Moonshard
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I want to say something to all my readers.
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Ghost has been hard at work tackling his aversion to touch since the 141 came together. He’d been irate the first time Soap and Gaz tried casually throwing an arm around him. He had felt repulsed, nauseous, scared…
Warm. Comforted.
It took him a few weeks to admit to himself and his therapist that physical touch was a love language he has been severely starved of.
Thankfully it’s a language that his squad is annoyingly fluent in. More often than not he loves being close to his team now.
Only Soap has this strange ability to make him crave more, though.
Featuring Ghost with a PTSD induced temperature regulation issue and Soap, who wants nothing more than to be used as a personal heater.Bookmarked by Moonshard
14 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 Moonshard
14 Jun 2026
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Getting shot in the head should have killed Soap. Technically, it did. But Ghost got his heart beating again.
A year of recovery, and he’s finally back where he belongs: with Task Force 141.
Back with Ghost.
He shouldn’t think about Ghost the way he does. Shouldn’t imagine those hands on him. Shouldn’t wonder about the man behind the mask. And he definitely shouldn’t want him with the kind of hunger that has no place between teammates.
But wanting has never cared much for should.
So now he’s back in the middle of chasing Makarov, trying to keep his head straight while everything in him keeps turning toward Ghost.
Duty’s one thing. Desire’s another.
And coming back from the dead has a way of making a man honest about both.
Bookmarked by Moonshard
13 Jun 2026
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Bookmarked by Moonshard
11 Jun 2026
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Summary
As a fair warning, trans in this fic does not pertain to male / female dynamics. Both characters are male.
Trans here pertains to their secondary sex, and bitching / studding.
Bookmarked by Moonshard
08 Jun 2026