JustSharkinAround
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Simon “Ghost” Riley, recently put on leave due to hand tremors, takes a job as the personal bodyguard for rising star John “Soap” MacTavish. He thinks it’ll be simple watch the client, keep him safe, get paid. But John is nothing like Simon expected, and the more time they spend together, the harder it is to keep things professional.
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- English
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Bookmarked by JustSharkinAround
16 Sep 2025
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Another mission gone to hell, the team split in half and then split again, Johnny does his best to keep it together.
Does his best in the aftermath, too, for what it's worth (and it's worth a lot).
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One moment they’d been fine, tight unit manoeuvring with ease through enemy territory, clearing buildings and neutralising threats. The next? Soap rubbed the back of his hand across his face, smearing sweat and dirt. He was filthy, covered in fluids not all his own. A hazard of the job. At least the helmet kept the worst of the building debris out of his hair.
He supposed it didn't matter really, it was a hopeless, rhetorical question. He knew exactly what had gone down, and hated every fucking minute of it.
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- English
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- 6/6
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Bookmarked by JustSharkinAround
10 Sep 2025
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“I’m okay,” Ghost had murmured, a skeletal gloved hand coming out to cradle his jaw, thumb swiping away the blood, the sinew, the remainder of the carnage that Soap had caused in his desperation to get to Simon.
And despite the fact that Simon nearly died, the man had leaned forward, pulling John beneath his chin, the skull mask digging against his temple. But John didn’t care, the pain reminded him that this was real. That Simon was alive, that he was breathing.
And the man said nothing when John lifted a hand, when he pulled at the edge of the balaclava, slipping beneath the fabric, hand splayed flat against the column of Simon's throat, crying out when he felt his pulse, strong and steady beneath his fingertips.
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- English
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Bookmarked by JustSharkinAround
09 Sep 2025
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John MacTavish is dead.
And Simon Riley doesn't remember how to live without him.Discharged from the military, he takes a bottle of whiskey, a gun, and a photo of his lover to the edge of the gray Scottish sea.
But the sea does not take him. Instead, he is met by a seal, with dark knowing eyes. And everything Simon thought he understood begins to unravel.
Somewhere between mourning and myth, his lover awaits.
Bookmarked by JustSharkinAround
02 Sep 2025
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John “Soap” MacTavish is frozen under the weight of a singular glowing golden eye. Its vertical pupil dilates and contracts and Soap swears he can feel the physical weight of a touch skimming over his body as it trails up and down him, assessing. The touch feels as if a singular sharp claw is being dragged over his skin, holding him in place with the silent threat of evisceration should he so much as breathe.
So he doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t move, he can’t even bring himself to look away from that eye as he’s studied; as his fate is decided by the sleek, inky black creature standing just a few feet in front of him.
Soap’s skin feels as if it’s burning under the weight of that stare, but he’s finally able to take a breath in. He lets it out through his nose slowly, quietly, and is careful not to move as he tries to convince his body he isn’t in danger.
But he isn’t convinced. . . isn’t even close, and as he’s able to finally tear his gaze away from the one eye that he can see, he becomes almost sure that he is in danger.
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Bookmarked by JustSharkinAround
27 Jul 2025