#the comrade died days later

[mansnooziesmoosmutzel]

[sprout-fics]

First Day of the Rest of Your Life

(TF141 & Reader Old Guard AU)

Call of Duty Masterlist

Rating: 16+ Wordcount: 4k Tags: Old Guard AU, Immortals AU, Newly Immortal Reader, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Open Ending, Rescue Missions, Shadow Company, Major Character Death (non permanent) Warnings: Forced Drugging, Character Death (and revival) A/N: A silly little idea that I won't be continuing, but others are free to build off of

They’re not known by anyone but themselves.

Things like them shouldn’t exist. It goes against all laws of nature, to rise from dirt and to return. Yet somehow, the men you come to meet defy death itself, unable to be killed, to die a death that lasts long and forever.

And…

You come to realize you’re just like them.

But first, you have to die.

A “Shadow”, you’re called. One of many, under the authority of Commander Phillip Graves and his company. It’s a reluctant job, one that you took with little other option to settle old debts and to escape from a life that haunts you even now. Even so, you share a camaraderie with the men and women around you, bonds forged under mortar fire and bullet wounds.

Graves himself takes you under his wing, reluctant as you are, makes a point to check on you after missions, to tease you when he can, needling you and trying to make you roll your eyes at him. He likes getting under your skin, cracking jokes so your mouth twitches up as you suppress a smile. It’s hard not to like him with his charisma, but you can’t even shake the little bit of guardedness that remains ever present when you’re around him. You’re not friends, but you certainly aren’t enemies either. Comrades, perhaps.

That changes when you die.

You’re supporting SAS forces in their hunt for a known AQ leader, in a remote village, when your squad is ambushed. The desert sun bores down harshly on you all, and you find yourself squinting upwards when the first shot echoes out.

Graves is not far behind you as bullets begin to rain down on your position, leaning into his comms and barking orders. His eyes are focused with trained intent, finger on the trigger of his weapon, and when you catch his eyes he shoots you a wild grin.

You spot something out of the corner of your eye as you return fire- a woman and a child, hidden behind a low wall as she tries to cover him from the firefight. Her eyes are different. Scared, full of tears, her shoulders tight as he holds back her cries.

You shout for cover, instantly on your feet moving and diving for the pair. You shield her as you aid them both to safety, only for one of your squad to shout for you a moment too late.

The bullet goes straight through your heart.

You fall forward into the arid earth, watching the woman and her son be quickly escorted to shelter. The pang of relief you feel is stifled by the agony that laces through your veins, wet and viscous and much too warm. As you gasp, dying and bleeding out, the last thing you see is Graves’ face hovering over yours, steely and grim as your life gushes out onto his hands.

“Breathe, darlin’, breathe.”

You can’t. With every pulse of your heart you feel the sickening ooze of red spill from the gap in your chest. You wheeze, try to speak, but it’s too late. You hear him call for you as you go under, and your last thought is that you wish just had more time.

There’s a flash of something then- brief and vague, like the shimmering outline on the horizon. Four figures standing tall, turning to gaze at you before it all goes dark.

You wake up in the infirmary an hour or so later. Staring up at the medical tent and trying to process the fact that you’re alive.

Remarkably, you feel…fine? 

A hand smooths over your chest, and you find no bullet hole at all. No gaping wound where your life force bled out of you. Perfectly healed. 

It doesn’t make any sense, and you try to reconcile the sudden, agonizing pain and darkness with your unscathed state. You died. There’s no way you should be alive right now, much less without a horrible, life altering injury.

Graves pushes aside the tent flap and paces to your bedside with long strides. You expect him to look relieved, to smile and offer a joke to cover his concern. Instead, he appears guarded, cautious, like he no longer trusts you.

You flinch.

Graves watches you with wary eyes, and when you ask him if perhaps you dreamt it he doesn’t show any indication of shock. Instead, he crowds closer, gets in your personal space, and asks you what you remember. You tell him. You died…and then…and then…

Nothing.

This doesn’t satisfy him, and you can tell by the harsh light in his eyes. He smiles anyways, but you feel something curl in your stomach at the fact that it feels so sinister. Graves pats your shoulder and tells you to rest up, offers a little murmur of relief that doesn’t reach your ears.

You’re too busy looking at his eyes.

On his way out of the infirmary, Graves whispers something to the medic, who pales and tries to protest. Yet then Graves goes icy cold, and you feel a shiver run up your spine. He vanishes after that, and after a moment the medic appears with a syringe. 

“This should help with the pain.” He offers with a wobbly smile. 

“But…I’m not in pain.” You offer, brow knotted in confusion, but before you can offer anything else he holds out your arm and presses the needle to the inside of your elbow with practiced ease.

“W-wait-”

You look at the medic in confusion as he pulls back, and somehow when he presses on your shoulder you go flat on the bed with sluggish limbs. 

“What-” You try, feeling something dark and liquid descend over your senses slowly. 

“I’m sorry.” He offers, face pinched. “Please don’t die.”

You grab at him then, recognizing the injection too late for what it is, a lethal dose. You try to raise your voice, try to beg, but the soldier above you hushes you, murmurs apologies even as the newly familiar grip of death settles over you. 

…And then, you wake up again

This time, however, you’re restrained. Your arms are above your head, shackled to the metal bars of the infirmary cot. There’s a dull ache that colors your senses, and when you try to raise your hand to rub at your head you find it immobile. Panic instantly rises within you, doubled by your prone position. 

As you panic and struggle Graves appears and hovers over your bedside

“Feel like talkin now, soldier?” He asks, gaze cold.

He had you killed, you realize. He sent the medic to drug you, to test this newfound ability of yours to come back after apparent death. Now, he has you trapped under his mercy, eyes dark as he scrutinizes your restrained form.

You try to tell him you don’t know, you don’t understand, but you know he doesn’t believe you. Even after your babbling protests and attempts to explain, he remains unmoved.

At last, he sighs in frustration and turns away to the medic once more.

“Put em’ under.”

Terror grips at you. You scream, thrash, a primal fear screeching through your veins as you’re approached by the grim faced medic.

Then, the medical tent shakes with the force of a nearby explosion. Graves spins, eyes wide. Instantly, the base alarm begins to roar, nearly deafening the instant chatter of his radio. Graves is moving, barking order, growling at the two shadows who stand nearby.

“Prep for transport. We’re takin’ em to the general.”

Shepherd.

They’re moving you. They’re going to give you to Shepherd because of…whatever this is. Your instincts scream danger, and it only renews your effort to escape, thrashing at your restraints and screaming with all your might.

The two shadows press down on your struggling limbs- a hand snaking up to cover your mouth. You plead with teary eyes, desperately afraid, whimpering as the medic pushes the needle down into your arm once more. The overly warm rush of morphine slinks through your veins, draws your eyelids heavy against your will.

It’s at that moment that you see them.

Four armed figures sweep into the tent, and as the two soldiers spin and reach for their weapons. They're taken out before they can even shout for aid, two  of the men instantly subduing the two guards, choking them into unconsciousness with heavy, muscular arms. A third points a weapon at the medic, growling as the man cowers.

A face hovers into view- Brown eyes a deeper color than his skin, warm gaze concerned even as he smiles. He’s handsome, a delirious part of your brain realizes as unconsciousness begins to descend over you.

“Nice to meet you, mate.” He tells you as you begin to fade. “Name’s Gaz. Don’t worry, we’ll be here when you wake up. We got it from here.”

You try to ask him what he means, but you’re gone before the words can pass your lips.

- - -

“I’m getting kind of tired of this.” You think as soon as you wake up for the third time in twelve or so hours, flat on your back and looking at the ceiling of a plane.

There’s a jacket covering you, and as you sit up your groan, feeling the remnants of morphine clear from the uncomfortable haze of your brain.

“Easy.” A gruff voice tells you, and your eyes dart up to take in the sight of a man sitting on a bench beside you, the airplane rattling around you both. “You’ve had a rough go of it, take it slow.”

“Who…?” You manage to ask, pressing a heel of your palm to the center of your eye to dispel the lingering headache, looking around to take in the other three men who sit in various stages of alertness. You take them in one by one, starting with the man beside you with the beard and the hat. He looks older than you suspect he is- the age showing in his eyes. 

Beside him sits a man in a mask, the hard plastic of it in the shape of a skull. He blinks at you slow like a cat, and with his arms crossed he seems to take up so much space on the tiny aircraft.

Across from him sits a younger man with a mohawk, blue eyed and bright. He smiles at you, gaze twinkling as you blink in confusion.

Your eyes land on a familiar face. “...Gaz.” You offer uncertainly, and he beams at you. 

“Right’o.” He tells you, and then nods to the man beside him. “And Soap-” The man in the mohawk gives a grin and a wave. “Ghost-” The man is the skull mask, arms crossed, regarding you coolly. “And Price.” The man who sits beside you, elbows on his knees, blue eyes staring keenly down at you. 

You reply with your name purely out of politeness, but are unable to stop the tensing of your limbs as you slowly and cautiously press away from the four men who have kidnapped you.

The questions pour out of you before you can stop them. Who are they? Where are you? Where’s Shadow Company? Where are they taking you? How did you get here?

…Do they know you died?

The men before you exchange some looks of concern, before at last it’s Price who moves and settles on his haunches before you with a reassuring smile. He sits just out of reach, trying to respect your personal space as much as he can in the tiny plane.

“You’re safe.” Is the first thing he tells you, voice firm but soft. “We’ll make sure your commander can’t find you, so don’t you worry about that.”

“The rest will have to wait.” He goes on, offering you a hand to stand and helping you to a seat beside Gaz. “We’ll wait until we’re at our safehouse to tell you the rest.”

You swallow nervously, hands bunched in the jacket draped over your lap. Your mind desperately tries to understand what has happened, how you could have ended up here.

“He…killed me.” You manage shakily, remembering Graves standing over you as you woke up from the lethal rush of morphine. “Graves.”

Price looks grim as he nods silently.

“But…” You trail off, confused, scared, trembling. You look at him, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort. “I’m…alive?”

“That you are.” Price replies with grave seriousness. “And you’re not dying anytime soon.”

You find out later that ‘soon’ doesn’t begin to describe what your life will become.

You have no option but to trust these men, you realize. You think about running, but you have no idea where you are, where they’ve taken you. As you’re gently escorted off the plane on an abandoned runway somewhere in the desert, you think about climbing back aboard and forcing the pilot to take you home.

There’s nothing back there for you, you realize. Not with your outstanding debts and mistakes, not when Graves will be able to track you down.

You curl into a corner of the safehouse- skittish and forlorn as you lose yourself in your thoughts. The others busy themselves disposing of their gear, talking in low voices, and you ignore the sympathetic looks they offer you. 

Gaz settles in front of you, pushes a steaming mug of something warm into your hands, and you manage a grateful glance.

“Where are we?” You ask him quietly, and he gives you a worried little smile. 

“A few hours outside Cairo. A safehouse. An old one.”

You hear Soap sneeze in another room, complaining about spiderwebs. It summons a weary smile to your features.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” You ask quietly, and Gaz stands, offers you a hand so you rise with him.

“Of course.” He tells you, and places a hand on your shoulder to guide you in the direction of the brightly lit kitchen. “But first? Dinner. Can’t have you starve to death.”

“Will that actually kill me?” You think, but offer no other reply

Dinner is a mix of MREs and canned fruit from one of the cabinets. You watch as Ghost passes his pineapple pieces over to Soap, who swallows them down happily. Price leans over to murmur something to him, and Soap huffs a little sound of amusement around his fork. You observe them, realizing that there’s a warm familiarity between all of them, a trust that runs inherently deep and profound. It summons a little pang of longing inside you, wishing that maybe you might find something similar one day

You pick at your dinner, not really hungry. The food sits uneasily in your stomach with your anxiety, and as the plates lay scattered across the table the others finally turn to you.

“You died.” Price begins, startlingly direct.

“Yes.” You tell him breathily in return. He nods, pauses before his next words.

“So did all of us.”

You blink at that, trying to process- before Soap finally chimes in.

“Aye, your commander shot me straight in the neck, the bastard.” He grins sunnily. “Shoulda seen his face when I got right back up, fit as a fiddle.”

You do smile at that, imagining Grave’s utter shock at a dead man walking. It fades as you fidget with the cooling mug in your hands.

“So…what?” You ask quietly. “I’m some kind of…immortal?”

The silence that follows is deafening.

You look up, meet the blank stares of the men before you, and feel your stomach turn to ice.

“You’re kidding.”

Price shakes his head slowly, and you watch as he reaches for a cigar in his jacket. 

“Those’ll kill you.” You want to tell him, but you wonder if it truly is a moot point.

“We were all like you, once.” He sighs as smoke spills from his mouth. “Soldiers, young, trying to do some good in a war we didn’t ask for.”

They tell you their stories, and you sit transfixed as the tale of their lives unravel before you. 

Gaz and Soap are the ‘youngest’ they claim, both in age and in the time they first died. World War 2, they tell you. Gaz was a pilot shot down in France, and Soap was an infantryman only a few hundred miles west. 

“Price found me.” Gaz tells you, smiling fondly at the older man, who returns the expression.

Price tells you of the vision he had- of Kyle terrified, tugging at his straps as his plane burned and spiraled out of control, only to wake up completely unscathed in a pasture. Of course, he’d been killed twice over by German forces before Price managed to find him. Gaz had been the same as you- flighty, scared, uncertain. Price had hauled him to an abandoned farmhouse, had explained to him the same they explain to you now- that one day you just stop dying. You don’t age. You can’t be killed. You blackout, bleed out, and then you just wake back up. 

“Soap had it less easy.” He nods to the Scot, who grimaces. Ghost tilts his head in Soap’s direction.

“You want me to tell em, Johnny?”

Soap grumbles, and explains the story of waking up downriver, having drowned, with his entire squad dead after a charge across the Rhine. He tried to find his way back under the cover of night and found a man in a mask instead. He thought he was the reaper coming to collect his soul, but when Ghost started trying to explain immortality and becoming ageless, Soap had stared at him in complete disbelief- and then ran.

“You pitched a fit when I finally caught you.” Ghost remarks smugly, and Johnny’s frown deepens.

“Couldnae help it.” He grouses. “You did a shite job of explaining. Plus-” He jabs a finger in his friend’s direction. “You shot me.”

You blink at that, looking at Ghost, who shrugs, completely unrepentant.

“You tried to escape.”

“But still-!”

“And they’ve been trying to kill each other ever since.” Gaz adds cheekily as the two bicker.

“No killing each other.” Price reminds them sternly, and it quiets down the squabbling. 

“Wait-” You try, looking to Soap and Gaz. “So you’re…what, like 100 years old?”

“Give or take a few years.” Soap offers. “I’m the older one.”

Gaz snorts. “You are not.”

“I got found first.”

“I was literally born before you.”

“By eight months.”

“Still counts.”

You turn to Ghost. “So then how old are you?”

“I stopped counting.” He replies plainly. “16th century.”

Your jaw drops. Ghost looks smug at your expression as you try to run the numbers.

“You’re leaving out the part where you were in the Anglo-Scottish War, Simon.” Soap bemoans, displeased. It sours Ghost’s expressions as he turns to the Scot.

“I didn’t even know you yet.” He remarks, mildly annoyed, and it does little to ease Soap’s vague irritation. 

“So then Price found you too.” You comment, and Ghost turns back to you.

“After years of chasing him.” Price interjects. “There’s a reason we call him ‘Ghost’.”

You learn later about the things Ghost doesn’t tell you- about being buried alive by his enemies, of suffocating and dying over and over as he clawed through the dirt on his way to freedom. An inevitable, stifling death where he didn’t understand how he kept coming back, only to suffocate once more.

All eyes then turn to Price, who regards you with a knowing smile.

“Old.” He responds to your wordless question. “Too old.”

You want to press him, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes that makes you bite your tongue.

“So…do you…we…” You correct slowly. “...get sick? Starve? Drown?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever been sick.” Ghost provides. “Been starved and drowned, though.”

“Starving is a fool’s death.” Price says, oddly grim. His cigar burns down to ash, and he sighs. 

There’s a solemn silence that settles over the safehouse then, and you feel the heavy weight of unspoken words sink between you all. 

“There’s rules for us.” Price states then, once more reigning in his air of authority that draws you all a little straighter, attentive. 

He goes on to tell you the rules that these men live and die by.

Don’t be seen. Don’t stay in one place for more than a few years at a time. If you die, move on. Stay together. Always communicate. Never leave a man behind.

They’ve spent decades, centuries trying to find ways to use their time to the best of their ability- and the only thing they’ve come to is to stay as soldiers, trying their best to scrub the scum off the face of the earth so the world stays clean. Illegal drug trade, weapons smuggling, extremism, genocide, doing whatever they can to help the innocent and the blameless from violence, and dying to do so. 

What else is there to do with all the time? They tell you. Money, luxury, empires, it doesn’t matter when you live forever. So instead they fight, do what they can to save humanity from itself. It’s not an easy job, but it must be done. 

They’ve seen things that haunt the shadows of their eyes, witness to the worst villainy and grotesqueness humanity has to offer. They’ve all had to take years off when the burden of the world became too heavy for their souls. 

You don’t learn of the time when one of them, and they’ll never say who, tried to give up entirely, had become lost as he desperately tried to rid himself of his immortality. They don’t speak of the decade it took to bring him back, to mend his soul back to fullness once more. It’s a gift, they’ll tell you, but you too will come to learn it’s a curse.

The silence is broken by Soap.

“Can be fun, sometimes.” He offers. “Kyle and I have a runnin’ bet over who dies first in whatever year we’re in.”

“No killing each other.” Price reiterates, scowling at Soap and Gaz, who look guilty. “Not even for fun.”

You make a note to ask about that story later.

“And most of all…” Price goes on, voice grave. “Don’t get captured.”

You remember the infirmary, the cuffs, Graves standing over you with his cold, calculating gaze as fear mounted higher inside you.

You shudder, and Soap lays a warm hand on your shoulder in reassurance.

“They won’t find you.” Ghost provides, and his voice is softer, eyes kinder. “You’re with us now.”

“Simon is right.” Gaz adds seriously. “We’ve been doing this for decades. Your commander has nothing on us.”

You offer him a grateful smile, and remember his warm eyes in the moment you first met him.

“We’ll be here when you wake up.”

These men saved you from a fate that was out of your control. They rescued you, kept you safe, and refused to leave you behind. They brought you to safety, comforted you, and even now they take care of you from your own fear of the future.

“You’re one of us.” Price offers quietly, strangely tender. His hand settles on yours, squeezes it hard for just a moment. “We don’t leave behind one of our own.”

You smile at him through the tears, more grateful than you can express. You’re still scared, and in the years to come you’ll still have nightmares of the man who killed you twice over, who had once been your ally. His betrayal sits in your heart as distant terror, and when it becomes too much your new family holds you, comforts you once more.

You’ll grow with them, fight with them. You’ll hold them as they breathe their last, cry with them over the things you couldn’t accomplish in your never ending fight against the worst of humanity. You’ll lament the agelessness between you all, but will help each other to stand once more. You’ll stand beside them for the centuries to come, and you’ll die alongside them.

And then you’ll wake up.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Something I find interesting when viewing the two recent Dune movies as a whole is that initially, Paul is more than willing to use the prophecy and his visions for his own gain to convince Liet to help them, while Jessica whispers "careful!" at his side, and she later recommends they leave the planet entirely. But Paul decides they'll stay with the Fremen. Even at the beginning of Part 2, Paul is like "fuck yeah let's wage war on the Harkonnen" and Jessica is again counseling caution: "your father didn't believe in revenge." She goes through the Water of Life ceremony not because she wants to help Paul fulfill the prophecy but because she's forced to: do this or die. And even then, the old Reverend Mother had to use the Voice on her to get Jessica to drink.

That all changes when Jessica nearly dies during the ceremony. After that, Paul becomes more wary of embracing the prophecy, and she just throws herself into it. Paul nearly loses his mother (and his unborn sister) to a painful, agonizing poison - mere hours/days after losing his father and all their friends/allies to the Harkonnen slaughter - and decides it's not worth it. Meanwhile, Jessica gets a direct download of memories of millennia of oppression and goes "yeah let's burn everything to the ground."

It's an interesting, quick reversal at the beginning of the second movie, and it's great.

Ooh thank you for this great ask. I can always count on you for smart and thoughtful Jessica takes!

You make a really good observation about their reversal of positions--I had been struggling to figure out how Paul's line about "I must sway the non-believers" fit into his overall arc, but you are absolutely right that this feels like a continuation of how he talks to Liet. We're seeing the first stirrings of that little "maybe I am special" thought that later takes center stage.

For most of Part Two, Paul has several reliable counterweights pulling against that streak of arrogance and high-handedness that he's had from the beginning. Jessica almost dies drinking the Water of Life, which, like you point out, has got to make him think twice about encouraging people to believe in the prophecy. Then, he spends most of the movie surrounded by Chani and her friends and comrades, who seem the most skeptical of the prophecy and also aren't going to give his ego the time of day. And at the same time, he has an opportunity to pour his desire for revenge into collective political action that seems to be making a difference.

It's only when those countervailing forces start collapsing (the people who had started out as his equals are now becoming his followers; the Harkonnens attack Sietch Tabr and other civilian population centers, proving they are far from militarily defeated; Gurney shows up and immediately offers what seems like an easy solution to their problems that only Paul can access) that the little maybe I am special voice starts winning again.

As for Jessica, her journey doesn't get as much focus in the movie but it's also fascinating. She's a great character because she is so fucking smart at navigating power structures from what seems like an unenviable position. Did she have any choice about being sent to Caladan to become Leto's concubine? I am guessing she did not. But she sure figured out how to work that situation to her advantage. It happened that along the way she and Leto came to genuinely love and respect each other. But I'm sure she would still have figured out an angle even if that had not been the case.

In Part Two she starts out in a frankly quite terrifying position: she can undergo this unknown, dangerous ritual or die, and also possibly put Paul's safety at risk by raising doubt about whether he is the Lisan al-Gaib. But after she survives the Water of Life, she is launched into a powerful position in Fremen society and pretty quickly realizes she can use that to both protect Paul and get her revenge on the people who tried to kill her whole family. And unlike Paul, she is much more cognizant of the intergalactic power structures at work and aware that the Harkonnens themselves were a pawn in all this, so her target is the Bene Gesserit and the emperor.

I would have loved more time to explore Jessica's relationship to Fremen society and her POV in general. Because in some ways she becomes as Fremen as it's possible for her to be--she has access to thousands of years of memories of Fremen history and culture and politics; she becomes instantly fluent in the language and she is immersed in Fremen daily life in the sietch. (If there's one single thing I wanted more of, it was daily life in the sietch.) But she's still the same person she was, so she hasn't lost that ability to be ruthless and calculating and see people as forces to be manipulated. In Part One, her love for Paul and Leto provided an interesting counterweight to this that allowed us to see some moments of vulnerability from her (ie. she knows Paul has to undergo the Gom Jabbar test but she's terrified for him while it's happening). In Part Two she is so isolated for most of the movie (away from Paul; surrounded by followers who were never friends; I think we can all agree that talking to your unborn fetus doesn't really count) that we don't get a lot of these more unguarded moments from her. (I would have loved some Jessica/Stilgar action and it seems like the potential was very much set up for that, but I understand why they didn't have time.)

But in general I thought they did a great job of setting up this contradictory tension between Jessica and Paul, where they both want so desperately to protect each other and they both want revenge, but the way they each go about it ends up putting them in direct conflict with each other.

[blingblong55]

Can't catch me now- Simon "Ghost" Riley

Photo credits: @ave661 ---- No mentions of reader, angst, comfort? fluff? death of character ----

"GHOST!" 

It was too late, the body hit the ground. Simon Joseph Riley was pronounced dead. Gunshot to the head, his heart penetrated by the bullet and the ones to witness this are his mates from the team. His blood ran down the rocky mountain. The team witnesses something. During this whole mission, they only experienced rain and thunder, to their surprise, the second Simon dies, the sun shines through the clouds. A rainbow was born over the horizon. "Enjoy your new home, soldier," Captain Price nods at his own words as with glee he knows his comrade is finally home. "Take it easy," Gaz takes his cap on and looks at the sun that pours from the clouds. "Tell Soap we'll meet him for drinks someday," Price adds and fights back tears.

 It's the end of an era but the beginning of a good life for the two past comrades. 

Three days later, there he is, his body in that casket, a proper military funeral given to him and he is laid to rest with the rest of his family. 

Simon opens the door to his childhood home, the sun rays casting through the window, the walls grey and white "Welcome home, son," his mum greets him. There is confusion in Simon. Why was he here? is this a dream? Before he can even gather his thoughts, his brother, nephew and even his sister-in-law walk into the entryway and hug him. "Welcome home, brother," Tommy whispers as he hugs a confused Simon. 

Why is his dead family here? Welcome home! what does this mean?

Oh...

Oh by all luck, he's dead. 

"Mum?" 

"Yes, Simon?" the woman's sweet voice rings in his ears. 

All of a sudden, he is excited and happy. A smile creeps into his lips and there it was, that good feeling. He is home. His body doesn't ache, the scars are gone and all that is left with him is a smile and an afterlife where in this one, he finally has it all. 

"The girls are in the kitchen," his mum whispers. 

His wife and girls? There it is, that smile. He hasn't seen them since their funeral, this must mean he truly is in heaven. 

He walks past his mother and goes into the kitchen. The sight is too much to not just stop and idolise. His wife, his three daughters and those smiles and giggles. "Girls?" His voice is raspy. There is a knot in his throat. He is home with them too. "Daddy!" His youngest smiles and runs to him with her small arms open, his two other daughters follow suit. 

"Oh, my loves," his big arms wrapping over all of his daughters. Tears run down, happy ones. It's been two years since he last held them this way. "My lovie," Simon holds his arm out so his sweet wife can join this moment. That gentle and soft hand of hers, god it's like the heavens finally gave him peace. He sobs, it's uncontrollable and how can a man like him control such tears when after so long of losing his family...families to his job he finally has both? 

He gives kisses to all their foreheads. "Daddy, what took so long?" His eldest little princess asks. "I don't know princess, but I'm finally home," he reassures and hugs her again. Those tears run down yet again and he won't stop them. 

This is his heaven. The walls, the giggles, the hugs, and that familiar scent. Heaven is not clouds and a pearly gate for him, no, but it is this. A kitchen, his four loves, his mum, Tommy, Joseph and even Beth, everyone that has ever mattered to him is here and for once, he is in heaven. 

"Uncle Soap!" Joseph smiles. 

Soap?...Johnny?

"About time you came to the party, LT," Soap pats Simon's back. 

"Great to see you, mate." 

"Likewise. I held onto a good bottle for ya, yer girl won't let me open it though," Soap sends a teasing annoyed look at Simons's wife and a small chuckle escapes Simon. 

"She's a stubborn one, like yer, Lt." Soap teases. "I married her for a reason, isn't it right, love?" Simon can't help but smile as he gets to finally say that nickname again. "Very, Si." What a sweet delight, to have his pretty girl call him that again. 

"Price and Gaz joining?"

"Not yet, give them a few good years."

"Daddy, let's go play outside!" 

This is what he missed. The demands from his princess, the giggles, the big eyes and that pout when he would say no. "Okay, but only before your mum wipes that chocolate stain from your nose." He chuckles. "Deal," the little girl runs back to Simons's wife. 

From a corner, Simon sees Tommy. He's playing catch with his son, laughing at some dumb joke. 

It's beautiful. It's painfully beautiful how one can die on Earth but live in their heaven. 

One soldier dreams of this, they yearn for it and that is what Simon did for nearly 28 years. Now, all he has is this. No more war, no more aches, no one to chase. He can grow in this home again. He will live the life he always dreamed and right now, that is all he wants and needs. 

Yeah, you thought that this was the end

A/N: I honestly don't know where this was heading so....im sorry if it's shit

Tags:

@joyfulmarvelofavengers @ghostnna22 @hermizery @liyanahelena @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed

[blues824]

Snake and Love hashira and Poly!Bi!reader unrequited love!

The cannon lovers don't take notice of reader's love for both of them! As reader been obliviously showing their love for the two... sooner or later reader stops their efforts unnoticeable and get kind of sad about it...

reader can have a sad ending of dying by (demon, self inflicted, Died of unknown like illness ect..) their crow delivered the message of their death while also giving all the hashira a long letter! Mini reactions of all letters! The letters are their feelings towards all the hashira even if they didn't talk much!

Angst is what I am feeling sorry y'all fluff lovers out there!

Your cause of death is up to your interpretation.

Gyomei Himejima

He had someone read it to him for obvious reasons

Cried more than usual

You didn’t talk much, but it still hurt

From that point on, he made sure your memory was honored

Mitsuri Kanroji

Upon finding out that you loved both her and Obanai, she wept

For days on end, she cried

She was unconsolable

Keeps your haori if it was recoverable

Giyu Tomioka

Even though he tried not to get attached to people

He thought you were an exception

You were his friend, and now you are gone

Learned his lesson the hard way, I guess

Tengen Uzui

Well, this wasn’t a very flamboyant situation

His wives wept at the death of their friend

However, no tears left the Sound Hashira’s eyes

He was simply in shock

Sanemi Shinazugawa

You were the person who got him closer to his younger brother

Now you were gone

He tried his hardest not to cry

But goddamn it was hard

Shinobu Kocho

Once she saw your crow, she knew what happened

She just felt tired 

Tired of losing the people that she loves

Tired of mourning those she has lost

Kyojuro Rengoku

Another fallen comrade in arms

It’s not an uncommon thing, but he didn’t expect it to be you

He lets a few tears fall as he reads the letter

You knew you weren’t coming back 

Obanai Iguro

When he read your written confession, he went into shock 

Kaburamaru started hissing sadly

At night, he weeps because he hadn’t known about your feelings

It’s too late now. You’re gone

Muichiro Tokito

The first time anyone saw him snap back to reality

No, this will not be an Eminem reference

He didn’t know you well, but you have fought many battles together

He places some flowers upon your burial site

[kakashi-miso]

I also have a short manga called "Bad Feeling" I translate all pages into English so everyone can read it.

Kakashi's thoughts: "When I panicked and used the rai-kiri to protect Rin from an enemy flying towards her, I received a deep wound in my side. A sharp pain pierced my body, leaving me no chance to stay on my feet for the next couple of hours. Apparently , there was poison on the kunai, just as I thought"

Rin: Kakashi!

Kaka: We retreat “My body failed me. I still fell to the ground. After that, I remember everything only in fragments.”

“It seemed to me that I was dying: Blood was soaking my clothes at high speed, the pain rang through my body with sharp sensations, as if my nerve endings were being torn from the inside. Damn hell.”

“I heard Rin’s voice so far away from me, although she was sitting next to me.”

"I heard another voice in the background. It seems that Teacher Minato is already here. He's 20 minutes late…"

"Quiet and Dark"

"Am I dead?"

“Is there nothing after death?”

"And I was wrong. Heart rate monitor" Rin: Kakashi! How are you I healed everything as best I could, but my skills were not enough to remove all the poison "I made her worry… After Obito died, she was scared by my pale appearance." Rin: You scared me quite a bit when you started to lose consciousness, but the doctor said it was because of the sharingan

Kaka: I'm fine “But despite this, there was still a bad feeling inside me. As if the danger was not yet over.” "As if something terrible will happen later" "Not now"

Minato: Wait, someone is coming

Comrade: Minato, are you sure that this is the enemy? Minato: "Oh no…"

Minato: Kakashi, can you hear me?! Minato: Take her and take her to Konoha Comrade: Yes, of course

Minato: I…

“I think it was terribly painful for the teacher to see this picture.” Minato: Forgive me, I didn't have time!

“But the terrible thing was that the bad feeling never left me. The anxiety inside continued to build up. I thought a lot about this feeling. But for two years I began to ignore it, and only then did I understand why this feeling would not let me go.”

"After that day it was empty"

[the-traveling-poet]

Hello 🥺🩷 I love your Levi x lieutenant y/n so much and I've been having an idea regarding Levi and lieutenant y/n but I couldn't find any Tumblr who'd make that request come to life unti I saw your head cold fanfic I was just in love . This is the idea I have in mind .... Levi and lieutenant y/n have grown up together from the time kuchel was alive they had a spark between them but after they joined the corps they became more focused on the duties they had and y/n chose to be his lieutenant to silently stay by his side . The scene where Levi was listening to Mikasa , Eren and armin sitting and talking about the outside world and sea after kenny dies , the trip leaves and Levi is sitting there tipsy when y/n comes and tries to tell him to go to sleep but then later she just sits down with him and they have a heartfelt talk with each other and how they have been one of the biggest supports in each other's life throughout their journey , they both indirectly confess how they feel and the other one gets it but they just sit there .

I know my request is very long but I have had this idea in my mind for such a long time I would really really be so greateful if you could make this idea come to life 🥹🙏💓🤍

Silent Confessions

══════════════════════

For as long as you could remember, Levi was at your side. From the moment your mothers met in the Underground and introduced their children to one another, up until you had both escaped that hell hole to become Captain and Lieutenant within the Survey Corps.

Over time, your bond had grown stronger with the more dangers you had thus far faced together.

Now, with a short break to prepare for the upcoming expedition to reclaim Wall Maria, you were able to spend some one on one time with your favorite shorty.

══════════════════════

Pairing: Levi x Lieutenant!Reader

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, mentions of mental struggles

SFW, friends-to-lovers, fluff, S3

══════════════════════

A/N: Okay YES, I LOVE this idea. So cute I cannot T-T I hope I brought your vision justice!! Sorry it took me longer than usual to post this, my job got in the way BIG time.

As always if somethings doesn’t meet your expectations, I’ll happily re-write!

Enjoy~ 🤎

══════════════════════

The cheers of many drunken men and women echoed off the halls as they celebrated the Scout’s most recent victory.

Yes, many had fallen and suffered injuries worse than death itself, but this was the farthest humanity had come to a victory in…well…ever. So of course, a celebration was in order.

The cadets from the 104th trainee corps all stood around their table, cheering and drinking and congratulating one another on their various deeds, finally at ease enough to relax and be themselves.

You smiled to yourself as you lifted your own mug to your lips, swallowing the burning bitter taste of whisky as it flowed down your throat. You felt good, for once. It had been longer than you’d liked to have admit since you allowed yourself an evening to let loose and enjoy your time in the present.

Downing your second drink, you quickly went to refill your mug before wandering around the mess hall; merely observing your comrades enjoy their rewarded night off.

Along the way, you caught many familiar voices in the crowd, which made you smile to yourself in relief.

Good, they made it back alive.

Seeing all these happy faces around you reminded you of a time that seemed oh so long ago. Back in the days you still had a bright glow of hope shining in your eyes. While you had more hope now than you’d had in years, you still couldn’t help but worry.

For the citizens of Paradis. For your companions. For your friends, and yourself. Would you live to see this war ended? Or would you join your late friends and meet their same fate?

Shaking your head, you sighed.

Tonight is about celebration. Letting go, and relaxing…that’s what I should be doing, too.

The longer you stood there lost in your own thoughts, the rowdier and louder it had become in the hall. Looking around, you found the main source of the sudden bombardment of cheers and shouts.

Between two tables stood Eren and Jean, fists gripping each other’s shirts as they sluggishly threw punches. You were tempted to intervene, but when you saw the calm look on Mikasa’s face near to where Eren stood, you let your posture relax again. The girl was usually so uptight about his safety, so seeing her relaxed reassured the two would be fine.

A presence to your left caught your eye, and you turned towards the man who now stood beside you.

“Evening, Levi,” you greeted softly.

He replied with a click of his tongue, his narrowed gaze never leaving the cadets to meet yours.

“I suppose they should be broken up. Again,” he scoffed, folding his arms.

“Perhaps…Just don’t go too hard on them.” You chuckled behind your drink. Finally Levi shot you a look from the corner of his eye, observing the way you brought the mug to your lips.

“I don’t suppose they had any of that?” He raised a brow, gesturing to your alcohol.

“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. It would explain the sudden and poorly executed fighting, but I wasn’t babysitting them, so I cant say.” You shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip as you watched the two boys go at it.

Shaking his head, Levi left your side and strode towards them, but his scowl wasn’t as deep-set now.

“Oi,” Levi called out, now standing behind the brawling teens. Two swift kicks sent them rolling, clutching their sides and stomachs.

“Go to bed.”

The boys started to frantically scatter at his threatening tone, but poor Jean crumpled on the ground. The sound of him losing his dinner and drinks all over the floor made you turn your head away with a grimace, quickly making your way to the door leading out of the hall.

“And someone clean that up,” you heard Levi grumble before the large wooden door closed behind you.

The cool night air caressed your face in a gentle breeze, barely ruffling through your hair. Breathing in deeply, you closed your eyes for a moment; enjoying the quiet stillness that was now your surroundings.

Of course, the banter and chatter of the soldiers in the hall behind you resonated off the cobblestone street at your feet, but as muffled as it was you could pretend you were far away in your own world for a moment.

You started to walk aimlessly, just to enjoy the solitude and the peace that came with it. But after some time, a trio of voices caught your attention.

Stopping in an ally way, you peaked around the corner to see Eren sitting on a flight of stone steps with Mikasa and Armin; all lost in their own private conversation.

For a moment, you contemplated joining them to check up on them, but a sudden shift in shadows to your left had you muffling a gaps of surprise.

Weary grey eyes met your own, looking up at you from the ground where he sat. After regulating your breathing, you offered him a small smile; of which he merely nodded to.

Levi lifted a bottle to his lips and took a couple gulps from the container before setting it back down between his legs and looking over his shoulder towards the street outside the alleyway.

It seemed you weren’t the only one eves-dropping.

You slowly and quietly took a seat beside your Captain, still clutching your own mug in your hand as you leaned against the wall beside him. You both waited until the young trio had left the street to retire the night, leaving you and Levi alone in the near darkness the ally provided.

“Didn’t think you drank,” you commended dryly.

“Just cause I don’t drink at every given opportunity doesn’t mean I don’t drink at all,” he responded quietly, taking another small sip of his beverage.

“Fair enough,” you shrugged, mimicking him and taking a strong swing from your mug.

A silence fell between you for a moment while you gazed up at what little of the night sky you could see from the ally way, before your attention was snatched away by Levi’s sudden comment.

“I can’t understand how they do it. Maybe it’s because they’re so young…But they retain their hopes and dreams, even after all they’ve seen and done.”

You thought over his words for a moment before you replied.

“That they do. They sound so passionate when they talk about their ambitions. I think, with their determination, they’ll get there some day. The ‘sea’ I think Armin called it.”

Levi scoffed quietly, but not quite in disapproval. The expression on his face wasn’t one you could fully decipher.

“I tried that, once; having dreams and ambitions. All it got me was a pile of corpses.”

Pouting slightly, you lowered your head to stare down at your feet, bringing your knees closer to your chest.

“Life is hard. It’s a constant struggle. But if there’s something you truly want…Something or someone you truly love…You find a way to keep moving forward. To keep fighting for that cause. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin obviously have something they truly want, so they keep fighting and maintain their hope.”

Here you paused, thinking over how to word your next question.

“So how about you? You’re still here. You’re still fighting. So that means you have something you want to obtain. Or see. Or someone worth struggling for. What is it you dream about?”

Levi caught your adamant stare, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He held your gaze as he thought, giving you the opportunity to really study and memorize his features.

Handsome features, you thought.

Finally, after releasing a sigh he seemed to have been holding in, he lowered his gaze down to the stone below him and fiddled with his bottle.

“I’m alive because I need to be. The people need something or someone they can look to for protection. That’s my job.”

“And?” You pressed.

“And? And what? That’s it.” Levi scoffed, shooting you a confused glare.

“No…I don’t think it is. Something’s keeping you fighting. I know you. Since we were children.” You chuckled around the rim of your mug.

Levi grumbled under his breath, making you stifle a laugh and cut him off.

“I’m not sure how much you’ve had to drink tonight, Captain, but I can promise you whatever you say will be kept between the two of us. Just like old times.”

Shooting you one last look from over his bottle, he rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I said, I suppose I’m still going on because I want to see those I…tolerate…live a life of peace some day.” He paused over his words for a moment, but finally met your eye and continued.

“There aren’t many, but for those few I’d do anything for.”

“Awe Levi, am I by chance one of these few?” you decided to lightly tease, leaning in closer to him.

Surprisingly, he didn’t try to pull away. Instead he stayed still, his shoulder brushing up against yours. You could smell the booze on his breath, but you hardly minded.

“Seeing as you’re the only one left alive that I’ve known nearly since birth, I suppose I tolerate you.” He huffed. “You’ve…been there for me, time and time again…I’m not sure what I’d do if you had died with them all those years ago.”

Grief clenched your heart, thinking back to your late comrades. They’d met their gruesome fate on your first exposition beyond the walls.

Lowering your gaze, you gently placed your head onto his shoulder. He flinched slightly in surprise, but again didn’t pull away.

“I miss them, yknow? I know you do, too. But we keep the memory of Isabel and Farlan alive by fighting on. We keep the memories of our late mothers alive by continuing to fight. And though we only recently learned of this, the same applies to your uncle, Kenny. We fight. Cause we have a reason to.” You sighed after you finished, as he remained silent.

For quite awhile, he kept his gaze trained on the ground between his feet, not speaking a word as he downed the rest of his bottle.

“You,” he whispered, suddenly, after awhile of tense silence.

“Huh?”

“You asked what else. What else I fight for, Keep going on for….I want to see you live the life you’ve always wanted.”

His whispered reply brought heat to your cheeks, and you tried your best to hide that with your coat collar.

“You don’t have to worry about me. You’re stuck with me wether you like it or not.” You chuckled, playfully bumping his shoulder to diffuse the sudden awkward tension that surrounded the two of you after his comment.

“Yeah, you made that pretty damn clear when you fought to be my lieutenant.” Levi hummed, his eyes on the now empty drink in his hand. His eyes shifted slightly, and his weight leaned against your shoulder gently. He might not have been sober at this moment, but you didn’t worry. He could handle his liquor well, you knew. But even still, his tipsy words ignited a spark within your heart.

Blushing slightly once more, you averted your gaze from his face down to your hands.

“Yeah, well…You didn’t refuse my request, when I went to Erwin about it.”

“A decision I contemplate every day.”

“Would you have said no, if you knew what you do now, back then? All the dangers we’d face, and the things we had to do?” You asked almost hesitantly.

He paused, seemingly in thought. “No. No, I never would have said no to you. And…I never will.” He finally murmured, nearly in a whisper with slightly rosy cheeks. From the alcohol, or from emotions, you’d never truly know.

But you could read between the lines of his words, and had to bite back a grin. You knew he wouldn’t like to have his words repeated back to him, albeit re-worded, so you kept quiet with the knowledge that maybe….just maybe….You weren’t the only one who had caught feelings after all these years working side by side with your best friend.

[cherryredstars]

CHERRYYY!! OMG LOOK

so I found this silly little tiktok while I was scrolling and...

https://www.tiktok.com/@__av.enue/video/7263884206076448001

I just wanted to ask if you could write something based on that?? 🤭

Idk much about writing so I'll just leave the rest to you and give you that

Thank you and have a good day/night!! :D

Warnings: Military AU, Talks of Death, Mentions of Abandonment, Slight Mentions with gn!reader

Summary: What if Miguel joined the military?

A/N: That tik tok is so!!!!!! I loved it!!! Made it more military than COD based because I didn’t want to steal those ideas!

Word Count: 1.1K (Edited)

Miguel never wanted to join the military. Gabriel was the one who had enlisted, and he loved it. He would come to visit Miguel while on leave and tell his big brother about his war stories and comrades. He would gush about the dreams he had to be part of a more elite squad and have a higher position. Gabriel would constantly hint at Miguel that he would be a great fit for the military with his love for rules and his large physique. Miguel would always brush it off, more content in his current work as a geneticist. 

The day he had woken up to a knock on his door will always haunt him. He was dressed in nothing but basketball shorts, hair still messy from sleep when he opened the door to find two dressed soldiers at his doorstep. They held grim, stoic expressions as a folded flag rested in their arms. Miguel’s grip on the doorknob tightened as they recited the rehearsed lines spoken when they had to report a death to a family. Miguel had tuned them out, staring past them until their mouths stopped moving. He wordlessly took the flag from them and closed the door with a nod. Later that night, Miguel drank an entire bottle of bourbon in the dark of his living room, furniture and objects shattered on the floor around him. 

A few weeks later, Miguel enlisted for the same branch Gabriel was in. He had finished boot camp at the top of his platoon, earning him an E-3 rank. Right after, he had started his AIT, choosing to study as a specialist for nuclear, chemical, and biological threats. With his former science background, he was able to do well. After graduation, he got a few days of break before he was assigned to a unit. 

It was slow for him to make friends, more focused on trying to work his way up and complete his brother’s goals. But eventually, he was able to warm up the slightest bit and found camaraderie among his fellow soldiers. 

It was hard for him to see some of his friends die in the field. No matter how many times it happened, it never got easier for him to deal with it. Sometimes, he questioned why Gabriel would want to live a life like this, why Miguel even bothered to make friends with people who are more destined to die than to live. But, the longer he stayed in the military the more he realized that no one wants to actually end up dead. That, the thought of throwing your life away gets easier when you know you aren’t dying alone. That, if you do end up dying, there will be people who hold onto your memory. Someone who will hold the pain for you and tell your story. He hopes someone shares his story in the same way he shares Gabriel’s when he dies. 

During one of his leaves, he had a drunken one night stand. He forgets about it, thinking nothing of it as he leaves for duty again. It only comes to bite him in the ass when he returns on leave again, finding out he got her pregnant. He doesn’t want kids. Not when he’s in the military and he spends more time on duty than in his own home.  How was he supposed to be a father if he’s forced to be a soldier first? What’s even worse, once the baby is born (a daughter he affectionately names Gabriella after his brother), her mother ups and leaves. He had no idea what to do, a now single father who won’t be able to be there during the crucial years of his daughter’s life. He ends up letting a military friend’s wife take care of her when he has to leave for duty, he later hires a nanny once Gabriella gets older. 

During another one of his leaves, he meets you. Between the military and taking care of his daughter, he finds little room for you at first. But eventually, a date happens. And that turns into more dates until you’re living in his home taking care of his daughter while he’s away. It brings him the greatest amount of joy when he comes back home, and among the civilian families, you and Gabriella stand waving excitedly for him. 

Both of his dog tags stay at home. The first tag, he had given to Gabriella to hold on to when she was younger. He had held on to the other one before he had given it to you. He has to hide his smile every time he looks towards the dining room table to see you and Gabriella, eating happily with matching tags around your necks. In return, a folded and sun damaged photo of Gabriella and you are tucked into his breast pocket, right over his heart. 

After having Gabriella and dating you, his fear of dying has increased. It pains him to think he would leave behind the two greatest people the world has ever gifted him with. The thought of you or Gabriella opening the door, just like he did years ago, to find someone holding a flag out as a shitty apology haunts him. In his nightmares, Gabriella hears the knock and opens the door. You come walking behind her, scolding her for opening the door for strangers. But, the words turn into sobs as two men (the same ones that showed up at his door for Gabriel) give you the same death speech and hand you a blood-stained flag. His dream always ends with Gabriella asking, “Do you think they’re Papa’s friends? Maybe they know when he’s coming home.”

Despite his fear, he always makes it home. He gets achievements and awards for his military work. He gets promoted to higher ranks, becomes part of that elite squad Gabriel always talked about. Gets the title that should have been Gabriel’s instead of Miguel’s.

He stays in the military for the full 20 years that are required if he wants retirement benefits. When those twenty years are up, he happily goes home to the both of you, knowing the threats of not coming home are gone. He spends the rest of his life working as a geneticist again, coming home to the loves of his life at the same time every day. 

Every year, on the day those soldiers come to Miguel’s door, he goes down to visit Gabriel’s grave. He sets down a fresh bouquet of flowers and sits there catching his brother up on what he missed since his last visit. And each year, Miguel thanks Gabriel for the family he found because of his years in the military. He thanks Gabriel for being the reason he now has you and Gabriella waiting for him at home. When he leaves the cemetery, he always has his hands shoved in his pockets, clutching onto a pair of dog tags that have his last name engraved on them, but aren’t his.

I apologize if I used any terms wrong or if things aren’t accurate. Despite coming from a military family, I have no idea what I’m talking about and everything was creative liberty or looked up.

[moo-blogging]

Late night thought #128:

The war had ended and you went back to the island, hurt and bruised. You were welcomed home as heroes as you and your comrades managed to convinced Eren to stop the rumbling and come home. The world wouldn't attack Paradise Island for another 50years now.

However, you no longer wanted to be in the military. You wanted to retire and settle down, maybe starting a family. Mikasa and Eren left too, hiding somewhere deep in the woods. Armin became a consultant to the military while Jean became the commander.

Before the reward ceremony, you joked with Queen Historia, who was heavily pregnant, that if you ever had a baby boy, he shall marry her daughter.

Two months later, you handed you resignation, and went to Queen Historia to say your goodbyes. You wanted to travel around the island, helping people restore their homes and finding your forever home too.

After you seen Queen Historia, you went to see your longest comrade, Levi. Levi was crippled, he could no longer walk, but he had recovered a lot. He hopped around the military camp with a walking stick. You came to say your goodbye and to ask him for a favour.

"Hey, Levi," you sat side by side on the deserted running fields where you used to spend your mornings training. "Remember how I said I wanted to settle down and start a family?"

Levi swallowed and nodded, "yea." He remembered the day before you had to leave for the Shiganshina District to seal the walls. You confessed your feelings to him, asking him if you both had a chance to be together. He turned you down, saying that you pledged your life to humanity, you dedicated your heart to the missions. You nodded and you never spoke about this again.

"Queen Historia told me today that she has a more suitable reward for me other than the pendant she gave the other day, a government-issue husband hahaha," you chuckled. You thought about the day Levi turned you down too. You thought you could ask him again if you survived, but Erwin died and you could never bring it up to him again. Even though Queen Historia had set up a blind date for you and you knew you had better chance with that stranger than Levi, you still liked him. Levi was a mystery you couldn't solve. You would like to have him in your life for the remaining days you had, but you need someone who wanted you with all his heart.

"Oh yea?" Levi's face was twisted with emotions you couldn't read.

"Yes, she said he is a good man. He might have a temper and a foul mouth, but he is kind. He has a house at the edge of the town. He's a tough guy, but sweet inside. She even said he had been watching me for some time now. He wants me."

"He sounds like the perfect husband."

"Yea, would you like to join me for wedding dress shopping some day? If I ever going to marry my government-issue husband."

"I can't," Levi blurted. You turned to look at him. He was hiding his grin with a smirk, "it's bad luck for the groom to see his bride in a wedding dress before the wedding."

:)

[ptn-imagines]

Can we have some headcanons for a romantic relationship with Cinnabar please? The reader might be either a chief or a sinner, it's up to you

This finally got me to finish Cinnabar's interrogation, and I'm glad it did! As a note, usually if a gender isn't specified I try to write gender-neutral, but there's enough subtext with Cinnabar that I'm not comfortable writing her romantically with anyone masculine-leaning, so I opted to write for f!Chief.

Romantic relationship between Cinnabar and f!Chief

By far, Cinnabar is probably the most normal partner in the whole MBCC that Chief could have picked – aside from perhaps Nightingale – and it shows.

There was no crazy romantic confession or outlandish gesture with these two. Heck, there wasn't even alcohol involved – just some coffee and cake slices at a cozy coffee shop Cinnabar took Chief to on one of her rare few days off.

Cinnabar was the one who confessed, and to her credit she managed to keep her voice more or less steady, even if she did blush as red as Cabernet’s hair.

(Chief later found out that her comrades at Serpent Eye had egged her into finally confessing, which made why the usually professional and somewhat emotionally shy Cinnabar suddenly confessed make sense.)

Compared to other Sinners, settling into a relationship with Cinnabar was… surprisingly easy. She was aware of Cinnabar's temperament, but also of every other Sinner's – so when nothing really seemed to change, Chief wondered if they'd done this wrong somehow.

Of course, it quickly became apparent that Cinnabar was being shy, even with the recent change in their relationship status. It was adorably endearing, and Chief began to try to think of ways to encourage Cinnabar to be a bit more confident showing affection.

It takes time, but Chief’s patience bears fruit. She’s able to get Cinnabar comfortable with hand-holding! It’s not much, but it’s honest work.

Given all this, Chief was surprised the first time Cinnabar entered her office, looking weary after a long and difficult dispatch – and pulled Chief into a gentle embrace.

Surprised, but not at all protesting. Any words died on the Chief’s tongue as she quickly wrapped her arms around the Sinner in kind, but this unusual behavior still worried her; reaching out with the shackles, she discovered that Cinnabar was even more tired than she had initially seemed. She wasn’t physically harmed, thank God, but even so… Cinnabar was an Endura Sinner for a reason. Seeing her this worn down to the bone set so many alarm bells ringing.

That night, Chief broke several Bureau rules and allowed Cinnabar to sleep with her in her bed. Cinnabar didn’t even protest the breach of etiquette, which only made the Chief even more worried. Just how exhausted was she? She was more than happy for the chance to cuddle with her usually hesitant partner, but…

When Cinnabar woke up the next morning, she was mortified at the breach in protocol. She apologized over and over, saying that she shouldn’t have let herself be so improper with the Chief, girlfriend or not. Nothing Chief said could change her mind, and her propriety was as endearing as it was frustrating in this particular instance.

Chief ended up telling Cinnabar she’d “let her off with a warning,” though she had no intentions of punishing the Sinner if this happened again. Of all the Sinners in the Bureau, Cinnabar was the least likely to try to take advantage of what had happened and make a habit out of it, so Chief saw nothing wrong with her seeking comfort and relaxation in a moment when she truly needed it.

Still, the Chief did order Cinnabar to rest for the next week, worried about her wellbeing. Cinnabar didn’t make a fuss about it, but it became evident by the second day that the Sinner was restless and more tense without something to do, so Chief had Cinnabar stand guard over her. It wasn’t like anyone was likely to be able to harm her in her office, and they both knew it, but it worked nevertheless; Cinnabar was able to wind down a little with something low-stress to do, and Chief got to enjoy her girlfriend’s company. This whole routine quickly became Chief’s go-to whenever she noticed Cinnabar was overworking herself.

Due to the workaholic natures of both Cinnabar and the Chief, dates for them are usually small outings tacked on after a mission, before they return to the Bureau. A walk around the block holding hands, or small talk over tea and cakes in a cafe; these dates are never anything grand, but then again, they wouldn’t want it to be.

The first time Cinnabar and Chief kissed is a moment neither of them will ever forget. It was in the wake of a particularly strenuous mission that had left the two of them stranded in a danger zone, hiding from Corruptors as they waited for a rescue team to come retrieve them. Huddled tightly against Cinnabar’s warmth, feeling her heartbeat, seeing her brows drawn and a light frown on her lips as she concentrated…

Adrenaline and impulse guided Chief to place a quick kiss on Cinnabar’s lips. It was a good thing that the bodyguard had already cleared out the nearby Corruptors or this could’ve proved a fatal distraction; Cinnabar’s concentration immediately broke as she flushed tomato red, staring at Chief with mouth agape and eyes wide. She seemed at a loss for words – but judging by how she leaned in for another kiss, she wasn’t unhappy.

Kissing Cinnabar didn’t happen often, despite everything, so Chief found herself cherishing whenever it did from then on. The kisses were far from perfect – neither of them had relationship experience before so figuring the whole technique out was a process of trial and error – but it was them, and that was what mattered.

Of course, Cinnabar brought Chief along whenever she went to visit Serpent Eye, and Chief was quickly accepted as part of the family. Though both she and Cinnabar blushed whenever someone joked about the two of them marrying, which they did often – remarking on how lucky Cinnabar was to “have a wife as perfect as this” was a common one that neither of them ever got used to.

[levisonlylover]

Nothing's new.

Inspired by the song

TW: Angst, Self-harm, Suicide, Fighting, mention of Death, Fem!reader x a bit ooc Levi

A/N: feeling angsty, might feel cute later. Probably making this a series

Part 1/2

Slanted words: Levi

Normal words: you

(idk how to describe it, ffs)

--------------------------------------------------------------

Nothing's new, that's what you would describe it. After every mission, You'd come home either dreaded, injured, or sick. You could see the dead comrades around you, it was tiring. You could just wish that it'd be you every time that someone dies, because you knew that you've served your purpose. Well that's what you thought, It's been years, nothing changed. You try to cope in healthy ways, but it always ends with a blade on your wrist, blood slowly dripping. You were either seen with bandages on your arms, the scouts tend to be worried about you, especially Levi. Levi never admits that you held some sentimental value to him, he thinks it was weak of him. One night, you had enough, You went to that one abandoned building outside the walls, you saw how beautiful the sky was.

"Wow..And here I thought I would never see such beauty."

You said as you exhale, You look at the sky then below the ground, the height was high, but with the amount of experience you had with the ODM gear says otherwise. You took off your gear and jacket and threw it on the ground, for some reason there were tears in your eyes.

"why am I crying? Isn't this what I wanted.."

You muttered under your breath. Before you could take that one leap of a step, you heard someone behind you.

"Stop! Don't you dare take another step..!"

It was a familiar voice.

"Y/N please..! Spare your life."

You looked behind you, it was Levi. Why was he here?

"let's talk, please. Just step off the ledge"

Why was he begging? You step off from the ledge and look at him, when you thought he was calm, you were wrong.

"Levi, why are you-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he instantly yelled

"what the hell..!? Why are you ending your life? Why are you hiding all this pain as if nothing happened!"

Your eyes widened up, you clenched your jaw trying to hold back the tears

"you don't understand Levi-"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N. Why don't you open up to us? To..me?"

"Because it isn't easy! You know the times I have been used because I keep opening up?! Tell me, do you think you can easily trust somebody after knowing people can use the darkest shit to manipulate you?"

He was stunned, suddenly tears left your eyes. You were breaking down. You were angry, upset, in disbelief. God, Levi felt a sense of guilt and sadness. Almost breaking his cold facade.

"Nothings new, Levi. Everyday we face death, We never know when we will fucking die..or when our own comrades die."

Levi couldn't say anything. It was true, you were facing death everyday with your comrades, not knowing when your last day was.

"Y/N, that doesn't mean you would just let your life go."

After that cold night, Levi took you to his quarters, he may hate the feeling of having people over. But that night, you were an exception. He made some tea and let you open up to him, knowing that your words are safe from him. People keep saying Levi is a cold person, almost having no heart. But you could say the opposite.

"Just because life doesn't go your way. Doesn't mean there's another path waiting.."

"God that was corny, change it!"

You laugh, he lets out a chuckle. How will this end? Will you finally open up, or close off your heart once again till it piles up and pours out.

[ltwilliammowett]

The case of the Mignonette

"Attention it is about cannibalism"

In 1844, an Australian lawyer John Henry Want, eager to impress his fellow sailors back home, bought an aging but primarily British yacht named Mignonette in England. There he found a crew to sail the ship from Southampton to Sydney, inadvertently securing the fate of four men: Thomas Dudley, Edwin Stephens, Edmund Brooks and Richard Parker.

Sketch of English Yacht Mignonette by Tom Dudley (1853-1900)

As the Mignonette sailed towards the Cape of Good Hope, a fierce storm blew up. The yacht, built of rotten wood, sank within minutes. In their haste, the four sailors took refuge in a four-metre long dinghy with two cans of turnips but no water. The dinghy drifted westwards, towards South America, some 3,000 kilometres away. But without water, the continent offered little salvation. Days turned into weeks, and the men grew weaker and weaker. In such desperate situations, sailors invoke the seafaring custom of casting lots to decide who will be sacrificed for food so that their comrades can survive. But rather than leave it to chance, Captain Dudley and his first mate Stephens decided that Parker, a 17-year-old orphan and Cabin Boy who had become delirious after drinking seawater, was the obvious choice. Dudley stabbed Parker to death, and the three remaining men feasted on the young man's flesh. Only four days later, the German Bark Montezuma rescued the survivors. Back in England, Dudley and Stephens were convicted of murder, although they were not the first sailors to resort to cannibalism. What set them apart, however, was that they departed from the customs of the sea by deciding for themselves which man should be killed and eaten - a presumptuous decision that Victorian England considered too encroaching and against all ethics and morals. But the survivors' story of desperation and the fact that Parker would probably have died anyway eventually aroused public sympathy, and Dudley and Stephens were spared the death penalty. They only had to serve six months in prison for killing the teenager.

What happened to Dudley and Stephens was enshrined in an infamous precedent in England that the taking of a life can never be justified - even if it is to save one's own life - and since then, compulsory cannibalism at sea has also been punishable - because it need not always be the case that the victim had already died before being eaten. A fact that had always been disregarded in other cases at the time and the people involved had therefore always been acquitted.

[sprout-fics]

Adjustment

(Price x F! Reader)

Call of Duty Masterlist

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 4k Tags: Dom/Sub, Dom Price, Sub Reader, BDSM, Non-sexual dominance, Impact play, Spanking, Masochism, Pain kink, Safe Sane Consensual, Crying during play, Aftercare, Cuddling, Soft Price Warnings: Please mind the tags A/N: The Price Spanking Fic nobody asked for

When Price calls you to his office this evening, you know exactly why.

It’s been a week since your last mission, the one you were in charge of, the one that went wrong. Faulty intel, no one’s fault except your informant, one who’s reward for his neglect had been a bullet to his face. It was nothing less than a bloody fucking miracle you and your team had gotten out alive, though not unscathed. Two of your squad were still in medical a week later, in good spirits but still injured. On your watch. 

The mission rattled you more than you expected it to. It’s not your first time leading a team into less than perfect circumstances, but it is the first time it went this rotten. Your nerves are frayed, pent up, unable to uncoil from the stress of the whole situation. Thankfully you’d not been raked over the coals by your CO, but you almost wish you had been, as if the reprimands and stern lashing would provide some sort of needed outlet to your strained, taut emotions.

As it stands, you hadn’t gotten that much, had instead been trying to find ways to deal despite that. The result had you chewing the heads off recruits, snapping at your teammates, tackling the obstacles course, pacing the perimeter of base in a desperate attempt to cool off. Even so, it wasn’t working, and you know that, know you need to find a better method of taming the roiling sensation of uneasiness inside you. Yet your chosen method, the thing that helped, felt simultaneously desperately needed and horrifically indulgent, a guilty pleasure that was more guilt than anything else. 

So you buckled down, brushed people off when they checked on you, gritted your teeth with murmurs of “I’m fine.” and didn’t stay around to listen to them object. 

It had only been when Soap had gently approached you in the mess hall, in that soft but stubborn way of his when he knew something was wrong that you snapped. The hurt that had flashed across the sergeant’s face when you practically snarled at him was evident, angered and pained. Yet Soap limped away with his tail between his legs, likely knowing there wasn’t much he could help with, and very likely went straight to Price’s office to report on your viperous demeanor. 

It had taken less than an hour for you to get the message from Price.

My office. 9pm.

Which is where you stood now, at 8:59, looking at the seconds on your watch tick down until your fated arrival, just to be spiteful. 

You knock less than sixty seconds later, and the voice on the other side almost immediately beckons you inside. 

He’s sitting at his desk, idly glancing over paperwork, a glass of whiskey half drained on his desk. Condensation collects on it, drips down onto the coaster he’s meticulously placed so it doesn’t stain the wood. Your eyes fall on it, standing at a lazy parade rest, avoiding the stare he levels at you from under the brim of his hat.

“Lock the door.”

The tenor of his voice is less gruff and more commanding, demanding deference, offering a vague warning should you not obey.

Ah. So it’s going to be one of those evenings. You think to yourself, reaching behind you and clicking the lock shut with a noise that speaks of imminent consequences. There’s a low, apprehensive murmur of excitement tracing under your skin, one that trails up your spine in a shiver you swallow down, don’t allow him to see. 

It’s infrequent, this thing you have with the captain. A relationship, a still blossoming one, yes- but also something darker, a little more depraved, something to indulge in your mutual urges with each other. It’s always a little present, some days more than others. Around the rest of your comrades he’s no different to you, but when their backs are turned it’s his hand on your nape, giving the smallest amount of delicious pressure that speaks of dominance, possession.

“Come here.”

You pad over, feeling a familiar, low stirring sensation in your gut at the tone of your captain. Firm, unquestionable, a touch severe but only in a way that was meant to be listened.

You come to rest just short of his knees, as he shifts in his chair to face you. Your hands still rest behind you, held in a taut grip he can’t see. When he speaks, you struggle to meet his eyes, struggle to keep your face placid, unreadable. 

“Have you been avoiding me?”

“No.” You respond almost instantly, a rapid response that you internally wince at because you know he can see straight through it.

“Hm.” He offers in return, and you only grimace harder.

“Have I done anything to deserve that?” Price asks, temperate, even, and the utter control in it sometimes scares you only because you know exactly what lies beneath. 

“No, Sir.”

That, at least, is the truth. You have been avoiding him, and Price can see that plain as day. Yet the reason lies not with him but with yourself, your stubbornness to soldier on, to refuse help, to buckle down in the worst of ways until the issue naturally works its way out of your system. Unfortunately for you, Price’s keen eyes pick upon even the smallest subtleties in you. It’s an insight he’s developed from years of service, one you haven’t yet found yourself, often leaving the man before you a series of mysteries. You’ll unravel them with time, you think, trust him to deliver the unknowns piece by piece until there’s either nothing left.

“Care to explain what happened with Soap earlier?” He goes on, and you stiffen noticeably, shoulders rising and back straightening, a little ashamed but also guilty at what transpired earlier. The words of it clog your throat, try and force their way upwards. 

You could tell him, confess to him why you’re acting the way you are, ask him for what you need. Yet there’s a little poisonous spite bubbling inside you, one that wants him to force it out of you, wants to push against him rebelliously if only to reap the consequences.

You look him in the eyes, stubbornly refusing to break your gaze. 

“No Sir.” 

It’s more than a little perfunctory, a little biting, but it feels good to see the way Price’s eyes narrow at your tone. There’s a hunger behind them, pupils dark and focused, like he’s staring at something he wants to take apart.

“I think someone needs an adjustment.” Price declares, voice a low growl that’s still within the realm of warning, not yet dipping to the point of no return. It’s just enough, scratches something in your hindbrain that asks for more. More.

You watch as the captain scoots his chair back from where he sits, legs spread wide. For a moment you think he wants you between them, until one large, calloused palm pats against his thigh. 

“Over my knee, darling.”

This is familiar to you, and you’ve spent more than one evening, more than one afternoon in the same place that he instructs you. Now, however, you hesitate, stubbornness crossing your expression, biting down on an objection that you’re fine. You don’t need this. Yet you know Price would see right through that too, and you’re not about to safeword out of a release if you can get one. Not if it’s him. 

“Don’t make me ask twice.” He warns, eyes unblinking, and even though you still want to object you at last gingerly drape yourself across his knees, ass upwards.

Price is quick to scoot down your pants, revealing the tender skin of your bottom to his gaze. You jolt at his hand that smoothes across the flesh appreciatively.

“You’re not going to count.” He tells you softly, firmly. “You can use your colors if you need them, but otherwise we’ll be done when I say we’re done. Understood?”

You don’t answer, biting your lip, still fighting it. Price’s hand stills, and then grips against your ass, voice now a clear warning, frustration growing at your clear lack of communication.

“Understood, Sergeant?” He prompts again, and this time you nod, focus down on the floor with a small and breathy “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

With that, Price’s hand comes down. Hard.

Pain blooms against your skin and you yelp, quick to cover your mouth lest the surrounding offices hear you. It’s late, most of the base is in bed, and the chances of someone finding you are slim. Even so, you know better than to risk it. 

Price soothes a hand against the skin, offering no murmurs or hums to ease the pain. Instead, you feel his hand pull away, and you suck in a breath, ready for the next slap.

It’s only once you’ve released, dared to glance at him that Price’s hand comes down on the opposite cheek. You jolt forward, a little cry of surprise escaping you once more. 

Price is slow, methodical. There’s a precision to him that’s fine tuned with experience, an unrelenting focus to his task at hand that has your gut clenching with a distant flicker of need. Each impact of his hand leaves a stinging, needed deliverance that gives a more than welcome distraction to the festering frustration inside of you.

Price gives you a few breaths between each slap, just enough to collect yourself before his palm comes down in a devastating collision. It doesn’t take long for your ass to warm under his touch, a little raw, making you bite back a hiss as he takes moments to idly stroke it with a tender touch that’s an unnerving contrast to the impacts he offers. 

You lay rigid, balancing tightly, muscles coiled and resistant. You’re still fighting it, can’t let go just yet, doggedly refusing to allow yourself to release the tension in your form. It presses down on the small of your back with the bracing touch of Price’s arm, lays thick in your shoulders as you teeth your lip bloody and try not to make any noise. 

It’s not enough. You’re still wound far too tight, shoulders scrunched, body rigid, and as Price’s hand comes down once more in a smack that feels thunderous, you can’t help but flinch. 

“Mm. That’s not good enough, love.” He rumbles after the next few impacts, with you stubbornly biting your lip to prevent any sounds from escaping. A hand kneads the stinging flesh of your ass and you groan a little at the pain, but don’t raise your voice, don’t move from your position over his lap. 

You feel Price pause, adjust, and soon one of your wrists is hauled behind your back, then the other, as you’re forced to sag your entire weight against him. It releases some of the tension in your form, but it only manifests itself in a squirming resistance that has Price huff a little displeased sound down at you.

Price’s hand settles on your nape as you squirm, and the simple act of scruffing you has goosebumps rising across your flesh, body seizing with a sharp intake of air. You tremble, skin electrifying under his touch. Every synapse feels too bright, too hot, and when his thumb presses against the underside of your jaw you give him a full body shudder that vibrates into his hand. Yet all Price offers you in return is a single, growling demand that pulls at something deep, primal inside your ribcage.

“Settle.”

Just like that, you feel yourself loosen abruptly, going completely still, muscles sagging as if Price just snapped the strings holding you aloft. Your body goes lax, limp, head dropping forward in surrender, and Price hums a rumbling, approving noise that makes you keen.

“Very good.”

With that, he resumes.

The spanks come quicker now, with devastating accuracy, rapid fire and heavy. It takes a few impacts for you to stop holding your breath, let your eyes open and unfocus on the floor in front of you. There’s a warm, velvety haze beginning to fog over your senses now. It cottons your thoughts, muffles the world around you, allows that previous resistance inside you to slowly begin to ease. 

The pain feels good.

Little moans start spilling past your lips, and you slowly stop trying to silence them. The sting of Price’s hand settles low in your belly, licks a tender flame into your core. A murmur of arousal resides there, fueled by the profound act of surrender. The utter, encompassing trust that resides between you and him in this regard is a tonic unlike any other. It lets you fall completely into yourself, submitting to where he wants to lead you, knowing he’ll ground you, keep you safe, give you not exactly what you want, but what you need.

Price can sense the way you’re unwinding, can feel the noises from you now, a little louder, more breathless, lips parting with shuddering gasps. He pauses after a particularly harsh smack, allowing the knuckles of his hand to rest against the top of your ass. Not moving, just resting. Not finished yet. 

“You wanted this but didn’t know how to ask, isn’t that right, love?” He asks, and it takes you a moment, but you nod. Hell, you’re not sure why you didn’t ask for this sooner. You know he’d give it if you asked while you’re wound up like this, would find a way to unravel you at the seams and let the cotton, soft, sinking feeling envelop you and offer you a much needed respite. 

“Color?” He prods gently, and you’re already so warmly out of it for a moment that you have to remember how to answer him. 

“Green.”

Price grunts, satisfied, and his knuckles trace over the raw, swollen skin of your flesh before his hand turns over again. 

He doesn’t ask if you’re ready, and this time you don’t bother to tense before his hand comes down. It’s less this time, the impacts not enough to shatter you the way they did before, but the pain is still enough to make you droop forward, release an exhale that loosens your shoulders all the way down. You’re already feeling it, can already feel the stress being sapped away along with your resistance, but you know Price won’t be satisfied until the thing that was holding it in the first place snaps inside you, makes you surrender completely. 

“Doing well. Just a little more.” He urges, and you whimper.

You don’t know if you can take more. You’re already kind of floaty, it already scratches that needed itch under your skin, but you know there’s so much more you can offer him.

At last it comes loose, a sob startles from your throat at it being so much, and it seems to open the floodgates. You inhale a long, shuddering breath as Price pauses, and when it releases it’s as an unsteady, whimpering sigh that dissolves into another sob. Price kneads your ass and the pain forces another cry from your throat until you shudder with it, and begin to cry in earnest. 

“That’s it. Very good. Let it go.” He urges, voice soothing, tender, firm in the way you need him to be so he can hold up the sagging, collapsed form of you. 

The crying is cathartic, a week of pent up emotion and stress at last simmering to the surface and leaking down your face in hot, wet tears. It’s not at the sting of pain, not at any type of unwillingness or shame. Instead it’s like unplugging a drain, allowing the tepid surface of stress inside you to circle downwards, allowing the utter vulnerability of being like this to sink away the thing that had been holding you back from your own emancipation. Every single remaining ounce of tension in your body sags away, and you droop over Price’s lap with your head tucked forward, chest rattling with thick, sobbing cries. 

Fuck, it feels good.

The complete and utter release of the tension in your form has your breath collapse from your lungs, sends hot, fat tears rolling down your face in an all too needed exoneration of the troubled tightness that was held in your form. Even as your chest shutters there’s a strange, serene calm that washes over you at the act of finally, finally letting go.

It isn’t over, because Price delivers several more harsh, stinging slaps, as if to shake the rest of it loose from you, until he at last relents. He braces an arm over the small of your back, murmuring a small “Steady.” as you shudder. Face tipped forward, the trails of tears on your face drip down from your chin onto the floor. A hand gently strokes the stinging, swollen flesh of your ass, and despite the smarting it’s grounding, keeping you leveled from the tempting descent of rumination that lies in the back of your mind. 

“You did well.” Price tells you at last, when your cries have begun to ease, and it stutters a little whine from you, the praise a balm to your slightly overwhelmed senses. He waits until you settle a bit more before shifting, and soon you find yourself tucked in his lap, head braced against his chest. You stay there, sniffling, moving to rub at your face, but Price keeps your hand on your lap where it is, a thumb grazing over your knuckles. His voice is low as he offers soft little hushes and murmurs into you, words of praise and reassurance that allow the tears to ebb and make your eyes flutter shut. 

You sink, allow yourself to go limp in his arms, with him balancing you and supporting your weight so you can stay in the moment of letting go. One arm braces you, the other holding you fast against his chest where you drink in his musky, heavy scent. Tobacco, gun powder, just a hint of cologne he tries to use to cover the scent of his cigars. It clouds over your senses, sends you down into that blissful state of fuzzy, ambiguous relaxation you’ve craved so desperately since the mission. It’s complete bliss, being able to just be here, in his arms, fresh off a much needed bout of crying and feeling the world fade away so it’s just you, him, and the offerings of smoky praise he breathes into your ear. You float, entirely and blessedly unaware, trusting him to keep you in his arms, to keep you safe, to allow you space for this much needed reprieve.

You don’t know how long you stay down like that. Eventually your hiccups fade into stuttering little breaths, and soon you synchronize your inhales and exhales with the long, steady rise and fall of the captain’s chest. Fatigue wears down on your form, and soon your cottoned, muffled senses give way to a sleepy, comfy kind of softness that has you exhale a long, final sigh against him. 

“Back with me?” He asks at last, and you aren’t sure if it’s been mere minutes or hours, too droopy and exhausted to tell. You nod, still a little too hazy to find words, giving him a non-committal, lethargic grumble that has a huff of laughter blowing against your skin. 

“Take your time, darling.” He tells you, and you nod once more, let your eyes flutter shut and head loll against his chest just a little longer. 

Eventually you feel the world begin to seep back into your senses, and you shift on his lap, hissing at the scrape of your bare ass against his cargo pants.

“Easy.” He tells you, voice dipping with a hint of that sternness again, and you force yourself to still from your wriggling. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Price’s voice finally inquires, and you hesitate, afraid it will all come rushing back the moment you say it all aloud. Yet you remind yourself that you’re safe here, in his arms, that even if you did feel tension and panic rise up again in your chest that Price will ease you back down again.

So it comes spilling loose with an unsteady sigh. The frantic realizations of the mission when it turned sour, the terror as you watched your team members come under fire, hauling them to safety and narrowly avoiding injury yourself. Needing to be strong for them, keeping your mounting horror clamped down as you frantically radioed for ex-fil. Waiting for the chopper as you felt warm blood gush over your palms, rasped reassurances to them, held their hands with red-stained gloves as they were hauled out of the battlefield. Getting back to base and asking yourself what you did, what happened, how you didn’t anticipate this, trying desperately to tell yourself that at least you made it all back alive. 

The tears don’t come back. You’re far too spent for that, instead imbuing yourself in the sensation of Price stroking your arm steadily as you ramble, emptying your chest of worries. You don’t know how long it takes, but Price remains silent, steady, a lighthouse in the fog as you surrender to him. Eventually the heavy pauses between your words grow longer, until there’s only silence that remains between you both. 

“None of that was your fault, love.” He reminds you at last. 

“I know.” You provide after a moment. “I just…” A clinging thickness lingers in your throat, and you swallow it, unfocused eyes lazily resting on the broad planes on his chest. 

“I was scared.”

Price sighs, and it isn’t unkind or pitying. It feels more like a release of himself too, allowing you to nuzzle into the emptiness the air leaves behind in his chest. “I know love. But you did well, got your team out, got those lads home alive.”

You nod, and if he had said that an hour earlier you think you would have fought him on it. Now, the words feel like pure, cathartic relief that soothes cooly through your veins. 

Silence once again falls over you both as Price allows you to come back to yourself. It’s only once you shift, look up at him that his face turns down towards you, eyebrows raised. 

“Solid?”

You nod, a little firmer now, but relaxed, open. “Solid.” You confirm, and oh. You missed that too, the rare, tender smile he gives you. It’s different than the usual wry, amused nature of him, reserved only for moments like this, where the world of gunshots and explosions, of broken bones and helicopters fades into the quiet solitude of just you both. 

You relish it as long as you can before it fades, and Price tilts his head down at you to stare under his brows with a stern, admonishing, unblinking stare. 

“You’ll come to me before you decide to start biting other people’s heads off. Understood?” He professes rather than inquires, and you wither a little, remorseful, knowing better than to break eye contact with him as you nod, adding an obligatory “Yes, Sir.” for good measure.

“Good girl.” He rumbles, and it has you shiver a little, never immune to the way those words send your blood coursing a little higher in your veins. “Took it well. Always do.”

“Thank you Sir.” You breathe, happy and content, pleased at the act of pleasing him.

“Do you need to…?” You turn to ask, shifting a little on his lap to feel the half-hard bulge in his trousers. Price only chuckles, shakes his head. 

“We can worry about that later, love.” He promises, and that makes your eyes widen, sit a little straighter where you sit on him, eager and interested in the offer. Price notices instantly, levels you with a knowing amusement that has his lips curl. “That is, if you want to.” and you duck your head a little, a little abashed at being so very easy to read, but nod. 

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” You ask quietly.

“Manners.” Price reprimands fondly

“Please?”

He grumbles, feigning begrudging exasperation at the request, and it only has you grin at him, the first smile in what feels like a very, very long time.

“Of course darling.”

[sithbvcky]

CHARADE

Inspired by the film "The Man From U.N.C.L.E", after learning of your estranged father's nefarious ties to an underground organization, you find yourself caught in the middle of two enemy spies and a whole lot of trouble. Bucky x Female!Reader. Warnings: Language, typical spy violence Word count: 642

PROLOGUE Fanfic Playlist

ROME

You arrived in Rome arm in arm with the strange man you’d met a few days prior. He was stern and quiet. A man of few words. You checked into the beautiful hotel, Sam following behind you a few hours later. You and the man, who’d you learned you were to call James, had been sitting in the lobby when he arrived. A few moments after, James took your arm again and lead you out of the hotel for a stroll through Rome. As a young couple visiting Italy would do. You admired the engagement ring James had given you on the way over. It was a sparkling little diamond, you had to admit you liked the way it looked on you. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, as you walked down the Spanish Steps. James replied with more emotion than you’d heard from him, 

“The same place every architect goes when they visit Rome.” He started. “To see the sights.” He waved his hand before him.

“So Mr. Architect, I’m sure you’ve done your homework. Why don’t you tell me a bit about the steps?”  You pulled your arm from his as you reached the bottom of the steps. Stopping to face him as you waited for his response. James looked around awkwardly for a moment before beginning,

“Good question.” He paused, moving to keep walking as you followed at his side. “The steps were constructed in 1723, credited to Italian architects.” He stopped, as you stepped forward onto the border of the fountain. 

“Really, built by a Russian.” He stated proudly. You shot him a look and he continued. “Sergei Ivanov. Sergei also had his mother, Yagada, who introduced him to classical architecture. Whom, he revered as his muse. Unfortunately for Sergei, his mother died in the middle of construction. So! In memory of his beloved Yagada, he made one step to commemorate every year of his mothers life.” His finished, a proud smile on his face. 

“So she died as 135?” You asked. James blinked, 

“No. She died at 100, he was 35. So, 135 steps.” He crossed his hands behind his back as you glared at him.

“Impressive.” You paused a moment. “So she gave birth at the age of 65?” The smile slowly began to fall from James’ face. 

“No.” He muttered, defeated. 

Not a moment later, Sam rolled up on a yellow moped and stopped, pretending to look at the fountain. 

“Evening Comrade.” Sam said. James frowned, 

“You’re not supposed to be making contact in public” 

“You’re being followed.” Sam stated, ignoring James completely. You looked over in interest. 

“I know, two men from the hotel lobby. One in a brown suit the other in a leather jacket. Which is why you should leave.” James retorted with annoyance. 

“They diverted when you turned down the steps. So, I imagine they’ll be waiting ahead for you.” Sam continued, once again ignoring James’ concern. 

“I will handle them.” He said. 

“Handle… just to avoid any confusion, you do mean give them your wallet and act scared.”

“Scared?!” James protested, glaring at Sam. 

“What’s going on?” You asked, sliding up to the other side of James. 

“You’re being tested. Someone is trying to make sure that your fiancé is really an architect, and not someone who’s trained how to fight. Ex-KGB agent for example.” Sam explained, staring off at some distant object.

“I said you are not needed here.” James growled, staring daggers at Sam.

“I think you should do as he says.” You chimed in, tapping your foot uneasily. James met your eyes for a moment then rolled them before looking back to Sam who began to speak again. 

“And remember, take it like a bitch.” He smirked. 

“This is not the way.” James grumbled, grabbing your arm and pulling you in the opposite direction of Sam. 

Tags:

@mostlymarvelgirl

[er1chartmann]

Ernst Rohm

These are some facts and curiosities about Ernst Rohm, The Head of the SA:

He was born on 28th of November, 1887 in Munich.

Although born to a family of state officials and without military traditions, he was a soldier by choice and vocation. His phrase remained famous: "war and unrest attract me more than good bourgeois order".

At the outbreak of the First World War (1914-1918), Röhm served at the front as adjutant of the 1st Battalion of the 10th König Infantry Regiment and the following month was seriously wounded in the face during combat in the Chanot woods in Lorraine. In April 1915 he was promoted to lieutenant and on 20 June 1916 he was decorated with the Iron Cross first class.

At the end of the conflict he returned to Germany where he participated in the ranks of the groups of ex-combatants (freikorps) in the fight against the Bavarian Soviet Republic, proclaimed in Munich after the assassination of its inspirer, Kurt Eisner. Later, he joined the Reichswehr, coming into contact with the extreme nationalist Right.

He addressed Hitler by name and as 'you', the only Nazi to whom this privilege had been conferred.

In 1923 he took part in the Beer Hall Putsch. Shortly afterwards, in 1925, following some conflicts with Hitler, he broke off relations with the leader, agreeing to go to Bolivia to join the local army as a military instructor.

Called home expressly by Hitler in November 1930 to reorganize the SA following the unrest within it, Röhm threw himself enthusiastically into the new task: 170,000 in 1930, in 1933 the SA came to count more than two million members, taking a position of implicit rivalry towards the army.

He was capable of publicly ridiculing Rosemberg's pseudo-mystical ''Aryan philosophy'', causing embarrassment to those who, like Himmler, believed in this philosophy.

He had no respect for those who did not wear uniform and openly despised German civilians whom he dismissed as pigs.

Röhm joined Hitler's first government and was appointed Reichsleiter, the highest position within the NSDAP.

The moment of reckoning came in the summer of 1934, when the Führer received the news, secretly but officially, that the days of the old president, Paul von Hindenburg, were numbered. Hitler himself planned to succeed Hindenburg as president of the Reich, unifying the two positions of president and chancellor in his person and thus making his dictatorship legal and effective.

Hitler needed the immediate support of the army and knew well that, to support his bid for absolute power, it required the sacrifice of Röhm and the SA.

Forced into this difficult position, he absolutely needed a valid pretext to attack Röhm and his former comrades. Röhm's main enemies - Hermann Göring and Heinrich Himmler - took care to provide it to him, assuring him that they had proof that the SA was preparing to carry out a coup d'état against the Reich government, to thus hasten the completion of the "Second Revolution". Most likely it was not true, but Hitler believed - or wanted to believe - the version of his two main lieutenants and ordered them to crush Röhm's putsch.

He died on 1 July 1934 following the night of the long knives.

Sources:

Wikipedia: Ernst Rohm

Paul Roland: Hitler and his Loyalist

if you don't like it go with your life :))

I DON'T SUPPORT NAZISM, FASCISM OR ZIONISM IN ANY WAY, THIS IS AN EDUCATIONAL POST

[nanaosaki3940]

Korean Manhwa/Webtoon Recommendation List (Romance-Fantasy Genre)

I recently got into the romance-fantasy (rofan) genre of Korean manhwa/webtoons and wanted to make a recommendation list about it. This is a recommendation list but I want to briefly talk about some newly released rofan manhwa that I really liked.

(My recommendation list will be divided into different categories so you'll be able to understand what kind of stories they are...)

So recently, I got into these newly released rofan manhwas:

The Wicked Ladies in Waiting 

The Promise Isn't Mine 

Turning the Mad Dog into a Genteel Lord 

Fallen to Paradise 

I Swear We're Just Friends 

Please Don’t Reply!

High Society 

The Wicked Ladies in Waiting

Yulia, who was born an orphan, was killed in exchange for falling in love with the Young Master of the Marjoram Family and was left on a snowy mountain. But when she opened her eyes, at the same location as any other day, she was rescued by the Commander of the Imperial Army, Carus. She was hit by a curse of being unable to die, and this is now her 8th life. After realizing that she would be stuck in the loop forever if she didn't take down the Marquis, she became a servant (2nd prince's lady-in-waiting) within the Palace to utilize the Royal Family’s power to demolish the Marjoram Family in her 8th life. I really love both the FL and the ML here. At first, the ML was suspicious of her when she revealed the truth to him in her 8th life that she had regressed back to the past 8 times, and each and every time she died in various ways, she encountered the ML and he somehow always tried to save her each and every life (even though he doesn't have the memories of his previous 7 lives like the FL). To make him believe her, she offered him help by predicting some future events that were going to occur later on because she had already seen or known about those events from her previous 7 lives. In this way, the FL saved the ML and his comrades' lives in this 8th life, and because of that the ML believed her regression story and offered to help her lifetime. Their relationship progressed well from suspicious strangers to trustful allies. Although we haven't seen much of them yet, I'm still waiting for some romance and fluff to happen in their relationship. The 2nd prince whom she works for and the 1st lady-in-waiting who is her colleague are also interesting characters and have immediately become the FL's good friends and strong allies just like the ML. The FL is strong, smart, and lovable, and the whole revenge plot is really interesting. You would love to see her succeed in her missions. Highly recommend this manhwa/webtoon.

The Promise Isn't Mine

When her twin sister Leyla, the Holy Maiden, suddenly disappears one day, the ordinary Elena finds herself having to marry Crown Prince Kyle, a man infamous for his ruthlessness, in her stead. After a dreadful marriage ceremony, Kyle demands that a certain promise be fulfilled, to Elena’s confusion. Elena and Kyle are actually childhood sweethearts btw. They've both been in love with each other since their younger days. The ML immediately realized who she was, but she didn't recognize him; although she does vaguely remember him from her past, but doesn't know that the man she married is the same boy from her teenage days. I can't wait for her to realize who he actually is; that he's her childhood sweetheart. Also, it's kinda funny how the ML and FL look like Iske and Ruby from "How To Win Over My Husband". However, this ML is a whole lot different from Iske since the ML is genuinely nice, kind, and caring towards the FL from day one. And not to mention that he's still in love with her and immediately recognizes her after meeting her so many years later again. Highly recommend this series.

Turning the Mad Dog into a Genteel Lord

Diarin, a priestess without any noteworthy family background or connections, always gets the toughest assignments. So when her boss tells her to help Ceres, a war hero, reintegrate into society, she decides to stop being a pushover and get as much as she can out of it, including a juicy promotion. But upon reaching Ceres’ manor, she’s greeted by a growling hound instead of a human. Tasked with the impossible job of turning the mad dog into a proper gentleman, she dedicates herself to caring for him. But his unexpected obsession with her was never part of her plan. This one is my No. 1 personal favorite at the current moment!! You can tell by the pictures how funny and hilarious this series is. I won't tell you guys anything more. Just go and read this one as quick as possible!! STRONGLY recommend this series!!!

Fallen to Paradise

Ange, the daughter of Duke Glaster, believes her life is all planned out as she is set to marry Philip Cardiner, the rightful heir to the throne. However, her plans are disrupted when Philip's brother, William Cardiner, schemes against him and removes him from the line of succession. In order to secure his power, William forces Ange to marry Aiden Fitzroy, an illegitimate child born between the emperor and a commoner. Will Ange learn to love the humble stranger she was forced to marry? Another hilarious yet very cute manhwa!! At first, the FL didn't like the fact that she was getting married off to the illegitimate son of the emperor and that the ML lived in the countryside and was also a farmer. The ML also found her a nuisance in the beginning because of her whining and throwing tantrums, but as time went on and they started to understand each other, they began to fight less and tried to get along. Romance also started to blossom between the two as they went on with their lives in the countryside on the farm by planting crops and vegetables and raising cows and pigs. I love how the FL, who was the Duke's daughter and was once the next crown princess, is now just a military officer/farmer's wife, and yeah sure, in the beginning, she used to complain about everything and anything, but she quickly went through a major character development, and now instead of whining and throwing tantrums, she tries to understand her husband and even willingly participates in the farming works. The ML was cold at first and found her annoying, but eventually he also later tried to understand her and her situation and started warming up to her. Very cute manhwa!! Highly recommend this!!

I Swear We're Just Friends

When Rienne transfers to the elite Alena Academy, she never expects Karcion, the most popular mage in school, to recruit her into his club and she definitely doesn't think he'll fall for her! But the grumpy Karcion soon makes it clear how much he adores her, and she starts finding him too cute to ignore. Still, he's a future duke and she's a commoner, so Rienne knows his feelings won't last. Can Karcion magic his way out of the friendzone? Or will Rienne prove they're just friends after all? A typical high school setting kinda story with enemies to lovers troupe; the only twist is that it's a historical fantasy story, not your typical modern high school romance. The FL is a cool smart girl and I loved her from the start. Meanwhile, at first, the ML is also shown to be this cool smart dude and is very popular in school but later it is revealed that he's actually a big tsundere crybaby and is very expressive when showing emotions which makes the FL want to tease him more and more whenever they interact. Since it's a high school romance in a historical fantasy setting, it has a different spin to it and has made the read very much enjoyable which was unexpected. Definitely check this one out! Highly recommend this series.

Please Don't Reply!

What’s worse than someone who leaves you on read? How about someone who doesn’t know when to end the conversation? Mira Hexen is cursed to always be the last one to reply for a whole year or she will be turned to stone. But that’s a bit difficult when you’re the chief of a company that produces a massively successful messaging device. Mira’s latest VIP client is Euryx Deyra, an extremely friendly duke who feels the need to respond to every little thing she says. If only she could just tell him to shut up already...! By reading the synopsis you can already tell where this story is going. Read only 4 chapters and found it really cute, funny, and wholesome. Definitely worth checking out. Highly recommend this as well!!

High Society

While scheming to get out of an arranged marriage, Cesare runs into Adele, a shoeshine girl from the slums. The two make a 3-month deal to help Cesare elude marriage. However, Adele is so different from the women he's met before that he can't help but be drawn to her. Okay, so this series might not be everyone's cup of tea since the ML is a super red flag, and the FL is kinda like a doormat. Sure she fights back from time to time, but since she's under a contract with the ML and he's the Duke of a powerful ducal family, she always can't say anything she wants to him. At first, the ML didn't care that much about her and didn't see her as a woman with whom he could have a potential romantic relationship but as time went on, he fell more for her beauty and personality, but there was a problem - the ML had already introduced the FL to the high society that she was his blood-related little sister. Now how could he have a romantic relationship with his so-called "blood-related little sister"? The thing is, the ML was trying to get out of this arranged marriage alliance that was set with this crazy woman from another powerful ducal family. But this marriage alliance was very important for political reasons and also to maintain a good relationship between those two families in the empire. But the ML didn't want to marry that crazy woman, so he found the FL (who was willing to help him out btw) on the streets one day, took her in, and used her as a shield to stay away from that marriage. How so? By offering the FL as the bride of that crazy woman's little brother. The FL would get married off to that crazy woman's brother while the ML won't have to marry that crazy woman anymore, and therefore with that, the alliance would still be made between the families without him getting married, of course. But what is he gonna do about this situation now that he's falling for the FL? Is he gonna let the FL go and let her get married to that crazy woman's little brother? Or is he gonna seduce her and make her his and only his?? The ML is super toxic and a huge red flag, but he's so fucking beautiful that I just can't, y'all!!! Like, look at his dimples OMG!!! Although the ML is super toxic and a major scumbag at times, the story is still super engaging not gonna lie. Highly recommend this to check it out!!

Also, here's the link to the photo gallery of Cesare Bonaparte, a toxic yet sexy and beautiful male lead - Link

Now the entire recommendation list I mentioned earlier:

Regression Genre (the FL goes back to the past):

The Fantasie of a Stepmother 

The Redemption of Earl Nottingham

Marriage of Convenience 

Baroness Goes on Strike 

Please Marry Me Again!

June Peach

Saving My Sweetheart 

My Sweet Enemy, Thy Name is Husband

I'm the Queen in This Life

I Am the Real One

The Contracted Grand Duchess 

The Villainess Lives Again 

The Taming of the Tyrant

Leveling Up My Husband to the Max

Why Are You Obsessed With Your Fake Wife? 

Adeline's Darkest Night

I Tamed My Ex-husband’s Mad Dog 

The Empress of Ashes 

The Tyrant Wants to Be Good 

The Duke's Bored Daughter is My Master 

Rewriting My Husband's Tragic Ending 

You Mustn't, Your Majesty! 

I Shall Master This Family 

My In-Laws Are Obsessed With Me 

The Villain’s Daughter Plans To Run Away 

The Grand Duke is Mine 

Seducing the Lady's Lover 

The Villainess Needs Her Tyrant 

Crazy Like a Fox 

So I Married the Abandoned Prince 

While I'm Back in Time, I'll Get My Revenge 

Are We Still in Love? 

I Accidentally Tamed the Duke 

I’m Done Being Your Best Friend 

I Tamed the Male Lead Who Tried to Kill Me 

The Villainess's Road to Revenge 

The Villainess Behind the Mask

The Crimson Lady

Please Obsess Over Me

Let Me Die in Peace!

Libera Me

What the Duke Picked Up in the Forest

Peony: Dreaming of the Dangerous Grand Duke

Reincarnation/Transmigration Genre (the FL is reincarnated/transmigrated into a novel/webtoon/otome game)

I Am the Villain (Sejji) 

My Little Tyrant

Secret Lady 

Not Your Typical Reincarnation Story

The Villainess is a Marionette

Author of My Own Destiny

Father, I Don't Want this Marriage

The Monster Male Lead Living Under My Bed

Behold the True Villainess

Beware the Villainess!

Villains are Destined to Die

I Fell Into a Reverse Harem Game!

I Met The Male Lead in Prison

An Extra Stole the Male Leads

I Will Become the Villain's Poison Taster

Elissa's Whirlwind Marriage

Fortune-Telling Lady

How to Win My Husband Over

The Villainess's Maker

Viola Tames the Duke

The Beloved Bashful Villainess

My Ray of Hope

Who Made Me a Princess?

The Heiress's Double Life

The Villainess's Blind Date Is Too Perfect

Why Raeliana Ended up at the Duke's Mansion

Writing My Male Lead's Happily Ever After 

Villain Duke's Precious One

My Sister Picked Up the Male Lead

I Bought Land, Not a Man!

Just the Male Lead's Friend

The Villainess Flips the Script!

I Met the Male Lead in Prison

The Viridescent Tiara

Philomel the Fake

I Married the Male Lead's Dad

The Villainess's Stationery Shop

The Rules of Rose Ivy Manor

The Tyrant's Only Perfumer

Your Ultimate Love Rival

I Hold the Tyrant's Heart

I’ll Become the Heroine in This Life

I Became the Tyrant's Dishonest Adviser

Divorcing My Tyrant Husband

Contractual Marriage to a Surly Duke

It Was Love at First Sight, Mr. Villain! 

Lia's Bad Ending

The Villainess Just Wants To Live In Peace!

How to Tame the Merciless Villain 

Grand Duke of the North 

The Monster Duke Mistook Me for His Wife

The Fake Saintess Awaits Her Exit 

The Terminally Ill Villainess Refuses Adoption 

Wicked No More 

I Became the Young Villain’s Sister-In-Law 

I Became the Villain's Mother 

I Became the Mother of the Evil Male Lead 

The Sea Captain's Bride 

Living as the Villain’s Stepmother 

The Rewards of Marriage

Flirting with The Villain's Dad

Childcare Diary With the Villain 

I Became The Stepmother Of An Irrevocable Dark Family

Beloved by the Male Lead's Nephew

I Ended Up Raising the Children of the Female Lead and Male Lead 

I've Become a True Villainess 

I Didn't Mean to Seduce the Male Lead!

Becoming the Obsessive Male Lead's Ex-Wife

My Personal Favorite Transmigration Stories:

Kill The Villainess

Charming the Duke of the North

The Strong Empress:

Remarried Empress 

I Abdicate My Title of Empress

FL as Knights:

The Age Of Arrogance 

The Night Without Shadows 

Runaway mothers:

How to Hide the Emperor's Child

The Vanished Duchess

Smutty or Spicy Goods:

Please Kill My Husband

Winter Wolf

Beast’s Flower 

Tempting My Salvation 

The Bondservant

Toxic MLs:

My Husband Who Hates Me Has Lost His Memories

Bitten By The Dog I Abandoned

The Mistress Runs Away 

The Problematic Prince 

Others:

I Belong to House Castielo

Obsidian Bride

It Was All a Mistake

My Secretly Hot Husband 

Taming the Marquess 

Royal Marriage

Lady Evony

A Royal Princess with Black Hair

When You're in Love

Raising My Fiancé with Money

Catherine's Key to a Happy Life 

Lips Upon a Sword's Edge 

Little Rabbit and the Big Bad Leopard

I Stan the Prince

Becoming the Lady of the Cursed Ducal House

Betrayal of Dignity 

My Beloved Oppressor 

Your Eternal Lies

What It Means To Be You

Lies Become You

The Psycho Duke and I 

From BFF to Obsessive Hubby

I Listened to My Husband and Brought In a Lover

My Husband Changes Every Night

The Elegant Sea of Savagery

My Unexpected Marriage 

Seducing the Monster Duke

The Duke's Cursed Charm

Here Comes the Silver Spoon! 

I Don’t Want to Be a Lady

Married to a Duke Called Beast

I Don't Love You Anymore

Disobey The Duke If You Dare

When Fate Finds Us 

Like A Wind On A Dry Branch 

The Price of a Broken Engagement

My Three Tyrant Brothers

Searching for My Father 

A Tipsy Marriage Proposal for the Emperor

The Villainess Empress's Attendant 

Trash Will Always Be Trash

The Last Straw

Carnephelia's Curse is Never Ending

To My Husband's Mistress 

Go Away, Romeo 

Ones that came out this 2024, but I haven't check them out yet (but I will do it very soon...):

A Beast Swallowed by a Flower

Traces of the Moon

I Was Tricked Into a Fraudulent Marriage by the Obsessive Villain

An Unexpected Proposal

No, I Only Seduced the Princess?

Until The Real One Shows Up

I’m Unmarried With a Time-Limited Lover

The Youngest is Trying to Prevent the End of the World

Reasons for Avoiding the Perfect Guy

Confined Together with the Horror Game’s Male Lead

I Became The Tutor of The Royal Twins

Till Divorce Do Us Apart

I Thought You Were A Time-Limited Husband

Now Come and Regret

The Villainess Captured the Grand Duke

Corrupting the Heroine’s First Love