Oh. Oh This One Hurt-

No because like, with Soaps new skin imagine if they pull some Winter Soldier type shit

Ghost: Johnny..?

Soap: Who the hell is Johnny?

Dang, so much in depth detail, names, ‘nd stuff. I love it 🙂

Ghaoptober #1

Prompt: Drive

Words: 2200~

TW: Mentions of Torture. (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

This one got very out of hand, I couldn't think of anything to do with cars, so I took it in a different direction.

Hope you Enjoy!

Ghost steps back, wiping his hand off on his thigh, uncaring of the sticky smears it leaves behind. Staring, he lets the knuckles of his -marginally cleaner- hand press against his lips through his balaclava as he debates with himself. The action was a remnant of Simon Riley's old habit of chewing on his fingers. The interrogation was stalling, it'd been going on for too long, their guest had lost the haze of shock and fear, he was starting to acclimatize to The Ghost. It was taking more to pull less from him, and he still hadn’t fessed up to where his homebase is. 

Thaddaeus Gedaliah, the man in charge of getting a lot of very bad people what they needed, where they needed it. He’d been a lucky grab off a facility raid, they’d had no information on Gedaliah being anywhere near that side of the globe. The 141 found it highly suspicious, as they were well stuck into to the habit of looking gift horses in the mouth.

Ghost thought back, trying to recall the base’s practice schedules, then walked out of the room to consult with Price. 

“Router Woods is empty right now?” He stood alongside the Captain, staring in at Gedaliah as the man dropped his head back, letting it hang off his shoulders as he slumped into the chair he was bound to. He was closer to breaking than Ghost had estimated. 

Good. 

Now the trick was making sure he broke in a helpful direction and didn’t just lose his mind. 

“Should be.” Price affirmed after a moment of thought and a quick check on his phone, “Need it?”

“Affirm, Johnny’s exercising?”

“He usually starts around now. But you already knew that.” Price side-eyed him.

Ghost nodded as he turned away and headed for the exit. He had already known, but it was only polite to give the Captain an idea of what he was planning. Cresting the stairs and pushing through the doors, Ghost held up a hand to ward off the glare of the sun and glanced around for anyone he could send running for Johnny.

The interrogation block was part of the general detainment building, a good two-dozen metres back from the rear of the main-building, situated smack dab in the centre of the base. The actual interrogation block was on the bottom floor, deep underground to take advantage of the natural soundproofing. 

“Corporal Winslow!” Ghost called the woman over, standing through the obligatory salute and ‘Sir!’, “Where are you headed?”

The Corporal seemed confused -Ghost couldn’t blame her, he wasn’t one for small talk or asking after others-, but answered promptly. “I’ve just begun my free hours, Sir. I’m-”

“Good,” Ghost cut in, “Tell Sergeant Mactavish to R.V with Captain Price and I at the south entrance of Router Woods A.S.A.P. You’ll find him in the delta sector of the gym.” 

The Corporal gave a crisp, ‘Yes, Sir!’ with another salute and obediently trotted off in the direction of the gymnasium centre. 

Giving a satisfied nod, Ghost headed back down into the interrogation block. Corporal Winslow was shaping up well with her recent promotion, there’s not many that would have handled a blood stained ghost-story barking orders at them with her perfunctory calm. 

“Planning to wash him out?” Captain Price asked, meeting him at the base of the stairs.

“With your permission of course, Sir.” Ghost let a grin stretch his mouth, but bowed his head to the Captain with sincere deference. If Price disagreed, Ghost would listen.

“Nah, you know that I trust you with this. If this is what you think will work, this is what we’ll do.” Price held open the door to Ghost's working room for him.

Stepping up to Gedaliah, Ghost let his excitement shine through his eyes. Reveling in the nervous swallow that bobbed in the other man’s throat. This wasn’t what Gedaliah had come to expect. The door had only opened long enough to permit Ghost’s entry for the past three days, Gedaliah hadn’t seen another human in at least seven before that. Thaddeus didn’t seem excited about this sudden change in routine.

Smart man.

Any wounds still freely bleeding were bluntly staunched, a gag stuffed into his mouth, hands tied behind his back, and his ankles secured to his hands. Ghost tested the give of the serviceable hog-tie, then hauled him up over his shoulder. Easily ignoring all squirming as he carried him out of the room, giving Price a thankful nod. 

Router Woods was a barbed and fenced-in copse of woods that made up a not insignificant part of the base’s northern footprint. It was occasionally utilised for training programs or punishments. 

After a quiet walk around the back of the base, so as to not prematurely scar any rooks and FNGs, Price and Ghost approached the south entrance. Router Woods' south entrance, matching all of its other entrances, was two trees with orange flags tied round their trunks with a rotting shack nearby that holds some surplus supplies, a log-book, and -if you’re very very lucky- a pen. 

Ghost dropped his luggage, rolling out his shoulders as Price popped into the booth to check the log-book.

“All clear. Last person logged as leaving 15:34 yesterday with no new entries.” Price read off, stretching the book's tether to get it into the light coming in through the shack’s open door.

“Good-”

“L.T! Price!” Came a cheery shout, the voice lilting with an unmistakable Scottish brogue.

“Johnny,” Ghost greeted, reeling in the Scot by the back of his neck to rub his balaclava-covered cheek over the top of his warhawk. Grinning at the happy squirming Johnny struggled to contain as he tried to stay firmly within range of the affectionate marking. 

“Hi, Si,” The Scot murmured after Ghost lifted his head, staring up at him with warm eyes that roiled with possessive greedy insatiable want. 

“Hi, Johnny,” Ghost murmured in return, rocking him gently by the firm grip he'd kept on his neck.

“That's enough of that, you muppets,” Price cut in, tossing the log-book back into the shack and securing the door with the Military Grade slide-latch that had been crookedly screwed into the frame. 

“Aye, right,” Johnny shook himself off after Ghost reluctantly released him, “Wha’d ye need me for then?” 

“Need you to wash out a target, Soap” Price informed him as Ghost didn’t seem inclined. Distracted, as the Lieutenant was, with watching his Sergeant. 

“Oh, ye always give meh the nicest ‘hings, L.T,” Soap all but purred, staring into those heated brown eyes, a wicked curl taking up the edges of his lips. 

“You’re not too tired, Johnny?” Ghost questioned.

“Nay, L.T. Hadnae even started my workout when Winslow grabbed meh.” Soap reassured, reining in the instincts urging him to wiggle about and rub happily up against his superiors.

Gedaliah chose that moment to take umbrage with being ignored and began flailing about like a landed fish, drawing Johnny’s gaze. The Sergeant's pupils focusing in on the roped man with a predatory gleam. 

“Someone’s eager,” Price’s face was serious, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed him, pleased to see his men happy, “I’ll just get our friend ready while you bring Soap up to speed, shall I,”

Ghost planted a hand on Johnny’s chest and walked him back a few steps, clocking the way his eyes never lost their lock on Gedaliah. “Soap,” He drew Johnny's focus to him, grabbing him by the chin when his eyes kept darting to where Price had given up unraveling Ghost’s knots and was cutting Gedaliah free.

“MacTavish.” he shook the Scot by the jaw, letting his fingers press firmly into Johnny’s cheeks, feeling the shapes of his teeth under his fingertips. Staring into his Sergeant's eyes to make sure he had his full attention, he felt Johnny nod into his grip. Letting Ghost know that he had him now. 

“Limbs only, No body-shots, No touching the head. He's mine, I’m not done with him.” Ghost kept his words calm and clear, making sure Johnny was registering what he was saying, “Copy?”

“Aye, Ghost.” Soap nodded, taking in deep huffing breaths, “Not mine.”

Ghost smiled at the basso notes creeping into Johnny’s voice, releasing his face and giving him a rough pat on the head, “Good boy.”

A scuffle snapped Johnny’s attention back to where Price was restraining Gedaliah, the man had tried to break Price’s grip, but the Captain still had him well in hand. 

“Ready? Ghost, you have a set of comms?” Price questioned, and at the successive yesses released his hold on Gedaliah, shooing the man into the woods when he turned a hesitant look on them, “Well go on then, you wanted to run didn't you?” Price raised a mocking eyebrow. Nodding with satisfaction when Gedaliah promptly turned tail and skedaddled into the woods. 

“You gonna run him or makin’ it quick?” Price propped his hands against his hips and turned back to Ghost, keeping an absent eye on Soap stripping down to his skivvies beside the Lieutenant.

 “Run him,” Ghost replied, his full attention on the now sky-clad Scot beside him. Without looking away, Ghost pulled a small bell out of a pocket, hooked it onto himself and tugged free the rag that stopped its ringing, “Need him scared,” 

Soap’s breathing slowed and rasped. A rumbling echoing up from deep in his chest as he stared into the trees. Tremble and shakes taking over his muscles. His skin jumping like a horse twitching off flies. 

“You got that Johnny?”

“Aye,” The word crackled from Johnny’s throat and the first grotesque snap rent the air. Soap fell into a crouch as his balance became compromised. His form warping, twisting, reforming into something broader, taller, furrier. 

The nauseating noises slowed to a stop and Soap walked his front limbs forward, letting his claws dig into the dirt as he dropped his hips close to the ground, giving a great whining yawn as he stretched his back out in a passing imitation of snake-pose. 

“Soap,” the amalgamation of wolf and man whipped its head around at Ghost’s call, Johnny’s blue eyes watching him from above that sharp-fanged muzzle. Ghost swung a flat palmed hand out to indicate the woods and barked, “Fass!” 

The werewolf wasted no time, launching forwards into the trees, sniffing briefly at the dirt to check which direction his prey had run, then picking up speed. Ears swiveling, focused on finding any sign of his quarry, Soap absently registered the quiet chiming that meant Ghost was following behind. A splash of blood on the leaf litter lit up his senses and sent him flying after the source. Johnny’s brown-furred tail vanishing amongst the foliage, followed by a crash and screams that Ghost easily recognized as Gedaliah’s. He picked up his pace to an easy jog, coming upon the scene of Gedaliah with his arm stuck tight in the trap of Soap’s jaws, the werewolf growling like a Harley, standing dominantly over the prone man, giving into his instincts to snarl and shake his prey every so often. Drawing pained wails from Gedaliah.

“Good, Soap,” Ghost calls, amused by the immediate tail-wag the praise gifts him, “Soap, Aus!”

Well-trained as any military man, Soap immediately releases the arm and back off a few steps, slavering jaws shaking with the need to regrab his prey. 

“You didn’t even get ten metres,” Ghost tsks down at Gedaliah.

The strangely amiable voice jolts Gedaliah out of the paralyzing staredown he’d been trapped in with Soap and he scrambles to turn over onto his belly and stumble to his feet. Strange, Ghost hadn’t got around to working on Gedaliah’s legs yet. 

Watching Gedaliah catch his balance against a trunk, Ghost offers some advice, “If I were you, I wouldn’t…” He trails off as Gedaliah takes off into the trees, leaving a trail of heinous cursing like bread-crumbs, “...run.” Ghost continues, glancing down to where Johnny is dancing on his paws, straining at the invisible leash of Ghost’s command, “It only triggers his prey-drive.” 

He watches Gedaliah bull his way farther into the forest, pleased to see that the man’s legs do seem to be working fine, it must have just been fear weakening his knees. Soap’s whining pitches up, the occasional yelp and quiet yowl creeping in as his new toy gets further and further away, but the werewolf doesn’t give voice to anything Ghost could reasonably call a bark.

What a good boy.

“Fass.” The syllable had barely crossed Ghost’s teeth before Johnny was racing away. Kicking up dirt and baying like a maniac. 

Ghost gives a wry shake of his head. He cannot believe he actually fell for that idiot. With a sigh that held more affection than exasperation, he started jogging after them. Maybe two more take-downs and Gedaliah should be more willing to talk. 

Ahead of him, Johnny tries to make a quick turn, doesn’t account for his momentum and skids sideways into a tree with a canopy shaking thud. The oversized mutt shakes himself, sniffs around, then takes off again. Tail wagging with uncontained joy the whole time.

Maybe three more take-downs.

Thank You For Reading!

So I chose to interpret drive as 'Prey Drive', and for that I needed it to be werewolf!soap and handler!ghost, nothing else fit. Also as you might have guessed, in this au, the 141 chose a homebase that has a little forest so wolfy Soap can run around in it.

I can't promise that all of my Ghoaptober responses will be this long, they most likely will not, but I'll try my best to make them nice to read regardless!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

the thing abt duke thomas is that he is a genius truly gifted kid who had a promising albeit average future ahead of him until tragedy struck and took his parents from him. then all the energy he has diverts and he blocks everything else out and dedicates himself to finding them and also being a huge problem for anyone who'd try to obscure that.

like #1 most underrated thing abt his character is that he is, by definition, a "retired crash out". after age 14 he had no friends, shit grades, was getting into fights so often he was being kicked out of schools AND foster homes. it truly was self made vigilatism and the power of friendship that saved him from tunnel-visioning into an early grave.

ALL THIS TO SAY my favorite thing abt duke thomas pre batman and the signal (hell even during the comic) is how much of an unapologetic asshole he is to everyone indiscriminately in a bad way. He was kind but lil bro was NOT nice. he was selfish and a dickhead even to ppl who cared and were really trying to help him. I really like to think that him getting past that wasn't dc neutering him but the active choice to get better after he finally found a solid support system. that being said, he most definitely code switches and has to CONSISTENTLY hold back from poppin bitches in they mouthes bcs hes past that! he's in his healing arc! <as he'd say.

| welcome to my blog |

You can find my full-written works on ao3 under the name corkinavoid or click this link.

If you want to see more of my prompts and ideas on this blog, check #cork prompts hashtag. #cork adds is for any kinds of additions to someone else's ideas, and #cork writes is generally for everything concerning my writing.

You are free to use any of my prompts as you wish with any alterations or without them, just link/credit/tag me. I'd also be absolutely delighted if you decide to post it elsewhere and send me a link!

Other than that, here's some fun facts about me:

• neurodivergent but not a minor

• English is not my first language

• my favorite ships are Dead Tired and Anger Management, and I'm also deeply in love with Al Ghul Twins trope

| masterpost |

I'm only linking my series here, not all prompts.

Changeling AU: [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [part 4], [part 5], [a fic "Danny! Wait, who's Danny?"], [part 6], [part 7]

Haunted Family AU: [part 1], [a fic "It takes three days to get adopted"], [a fic "A cat walks by herself, but so does a ghost"], [a fic "A new family, an old family, and a never ever happening family walk into a gala"], [part 5]

Mercenary Danny AU: [part 1], [a fic "I'll pay you ten times"], [a fic "I want to hire you"], [a fic "I'm asking you out"]

Multiverse Police/Good!GIW: [part 1], [part 2], [side notes], [part 3], [another part 1], [another part 2]

Fantasy Magic School AU: [part 1], [a fic 'Fiance to a Star'], check the tag # cork writes fantasy for more fun facts and moodboards

Fantasy Royal Fae AU: [part 1], [a fic 'Married to Winter']

Masters Mansion/Socialite Danny: [inspo], [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [a fic 'Coronation'], [a fic 'There Are No Living Here']

John Constantine's Ghost Kids: [part 1], [part 2]

All the al Ghul Twins related posts: [one], [two], [three], [four], [five], [six], [seven]

Duke in the back of the Batmobile covered in paint: Do you think different paints have different tastes?

Dick, in passenger seat as oldest rules staring absentmindedly out the window: They do.

Bruce, side eye in the cowl hits different: ...Why did you say that with such certainty?

Edit: now with a fanfic

My shaylaaaa

More dad Bruce comics hehe

Bat boys as conversations I’ve had with my siblings:

Duke doing his homework in the kitchen with the dishwasher, the microwave, the radio, and his head phones all making noise at once.

Tim walking by: Hey, Duke can you grab me a monster out of the fridge?

Duke having heard his name and then every other word: yet got it.

Duke doesn’t move:

Tim: …

Tim: Did you hear me?

Duke: you got it man!

Tim deciding to fuck with him: Agree with me if you’re gay

Duke: yep, once I’m done with my homework!

Tim, smiling: Okay thanks.

Tim walks by him and grabs the monster himself: Glad you agreed, the pole dancers were so busy

Duke actually being able to hear him this time: Wait what.

Roach my beloved 🪳🧎‍♀️

Bait & Switch, pt. 1

Part 2 >>

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, implied soapghost, hopeful ending cw: torture, angst, MWIII spoilers

---

Soap turns hazy, unfocused eyes toward the screen and watches the man with his face run down the tunnels under the English Channel. The man shoots at Konni soldiers, ferocity and desperation painted over every twitch of his brows and silent shout from his lips. 

It all seems so real.

But it can't be. It's not.

He watches Price and the man with his face cut through the enemy. Watches them attempt to disarm the bomb.

Watches Marakov approach.

Their bodies jerk in succession as Makarov's bullets rip through them both. They hit the ground, and sympathetic pain throbs through Soap's shoulder. 

He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. Not his wound. Not him. Just a man with his face bleeding onto dirty concrete on the other side of a black and white screen.

Makarov goes after Price. The man with Soap's face rises up to stab Makarov and–

Makarov blows a hole through the man's head.

It's surreal to watch his own face go blank. To watch the life drain from wide eyes within seconds. To see the others barely pause. Only standing beside the body for a few moments before continuing on because they have a fucking job to do. No time to pause and mourn the perpetual FNG.

Except for Ghost.

Soap's vision darkens on his right side, and he blinks away the sweat or blood – could be either or both but he's too numb to care – as Ghost falls to his knees beside the body of the man with Soap's face. The CCTV cameras are too shitty to see his eyes as he gazes down at the body leaking blood across the floor, but Soap hopes.

Hopes there's real emotion there. Hopes even more that Ghost finally sees it – finally sees that the dead man whose chest he's so tenderly pressing with his hand isn't his *Johnny.*

This time the watery blur appears in both eyes, and he doesn't bother to blink it away. Because he's seen all this before, and it never changes.

The door behind him opens, but he keeps his focus on the screen. He watches his former teammates leave the body behind in their desperation to follow Makarov.

But they won't find him. Soap knows because he recognizes the footsteps behind him as easily as he once recognized Ghost's.

Ghost, who made his gait purposefully distinct to alert Soap to his presence before slipping into Soap's bed late at night and who murmured soft words in his ear, words no one would ever believe the hardened man would say out loud. But he did. He said them to Soap as he took him apart piece by piece like he would a favorite gun, slow and deliberate, before putting him back together with love and care.

A hand slides into his long, filthy hair. Soap braces for the pain, and Makarov doesn't disappoint as he yanks Soap's head back.

"Enjoying the show?"

Soap doesn't respond. He never does, though it enrages Makarov.

On the screen, soldiers fill the tunnel, taking up the space won back by the 141. They set up a perimeter around the bomb.

The dead man remains sprawled on the ground, lifeless and forgotten.

"Look how they just left you behind. Left you to be picked up and brought here to wallow in misery."

A surge of anger burns through him—

But.

No. That's not right. Soap was never in that tunnel.

He's been in this cold, dark room since the mission in Siberia, taken down by a bullet and dragged away before he could radio for help. He has no idea how long he's been here, but he's endured every kind of torture: electrocution, waterboarding, frostbite, knives, pliers, hot pokers, and more. His body is a canvas of scars and burns

Through it all, he held on to his faith with ragged, broken fingers, with bloody teeth sunk into the promise of hope, that his team would find him. That *Ghost* would find him, rescue him from this hell, and wreak havoc on their enemies.

Until Makarov showed him why no one had come for him. Why no one will ever come for him.

A knife flashes in front of his eyes, fluorescent light reflecting off silver. Soap's voice grates through the air like steel against steel.

"Who was he?"

Makarov lets go of his hair, leaving behind a dull throb of residual pain, and rounds the chair Soap is tied to, hands on his hips and a sadistic glint in his eye.

"Him? Oh, just someone who got confused about his role in this lovely little play. Perhaps the serum was a bit too effective at turning him into you, disgusting loyalty and all, hmmm?"

Serum.

Memories resurface slowly. He's had this conversation with Makarov before. A sliver of panic bleeds into his numbness.

Christ have mercy. He's fucking losing it. How long before he stops remembering? How long before he becomes a shell of himself?

Maybe it doesn't matter. After all, no one is coming for him.

When Soap doesn't say anything more, Makarov's glee sours into a frown. The blade flashes in front of his blurred vision once more before pressing against his neck.

"I admit I thought you would be easier to break. You seemed so obedient in Verdansk. You could've ended me, but instead you followed orders like a good little soldier. And here you are."

The knife digs in, but pain is a familiar friend he's learned to ignore. When Soap doesn't react, Makarov sighs.

"I suppose if you won't break on your own, it's time to get experimental."

He brings out a syringe and holds it up as if considering his next action. The liquid inside glows a sickly yellow green, and Soap's stomach churns at the thought of what new pain this torture it might bring. Because he knows Makarov's pause is just for show. There is no escape.

The gleeful grin returns as he jabs the needle into Soap's neck in the same spot he'd just cut him open. The liquid is brutally cold as it enters his blood stream, his muscles seizing from the rapid temperature change.

WIthin seconds, Soap's world tilts sideways. His eyes blur yet again. He blinks and blinks, but the room goes softer with every passing second. His muscles relax, and he slumps forward in his chair, the bonds securing his wrists behind him cutting into his skin, though he can't feel it anymore.

Makarov sounds like he's underwater when he speaks. "Good. Let us begin."

Blackness takes him.

---

When Soap wakes, he's no longer in a dark, cold room. Through the broken out window of his full helmet, he sees strange buildings rising up into a swath of blue sky. Giddiness that borders on panic wells up in his chest.

He's outside. He made it outside. Did he escape? He doesn't remember.

His gaze falls, and the world stops.

He's surrounded by rivers of blood, knife in hand. His heart pounds like he's dying.

And on the ground lies a Ghost, splayed out like a sacrifice, bloodied and beaten and looking up at Soap like he's seen God.

"Johnny?"

Part 2 >>

Welp. I got some reading to catch up on 👀

Collection of 09 SoapGhost fics

SFW:

I Will Follow by m1ckstart

Burdens Of Command by m1ckstart

Sleep by Asasin

When I Die by InterGalacticKnight

A Toast To Life And Death by InterGalacticKnight

What Remains by m1ckstart *note: mentions of hooking up, but no explicit scenes

rather waste my time with you by s0fter-sin

Winter fall by callofdudes (part 2)

Around my bed, America by Kabbal (Aledane)

And If I Let Myself Go, I'm the Only One to Blame by softer_sin *note: mentions of hooking up, but no explicit scenes

5 times Riley ended up in Mactavish's lap for purely "tactical" reasons and the 1 time it wasn't by SpotlessSpectre *note: not complete

yours to keep by anonymous

Unnecessary by FiddleOfGold

Moments by FiddleOfGold

Demons by MilkSergeant

NSFW with Trans Ghost:

Reverence by SharkNoises

Sunshine enough to spread by MGCraig

You’ve got a pretty kind of dirty face by qwentinsmith

hunger by bravo07

Soft lips are open, them knuckles are pale by bbgrlsimonriley

Fantastic Phantom Feelings by ErlKönig (Herm_own_ninny)

patience is a shitty virtue when it's me getting fucked by you by ErlKönig (Herm_own_ninny)

Oh Captain, My Captain by ErlKönig (Herm_own_ninny)

hush by puppyghost (whinypuppy) *note: this one is 22 but I read it as 09 caus beggars can’t be choosers

when i think about you i touch myself by sghostriley

Bloody Hell by garbage_cannot

sweet love of mine by gh0stspace

Poison burn by Mossbeast

NSFW:

Stutter by m1ckstart

Venus Flytrap by 6sundragons

Don’t Interfere With a Mans Work by InterGalacticKnight

Yes Sir by InterGalacticKnight

A night in the Afghanistan desert by Hetsez

Morning Pleasures by Asasin

we could do this all night by Torierra

Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo by x_posed_again

gimme just a little bit (more) by applepieces

Hands That Are Softer Than Voices by ultrakombo

In Your Absence by badlifechoices *note: not complete, no explicit content yet

Fed by His God by Azilver

clockwork by NarcissosByThePool

Sounds Almost Romantic by haggywags

2024 kinktober (bootworship) by sghostriley

Playing With Fire by CedarDove

I will update this post whenever I find more <3