#soap shop

[paulpingminho]

[briarsandbramble]

✨BIG END OF YEAR SALE✨

From now until January 1st! Receive 30% off of every item in the shop! EVERYTHING!

Thank you all for making this year so magical for me and my family. Your love and support truly means everything. I couldn’t do this without you (literally). 💫

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)

Part Ten: Permission

A/N: We're SO back!

You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.

Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.

Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.

Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.

The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.

“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.

You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.

“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.

Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.

You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“

”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.

“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.

“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.

“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.

“Gonnae tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Might help.”

You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”

“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.

He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.

John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.

You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.

You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.

“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.

“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.

“I want a piercing.”

He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”

“If you have time.”

“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.

The only answer is to quit, right?

That’s your only option.

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.

You shrug. “What’d you think?”

He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.

“How about a navel?”

“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.

Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.

You’ll have to quit.

That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.

Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”

“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.

Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”

You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.

“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.

You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”

“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”

Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“

“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”

You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.

“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.

“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.

Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.

“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.

Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…

“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.

His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.

“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”

Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”

“Still want tae get peirced?”

You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”

Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.

“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”

“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”

You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”

There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.

“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.

You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.

Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.

You have permission.

You don’t need permission.

You have it, though.

“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.

“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”

“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.

“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”

For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”

Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.

“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.

“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.

His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”

You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.

You have permission.

“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.

Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.

“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”

“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.

It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.

“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“Ah, wha-“

“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.

“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.

“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.

You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.

“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.

If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.

Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.

You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.

There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.

“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.

“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”

You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”

He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”

You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)

Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse

[s0fter-sin]

everyone makes fun of soap when they find out how many hair and skin products he keeps on hand. the cabinet in his bathroom is filled to bursting and he always keeps travel sized bottles on him on missions

when soldiers outside the 141 find out, they call him precious and self-obsessed, a vain pretty boy too preoccupied with his reflection to focus on the enemy. no wonder how he got his callsign. price has given up telling him to leave them on base and just teaches him to individually wrap them so they don’t rattle against each other and give himself away

what they don’t know is that each product contains an ingredient that when mixed with any number of the others, creates potent chemical bombs. he was caught unarmed once, he won’t let it happen again

[ghcstao3]

“Hair’s gettin’ a bit long, yeah, Simon?”

Simon waves Tommy off as he feels him pinch at a tuft of hair, unwilling to entertain the teasing remark when he knows it’d only lead to a brotherly jab—as it often does nowadays. He gives a gentle shove when Tommy only insists, currently more concerned with the sudoku game on his phone, but really Simon should know better by now, especially now, that Tommy will eventually, inevitably get his point across.

“Think they’ll let you back on base with that rat’s nest on your head?”

“Bugger off,” Simon grumbles. Tommy only doubles his efforts by draping all his weight over his brother. Simon rolls his eyes. “Think Beth’ll let you back in the house if I tell her about that time you—“

“Hey,” Tommy hisses, pushing away before gently smacking Simon upside the head, “shut your cake hole, it was one time.”

“How you’ve only managed to do it only once is beyond me,” says Simon flatly. He gets another row filled of his puzzle. “A miracle, really. Knowing you.”

“Dickhead,” Tommy retorts.

“Twat.”

Tommy snorts. “Really should cut it, though. Looks a mess. ‘M sure Beth could help.”

Simon shakes his head. “I’ll just buzz it. Save her the hassle,” he grunts.

Though he can’t see it, he can sense the way Tommy throws his arms up in surrender. It’s obvious his insults have been made, if not by the sudden willful silence, but his footsteps as he wanders out of the kitchen. He’d been right, unfortunately, about Simon’s hair, but they’re well past the days of allowing each other the small victories.

Which is a good thing, Simon supposes. Knows.

He’s thankful Tommy’s left the space so he couldn’t see the stupid smile that appears on Simon’s face, before he runs a hand through his overgrown hair and lets it fall just in case Tommy were to come wandering back with something new to pick on.

//

“Your hair’s gettin’ a bit long, Simon.”

Simon resists the urge to roll his eyes when he feels Johnny’s fingers card through his admittedly too-long hair, suppressing the sigh that rises from his lungs when the sergeant continues to linger.

“I’m aware,” Simon says instead. “Is that all you needed to say, MacTavish?”

He feels Johnny’s shrug. “Looks nice. Might need a brush after being under the mask, but.”

Simon tilts his head back, inadvertently leaning into Johnny’s touch. Perhaps the vulnerability of his bare face had him on edge, guarded for insult like he used to be with Tommy, but the soft look on Johnny’s face has the sigh finally escaping him, the tension in his shoulders gradually releasing.

“Yeah?”

Johnny nods. “Mhm. But if you want it cut, I’ll help you buzz it. Know bothers you.”

Simon hums. “Maybe. Might wait a bit longer.”

“That right?”

“Sure, Johnny.”

Johnny laughs softly, gently scratching at Simon’s scalp before he retracts his hand. His touch lasts well after he’s left, a warmth that spreads through Simon’s body like every other time they’ve made contact—even if he’d never tell Johnny that.

He may just take him up on his offer of help, however.

This time, he doesn’t bother trying to mask his smile.

[journen]

Hey guys! New stickers up in my Etsy shop!!:) I even got bumper sticker variants! Here's a link to the listing if you'd like to check it out!

Everything in my shop is also up to 20% off until October 15th!! So feel free to take advantage if you're inclined. :)

Hope you guys like it 😄🧡 first few orders too get a couple little bonus ghost stickers as well.

[eleu22]

Task Force 141’s go to Tesco Meal Deals

the tescos outside my uni is never fucking stocked i want the sandwich on ghosts so bad but that shit is always gone

John Price

- gets water as his drink (criminal)

- gets the mixed nuts as his snack (criminal)

- he’s smart tho he always gets the boujie water because the meal deal price is set

- the wrap is valid

- usually will also grab another snack bc this isn’t enough maybe like a bag of dried mango or some shit (old)

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

- my headcanon continues to live

- the healthy energy shit tastes like ass but he pretends its good

- does not usually shop at tesco, he’s a waitrose boy

- sometimes indulges in the odd crunchie bar but rarely

John “Soap” Mactavish

- horrifying (i love pepperami sm everyone disses me for it bc i pull that shit out in lesson and it stanks)

- protein to the max ig

- the whole meal fucking stinks

- uses gaz’s club card because he’s too lazy to get his own

Simon “Ghost” Riley

- absolutely classic

- everytime he gets it mentions how cost of living prices have made them more expensive

- grenade bars are disgusting but he loves them for some reason (masochism imo)

- the sandwich is the best one they have bc the bread is always so moist its so fucking good

- the monster bc yall saw the ghost monster can we all know

[mactavishenjoyer]

(Coffee shop au)

Customer:"I thought the Wi-Fi was free?"

Soap:"yeah if you buy a fucking coffee or something, hippie ass bitch."

Customer:"I wanna speak to the manager."

Soap:"I am the manager, bitch!"

Customer:"then the owner!"

Price, from across the cafe:"FUCK OFF, BITCH!"

[ghouljams]

Just saw this as a bumper sticker on someone's car, and immediately thought of sandwich shop/mafia au Ghost. Maybe one of the guys gets it for him as like a joke/gag gift, and he's like "funny 🗿" but catch him sticking it somewhere and adoring it unironically 🤭

Soap gets it for him on an apron and he wears it unironically the entire time he's in the shop. That's his new favorite thing. He'd wear it to interrogations if he didn't want it to stay clean. Ghost stands in the kitchen and when any of the 141 tries to talk to him he gestures to the apron.

"Ahm nae callin' ya 'chef'!" Mohawk yells as he comes through the kitchen's swinging door.

"Then you can starve." "Simon" tells him right on his heel. Mohawk purses his lips, like he's thinking hard about what this is costing him.

"Ah cannae talk tae ya when you're like this." He finally concedes. He gives you a wave before leaving the restaurant. It's the first time any of them, save Simon, have acknowledged your existence if they aren't taking your order. You wonder if the car-jacking incident has anything to do with it.

Simon appears beside your table and slides your card off the top to punch the necessary hole. You eye his apron. He looks almost proud behind his usual medical mask when you meet his eye.

"I... like it?" You supply, "Very you."

"Nice to get a little appreciation." Simon huffs.

"You have my review hanging on your wall." You give him a look of confusion. If anyone is appreciating Simon's cooking it's you.

"It's a good review."

"I know," You blink, "I wrote it."

"Car drivin' alright?" Simon asks, changing the subject. You grin.

"Yes chef."

[notspiders]

This is fine.

~~~~

Inspired by @ghouljams 's #sandwich au / #mafia au.

Reference used:

[paulpingminho]

[magicalshopping]

♡ Halloween & Autumn Soaps by Primal Elements ♡

[sgt-tombstone]

headcanon that Ghost doesn’t know how to drive a manual transmission. Military vehicles are all automatic, and he’d never had a reason or opportunity to learn, so he just… hadn’t. At least, not well. He’d driven stick shifts enough to understand the basics and not stall every time he got behind the wheel, but it’s not something he’s super comfortable with

When he retires (or is forced to retire), the car that Price sets him up with is a manual. He makes it back to the flat (that Price also set him up with) with no small amount of frustration, and he spends the rest of the following week in a state of near-paralysis

If it were just the car, it would be fine. He’s not afraid of learning new things, and he’s definitely not one to let his own pride get in the way of being a functional adult human being. But it’s not just the car. It’s the disruption to his whole routine, the stark unfamiliarity of civilian life, the fundamental alteration of his entire life being uprooted and hastily replanted. The car is just the physical embodiment of it

He’s avoids driving as much as possible, because he hates the reminder that things are different. If he just stays in his flat, he can almost pretend that he’s just on leave. So he lives on take-out, he doesn’t furnish his flat past the bare essentials, he doesn’t let himself settle in

It all comes to a head when Johnny tries to visit on his leave. He asks Simon to pick him up at the airport, and Simon… can’t. He’s built such a mental barrier around his car, the physical manifestation of everything slipping out of control in his life, and he just… can’t

He calls Johnny, who’s obviously still at the airport if the background noise is any indication, and he pours it all out. The empty flat, the constant take-out, the unmoored feeling, and above all, the fucking car. He’s scared, he’s alone, he’s in over his head, and it’s the first time he’s admitted any of it. When he finishes his outpouring of uncharacteristic emotion, Johnny just says, “I’ll help you buy a new car,” like it’s that easy, like that will solve everything

And it does, because the car was never just a car. Johnny cashes in all of his built-up leave time and helps Simon pick out a new (automatic transmission) car. He helps Simon shop for furniture, even if it takes all day and they both leave the store frustrated with nothing to show for it. He helps Simon stock his pantry with ingredients, snacks, and pre-prepared meals, because some days are worse than others. He helps Simon get his feet underneath him, because it’s something he’s never had to do before

He never drives a manual transmission again and he thinks that maybe that’s okay

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

🖼️ Selling Artprints on INPRNT! 🖼️

Hello fellas! (。・∀・)ノ

I've opened an artshop on INRPNT of my Call of Duty arts!

Over time, I'd love to add more to the gallery.

If you have some money to spare and looking to decorate your walls or desk, here are some of my arts available to print and order on INPRNT! ~(≧▽≦)/~

Thank you so much!! <3

[gomzdrawfr]

141 Pride wallpapers from this post up on Kofi for free :)

get it here

also my commissions are open too :3

[s0fter-sin]

retired ghoap going on a renovation competition show

ghost takes over the budget and he's ruthless with it; tracking every paint swatch and piece of lumber down to the last cent, haggling for every purchase and making the most of their coupons. soap's in charge of design; he can visualise floor plans better than anyone, seeing the completed spaces in his mind when they’re little more than a steel shell

they run their site like a military base, treating their builders like rookies; expecting them to follow orders but also waiting for them to inevitably mess up so they can fix it

they're an immediate shock to the judges; they fully expected them to have no idea what they're doing, to have no understanding of style or trends, but they didn't sign up just for shits and giggles

they know how to hit a brief and can do physical labour faster than the actual builders. with soap's discerning eye and ghost's practically, they design gorgeous rooms and become a real threat for the prize money. they handle the stress and sleepless nights like it's second nature bc really, it is; a few all nighters painting are nothing compared to being shot at

they also take great joy in messing with the other couples

it takes a while for them to figure out they're even married; they argue like it's going out of fashion, never holding their opinions or frustrations back but it's their love language as much as their banter. you can hear them barking at each other from across the site; callsigns and “It” and “sergeant” thrown around just like in the field

the challenges are where they have the most fun

the day to day? that's work; they're strict, both with themselves and the schedule, never letting anything fall behind or go incompleted. but the challenges? that's play time. they love pushing the brief, toeing the line of the rules purely bc they can

they get to a two part art challenge and ghost's scheming before before the host even opens their mouth. part one? one half of the couple has to design some kind of art piece that will feature in their house. part two? the other person has to gather supplies and tools and make the art

there's a time limit for how long they can take to gather the supplies; once it's up, they can't go back for more and they can only use what they can carry themselves to their station. they're in a warehouse filled with scrap and paint and tools, the choices almost overwhelming

ghost politely interrupts the host to ask for a clarification; absolutely anything in the warehouse can be used so long as they can carry it?

the host confirms; anything under the roof is their's to use

ghost thanks them and steps back in line, standing at attention and waiting for round one to start

ghost volunteers to be the one to do the art, shocking everyone since soap is well known as the artist of the two of them. but soap sees the mischief in his eyes; he knows he's up to something and can't wait to see where it goes

the timer starts and ghost immediately shucks his hoodie and gets to grabbing; stuffing the impromptu bag with everything he recognises from soap's own supplies. there's seconds to go when he bolts for soap, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry

the other couples are pissed and call it cheating, trying to get them disqualified

ghost just shrugs, soap still over his shoulder, "they said we can use anything we can carry. i followed the brief"

soap just laughs like a mad man

they win the challenge by a landslide

everything's going smoothly, they've won enough room reveals that they’re in a good financial position, they’re ahead in their current room and in a great headspace

then soap gets injured

it's an honest mistake, a part of the roof they thought was stable collapsing and hitting soap

and ghost, always calm and in control, panics

he's on the other side of the site when he hears soap cry out and goes running; shoving past cameramen and builders, screaming to know what happened before he even sees him. he finds soap on the ground, blood dripping from his temple and it's too familiar; a thing he sees in his nightmares

he doesn't know what to do with all his fear so instead, he channels it into anger

he goes off on all his builders, demanding to know how they could be so useless and careless as to miss the unstable roof; screaming at them in a way he hasn't done since he was on active duty, tearing down a rookie for poor trigger management

all the while, his gentle hands tend to soap; checking the wound, if he's concussed, soothing him before he can slip into a flashback of his own. he growls at the cameras, doesn't let the onsite medics anywhere near him; he doesn't know them, doesn't trust them with his johnny. it's only soap's gentle convincing that makes him step back, that forces him to stop and breathe; glaring the medics down from soap's side as they check him and come to the same conclusion soap already reached

he'll be iust fine; a few stitches and he'll be right back in it

ghost goes with him to the hospital to get the stitches laid, abandoning the site to their terrified builders to look after. it takes a few days before he can handle them being separated again, can't even handle one of them going shopping while the other site manages

but soap doesn't begrudge him for his clinginess, not when he knows it's rooted in the fear of losing him. he just keeps him close and calls him his good luck charm when they win the room reveal that week