#i never recovered from what is mw3 :')

[yumethefrostypanda]

Simon "shoulderss" Riley

[chaos-vulpix]

"1121" by Halsey is so Ghostsoap-coded in all its angsty glory. Like, "Bells in Santa Fe" & "Ya'aburnee" also give the vibe for these two as well, but "1121" really hits that desperation, that devotion, that despair.

The lyrics just scream of Ghost's love for Soap; how the Brit has never felt such feelings so strongly for anyone before until he fell for the Scot; how the Lieutenant is unwilling to accept the idea of ever losing his Sergeant; how Simon is willing to give Johnny his heart, the most fragile part of his very being, and how he'd break it himself to show how much he loves him.

The fact that song title is the numerical date for November 21st, and the final mission of MWIII, "Trojan Horse", takes place on November 21st is just sheer coincidence...

MWIII SPOILERS UNDER BREAK IF YOU STILL DON'T KNOW YET. NO SHAME IN THAT, BUT I DO ENVY YOU GUYS FOR NOT KNOWING

...and don't get me started on the lyric "Took one in the temple", because guess what happened to Soap!

"1121" may be about Halsey's love for her child, her surprise of being pregnant, and her fear of another miscarriage following many others. But for Ghost, it's his love for Soap ensnaring his very soul, fearing the inevitable day he'd lose him... and the despair of experiencing it on November 21st, his broken pieces barely held together by the rest of 141, a burning hatred growing within, compeling him to hunt down Makarov, even if it kills him & potentially sends Ghost to wherever Soap went next if he's lucky, or if Simon wonders if he even deserves to after everything he's done in his life...

...or, if you're more inclined to tell Activision to go fuck themselves, it could be Ghost holding a silent vigil in a dark hospital room, accompanied by the beeping sounds of medical machinery keeping his Scottish spitfire of a soulmate alive, his body battered & bruised, his sunshine dimmed, but still alive if barely by a sheer miracle, praying for the day his Sergeant wakes up sooner than theorized before he loses his mind...

...or maybe it's Simon, in the early morning hours, tracing his fingers across the scar on Johnny's head as they lay in the Lieutenant's bed. Simon, how needs the light breathes against his chest to remind him that Johnny still lives, that what happened in that tunnel was a nightmare they both woke up from. Simon, who reevaluates just how deeply in love he is, that he's even deeper than he thought, that he may have deeper to go still. Simon, who watches Johnny open his eyes slowly once more, another reminder of life still clinging to the Scot's flesh & bones, greeting him with his Scottish accent that he wants to hear forevermore until a more dignified end claims them both. Simon, who will soon get up after Johnny convinces him to stay in bed for longer, who gets dressed in his iconic dark garb & skull mask, who helps the rest of the 141 hunt down Makarov so he can put a bullet in the man's head for even thinking about killing his boyfriend. Simon, who returns to the same bed once the moon is high, finding bliss within two warm arms & a sun-tinged voice that reminds him of everything he's worth & more.

[yuniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie]

Safe

c.w : mentions of reader being in a shelter, gaz taking in reader, plot does not follow mw2/mw3 entirely, no uses of y/n. Only (Name) or petnames + ‘You’. Mentions of loss (parents death) + bad staff at shelter.

NOT EVERYTHING IN THIS FIC IS ACCURATE)) hcs

Gn! Preteen! Reader + Gaz

(Some facts in this au/ fic arent canon! If i made any mistakes like /gaz’ age/ do tell me.)▪️▪️

sumry. : pre teen! reader is taken in by gaz after he gets back from a mission he finds reader in a shelter. After being taken back home with gaz, gaz’s family didn’t seem to get along with you.

- The loss of your parents caused you to be sent into a shelter.

- You barely ever felt safe in there, the nightmare and flashing images of your last moments with your parents haunted you every night.

- You woke up screaming, every night you felt drenched in sweat. You weren’t able to go to bed without having flashbacks. - To this day you still remembered how the house burned down.

- And took your parents down with it. Left no trace of them. No one can blame you, you were only a child. By the time you figured out how to call the fire fighters it was already too late.

- Feeling frozen in place as you watched them announce. Your parents were gone. It happened so long ago. You barely had time with them,

- The only memory you ever had of your parents was a notebook you’d had been given by them. It had their signature inside along with pictures. There was a memory book you recovered. But it wasnt good quality.

- Your parents were around for long. By their time not all cameras were the best. - Taken into the shelter at a young age you never had anyone. The staff treated you like crap. The children your age there, for so many years

- Everyone got taken in or adopted. You weren’t. You got sick of it. Constantly kids shoved you around, constantly, staff barely fed you.

- But one thing that was even worse, this shelter was near a field. The field was stuck around for a very long time.

- It used to belong to farmers. It was a very open one but now it was used for military. It was used as a spot for training or anything really.

- One man in particular saw you.

The shelter had a routine for everyday. One weekends, at sometimes thursday night. Children would be allowed to do activities out. You never really participated. You were closed off and reserved. Everyone there was just not overall good people. You were rather watching the soldiers train, you always noticed one man though. He seemed to have seen you from afar.

- Gaz. You knew him as. Gaz, but you always called him the big man. Since he was tall,

- One time running around outside the shelter’s playground. You had felt a shove when you scraped a little bit of your knee. He was the one who reported to the staff if they can check in on you

- So far to run off mid way through training a few times to immediately make his way towards you. He somehow saw himself in you. Quiet, reserved.

- His own captain always told him he was quiet. But you were so sad all the time it broke his heart.

- He was a soft man at heart but really had to be tough, when he got to know you. He had seemed to come across a store one day while on a mission nearby. Or had it seemed they took a stop.

- He’d asked to step in since he quickly payed, he bought a treat.

- When he came to the shelter he took a knee and cooed for you to take it. You thanked him but he suddenly just hugged you. He was tearing up.

- He hated seeing how fearful and unsafe you seemed. How you werent given treats.

- So many things were happening. He got to know you day by day. If they were on a break he always came to see you. Because he wouldn’t forget how you even got him something back. It was a drawing. Of the field.

- He still had it in his breast pocket,

- But really, he had enough of seeing this

What had you done to deserve this. One time he had stepped into the office, when he talked with the staff about you. He got to know about the shelter and what it was like, he saw your file. How could a innocent kid

Be mistreated?

- He took you in one day. He had introduced you to his own home where he lived. But his father really made this a problem, his father constantly asked Gaz if he was same for bringing you in here.

- You got to know Gaz though. You were kept in his room, he told you could sleep in his bed, he didn’t mind sleeping on the floor since he was in harsher conditions anyways.

He’d been used to it.

- But he finally figured what troubled you.

- ‘Why didn’t you tell me, (Name)?’

- The nightmares. When you woke up crying he was almost instantly there. Crushing you in a hug he didn’t realize how hard he held you.

- ‘Are you okay, kid?’ He’d brush your hair away. Wiping any stray tears.

- His hand ran up your shoulder. Patting it a little before he pulled you to rest on him. You were like a scared animal.

- He held you so tight. He felt your tears wet his t shirt. You hit him out of panic but he only took the blows,

- Since that night he’d tried his best to help you relax. He told you what to do if he was gone while you had these nightmares.

- Alot of times he had to keep you only in his room since his father didnt like you. Nor did his brothers do. But he only told them to f off since you were almost his kid now and they’d need to accept it.

- When you were sick back at the shelter you were often just given those pills and told to take them. Then you were just stuck inside all day. No one was present to take care of you. But Gaz made you safe.

- You were having a really bad fever but you saw how quickly Gaz caught onto it. He places you in the tub after he filled it with water. He gave you your privacy. But he was outside the bathroom if you needed him.

- ‘Im here if you need me, kiddo’

- He sometimes had to rush to the pharmacy for medicine. But you couldn’t let go and your hands flew up to his arm one time he actually stumbled back next to you when you did.

- So he had to take you with him. No one can ask who the kid coming with him was. You were a secret though. He didnt tell anyone about you at base. He kept his child safe.

- It didnt make so much sense to anyone how he adopted you. But it was simple for him. He knew you long enough.

- But really it felt fast. A month, and he took you in. You only saw him those days bringing you treats or coming to talk to you sometimes. Even if it wasnt talk. It became a normal thing he’d nod at you from afar as hello.

- You got along. You did grow attached to him, he officialy did sign adoption papers. Legally and finally now. His child.

[revnah1406]

ONE LAST DRINK, BROTHER...

⚠️CALL OF DUTY MW3 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!! ⚠️

I was so sad about Soap's death. And I wanted to write a small fic about how Sparrow would handle it. 🥺

Words: 1.546

Let's add a little more drama with this song😭

Sparrow's hands were still shaking. The fresh scars burned inside her, still hurting when she moved. They were deep, too deep.

She still had flashes, every time she closed her eyes she still had the vision of the mountain falling on top of her. Her brother's screams, the rocks, the sharp ice, the lack of oxygen, the blood. K2 was a shark that hunted her every night with nightmares and memories of the accident. When was the last time she was able to sleep? Maybe ten months ago, when she was in a fucking coma for weeks.

She believed she was ready to return, she had recovered from her injuries, she could walk, she had exercised. She was strong again. She thought she could go back to 141 and go back to what she was before. Oh birdie... how wrong you were...

Now there is a before and after. There always is. The Sparrow from before the accident on K2 is not the same as now. You don't think you're immortal anymore, do you? You have played arm wrestling with death and you have lost, only death has let you win, it wants to play with you a little more.

Hannah was brought out of her thoughts when the sound of a bottle being placed on the table was heard over that lonely dining hall at 3 in the morning.

She raised her head. Smiling but sleepy blue eyes looked at her.

"Being a bad lass and staying up late, birdie?"

Sparrow forced a smile.

"If it was up to me I would sleep for days but..."

Soap also placed two glasses on the table and sat next to her.

"But K2 doesn't let you sleep." Soap finished the sentence. Always with a small smile, it wasn't evil, nor was it trying to make fun of Sparrow. He did it so Sparrow would smile back at him.

And Sparrow did it. She returned the smile.

"Yeah... I never thought a bloody mountain could chase me that far. It doesn't even have fucking legs."

Soap chuckled.

"Well, Dr. Soap has come here to help you." He placed the bottle in front of Sparrow.

"Scotch?" Sparrow raised an eyebrow. "You think getting drunk will cure my trauma? Have you heard of therapy, Johnny?"

"Yeah, but this is cheaper." John winked at her as he opened the bottle. "And we all go to therapy and it doesn't help one bit."

He managed to get a laugh out of Hannah.

"You're just using me as an excuse to drink inside the base." Sparrow rolled her eyes but the smile didn't go away, even her hands stopped shaking.

"Hey, the boss does it all the time in his office and no one tells him anything. Even Ghost drinks with him from time to time." Soap poured the amber liquid into both glasses. "Besides, you're not going to deny your brother from another mother a drink, are you?"

Sparrow chuckled and shook her head.

"Every time I say no, you chase me like a fucking hawk."

"Because I have good eyesight! I know when you need a drink. And you always end up giving in."

He pushed one glass toward Hannah and raised the other.

"What do you want to toast?" Soap asked.

"Do you want to toast?" Sparrow raised her eyebrows.

"It's very sad to drink without toasting. Come on Sparrow, I know you'll think of something."

Sparrow thought for a moment and then raised the glass. She looked her friend in the eyes and smiled.

"For fucking K2 who couldn't kill me. And for our deaths to be the most unforgettable of all!"

"And may the Valkyries call our name when the time comes!"

They both clinked their glasses and downed the Scotch in one gulp. Sparrow scrunched up her face as the alcohol burned her throat, but the scars hurt less now.

"And?"

"What?" Sparrow looked at him, confused

"Do you still believe that Irish Whiskey is better than Scotch?" Soap raised his eyebrows.

Sparrow chuckled.

"I think I have to drink a little more to make up my mind." Sparrow poured herself and Soap some more.

John laughed.

"This Scotch is not just any Scotch, my friend."

They both toasted again and drank. There was a comfortable, calm silence.

"So you finally took the title." Soap spoke again after a while of drinking in silence.

"Title? What title?" Sparrow asked strangely.

"From the ugliest person in 141." Soap laughed.

Sparrow laughed too and stroked the scars on her face.

"Are you saying that because now my scars are bigger than yours?"

"Partly yes. But you know I'm bloody handsome."

Sparrow rolled her eyes.

"Whatever you say Mr. Humble."

Soap laughed again.

"Hey, do they hurt? The scars."

"Well, yes... it's something I'll have to learn to live with..." Sparrow stared into the glass.

"We learn to live with many things. And some we have to let go. As you often say, we have to cut the rope." Soap patted Sparrow's shoulder.

"Yes... cut the rope..."

________________

The wind chilled her hands. She didn't care, nothing could matter anymore. The clouds roared, spitting thunder, threatening a storm. But nothing mattered to her.

The grass was stirred and the waves crashed aggressively against the cliff. Scotland was crying. Just like her, although she had no tears left to cry.

Sparrow was sitting on a rock watching the angry sea. She was angry too. It had taken her months to return since his ashes were thrown away. She wasn't able to go back. But she had to do it.

She sighed and looked back. Amara, her girlfriend, was there waiting for her. Hannah had asked her for a moment alone with her friend, with her brother from another mother as he used to say. Amara hugged Hannah's coat, she was very cold. It broke her heart to see Hannah like this, so broken, so... Amara still remembered the day Hannah came home, how happy she was to see her girlfriend return home after so long, and how the world had changed when she fell to the ground. When Hannah dropped to her knees and started crying and screaming just a second after getting off her bike. Amara never really liked soldiers, 141 especially, but Soap was the exception. And she cried too.

Hannah was no longer the same. Amara knew it. As always, there is a before and after. For everything.

Amara smiled sadly waiting for Hannah to smile back but she never did. Instead, she turned her gaze to the sea.

She sighed and opened the backpack she had between her boots. She took out a Scotch and two glasses. The same old bottle from that night. She never touched it, she always said she would drink it at the right moment. Well, that moment has arrived, little bird. So she poured the liquid into the glasses and grabbed one. She didn't drink, she didn't like to drink without toasting. Drinking without toasting is too sad.

She played with the glass trying to think of what to say to him.

"I've tried to cut the rope... All these months I've tried." Sparrow's lower lip trembled. "But every time I tried to cut it, the knife gets caught in the threads and gets stuck."

She sobbed a little.

"Maybe because it's not time to cut it yet." She looked up at the waves again.

The wind froze her face.

"I'm going to find that son of a bitch, Johnny... And I'm going to make him pay for what he did." She nodded slightly a few times. "And after that, I'll be done, sarge. 141 won't need me anymore, and I won't need them either."

She took a breath and let it out shakily. The tears had already come, rolling down her cheeks and freezing halfway. The cold didn't matter to her, nothing mattered to her anymore.

"Rest for now. Just wait for me..." she looked at the glass. "C’mon. One last drink, brother."

She sighed again and raised the glass to toast.

"May the Valkyries welcome you and lead you though Odin's great battlefield. May they sing your name with love and fury. John "Soap" MacTavish. So that we might hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla and know that you've taken your rightful place at the table of kings, for a great man has fallen. A warrior. A sergeant. A friend. A brother." 

She clicked her glass with the one resting on the rock and drank the scotch in one gulp. As always, she scrunched up her face as she felt the alcohol burn her throat.

She put the glass next to the other and stood up. She looked at the sea a little longer when the sound of a hawk made her look away. She looked up, the bird was circling around her. Sparrow smiled, whistled, and the hawk responded.

"You're a little far from home my friend. Although maybe you found a new one here..." she looked at the horizon again "There's always a before and after."

Se grabbed the backpack and left with Amara. Leaving both glasses and the bottle there. Knowing that the rest of the 141 would return to have one last drink with him.

[xxavengingangelxx]

Somewhere Only We Know (Long Way From Home Series Part 2) sneak peek

Here is a very, very like VERY brief sneak peek. Just remember Val's trials and tribulations aren't over. Stockholm Syndrome and other types of trauma bonding are not love. They're just that: a trauma bond. Trauma rewires the brain so no, some victims are never okay and are not immediately happy when/if separated from their captor. I'd be happy to answer more questions about it (I see a lot in my work :( )

141 notices there's something...particular about Shadow Company's only female operator. @josieguts because they asked to be tagged :)

This is a sequel to my work, Long Way From Home in which Graves captures 141's translator and takes her as his prisoner in a desperate somewhat well-planned idea to keep tabs on 141 after his betrayal. She puts up much more of a fight than he expected.

Read here!

Triggers for Long Way From Home are many. It's a dark fic, so I will post triggers here JIC. MDNI, 18+ TRIGGERS: Implied/attempted suicide, self-harm, torture, brainwashing, physical abuse, mind fuckery, Stockholm syndrome-related mental gymnastics, trauma bonding, mentions of foster care, threatened/implied/referenced rape, EXTREMELY dubious consent, flashbacks of torture, female being drugged. Self-hate in this one :( If I miss, any let me know, please! DARK FIC! Kinda Dead Dove.

Now, Somewhere Only We Know has less of these triggers but still will have some of them. Disclaimer: I don't know what will happen in MW3 but I have the storyline of this new fic more or less figured out. I'm guessing there's a ceasefire between 141 and Shadow Co. due to Konni being the bigger threat.

-

SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW:

“She’s ours, Graves, like she’s always been,” “No, you abandoned her!” Graves roared.

-

You were in a hospital room when you saw Price walking in with a phone held to his ear. He was angry. His body language screamed his emotions. He was on the phone…

With Graves.

Graves’s voice on the other side of the phone was mad…from what you could hear. You didn’t hear the whole conversation but some of it involved you. You heard a few phrases from Graves, all with a more pronounced Southern accent. His accent got more pronounced when he was emotional whether he be feeling angry or sadistic. Where the hell is she? You had no right. She’s my prisoner. You planned this shit and separated us on purpose.

Price put the call on speaker.

“You tell ‘im that you’re safe and that you’re done with ‘im,”

“Val?” Graves’s voice his voice saying your name.

You reached for the phone.

“Nah’uh,” Price pulled the phone away. “Tell him,” Price demanded. “That’s an order.”

You looked at the phone.

And then at Price.

And then at the phone.

“Val,” Graves’s voice told you he was uptight, upset, and on the verge of throwing the phone in his hand through the fucking wall.

When it was clear you weren’t going to tell Graves what Price had ordered.

“She’s ours, Graves, like she’s always been,”

“No, you abandoned her!” Graves roared.

You asked to talk to Graves and were denied. “No,” Price said firmly.

You briefly heard Graves say something about Shepherd.

Price hung up.

-

Now don't judge our 141 boys too roughly. Pretty sure they've never recovered a female soldier from a prisoner situation. :( They're doing the best they know.

[mykelneedssleep]

MW3 Spoilers!

When Soap dies Ghost lifts the dog tags from his body with more care than he's taken to do anything. They're looped around his neck beside his own. There's no need for them to stay with Johnny's body, there are people to identify him. The people who love him are the ones to file the paperwork. Lieutenant Simon Riley is supposed to sign the death certificate. He never does.

The metal of Soap's feels unnaturally colder than his own, the weight heavier. His body knows he wears two pairs. His mind knows the addition of the second ripped something crucial from his already fractured soul.

When Ghost dies he does so alone. His team isn't there to collect his remains, they aren't there to give him a small but never the less sad funeral, they aren't even there to file the paperwork. They didn't abandon him, he ran away. It's not that they don't love him, it's that they knew he needed the space.

When the men come to collect his body, to record the death, to make him just another number sacrificed in the endless war for peace they find two identities wrapped around his neck. Names pressed to his chest like the locket of a lover.

RILEY SIMON, J. 2073357 O POS ATHEIST MACTAVISH JOHN, J. 2073521 O NEG CATHOLIC

They thought there must have been some sort of mistake, a mix-up in the paperwork somewhere because there was an unknown soldier in the field wearing the identities of two men who had died years ago. Simon Riley, from what they could find went MIA after his team was betrayed well over a decade ago and was declared KIA years later when they couldn't recover him. John MacTavish's tag was newer, shinier than the other, but supposedly he'd been shot years ago. That's what they could find anyway.

No one could account for the body rotting away in the morgue unidentified and unnamed. No one knew him apparently, not even the team he was with.

Laswell finds out a month later, she'd been keeping silent tabs on him until he disappeared. She calls Price as soon as she knows, holding back tears the same way she did with Soap. "He has a grave," she says quietly. They visit with Gaz the day after.

Price laughs when he sees the gravestone. Then he cries.

The other two join him.

They stare at the engraving. Something that should have could have been real if only things had worked out differently. If they'd been a little faster, prepared a little bit more, if Price had let Soap pull that trigger all those years ago. But even though it didn't everything still led to this moment, the three of them at this grave the same way they would've been if things had changed back then. The hilarity of it was heartbreaking.

They'd combined them for the records. Created an identity for a soldier that never existed to mark the resting place of one who died carrying two dead men with him.

In death, Ghost is content, for the first time ever, with the identity his name provides him with.

Simon J. MacTavish Soldier, Lover

Price is the last to leave. He does so with a smile and another glace at the stone, "congrats boys," he says to no one in particular, "wish I could've been there to see it."