#ghostxsoap | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mopeymi · 1 year

Text

Ghost/Soap AU where ‘09 Soap and Ghost are teleported to ‘22 Soap and Ghost through some sort of enemy technology. ‘22 Ghost soon becomes infatuated with ‘09 Soap, realizing the man’s reputation he must have back in their timeline to be so well respected by ‘09 Ghost AND be a Captain. Whilst trying to figure out a way to send the ‘09’s back, Ghost spends his extra time learning from his new superior, seeing him as a highly knowledgeable man that he can learn from, more than anything.

‘22 Soap doesn’t see that, however. He sees ‘22 Ghost and ‘09 Soap spending most of their time together, soon feeling replaced and disregarded. Every time the two ‘22’s have time together, Ghost speaks of Captain Soap’s achievements, his usually cold demeanor shifting into a certain fondness Sergeant Soap feels threatened by. Soap never lets the other man know, however. He would never want his Ghost to see him as ‘jealous’ or ‘desperate’, since that’s not what was happening.

Jealousy definitely, but that he would never admit out loud. It’s just that his Simon is the only one who made him feel seen and heard, that his constant jabbering wasn’t annoying or over the top. He teased him about the Mohawk but Soap knew he was fond of the look because he would muss it up sometimes after Soap managed a particularly hard shot or they had a successful mission. The two bantered and bickered constantly, their conversations over comms somehow teetering too far on the edge of legitimate flirting. Simon was his first true friend, the one he knew would always have his back.

“Be careful who you trust, sergeant. People you know can hurt you the most.” Soap never thought he’d see the day Ghost would be the one to make him feel betrayed. Though perhaps he was being melodramatic about the whole thing. Yeah, that’s what it was. Everything would go back to normal once the ‘09s went back to their timelines.

So Soap did what Soap did best; hyper focus and hyper fixate. He engrossed himself in trying to figure everything out, struggling with certain aspects of the science and technical side, but Gaz, Price, and Laswell were a huge help. Dont get him wrong, he also thoroughly enjoyed the company of the ‘09 Ghost, but not as much as his own Lieutenant. The two spent a lot of their time together too, working hard on trying to fix the problem together, though they only talked about shallow things. He had basically been ignoring ‘22 Ghost in favor of not having to hear how much better his Scottish counterpart was.

It wasn’t until one night, Soap having not slept for around 36 hours, that his ‘22 Ghost walked in. The man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, ignoring his tired and angry Scottish protests. He tried to wriggle himself free plenty of times, but Ghost only tightened his hold on him, moving him into a more manageable and controllable position.

They walked past the common room where the ‘09s sat, fiddling with something on an iPad. ‘09 Soap gave the two a knowing look, nudging his Ghost with his elbow and motioning to their direction. Soap was confused by the action, drawn into overthinking it and not realizing Ghost had brought them to his barracks room.

His superior unlocked the door, gently pushing the still-angry Scot in.

“Ghost, what the fuck?” He exclaimed, arms crossed in confusion and a form of protection.

“Johnny-“ Ghost began, Soap only shook his head as he made his way to the door.

“I’m busy, Ghost.” Ghost stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, staring him down until Soap couldn’t handle the eye contact anymore and ducked his head away.

“You are going to sleep, Soap.” He demanded, hand guiding the man to his bed. Soap could only stare at it the more he was pushed forward.

“Ghost, I-I can’t. I have to get it figured out, get them back and-“

“Why are you so adamant about them leaving?” Ghost cut him off, accent rough out of aggravation. Soap flinched. He finally had a chance with Ghost, alone, and he already aggravated the man.

“They just… You’re right. I should sleep.” He moved towards the bed, sitting down to start untying his boots. Ghost looked over him, standing unmoving with his arms crossed, then he bent down in between the scots legs, parting his knees gently and staring up at him.

“Why are you so adamant about them leaving, Johnny?” He asked again, softer this time. Soap could only stare back at the soft, brown eyes, willing his face not to flush. He didn’t want to answer, to lay his selfishness bare in front of the one man who had a tendency to break him down. He had earned ‘The Ghost’s’ respect and now he was about to lose it simply because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check.

“They don’t belong here.” Soap settled on saying, trying to push Ghost away so he could continue working his boots off. The other simply swatted his hands away and starting untying the boots for him.

“They have as much right to be here as we do.” Ghost stated, pulling off one boot successfully.

“Ghost… this isn’t their timeline.” Soap sighed, feeling tears well up in his eyes. Ghost was going to fight him on this, all because he preferred the other Soap. Because this Soap wasn’t established enough. All because ‘22 Soap-

“Outta your head and into the bed.” Ghost stated, somehow wrangling the Scot out of his jeans and leaving him clad in only his t-shirt and boxers. He pushed Soap back into his bed, working the blanket over him, “This isn’t their timeline. That is correct, but they’re us Johnny.”

He simply stated as he moved to take his own boots off. Soap sat up at the action, watching the other man carefully, “Have you ever asked Captain Soap how he got to where he is, Johnny?”

Soap grumbled under his breath, shaking his head no at the man and hoping he could see it out of the corner of his eye.

“The other Ghost used to be his superior, the two getting paired together on an anti-terrorism mission. Just like us, Soap.” Soap nodded for him to continue, scooting back as Ghost made his way into the bed as well, “The mission went to shit and Ghost ended up getting hurt, shot in the shoulder by a betrayer.”

Soap’s shoulder gently throbbed where he was shot by Graves. His heart thumped heavily in his chest as Ghost pulled him closer to him, tucking Soap’s head under his own and placing his chin on the crown of his head.

“Captain Soap got him back safely, the two being placed together on assignment to go after the bastard that fooled ‘em. Their Ghost was up for promotion after, but he declined since Soap had shown more initiative and better leadership skills. He didn’t feel like he deserved the position and he knew Soap was a much better man than him.” Ghost gently grabbed Soap’s chin, guiding his eyes to meet Ghost’s. Some time between laying down sand tucking Soap into him, he had removed his mask. Soap stared into his brown eyes, face completely revealed to him, “I would give up everything for you, Soap. You don’t want to be better than me, Johnny. You are better than me.”

Soap felt his eyes tear up at the admission, gaze drifting to the soft, plush lips so close to his. They moved closer together, meeting in a soft kiss. Soon after, they fell asleep. There were no more words said, none felt needed.

After that, Soap didn’t feel threatened anymore. He slowed down on his research, spending time with the other versions of themselves and learning as much as he could about their timeline to help and prevent some of the things that could occur.

No one would be prepared for the heartbreak that would happen after they were transferred back. No one knew of their own fates after.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghostxsoap #slight angst #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty mw2 #09 ghost #2009 soap

295 notes · View notes

mythicalmisery · 7 months

Text

Fighter/Artist AU : GhostxSoap

Soap quickly made his way from his last lecture to his motorcycle sitting in the parking lot. Knocking over anyone who stood in his way, earning him a few choice words as he practically sprinted down the halls. He had three midterms that week and was fucking exhausted. One would think that being an art major would be less stressful, but that was wishful thinking.

He slid his helmet over his slightly grown-out mohawk, lifting the kickstand and setting off on that familiar drive to the other side of town he took every week. Soap had a particular affinity for sketching real-world objects and people. He believed that capturing the human form, with all its complexities and intricacies, was one of the most challenging and rewarding aspects of his craft. To hone his skills, he sought out places where he could observe people in their most natural states and one of his favorite places for this purpose was Price's MMA boxing gym.

Price's MMA gym held a special place in Soap's heart. It wasn't just a place for fighters to train and beat the shit out of each other. Soap had practically grown up within the confines of that gym, having spent his high school days cleaning it after hours in exchange for some pocket change. It was during that time that he earned the nickname "Soap" because of the way he scrubbed the floors and equipment spotless.

One of the main reasons Soap loved the gym was the owner, an old family friend, retired military captain John Price. Price had been a mentor to him, teaching him valuable life lessons and discipline. Soap considered him a father figure, especially after his own father had passed away when he was just a child.

Soap’s best friend, Gaz, was among the gym’s most dedicated fighters. Gaz had dreams of making it big in the world of UFC, and he trained tirelessly, leaving no room for distractions. Despite their different paths in life, Soap and Gaz remained close friends even as his career started to take off. Soap often joined in on his training sessions and sketched Gaz as he practiced his punches and kicks, capturing the intensity of the man's movements.

Every week, Soap would visit the gym, finding a comfortable spot in the corner, sketchbook in hand, and losing himself in the world around him. He sketched the fighters as they sparred and practiced. Each line and shadow made with his pencils captured their movements and forms on paper forever. The clanging of weights and the thudding of punches in the background became a form of comfort for Soap over the years. Easy to get lost in the symphony of noise.

This particular day, he noticed something was off as soon as he stepped foot in the gym. It was uncharacteristically quiet. Everyone standing around was talking in hushed voices and whispers. As Soap sat down in his usual corner, he instantly noticed the subject of everyone's attention. A newcomer, and a striking one at that. Blond hair, tall, and with a physique that could only be described as imposing. Soap recognized him from one of the hundreds of fights he was forced to watch every week with Gaz. His name was Simon “The Ghost” Riley and he was quickly becoming a rising star in his weight division. Sports networks raved about him and were labeling him the next big thing in the world of mixed martial arts. He was talking with Price in the corner of the ring, Gaz also joining them off to the side. If he remembered correctly, the man was from Manchester. Price had mentioned wanting to bring in more talent, guess it finally happened.

For three whole weeks, Soap couldn't tear his eyes away from Simon Riley. There was something captivating about him, something that drew Soap in like a moth to a flame. Simon's powerful physique and the way he moved in the ring were a sight to behold. He quickly became Soap's favorite subject to draw, and he couldn't help but blush every time he caught himself focusing too hard on the details of Simon's impressive figure. Gaz certainly never let him forget it after casually flipping through his drawings one day and noticing a recurring theme. He had offered to introduce Soap to the man but he swiftly denied the invitation, painfully aware that the fighter was well out of his league.

It was during the fourth week of his new infatuation that shit hit the fan quickly. Soap had been lost in his sketches like normal when he felt a sudden tug on his sketchbook. It happened so suddenly he was powerless to stop it. Startled, he looked up to find the one and only Simon Riley holding his sketchbook with an unreadable expression on his face. Flipping through the multiple pages filled with sketches of himself.

"Seems like I have a stalker," Simon teased, his lips quirking up into a playful smile.

Soap's cheeks flushed crimson as he stammered, "I-I'm not a stalker. I just... I’m an art student, I come here to practice, I swear”

Simon chuckled, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, you're quite talented,” he admitted, still studying the sketches. “These sketches are impressive.”

Soap was still furiously blushing as the man handed him back his sketchbook. Soap couldn’t believe he was having a conversation with Riley, he was even more intimidating up close.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry” he managed to say, his voice a tad shaky.

Simon’s teasing grin softened into a warm smile. “No need to apologize. I’m flattered, actually. Not every day I meet an artist who appreciates my…assets.” He winked, making the man's blush deepened even more. How cute. He mercifully decided to let Soap off the hook and started to back away.

“The name's Simon, Simon Riley, by the way.”

“I know who you are,” the man stated, causing that lopsided grin to reappear on his face.

“And does the artist have a name?”

“You can call me Soap.”

“Soap? What the hell kind of name is that?” Simon chuckled.

“It’s a nickname, you haven’t earned the real one quite just yet.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Soap,” the Brit said as he turned to head back to the training mats.

From that day forward, whenever Soap visited the gym, he couldn't help but steal glances at the fighter whenever he could. And it seemed that Simon was just as intrigued by Soap. He began to pay more attention to the artist in the corner, watching him sketch with a keen interest. He would often strike up a conversation with Soap between training sessions, asking about his art and life outside the gym. Soap found himself drawn not only to Simon's physical presence but also to his genuine interest in getting to know him. One day, after finishing his training session, Simon decided to take their interactions a step further.

He leaned up against the ropes of the ring, that stupid smile plastered on his face. “Hey, Soap,” he called out, beckoning him towards the mats with a toss of his head.

Soap blinked in surprise. “Me? In the ring?” He asked, his voice wavering slightly with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Simon just grinned and nodded his head back at him. “Yeah, why not? Just some light sparring. It will be fun.”

Soap hesitated, but the prospect of getting into the ring with his crush was too enticing to resist. To be that up close and personal with the man. He slowly shook his head and made his way to the ring. Rolling under the ropes and hopping up to face Simon who had that beaming smile aimed at him. It took everything in him not to melt right through the mat.

“If I pin you, you tell me your real name. Deal?”

“Yeah cause that’s bloody fair coming from the professional fighter,” Soap scoffed back.

“Ah, don’t sell yourself short Soap, you seem like you know your way around the ring” Simon embellished with a wink. Cheeky bastard.

Soap watched countless sparring sessions, but had never imagined himself as one of the participants. To his surprise, he held his own quite well, showcasing a natural talent for the sport. Maybe spending years in the gym watching fighters had taught him more than he realized. Simon seemed impressed by his movements and techniques. His usual playful demeanor was giving way to genuine respect, even though he was going easy on the artist. They exchanged blows, both men sweating and grinning as they moved around the ring.

As they sparred, Soap couldn’t help but stare at the man's body before him. The taught muscles shifting under his tight black athletic wear. Yeah, this was a bad idea. He glanced up at Simon's face, noticing the mischievous glint in Simon’s eye. Fuck. He definitely had been caught ogling the man's body.

Suddenly, without warning, Simon hooked his left leg around Soap's ankle, sending him sprawling to the mat. Before he could even register what happened, Simon was on top of him and pushing down all his weight. He was trapped.

Soap struggled beneath Simon’s crushing bulk, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “You… you did that on purpose. I was distracted,” he accused, though he couldn’t hide the hint of a smile on his face.

Simon laughed above him, his eyes locking onto Soap’s with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. “Maybe I did,” he admitted, leaning in closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “But I have to say, I like seeing you blush.”

Soap’s heart raced as he realized the proximity between them. Simon leaned in, his lips hovering just above Soap’s, leaving no room to wonder about his intentions. When Soap didn’t pull away, Simon closed the gap, capturing Soap's mouth in his. The kiss was electrifying, sending a rush of desire through Soap's body. It was a moment Soap had only ever dreamed of, and he responded eagerly, their lips moving in sync as the world around them faded away.

When they finally broke apart, Soap's face was flushed, and his breath was unsteady. Simon grinned down at him, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted.

Soap’s voice quivered as he replied, “Me too.”

“I expect a real name to call you now since I won,” he cheekily stated.

“You bloody cheated ya wanker!” Soap shouted at the man.

“Don’t be a sore loser now mate,” Simon punctuated with a kiss to the man’s nose.

Soap huffed as he finally accepted defeat, the man was impossible. “John. John MacTavish”

Simon beamed at the man beneath him, hands holding Soap’s face like a prized possession as he leaned back in for another kiss.

“Nice to meet you, Johnny”

Epilogue

As weeks went by, Soap and Simon’s connection deepened. They spent more time together outside the gym, going for coffee and sharing meals. Soap found himself falling hard for the enigmatic fighter, and it seemed that Simon’s interest in him was just as strong.

One evening, after a particularly intense sparring session that had ended with a playful wrestling match on the gym floor, Soap finally mustered the courage to ask Simon a burning question. “Why do they call you ‘The Ghost’?”

Simon’s expression grew somber, and he sighed. “It’s a nickname I got during my early fighting days. They said I moved like a ghost in the ring, that I was elusive and hard to predict or some shit like that.”

Soap nodded, but he could sense there was more to the story. “Is there a reason you chose to become a fighter?”

Simon hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I had a tough upbringing, Johnny. Fighting was a way for me to escape the fucking shit in my everyday life. What started as a necessity for survival turned into my salvation. It gave me purpose and a sense of control over my life. God, that sounds pathetic doesn’t it,” he scoffed.

Soap could see the pain in Simon’s eyes. He reached out to place a hand on his arm and scooted towards the man where they were still sitting on the mats. “It’s not pathetic Si, I’m glad you found something that brought you solace,” he said softly. Eyes never leaving the others, making sure he knew he meant every word.

Simon smiled, his gaze softening. For once in his life, he truly believed Johnny had meant what he said. He was so used to people lying and using him, causing him to always stay distant and closed off. Something about the little artist in the corner had knocked all those barriers down the first time he laid eyes on him. “And I’m glad I found you,” he admitted, leaning in to capture Soap’s lips in a passionate kiss. The man had sketched his way into his heart forever.

#ghostsoap #ghostxsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #fluff #call of duty modern warfare #artist au #fighter au #my writing

62 notes · View notes