[haakaan00502]

Compilation for Ghost x Soap prompts. Its an ever growing list so feel free to browse at your own leisure.

Ask me something, anything, even if it's not remotely related to what I post. I enjoy interacting and talking in general, I also take requests !!

Updates - This is a fairly new blog, my writing could be inconsistent too so if there are any announcements or updates, you could find them here.

[haakaan00502]

“You cannae do everything right Simon.”

The smoke alarm finally seized as Soap walks through the living room, opening windows to air out their flat, the lingering smell of burnt steak still present.He makes his way towards messed curtains and slightly cracked sliding doors.

There a chilly wind greets Soap, sending him to an almost shiver. The city lights litter the streets until the horizon, giving no stars a chance to lit.

To his left, Ghost sat his eyes averting Soap’s.

“Hell do it wrong,” Soap says,sitting beside Ghost on the floor of their balcony, wilting bouquet on Ghost’s hand.

“Give you another chance at doing it again, no?” He bashfully rubs his neck, glancing at Ghost whose eyes no longer stuck to the floor.

They sat there for awhile, each other’s warmth enough to make the cold December air bearable.

“I don’t want you stressing about these things,” he continues.

Ghost was a man of few words, and Soap was willing to do all the talking for the both of them.

“You can kiss me a hundred times, hug me a thousand,” Soap’s arms now on Ghost’s shoulder, a usual grin on his face,

“but best believe, if you tell me you love me once, I’d still believe ya.”

[haakaan00502]

S̛̰̪̫̬̦̖̃ͮͩͣ̌͗͒ͨ̏̋͜͠Ṱ̷̸͇͈͓̺̖͔͎̂̋ͫ́ͤͬ̈́̓̓͆͠Ơ̴̡̧͉͈̗̯̘̝̣̺̫̰͔̄ͬ̌̊̆̋ͣ̑̾ͨ̓̓̋̾̈͟͝P̶̷̨̢̺̙͕̫̳̺͕̠̙͕̲̩̄̋́ͣͫ͋ͪͯ̈́̽̈ͪ̃ͧͮ̌ͪ͋̀ͧ͐͢͞ͅ

liking my stuff, every time I get a notification I feel guilty for abandoning this account

[haakaan00502]

Dodgy Intel, a terrible mission, and crucial changes in the extraction point left Ghost and Soap in a worn state. After finding a relatively safe space, but still miles away from comfort, they faced a solitary bed.

Of course sharing a bed is no problem, they aren’t the first case to huddle up for survival — they aren’t the first case either for other reasons. However, the bed itself was literally quite too small for two people. It barely fits one of them.

“You rest.” Ghost motions towards the bed.

“Aye, and what, leave you be?” Soap says, in a slightly offended tone. Soap looked at Ghost up and down once, he didn’t need to look twice to know how fatigued Ghost is from the recent mission. Of course, he too is tired, but to him Ghost would always be more.

More experienced in the battlefield, decisive, quick, calm and centered. More focused, refined, always an informed decision. A rumor between elites, but a real terrifying force to face against, and having rightfully earned every title he has ever received.

More than a coworker, a great person off field, kind and quite dashing. The man who works almost 8 days a week, dedicated but content. More than a friend, anything but what two of them would define as intimate, but always more than a friend.

So now, to Soap, Ghost is more tired.

“You rest.” Soap says.

Without much resistance, Ghost took the offer. As soap sat by a chair in the room, looking at Ghost who barely even managed to prop himself properly on the bed sleep soundly.

[haakaan00502]

Hello, this one has been rotting on my drafts and since its December it felt fitting. It’s still just a draft but I’ll finish it, someday.

Ghost’s Ten Steps to Survival.

…

Cold is a luxury during summer.

Moist windows replace the sun beams that would wake Ghost up in the mornings. He lifts his heavy eyelids, checking the clock by his side table and seeing it three hours past six am.

The sounds of shovels digging through snow, scraping against the asphalt replaces the rhythmic marching of new cadets, Ghost savors the tea as warm as the cold wind breeze would allow it to.

The soft flipping of pages, the smooth yet hard texture of leather replaces the cold stern shuffles of paper reports. Ghost leisurely reads through pages and pages of fictional wonder, a book suggested by Soap.

Soft breathing, a squeaky mattress, and shifting sheets replaces the cold winter nights. This year, Ghost has the luxury of sweat free masking, thorough book reading, and Johnny.

People, however, do not have the luxury of time.

December festivities do not excuse criminal activities, if anything it became a seasonal hotspot. Holiday leave, lowering most patrols, surveillance team having less staff, and the rest of the world being busy this festive season, so it comes to no surprise when Task force 141 receives a mission report instead of gifts this Christmas Eve.

It’s supposed to be just a simple ambush, the team waits and intercepts a suspicious vehicle. Simple as it sounds, gone through several times and over, it’s supposed to be a flawless mission. Wait, attack, gather, and leave, right?

Right?

Though, not everyone has the luxury of simplicity.

Like a painting, each brushstroke having its own meaning, accompanied with hundreds of streaks, touches, marks and lines forming a thousand piece artwork.

They find themselves in a snowy landscape, branches protruding through layers of snow, and the contrast of blood red in white white snow.

Step 6: Secure Shelter

[haakaan00502]

How do you make friends here bruh

[haakaan00502]

Ghost moved on instinct.

Running as fast as he could, just to reach the nearest camp, extraction point, medic, any source of help. His breathing erratic, his mask soaked with sweat, it clung to his face.

His chest leaning forward, his hands tucked behind Soap’s thighs, he continued to sprint. The scot had a pleasing amount of muscle and weight, but nowhere near what Ghost would struggle to carry. However, Ghost never knew that he would one day be carrying the deadweight of his most favorite person.

At that moment, where each step bore the burden of two lives, where each second is as crucial as the one before it, Ghost begged. Begged to whatever God that seemed to exist just at that moment.

He reached the nearest camp, soldiers quickly moved to assist them. They pulled Soap to a stretcher, the remaining warmth he offered mercilessly peeled from Ghost. He watched as they all withdraw to a tent, words yelled becoming incoherent to Ghost

Ghost fell, barely even being able to lift his arms up. His legs spread across the floor, the wall being his only support. He heaved, sweat and tears becoming hard to discern. His heart seemed to follow with the defibrillator.

“Clear!”

His mind, a warzone, a chamber of self hatred as he jots down every single mistake he had made. How he was so powerless against what he wanted and the duty and responsibility he had to uphold.

“Clear!”

Himself, a mess, every muscle strained, open wounds still bleeding, his heart irregular. His consciousness in a constant brink of passing out, his senses numbed he couldn’t even notice the rest of the team standing by him

“Clear!”

He, only a person, as fatigue finally catched up, as adrenaline ran out. Ghost slowly fades to unwanted rest, he cursed his own anatomy, only clinging to the thinnest of threads.

“We got a heartbeat!” The last Ghost heard collapsing with a sigh of relief.

Masterlist

[haakaan00502]

That Cod hyperfixation died like Soap mactavish

[haakaan00502]

Ghost despised Soap’s over friendliness.

An arm around someone else’s shoulder, a smile not for his, and foreign hand on his lap. It turns his gears, grinds his teeth, and prickles around his skin, causing him to a scowl his mask can only witness.

He’s jealous, and he knows that.

It's futile to resist disagreements, that is common knowledge, and the two knew that. A healthy relationship is one with many challenges, a phrase they try to engrave in their minds. But how long can a fight stretch for it to still be considered good?

Ghost tries to be understanding while Soap tries to understand.

They try to preserve each other, their lives, their love, contradicting what life really is, to erode

Life is to live, and living is just a sweeter word for dying.

No matter how hard they love, they can never escape petty arguments, shallow jealousy, drunk words and stupid decisions.

How hard they improve, they’ll never be “perfect” for each other. Because there is no right person, only someone who can tolerate your flaws.

Love is a daily decision

Not one single proclamation

It’s staying when given so many reasons to leave, when offered better chances. It’s doing things you don’t want to. It’s fighting but choosing to resolve.

Its a constant repetition of ‘I love you’s’

Masterlist

[haakaan00502]

I LEAVE FOR A MONTH AND COME BACK TO SOAP DEAD ?!2!>2!1

[haakaan00502]

Exam week, goodbye world (i failed chemistry)

[haakaan00502]

“Green?”

“It looks pleasant to the eyes,” Ghost says nonchalantly.

“I thought you like black,” Soap says, his voice smiling on the com unit.

“I did.”

Though looking irrelevant, if something so small as a favorite color could change, what can’t?

The day came when Ghost felt restful in a table filled with paperwork, taking his time going through them, enjoying the feel of pen on paper. The barely working desk fan, half open blinds sending stripes of sunlight into the room,

Sometimes Ghost finds himself driving in the middle of nowhere, parking just by the gravel side and rolling his windows down. Letting the nearest radio station play whatever, staring out to the tall grass dancing along with the winds.

He learned to walk during rush hour traffic, two cups of coffee in hand and trotting on the right side of the sidewalk.

He lived chaotically, deprivingly. Now his only trouble is if a pack of black tea would be enough for two.

[haakaan00502]

Ghost loved the ever longing stares Soap would give him, getting used to a hand on his hip, and fingers full with someone else’s. Ghost loved it when Soap would touch him in every place he had, as if the body he had sculpted was only for Soap to experience. He loved it when their mouths would crash, the taste of blood forever ingrained in his mind, and to think Ghost would still have his favorites. He loved Soap’s voice, the rough accent he learned to adore.

Soap loved that Ghost loved it, because even when all of Ghost’s senses were working, he still chose him.

[homo-hexual-deactivated20250426]

okay making friends seems essentially impossible on the doomed bird website unless you already know people. i'm a baby ghostsoap convert and i need to find folks to scream at/with/near about large, dangerous fruits.

pleaseee like/reblog/comment so i can follow ur codblog and make a disgusting little nest for myself amongst ur posts. (respectfully)

[haakaan00502]

So he laid there,

in unchanged bedsheets, his eyes never moving. His breathing, just at the right pace to keep himself alive, the only living force he has was his own biology, involuntary movements like the tears in his eyes.

Plants wilted, their cupboards piled with dust, a room once occupied by two yet now feels so abandoned. A bookmark wedged in a book that would never be finished, and still a dripping faucet with a broken promise of fixing.

Ghost laid there, in a bed too big for one. His eyes only ever blinked when it was too dry to cry. He stared seemingly at nothing but only the dog tag at his palms, as his fingers curled even at rest, even his hand misses someone so dear.

[haakaan00502]

Ghost squints his eyes as the chopper flies off, sending dust into the air. He stands, his body present but his mind still gone, thinking about the recent operation. He walks mindlessly, doing a quick mind map of the intel they gathered just from their recon mission.

He looks forward and sees a Sergeant with a hair ruffled, sand everywhere as if the man has tussled on the sand. He brings himself around with pride and an air of confidence, talking with peers after a successful mission. They just started working together no longer than 3 months ago.

Their eyes meet and for a while, Ghost swears he wants to look away, Soap’s smile widens, his heels turning towards Ghost.

“Aye L.T., up top?” Soap says energetically, bringing his hand up for a five.

Ghost stares, not really knowing what to do. His arm moves but he instinctively stops it in place.

“No? Ah well,” Soap chuckles, giving Ghost a quick tap on the shoulder before walking towards camp.

“Need a shower, sand is a bitch and a half,” he walks, waving Ghost a quick goodbye.

Soap trots forward, the desert heat casting a mirage, distorting the horizon. Though only one warmth stands out under the sun’s beams. Ghost stares right on his shoulder, the brief contact left him stunned. Derailing Ghost’s train of thought, only focused on what a simple touch made him feel, a simple touch that for once didn’t cause him to recoil.

Soap left him with a thought.

‘Don’t leave him hanging next time.’

[haakaan00502]

As if orchestrated by the universe itself, a comedic theatrical play, toyed around by fate.

Ghost woke up in a panic, seeing Soap’s room empty of its owner. Later finding out that Soap got dispatched earlier as per the Sergeant’s request.

Sent to a mission thousands of miles away in foreign land just after a night they fought, it left Ghost irritated. Branding Soap as childish for not even bidding a farewell just because of a disagreement.

The first night, he slept out of spite, a frustrating feeling wedged between the crevices of his rib cage, the second night, he couldn’t. By the fourth, he increased his workload, wanting to do anything but stay idle to which he got lectured from by his captain.

After the first week he started sleeping in Soap’s room, and the following days that followed that. Relishing in what little traces his sergeant left, to the scent down to the unfinished book Soap left on his counter. He slept in the bed they shared alone, haunted by an afterimage of the imprint Soap’s body would leave in his bed. He always adored Soap’s ability to sleep so still at night, it helped Ghost memorize his features.

By the third week, Soap’s perfume expired, leaving only the smell of his own, traces of his hurt. Ghost stared blankly at the gray tiled floors as Soap’s other teammates relayed intel about their situation. The static of the radio placed him in a trance where the only words he could make out is ‘M.I.A.’

Price reassured Ghost not to make assumptions, never to make assumptions. Of course Ghost didn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that he grieved. He grieved the first night Soap left, he grieved the second night he hasn’t come back, and every night up to this moment.

He stayed out on the porch, looking at the stars city lit skies could never offer. Wondered if Soap still remembers how to locate the way up north, the way back to his arms. He grieved but for no man’s death, Soap isn’t dead, he wouldn’t die Ghost knew that.

Rather he grieved for the words he couldn’t say, for the words he wanted to and meant to say.

He entered back inside after the breeze became too cold to bear, missing a certain warmth more than usual. A single thought before he closed the door goodnight,

‘I’ll leave the lights on for you.’