#Soap and his family

[snootlestheangel]

🗣️🗣️ no time like the present to get writing!! (coming from someone who.. also.. should be writing..)

but i'd like to hear more about the wolfshifter au idea if you don't mind!! very intriguing stuff

Thank you for the ask, my friend! Now that you have summoned every thought, here is a dump of the wolfshifter au!!!

So, for starters: The MacTavish family and their history of caring for wolfshifters. Since the discovery of wolfshifters about a century ago, there's been a huge stigma against them in the broad scope of modern society. Something about them never really being "human" and are typically reduced to nothing but savage beasts. But Scotland, having a high focus on herding, accepts the wolfshifter population the best. They're not exactly buddy buddy with them, but most wolfshifters find easy work doing stuff for farmers and whatnot. Granted, most of their jobs are like "guard dog" sorts of jobs, but hey, in a world where it's really common for wolves to be fired, refused a job, evicted, etc. just for being a wolf, work is work.

Then came along Great-great Grandma MacTavish. Something happened with her husband and somehow, a wolfshifter was the one to provide the best support for the young family during their difficult times. She ends up convincing her husband to start a business; basically a support/help center for wolfshifters in need. They provide basic medical care, food, clothing, shelter, etc.

Skip to modern day and Soap's family is still very heavily supporting this 'little' business. It's grown a significant amount, obviously, and it's the largest of a handful of wolfshifter care centers in the country, all others younger and operating independently. Soap's parents still run the "soup kitchen" that provide homemade Scottish meals to any and all wolves, no questions asked. Soap's eldest brother and wife are in charge of the medical facility that provides care for both human and wolf form. The brother (Oliver) and his wife run the "human" department specifically, and one of the two MacTavish sisters (Sarah) is in charge of the "wolf" department. Tiffany, the second MacTavish sister is in charge of the housing for displaced wolfshifters.

Side note about wolfshifters in this AU: they all are required to wear identifying tags/have ID chips for what's considered "safety" purposes. Ghost, being the legally dead menace to society he is, no longer wears his ID tags/dogtags (military ones), and because of Roba, his chip had been forcibly removed so he could never be identified; he'd just die a nobody.

Then we got Simon Riley. His father, being the absolute abomination he is, never knew his wife was a wolfshifter until after they have kids. Simon got the brunt of his abuse for being a wolf, and he eventually just became so numb to the abuse he gets from everyone that he eventually stops transforming. So much to the point that Price is not aware of his shifter status, but he's definitely suspicious.

But not as suspicious as Soap. Soap grew up around wolfshifters, and he knows there are certain behaviors and whatnot that are noticeable even in human form. He picks up on a few, albeit very subtle, behavioral traits from Ghost that just scream "wolf" to him, but he knows not to approach him about it. He grew up around wolves that had nowhere to go, no one to go to, traumatized and broken regarding their true nature. Ghost is like a poster child for it, so Soap keeps his distance from that topic.

They still end up having a very unique relationship, but it's not established when Ghost goes missing during a solo mission. Their intel was wrong or something else of the sort and he ended up getting captured.

The problem? They're a group trying to weaponize wolfshifters by forcing them to remain in wolf form. There's a special drug that was supposedly lost/abandoned that can induce transformations in wolfshifters. This group has mutated it to the point that wolves cannot physically transform back into human for several months at a time with only one injection of an amount that's in ratio with body weight and stuff.

ANYWHO

Ghost ends up stuck in wolf-form, he's injured, and he has no clue where he is. Turns out, he's stranded in what's considered the world's "safehaven" for wolfshifters all because of the MacTavish family.

Soap's siblings end up having to take him in, obviously not knowing who he is because he has no IDs or anything.

Basically just a really fluffy and angsty story about Ghost finding family with the MacTavish's and Soap just having absolutely world-destroying realizations of his love for Simon Riley. Ghost being soft with the young nieces and nephews, being fiercely protective of his new found-family

Yeah, I clearly haven't thought about this AU at all. Nope. Not a thought going towards it

[wombywoo]

retired 🩶

[batfamhyperfixation]

Jason: the Batfam member I see most as my brother is Tim

Dick: What!!! That's no fair, I should be your brotherly-ist brother!

Dick: No offense Timmy.

Dick, turning back to Jason: But I am the one who has been your brother longest, I helped you kill that druglord, I even gave you some of my cookie dough last week!

Bruce: uhhh, back to the druglord thing-

Steph: You shared your cookie dough with him!

Jason: Sorry Dick, but there is one thing that makes you brothers more than anything else, not blood, or time, but...

Jason and Tim at the same time: Contempt

Jason: I have contempt for Tim, like all siblings should. Really the only thing I love more than hating Tim is shit talking other people with Tim. That form of contempt is how siblings bond and I will just say, surprisingly I love bonding with Tim even more than I love terrorizing Tim

Tim: aww, I didn't know we were that close

Jason, panicking cause he doesn't wanna ruin their dynamic: *punches Tim in the gut and runs out*

Tim, shouting after him: You can't take it back now, you ass

Jason: *turns around while running to give Tim the middle finger*

[s0fter-sin]

i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

[lights-on-the-ridge]

Simon spent all morning on that damn card😤

[saucywendeee]

👻🧼 - Fantasy AU Dark Mage/Prince

[milkydough]

Soap's dad is hot

[miilkybnn]

roach and his hat, always misplacing it!!! or is he ;)

(ghost and soap don’t have a damn clue about the cowboy hat rule)

[natelia-aldelliz]

1 : Soap never had any idea that woman wanted him carnally, he's not the most observant on that front (he never noticed Ghost flirting with him and thought his love was one-sided for the longest time, but tbf Ghost was also very discreet about it)

2 : He sewed the hat, eyepatch and hook himself, because he's the best uncle and then got distracted as he was wrapping it up, so now he's watching a tutorial on youtube about how to build a voice box. Honestly how hard could it be, he builds explosive devices as a hobby (listen, Price doesn't have to know)

3 : He is out to his family, but doesn't want his mum to know he has a boyfriend because he knows she'll insist on meeting him and welcoming him to the family and making a big deal out of this, and he knows that Ghost isn't ready for that.

4 : Christmas is obviously a very hard time for Ghost, but he is very very in love with Soap and some days still can't believe that it's mutual, but then his Johnny does something like that and his head gets quieter while he's melting a bit.

5 : For the people that didn't see my other post : the bird is a Caique parrot, and they're supposedly very energetic, a bit loud, medium sized, unintelligible, very friendly to what they consider their family, adventurous and danger prone, with an explosive personality and a hate of boredom, so basically the adhd bird.

[shortnotsweet]

In a Week by Hozier ft. Karen Cowley

“The raven is death, obviously. When I die, I want a good tombstone—something right spooky. LT’s got something against the underground, though you’d think that would be just his kind of place. That’s alright. He needs to, he can cremate me. It’s not exactly Catholic, and Mam would turn in her grave, but God is a unicorn and no one is pure anymore, so. What’s all that got to do with me?”

Johnny “Soap” McTavish has a journal. Had. It is his no longer.

Simon “Ghost” Riley had dreams—awful ones, the kind that sank claws into his lungs, dragged him into sleep, and then sent him careening out of it. He still has dreams, but they’re different, now. Better. Johnny’s pages have folded themselves under his eyes and gotten into his head, brighter and more infectious than anything else has ever been. It’s more than the past, that rotting carcass behind him, and more than now. Now is nothing. Now is ash. It’s like, it’s like—blinding, is what it is. He’s a blind man.

It is biblical now. Ghost has read it backward and forward and sideways and inside out. When he runs out of things to read, he reads them again, and when that is not enough, he reads between the lines.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 06

PREVIOUS

Andrew is dragging FF across campus towards where he parked his car and he is kinda of concerned that FF is just like fully letting himself be dragged across campus. I’m talking full on Andrew has a grip on the back of his hoodie, FF is just staring up at the sky, FF’s feet don’t even attempt to stop Andrew from pulling him where he wants to go, and when Andrew looks back FF’s face is just :I

Which even Andrew can admit is kind of weird.

Meanwhile FF is just like ‘The ground hasn’t really gotten cold yet so I’m sure Captain Neil and Andrew could really go to town on the hole they’re going to bury me in. I wonder what gave me away? It was probably the fucking Russian Literature book. I didn’t even like the plot twist in that one anyways. Can’t BELIEVE I’m gonna die due to my love of trashy literature. Thanks Grandma. Wait I’m sorry grandma, I didn’t mean to be rude-“

“Hey Granny Smith! I’ve been looking for you!” A most loathed nickname coming from a most loathed voice. Andrew doesn’t stop towing FF because why the hell would he? FF has never been so grateful to be dragged to his death! Now if only Andrew would break his long standing and well-known absolute refusal to do anything more than walk at a brisk pace.

He sees his step-brother jogging up to him and FF almost turns to Andrew to ask if he could just kill him HERE so he doesn’t have to deal with his step-brother and THEN get stabbed to death in the forest? He can accept that he should have told Andrew and Captain Neil that he knows Russian and the death sentence that rightfully comes with that but like C’MON having to deal with his Step-brother is just cruel and unusual punishment!

His step brother catches up and in a way maybe all the mental torture he’s gone through since coming to Palmetto is a good thing! He really was a novice at the poker face before and now he’s a grand master champion of staring at something that’s gonna SUCK and pretending like he has no idea that it is.

“Whoa there Granny.” His Step brother grabs his arm and tugs him out of Andrew’s grasp. Andrew really had not been paying attention to whatever jack off had been yelling something about apples. So FF getting yanked out of his hand was actually his first indication since FF didn’t say or react at all before. “You’ve been dodging all of Dad’s calls y’know. You still haven’t sent anything that we asked you for, got any excuse for that?!” His step brother demands.

FF looks heavenward because this is, like, so embarrassing. He can feel people stopping and staring at them.

(They were staring before his Step-brother showed up because he was getting visibly dragged through campus by ANDREW MINYARD. Some of his friends who had seen it were already planning a memorial service and candle vigil)

“Nope.” Because he has nothing to say about whatever the hell his step brother is talking about.

“Mom’s heartbroken you know! You haven’t reached out to her once!” he says. 

“I’ll get on that.”

“Are you going to get the stuff we asked you for?! We are family aren’t we? We’re not asking for a lot. Just for you to get tickets to your games for Dad’s colleagues, some autographs from your teammates, and a good word to that bleeding heart coach that we all should get the free ride you’re getting. That’s not too much right?!”

Andrew hasn’t intervened yet but now Andrew is under the impression that FF stopped hanging out because the kid’s family has been harassing him with calls and maybe this isn’t the first time they’ve come in person to campus. That’s why FF has been fading into the background. Andrew’s now under the impression that FF’s family has wanted him to use the Foxes (tickets, autographs, scholarships for his step brothers) and FF had just been pulling away so his asshole family wouldn’t bother the rest of them. That FF may not have been able to cut off contact completely because of a grandparent he was close to.

These are, in fact, the WRONG impressions of the situation at hand. The truth of the matter is that Wymack helped him get a new phone and phone number within 24 hours of getting to Palmetto, it was the one extra that he asked for in his contract and Palmetto is paying his phone bill now. The phone with the number his ‘family’ had just sits charging in a drawer on silent in Wymack’s desk because Wymack is INFINITELY petty when it comes to the things his Foxes are running from.

The other truth of the situation at hand is that Fluent Freshman’s grandma is the only member of his family he talks to regularly and he talks to her almost every single day of his life, she is the only person he can be completely honest with because she knows what a wimp he is and loves him regardless. 

His Grandma is just an EXCELLENT actress. So when his ‘family’ comes over for answers she’ll sigh, stare longingly at a framed photo of FF, and look out the window with a single pre-staged tear in her eye. She wouldn’t give them his new number no matter what.

He loves his grandma even if it was her teaching him Polish, her native tongue, that lead to him getting interested in the other slavic languages that lead him down the deadly path to Russian.

ANYWAYS.

Andrew is under some very wrong impressions but he is also under one very correct impression and it’s the impression that’s the most important anyways.

Fluent Freshman’s family is what made him a Fox and Fluent Freshman’s family are therefore the enemy.

Except FF doesn’t give Andrew the time to pull out his knife, “No, I don’t wanna do that. Bye Greg.” He says, pulls out his student ID, slaps it on a nearby scanner for a STUDENT ONLY building and power walks inside leaving Andrew and his Step Brother alone.

The door shuts behind FF with a distinctive lock and Greg looks at Andrew his face purpling from anger, “You’re going to let me in there and-“

Andrew now has plenty of time to pull out his knife. “You’re going to what?”

Greg swallows and in a show of excellent survival instincts runs the fuck away.

Andrew watches him run before he turns back to the STUDENT ONLY building and heads in himself. He finds FF just inside the doors and he looks tired sitting there against the wall. FF doesn’t say anything to Andrew, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s there. Andrew takes a spot on the wall across from him. People give them weird looks but Andrew is fine with waiting.

He doesn’t mind just sitting in silence with FF again even if the circumstances aren’t what they usually are. So they sit.

FF has blue-screened. The stress of his impending death, of his step brother showing up and saying crazy shit, he blacked out a bit from the stress of being between Andrew and Greg and has no memory of what he said before he walked into this building and then there’s the fact that he just WALKED INTO SOME RANDOM CAMPUS BUILDING (oh god he’s probably not supposed to be in here but Greg is definitely still loitering outside maybe security will be gentle if he just sits right by the exit so they don’t have to go far to kick him out? Maybe he should move near a Different exit so Greg doesn’t see him get tossed like yesterday’s trash? Well he already sat down so now it’s embarrassing if he gets up to just go SIT AT SOME OTHER EXIT.)

So he’s taking a moment to reboot.

Unfortunately his ability to have internal conversations and recognize that someone is there with him is one of the last things that loads.

“It’s fine. I’ve always been the leftover kid. I don’t care that they don’t care. I don’t care either.” He says and it’s a mantra he’s repeated for almost a decade now.

It is definitely not something he thought he was saying out loud in the presence of Andrew Minyard and it is also definitely not something he was SAYING to Andrew Minyard but how the hell would ANDREW MINYARD KNOW THAT WHEN FF IS STARING STRAIGHT AT HIM WHEN HE SAYS IT.

So Andrew thinks it’s the explanation FF is offering about his step brother / family. If there’s one thing Andrew knows the feeling of it is being the ‘leftover’ kid.

The one-sided kinship grows while FF is working on rebooting his vision and getting his heart rate down to a BPM that wouldn’t have medical doctors concerned.

Finally, FF blinks his vision has returned back to him, sees Andrew Minyard across the hall from him, and, by the grace of GOD considering his fried nerves, FF does not flinch.

Andrew doesn’t make any move to grab him and FF decides to take this momentary reprieve that his executor is granting him to shoot off a text to his grandma. “I am so grateful for all the love you have given me throughout my life. I think I’m going to see Dad in the next few hours so please let me know if there’s anything you want me to say to him.” Is what he sends.

(This grandma has gotten almost this exact same text when he had an oral presentation last week. Her grandson is a wimp but she loves him.)

“Are we still going on that drive?” He asks his affairs settled. It’s nice that Andrew let him have a breakdown here and even let him text his grandma his final thoughts. He was willing to use his blood to write out the message but where would he get the paper?

“Yeah, we can go on that drive.” Andrew gets up and offers his hand to FF who looks at it for a long moment KNIVES. THOSE ARE KNIVES. HE USUALLY CONCEALS THEM BETTER? IS THIS HIS WAY OF SAYING HE’S GOING TO BE REALLY MESSY WITH MY DEATH? OH GOD HE’S NOT READY.

(Andrew didn’t really take the time to put his knives back in his arm bands properly because he figured he needed to catch FF before the kid disappeared again. He didn’t think he’d find him just inside the door.)

FF pushes himself up onto his feet.

They get to the Maserati and FF was AWARE that Andrew had a nice car but he hadn’t pieced it together that he’d be doing his last ride in such a nice car. He briefly pauses by the trunk wondering if he should just save Andrew the trouble and climb in himself?

Andrew sees FF pause at the car and figures he’s just being polite not touching Andrew’s stuff without Andrew’s permission. FF is just that kind of guy.

“The passenger seat is available.” Andrew says and alright cool Andrew wants to threaten him first that makes sense.

Except Andrew doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t drive them to a remote location. He’s just driving around Palmetto and FF does not think that Andrew is planning on crashing the car to kill him (He has unfortunately heard Aaron and Andrew have a fight in German when he was waiting for his own appointment with Betsy so he also Is aware what happened to their mom no matter HOW HARD he tries to forget that he knows.)

It’s just actually kind of a nice drive?

“He called you Granny Smith.” Andrew states. (Wondering if THAT is the elusive first name)

“I’m close with my Grandma. My last name is Smith. They’re not that creative.”

“Hm.” (Dammit)

Andrew watches as FF’s shoulders eventually relax until he’s almost falling asleep in the Mas and decides that the drive has done it’s job.

Eventually Andrew parks in front of the tower, tells him to respond to his texts from at least him and Neil, and he is released feeling very much like one of those animals that were released back into the wild after being tagged.

He texts his grandma later “NVM it wasn’t that bad.”

NEXT

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27

[musicalchaos07]

Sometimes a sibling trio can be a self-proclaimed freak with a slight weed addiction, a boy who was demonically possessed and committed accidental homicide, and a girl with psionic abilities ❤️

[dovabunny]

What Mrs MacTavish wants for her birthday

Ever since Soap took Ghost home with him for Christmas (his mom was appalled to hear he had a colleague who wasn't going home for Christmas and insisted Soap invite him) his family had pretty much fallen in love with the man.

Soap can't blame them. He got his sense of judging character from them, after all.

Only thing is he was at least a bit more subtle about his affection, playing the role of beloved subordinate and friend. His dad had given Simon a sweater with "MacTavish" on for Christmas, his sister showed him Soap's baby photos, his brother asked him to come to his graduation next year and his Mother...

[Two weeks after Christmas, back at base]

"Hey Ma, happy birthday! Sorry I couldn't be there."

"That's okay my boy, I understand. How are you doing? How's your friend, Simon? Is he with you?"

"...Ma, he's my lieutenant. And he's fine. Now, back to the topic. What can I get you for your birthday?"

"I want Simon as my son in law."

"...."

"You heard me."

[s0fter-sin]

09 soapghost au, ghost was a member of soap’s unit before roba and they were together until he was taken. when he comes back and takes up the ghost mantle, simon riley is declared KIA and the hope that soap had let kindle in his heart that he’d come back to him dies. he throws himself into training, into becoming captain so he won’t let down another soldier the way he let simon down

then he recruits ghost to the 141 and ghost sees how much he’s changed, how much harder he is; slow to smile, never relaxing and he realises how much he fucked up by never reaching out. he’d thought he’d be better off without him, without the shell of the man he used to love but he’d done nothing but hurt him

after the close call with shepherd, soap wants to get right back into it, wants to hunt makarov down for almost getting his sergeant and lieutenant killed and ghost is yelling at him to just take it easy and heal first when soap snaps back, “i can’t lose anyone else! not again!” and ghost just rips his balaclava off, showing his face for the first time in years…

and soap says nothing. he just looks at him, completely unreadable. ghost clenches the balaclava in his hand, waiting for anything; even injured, soap can still pack a mean punch and he’s waiting for it, almost hoping for it… but he still does nothing. just stares

“well? c’mon!” he growls, stalking in closer. “let me have it! tell me how pissed you are! that i left you alone! that i ruined you the moment i touched you! that you regret ever fucking looking at me! scream, shout, say something!” until he’s leaning over soap’s chair, chest heaving

soap’s hand lifts and ghost can’t help his flinch before planting himself, ready to be struck, longing for it, to be punished the way he punishes himself-

soap’s hand gently cups his cheek and he freezes, breath catching as his thumb caresses the snake bite scars on his lip; feather-light and reverent. just like he used to

“you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you”

[tiddygame]

hello im sorry i wrote more for @myriadblvck ’s streamer au ghoap

I time travelled and around 4,000 words magically appeared in a document titled: "you didn't juju on the fucking beat soap" I think I was possessed by something. anyways here’s that:

tw: is it a panic attack? is it just typical ghost angst? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just be careful it's mostly fluffy (ghost is mean to himself cause he almost kissed soap on the forehead)

also i just realized after i wrote this whole thing, this is based on my general knowledge of dog tags… as an american. writing about the british military. so if you know your shit about the british military, uhh sorry in advance. my bad. from a very brief search i think a lot of it’s the same or at least same enough but this might hurt for people that know a thing or two. whoops!

fun fact: did you know for a brief stint (iirc, >40 years from around 1960s to 2010ish) the american military was printing soldiers’ ss numbers on their tags? yeah can’t imagine why they switched back to serial numbers.

Ghost had been pacing outside of his office for three minutes before he actually entered. When he did, he didn’t say a word. Just sat down in one of the chairs, fidgeting. It wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, he was normally either gathering his thoughts before talking to Price about something more personal or hiding from what/whoever he didn't feel like dealing with.

When it came to mission debriefs, he was clear and concise. However, personal matters were a different story, and based on the way he anxiously opened and closed his hand, he'd guess this was a personal matter.

Price didn’t ask. He knew that whatever it was Simon needed to say would come out eventually. For now, he continued filling out paperwork and trying to figure out what it was that had Ghost so worked up.

Honestly, there wasn't much guesswork involved. Chances were, it was probably yet another leave request. He knew from Gaz (who was such an awful gossip he sometimes wondered how the man made it through interrogation training) that Simon had been visiting some social media person he had taken a liking to.

(Look, yes, Price knew about Twitch and live streaming and everything. He’s not actually that old. However, as long as he kept up the front of the old man who complained about the keyboard on his phone being too small, he didn’t have to deal with social media. Sure, it caused all of them to joke that he was geriatric and on his last legs, but he was able to convince Roach that he doesn’t know what TikTok is, meaning he wasn’t in charge of reviewing all the bullshit he and Gaz posted. A fair trade if you ask him.)

He also knew that Gaz was convinced the two were in love to the point that he and Roach had a bet going to see when they would get together. Price thought it was rather stupid, but he had to admire their ability to keep it under wraps; if the lieutenant found out they’d been placing monetary bets on his love life, he had a feeling he would need to find replacements for the 141.

Regardless, Price hoped that one day Simon would tell him about the friend but, until then, he was happy to fill out any paperwork that would get the poor man off base. God knows that idiot needs a vacation.

Simon was bouncing his leg, messing with his fingers, and staring off into space.

Three of his nervous habits at once? He must be even more worked up about this than Price thought. But, he was a patient man. It was about seven minutes of companionable silence before Simon spoke.

“I need replacement dog tags. I seem to have lost mine.”

Price looked up. He could see the chain around his neck and the outline of them still under his shirt.

"You do?" Price shuffled his documents around, eventually finding a blank piece of paper he could write on.

"Yes sir."

“And do you know what happened to them?”

“I believe they were knocked off during the fight from the last mission. I didn’t notice until later that night when we were back at base.”

Price paused and looked up from where he had been writing.

The last mission had been an odd one. Ghost normally stuck further away, their eagle-eyed lieutenant typically stayed at long to mid-range, watching for hostiles and making sure whoever else was in the field wouldn’t get caught off guard by someone they hadn’t seen.

During the last mission, he decided to engage at close range, a far cry from his usual approach of sniping hostiles from the shadows.

At one point, their lieutenant had been tackled and almost strangled. The fight had pretty much ended, his attacker was the only one left there. Ghost, being The Ghost, dispatched him with ease, but it stuck out to Price. Ghost may prefer to stay further back, but that didn’t mean that his hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking by any means.

He remembered thinking at the time that it was a clumsy mistake, that Ghost would have had to be intentionally trying to fuck up to get knocked down. He assumed the man had just been caught off guard, but he knew that theory wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny. Ghost isn’t one to get caught off guard.

What was stranger yet still was Ghost specifically pointing it out in his mission report, calling even more attention to it.

Price set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“You planned this?”

“I plead the fifth,” said the British man.

Price just continued to stare, curious to see if this was actually going where he thought it was going.

“Is this off the record?” Simon eventually asked.

“Of course,” almost everything the 141 did was of dubious legality. Not reporting a conversation about possible wasted assets was far from the worst thing that had been swept under the rug.

“Then yes.”

“Why?”

Simon didn’t answer. Price waited, giving the man time to gather his thoughts, but based on the way his mouth opened and closed before he slumped in his chair, it seemed he didn’t know what to say at all.

Price had an inkling he might know what this was about.

“You know, Gaz likes to keep me informed,” Ghost looked up at him, somewhat panicked yet resigned, like he already knew what Price was going to say.

“He tells me you have a certain someone you’ve been visiting?”

“Yes.”

“Is this person a friend or…?” Ghost once again paused, calculating the potential consequences of his available responses.

He didn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Price paused, wondering how far to push before he continued, “You want to give this person your old dog tags?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would pre-plan “losing” his dog tags. Price mentally chuckled, leave it to Simon to be such a sap that he wanted to give someone his dog tags yet still make sure to follow protocol so he never actually risked going without them.

He had to hand it to him, it wasn’t a bad plan.

Price had a smile now, knowing his grumpy hard-ass lieutenant had a sweetheart he wanted to be sappy with.

“Romantic or platonic?” Price tried again.

“… I don’t know,” he’d never seen Simon look quite so… forlorn.

Hmm… That would explain his hesitancy.

He was pushing how much Simon was willing to divulge.

“And does this person know the significance of you giving them your dog tags?”

Well, curiosity killed the cat…

“No, they don’t.”

…But satisfaction brought it back. How interesting, the plot thickens.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

There was a long pause, after which it dawned on Price, “You want to give them your dog tags because they don’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, he already knew. Simon somehow slumped further, attempting to hide his face as if he weren’t wearing a balaclava.

His grumpy hard-ass lieutenant. Absolutely smitten with someone yet too shy to say anything, deciding on a quiet confession, one they likely wouldn’t pick up on.

Price chuckled, jotting down the necessary information he would need when he got his hands on the right paperwork, polishing up some of the details of Ghost’s story to make it more believable, before reading off what he had written to Ghost to make sure he got everything right. Ghost nodded once, and that was that.

“Replacement tags will probably be here in two to three weeks.”

“I would like to request leave for two to three weeks from now.”

Price handed him the form, having already grabbed it. He noticed how the man seemed to calm at just the thought of getting to visit his mystery person.

Oh, he thought to himself.

I am definitely joining Roach and Gaz’s bet.

<><><><>

They were lying on the daybed in his streaming room, or, well…

No, that’s not quite right.

Simon was lying on the daybed.

Johnny was lying on top of Simon.

His computer was still softly playing quiet (non-DMCA) music from where his stream had just ended. Instead of turning it off, he had decided to unplug his headset and leave it on, the music just loud enough to be heard.

Simon was sleepily scrolling through his phone, trying to pretend like he hadn’t almost dropped several times while dozing off, desperately trying to stay awake. Johnny had watched his struggle and decided to lay down right on top of Simon, not even trying to pretend like he was trying to fit on the remaining space on the daybed. Why would he when Simon was right there?

It was meant to be a joke, having thrown himself on top of him to annoy the man into sleeping on an actual bed (he claimed he wasn’t tired but the comically loose grip on his phone and the waking world said otherwise.) However, unfortunately for said sleepy man, Simon was very, very comfortable.

His head was resting on Simon’s chest, arms under his back like he actually was just a pillow, one hand reaching higher to feel where Simon’s hair had begun to grow out slightly.

I wonder if he would let me help him cut it…

Simon had said he was like a clingy cat, his free hand running through his hair in the same manner one would pet a cat to prove his point. The joke's on him though, he likes it.

Simon had tried to stop but Johnny didn’t let him, threatening to tickle him if he did.

(“I’m not ticklish, I just don’t want you throwing a tantrum.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” he was definitely ticklish, and one of these days he was going to prove it.)

At some point, Simon had given up on keeping a grip on his phone, letting it drop to the side. They would probably have to go digging through the cushions to get it out of whatever crevice it had fallen to. As of right now, the idea of ever leaving his spot was comical at best.

The sun had begun to set, orange and pink tinted light filtering through the sheer curtains, making everything look more like a dream. Or maybe it was just the proximity to the man below him that was making him feel so serene.

Johnny took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating the moment. He hoped that this memory, this beautiful tranquility with Simon, would be something he cherished for a long time to come.

He knew that they had things to do. Soon, Simon would be catching a flight at some ungodly hour, headed back to save the world yet again. But for now, he was happy to nap away in their own little bubble. He never was a religious man but here in the arms of Simon Riley, he was tempted to think heaven was real, and that it was right in front of him.

“I almost forgot,” Simon mumbled, not sounding any more awake than he looked, reaching up for the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, the hand that was running his hair remained. He didn’t like proving the cocky bastard right, but he probably would have thrown a tantrum had he tried to remove it.

“They had some fuck up along the line or something and accidentally printed me an extra set of dog tags. I was just gonna toss ‘em but thought you might want—”

Johnny was now wide awake, sitting up and yanking the chain out of his hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare throw them away, of course I want them!” Simon’s face reddened, a frequent treat for Johnny now that he had gotten more comfortable going without the mask. Simon might have been good at keeping a poker face, but without his mask, he was a blushing mess.

He wondered if the blush was from his obvious jubilation at the gift or if it was because he was now straddling the man. Such pesky details, however, (even ones that would keep future Johnny awake at night) were far less important than examining the necklace in his hands.

It was obvious this was the older set, the metal worn and dented in some spots though the writing was still clearly visible.

“Calm down, I’m not going to take it from you,” the gruff tone was severely undermined by the aforementioned blush. It was hard to sound tough while half asleep on a daybed and being used as another man’s pillow.

Johnny stared at them for a little bit longer, feeling every dent and wondering the story behind how they got there, before putting them on.

He smiled at the man under him, “How do I look?”

He was going to joke, asking if he looked like a rough and tough soldier ready for war, but something in Simon’s eyes made him stop short.

He was looking with… with… Reverence was far too intense of a word for the softness of the moment but it was the only word that came to mind.

Simon reached up with his hand, grabbing the tags, his knuckles grazing his chest.

Well, that’s just fucking unfair.

Simon was supposed to be the blushy one. Not him, goddammit!

Though, he thinks when they make eye contact, they end up tied for who is blushing the most. They stare for a while, maybe it should have felt awkward but it was too adoring for either to feel any form of uncomfortability.

Neither moved.

It was Johnny that broke first, smiling at him, yet again tracing all of the scars he could see. It was his new favorite hobby, especially when Simon would blush making the scars on his face all the more visible.

He took one more second to sleepily appreciate the man before him, then went back to using him as a pillow. His hands went back to where they were before, one under Simon’s back and one playing with his hair. His head, however, did not fall back to his chest, instead resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Simon’s hand returned to running through his hair, his other now coming up to rest on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before the sleepiness from earlier fully returned with his hand stopping somewhere around the small of his back.

Johnny leaned up slightly and gave a chaste kiss to the part of his neck that he could reach, then settled back to where he was. The hand in his hair paused.

“Thank you, Simon.”

A second of delay, and then the hand continued.

“You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Simon shuffled slightly, getting comfy before—

A kiss, on his forehead.

He couldn’t stop the blush and smile if he wanted to. He snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke, he was in his bed, practically tucked in. His window had been opened slightly, blackout curtains that had been drawn closed now swaying slightly with the breeze. When he focused, he realized he could smell petrichor and hear heavy rainfall outside with the occasional grumble of thunder.

There was a note on his nightstand. As he expected, it was Simon’s handwriting, apologizing for not waking him up before he left. It said that he had made breakfast for him (pancakes, with enough for when his sister would inevitably try to steal them), that he made sure to lock the front door, and left the window cracked.

He giggled sleepily at the last line. Regardless of the context, it always made Simon anxious to have the curtains open, much less to leave a window open. But, he also must've known how much Johnny loved the rain and set his worries aside, just this once, so he could wake up to the rain.

He set the note down and flopped back onto his pillows, his hand felt something cold and he remembered.

The dog tags.

John MacTavish is no stranger to crushes and heartbreaks.

He's had high school sweethearts, been in and out of love, he knows his way around the world of dating. Which is why he most certainly does not squeal and kick his legs while holding the tags like some kid with their first crush.

He did it like a grown man, thank you very much.

He grabbed his phone and sent Simon the worst pun he could think of; it was tradition at this point to send him some god-awful joke before his flight.

Simon has probably already forgotten about the whole exchange. He probably woke up and assumed he threw them away when he noticed he wasn't wearing them. It was probably stupid, an insignificant gesture with no meaning. But to Johnny, it felt like everything.

He sighed dreamily at the ceiling and felt the cool metal once more. Thunder roared outside. He thought about how he had felt in the man's arms. Thought about how much he wanted that again.

God.

His phone dinged and he immediately reached over to grab it.

I'm fucked, aren't I?

<><><><>

Elsewhere, Ghost was in an airport terminal, having far too much time to think.

Over the weekend, it was almost impressive how many times Ghost had talked himself into and back out of giving Soap his dog tags. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Simon felt the spot that Johnny had kissed and wondered if he remembered it. Wondered if he had meant it.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked cradled in his arms when he carried him to his room, the way he had reached out for him when he laid him in bed. The way he had grabbed his wrist and clung to it, grumbling when Simon tried to pull it back.

If asked, he'd say that he had woken up late and that's why he was so far behind schedule. He'd keep the part where he sat there, kneeled in front of Johnny's bed, waiting for him to fall back into a deep enough sleep to pull his arm away all to himself. After all, it would have been rude to wake him up, no?

He had made sure to plug up his phone and, upon seeing the forecasted weather, hesitated before opening the window. It was only barely cracked, just enough for the sounds of the outside world to shamble in, but not so wide as to worry about water damage. He stared at it, convincing himself not to worry and that Johnny would like waking up to the fresh air.

He turned back to make sure the man was still asleep, still comfy, but stopped for a moment. He approached the bed and hesitated before running his fingers through his stupid haircut, almost wishing the man would grab his arm and give him an excuse to stay.

He didn't. Simon did, however, lean in to give him one last kiss on the forehead as some stupidly sappy goodbye, before his brain turned back on and he ripped himself away.

What the fuck is wrong with you? What? He grabs your arm in your sleep so you feel entitled to be able to kiss him?

Simon backed away, staring at the hand that had just been in his hair. He felt dirty.

For fuck’s sake, relax. It's not that big of a deal, you did it earlier; the man fell asleep in your arms, a forehead kiss isn't too much of a stretch.

He went to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands for a while, only stopping when he thought about how much water he was wasting. He still felt dirty.

Not a stretch? You don't get to decide that. How would you feel if someone tried to kiss you while you were unconscious? If they said that they felt they should be allowed to do so because you fell asleep?

He had started making pancakes. Something quick, easy, and reheatable for when Soap woke up. Like making him breakfast would make up for trying to kiss him in his sleep.

Why can't you just be normal?

Eventually, and after a run-in with Soap’s hell-spawn of a twin, he had to leave. The time on his phone showed that he should probably already be halfway to the airport by now but he has always been a selfish man.

He had snagged some paper and left Soap a quick note, hoping the apology would make him feel better about worse sins than not waking him up. It didn't.

He stared at the man for a second, admiring him, before he reminded himself that he was a fucking creep and left.

The storm left the flight delayed by 1.5 hours. Ghost had sat waiting, wireless headphones on and connected, but not playing anything. He had far too much time to think.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked, his dog tags around his neck, silhouetted by the fading light, the sun behind his head as if even the stars knew they could never compare to him.

He stood and started pacing. Amongst the screaming children, feuding families, and people who think they're entitled to listen to their music without headphones, one middle-aged man having an existential crisis didn't stick out.

He thought about how he had never understood weighted blankets so well until Johnny had thrown himself on top of him. It should've hurt. He should've been annoyed. Instead, Simon selfishly hoped he would never get up.

It took him a while to put his finger on what he had been feeling exactly. Finally, he realized.

There, in that moment, he had never been so happy to be alive. It was a startling emotion to discern amongst the swath of negativity he normally felt. It startled him so much, he had snapped out of his reverie and stopped short in his pacing. When he checked the time, he saw he had one missed text from Johnny.

Soap (art streamer): i was trying to think of an airplane joke but none of them landed

Simon chuckled and sat down; he almost forgot about their dumb little tradition.

Ghost: Disliked.

Soap (art streamer): everyone is so mean 2 me 💔

Ghost: It is not my fault your pun was so Boeing.

Soap (art streamer): well i thought i could wing it

Ghost: Did you look up what giving do-

Ghost: About the tags, you

Ghost: I think you make me want to live

Ghost sighed and fell back further into his seat, coming to a conclusion that his subconscious had long ago discovered.

I'm in love, aren't I?

Soap (art streamer): speechless huh? finally, the Wright reaction to my comedic genius

Ghost: Absolutely awful, Mactavish.

Soap (art streamer): :D

Took you long enough, dumbass.

<><><><>

Soap’s twin spent a good bit of time staring at her brother's new accessory.

“Is something wrong?” he challenged, hoping she wasn't in a bothersome mood.

She failed miserably at hiding her shit-eating grin but didn't care.

“Nope!” she replied.

She had run into Ghost early that morning before he left.

"Detergent."

She was pretty sure he never even learned her name, just jumped straight into calling her detergent.

"Ghoul," she greeted, glaring at the man.

Being required by law to not trust him, she checked on her brother as he was still gathering his things and noticed the necklace.

“You gave him your dog tags,” she accused, like she was framing him for murder.

“Yes, I did,” he replied casually, as per usual robbing her of the fight she so desperately wanted to pick.

“Did you tell him what it means?”

“...What does it mean?”

Damn, he was good. If she wasn't convinced that he was the devil incarnate, she might have fallen for his feigned ignorance.

“100 bucks and you buy my silence.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“200 then.”

“It doesn't even mean anything.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might be right… JOHN!” their neighbors were probably going to complain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” ooh he was getting panicked now.

“If it doesn't matter then you won't mind me telling him to look it up,” she started walking to his room, “JOHNSON!”

“Fucking Christ, woman! Just— Fucking— Here.”

He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. Damn, that was easier than she thought.

“What did you say? 100?”

“Nope! That was before inflation. Now it’s 300.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You said 200!”

“So you admit you tried to scam me?”

“Just take the 100 and g-”

She didn't even get to yell, he reached for more before she could finish taking a deep breath in.

“Just shut the fuck up! Here! Three fucking hundred!”

She was tempted to raise her price further, but she was no gambler, she was a strategist. She knew a defeated man when she saw one. If she played this right, she could extort money out of him for a long time to come.

Something, something, vampires not fully killing their victims and all that.

She took the money, counted it, and then held out her hand to shake.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wraith!”

He didn't shake her hand.

“Christ, both of you are awful.”

He packed his stuff and left, broke, broken, and defeated.

She ate as many pancakes as she could, rich and victorious.

She thought about how much power, how much blackmail she had in this moment.

“I’m fantastic actually,” she walked to her room.

I am going to be so fucking rich by the time they get their shit together.

[itwoodbeprefect]

stoic illiterate unwilling assassin deeply in love with unfailingly kind rich sad gay man almost stabs his crush's brother because the brother cares so much and so genuinely for the gay man that he searched assassin's room out of worry and found knives and a mysterious letter before being interrupted by the assassin who then does not want to show him the letter which seems incredibly suspicious, only for a later scene (after the gay man interrupts them and thus stops any escalation from happening) to quietly reveal that the very sus letter in possession of this illiterate assassin is not in fact a sign he's lying about being illiterate.... it's just two pages of him practicing the gay man's name over and over in neatly spaced lines...... a reveal which he was going to STAB a man over because he doesn't know that the gay man's brother knows the man is gay and loves him with his whole heart and would never ever do anything to hurt him........ i will never get over this, how could i ever get over this, everything else ever is going to be downhill from here