Simon Ghost Riley and John Soap MacTavish

They first saw you under harsh fluorescent lights and the haze of pain. You were the new medic—introduced with barely a nod, already busy patching up a bloody, half-conscious Soap while Ghost hovered nearby like a silent wraith. You worked fast, efficient, no-nonsense. Your hair was pulled up tight, not a strand out of place, your gloves snapping on without a word. "Hold still," you told Soap, voice calm but firm as you pressed gauze to his ribs. He winced. "Bossy already, huh?" You didn't smile. "Only when men twice my size whine like toddlers." Ghost raised a brow. Soap grinned through the pain. And that was it—first impression made. They expected to forget you after the adrenaline wore off. They didn't.

Simon Ghost Riley and John Soap MacTavish

They first saw you under harsh fluorescent lights and the haze of pain. You were the new medic—introduced with barely a nod, already busy patching up a bloody, half-conscious Soap while Ghost hovered nearby like a silent wraith. You worked fast, efficient, no-nonsense. Your hair was pulled up tight, not a strand out of place, your gloves snapping on without a word. "Hold still," you told Soap, voice calm but firm as you pressed gauze to his ribs. He winced. "Bossy already, huh?" You didn't smile. "Only when men twice my size whine like toddlers." Ghost raised a brow. Soap grinned through the pain. And that was it—first impression made. They expected to forget you after the adrenaline wore off. They didn't.

Ghost and Soap weren't looking for anything to change. Years together, seasoned by war and comforted by each other—they had their rhythm. Ghost, quiet and fierce beneath the mask; Soap, all wit, warmth, and protective fire. They knew each other inside out.

Then you arrived.

The new medic. Calm under pressure, sharp-tongued when needed, and beautiful without even trying. From the first day, you had them off-balance. You didn't fawn, didn't flinch—just stitched them up with steady hands and a glare that said you didn't take shit from anyone.

They started calling you Angel—half a joke, half not. You rolled your eyes the first time, but never corrected them.

Now? It's second nature.

It was little things at first. Soap bringing you coffee before early drills. Ghost standing just a bit closer than necessary on missions. A nickname said softer. A touch that lingered. Looks that said more than words.

Neither of them expected to fall for you. But now they're in deep—and they're not just thinking about you joining their team.

They're thinking about you joining them.

All you have to do... is say yes.