ReneSe
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Soap lingers, invisible. He can touch and beg all he wants, but nothing seems to get through to Ghost shutting down in front of him. All that's left to do is watch and hope that maybe soon it won't be so lonely.
- Language:
- English
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- 5,771
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- Comments:
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- Kudos:
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Bookmarked by ReneSe
17 Oct 2026
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After a fight with Soap, Simon flees to a motel on the other side of the world to contemplate his transgressions.
He doesn't expect a visitor.
Piss and emotionally repressed men ensue.
Bookmarked by ReneSe
01 Oct 2026
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hold me like i'm sunburnt (raging, fever, flame) by buttercup_beetle
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
22 Sep 2026
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“I mean,” the medic lifts one shoulder, expectant, “that’s where you come in.”
Soap blinks. “Pardon me?”
The medic flips open her clipboard again, and turns it around to show him a stack of paperwork. “Section 32-B-156. The specialty permissions, for missions like what we had Riley on.” she says, tapping on a line of extraordinarily fine print. “Covering aphrodisiacs, hormonal and mood-affecting non-lethal substances on and off active duty.”
Then, she points at a tiny box, where Soap can see his first and last name scrawled in black pen. In familiar, looping cursive, Ghost’s hand as well-known as his voice when Johnny’s looking for it. “According to Riley’s file, you’re the primary contact for these situations.”
Soap stares.
Bookmarked by ReneSe
23 Sep 2026
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Anathema
noun. Someone or something intensely disliked or loathed.
noun. One that is cursed by ecclesiastical authority.John MacTavish had always been a man of faith.
Why, then, did he allow himself to fall for a man?Bookmarked by ReneSe
20 Jun 2026
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“Missed me,” Ghost crackles in his ear. Warm, teasing. A tone that Soap is almost certain is reserved for him.
Soap scoffs. "Prove it."
“Aw,” Ghost tuts. “Don’t trust me?”
No one I trust more, Sir. He doesn’t say it. Not that he isn’t sure Ghost already knows; if he’s even half as inhumanly perceptive as everyone gives him credit for, then he has to know, has to feel that tangible presence orbiting between them. (The direct acknowledgement of this entity feels too unshakably taboo. A point of no return that takes the shape of something gnarly; a feral elephant in the room that threatens to maul one or both of them down if addressed.)
“Bastard,” he grumbles instead. Wonders if his voice is as thick with affection over the com as it sounds spoken aloud. Would it matter, if it was?
//
[smut all the way down with a healthy dose of yearning]
Bookmarked by ReneSe
13 Jun 2026