Ghoap - Blog Posts

lil drabble/Gladiator Ghoap

Ghoap, but they're both gladiators in ancient Rome. Soap, the celt from Northumbria, and Ghost, the always masked fighter from South Britannia. They loathed each other at the beginning, coming from warring tribes.

But being perched and enslaved together, having to share a room in the barracks does something. At first, they’d fight almost every day, bruises marring their bodies. Whenever they had a fight in the arena together, they were out for blood, even if the fight wasn’t supposed to happen between them.

They had to perform in order to survive in the ring. They had to give the audience what they wanted to see, otherwise their popularity would decline and they’d be sold. So they acted. They played the best friends with flirty fighting for the people, still hating each other as soon as they left the arena, though.

After some time, though, their acting from the arena affected them. They wouldn’t punch the other at the slightest provocation, sometimes even going as far as helping the other out when they came back from a fight injured.

Maybe sharing a room wasn’t so bad after all. And as the best two gladiators their master had, no one would bother them when there were some strange sounds coming from their room.

Note: Should you guys like this au, I’d be happy to write some more for it!

Bloody hands

Trigger warning: Graphic descriptions of pain, wounds and violence.

Note: The way I described it here is how I learned it in my tactical field care course, which is very different from what spec ops learn, so sorry for the inaccuracies. Also, there will be tactical inaccuracies as well, I have no idea what strategies the SAS uses on their missions.

Pairing: Ghost x Soap

Trope: Hurt/comfort, whump, angst

Word count:

It was a simple intel mission, something they’d done dozens of times before. Soap grabbing the intel from an old abandoned warehouse, Ghost in sniping position from a hill near the warehouse.

„Smooth as butter“, Soap thinks as he scouts the warehouse. The few hostiles were quickly eliminated, and he starts searching for the laptop. „How’s going in there, Johnny?“, Ghosts deep voice cracks through comms. „Beautifully, sir“. „Good. As soon as you got the intel, come to my location. Evac will take about half an hour to get here“. Soap rummages through a desk. „Understood“.

After a few minutes of searching, he finally finds the laptop. „Got it, Ghost“, he announces. „Well done, Johnny. Now get your arse over here“ „Yes sir“.

Soap quickly leaves the warehouse, carefully making his way towards the hill about two hundred meters away. „How’s the view from there, lt?“, he jokingly asks. No answer. „Ghost?“, he asks again. Still nothing. He gets a bit worried. „Ghost, you OK over there?“. Silence. He curses and picks up his pace.

As he reaches the foot off the hill, he sees something bloody in the tall grass. He scrambles towards the figure, sighing in relief when he identifies it as not Ghost. But a knife stuck out of the mans neck, it was one of Ghosts. He was in trouble.

As quickly as he could he runs up the hill, searching the ground for Ghost in his ghillie suit. When he finds him, his blood runs cold. Ghost is lying face down on the ground, a puddle of blood pooling around his torso. „Fuck, Ghost!“, Soap curses, quickly kneeling down next to him.

He turns him around and immediately grimaces at the sight. The mask was broken, his eyes closed. Blood pools out a bullet wound in his stomach, dark and slow.

„No no no no“, Soap mumbles, immediately pressing down on the wound, grabbing the med kit from his backpack. „Ghost! Wake up!“, he tries to urge the other man, putting on latex gloves and scissors, cutting away the fabric from his torso. Ghosts eyes flutter open. „Johnny“, he mumbles.

„Hey, hey“, Soap tries to talk to him, keeping him awake somehow. Ghost tries to speak, but his voice strangles into a pained moan when Soap starts packing the wound with quick clot gauze.

He tries to hide it, for Ghosts sake, but Soap panics. Ghost is hurt. That doesn’t happen. Some cuts and bruises, sure, but not like this. He was in pain, and he couldn’t hide it. Soap had never seen Ghost lose his composure, but here he was, hands gripping the fabric of the ghillie suit with white knuckles, small moans and whimpers leaving his lips as Soap tries to keep him from dying.

„It hurts“, Ghost mumbles, writhing under Soaps hands. „I know, I know, I‘m sorry“, Soap tries to comfort him, running his hands over Ghosts body to check for other injuries. The thoughts in his mind are running a hundred miles and hour as his hands press against his muscles, trying to ignore how he feels underneath his fingertips.

He grabs the morphine pen, uncapping it and stabbing it into Ghosts thigh, releasing the pain medication into his blood stream. „It’ll be better soon, I promise“, he tells him. His fingers reach up the the dishevelled mask, slowly pulling it off „I have to take this one off, lt. Gotta make sure you don’t accidentally swallow your tongue, yea?“ Ghost faintly nods, not enough strength in him to speak, a warm, comfortable cocoon starting to envelop him.

The sharp and agonising pain in his side slowly lessens to a dull ache, which is far more manageable. He tries to stay conscious, for Soap, but it is no use. He’s so tired, and no amount of struggling keeps him from slipping into a comforting darkness.

Soap in the mean time attempts to stop the shaking in his hands. He’s a sniper, a demolitions expert in the SAS, for fucks sake. He can keep his cool in the most stressful situations, but right now, he’s scared. Scared that it won’t be enough, that Ghost will die under his incompetent hands, killed on a stupid mission in a strange country.

Soap takes a look at his watch. Evac should be there in ten minutes. He prays to God he’ll be able to keep Ghost alive in the mean time. He doesn’t know what to do if he can’t. Ghost has passed out. At least he doesn’t have to feel the pain anymore. Soap would do anything to take it for him. With shaky hands he grabs a tube from the kit, intubating Ghost as gently as he can.

There isn’t much else he can do now anymore, only making sure Ghost keeps breathing and his heart keeps beating. He takes a look at the other far less damaging wounds, a fairly deep gash on his thigh and some bruises. With careful hands he cleans the gash from the dirt and dried blood, tightly wrapping a pressure bandage around it.

There isn’t more he can do now. He just has to wait and hope. A shuddering breath escapes him as he leans back on his knees, looking at Ghost. He looks so… Small. It is terrifying. Soap is used to being cared for by Ghost, whether it be being pulled out of the line of fire by the straps of his vest or big hands pressing into his body to stem a flow of blood. But not the other way around. The most he did for Ghost was helping him wrap a bandage around his arm once. But now, the mighty, strong and scary Ghost lies on the ground, hurt and weak.

It wasn’t the first time Soap had seen his face, but definitely the longest. His eyes were closed now, but Soap knew they were beautiful. A deep and rich brown, like the bark of an oak tree in summer. His lips were dry but of a slight pink colour, and way too plump for his own good. Soap wonders what they’d feel like on his, on his skin, on his-

The familiar sound of a chopper coming closer tears him out of his thoughts. He quickly scrambles up, packing the leftover plastic wrappers of the med kit in his bag pack, kneeling next to Ghost with a hand on his chest.

Two soldiers storm out, a stretcher in their hands. Soap helps them to roll Ghost onto it, and he gets quickly carried inside the chopper. A medic awaits them, and Soap hurries to report about Ghosts condition to him.

„Sit back, I‘ll take it from here“, he says and turns to Ghost. Soap lets himself fall heavily onto a bench, his own exhaustion getting stronger. He fights to keep his eyes open and trained on Ghosts unconscious figure, taking his hand in his and squeezing it, hoping he could feel it.

„You’re gon‘ be alright, ok? I‘m here, I won’t leave you alone“

Alive / Part XII

Trigger warnings: Explicit sexual content in the form of a handjob. (I pray that my parents will never find my blog, Annie, ich weiß, dass du das hier lesen wirst. Kein. Einziges. Wort. Sonst werf ich dich ausm Fenster. Das gilt auch für dich, Milena. :)) Notes: This is my first ever attempt at smut, so sorry if it's awkward to read. I also have no idea how to conjugate "Lay", so sorry to all the English majors out there. Word count: 668

They stayed on that hill for hours. Barely talking, just looking at the sky and sea in silence, enjoying the moment together.

The sun started to set, the sky painted in a deep gold, the sunrays making the scene look etheral, like sunlight pouring out of a hundred broken urns.

When they got home, the house was still empty (Molly knew they'd need some time to get it going, so she made sure they'd have their peace)

"I'm gonna take a shower", Ghost announced. Soap plopped down on the bed. "Have fun"

Ten minutes later, Ghost stepped out the bathroom, blond locks wet, his bare torso bathed in the golden sunlight, a towel slung over his hips. "Looking good, lt", Soap smirked. Ghost grumbled and sat down on the bed. "Shut it" He lay down next to Soap, the towel dangerously low on his hips. Soap peered down. He was unsure, but he really wanted to. "Can I?", he asked quietly. Ghost swallowed, then nodded. Very, very slowly and gently Soap pulled away the towel, eyes fixed on Ghosts cock. "Not bad, lt". It was already half hard. He looked at Ghost again, checking for any sign of discomfort. He didn't find any, his eyes half lidded and it seemed like he was holding his breath. With a featherlight touch Soap ran his fingertips over it, cataloging every ridge and vein. Ghost let out a shuddering breath. "That sensitive, huh?", Soap teased. Ghost just nodded. "Please, stop teasing me", he whispered. Soap raised an eyebrow. "Yes sir" Soap leaned over the bed, grabbing a small bottle of lube from the nightstand, squirting a bit on his hand before wrapping it around Ghosts cock. He really was sensitive, letting out a small gasp at the sensation. Soap took this as a sign to take up the pace, tightening his hand and rubbing his thumb over the red tip. "Does it feel good?", he looked at Ghost whose eyes were fixed on Soaps hand around his cock, biting his lower lip to supress the sounds threatening to escape him. "Simon?", he asked again. Ghost nodded, eyes lidded. Soap chuckled. "Usually I'd have you say it loud, but I'm gonna let it slide". He continued at the same pace for a few minutes, letting Ghost get used to the sensation. He seemed to enjoy it quite a lot. A grin spread on his face as Ghosts subconsciously thrust his hips upwards, and he sped up and tightened his hand, drawing a small gasp from him. He gripped he sheets, his knuckles white. "Wanna hold my hand?", Soap asked, to which Ghost only nodded, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. His breathing got more erratic, and Soap could feel his cock twitch in his hand. "You're gonna come, Simon?", Soap cooed. "Y-yes", Ghost gasped. "Go on then", he whispered. Ghost let out a strangled whimper, squeezing Soaps hand tightly, white ropes soaking Soaps hand. His thighs trembled and he was breathing as if he'd run a marathon. Soap pressed a kiss on Ghosts forehead, getting up to get a wash cloth. Gently and carefully he wiped his body down. "Thank you", Ghost whispered. Soap grinned. "Did you like it?" Ghost nodded. "Then I guess it's a job well done, no need to thank me" He smiled. "I'm gonna shower" "Wait!", Ghost said, slowly getting up. "Give me a second, and I'll return the favour", he mumbled, hands shaking slightly as he reached for Soaps pants. "No no no, Simon, stop", Soap grabbed his hands. "There is no favour to return, you don't owe me anything", he looked Ghost in the eyes. "I want you to know that. I love you. You don't owe me. I choose to make you feel good. It's not a debt. We're not in a rush. We can take as much time as you want and need." Ghost nodded and sat back down on the bed. Soap smiled.

"Sleep a bit. I'll be there when you wake up"

Notes: Sorry that it took so long, I had to stop various times to stop cringing. It's also quite awkward writing this stuff in class. Anyway, I'm omw to bathe in holy water.

Guys. What do you think think abt some fanart? I'd love to draw some, but I'm not sure it is what ya'll would like.

Alive / Part XI

Trigger warning: Talking and descriptions about sexual abuse and rape. Word count: 669 They started the hike in silence. An awkward silence. They both knew they'd have to talk about it, but neither of them knew how to start. They knew how to kill, but they didn't know how to love.

About an hour of silence went by before they stopped. It was a beautiful view from a hill down the valley on the one side, and a steep cliff looking down on the wind whipped sea on the other.

Ghost took off the backpack he was carrying, taking out a water bottle and handing it to Soap. "Thanks", he mumbled before taking a few sips.

After a few minutes of more silence passed. "We have to talk", Soap said. This one phrase made Ghost more nervous than he'd like to admit. Less nervous than when he was on a mission that could easily end deadly. "Yea...", he mumbled.

Soap seemed nervous too. "I'm sorry, Simon. I shouldn't have done that", he said awkwardly. Ghost wanted to tell him he didn't mind, but that wasn't the truth. At least not the whole one.

Soap sighed. "When I uh, when... The accident. I could hear you. You said you loved me", he looked at Ghost with those blue eyes of his. The same colour as the stormy sea, dangerouse but, oh, so tempting. Ghost wished he could live in them. Soaps words hit him. He hadn't expected him to hear them. Hell, he thought he was dead.

"You, you what?", was all he could say. Soap smiled. "You heard me. And I heard you." His gaze seemed to stare into Ghosts soul. "Do you love me, Simon?", he asked, plainly. Ghost was taken aback, not knowing what to say. Well, he knew what to say, but he didn't know if he could say it.

Ghost sat down clumsily on the grass, Soap sitting down a meter in front of him. "I thought if you liked me too, I could, you know, I thought you'd like it...", Soap tried to explain himself. Ghost wished he could tell him, tell him everything, but it hurt, it hurt so bad.

"I'm sorry, Simon.", he apologized. Ghost wanted to scream. "I love you", he mumbled. Soap looked at him with a mix of surprise, sadness and hope. He smiled. "Well, that's good. Because I love you too, you muttonhead". A quiet sigh of relief escaped Ghosts lips.

Soap seemed to be contemplating what to say. Ghost leaned back, lying down on the green grass. Soap did the same thing, lying next to him. "If you like me too, then why'd you seem so.... Averse?", he asked.

Ghosts mouth opened and closed like a fish. The words, the truth wanted to rip out his body so desperately. But he knew it'd rip him apart. But if he left it unspoken, it would eat him from the inside.

"They hurt me....", he whispered. "They touched me, they made me do things", he got choked up. "I had to, I had to, I had to survive, it wasn't my fault", he got panicky. "Hey, hey, Simon", Soap tried to ground him. "It's alright, I'm here, I'm right here", he placed a careful hand on Ghosts side. "You're safe now"

Slowly Ghost started to calm down a bit. "I just want you to know that we don't have to do anything. I'm just happy to be here with you" Ghost wanted to scream yet again. He didn't deserve this, he hadn't allowed himself to indulge in many things. Pretty much nothing.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?", Soap asked. Ghost gulped. "They touched me... I didn't want them to, I didn't want it", he breathed heavily. "They forced me on my knees... I couldn't breathe". Soap sighed. "I'm so sorry that happened, Simon".

They just kept lying in silence. It was a comfortable silence. The memories still hurt. But it felt like they couldn't quite reach him. He felt safer.

He felt safe. For the first times in ages.

Notes: I know that this description of deep trauma is pretty unrealistic, but this is for the sake of the fanfiction, since I don't want to write a hundred parts of unlinear healing and therapy until they finally bone.

Alive / Part X

Trigger warning: Mentions and descriptions about sexual abuse and rape. Word count: 459

The rest of the breakfast was tasty, but awkward. Ghost felt like Molly knew. (She does). She kept glancing at him and Soap, who were sitting next to each other, a mischevious smirk on her face.

After finishing eating, they helped clean the dishes and went up to their bedroom to brush their teeth. Ghost was quiet, but he could feel Soaps eyes on him the entire time. He wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy what happened, not at all. It just felt so.... Weird. Unfamiliar. He's had his fair share of experiences, but it has been years. And in the mean time there were some.... Rather unpleasant events. He stood in front of the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. He could feel their hands on him, doing whatever they wanted to with his body, forcing him to go on his knees and please them. He wanted to puke, nausea overcoming him. "I had to , I had to, I had to survive", he repeated over and over in his mind, a tear rolling down his cheek. It had taken years before he could even touch himself again without having a panic attack. Since then no one had touched him in that way. He didn't want them to. Sometimes he missed the intimacy, but he was afraid to crave it, knowing he wouldn't be able to allow someone so close to him. But now there was Soap. Ghost damned himself for it, but he trusted the man. Fuck, he loved him. And for the first time in what seemend like a lifetime, he craved touch. His touch. His hands dug in his neck, knuckles white and leaving small, red shapes in his skin.

"You ok in there, lt?", Soaps voice sounded from outside the door. "Er, yea, 'm fine", Ghost hurried to answer, voice a bit choked up. Soap didn't say anything. Quickly wiping his wet eyes and putting on his stoic expression, he stepped out the bathroom. He was certain Soap could see that he had cried, but he luckily didn't say anything.

"So, you wanna go for a hike?", Soap asked lowly, inching closer to Ghost, putting his hands on his waist. Ghost suddenly felt claustrophobic. He loved his touch and hated it at the same time. He stumbled backwards. Soap looked confused at a bit hurt, no, more regretful.

Ghost cleared his throat. "Yea, why not. Lovely weather", he mumbled. He began to look for his cargo pants and a shirt. Soap was awfully quiet. Ghost wanted to slap himself for repulsing. He craved him so much it hurt. It scared him.

He turned around, wanting to say something. "I'm sorry, Johnny", he said.

But Soap was already gone.

Note: I did not plan for this to turn out this dark, but I wanted to bring in an explanation for Ghosts mixed feelings on intimacy, since his sexual abuse and rape are canon. I've personally never read the comics, so this is just my interpretation. I also want to mention that the reactions to sexual trauma are extremely subjective, how I described it here is just my personal experience.

Alive / Part IX

Word count: 156

The walk down the stairs was rather awkward. Soap was grinning to himself, Ghost desperately trying to make his boner go away.

The table was set with fresh bread, strawberries, cheese, sausage and all kinds of delicious food. Ghost suddenly felt how hungry he was.

"I don't know what you boys planned to do today", Molly said between bites, "Callum and I are going to the fair, and Isla and Alec wanted to go to the city and buy some new clothes for the kids, they are growing so fast", she gently pinched Archie's cheek.

Soap thought for a moment, smirking at Ghost. "We're gonna take it easy today, mum. Maybe go for a hike later, yea?", he looked at Ghost. A million thoughts raced through Ghosts head, most of them on how much he wants Soaps hands on his body again. "Yes, sure, hiking. Love that", he said awkwardly.

Molly grins. She really loves weddings.

Alive / Part VIII

Word count: 666

Ghost was used to not being able to sleep at night, nightmares and night terrors keeping him awake. But tonight was different. He and Soap settled down on the bed next to each other, laying in comfortable silence. He could feel the heat radiating off Soaps body. Every fiber in him wanted to scoot closer to him, curl up in his side, which he of course didn’t do. Soap was his sergeant, after all, and he didn’t want to give himself the embarrassment of making a move only for Soap not to feel the same. (Ghost is an oblivious idiot).

Ghost hated the feeling of fabric on his skin at night, at base he usually slept only in boxers, today opting for joggers, but no shirt. He wiggled on the bed, trying to get comfortable. „No disrespect, lt, but stop squirming around like a worm“, Soap grumbled, already half asleep. Ghost didn’t say anything, laying down on the side facing Soap, who was facing towards the window.

It took while for him to fall asleep, but for the first time in a long while he slept through the night, no nightmares violently ripping him out of sleep. He woke up to the sound of birds chirping, slowly opening his eyes to see Soaps side empty. He was still sleepy, taking a few sips of water form the nightstand before rolling onto his back with his arms under his head, staring at the ceiling.

The door opened, and Soap stepped back into the room, dressed in boxer shorts and an oversized shirt. He sat down on the bed next to Ghost. „Morning, lt“. Ghost closed his eyes. „Morning, Johnny“. A few moments of silence passed, before he felt a warm hand on his side. His breath hitched and he opened his eyes. Soaps gaze was focused on the skin beneath his fingers, fingertips slightly grazing over a big scar, caressing the raised, silver skin. It burned, but oh God, did it burn good.

„How’d you get this?“, Soap asked, genuine curiosity on his face. Memories flashed in front of Ghosts eyes and he gulped. „Uh, I got captured. Cartel. They hung me up on a hook“, he mumbled. „Must’ve hurt a bitch“ Soap gently rubbed his thumb over the scar. Ghost nodded, closing his eyes again, the memory painful. He didn’t want to admit it, but Soaps touch on his scars felt holy.

„Do they hurt?“, Soap asked. Ghost shrugged. „Sometimes. Not all of them. They feel weird when it‘s cold though. And they’re really sensitive“ Soap grinned, continuing to gently caress the scar.

It stopped for a second, before Soaps fingers grazed the skin right above his waistband. Shivers ran over his body as Soap caressed a faint but long scar that went from his side over his v lin down to his crotch.

„And here?“, he asked, his voice low. Ghost took a moment to answer, his thoughts in a haze. „Torture…. They wanted intel“, he smiled weakly. „They didn’t get it“. Soaps gaze was sad. „I‘m so sorry, Si“, he whispered. Before he could say anything, Soap bent down, pressing his lips on the scar. Ghosts mind went blank.

Soaps lips lingered on the scar, before he slowly, very slowly began to tug the waistband down, revealing a small happy trail. He kissed lower and lower, stopping every few seconds to check in with Ghost, who was looking at him with wide eyes, but the bulge in his pants said enough.

Soap grinned before pulling down his joggers completely, his plans obvious. Ghost stared at him, his mind racing. Was this really happening? He felt like he was on fire. Soap liked him too. This was wrong, so wrong. But fuck did it feel good. It had been ages since someone last touched him like this, at least with consent. He had to hold back a whimper when his fingers grazed over the bulge.

A loud voice suddenly boomed through the house. „Boys! Breakfast!“

Alive / Part VII

Word count: 399

Soap wasn't lying when he said his mum could cook. Ghost was glad he had something else than the horrible food from chow hall and MREs. Molly had made a hearty stew with carrots, potatoes and pork (Idk about real scottish stews so this is how my German grandma makes them). Now he and Soap were sitting in the bedroom in a comfortable silence. "'M gonna shower.", Soap announced, trying to pull off his shirt, but wincing. "Need help?", Ghost eyed him. Before Soap could answer, he got up and carefully got the shirt off without hurting him. Once it was, he couldn't help but stare a bit. He'd seen Soap shirtless, and naked, countless times, but this was different than neonlit communal showers. "Like what yer seeing?", Soap grinned. Ghost rolled his eyes. "Quiet". He looked at the bandage. "I'll change that when you're done. Don't use all the hot water" While Soap was in the shower, Ghost slowly started putting away his clothes, then stepping outside on the balcony. He had a beautiful view on the area, the sun starting to set and casting golden light on the fields. "I love sunsets", Soap appeared next to him, towel hanging low on his waist. Ghost subtly eyed the dip on his waist and the two prominent veins running along his v line. "Yea, they're beautiful". He cleared his throat. "Now let me take a look at that", he carefully peeled off the water proof bandaid off, exposing the still open wound. "It's healing nicely", he commented, setting Soap down on the bed and taking out gauze and a bandage from his bag. "Hold still", he gently began wrapping it around his shoulder. "Being gentle for me, huh?", Soap teased. "For you always, Johnny", Ghost flicked his ear playfully. After he finished wrapping up the shoulder, he helped Soap into his shirt and went showering himself. When he stepped inside the bedroom, Soap was sprawled on the bed, scrolling through his phone. "Yer beautiful, lt", he grinned. Ghost flipped him off before settling down on the bed. "Shut up". Soap scooted over a bit. "Make me" Ghost shot a warning glare towards him. "Don't tempt me, Johnny. You'll bite off more than you can chew" Soap snickered. "Oh I promise you I have enough space in my mouth". Ghost let out a groan. "Go to sleep, sargeant." "Yes sir"

Alive / Part VI

Note: I have no idea about Soaps family in canon, so this is all what I hc it. Word count: 546

When Soap had said that his family had a farm, Ghost didn't expect this. It was a giant area in the middle of the highlands, wide paddocks, fluffy sheep and green trees. According to Soap a rocky beach was only five minutes from there. As soon as Ghosts old pick up truck pulled in the drive way, they were swarmed by Soaps mum, Molly, a small, middle aged woman with rosy cheeks and a flour covered yellow apron, who pulled her son into a tight hug. "Ma wee baby!", she exclaimed, pressing a kiss on his forehead before looking at Ghost and extending her hand. "Simon, ah take it?", her smile was big and genuine, apparently not minding the black surgical mask. "Yes, ma'am", he shook her hand, not able to resist a small smile himself. She shushed them inside, and Ghost felt a bit misplaced in the comfy kitchen, where a middled aged man, a woman and a man, each with a toddler in their arms sat on bar stools at the aisle. They were all so... lively. Big smiles on their faces, seemingly unbothered by the 6'2, completely dressed in black and rather intimidating figure in their house. "S'nice to finally meet ya, lad", Soaps dad, Callum, said, firmly shaking his hand. "Y' too". He glanced over to the other man and woman, judging from the likeliness, the woman was Soaps sister, Isla, the man then must be her husband Alec. They both smiled at him. Isla pointed to the little girl in her arms, introducing her as Ailsa, the boy in her husbands grasp as Archie. The urge to hold them suddenly overcame Ghost, scaring him a little. He hadn't felt that since Tommy was the same age as them. The interaction was awkward in itself, but strangely not unpleasant. Ghost knew none of them , yet they seemed to accept him without question or complaint. Didn't ask questions about the mask or his work, just simple small talk, which didn't feel pressured or forced. It seemed like the warmth he knew from Soap ran in the family. "I got yer room ready", Molly interrupted his thoughts, Soap loudly joking with his niece and nephew in the background. "Since Isla and Alec are here too, you'll have to share a room with John", she winked. "Shouldn't be a problem, I hope?" Ghost looked at her for a moment longer than necessary. "Er, no, that won't be a problem, thank you", he hurried to say. Molly grinned. "John! Show Simon around, won't ya? I have to get dinner ready", she patted Ghosts shoulder before getting to work on the cooking aisle. "Yes, ma'am", Soap picked up his bag, wincing slightly, his shoulder still sore. "Give me that", Ghost mumbled and quickly pulled the bag up, letting Soap lead the way up the stairs to a room on the western side of the cottage. It was a small room, but cozy. Old wooden floor, floral wallpaper on the walls, a big window with a small balcony and plants all over the room. And one king sized bed. Ghost didn't know whether he should be happy or nervous. (Molly ships them. She could've put an extra mattress in the room, but then again, she loves weddings)

This is how I imagine their farm to look like. Sorry if I accidentally posted you house

Alive / Part V

Note: Soooo, quick disclaimer. I hc that Soap was grazed by the bullet on the left side of his head, and also shot in the left shoulder. I'm not a doctor, so there will be medical inaccuracies. Word count: 332

One and a half weeks later, Soap was finally discharged from the military hospital (He begged the nurses to let him go). Price had placed him on sick leave. "Where're you gonna go now, Johnny?", Ghost leaned on the doorframe of Soaps room, watching as the other man struggled to pack his stuff with his arm in a sling. "Fucking shite. Home, Ghosty. See my family again", he, unsuccessfully, tried folding his shirt with only one arm. Ghost rolled his eyes and stepped towards him. "Can't watch that", he mumbled before sitting down next to Soap and starting to fold his shirts. "D'you only have compression shirts?", he eyed his shirts. Soap shrugged, immediately wincing. "Brings out the muscles, you know?", he winked. "I s'pose...", Ghost couldn't keep himself from staring at said muscles a second too long. "Like what you see?", Soap eyed the lieutenant, grinning. "Shut up before I make you." "Tempting." They continued folding and packing in silence for a few minutes, Ghost occasionally on Soaps rather interesting shirt prints. "Aren't you on leave now too?", Soap asked. "Yea", Ghost put the last shirt in the bag. "Why?". He shot Soap a suspicious glance. "Y' could come with me. Doubt you got better plans". Ghost stilled. "I- I don't think that's a good idea." "Why?" He sighed. "I don't- I don't want to scare your family. Or put them in any danger." Soap chuckled lowly. "My family is Scottish, a little skull mask ain't gonna scare them. And as for the danger, again, we're Scots. We've dealt with worse. Besides, we got a farm, in the highlands. You can run around all ye want, don't have to talk, just be there." Ghost sighed. "I don't know, Johnny". "Why not? Or are ye so keen on staying here in the dirty barracks for two weeks?", Soap gave him puppy eyes. "Please, Simon" Ghost rolled his eyes. "Don't Simon me." He got up and flicked Soaps ear. "I'll think about it."

This is the shirt Ghost likes the most

Guys. Folks. How many parts for Alive do ya'll want? I'm tryna figure out when they're gonna stop pining like two idiots and finally get it going

Alive / Part IV

Word count: 359

Soap was asleep when Ghost entered his room a few days later. Ghost didn't mind, weirdly. He put the book on the nightstand (The remnant chronicles, first book) and sat down on the chair next to the bed. After about five minutes of him scrolling through his phone, a quiet huffing came from the bed. He set his phone down, watching Soap. His chest was rising steadily, eyes closed. Ghosts eyes took in his features, long lashes, soft lips, a light stubble. But what caught his attention was his clenching fists. The bed sheet was tangled between his fingers, muscles in his forearms tensing. Ghost looked closer. Soaps eyes started to dart around under his eyelids, his lips parted and his heart rate spiked up. "No, no no nono.... please don't....", the words that fell from Soaps lips were quiet and hoarse. Ghost leaned forward, eyes fixed on his strained face. Carefully he raised his hand, not knowing what to do. "It hurts, please... Make it stop... Please..." Soaps words were like a knife twisting in his heart. He wished he could take his pain. "No! Don't touch me!", that was it. Ghost couldn't take it anymore, and hesitantely put his hand on Soaps chest, feeling his racing heart beat. Soaps eyes flew open, narrowing on Ghost. He started thrashing, trying to push him away. "No, please!" Ghost grabbed his wrists, pinning them down on the bed. "Johnny, it's me. Simon. Look at me" Soaps resistance grew weaker, but he still seemed distressed. Tears streamed down his face. "Shh, love. It's alright, you're safe. I'm here.", he took Soaps jaw in his hand, forcing him to look at him. "Eyes on me, Johnny" Soaps gaze focused, finally. "Simon" Ghost released his wrists, setting down on the bed next to him. Soaps chest was heaving, is heart still racing. He grabbed his head, slightly wincing in pain. "Y' alright?" Soap nodded. "I was scared", he whispered. "It felt so real" Ghost grabbed a tissue, gently wiping the tears off Soaps face. "I know" He settled next to Soap on the bed, his hands on his chest. "'M 'ere. You're safe"

Alive / Part lll

Word count: 486

The next few weeks went by agonisingly slow. While the others were training, Soap had to stay in bed. Even if he were allowed to get out, he couldn't. The damage done to his brain impacted his balance, coordination and speech. He already dreaded the months, maybe even years of physical therapy needed.

The only good thing in this whole shit show was Ghost. He came every day around 1700 (5pm for the Americans). Soap tried to hide his excitement when he heard the heavy footsteps approach his door, but it worked poorly. He told himself it was just because he was glad about any distraction, even though his heart didn't beat so fast that the machine started beeping every time Gaz or Price came over.

The conversations with Ghost were nice. Other than the first time when he woke up, the lieutenant wasn't weirdly nervous. Since Soap didn't have much to tell other than that his nurse painted her nails blue, Ghost was usually the one to talk. He told him about training, mostly. How Gaz managed to land face first while fast roping, or how Price was heard screeching like an eagle when a mouse wormed its way into his rucksack. (He still denies it, claiming it was a bird). They talked about the most mundane and sometimes, quite frankly, most boring things. How yesterday in chow hall, they had chilli con carne but without chilli and without carne. But Soap is thankful for every minute he gets to spend with Ghost. Even if they run out of things to talk about, it is a comfortable silence. Ghost brings Soap books, and since his eyes and head start hurting after a while, he reads them to him. If only Soap could focus on the actual story and not how Ghosts lips move behind the mask, how his deep voice grows calm and soothing. He wished he could raise his hand and cup Ghosts jaw, gently tracing his bottom lip.

"Johnny? Y' listening?", Ghosts eyes looked up at him, deep brown, like the leaves on a chestnut tree in autumn. He was getting distracted again. "Er, ya, m' 'ere, lt", he stuttered. Ghost sighed. "Y' should sleep a bit." He looked at his watch. "''t's 1900 already (7pm). Don't wanna strain that fragile lil head 'f yours.", he grinned under the mask. Soap rolled his eyes playfully. "Ugh, fuck you, Ghost" "Later." He got up and placed the book (Ballad of songbirds and snakes) on the nightstand. "Y' need anything else?". Those damn eyes looked at him again. Soap wished he could live in them. "M' fine. See you 'morrow?" Ghost nodded, winking before closing the door behind him.

Soap sank back in the pillows with a groan. "Bithidh an bastard sin 'n a bhàs dhomh-sa". (That bastard is gonna be the death of me)

He couldn't wait to wait to see him again tomorrow.

General infos

Hey there, my name's Myshka. I'm a gal from the beautiful country of Germany. I'm currently invested in Cod, and will be writing as many fics as I can. If you have any ideas or requests, feel free to send them.

Master list

Alive series: Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI Part XII

Drabbles: Pain (Ghost x Soap) Fluff and theft (141 x reader) Shattered (Ghost x reader) Noch fünf Minuten (König x reader) Nightmares/Part I (Alejandro, Gaz, Ghost, Horangi, König x reader) Royal guard (Ghost x Soap) Gladiators (Ghost x Soap) Nice leave (Horangi x reader) Bloody hands (Ghost x Soap) Sleepless (Ghost x reader)

Alive / Part II

Word count: 377

The air was filled with the clean, biting smell of antiseptic, the gentle, warm sunlight flooding the room through big windows a stark contrast against the stench.

Despite his tall figure and broad shoulders, he looked ridiculously small and lost next to the hospital bed. It had been two weeks since Soap got shot in the head, and somehow survived. He’d been unconscious since then, hooked up to an array of different machines.

It took Price and Gaz a lot of convincing to get him to at least go back to his room to change out of his blood stained clothes. He didn’t want to leave Soap alone. He’d already lost him once, and he’d fight God bare handed if anyone tried to take him away again.

Watching the now in bandages wrapped Soap was a monotonous task, but there was nowhere he’d rather be. The doctors said he’d wake up any time now, and Simon would be damned if he wasn’t there when he did.

His head lied on the bed, gaze fixed onto Soaps still face. He slowly started to drift off, eyelids heavy. Suddenly, the muscles of Soaps thigh flexed under his head. Simon was wide awake in a split second. His eyes searched for a sign of consciousness in his face, finding his brows slightly furrowed and eyes carefully blinking.

„W-what- happened?“, his voice was hoarse and croaky, glancing through the room without focus. „You, uh, got shot. In the head“, he said, a sudden nervousness overcoming him. A shocked expression flashed across Soaps face. „Oh“. Simon fumbled with the string of his hoodie. „Do you need something?“ Soap nodded, and pointed to a water bottle on the nightstand. Simon grabbed the bottle, opening it and handing it to him. Soaps hands were weak and shaky, struggling to grasp the bottle. “Wait, I’ll help ya“, Simon mumbled, tilting the bottle so he could drink. He wiped the water around his mouth off with a napkin, eyes fixed on the pink slightly parted lips.

The door opened, a nurse stepped into the room, making his way towards Soap. The urge to flee, to run away overcame him. „I‘ll, uh, leave ya to it, then“, he stuttered, leaving the room before Soap could say anything.

Alive / Part I

Word count: 244 Simon firmly believed that regret was one of the most painful things someone could experience. It set his body ablaze, burned through his skin and into his bones.

The few seconds it took to run over Soaps limp, unconscious body, all of the things he wanted to say flung through his head like shrapnel from a bomb, boring their sharp edges into his mind.

He knelt down next to him, shaking hands desperately trying to find a pulse. There was none.

„I‘m sorry, Johnny. I‘m so sorry.“, his voice strained with shock and despair. „I love you. I need you. Please don‘t die, please.“ The black fabric of his mask was wet with tears.

Through the painful ringing in his ears, he could hear Price order a medevac over comms.

He held him in his arms until evac arrived. Softly cradling his head, silently praying for those storm blue eyes to open again.

His fingers rested on his pulse the entire time, trying to conjure up a faint rhythm, even though he knew that it would not come.

His forehead rested against Soap‘s, nobody daring to pull him away. Suddenly, there was something. A weak, light throb under his gloved fingertip. His head jerked up, eyes wide with a mixture between hope and despair.

Hastily, he pulled the glove off his hand, pressing his finger into Soap‘s neck. There it was again. A pulse. Weak and unsteady, but it was there.

Johnny was alive.

Pain

Word count: 422

He thought he knew what pain was.

God knows he had experienced enough of it. Whether it be physical or psychological pain, it was as if the universe decided that there must be one person who'd be destined to collect all the different types of pain and suffering like other people collect stamps.

But the pain he felt the second he saw the bullet hammer into Soaps head, life slipping out of his eyes in the fraction of a second was nothing he'd ever known before.

In the second it took for Soap, Johnny, to fall to the ground, a vivid image flashed through his mind. Not of the things that were, but of those that could've been. Their eyes locked onto each other, hands entertwined, lips pressed against the other's. A ring on his finger.

The amount of regret that filled his body was unbearable, it felt like flames burning through his skin and into his bones. He regretted so much. Things he never dared to say or do, out of fear of allowing himself to feel again, feel vulnerable for loving someone. It seemed so foolishly insignificant now. He'd do and give anything to hear that stupid scottish accent and see that stupid smug grin again. To get a chance of telling him what he meant to him. That he was the only good thing he had. That he had a reason to return from his missions.

That he loved him.

But now, it was too late. He wanted to rip the skin off his bones in despair.

His body was on autopilot as he made his way towards Soap, the black fabric of his mask wet with tears. "Johnny!", he yelled, voice straining, trying to contain the raging sea of emotions that flooded every fiber of his being.

He held him in his arms, and for the first time in a long while, he screamed out in his mind to God, pleading, begging for a pulse. For a shaky, unsteady breath. For his Johnny.

But nothing came.

The highlands were as beautiful as Johnny always said. The sunset bathed the landscape in a golden light. As they poured Johnnys ashes from the cliff, letting the wind carry it away, his mask was soaked with tears.

The one thing he wanted, craved, the only man he ever loved, was reduced to nothing more than ashes.

It cost him every ounce of self restraint not to throw himself after those ashes.

What was his life worth, if Johnny wasn't in it?

Litter#3 03-06-25

The parents!

_______________________________________

Ghost soap

The cubs!

_______________________________________

This is the only boy in the litter, and he looks exactly like Soap!

This one is a female looking more like Ghost.

This last one is also a female who just has a lighter shade on her paws but still has the same marking as Soap.

Oh boy...

Farah is here, and she is absolutely beautiful!

Ghost and Soap had their second litter of cubs

This one looks like Ghost just with a lighter coat

This one looks exactly like soap, maybe a little darker

Ghost

Price

Their son Asphalt

Crow is all grown up!

Crow is the daughter of Simon 'Ghost' Riley and John 'Soap' MacTavish.

Ghost

Soap

Their daughter Crow

Task Force 141 so far...

Captain Price

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Garry 'Roach' Sanders

The TIME I’VE SPEND DREAMING OF THIS—-

worth the wait 💒 ✨