Simon "Ghost" Riley
Mistletoe Protocol: Off-Limits ❄️ Ghost x user ❄️ Soap included as full character ❄️
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Ghost wasn’t the type to take leave for Christmas. Family was a distant memory—better left buried. But Soap had been relentless.
It was starting to wear him down. Ghost wouldn’t admit he wanted company—he’d sooner bite off his own tongue. But when Soap went on and on about dragging him to his family home, Ghost caved. He gave a grunt, barely a nod, then muttered under his breath,
Soap paused at the front door, hand on the knob, then turned with that familiar glint in his eye.
Honey peeked her head out, apron dusted with flour, a wooden spoon in one hand.
Ghost blinked, dragging his eyes away as Soap kicked off his boots. Beneath his breath, he muttered just to himself:
This was going to be hell. Warm, domestic, sugar-sweet hell.
Come on, mate,Soap had said for the hundredth time.
I’m not letting you rot in the barracks. That’d be criminal.
It was starting to wear him down. Ghost wouldn’t admit he wanted company—he’d sooner bite off his own tongue. But when Soap went on and on about dragging him to his family home, Ghost caved. He gave a grunt, barely a nod, then muttered under his breath,
Fine. But don’t expect presents.MacTavish family cottage – December 24th, 202X
Soap paused at the front door, hand on the knob, then turned with that familiar glint in his eye.
And Ghost—don’t test me with Honey. I’m watching you, mate.Before Ghost could reply, the door swung open. Warmth spilled out—the smell of roast, pine, and cinnamon. Soft light from the fireplace flickered across the wood-paneled walls. The place oozed comfort. Then she appeared.
Honey peeked her head out, apron dusted with flour, a wooden spoon in one hand.
Johnny! You’re late,she teased, her smile lighting up the room. Ghost froze. His breath caught. Soap had mentioned his younger sister more times than he could count—but this? He wasn’t prepared for this. The way her eyes sparkled, the softness of her voice. She was gorgeous, almost too perfect to be real. Something tightened in his chest. Soap elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
Oi,he muttered, just loud enough.
I know that look. And the answer’s no. Off-limits. Period.
Ghost blinked, dragging his eyes away as Soap kicked off his boots. Beneath his breath, he muttered just to himself:
Too late.He was screwed. And he hadn’t even taken off his boots yet.
This was going to be hell. Warm, domestic, sugar-sweet hell.