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honestlyhiswife · 7 months

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in my culture it’s still normal to “court” somebody before dating them, although it’s not as popular but people still prefer it so the tradition’s still alive and that got me thinking. how would Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley court?

Ghost who would take the initiative to learn things about you. Oh you like this band? He’ll be listening to it while working out so that you two have something to talk about on the way to your next operation

Ghost telling Soap he likes you and Soap immediately becoming his wingman, understanding the timeline of courting

Ghost who absolutely insists that you sit next to him, just in case you get sleepy and need somebody to rest your head on. Happily, you oblige, even if you’ve just chugged an energy drink and there’s no way in hell you’re tired

Ghost, who seeks Gaz’s advice on how to find out what flowers you like so that he could have a bouquet arranged. If it turns out that you’re allergic to flowers, he’s on his way to stalk your music account and create a playlist for you.

Ghost who texts:

💀: “Hi, took down some notes from the briefing if you’d need them”

You: “aww you shouldn’t have, thank you ghost”

when he realises your head starts to droop oh-so-slightly because of the exhaustion taking over you.

Ghost who’s been showing weird behaviour around Price, almost appearing jittery around his phone, constantly checking his lockscreen for notifications. When Price presses Ghost for “his lack of attention”, he catches Ghosts eyes drift towards you, in the middle of him scolding Ghost. And all Price can do go silent as he’s pieced the puzzle together and clap his hand on Ghost’s back.

Ghost, who cannot pick up on a single hint that you’re okay with his courting and doesn’t want to go any further. He’s oblivious to how you seem to push away when other people offer their seats for you, because he’s thinking of how else to impress you.

#honey has the mic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost mwii #cod hcs #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #cod mwii #courting ghost #honey writes

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jekyllnahyena · 1 year

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Look! It’s Reg’s lockscreen :D

[I.D. It’s a digital drawing of Simon Ghost Riley and John Soap MacTavish. They’re both sleep, lying on a couch with Soap on top of Ghost, who’s holding into him, one hand on his back, the other in his hair. It has a white frame, emulating a polaroid. The words, ‘Post Mission Nap’ are written on the lower frame. End I.D]

#simon ghost riley #commander ghost #john soap mactavish #commander soap #god theyre so adorable i swear to fuck-#reg is trying her hardest not to explode while taking the pic #ajekyllsart

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tumblerlove · 3 months

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🦋My masterlist🦋

Send me some requests. I'm gonna be writing smutty, fluffy, and some short blurbs. I'll be writing mainly Rafe Cameron, Simon "Ghost" Riley and Eddie Munson.

Rafe Cameron

Sleepy guy - Fluffy

Taking photo's -Fluffy

A get-together - Smut

Gone for too long - Smut

What a good girl - Smut

Size difference - Smut

Marsh man - Fluffy

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Pure torture - Smut

Lockscreen - Fluffy

Breeding kink - Smut

Sit in my lap - Smut

Rise and shine - Smut

You're beautiful - Fluffy

Perfect ride -Smut

Boy!Dad Simon - Fluffy

Use Me - Smut

Headcanons -Fluffy

#rafe cameron #simon ghost riley #rafe cameron imagine #ghost x reader smut #simon riley smut #rafe cameron smut #ghost simon riley #rafe cameron fanfiction

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ofcartographers · 1 year

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○ little lady — johnny “soap” mactavish/simon “ghost” riley — fluff

「 Soap lets out a bark of laughter before yanking out his phone from his pocket, shoving the device in Ghost’s face. “Ye mean my cat, ye daft cunt?” Displayed on his lockscreen is a picture of a pristine white cat, with its baby blue eyes boring holes into the camera, its nose upturned almost in a feline sneer — if Ghost squints he can see the inscription of ‘Little Lady’ on its bejeweled collar. --- ᴏʀ: there's a misunderstanding and Ghost thinks 'Little Lady' is Soap's girl and gets jealous 」

Ghost wasn’t typically one for water cooler gossip, especially for asinine topics such as latest shags.

He had resigned himself to ending his workout early and perhaps later returning to the fitness center when there were less nuisances around, when a certain Scot found himself the center of attention.

“Speaking of birds, I’ve heard you got one, MacTavish?” A nameless Sergeant asks.

Ghost decides that perhaps he can stay a bit longer and finish up his session on the punching bag.

The Scot pushes himself up from his reclined position on the weight bench with a huff. “Yer aff yer heid!” Soap laughs breathlessly, slumping over to catch his breath from his recent set.

“You taking the piss? Who’s this ‘Little Lady’ then?” Nameless Sergeant chuffs. Ghost is beginning to dislike him.

Soap visibly perks at the mention of the name. “Och aye! My Little Lady? Sweetest little puss you’ll ever see—”

Ghost punches the bag hard enough to knock it off-kilter, its chains rattling loudly as it wobbles to-and-fro. The entire room falls silent and all eyes are suddenly on him.

He says nothing and exits the room in angry strides. No one stops him.

---

It’s easy enough for Ghost to avoid certain people should he desire to do so — after all, it is one of the reasons for his moniker.

It becomes less difficult to do so when it’s a member of the 141 and Price is involved. It’s just the Captain and Ghost pouring over mission proposals and leave logistics — one of the caveats of higher ranks — when Soap decides to pop on by.

Dressed in a faded hoodie that’s seen better days and a duffle bag slung loosely over his shoulder, Soap acknowledges his two superiors with a wide grin. “Captain! LT!” He waves with his free hand.

Ghost merely gives a grunt and the slightest nod of acknowledgement in return. “Soap!” Price returns with a nod and eyes his luggage. “Heading home to Glasgow then?” He quips.

Soap chuckles and nods, thumbing his nose almost bashfully. “Aye, I’ve been away from my Little Lady too long.” Ghost tenses at the pet name, but says nothing, instead choosing to focus on the suddenly interesting paperwork that’s set in front of him.

“Good, lad!” Price nods, and Ghost swears he sees Soap preen at this. “Well, don’t let us keep you then.” And just like that, the Captain is waving him off, “Oh, and say ‘hi’ to Elsie for me.” Ghost’s head snaps up at this. Sod the paperwork.

“Will do. Ta!” Soap calls out and he’s gone before Ghost can even say anything.

Ghost feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him. “Price, you know about her?” He manages to croak out, unable to bring himself to say her name.

Price looks at him as if he’s grown three heads. “About Elsie? Of course I bloody know about her. Even met her a few times.” He scoffs incredulously and his eyes start to soften and he’s giving Ghost the same look as one would a wounded animal and—

“I need a smoke” Ghost announces suddenly and leaves before Price can get a word in.

---

It had been a couple of weeks since the ‘incident’ in Price’s office, and a few more since Ghost had seen Soap last. He knew it was inevitable they would cross paths again, though he wasn’t quite anticipating Soap to plop down next to him in the mess hall.

A rough hand claps him on the shoulder, accompanied by the warmth of a body pressing into his side as the Scot slides into the seat next to him. “Ghost,” he regards with a nod, removing his hand after a beat too long — the warmth of his hand, immediately missed.

Like moths to a flame, Soap attracts the unwanted attention of others in the room and suddenly the empty table Ghost had been sitting at moments prior was nearly full, much to his displeasure and had resolved on finishing up his meal quickly when a nuisance makes himself known.

“Looks like someone had a good leave, eh?” Nameless Sergeant tuts from behind Soap, hooking a finger into the collar of the Scot’s t-shirt and tugging it aside to put the tanned skin of his shoulder on display.

If Ghost strains his eyes, he can just barely make out a few lines of what appear to be scratches peeking out from the now disarrayed collar of Soap’s stupidly tight t-shirt.

Soap slaps away the offending hand and struggles to tug his collar back in place. “Awa’ an bile yer heid!” He blusters, the tips of his ears now red with embarrassment.

Nameless Sergeant just laughs and slides into the open seat next to Soap. “Your ‘Little Lady’ do that t’ya?” He hums, slinging an arm around Soap’s shoulder casually. He’s much too close for Ghost’s liking and decides that he definitely dislikes the man.

Soap tenses at the contact but doesn’t move to shake him off. “Aye” He sighs and hangs his head, his hand absentmindedly fiddling with his mohawk — a nervous habit of his, Ghost notices.

Clearly the Nuisance isn’t finished digging his own grave because his next question makes Ghost freeze mid-bite. “Got any pics?” Nameless Sergeant asks and Soap nods, digging in his pocket for his phone and pulling it out for him to see. Ghost can’t see his screen — he doesn’t want to.

As soon as Soap begins swiping through his photo album, people begin clamoring around him for a glance at his Little Lady — it’s a mixed reaction, with a few chuckles here and there with the occasional coo, which strikes Ghost as odd.

“Nice pussy,” Nameless Sergeant sniggers at a particular picture.

Ghost slams down his fist on the table, and the entire mess hall goes dead silent — all eyes are on him.

Soap looks at him with eyes wide, his brow wrinkled with concern. “Ghost?” He asks meekly, his hand reaching out for his shoulder and—

He can’t deal with this. Ghost abruptly pushes himself up from his seat, yanks down his balaclava that’s bunched around his nose, and storms out of the mess hall. This time someone tries to stop him.

“Ghost!” Soap is yelling after him, but he ignores him and increases his strides. “Simon!” Ah, shit. His steps falter.

Soap wastes no time in catching up to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder to keep the taller man in place — Ghost doesn’t have the heart to shrug him off. “What?” He grounds out through clenched teeth.

The hand on his shoulder gives a surprisingly sharp tug and he’s now about-face with his Sergeant. “Why’re ye up to high dogh?” Soap pants, his face red — though Ghost isn’t sure whether it’s from exertion or fluster.

And because he’s a right bastard, Ghost can’t help the sneer that escapes him. “English, MacTavish,” he coos instinctively — old habits die hard.

The tips of Soap’s ears turn red and his flush spreads down his neck — ah, so fluster then. “What the fuck is your problem?” The Scot grits out slowly, making sure to enunciate each word clearly, masking his accent entirely.

Soap is attempting to stare him down and his grip that’s now fisted in the bigger man’s shirt is unyielding — stubborn bastard. “Christ, Johnny!” Ghost finally snaps. “I don’t want to hear about that shite from you. Especially about your bloody girl!” He spits, his voice laced with venom especially at the mention of Soap’s ‘girl.’

Soap’s eyes have gone wide and his mouth is agape — it takes a few seconds of him slowly blinking before he’s shouting. “What girl?!” He actually throws his hands up in exasperation. It’s almost comical.

Ghost arches a brow at Soap’s confusion, but chooses to remain steadfast. “Your ‘Little Lady’?” He scoffs — he still refuses to say her name.

Soap lets out a bark of laughter before yanking out his phone from his pocket, shoving the device in Ghost’s face. “Ye mean my cat, ye daft cunt?”

Displayed on his lockscreen is a picture of a pristine white cat, with its baby blue eyes boring holes into the camera, its nose upturned almost in a feline sneer — if Ghost squints he can see the inscription of ‘Little Lady’ on its bejeweled collar.

Ghost feels gut-punched. “What?” Is all he can manage to croak out.

The Scot points an accusatory finger at the bigger man’s chest and starts laughing breathlessly. “You’re jealous!” He accuses, tears start to form in the corner of his eyes from laughter.

Ghost doesn’t say anything.

“Over a cat!” Soap howls with laughter.

Ghost bristles at this. “Shut. Up.” He hisses.

Soap continues to crowd into his space until they’re pressed chest-to-chest — the finger that was digging into his chest, now curls into his collar. “Make me.” He breathes, peering up at Ghost through wet lashes, his doe-eyed gaze focusing on Ghost’s clothed covered mouth.

Ghost lifts up his balaclava and acquiesces, of course.

#cod mw2 #ghostsoap #soapghost #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #i dont wanna talk about how long i spent on the graphic only to realize i forgot the collar

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ofcartographers · 3 years

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masterlist

—» 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚞𝚝𝚢

○ again. — johnny “soap” mactavish/simon “ghost” riley — drabble/soft 「 The moments that Ghost cherishes most with Soap are surprisingly not the more carnal ones 」

○ behind a name — johnny “soap” mactavish/simon “ghost” riley — crack 「 “Oi, it’s ‘Don’t-Drop-The-Soap’ MacTavish!” A nameless Sergeant claps Soap’s shoulder from behind and narrowly avoids taking an elbow to the face when the Scot attempts to buck him off. “Awa’ an bile yer heid!” Soap splutter, but the man appears unaffected by the smaller man’s threats. The nameless Sergeant’s next move makes Ghost freeze: in a true act of brazeness, Nameless Sergeant drops his hands to the swell of Soap’s ass and squeezes. “Still got that fat arse I see,” He has the gall to sneer. --- ᴏʀ: Soap’s nickname is not from how quickly he cleans house, but rather on how he had the most fuckable ass in the SAS 」

○ little lady — johnny “soap” mactavish/simon “ghost” riley — fluff 「 Soap lets out a bark of laughter before yanking out his phone from his pocket, shoving the device in Ghost’s face. “Ye mean my cat, ye daft cunt?” Displayed on his lockscreen is a picture of a pristine white cat, with its baby blue eyes boring holes into the camera, its nose upturned almost in a feline sneer — if Ghost squints he can see the inscription of ‘Little Lady’ on its bejeweled collar. --- ᴏʀ: there's a misunderstanding and Ghost thinks 'Little Lady' is Soap's girl and gets jealous 」

—» 𝚌𝚢𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝟸𝟶𝟽𝟽 ○ on weathered shore — johnny silverhand/female v — hurt/comfort 「 Johnny Silverhand was many things — washed-up rockstar, former terrorist, womanizer extraordinaire, and occasional dickhead — but one thing he wasn’t was a heartless bastard. Sure, he and V weren’t exactly best chooms and exchanged heated barbs most of the time, but Johnny would never undeservedly give her shit. Especially not for something like this. 」

#masterlist #ao3 cartographers #hmmm don't mind me

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