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two-tonne weight around my chest by Mikes_on_prometheus
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
01 Apr 2023
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Ghost is forced to relive his trauma, trapped under rubble.
The remaining members of Task Force 141 are left to pick up the pieces. -
The Screaming, Heaving, Fuckery of the World by octopiys
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
17 Jan 2023
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We die in the dark, so that others may continue to live in the light.
The 141 had a mission to complete, and God would fall before they failed.
Inspired by my comment on @chaotic_disaster's tiktok, "Seen so many fics where soap always self sacrifices I wanna see one where its ghost please if I don't find it then ill write it myself this is a threa-"
(Currently being edited 1/21)
(-added details, and connections and stuff I forgot bcus????)Series
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“You look like a fuckin’ idiot with those on indoors, you know.”
“You were the one complaining!”
“You were the one that looked sick!”
“Captain,” Ghost sighed, and Soap imagined that behind the glasses, he was rolling his eyes. “I’m not sick. And if I was, I wouldn’t’ve waited two hours before wheels up to say something about it.”
Ghost pushes himself a little too far, and passes out in MacTavish’s office after a mission successfully completed. MacTavish has a soft spot for him, and helps him get better.
(or— a completely self indulgent sickfic. titles from the poem by mahmoud darwish!)
Series
- Part 1 of yours to keep
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MacTavish is frustrated when Ghost doesn't listen to orders. Ghost is frustrated in turn.
It's a terrifying thing, caring about someone.
Series
- Part 1 of liminal spaces
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Soap gets a little too reckless on the job and Ghost takes out his frustrations on Soap, right there during the mission.
Gaz just happens to be on overwatch.
or: ghost and soap are freaky about each other and gaz has to watch
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"Close now. Remember the rules?" Ghost talks loud to be heard, but his voice rumbles low and deeper through him than the engines and their repetitive noise, an edge there that Soap can’t put his finger on, reminiscent of how he sounds when Price tightens their leash.
"There are no rules," he echoes their earlier conversation, but relents as Ghost narrows his eyes. "Forty-eight hours. I'm late, I fail. I'm caught, I fail. I die to some random animal attack or 'cause I break my ankle, I fail and ye won't come find me. That about it?"
Soap has some things to work out. Ghost is happy to help.
Neither is prepared for just how far they'll go. -
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That’s when Ghost rolls over, and Soap releases his cock instantly — holds his breath and prays to Christ that he’s just shifting in his sleep.
“Hurry up, Sergeant,” Ghost says, voice low and much too near. Soap shivers.
No use pretending he wasn’t getting off when Ghost clearly knows what he was up to.
“Can’t,” he whispers, “‘m not a lefty.”
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Ghost opens his eyes slowly. He barely recalls what he did after — after he left Soap behind, again. Dead silent ride back to base, debriefing, Price’s white-hot anger threatening to boil over, Gaz small and quiet. Washing the grime off, praying to wake up and need to go through it again.
Get another shot. Do better.
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In 2247, humanity discovers the phase, a dimension of altered physics, through the study of black holes. In 2251 a human vessel makes the first successful phase-jump from Earth to Pluto and back. Centuries later humanity has expanded across dozens of star systems, and with the expansion of Earth's influence comes conflict. Part of the Terran Alliance Space Command, short TASC, the crew of the ranger vessel RN-141-R/CH, "Roach", is one of the most famous (and to their enemies, infamous) task forces, dealing with some of the greatest threats the galaxy, and humanity, has to offer.
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Ghost and Soap spend the night in a warzone. Ghost comforts Soap the only way he knows how. They both struggle with their emotions.
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There’s a ghost haunting the 141 common room. At least, Soap is about 80% sure there is, which is, in fairness, realistically about as sure as anyone could reasonably be about spooks haunting their workplace. He’s not stupid, he knows no one else is going to believe him if he brings it up. The scorn if he suddenly starts harping on about ghosties and ghoulies.
None of that negates the fact that there definitely is one though. Probably.
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Soap’s been running his ranch on his own just fine up until now. Uses the occasional ranch hand when needs must but mostly just puts in the work so he doesn’t have to bother with them. Except now the most beautiful beta he’s ever seen has waltzed into his life and asked for a job, and God help him Soap’s given him one.
Ghost needs somewhere to lie low for a while, somewhere out of town where it’s unlikely anyone will recognise him from the wanted posters springing up all over town. Just his luck that the ranch owner is the kind of alpha dreams are made of, especially when he really can’t afford to be getting tangled up with anyone.
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There’s no explanation for it, at least not one he’s willing to acknowledge, why Soap’s blood smells so much better than anyone and everyone else Ghost has ever met. Has since the moment he walked onto base. Was probably the driving force behind Ghost finally caving and allowing Johnny to cultivate the fragile friendship that exists between them.
If in his weaker moments Simon has sometimes wished that it could extend beyond friendship, stray into a slightly riskier territory of fraternisation and feelings, well, that’s nobody’s business but his, and he doesn’t intend to inspect it too closely.
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Soap is straight. He’s very comfortable with that, no reason not to be, his virginity is just a fluke, he’s just never met a girl who he felt that kind of connection with. So he’s straight, and he’s a virgin, and presumably one day he’ll meet a woman who makes his heart flutter and his cock swell and he’ll finally pop his cherry.
That’s not exactly how it happens.
Instead, he meets Ghost.
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“C’mon Johnny, think warm thoughts for me, yeah?” Soap answers with a loud chattering of his teeth as Ghost pulls back the covers and slides him under them. He spends the next several minutes searching the cabin for every possible blanket or spare scrap of fabric to pile on top of Soap.
Ghost shifts, the huge wolf climbing into the bed by Soap's side. Soap threads his fingers through the fur of Ghost’s neck, pulls him close and buries his face into Ghost’s coat. Ghost shuffles closer, presses them together firmly and suppresses a shiver of cold when Soap’s cold skin aligns with him.
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Ghost takes one proper look at the detective through his scope and feels his heart jump in his chest. Even with his face twisted in rage he’s the most perfect alpha Ghost has ever seen. His hair is ridiculous, the mohawk completely incongruous with his position with Scotland bloody Yard, yet the way he’s commanding the men tells Ghost he’s clearly in charge of this scene. He’s good then, very good if he’s got this assignment; The Met has been chasing Ghost for years and they’ve never even got close. He’s pretty, so damned pretty and radiates alpha energy so intense that Ghost is certain that’s his designation.
For the first time in a decade Ghost’s omega perks up. A rumble pushes out of his chest and Ghost realises with a start that he’s purring.
Time to fucking go.
He disassembles his rifle with far less care than usual, throws everything into his bag and does one last sweep of the rooftop he’s been lying on. No trace. With a final glance down at the detective, who’s now ordering the scene to be closed off and tented, Ghost shoulders his rifle and vanishes back into the bustling streets of London.
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“Why are you hovering?” Soap snaps at Gaz one particularly bad evening.
Gaz shrugs at him sadly, pityingly, “Because he asked me to.” Soap doesn’t know what the fuck that’s supposed to mean but he knows he doesn’t like it.
On Sunday Price summons them both into his office and delivers the only news he can: Ghost isn't dead yet. Not yet. The words echo around Soap’s head like gunfire. He’s lost men before, lost friends and officers before, it's part of the job. He doesn’t know why this time is affecting him so deeply. 'You do know.' His mind screams at him. 'You know why you can’t bear to lose him.'
Soap takes long pulls from the bourbon bottle that night hoping for a dreamless sleep, instead for the next seven hours he pictures nut brown eyes and white bone.
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09 x 22 Crossover
Soap has been silently pining after Ghost for a while, but thinks the feeling isn't mutual. When he catches Ghost with Captain MacTavish, he can't help but watch and is caught by Riley.
Series
- Part 1 of 09x22 SoapGhost
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“Ghost?”
“Soap.” Ghost’s voice was a low buzz, gravelly with static. In the absolute silence of the snow-covered forest, it sounded both deafeningly loud and intimately quiet.
“What’s your favourite season?” Soap asked.
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Four seasons, five countries, six months.
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A Dream That Keeps Waking Me by Sillililli for amongthebooks
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
16 Feb 2024
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The 141 gets split in half, and the half left in the freezing woods has to find shelter or die trying. Injured Ghost thinks maybe it is a good time to let the tomb that's been chasing him take him, but Johnny disagrees. He does his best to care for Simon despite the danger of drawing attention to themselves.
There is a lot between them that hasn't been confessed and they both sit and hope for the chance to leave together so they can finally say it.