#prince!gaz

[whinesandwhimpers]

meeting prince!gaz at a ball, beautiful brown eyes and that charming smile immediately pull you in, and next thing you know you two have snuck off to his chambers and he's balls deep inside you <3

[duncans-idahoe]

Knight! Ghost this, King! König that (hehe king-king, can we please give that man a fanon name??)

WHAT ABOUT PRINCE! GAZ???

On GOD if this man doesn’t get more recognition….

But I’m telling y’all I’ve been thinking about it all day like Gaz being the prince of a kingdom and he’s well loved by all his people

Like Knight! Price is highly regarded by the king, possibly captain of the guard, and started Prince! Gaz’s weapon/knight(?) training

And knight! Price DID NOT take it is easy on Gaz just because he was the prince. If anything Price pushed him harder than any of the other boys in training because as Price says, “An army is only as strong as it’s leader”

Gaz built a strong relationship with the knights and soldiers around the castle by spending so much time training with them, they all have a lot of respect for their Prince and would be honored to follow him into battle

Prince! Gaz loves tournaments, his favorite event??? JOUSTING

I’ve been thinking about it a lot, I mean A LOT (a couple months ago I was thinking about a knight!Ghost X Princess! Reader au and even then all I could think about was what a god Gaz would be at the joust)

Gaz loves the thrill of a roaring crowd, his stallion excitedly prancing under him, his opponent clear in his sights, and the satisfying break of his lance against hard steel

I don’t think Gaz has ever been unsat in an official tourney

Also? hello?? GAZ THE GALLANT???

I’m throwing up thinking about about being the lucky lady that Prince! Gaz gives his rose to before his run in the list 😭

[octopiys]

I wanted to publish the story here as it's become something I've loved writing so far :)

Find the desc. here

The Terrible Fire of Old Regret (It's Honey on My Tongue)

Pairings: SoapGhost, GazRoach

Word count: good question

Cw: blood/violence, minor death, lots of world building, allusions to Ghost's backstory

The day was cooling as the sun set, casting orange across the kingdom. He could see it from his frosted over window, in the tallest tower that he had insisted on staying in. It was his favorite place, his favorite perch, the cold cobblestone placed by builders belonging to kings from centuries past. Horse drawn carriages dotted the town, tiny lights that moved in and out of the castle's stone walls.

The wind blew through the tops of the trees, twisting the smoke from stacked chimneys down in the village, people doting about in long skirts, or tied up pants, retreating into the calm warmths of their cottages.

The baker to his bakery that smelled like sugar and bread.

The weaponsmith to his home of metalworking, to a wife who was as equally enthusiastic.

The knights to their quarters, letting their swords down, leaving the polishing for the morning.

The tapestries here were that woven by his mother, a Lady past, lost to illness in the young years of plague. It was a nasty thing, that clouded and bubbled like a swarm of enraged wasps. It was not only his mother who shared these tapestries, some belonged to another woman, torn gone to battle. She was a soldier, or at least, under a guise, leaving behind a son only a few years older than he.

His name was Kyle, but John called him Gaz. It was a childish nickname, with a story too long to tell, but it was simpler this way. They had grown up together, under the Ladies and Lordships of the King, but in the span of two years, their lives changed.

Kyle had just turned four, starting to drive his mother up the wall. Like his father, she had charged off into the war, one started long ago from the eastern european waves of the Umbra Comitatu. She was lost in a fight they knew they wouldn't have won from the start. She was a Lady very close to the King, and he had sworn to her dying breath to take care of her son, who was waiting in his cottage for parents who would never return.

It was not a known fact that King Johnathan Price could not have children. It often skipped a few generations, but he knew the issues. It was not because he didn't have a queen by his side, he was above that. But there were some ins and outs that he had taken. With His Ladyship's passing, the King stayed true to his word, taking in her young son, Kyle. This solved half of his issue of having an heir, and being able to pass on his knowledge and legacy to another.

Underneath King Johnathan's wing, lay a different, equally strange boy.

John was very young, maybe one, almost two, when the plagues had come and stolen his mother from him. Another trusted Lady in the King's cabinet, but she was no soldier. Instead, she was far from it, specializing in the arts. She had an eye for detail, coming in handy with cartography, but she spent her days specializing in weaving. Magnificent works of hers dotted the walls of the castle where they had stayed. Her very soul had been woven into the cloths of drapes, cloaks, carpets, or other royal items. She was known across the kingdom for it. And she had left behind a son with no father to his name.

While Kyle had taken after his mother in swordsmanship, the younger son, John, with an equally stupid nickname of Soap, had taken up artistry. Now, he had no hand for weaving, couldn't get himself to focus enough to stay still, but he had a very delicate eye for detail. He involved himself more in sketches, drawings and paintings, that kind of artwork, but that did not mean he wasn't skilled in other fields.

When you are the King's sons, he trains you to be the best. And you are the best.

Just above his private guard that he had dubbed the One-Four-One.

Soap never really knew why it was called that. Maybe it had something to do with ranks and numbers, or the certain kinds of people inducted into the knightly force. He didn't understand it. But he loved to watch the soldiers train beneath his window, how they sparred against each other, bloodthirsty and ruthless, yet not drawing a single scratch beneath the armor of their opposition. It was mesmerizing.

The clang of swords against another, the dull thunk of fists against leather, the sounds of battle enthralled him. While Gaz, his brother, was more interested in the actual battle, Soap took up a different skill.

A new development on the horizon, something that King Price had gotten his hands on early. Gunpowder.

Soap had discovered that when you set fire to it....

God, it was wonderful.

That's what actually set him into his father's good graces.

"You're zonin' out again, Soap, chin up." Gaz threw a pillow at him, snapping the man out of his thoughts.

"Ayeeee fock off fer once, Gaz, ah swear, ye can never mind yer own-" Soap threw the pillow back at him without noticing the door had opened, and the pillow smacked the King across the face. It fell limply as the boys scrambled to their feet.

"Sh- Sorry, Father, we didn't see you come in." Gaz tried to cover for him and Soap did his best to agree. Price frowned, and discarded it, kicking the pillow away.

"Boys... I'm not sure what I expected." The King's low voice grumbled as he looked around their room.

Two beds sat at opposite ends of the room, large wooden posts stretching from the floor at each corner of the bed, barely missing the high ceilings. The beds themselves were curtained in red velvet, a royal color, emblazoned with the royal family crest, something they had come to accept as their own. Their room was actually pretty messy, clothes strewn about from a trunk that Gaz was desperately trying to pack. In the morning, he and Price would travel to their soldiers to give a bit of an energy boost.

The war had turned wayside a fortnight ago, when the rain had slicked the mud too far down, locking the enemy in the high ground. They had lost many men to the waves of arrows fired from places they couldn't see or reach. The King had only returned yesterday to retrieve Kyle, and head out again.

The mood slipped from in between their fingers quicker than watery dirt, more oily than blood, as Price scratched his beard, scraggly and unshaven.

"We're leaving at dawn, son. I thought you'd be more prepared than...." His eyes scanned the room once more. "This."

Gaz's face went hot with embarrassment. "Yes sir, I was almost done, but- er- Johnny was helpin' me reorganize, sir, you know, to get more room-"

"I was! Gotta- gotta fit in those.... maps...." Soap internally punched himself for speaking up, but still stood at attention as the sunset blinded him.

Price sighed, weary with loss and exhaustion, but he didn't question it. Soap noticed then that the King was still wearing his uniform, splattered with mud around the boots, and many dark stains that he didn't want to imagine the grief that sank into the fabric. Johnny tugged at the end of his sleeve anxiously. A loose thread. Unravel.

Unravel.

Unraveling.

"Johnny!" Gaz snapped on front of his face and wideyed, Soap looked back up.

"Sorry- what-?"

"Did you not-" Price groaned into his fist before cooling it off. "Tomorrow you meet with Lady Laswell to discuss your duties in our absence. I fear we may be gone longer than we wish, and I want you to be prepared for anything. Can you handle that?"

Johnny nodded, puffing out his chest, like he was bigger than he actually was. More to be proud of. "Of course, sir."

Price tipped his head, a smile crossed his face, the first gentle thing in weeks. "I expect you to see us depart in the morning." He looked between the two of them. There was a deep emotion in his eyes, shrouded in shadow and blood.

It was pride and fondness, he'd realize later, that filled the thick silence, seeping from the King himself. There was a final nod of his head, and Price adjusted his hat. "Good night, boys."

"Good night, Father."

"Fare thee well, Dad!"

Price paused in the door, giving him an odd look. Soap just happily waved in response.

The door shut with a slight slam, as doors did back then.

Johnny was suddenly hit in the face with a pillow. Again.

"You dumbass, this is why I do the talking!! Now I'm gonna be scolded the entire ride there, Soap, why-" Gaz collapsed face first onto his bed, still grumbling to himself.

"Buzz off ye prick! At least ye get to go somewhere!" He tossed a couple things into the case.

"But maps? Maps!? That's the best you got!?" Gaz turned around, pushing himself out of his warm covers to finish packing his things.

"Maps are important, Kyle!" He threw a wad of paper at the man for good measure.

The morning came too quick.

Soap was unprepared. Gaz was not.

The older prince was already up and dressed by the time Johnny came to, pulling himself out of his restless slumber.

He wore a sage green top beneath his armor, the family crest riding on his breastplate. His pants were checkered, two different shades of brown, thick enough fabric that the illnesses of the battlefield wouldn't attach themselves to him as he set foot down. Was his hair neat enough? Did his hair have to be neat for battle? He didn't think so. It was too late, anyways.

The sun was rising.

"Johnny!" Gaz hissed. "Wake up!"

"'M awake, I am-!" Soap insisted, sitting up and almost falling out of bed in the process. "What....?"

Gaz tossed a shirt at him. "Get dressed, I think we're supposed to be in the courtyard already, we gotta go! Help me with my trunk-"

"Shite, hold on-" Soap stumbled out of bed, tugging on a shirt, and a hopefully decent pair of shorts. Trying to step into both of his shoes, he grabbed one end of the trunk. "C'mon, help me out!"

Gaz lifted the other end, and the brothers staggered out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, they had gotten it loaded up into the carriage, and now they waited on Price in silence. They dare not look at one another, their fear of sudden loss paralyzing.

Not once in twenty two years had the brothers been separated. Okay, maybe that wasn't entirely true, he means separated to this extent. No contact. Looming threat of danger and death, with a risk too great to comprehend.

Now of course, it could go completely fine. But they've seen enough to know that they wouldn't scrape by unscathed. Fate had too much on their shoulders, like the sky of Atlas, bearing down to force them to hold it.

The castle doors opened, and out walked the King. Guards stood at attention, and even the Sons stiffened in alert. He had worn his deep blue overcoat, hidden beneath the sheen and shine of his silver plated armor. His sword hung on a high belt at his side, the Price crest branded into the center of his chestplate. He wore no crown, a man, a soldier, with only titled above that. Titles were no savior in the face of an enemy, only more words that delayed your inevitable downfall by seconds.

You could tell by his stature that he was royal. Knightly, at least, his aura was powerful, confident. Unwavering, just like his loyalty. The king was a man of his word. He'd never leave one behind.

He stopped in front of his two sons, like he was taking in the sight. It was a somber experience, and Soap's heart was heavy with fears and sorrows he did not dare let escape the cavity of his chest.

His heels crunched on the rocks and gravel beneath them as he approached Soap first.

In a sharp move, the King had wrapped both arms around him in a proud embrace. Johnny fought to hide the tremor in his hands as he reached to return the gesture.

"Father-" His voice wavered and he swallowed nervously. The heated feeling in his stomach that twisted his intestines into knots was worse today than usual. Anxiety. Doubt. He hated it.

"Don't worry, son. We'll be back before the stress of the throne turns ya grey." Price whispered, giving him a rightful thump on the back.

"Ah'm not gonnae turn grey, old man. Ye take yer chances with it first." Johnny returned with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. The sun had barely crossed the horizon now.

Price took a few steps back. "Kyle, this is Sergeant Gary Sanderson. He's one o' the few soldiers we're taking with us. He'll be with you when I won't be. I trust you'll get to know 'im well." At his introduction, a soldier around their age stepped forward with a bow of his head.

He had brown hair that darkned at the root, with a crooked smile, and pale green eyes. The most noticeable thing about him was the jagged, forked scar that ran across his face, starting at the center of his cheek, drifting across his nose, dipping into his eyebrow, and settling beneath his eye. It was like some beast had raked a claw across his face, and Sanderson had don't no better to mind.

His eyes were soft, but hardened in a way that Soap only ever found in knights. War, he had decided, was the cause of that ravaged, rugged look. Not completely lost, not yet, but having seen just enough to prove themselves wrong.

Kyle introduced himself with a warm hand and a nervous smile. Price clapped him on the back, before giving Johnny a knowing look.

"Lady Laswell awaits you in the great hall. Try not to be upset with her." The King warned in a steely voice, plunging his heart even further.

What trouble had he gotten himself into now?

"Alright, soldiers, load up." Price commanded, and a few choice kmights began mounting horses, or loading themselves into carriages.

Except for Gaz.

"Don't do anything too reckless without me, brother." The eldest said with a lost laugh in his voice, avoiding eye contact.

Soap challenged this by giving him a bear hug. "How cannae? Yer takin' all the fun with ye!"

Gaz actually laughed this time, pulling away before giving him a serious look. "No, really, don't burn the castle down, okay? We only get one."

"Yesh, yeah." He waved him off. "Go kill some Shadows fer me, aye?"

"Expect nothing less, Soap!" He called as he climbed into the carriage, where the King awaited him.

He heard the horses begin to trot, and Johnny turned away.

He didn't watch them leave.

The mirror was broken. Not that it had been much of use, anyways. It was always thick with grime and dust. No one ever had enough time to clean it. The floorboards still creaked in the same way as when he was a squire, however long ago that seemed.

The bed groaned as Sanderson woke up. The crack in the window eased a breeze, blowing cold into their room. He rubbed a hand over his face in the dim lighting of the knights' quarters. Something shifted off to his left, startling him.

"Good mornin' to ya, Riley, scared the shite outta me-" The young man feigned a hand over his heart after practically jumping out of his skin as the Knight Lieutenant moved around in the shadows, getting ready for the day.

"Morning, Roach." He mumbled, a voice deeper than you'd expect for someone of his stature.

The Lieutenant was tall and built out, covered in scars from war and past fights. He often wondered how he got the majority of them, but had never chosen to ask. He was not a social person, but he still spared enough conversation to speak with Gary. So he counted that as a win.

Riley had light brown hair that reached past his shoulders, but most of the time he had it tied up behind his head, moving as he moved. He had only ever seen it cut short once, right after Sanderson himself had joined the ranks. He had been captured by the enemy during the very start of the war, before he had earned the legendary title of the Ghost. And they had cut his hair, a symbol of power, torn away forcibly by the enemy. He was one of Price's closest men, and something had broken inside of him by the time that he had gotten close enough for rescue.

But for now, it was at it's regular length, tied back behind his head, back behind the mask that concealed the lower half of his face.

If his sharp eyes could glow, Sanderson was very sure they would be doing so in the dark of the morning. It was one of the only noticeable features on his face, set aside the jagged scars that crisscrossed his crooked nose, broken one too many times in a fist fight.

The real terror was the black, painted fabric of a mask that the Knights Lieutenant wore. Covering the bottom of his nose, down to his chin, this was his casual day's wear. It was hand painted, a thick, nontoxic material, the same shade white as a bleached skull left out in the sun for too long.

You can understand his sudden fear, being the first sight he saw as he woke.

"Remember your orders, Sergeant. Wouldn't want you to miss that opportunity." Ghost muttered, standing to move out of his way.

Roach's eyes widened as he launched himself out of bed, grabbing a day shirt, and the chain he wore as armor. Sitting at the end of his bed, he struggled to pull on his shoes in his sleep muddled state. He could tell that the Lieutenant was conflicted between feeling jealousy, or pride. He had made Roach the knight that he was, but was worried at the outcome of this mission. They didn't know how long he would be gone, accompanying the King and the Crown Prince to the battlefield, the front lines. It was Roach's chance to prove himself. They both knew Ghost would've been better in this position, but still, it was his chance.

Ghost knew, of course, that the Sergeant would be great at it. It was a big deal. He was a great fit.

"Sword." The older man grunted, holding out the sheath that Roach had almost walked out without.

"Shite, thanks-" He fastened the sword to his side, pausing in the doorway. "Oh, and Riley-?"

The man stopped what he was doing and looked up. Roach gave him a smile. Soft, forgiving. Warning.

"Thank you, sir."

The sun crossed the horizon, and Riley was alone in the quarters again.

"So... Why's your name Roach?" Gaz asked, leaning closer to the silent knight in the carriage with him.

"Gaz..." Price mumbled, lifting a hand to try and ease his spout of questions.

"It's okay, sir, I don't mind! A lot of us in the Knights' Quarter have nicknames like that. Codenames, you know? In case somethin' goes wrong, we can still write letters without givin' away someone! It was the Lieutenant's idea." The Sergeant said with a shrug. He looked, and sounded, younger than Soap.

"My brother and I have something similar." Gaz said happily, not failing to notice how he had danced around the question, both answering it and not. He looked out the window, drumming his fingers on his leg excitedly. War was not something to be excited about, but he was eager to get out and do something, something good. "So I assume you've trained with Lieutenant Ghost?"

Meeting with Lady Laswell was.... expectedly unexpected. He had pushed away the thick feeling that gathered in his throat at the leave of his father and brother, the silence almost deafening the castle, making it seem colder than it usually was.

The great hall was quiet for once. It was a sight he didn't welcome. His steps echoed on the cold flooring, and he pulled his coat tighter around himself. The fires weren't lit, he noticed with a pang. At one end of the table sat the Lady, pouring herself over papers, scrolls, and maps. Her short hair was pulled back.

She was a progressive woman, motherly in an unmotherly way that he liked. He knew she had favored Gaz, as most did, but they still got along well. He enjoyed her. She wore pants, instead of skirts and dresses.

"Oh, Prince John, nice to have you finally join us." She was an older woman, older than Price, but not by a decade at most. Her face was lined, but not at a faraway look, with graying hair and piercing eyes. She was unmarried, but he saw the way she looked at the castle nurse, and the way their touches lingered.

He didn't judge in any way, was happy for her, silently. He didn't understand the attraction to women when the men were right there, but that sent him under a spiral of thoughts he was unprepared for.

He tipped his head in acknowledgement. "Lady Laswell, g'morn to ye."

She gave him a smile, and stepped away from the table. "This is Lieutenant Riley, but you can call him Ghost. Ghost, I believe you've met Price John....?"

She appeared to be speaking to no one, until he turned around, immediately facing a very tall man's chest, and he jumped back, surprised.

"Creepin' jesus, ye just sneak up like that? That's fockin'-"

"John."

"Sorry, ma'am." He smoothed himself over and took a step back. Soap stuck out a hand with a bit of a hesitant smile, before he faltered at the sight.

The knight was tall, bigger than him in almost every way. He had wideset shoulders, the crest of the castle worn on his over shirt. He wore executioner's gloves, it didn't match with his outfit, but Soap did not dare tell him that. He was... intimidating to say the least. But the most eye catching part about him was not his cold, fixed glare, but the mask he wore. The black fabric really tore everything else away. A distractor. It was painted so very realistically, the lower half of one's jaw, dried and whitened, he couldn't help but admire it.

His eyes were hidden, almost veiled beneath a black paint substance that glossed over his skin. The famed Lieutenant Ghost looked nothing like what he believed him to be.

Ghost eyed him coldly. "Close your mouth, your majesty." He looked up and away from him, clasping his gloved hands behind his back. "You'll catch flies."

[lunarw0rks]

royalty!au…who gives off major prince vibes?

price gaz !! at ur service ;)

[reds-skull]

Had the passing thought "what if Gaz had long hair" a few days ago and I just had to draw it

(Actually obsessed with 'hawked Gaz...)

[deargaz]

mini poly!141 x reader at the end.

you were set to marry kyle — the prince and to-be-king from the neighboring kingdom. it was a usual pact to strengthen the relations between the kingdom you belonged to and his, and you couldn’t help but resent both your father and your future husband. more so your father, so desperate and pleading in front of a man ‘superior’ than him. you just loathed such relations, but again, anything for a better future in your old kingdom, right?

kyle’s surprisingly calm, gentle even. you are glad that he doesn’t force you into anything on the night of your wedding. he could read the anxiety etched on your face as if you were some open book, and being vulnerable around him did nothing but heighten your nerves.

you stick mostly to yourself, spending time in the palace’s library or the gardens. he’s perfectly content from watching you from afar, though that is obviously naught but a lie. all he does is dream of holding you in his arms and kissing all of your worries away.

unbeknownst to you, it’s not only your husband who’s got his eyes on you. his most trusted knights share similar feelings – the one with the mohawk is first to indulge – attempting to impress you with flowers he’d pick from the garden alongside poorly crafted attempts at flirting. kyle loves spending his time conversing with his trusted knights, his close friends really, about you.

it was only a matter of time he’d start losing his patience and drag you into his bedroom, maybe even invite one or two in occasionally once you were comfortable. his knights deserve the best too, after all.

[a-b-riddle]

A few things to know:

This is my hobby. I don’t get paid for this so please cut me some slack if I’m not as active as other writers. I’m trying 💙

Things I enjoy writing: CNC, smut, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome 🫶🏻 (a personal fave), groveling. He falls first & harder. Enemies to lovers. Friends to lovers. Dark fics. Happily ever afters. Pregnancy tropes. Betrayal. Redemption. A/B/O.

Things I won’t write: major character deaths (MW3 never happened on this blog). Miscarriage. Cheating tropes (from the MMC). Hurt/no comfort. Unhappy endings.

Just because I won’t write certain things doesn’t mean I won’t read it. I just prefer not to write it.

I don’t do tag lists & please do not ask me when there will be an update.

Here are a list of boundaries I have made for myself and my page. You can do these things, but I’m not arguing, you will just be blocked.

Master list

Call Of Duty

Marvel

ACOTAR

Fourth Wing

Other Fandoms

Writing Resources

[temeyes]

Can I request a merman ghost x soap

Or

Mermen tf 141

soap finds the most dangerous trinkets under the sea, i swear

[s0fter-sin]

prince!ghost and lord in waiting!soap

ghost is a warrior prince, next in line after king price and it’s always been accepted he would be the lone ruler; never one for entertaining the courts or indulging foreign rulers trying to consolidate their power. he hardly acts like a prince at all, in name only when he spends more time as a pseudo captain of the guard. price has never begrudged him that, not when he himself has been a lone king since his inauguration

though he’s a warrior prince, he’s never lost the favour of the people; many see him as a guardian even if he doesn’t interact with the people as much as benevolent and stalwart king price. who he does interact with is the kingdom’s children; always ready to bend a knee and listen to bright voices, to praise stick swords and shields or hear the plight of a struggling family. it was a common belief that if he wasn’t out protecting, then he was with the protected; face covered, blonde curls shining in the sun

soap’s always loved ghost. as his lord in waiting, it’s been his job to attend him since they were young and even as a child, he’d idolised him; his skills in battle, his surety. he thought his life would be nothing but service, clothing a brat prince and making sure his shoes shined. but ghost has proven more than that; he treats him as an equal, consults him on strategy and court politics and over time that idolisation turned into love

and ghost has always felt the same. he’d begrudged the idea of a lord in waiting, not wanting someone always in his business but then came this spitfire who never missed an opportunity to push back on him; to make him dig deeper. johnny is more than some mere servant; he’s his confidant, his best friend, his… everything. he could be simon with him, not prince ghost

but simon figures that out too late

king price gets word from king shepherd, a kingdom they’ve only recently stopped feuding with and he’s offering up his son, prince graves, as a way to bond their kingdoms together and firmly put war behind them. price is ready to deny him, he doesn’t fear war from shepherd, when he sends some ancient laws that leave him unable to refuse. he hates it, hates that he’s ruining ghost’s happiness and feels like he’s betraying his adopted son but there’s nothing he can do

graves comes to their kingdom within the month and it’s clear from the moment he walks through their gates that he’s the opposite of ghost; arrogant and conceited, his ceremonial armour glossy and untouched by battle. he’s dismissive of their servants, of their ways, of their people and ghost hates him

graves insists that the wedding happen as soon as possible, pushing the craftsmen and cooks beyond their limits to prepare and every moment ghost spends with him, the more he dreads his wedding day. every evening he retreats to his room, exhausted, and it’s all johnny can do to keep him afloat; trying to keep him positive as ghost falls away and simon breaks in his arms. he wants to whisk him away like the old tales, the pain his oldest friend and love is in making his heart ache but all he can do is promise to be there with him

but it seems graves wants to take even him away

“soap’s been my lord in waiting since we were children,” ghost protests, voice barely clinging to civility. “i wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable worker.”

“there are plenty of decent servants in our kingdom; you’ll forget this one soon enough,” graves waves away, carding a possessive hand over his curls and it’s only bc he’s looking for it that soap sees ghost’s jaw twitch beneath his neck gaiter. “it’s custom for one marrying into our kingdom to embrace all that it has to offer, leaving who they were behind to become someone better. you’re entering a new life with me; you don’t need the baggage of this dreary place.”

soap feels sick as he walks behind them, his blank expression hiding all sign of his breaking heart.

“soap is beholden to me,” ghost declares. “we were sworn together by the old laws. i’m afraid a custom isn’t enough for me to break a vow to the gods.”

graves lets out a disgruntled noise, tugging harshly at one of ghost’s curls with only a thin veil of fondness; his conceding smile not reaching his eyes.

“i never made a vow to the gods,” johnny points out later. “price gave me to you because he was sick of me setting fire to the kitchens.”

simon hums and sets his freshly cleaned armour aside, turning to him with a twinkle in his eyes he’s barely seen since sheperd’s missive. “you pinkie swore that you would never leave me; that’s more powerful than any promise to the gods,” he says and soap’s thrown back fifteen years, to a willow tree big enough to touch the sky; to two boys from different stations who didn’t care that one was dressed in silk and the other in scraps.

johnny feels a lightness he hasn’t in a month as simon winks at him. “besides, do you really think graves is smart enough to figure it out?”

the days pass quickly, graves’ veneer of affection growing ever thinner, and before either of them are ready, it’s the eve of ghost’s wedding.

he’s said nothing, done nothing but stare at the wedding robes graves had tailored for him in the fashion of his kingdom and johnny doesn’t know how to break the silence. he draws out each second as he fusses with the cape piece and ensures the shoes shine in the fire light until he has no more excuses.

he sighs as he straightens up, brushing off polish onto his pants. “i suppose this is where i leave you,” he says with a weak smile but it quickly dies when simon still doesn’t look at him. “i’ll be here in the morning to help you get ready… good night, simon.”

johnny bows and makes for the door, trying to convince himself he didn’t just say goodbye.

but he’s stopped by simon’s hand loosely wrapping around his wrist.

he looks back as simon finally tears his eyes away from the robes, looking at him with such clear longing it almost brings him to his knees.

“i don’t want graves to be the first man to touch me, johnny,” he confesses and johnny’s breath hitches. “i don’t want to be married to another… not when the one i’m set to wed isn’t you. but if i have to do this… please let me feel loved one final time.”

simon’s thumb brushes the back of his hand; their kingdom’s greatest warrior caressing him with a touch light as silk. he doesn’t pull johnny in, doesn’t need to; johnny’s already sinking into his touch.

desperation and love tinge every movement; johnny dancing his fingers over simon’s neck gaiter until he all too happily removes it, baring his scarred cheeks and lips. johnny kisses each one, willing his love and his touch to linger above all others as they move together; sharing breath, sharing body, sharing soul the way they wish they always have.

when ghost makes his way down the aisle, it’s not in the fine embroidered robes graves had laid out for him. he’s in his battle armour; dark and weathered, the sign of the ghost, the warrior prince, going to battle. the only thing missing is his helm, tucked under his arm.

showing his hair; curls gone and shaved tight to his skin.

a thing done only in a time of great mourning.

graves looks irate and it’s the only spark of joy ghost feels as he stops before the altar; set beneath the willow tree where johnny promised himself to him. one final insult.

ghost is silent throughout the ceremony and in spirit and in grief, so is the entire gathered kingdom until the priestess reaches the final vows and suddenly, a great roar rises above the crowd as seemingly every child in the kingdom swarms the altar.

ghost is too shocked to do anything but let them push him away from graves, bullying their way between them like they’re preparing to protect him just as he’s always protected them.

graves is furious but the children stand firm in the face of his threats until he moves to strike one-

and freezes as soap’s blade finds his throat.

“you would dare hurt these children?” he growls, sword following graves as he stumbles back. “you’ve kept up your charade the entire time and here is where you show your true colours. i think it’s time i show mine.”

graves splutters as johnny turns to the priestess and king price, falling to one knee and offering up his blade. “your grace, i wish to challenge prince graves for the hand of prince simon!”

his voice rings clear and he feels the eyes of every person in the kingdom.

but he only cares for one man.

who is watching him with more love than he’s ever felt.

“who are you to challenge me?” graves sneers. “you’re nothing more than a servant; no better than the dirt on my boots.”

johnny doesn’t bother to look at him, too caught in the love in simon’s eyes and the grateful look on king price’s face. “then you should have nothing to worry about. you’ve been crowing your accolades from the rooftops since you got here; let’s see if you live up to the hype.”

because simon only ever introduced him as his lord in waiting.

never as sir soap- his second in command and one of the greatest swordsmen their kingdom has ever seen.

[kitkatscabinet]

Got Prince Kyle x Pirate reader brainrot, courtesy of the discord server (especially @bunnyreaper @perfinn).

Kyle being the only son of the king, lives a spoiled and resplendent lifestyle but feels stifled due to his parent's overprotective nature. Grew up on stories of adventurous explorers, daring escapades and best of all pirates.

Pirates his father grumbles with malice, frothing with rage every time a small portion of his wealth gets plundered. Still, Kyle can't help the way his heart yearns for the adventure, to experience life outside the stifling walls of the castle.

It takes months of planning, listening to gossip on the docks and bribing his way through people until he manages to sneak out of the city. He somehow makes it to Nassau without being discovered, but the moment he stows away on your ship you sniff him out.

Naturally, you recognise him straight away, you've made a habit of memorising individuals who could prove to be prosperous. A prince is certainly one of these people, you could ransom him for a literal fortune, and retire in peace should you choose to.

But there's something in the defiant spark in his eyes, the way he doesn't cower in fear even when the tip of your sword nicks the skin of his neck. He's easy enough on the eyes too and so desperate to prove himself to you.

So you keep him around, keep his secret, show him all kinds of adventures and introduce him to the debauchery of pirate life.

Unfortunately, the fantasy can't last and someone recognises Gaz, the king and queen are distraught, willing to pay thousands in gold to have their 'stolen' son returned.

But Kyle doesn't want to go home so you don't turn him in, you let him live the life of freedom he's so desired by your side. He stays right up until you can't hold off the barrage of people hunting you down any longer.

Kyle gets dragged from your ship screaming and begging for them to spare your life, watching as you kneel bloodied and bruised and on the verge of being executed because of him.

[fushigurokay]

thinking a lot about task force 141 eating/seeing your hairy pussy for the first time (because for some reason that was your insecurity) and it just drives them wild to the point of fucking you brainless

please someone write about this

[141wh0re]

Mirage Masterlist- (Prince!Gaz AU)

Warnings: This story will contain graphic violence, graphic sexual content, swearing, as well as historical inaccuracies.

AN: This story is heavily inspired by the live action remake of Aladdin. Though, my characters have more Egyptian roots (it's what works for the sake of the plot.), even though Canonically, Gaz is said to have Ghanaian descent. This fic is purely self-indulgent, but I hope you all enjoy it. - Skelly <3

Summary: After King Garrick's mysterious murder, Kyle is given no choice but to leave behind his life of war and bloodshed to take on his responsibilities as the king's successor.

With the guidance of his mother and their family's trusted advisor, Kyle might just make a great king yet. Though, he must wed in order to take the throne. And if he must be wed, he wants to be wedded for love, just as his father and mother were.

But after traveling to countless palaces, searching for a noble princess to form a military alliance with through their marriage, Kyle has grown exhausted with his efforts.

Yet a certain street rat manages to dance her way into his heart and his mind. He can see things clearly when she's around, yet she's not a noble. He could never marry her.

Kyle will be forced to make a decision between marrying a noble, having a strong military, and a loveless marriage, only living his life filled with deception. Or he'll lose his status, marry for love, and see all truths that dare to be hidden from him.

Teaser Available

Part I: The Prince, The Street Rat, And The Worm

I. The Prince II.The Street Rat III. And The Worm

Part II:

Part III:

Tag List (Open):

@v1naco /@pale-ghost-girl

[octopiys]

I PASSED ALL MY CLASSES THIS SEMESTER!!! WORKED MY ASS OFF!!! DONT NEED TO BE STRESSED FOR A WHILE!!!! I KEEP MY SCHOLARSHIP!!!! VERY HAPPY!!!!! NOW I CAN GO WRITE AND DRAW!!! MERMAY!!!

MY IDEAS ARE BACK IM SO EXCITED

[project-neo]

Leaving this hier with you guys.

[martuzzio]

Sitting in meetings all day always works up a strong appetite. Good thing the pub down the street makes the best mutton stew in the city!

Check out more Medieval 141 here

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Last Line Challenge

Tagged by @stuffireadandenjoy and @gemmahale

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

I think I'm gonna give you all this idea that slapped me in the face the other day. It's a bit longer than a line, but no one has ever accused me of not writing enough.

Childhood best friend Kyle who shows you a picture of his mate Simon, who he swears will treat you right if you just give him a chance. Apparently he was showing the guys a picture of you and his sister, and this Simon guy complimented your dress and earrings. The guy is definitely handsome, but… "He's pretty… tall." Kyle's brows draw down a smidge. "Yeah, he's almost 2 meters." "And I'm sure he's great," you say, eyes flicking to the table next to you in the cafe. "But I've been had some bad experiences, so I promised myself I wouldn't date anyone… tall… for a while." Understanding dawns. "Oh, that makes sense." "And a tall guy in the military?" You grimace a bit. "That's fair," Kyle says. "But I would never ever try to set you up with someone who wouldn't care for and respect you. Tall or not. Please give him a chance? If he so much as breathes wrong, I'll kill him myself." You look at his photo again. You're always a sucker for brown eyes and a big nose. "Fine. One date. And you're paying for my nails."

No pressure tags: @sentientcave, @mortuarywriting, @cosmicpro, @sourpatch-boy, @godihatethiswebsite, and anyone who needs a push to share stuff they're excited about!