#soapghost au

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

Thinking about retired SoapGhost opening a bakery. Ghost always liked to bake even though he always had his father's voice commenting on it whenever he would help his mom bake as a kid. Telling him that it's not manly, useless skill, just as useless as his mother the bastard would say. But Simon loved baking with his mom so even when on base he would bake at night in the small communal kitchen they had, when no one would catch him.

Enter John Soap MacTavish walking in on him late at night after a nightmare. Ghost was embarrassed at first but it's safe to say that from that point onward he never baked alone again. With time Johnny started helping him but fuck is he shit at it. So Simon made him stick to decorating and that was an excellent decision. Soap absolutely slayed at decorating the various cakes and cookies Ghost would make. Icing, fondant, chocolate - Johnny makes amazing little peaces of art on the pastries.

Eventually they would share their creations with Price and Gaz and that was a mistake. After that everyone on base wanted a taste.

So when they retired it was natural to open a small bakery where they could spend whole days with each other covered in flour and sugar. Their first big order was from Alejandro himself.

"Nothing big hermano, Rudy will kill me otherwise" he said after ordering a four tier wedding cake with Camellias sculpted in fondant.

Little did they know that they would be making another one only a few months after. Well- little did Simon knew. Soap had that in plans for a little while, fidgeting with the ring in his pocket every time Simon would flash him a smile with his crooked nose covered in flour ever since they baked together for the first time.

A small fluff treat for you guys

[ka-freaking-boom]

Worship At My Altar

Deity Soap x Retired vet Ghost AU

Warnings: Implied suicide attempts, Depression, References to Ghost's backstory.

Ghost trudged through the quaint convenience store in the small, nowhere town he’d found himself in, filling the worn basket that he’d grabbed on the way in with nonperishable foods that he could carry with him on his motorcycle. He’d been getting low on funds, so if he wanted to have enough to get a decent offering for the temple, he couldn’t afford to be as picky as he normally would be while shopping and instead settled for items like canned ravioli and spam for himself.

He’d used the majority of the cash that he had on hand to get as far away from the overwhelming bustle of cities as possible. He didn’t want to use the card that he’d been issued by the government, the little piece of plastic seeming to mock him even from where it was buried deep within his duffel, wrapped up in an old sweatshirt that he’d had since his days as a fresh-faced recruit. 

He set the can of soup that he’d been examining into his basket, adding to his meager collection of food before moving on to the next aisle. He was considering the various cups of cheap ramen noodles, wondering if it even mattered since it all tasted like shit regardless, when someone rushed past him.

His gaze darted away from the display and toward the flash of movement, his hand twitching toward a sidearm that he no longer carried as he located who it was that had passed him. 

The tension that had coiled in his frame relaxed slightly when he realized that it was just an energetic kid, the small boy staring excitedly at the display of candy that was further down the aisle.

Ghost watched as the child began wringing his little fingers together as his wide eyes roamed over the large variety of candy that the store offered instead of just grabbing everything in sight, which was a surprising display of restraint from someone so young.

Ghost resisted the urge to flinch when the boy finally made his selection, one of his small hands abruptly darting out to snatch a bag of gummy bears off the rack before pivoting in order to walk back the way he had come, the kid pausing when he finally noticed that he had an audience.

He looked uncertain for a moment, probably unsure of how to feel about Ghost’s masked face and intimidating stature, before he seemed to shake himself out of his reservations and smiled up at Ghost, revealing the fact that he was missing one of his front teeth. 

He squeezed past Ghost’s large form with a giggle, Ghost following him with his eyes until the kid reached the end of the aisle and moved out of view. Ghost took a few controlled breaths, trying to ignore how the parts of his body where the kid involuntarily brushed up against him crawled uncomfortably, reminding him of claustrophobic boxes and the sharp pain of a scorpion's sting. 

Ghost forced his feet to start moving, intent on going to the checkout since he wanted to visit the temple before it was closed to the public, but he hesitated in front of the same display of candy that had entranced the child, blinking at the colorful packaging. 

His dark eyes scanned over the various sugary treats, debating whether or not to buy some with his already scant funds, before he caved with a sigh and reached out in order to grab a bag of chocolate, tossing it into the basket before he could talk himself out of it. 

Thankfully, the teenage cashier that scanned his things didn’t seem too bothered by his intimidating appearance, the girl too focused on getting Ghost checked out as fast as possible so that she could go back to boredly sketching on the piece of blank receipt paper that she had sitting next to the register to stare at the scarring on his face that wasn’t covered by the mask he was wearing, like most civilians that he encountered in public did.

He climbed onto his bike and pulled his black helmet over his head, feeling the uncomfortable tightness in his chest ease now that his face was hidden behind the tinted visor, before he took his groceries out of the cheap, plastic bags that the store used and began meticulously packing them away in his saddle bags, separating them based on whether it was for him or for his offering. 

Once he was finished, he started the bike with a loud rumble, the engine revving as he reversed out of the parking space and floored it out of the lot, he would have to speed if he wanted to get to his destination in time to set up.

_____

Ghost wasted no time parking the bike and climbing off, impatiently yanking his helmet off and collecting the things he needed before he trotted up the stone staircase and into the looming temple, quickly passing the various priests and lingering townspeople without so much as a second glance in his haste to reach the altar. 

A wave of familiar warmth greeted him the moment that he stepped into the room, Ghost taking note of the subtle changes that had been made to the decor in the altar room since his last visit, the red and gold color scheme making the space feel welcoming and cozy. 

He carefully lowered himself to his knees in front of the marble platform that the statue sat atop of, Ghost setting his bag of offerings next to him before looking up at the deity that he’d been introduced to shortly after arriving to the small town. It had been immediately obvious to Ghost -even at his very first visit- that the statue had clearly been made with the utmost care, every cut reverent, every curve and divot of muscle lovingly sculpted.

Even the drape of the cloth over the statue’s hips was so flawlessly crafted that, if he reached out and touched it, he was almost convinced that he would feel soft cloth underneath his fingers instead of cool marble.

Ghost allowed his eyes to take in the bulge of muscle, the v of the man’s hips that disappeared beneath the flowing fabric that was wrapped artfully around him. His hands twitched with the urge to trace the veins that crawled across thick biceps and calloused hands, to rake through the thick line of hair at the top of the man’s head, to brush a thumb across his knowing, smug grin. 

The man was undeniably beautiful.

Ghost managed to pry his gaze off of the statue in favor of silently pulling the things he’d brought with him out of his bag in order to set them onto the packed stone platform at the man’s bare feet, placing his own offering among the flowers, jewelry, money, candles and bottles of expensive amber liquor that others had left during their own visit.

Ghost meticulously put down ten candles, one for each member of the 141, and the last four for his family. He pulled out a lighter and brought the flame down to the wicks one at a time, mentally recalling the names and faces of those he cared for as he lit the corresponding candle for each person until he had reached the last one.

He took a moment to stare at the flickering flames before forcefully shaking himself out of his daze and setting a bottle of his favorite bourbon in the center of the circle of candles as well as two pretty blue glass bowls that he’d found while at the thrift shop the other day since they were the same shade that the deity’s eyes were.

Or at least what color he believed they were. During his last visit, a painting that someone had left on the altar as an offering in an impressive display of artistic skill had caught his attention, the artist having decided to depict the man with eyes that were such a vibrant blue that they looked like they were glowing, which Ghost thought was befitting of the deity.

He filled the larger bowl with a couple things that he had collected with the intent to bring to the altar. Like the smooth stone that he’d taken from the lake earlier that week, when he had contemplated wading into the crystalline water until it swallowed him up but ultimately decided against it, or the little wooden penguin figurine that he’d spent the week carving, having picked up the habit of whittling a new animal to give the statue every visit.

He then dropped a black skull keychain that he’d spotted at a gas station a few towns over, the bleached skull of a small bird, and the inspirational quote that his therapist had him write on a notecard into the big bowl before propping up the letter that he got from Roach -which mentioned how he was getting sent on a mission with Gaz and Price- behind the bowl in order to ask for protection for the mad cunts.

Ghost finished off the offering by fussing with the small bowl’s placement until he was satisfied before taking the bag of chocolate he’d bought earlier and ripping it open in order to dump the contents into the bowl. He ran a hand over the individually wrapped candies until the pile looked a little less messy before pulling his hand away and letting it rest against his thigh.

He’d come a long way since the first time he’d stopped by the temple, that initial visit having been fueled by a mix of sleep deprivation, desperation and alcohol. The only offering that he had brought with him that time had been the bullet that he’d loaded and unloaded from his firearm so many times since being discharged from the military that the motion was now practically muscle memory.

He’d wanted to get rid of the bullet and the weakness that it represented and figured that the altar of a God he didn’t believe in would be the perfect solution, though he couldn’t have accounted for how the calm atmosphere of the altar room and the kind eyes of the statue staring down at him with a soft, inviting smile kept him coming back for more, chasing that feeling of peace he only got from being in the room.

“I-” Ghost paused, internally wincing at how loud his rough voice seemed in the otherwise silent room, swallowing hard as he ignored how stupid he felt talking to a fucking statue, and continued. “I know it’s not anything extravagant, I don’t have a lot to offer…”

Ghost licked his chapped lips as he trailed off, finally glancing up from the flickering candles enveloping his small pile of gifts to gaze up at the man towering over him, unable to shake the feeling that the statue was looking directly at him despite the fact that it had been carved specifically to look down at it’s devout worshipers. The amused eyes of the man felt like encouragement, the statue's playful gaze easing Ghost's insecurities and helping the tense line of his shoulders relax.

“But you’re already far too spoiled considering the fact that you do fuck all, so I think that you’ll be okay.” Ghost finished with a wide grin that pulled at the various scars on his face, the bite taken out of his words by the soft chuckle that followed the quip as he reached out to condescendingly pat an unoccupied portion of the stone altar, his hand lingering for a moment longer than strictly necessary before he pulled away and pushed to his feet with a grunt, various old aches and pains making themselves known after kneeling for so long.

Ghost picked up his bag and made for the archway leading out of the room, sparing one last glance back at the benevolent statue before finally turning away and moving through the threshold and out of view, oblivious to the subtle sound of shifting stone as the statue’s smile seemed to briefly widen, lips parting to show a flash of perfectly straight teeth.

[bumbburger]

for your consideration, dbh au ghostsoap

[snootlestheangel]

Prison Break AU further concept

@stuffireadandenjoy

Soap has been in there for about a year, and Ghost is new. They're both in the cell block reserved for the worst of the worst. Brutal murderers, rapists, just really fucked up people. Ghost wants out cause he knows the man that framed him, Roba, is probably out there hurting his family as they speak. Soap, being the evil genius he is, devises a plan to get them out, stop Roba, and clear Simon's name. I definitely see this ending as like Soap has to go back to prison and his sentence has even been increased because of all of it, but it was worth it. Simon fighting to keep Soap out of prison cause he owes him his life.

Potential fic title: "Break For Your Heart"

What's the reason Soap is in prison, you might ask?

I honestly don't fucking know but it's definitely a type of crime that he just drops in casual conversation that has everyone else looking at him like "You did that???" I'm thinking like arson but it was a like really horrible fire or for viciously beating a man to death. Like this is gonna be really indulgent in the idea of Soap being an actual criminally insane force of destruction but also still a silly goofy lil guy.

Soap: So, what brings you here? Ghost: I've been framed for kidnapping, torturing, and killing several people. The man that actually did it is probably terrorizing my family as we speak. Soap: That's fucked up. But neat! *Ghost stares in horror at Soap referring to his fucked up situation as 'neat'* Ghost: Wh-Why are you here? Soap: I beat a man so brutally he died choking on his own blood! :D

Or alternatively

Ghost: What's a nice guy like you have to do to end up here? Soap: Oh I set a man on fire :D Ghost: *stares* Ghost: That must've been messy Soap: Yeah, it was pretty gruesome. Ghost: So why do they call you Soap? Soap: Cause there was a guard abusing several of the inmates and I killed him by stuffing a bar of soap down his throat Ghost: Jesus fucking- what is wrong with you?? Soap: A lot :D

I don't know, this is definitely still in the works (clearly) but I just like the idea of normal, civilian dude Ghost and absolutely unhinged Soap.

[confused-wanderer]

Ghostsoap AU where Soap is a strong swimmer, one of the best Scuba divers out there and Ghost is a marine biologist investigating the ecosystem and the deep ocean.

Ghost who’s had intense trauma with cliffs and just generally being near the edge of things at huge heights, something Johnny would occasionally tease him about but always lightly, with never any venom in them. And although to everyone, including the Scot who just started closely working with Ghost a few months ago, it seems like Ghost doesn’t care much for Soap, everything shifts one day when stuff goes terribly wrong.

Soap had dove farther than he had in a while, exploring a new area near a cliff after an intense natural disaster (maybe an earthquake that unearthed a closed off area?) and his oxygen tank bursts.

Meanwhile the team gets his distress signal, and Ghost, despite his trauma with cliffs, doesn’t hesitate to jump off the tallest one in order to get to Soap.

His Johnny. His oxygen.

[abyss-cat]

Keep forgetting I'm supposed to post here. Anyway chapter go brr

[lights-on-the-ridge]

Simon thought it was already hard to understand him....

[mindie-arts]

Fuck it *ponifies your military men✨*

This might be my new obsession-

[abc-ok]

fan art of the ghostsoap au from @valiants ! Its sooo aesthetic and romantic 💘 i fvcking love it! :,D

[helcef]

many thoughts abt @mizushibart ’s metalhead/skater ghostsoap au

[thirsty-koi]

🐶 Soap found one of Ghost’s knives

(Ignore my sketch layers. Mi brain forgot~ 👁👅👁✌️)

[ka-freaking-boom]

I Think, Therefore I Am

Psychic Ghost x Soap

Warnings: Blood and injury.

Soap still remembered the first time he had been dragged into the creepy, reality-bending episode of a level one psychic. 

He’d been about eight and was staying over at a friend's house for the weekend when his friend’s abilities suddenly manifested. They had been sitting on his bed in his room, ignoring the fact that it was definitely way past their usual bedtime in favor of playing whatever card game that sparked their interest with the deck that Soap had brought over with him.

They were on their second round of speed when the light overhead began to flicker for a few seconds before finally dimming to a soft golden glow. Soap had looked up and leveled the spastic light with a frown, but when he turned his attention back to his friend in order to ask if they should tell his parents about the blown out bulb, the unoiled hinges of the closet door creaked loudly as it began to open on its own, reveling a black void.

Soap had felt his friend roughly grab his wrist as they stared at the unnaturally dark space beyond, his friend’s grip tight and panicked when the door stopped moving, leaving them gazing into the void that used to be his closet interior. Soap could hear the other boy’s breathing speed up, but he didn’t dare look away from the impenetrable black of the closet to check on his friend.

He was sure that if he did, something bad would happen.

Then Soap caught a glimpse of something moving in the inky darkness and quickly turned his back to the open doorway, swiftly pivoting on the bed and grabbing his friend’s blanched face between his hands in order to force the other boy to look at him. Soap asked if his friend trusted him, his expression most likely reflecting the very same panic that was on the other boy’s face, but it only took a moment for him to make his decision.

His friend rapidly nodded –despite the tight grip that Soap had on either side of his face– and Soap told him to close his eyes. There was a short moment of hesitation before the other boy finally obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut as the floor behind the two of them creaked with the weight of something walking across the old boards.

“One, two, three aleerie. Four, five, six aleerie.” Soap began to chant the familiar playground rhyme as he dropped his hands from his friend’s face in order to grab his shaking hands and squeeze reassuringly until the other boy caught onto what he was doing and began to say it with him, their voices drowning out the sound of raspy breathing that seemed to be coming from right behind him.

Soap felt the hair on his arms rise as warm breaths hit the sensitive skin on the back of his neck, the smell of rot wafting over him with every croaky exhale. He pinched his eyes shut so hard that he began to see white spots dancing across his eyelids, stubbornly continuing to repeat the song despite how his stomach churned at the disgusting smell.

Though Soap lost his focus and tripped over his words when the room abruptly went dead silent, the two of them startling hard when overhead light suddenly flickered back to full power, illuminating the room. Soap peeked an eye open to scan over the room for any sign of the terrifying monster that had emerged from the depths of the closet, finding the closet door now closed once again with not a thing out of place to even suggest that anything had happened.

Needless to say, neither of them had gotten any sleep that night.

But that terrifying situation had absolutely nothing on when he’d been dragged into an episode of Ghost’s own creation once it became clear that Shepard had betrayed them and ordered Graves to burn them. One moment, Soap had been shot –despite the fact that he’d grabbed a Shadow to use as a makeshift shield– and he’d tipped backward. Though, instead of hitting the tarmac, it seemed that the road had opened up beneath him and he continued to fall.

He collided with the ground with a strained groan, his entire body aching something fierce as he sat up, and he gave himself a moment to catch his breath before using the dirt walls on either side of him to help push himself upright. Looking around, he realized that he’d fallen into some sort of hole about ten feet down, the rectangular shape eerily reminiscent of a grave.

Soap was startled out of his thoughts when some dirt rained over his head, his hand coming up to brush the dust out of his hair as he turned his gaze to the top of the deep hole. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his breathing speeding up when he spotted what looked like Ghost –the Lieutenant’s large body outlined against the dark night sky behind him by an orange light that flickered like a flame– but the feeling he got when he looked at the silhouette made his stomach churn with unease just like it had that night with his childhood friend.

He took a step back, away from where the skull-faced figure was standing, but froze when some sort of red liquid that looked alarmingly like blood began to ooze from the wide eye sockets, its frame losing shape as crimson began to drip from its body, the red liquid slipping over the edge and into the grave where Soap was trapped.

Soap backpedaled until he hit the opposite side of the hole, as far from the figure and the liquid as he could manage, but even then it wasn’t long until the blood reached Soap’s boots. Soap forced his wide gaze away from the melting figure to stare down at the rapidly rising crimson working its way up past his ankles, his eyes darting around when a low, unfamiliar voice began to whisper to him.

His panicked gaze turned to the growing puddle beneath him when he felt hands wrap around his ankles, holding him in place no matter how hard he tried to yank himself out of their grip, the whispering beginning to steadily grow louder and louder until a cacophony of voices were shouting at him, whatever they were saying becoming indecipherable due to how they were all yelling over each other.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Soap clapped his hands over his ears in an attempt to muffle the voices when his ears began to ache, his own voice eventually rising in order to try and drown out the sheer number of disembodied voices until he was sure that he was screaming too.

Soap.

He could barely hear the soft call over all the noise, more hands reaching out to grab onto him as the blood climbed up his body, the coppery-smelling liquid hungrily lapping at his chest and quickly moving up toward his shoulders.

Soap!

Soap took one last desperate breath before the crimson came up over his head and swallowed him whole, the hands digging into his clothing and skin holding him still as he struggled to get free, his lungs already starting to burn with the lack of air.

Johnny!

All the hands simultaneously released him as someone grabbed onto the bitch strap of his vest from above, his head breaking the surface of the blood-filled grave as he was unceremoniously hauled upward. Soap inhaled hard once he hit open air, only to immediately devolve into a violent coughing fit as the hand pulled away and, without the extra support, he collapsed to the ground.

He pried his eyes open, brows furrowing in confusion when he was met with the slick cobblestone streets of Las Almas beneath him as opposed to the smooth tarmac road that he was expecting. His gaze wandered away from the ground and instead to his own person, blinking incredulously when the only blood he found on himself was from the bullet hole in his right arm despite the fact that –just a few moments ago– he’d been practically doused in the stuff.

His comms suddenly crackled to life and he flinched, releasing a relieved breath when a familiar Manchester brogue rang out over the sound of pattering rain. “Soap, this is Ghost, how copy.”

[bumbburger]

local miscreant will not leave alone this big ass mercenary (skyrim au)

[snootlestheangel]

Prison Break AU Snippet

(goddammit @stuffireadandenjoy this is taking over my brain here's a small snippet I had to write)

The movies were wrong, Simon quickly learned. Here, no one jeered at him, no one shouted as he walked past all their closed cells. No, they all just watched him. Predatory and hungry, like vultures waiting for a fresh kill.

It disturbed him, how he knew they all believed he belonged.

"In." The guard leading him stopped towards the end of the block, gesturing towards a now open cell. His eyes kept nervously glancing inside it, and he shuffled on his feet as Simon didn't move.

"Get inside!" The guard snapped, yet kept his voice lower than a shout. He shot another nervous glance at what Simon realized to be someone already inside the cell. The other man was lying face down on the top bunk of the rather small looking metal bunk bed screwed into the wall. He had one leg dangling off, and Simon only barely stepped foot inside the cell so as to avoid awkwardly bumping into a potentially dangerous man.

Potentially. Simon had to mentally roll his eyes at himself. He was surrounded by the worst, surely this sleeping man wouldn't hesitate to put Simon in his place.

"Hands." The guard snapped once the cell door slammed shut. Simon turned around and allowed the guard to remove the cuffs from his wrists. The guard once again nervously glanced at Simon's new cellmate before swallowing thickly.

"You've got a new bunkie, MacTavish." The guard said, rushing through his words before quickly walking off. Simon shook his head, trying not to let the breath he had been holding shake as it came out. He turned, not quite sure what to do, but stopped when he realized his "bunkie" had moved.

The man was now on his side, facing somewhat towards Simon, his head propped up on one of his arms. Sharp blue eyes scanned Simon up and down, leaving him feeling exposed. A small smirk danced on the man's lips as his eyes lingered on Simon's torso, yet Simon didn't want to know what he had been thinking. A loose strand of dark hair fell over the man's brow, leading Simon to realize he had a mohawk.

"Welcome to our wee slice o' hell."

[lurrlonde]

highlandered & knighted

[abyss-cat]

I keep forgetting to post updates here anyway new chapter of Nuremberg Codes