Soap Call Of Duty - Blog Posts

very relatable, honestly.

Let it be known that if Simon "Ghost that is not nice" Riley is the voice of reason we're all in big trouble

He secretly loved it (took a lot of photos when they were distracted)

So cute 🥺

Long time no see tumblr, time to post my ratty ass paintings here

Enjoy the task force 141 cuddling some cats hehe

You can also find me on twitter: https://twitter.com/fludderpy

Red Team

Adorable! 🐦♥️

Just sniper things 🐦 (low stakes mission)

is that Soap here in this room with us, Ghost?

yall i fucked it up help

it looks more like an oc

im working on a kinda punk soap!!! be prepared for the final sketch to be posted soon

(Yes its a repost)

Sailor Soap (normal style/my style)

Cuddling with Soap❤️

Fluff and a drabble

Soap x GN!Reader

God he would be yapping the whole time as he held you close to his chest. Every moment or two he’d shift or change positions not feeling comfortable enough or wanting to be closer to you. His big smile would constantly be in your face or in your ear spouting about whatever comes to mind. Whether it is how beautiful you are or how Ghost was a bastard for making him run laps around the track.

His hands would always be wandering around your skin resting your hips, chest, or neck. Its not for any sexual reason despite Johnny being a dog its a reminder that your alive. Your warm skin and your heart beat calms his racing mind knowing you’re here with him.

If he does fall asleep before you and tucks your head under his chin holding you tightly. He wraps his legs around yours resting his arms around your chest. Whenever you shift or try to get up he just holds you tight muttering something unintelligible before relaxing again.

If you falls asleep first Johnny lays your head on a pillow. He lays next to you watching your blissfully calm face, your chest rising and falling with each breath. He admires you for minutes to hours, he never keeps track of time. These are the moments he cherishes when hes in some far away place away from you. Whether it be in some ramshackle building or in the forest these memories keep him warm at night.

Fluff!✨• JohnnyxReader •❤️🧼

It was a long hard mission, everyone was beaten down and exhausted. There is a constant ring in everyones ears as they feel the cold wind chill their bones.

There was no conversation or banter tonight everyone ready to drop dead when they got back to base. Prices cigar smoke wafts through the air making it smell warm like his office.

Your body feels like it was pushed to its very limit, the muscles relax despite the hard metal. The helicopter blades are deafening even with the headphones on. Despite that your eyes start to flutter shut, you try and fight it but its been a long day.

With a small bump your head lands on Johnnys shoulder and you are out like a light. Johnny jumps a little surprised but he immediately stills. A small smile creeps onto his face as he wraps his arm around your waist.

He rests his head against yours yawning, feeling the same pull to slumber as you did.

“Have a good sleep bonnie, I’ll see ya when ah wake up”

He pulls you just a tad bit closer feeling comfort with you by your side. With one more yawn he succumbs to sleep letting himself dream.

When I tell you I was pissing my pants laughing at this.

“This wallpaper is so cute, we could live here” ME IN A NUTSHELL I have ADHD (I’m medicated for it) but when I’m off it this is me 😭

Hello! God, I recently found your blog and I love it!!! I'm also a big Taylor fan and I've had this idea in mind! You are free to do it [or not do it] and modify it!

Based on *All too Well*

I was thinking of one of these guys

Jonh Price / Köing/ Ghost/ Philip Graves

"You kept me like a secret and I kept it like an oath"

"But you keep my old scarf from that very first week' Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me"

And maybe we got lost in translationMaybe I asked for too much"

I love the song and I can't stop thinking about them!!!

-🌙

Hello! So happy you’re enjoying the blog! No joke I had this sitting in my drafts debating on whether or not to post it! I lost my voice last Friday SCREAMING “All Too Well” in the theater. Even if you’re not a swiftie it’s just a lyrical masterpiece

All to Well 🧣

Captain John Price x F! Reader

Summary: Based on the ten minute version of All Too Well, John has to face what he had done to his beloved red scarf & all

Warnings: cheating, John being a dick, the usual

“And maybe we got lost in translation maybe I asked for too much, maybe this thing was a master piece before you tore it all up”

Heels in hand Y/N sat on the steps of the hotel where the military ball she was attending with John was being held. She was sobbing her eyes out into her hands. While trying to figure out where he wandered off to, she stumbled across him & his secretary having sex in a bathroom stall. He had told her not to worry about her, but her intuition told her otherwise. These past few months had been excruciatingly difficult. He spent his time home out late, leave her to sit by the front door waiting for him to return. Shallow excuses coming from him over the phone had made her cry herself to sleep one too many times. The sickening smell of his secretary’s perfume lingered on him when he’d come home, & yet he gaslighted her into believing otherwise.

She stood up as she saw the Uber she had called for pull up in front of the hotel. John was adjusting his dress uniform bow tie while running towards the doors to intercept her. Other officers looked at him confused as he sped past them. His secretary Camille wasn’t too far behind him calling his name. Y/N turned her head back when she heard him calling her name. With haste she closed the door to the Uber & ordered the driver to speed away. John was left standing on the sidewalk watching her go. He let out an annoyed sigh & turned around to see his team at the doors. Laswell looking so disappointed in him, & what he had done.

It had been months since Y/N moved out. Contrary to the rumors, Camille didn’t move in with the Captain. She was swiftly fired from her position, & was forced out of the contracting community. Laswell made sure of that. No, John was forced to live with the ghosts of his past lover. Just last week he found the red scarf that she adored hidden in a couch cushion. He inhaled the scent of the red wool trying to remember what her perfume smelled like.

Kyle was deeply concerned for his superiors mental health ever since he ended his relationship so they decided to go to the local pub. After a quick shower & shave he got dressed. He grabbed his jacket off of the rack. The red wool scarf hung beside it taunting him of his mistake. He grabbed it & put it on before leaving. Simon greeted him at the door & they all got a round then headed back to a table in the back corner. He was starting to feel himself go back to happy self before he ended things with Y/N. That was until she walked in with a couple of friends.

They locked eyes, & there was shift in the air. It felt tense. Simon picked it up on the body language shift in his Captain. He followed John’s gaze & sighed as soon as his spotted her. She looked equally as emotionally distressed.

“Talk to her,” Simon said. “You look absolutely fucking miserable Price, & you two have a lot to fix.” Price looked at Simon knowing he was right, this was his mistake he needed to fix. He reluctantly stood up & wiped his hands on his jeans. Her friend Este, stopped mid sentence to glare at the bearded man. She turned around knowing it was coming sooner rather then later.

“Let’s get this over with.” She sighed following him out to the street. You both sat on a bench only a few shops down from the pub. John had planned thousands of things to say to you but now he was speechless.

“What do you want John?” She asked looking at him. “Did we get lost in translation, did I ask for too much?” She spat. Embarrassment & shame turned his cheeks crimson red.

“I wanted to talk.” He simply stated. “I was a fucking selfish prick.”

“I’ll say.” You scoffed. “I swear all you men have the fucking audacity I swear.”

“I don’t disagree.” He replied in agreement. “Listen, I’m in a new hell Y/N.”

“You don’t think I am?” She cried out. “What we had was a masterpiece John before you tore it all up.”

“And I was a fucking idiot.” John said.

“You told me if we had been closer in age, maybe we would’ve been fine.” She stated. “God I still do love you dearly, John. But how can I make sure you won’t break me like a promise?” He took the red wool that lingered of her vanilla fragrance & placed it around her neck.

“Because instead of mailing your things to you, I kept a whole drawer of memories you left behind hoping you’d return to me. You’re the only real thing I’ve ever known.” He replied honestly. She was taken a back he kept even the littlest things she left, from hair pins to the red scarf. Anything to still have a piece of her. He placed a hand on her now flushed cheek. The bitter cold London air started to nip at their exposed skin. Little flecks of white glistened as it started to fall from the sky. The first snow of the winter season. He grabbed her waist & pulled her in for a deep kiss. After they both pulled away they sat in the moment to remember it all too well.

The Lakes

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F! Reader

Summary: While on leave for a vacation road trip, Y/N & Johnny come across the Windermere Peaks & talk about their future together. Based on “The Lakes” off of Folklore by Taylor Swift

A/N: Miss Swift is a big inspiration for my work she has a huge discography so yeah, legit this is all I want too. If I could resort to living a small cabin in the woods by a beautiful lake I’d be seventh heaven

Warnings: none

“I don’t belong, & my beloved neither do you”

It had been a few years since you & Johnny took a vacation all to yourselves. He had been working overtime consistently for the past few months & finally he was given some time off. You put in for vacation time & the both of you decided on a road trip. There were still parts of the new country you called home you hadn’t seen before & you wanted to see them in a fun way. Johnny & you had been driving all over the UK for the past two weeks. You planned on ending your trip in Edinburgh so he could show you around his favorite locals spots.

Johnny pulled the rental car you two had chosen into the parking lot of the bed & breakfast the two of you were staying at. It was a old Tudor style cottage in the northwest English countryside. You studied literature at university & wanted to see where William Wordsworth spent the final years of his career as a writer. He parked the car & the two of you started to unpack the car. The air was crisp & refreshing compared to the smog that sat over London. You looked up at the cottage, admiring it’s wisteria & ivy that grew along the side of the building.

“Come on love let’s get settled, then we can go for a nice lunch.” Johnny said grabbed your suitcase from your hand. He never let you carry your own luggage. The both of you walked in & were amazed by the decor. Victorian furniture & carved oak woodwork decorated the interior. A small older woman greeted the two of you from the top of the stairs.

“Oh you must be the MacTavish’s!” She said & started down the stairs.

“Yes ma’am, we are.” Johnny replied smiling at her.

“Oh well I am Mrs. Harkness,” She greeted them. “But please call me Rebekah. Come follow me upstairs I’ll show you around & to your rooms.” The more you looked around the home the more you realized this was your ideal home. The cozinesses & tranquility brought a sense of comfort to you. The room Johnny had rented could’ve made you melt into the floor. A marble fireplace with a Edwardian clock faced the art deco style bed with green velvet bedding. “I’ll leave you two, enjoy your stay. Breakfast is from nine to eleven am tomorrow.”

“Oh John,” You sighed looking around the room. “This room is beautiful.”

“I knew you’d love it.” He said smirking to himself as he put your suitcases on the small loveseat that was in the corner of the room. “You want to get some lunch?” He asked. You nodded following him out of the room. After getting a recommendation from Rebekah you guys decided on a small sandwich shop. The both of you decided on a outdoor picnic the autumn air was perfect for it. The two of you picked a willow tree that sat upon a hill over looking the lakes.

“This is perfect John.” You said turning to look at him. He brushed some of the hair that had flown into your face over your ear.

“I know darling.” He replied. You leaned into his touch & he leaned in for a kiss. He placed one hand on your waist deepening the kiss. Once the two of you were coming up for the air you rested your foreheads together.

“This is what I want for us John.” You softly said. “Imagine it, us maybe a sheep dog & two little ones running around. A cottage that overlooks the lakes.” You smiled just at the thought of it. “I want for our little ones to grow up with grass, trees, for them to be adventurous.”

“Just like their mother,” John started & kissed you again.

“More like you Mr. MacTavish.” You replied & booped his nose. You took his hand pressing it to your little now growing baby bump. His large hands started to rub small circles on your stomach. You brought a hand up to his face your finger tips danced along his stubble. Just you wanted to basking this intimate moment for as long as you could.

“God I love you so much.” John whispered.

“I love you most.” You replied kissing him again. “We should get going baby MacTavish has decided they want something sweet.” You giggled.

New Recruit

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Summary: Y/N’s & Simon’s little girl goes to work with her daddy after begging for months, this is based on a true story that happened today my husband came home decorated in stickers

Warnings: none

When your daughter found out Simon was bringing her to work the next day she was overly ecstatic. She immediately grabbed her little pink backpack & packed three of her Barbie dolls, stickers, coloring books, all the essentials. Your daughter had grown incredibly curious in what her father did. He’d always try to bring back some sort of souvenir for her, & it only helped with peaking her curiosity. She’d constant ask different questions when he’d come home from a mission & Simon would create some elaborate story to shield her from his actual profession. All she knew what that he was in the military to some degree. So Simon decided since it was mainly a online safety training day he’d bring her onto the base.

The next morning she was so excited nearly bouncing out of her seat in anticipation. She kept asking so many questions about the activities planned that she wasn’t eating her cereal.

“Sweetheart, you gotta eat up my love.” You stated, reminding her of the colorful fruity breakfast food in front of her. “You need to be well fed before you go with daddy to work.”

“Okay mummy.” She replied starting to eat away. Simon had just come back from a early morning run & walked in the door. “Daddy!” She yelled excitedly & opened her arms for a hug.

“Hey princess!“ He greeted her. Despite how sweaty he was, he couldn’t deny his little girl a hug.

“You stink!” She exclaimed. He ruffled her hair & walked upstairs to take a well needed shower. Once she was done with her breakfast you took her upstairs to get her ready for the day. She had laid out her outfit the night prior. The cutest little pink corduroy dress, with white tights, & mary jane flats were resting on her dresser. You got her changed into her outfit for the day & Simon came in dressed in his uniform. It was a morning ritual before he left for work that he’d help put his little girls hair up. His bear paw of a hand grabbed the hair brush that sat on her dresser & started to brush her sandy blonde locks.

“What bow do you want this morning princess?” He asked pointing to the plethora of bows that sat in a container.

“Hmmmm,” She said thoughtfully her little nose crinkling in thought. “The pink one!” You now leaning against the door frame giggled to yourself. She had all those bows but without fail the pink one was the one she wore the most. He clipped the bow into her small ponytail & let her look at it in the mirror.

“Okay pumpkin, let’s go so daddy is not late for work.” He said & scooped her up. She always looked smaller then she was in Simon’s arms. It always looked like he was carrying a doll around. He grabbed her pink backpack & swung it over his free shoulder. The three of you made it downstairs & you gave the two of them a kiss goodbye.

“Looks like it’s just you & me today.” You said quietly to your now visible baby bump.

Simon buckled the wiggly little girl into her car seat & got into the driver’s seat of his pick up truck.

“Okay darling what do you wanna listen to?” He asked looking back at her, already knowing her answer.

“Taylor Swift!” She exclaimed & like clockwork he put on her absolute favorite song, Shake it Off. He smiled to himself as he watched her wiggle around in her car seat to the song singing to herself. Simon tried to sing along, but she shot that down really fast. “No daddy I only sing.” She said. He rolled his eyes playfully, & shook his head. Knowing damn well she got her sassiness from her mother.

He pulled up to the gate to the base, & showed both of her identification cards. The gate guard scanned both & saluted Simon. Soon they were in the parking lot to the headquarters, & Simon was struggling with getting the car seat unhooked. His damn sausage fingers were getting in the way.

“God dammit.” He said as he tried to unclip one of the straps. Your daughter got wide eyed & gasped.

“Daddy you just said a bad word!” She exclaimed. “Mummy says those aren’t nice words.” A look of disbelief was on Simon’s face at his child’s scolding, knowing well enough she’ll repeat what happened later on. The swear jar at home was already way too filled from his accidental cursing. Price had been standing outside finishing off the last of his cigarette watching his lieutenant struggle with the car seat buckle. After he finished his smoke he decided to go over & help. Being a father to three kids meant he was a professional.

“Oi, Simon!” He called coming down the stairs. “Need some help?”

“Anything would be great, Price.” Simon said clearly frustrated. Price looked at the little girl in the car seat who looked back him & smiled. “I swear they strap them in tight enough they could survive an atomic bomb.” Simon continue. “Eleanor, this is Captain Price. Daddy’s boss, he’s gonna unhook ya.” Simon told his daughter.

“Hello, Eleanor,” Price said. “Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand & she grabbed onto two fingers, shaking his hand. Somehow someway Price was able to get the car seat unhooked. Eleanor held out her arms & Price picked her up placing her down next to her father. Simon took the pink backpack & his daughters hand. All three of them walked into the building only to be greeted by Soap & Gaz.

“Finally!” Soap exclaimed. “What took you lot so long-“ he cut off mid sentence at the sight of the little girl holding her fathers hand. “Who’s child is that?” He asked.

“This is my daughter, Eleanor.” Simon explained. Eleanor now shyly was hiding in between her fathers legs.

“I had no idea you had a kid LT.” Gaz said. The two men crouched down to greet the little girl. Simon’s hand came down to stroke her hair to tell her it’s okay. “Hello, Eleanor I’m Gaz & this is Soap.” She just stared back at them gripping onto the camouflage fabric of Simon’s pants.

“She’s just shy.” Simon explained & picked up his daughter.

“Well let’s get to it.” Price stated, & they all walked into one of the briefing rooms. “Simon why don’t you drop Eleanor off with Laswell while we conduct our briefing.” Price stated. “She’s just right next door.”

Simon carried his daughter out of the room & knocked on the door of the room next to them. Kate opened the door & smiled.

“Oh isn’t this a surprise!” Kate said.

“Could you just let her sit in here for a few? We’re about to do a briefing.” Simon asked. She nodded & Simon handed his daughter off to her with her pink backpack.

“Daddy where are you going?” Eleanor asked in a upset tone.

“Daddy’s going to be right next door.” He explained to her. “Then when I’m done you can come in.”

“Okay daddy.” She replied. Simon went into the briefing room & Laswell closed the door to her office. She placed the little girl on the ground who held onto her pink backpack.

“Whatcha got in there?” Laswell asked as she crouched down to her level.

“I have Barbie’s.” Eleanor said. “Do you know how to play with Barbie’s?” She asked. Laswell nodded, & Eleanor opened up her backpack to reveal her Barbie’s. The more questions Laswell asked the more comfortable Eleanor was around her. Once the briefing was finished, Simon went next door to check in on his daughter. There she was sitting with Laswell on the floor playing with her three favorite Barbie’s. Soap & Gaz also appeared in the doorway behind him. After a few minutes Eleanor realized her father was in the doorway. “Daddy!” She exclaimed excitedly. He never got tired of seeing her excitement when he walked into a room or came back from work.

“Hi princess, can I steal Laswell for a minute?” He asked. “Soap & Gaz will play if you want.” He said & Laswell got up. “Then after this we can get Macca’s for lunch.” She lit up at the sound of that.

“Okay daddy.” She said in agreement. Soap & Gaz soon joined her on the floor. She looked at them skeptically especially Soap. “Why is your hair that way?” She asked as she picked up one of her Barbie’s from the floor. Gaz had to control himself & try not to laugh.

“It’s a Mohawk, & I like it.” He replied. She really was Simon’s kid.

“Do you know how to play Barbie’s?” She asked them quizzically. They both looked at each other & then her. “It’s okay, I’ll show you.” Eleanor went on to explain the drama between three of the dolls. It was an elaborate betrayal & divorce plot that left the two men speechless. “That’s how you play Barbie’s.” They just stared back at her absolutely confused.

“Oh wow,” Soap said. “That’s uh wow. That took a sharp left turn.”

“I’ll say,” Gaz said. “What else did you bring?” He asked. She went to her backpack & whipped out the sticker sheets.

“Those look fun.” Soap said. Eleanor took a sticker of a unicorn off of the sheet & placed it on his forehead. The cutest giggle he had ever heard erupted from her lips. Soon his whole face & Gaz’s face were covered in stickers. Simon, Price, & Laswell had completed their briefing, & went to go check on the three of them next door. Once they opened the door Kate had to stifle a laugh. Simon looked on in amusement at his daughter who placing different stickers over his teammates faces.

“Eleanor, love what are you doing?” Simon asked.

“Making them pretty.” She replied very matter of factly.

“It looks like Lisa Frank threw up on them.” Laswell said.

“Hey we’re trying to make the new recruit here happy.” Soap replied with his eyes closed as she placed a new sticker on his forehead.

“New recruit?” Price asked.

“Yeah little Eleanor here.” Gaz answered. Simon smiled to himself as he watched his daughter enjoy herself. He knew she’d be asking to come to work with him again, but this time with more stickers.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish Headcannons

A/N: I’m very happy y’all are enjoying these!

Warnings NSFW

• Y’all met while you were on a study abroad program

• You had been returning from a night class & decided to go to the local pub for a pint & some food

• It was another soldier that pointed you out initially but he caught your eye

• “Oi, what’s a wee lass like yourself doin’ all alone in the corner?” (It definitely didn’t come out THAT clearly)

• it took you a minute to process what the hell he had said since his Scottish accent is so thick

• You spent hours chatting in that bar, about your home life, studies, etc. Johnny was limited in what he could tell you about his profession

• The two of you exchanged numbers & on your first date he took you to the Scottish countryside

• The view took your breath away, & he explained the history of his homeland to you (he’s very patriotic)

• You’d FaceTime, call, text etc. once you had to return to your home country

• He was so proud to see you graduate (he knew how hard you worked towards obtaining your college degree)

• He told you he couldn’t go to your graduation due to work (it was a lie)

• He planned out a whole secret proposal with your parents over FaceTime

• imagine your surprise when you saw him after the ceremony

• He proposed in private in your childhood house’s backyard

• You initially got married in the states to be able to live with him due to his military service & start receiving housing

• Y’all had a ceremony & reception at a castle in the Scottish countryside complete with a hand tying ceremony

• Yes, you had a bagpiper at the wedding

• He wore a kilt (are we even surprised?)

• Your garter had his last name on it & was in tartan plaid that matched his kilt (yes you had a garter toss & he was in shock when he saw the garter)

• Y’all got a gorgeous little cottage by the sea & ofc a sheep dog to go with it

• He 100% would be hosting for football matches

• And if you’re American y’all would definitely host a Super Bowl watch party

• I feel like he’d love reality tv (especially 90 Day Fiancé & the Kardashians)

• He has commentary too for every scene

• “what a fooking idiot.”

• His favorite Kardashian is Kris Jenner

• Since he can barley keep his hands off of you, he knocks you up only a month after your wedding

• Since he was deployed you mailed him ultrasound photos of the bean

• For a man who is incredibly intelligent it didn’t click that you send multiple photos of the same ultrasound

• He thought he was having quints at first & nearly had a stroke

• “You’re having five of ‘em?!” “No that’s the same fetus just different photos”

• He kept the ultra sound photos in his plate carrier

• Tactical baby gear is a must (also it’s a real company which is awesome)

• Hear me out little baby kilt, Simon gifted it to y’all

• You nearly cried when you opened the gift d

• Simon is 100% the godfather of your baby, if you trust him with Johnny’s life you can ensure if anything happened your baby would be taken care of

• Johnny was lucky that he was able to be there the entire time you were in labor

• He almost fainted when he saw the epidural (I don’t blame him)

• You guys had a little boy

• Unfortunately while you were in recovery he got called back into work for a mission

• Before he left he held your son just incase it was his last time holding him

• You sobbed when he left & one of the nurses had to console you

• Thankfully it was just a hostage rescue so he was back within a few days & ready to help out with the baby

• He carried your son around in one of those baby carriers that your strap to your chest

• Your baby boy is so giggly just like his daddy

• He will constantly be making his son laugh with silly faces, hand motions, anything

• Whenever the boys come over to watch a match your son will be passed around like a hot potato one moment he’ll be sitting with Price then next Simon has him

• As your son gets older he gets interested in what his daddy does, & he’s infatuated with being a soldier

• He’ll play pretend soldier with Soap all the time

• You’re constantly picking up Nerf darts

• When Soap is away on a mission, your son will crawl into bed with you because he misses his daddy

• He draws photos of him & the Task Force to send to overseas

• I also feel like y’all’s son would be incredibly helpful around the home especially when you’re expecting baby No. 2 & after baby No. 2 is born

• Baby No.2 is a little girl

• He’s definitely very protective over his little girl

• “She’s just as beautiful as you, Bonnie”

• Y’all’s son would also enlist or commission to the British Military but I think he’d actually be a King’s Guard for a bit

• And I feel like your daughter would be incredibly creative, she’d use those talents to be an artist

• I do believe Soap is a die hard family man & that’s one of the many reasons why you fell in love with him

✨NSFW✨

• He’s definitely a cheeky bastard & will not hesitate to smack, grab, or make comments in public about you

• He’s 100% dominant in the bedroom & loves to be called “daddy”, or even “Johnny”

• He fucked you right before y’all walked into your wedding reception, perks of wearing a kilt

• This man loves your legs & especially your thighs

• He loves to watch you squirm when his hand trails your legs all the way leading up to your pussy

• He’s not quite during sex whatsoever, he’ll full on groan, moan & tell you good you feel

• He’s a sucker for flexibility

• You take up yoga to improve your flexibility

• I definitely believe y’all wouldn’t even make it through the front door when he comes home

•He’d either fuck you on the hood of the car or the damn back seat in the parking lot

• He loves it when you wear his old PT shorts & no panties easy access

• He definitely loves you & your body & would know how to take care of you

hey! I have a request- I wonder what you think would be the type of girl 141 + konig + graves + any others would go for, thanks!!

Ooooo I legit have this one in my drafts! So buckle up! (Since these men take their careers very seriously I don’t think they’d actually peruse a relationship with a colleague due to professionalism,) I also apologize for not immediately posting this my husband rescued a small kitten from our storm drain & we’re getting her acclimated to our home

•Simon “Ghost” Riley- I feel like he’d lean into a very feminine type of woman, solely due to being around men constantly & his upbringing. So to him being with a woman who leans into very feminine roles would be something that I think he’d find incredibly attractive. Like dresses, makeup, very fashionable, loves to cook, etc.

• Captain John Price- I feel like he’d lean more into a old soul at heart type of woman. A woman who doesn’t settle for anything less & is also incredibly elegant at the same time. To me he’s an old soul himself so it’s very fitting he’d go for a woman who’s an old soul herself. You love to watch old movies, cross words puzzles, actual puzzles, etc.

• Johnny “Soap” MacTavish- I feel like his ideal woman is a full on extrovert that’s incredibly athletic. He needs someone to match his personality & energy at all times. Someone who is adventurous & has a incredible sense of humor. You can easily drink him under the table & love football.

• Gaz- I think his ideal woman is headstrong & intelligent. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, even Gaz when he’s being a “man.” She has a lot of empathy (I believe Gaz does too especially with his reactions to seeing the aftermath of terror attacks) & that can be a downfall for her sometimes. Luckily the both of them use their empathy to their advantage. Y’all love walking the dogs in your local animal shelter, & even foster animals

• Alex Keller- I feel like he’d go a woman who’s bookish, but not afraid to get her hands dirty. Her intelligence can get the best of her. But she can overthink situations & Alex has to reassure her sometimes that’s she’s making the right decision. Overall she’s a big sweetheart & does lean more into her feminine side. I’d say you love to read, paint, have a veggie garden, & love to go on hikes

• Keegan P. Russ- you’re far more extroverted than he is. You’re constantly helping him break out of his shell a bit. He’s can be so serious sometimes that he’d find your fearless attitude refreshing but also stressful. You’d give him a heart attack whenever you do something semi dangerous, like bring in a stray possum because it was cute

Extras✨

König- He’s going for a woman who’s patient & empathetic right off the bat. No joke like a kindergarten teacher imo would be perfect. Someone who can listen to him, take care of him, but also provide space when needed. I feel like y’all would enjoy reading books together, he’s very intelligent & book reading is a great way to bond over something but if needed he can always read by himself or with you.

Sobiesław- he’s going for a Slavic woman, a woman who’s traditional but has a little sass. You definitely lean into your more feminine side & be incredibly fashionable. I also feel like he’d into joining you on your shopping trips because you have a good idea for what looks good on him.

Phillip Graves- the All American type of girl, picture Cindy Crawford in that Pepsi Super Bowl commercial. Outgoing, kind, you’d have to be patriotic (RAH 🦅) to some extent obviously, & confident. You’d be his biggest cheerleader & provide the best support system for him in his career.

That’s How You Get the Girl

Keegan x F! Reader

Summary: Keegan & Y/N are set up on a blind date by a mutual friend, & Keegan being Keegan doesn’t really reply fully much to the confusion of Y/N

Warnings: none

Keegan wiped his palms on his freshly pressed slacks. He was sweating like a sinner in church. He hated this. Blind dating. Most of the men on his team were either engaged, married, or seeing someone. He didn’t do well with women, he may have been a Marine but he didn’t automatically gain that Marine confidence with women. He never knew how to talk to them, or he’d accidentally over share. Alex was fed up with seeing him off on his own every weekend when they had the opportunity to go out. Coincidentally, Alex had a friend from off post that was having horrendous dating experiences. So being the mastermind he is, he decided to set them up on a blind date. So here he sat awkwardly at a table set for two. Every time the door opened he looked up, he had absolutely no idea what she even looked like.

He noticed a gorgeous woman walk in. She was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. A wine velvet dress fitted up against her form & her hair was down in a blow out. She walked up to the hostess stand & the hostess pointed to Keegan’s table. He was sitting like a deer in headlines watching her walk towards him. He stood up as soon as reached the table. Keegan was just so taken aback, Alex did not tell him she was absolutely drop dead gorgeous.

“You must be Keegan.” She said & held out her hand. “I’m Y/N.” He took her hand & shook it. Still speechless he pulled out her chair for her. “Oh thank you.” She said & sat down. He pushed in her chair & went around the table back to his seat. The waiter approached the table & took their drink orders.

“So Keegan.” Y/N started. “How long have you known Alex?” She asked trying to get to know the mysterious handsome man in front of her. The waiter came back & placed a glass of Pinot in from of Y/N & a beer in front of Keegan.

“A long time.” He replied. She stared at him hoping he’d try to continue the conversation with a question about her. He looked away for a second & Y/N tried to draw his attention again. He was have a full blown anxiety attack inside.

“So do you like your job? I know Alex was telling me you’re quite good at.” She started again & took a sip of her wine.

“I like it.” Keegan replied wiping his hands again on his trousers. She took noticed of his weird body language & had a small frown on her face.

“Are you alright?” She asked out of deep concern.

“M’fine.” He replied. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” He got up abruptly & went into the men’s bathroom, leaving her at the table in shock. She sat there mouth agape as the man practically ran away from her. A pang of disappointment rushed through her body like electricity. By the way Alex described him on the phone he seemed like a charming man. Then when she saw him & saw how handsome he was she thought she hit the jackpot.

In the bathroom Keegan was attempting to calm himself down. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror breathing heavily in a attempt to relax. He went into his pocket & started to fumble with his phone. Once he found Alex’s contact he dialed him. An confused & annoyed Alex answered the phone.

“Hello?” Alex asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was that fucking pretty dude? A little heads up would’ve been nice.” Keegan said exasperated. “You know how horrible I do with women.” Alex chuckled at this.

“You wouldn’t have come if I told you.” Alex replied. “Just relax man, believe me when I say Y/N is a patient gal. Just get to know her. Now I’m going to go & enjoy your date.” Alex said & hung up. Keegan was able to relax himself enough to leave the men’s room. Y/N still sat the table, looking somber. She had her chin in her hand looking around. He took a deep breath & started to walk towards the table. Y/N locked eyes with him & gave him a small smile. Alex was right about the patient part. Most women would’ve gotten up & left. Once he reached the table he sat down in his chair.

“Are you okay now?” She asked with genuine concern in her voice. “You know if your anxious we can get the bill for the drinks & just get some take out.” She suggested. Keegan had never experienced this before & simply nodded. After Y/N flagging down the waiter & Keegan paying the bill they left. They then met up at Keegan’s off post apartment.

Y/N placed an order for pizza delivery & they sat on the couch. She could tell by his body language he was more relaxed. His collar shirt was unbuttoned a bit & she could see his chest hair peaking out. She bit her lip as was checking him out while he put something on the tv for background noise.

“Keegan,” She started. “Did Alex by chance tell you what I do for a living?” She asked.

“Uh no.” He replied wondering what her career had to do with him.

“I work with children that have anxiety.” She replied looking at him. “Keegan, do I make you anxious?”

“Yeah.” He replied a little embarrassed a warm feeling his cheeks began to rise & he looked down. She gently lifted his chin with her finger so he was looking eye to eye with her.

“Keegan, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Imma be honest with you I was anxious too. My past dates haven’t been great.” She honestly admitted. “But I know you’re probably a great guy, judging by what Alex has told me about you.” The blush on his cheeks grew intense at her compliment. “I’m a patient girl, I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes bore into hers & suddenly there was a warm sensation in his stomach. It felt euphoric. She put his hands on her waist & he pulled her in closer her chest touched his.

“You’re really beautiful,” Keegan said. “I just don’t do well around women.” He admitted. “I just never know what to say.” She smiled him at started to play with the hair behind his ear.

“Then don’t say anything.” She said & pulled him in for a kiss. He pushed her down gently onto the sofa they sitting on. She wrapped her arms around his neck deepening the kiss. The door bell rang, & the pair broke apart. “Looks like the pizza’s here.” She giggled, & they both sat up. She sprang up to tip the delivery driver & retrieve the pizza. Keegan touched his lips & smiled to himself. He had to remind himself thank Alex the next time he saw him.

You Don’t Send A Man To Do A Woman’s Job

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F! Reader

Summary: Heavily Inspired by the Fast Furious scene with Gal Gadot. While trying to figure out how to get intel on Makarov Y/N’s quick thinking & feminine ways help gain that intel much to surprise to Soap

Warnings: Sexual themes, seduction, mentions of female body parts

Being in the military definitely had it pitfalls sometimes it could mean sitting in a remote shack for days or even not having running water. But it definitely did have its perks. This was one of them. Drinking frozen Margaritas in the Bahamas Y/N, Soap, & Gaz all stood around a high top table staring at a group of Russians. They were given a tip that some of Makarov’s men were on vacation here. Soap & Gaz were bickering over what was the best way to gain intel off of them. Ghost & Captain Price were planted on the roof of the resort god forbid things went south.

“And how do you propose we do that? We can’t exactly just plant a device wherever we wanted to.” Soap replied with attitude. Gaz rolled his eyes & before he could even respond Price came over the radio.

“Oi knock it off you two!” He shouted. “Figure a plan out and let us know.” He sounded beyond frustrated & rightfully so. Y/N kept staring at them brainstorming ways she herself could be of assistance. Then she saw a very attractive blonde woman flirt with the armed guards outside of the cabana. It clearly drew attention to her & the the Russians invited her in. She plopped herself down onto one of their laps & accepted one of their drinks. A light bulb went off in her head.

“Guys.” She said trying to gain their attention. They started to bicker again & completely ignored her. “Soap? Gaz?” She tried again to no avail. “Fuck it, I’m going in Captain. Just make sure you’re recording their conversations.” She said into her hidden ear piece & whipped off her leopard coverup to reveal a cheeky red bikini. As she started to walk away both Soap & Gaz stopped talking.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap said. Ghost & Price both chucked at the expense of his reaction. Everyone knew Soap had a thing for you it was so incredibly painfully obvious to everyone except you. He couldn’t help but admire the way your bikini bottoms hugged your ass or the fact your toned legs stretched on for miles. He licked his lips at the sight.

As she walked towards the cabana she gained some unwanted attention from men scattered all over the pool, but it didn’t phase her. She was on a mission & was determined. Once she made it to the cabana she started to flirt with the armed guards. With her breasts pushed up in her bikini top & her famous smile she had gained the attention of one of the Russians.

“It’s fine Ivan, let the beautiful American woman in.” One of the men said. “Come sit.” He beckoned her to come in & sit down. She sat on the arm of his chair & he immediately grabbed a handful of her ass. Then he said made a remark to his friend in Russian about how good your ass felt. To his knowledge you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. But after being part of the US Army’s psychological warfare division Russian was one of five language you knew.

Back at the high top, Soap was ready to fight the man who grabbed you. Gaz almost had to physically restrain him.

“Think of the mission, Soap.” He reminded him. Soap grumbled to himself & started to mope into his drink. Over the next hour she had gained some of the most important intel about weapons, imports, exports, hell the whole operation. Soon the Russians started to get up to excuse themselves for dinner.

The man she had been sitting with, whom she come to know as Andrei invited her to dinner. She accepted even though she wouldn’t be attending. A small piece of her felt bad for lying. But she quickly reminded herself these men were war criminals. They profited off of the murder of children, women, & families. Once all of them were gone she walked back over to the high top where Soap & Gaz were.

Soap took the time to take in the sight of her walking towards them. Her breasts bouncing with each step, & the way her hips swayed. He was undressing her with his eyes & imagined her without that damn red bikini. Once she reached the table she put the cover up back on covering her body.

“So how much intel did you gain?” Gaz asked.

“More then we needed.” She replied.

“I have to ask, how on the Earth did you accomplish that?” Soap asked. She turned to him & smirked.

“It’s easy MacTavish, you don’t send a man to do a woman’s job.” She replied.

One of my favs

LOW COUNTRY | HIGH NOON

johnny mactavish x reader

[PREV] [NEXT] [AO3] [MLIST]

yearning—they're both so dumb.

Two weeks fly by and Johnny proves himself in ways you weren’t prepared for.

The first two days after he arrived, you’d spent hours showing him the ropes, expecting some level of difficulty, some struggle once he got down to actually doing the dirty work. Sure, he could listen and memorize to his heart's content, but if he couldn’t do the work, he wasn’t useful to you. 

But goddamn, could he do the work. 

The day after he arrived, you had him shadow you as you worked. You narrated everything you did for the livestock and important things to remember. Shimmer was on a diet and needed a little less hay in her stall. The water in every barn had to stay cool to keep the animals from overheating. The sheep’s bedding came from cornstalks harvested straight from the fields, and the barn doors had to stay open during the day for ventilation. Dixie had to be fed alongside the sheep—otherwise, she'd get jealous. The cows ate soybeans, and their barn fans had to run non-stop to keep the heat at bay.

On the second day, you let him take the reins. He remembered everything, every miniscule detail, down to a T. You were there if he needed help, but he never did. He fed the animals—hell, he did it all like he's been doing it his whole life, like he could do it blindfolded. 

It was almost jealousy-inducing how easy it comes to him. You’ve spent years building up the strength needed to handle farm work. You’ve got muscle, no doubt about that. Every long day under the sun has carved power into your body, earned through a lot of sweat and double the tears.

It’s unfair. It’s painfully distracting. He’s painfully distracting.

Regardless, you shove your pride to the side. This is what he’s here for, after all.

The division of labor falls into place easier than you expect.  He takes over livestock care and you handle the crops and the house. But together, everyday, you both fix the fences, riding out in the afternoons with supplies in tow, patching up the weak spots before they become real problems.

You don’t speak to Johnny much during the day—mainly during meal times. He spends most of his day to the left of the house at the livestock pastures and barns. The main pastures are all sprawled out, home to about fifteen cows and sheep, respectively. You spend most of your time at the crop fields, which stretch to the right of the house, along with the old barn your family stopped using years ago. Too much upkeep for what it was worth. The cornfields are there too, easy to reach on horseback. 

The stables sit in between both, a ways behind the house. The whole farm isn’t a big operation, not by most standards, but it definitely needs more than one person to run it. With Johnny proving himself capable, you both fell into an easy routine rather quickly.

Johnny's up at 7 a.m., like clockwork. He takes the biggest horse, Scout, and makes his rounds, feeding the animals breakfast, checking the water troughs and filling them up when needed. He lets the livestock graze before the sun gets too high. 

By 9, Johnny finally gets a moment to breathe while you’re awake and already in the kitchen cooking breakfast. You found that if you time it right, you can get an eyeful of Johnny from the kitchen window. You’ve unintentionally made it part of your morning, standing by the window, mug of coffee in hand, watching him. You repeatedly tell yourself it's to make sure he’s getting the job done, but the more you watch, the more you find yourself thinking about him in ways that grow exceedingly inappropriate for a boss-employer relationship. 

You should stop watching. If he were to ever catch you, he’d probably think you were some kind of freak. Maybe you should focus on the eggs in the pan, the bread in the toaster, but it’s hard to follow your better judgement with Johnny around. Pa’s been on your ass for how much toast you’re burning these days. 

Breakfast is never fancy, but it’s solid. Eggs, grits, fried potatoes, sausage, bacon. Sometimes fresh fruit if you’ve got it, a pitcher of orange juice on the table alongside the coffee. Variations of the same spread every morning, something hearty and filling to start the day.

Johnny’s damn near worshipful over your cooking. It brings a flush to your cheeks each time he comments on it, considering Pa’s never had too much to say about it. The way Johnny reacts, closing his eyes when he takes the first bite, letting out a quiet “Christ, that’s good”- or he groans under his breath, making it hard not to feel at least a little smug.

You’re used to running the cooking and cleaning on your own: the dishes, wiping down the counters, making sure everything’s in order. Pa never offered much help in that regard. He’s traditional in the sense that ‘it’s a woman’s job’ to take care of the home, with all of its chores and domesticities. He’s stuck in his ways but he’s got a kind soul.

But Johnny does it all with you. Doesn’t even ask.

He waits till everyone’s finished eating, then rolls up his sleeves and helps clear the table like it’s second nature, like it’s part of the job description. He stands beside you at the sink, drying dishes as you wash, putting them away without needing to be told where anything goes. He just remembers.

Most times, you both wash in silence. The only sounds are the clink of dishes, the rush of water, the occasional scrape of a sponge against a pan. But you can feel his eyes on you, watching as you scrub a pot or rinse off a pan. He never says anything—just waits for you patiently.

But it does something to you. Makes you feel small in a way you can’t quite explain. Not insignificant, but exposed. Like he sees too much, like he notices things you don’t even realize you’re giving away. It sets your nerves on edge, tightens something low in your stomach, makes your hands move a little quicker even though you don’t want to give yourself away. It’s ridiculous, really. It’s just dishes. Just a quiet kitchen. But under the weight of his gaze, it feels like something else entirely.

His arm brushes yours sometimes—subtle and fleeting but often enough that it doesn’t feel like an accident. Like maybe he’s finding excuses to touch you, even if it’s barely there. And it’s nothing, really. Just the briefest press of skin, the softest graze. But it burns and it lingers. It sinks into your skin like a brand, like something your body wants more of, wants to memorize. You keep your face neutral in the moment, your hands steady. Inside? Your pulse stutters, your breath feels too shallow, and your mind won’t stop spinning in circles. It’s ridiculous, how something so small can unravel you like this. But god help you, it does.

You try to brush it off. He’s just being kind, just paying attention. That’s all. Nothing more.

You remind yourself to be grateful for the extra set of hands, for the way his quiet presence makes the work easier. It’s a small thing, really—his help. But somehow, it takes the edge off the mornings, makes them feel a little lighter.

Johnny’s makes everything feel lighter, now that you really think about it.

Mornings used to be a race against the rising temperatures outside—shoveling down breakfast just to sprint outside and make sure the livestock were moved to the shaded pastures before the sun got too brutal. But with Johnny around, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. He’s got it covered. 

After breakfast, usually around 11, Johnny heads back out to do just that, while you get ready for your day’s work. You throw on something you don’t mind getting dirty—some overalls and a tank top, old boots, maybe one of Pa’s loose flannels if there’s a breeze.

You head to the stables and grab Shimmer, heading out to the crop fields. You pass the time, watering, weeding, checking for pests, making sure everything is growing the way it should. It’s tedious work, but at least now, you can actually focus on it. In a way, it’s calmer than dealing with the animals. 

By 3 p.m., you've made your final rounds around the fields, harvesting some cucumbers and tomatoes if they’re ready, checking on the other plants to make sure everything’s in place. The heat nears oppressive, and you’re already looking forward to heading inside.

As you ride back toward the stalls to put Shimmer away, your eyes find Johnny by the sheep pen. He’s herding them inside, guiding them with an easy patience, keeping them out of the harsh afternoon sun. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s got a good handle on them.

Your gaze drifts past him to Scout, tied to a fence post nearby. Shimmer must notice him too, judging by the way she whinnies, ears pricking forward with interest. They’ve been sticking close lately, choosing to graze together in the mornings and evenings, grooming each other like they’ve suddenly decided they’re inseparable. It’s odd, considering they’ve never paid each other much mind before—at least, not until two weeks ago.

It’s still August. Scout’s still in heat. You make a mental note to keep an eye on him.

Your gaze flickers back to Johnny—jeans slung low on his hips, a plain wife-beater stretched across his broad chest—and as always, you try not to stare.

But Johnny has a habit and it’s downright cruel. When the sun reaches its peak and the heat settles thick over the land, he peels off his shirt without a second thought. Like it’s nothing. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he’s just trying to keep cool. But sometimes—when he catches you looking, when the corner of his mouth quirks up just slightly—it feels like he’s doing it on purpose. Like he enjoys watching you struggle not to let your eyes linger on him too long, not to let your thoughts wander somewhere they shouldn’t.

You’ve never been so thankful for the relentless southern sun.

It clings to him, highlighting every sharp line and defined edge. His skin glistens with sweat, the golden light catching on the broad curve of his shoulders, the sinew of his arms as they flex with every movement. Thick and strong. 

The first time you saw him shirtless, you stared. You couldn’t help it.

And of course, Johnny caught you.

His gaze locked onto yours, sharp and amused, and in that split second of distraction, you didn’t even realize you were sliding right off Shimmer’s back—not until you hit the ground with a graceless thud, landing in a fresh patch of mud.

His laugh had boomed across the fields, full and unrestrained, carrying all the way to your burning ears. You barely had time to process the sheer humiliation of it before you wordlessly climbed right back onto Shimmer like nothing happened, like you weren’t covered in mud, like you hadn’t just been caught drooling over him.

Played it cool. At least, you had tried to.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts away from Johnny, and focus on putting Shimmer away. It’s easier said than done, but you manage, leading her into her stall and giving her a quick brush-down before heading back toward the house.

Lunch won’t make itself, and you figure you might as well get a head start—assuming you’re not completely covered in dirt from standing around, too busy staring at him to notice the dust clinging to your clothes. Which, if you’re being honest, happens more often than you’d like to admit these days.

At least he has the decency to put a shirt on before stepping inside. Small mercies.

You always whip up something light—sandwiches and a salad, maybe. You’re never in the mood to make anything too heavy. Pa skips out on lunch as usual, though. He always does, opting to head out to visit your Ma. She’s buried alongside a 200-year-old willow tree at the far edge of the property, the place that was always her favorite. Lunch used to be between you and a farm catalogue. Now, it’s between you and Johnny.

He never comments on how Pa slips away; he’s gotten used to the routine of it by now. It didn’t take long for him to piece it all together—Ma’s absence, the way Pa goes to kneel by the tree each day. He notices something in your eyes, too. He’s seen it in his own—loss. Grief.

When the aching sound of silence settles over the house—when the scrape of forks against plates is the only thing filling the empty space, when Pa’s vacant seat feels heavier than it should, Johnny’s hand inches toward yours.

It’s subtle, barely there. His fingertips just skim against your own, light and careful, like he’s offering something without asking. Like he’s reminding you, in the quietest way possible, that he’s here.

The first time he does it, you flinch and pull away before the warmth can settle, before the weight of it can mean something. But the next day, and the one after that, he does it again. Always the same way, always patient.

Day after day, you stop avoiding it.

It’s unspoken, something steady. A silent offering. He never asks for more, never demands, just open to  let you take what you need.

Today, your hand creeps to meet his. Your fingers slide to hold his own so easily—so naturally. Your fingertips graze over his knuckles before slipping between his fingers, not gripping, just resting. His other hand stills mid-stab of a piece of fruit, the fork hovering in place before a slow, knowing smile tugs at his lips—soft, easy, like he’s careful not to startle you. He doesn't tighten his hold, doesn't rush, just lets his thumb brush along your skin, as if memorizing the feel of it. His consistency is comforting. 

And day after day, without meaning to, you realize just how much you’ve come to rely on it.

Today, Johnny checks on the livestock one last time after lunch, but not before pitching in to help clean up. He’s quick about it, helping you get everything in order before heading out to make his rounds. He moves through the pastures, checking the water troughs, topping them off, and making sure the animals get their feed. It’s a rhythm by now—one that’s almost as natural to him as breathing.

You, on the other hand, head upstairs. The heat of the day still lingers in the air as you peel off your dirt-smeared clothes and step into the shower. The water hits your skin, hot and soothing, washing away the sweat, the dust, the weight of everything. For a few minutes, it’s just you and the steam, curling around you like a fog that keeps the world at bay. Thanks to Johnny, you can take more time for yourself, allowing for a few moments of peace.

Once you're clean, you retreat to your room for a bit, letting the quiet settle around you. The heat from the shower still clings to your skin, steam curling lazily in the air, and for a little while, you allow yourself the luxury of doing nothing. Just breathing. Just being.

But duty calls, as it always does. 

With a sigh, you pull on something comfortable—old jeans, soft and faded in all the right places, a loose tank top that drapes over your shoulders, and a pair of boots worn supple from years of hard use. You leave your hair down, still damp, cool against the nape of your neck as you step into the hallway. The air meets you in a soft contrast, brushing against your skin as you shake off the last remnants of stillness and head downstairs.

Pa’s sitting in his armchair, the low hum of the 5 o’clock news filling the first floor. His eyes are glued to the screen, but you don’t disturb him, slipping into the kitchen to prep dinner. The knives feel familiar in your hands as you chop the vegetables you harvested earlier, the scent of fresh tomatoes, onions, and herbs filling the air. You sprinkle salt over the meat, massaging it in gently, knowing it’ll make the roast tender for tonight.

The clock ticks past 5:30, and at 6, the last task of the day is waiting. Fence checks.

You and Johnny do it together every day. At first, it was purely for convenience—two hands are always better than one. But now, you look forward to it—to seeing him again.

You grab your jacket from the hook by the door, the familiar weight of it settling over your shoulders, and step outside. The evening air is cool against your skin, the sky beginning to soften into a wash of purples, pinks, and golds, the colors mixing together like paint on a canvas. The breeze picks up, gentle at first, but carrying with it the earthy scent of grass and soil. 

You make your way toward the stables, the gravel crunching under your boots in a steady rhythm. The evening air is cooler now, carrying the scent of hay and earth.

As you near the stables, you spot Johnny already there. He’s inside, leaning against Scout’s stall door, his back to you, speaking in a low murmur meant only for the horse. His fingers move through Scout’s mane with an absentminded gentleness.

There’s something different about him in moments like these—when he thinks no one’s watching. He softens. It’s endearing in a way you don’t quite have words for. And for a moment, you hesitate, just watching, before finally stepping forward.

You hum a soft, "Hey," and Johnny turns from Scout, a small smile tugging at his lips like he can’t help it, and he steps toward you with his hands tucked into his pockets.

For a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, caught in some strange pause, like you’re both waiting for something. His head tilts slightly, eyes scanning your face with quiet curiosity, and the longer the silence stretches, the more unbearable it gets.

“You talk to the sheep like that too, or just Scout?” you ask, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

He stills, processing your outburst before he huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Only th’ ones that listen.”

Before he can say anything else, you turn away—too quickly, probably—and busy yourself with Shimmer, running a hand through her mane like she suddenly requires all of your attention. Anything to ignore the way your chest feels too tight, your pulse too loud in your ears.

Johnny doesn’t move right away. You can feel him still standing there, watching, like he knows exactly why you turned so fast but isn’t going to call you on it. 

“She givin’ ye trouble?”  he finally asks, nodding toward Shimmer as you stroke her mane.

“Always,”  you mutter, scratching behind her ears and she whinnies. “She thinks she owns the place.”

“Cannae blame ‘er. She’s got ye wrapped ‘round her hoof.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch despite yourself. He’s not wrong. Shimmer huffs softly, nudging at your shoulder like she knows you’re talking about her. You softly push her nose away, shaking your head.

Johnny steps next to you, leaning his arms over the stall door, softly scratching the base of her neck. “That why ye bolted over here, hmm? Needed an excuse tae hide?" His voice is light, teasing—but there’s something underneath it. Something careful.

Your hand stills for just a second before you scoff, shaking your head. “Please.”  You turn, meeting his blue eyes with a practiced ease you’re not sure you actually feel. “If I wanted to hide from you, I’d pick a better spot.” You’re almost teasing when you say it, but you do know the property better than him, afterall.

“Dinnae have tae hide from me, hen,” he hums, the corner of his mouth quirks..

You hate that it makes your stomach flip. Hate that you have to force yourself to look away, to pretend the warmth crawling up your neck is from the evening heat and not from him.

Johnny lets the silence stretch, like he’s giving you a chance to say something—anything. His gaze lingers, drifting over you. Taking in the curve of your shoulders, the way your hair catches the fading light, the way you hold yourself like you’re thinking too much but refusing to say why.

When you don’t speak, he exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head before pushing off the stall door. Letting it go, for now.

 He nods toward the fields, “C’mon. Fence line’s no’ gonna check itself.”

You follow without a word, slipping out of the stables with him. Long shadows stretch across the fields, swaying with the wind-blown grass, and somewhere in the distance, a few cattle call out, their distant sounds blending with the steady hum of crickets.

Neither of you rush. There’s no need. The fence line is long, stretching across acres of land, and it’s a quiet sort of work—just walking, looking, making note of any broken slats or weak posts that’ll need fixing. He walks alongside you, the toolbox rattles lightly in his grip as he carries it at his side, the sound punctuating the steady crunch of boots against dry earth.

For a while, neither of you speak.

It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but it isn’t easy either. You’re aware of him in a way that feels impossible to ignore—the way his steps fall in rhythm with yours, the occasional brush of his arm when the path narrows, the way he glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

“Ye always this quiet?” Johnny asks, his voice low, barely disturbing the quiet, as if it’s a part of the gentle breeze.

You snort softly, eyes fixed on the fence as you mindlessly trail your fingers along the wooden slats. “Only when there’s nothing to say.”

“That so?” His voice carries easily with a sprinkle of amusement.

“Mhm.”

You keep walking. So does he.

Every so often, you test the fence with a firm press of your palm, checking for weak spots. He does the same. Occasionally, he stops to inspect a loose post, tapping it with the toe of his boot before moving on. It’s a simple rhythm—walk, check, walk again—but the silence between you is anything but simple.

It’s thick, growing heavier as the minutes tick by.

You can feel his presence beside you like a current, something you could fall into and get swept under if you weren’t careful. And maybe he feels it too, because every now and then, his hands twitch at his side, like he wants to reach for something, but can’t. Won’t.

“Ye ever get tired o’ all this?” His voice is quieter this time, almost like he’s asking himself more than you.

Your brows pull together slightly. “Of what?”

He gestures vaguely around you with the hand that isn’t carrying the toolbox. “Th’ same land, same routine. Mornings start early, work’s never really done. That ever get to ye?”

You consider that for a moment, kicking at a stray rock with the toe of your boot. “Maybe. Some days.” You glance at him. “You?”

His mouth tugs into something like a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nah. Never.”

You don’t know what to make of that.

The two of you keep walking, keep checking the fence. The breeze picks up, stirring loose strands of your hair. Johnny exhales a slow breath, his shoulders shifting as he rolls them back, working out a stiffness from the long day. The movement draws your attention, and for a brief second, you let yourself look. Really look.

The sharp cut of his jaw, the way the light catches on his cheekbones, the way his shirt clings to the broad stretch of his shoulders, still slightly damp from the sweat of the day. The gold cross dangling from his neck and the dark, miniscule birthmark that sits just below his ear. His hair has grown a bit since he first came. Maybe you could cut it for him, like you do for Pa.

You swallow hard and snap your gaze forward before you get caught. Again.

Another long stretch of silence. Another step. Another brush of his arm against yours—so light it could be accidental.

Could be.

Johnny stops when he catches sight of a sagging section of barbed wire, his steps slowing before he finally comes to a halt. Without a word, he sets down the toolbox and crouches, running a hand over the worn wood of the post before reaching for the wire. Testing its give. Seeing how bad it really is.

You watch as he exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly before grabbing the wire stretcher and a handful of staples. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even complain about the extra work—just gets right to it, like it’s second nature.

Rather than hover over him, you hoist yourself up onto a sturdier section of the fence beside him, perching on the top rail with ease. The wood is solid beneath you, not like the weakened stretch he’s working on now.

The sun is nearly gone, but there’s still enough light to bathe the fields in a golden glow, the last remnants of warmth brushing against your face. You tilt your head toward it, letting the heat sink into your skin, letting the evening breeze lift strands of your hair. It’s the kind of peace that settles deep in your bones, the kind you don’t appreciate until it’s gone.

Johnny breaks the silence first.

“If I’d’ve grown up somewhere like this…” He pauses, twisting the wire tight before driving a staple into the post. “I think things would’ve turned ou’ different for me.”

The way he says it—flat, almost absentminded—makes you hesitate. You’re not sure if he’s inviting the conversation or just thinking out loud. You don’t want to pry, but something about the way his voice lingers in the air makes you ask anyway.

“Different how?”

Johnny keeps his eyes on his work as he answers, pulling the wire taut. “Would’ve been normal, I guess. Wouldn’t have joined up. Would no’ have spent years runnin’ toward shit other people run from.” He exhales softly, a ghost of a chuckle. “Think I’d have been calmer. More settled.”

You watch him work for a moment, the way his hands move with ease, deft yet steady. He doesn’t look unsettled, per se. If anything, he seems at ease out here, like he belongs in the quiet.

“You don’t seem unsettled,” you say finally, tilting your head to him.

Johnny huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he pulls the wire one last time, before giving it a final staple to secure it. “Then ’m doin’ a great job at pretending.” His voice is light, but there’s something underneath it, something that makes you press your lips together.

You watch as he finishes up, hammering in the last staple before brushing the dirt off his hands. “If you aren’t happy here, you can always leave, y’know,” The words slip out before you can really think them through. “There’s plenty of families that need help.” It’s not a challenge, just a simple fact.

That stops him.

He straightens up, turning to you with something between bewilderment and confusion, like the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind. Like he can’t quite believe you’d think that, let alone say that. 

“Ye think I’m no’ happy here?”

You shrug, glancing out toward the fields. “I mean…” you pause, exhaling as you look toward your boots, drawing shapes in the dirt with the pointed toe. “I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s isolating.”

Johnny sets the tools down in the grass beside him, his jaw tightening as he mulls over what you just said. It sticks in his head, gnaws at something deep in his chest. He hadn’t considered that you might think that—hadn’t realized he might’ve spoken in a way that’d made you assume he wanted out.

But when he looks at you now, perched on the fence, swathed in the gold, pink, and purple swirls of  light from the sun, he understands why you would.

You’ve been here your whole life. You know the weight of isolation, watching things in your life pass by and disappear before your eyes. You probably expect people to leave.

And maybe that should be the case. Maybe he should leave—move on to bigger and better things. But when he looks at you—really looks at you—it doesn’t feel that simple. It can’t be. It’s not. 

Your very presence buzzes with life, from your hair to the ever-present flush in your cheeks—from the heat or him, he doesn’t know. You’re sat on the fence like you belong here, like the land itself was carved around you. And maybe it was. Maybe that’s why he’s so goddamn unsettled. You’re everywhere; you’re in every breeze that brushes his skin, in each rooster crow that signals the wake of a new day. 

He’s spent his whole life moving, chasing something—war, adrenaline, a sense of purpose that’s always been just out of reach. He knows the weight of isolation just as well as you do. 

His throat feels tight as he finally speaks, his voice dipping lower, rougher. “I’m no’ unsettled because o’ the job. Or the farm.”

His gaze is locked onto you, unrelenting. Waiting. Willing you to understand—like he’s been holding this in for too long, and if you don’t get it now, he’s not sure what he’ll do.

And then it all clicks.

It’s not about the farm. Not about the work, the isolation, the long days under the southern sun.

“Oh.”

The word breathes out of you before you can censor it, before you can even feel it. 

You’re the reason he carries tension in his shoulders, the reason he looks at you like he’s already lost whatever battle he’s been fighting with himself. 

All at once you can feel the sharp pull in the air between you, the way his jaw tics, his breath slows, his fingers flex like he’s stopping himself from reaching for you.

And the worst part?

You wish he wouldn’t.