SongoDiVolare
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Summary
“Simon?”
Simon slides a book into place before turning around. The man in front of him is lean, worn thin, with bags like dusky thumbprints beneath his eyes. He’s swallowed by the massive black hoodie he’s wearing, his hands wedged deep into his pockets and his shoulders hunched.
For reasons he cannot begin to understand, Simon wants to crush this man into a tiny ball and then shove him into the mouth that gapes, screaming, around his own starved heart.
He doesn’t do that, obviously. He’s on the clock.
Or: Ghost loses his memories and falls in love with his husband, again.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 31,104
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Comments:
- 221
- Kudos:
- 2,314
- Bookmarks:
- 606
- Hits:
- 18,823
Bookmarked by SongoDiVolare
04 Nov 2025
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Ghost invites Soap to his Manchester flat while they’re both on leave.
Bookmarked by SongoDiVolare
26 Oct 2025
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The coarse command came halfway through their trip. Soap guessed. No fucking telling, Ghost wouldn’t answer him when he asked where they were headed. Ghost didn't say much of anything until they were well past the outskirts of the town.
or what happens in the truck on the way out of Las Almas.
Bookmarked by SongoDiVolare
25 Oct 2025
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John closes the door behind him, watching while Ghost does an awkward pace, then thumps onto the bed. It’s patently some attempt to appear collected, rather than crawling out of his skin with some emotion that John can’t quite identify but can certainly see. He can see, as well, Ghost still won’t look at him, as if staring over his head is any sort of subtle.
Ghost offers a low grunt. “What.”
John takes a harsh breath, leaning over the bed to forcibly catch Ghost’s eyes where they’re fixed at the ceiling. “I should be asking you that?”
Ghost peeks in any direction he can to avoid John’s face.
Bookmarked by SongoDiVolare
25 Sep 2025
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"Close now. Remember the rules?" Ghost talks loud to be heard, but his voice rumbles low and deeper through him than the engines and their repetitive noise, an edge there that Soap can’t put his finger on, reminiscent of how he sounds when Price tightens their leash.
"There are no rules," he echoes their earlier conversation, but relents as Ghost narrows his eyes. "Forty-eight hours. I'm late, I fail. I'm caught, I fail. I die to some random animal attack or 'cause I break my ankle, I fail and ye won't come find me. That about it?"
Soap has some things to work out. Ghost is happy to help.
Neither is prepared for just how far they'll go.Bookmarked by SongoDiVolare
25 Sep 2025