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that-one-hom0 · 9 months

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god im fuckin. thinkin abt soap distancing himself from ghost when roach comes back. cause hes been vying for the lieutenants affection for a while, but then roach is there and ghost is so obviously besotted with him and they have a history and they obviously in love so what place does he have to get in the way of that?

then roach, whos heard so much from ghost about the sergeant and how good he is, goes and starts talking to soap and befriends him, and soap is drawn back closer to ghost and he soon realizes that fuck. hes in love with roach too.

but ghost and roach are happy together. theyre happy and in love and, again, who is he to get in the way of that? he hasnt known either of them as long as theyve known each other, he hasnt been through as much as them, and hes not worthy of them. not the way theyre worthy of each other.

so he pushes himself away again. everytime theyre together it hurts. every smile roach gives him when hes ranting. every chuckle ghost gives when he tells a stupid joke. every pat on the arm he gets after a good mission, every bit of praise he gets after doing good on the field, everything- it all hurts.

so he pushes away. he makes excuses to skip out on invitations to hang out, he stops ranting so much, he goes to meals earlier than usual to avoid the pair (even when ghost gets up at an ungodly hour in the morning) and eats as fast as his stomach can handle, he spars with gaz or konig or anyone other than ghost or roach.

he doesnt really expect them to notice that hes distant- at the very least expect them to care. but as time goes on it gets harder and harder to stay away, to the point where he starts to spend his breaks in his room instead of somewhere open. he starts sneaking snacks into his room for when he doesnt eat enough at meals because roach had dropped down right next to him with his own food and tried to start a conversation. he swears he fills out his sketchbooks three times faster than before with all the free time he has.

he ignores the ache he feels from being apart from them- its better that its him feeling that instead of making things awkward with ghost and roach.

eventually he ends up cornered- very nearly literally- with ghost guarding the doorway and roach with one hand on the wall next to his head and one pushing his chest, pinning him against the wall. it flusters him more than he'd like to admit.

roach asks whats going on with him, and he starts to spew out some fib about being swamped with work, but then ghost is way closer than before and he places a hand on the other side of soaps head and leans in and fucking growls "thats bullshit, sergeant." and soap lets out an honest to fucking god whine. on the fucking spot. hes surprised his legs didnt give out and drop him to his damn knees right then and there. hes too caught up in his embarrassment that he doesnt hear the way roachs breath hitches, or the way ghosts gaze gets a little darker.

ghost reaches out and grabs his chin, making him look him directly in the eyes.

"tell the truth, johnny."

and soap cant fucking hold the words back anymore.

"im in love with you! both of you!"

but he doesnt stop at a simple confession- he figures that maybe if he rambles long enough theyll get annoyed enough that theyll fucking forget what he just said, that theyll miss the point of the conversation, that he wont have fucked everything up.

"soap- johnny- johnny."

he stops, catching his breath the best he can.

"you've been avoiding us.... because youre in love with us?"

soap swears that hes on the verge of tears as he nods. he expects something- disgust, anger, annoyance- but he doesnt expect roach to lean in and press him lips against his own. his mind goes blank.

he cant help but lean to chase roach a bit when he pulls away, and he has only a moment of fuzziness before his eyes widen snap to ghost, distress filling him once again, and he tries to stutter out an apology but is cut off by ghost lifting his mask and kissing johnny himself.

when they part, its all johnny can do to look at both of them and breathe out an "oh."

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that-one-hom0 · 9 months

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Biblically accurate Ghost. Give.

Delivered! Hope you're the original person

Soap wasn’t sure when exactly he started to notice Ghost was… different. Besides the obvious stuff. Yeah, he moved quicker and quieter than average. That was normal for a person in the SAS. He had weird quirks. All normal honestly. He wasn’t the only person who never took off a mask. Half the Shadows didn’t. Several recruits had permanent medical masks. It was strange and he teased him, but it wasn’t exactly the strangest thing about him.

Ghost’s back moved. Well, to be more accurate, his shirt rippled. Something slid and moved beneath it. When Soap pointed it out to Gaz, Gaz claimed it was the work of shadows. Though funnily enough, the two of them were never alone in the same room again.

Price never gave anything away, but Soap started to pay attention and he noticed the way he tensed when Ghost first entered a room before relaxing on cue every time. If he had to have his back to someone, it was always Ghost. He did more dangerous things if Ghost was there.

Soap had no idea what made him first get suspicious. Part of him wondered if he was working himself into a frenzy over nothing. If his desperation to be close to Ghost made him make conspiracy theories.

But he knew what made him realize it was bigger than some quirks. It was when someone shot Price point blank and nothing happened.

They all saw it. The person slipped by them and their bullets sprayed across where Price was. And nothing happened.

Nothing.

There were bullets by Price’s feet. No other explanation.

Price had called it a miracle and then never acknowledged it again. When it got brought up, Price simply looked away. He said they shouldn’t question fate.

It was strange.

Then, Gaz broke his arm. It was so clearly broken. Snapped and hanging wrong. His fingers didn’t move.

Soap got the stuff to wrap it. He felt the break in the bone. The two separate breaks in the bone.

Ghost scoffed. “It’s nothing.” He stalked over.

Gaz scowled. “Are you serious??”

Ghost grabbed his arm hard. And twisted. It looked painful. But Gaz didn’t flinch. He stopped and stared at his arm, slowly moving his fingers.

Soap felt his arm. Nothing. Clean bone. Not a hint of any damage.

He saw the look in Gaz’s eyes.

“Just a sprain, Sergeant.” Ghost walked away from him and continued to guard them.

Gaz started at Soap. Soap stared back.

He checked the medical records of his team. They had far less than anyone else. Far far less. Not all of it could be blamed on them being better trained than the others.

Soap waited for his moment. For the bullet to miss. The bone to heal. Or shrapnel to just miss his skin.

This mission, the knife went through his ribs and punctured his lungs but there was no blood. No bleeding. He wasn’t drowning in his own blood.

That didn’t stop the blow to his head. That he smashed to the ground at the same time as Ghost.

One of them stabbed Ghost with something. It looked like a blade but it was shaped weird.

Ghost stopped fighting. Soap could hear the tiny, heart wrenching whimper the pain got out of him before Ghost quickly regained control of himself and shut up. His body looked broken. Laying there in a way that unsettled something in Soap’s chest. Big brown eyes stared right into Soap from that skull mask.

Soap didn’t feel a thing. Even when the butt of the gun slammed into his temple. When he woke up, he didn’t even have a headache. There was a taste of blood in his mouth, but nothing else.

He had been tied up pretty tight, but there were no guards. The chair was just wooden. Soap gritted his teeth and fell back, feeling the legs snap before it even hit the ground.

How insulting.

If Ghost was in a similar situation, that would explain the lack of guards. He probably killed them all.

Soap found his gear on the table behind where he was sitting, just out of sight if he was still tied up. He grabbed his radio and tried calling out.

It was a miracle he got a response from Price.

“Bravo 6 this is Bravo 7-1.”

“Soap.” Price dropped the titles so Soap followed suit. “Where are you?”

“Facility of some kind. Don’t think I’ve been out too long so can’t be far from where we were. Haven’t seen Ghost yet. I’ll find him though.”

“You both got captured?” Price’s voice sounded rather worried. “Something happen?”

Soap sighed. “Just got the jump on us. One of them stabbed me. One of your little miracles happened.”

“That explains it.” Price responded, which was honestly just cryptic as all hell. “Find Ghost. We’ll be there soon.”

Soap frowned and put his tac vest back on. He tightened it and put one of the plates in it in case he ran into trouble. Everything was quiet. Very quiet. He found some people but they all were dazed. Barely reacted to him before he shot him.

“Did you know?” One of them mumbled.

Soap held the gun steady. “What?”

They didn’t attack him just grabbed their cross. “May God forgive me for my transgressions. I beg for forgiveness.”

Soap was unnerved. This soldier had set his gun to the side.

He didn’t get a chance to stop them. Just watched their brains splatter against the wall.

Soap continued on. Something was wrong. These weren’t shadows. They had a weird logo instead.

As he searched further into the facility, more and more of them were normal. Immediately starting to fight back. One of them didn’t bother to shoot, aiming instead to bash his brains in. Soap stabbed him, watching blood that looked a little too dark splash everywhere.

Maybe, with everything that had happened, he shouldn’t be as shocked. But opening the door to see Ghost was a nightmare. One of the liminal ones that leave you questioning reality for days afterward.

Soap almost left, not recognizing Ghost as… Ghost. There was a man with many thin blades, almost like spears, going in and out of his body with blooms of golden ichor. Through his hands, his torso and his…

His….

The wings.

Three giant pairs, all bending and twisting oddly. Soap couldn’t be sure if it was because of the spears or if they naturally looked like that.

Without his mask and the rest of his clothing, it took noticing the tattoos to realize who he was staring at. Ghost was kneeling, head down, arms stretched and twisted slightly, probably to keep him from trying to escape. It meant the spears tangled with the muscle instead of just going through it.

“Simon?”

A slow hum. It echoed and reverberated around the room, starting borderline inaudible before coming increasingly loud. Right before it could reach the horrific crescendo, when Soap’s ears felt on the edge of bleeding and bursting, Ghost cut himself off and looked at him.

Something black oozed from his eyes, staining his cheeks all the way down to his chest. Where he was run through, there was no red, just the stunning gold color of ichor. It did not puddle underneath him, instead it made intricate symbols on the floor.

Even hurt and trapped, Ghost was ungodly gorgeous. Ethereal. That’s the word.

“Don’t be afraid.” Ghost said softly. Voice echoing and breaking and flitting around the room.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Soap stepped a bit closer. He most certainly was. Thought not of Ghost.

His wings were so big. They took up every bit of space in the room. The spears cut straight through them, breaking feathers and bones. Though, it appeared as if Ghost had healed around them somewhat, which might make removing them even harder.

“They’re very sharp. Be careful.” Ghost mumbled, his head falling back down. Soft ginger blond hair looked matted with gold ichor.

Soap had been wrong Spear was not the best word. It was more like razer wire that had been yanked taut. He found a knife but it couldn’t cut through it and the pained sounds Ghost made from the vibrations was enough to make him stop.

Instead, Soap found where each strand was being held, usually tied to one of the loops in the floor next to Ghost. Ghost sat as quietly and as still as he could.

Soap’s thoughts wandered. He had an angel. An actual angel. Right here at his fingertips. His hand slid through the feathers, trying to find where a particularly nasty looking wire was cutting the flesh.

Silk, egyptian cotton, velvet, none of the fanciest materials he could think of came close. It was softer than down. Warmer than sunlight.

He found the wire and removed it. The slow process of pulling the wire through his wing and then letting it hang from the ceiling or wall or wherever the other side was.

Mind numbing. The work was repetitive. That’s what he blamed on the fact that he was crying.

The ones through Ghost’s… more human looking parts of his body were actually spears. He yanked them out as quickly as possible. Ghost clearly wouldn’t die from something as dumb as internal bleeding.

Soap went to catch him but Ghost didn’t fall. Just stayed kneeling. With nothing to stop it, more blood poured from the wounds, gathering with the rest of it on the floor and continuing the intricate symbols.

“Simon, you gotta get up.”

Ghost tried. He pulled himself to his feet and then grabbed Soap hard. His tactical pants were soaked in red and gold. His chest exposed but so bloody he might as well be covered. But the main concern was his face.

Soap checked his gear, trying to see if he had anything they could use. Anything at all. Ghost took advantage of the fact that he was distracted and buried his face in his shoulders.

Soap paused in surprise, feeling warm breath against his skin. Shivers wracked Ghost’s body and Soap wondered if he was wrong and he could bleed out.

“I got you, Simon. Being so tough for me.” Soap whispered nonsense to them. They were on an enemy base. Current whereabouts unknown. Price was looking but that could take ages. He didn’t need Ghost in fighting condition, but he did need him okay.

“Are you hurt?” Ghost asked softly. “I can heal you.”

Soap shook his head. “Absolutely not. No. I’m fine. Just focus on you.” He pet his hair, trying not to grimace when the ichor stuck to his hand, shining against his skin.

Ghost stayed quiet.

Soap managed to find his clothing in a closet connected to the room. He helped Ghost get dressed, including his tac vest. Needed to keep him safe.

Ghost watched him as he moved, head lolling any time he wasn’t focused. Even well dressed, he looked wrong. His wings were very visible. They were smushed instead of artfully disappearing. Then they just tore through everything. Stretching out and once again filling all the air in the room. Ghost’s tatters of a shirt just fall around his chest and arms.

Soap stared at him and sighed. “Alright, can’t do that. No big deal! Just gotta get you out of here, okay?”

Ghost looked weary. He nodded along and grabbed Soap’s hand, but if he had his way, he’d just lay down and suffer the consequences.

But Soap could never let him do that. He dragged him along and kept his gun out despite how empty the halls seemed. Full of dead people. Some clearly self inflicted and some clearly not.

“I tend to have this effect on people.” Ghost joked, watching all the carnage with such emptiness. He didn’t care they died. The world was honestly better for it.

Soap held him tight and got them outside. He started to speak into his radio again. “Price, come in. We’re outside of the building. Looks like we’re on a hill.”

“Closer to God.” Ghost mumbled, sinking back down into a kneel.

Price quickly replied. “We think we’ve located you. Should be there in less than 5. What did Ghost just say?”

Soap stared at the bloody wings. “You’ll see when you get here sir,”

Ghost stayed kneeling, head tilted back to look at the stars. Soap realized he was praying. Kinda. It wasn’t in english but it sound like prayer.

His wounds stayed there though. Soap kept waiting for them to magically heal. He didn’t know why. But they didn’t stop bleeding.

Ghost looked pale, but his hair had a faint glow. He got up when Price arrive.

Price stared at him, blinking his eyes slowly. Gaz went to grab Soap before shuddering and stepping back. Ghost sank down further, smashing to the ground like a piece of china.

Soap almost thought he would shatter.

It was remarkable how easily they all just… ignored it. Price and Soap helped Ghost while Gaz kept watching, firing at anyone that got close. They left a thick trail of gold behind them, but it wasn’t something they wondered about very much. Just… needed to get Ghost to the heli.

Soap had never been a religious man. But with Ghost right there, a glorious angel, though not nearly as scary as he was expecting.

Nik stared at the giant wings and slowly raised his sunglasses. “Price, what the hell?”

Price stared at him. “I don’t… know. Just, just fucking fly.”

Nik got them in the air faster than the last time they were being shot at.

Soap watched Ghost start to kneel again and he quickly grabbed him, pulling him into the seat instead. Ghost fell into his side. Vulnerable. Beautiful. Angelic.

Soft lips stained gold. Giant white wings that were soaked. Wounds along his wings that still hadn’t healed.

“What do you need?” Soap asked, feeling useless. He wanted to help him.

Ghost looked at him, eyes so incredibly dark. “Can I sleep on your shoulder?”

“Yeah. Of course, Simon.” He pulled him so his head was resting on him. It surprised him how quickly he fell to sleep. Ghost shivered and Soap looked at Price who nodded and looked for more clothing. Without his balaclava and only half of a shirt, he looked small somehow. And cold.

An angel.

Simon Ghost Riley.

A man whose hands were soaked in blood.

A bloody angel.

Soap shook his head before quickly stopping when Ghost moaned in pain. “Sorry, didn’t mean to jostle ya.”

Ghost buried his face in Soap’s neck and dozed back off. He stared there for the majority of the trip, barely reacting when Price pulled a thick jacket around him. It just barely covered his wings, but it looked like it was the material instead of something underneath it.

Gaz and Price took Ghost from Soap. It was because all of the adrenaline had left Soap, leaving him sore all over from being hit, but it didn’t feel that way. Ghost felt stolen from him.

Nik followed, clearly invested. Soap had never noticed the crucifix around his neck.

“Russian Orthodox. Haven’t followed in a while.” Nik explained.

Soap wished he had his rosary. “Scottish Catholic. Also haven’t followed in a while. Kinda regret that now.”

Nik nodded wordlessly and they all managed to go to Ghost’s room. Ghost was still clearly dazed, falling in and out of consciousness. He laid on the bed and pulled off his jacket, laying on his stomach. His skin had slowly started to stitch back together.

Gaz carefully used the back of his hand to move one of the wings and they could see where the majority of the skin on his back had a weird glow with dozens of intricate symbols burned into him. The wings were not orderly and in two straight lines like one would expect. There was no symmetry that was discernible. Just chaotic placement.

Soap looked over the wings again and realized they were not, in fact, three sets. Each wings was a slightly different size. They folded perfectly, blending together to look like a normal pair of wings on a bird.

It was unsettling.

There were also… lines. Little spots among of the feathers were there were… wounds? Possibly? It was hard to tell.

Price stared. “I always assumed he was just a lucky bastard. Or maybe that there was some demon deal he made that I didn’t know about. Not quite… this.”

“Demons don’t make deals.” Ghost croaked, eyes opening. His arms were folded to his chest. “Those things Soap killed were demons. The ones that bled black.”

Soap frowned. “You can shoot them to death?”

“Rather easily. Just like how they almost killed me with those spears…” Ghost went into his nightstand and grabbed his mask, slipping it on.

Gaz stepped back a little. “What’s taking so long for you to heal?”

“Lot of damage. It hurts. I’m sorry.”

Soap frowned. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah, but I damned you guys to hell.”

“What?”

“You know. Gazing upon an angel. Don’t exactly have to trust in god if you have proof.” Ghost shrugged.

Panic rippled through the room for a solid minute. Gaz started to hyperventilate while Nik stared blankly at him for a solid moment.

“Kidding. Kidding. I’ll pull some strings for you guys.”

Soap hit his shoulder. “Asshole.”

Price tried to break the tension. “Thought angels were supposed to be scary looking, not making scary jokes.”

“You don’t think I’m scary looking?”

Price hesitated. “No?”

Ghost paused what he was doing and looked at him.

The things in his wings opened.

Dozens.

Hundreds.

Maybe thousands of… eyes.

All blinking and focusing their sole focus on Price. They vibrated in their sockets, spreading and narrowing and opening and closing and…

Price winced but didn’t back down. He stared at him until Ghost relaxed and put his wings back down.

“Guess I’m not scary anymore.” Ghost stretched and flopped back down. “Can you guys leave me alone?”

Price left the moment it was asked of him. Gaz lingered, watching him until Nik tugged him away.

Soap did not leave.

“Johnny…”

“Simon. I get why you wouldn’t tell me. Don’t worry. Are your wings heavy?”

“Yes.”

“What about your family and stuff? Was that real?”

“Yeah. Just made them human sounding is all.” Ghost relaxed again, unable to help himself in Soap’s presence. “If you want to touch them, you can. Just be careful of the eyes.”

Soap took it. He ran his fingers through those soft feathers, watching beautiful brown eyes open up and look at him before closing again, wings leaning into the heavenly touch.

“I’ll make sure when we get to heaven, you’re in mine.” Ghost mumbled.

Soap felt a shiver. “Yeah?”

“Yes. God doesn’t watch there.”

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