Sofi_x
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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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Summary
"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."
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Ghost lets himself be pulled up slightly, his hand just as steady on Soap's thigh. "That what you need, Johnny?" he asks, licking his lips behind the balaclava. Soap’s eyes drop to his mouth, flick back up. "You wanna draw blood? Be in control?"
"Lt–" Soap starts, lips parted on a rough exhale. A plea or a warning, Ghost can't tell. He's too focused on the way Soap's pupils dilate, and the way the edge of the knife digs into the fabric at his throat.
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When Graves rears his head not ten days after Las Almas Ghost starts questioning Soap's loyalty, and with it whatever's left of his own sanity.
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Summary
This is what his life has come to. He’s being disrespected by a dumpster rat.
He wishes he had someone to blame his current situation on, someone to direct his anger at, but in all honesty, the shitshow that landed him here was nothing more than an unfortunate series of entirely incidental accidents.
He knocks his head back into the wall behind him and huffs. Next to him, the rat chitters (sounding sympathetic, though Soap is beginning to think he might be projecting… or just losing it).
Or: Soap loses comms on a mission and is presumed dead. Having been left behind, he has no choice but to make his own way back to base. He doesn't expect to have been missed quite so much.
Series
- Part 1 of and they can't keep johnny down
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Summary
Post-MWIII: When Soap is killed by Makarov in the tunnels, the 141 are overrun and forced to leave his body behind with the enemy.
They never anticipate the mad, masked monster wearing Soap's face to come crawling back out, shaped and reborn by Makarov into weapon tailor made to destroy them all.
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Summary
“Oh fuck,” Soap croaks.
Ghost lowers his smoking gun, and their eyes meet.
"Hello, Soap."
or; Soap fucked up his entire life trying to save it. Now he's on the run from not one, not two, but three dangerous bastards; two of them he hates, one of them he loves. He's doing a good job of staying gone until he stumbles upon two ladies in need and gets a little too invested in helping them home.