cristaq

[cristaq]

Would you consider writing more x reader stuff.... I liked the ones you wrote a lot

Hi there!! Sorry for the (very) late reply, but yes! I have been thinking about writing x male!reader again (god knows there is not enough of it out there). If you do have specific ideas in mind, do share them!! My plans involved even some out of CoD fandom writings but yeah there just ideas at the moment.

[cristaq]

“Ouch, you muppet!”

“Why did you put your fucking foot there?”

The dance instructor tries to figure out if the pair is getting married or divorced.

Price sighs in frustration. They must have been here for at least 3 hours, trying to memorise the steps and “feeling” the rhythm, whatever the fuck that means. This is their 4th such session of practising their grooms’ dance and if you were to ask either of them, they would much rather be deployed back into an active warzone than being here.

Soap tries to approach the older man with an extended hand. “Ok, let’s give it another shot, I think maybe if we…”

Price cuts him off and goes to rest on a chair. “Just… I need a fucking a break.”

Soap sighs, arms crossed over his chest, giving the instructor a pleading look. He gets the message and gives the soon to be married couple a moment of privacy.

He pulls another chair next to Price and tries to find the right words. The wedding preparations have been an extremely stressful endeavour for both of them. Price is pinching his moustache, his obvious tell that he is frustrated. He is the first one to speak.

“I’m sorry for lashing out. I truly want to give you and your family this beautiful moment, but maybe we are just shit at it.”

Soap grabs his lover’s hand with a smile. “I want to give ourselves a beautiful moment. It’s our fucking wedding after all.” And the younger brilliant man is struck by another brilliant idea. “Come on, let’s try again. Trust me on this one.”

He runs to the music controls to play a song of his choosing, which immediately puts a smile on Price’s face. Such a gorgeous smile, Soap thinks.

(This is the song I had in mind during this scene.)

They meet in the centre of the dance room and assume positions. Price rests his hand on Soap’s shoulder, given the fact that Soap is taller. He would never dare to say it out loud, but Price always enjoyed being the shorter one. Soap’s hand goes for the small of Price’s back, pulling him close to his chest.

They start swaying, a bit awkwardly at first, mostly because Price still tries to focus on some carefully planned movements.

“Eyes on me love…” Soap’s voice is barely audible and Price obeys. Worries melt away, expectations disappear and their bodies are finally in sync, moving around the dance floor. Soap gets a bit daring and tries to spin Price and to his surprise he accepts and actually chuckles!

It’s a bit like combat really. Trusting your partner, accepting to be led and then to lead yourself. You just replace the danger of losing your life with being stepped on. And this loose sense of authority and power exchange is beautifully displayed by the pair. It’s a playful fight, where Price pulls in a certain direction and Soap follows. But right after Soap imposes a new rhythm and speed to their movements. I trust you, you trust me.

It’s rare to see these two scarred men smiling like this. They look proud of their love. And now that most inhibitions are out the window, they start getting a bit silly, maybe even cringy for an outside observer with their moves. But man they seem to be having so much fun, stupid fun, the kind that reminds the world they are just boys beneath their rough exterior.

“Ready for a dip?” Soap says. Worry flashes for a moment over Price’s face, but Soap doesn’t wait for an answer. Price yelps and grabs Soap's strong arms until it hurts, but he doesn’t fall.

Pulling him back up, Soap is panting from the effort, but he looks proud of himself. As a reward, Price pulls him close, their lips crashing in a desperate kiss.

“Never do that again, muppet.” His tone is serious but his smile betrays different emotions. “Not without permission anyway.”

“Yes sir!” Soap doesn’t hide his smirk. “I can’t wait to marry you…” He captures his soon to be husband’s lips with hunger.

[cristaq]

Price collapses to the ground as soon as he gets off the helicopter. Finally out of danger, his brain gets to properly shut down after all that grueling time spent in the gulag. He still feels cold though… Maybe he will always feel like that.

Soap rushes to his side and lifts him up, one arm under his legs and the other supporting Price’s back, and he is instantly taken aback by how little force he needs to put into his actions. Price feels so… light. Malnutrition ravaged the man’s body, now limp in Soap’s arms. And even though the situation calls for immediate action, Soap takes a moment to finally look at the man he missed so much. There wasn’t much time for this during their escape from the Petropavlovsk gulag.

Price’s cold cheek rests on the younger man’s shoulder now, eyes closed with dark circles underneath, chapped lips slightly parted. There are new scars and cracks over the features Soap spent countless hours memorising. His beard is unkept with sprinkles of dried blood here and there.

Soap brings his lost lover closer to his chest, with Price’s now thin frame being almost entirely covered by Soap’s arms. He will make everything alright again. He will kill everyone responsible for this. Anger, pain, fear, grief, love… Soap wants to lay down and cry. He wants to hold Price in his arms and cleanse all the blood and wounds with his tears.

Instead, he manages to command his legs to rush towards the infirmary, with other soldiers and Roach behind him. In all this chaos, while battling a myriad of emotions, something manages to prevail. Hope blooms in the young captain’s heart, making the darkness shy away.

He missed Price so incredibly much and now he is finally back. And all other circumstances are irrelevant.

[cristaq]

I MISS him

This is everything I aspire to in terms of drawing

captain soap mactavish come back home the kids miss u

[cristaq]

your writing is like fresh cold watermelon on a hot day i swear to g/d

Shakespeare level compliments... thank you so much this means the world😭 I'm so happy to know that someone enjoys my writing enough to compare me to watermelon (I love watermelon especially during summer)

[cristaq]

Cristaq !!!! My beloved cristaq !!!!! I am holding your head in my hands and staring you in the eyes !!!!

I have just starting reading your fic 'lovers in arms' and I am so insane !!!!!

Just finished chapter 2 and ough omg- I cannot wait to read your other works after this one I love the way you write Soap n price they're so.... they're so !!!!!!!

Um. Anyway. That's all !!! Just wanted to say I love your writing :3:3:3

- @sgt-bluesummers

Thank you so much this is too kind my friend😭😭 messages like these give me LIFE so thank you again. I hope you enjoy lovers in arms, atm I hit a bit of a block so it has only 6 chapters but don't worry I will come back to it. Life's been a bit busy too.

So thank you for the third time now for interacting and enjoy❤️

[cristaq]

“You are pretty,” Soap says with a stupid smirk and boops Price’s nose, his hand pierced by IV needles. 

He is laid down on a hospital bed, courtesy of another near-death experience, and it seems that the anaesthetics haven’t completely worn off.

“Do you have a wife, mister?” Soap stumbles over his own words, his speech resembling the ramblings of a drunk man.

Price blushes and his eyes widen in surprise, but regains his composure immediately, blaming the anaesthetics for Soap’s brain fog. The two have been together for quite some time now, but he decides to entertain him though. “Nah, I couldn't find a woman willing to put up with all my shit.”

“For such a pretty face, I would be willing to put up with a lot of your shit.” Soap looks like he has a hard time stringing all these words together. “‘Course, I am not a lass so that’s a pity,” he mumbles with a shrug, which manages to get a snort out of Price. In a weird way, it’s nice to finally see Soap relaxed and void of inhibitions.

He takes Soap’s hand and gives it a light squeeze. “Maybe I could give you a chance…”

The face Soap makes looks like he’s just been shot, his cheeks all flustered. “Maybe a guy like you could finally handle all of this.” Price winks and Soap stutters for a second and this time the anaesthetic is not the only cause.

“Whatever you say, pretty man…” Eventually though, sleep overpowers Soap once again. Price stays there, watching over the love of his life, excited to tease him about this episode once he wakes up.

[cristaq]

Why yes, I think about this on an hourly basis thank you for asking!!

I think this scenario works great the other way around too. Soap seeing Price looking like a mess, malnourished, beard untrimmed. Yet the moment they lock eyes, all of Price's features beam with excitement and hope. Soap sees through all this hurting, recognising the man he loves and he is ready to make everything right again. Despite everything, they are still each other's North Star. Despite everything, he is still Price.

do you ever think price had a reaction when after all that time had passed of him being in the gulag, despite all that had changed and the ways that soap had clearly changed, soap still had that silly mohawk

"despite everything its still you" except its about your slightly-too-close subordonate and his probably-rule-breaking haircut

idk man, im thinking about them again... maybe ill write a paragraph or smth im forever insane for these old men

[cristaq]

Price with the journal and Soap with the gun is killing me. Put these two in a museum

[cristaq]

Soap truly is non-stop. He is so Hamilton coded.

He trains and he studies and he fights, with no notion of breaks or personal time. One stripe makes him a private, three make him a sergeant, but only the loss of his lover makes him a captain.

Price is worried sick, because he can see so much of himself in Soap’s wit. Flames like him burn bright and fast, but our bodies are simply not built to last. Ambition is just the flint, the spark, but is there enough gas in the tank? Will he make it to your thirties, despite his rank?

So yeah, MacTavish, why do you fight like you're running out of time? Train day and night like you’re running out time? Everyday you fight like you’re running out of time.

[cristaq]

“If you are reading this Mac, it means I am dead. It also means that you still are a nosy bastard.”

Captain MacMillan slowly makes his way through the WW3 remembrance monument. Thousands of ceremonial tombstones riddle the landscape, demanding silence and respect. This is a place where only ghosts may speak.

“I guess there is not much to say that you don’t already know. Assaulting Makarov’s place was intentionally reckless and I went there with the expectation that I would die. I wanted to die. I couldn’t survive the peaceful times that were to come without him, Mac. Loved him too fucking much. So, in a sense, you were right. He was the death of me in the end.”

He eventually reaches his destination. Row 11, column 85.

 “I will get to the point. Unfortunately for you, I must call in any favours you still owe me. Firstly, I suppose they never found Soap’s body. Burn mine then, and scatter what’s left. I will do the rest and find him on my own.”

All tombstones in the monument bear the name of a soldier, but this one’s special as it has two names hyphenated on it. John MacTavish - John Price.

“Secondly, pull whatever strings you need to, but make sure that wherever they decide to write down our names, they are placed together. His name should always come first.”

The media covered this story for a whole month. The same peculiarity can be found on the clock tower in Hereford, where the names of fallen SAS soldiers are placed. Everyone’s name stands written alone, except for these two.

“Lastly, I don’t want you to miss us. So name one of your grandkids John, will you?”

He lights up a candle and places it on the warm stone.

“I wasn’t one to believe in the afterlife. Soap managed to convince me though… and I intend to find him there. That’s my happy ending. Thanks for everything and take care.

Price”

Two robins land on the headstone, chirping and hopping. It’s truly a beautiful day outside. Somehow, MacMillan truly believes that the two men are reunited up there somewhere.

[cristaq]

Sooo I might sound like a broken record but I love interacting with people over pricesoap and games in general. Imagine my excitement when I found out that there is a discord server for the og pricesoap!! If anyone wants to join please do!!

[cristaq]

Some old og pricesoap sketches that tumblr has not yet seen

[cristaq]

Price being conscious about his bald spot and age, especially when he and Soap try to enjoy a night out. The waiter is younger and has a killer smile. Lucky him, he never had to take a bullet for anyone. Literally. And Soap catches on immediately, since Price is wearing a damn beanie inside a restaurant.

“I think you could use a break. Let’s go to the bathroom. Now.” Sometimes, the only language Price speaks is roughness and dominance. Soap can read Price’s boiling anger, and, behind it, the cry for help to open up and be vulnerable. He can’t hide anything after all these years.

Behind the locked door of a restroom, Price feels cornered. Fighting for survival in the gulag suddenly felt like a more manageable situation than this one. Soap carefully approaches and caresses Price's face, who just closes his eyes, letting his insecurities melt away. He doesn’t even feel when the beanie falls off.

“After almost dying for each other a million times now, do you think this will get rid of me? If anything, it makes you that much hotter.”

Price snorts and shakes his head in disbelief. “You are so full of shit that…”

But Soap’s already on his knees, working Price’s belt. “I love proving you wrong just as much as I love you.”

In Soap’s eyes, that bald spot says “We got to grow old together. We got to survive the war.” Not everyone had that luxury. Not everyone gets to have wrinkles and complain about joints. Price does, somehow, and Soap is forever grateful for it. It’s a small crack of vulnerability in the image of a man that faced the end of the world and lived to tell the tale.

He knows far too many people that never got to grow old.

[cristaq]

“Catch!” Price throws the lighter into the air for Soap. He catches it and lights up his cigarette. Everyone forgets their lighter from time to time, right?

***

“Here you go.” Price passes his lighter to Soap and their hands touch for a brief moment. The small flame projects dancing warm colours on the younger man’s face.

***

“Let me…” Price says, snapping the flint wheel as his other hand shields the flame from the wind. Soap steadies Price’s grip by cupping his hands and leans in to light his cigarette. Huh, weird. Soap is not usually a forgetful man with most things, except for his lighter apparently.

***

“Come here…” With a lit cigar resting between his lips, Price leans closer to Soap until the tips of their cigars meet. Taking a deep draw, the glowing embers manage to ignite the other cigar. One of these days he will buy Soap a lighter.

***

“Do you have a lighter, old man?” Soap teases, a devilish smile plastered on his face. It was always a ruse, wasn’t it? Forgetting the lighter? Price rolls his eyes, takes a drag, and kisses the man with force and need, sharing the smoke between them.

[cristaq]

Yuri: “So, what’s you love language?”

Soap: “As I was bleeding out on the burning sands of Afghanistan, with a knife buried deep in my abdomen, I heard Price struggling to release himself from Shepherd’s hold. Fueled by anger and love, I grabbed the knife and pulled it out of my body, the pain so excruciating that I almost passed out. Then, I threw it and landed a bullseye, killing Shepherd and saving Price. Despite that, I still hold on to the belief that I will never be able to settle the debt I owe him for saving me over and over again in the past. It’s a perpetual cycle of us saving each other and never believing it’s enough. He is my entire world and the love of my life. Anyways, what about you?”

Yuri: “I… I guess it’s acts of service? I… I don’t…”

[cristaq]

This belongs to you, sir.