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mockerycrow · 3 months

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I SEE YOU EVERYWHERE (Soap x GN!Reader)

soap masterlist

a/n: i wrote this after listening to this song. not proofread LOL enjoy. 984 words! also i’m sorry about how i’m basically non existent. i’m trying, y’all </3

[WARNINGS: MWIII spoilers, major character death, grief, mentions of catholicism. pure angst, hurt/little comfort.]

Sixty-seven days ago. Two months it’s been, approximately nine whole weeks. Estimating around ninety-five thousand minutes and over five million seconds.

It’s been sixty-seven days since.. You know. You always wake up feeling like it happened sixty-seven seconds ago instead. Your eyes flutter open and you take a breath, inhaling a certain kind of heavy and thick into your lungs. Your chest expands uncomfortably in the morning, your ribs squeezing your lungs a bit tighter than before. Accompanied with the tightness of your chest is this tingling feeling, so slight it’s almost like background noise, just like how the past few weeks have felt. They’ve flown by in a flash, but at the same time, are oh so slow.

Sometimes, you wake up expecting to see him standing over your sleeping form to wake you up after staying up a tad bit too late because he insisted you do so. So he wasn’t lonely because ‘The LT denied me’, in his words. Sometimes, your eyes are sick and twisted towards you. Your eyes are faster than your brain and you see him. You see his shadow so thick you’re convinced until you reach upwards, your fingers pushing through the dark smoke that enters your lungs after you’ve blinked.

You’re sure the others have noticed the toll it’s taken, despite your efforts to hide. You know they’re hurting in their ways, too. Being in a tightly packed task force like this, you’re bound to know each other's tells. Part of you wonders who is hurting the most. Is it Gaz? The man who’s been the most logical out of all five four of you. Is it Ghost? The enigma of your group? He’s always been quiet, hard to read. Harder since.. Everything. Maybe it’s Price. He’s the one who actually saw, really. The one who watched him…

…

You feel something in your throat bubble, so you push the thought away.

Then you come back to it. Maybe it’s you who’s hurting most, being his lover. The person he insisted that was his other half he had been looking for. Maybe that’s you being hopeful and cheesy; maybe it’s you being selfish. You aren’t sure. Honestly, you aren’t sure what you should be feeling, nor are you sure how your teammates should be reacting. There’s five stages of grief and everyone’s path looks different.

Denial – you aren’t sure who you think denial is at first. Symptoms are fear, avoidance. What happened, you can’t avoid it. Not really when he was so integral to the team. Is. He never stopped being. After a few days of people watching, you’ve decided it’s you. You wanted to put it onto someone else at first, maybe Gaz—perhaps Ghost. They’re still.. Living. Going through the motions, at least. But you had to look at yourself late at night, around two forty-five am to ask, “are they the one’s waking up thinking he’s standing over them?”

No. They are not. It’s you. Of course it’s you.

Next—anger. You debated this one, of course it was tied between Ghost and Price but after Shepherd died, of course the Captain took that title with no question. There is a major difference between peaking into the gym, watching Ghost gasp for air after a night full of boxing and then hearing through Laswell the General has been killed. Major difference, indeed. It’s not often your Captain loses his cool and when he does, it’s for good reason. He deserved it, you only wish Price was more cruel.

Bargaining? It’s a no brainer, you decided as soon as you thought of it. Gaz. None of the men cry much, but it wasn’t a surprise when you found Gaz sitting on the steps outside of the temporary base, smoking a cigarette with misty eyes paired with a lost look. A look where he wasn’t completely there; lost somewhere, maybe in thought, maybe back in that moment. In the moment where he had to ignore his mutilated body to focus on the bomb. On the fact that Makarov was getting away. He lit a second cigarette.

Maybe it doesn’t quite fit him, but Ghost was the last one to decide for. Depression is what you ended up assigning him. There’s not many words for how you could describe him. Ghost’s been flighty, quiet yet hostile. He never means to snap at any of you of course, you all know it. You can tell from the heavy, long look he gives you after snarling at you like a cornered dog. He’s just sad and scared, something you can understand on a deeper level. With him, it feels like beckoning a wolf with bits of meat—a wolf who isn’t afraid to bare his teeth. You’re willing to get bit.

Then… what’s left?

Oh, yeah.

Acceptance. Left for the one who is forever missing.

In a way, it feels wrong. You know he’ll never be able to move on like the rest of the world can. It feels even worse when you realize only a select amount of people will know about his death—the world won’t know who he is. Work in the dark to serve the light, hm? What a fucked world. After spreading his ashes across the hills, it feels like he’s become one with the Earth. Maybe that’s his form of acceptance; going back to what housed him. The green roots and blue skies. The rain that pours down over the ruined cities you’re crawling through, the beautiful stars and planets above you during a late night in God knows where. You see him everywhere.

You hope God is taking care of him, as you rub your fingers over his cross necklace. The last thing you have left of him; his dog tags sitting in a memorial on base. You may or may not believe, but Johnny sure did. And you know, somewhere deep down, he’s alright.

🏷️; @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @indefenseofkara @mushr00mf00d @lieutenantlashfaz @fiveshotsofjager @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch @abigatorchomp

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icharxel-xaer · 3 months

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REPOST cause Tumblr thought it was actual butt naked nsfw

Reblogs appreciated!!! :3

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harpsinfinity · 2 months

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Finally got a new fic coming on Wednesday 😼😼

im sorry I didn't mean to starve you guys 😞

#simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #ghost cod #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #harpy speaks #music recs #call of duty modern warfare #soap mwiii #ghost mwii #cod gaz #kyle gaz garrick x reader #tf 141 x reader #tf141

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sstormyskyess · 3 months

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hi everyone enjoy some single dad!soap as i try to recover from writer's block! warning for hurt/comfort [i made myself sad writing this so take that as you will]

You listen to Abigail talking about what happened in her class earlier in the day while she doodled, brows furrowed from her focus on getting everything in her drawing just right. They were doing basic arithmetics, something she apparently had a distaste for. But she makes sure to tell you that your nephew had helped her with most of the math problems, which brings a smile to your face.

A ping on your phone draws your attention away from her stories. You check the notification and see it’s a text from John letting you know he was on his way home and it draws a small, relieved sigh out of you. It was starting to get late, and you were worried about him not making it back before you had to get the girls tucked in for bed.

Abigail hated going to bed without seeing her dad first; you didn’t really know why, but it was simply a quirk of her mannerisms. It doesn’t happen frequently, but every now and then he’s caught up with work on base and you’ve stayed up with Abigail until he got home with her clinging to your side as you laid on the couch.

You shoot a quick reply back to him and tune back in when Abigail asks you if you could hand her one of her blue colored pencils. She beams at you happily and says thank you when you pass her the blue pencil that you remember to be her favorite.

You’re about to continue spacing out until you feel a tiny tug on your pant leg. Ashley babbles at you from the floor where she was crawling and you pick her up, resting her on your leg. She looks up at you expectantly with her bright blue eyes—ones she got right from her father—and you hold her little hands. “Are you hungry, Ash?” You ask and she continues to mumble incoherently. “What about you, Abby?” Abigail nods excitedly, hopping down from her chair at the dining room table, dashing into the kitchen. You chuckle quietly, standing up with Ashley on your hip.

You’re in the process of cleaning up Ashley’s face when the front door unlocks and the broad stature of her father makes itself present in the doorway. He ruffles Abigail’s hair when she dashes up to him and hugs his legs, grinning up at him giddily. “Papa, come look at my drawing!” She bounces up and down and he lets her drag him over to the table covered with her doodles.

You laugh under your breath, going back to what you were doing before. You jump when John’s arm wraps around your shoulders and he pulls you close to his side. “Gotta talk to you about something later,” he mumbles to you, squeezing you tighter. You glance up at him and give him a confused look, but he just takes Ashley out of her high chair and holds her to his chest, smiling at the way her eyes drooped sleepily after her meal.

“You’re getting called in?” You look at him sadly, a frown tugging your lips downward. “I thought you had another month or so.”

He shrugs and sighs, climbing in bed next to you. “Things happen, bonnie.” His frown mirrors yours and his voice is audibly dejected. He doesn’t like being away from his girls for any amount of time. Now, he has you to come back to as well, only adding to his distaste for leaving.

He pulls the sheets over both of you and lays back against the headboard. You take comfort in his warm presence at your side and shuffle closer to him as subtly as possible. You’re not as slick as you think you are, though. He ends up noticing and taking the initiative to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into his side.

Your face heats up to your ears because of the close proximity. He’s shirtless, as he usually is when he’s going to bed, meaning you were mere inches away from his bare, muscular chest. “I’ll miss you," he murmurs, resting his head on yours.

You blink, surprised by his words. You're quiet for a moment before a small smile comes to your face. "I'll miss you, too," you respond, just as quietly, almost as though you're trying to hide your words from the outside world.

His hand trembles a bit where it rests on your hip. He sighs, running his hand up your side and back down to your hip to soothe himself. "What are you doin' to me, bonnie?" He mutters, turning his head to bury his face into the top of your head. "Can never stop thinkin' about you and the girls. You're drivin' me crazy," he says, his accent thicker than usual because of how tired he is. "Just wanna be with you all the time."

You wrap your arm around his waist and rest the side of your face on his chest. You can barely think of anything to say. His words muddled your mind, filling your thoughts with all the time you've spent with him. It's been almost a year since you met him and things have become so different. Things have been good. Better than they have been for many years.

“Would you be willing to watch the girls while I’m gone?” He pulls away just enough to look at you. You look up at him and meet his icy blue eyes, taking note of the pink shade his cheeks had become.

You have to think about his question for a moment, despite your desire to immediately jump on the prospect of being Abigail and Ashley’s caretaker for such an extended period of time. It would be a lot; they were already a handful just for the short spans of time you take care of them throughout the week. But as you weigh your options, you always come back around to accepting his proposal. You smile when you look up at him and nod, sealing the deal.

He looks back at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling from how wide his grin was. “Thank you, love.”

Your eyes are dry as you stare up at the ceiling. It was the middle of the night; you should be sleeping because you have work tomorrow, but you keep thinking about him. John had left for the airport about a month ago, maybe a few weeks more than a month. You’ve not been keeping track perfectly, but it was somewhere around that time frame.

You were missing him. It’s not as though he hasn’t been deployed while you’ve known him. He’s been deployed for a month or so at a time on multiple occasions, but it felt like the time was dragging on so much longer than it usually did. Something about being surrounded by all the little traces of him was making it much harder to handle his absence. The sheets still smelled like his body wash and the faintest hint of gunpowder that never seemed to wash clean from his clothes after his missions.

The light from the hallway peeking into John’s room wakes you out of your restless sleep and your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the sudden brightness in your eyes. You sit up quickly at the sound of Abigail’s choked up voice calling your name from where she was standing at the bedroom door.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” You ask gently while you get out of bed, walking over to her where she was sniffling and rubbing tears out of her eyes. She slowly and quietly wraps her arms around your hips, burying her face in your shirt. “Had a—a bad dream…” She ekes out past the hoarseness in her voice. Your heart breaks immediately and you bend down to her level, letting her wrap her arms around your neck in a tight, clingy hug.

You pick her up and take her to John’s bed, sitting with her in your lap. “You wanna tell me about it?” You ask, looking down at her. She shakes her head, nestling herself further into your arms. “Alright, that’s okay, honey.” You shush her softly and let her cry into your shirt.

She eventually goes silent after a while, her shaky sobs reduced to quiet sniffles and choppy breaths. You lay down with her on your chest, your hands running up and down her back comfortingly. You perk up when she says your name to get your attention. You open your eyes back up and look down at her with a hum of acknowledgement.

“When's Papa gonna come home?”

Her tone is so bleak compared to the cheery giggles and bright smiles she’s usually sporting. You think on the question, trying to navigate what the best response would be. It was a question you've been asking yourself over the past month and a half, and you haven’t even been able to come up with a satisfying answer for your own worries. You sigh after a moment and pet the back of her head, taming her messy bedhead.

“Soon. He’ll be home soon, okay?” You muster up a smile to accompany your words. “He’s never broken a promise before, has he?”

She shakes her head, her hazel eyes darkened in the low light of the bedroom. “That’s right. You just have to trust him.” Your smile widens when she nods. “Okay,” she mumbles, going back to hiding her face in your chest.

You both end up sound asleep soon enough, with your arms holding her to your chest and her tiny hands clinging to your shirt.

more single dad!soap on my masterlist [reblogs > likes!!]

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sunshine-soap-zine · 20 days

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💥👊 Guest 25/26 👊💥

We’d like to introduce you to today’s special guest: @eldritchdilf ! 💥👊

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lupin1faith · 6 months

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matching ghost n soap pfps from mwIII!

(I've been really inactive due to my hype dying down lmao)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #mw2023 #cod mwiii #soap mwiii #modern warfare 3 #matching icons

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tanked-up · 5 months

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(In mission undercover)

———————————

Ghost holding his laugh through coms: Hey Johnny, smile

Soap: Can’t, LT

Ghost: Trust

Soap: Why…?

—————————————————

(Ghost’s POV)

#Soap’s gonna kill him #he looked so sad #cutie patootie #gonna start taking advantage of this pic #be prepared #call of duty #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod modern warfare #ghost mw2 #simon riley #soapghost #mwiii campaign #call of duty mwiii spoilers #soap mwiii #ghost mwiii #fake image #cod meme

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shoukiko · 6 months

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Literally about to fall asleep and this popped in my head

Ghost and Soap talking about the prices of things.

Ghost: I'm not one to buy a coffee maker thats over 50 pounds if it won't have much use to me.

Soap: Yea I agree-

Y/N: Why is it so heavy?

Soap & Ghost: ....

Y/N: Thats a heavy coffee maker

#cod incorrect quotes #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap #soap mwiii #ghost headcanons #i hate daylight savings #is this funny #when I wake up it won't me

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haakaan00502 · 5 months

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Hello, this one has been rotting on my drafts and since its December it felt fitting. It’s still just a draft but I’ll finish it, someday.

Ghost’s Ten Steps to Survival.

…

Cold is a luxury during summer.

Moist windows replace the sun beams that would wake Ghost up in the mornings. He lifts his heavy eyelids, checking the clock by his side table and seeing it three hours past six am.

The sounds of shovels digging through snow, scraping against the asphalt replaces the rhythmic marching of new cadets, Ghost savors the tea as warm as the cold wind breeze would allow it to.

The soft flipping of pages, the smooth yet hard texture of leather replaces the cold stern shuffles of paper reports. Ghost leisurely reads through pages and pages of fictional wonder, a book suggested by Soap.

Soft breathing, a squeaky mattress, and shifting sheets replaces the cold winter nights. This year, Ghost has the luxury of sweat free masking, thorough book reading, and Johnny.

People, however, do not have the luxury of time.

December festivities do not excuse criminal activities, if anything it became a seasonal hotspot. Holiday leave, lowering most patrols, surveillance team having less staff, and the rest of the world being busy this festive season, so it comes to no surprise when Task force 141 receives a mission report instead of gifts this Christmas Eve.

It’s supposed to be just a simple ambush, the team waits and intercepts a suspicious vehicle. Simple as it sounds, gone through several times and over, it’s supposed to be a flawless mission. Wait, attack, gather, and leave, right?

Right?

Though, not everyone has the luxury of simplicity.

Like a painting, each brushstroke having its own meaning, accompanied with hundreds of streaks, touches, marks and lines forming a thousand piece artwork.

They find themselves in a snowy landscape, branches protruding through layers of snow, and the contrast of blood red in white white snow.

Step 6: Secure Shelter

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