1 - 20 of 100 Works in Simon "Ghost" Riley is Soft for John "Soap" MacTavish
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“John?”
The sound of his teacher's voice snapped him out of the daydream he was stuck in. Shaking his head, he looked up at his history teacher, Mr. Price, who had a small frown upon his lips.
“With me, John?” Mr. Price asked, earning a soft sigh and a confident nod from John. Price was always good about that sort of thing, keeping his students interested, never getting angry. He was a little impatient, but he would never yell or embarrass them. Although John was the most frequent of his students to space out, it wasn’t like he didn’t try to pay attention. He really did, but sometimes it just happened. That's what comes with being on the spectrum, John guessed.
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It happens every month, marked by a red '×' on the calender, warned with ailment days before and followed with aches and discomfort lingering well after Soap is back to normal.
Of course, being a werewolf is never easy for Soap, having to deal with the transformation and the aftermath of the sudden changes and mutilation of his body, but he knows someone who will always be there.
Ghost.
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Busy Woman - Simon 'Ghost' Riley, John 'Soap' MacTavish, Reader by iamrhaetargaryen17
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
05 Oct 2025
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For the entirety of your existence you’d always had a knack for provoking people — the system — and rules. What started as a small act of defiance before you turned twenty had become the very bane of your existence. You were extremely good at reading patterns, analyzing them and decoding them. You weren’t perfect, but nine times out of ten you were right about what you said.
You’d started a small rebellion group — at least that’s what the papers called it. With a love of travel and a hatred for injustice, it wasn’t unexpected that you were able to move around the world and piss off important people. At first it was just local troublemakers — that soon changed. As the years passed you became almost the face of a public political movement, talking about injustices, laws and crimes.
Now, you're on the run. Hiding from the justice system. What begins as another act of defiance to leak about a war that will turn the world upside down, turns into you being haunted down by the TASK FORCE 141.
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Johnny is recovering from brain damage, and Simon is the one required to take care of him after Johnny got discharged from the hospital.
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John is dating a Eric, a cuckold who brings him home a real big play thing.
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LochAndLoaded — Read your profile and I think you might be exactly what I’m looking for. Never done this before, have no idea what I’m doing. I’m used to being in control, but I think I’d like to see what it’s like to give it up.
John’s stomach flips as he reads it over, fingers tightening around the phone, breath hitching tightly in his chest. He doesn’t regret what he said, because it’s true. He does want to know what it would be like. And yet, he can’t help how raw it makes him feel, how exposed. Like something has been peeled open inside of him, and John is helpless to stop it.
He doesn’t even know when these thoughts started, only that he’s been thinking them for a while. This wanting turning into a need, sharp and relentless, plaguing John’s every waking thoughts. He knows he could go to the bar, knows he could find a pretty lad or lass and settle the ache in his belly.
But that ache always comes back.
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A storm knocks out the power in the barracks, leaving Ghost, Soap, and their younger sergeant boyfriend huddled under blankets with bad horror movies, warm mugs, and each other. What starts as shared comfort turns into something hungrier—three soldiers tangled in secret, stealing heat and tenderness in the dark. In the aftermath, it’s not the storm they’ll have to explain, but the state of the couch come morning.
Inspired by a post from @LoganWalkerz on Twt.
Series
- Part 3 of Call of Booty
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“Wow, thought there weren’t any nice places in Scotland,” he tried to joke.
“I’m not in the mood, Simon,” he uttered, “How did you know I was here?”
“I mean, you’ve drawn this place dozens of times, I asked your folks where this was,” Simon shrugged.
“You looked through my stuff,” John scowled.
“Right, yeah, when your boyfriend vanishes and turns off his phone, get back to me and we’ll have this conversation,” Simon snarked.
“You do that, fairly regularly actually,” John hissed, clenching his fists.
“All right, all right,” Simon put his hands up, “I’m sorry, but I was worried,” the fight drained from his voice, “You never told me,”
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After an awkward meal, Ghost is shown just how strained Soap's relationship with his brother is
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"'Soap?' Ghost asked, dumbfounded. He knew what drag was, he wasn’t fucking stupid, but knowing what drag is and seeing the man you’ve been infatuated with for years at a gay bar, in drag, are two entirely different things to contend with.
Soap tutted, placing one hand on a generous hip–Ghost was certain he’d put padding there–and the other flat on his chest, as if he was offended at the question.
'That's Lady Lather t'you, sir.'"Or
The song Andrew in Drag REALLY did a number on my psyche. -
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This is a rewrite of my first fic.
Johnny asks Simon one night, long after their retirement what he would've done if they had never met. Simon has a lot to say about this.
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John Price has always considered himself a project. A work in progress and someone who isn’t love but there for a good time. Until he meets Simon and is desperate to not break his heart. His disclaimer has fallen on deaf ears.
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"You wear that mask because you think it makes you like death. Cold and distant. Merciless. But Simon, how can I prove to you how wrong that is? I don't know how to put it, but that day, you were an angel. An angel with a shotgun, sure, but an angel nonetheless. You made me believe in myself again. I thought I was gonna die, Simon. And you made me... you made me feel like it was possible to live."
Or...
A childhood friends AU where Soap & Ghost met when they were kids, and how they found each other again after they grew up.
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Soap's been making increasingly terrible jokes at Ghost for months.
Ghost sometimes huffs. That might be a laugh. Maybe.Soap's also been sitting closer, flirting harder, and generally
making a fool of himself.Ghost hasn't told him to stop.
That has to mean something.
Right? -
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Around him weights shifted, words echoed, glasses clinked but Simon’s mind registered none of it. It was all noise, dull and unnecessary static. Faded and unimportant in the face of the presence of the sun. His blue-eyed, brown-haired Scotsman-shaped sun. John MacTavish. His Johnny.
The object of his obsession, the very personification of his desire.Or, Simon misses his babygirl Soap after a solo-mission and can't wait to have him.
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"Ye think we're doomed in every universe...?"
"...Yeah..."
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Ghost comforts a rookie who has come out to his family and gotten met with homophobic responses.
TW. Slight Homophobia.
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Imagine Being Loved By Me by hotwingsaremyfavorite86
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
15 Aug 2025
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Simon and Johnny have been together for over a year. Things changed for them in Las Almas. Simon is falling in love and Johnny's fiancée has made an appearance on the base. A fiancée that Simon had no clue even existed.
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I'll Wait For You, Just Like You Do by artemisswrites
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
24 Jul 2025
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“Do us a favour and set us an alarm for six, before we sleep,” John hummed, making the mental note for later. But his thoughts were soon shelved when he felt Simon bit down on his collarbone.
The buzzing on a phone broke through Simon’s sleep, an ache was felt through his body, one that he welcomed happily along with the memories of what had happened only a few hours prior. Instead of being able to continue on last nights events, Simon turned around to find John’s side of the bed empty and the sound of the shower echoing through the room. Simon shifted over the John’s side of the bed, looking to turn off the alarm. However, John’s phone was nowhere to be found, the sound of the running water was accompanied by John’s music.
“Shit,” Simon hissed, clambering back to his side of the bed, picking up his buzzing phone. It was nearly nine o’clock, and this was not the first phone call that had come through; he was meant to be on his way to Manchester by now.
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What if Simon still owned Tommy and Beth's house, but no one knew, so when he has to rush out one morning to help sort the plumbing, Johnny is left to jump to conclusions.
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It’s been three weeks since Johnny died, and Simon hasn’t touched a thing in their room. The bed’s still unmade. The boots are still under it. The air’s thick with a silence that’s louder than gunfire ever was. Grief lingers in the walls like mold, and Simon can’t scrub it out—can’t even bring himself to try. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t sleep. He barely breathes. Johnny was everything Simon wasn’t—light, noise, laughter—and now he’s gone, and all that’s left is the wreckage of what they never said. What Simon never had the guts to say.
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Gaz can't find Soap and Roach, so he opens his phone and opens a group text to try and find them.