Nik's smoking with Johnny and Simon, and they're just chatting shit in their downtime.
"Ye ever miss it?"
Nik tilts his head towards Johnny, eyebrow lifting in question.
"Bein' in the airmy."
Nik shrugs. "Not really. It was not the best fit."
Simon huffs around his fag, silver smoke puffing through the gap between lips. Nik, the arms dealing aircraft nerd, had to be pulling their leg. "Ow'd'ya figure that?"
Nik shrugs. "I was never very good at following orders," he considers his cigar between finger and thumb before landing the killing blow, "I am not submissive enough."
Johnny cackles and Simon covers his choke of surprise with a throat-clearing cough. "Fahkin' 'ell..."
2 years. 2 years of wearing the Lieutenant down, bringing him tea every morning and sparring every evening and finally, finally getting past the rows of solid brick walls he’d built up around himself, just for this moment.
Soap finally has Ghost under him, shirtless. His lips are kiss-swollen, his breath comes hot and heavy, and all Soap can do is stare gormlessly.
Because Ghost has stretch marks.
Silvery lines snaking along the edge of his huge pecs, where the muscle had grown too fast for his skin to keep up.
Moreso than just redirecting all of Soap’s blood flow straight down to his dick, they’re proof. Proof of every growth spurt that put him half a foot above his mates. Proof of years spent hauling kit, weapons, weights, people. Proof of survival. His body couldn’t keep up with what was being demanded of it, and it left a record right here under Soap’s hands.
“…You gonna stare all night, Sergeant? Or was there a plan?” Ghost says dryly, though with his mask pushed above his nose like that Soap can see him smirking. Cocky bastard.
“Can I touch ‘em?”
Ghost’s brow raises.
“The stretch marks.”
“I knew which bit you were on about.” He shrugs one broad shoulder, looking decently bemused. “Go on, then.”
Soap traces one of the faint lines with his thumb, feeling the slight ridge of raised skin give under his fingers. He follows it absentmindedly until it disappears into the hollow of Ghost’s underarm. There’s more than he realised on first glance - thin pale stripes along his lats, and several more curving over the swell of his biceps.
“Johnny,” Ghost snaps eventually, but there’s absolutely no heat in it, never is. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re practically droolin’. Get a move on.”
Soap leans forward, presses his lips to the base of Ghost’s neck, and gets a move on.
I love your work!!! Binge reading it all the time. I’ve been doom scrolling card tricks on TikTok and I’m going to assume every ghost simp has a thing for hands (atleast a little bit) and idk if you take requests but I just thought if you’re at the bar with ghost and 141 and he starts doing these crazy card tricks and it’s HOT!
Your first indication that you’d had one too many drinks probably should have been when Kyle had to nudge you when your favourite song started playing over the speakers in the bar and you hadn’t noticed
Or perhaps it should have been when Price had to say your name nearly half a dozen times to get your attention, in spite of being sat directly next to you
Maybe it even should have been when Johnny threw his straw wrapper in your face to get you to realize that you kept absentmindedly trying to drink from your long ago empty glass
It was all background noise at the end of the day though, wasn’t it?
At least, it became so, when one of the sergeants, you can’t remember who it was anymore, pulled out a deck of cards and slid them across the booth table over to Ghost, saying something about how they’d forgotten to give it back to him after the last op
Now, you’d watched the Lieutenant load and reload magazines as easily as someone might tie their shoelaces, had seen him disassemble and reassemble weapons like they were a child’s 10 piece jigsaw puzzle, had noticed him fiddling with his knives on more than a few occasions
You’d seen his hands in action before
But something about the way his large, rough, calloused hands split the deck without even glancing down at the cards, shuffled them as smoothly as any trained card dealer might one day hope to as well, seemingly had a warmth pooling low in your stomach, a tickle at the back of your neck telling you that you might just have a thing for hands
Or at the very least, his hands
It’s not long before the men have started passing cards around the table, intent on playing some game or another as they sip their drinks and wind down from the last job, laughing and messing about
You on the other hand, can hardly focus on the numbers and shapes on the cards in front of you, too occupied with way Ghost continues to shuffle his hand, the cards appearing comically small in his grasp
You wonder what his hands would look like holding-
“Y’alrigh’ there?” His gravelly voice finally snaps you out of your daydream, your eyes dancing across the four other pairs looking back at you, each with their own levels of amusement in them
“Yeah, uh sorry, what?”
“Said it’s your turn.” Ghost replies with a short chuckle, nodding towards the cards still in your grip. “Unless… you don’t feel like playin’.”
“No, no. I- I wanna play.” you cut yourself off, unsure where you were going with this train of thought anyways, the drinks and something else having you far too out of it to focus. “Uh- what game were we playing?”
“S’alright bonnie. Ye can watch me hand this lot their arses on a silver platter and learn somethin’ for next round, aye?” Johnny encourages just as Ghost reaches across and effortlessly plucks the cards right out of your hands, adding them back into the pile
Truth be told, you wouldn’t have been able to tell them whether you were playing poker or go fish at the moment, and though you likely could have faked your way through a turn or two, you’re much more content to sit here and shamelessly ogle at the Lieutenant’s hands sans interruption now
The warmth in your cheeks and the sudden moth infestation in your stomach have you long past the point of caring about the inevitable teasing you’re likely to get from the men tomorrow, hoping they’ll at least wait until your hangover has passed before they start poking fun at you
Ghost apparently seems to have other plans, when he’s walking you back to your dorm later that night, and those same hands are slipping under your shirt to land on the small of your back with the heat of a small fire, the fabric of his mask brushing against your ear when he says lowly, “I thought you said I was the one wit’ the starin’ problem, love.”
To say that you’re surprised to find out the first time you travel together, that Simon supposedly has a fear of flying you never knew of, would be an understatement
It’s just a quick flight out of London, less than an hour in the air to go spend the long weekend together somewhere different for a change
And yet your mountain of a man hasn’t said a peep since the moment you took your seats, eyes staring straight ahead with his hands gripping the armrests for dear life
You’re just a tad bit bewildered on how a lieutenant in the SAS has been harbouring an aversion to flying without you ever hearing of it
Unbeknownst to you, Simon hasn’t got a single problem with flying, he’s just pissed as all hell that you put your own bag in the overhead storage instead of letting him do it when he offered
I know this is a deeply American thing to say but I am begging everyone to stay the fuck away from military recruiters. Especially high school kids. You are going to be seeing an unholy amount of them in schools or around schools or literally anywhere kids are known to congregate. THIS INCLUDES ALL FORMS OF ROTC. Stay the fuck away from military recruiters. As someone who’s familiar with entirely too many branches through entirely too many friends and family, including my partner, recruiters are authorized to say literally any fucking thing they think will make you sign on that line. They cannot and will not deliver on those promises. They need bodies for the war they’re pretending is only now starting up again. That’s all you are. A body. Stay the FUCK away from the military.
Where they’re stumbling around eachother trying to dance along the lines of love but instead are stepping on each other’s foot and kicking their ankles by total accident. Where they’re studying the choreography day and night but to totally different dances.
Ghost leaving chocolates in soaps gear, hoping soap blushes. Hopefully Soap enjoys the sweet treat while wondering who was the kind, devilishly handsome, smart, witty, hilarious secret admirer to gift him this. But by the time soap finds the bar he’s trying to reload his gun only to cram a chocolate bar into the ammo barrel. He ended up resorting to yell “grenade” and throwing the chocolate bar towards the gunfire, hoping the enemy fall for it and ducks while he books it out of there and to exfil.
Soap putting flowers in ghosts room, Orange Lillies. Soap googled their meaning before gifting them because he’s not a total moron. Orange Lillie’s: symbolizing confidence, boldness, and courage. Traits he’s very fond of from his lieutenant…Unfortunately ghost ALSO googled their meaning but they got sent to completely different sites. Hate and distain…gee thanks. Ghost sighs, thinking his secret admirer is stupid and didn’t google the meaning, or that his secret admirer could be a secret hater…
Soap: Ghost! Ye won’t believe it but some dumbass put a chocolate bar where my bloody ammo was! Gee thanks now I can eat some sweets while I bleed out from the bullet holes.
Ghost: Oh yeah daft bastard must’ve had good intentions though…oh but ye won’t believe it. Not sure if I have an enemy or someone who liked the mask too much. Got send Orange Lillies, googled it and they mean hate, no decent lads out there anymore. All of em are dozy.
Soap: …I mean if they all suck maybe we could give it a go…i know we can tolerate each other enough so why not try…
Ghost: didn’t know you could come up with half decent ideas mactavish.
@nothingbutnowhere I love the way your brain thinks! I was really struggling about what species to make Price… so I’m totally doing that now (if I get to drawing more of the SW x COD)
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