#dammit roach

[thecrypticdragon]

Hello! Here's my silly artwork I do COD stuff now :3

#cod mw2 #09 ghost #simon ghost riley #mw2 2009 #gary roach sanderson #roach cod #ghost cod #call of duty modern warfare #god dammit kris where are we its been 6 months

[reaper-chan666]

Guys I'm sad. My check won't clear until Tuesday from my new job, and I was gonna buy one of the old battle pass on codm. I don't want it to disappear and I'm like, $3usd short 😭😭

#cod mobile #sadness of a broke bitch. #i just want the ghost and roach and farah in the old battle pass dammit. #i need a sugar daddy

[stupiidgood]

Thinkin about stede interacting with hellcat maggie again. Thinkin about shawn, who just got tortured physically, now being tortured se—(gunshot)

#//not only is this my fave ep so far but its a Time for shawn #//izzys in drag; stedes flirting w women; jims goin full gender euphoria; roach is unhinged; ed looks gorgeous #(which isnt new but shhh) #//lu and pete are ENGAGED #ofmd spoilers #🍍 three hole puncher (ooc) #🍍 i have pirated dvds and i will pirate a ship dammit (our flag means death au)

[dalek-in-heels]

i started trying to learn how to draw for the first time in like a decade lol and made this lil OFMD comic to entertain myself — pls enjoy & spot the Star Trek joke.

[Image description: A photograph of an amateurish inked comic-style drawing on paper of Jim, Roach, Oluwande, and Lucius from the show Our Flag Means Death. They're each wearing outfits reminiscent of their usual outfits on the show. (Mysteriously, none of them have feet, but it's not significant; the artist just didn't want to draw feet.)

The top left corner shows a box that says: "In Which Jim Consults Roach about Top Surgery..."

Jim's arms are crossed, and their dagger peeks out from behind their jacket at their waist, as their speech bubble says: "So, you're telling me that if you chop off my tits, you've got no clue how much healing time my chest will need before I can throw my dagger again?"

Roach, in his apron, wields a big chopping knife as his speech bubble says: "Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a seer."

Oluwande looks worried, hands behind his back, wearing his teal earring, as his speech bubble says: "Eh, I mean, aren't you more of a chef though..."

Lucius's fingers (including his wooden finger) are raised in air quotes as his speech bubble says: "Right, could we really call 'trying to chop off my finger' that one time 'being a doctor'?"]

#ofmd #ofmd fanart #jim jimenez #roach ofmd #oluwande boodhari #lucius spriggs #my art #dammit jim i'm a doctor

[uncoolfruit]

i just know im about to start my period bc the Fallout tv teaser made me cry lmao

#dogmeat!!! #the rad roach!!! #YAO GUAI???? #the bombs dropping #the power armor #im crying again dammit

[cod-dump]

Soap: When me and Ghost are cuddling I’m too scared to move. If I move not even an inch he might get up and decide that cuddle time is over

Price: Nik and Graves are the opposite. The more I move the tighter their hold becomes. It’s like they’re daring me to try to escape

Gaz: Farah and Alex are like that. They’ve almost suffocated me the other night

Roach: … I need a cuddle buddy dammit

#call of duty #modern warfare #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #incorrect quotes #soapghost #ghostsoap #faralexgaz #pricegravesnik #nikpricegraves

[darkverrmin]

Geralt, who isn't used to random displays of affection, panics every time Jaskier does exactly that.

Jaskier, watching Geralt unsaddle Roach: Geralt.

Geralt: Hm?

Jaskier: You know I love you, right? Truly and completely.

Geralt: ...What's wrong?

Jaskier: Nothing, just wanted to tell you that.

Geralt: *panicking* Are you hurt? Injured? Is it the drowners from yesterday? Dammit, Jaskier, I told you not to-

Jaskier: Geralt, relax! I'm completely fine! I just said that I love you because I wanted to, that's it.

Geralt: Okay. I love you, too.

*half an hour later*

Geralt: *bursting through the door into Yennefer's room*

Yennefer: What the actual-

Geralt: I think Jaskier is dying

#yennefer always makes fun of him because of that #the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt of rivia #witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #witcher netflix #geralt the witcher #julian alfred pankratz #geralt

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Did I just binge all of weird kid!bruce? Yes. You have all the power here, but gosh, darn it, reader is too good for Bruce. They can make up and be friends again, but dammit, she deserves her non-toxic farm boy. *glares at Bruce*

"Weird."

"What?" Clark chuckled shouldering a door open for you and handing you a styrofoam cup of ice cream.

"The midwest is weird. And flat."

"What, you can see something other than smog?" he teased.

"There is a school in a cornfield, Clark."

"Well, yeah. The farmer that owned the land wanted there to be a bigger school for a football team that could play actual games in the 70's."

You blink at him and Clark snorted, "Yeah. I know. Gotta start them head injuries early."

"Wild. Absolutely insane."

"Gotham has a literal criminal clown."

"Yeah and-"

"And a vigilante that dresses like a bat. And Roaches that can carry off a poodle."

"First of all, Batman just needs a good therapist. Second of all, the rats carry off poodles. The roaches just steal your hoagie when you aren't looking."

"And that's not weird to you?" he asked, helping you up onto a table.

"You get used to it."

"And you'll get used to the flat. I promise."

"Babe. If I look that way," you gesture into the vast expanse of wheat, "I'm pretty sure I could see the back of my head."

"City folk," he huffed, rolling his eyes fondly, smacking your thigh gently. "Pretty sure you can't."

"But-"

"Just wait till it gets dark," he promised. "I'll take you to my favorite place to see stars."

"Promise?" You pout

"Cross my heart," he said, leaning up to steal a kiss. If he asked, his Ma might even pack some sandwiches.

#bruce wayne #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #weird kid!bruce #clark kent #clark kent x reader

[ivyjupiterwrites]

MDNI - Leash

AFAB! reader x Roach

Roach seeing you talking to someone at a pub, you two are technically friends but sorta have feelings, and the boys go

"Roach is going in--" Soap narrated like they were courtside at a basketball event or a MMA fight. "And boy does he ever look pissed."

"This should be a fight and a half." Price sighed through his nostrils lengthily, there wasn't a time he wasn't pulling that little but out of where he didn't belong it felt like.

"No kiddin'." Gaz, knowing how protective Roach was over you, period, could only nod in agreement.

"Nope." their heads all snapped around from gawking at the two of you, to Ghost, who cooly shook his head. Sipping from his glass, he raised a brow as he found them all their attention was now focused on him. "What?"

"Whaddya mean nope??" was Soap's initial reaction to the lieutenant's nonchalant, coolness in regards to the undoubted fist fight that was about to break out.

Between Roach and the dude, or you and Roach was to be determined.

"You really don't think so?" Gaz wondered with a raised brow, but the more he eyed how unhappy you looked that Roach was approaching, the more doubts he had.

"How the hell can you be so goddamned sure?" Price had his gaze fixated on Ghost more so than what was unfolding before them; there was a glint in normally dull, lifeless eyes. That playful wink that came out to show it's face whenever Simon Riley was up to no good.

"Brave thoughts Lt." Soap weakly smiled to his mate, seeing just how sure of himself he appeared and gave him a punch on the shoulder affectionately.

Roach was now bickering with you, looming over you tremedously and had waved away whoever you were talking to with a whoosh of his large mitt. You looked infuriated, pushing on him, throwing your hands around vehemently and if that didn't do-- your expression certainly suggested you were anything but pleased.

"She's gonna whoop him." looking on through his fingers, Gaz really didn't want to see Roach get himself pummelled by you. Or any teeth flying. He hated that.

"I told him how to deal with someone like her." Ghost assured them with a slight wave of his palm, "Just watch."

Curiously they watched with bated breaths, jolting a little as Roach caught one of your swinging hands. His hand enveloped yours, tugging you closer to him, he glared down at you icily. He had brought you in so close that your bodies were flush against each other, so that he was staring down the bridge of his nose at you.

They couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but he obviously wasn't happy about it. He had lowered himself to your ear, and with each thing that was said, his body lurched to brush up against yours.

It didn't take long, and with much further ado, he had you by the waist, fingers digging into the exposed flesh telling you "we're leaving, now." through gritted teeth.

"Put the puppy on a lead--" Ghost began after a while of sitting in silence, but Soap eyed him quizzically.

"You told him to leash the bitch--didn't you." the Scotsman asked exasperatedly, and Ghost tilted his head away to obscure his contorting features.

"I might have."

_____________________________________________________________

"What should I do?" pretending like he didn't hear him, Ghost proceeded on with cleaning his gun. "Lt?" sighing, he placed his gun on the container before him, turning to Roach he sat there, expectantly.

"Well?"

"Whaddya mean well?"

"What about?" the lieutenant gruffly replied, adjusting his in his seat to better face the sgt.

"What I was just telling you ab-" Ghost shook his head with a shrug, indicating he hadn't gotten a word. "-god fucking dammit c'mon!"

"I was cleanin' my gun." was his simply shrugged reply, a man could get really lost in cleaning his gun. In truth, he didn't want to play Dr Phil or Oprah or shrink, especially over some school yard crush. Why couldn't Johnny be here to answer this nonsense? It was his thing anyhow, Ghost would just eye some girl then darkly walk over with his smouldering aura. He didn't know how to not approach it with his 100%.

"Okay, so, I wanna… 'move things along'," he raised a brow suggestively, "So to speak with __--"

"You wanna fuck'er?" he stated plainly, and Roach nearly astral-ly ascended. Yes, but he didn't have to phrase it like that.

"Well no… I mean yes--that is the eventual plan--but--"

"Lemme rephrase that," Ghost offered casually, flicking a knife out of his pocket to play with while they conversed. "You wanna rail the absolute shit outta'er? Not just a lil one and done."

"Yeah…" not really knowing what else to say to that, he awaited his superiors response eagerly. Of anybody, it was either going to be him or Soap who he figured would have the answers. One of them was a blabbermouth, the other literally didn't want to speak even when he had to.

Great.

He wished Kyle wasn't like him, and that Price wasn't such a Peepaw. 'Perhaps he'd have good tips as an old man?' Roach thought to himself as Ghost was giving him…Debauchery.

"She's an easy one, that one." his superior laughed to himself, smiling wide Roach noticed the mischievous glint to his eye. "--you just gotta leash the bitch."

"That sounds….Misogynistic?" Roach countered cautiously, but was met with the deadpan of Ghosts chocolate hate gaze. There was little room for joking or humour suggested with the dullness of how they regarded him, so tired.

"Sex isn't about feminisms or equality or…. your doodads…" trying very hard not to snicker over the usage of 'doodads', Roach straightened himself up when his CO raised a brow at him. "It's about doing things, that're so god awful, you don't want to even look at the other person after."

"Are you sure?" gradually, the more and more Ghost talked, the more Roach felt like he was in the wrong place, asking very much the wrong person. Maybe he should've asked Laswell? She had a happy wife as far as he knew. Then again, that would be rather uncomfortable. How much more uncomfortable than this particular interaction, Roach wanted to wager perhaps less. "I kinda…still want her to talk to me after…"

"Oh she won't be able to get off your cock." Ghost assured him with the utmost confidence; so much so while just twirling his knife around that Roach was unsure if they were truly discussing sex. "Woman aren't that hard Roach, please'em, feed'em, fuck'em and leav'em somethin to snuggle at night--you'll have'er wrapped around your finger, cock, whatever you want."

"Okay, well that's great and all…" Roach was thankful for said information, but it didn't help him arrive there by any means. "But…like… how do I get there?"

"Ah, yes, right, back to point one," his gloved index doing a loop as to suggest rewinding, Ghost nodded affirmatively, "Put the bitch on a leash." he enunciated ever so carefully, and Roach could've screamed.

"I understand to some extent, like I have the leash right?" gripping thin air with his right, he showed his superior. "And the…Bitch… Ummm how do ya--" with a flick of his other hand, Ghost cut him off.

"Ahhh proposal of the sex huh? Don't know how to do that?"

"No….Not really." he admitted with a bashful shake of his head, Ghost could've figured well enough.

"Ain't no problem." Ghost set down his knife finally to clap him on the shoulder, both seeing and knowing Roach wasn't the most confident or self assured. "You walk up to her, you tell her 'we're leaving, now.' firm-like and grab ahold of her like it means something--that's important, you gotta take the lead, believe in yourself man--then fuck the life outta her." he walked the sgt through set by step, however, he had promptly lost Roach after 'we're leaving now'.

Ordering you around?

Was Ghost insane?

Was he trying to send him to an early grave?

That was the sole outcome Roach was sure was going to happen if he sauntered over to you, snatched any part of your being and bossed you out of an establishment. He had seen your aversion to authority, that you only listened to Price and Ghost, and that was on a good day.

"I just don't think that's gonna--"

"Hey, listen, I get it." Ghost shrugged to the sgt, "She's intimidating, and if you don't wanna sleep with her--"

"No I do!" the enthusiasm was amusing, bringing a smirk to Ghost' cloth covered mouth as Roach lurched in his seat.

"Then do what I say," the lieutenant urged him with not so subtle amusement. "Who knows? Might leave ya surprised."

_____________________________________________________________

Roach, who now was leading you along by the wrist, staring up at him wondrously, was going to have to give his lieutenant….well he felt like a full on kiss on the mouth considering what he had told him to do with you was working like a charm, but he thought that might only leave him long enough to be with you that one time.

He was sure he was going to want more. You just gave him that feeling.

#gary roach sanderson #roach cod #gary roach sanderson x reader #call of duty #cod 141 #141 x reader #18+ content

[8-rae-rae-8]

Come back for me CH.2

A fic idea sent by an anon who I love ever much <3

Lost work count

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Game: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (2009), Canon-Typical Violence, Violence, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Mild Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Age Regression Little Simon "Ghost" Riley, Age Regression Caregiver John "Soap" MacTavish, Captain John "Soap" MacTavish, rewritten ending of 09, Age Regression/De-Aging, pet regression pet regression pup Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Little Space, Age Regression, Caregiver John Price (Call of Duty), Shepherd is the worst, Gun Violence, Face Slapping, Mocking, Men Crying, Crying, Gaz is dead already remember, i didnt forget him, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

They'd been without contact for hours.

Ghost and Roach were too far to drive to find them. Now it was Price and Mactavish.

And dammit if they were going to let Shepherd kill them. They were the captains’ boys. It would be a death sentence.

So as the call screen loaded, their hearts were in their chests. Then there they were.

Their boys, but in worse condition then they were left off.

Wounds littering Roach's body. A slash across Ghost's thigh, and other minimal cuts. But Ghost was crying. Even with the shitty quality of their video, Soap could see it clearly.

Maskless Ghost was somehow more terrifying than his wounds. It wasn't by his own volition, Mactavish knew that. A sick taste was quick to appear in his mouth.

“Simon! Roach!?”

“Shepherd.”

The both of them spoke in unison. Worry to Soap's voice, while Price was angry about their new target. Shepherd put a target on his head from just being near the boys like this.

The scene was troubling.

Shepherd stood to the side, while Roach and Ghost were on their knees next to each other. Roach uses his weak body to shield part of Simon's.

Johnny’s eyes burned with anger, but didn't unleash it.

The way Simon took the protection from Roach, and had begun to curl in on himself said all he needed to know. His boy was too small to see extra anger.

“You'll see them again if you cooperate.” Shepherd demanded. To emphasize this point, he grabbed Simon by the hair on the side of his head. Pulling and tugging him with it.

“No- no-” Simon was quick to cry out as he was jerked to the side. His eyes squeezed.

“Shut up.” Shepherd hissed and pushed him back to how he was sitting before.

Simon choked back a cry, hiding his face behind Roach's head.

“Get yer filthy fookin’ hands off him!” Mactavish shouted to the screen, his hands shaking from their place on the table as he leaned forward.

There was no attempt of anything from Price. He looked almost proud that Soap was taking care of the boys, and Shepherd. He was capable and hardly held back, Price admired that about him.

“‘friad I can't, captain. I need you two to stop your chase. You're not getting Makarov. It's not in the cards.” Because Shepherd wanted him like a greedy bastard.

“I ahm not yer goddamn dog, Shepherd, ye can't take us off the bloody mission!” Mactavish hissed.

“Well it seems we have a dog here, maybe I'll just have to train him to get you first.”

Roach.

Soap's eyes widened a split second. Oh god, not the two of them regressing. Getting them back safe would be a nightmare without a single clear head.

And speaking of dog… Roach growled and barked up at Shepherd. As if he was trying to prove his strength.

“Down, Roach! Don't fight him.” Price stepped in, finally.

Surprisingly, Roach listened. His focus went to Simon instead. Simon who was fighting off sobs.

“See you've trained him already. It should be easy enough to fix his priorities then. Shepherd threatened.

“Don't you fookin' dare.” Johnny glared. Even though he'd never say Roach was his pup, he still would defend him at every turn.

“I won't, as long as you give up on Makarov.”

Negotiation was one of the few things Soap couldn't stand to deal with when it was with people like this. Assholes who just didn't back down.

“B-bubba…” Simon wearily muttered, his head picked up slightly to see him.

Johnny's heart caught in his chest. Tears glossing over his own eyes. His boy, he needed to save him.

“Deal.” Price seemed to speak for him.

With their boys at risk, it was a no brainer. A deal would save both boys' lives. Even if it gave up their target.

“Perfect.” Shepherd smirked.

That sick grin, Soap wished he could smack it off his face.

“You'll see them at base then.”

That was so far. Too far and he didn't want to wait. Thank god Nikolai was close with their plane.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #09 ghost #09 soapghost #age regression #cod age regression #cod agere

[hunterbunter3000]

Your blog is absolutely amazing. (I typed 'blog' wrong and it auto corrected to 'blood'💀)Your writing really makes my day <3

I just wonder what would happen if Sweetheart gave the boys headpats.

Have a great day, and stay safe <33

Awww thank you so much!! I'm really glad you like it ☺️ (and are you secretly a vampire 🤨📸)

She gives it to them CONSTANTLY

She's always like "haha small men pat pat 😀" SHES A GIANT DUMBASS (affectionate)

Ghost always grumbles when she does it, saying that he's not a mutt and she needs to stop. She'll stop when she sees Ghost not leaning into her touch anymore 🤭

Ugh Gaz just loves them. He just smiles and laughs everytime she does it, feeling all happy inside (MY BABY BOY)

Soap would get fussy because she doesn't want her to mess up his hair. He styles it every morning and he doesn't want it to go to waste. Yes, he likes the feeling but GOD DAMMIT HIS AWESOME MOHAWK

She only patted Capitan Price once and he didn't like it 💀he did chuckle at it but he told to not do that again since he's not a child (she did it again just to mess with him and she had to run eight laps)

König always looks forward to the head pats. He would do tasks to get her praise and the pats and ugh-- he's like a puppy. Just tail going CRAZY

Alex would always be so confused on why she would do pat his head 🤭 like-- "uhh thanks? Weird feeling but thank you" LOL

Roach would just vibrate out of happiness and clap his hands. He would definitely hold onto her hand and shake his head, so the pat would last longer.

Alejandro thinks it's a weird feeling, but he doesn't mind it. He thinks it's cute and caresses her hand everytime.

Rudy gets so red omg 🤭 he gets all giddy with a wobbly smile.

She would do it to Graves but ONLY when he has done a perfect job at something, and she would pat and ruffle his hair, messing it up. He would groan and curse under his breath with a hot face while fixing his hair.

Krueger thinks it so adorable when she does it. She can't reach that high, so he either bends down or picks her up and kisses her cheeks while she pats him 🤭

#love em sm #cod imagine #cod modern warfare #cod headcanons #mw2 headcanons #call of duty headcanons #call of duty modern warfare #black fem reader #cod x y/n #black!reader #x reader #black reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #gaz x reader #mw2 soap #ghost mw2 #price x reader #alejandro cod #mw2 rudy #roach x reader #141 sweetheart #141 sweetheart headcanons #hunter's ask lounge ☕️ #hunter talkin out her ass 🍑

[roachy-draws]

R: let me play Barbie girl at the partyyyyy!! RELEASE ME GOD DAMMIT

@i-am-confused-always (please lmk if you wanted something different lol, always happy to draw a different thing. I'm not great with understanding what ppl mean in text 😭💀)

Anyways, ENJOY FERAL ROACH! 🪳👹

#feral roach #he wants to play Barbie girl #request #gary roach sanderson #roach cod #call of duty #traditional art #artwork #cod #roach cod fanart #call of duty fanart #sketchbook art #art #cod fanart #fanart #call of duty 2009 fanart #call of duty roach fanart #call of duty roach #cod roach #artists on tumblr #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2

[foap-enjoyer]

CoD characters' Overwatch mains

141 + Laswell + Nik + Roach Price: Soldier. 100% That man is a soldier player and you cannot convince me otherwise. He wouldn't know how to play anyone else. Ghost: Dabbles in all sorts, mostly Reaper. He likes the dark, edgy characters, but his secret side-main who he'll never speak about publicly is Mercy. Gaz: Baptiste. But he also adores Ashe. Roach: Cassidy. He loves his voicelines (and his looks, though he won't admit it outloud) Soap: Junkrat. He doesn't care about teamwork off of the field. Just bombs. Laswell: Ana. They're identical, I'm telling you. No further reasoning needed. Nikolai: Pharah. He likes being in the air, even in videogames. ~~~ Los Vaqueros + Valeria Alejandro: Reinhart. He just charges in there swinging and hoping for the best. Rodolfo: Lifeweaver. He spends the entire game bringing Alejandro back from the brink of death and wondering why he even bothered introducing Ale to this game in the first place. Valeria: Sombra. I see no difference between the two. She likes to traumatise Rudy by stalking him. ~~~ KorTac Graves: Doomfist/Roadhog. Likes being tank, likes being a leader and most importantly, likes harassing semi-innocent people. König: Widowmaker. He just wants to be a sniper, dammit. Horangi: Hanzo and Reaper. Spams the most edgiest of voicelines. ~~~ Honourable mentions Farah: Any hitscan. Ashe, Soldier, Widow. Alex: Farah's little pocket-puppy- Mercy.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #ow2 #cod modern warfare #soap cod #cod #call of duty #modern warfare ii #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #simon riley mw2 #price mw2 #captain john price #john price #captain price #gaz modern warfare #gaz cod #valeria garza #gaz mw2 #alejandro cod #rudy mw2 #rodolfo parra

[notfromcold]

Roach: Dammit, Captain, I'm a doctor not a chef!

Roach: Just kidding. I'm a man of many skills.

#ofmd

[vyglitchcraft]

I wanna be a housewife to Ghost or anyone in 141 but how can i do that when all of my cooking has a fuck ton of spices in em, Brits can't handle spices or spicy things in general, they're gonna have stomach ache every time they eat my cooking

Although this got me thinking who in 141 has the WORSE spice tolerance? Imagine Asian!reader eating something like ayam geprek or samyang, one the guys wants to try and asks "is it spicy?" "No not really, here you should try!' And after one bite, they run to the kitchen chugging milk or water like no tomorrow

So heres my list

Ghost

- he knows he's not good with spice, i mean he can handle spicy chicken wing or something similar but he won't go out of his way to get something he knows would wreck him

- compared to other brits? He could handle spice very well

- eats things with a fuck ton of siracha or chili sauce he probably can't handle any type of Sambal except sambel ijo, he can handle that

- but if eats something that is way too spicy for him, he will be completely silent, even more than usual. yeah he feels pain, like horrible amounts of pain, he's just good at hiding it

Price

- i mean he's...okay? Not as good as Simon but he can handle a bit

- similar to Ghost, he won't go out of his way to find ultra spicy stuff

- it wrecks HAVOC on this man. Like he is sweating, chugging alcohol (which makes it worse), and banging the table. He hates it

- he yells at Soap or the reader for this, although don't take his words to heart, he's just in pain

Soap and Gaz

- same level of spice tolerance but definitely the weakest in reboot cast

- they dare each other to eat spicy shit just for fun, yes this includes Ghost and friends. Price has gotten tired of em doing these types of shits, he ain't listening to em complaining that they can't work today because they have a stomach ache, yeah he is tired of it

- Soap will let out curses that you have never even heard in your entire life. He might as well speak in another language like the words he's screaming out shouldn't even come out of a human, his accent also gets 10x stronger

- Gaz is much calmer, you can see the panic in his eyes as he quietly drinks a cup of milk while staring at nothing. Has no idea why he's doing this, but he knows he's gonna do it again later

Roach

- poor boy can't handle spice at all, avoids spicy stuff like the devil

- he's the one that panics and immediately goes to the sink and washes his mouth.

- he's usually quiet, doesn't talk at all but the one time you could hear him talk is when he's spiced out. He mumbles jumbled up words and cries, why did he do this to himself?

- the only exception to Price's rule because it causes him so much pain that he can't even push himself to work

Bonus! Alejandro

- Spice GOD, he's Mexican of course he can handle his spice and dammit he's actually smug about it after founding out most can't handle it

- bro eats everything with chili sauce, Ghost pales in comparison.

- the only thing he can't handle? Samyang noodles. He overestimated himself when Soap dared him to eat a bowl of it "this? Spicy? You're over exaggerating, here let me try" and then immediately regrets it

- his reaction is similar to Price. He tries to talk as much as he could because he hopes that it's gonna take his attention away from the pain but nah it doesn't work

#task force 141 #x reader #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #captain price #john soap mactavish #gary roach sanderson #alejandro vargas

[octopiys]

II. two turtle doves

Wordcount: 7.2k IM SO SORRY THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME

Pairing(s): eventual Soap/Ghost, Price/Nikolai, implied Alejandro/Rodolfo

Warnings: blood/violence, traumatic injury, chronic pain (written by someone with chronic pain), ptsd, hallmark Christmas, description of an animal attack

(A/N: hello here's the second part! I hit 400 followers, and then lost a few so I was gonna celebrate but take this as it is! Thank yall so much for the support <3, my requests are still open!!)

Find the masterlist here.

His shoulder bag dropped to the floor as he shuffled his way into the small cabin, the snow picking up outside. Luckily enough, the majority of the place was furnished as Laswell told him it would be, outside of other decorations.

He was sure it was more than he needed, but it didn't quite matter. He limped into the bedroom, flicking on the light. A thin layer of dust had covered the place, another project he'd have to start, and dumped his bag's contents into the drawers. A few photos were set out on the dresser, the counter, and....

That was easier than he expected.

Maybe he should've gone into the store when he was in town.

Dammit.

It was late anyways. He forgot that the night comes sooner in the winter. It's been a while since he's been in a place where the nights were actually cold, where the darkness was one that enveloped you.

He locked the doors, double checked the windows, and then checked them again. All secured.

So he got in the shower.

He couldn't listen to music, not now at least. He had to make sure that he categorized everything, made sure that he had all the sounds processed, all the normalicies compartmentalized.

The warm water made him gasp, then breathe a sigh of relief as it worked out the knots in his shoulders.

He needed to cut his hair.

It was by no means within military regulations anymore, not that he needed it to be. But the normalcy was almost required of him, and his mohawk was growing long beneath his fingers. He hadn't had the chance to cut it since.... however long it had been before he started PT. He ran shampoo through it, almost touching the tip of his shoulders, then allowed himself a few more sparing minutes in the warmth before getting out.

The night was long. His mind was restless as he tossed and turned in his too clean sheets. His bed was too soft, too comfortable, or maybe not enough. By the time he got used to the sounds of the water heater, it turned off, and he was left with the whir of the fan and the space heater.

Helicopter blades.

Laswell was worried, and Roach was scared-

He pushed his covers off and turned off the fan, sighing.

His clock blinked at him, the numbers reading 04:32.

No better way to start the day than early.

He stretched, sitting at the edge of his bed. He didn't bother with his knee brace, he'd put it on before he left. Just had to be a little careful around here.

The linoleum was cold underneath his feet as he padded into the kitchen. There wasn't a coffee pot.

He wondered what the chances were that the bakery was open. If not, he was sure there was a Starbucks somewhere within this town, he'll just finish some reports, then....

He popped a few pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. Pain meds, pain meds that didn't work. But it doesn't matter too much to him right now, as he straps his knee brace on and sighs. He shrugs on his windbreaker, since it's the only thing he has outside of the one long sleeved shirt he owned, and headed out.

The streets were cold, no suprise there, but in no way were they dark. The telephone poles were alight with decoration, Christmas lights winding up and down the wood. Every corner didn't go amiss either, bright as almost day.

His breath fogged up the cold air, and he hunched closer into himself to try and conserve heat. No one was out on the streets, not that he had expected there to be, but that meant that nothing was open, either.

Soon enough, the bakery came into view, the LED lights of the SpecBru sign reflecting on parts of the icy pavement. Lights on, Soap could see in the windows from here, the man from yesterday, Kyle, sweeping and looking like he was in the process of opening.

Soap entered quicker than he would've liked to, startling the crap out of the poor baker.

"Hey-! You're- oh. Hey, Johnny boy, early start to the day?" Kyle asked, recovering his broom from the floor where he had thrown it.

Soap groaned and slid into a booth, rubbing his hands together to try and get them warm again. "Too early. Can the day start if it never ended?" He grumbled to no one but himself, and he heard Kyle chuckle.

"I'll take it you need a coffee, then?"

"Bless ye, Kyle."

The rumble of the coffee machines were heard as Kyle powered them on. The dishwasher was currently going, and most of the display case was empty, not having been filled yet in the early hours of the morning.

Kyle was once again wearing his faded blur cap, but this time, he wore a dark blue apron that covered a red and green sweater.

"A fan of the holidays?" Soap asked, leaning forward as he watched the man work.

"You kinda have to be to live here, Johnny. It's like a month long ordeal." Kyle said with a shrug of his shoulders, watching as the machine poured the steaming liquid into a mug. "It's the theme surrounding here. Y'know, we've even got a petting zoo. Except the guy there isn't too much of the 'Santa' type."

Soap grimaced. "He's nae like-"

"Oh God no!" Kyle laughed as the machine spizzled to a stop, and he pulled out the mug, sliding it across the counter to Soap. "Just a hermit, is all. Not much to worry about, but the kids seem to love him."

Soap hummed, taking a large sip of his coffee, practically moaning as the warmth coursed through him. "That's some good shite, Kyle."

The man laughed. "Thanks, mate. I should probably open a store."

Soap chuckled. "Och, speakin' o' stores, ye ken where I can find a warmer jacket?"

Kyle blinked at him.

"Do *you know* where I can find a war-mer jacket?" He tried his best British impression to try and get the words through the man's head.

Kyle stopped whatever he was doing, giggling like a child. "Please- please don't ever do that again, lord jesus- yes, I know where the general store is, I can take you once Alex gets here, he's supposed to help me open-"

As if on cue, the little bell above the door dinged as it opened, a new guy backing in through the door. Somehow, he was balancing a stack of boxes in his arms, unable to see past them, but still muttered a, "coming through!" as he walked by.

Soap saw imminent death as the man, Alex, was heading straight for a stray chair, diving forward to stop him before-

"Oh, shit!" The American said, tipping forward, but Soap grabbed the top two boxes before they fell, unable to save Alex who fell directly into the chair. The ceramics within the box clicked together, but remained largely unbroken as Kyle slid across a table to help him up.

"Ah- are ye alright?" Soap asked, hesitantly, setting the boxes down quickly before turning towards Alex to check him over.

"Yeah yeah, thank you, Gaz-" He batted Kyle away, doing a once over of Soap, then the boxes, before double taking Soap. "Wait a minute. I... don't know you."

Gaz, who was checking inside the boxes to make sure the mugs were still intact, glanced over between the both of them. "Oh, sorry. Alex, this is Johnny, Johnny, this is Alex. Alex is our head barista, and Johnny... just... moved here." Kyle settled on, smoothing his hands over his apron. To Soap, it seemed like suddenly he looked rather nervous.

The head barista, Alex, seemed also relatively put together, even if he almost tripped and died on the way in. His hair was brushed into an almost curled sort of way, his beard neat and trimmed, and a bit of an unruly mustache. Okay, a bit is an understatement, but you get the picture. Less noticeably, the man also had a prosthetic leg, and an impressive sleeve of tattoos, wearing a scarf he swore he'd seen before....

There was an awkward pause that had settled over the room, before Soap cleared his throat and turned away, feeling like he was intruding on something.

"Johnny boy!" Gaz almost shouted, startling the shit out of him. The baker was sin the process of taking off his apron, throwing it behind the counter, grabbing Soap by the arm. "Time to go to the store. Let's- let's go."

The door closed behind them, and through the frosted windows, Soap saw Alex blinking in confusion.

"So... Alex, huh?" Soap mused, zipping up his jacket.

"You shut your goddamned mouth, Johnny." Kyle groaned, hiding his face in his scarf. His face was burning as his cheeks glowed in embarrassment.

"What? Ah'm just sayin', he's easy on the eyes, laddie-"

"He's dating Farah, and they're both my best friends! Besides it's not like- like- oh, forget it." Snow was coming down lightly, melting as it came into contact with the salted pavement. Soap brushed some out of his hair before it froze in his mohawk.

The sun was barely rising despite it being a bit of a decent time into the morning now, a downside of the long winter nights. But the town was slowly waking up, Soap had started seeing more people come outside, other cars join the streets, lights and displays turning on.

Kyle made an abrupt turn into an alleyway, muttering something about a shortcut, and Soap followed without a trace of doubt in his mind, only burning with one question.

"Why do they call ye Gaz?"

He'd heard it before from the woman behind the counter yesterday, and hadn't thought much of it, and Alex's remark had caused him to remember.

"Ah well-" Gaz pulled the brim of his hat down onto his head, muttering something that he couldn't hear.

"Wh-?"

"I blew up an oven and a kid called me Gas! But he- he had a bit of a speech impediment so it came out as 'Gaz' and-" Soap started laughing at the man's defensiveness, and the story. "- And- shut up, Johnny- and everyone just started using it, that's-"

Soap had doubled over in laughter, clutching his aching sides in the cold air. Kyle rolled his eyes, but couldn't fight off a smile.

Soon enough, after both men recovered, they walked into the store. And it's The Store(trademarked!), according to Gaz, because it had anything they ever needed, which was real convenient! .....until he ran out of baking supplies one time and had to close SpecBru until the store got in their next monthly shipment.

It was much warmer in here than outside, despite the buzzing fluorescents above them. Most of the shelves were stocked, a few people with carts pulling around until they found what they needed.

Gaz dragged him to the clothes section first. "You're gonna want more winter clothes than summer clothes for sure, so we'll find you a jacket first. Then we'll move on to pants, and shirts, and then I'll leave you to roam before Alex burns the place down before I get back."

"Comin' from ye, Gaz." Soap teased, and Gaz grumbled a few curses under his breath.

"Still a valid concern."

He was lucky that the military paid him well before his leave. He never had much to spend it on either way, and rarely was it ever for himself. Between clothes, and the groceries that he hasn't even started looking for yet, it was good that he never did. At least ten outfits, and Gaz making fun of him for an hour, later, Soap finally was able to escape and get groceries. Gaz left him on his own, headed out to load his truck with supplies for the week.

Okay, he could do this.

He started worming his way through the aisles, picking off various things like cereals, some canned goods, and a case of water– all imperishables.

Then he stopped.

He'd be living here for a while, as Laswell tried to tell him, as much as he didn't want to believe it. He was sure he'd need other things, like a toothbrush and- oh, and a coffee pot. With coffee. Oh, that sounds so good.

So he made his way to the coffee aisle, which was also the tea, soup, pasta, and spice aisle, planning on beelining right towards the coffee machinery. Quickly glancing over each box, he picked out a little blue machine, turning it around to read about it as he walked back to his cart.

No more than two steps gone had he run into someone, stumbling backwards, a flurry of apologies leaving his mouth as he lowered the box.

"Watch it," growls a gruff voice in a skull patterned sweater.

You know how when you're imprisoned, and you're supposed to find the biggest, meanest looking guy and either beat him up, or befriend him?

This guy would definitely be the pick in the yard.

Soap did a quick once over. Tall and muscled, wearing at least a few layers of clothes, and an odd looking ski mask that barely hid honey colored eyes, the man was downright intimidating, even for him. Hell, he'd been through war, seen the gulags, dealt with experiments, and torture, and corruption, and yet....

Soap wouldn't stand a chance against him.

"Shite, yer just built like a brick chimney are ya? Not surprised ya didn't see me. I'm John MacTavish, but you can call me Johnny if ya want- or if ya want to call me anything else that'd be fine too." His voice wavered with his crumbling suave confidence. He was blowing it as he spoke, but he maintained to hold the fort down as he set the coffee machine in his cart and hurriedly stuck out a hand, just slow enough to hide his eagerness.

The skull patterned man instead glared and reached to grab something off the shelf behind him, brushing over Soap's shoulder to do so.

Yeah, Soap was absolutely dwarfed in comparison.

He smelled like lumber and pine, mixed with something slightly animal, sinewy, like a barn. Not that Soap was, like, paying attention to that at all- or anything-

And then the tension was broken as the man ended his glare to roll his eyes and mutter something akin to "bloody tourists", as he pulled away with a box of tea, honey eyes darting to the sign in the next aisle before walking off.

Soap's face flushed alight with humiliation as he stood, flabbergasted with himself, glancing around the aisle and making eye contact with a lady who also seemed to be hiding her second-hand embarrassment by reaching for too many boxes of pasta.

He needed to find Gaz. Fuck the coffee, he was done shopping, he could come back later, he needed to get out of there before he made anything worse-

"An' then ah just decided ta talk to 'im like a dumb lad who's never seen a real person! After ah hit 'im wit' a coffee pot!" Soap exclaimed frustratedly, as he forcibly hung clothes up in his closet. He had already donned his new boots and coat, feeling much warmer than he has within the previous hours. "Ah mean, sure, ah woulda liked ta get ta know 'im, an'-"

"John, mate, I can't understand a thing you're sayin' when you're all hot and bothered-"

"Ah'm NAE-"

"IF I HAVE TO hear about a fuckin' coffee pot again, I'm gonna throw it against the wall and send you off to get a new one. Take a breather, aight?" Gaz continued as if he hadn't heard about him. "Besides, I've got a pretty good idea of who you're talkin' about. Right miracle he didn't rip your head off after you touched him the first time."

Soap blinked at him, gaping like a fish. "What d'ya mean?"

"I mean, the man's a social recluse. Rarely see him, and half the time I do, it's never longer than ten minutes. I barely get a hello out of him when he comes into SpecBru-"

"He goes into SpecGru?" John eagerly swayed like a teenager learning new gossip on their favorite celebrity.

"-Shush, let me finish. I barely get a hello out of him when he comes into the bakery, but the man's kind. Doesn't quite get on with most people, either, but we see 'im more around the holidays than any other time." Gaz tossed him another shirt, and he caught it, before sticking a hanger through the sleeves, and wiping a hand over his face. "That's the last one, by the way."

Soap thanked him, before an alarm went off on his phone. It jarred him out of his senses for a moment, the newness deciding to-

He hated that goddamn alarm. Up and at em, always. Whether it was paperwork, or deployment, it was always there. Always constant. The coldness of the tile beneath his feet grounded him, soothed the horrid ache in his leg from the ground up. It always got his heart racing when it went off. He'd have to change it when he got back to wherever Laswell was deciding to send him for recovery.

"John, you alright?"

It was the default on his phone. Had to take his goddamn medicine. Always a part of the schedule, so he didn't have to worry about it until suddenly he had no work to do. He lost his schedule. Some things were best left behind.

"Uh- aye, sorry. Can you-" Gaz had his phone in his hands, and Soap was sitting on his bed. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. The alarm was no longer going off. "-hand me the medicine container on the dresser please?"

The deep ache in his knee was beginning to return the longer that he thought about it. He blinked again slowly, taking a deep breath like he was grounding himself. Gaz wordlessly passed him the container, not even sparing a glance to read whatever it said. Tramadol, paracetamol, and another thing he usually forgot. One pill would do for now, while the pain wasn't bad enough to incapacitate him for a second pill.

"As I was saying before," Gaz continued as if he had never stopped, and Soap was thankful. "His name's Simon. Simon Riley. His go to order is usually two eccles cakes and an English breakfast, or an earl grey-"

"Why are ye telling me this?"

"Because I think you're practically in love with this guy, and I'd rather tell you instead of watching you struggle to figure it out. Anyways," He fixed his cap, standing up and leaving to the kitchen to unload the rest of the stuff. Soap followed him out, looking like a lost puppy, begging and sniffling for a crumb of anything Gaz wished to give him.

"Ah'm nae in love wit' 'im! Ah just hit him with a coffee machine!" He exclaimed, storming into the kitchen.

"Right, right, of course. Y'know, he runs the Riley Farm just outside of town. They call themselves a tree farm, but there's a shit ton of other things to do there too. Shame it's just him runnin' it, though." Gaz plugged in the coffee machine. "Got a whole petting zoo and everything."

"Petting zoo? For what, reindeer?" John joked, half disbelief written onto his face that much of anything could live up here, much less be considered 'petting zoo.'

The look of brief confusion on Gaz's face told him that he had hit the nail right on the head. "Nae, you dinnae- reindeer? Really?"

"Well... I mean, it's kind of on brand for us up here." Gaz gestured around, and Soap somehow knew what he meant. A Christmas themed town who's whole shebang is.... yeah, reindeer seemed the least weird out of it all, actually.

It turned out, reindeer was not, in fact, the least weird out of everything he learned.

Gaz had left a few hours ago after everything had been loaded into his little cabin, a place that was slowly coming together as home. Bacon was sizzling in a cast iron on the stove, Soap tired enough to only throw something together.

Skrrtch.

"What the...?" Soap whipped around at the sound behind him. Like scratching on glass, like someone was trying to open a door. He clicked off the burners, reaching for a kitchen knife. "Who's there? Yer at the wrong fuckin' house!"

Skriitchh.

He flipped the knife in his hand, angling the blade away from him. A slight breeze blew through the room, the curtains drifting in front of the glass door. It was dark outside, the early kind of dark that you get in the dead winter. Hair raised on the back of his neck as he heard it again, the slow scratch of something being drawn across glass. He took a couple steps towards the swaying curtains, hand out and-

"Creepin' jesus, fuck-!" Soap shouted after tearing the curtains away to reveal a.. deer? An elk? Whatever it was, it was stuck in the screening of his window, tired pants leaving it limp with exhaustion, it's antlers all tangled in the screen. He breathed an aggravated sigh, pushing the curtains against the wall.

He grabbed his nearest sweater, resting on the dining table and shrugged it on, before clicking in the flashlight on his phone and trudging outside. Pity nipped his heart with the biting cold outside as he stuck his phone in his pocket, the flashlight just peeking out to illuminate the creature.

Its breaths fogged up in the freezing air, small, short puffs of cloud fogging against his window.

"Poor bastard." Grumbled Soap, gently reaching over and patting the deer reassuringly, smoothing over its soft fur. It appeared to be so well kept that Soap could've considered it someone's pet, having escaped its fencing to enjoy the luxury of a screened window. He reached his knife just above the antlers, cutting into the screen and sawing away at the thin metal. The deer huffed, struggling again at the sudden release of pressure and Soap jerked the knife away before the animal could hurt itself any further.

There was a sharp tear in the screen as the deer bucked her head, and Soap muttered out a low curse, taking a step back from the animal. There would be no way to fix it now, not without getting it replaced.

Another tear, and Soap jumped into action, smoothing over its face with soft whispers of reassurance, slowly bringing his knife to cut around what he could.

A beam of light flashed over one of the hills further off his property, followed by some yelling in another language, and Soap's hands started working faster. The deer seemed to have realized that hebwas trying to help, because she lessened the tension in her body like she was trying to help him set her free.

"That's a good lassie, almost done, almost done..." He murmured, cutting through the last bit and snapping to get her attention. She shook her head, grunting and huffing with what he assumed to be appreciation, taking a few wobbly steps.

"We got her over here!" Shouts a deeper voice, thick with an accent and he looked up, startled, to see a man cresting his hill, holding a flashlight. Suddenly blinded by the beam, he doubled back with a wince, shielding his eyes from the bright light.

Another figure joined the one on the hill, and they began making their way down towards him.

"Er- can ah help ye lads?" Soap asked, now on the defensive. The deer huffed against him, pushing her nose into his jacket.

"You found Dasher!" The other man exclaimed, like that explained everything.

"Sorry, what's a-?"

"Dasher!" The man in the hat gestured to the deer, who happily trotted up and pushed her nose into the man's hand.

"Well, seems like the lass found me... More than tha', my window." He gestured to the torn up screen with a grimace. "But ah was able to cut 'er out without too much trouble to 'er."

The first man with the flashlight was currently looking over the deer, quietly scolding it in Spanish. He had shorter black hair, and the beginnings of stubble on his tanned face, a carhart jacket zipped up to his throat.

The other man was older, wore a kind of a fishing hat, along with what Soap would consider an impressive amount of facial hair. It looked slightly similar to Alex, from the bakery, but that was where the similarities ended. Soap noticed he appeared to be doing the same thing as he was, searching for a threat. He recognized the look, after all, he saw the same thing in the mirror every day. A military man.

But the man in the hat spoke first.

"You Laswell's guy?" He barked out the words like they were an order, one that he fought against to comply.

"Aye, I am. Ah take it you're hers as well?" He countered, biting back any attitude that may have leaked the 'I'm not good with authority figures' that he couldbe held in his tone.

"You could say I'm an old friend." The man said, with the same amount of force. Soap had an inkling of a feeling that he would be good friends with this man. "John Price," he said, clicking off the flashlight and sticking out a hand.

"John MacTavish, but you can call me Soap, sir." Soap said with a tip of his head, shaking his hand. It was warm, rough and calloused, the hands of a working man.

"This is my right hand, Alejandro Vargas. He usually monitors the park during the night, but Dasher here seemed to have slipped through." Price continued as the other man, Alejandro, nodded at him.

"You name all the creatures out in yer park?" Soap asked.

"Dasher is more of a, eh... Mascot." Alejandro reasoned, trying to fit a harness over her head, but she was not having it, instead backing up and huffing at him, before retreating back over to Soap.

"Right, a deer for a Christmas town named Dasher. What happened to Rudolph?"

Alejandro bit a laugh. "Too similar to the vet. Besides, I see no red nose."

While Soap was trying to figure out why the vet was a deer named Rudolph, Dasher pressed her nose into the small of his back, nudging him forward.

"She seems to 'ave taken a liking to you." Price grumbled, the thick rasp of his voice giving Soap the idea that the man might smoke a few. "Mind helping us get 'er back to the park? Not a long way from here, promise."

Soap shrugged. He had nothing better to do. If Laswell trusted this guy, then he did too.

He found himself saying that a lot recently.

So, haphazardly, they began steering Dasher up through the hills, the warm lights of his cabin fading off into the distance as Dasher believed this was all again. She pranced around the lot of them, wiggling up to each of them, like she was trying to push them into the snow.

Soon, a barn came into view, and she stopped, her head jolting up, ears pricking as she looked around... like she was looking for a threat.

"Price, eyes up." Alejandro barked quietly, eyes careful and guarded. He pulled something from the belt of his jeans, which Soap immediately realized as a gun. A flash of relief flooded through him, quickly masked by worry.

"What's out here that she could see as a threat?" Soap asked, his voice hushed as he stepped closer to Dasher, figuring he was safer close to her, considering the only weapon he had was a kitchen knife he left on his windowsill.

"Lobos," Alejandro says. "Wolves. Or bears. Or other people."

Soap shivered. "What can-"

"Quiet now," Price hissed, taking a few steps back towards them, carefully surveying the trees around them. "We move together. On me."

You can remove the man from the military, but you can never remove the military from the man.

They hadn't moved ten feet, ushering Dasher along like she was precious cargo on a recon mission, before a scream of agony tore through the air, echoing over from the open windows of the barn.

Yeah. Just like the field.

Alejandro's face went deathly pale as his head whipped around to look. "Rudy!" He shouted, tearing off in the same direction as the scream had come from.

All at once, they snapped into action. Soap dodged for the reindeer, grabbing it by the scruff and tugging her along as Price's heavy footfalls led him through the darkness.

They left the reindeer in the yard, bolting for the large barn doors.

Alejandro was a decent few paces ahead of them, pushing through the doors, turning the corner and disappearing behind it.

It smelled like animals, but well kept ones. Not like a zoo, where the poor creatures are kept in their own filth, ones that weren't cared for. It was clear to him, in this moment, that these animals were very well loved, not just by the owners, but by the town. As he was running, his eyes picked up small drawings, or little cards written in a child's hand on the sides of the stalls where other reindeer were pacing.

At the end of the barn, in one of the very last stalls, was a bit of a gory sight. One of the reindeer had another man pinned to the wall with her antlers, and he was squirming, looking like he was trying his best not to scream. Her antlers went through one of his shoulders, and upon spotting them, his eyes went wide.

"D- Don't hurt her! Dios mio! She's calving, she can't help it!" He shouted at them, his green apron covered in blood. He had a soft nose and kind eyes, his hair was bedraggled, and his face looked to be a few shades paler than it should've been.

"What d'we do then!?" Soap shouted, grabbing Alejandro by the shoulders to pull him back from startling the creature even further.

"Just- ah- don't- we gotta wait for her t-"

A sharp snap filled the air, and everyone froze, hearts hammering in their chests. It sounded like the sickening crunch of a bone breaking, and no one moved for fear of something breaking inside of the poor man.

And then the antlers fell.

The man dropped to his knees as the reindeer backed up, and Price rushed to calm her as Alejandro went to the man's side, muttering in soft Spanish.

Soap joined Price in calming the creature, who seemed agonized. "He said she was calving?" He asked the older man frantically.

"Yeah, that means she's-"

"Having a bairn, ah ken! Let her rest, she's gotta ground herself, we can help 'er from there!" Soap commanded, and Price stepped into act. "Alejandro! How's he doing?"

"I'll be fine, señor! Just- just help Vixen!" The man on the ground said as Alejandro pressed against the wounds in his shoulder.

Vixen. Huh.

Less than a minute past, and Vixen, the reindeer, had lay on the ground, bleating. Her breaths were falling heavy, and Soap slowly crouched down in front of her, palms up to show he wasn't a threat. Gently, he brushed through the fur on top of her head. "That's a good girl, yeah? Just breathe, mama, ye got this, yer doon fine, that's a good lass...." He murmured, and her bleating grew softer.

A gentle silence enveloped the barn. "I need someone ta check ta see if the bairn's comin' out." He said quietly, still stroking Vixen's head.

The man from before pushed Alejandro away, after his shoulder was thoroughly covered enough to staunch the bleeding. "She's almost here." The man spoke quickly, with little shake to his voice. He still had a bit of a Mexican accent, but not as heavy as Alejandro's.

"Aye. Can you gently tug her legs? Very slow, ah dinnae want her ta get stuck." Soap said, before going back to comfort the poor reindeer.

Moments later, tiny bleating filled the air, and the man next to him cheered, holding the small thing before gently balancing it next to its mother and tugging Soap back.

The mother took to her young quickly, licking the rest of the gunk out of its fur, leaving it looking bedraggled and fluffy.

"Got any names, boys?" Price asked, stepping next to them slowly, and crossing his arms as he watched.

The other three men stood there, covered in hay, and blood, and afterbirth, glancing around at one another before Soap spoke up.

"Olive? I mean, ye got that reindeer song going, then it goes like "Olive, the other reindeer," y'know?" He asked, and Alejandro nodded, not having the heart to correct his lyrics.

"Olive-" Price snrked, before covering his mouth, and scratching through his beard. "Yeah, Olive is good."

Soap rubbed his knee.

Price eyed him before clapping his hands together. "Let's head into the house, we can get you lot cleaned up. C'mon, we'll check on em later."

Wordlessly, they followed after him.

Price had a... large house, to say the least. The ranch house was build up near the base of the mountains, shrouded in tall pines that grazed the skies. The lower windows were lit up, and Soap could see people moving about inside.

"Were you a vet, Soap?" Price asked as they walked up the pathways to the house.

"O un medico?" The man, who he now presumed to be 'Rudy' asked, sounding like he was biting back his words. Alejandro stood directly at his side, helping him up the paths, with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Nae, just my basics. My ma had a farm in the highlands where she kept sheep. Figured it couldn't be too different." Soap said with a shrug, wincing as he took another step. His brace was a bit stiff beneath his pants, and the cold nipped his ears, and boy, was he excited to get inside.

"Jack of all trades, then." Alejandro grumbled, pushing open the front door.

The interior of the house was very... campy. But it had a cozy kind of warmth to it, and Soap felt all the tension immediately slip from his bones as he was hit with a wave of exhaustion.

Price took off his bucket hat and hung it by the door, calling out, "We're back! And remember, we have guests, so I hope you're on your best behavior!"

The older man disappeared into the kitchen (that smelled heavenly, by the way) and returned with a tactical bag, unzipping it as he walked. "Let's get you into the dining room, we'll use the light in there to stitch you up." He said firmly, and the three kicked into gear.

Some of the voices they heard towards the livelier parts of the home died down as they left the foyer. Soap didn't want to pry. He really didn't. But some questions were just bubbling up, begging to be asked.

"Ye have kids, Price?" He asked, feeling a strange familiarity between the group he was with. Oh man, did he have things to tell Gaz tomorrow.

Price shot him a cautious look, but relaxed slightly. "I foster." He says simply, and turned to Rudy. "You wanna do this, or should I?"

"Ay coño-" Rudy breathed sharply through his nose, beginning to pull his shirt off, before slapping a hand to his mouth to muffle a cry of pain. Alejandro's hands seized forward in a second, murmuring something softly into the man's ear, before pulling off his shirt.

Soap suddenly felt very out of place, like he was intruding on something much, much more private.

"You better not be getting blood on my dining table, John Price." Said a very distinct, yet very familiar Russian tone.

Soap whirled around, eyes wide as he exclaimed, "Nik?"

And there was Nikolai in a very comfy looking sweater, and a 'Kiss the Cook' apron, suddenly startled at the amount of activity going on in his dining room. From an outsiders perspective, it could've been a horrifying sight: three men covered in blood, hay, and snow, crowding around another guy sitting on the table, with his shirt off, and also covered in blood.

But Nikolai was no regular stranger. Instead, he barked a laugh at their predicament, and turned to Soap. "Did they rope you in too?"

"Wha-? How are ye- do y'know th-?" Soap spluttered before Price sighed loudly, looking between Nikolai, Soap, then to Rudy, and back.

"Can we focus on one thing at a time, please?" Price asked, gesturing to Rudy, who was now trying to fight off a smirk despite being slightly in pain. Alejandro seemed to be making the same face along with him.

"Seemed to have found your way back alright, eh, MacTavish?" Nik asked, stepping into the room and clapping him on the back. Soap seemed to feel slightly relieved at knowing someone else here, but was still extremely confused as to how he fit in. "I hope my meddling husband did not cause trouble for you?"

And it clicked. There we go.

"Nik..." Price mumbled. "Men are bleeding out on your table."

"Okay, okay. Boys, there's a bathroom down the hall, and one right up the stairs to your left. They both have showers. Go clean yourself up, we will take care from here."

Soap didn't even question it, only wanted to get out of his nasty, sticky clothes. He looked to Price, who rolled his eyes and mouthed 'Go', before going back to work on Rodolfo, who gave him a weary smile.

Next thing he knew, he was in a stranger's shower.

Now, this was not the first time he's ended up in a stranger's shower. He had experience. And also, he was tired, and hungry. He wanted to go home and sleep. He wanted... He wasn't really sure what he wanted. The bathroom smelled nice, and the shower felt even nicer, as he washed the grime, blood, and cold away from his skin.

By the time he got out, the mirror was completely fogged up, even the tiles of the floor were warmed from the steam. The liveliness of the house had picked up outside, he heard, and he wrapped himself in a towel. His clothes were missing from the floor, which caused a slight panic, so he grabbed the nearest robe and shrugged it on as he dried out his mohawk.

The laughing and giggling got louder when he stuck his head out from the bathroom. "Oi! Price!" He hissed down the hall, and the laughter disappeared.

Three little heads poked out from behind the corner. They appeared to be young boys, the oldest no more than 8.

The taller one, also presumably the oldest, had short cropped dark hair and bright eyes full of mischief. The one in the middle had fluffy light brown hair, and kinder green eyes. And the youngest one, still enough of a baby face, he appeared to be around five, unable to conceal a wide smile on his face. He was blond with brown eyes that were very hidden in his smile.

"Ye lot! Gimme mah stuff, ye little gremlins!" He hissed, and one by one, the disappeared, running down the hall.

Now usually, it's frowned upon to chase after children in a robe, and really, this felt like a movie locker room situation, where the bullies took his clothes while he was in the showers- lord. He was being bullied by children.

The children were bolting towards the kitchen, a separate garment in each of their hands.

"Git back here-!" He growled at them, slipping on the carpet, before grabbing the corner of the hall and launching himself to try and catch them, and they turned, and-

The kitchen was dead silent, all four adults, and three children staring at him, dressed in only a robe.

"Boys!" Price said firmly, and the children froze, turning to stare at him. "We've talked about this!"

Meanwhile, Alejandro was trying to hide a laugh behind his hand, and failing, horribly. Soap's face was burning as he crossed his arms over himself.

Price stood and the kids bolted, scattering throughout the house. "Nik-! They'll listen to you!"

"You know they will not, мое солнышко." Nik laughed. "Soap, come with me, brother, I'll give you some of John's things."

This was mortifying. Now back in the kitchen, and much more appropriately dressed, he was now avoiding eye contact with the three boys that were still taunting him, just to a much lesser degree.

"Alejandro, where did Rodolfo and Price go?" He asked, over the sizzling of something good on the stove. In their absence, Nik had invited them to stay for dinner, the least he could do when one of his ranch hands got speared by a reindeer.

He learned that the ranch hands called themselves Vaqueros, or Cowboys, which he thought was fitting. They were around for the winters, but went back to a town called Los Almas in the warmer months where they were dearly missed, but they had duty to that town, and everyone understood the call. They were very nice, and the whole place was very homey, something he'd missed in the military.

The boys, he'd learned, were three of the fosters. Their names went from oldest to youngest, Keegan, the tall one who had orchestrated the plan to steal his clothes, then David, who was more shy, but very headstrong (and the one who Kickstart the plan), and finally Logan, the youngest, who was David's biological brother, who gave them away.

They'd had Keegan longest, around three years, and the other two they'd fostered after their father went missing in action. But they were practically inseparable since they had met, which warmed his heart some. He missed his sisters.

"They went out to the barn to check on the little one." Alejandro supplied. "Rudy is.... well, he's usually the vet, but he may be, er, out of commission for a little bit."

"Mandated leave?" Soap wiggled his eyebrows at him and Alejandro rolled his eyes.

"Permiso obligatorio, tu pendejo!" He laughed, waving him off.

There was some commotion towards the front door, and Nik straightened, pulling something out of the oven. "Must be them. Back just in time!" He said happily, and Soap slid out of his seat.

"'M gonnae go see if the bairn's doin' okay!" He said excitedly, before darting out towards the front door.

Fidgeting with the cuff of Price's sweater that he now wore (it was so comfy), he started speaking even before he turned the corner. "Hope the wee one's doin' okay, Price! Ah was gonna ask if ah could come ta check on 'er, but-"

Suddenly he ran into something very firm, and very unmoving, and for half a second he feared he walked into a wall. He took a step back, apologizing, before looking up.

And stared directly into the wide, honey-colored eyes of the stranger he met at the store.

The stranger he now knew as Simon Riley.

Taglist(open): @neonanarchystudios @rai-to209

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