#cod soap mactavish

[sterifels-blog]

The bar hummed.

Not with the dissonance of an overworked Friday night crowd, but with a rhythm— a syncopated lull of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of boisterous cheering when someone’s dart hit the bullseye. It was warm, sticky almost, like honey had been dripped down every surface, trapping in the smell of spilled beer and aged whiskey. The air carried the distant tang of cigarette smoke, though none lingered inside. It made your stomach twist in an odd, pleasant way, a little drunken from the atmosphere alone.

The team had claimed their usual corner—far back, beneath the buzzing amber light of a burnt-out neon beer sign. Soap was sprawled out like a prince, one leg hooked over the other with his foot tapping to some unheard tune. Gaz and Price sat across from him, the former grinning as he recounted a story of some poor rookie who’d locked himself in an armory closet. Simon loomed behind them like a sentry, nursing his drink and watching the room with those hawk-like eyes that saw too much and said too little.

Johnny, though?

Johnny was... three sheets to the wind.

“Ma, ma,” he slurred in a sing-song tone, leaning impossibly close to your side as he threw an arm around you. His brogue was thick, dripping like molasses and positively singeing with fondness. “You’ve not touched yer drink, aye? Yer gonna make me look soft.”

You laughed, elbowing him lightly. “I think you’re doing that just fine on your own, Johnny.”

That earned you a cheeky grin, teeth bright and dangerous, a wolf hiding in the skin of a man. His hair was a mess, brown tufts sticking out in every direction from his mohawk like he’d wrestled the devil himself and come out victorious. The scent of him was heady— sharp cologne softened by the musk of sweat and something more personal, like pine needles crushed underfoot. His arm stayed firm around your shoulders, fingers tapping absently against the sleeve of your jacket.

It was nice. Until it wasn’t.

The man appeared out of nowhere, too close, too fast, his breath already warm on your cheek before you even registered him. He was tall, broad in a way that suggested he thought himself larger than he really was. His smile was wrong, too sharp, and it twisted his face into something almost predatory.

“Hey there,” he drawled, voice slick with an oil-slick confidence. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I couldn’t help noticing you from across the room.”

Johnny stiffened at your side, his arm tightening until it was less casual and more territorial. Like a line in the sand. Like the man had stepped too far into his space—into your space.

“Dinnae bother,” Johnny said, voice low and dangerous despite the slur softening his edges. “She’s wi’ me.”

The man laughed, an awful sound that made your skin crawl. “Is she, now? Doesn’t look like she’s yours.”

Before you could even process what was happening, Johnny had shifted. His other arm snaked around your waist, fingers gripping the denim of your jeans like it was the only thing anchoring him. He pulled you flush against him, chest puffed out as he fixed the man with a glare that could have sent a lesser person running.

“Listen, pal,” he began, the words dripping with sarcasm and venom all at once. “Ahm gonnae make this real simple fer ye. Ye see this bonnie lass? This one right here?” He gestured toward you, fingers flexing against your hip. “She’s mine. No’ yers. So why dinnae ye take yer wee, pathetic excuse of a chat-up line an’ bugger off, aye?”

The man faltered, his confidence visibly wavering under Johnny’s intensity. But he wasn’t smart enough to quit while he was ahead. “Didn’t realize she needed a babysitter,” he sneered.

“Oh, ye didnae?” Johnny barked out a laugh, wild and sharp-edged. “Well, now ye know. An’ if ye dinnae get yer arse outta here in the next five seconds, I’ll be yer feckin’ babysitter, too.”

The man hesitated, eyes darting between the two of you. Then, finally, he raised his hands in mock surrender- a scoff rumbling in his throat, and slunk off into the crowd.

Johnny exhaled sharply, his grip on you loosening just enough to let you breathe. But he didn’t let go.

“You alright, ma?” he asked, voice softer now, though his words were still thick with drunken affection.

“I’m fine, Johnny,” you murmured, looking up at him. “You didn’t have to—”

“Aye, I did,” he interrupted, eyes boring into yours with a sincerity that made your breath hitch. “Nobody messes wi’ you. Nobody.”

And just like that, the tension broke. He grinned again, that wolfish, mischievous smile that made your heart do flips.

“Now, where’s yer drink?” he asked, dragging you back toward the table. “Can’t have ye lookin’ sober while I’m out here makin’ a damn fool of meself.”

Price raised an eyebrow as the two of you returned, but he didn’t say a word. Simon, however, smirked behind his mask, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “About time.”

[dirtfullofwork]

09!mactavish! ＼(^_^)／

This man is so cute! I try to make his structure accurate, this thicker lips, butt chin, ect but it was so worth it heheheh (。^。^。) ♥️ ♥️ and like I said in my last post ima focus on OG! Modern warfare art here and there!

Reblogs would be appreciated

Luv you!

[random-thot-generator]

Dirty Little Secret + pt. 3

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH x FEM READER

-

Summary: Johnny shows up out of the blue and gets to meet Aunt Rue. Cue the impromptu come-to-Jesus meeting.

Warnings/Tags: Angst - obviously, Profanity, Sex is mentioned but nothing explicit, Soap's POV, Rue's POV, Reader is taking a moment, Aunt Rue's a good mum, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Again, no smut. We're not there yet, folks. Wanted to get Johnny's side of the story out there, along with Aunt Rue's thoughts on the matter. Just a warning. Edited this to Kickstart My Heart on loop, so if there's a shit-ton of mistakes... my bad. 🤷‍♀️)

Word Count: 2K

-

Johnny felt like the wind had been knocked out of him when he heard your voice behind the counter, but when you suddenly popped into view, it almost brought him to his knees. The only thing that kept him from reaching for you was that horrible, devastated expression on your face. Tucking his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking, he took a hesitant step towards the counter, as if approaching a cornered, wild animal.

"I'm no' here t'cause ye grief, hen," he murmured, trying to make eye contact. "I jus' wanted t'see ya."

You blinked up at him, huffing a breath out of your open mouth. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again," you confessed, sounding dazed. "How did you…?"

Johnny scratched the back of his neck, feeling like a bit of a creeper. "I, uh… I saw ye on the news. Some sort o' festival 'r somethin'."

"The May Day celebration," you mumbled, remembering the news cameraman panning his camera along the row of booths on the boardwalk. "Bloody hell. So… you saw me and just decided to stop by for a visit? After six months?"

Johnny's look turned sour. "It was no' like I knew where the hell ye'd gone off to, now was it? Ye jus' took off without sayin' a bloody word," he replied, his tone low and accusing.

You scoffed, your own expression growing dark. "And how could I have told you, Johnny? It's not like you ever bothered to give me your number, remember?" you fired back.

The bitterness in your tone cooled his anger instantly. "I…" He huffed out a breath, shoulders slumping. "Yer right. Tha's on me." His contrite expression returned. "It was jus' a shock, comin' back an' findin' ya gone, yer flat empty. I was no' expectin' it. Not after…" He blew out a breath, running his hand over his mohawk. "I dinnae ken wha' t'think."

You crossed your arms over your chest, lips trembling. "I'm surprised you thought of me at all. Why did you even go back to my flat? Things not work out with your other bird?"

"Other bird?" he repeated, scowling, looking utterly confused.

Before you could clarify, your aunt pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Whatever she was about to say died on her lips as her eyes darted between you and Johnny. "Everything alright, love?" she asked you.

"Everything's fine." You dragged your eyes away from him to address your aunt, your tone softening. "I'm sorry 'bout your tea. The box was empty, and then he showed up, and…" You sighed, closing your eyes, shoulders dropping in defeat. "I— I need to go back to the stockroom. Maybe there's another box of oolong back there."

Picking up on the obvious tension and your need to escape the young man, Aunt Rue patted your arm affectionately. "'Course, love. Go ahead. I'll see t'him."

You gave a slight nod, eyes slanting towards Johnny for only a second, but then your chin gave a wobble, and you rushed through the swinging door. He called after you, taking an unconscious step forward, hand reaching out, but you didn't stop. A pained expression crossed his face before he turned and paced a few steps away, raising both hands to rub over his head, holding them there as he blew out a frustrated breath.

Rue pursed her lips, studying him before her eyes cut back to the kitchen door. "So, I take it ya know one another," she drawled.

Johnny turned back around, dropping his arms to his sides. He looked like a whipped pup. "Yes, ma'am. We were… She was my…" A myriad of emotions played over his face before he sighed, remorse evident in his eyes. "Aye. We know each other."

Rue smirked, brows lifting. "I see." She turned to the hot water urns and grabbed a couple of to-go cups. "Tea or coffee, lad?"

Johnny blew out a frustrated sigh. "Dinnae bother, ma'am. I should prob'ly jus' go. Sorry t'have bothered—"

Rue snorted, amused. "Ya ain't gettin' off that easy, lad. Been dealin' with that heartbroken lass for six months. I've got questions, an' you're just the one to answer 'em. So. Tea or coffee?"

Johnny opened his mouth to refuse but didn't have it in him to argue. "Coffee, please. Black with sugar," he mumbled.

Rue hummed in acknowledgment, making them both a strong cup, forgetting about the oolong. She needed all cylinders firing for this one. As she worked, Red finally showed, cheerful as always. He gave Johnny a friendly nod, opening his mouth to greet Rue, but she cut him off.

"No time for chit-chat this mornin', Red," she told him, throwing a couple of rolls into a bag and handing them over. She reached beneath the counter and grabbed his favorite jam packets, then rounded the counter to hand them to him. "On the house, yeah?" she said, ignoring his shocked expression. "Off ya go, then. See ya tomorrow."

Red could do little more than nod as Rue herded him out the door, casting a flummoxed look back as she shut the door and locked it behind him. Reaching for the cups she left sitting on the counter, she handed one to Johnny.

"C'mon, lad. Let's go out back an' have ourselves a wee chinwag."

She led the way to the back exit, checking to be sure you were still inside before motioning him out the door. Walking over to a pair of metal folding chairs leaned against the wall, she grabbed one, nodding for Johnny to take the other, then sat down with a tired sigh. Once, they were both seated, she crossed her legs and looked him over with a critical eye.

"Alright, then. First things first, lad. I'm Rue, her aunt, and you are…"

"John, ma'am. John MacTavish, but ye can call me Johnny."

She nodded, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "Well, it's nice t'meet ya, Johnny." She took a quick sip of coffee and smacked her lips. "Now, let's get down t'brass tacks, shall we?" She sat back and crossed her arms over her lap. "I'm goin' to take a wild guess an' say you're the reason why my girl came runnin' home with her tail between her legs. Not seen her in that bad a shape since her da dumped her on my doorstep, so it must have been serious. How long were ya together?"

Taken aback, it took a moment for Johnny to answer. "I been seein' her fer almost two years, but we were no'… I mean, it wasnae…" He huffed a frustrated breath and scrubbed his hand over his 'hawk. "It's— It's complicated."

Rue rolled her eyes, making a scoffing noise. "Bloody hell, this generation, I swear…" She shook her head. "Just say ya were fuckin', lad. Jesus." She scoffed again. "Complicated, he says…" she muttered.

Johnny gaped at her, surprised by her blunt words. His brows furrowed, an embarrassed look on his reddening face. "It was no' jus' fuckin'," he muttered, sounding defensive. "I cared 'bout her— do care 'bout her."

"Uh-huh. So, what happened, then? What would send my girl runnin' back to the one place she worked so hard to escape, hm?"

His lips parted, but he didn't have an answer. Eyes darting back and forth, he searched for an explanation, a reason why you would just up and leave him without saying anything. He thought it might have been another bloke, but after that last night together, he couldn't bring himself to believe it. So, why? Why did you leave? He had been searching for that answer for the last six months. Finally, he settled for repeating your confusing words from earlier. "She said somethin' 'bout another bird," he said glumly. "Dunno wha' the hell she's talkin' 'bout."

Rue's brows ticked up. "Sure about that? You're a handsome lad. Doubt ya have trouble pullin' the birds."

"No!" he snapped. "I'd never che—." He cut himself off, gritting his teeth in frustration. "There was no other bird," he grumbled out.

His hand clenched into a fist, the other warping the to-go cup, some of the hot brew spilling over his knuckles. Cursing under his breath, he set it on the ground, slinging the hot liquid off his hand. He glared at the back of his hand, then huffed a tired breath, his expression softening. "I dinnae want anyone else. Jus' her." He shook his head, looking lost.

Rue studied him, her head tilting to the side. "She never mentioned you, ya know? Never once spoke your name. I knew she was hurtin'— obviously, but there was somethin' about the way she looked when I'd try to bring it up, like she was... ashamed. 'Course, we've all been fools for love, so I figured some bloke had filled her head with a bunch of pretty words, promisin' her the moon an' stars, then broke her heart, but…" Her eyes narrowed. "Explain to me what 'complicated' means."

A look akin to the shamed face you would always give her now came over his. He started picking at one of his cuticles, studying it with keen interest, his bottom lip jutting out a little.

"When we first started hookin' up, it wasnae a big deal. We'd run into each other at the pub an' end up back at her place." He shrugged but then paused, his eyes growing solemn. "But then, somethin' changed. I'd catch m'self thinkin' 'bout her, like all the bloody time, while I was deployed. Then I'd come home an' find m'self goin' back t'tha' same damn pub, hopin' t'see her, gettin' pissed when she was no' there." He sighed, shook his head. "I finally gave up pretendin' it was jus' a hook up, an' started goin' over t'her place when I was on leave."

"So, you're a soldier, then," Rue said softly.

A grim look pulled the corners of his mouth down. "Aye. A sergeant in the Army. Special forces." He frowned, an inner struggle going on inside his head. "I ken 's no' the best job t'have, no' when ya got a lass waitin' fer ya at home. 'S hard t'make it work, bein' gone so much. Most birds canna hack it, end up callin' it quits. Figured I'd come home one day an' she'd be shacked up wi' some other bloke. Thought that might'a been wha' happened, but... I had t'see fer m'self." A sad expression made his eyes look luminous in the morning sun. "Tol' m'self I should leave her be, let 'er go, but I canna do it."

He sighed, leaned back in his chair and scrubbed at the scruff on his cheek. "I never tol' her how I felt, dinnae think it was fair puttin' tha' on her. Tried no' t'crowd her, dinnae hang about her place, makin' a nuisance o' m'self. Thought I was protectin' her, but it was jus' as much fer me, I guess. Dinnae help."

Rue's heart went out to the poor lad, despite how bloody stupid he was. "Could ya not tell that she loved ya, lad?"

Johnny's brows shot up, his mouth falling open. "She… She loves me?"

Rue sniffed a laugh. "Bloody hell, you really are an eejit, aren't ya?" She shook her head, amazed at how clueless he was. "'Course she loves ya, ya daft numpty." Her eyes grew shrewd as she watched him process the revelation, saw the hope bloom in his eyes.

"So, tell me, Johnny boy. What are ya willin' to do to get her back?"

-

part 2 part 4

[weirdwizardofoz]

Y/N: Hey cap?

Price: Yeah?

Y/N: How long can someone breathe in a washing machine while it’s running?

Price: Now, why would you wanna know that, kid?

Y/N:

Price:

Price: WHERE’S SOAP?!

[partiallysame]

Being Price’s lil wife

-Task force 141 knew Price was married. Man wore his ring religiously, always putting it back on the second they were in the helicopter/plane/whatever after each mission

-He’d come to work with a lunch packed with a cute lil heart note

-To be honest they all assumed you were the same age as Price (old) He always said he’d been “married for years” (3)

-They never knew your name, Price only ever referred to you as The Missus

-Gaz swore Price had a photo of you in his wallet (he did) but they never knew what you looked like untilllllllll

-You called your husband simply to complain. The AC had gone out and the repair man wouldn't be able to get there for a couple days. No no this simply would not do, his perfect lil lady could not be uncomfortable in her own home he wouldn’t have it but fuck he’s out of the country for a few more days. His team however is not and while stupid, they do know how to do maintenance work (why? Just because.)

-He called his team for a very important mission. Gave them the address, accompanied with “I don’t want to hear a fucking thing about you causing any trouble or being disrespectful to the Missus you hear?” The boys were absolutely giddy to finally see the ever so important Missus.

-The second you opened the door Soap was apologizing for having the wrong house and oh so politely asked if you knew where the Price household was. This had to be the wrong one because there you stood, pretty young thing, big doe eyes. Standing in just a big shirt ending at the very tops of your thighs, lashes batting at the three soldiers standing at your door.

-“You’ve got the right place. John told me you were coming, please come in.” You had to hold in a giggle, watching all of their eyes go wide. Gaz immediately looking at the sky, the floor, anywhere but the wife of his captain that he was just undressing with his eyes.

-When you turned to guide them into the house they all saw PRICE printed on the back of the large tshirt just barely covering your ass (this is your own home pants are never required and its hot as hell without the ac). Now it was Ghost’s turn to look anywhere but at you.

-As they worked you’d bring them water or snacks. They now understood why Price kept you hidden from them. The perfect lil housewife. The woman of all of their dreams already taken.

-When they were finished they went to the kitchen to inform you they were done only to find a full meal set on the table waiting for them but worst of all? There you were reaching up to the top cabinet. On your tippy toes, your shirt (Price’s shirt) riding up enough to expose the bottom of your ass and lacey pink panties. Soap had to bite his knuckle to keep from groaning. Ghost grabbing the tops of his teammates heads, turning them away from the incredible sight in front of them.

-Price was right to keep you hidden from them

-They might just have to sneak in and break something every time Price was out of town if it meant this is what they got to see.

Price's lil wife Masterlist

[stargirlstabber]

imagine the task force 141 falsely accusing you of being a traitor to the team. knowing your biggest fear, they use it against you. water. water, where your feet can't touch the ground. water you can't see through. at first it started with waterboarding. then slowly but surely they threatened to drop you into the pool. into the dark, deep pool. even john, who was like a father to you before, didn't help you. no. not at all. actually, he was the one who stepped into the water fully clothed, dragging your crying and squirming form with him into the bloodcurling liquid. your tears blended in with it while you we're screaming, practically begging that you were the wrong one. that you'd never do something like that. but they just stood at the edge of the pool, watching their captain almost drowning your terrified self. how would they react, when they get the information that you really weren't the one...?

[robinisnotavailable]

TikTokers are such pussies when it comes to ships. “B-but they’re not canon 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😖😖” honey back in my day we shipped characters from entirely different medias uphill both ways in the snow

[cicadabeats]

Tis the season to go all out

[quarterlifekitty]

Lately I’ve been getting a kick outta the idea of Ghost having a girlfriend that Johnny is painfully interested in (tale as old as time). But she a lil neurodivergent and selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!). She’s comfortable enough with Simon that she’ll talk to him when they’re alone, but she won’t say a word to Soap (she doesn’t talk to the other guys either, but you know that Johnny chooses to take it so damned personally).

The worst part is that Soap will say shit to her, and she’ll give Simon her little signal so he can bend down and she can talk to him so fucking quietly. It’s like they speak a different language and Simon is the interpreter. And it’s so infuriating to him because shit like this will happen.

“Ain’t you looking a right picture, bonnie— that dress new? Fits ye like a damned glove, sweetheart.”

You tug on Simon’s sleeve so he can lean down. Soap is rocking back and forth on his heels, anticipating an answer. He’s down so bad, he doesn’t even care that he’ll hear it from Simon’s lips and not yours. You whisper for what feels like minutes on end.

“She says thanks.”

“God damn, L.T.— you know she fuckin’ ‘ad to ‘ave said more than that!” He whines indignantly, Simon smirking. Simon knows all about his little crush, and chooses to let the lad suffer. His time will come when you’re ready.

This goes on and on for months on end— and you know what? It’s hard for Johnny to jerk off to the image of you wedged between him and Ghost when he has no idea what you sound like, moaning or otherwise. You can probably see him half hard in his jeans every time he heads home from a movie night with you and Simon.

“G’night, L.T. Night, hen.” Soap’s almost all the way down the walkway when he hears something almost inaudible over the ambient sounds of the night.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Now that’s gonna keep his fantasies fed for weeks.

[yooo-lets-go]

There’s always summer somewhere in the world I guess

[accecakes]

It’s like lookin’ into the ocean~

[sigh-tofm]

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

[random-thot-generator]

Dirty Little Secret + Pt. 2

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH x FEM READER

-

Summary: You've made a clean break and gone back to your roots.

Warnings/Tags: No major warnings, slight angsty thoughts/feelings, reader is coping, very light allusions to sex but nothing explicit, no use of Y/N

(Notes: No smut this chapter. Main focus is setting up the rest of the story and introducing Aunt Rue. I love Aunt Rue.

Short and inner-angsty, but with self-comfort? Anyway, she's dealing with it. Think of this chapter as the bridge between what happened before and what's going to happen next. And Kilroy is a fictional seaside village that I made up.)

Word Count: 1.3

-

The sound of the ocean had always been soothing to you. Given the chance, you would start every day this way, listening to the waves and the squawk of sea birds, the crunch of gravel beneath your feet.

As you picked your way along the pebbled shore, a bit of sea glass caught your eye and you stopped, toeing away the other rocks and detritus around it. It was a mottled Prussian blue, about a centimeter in diameter, the edges smooth with no chips or cracks. You held it up to the sun, huffing out a soft laugh at the effect. Bringing it back to your chest, you wiped away the grit that still clung to it with your thumb as you studied it. It was the right shade and size. You pocketed it and continued on your way.

You had become accustomed to taking these walks along the shore since moving back to Kilroy, a small village near Brighton. After things went tits up in Hereford, you had done what any heartbroken lass would do, you ran home. Home for you was your Aunt Rue's crumbling old cottage in Kilroy. It was where you spent your teenage years before going off to uni, working part time in her bakery while dreaming of a glamorous life in London.

That had been your goal back then, to live in the big city as a successful, independent career woman. That naive young woman would have been mortified to know that she would one day return to Kilroy, but you weren't that idealistic girl anymore.

Hereford was a far cry from London, yet you had barely scraped by on your own while living there; London would have eaten you alive. At least here, you knew people, felt a sense of community and familiarity. It had been so lonely living on your own, feeling isolated and forgotten. Perhaps that was why you had clung so desperately to Johnny, glad to receive what little attention he offered you, though what you received were mere scraps, really.

You sighed and shook your head, cutting off the thought before it had time to take root. It had been over six months, and you were finally in a decent headspace again. Getting over Johnny truly was like kicking an addiction; one misstep and you would be spiraling again. You sometimes wondered if you would ever be able to completely get him out of your system.

Even now, he still had an effect on your life, making you wary of the men who tried to chat you up. You just assumed they were out to get a leg over, so you often came off as cold and reserved, and in some cases, right down defensive. The thought of letting another man into your bed, letting another man touch you, use you, made you a little nauseous, to be honest. At this point, you would equate your love life with a frozen tundra— cold, bleak and depressing.

Meanwhile, Aunt Rue was still picking up blokes at the pub and bringing them home to spend the night. That had taken some getting used to. Before, when you were still a teenager, she had kept her love life lowkey, but since your return, she had no such qualms about it. It was nothing, now, to come downstairs in the morning and find some strange bloke sipping tea in one of her kimono robes at the kitchen table. Except for that one in nothing but his boxers. That had been a bridge too far.

Still, living and working with Aunt Rue had changed your perspective about a lot of things. Men and relationships, for one, living your best life, for another. You had come to realize that Aunt Rue was the role model you should have been fashioning yourself after this whole time.

She lived her life by her own rules, unapologetically and without regret. She didn't need a man around to take care of her, but she still enjoyed their company and sought it out without shame or guilt. She had carved out her own little niche in the world and was comfortable living in her own skin. Those were the goals you were striving for, now.

You checked the time on your phone, then made your way back towards the stairs leading up to the boardwalk. It was almost time to open the bakery, and Rue would be in full baking mode by now, and in need of your help.

The walk through the village was a pleasant one, the chill winds of spring giving way to the warmer climes of the approaching summer. There were still signs of the May Day celebration lingering about, artificial flower wreaths and arrangements kept on display in the shops.

That had been a fun day, you and your aunt setting up a booth on the boardwalk with the other businesses and vendors, selling summer-inspired treats as you watched the light-hearted chaos of the holiday unfold. There had even been a news crew from Brighton in attendance recording the festivities for a local television station.

As you neared the bakery, you couldn't help but smile at the lavender and white striped awning with the name of the shop printed across it: 'Rue the Day Bakery'. Taking out your keys, you let yourself in, tossing a hand up in greeting to one of the neighboring shop owners who was setting up a folding chalkboard sign outside their store.

"That you, love?" Rue called from the back, alerted by the bell above the door.

"Yeah. Just in from my walk," you called back, removing your jacket. You walked to the back to leave your jacket and bag in the office, then entered the kitchen, the smell of fresh baked bread the most prevalent today. You could always tell what day it was just by the smell of the bakery. Rue had just turned from an open oven, a tray of hot loaf pans clasped between her mitted hands. The rounded brown tops of bread gave off a mouthwatering aroma.

"Well, you're lookin' bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this mornin'," she greeted you, setting the tray on one of the metal tables against the wall. "Come help me turn these out, before ya get started on the front."

You grabbed a pair of spare oven mitts and set to work beside her, tipping out the loaves and placing them on a large cooling rack. "These turned out lovely, Aunt Rue. Save us a loaf for dinner. I'll make those open-faced sandwiches you like."

"Ooh! Ya got yourself a deal, love." She went back to her workstation and began to scrape the stuck dough off the surface with a pastry cutter, prepping it for the next round of baking. "Mind makin' me a cuppa? Think I'll take a break before starting on the rolls."

"Sure. Be right back." You went to the front, getting the hot water urns filled and switched on, glancing out the shop window to see Red, the postman, making his way down the shops, delivering the post. He was a regular, so you knew he would be in soon for his large to-go cuppa and buttered rolls with jam.

You stooped below the counter to grab your aunt's favorite oolong tea, but the box was empty. "Crap," you mumbled. "Should be another box back here somewhere…"

The bell above the door jingled, no doubt Red, you figured. "Be with ya in a tick," you called out, still rummaging about for the elusive oolong.

"Take yer time," was the reply, but it most definitely was not Red. This voice was deeper, a bit raspy and distinctly Scottish.

You shot to your feet, eyes wide, heart already breaking into a gallop as you gaped at the man standing before you. "What are you doing here?" you blurted out, shocked.

Johnny tilted his head, blue eyes flashing. "Hello, bonnie."

-

part 1 part 3

[ghouljams]

Absolutely cannot have fresh shaved/waxed pussy around the 141 boys.

Soap will cry over it, mourning the loss of your bush and "talking his girl(your pussy) through the loss" ie fingering you until you're soaked and sore as punishment.

Price will make it his mission to give you beard burn, shaking his head like a damn dog while he's eating you out, scratching the hell out of your pussy and thighs with his beard. He's trying to bleach the damn thing you just know it.

Ghost is the worst. Taking the opportunity to leave his dental imprint in the soft flesh surrounding your clit. He's going to bite until you're sobbing just to see the dimpled marks he's left.

At least Gaz is sweet. Pressing little kisses over the newly shaved/waxed skin, giving your clit soft little licks and pulling back to rub his fingers against your clit with gentle praises. Until you realize he's been doing that for the last hour, giving you just enough to keep you making those nice breathy noises but never giving you more. Maybe you should try Soap again...

[partiallysame]

Soap accidentally hits on ghosts girl

“What’s a pretty lil thing like you doing in a bar like this?” He asked as he waved to the bartender to get you another of whatever was in your glass. Turing to see who the cheesy line belonged to, you almost let out a laugh before you realized he was being serious. You immediately recognized the man. Simon had one single thing on the walls in his apartment, a photo of the 141. You knew the man in front of you but by the way he was sliding onto the stool next to you he clearly did not know who you were. This was going to be fun. You looked up at him with this big doe eyes and he was already losing it.

You hummed a little as if you were contimplating his question. “Maybe I come here to meet big strong men.” You batted your lashes at him. “Was hoping to meet a couple actually.” Your response made him raise his eyebrows as he took a drink of the glass the bartender had handed him.

“Oh is that so?” He asked leaning a little closer to you.

“Yes it is” your voice dripped with honey as you leaned closer to him. His hand immediately found your thigh at your action. A big smile came to your face, hand reaching up to place itself lightly on his chest. You two stayed like that for a moment both refusing to break eye contact before you leaned in to whisper in his ear. Lips barely brushing his skin as you spoke.

“You know John. You should probably ask if a pretty lil thing like me is single before you touch” his eyes widened when you used his name and threw the nickname he had used back at him. Pulling back slightly your hand on his chest gripped the collar of his shirt. “Or at least ask her name.” Before he knew it, the soldier was being pulled by you off the stool and dragged by his shirt to the front door where the rest of the 141 had been watching.

“This thing belong you?” You questioned pushing the large man towards his friends.

“Sorry lovie” your boyfriend apologized reaching to take your hand.

Oh Soap was so fucked.

part 2

[cradleghost]

They match each others freak i know it