#no mactavish is to be trusted

[ghouljams]

Theyre all just fucking gaslighting you at the Mactavish family reunion. What do you mean you've been kidnapped, Johnny's been telling us about you for years :) he's got pictures and everything.

[bluegiragi]

everything (part 3)

full version on patreon on bluesky

[moongreenlight]

Johnny is the kind of guy that you hook up with when you’re on a girls trip and fully expect to never see him again.

But it turns out he was on deployment so when you go home and start seeing him at the grocery store you think there’s no way it could be him. Has to be a trick of the light.

It’s not. When he sees you in the frozen aisle he’ll come straight up behind you and grope your ass like he has the right.

“Knew it was ye. Know you better from this angle than the front, anyhow.”

[soap-ify]

nsfw under cut.

Reader who’s just angry. You’ve been angry for practically your whole life — an angry child to an angry mother. It was natural for you to be untrustworthy of others, always on guard and reluctant to get too close. What if they’d run away once they saw who you really were? You weren’t full on aggressive, you’ve learned to control it by now — you’d rather die than be anything like your parents.

Imagine your surprise when Johnny just happens to break through your walls with such ease, the ones you had spent your whole life trying to keep up. It’s almost baffling, really. He was quite the energetic guy — enamoured by explosives which was akin to his own temper. How could you both just happen to be so calm when with each other?

He had stepped into your life one day out of nowhere, a drink and a few jokes, and here you were now — in his arms while he was taking a nap — snoring. You would’ve taken a video if his arms weren’t so snug around you. He’s just got a way of calming you, it seemed. Every mistake you’d make had you thinking that he’d start an argument, but all he would do was laugh it off and help you out. Perhaps fire and fire really wasn’t such a bad duo.

Plus there was no way in hell he disliked a feisty thing like you when you were both in bed, your fingernails digging into his back — after countless reassurances from him that you could go as hard as you wanted — red lines marring his skin while his cock would be stuffing you all nicely, fuckimg the anger out of you.

You were convinced that he was a masochist.

[spectrefyt]

Meeting Cù Sìth

This is my entry for the large GhostSoap server's Ides of March event! The moment I read that this event was inspired by folklore, I JUMPED out of my seat and ran to my iPad to start drawing, weheh. I had so much fun exploring compositions and trying to create stories to match the theme-- thank you so much to the hosts of the event! ^^

[aweisz]

@forsaire's writing continues to have a grip on my soul

[atomite-ton]

ghost always had the default alarm set to wake him up in the mornings. specifically the loud, jarring, classic iphone alarm that would jolt him up and out of bed at 5am sharp every day. he never thought anything of it, never felt the need to change it. it did the job, after all.

until johnny.

the first night they'd slept in the same bed- simon curled up with his upper half sprawled over johnny's chest and his head tucked under his chin- the alarm had sent johnny shooting out of bed in a jolt so violent, they had both ended up tangled on the floor.

after that, johnny had stoutly refused to go anywhere near simon's bed until he changed the sound to something a little less heart-attack inducing.

and so, simon had fiddled around with his alarm setting until they settled on something a little softer. it was nice in a way he had never considered, waking up to the cheerful clanging of distant bells, rather than the harsh blaring he was used to.

it allowed him some time to breath, to indulge in the warm body pressed against his own. simon treasured those stolen moments, wrapped around each other, trading sleepy kisses before it was time to rise and face the day.

even now, alone in the bed that had only just started to adapt to consistent warmth, the tune stays the same.

even as the choir of bells grate against his ears, once soothing, now too akin to the church bells that rang hollow and foreboding, he keeps it. call it masochism, call it sentimentality, he cant bring himself to switch it back.

he knows johnny would want him to keep it, if only to make the mornings a little softer. johnny always wanted him to indulge in the little comforts of life, and even now, simon will always be helpless to obey his every whim.

and so, he continues to rise to distant bells, thinks of his johnny, and faces the day anew.

[aussiepineapple1st]

He trusts Johnny

[phosphoracat]

The Love You Want

cw: none for now || mistrust, johnny being a flirt, ghost lowkey setting this up knowing the consequences, birthday trope

She hates when he leaves.

Ghost had been deployed for months before being allowed to return, and a mere two days later, he was called back to service. All Ghost had told her was “a while” when she'd asked how long he'd be gone this time; every time Ghost was deployed, they argued. She couldn't help herself- he was always gone for so long and it always hurt her, not because he was leaving due to his job, but because she'd be alone once more.

Previously, she'd told Ghost it was fine that he was deployed, that he'd be gone for extended periods of time, but over time it really started to bother her. Thus, leading to the current situation.

A knock sounded on the door of their apartment, and peeping through the hole, she saw a man standing there with flowers, chocolates, and a ridiculous mohawk. She debated on leaving him there and sneaking away from the door quietly, but her phone vibrated in her pocket, and a quick check proved it was Ghost.

‘Happy birthday, love’

She reluctantly unlocked the deadbolts and the extra locks on the door before slowly opening it, peering at the other man, on guard. “Can I help you?” she asked softly, fingers curling around the pepper spray hanging behind the door for situations such as these.

“Aye, lass,” came his deep, gravelly voice, as if he growled the words. “Ghost sent me. Said ya get lonely, and wanted to give ya a present for yer birthday.”

She narrowed her eyes a little, obviously not trusting this man. “I don't know who Ghost is,” she replied with practiced precision, well-trained by Ghost within the first few months of their relationship to lie when someone mentioned him or asked for him.

The man just huffed a laugh, nervous, shifting on his feet. “O'course ya do. Big scary bastard in the special forces. Simon Riley. Spooky fucker that wears a mask.”

Just then, before she could proceed to lie further, her phone started vibrating like crazy. Keeping an eye on the man at the door, she checked her phone- Ghost, naturally.

‘Let him in, dove’

‘It's just Johnny’

‘I sent him’

‘Baby, let him in, it's alright’

She heaved a sigh before pocketing her phone and shutting the door to fully unlock it, the chain removed from its slot, and reopening the door to ‘Johnny’. “Come in,” she sighed, placing her full trust in Ghost and turning her back to the Scottish man to start making herself and him a cup of coffee.

She can hear Johnny moving behind her, hyper-vigilant to his every move, tracking the sounds of his footsteps and even the way he breathed. Ghost had instilled this kind of panic, this kind of mistrust in her early on into their relationship, reinforcing it over the past few years. Hell, he praised her for it.

She listened as Johnny set the flowers on the kitchen counter behind her, as he set the chocolates beside it… and another item that she had no idea he even had. She only turned when coffee was in both mugs, making hers the way she liked it, offering it to Johnny black.

“So, bonnie… Ghost has a gift for you.”

“My name isn't Bonnie,” she grumbled, misunderstanding Johnny as she was a silly little American girl. She'd never even met someone from Scotland before.

Johnny only snickered and grinned, stepping aside to reveal the beautiful lilies on the counter, the petals a mix of a soft yellow, and yellow mixed with pink. Her absolute, literal favorite flowers. Either Johnny was a serial killer who was super lucky, or Ghost really did send him. She naturally gravitated closer to the flowers, hesitant, cautious, eyeing Johnny from the corner of her eye as her fingers brushed the stems, the soft petals.

She murmured a soft thanks to him as she turned to fetch a vase from one of the cabinets, rinsing out the dust, adding lukewarm water to the vase and mixing in the plant food that came with the pretty- beautiful- flowers. She didn't get flowers often, as they died quickly and Ghost was more of a material man, but she still absolutely adored getting flowers.

Turning with the vase in hand, she gingerly settled the flowers into it and set it in the middle of the dining table, looking extremely pleased.

“You've got more, lass,” Johnny gently reminded her, and she turned to be met with an honest-to-God box of her favorite chocolates, and a wrapped mystery gift. She furrowed her eyebrows a little, assessing the wrapped gift, running through whatever it could be. It was as long as her arm, and about as thick as it, too. It was quite big… big enough to be a bomb. Well, maybe not that extreme; Ghost did say he sent Johnny, so surely he must trust this man enough to not destroy her and their apartment.

Cautiously, like a stray dog being met with fresh food from a stranger, she began to open the gift. She was careful with the wrapping, as if it'd blow up if she went any quicker or less careless, and after a moment, the gift was revealed.

A really, really nice monitor, that came in the box with a pretty pink keyboard and mouse, and a… oh my God, a mini PC! Her lips parted in sheer surprise, letting her guard down slightly in glee and shock. Johnny simply grinned, as Ghost had told him why he was getting this specific thing for her.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, excitement at the levels of a kid on Christmas, but it was June. “Thank you, Johnny, thank you, holy fuck!” She grinned right back at him, her carefully constructed walls starting to crumble. She fished out her phone to text Ghost, thanking him profusely, to which he responded with a heart.

‘i'm giving you the sloppiest toppy when you come home for this’

All Ghost responded to that with was a thumbs up, which made her huff a laugh at how ancient he must be.

Johnny helped her set up the mini PC as well as the monitor, even installing Steam for her before awkwardly standing there as she immediately busies herself with downloading and buying games to play.

“Well, lass, I’ll leave you to it,” Johnny says after a minute, offering her a smile. “But before I go… here. Happy birthday, bonnie.”

She turns, confused, as Johnny sets a tiny wrapped box in her palm, carefully unwrapping it to find a beautiful bracelet. It had butterfly charms on it in pastel, Easter colors, which so happened to be her favorite. “How did you…?” she asked softly, in awe of the beautiful jewelry.

“Have a little birdie in my corner,” he teased, but it was true; she figures Ghost told him everything she likes to properly get her gifts, or to help ease her anxiety and fear of a stranger.

She doesn't think- which would get her killed if Johnny was a worse man than he is- before she gently wraps her arms around his waist in a brief, soft hug. Her perfume filled Johnny's nose, sticking to his shirt, and he'd immediately fall in love if this wasn't his best friend's girlfriend.

“Thank you, Johnny,” she murmured, immediately working on putting on the bracelet and failing. Johnny stepped in, deft fingers expertly clipping the bracelet onto her wrist, before pulling away.

“Aye, looks right bonnie on you,” he murmured, still in her space. Their faces were somewhat close, his eyes drifting from hers to her lips, then back to her eyes immediately as if he'd spook her. He did.

She took a little step back, flustered, frustrated with herself. So Ghost was gone for a month and she immediately gets hot and bothered around another man? She hates herself.

“I oughta be goin’, lass,” Johnny expertly suggested, picking up on her feelings and that he'd probably overstayed his purpose of being here. “It was nice to meet ya. I'm sure I'll be seein’ ya.” With a two-fingered salute, Johnny let himself out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

She scrambled to turn all of the deadbolts and locks on the door, safe once more… but not from her thoughts.

All she could think about was how guilty and angry she was, that she seriously considered kissing Johnny right then. How lonely was she that it was even an option in her head? Ghost would surely kill her. God, Ghost. Does this count as cheating, even if she didn't do anything? She was spiralling. God, she hates herself.

banners by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

[losersimonriley]

Top 10 moments filmed seconds before disaster

[lemonwrap]

Thinking about how if you use 09 Ghost’s backstory with 22 Ghost, Ghost likely hasn’t trusted anyone since Roba. He retreated into himself and became a husk, because it was clear that trusting anybody in pretty much any capacity was just asking to get fucked over.

The only thing he seemed to have left was his job. He didn’t let a single soul close to him, barely tolerating even Price and Gaz, and spent too much time contemplating pulling the trigger.

And then Soap waltzes into his life.

Soap is energetic, flirty, and seems to think he’s the funniest person in the whole damn world—the only good thing about him is that he’s excellent at his job. Ghost kind of hates him. He keeps all communication short and professional, and avoids Soap outside of missions whenever possible.

But Soap was instantly drawn to his new lieutenant, and despite the man’s rebuffs and typically cold demeanor, Soap has never been one to give up easily. He makes an effort to get to know the elusive Ghost. It happens slowly—very slowly—but Ghost begins to warm up to Soap. He tolerates the sergeant’s jokes better (and even occasionally likes them), speaks more than a few words to him at a time, and Soap’s bright personality no longer makes him want to push the man out of a window. Usually. Ghost starts to look forward to spending time with Soap, and they work together better than ever before. Even Price notices the change.

And then Las Almas happens. Ghost hears Soap’s voice over the comms, and realizes with a startling clarity that he’s relieved that Soap is alive, and not for tactical reasons—he’s relieved Soap is alive because he likes him.

Ghost could’ve left Soap behind, but he didn’t. He coached Soap with jokes, advice, and encouragement as he made his way through the city. He waited in that church with bated breath until Soap arrived, bleeding and exhausted but managing a smile.

After that, they’re practically joined at the hip. Ghost gains something he hasn’t had in a long, long time: someone to trust.

[ironteeth-fury]

Graves and Shepherd who get pardoned after the whole Las Almas debacle because power, money, connections and America

And price and laswell try their goddamn bests but there is nothing they can do

And Ghost is a wreck. Two men he worked with, that he had to trust in the field, who /betrayed/ him, and there are no consequences? This is not something he can fix, not a problem he can make go away with a knife or a gun because he's army and legally their hands are tied.

And he would, he knows he would hunt them down and kill them and take the fall for it, if that means that he never comes home to dead loved ones again because he left a threat out in the world, a threat he ran away from instead of dealing with it.

But he also knows if he kills them, Price will get in trouble. Laswell too, likely. Maybe even Gaz and Soap.

So he stays put, barely sleeps, obsessively keeps an eye on his team and doesnt let them out of his sight. Becomes paranoid about checking locks and watching his team sleep. Hates hates hates that Laswell and her wife dont live on base -how is he supposed to watch, protect and defend if she isnt here?

And Soap sees all of this and tries to help, really he does, but nothing has an effect and he can see ghost collapsing under the sleep deprivation.

So he fibbs. Tells ghost hes been having nightmares (true) about las almas (true) about stalking the streets and being alone (also true) and would ghost please keep watch while soap sleeps because then he wont be alone. And soap made it out of that hell with Ghost watching over him, so if ghost watches over him again he'll make it out of this hell, too. And yes, this is all true.

But its also a ploy in the hope that Ghost will accept the same favor after.

He's heard his sisters complain about their husbands plenty, about how they will not accept help unless they think theyre providing it instead. So he tries that, and it helps, but not enough.

And Soap, desperately in love with Ghost at this point, angry at the world, impulsive and protective and oh so skilled, has had enough.

He does his research, makes preperations, gets another idea, thinks /fuck it/ and works on incorporating that, too.

He gets Price to send him and Ghost back to las almas, to help rudy and alejandro.

He crosses his t's and dots his i's

And asks Simon on a date.

Simon is fucking blindsided by this, it came out of nowhere what the fuck? And because he is so startled his brain gets no time to overthink and he just blurts out a "yes". Soap grins, pats him on the arm and tells him to be ready at 7, wear comfortable clothes.

So simon spends the rest of the day freaking out, he doesnt know how to date, hes never been on a date in his life. Dinner, movies, minigolf? What the fuck is he supposed to do with that??

And then Soap shows up with a dazzling grin and workout gear and hands him a gift. "Didnae think you were the type for flowers, L.t." he'll say, and its a /knife/ and its clearly custom made, different types of flowers etched into the blade and the handle both. Its sharp and perfectly balanced and the nerves calm down

Soap knows who he asked out, knows he would be uncomfortable with dinner and a movie. Ghost just has to trust him.

Its kind of scary how easy it is to admit that, yes, he does trust Johnny. With his life -with the lives of his loved ones. With his nightmares and his memories and the fact that his hands shake when there is dirt under his nails.

So he takes the knife, says thank you, and follows Soap.

And Soap? Takes him to a mission briefing? There are blueprints and schedules and movement logs. Soap wont tell him the target or exactly what theyre doing, and Ghost feels like he should be wary, but he isnt.

Because its Soap.

So Soap takes him on this mission and it ends with Graves on his knees in front of them, hands cuffed behind his back, and Johnny telling him "you can either kill him here, or I have a secondary location we can take him. We have all night, and all of tomorrow as well. Whatever you want, darling"

So yeah, murder date. Knife gifts. And i have more ideas on how this goes but tbh i am writing this and wouldn't wanna spoil everything ahaha.

Inspired by a blsky thread that made my brain run wild. (Blsky link but also ao3 link for the same thread for those that prefer that)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58595743/chapters/162947845

And a lil bit of the actual writing cuz why not

[fisheyes-are-tasty]

little sergeant mactavish doodle

[gomzdrawfr]

141 with matching willy exerciser dumbbells

[leathfaic]

I've been sitting on a headcanon for over a year now because I know that once I put it out I will want to expand on it.

But fuck it what is one more writing project?

I want Ghost to be fucking paranoid about Laswell finding out about him and Johnny. Not even because she would necessarily tear them apart but because she would absolutely use it. To her advantage and thus potentially against them.

Send them out on a dangerous undercover op for months under the guise of having left so they could be together. Infiltrating some dubious PMC perhaps that doesn't quite care, they're getting the Ghost and his Sergeant after all, if they just look the other way. What a fucking deal and how dumb the government is to let those 2 become mercenaries just because they like to fuck each other. One wrong step one wrong word and they might both end up dead.

But far more than physical harm just the threat of keeping them apart if they don't comply. Days that easily spin into weeks and months that they just keep missing each other, mission beginning before the other gets back from his current one. Until Laswell pointedly asking if they are going to behave this time is "graciously" giving them another chance to work together.

Because really, there's nothing they can do, right? They could be dishonourably discharged for fraternisation and instead Laswell is "only" using it to twist their arms.

Price, even if he knows can't really help them either because again, any kind of ruckus about this and it could end so much worse.

Soap probably has a little more faith in Laswells morals, although I'm sure the more they work together the more that quickly fades and he understands Ghost's caution. That woman got to where she is in life for a reason.

So they are still close with each other when she's around. Would be weird if they stopped all of a sudden, bound to draw her attention too. But always minding a careful line. Keeping it to the "brothers in arms". Never giving away too much. And sometimes that stings even more. When Ghost sees Johnny's need for physical contact and can't do more than give him a manly pat on the shoulder. Torn apart by the need to hold him.

When Soap notices that Ghost isn't sleeping on an op, knowing he should be there and talk him through the night until the bad dreams fade and Ghost gets at least a few hours of shut-eye. Nothing he can offer but empty phrases and a dumb comment about Ghost clearly needing to get laid.

They both know of course. What they really mean. It's still grating.

Better than it could be if she knew though. Worth to keep what they have safe.

[s0fter-sin]

trans!soap taking his baby and running away from his rich abusive husband

(cw angst, financial abuse, single threat of child abuse, single mention of transphobia)

he's owned soap for years, since he was a teenager; paid for his medication and all his surgeries and tied them so deeply, soap’s lost hope of ever getting away. he gets even worse when soap falls pregnant. he was always controlling; blowing up at him if he spent too long out of the house or did something without telling him. but he becomes utterly possessive during the pregnancy

soap knows it has nothing to do with his safety or the baby's

he knows he sees his baby as an investment; another being he can control and hold over him

he gets worse and worse but there’s nothing soap can do. there's been nothing he can do for a long time. then a few months after the baby is born, soap doesn’t watch his tone closely enough and his husband threatens to drop his baby in punishment for it

soap doesn't think. he doesn't plan

he takes his baby and runs

he sneaks out of the servant's quarters of the sterile mansion he's been forced to live in for almost a decade and walks down the street without a backwards glance; his baby the only thing in his arms. he knows all of his husband's cars have trackers, all of them in his name since he never lets soap drive or go anywhere by himself, so he walks far enough to be out of view of the mansion's cameras and steals one. it doesn't have a car seat and all he can do is clutch his baby to his chest as he drives

he doesn't know where he's going beyond away

he doesn't know what he's going to do; he doesn't have any money, no supplies for his baby, he doesn't even have water for himself so he can reliably breastfeed him. he's terrified his husband will find them; he’s always felt omniscient, always everywhere and seeing everything he did. if he didn’t have eyes somewhere, he paid someone who did and they always dutifully reported back to him

soap just keeps his eyes forward. just keeps driving and driving, lost to the road and numb until the low gas light pops up on the dash and it all hits him at once

he turns into a gas station he can't pay for, in a car he stole, and parks behind it and his baby immediately starts getting fussy

he can't even call him by his name sometimes; too afraid to get attached, too afraid to lose him. as if he doesn’t love him more than life itself

even throughout his pregnancy, as happy as he was to finally have a baby, he didn't know if he could carry to term and that fear just let his husband dig his claws in even deeper; paying for extra scans he could never hope to pay for, favours on top of favours so he would aways owe him and isn’t he such a loving husband? taking soap in when his parents kicked him out for being trans, looking after him for all these years? you can’t even take care of yourself john, you’d still be a woman without me, john, what is this tantrum about john-

soap tugs his shirt up to let his baby feed, drops his head back and cries

he can't stop it; wails loud and uncontrolled, chest heaving with his sobs enough that it sways his baby, occasionally breaking his latch and he can't even do this right-

he can't save him

a light knock sounds on the window and soap flinches, curling over his baby to protect him from his huband's cruel hands

but it's not his husband outside the window

soap blinks tears from his eyes and looks at the large stranger standing beside the car. a neck gaiter covers his mouth and it should be off-putting… but something about him stops the feeling in its tracks. the stranger takes a half-step back and lifts a chilled and sealed water bottle, pressing it towards the window

soap quickly swipes his face clean and rolls down the window. "sorry 'bout that," he apologises with a choked laugh, the careful front he’s built over the years cracked and bleeding

the stranger gives a dismissive but somehow not diminishing shrug. "long day?" he asks

"could say that," he gives a shrug of his own and pats his baby's back as he makes a disgruntled noise, unconsciously swaying him

he politely keeps his gaze up on his face. "looks like you could use a break."

soap's breath hitches, anxiously darting his tongue out over his bottom lip. "could say that," he repeats uselessly and takes the water with a quiet “thanks,”; his throat dry and screaming for it after crying so hard

the stranger hums, watching him down the bottle and soap doesn’t notice his eyes drifting to the backseat and footwell of the passenger side. doesn’t notice the slight tension in his fists at what he sees. "how long you been runnin', lad?"

soap freezes, the water settling in his stomach like a stone. he swallows thickly and the bottle falls from his lips

"not long enough."

the stranger just nods, looking idly back down the highway

"you know, this place is connected to a garage,” he starts, nodding back to a building attached to the station without taking his eyes off the road. “lotta people drift through 'ere on road trips; too many to keep track.”

soap frowns slightly, shifting his hold on his baby

“funny thing is, plenty of 'em just abandon their car when they break down. like yours,” he adds and finally turns back to him with a pointed look. “got a whole junkyard of 'em. just rustin' away. be pretty easy to convince me to trade ya one."

soap’s mouth parts in a gasp as he realises just what the stranger’s saying. "how easy?" he whispers

he shrugs and even with his face hidden beneath the gaiter, he doesn’t feel afraid. "i'd say this car'd be a good deal. would blend right in with the rest of ‘em; no one’d ever notice it. what say i take it off your hands?"

soap's breath shudders out of him, his whole body going limp with relief. his baby's eyes fall shut with a satisfied hum and for the first time he can remember, he feels the gentle touch of hope

"i think we can work something out."

🧼💀

ghost owns the service station soap pulled into. he wanted something quiet and isolated after he retired and you can’t get much quieter than a backwoods servo surrounded by forest. he hasn’t had anyone pull in in days so he’s quick to notice soap’s car. he’s also quick to notice soap's subsequent breakdown in one of the cameras. the sight of him crying, desperately clutching a baby like they’re all he has left in the world, is so familiar he felt sick with it

he knows someone running when he sees it

if he didn't check on him, if this lad disappeared one day and the baby along with him, he'd never forgive himself. the lad doesn't even have a baby bag or car seat with him, and the personalised sticker on the back window of a lady and a dog is a dead giveaway that the car is stolen

but the lad is terrified. and when he startled him, he didn't turn. didn’t lift his arms to protect himself. no

he covered his baby

like he was afraid he'd be hurt

that's enough for ghost

🧼💀

i'd wanna set this in the 80's or 90's, just to make it even harder for soap to get away from his husband. he's a trans man with a newborn; he has no one to run to and no resources to help him. his husband's bought and paid for everything for him since he was 17; a few whirlwind weeks of unbelievable dates and extravagant gifts and he was living in his mansion, getting married the day after his 18th birthday. he thought it was love. thought he was being looked after and cared for the way he’s always wanted

he was in pain and alone and naive enough to believe the first person who came along and promised to make it better. nothing's in his name, not his insurance or his meds, he doesn’t have a bank account or savings; other than a birth certificate, nothing even ties him to his baby. his husband could take his world away from him with a snap of his fingers and he made sure soap always knew it

he never had a chance of getting away

but ghost is ex-military

he doesn’t know the lad’s story, doesn’t know the details of what he’s running from. he doesn’t need to know

he decided he was helping him the second he pulled into his service station