sinnerghvst

[sinnerghvst]

medical discharge is, unfortunately, what gets to ghost and soap first—not retirement, as they had begun hoping. separate times, separate injuries, though little more than a year apart. ghost is first with his leg being broken so severely that even upon being healed, he’d be using a cane for the rest of his life. soap, a year or so later, loses his hearing and is left to rely on aids, of which are not particularly suitable for field work.

it’s okay, though, because at least they came out the other side alive, together.

soap moves on from the military, starts going to night classes until he finds something that sticks. ghost remains a consultant, more or less, still participating in military life—but only in the cushy administration parts.

it’s nice. they get to explore the what ifs that their careers hadn’t let them, and getting to explore that with each other? well, then they’re all set for life.

[sinnerghvst]

“you don’t smoke.”

it takes a lot to startle ghost these days, but then again, soap has always been the exception, hasn’t he?

“come again?”

“you don’t smoke,” says soap. “not anymore.”

ghost does his best to keep him breathing even. “yeah, well. things change, j—soap.”

things being the bullet in soap’s head. things being the memory loss, the losing johnny. things being the doctors telling ghost there's no guarantee that soap will remember anything; remember him, what they were to each other. yet here they stand—ghost trying for a smoke in one of his secret haunts (ha), and an amnesiac soap that should be in medical or under price's supervision but has instead found his way here.

old habits die hard, ghost supposes.

"what are you doing here anyway, sergeant? surely you have something more important than bein' up here."

in ghost's periphery, soap shrugs. the expression he wears is still infected with the blankness of unfamiliarity, but ghost would be stupid to think there isn't some reason as to why soap has somehow found himself here, in a location he surely couldn't remember, if he couldn't so much as recall ghost's name without a reminder.

"got sick of medical," soap replies plainly. "my feet led me here."

ghost hums, though he knows it isn't the full truth. he balances a cigarette between his lips, fishes his lighter from his pocket, and lights the smoke. soap says nothing.

he doesn't know what to make of anything, as soap allows him to indulge in silence, and he doesn't know whether or not he'd rather this be a one-off kind of thing. on one hand, this could mean that soap might start remembering other little things, might start picking up the pieces of his past, their past. but on the other, if this is only a one-time occurrence, it might leave ghost a little more heartbroken than he already is—which could be a good thing, if only so he might eventually, finally move on from what could never be, not ever again.

"you shouldn't smoke, lt," soap says quietly, the moment ghost flicks the butt of his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot.

ghost pauses, caught off guard by the nickname he'd yet to hear again since the incident. he feels soap's eyes on him, unwavering, oblivious.

the lieutenant clears his throat in an attempt to play off his surprise. "focus on your own issues first, soap."

ghost starts past him, just barely fighting the urge to clap the sergeant's shoulder as he passes. his chest feels tight as he leaves soap behind, breath caught in his throat as he tries not to look like he's running away.

he can't do this. he can't—he can't. can't bear to have soap so close yet so far from reach. can't bear to have these glimpses into the past taunting him as punishment for innumerable sins. ghost can't do this.

how he wishes for things to have gone differently. in which way, he still isn't sure, but he thinks that anything else would be less painful than this.

[sinnerghvst]

never having loved someone like he does soap before, ghost expects their first kiss to be the way it’s always described in books, the way it’s always shown on tv, the way it has never been with the few other people he’s been with intimately. he expects some big revelation, euphoria, an insatiable need for more.

he expects something to change about him, expects he’ll suddenly have the sexual urges he thinks he’s meant to, that he believes hadn’t yet been incited to have just because hadn’t met the right person.

but there’s isn’t any of that. there’s isn’t anything at all, really—no sparks flying, no fireworks. his heart doesn’t skip a beat, nor does his stomach flip. it’s just… a kiss.

ghost thinks he must be broken.

because he does love soap, he’d be a liar for saying otherwise. he fantasizes about a future with the sergeant, one beyond the plan they both had for themselves to work until they die. he likes when soap touches him, likes that soap isn’t afraid to be physical like everyone else, thinks he could be intimate with soap if he really tried.

except he now realizes that he doesn’t really want to be intimate. not like that, anyway. ghost loves the thought of kisses without heat behind them, loves the thought of curling up in bed together on rainy. he loves the idea of always having soap within reach, of soap plastering himself to ghost’s back as he cooks, of ghost tangling his fingers in soap’s mohawk. domesticity is something he finds he craves to have with no one but soap, but any thought beyond that… he doesn’t think it’s revulsion he feels, but it still leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

but it’s hard to admit to soap he probably shouldn’t pursue this, because ghost couldn’t give him what he needs. what he surely wants. not now, probably not ever, and he understands if it’s a dealbreaker—but soap just gets this odd look on his face, a disbelieving, amused sort of half-smile like ghost had just told him the most outlandish thing.

“i don’t care about sex, if that’s what you mean,” soap tells him. “i want you, simon.”

ghost heart hammers in his chest. “but what if—“

“no what ifs.” soap’s thumbs draw soft lines across ghost’s cheeks. ghost sags at the touch, melts into soap’s warmth. “i mean it. i’m happy if you’re happy.”

“yeah?”

soap smiles bright. “yeah.”

the assurance doesn’t quite soothe all of ghost’s worries, but he’s glad to know he might at least have a fighting chance to love soap just as he wants to.

[sinnerghvst]

having their first house together is great.

ghost and soap both love it, really—both love the ability to orbit constantly around one another, while also having the space if they need time to themselves (not to mention the yard to spar in, or the punching bag in the garage if they really need to blow off steam). they just understand each other so fundamentally, complementing one another the way no one else truly could.

but there is one thing. one thing that irks ghost.

and that is, of course, the ugly vase that soap insists on keeping part of the decor, all because it once belonged to his late nana.

now, ghost can’t say he isn’t guilty of hoarding a few of his family’s old things, but he doesn’t keep it on display like that eyesore of a piece. it’s one of those antique ceramics that has no worth beyond being old and possibly sentimental, all uneven and terribly painted and so gaudy it always draws the eye.

ghost has tried to get rid of it. tried to hide it in storage only for soap to ask about it and go retrieve the vase himself. tried to incite some freak accident to get the thing to break, even encouraged their cat to try and knock it from its perch—but the thing is indestructible. he’s even tried outright telling soap he hates the vase, i love you, johnny, but i can’t keep looking at it. but nothing works.

maybe building a home together is nice overall. but apparently, ghost learns, that also means getting tested by some divine being every day for the rest of his life.

perhaps he’ll have to get some flowers for the vase to make at least some peace with it.

[sinnerghvst]

ghost cannot hide his facial expressions for shit; like he was already pretty bad at it to begin with, but then years of being used to hiding his face with a mask constantly made him accustomed to pulling whatever faces he wants behind that thing

so after he and johnny retire, he stops hiding his face so much, and soap realizes with glee that ghost is an absolutely shit liar. he can modulate his voice as much as he wants but every single thought he has is spread across his face

[sinnerghvst]

some time after ghost and soap finally stop dancing around their feelings and get together, soap notices ghost’s new favourite habit on missions alongside his jokes and their usually flirting: pointing at any unconventional pair of things that might, in some way, resemble them or their dynamic, saying “that’s us” and refusing to elaborate

[sinnerghvst]

SOAP BEING CLINGY

[sinnerghvst]

soap, with complete understanding, knows that he should have talents in stealth for his career. knows that he does have talents in stealth, because if he didn’t, then he wouldn’t currently be on this task force—and for that same reason, knows he isn’t special at all among his teammates to have such a skill.

however. however.

he could never quite describe what it was about it, but something about ghost’s abilities specifically is just… soap really can’t articulate how much he obsesses over them.

it’s in those moments where the callsign namesake becomes more apparent, those moments where ghost can effortlessly kill a dozen enemies without once raising suspicion, those moments where he can lose anyone who might have noticed something was off, that all get soap a little hot under the collar, for a lack of better words, like he’s some kind of blushing maiden.

if ghost is aware of soap’s awe, then he has yet to say anything. if soap wanted to be cruel to himself concerning his little crush, he might say ghost actually plays up the stealth whenever soap is on overwatch.

but whatever. whatever.

soap can and will continue to make up his little fantasies. so long as he’s stealthy, right?

[sinnerghvst]

Bit late for mermay but I just think merfolk are neat anyway so here’s mer Ghost

[sinnerghvst]

stay safe out there 🫡

[sinnerghvst]

Sniper

[sinnerghvst]

ghost’s family is alive but somewhere along the line ghost dies. his funeral is a bigger affair than he ever could’ve imagined. soap manages to show up despite all the threats and thoughts that he couldn’t do it. at a glimpse, soap thinks he see’s ghost again. it’s tommy. the more soap looks though, the more tonmy mirrors ghost. they have the same mannerisms and the same lopsided smile. for a moment, soap gets to see ghost again. his eternal best friend.

[sinnerghvst]

quick colored sketch of the bby

[sinnerghvst]

he'll be back on the team in no time trust me

(also was NOT expecting all the love on the last piece i posted, too shy to interact with anybody even tho it’s all people being so nice?? anyway sorry for yapping BUT WOAH HEY HELLO)

[sinnerghvst]

soap trying to do something sweet and domestic for ghost after a long day, like undressing him before bed so he didn’t have to exert any more energy than he already had. ghost appreciates it, is more than pliant under soap’s fingers.

and it is sweet and domestic… until soap continues to remove various knives from ghost’s person with every layer shed. there’s a collection growing on the bedside table, soap is getting exasperated, and he thinks—no wonder ghost is so tired, having been carrying about a million kilos of weaponry on his person all day

[sinnerghvst]

Soap doesn’t pass right away, has some time in Simon’s arms before he has to say goodbye. Looking up at his favorite shade of brown, thumb gently stroking along a fabric covered cheekbone, he whispers with a warm smile, “I’ll give yer mother and Tommy a hug for ye”

[sinnerghvst]

Motivational 141