#Scar's SoapGhost Fics

[amongthebooks]

did you miss me?

FANDOM: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II/III (Reboot)

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley / John 'Soap' MacTavish (SoapGhost)

WORD COUNT: 870 words

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

Thinking about Soap and Ghost who constantly greet each other by asking “Did you miss me?”

It started off small. 

The phrase first spoken whenever Soap joined Ghost for breakfast at their usual booth. Every morning he’d slide in on the same side, knocking knees with the other man as they squished together despite the empty bench on the other side. 

“Did you miss me?” Soap would ask, even though they had only spent a night’s rest apart. Even though the previous day was spent entirely in one another’s company.

Ghost was no better, using the phrase whenever he entered a room - regardless of how long it had been since he had left it. How could he not, when Soap would always perk up at his return each time?

It didn't matter if he left for a few minutes to use the bathroom, or to grab paperwork from his office, or what. Without fail, he’d always slot himself back at Soap’s side, a hidden smirk pulling at his lips.

“Miss me, Johnny?”

Neither knew exactly how it started. If it was meant to be a joke or if a sincere question hid beneath those words. 

Honestly, it took surprisingly little before it became second nature. The question was their thing. And the more they used it, the more its meaning grew. 

When the 141 were wrapping up a week long mission- one where they all ended up split between the supporting units- it was Ghost who pushed through the sea of soldiers until he was at Soap’s side again. Eyes raking over the man’s mud-stained gear for any signs of a wound in his absence. 

“ ‘d you miss me, sergeant?” Ghost asked. His tone made it seem like just another question asked by the superior, though it didn’t stop the underlying check-in from coming through.

Are you hurt?

And despite the fact they weren’t yet on safe soil, still locked into their commanding roles, the tension visibly released from both of their shoulders at the realization that they had made it to exfil safe.

“Don’t think there was enough time for that, sir,” Soap quipped without missing a beat.

I’m solid, now.

When the team was sent on mandatory leave– most of them returning to their families for the duration– it was Soap who constantly checked on Ghost. Knowing that the man would have chosen to spend their break back on base. 

Somehow, he seemed to constantly run into things that reminded him of his lieutenant, and never hesitated to call him about it. Each time, the phone would only ring once before Ghost answered. As if he was waiting for their daily chat. 

Right before he’d dive into a story about a ghost-themed trinket he saw, or a new restaurant he tried, or an animal he ran into, Soap would always start by asking–

“Miss me yet?” His singsong voice never failing to get a chuckle out of Ghost. 

Is everything alright?

“You’re the one that can’t seem to stay away,” the man would respond on the other side of the line. Despite knowing that he was about to happily listen for hours as Soap updated him about his day. 

Thank you for checking in on me.

Again, and again, and again they fell into the familiar cycle of always checking in with each other. Always coming up with a reason. There was nothing ever official between them, but it served as reassurance and comfort all the same. The care that they showed one another was just so clear. 

Things finally progressed when the two of them were sent on back to back solo ops, forced to go months without seeing each other. 

Soap barely waited for the helo to touch down before finding his way to Ghost’s door. It was late, and he knew his arrival wouldn’t have been shared with the team yet, but that didn’t stop him from knocking anyway. 

The door opened by the third tap, revealing a surprised Brit on the other side. There were clear bags under his eyes, and curls poking out from his mask that was haphazardly thrown on. No doubt having been woken from deep sleep. 

But it didn’t stop Ghost’s expression from softening as he wordlessly stepped aside, letting Soap into his space before shuffling back to bed. He trusted Soap enough to not need to keep an eye on him as he did whatever he came for. 

When he felt the bed dip minutes later, rolling over to accommodate Soap after his gear was removed, Ghost simply threw an arm over the other man. It was the first time they had shared a bed, but the milestone felt nothing but natural. 

As they held each other tightly, making up for their time spent separated, Ghost mumbled fondly into the darkness-

“I missed you.”

And the body that curled around him whispered just as sweet, “I missed you too.”

[buckdefencesquad]

I fully hc ghost ugly as FUCK under that mask. It’s not even to do with all the scars, he’s just uglyyyyy. It’s one of the reasons he wears the mask (though he likes to pretend it’s not). He’s not even “ugly hot” he’s just ugly. He’s made (some) peace with it. Hasn’t let it bother him in years and then in comes pretty boy Soap.

Then he has to deal with Soap being friendly AND flirting with him. So he’s mean, tries to put him off by snapping and snarling like the junkyard dog he is. And Soap LOVES it. It just makes him flirt harder. So Ghost gives in and flirts back. They become friends. They become…. more. (Emotionally, nothing has actually happened yet). Then just before the mission El Sin Nombre, Soap is like “fuck it, I’m shooting my shot” gets Ghost alone, presses him against the wall and kisses him through the mask, hard and desperate (with tongue. Don’t judge Soap, he’s wanted it for a while and it might be his last chance).

Ghost is stunned, bamboozled, flabbergasted! Soaps hands didn’t even TRY and move his mask, they just made a home for themselves on his hips. Soap pulls away, winks and saunters off like the cocky prick (affectionate) he is. Ghost finds himself pressing his tongue against the fabric of his mask, trying to see if he can taste Johnny (he can’t). They don’t get to address anything because (they don’t get the chance) and then obviously Alone happens. Ghost is spiralling a little as he waits for Johnny. Hates himself for thinking “at least he never got the chance to change his mind when he saw my face” when he thinks Johnny is dead. But then obviously Johnny lives.

Ghost can’t stop thinking about how it’ll all change when Johnny sees him, he needs the team to trust him. Two birds, one stone. Johnny doesn’t react, doesn’t say anything at the table. Ghost knows what that means. He’s used to rejection but it’s never felt quite like this.

He takes five minutes alone in the bathroom to mourn what could have been, what he could have had if he just never. took. off. the. mask. He’s kicking himself, he’s angry, upset, miserable, heartbroken!

Then he pulls himself together, shoves his feelings downs deep and rips the door open, ready to fight. Killing graves will make him feel better.

Johnny's waiting on the other side of the door. Ghost goes to quietly move out of his way. He doesn’t get the chance, Johnny shoves him back into the bathroom, slams and locks the door.

Ghosts first thought is about how he can take Johnny down without permanently damaging him. He knows what he’s there for, to kick the shit out of him for leading him on. Letting him think Ghost was attractive. He gets ready to fight.

Soap yanks the mask off, exposing Ghosts face to the harsh bathroom lighting. He’s kind of pissed, no one ever looks good in fucking fluorescent lighting (Johnny does, of course). It just makes him feel worse.

Soap shoves him up against the sink and kisses him. If Ghost thought Johnny was desperate during their first kiss, he’s downright ravenous in this one. He can feel him hard against his thigh. Ghost is even more shocked than the first time. They hear the “time to go” and Soap pulls away, winks and saunters off. Ghosts only thought is “what the fuck just happened”

[sparkystarlight]

😴

Do not repost

[inkformyblood]

kiss me quick (COD Kinktober 2024 Day 12)

Sex pollen, a/b/o dynamics. Alpha Soap, Alpha Alejandro, Beta Rudy, Omega Ghost. SoapGhost, AleRudy, AleGhost, SoapRudy, AleRudySoapGhost. Lemon. (Longer fic will be coming for this prompt, I really enjoyed writing it<3)

There’s blood smeared across Alejandro’s teeth — his own, his lower lip swollen and split, torn open a few seconds prior — and he catches himself against the table, shoving it backwards with the force of his impact. Stupid fucking officials and their stupid half-brained decisions, may they rot—

A flush of heat rolls through him, the beginnings of his rut drawn on four months too soon, overwhelming the bitter chemical tang of the suppressants he takes to regulate his cycle. Alejandro tears at his sleeves, the thin fabric clinging to his sweat-soaked skin before it rips, and lets the tatters drop free. Across the room from him, Ghost prowls, his mask partially shoved up his face and caught in the snarl of his teeth. What little Alejandro can see of his skin is flushed, pale scars standing out in stark relief around his lips, a smear of blood over the corner of his mouth.

They hadn’t even been exposed fully, the canister deploying at Soap’s feet first as the gas billowed out. Not a standard chemical weapon but something experimental so when they had staggered back to base with Rudy tucked beneath Soap’s arm to keep the man upright, Beta pheromones the only thing keeping him awake and moving, and Alejandro with Ghost’s teeth locked into his shoulder tight enough that he scraped against bone, they were bundled into rooms as they stood. 

Separated.

It would make sense on paper, Alpha with a Beta and an Alpha with an Omega and it’s that alone that’s keeping Alejandro upright, keeping him furious. Should have least been able to buy the other set of men a drink first before broaching the idea Rudy had whispered into his ear after their first meeting; the pair folded into the closest supply cupboard and Alejandro’s hands tucked down Rudy’s trousers. 

His Rudy always has the best plans.

“Was going to—“ Alejandro breaks off as Ghost growls, a distant rumbling like the passing of a train several floors down. The other man hasn’t moved from the opposite wall since they’d been deposited into this holding room, Soap and Rudy kept away by one single barrier. He continues, the tang of iron heavy over his tongue. “Was going to ask you both properly, maybe over a few drinks, but we want to fuck you. Both of you.”

Ghost straightens, the movement nearly imperceptible in the gathered shadows next to the wall. “Soap was— He was going to ask you.” He slowly slides down the wall, hands bunched  into tight fists on his thighs. “He’s better at that sort of thing.”

“My Rudy as well.” Alejandro steps forward, chances another when Ghost doesn’t snarl at him for the intrusion. A third step brings him in front of the other man, in reach of his still-bared teeth, a low growl tumbling from Ghost’s throat. “We chose well, yes, Ghost?”

Alejandro bites at his knuckles, his bones beginning to ache from the oncoming wave of want that is burning through his belly, a desperate scramble to remain upright and not wrap his hands around his cock and squeeze until he’s spilling the first of many releases onto the floor. Ghost isn’t faring much better, his hips swaying, grinding himself against the caught seam of his trousers. There’s a sweet scent in the air, something that reminds Alejandro of the little sachets of tea Soap carries with him, vaguely citrus and sharp. 

Ghost chews his lower lip, his fangs indenting the skin. Hesitation is clear in the line of his shoulders, the tight grip on the fabric of his trousers. 

“You can fuck me,” Alejandro offers, splaying his hands wide. “I don’t mind.”

There’s a gleam in Ghost’s blown-wide eyes, his pupils dark and blotting out the thin strip of brown around them, curiosity merging with a fierce desire. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Alejandro crouches and leans backwards, reclining onto the cold floor. 

Ghost moves quickly, one hand planted on Alejandro’s chest and pushing him flat to the ground while he braces himself with the other as Alejandro wraps his legs around Ghost’s hips, tugging him closer. 

“Talk later,” Alejandro murmurs, tipping his head back to expose his throat, the mating scar over the scent gland on his throat. “We’ll talk later.”

A growl tears free from Ghost and he bites Alejandro once more, an action Alejandro knows to be an agreement. 

[hawkeykirsah]

Take Me for a Ride, Ch. 2

Chapter 2 of my 5+1 Soapghost fic is up! Enjoy!

Excerpt:

Simon rested one hand behind his head, eyes open as he looked up at the sky, and all Johnny could do was stare, taking in the crooked nose and scarred lips and strong chin. He could admit that Simon probably wasn’t the most conventionally handsome man but in his eyes he was downright beautiful. His eyes traced over the curve of his nose and cheekbones and plush lips and the strong line of his jaw.

“You’re staring, MacTavish,” the subject of his ruminations stated, brown eyes sliding his way.

“Well aye, got something worth starin’ at.” Like watching that slow smile curl Simon’s lips. He wished he’d brought his sketchbook along but who knew he’d be treated a maskless Simon Riley under a starry sky? Heat began to pool in his gut. He really wanted to kiss those lips. 

[siriussimon]

SoapGhost fic shotgunning cigarettes?

a/n: i like the way you think anon. hope you enjoy your little heart out.

warnings: smoking, suggestive, kissing, hinted pricegaz!, drinking, that’s it i think?? nothing crazy just two sexy men who are down bad for each other.

It was nice having nights like this. The task force, 141 crew had successfully completed their mission and were able to have some deserved time away from the usual chaos. Luckily everyone had made it back in one piece, a few new scars here and there, but the job was done. The boys were currently all seated in a booth at some local bar that was nearby. Already having a few rounds of drinks the atmosphere buzzing with life all around them.

Price and Gaz were sitting side by side while Soap was sat next to Ghost. It seemed to always work out that way. Soap gravitates towards his lieutenant, how could he not? He looked up to the man— quite literally— but seriously, he had admiration for the masked man. The booth was a bit tight now that he thought about it, or maybe it was just because he was sat next to one of the biggest guys he knows. Of course, Soap wasn’t so little himself. Their thighs were pressed together, sometimes it felt like Ghost was pressing himself closer to him, maybe it was just the buzz of the beer that was clouding Soaps mind.

“Not to get sappy, but you did good out there lads. Proud to have you boys on the team.” Prices voice getting his attention back, his mind was too busy spacing out about the man next to him.

They all nodded their head in approval, appreciating their Captains words after a long and strenuous mission. They needed this. Needed time away. Needed some normality. That closeness…

“You’re proud of me, old man?” Gaz’s voice chirped playfully at his captain, only receiving a grumble from John, and knowing eyes that made Gaz’s lips quirk into a smirk. Soaps eyes diverted from them, feeling like he was intruding on their moment for some reason… He slightly turned his body to Ghost, his body language stoic as always.

“Got ourselves another win huh, L.t?” Soap voiced out, deciding to try and have a go at a conversation with Ghost. They would speak here and there but not in places like this, not this close to each other, this was different.

Ghost craned his neck towards Soap, giving him a small nod.

“You did good, sergeant.” Was all was said as he got him from his seat, walking out from the booth as he gave Price a pat on the shoulder, a muffled, ‘gonna have a smoke’ was barely made out by Soap before the large figure walked away and disappeared into the crowd.

Soap felt a sharp sting in his chest, an unfamiliar burn, something he wish he didn’t feel. His usual confidence felt like it depleted in that moment, the alcohol was definitely getting to him.

“What are you waiting for, mate?” Kyle spoke up with that same knowing smirk from earlier.

“What?”

“You know what. Go ahead, you won’t be missed.” He chuckled out, making Soap shake his head as he got up from his seat. Kyle was a smart ass.

Soap pushed through the clouds, eyes wandering around trying to see if he’d noticed a 6’4 man in a skull mask. He had eventually made it all the way to the back of the building, the exit sign glowing red above him. Opening the door, the cool breeze instantly hit him as he stepped outside. It was a small alleyway, the moon illuminating the small space. The smell of nicotine was strong, making Soaps head move into a certain direction that so happened to be where Ghost was standing. Tall frame leaning up against the brick wall of the building. Cigarette in hand. His baklava pulled up to the bridge of his nose, scarred lips on display.

“Not havin’ fun, L.t?” He questioned, his voice with a hint of playfulness.

“Hm, you know I don’t like big crowds.” Soap only nodded as he made his way over to his lieutenant. Pressing his own back against the wall as he just stood in silence. Soap didn’t do silence that much. He was very talkative— all the time in fact— but right now, his words fell short of him. Something about Ghost— No, Simon, had his heart racing.

“Can I?” Johnny’s voice came out more softer than usual, as he turned his up to look at Simon, gesturing to the cigarette in his glove covered hand.

Simon only nodded, handing the cigarette to him, eyes never leaving Johnnys face as he took a long drag before he held it back towards him.

“So, if you don’t like this sort of thing. What do you like, L.t?” He questioned with a playful smirk rising on his face as he crossed his arms looking up at Simon.

“You ask a lot of questions, sergeant.” Simon grumbled out, smoke falling from his lips as he spoke.

“Fuck you, sir.”

“Hm, wouldn’t you like that?”

Johnnys ears perked up at that. It’s like his body instantly sobered up. He felt a familiar ache in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t just hearing things was he?

“Never seen you so quiet before… You want another?” Simons voice bringing him back to reality, his face felt hot, a bit embarrassed he got taken off guard by that. It was so out of the blue. Johnny always felt like his feelings were one sided but something was different.

“Yeah, yeah sure..” His voice trailed off, his hand reaching out for the cigarette, only to get his hand pushed away, his brows furrowed in confusion. Simon pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer to Johnny, very close, closer than usual.

“L.t? What are you doin’—“

Simons hand gripped Johnnys chin, his hold on him was firm. Johnnys eyes widened as he watched Simon take a big drag, before unexpectedly pulling his lips close to his, exhaling the smoke right into his mouth. Johnnys hand gripped at Simons hips, steadying himself from the pull, feeling his mind go hazy from the feel of his lieutenants lips on his own. He felt hot. His chest burned, not just from the smoke, but from his heart bursting from this action alone. Their lips disconnected, a small pant leaving Johnny as he blew out the smoke from his own mouth. His chin still in Simons hold.

“That was a big one. Knew you could take it well.” Simon spoke, thumb caressing the Scotsman chin softly. Johnnys fingers dug into Simons hips, pulling him against his own, his jeans feeling suddenly tighter.

“I can take— I can take anything you throw at me, sir.” His voice came out more shaky than he intended, not wanting to show how delirious he already was about his lieutenant.

“Hm, yeah? Bet you can.” Simon smirked before taking another big drag of his cigarette before chucking the bud to the ground. Now both his hands cupping Johnnys face before he pressed another opened mouth kiss to his, blowing the smoke inside his mouth.

Once again, Johnnys head fell back against the brick wall as the smoke left his lungs and into the night sky. He suddenly felt a soft kiss being placed along side his neck. A hum leaving his lips instead now.

“Does this answer your question, Johnny?” Simons voice said along side his neck, kissing down Johnnys jaw now.

“What quest— hm, question?”

“About what I like, sergeant.”

Johnny could barely stay coherent with what was happening right now. But he was enjoying every single second of it.

“You. I like you. Jus’ like this.” Simons voice whispered out, before his lips captured Johnnys into another kiss. This one deep, rough, desperate, his gloved hands gripped the sides of Johnnys neck. Hips pressed closed to one another.

The rest of the night continued just like this, limbs intertwined and lips pressed close. Just another win for the two soldiers.

‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿

this was longer than i anticipated but— i tried my best!! i haven’t wrote soapghost before but i hope i did them justice. love ya’ll. <3

[cod-fishing]

Mandalorian Ghost.

This may be very niche but I can’t possibly be the only person alive who both loves soapghost and also the absolute untouchable epic that is no-droids Mandalorian fanfiction Rough Day.

And I just love that fic so much, have reread it over and over an embarrassing number of times and in so many ways it feels so perfect for soapghost! We have the obvious parallel - an untouchable man with a hidden face and the onnneeee person who wriggles behind their barriers. But also, Mandalorian!ghost, a man without a name, a dead man, but one who has a guiding path in the Way the same way ghost has in the 141. And god, it’s just so juicy to have ghost - who is 100% terrified of being a father, of becoming his father - made to be a father. Especially because as a mandalorian, he would have a principle to face this fear and overcome it - Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la. Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be. This is the Way.

And god, SOAP! Johnny MacTavish, he’s nothing like Sweet Girl is, but also yes he is!! He would fight Ghost harder about staying behind and just staying with the baby all the time, but he would also take such pride in Ghost’s trust, in his knowledge that he can both care for and protect Ghost’s child, their child. And dear god, imagining Soap with a little green baby on his hip, doing the laundry and ensuring everything is in tip-top shape for when Buir gets home - I’m speechless. I’m salivating. And so is Ghost. And just like Sweet Girl, Johnny is a crack engineer, too. You know he would have the Crest in the best shape of its life. And he’s treat Ghost with the same care.

Now that I’m writing it out, the character parallels are coming easy, but I’ll admit I thought of this first 100% because of the smut. Because…oh my GOD. Rough day spoilers ahead but like…Johnny at the end of an alleyway, getting groped by Ghost, tits out and on display for anyone in canto bright to gaze upon. Johnny on the floor of the pitch-black ship, coming in and out of lucidity as ghost licks his hole, the scars on Ghost’s face pulling at the soft flesh of his thighs. Ghost, fucking Johnny into the forest floor like his life depends on it, praising him the whole way.

“I don’t want anyone to know you the way I know you”

I just love that fic so much, and I love soapghost so much 😭😭😭

[tactax-art]

I enjoy your Ghostsoap art and posts but I don’t play video games. I want to get into the ship/fandom but don’t know where to start. Any help would be appreciated ❤️ Thanks

Welcome to the fandom I guess :D I'm putting my reply under the read more (and have a sleepy Ghost, just cause :)

Disclaimer, I've only gotten into this in february, it's been uuuh 2 months. I'm not a canon-phile, but i do like to know that basics, despite not playing games a lot either.

I did start with just the soapghost scenes (x), but after that i wanted to know what the heck is going on with the plot so I went for the full one.

First off, what confused the hell out of me until I asked a friend: There are two iterations of CoD:Modern Warfare2, the 2009 one and the 2022 reboot. They carried over characters, but seem to have revamped both them and the plot (though idk how much they changed the plot).

I'd recommend watching the movie style playthroughs (cutscenes + only story/dialogue relevants of gameplay) on youtube, this is the one I watched (x). (I get motion sick when watching fps 'lets play's, but this one was alright, probably because there's lots of cutscene breaks!)

There are also of course their wiki entries Soap & Ghost.

Regarding the preboots again, here's some stuff that is pretty commonly referenced in fic and art but it's actually from the 09 canon: everyone canon dies, Soap being captain, soap's eyebrow scar, soap being an artist/keeping a journal, ALL of ghosts backstory (afaik we got nothing on 22!ghost).

Hope this helped!

[drolly-rolly]

SoapGhost Zombie Brain Rot (ha ha)

“Never said he bit me. He did a damn lot more than that, actually.” (AKA I should be finishing up my other fic but I fucking love World War Z, the book, and one stupid thought lead to a bunch of zombie-apocalypse worldbuilding later and it wouldn't leave me alone. So here's a drabble that might become something once Punch Drunk is done).

“He’s no’ infected.” Soap said, voice level. Not so much as blinking as he stated plainly what might be the most dangerous lie of his new life. “Or at least, he’s no’ infectious if he is.”

“How can you possibly know that? We all know too well what the spread looks like. That scar, that eye, can’t have come from anything else.”

The Governors, or the Council or whatever this was formally called, wasn’t budging an inch on the issue. Understandable, all things considered.

Soap shrugged. “I’m nae saying I know how it works, I’m just telling you that he in’t infected.”

He left a deliberate pause at the end of his statement. It was a testament only to the position Soap apparently held that no one spoke again before he continued.

“Or at least, I’m telling you that he can’t spread it. He’s not infectious.” Said Soap.

“How can you be so sure of that?”

Ghost couldn’t even blame them, he’d seen too much fall to fault them for their caution.

“I’m standing here talking to ye, pretty sure I’m no howling zed-head, right?” Soap said.

Ghost had not touched Soap. Went well out of his meager remaining mind to keep himself from touching him.

“You passed all of your bite checks at the wall, MacTavish.” Responded one of the pampered, new age feudal lords on the dias above them.

Of course he had, Ghost would have ripped anything that came at Soap apart with his bare hands if nothing else.

“Never said he bit me. He did a damn lot more than that, actually.” Said Soap, and he somehow, just then, allowed himself to sound, fully, satisfyingly smug.

“MacTavish, what are you saying?” Someone from the high seats asked.

“I fucked him.”

Ghost's heart fucking stops. He might not be entirely sane anymore, probably never was, but he'd definitely fucking remember that.

Soap paused, then tutted in correction. “Well, he fucked me. And plenty o’ bodily fluids were exchanged. Real deep and quite a lot too, impressive amounts at his age honestly. We were both pretty pent up.”

Of course, it's only after he’d finished spilling the most beautiful fucking falsehood Ghost had ever heard that he’d deigned to bother looking back at him, caged in the corner like an animal. Worse than an animal, really. Everyone liked animals those days, rare as the tame ones fucking were after everything went to shit.

He’d never been good at keeping his emotions off his face, he’d worn a goddamn mask for half his life even before he’d gotten the truly damning scars he had now. And now Soap is there, beautiful and perfect as he ever was, literally trying to save Ghost’s worthless scrap of a life by setting his reputation on fucking fire. Ghost has no idea what expression he’s got on his face but his traitorous fucking dick is suddenly alive for the first time in years.

But he needs to keep his shit together.

Johnny said it all with the kind of naive loyalty that twisted something in Ghost’s chest. The kind of trust Ghost was sure he’d seen the last of. And even though there was no way he could have seen Soap’s eyes that night in Chicago he somehow fucking knew that they would have looked the same back then as they did in that fucking dank stone room.

Shining like lethal chips of glass.

Ghost tried very hard not to connect the undertone in Soap’s voice when he said ‘I fucked him.’ to the way that he’d sounded in his ear when he’d said ‘Watch the window’.

Soap must have seen something on his face, hopefully nothing that gave up too much but maybe he’d fucked up, because Soap keeps talking.

“I told you I was SpecOps right? Well, here’s something I didn't tell you. When I was a Sergeant I had this big, beautiful Lieutenant that I looked up to. Best shot in our squad, unmatched with anything that could hold an edge, plus he saved my life half a dozen times so it was only natural that I'd get this school boy crush. Never acted on it, obviously. Against regulations.”

Of course he picked that point to pause and turn back to Ghost in the corner, and those fucking blue eyes stared right at him when Soap continued.

“But when I saw the same fuckin’ man two years after the goddamn apocalypse, heart beatin’, lungs breathin’, and alive in every way that I could see…”

Just when Ghost feels he’s going to break his own fingers because his fists are clenched so tightly closed Johnny turns back to his waiting audience.

“Did ye ‘think I was gonna wait for some fucking prophylactics?”

[tinypandacakes]

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

💥What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

SOAP DYING!! 😭 But tbh I don’t stick terribly close to canon for anything I write. I try to be true to the characters in my own way

🔮Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer's block?

Ahh a duplicate — basically read lots and go walk outside helps me! Do something creative that is not staring at my google doc waiting for the words to come. Talk it out with a fandom friend

💌Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

I love any sort of power imbalance, porn with plot is my bread and butter. I love instant obsession/infatuation/love (whether it’s sort of wholesome like in delta tango foxtrot or darker like in trapper, keeper)

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

I’ve been sitting on this half-finished SoapGhost boot kink fic for like 1.5 yrs lol I should finish it…

NSFW, unedited, boot kink, implied D/s

“May have shown off a bit today,” Soap admitted, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“Mm,” Ghost hummed, finally releasing his grip on Soap’s hair. “And why would you do something like that, Johnny?”

Soap shrugged, eyes lowering once more. Something tightened within Ghost’s chest at the sight of the man kneeling between his spread thighs, dark lashes fanning over Soap’s flushed cheekbones, a delicate detail against his rugged, scarred features. Ghost caught the direction of Soap’s stare, once more fixated on the boots he had put on just for the occasion. It was a new pair, clean and unscuffed, the material still stiff and needing to be properly broken in, the scent of fresh leather strong enough to cut through the cigarette smoke.

Soap’s infuriatingly tight pants revealed the depth of his own desire, his cock obviously hard beneath the canvas. Ghost clicked his tongue in disappointment and nudged his boot upward toward Soap’s groin. The side of his shoe brushed against Soap’s clothed shaft, bringing forth a tight whine from him. Soap closed his eyes as he rocked his hips forward, seeking friction against the leather.

Ghost pulled his foot back, denying Soap what he craved. “I asked you a question, sergeant.”

“Wanted your attention,” Soap said, voice husky.

“There we go,” Ghost murmured. He smoothed back Soap’s hair and lifted his boot back into place. “Good boy.”

Soap let out a tight little whine and began to roll his hips against the boot at his groin, his cock straining against his trousers to get a taste of friction. It was difficult for Ghost to pretend that this did nothing for him, that his own cock wasn’t rock hard against his thigh.

“You should see yourself right now,” Ghost growled, his voice dark. “So fuckin’ desperate. What if the others saw you like this, humping my boot like a dog in heat? What would they think?”

Soap whimpered, an incoherent sound that shot straight through Ghost’s core. It was the kind of noise reserved only for him, needy and soft, vulnerable — and he needed to hear more.

“Maybe next time you decide to show off, I should just fuck you right in front of the others so they know who you belong to.” Ghost watched the furrow in Johnny’s brow deepen. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Soap’s eyes had been closed as he jerked his hips against the smooth black leather, leaning into Ghost’s leg for leverage. But at that, his eyelids fluttered back open, peering up at his superior, wide eyes shining with dampness. The rest of the degrading words Ghost had ready disintegrated at the sight of the man before him, Soap’s expression so open, trusting, wanting.

Ghost’s cock twitched against its canvas prison, far too small now, too hot. He unbuckled his belt and carefully pulled himself free of the garment, his cock springing out to stand out proudly from his lap. Precum already dripped from the swollen tip, shaft twitching as Ghost watched Soap's pretty pink tongue rolled across his lower lip to wet it, eager, always so eager.

“Christ, you’re needy,” Ghost rasped, the accusation fitting himself just as well. “Now, open up for me, Johnny.”

[tacticaltaxonomist]

Could we please have a bit of info on

Savour every bite

Spirit rifle au

Zombie au

Just the titles sound really interesting!

Yes you can, these are some of my favourites!!!

Spirit Rifle: This fic is a direct continuation of "Faded Flesh" by Nouna (with permission, highly recommend I love this fic so much), Soap get's Ghost safe, a smidgen of worldbuilding, and Price finding out about Soap.

Zombie AU: The fic is obvs soapghost and *post 141*. soap n ghost worked together, they had hella chemistry, they love their jobs too much to even *think* about threatening that with acting on that chemistry, so they just left things mutually unresolved. No bad blood or hurt feelings, it never went beyond barely-passes-for-flirting and very occasional eye-fucking. The whole makarov thing is wrapped up and 141 disbanded since it's purpose is done and everyone goes on with their job.  The fic starts a couple years past that and it's also a couple years into stereotypical zombie apocalypse setting, societal collapse, small communities of varying moralities, blah blah who cares. 

The person, infected, *Zombie* if you like, suddenly moves diffrerent though. Stands up straight, looks directly at him. Ghost is close enough now, maybe twelve meters, to make out that it's a man. Tall, dark hair, dressed from neck to toe, even sporting gloves despite the warm weather, all covered except for his head, suntanned skin but more importantly *unstained*.  *Fuck*. "Been a while since I saw a face like that," the man calls out.  There are several things wrong with this. Take a moment to figure what's wrong with this. Ghost's face if covered with a black balaclava that has a skull face painted on it. He's speaking english even though they're in rural germany. His accent is scottish. He sounds impossibly, *achingly* familiar. And Ghost can't reply. He steps closer, cautiously, slowly, he *needs* to get close enough to make out the face. To see if it's really him.   "The quiet type then?" Ghost nods and takes another step.  "How bout this then. The mask-" he drawls it just the same as he had seven- eight-nine? years ago- "take it off." Ghost almost let's out a laugh, and shakes his head.  "Yeah that's fair, wouldn't know who to look for under that thing anyway, yeah?" He's grinning now, his eyes are the palest blue, a deep old scar on his chin, a new one that healed badly splitting his eyebrow and cheek. Brown hair grown out a bit but he clearly kept the mohawk. Soap. Undeniable and beautifully alive. All Ghost wants to do is pull him close, crush him into a hug, a mirror of their 'goodbye'. Reenact the most honest they've ever (wordlessly) expressed their affections for another before separating forever, each headed for different units, different purposes. Until now.  And Ghost can't. Mustn't. It's too dangerous. He can't risk it, he couldn't *bear* it. 

Savour every bite of you: Cannibalism fic, if this is not your jam just move on. Soap is a cannibal, he is not embarassed or grossed out by himself, but he does know that he has to be smart and secretive about it. He rarely indulges. He's well aware it's fucked up, but like, he also doesn't really get it. Ghost has intrusive thoughts about wanting to cannibalise people ever since roba fed him meat, but is very ashamed and unsettled by that craving and never acts (fully) on it. Soaps thing comes out through a bit of torture that their capturer thoguht was so clever, except Soap was very disturbingly excited for it. The rest of the fic is Ghost wrapping his head around all this and eventual Soapghost.

[amongthebooks]

{whumptober: day 9}

FANDOM: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II/III (Reboot)

PROMPTS: Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | "You're a liar." | "Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days."

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley / John 'Soap' MacTavish (SoapGhost)

WORD COUNT: 2.5k (AO3)

TAGS/CW: mistaken identity, misunderstandings, uncle Simon 'Ghost' Riley, light angst with a happy ending, hurt Simon "Ghost" Riley

SNIPPET:

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Soap asked in lieu of a greeting, still on his knees as he looked up to the masked man who stood over him. Hands shaking even after Ghost had pulled the polaroid out from between his fingers. “Tell you what?” Ghost settled on after a moment. Soap noticed how the man’s eyes never left the photo, his thumb gently tracing over the young boy’s face. “A kid, Simon. Were you ever going to tell me you had a son?” or Soap stumbles upon Ghost's box of old mementos and makes an incorrect assumption.

Soap’s hands were trembling. His knees ached where he sat hunched on the floor, though he made no effort to move. It was as if he was a deer caught in the headlights, encountering something he knew he was never supposed to see.

All because of the polaroid in his hand.

Soap honestly had no intention of stumbling upon the photo, planning to only rummage through Ghost’s closet, looking for a pair of boots the man said he could borrow. The two had made progress in their… friendship in the last few months, enough that they felt comfortable letting the other borrow their things from time to time. Hoodies, tea, throwing knives - it was all easy to give up if the other wanted it.

So when Ghost eventually noticed Soap’s boots were barely within regulations, the pair hanging on by the smallest of threads, he subtly let it slip that he had an extra pair in his room. Glossing over the fact of how he knew Soap’s size when he said the other man could help himself to them whenever he had the time.

Before long, Soap found himself walking down to Ghost’s room with an extra pep in his step, still baffled by the fact the lieutenant trusted him enough to let him in. Not just in his room, but in his life.

When he arrived, Soap entered using the spare key on his lanyard- another recent addition- and got to work scouting for the pair of shoes. It always amazed him just how neat and orderly the state of Ghost’s room was kept in. Everything always in the same spot when he visited, like there were a million unspoken rules on where each thing belonged.

… It was cute.

Before he got too distracted, Soap figured it would be best to begin his search in the closet, quickly squatting down to dig around for the item. Unlike the well-kept nature of the rest of the room, Ghost’s closet was a mess. Sure, his uniforms and gear were pristinely hung, but underneath?

Underneath was very clearly where all of Ghost’s more personal effects went.

Soap made a mental catalog of it all as he moved medals, awards, certificates, and even some souvenirs out of his way. It was sweet, in a way, to see that Ghost hadn’t completely gotten rid of things that gave him his rightful recognition, things that may have once brought him joy. Even if they were heavily out of sight, Soap felt happy that they weren’t completely out of mind.

After a few minutes of rummaging through foreign belongings, Soap managed to locate a shoebox that was lodged in the back corner. Having to nearly fight with every other object to get it loose enough to slide forward. He didn’t think twice about throwing it open, wanting to double check that they were in fact the boots Ghost had mentioned. After all, what else would a shoebox contain?

What he had not expected to see, in any capacity, was the immediate flow of papers that sprung out from the box as soon as the lid was removed. Soap examined the contents with confusion and curiosity - torn photos, ripped documents, old notes, children’s drawings…

It was clearly a box that the lieutenant kept his ‘Pre-Ghost’ memories in.

The prospect of new boots was promptly shoved to the back of his mind as he fought the urge to dive into the small box. Not believing the gold he had stumbled upon. Yet, at the same time he knew how wrong it would be to go through Ghost’s things, not wanting to do something that would so clearly betray the man’s trust.

So Soap went to close it back up, gently scooping up the papers that had fallen out. If anything, he’d bring it up to him later and ask if they could go through some of it together. The pieces that Ghost felt comfortable having on display, anyway. It wouldn’t be the first time that the two held chats about their past, swapping stories back and forth regarding their lives before they met.

As he was grabbing the last stack, though, a photo caught his eye. An old, black and white polaroid of a man in fatigues, sitting on the floor in front of a Christmas tree as he looked up at a kid on his shoulders. The kid was young, still in his toddler stage, and Soap was immediately drawn to the smiles on both of their faces.

How they looked at each other with nothing but love and adoration in their eyes.

Soap brushed his thumb over the photo, gently wiping over the older man’s face. It was Ghost, he realized. He was embarrassed by the fact he didn’t notice immediately, especially since it was so clearly Simon.

Sure, it looked as if he couldn’t have been in the service for more than a few years —his face devoid of any major scars or marks— but he still had all of the features that Soap was smitten with. His crooked nose, his jawline, the softness in his eyes…he was beautiful.

Soap was so caught up in seeing a young Simon Riley for the first time that it took his brain a moment to remember that there was a child in the photo. A small kid on Simon’s shoulders that bore a striking resemblance to—

Wait, who was he?

It was hard to believe that they could be siblings. Too many of his prior conversations with Ghost had centered around the Scot’s own family and his relationships with his siblings, and not once had the man ever brought them up.

And if Soap had a younger sibling like that kid, a giggling mess that looked at Simon like he hung the stars? Soap would never shut up about him.

But who else could he be, if not family? The two looked so similar it was almost frightening, and he knew that if Ghost was to show him a picture of himself from his childhood, that kid would be staring back at them.

A thought came to Soap, then. One he wanted to immediately dismiss, though it made more sense the longer he thought on it. It was the only other explanation he could conjure up at that moment — and with how secretive the nature of their work was, of course Ghost wouldn’t mention his existence. Part of the reason the man hid his face was to keep his identity safe.

Of course he would want the same for his child.

That was the revelation that had his hands trembling. That had him shocked to his core as he brought the photo closer for a better look. It had to be his child - the resemblance was too uncanny to assume otherwise.

Why wouldn’t Ghost tell him? Soap knew it was a selfish question to come to mind, and sure, it made perfect sense from a safety perspective… but it still hurt. Everyone was entitled to keep their secrets, but Soap and Ghost were more than just colleagues to each other.

They shared nearly everything, so why wouldn’t Ghost have trusted him with that secret?

Soap’s eyes stung as he tried not to take it personally, but then he thought about the implications of what the child would mean. He felt stupid for only now suspecting that it was possible for Ghost to have a spouse. Even if they weren’t married, it was highly probable that the man was certainly not as available as Soap was led to believe.

The thought of flirting with Ghost over comms, months spent teetering on the line between friendship and more — all while Ghost already had someone special waiting for him back home? Soap felt bile rise in his throat.

He was so caught up in his own head that he didn’t hear the door click open. Only noticing that he was no longer alone once a pair of legs entered his field of view.

“Strange, I don’t recall any pair of my boots looking quite like that, Sergeant.” A familiar voice rang out.

Soap jumped at the sudden noise.

Fuck, he was caught.

He felt no better than a kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar— if the jar was extremely personal and entirely off limits. He had no time to hide the evidence, though. All he could do now was own up to what he saw, and hope that Ghost didn’t notice the rogue tear track on his cheek.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Soap started in lieu of a greeting, still on his knees as he looked up to the masked man who stood over him. He tried to go with a neutral enough statement, though his mind was conjuring up so many opinions on the topic.

Ghost crouched down next to him, making himself comfortable on the ground as he gently took the photo from Soap. His thumb softly tracing over the young boy’s face in a manner not dissimilar to what Soap had done to Simon’s.

“About what?” Ghost settled on after a moment. Soap noticed how the man’s eyes never left the photo, a foreign expression stuck on his face…one Soap had never seen on him before.

Longing?

“A kid, Simon. Were you ever going to tell me you had a son?”

Ghost’s eyes flicked up to him, then. The two making eye contact as his brows pinched together.

“Not my kid, my nephew.” He corrected, the sentence delivered in a monotone voice with as little words as he could muster. Evidently not providing any other details that could help his case.

“Bullshit,” Soap found himself snapping before he could stop himself, still trying to wrap his head around everything. “You’re a liar, LT. Not once have you ever mentioned having siblings, and I’m pretty sure you need one of those to have a nephew, yeah?” Soap phrased it as if he was joking around. Well, mostly joking. It was an attempt to use humor to cover up the offense he still took with Simon still not letting him in on such a big part of his life.

“Just because you haven’t heard of them doesn’t mean they don’t exist, Soap.” Ghost’s tone grew a protective edge to it, reverting to calling the other man by his call sign.

Fuck if Soap knew he needed to stop pushing, but… this was important. He didn’t need answers, but he wanted them. Maybe if he was a better man, he would’ve stopped himself, but if the two were ever going to be ‘more’, he wanted to know about his family. Especially when Soap doubted he would ever get the opportunity again.

“I find it hard to believe you’d keep something that big from me, Si. After all this time?” Soap tried again. Christ, did the man really have an entire family that he knew nothing about? Did Gaz know? Did Price?

“Learning everything isn’t always what it seems, Johnny,” Ghost sighed, the fight seemingly leaving his body as it morphed to dejection.

“C’mon, LT. Try me, I can keep a secret.” Soap encouraged, continually trying to persuade him.

“Dead, Soap. He’s dead. They’re all dead, just drop it.” And… oh. Soap regretted his actions as soon as he heard the blanket desperation in Ghost’s voice.

“Oh, shit, Simon I-” Of course, that was— what was he even thinking? Asking a question like that? It made so much since now, after he stopped to think for a moment. Why was it that as soon as he picked up that photograph, the rational side of his brain just disappeared? Simon never talked about them because they had passed, and Soap had gone and opened that wound back up.

Soap’s hands now trembled for a different reason, for the fact he had upset the man. He didn’t even have a valid excuse, the entire situation was one of his making.

How could he ever fix things?

“Can you…Could you tell me about them?” Soap asked, hesitant for the first time that night.

“Johnny, I-” Ghost’s voice sounded wet and unsteady. Wrong choice, MacTavish.

“Shit, wait no- don’t. You don’t have to answer that, Si.” He immediately backpedaled. Soap was two seconds away from getting up and leaving. Completely embarrassed that he had mistaken his nephew’s identity, and upset that he had let such a small detail supersede the boundaries he knew Simon had.

“Joseph loved planes.” Ghost mumbled after a few minutes of silence, sniffling twice before scooting over to Soap. He took a breath to center himself before shifting his body so they could look at the polaroid together.

“See there in the picture? Couldn’t pry that bloody wooden toy out of his hands. When it was time for dinner, we had to bribe him with candy to let it go. Tommy—his dad— would always joke about how Jojo would become a pilot before we’d know it. But he was… he was the light of my life for a while there.”

Soap could see the crow’s feet in the corner of Ghost’s eyes, how he was smiling down at the photo with sad eyes. “I adored him.”

“He seemed like he was a great kid.” Soap said, and he meant it. He could almost picture it, the child rambunctiously running around the house, clutching the plane for dear life as a younger Simon chased him.

“Oh, he was the greatest,” Ghost whispered.

“I wish I could have met him.” He mused, wondering what it would have been like. Unashamedly imagining how he’d fit in with Simon’s family in another life.

“He would’ve loved you, the absolute menace you are. Pretty sure we’d have to keep the both of you both on leashes.” Ghost’s chuckle came out wet, but it still made Soap light up, happy to cause a reaction like that despite the circumstances.

“Yeah? Well, it seems like you were a great uncle, too.” Soap looked over at the man when he didn’t respond right away, worried that he had gone too far. That he had crossed a line by directly mentioning his old status. But then-

“...I miss it more than anything.” Ghost admitted in a small voice, leaning into Soap as he looked at the polaroid a moment longer.

The two spent the rest of the night on the floor, Ghost retelling stories of his ‘Uncle Simon’ days, and Soap asking a million questions about it all. He learned that it had been years since the lieutenant had talked about his family willingly, though the man reassured him that it was…nice to have someone that he could share them with. Like he was keeping their memory alive.

At some point, when dawn had crested through the curtains, the two had migrated to Ghost’s bed - coherent conversations morphing to exhausted mumblings as they mutually fell asleep on top of the covers.

Though Soap still had doubts that he hadn’t irreparably damaged their relationship due to his ridiculous accusations, when he woke up to see Ghost still in bed next to him? He figured that everything had somehow worked out better than he could have ever imagined.

[amongthebooks]

{whumptober: day 1}

FANDOM: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (Reboot)

PROMPTS: Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?” | "But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley / John 'Soap' MacTavish (SoapGhost)

WORD COUNT: 1.7k (AO3)

TAGS/CW: falling, near death experience, light angst with a happy ending, hurt Simon "Ghost" Riley

SNIPPET:

Ghost had no time to react as both he and his attacker were sent flying. His muscles tensed to brace for a quick impact… only it never came. Fuck, it still hadn’t happened yet - they were still falling. Why were they still falling? A fact realized only a moment too late, was that both men were fighting in a wing that was still under construction, around a place that would soon be a stairwell. The caveat? Instead of that finished structure, there was a big gaping hole. or Ghost takes a fall while on a mission.

“I’m in place, you’re clear to move,” Ghost stated into his comms, settling into his position of overwatch. 

The 141’s latest mission had sent them to the heart of a city, seeking out a target of extremely high priority. The immediacy and sensitive nature of the man they were looking for had been the sole reason that the team had agreed to infiltrate an area where things could go south quickly. 

All it meant for Ghost is that they had to practice extreme caution. That one misstep could lead to an unwanted interaction with civilians.

Ghost was posted up in a multi-story building, chosen due to the fact it was in the middle of being constructed. It had been relatively easy to gain access, the toughest part coming where he had to navigate through the various ladders and scaffolding, the tools serving as the only means of getting between levels.

Setting up his lookout post using a top floor apartment allowed him a clear view of the building across the street without being too obvious from the outside. There, he provided support as Gaz and Soap infiltrated the building, constantly updating them to the security detail’s locations as they swept each floor.  

Before long, he watched through two sets of windows as Gaz secured the target. Both men having a tight grip on him, quick to cuff his hands and gag his mouth.

Ghost watched as they descended back the way they came, heading to where Price was waiting outside with the exfil vehicle.

A few minutes later, and he was sitting on his heels, waiting to hear his favorite words.

“Mission success. Ghost, regroup on us.” 

That was his cue. Ghost lowered his scope as he turned to grab his gear and leave. He didn’t get far, though, before the door suddenly burst open. And behind it? A man pointing a gun in his direction.

Shit.

Ghost wasted no time in rolling to the side, hearing a shot fly by him as he ducked into the adjacent room, hand reaching to unsheathe a knife on his thigh. He stayed low to the ground, waiting for the other man to take the bait.

The fight was anything but clean - Ghost not expecting resistance, and the intruder not expecting a tank to be his target. Fists and blades flew, guns abandoned as the close quarters got tighter. 

Before long, the two had burst back out into the hallway. Both were out of breath and pissed that the encounter hadn’t ended yet. 

With one last attempt, the intruder lunged at Ghost, putting his entire body into sending the man to the ground.

Ghost had no time to react as they were both sent flying.

His muscles tensed to brace for a quick impact… only it never came. Fuck, it still hadn’t happened yet - they were still falling. Why were they still falling?

A fact realized only a moment too late, was that both men were fighting in a wing that was still under construction, around a place that would soon be a stairwell.  The caveat? Instead of that finished structure, there was a 

big

gaping 

hole.

Ghost used his strength to kick at the man mid-air, succeeding at prying the arms off of him seconds before his back connected with something firm. The wind was knocked out of him as he tried to understand the reason for his sudden cease of movement. 

But before he could assess things, he heard a snap, his fall continuing seconds later. 

What was going on?

His body spun as his leg snagged on something, and then everything stopped. Well, to say that everything stopped would have to mean that the room wasn’t upside down and spinning - but it most certainly was.

Ghost felt as if he was going to be sick.

He tucked his head to his chin, looking around to assess the situation. As it was, the fall had to have lasted at least a few stories at the minimum. His leg had been caught up in some rope, miraculously enough that it had looped in a way that stopped his descent in its tracks.

It was a safety net.

It made sense now, recalling the harsh snap when he had first fallen.

The nets were only meant to handle a fall of six feet, and Ghost guessed that he had easily doubled that amount. He had been lucky that it had snapped in a way that had snagged on his leg, though it had definitely pulled something and left him still suspended up in the air.

The alternative would have been a much worse fate.

Peering to the ground below, Ghost clocked the body of the man that had fought him, and how it was in a contorted, unmoving heap at the bottom of the stairwell. 

That could have been him.

Ghost’s head spun as he tried to reorient himself. Too disoriented on the fact that luck had saved him from certain death that he didn’t hear his radio going off.

'-ost? Lieutenant, check in, godammit!'

'Price, I’m going to Ghost’s last known location.'

All the while, the man dangled like a fish on a line as he resigned himself to his fate in the net, blood already rushing to his head. He had definitely gotten whiplash from the fall, feeling sick to his stomach and sore in more places than one.

Ghost was still utterly disoriented when he barely registered his name being called; far away at first but getting closer with every passing moment.

Footfalls that seemed to pick up until, “Oh my god,” he heard Soap mumbled breathlessly. Of course it was Soap that had come to find him. 

Ghost assumed he was creating quite the sight, even when he couldn’t see the other man. Walking into a room to see your lieutenant hanging upside down, entangled in rope, would get a rise out of most of his men, he knew.

Though Soap wasn’t like most of his men. 

He had half of a mind to attempt rotating around to greet the man, though he didn’t want to risk the seven foot fall that awaited him. That, and he felt like he’d be sick if he moved even an inch.

“Ghost? Ghost! Shit, no, please tell me you’re not-“ The man circled around him until he was facing him properly. In lieu of a verbal greeting, Ghost raised one of his hands to wave gingerly, ignoring how the movement made the nerves in his arm tingle like crazy.

Even from the vertical distance between them, he could clearly make out the loud sigh Soap let out. Presumably figuring out his predicament. 

“Steamin’ jesus, are you serious? You can’t just not answer your comms, Ghost! What’s a man supposed to think, walking in here to find that body over there and you suspended in the air like that?” The smidge of relief on Soap’s face had morphed into something more harsh, his accent getting stronger as he ranted.

And oh…Ghost hadn’t even thought of it like that. Of the conclusions that could be made from seeing his attacker’s broken body below him, and his limp one all tangled up. He opened his mouth to reassure the man, before another wave of nausea washed over him. 

On second thought…talking would have to wait another moment.

Soap let silence fall over them for a few moments before he sighed again. 

“Alright, let me find something to soften the fall, LT,” he offered before turning on his heels, pausing in the doorway. “Oh, and don’t go anywhere, ‘k?”

“Fucker,” Ghost mumbled as the other man’s laugh echoed down the hallway. Deciding to blame the fact that he was lightheaded as the reason he let a few chuckles of his own out.

Soap was back after a few minutes, hauling two bags of insulation behind him.

He made short work of placing them underneath where Ghost was dangling before disappearing again, presumably to get to a position where the rope could be cut.

In the meantime, Ghost allowed his eyes to shut. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion seeped into his body the longer he continued to be suspended. 

“Ready?” Soap’s voice echoed down the empty stairwell. 

“ ‘mm?” Ghost grunted as his eyes fluttered open. His mind trying to fill in gaps again as the room seemed to spin again.

His reprieve was short lived when there was suddenly a distinct snap was heard, and Ghost’s body was in free fall once more. This time for a much shorter amount, though, before he impacted something soft beneath him.

Ghost stayed prone until Soap caught back up to him.

The man immediately tried to help haul him to his feet, balking when Ghost swatted at his hand and insisted that he didn’t need help standing. 

Soap scoffed, “There’s no way you can stand after dangling like that, sir.”

When he received a side eye from the man, he added, “Alright, how many fingers am I holding up?”

After a few unsteady steps, Ghost had made it to his feet, though he had to immediately brace himself on the nearby wall.

“Uh,” he squinted towards Soap, looking for where his hand even was. Fuck, why was the room spinning so much? 

“None?” Ghost settled on, before suddenly swooning, eyes rolling back as he started to go down. Soap luckily lunged to catch him before his body hit the ground.

“It’s alright, LT. I gotcha,” he said reassuringly, repositioning his arms so that he was essentially bridal carrying the man. He figured it was the easiest way he’d get them both outside, especially when Ghost couldn't be awake to protest.

Soap couldn’t help the mote of excitement that buzzed through him as he made his way out of the building. 

After all, it wasn’t every day the lieutenant was found hanging mid air, and he had a feeling there was no way that the rest of the team would let Ghost live this day down.

[amongthebooks]

streetlights in the dark blue (i’d no choice but to love you)

FANDOM: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (Reboot)

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley / John 'Soap' MacTavish (SoapGhost)

WORD COUNT: 3.3k (Also on AO3)

TAGS/CW: angst with a happy ending, car accident, (unconventional) marriage proposal, hurt/comfort, established relationship, hurt Simon "Ghost" Riley, protective John "Soap" MacTavish

SNIPPET:

Ghost could feel how he had gotten flung on impact. Enough that, looking past his outstretched arm, he could see a small velvet box that had sprung open. The shine of a small metallic object catching his eye as he realized what exactly was sitting out unprotected in the roadway. The ring. or After months of careful planning, Ghost had finally worked up the courage to propose to Soap. Deciding to pop the question while off on a nighttime walk, he made sure that everything was perfect. Though life seemed to have a different plan when Ghost was suddenly struck by a car. -Inspired by Hozier’s Abstract (Psychopomp)-

psy·cho·pomp

/ˈsīkōˌpämp/

noun

the spiritual guide of a living person's soul.

----------

Tonight was the night. 

Countless hours of planning, of sneaking off base, of meetings with his Captain, and a few too many nights spent overthinking - he was finally going to do it.

Ghost was going to propose.

He and Soap had been together for a year, though they had been by each other’s side for more. The way they fit together, both on and off the field, just felt so right, in a way that nothing else ever did. 

If Ghost was being honest with himself, he was ready to take this next step within the first month of their relationship. It still took his breath away whenever he thought about it. How, despite everything he was, everything that had happened to him, Soap still looked at him like he hung the stars.

Ghost was surprised when they made things official. It had taken him a while to understand that Soap wanted him for him, and not just for the masked persona that Ghost was. 

He wasn’t a great man. He wasn’t even a good one. 

For years, he assumed that he was unlovable, that he was always meant to be a weapon and nothing more. But then Soap entered his life, and he was so grateful. 

Johnny, who was always so patient. Johnny, who never forced him to explain his past. Johnny, who never showed him anything but love and affection. 

It made everything worth it. Though he had been through years of torment and endless amounts of shit, years of debating if he should even bother sticking around, he was glad that he did.

For it brought them together. 

If someone had told Ghost all those years ago that the fiery scot he met on the tarmac would be the man he’d fall for? That he’d be the man he wished to spend the rest of his life with? The specter would have let out his first real laugh in years. 

The change had taken months, having gone through the entire mess that was tracking down Hassan and running rogue through the streets of Las Almas for him to understand the foreign feelings that he felt for the man. He could joke as much as he wanted about the field manual and his cold heart, but he was genuinely so glad that Johnny came into his life. 

It was no secret that his years before Soap were spent detached from the world. The persona he brought back from Mexico acted as his shield after Roba. A way to protect himself from ever getting hurt again, committing to being the strong and emotionless soldier that everyone expected from him. 

When he looked back on it now, it was with a feeling of dejection. Too much of his time had been spent as a shell of a man, as someone who was constantly reliving his trauma. He’s since made his peace with his past. As much as he could, anyway.

He would always remember the majority of his life as a time of great sadness - his childhood, losing his family, the cartel, all of it. Yet he didn’t grieve it anymore. Instead, it was all treated as old facts, events that had long since come and gone. There was nothing he could do about the past, but he could actively try to improve his future. Lord knows he deserved it after the shit he had been through. 

And he knew his life was better with Soap in it. 

His plan was full proof. See, the two had developed a nightly routine to go on a short walk with each other. Save for when they were actively on a mission, they never failed to get together for one last moment before heading to sleep. Finding that it helped to quell their minds after a challenging day, or times when their old memories decided to rear their ugly heads. 

It especially helped with Ghost’s insomnia. The outside air, the sound of the world around him, Soap’s soft voice speaking next to him - it all helped him settle in for the night. 

Most importantly, though, was that it could act as the perfect opportunity to ask Soap to marry him. 

So that’s where they found themselves. Ghost leading Soap through the streets of Manchester on their nightly stroll, trading the on-base scenery for a more lively setting while on leave. Soap thought nothing of the fact that Ghost seemed more insistent to head out that night. Pushing up their normal time by an hour or two and hurriedly helping the man get his boots and coat on. If anything, he assumed Ghost was having a particularly rough night, and he was more than willing to accommodate. 

Ghost didn’t know exactly when he’d get down on one knee during the walk, planning the actual act always left too many butterflies in his stomach. But he figured he’d know the moment when it came. He’d do it when the time felt right.

And so they walked together. Hands entertained in one of Ghost’s coat pockets, as a velvet box weighted down the other. 

Ghost felt Soap nudge him as they came upon a small park, pointing to where it sat on the nearby hill. He had a soft grin on his face as they paused to watch a group of kids playing football, hearing the shouts and giggles that accompanied their match. 

Soap soon broke into a short story, explaining how the children reminded him of himself when he was younger, how he was one hell of a player before he whisked himself away for the military. 

It was nice to watch the children play, peaceful, in its own way. 

Domestic, even. 

Ghost pulled Soap close, the smaller man stumbling as his hands found purchase on the other’s hips, swaying them together. Soap grinned as he more firmly wrapped Simon in his arms. “Thank you for coming with me.”

The other man looked around in confusion, “To the park?” His head was tilted to the side, eyebrow raised, “You already forget that I’m the reason for the walk, Johnny? I’d hardly say that’s a cause for thanks.”

Soap let out a chuckle as he bumped into Ghost’s side. “No, I meant on leave with me. Price wanted me to take a break after that shit show of a mission they sent me on. But I would’ve been fine alone, you know? You didn’t have to follow me, let alone offer up your apartment.”

Ghost leaned down until their foreheads connected, feeling the cold wet of their noses where they touched. His face was bare tonight, testing out the freedom of not wearing a mask when he was just Simon - especially when the dark of night hid his features well enough. He was glad for the decision now, content in feeling the way Soap’s skin felt on his own. 

“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again, Johnny. Wherever you go, i’ll always follow. I may be your superior in the field, but out here? My soul is yours to have, to command, to guide.” Each statement accompanied by a small kiss - to Soap’s nose, his cheeks, his lips. 

Ghost was smiling now. It was cheesy, he knew, spouting sentiments he scarcely spoke out loud. But he allowed himself to indulge, if only for the night. Knowing the importance for the occasion that only he was privy to. 

Maybe now would be the perfect time to take the ring out?

He watched as Soap tilted his head, feeling lips brush against his own. Moments away from closing the distance again. 

“You sappy basta- oof" Soap’s words were abruptly cut off, and Ghost was quick to pull back enough to scan the man for why he had stopped. He followed the Scot’s line of sight to see a…football, suspiciously rolling away from where the two were standing. Accompanied by a blotch of mud on the ankle of Soap’s jeans.

“Sorry!” A small voice suddenly called out, the vowels elongated in their apology. 

The men threw each other a glance before looking towards the park on the hill, identifying the source of the voice to have come from a group of kids that stood together. As soon as they noticed the adult’s eyes on them, they were quick to point at the supposed culprit. 

The kid took a step forward, presumably to go and fetch the ball, only to immediately pause as Ghost raised his hand up.

“Stay there, i’ll get it,” his voice carried, some of his ‘Lieutenant authority’ bleeding through. Having seen the ball continue to roll until it had reached the center of the street, he knew it wasn’t safe for a child to go fetch it. 

He liked to think Soap was rubbing off on him - the man’s blatant compassion and selflessness for those he didn’t even know. Things that came natural to Soap, things that were simply in his nature, required manual thought for Ghost. But he was trying, actively attempting to work on himself in recent months. And though Ghost knew there was certainly a long way ahead, he could start by doing small things, like this. 

His surprise could wait a few more moments, anyway.

He gave Soap’s hand a squeeze before walking away, watching the Scot turn to head over to the small group of children. Ever the sociable one, Ghost lamented with a shake of his head. Soap was known to take any opportunity to use his “cool uncle” privileges on the youth, and he played the part well. 

Ghost looked both ways as he stepped into the roadway, crossing multiple lanes before slowing to a light jog as he made it to his target. 

He let out a sharp whistle as the kids - and Soap - turned to look at him expectantly. With a raise of his arm, he sent the ball flying back towards them all. It made him laugh when he heard the small hollers of approval, watching as Soap blew him a kiss.

God, Ghost so gone on that man. He looked breathtaking, even in such a mundane situation. The scarf and long coat that he was dressed in made him look so cozy. And the mohawk that had grown out considerably in the last few weeks? 

It never failed to get Ghost’s heart racing.

He looked like he belonged here, Ghost’s brain supplied. Whether that meant in the city life or by his side, who was he to decide?  How he ended up in the same orbit as Soap was beyond him. The earth was such a wide expansive place, and despite it all… 

He turned on his heals to walk back, please with himself that he had done his good deed for the da- 

All of the air left Ghost’s lungs as what seemed like a brick wall absolutely slammed into him, feeling weightless for a moment before harshly impacting on the ground.

His world twisted on its end, disorienting him as he tried to make sense of it all. One moment, Ghost was looking at his Johnny. The next, he was on his back, head spinning and eyes seeing nothing but a large expanse of dark blue. 

Time seemed to slow as he looked up, the sky’s color so rich and deep that he almost thought his sight was gone, though remedied by the fact there were a few streetlights to accompany his view. 

The view was pretty, he decided. As pain flooded through his body and confusion washed over his mind, all he could focus on was how the stars reminded him of Soap’s eyes.

And how he wished to look at them forever. 

His heart raced as he remembered what he would be doing soon, of what he would be asking the other man. He always knew Soap was the one for him, from the moment they met, Ghost felt like he had no choice but to love him. He just hoped Soap would say yes.

Wait. Where was Soap? He wasn’t…Ghost couldn’t see him, so where was the man? 

His ears were ringing, his vision turning fuzzy as he found it increasingly difficult to use any of his senses properly. Chest growing heavier with every breath he took as he laid in the…street? Why was he in the road? And why did it feel like he had just been ran over by a ca-

Shit. It’s because he was, wasn’t he? 

And even worse?

He must have gotten flung on impact, so much so that looking past his outstretched arm, he could see a small velvet box that had been opened. The shine of a small metallic object catching his eye as he realized what exactly was sitting out unprotected in the roadway.

The ring.

He needed to get it - it didn’t matter if everything hurt. This was the most important night of Ghost’s life, he would not allow himself to mess it all up. 

He needed to fix this. 

----------

Soap saw it happen. How one moment he was blowing a childish kiss to Simon, and the next his love was thrown down the road like a rag doll. He should have seen the vehicle coming, noticing it only a moment too late. 

But that’s all it took. 

The faces of the kids around him had morphed from joy to absolute horror, everyone hearing the screech of the car accompanied by a terrible thud.

Soap shook himself out of his shock, immediately throwing his phone at the nearest child with a command of ‘call 999’ before he was barreling down the hill. He surprised himself with his own speed, but how could he not run like his life depended on it? 

Somebody was just hit by a car. 

No. Someone had just hit Simon with their car, not even bothering to stop before speeding back off. All he could see was how Simon was struggling to get up. Like his body was in immense pain but his mind was trying to push through it, moving around on the pavement. How he was panicking.

Soap dodged oncoming traffic to get to him, drivers just arriving on scene being less than careful, ignorant to what had just happened seconds before. He couldn’t even care about his own life in that moment, all of his worry focusing on getting Ghost out of harms way.

“Simon!” Soap yelled as he finally reached to him, his eyes frantically scanning the other’s body. When he didn’t see any injuries that suggested he couldn’t be moved, he scooped his arms under Ghost’s knees and back and quickly hoisted him up.

Any other wounds could be fixed later, once they were out of the road.

The moment Soap finally held Simon in his arms, the man’s movements seemed to slow, no longer squirming around like when he was on the ground. His initial fear and panic in his eyes seemingly subsiding. 

The Scot cradling Ghost’s head as he sprinted across the lanes of traffic, his mouth spewing a constant “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” though he wasn’t sure who’s benefit it was for. 

When they made it back to the sidewalk, Soap was quick to gently place the man down on the ground. Chest heaving as he finally could take a good look at Simon. A few tears escaped his eyes, but he refrained from crying, trying to hold himself together until he could stabilize Simon, until he could ensure he was okay.

He worked to get the man’s jacket off so he could have a better view of any wounds - noticing that the clothing had gotten ripped up during the impact. Soap prayed that Ghost's many layers had protected him, though he could see blood on his hairline already. 

The entire time, he hadn’t stopped trying to comfort Ghost. His hand smoothing the stray hairs from his face as he whispered, “Shh, you’re okay, it’s going to be okay. Help is on their way, Si, just hold on.”

Every few moments, Soap couldn’t help but notice how Simon’s eyes would widen in a panic again as they glanced back over to the road, like he was remembering something that he had momentarily forgotten.

After the third time, he followed his gaze to see what the man kept glaring at, squinting when he saw something small shining under the streetlights. A small box and a…ring?

A ring.

“Oh, Simon,” He choked out, “That better not be what I think it is.”

Ghost moved his head back so he could focus on Soap’s face. Humming an affirmative that morphed into a groan as he felt his eyelids start to droop. This time, Soap wasn’t immune to letting his tears fall freely, sniffling as he clutched the man closer.

“I’ll- i'll give you an answer, Si, just hold on for me. C’mon, stay here with me.”

As they heard sirens ring out in the distance, getting louder with every passing moment, the two of them could do nothing but cling to each other, looking at the abandoned ring as it shined in the lowlight.

----------

“What are you thinking about?”

Ghost’s concentration broke as he tore his eyes away from the window. He had been watching the dark rain clouds circle in the sky before shifting to look over to where Soap was perched on his bed, sketchbook sprawled out in his lap.

“Oh you know,” Ghost mumbled, breaking eye contact as he glancing down to where he was playing with the ring on his finger. 

He had gotten his happy ending. 

Despite everything that had happened to him, despite a close call mere moments from when he had planned to get down on one knee, he had made it. Life kept going, and they had done it. Getting married against all odds. Although, there was one piece of that memory that Ghost often reflected on.

“Again?” Soap filled in the blank.

Ghost was thinking about the same thing he had for the last few months. At this point, it felt as if a part of him would always be stuck in that moment - remembering the time vividly and often.

He nodded in Soap's direction, "I feel like I’m back there again, like this is too good to be true… I thought I lost you.” Ghost wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to articulate how scared he had been in the moment that he thought would be his last. Terrified that he wouldn’t get to propose to Soap or live out the rest of their life together. 

He knew Soap saw it too - the other man already had discussed his side of events, how he had seen Simon in that moment. How he really saw him. The apparent raw, frightened expression on his face warping to reflect the love that he felt for Soap as he was held. How clear it was that Ghost was trying to hold on, absolutely terrified to leave the man he loved behind.

“I thought I lost you,” Soap rebutted, and Ghost could sense that they were getting caught in a circular conversation again. 

But everything was alright, they were safe. Simon held on enough for the ambulance to arrive, and he had been treated in the hospital before any damage was truly irreversible. 

Soap had saved him that night.

“You know it’d take more than that to keep me from you.” The older man sighed. “You hold my soul, remember? I wouldn’t go somewhere you’re not bringing me to. Until you guide me down to hell yourself, I think I’ll stay right here.” His chest warmed at the sound of Soap chuckling from across the room. 

“I love you, Si,” Soap said, opening the blankets on Ghost’s bed to offer the other man his spot.

“You know I love you too, Johnny,” came Simon’s natural response as he stepped over to where Soap was already curled up. 

Ghost intertwined their hands as he fell into bed, the glint of their rings shining as he brought Soap’s hand to his lips. Kissing the metal vow before the lights were turned off and the two drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

----------

Darling, there's a part of me

I'm afraid will always be

Trapped within an abstract from a moment of my life

[ladyelissarose]

I FREAKING SOBBED OMG!!! I LOVE THIS!! ITS TO DIE FOR!

{drag the lake and bring me home again}

FANDOM: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (Reboot)

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley / John 'Soap' MacTavish (SoapGhost)

WORD COUNT: 7.7k (Also on AO3)

TAGS/CW: angst, angst with a happy ending, drowning, near death experiences, hurt/comfort, pre-relationship, hurt Simon "Ghost" Riley, protective John "Soap" MacTavish, feelings realization, unconventional first kiss

SNIPPET:

“Where is he?” Soap barked out, the gun firm in his hand. "What did you do with him?" The leader choked out a laugh, bloody and wet. "A death fitting for a ghost, yeah?" His gaze settled on something in the distance, towards the water. "I'd like to see him come back from this one." or During a stakeout mission in a remote area, Ghost is taken by the enemy. He's bound and thrown into a lake, and Soap has to scramble to get to him in time.

Ghost and Soap had been sent out on a stakeout mission. Their order was simple enough - stay in an abandoned apartment overlooking a facility that was recently flagged for suspicious activity and determine if their source was correct.

Sure, it felt a bit haunting to be out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a thick forest, but the two of them always seemed to make the time pass well. There was a good chance there wasn’t anything of concern out here anyway. They’ve received bad intel before.

Regardless, an order is an order, and they’ve been taking turns on watch for the last three days. Rotating so one can eat or get rest while the other vigilantly observed, ensuring no harm comes to them.

Soap was on the second floor, looking down the scope of his sniper rifle, checking for movement. It was Ghost’s turn to rest, and he had insisted on doing so on the musty couch downstairs, rather than share the mattress on the floor that Soap had used hours earlier.

Despite the fact the two would never be resting at the same time, Ghost didn’t want to force himself to crawl into a bed that smelled like Johnny. That was still warm from his body heat.

So he simply shouldered his rifle, walked downstairs, and told Soap to wake him up when his shift was over.

Soap found the hours blending together, running out of thoughts to keep his mind occupied. His shift was almost up anyway, maybe he could wake Ghost up a few minutes early? While the Lieutenant was always a man of few words, he missed the interactions the two would have if they didn’t have to keep swapping places like this.

Rustling downstairs broke Soap from his thoughts. Was Ghost already up?

That thought was quickly abandoned when he heard grunts of pain and boots scuff along the ground.

Ghost wasn’t the only one downstairs.

They were under attack.

He sprang up, abandoning his long range weapon in exchange for his pistol, and barreled down the stairs. He made it down to the landing just in time to see a group of eight assailants struggling to subdue a flailing Ghost.

He looked at his Lieutenant with wide eyes. His mouth had a cloth tied around it, his limbs wrapped in restraints.

Soap wondered how they got the upperhand on him. He’s "The Ghost". No one sneaks up on him. But they have - and on Soap’s watch.

One of the assailants barks an order to the others as Soap leapt at the closest one. They seemed to splinter into separate groups. Six manhandled Ghost out the door while Soap was left with two, clearly staying to prevent him from following them.

Soap shot at the one he lunged at, allowing the other the opportunity to land a punch to his temple. He folded for a second, before regaining his balance and slamming his fist into the assailant’s chest.

As he stumbled back, Soap grabbed him by his head and brought it into contact with his knee. Hard. Soap barely waited for the distinct crunch, feeling the body drop to the ground, before he was already sprinting out the door after Ghost.

By the time he made it outside, he stood alone. He swiveled around abruptly, not spotting anyone else in his immediate area. His heart beat fast in his chest, his head repeating “Find Ghost. Find Ghost” like a mantra. He was on the verge of panicking now, beneath the dark sky as rain pelted his body.

He needed to find Ghost now, but what could he do without a lead?

He ran a hand through his mohawk in frustration, eyes dropping to the ground. It’s then that he saw it.

Tire tracks.

Soap nearly slips on the mud beneath his feet as he makes a 180 turn, sprinting to his own vehicle. It was loaned to them for this mission, only to be used to venture into the nearest town for food and supplies to keep them alive. He gives it a quick once-over.

Of course their attackers weren't smart enough to puncture his tires, take his battery - anything to stop him from pursuing them. Ghost was probably giving them too much hell for them to have the time for anything other than their escape.

He fished out the keys from his vest pocket and popped it into the ignition. When the engine roared to life, he peeled off in the direction of the tracks, racing to catch up before the rain washed away his lead.

Soap was on their scent now.

His carelessness was the reason Ghost was taken so easily, and he wasn’t letting anything come between him and getting his Lieutenant back.

----------

He didn’t know how long he drove for. He only knew that his foot never lifted from the floor of the vehicle, and that he would surely be breaking a speed limit if he was in a more densely populated area. His eyes never left the path ahead of him, zeroed in on the fading tire tracks.

While he drove, he let his mind wander. Not enough to distract him from his mission, nothing being more important than this moment. But enough to let himself wonder how Ghost was faring.

These had to be the right tracks, right? Would he catch up to them soon, or would they still be driving? Is he even alive, or are they taking his body back as some sort of sick prize? Proving that The Ghost wasn’t some immortal being like everyone claimed.

Soap shook his head. He couldn’t think like that, had to keep a clear head and just focus on getting Simon back. It’s foolish to assume he’s okay, how could he be if he was just kidnapped? But he hoped that no real damage had been done yet. He’s been through enough.

Looking ahead, he could make out something off the side of the road. Was that the old SUV that they took Ghost in? It had to be. He raced to pull his vehicle over, turning the car off and leaving the keys in the ignition as he jumped out.

Soap’s heart beat firmly in his chest as he made his way towards the car. Pistol raised, he threw open the trunk and peered in. Nothing. The only sign that someone had been in the car recently was the leftover heat circulating around the cabin.

He couldn’t have missed them by much. Two minutes? Three?

Before leaving, his eyes caught on a puddle of rain water on the trunk floor. No, not water. Blood. A whine left Soap’s throat as his heart stopped.

He forced himself to turn from that scene and face the trees, listening to his surroundings. Begging for a sign that Ghost was near.

His ears picked up a group of laughter, and he found his legs immediately carrying him towards the source. He dodged the foliage covering the forest, hopping over downed trees, steadying himself on unsound rocks. Rushing to catch up to them.

Soap pushed one last bush away from his body as he made it to some type of clearing. A hidden beach that led to a large body of water.

Quickly surveying the area, he saw a flipped over canoe out on the water. If he squinted, he could see two broken oars, drifting away due to ripples made nearby. Before he could think about that much further, his eyes snapped towards the recurring sound of laughter.

There were six rugged individuals along the beach, all with a varying degree of injuries scattered on their bodies. All were dripping wet, pushing each other around and clapping their hands on their backs.

Like they were celebrating a job well done?

Soap swallows down the panic that threatened to bubble up past his throat - no sign of Simon.

No one has spotted him yet. Good. He moved to position himself behind a boulder, urgency in his steps, before letting the first bullet fly. He was able to pick off two more before the remaining assailants scrambled to their weapons, and one more as he began to face returning fire.

When he heard the action of reloading, he risked a glance at his two remaining targets. Making a split second decision, Soap attempted to discern who looked more likely to give him the information he wanted.

The information he needed.

He pulled the trigger once, toppling the last lackey, before unsheathing a dagger from his thigh.

It was the knife from his night fighting through the streets of Las Almas. When Ghost left it behind, Soap promptly claimed it as his own and kept it to accompany him on every mission. No one had to know it was his way of having a piece of Ghost with him, always.

Ghost had given him his sheath shortly after, claiming if Soap was to keep the knife, he needed a way to easily access it in times of need. Ghost had even given him lessons after, spending his free time teaching Soap how to incapacitate someone with precise knife throws.

Soap’s chest panged again.

A small part of him was proud of how fast he was taking down the men. While he knew his skills are what led him to be recruited into the 141, there were times when he needed the reassurance that came with doing something quickly and efficiently.

A bigger part of him, though, reminded him that now was not the time, that it couldn’t be until he found Simon safe and sound.

Waiting for a break in the bullets flying past him, he held the dagger firmly in the palm of his hand. The weight felt familiar to him, and he gave it a squeeze before throwing it at the leader’s shoulder.

A pained grunt and thump let him know he hit his mark. Soap crawled out from behind the boulder to see the leader clamping his hand against his shoulder. His weapon had been dropped to the ground and forgotten about. Soap didn’t make a kill shot, but he had hit a major artery. The guy had a few minutes at most, and Soap needed to make it count.

He stalked up to him, gun pointed at his temple.

“Where is he,” Soap barked out. “What did you do with him.”

The leader choked out a laugh, bloody and wet. “A death fitting for a ghost, yeah?” His gaze settled on something in the distance, towards the water. “I’d like to see him come back from this one.”

Another chuckle rippled across the otherwise silent beach, the leader smug despite being moments from death.

Soap followed his gaze. His face suddenly blanched with horror as he understood the gravity of what the leader had meant.

Ghost was out there. By the downed canoe.

Ghost was beneath the surface.

Simon was drowning.

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

Soap let out a breathless “oh my god,” hoping that he was wrong. Praying to any god that will listen that Ghost’s kidnapper was lying. He almost expected the specter to pop out from wherever he must be hiding to shout “surprise” at him.

But Ghost didn’t do pranks. This wasn’t a dream. And his lo- his lieutenant was dying.

Soap emptied the next round of his gun into the leader’s head. He wished he could take his time with him, make him scream and beg for mercy for what he’s taken from him.

But he couldn't - he needed to reach Simon.

Once he heard the gunshot, he dropped his pistol and started to rip his tac vest off of himself unceremoniously. He didn’t have time to undo it right, he needed to be in the water already.

But he knew that his gear would only slow him down, and he needed to reach Ghost.

Not a moment later, he dove in. The canoe he spotted earlier was barely visible above the water now, but that gave him an idea of what he needed to head towards.

It had to be where they dropped Ghost in. Soap couldn’t afford to be wrong. Not when every second wasted is another gulp of water that could be flooding Ghost’s lungs and-

He couldn’t think about it.

Couldn’t consider the chance that this would change from a rescue to a recovery. He doesn’t know what he would do if he saw Ghost’s lifeless body tied to the bottom of a lake.

He shook the thought away, trying desperately to put his brain in mission mode, pushing Johnny to the back of his mind.

As he got closer to the center of the lake, he began to see ripples coming from a specific spot. Taking in a deep breath of air, Soap dove. He frantically looked around, water just murky enough that he had to squint to see anything.

His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. ‘C’mon Simon’ he pleaded to himself, ‘please be here. please be alive’'.

It’s then that he spotted him. Wriggling around like a shark caught in a net, his lieutenant was frantically trying to get himself free.

‘SIMON’ his brain supplied, as he felt himself pushing to swim faster. He’s still too far away to help, could only watch as Ghost flailed against his bindings.

Ever since they first met, everything about him has been meticulous and calculated. Ghost would never make a move, in the field or back at base, without it being deliberate. But in this moment, it was like Soap was watching someone else entirely.

Ghost was panicking.

Simon was scared.

Soap watched as he was folding himself in half, bending down and reaching with his arms to try to undo the restraints at his ankles. The cloth once wrapped around his mouth, over his mask, had been removed, now around his neck.

His hands must have originally been pinned - he could just make out the handcuffs that still dangled from one wrist.

He wondered if Ghost had to break his thumb to get out of the hold. A small price to pay to try for his life, but his heart still hurt, thinking of yet another injury plaguing Ghost.

Ghost was yanking repeatedly at the rope tying him down.

Over and over and over.

Yet nothing was budging. Soap tried to guess what was holding him to the lakebed, but it was too murky to make anything out clearly. Whatever it was, it had to be massive. He knew what Ghost was capable of lifting, even without the use of his legs.

As Soap began to get closer, he could see the fight slowly leave Ghost’s body, even more so than when he was first approaching. He wondered how long he had already been down here.

He prayed again that he wasn’t too far behind them, that he wouldn't be too late.

After what felt like an eternity, he reached where Ghost was still floundering against his restraints. Albeit much, much slower than when he started.

Soap was so relieved to see his chest still moving, he brought his hands up to frantically hold his cheeks - trying to get his attention. Ghost was so preoccupied that he hadn’t seen where Soap swam up.

He didn't realize who was holding his face. Who else would be down here with him other than his kidnappers, coming back to finish the job? Before Soap could react, he felt knuckles hit his cheekbone, immediately making him reel back.

‘God Ghost,’ Soap marveled, not taking the time to recognize the bruise that was starting to form. ‘Never stop putting up a fight for your survival.’ He couldn't help but feel proud that Ghost could still attack in the state that he’s in. That he would even want to.

Once Soap pulled back to give Ghost some room, the two locked eyes. Despite running out of oxygen, Soap could see the tension in Ghost’s frame leave his body. Sorry, he watched Ghost sign, Stuck. Soap rolled his eyes at the biggest understatement of the century.

The two of them had gotten in the habit of learning some quick BSL signs when they had free time on base. They always threw them back and forth at each other during missions where they had to be silent or just wanted to keep comms clear when they were in close proximity.

Neither of them expected to use them in a situation as dire as this, though.

Soap rapidly shook his head back and forth. How could Ghost think he needed to apologize? This mess is his fault, and guilt continued to pile on him as he watched Ghost start to give up on his restraints, arm movements slowing.

Air, his mind unhelpfully supplied. Simon needed air now. There was no time to sort out the restraints.

He needed more time.

He took one last look at Ghost, watching his eyes start to droop, before he bolted up towards the surface. As Ghost watched Soap leave, he felt the fight fully leave his body. Soap already looked him over, probably saw there was nothing he could do.

Now he was leaving him for good. Ghost was trying to hold out for as long as he could, fighting with his brain for his nose and mouth to remain shut...

----------

When Soap reached the surface, he took in the deepest breath he could, and returned back down to Simon.

He panicked as he saw his eyes closed, but quickly got to work rolling his mask up to the bridge of his nose. The sudden breach in privacy had Ghost jolting his eyes back open, panic receding once he realized it was Johnny. That he would never leave him.

Soap prayed that what he was about to do would work. He vaguely remembered watching something during a team movie night about this - surely it was based on fact, not fiction? He had to try.

Before he could give it any more thought, before his heart could betray his mind, he pressed his lips against Simon’s. He prodded him to open his mouth, coaxing him with his tongue.

When Ghost complied, Soap suddenly pushed all of his air into him, trying to give him the message to breathe it in.

This had to work. It didn’t matter that this was practically a kiss. That he had dreamed of the day when their lips would finally touch, hoping, begging, that his wish would be granted. He should have known that fate was a cruel bastard, and that what should have been a sweet and tender moment would be forever tainted by death.

He gave all of his air to Simon.

He knew he would need to go up to the surface soon, already feeling his body go into fight or flight mode against the water around him. But he wouldn’t leave his side. Not until he has confirmation that his lungs are full of air again.

His heart beat heavy in his chest as he steeled himself to look back up at Ghost. Preparing to see unmoving features, letting him know that his plan failed. Soap pulled his own hand against his chest, bracing against his heart, and looked up.

This had to be enough.

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

If Soap wasn’t underwater, if he had the air to spare, he would have let out a sigh in relief as he made eye contact with Ghost again. Wide eyes that looked much more lively than they had mere moments ago.

It worked.

He couldn’t believe it. He allowed a moment of reprieve by nodding to Ghost, before feeling his lungs start to burn.

Right, he thought, no air left. He took that as his sign to jut off towards the surface, this time for himself.

When he returned to Ghost’s side, he snapped back into mission mode.

Next task: Restraints.

Soap swam down farther to examine how Ghost was trapped. He almost wished he didn't, though, once he caught a better view of the material. His bindings weren't a rope, like he expected when he saw him from across the water. No. Instead, a thick metal chain was wrapped tightly around his ankles, before looping around four cinder blocks on the lake floor.

Shit.

No wonder Ghost couldn’t move on his own. That even with his full strength underwater, his bindings wouldn’t budge. There was no way he could get this off of him, not without some type of tool.

Soap paled.

He didn’t think he would need his tac vest. Only knew that he could swim faster if it was off of him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Why didn’t he think? How could he just send himself to rescue Simon with only the clothes on his back? Even his knife was no longer on him, still embedded in the last assailant’s shoulder. What did he expect to do once he found Ghost under the surface? How was he of any help like this?

He needed his gun that was left on the edge of the water. A bullet would be able to shatter the metal links, he’s sure of it. All he needed was to break one, to unlink the chain before the rest would unravel.

The only problem with his plan? He was no longer anywhere near that part of the beach - remembering how long it had taken him to get to Ghost to begin with.

He knew what he needed to do, but was terrified at everything that could go wrong. What choice did he have though?

By the time he realized what had to happen, Ghost was starting to lose the light in his eyes again.

Soap knew that it was only logical, that he was getting significantly less air second hand from Soap than he would if he could just breathe it himself. Of course the air wouldn’t last him as long. But by god did watching it happen scare him to death.

He made another pass up to the surface, taking in an even larger gulp of air, before returning. He cradled Ghost’s face, subconsciously running his thumb against his cheek. Once again he came into contact with his lips as he blew the used air down into his lungs.

This was it. The most challenging piece of the rescue. He looked into Simon’s eyes, tapped on the watch on his wrist and signed Promise. Trying to convey as much emotion and sincerity as he could. He would be right back, he promised. So, so, soon.

He could do this.

----------

Simon could barely make out the sign before Soap darted away from him. He almost felt impressed with the speed in his strokes, it wasn’t often Soap would push himself like this in the water. He’d be more impressed if he wasn’t fighting for his life, though.

If he didn’t know the reason behind his urgency.

The air Soap had given him surprised him. Sure, the two of them were close. Way closer than a subordinate and their CO should be. And, while a (not so) small part of him longed for them to be closer, to be more, he hadn’t expected him to press their mouths together.

He had given him the air from his lungs, as much as he had to offer. Every bit that should have been used to keep Soap alive.

He knew there was a deep significance there, if he let himself dwell on it for too long. He wouldn’t, though. Not when he had to focus his energy on staying calm, refusing to inhale water as his oxygen supply was decreasing.

He was always a patient man, always pushing his body to his limit. Johnny promised to come back, he just needed to wait for him. And he would. Soap would soon return with the answer to his problem, and Ghost would be ready. No matter how long it would take.

He couldn’t consider an alternative.

He trusted him, more than he probably should. He didn’t know what Soap’s plan was, but he believed in it. It would work, it had to.

He looked through the bleak water, desperately looking for any sign of Soap. He knew, in the back of his mind, that there was a chance of failure. That despite his sergeant doing everything right, he simply wouldn’t make it back in time.

He couldn’t blame Soap - there wasn’t a bone in his body that would ever place the blame on him. He was just glad that he had tried.

They both knew his odds of survival.

But for once in his life, Ghost had something to fight for. He had been a shell of a man for so long, before a loud mouth Scotsman dug Simon out of his grave. Now that he was here, he didn’t want to go.

There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to experience with Soap.

And dammit, he wanted.

But in the end, he wasn't a myth, he wasn't a ghost.

He was just a man.

He felt his body fight against him again and again, begging for air it knew it couldn’t get. It was only a matter of time before he was finally forced to comply.

His mouth burst open, feeling the onslaught of water as it hit his lungs. Rushing through pathways where water should never be.

His body twisted and flailed in protest, now deciding that this was worse than the refusal of air. Why couldn't he have held on longer? He had been waterboarded a handful of times before. When enemies had gotten the upper hand on him, when they thought they could drain Ghost of his ‘SAS secrets’. Nothing compared to the direct sensation of drowning.

There was no trick that his mind was playing, no cloth to remove that would stop his body’s panic.

No, he was dying. In every sense of the word.

He just hoped Johnny would forgive him.

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

Soap had passed the mandatory swim training required of all operators joining SAS. He couldn't have gotten where he was otherwise. While he passed with flying colors, he would be lying if he said he ever set any records.

He never saw the need to be the fastest. As long as he was able to swim proficiently, why would the extra seconds count? He was a demolitions specialist, not someone going into underwater ops.

He regretted now how foolish he was. How unprepared he found himself in the moment. He couldn’t be bothered to think of any of his personal bests now, but he knew he would be setting one today with the speed he was going.

His lungs burned and ached with the unexpected push of exertion. As he did the front crawl to the shore, he couldn't help but choke on water as it entered his mouth. He was going too fast, too sloppy, to bother doing the correct technique.

The water that involuntarily blocked his airways just made him push faster, knowing that if this was how he felt now, he could only imagine how Ghost was feeling.

Ghost.

He let out a cry of frustration as he willed himself to reach the shore faster. He needed to be on his way back already. This was it. Either he would succeed, or he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he was too late. He didn’t even say a proper goodbye, just left with a promise. There was no way he would break it now.

After an eternity, he finally reached the shore. There was no unexpected movement, no surprise enemies. Not that he had the time to fully check anyway. The dead were all as he left them, and his pistol still laid next to the leader, where he had abandoned it.

He sprinted to grab it before turning on his heels and diving back the way he came. The whole exchange reminded him of a relay race, in a way. A life or death, extreme consequence version, anyway.

His mind was blank on his journey back, save for the ‘Simon. Simon. Simon’ chant coursing through him. How long had he taken to go both ways?

As he got closer to Ghost, his heart dropped - Simon wasn’t moving. His eyes were shut.

Mouth.

Open.

No. No. No, No, no no no-

Soap doubled his efforts to reach him. He rushed to his side as he gripped the pistol, shooting at the metal links. When it splintered apart, he hastily unwrapped the bindings and placed his arms securely around Simon as his body started to slump closer to the lake floor.

Struggling to get them both to the surface, Soap pushed his muscles to the max. He flipped both of them on their backs, cradling Simon close to his chest as he used his legs to paddle them to shore. He didn’t even feel the tears as they left his eyes, a constant stream that mixed with the freshwater that soaked his body.

He couldn’t check for a pulse, not yet. He couldn’t, wouldn't, be faced with what he has always feared the most. Reassuring words left his lips, though he doubted Ghost could hear him.

“You’re okay, LT. We’re almost there. You’re out. You’re safe. I have you, I won’t ever leave you again. Please-”. At this point, Soap wasn’t sure if the words were meant to soothe Simon or himself.

The pleads didn’t stop until he felt sand against his back, finally making it to the beach. He dragged him up far enough where the gentle waves wouldn’t reach, and gently flopped him onto his back.

“Simon,” he begged out loud. His throat hoarse from exerting himself, from his haste breaths. Thick with emotion. Soap ripped Ghost’s mask off in full, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad about it. Not when he didn’t know if he was alive or not.

He slipped off one of his gloves and brought two fingers to Ghost’s pulse point.

Nothing.

Soap choked out a wet sob before immediately beginning the steps of CPR. His hands slammed down on his chest repeatedly, pleads and promises slipping out of his mouth. He needed him, he couldn't lose him. Simon had survived so much, he couldn’t leave now.

He stopped with the compressions as he switched to provide mouth to mouth. Every time his lips touched Simon’s it reminded him of a moment that was taken from him.

He always knew he felt something more between them. He just needed the perfect time to push things one step further. He imagined stealing a few seconds alone with him when they were back on base. Or inviting him to come home with him when the team was sent on leave.

Wherever it was, he was waiting for a time when he could make the moment sweet. He couldn’t help but think that he missed his chance. That he would never get that now.

As he blew into his mouth repeatedly before switching back to chest compressions, he let out another sob.

“Simon, please”. He was on the verge of a breakdown, but knew he had a job to do. “I cannae do this without you. I’m so fucking sorry. Just breathe for me, please. I-I know you can do it, i’m helping as much as I can Si, just show me you’re still here.”

He felt like cursing the universe. If Simon Riley died here tonight, so would John MacTavish. There was no world he wanted to live in without his grumpy LT as his shadow. His best friend.

His other half.

If Simon was to be buried, he would be accompanied by Soap’s heart.

Every loss Soap had ever faced, every comrade he lost in the heat of battle, chipped away at his soul. Yet he kept going. Simon’s death, though, was something he would never come back from. And he knew it.

He didn’t know how long he continued to swap between chest compressions and mouth to mouth. Hours? Minutes? Seconds? He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t bear the reality that was crashing down on him. Soap was a mess, face ruined with tears and mucus, his eyes red and swollen.

After another batch of breaths, desperately pushing air into Simon’s lungs, he pulled back for a moment. He looked at him, soaking wet and unmoving, before letting out a gut-wrenching scream. He finally allowed himself to break.

He slammed his fist hard into Ghost’s chest. Yelling, screaming at him to wake up. He pounded again, and again, and again. Each time, more pleads, more promises, more apologies slipped through his lips.

“I love you,” he cried. “I love you and I need you to know it. I need you to know before you leave me, please, just open your eyes. Please, don’t go.”

On his latest pound, he heard a wet sound, gargling.

Gargling?

He opened his eyes - when did he close them? - To see water pouring out of Simon’s mouth. He watched as he began frantically coughing, eyes wide open and bloodshot. Soap was quick to flip him on his side, ensuring he didn’t choke while purging the water from his body.

Soap sat back on his legs, his sobs turning from grief to that of relief.

He ran his hand through his mohawk repeatedly as he tried to soothe himself, watching Simon’s chest rapidly rise up and down.

Alive.

He was alive.

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

Soap suddenly lurched forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Ghost.

“I thought I lost you,” he clung to him, shaking. “I thought you were gone, I thought-” He was babbling, messy thoughts tumbling past his lips, never stopping.

He knew Ghost was disoriented from waking back up. From his heart stopping and coming back to life. He knew from various trainings that it was best to allow the victim to slowly wake up when they experience a moment of unconsciousness. To never berate them with strong thoughts right away.

He wished he could have brought Ghost back to him gently, but the images of what just happened were beginning to catch up with him, and he couldn’t stop the onslaught of strong emotions that bubbled up through his chest.

Soap was repeating himself over and over, and as the haze around Ghost’s brain began to lift, he could finally hear a deep Scottish accent flood his ears. The voice was familiar to him, like coming home. He was gaining a sense of where he was, of who was holding him.

Johnny.

Soap snuck his hand to Ghost’s neck, keeping it on his pulse point. He couldn’t believe he was back. Scared that if he looked away, even for a moment, that when he looked back again he would see his lieutenant pale and unmoving.

Ghost allowed himself to be held, the both of them shaking. The gravity of the situation was not lost on either of them, and it was clear that Soap needed the physical contact to comfort himself.

Soap supposed he was going through shock. The feeling not entirely foreign to him but unwelcome nonetheless. His lieutenant had died. And while Soap brought him back, his heart had stopped and that wasn’t something that was going to leave his mind anytime soon.

Soap didn’t know how much time had passed before he came back to himself. He estimated it to be about twenty minutes? Both of them needing time to recover from the bone dead exhaustion that was catching up with them.

Eventually, he pulled away from Ghost, trying to get a better look at him. His blonde hair was pressed against his forehead, his eyes bloodshot with a glaze over them.

He still had the handcuffs dangling from one wrist. His other hand had the tell tale signs of something being broken. It was almost too much for Soap to handle. Couldn’t bear that he was the reason for this.

That if he wasn’t able to get Simon’s heart started again, his death would have been his fault.

“I’m so sorry, Si,” the apology slipped from Soap’s lips. “I was keeping watch upstairs, I should’ve known better and moved the vantage point to the first floor. I would’ve caught them, would’ve stopped them from getting to you. I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to-”

Ghost shushed him.

“Not your fault,” his voice was like sandpaper. From the water rushing in? From screaming? Soap didn’t want to know what else went on when he wasn’t there to protect him.

Ghost’s eyebrows suddenly pinched together, his brain catching up to what Soap had just said.

“Wait, what?” Thick confusion laced his voice. It sounded like it hurt to talk, and Soap had to resist the urge to tell him to save what he had to say for another time.

“Did you just-” A pause. “Why would you say you didn’t do enough?”

Oh. That wasn’t what Soap was expecting him to say at all. He didn’t think he needed to spell out the fact it was his fault, that he should probably be removed from the field.

He needed to be put in training, taught to think more critically while on missions. He would have expected Ghost to know already, for him to be furious at how Soap was the reason he drowned mere minutes ago.

“Well, sir, I-” he started.

“No,” Ghost abruptly cut him off.

“You dealt with the enemies at the safe house as soon as you knew they were there. You were insane enough to run after a vehicle full of armed personnel, even though I’m sure we were gone before you made it outside. You swam the length of the lake, I don’t even know how many times?” He swallowed, needing a moment to rest his throat before he could continue his thoughts.

While he paused, though, he brought a finger up to Soap’s mouth, implying that it still wasn’t his turn to talk.

“You- you gave me your air so I could keep breathing, improvised a plan to get me unstuck, and when you finally untangled me, you just dragged my limp body out of the lake and brought me back to life.” Ghost put emphasis on the last few words. His voice was coming back to him now, though the rough edge stayed.

Soap felt like that was a gross oversimplification of the day’s events. It sounded so linear, when Ghost said it like that. He felt like his brain had been running on autopilot since he first heard the intruders invade their space, and he’s sure if he tried to recount everything that happened, he wouldn’t be able to do it. Everything felt like one big blur right now.

But surely he didn’t do all that, right? While yes, what Ghost had listed seemed to be right, there had to be some embellishments in there. Someone had taken Ghost, and it was up to Soap to get him back. No more, no less. He was just a sergeant, not a decorated war vet who stepped in to save people like a modern version of Rambo.

Soap was brought back to the present when Ghost removed his finger from his lips, making him let out a small whine in the process.

The loss of content didn’t last long, as Ghost brought up his hands to cup Soap’s cheeks instead. “My head might not be on right after all that water, but does that sound like not doing enough?”

“You,” he continued, whispering as he brought up his hands to cup Johnny’s cheeks. Ghost never dared to do this before, though he had certainly dreamed. Something about what he just went through, what they both did, made him feel bold.

Or maybe it was the previous lack of oxygen.

“You did more than anyone would. You don’t need to be benched, you need a bloody medal. Don’t ever say you didn’t do enough, that’s a load of shit. I don’t know many people that would go to the lengths you did just to save one person.”

To save me, he wanted to say, letting it sit implied in the air instead.

“You came after me...thank you.” He mumbled the last part, it coming out more as a whisper.

Ghost leaned forward and touched his forehead against Soap’s. After the spiel that Ghost produced, the pair were content to sit in silence for another moment. While the immediate danger had passed, they both doubted that their heart rates would slow anytime soon, that their chests would ever calm in their heaving.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Ghost reiterated after a minute, leaning to press more weight on their foreheads.

“Always,” Soap quipped back, barely letting him finish his sentence. All of his thoughts, all of his feelings about Ghost came to the forefront of his mind.

A few minutes ago, he thought he would never get the chance to tell him how he felt. He wouldn’t waste his shot now, not when he could finally speak everything into the universe.

“I’ll always come after you, Simon. You’re not just ‘one person’ to me. I can’t-” he paused.

“I won’t, ever leave you behind. you’re too important to me.” The two made eye contact, words unsaid flashing across both of their faces.

Ghost reflected on the lengths that Johnny went to in order to keep him alive. How it felt to have his lips pressed against his own. He thought about Soap’s words, and he knew he felt the same. He had never felt so sure of something as he does with Johnny. Not when he was a child, not when he first joined the service, and sure as hell not after he became The Ghost.

As their friendly banter and awful jokes slowly morphed into something different, Ghost never let himself dream of being anything more than friends with his Sergeant. Couldn’t entertain even the idea in the chance that he would be rejected if he voiced them. Now, though, a new emotion bloomed in his chest. One he didn’t mind.

Hope.

“Always” Ghost parroted, nodding against Soap’s forehead. He let his eyes slip shut and his thumbs to caress Johnny’s cheeks, rubbing in a soothing motion back and forth.

Soap reveled under the touch.

“Si?”, he asked. Keeping his hands on his cheeks, Ghost pulled their faces apart, leaning back just enough that they could look into eachothers’ eyes. When he titled his head to the side in question, Soap took that as his cue to continue.

“Can I kiss you?”

The smile Simon gave him was blinding. Without the mask in the way, Soap could see the corners of his lips as they turned up, the crows feet appearing in the corner of his eyes. He saw the scars as they stretched, not used to being moved in that happy direction.

Most importantly, he saw his mouth as it moved, and heard a “please” as it slipped out.

That was all the permission he needed before Soap surged forward, gently pushing his lips to Simon’s.

There was a noticeable difference this time, no longer for the purpose of delivering air, for trying again and again to jumpstart his heart. Simon felt warm, he felt alive under his touch.

He felt good.

Tears began to tumble down Soap’s face.

“I love you,” he confessed. He went in to give Ghost another kiss.

“I love you so much,” - a peck to his forehead.

“You're alive” - two pecks to each eyelid.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” - a peck on his nose.

Soap kept speaking out affirmations, each time kissing a different part of his face. With each kiss, he could see the blush get darker on Simon’s cheeks, his smile growing even more. He looked almost bashful as Soap praised him, but that didn’t stop him from continuing.

Simon was alive.

And Soap would spend his remaining days making sure he knew how loved he was.

Suddenly a strong hand gripped his chin, pausing his movements. “I love you too, so much sweetheart.” Ghost used his thumb to swipe away his tears, as Soap couldn’t help but feel shivers at the pet name.

“God, I can’t believe you just did all that to save me. You’re incredible,” a smaller smile appeared on Simon’s face, before pressing their mouths back together.

While he loved the tiny kisses blessing his face, he had this hunger in him. He wanted to feel Soap against him, wanted to keep proving to his mind that no, he didn’t drown in that lake. Johnny had saved him.

This was real.

The two spent time deepening their kisses. Reaffirming to themselves that the other is there, that their love was reciprocated.

Though both of them were still wet and covered in sand, they could barely feel it over the roaring of their hearts. This was yet another moment that they needed to take. Couldn’t leave until they had finished discovering one another.

Soap felt hands return to either side of his face as Ghost knocked their foreheads together once again.

“We should probably get out of here, I could kill for a change of clothes right now” Ghost commented, albeit a bit reluctantly. Neither of them wanted that moment to end.

“Anything you want, sir.” Soap delivered the line in a joking manner, but there was still an underlying promise. He would do anything for the man. He hoped he proved that today, but he would continue to show him every day after.

He stood first, extending his hand to Ghost. A hand weaved into his as he helped the older man wobbly pull himself to his feet.

They needed to have a proper conversation later. Once evac had picked them up, when they were finally warm and dry - and safe. Ghost knew that Soap had his six, he always did. The bond between them was unbreakable.

There was a lot they would inevitably face when they returned to base. Neither had fully unpacked the day’s events, and with that would come a long road of healing and recovery.

But Ghost and Soap were together again, Simon and Johnny.

They were here and they were alive.

That was all he needed for now. He knew everything else would fall into place later.

//