Little SoapGhost oneshots

-" Blinding Rage "- 🥀

I GOT THIS FROM @SaturnalisG ON MY TWITTER! (Yippee)
TW: Blood

Ghost PoV:

Johnny. Where in this bloody battlefield is John?! I check the comms again hoping to hear him.

"Soap, this is Ghost, send me a signal. I need to know that you're okay."

Radio silence. Shit! Where is he? Why is he radio silent? Could he be dead?

"Snap out of it Simon he's fine... he's fine-"

I'm interrupted by a bullet flying past my head and without hesitation I slide one of my knives out of its sleeve and hurl it at the enemy.

Head shot, spot on. John. Where is John?! Another knife is slid out of its sleeve and I chuck it at another enemy, the steel glistening in the moonlight and shining as deep crimson splattered onto it.

A sinister, almost inhuman grin crosses my face. Anything that moves is penetrated by a knife with a silver skull imprinted on it's ebony handle. Bodies slump to the ground as I hit vital organs or slice important things like the achilles tendon and sometimes even an artery.

I keep moving, trying to find Johnny. Any motion is seen as a threat as I keep moving, trying to find my Johnny. It's all vain so far, so I go and check my radio again as other knife leaves my hand.

"Soap, come in Soap. This is Ghost, come in."

"Radio's busted, haven't been able to respond."

Wait. That didn't come from my radio. I whip my head around to see John slumped against a wall, slowly inching his way to the floor as deep red leaks through his uniform at his thigh

I rush over and gently set him down, pulling him onto my legs as I crouch next to him. Looking down at him I can see a smile on his face.

"Good to see ya, Simon." He lets out a pained laugh while clutching at his leg, a glint of silver catches my eye and my heart sinks to the depths of hell. I look in horror as reality sets in.

A silver skull emblem with an ebony background sat, taunting me. My blood runs cold and I just freeze, unable to move.

"What's wrong Simon, you get queasy at the sight of blood?" Johnny laughed, but then ceased as soon as he saw why I was mortified.

"Is that... your's?" I can't respond. My throat feels tight and my eyes blur with tears. It feels like my lungs are being squeezed by a vice grip and my hands quiver.

"Johnny... I- I don't-" My hands shakily glide towards the wound not wanting to get closer than three inches.

"Simon, calm down. I'm the one with a knife in my leg." John puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. He's right. I have to own up to this... it's my fault.

He goes to pull out the knife and I quickly stop him, gripping his wrist harder than I'd like to admit. He looks up at me, shocked.

"Don't take the knife out, it's stopping you from bleeding more than you should. Plus, we don't know how deep the wound is, so best to keep it in." Without thinking, I intertwine my fingers with his and speak in a strangely gentle voice.

I see him blush lightly at the hand-holding and I gently help him to his feet, holding most of his weight on me.

"I would carry you the way I'm trained, but that would definitely push the knife deeper, so you'll have to settle for this." I slide one arm around his upper back and my other arm holds his thighs and up he goes, into my arms and against my chest

Soap's head instinctively lays onto my chest and I blush wildly under my mask. He feels so good in my arms... I wonder how else he could feel- damn it Simon, this is not the time! Get your head out of the gutter.

I quickly bridal carry him over to the medical tent, trying not to make my movements too bumpy. Definitely don't want to jostle him around with a knife - my knife - in his thigh.

In the medical tent, I lay him down and let the medic fix him up, my hand never leaving his. I hate watching him be in pain, but... it's all my fault. I put that knife there. I need to get a hold of myself-

"Simon. It's okay. I'm okay."

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I know nobody asked for this, but I was inspired. Have a good day/night!

Your writer, Raven

Word count: 770