Was This Not The Series

I loved this fic the second I read it! Can’t wait to read the last chapter.

Idiot's Guide to Dating by Simon Riley

this is part five! read on ao3, or read on tumblr - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4. no archive warnings apply! this is pure, unadulterated fluff :]

A groan escaped Ghost as his alarm went off. He rolled onto his side, clumsy fingers reaching out until they brushed against the clock and turned it off. He’d not quite been brave enough to leave his room, yesterday, though it was late enough that he could pretend he was resting.

That was a lie.

His sleep had been quite disturbed, in fact, restless, consistently drifting into panicked thoughts about Johnny, and how the hell you were supposed to confess to somebody that you loved them.

Of course, he told himself, that the other must know, right? What else would his words from yesterday mean?

‘Like’ could mean platonic, though. Soap could think that this was just a friendly thing... Ghost wasn’t a very friendly guy. He could have just assumed-

Another groan escaped him, and he buried his head into his pillow. Fuck Soap. How dare he make the Ghost fluster like this? Simon had killed plenty of people, and he had seen a great many things, but here he was, panicking over his crush like a child. It was an entirely foreign feeling to him, and he couldn’t figure it out.

Deciding to no longer dwell on these thoughts, he pushed himself up and got changed. He’d go on a run, and that would clear his mind, and all would be fine.

It was easy to fall into a routine, and it soothed his fraying nerves. His brain could switch off for a moment, as he worked just on instinct. Getting dressed, then brushing his teeth, washing his face, putting his mask on, putting his shoes on, leaving the base – the list continued. It was all usual, to him, and it helped things get easier.

Another thing he was entirely grateful for was the fact that the run went easy. It wasn’t an overly cold morning, though it wasn’t too warm, and it wasn’t too muddy – everything was perfect. That made his skin crawl. It was... too nice. Given his plans to officially romance Soap, it felt wrong. Ghost couldn’t be lured into a false sense of security.

Okay, he had to admit, it sounded odd to find things being too nice wrong, but he could admit that he was a paranoid bastard, sometimes.

Once the run was over, he returned to his room to change clothes and freshen up, not wanting that sticky, post-run feeling to stick with him throughout the day. It was routine – fuck, he liked routine.

With that done, donning a hoodie, jeans, and, of course, his mask, he made his way to the kitchen in order to grab some breakfast. The first disruption in his plan was here, though that was mostly because he hadn’t really considered the rest of the day. Johnny was there, fussing with the microwave as Gaz and Price sat by and watched, offering the occasional tip, but not helping him.

That microwave had never been the same after Soap arrived on base. He was pretty certain it was now a short horror story Price told the rookies. He couldn’t blame him.

Apparently, his footsteps weren’t as quiet as they usually were, as, when he stepped in, Price glanced over his shoulder and offered a hum, “Morning, Simon,”

“Lt!” Before Ghost even got the opportunity to respond to their Captain, the Sergeant was turning around excitedly to face him. There was a grin on his lips that had his heart fluttering, and he hated it because it was so silly and childish, but... honestly, at the same time, he really liked the feeling.

In the back of his mind, he quietly blamed Soap for making him feel like that. It was unfair, honestly.

“Johnny-” Ghost began, not quite certain what he was going to say, but he was cut off before he could figure that out, regardless.

“Me and the Sergeant have... some paperwork to do, regarding our last mission,” Price spoke up, suddenly, giving Gaz a look.

“We do?”

Price nudged Gaz’s shoulder, and understanding dawned across his features.

“Oh! Yeah, we do. See you guys later,” Gaz flashed a grin at them, pushing himself to a stand and following Price out. When the duo walked past Ghost, their Captain nudged his side, and Ghost watched them leave, bewildered.

“Meddlin’ bastards,” Grumbled Soap, which only added to Ghost’s bewilderment, truly. He turned to look at the Scot, whose grin turned a little sheepish, turning back to the microwave to try and figure it out. “Eh... Good morning, Lt?”

“Decent,” Ghost responded, finding himself still feeling a little... outcast, in this situation. There was nobody else in the room, and nobody would be interrupting them, it seemed, so this was the best opportunity he had, to confess to him, but he still found himself lost.

Despite his list, he was fucking floundering, and he scoffed at himself. He was Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, god dammit, he physically dragged himself out of his grave, and here he was, flustering himself at the thought of asking Johnny out.

He just... had to do it. He could do it.

Ghost stepped closer, rounding the counter near him, and just as he went to speak, he registered something that threw him off-kilter, all over again.

“Are you... heating up pizza for breakfast?”

“Oh- uh... aye, ran out of cereal, and I’ve never really... cooked anything for breakfast, so...”

Ghost slow-blinked at him because this wasn’t the first time his Sergeant had thrown him off-guard like this, but it was definitely towards the top of the list.

“Sit down,”

“Uh- Why, Lt?”

“Sit down,”

“Copy that, sir,” Johnny grinned at him. It should be an infuriating expression. It, in fact, made his stomach erupt in butterflies again. Ugh.

Ghost shuffled to grab what he needed; two eggs, a bowl, a pan, a whisk, and some bread. Once done, he began cracking the eggs, so he could stir them.

Recognition crossed Soap’s features, and a shocked little gasp escaped him. “Are you... making me breakfast?”

“You’re not eating pizza this early,”

“Aww, Simon...” Johnny cooed, and yet again, it should piss him off, but it didn’t, in fact, it made his cheeks flush under the mask, and he let out a huff.

“Shut it, Sergeant,” Being told to shut up by Ghost should have him complying, if for nothing else, then out of a healthy respect for remaining alive. Soap’s actual response was a laugh, which was perhaps more of a cackle than anything else.

He hated how nice that laugh was.

As Ghost worked, the other did lapse into silence for a few minutes, which surprised him. A quiet Johnny was one he was not used to – even in the ride to Alejandro’s safehouse, after the shitshow that was Graves’ betrayal, the man managed to talk the whole way there. Incessantly.

The memory made him smile.

Ugh.

“Y’know, I could get used to this,” Johnny spoke up, suddenly.

“What?”

“I mean... this. You cooking for me. Looking all domestic in your hoodie and shit,” he laughed.

“Domestic?”

“Yeah... I mean... You look casual. Apart from the mask, but I’m coming around to it. Still makes you look strange, but... I’m coming around to it,”

“You like it?”

“I... guess I do, yeah,”

“You like me?” His words echoed the ones from yesterday, from their mission.

“I... do?”

Ghost turned around, pleased to notice that there was a light flush coating the Sergeant’s cheeks, accompanied by a distinctly confused expression. It was nice to be the one causing that expression, for once. He walked up to the counter, leaving it as a barrier between them, and leaned against it, his elbows used to prop it. He leaned into Johnny’s space, watching as the other man swallowed thickly, wide-eyed but smiling nonetheless, which reassured him that he was reading into this right.

“I like you too,”

“You... do?”

He was so proud of himself to have such a talkative man so tongue-tied. A smile quirked his lips and, judging by the fact that Soap’s eyes flitted down, that was clear, even with the mask on. Good.

“I do. Been gone on you for a while, Johnny. Didn’t know if I should tell you, but...”

“You’re not... takin’ the piss, aye?”

An amused chuckle escaped Ghost, pretty certain his newfound confidence only came from that thrilled glint in Johnny’s eye, “No, I’m not ‘takin’ the piss’,”

“C’mere,” Soap stood up, gesturing to his side. Feeling rather like he couldn’t deny him right now, Ghost obliged, rounding the counter and standing in front of him.

Carefully, almost like one would to a feral animal, Johnny reached his hands up, taking Ghost’s face in his hands. “Can I... kiss you?” His voice was so soft, so tender, in a way he was so unused to from the other, he was helpless to simply nod his agreement.

Rather than lift the mask, which he’d expected the other to do, he instead pushed onto his tiptoes and kissed him through the mask. It was nothing more than a peck, hesitant and careful, but the other relaxed when Ghost didn’t pull away.

The fact that Soap saw the mask as simply another facet of Ghost was... so sweet, honestly. It was such a kind gesture, but he didn’t need that, now. No, he needed to know what Johnny’s lips felt like against his, not through the mask.

His head tilted back out of his grip for just a moment as he reached up and lifted his mask up, noting how Johnny’s pupils blew wider as he did. This time, Ghost was the one to lean down, pressing his lips against his. Everything sort of melded into place, at that moment. His hands wrapped around Soap, finding his waist, gently squeezing at the firm skin he found there, and – well, shit, everything was perfect.

As much as he would like to say that he spent the next few minutes kissing Soap as he pleased, it instead was interrupted by the smell of burning.

The eggs.

A frustrated groan escaped him, suddenly parting from Soap only to round the counter once more and switch the stove off. There was probably no saving them – maybe breakfast would have to be fucking leftover pizza.

He turned around once more, watching as Johnny laughed at him, and only found it within him to roll his eyes, teasingly. He had a nice laugh, the asshole.

“Ah... Maybe I’m not the only one who shouldn’t be trusted to cook, eh, Simon?”

“You’re a distraction,” Simon accused, fondly, the smile clear in his words.

“A pretty handsome distraction,” he waggled his eyebrows in a way that should have been stupid looking, but he truly found it charming. Definitely an asshole, how dare he be so endearing?

“Watch yourself, Johnny,”

“Don’t think I need to, Simon, not when you’ve been watching me?”

“Like a hawk. Don’t you have work to do?” Really, Simon just... needed a few minutes to process everything that just happened.

Maybe he needed to scream into his pillow just a little. Things never went to plan, he needed to celebrate, you know?

“Got some training today. I’m... free this evening, though,” once more, the man segued from teasing to tentative and tender in moments. It was so fucking sweet.

“Meet me by my room, at 5 pm,”

“You gonna take me out?” The words were teasing. Ghost needed to rectify that.

“I am.”

“Oh... Aye- Uh.. Right! Okay. I’ll see you then, Simon,”

“See you then, Johnny,”

The shorter man scarpered around the counter once more, pressing one final kiss to his lips for good measure, before backing off. Before he left, he grabbed the cold pizza from the microwave, and brought it with him, to wherever he was going.

Cold pizza for breakfast... Jesus, Simon certainly knew how to pick them. As he turned around and began to clear up the mess he’d accidentally made, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad about that, though. Nah, he was pretty certain he couldn’t have fallen for the average person, so he’d just have to deal with those quirks. Well – maybe he’d just try to quell them. How a man could live off of cold pizza in his late twenties was... insanity, really.

Once the kitchen was cleared, Ghost pulled his mask down, and began to settle into his daily routine for work. A smug, prideful feeling stuck with him the whole time, making him want to preen, stick his chest out and fucking boast to anybody that came near him – he fucking wooed John MacTavish, and he did it well, dammit. Maybe he was better at romancing people than he’d thought, hey?

Now to plan their date. On short notice. What... sort of date would Johnny enjoy?

Maybe the plan had been a little short-sighted. That was fine. It worked out perfectly anyway.

Crying rn. I need this to be better. It has to be better

John “thinks he’s unlovable and people merely tolerate him” Soap Mactavish; is unconvinced when Gaz tells him that he is Ghost’s favorite on their team. Vehemently denies it. He’d love for it to be true, but knows in his heart that it isn’t.

Gotta love that sweet, sweet low self-esteem that makes that sweet angst

___

A Bit Too Much

Angst below the cut

___

Growing up Soap was described as “a bit too much”. By his parents, siblings, the kids at school— He just accepted that’s what he was. “A bit too much”. As he grew, he tried different things to deal with this. Not engaging with people was his first approach. Then when people started saying “too quiet” he changed things up.

“A bit too much”, “Too quiet”, “Tries too hard”, “Thinks he’s too good for us”, “Bipolar freak”—

So he gave up. He put up a front full of confidence. This became the persona everyone knew. This was Soap, that’s how he was. Brave, facing the world with a grin and a smug comment. But even though Soap lived the persona so long, he was constantly reminded that, well, he was too much. Too friendly, too arrogant. He talked back, stuck his neck out. And when he got those looks from everyone… Well, it took everything he had to not let his mask crack.

When he joined 141 and met Ghost, he smiled and continued the act. The confidence, the know-it-all attitude. That glare from Ghost almost made him break. But he kept going. He proved himself to be a valuable member of 141. He earned his mark. When Ghost started to tone down the aggression, Soap simply told himself the man was trying to be nice considering they were going to be working together for the unforeseeable future. He had to be nice so they could work together smoothly.

The jokes were odd but considering how dark some were Soap took them as Ghost trying to remind him of Ghost’s reputation. Then the shoulder pats after a job well done— Those were always done in front of others. Ghost couldn’t show people his distaste for Soap.

One evening they were on a mission in a temperate forest. It’s been quite a bit since then so Soap couldn’t really remember why they were there. But they had to camp out there overnight. A fire burning between them, laying on their backs, looking through the trees staring at the stars. The others were passed out, and it was between either Soap or Ghost to keep watch.

“Get some rest, sergeant.”

“Me? You tell me that with those bags under your eyes?”

The chuckle that came from Ghost wasn’t like the dry, forced laughter that he had heard before. It was warm, genuine. Soap couldn’t remember the last time he heard someone laugh like that in response to something he said/done.

He’s tired, probably thinks a knock knock joke would be hilarious.

Soap insisted he would take watch and Ghost looked at him with unreadable eyes before agreeing. Probably didn’t want to bother arguing with him considering how stubborn and insufferable Soap could be. Soap knows how he is, he remembers his mother telling him that several times before he finally joined the military.

Since then, Soap would think about how Ghost looked that night. Though he was in gear, same skull mask and balaclava, faded black grease around the eyes. He looked so- so—

Soap had a bad habit of becoming obsessive when he finds a person that he likes. Someone who he genuinely loves to be around. Past girlfriends and boyfriends and friends in general called him “clingy” and some said he would stalk them. He never tried to make them uncomfortable, but when he finds that person who brightened his day just by him seeing them… He tried to be around them as much as possible. But he would be constantly reminded of how weirded out people were by that.

But Ghost didn’t give him the same signs that he was crossing the line like those in the past. Wasn’t told to back away, stop talking for moment, just leave him alone for fuck’s sake. Soap tried to give Ghost his space, watched what he said, and leave him alone as often as possible. He wasn’t sure why this man was so patient with him. His own parents never gave him this kind of tolerance. Soap wondered if Ghost, despite his reputation, was a lot nicer then what people made him out to be.

So after deeming that Ghost was too nice to tell him to fuck off, Soap decided to avoid him. The first couple of days, if Soap saw Ghost in the hall or in the room he entered, he had to remind himself to leave him alone. The man needed a break. After a week and a half he got used to the lack of companionship (though he knows Ghost was loving the change). After three weeks Soap found company elsewhere.

He would pick random recruits to annoy for a day then leave them alone. Sometimes he annoyed Price because the captain had some actually funny facial expressions and if Soap said something off putting, Price would let him know without any words. But he tried to leave Price alone as much as possible. He didn’t want to wear him out like he did Ghost.

So Gaz became his next target. After the first day of inserting himself into Gaz’s dad-to-day, he would talk about whatever with him. He could say things to Gaz that he couldn’t with recruits or with Price (his judging facial expressions were amusing but did have a impact after a bit). Gaz would engage back, which was a nice change to the hesitant replies from the recruits or the short replies from Price (who was usually working on something when Soap “graced” him with his presence).

He found Gaz in Price’s office filing things away for the man while he was away. He decided to join him, pulling a chair from the corner of the room and sitting next to Gaz. After a minute they started talking about random things. Then Gaz asked him a question.

“Soap, I have to know… did you and Ghost get into a fight or something?”

Soap was doodling on his arm with a marker when Gaz asked this. He looked up with a confused expression, “No?”

“Really? Everyone thought something happened between you two since you’re not hanging out anymore.”

“I left before something did happen,” Soap replied as he returned to doodling.

It was Gaz’s turn to be confused, “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, Garrick. Man was bound to snap givin’ how much I bothered him!”

“Didn’t really look like you were bothering him. He’s been upset since you started avoiding him.”

Soap stops again, the felt tip of the marker presses into his skin. He’s been doing such a good job of avoiding Ghost and giving him his space that he hadn’t noticed how the man reacted to all of this.

“Upset? Sure it’s not been relief?”

He forced a laugh at the end of that statement but Gaz wasn’t laughing back.

“Soap, man is one wrong tone away from ripping someone’s head off. That’s why everyone thinks you two got into a fight. But you just left without any reason?”

Soap stares at Gaz, “What?”

“Soap… He’s been pissed at the world since his best friend just abandoned him!”

Best friend?

Those words shook Soap to his core. All his previous “best friends” were some poor sods who were a bit too friendly with him and Soap latched onto them, mistaking their tolerance for acceptance. He would notice after being dropped by someone he saw as his best friend that people would refer to them as his victim, not his friend. He never heard anyone referred to as his friend in general, let alone best friend.

“I’m-I’m not- He’s not my best friend. He could barely tolerate me…”

Gaz chose then to laugh, “You’re pulling my leg!”

When Gaz finally stopped laughing and noticed the incredibly confused look on Soap’s face. His smile drops and a grim look takes over.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

Soap shakes his head wordlessly.

“Seriously? You’re like his favorite person out of everyone anywhere. He likes you over Laswell!”

“No he doesn’t-“

“Man, yes he does! Where have you been where you think that you’re not Ghost’s favorite person?”

Soap stands abruptly, “Stop fucking with me, Gaz!”

Gaz flinches, “Soap-“

“Where have I been? Where have you been?! There is no way Ghost likes me- I’m just an annoying fly in his ear.”

Soap was nicknamed “Fly” as a kid by his dad, said he was as annoying and hard to get rid of as the actual insect. When he left for the military and eventually earned the callsign “Soap”, he never thought he would feel relief to be called a cleaning product before.

Soap storms off, leaving Gaz staring at him with concern written across his face. He all but ran out of the base, not caring how many people he almost ran into on his way out. He didn’t care that it was pouring rain or that he didn’t have a jacket on him, just a long sleeved shirt and some joggers on. He absentmindedly pushed his sleeve down on the arm he was doodling on as he walked. It was cold like hell froze over, which would have had to happen for Gaz, anyone, to think that Ghost liked him.

He came to a sewer pipe that they practiced crawling through with gear on to prepare for the field. But for now it was a place to hide. Soap crawled inside, finding it much roomier without twenty/thirty pounds of gear on. He curls up in a fetal position, every bit of his childhood, every moment that led up to him becoming who he was. To the mask that he wore every day. It all flooded over him.

His sisters complaining when he tried to play with them. His mother swatting him when he forgot to stop talking. His father forgetting to pick him up after school. His classmates talking about him behind his back. One of his teachers muttering “Something’s not right with him” as he walked away from her desk. His first boyfriend telling him that he was too clingy and that it was creeping him out. His first “best friend” telling him he was too weird and talked too much.

Once the dam broke he couldn’t stop the tears.

Out of all the cruel things that happened to him throughout the years, this was the cruelest of them all. That brief moment where he actually believed that Ghost liked him. That his laughs were genuine when Soap told a joke. That he actually paid attention when he told a story. That when Soap was excited about something he actually stopped to listen. But none of that was real.

Because Soap was a bit too much for anyone to handle.

Another amazing fix that I would like to keep track of

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945552

Can someone do a fanfic (or multiple) where Wolffe finds Plo. And just. The cuteness that would bring. Please.

*clears throat* so what the fuck happened

Tell me this was not how tony stark adopted Peter Parker.

super late but here’s a very specific ship dynamic i’ve been obssessed with recently

Bucky Barnes + Tumblr Text Posts

+ a Civil War Bonus:

Squishy sand makes brain go brrrrrr

Drop & Squish Collection by sand.tagious

I think we may have a vine problem.

You gave us kid Joseph with his uncle Simon. Your fic was adorable <3

Sketches for a fic I wrote. Domestic SoapGhost and Uncle Ghost with Joseph. 👀

okay lets be honest for a second.

if sarah had survived, would she and ellie be friends like joel said?

imo, yes. sarah and ellie were a lot alike style wise. look at sarahs room, compared to ellies room. theyd be such good friends.

thank you naughty dog for killing her off :(

(tbh she wouldnt have suvived long. she seems like the type of person who mentally wouldnt handle the outbreak)