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octopiys · 5 months

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I. a partridge in a pear tree

Wordcount: 3.2k+

Pairing(s): eventual Soap/Ghost, Price/Nikolai

Warnings: blood/violence, traumatic injury, chronic pain (written by someone with chronic pain), ptsd, hallmark Christmas

(Yeah, here's your stupid little hallmark Christmas fic. Find the masterlist here)

Here's to @bringinsexybackk69 , @impossibletopronounce , @phasing-through-walls , @rai-to209 , and @lemonwrap for encouraging me to write this lol

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that bad. Worse things have happened to him, and he knew that he'd snap back from it immediately right?

The gunfire was loud in his ringing ears, the young captain clearing the building quickly. One body, a second, a third, the room was clear. His sergeant followed behind them, the antennae of his radio sticking up above his helmet like a little bug.

"Room is clear, no sign of intel. Moving to the next room." He radioed, and his Sergeant, Roach, nodded in affirmation. Three more bodies to add to his report. God, he hated paperwork.

He stepped out into the hallway, messing with his throat mic some, distracted.

Being distracted in this field gets you killed. It was his first mistake in years.

The hallway was alight with gunfire, and before he knew it, he was firing back, a roaring pain ripping up his leg before a pair of gloved hands pulled him back by the vest, back into the room from before. Adrenaline was rushing in his ears, muting his senses, dulling his sight to a pinpoint. His hands were still on his gun at the ready, having slammed the door shut.

Then....

The door had been barricaded, and he wasn't sure when that happened. There was a face in his vision, almost too close.

"Sir- sir! Captain, stay with me, sir-" Roach's hands were moving frantically around his pants, and a few jokes crossed his mind, but his tongue felt like lead. Had he been drugged? He didn't recall any-

The young Sergeant pressed against his leg rather harshly, and a sharp yelp left his lips, pained and surprised. Roach looked worried, the lower half of his face visible underneath his heavy goggles, mouth pursed in a worried frown.

His sight was tinged with black, and it sounded like he was underwater. Slow-moving and muted, he tried to assess his surroundings. Gradually, he came to the conclusion that he was injured, a sharp pinch wrapping around his upper leg by a pressure formed as Roach wrapped a tourniquet tightly. Somehow, he processed that the wound was grisly, narrowly missing the bone.

Words like 'artery', or 'blood', or 'cornered' found themselves in his ears, often countered by 'pressure', or 'pack it', or 'back up' from the radio.

Worse things had happened, sure.

But it hadn't occurred to him at the time that he was bleeding out from a missed enemy in the hall. It hadn't occurred to him until Roach had taken off his blood smeared goggles, until Roach tried to get him to stand but he *couldn't*, until his vision swam and tipped, and the last thing he saw was Kate Laswell getting out of the helo, rushing towards him, looking scared-

It didn't occur to him until he was in the hospital, leg propped up with crutches at his side, staring at medical discharge papers, that this was worse than MacTavish thought.

It turned out that he couldn't snap back as well as he thought he could. He had no choice but to sign the papers, leaving his Sergeant, his best friend, and the rest of his task force behind.

But it didn't come easily. Recovery wasn't easy. Roach was there when he could be, under watchful eyes of Laswell. And when he was on a mission, or he couldn't make it, Soap did it all by himself. He stayed on the base hospital, unable to secure much of a place anywhere else.

PT was hell. They talk about it some in the movies or the shows, but they never really go through what it's like. They show the successes, and they don't show the failures. And believe him, he failed. A lot.

The first time, they had him propped up between two balance bars, using all of his upper body strength to keep himself upright. It was the pins and needles that hurt the most, starting at his hip, traveling down through his thigh, knee, and ending in his heel. And it hurt, like thousands of tiny bugs were crawling, climbing, gnawing through his skin like he was made of marshmello. The first step he took it worsened, the feeling angry, and it angered him. The second step was worse, the beams shifted, and he slipped, his legs completely giving out beneath him, and he hit the ground on his elbows. Hard.

The second time he did it, he made it four steps without falling.

The third time, he refused to get between the bars. Flat out denied the pitied looks from the nurses, the ones who didn't really care whether he made it through or not. Viewed him as another statistic, another job, just a patient they wanted to get out of the facility. He was so angry all the time, the inconsistent throb of pain shooting up his leg any time he moved, his medicine not being enough, the nagging feeling that he might be better off with just not going to physical therapy, that it wasn't really helping him.

After a week, Roach forced him to go back, threatened to break his crutches if he didn't abide. With a considerable amount of insistent pressure, he made it again.

The bruises on his elbows weren't worth it when he finally made it the entire length of the bars. Even if Roach was there to celebrate him, even if he's never seen the Sergeant so happy, even if he did make it, he kept telling himself he should've made it earlier than he had.

Roach stayed with him and attended more sessions since then. Claimed he was the emotional support sergeant.

Come the seventh session, or maybe it was the eighth, they began working on his upper body and balance once he could stand on his own. Tossing weight balls above his head, bouncing them on the wall, then catching them himself.

Roach was more of a help than his nurses, sitting with him when he needed a break, or when he was too frustrated to continue. He was like a caged bird, too cooped up, and he was going to go insane. Someone needed to throw a sheet over his cage to slow him down before he exploded into a mass of feathers and irritation.

The sandy haired Sergeant began doing his treatments with him, too. Up, down, jumping jacks, walking laps, weight balls up above his head. It was... beneficial.

He saw improvement. There had still been days where he couldn't leave his bed, the pain meds doing nothing to ease the ache that was so deep in his muscle that it was embedded worse than the bullet that put him out of commission. He could walk on his own. He couldn't run, not as fast as he used to without falling and hurting himself worse, but he could.... shuffle quickly.

"Roach, ah swear tae everything ye call holy-"

The Sergeant only laughed. "I'm sorry- really, sir, but have you- oh gods, have you seen The Walking Dead? You look like a-" He paused to take a breath, his entire body shaking with laughter. "You look like one of the Walkers from the first season, bloody hell, I'm sorry-"

Soap rolled his eyes, but a smile found itself on his face somehow because he did know what Roach was talking about, and he couldn't even deny the accuracy.

When he was officially discharged from the hospital, Roach threw him a celebration at the local bar. It was a small thing, but a few members from his force showed up, clapped him on the back, thanked him, and drank the night away. Even Kate showed up, which he was grateful for, until he figured out why.

"John," she starts slowly like she's making sure he knows that this is important. It's snowing outside, he notices, and finally it's the end of November.

"Och, Kate. Dinnae gimme that look." He hummed, nursing his drink, glancing a side eye at her. "Bad news?"

"Depends on who you ask." It's always refreshing to hear an American speak. Not that it was a bad thing. He liked the diversity. "I secured you a new location while you recover." He knew what she meant, and she was telling him to rest without actually saying it.

"Kate-"

"It's not far from here, actually. A while to drive, but we'll send you on a plane to save yourself from the pins and needles. It's a small town, pretty conspicuous. No one'll recognize you, if that's what you're worried about." She brushed a strand of hair out of her face as a bartender slid her a glass, and she accepted it with a smile of thanks. "A few old buddies of mine live there too. They like it well enough. They're old military too."

At her words, he imagined a bunch of gnarly old dudes, scarred from war and injury, and suddenly he felt like this was more of a retirement plan than a wait it out situation.

He scratched the scar on his chin, shifting in his seat to allow the brace on his leg to be comfortable. It never really was.

Kate reached for her hip and he reached for a weapon that wasn't there, mumbling a soft apology as she pulled out her phone to show him his new placement.

The city was small, more of like a mountain village. It was picturesque, like it was out of one of the old Christmas movies his Ma used to watch. The bakery seemed to be a main community point, as was the general store, and some form of petting zoo for.... elk?

"People are relatively kind too. Pretty accommodating, very.... accepting." There was another meaning there that went unsaid. "All you could ask for in a recovery town." She kept swiping through photos, and he took a larger swig of his drink this time around.

A small cabin showed up, a little off the main road near the outside of the town. Isolated enough, but if he needed to get anywhere in town he could do it quickly enough. Well, that is if he wasn't-

"It's small, but nice. I pulled some strings so the force paid for everything, and there's a training facility a few miles outside the city for your appointments. One bed, one bath, and the living room has a Murphy bed in case you have any need for guests. The kitchen works, but the sink is a little iffy on water pressure, so if you're looking for a project then-"

"It's great, Kate." Soap cut her off with a tight lipped smile. He caught Roach's eye down the bar, and the man gave him a concerned look before Soap stood, winced, and glanced at Kate again. "Really, it is. Thank you." He said, before limping off to the washroom.

Later, he might feel bad for being brisk with her, especially for everything she did for him.

The sink was on and the door had closed before he knew it, running his hands under cold water. A minute hadn't even gone by before Roach joined him, albeit almost hurriedly.

"Cap? You alright there?" Roach said, joining him at the sink side.

Soap, in the meantime, was naming five things he could see, four things he could hear-

"Ah'm doon good, Roach." He huffed, scrubbing his hands without soap, just using the cold.

"Bullshit, sir." Roach leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I mean, at least it's only temporary."

Soap paused, his hands stilling. "Laswell tell ye?"

"I heard enough." The Sergeant hummed softly, turning off the water for him. "Could be a nice change in pace for you. Gods know you won't put yourself in for vacation, think of this as as mandatory break, sir."

Soap dried his hands off and glared at him, but there was no malice behind it.

"Landscape is pretty enough, too-"

"I'll send you a postcard-"

"-You'll have a white Christmas by the looks of it." Roach continued as if he hadn't heard him. "And it could be worse. You could be relocated to... I don't know, somewhere with nothing. Like Illinois. What's in Illinois? Nothing."

Soap breathed a laugh through his nose, leaning against the sink. "Yer welcome tae stay if the family gets rough."

"I'm sure I'll take you up on that, sir."

It turned out that the airport didn't even have a commercial flight to the town, so he had to take a private plane. It was cold already, and he barely had a shoulder bag of things to bring with him, so he wrapped himself tighter in his windbreaker (which was definitely not enough) and made his way towards the gate.

A text came through his issued phone, from Laswell.

'My guy's in the blue jacket, should be getting out of the red chopper any second now'

Then a second one,

'Looks suspicious, I'm sure. But it's his pride and joy. I swear it's safe'

Soap scoffed and scanned the tarmac, looking for a red helo. Sure enough, he found one halfway down, and sure as shit a man in a blue jacket was stepping out of it, taking his headset off.

Soap begrudgingly began to hobble his way towards the chopper, meeting the pilot halfway. The man had shoulder length raven hair, and he was clearly built out, physique wise. His eyes were hidden behind aviators, and his face held a decent amount of stubble, but not yet a beard. With his blue jacket, he wore a black and white striped shirt beneath it, and a gold necklace.

"Are you Nikolai?" Soap shouted over the roar of the rudders.

"Laswell's man!" The pilot shouted back in a distinct Russian accent. Despite the ops they had been working on recently, Soap knew he could trust him. Laswell's friend and all. Nikolai stuck his hand out, shook Soap's, then took his bag and threw it in the cabin of the helo. "Are you afraid of heights, my friend?'

"Nae... why?"

But Nikolai only laughed in response.

They landed and Soap was never rmore glad to be on the ground than at that moment. Military trained his arse, he thought he was gonna die more times in that helo than the entire time he had to figure out how to pilot in enemy airspace after his original pilot had been shot in the throat.

Another hearty chuckle from Nikolai as a goodbye, but Soap supposes he'd met worse people. The Uber took him directly into town from the frosted over field where they had landed, and dropped him off in the square.

Very few people were milling about, the cold wind nipping his nose and turning his skin flushed red. His windbreaker was not sufficient enough for him, which meant he'd probably have to find some off the wall clothing store. His bag still over his shoulder, he decided to explore some.

Okay, he might not've gotten that far. The impromptu change in weather and atmospheric pressure made his leg act up, especially after being cramped in a plane, then a helo, then a car for so long. His brace was stiff, and really, he just needed to sit-

Which is how he ended up in a cornerstore bakery with a donut or two sitting next to his sketchbook, waiting on a mug of freshly brewed coffee. He's gonna swear by them now, best damn things he's ever eaten.

The bakery was a cute, quaint little thing that barely stuck out, but it, like the rest of the town, had been decorated to the nines for the holidays. The white brick of the back walls were washed in a warm yellow light of Christmas lights, hung around the corners of the room. Wreaths and garland lined the countertops, a little bell dining when one walked in. The large windows in the front weren't ignored either, fake snow and little jelly stick ons had been pressed onto the glass in preparation for Christmas. Soft music played from a speaker in one of the corners, and Soap had scored himself a two seater table, propping his leg up on the chair across from him and sighing from relief.

'Dinnae warn me how bloody cold it would be, Kate' He texted her.

Also, it was much warmer in here than it was outside.

He didn't get a response back.

The man from behind the counter brought him his mug, lingering around the table for a moment for any other questions.

Soap, for one, still had barely any idea what was going on, so he decided to take a shot in the dark.

"Er- this might be odd to ye, but do ye ken where Chestnut Road is? Haven't been able to find it from the streets-" Given, he hadn't looked much, however, he doubted he'd be able to find it in this- oh would you look at that, it's snowing.

The man pauses, before backpedalling a few steps. He flashed Soap a warm smile, and he noted the bits of frosting stuck to the man's face, along with some powdered sugar that had settled on the rim of the old blue baseball cap he was wearing. The man was very obviously cleaned up, his coiled hair tucked beneath his cap, his mocha colored skin practically glowing, and Soap could fail to find a single imperfection. "Chestnut Road? That's just right up the street, mate. You hit the light and take a left, follow it up the hill. You here to visit?" The man asked curiously, leaning on the table.

"Och nae, ah'm no tourist, just moved here this morn' from the air base a few hours southwest o' here." He tried to haphazardly explain.

"Oh, military too?" The man, who's name tag read 'Kyle' in a handwritten flourish, asked, like he wasn't that surprised.

"Are we an exotic breed, lad?" Soap joked, sipping from his mug with a kind of hesitancy behind his words.

"Nah. Get a few of em every couple years. I quit to take care of my dad when 'e got sick, then took over this place afterwards. Lots of baking skills to learn, y'know." Soap felt a bit of shock at that. Townspeople here are pretty open. And he was talking to the owner of this wonderful bakery-

"Wait, yer tellin' me ye made these yerself?" Soap gestured to the donuts with a grin.

"If you're gonna tell me they're bad, then no it wasn't me." Kyle joked back to him.

"Nae, I'd never!" He feigned a hand over his heart. "Best damn things ah've ever had!"

The baker's face flushed with pride, his chest puffing up a little. "Thank you, I appreciate it.... Uh- I'm Kyle, by the way."

"Johnny." He greeted smoothly.

"Gaz, the coffee machine is broken again!" A woman's voice called from the register, a shorter woman with tanned skin, a patterned scarf wrapped around her neck, and Kyle jumped to attention.

"Uh... I gotta go fix that, but I'll see ya around, yeah?" Kyle lightly punched Soap's shoulder. "If you need help moving in, let somebody know!" He called over his shoulder, before he sprinted back to the kitchen.

Soap gave a two finger salute, smiling, and went back to his sketchbook.

A fresh start. Something new. Huh.

How about that?

Taglist: open

#call of duty #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #modern warfare 2 #ghostsoap #captain john price #alejandro vargas #alerudy #kyle gaz garrick #kyle 'gaz' garrick #kate laswell #farah karim

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captain-mj · 11 months

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Hey, I commented on your fic but I just wanted to let you know that lemonwrap on AO3 wrote a fic that was pretty similar to yours, like point by point. When I looked through their account, it looked like they'd written another fic almost exactly like another of yours... A little death, I think. I just wanted to make sure that you were aware of it

Sorry this took me a couple days to answer!

I am aware of it, yes. They came to me and asked me if they could and I said I was uncomfortable with it both for myself and because of the anon who asked for it.

They went and asked the anon, who apparently commented on the oneshot, if they could. When they said yes, they came back and asked me, again.

I once again said I would rather they not.

I saw the day they uploaded it, but I wasn't sure how I wanted to handle it, yet. I wasn't even sure if I could handle it.

I am incredibly upset by this, for reasons I will state below.

I have read (I believe it was your comments) on their fic, and you are correct.

My wife, Bunnie, has an entire shifterverse. Shifter content exists on a multitude of scales and I do not need anyone to ask me permission for use of shifter content. However, they came and asked me first, said it would be fine if I said no, and when I said no, they wrote it, anyway.

It is also the same exact concept. It is about a wolf shifter, Ghost, in a fighting ring that Soap rescues. They even use the same plot point of Ghost refusing to shift back. There is also a few lines that are, while not being completely verbatim, just rewords of my own lines.

And, if they had never asked for permission and just did it anyway, it wouldn't really be the same level of a big deal. Yes, it would have sucked, but I honestly would have just let it go because, at the end of the day, it's fanfiction. Inspiration is the whole point of fanfiction.

However, the fact that they came and asked me first, then when I said no, I wasn't comfortable, they didn't take it as a full stop and instead went and asked the anon and then asked me AGAIN and when I AGAIN said I was not comfortable with it, they ignored me, wrote, published it, and if I remember from their A/N correctly, they lied about where they got the idea from.

I might be fuzzy on that one, I will admit.

I don't know if their fic is similar enough to A Little Death to really be concerned about it. There are also plenty of fics that are similar in concept, enough, for me to be willing to take that at face value.

Bunnie has a saying that goes; Once is a Mistake, Twice is Coincidence, and Three Times is a Pattern. Since we're only on the second one, I'm going to take it as coincidence.

However, as such, this situation has left me with a deeply icky feeling, and I'm going to be taking a step back until I figure out if I want to keep doing request based writing.

(And, once again, this is not about them drawing inspiration from my writing. This is about them asking my permission, me stating I was uncomfortable, and them squashing that and doing it anyway. So do not try to twist it to be about the first issue when it is not.)

[This was ghost-written by @callsign-bunnie because she articulates better than I do.]

Aside: The only person I am upset with in this situation is lemonwrap. They are the one who pushed down my boundary. I am not upset at the anon who said it was okay, and I am not upset at any of the comments defending them.

#cap speaks #fenrir and tyr cod au

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wheelsupin-five · 7 months

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Writing a military robot!ghost x robot repairman!soap fic (inspired by Call it fate by Lemonwrap on ao3 <33) and i wish i could be normal abt it

#it has a little over 1k words and they have exchanged like maybe 3 lines of dialogue lmao #i dont really know what the plot is either so wish me luck jskdjd #but if anyone would like to hear abt it .. (this is no pressure ofc)#ghost x soap #ghoap #ghostsoap #cod #mw2 #i also spent several hours yesterday trying to decide if ghost was gonna have a dick or not . still on the fence abt it

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lemonwrap · 1 month

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Imagine: Omegaverse AU where Ghost had his scent gland cut out by Roba.

Ghost barely survived it, and now he doesn’t have a scent of his own. He’s never tried, but it’s a logical assumption that he won’t be able to sustain a mating bond, either. He can usually pass his lack of scent off as just using the scent suppressants military members almost always use on missions, but it’s harder during downtime when there’s not such a need for them.

Ghost is close to Soap, flirting and bantering with him constantly, *likes* him, but he never outright tells him. He likes Soap’s scent, too, an odd but alluring combination of citrus and a hint of gunpowder—one would think the two scents together would be disgusting, but when it’s Soap, it’s not.

Ghost keeps the mask on to hide, and doesn’t lift it even to eat when others are around. It’s kind of a pain sometimes, really, and he’s considered being done with all the bullshit and just taking it off, but then Soap would know. He wants the bond and affection between them to last. It’s fucked up to lie to him, but Soap won’t want him when he finds out Ghost can’t actually bond with him, and Soap is the closest he’s been to someone in years.

Soap, while slightly skeptical of Ghost’s unwillingness to take off the mask, doesn’t entirely connect the dots and just thinks Ghost’s scent suppressants work amazingly.

Until the day Ghost sustains a head injury on a mission, that is. He’s losing blood fast and Soap can’t see a thing with the mask on, and he just barely convinces Ghost to take it off so he can staunch the blood flow better. Soap gets him patched up enough that he won’t bleed out on the way to exfil, but with the danger now past, he notices the deep, unmistakable scar of a botched scent gland removal on Ghost’s neck.

After Ghost is treated in medical, he makes an effort to avoid Soap, simply not wanting to bother with his pity or disgust.

He knows Soap liked him back at one point, but if they had ever gotten that far, they’d never be able to actually bond. Soap deserves a real mate.

Soap catches on by the end of the first day that Ghost is avoiding him, but Ghost is elusive if he wants to be, and Soap doesn’t catch him in the man’s favorite smoking spot on the roof until a week later.

Ghost hears him coming, but doesn’t pull his mask back down. Soap’s seen the scar anyways, so it doesn’t really matter.

“Long time no see, Lt,” Soap says.

Ghost doesn’t reply and takes a drag from his cigarette. He shouldn’t have let himself get so close to Soap, because he knew it’d go to shit once he found out about the scar. People usually date to bond. Ghost can’t do that.

Soap stands next to Ghost.

“Care to share?” Soap asks. Ghost hums and gives the cigarette to Soap, and they silently pass it back and forth until it’s a stub.

“Gonna tell me why you were avoiding me?” Soap asks, blowing out the last puff of smoke. “Kinda rude to vanish on someone like that.”

“Figured you’d know that one,” Ghost replies.

“If it’s about—“

Ghost cuts him off. “It is.”

“So you’ve been flirting with me and didn’t think to mention it? I’ve been wanting to fuck you for the past six fuckin’ months,” Soap says, sounding irritated. “Kiss would’ve been nice, too.”

“I didn’t because I knew you’d act like this,” Ghost says, pointedly ignoring the fact that Soap just admitted that he likes Ghost—or that he did at one point, anyway.

“So you like me?”

“Yes,” Ghost says, “but I think you can find someone that’ll be able to keep a bond.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Soap says resolutely. “I want you anyway.”

Ghost doesn’t scoff, but he sort of wants to. Of course it makes a difference.

“Just drop it, Soap,” Ghost says.

Soap does, for about ten seconds. Then he grabs Ghost by the collar and kisses him hard, smashing their lips together and biting at Ghost’s lips. Ghost kisses back just as hard, savoring how their bodies feel pressed together, hands gripping at each other’s clothes and skin.

This won’t last, but Ghost will take what he can get.

#Ghost and Soap could be any combo of alpha and/or omega tbh #I feel like it works either way #I’m imagining this as an eventual happy ending #Bonus if Ghost *can* be bonded with but Soap just has to renew the bite often ;)#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #call of duty #cod #lemonwrap writes #drabble

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lemonwrap · 6 months

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Okay, imagine: Merman Ghost and marine biologist Soap.

Soap is a young, intelligent marine biologist who is invited to study a newly acquired mermaid. Of course, the species is not newly discovered, but, like great white sharks, its proven impossible to keep them alive in captivity for more than a year or so. They’re also difficult to capture in the first place, and the only reason Ghost had been captured was because he had been injured.

Soap is introduced to Ghost. The tank is barren, with no hiding spots and not much substrate, so Soap gets an eyeful of the beautiful merman in the tank. He’s huge, with a sleek black tail, pale, scarred skin, and a matching set of gills on either side of his neck. The other researchers think that the scars are from nets, or perhaps from attacks from other members of his solitary species. Ghost swims up to the glass to investigate Soap, which surprises the other researchers, who describe him as elusive and reserved.

After being shown a tour of the facility, Soap gets started at his new job. His job is to study and observe Ghost, especially his behavior, so it’s no wonder that Soap ends up feeding him one day. Ghost pokes his head out of the water and watches Soap with sharp, intelligent eyes, but seems bored of the fish. Soap tries to talk to him, and Ghost is interested, but he doesn’t have the same vocal chords a human does, so he cannot speak like a human would.

The next week, Soap goes out of his way to get some fresh, exotic fish from a market, which Ghost greatly enjoys, judging by the happy chirp he lets out. They grow closer. Soap even picks up a book on British Sign Language and teaches both himself and Ghost so that they can communicate. Communication between mermaids and humans is unheard of, but Soap keeps it a secret because Ghost feels special to him. He knows he’s neglecting his work by not recording it, but he doesn’t tell a soul anyways.

Once he has the words, Ghost tells him of many things, from the fact that he liked the exotic fish that Soap had brought him, to that he had been attacked by a shark before he had been brought to the research center, to that he wishes he had hiding spots, to that he misses the ocean. Ghost even comes up with a special sign for his name. Soap gets him some accommodations, like a proper hiding spot and some plants for his enclosure, and tells him more about himself.

But as the time goes on, Ghost’s shiny scales grow dull, he becomes skinnier, his appetite lessens, his happy moods are much less frequent. Soap knows that his time is drawing near. It has to be. It’s been nearly a year of captivity, and the longest living mermaid in captivity had only lived a year and a half.

So he hatches a plan.

He stays late one night, and breaks Ghost out. He carries the merman out to his car and drives to the ocean nearby, and releases the ailing Ghost off of a pier. Ghost disappears in a flash, and Soap knows with an aching heart that he will never see him again.

It’s a few weeks before Soap returns to the pier where he released Ghost. He feels torn between missing Ghost, and knowing that releasing him was for the best. And then he notices something. A dark shape in the water stands out to him, and before he knows it, Ghost is peering out of the water, frantically signing Soap to him and chirping happily.

#cod #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost cod #soap cod #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #lemonwrap writes #drabble #mermaids

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lemonwrap · 1 month

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Retired domestic Ghoap where their first argument outside of work is over the layout of their garden, which way the toilet paper goes, or who should take out the trash this week because they both forgot whose turn it is

#They face a common enemy when their neighbor criticizes the tacky fake skeleton on their porch #Soap will still insist that the toilet paper goes over though #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #call of duty #cod #lemonwrap writes

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lemonwrap · 4 months

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Imagine: Jackalope hybrid Ghost.

Except…nobody knows he’s a jackalope hybrid, because Roba sawed off his antlers. Everyone thinks Ghost is just a regular rabbit hybrid. Not even his captain, Price, knows.

Ghost doesn’t tell a soul what had happened to him all those years ago. Sure, Price knows he had been tortured, and Ghost has some nasty scars, but he wears the mask anyway, so it’s not as if they’re visible.

It had taken Ghost some time to get used to the lack of weight on his head after he killed Roba and escaped, for the stumps to stop leaking blood, and for the pain to fade. It left him feeling unbalanced and strange, but that wasn’t the worst part.

No, the worst part was the shame. He had been proud of his antlers, loved keeping them clean and polished, loved the way they looked, loved that they could be dangerous if he wanted them to be.

He started wearing the mask just to make sure nobody would ever glimpse the small stumps left on his head, hidden in his blonde hair, as well as to hide the deep Glasgow smile he had been given.

He doesn’t tell Soap about his lack of antlers, even when they grow closer, even when Ghost finally pulls his mask off his head and over his long brown ears to kiss Soap for the first time. The dog hybrid’s tail had been wagging madly when they parted.

Then, Soap, his hand on his cheek, had moved up to pet his ears, much too close to the stumps. Ghost had ducked away, and Soap’s tail had slowed, disheartened. Soap had attributed his skittishness to typical rabbit nature, and Ghost let him think that. Afterwards, Ghost had grown his hair out even longer, just to make absolutely sure that it covered the stumps on the rare occasion he took off his mask.

Soap was one of the only people he took the mask off for, but he was also the person Ghost definitely didn’t want finding out about his antlers. It was a risky game he played.

Sometimes, it took a slight strain on their relationship. Ghost is extremely testy about Soap touching his ears and hair, as it’s much too close to the stumps he’s trying to conceal. When they have sex, Ghost doesn’t let Soap too close to his hair, and he had once nearly bitten Soap’s dick off during a blowjob when Soap’s hand had instinctively gone for the blonde locks. He prefers to initiate contact, and usually doesn’t cuddle much with Soap or hug him, despite the other hybrid’s clear longing for physical contact.

It’s not that Ghost doesn’t want to, he just can’t. He can’t let Soap know. What would he think?

Soap doesn’t find out until years after they met. They’re sharing Ghost’s bed in his private quarters—the perks of being a lieutenant. Ghost is tired, having come home from a mission just hours earlier, and he’s drifting off next to Soap, not paying attention until absentminded fingers card through his hair. He flinches awake and scrambles into a sitting position, but it’s too late.

Soap had felt one of the stumps.

“What’s that?” Soap asks, worried and startled by Ghost’s sudden reaction. He sits up as well.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ghost deflects. He wants to be upset that Soap had touched him, but he knows Soap didn’t mean it in a bad way, knows Soap would never purposely hurt or upset him. Despite that, his chest burns with a hot, deep shame, and he isn’t sure if he wants to run or punch Soap’s teeth in.

He doesn’t do either. He freezes. He hasn’t done that in ages.

“You didn’t get hurt on the mission, did you?” Soap asks, leveling him with a searching gaze.

“No,” Ghost says. Soap is much too close, so close that he can probably see the microexpressions that tell him that Ghost is hiding something.

“Liar,” Soap says softly, and he reaches his hand up.

Ghost’s large ears flatten, and he feels that fear he thought he had trained out of himself so long ago rise in him when Soap’s hand meets his hair. He stiffens, wanting to push Soap away but knowing the sergeant never drops something if he thinks it’s important, and that he’ll just be delaying the inevitable discovery.

Soap’s hand finds one of the stumps, and his fingertips brush across the hard, flattened surface. His expression changes from slight worry, to confusion, and then to sadness, his own ears drooping slightly.

“Simon,” he says, “Are they—?”

“They’re antlers,” Ghost admits quietly. “Were antlers.”

Soap is silent for a moment. He lowers his hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Soap finally asks. Not accusing, exactly, just concerned, maybe a little hurt.

“I didn’t tell anybody,” Ghost replies.

“Oh, Si,” Soap whispers, taking his hand and squeezing it. “You could’ve. It doesn’t change anything.”

Ghost hadn’t slept for the rest of the night, and had fled the room before Soap woke up. He had avoided Soap for days, and when Soap finally caught him, Ghost had refused to take off his mask. It took some time before he felt confident enough to remove it, safe enough to let Soap near his head.

Soap apologized. He apologized again when Ghost accepted the original apology. Ghost accepted that one, too. He’s not overly upset with Soap, just mortified. But his fear of Soap being upset, mocking him, or being judgmental was unfounded, as Soap treats him nearly the same as before. Soap doesn’t ask him any questions about the stumps, nor does he tell anyone else about them.

He realizes that now that Soap knows, now that he’s not holding the stress of hiding it, it feels…nice. It’s a relief. It’s a relief to let Soap cuddle him and nuzzle into his hair without having to push him away, and it’s a relief to not have to lie to the person closest to him.

Ghost feels safer than he has in a long, long time.

#cod #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #lemonwrap writes #drabble #jackalope hybrid ghost #dog hybrid soap #I think antlers actually grow back but shhhhh it’s for angst purposes

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lemonwrap · 4 months

Text

Imagine: werewolf Ghost turning Soap to save his life.

The mission to find Makarov goes to shit. Ghost isn’t there in time to prevent Soap from being shot. He is there in time to see Makarov fire a bullet straight through Soap’s skull, to see his beloved sergeant crumple to the ground like a sack of bricks.

He’s over to Soap’s side in a flash, clutching him close and calling his name frantically as the blood pours out. Soap is quickly dying, and there’s nothing he can do.

No, there’s one thing.

He shifts faster than he ever has in his life, in less than thirty seconds. A werewolf’s bite does nothing unless they’re in their wolf form. His clothes and gear are torn to shreds, and he pays no mind to Gaz and Price nearby as he grabs Soap’s arm, and, in a fit of desperation, sinks his teeth in.

It was the one thing he vowed he would never do. He would never turn a human. But he can’t let Soap go, he can’t just not do the one thing that could save his life. With a werewolf’s superior healing, Soap might have a chance.

Soap doesn’t die, but it’s a damn near thing. They take him to a nearby hospital, get him admitted and under the care of multiple doctors.

That was three days ago. It’s common knowledge that a human bitten by a shifted werewolf would turn within three days, and Ghost hopes that Soap is still unconscious when it happens, because the first time is a terrifying, painful process. He had been turned by Roba in his twenties. All day, he watches Soap carefully, but the man shows no signs of waking up from his medically induced coma.

Soap doesn’t wake up for another two weeks. When he does, he’s confused and utterly disoriented, and doesn’t recognize Ghost or the rest of the 141. Ghost pretends it doesn’t hurt. Even so, Ghost tells him that he had bitten Soap to save him, and Soap understands, is grateful even, thanking Ghost.

Despite his initial condition, Soap’s healing is remarkable. After a week, he recognizes his comrades again, and seems to be relieved of some of the confusion he had experienced. The wound near his temple begins to close up.

Ghost spends most of his days in Soap’s room. That room is where Soap and Ghost share their first kiss, Soap’s shaking hands grasping at Ghost’s jacket as their lips meet, Ghost whispering a soft Johnny against his lips.

Soap healed extraordinarily well, but even the healing powers of a werewolf can’t fully diminish the off and on numbness in his limbs, tremors, mood swings, and brain fog.

They medically discharge him.

Soap goes home to Scotland, and Ghost follows. For a week, they settle in, but Soap shows no signs of transforming, despite his apparent possession of a werewolf’s regenerative abilities.

It’s a good day when Soap shifts for the first time. He’s bright and happy, like the sergeant Ghost knew before, and his confusion is almost entirely gone. His tremors lessen, and Soap hasn’t complained of the numbness that sometimes annoyed him.

What he does complain about is the sudden onset of a full-body ache, as if his bones themselves are throbbing. He becomes suddenly irritable, clawing at his skin and hair and pacing, snapping at Ghost and groaning in pain.

These are signs he knows. Soap’s going to transform, and he’s going to transform quick now that it’s set in.

“Ghost, w-what do I do?!” Soap stammers, looking like he’s trying not to panic, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He’s never seen Soap panic before.

“Just relax, Johnny,” Ghost says soothingly, because he knows there’s nothing he can do other than support him. Nothing can stop lycanthropy except death. “It’ll be alright.”

“It hurts!” Soap cries out sharply, and then his cry becomes a choked sound not unlike a growl. He drops to his knees and hunches over, putting his hands on his head and gripping his hair between his fingers.

And then he starts to shift.

His mouth elongates into a snarling muzzle, baring sharp white canines, his ears lengthen and migrate to the top of his head, and the hair he’s holding between his fingers turns into fur. Soap sobs and says something that sounds like Ghost’s name, but then his vocal chords change, too, and it turns into a throaty bark. His spine and bones lengthen and grow denser, his fingernails morph into sharp claws, and a tail grows out of his spine as patches of fur grow over his skin.

It’s a few harrowing moments filled with Soap’s agonized cries and whines that make up Soap’s first shift. Ghost knows the feeling, and his stomach knots with sympathy. His own first shift had been one of the most painful things he had ever experienced.

Now fully shifted, Soap is huge, easily eight feet tall when standing upright, with a brown pelt just like his hair, a stripe along his back, long limbs, sharp claws, and a fluffy tail. His wild blue eyes, alight with fear, fixate on Ghost. Ghost tenses, nearly expecting Soap to try to attack him. He knows Soap could rip him apart before he’d have the chance to shift and fight back. That’s what he did to Roba, after all.

Soap does no such thing.

Instead, Soap lets out a whimper and curls in on himself, his tail going between his legs and his claws digging scratches into the floor. He doesn’t look like an eight foot tall killing machine, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“Johnny?” Ghost says quietly.

Soap’s blue eyes glance over to him, and he lets out another pleading whimper. His eyes hold a look of betrayal, of sorrow, of why me? His jaws open and something strangled comes out, like Soap’s trying to speak, but Ghost knows that they can’t, not in this form.

“Oh, Johnny,” he murmurs, and cautiously steps forward. He knows it’s dangerous to get in another werewolf’s space like this, but it’s Soap. When it comes to Soap, all rational thoughts fly out the window.

He reaches forward and gently touches Soap’s arm. Soap stiffens, and Ghost thinks he’s fucked up big time until Soap stumbles onto his hind legs, nuzzles into the crook of Ghost’s neck, and wraps his arms around Ghost. His claws catch on Ghost’s clothing and dig in as he grips Ghost tightly, and Ghost is momentarily stunned. He had acted in no such manner the first time he had shifted.

“See, Johnny? I told you it’d be alright,” Ghost says softly when he gets over his brief moment of surprise.

Soap stays shifted for the rest of the day, and shifts back as soon as his body is able.

It’s from there that Ghost teaches Soap how to handle his werewolf form. He transforms with Soap often, and they travel through the fields near Soap’s cabin, wrestle, play, and bond.

Ghost has never felt as understood or happy in his entire life. It’s a good life, what they’ve made for themselves.

#Wrote this in like an hour #The original plan was that Soap got stabbed but then MWIII came out lol #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #werewolf soap #werewolf ghost #werewolves #drabble #lemonwrap writes #lame ending sorry guys

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lemonwrap · 4 months

Text

You know these ridiculous doors in an apartment complex you might’ve seen on Twitter?

Imagine: an AU in which Soap and Ghost are neighbors…Except their doors are close. Very close.

They’re both in their late thirties or early forties. Ghost retired after sustaining an ACL tear, and Soap retired after suffering a back injury.

Simon is woken up early in the morning the sound of a bang and muffled cursing. He groans, gets out of bed, and opens his door just to be met face to face with a man.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” said man swears, taking a step back and dropping the box he’s holding.

“Good morning,” Simon says dryly, watching as the box thumps loudly to the ground. It’s about an inch away from his feet with how stupidly narrow the hallway is.

The man blinks at him. He’s awfully handsome, and with how they’re standing barely a foot apart, Simon can see how ridiculously blue his eyes are. He’s got a mohawk, some stubble, and an interesting scar on his chin. A new neighbor, Simon supposes.

“Morning,” the man says, bending down with a wince to pick up the box, but pauses. He hisses lightly with pain.

“You alright?” Simon asks.

“Busted up back,” the man replies. He’s got a Scottish accent, too. Charming. Simon silently picks up the box for him, careful not to bend his knee too much.

“Name’s Simon,” he says. He has no idea why he’s introducing himself, as he doesn’t talk much to anyone in the complex. The life of a retired veteran can be lonely, but Simon doesn’t always mind.

“John,” the man replies, flashing him a clearly grateful smile. Simon hands John the box, and when he turns around to go put the box in his new apartment, Simon goes back inside his own respective apartment and shuts the door. He’s not usually big on social interaction anyway.

He thinks that’s the last he’ll see of John, until he’s going out to run an errand and bumps right into a man when he’s turning around after locking his door. The two of them nearly fall, but Simon grabs the man’s wrist and steadies them.

His new neighbor, John, grins up at him. “Nice to see you again.”

Simon releases him, and John steps out of his space as much as he can. Simon swears his cheeks feel a little warm—maybe he’s coming down with something.

“How’s the back?” Simon asks gruffly. Why is he even asking? Jesus, he needs to get out of here.

“Shite as usual,” John says, shrugging.

“See you around,” Simon says abruptly, and he brushes past John.

The interactions don’t stop there. They regularly run into each other at various times, half of the time dropping groceries, bumping a funny bone against a door, or ending up much too close to each other. To his dismay, Simon realizes that he doesn’t mind his encounters with John, and he begins to look forward to them.

A few months after meeting John, it’s yet another day of the two of them accidentally crashing into each other. John drops his keys, and Simon nearly trips over John’s foot.

“Shit,” John laughs. “We’ve gottae stop meetin’ like this.”

Simon huffs out a laugh and bends down to pick up John’s keys, remembering his bad back. He just about slams his head into John’s chin when he stands up, but he doesn’t take much of a step back. He presses the keys into John’s hand, and John takes them with one of those bright smiles of his that Simon’s slowly grown to know.

“Come in for coffee?” John asks, and Simon can’t refuse.

#I saw those stupid doors and the brain worms got to me #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #neighbors au #lemonwrap writes

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lemonwrap · 4 months

Text

Imagine: Ghost’s mask is permanently attached to his face.

It’s probably with pins in the bones, or something like that to make it extremely difficult or even impossible to remove. It hurts to eat and talk, so Ghost doesn’t speak much, and it keeps his identity hidden at first. It was Roba’s doing, of course.

It had been the 141’s job to take down Roba, which is why they were in Mexico in the first place and came across Ghost as he was escaping after killing Roba. They take him in, and Ghost becomes familiar with Price, Soap, and Gaz, the members of Task Force 141. Despite his trauma and initial reluctance, Ghost grows very close to Soap, begins to see Price as an almost father-like figure, and becomes good friends with Gaz.

They make it their mission to remove the mask.

#Does the timeline here make sense? Not quite but I can do what I want #They would all be on the younger side in this AU #Inspired by a fic I read years ago about the Winter Soldier #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #task force 141 #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #maybe? could also be platonic/not an established relationship as well #lemonwrap writes

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lemonwrap · 18 days

Text

Ghost with synesthesia, who associates certain colors, patterns, and shapes with voices and songs he knows well. His absolute favorite is the vivid, rich orange and red splotches that he pictures when he hears Soap talk.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #call of duty #cod #lemonwrap writes

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lemonwrap · 2 months

Text

Do you guys remember that Twitter thread where this guy was putting flowers on a (unbeknownst to him) murder victim’s grave and was caught by a family member of the stranger, except they hit it off and got married? Imagine that with Ghoap.

Johnny is paying respects to his father’s grave, but notices that the grave right next to his is completely void of flowers. He’s more sentimental than he’d like to admit, and spares a few of the flowers meant for his father for the stranger’s grave. His father wouldn’t have minded.

He keeps up the habit of placing a few flowers on the stranger’s grave every time he visits his father’s grave. After a few years, Johnny gets curious and looks up the name on the stranger’s grave.

In five seconds flat, an article pops up with the man’s name. Well, it turns out the man brutally murdered his wife and son, and then committed suicide. Johnny is absolutely mortified when he realizes he’s been giving flowers to a murderer.

He ends up figuring out where the poor murdered wife and son’s graves are. It’s a small cemetery, so it’s not hard. This time, he puts the extra flowers on their graves instead, and mutters a soft apology.

Johnny just about shits his pants when a voice asks, “Who are you?”

He spins around to see a man standing nearby with two bouquets of flowers in his hands. He’s tall and blonde, with a few scars on his face.

“Um,” Johnny says eloquently. Oh, god. This guy is probably related to the wife and son, and he’s just caught some suspicious man he’s never met leaving flowers.

“Explain yourself,” the man says, seeming to quickly grow irritated.

“I—I was just leaving some flowers,” Johnny replies.

“On some strangers’ graves?”

“…Aye,” Johnny says, then rushes to explain, “Well, I was putting some flowers on my da’s grave, and the one next to him had none. So I started puttin’ flowers on that grave, too, but then I found out he was a murderer—so I wanted to give these flowers to his victims to make up for it.”

The man is completely silent throughout Johnny’s hurried explanation, and his face gives away nothing. Johnny is fully prepared to be yelled at or punched, and to be buried right next to his father when this man is through with him.

But then the man snorts and lets out a laugh.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Dead serious,” Johnny says, and nearly facepalms when he realizes that he said that while standing in a goddamn cemetery.

“Well, I guess I don’t mind too much,” the man says, and walks past Johnny to put the bouquets on the two graves. “That’s my mum and brother.”

“Sorry,” Johnny says, still feeling guilty.

“It’s not like you were the one that murdered them,” the man shrugs.

“I’m Johnny,” he says, because it’s only polite he introduces himself.

“Simon,” the man replies.

“Listen, Simon, can I take you out for a drink or somethin’? Make this up to you?” Johnny asks impulsively.

Simon fixes him with a searching look, and then smiles and says, “Sure.”

That was four years ago. It turns out that he and Simon have a lot in common, and they hit it off immediately. They started dating a year later, undeniably attracted to each other, and Johnny has been secretly shopping for an engagement ring recently. They still visit their family’s graves often, and Simon is clearly amused every time the story of how they met is brought up. Who knew a cemetery was where Johnny would find the love of his life?

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #cod #lemonwrap writes

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