#hurt soap

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

I read a fic of an Alpha Ghost degrading an Omega Soap (in the non-sexy way) and my immediate thought was Soap just fucking hurling a chair at Ghost and then going absolutely feral when Ghost loses his mind at him for it.

Cause yeah Soap’s an omega but he didn’t fight against every stereotype, every bad word and demotion over his status just to reach his rank and have people talk to him like that. Is it the best way to go about it? No, definitely not. Does he give a single shit when Ghost is looking at him with a slight hint of fear in his stupid masked face? Definitely fucking not.

[mirikikashika]

This morning I was listening to Melanie Martinez and at one point Soap started.

So I imagined an AU where Ghost gets very curious about the teammate's name and starts doing some research, only to find out that Johnny's name comes from his ex-mates, who always told him to wash out his mouth with soap as he talked a lot. I want Ghost to start tracking down all of Soap's ex-mates to torture them badly, but I also want him to show up at Soap's door welcoming him in a hug and repeating that everything will be fine and that it was absolutely not his fault.

I'm sorry but I want traumatized Soap so bad.

[j-hauke]

I need an absolutely horribly broken soap, like just hurt no comfort whatsoever. Just depressed soap who doesn’t suddenly become happy from a few words or a hug, realistic hurt that is absolutely soul crushing. I need to be outright sobbing.

[rusticfurnace]

devotion

poem from:

[martyfive]

i’m sorry

[s0fter-sin]

something happening on a mission, something personal that has soap spiralling; panic and rage making him reckless, thoughtless, and ghost has to draw the line

“you’re compromised johnny; you know what that means?”

“you’re not pulling me out,” soap immediately snarls. he turns on him and ghost barely recognises him; venomous fear turning his eyes to unyielding ice. "you're not sidelining me; i need to be in this-!"

but ghost has never been afraid of venom; spat or dripped straight from bared fangs.

he snakes out a hand grip the back of his neck, jerking him in a rough shake. "if you can't think, you can't be a soldier," he growls and he flinches like he's been struck.

his lips quiver as they twist in a sneer and he wrenches, trying to free himself of his hold.

ghost doesn't let him.

"it means you give your body to me because your head ain't fucking attached to it anymore."

soap stills, body trembling beneath his hand as he sucks in shaking breaths.

he tightens his grip, pulling him closer and digs his forehead hard into his. “it means you give yourself to me so i can have the weapon that you are and use you the way you're meant to be used."

the ice in soap's eyes fractures.

ghost’s voice drops to a whisper, spoken only to johnny, not this facade of vengeance and pain, and wills it to reach him through the glaciers.

“so i can keep you safe ‘til it’s done and i can bring you back.”

[journen]

Art I did for a scene in one of my favourite fics. These boys have had a rough couple days to say the least 😅 and after some rough stuff is brought up it led to a scene like this….

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Johnny’s a confident man. He always has been and no amount of words from anybody had ever changed that for him.

People told him he was annoying and obnoxious? He told them to go fuck themselves. Someone said he was ugly? He didn’t care he wasn’t trying to impress them. Soap has always known his worth and the only words that ever hurt him were the ones that came from people who knew him.

The 141 don’t realise this though, and why would they? They were never gonna say anything to hurt Johnny, the man was the embodiment of the sun how could you do that to something so bright?

But then Ghost says something. He’s not purposely trying to hurt the man, he’s just a little annoyed and the words are out of him before he can really think on them.

He doesn’t think much of it at first, feeling momentarily guilty before brushing it off cause it’s Johnny? Since when does he get hurt by what others say to him?

But then Soap’s smile is dimming and Ghost can see the way a wall falls between them. How could he not recognise it? He’s done it to everyone in his life before, it’s kinda hard not to.

And Soap plays it off as not being affected but Ghost can see that it’s not true. He can see the way Johnny pulls back from him and isn’t as bright as he was a couple moments ago and Simon hates himself for it.

He hates that he’s made the usually bright and energetic sergeant pull back. Hates that he’s upset him to the point where there’s a wall between them now. It doesn’t matter that what he said wasn’t that harsh or anything because obviously it was enough to hurt the man and that’s the last thing Ghost has ever wanted to do.

[gogh-with-the-flow]

Part 2 of cheating!Soap. More angst. No comfort.

Pt. 1 Pt. 3

Johnny listens to you cry for hours. He doesn't move from his seat on the couch. He cries with you, digging his nails into his scalp. Sobbing at the sounds of your misery. Each wail from you was like a bullet to his chest. And the worst part is that it was all his fault. He hurt you. He was the reason for your screams of agony. You sounded as if you were dying. Part of you was.

He didn't follow you when you walked away. He didn't deserve to comfort you. He didn't deserve to touch you anymore. He was dirty. He had done the most unforgivable thing a spouse could do. He couldn't taint your body with his filthy hands. His hands, which were soaked in blood, that was fine to touch you. But this? This betrayal had rendered him untouchable.

So all he can do is sit and listen as you cry yourself sick twice. He isn't there to hold your hair out of your face or rub your back, or wipe your tears and remind you to breathe. He can't help you. He can't do anything. It's all his fault.

He wants to run from it. He wants to run as far away as he can and never look back. But he can't leave you. Not like this. He doesn't think you could take him leaving, too. So he stays.

He didn't mean to do it, he swears. It was the heat of the moment. He never thought he was capable of doing such a thing to you. He'd never been disloyal in any relationship, and especially not to you, not his wife. His long-suffering, patient, loyal wife, who had married him knowing how often he'd be gone; who was always waiting for him at home, ready to welcome him back home with open arms and open legs. He never thought he could do such a thing to you.

But he had. He didn't mean to do it! The pressure had gotten to him. The mission was intense. Weeks of hiding in a safe house, waiting for exfil they didn't know for certain was even coming. Weeks of heavy fire and dodging bullets. He didn't even know if he would make it out alive.

And then there was Ghost. Solid, dependable, safe Ghost. Simon. That's what he had called him that night. That night at the end of another week of radio silence from Watcher. That night that Simon had laid him down and taken him on the rickety couch of the safe house. He didn't know if he would make it out alive! And if he didn't, then you would never know...

So he let Simon split him open, slow and sensual. The sex between two men- two comrades just trying to cope, to find refuge in each other. Soldiers trying to find some kind of peace in the midst of violence and death. Trying to find life worth living at death's door.

And then the next morning, exfil arrived. They moved quickly. Soap didn't even have time to shit out the load Ghost had left inside him. He felt it the whole way home. An uncomfortable, sticky reminder of that night. A physical weight in his stomach as he realized what he had done. It was a long flight. Plenty of time to think about what he had done. He felt Ghost watching him the whole way, but he couldn't bring himself to look back at him.

When the plane landed, he made a beeline to the showers. He cleaned himself up, cleaned himself out. Scrubbed his skin raw, but he couldn't clean himself of his actions. No soap in the world could reverse what he had done to you. He vomited into the shower drain.

Debrief was a blur, a hazy meeting. He avoided Ghost's eyes again. Ghost tried to talk to him afterwards, but Soap ignored him. He went to his room, packed his things, and got on the first available flight back to you. He moved quickly, leaving him no more time to think, to linger on what had happened, and what was yet to come.

Ghost called him. He called him again and again. Soap didn't know what he wanted. Was he going to apologize? Threaten Soap not to tell Price? Confess his feelings? Soap didn't know and he didn't care. He just needed to get back to you. He needed to get back to his wife and then everything would be okay again. You'd kiss away all the wounds he sustained on the mission like you always do. Your touch was a healing balm for both mind and body.

But when he saw your beaming face waiting for him at the airport, the guilt came crashing down again. Oh, what had he done? What had he done to you? He couldn't even bring himself to touch you. He couldn't eat, or else he'd get sick with himself again. Looking at you made him feel nothing but shame. You were innocent in all of this, yet you'd be the one who'd get hurt the most.

He didn't hold you that night, couldn't bear it. He got out of bed. Simon called again. He answered. It was Simon who told him to tell you. He said you deserved the truth. Simon, who didn't apologize, but insisted that what happened wasn't a mistake. Johnny argued otherwise. He cried himself to sleep on the couch. The couch he sits on now.

Johnny listens to you cry for hours. He listens and he knows that it's all his fault.

[midnightdjarin]

TF141 hurt/comfort drabble bc Im once again sad

Price is absolutely devastated whenever you’re sad. He’s the type to literally sit there and wipe your tears away while asking in a soft voice “What can I do?” I just KNOW that he’s the type of man to whisper things to you while holding you. “Everything will be alright”, “Let it all out”, “I’m always here for you”, things like that.

Ghost either goes into a quiet panic in his head or insists the names of any person who made you the least bit sad, no in between. The type of man to comfort you, but help you collect yourself at the same time. “You’re my tough girl” leaves this man’s mouth MANY times while he gives you soft kisses on your forehead.

Soap will quite literally do anything and everything to make you not sad anymore. He’s the type to, instead of sit and comfort you, take you somewhere to get your mind off of things. You want ice cream? Done. You wanna go to your favorite restaurant? Done. I’m CONVINCED that his love language is quality time.

Gaz is the type of man who knows EXACTLY what to do and how to take care of you. He’ll sit and listen to you while you tearfully explain why your day went so badly, then he’ll hug you and start telling you optimistic things like “Tomorrow will be so much better” or “Your days won’t always be like this”. I’m 100% CERTAIN that Gaz is WONDERFUL at giving advice. Also calls you “love” throughout the entire convo.

[99pm-e]

posting this here too just in case...

[temeyes]

my carpal tunnel's acting up,, have an angy mactavish for now,,

[cod-dump]

Soap: *hand bandaged up as he runs drills with recruits*

Soldier 1: What do you think happened to the sergeant’s hand?

Soldier 2: Probably something badass. Like he broke a window to get in a car to hotwire it

Soldier 1: Or he cut himself catching a knife while fighting hostiles

Soldier 2: Or-

(With Soap)

Soap, looking at his hand: Shit stings

Gaz: What happened again?

Soap: I was getting hot ‘n heavy with Ghost and I ended up stabbing myself with the knife he keeps under his pillow

Gaz: Oh my god-

Soap: That killed the mood quick

Gaz: Did he start crying and freaking out?

Soap: Almost instantly

Gaz, shaking his head: What a mess of a man

[youll-always-be-a-dumb-blonde]

Ghost getting sick, delirious with fever, and begging Johnny not to leave him. At first Soap thinks he's just asking him to stay to take care of him, but as Ghost slips further away from lucidity he's nearly crying and begging until Soap realizes he's actually pleading with him not to leave him for good, the feverish state acting as almost a truth serum for his hidden fears.

[nocturnesmoon]

You don't have to do everything alone

A/N: Making some blurbs while I work on a longer piece, could be awhile before that one comes out though, probably gonna end up at 10k words if I haven't calculated it wrong. Requests are open too if you got a blurb you'd like to see!

Blurb: Reader is overworked and gets pulled away by their boys.

The screen in front of you had gotten exceedingly brighter during the last few hours. You could feel your brain slowly turning to mush in your head, no matter how hard you tried to sharpen yourself.

The sun outside had long since gone down, replaced by a dark and clouded sky that you didn't have time to pay attention to. You could feel your eyes hurting, slipping closed every now and then from exhaustion. Most people had already gone back to the barracks by now, done with their work for the day and in for a good sleep.

You couldn't afford such a luxury right now, not with the current mission and everything that's at stake. You didn't know how long you had been at it today, but it's all your mind had been focused for the last week. Your job was to track the targets, find them, information anything you could to figure out potential locations.

That's what you'd been occupied with for so long now, and you were failing at it.

You were supposed to be a specialist, a professional who knew what they were doing. Instead, you were here, with a headache that could kill, no hope, and tons and tons of unreviewed files you had yet to get to.

You take a deep, long breath, hoping that it could give you some relief in your state. It doesn't. Your hand comes up to rub at your neck, taking the opportunity to look around the office you'd been holed up in.

You'd been right to assume everyone else had already gone, someone must have missed you were still in here and turned off the lights. Either that, or you'd been sitting still as a statue for longer than you thought.

It was a possibility, judging by the ache in your bones when you stretch and pop your sore joints. You didn't dare look at the clock, but you didn't doubt that you had missed your usual afternoon gym session. There was too much to do to allow yourself to be distracted, even for a few moments.

You knew a large part of this operation now relied on you and few others. Ones that you didn't count on being competent enough to get the job done, so it came down to you. Not that you felt very competent now either, you weren't much better, having found no solution to your problem yet.

With a sigh, you turn back around in your chair, honing in on the sharp screen once again. You could ignore the ache in your stomach for a bit longer, if you just tried a few more things, maybe you could find the fix all solution you'd been looking for?

Even with your split mind, and rundown state, it wasn't hard to get back into focus. It was the only trait you could rely on now, the focus carrying you through long enough to fix your problems one by one.

A downside, some would say, would be the way you tune out of your surroundings, you stop noticing things happening around you, not to mention the passage of time completely eludes you. You didn't even realize when the light in the office were turned on, or when two different sources called your name. You didn't notice the footsteps become louder in your direction, or when two shadows towered over you.

You were only torn out of your focused fixation when someone gently slid down a hand over your eyes. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands coming up to grab at the arm and push it away but getting stopped by a different set of hands.

"Jus' us luv" Simon's gruff voice vibrates close to your ear, making you relax your shoulders and let your hands fall back to your lap. It's only now when your eyes are shrouded in the darkness his palm creates that you realize how much your eyes were hurting. You forcefully blink a few times, settling for closing your eyes, protected behind the security of his hand.

You lean back in your chair, feeling the back of your head collide against Simon's firm stomach. You crane your head upwards, despite not being able to see him, you can almost imagine the curious look he has on when you do. His other rough hand slowly slides from your shoulder, over your throat, holding a persistent comforting weight there to keep you in check.

Your lips part ever so slightly, letting out a long gust of air, expelling everything in your lungs and making your shoulders sag. You had barely noticed how exhausted you had gotten, but this was nice.

You try to jerk your head when you hear someone else's movements, but Simon holds you in place. You feel a different set of hands gently lay on your shoulder, that someone shuffling in-between you and the desk you'd been spending the last several hours at.

"Missed ye darling," you let out a small huff when you hear the Scottish accent, not that you expected him to not be hot on Simon's heels. Your scoff is silenced when he gently places his lips on yours, Simon's hand not even bothering to move to give him space to do so.

In a way you don't want him to move his hands away from your face and neck, it was somewhat stabilizing. "What are you two doing," you ask, slightly out of breath when Johnny pulls away. From the sounds and his movements, you guess he crouches down in front of you, placing both his hands on each of your thighs.

You reach forward, blindly searching for him, and only finding him when he guides your hands to his face. "You've been actin' off," Simon starts out, Johnny slipping in a hum of agreeance, "you're working yourself to death dove."

You let out a huff in response, not wanting to agree with him no matter how true his statement was. You run your hands through Johnny's hair, grabbing playfully at his mohawk. You lean forward, gently sliding out of Simon's hold.

His hands resting on you retract, and you almost instantly regret it, squinting your eyes in the bright light. "M'fine," you mumble quietly, letting go of Johnny and looking into his bright blue eyes, "Jus' a bit stressed".

"C'mon to bed, love," you had halfheartedly expected Johnny to plead with you, but he seemed way past that now, using a more authoritative tone and leaving little room for disagreeing. Of course, that didn't mean you weren't going to, though.

"Can't" you continue to mumble tiredly, doing your best to keep your eyes open and ignore the dull ache in your head, "still have to finish this." You hear Simon let out a heavy sigh behind you, you'd almost feel guilt under his disappointed stare if you weren't already ridden with it already.

"You've worked hard enough for today, there's always tomorrow" Simon reasons with you. You're about to protest again when he points another thing out, "don't come with another excuse, you can barely even keep your eyes open, don't deny it."

You barely catch the glance the two men exchange with each other, but you don't fail to recognize what it means. You've already lost the fight at this point, you didn't have an argument that would actually make them listen, and deep down you knew they were right.

"I…" you barely get your word out before Johnny stands up, taking your hand in his and softly pulling you to your feet. You don't know when or how, but they'd already turned off the computer you had been using.

You take a step towards Johnny, but instantly feel your vision swirl, the millions of thin pricks blacking out your view for a good couple of seconds. With a groan, you collide against his chest, closing your eyes and staying there long past how long it took for the prickling to disappear.

"Ah got ye," he mumbles quietly, bringing around his burly arms to encompass you into a hug, placing a small kiss to the side of your head. The last of your willpower and determination to continue and finish your work tonight, dwindles away when you feel his warmth.

"When's the last time you ate?" you hear Simon ask in a quieter, knowing tone. You wince against Johnny, knowing the scolding you were gonna get later. It was hard for you to recall much of anything from the day, most of it was spent in front of a screen with data, minimal breaks. You weren't entirely sure whether or not you had eaten anything that day.

Johnny takes in a deep breath; you feel his chest expand under your cheek before lowering back again. "We'll get ye some leftovers on the way back aye?" he mentions and softly turns you around, "Garrick left some from his last meal, ah think it's something ye will like."

You nod gently, letting the exhaustion take a small win when your eyes softly close. You don't feel like opening them again, being quite fine with falling asleep standing up right now. "C'mon, let's get you to bed, Johnny'll get the food." Simon places a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you along.

"Aye."

How you stay upright all the way to your room, you have no idea. You're pretty sure you should've collapsed at least ten times on the way here, but with Simon's hand on you, you felt like you could push on just a little more, and finally you could collapse on your bed.

Simon let's out a breathy chuckle at your theatrics, moving your limbs around like you were a doll. He pulls you up and takes a seat behind you, pulling you close with your back to his chest. You feel his hot breath on your ear, and after getting yourself comfortable, you can finally feel yourself relax.

"You need to stop taking on everythin' alone" he dips his head into the crook of your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin. "You're not the only one working on this, you can take a break" he mumbles, and lets his arm travel over your midriff, pulling you even closer back against him.

"I know, but the less I’m working, the more time it's going to take to find our target" you answer, moving your hand up to run it over his scalp. Your attention is taken away from him when the soft click of the door opening reaches your ears.

With a small smile, you greet Johnny back in, watching the plate of food he brings along. As soon as you smell the delicious meal, your stomach rumbles, loudly. You grimace, once again having forgotten the gaping hole you felt in your stomach.

"Hungry then aye?" He sits down in the bed next to the two of you, handing you the plate of food, which you accept graciously. You knew how good of a cook Gaz was, but this was one of your favourites, it was likely he had intended to give you some as well, had you been available at all during the day.

You let out a sinful groan when the food collides with your taste buds. "Thank you…fucking hell," you mumble with your mouth full. You make a mental note to thank Kyle for the food later, and then also beg him for another batch.

"Easy," Simon grumbles from behind you, "gonna upset your stomach by eating so fast." His hand comes to rest against your elbow, slowing your movements so you don't inhale the food on your plate.

"I know I know," you mumble between bites, catching the cheeky grin Johnny gives you from how you sound with your mouth full. "It's fine, I can eat, take a nap and then get back to it" you declare after finishing another bite of your food.

"Nu uh," Johnny shakes his head, seemingly amused that you think you're not going to be resting longer than that. "We'll keep ye in bed until ye're rested properly" he reaches his hand forward, letting it rest on your knee while his thumb rubs against your skin.

"What you can't do that-"

"We'll do whatever it takes to make sure our darling isn't working themselves into the ground again," Simon comments from behind you, leaving you a bit stunned at his sternness. You feel him gently take the empty plate away from you and put it on the bedside table when you're done.

"You can't keep me chained to the bed," you respond with a pout, crossing your arms over your chest and twisting your body to look in the eyes of the man behind you. He doesn't look like he's about to put up with your shit, however, and doesn't even dignify you with a greater response than his infamous glare.

Johnny brings your attention back to him, turning your head back by grabbing your chin. He leans in to plant a gentle and short kiss to your lips. "Ye heard 'im, whatever it'll take love" he chuckles quietly, the breathy sort of way.

You feel heat rise in your cheeks and let out a squeal when he picks you out of Simons lap, rolling over and ending up on top of you in the bed. He rests his chin against you, letting his weight hold you down and give you a comfort to your restless edge.

The light turns off above you, and it doesn't take long after that before the bed dips and Simon joins beside the two of you. Johnny let's out a satisfied hum when Simon pulls you both closer, wrapping you all up together in the blankets.

"Goodnight, ye sleep tight now, darling."

[s0fter-sin]

soapghost circus au

ghost’s an extreme motorcycle stunt performer - globe of death, riding on his back wheel along tightropes, that sort of thing

soap’s a fire breather/dancer. he’s a roaming performer; he just finds empty spaces or bored people and starts twirling

he pretends not to notice the way he always wanders towards a certain tent every night to watch a certain masked daredevil defy gravity. he thinks he's slick and that ghost won't notice him in the crowd, completely forgetting that he's carrying something that happens to be on fire

ghost couldn't miss him if he tried

one day off, soap's trialing fire whips; he loves the loud crack and the way the flame licks through the air and maybe he's a little too impatient to practice with non flaming whips first, even though he's never used one before

he's covered in soot and fine welts where the tip of the whip keeps flicking back up at him, cutting through his shirt and stinging his skin but he doesn't let that stop him. it starts to stick to him, damp with sweat and blood and he's quick to strip it off; throwing it to the side to keep practicing

when soap finally gets a few good cracks in a row and breaks to celebrate, he almost jumps out of his skin when he sees the masked rider leaning against a trailer watching him

of all the times he's wanted ghost to talk to him, this is not one of them

he wanted to impress him, dance for him with his flaming batons and be mesmerised by his fluidity and skill

not catch him filthy and struggling with something as basic as a whip

he's ready for ghost to ream him out for not having control over the whip - he's known throughout the circuit for expecting utter perfection in his routines - but when ghost finally does speak, it's only to ask if he's done for the day

soap falters for a moment. he wanted to get some consistency with the whip before he stopped, but he's starting to feel the hours of practice; muscles aching and skin blistered with minor burns

he says he is and ghost pushes off the trailer, nodding his head to make soap follow. he brings him back to his trailer and tells him to clean up then takes out his personal med kit to treat the grazes on soap's skin

soap's shocked; for all that he loves to watch ghost perform, they've never really talked before

part of why he joined the circus was so he wouldn't be a burden on anyone, the oldest in a family with too many mouths to feed and not even time to nurture, and here he is taking up ghost's valuable practice time be he wasn't good enough to handle his own discipline. he tries to brush him off, downplaying the burns and tries to leave before half them can be treated but ghost just glares and orders him to sit back down

ghost does expect perfection from himself but it isn’t out of any malice or ego; it's bc he knows if he isn't perfect, he could very easily die. he’s picked a dangerous profession and he gives it the respect it deserves. there isn't any shame in being a novice or failing at something; he thinks there's a lot of beauty in having the courage to get back up again and again

so every day he watches soap practice and bullies him into his trailer to put him back together bc he knows he won't do it by himself

and every night soap wanders over to ghost's section of the fair grounds, in awe of his skill and wishing he could be worthy of the care he gives him