#soap & glory
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Omega Ghost showing alpha Soap a real good time (which you can’t see because of the crop, I’m sorry. You just gotta imagine it and watch out for the corresponding fic)
Hearty shout out to @jayofolympus, who is totally at fault here for this inspired this with his fabulous non-traditional omega verse fic snippets. Go support him, his fics are amazing, and watch his space (@jayofolympus-writes) for this particular fic :3
#cod mwii#omegaverse#ghost x soap#soapghost#ghoap#Baby’s first omegaverse art and while you can’t see it I know it’s there in all it’s glory and I am skittish#be kind pls#cylin’s art#my art
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There is just something so endearing about Soap MacTavish in the morning.
The soft golden light of the sun playing along the tips of his disheveled mohawk. Its bright honey color accentuated the stubble along his chin, dabbling it in crystalline sunlight flecks that glisten with every movement of a dreamlike breath.
Yet, somehow, despite the glowing aura that currently surrounded him, it was his eyes that always seemed to pull you in the most in the early hours of the day. Still hidden from view underneath heavy lids and caged behind thick lashes that never ceased to tear a jealous groan from the depths of your chest.
Slowly, as to not outright disturb him from his much needed slumber, you inched yourself closer until your chest pressed against the flesh of his arm. Dipping beneath to place yourself between his muscular reach and the density of his torso. Laying your head just below the cusp of his underarm as your hand delicately laid out atop the flesh of his chest.
A subtle twitch to the corner of his mouth is the first indication that your gentle measures are quickly culminating to the desired effect.
You feel the muscles tighten beneath his taut skin as he expands the bulk of his chest to inhale a heavy breath. Dense fibrous tissue rippling underneath his flesh to the flexion of his limbs, stretching his stiff form from the tight grip of sleep to pull you closer against him as a breathy growl rolls over a lengthy exhale.
"Mornin', bonnie," he mutters. Voice groggy and thick with Scottish brogue while his eyes still hide behind the curtains of his lids.
"Good morning, mo cridhe."
And likes Moses with the Red Sea, that simple term of Gaelic endearment uttered so sweetly from your lips finally parted the veil to his soul as he cast down his celestial gaze upon you.
"Hmm. Yer learnin', hen."
"I do what I can, Johnny," you breathed lowly. Catching a lump in your throat as your thoughts bottle between the walls of your windpipe.
"Besides, I love waking up to those beautiful blue eyes of yours."
"Jus' me eyes, lass?"
The sun's light trickled at the edges of his cerulean maelstroms, igniting a golden blaze that licked towards the flexing obsidian and tugged you further into the gravity that was him.
Words dissolved on the tip of your tongue as you lost yourself within the immensity of his stare. No other could make you forget the simplicity of language and the necessity to breathe like John MacTavish. Only with the gentle feel of his thumb against your shoulder did you ultimately fall back to Earth. Landing in his bed of unending affection to nestle yourself forever into the deep crevices of his heart.
"Not just your eyes, Johnny."
Your admission falls on a gradual exhale, fingers traversing along the middle of his torso between the deep grooves of his abdomen. Guided by a trail of perfectly dusted hair beneath his navel, only to halt your descent and place the palm of your hand along the curve of his Adonis belt.
"Then wha' is it, bonnie? Wha' is it about me eyes tha' makes ya go all dopey?"
You contemplated your answer for a moment. Running your fingers along the length of his pelvis to feel the tightening tension beneath his skin.
"They're like a second dusk before the blinding brightness of the sun washes them away. A last glimmer of twilight peaking through the ether, only to succumb to the glare of breaking dawn."
"Steamin' Jesus, lass. Ya jus' come up with tha' one? Or have ya been holdin' on tae tha' fer a while?"
"Little bit of both."
Your confession rolled over your trembling bottom lip like fog on a pebbled shore. Embedded with a hint of humor that never went unnoticed as Soap responded in kind by gently shifting you onto your back.
Bringing your hands to rest along the dense curvature of his neck, hovering above and caging you against the mattress as he lowered himself between the spreading valley of your open legs.
"Ya keep talkin' like tha', bonnie, an' yer gonnae find these eyes between a pair of very familiar thighs."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"Wonnae be tha' last either."
Soap's eyes lit up like glistening orbs caught in a raging firelight. His smile etched across the entirety of his mouth, only further accenting his paradisical demeanor as he graced your lips with a kiss that breathed new life into the dawning of your groggy soul.
Immediately granting him entry into the warm chasm of your mouth. His exquisite tongue carrying the remnants of last night's whisky with the subbtle smokiness of tobacco etched along its fragrant border.
The mind-altering concoction seeping into your bloodstream like a substance not meant for the frailty of this world. Tearing away the cemented walls of reality as you fell like a heavy stone into the sunken fabric of the mattress beneath.
"Wha- what about me, Johnny?" You crooked when his lips tore away from your mouth, moving across your jaw and into the curve of your neck.
"You? Wha' ya mean?" He questioned between gentle, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. Voice subdued and muffled as his tongue lapped at the divine saltiness of your skin.
"What am I to you, Johnny? Right now."
Soap reluctantly pulled his mouth away to stare into your fluttering depths once more. Minding the growing fluster behind your eyes, taking note of your change in breath and the deep flush emanating from the valley of your chest.
"You, mo ghrádh," he started. Accent thicker than molasses and collapsing like time hardened lumber.
"Yer like the first sip of scotch on a cold winter's mornin'. Hot, heavy, and so damn addicting."
The air in your lungs froze, leaching their life giving oxygen into your pleading bronchioles. Halted by his unapologetic sincerity as your blood purged from your chest to pool within the deep chasm of your core.
"Jesus Christ, Johnny. You just bought yourself a one way ticket to Poundtown for that one."
"Aye? Complimentary in flight meal?"
"Of course. Only the best for you."
"There's a good lass."
He pressed his lips to yours for one final union. Only to begin his methodical descent, traversing over the curve of your neck and into the deep vale between your breasts. His calloused yet tender hands following in their wake, gliding over the perking flesh of your nipples while his mouth ghosted over the undulating skin of your stomach. The sporadic movement of your diaphragm creating a constant wave to your torso, tugging a smile to the corners of his mouth as he breathed a muffled chortle against the suppleness of your skin.
"Didnae expect so much turbulence, bonnie."
"Shut up, Johnny."
The bed shifted beneath your trembling frame as he repositioned himself between your thighs. Only now, with heat of his body pulled away did you feel the wetness embedded within your folds. The cool air causing a shiver to run up your spine as he cradled your knees over the sculpted broadness of his shoulders.
"Fuckin' hell, lass. Yer soakin' fer me already," he muttered against the sensitiveness of your inner thigh.
Prolonging the inevitable. Torturous intent with an impish furrow to his brow as he patiently waited for that simple utterance to give him the verbal go ahead.
"Johnny, please.."
"Aye. There it is."
Tagging the Soap Sqaud, as this will be my last post for the season.
@deadbranch @ohgeesoap @writeforfandoms @efingart @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @mini-metal @shotmrmiller @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @astraluminaaa @ghosts-goldendoodle @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @crashtestbunny @greatstormcat @crashandlivewrites @glossysoap @soapsgf @devcica @gazs-blue-hat @tacticalanxiety @chamomiletealeaf @thetrashpossum @simpingoverquestionablemen @queen-ilmaree @weebumochi @dustycrusty09 @sadstone-s @foxface013 @lily-ilo @slutweeds
#soap squad™️#morning glory#soft!soap#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish#john mactavish#soap mactavish x you#soap mactavish x f!reader#johnny mactavish x you#johnny mactavish x f!reader#cod fanfic#call of duty#cod
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Why do the plushies have butts- BUT they are so cute!! Wish I could get some
idk tbh, but me thinks ALL plushies should have butts
OH- sorry gaz,,,
(LMAO but srsly, idk if the butts are an asset to the plushies cuz i legit couldn't pull up the pants that came with them up their rumps huhu)
#like that's the only reason why i bought them new clothes. i'm mildly irritated about it cuz i want the boys in their actual glory outfits#anyways!! wish you can get your own set of the ghostsoap plushies when u can op!!#answered asks#goose9743#my art#2024#call of duty#soap cod#ghost cod#gaz cod#tf141#task force 141
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Just watched Gladiator 2 and haven’t stopped thinking about it so obviously my mind turned to the cod men and the obsession is now worse, enjoy!
(I may end up building on these for oneshots or mini series for each of them)
Gladiator!Simon x Prize!reader
Silent, intimidating gladiator champion Simon who has done so well in the arena that his keepers think he deserves a prize to keep moral up. The scared thing that turns up in his cell, wrapped in a clean stolla with perfumed skin might be more than the gladiator was expecting.
General!Price x Princess!reader
General Price who has conquered many nations for the Empire of Rome and finds himself having treasonous feelings for the Emperor’s daughter. Her tender gaze turning on him whenever he’s summoned to the palace making the General feel things he thought were out of his reach.
Senator!Gaz x Servant!reader
Newly appointed Senator Gaz adjusting to his estate in the city of Rome and catching sight of a timid yet beautiful servant now under his command. She’s evasive, never seeing her more than once every few days but Gaz is determined to learn more about her.
Gladiator!Johnny x Healer!reader
The woman with the softest touch and brightest eyes has caught newly captured slave turned gladiator Johnny’s attention. Something that motivates him to make it back to the barracks of the colosseum everyday, if only to hear her voice one more time.
#the idea of the 141 in ancient roman clothing has me screaming#for the glory of rome#gladiator 2#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#captain john price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#call of duty#cod
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Go down in a blaze of glory, but that's all it is. Something spectacular only to burn out into utter nothingness in a matter of moments
I think this is truely the pinnacle of soapghost because I think neither of them want that. I think that all they want is to retire to a nice and quiet life up in the hills of Scotland. But they'd do it if they had to. For each other.
And that devastates me so much. But it also shows their love for each other
Like ??? What do you mean all they want to do is retire to a quiet life but the fates have destined them to a brilliantly violent death :(
#el rambles#ghostsoap#soapghost#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#call of duty#cod#cod mw2#blaze of glory
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wait i saw @kingcunny saying that hotd should have started earlier and now i’m thinking about what a MISS it was to not start the series with the second quarrel actually. especially considering how the dance ends (and how umm. fun having rhaenyra getting eaten by a dragon is gonna be when the casuals finally see it), it would be interesting to start at a moment where the Targaryens are at the height of their power and yet you can see exactly why it all came crashing down.
the royal couple are living separately. the crown prince is dead, and his daughter has been passed over, alienating one of the strongest allies of the targaryens. there’s a royal wedding but it’s whack as hell and can’t even be consummated. the king is bugging his septa daughter to go gaslight the queen into coming back home but all she does is fly a lap around the capital to flip jaehaerys and viserys off and then fucks back off to dragonstone.
just a full season following the way jaehaerys’ reign crumples in on itself, leading up to the great council and viserys being chosen again as heir. i get not wanting to cover jae's early years because you could probably end an aegon’s conquest show at jaehaerys & alysanne’s wedding or somewhereabouts bc obviously an aegon's conquest show is going to cover the sons of the dragon. but like When Else would we just cover The Long Reign, when most of it is relevant to the history directly preceding or after it. But if you put Viserys, Aegon II, and Rhaenyra in the context of Jaehaerys, Alysanne, and Rhaenys' history over fighting over the throne, you can see more clearly that the rot doesn't actually start with Viserys (or with, as I've seen more than a few people say, the Targaryens marrying non Valyrians) it starts at the very foundations of the dynasty with Jaehaerys usurping his own sister and nieces and then clawing back any power they could ever be given to ensure it's never taken away from him again, except all he does is ensure that every single woman in his house will be so desperate and scared of facing the same fates as their foremothers that they're willing to set their own house on fire to avoid the endings he forced on every woman in his life.
#then you take things slow. do a ‘viserys reign when viserys is reigning’ and ‘viserys reign when it’s the hightowers bc he’s sick’ split#with him dying like halfway thru season 3. probalby end somehwere around rook's rest? maybe??#getting on my soap box#also sorry this turned into anotehr 'i hate jaehaerys' post alsdjfkld#i would love to see him on tv in all his shit ass glory tho!!!!!#put an actual woman's face on alysanne so i can stop hating her dammit
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no you don’t understand. if i watch the last ep of we are, that means it’s the last time tan and fang will be on my screen, and i honestly don’t think i can continue living after that
#like you really don’t understand#as an aouboom stan from the first moments of a possible ship in viceversa#like look at my icon I literally made it my everything#having to go through all these side couple characters that just didn’t hit right#to finally get tan and fang#it wasn’t just a blessing it was like the fates aligned and every single wish I’ve ever made came true#it was more perfect than I could’ve ever imagined#like aouboom just are these characters for me#and as much as I can’t wait to see them in more stuff and hope for a main role show for them#in some way it just won’t ever match what tan and fang is#aou and boom fit these characters so perfectly they play them so well and the dynamic is both my personal favourite thing ever and also just#so perfect like I could write for days just trying to convey how every seemingly unimportant detail of this dynamic makes it pure perfection#I JUST DONT WANNA GIVE THEM UP#I CANT LET GO#give me the tanfang soap opera where I just watch every week of their life in all its mundane yet beautiful glory#I would tune in every week until the end of days#we are#tanfang#aouboom
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I make myself sad
#wip#work in progress#last time Simon lost everything he took out robas cartel single handedly#im not sure he can get through that again#but god knows he's going out in a blaze of glory#they make me so sad#cod ghost#ghostsoap fanart#ghostsoap#cod simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#cod mw3 spoilers#mwiii spoilers#mw3 spoilers#soap mw3
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Ghoap Off Duty: An Idea that's been haunting my sleep (working into making this an ao3 fic atm!)
Johnny and Ghost are in the tube ten minutes out from base on their way to spent leave in Scotland. Ghost is wearing a black medical mask, back to the wall to keep an eye on the crowd as Johnny giggles at cute cat videos on his phone.
A few people are throwing them glances, but none that really last, so he is comfortable with slinking his arm around Johnny’s waist to keep him steady. He melts into him with a big grin on his face.
Suddenly, there is chaos unleashing from the front of the car. People are shouting, a child starts crying, and Ghost is reaching for his gun before he realises. He doesn’t have one.
Johnny comes to the exact same conclusion and with a quick glance, Ghost hands him one of his knives. It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.
With a screeching sound the train comes to an emergency stop in the middle of absolutely nowhere, blank tunnel walls outside the tube windows.
After a few confusing moments and a few panicked exchanges, it turns out that there is a man threatening to blow himself and a good portion of the London underground to high smithereens. And everyone down here with him as well, of course. He is some kind of human rights or climate activist, Ghost isn’t quite sure after his disjointed explanation. All that he knows is that it certainly doesn’t make sense to kill civilians over it.
Johnny is shaking where he is pressed into Simon’s side, and for a second he worries his partner is having a panic attack- when Johnny nearly chokes on his supressed laughter.
„Behave, Sergeant.“
Johnny rolls his eyes and blinks up at him. „Not your Sergeant right now, Si. And can you fucking believe this? We haven’t even been gone for a bloody hour.“
The situation loses the last of its humour as the conductor is forced out of his cabin by a gun held to a woman’s head. He is swiftly knocked out by the second man involved, who then collects all the phones in the car. Not that they would do any good, they are in a stretch without cell service. Ghost checked.
After a silent back and forth – during which the crazed activist goes on about demands and heavenly justice – Soap straightens with a huff and engages him with carefully chosen words. Simon never enjoyed de-escalation training, and Johnny is a likeable bloke.
The guy switches between calm conversation and panicked rants. The honest to god walkie-talkie he has strapped to his belt delivering seemingly bad news every once in a while.
The stressed and frightened citizens of London aren’t taking it easy on him either. An old lady keeps calling him a Nazi, which he seems to be taking high offence to. And the small child that is still crying on and off has thrown their toy car at him.
Soap manages to get closer to him, keeping him as calm as possible and giving Ghost the opportunity to sneak to the front of the car, mostly unnoticed. A few of the people throw him panicked looks, but he just needs to flash his dog tags once to keep them silent.
The bomb looks massive. Part of it is strapped directly to the guys chest underneath his jacket, but he claims the backpack he is carrying is also stuffed full of explosives.
Simon can not leave anything to chance here. They are in a confined underground space with approximately three to eight hundred people on this train alone. If this bomb blows and the surface collapses, the casualties will be in the thousands.
Still, eyes flicking over Johnny – hands raised in a non threatening manner, voice slow and soft, eyes kind but with a hidden sharpness underneath – Simon’s subconsciousness is working out a way to get one singular person out of this alive.
He shakes his head and turns back to the target. No need for that. Not yet.
After a few more minutes of conversation, the walkie-talkie’s static crackling while more passengers are starting to speak up, Simon acts. He tackles the man carefully – as much as that is possible – and holds him steady as he chokes him out.
The people are screaming now, but Johnny’s authoritative voice cuts through them, explaining who they are and what is going to happen. A second later, he is at Simon’s side, helping him to lower the now unconscious body to the floor.
Ghost relieves one of the nearby civilians of their shoelaces and ties the guys hands, quickly repeating the action with the second perp Soap neutralized during the fray.
Ghost leaves Johnny to disarm the bomb as he introduces himself as Lieutenant Riley of the Special Air Service. Then he grabs the walkie-talkie to inform the police on the other end of the current situation. He hears more static than actual words and finally realises why the target has been so irritated with it. It isn’t working properly, probably damaged in some way.
A few people are panicking again when they realise there is no way to communicate with to the outside world. He calms them down and rushes to their abandoned backpacks, rummaging through them. He finds the satellite phone quickly and dials Laswell’s number on sheer muscle memory.
He walks back over to Soap to check on his progress when the line clicks alive. It is a secure phone, no authorization code needed, and he quickly informs her of the situation. Within the minute the army and the bomb squat are en route.
Ghost is still giving through info – approximate number of civilians, the nearest mile marker out the window, how long ago they had left the last station – when Johnny curses next to him. He is elbow deep in messy cables, sweater roughly shoved up and out of the way, he is wearing a bloody beanie, for fucks sake. He looks too soft to be here. But despite it all, his expression is completely focused, lip between his teeth, eyes barely blinking as he works.
It just might be the hottest sight Simon has ever laid his eyes on.
Soap curses a second time – shaking Ghost out of it – and his eyes dart over, nervous. Mindful of the restless people all around Ghost leans in without prompt.
„There’s a timer. Eighteen and a half minutes left. This thing is a complete mess and I have nothing on me. We need to evacuate the civilians asap.“
Ghost keeps eye contact as he speaks to Laswell. „Ma’am, how long on that bomb squad?“
„Fifteen Minutes, Lieutenant.“
Soap curses again, but gets back to work without pause. „I’ll do what I can, disconnect as many charges as possible. If the explosion is small enough the tunnel will stay stable.“
„Understood, Sergeant.“ Ghost can’t help himself. He pats Johnny’s shoulder before he stands up, lets his palm brush against his neck, his cheek. Just for a moment. Then he turns and addresses Laswell once more. „Change of plan, we need everybody out of here within the next fifteen minutes. Where’s the nearest exit?“
Turns out there is an old maintenance staircase just fifty meters away. It is bolted shut on both sides, but Ghost has it open in less than thirty seconds. Laswell has already sent police to clear an exit at the surface and to help wrangle the civilians.
Standing there, looking up the damp and dirty staircase - the literal way to safety - Ghost wants nothing more than turn away and go back to Johnny’s side. Fuck.
All he can think about is, when have they last kissed?
The mask all but prevents quick little pecks, so, not since they left base. Had it been at breakfast? Maybe it was just after they woke up next to each other? Last night, after brushing their teeth? Simon can’t remember.
He has to force himself not to rush back in the train to tell Johnny how much he loves him.
Jesus Christ, mate, get yourself together.
There are currently three unconscious bodies down here – the conductor and the two perps – who were checked up upon by a surprisingly unrattled nursing student. He deems them all stable enough for transport, and, with the exception to the guy still attached to several kilos of C4, are the first ones to be carried up the rickety staircase.
Ghost is leading the way, a big, helpful guy handling the second body, followed by a steady stream of civilians.
Every step Simon takes is a step away from Johnny.
They reach the entrance at the top quicker than expected - not deep enough to lose the cell signal surely. Must have been a scrambler. Police officers are on them immediately, taking over the unconscious.
Ghost identifies himself again, and tries to duck his face when he catches sight of reporters and cameras behind police tape. Bloody hell, how are there already paps here?! He makes sure the police are in contact with Laswell, and makes to go back down.
„Sir! As of right now the Metropolitan Police is in charge of this incident. In fact I am the Commanding Officer and I can not allow you to go back down-„ The man speaking is tiny and overweight. A Chief or a Superintendent perhaps. A paper-pusher who hasn’t seen active duty in years, only here to land himself a nice picture on the front page. Simon despises him on sight.
Oh, how much Ghost wishes for his mask, Officer Superimportant would straight up piss himself. „It is Lieutenant Riley to you, Sir.“ Ghost stands tall, staring the guy down an he sputters. „Right now my Sergeant is down there risking his life and I will not abandon him. And with all due respect, which is none, I am certainly not under your command.“
Ignoring the guys outrage Ghost turns back to the staircase. Brass is gonna be pissed about that one. Well, it’s not like Officer Superimportant can report a Lieutenant Riley. Perks of being a dead man.
Ghost has to press against the wall in order not to collide with the steady stream of people hurrying up the steps. It takes him about double the time to get back down.
All the while he can feel every second that passes deep in his chest. He does not even need to check his watch, he knows exactly how much time is left – six minutes – every cell of his body knows.
Simon is going to drag Johnny out of that car in four, if it’s the last thing he does.
They are supposed to be on leave. Johnny is supposed to be save. There is a black velvet box in Simon’s backpack that is waiting to be opened.
He makes it down the tunnel in time to see the last group of civilians off, thank god the train was mostly empty.
Ducking inside the forced open tube door he freezes at the sight that greets him.
Johnny is on the floor leaning back against a heap of abandoned luggage. His head is tilted skyward, fingers buried deep into his Mohawk. His eyes are pressed shut and he looks exhausted, like he just ran a mile or thirty.
„Seargeant, status.“
Soap exhales heavily. „These idiots have no fucking idea how to rig anything.“ He looks up then, eyes looking heavy. „The timer was faulty, kept jumping back and forth. Almost gave me a bloody heart attack. I have no idea if it even worked as a trigger or how much time was left at the end.“
Ghost feels like he is having a heart attack himself. „But it is disarmed? You positive?“ Instinctively he walks closer, places himself between Soap and the mess of cables as if he could shield him from a sudden explosion.
His heart really does skip a beat when his eyes catch the frozen display. The red blinking 00:00:03 burns itself into his retinas in a way he knows will return to him again every night. The newest addition to his worst set of nightmares.
„Affirmative.“ Soaps voice is hollow. Johnny should never sound like that. „We are never going into an OP blind.“ The laugh that follows is hollow too, but Simon knows. He knows what Johnny is feeling. Simon is feeling it himself. „There was no way to communicate. I couldn’t- There was no way to- Fuck. I couldn’t say goodbye.“
Simon is on him in an instant. Wraps his arms around him tight, crushes him against his chest. He digs his fingers into Johnny’s sweater and skin and bones until there is no air left between them.
Johnny holds him just as tight, burrows his face in Simon’s neck.
There are no words spoken between them. Simon does not tell Johnny he loves him. He doesn’t need to. Johnny knows.
But he does press a kiss to his temple. Soft and desperate and lingering.
They stay like that until the bulky gear of the bomb squad alerts them of their imminent arrival. Simon untangles them but can not quite make himself let go. He kisses Soap square on the mouth. The kiss is deep but short, replaced by a butterfly kiss against the corner of his mouth. Johnny grins and mumbles, „Sap.“
Ghost lets that one slide and busies himself with grabbing their rucksacks as Soap updates the bomb squad on the current status. Then they are out of there.
As soon as they reach daylight, noise erupts from every direction. The cleared area is packed with ambulances and the last of the civilians and cops. And of course reporters.
Questions ranging from their names to their opinion of the rising cost of SAS funding are flying at them instantly.
Simon snatches Johnny’s beanie and drags it deep down his forehead. Then he notices Soap’s grin and his cheeky wave at the camera and he quickly graps his arm and forces it down.
„Hey, listen to the people, I am a hero! Give them what they want.“
Ghost keeps his head down and quickly locates the nearest military vehicle. „If you ever want to go on a covert OP ever again I advice you to shut the fuck up and follow me.“
That does the trick – „Spoilsport.“ – Mostly. They are on their way back to base within five minutes. Not even spontaneous, unsanctioned missions can get them out of debrief. In fact, there will probably be multiple.
They just got on the motorway when Simon remembers something Johnny said. Something he doesn’t like one bit.
He turns to him fully, doesn’t look away for a second. He won’t ever let Johnny out of his sight ever again, not if he can help it. His voice is low when he says, „Johnny.“
Johnny is staring out the window, absently fidgeting with his tags. Simon can already imagine the sound of the ring dangling against them. „Never ever try to say goodbye to me, don’t you dare. Just- just get to me and I’ll get to you. We’ll meet in the middle, alright?“
Johnny looks at him then, really looks at him until Simon feels himself unravel. Feels seen down to his very bones. „Promise?“
„Promise.“
#this time in its complete and mostly spellchecked glory 💀#ghoap#ficlet#off duty#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#cod#ghostsoap#soapghost#i can not believe i accidentially posted the half finished draft#well#tw#violence#bomb#angst#long post
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Soap Gets a Visitor (3/?)
Soap has a bad time but the cat makes it better. Tw: vague description of panic attack
"What do you want, sergeant?" Ghost's dark drawl, was unamused. He was sat at his usual spot in his office. His blackened bulk was bizarrely conspicuous in an otherwise bland office space. The lieutenant's slim profiled laptop was open and a couple papers were strewn on the wooden desk.
Soap fidgets, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. This was harder than he'd thought it would be. "I wanted to say I'm sorry, sir." He eunciates carefully. Ghost always preferred it when he spoke British English.
"I had no right to ask you about things I had no business poking my nose into." He looks down and away from his lieutenant. Soap could tell that the man wasn't very happy with him. The suffocating miasma that choked the air from the moment Soap opened his mouth, made it feel as if he couldn't breathe.
Taking a breath felt like one too many.
Ghost justs laughs, gravel thickened voice turning it into something mocking. "You definitely shouldn't have, Soap." The other man spits his name out, as if the very sound of it offended him.
Soap flinches.
The lieutenant stares at him, droopy eyes going lazier still at Soap's rigid form. "Are you a sergeant, or are you a dog?" Ghost wonders. He shuffles some paper aside and squints at Soap.
"Answer me." He demands.
Soap makes eye contact and regrets it. The lieutenant didn't look furious, didn't even look annoyed. The lines gathering under his eyes, were all scrunched up in distaste, a tinge of sadness in the corner of them.
Ghost was disappointed.
Ghost was disappointed in Soap.
Soap whispers. "A sergeant."
"Say it louder for me, Soap." Ghost commands briskly.
"I'm not a dog, I'm a sergeant." Soap repeats, trying to keep his tone as even as possible.
"Then you can stop following me around like one." Ghost sighs. "It's disappointing." He gets up and stands beside his desk, arms crossed, showing off his towering stature which loomed over Soap's sitting form.
"I really thought you were something special, sergeant." Ghost tells him sadly. "I thought you could be something more." He shakes his head.
"But you proved it wrong to me, just like every other person has." Ghost grimly looks away.
Panic shoots through Soap's veins. "I'll make it up to you!" He begs. "Give me another shot Lt, I'll do better, I'll be better for you." Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes.
"And how?" A darkened voice asks bitterly. "You've failed me. I don't need someone who pries into my secrets, ruffles through my sanctuary, scatters all my things like I'm just some freak show on exhibit."
Soap can't breathe. Grasping hands were tearing at his throat.
"Am I just that to you? Something to ogle at and stare. A freak?" The man breathes. The bleached white skull on Ghost's face was becoming more angular. The lines going down it was dripping bits of white onto the flooring. The darkness was growing.
Soap chokes out. "No, Simon. You aren't anything like that at all. I just—"
"Just what?" Ghost spits. "You don't even deserve to say my name." His form distorts, becoming more shadow than man. Creeking shadows grew from the lieutenant's body, drawing towards Soap.
"You're nothing to me, Soap. I don't need you." The shadows clung to Soap's body like flies swarming a rotting carcus. It tugged at his clothes, the little hands digging at his skin.
"You can't be anything for me." Black tears were falling from Ghost's eyes, eyeblack and shadow mixing to create pitch black droplets that raced down the white of the mask.
Ghost shudders. Pained eyes pleading.
"Nobody can."
Soap shouts Ghost's name. But nothing comes out. There's pressure at his throat.
He screams.
.
.
.
"Simon!" He cries out, blood pumping and heart going a kilometre per second. His breaths stutter, lungs expanding to take in large gasps on air. Soap could feel tacky tears drying on his cheeks. There was scratching at the door.
He shakes, checking his throat to make sure there weren't anymore hands scrabbling at them. His covers were all rucked up and sweat cooled on his body. The room felt cold and foreboding.
The scratching sounds intensified.
Soap checks the time on the table. Red electric numbers tell him it's 0300 hours. Halfway between being considered a late night and an early morning. He hastily wipes away at his tears, taking the dry part of his sheets and toweling off the sweat. Soap could do laundry another day.
Everything felt shaky. Soap knew what he wanted, but getting him would be impossible. The nightmare told him that. Even if Soap barged into Ghost's room, he'd be turned out and barred. He couldn't imagine a lieutenant wanting to coddle their sergeant after having a bad dream. And especially not Ghost. Not after the man had made it his mission to avoid Soap.
A whine pours from his throat at the thought. Soap couldn't help it. He just—
Some more scratches interrupt his spiral. And even more faintly a meow.
The cat!
It was really here! Soap rushes to turn on his lamp, making sure to pad on silent feet to the door. It wouldn't do to betray Ghost any further by waking up someone else and outing Ghost's cat to everyone.
He carefully twists the doorknob open to find yellow eyes staring back at him through the gap. The green surrounding it's dilated pupils swirled. The cat meowed again worriedly. It's eyes ringed with white markings were wide and surprised to see the state of Soap.
It paws forward carefully, hesitating briefly before butting a large head into Soap's shins. Soap had worn just his pants to bed so he could fully appreciate the touch of silky fur brushing against his legs.
There was a muffled purr coming from the cat, vibrations chasing away the tremour trapped beneath his skin. He crouched down, slowly telegraphing his movements so the cat wouldn't flee. Soap had nothing to worry about, for the animal just purred noisily and ran straight into his chest.
The breadth of the cat bowled him over on the ground with a quiet whoomph. Soap was fully laid out on his back with a fuzzball of a cat sitting on top of him. The cat seemed satisfied at getting onto Soap's chest, purring like Soap's own personal breathing heater. The underside of its belly felt so warm and fluffy against his chilled torso.
Soap carefully toes the door closed, unwilling to get up from the floor, just this yet. Not when something so massive, soft and adorable was on top of him. It was shockingly heavy too.
It's ears twitched under his appraisal of it. The black stripes on the top of its head and under its eyes scrunched up at him. Soap didn't know how or why the cat came to him tonight, but he was pathetically grateful he wasn't alone. Not after the dream.
A choked sob wells up from his throat, unbidden. The cat meows worriedly and moves further up Soap's body to nestle it's head in the hollow of his neck. The whiskers tickled his skin and he giggled helplessly at the feeling. His arms came around to cuddle the creature to his body. It wiggled around in his arms, most likely unused to the sensation.
"Sorry I just..." He rasps to the cat, unable to continue without tears welling up. His throat hurt, most likely torn up from the yelling be must've done during the whole ordeal. Soap hugs the warm body against him, burying his face into the ruff of it. "Thanks fer being here." Soap says into it's fur. "Thanks." He repeats fervently.
A prickly tongue laps at his ear, causing him to shiver. It brought him out of the fugue. "Yer probably wondering why I'm like this huh?" Soap whispers. A gentle nip on the ear told him yes. "Don't tell Ghost this, but I had a dream." The cat freezes from the sound of Ghost's name. Gaz's suggestion that the cat was Ghost's was starting to gain some credence. The cat was certainly reacting everytime he mentioned Ghost.
"A nightmare more like it." He sighs, reburrowing his face into its ruff. The cat squirms some more in his loose arms. It's muscles rippled, and it felt more like holding onto lightning for all that the animal wriggled. He let go and the cat neatly jumped out to poke at his face with a soft paw. It seemed to want something from him. Soap wasn't too sure what.
Soap sat up with a groan. He shivered at the chill. With no shirt or cat to warm him, he was feeling the cold tendrils creeping in. The reminder of the shadows made him feel colder still.
The cat butts him with it's head insistently. It twirled around his legs sinuously, motioning for him to get up. Soap huffed a shaky laugh. "Alright, Alright." He murmurs to it.
It herds him up onto his feet and headbutts him the rest of the way to his bed. A breath escapes him, sounding like a half aborted laugh than anything else. Looked like the cat wanted to lie on the bed, the lazy thing. "Ye really like the bed don't ya?" He asks it bemusedly.
The cat just gives him the most Ghost like glare he'd seen from it yet. A denial. "Ye do like me huh?" Soap asks, touched from the fact that it wanted him to lie down on something softer than the floor. The cat looks away and swipes a paw at his shin. It's claws were unsheathed, so it was more like a friendly swat. Soap grins.
He jumps onto his bed. Thankfully the sheets weren't sticky anymore. His impromptu lie in on the floor had given it enough time to somewhat dry. Soap was thankful. He didn't want the cat to think he was some sort of slob. Though honestly, he was sure it was rethinking him on account of his breakdown. Even now he still didn't feel 100 percent.
The cat settles in with him of course. This time however, it resumes it's place on Soap's chest. It's paws curled underneath its thick body in a dense loaf and it looked at him expectantly. Soap could just imagine if the cat could speak human, it'd be saying something along the lines of, 'Well what are you waiting for? Tell me your troubles puny human.' If Soap imagined a certain lieutenant's voice and accent that was only for him to know.
Soap brushes careful fingers near the base of one ear, following the black stripes up its forehead and settling his hand on the back of its head. The ear twitched, flicking his fingers off. "I know ye belong to Ghost" Soap tells it. The cat slow blinks at him. "I wont tell a soul, don't ye worry bout that." He could feel the pinprick of tears in the corners of his eyes again. That damn dream.
"I won't betray Ghost's trust." Soap whispers wetly. The cat looks at him in alarm, it's ears swiveling up at attention. It gets up and squirms itself into Soap's neck and purrs, rubbing it's head into the bottom of his jaw.
Soap cuddles it again. He wanted more of its unjudging affection. "I'm afraid Ghost doesn't need me anymore." Soap whispers into the dim room.
The purring from the cat rumbles in his chest, chasing the cold away. It was a reminder that he wasn't alone in his dark, empty room of his. Despite the thoughts that were screaming at him—despite that throbbing fear lurking in the shadows, Soap had the cat.
The cat needed him.
He sniffles into the cat, trying not to grip too hard. It didn't seem to like getting hugged too much. But the cat lays there unbothered by the wet tears that Soap was most likely dripping into its fine fur. It seemed to purr harder the more Soap tugged it into himself. It probably liked the warmth enough to tolerate the squeezing.
"I'll tell ye a secret." He whispers to it. "I say Ghost is needy, but the actual truth is this:"
"I need him much more than he ever did me."
Soap smiles weakly. "But perhaps ye already knew that. Yer here afterall." The cat whines sadly. "Or maybe ye missed my pets, that could also be an option I'm willing ta believe in." It's tail swishes a bit jerkily.
"A bit of both huh." He sighs, warmth building in his chest. "I can live with that." Soap felt a bit less ragged, the bits that had torn were being mended back together. A good cry always made him feel better. Add in the warmth and attention of another beside him and Soap was beginning to feel himself again.
Soap's hand follows the black stripe on its back down to the base of its tail, combing down fur with gentle hands. The engine purr of the cat increased and it snuffled a bit. Hot breaths of the cat tickled his neck. "Yer so bonnie." The cat meows weakly.
"Yer a braw one, protecting me from the night horrors." He compliments. The cat squirms at his words. Soap knew the cat liked compliments and that it was quite shy about receiving them, but his words were true. The cat was the prettiest he'd seen and the scars added charm in his opinion.
It deserved all the praise he could heap on it anyway. The persistent creature had quite literally rescued him from dwelling on the rest of the nightmare. It felt more like a guardian angel come to save him.
They laid there for what felt like hours but was probably minutes. Soap was beginning to feel a little sleepy, his thoughts focused on the mindless action of petting soft fur. He felt content to have the cat lie there for eternity. It was a little piece of heaven just for them.
The cat purrs deep and low into his neck, lulling him back deeper into sleep's darkened hands. This time, Soap knew he'd be guarded from unwanted dreams by the creature in his arms. Despite its shocking tolerance of Soap's trespasses, he knew the cat was a ferocious one.
Like The Ghost, it wore the tapestry of its battles on its body. Soap was just honoured it had chosen him of all people to touch it.
Soap's eyes droop, his arms slackens. Darkness creeps, but the purring chases the shadows away.
Soap falls asleep for the second time.
+
#ghostsoap#ghost x soap#soap x ghost#soapghost#cod drabble#john mactavish#john soap mactavish#my writing#simon ghost riley#cod modern warfare#cod mwii#werecat!ghost#werecat#cat#the glory of having a cat lie on you
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Ooohhh I'm working on something so good for y'all on this Super Soap Sunday...
The sun's light trickled at the edges of his cerulean maelstroms, igniting a golden blaze that licked towards his flexing obsidian and tugged you further into the gravity that was him.
Words dissolved on the tip of your tongue as you lost yourself within the immensity of his stare. No other could make you forget the simplicity of language and the necessity to breathe like John MacTavish. Only with the gentle feel of his thumb against your shoulder did you ultimately fall back to Earth. Landing in his bed of unending affection to nestle yourself forever into the deep crevices of his heart.
We gettin into all the Soap feels today. That man's gonna take such good care of you. Jfc. He just warms my heart like no other.
Stay Thirsty Soap Sqaud 🧼
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˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍓❤️ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
#coquette#coquette outfit#strawberry#strawberries#pajamas#pink aesthetic#pink#soft pink#comfort#aesthetic#lana del rey#flowers#pink flowers#white flowers#daisy#daisies#nature#soap and glory#hand cream#pearls#jewelry#necklace#pearl necklace#Spotify
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all this emmerdale rewatch has done is made me miss how much of a cunt robert sugden was in 2015
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AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOT ITS TEETH IN ME BUT I’M ABOUT TO BITE BACK IN ANGER
#take me back to eden is so ghost coded it kills me#like im shit at lyric interpretation ill fully admit that but it Screams ghost#‘i spit blood when i wake up sink porcelain stained choking up brain matter and makeup’#‘room feels like a meat freezer i dangle in it like cold cuts’ SCREAMING BITING BITING BITING#its the butcher hanging from a meat hook imagery for me lads i Cant#and my god the soapghost of it all#just ghost lashing out bc he cant understand soaps attention#rejecting his affection and his care bc hes never felt a kind touch without it becoming cruel#and i know we dont acknowledge mw3 but#‘i guess it goes to show does it not? that we've no idea what we've got until we lose it#and no amount of love will keep it around if we don't choose it’#losing johnny being the only thing that snaps him out of it and makes him realise that hes in love with him#‘no amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence’ that realisation turning his love inward and fracturing into hate#he couldve been with johnny they couldve been happy together#so he cracks and destroys every enemy he comes across as he hunts down makarov#leaving price and gaz behind as he lets vengeance consume himself#‘i have travelled far beyond the path of reason take me back to eden take me back to eden’#but bc fuck mw3 soap lives and ghost finds him and they live happily ever after#coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt#ghoap#soapghost#ghostsoap#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#john soap mactavish#soap cod#take me back to eden#we’re a team. ghost team
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VALENTINE'S DAY FLASHBACK
Soap & Glory Pink Twice Set Soap & Glory Hand Food Mini 1.69 fl oz Soap & Glory Heel Genuis Mini 1.69 fl oz
hazeltail on youtube / hazeltailofficial on tiktok / hazeltailofficial on ig / @hazeltailofficial
#lotion#lotions#hand lotion#hand cream#foot cream#hand care#foot care#beauty products#body products#pink#pink aesthetic#pinkcore#pink core#pink and white#white and pink#soap and glory#soap & glory#drugstore beauty#affordable beauty#beauty cosmetics#beauty community#beauty#beauty blog#beauty blogger#hazeltail#hazeltail official#hazeltailofficial
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What if Soap and ghost were on a mission that turned south. Not because of the unpredicted gun fight. Or because the target tried to run.
Cw: Main Character Death
No they were almost always prepared for those kinds of complications. Almost expected them. It was very rare that things went to perfectly to plan, and it was almost disappointing when it didn't happen.
What they weren't prepared for was a botched opportunity to aquire some new intel.
It wasn't that they couldn't download the intel. They both always had a flash drive on them for just in case scenarios, like this one. It wasn't even that the intel was fucked... well, kinda...
They'd agreed that soap would grab the intel, ghost would start taking the target back to the exfil location, and wait for soap there. Easy enough, right?
He shucked the protection of his gloves, in favor of the dexterity he needed for the touch screen. Turns out grabbing intel was not so easy if said intel is bugged to detonate a bomb underneath the warehouse as soon as the download starts... there's a distinct *CLICK* and soap has half a second to think 'well I'm fucked'
And then he's opening his eyes to dust and debris bathed in the orange light of fire. There's something that digs into his back, right between his shoulder blades. His head rings. Or maybe that's his radio.
One hand paws at his radio, as he uses his other hand to push himself up. Both attempts in vain. His radio toned in his ear, and while he did manage to get standing it for only for about half a second before he collapsed. He released the button on his radio. Still it crackled unintelligibly.
Thank god he decided to look into electrical wiring for setting up a new model of charges because after a minute and a lot of fiddling, his radio garbled something half understandable.
"-NNY! HOW COPY? JOHNNY! HOW! COPY!"
"Ah'm alive. Warehouse blew."
"I know. You injured?"
"Aye, can't hold m'legs under me. How'd you get the target to confess to the bomb?" It felt like his head was swimming.
"I didn't. It was the giant bloody mushroom cloud. Don't. Move. I'm comin' for ya."
Oh. Yeah, that made more sense, huh.
"Aye, I'll wait fer ya, L.T."
Ghost asked him questions the whole while, keeping him awake. Soap questioned him back, ever the opportunist, to find out more about the man.
"Ghost." He says abruptly cutting off whatever ghost had been saying, as soon as his eyes fluttered opened. "Ah think... ah think ah'm losin' time."
He heard ghost curse under his breath, and his breathing pick up. "Stay awake, Johnny. You hear? Keep talkin' to me. Tell me-.. tell me 'bout your sister. How's she doin'."
"That's a new one. Never had anyone tell me ta keep flappin' my gums..." he coughs wetly, "Hey- is it supposed to be hard to breathe? That's not normal, right?"
Ghost goes really quiet on hsi end of the line then. And then he speaks up, really softly. "Johnny?"
"Yeah, L.T?"
"Liten to me very carefully. Have you been impaled?"
Soap looks down at himself. It's hard to breathe, but he's got nothing poking out of him, so, "no?"
Ghost curses again.
Oh. Hey was the fire that close before? Shouldn't ge be hot, not shivering his fuckin' balls off? Something's... thats... Something's definitely wrong. His eyelids threaten to fall closed.
Wait! No. He's supposed to stay awake. That's what ghost said... he thinks... right? You're not supposed to fall asleep. He learned that in basic didn't he? Why was it so hard to think? Maybe it was the shivering? Wait, but there was fire. He should be hot. He should be trying to get away from it... but he was so tired? He should sleep if he's tired, right? Listen to his body and all that.
Wait! But ghost said!
"Can you talk to me, L.T? 'M tired..."
"JOHNNY! Stay awake! You hear?" The volume of the garbled words startles soap awake again.
"Talk? W'na 'ear yer voice.." he slurs
Ghost answers him appropriately... he thinks. The voice is soothing. He could fall asleep to that voice so easily...
When ghost finds soap he's not breathing, his pulse is faint, and fire is creeping ever closer. He starts rescue breaths immediately. Next come the chest compressions. He feels something snap underneath his hands. He keeps going. Med-evac should be here by now he thinks.
PLEASE! JOHNNY, PLEASE!
he doesn't wake up. His pulse fades weaker and weaker.
He still has time. He still has time. He still has time. He. Still. Has. Time.
He's not losing him. He's not losing him He's not losing him. HE IS NOT LOSING HIM!
Oh... but the medical team pulls him away. He fights back. They drag him out of the building. He watches as they carry soaps lifeless body out through fire.
They don't even start chest compression again. They just lay him down in a body bag and zip it up
A gutteral, heart-wrenching scream rips through the air. It's him. He knows it's him. But he can't feel it. Can't hear it. Not really anyway. He screams, pushes, curses, shoves. Anything to bring Johnny back.
Johnny does not come back.
He collapses. They have to drag both him and Johnny the body back to the helo.
That's it. That's how it ends.
Nothing quiet and soft like they both hoped for. Nothing brilliant or spectacular. Not even taking the life of an enemy or saving a comrade's life. Just...
The autopsy report said a punctured lung.
The explosion must've broken his ribs. His best guess it that it punctured his lung when he'd tried to get up tjat first time. Then fluid began to fill his lungs. And neither of them knew. Not until it was too late anyway. Soap had gone into shock, and Ghost hadn't been able to get there fast enough. They said they didn't know how he survived so long with the filled lung.
But ghost knows. He stayed to talk to simon. Just for a little longer.
That's the only consolation he gets as he fills out the mission report. That soap's hear stopped beating to the sound of his voice. He'd always said simon had a lovely voice, he wasn't sure if he believed that but soap seemed to think so.
But what now... what... happens... now...
This was supposed to be like 2.5 sentences but it grew legs and ran away from me
#mcd#main character death#angst#this one actually made me sad#like the idea of it just... happening#like it couldn't be stopped#and it was neither soft nor blaze of glory#it just happened#absolutely devastating#el rambles#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ghostsoap#soapghost#call of duty#cod#cod mw2
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