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What better way to start this account than repost my one and only angst with fluff thread #ghoap my beloved

anOnyMousUser @notrealfg.bsky.social · 14/02/2025

Reposted by Eldritch

#2025GhoapValentine24H #GhostSoap 𝙼𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚎

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it should but he pushes through. “We’re back. Sorry it took this long, Simon.” Ghost swallows the lump down his throat, then looks at soap again, running his hand through his stupid brown hair. They still have time. He can still make it up to him. (End)

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of the room. “Don’t wake him. He hasn’t slept in days. Didn’t allow himself until you were awake.” Ghost nods, intertwining his fingers with soap’s. “We’re going back to base once you’re capable.” Ghost looks up at that. “We?” his voice is rough and his throat hurts more than

is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. Soap is draped across his legs, sleeping soundly as he still holds onto his hand. He ignores the pain all over his body, the fact they took off his mask while he was probably in surgery, ignores price standing in the corner-

“Now you better stay alive so you can give me a proper kiss, ay?” he whispers as they reach the helicopter. Soap’s hands are wrapped around his the entire flight back, they’re warm. Warmth is the first thing he feels when he wakes up at base. And the brown mohawk-

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out but soap holds him upright. “Stubborn bastard.” soap shakes his head and hauls him upwards, carrying him in both arms. “Never thought i’d carry you bridal style. Can get used to it though.” Ghost ignores his comments, focuses on the warmth and the beating of soap’s heart.

together, then he laughs. “So you do like me?” “Fuck off.” he pulls at soap’s vest, using all of his power to pull him closer. Soap stumbles forward, eyes widening when their helmets knock together as ghost presses his mask against his mouth. Ghost can feel his knees giving-

“I said save it. You need help. Now.” soap barks out, and even ghost is taken aback by the power behind his voice. Ghost stops in his steps, letting go of his stomach and placing both hands on soap’s shoulders. Blood stains his vest. “Come with me.” Soap’s brows scrunch

He squeezes soap’s shoulder tightly, appreciating its warmth. He’s alive. They’re alive. He can see the other troops in the distance but no- he can’t let soap leave. He can’t leave soap again. He can’t let them take him away. “Soap.” He croaks out. “Wait.”

“When I heard some soldier with a skull mask asked for a medic I had to come and see it for myself, no?” Ghost can’t bring himself to laugh at the absurdity. It hurts too much. The wound in his chest hurting more than the gash in his stomach.

as the person on the comms tells him where he needs to go. Ghost’s body aches, screams to let go as soap hauls his arm over his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Ghost chuckles, wincing as his feet drag over the ground. “How did you- know where i was?”

more gunshots, more screams but soap stays calm “we’re coming back. He needs medical attention, and quick.” All ghost can do is stare as his heart pounds loudly in his throat. “Soap, I-“ “Save it for the ride back, Sir.” soap helps him on his feet, listening carefully

on soap’s thigh, squeezing it lightly. he was fucking there with him, balls deep into this prick’s mess. “Johnny get out of here.” “I missed you too.” Soap inspects the wound on his stomach. His face goes pale at the sight of it, then speaks into his mic “it’s ghost. We’re-“

night visions. “Soap,” ghost manages to croak at, making a move to launch forward but he winces in pain. The hand on his shoulder keeps him from getting up, soap’s hand. Eyes wide, ghost doesn’t know what to say or do, yet drops the knife and allows himself to put his gloved hand

Then slides over the ground, body hitting the large rock behind ghost’s back. “Good to see you, LT. Wish it was under better circumstances.” There was that cheeky grin and ghost could finally catch a glimpse of his stupidly gorgeous blue eyes when soap tears off both of their-

“Steamin’ hell,” the soldiers screams, pace increasing before ducking down as a helicopter flies over. He has to be hallucinating, this can’t be real. Ghost watches how the soldier gets back on his feet, running full speed.

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, eyes darting in all directions until he catches a glimpse of running someone directly at him. He steadies the knife in his hands, ready to stab the bastard in the throat. He can never be too sure.

soap’s reaction. has to. he imagines soap’s curses, hears them and they bring him comfort. he allows himself to close his eyes for just a moment, imagining soap’s voice in his ears. another pang in his chest forces his eyes wide open and he almost doubles over at the intensity

hears all the different accents, recognising some of them were scottish. He chuckles at their curses, a painful smile sneaking up on his lips. Only one bastard could pull those off without sounding over the top. he would never admit that though, or maybe he should. he has to see

a sharp breath, hissing as he tries to move again. No one can hear him and that’s a good thing. They don’t need to know how fucking miserable he is. more soldiers, more yelling, more noise, and his ears are ringing, heart hammering in his chest. in the midst of it all he-

against a large rock as he clutches the knife in his hand. they nod in his direction. more soldiers run past him, clothes doused with blood and filth as they continue their mission -he failed his-. he’s surrounded by comrades, yet he has never felt more abandoned. He sucks in a

past him in both directions, all having their orders, secretly wishing it was soap in that lot. he can’t make out their faces, yet a few glance into his direction and he sees them talking in their microphones. “Send the medic team.” he barks out the command, slumping down-

he manages to rip a knife out of one of the soldiers he had taken care of, holds it firmly in his hand as he uses the other to drag himself through the ruins. he can’t die like this. he won’t. still has so much to do. to say. he needs to find out where johnny is.

needs to give those official pricks a hard time for disbanding their team. needs to tell soap he’s a fucking slag -for not pushing further when they were saying their goodbyes-. He grits his teeth, grunting as he’s finally out of the gunfire. He sees a couple friendlies running

Body aching, heart clenching, he pushes himself off the wall and crouches out the building, putting on his night vision again. more explosives surround him, more gunshots and he can’t make out which ones are trying to hunt him down and which ones are trying to keep him safe.

walls that are still standing. Everything hurts, he needs to find solutions not problems, yet the only thing he can think about is the problem of soap not being there with him. They were supposed to die together, not like this. His head falls back against the concrete. Fuck.

Still nothing. He’s alone as expected. He tries everything he can do to stop himself from bleeding from his stomach, then notices the multiple cuts on his arms and legs. He needs to get back. And fucking fast. He grunts as he manages to get up, back leaning against one of the few

He can feel the gash on his stomach bleeding, the bandages clearly not being enough and he hisses when he presses down on the wound. This wouldn’t kill him. But not being able to get out of here might. He can hear the gunshots in the distance and tries his comms again.

He is still alive. Has to be. Or maybe he’s sitting at home, sipping scotch in front of the tv as he watches one of those tv dramas he tried to get ghost into. He regrets not sitting down with him. Regrets not stealing a few more subtle taps on his thigh. Fucking hell.

bullshit that he allows himself to remember him. He’s panting loudly, chest on fire as he bandages himself up, hiding in a burnt down building. The only thing that brings him comfort is the idea this was soap’s doing. He had a knack for explosives. This could have easily been him

Ghost doesn’t allow himself to think about him. It’s easier to pretend Soap never existed than confront the ache in his chest every fucking time. He doesn’t think about him as he’s out in mexico, in brussels. Never. Only when he’s knuckles deep in some arsehole’s personal-

way. Why hurt himself even more? This was it. He fixes his eyes back on the paperwork, ignoring how utterly suffocating his mask feels. “See ya, ghost.” He’s going to miss making fun of his scottish accent. “Soap.” Ghost nods and soap closes the door behind him.

“Without you? Not a chance, LT.” There is that stupid half crooked smile again. Cheeky bastard. There is a moment of silence and while ghost wants to give him a proper goodbye, for soap’s sake, he ignores the puppy eyes and decides to be selfish. He’s going to be alone either-

When soap comes to say goodbye, ghost is sat behind his desk, eyes fixed on the paperwork to keep himself together. Soap is carrying his bag around his shoulder -where the fuck does he think he’s going- and ghost’s chest clenches, heart throbs. “Don’t die out there, Johnny.” 2/?