#ghost x soap
s3rrrpentine · 11 hours
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men with chicks (ノ・_-)☆
── .✦
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remiebear · 2 days
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Quokkas + Ghost found an apricot :3
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vinnierobot748 · 3 days
Cod men in swimwear,,,,
(Drawn about a year ago, old art, but still one if my faves)
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eiraeths · 2 days
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.
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churchofpossum · 2 days
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Nearly forgot posting this, some summery Haunted Soap I did for supporters.
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ghcstao3 · 1 day
(part 1 of black panther shifter!ghost)
Waking up in a holding cell after two years of freedom from captivity, Soap imagines, is surely disorienting as it is deeply upsetting.
Riley, since having returned to the land of the living, has done little other than pace and sleep, often refusing to eat, and, most notably, completely refusing to shift.
Unfortunately for the brass, this meant getting any sort of information—or, God forbid, getting Riley back into a condition to serve—would be a difficult, and likely time-consuming task. Not to mention extremely unpleasant for Riley, who is in a fragile state as is.
Because a forced shift is probable to cause permanent damage, psychological and/or otherwise, being that the panther, presumably, hasn't once shifted since his initial massacre. A forced shift would be added trauma to already copious amounts beyond it, and Soap could say with near certainty that such a kind of torture would not make any progress, nor encourage Riley to answer any questions.
So, they can do nothing but wait. They can all take their turns talking to him, attempting to coax Riley into a human state, but it's as much as they can do beyond running medical tests and praying for a change of heart.
The hope so far has been that maybe spending time among people will eventually help Riley push past the barriers of base instinct and come to a rational decision.
Soap visits him the most.
Still recovering from his injury, he'd been excused from the physically-demanding work that usually took up most of the time, so he often finds himself wandering to where Riley is being kept to fill those empty hours, though he's taken it upon himself to bring paperwork along to their... meetings.
For the most part Riley ignores him, keeping curled up in the farthest corner as Soap talks to him, talks about work, other things in a calm, low voice. Sometimes he'll still leave distance but peer at Soap from his position, his ears flicking from time to time almost in acknowledgement of something Soap mentions.
And sometimes, though very rarely, Riley will get as close as security measures would allow him and just... sit and listen. He'll make an array of vocalizations in response to anecdotes, and once or twice Soap swears the panther huffs and rolls his eyes like a petulant child if the captain ever so much as implies the suggestion of Riley shifting.
Then Soap begins bringing his journal, once he's slowly transitioning back to his regular duties and no longer needs the tedium of paperwork to keep him occupied—and whether it's a cause of re-conditioning or Riley's own intrigue, this seems to catch his attention, particularly once he realizes that Soap is drawing.
Truth be told, Soap has already been scribbling in entries and sketches of the shifter since he was freshly stitched-up and confined to a hospital bed. He hasn't learned much, of course, so the pictures far outnumber any conclusions—but Riley's an intriguing subject. And only in person does Soap figure he could ever remember the details of the shifter's scars interspersed in thick, black fur.
He's unsure if Riley would appreciate it, at first, but once he sees what Soap is up to, it's like a switch has flipped in his social behaviours. The first time Soap actually turns to show Riley his most recent sketch, an image of the panther stalking his prey as he had Soap all those weeks ago, Riley startles him with not-unkind chirps. A major improvement, if Soap had any say, from the usual snarls and grumbles.
They make progress again in such a fashion until they reach another halt, and nothing else has changed for a while, and Riley still doesn't do much but pace, sleep, sometimes eat, and never shift. Though, at the very least, anyone could now make the observation that his mental state has certainly improved.
By now, Soap and Riley have built up a routine. Soap will come by at the same time every day, Riley will—most days—give those panther non-answers of his, Soap will offer a sketch or two, and then he leaves, though not without imploring Riley to eat something, because he knows, beyond a doubt, that he won't have earlier. He's stopped asking for a shift, because he's come to understand that it will have to be entirely by Riley's terms.
Really, Soap has come to understand and learn a lot of things concerning the shifter, despite Riley's lack of conversational abilities.
The captain already knew, based on files alone, that Riley's behaviour did not stem from nothing—the exact opposite, in fact. He already knew that something happened to set him off, that was obvious to just about everyone, but it becomes so clear to Soap that Riley felt like he had no other choice, if he wasn't already overrun by the animalistic part of his brain by the time he made his escape. It was self-imposed isolation and doing what he thought was right, or ultimately be rejected from the society and organization that had abandoned him.
Then time went on, and he lost himself.
And Soap finds it so easy to empathize with that; with the losing of oneself; with digging that impossibly deep hole because it's self-containment or it's the harming of others.
It's a last-ditch ever to ask Riley just once more if he'd shift, once they hit that next, final, truly impenetrable wall. Riley merely stares at Soap a moment, soaking in the captain's own fatigue, before turning his back and going to lay down as far from Soap as possible.
He isn't prepared for the day Riley actually shifts.
No one notifies Soap of anything throughout the day, and nor is there any activity abuzz where Riley has been contained—so Soap can only assume he was meant to be the first to confront it.
It's... jarring, is what it is. Having adjusted so well to his expectations of seeing a black panther and not a human, it takes a moment for Soap to process the pale figure curled up against a wall, naked as the day he was born.
Despite the raw power and musculature of the panther, Riley looks so small. And so terribly, heartbreakingly young. His eyes, however, which appear when he hears the scuff of Soap's shoes against cool cement, look withered, haunted. Far more aged than he physically is.
"You've finally shifted," Soap remarks.
Gradually, Riley unfurls himself, all his scars still so stark on his skin. A large Y-shape is carved into his chest and down his stomach, the scar still pink and puckered and gnarled after at years of healing. The recognition of its nature is not at all a happy revelation.
Riley opens his mouth to speak, but a frown is quick to etch itself onto his face with the frustration of being unable to conjure any words. That is about the only thing that doesn't surprise Soap about this.
"Give it time," he assures. Soap lingers a moment longer on his assessment of Riley and that scar, before collecting himself and clearing his throat. "Let's get you some clothes, then, aye?"
Silently, Riley nods. That piercing, mismatched gaze is still somehow just as predatory and calculating as it is in his feline form.
There will be, beyond a doubt, a lot more work to do.
But for now, Soap heads off to fulfill his promise—and maybe let Price know what's happened on his way.
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sixishungry · 1 day
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Soap he's gonna beat the shit out of you if you dont stop looking at him like that fr
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skulldetergent · 1 day
ghost, just chilling while watching TV: ...
soap, sitting on his lap and taking ghost's glasses off to get his attention: simon-
ghost, not amused: you bastard, do you want me to remove your hearing aids every time i want your attention?
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darth-mortem · 2 days
Today is my Birthday!
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hokkeis · 24 hours
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Drawing them because crying over them is for losers😎 (cries)
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simonzmama · 14 hours
sweet loves helloooo!! i will be getting to your asks tomorrow cuz im so very exhausted but i hadda get the daddy simon thoughts outtta my mind or i couldn’t sleep!! i promise im not ignoring you lil angels!! 😚 sleep well n wish the bestest of days for any n all of you!! kisses hunnys 💋
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remiebear · 1 day
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Chonky little sloths ✨️✨️
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sudzymactavish · 3 days
what if there was ghostsoap who already started a relationship before reader joins team, and then we come into the picture and they have this moment of realization where they both like us.
What if soap is an omega and ghost is a beta. But ghost has always insisted for his entire life that he *only* dates omegas and not alphas because he's not comfortable with dating an alpha. Alphas are usually seen as arrogant people who only view other genders as inferior housewives/househusbands, and ghost doesn't like people looking down on him. But alpha reader doesn't treat them like that at all. He's not arrogant, he respects and treats everyone with equal standing regardless of what their dynamic is.
Reader joins the team and he doesn't look down on anyone for their dynamic, he's the right balance of being kind and caring for the team, while also never thinking of other genders as "weak" and acknowledging that betas and omegas in the team can take care of themselves.
And ghost has never been so attracted to an alpha before and maybe he struggles with his feelings, before realizing that soap feels the same way about reader as he does. Soap and reader probably hit it off right away while ghost is just a little bit more hesitant. And it builds up until they both feel drawn to reader enough to consider possibly asking him to join them.
This could be fluff, smut, angst, slowburn, or anything really. Whatever direction you want to go with it! You don't have to include everything, I was just giving ideas!
(This went a bit away from your idea, so i hope you dont mind! I tried to stay to the plot as much as i could 🤞. Just for some context, omega and alphas aren't usually on teams in this universe because of heats and ruts getting in the way of performance, so that's why most of them are betas except for Johnny and y/n)
The second Ghost heard of an Alpha joining his team, he wasn't the happiest. Awh lad, it's no' tha' bad. I'm sure he'll be nice. Ghost grumbled as Johnny cooed softly at him, laying a hand on his back. Johnny. You know how I feel about alphas. You know the last time I was on a team with one of em. Roba was an alpha who horribly mistreated Ghost, even mutilating his scent gland for some sick pleasure. Ghost rubbed where his scent gland was supposed to be, a lump in his throat starting to form as he spoke again. He took my scent away. I don't want any alpha near me anymore. Not ever again. Johnny sighed, laying his head on Ghost's shoulder. And I don't want that to happen to you or Gaz or even the cap'n for christs sake. I dont want that to happen to anyone on this team because of a fuckin- johnny held his hand and ghost looked at him, with the anger still burning deep in him. Johnny raised his hand up further and caressed Simons cheek. Tha' will never. Happen again. Do ye hear me, Simon. Ghost's Simons gaze softened and hugged his mate tightly.
Eventually, the day came for you to arrive. You stepped off the helicopter, meeting the bright sun above you and a Beta named John Price. Well hello y/n! Welcome to the 141 base. Let's get you inside. He greeted you, patting you on the back. You got into the meeting room, Ghost instantly tensing up at the smell of an Alpha. Johnny rubbed his hand and murmured under his breath, it's alrigh' bon. Jus' breathe. John put a hand to your shoulder and spoke, a proud smile on his face. Well boys, we've got a new man on our team. This is y/n, and he's a [skill] expert. I expect you all will help him? Gaz and Johnny responded yes sir. Ghost kept a watchful eye on you as you trained with Johnny.
You seemed very strong for someone who had just joined the team, but after all you had training before this. He scowled whenever you got a bit too close, or touched anything that his mate did. So, he was scowling the entire time. That is, until your hand accidentally touched soap's.
He stood and walked over to you. Get your hands off my mate. He scowled, looking into your eyes. You stopped and looked at him. "Oh, I'm sorry Ghost. It won't happen again." You walked away without another word. Wait, what?
Ghost stood there in disbelief. How could an alpha (who's almost bigger than him for that matter,) be so... nice? But just Johnny smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. He's a nice lad. Ya like him too? Ghost stood there, mostly confused. ...he's fine I suppose. As the weeks passed on base, ghost only got more and more confused.
You were nice.. too nice. Too nice for an alpha man. He was cautious around you, and didn't speak to you. When you spoke to him, he'd just walk away. All that changed of course when he couldn't reach something on a higher shelf that he couldn't reach. When he saw you approach, he rolled his eyes. "Need some help?" You asked. He grumbled something under his breath, but did point to what he needed. All you did was smile and hand it to him, walking away. You didn't insult his height. You didn't make a snarky remark about him being lesser or a beta, you just helped him. He felt his heart flutter a bit.. he was growing a soft spot for you.
As more time passed, ghost slowly got more accustomed to you. You both even became friends. Playing cards, shooting games, maybe even a cheeky game of golf before cap'n found out... One day, you and Ghost got a bit carried away with a drinking game. You and Ghost sat in the nightly grass, a soft wind blowing through your hair. You both shared a Jack Daniel's whiskey bottle. "You know, Ghost.. I remember when I first came here." Ghost looked at you, listening. "You did not like me." You chuckled, taking another swig of the alcohol. Mhm... I remember. He blinked, the alcohol influencing his confession. Y'know.. I don't like alphas. You looked at him. "Why's that?" You asked, laying in the soft grass and turning over to look at him. When I was younger, I worked for an alpha. He took another swig of the whiskey. He mutilated me, taking away my scent. That's why I didn't like you. He admitted, showing you where his scent gland should be, in its place was a horrific scar in the shape of an x.
That pretty much took you out of your drunken state. "Oh my god." He looked at you with a look. "No- not like that. I'm real sorry that happened to you. I promise I'd never hurt anybody. Beta, omega, or alpha, I'd never do that. Man, I'm so sorry that happened. I swear not all alphas are like that. If i can do anything to make you feel better or less scared of me let me know." Ghost blinked, hearing compassion and empathy from an Alpha. He blushed. Thanks. That's uh.. nice of you. You spoke again. "No, Ghost, don't say thanks for that. It's the least I could do." You put a supportive hand on his shoulder, offering a smile. It's Simon. "What?" He spoke again. My name.. he stopped, taking a deep breath. Despite his better judgment, he opened his mouth. My name's Simon. Ghost's my callsign. You smiled. "That's a nice name, Simon." With your voice saying his name, he felt his heart flutter as his face got hot. Thanks. I like your name too, y/n. Now you both felt a strong connection, like it was just you and him and the night sky.
The next day, Ghost met with soap. Johnny, can I borrow you? Ghost asked, tapping his boyfriend on the shoulder while the omega shot his prized gun in the base shooting range. I need to talk to you, love. Ghost said, as soap johnny put his gun down. Ya? What's it, bonn? He asked, as they both stepped outside of the range. I.. I need to talk about y/n.
Johnny's face contorted into worry. What do ye mean? Did somethin happen? Yer tone is scarin' me. Ghost shook his head. No. It's not like that. He comforted, but still feeling anxious himself. How was he going to tell his mate that he had feelings for someone else, but also deeply inlove with him? Ghost backed down. Nevermind. He began to walk away, but Johnny stopped him. Tell me what's up, bon. I'm here to listen. He took a deep breath. I have feelings for y/n.
Johnny did seem sad at first, his demeanor deflating. Oh.. Ghost quickly talked again. I still want to be with you, Johnny. I love you. But.. I also love y/n. I was wondering if you'd be okay with a polyamorous relationship. Johnny blinked. Ghost held his breath, hoping he didn't just make his omega uninterested. I'd... I'd have to think about it. Ghost felt a strong pang in his chest, feeling the guilt of making his mate upset. He wanted to make it better, say something that would make him feel better. He decided to keep his mouth shut for now. He didn't wanna make his omega feel worse.
The next few days were uneventful. No missions happened so it was just Ghost sitting alone, his subconscious eating him up with the guilt that consumed him. His head was in his hands, his tea untouched in front of him. A body sat across from him, his eyes looking up to see you and Johnny. "Hey Simon." You said, your soft voice anchoring his thoughts back to the present. He looked up. "Me and Johnny talked. A lot. And we've both decided that yes, we'd love to be in a relationship with you as the 3 of us." Ghost's Simon's heart slowed from its anxious beating, smiling. You 3 were now a happy couple, ready to take on anything, together.
I'm sorry the ending isn't amazing but I'm honestly burnt out 😭
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eiraeths · 2 days
soap: so glad it’s sundress season my balls get sweaty in these jeans
ghost: [staring incredibly hard]
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would gay sex fix them?
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ghcstao3 · 3 days
writing a little something for this black panther!ghost because of a scene while playing sottr lol
(edit: part two)
Facing death on a regular basis is something Soap had made peace with a very long time ago. It's merely the nature of his occupation, something he chose for himself, and so he'd be a fool to not accept that his life would often be put in danger of being ended.
That being said, Soap's never been particularly fearful of such a kind of loss anyway—or, he wasn't, until he's staring directly into its bloodthirsty maw.
The mission was already interesting to begin with. They—being Price's merry little band of soldiers deemed task force one-four-one—had gone into it knowing it was risky; tracking a feral shifter would be difficult as is only in part due to it being outside their usual duties, but that shifter then being a big cat and ex-SAS soldier with little regard to distinguish enemy from ally increases that danger by tenfold. Soap found himself poring over the details, intrigued by everything that led to the point of finally sending out a team for detainment.
Supposedly—because nothing was technically confirmed—this panther shifter, name Simon Riley, had been held hostage by a cartel for some time, after a mission gone wrong. Retrospective details and investigation hinted at experimentation and brainwashing along with the usual anticipated torture, but it's difficult to be certain of anything when, somehow, Riley escaped and singlehandedly slaughtered everyone in the facility where he was kept.
The amazing part, Soap thinks, is that Riley had gone completely undetected until he'd killed a friendly, still stuck in a mind of base instinct. Intel speculates he'd been patrolling the jungle surrounding the facility for a little over two years now, fending off anything his animal brain deemed a threat.
So it was safe to say the mission would not be simple. Capturing Riley would only be the beginning, if they could even manage so much.
Sweat beads uncomfortable and sticky on Soap's skin in the muggy climate of the jungle, welcoming dirt and gnats to glue themselves to his limbs. He's never been one for humidity, always more partial to the arid sort of heat, but there's certainly an added level of unpleasantness when it feels like he's being watched.
Soap readjusts the grip on his gun, and trudges onward.
"Any activity on your end?" Price's voice cuts through his paranoid silence, startling as the ferns that brush against his arms.
Soap pauses his stride, gaze skirting across the seemingly endless forest; it still is, as it has been for the past however long, a mostly unmoving wall of greens and browns beyond the gentle sway of foliage in a barely-existent breeze and the occasional bird taking flight, or small critter scampering between hiding places.
"Negative," he says. “What’s it—“
He's about to ask the same of his fellow captain's own position when he hears the low growl.
It's deep, guttural, and—most importantly—entirely and undoubtably a threat.
Soap couldn't even think to turn and lift his rifle before he's dodging out of the way of the panther's lunge. Even if it were a real bullet and not a strong tranquilizer, Soap doesn't believe it'd help his chances of survival anyway.
At most he'd buy himself time, and that'd hardly count for anything with a feral and angry shifter to then pursue him and the rest of the team, when they inevitably crossed paths.
He narrowly avoids the follow-up attempt on his life as the panther pivots much faster than anticipated, now a snarling mass of fangs and claws as it stalks closer every time Soap puts distance between them. The gun still tight in his grip, it seems, isn’t any kind of deterrent—proven especially soon when the shifter acts quickly, quicker than Soap, and manages to tackle him to the ground.
The rifle is the only barrier keeping Soap from being torn apart, though he feels a seeping warmth somewhere on his torso that tells him sharp claws have found their home somewhere in his flesh. Soap struggles against pure strength of the creature, gritting his teeth as he pushes back and tries to wriggle free.
Distantly, over the rumbling and hissing, Soap can hear the others crashing through the forest, calling out his name in search of him. The sound distracts the shifter momentarily enough for Soap to escape—however getting his rifle knocked from his hands—and when he sits up it’s with a nauseating pain in his side from where he’d been caught, and is currently bleeding a concerning amount.
He can’t stand without stumbling, and is merely left with the hopes his team might reach him in time to keep him from getting mauled. All he can do is scramble backwards to create distance and delay his obvious fate.
Maybe he’s only so scared of death now, because he’d always believed his own would be swift and relatively painless as a cause of it, given his line of work.
Soap’s back hits the thick trunk of a tree. He winces, trying to swallow the growing panic as the panther begins to creep toward him, steady and calculating. He breathes in, exhales slowly through his nostrils, lifting his chin and baring his teeth in return though he knows damn well he’s trembling.
The shifter is close now, too close, huffing softly as he looms over Soap. Intelligent but wild eyes bore into Soap’s own gaze, the mismatched irises surely a point of intrigue if his life were not in immediate peril.
But the shifter just… stops. Stares at him almost in consideration, and for a moment Soap could persuade himself to believe he sees just a glimpse of the humanity that had been forgone two years prior.
Soap tries not to shrink back as the panther leans in to sniff him curiously, his face so close Soap can feel the shifter’s whiskers tickle his face, can smell the iron and blood of the meat of his previous meal. But then the panther is retreating with a more gentle growl in his throat, miraculously willing to spare Soap despite his track record.
Soap hears the telltale thwick of a tranquilizer embedding itself in the shifter’s pelt, then a couple more following for good measure. For only a brief moment does the aggression return before the big cat is slumping to the ground.
Price calls it in while Roach helps Soap up, employing Gaz’s help to wrap Soap’s wound as best as is manageable until he can get the proper medical help.
Dutifully Soap offers what answers he can, but finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from the shifter.
There’s more to this story than they had intel, and he’s more than certain there’s more that they haven’t been told, more that’s being kept from them.
And just as well, Soap figures there’s a reason he’d been allowed to live, unlike so many others—and he finds himself knowing, then, that he wouldn’t rest until he understands why.
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