cod oneshots n imagines ✨

in another life (x reader, soap, price)

Hi again 💀 sorry for my untimely disappearance, i had an exam and a lot of shifts so my free time was limited for a while there but i'm back on the grind until further notice 😌 this was a request from @cereal1257! you ask n i deliver, of course. This does contain ⚠️spoilers⚠️ for the mission Blood Brothers in the MW3 campaign so if you haven't played it yet (which is unlikely but not impossible) consider yourself warned.

This fr is a sad and detrimental part to the storyline tho so like, be ready to have your feelings hurt (not funny, cried)

all jokes! but please, enjoy (if possible 😩)

for legal reasons, i don't take credit for any dialogue used in game

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The cold, crisp air clung to my fingers and my grip on the rifle stiffened as the warmth of my breath created small clouds in the sky. These were the final moments of the Ultranationalists terroristic reign, but it didn't feel like it. For every win there is a loss, I knew that. But the amount of defeats we'd accumulated up to now - the loss of our own - Ghost and Roach - and the Delta squad - caused a rift in our trust for each other and in ourselves and it's safe to say that my father - man of the year - Captain Price, was less than impressed with the turn of events. But it wouldn't have been the first, or last time for that matter, we were accompanied by the allegiance of outcasted ex-members now would it? In fact, it would be Kamarov taking the lead in this particular mission, and it was his marker that we waited for upon this very rooftop. Where my palms grew sweaty, my stomach turned and heart beat felt faster. Sweating in anticipation for the event that could ultimately make or break the course of this entire campaign.

  This wasn't, however, like any other. Only the best of the best were participants. Highly decorated - recommend - and outlawed individuals were invited to the all out chaos that would consume this city, taking names and more importantly; bodies. This wasn't going to be in and out, the bloodshed and outcry of two divided nations would inevitably paint the streets red, and not in honour of the Ultranationalist regime. We were all but pawns and victims to the schemes of this so-called leadership - the same "leaders" who had one-time-use soldiers for their dirty work - made certain that the consumption was felt internationally. The crimes against us, the middle east, and all the way to the west had been said and done but would never be forgotten. It wasn't just about us anymore, but it was sure to end with us.

Over the radio, Soap - my lifelong "friend" and partner in good crime - communicated with my father about the mission details. My dearest situationship, long sought after lover and confidant. Older, carrying much more experience than myself and standing a grand 6 feet, 2 inches tall, he was still my baby bear. On the job we were nothing more than good friends who cared a little too much for the other, like a mentorship sort of thing. Back at base, dressed in our matching fatigues, we shared a cigar in the pale moonlight and had long, drawn out conversations about everything and nothing at all, until dark impressions made their way under our bloodshot eyes. They way my eyes fluttered to sleep, resting softly on his chest and stolen kisses in the dark was our best kept secret. For if he found out about us, I can't predict how well the exposure would go over. He would either be elated, screaming from the rooftops and proudly professing our new found relationship with one another, relieved I'd chosen someone worthy of his and my time. Knowing I would be in good hands in the event of his demise. Or, backhandedly, he wouldn't be anything but flustered at the preposterous idea that two colleagues were anything but. And that was the thing, it was him and I that were merely colleagues. Not him and my father, oh no. They were more than aquatinted upon the arrival of my existence. If you hadn't known any better, you'd swear they were related and it was actually him that was his child, not me. However, it wasn't to say that my father and I weren't close. Losing a loved one brings the ones left in despair closer and we were two peas in a pod. I never left his eyesight, even when I myself couldn't see him. He's just like that.