#ghoap mostly implied

[maxissupercool]

“Soap doesn’t have a thought behind his eyes” well i raise you that he just has autism eyes. that man is thinking, it’s just about explosives and his boyfriend(s).

[moody-alcoholic]

✨Freaky Friday✨

This Friday I’m trying✨sex pollen✨but with aftercare because I need some fluffy aftercare after some filthy fucking porn. Honestly I feel like every week these manage to get away from me and become bigger then I intend, but this one really got away from me.

Ghoap x fem!reader, established relationship, sex pollen. WC: 4.6k

CW: +18 content MDNI. Mild dubcon cos sex pollen but relationship is established and consent is implied, sex, PiV sex, fingering, handjob, little bit of dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, squrting.

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

____

The whole mission was a bust from the start. Johnny knew that Simon knew that and Price fucking knew but he sent them in anyway. Now they’re stuck on a desolate island and you’re injured. They managed to make it to the safehouse. Well safehouse is a loose term, the whole place is only 2 rooms big, living room with a tiny kitchen shoved in the corner and one bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. 

Simon has been busy updating Price while Johnny didn’t want to leave your side. They found you unconscious in the lab, before they could call for medevac a storm rolled in and the only option they had was to go back to the house. At least the island is mostly abandoned, with the hostiles they killed at the compound and the storm the hope is they’ll be left alone for the night. Johnny hears Simon come out of the bedroom behind him.

"Her fever’s not going down." He says replacing the damp cloth on your head. As if on cue there's another clap of thunder.

"Evac's not going to be coming till the storm clears." Simon says.

"It's that bad?" Johnny asks looking out the window, he can see the trees violently swaying in the gale force winds. He looks back down at you, your clothes are drenched in sweat. "How long?"

"Best case, a couple of hours. Worst case not till tomorrow." Simon says, starting to take his vest off. "How is she?"

"I don't know, she's got a fever. Does Laswell know anything?" Johnny asks, looking back at Simon.

"She's looking into it, could be anything." He says, Johnny can hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“What if she dies?” Johnny asks, he hears Simon hesitate before letting out a sigh.

“She’s not going to die.” He replies with a flat tone. Johnny doesn’t believe him, standing up and turning to look at him. 

“We have no idea what she was exposed to. What if she’s dying right now and there’s nothing we can do about it?” He asks, Simon lets out another sigh as he finishes taking his gloves off. 

“She’s breathing ain’t she?” He asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Got a pulse?” Simon asks, raising an eyebrow. Johnny nods. 

“Then she’s alive. As soon as we get out here we’ll get her to a medic.” Simon says, he looks past Johnny quickly to see you shifting on the sofa. He reaches over resting his hand on Johnny's shoulder. 

“It's going to be okay Johnny.” He says, giving him a reassuring squeeze and a quick kiss on the forehead. Johnny nods, turning to go back to you. 

…

Johnny is sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa. He’s by your head listening to your breathing, and for the last few minutes unintelligible mumbling. He just switched the flannel on your forehead, whatever fever is ripping through your body has made your skin feel like it’s been freshly sunburnt. 

Suddenly your hand moves and runs up the back of his neck he shivers, turning to look at you now with your eyes open. There's another clap of thunder that makes you jump, Johnny spins round kneeling by your face. 

“You’re okay lass, we’re at the safehouse.” He says, you don’t look right through. You’re looking at him but it’s like you’re not quite there. One of your hands comes to his face and your pupils dilate, suddenly you groan arching your back and thrusting one of your hands down the front of your pants. 

Johnny reaches down to grip your hand and pull it out. It causes you to thrash and cry out. 

“Easy, lass.” Johnny says confused. As soon as you hear him your head snaps over to him. You reach out for him again, this time you grip his face pulling it to yours and attack his mouth. It’s not kissing - well you’re trying to kiss him but it’s too sloppy, too much teeth. 

“Fuck-” You moan in his mouth forcing your tongue past his lips. He tries to shuffle away from you but your hands around his face are like a vice. He reaches out to grip your shoulders when he squeezes them you let his face go for a second. He pushes himself away from the sofa, you try to follow after him flopping onto the floor. 

“Simon!” Johnny calls. He watches as you moan rolling around on the floor clawing at your clothes. He can see the damp spot between your thighs, there’s a smell in the air, coming off you. Something sweet, it makes his mouth fill with saliva. He watches as one of your hands disappears into your pants and you arch your back crying out. 

“What is it?” Simon asks as he comes into the room. 

“I don’t know, she just woke up like this.” Johnny says getting to his feet. You cry out again, your other hand desperately grabbing your breast over your sweat soaked top. “What the hell is going on?” 

“Could be whatever she was exposed to.” 

“What? Like some kind of horny drug?” Johnny asks. Simon hums as they both watch your body twist on the floor. Tears start streaming down your face and you cry out, your toes curl as you cum. Your body relaxes for a few seconds as you pant looking up at the ceiling. You turn and look at Johnny and Simon, your eyes now bloodshot. 

“Please.” You whine, your hand coming off your breast and reaching out for them. Johnny takes a deep breath in and steps forward. Simon’s hand grabs his arm stopping him. 

“She. She’s not in her right mind, Johnny.” Simon says, although he wants to do nothing more than jump on you too. There’s a smell of something sweet in the air, it tickles the back of his nose making his head swim and his cock twitch in his pants. 

“She needs help, she needs us.” Johnny says. Simon looks down at you dragging yourself over to them, calling out to them, your pained voice rings in his ears. He lets go of Johnny's arm, as soon as he makes contact with your skin you throw your body against him. 

“Easy, love. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” Johnny says, picking you up in his arms. Simon gets the idea and heads to the bedroom. As soon as he’s in he pulls the duvet off the bed and before he can stop himself he’s kicking his boots off and pulling his shirt and mask off over his head. 

Johnny can barely keep a hold of you as he places you down on the bed. You turn over reaching for him. “Please, Johnny.” You beg, so you recognise who they are, that's good. 

“How long do you think this will last?” Johnny asks, pulling your shirt off while you try to reach out to grab the front of his pants.

“No idea, until she’s exhausted? A few hours?” Simon says looking over at Johnny taking his clothes off. 

“That fuckin’ smell.” Johnny says, taking in a deep breath before gripping your wrists and pulling them off him. “Think we’ll get compromised too?” 

“Doubt it, if it was going to happen it would have happened when we found her, or at least before now.” Simon says, he’s not sure how true that is and there's no denying the scent protruding off you is not helping their situation. Simon pushes it to the back of his mind walking round the double bed and pulling you so you’re lying on your back. 

Your shirt is off, he grips the waistband of your bottoms and pulls the rest of your clothes off, throwing the sodden garments on the floor. You’re still trying to get at Johnny - who’s fully naked now - your eyes fixated on his hard cock, he runs his hand over the tip pulling the foreskin back before taking a step up to the bed. 

You’re rubbing your legs together, your free hand playing with one of your nipples. Simon rests his hand on your stomach and your eyes snap up to him, your pupils are almost completely blown out. 

“Simon. Please, I need it.” Your hand goes straight to your clit and you arch your back. Your whines and moans make Simon’s head spin, his cock twitches uncomfortably in his boxers. Johnny's hand comes to your face, his thumbs brush tears escaping from your eyes.

Simon reaches down to the fingers on your clit replacing yours with his. He presses down on your abdomen forcing you to lay flat as you squirm under him. “Please. Fingers.” Your words are breathless, slurring out your mouth between pants. Johnny looks up at Simon. 

“Go on then. Give her what she wants.” Simon raises an eyebrow, he can hear a shake in Johnny’s voice but he ignores it pressing his hand down past your clit between your folds. You’re wet, so wet - juices pooling out of you and onto the bed. He coats his fingers in it, it’s thicker then he’s used to, your body shudders and you spread your legs as his fingers tease your entrance. 

“Simon, please.” You cry, he doesn’t wait any longer pressing two fingers inside you. You cry out bending your legs and curling your toes. Simon curls his fingers up pressing on your g-spot, the instant he does you cum. You clench around his fingers, almost screaming as more slick gushes out of you and your body goes limp. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon hears Johnny say, then he hears him reach down to kiss you. Your moans become muffled and the sound of lips smacking together fills the room. Simon doesn’t stop, dragging his fingers in and out of you, slapping his palm against your clit with each thrust.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You pant as Johnny breaks from the kiss, your hands are occupied with your breasts and Johnny moves round to the end of the bed with Simon. 

“Want to go first?” He asks, there’s a cheeky grin on his face. Simon looks over at your head tipped back in the pillows. 

“All yours.” Simon says taking his fingers out of you which is met with a pained cry that makes his head ring. As Johnny arranges himself between your legs Simon reaches over to grab a pillow. 

“Pick her hips up.” He says to Johnny who nods, gripping your waist and pulling your hips up. Simon places the pillow under your lower back. You don’t stop whining and squirming though, your hands playing with your nipples wiggling your hips like you’re trying to search Johnny out. 

As soon as he gets himself comfy and lines his tip with your entrance, you stop moving. Simon looks over at you, your head propped up looking at them both. There's a desperate look on your face, your mouth is tipped open but the only sounds coming out are your breathless pants. Johnny hesitates for a second.

“Johnny, please.” You beg, your lip quivers. You’re desperate, desperate for them. It does something to Simon’s brain hearing you beg and moan for them. Johnny lets out a breath as he presses into you and you throw your head back against the pillows. 

“Jesusfuckingchrist.” Johnny babbles as he slowly starts to thrust. You moan, closing your eyes as you try to arch your back. Simon keeps you pressed down so you’re not slipping off Johnny’s cock, not that it matters anyway since you wrap your legs around his back. 

Simon can’t help himself, he runs his hand up Johnny’s back gripping the back of his neck. Johnny tips his head back into Simon’s hand. 

“You gonna make yourself useful?” Johnny asks, sounding as breathless as you. Simon smiles, pressing a kiss on his shoulder before letting his other hand travel to your clit. You cry out again pinching your nipples and pulling your breasts up. Johnny stops and leans over you, planting his hands by your head. 

Simon moves his hand, already coated in your slick. Johnny’s mouth is pressed on yours again he kisses you through the orgasm as you squirm under him. Your legs have fallen from around his back. Simon takes the opportunity to get behind Johnny letting his hand slip down his lower back before pressing his wet fingers against Johnny’s hole. 

“Easy Si.” Johnny says, breaking from the kiss, it makes Simon laugh darkly. Watching you and Johnny fall apart like this does something to him. He shuffles in the bed without moving his hand reaching down into his boxers with the other to pull his cock out. 

“Fuck Si-” Johnny says still laid on top of you. 

“What did you cum already?” Simon asks as there's another crack of thunder. He already knows the answer, letting out a little scoff before pressing his fingers into Johnny. 

"C'mon Johnny you can give her one more." Simon says, his fingers curling up in Johnny's ass. He knows he's not helping but he can't stop himself.

"Ca-can't" Johnny pleads breathlessly.

"Yes you can Johnny." Simon says back, pressing his fingers further into him. "One more, then we switch."

Johnny nods, rearranging himself to be able to speed up his thrusts. Simon looks down at you, can hear you calling for them, begging Johnny to go faster. Whatever drug this is in your system it doesn’t look like you’re going to be slowing down anytime soon.

Johnny speeds up his trusts Simon doesn’t even need to move his hand, Johnny fucks back on him with each buck of his hips. Simon’s other hand gently runs up and down his cock spreading the precum that's been leaking over the past few minutes. Johnny’s thrusts change, his speed increases but he’s more needy. Grunting and clenching around Simon’s fingers, Simon squeezes the base of his cock. 

“You gonna cum love?” Johnny asks, looking down at you. You don’t even let him finish the question before you’re screaming yes and frantically nodding your head. Your fingers left your breasts a few minutes ago and have been clawing at Johnny’s back. Simon can see the red marks but it doesn’t look like you’ve broken the skin. 

You both cry out cuming together Simon fucks Johnny through the orgasm while he waits for him to stop. “Holy shit. That's one hell of a drug.” Johnny says as he moves to sit up. Simon pulls his fingers out helping Johnny sit up and back on his knees, his cock still twitching coated in your slick and cum. 

Johnny leans back against him; they both watch as you force out long breaths, your body limp on the bed. Maybe it’s over? A second later you’re moaning again, your hand traveling down to your clit. Simon pulls Johnny’s head toward him and kisses him, he can taste you on his lips, he lets his tongue run over Johnny’s until another cry from you breaks them apart.

“Lay down.” Simon says pushing Johnny off him who nods and flops down on the bed next to you. Simon takes his spot between your legs. Before he starts he leans over you with one of his hands coming up to your face.  

"Look at you, love." He coos his fingers brushing the stuck hair off your forehead. There is a thin layer of sheen over your burning body. Your hair is stuck to your face, your heart pounding in your chest matching your rapid breathing.

Whatever chemical did this is dangerous. You're so soft and malleable in his hands, he could do whatever he wanted and you wouldn't try and stop him. You're begging for him, pleading for any release, he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s not going to do that to you, Johnny could keep it together, he can too.

He pushes the thought away, hearing you whine, the wet sounds of your fingers in your pussy. You're squirming, reaching out to grip Johnny as he lays on the bed next to you.

"You okay Si?" Johnny asks, he opens his eyes to see you clawing at Johnny's chest with your free hand.

Simon nods, reaching down to move your hand. "Please, please." You beg as he does, he reaches down to line himself up with your entrance. You're so unbelievably wet, it's not natural but it means he slides with you ease.

"Fuck-" Simon breathes as he starts to thrust.

"Fuckin' incredible isnt she." Johnny asks his hands lazily playing with your breasts, your hands run up Johnny's body, never losing contact with his skin. Simon can't respond before you're cuming again, your pussy fluttering around him, it feels like you're trying to suck him in deeper.

His hands dig into your hips moaning with you as he works you through the orgasm. It doesn't satiate you though and a few seconds later your limp body starts to squirm again.

"Christ, yeah, she feels amazing." He admits, he looks down at your bloodshot eyes, tears are streaming down your face. He wants to lean over and brush your tears but Johnny is too busy with his head in your neck leaving marks everywhere. Everything feels different, it's almost like he’s hypnotised by you, the sweet smell and your plump cunt squeezing around him with each thrust. No wonder Johnny came so quickly. 

The warmth of your body and your desperate moans aren't helping. Simon presses his thumb down on your clit causing you to cum around him again. “Fuck.” He breathes closing his eyes as he fucks you hard through the orgasm. This time your whole body is twitching when you’re done, he looks up at your body shaking, Johnny’s mouth is locked around one of your nipples. 

Simon reaches over pulling him off you with an audible pop. You stop shaking and relax into the bed, Simon waits for a few seconds for you to catch your breath before starting to buck his hips again. You still seem as needy as ever, reaching over to run your hands through Johnny’s chest hair, he melts into it leaning over your chest, his hands running up and down your body. 

Simon can see your eyes are less red, your movements slowing but you’re still desperately clawing at Johnny, your hips rocking on the pillow against Simon. Johnny's free hand comes down to your clit, he rubs in time with Simon's thrusts. 

“Christ, you’re making such sweet noises.” Johnny says, your head flicks over to him, you smile and Johnny leans in to kiss you, one of his thumbs brushing over your nipple causing you to squeeze around Simon again. He clenches his jaw slowing down so he doesn’t cum right then and there; watching you make out with Johnny while your hands run over him. 

You tip your head back as Johnny feverishly attacks your neck, he shuffles up the bed allowing you to reach down and grip his cock. As soon as your hand grips it Johnny moans, Simon watches as a bead of precum forms on the tip and you squeeze it out of him before running your hand up and down the shaft. 

Simon closes his eyes for a second letting out a long breath, he doesn’t want to cum yet, he’s enjoying the feel of you too much. He knows he doesn’t have the same stamina as Johnny but he’ll keep going as long as you need. And Johnny doesn’t need to be told what to do he's already bucking his hips into your hand, his cock leaking against your side. 

“Simon!” You call gripping Johnny’s cock as you cum again, Simon feels you pulse around him. Christ. He’s not sure how he’s going to last. 

“Fuck Simon! Please.” Your body starts to shake again and your hand drops from Johnny’s cock. Simon doesn’t stop, fucking you through the overstimulation. A growl rises in his throat and he hooks his arm under one of your legs lifting your hips up kneeling up. 

“Simon, p-please.” You whine, Johnny’s hand comes to your face brushing the tears. 

“Please what?” Simon asks, you look up at him, he waits for you to talk. 

“Don’t stop.” You beg. How is he supposed to ignore such pretty sounds coming out of your mouth, even Johnny's cock twitches against you. 

“That’s it love.” Johnny says, his fingers still rubbing your clit. “Cum for him, for us.” 

It’s enough to send Simon over the edge, his fingers dig into your skin as he spills inside you. A second later you’re cuming too, screaming out while Johnny furiously rubs your clit causing you to squirt all over Simon’s stomach. 

This time the comedown is longer, you whine as Johnny keeps you going through the overstimulation. Your body starts to shake as Simon pulls out of you, a mix of your juices and his cum throbs out of you soaking the bedding below. He strokes his cock letting a warm feeling of satisfaction run through him.

“Switch?” Johnny asks, looking up at him. Simon sighs, relaxing his arms and letting Johnny take his place. It’s going to be a long night. 

____

When you wake your head is throbbing. Something else is throbbing too, your whole lower body. There's a burn between your thighs. You don't have time to worry about that though, you're alone and naked in a bed.

You sit up which just makes your head swim more, looking around it looks like a safehouse. The sun is shining through the curtains, you need to find out where you are. There are clothes thrown around the room, you recognize them. Johnny and Simon must be around here somewhere.

You shuffle to the edge of the bed and swing your legs out, the moment you try to put weight on them they buckle under you and you collapse to the ground letting out a yelp and pulling the duvet with you.

There's a sudden chill in the room, it's freezing, your head is still swimming, you feel like you're hungover. Did you get drunk? You don't remember having anything to drink. The door to the room opens but you're in too much pain to move.

"Hey, love." Johnny says bending down in front of you. He smiles and you smile back. His hands land on your arms and it sends shivers through your whole body. Before you can stop yourself your teeth start to chatter.

"I'll get the shower started." You hear Simon say, you look up at him before he turns to leave into the bathroom.

"What happened?" You ask Johnny letting him help you to your feet. You have to lean heavily against him, each step feels unsteady.

"We got stuck here because of the storm. You got exposed to some kind of chemical at the compound and knocked you out for a few hours.” He explains, you’re trying to listen to him and not trip over your own feet, your whole body hurts. A nice hot shower sounds amazing right now.

"The last thing I remember was going into the lab.” You say. Goosebumps rise on your body, your fingers and lips feel like ice. When you make it into the bathroom Simon has his sleeves rolled up feeling the temperature of the shower. He steps back when he sees you and Johnny transfers you into his arms. 

“Christ you’re freezing.” He says, he sounds concerned, you look up at him. He sighs, pressing a kiss on your forehead, his lips are warm. You can hear Johnny taking his clothes off before he presses up against you. 

“Fuck, yeah you are.” He says guiding you over to the shower. Even when the hot water hits you, you can’t stop shivering. Johnny keeps his arms around you and you’re grateful for the support but after a few minutes your knees are already starting to give way. Johnny keeps you close supporting your body, eventually you can’t stay on your feet and he helps you down to the floor. 

You sit between his legs, his limbs wrapped around you as you lean against his chest, it's like he never wants to let you go. He presses kisses into your neck, on your face and and you let yourself relax against him as the hot water pounds on your back.

"What do you remember?" Johnny asks, you close your eyes trying to think. There are flashes of memories, it feels like they're all in the wrong order. Like they're too far away from you, you can't quite reach them.

"Did we have sex?" You ask, opening your eyes. Johnny hesitates and turns to look at Simon.

"Yeah, a couple of times." Johnny says.

"The chemical you were exposed to was a stimulant, a pretty powerful one it seems." Simon says. You shiver leaning closer to Johnny. Simon reaches over to turn the heat up slightly. 

“I feel exhausted.” You say yawning.

“You might be able to get a few hours' kip. Price is still trying to arrange a heli.” Simon says. You nod pressing your head against Johnny’s chest. 

“If not, you can always sleep on the way back.” Johnny says. You nod yawning again. You feel yourself slowly warming up and Johnny holds you in his arms until you stop shivering. As soon as you start dozing off in his arms he starts to move.

“C’mon love, let's get you to bed.” He says. You don’t fight him, letting him help you to your feet and wrap you in a towel, when you make it out to the bedroom the bed has been stripped. Johnny leaves the room and you sit down on the bed. Your body aches, not just your arms and legs, something deep inside you too. 

“We tried to dry your clothes.” Johnny says coming over with one of their spare shirts and your underwear in his hands. “The rest should be done before we move. It’ll do for now.” You take them out his hands, he sees the unease on his face and comes to sit next to you.

“What happened?” You ask again. Johnny’s hand rubs your thigh.

“The chemical you got exposed to, it made you horny.” He says almost sounding embarrassed. 

“Horny?” You ask, raising an eyebrow, he nods. You do remember bits, you remember Johnny and Simon having sex with you. You remember it feeling good, satisfying like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You rest your hand on top of Johnnys and squeeze it, he turns his hand over and you lace your fingers with his. 

He smiles and you look up at him before leaning in to kiss him. His kiss is soft and grounding the way you love. His other hand comes up to cup your face, rubbing your cheek. He breaks from the kiss first though, you press your forehead against his. 

“I’m safe Johnny. Whatever happened you kept me safe.” You pull back and look in his eyes smiling. “I love you and I wouldn't ask for anything less.” He throws his arms around you squeezing you tight, you can feel his heartbeat. He holds you tight, running his hands up and down your back. 

“I love you too.” He says and breaks from the hug holding your shoulders. He leans in planting a quick kiss on your lips. “No matter what, we’ll always keep you safe.”

“I know.” You smile leaning up against him letting him wrap his arms around you again.

"You should get some sleep. We'll wake you when we need to move." He says after a few seconds of silence.

"Stay." You ask.

He squeezes you tighter. "I'm not going anywhere, love."

...

[rawme-price]

Masterlist :] disclaimer none of these are actual fics, mostly just blurbs or random thoughts. dont comment on grammar or spelling, i dont care :P

Series

reader and her dog riley! (ghost x fem!reader) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

healer!reader (141 x reader)

soap x reader (bullet wound, pt 1) gaz x reader (plus some mild soap, pt 2) ghost x reader (fever + chronic pain, pt 3) price x reader (migraine + joint pain, pt 4) they talk (no pairings, reader reveal, pt 5)

Non Smut

floridian!reader (platonic!ghost x reader) suicide joke (ghoap, angst) hemokinesis (gazghoat, angst) suicide alert dog (no pairings, reader involved, angst) sheep hybrid!ghost (no pairings, mild angst) secret!hybrid reader (no pairings, angst) soaps sister (gaz x reader, fem reader) scientist, meet creation (soap x reader, angst, comfort?) food aggression(ghost x reader, mentions of abuse, hurt/comfort)

Smut

all four together and seperate

when reader is on their period (afab reader x seperate 141) breakfast the morning after (reader x seperate 141) various monster!reader (reader x seperate 141) thrill of the hunt (141!reader x poly!141, pain play.) puppy reader (reader x seperate 141, pup play, pup!reader)

gaz centric

reader with an oral fixation (gaz x reader) tantalus (gaz x reader, vaguely connected to oral fixation reader) bears (price x gaz x nikolai) bitch strap (gaz x reader, sub gaz) rough (gaz x reader, dom gaz) spar (gaz x reader) avian!gaz x oblivious!reader (gaz x reader, reader is human) puppy (gaz x pup!reader, pup play) mer!gaz x researcher!reader (gaz x reader, mild dubcon but its sorted out) movie (gaz x reader, mild dom gaz) sadistic (gaz x reader, sadist dom gaz, masochist sub reader, mentioned past GFs but reader unspecified) first and only (virgin!gaz x virgin!reader) he fingers u lol (gaz x reader) "big boy" (gaz x reader, size kink w/ gaz as bigger) socializing bunny (gaz x bunny hyrbid!reader in relationship, dog hybrid!soap helps with readers heat) vampire!gaz (gaz x reader) vampire!gaz and posessive!reader (gaz x reader, mentioned ghoap) gaz x niks daughter (gaz x reader, fem reader) reader and his captain (price x reader, platonic gaz x reader) scared and horny (gaz x scary!reader, hinted at 141 x reader)

soap centric

bitter (soap x reader) mechanical bull (soap x reader) zipper (soap x reader, reader wears dress) wake up call (141!reader x soap, knife kink?) catholic guilt (soapgaz, angst) zero shame (soap x reader, minor gaz x reader x soap) soap with a kilt (soap x reader, hinted dom soap?) primal (soap x reader) delicious (soap x reader) he wants the strap (soap x reader) want a sip? (soap x reader, PDA??? idk no smut happens but its close) settle down (soap x reader, you unlock his pup kink) forcepupping soap (soap x reader, sub soap dom reader, pup play) ovulation (Bi!soap x Ovulating!reader, afab reader) oral fixation (soap x reader, soap has the fixation) kiss it better (soap x reader, blood kink lowkey) reader and soap jump ghost lol (ghoap x reader) john/johnny (reader x price, soap listens in.) the two dogs (dog hybrid!soap x dog hybrid!reader) his hot friend (implied reader x ghost, platonic soap x reader) artists (platonic soap x reader, hinted at reader x 141. smut for nudity ig) bomb duo! (soap x rat hybrid!reader, teeeechnically afab reader but not specified) "in front of my salad?" (soap x reader, accidental voyeurism??) desperate (soap x reader)

ghost centric

sounding (ghost x reader) weighted blanket (ghost x reader, afab reader) sensitive simon (ghost x reader, vague sub ghost) ghost tries to lead (ghost x reader, sub ghost, dom reader) self worth (ghost x reader, mild hurt/comfort??) broken wrist (141!reader x ghost, background reader x poly!141, pt 2 of thrill of the hunt) fight for love (ghost x reader, sub ghost) violence? fuck yes please. (ghost x reader, sadism? violence kink) size difference (ghost x reader, bottom reader, ghost is bigger) bunny hybrid ghost (ghost x poly!141) reaper (ghost x 141!reader) gun fucking (ghost x reader, afab reader, gun kink) clueless (ghost x reader, fem reader)

price centric

boots (soap x price x gaz, dom price) insatiable reader (price x reader in relationship, reader x 141) "please stop calling me dad" (older!price x younger!reader, fem reader) musk (price x reader, musk kink) attack dog (price x 141!reader, dog symbolism, no pup play) his beloved pups (reader x price x gaz, pup play, pup reader and gaz) boot, reader edition (price x reader, dom price) dominant? (price x reader, sub price, dom reader, reader still bottoms tho) pamper (price x reader, v soft stuff) shibari (price x reader, sub reader, dom price)

if you feel like any of the posts are incorrectly tagged lmk!

important tags:

pup reader < pup play with puppy reader

pup 141 < pup play with any of the 141 being the puppy, does not mean all of them

hybrid reader < reader is a hybrid

hybrid 141 < one or more of the 141 are hybrids

rommy answers < i answer asks

[heavenbarnes]

More weirdo older bf Simon 🙏

this is from the alternate universe!simon where he’s still older bf!simon but a weird old perv 🫶🏼 (implied ghoap at the end)

it’s cold, cold enough that older bf!simon can see his breath.

he can also hear johnny’s teeth rattling, mostly cold but there’s a hint of-

“fuckin’ boring- shite end of the stick”

boredom.

hold up in fuck knows where in the freezing cold with a rifle laid across his thighs listening to johnny whinge his fucking ear off.

“course gaz didnae have t’do this- pretty boy never has t’freeze his bollocks off”

simon gets how shit this is, believe him.

it’s shit that he and johnny have to sit frozen (figuratively and literally) and just wait for the target to appear.

it’s been three days, the fucker isn’t showing.

but what’s worse (because simon argues he has the worse end of that shitty stick) is that he had to up and leave you.

got the call while you were in the shower, he’d barged through the door you could’ve sworn you’d locked and once he got you to stop screaming he’d had to break the news.

“m’off”

“oh, ok- for how long?”

“not sure, a bit”

only hint of a silver lining was the “good luck, be safe” reach around you gave him when he peeled his kit off and joined you in the water.

he really felt like he was beginning to make progress with you.

yes, you still were a little uneasy with his staring problem and yes, he still needed to learn to ask “please” and not just put your hand in his pants.

but you hadn’t left yet.

and to simon? shit, that’s as good as a hand in marriage.

he didn’t even have the pleasure of sitting in silence and missing you- not with that little bastard in his ear.

“can’ye check again, L.t?”

fuck sakes.

reluctantly, simon takes his phone out one of the pockets on his vest because, as much as johnny was doing his nut it-

he just had to know.

he chooses the app that brings up the livestream of cameras around your shared home. does his obligatory check of the outside perimeter, makes sure nobody is taking liberties.

then he begins the hunt.

you’ll be around here somewhere.

room by room, he looks for the shape of you.

“here pretty, pretty”

johnny’s eyes flicker from the horizon to the device in simon’s hands, almost buzzing in excitement.

“come out, come out”

might’ve been the trip down memory lane but it’s more than likely the anticipation, simon was chubbing up in his trousers.

“found you”

johnny all but leapt from his post until he was at simon’s side, eyes drawn to the way you moved around the living room.

as you moved into the view of the other camera, simon’s heart nearly stopped.

you were in his shirt.

“the sight a’that, L.t.”

you were a sight, that’s for sure. perching yourself in the corner of the couch, the two men watched as you scrolled your phone absentmindedly.

one leg outstretched, the other pulled up at the knee.

a rustle of leaves had both men snapping their attention back to their surroundings, keeping a keen ear and eye out before they hurried back to you.

pretty old you.

doing nothing more than reading an article or watching a tiktok or doing- anything.

but you might as well have been stroking yourself right there.

they could’ve claimed it was your bare legs, the way they could imagine you might’ve had no underwear, the curve of your chest under simon’s shirt-

it was no use.

they both knew exactly what it was.

they liked to stare.

liked watching you while you were none the wiser, that at any moment you could start touching yourself and have no idea you had an audience.

the thrill of the chase or whatever they called it.

“cannae believe you’ve got tha’ waiting at home”

“neither can i, mate”

simon watched you sink lower into the couch, silently praying you were reading one of those dirty little stories you liked.

probably weren’t, obedient thing probably saving it all up till he got home to wring it out of you.

he’d have to make do with imagination.

“here, ‘old this”

johnny grumbled but took the phone nonetheless. his eyes stayed fixed on you as he heard the sounds of simon’s belt, rustle of trousers, spitting on hands.

“if i have t’hold this ye’ave to help me oot”

[wormwoodartemisia]

[One of my favourite tropes in all variations: getting rescued, one way or the other - and I really need more people to write about it 😇]

I guess enough of us have probably already made certain experiences with that one kind of guys who simply wouldn't let the issue drop when you tell them that you're not interested, no matter what you say (in decreasing stages of politeness), unless...

{Only this time, we turn the tables a bit. 😏}

Claimed

Sometimes you need to be rescued - and sometimes it's the others…

About 5.2k words

Established Ghoap, civilian afab!Reader; (almost) no specific description (except that Reader has got soft hair that's long enough to run one's fingers through + Reader might appear rather tall at some point, but nothing in detail); no use of y/n

Warning: no smut actually taking place, just some references (mostly implied, intention to have sex); taste of alcohol

[[In case you want some more info: first meeting; aggressive, unrequited flirting: pestering and being a nuisance (when 'no' is interpreted as 'try harder' or simply ignored, but neither by Reader nor Ghost/Soap); fake kiss; What do we think about a threesome {MMF/MFM}?]]

Your original plan was to go out and spend some quality time on your own, focussing on nothing in particular, just floating through your own mind. However, it's one of those nights...

The bar is crowded in a pleasant way. When you enter, you can nontheless still get you favourite spot in the small booth not too far away from the bar counter. The perfect place for treating yourself with your favourite drink and indulging in the typical noises here that let you relax after an ardous week full of work. Normally...

The night is still young, you're in good spirits altogether. On such lazy evenings, you like people-watching, in case someone catches your attention. Then you wouldn't actively listen to their conversations, of course, but discretely observe them a bit, guess their mood and wonder what circumstances brought them here. A good training for staying attentive and creative alike.

Taking a sip from your drink, you casually start scanning the taproom with your eyes, when suddenly you notice a tall, broad figure in black appear from the back of the spacious room and lean against the counter, just a few seats away from you. For the shortest of moments the man takes you in and briefly nods at you in acknowledgement. You have hardly any time to reciprocate his gesture before he turns away again to order two drinks.

Of course you remember this stoic man from several other visits here, outstanding as he is, always looking the same, clad in the darkest colours only, his face covered by a black surgical mask he never takes off fully. He's one of the regulars (even if he's sometimes away for weeks), just like you - but you wouldn't have thought that he’s ever noticed you in here, let alone make it known to you...

In all the past months, you never saw him look your way, not even slightly. He always seemed totally concentrated on the guy he kept company - that boisterous, ever-grinning mohawk with his fiercely piercing blue eyes that winked at you playfully one night when you passed them on your way out to head home. A contagious smile. Handsome man in his extrovert personality, but you don't find his mysterious, calm mate any less attractive, though you haven't seen much of him so far, except his short blond hair, some fair skin and now his dark, steady eyes a few moments ago.

You save his expression in your memory. Definitely something worth remembering.

To be honest, these two are your favourite people to watch.

Together, they take a presence in the room that's unmatched, draws you in, clouds your thoughts, if you allow yourself to go astray. You've never witnessed anything like that before. These two men have captivated you right from the start and it took you some time to put it into words: blowing through the landscapes of your mind, Mohawk is a storm, Mask is its eye... They belong together.

Such a beautiful couple (you're absolutely sure that's what they are, you can’t have misread their interactions), radiant energy, all easy-going, just pure affection, content with and enough for each other, never any drama.

Well, there's always a first time...

When Mask picks up his two drinks, he manages to take two steps back into the direction where he came from before he stops midmotion. Mohawk has just entered the stage of your field of vision, approaching fast from the backroom and stepping at the counter behind his mate. He leans his back against it, sighing audibly. You wouldn't need to be as close to them as you are in order to notice his furrowed brows and the tight line of his lips. It's easy to tell that he’s frustrated - massively so. Slowly Mask turns around, handing Mohawk his drink.

"Well, Johnny, no more damsel in distress, I take it?"

"Ach, haud yer weesht."

You can’t avoid becoming a witness to their talk. Despite the other people around, it’s a quiet evening and their deep voices carry over to you easily, closeby as you are, the tension not to be overheard.

Johnny takes a sip, looks at his partner and rolls his eyes. He's just noticed someone behind his friend. You've never seen him that annoyed: "No second act, please..."

Then you see the beauty beeline towards the two men.

You bet every guy in here would give her 10/10 - and you could readily agree - if not for her flawless outward appearance desperately trying to cover up that one specific look in her eyes, with which she holds her chin up just one bit too high. Though, nine of ten would probably gladly ignore that streak of arrogance (- which you feel so obviously oozing off her in case one is willing to take one closer look - ) if that meant getting a chance to know her better - and her pants.

She's all seductive smiles: "How impolite of you to keep me waiting!", she chirps, addressing both men equally, voice like sugar syrup, sticky, dripping. Used to getting what she wants...

Taking another sip, Johnny doesn't even bother to look at her at this point anymore.

First-row-seat, you can watch the drama unfold.

Mohawk: "We'd rather be alone."

Beauty (flirtatiously): "Now we're getting closer. Just my thought. So we're leaving?"

Black Mask: "You are very welcome to go."

Beauty: "Well, you already get me going, mystery, but I'd love to come as well."

You almost choke on your drink. This woman is terrible, fully ignoring both men clearly pointing out that her attention is unwanted! It has become obvious that she must have already been digging on your two favourites for quite some time, finally even making them change their place...

Yet she doesn't stop: "If you know what I mean."

Mask: "We get it, but we choose to ignore the implication."

Beast: "Ohh, playing hard to get, sweets? I like me some good challenge!"

Mask: "Nice. Then show us how fast you can get away."

Beast: "No problem. I'm off in less than one second if you take my hand."

"I'd rather take yer head", Johnny mumbles, but in contrast to you, she can hear him and grins wickedly: "And I'd give you head willingly, Scotty too Hottie!"

She reaches out to him, but Mask's cold voice actually makes her stop.

"Don't touch him."

Beast chooses to let Mask's words play into her favour: "No need to be jealous, killer."

"Go pick someone else."

You're convinced that he'll finally get through to her, but Beast gets distracted.

"Yeah, pick me, sugar! Anytime!", some random guy in passing by turns to her, immediately posing, showing her his upper arm, flexing his biceps, clearly quite taken with her outward appearance.

"Not now", she dismisses him, noticeably annoyed, but he only shrugs, grinning, before calling back over his shoulder: "Change your mind, lemme know, gorgeous."

Mask: "You should go with him."

She gives that bloke a swift lookover. "Not my type."

"We're nae yer type, either", Johnny points out.

Beast: "Oh, but you are. Love that brogue."

Mask: "Let me rephrase: you are not our type."

Beast: "Don't worry, I can become anybody's type."

She wants to touch him, both of them, badly so, you can tell, from the way her fingers are twitching at her side, but something's holding her back. So she does have a slight idea of boundaries, at least.

"We might nae be interested in women altogether", Johnny states matter-of-factly and has her head snap into his direction again.

"Hot - but you've never had a woman like me before, I promise."

"True. And ah hope we'll never meet one like ye again in future, either."

"You won't. I'm unique - and you really don't wanna miss this one chance, boys. I'll make it worth your while."

Rather worst your while, you think to yourself while you notice their patience wearing thin. It is beyond you why she doesn't take 'no' (all those 'no's') as what it is. It makes you angry, this full display of blunt disrespect, every rejection - in decreasing stages of politeness - just a spur for her to try harder, eagerly pushing an ego that is non-existent...

It's now that Mask furrows his brows and rummages in a pocket of his jeans: "We don't find you attractive at all." On finishing his sentence, he takes a look at what he's holding in his palm now, a silently vibrating mobile phone. He shoots the other man a swift glance: "I'm'a take that call now, Johnny. Make her leave." His tone has changed, laced with finality.

Mohawk straightens, the command initiating a subtle but nontheless visible transformation. He responds to his masked partner with one single firm nod: "Yes, sir."

The mask exits.

Beast was quiet during their exchange but now she's biting her lower lip and turns to Mohawk seductively: "Sexy."

He looks at her, the bright summer sky of his eyes now the cold of the frostiest glacier: "Oan yer bike!", a deep, low rumble.

You can sense that this was his last attempt to give her a decent way out - unfortunately she doesn't take her chance: "I'd rather ride you, handsome."

You know this type of person - man or woman, makes no difference. She won't stop.

Mohawk has just realised this sad fact, too. He breathes out deeply and while his eyes are wearily drifting towards the exit, he grazes your gaze for a split second.

Meanwhile, Beast dares to get closer, the attempt of a huntress, about to reach out and - what? Touch his hips?

It crosses your mind that this insufferable person would have already been removed from the bar had she been a man harassing two women. However, with switched roles (and a beautiful woman being after two broad blokes) nobody (except Mohawk, Mask & you yourself) seems to fathom any fundamental problem...

You can see that this might get ugly (situations easily do with people like Beast) - and since you know how things can be... Your turn.

Ready to avoid the catastrophe...

He doesn’t get the time to say anything, nor does she to lay hand on him. You're faster.

Within one heartbeat you've grabbed your drink and pop up at his side, so much out of nowhere, that you manage to catch Beast by surprise and get her full attention.

You press yourself against Mohawk's side (as unobtrusive as possible under these circumstances) and, by reflex, you guess, his left arm comes to rest around your waist, a pose the two of you have fallen into so naturally, nothing odd about it, no hint of hesitation from either of you.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t act surprised. He simply gets what you're doing here - but Beast doesn’t have a clue.

Showtime...

This is the guise you've chosen to present, and you perform artistically: there's a hint of defeat in your features, a slight hue of regret and a thin-lipped smile pointing downwards, emphasising that you know when a game is over.

You make sure that Beast gets enough time to study your facial expression. Then you donne Mohawk a genuine smile: "OK, honey, you win. I am fucking jealous seeing you flirting with some random woman. You were right, I was wrong. It really pisses me off when you tease her. I need this bad charade to end right now or I’ll forget myself", you notice a spark of mischief in his eyes, "And yes, darling, for the records, you have just won our bet. Happy now?"

Mohawk smirks at you, "Wasnae too painful tae confess now, was it, luv?" and makes you wonder how a grin can be so subtle and triumphant at the same time. You can feel him squeeze your waist in affection.

Now you turn to the other woman: "Really good job, dearie, digging on my man, testing my limits. So, have a nice one and farewell."

You can see the wheels in her head turning.

Does she call your bluff? No, at least not yet.

Doesn't mean it's over, though...

She gives you a calculating look-over, probably wondering why this man would be with you [in general, but especially] when he could have her - but she doesn't voice you're not his league, as some might say. She notices his hand caressing you softly, small gestures that make your acting convincing - the final proof, you think, to make her believe your claim is true.

Yes, "OK, I get it, the two of you belong together", but "but then I won’t let that blond enigma off the hook, for sure!"

Your heart skips a beat.

"Pity", a deep voice chimes in. Neither that woman nor you have noticed the masked man's return, his eyes fixed on Beast. So both of you stare at him when he takes one final step, "I'm all hers as well. Actually", to put his arm around your shoulder and drag your body into his possessively, "we're a throuple."

That poor woman is speechless for a second, blinks, flummoxed. "Throuple?", she repeats, utterly dumbfounded, her voice dripping with doubt.

"Aye, throuple, ye ken?", now Mohawk closes back in on you as well, his hand sliding to the small of your back. His once mischievous smile grows darker as he pulls up one eyebrow and a corner of his mouth, showing teeth, grinning - it's the wolfish way: "We fuck each other relentlessly and live happily ever after, just the three of us."

The blond wolf knows to add an eloquent thought: "With just the right amount of cocks 'n' holes to take care of, one sweet, perfect cunt. Yours not needed."

Her eyes go wide at their crude, blunt proclamation, a behaviour so different from before, but you yourself can’t help the smirk that creeps on your lips. Too much information for her...

Her eyes dart to the upturned corners of your mouth, the way you can hardly conceal your grin gets her suspicious.

However, your own focus finds a reason to shift when at the same time you feel the two men moving you in perfect sync. While Mask's right hand is sliding up from your shoulder to your neck, his left hand is tracing your left arm downwards until his long fingers can intertwine with yours. Using only soft, sweet pressure, he's holding your hands against your hip. Meanwhile, he's turned your body away from facing the other woman so that your back is firmly pressed to his front.

You feel the outlines of his muscular body, too fascinated to do anything else but comply - and why wouldn't you? It's too delightful a moment not to simply bask in - hyperaware of how your handsome 'darling' has also fully turned to you.

He's the counterpart to the man behind you, pressing his chest to your front, radiating heat that directly pools into your core. It comes oh-so naturally for you to place your right arm on his shoulder, your fingers sliding up his neck and into the soft strands of his hair, by instinct. You could swear you hear him faintly moan in pleasure; you can see dark night dawning in the shining sky of his cerulean orbs.

Caught between two predators, you couldn't be a prettier prey for them to play with... They're a sling that grows tighter around you, a closely woven net you don't want to escape.

You just concentrate on the feeling, let it swallow you whole, relishing in the moment, pretty sure you'll never get anything comparable again.

It's a perfect moment - apart from the fact that it’s not real.

However, maybe that's just what's made it all possible for you - no self-doubts, no fear of overstepping or misreading anybody's signs, no fear of rejection - for you won't ever be close to one of these guys, who aren’t into any woman after all. That has been clear to you from the very beginning, undeniably. Maybe it’s the first time you really feel at ease in a situation that could be part of a fantasy (literally your own fantasy!) - and the way they play along (a bit exaggerated in a way, perhaps) does some good to your self-confidence, despite only being a play pretend.

Suddenly you are pushed back over the edge of reality when the reason behind everything disturbs your haunting demon of harmony.

"You do them both?", Beast inquires, voice too shrill.

Don't let her catch you, this was your idea! Play cool!

Your remark sounds casual enough: "Well, yes... Not necessarily at the same time, though..."

"Not necessarily not at the same time", Mask clarifies pointedly, just loud enough for the four of you to hear and he lets his hips roll against the curve of your arse in one smooth motion that holds enough pressure to softly push you forward.

His partner knows how to catch you, perfect timing, by letting his own lower body meet you less than halfway. If you thought the three of you were close before, then you were wrong. Now you definitely feel the outlines of their dicks against your body. The vice their muscular frames create presses a shaky breath out of you that you didn’t know you were holding. It sounds too close to a wanton moan.

Suddenly feeling caught out, you hurry to hide your face from her in the crook of Mohawk's neck, blushing.

"Careful", you whisper into his ear, in a mild shock regarding your reaction to the two men. Mohawk makes you look him in the eye, tenderly thumbing your chin, and grins like a challenge. The way he then gingerly licks his lips makes him look hungry, almost lets you assume he might actually want to try and get a bite of you... What a silly idea for you to have...

Time seems to stretch and leaves your mind in a dizzy state.

"Lucky you." Her comment startles you. Why is she still there?

You sigh. Ultimately, you've put yourself in this situation - which isn't unpleasant in itself, rather the opposite. So don't be shy in the last few metres. Keep playing until the curtain falls...

"Luckiest girl in town", you confirm and mean it, "Can always have my favourite sandwich whenever I want."

You turn your head so you can have it leaning against the cheek of the man behind you, who closes the distance between your faces immediately. He welcomes the gesture like a purring cat and you feel the low sound vibrate in his chest.

Finally Beast truly takes a look at the two men and the woman who has claimed them. She can’t but feel betrayed. Her face turns into an ugly display of her defeat.

She snaps at both men equally: "You could have just told me right from the start that you got a girlfriend."

"Less fun", Mask comments deadpan and doesn't care about how she looks at him, fury raging in her eyes: "Arsehole! Wasting my time like this with your childish games! Grow up!"

How you despise her for her ignorance, for not letting the issue drop at once unless another woman has put a valid claim on the objects of her desire... How you loathe people not accepting 'No' and blaming others...

There is a jet black feeling boiling under your skin like the most Stygian gloom.

Beast is still glaring at the three of you, she might be even waiting for an apology that will never come.

"We're done talking now", your voice is ice crashing on her heated temper.

Mohawk knows a drastic method to underline your words. He turns your face away from her, his warm hand cupping your cheek, and draws you in. For a kiss...

You feel bold, (wrath coursing in your veins because of her) moving your lips as a tribute to all these Hollywood film-kisses you've seen in your life, mimicking passion; no tongues, no such line would be crossed with him. This will stay safe, you assume.

He tastes of whisky - tar notes and peat with tangy crisp seaweed and smoky bacon swirling on the surface, hints of sweet vanilla. Mouth feel is superb, dark and sweet, grounding you.

How long is this imitation of a kiss taking that you can process all these impressions? What's your flavour on his lips?

The woman watches you kissing for an endless moment, but how would you know?

You're focalised on the open-eyed dance of your mouths that you're sharing with this stranger of your dreams, concentrated on keeping up the façade while the two of you are holding each other's gaze, his boyfriend pressing your backside to his own body. What a strange intimacy...

When you feel the man behind you carefully untangle your intertwined fingers to let his hand find its way between Mohawk's and your own body in order to have his wide palm spread below your heart, his other hand wandering up your neck and into your hair, soft strands gliding through his fingers like liquid silk, a pull that's not a pull, you know that the other woman has finally left.

It's time for you to break the kiss, observing the man in front of you, that smug smile spreading on his delicious lips and reaching into his eyes, half-lidded now like those of a well-fed cat. You are preparing for an awkward feeling to set in, but it never comes. Somehow you stay caught in that surreal bubble the three of you have created.

Should you have a bad conscience towards the man in your back for your having indulged in kissing his partner? You decide against this notion. He has no reason to be upset or jealous, has he? You did nothing wrong, only responding to a kiss, not initiating it yourself; somehow it wasn't even a kiss, all just a fake, a game, nothing serious...

Right here, right now, you don't have the slightest idea how right and wrong you are at the very same time...

[Prepare to learn, dearie dove - choices have consequences.]

"Pure dead brilliant, bonnie", Johnny beams, "Tha was the nicest way out of this fucked-up situation. Ta."

Your proud, sly smile replies: "Just couldn't tolerate her disgusting behaviour anymore." Then you shift your weight to prepare for stepping aside in order to give up the formation of your human sandwich, but the man in your back reaches out his left hand, placing it on his partner's biceps.

Your cerulean bliss smiles impishly at the masked man in a way that leaves no question as to their feelings for each other (Beautiful!) and lets the fingers of his right hand come to rest on Mask's lower arm.

Just a gesture of affection among them, for sure, but your attempt of leaving this flat triangle has failed miserably, keeping you caged between the two of them. (Probably for the better since Beast might still be around!) Anyway, why would you complain? So when his two saphires return to you, you add: "I knew I simply had to do something when she was about to get all handsy with you."

He grimaces in repugnance: "Aye, got too close, that one", then he addresses his boyfriend, "Bloody bint was about tae grab ma bahookie, ye ken?"

"English, MacTavish."

You can hear the grin in Mask's deep baritone.

"Sorry, sir", he's not sorry at all, "Let me translate: my arse." He flashes you one of his flawless smiles and a conspiratory wink you bathe in. Their banter is enjoyable!

Grinning, you present your own theory: "I bet she would have even kissed it right on the spot if you had told her to or simply let her..."

The man in front of you says nothing in reply, but you see his eyes flick to your lips. You feel the weight in your back shift when the tall blond leans forward to whisper in your ear, just loud enough for his friend to hear, too: "I think he liked your kiss much better."

Then you feel a soft press against your jaw that confuses you. Has he just put his masked lips on you?

You need to blink several times, clear your throat and reply: "That wasn't... real. Only some sort of film-kiss. No real kiss, you know?"

"It was lips on lips, hen. Half way up tae geez a winch, eh? Sounds much like a kiss tae me."

"Bloody looked like one as well."

"And tasted so, too. Yer such a nice addin tae Scotch whisky, bonnie."

You swallow - speechless, considering the turn this conversation is taking. You want to come up with some witty remark - but you totally lack any clever ideas... You play for time, reaching out to the bar counter, taking a sip from your drink.

You notice the blond's hand close around his own glas. It's only when Mohawk places his right hand on your hip that Mask lets go of the other's arm. To you it’s nothing but coincidence. The only thing you do know is that Mask will now turn his face towards the bar, away from the crowd, before pulling one sling of the mask off from behind his ear to take a good swig of his beer. You watched him do so many times in the past while you were observing the two of them. - Enough of a reprieve for you to sort out and contemplate your feelings.

You convince yourself that you shouldn't read too much into their flirty behaviour. After all, these two men are a gay couple. You will just enjoy yourself. Clearly no reason to get flustered, right? Have fun and flirt back - and let them kiss you if they like. For your part, you liked the kiss(es?) - real or not!

Then the fabric is back in place and Johnny grins at him, a thin-lipped, intense little smile, that suits his half-lidded eyes: "Ah bet she'd taste delicious with tha drink of yers as well, Simon."

The pale man hums in anticipation, a deep, rich sound, promising. "We shall see."

Still trapped between the two them, you turn to Mask as far as possible, attempting a self-confident smile in response: "Now shall we?"

His right hand lands at the nape of your neck, his thumb ghosting soft circles on your skin. "Guess so, sweet'eart. Or do you think we haven't noticed you staring and watching", your eyes go wide and the crinkles growing around his eyes tell you that he’s smiling, "at any occasion, right, Johnny?"

"Aye, very accurate, Si. Studyin us as if it was her job."

Despite the fact that he's talking to the mask (Simon!), Mohawk (Johnny!) is looking at you solely. "Like some spy, gatherin intel or so."

Spy?! Something in his voice makes you believe that this might not entirely be a joke. On the one hand, you're shocked about the fact that - obviously - you are far worse at people-watching than you thought. How embarassing! But on the other hand, it’s such an appealing idea that they think you capable of actually being such femme fatale. Thrilling! (Or worrisome?)

However, ... what would there be to spy about them, anyway? Despite their scars, testimony of various hardships, they'd hardly be some modern James Bonds...

Well, you couldn't care less! This evening is the most exciting thing since... Oh, don't rack your brains, honey!

You bite your lower lip as not to let them see the wide grin that would definitely threaten to appear on your face. "I'm no spy." A soft smile in your voice can be heard unmistakenly as you are about to look down to where your and Johnny's bodies are touching, but, within a split second, Simon's hand reaches around your throat, with the softest of pressures only, and keeps your head tilt up with his index finger.

"Luckily, you're not", Simon's voice, close to your ear, sends a shiver down your spine.

Johnny's words make it whip straight into your core, the promise of an underlying danger: "Good fer ye, lassie, and good fer us. Win/win situation. Rare enough." His hand seems to burn on your hip. And once more your world shrinks down to these two strangers.

Simon's mask touches your earlobe: "Had a bet whether you would take the first step, doll."

"And what a first step tha was, bonnie, placin yerself in my arms, makin me yer man. Sweetest compensation fer me losing." He winks at you conspicously, daringly, but you are still processing their words.

Simon lets go of your throat when you take your drink again. You drain the rest of your glas in one go.

"Finished?", the Scotsman asks, "Then cummoan."

You glance around the taproom. "Have you seen where she went to after she'd left us alone?", you ask.

It's Simon who answers your question. "Left the bar some time ago with her friends."

You nod, relieved immensely, for you wouldn't like her to come across you sitting here all by yourself. "That's good. OK. Have a nice evening then, you two." You try a good-natured smile. It makes you a bit sad that your night together has already come to an abrupt end.

The roguish look Simon and Johnny exchange with each other goes completely unnoticed by you.

Now Mohawk playfully nudges you with his shoulder, slowly, tenderly, as not to really push you away with it. "Wiz talkin tae ye, hen. Had the impression it got pretty obvious that the three of us would be leavin thegether."

This is an unexpected turn...

You stare at the grinning man in front of you, dumbfounded, kind of, speechless.

Could I possibly misinterpret their intention regarding the things to come?

The way Johnny's looking at you makes unmistakenly clear: he means it; however, they won't coax you into anything you wouldn't want - you can decline, put a stop to it, anytime; they themselves wouldn't offer anything they disliked, either. No obligations.

You turn to get a look at the man behind you. He holds your incredulous gaze, unblinking, followed by one single affirmative nod.

This can’t be happening...

Their directness, sincerity, makes your decision an easy one.

Too good to be true...

A playful smile starts to spread on your lips. You only wish your voice sounded firmer when you finally answer. "I'd like that. So what happens now?"

Johnny's palms run up your arms and down again. "Listen, bonnie: ye set the pace. All ye need to ponder about is the timing, eh?"

"The timing?", you ask, slightly confused.

"Aye. Make up yer mind, take a moment tae decide. We've got plenty o' time. Ye can have anything."

You're still no wiser when Johnny addresses his mate as if you weren't there and listening: "Ah'm curious tae see what she will pick. Ah bet she's already gone through every scenario in her head since she started watching us, our wee minx." Simon slowly nods in response. "Got that impression, too."

On your way out, you're comfortably tugged in between the two almost-strangers who have just happened to become your two boyfriends by accident. Johnny’s got his arm around your waist again, a heavy, pleasant reminder, solid warmth, whereas Simon's massive hand is a crisp burn at the back of your neck, alluring autumn on your skin, the phantom of a chill ready to reach under your surface.

The moment the three of you are out of earshot, the masked man helps you to see things clearly, to understand the transition from fantasy to reality:

"So, how do you want us, love? One after the other - or both of us at the same time?"

[pentrologram]

What Normal People Do - 7

You reach a discovery.

warning for one use of the f-slur and implied homophobia (from a minor, unnamed, unfaced character)

it's been three whole weeks... i'm sorry, y'all. at first i was gonna publish this on my birthday, then the sunday after and now it's been two weeks. anyways, hope you enjoy :)

ao3!

ghost/soap/gn!reader (established ghoap)

Something's Happening To Me

Maybe you’ve been sidelined a little.

Johnny has really started to boom with his online endeavours- he started a TikTok account, which he had told you excitedly about a month ago. Mostly, he posts videos about his Etsy shop and how his art process works, but… Well, he’s also Johnny. He’s bright and bubbly and that lures some odd hundred thousand followers to his account- perhaps they didn’t come for his personality, but they sure stayed for it. His following nearly triples when Riley becomes a fixture in his content.

It's good to see Johnny thriving on something he hadn't even considered a possibility not even three months ago. He's enjoying his new community, you can see it, in the way he's always excitedly talking your ears off about new friends and new experiences he's being invited to or planning or participating in or setting up. It's awesome seeing how he gets some recognition at a nearby art museum he sometimes goes to film content at, how the museum has started to carve away time for Johnny to sit in utter silence and just... be. They also let Riley in, which earns them more brownie points.

After a month or so of you tagging along with Johnny’s endeavours, the same museum hosts a sponsorship for Johnny, letting him come in any time he wants in a secluded part of the museum, away from prying eyes. In exchange, the museum gets some of his framed artwork for his own exhibit in the museum. It's a win-win, really, for Johnny and the museum- Johnny and Riley get a good time and his TikTok page grows, and the museum gets basically free publicity and a fresh, cool new artist to bring into their fold.

It works wonderfully for both parties involved and before you know it, other small museums are doing the same- inviting Johnny over to sit down and make content while talking about the exhibits the museum has. Johnny being Johnny makes it hard for the promotional videos to be uninteresting, though, and they only serve to further Johnny’s following.

Summer is rapidly coming to a close and you can tell by the almost violent influx of fairs being held. There are apple fairs, tech fairs, scissors fairs, knitting fairs, sewing fairs, flower fairs- you name it and there's probably a fair for it. The people of Durham are enjoying the good weather before the blunt end of fall drops and makes the trees turn grey and the grass lifeless. 

Johnny gets invited to his fair share of the ‘good-weather-craze’ fairs, and you do too by extension.

He’s invited to make a showing of some of his art or to open a stall to teach random people how to use charcoal properly or even doing face painting for toddlers, once. It's quite enjoyable for you, being able to see Johnny in his natural element and see other people get infected by the magic that is so uniquely Johnny. It feels like you’re passing his pure goodness on.

Seeing Johnny squint his eyes as he leans forward in his plastic folding chair, carefully keeping a squirmy six-year-old still with callused hands as he paints flowers around the kid’s cheekbones inspires a steady thump-thump in your chest, but the feeling is promptly shoved down. Now, nor ever, was a good time.

Simon and you are along for the ride as you watch Johnny bloom before your eyes. He’s talking to a group of admirers animatedly at an outdoor art bazaar while you and Simon enjoy milkshakes from a purple-haired man and his cat.

Simon’s already halfway through his while you’ve just started to lick the whipped cream, and you’re about to tease him when someone walking by bumps into you with a rushed apology. The whipped cream smudges on your chin, making Simon’s brow furrow. He bends down a little to wipe it off of your chin with his finger, before licking it off, startling a barked laugh from you. If you had turned a little, you would’ve seen Johnny staring intently from where he was.

“That’s- oh, my god. That’s disgusting.” You giggle. Simon smiles from underneath his mask- you’ve gotten better at reading his emotions, such as now, when his cheekbones raise and his eyes crinkle. He grunts.

“Couldn’t let it go to waste, could I?”

The comment makes something flutter in the cavity behind your heart. You know exactly what it is, of course, but. Well. Now doesn’t feel like an appropriate time for those feelings to ruck their way up. Simon and Johnny are happily together- honestly, you’re convinced they’re married and never told you. It simply wouldn’t be fair of you to push these feelings onto them when you know they don’t reciprocate.

“C’mon, love. ‘S go back to Johnny.”

The next time that pesky lighthearted feeling comes back is when Johnny gets invited to a restaurant for a small, intimate talk with himself and 200 other influential people in the area. The restaurant itself is more art-focused than most, boasting authentic pieces from the greats- such as Picasso, a Rothko, and even a Monet. As a gift, Johnny gives the restaurant three pieces- first, a sculpture he made ages ago but was still proud of, and then a matching set of two canvases. One was of a shapeless, nameless figure (Johnny) and a big, hulking figure (Simon). They met halfway, in the space between the canvases, in a kiss. You were invited, of course, and you had pulled out one of your nicest outfits for the occasion.

The three of you had been led to your table, surrounded by other people. Most of them weren't artists and were likely just very faithful regulars, but the effort was appreciated all the same. You listened to quite a few speeches from persons you had never heard of while you were served very fancy and very good food. Simon didn't eat, too uncomfortable to slip his fancy cloth mask from his face in the presence of so many people.

When all the plates are cleared, the visitors either leave or explore the art installations. Simon was hungry and apparently fancy restaurants didn't offer takeout boxes, so Simon and Johnny left early, leaving you alone.

You wandered around before finding Johnny's exhibit near the other smaller, less-known artists. You stand and stare for a second until someone else comes to admire with you. You give them a small smile, noticing their appearance as.. odd. All black while wearing a ski mask. They put a gloved finger up to where their lips might be before uncapping a thick, industrial-grade Sharpie. Suddenly, they lunge forward and scrape onto the canvas:

F AGG OT

In the heat of the moment, you gasp before lunging forward with them, making the person press the sharpie harder into the canvas. They're more agile than you, though, slipping away. In a fit, you throw Johnny's sculpture after them, and with perfect aim, you hit the back of their head.

They grunt and you, still enraged, shout something along the lines of 'help'. By the time the manager finds you, the person has long since escaped and you're crying from the lack of adrenaline and also the guilt of knowing you broke Johnny's sculpture. The manager is kind, though, helping you calm down and gently instructing you to call Johnny so you can tell him what happened.

Johnny and Simon are there again within the hour.

Johnny sort of... sadly stares at his defaced artwork with you and Simon on either of his sides. The cleaning team sweeps up the remains of the sculpture, and they ask Johnny if he wants to keep them. He just shakes his head and doesn't watch as they dump the clay shards.

The manager comes back and Simon leaves to ask her about security cameras, leaving you to hold Johnny's hand as you both stare at the wall. The guilt gnaws painfully at your gut.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I saw them. And I didn't- I didn't do anything." You say, hanging your head. While you had thrown the sculpture at the assailant, it hadn't done anything at all. They had gotten away. And when you think about it logically, they probably would've left the sculpture alone, seeing as their motives were purely and singularly homophobic. You weren't keen to tell anyone of your accident.

"Nothin' we can do, bon," Johnny says quietly. He squeezes your hand. "Nothin' we can do."

Simon comes back shortly, frustrated, and that's when the fluttering feeling comes back. He's not trying to upset Johnny but he's also mad- mad that there are no security cameras in this part of the art wing, nobody to protect the smaller artists' work. You know you shouldn't but you're secretly relieved- nobody will know that it wasn't the vandalizer who broke Johnny's sculpture.

It takes a while for Johnny to get back to his usual bubbly self. It's a moment of mourning, being brought down to earth, remembering that terrible people exist in the same world that Johnny does. The police get involved at some point, and you think that helps him. Just a little.

It takes a little while for things to go back to normal. You and Simon are there every step of the way, making him smile when it seems the hardest. Maybe your reassurance isn't needed all too much, but the guilt of everything compels you to be as useful as humanly possible. That means bringing baked goods around, helping with Riley when Simon is preoccupied, and helping ship out old orders from Johnny's Etsy. It also means helping Simon moderate the comments on Johnny's Tiktok page- ever since the vandalism incident, there's been a significant flux in hate comments.

Simon thanks you for it over tea when Johnny's out with some friends.

"'S been hard for him." Simon laments, surgical mask foregone as he cradles his little plastic cup of tea, dwarfing it with his two massive paws. "He's doin' a lot better now, thou'." You nod. Simon sighs and downs half the cup. "A real fancy exhibit's goin' up a week from now. And.... Well, Johnny got invited to display som' stuff. But... I don't know if it's gon' be the right thing for him."

"Yeah, but... Well, doesn't it sound like a good opportunity? Have you asked him?"

"No," Simon says sheepishly. "But-"

"You should." You cut him off with. "It could... I don't know, be like exposure therapy or something. Ask him." You press.

"Yeah." He grunts.

That's how you find yourself in a modern, sleek building, inside, watching Johnny give a speech in front of a whole wing dedicated to his artwork. There are Men In Black-like security guards there, to prevent any future vandalism. The light in Johnny's eyes is back and it warms your heart to see.

"Bonnie!" Johnny says, giving you a toothy grin as he bounds off the stage to strongarm you into a hug.

"You did great." You tell him the second he releases you. His grin is almost blinding.

He's about to continue the conversation before another bright-eyed well-wisher comes about. You smile at him before leaving him to his admirers. You sniffed out Simon nearby Johnny, watching like a protective guard dog. Eventually, you decide to slip out by yourself. You feel so fancy, in your finery, looking at Johnny’s lovely pieces, wandering around while cradling a glass of bubbly champagne.

Johnny’s display for the night is influenced by the fall season that’s on your heels. There’s photorealism of Riley in a white cloth like a ghost (you never thought that he could do photorealism, but then again it’s Johnny) and there’s a few of an environment- his flat, you know, specifically that of a messy bed and a singular potted plant. A single green tree surrounded by bunches of yellow ones.

You have one or two too many glasses as you wander aimlessly. Just as you’re about to throw in the towel, tired from the alcohol and fancy shoes, you come across a little crowd- which is odd, as it was a free-form exhibit, meant to be processed at your own pace.

Curiously you squeeze yourself through, peering up at the piece hung up along with a few other viewers.

It’s a white canvas with two black charcoal figures; one you can easily recognise as Simon, what with the familiar broad shoulders and the hulking frame Johnny loves to draw, but there’s an underlying softness to it, a gentleness as he hunches over the second figure, his brows tight as he cradles the other figure’s hand.  It takes your mind, impaired by the alcohol, some time before you’re able to see the other figure for what it is- you. Yourself. It makes you gasp and nearly topple over from shock- Johnny had rarely ever included anyone else other than Simon in his work, and that had only been one time, and it had been his mom. Seeing yourself, dwarfed by Simon, warmed your heart and yeah, maybe you cried a little.

It probably wasn’t the most normal thing to do, but, well. You had reached an epiphany- that persistent throb in your chest wasn’t just attraction.

You loved the two of them.

<- back next ->

[iblameashley]

Paths

Military | Male | Gay

!!!MW3 SPOILERS!!!    !!!MW3 SPOILERS!!!    !!!MW3 SPOILERS!!!

4,700 words

Content: Angst, DMC Implied, Trauma, Depression, Alternate Universe, Alternate Ending, Gay Stuff, Love, Fluff, Poorly translated Scottish Gaelic.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley | John 'Soap' MacTavish | Ghoap

!!!SFW!!! (Mostly) !!!SFW!!!

Actions have consequences, and sometimes those consequences seem dire and life shattering. Do we really know the person we'll be in the moment? Or the moments after? Ghost just witnessed a horror he was never prepared for. He doesn't know what path he will take, but he does know the darkness is closing in on him.

-THE TUNNEL-

BANG!

It happened so fast that no one really knew what happened, least of all Soap. He felt an intense heat in his head and his ear rang, reverberating through him as his body went limp.

“Johnny!” Ghost yelled, his voice gravelly and hoarse as he sprinted towards his comrade. 

Soaps body hit the concrete with barely a thump, and blood began to spill across the floor. 

Price managed to regain his composure, having witnessed the altercation and having let Makarov escape. He rolled over and pushed himself to his feet, running to Soap in time to meet Ghost.

“Fuckin' hell, Johnny!” Ghost choked out, his voice cracking and raspy. He fell to his knees and slid the last few inches to Soaps side. He promptly ripped off a glove, discarding it without care and placed two fingers on Soaps neck.

“Price! We still have to disarm this bomb!” Gaz yelled.

Prices hands hovered over Soaps still body. He mouthed something inaudible before looking to Ghost. His Heart shattered.

Ghosts heart shattered. 

Price pivoted and ran back to where Gaz was and tried to focus on one task at a time. One dead soldier was still an unacceptable loss, but the whole team? He gave Gaz a nod and went to work.

Ghosts hand shook like it did when he woke up in cold sweats. When the nightmares consumed his mind. This was the worst nightmare he had experienced.

He didn't feel a pulse.

He looked into Soaps eyes, those pretty blue eyes were so full of life. They shimmered back at him like marbles now, but there was no life. There was no breath, no pulse, no hope.

Ghost pulled Soap into an embrace, cradling him as the darkness began to consume him. The tightness in his stomach was nearly unbearable, and the weight of the world pressed harder on him than ever before. 

His calloused hands caressed Soaps cheek. It was still warm. Soft. 

“Johnny...” Ghost mumbled.

The world had fallen around Ghost, he didn't hear the stressed words of Price and Gaz as they worked to disarm the bomb. 

The sound of the train passing was drown out by the voices screaming in Ghosts head that he had failed the one man who had truly made him feel alive in years. The one man who saw past 'Ghost' and looked towards 'Simon' underneath it all. 

With the bomb successfully disarmed, Price and Gaz took a moment to catch their breath. One crisis down... countless to go. 

Prices steps were cautious, fearful as he approached the sight. Ghost had never been this emotional before, and he feared in his grief, Ghost might lash out like a wild animal. “Ghost.” He mumbles as he knelt down beside his men. He reached out a hand and placed it on Ghosts shoulder, giving it just a momentary squeeze. 

Ghost was already applying medical aid, lost in a need to do something. Anything. The gauze was spilled everywhere and wrapped haphazardly around Soaps head.

The bleeding had stopped,  it seemed, but there was still no sign of life. 

Price was the first to break, his lips pursed and he felt the tears wet his cheeks as his head dropped. He swallowed the lump in his throat and gripped his radio. 

“All stations this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe...” Price paused, knowing the words he would utter next would materialize a reality he wasn't prepared to accept. He grit his teeth and took a deep breath. “One KAI... we lost Soap.”

He finger released the radio before the pain in his words slipped through.

“Mate...” Gaz whispered to Ghost. He reached out, but pulled his hand back. 

Ghost wasn't having it. He wanted to crawl inside himself. He wanted everything to just stop. 

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-STREET-SIDE-

It felt like an eternity to get out of the tunnel, Ghost insisting on carrying Soaps limp form, still cradling him close. He lowered his masked cheek and pressed it against Soaps forehead as he walked, inhaled his lingering scent and looked at Soap with a duality that only Ghost could manage. Vulnerability and white-hot rage.

As they exited the tunnel, soldiers approached Price.

“The bomb has been secured and is being discretely removed from the site.” One of them advise Price who simply nodded. 

“Exfil trucks will be here in a moment, sir.” Another one chimed in.

Their gaze fell to Ghost and Soap, though neither dared to speak a word.

Blood had soaked into Ghosts mask and shirt, sticking to his skin. The metallic smell mingling with the lingering scent of gunpowder.

The tension could be cut with a knife. Ghost stood unwavering, holding the weight of Soap in his arms. He had dreamed about holding Soap... but never like this.  

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-EXFIL-

He lowered Soaps body into an exfil truck, leaving him in the care of the soldiers while he retreated into the second vehicle with Price and Gaz, though not without protest before retreaing further into himself. Simon was slipping away piece by piece, second by second. 

Price was on the radio, seemingly checking in with Laswell and updating her as necessary. 

“Rog,” Was the last thing Ghost heard from Price before he tuned it all out.

Gaz's eyes were downcast, examining his boots, his laces, anything but try – and fail – to offer any comfort to Ghost right now. His own stomach turned with sour grief.

Ghost didn't hear it come over the radio, too lost in his fading world.

“Repeat?” Price commanded into his radio.

It was just static to Ghost.

Gaz's head turned and eyes widened as he looked past Ghost.

“Repeat.” Price said, still not believing the words. “He's alive?”

Price's heart jumped in his chest.

“He's alive.” He mumbled.

“Just barely sir. We're going to go on ahead, get him to a medic.” A soldier crackled through the radio. 

“Rog. Step on it and get him treatment!” Price nearly yelled.

Ghost head finally turned, noticing the shift in the atmosphere. He stared at Price looking for answers.

“He's alive.” Price mouthed to Ghost. 

The ringing in his ears began to subside as he read Prices lips. 

“Johnny's...” Ghosts voice quaked.

Without thinking, Ghost ripped the radio from Price's vest and held down the button.

“Soldier!” His gravelly voice yelled into the mic. “You do everything to make sure that man stays alive, do you understand me?!” 

There was a momentary silence.

“Roger that.” The soldier replied, his voice clearly laced with fear. 

Ghost leaned forward in the truck and grabbed at the drivers shoulder. “Get us to the fucking medic now!” He ordered. 

The driver didn't respond, just looked in the rear-view mirror, first at Ghost, then to Price.

“Do it.” Price said with a curt nod.

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-HOSPITAL-

It took four soldiers, Price and Gaz to tackle Ghost to the floor at the hospital. He had demanded to be let into the surgery room to be beside Soap, and that wasn't going to happen. 

“Let me fucking go you twats!” Ghost howled. He strained against his oppressors, trying to crawl towards the door. “Johnny! Johnny!” His voice shook.

“Stand the fuck down!” Price grunted as he twisted Ghosts arm behind his back. “Lieutenant Riley! I said, stand the fuck down! Now!” Price ordered.

A doctor intervened and sedated Ghost.

Ghosts eyes rolled in his head and slowly fluttered shut as his body went limp.

“Johnny...” Ghost whispered into the cold hospital tiles. 

Price propped Ghost in a chair before taking a seat beside him. He pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes as they all waited for news. 

There would be hell to pay for this, but it was a bargain if Soap survived.

“I've never seen Ghost like this.” Gaz mumbled. His eyes scanned Ghost who at least looked peaceful in the moment. 

“You don't know, do ya?” Price questioned. 

Price drew a long breath and held it before exhaling slowly. 

“He's in love with Soap.” Price finally offered. His lips twitched as he thought it over. He knew, for a while now. Of course he knew.

“Love?” Gaz's brow furrowed. The confusion was plain as day over his face.

Price nodded. 

“Soap had a way a bringing out Simon.” Price slowly began to explain in a calm, collected tone. “Regulations be damned, I couldn't bring myself step in or try and stop it. Simon deserved to be happy, to have a life beyond the mask of Ghost.” Price gave a shrug. He would be in deep shit if anyone had found out, now it seemed of little consequence. “Soap seemed to love him back.” There was an air of sadness in his tone. His eyes flickered to the doors to the surgical ward and then back to Gaz.

Gaz rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands against his chin. He thought about it for a moment. It made sense, really. He hadn't noticed at the time, but looking back? All the jokes, the looks, and touches... no one had that privilege but Soap. 

“I can't believe I missed it.” Gaz remarked with a breathy laugh. He shook his head and a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Took me a bit to see it too, lad.” Price reassured. “Just be glad you missed the late night rendezvous.” Price let out a gravelly chuckle. “I was – I am – happy for them. I just wish I had done more to protect them.” Price bit his lower lip.

“Not much you could have done that wouldn't have outed their relationship, Cap.” Gaz sat up and leaned back in the chair. “They would have also refused any offer you made.” Gaz nodded his head in agreement with himself. 

“Maybe you're right... but something needs to change now.” Price closed his eyes and tried to push all the thoughts flooding his head down. 

There was a long pause as both men thought. Sneakers squeaked on the tiled floor, doctors and nurses muttered and paced and the hospital went about its business as Price and Gaz weighed the options.

“What if --” 

“Son, don't.” Price interjected with a snarl. He hear the tone in which Gaz had spoke and was shutting that thought down. 

“When.” Gaz corrected. “When Soap recovers... you could force...” A knot formed in Gaz's stomach even thinking it. He couldn't imagine the one-four-one without Soap or Ghost, but right now it seemed the only viable option.

Ghost body slumped slightly to the side, coming to a rest on Price's shoulder.

“I wish I had told them both how proud I was of them, how happy I was for them.” Price murmured regretfully. A knot formed in his chest. “It would have meant more back then.” 

“Can't dwell on what would have been, now, Cap.” Gaz placed his hand on Ghosts shoulder and gave it a rub. “I'm worried about Ghost, though. Even when Soap recovers, this will have taken a toll on him. I'm not sure he'll be the same.”

“We'll be there for them both. Like we should have been. I'll take care of them, I'll take care of my boys.” Price feels the tears welling in his eyes. The words uttered a promise to himself more than to Soap or Ghost. 

“Mmm.” Is all that Gaz manages to mumble before they both fall silent. 

So many words left unsaid and now, trying to fill the silence felt like an insurmountable task.

After a half hour Price sent most of the soldiers along, back to base with only a truck left behind for them to use. 

Price paced and sat, then paced some more as Gaz watched over Ghost who now rested on Gaz's shoulder. 

“Captain Price?” A mans voice bellowed through the corridor. Price turned quickly to see the surgeon standing at the threshold of the doorway.

“That'd be me.” Price replied with weariness. He was bracing himself for the worst.

He took the few paces needed to come face to face with the  Doctor.

“I spoke with Mr. MacTavish's family before I came out.” The doctor beings. “They have given me permission to release his medical information to you and release him into the SAS's care... in forty-eight hours.”

Prices eyes widened.

“Soap – John is...?”

“Going to pull through.” The doctor nods firmly. “He suffered a bad head injury, there is a lot of damage to his cranium. We don't believe he'll suffer any permanent brain damage but...”

“Just tell me, Doc.” Price huffs, what could possibly matter more than Soaps being okay? He felt the itch that Ghost had – albeit a softer itch – and was desperate to visit Soap to see for himself. 

“Mr. MacTavish will never see out of his left eye again, might have some cognitive issues, and he'll have a nasty scar as well.” He clasped his hands together, "We won't know more about the cognitive issues until he wakes and we examine him."

Price let out a sigh of relief which surprised the doctor.  

He couldn't help but laugh at the doctors reaction.

“Doc, after everything that man has been through, this is a goddamn miracle.” Price smirked. “When can we see him?”

I doctor closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He thought about it for a moment. 

“A few hours. I want Mr. MacTavish to have a proper rest before we wake him and allow visitors.”

“Of course.” 

Price looked back at Ghost who was still slumped against Gaz. 

“Can I borrow a wheelchair?” Price requested.

The doctor looked to Ghost then back at Price.

“Of course.” He mimicked. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I'll have a nurse grab a wheelchair and let you know when you can visit.”

Price placed his hands on his hips and let out a long breath, a wave of relief really washing over him, finally. He looked at the floor for a moment, allowing the happiness to embrace him. Soap was alive and going to be fine. Mostly.

He gave the Doctor a firm pat on the shoulder and a slight shake before turning and returning to Gaz.

“Surgery was a success” Price informed Gaz who allowed himself to melt into the chair. 

He flopped his head back against the wall. “Sorted.” Was all he managed to say.

The air felt lighter now, somehow. 

A nurse came along not long after Price was given the news, with a wheelchair as promised. 

Price hoisted Ghost over his shoulder and spun around before dropping him a little less gently into the seat. 

“Fuck, I'm too old for this.” Price grumbled. He stood up, placing a hand on his lower back and stretching. He glanced at Gaz, “I'm hoping Soap will be the first thing Ghost sees.”

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-RECOVERY-

Ghosts head ached something fierce as the drugs began to wear off. His head wobbled and his eyes struggled to open. He let out a growl as his blurred vision slowly came into focus. 

“Fuckin' hell...” He growled again. 

He looked at his lap first, then to the bed in front of him. 

“Johnny...”

His body felt like a paperweight, but he force his head up.

A familiar hand with a hospital band wrapped around its wrist.

Ghosts eyes trailed up the bed sheets, the slow rising and falling of a chest.

As Ghosts eyes landed on Soaps face and his stomach twisted as he saw the oxygen mask and bandages wrapped around Soaps head. Over his eye.

Soap looked so peaceful, so beautiful and so fragile. It made Ghosts heart ache. 

“Johnny.” Ghost whined as he forced his body forward.

He should have been faster, should have never left Soaps side. He should taken a shot from further away. 

He should have done a thousand things differently.

He should have spent those late night rendezvous telling Soap, telling Johnny how much he cared for him. Instead he spent them trying not to pull away from Soaps loving touch. How many months had been wasted resisting? How many nightmares did Johnny quell when Ghost finally let him comfort him? Too many to count now.

Fuck. How deeply he craved that touch back then, even more so now.

He flopped onto the bed, his head coming to a rest on Soaps chest.

His hands gripped at the sheets as he fought back the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him. Grief, anger, confusion, relief. 

“I didn't deserve you.” He reminded himself. Reminded Johnny. 

All those things he had ever told himself about being undeserving felt so real and so true now. He had wasted so much time, and Soap kept giving him more. He couldn't understand why. How could Soap love him when he didn't even love himself?

Ghost was splintered. He was always that way, but this time -this feeling- was different. For the first time in... longer than he could remember he wanted to cry. He wanted to wail out like a wounded animal. He wouldn't, though. He'd never allow himself that weakness. 

But more than that, he wanted to pull his Johnny into a loving, warm embrace. 

He gripped angrily at his mask and pulled it off. Ghost was a failure. He crumpled the fabric and discarded it to the side of the bed. He looked at the mask and the empty eye sockets stared back at him, judging him. Simon was weak, ghost was a failure. The world continued to spin.

His arms wrapped Soap as best he could, pressing against him gently, afraid Soap would break if he pressed too hard. 

Ghost buried his face into Soaps neck, His lips brushed against the stubble, and he inhaled the remnants of sandalwood and smoke. He closed his eyes and simply listened to Soaps heartbeat, let the rising and falling of Soaps chest sooth him. 

“I'm going to make this right, Johnny.” Ghosts voice shook as he whispered his promise. “I'm going to end this and then I'm coming home to you.” were the last words he uttered before drifting off to sleep.

Fingers were tangled and brushing through his hair as Ghost finally stirred from his slumber. There was a blanket draped over Ghosts body. Someone had been here before he woke up.

He tensed for a moment, forgetting where he was. His head propped up, and Soaps hand slid down his head and over his cheek.

Soap looked at him through weary eyes and sported a lopsided smile.

“Mornin', LT.” He rasped in a thick Scottish accent. His thumb brushed over Ghosts cheek. “Ye look like shit.”

“Fuck you, Johnny.” Ghost growled before chuckling.

“Been tryin' tae get ye to do that fer months, LT.” Soap joked. Mostly. “What happened tae keepin' it tactical?” Soap asked.

Ghosts arms moved up Soaps side and then back down again to his waist. 

“Fuck keepin' it tactical.” Ghost hissed. “Once this is over...” Ghost trailed off.

Soaps hands found their way to Simon's hair again and weakly tousled it. 

“Aye? Gonnae take mae tae the beach an show mae those tan lines?” Soap raised his eyebrow curiously. 

“Something like that, Johnny.” 

“Well, we'll ave all the time tae figure it out. Price has already informed mae I'll never work missions again.” Soap lamented. He clenched his jaw.

“Price can't...” 

Ghost stopped. Price could, he would and worse, he had to. And deep down, Ghost wanted him too, and would have pushed for it, even if it had meant hurting Johnny and ruining what they had. 

“Its okay, Simon,” Ghost eyes widened as Soap said his name. “I'll bae fine. I'll find new work an we'll find a way tae make this work. If ye still want.”

If? If? Ghost wanted nothing more than Johnny.

“I do still want this. You... us.” Ghost admitted. The rawness of the feelings scratched at his throat with the admission. 

“Good. I want this too, Simon.” Soap nodded.

He pressed Ghosts head down into his chest and played at the nape of his neck.

“They'll bae movin; mae tae the base later today. Then I'll start mae recovery.” Soap explained softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Once I have the all clear, I... I want tae go home to Scotland, see mae family. I want yae to join me.”

Ghost sucked in a sharp breath and  tilted his head up to look at Soap. His lips moved, but nothing came out. Soap had to have felt Ghosts heart skip a beat. He was serious! Not just about this relationship, but about meeting his family, going to Scotland. 

“Yes.” Managed to whimper out.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

-DECISIONS-

Six months of absolute hell had followed the tunnel incident. Soaps injury, recovery and forced retirement from missions; Ghost never leaving his side for long during any of it. Meals, sleep and even mission reports had all been done at Soaps side. 

Ghost slept, now. Soap gave him no choice, and Price encouraged him to keep doing it.

Price had offered Soap a desk job on base, wanting to keep him around for his invaluable knowledge, and maybe just so he could keep an eye on his favourite Scot. But Soap hadn't made any clear decisions about what he was going to do. He had to adjust to his new depth perception as well as some memory and cognitive issue that sprung up during recovery. 

After a lead had been found on Makarov, Soap pushed Ghost to go. “Stop him.” He insisted with a furrowed brow. “Make sure he won't hurt anyone else... and then come back to me.” Ghost would have gone anyway, he was just trying to convince himself he could stay.

So off Ghost went. He donned his mask once more for a mission and took off with Price, Gaz and they had called in Alejandro to assist. Weeks spent away from Soap, pinning for that comforting touch, those calming smells. That irritating Scottish voice. He cherished them all, and chats over video calls didn't cut it.

But the mission was a success in the end. Makarov was stopped and dead; Ghost made sure of that with six bullets to the head. Price called it overkill, Ghost called it  being thorough. 

It wasn't enough though. The pain and suffering Makarov had inflicted still ran deep, and even his lifeless body didn't bring Ghost the relief he craved. 

The team made it out in one piece, though the same couldn't be said for Makarov's men or stronghold. Ghost adorned a few new scars, and looked forward to showing them off to Soap when he got back.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

-SCOTLAND-

The SUV slowly made its way up the dirt driveway that lead to the farmhouse. There were kids playing in the field to the side of the house, screaming with joy.

Price and Simon rocked back and forth slightly with every bump they hit.

“Big step, meeting the family.” Price joked. He gave Simon a reassuring side-eye and smile. “I'm happy for you, Simon.” He added.

Simon just let out his usual growl and a nod. 

It wasn't that he changed his mind, not in the slightest. It was the unknown that scared him. He was about to take a leap of faith – and he had lost his faith years ago. 

As the SUV came to a stop at in front of the house, Simon stared at the door to the house.

Simon put his hand on the door handle and paused.

“Before you go.” Price reached over and grabbed Simon's arm. He gave it a squeeze before letting go and grabbing a manila envelope from the glove compartment. 

Simon knew what it was. Price had discussed it prior to agreeing to drive all the way to fucking Scotland with him. KIA papers, or rather copies.

Ghost was retired officially. Ghost was dead now. 

Laswell had forged the documentation herself, saying that Ghost was killed in action taking down Makarov. No one would dare have said otherwise.

“Open it.” Price nodded towards the envelope.

Simon briefly wanted to question Price, but instead just followed orders. 

He pulled the papers out, and as he suspected, it was the copies. But there was still some weight to the envelope

Simon peer in and saw some plastic cards and what appeared to be a passport.

He tipped the envelope and let the contents spill into his hands. New ID and a passport. And a bank card and birth certificate. 

“Samuel Riley, born May twenty-eighth, nineteen eighty-seven.” Simon let out a huff. “New life?” He asked rhetorically.

“New life. And don't worry... Laswell and I have your back. You'll still be getting a regular paycheck from us for a while. It won't be the same as you're used to, but we'd – I'd – never leave you high and dry, Simon.” 

Price reached over and gripped Simon firmly behind the neck. “I'm proud of you, Simon. You deserve this more than anyone I know. Just make me a promise, or two?” His voice was gruff, strained as he was saying his goodbyes to Simon.

“What do you need, Cap?” Simon inquired, his eyes flickering from the entrance to the house over to Price.

“Make the most of this life, yeah?” Price was almost pleading with him. “Promise me that.” His hand squeezed Simon's neck a bit tighter.

“...and promise you'll come home to visit me and Gaz.” He added as he fought off a frown.

“I'll promise you that if you and Gaz promise to visit on a holiday's once in a while.” Simon smiled. His  heart ached; there was the pain of loss, of losing what he was, certainly. But the ache also felt good somehow. He felt like he finally had a family.

“As his Captain, I feel confident saying, 'we promise'.” Price nodded his head approvingly. 

There was the sound of a door slamming closed and Simon's head spun to see Johnny. His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed hard. 

This was real. Somehow he felt this was all going to be a dream. But there he was.

Johnny stood only a few meters away. He was dressed in a handmade wool sweater and a kilt. He donned simple boots that thumped against the wooden steps. 

He was so fucking handsome. Even with the large scar that cut through his milky left eye. His mohawk had grown out and flopped to the side, waving in the soft winds.

“Best not keep him waiting.” Price remarked, giving Simon a gentle push. “Take care of each other, Samuel.” He said softly.

“Rog.”

Samuel exited the car slowly, and closed the door behind him. Price gave Soap a friendly nod before slowly pulling away and driving back down the driveway.

“Johnny.”

Samuel's hands reached out slowly to brush against Soaps. He closed the distance between them until Soap was nearly pressed to his chest. 

“Simon.” Soap replied.

Samuel shook his head, “Its Sam, now.” He corrected softly. “Thought you'd be sporting an eye-patch.” He added with a cheeky grin. The tightness he felt in his body began to loosen and unravel.

“Aye, ye like pirates now do ye?” Soap fired back. “An here I thought yae'd like my sexy scar. I got it just fer ye.”

“That so?” Sam's hands moved up Soaps chest and neck until he cupped Soaps cheek. “Johnny. I'm..”

Soap shook his head. “Dinnae dare apologize to me Si-- Sam.”

There was a pause between them as they simply stood there studying each others features, committing each other to memory.

“I'm not going to waste any more time, Johnny.” Sam rasped. With a shaky breath – and hand – he tilted Soaps head up ever so slightly before placing a long overdue kiss to the mans lips. 

His eyes closed as their chapped but warm lips pressed softly together. He wanted this moment to last forever.

"They're kissing!" yelled one of the kids from the field, before giggling and running off.

Soap laughed at his niece's comment. Their lips parted and Sam rested his forehead against Soaps.

“Tha gaol agam ort.” Sam mumbled in butchered with his English accent.

“Heh, English, LT.” Soap teased him.

Soaps hands loosely wrapped around Sam's neck. “I love ye too.” He confessed. 

The weight on both of them began to lift now that they could finally just be honest with each other. No regulations or missions to get in the way of things any more. No more mask to hide behind and no more bad guys that only they could stop. 

Just each other.

“Come now,” Soap mouths to Sam. “Time tae introduce ye to the family.”

He pulls away and takes Sam by the hand, slowly guiding him towards the house.

Family.

Samuel had a real family now, and he wasn't going to squander this gift.

[frescoisnotinthemilitary]

Welcome to my blog!

I’m Fresco (you don’t have to call me that, anything is fine). Not my real name, but it’s what I go by on the internet. I’m 24 (until September). She/her. My favorite color is teal. I’m really into the Army, so don’t be surprised if I go missing for a few months in a few years (odds are, I’ve enlisted).

I read an unhealthy amount of CoD fanfiction and write considerably less. I take CoD (and OC) requests and questions, but I haven’t gotten many yet. My Tumblr dream is to write fanfic that makes people happy (or sad, I’m not picky). I like to evoke emotion with my writing. I don’t write smut. This is a Mostly Minor Friendly™️ blog. I am an avid Ghoap enjoyer.

Everything here is a To Be Continued.

I live in the USA, and I work off EST [Eastern Standard Time]. I’m not good with deadlines.

But I digress. This is my (severely lacking color) blog. Enjoy your stay!

About my OC

Simon “Ghost” Riley

John “Soap” MacTavish

König

My poems/Misc. song lyrics

All music recommendations and Spotify links

Miscellaneous post archive

I will not discuss my political beliefs. I don’t want my blog to become another cold corner of the internet. Everyone of all backgrounds, nationalities, religions, races, sexualities, gender identities, etc. is welcome here. Just like the Planet Fitness I go to, this is a No Judgement Zone.

I will accept (and am very open to) constructive criticisms and suggestions about how to make my blog and content better. That can be in DMs, my inbox (you can specify if you wouldn’t like it posted), or in a comments section.

I will not write explicit smut. I’m fine with anything up to making out and implied sexual activity—after that, it’s a lost cause. This may change in the future, but as of now, I have a no-smut-writing policy.

I will not tolerate hateful behavior or comments toward myself or others. I have no problem blocking people or turning off anonymous requests so that discouraging users can no longer conceal themselves behind the mask of anonymity.

Do not upload my works to any AI processing platforms, do not claim my work as your own, and don’t be rude about my work. You’re responsible for your own content consumption, and if you don’t like it, don’t read it. Please be kind to me and others.

All the lovely banners are courtesy of @cafekitsune

[mas--away]

ATLA au with the 141

Contrary to popular belief Soap is not a firebender instead he is an airbender.

He looks like an firebender bc well he works with fire with explosions with bombs thing that make fire but thats the thing fire feeds off of air that why his "fire" reaches levels so high maybe impossibly high for normal firebenders.

And you cant really see airbending and airbenders are very rare almost extint like the avatar thats why most people believe he is a firebender and he didnt correct people about it, it wasnt need to know for people anyway.

the team doesnt know he is an airbender either. his file says he is a nonbender. He changed it bc he didnt want to get experimented on...again.

Oh team! Price is an earthbender Gaz is a firebender and Ghost is a waterbender

Price is a very strong earthbender he is specificly mastered at metal bending its very usefull on field. Bullet coming at high speed? Change their way. Helicopter took shot? Bend the metal so it still works. Gaz and Soap deffinetly makes him study lava bending too bc its basicly fire in liquid form and well Gaz and Soap both love chaos. He and Gaz doesnt like mission on the ocean.

Gaz is a relativly strong firebender even tho he is new at using it for his job. Police force didnt really need an firebender unless they were against a bender criminal. One day someone from the team was at danger and it was raining so he couldnt really use fire he needed more concentration but there werent any time to focus. So he instictivly redirected a lightning que suprised pikachu face. After that time he started to study lightning bending.

Ghost was one of the strongest waterbender. Everyone expected him to be something fierce like fire or something sturdy like earth nothing like the calming water. But the ocean is dangerous, its deep dark and all moving...constantly changing. He started with ice bending it come in handy with bruises his father gave him. His mother was also a waterbender she tought him how to bend water to heal. It was one of his favorite memories. But after failing to save so many people he swore off using his bending to heal...Soap changed that for him (will tell more about it below) In military they forced him to learn bloodbending. Its very usefull in his line of work but he hates using it so he doesnt unless its dire. His fave thing to use is ice blades.

Soap is an airbender an outcast of his bloodline. At first noone noticed he was an airbender instead they all tought he was a nonbender until the accident even after the accident his family never bothered to teach him his element instead they tought him of all of them easier to disguise as another bender easier to explain. They would rather have a nonbender than an airbender even if it meant the pure bloodline seemed as mixed. After the incident he was scared of his own abilities promised himself that he would never ever use it. That made him easier to manipulate easier to control. Because if he also didnt want to have the freedom of air why give him space to breathe at all? Que in an adopted sibling (they had to both parents never home and someone had to take care of the useless child.) same as him, who understood what he been through they bended air too... They showed him that air is not something to be scared of air is warm air is colming breeze of the sea air is warmth before the rain air is colder but calming breeze after a rain. With them he started learning really learning airbending. Airbending is usually not seen its after affects are or if there is dust or any light objects that air can lift. That made their study sessions easier to hide from his parents. When he first joined the army at 16 -after his siblings death(more on that later maybe..)- they somehow learned that he bended air. Air benders are rare and the goverment likes to use whatever they can get thier grabby dirt hands on. He trusted his team he trusted someone more then he trusted his team he decided that person was a familyto him. Loosing the only family left person he ever confided in to his team of all people was devistating. With that he was experimented on, used, a mouse that is in an endless maze just to get to a cheese after a while it became too much so he let go thats where he learned spirit projection. When he escaped He ruined them and his former team, he was the only one left alive. There was no marks anywhere. Not a single wound on the victims of his destruction just still air no sound nothing. Later it was diagnosed all of the team who betrayed their own for easy mony was killed by suffication. There is a reason airbenders dont fight. Air is everywhere -unless you are in space-. Air may look docile and weak but air is the only element that has no natural detterent. We’ve seen waterbenders imprisoned in places with no water, earthbenders kept in captivity in the middle of the ocean and powerless firebenders in snowy fortresses...Air is what keeps you alive. Air is in your lungs someone can force it out withought you knowing it until its too late....(I lost my toughts here sorry)

The team together works amazing frfr

Soap and Gaz? Fire and air. Air what makes the fire grow. Im sure Soap and Gaz have fun with this information they immideatly click they are brothers im sure Gaz's family "adopted" Soap when he made Soap meet his family bc they kept asking about him (he sent presents and homemade crochet stuff with Gaz all the time so they had to meet him and thank him properly) first thing gaz says is "It looks like you stole my place in the family! I was supposed to be their child they never treat me like how they treat you" he pouts but he is so glad that he was able to give Soap a family he never had before. They may or may not have singed the ceiling while trying to light the candles on Gaz's younger siblings birthday cake. They also train Gaz's lightning bending together well Gaz trains and Soap watches its an excuse for him to get soaked in the rain. Soap sometimes helps with his postures tho so no Price he is not here to just to get soaked thank you. One time Soap brought out (made Price buy/make them bc it was an experiment and i promise its safe) other types of elements that color change a fires color just to see if he can make Gaz have rainbow fire.

Soap and Ghost Air and Water. While air has more compatiblity with fire to work with. Soap and Ghost makes it work they are both ever changing elements. They use their elements in combat as a distraciton they make mist, they make vortexes they make pressured water they make little water droplets together just for Ghost to turn them to ice when they start falling and Soap makes their way by changing the air currents. They probably try to come up with new stuff on their spare times. Soap was also the reason Ghost started back in the healing bussiness he always came with wounds but the last stike to the thin threat of Ghost's dedication on not using healing ever was in Las Almas after getting shot Soap's bullet wound needed healing and it needed it fast. The bullet was lodged in there (Soap was just greatfull it didnt come anywhere near his chakras) But he was loosing blood faster and well what if he waited last minute to tell Ghost that he had anemia it wasnt his fault that he remembered that just before passing out! Ghost was forced to use his healing and well even though he was a bit rough from lack of usage he managed to treat the wound as best as he can (he was really glad it was fullmoon and rained that day) And that was start of a something new something fragile after all water is the element of change. Also he only uses the healing on Soap and well who is to say he took this as an adventage to hangout with Ghost more and run away from the medical nurses he always that knows his name by now. He may love needles but he loves hanging out with Ghost and feeling of his cool but somehow also warm waterbending on his skin...

This is all i got as of now my brain is out of juice. all of the juice that is left is saying:

Price and Ghost earth n water plant :0 mud mud mud mud >:) Ghost and Gaz cancel each other out Ghost teaches Gaz how to warm himself up underwater bc Firebenders body heat goes down faster then others. Price and Soap weed. JKJK Price makes marbles and Soap spins them omg they can be human machine gun together 🫢 Gaz can make blue fire. Price is tried of his kids and their bendings so he makes a earthbox for himself and the kids cry bc how dare you shun us out dad!!

Rudy waterbender(ice) Alejandro Firebender frfr

BUT YEAH IF YOU GUYS HAVE ANY OTHER TOUGHTS ON THIS PLEASE SHARE PLEASE PLEASE also if u guys think differently on their bender types do tell me :D

[appleciderp]

Hold onto your hats, because I want to rant about how Blizzard fucking sucks with women or any minority rep. And why it'll suck for your fav in whatever MW is coming up.

Fully inspired by this post, I'll be referencing to a few points that @spookykittenwrites made

As I said in those tags, I've been playing WoW since Burning Crusade, so I've known about the company since about 2007. I've not touched overwatch, but according to emp, their rep there is surface-level as well.

It's half me yelling about MW and half me yelling about how WoW fails in representation.

I have 0 faith in them with any sort of proper representation. I'll mostly be sticking to queers and women. I do have a small section about Gaz, but I'm white and keep that in mind.

Onto the bullshit

They're not gonna make any main character queer. This means Soap, Gaz, Price, and Ghost. Farah and Alex by extension. Most likely not Alejandro and Rudy. They won't risk the repercussions.

Hell, Alejandro is implied to have a family, but we skimmed over that part as a fandom.

What they will do, like Laswell, mention that a side/secondary/tertiary character has a partner, but won't put ANY thought into it. Laswell's wife could SHOULD have been talked about by name.

They don't CARE enough about their characters to even solidify her over a facade of rep that will make the queer people happy. It did in a sense, I am happy that she has a wife. But if you're bothering to have a line about her, just add a second. Like Price could ask "Oh, how's Madeline doing anyways?" or "Yea, you've told Jenny you'd stop smoking how many times already?"

WoW-wise, their queer characters are mostly surface-level. Which isn't bad in a world full of queer stories that are queer-centric. The problem is they don't have the balls to upset any fan by making a popular character explicitly queer in their portrayal. Hell it wasn't even THEM who made Matthias and Flynn queer, it was originally put into the novels (I believe Chrissy Golden?)

Here's a quote from an executive producer: "We don't try to put a big focus on it and make it a big deal, we just try to make the game feel comfortable, friendly and approachable for everybody"

I don't know about you, but using "comfortable, friendly, and approachable for everybody" as an excuse for why you don't have more outwardly queer rep (versus "hint around it") leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Because my sexuality or gender identity is uncomfortable for people? My existance is uncomfortable for people, so you don't want to explicitly say it???

but he implied that the devs don't think Pelagos is the first trans character. Fuck you. It's giving JKR saying that Dumbledore is gay, but it wasn't important to Harry's story. What isn't explicitly said in the source material is not canon.

They had, HAVE, the chance to make major players into canonically queer characters, but they're afraid of backlash. Vol'jin would have been so easily bi in canon, especially with his whole thing with Tyranthan in the fucking novel. And that Tyranthan went to his funeral??? even though they're on opposite sides????

Onto the next point, they don't and won't give a shit about the female characters. All I'm thinking about is the disappointing outcome of Tyrande's revenge after the burning of Teldrassil, hell even the whole Azshara thing. I'm not gonna go into detail about how it, just know it led to nothing. She didn't get revenge. She didn't have a satisfying end. Why? Probably because Sylvanas and Azshara are both more popular than Tyrande. Sylvanas probably being the WoW character with the most merch (not to mention the whole thing about a dev loving her).

Farah is gonna be brought up minimally, much like she was in MW II. Valeria/El Sin Nombre and most likely the Vaqueros will be completely forgotten. Maybe brought back (again like Farah was in MW II)

They're not consistent with their characters in the first place, why give a shit about a promise they made. It'll most likely be implied between games that some shit will be solved, or a line or two in the next game. Just so people get closure.

The surface level rep keeps going throughout. We have a bunch of diversity in the operators, but significantly less in the campaign, where the characters need to be fleshed out more than a written backstory and voiced lines.

How often have they shown Alex properly since he lost his leg?

The dudebro's are pissed that they changed Gaz, a mostly 1-dimensional character that died within the first Modern Warfare. Gaz is a good character, there's no reason that they're pissed about him vs them being pissed about any other member of the task force. But I've seen more hate on Gaz than any other 141. Which sadly leads me to conclude that they probably only dislike him due to his race.

But the aspect that isn't giving me much hope is the phasing out of Gaz in additional content. You're telling me the only POC in the 141 is not included in the red team? Out of all the dudes you could have removed?? Like I'm all for including Farah into the red team; but removing the only person of color on the team, one who was canonically in the Ghost Team mission, isn't the win they think it is.

Not to mention the numerous merch of the 141 that have Ghost, Price, and Soap; but not Gaz. With only 1 design containing Gaz.

And don't come at me that "those are the old designs though!" It's in their current website for sale. The 8-bit design is fairly recent within the last few weeks or so. Gaz is a main character in MW 2019 AND 2022. He deserves more than 1 solo shirt that is just the repurpose of the 141 shirt.

Onto the points brought up by @spookykittenwrites

Ghoap

Either won't be mentioned at all or will be excessively "haha we're just pals" kinda vibes.

They WILL play up the dynamic in trailers and such, as it did bring a new group of people to the games, and it seemed to make the dudebro's happy with their bromance.

Death

None of the main characters will be killed off. There's too much opportunity to make money off of their survival. So far the new games have been very light with the major character deaths. In the original games Soap and Price are the only 2 that survive past 1 game.

Roach

They're not gonna make him mute or selectively mute.

I do think they might bring back Roach to kill him off within the same Game though.

Hell, they might not even bring him back.

Farah and Alex

I honestly hope that we see them together, it might not happen. I think they're gonna keep the Farah/Alex line as the raid focus.

As for the no chemistry thing. Depends. If they're seen for 3.5 seconds they definitely won't. Hell, they aren't technically ever stated to be dating in canon AND the dudebro's get pissed that people are shipping them. Again with the not saying anything that'll upset the target audience.

For the Muslim aspect; not sure they even think about their own characters enough to have her religion mentioned in game. (They can't even get the bios straight when they update the game, I'm not gonna complain about this here)

Laswell's Wife

Important thing to remember, the line about her wife isn't even in every playthrough. It's a hidden one.

No doubt about her never being mentioned in my head. It only got past the dudebros because it's a lesbian couple. If it was a dude talking about his husband I doubt it would have gotten into the game.

US can do no Wrong

Definitely, the entirety of the blame will be on Russians. They did in fact blame a real US warcrime on Russians in the past.

Interestingly enough, the most recent info I can find is that the Military took out their funding post-sexual harassment allegations from Activision-Blizzard in December 2022.

Military Propaganda is still Military Propaganda even if the Military isn't funding it.

Moral of the story? The comfort of the dudebros, the target demographic for the game, will always be priority. They won't risk hurting their profits by claiming a character is queer or putting too much importance on a woman. Whatever their comfort level is, is what that we'll be getting.

I'm gonna stop my rant here... Don't go into the next game hoping to get some good rep.

On a slightly positive note: they are getting better. Farah was genuinely a good character in MW 2019. The fact that there's a mention of a same-sex partner, even in passing, is pretty good.

Also, enjoy the Christmas merch shirts that I found of Price and Ghost.