I Strongly Urge Any Ghost/Soap Find Out There To Go And Read Through The Entirety Of Simple Math So Far,

Die temu ad die

homophobes are not allowed to use computers because the inventor of the computer was gay

Ghaop.

i care btw. i care abt the song ur listening to or the bug u saw or how u just got outta the shower or how ur happily hanging out w ur friends or how ur kinda sad or how good was the meal u just had or ur fav character from an indie game nobody knows or if u chugged down some water. i always will

choices have consequences johnny

Lost and Found Masterlist

Simon finds things. He cares for them. He collects lost things, shunned things, he feeds them and they don't leave. Well, at least you make good pasta, honey.

(Asks are open for this story! Please ask me things)

i. roll call and rainy nights

the distribution system strikes again

ii. tall grass and honey

you make pasta, and a list

iii. grocers and grabby hands

your determination gets you marshmallows. simon is in desperate need of some lemonade.

iv. creekwater eggshells

dinner is a process. you need a nap.

v. dinner de novo

you cook for friends, and make a few others

Tidbits and Asks

Break In

someone decides to break into your cottage. and no one hurts your home and gets away with it.

drink some fucking water

reblog this if you're okay with booping spams please !!

Day 1 of 31 days of COD

Word count: 2.7k

Relationships: Heavily implied poly!141. Ghoap.

Tags: Found family, hurt/comfort, 3+1 things

Three times the 141 tells Ghost that they love him and the one time he says it back. Keep reading under the read more or on AO3

The mess hall was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that hangs heavy before an operation. The clatter of utensils against steel trays was the only sound in the empty space as Ghost and Soap sat at a corner table. Ghost, as usual, wore his mask—his eyes sharp, focused, barely acknowledging the food in front of him. Soap, on the other hand, was his usual animated self, though even he couldn't mask the tension that lingered in the air.

They were about to head out on a mission. High risk, but that wasnʼt new to them. Still, this one felt heavier, like there was more at stake than usual. Soap, ever the optimist, had spent the last hour cracking jokes, trying to lighten the mood. But now, as they both sat in silence, picking at the last remnants of their food, something shifted. Soap's usual carefree grin faded as he looked over at Ghost.

"Simon," Soap started, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He was fiddling with the edge of his tray, eyes darting from the food to Ghost, and then back again.

Ghost tilted his head, glancing up at him. "What?"

Soap swallowed hard, eyes searching Ghost's masked face. He looked like he was about to say something important, something that didn't come with a punchline. "Look... we're about to go into something messy. We both know it."

Ghost didnʼt say anything, just kept his gaze on Soap. Soap continued, his voice dropping lower, more serious than Ghost had ever heard him.

"I just... I wanted you to know that I love you." Soap said it like a weight had been lifted off his chest, but the words landed like a ton of bricks in the quiet air between them. "And you donʼt have to say it back. You never have to. But I needed to say it, just once, before anything else happens."

Ghost's hands tightened around his tray, knuckles turning white under his gloves. He wasnʼt good with words, and Soap knew that. But this... this was something else entirely. His mind raced, searching for a response, but nothing came. What could he possibly say?

For once, Soap didnʼt fill the silence. He just smiled, a sad, soft smile that reached his eyes in a way that felt more vulnerable than Ghost had ever seen.

"Itʼs okay, Simon. Really. You donʼt have to say anything. Weʼll figure it out... after this mission. Just—"

But Soapʼs words were cut short, because in that moment, Ghost moved. He didnʼt speak, didnʼt try to explain himself or return the words Soap had given him. Instead, he grabbed the front of Soapʼs shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. It wasnʼt gentle, wasnʼt soft—it was desperate, raw, and maybe even a little reckless. It was everything Ghost couldnʼt say.

Soap's breath hitched for a second, startled by the suddenness of it, but then he melted into it, his hand coming up to the back of Ghostʼs neck, pulling him closer, grounding them both in the chaos of the moment.

When Ghost pulled back, Soapʼs eyes were wide, his lips parted in surprise. But there was a glimmer of something else there too—understanding.

"Itʼs okay, Simon," Soap whispered, his voice rough but warm, like he was steadying them both. "Weʼll figure it out. Together."

Ghost nodded, still saying nothing. Soap didnʼt press for more. He just stood up, grabbing his gear, before giving Ghost one last lingering glance. "Be careful out there, aye? Canʼt have you dyin' before we get to talk about this."

Ghost watched him walk away, his chest tight, the words "I love you" sitting heavy on his tongue, unspoken, but present. He didn't need to say it—not yet. Soap had heard it in the kiss.  

 The air was thick with dust and the scent of gunpowder as Gaz and Ghost sprinted through the narrow alley, enemy fire echoing off the crumbling buildings around them. They were supposed to rendezvous with Price and Soap at the extraction point, but things had gone south fast. Bullets ricocheted off walls, kicking up dirt and debris, forcing them to duck and weave through the abandoned streets.

"Go!" Ghost barked, his voice barely audible over the gunfire as he slowed his pace, scanning their surroundings for cover.

Gaz didnʼt listen, matching Ghostʼs pace step for step. "Iʼm not leaving you, Lt.!"

Ghost cursed under his breath, catching sight of a partially destroyed building ahead. He grabbed Gaz by the arm and yanked him toward it, shoving him through the doorway. They stumbled inside, quickly pressing their backs against the wall, chests heaving from the exertion.

"Go. Now," Ghost demanded, his voice harsh. "I'll cover you."

But Gaz didn't budge. "Are you mad? You think Iʼm gonna leave you here to handle this on your own?"

Ghostʼs hand flexed around his rifle, frustration brewing beneath his mask. He turned his gaze to Gaz, sharp and unyielding. "I can handle it."

Gaz scoffed, shaking his head, his breath still coming out in heavy gasps. "Like hell you can. Youʼre not invincible, Simon."

"I said, leave." Ghostʼs voice was dangerously low, but Gaz didn't falter.

They locked eyes for a moment, the tension palpable between them. Gazʼs heart pounded in his chest, not just from the running, but from the realisation of what was happening. Something was wrong. Ghost was usually the last person to suggest retreat, especially not when it involved staying behind alone.

"Simon," Gaz started, but Ghost cut him off.

"Iʼm hit." The words came out through gritted teeth, more a confession than a statement. He shifted slightly, revealing the dark stain spreading across his side. Blood.

Gazʼs stomach dropped. "Bloody hell..." he whispered, reaching out instinctively to steady Ghost, who leaned heavily against the wall, his breaths ragged.

"Go," Ghost repeated, his voice weaker now, but no less insistent. "I'll hold them off."

Gaz shook his head, eyes burning with frustration. "Iʼm not leaving you. Iʼm not..."

But Ghost was already pushing him toward the exit. "You need to get back to Price and Soap. Get them out. Keep them safe"

Gazʼs throat tightened. He couldn't—wouldn't—leave Ghost here to die. His mind raced, but Ghost was already too far gone, leaning heavily against the wall, blood pouring from the wound.

Gaz swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He didn't have time. He couldn't think about what might happen if he stayed.

"I'll come back for you," he promised, voice shaking, more emotion in it than he intended. His hands came up to cup his cheeks, the unspoken weight of his words hanging between them.

Gazʼs hands trembled against Ghostʼs face, his voice catching as he spoke again. "I love you, Simon. I... Iʼll come back."

Gaz placed a tear-filled kiss to his forehead before he pulled away, running toward the extraction point. The words "I love you" echoed in his ears, the warmth of Gaz lingered, but the words Ghost wanted to say in return stayed lodged in his throat.

Ghostʼs head felt heavy, a dull throb pulsing at his temples as he slowly came to. The sterile smell of the infirmary filled his nose, the beeping of machines around him distant but steady. His body ached, but it was the warmth of a hand wrapped around his that pulled him fully into consciousness.

He blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim light. It took him a moment to recognise where he was, and even longer to realise he wasnʼt alone. Price sat beside him, eyes closed, lips moving in a soft murmur that Ghost couldnʼt quite make out.

Ghost remained still, not yet alert enough to move, but he could hear the low, rasping sound of Priceʼs voice, like he was praying—no, not praying—pleading. Priceʼs hand squeezed Ghostʼs, and his voice cracked slightly as he whispered, "Please... Simon, just wake up."

It hit Ghost like a punch to the chest. Price was talking to him—no, begging him to wake up. His captain. The man who never showed anything but strength, who led them into hell and back, was now sitting at his bedside, clutching his hand like it was his lifeline.

Ghostʼs breath hitched, and Price must have felt it because he suddenly froze, his grip tightening as he looked up. When their eyes met, Ghost could see the exhaustion, the raw emotion etched into every line of Priceʼs face.

"Simon..." Priceʼs voice was barely a whisper now, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank God."

Ghost tried to speak, but the words wouldnʼt come. His throat felt tight, his chest heavy. Price leaned forward, resting his forehead against Ghostʼs, and for the first time in years, Ghost felt tears slip down his cheeks.

"I love you," Price murmured, the words soft but certain, his voice trembling. "I canʼt—" He choked on the words, pulling Ghostʼs hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles "I canʼt lose you, Simon."

Ghost wanted to say it back, but he couldn't. The words were stuck, buried beneath the years of walls heʼd built. Instead, he let the tears fall, his hand clutching Priceʼs as if that alone could convey everything he couldn't say.

Price didn't push. He just held Ghost, murmuring soft words of comfort until Ghost finally drifted back into sleep, still holding on.

Ghost blinked blearily, the soft hum of voices pulling him from the haze of unconsciousness. His body ached, heavy with the weight of injury and medication, but it was the sound of his team—their voices low, tense—that cut through the fog.

When he opened his eyes, his vision slowly sharpened, revealing Soap, Gaz, and Price, all huddled around his bed. Soap was the first to notice he was awake. Without a second thought, Soap leaned down and kissed him—hard and fast, like he was afraid Ghost might disappear if he didnʼt hold him close enough. The kiss was raw and filled with something unspoken, something desperate.

"You bloody idiot," Soap muttered, his voice thick with emotion. His usual grin was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a vulnerable, open expression Ghost rarely saw. "You couldʼve gotten yourself killed."

Ghost parted his lips to respond, but Soap shook his head, cutting him off. "Donʼt. You did something stupid out there, Simon. You didnʼt have to."

Guilt twisted in Ghostʼs chest, but before he could fully process Soapʼs words, Gaz stepped forward. His body was tense, his eyes burning with emotion he could barely contain.

"I shouldnʼt have left you," Gaz spat, his voice cracking as he started pacing the small room like a caged animal. "II couldnʼt live with myself if something happened to you because of me." His fists clenched at his sides, trembling as he struggled to maintain control. He stopped abruptly, turning to face Ghost, his face twisting with guilt. "Itʼs been a week, Simon. A week of waiting for you to wake up, all because I left you there. You canʼt do that to me! To us! We love you, and you have no right to just—"

His voice broke, and he turned away quickly, hiding the tears that had started to fall. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs, the emotion finally spilling over.

For a long moment, Ghost said nothing, the weight of Gaz's words sinking deep. His throat tightened, the sharp pang of guilt growing stronger. He hadn't meant for this to happen, hadn't realised just how much his actions would hurt them. But now, seeing the way Gaz was falling apart in front of him, it became all too real.

Slowly, Ghost reached out, catching Gazʼs wrist. "Gaz..." His voice was rough, but his grip was firm. "Itʼs not your fault. It was my call. I didn't want you to—"

Gaz shook his head, yanking his wrist free only to grab Ghostʼs hand, holding it. "You always say that," he whispered, his voice still thick with tears. "You always try to carry the weight on your own, like you donʼt trust us enough to help you." His eyes were bright with emotion, his grip on Ghostʼs hand tightening. "Youʼre not alone, Simon. We need you just as much as you need us."

Ghost stared at him, feeling the sincerity behind Gazʼs words cut through the fog in his mind. It had always been easier to act like he was a tool—just a weapon. But hearing Gaz, seeing him so broken, made something shift inside Ghost.

"Iʼm sorry," Ghost whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't think—"

Before he could finish, Price stepped forward, his presence looming, and Ghost could feel the weight of his commanding officerʼs gaze on him. There was no hiding from Priceʼs judgment.

"You didn't think, Simon?" Priceʼs voice was low, gruff, but it carried the weight of barely controlled anger. His hand found Ghostʼs shoulder, gripping it firmly. "Do you think any of us could stand to lose you?" His tone was sharp, reprimanding, but Ghost could hear the hurt underneath. "You may think youʼre just another soldier, but youʼre not. Youʼre ours."

Priceʼs grip tightened, and Ghost could see the deep concern in his eyes, cutting through the usual hardened exterior. There was something else too— something vulnerable.

"You donʼt get to just throw yourself away," Price continued, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "You think youʼre sparing us by pushing us away, by keeping us at armʼs length? Youʼre bloody wrong." His hand moved from Ghostʼs shoulder to his cheek, cradling it in a rare, intimate gesture.

Ghost swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the weight of Priceʼs words. He had always believed that if he kept his distance, he could protect them—keep them from being hurt. But seeing the raw emotion in Priceʼs eyes, the way Gaz

and Soap were standing by his side, looking at him like he was something more than just a soldier, Ghost finally understood.

His defences broke down completely, and his voice trembled as he spoke. "Iʼm sorry," he said, looking at each of them in turn. "I didn't know... I didn't know-."

Soap shushed him gently, his hand coming up to wipe at his eyes before leaning down again, pressing his forehead against Ghostʼs. "Youʼre an idiot, Simon," he muttered, his voice filled with affection. "But we love you anyway."

Gaz, still holding Ghostʼs hand tightly, leaned in close, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Ghostʼs hand. "We need you, Simon. We canʼt do this without you."

Price, standing above them, brushed his thumb gently along Ghostʼs cheek, his gruff expression softening. "Youʼre not going anywhere," he murmured. Then, in a softer voice, "I love you, Simon. We all do."

The air in the room shifted, a quiet, fragile peace settling over them. Ghost could feel the weight of their words, their touch, sinking into him. He wasn't used to this kind of closeness, wasn't used to being cared for like this. But as each of them leaned in, offering him a kiss, a touch, a reminder that they were here—he let himself accept it.

Soap kissed him again, slower this time, the anger and fear from before replaced with something gentler. Gaz followed, pressing a soft kiss to Ghostʼs temple, his hand never letting go. And Price, his touch firm yet tender, leaned down, pressing his lips against Ghostʼs forehead in a gesture that felt protective, comforting.

One by one, they all wrapped around him—Soap tucking himself against Ghostʼs side, Gaz leaning into him, his head resting on Ghostʼs shoulder, and Price laying his head gently on Ghostʼs thigh, holding his hand firmly.

Ghost started carding his fingers through Soap and Priceʼs hair, grounding himself by untangling the knots he finds.

He felt their warmth, their weight, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel alone. He didn't have to.

His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything he had been holding back. "I love you," he said, the words thick with emotion. "All of you."

Soap let out a soft laugh, his breath warm against Ghostʼs neck. "ʼBout time you said it."

Gaz smiled, his eyes still red from crying but full of relief. "We've got you," he whispered. "Always."

"Youʼre not alone, Simon. Not anymore." Price said, voice slightly muffled by Ghostʼs knuckles against his lips.

They huddled around him, their bodies pressed close, their breaths steady, and for the first time in his life, Simon Riley let himself be held—truly held—by the people who loved him.

And for the first time, it didn't feel like weakness. It felt like home.

logan howlett has always been THAT bitch