db97
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John's on the side of the road with a busted car motor and not a cent to his name. He's about to call it and make the trek back into town on foot, until he hears a rumbling pick-up truck come around the bend. He smooths back his damp, loose mohawk before he moves to the side of the car to lean against the door, pushing out his chest to display his tattoos and plastering on his winning smile.
It works—hook, line and sinker as the truck slows to a crawl. The door slams shut, and when the owner appears from behind, John swallows hard, his throat growing dry from more than just the heat with his heart thumping an unfamiliar swing in his chest.
Bookmarked by db97
14 Jun 2026
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And we'll make death proud to take us by Literal_Satan
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
29 Dec 2025
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Ghost reluctantly agrees to join Soap in Glasgow for the holidays. Haunted by his past, he tries to remember how to act like a human being again.
He's a better weapon than he is a person; but for some mind-boggling reason, Soap doesn't seem to mind.
(NOW COMPLETE!)- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 121,944
- Chapters:
- 34/34
- Comments:
- 1,732
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- 3,919
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Bookmarked by db97
24 May 2026
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to you i can admit (that i’m too soft for all of it) by furiosophie
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
21 Jan 2024
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"Kids?" Soap asks, curving his fingers into a silent okay to Ghost without thinking. "Plural?"
"Yes. A boy and a girl. Little Joseph was born a couple of months ago, according to the records."
"Oh," is all Soap says because oh. He has a nephew. A little baby nephew. And then, because that is apparently not enough of a revelation, the doctor says:
"You are listed as their legal guardian, Mr. MacTavish. We need you to pick them up."
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 19,231
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Comments:
- 285
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- 4,592
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Bookmarked by db97
22 May 2026
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[A songfic utilizing “I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE,” by Måneskin.] Worship his body and fall further in love.
In which Ghost and Soap can’t take their hands off each other.
Bookmarked by db97
19 May 2026
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A soft, mollified sound slipped out of Soap’s mouth when Ghost gripped his jaw firmly with one hand. With his newfound hold, Ghost guided Soap’s head to the side and gritted out, “Look in the mirror,” between clenched teeth.
Happy to please him and already feeling the fog of submission settling in his bones, Soap twisted his neck further and dragged his eyes to the mirror where—
Oh.
Oh.
That wasn’t his shirt. That was not his fucking shirt, because he didn’t own any shirts that had bold, white, capital letters spelling out “LT. RILEY” across the span of his shoulders.
Bookmarked by db97
13 May 2026