#implied kyle gaz garrick

[forestshadow-wolf]

Y'all imagine soap and ghost wrestling and soap suplexes ghost

Everyone is just stunned. Nobody knew he could do that

Ghost is even more in love (maybe a little hard thinks about asking johnny to do it again)

Whils soap isn't a small man by any means, Ghost is just a large man... he's never met anyone who could just do that to him. Maybe that one german Austrian dude from, what's it called? Kortac?, he heard that guy's pretty tall.

But that's different. That's a big dude taking out a big dude.

This is soap taking out a man who out classes him in height and weight, like it was nothing. And fuck if that doesn't do something to him.

Soap laughs at the dumbfounded faces and says he used to be on the wrestling team from 7th to 11th grade. Says he's surprised nobody knew. Says his coaches always had to move him up a weight class because he obliterated his own weight class. Says that he wanted to see if he could still do it. Says he's always wanted to do it to Ghost.

[gomzdrawfr]

Rocking the green outfits

[Patreon]

[vozart]

last game

[bunnubun]

Drumroll please! May i present: 141 at a bar celebrating the holidays. Happy (very belated) holidays!

New headcanon: Price is #1 hater on romantic relationships in the military. Why? Because he’s too scared of getting one himself AHEM (pricegaz) AHEM.

[indigosunsetao3]

Just know if you challenge any of the 141 to the foot pursuit challenge on TikTok, you aren’t going to win. Yes, even Simon, with his bulk, is going to catch you. These men are lethal, they aren’t going to lose a simple chase and capture.

And good luck when they do manage to get ahold of you. Something about catching their cute little overconfident partner who thought they could get away sets off something in them. That killer instinct. The need to control and dominate. To show they will always get you and have you, no matter what.

But of course they aren’t going to kill you. They adore you and your disappointed pout and heaving chest as you try to catch your breath. They just need something to take the jittery edge off.

They may make you run again to see if they can grab you faster and pin you behind the bushes. Or cuff you in zip ties and haul you onto the house over their shoulder. Maybe drag you to the back of the car, even as you twist in protest to get out of their sweaty grip.

None of your attempts to get away will work when they are in this mindset.

You wanted to play chase, love. Now they want to play caught.

[tactical-jellyfish]

Watcher 1-1 Masterlist

Synopsis: You used to be a star member of the Task Force 141. Good things never seem to last, and change paves over your old friendships. Now, the only issue is that those old friendships are staring at you across the table, with anger in their eyes.

Status: Incomplete, fully plotted

Cluster One: Early Days

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Cluster Two: Tumbling Gracelessly

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Cluster Three: Time, and the things it just so happens to do to good people

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

[certifiedfreec]

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that könig took an interest in you…

- sometimes he likes to watch you struggle with what little height you have to reach up for the top shelves in the kitchen on base. poor thing, it looks like you need some help from a big, strong, super tall man :( he chuckles a little before stepping in to grab what you needed, but not before playfully dangling it high up over your head to watch you jump for it. “hah, you look like a katze right now.”

- this man eats like a motherfucker. if he even offers to share food with you, that’s basically his way of proposing. you said yes once, and now he’s bringing you snacks all the time before you even have to ask. he wants to feed you, make sure you’re nourished before and after missions- just let the big guy dote on you!

- he doesn’t say much, but it’s because he doesn’t need to; his presence does all the talking. all of kortac went out to a dingy bar one night, and you better believe you were the safest person in the room with all 6-foot-something of him staying close behind you. one glowering look from him is all it takes to get someone to back off- no one touches his precious little katze.

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that gaz took an interest in you…

- he’ll FaceTime you randomly from wherever he is, whether he’s in a safehouse or on the other side of the base. he just likes to get a glimpse of your face whenever he can :’) if he can’t video call you then he’s spamming you with memes that he saw; he knows exactly how to make you laugh.

- you were talking about your favorite food one day, and somehow by total coincidence he cooked it in the base kitchen a few days later! and how convenient, he over-estimated the ingredients and ended up fixing enough for two people! he just might need your help with finishing it ;) he’s already thinking about what to have for dessert…

- he’s a fantastic listener, always letting you vent to him when a new recruit pisses you off or when you’re unhappy with how the latest mission went. he hates seeing you so upset, wishing he could take all your irritations away :( he always stops himself just before can suggest some not-so-fraternization-policy-friendly ways of helping you relieve that stress :’)

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that soap took an interest in you…

- he always notices whenever you use a different body wash or fragrance, and he’ll be the first ask you what the new scent is. no one else really detects it the way he does, but he pays so much attention to you that he can’t help it. he also can’t help but want his sheets to smell like you too <3

- he insists on taking selfies with you wherever you’re on missions together. suddenly it’s a thing, and now you’re taking them together all the time when you’re off base. you think it’s a fun way to document all the places you travel to, but to him it’s the perfect excuse to have some pictures of your pretty face on his phone :’)

- he likes to initiate all kinds of competitions with you during missions- who can reload their weapon the fastest, who can shoot from the furthest distance, etc. it’s honestly kinda hot seeing you get so focused. his wagers start out fairly normal, but if you’re game then he definitely ups the ante. maybe the winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser…you’d never noticed him training so much before ;)

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that price took an interest in you…

- he’s always nearby when you’re training on the shooting range, readily available to critique your aim and give you some pointers. does this involve standing suuuuper close and physically moving your arms and feet to fix your position? with him, it always does <3

- this man stares you down during debriefings. it’s like you become his focal point- he’ll glance at the others every once in a while, but his gaze always settles back on you. he just thinks you look so adorable all focused and serious while he’s talking!

- one night you were outside after a mission, and he was puffing on a cigar from his prized collection. he was asking you about the operation, wanting to know how you felt about it before casually handing the cigar to you- how could you refuse your captain? you’d never touched one of those before so you coughed and sputtered after taking a pitiful puff (it was like an indirect kiss, too!!) and he chuckled amusedly at you. “looks like you need some more practice. i can help with that.”

[forestshadow-wolf]

Ghost: busting it down

Soap: sexual style-

Ghost: no.

Ghost: in the murder way.

Soap:

Ghost: i murdered someone...

Soap:

Ghost: ... again.

Soap:

Ghost: don't tell price.

Soap:

Ghost: or he'll yell at me... again

Ghost: it's only monday...

Soap: *opens his mouth to say something*

Ghost: in my defense someone said gaz was wrong...

Ghost: gaz has never been wrong. Ever.

Soap, catching on: ... and saying he's wrong is an insult on his cow

Ghost: *nodding*

[gomzdrawfr]

i....I GOT MORE KITTY AU STUFF....

also yes @panchulien they do take naps together

[fairyboygenius]

summer camp! au 141 & co with the loves of their lives (the girl they meet two weeks ago during staff week)

price/ranger john is infatuated with the office assistant- a cute post-grad who is one of five people who can drive the golf cart to pick up supplies. he’s suddenly using his radio more often than he ever has to call her & her boss (laswell’s wife) over to pick up more supplies after his trip to home depot. nikolai just sighs and laughs as he watches, knowing john’ll share if he asks nicely. their utility wedding bands brush as they chop wood. camp name: sunshine

ghost is in deep, passionate, (perhaps) unrequited love with his favorite lifeguard. he would never admit it but his favorite days are when they’re on the schedule together at the pool or on the lake. she’s a lifer- been going since she was 7 or 8- so she’s teaching him all the ins and outs. they’ve requested their nights off on the same night every week for the rest of the summer. camp name: sodapop

butch!gaz has been in love with his best friend since they started going to camp together at 11. she’s a counselor now- but they both love working with the littles, the most perceptive 7- and 8-year-olds you’ve ever met. the two of them can talk any child out of a bout of homesickness. the wedding’s next week. all the raccoons are invited. camp name: dove

butch!soap has a thing for the counselor who oversees the CITs in their hilltop lodge. that’s always her first choice of living accommodation- not just because soap prefers the older kids, not just because there’s air conditioning and flushing toilets, but because the CIT director sleeps in a tank top and tiny sleep shorts and has the cutest morning voice. they’ll get matching carabiners at a dollar tree and the kids (most of whom are queer themselves) know EXACTLY what’s going on between their counselor and the STEM specialist. there’s a sacrifice happening to the ghost in the lodge to encourage them to get over themselves. camp name: birdie

butch!alex always prefers being a counselor for horse camps. farah would be enough- they’ve been best friends since 9, only hooking up once before they decided it was too awkward- but alex is more focused on another wrangler, the only one who can saddle and bridle a horse perfectly in under ten minutes. farah is already planning a double wedding between them and her with her crush- the media specialist, hopping on and off the golf cart with her camera, sweet talking smiles out of even the shyest kids. camp names: scout & bunny

trans!alejandro runs the rock climbing wall. trans!rudy works in the nature center and coordinates hikes. they’re in love and terrible at hiding it

alejandro camp name- lucky (short for lucky stone)

rudy camp name- apollo

valeria has come over from a rival camp to help with arts and crafts. she helps run paint parties at the barn (markers on a horse, anyone?) and as such falls for a wrangler- alex’s girl’s best friend, a cute newcomer who can convince even the most afraid child to calm down and go for a pony ride.

valeria’s camp name: tie- dye

li’s camp name: bambi

[snootlestheangel]

The boys love April Fool's.

Whenever they are able to spend the day on base, an all out war breaks out.

Price will only do something small yet incredibly irritating to Simon. Only Simon.

Such as taking all of the skull masks and balaclavas he has and leaving only the plain black ones. Annoying, but not a hindrance. Or one year, Price switched out Ghost's sugar for his tea with a different kind of sugar. Ghost, with a surprisingly strong sense of taste, noticed the change immediately, but continued to down the rest of his tea out of spite when he made eye contact with the captain. Another time, Price had carefully taken one sock from every match, forcing Ghost to wear mismatched socks. Did it piss him off? Yes. Was it dangerous? No, actually, because all Ghost did was take his hats and hide them for a few days.

He's learned Gaz is extremely petty and will accomplish things he didn't think were possible. It scares Price, the things Gaz gets away with. He knows the sergeant uses those good looks of his, but he's also now confident the man isn't above committing war crimes for revenge.

He knows Soap lacks restraint when it comes to pranks, and after last year's... mishap... he's not willing to face that again. He can sometimes smell the burning hair when he's been up for too long.

But Simon is such an easy target, and his retaliations are just and equal to the crime.

The real reason Simon is so laidback when it comes to April Fool's pranks between the members of the 141 is rather simple, and sad. He's never felt such camaraderie before, and he loves feeling like he's finally at home. He doesn't mind getting roped into the shenanigans because he knows it's a sign of love and trust, especially from Price and Soap. He also knows Gaz hardly ever messes with him these days, as one year he heard the sergeant muttering "you're no fun" when Ghost simply laughed off the elaborate trap Gaz had set for him.

Soap's large family had traditions when it came to April Fool's Day. They were always harmless, or at least that's what he and his siblings led their parents to believe. They had the quiet agreement that anything goes so long as Mom and Dad stay clueless about their little war.

In other words, Soap never learned limits in a prank war, and combine his intelligence with his penchant for chaos, and something is bound to explode by the end of the day.

Gaz is just... petty. And not like a little, or harmfully. Just... like the one year he didn't like when Nik jokingly gifted him a trophy that said "Worst Passenger Ever" after his fifth fall from some type of aircraft. So, in retaliation, he bought a sticker book of over a thousand stickers and hid them all over the inside of Nik's beloved helicopter. Everyone is still too afraid to ask Gaz how he managed to have so much time alone with the copter and not get caught.

The only time Price ever pranked Gaz for April Fool's was the first April Fool's the boys were having as a team. Price had simply taken all of the chargers and taken all of the batteries out of Gaz's battery-powered clocks, which resulted in Gaz waking up to an unknown time. He spent the better half of the day in a foul mood (he asked Soap to fix his watch, which wasn't a good idea and he should have known).

As revenge, he pulled the classic "move everything in Price's office over by an inch." And by everything, it was everything that had the ability to move over an inch. For stuff in his drawers that couldn't move? He switched them around. The bottom drawer no longer had extra office supplies, it was the important stuff that should have been in the top drawer. But the top drawer was something else, and Price spent about thirty minutes looking for a new pen before storming out of his office in a rage and marching down to Gaz's quarters.

Gaz agreed to put everything back if Price told him his birthday. The blackmailing was expert level, the captain had to admit.

What they hadn't expected was that this year, Price had an assistant.

No, not Nik.

Nik is banned from base on April Fool's Day after the one year he got involved.

No, what the boys hadn't expected was Bailey to offer her help. They hadn't expected the captain's sweet daughter to be so... bloodthirsty.

It was the only time she ever was excited to be back on base. She stayed hidden most of the day, carrying out her father's wishes from the smallest nooks and crannies.

They knew something was up after the first couple of harmless pranks. A water bottle disappearing from the bench mid workout. Things being moved around when their backs were turned. The sound of Price calling for them around the corner, only for him to not be there, and when they find him, he claims to have never called. At one point Soap was bombarded by a hailstorm of bouncy balls from unknown origin. All, and yes all, of Ghost's masks/balaclavas were missing. Not that he minded, he often went without it while on base, but it was still irritating. Gaz woke up with all of his clocks in his room, and came back to them all missing. Fun.

These were all things Price would do, or has done, so they hadn't thought much of it.

It was finally when they were all in Price's office that they realized he couldn't possibly be behind these. He was listening to them complain about the day so far, as he kept them all too busy to get at each other. As they complained, he quietly and calmly put everything on his desk away, leaving the top of the desk completely bare. None of them noticed, or if they did, they didn't care to comment, probably because of the casual confidence he did that with.

He watched with a straight face as a ceiling panel above them opened up. He couldn't stop the smile as a large bucket was tipped out of the opening, and cold water spilled out right on top of them. It was incredible, the screaming in unison as the water landed on Ghost's head and falling down onto the sergeants on either side of him.

Price claims his tears of laughter were actually from how beautiful the scene was. The boys were cursing up a storm, shaking off excess water like dogs and making rude finger gestures towards their captain. He was laughing so hard it sent him into a coughing fit, and the boys quickly realized they could hear laughter coming from the ceiling as well.

Gaz was the first to notice and look up at Price's little accomplice. She gave him a big grin, a little snort of laughter accompanying. Gaz just shook his head, shocked and also a bit disappointed. There's NO way he's ever going to get revenge on this trickster.

Ghost and Soap look up at the same time as Bailey snorts again, and they quickly drop any anger. Soap sticks his tongue out at her as Ghost glares at Price, who was still laughing. Ghost helps her down from the ceiling (after she accidentally dropped the plastic bucket onto Soap's head), and she goes bouncing over to her dad. They high five, both still chuckling, and her smile making her cheeks hurt.

As the three walked back to their respective quarters to change into dry clothes, their missing possessions safe in their arms, they couldn't help but laugh.

"She looked so devious, the little traitor." Gaz had said with a fond laugh.

"It was nice to hear her laughing that hard. Guess I'm okay with being the butt of the joke if it makes her happy." Ghost had added.

"Aye, a father has to bond with his kid somehow." Soap had said, and the conversation left at that.

Back in Price's office, Price sat with Bailey, a happy smile on both their faces as she called Nik to share what happened.

Yeah, she was starting to really like it here.

[tactical-jellyfish]

Watcher 1-1

Chapter Six!!!

Warnings!: The 141 will be criminally stupid, fumblers, all of them. Death (canon-typical), Violence (canon-typical), loss of limb (no, I won't tell you who yet >:), but I will cover the symptoms as well as possible) They do get kissy, but no smut (that I'm writing, but it's very much implied).

Warnings for this specific chapter: (technically) main character death, written descriptions of injury, gore and blood talk. Included reference and experience with post-surgery symptoms of various degrees of seriousness.

Sometimes, during major traumas, people can "see" what is often described as a snapshot of a particular moment, sometimes several.

You can mentally hear a sweetened voice, masculine but tender, reminding you of that, even in the depths of your own bruised brain.

There's a loud beeping beside you, and everything hurts. Your head, your chest, your legs... it's varied, too. A throb of agony with each beat of your heart in some places, a wave-like wash of dull pain in others.

Something is wrong with you, and you don't know what.

You know, however, that your eyes are heavy, and your lips and nose are covered by an oxygen mask. The straps, thin and stretchy, still dig into your cheeks a bit.

The pain in your leg is the most present, but the monumental task that has become opening your eyes is interrupted by something else opening.

The door, to the white-walled room where you sit.

A curly-haired head is peeking through, and there's a gasp when they seemingly see that you're not dead.

"Holy shit. I have to call someone."

That's all the warning you're granted before they're scampering off, leaving the door ajar, and you to your own devices.

Your first attempt at movement incurs a harsh punishment from the binds that are your injuries.

The flash of tearing pain and hot blood in your veins is a cloying, clawing thing, and it pulls a noise from your throat, but it doesn't stop you.

No, no, what stops you is what your minds sees fit to conjure, at the sight you see.

The wrinkles of the blanket around your legs... it flattens, beneath the knee of the leg that was under rubble. Your left. There isn't anything there anymore.

Like a sick search engine, you're trapped in the moments you couldn't yet remember, stuck and helpless. Watching.

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

Price and Ghost stand over your body, talking heatedly as the Lieutenant fights to overturn the piece of concrete pinning you to the ground.

"I'm telling you, they're a liability, Simon. I won't put my team at risk just because you're partial to the first rookie you see that isn't utter dogshit."

His tone is final, but you can't look up, you can't plead your case.

You can just sit there and feel it, even as adrenaline starts to choke your senses and make your fingers tingle and jitter.

"So you're going to leave one of your own to get mutilated and immediately transfer?"

You feel your body tense. In the memory, in the real moment, you're not sure which. It might be both.

The Mancunian is harsh-voiced, like he's maybe one wrong look away from pistol-whipping Price over this. You can't see the look the captain gives him, but you know it must be bad, because his posture tenses so fast you hear his clothes rustle between the ringing of your ears.

"You want to risk it? Do you want to risk losing your Soap? Because they're too slow?"

Your chest is too tight for you to breathe right now, like you're being pressed in a vice, it only gets tighter. And still, your mind is racing too fast to handle any of this.

The oxygen is pumping into your veins, flooding your system more and more with every ragged, too-fast breath you take. It only makes you panic more, choke on the ugly, hard, confused sobs that want to leave your throat.

You don't know how long this state is the only thing you can feel, how long your existence is defined by this blind panic, but you know what pulls you from it.

"Hey. Did you know that frogs vomit by flipping their stomachs out through their mouth and cleaning it with their stupid frog hands?"

The question forces you to take a breath, shuddering as it is, and point wet eyes up at who's talking to you.

There's a man before you, crouching next to your side. He's your age–maybe a bit younger, he has suspiciously nice skin for someone who's wearing nurse scrubs–but he smiles crookedly as you realize how far you're falling.

"That trick always works."

He's uncomfortably smug, but there's a sort of sympathy in his eyes that makes your breathing halt as he gently slips the oxygen mask down just enough to let you breathe through your nose, taking in slower, shakier breaths. Like Laswell taught you to.

Maybe it's to comfort you, maybe it's because you look stupid, but the man grabs a tissue from your bedside and gently sponging off the tears from the corners of your eyes, cooing at you while he does.

"Right. You're okay, alright? Technically, I'm breaking the law by being here, by the way."

Your voice shakes terribly when you try to talk, raspy from disuse and strained from your own panic.

"What."

It doesn't sound like a question, but he answers anyway.

"I'm not any of your nurses, sugar. HIPPA violations, y'know?"

"... Still... leaving a veteran to wake up alone with one less leg than before don't sit with me."

His voice is gentle, and he's still sat in the plastic chair by your bedside, treating you like a piece of gold foil. Gently.

It should make you mad. You should want to beat his ass, for thinking you would ever need to be coddled like this. But you're tired, and the haziness of a painkiller cocktail is starting to nibble at your sense again. So you lay back down, slowly.

His hands help you by habit, even though he removes them from your shoulders when he sees you tense.

This is the first time you take a good look at him.

He's got a prominent nose, with a bump at the ridge, like it's been broken and reset. Blue eyes, that catch the sterile light and glint. You shudder at how it reminds you of Soap. of John.

But he's different. his stubble is lighter, trimmed closer to the cheek. His jaw is stronger, his hair is different. He wears a simple, thin black mask, for sanitation's sake.

There's a stupid little name-tag pinned at his breast, written with borderline chicken scratch. It reads: Hi!, my name is Keegan.

He knows you're looking down, and he smiles just a little bit. When you open your mouth, try to talk. He cuts you off.

"I already know your name from the charts. Don't strain yourself, I think the stern lesbian woman would kill me if I made your condition even a little bit worse."

The smile, the stupid joke makes the tiredness subside, for even a second. He grins when he sees your lips twitch up a little bit, his eyes crinkle at the corners, warm and playful. Almost fond.

It will take a long time. And a lot of work. But you have... someone here. Not a friend. Not yet. But he's still someone.

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

[noctxj]

the reaper | part i

as far back as human memory can recall, the origin of flower marks remains unknown. if perhaps they came during or after the birth of humanity, or are benevolent gifts from the gods to aid ones navigation in life— milestones to remember and learn from, a north point on a compass lest you stray from your path. regardless, they have always been. and while flower marks remain an important aspect of ones journey, there is none other more significant than the soul flower mark. wherein the moment someone is born, this mark blooms above ones heart, as it is considered a pure reflection of who that person is and will be.

part i / part ii

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

so it was no wonder that during a gloomy winter evening, stricken screams of hysteria and the shrill wailings of a newborn baby echoed off the walls of the cold estate in a coalescing manner. the head midwife having no choice but to hurriedly pass the tiny squirming bundle to a reluctant nurse and focus on trying to placate the madam’s delirium— 

"that is no child of mine! keep that accursed child away from me! nurse--!" 

flower marks are a language all on its own, one that humans do not need to learn. rather, it is an inbuilt knowledge and understanding. and in the case for this newborn child, their soul flower mark had already predetermined their fate as forsaken.

as amidst the turbulent mess of bloodied towels and blankets, death had just been born. 

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

initially mesmerising in its opulent visage, its only when the mind catches up and registers its meaning that its beauty is quickly replaced with fear and alarm. 

a blooming grandiflora rose of black petals mixed with subtle hues of reds and haunting purples rests above the girls heart, with bramble-like stems arching up across her frail collarbones to ensure it is there to stay.

a black rose, promising the bearer as the omen of death.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

even at such a young age, the cruelty of fate had already determined that little flora would not be given mercy or reprieve from the reality that is her cursed existence. a forsaken trail of purple anemones had lightly entangled itself amongst the thorny stems of her soul flower, almost as if to placate its loneliness. 

a swath of lilies of the valley sprawl from her left shoulder over and down her shoulder blade, the burning trail of pain and suffering almost numb to her senses. 

and then upon the delicate skin of her left wrist lay a singular bloom— a moonflower, reflecting little flora’s most earnest thoughts, dreaming of love from her own mother.

all these marks permanently etching themselves into little flora’s skin before her third birthday.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

despite living under the same roof as her mother, rarely did little flora see her; instead following in her late grandfathers footsteps as a ruthless businesswoman, silver spoon in her mouth and all. instead she herself was always surrounded by staff always heeding to her mother’s orders, to "always have that child within your sights", with an ever rotating door of tutors and nannies.

“madam, miss flora is an intellectually gifted child, it is quite remarkable! she has just—", 

"… so?" her mother had sharply interrupted, “a high level of intelligence is a common trait within this family. i expect you to provide the girl with more difficult material to not only accomplish but also excel in; anything less than perfect and dare i say failure to meet my— this family's standards, will not be tolerated. or are you stating that you are not competent enough to fulfil your tutor roles' duties and responsibilities?"

"i— no— my apologies madam, of course there is no problem. if you would allow me, i have colleagues who would be thrilled to assist in miss flora’s academic—"

"do as you please. now, i have an important meeting with a gentlemen flying in from st. petersburg. a mr. z it appears… the estate staff will assist with your queries about the girl. so do refrain from contacting me any further-"

so as determined as a young child her age could be, she promised she'd keep being good to strive for her mothers praise, be an obedient and perfect daughter that her mother would realise is worthy to be loved— despite her soul flower.

“a curse that should never be shown to anyone lest she receive punishment,” her mother would often remind her.

a punishment that envelopes the expanse of her back as raised scars. milestones just as permanent as her flower marks. more lilies of the valley creeping down her back. 

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

little flora never knew who her father was, had asked her mother once and received a harsh slap across her cheek, her small body whipping to the carpeted floor from the force. 

the silent burning of nightshade on her right pointer finger ironically mocking the hush motion.

she never cared to ask again. 

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

little flora remembers the day she believed her mother had finally saw value in loving her. barely eight years old and still holding onto that naive hope— and she foolishly believed she finally did.

waking up early in the morning as per her routine, only to see her mother sitting in the chair beside her bed, happiness written across her usually severe expression, looking at little flora herself. blinking once— twice— then rubbing her hands across her eyes to make sure what she is seeing is real and not a dream.

“good morning flora,” what is going on— “you and i have an agenda for today, so please come downstairs for breakfast once you’re ready.”

is today the day? did she finally do it? is her mother finally learning to love her—

“as it is a special occasion, i’ve taken the liberty of selecting your attire. now, off you go to wash up.”

little flora had been ecstatic, her heart thrumming like a hummingbird out of excitement to prove that her mother would not regret placing value on her. 

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

little flora’s only ever seen her mother’s soul flower once, only by chance of course. her evening robe slightly loose across her shoulders, her motions lax from the glass of wine she was nursing— a far cry from her usually sharp and elegant appearance. 

a beautifully victorious gladiolus cradled upon her chest. she envied it, a blessing to be born with. unlike herself. however, it wasn’t until later that she understood why her mother despised her existence so much.

as victory and death are eternal enemies— always on opposing sides. 

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“it is the perfect place for you to grow in flora, a place for you to finally thrive in,” her mother’s words had echoed in flora’s ears.

she doesn’t know how long ago that was.

she didn’t even feel alive.

flora’s small body strapped down to a cold metal table, no longer wearing the attire her mother had especially picked out for her. instead wearing a customised medical gown, allowing an unobstructed view of her accursed soul flower mark to the blurry shapes her dull gaze had tried to focus on.

the harsh clinical smell of the room burning her nose, and the glaring overhead lights further disorienting her senses. flora couldn’t move her head if she tried, a strap also tightly bound across her forehead attached to the metal table. 

what is this place? why would mother send me here? this is wrong, they must of got it wrong, i shouldn’t be here, i—

flora could feel the burning of a new mark directly below her soul flower. almost the same in size she guesses, if only she could move her head.

the agonising pain of a broken heart flourishing as a vibrant yellow rose.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.✦ . ˳

tric’s notes

this highkey spawned from my hanahaki disease fic. flower meanings/symbolism was a bit difficult to grasp (ie. countries, cultures, time periods), so don't take this too seriously lol. 

i was hoping to make this a oneshot but it just kept going ugh. this is unedited. part ii may be more backstory, part iii the boys will appear (no promises though, just a rough idea).

i recommend listening to “my flower” by ladies code. it’s a korean song but i think it matches the mood of this piece - so i encourage listening to it.

thanks for stopping by!! ♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username)

[toomanywordsnllines]

They're the Barbie girls... in their barbie worlds And Ghost is just Ken 😔 One day I shall draw Ghost's revenge 😏

[morimementa]

Gaz and König go out drinking with the rest of the 141. Despite his size, König is a complete lightweight and asks Gaz to walk him home so he doesn't run into a wall or some such. Gaz, all too eager to spend more time with him, agrees.

They get home nice and safe and König asks Gaz if he wants to crash on his sofa. He's drunk, but he's not too drunk to worry about his friend's safety. While Gaz is tipsily putting blankets on the sofa, he notices the other man gazing at him with something like awe.

"Something on my face?" Gaz tries to cut the tension with a joke.

König is sitting cross legged on the floor, swaying slightly. His expression shifts to one of intense consideration. Impulsively, Gaz reaches out and steadies him. They're face to face, no masks, just each other.

"Gaz..."

"Yeah?"

"Promise you'll hold me like this when I'm giving birth to our child?"

And before Gaz can fully process that, König's fallen asleep.

(I had an idea for the most out of pocket accidental confession and now I bestow it on all of you.)

[auspicioustidings]

The Wild Prince

Blue Blood Part 1

Summary: You are the Duchess of a small Kingdom and your father trades you away for military aid.

@chai-isms made the mistake of saying they liked a royalty AU and this... sort of didn't turn out anything like I had actually planned 😂 So sort of royalty AU ish? Maybe? IDK it's basically just shameless smut.

Word Count: 2.6k

CW: Mention of abuse, smut

Part 2

At least they hadn't put you in a dungeon you had thought at first, but after a month this room was driving you mad. The servant that delivered you food would not talk with you, would not answer any of your questions about what was going to happen to you.

The war had been raging for two years, but it had been a far away thing at the start. It was something so totally removed from your life in your father's castle that you weren't even fully aware that your side had been losing. It was only when he had returned six months ago and the way he looked at you had changed that alarm bells sounded in the back of your mind. While you may have not had a mother to tell you of such things, you knew enough from the gossiping of the servants when they thought you were not listening that you were of age to marry and as you were on only child, your father should try and make a match.

It made you bristle a little to think of. You managed the household well, was it so important that it must have a man at the head when he was gone? 

And then the war had come to linger in your home, blanketing your days with the unease of something being kept from you. When your father had them pack you up into a carriage you raged at him, only earning a backhand straight across your cheek that left an angry mark, a thin line in the middle of the bruise from his ring having split the flesh. He had growled that this marriage was how you could finally be good for something, informing you then that he had remarried and his new wife was expecting a child. It had put you in a state of numb shock that lasted for the whole week of travel.

You had tried your whole life to be worthy of your family name, to be a good daughter. It had been for nothing. Your father was sending you off as some sort of bargaining chip to give him an edge in this war and there was not one thing that you could do about it. 

Now you could only pass your days gazing out of the window and wondering where on earth you were. If only you hadn't been in such a daze, had actually taken some study of your surroundings when you had arrived. You had been taken to the room in this tower immediately on your arrival, hardly able to discern what was happening through your hazy misery. There had been people around you knew, you remembered somewhat foggily a thumb dragged across the fading mark on your cheek. A low growl, a bitten off curse. 

As the night fell you sighed at the sound of the bath being drawn for you in the other room. This was the routine, every second night a bath was drawn for you, candle light dancing across the water when you sunk down into that wet heat. The servant would be gone and you would bathe alone. After a lifetime of having maids scrub at you it was strange at first, but peaceful in a way. 

Tonight was much the same, your muscles relaxing as you let your head roll back and closed your eyes. The sound of someone entering startled you, opening your eyes slowly to look over. You had been prepared to see the meek servant, not a young man dressed regally who did not seem the least bit concerned that he had walked in on you in such a vulnerable and improper state. 

You didn't yelp, the noise caught in your throat. Instead you curled in on yourself, trying to hide any view of the delicacies of your body from his gaze. He walked closer, kneeling by the bath so he was so close that you could smell the orange oil from his fingers. 

"Do you know who I am?" he asked with a gallant smile. It was as if he was some potential suitor at a revelry instead of a stranger in your bathing chambers.

You shook your head, feeling like the water had turned to freezing and locked up all of your muscles. He was handsome in a way that bordered on overwhelming, the brown of his skin and eyes catching the light from the candles to make him almost seem holy in the way he glowed. 

"My name is Kyle Garrick" he said and you felt the panic you had been holding down burst out of you.

Kyle Garrick, the 3rd Prince of the largest Kingdom on the continent, the one that bordered your tiny Kingdom to the East. People called him the Wild Prince, the one who should never have been legitimised. Prince Garrick was not the Queen's son, his mother was a Princess of a conquered kingdom who the King had grown fond of, his favourite concubine. They said that the war hero and King's right hand, Duke John Price, had trained the Wild Price himself. The Duke had won countless battles that changed the fortunes of the Kingdom with Prince Garrick by his side. They said the Duke's men were all monsters of some sort or other. The Wild Prince. The Ghost. The Blood Druid. The men were practically fairy stories to someone like you, not living and breathing people that you might one day meet. 

"Y-your royal highness! Please forgive my rudeness" you cried, head snapping down in supplication. You were a nobody to a Prince, some minor Duchess in a tiny bordering Kingdom. To be naked in front of him was wrong on so many levels. 

He laughed and the warmth of it sent shivers down your spine and tears to your eyes. Your eyes were fixed on the water as his fingers started to dip into it, moving back and forth and coming dangerously close to your legs still pinned to your chest.

"Look at me Duchess" he said and you found yourself giving a quick shake of your head. How could you look at him? You were shaking, naked, completely unworthy to be in his presence. 

"I said look at me" he ordered, your chin roughly pulled up with the hand not playing with the water near your legs. Gone was the gallant smile, his eyes now dancing with the amusement of a predator playing with their prey, your own eyes widening when you felt the brush of his fingers on your bare shin. The hand on your chin moved your head to the side.

"Good, your cheek has healed up. Couldn't have you getting married with a marked up face now could we?"

You didn't know what he wanted you to say. You were desperate to be anywhere but here, his presence was oppressive, bearing down on you and making your insides feel like they were fizzing. You had never felt so vulnerable. He didn't seem to mind your silence, only smirking and running his fingers up your shin more deliberately, taking delight in the way your pupils dilated and your breathing hitched. 

"That little bitch on the throne is blocking me from granting Ghost a proper title, I can imagine her face when she realises he's married the sole noble of the Western territory."

You could barely concentrate and he ran his hand up and down your leg, cresting over your knee occasionally causing the brush of his pinky against the swell of your breasts. That fizzing heightened and you involuntarily shifted, feeling a jolt between your legs from the friction of squeezing them together. You tried to focus, to keep your eyes on him and actually find out what was going on. If the whole situation wasn't already wildly improper you were sure you would have reacted with more horror at him addressing the Queen of this nation as a little bitch.

"I don't... Western territory? I am sorry your Royal Highness, I'm only a Duchess of the Kingdom to the West. I'm not a noble of any of the territories here," you said, not able to keep your voice even and instead hearing the breathlessness of it floating through the steam. 

"There is no Kingdom to the West Duchess, not after the Duke dared to mark what wasn't his to touch," the Prince cooed, as if it wasn't something world shattering to have said. Your Kingdom had been fighting a war with another small Kingdom for years only to be conquered in the space of a month. For you. They had conquered a whole Kingdom because of a mark on your cheek. 

You were overwhelmed, heart beating violently fast and frozen muscles going pliant. Plaint enough for him to apply pressure and shift your legs a little so they weren't completely pinned against your chest, allowing his exploration to continue past your knee and to your thigh. You heard a desperate whimper on the air, confused when you realised a second after it must have come from you. 

The Prince chuckled, shifting his body so that he could guide your head to his shoulder, holding a hand to your hair to keep you there. Your hands came to cling to his shirt, soaking it. You didn't know what was happening to you and it was grounding to be able to bury your face into him, cutting off your sight so you could try and get a handle of your other senses.

"That's it Duchess, just relax yeah? Ghost doesn't want to break you on your wedding night, so we're going to work on getting you nice and ready for him until then" he whispered right behind your ear. 

You didn't know what he meant. Nobody had ever prepared you for what happened on the wedding night, until a month ago you hadn't even known you were to be married so soon. When his hand finally dipped between your legs to cup at you there you cried out, tears spilling over at the new sensation. 

"Gods you've never-" he growled lightly, only stopping himself when he felt you tense to pause and readjust his voice to be gentler as he carefully ran a finger up your slit. "Bet they told you it was a sin, that you couldn't touch yourself here" he groaned when he felt the change in texture from water to arousal. 

They had their work cut out for them getting you ready for the Hunt. MacTavish would oversee the ritual of it obviously, would massage the divine oils into your flesh and dress you properly to be released into the woods after the wedding ceremony. When Ghost hunted you down and took what was rightfully his it would seal the marriage in the eyes of the old Gods, but he would be in a frenzy from the incense, incapable of preparing you properly in his pursuit of sinking into your heat and marking you his from the inside. So they would have to do what they could for you beforehand, spend the next week before the ceremony doing everything to keep you wet and wanting.

Kyle, clear headed and not under the influence of any of Johnny's bloody Druid smokes or potions, already found it hard to keep calm. The noises you were making, it was like a challenge being presented to him to get you to make more. Get you boneless and begging for it. When he started to make firm circles on your clit he got unbearably hard at the broken moan spilling from your lips as your hips started to move.

You felt like you were standing on the top of a tower looking over the edge, your stomach in knots. You had been told it was sinful to touch yourself in this way and in your efforts to be only the best daughter you could be you had taken heed and never tried. But this? Gods it was setting you ablaze. You could feel your insides clenching on nothing, feel your hips lifting to push against his fingers. He was speaking absolute sin into your ear and it made every sensation more intense, sending pulses of pleasure straight down to your core.

"Doing so well Duchess, pretty little clit taking it so well. Doesn't it feel good?"

You whined incoherently. You were desperate for something you couldn't name, feeling incomplete.

"I know Duchess, I know. Beautiful cunt wants something to clench on, greedy little thing" he said, fingers leaving your clit to trace down and circle your entrance, teasing with just the tip of his finger pushing against you before he growled and returned to your clit with renewed vigour. "You're going to cum for me. You're going to cum just like this tonight and tomorrow I'll make sure you get a finger inside to squeeze yeah? Fuck love going to get you to beg for my tongue, get Price to teach you how to ask real nice for it."

You couldn't really focus on the words anymore, too lost in the approaching crest of this wave. Kyle was mostly saying them for himself now anyway, hips rutting away against the side of the tub to try and get some relief. 

The orgasm was the most intense thing you recalled ever feeling, body going taught like a bowstring as the Prince brought you through it with his fingers. Your whole body felt like it had been flooded with sensation and then all at once you were boneless, limbs dead weights.

"Good girl Duchess."

You were shivering now, the water having cooled. When his hand left the water you went to move your head, but his other hand kept it there. You could hear the sound of skin on skin, his hot breath at your ear getting heavier and more strained before the sound stopped after a loud groan from him. You weren't sure what was going on, but it made you tingle a little again between your legs. 

His hand returned to the water, dipping in and out a few times before he finally let your head out from his shoulder. The dim light hurt your eyes after so long in darkness and before you could try and ask him what had just happened he scooped you out of the tub, not caring that he was getting his clothing completely soaked in the process.

The next 10 minutes were confusing and blurry in your mind, him drying you off and dressing you for bed like he was a servant rather than the Prince of a Kingdom that had just conquered yours. He tucked you in, bade you goodnight and made his way to the door. 

You thought that was it until he paused, tensed. Was he going to reveal that this had been a test and you had failed? Were you about to be thrown out? You had never felt so thoroughly ruined and anxious before. What did he want from you?

Kyle knew he shouldn't, but fuck it, what was the use in being a Prince if he couldn't indulge in the small things every once in a while. He whirled around, marched back to you in the bed and pressed a hard kiss to your lips before leaving again, making sure to lock the door behind him. Price was leaning on the wall in the hallway waiting for him, raising an eyebrow when taking in the absolute state Kyle was in.

"Fine" Kyle sighed, "I admit that this was a good idea, you were right and I should never have doubted you and your magnanimity. Happy?"

"Cheeky today Gaz?"

"Nah, just taking the piss. It was a good call Sir, she'll be good for Ghost."

He licked his lips on his way to his chambers and felt a rush of heat at the taste of you lingering there. Not just Ghost he thought.