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Paws and Effect Blurb
Read the full thing on: AO3
Paws and Effect - A Ghost/Reader/Soap Hyrbid AU fic.
Blurb - 4k words, Full on AO3 - 16k words (18+)
Summary: Soap was convinced that Ghost was hiding something. He was dead set on a secret missus tucked away in some flat in London. Nothing could have prepared him for the truth. A cozy little farmhouse, far removed from the chaos of their world, and a… fluffy cat? The biggest shock yet? The cat’s true identity.
Soap was certain that Ghost had a missus back home. His first clue? Ghost’s uniforms. They were always crisp and well-pressed. Don’t get him wrong, he was sure the big man knew how to use an iron, but there was something suspiciously meticulous about the way his clothes looked when he would come back from leave. Pressed to perfection, not a single wrinkle in sight.
Not only were they clean-pressed, but there was that scent that drove Soap’s nose crazy. It wasn’t just your standard laundry detergent, there was something warmer, floral, something… homey. Soap had sniffed every brand of detergent he could get his nose on, but nothing quite matched the lingering fragrance that was on Ghost’s clothes.
He tried asking once, tossing out the question casually. “So, you got a missus waiting for you back home, Ghost?”
The man barely spared him a glance, shaking his head. “Just a cat,” he said. His tone was even, but Soap swears he could see just the faintest twitch of a smile under his mask.
What really got under his skin was how the rest of the 141 played along. When he pressed Gaz about it, all he got was a shrug. “He’s not lying, mate. He’s got a cat.”
Price wasn’t any better. “Sounds about right,” he said, offering nothing more. Soap wasn’t buying it though, because every so often he’d get another clue.
Like when he overheard Ghost chatting with someone on base. He kept mentioning how she was doing, whether she was planning to visit soon and no matter how hard he tried, Soap couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t a cat. It was always just vague enough to be brushed off, yet it gnawed at Soap’s curiosity.
The final clue was the phone calls. Ghost wasn’t the type to waste time on mindless chatter, but every now and then, he’d slip away with his phone, voice low and private. One night, Soap happened to walk down the hallway towards the rec room at the right time. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop… kind of. It just so happened that he could hear Ghost’s voice from where he so happened to be standing.
“Yeah… I miss you too.”
Soap nearly fell out of his pants. He finally caught him, but he couldn’t let him know. He needed something more solid and he had to find out just who this girl was.
Going back to square one, he decided to take another swing at asking questions. “So Ghost, what’s your cat’s name?”
Ghost barely looked up from his cards. Soap had figured the team’s weekly poker game was the perfect time to catch him off guard. It seemed like a solid plan so far, but Ghost was just as unreadable as ever.
“Callie,” Ghost answered simply.
Soap narrowed his eyes. “What kind of name is that for a cat?”
Price leaned back in his chair, gaze darting between Soap and Ghost. “Why do you care so much, Johnny?” he asked his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.
“I don’t, I just-,” he huffed. “Look, I just know he’s full of shite, alright? There’s no way all he’s got at home is a bloody cat. And what’s worse is it that you lot seem to know it too.”
Across the table, Gaz snorted. “You sound jealous.”
Soap scowled. “I am not jealous. I just find it hard to believe.”
Before he could finish, Ghost’s phone buzzed.
The whole room went still.
Ghost barely reacted, checking the screen with his usual impassive air before typing out a quick response. Then, just as casually, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and placed his cards down with a satisfying ‘plap’.
“That was the cat,” he said flatly, revealing a full house. “Gotta make a call.”
Gaz nearly chokes on his drink, bursting out laughing. Price just sighed, leaning over to pat Soap on the shoulder. “Just give it up, mate.”
A month later, the task force was on the road, making their way back to base after a grueling week-long mission a few hours away. It was far too late for them to be out and exhaustion was starting to settle in. They had pushed to get back, desperate for their own beds, but the further they drove, the harder it was for everyone to stay awake.
“Why don’t we just crash at my place for the night,” Ghost offers, calm but firm. From behind the wheel, Price glances over, considering it for a second before nodding.
“Sounds like a plan,” he says, speeding on into the night.
Soap perks up immediately, practically bouncing forward to stick his head between the front seats. “Wait, we’re going to L.T.’s place?”
Ghost sighs, already regretting his offer. “On second thought…”
Soap playfully shoves his shoulder. “Aw, don’t be like that,” he grins.
“It’s been a while,” Price cuts in, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “It’ll be nice to visit again. Bet a lot’s changed since I was there last.”
Ghost doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he turns his gaze toward the dark scenery outside. “You have no idea…” he murmurs.
Soap blinks. “Wait, ye’ve been before, Captain?”
Price nods. “A few times.”
From the back seat, Gaz casually raises a hand. “As have I.”
Soap reels back, scandilized “What?” he whines. “How come everyone else has got an invitation ‘cept me L.T.?”
Ghost cocks his head to the side, sizing up the Scotsman with an air of amusement. “You’re too rowdy. You’ll scare the cat.”
Price and Ghost exchange a knowing glance, only adding fuel to the fire in Soap’s burning curiosity.
Soap huffs, flopping back into his seat with exaggerated indignation. “Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath.
He turns his attention to the window, watching as the darkness of the countryside stretches endlessly around them. The road was essentially empty with vast, open fields on either side. Every so often, a streetlamp would flicker by, offering the briefest glimpse of the world outside before swallowing it back into the shadows.
Yet, despite the tranquil scenery around them, Soap’s mind was far from resting. If everyone had been to Ghost’s place before, that meant that there was definitely something worth seeing, something he was hiding. He was determined to be right. Ghost had a bird.
Further into the drive, Soap catches glimpses of distant lights moving across the fields. They bobbed and weaved in a uniform rhythm, eerily synchronized for lights, flickering through the darkness.
“Farmer’s dogs are out,” Ghost comments, his voice low and unreadable. “Must be chasin’ something.”
Before Soap could get a proper look at whatever something was, the car veered onto a narrow side road, cutting off his view.
“You live near a farm?” he asks, watching as the scenery shifts.
Ghost grunts an affirmative, offering nothing more. Before he could press any further, Price turns onto a long, gravel driveway, the tires crunching softly against the stones.
Soap leans forward again as a modest yet charming farmhouse comes into view. A small porch light bathes the front of the house in a warm glow. It looked, cozy. Not how he would think one would describe Ghost’s home.
“That’s yer place?” he asks, heavy skepticism coating his tone.
Once again, Ghost merely grunts an affirmative. Then, with a slight edge to his voice, he adds, “Make sure you mind your manners.”
Soap smirks. “What, ye worried I’ll scare the cat?” Soap teases.
The joke earns him a hard glare from the masked man, the kind that makes it very clear that he is treading on thin ice. Price parks up close to the house before anyone can say anything further.
After stepping out, Soap takes a chance to look at his surroundings. The house was wrapped in lush greenery, flowers spilling over from well-kept garden beds and climbing trellises. It was once again a stark contrast to the man who owned it, comfy. And yet, it only fueled Soap’s suspicions.
They had barely grabbed their bags when a blood-curdling screech tore through the quiet night.
Soap froze, immediately on edge. “What the hell was that?”
A deep, guttural meowl followed and it felt long, drawn-out, and wrong. It echoes from somewhere near the tree line, making Soap’s pulse quicken.
Ghost barely reacts, simply glancing towards the forest. “Cat must’ve got out,” he mutters before heading toward the house.
Soap hesitates. That didn’t sound like any cat he’d ever heard.
Something about how Ghost said it so casually and dismissive sends a shiver down his spine. With a quick glance toward the others, he hurries after Ghost, not keen on lingering outside any longer than necessary.
Stepping inside, Soap was immediately hit with a wave of warmth and comfort. The living room was the exact opposite of what he had expected. Big, inviting couches piled high with plush pillows and blankets, soft lighting that cast a golden glow across the walls. Nearly every surface was adorned with plants, their vines spilling over shelves and trailing toward the floor in lazy curls.
And then there was the pet bed. It was huge, nestled in the corner like a throne. Soap stared at it, utterly surprised. “Just how big is your cat?”
Ghost’s answer dies on his tongue as another ungodly screech echoed from outside, this time followed by the unmistakable snap of jaws and a furious chorus of barking dogs.
Soap flinched, whipping toward the window in time to see three of the distant lights streaking past, tearing towards the forest with breakneck speed.
“Sounds like they caught whatever they were after,” Ghost says flatly, completely unfazed.
Soap turns to him, concern plastered on his face. Slowly, Soap takes a step away from the window.
“Right,” Ghost continues as if nothing had happened. “One of you will need to take the couch. Guest bed’s not big enough for three.”
Just as the words leave his mouth, a sudden noise comes from the kitchen. A faint but distinct shuffle, the sound of movement where there shouldn’t be any. Every head snaps toward the doorway. The team had faced enemy fire, brutal missions, and near-death situations. But after the week they’d had, their nerves were still wound tight, instincts sharp.
Suddenly, soft, quick footfalls break the silence, followed by a chorus of eager meows barreling into the living room. The team exhales, shoulders loosening as the true source of the “intruder” revealed itself.
“There she is,” Ghost says, his voice uncharacteristically warm as he kneels down.
A fluffy black cat, with a mosaic of white and orange splotches, practically launches into Ghost’s arms. Immediately a cacophony of loud, rumbling purrs fill the room as the cat chirps and rubs their head all over the masked man.
“There's my girl,” Ghost coos as he rubs a finger under the cat's chin.
Soap swears he can see the damn cat smile, purrs growing even louder as it presses into the touch, completely and utterly smitten with the masked man.
“She's looking nice and healthy,” Price comments, watching the affectionate display.
At the sound of his voice, the cat perks up, ears twitching as it twists out of Ghost’s hold and trots over to rub against Price and Gaz’s legs. Both men reach down to scratch at its soft fur, their hands easily finding familiar spots.
“I forgot how soft you were,” Gaz chuckles as it twirls between them, soaking up the attention. Then, as if suddenly noticing the extra presence in the room, the cat pauses. Its bright green eyes land on Soap, studying him with a quiet curiosity. It tilts its head slightly, ears twitching as it takes a hesitant step forward.
Soap freezes, glancing at Ghost who gives him a small nod.
“Let her sniff your hand,” Ghost instructs.
Frowning slightly, Soap peels off his glove and extends his hand, palm up. The cat looks to Ghost first, as if waiting for some kind of confirmation. Ghost turns his attention to the cat, cocking his head to Soap. “That’s Soap,” he tells it, low and steady.
At that, its ears perk, and its tail flicks before it closes the distance, giving his hand a few, careful sniffs. Then, as if making its final judgment, it presses its head into his palm, purring into the touch.
“Soap, this is Callie,” Ghost says simply. “Seems she likes you.”
Soap blinks down at her as she gazes up at him with wide, trusting green eyes. Any lingering suspicions, theories, or conspiracies vanish in an instant. Ghost was telling the truth. There was no secret missus waiting back at home.
Just this cat.
Callie.
“She’s a beaut,” Soap admits, scratching gently behind her ear.
Ghost gives a short nod. “Yeah.”
After another moment, Callie stretches lazily and trots back over to Ghost. She lets out a long, dramatic yawn before hopping effortlessly into his waiting arms, nesting into the crook of his elbow with a satisfied purr.
“Looks like she’s had a long night,” Ghost remarks, stroking her soft fur. “We’re gonna turn in, regroup in the morning.”
A murmur of sleepy agreements passes through the team. Ghost gave one last nod before retreating toward the downstairs bedroom with Callie still draped in his arms like a queen.
There was some lighthearted bickering over who got the couch, but Soap eventually ends up being the one collapsing onto the plush sofa. The second his head hits the pile of soft pillows and blankets, sleep takes him. For the first time in a long, long time, everything feels strangely peaceful.
The next morning, Soap stirred awake to the low murmur of voices drifting from the kitchen. The warmth of the blankets still clung to him, and for a moment, he considered rolling over and slipping back into his peaceful sleep. The tempting scent of fresh coffee ends up winning out and he stretches with a groggy yawn. He pushes himself upright, blinking blearily at the cozy living room around him before making his way toward the voices.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he was immediately met with two pairs of eyes watching him. Ghost and Price sit at a small dining table, mugs in hand, their conversation cutting off when they see him enter. There was something unreadable in their expressions, as if they were waiting for something.
Soap narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Then, movement out of the corner of his eye has him whipping his head towards the other side of the kitchen. When his head turns, his thoughts grind to a screeching halt.
A woman.
A stunning woman.
She turns toward him and for a moment, all he can do is stare, slack-jawed. She has warm, sun-kissed skin and striking green eyes that seem to glow under the soft kitchen light. Long, dark black hair cascades down her back, streaked with vibrant patches of orange and white. But that wasn’t what had him frozen.
It was the ears.
Perched atop her head were two pointed, fur-covered ears, flicking slightly as they registered his presence. Behind her, a long, bushy tail stood proudly, curling slightly at the tip. His eyes dared to dart lower.
She was dressed casually, wearing an old tank top that effortlessly hugged her figure paired with sweatpants with a cutout for her tail. But it was her feet that made his brain short-circuit. At first, he thought she was wearing oddly realistic slippers, but no, those were definitely not slippers.
They were actual cat paws.
Soap’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. His brain finally clicked everything into place and suddenly, it all made way too much sense. His expression lit up in triumph as he spun on his heel, jabbing a finger towards Ghost.
“A-ha!”
Ghost let out a long, exhausted sigh, bringing a hand up to rub his temples. “Please don’t yell.”
Soap ignored him, grinning like a madman. “You said you didn’t have a bird!”
“He’s not wrong,” Price mused, smirking behind his coffee mug. “She’s definitely not a bird.”
Callie grins wickedly. “I eat birds.”
Soap crossed his arms, doubling down. “You also said you didn’t have a missus.”
The woman let out an amused hum, raising a delicate hand. “Not a missus either,” she purred, lips curling into a sharp smirk as she turned to Ghost. “You were right, master. This one is funny.”
Soap’s brain screeches to a second halt.
“Master?!” he gawks, whipping around to face Ghost like he had just grown a second head.
Ghost exhales through his nose, reaching for his tea like this entire conversation was already giving him a headache.
Soap took another second to let things sit in, completely stunned. Of all the things he had expected to find at Ghost’s house, this was not on the list. “Right. Okay. Just, hold on a minute.” Soap pinches the bridge of his nose like that would somehow help process the absolute madness in front of him. “So, let me get this straight. Ye’ve been lying to me this whole time? Playin’ me for a fool while I went on and on about you havin’ a secret missus?”
Ghost gives him a look over his mug, eyes flat and unimpressed. “Never lied to you, Johnny.”
Soap’s jaw drops. “Oh, bollocks ye didn’t!” He waves a hand at the woman, who was now watching him with an amused gleam in her eyes. “What’s all this then?”
Ghost takes another slow sip of tea, dragging it out just to piss him off, Soap is sure of it. “Told you I had a cat.”
Soap gawks at him. He turns to Price, who is doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk. Turning to the woman, her tail flicks lazily behind her as she sips from her own cup, utterly unbothered by his existential crisis.
Finally, his eyes settle on Gaz, who walks into the kitchen. He takes one look at the situation before sighing.
“Finally found out, huh?” He turned to the woman with an easy nod. “Morning, Callie.”
“Morning, Kyle,” she responds happily.
Soap whirls on him. “You knew too?!”
Gaz snorts, grabbing a cup from the counter and starting to pour himself some coffee. “Mate, everyone knew.”
Soap threw his hands in the air. “What the hell is wrong with all of you? How is this normal? This is not normal.”
A soft chuckle draws his attention back to Callie. “Relax, Johnny,” she teases, stepping closer. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a shifter before.”
Soap takes a step back, bumping into the counter. “A what now?”
She arches a brow. “A shifter?” At his blank stare, she sighs, setting her cup down before gesturing to herself. “You know… a hybrid. A morph. I think in Japan I’m known as a nekomata.” She flicks her tail for emphasis. “Any of this ringing a bell?”
Soap blinks. Looks at Ghost. Back at her. Looks at her tail. Then back to Ghost.
“That's what all that racket was last night,” she says with a huff. “Sorry about that, by the way, I hope I didn’t scare you. Had to shift into my bigger form to deal with this nasty fox that's been causing issues and eating my chickens. Finally caught the fucker, so I called the neighbor's dogs for some assistance.”
Price chuckles at Soap's pale face. “Starting to make sense now, isn’t it?”
Soap once again jabs a finger at Ghost. “You… yer dating a bloody cat girl and just didn’t think to mention it?”
Ghost shrugged. “Not my fault you wouldn’t drop it.”
Callie grins, stepping even closer to Soap, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Would it make you feel better if I purred for you?”
Soap blanches. “Do not.”
Ghost sighs and stands up to put a steadying hand on her head. “Stop winding him up, love.”
She huffs playfully, ears and tail flicking in satisfaction. “Fine, fine.” Then she leans up on her toes and gives Ghost a quick peck on the cheek, right over the mask. “But you do make it too easy, Johnny.”
Soap slumps against the counter, dragging a hand over his face. He needed a drink or a nap. Probably both.
Price stands up, clapping him on the back with a chuckle. “You’ll get used to it.”
Soap peeks through his fingers at Ghost. The same Ghost who could make hardened men freeze with a single look was letting Callie nuzzle into him.
The contrast was striking. His harsh demeanor softened as he ran a gloved hand down Callie’s back. The sight pulled something deep into Soap’s chest, something warm and unfamiliar. His initial resistance crumbled instantly, and the fight left him like air from a punctured tire.
And yet, what he’s most surprised to realize, isn’t his surrender. Rather, it’s the quiet tug of longing that settled in its place.
Despite how comforting the kitchen now felt, reality was quick to settle back in. Price was the one to break up the moment, clearing his throat to grab the boy's attention.
“Sorry to break this up, but we're going to be needed back at base today to give a debrief. Why don't we finish our drinks and be wheels up in 10?”
Soap pushes off the counter, glancing at Gaz, who is now determined to finish his coffee before they return to work mode. “I'll go grab my stuff.”
Callie, still tucked against Ghost's side, gives a small pout. “So soon? You boys just got here.”
Soap scoffs. “Aye, and I'm sure you’d love to keep watchin’ me lose my mind, but we do have jobs to get back to, lass.”
She smirks. “Fair enough. But don’t be a stranger, Johnny.”
Something in the way she says his name is light, a little teasing, but oddly warm. It makes his ears burn, and he quickly turns on his heel before anyone notices.
“It was really good to see you boys,” Soap can hear her say with a purr as he leaves the kitchen. “Promise you'll stay longer next time? Give me a chance to properly host you all?”
He hears the captain respond, but Price’s voice is too low to make out. A few minutes later, the team has their gear piled up in the living room, ready to head out. Ghost disappears into the downstairs bedroom while the others get things sorted.
Soap takes another slow look around the cozy space, trying to shake the weird sense of homeyness it leaves in his chest. He hadn't expected any of this, and he sure as hell didn't expect to feel… jealous? No, that couldn't be right. Whatever it is, it settles heavily in his stomach as he watches Ghost reappear, Callie trailing behind him with an easy grace.
As they step outside, the crisp morning air cuts through the lingering warmth of the house, jolting Soap back into reality. Ghost pulls the door shut behind them, lingering there for a moment. Callie takes the opportunity to lean up on her feet, brushing a kiss against the side of his mask. He murmurs something to her, too low for Soap to hear, before stepping back and heading towards the car.
Callie waves lazily as they load into the vehicle. “Safe travels, boys.”
Soap leans his head against the window as Price pulls away, watching as Callie stands in the driveway, tail flicking. She stays there until they disappear down the road.
Only then does he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
Gaz nudges him with a knowing smirk. “What’s got you all quiet?”
Soap scowls. “Nothin’.”
Price chuckles from the front seat. “Give it time.”
Soap had no idea what he meant by that. But as he watches the road stretch ahead of them, the warmth of Ghost’s home fading into the distance, he has a sinking feeling he’s going to be thinking about this for a long time.
A/N: Thought I would post a little snippet of this story here on Tumblr since I've noticed that's where I'm finding a lot of other hybrid things. I think the full story might be too long to post here so I've got the full thing linked below! Thank you for reading! 💜
Completed story on: AO3 (18+)
Quick little 500 word New Year Soap blurb that was on my mind. Not the usual guy I write about, but I feel like he'd fit best in this scenario. Best wishes to everyone in the new year! ✨
~
This year had been a relentless storm of chaos. You cycled through two different apartments, three different jobs, and four heartbreaks with boyfriends who seemed to fit your life about as well as shoes two sizes too small. The year ended in a crescendo of disaster with a holiday shouting match between you and your parents. They lectured you about responsibility, stability, and your future, while you barely resisted the urge to scream back that life wasn’t a neat little checklist.
Needing an escape, you found yourself at a dimly lit, slightly sketchy bar for New Year's Eve. It wasn’t fancy, but at least it wasn’t crowded. The bartenders were surprisingly pleasant for people stuck working on a holiday, and their strong pours had done an admirable job numbing your frustration.
You perched on a creaky barstool, your gaze drifting to the overhead TV broadcasting the glitzy Times Square celebration. The screen showed bundled-up couples and families huddling together, their faces glowing with excitement as the clock ticked down. "60 seconds to midnight," one of the anchors chirped.
Your stomach churned, not just from the booze but from the creeping melancholy that always seemed to hit when you least wanted it. A year of missteps and failed connections had left you longing for something, anything, to cut through the static of loneliness. Your eyes wandered down the bar, scanning the room like a radar looking for a friendly signal.
That’s when you saw him. A broad-shouldered man with a charmingly confident grin and a slightly rebellious mohawk slid into the seat next to yours. His presence had an almost magnetic pull, and when he turned to meet your gaze, his smile was warm enough to melt a little of the ice inside you.
“Happy New Year,” you offered, your voice light but tinged with hope.
“Same to you,” he replied with a playful edge, the kind that promised an interesting story.
As the bar filled with the sound of the countdown, the bartender appeared with two glasses of champagne, sliding one in front of you and the stranger. “On the house,” he said with a wink.
“You got a New Year’s kiss lined up?” the man asked, his grin widening.
You felt your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and excitement bubbling up. “Not yet,” you admitted, glancing down as the countdown hit 10 seconds.
Something bold and reckless surged through you, the kind of courage that only a New Year’s Eve countdown and a few too many drinks could summon. You turned to him, caught his gaze, and leaned in. 5 seconds.
Your lips met his just as the bar erupted in cheers and shouts of “Happy New Year!” The kiss was electric, a jolt of warmth that cut through the haze of the year gone by.
When you pulled back, he looked momentarily stunned, but a snarky grin quickly spread across his face. He raised a hand toward you, palm up. Sitting in his open hand was a single Hershey’s Kiss.
Real I am the bandages
[MW3 SPOILERS]
![[MW3 SPOILERS]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9e66418f6381b52ff2564b074b1fbc33/b5270afcbbafccb3-1a/s500x750/e6c08ae41d3839f82309a58bccb63fd6c540f2dd.png)
This is the canon btw I don’t know what game you played but this was the ending I saw.
Ghost hates Roosters (GhostSoap)
Tw: Swearing, use of Ghost's and Soap's real names, fluff
“Johnny, you feed the hens yet?” Ghost asked as he carried the potato’s into the barn while Soap milked the cows that lived within the barn's red walls. “No, not yet. Is yer turn anyway.” Soap chuckled, blowing Ghost a kiss as he finished milking the last cow. “Ah don’t wanna deal with yer rooste’.” Soap smiled picking up the milk bucket as he patted the cow's backside with one hand. “Yer know that bird hates mah guts M’eudail.” Soap smiled, kissing Ghost's cheek as he walked past. “Hmph. Fine I’ll feed the hens today.” Ghost chuckled as he set down the sack of potatoes, picking up the basket full of the chicken feed. “I’m only doin this because I love you Johnny.” Ghost waved a finger at his husband. “Ah doubt yer would let yer beloved hens starve Simon.” Soap snickered. “Yer love those critters te death.”
“I suppose.” Ghost nodded, as he exited the barn, walking over to the chicken coop where the hens had already gathered. Ghost smiled as the chickens flocked around him, letting out annoyed chirps and squawks of offense at being fed later than usual. “Relax you feathery bastards.” Ghost laughed as the chickens angrily flocked him. Ghost hummed as he sprinkled the chicken feed all over the coop. The hens scattering to go eat their fill. The sounds of annoyed squawking died down as the creatures had their fill. The feathered creatures going back to roaming the coop or sitting in their nests once they had their fill. After making sure the hens were fed, Ghost moved on to the roosters. Quite frankly Ghost didn't quite like the roosters and the roosters didn't like him. However the roosters loved Soap, they were never aggressive with the smaller scottish man, however they would always try to tear out Ghost’s eye sockets. Deciding against entering the rooster house Ghost just threw the chicken feed through the mesh walls. “Feed you insufferable bastards.” However upon spotting Ghost on the other side of the wall a rooster attempted to attack him. “You violent creatures.” Ghost grumbled retreating back to the barn where he found his husband sorting through potatoes. “Alright Johnny, you are feeding the roosters. I hate them and they hate me.” “Simon yer overreactin’ them rooster’s are sweet.” Soap chuckled, “An don say yer hate em. Yer gonna hurt their feelin’s.” “Those bloody cocks don’t have feelings!” Ghost growled sitting down next to Soap, “One of em tried to claw my eyes out.” “Yer over exaggerate so much M'eudail.” Soap chuckled leaning against Ghost. “Der roosters are nice yer just don’t get along with ‘em.” “They don't get along with me.” Ghost scowled as he helped Soap clean the potatoes. “Whatever yer say Mo chridhe.” Soap laughed at the pout on Ghost’s face. “Ah still think yer just bein mean ter der poor roosters, maybe that's why they hate yer.” “Can’t believe you take their side, love.” Ghost huffed, “those things are bloody monsters.” “Maybe that’s why they don’t like yer.” Soap rolled his eyes. “Yer keep callin em monster’s and vermin.” “I’ve never called them vermin. But that’s a good way to describe them.” Ghost replied, glancing at his husband. “Ah m’ just sayin, maybe if yer didn hurt they feelin maybe they'd like yer better.” Soap chuckled. “Maybe they should just stop being pricks.” Ghost growled as he stabbed a potato. Soap laughed at his husband's antics. “Maybe yer should be the bigger person and just befriend the roosters?” Soap suggested with a grin, eagerly waiting for his husband's grumbly response. “I don’t want to be the bigger person.” Ghost hunched over angrily stabbing the potatoes. “…right. An remin me who’s the human in this situation?” Soap asked teasingly. “…me.” “An who has to be the bigger person?” Soap asked again. “…me.” Ghost groaned in annoyance.
Domestic Farm Fluff GhostSoap
TW: Use of Ghost and Soap’s real names, tooth rotting fluff, and my coping
-----------------------------
“L.T you awake?” His husband’s words filled his ears, the heavy Scottish accent lingering in the air.
“M’ not your lieutenant anymore Johnny.” Ghost mumbled sitting up in the bed, the weighted blanket felt nice as Ghost wrapped himself tighter in it.
“Ah, yer righ’ but yer still mine.” Soap grinned, pressing a kiss to Ghost’s jaw. “Now come on we gots to work on our farm M'eudail.”
“Five more minutes luv.” Ghost’s heavy English accent thickened as he tried to keep his eyes open. However his husband had other ideas. “Oi-” Ghost grumbled as Soap flopped on top of him, the shorter man pressing kisses all over his face to wake him up. “Johnny stop.” Ghost growled as he tried to sleep.
“No can do Mo chridhe.” Soap chuckled. “Come on! We gots to go feed the hen’s and milk dem cows.”
“...Can you do that?” Ghost asked opening one eye to look at Soap.
“Simon, yer so lazy.” Soap grumbled trying to push his husband off the bed. “Come on yer lazy Gowk. Is yer turn to deal with roosters.” Soap grinned as he successfully managed to push Ghost off the bed, his husband landing on the wooden floor with a soft thud.
“Oh come on Johnny. Didn’ have to push me off the bed. Coulda just woke me up normally.” Ghost grumbled as he got up, his joints popping as he stretched. “You eaten already?”
“Firs' already tried, yer didnt wan to wake up. Second yer trustin me to cook?” Soap grinned teasingly as he passed Ghost, one of his embroidered cloth face masks that just covered the bottom half of his face.
“...Never.” Ghost hummed as he looped the straps of his mask around his ears. “C’mon Johnny, I’ll go make breakfast.” Ghost decended the wooden stairacse down to the lower level of their farmhouse, the dark wooden walls comforting and warm, he loved this home, and not just because his husband also lived in it.
“Whatcha gonna make Simon?” Soap smiled as he followed after his husband watching as the larger man started to grab different ingredients.
“Pancakes Johnny.” Ghost hummed as he poured the pancake mix onto a pan. “Sleep well?”
“Like a wee baby.” Soap chuckled as he rested his head in his hands, watching his husband cook. “Yer got a nice arse Simon.” Soap teased.
“Shut up Johnny.” Ghost looked over at Soap, “Or I’ll leave you without pancakes.”
“Wait! M’ sorry Simon.” Soap made puppy eyes at him, pleadingly clinging to him. “Jus’ dont take away m’ pancakes.”
“You know I can’t say no to you luv.” Ghost chuckled, lifting his mask to kiss Soap’s forehead.
“Ah know. An am gonna exploi’ it till death.” Soap grinned wrapping his arms around Ghost’s waist and clinging to the taller man as he watched Ghost flip pancakes. “Yer know a love yer right M'eudail?” Soap whispered as he pressed kisses to Ghost’s neck.
“I know Johnny. I know.” Ghost chuckled, wrapping an arm around Soap.
“Good. I think yer should remember that Simon.” Soap smiled softly as he rested his head on Ghost's shoulder. The two happily staying in their kitchen as Ghost finished up the pancakes.
Translations~ M'eudail- dear/darling Mo chridhe- my heart Gowk- Fool
“of course, no?”
“no—”
“yes.”
something something the alone mission except when soap gets to the church, ghost isn’t there to meet him.
something something ghost tells him to get in the truck and leave before graves shows up with more shadows.
“but what about you, LT? tell me where you are, I'll come find you.”
something something he orders soap to leave, but johnny climbs the gate with his busted shoulder, follows a trail of dead bodies up the tower and finds ghost bleeding out, and there’s no way he’s going to make it and all ghost can say is “i gave you a fucking order”
and he tells soap to leave again, but he can’t because here simon is still worrying about johnny, while he’s dying with no hope of an extraction, told him stupid little jokes and led him to safety neither of them would be able to reach on their own, but as long as johnny got out—as long as he’s safe—
because he can handle dying. hell—he can handle soap dying. but not if it's because of him.
something something i don’t know how it ends all i know is i’m crying
blue version bc idk which one i like better
the 141 & quotes that match them pt2
the 141 and quotes that match them:
I fall in love with any fictional or celebrity man as soon as I see an edit of them I fear
it is cod hyper fixation hour please give me recs I'm begging and crying and begging and yelling
i wonder about this quite a lot but think about how ghost and soap came to be friends, like even after being in the team for 3-4 months, simon tested the waters when soap told him something like 'ye man i'm scottish' but all his lieutenant replied with was 'sorry for that man ,hoping you get well soon'
"dinnae act innocent bonnie, we all know where your wee lil' mouth was 10 minutes ago"
you hear johnny's smug voice through that damn walkie talkie along with a muffled chuckle from gaz.
fuck! you forgot to turn off your damn mic before sucking what might be the biggest cock you've ever seen, and also enjoying the hottest blowjob that you've given. no amount of excuses is gonna save you now, everyone knows that you like being face fucked by your superior commanding officer, lieutenant ghost.
but who were you to deny that anyways, you did love sucking his hung cock so much, suckling the tip, peppering the shaft with small kisses, letting the precum drool down your cheek before you actually start taking him fully while he has his hand behind your head guiding his sweetheart through the blowie. Although he's a pinnacle of patience, determination and resilience, it all breaks when he has your soft plump lips wrapped at the base of his cock, the thrusts get sloppy, uneven as he chases his release. And mutters a "swallow it, yea pum'kin jus' like that, All of it" as you drink on his cum, its bitter sweet as per the taste, but its a bit easier now since you're used to it.
it had been noticed by everyone around the base how much the atmosphere charged when ever you and him made even the slightest of contacts, the veterans seemed to ignore it, having had their fair share of flings in their prime, the rookies enjoyed it, but it was soap who enjoyed it the most.
johnny doesn't knows when the lieutenant will share his bird with him. But he's certain that he will one day and its not that far away.
club trip with bourbon
sunshine chilling
just one kiss L.T.
just one kiss L.T.
Mittens
@soapsdish
This is such a niche thought I got while watching a tiktok
Imagine you’re like a runner or someone you is really active and you are running a marathon of some sorts. It’s such a big milestone for you to complete and the 141 is there along the supporting you. You’ll run pass them with huge signs, screaming good job at you and all that lovely stuff. Maybe even a few of them jogging along side you for a minute cheering you on.
That’s it 🫠