribune, Richard Watts, Jr. wrote that Sullavan "plays the tragic and lovelorn heroine of this shrewdly sentimental orgy with such forthright sympathy, wise reticence and honest feeling that she establishes herself with some definiteness as one of the cinema people to be watched".[11] She followed that role with one in Little Man, What Now? (1934), about a couple struggling to survive in impoverished post–World War I Germany.

Originally, Universal was reluctant to make a movie about unemployment, starvation and homelessness, but Little Man was an important project to Sullavan. After Only Yesterday she wanted to try "the real thing". She later said that it was one of the few things she did in Hollywood that gave her a great measure of satisfaction. The Good Fairy (1935) was a comedy that Sullavan chose to illustrate her versatility. During the production, she married its director, William Wyler.

King Vidor's So Red the Rose (1935) dealt with people in the South in the aftermath of the Civil War. It preceded by one year the publication of Margaret Mitchell's bestselling novel Gone With the Wind, and the novel's film adaptation by four years; the latter became a blockbuster. Sullavan played a childish Southern belle who matures into a responsible woman. The film also dealt with the situation of characters who were freed black slaves.

In Next Time We Love (1936), Sullavan plays opposite the then-unknown James Stewart. She had been campaigning for Stewart to be her leading man and the studio complied for fear that she would stage a threatened strike. The film dealt with a married couple who had grown apart over the years. The plot was unconvincing and simple, but the gentle interplay between Sullavan and Stewart saves the movie from being a soapy and sappy experience. Next Time We Love was the first of four films made by Sullavan and Stewart.

In the comedy The Moon's Our Home (1936), Sullavan played opposite her ex-husband Henry Fonda. The original script was rather pallid, and Dorothy Parker and Alan Campbell were brought in to punch up the dialogue, reportedly at Sullavan's insistence. Sullavan and Fonda play a newly married couple, and the movie is a cavalcade of insults and quips. Her seventh film, Three Comrades (1938), is a drama set in post–World War I Germany. Three returning German soldiers meet Sullavan who joins them and eventually marries one of them. She gained an Oscar nomination for her role and was named the year's best actress by the New York Film Critics Circle.

Sullavan reunited with Stewart in The Shopworn Angel (1938). Stewart played a sweet, naive Texan soldier on his way to Europe (World War I) who marries Sullavan on the way. Her ninth film was the rather soapy The Shining Hour (1938), playing the suicidal sister-in-law to Joan Crawford. In The Shop Around the Corner (1940), Sullavan and Stewart worked together again, playing colleagues who do not get along at work, but have both responded to a lonely-hearts ad and are (without knowing it) exchanging letters with each other.

The Mortal Storm (1940) was the last movie Sullavan and Stewart did together. Sullavan played a young German girl engaged in 1933 to a confirmed Nazi (Robert Young). When she realizes the true nature of his political views, she breaks the engagement and turns her attention to anti-Nazi Stewart. Later, trying to flee the Nazi regime, Sullavan and Stewart attempt to ski across the border to safety in Austria. Sullavan is gunned down by the Nazis (under orders from her ex-fiance). Stewart, at her request, picks up the dying Sullavan and takes her by skis into Austria, so she can die in what was still a free country.

Back Street (1941) was lauded as one of the best performances of Sullavan's Hollywood career. She wanted Charles Boyer to play opposite her so much that she agreed to surrender top billing to him. Boyer plays a selfish and married banker and Sullavan his long-suffering mistress. Although he loves Sullavan, he is unwilling to leave his wife and family in favour of her. So Ends Our Night (1941) was another wartime drama. Sullavan (on loan for a one-picture deal from Universal) plays a Jewish girl perpetually on the move with falsified passport and identification papers and always fearing that the officials will discover her. On her way across Europe, she meets up with a young Jewish man (Glenn Ford) and the two fall in love.

A 1940 court decision obligated Sullavan to fulfill her original 1933 agreement with Universal, requiring her to make two more films for them. Back Street (1941) came first. The light comedy, Appointment for Love (1941), was Sullavan's last picture with that company. In the film, Sullavan appeared with Boyer again. Boyer's character marries Sullavan, who tells him that his past affairs mean nothing to her. She insists that each must have an apartment in the same building and that they meet only once a day, at seven o'clock in the morning.

Cry 'Havoc' (1943) is a World War II drama and a rare all-female film. Sullavan played the strong mother figure who keeps a crew of nurses in line in a dugout in Bataan, while they are awaiting the advance of Japanese soldiers who are about to take over. It was the last film Sullavan made with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. After its completion, she was free of all film commitments. She had often referred to MGM and Universal as "jails". When her husband, Leland Hayward, tried to read her the good reviews of Cry 'Havoc', she responded with usual bluntness: "You read them, use them for toilet paper. I had enough hell with that damned picture while making it – I don't want to read about it now!"

Sullavan's co-starring roles with James Stewart are among the highlights of their early careers. In 1935, Sullavan had decided on doing Next Time We Love. She had strong reservations about the story, but had to "work off the damned contract". The script contained a role she thought might be ideal for Stewart, who was best friends with Sullavan's first husband, actor Henry Fonda. Years earlier, during a casual conversation with some fellow actors on Broadway, Sullavan predicted Stewart would become a major Hollywood star.

By 1936, Stewart was a contract player at MGM but getting only small parts in B-movies. At that time Sullavan worked for Universal and when she brought up Stewart's name, they were puzzled. The Universal casting people had never heard of him. At Sullavan's suggestion Universal agreed to test him for her leading man and eventually he was borrowed from a willing MGM to star with Sullavan in Next Time We Love.

Stewart had been nervous and unsure of himself during the early stages of production. At that time he had only had two minor MGM parts which had not given him much camera experience. The director, Edward H. Griffith, began bullying Stewart. "Maggie, he's wet behind the ears," Griffith told Sullavan. "He's going to make a mess of things."

She believed in Stewart and spent evenings coaching him and helping him scale down his awkward mannerisms and hesitant speech that were soon to be famous around the world. "It was Margaret Sullavan who made James Stewart a star," director Griffith later said. "And she did, too," Bill Grady from MGM agreed. "That boy came back from Universal so changed I hardly recognized him." Gossip in Hollywood at that time (1935–36) was that William Wyler, Sullavan's then-husband, was suspicious about his wife's and Stewart's private rehearsing together.

When Sullavan divorced Wyler in 1936 and married Leland Hayward that same year, they moved to a colonial house just a block down from Stewart.[22] Stewart's frequent visits to the Sullavan/Hayward home soon restoked the rumors of his romantic feelings for Sullavan. Sullavan and Stewart's second movie together was The Shopworn Angel (1938). "Why, they're red-hot when they get in front of a camera," Louis B. Mayer said about their onscreen chemistry. "I don't know what the hell it is, but it sure jumps off the screen."

Walter Pidgeon, who was part of the triangle in The Shopworn Angel later recalled: "I really felt like the odd-man-out in that one. It was really all Jimmy and Maggie ... It was so obvious he was in love with her. He came absolutely alive in his scenes with her, playing with a conviction and a sincerity I never knew him to summon away from her." Eventually the duo made four movies together between 1936 and 1940 (Next Time We Love, The Shopworn Angel, The Shop Around the Corner, and The Mortal Storm).

Sullavan took a break from films from 1943-50. Throughout her career, Sullavan seemed to prefer the stage to the movies. She felt that only on the stage could she improve her skills as an actor. "When I really learn to act, I may take what I have learned back to Hollywood and display it on the screen", she said in an interview in October 1936 (when she was doing Stage Door on Broadway between movies). "But as long as the flesh-and-blood theatre will have me, it is to the flesh-and-blood theatre I'll belong. I really am stage-struck. And if that be treason, Hollywood will have to make the most of it".

Another reason for her early retirement from the screen (1943) was that she wanted to spend more time with her children, Brooke, Bridget and Bill (then 6, 4 and 2 years old). She felt that she had been neglecting them and felt guilty about it.[25] Sullavan would still do stage work on occasion. From 1943–44 she played the sexually inexperienced but curious Sally Middleton in The Voice of the Turtle (by John Van Druten) on Broadway and later in London (1947). After her short return to the screen in 1950 with No Sad Songs for Me, she did not return to the stage until 1952.

Her choice then was as the suicidal Hester Collyer, who meets a fellow sufferer, Mr. Miller (played by Herbert Berghof), in Terence Rattigan's The Deep Blue Sea. In 1953 she agreed to appear in Sabrina Fair by Samuel Taylor.

She came back to the screen in 1950 to do one last picture, No Sad Songs for Me. She played a suburban housewife and mother who learns that she will die of cancer within a year and who then determines to find a "second" wife for her soon-to-be-widower husband (Wendell Corey). Natalie Wood, then eleven, plays their daughter.

After No Sad Songs for Me and its favorable reviews, Sullavan had a number of offers for other films, but she decided to concentrate on the stage for the rest of her career.

In 1955–56 Sullavan appeared in Janus, a comedy by playwright Carolyn Green. Sullavan played the part of Jessica who writes under the pen name Janus, and Robert Preston played her husband. The play ran for 251 performances from November 1955 to June 1956.

In the late 1950s Sullavan's hearing and depression were getting worse. However, in 1959 she agreed to do Sweet Love Remembered by playwright Ruth Goetz. It was to be Sullavan's first Broadway appearance in four years. Rehearsals began on December 1, 1959. She had mixed emotions about a return to acting and her depression soon became clear to everyone: "I loathe acting", she said on the very day she started rehearsals. "I loathe what it does to my life. It cancels you out. You cannot live while you are working. You are a person surrounded by an unbreachable wall".

On December 18, 1955, Sullavan appeared as the mystery guest on the TV panel show What's My Line?.

Sullavan had a reputation for being both temperamental and straightforward. On one occasion Henry Fonda had decided to take up a collection for a 4th of July fireworks display. After Sullavan refused to make a contribution, Fonda complained loudly to a fellow actor. Then Sullavan rose from her seat and doused Fonda from head to foot with a pitcher of ice water. Fonda made a stately exit, and Sullavan, composed and unconcerned, returned to her table and ate heartily. Another of her blowups almost killed Sam Wood, one of the founders of the Motion Picture Alliance. Wood was a keen anti-Communist. He dropped dead from a heart attack shortly after a raging argument with Sullavan, who had refused to fire a writer on a proposed film on account of his left-wing views. Louis B. Mayer always seemed wary and nervous in her presence. "She was the only player who outbullied Mayer", Eddie Mannix of MGM later said of Sullavan. "She gave him the willies".

Sullavan was married four times. She married actor Henry Fonda on December 25, 1931, while both were performing with the University Players in its 18-week winter season in Baltimore at the Congress Hotel Ballroom on West Franklin Street near North Howard St. Sullavan and Fonda separated after two months and divorced in 1933.

After separating from Fonda, Sullavan began a relationship with Broadway producer Jed Harris. She later began a relationship with William Wyler, the director of her next movie, The Good Fairy (1935). They were married in November 1934, and divorced in March 1936.

Sullavan's third marriage was to agent and producer Leland Hayward. Hayward had been Sullavan's agent since 1931. They married on November 15, 1936. At the time of the marriage, Sullavan was pregnant with the couple's first child. Their daughter, Brooke, was born in 1937 and later became an actress. The couple had two more children, Bridget (1939 – October 17, 1960) and William III "Bill" (1941–2008), who became a film producer and attorney. In 1947, Sullavan filed for divorce after discovering that Hayward was having an affair with socialite Slim Keith. Their divorce became final on April 20, 1948.

In 1950, Sullavan married for a fourth and final time to English investment banker Kenneth Wagg. They remained married until her death in 1960.

Sullavan’s children, in particular Bridget and Bill, often proved rebellious and contrary. As a result of the divorce from Hayward, the family fell apart. Sullavan felt that Hayward was trying to alienate their children from her. When the children went to California to visit their father they were so spoiled with expensive gifts that, when they returned to their mother in Connecticut, they were deeply discontented with what they saw as a staid lifestyle.

By 1955, when Sullavan's two younger children told their mother that they preferred to stay with their father permanently, she suffered a nervous breakdown. Sullavan's eldest daughter, Brooke, later wrote about the breakdown in her 1977 autobiography Haywire: Sullavan had humiliated herself by begging her son to stay with her. He remained adamant and his mother had started to cry. "This time she couldn't stop. Even from my room the sound was so painful I went into my bathroom and put my hands on my ears". In another scene from the book, a friend of the family (Millicent Osborne) had been alarmed by the sound of whimpering from the bedroom: "She walked in and found mother under the bed, huddled in a foetal position. Kenneth was trying to get her out. The more authoritative his tone of voice, the farther under she crawled. Millicent Osborne took him aside and urged him to speak gently, to let her stay there until she came out of her own accord". Eventually Sullavan agreed to spend some time (two and a half months) in a private mental institution. Her two younger children, Bridget and Bill, also spent time in various institutions. Bridget died of a drug overdose in October 1960, while Bill died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound in March 2008.

Sullavan suffered from the congenital hearing defect otosclerosis that worsened as she aged, making her more and more hearing impaired. Her voice had developed a throatiness because she could hear low tones better than high ones. From early 1957, Sullavan's hearing declined so much that she was becoming depressed and sleepless and often wandered about all night. She would often go to bed and stay there for days, her only words: "Just let me be, please". Sullavan had kept her hearing problem largely hidden. On January 8, 1960 (one week after Sullavan's death), The New York Post reporter Nancy Seely wrote: "The thunderous applause of a delighted audience—was it only a dim murmur over the years to Margaret Sullavan? Did the poised and confident mien of the beautiful actress mask a sick fear, night after night, that she'd miss an important cue?"

On January 1, 1960, at about 5:30 p.m., Sullavan was found in bed, barely alive and unconscious, in a hotel room in New Haven, Connecticut. Her copy of the script to Sweet Love Remembered, in which she was then starring during its tryout in New Haven, was found open beside her. Sullavan was rushed to Grace New Haven Hospital, but shortly after 6:00 p.m. she was pronounced dead on arrival.[38] She was 50 years old. No note was found to indicate suicide, and no conclusion was reached as to whether her death was the result of a deliberate or an accidental overdose of barbiturates. The county coroner officially ruled Sullavan's death an accidental overdose. After a private memorial service was held in Greenwich, Connecticut, Sullavan was interred at Saint Mary's Whitechapel Episcopal Churchyard in Lancaster, Virginia.

For her contribution to the motion picture industry, Margaret Sullavan has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame located at 1751 Vine Street. She was inducted, posthumously, into the American Theater Hall of Fame in 1981.

Sullavan's eldest daughter, actress Brooke Hayward, wrote Haywire, a best-selling memoir about her family, that was adapted into the miniseries Haywire that aired on CBS starring Lee Remick as Margaret Sullavan and Jason Robards as Leland Hayward.

[emjaybeeworld]

ADELAIDE AND OTTO (Part 1) A Mostly True Medieval Love Story

       As the duchess of Burgundy and daughter of the king of Burgundy, Adelaide, was the richest woman in Europe.  She was an intelligent, honorable, and breathtaking beauty, full of grace and confidence.  When she was two years old, Adelaide was promised in marriage to Lothaire, the son of an Italian house rival to her family’s claim on the throne of Italy.  Her parents and Lothaire’s parents were eager for the marriage because they hoped it would bring about peace between their two powerful families.  

       So it was that from childhood, the princess was groomed by her parents to be Lothaire’s wife.  Adelaide’s father received regular updates on Lothaire’s development and activities.  In turn, her father sent back reports on Adelaide’s development.  As they grew up, the two children came to know each other in spite of never having met. Adelaide dreamed of the handsome young man as she eagerly awaited the day of her marriage.  She blossomed into a stunning woman and, in spite of her betrothal, an endless stream of offers for the young girl’s hand in marriage were submitted to her parents. The king and queen of Burgundy would not entertain the idea of any other suitor.

       Adelaide and her brother Conrad were best friends, thick as little thieves.  When not in studies, they were carefree and mischievous children.  They played, chased each other and wrestled, fished, swam, rode horses, and shared their dreams and hopes with each other.  

       Like Adelaide, Conrad had a royal imperative to fulfill—he was destined to be the successor to the throne of Burgundy.  One day, their father announced that Conrad was going to Germany to foster under King Otto.  It was a great honor that a king so powerful and noble was willing to take Conrad under his tutelage.  No sooner was the announcement made, than Adelaide’s beloved brother was packed up and sent across the world.  King Otto was legendary since, for the first time in history, he had united all the great duchies of Germany under one government.  Not only was the entirety of Germany under his control, but he had also subdued troublesome Austria, Bavaria, and Suabia and put them under his rulership in order to quell their raids on Germany.

       Adelaide was heartbroken, all alone in an adult’s world, the remaining bits of her childhood gone.  Most of her waking hours were filled with learning royal etiquette, languages, reading, the sciences, arts, and mathematics.  The princess excelled at her studies; to her natural beauty and poise, she added graciousness, compassion, and kindness.

       Adelaide missed Conrad fiercely, writing letters daily.  Conrad, in turn, regaled her with his activities, difficult affairs of state, the fine nuances of royal life, and training as a military commander.  

       Adelaide begged her parents to visit Conrad.  She was sixteen and would be married soon.  Once she became the queen of Italy, she might never see her beloved brother again.  A time was arranged with the German king and Adelaide was sent off with full royal escort.

       Conrad rode out the gates and met her at a distance from the royal palace, so overjoyed was he to see his sister again.  Their reunion filled Adelaide’s heart with bliss.  Oh, how she had missed him!  Conrad told her that the German king had released him from most of his obligations during Adelaide’s visit so that they could spend every moment together.  She would be staying an entire month.  They laughed and teased each other, sharing all their hopes and dreams once again.

       That night they were served at the King’s table.  To honor her presence, the King’s closest counselors, captain of the guard, and his noble and most trusted knights attended.  Adelaide charmed the assembly with her dignity, sparkling wit, and striking loveliness.  Jostling for her attention threatened to separate her from Conrad.  It was only with the greatest difficulty that she stayed by his side.

       A hush gradually blanketed the room.  Adelaide looked up to search out the cause.  The king and queen had entered the room unannounced.  Those who had seen them bowed deeply.  The king, who surely must be Otto, stood a full head taller than anyone in the room.  Dark blue eyes shining like the stars at twilight caught and held hers.  Her heart stopped beating, air sucked from her lungs. All thought fled.  An unnatural quiet filled her ears.  

       From a child, she had been schooled to stifle her emotions with a gentle reserve.  Her parents said it would shield her from showing people her thoughts and give her an advantage.  Without thought, she called upon that schooling now even as the compelling blue gaze held hers.

       The golden-haired giant smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners; and, with his queen’s hand on his arm, the royal couple moved to Adelaide and Conrad. The queen was a lovely woman of quiet gentleness.  Adelaide curtsied deeply to the beautiful woman, prolonging the pose to calm her rioting pulse. Rising, she kissed the queen’s hand and relayed her parents’ greetings.  Turning to the king, she curtseyed as well, murmuring her gratitude for the royals’ hospitality.

       She barely heard the conversation at dinner, nodding and smiling, uttering an appropriate response when necessary.  In truth, she was overcome with shyness, her consciousness focused on the huge man at the head of the table.  His presence commanded attention.  He spoke equally familiarly to his friends and the Queen.  Adelaide had heard that the king was a mighty warrior; and seeing him, she had no doubt of that.  Dressed in casual knight attire, long sword at his hip, he was a man in the fittest of his prime.  Eadgyth, his queen, had worn a flowing, simple dress, with nothing but a crown adorning her head.  The regnant couple was clearly part of the close circle of companions and spoke with them as friends.

       Occasionally, Adelaide’s green eyes met shimmering blue eyes over dinner.  The queen would ask Adelaide a question, and blue eyes would intently track Adelaide’s intelligent and educated responses.  A hitherto unknown part of Adelaide’s soul fractured open, filling with awareness of another living being.

       After dinner, the queen excused herself and retired to her quarters.  Receiving permission from Conrad, Otto suggested a walk in his gardens with Adelaide. The young duchess was fluent in languages and conversed easily in German.  He dazzled her with his knowledge and experience.  As a man well versed in human nature, and as her brother’s mentor, the king effortlessly conversed with Adelaide.  He told Adelaide of his fondness for Conrad and appreciation for the young man’s character.  Conrad was a great favorite of his court, showing excellent leadership skills. Adelaide found it easy to speak with the king; she was happy to experience his new world and know that he was in good hands.

       Otto’s father had insisted on his marriage at 16.  He’d been presented with a choice between two sisters, both daughters of the king of England.  Everyone thought he’d choose the younger sister, but he chose the elder daughter who had accompanied the younger sister as chaperone.  Eadgyth had become the love of his youth.  

       Now, the king marvelled at Adelaide’s grace, was entertained by her wit, and ensnared by her loveliness.  He was fascinated by the young enchantress of presence so compelling it consumed those near her.  His servants competed to serve her.  His knights and counselors vied for her attention.  There was no one or anything at his court that did not fall under her spell. Even his dogs, traitorous things that they were, followed her around the castle as if they belonged to her. Impossibly, he wanted to be the one who made Adelaide smile, to bask in her presence, to have her stroke his face, pull his ears, and kiss his nose.  He was jealous of them all.

       The only sour note was his troubled nineteen-year-old son, Liuthold, who followed Adelaide around like a hound on a scent.  His demanding behavior was inappropriate, but Adelaide was adept at defusing him.  She was flawless in her interactions with the 19-year-old prince, frustrating his attempts to woo her.  Lute blamed her unattainability on bad timing or the interference of others.  Ah, Lute never seemed to understand that he was root of a problem.  His bouts of pouting and sulking were unconscionable.  Adelaide wasn’t for a man such as his son even had she been available.

       From the stunning moment that Otto first met Adelaide’s eyes across the room, he was determined she would be his.  Adelaide was an irresistible force.  She was a  breathtaking, a blond, green-eyed beauty with a figure a courtesan would envy.  She possessed a serenity and dignity well beyond her years.  Adelaide’s construct of diplomacy and intelligence was remarkable for one so young. He sensed that she was hiding behind her wall of unnatural reserve; never was she as outgoing with him as she was with her large group of admirers.  Unlike her interactions with Conrad, when she spoke to Otto, her words, although warm, were precisely spoken in a modulated voice, giving away nothing of herself.  She was far older than her sixteen years would indicate.  How could one so young be such a mystery?  

       Employing his considerable personal magnetism, he would break down those walls of hers and discover her secrets.  Then he would beguile her into a mutually beneficial arrangement with him.  It would be complicated as she was no peasant, nor was she poor.  There was nothing he could give her that she couldn’t give herself.  Otto would have to be careful in his relationship with Conrad, and Adelaide’s betrothal to Lothaire was touchy, but he’d not let those interfere with his plans.

       The young duchess often attended his open courts to observe the administration of his laws.  His brilliant administration of government and broad experience awed her young mind. When she was in attendance, the king seated Conrad with him to judge disputes.  Adelaide was astounded by the maturity and wisdom of her brother.  He was only two years older than she, yet he already had the bearing of a seasoned and wise king.

       Occasionally, Otto would surprise her as she watched him. In those moments, he would ensnare her gaze and force her to meet his eyes.  She would seem momentarily responsive, but then shutter herself and look away.  A slight flush would creep up her neck and she would not look back.  Always, she would leave the room shortly thereafter. It was the only weakness Otto could find; and even with that, he grasped at straws.

       Ever an observer of humanity, Otto realized in speechless amazement that Adelaide had used the same avoidance techniques with him that she did with Lute.  He was a master negotiator, manipulating hostile personalities, creating compromise where there was none. To be as successful as he, a deep understanding of human nature was necessary.  He had that gift in spades, but he’d completely missed her aversion strategy so good was she at handling people.  He should have recognized it sooner, but the cheeky little chit had really put one over on him.  He would never underestimate Adelaide’s sophistication and powers of observation again. Now that he knew what she was doing, he’d use the knowledge and beat her at her own game.

[beneathshadowsrp]

DIANNA ARMSTRONG

FACECLAIM: KATEY SAGAL AGE: 53 SPECIES: WEREWOLF OCCUPATION: Dispatch at the Police Station ARRIVED: January 17th, 1965 DECLARED

“THE MATRIARCH”

tw: child molestation, murder, gore, death

Dianna Anne Gibson was born an average girl with an average name. Her father worked an average blue-collar job and her mom an average woman working part-time. On the outside, they were just an average, boring family. Bill and Maeve Gibson looked homely, were rooted in tradition, and their line dated back to the war when their family sided with Amos Chesterfield during the Supernatural Civil Wars. Ever since then, the Gibsons remained loyal to the Armstrong lineage, serving faithfully as Betas with each generation. They took great pride in this, given it was the only thing significant with the Gibson name tied to it. They didn’t have much, Pa always got the shit-end of the stick at work. He was accused of theft, of sexual harassment, anything that would put a known werewolf out of work and away from other humans. Ma worked in domestics, cleaning homes, elder care when the work came, sometimes watched the kids of humans. Without the Armstrong pack, the Gibsons were just another sad story of the oppressed, uneducated supernaturals in Shadow Falls.

When Dianna was in her teens, she started to spend more time with the pack. Bill wanted her to get closer to Atticus, the heir to the Armstrong Alpha throne. He was a few years ahead of her in school, but Bill wanted them to trigger their curses in the same batch. Four werewolves in the Armstrong pack killed that night, triggering their curses to become full-fledged members of the group that raised them. Dianna was the youngest, forced to kill at fifteen while the others were eighteen or a little older. She killed two men, whose names she would never forget: Lyle Randall and Fenrir Graaff. Atticus had found them-- the two were leaders of the local Eagle Scouts troop, but had been abusing their power with the little boys entrusted upon them. He had found photos the men kept as proof, newspaper clippings that suspiciously aligned with outings the men had planned. They were always each other’s alibi. Atticus knew that if Dianna was to trigger her curse, it was better to wipe out people who were better off gone. And he was right. Dianna was charged and fired up to avenge the boys who didn’t have a voice, and with Atticus, the scout leaders were no longer part of this world. It was that night, Dianna knew in her gut Atticus would be a good and noble alpha. It was that night, Atticus noticed the mystery in Dianna’s pretty eyes, the ferocity she could show when it came to protecting the weak. He was impressed she was so young, but was so brave. That she didn’t hesitate when it came to doing the just thing, the thing that was also right for the pack. They both told their fathers about the other, and soon, they were arranged.

Dianna truly admired Atticus. He was handsome, a little older to seem mature and cool, but not old to feel preyed upon. He was good to her, he was romantic, and most importantly (to her father) he would be Alpha, which would officially merge the average Gibson line with the noble Armstrong line. The Gibsons would no longer be nothing, they would no longer be average. She was chosen not because she was beautiful-- she was rather a plain girl and knew it. She had nice eyes, but no one really gave her a second thought. She wasn’t chosen because of her status-- there were other daughters of Betas in the pack that Atticus could have taken for a wife. She was chosen because time and time again, she proved she was brave. She wasn’t afraid to get dirty, she didn’t flinch at gore, she didn’t complain about the painful shifts. Her chin was up, eyes focused, and her heart always set on what the right thing for the pack was. When she was eighteen, she finally married Atticus Armstrong and took his last name. Years later, after they welcomed their only son and child into the world, Atticus put his father to rest and assumed his title. Dianna remained strong by his side, organizing the pack with him, taking hands-on roles with the wolves during full moons or troubling times. But as the years wore on, no matter how devoted Atticus was to the pack, she knew his devotion for her wavered. He was out later at nights, sometimes even gone for days at a time. She knew he would never leave the pack, and act as though she expected him to take these ‘surprise trips’ and lie and say she knew about them all along. She would call pack members to see if he was where he said he’d be, and he never was. But she held her tongue. She wasn’t a wife, she was a partner. She gave him an heir to instill the sacred pack traditions, she gave him support when he needed it as an Alpha. Her marriage woes were pitiful in comparison to the people and families they had to command. Mentioning them would disrupt the peace in the pack and make the Armstrong line look weak.

This went on for years. Dianna watched her son James grow up, proud that he was the product Atticus paid for. She loved her son, he was her only true family in that house, and found she shared the worry mothers of soldiers shared. As an Alpha, James would have a target on his back. There would be wolves after his title, there was a government that didn’t honor or respect his kind, and there were hunters and religious extremists in town. But he grew up strong and reminded Dianna so much of herself: strong because she had to be, because that was the expectation and that was the only option. Her son was thrust into the role of Alpha much sooner than anyone had anticipated. Atticus returned home from another ‘trip,’ this time, in a trunk. James had been the one to open the trunk and find him first: shredded remains of the once-mighty Alpha, soaking through the velvet material that lined the trunk. A decapitated head rested on top, eyes open and rolled back in a grotesque, unfocused glare. Jaw hung open, tongue black. Gaping in horror and some sort of macabre ecstasy. Dianna collapsed. She didn’t understand. Was she screaming? Was she shaking? Her ears blocked words out, blocked sounds out, blocked the frantic and trembled, broken cries that ripped out of her chest. She knew he was a philanderer, but at the end of the day, Atticus was good. He was an Alpha, the alpha that taught her she could be brave in the face of evil. That she could be brave when facing herself, her heritage, even if it meant she had to kill to make her family proud and to be accepted. He gave her the best thing in her life, their son. He wasn’t a good husband, but he was a friend. He had been a guide into the world their parents, their grandparents, built. He didn’t deserve this. He was supposed to die old, after they confronted his infidelities when she would smile and tell him it was okay, that she understood they weren’t soulmates. They would live quiet, discrete. He would die honorably, at the hands of his son like his father before him, in a ritual to pass down the Alpha lineage peacefully. This was the jarring, grotesque opposite.

She later would find out that his murderer was a jealous vampire. That Atticus had been engaging in an affair with a married vampire woman, been discovered by her jealous husband, and paid the ultimate price. James and the Betas went after the woman and man, avenging Atticus, while Dianna sat numb in the living room, staring at the few photos displayed in their home. A stoic family portrait in a small frame above the fireplace. A wedding photo of them barefoot in the woods. James as a baby, in Atticus’ arms with Dianna smiling. The perfect life she claimed to have when scrutinized about Atticus’ whereabouts, the cohesive family that blended so well they seemed almost like a sitcom family, was a lie. She had lied for him when he lied to her. Now James saw the brutal truth of his dad, and Dianna had to confront what she’d been pushing aside her entire marriage. Life eventually found its normalcy in new routines, as it usually did. James fit the role as alpha, with his own Betas and with Dianna offering help when she could. James had allowed her to step down, retire, but still be a pack member. He wanted to respect his mother’s grief and honor how much she had served the pack. When James came to her asking for her wedding ring, she finally felt life was entering a new chapter: There was hope. James would not make the mistake Atticus did, and his beloved Kelsie was a good fit. Dianna knew her story and knew the girl was strong, fierce, but kind and fair. The kind of woman Dianna had been when she married Atticus. But they would not repeat those mistakes. The pack would be alive with new life, new love, and hope for a brighter future. Dianna welcomed these new changes.

Then the Halloween Event of 2018 happened. James was murdered by an unknown assailant, the hows and whys never touched once by the police. The new chapter she thought she was entering turned out to be the end of a book. Dianna had lost all of her family, her only child and her hope that the world can be a better place. She has nothing to lose, years of wisdom and experience, and deep beneath all of those scars, that fighter is still strong in her.

-BEHIND THE CURTAIN-

Dianna was a tomboy when she was younger and grew up tough. She was always a realistic, down-to-earth, and a good blend of of a hard-ass and someone you could trust no matter what. She’s extremely loyal, but her loyalty will lead her to lie for those she loves, to be dishonest, or to prioritize some people over others. She has a good perception of what’s right and wrong, but nowadays, she operates under the guise that the world is a complicated place. There are people out there who want to take. There are merciless people. She’s protective to her core and without family, she feels a bit lost. The only title that really mattered to her was mother, and with no son, what is she?  She also can rage like a tempest. That’s the mother bear in her. Ever since James’ murder and disappearance, she’s been raising hell with the local politicians, reaching out to supernatural rights groups, and harassing her coworkers at the police station to do something about her missing son. She was raised in a unjust world with a sense of justice, and she won’t stop until things are set right.