#ghostsoapreader

Ghost enters the game for good. And you— you’ve just been weighed. Measured. And found trespassing on territory you were never meant to touch.

📖 Read Chapter 7 on AO3

Excerpt:

You shift backwards, an unconscious slight movement, and he is moving in. Taking that opening for himself. Stalking closer. Bit by bit your rigid posture erodes. A step back, then two, you can’t help it. The tall shadow owns the space you fled. Falls over you. Finally, you hold, force yourself still. Do not retract further. Do not. It feels like playing dead in a lion’s den. You force yourself to look. Look right past his face – past where you’d search fruitlessly for some kindling of emotions. There isn’t one.

You can only outlast him. Freeze up and endure. Inhale. Exhale. That whole ordeal, till it’s over.

This isn’t Sergeant Poster Boy Johnny MacTavish—flawed, impulsive, easy to tilt off-balance. You played your game in the noise he made. Broke him slow. Quiet.

But this— This is what stands behind him when the noise stops. The silence that gives shape to the drums. That holds the rhythm, sets the pace—decides when the song ends. The stillness that waits behind all sound. The kind that settles over the living, sooner or later.

Chapter 6 is live: No Escape

Blue Falcon (COD Fanfiction GhostxSoapxF!reader)

Back on base, everything tightens. The armory. The routine. Ghost’s gaze. And Soap—he’s starting to notice.

>>> Read Chapter 6 on AO3

Before Chapter 6 dropped: → 1,359 hits → 85 kudos → 40 bookmarks → 37 subscriptions

You stayed. You watched. You reached out.

Thank you.

A two-week update rhythm is now set. The boys are here to stay. Ghost is watching. Soap is unraveling. And you? You're in too deep to stop now. Right??

You sabotaged him quietly. You hid perfectly. Until now. Soap knows—and he’s coming for you.

Chapter: STRIKE

“Oh shit, guys- better shut up, real quick, our little Corp looks like she’s plotting your murder.”

Your jaw clenches tighter, till you feel your teeth’s edges biting into another. Forty meters.

“No, bro, she figuring out how to sabotage your gun and make you look like a dumbshit in front of your squad.”

“What,” A deep voice growls. “Did ye just say?”  MacTavish.

Your eyes meet. And for one impossible second, he’s still.

Eerily still.

The tension doesn't build—it drops, hard and heavy, like something snapping tight inside him.

He doesn’t blink.

Doesn’t speak.

Just stares. And that stare—that look—isn’t confusion or amusement anymore.

And in a voice that shouldn’t sound so calm, not from him, not now, he says—

“You.”

Uh-oh.

The 141 is gone, but danger isn’t. The silence only gives the others more room to watch, whisper, close in. You keep your head down, cling to routine—but the base feels smaller now, tighter. Like it’s closing in. And you’re not sure who’s worse: the ones who left… or the ones still here.

Reader-insert. Psychological warfare. Military trauma. Dubious consent. Ghost watches. Soap unravels.

Chapter 8: Read now on AO3

Updated every second Sunday.

UPCOMING SCENE, fanart for my fanfic readerxsoapxghost They are in Soaps and Sgt. Garrick room. Soap is shirtless, Trousers undone. He looks really buff and all and the reader is properly intimated and fucking flushed. Soap is already hard, his shaft poking out of his boxers - flush and leaking onto his clenching stomach muscles.

Ghost: Go sit in him.

You: Sir -

Ghost: Do as I say or i am going to let you undress first, Corporal. Seargeant is gonna learn how to take care of his weapons properly, is that right?

Soap: Yes sir +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

scene from the upcoming chapter of Blue Falcon

🔗 Read the full fic on AO3

COD-Fanfic #BlueFalcon #ghostsoapreader

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Guys, I am trying- though, as you can see (T.T) I didn't get Soap's face right... and let's not (yet) talk about his expression. I migh discard this alltogehter, but wanted to share it nonetheless. Really, this feels like multilating the words I have saved for a later smut-heavy chapter in my fanfiction.

Chapter 5 is live: “Hunted by the Wolf”

Ghost hasn’t called you out—yet. The moment he strikes draws closer. So close you can feel the teeth at your back.

Or can you?

Maybe you're imagining it all.

🔗 Read Chapter 5 on AO3 EXCERPT

...

Then he’s moving.  His body merges with the low fog slowly. He walks off into the twilight until he’s finally one with the shade.

"Fucking hell, that was intense." You glance at the Private. Pale. Stiff. Eyes too wide.

You stand there, the shape of his voice still pressed against your skin.

Your own stiff hands press into your jacket pocket, fabric stretching around your hands and the riflescope. The Elcan Specter feels like contraband. No, worse. A marker. A thread in the noose. A single, silent accusation pressing against your ribs. You press your fingers over it, feeling the screws rasp against your skin. The weight of your own sabotage.

The Private exhales, trying to laugh it off.

But you don't.

You just press your hand tighter to your pocket.

To the weight that shouldn’t be there.

You don’t answer him.

You don't need to.

Because you both know—

this wasn’t the end.