#soap (song)

[rusticfurnace]

// GHOSTSOAP x sailor song! (🔊 ON ) // suggestive imagery ⚠⚠⚠ individual panels:

[may12324]

"Here, there Where the sight rather flees And the heartbeat leaks And the lighted mouth Rather chokes"

[yooo-lets-go]

My brother I’m begging, can we some Ghost being down bad for Soap? I’m on my hands and knees

You keep me under your spell

[yi3248]

happy birthday simon ghost riley

all the joy and love for you, simon

[hai-nae]

if you want love, you're gonna have to go through the pain,

if you want love, you're gonna have to learn how to change,

if you want trust, you're gonna have to give some away.

[wispscribbles]

In our bedroom after the war

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

"SO IF YOU CARE TO FIND MEEE, LOOK TO THE WESTERN SKYY~"

"AS SOMEONE TOLD ME LATELY, EVERYO- HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS," you yelp, clamoring to cover yourself with the shower curtain that was suddenly thrown open.

what was what was supposed to be your private shower karaoke session was instead interrupted by a giddy mohawk man.

"Didn't tell us you could sing so well, bon!" Johnny says with a stupid grin on his face.

"Johnny, what the fuck are you doing?!?" you say embarassedly, trying to save at least some remnants of your dignity.

"Not just me, Simon's here too," Johnny gestures, at the same time Simon's head pops out from behind the door almost comically, making you snort before huffing. "What's there to hide lass? Nothin' we havnae seen before."

"That's different," you grit out, feeling your cheeks warm further. "Now can I shower in peace?"

"Aw, but I was enjoying the show," Johnny says with a pout, so you glance at Simon pleadingly.

"Alright Johnny, that's enough," Simon says, dragging him out by the ear like a mother hen. It makes you laugh out loud as Johnny's whines echo behind him.

"I'll have you singing later bon, that's a promise~" he calls out before the bathroom door is shut once more.

[cradleghost]

“Break me apart, Love”

[temeyes]

sweet talk <3

[jashonja]

I am convinced that Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths is pretty much about MW3 ending.

[rusticfurnace]

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do

with music :3

[s0fter-sin]

the 141 recovering brainwashed!soap but he’s just a shell of his former self; never speaking, never moving without orders. he never even blinks; just stares straight ahead with his unnatural green eyes.

empty.

but ghost can't accept that.

price and gaz can't stand watching ghost torture himself day after day; visiting soap in his cell for hours at a time, trying anything he can think of to bring back his sergeant.

he shows him pictures of the 141 but soap thinks he's being given targets and moves to eliminate them before ghost stops him. he brings him his journal, tries to trigger his innermost thoughts and feelings he never shared with any of them, but after he reads it, soap summarises it like he's giving a mission briefing. impersonal.

cold.

it's late when ghost finally calls it; low and defeated after another long day of being stared at with eyes that don't see him. he isn't thinking when he pulls his mask off and harshly scrubs over his face, grinding his palm into his eye.

"don't worry, johnny; we're still fixin' each other's problems," he promises, little more than a whisper as he tries to summon the energy to leave johnny behind. again.

he pushes himself to his feet, his hand on the door handle when-

"what's my problem?"

ghost freezes, something like grief - something achingly closer to hope - chilling him. he slowly turns and though soap is still starring ahead, there's a faint light in his altered green eyes.

"the mask," he forces out. "take it off."

he knows there's no way to remove the mask - the muzzle - from his sergeant's face. it's too high-tech, even for them; the biometric scanner too advanced for any bypass they know of.

it's just another way he's failed him; bringing him home still bound in their enemy's chains.

soap- jolts; a sharp, almost painful looking flinch jerking his body.

"show my face?" and his voice has changed; no longer the monotone delivery that's haunted ghost's every waking moment.

it's smaller. uncertain. recollection of a memory half-destroyed.

"yes, johnny," he breathes.

soap moves unprompted for the first time since they found him; running his finger along the edge of the muzzle where his skin bulges from the pressure, half-visible scars hidden beneath the harsh metal.

"ugly," he murmurs.

ghost immediately shakes his head, almost stumbling back to the table; haphazardly throwing his mask on it. "quite the opposite," he insists.

it doesn't matter if he has no lower jaw left at all; johnny could never be ugly in his eyes.

agonisingly slowly, soap's eyes shift to the mask. he takes in the balaclava and hard shell skull like for all the times he's looked at it since his rescue, he never truly saw it. his lids fall in less of a blink and more stage curtains closing; slow, heavy, requiring effort and no small amount of strength to open once more

"good... to see you again..." he trails off, his hand shifting up to the top of his shaved head; nails digging unforgivingly into his scalp

"simon," ghost finishes for him; that horrid grieving hope tearing at his heart

soap's fingers flex and a drop of blood trails down his forehead, over the ridge of his nose to catch on the muzzle. "s-simon..."

his nails dig deeper, the drop falling to the table just to be followed by more and ghost aches to stop him but he's terrified to interrupt him. terrified to lose him now when he's so close to something.

soap's bloodied nails scratch down the crown of his head, following the line of his stolen mohawk until they come to rest on the back of the muzzle and ghost's heart drops.

they can’t get it off.

they can't get it off and he doesn't know how to explain that to soap; doesn't know if he can stomach watching soap pull at the monstrosity holding him captive, the inevitable bloodbath as the edges cut into his skin.

"show my face," soap repeats.

"johnny..." ghost begins weakly, reaching out to him but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he even should-

the muzzle clatters onto the table.

the biometrics they couldn't bypass, the fingerprint they needed that they were so sure belonged to makarov.

it belonged to soap.

how cruel to torture him with freedom he didn't understand he could take; didn't even understand he could want.

just the kind of sick game makarov loves.

ghost doesn't know what's louder; his heart pounding in his ears or the long, uninhibited breath soap takes.

his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back with it, the blood still dripping down his face as he straightens through his exhale. his lower jaw is a mess of scars where he fought against the previous iterations of the muzzle, the corners of his lips cut through and cracked.

but the green in his eyes is duller; that light sparking brighter as blue struggles to break through the glow.

ghost's never seen anything so beautiful.

"good to see you again, johnny."

[eiraeths]

age difference ghoap but it’s just soap singing your love by outfield as horribly as possible to annoy ghost

soap: youuu know i like my boys a little bit olderrr

ghost, covering ears: i will actually pay you to shut the fuck up.

[brucewaynehater101]

AU: Jason has Lazarus Pit effects, but it just plays suitable (or funny) background music to whatever he's experiencing.

[hai-nae]

baby, i wanna touch you. i wanna feel you in my bones.

boy, i'm gonna love you, i'm gonna tear into your soul. OR, s'ok to be a little pathetic in the face of adoration.